#jarvis cocker x reader

[samiwife]

Dressing Nice 𓆩♡𓆪 (Jarvis Cocker x Reader)

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

𓆩⟡𓆪 = Headcanons

A/N: Hey, just wanted more Jarvis stories because I love him <3

Late-night parties were such a bore, that I wanted to stay home and listen to my records. But no, my friends had to drag me along. "C'mon, it will be fun!" They said. "You need to get out more." They said. Their constant nagging made me annoyed and nauseous. But I agreed anyway. I quickly got dressed not really thinking about my appearance. I wore a short black dress with medium-length heels. I clipped my hair back with a silver hair claw I had. I put on light mascara and liner. I walked down to my friend's car and sat in the back as my other friends piled in the car raving about the party tonight. "It is going to be so fun tonight! Y/N maybe you'll meet a guy there!" One of my friends said turning her head to the backseat.

I look up and smirk ingenuity. "Haha very funny, but I'll just grab a drink and watch the other couples make out," I said sarcastically. My friends laughed at my comment. They continued to drive as I sat in my back strolling on my phone. I was only on my phone for 5 minutes till I heard my friends tell me that we were there. I looked up and got out of the car. All my friends rushed in and I just casually walked in. It was more casual than I expected. There was mellow music playing and everything seemed so quiet. I looked at the tables inside, tall tables with thin glasses filled with if I could tell champagne. I grabbed a glass and began drinking. It was down quick since the glasses were tiny.

I looked around the room and as I expected people were sucking each other's faces. I stood around being bored with myself and just went on my phone. The party got increasingly louder and louder, and more people came in. Now it wasn't so quiet anymore. The party was getting crowded, people were dancing and pushing each other. I didn't care, I just drank and continued being bored. Until I felt pressure fall on my chest. I look up from my phone. It was a tall man with brown hair and dressed nicely in a blazer and white button-up.

He was handsome but his heaviness was being squashed up against me. "Oh sorry love, I didn't see you there." He said in a deep voice. My cheek flushed red from embarrassment. "U-um yeah, it's alright," I told studdering like an idiot. He smiled since he knew I was nervous. "What's your name love?" He said as he stood closer. "Y/N, what's yours if I don't mind asking," I ask fluttering my eyes at him. "Jarvis." He answered as he stood closer to me. His lips were soft and he smelt of fruit and flowers. Jarvis was so close I could kiss him. "You need something love?" Jarvis said smirking. I chuckled. "Yeah, I need to go to the lavatory. Could you come with me?" I said holding on Jarvis's hand tightly. Jarvis's face turns red and his smirk grows wider. I drag him upstairs to the bathroom. We quickly close the door and lock it.

Jarvis was tall and slender. He smelt sweet. His lips were soft. I couldn't resist myself. I quickly pressed my lips against Jarvis's. Hooking up with a total stranger was a rush that I never felt before. Jarvis didn't know me and I didn't know him but our connection sparked at that moment. Jarvis's hands slid down my sides. I quickly got down on my knees and unbuckled his tight belt. Jarvis smirks and looks down at me. His member was massive. I gawked at the size and began twirling my tongue around his tip. Jarvis whimpers and quickly covers his mouth with his hand. I began to bob my head, and Jarvis began to shake from the vibration. Jarvis's head tilts back against the door and he begins to whimper quietly. I speed up the pace, Jarvis grabs my hair roughly as he continues to whimper. Until a knock echos through the bathroom.

Jarvis tilts his head back. I let my lips off of Jarvis but I still have my hands wrapped around Jarvis's member. Jarvis trying his hardest not to moan a response quickly yells out that the bathroom is busy. But to no avail, the figure outside the door still continues to knock. Jarvis rolling his eyes, slightly cracks open the door so I don't be seen. "S-sorry, but I'm using this bathroom. T-there's one upstairs that's v-vacant." Jarvis said studdering since I slightly moved my hands up and down Jarvis's member. The figure nods and Jarvis quickly closes the door and locks it again.

I smiled widely and licked his tip again. "Love, your lips are amazing, you make me quiver," Jarvis said smiling down at me. I jerk Jarvis off as he tilts his head back again. "Fuck Y/N, you're going to make me come," Jarvis said as I pumped harder. "Come for me, Jarvis," I said smirking widely. Jarvis swung his mouth open as he exhaled sharply. Warm sticky come drips from his member as I still continued to pump. Jarvis huffed heavily as I stood up and kissed his soft lips. Jarvis pulled me in closer, I could sense his hunger for my lips. I pushed Jarvis further against the door. Jarvis pulled away. "Y/N, you are a mystery that I want to solve," Jarvis said as he stared. I chuckled. "Well explore as you must Jarvis," I said as I began kissing Jarvis's lips again.

[chouxsardine]

Coming back to me---Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: You miss him terribly, you wish he were here. Unexpectedly, there he is---Jake walking on you masturbating and you spill some more.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 4082

Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, female masturbation, unprotected penetrative p in v sex, explicit use of derogatory terms, sexual fantasy, allusion of exhibitionism, implict soft dom!Jake, guitar worship(??) (you can already tell it's a lot and I'm going to hell for this...let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: smut, slight angst with agonizingly sweet fluff, slight hurt/comfort, agonizingly romantic Jake

Author's note: This is my second try on writing smut. I tried to be a lot bolder this time. I want this to be sweet and spicy and damn it is enjoyable and torturing for me to write. What an experience. I intend to dig further into this, so let's consider this as Part 1 of improper guitar use fantasy (more on it's way) I really really hope you enjoy this. If you want a visual for the short film mentioned, （which is also 18+!! you don't need it to enjoy the story but it's a very interesting piece) here's the link to that scene: Amante Menguante (or watch its full version in Talk to Her (2002), 1:1:01-1:1:06); That's all--Dig in :))

🎧: Baby’s Coming Back to Me by Jarvis Cocker; Homesick by Sleeping At Last

-----------------------------------

It wasn’t the film that turns you on; it’s him—it’s always him. The film only provides you with the idea.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you are mostly certain that you are going to spend the weekend alone again. Jake is out of town for a photoshoot and an interview for some magazine afterward. The time is too tight for a roundtrip back home. You clicked on a random movie to put on as background noise. It’s Talk to Her, which you have seen a long time ago and only have a vague memory of. You do remember there’s a nice song in it.

What you didn’t remember is the mise en abyme in its latter half, and you also certainly didn’t expect you to start touching yourself during it. The black and white silent film is titled Amante Mengunte, translated as The Shrinking Lover—the hero, Alfredo, drank a potion invented by his scientist girlfriend, which caused him shrinking to the size of a thumb. He is small enough to wander around on his girlfriend’s body while she is asleep. One day, he goes for a walk on her breasts, gives her a sweet orgasm in her dreams by climbing inside her vagina, and becomes part of her forever.

You catch your hand midway as it inches towards your mound. You felt embarrassed at first, getting all hot and bothered from just seeing almost any sex scenes like some horny teenager, but you know there’s something more to it. The gush of desperate longing wells in the pit of your stomach. You miss Jake so much that the idea of keeping him in you so that you never have to be apart seems enticing. The thought scares and arouses you at the same time. You press your knees together, the familiar swelling in between your legs throbs and spreads. You know exactly what you need.

Being led by your desire, you scamper downstairs to Jake’s studio—the place that feel most like him in the whole house. Simply putting your hand on the door handle sends a buzzing current through your body. The whole action has an excitement of forbidden secrecy. It is not that you are not allowed here, quite the opposite—Jake loves having you in his studio, calling you his muse, asking you just to be there doing random stuff like going through his vinyls or reading while he strums the guitar, like you are some model posing for his artwork. However, being here alone without him makes you feel like an intruder.

Upon pushing open the door, the musky, masculine scent whirls towards you. Given the time that Jake has spent down here, the room still smells awfully like him even after the many days that he was gone. The dampness of the basement reminds you of Jake’s hair freshly washed after a shower. The fresh bergamot cushions the hidden spiciness of black pepper that tingles the upper palate of your mouth like a sensual tongue during a teasing kiss. You inhale greedily before closing the door behind you, not wanting the smell to dissipate.

You turn on your laptop and connect it to the projector in the back corner of the room. With trembling fingers you plug in a silver flash drive and click on the folder labeled with a guitar emoji.

This is probably one of your biggest secrets. You have been collecting clips of Jake’s performance that are circling on social media, some shot by professionals and some by fans. (You prefer the ones by fans though; they always have the best angles and manage to capture the hottest moments. After all, you are just one of them before you start dating Jake.) And you have been editing the videos together, making a personal documentary of Jake’s performance. So far, the length of the film has reached 17 minutes, and you still have more clips patiently lying in the footage library.

You waste no more time clicking the play button. As the bright light shines through the small transparent lens on the projector, the video comes to life on the wall in front of you. You drop down to your knees.

It starts with the clip of Norwegian Wood. You like to ease yourself into it, despite already being slithery between your fold. Watching Jake play the acoustic guitar tenderizes and relaxes you. Each note, crisp and mellifluous, drips from the strings; the misty and ethereal background sound resonates in the stadium, adding to the ambience. As if the descent of a deity, Jake walks into the light as the cheering and applauding grows louder. You let out a soft sigh. Although much sweeter and mellower than its electric counterpart, the acoustic guitar dallies with your nerves. Thanks to the inadvertent little things that let Jake’s domination shine through—the way he moves the cable out of his way with a single flick of his wrist, the way his hand moves away from the strings to quickly rub the sweat off on his pants and adjust the waistline, the way he sticks out one foot to tap the pedal—every single move is a stimuli that rouses a response from your body, reminding you of how he slaps the outside of your thigh when you are squirming a bit too much under his tongue, how he spreads your release on your lower belly when he pulls out his fingers, how he nudges your knees apart and the cool air makes your clit quiver…

The music changes, and you’ve watched the video enough times to know that the next clip is the solo to The Weight of Dreams. You chose that particular video because of how unrelenting it is. For almost seven minutes, the ruthless grip of the music washes your mind empty. You stroke your hood up and down, feeling the flesh pushing down on your clit. You try, albeit futilely, to match your speed with the beat of the music. You lift up your head and gawk at Jake’s fingers tapping and plucking the strings, the muscles of his forearm flexing and the veins pulsing. The rhythm he wrings out of the instrument drips down your throat, gliding through your fold. You scuffs closer to the wall. You miss his fingers, the callouses; the ridge that separates the hardened skin from the soft slightly scrapes your walls and occasionally grazes your clit. In slight frustration, you slam one hand against the wall for leverage, leaning forward for more friction.

The overwhelming desire, plus the whining of the guitar, must have muffled your other senses. You are completely oblivious when the door opens behind you.

Jake throws the car in the driveway and almost trips as he kicks his shoes off at the doorway. A delightful change of plans allows him to come back home for the weekend. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your face lights up when he surprises you. To his dismay, the house is eerily quiet. Your coat and bag are both hanging by the door. He walks into the living room—the film is still playing on TV, now with the credit rolling; you blanket is bunched up into a messy pile, obviously being yanked aside; the bedroom and the washroom doors are wide open, showing no signs of you. He was about to pull out his phone when he hears the muffled melody coming from downstairs.

He could never mistake the sound of his own riff. The thought of you listening to his music when he’s away strokes his ego in the best way. He smiles to himself as he pushes open the door. The sight in front of him makes him gulp. Blood rushes to the lower half of his body.

The projector’s bright light and the video on the wall are the only light sources in the room. He could only see the right side of your face from where he is standing. But that is enough to make his dick harden. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly agape, with your jaw slack. Your hand is buried in your underwear, the bulge created by your fingers trembling with the circular movements. The blue light illuminates your face, softens your features, and bathes you in a holy glow. With your chin tilted up and your knees pressed, it looks as if you are kneeling in front of an altar, waiting to receive some religious blessing. And there it is, the image of him in front of you, playing on stage, shredding the guitar.

Making as little noise as possible, he closes the door and makes a bee line to your laptop. He presses on the volume button until the sound is completely muted. Sensing the change, you open your eyes and almost jump out of your skin at the sight of Jake standing behind you.

“Jake, I—” Before your hand spring out of your panties, you feel a warm and firm weight on your shoulder, holding you right in place.

“Keep going.”

His hand stays there for two more heartbeats, silently restating the command, as if he knows you intend to get up. You have half a heart to protest, but you quickly yield. Seeing him shatters your judgement and your sense of shame. Rarely do dreams come true, and when they do, it’s stupid to shut the door in its face. Your fingers dig deeper, picking up the speed.

“Eyes on me, love.”

The nickname muttered in his raspy voice has your head shoot up. You watch as he walks to his guitar stand, picks up his Gibson, and plugs it into the amp.

“I say there’s no need for a mirage now that yours truly is right here,” he turns off the projector and flicks on the backlit panel lights. The room is now shrouded in a puny indigo glow. “Am I right, my dear?”

You swallow thickly. Usually, this is when Jake expects an audible answer from you. But he is particularly lenient towards your reticence today.

“Now, where did we left off?” he speaks in a low mumble. He glances at your laptop screen before shutting it off. “Ah, Meeting the Masters. Very well.”

The throbbing between your legs now matches the thumping of your heart. Each contraction directly pumps blood to your clit, ballooning up the inflamed fervidity. You feel the bundle of nerves getting softer and spongier as you get wetter. Your insides ripple as you watch Jake pushes up the neck of the guitar as the trill of notes spills. Even in your murky state of mind, you recognizes that he is improvising by adding twist and turns spontaneously.

“I can hear the gears in your mind turning,” Jake tilts his head as he studies you through hooded eyes. “And it’s interfering with the music.”

He speaks to your pussy the same way he speaks to his guitar.

“Now, tell me what you are thinking. Entertain me with some of your thoughts, baby doll,” the music halts as he stands in front of you. Lifting up your chin, his thumb brushes across your bottom lip. “I’ve missed your voice, y/n. Talk to me.”

It sounded more like a plea instead of a command. Hearing that he misses you too warms up your heart. The pent-up grievance wells up to your throat, pressing a whine out of you: “I miss you so much…I-I imagine you are here.”

Jake hums encouragingly: “Be more specific, love. How, exactly?”

Dirty talk was never your metier. Jake is the talker in bed. He is fully conversant with your body as well as the effect that each of his moves has on you; you’ve always assumed he knows exactly what you want, and he’s always been correct. However, he is determined to push you further today. Seeing your hesitation, he decides to help you out.

“Am I there? Are you watching me?”

“Y-yes,” You take a deep breathe. “I am in the stadium. You..you are playing on stage.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just you, only you. You are playing, and I am in the pit, by the barricade. And I get wet. I kneel down, just like—like I am doing now.” Your fingers flinch away from your clit, the feeling a bit too intense for you to continue the words.

“I am touching myself as I watch you play so perfectly, but you…you are not looking at me.”

Jake lets out a pitiful coo: “awww, I’m being mean, am I? Ignoring my sweet girl?”

“N-no!!” You quickly deny, shaking your head frantically. If you are in your normal mindset, what you are about to say would make you burst, but the fluttering sensation down there is burning a trail of wildfire straight up to your brain; the stiff string in your mind uncoils around the pole of shame as the next sentence fall from your lips hurriedly: “It’s me, I’m seeking emotional validation because I’m such an attention whore.”

Upon hearing that, Jake’s heart clenches. He knows that you are deep in your head and whatever you say now are probably some of the most cathartic and earnest words he will ever hear from you. The words revealing your deepest desire, your long-repressed yearning for him. While flattered by the love and devotion, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt hearing your utter self-degradation. His grip on the guitar tightens, and the base of his thumbnail pales. He almost relents, wanting to scoop you up in his arms, carry you to bed, and adore you with kisses. But you are not finished.

“The gravel is grazing my knees and there will be scratches and bruises after. I finger myself. I close my eyes and imagine it is you doing it…you fucking me with your music. I imagine your fingers fucking my pussy the same way they move across the fret board and strum the strings,” now you find yourself unable to stop—the words plummeting out of you, one after another. Your fingers still dance around your throbbing clit, rubbing your labia up and down faster, drawing breathy moans.

“Haah.. Aaah…Wh-when I look up, I saw myself being projected onto those giant screens on both sides of the stage, the camera zooms in on my face…so, ah, fuck, I am watching you…and me fucking myself at the same time. Oh, please, Jake—” Your hips fall back down to your heels and you drop your head in defeat. Your movements lost its rhythm.

“Keep talking.” Jake paces towards you. You can only see the tip of his sock-clad toes and the way they slightly dig into the carpet. Your hand involuntarily reaches for him, holding onto his ankles first and then slowly creeping upwards. He bends at the waist, the guitar hanging from his shoulder, its neck knocking at your collarbone. His lips graze your ear, a mere whisper reverberates like thunder: “Go on, what else?”

You bite back more moans. “Uh…hum…The people, the people around me. They t-take out their phones and start recording and taking pictures of me.”

“Really, do they? How do you feel about that?”

“Oh God. There’s…I can hear so much…so many clicks and clacks of the shutters. And your guitar. And they talk…” Your hand on his calf fraps, a futile attempt to draw him closer. Your forearm feels sore, your neglected clit screaming for more love and contact.

“Please, Jake. I want to cum…I…” You open your mouth only to chock on a whimper as you feel Jake’s middle finger gently pressing on your clit. He is not moving; his finger merely stays there like bee on a flower's anther, pulling more sticky nectar out of you. Your arm gives out, smacking down on your thigh as you hurl forward.

“Tsk tsk, patience, love. You haven’t finished yet,” Jake leaves sloppy, wet kisses along your jawline. You pander to his lips, head lolling to the side. Every kiss feels like a searing cigarette burn.

“What do they say, y/n? Do they call you a slut?”

“Hell, yes. Yes, they post them online, the videos. They hashtag it…Mmm.. ‘Jake Kiszka’s slut,’ ‘the guitarist’s hoe’…”

With those last two words, Jake’s finger start circling your clit, a silent reward for your honesty and a bait to egg you on further. The agonizing buildup leaves you drenched at this point. The wet gushy sound is your pussy’s content purring, now that she was finally granted some attention.

“And in the end I finished. I finished along with your solo. I—I was so spent that I couldn’t even stand. Then, you finally look at me. You look at me straight in the eyes, and y-you…you said…”

“Good girl.”

“Good girl.”

Reality overlaps your imagination as you both mutter the two exact same words.

Your eyes widen. You lips brush passed Jake’s cheekbone and your forehead drops to the part where the body of the guitar meets the neck. The material cooling your skin like cooling pads for a feverish patient, breathing a sense of clarity into your mind. You are in a complete state of submission to the guitar, almost prostrating and bowing to it—a pagan, blindly asking for blessing and begging its approval.

Holy guitar spirit, please do not take up all of his time; share this man with me as well. God, I ache for him like no one else.

You will probably realize how stupid and abject the plea sounds later, that is, if you still care to recall; but right now, you couldn’t care less. You are hovering perilously on the edge of the precipice.

Lowering his gaze, Jake takes notice of your fingernails digging into the flesh above your knees and how your iron grip around his ankles strengthens even more. He knows it’s about time.

“So fucking pretty, my sweet baby.” The tip of his finger latches down on that exact spot, moving infinitesimally but effective enough to summon all your sensory nerve endings to orchestrate a collective hymn.

“Let go for me, love.”

That’s all you need to hear. Your shoulder hunches, ribcage pulls inward, stomach hollows, the muscles of your thigh contract as the walls of your pussy press together, dragging and sucking Jake’s fingers into you. Immense pleasure, like rock candy, bursts and bounces hither and thither all over your body. A part of you wish time could stop right there, so that you are preserved in the moment of forever bliss with a part of him slotted inside you, like an ignorant beetle being caught in a dollop of tree sap.

Jake makes sure you ride out your high before he straightens up. The soreness of his back only feeds more to the hardness of his cock. He slings the guitar off of his shoulder and sets it flat on the floor using only one arm, not even bothering putting it back on the stand; his other arm already wraps around your shoulder. He kneels down in front of you, his hands closed on each side of your face and his forehead resting against yours. Your breaths mingle as your heartbeats align. Jake gently pulls on your nape as you bury your nose in his chest, feeling his fingers scratching your back.

“Did so well, my love. My good, good girl.”

You catches your breath and musters your strength to look up to him with a tired smile. Your hands trail toward the bulbous erection restricted by his corduroy pants. Your mouth follows.

Jake hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back at the much-needed contact. With impressive willpower, he reaches down and cuddles your chin, pulling you up. “As much as I would love that, I also misses my girl terribly. I want to make love to her. Is that okay? Do I have her permission to love on her properly?”

The echoing tingles from your last orgasm hurtle back, making your head swoon. “Oh God, yes. Please. Jake, please.”

Jake scrambles to his feet and lifts you into his arms. Your legs feel like putty from kneeling so long. You stagger and fall back onto the leather couch. The couch is clearly too small for two grown adults, but neither of you mind or care; if anything, the limited space amplifies every sense. He guides your hands down his length and pumps it a few times. The closeness of your bodies makes his swollen tip pointed directly at your clit. You let out a needy moan, threading your finger through his curls and tugs gently until his eyes are level with yours.

Jake will forever revel in the way you look at him with your doe eyes, your pupil dilated, like you couldn’t believe he is real, like you’re intoxicated by a case of him.

“Hi, beautiful.” he grins.

“Hey you.”

You cup his face and go in for another kiss. He spits in his hand and reaches between you, positioning his length at your entrance and nudging his head in tentatively. You are too caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize your body is so taut, not out of nerves and rejection, but out of a desperate urge to hold him close. The hollowing eagerness that has been compiling for the past few months return with a vengeance. The weight and warmth of Jake’s body on top of you is all you could’ve asked for and more.

Jake can feel the confliction between the welcoming pulsation of your pussy and the hindrance clamping down. “Easy, dear,” he says as his hand on your breast traces down to your hips, rubbing soothing circles on your pelvis.

You tilt your head backwards. Your belly falls as your ribs flare out to the sides. He presses in slowly as you opens for him, until he is fully sheathed inside you. The final piece of the puzzle is being put into place. He moans a silent “fuck” into your sternum. The shiver of air travels right to your heart, through the flesh and bones.

Jake is right, no words other than “make love” can better describe what he is doing to you. Every single one of his movements murmurs “love”—his hand grabs yours and places it against his chest, right where his heart is. His cock repeatedly thrusts and retreats like crashing waves, brushing that particularly sensitive spot. His lips entwine with yours, nibbling and licking.

Pleasure, accumulating rapidly, like an empty bottle under the running tap. The surface tension jiggles, threatening to spill.

“Jake…fuck! I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” Jake’s voice is unsteady too. “I’m right behind you.”

In fact, he didn’t even mange to hold out that long. The pressure sprints down his spine and blasts right to his cock. It spasms inside you, pinching and squirting. You climax together. For a moment, your hearts banging crazily against your ribcage, swearing to break out so they can be pressed together even closer.

You lie in the afterglow, two shells washed ashore, scoured back and forth by the slews of post-orgasmic endorphins.

“I love you, y/n,” Jake sighs into your hair.

“I love you, Jake. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea,” your hands roam on his back.

“I could only imagine,” he sounds compunctious. Jake sneaks his hand behind your head, dipping down for another kiss. “I’m sorry for being away. Thank you for letting me love on you, baby. Your body feels like home to me, you know that?”

You are knocked out of words by the vulnerability and the weight enveloped in that statement. You can only nod, blinking fast to dispel the stinging tears.

“Oh, don’t cry, love,” he smiles at you. There’s also something glistening in his warm caramel eyes. “I am here now, will always be here,” his finger laces with yours, traveling in turn, tapping on your temple, your eyes, and finally resting on the left of your chest, “so, Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctem…”

“Carpe Omnia.”

If home is where the heart is, he has finally settled down. No matter how far, no matter where, once and once again, Jake will always come home to you in the end, where together your soul will dance, entangled in an inseparable embrace—day, night, and for a lifetime.

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Yay you made it!!! Thank you SO MUCH for reading!! Let me know what do you think or if we want a taglist. Any comments, thoughts, and feedbacks are GREATLY welcomed and appreciated.

My other works: Permission to Fall || Mariner's Complex || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

[strawberrymarshmallowsstuff]

I love you~

Jarvis x reader!!!

Hello!! I’m back from the dead!! I hope u enjoy this cute lil fanfic I made about Jarvis cocker!

You called Jarvis on the phone to see what he was up to.

You told him to meet you at the park.

He responded with “okay my darling, I’ll see you at the park”

Your heart fluttered with joy and happiness

But you feel a bit anxious because you’re about to tell him a big big thing

that will probably make you nervous at first.

(Jarvis) Oh hello! What do you wanna tell me?..

You held out a pink envelope with some heart stickers on it so he can get what you’re trying to say to him

(Y/n) here… it’s for you..

(Jarvis) oh thank you!

He opens up the envelope

The note says:

Dear Jarvis,

Ever since we met in 3rd grade,

I’ve felt different

I felt an emotion that I was too scared to tell you about but here I’m telling you about it.

I always had a crush on you

You’re so kind and sweet

When you call me names like darling, little girl, baby.

My heart flutters

I love you so much Jarvis

And I Hope you will love me too.

Sincerely, Y/n

I looked up at him

He was blushing

(Jarvis) Oh Y/n… My darling…

Jarvis hugs you tightly

You start to cry happy tears

(Y/n) J-jarvis~

(Jarvis) I love you so much Y/n you’re so sweet and adorable. I’ll be yours forever darling…

You start to blush

Jarvis gives you kisses on your skin gently and softly

(Jarvis) darling..

(Y/n) yes?..

(Jarvis) I love you~

I hope you enjoyed that lil fanfic I made!!

I love you all!!!

[spunkpunx]

Masterlist

* for smut

<3 for author favourite

Bands/Musicians

Alex Turner:

Are Friends Electric? - Part 1 Part 2

Matt Helders:

Paul Simonon:

Ian Curtis:

Matty Healy:

Deal With It*

George Daniel:

Slush Puppy (Series)

Sid Vicious:

Archy Marshall (King Krule):

Britpop

Liam Gallagher:

Scrapping Over Owt

Noel Gallagher:

Tony McCarroll:

Damon Albarn:

Alex James:

Graham Coxon:

Bittersweet Bundle of Misery* - Part 2*

Jarvis Cocker:

Brett Anderson:

Ian Brown:

Justine Frischmann:

AHS

Kai Anderson:

I Don't Share*

Tate Langdon:

Pretty Girls Make Graves - Part 1

Kit Walker:

James Patrick March:

Jimmy Darling:

Say You Love Me*

Kyle Spencer:

Misty Day:

Ramona Royale:

Winter Anderson:

The Countess:

Lana Winters:

Skins

James Cook:

Chris Miles:

Sid Jenkins:

[wyntertimes-blog]

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* Getting loose with Ivanka and Jay Kay

* The secret portrait of Karren Brady

* PLUS: Cock rings on the 6 O'Clock News

>> Strange times <<The poll winners' party

It probably won't surprise you to learn that champagne corks were popping at 10pm prompt at the Baby Shard on Thursday night, as the Times and the Sun celebrated the projected result of the exit poll.

It's also unlikely to surprise you to learn that Rupert Murdoch, Rebekah Brooks, Les Hinton and all the usual News UK suspects were there too, getting their fourth and fifth trolleys of booze brought in to the office by the time Blyth Valley announced.

The one thing that might surprise you though is that in among the revellers was... Cate Blanchett.This year's series of Love Island has taken three of the top ten spots in Ofcom's list of most complained-about shows of 2019.

>> Straight shooter <<Randy Andy makes 'em standy

It's been a bruising few weeks for Prince Andrew since his cataclysmic interview with Emily Maitlis – but he's probably brimming over with remorse and humility now, right?

Erm.

Earlier this month, Handsy Andy went on another of his (straightforward) shooting weekends. At breakfast one morning, everyone else in the party was sat quietly reading the papers when Andy came into the room.

As no-one stood up for him when he entered, he bellowed "OH HO HO! LET'S TRY THAT AGAIN, SHALL WE?" Then walked out of the room and re-entered, so that everyone could oblige him.There's a This Morning team WhatsApp group entitled "We Hate Phillip".

>> Big Questions <<Who's asking what this week?

What could have caused the Mail to pull a recent exclusive of theirs about a French masseuse meeting with Prince Andrew at Buckingham Palace back in 2000? The story made the paper's front page at the end of November but, save for a report of the Mail's report in the New York Post, there's no trace of it online now.If you subscribe to Popbitch, chances are your internet search history is something you'd rather was kept private. Protect yourself online (plus bypass digital censorship) by using a VPN. CyberGhost is currently offering Popbitch readers a 79% discount on its 18 month plan, which protects up to seven devices, for just £2.15 a month.

[Find out more here]

>> Westwood ho <<Getting loose with Ivanka

Before she became the accomplished businesswoman and occasional threat to global security that she is today, Ivanka Trump had teenage ambitions of becoming a fashion model.

Thanks to her family connections, she was seen for a number of jobs in the late 90s and became a bit of a favourite of Vivienne Westwood. Westwood's team used to make a point of letting the models pick the music they put on in the studio as a way of helping them to relax and feel comfortable on a shoot.

Ivanka's choice of music, every single time? Jamiroquai. Which she would then sing along to.

Peanut from the Kaiser Chiefs is preparing to run his 100th park run over the Christmas holidays.

>> Bah humbug <<More drama at the BBC

The BBC is going heavy on trailing their version of A Christmas Carol this year, making a big song and dance out of the fact it stars Guy Pearce, is written by Peaky Blinders' Steven Knight and has been exec produced by Tom Hardy. One person who's been a little left out in the cold though is director Nick Murphy.

Poor Nick was so miffed that the BBC didn't invite him to take part in a special Q&A event about the show that he ended up turning up anyway to rage at the head of BBC Drama there. His ire hasn't just been reserved for TV execs either as he's started taking pot shots at Tom Hardy on Twitter too, claiming that the catering department was more involved in production than Hardy.

There may be some lingering resentment there, as Hardy was set to star in A Christmas Carol (as well as produce) until he suddenly decided to bail out. But if you ask us, Nick, you had a lucky escape.

On set at Hardy and Knight's previous BBC1 collab, Taboo, crew members reported that Hardy wasn't shy about staying in character, stark-bollock naked, for much of the time. And we can only imagine what it would have been like trying to direct with the Ghost of Christmas Past's dick and balls wafting all around.

Nick Cave Watch: Everyone's favourite goth dad was spotted at an Elton John concert in Melbourne this week.

>> Picture this <<More corporate creepiness

One of Jeffrey Epstein's former employees claims that Epstein kept a 6ft portrait of his mysterious 'fixer' Ghislaine Maxwell above the pool in his sprawling New Mexico mansion. Not just any old portrait though. One of her naked and "posing provocatively".

He wouldn't be the first icky businessman to have had a life-size nudey portrait of a close associate on their wall though. West Ham's porn-purveying chairman, David Sullivan, was once well known in the football world for having a huge painting hung in his basement office.

Of his now Vice-Chairman at West Ham FC, Dame Karren Brady.Andy Coulson has been advised by friends that having his own name in his new PR firm (Coulson Partners) is enough to stop most major organisations from hiring them. So far it's advice that he (and his ego) seem unwilling to take.

>> Shaky casting <<Merry Christmas everyone!

This year's bleak seasonal murder drama, Responsible Child (based on the real life story of a 14 year-old killer who was tried as an adult and jailed) has been getting rave reviews.

Whether it was the shocking nature of the story, or the impressive performance of the child actor who inhabited the role, we couldn't tell you, but for some reason most of the reviews have failed to mention the most important thing about the production.

The kid who plays the murderer is the grandson of Shakin' Stevens.

This week's Media Masters podcast is a chat with historian and broadcaster David Starkey. His outspoken, unforgiving style and trenchant opinions have earned him a reputation as being "the rudest man in Britain". In this in-depth interview he explains the impact it's had over his career.

[Listen/Download on Media Masters]

>> One love <<The race for Xmas No.1

Now that The X Factor is an utterly spent force, and December streaming is dominated by seasonal classics, the annual race for Christmas No.1 has become a much more unpredictable beast.

Re-releases are subjected to permanent ACR restrictions ('Accelerated Chart Ratio') with streaming, which basically means that old, established classics have to generate twice the number of streams as new tracks in order to compete. (Without this, three of the top four last Friday would have been Mariah Carey, Wham! and The Pogues.)

So who's in the running this year? There's another tedious song about sausage rolls from Ladbaby (hideous; but for a good cause). There's the inevitable Ed Sheeran (this year on Stormzy's record). And of course, there's the now traditional Facebook campaign choice.

Facebook campaigns are a bit of a lost cause but it has to be said: of all the songs that the British public could have picked to champion this year, Jarvis Cocker's "(Cunts Are Still) Running The World", is a pretty good one.

[Join the campaign]

REO Speedwagon's original of Can't Fight This Feeling has been streamed more than Bastille's John Lewis ad cover since its release in mid-November.

>> Electile dysfunction <<Another cock up on the Beeb

On election day, there are very strict rules in the UK which forbid news organisations from discussing politics until polling is closed. Which means that news teams have to ignore the biggest story of the day and compile their news bulletins from whatever innocuous filler they can drum up instead.

As part of their non-political Six O'Clock News broadcast last Thursday, BBC1 chose to air an item about the postal service and people sending tiny items in oversized parcels. Alas, it seems there was a very good reason that the Six O'Clock News hadn't touched that story previously.

One of the parcels that was prominently displayed as part of the pre-watershed segment clearly showed a cock ring.Nominative Determinism of the Week: The Senior doorkeeper of the House of Commons... Phil Howse!

>> 2019: The Annual <<A last little gift from us

That's almost it for another year. We've got a couple of special issues to send out between now and 2020, so we'll be back in your inboxes before the New Year. But if you want to sink your teeth into some more Popbitch material over the Christmas holidays, then download our 2019 annual.

It's totally free, and features some of our favourite stories of the year. Print it off at work! Use it as last-minute wrapping paper! Give a copy to your most corruptible niece or nephew!

[Get it here]

And if you enjoy it – or have enjoyed any of the last 52 weeks of Popbitch – and feel like tossing a few quid into our Santa hat for a Christmas pint then we'd be ever so grateful.

[Donate here]

LAST CHANCE BEFORE XMAS: Anyone who donates £10 or more to this year's fundraiser is eligible to download a special play-at-home edition of the Popbitch Popquiz. We'll email you a digital pack with all the answer sheets, question packs and puzzle pages you need to host your own quiz.

[Donate to Popbitch here]

>> Hmmms <<Cats, dogs, Muppets

Rowan Atkinson deepfaked Dior advert

[Ready to lose your libido?]

The reviews of Cats are restoring our faith and trust in journalism

[Read on Prospect]

Picture of dogs in mid-air, catching frisbees

[Cute: what more do you want?]

Need to stock up on wine before the holidays kick off? Naked Wines is offering Popbitch readers the chance to get a case of six sumptuous bottles, plus free delivery, for just £19.99.

[Get your orders in soon!]

What do you get for the man who has everything?

[Try an annual Wank-Pass]

40 years since the Muppets/John Denver Christmas special

[Watch on YouTube]

A crash course in the 100 most memorable memes of the decade

[Read on BuzzFeed]

The real life, bricks-and-mortar Popbitch Popquiz will return in January. Don't let dry January stop you having any fun. Join us at Smiths of Smithfield for another seven rounds of trivia, music and smut with our host, Tom Webb!

[Tuesday 14th January]

[Tuesday 28th January]

Thanks to: JM, bunkle, CA, JC, Party_B, ST, T, JM, BB, CA, RT, MC, bobbi_fleckmann, EC, intheissynoho, MC, AM

Old Jokes Home

I just smashed my keyboard and I'm so angry.

I lost Ctrl.

Still Bored?

If you've already read this year's annual and fancy revisiting some previous years, the last five years' worth are free to download on the Popbitch site throughout December...

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@skippyv20 @yankeewally

[graffiti-vibe-blog]

Bauhaus' co-founder Kevin Haskins to release 'Bauhaus - Undead' Art Book via Cleopatra Records

Bauhaus' member Kevin Haskins will be releasing ‘Bauhaus – Undead: The Visual History and Legacy of Bauhaus’ on March 16 via Cleopatra Records. While this is an elegant and tasteful deluxe coffee table art book, it is also a historical and intimate trip through the development of this groundbreaking band from the perspective and memorabilia of one of the quartet’s founding members. 

Carefully curated from a largely unseen collection of memorabilia and combined with personal recollections by original member and author Kevin Haskins, this beautiful high end coffee table book (10’' x 13’' in 316 pages) takes readers on a visual journey from the bands inception in late 1978 to their breakup in 1983, through to their very successful reformation in 1998 and eventual legendary performance at The Coachella Music Festival in 2005.    

Bauhaus is one of the few groups of the post-punk era to achieve truly mythic status with a savory legacy of artful, timeless, dark rock and theatrical performances. Bauhaus has always been, and continues to be a pivotal link in the evolution and revolution of contemporary music.

‘Bauhaus – Undead’ features original stories penned by Kevin Haskins about poignant and sometimes amusing moments throughout the band’s hallowed career, as well as largely unseen materials, such as photographs from Kevin’s personal collection, band artwork and sketches, DIY flyers made by the band members themselves, backstage passes, show posters, set lists, contracts, tickets stubs, fan club material, pins, their recording schedule, vintage gear photos, tour itineraries, letters, a Bauhaus comic strip | and hand-written lyrics.

Kevin has worked with the impressive design team of Jeff Anderson of Artist In Residence and Donny Phillips and Kaylee Carrington of KIHL Studio. The unique design reflects the bands stripped down aesthetic and art school origins. This is a fitting tribute and celebration of the legacy created by this revolutionary group.

Bauhaus was formed by Daniel Ash in the small industrial town of Northampton, England in the Winter of 1978. Plucking Peter Murphy from his dead end job at the printing works, remarkably, he had no idea if he could sing and just recalled that he was the most charismatic looking one among his high school friends. His intuition was dead on! Following a couple of rehearsals in his parents living room, Daniel recruited the two brothers, Kevin and David Haskins, who would make up the band’s formidable rhythm section.  

After being together for only five weeks, the band recorded their legendary and timeless nine-minute single ‘Bela Lugosi's Dead’, which remained at number one on the British Independent chart for two years. Three years later, the band performed the song for the dramatic opening scene of Tony Scott's sensual vampire movie ‘The Hunger’. Seminal and groundbreaking, the group was too busy following their own muse to chase after fly-by-night-trends. The pioneering spirit that fueled their work established Bauhaus as one of the most important and influential artists of the past three decades.

Their eclectic influences ranged from Psychedelia to Punk, Dub Reggae to Glam, the latter surfacing most notably in their audacious cover of David Bowie’s ‘Ziggy Stardust’, which earned them their first national chart hit in October 1982. The band went on to record four critically acclaimed albums before disbanding in 1983.  

In 1998, the band reformed for an extremely successful ‘Resurrection’ World Tour, attracting a much larger audience than they originally enjoyed back in the day. They sold out three nights at The Palladium in Los Angeles in a record breaking fifteen minutes, attesting to the timeless quality of their music and their ever growing fan base. During its last decade, Bauhaus released a new studio LP ‘Go Away White’, toured with Nine Inch Nails, and played a legendary headlining performance at The Coachella Music Festival in 2005.

Many Artists have name-checked Bauhaus as influences, including Radiohead, Bjork, Massive Attack, Sigur Ros, Nine Inch Nails, Tricky, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Flaming Lips, The Horrors, Jello Biafra, Marilyn Manson, Janes Addiction, Tool, Jarvis Cocker, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Hole, Interpol, Skinny Puppy, The Smashing Pumpkins, and Nirvana, to name just a few.

To mark its release, On March 16, Lethal Amounts and Cleopatra Records will present ‘UNDEAD ~ A Bauhaus Book Release and Signing Party’. While the doors at Lethal Amounts open at 7 pm, the book signing with Kevin Haskins takes places from 8 to 10pm. Books will be sold at the gallery or guests can bring your own copy to be signed, but no records, CDs or other outside merchandise will be signed. Exclusive and limited edition merch is also expected to be available at the event, which will also feature a special guest DJ set.  

In the meantime, copies of the book are now available signed and unsigned via Cleopatra Records at http://bit.ly/2qk1vzu. Signed copies will no longer be available after the street date of March 16.

News story provided by Shameless Promotion PR

[samiwife]

Injury 4 You ੈ✩‧₊˚ (Jarvis Cocker x Reader)

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

𓆩⟡𓆪 = Headcanons

A/N: I'm doing this for my own benefit because honestly I LOVE JARVIS COCKER, he's bbg AH <3 anyways hope you can still enjoy reading it <3

Everyone in my friend group knew Jarvis liked me. But I was so oblivious to it. I always thought Jarvis was being nice. I thought his stuttering was a result of him not knowing what to say. He always blushed and was quiet when I was around. Jarvis is also a little bit clumsy. He always dropped stuff or tripped over a small thing. However, all my friends told me, but I just simply didn't believe them. I always thought if Jarvis did like me then he would have told me already. Jarvis is smart, shy, talented, and most importantly kind. He was always there for me, even if he was busy too. He'll do anything to be with me. I lay in my bed thinking about Jarvis. I thought to myself. "Do I actually like Jarvis?" I said to myself.

I loved talking to him, I loved hanging out with him in his flat listening to music he created, and reading the books on his shelf. I rubbed my head and thought harder. I sighed and got up. "I do like Jarvis!" I said out loud. I started pacing around my room while biting my nails. "How the hell am I supposed to tell him?" I said to myself. I sighed and walked downstairs to my telephone. I phoned Jarvis, and he immediately picked up. "Hello?" he said over the phone. "Hey Jarvis, it's Y/N. I was just calling to ask if I can hang out in your flat?" I asked while twirling the phone wire. "Y-yeah of course love, let me just tidy up and I'll see you here," Jarvis said in a happy tone. "Okay Jarv, see you then," I said then hung up. I smiled ear to ear. I quickly got ready and started walking down the street to Jarvis's.

I eventually reached the flat and knocked on the door. I heard aggressive shuffling and then the door swung open. It was Jarvis, he looked like a mess. His hair was a mess, his shirt collar open, and his belt crooked. "Haha, Jarv. I don't care if your flat is a mess." I said while walking in. "W-well, I didn't want y-you to judge me," Jarvis said as he trailed behind me. "Jarv, your belt is kinda crooked," I said kinda giggling. Jarvis blushes brightly and quickly fixes it but to no avail. I walked over to him and placed my hand around his belt buckle. Jarvis is much taller than me so he was looking down. His face was red from embarrassment or from me being close to him. I quickly shifted his belt buckle to the right position.

"There you go, it's now fixed!" I said while letting go. I looked Jarvis up and down and noticed his shirt collar still looked a mess. I chuckled and walked to Jarvis again. I puffed out his collar and dusted off some particles off his shoulder. Jarvis smiled and blushed. "Thank you Y/N," Jarvis said placing his hand around my hips. I blushed quickly and leaned closer to Jarvis's face. Jarvis lets go of my hips and walks near the window. "It's such a beautiful day outside innit?" Jarvis said. I frowned and walked next to him to the window. "Jarv, I need to tell you something," I said while looking out the window. Jarvis turns his head to look at me. "Yes Y/N, what is it?" Jarvis said smiling. "I like you, I want to be with you," I said confidently. Jarvis blushes and looks down.

I wrapped my arms around Jarvis and leaned my face forward toward his. "Jarvis, do you like me?" I said lowly. Jarvis couldn't speak, he just placed his arms around my waist. I smiled and was about to kiss him. However, Jarvis was leaning too far out the window and he quickly tripped over the ledge and fell. I was shocked and quickly looked down the window to see Jarvis. Thankfully, Jarvis didn't live too high up so he just fell a foot down. I quickly ran down to the front of the flat and checked on Jarvis. "OH MY GOD! JARVIS. ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" I said loudly because I was scared. Jarvis looks up and smiles. "Y-yes Y/N, I'm alright. But, I think my leg is broken." Jarvis said wincing in pain. I quickly ran inside and called an ambulance for Jarvis. As I waited for the ambulance to arrive, I sat next to Jarvis. "Jarvis, you need to be more careful. I was scared you bloody died!" I said in a worried tone. Jarvis laughs and blushes. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little clumsy sometimes." Jarvis said.

Before I could get a word in, I heard the sirens behind me. The paramedic quickly loaded Jarvis on the stretcher and loaded him in the car. "Jarvis, I'll meet you in the hospital okay?" I said to Jarvis. Jarvis couldn't say a word and he just held up a peace sign. I chuckled and quickly called a cab. I was quickly brought to the hospital and asked the lady in the front for Jarvis. They told me that I was going to wait. So I did, I waited in the chairs. I was there for 2 hours until one of the doctors walked out and told me I could come in. I sighed in relief and walked into Jarvis's room. Jarvis was in bed not looking with his face stumbled. Until I walked into the room. His face lit up with joy. "Jarvis! Are you alright? What did the doctors say?" I asked frantically. Jarvis chuckles.

"Y/N, I'm alright. The doctors said I just had a broken leg and I'll just be in a cast. Don't worry love." Jarvis said reassuring me. I sigh in relief and pull a seat next to his bed. I look at Jarvis and he looks back at me. I smiled and chuckled a little. Jarvis placed his hand on my cheek and pulled me in closer. Jarvis kissed my lips, his lips were soft and light. I leaned forward deepening the kiss.. Jarvis pulled away and caressed my face. "You got the kiss you waited for," Jarvis said laughing. I rolled my eyes in a joking manner. "What about you? My mates said you liked me all along." I said. Jarvis blushes looks down and then back up. "Yeah, I did. I just thought you didn't like me. You're so beautiful and sweet" Jarvis said. "Yeah well, what about you? You're smart and talented, and now you took an injury for me," I said laughing. Jarvis started chuckling too. Jarvis stayed in the hospital for 2 more days until he was discharged. I helped Jarvis with getting home. While in Jarvis's flat. I lay on his bed with him. I placed my head on his chest as he looked at me and smiled.