gretavanlace

[gretavanlace]

“Riddle telling ass shoes” is the funniest, most accurate thing ever. He’s our lil Rumpelstiltskin

His tap dancing, riddle telling ass shoes.

[gretavanlace]

His little head shake melts my whole heart

my edit, hope you enjoy!

[gretavanlace]

Taglist continued: @mackalah @jakesmustache @wetkleenex-gvf @profitofthedune @zm-gvf @myleftsock @jakesguitarsolo @literal-dead-leaf @eyelinerjake @afterglowhoney @fwzco @klarxtr @gvfmarge @jakesbarbarian @raviolilegs @sinarainbows @stardustcatcher @alleinblues @wildbluesorbit @milojames16 @bladenotblaze

Sleeping Beauty

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual contact, language, somnophilia (nothing drastic), subby jake, etc.

In response to this ask. I loved it so much and I’m terribly sorry for your wait, lovely anon. I hope you’ll forgive me ❤️

Jake should leave you in peace, and he knows it.

He’s melted into you twice already tonight, gently working you into a quiet euphoria…nails stinging into his back, soft moans and delicate sighs a song against the shell of his ear.

Yes, he knows he ought to let you rest - and don’t you sound so pretty resting? With your rhythmic breaths and gentle hint of a snore?

He should, but he won’t. Can’t.

You’re too warm, skin like satin bared to his hungry, wandering touch. Your hair, freshly washed and smelling of perfumed fruit. Your shoulder, of the loveliness that is so innately you.

If he could render it down, that intoxicating scent, he would inject it into his veins like an addict…let you swim inside him until he was buried under and lost. Comfortably numb.

Your thigh twitches. Just a blip of a movement, but it makes him smile. What is his girl dreaming about?

His grip has pulled you nearer now, tucked in close - a little spoon cradled safely in his love. His fingers, tender, yet insistent, kneading at the swell of your breasts, sweeping across your nipples, feather-light, until they begin to respond to him.

He wants them in his mouth, under his tongue, but he doesn’t want to disturb you any further than he already has, so this will do just fine.

A slight arch in your back tugs a tiny grin to life upon his lips, he wonders if his touch has made its way into whatever dreamworld you happen to be floating through. Do you search for him even while stumbling through strange and unfamiliar terrains?

He would like to think you do. He dreams of you more often than not.

Your nipples are drawn up tightly now, pebbled and peaked, as you press forward again, almost imperceptibly.

But on you slumber. His very own sleeping beauty.

With a slow pinch, he allows himself a bit more boldness. Perhaps, as he gives way to his need, he cares a little less about your rest.

All hope is lost when an airy sigh slips off your pretty tongue, and his hands begin traveling in languid earnest. Squeezing and tugging and pressing as his hips rock into you just barely.

He whispers your name as his mouth travels along your neck, and then groans into the crook of it when your hand reaches back, searching to bury into his tangled waves.

You hum a breathy, “Hi, baby,” into the night, eyes still closed.

”Hello, sleeping beauty,” he answers with a dreamy simper coloring his tone. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You sure about that?” Even with your toes still dipped into the ocean of drowsiness you can’t help but quietly tease him.

”You just feel so good,” he sounds like he is positively aching for you, and that’s because he is. He always is.

His tongue laps lightly over your shoulder just before his teeth find purchase, sinking in with a slow suck that brings a blushing bruise to life.

Admiring it in the moonlight, a lazy, satisfied warmth fills his chest, “Looks pretty on you, my love.”

Nose nuzzling into your tousled locks, he draws in a lungful of you, pressing your breasts together and running the pad of his thumb down the seam they create.

He’s imagining that perfect place, slick with sweat, and his cock - hard and desperate, sliding back and forth, pillowed and snug. How soft you would feel, how warm, how fucking perfect, how you might lick at the tip each time it slipped upwards to say hello.

”I really did want to let you sleep,” His words ghost over the shell of your ear and you long for him to whisper to you this way forever. “You snore, you know?”

The quietest giggle, hardly a sound at all, escapes you, “I don’t snore, Jacob Thomas, stop making things up.”

”Yes, you do,” it’s a sing-song argument, still but a whisper. “It’s adorable. And endearing. I like it.”

Confession too innocent for the way he’s making love to your breasts with his talented hands, you roll to face him…his arms wrapped around you all the while.

“Hi, liar,” you smile once you’re nose to nose.

“M’not a liar,” his voice is gravelly, and he’s a little thirsty with sleep, but not enough to leave your side in search of a glass of water. “You do snore. But it sounds dainty, and sweet. Everything you do is pretty.”

Your cheeks warm, ever the shy one under the spotlight of a compliment. Instead of enduring more - no matter how you secretly treasure them, you guide his mouth downward with a gentle grip fisted in his hair.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he nuzzles against you like a sleek and stunning house cat, and then curls the tip of his tongue over your nipple…sucking the bead of it into his kiss for just a moment. “Is this what you want?”

”I think this is what you want.” The challenge you’d hoped for in your tone drifts off into a shivering sigh when he nips at you.

“I do.” He nods, licking and lapping his tongue over them, suckling and biting. “My pretty girls…my exquisite, pretty girls.”

“Exquisite?” You smile, eyes drifting closed. He responds with a soft sound of confirmation, but can’t be bothered to stop.

A particularly nice flick of his tongue drags a shaky moan from your lungs and he hums right along with you, blissfully. “Feel good?”

”Really good,” your fist tightens in his hair, but your touch remains gentle in this languid and lazy moment. “Do it again?”

You offer it up as a question, which seems absurd to him…as if he would ever deny you. As if you don’t own him completely. As if you hadn’t stolen his heart the moment he laid eyes on you.

He does it again for you, because of course he does, and then again and again, until you’re pressing closer into him and whining so timidly it makes his heart ache and his cock throb.

It twitches against your thigh, hard and flushed hot, sweeping against your skin like velvet. You close your eyes and picture it resting between your bodies, so thick, and thrumming with his frantic pulse, cashmere skin stretched taught with his want, and all for you.

You suddenly need it more than you could ever put into words. Great scholars and poets alike couldn’t begin to describe your ache for him.

You burn and your stomach twists, somersaulting over itself for Jake. For everything he is. For everything he ever will or won’t be.

”Can I touch it?” You whisper, peppering kisses into his bed head as he contentedly licks and sucks away at you, kneading at the soft swell of your breasts carefully. Babying them as though he is tragically in love…and he is. God, how he loves them.

In lieu of tearing his mouth away to respond, he backs his hips away from you just far enough to allow your hand to slip down and wrap around the root of his cock.

You find him fiery to the touch and so hard as a breath huffs out of his nose with a palpable fever.

Thumbing over his head, you find it soaked and swollen as you press into the slit gingerly, just the way he likes. “Your cock is so wet, baby…” you’re trying to tease him, but the words tremble, sounding as needy as you feel, “So hard.”

Thick and pulsing, he strains and flexes in your grip, and then there are those beautiful words. Words no more than a whimper that is bordering upon shy, “Make me cum…”

”Yeah?” Your hand, slick with his need, begins a slow journey up and down the length of him, twisting off at the head before sliding back down. “Does Jakey need it with my tits in his mouth?”

A muffled ‘fuck’ is buried against you as he sucks harder with a nod.

“Are you sore?” He knows he’s already fucked you blind tonight, and he’d rather die than hurt you.

And maybe you are sore, but not enough to not want this, so you offer a soft ‘no’ and then there are his fingers, nudging between your thighs, slipping inside of you, curling and beckoning like a beacon into your favorite spot.

”Goddamn,” he groans, teeth clenched into the tip of your breast, “You’re so warm inside…pretty little pussy opens right up for me. Faster, sweetheart.”

He goes right back to making love to your tits with his gorgeous mouth as your tightened fist flies rapidly over his cock. Squeezing at the head, thumb paying close attention to his favorite spot.

Rolling into his touch, your clit, swollen and soaked, presses flush against the heel of his palm, and it earns a groan of lust-drenched gratitude from somewhere deep in his chest, “That’s my girl, fucking use me.”

Jerking wildly into your palm, he finally gives up and rests his cheek against your chest, panting into your glistening skin.

“Just like that,” he’s thrusting in time with you now, hunting down his release fervently “Fuck, please, just like that.”

”Come on, baby,” you coax quietly, kissing over the crown of his head, gentle demand falling hushed into his tangles, “Cum for me.”

Further into your breasts his face presses as his fingers fuck you closer and closer to the edge, “You, too, sweetheart. Give it to me… I need you to— fuck, please, please…”

The soft pads of his fingers are circling inside you like he sculpted your body with his very own hands. He knows every inch of you. Where to touch, Where to press and tease. Where to pinch and smack and bite when you ask for it to hurt a little.

But when he leans into a touch of submission, as he is now? That lights you up with a frenzied, crazed fire that only he can extinguish.

He feels you tightening, strangling his fingers so forcefully he absently wonders how he ever fits his cock inside the heaven that lives between your thighs, “That’s it…” his face is shoved between your breasts, rendering his praise muffled, “That’s my fucking girl. C’mon, you just relax and let me make you cum. Let me, sweetheart,” he’s babbling now, repeating himself, whining, betraying how close he is, “just wanna make you feel good, let me get you off, just— let me, come on, baby, please…”

Like some sort of twisted, subby bully, he’s shoving you closer and closer, until, with a wild sob of his name, you let go, spilling into his palm as he, in turn, spills over your fist.

A wandering stream of expletives tumbles off of his warm, pink tongue as he sucks and mouths at your overheated skin…fingers tucked up into that lovely place inside you until you can stand it no longer.

“It’s too much, Jake…” your voice is a mirage of itself, “too much.”

With a sound that says he’s sad to leave, he slips out of your fluttering grip, and then shudders with a gentle, sleepy laugh when you squeeze and tug at his softening, sensitive cock. “You’re an evil woman.”

”But I’m your evil woman.” You counter, pulling away, if only to lick at the milky white pearl of him that is rolling down your wrist.

”Yes,” he nods, watching in the darkness with rapt attention, “You’re mine.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @sarakay-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @theweightofjake @joshsmama @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove @josh-iamyour-mama @alwaysonthemend @moralmorbid @welllauragvf

[gretavanlace]

Sleeping Beauty

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual contact, language, somnophilia (nothing drastic), subby jake, etc.

In response to this ask. I loved it so much and I’m terribly sorry for your wait, lovely anon. I hope you’ll forgive me ❤️

Jake should leave you in peace, and he knows it.

He’s melted into you twice already tonight, gently working you into a quiet euphoria…nails stinging into his back, soft moans and delicate sighs a song against the shell of his ear.

Yes, he knows he ought to let you rest - and don’t you sound so pretty resting? With your rhythmic breaths and gentle hint of a snore?

He should, but he won’t. Can’t.

You’re too warm, skin like satin bared to his hungry, wandering touch. Your hair, freshly washed and smelling of perfumed fruit. Your shoulder, of the loveliness that is so innately you.

If he could render it down, that intoxicating scent, he would inject it into his veins like an addict…let you swim inside him until he was buried under and lost. Comfortably numb.

Your thigh twitches. Just a blip of a movement, but it makes him smile. What is his girl dreaming about?

His grip has pulled you nearer now, tucked in close - a little spoon cradled safely in his love. His fingers, tender, yet insistent, kneading at the swell of your breasts, sweeping across your nipples, feather-light, until they begin to respond to him.

He wants them in his mouth, under his tongue, but he doesn’t want to disturb you any further than he already has, so this will do just fine.

A slight arch in your back tugs a tiny grin to life upon his lips, he wonders if his touch has made its way into whatever dreamworld you happen to be floating through. Do you search for him even while stumbling through strange and unfamiliar terrains?

He would like to think you do. He dreams of you more often than not.

Your nipples are drawn up tightly now, pebbled and peaked, as you press forward again, almost imperceptibly.

But on you slumber. His very own sleeping beauty.

With a slow pinch, he allows himself a bit more boldness. Perhaps, as he gives way to his need, he cares a little less about your rest.

All hope is lost when an airy sigh slips off your pretty tongue, and his hands begin traveling in languid earnest. Squeezing and tugging and pressing as his hips rock into you just barely.

He whispers your name as his mouth travels along your neck, and then groans into the crook of it when your hand reaches back, searching to bury into his tangled waves.

You hum a breathy, “Hi, baby,” into the night, eyes still closed.

”Hello, sleeping beauty,” he answers with a dreamy simper coloring his tone. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You sure about that?” Even with your toes still dipped into the ocean of drowsiness you can’t help but quietly tease him.

”You just feel so good,” he sounds like he is positively aching for you, and that’s because he is. He always is.

His tongue laps lightly over your shoulder just before his teeth find purchase, sinking in with a slow suck that brings a blushing bruise to life.

Admiring it in the moonlight, a lazy, satisfied warmth fills his chest, “Looks pretty on you, my love.”

Nose nuzzling into your tousled locks, he draws in a lungful of you, pressing your breasts together and running the pad of his thumb down the seam they create.

He’s imagining that perfect place, slick with sweat, and his cock - hard and desperate, sliding back and forth, pillowed and snug. How soft you would feel, how warm, how fucking perfect, how you might lick at the tip each time it slipped upwards to say hello.

”I really did want to let you sleep,” His words ghost over the shell of your ear and you long for him to whisper to you this way forever. “You snore, you know?”

The quietest giggle, hardly a sound at all, escapes you, “I don’t snore, Jacob Thomas, stop making things up.”

”Yes, you do,” it’s a sing-song argument, still but a whisper. “It’s adorable. And endearing. I like it.”

Confession too innocent for the way he’s making love to your breasts with his talented hands, you roll to face him…his arms wrapped around you all the while.

“Hi, liar,” you smile once you’re nose to nose.

“M’not a liar,” his voice is gravelly, and he’s a little thirsty with sleep, but not enough to leave your side in search of a glass of water. “You do snore. But it sounds dainty, and sweet. Everything you do is pretty.”

Your cheeks warm, ever the shy one under the spotlight of a compliment. Instead of enduring more - no matter how you secretly treasure them, you guide his mouth downward with a gentle grip fisted in his hair.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he nuzzles against you like a sleek and stunning house cat, and then curls the tip of his tongue over your nipple…sucking the bead of it into his kiss for just a moment. “Is this what you want?”

”I think this is what you want.” The challenge you’d hoped for in your tone drifts off into a shivering sigh when he nips at you.

“I do.” He nods, licking and lapping his tongue over them, suckling and biting. “My pretty girls…my exquisite, pretty girls.”

“Exquisite?” You smile, eyes drifting closed. He responds with a soft sound of confirmation, but can’t be bothered to stop.

A particularly nice flick of his tongue drags a shaky moan from your lungs and he hums right along with you, blissfully. “Feel good?”

”Really good,” your fist tightens in his hair, but your touch remains gentle in this languid and lazy moment. “Do it again?”

You offer it up as a question, which seems absurd to him…as if he would ever deny you. As if you don’t own him completely. As if you hadn’t stolen his heart the moment he laid eyes on you.

He does it again for you, because of course he does, and then again and again, until you’re pressing closer into him and whining so timidly it makes his heart ache and his cock throb.

It twitches against your thigh, hard and flushed hot, sweeping against your skin like velvet. You close your eyes and picture it resting between your bodies, so thick, and thrumming with his frantic pulse, cashmere skin stretched taught with his want, and all for you.

You suddenly need it more than you could ever put into words. Great scholars and poets alike couldn’t begin to describe your ache for him.

You burn and your stomach twists, somersaulting over itself for Jake. For everything he is. For everything he ever will or won’t be.

”Can I touch it?” You whisper, peppering kisses into his bed head as he contentedly licks and sucks away at you, kneading at the soft swell of your breasts carefully. Babying them as though he is tragically in love…and he is. God, how he loves them.

In lieu of tearing his mouth away to respond, he backs his hips away from you just far enough to allow your hand to slip down and wrap around the root of his cock.

You find him fiery to the touch and so hard as a breath huffs out of his nose with a palpable fever.

Thumbing over his head, you find it soaked and swollen as you press into the slit gingerly, just the way he likes. “Your cock is so wet, baby…” you’re trying to tease him, but the words tremble, sounding as needy as you feel, “So hard.”

Thick and pulsing, he strains and flexes in your grip, and then there are those beautiful words. Words no more than a whimper that is bordering upon shy, “Make me cum…”

”Yeah?” Your hand, slick with his need, begins a slow journey up and down the length of him, twisting off at the head before sliding back down. “Does Jakey need it with my tits in his mouth?”

A muffled ‘fuck’ is buried against you as he sucks harder with a nod.

“Are you sore?” He knows he’s already fucked you blind tonight, and he’d rather die than hurt you.

And maybe you are sore, but not enough to not want this, so you offer a soft ‘no’ and then there are his fingers, nudging between your thighs, slipping inside of you, curling and beckoning like a beacon into your favorite spot.

”Goddamn,” he groans, teeth clenched into the tip of your breast, “You’re so warm inside…pretty little pussy opens right up for me. Faster, sweetheart.”

He goes right back to making love to your tits with his gorgeous mouth as your tightened fist flies rapidly over his cock. Squeezing at the head, thumb paying close attention to his favorite spot.

Rolling into his touch, your clit, swollen and soaked, presses flush against the heel of his palm, and it earns a groan of lust-drenched gratitude from somewhere deep in his chest, “That’s my girl, fucking use me.”

Jerking wildly into your palm, he finally gives up and rests his cheek against your chest, panting into your glistening skin.

“Just like that,” he’s thrusting in time with you now, hunting down his release fervently “Fuck, please, just like that.”

”Come on, baby,” you coax quietly, kissing over the crown of his head, gentle demand falling hushed into his tangles, “Cum for me.”

Further into your breasts his face presses as his fingers fuck you closer and closer to the edge, “You, too, sweetheart. Give it to me… I need you to— fuck, please, please…”

The soft pads of his fingers are circling inside you like he sculpted your body with his very own hands. He knows every inch of you. Where to touch, Where to press and tease. Where to pinch and smack and bite when you ask for it to hurt a little.

But when he leans into a touch of submission, as he is now? That lights you up with a frenzied, crazed fire that only he can extinguish.

He feels you tightening, strangling his fingers so forcefully he absently wonders how he ever fits his cock inside the heaven that lives between your thighs, “That’s it…” his face is shoved between your breasts, rendering his praise muffled, “That’s my fucking girl. C’mon, you just relax and let me make you cum. Let me, sweetheart,” he’s babbling now, repeating himself, whining, betraying how close he is, “just wanna make you feel good, let me get you off, just— let me, come on, baby, please…”

Like some sort of twisted, subby bully, he’s shoving you closer and closer, until, with a wild sob of his name, you let go, spilling into his palm as he, in turn, spills over your fist.

A wandering stream of expletives tumbles off of his warm, pink tongue as he sucks and mouths at your overheated skin…fingers tucked up into that lovely place inside you until you can stand it no longer.

“It’s too much, Jake…” your voice is a mirage of itself, “too much.”

With a sound that says he’s sad to leave, he slips out of your fluttering grip, and then shudders with a gentle, sleepy laugh when you squeeze and tug at his softening, sensitive cock. “You’re an evil woman.”

”But I’m your evil woman.” You counter, pulling away, if only to lick at the milky white pearl of him that is rolling down your wrist.

”Yes,” he nods, watching in the darkness with rapt attention, “You’re mine.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @sarakay-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @theweightofjake @joshsmama @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove @josh-iamyour-mama @alwaysonthemend @moralmorbid @welllauragvf

[gretavanlace]

need you to see this lol

This is too funny 😂

And also super accurate, because I want a typewriter so badly lol

[gretavanlace]

First, I’d just like to thank everyone for their patience, kindness, and words of encouragement these last couple of weeks. I promise you, it means so much and I am incredibly grateful for all of you.

Second, with that said, I’ll be posting around 6:30 EST tonight (or perhaps a little earlier). It isn’t Sugar, though I SWEAR that’s just around the bend. Instead, just a little something short and sweet in response to a request.

Again, nothing spectacular, just trying to ease back into a little normality 💋

[gretavanlace]

I have seen all of your messages and asks, and the answer is: No, I haven’t left tumblr, and yes - I will be back. I am currently navigating a death in my very immediate family and so deeply appreciate your patience ❤️

You have all always been so kind to me, and I know this will be no different. Thank you in advance…sending love

[gretavanlace]

please i literally beg u to write a quick fic about y/n and jake going to bed, but jakes not rlly tired and y/n falls asleep. then around an hour later or so she wakes up from jake playing with her boobs. and idk just them spooning and he keeps squishing them and making them jiggle all that jazz. and then y/n turns around and she doesnt much say anything bc shes half asleep, but he can suck on them gently. BYE (pls write it)

Locked and loaded. Posting tomorrow ❤️

[gretavanlace]

Everyone should fuck right all the way completely off 🥹🥹🥹🥹

Saw this on Instagram (@ gvfworld) so now you have to see it too

[gretavanlace]

These are literally the same photo idek why I posted this. It's just the same picture twice 🤷

[gretavanlace]

"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.

[gretavanlace]

Oh, okay

9.8.24

[gretavanlace]

This image physically pains me

[gretavanlace]

[gretavanlace]

Oh god

8.28.24

[gretavanlace]

Did you leave tumblr too? No more sugar??

No, I haven’t left xoxo 😘

[gretavanlace]

Bringing this back because it’s perfect…just perfect

Everyone say thank you @sparrowofthedawnsworld

We all know how Jake obviously just loves to watch…

You’re sitting in Jake’s lap, legs on either side of his, to keep you spread apart for him.

His fingers tease at your inner thighs, drawing shapers and patterns, smirking in amusement as the muscles twitch and quiver under his light touches.

“Jake, please…” you whimper, aching and throbbing just to have his fingers inside you, or stroking over your clit.

He complies finally with a low chuckle, bringing his fingers to your dripping heat.

“Aww, is that better now, sweet girl?” Jake coos, lust blown and dark eye, tracking your every move. “You have my fingers on your pretty pussy and suddenly everything is all okay? Needy girl.”

“Yes god, fuck, i love your fingers.” You clench around nothing, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure gradually starts to spread through your whole body.

“I know you do, baby,” Jake says, replacing his fingers with his thumb as he slips two fingers down to your entrance.

He sinks them into you with no hesitation, smiling proudly at the unholy noise it pulls from your lungs.

Your head falls back, arms coming up to grip at his shoulders.

“Open you eyes and look at me, pretty girl,” Jake commands, bringing his free hand up to stroke his knuckles along your cheek.

You bring your head back down and attempt to do what he’s just asked, eyes fluttering slightly as you force them open against your body’s will to keep them closed.

“Good girl,” he praises. “There’s my beautiful angel. So pretty.”

“Jake, I- I need more,” you tell him, rocking your hips into his hand. “Please, Jakey.”

“Shhh, I’m gonna give it to you.” It’s a promise, falling off his lips like honey. His fingers sink deeper into you.

They curl up into that sweet spot, making your mouth drop open in a moan that bounces around Jake’s living room.

“You like it right there?” Jake questions smugly, adding a little more pressure up into that spot.

“Fuck, oh fuck-“ You curse, fighting to stay upright and look at him as the heat in your lower stomach starts to build.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl, or I’ll stop.” Jake threatens, knowing good and well you won’t be able to hold yourself up for very much longer.

“Don’t stop, Jake,” you plead with him desperately, mouth dropped open in open-mouth whimpers and moans, of which are rapidly growing louder. “Don’t stop, pleaseee…”

You force yourself to look him in the eyes once again. His head is tilted back just slightly, watching you fall apart in his lap with a pleased and cocky expression.

It only drives you closer, the cocky smirk and narrowed eyes; watching you ever so intently.

Curling his fingers back up into your sweet spot, he flashes you a wicked grin before shaking them rapidly into it, just like he does to draw vibrato out of his guitar.

Your mouth falls open, and had your eyes not rolled back into your head, you may have seen Jake’s mouth fall open, mocking the faces you’re making.

You collapse into him, head falling against his shoulder. Your face buries into the crook of his neck immediately, but Jake isn’t having it.

“Oh, poor thing,” Jake taunts with faux pity, sliding his hand in between his shoulder and your face, grabbing your jaw and forcing you back up. “Didn’t I tell you I would stop if you don’t look at me?”

He holds you up by your face, just far back enough to keep eye contact with you.

“Are you close?” He asks, voice low and smooth, eyebrows raised as he watches you frantically nod your response.

Trying to form words is far beyond you at this point. Too far gone in the ecstasy of Jake’s fingers to process anything, let alone create a coherent sentence.

“Yeah?” Jake’s fingers are playing you just like his guitar, with speed and precision that’s leaving your head spinning, numbing the limbs of your body and pouring gas into the fire burning in the depths of your body.

“Look right at me, pretty. Right at me and I’ll let you cum.”

“Jake!” You sob through heavy breaths, choking on a moan as his hand slides down to your throat.

Your eyes lock with Jake’s, your need for orgasm helping you to do as Jake says.

His fingers practically vibrate inside you again as his thumb works over your clit, sending you plummeting into an earth shattering orgasm.

Jake watches you with hooded eyes, mouth slightly parted as he drinks in the sight of you coming undone in his lap. He emits a low hum, as your release drips down his fingers and begins to puddle in the palm of his hand.

Once you’ve come down, he releases his grip around your throat and withdraws his fingers from you.

“So good, baby.” Jake presses a kiss to your temple as you fall against his chest.

“Here…” He holds his soaked hand up and you automatically know what he wants.

You take his wrist in your hand, licking yourself from his fingertips. He stops you as your tongue starts to travel to his palm.

“Ah-“ He pulls his hand away quickly, bringing it to his own mouth and you giggle softly at his sudden actions.

“What? You thought I wouldn’t want a taste?”