#jake lockley x fem!reader

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

ALR!!!!!! SO, jealous/mad sex w the moonboys?

- 🦅🇺🇸

at your service🫡 thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

JEALOUS/ MAD SEX WITH THE MOONBOYS

moonboys x female reader (not as the moon system)

warnings. 18+ only!! rough pinv mdni

with marc, I feel like it would after a bad day, and he is in need of a stress reliever. he'd be kinda forceful (ALL CONSENUAL!!) and rough with you, manhandling you a bit. he'd fuck you in doggy, just ploughing and slamming into you from behind - ignoring your muffled cries into the mattress. he'd bruise your ass with slaps and squeezes, marking your waist as he tugs you to meet his ruthless thrusts. butt cheeks slamming against his thighs, balls hitting your clit from behind - all that good shit. he'd also grab onto your hair or behind your neck, using you as leverage as he fucks into you - holding you still to take his fucking. he'd cum first, all over your lower back, completely unaware that you haven't cum. he'd apologise profusely for getting so carried away and would roll you over to kiss you - comforting you. then he would eat you out til you cum on his tongue. he'd chub up again right after, so you'd go again. but more lovingly this time, and you'd talk and kiss as he winds into you. asking him what's on his mind/ bothering him

with steven, im thinking he gets jealous when he sees you talking with a guy in the queue. he'd sit on it all day and would be mopey about it. he wouldn't tell you why he's mad or jealous - he'd wait until the night when you'd have sex. usually, he's not one for games/ messing about, but it made him feel insecure bc the guy was 'better looking' than him (untrue) and he felt inadequate, and that you could do better. you'd be in missionary and he would be really sneaky and mean with it - only giving you the head of his cock, letting you satiate your need on just his tip. he'd edge you for so long, thumbing over your clit with his cock inside, waiting just until you were about to cum then he'd snatch his dick and thumb away - leaving you desperate and frustrated. it would be a much different steven !! he'd realise how much he loves to edge you - how much he enjoys the power of controlling your climax. it would take some good restraint to control his own orgasm but the thought of you with another man would give him that little push to hold off. after he'd talk about what bothered him and you'd reassure him, telling him how you'd never leave him for another man

with jake, im feeling that he gets jealous (?) or mad seeing you getting hit on at the bar. he'd keep it all hidden with his composure, never once exposing how territorial it made him feel. if you were getting hit on and he was beside you ???? he wouldn't get angry at all !! (I feel like he's confident with your relationship so to him it's amusing) he'd join in when the guy is chatting you up, "she is beautiful, isn't she?" he knows you're his, so to him it's like a fun game - kinda pimping you out (bc he knows he can protect you) he'd whisper something in spanish in your ear and he'd walk you away, a hand on the small of your back as you'd giggle. in the car, he'd be all over you and you wouldn't even make it home. he'd fuck you in the car park, in the backseat, you riding him. he'd have his grip around your throat, fucking you down onto him - you'd have your hands around his forearms, using him as stability as he claims you, pounding up into you. he'd mutter how he doesn't share and that you're his, telling you how pretty you are as he just slams his cock up into you. when you'd get home, you'd have another few rounds, nothing able to satiate the carnal feeling

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[little-worm-grant]

Spicy Jake: Aftercare

Jake Lockley x You (Fem!Reader) 1,532 words / 18+ only, no minors Masterlist. If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥ Summary: What if Jake took care of you after Marc had his way with you? Focusing on the aftercare, you find there's a gentler side to his rougher counterpart. Notes: Don't ask me what this is. You'll never take me alive. Warnings: Aftercare, post-rough sex, overstimulation, bondage/restraints, bruises and marks, creampie, established relationship, all the pet names, affection, comfort, fluff.

Jake was yanked all too violently to the front, taking a second to try and fight for some air back into his lungs. Eyes wildly scanning his surroundings. Expecting to be amidst some kind of fight, he discovered it was something else entirely. That last orgasm had sent Marc to the clouds and drawn Jake into the fray. Hadn’t been the intention of either of them, but Jake accepted it was what it was.

Couldn’t really complain when you were beneath him, your knees propped up with your back to him. Your face shoved into the sheets and your hands tied behind your back. His hand had been gripped around your waist and holding onto the ties of your restraints.

His cock spent but still buried deep inside of you. Any movement was sending your oversensitive cunt into a new spiral. Watching the mess spread out around where you both connected. It was spilling all down you both. He’d deducted you’d been at it while.

“Oh chica…”

His words came out in a soft drawl. Hips readjusting to watch you whine for him as he kept his movements slow but continued to thrust as deep as he could take it. His eyes trailed over the red marks and forming bruises the other brute left behind. Jake knew exactly which one of him had done this.

Always Marc who got his rocks off from controlling and using you to take out his frustrations. Steven was too desperate to please you. As for Jake? Well. Jake just wanted to treat you better than anyone else ever could. Most importantly, he wanted nothing more than to dote on you.

At the sound of his voice, you look over your shoulder up to him. If he thought your behind and ass looked bad, your face wasn’t looking much better. Red angry fingerprints scattered where he’d forced your jaw open and held it in place. Smeared lipstick and puffy red lips. The evidence of why your lipstick was like that remained at the base of his dick.

Mascara had streaked down your cheeks. Rosy from being slapped a few times. A dazed content smile spread across them. Jake couldn’t think of anything more beautiful than the sight of you like this. You looked happy, satisfied and ready for a little tenderness. He could do that.

Taking care of others wasn’t new for Jake. On those darkest of nights when Marc had gone looking for answers in the bottom of a bottle, it was always Jake taking over in the end. He stumbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Downing as much water from the sink as he could keep down.

Somehow he’d navigate the spinning fun house while hauling their asses back to bed. All so Steven could suffer the consequences more comfortably the following morning. Jake couldn’t always be there to take away the pain. Sucks to suck, Grant. He’d probably feel this in the morning too.

Jake reached for the knots around your wrists. Undoing the restraints. Pulling himself out from inside you. Hearing your softer groan turning into a whine and huffing in amusement.

“Mi amor. Went overboard did we? A little too oversensitive now, si?”

“Shut yourself up.”

You try to bite back. Sounded more exhausted than threatening. You sounded proud of yourself too. As you should. Jake wasn’t looking much better himself. Hair was all tussled and out of place. Sweat dripped down his chest.

“Ah, and so she still knows how to hiss.” Jake said to himself and laughed.

Gently he nudged your hips to bring you to lay down on your side. Shifting to lay down beside you. His face looking back at yours. You were too content to feel embarrassed that he got to see you in this state. Jake didn’t seem to mind at all. He reached up to stroke your face. Licking his thumb lazily to wipe some of the smears away.

“You’re going to have to be a lot fiercer than that to get me to shush, mi pequeña leona.”

“Mi pequeña leona.” You test the words on your mouth. “My little what?”

Much too tired to be doing anything about him. You always liked the way he looked so proud when you practiced more of your Spanish for him.

“My little lioness.”

He leaned in to press a kiss against your head. His hand reached down to stroke over your ribs and down along the side of your body. You shiver and try not to move much.

“Lioness? Why? Because I bite first?”

“Si.” Jake smiled a little more. You loved seeing the way the corners of his eyes creased. How relaxed and content he looked. Took a long time to bring his guard down.

He leaned up on his arm and looked around. Dropping his head back into the pillow beside you with a dissatisfied sigh. You gave him an expectant look. You knew what he was about to say, and so you waited for him to say it anyway.

“He never brings you a towel before he fucks you, does he?”

And there it was. Same old, same old. You smile knowingly. Would have laughed better if you had more energy to. It comes out quiet and distant.

“Would you get me some water too?”

“For you? Anything.”

He started to get up, but dipped back down quickly to kiss against your temple. Muttering the words close to your head.

“Should I run you a bath too?”

“No, it’s okay. Think I should sleep it off.”

“Sure thing, chica. Back soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

As if you could. You hummed your amusement as Jake disappeared off past the bookcase and beyond. You moved to roll onto your back and winced. The uncomfortable tingling sting along your rear had you rolling back onto your side again.

You took solace in knowing Marc would be just as hurt to find out he’d not been there to take care of you after. As rough as he could get, he always did love relishing in the after care. Stroking your body, making you a meal, or massaging you where you needed it.

You smile when you see him coming back through the doorway. Carrying a glass of iced water with a silicone straw. There was a damp towel folded and draped over his bare shoulder. Carrying himself differently. You could tell by the way he sauntered to your side it was still Jake.

His knee came up on the bed and leaning over you, he helped you to lift your head up enough to drink. A firm hand held you until you nodded a signal you were finished drinking. The cold of it was refreshing and needed after how long you’d gone without. He brought the glass to his own lips to drink the rest, narrowly avoiding the straw in his eye. You hear a crunch of ice between teeth. He chewed while placing the glass on the bedside table behind you. Moving in to curl up behind you. Light kisses along your shoulder.

“Gonna clean you up and get you under the sheets. Tell me if I’m too rough.”

“Please, I’m not fragile.”

“If you say so.”

Jake reached for the damp towel and tugged it off his shoulder. Bringing it down in a slow rub down over your ass. You breathe in sharp and tensed up to the wet cloth. It’d been ran under warm water but left cold in its wake.

“Okay okay. Gentle. Please.” You breathe.

“Si señora.” Jake mutters. Dipping in for another kiss against your shoulder.

He cleaned you up. Manipulating your leg to hold it up while he wiped down between your sticky folds. You making a noise for him, but Jake knew better than to play into your mood of wanting more. You needed to rest. He was tired too.

Soon enough he was moving again, getting the sheets from under to help bring them over the both of you. You helped, kind of. Rolling over to face him in the move.

“My turn.” You say.

“Not tonight. You need to-”

“No not that. Roll over.”

“Que?”

“I want to cuddle you for a change. Roll over.”

Jake gave you a hard stare, you half-expected him to refuse or talk his way out of it. Instead, his features relaxed and he leaned in to chase your lips for one last kiss before turning his back to you.

Your leg hitches up to wrap around his waist. Arm under his neck. Chest against his back. You kiss into his hair. Feeling Jake’s hand wrap around your wrist for his thumb to stroke.

“Mi pequeña mochila propulsora.” He snickered and you hummed in confused amusement.

“What am I this time?”

“My little jet pack.”

You were both breaking into laughter. Jake turned to catch another kiss of yours. A little messy but he seemed to need the contact, so you lifted your head to meet him. You cuddled up into him and before long, sleep soothed any aches that remained. Jake didn’t move. Lay there for the longest time listening to you breathe before sleep caught up with him too.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Play Pretend

Jake Lockley x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Jake doesn't have much experience in more... intimate matters.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Okay, so I'm not super happy with this. I don't know. Anyway, I feel like I'm always saying this but my head is really bad with editing atm. I'm sure I've missed so many typos. I'm so sorry.

Warnings: set in Steven's flat (UK), swearing, loss of virginity, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4909

Jake shifted a little nervously as he rested his head on your chest, despite the comforting weight of your arm around him. 

He was half laying on you as you were sitting on the sofa, his feet resting on the armrest as you both watched… something on TV. You watched, Jake just couldn’t focus. Even though he normally adored being snuggled up on the settee next to you, savoured any time you both had together. 

He moved again, trying to keep it as minimal as possible so as to not bother you. Slowly he tensed and untensed his legs, switching it so that one was over the other and then back around again.

There was a deep heat growing at the base of his spine, an ache between his legs. He swallowed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom, rub one out quickly and then come back to your embrace without getting hard like a horny teenager just because you were close. 

It was embarrassingly really. How often this happened. Sometimes you didn’t even have to physically be around, just smelling your scent lingering around the flat was enough at times. The feel of your jumper in the wardrobe when it brushed against his hand as he got dressed in the morning. The photo of you and Marc at the park on the side table. That time Steven accidentally used your shower gel instead of his own. 

He shifted again. Maybe he could-

“You okay?” 

He jumps despite the softness of your voice and turns his head quickly to look at you, a little wide-eyed. “Yeah?” He answers a fraction too quickly to be considered ‘okay’. 

You give him a bemused smile. “You sure?” 

“Hmmhmm.” 

For a moment you pause, just cocking your head to the side ever so slightly as you regard him and Jack as to practically bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from groaning out loud. Why, oh why, did you have to look so adorable when you did that? 

“You need to sneak off to the bathroom?” You ask innocently, but there’s a telltale mischief to your eyes that makes Jake’s blood run cold. 

“I, erm, what are you talking about amor?” 

You gesture with your chin to his not-so-subtle budge in Steven’s sweatpants. 

“A…” He shifts again, thinking about grabbing a pillow to place over himself for a second before realising how silly that would be. You already knew what he was hoping to hide. “Maybe.” 

You smile and kiss his cheek. “That’s okay, you can go. I’m not gonna judge you. You know I don’t want you to sit here and be all uncomfortable.” 

“Hmm.” He gives you a small smile, a light dusting of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very top of his ears. “Sorry.” 

You frown a little and speak kindly. “What are you sorry for, silly?” You lightly stroke the shell of his right ear as you talk, just brushing your fingers along the outside and tucking a few errand curls behind it. 

He shivers. You know what you’re doing. 

“For…” He gestures to his crotch and you giggle. 

“I could…” You bite your lip a little a you speak and Jake pinches his thigh to keep control of himself. “Help you out with it? If you want?” There’s a little nervousness to your words, a worry of overstepping a boundary. 

While you had been physical with Marc and Steven for a while now, the most you had done with Jake had been to kiss and hold hands. Not that you minded. Jake was his own person and you wanted to go at his pace, take your time with the more intimate side of things. Or, never have that kind of relationship with him at all. You were just happy to spend time with him. 

He didn’t really like talking about that side of your relationship, and you didn’t want to push him. 

Jake’s blush grew darker. “I… erm…”

You resisted the urge to gently tease him about his loss for words. 

“I…” He closed his eyes, blurting out his words and screwing his face up afterwards. “I’m a virgin.” 

“Oh.” You said in surprise. That certainly wasn’t what you expected him to say. 

He opened his eyes quickly, a tense look of fear pinching at his features and you quickly realised your mistake. 

“No,” you say quickly as you reach out and stroke his hands, embracing them in your warmth. “I mean ‘oh’ as in, ‘oh, I didn’t think you were gonna say that’, not ‘oh, that’s a problem’.” 

The tension in his shoulders viably relaxed slightly and he gave you a weak smile. Looking down briefly at your hands and stroking your knuckles with his fingers. 

“So… you’ve never done anything… sexual before?” 

Your own tiptoeing around the word makes you wince. 

“Just sort of kissing, I guess.” He looks up to you with his large, soft eyes. “Is that a problem?” 

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “no at all just… yeah, surprising.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Well,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder, “I don’t know if you know this, but you are very pretty.” 

Jake snorts, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told.”

You smile back at him before softly brushing his hair behind his ear again, savouring his little hiver. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? There’s never any pressure, I want you to know that. I’m more than happy just to be with you like this. I love you, it doesn’t have to be physical.” 

He nuzzles into your hand, kissing your wrist. “I know,” he whispers, “and thank you, for saying it out loud I mean.” 

You stroke his cheek as he talks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… and I know you’ve technically been with the body before, it’s just that…”  

You stay quiet as you caress his face, letting him take his time. 

“I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

As the last words leave his lips a little crack forms in your heart.

“You could never disappoint me, Jake.” 

He smiles but tuts. “You know what I mean… inexperienced isn’t exactly code for ‘giving their partner’s good time’, right?” 

“I’ll have a good time no matter what because I’m with you.” You give him a soft kiss and he smiles.

“That’s not what I mean Amor,” but he kisses you again. “Thank you though, it’s just…” he pauses, thinking carefully on how best to explain himself. Out of the three of them Jake is always the one who thinks most about what they say before they say it. “It’s just, I didn’t want to just… be with someone for the sake of it, I wanted it to be with… someone special, someone I care about. And now…”

“You’re still waiting for that someone special.” You nod solemnly as you tease. 

Jake glares at you playfully, ticking your side until you giggle and hold up your hands. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter between laughter. 

“You should be.” He leans close and lightly nips at your neck. “Be thankful that I’m in a forgiving mood.” 

You grin and kiss his nose. 

“You are my someone special,” he continues sincerely, “and I want it to be enjoyable for you, I want you to…” he trails off and looks down for a second. You can see that hint of a blush returning. 

“You want me to…?”

He bites his lip and swallows. “I want you to look and sound like you do with Marc and Steven.”

You smile cheekily. “You watch?” 

He avoids your gaze. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” 

“Almost all the time.” 

“Almost?” 

“99.9%.”

“What’s wrong with the .0?” You say, pretend indignation in your voice. 

“I’m sleeping.” 

His matter of fact tone takes you by surprise and you laugh loudly. 

“Fair enough.” You stroke his cheek again. 

“You don’t mind?” 

You shake your head. “Marc might. Maybe.” You shrug. “You’d have to ask him.”

“I’m definitely not doing that.” 

“Steven won’t care.” 

Jake nods. “That’s true. Exhibitionist that one, for certain.” 

You laugh again and then pause as both of you look at each other for a long moment. 

“Why don’t we play pretend for a bit? Help you relax and get out of your head?” You ask.

He thinks for a moment before he opens his mouth, a smirk on his lips. “I think it’s called ‘role play’ amor.” 

You tut.

“All I’m saying is I shouldn’t be the one who knows more in this situation-” Jake yelps as you cut him off by tickling him this time. He jumps back from your reach and grins. “Unfair.” 

You poke your tongue out at him. 

Which he promptly returns before he smiles. “Alright, let's play pretend’.”  He sits up straight on the sofa, his hands neatly in his lap as he waits for your direction. 

You give him a brief suspicious look, Jake was never usually one to agree and behave without having some ulterior motive. 

“Alright,” you say a little suspiciously as you settle down next to him. “You can stop this at any point you want, okay?” 

Jake nods once. 

“Okay, so,” you give him a little glance and see he’s listening intently. “I’m thinking, ‘where’s Jake the most comfortable?’”

“In bed.” He interrupts cheekily. 

You snort. “No. I was going to say, driving.”

“Driving’s not very comfortable.”

“Jake-”

“Not here anyway, roads are tiny.”

“Jake-”

“And everyone’s an asshole.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He grins. 

“But, humour me, yeah?” 

He nods. “Consider yourself humoured.” 

“Alright, driving. So, we’re in the car, you're driving.”

“I’m on the wrong side.”

“Jake.”

“I’m on your left.”

“Well, we’re in America now.” 

“How did we get here?”

“Jake.”

“Did we fly?” 

“Jake.” 

“Marc’s gonna be pissed if we don’t get some pizza, I can tell you that-”

You shut him up by kissing him deeply. While it may not always be the most convenient method of silencing him, it certainly is the most effective. 

He kisses you back desperately, sinking into your embrace and bringing up his hand to lightly caress your cheek as you lick into his mouth. 

You know why he’s talking so much. The action so unlike Jake. He’s nervous. 

He moans softly as you pull back a fraction, trying to follow your lips. 

“I should really be keeping my eyes on the road.” He teases, his voice low and wrecked. 

“Well, it’s a good job we’re on the settee then, isn’t it?” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer and pressing your lips back to his. 

You swallow down his softly whimpered moans and trail your hand down his chest. You keep the action slow, deliberate. So he has plenty of time to feel where you're headed, and to stop you if he wants. 

You lightly palm his erection through his jogging bottoms and he hisses in a breath, his hips bucking up towards your touch as he keeps kissing you. 

His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer as he trails his lips down to your jaw, pressing soft kisses along the bone before slipping further down to your neck. 

You press a little harder, running your hand up and down his clothed length and massaging his heavy balls. His cock twitches under your actions, warm and throbbing. 

Jake hisses in a breath, “please.” His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear him, can distinguish his words from moans as he presses his lips to your skin and sucks lightly. 

You tangle your free hand in his hair, pulling lightly at the curls to make him whine as you hook your fingers under his waistband and pull his trousers down. 

Jake groans, squirming a little and lifting his hips quickly, grabbing hold of the material and yanking his boxers and jogging bottoms down to his knees, keeping his mouth at your neck the whole time. 

The heat coming off his skin almost burns. Even without seeing his face you know that deep blush is back, the one that spreads across his skin like ink and makes you lightheaded from desperation for him. 

Languidly you run the tip of your finger down his length, savouring the way his cock jumps and twitches under your attention. The head is ruddy and swollen, a bead of forming precum seeping out from the slit that begs you to swipe it away with your tongue. 

You wrap your fingers around his girth, a not quite firm enough grip, and pump him twice in long, slow movements.

He sucks in a breath, shivering and muffling his moans against you, his fingers tightening on your side as if you’ll move away. As if you would ever want to leave him like this, aching and needy. 

You dip your hand lower, massaging his balls again and the little sound Jake lets out is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Fuck,” you breathe and quickly pull away from his hold. 

Jake makes a small sound of distress for a moment, thinking you’re stopping, before he realises what you’re doing. 

You lean down, taking hold of his cock and pumping him slowly as you lick along his tip with the flat of your tongue.

Jake groans, throwing his head back against the sofa and balling his hands into fists at his sides. 

You repeat the action again, and again. Lapping at his slit and spreading his precum across your tongue. 

He gasps, his thigh muscles twitching as he fights to keep still and not buck up into your mouth. 

“This okay?” You ask between licks. 

“Yes, ah,  yes, really okay.” He whimpers, squirming a little and biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.” 

“I won’t.” You whisper and lightly suck at his head, moaning as he slips into your mouth, and swirling your tongue around him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his hips buck up a fraction before he catches himself and forces them back down against the cushions. “Sorry,” his words are muffled as he grits his jaw, bites his lip and tries to not completely lose it after barely thirty seconds. 

You hum, pressing your tongue flat against him and let yourself slide further down, swallowing and sucking on his greedily. 

“Oh, shi-” he catches himself, fighting every instinct to give in and chase his pleasure. He bites his bottom lip hard, drowning in pleasure and not even trying to come up for air. 

His sighs and pants echo around the flat as you move faster, sink lower, until he hits the back of your throat. 

He gasps loudly, a string of swears thumping out of his throat in a rush. 

Then suddenly, his hands are on your jaw, lightly lifting you back up and off him. “Stop, stop, stop,” he rushes the words together and you move back quickly. 

Your mouth is barely off him before he’s pulling you into a searing embrace, his tongue dancing with your own and licking his precum from your lips. 

“You, you,” he mutters, one hand pulling at your jeans and undoing the button. “You, need you,” you’re not sure if he even realises he’s speaking, his thoughts bypassing any check system and coming straight out of his mouth. 

He pushes you back against the sofa and you let him, let his strong, warm hands guide you and push your jeans and underwear down your thighs just enough so that he can touch you. 

He sighs loudly as he strokes between your legs, the sound almost as if you were the one touching him and not the other way around. 

You moan his name, pulling at his shoulders.

“Show me, show me,” he mutters into your mouth, “please.” 

You grab hold of his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit and showing him the soft circles you like. He follows your directions eagerly, his large dark eyes mesmerised as he watches. 

When you press his fore and middle finger towards your slick entrance he moans again, gently pushing inside and shivering. 

“You’re really wet.” He mutters, trying to control his breathing. Slowly he pulls his fingers out before pushing them back in, revelling in the sound your arousal makes. “Is that,” he repeats the action, his eyes flicking up to your face, “is that okay? Feel okay?” 

You nod, keeping a gentle hold on his forearm. “Just, fuck, thumb’s great, just, sort of curl your fingers a little bit and-” Your sharp moan cuts over whatever you were going to say next as pleasure runs up your spine like lightning. 

“Like that?” He whispers, his voice thick and heavy, his pupils blown wide.

You nod desperately, rolling your hips to chase the sensation of his fingers. “Like that.” 

He groans a little, pressing closer so he can lightly kiss your neck, alternating between sucking at your skin and looking up to watch your face in a blissed out rapture. 

“What made you so wet, hmm?” He mutters into your ear, rocking his hips against you so that his painfully hard cock rubs against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” you hiss as the tips of his fingers brush perfectly inside. 

“Hmm?” He asks needily, practically begging, as if he hasn’t got you at his mercy. 

“You.” You manage to stammer out.

“Me?” 

“You.” 

“You like sucking my cock that much?” He groans, having to pinch his side with his free hand to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head. 

You nod desperately, bucking up into his hand as you chase your orgasm. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine and Jake growls. 

He watches you for a few more seconds, trying to keep hitting that spot that makes you mewl under him.

Suddenly, he stops, pulling back his hand and you practically sob, tugging lightly on his wrist to try to keep him inside of you. 

“Jake,” a deep down part of you wishes you didn’t sound quite so needy, but most of you doesn’t care in the slightest.  

“Put your mouth on me again please,” he mutters, his voice rushed and breathless as he urges you down towards his cock with his hand on your upper back. 

You nod, moving quickly to lick a long stripe up the length of him that has him moaning like a whore. 

You take him back into your mouth quickly, sucking him as deep as you can and further still. Jake’s whimpers spurring you on. 

He keeps one hand on your back, nearly at the base of your neck, pressing down ever so slightly to guide your tempo. While he shoves his middle and forefinger into his mouth and groans at the taste of your arousal. 

He moans loudly, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Amor,” his voice is thick, on the verge of breaking, “fuck you taste-” he gasps as you sink lower, your own sounds of pleasure echoing along his cock. 

He bites back a sob. “Taking such good care of me, you taste so sweet,” he sucks on his fingers, desperately trying to find every single trace of your slink that he can. The wet sounds cut over your own, somehow louder in your ears than your racing heartbeat and your mouth around his hot, thick cock.

Jake’s eyebrows pinch together as the ball of pleasure starts to tighten uncontrollably in the base of his stomach, pushing him higher and higher and so close to tumbling off the edge. 

“Amor,” he whines, biting his lip and gently pulling you off his throbbing cock for the second time. 

A thin trail of salvia connects you for a brief moment. You pout a little at being coaxed away from him again, Jake savours your expression for a heartbeat before kissing your swollen lips once, twice. His hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth and squirms in his seat. 

He breaks the kiss briefly to tug off his own trousers, reconnects your lips with a groan and tries to get your jeans off without moving away again. 

You chuckle lightly at his impatient scoff when it doesn’t quite go to plan. He scowls at your clothing, as if it was purposefully being difficult. Swearing lightly under his breath before looking down and tugging them off. You pull your top off at the same time, burning with need. Desperate to feel his skin against yours so keenly that it is almost to the point of pain. 

“Lay back please,” he mutters as he tugs your legs free and clambers between your thighs. His hands dig in just enough to send a shiver along your nerves, twisting deeply at your core. His stubble grazing over your skin as he places sloppy kisses on your inner knee, trailing upwards and nipping lightly. 

He moves hastily, forgoing any pretence of being able to hold himself together as he gazes at your aching pussy. He darts out his tongue, licking one long swipe through your folds and up to your clit, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste wantonly. 

“Fuck, Jake, I-”

He plunges two fingers back inside you, curling them exactly how you instructed and you all but scream. Your breath stolen from you as he flicks his tongue against your clit, circling one way and then the other before latching on and sucking it into his mouth, trying to follow directions from hazy encounters he watched quietly in the headspace. 

When you grab hold of his hair, your hips arching up into his mouth he groans, opening his eyes so that he can see the look of pleasure on your face. How you contort under his touch. 

He sobs, rutting needily against the sofa, the expression on your face almost too much to bear. 

You buck against him unthinkingly, your body taking over as you need to chase your high. His name falls from your lips in whimpered gasps, separated only but pleas and muttered praises. 

You guide the back of his head, encouraging him to lap at you in time with your hips and he follows your directions instantly, pressing closer and moaning against you so much that the sensation nearly has you screaming.

Your thighs shake as you bite your lips together, muscles tensing and waves of pleasure begin to build and build and build, threatening to drag you down over the edge in one fell sweep and-

Jake pulls back quickly, the bottom half of his face shining with his slavia and your slick. You groan in frustration as he moves, but let go of him so as to not pull at his hair. 

“Jake,” you say, a spike of irritation weaving through your words. 

He moans at your tone, his eyes glazing over ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, please,” he rubs your thighs, kneading his fingers into your skin as his own hips rock and buck against nothing but the air. 

His cock is red, leaking and almost painful looking with how hard he is. It bobs up and down with every movement, almost pleading with you to take pity. 

“Please what?” You whisper. 

Jake shuffles back into a sitting position, both feet flat on the floor. He looks at you a little uncertainly for a split second before he pushes the emotion down. “Please come and fuck yourself on my cock.” He says quietly, as if he was truly asking you for a favour and not letting you have everything you want.

You all but jump into his lap, pulling off the rest of your clothing and kissing him hard. He moans against your lips, following every movement desperately as he places his hands gently on your hips. 

With the last fragment of your rapidly disintegrating self-control, you manage to pull away from him just far enough to speak. “You sure?” 

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, too drunk on your touch for your words to make sense. He moves forward, trying to kiss you again. But you hold him back a little, pressing your hands against his cheeks softly but firmly until his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows pinched in puzzlement. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to rush you, we can-”

“Please.” He practically sobs. The break in his voice at the end of the word rings so loudly in the room that you're surprised it doesn’t echo. You’ve never heard him so needy before. 

“Please,” he repeats, “I want to, I want you. If… if you’ll have me, if you-”

You cut off any self-destructive thought that was destined to fall out of his mouth with your lips on his. 

“If I’ll fucking have you,” you mutter against him, raising up on your knees and taking him in your hand. You line him up with your entrance before you sink slowly down. 

Jake gasps, grabbing hold of you and squeezing you tight. His face pressed into your chest as you hold his shoulder, kiss his temple as you ease him inside. 

He bites his lip, trying and failing to hold back a whimper, but succeeding in keeping his hips still. 

You gently turn his face towards you by his chin as you bottom out, kissing his plump lips once, twice before you speak. “You okay?” 

He nods, completely lost in the feel of you squeezing around him. “I’m not gonna last.” 

“That’s okay,” you smile sweetly, stroking his hair.

But Jake shakes his head. “It’s not, I want you to-”

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, “I’m having a good time, okay?” You smile and gently take one of his hands and guide it between your legs to your clit. “Here, remember what I showed you?”

He nods, looking up at you like you painted the sky and quickly begins those soft circles that have you clenching around him and moaning softly. 

He lets out a choked sob. “Can feel you.” He mutters. “Feel you… squeezing, and fuck, so warm, and wet, and tight and-” he swallows his words, groaning loudly, his eyes closing as you start to slowly move, using his shoulders for leverage. 

His fingers don’t falter though. 

The stretch of him is so good it burns, pressing hard and deep inside and threatening to crack you open at any given second. 

You keep your movements steady, rising up and sinking back down, watching his every expression intently. The bob of his throat. The lines of concentration on his forehead.

His thighs shake, his lip so tightly between his teeth that it’s losing colour. 

“You want me to go faster?” You whisper and he grounds, nodding rapidly. 

You can’t help but smile as warmth runs along your veins. How much he trusts you to take care of him, how hard he’s trying to stay still. 

You kiss him hard, forcing him to stop biting his lip and let out the sweet sounds he’s been trying to hamper. He takes hold of your face with his free hand, caressing your cheek as you slide your tongue into his mouth. 

You pick up your pace, truly riding him and he moans. 

“Amor…”

“Move with me.” You mutter, rolling your hips and encouraging him to buck up and do the same. 

He whines, but nods, kissing you deeping as he fucks up into you as you set a brutal pace. 

The slide of his thick cock makes your spine bend, your body moving on autopilot as you chase your high. Your breath catches in your throat as he hits deep. Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, digging into his sweat soaked skin. 

Jake's eyes snap open, watching you intently and angling his hips to try to hit that spot again. 

“Please, please, please,” he mumbles with every thrust, not sure what he’s asking for but knowing that he’s desperate for it. 

You tense, your muscles clenching as bliss begins to burn at the edge of your vision. “Jake, Jake, fuck.”

“Yes, please, please,” he moans, obsessed with how your lips part, your eyes shut as you get close, “please.” His thumb swirls messily over your clit, slick with sweat and your wetness, he pushes you closer.

The slap of skin is nearly as long as both of your moans as you bounce relentlessly on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. 

Stars begin to swell behind his eyes, pleasure spiralling in the base of his spine. “I can’t, I’m gonna- please!”

It’s a sobbed beg that pushes you over the edge. How desperate he is for you. How needy. How shamelessly open with what he wants. 

You swear as pleasure crackles over your skin, burns through your veins as you come. Jake groans loudly, following you a fraction of a second later and gasping as you squeeze his cock, milking him for every last drop he has to spend. 

He buries himself deep, pressing his face into your chest. For a second he’s weighty, floating somewhere high above everything, somewhere warm and safe. 

And then your hands stroke his arms, your lips kiss his sweaty forehead, and he can feel you, your warmth, your everything holding him tight and keeping him safe. 

“You okay?” You stroke his hair softly and smile when he looks up at you. 

He nods and grins, pressing his lips to yours in a long, soft kiss. “I think I like play pretend amor.” 

You snort. “Oh, do you?” 

“Hmm, we’ll have to do it again.” 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[bitchyglitterfox]

Pegging The Moon Knight System - F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, pegging, sex,

this came from a convo me, @howaboutcastiel and @mccn-bcys had, i said pegging the moon boys and we threw around ideas. enjoy

Steven Grant 

“You want to do what love?” 

“I want to peg you” 

Loves it, like will ask you to do it when spicy time happens

Literally is a sobbing mess

So cock drunk he can't even form sentences 

Tears stream down his face as he reaches his orgasm

Mommy kink they all have it haha 

Marc Spector 

Is a no at first until you both sit down and talk about it and he sees you do it with steven first

Lets you try it for the first time and actually finds it enjoyable

Gripping the sheets moaning out loud 

“Fuck” he lets out the most delicious grunts and moans as you pick up speed

“You like when i fuck you dumb on my cock dont you baby?”

Loves when you domme him, enjoys just being able to let go and enjoy being taken care of. 

Is babygirl 

Jake Lockley 

Loves it the most out of the 3 of them. 

Enjoys when you are rough with him, loves the hair pulling 

However 

If you are slow and sensual with him? 

This man is gone 

Loves that when you are fucking him you slowly rub you hands against his cock. 

Whimpers, this man, the same man who is Khonshus fist of justice? WHIMPERS as you fuck him. 

Loves when yall do it infront of the mirror so he can show off for Steven and Marc

[peterman-spideyparker]

Celebrate (Marc Spector x fem!Reader, Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So, I have had this done for a while and just never posted, so better late than never, amirite? And besides, we can all always use more Oscar Isaac and the Moon Boys in our lives. Enjoy! :)

Summary: The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.

Warning: Fluff (established couple with all the Moon Boys, super sweet affection, kisses, a very important question), angst (negative emotions about birthdays), implied smut

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 3,348

Steven, Marc, and Jake love you. They loves everything about you, from how you talk, to how you have a ‘lucky’ something for every category of item you own, to how big your heart is. But there is one thing about you that particularly irks them.

In the year and a half that you have been together with them, they has yet to find out when your birthday is. For all they knows, they could have missed it twice! Hell, you’ve remembered theirs twice and have done incredibly loving things for both.

They have tried everything—Steven even tried to sneak a peak at your license once, but turned out to be in a different wallet. Steven only knew his lack of knowledge wasn’t by virtue of him not trying extremely hard, because Marc and Jake couldn’t find out either.

Jake enjoyed playing around with the fantasy that you were a secret spy or assassin who stepped away from the action to lead a normal, quiet life. Steven and Marc were ready to quickly dismiss it when they remembered that they served as an avatar for the Egyptian God of the moon. In all honesty, there was a chance that Jake could be right. 

“Did you know that in Ancient Egypt, Pharaohs didn’t celebrate birthdays on the actual day?” Steven asks as he hands you a dish from the suds. “They celebrated their coronation day since it was when they were born into the role of ruler.”

“Interesting,” you respond as you use the towel to dry the plate.

“It’s a bit sad, though, innit? That other people didn’t celebrate their birthdays. It wasn’t a common thing.”

“Well, I mean, I guess people make a big deal out of birthdays and place a lot of pressure on them. Maybe the Egyptians had it right.”

“But it’s an important day, you know? Someone fantastic was brought to the world, that’s worth celebratin’.”

You have a feeling you know what he’s getting at. You choose to remain quiet.

“You’re worth celebratin’, (Y/N).”

You feel tears sting at your eyes, and you suck in your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying.

“Why haven’t you told us when your birthday is?” he pleads softly.

You dip your head and shrug. “My birthday . . . I don’t know,” you mutter. “I have a lot of mixed feelings about it, and I don’t know how to say them without sounding whiny.”

Steven tilts your chin up with a sudsy finger so your eyes lock onto his.

“We’re all ears,” he says tenderly.

You let out a sigh, but Steven’s finger refuses to let your gaze leave his.

“No matter how old I got or whatever new friends I made, my friends and colleagues and even my exes always forgot my birthday. I always made it a point to remember theirs, get a gift, a card, whatever, because—it’s the friggin’ day they’re born! And then I always had these small, wistful expectations there’d be something done for me like a surprise, but it was always nothing. Once I got into my college years, I’d have these hopes and expectations of what I’d have done by that birthday, and most of them never came true. My ‘have a first kiss’ goal was deferred for eight years until I was 25.” You close your eyes and give your head a little shake. “I’m just always disappointed by my birthday with other people and myself. Never a real reason to celebrate.”

Steven dries his hands and wipes away yours tears with the pads of his thumb as he pulls you in for a loving hug.

“Will you tell us when your birthday is, love?” Steven whispers into your hair. “Please?”

Unable to resist his tender embrace, you tell him the date, and he pulls back to scan your face. “That’s Thursday,” he states.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It is.”

You don’t expect him to cradle your face in his hands while he kisses you deeply. “Boy, do we have some idea’s stewin’ in our brain,” he beams as he gives you another kiss. “And you know what? Since I missed it last year, you’re gonna have a half-birthday celebration that is gonna knock your knickers right off of you.”

“My knickers?” you laugh, your hurt feelings quickly leaving your body.

Steven whistles and moves his hand like a plane to emphasize the absolute absence of panties you’ll have before he hops up and rubs his hands together in excitement. 

“Oh,” he says as he holds up a finger. “This is why we couldn’t figure out your birthday, right? You’re not secretly a spy or assassin?”

You laugh at the implication, the sadness rolling off of your body. “Jake’s idea?”

Steven nods. 

“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. And then there’s the issue of getting rid of the body, and we’re on the fifth floor—.”

“See, I know you’re jokin’, but part of me is actually a little spooked right now,” Steven says.

“No, hon. I’m not a spy,” you giggle, moving to kiss his cheek and push his curly hair back. “Sorry to disappoint Jake.”

Steven breathes a sigh of relief and dips his head as you hold onto him. "Oh, thank the gods!"

You’re vaguely aware of the shifting on your mattress as you continue to enjoy a cozy slumber under the comforter with your head on the pillows. After a bit, you feel another shift on the mattress along with the warmth of another body whose smell you know all too well. 

“Happy birthday, my love,” Steven whispers with a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You let out a tired moan as you roll into Steven’s body, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face into his chest as you try to pull yourself back into a deep sleep. 

“Come now, I’ve made you your favorite. And I have a nice big mugga mornin’ Joe with your name on it,” he encourages.

You unbury your head slightly, looking up at him with still heavy eyes. He smiles as he looks down at you, kissing your forehead.

“I knew if the kisses didn’t do it, the coffee would,” he chuckles.

As you sit up in bed, Steven twists his torso and places a breakfast tray on your lap, presenting you with waffles, fresh cut fruit, and veggie sausage.

“Thank you, hon,” you tell him, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Anythin’ for the birthday girl,” he hums, placing a kiss on your neck that sends goosebumps throughout your body. “I still wish you could’ve taken the day off.”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have these big meetings, I’d probably just stay in bed with you three.”

“Don’t give Jake any ideas—he’d find a way to make those meetings cancelled,” Steven chuckles, stealing a strawberry for himself. You know there’s nothing particularly aphrodisic or phallic about a strawberry, but watching Steven’s lips move around the red fruit and how his tongue licks away the juice sends your head spinning. Steven catches you looking at him and smirks. “Yes, love?”

“Oh, nothing,” you blush as you move to take a bite of the waffles in front of you.

“Mm, likely story,” he hums as he licks his lips once more, bringing his lips to your pulse point for a chaste kiss.

“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to finish these, hon,” you chuckle as you take a closer look at the stack. “You made eight?”

“I’ve seen you devour a stack of waffles with no issue before.”

“Yeah, on a weekend where I don’t have to go do a full day of work later.”

“Then lucky for you, I am here to help,” he smiles, stealing your fork to snatch a bite of waffles for himself. “Bloody hell, I’m a good cook.”

We continue to sit in bed and eat the fluffy breakfast food until you have to get ready for work. As you fix your hair in the bathroom, Steven takes care of the dishes; he finishes drying them as you move from the bathroom to put on your clothes. As you slide on your sweater, Steven shuffles into the bedroom.

“Let me walk you to work today?” he whispers as he lifts out the hair tucked into the collar of your sweater. 

“I want to say yes, but then I wouldn’t want to go in or have you leave,” you respond just as quietly. “Especially after a morning like this one. It’d be the bed predicament on the sidewalk.”

Steven brings his lips to yours slowly as you wrap your arms around his waist. The kiss is tender and lazy, much like how you wish you could spend the day with one another. Steven lets out a defeated sigh as his lips part from yours, resting his forehead against yours.

“Text me when you get there?” he asks as his fingers play with your hair.

“Of course,” you tell him. "Love you."

Steven hands you your purse, letting you adjust it on your shoulder before he places more quick kisses on your lips, murmuring a "Love you more," as you attempt to make it out the door.

“What?” you chuckle as you put your purse on the table by the door. Jake is leaning on the kitchen table like a puppy that needs to be let out.

“I can’t wait for my girlfriend to do part two of her birthday?” Jake smirks as he suavely moves over from the wooden surface and meets you at the door, his hands on your waist as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips.

“And what would part two be, exactly?” you smile as you bite your lip, keeping them just out of reach of his so you don’t spend the rest of the night making out in the kitchen—although, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“I can’t give away all of the details, mi corazón. Now, go to the bedroom, put on what’s laid out, and then we’ll go to part two.”

You smirk at him and scrunch your eyebrows playfully as you try to figure out what he has planned. You do as he asks, nonetheless. Lying on the bed, you see a beautiful sky blue satin dress with an asymmetrical hemline and silver strappy heels. You slide on the dress and it fits like a glove—so much like a glove, you can see the line of your underwear underneath the fabric. Lightly chuckling to myself, you slide off your panties and take off your bra. Usually, you’d be opposed to going full commando, but when you see yourself in the mirror, everything looks better—the dress was made to be worn on your body without undergarments. You slide on the heels to finish off the look and quickly comb your hair to revitalize it from the day. When you meet Jake back in the living room, he licks his lips and smirks as he looks at you, giving you bedroom eyes as you move closer to him.

“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” you coo as you run your hands up and down his chest.

“No,” he smiles as he pulls you in for a searing kiss, squeezing your ass for scientific reasons, you’re sure.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath this, are you?” he breathes against your lips.

“Not a stitch,” you hum as you move his hands off your rear, taking a step back and opening the door with your things in hand. “Lead the way, Lockley.”

He gives you a bedroom smirk and mutters a string of Spanish curses and erotic notions under his breath—something about not realizing how sexy you’d look and what he’d rather be doing to you.

“Don’t worry, babe, I think all of you boys will be able to do those kinds of things later,” you assure him as you pull him down by his tie for a kiss. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Not when vice looks as good as you in satin.”

Jake captures your lips in a passionate and lusty kiss that still maintains an air of chastity to it—his mind on the mission of the surprise, but his heart veering towards your shared bed.

“Come on, cariño,” he rasps as he takes your hand and leads you out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“I don’t even get a hint?” you try again as you walk along the sidewalk.

“Tell me what you think we’re doing.”

“Really? Twenty questions on my birthday?”

“Play along,” he chuckles.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically as you lace your fingers with his. “It’s definitely somewhere fancy?”

“Is it, though?”

“I’m dressed to the nines. I don’t see how it can’t be somewhere fancy.”

“Or I wanted to show you off.”

“Okay,” you say, processing Jake’s cheeky remark, thinking of all the possibilities. “Well, dinner would be too obvious, so it clearly can’t be that.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “Come on, cariño, I thought you knew me better than this.”

“Ouch, gut punch!” you say, poking at it side. “I’m still thinking. You are an expert at being sneaky, I’m trying to process my options.”

“Well, you should come up with one soon. We’re almost there.”

Knowing the area, you scan through all the storefronts you can bring to your mind, when something clicks with your ensemble.

“Jake Lockley, are you taking me dancing?” you hum as you look over to him, his eyes sparkling in the dim London light.

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he chuckles as he guides you to the left into a little courtyard that is all done up where other couples are waiting to start the lessons. “We’re gonna put those hips of yours to a different kind of work. Just for a short while, at least.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything fun or culinary up my sleeves,” Marc says as the two of you walk hand in and through the quiet park, the path lit by beautiful old street lamps.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” you tell him. “I know how much effort you all put into today. It’s nice to wrap it all up with dinner and a little stroll.”

A gentle breeze begins to pick up, and Marc immediately shrugs off his bomber jacket to place on your shoulders. You want to protest, but you love having things that he wears on your body—the warmth form his frame, the smell of his skin and cologne, the silent gesture of love.

“Thanks, baby,” you tell him softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Did you have a good day today?” he asks, matching your tone. “I know you mentioned your meetings—.”

“Yeah, the meetings from hell,” you sigh as you roll your neck, the mere thought of them bringing tension to your body. “Not only could they all have been emails, but they were ridiculously long and were so unproductive that we knew less by the end than we did at the start. Debbie led both.”

“Oh no, not Debbie.”

“Mmhm. Don’t get me started with that one.” You let out a long sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “But it’s all worth it, because I get to come home to an amazing system of men who love me.”

He rests his cheek on top of your head. “We love you, too, baby.”

“How about we go home and take a bath? Wind down from the day. Get naked and wet together.”

“Mm, two of my favorite adjectives.”

“Maybe we can add some other adjectives you like to that mix,” you chuckle, lightly checking his hip with yours.

Taking a turn off the path of the park, you hop on the sidewalk and make the short walk back to the flat, snuggling close in the old elevator as it drags its way up to the top floor. 

“You want me to put on a kettle for tea or coffee or something?” you hum as you unlock the door, tossing your keys into the dish as you make your way in. “Or are we going to save all the warm water for—what are you doing?”

In your living room, Marc is perched down on one knee, a little open box in his hands as he looks up at me with his rich brown eyes.

“We were actually gonna do this next week,” Marc starts, his voice soft, the edges brimming with emotion. “But we thought this might be a really great way to end your birthday.”

“Baby . . .”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I need to begin to tell you how much we all love you. If I did, we’d be here for a hell of a long time, I’d loose feeling in my legs from the knee down, and you’d offer to help me walk over to the bed, just like how you are always there to help me and Steven and Jake with whatever comes up. You see us as whole people. You make us feel whole. You have the biggest, most caring heart that a person can have, and you love so selflessly . . .” Marc sniffles and furrows his brows as he tries to keep his cool. You take a few steps toward him, kneeling down and wiping his tears away with your thumbs. 

“Marc,” you say softly, his name on your tongue dripping with emotions.

“We can’t imagine our lives without you in it, and we never want to,” Marc continues. “Will you marry us?”

“Of course,” you practically sob, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. He holds you back just as firm, neither of you saying a word. Marc is the one who eventually breaks the embrace, moving to take out the ring out of the box to slide it on your finger slowly.

“It’s a pink sapphire, but it looks purple, and you love purple—,” Marc starts.

“—and gold jewelry looks so lovely on your skin, cariño—,” Jake continues.

“—and it’s a vintage settin’ so there’s no ill-environmental effects,” Steven finishes. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“You guys are sure?” you sniffle, your teary eyes frantically scanning their faces. “Are you sure you guys love me? That this is what you want?”

“Mi corazón, where is this coming from?” Jake asks softly, brushing tears off of your cheek. “Of course this is what we want. We’ve never felt this way about anyone before. We only want you, amore.”

“It just doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.”

“It’s very real, love,” Steven says, gentle hands on your shoulders as he leans forward to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “And you already said yes—there’s no take-backs.”

You let out a wet laugh as you move back in to kiss Steven—he always knows just what to say to bring a smile to your face.

“Well, I guess if there’s no take backs.”

As Steven leans forward to kiss you again, and you feel distinct shift just before we part, and you’re met once more with Marc.

“Is it still a yes?” he asks carefully.

“Of course it’s still a yes. I’ve got the three best guys in the world—why wouldn’t I want to make it official?”

Marc smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen in your life. He leans forward to kiss you once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly and picks you up, much to your surprise. The two of you continue to kiss as he walks you to the bed and lays you down on the mattress, only briefly parting from you to brush some stray hairs off of your face.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, his forehead resting on yours, allowing you to feel his eyelashes brush your cheeks. 

“I love you all so much,” you whisper. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Marc gingerly kisses the tip of your nose. “Forever and always.”

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[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 1 (Strangers In The Night)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,222

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: can't believe this is the product of covid-induced hcs and thots between me and @mrs-lockley, thank you so much for encouraging this buddy (also @lunar-ghoulie if i had a nickel for each time you've sent an ask/dm about a WIP and it ended up being where i put all my energy, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's hilarious that it's happened twice).

----------

On nights like tonight, Jake Lockley regrets his choice of profession.

It’s a dreary November evening, darkening by the second as the New York streets grow damp and cold. The wise had decided not to venture out; the blindsided rush across slick pavement to whatever shelter they can find. The desperate stay on the clock and curse their luck.

He should know by now that when a client says they’ll be “just a minute,” it’s a boldfaced lie: even if they have every intention of being efficient, he’s been stranded on the curb more times than he can count.

So he keeps the meter running. He’s seen the duds his regular client has on each week; the man could afford to fork over a few extra bucks. Might even build character.

The steady rhythm of the rain had been fine at first, but after half an hour parked beneath the neon sign of The Paper Moon– hat, coat and gloves doing nothing to ward off the chill creeping into his cab– every raindrop taunts him in his isolation.

To hell with this.

He shuts off the engine, pops his collar, and braces himself before stepping out onto the street. The rain falls fast and hard, so he rushes toward the brick exterior of The Paper Moon. He’s never been inside, but the glowing crescent of the sign had piqued his interest the first time he’d dropped his client here. He may as well see what all the fuss is about.

The doorman– a tall, dapperly dressed unit with a neutral grimace– casts a wary look his way. Jake ducks into the alley beside the building. Guess it’s exclusive.

Through the rain he spots a side door with a meagerly covered stoop, upon which is hunched a smaller, yet equally well-dressed figure. The young man’s tawny complexion pops against the emerald green of his just-too-big blazer, mist gathering in the dark brown waves slicked back from his creased brow. He grips a cigarette between clenched teeth, stuttering curses around it as he strikes a flimsy matchbook to no avail.

“¿Necesitas un fuego?”

At his offer, Jake is met by startled, impossibly wide brown eyes. The shock turns to glee as his face breaks into a toothy smile.

“Sí– sí sería genial, señor.” He makes room on the stoop, his dimpled cheeks betraying his youth. Jake pulls out a lighter and deftly lights the end of his cigarette, earning another dimpled grin after a few christening puffs. “Muchísimas gracias.” 

“No hay problema.” 

He lights one of his own, the smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as he holds out his free hand. “Jake.”

“Mauricio.” His newfound companion grips his hand and shakes vigorously. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, their subtle exhalations and the slowing rain the only sounds between them.

The mood is disrupted by shouting from the other side of the door, followed by clattering and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. The door behind them flies open and a lanky, dark skinned man in a matching green blazer pokes his head outside.

“You’d better get your tail in here, Maurie. She’s in one of her moods tonight.” 

“Rats, alright,” he groans, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out with his heel. Mauricio straightens his blazer and pushes a hand through his hair. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jake. 

“Do you wanna come inside, dry off for a spell? We put on a mean show,” he swears. The kid's face isn't one Jake imagines people say “no” to very often.

“...Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Great! There’s a couple of tables toward the back that should still be free, you can sneak in there no problem.” Mauricio holds the door open a bit wider for Jake to step through. “If anyone gives you any trouble, just tell ‘em you’re with me.” With a wink and another winning smile, he darts off to follow the other blazer.

Jake finds his spot easily enough, taking in the atmosphere as he weaves between tables and patrons. So this is The Paper Moon.

The building’s drab exterior is deceptive: inside is a small lounge, bustling with activity and humming with life. Richly draped walls envelop the space, with ornate lamps and soft candlelight radiating from every table. The room looks as warm as it feels, a welcome relief from Jake’s prior solitude. 

He takes off his soaked coat and loosens his tie. Across the room Jake sees his client– a cold, calculating Mr. Wesley– who gives a curt nod, as if granting his permission to take a load off (for now).

He orders a drink from a slightly bewildered waiter and continues to survey the space. People of all shapes and sizes occupy tables and barstools, with the chatter of at least three languages creating a dizzying buzz around him. The crowd dies down when stage lights flash on at the far end of the room.

Out marches the band: the guy who'd clambered to the back door sits at the piano, cracking his knuckles before playing a few notes on the keys; an older man with a similar complexion props an upright bass in position, riffing along with the scattered piano melody; an impressively mustachioed fellow polishes the mouthpiece of his trumpet; Mauricio settles in behind a set of drums, waving a stick in the air when he spots Jake.

As warm as he's gotten after coming inside, the temperature seems to skyrocket as the click of heels and the shimmer of the last band member crossing the stage sends his heartbeat right into his throat. In walks– no, floats – a vision, evening gown the same color as the richly painted lips that curl into a smile as easily as breathing. Something Jake seems to have forgotten how to do.

He can’t take his eyes off you.

----------

There’s something in the air tonight.

Maybe it’s the smoke lingering on Mauricio’s jacket (you’ve told him time and time again how smoking before a show irritates you; he must have snuck a pack backstage), or maybe the weather has you out of sorts. Whatever it is, you’re one false step away from losing your cool. Which, of course, cannot happen. Not onstage.

As the band warms up, you take one last look in your compact mirror, blot your lipstick, and take a deep breath. It’s showtime.

The moment you step onstage, you turn on the charm. Nothing can touch you up here. Not when there’s music to play, a band to lead. A night to make unforgettable.

You approach the microphone and smile. “Hello again, darlings. Did you miss us while we were away?”

Applause and cheers echo back to you from the audience. There’s a distinct two-toned whistle that rises above the noise, but you don’t think anything of it.

Not until you scan the crowd and see something– someone – that doesn’t belong.

Lounging at the previously unoccupied back table is a man you’ve never seen before. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t know the face and name of everyone who enters your club.

His eyes stay trained on you as you nod to the band to begin. One outlier a bad night will not make– you’ll deal with him later. For now, you let the caress of the opening notes ease the new tension in your body, and you start to sing.

With six shows a week, one would think the routine would become tedious. Quite the opposite: any night you play the same standards with the band is bound to be a good night. The chemistry between you and your boys is perfect– even on an off night like tonight, you still manage to follow each other and make the same hour of music sound brand new.

You lead one song, then another, completely in your own world. Of course, the constant cheers and occasional audience participation don’t hurt. But just when you hit your stride and forget your troubles, that whistle rings out above the noise.

The stranger's on the edge of his seat, rapt attention never leaving the stage. Seems innocent enough, but you’re still on high alert.

The set comes to a close, ending with a vibrant flourish. The band improvises a steady beat as you take a sip of water, then smile once more into the microphone.

“Oh, stop. Really…. well, alright, you can keep going,” you croon at the crowd as they cheer louder. 

You gesture to the band. “Let’s give a big round of applause to The Jays, what do you say?”

“On piano we have the dazzling Jackie Thomas,” you call out as he trills a fancy melody a little louder than the rest. “Followed by this absolute Adonis on the bass, Benny Hayes,” you add as the smooth licks of his instrument sound out a reply.

“Let’s hear it for Leo Castellón and his magnificent mustache on the trumpet,” you tease as he blasts out a tune. “And our baby bird on drums, Mauricio Farrés!” You raise your voice as the youth bangs out a closing rhythm. 

“And as always, I’m Ms. Songbird. We hope you’ll join us again soon, my doves. Goodnight!”

The band plays themselves out as you descend downstage to the front of the room. Time for the next act.

You know how to work a crowd both on and offstage; hospitality is as much a part of the gig as the music. Tonight’s a full house, but you take your time gliding past each table, front to back. Does everyone have their preferred drink? How’s the food? Was the music to their liking? All questions you ask with genuine interest, but you know the answer: everything is perfect.

"Hey, little songbird," a voice calls above the noise.

Everything except him.

You've been avoiding the back table for a while, trying to collect your thoughts before confronting him. No time like the present, I suppose.  

You turn to see the outlier standing by the table he’d commandeered, a shimmering bundle of rhinestones dangling from his hand. The glint of a grin catches the low light the same way your traitorous earring does.

You touch your ear and your face grows hot. “Where did you–”

“Fell off as you floated by the last few tables, angel.” 

Your heels tap out a warning as you approach. Toe-to-toe, with the added height of your shoes, you practically tower over him. Your brow furrows as you size him up: too forward to have something to hide, too laissez-faire to be up to any obvious trouble. All the same, you don't trust him.

You look him up and down; he does the same. "You're not very tall, are you?" More of a challenge than a question as you reach for the rhinestones in his hand.

Leaning back against the table, jewelry dangling just out of reach, his sly smile grows. "Well, miss, I tried to be."

"Right." You snatch the earring back before he says anything else. "I see you also tried to be discreet, and that didn't go so well for you, did it Chuck?"

"Actually, it's–"

“–club policy to check your coat at the door. Something our hostess would have insisted upon, meaning you– ” you emphasize as you lean in, fingertips pressed to the tabletop by his side, "–slipped in under the wire." You search his face for anything to betray his intentions. "Now how did you manage that?”

The stranger lowers himself into his seat, hands raised in surrender. "A little backstage access, courtesy of your drummer there." He nods toward the stage: you catch a glimpse of Mauricio clumsily ducking back behind the curtain. You'll scold him later.

His gaze shifts across the room. “See that fella over there– the one who looks like it'd kill him to smile? I’m just waiting to drive him home, like I do every week.” He grins again, that same look in his eyes. A look that sets you on edge. “Just a humble cab driver, miss– nothing up my sleeves.” 

“Didn't know cabbies could be so exclusive,” you say, still eyeing him. James Wesley has been a regular for a few weeks, but you've never met his driver.

“With what he tips? Doll, I'd do damn near anything he asked.” The stranger chuckles, sipping his drink.

You know what he means: the wait staff has noted a major uptick in gratuities since Mr. Wesley has started frequenting the lounge. 

“Very well,” you offer stiffly. It all checks out, but you get the feeling there's something he's not telling you. “I hope everything is to your liking.” 

You turn to leave, but he takes your hand before you can go far.

“Oh believe me, it is… Ms. Songbird. ” A wink and a smile play on his lips as he swiftly presses them to your knuckles, letting go just as fast. You storm away before giving the satisfaction of showing how flustered you are. 

“Mr. Manalo,” you beckon a waiter as he passes. He stands at attention. You gesture to the table you’d just left, not bothering to look and see if his eyes are still on you.

“Watch out for this one, will you? I get the feeling he isn’t just here for the music.”

----------

A/N: !!!! every story i write becomes my new favorite, but Noir!Jake has carved a pretty special spot in my heart this autumn. so excited to share more of him with y'all!

as always, thank you for reading :)

addtl tag list: @fandxmslxt69 @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[jake-g-lockley]

Hi could I please request with any of the moon boys afternoon in the public library selecting a lot of books because they keep finding different ones by author's you love and they're carry them all and the elderly lady behind the counter thats been watching says that they are a lovely young man and a keeper. Thank you 💜 😊

Escape (Jake Lockley x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be tagged?

A/N: EEEE THIS WAS A CUTE IDEA. I had done something similar with the other two babies, so I hope you don’t mind me choosing Jake <3 yes the most unlikely place you’ll find this man is the library but let's go with it hehe.

Word Count: 1.6 k

Love can be blinding, and Jake feels like it is blaring in his ears through sonnets and poems. He learned from you that to love is to not hurt, but to let things be. To love is to be free. Your tender beauty and kindness had been his pride’s undoing. He didn’t realise that his heart got snatched away until it started beating by the song of your own heart.

The first time he met you, nothing in this universe could have prepared him for the blinding reality that he was going to face. He was so caught off guard by your appearance that he seemed to forget his own name. You had flagged down his cab, hair bellowing in the wind as the first droplets of rain hit the windscreen of his cab.

You immediately had struck up a conversation with him, jabbering away about how a crow stole your bagel in the morning. Jake couldn’t help but laugh at your story, letting your soothing voice rub at his hardened edges.

“Here, call this if you ever have another bad day. You don’t have to flag another cab, just give me a call.” Jake found himself saying, slipping you a note along with your change.

“Oh, you’re too sweet, you don’t have to do this!” You sighed but in reality, you wouldn’t know whether you had the willpower to not call him immediately after he dropped you off at the place you needed to be at.

And that’s exactly what you did. Jake Lockley, the handsome cabbie, became one of your closest friends. He had a sense of humour that made you feel at home, you’d always end up laughing a little too hard when Jake would cook up a joke. Soon, you were sitting in the front seat of his cab and he switched out his newspaper boy cap with sunglasses that complemented the vibe of his curly hair. You often found yourself looking longingly at him wherever he would blast the radio and start singing along to your favourite songs.

Today, you asked him whether he wanted to hang out at the library and he immediately texted you a yes, picking you up in less than 20 minutes. Jake watched as you rolled the window down, letting the wind blow in your hair as you smiled blissfully. The weather was tolerable and Jake was extremely happy. Your leg bounced as it usually did and Jake fought the urge to place his hand on your thigh and steady it, instead choosing to grip the steering tighter.

You skipped up the stairs of the library once you got there, and Jake followed you, absolutely mesmerised by the spring in your step. Once you realised that you were getting too far away from Jake, you hung back and took a hold of his hand, surprising him. He lurched forward, his chest colliding with your back. He immediately murmured his apology, still in awe with you.

You breathed in deeply, the scent of the library filling your lungs with a deep memory. Your grandma used to bring you here and read you books and she encouraged your love for them.

“If you wanted to escape, this is the safest way to do it, child.” she used to say and that's what you did every weekend.

Why did you bring Jake with you then?

The question plagued your mind as you pulled him through rows of books, the sound of Jake’s boots thudding against the carpet the only thing keeping you held down to Earth. Slowly, you let go of Jake’s hand and trailed off, absolutely enamoured by the books before you. Jake slowly drifted off too, his headmate begging for him to pull one of the books that he really needed from the shelf.

Jake rolls his eyes and pulls the book before turning to look for you. All his eyes saw were the rows of books, you nowhere in sight. Jake shakes his head and smiles to himself, gently tapping the spine of the book with the palm of his hand. It wasn’t long before he found you. A stack of books were balanced on your hip and supported by one of your arms, the other hand holding a book too close to your face as you scanned the page. You readjusted yourself as one of the books began to slip from the stack and Jake hurried forward.

He eased out the books from your grip and held onto them. You turned and smiled at him, blinking up at him with big eyes that made him feel mushy inside. You stood on your toes and placed the book you were holding on top of the pile Jake was holding, before placing a soft kiss on his cheekbone. Jake’s face flamed red hot. He’d never been kissed on the cheek before and he didn’t know how to react.

“Thanks.” he mumbled and his headmates roared with laughter like an old Hollywood laugh track.

“You’re welcome.” you smiled and turned, walking towards the next shelf, feeling proud of yourself for that move.

“She’s walking you like a dog, mate!” Steven chuckled as Jake began to float behind you again.

“As if you won’t literally pass out if you were fronting.” Jake huffed under his breath.

You frowned at the shelf, realising the book you wanted wasn’t there. You decided to ask Beatrice, the little old lady at the counter to check the records for you. Beatrice was already smiling at you, her favourite regular but there was something odd about her smile.

“Heya, Ms. Bea! I just need a title searched in the system.” you politely asked with a smile.

“Hi, darling, sure.” with a few taps of her keyboard, she announced where the book was and you grinned excitedly, almost uttering your thanks when Beatrice smiled at you again.

“You aren’t going to introduce me to the beautiful boy hiding behind the books?” she asked, and gave you a pointed look and your eyes widened instantly.

“Uh, yea! This is Jake, Jake this is Ms. Beatrice!” you quickly introduced them.

Jake carefully set the books onto the counter and took the lady’s hand, kissing the back of it. Beatrice giggled like a school girl and you gave Jake an exasperated look.

“Oh, dear, I most definitely approve. This one here is a keeper, alright.” Beatrice says and now it was your turn to cosplay a red tomato.

Jake let out a beautiful laugh that ringed deep in your heart.

“Really, trust me, my husband was like you, still is, comes here everyday bringing me lunch. I thought romance was dead but I’m so glad to see it blooming amongst the paths of unsaid words.” Beatrice says, clutching her and to her heart as she looks between the two of you.

Jake and you were frozen to the spot, your eyes as big as owls. You snapped out of it first, thanking Beatrice and pulling Jake with you, who quickly scooped the pile of books in his arms and followed you.

You quickly found your reading corner and sat down, Jake following suit.

“Sorry about Beatrice.” you say after the loud thudding of your heart settled.

“Why are you sorry about Beatrice?” Jake was taken back, out of all the things you could have said, you choose to say that.

“You’re probably weirded out by what she said, about romance and all.” you mumbled, hanging your head.

Jake was still confused at your words, trying to absorb them as silence enveloped the two of you.

“You know what, I really do not know what to say, so I’m just gonna show you.” Jake says, lifting your chin up and leaning towards you before you could make out what was going on.

His lips met yours so gently that you thought he had touched your lips with flower petals. Your eyes were wide open and you struggled to comprehend what was happening. Jake snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you against him, making your mouth drop open with a gentle lick of his tongue. Your eyes fluttered closed and you found yourself losing yourself to the momentum that had been caused by Jake hurling your relationship past the cliff of a very unknown cavern.

You were kissing Jake, you were kissing Jake fucking Lockley.

He pulled away first, keeping his face incredibly close to you.

“Okay, now I know what to say. I’m not the kind that particularly chooses to love romance but I think I’ll be okay if it is with you.” he shrugged. “Besides, I also think I don’t mind you seeing me old and wrinkly like Ms. Bea’s husband.”

You were stunned, this was not the way you intended your day to go. Your eyes welled up in tears and you busied yourself by taking Jake’s hand in yours and kissing his knuckles before holding it close to your chest.

“I was in love with you the second you threw the door of my cab open. Didn’t expect you to call at all, but when you did I felt like I took my heart and threw it at you, to hear your voice through my phone, that was everything to me.” Jake continued, gazing lovingly into your watery eyes.

“I might be in love with you too, Lockley.” you sigh, a teardrop escaping as your eyes closed. “Everynight, you’re in my dreams and you’re my escape.”

Jake let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding and gathered you close. It was going to take a lot to get him away from you. You soon found yourself with your head in his lap, your longing drifting into pure bliss as his soft poetic voice filled the air with beautiful words.

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

taglist: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes (where’d she go 🥺) @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @bloodredwolfsbane @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @spookyysilverr @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie @pimosworld

[spacecowboyhotch]

Kinktober Day 6: Phone Sex

pairing: jake lockley x fem!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, jake being a tease and really hot (as usual)

wc: 535

an: for my bb @juneknight. smooshin (perhaps smoochin) you 😚

kinktober masterlist | moonknight masterlist

“C’mon, honey, it’s been a week,” Jake croons down the line, his voice much more soft than usual.

“And who’s fault is that?” You ask— you want to say Marc, he’s the one who started to piece together crumbs for this excursion. But, you know that he wouldn’t have done it without input from Jake and Steven.

“The coward who won’t show his fucking face. But, I don’t wanna talk about him.”

Heat burns your cheeks as he redirects the conversation, “No, you want to talk about sex. It’s dirty, Jake.”

The two of you have been going back and forth. He wants you to talk dirty to him so that he can get off. He’s been buttering you up since he called, but you’ve vehemently protested. If anyone is the expert on dirty talk in this relationship it’s him— all of them really. You don’t want to embarrass yourself.

“Not just about sex, about how soft and wet and tight—“

“Jake,” You whine shyly, shifting as you lay in bed.

The sound drives him wild, he’s hard, palming at himself through his boxers. He can picture you laid in his bed, looking so sweet, smelling so sweet in one of his shirts and nothing else.

“Such a prude, a sweet innocent girl, hmm? I don’t think so,” He teases.

“Yes,” You say indignantly, lifting your chin in defiance.

He takes a deep, ragged breath as he continues to tease you, “Really? I don’t think a sweet innocent girl would beg for my cock.”

“Maybe our definitions are different,” You say weakly, noticing the ache that grows between your thighs.

“And so defiant,” He muses softly, his breath still a little labored.

You open your mouth to say something snarky but then there’s something happening in the background that you can’t make out, something soft. Something wet. You hold your breath, pressing the phone closer to your ear. You can’t see it but Jake smiles at your silence, knows exactly what you’re doing.

“Can you hear me?” He whispers playfully, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re— are you— touching yourself?” You ask breathily.

“I’m teaching you,” He corrects. “Are you wet? Needy?”

“N-no.”

“My desperate innocent girl. No ache between those thighs? I bet you are, bet you're squeezing those thighs together trying to relieve yourself. It’s not as good as my cock is it? Not even your fingers, none of your toys.”

All you can do is whimper, and it drives him insane, closer to his peak as he strokes himself at a steady pace, “Fuck, you’re so fucking sweet. S’close just teasing you. Just picturing how your pussy would squeeze me tight.”

“Jake, I—“

Whatever you’re about to say is cut off by a long, deep groan from him. It’s a sound you know well, once that you love to hear and you wish that you could see him. You want to see the way his brows knit together, the way his mouth falls open as he cums.

“Fuck. You here still?”

“Yeah I…guess you didn’t need my help?” You breathe, clearly affected.

He grins, “You helped plenty. Now— do you need some help?

oscar taglist: @honeybrowne, @pastanoodles11, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @stevengrcnt, @greg-montgomery, @lesbianhotch, @mccn-bcys, @marc-spectorr, @whatthefishh, @simpforbritgents, @maisondenachtai, @silversprings-mp3, @flightlessangelwings

[joyful-soul-collector]

Eclectic Ensemble

Pairing: Steven Grant, Marc Spector, and Jake Lockley x gn!reader (reader wears slightly more masculine clothing but other than that it's pretty neutral)

Summary: Reader decides they're going to ask the moon boys out on a date. Things do not go perfectly to plan

Tags: SFW, asking out, neighbors to lovers (is that a tag??), swearing, uhhh reader is a major fucking dork who talks to their cat like it can understand them, no TWs it's all fluff

Wordcount: 1288

Read on Ao3

You couldn’t figure out why you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You’d had crushes before, and those were tolerable, you would daydream, but you’d snap back to reality at some point, and go about your day like normal. 

With the man across the hall though… that was something else entirely. 

You tried to convince yourself it was just the mystery of him, the fact that he seemed to have three different accents depending on the day, how one day he’d be cheerful and awkward while the other he’d be suave or stand-offish or nervous. 

But you couldn’t convince yourself of that, because even after he explained to you that he had DID and was not in fact a method actor of some kind, you still found yourself fascinated by him despite the mystery being solved. 

Fascinated by all three of them honestly. 

You’d talked to each of them in the hall before, learned things about them, even visited Steven at the museum a couple days ago. That’s what started it honestly, you’d chatted for hours after he got off work, each of them periodically switching out to have turns to speak with you. Sitting next to them by the fountain, rambling on about anything and everything as the sky grew darker and darker, it was the most fun you’d had in ages. And by the end of the night, with the way you couldn’t seem to shake the thoughts of them, you’d think you were in love with all three of them.

Which is also part of the reason you were so nervous to be doing this. 

You folded the collar of your dress shirt down, sighing at your reflection in the mirror on your closet door. 

“What do you think? Too much?” You turned to look at your cat, who was sitting on your desk, not at all minding that she was wrinkling all your papers. She stared at you for a moment, then licked her paw. “Yeah. Too much.”

There’s no way they’ll say yes, you thought as you unbuttoned your shirt. Even if one of them likes me back, what’re the chances the other two will be willing to date me if they don’t like me? Even lower chances that two of them will be interested, and definitely not all three of them. This is such an awful idea, why the hell am I doing this?

As you were undoing the third button you heard someone walking down the hall outside your front door. Normally this wouldn’t be cause for alarm, but you recognized the voice drawing closer and closer. 

“Yeah, I know it’s your turn to choose dinner tonight, but I’m just saying, could you maybe not go wild with the hot sauce this time? You always do that and then leave me and Steven to deal with the stomachache after--”

A voice speaking in Spanish cut him off, and you would’ve started laughing if the panic hadn’t seized you right in that moment. 

They weren’t supposed to be home this early! You were supposed to have another hour to get ready, to rehearse what you wanted to say, to work up enough courage!

You didn’t even stop to think about what you were doing because you could hear them getting out their keys, and if you didn’t do it now you weren’t sure you ever would. So you sprinted to your front door and flung it open. 

There stood the man you’d been waiting for. It was clear that Steven was the one who dressed them that day, wearing his oversized clothes, but the perpetually frowning face 100% belonged to Marc right now. He glanced over his shoulder at you. 

“Oh, hey Y/N! How’re y--” He cut off as he fully turned around to see you, and it was only then that you remembered exactly what you were wearing. 

Not only was your shirt halfway unbuttoned, but you were wearing a rather old tank top underneath it, your bedhead was not the hot kind, you didn’t have any shoes or socks on, and of course, you were wearing a pair of fluffy blue pajama pants covered in cat fur. 

Marc was clearly trying not to smile, but it wasn’t working very well, and for a moment you were glad for it, as Marc seemed to smile the least out of the three. 

“I uh--Well I--Okay I was going to ask you something,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, running a hand through your hair as a nervous habit, but also just to try and get it under control a bit. “But just--Just hang on, lemme put on actual clothes--”

“Pfft, you’re fine, we don’t care about that, you should see the things Marc tries to make us go out in some days,” Jake said, his Spanish accent replacing Marc’s American one. “He would wear pajamas to work if me and Steven didn’t stop him. Go head, what’s up?”

You stared at him for a second, and in that moment you remembered exactly why you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about them. 

Because no matter who was talking to you, each of them had that same soft look in their eye. The one that made you feel instantly better after an awful day, that made you smile when you were worried, that made you feel like you could be yourself in a way no one else did.

The one that didn’t care at all how disheveled you looked right now, only about the question you wanted to ask him. 

“Do you wanna go out sometime? Maybe for coffee?” you said. Jake blinked, and immediately his demeanor changed, his head tilting to the side as fidgety fingers rose up to touch the strap of his bag. 

“You mean, like a date?” Steven said in his British accent. “You’re asking us out? All of us?”

You nodded and suddenly felt like looking anywhere but at their face, running a hand nervously through your hair again. 

“You uh, you guys can think about it of course, you don’t have to answer right--”

“We’d love to,” Steven interrupted. You looked up to find him smiling brightly at you, the excitement so evident in him he practically glowed. 

“Really? ‘We’ as in, all three of you?”

“Yes, yeah, er, well we've been meaning to for a while really, we wanted to ask you at the fountain the other day but… I dunno, we weren’t sure you liked any of us that way, much less all three of us.”

You gave a small laugh and leaned your arm up on the door frame, shaking your head. 

“I honestly don’t know how I couldn’t like all three of you. Really it’s a surprise that all three of you like me.”

You gestured pointedly to your rather comical outfit, and Steven laughed. 

“I dunno,” he said, tilting his head and gazing at your eclectic ensemble. “It’s kind of cute, in a messy sort of way. Jake and Marc think so too.”

“Oh? Well maybe I’ll wear this on our date then.”

He laughed again, and you chatted for a few more minutes, long enough to set up a coffee date for Sunday, before Jake said he needed to get started on dinner (much to Steven and Marc’s annoyance). 

Once you were back on your flat with the door closed behind you, you punched the air with triumph, letting out a laugh of both relief and excitement. 

“YES, yes yes yes! Fuck yeah!” 

Your cat stared at you with her head cocked as you did a victory lap around your living room, before returning to licking her fur, and you liked to imagine she silently believed in you all along. 

THE END

If you made it this far, congratulations, you have read the first x reader fic I have ever written lol. Lemme know what you think, I hope you enjoyed!

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

OMG PLS DO COCKWARMING W THE MOOMBOYS AAAAA. and why didnt u tell me that before 👿👿👿

- 🦅🇺🇸

NOW YOU’RE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE🫡 baby I got a whole ass catalog (not really, it’s mainly steven lmao) thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

COCKWARMING WITH THE MOONBOYS

moonboys x female reader (not as the moon system)

warnings. 18+ only!! cockwarming, writers brainrot, mdni

cockwarming with marc:

im thinking it will all be very intense and passionate - his gaze would never leave yours, watching you with lidded and focused eyes. you'd be below him, back on the mattress with him above, his cock tucked nicely inside you. he'd have his hands cupped around your face, holding you close as you kiss - it would be slow and sloppy, kinda messy and deep, like a real nasty, carnal snog. he'd cage you to the bed, and you'd wrap yourself around him - hugging him like a bear on a tree. he'd swallow your moans and his own would vibrate your tongue. he wouldn't move - just holding you like that, his dick snug inside you. towards the end (before he starts to move) he'd perch between your thighs, keeping his cock glued inside, and would play with your clit - thumbing over it, using himself as a plug for you. he'd make you cum on his cock using just his thumb, and only then would he fuck you -neigh, make love to you- making you cum all over again

cockwarming with steven:

you'd be straddling him, his cock stuffed inside as you both come down. the side of your face would be nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he strokes over your back - soft, small, gentle circles on your heated skin. he'd be catching his breath, chest rising and falling as he evens out, muttering sweet praises beside your ear about how you're his sweet girl. he strokes over the back of your head too, palm gliding over your hair - holding you almost protectively. super comforting and sweet - lots of reassurance afterwards. maybe you both fall asleep, keeping his dick tucked inside as you drift into a light slumber

cockwarming with jake:

you'd both be on the sofa, you perched upon his thighs/ crotch, your back against his chest. he'd be mean with it, not moving - leaving you completely desperate for any kind of movement. he'd grip your waist/ wrap his arms around your middle - stilling you. he loves the way you twitch and tighten around him, like you're begging for more. he'd rest his chin on your shoulder, looking down at your pussy with him wedged so perfectly inside. (not sure the proportions would be correct, but oh well, just pretend) you'd be a leaking mess, all of your wet dripping down his cock, pooling around his balls, making a mess on the couch. he'd play with your tits from behind, groping and squeezing them, muttering in spanish about you being needy. he wouldn't fuck you until you reach your absolute wits ends - a crying, desperate, frustrated mess - quivering and whimpering, begging for him to move

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

im gonna, uhm, yeah.. what? okay bye

steven taglist: @thewinterv @bubblezuku @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @queerponcho @kinglokisqueen4ever

[stevenssacrab]

Meet The Parents

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: You bring Jake home to meet your parents and expect a peaceful night's rest after a successful dinner, but even with your parents sleeping right next door, Jake can't help himself.

Rating: 18+ smut (minors, do not interact)

Warnings: Decent amount of Spanish dirty talk, oral sex (male and female receiving), sneaky sex, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, overstimulation, cream pie, aftercare

Word Count: 2.0k

a/n: The dirty talk has changed me as a woman, I will never be the same lmao, may or may not have fantasized about this exact situation, but I can neither confirm nor deny, translations are at the end :D

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

“Here you go, Mom.” handing your mother a stack of dirty plates.

“Thank you, angel,” she says lovingly as she submerges the plates in the soapy water, the sound of the evening news filling the cool air; you sigh in relief; the hard part is over, bringing someone home to meet your parents is always so nerve-racking, but Jake did so well, what with being able to speak to your father and mother in their native tongue; that will always win you some extra brownie points.

“I like him,” your mother says contentedly, moving clean dishes over for you to rinse.

“Yeah? I knew you would,” you giggle lightly, hugging her softly; your smile has not left your face since you got home.

“He makes you happy, and that’s all I could ever want for you, angel.” She smiles brightly at you; you suddenly hear a loud boom of laughter coming from your living room; you beam, relieved that you had built it all up in your head; of course, Jake is doing well; he’s the most charming man you’ve ever met, he could charm absolutely anyone.

“Smart move getting one that speaks Spanish,” she elbows you gingerly and smirks to herself.

“I know!” You laugh easily, carefully rinsing dishes and placing them in the drying rack.

“He’s just the sweetest thing, and he treats me so well, mama,” you said with delight laced in every word; you leaned against the counter, sighing happily, savoring this moment, every emotion, every thought, for years to come.

“I’m glad, angel,” she says, caressing your arm tenderly. “Let’s join them,” she said excitedly, pulling you into the living room. You spend the next few hours discussing how you met and everything in between before heading off to bed.

“Que tengas buenas noches” Jake says, shaking your dad’s hand.

“Y que tengas buenas noches señora,” he says enchantingly to your mother, kissing her hand gently; your mother giggles and playfully slaps his arm.

“Por favor, Llámame mamá,” she says, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Goodnight, Mom,” you whisper in her ear as you hug her, walking back to Jake with a smile. You reach out to him, and he smoothly captures your hand, interlacing your fingers, and smiles back at you; you lead him into your childhood room and gently close the door behind you. You squeal excitedly, jumping into Jake's arms; he catches you, laughing with you.

"That went so well!" You cheer happily; Jake captures your lips with a smile as he roams his hands all over you; you whimper into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, getting lost in the feeling. Jake caresses your neck, tugging you into a deeper, hungrier kiss, his tongue begging to enter your mouth; you part your lips; you've never been one to deny him; he messily walks you back into your dresser.

"Jake," you whine between kisses; he holds you in place, hunger growing with each passing second

"We can't; my parents are next door," you say feebly; Jake kisses down your face and leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck, stopping only to suck harshly in all your sweet spots; you close your eyes and let out a quiet, breathy moan, Jake grips your hips and lifts you onto the dresser, slotting himself between your legs, lips still abusing your sensitive neck. You place your hands on Jake's chest and try to push him back; he growls and grips your wrists tightly, pinning them to your side.

"I don't care; you've been testing me all day today; you looked so domestic, and fuck, it was so sexy," he says lustfully; taking your lips in his, you surrender to the growing ache between your thighs and feverishly kiss him back as if you're trying to steal the air from his lungs, you grip his shirt tightly and wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer, he groans lowly. He slides you to the edge of the dresser, grinding into you agonizingly slow, desperate for any friction; the room fills with your panting and suppressed moans. Jake growls and picks you up effortlessly, moving you to the bed and gently setting you down; the room feeling sticky and hot, you reach for him and pull him closer by the belt loops; you slowly undo his belt, staring intensely into Jake's eyes, pupils dilated with lust and hunger, you know you shouldn't do this, but you want this just as much as he does, maybe even more, you tug his pants down, pooling it at his ankles, your mouth salivating at the imprint of Jake's hard cock through his underwear, you lean in and gently kiss the tip of his cock, locking eyes as you hum from the taste precum leaking from his tip. You lift your hand and rub his shaft up and down slowly, licking your lips; you pull his underwear down, whimper at the size; it stands tall, the tip red and leaking, suddenly aware of how much saliva you have in your mouth you swallow, sticking your tongue out you lick a low streak from the base to the tip wrapping your lips around the head, and suck gently, just enough to feel good, but not sufficient to satisfy; you close your eyes at the taste, losing yourself in the soft groans Jake lets out, he buries his hand in your hair, guiding your mouth down his cock, he hums with a satisfied groan, throwing his head back, slowly fucking your mouth.

"God, you're perfect," he says breathlessly, watching how easily you take his cock; cock deep in your throat, you moan at the praise, gritting his teeth, he suddenly buried his other hand in your hair, pushing down his cock, he holds you there for second before pulling away to let you breathe, you gasps and cough slightly, a string of saliva connecting you to his dick, eager to please you swallow his cock again, hitting the back of your throat, you focus on not gagging and moan around his cock, Jake groans and snaps his hips in and out of your mouth, punishing the back of your throat, his eyes closed, face contorted in bliss, wholly engrossed in your mouth.

"Fuck baby, asi," he moans quietly; you can only moan, devouring his long cock, mascara running down your face.

“Que hermosa te ves asi,” he whispers, gently wiping your tears away.

"You like me fucking your mouth like this?" he whispers lowly, panting faintly, gripping your hair tightly; you whimper all over his cock, nodding slightly.

"With your parents in the next room? Dirty girl," he says sensuously; you whimper quietly, grinding your aching pussy into the mattress, whining hushedly.

"So close, baby," he breathes, picking up the pace, brutally fucking your mouth; you feel his cock twitch you know he's almost there; you lift your hands and softly cup his balls; Jake grits his teeth and holds your head down as he cums down your throat, you swallow everything he gives you.

"Fuck" he says, pulling you off him; you whimper, lightly rubbing the base of your throat.

"Lo siento, cariño," he coos, caressing your cheek, leaning down to kiss your lips gently; you smile up at him.

"Lay down for me, cariño," he says affectionately; you follow his directions and lay back, and he crawls onto the bed, slowly kissing up your legs, then the insides of your thighs. You shiver, and he laughs softly, letting his hands roam.

"Relax baby, let me take care of you," he assures you; he gently pulls down your pants and underwear, groaning softly, he kitten licks your swollen clit, and you gasp louder than you meant to.

"Shh, tranquila mi vida," he whispers softly to you, kissing your inner thigh soothingly, gradually kissing up to your pussy, and placing light kisses on your clit.

"Jake, please," you say, grinding into the air, desperate for anything he'd give you; Jake laughs lightly to himself; he licks from your entrance to your clit, and you whine louder than expected; you quickly cover your mouth with your hand, eyes widen in fear.

“It's okay, mi vida, they’re sleeping, don’t worry,” he says reassuringly, his calloused finger massaging your clit in painfully slow circles, watching your face twist in pleasure.

“Fuck, Jake,” you sigh breathlessly, bucking your hips lightly; Jake gently caresses your clit, his tongue teasing your hole before tenderly sliding inside, savoring your taste with a low moan.

“Mmm,” you keen quietly, biting your lips harshly to suppress your moans. Jake fucking your pussy with his tongue, rubbing your swollen clit.

“Más, por favor,” you utter. Jake groans loudly; he loves it when you speak Spanish to him, especially if it’s during sex; he plunges two fingers into your tight hole without warning, your mouth dropping open in a silent scream, chest rising and falling rapidly, your eyebrows knitted together as you watch Jake mercilessly fuck your wet pussy.

“Oh fuck, Jake,” you whisper harshly, hand covering your mouth; Jake wraps his lips around your inflated clit, sucking gingerly even as he abuses your taut hole with his long rough fingers, eyes locked on yours, you feel that familiar burning in the pit of your stomach, you bury your hand in Jake’s hair, grinding yourself against his buttery tongue.

“Dámelo todo,” you whimper impatiently; Jake growls loudly, smacking your hand away; he shoves a third finger inside, hitting your sweet spot perfectly; you whine muffledly, panting loudly; Jake sucks brutally at your clit; you can do nothing but take it all, selfishly; you pull your legs back for better access, watching Jake eat your pussy like a starving man.

"Jake, I'm so close," you mewl, gasping for air; Jake moans against your clit, adding a whole new sensation; you cum around his fingers with a quiet wail, legs shaking violently, even still, Jake doesn't relent, sucking your sensitive bud cruelly.

"Otra vez," he says possessively, curling his fingers inside, hitting that familiar spot; it's all too much. You're cumming again, body shaking vigorously; Jake slips his fingers out of you; he sucks your cum off his fingers with a groan, eyes closing, fully enthralled in your taste; he grabs you by your throat, pulling you to his mouth, he kisses you possessively, sliding his tongue inside, you moan lightly, tasting your cum on his tongue, he bites your bottom lips harshly, before uttering.

"Think you can handle one more baby?" he coos, thumbs caressing your lips; you say nothing, just nod slowly, scooting further back on the bed, pulling him along by his shirt; he kisses you with a smile; he knows you can take everything he gives you and more, settling between your legs, wrapping them around his waist, he slides in with ease, you both groan softly, entranced by the way your velvet walls pull him in, silently begging for more, he brutally snaps his hips forward, burying his cock deep inside you, your jaw falling slack, pants falling roughly out your mouth, you look down, watching his cock disappear in you, Jake grabs your right leg and flings it over his shoulder, pounding viciously into you, you open your mouth to moan, but Jake catches your lips silencing you, Jake picks up the pace, sadistically flicking his hips into you, you grip his arms tightly, nails digging into his skin, he hiss, enjoying the pain, he's always had a sadistic side to him, you maneuver your hand to your clit, expertly rubbing circles, Jake smacks your hand away, and replaces it with his thumb, flicking over your frail bud, you whine behind pursed lips, your walls pulsating around his cock, Jake growls lowly, his hips stuttering.

"Cum inside," you choke out, wrapping your legs around his waist, locking him in; Jake growls, fucking you savagely.

"Fuck fuck fuck" he pants, gripping your hips brutally; he cums deep inside with a stifled groan, you following right behind him; after a while, he pulls out of your leaking hole, gritting his teeth, he swiftly lifts off the bed, are strides to the bathroom, he comes out with a moist hand towel.

"Relájate, déjame ayudarte," he says warmly, carefully wiping up the mess; being extra cautious around your more sensitive parts, he gently massages the bruises forming on your hips, kissing them delicately, kissing his way up your torso, across your neck, and stopping on your lips, kissing you affectionately, he smoothly pulls the covers over you both and give you one last kiss.

"Te amo, mi alma"

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Translations:

Que tengas buenas noches = Have a good night Señora = Ma'am Por favor, Llámame mamá = Please call me mom Asi = Just like that Que hermosa te ves asi = How beautiful you look like this Cariño = Dear Lo siento = I'm sorry Tranquila mi vida = Calm down, my life Más, por favor = More, please Dámelo todo = Give me everything Otra vez = Again Relájate, déjame ayudarte = Relax, let me help you Te amo, mi alma = I love you, my soul

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I have a request if you're taking any. A Jake Lockley x fem!reader. The reader is dating them but is kind of scared of Jake (is very quiet and weary around him, doesn't like his physical touch) because he was cold and mean to her when they first met (he wanted to "protect" Steven) but now all he wants is to hold and love her. The opportunity finally arrives when she's sick and needs his help. (He forcefully fronts bc he's not letting this opportunity go to waste)

Of course! Thank you so much for the ask!

Ahhh, this one got away from me a bit. (And did a bit of it's own thing) I went in to write some angst with Jake and just ended up writing soft!Jake (again, because I can't help myself.) I hope this is okay!

Embrace

Jake Lockley X F!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: Overuse of railroad sentences, typos, hurt/comfort, previous Jake & reader not getting along, sick!reader, fluff, implied Steven x reader and Marc x reader, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 1789

_______________________________________

He can’t stop playing it over and over again in his mind. The image looping in a relentless merry-go-round. 

A light touch. His gloved fingertips barely skimming your skin as he tapped you on the arm. A gentle warning that he-they were back. 

You’d had your headphones on as you did the washing up, miming along a song whose beat bled out into the air around you. 

It was like you had known it was him on some subconscious level even before he reached you. 

Your reaction was etched into his skin, carved behind his eyelids. The flinch. The instinctive movement away from him. It was like a knife hacking the flesh away from his chest. 

You had looked at him as you paused your music. Your eyes a little wide and weary before you gave him a small smile. “Am I in the way?” 

The air had stuck in his throat, crushing him under the weight of his breath.

Jake didn’t trust his voice, not in that moment. He swallowed and shook his head. 

You nodded, looking at his hands instead of his face and went back to the washing up. You didn’t turn your music back on. 

.

It had been his fault. Jake knew that. He had been more than distant, cold, purposely keeping you further than an arm’s length and trying to drag Marc and Steven away from you as well. 

You had been a stranger. A danger. A variable that he couldn’t keep a constant eye on. 

There was a small mix up, some bad intel when Jake went out of his way to check on your background - just in case - by the time he realised that he had been working on the wrong information the damage was done. 

.

Jake watched in the background as Steven travelled home, keeping quiet as Marc and Steven talked. They had taken to wearing large over the ear headphones so that they could speak freely in public and look like they were just on the phone. Not that anyone in London would even notice if they were talking to themselves or not. 

He had stayed quiet as Steven showered and got changed, as Marc hoovered and then washed the leftover morning dishes. 

He didn’t even interject in the discussion of what to make for dinner, which was quickly becoming a squabble. 

It was only interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and you shuffling into the flat. 

But your doorsteps, they sounded… wrong. Too heavy and laboured, missing the normal bounce to your step. 

Marc was about to call out a greeting when Jake pushed to the front, cutting off his words before he had even opened his mouth. 

‘Jake!’ Marc’s voice was loud, but fading as he fell back. 

As Steven spoke at the exact same time. ‘Mate, you can’t just do that-” 

“Something’s wrong.” Jake muttered, his muscles tense. He moved towards the front door, keeping his footsteps light and making the minimal amount of possible sound. He stopped when you came into view.

You were slouched on the settee, crumpled up and drawn in on yourself. Your work bag was still on your lap, your coat and shoes on. Eyes shut. 

There was a horrible twist in his stomach, a wave of panic that buzzed across every nerve. You were hurt. 

He rushed forward, all previous grace forgotten.

You didn’t open your eyes until he put a hand firmly on your shoulder, an action that was worrying enough, “where are you injured?” He frowned deeply, trying to scan you over for any bruising or open wounds. 

“What, I’m not,” your voice came out all stuffy. Bunked up and a little garbled as if you’d just been woken from sleep. 

Realisation dawned.  You were sick, not hurt. He should pull back. He should get Steven or Marc, let them help you. That’s what you would want. 

“I’m just a bit,” your eyes were glassy, your reactions a little delayed. You motioned to your head with your hands. “Cotton wool-y.”

Jake put his hand on your forehead, you were burning hot.

He tutted and knelt down on the ground and began to take off your shoes. Quick and precise in his movements. 

You frowned. Your mind slowly catching up. “Jake?” 

He didn’t pause, didn’t answer. But swallowed when you stiffened slightly. 

“You don’t need to do that.” You whispered.

Jake continued, focused on his task, his warm hand on your calf as he eased your foot out of your boot and placed it carefully on the side before he started on the other. 

You cleared your throat. “You don’t have to.”

He set your other boot next to the first and slowly stood. His movements were slow, precise, careful to not surprise you. As if you were some wild skittish animal that could be spooked by the smallest thing. 

Jake took your work bag from your lap and hung it up on the side, where you liked to keep it. You followed his movements, nerves eating into your stomach. He didn’t have to do this. You were sure he didn’t want to do this. You were nothing more than a burden to him, an annoyance that he had to put up with for Marc and Steven’s sake. You-

“Come on,” he spoke softly, his eyes still downcast as he lent down towards you, gently taking your hands in his to help you to stand. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Jake,” the urge to pull your hands back, away from his touch was so strong, but you let him help you up. 

He ignored your words, wrapping one arm around your shoulders, his other hand on your arm as he began to guide you to the bedroom. 

“Jake,”

He stared at his feet,his lips pressed together into a tight line. His long, dark eyelashes were almost kissing his skin in his determination not to catch your gaze. 

“Jake.” You stopped, forcing Jake to as well. Your voice cracked as you spoke, your throat sore and aching. You swallowed. “I don’t need you to do this.”

He looked at you then.

You were expecting to see relief on his face. A nod. For his hands to leave you so that he could go about his evening without having to carry the burden of caring about you for his alter’s sake. 

Instead, his expression made a sharp cut of emotion sink into your chest. 

He stared at you with glassy eyes, his mouth slightly parted. He looked crestfallen. He looked heartbroken.

You didn’t know what to do.

There was a long moment before he spoke. “Please.”

You frowned in confusion. 

“Please,” he repeated. “Please let me look after you.” “Please don’t,” he glanced down again and screwed up his eyes, clenching his jaw and dropping his arms to his sides. Your skin was cold without his heat.

Slowly, you reached out and took his hand. A light touch as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his. He squeezed back tightly. 

“Please let me look after you.” Jake whispered. “Please.”

You cupped his cheek with your free hand and he lent into it without hesitation, closing his eyes and breathing out heavily. As if the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. 

“Jake?” 

He opened his eyes, a painful vulnerability dancing in them. 

“Please look after me.” You whispered. 

He smiled, the expression lighting up his whole face in one glorious moment. You’d never seen him smile like that before. 

He led you to bed, only leaving so that you could get changed into your pyjamas. He came back, calling out to you at first to check that you had finished changing your clothes, with his arms full. He carefully placed a new box of tissues and a packet of strepsils on your bedside table, along with some paracetamol and a cooling gel pack that was intended for headaches - explaining that it was Steven’s and he didn’t know if it would be helpful. 

You beamed at him as you sat up in bed, but didn’t get a chance to thank him as Jake rushed out of the room again, coming back quickly with your favourite mug. Steam wafted out of it. 

“It’s ginger,” he said, adding it to the collection on your bedside table, and making sure it sat perfectly in the middle of the coaster. “With some honey, it should help your throat. I can hear that you're a bit croaky.”

The honey touched your heart. There was only one pot of it in the flat, Jake’s vitamin honey that you had never touched. The honey that he refused to share with Marc or Steven, even going to the extent of hiding it. It was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself. 

“Jake,” you spoke so softly you were surprised he heard you. “Thank you.”

He fiddled with his hands, another little smile pulling at his lips. “It’s nothing.”

You shook your head, leaning a little to reach out to take his hand. He reacted straight away, moving towards your touch so that you didn’t have to disrupt your comfort. He sat lightly on the very edge of the mattress when you urged him to, taking your hand in his and running your thumb over his skin in a soothing pattern. 

Jake watched you, mesmerised. Your touch was for him, he wasn’t watching through Marc or Steven. It was his. 

“I’m honoured you know.” You said with a smile. “Letting me have some of your honey.” 

A small flush crept along his skin. For a moment he thought about lying, about saying that there was another jar. He swallowed and spoke quietly. “You’re more important than the honey.”

You didn’t know what to say, words wouldn’t form. 

Slowly, so carefully as if he was now the easily startled wild animal, you leant forward and wrapped your arms around him. You gave Jake plenty of time to move away, to back off. Instead he rushed towards it, quickly embracing you back and just melting into the hug. 

He tucked his head into your neck and breathed out a shaky breath. 

You could feel the tension in his arms, the strain running just under his skin as he fought the urge to hold you tighter, to press you closer to every inch of his body. 

You shifted backwards, laying down, and pulled him with you, urging him to follow. He clutched you tightly, and moved, shifting only slightly so that he was laying next to you and not on top of you. 

He let out the sweetest sigh of content as you coax him to lay his head on your chest and ran your fingers through his hair, still holding you tight. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @jake-g-lockley @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @welcometostayingawake @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @mbakubabe

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

[rmoonstoner]

Kinktober 2023

***

Theme:

3 - Doggy style

***

Warnings:

18+, angst/whump, break up, sex pollen (Miguel's venom), biting, smut, unprotected p in v sex, doggy style, rebound sex, cream pie, choking the reader sexually (light to medium), voyeurism, angry and jealous men, no strings attached sex with Miguel.

***

Pairing:

MidKnight (Moon Knight) Jake Lockley x Spider!Fem!Reader

(They don't have sex)

Spider-Man 2099 Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Fem!Reader

(They do have sex)

***

Summary:

Your boyfriend, Jake Lockley, is keeping major secrets from you. A major one, him having D.I.D. You can't take the lying by omission anymore, and decide to confront him, only to find one of his alters in your bed, having sex with a woman you've never met before. You lose your shit, break up with him, then leave, only to run into another Spider-Man.

***

Note:

Since I like my Galaxy-Spider OC/Reader from Poisoned Empanadas, this is a variant of her and a variant of Miguel. Bit of a backstory in the beginning, because I got really fucking high, and felt I needed a good angsty bit before the sex.

***

Miguel had been watching you for weeks, and the more he found out about you, the more he was intrigued. He found out you had a shitty boyfriend, and that he had been cheating you. He was certain the man had D.I.D. judging by the way he acted.

Miguel had watched him leave in a cab, and he would follow. He would see the man get out in a parkade, go inside a coffee shop, and come out in different clothing. Usually a baseball cap and casual clothes, versus the nice suits he was wearing before. Miguel would follow him around as he eventually made his way back to your house, only to come at it from the back alley and sneak in covertly.

Miguel was suspicious that he was leading some sort of dangerous and secret life, and his suspicions had been confirmed when he found Moon Knight leaving from the basement a few times at night. The man always left after you did in your uniform, and then he found the knight would follow you as you worked.

Even weirder still, he found that man's uniform and fighting style would rapidly change between three different styles. He desperately wanted to tell you about it, but the fact he looked so similar to the man had kept him from introducing himself to you, even with his uniform on. He knew he couldn't just show up in his civilian clothing, and he was scared you would hear his voice that was so close to Jake's, and mistake him for your boyfriend. He didn't want that, nor did he want you to even think for one second that he was another alter of your boyfriend.

Tonight, however, he watched your boyfriend bring home that same woman again, and he was floored to see him go straight to your bedroom. Miguel was ready to show up in uniform, pretend to be a friend of yours that was looking for you, and maybe kick the guy out, or call him out on his bullshit, but you arrived before he could get in there.

He was concerned for your safety, and he crawled up the wall to peer inside your room as you confronted Jake and the woman.

It didn't last long, and now you were storming out the front door and pulling your mask over your face, hood up, as you shot a web out and zipped away.

Miguel wanted to go in there and beat the guy up, but the lady was still there, just leaving. He noticed she was also in uniform, and she looked pissed as she yelled at the man. Miguel decided not to bother them. She didn't do anything to you or him. She didn't deserve that. Instead, he followed you.

It took an hour before you stopped swinging around so he could approach you. You came to rest on the roof of the Sanctum and cast a few lights around you. You were so upset, pacing and grumbling to yourself, that you didn't notice him touch down on the roof behind you.

"Hey, you're that Galaxy-Spider, yeah?" He asked carefully. You turned to stare at him as you rubbed at your eyes covered by the mask.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Uh… One of your kind. I'm Spider-Man. Uh, from the future."

"Riiight."

"No, really. See?" He raised his hand and showed you his watch.

"Lyla, can you please show her?" He asked and a small hologram of a woman in a big puffy white fur coat appeared. You blinked and stared at the tiny lady.

"Oh, Miguel, it's that girl, the one you liiike. The one ya wanna beat her boyfriend up for cheating on her!"

"God damnit Lyla. That's not what I meant!" Miguel grumbled and rubbed his temple.

"Wait… You like me, and know about Jake?" You asked as you watched him bring his hands up to his face and rub his temples.

"Fuck it. Yeah. I do. I know him. I know he's a dick, a jerk, and a lying prick."

"So you've been stalking me, then?"

You squinted at him.

"Yes, wait, no!"

"Explain yourself, or I'll scream, and I'm standing right over top of Doctor Strange's bedroom." You said firmly. Miguel panicked and put his hands together.

"Wait, wait, wait. Okay, so I came here, and have been watching all the other spiders. I saw you once, then I couldn't help but follow you home. I was hoping you would be single, but then I found out you had a boyfriend. Then I found that boyfriend is Moon Knight, and he's been sneaking around, following you at night and also sleeping around with that lady that was there tonight." He quickly explained, then showed you some of the surveillance footage he had caught of Moon Knight.

"I was kind of obsessed with the man, because he has my face, and if he's doing bad shit out there, I don't want to be associated with him, right?" He said, desperately hoping you would believe him. He was starting to creep you out, and you didn't like it one bit. He sounded too much like Jake.

"So you were stalking Moon Knight, because you like him?"

"Fuck, no, It's not like that. I said I look like him. Not exactly, but close enough." He said as he slowly removed his mask and showed you his face. Your eyes went wide and before you could speak, he kept going.

"I can't be him. I'm from a different universe, from the year 2099. I don't have Moon powers, I have Spider powers. Oh, and see? Look at my arm. No tattoos. I'm also taller, bigger, and have higher cheekbones. My name is Miguel O'Hara." Miguel was quick to show you his arms, and you frowned.

Everything made perfect sense. Jake didn't wear a watch like that, and he certainly was shorter and smaller than Miguel. Plus the holographic video and tiny lady sure helped to back up his story. You sighed and shrugged.

"Okay. I believe you."

"Thank god. I was worried about you. You're a Spider. I'm a Spider. We are supposed to look out for each other. He's shady as fuck, and the fact he had the balls to bring a girl into your room and bang her, says a lot about him. He's a literal lunatic." He went on as his uniform formed back over his arms.

"That's not nice. He wasn't Jake at the time. " You said. Miguel scoffed and stared at you.

"That doesn't make it any better and I don't have to be nice. The guy is an idiot, and not because he has D.I.D. He's an idiot for keeping that from you. That's why I told you right away what I am doing and who I am."

"Yeah… I did know about the condition. I had my suspicions. What I did not know, was that he was Moon Knight. Thank you for being honest I guess?"

"Well now you do!" He looked triumphant and quite happy, while just shrugged and sighed.

"I don't care."

"You what?"

"I said, I don't care. Thank you for letting me know. I dumped him and told him I am moving out."

"So you came here?" He motioned to the old building you were standing on.

"Doctor Strange said I am welcome anytime. He knew this was coming, because we have talked about Jake's behavior before."

"Don't you think showing up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday is going to agitate the wizard enough to go looking for a fight?"

"Strange wouldn't dare, unless I asked. The others might go kick his ass, though."

"See?"

"Why are you suddenly defending him?" You gave him a suspicious look. He put his hands up in the air.

"I'm not. I just understand there's an innocent man mixed in with the other two dicks in that body. Knowing their luck, he'd be the one to front and get his ass beat."

"That's true. I don't think that's how Steven would be able to handle that."

"Probably not. How about we go for a stroll? Clear that head of yours, hm?"

"Sure I guess."

***

That stroll turned into a heated make out session just a block away from the Sanctum. You had been so angry, that when Miguel suggested you two spar so you could blow off some steam, you immediately countered with an offer of sex with no strings attached. Now you had him pinned against the back of a billboard, your mask gone and your mouth and tongue tangled with his.

You didn't question how his mask melted away like pixels on a computer. The second his mouth was free, you kissed him hard and crawled up the billboard to cage him in. He didn't mind, and he encouraged you as his big hands came to hold your ass and neck.

"Fuck, you're a naughty little Spider…" Miguel husked as you ground yourself against him while making little pleased grunts and moans.

"Shut up and kiss me ya big lug."

"Gladly." Miguel pulled you in and kissed you again. He wanted this for a while now, and honestly thought it would have taken days, if not weeks to get into your pants. When you suggested angry no strings attached sex, he was all for it.

When you pulled away again, he pulled you off of him and spun you around so you faced the back of the billboard. He reached down, trying to find a way to open your suit, when you pointed at your thighs to a zipper there.

"Let me." You did and unzipped the seam. He growled when the tight fabric immediately shrank back and revealed your naked ass and cunt to him. He couldn't stop himself as he pulled his cock out and shoved it into your wet hole right away. He grunted as he pushed in all the way and pressed you against the billboard.

"Mierda! So fuckin' tight." He snarled and started to fuck into you hard and fast. You pushed back against him and whimpered while clawing at the wood of the billboard. He saw a sudden flash of white up above them, and he grinned as he grabbed your hair and tugged you back to kiss your neck

He could hear shuffling above him, followed by angry swearing in Spanish as he fucked into you harder. You felt him bite your neck, his fangs sinking in and pumping you full of venom. You moaned loudly and shook as he fucked you even harder. Your blood suddenly felt hot, and you panted as Miguel found your clit and rubbed it in time with his thrusts. He turned you towards the building, and pushed your head down to the ground as he pushed in as deep as he could go.

"Ahhh, mmm…" Your eyes rolled back, mouth open as you felt an orgasm hit you. You drooled and clawed at the wooden plank you were on as Miguel snarled loudly. And slapped you ass hard.

"I am gonna dick you down so good, you won't be walking when I'm done with you."

He groaned and gave you a few hard beats, before he slipped a hand around your neck and pulled you back up and flush against his chest again. He was making damn sure Jake could see him and the way your face contorted in ecstasy.

Miguel brought his other hand around your front, shooting a web at the billboard as he leaned back so you were sitting in his lap while he bucked up into you harshly. You bounced and gasped for air as his hand tightened around your neck, making it harder to breathe. You whined, choking a bit, and he let go, only to bring his hand to your breast and hold you tightly as he pistoned his cock in and out of your abused hole. He was enjoying your grunts and moans, more now that Jake was standing above and watching with a scowl.

"Miguel, fuck… Yes, oh, fuck-!" You gasped as he pushed in all the way and rotated his hips for a bit while you mumbled gibberish and shook with another orgasm. Your thighs were soaked, and Miguel still hadn't come yet.

"You feel so good… I just wanna pump you full with my come." He groaned and gave you a slow and deep thrust. You whimpered and grabbed onto his leg, digging your nails into his thigh in an attempt to keep him there.

"Don't fucking stop…"

You sobbed as he withdrew and pushed back in just as slow.

"Don't stop, eh?"

"Please! H-harder, faster, Miguel!"

"You want hard and fast? I'll give you hard and fast, mi sol."

He groaned and pushed you back down to your knees, his hips drilling as hard and as fast as he could go. You had a hard time holding yourself up, finding he was way stronger than you were. You slowly got pushed to the ground, head now against the cold wood, cheek smooshed while you panted and drooled.

"Yeah, yeah, ugnnn, fuck!" You mumbled as he leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"Ya feel that? I'm about ready to pop. Shall I fill this sweet little pussy of yours?" He said in a deeply husky voice as he kept pounding you mercilessly.

"Oh, Gods, yes!" You managed a small squeak as you squeezed his thigh.

"Good, because you're gonna take every last drop of me, and then I'm taking you to my pad, so I can fuck you again in the morning."

He growled as he bit into your neck again. You let out a deep carnal moan and came again, your pussy clamping tightly around his cock. He groaned and shot a nice thick load inside of you, and you whimpered and squirmed while he just kept coming and digging himself in deeper.

"So good… Fuck that guy. Stay with me and rest, then I'll take you back to your wizard's house, tomorrow." He whispered as he rolled over with you and held you tightly against his chest, his hard cock still buried to the root.

"O-okay…" You worked in catching your breath, your pussy still clenching periodically around his dick.

"Good." Miguel grinned and he looked up at the roof tops. He saw a white silhouette, with a dark face and scowling white eyes staring down at him. Miguel smirked back and gave him the finger as he hoisted you up into his arms, his suit melting back over his body. You were blissfully unaware your ex had witnessed everything, and was now helplessly watching you being carted away by his doppelganger.

***

Tags:

I thought I would tag all my Poisoned Empanadas readers.

@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan @missdragon-1 @marvelescvpe @lunar-ghoulie @cicithemess2000 @animesnowstorm @mahbeanz @dafuqelaine @bby-lupin @paranoiac-666 @konniebon @cl0v3r-s0up @seraphine-so-pretty @jupitersmoon167 @butterflypillows @ivystoryweaver @mintellaine @bxdbxtxh15 @badbishsblog @cleothegoldfish @xxmadamjinxx @bitchyexpertprincess @sakurayuki8655-blog @jklkverr @jkthinkstoomuch @oscarissac2099 @neteyamsluvts @bad4amficideas @einno-arko

[guruan-is-not-here]

Deep

The Love Marks series Part 5 Sketch 3

Uncropped:

Gray skin chosen by a poll a while ago

I liked the cake grabbing so much I did two of these... 🙈🙊 Last sketch soon ❤❤

What boy you guess is this one?

My masterlist | Series masterlist

Part 5: Sketch 1 | Sketch 2 | Sketch 4

Prev Part | Part 1

[peterman-spideyparker]

Brief-ish, unsolicited thoughts about the Moon Boys

Not proofread, written on my phone on the fly, posted on the app so if it looks wonky that’s why

Let’s start with our sweet sweet Steven.

He’s such a sweet and doting boyfriend.

Kisses morning, noon, and night.

Steven loves to cook for you. Every dish is exquisite and full of flavor, and packed with love.

At least once a week, you visit him at the museum for lunch. On nice days, you eat lunch on the museum steps. When there’s gloomy London weather, he’ll sneak you into a closed exhibit or the storage room to enjoy some private time.

One thing he loves the most is when you’re at home and you both sit on the couch and read. His hand is always laced with yours, kissing your knuckles and cuddling in close.

In terms of sexy time, I think Steven’s favorite position might be doggy style. Don’t get me wrong, he does enjoy missionary. But doggy style allows him to have a certain kind of control that he lacks at work—and that he sometimes feels that he lacks within the system. He always feels like he has a say in his relationship with you, but doggy style . . . doggy style is control for him. You’re at his mercy on all fours, and how fast you get your pleasure is solely due to his actions.

Sometimes, he’ll mix it up by holding your arms behind your back while he keeps you upright, and other times he’ll push you down so your face is in the pillows and your ass is in the air, acting as his only real focal point.

He’s also been known for a swift spank here and there, but he can’t help it. He really loves your butt.

After, there’s a lot of snuggles. Either big spoon/little spoon where you’re the little spoon and he’s pressing kisses all over your shoulder and neck and wherever else he can reach without moving too much, or if it’s face to face with foreheads resting together, limbs tangled, and the whispering of sweet nothings mixed with kisses, he’s a gentleman through and through when it comes to taking care of you.

And now Marc. This poor man needs all the snuggles.

He didn’t want to date you. Like at all. He would try his best to keep you away, but he always found himself drawn to you.

One day, he bit the bullet and asked you out for some coffee. It’s coffee—what’s the worst that could happen. Famous last words.

By the time you drank half of your drink, he was smitten, and by the end of your respective cups, he knew he was in love.

He waited nearly a week after that date until he texted you.

“She’s not gonna respond, Spector,” he grumbles ten seconds after clicking send, rubbing his hands down his face.

You respond an hour later, and Marc is mortified to look at his phone, but feels like he can breathe again when he reads your message.

“Sorry, I was giving a presentation at work! Dinner sounds great. How about Thursday?”

He’s truly flabbergasted. You said yes.

The night of the date, he gets to the restaurant early, twiddling his thumbs and wringing his hands as he stands across the street, watching if you actually come. Panic washes over him when he sees you get to the restaurant, getting a table for two in the patio area. He knows the second that he crosses the street and sits across from you, he’s done. He’d be yours forever.

Time moves fast while he works up the nerve to cross the street, and he jumps out of his skin when he feels his phone vibrate.

“Hey,” he breathes shakily.

“Hey,” you mimic. “You know, I can see you standing across the street. I have this whole time. Marc, if you didn’t want to—.”

“That’s not it,” he interrupts. He can’t let you think like that. “I’m just . . . It sounds ridiculous.” He lets out a deep breath. “I’m nervous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” you reassure him softly as you turn and look at him in the eyes from across the street. “But I can tell you from many years of experience of being nervous and anxious—the best way to stop being nervous is to just do the thing freaking you out. It has to happen eventually, and if you keep building it up in your head, it’ll only get worse.”

He lets out a shallow breath, hanging up and jogging across the street to you.

When it comes to sex, I feel Marc has two positions he really prefers—missionary, and lotus.

Marc is a man that like control, but he also takes great comfort in predictability, which is what these positions offer for him: they both allow him to be as close as possible to you, he can change little motions in his hips to make it rougher or gentler for you, he can go deep, and most importantly, he can see your face. He can see every last iota of pleasure on your features, he can kiss you over and over, and you ground him, reminding him you’re here with him and that everything is okay.

He always marks up your neck one way or another. Sometimes it’s lingering wet kisses, other times it’s red marks that fade, and more often than not, little purple hickies on the column of your neck that remain for long after the sex has stopped.

You’ve come to find that Marc likes a little pain while you’re being intimate. Not much, but a scratch of your nails through his hair, on his back, or on his arms turns him into putty in your hands.

Cuddles are mandatory aftercare for Marc. You keep him present and remind him that even if he’s feeling low, you’re there for him.

More often than not, it’s face to face cuddles, his head resting on your chest so he can listen to your heart while you play with his curls.

And just like with aftercare cuddles, Marc will always wake up early the next day to make you breakfast in bed. It’s nothing grand—truly, sometimes it’s toaster waffles and a cup of coffee—but you absolutely love it.

Now to Jake.

He’s attracted to you as soon as he meets you, but he chose to stay deep within the headspace until he knew you weren’t gonna leave or hurt Marc or Steven.

He doesn’t stick around for more than fifteen minutes when he does eventually come out, but you’re warm and kind to him.

“You must be Jake,” you hum with a soft smile. “I’m happy to finally meet you.”

Jake just nods, leaning back and drinking his spiked coffee and watching you go about your morning as you read the paper.

One day, Jake is fronting when he comes home after a rough mission. He sees you on the couch, looking lonely and less vibrant and, well, looking less you than you usually do.

He takes off his jacket and hat, putting it on the stand by the door. Jake moves over to where you are on the couch, sitting down next to you, and carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to rest on him.

You both don’t know what to do at first, both stiff and nervous, but when you shimmy down on the couch to get comfortable on him, he breathes a sigh of relief. Jake tilts his head and rests his cheek on the top of your head.

The romance between you two is slow, but it’s strong. And once the fuse is lit, there’s no stopping it.

The first time Jake kisses you, he’s nervous, but as soon as his lips meet yours, he knows with every ounce of his body that you’re the only person outside of the system that he could ever love.

The kiss turns into a make out session, and that make out session results in both of your clothes being shed all over the apartment and you trapped between his body and the mattress.

You two spin around in a litany of positions, but Jake loves it when you’re on top, hands on his chest, riding him like an award-winning equestrian front and back.

His hands grip your hips not to guide you or control you, but as a firm, silent encouragement for your actions.

Jake praises you in Spanish all through your lovemaking, calling you every pet name in the book: “corazón”, “hermosa”, “amore”, and so many others. His fluency and the lit of his pitch goes right to your core, only making the sex more incredible.

After both of you are spent, Jake kisses your cheek and neck, moving to the bathroom to get a cool damp cloth to cool down your burning skin and cleaning you up between your legs.

Jake tosses the towel into the nearby bathroom, somehow getting it to rest and hang over the side of the tub.

He rests on his side as he watches you lie on your back, looking up at him and lacing your fingers together and talking about anything that comes to mind before you fall asleep in his arms.

[soft-girl-musings]

Perks of Being a Wallflower

Jake Lockley x plus size fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for thirsty jake, author does not dance but saw it on the tv once (i'm mostly kidding), mustachioed jake jumpscare (tagging for the haters), no use of Y/N

wc: 1.9k

fic summary: For Jake, a night on the town means sticking to the background, listening for signs of trouble. That all changes when he sees you at the dance hall.

A/N: still on the jake train and I am making it everyone's problem. just wanted to preface by saying, as a curvy girlie, i recognize that plus size folk are not a monolith. so everything in this fic is based on my own experience, etc. enjoy!

----------

Jake likes to keep his intel hotspots in rotation. 

Mondays and Wednesdays he'll head to the diner after a day in the cab, refueling and checking in with his network.

Tuesdays and Thursdays he'll hit the bars. Weekends are mostly for driving.

But Fridays? Fridays are for dancing.

Jake's guilty pleasure is scoping out the dance hall. The clubs have their appeal, but there's something timeless about the hole in the wall he’d discovered a while back. Nothing special, just a cozy ballroom with a bar, tables lifted on a platform framing ¾ of the room and turning the dance floor into an inverse stage.

Tonight he nurses a beer in the corner, listening to a couple of seedy characters describe some suspicious activity at a warehouse he'd been tailing. But he hasn't caught much of their conversation. Truth be told, he's a bit distracted tonight.

Because of you.

He'd seen you come in with four other people, two couples by the look of it. He'd been immediately taken by you: while some patrons came to dance in jeans and t-shirts, you'd dressed to impress. He'd shamelessly raked his eyes over your form, generous curves hugged by the bodice of your dress that trailed down over your ample hips. You walked with a timid sway, the movement inevitable even as you drew your arms about yourself, settling into your seat with care at a table clear across the room from him.

As much as he's tried to fight it, his attention always drifts back to you: poised and pretty, eyes scanning the room as one couple, then another leaves you for the Latin-dance-of-the-week group lesson hosted like clockwork every Friday. The instructor drones on, but Jake is zeroed in on you: all softness and warmth, criminally tucked away from the rest of the fun.

The warehouse can wait.

__________

You don’t consider yourself the kind of girl someone crosses the room for.

That’s probably why you don’t notice the determined stranger making his way across the crowded dance floor, eyes trained on you as he adjusts his cap with a smirk.

You’re taking another sip of your overpriced cocktail when you hear an unfamiliar voice below you.

“Not a fan of the rumba?”

You finally register the man standing by the corner of your table. He’s handsome, you have to admit, his dark features highlighting kind brown eyes, creased from his almost too-eager smile. When you realize he’s talking to you, your words are still slow to come out.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s the mustache, isn’t it?” He grins sheepishly, dragging a palm across his lower face. “Knew it’d skeeve some people out, but I thought I’d give it a go.”

“No,” you say too quickly for your own liking, “It’s, ah– nice. Suits you.”

You’re met with a cheeky grin as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded as he leans in. “I’m Jake. Nice to meet a friendly face.”

You eye him warily, wondering what his angle could be. A quick glance around the room confirms there’s only so many unattached women surrounding the dance floor. You sigh internally. The game is always the same: keep them entertained until the girls they really want to talk to come back from the bar, or the bathroom, or stray just far enough from the guys they arrived with.

Might as well play along. 

Settling back into your seat, you tell him your name. His grin widens as he echoes it with something bordering reverence, and you bite your cheek to keep from smiling too wide.

Jake props one elbow on the table, looking up at you. Seems like he’s not going anywhere for a while.

“I gotta know– you not a fan of the rumba?”  He asks again, staring up at you dreamily. You don't catch it, your eyes flitting between him and the dance floor. The lesson is over, and couples spread out to dance independently.

“Hm? Oh, um– it’s alright,” you say with a shrug, arms wrapping around your middle again. “Just not a dancing night for me.” 

Truth be told, it’s been ages since anyone’s invited you to dance. You’ve contented yourself with watching, although something deep inside aches for someone to ask you to–

"Dance with me."

You raise an eyebrow, struck by his bluntness. "I'm sorry?"

He leans in, both arms now resting on the table. "Dance with me, doll." His grin widens as he drinks you in. Your cheeks heat under his gaze, and you almost believe the admiration behind his eyes.

You press your lips together and look back to the crowd. "No thanks."

"I promise I don't bite," he teases, baring his teeth for effect. The slight gap in his smile catches your eye and you look away again. He's definitely a charmer.

"I…" you trail off, searching for an excuse but find you're hesitant to give it. 

Your self-sabotaging streak wins out. "Sorry, I have to keep the table for my friends." You nod toward the couples you came with, each person settled in the arms of their partner as they stumble through the rumba on their own. Your frown deepens; it does look fun.

Jake hums and props his head on one hand. "Don't tell me you only tagged along to watch their purses? Not the best of friends," he adds, critique mixed with sympathy.

You almost tell him that this wasn't the plan, you were meant to have a date tonight. A date who suddenly couldn't make it once your friend had caved and sent him a picture of you– a snapshot you'd both hoped wouldn't "fatfish" but was flattering enough to entice him to commit. Clearly he didn't.

You consider telling him everything, so lost in thought you don't realize he's been saying your name. He calls you once more, and you snap back to the present, tearing your eyes away from the dance floor.

"Sorry, what was that?"

As you speak, Jake walks around the table until he's closer to your side. He holds out his hand.

"C'mon, one dance." He asks again, angling his head to catch your eye. "Please?"

The last of your resolve absolutely crumbles at the way his voice softens with every word. As if you have something he wants. As if you could reject him and make it sting. 

Oh, what the hell.

"...Alright. One dance." 

You didn't think he could smile any wider, but he does– tossing his cap onto the table and trailing a hand through his thick black curls, he's all crow's feet and smile lines as you accept his hand.

Jake weaves between dancing pairs with you in tow, until you reach the middle of the floor. Your eyes dart around at the couples surrounding you, but a gentle touch under your chin brings your attention back to him.

"Just focus on me, yeah?" His voice is still soft, keeping you grounded in the eye of the busy dance floor. You nod, letting out a shaky breath.

"Right, so–" Jake clasps your right hand and raises it to chin level. He moves your left hand to cradle his shoulder, and places his right hand on your shoulder blade. It takes everything in him not to squeeze the flesh under his palm; you're just as warm and soft as he'd thought you'd be.

He talks you through the basics, how to time your steps and the flow of each movement. Every so often, he’ll lift your chin again, since you keep looking at your feet to keep up.

You catch on quicker than you’d expected. Even though your cheeks are blazing, you feel yourself loosen up– your body relaxing, your hips swaying a bit more freely. 

Jake can tell: he’s never short of praise and encouragement, and has to remember his own advice to stop himself from watching your hips the whole time.

"Alright," he warns, "here's something a little tricky-"

As soon as you feel his hand flex, you know what to do. You step out and deftly spin under his arm, hips swaying with a cheeky flourish for effect.

Jake barks a laugh of surprise, arms settling back into place as you complete the step.

You let yourself crack a smile. “You third wheel enough of these dance lessons, you’re bound to pick some things up.”

“No kidding,” he affirms, resuming an easy rhythm for you both. You’d think he was born with that grin on his face, the way it hasn’t faltered since he introduced himself.

One song bleeds into another, but neither of you notice. Instead, you draw closer together, your frame more relaxed and your heart racing. With every beat, you fight back the budding intoxication of the moment. Because this can't be real; this can't be something that lasts. No matter how many praises he showers, winks he offers, or lingering brushes against your hips, shoulders, seemingly anywhere he can touch you, you know you won't be hearing from Jake once you leave this dance floor. That's how this always goes down.

The song ends and you both slow to a stop. Slightly breathless, your hands trail up to Jake’s shoulders, thumbs tracing the fabric there as you work up the courage to ask one last question.

"So… is this the part where you go back to your friends and tally up who got the big girl to believe you were interested?"

Jake's brows knit together, his hands pressed to your shoulder blades to hold you steady. "I don't-"

"Oh please, you don't have to pretend. I survived high school, I can take it." You smirk, worrying your lip to keep your disappointment at bay. This was a nice fantasy, but you know how this ends.

The band starts to play a slower tune, and his eyes meet yours. In a flash of flexed arms and footwork, you’re suddenly looking up at him, body tilted back as he dips you. A cheeky grin is plastered on his flushed features.

"Doll, you misunderstand." He draws you back up, bringing you cheek to cheek as the stubble of his warm face scratches your skin. He continues, voice low and close to your ear:

"We're dancin' because it'd be criminal to leave such a pretty wallflower unplucked all night." He starts to sway in time to the music, still holding you. An invitation to stay, to do this all again.

You lean back; his rapt attention is trained on you like before, the warmth in his brown eyes seeping into your cheeks. Your face blossoms into the widest smile, your soft angles catching the light and making you look downright radiant. 

"That's… so corny." And you laugh, a rich, uninhibited sound pouring from your lips until tears nearly spill down your cheeks. 

Jake takes it all in– the vision that you are. His hand trails down to the softness at the small of your back. The way you quake from laughter sends a thrill up his spine, and he chuckles in turn. If he wasn’t holding you, he swears he’d be a little weak in the knees.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder as you calm down. “What’s one more dance?” You breathe, letting yourself move in time with the music.

Jake bites his lip and nods, taking your hand again. “Thought you’d never ask, doll.”

With a flick of the wrist he spins you out, eliciting another laugh from you as he pulls you back in.

The warehouse can definitely wait: his night's going to be spent drawing that sweet sound from your lips as long as you'll let him.

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A/N: when I say "brainrot," i mean i couldn't sleep until i set this gd thing to publish (don't ask me what time)

huge shoutout to @hon3yboy @chrissymodi-frost and @mrsnadeem for letting me ramble in your DMs about dancer!Jake, all my love my darlings <3

addtl tag list: @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi

tysm for reading!