Jake Lockley Smut - Blog Posts

Really Rally posting PURE GOLD

jake lockley- mistress

from rally: This was written for the beautiful, talented, absolutely amazing soul @silvernight-m for our holiday gift exchange. I had no idea that being in a fandom would be such an important part of my life, and you're such a huge part of that, my friend.

I admire your courage, honesty, and humor. Please scream at me any time you want because I ALWAYS LOVE IT!!!! Thank you for sharing a corner of your life (and pictures of your pets) with me. Also, I went ahead and pasted a mustache on that Jake photo b/c that's how we like 'em.

Summary: Jake & his mistress have a loving, kinky relationship (~1.8k)

---

“Jake, this isn’t a punishment if you ask for it.”

He groans. “I can’t help it. I see you, and I start begging.”

Jake is tied to the bed with Steven’s old restraints. Each of his ankles and wrists snugly secured and pulled apart. Completely at your mercy. The way both of you like it.

You stand at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. “And in your expert opinion, what punishment do you deserve tonight, Jake?”

His cock twitches, already hard and dark, leaking onto his stomach as he lays there helplessly. You’re still dressed in your sweater and pants.

“Don’t know if you noticed, but I grew out my mustache exactly how you like it.”

You walk up the side of the bed slowly, lean forward to give him a gentle pat on the cheek. “And what do you expect me to do with it?”

His hooded eyelids blink at you. “Ride it, mi amor. Obviously.” He licks his lips slowly, pulls at his restraints as if he’d forgotten, for a second, that he’s tied up. “As many hours as you want.”

He grins up at you, but it fades quickly when you don’t respond in kind.

You hold his chin in your hand a little too hard.

“You seem to be forgetting your manners,” you say, steel in every word.

He swallows. “I’m sorry, mistress.”

“Good boy.” You stroke your fingers over his mustache with a sigh. As much as you want to do as he asks, you can’t give in to him. Can’t let him call the shots when he’s the one immobilized and at your mercy. “Jake, do you like touching me?”

You move forward onto the bed, kneeling over him enough so that he gets a eyeful of cleavage.

“Yes, mistress. Greatest privilege of my entire fucking life,” he says.

You smile. “A privilege. A reward, maybe? But you said you wanted to be punished.”

Jake’s eyes dart to your face. He’s caught by his own logic and he knows it. “Uh, mi amor.”

You slap his cheek. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to sting. “No, Jake. You don’t get to act like a desperate little slut and expect me to indulge you. You do what I tell you. If I want you to bark, you bark. If I want you to crawl down the street naked, then you will. If I want you to fuck me until your dick falls of, then I’ll get exactly that. Isn’t that how this works?”

“Yes, but-“

“What the fuck did you just say to me? Were you going to contradict me?”

You back off the bed, standing straighter, looming over him.

“No, mistress. Or, yes, mistress. Fuck.” Jake winces, pulling at the cuffs for real this time. They don’t give. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Louder,” you raise your voice.

“I’m sorry,” he almost yells. His chest heaves up and down.

You shake your head. “I’m disappointed.”

A little sound escapes him, almost a whine. His big, brown eyes plead with you. A curl of dark hair is already sticking to his forehead, the rest wild and tangled on the pillow. You tuck a second one underneath so his head is propped up. So he can see down his body and you, when you stand at the end of the bed again.

“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything you want.” He’s calmer now, but you hear the edge in his voice. He needs it now. He needs you to treat him like only you how.

“I like the sound of that.” Your eyes trace his body, lovingly taking in his olive skin, how his muscles tense and tremble, his hips and thick thighs. They settle back on his cock. “That looks almost painful, Jake.”

“It is, mistress,” he pants. “I just want to please you.”

His eyes look down. He’s cowed now, gentler.

Sometimes it takes Jake a few tries to get into the right space to submit to you. But it’s fun for both of you, when you finally break him.

“I want to see you come,” you say with a sweet smile.

His eyes look back up, hopeful.

“Oh no,” you almost laugh, “I’m not going to touch you. That would make it too easy.”

“Mistress, I-“

“And you’re not going to touch yourself either.” You stroke one of his ankles, just above the restraint. “No, Jake, you’re going to lay there, just like that, and you’re going to come for me. If you want to act like a whore, then you’re going to come like one.”

His jaw clenches so tight you almost wonder what kind of argument he’s having with himself (or whomever). It’s not that he’s in pain. It’s not about comfort. He’s frustrated beyond belief. The night hasn’t played out like he wanted it to, and he almost can’t handle it. He doesn’t want to be the brat you’d accused him of being, even though he definitely is.

“You want to stop?” You ask, letting your voice get softer for a second.

He shakes his head, his curly hair brushing back and forth over his forehead. “No, this is fucking great. How’d I ever end up with someone as amazing as you?” He grins, breaking character for a moment before remembering his task, re-focusing. “Okay, mistress, for you, I’ll give it a shot.”

You frown at him. “You’ll do more than give it a shot. Or else I’m going to make you wear a ball gag whenever you’re fronting at home for two weeks.”

Jake doesn’t look scared, not exactly. It’s more anticipation. You can see him doing the math on it. Honestly, he’d probably like to wear the gag. You would too. It’s more fun this way, though.

In the end, he nods. “Okay, I can come for you.” He shifts on the bed. “Mistress, could you keep talking to me? Or yelling at me? The sound of your voice-“

“Would help you get off. So no, Jake. Stop whining and come. Make yourself a pathetic mess for me, baby.” You coo at him.

He hums in his throat, his hips moving ever so slightly. You can only imagine the dirty fantasies he’s conjuring in his mind as his heavy eyelids shut. You see the muscles of his ass clench, his hips rising and falling.

Jake makes a noise of frustration.

“Fuck,” he spits out. His hips sink back down to the bed. He opens his eyes, his breath heavy. “I can’t, mistress. I’m sorry.”

He looks so sad, so angry at himself, that you have to give in a little.

“What were you thinking about?” You ask softly.

Jake’s head shakes subtly.

“Tell me,” you order him.

“The other night. You were sucking Marc off, but you were wearing one of my white button-downs because you were cold. He was so hard on you because you wouldn’t take it off. Your face was a mess. You wanted him to go hard on you, and you wanted to wear a piece of me.” Jake swallows. His cock gets a little harder, so stiff it’s not even touching his stomach anymore. “Marc asked you if you wanted me to front. But you said no. You both did it to torture me. You knew I was watching. I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life.”

His hips buck up. His head falls back down. He groans loudly.

“You’re right. I am a whore. For you, mistress,” his words barely escape his lips. They’re mostly air as he moves up and down against nothing. Sometimes the tip of his cock hits his stomach and he shakes from the feeling. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m coming. I’m coming for you.”

His hips push high as his hands grab the restraints. He pulls on them, his muscles going tight and flexing as he comes spurts of gorgeous, thick cum onto his own stomach. It drips up his chest, down over his sides, pools onto the bed.

Exhausted, he falls down onto the bed. He tries to catch his breath, a smile on the corner of his lips. “Holy shit, mi amor. Was that good for you?”

You let yourself smile back at him, reaching over to undo the straps on his ankles. “I can’t believe I just stood there and watched that. I wanted to touch you so badly.”

You rub Jake’s ankles, then move to undo his wrists.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Of course.” His hand cups your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You kiss him on the lips. “I do like your mustache like this.”

Jake shrugs. “I know. Maybe after my shower, I can take you for a ride.”

He wiggles his upper lip, making you laugh. He reaches into the nightstand for a towel from the stack he keeps there. He gives his body a quick wipe down.

“Why don’t you go lie down on the couch? I’ll make you a snack so you have something to do while I clean up and change the sheets,” he says.

“You let me do all of that to you, and somehow, you end up giving me aftercare? Doesn’t seem really fair to you, Jake.”

His dark eyes sparkle at you. He throws the towel into the laundry hamper one-handed. “You’re my soul, my love, my life. You took care of me so well tonight. Let me do something for you. Please,” he winks at you, “mistress.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“I love you, mi amor,” he says, leaning in to kiss you again. But instead of touching his lips to yours, he scrubs his mustache along your cheek. “I’ve got all kinds of plans for this mustache. New Year’s is going to be special this year.”

“You have plans? Jake,” you pat his shoulder lovingly, “that mustache and that face belong to me. This year, next year, every year.”

“I like the sound of that,” he agrees. “You’re going to have hard time topping last year, though, when you had me on my knees for an hour, starting off the year with my tongue-“

“Don’t you worry, Jake. I’ll have no problems topping last year. In fact, I think you’ll enjoy just how I’m going to… top... it.”

His dark eyes go wide in delight. He swings you around in his arms, planting a huge kiss on your lips. “You’re a hell of a woman.”

“I’m going to fuck you until you’re brain dead.”

He growls, squeezing you in his arms. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Jake settles you on the couch with a movie and your phone, whistling on his way to the shower. When he comes back out, you’re asleep already, but Jake doesn’t wake you. He unfolds a blanket, carefully lays it over your body and kisses the top of your head.

Before you, he wouldn’t have thought twice about going out, killing an hour by punching faces in. Now, though, he’s taking a night off. He settles on the couch, one hand on your sleeping body.

He’s happy to not have to guard every single traveler of the night. He wants to protect you, to watch you, to be there when you wake up. This year, next year, every year, just like you’d promised him.

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please lmk if you'd like to be removed- i promise not to take it personally!

As far as I'm concerned, there is no way I can disagree. There was a great deal of tension and chemistry between these two. Amazingly well portrayal of Jake.

Management of Anger || Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: Steven and Marc send Jake to anger management therapy so he can work on his murderous behavior. However, the whole therapy goes horribly awry.

Rating: 🔞explicit

Warnings: smut, minors DNI!

Word count: 3333 😃

Pairing: Jake Lockley x fem!Reader

Authors: Cass & Rouge

A/N: orange italics - reader speaking Spanish, red italics - Jake speaking Spanish, blue italics - Marc speaking Spanish

Jake was fed up with it.

Marc and Steven kept bugging him about stupid anger management.

He didn't really need it, of course. His anger issues were nonexistent. Jake was fine, but those two were taking his actions too seriously, fucking pussies.

Yet here he was, sitting in a waiting room.

When another patient left the psychiatrist's office, a receptionist, who appeared to be a young girl, smiled at him. "Please come in, the doctor is awaiting, sir."

"Fucking finally. I was getting ready to leave," he growled, walking inside.

The receptionist frowned slightly but chose not to comment on the man's behavior.

The office was a large room with just a wooden desk, a massive leather chair, a chaise lounge, and an armchair.

You graduated two years ago and have recently opened your first office. You'd gained a lot of regular customers since then, but this man was someone new. "Please take a seat, sir," you said, nodding to the armchair.

Jake took a seat and looked around. The room wasn't anything special, but the thing that really got his attention was the pretty, cute doctor that was about to help him.

"I was expecting to see a kind of Hannibal Lecter-style doctor, but seeing you here makes it more worthwhile," he smirked.

You smiled at him and rose from your seat; after circling the desk, you approached the man and extended your hand to him. "My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I'm the psychiatrist who will assist you with your anger issues. Would you like to start by introducing yourself?"

He grabbed your palm gently. "I am Jake Lockley. At your service," Jake said softly before placing a kiss on top of your hand.

You gave him your sweetest smile; it was very charming of him to act like an old-school gentleman. "Jake, it's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me what brings you here," you returned to your previous location.

Jake was quiet for a moment. Telling you the truth could put him in more trouble. “I was forced to come here by two of my friends," he muttered, looking at you. "When I look at you, it wasn't such a crappy idea after all."

"I'll take it as a compliment," you said as you settled into your leather armchair, crossed your legs, and put on your glasses to look over his file. "That's a reasonable place, to begin with. It's critical to have others' support, and I'm sure your friends were just concerned about your behavior. Jake, how would you describe yourself and how do you feel right now?"

Jake laughed softly at the 'support' part. They weren't supporting him, they were forcing him to come here. "I would describe myself as incredibly handsome and now I feel horny as fuck if I can be honest."

He made you laugh; this was not what you expected to hear from your patient, but he was so cute in his boldness. "Uhm, Jake, thank you for your input, and I must say, you're a very handsome fella, but I was more interested in whether you're angry right now and how your life looks on a daily basis. What are you doing for a living?"

"I do... Stuff," he shrugged, "if not for those two idiots who support me, my life would be a fucking paradise. It pretty much depends on the order I get. Ever since I laid my eyes on you, I feel calm like a fucking río."

"Is it safe to say that your job causes you stress and negative emotions? What steps do you take to get rid of them?"

"I..." He shrugged. "Punch a few fuckers. It not only calms me down but also gets the job done. So double win."

You took some notes and returned your focus to him. "Good. Let's move on to something else. Do you have any interests, Jake?"

"Let's see, smoking, drinking, guns, knives, murder...." He looked up at you. "Documentaries."

You took more notes with your brow raised. "Thank you for your candor. Would you mind telling me where you got your interest in guns and knives? You can move around the office freely if you want; it helps most patients think."

Jake nodded and got up to walk around a bit, curious about what he would find there. "What if I do mind telling you that?"

"We can of course change the topic then. No pressure."

"¡Maravilloso! Let's change the subject to... You being so preciosa that I want to fuck you here and now," Jake said boldly, walking closer to your desk.

You cocked your brow slowly. "That's very kind of you, Jake, but we should concentrate on you, not me," you chuckled, trying not to blush at the man's words.

"It's difficult to focus on me when you are here, pretty one."

"Mr. Lockley," you got up from your desk, giving him a look. "I need to remind you that I'm a doctor and you're a patient."

“I think that's a very fitting scene, don't you think, Mrs. Y/L/N? Just you, a pretty, cute doctor, and me, a troubled thug. We could have fun, cariño," Jake muttered in a low tone, daring to wrap an arm around your waist.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips; the situation was spiraling out of control. What scared you the most was that you were tense at all times, which was not only unprofessional but also inappropriate.

"You are so stiff. You like this, huh?"

"Maybe..."

"Maybe yes or maybe a lot?" He whispered.

You cleared your throat to maintain composure. "Mr. Lockley, I think you're crossing the line," you said quietly, barely moving your lips. "I'd like to request that you return to your previous location."

"Oh, I will return to my previous location, with you on my lap," Jake responded.

You led him back to the armchair he had previously sat in. "Now, Mr. Lockley, let me remind you that this is a therapy session, not some type of get-together."

He grabbed your waist and pushed you onto his lap. "Well, it's an anger management thing. What if you help me with my anger?"

He took you by surprise - you fell onto his lap with a tiny whine. You tried not to move too much while he held you on his lap; the situation was spiraling out of control. You reached down to improve your black pencil skirt, which reached just above your thigh. "I'm glad to hear I can help you with your anger, but Jake, this isn't about to happen this way."

"¡Vaya! Me encanta cuando me llamas por mi nombre," Jake hummed happily, placing a hand on your leg to stroke it gently. "I'd like to hear you scream it and moan it."

This guy was having an effect on you; no matter how hard you tried to remain professional, his grip on your waist and his touch on your leg made it nearly impossible for you to think clearly. "Jake... Please, bring us back to the session. Anyone can enter at any time."

"Oh, you are too pretty to lie and you are terrible at it, cariño. My session is on, no one can walk in as they please. Not to mention your guarding bitch that will stop anyone who would get such an idea," he whispered and gently kissed your neck. "Hueles tan dulce ... sabrosa. I can feel that all the anger is fading out so quickly."

You moaned, instantly covering your mouth with your curled palm, blinking in disbelief at your own action, as you couldn't keep your cool any longer.

Chuckling lowly, he moved closer to your ear and whispered. "Apenas te toqué y cantas. musica para mis oidos.”

You slid off his lap and looked down at him, your cheeks flushed. You pulled your skirt up and straddled his lap, cupping his cheeks into your hands to kiss him because he knew how to keep you going.

He kissed you back and immediately picked you up, getting up from his seat. Still kissing you, he walked to your desk, pushed the stuff off of it, and then sat you down before pulling away. "This skirt is annoying me."

You hummed a bit at him. "It's a shame, for you have to deal with it in some way. I'm not taking it off."

Jake smiled and pulled out his pocket knife. "Let's make a sexy slit for that beautiful leg of yours." Before you could protest Jake cut the material of your skirt on the side. "Let's see what is hiding there."

When his gaze fell on the black, lacy underwear, you gasped and your cheeks flushed. "You know how much I paid for this skirt, Jake? Now, give me the knife."

"Not happening, little one," he shook his head, hiding the knife. "I bet you will rip me off enough to buy a brand-new skirt."

Your hand rested on his hips and slid down to his crotch, where you massaged the slight bulge you could already feel growing.

Jake purred at your touch. "You are a quick one. Don't ya want to stay professional anymore?"

His mocking of you grew tiresome. "Fuck off, Jake Lockley, and do what you've wanted since the moment you laid your eyes on me."

As Jake laughed loudly, he knelt between your legs. Humming, he shifted the panties aside and latched on your clit.

You rolled your head back and slipped your hand into his locks, muttering quietly fuck.

He licked the delicate bundle of nerves, biting it gently from time to time just to get a reaction out of you.

Observing his actions turned you into a moaning mess. "Keep going, Jake, don't stop," you said, putting your legs on his shoulders. Him biting on your clitoris was the most pleasurable torture. After a while, you realized how wet you had become. "Fuck me, fuck me, I need you to fuck my pussy."

Jake looked up at you. His fingers slipped into your hole. "Oh, really?” He asked, moving his finger slowly in and out. "Ask nicely."

"Fuck me," you whined quietly, taking your glasses off and putting them aside. "Fuck me. I know you want it too."

"I want you to keep these on," he said as he reattached the glasses. "Yeah, now I can fuck you. Looking so fucking sexy," Jack nodded, working on his belt.

You bit your lower lip as you watched him. "Do you mind if I assist you, Jake?"

"Go on. Be a smart girl and take care of it."

You instinctively reached for his belt and undid the metal buckle holding it in place, then opened his fly, looking him in the eyes with a mischievous grin.

Jake watched you as he played with your hair.

As you gently pushed him off the desk, you hopped up and kneeled in front of him, pulling his cock out and licking his shaft.

He pulled your hair into a ponytail and held it tightly in his hand as he commented, "I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

"I want that as well," you replied, smiling at him, then bent in and caressed his left testicle with your tongue before sucking the whole nugget inside your mouth. You moved your right hand up to the base of his cock. Your mouth let go of his cock as you released the gentle sucking pressure. Your mouth and tongue then traced a trail up his penis until you reached the head. You used your tongue to trace small circles in the triangular region just under the head of his cock until he was squirming. Then you placed the whole head in your mouth still stimulating the underside with your tongue. Then you took as much of his shaft into your mouth as you could. Your right hand firmly held the base shifting up and down with your mouth which provided a gentle sucking pressure.

Jake hummed loudly as he enjoyed your attention. While playing with your hair, he scanned the wall clock. "You are one naughty doctor, but you better hurry up. Time is running out and I don't want to pay extra."

With a loud pop sound, you pulled him out of your mouth and spat down on his cock's tip. "If you fuck me well, I'm not charging you for another visit." When he was close to coming and his ball sack had tightened up into the base of his penis, you pulled back up to the tip of his cock, toying with him again tracing tiny circles with the middle of your tongue. You weren't ready for him to come yet. You released him with your mouth and hands and slowly stood to kiss him, hopping on the desk again, spreading your legs a little. "Come on. What the fuck are you waiting for?"

"Look at you," Jake mused, moving between your legs. He grabbed both of them and wrapped them around his waist before pushing his cock into you. Without giving you even a moment to adjust he set a strong pace with deep thrusts. "Tan poco profesional. Traes vergüenza a toda tu profesión. Me encanta," Jake said with a smile.

"Y no te molestó ni un poco," you gasped, wrapping your arm around his neck, in an attempt to support yourself, yet his pace was too rough to bear, so you ended up laying down on the desk, your back arched.

"Buena niña, mi propia pequeña zorra," Lockley growled, undoing your shirt so he could get to your beautiful tits. Then he moved your bra up, and his hands grabbed one of your breasts, massaging it.

"I'll fucking cum!" You whined, trying to keep your voice low. As he started kneading your breast, you moaned for him, feeling your pussy clenching rhythmically around his dick buried deep inside you.

"Cum for me, little one," Jake said, gently pinching your nipples.

With a loud moan escaping your lips, you milked his cock, arching your back even more and wrapping your legs around him tightly, to drive him deeper.

He praised you and after a few more thrusts, he pulled out and then pulled you back onto your knees. "Such a pretty girl," Jake muttered, jerking himself off to soon cum all over your face.

With a loud gasp, you tried your best to catch all of his cum into your mouth. You wrapped your mouth around his shaft after he jerked himself off, just to suck him clean. Only then did you get up and wipe his semen off your cheek with the top of your hand. "That was something, Mr. Lockley. You're so fucking talented."

“Doc, you're not so bad yourself. I've never felt so calm in my fucked up life," Jake nodded and adjusted his pants. "I think I would like an appointment next week."

As you pulled your skirt down, adjusted your bra, and buttoned your shirt, you gave the man a nod. "If you'd like, Jake, you can set an appointment with my receptionist. She'll be more than happy to offer you a term. I literally can't wait to meet with you again, Mr. Lockley. Thank you for today. And homework for you - try to focus on breathing and thinking about something pleasant once you feel anger growing."

"Oh, I definitely will do that. Especially when I'll jerk off. I'll be breathing and thinking about something nice... Like my sexy doctor," he muttered, walking to the door.

Running the tip of your tongue along your lip, you nodded. Don't forget to leave me something for me, Mr. Lockley. Have a good afternoon. See you next week."

Once he stepped out of the office, the receptionist gave him a glance; the young lady heard some inappropriate things and she thought she should call the security but since her employer didn't ask her to, she let it be. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah. I would like to set an appointment for next week," he informed leaning against the desk casually, running his hand through his hair.

The girl cocked her brow and typed something on the computer. "Is Friday at 4 pm suitable for you, sir?"

"Sure it is,” Jake nodded. "Hey? Where is the bathroom?”

"On the left, at the end of that corridor," she pointed in the direction. "Do you need anything else, sir?"

Jake shook his head and then headed to the bathroom. He locked the door and smiled at the sight of two mirrors. It would make stuff easier. "So, I need to say. This whole anger management thing wasn't such a stupid idea after all," he concluded and started to wash his hands.

"You came there for the anger management, not the sexual management, Jake," Marc scolded him, appearing in one of the mirrors, arms folded against his chest.

Her thick, British accent continued, "You depraved that poor woman..." It was Steven, he was tugging on the sleeves of the shirt as he appeared in the second mirror.

Jake shrugged in response to them both. "Well, she wanted to fuck so I didn't 'deprave that poor woman' but I fucked the naughty doctor and it actually helped me with my anger so it's basically a double win situation."

"Oh, God. Marc, did you hear that? Tell him something. This is not what you do with women just because they want to do inappropriate things," Steven turned with his back to Jake.

Marc shook his head in disbelief. "Jake, really? I heard you set another appointment. Just please, no fucking next time."

"If you want to do those naughty things, you better ask her out, it's more appropriate that way," Steven added. "What if she gets pregnant? Oh God, you couldn't wear rubber, could you?"

Jake rolled his eyes annoyed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I finished on her face, this is not how stuff works, kid, but next time I will take some condoms. Thanks for reminding me about that, Steven. I will fuck her again and I ain't asking her out. Honestly, I already can't wait for another visit."

"Oh my God, Marc, do something with him, I'm going bonkers, I swear," Steven added.

"Jake, Jake, listen, it's anger management, right? We sent ya here so you can work on your murderous behavior, right? Not so you can just fuck your therapist, for Khonshu's sake," Marc shook his head in disbelief.

"Imbéciles, I will keep my murderous behaviors, but I am grateful for your help. For once the two of you actually became useful by finding me a pretty girl to let out some steam," Jake chuckled loudly. "Shall we go back home or will I keep standing here like an idiot and talk to myself?"

"It's time to learn how to treat women, and I'm addressing this not only to Jake but to you as well, Marc," Steven replied loudly. "He just fucks every woman he meets and breaks their hearts and limbs sometimes, and you almost dumped your sweet wife and vanished without a word for months. You both suck at maintaining a healthy relationship with girls," Steven added before vanishing.

Marc grimaced and blinked in disbelief. "What the hell was that?"

Jake listened and watched Steven with his eyebrows raised. Then he looked at Marc and shrugged. "Our frustrated, vegan, British virgin snapped? Or something like that, I don't really know. He is crazier than me sometimes."

"Don't be so harsh on him, he's... So much different than any of us. Okay, Jake, get your ass back home, we'll talk there. The last thing we need is to make any more inconvenience to the receptionist."

"Maybe she will join next time..." Jake hummed quietly, rubbing his chin.

"Lockley," Marc replied with a cold grimace. "Rápido, rápido."

"No me digas cómo vivir mi vida. Tu no eres mi madre," Jake said loudly before walking out of the bathroom to finally get back home.

HELP ME FIND A JAKE LOCKLEY FIC!

I RANDOMLY READ A SMUT FIC ABOUT THE READER BEING A BRAT FOR STEVEN AND MARC SO JAKE TAMES HER, RECORDS IT FOR MARC AND STEVEN AND SAYS “TAG YOU’RE IT” AND MY IDIOT SELF FELL ASLEEP & LOST IT! I BELIEVE IT WAS GONNA HAVE A PART 2! IF YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT PLEASE GIVE ME THE NAME I BEG!

UPDATE: I FOUND IT😮‍💨

FOR SCIENCE | the project proposal

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Steven Grant/Marc Spector/Jake Lockley x afab!psychologist!reader (3.2k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: descriptions of mental illness, depictions of DID, fetishization of mental disorders (DID), potentially unethical scientific practices, no smut in this part NOTES: again, please don’t read this if you’re concerned at all with research ethics, as this is NOT a good demonstration of scientific procedures and studies. DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

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Marc Spector’s psyche was a psychologist’s wet dream.

Three distinct personalities, completely separated from each other, all occupying the same host body. At one point, all mutually unaware of the others, but now living together in solidarity and (relative) cooperation.

Meeting Marc Spector was a happy accident—but meeting a man with a clearcut case of Dissociative Identity Disorder as a Professor of Psychology? Now that was just pure, dumb luck.

You had met Steven Grant first. You’d run into him at the British Museum during a university-sponsored visit. Your interaction had been brief, but it was memorable for you nonetheless—there was just something about those soft brown eyes and dopey, shy smile that melted your heart.

Imagine your surprise when you accidentally ran into that same man on the bus, only for him to introduce himself as Marc with a midwestern American accent and a cold, calculated gleam in his stare. He was forward and confident—very much unlike your previous encounter with him. When you called his bluff and swore you’d interacted with him under the guise of Steven, he pulled you aside and gently tried to justify the confusion.

“It’s—I have this...condition. It’s—have you ever heard of Dissociative Identity Disorder?”

You had tried hard to fight your smile.

“Yeah, I’m familiar with it.”

It was only revealed to him—after his winded and lengthy explanation—that you had a doctorate degree in clinical psychology and specialized in mental disorders.

Steven’s curiosity was piqued, and Marc silently hoped you’d be able to shed some insight into the functioning of his fragmented mind. You quickly established an easy friendship, somewhat reminiscent of a relationship between a client and therapist—although you knew and cared for each other on a much deeper and more intimate level.

Several months later, you were finally introduced to the most elusive alter within the system—Jake Lockley.

You began to spend the majority of your free time with the men—all three of them seemed to be relatively taken with you. Steven was sweet, Marc was shrewd, and Jake was steadfast. It was sometimes difficult to conceptualize that they all shared the same physical body with how differently they behaved.

It hadn’t started as a project—genuinely, truly, it hadn’t. It wasn’t your intention to be so captivated by those big brown puppy-dog eyes or the softness within his smile. And the feelings you had for him—for all of them—were real, and raw, and indisputable. You would never, ever, ever do anything to make them feel uncomfortable or jeopardize your relationships in any way.

Which is why this was such a bad fucking idea.

Your nails drummed against the side of your porcelain coffee mug as your nervously chewed on the cap of your red pen, making a futile attempt to focus on grading the research report in front of you, but your attention was clearly elsewhere. Your eyes kept darting to the clock on the wall across from you, watching the second hand tick away slowly. The coffee shop was playing gentle soothing acoustic songs, the smell of cinnamon lingering in the air, but even the coziness wasn’t enough to shake your nerves.

“Hey, there, Doc.”

Your head perked at the sound of a familiar voice, a warming hand clapping your shoulder as Marc Spector walked to the other side of the small table and sat down across from you. You groaned at his greeting, pulling your reading glasses from your nose and setting them on the table in front of you.

“Marc, I swear, if you call me that one more time, I’ll—”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, although he was smirking slyly at you.

“Alright, alright, jeez—what’s got you wound up so tight, huh?”

He reached for the paper on top of the stack in front of you, reading off the title aloud.

“An In-depth Investigation Into the Underlying Psychological Causes of Erectile Dysfunction in Men Under 50.”

His face contorted in a look of disgust.

“Jesus—that’s gotta be the most boring fuckin’ thing I’ve ever heard.”

You watched as his eyes fluttered briefly, his posture sinking and his features softening. When his eyes regained focus, he shook his head, huffing.

“Bugger off, Marc—I think it sounds plenty interestin’.”

Steven smiled graciously, offering the packet back to you. You accepted it tiredly, throwing it atop the pile of what seemed like an endless supply of mediocre student submissions that had yet to be graded.

“Thanks, Steven, but Marc’s right—my brain’s fried. I swear, if I have to read another shitty case study about men whose dicks don’t work, I’ll gouge my eyes out.”

The man chuckled at your confession as you shoved the stack of papers into your briefcase clumsily, snapping it shut without a second thought and letting it fall back to the floor beside your table. You carefully picked up your mug and took a long, slow sip—your coffee was barely lukewarm, at this point, as you’d be sitting at the cafe for hours, working quietly as you patiently waited on your friend’s arrival.

Although Steven was blissfully oblivious, Marc was observant. His consciousness pushed to the front, studying you carefully—your white-knuckled grip against your cup, your shifty eyes that were looking everywhere but at him, the tension in your shoulders and nervous bouncing of your leg.

“Alright—what’s wrong?”

Your gaze snapped over to him where he was sat with arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed in suspicion. You tried to force a smile in an effort to cover up your uncertainty.

“Nothing’s wrong, Marc. Promise.”

You held his gaze intently, trying to convince him with your half-hearted response. His stare didn't waver, and after a few brief moments, you had to look down, overwhelmed with the intensity of his scrutiny.

“Alright, let’s try that again. Y/N—what’s wrong?”

You let a long, exasperated sigh, running a tired hand down your face. This had been weighing on you for a few days, at this point, and you still weren’t sure if you could handle the emotional labor this conversation would require.

“It’s true, nothing’s—nothing’s wrong, per se, I just—I just need to talk to you. I’ve—I have this idea—”

“Like—a work-related, science-y idea? You want Steven? Or—I can try my best to help, but sometimes you get excited and start talking really fast and I can’t keep up, but—”

“No, Marc, it’s not—I mean, it’s not really science-y, but like, also—it kinda is? I don’t know how to explain it, but I really need to—”

“I mean, whatever it is, you seem pretty worried about it, so obviously it’s important, and—and I just wanna make sure we’re giving you whatever response you need, or, at least—”

“Jesus, Marc, if you’d let me finish.”

You clipped, and his jaw snapped shut instantaneously, somewhat taken aback by your outburst. You were normally so controlled, practiced with your expressions, so seeing any sign of emotional imbalance was startling.

Guilt immediately flooded your stomach after you lashed out—you buried your head in your hands, taking a few slow, deliberate breaths in an attempt to quell your rapid heartbeat.

“Shit—sorry, I didn’t mean—this is just... I’m not sure how to go about this.”

You felt the featherlight brush of calloused fingertips against your forearm, coaxing your face away from your palms. When you finally lifted your head, Steven had returned, his eyes soft and reassuring. He pulled your hand into his, squeezing briefly before rubbing his thumb comfortingly across your knuckles.

“S’alright, love, truly. Take as much time as you need, and—and if there’s anythin’ you need from us, it’s yours. Just—whenever you’re ready.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies flitting in your stomach at Steven’s gentle promise. You inhaled once more, before finding his eyes.

“This—I need to talk to all three of you. Can you—are you in a place where you can all be co-conscious?”

Steven’s lips turned up at the corners at your thoughtfulness. He received verbal responses from both Marc and Jake—a confirmation that they were both actively listening.

“’Course. We’re all here. Is—do you have a preference, as to who you’d like to speak with?”

You returned his smile, offering a slight squeeze to his hand.

“I mean—since you’re already fronting, might as well stay, huh?”

Steven blushed, trying to fight the giddiness that came from your validation. He quickly steeled himself, reminding himself that you were struggling to open up to him.

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready, then, yeah?”

You cautiously pulled your hand away from his, mostly to keep yourself grounded and get out what you needed before you second-guessed yourself.

“So.”

You cautiously began.

“I had this—this idea. And it’s—it sounds crazy, and I get that, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, especially because—well, I just feel like this is something that could have damning effects on the entire field of psychology, with both practical and theoretical applications, but—that doesn’t mean—I don’t want you to feel obligated by any means to agree, or—or to feel pressured into anything, and I definitely don’t want you to think that—that I’m using you, because that couldn’t be farther from the truth, I swear, and—”

“Y/N.”

His tone was soft, a quiet interruption from your rambling, and your eyes widened in concern. However, he offered you a reassuring nod.

“Just tell us what it is, yeah? We’ll go from there.”

You nodded slowly, squeezing your eyes shut, before beginning again.

“There’s this huge debate in psychology. It’s pretty much the basis of a lot of our research—the whole nature versus nurture debate. Basically, it’s all about how much of our personalities can be attributed to genetics versus how much can be attributed to our life experiences.”

Steven was listening intently, leaning forward into your words.

“Well, it’s—it’s a concept that’s really difficult to research, because, well, we don’t really have a basis of comparison. The best thing we have to go off of is when identical twins get separated at birth and grow up in different places. Or, at least—that was the best we’ve had up until this point. Does—does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

He assured, nodding in acknowledgement. You only hoped the other two alters were keeping up.

“So, basically what I’m getting at here, is, well—you, and—and all three of you, really—Marc and Jake, you guys provide a really, really unique opportunity, because, well—you share a body. So, physiologically, you’re completely identical. The only thing that’s different about you is who you are, so—your life experiences and memories and things like that. You’re—you’re like the perfect example of how our experiences shape our beings.”

“Right. Right.”

Steven followed your train of thought carefully, brows furrowed. You took a deep breath. This is the part you were dreading.

“So, I had this thought... you three boys are so vastly different from each other. Like, really, really different, and—and you each have your own preferences, things like that, but—but you still have the same body. In my Abnormal Psych course, we’re studying intimacy and desire right now. So—so what I was wondering was about your—your sexuality. Like, to what extent are your sexual preferences due to your biology rather than your cognition.”

Steven blew out a shaky exhale, though he tried not to appear perturbed by your words. His mind was silent—he could feel the intense focus from his alters, now hanging on your every word.

“What if there was a way, to, you know, test, how different your sexual preferences are? And to test and see how your arousal is different, or the same, based on locations of stimulation and things like that?”

Bloody fucking hell.

In a split second, Marc was fronting, Steven slipping back into the headspace, completely overwhelmed and unsure of what to say or how to react. You noticed the abrupt switch, and after recovering from the brief whiplash, you felt panic spur within you. You’d scared him away.

Marc’s brows were furrowed, like he wasn’t completely picking up what you were putting down.

“So, what exactly are you suggesting?”

You closed your eyes.

“I guess—what I’m suggesting is that you—you help me research. You—you let me study you, each of you, independently, to see—to see how different your sexual behaviors and preferences are.”

“Like—like a questionnaire, or something?”

Marc questioned, but when you shook your head, eyes casting downwards, it suddenly dawned on him. Steven’s departure made sense. Everything made sense.

“So... so lemme get this straight.”

Marc made a stopping motion with his hand, gesturing for you to pause.

“You—want to have sex, with me—with us... for science?”

“Well, I mean, it—it doesn’t necessarily have to be with me, I could—we could find someone else, if you’re more comfortable, and—and I could just observe, or—”

“So you’re a voyeur, now?”

You jolted and Marc’s vulgarity, eyes quickly scanning your surroundings to make sure no one was listening in on your conversation. Luckily, the cafe was relatively deserted at that point.

“No! No, that’s not—I’m just saying, with what I’m suggesting, it—it would make the most sense for the researcher to—to be more hands-on, but that’s...”

Your voice trailed off, staring at a speck of grime on the table, trying to calm the rapid racing of your heart.

Yeah, seems she's interested in being real hands-on, huh?

Marc struggled to hold in his snickering at Jake’s internal dialogue, but after seeing the worry that was clinging to your features, his sympathy prevailed.

“Y/N.”

He spoke calmly, cool and collected. Your eyes flitted to his, where he was watching you intently. However, you could see the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“So what you’re saying is... you want to have sex, with me, for science.”

He reiterated, and you opened your mouth to protest, to defend your credibility, to rationalize your bizarre proposition, but instead, a long sigh escaped you as you admitted defeat.

“Yes. Yeah. That’s…exactly what I’m saying.”

A brief silence stagnated between you, and there was a tightness forming in your chest as every worst-case-scenario began coming to fruition in the forefront of your mind.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to overstep, or—or—”

“What, exactly, would this entail?”

Marc inquired, unable to deny his curiosity. You blinked once, then twice, processing his words.

“So—so you’ll do it?”

He held up his hands as if to tell you to slow down.

“Just—hang on. Hypothetically speaking, what—what would this even look like?”

Excitement zipped up your skin as you reached down into your briefcase, pulling out a manila folder full of several sheets of scribbled ideas and disorganized thoughts.

“Well, see, I’ve been brainstorming—”

Christ, she has the whole thing planned.

Steven’s voice sounded faint, breathless, winded. Marc ignored him, instead focusing in on your sudden enthusiasm.

“—and I came up with a research plan. So, the way it would go—we’d meet for the weekend, three weekends in a row, with a week break in between. Each alter will have their own weekend to be the subject of study. Day one, we—well, you would lead the sexual encounter. Do what you want, showcase what sex usually looks like for you, what you like, what you don’t like—”

Marc's mind was reeling. He shamelessly attempted to ignore the effect your words were having on him. Do what you want. What you like. To you.

You were still talking.

“—and then the second day, you’d let me take the reins. I’ll psychoanalyze your behavior from the first day, and synthesize that with all the information I already have about you, and I’ll try to—well, I don’t wanna say push your buttons, but—basically, as shitty as it sounds, I’d be trying to bring to light any vulnerabilities, prod at the soft spots, stuff like that. Try to see if I can find what it is each of you seeks out through sexual intimacy. Does that make sense?”

Marc shook his head, lost in thought, but he blinked away the fog in his mind and quickly corrected himself with a nod.

“Yeah, I mean—I think so? Would this—what would you do, once it’s over? Like, what’s the point?”

“It would never be published, or shared with anyone else, I can promise you that. It’s—it would mostly be for me. Kind of like a passion project, I guess. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, and, well...”

Passion project?

What’s she mean, ‘she’s been thinkin’ about it for awhile?’

Marc almost shushed the voices in his head aloud, trying to clear his head of static so he could properly take all of this in.

He looked up at you, and you were staring up at him with eye round and hopeful, almost reverent as they passed over him. He blew out a slow breath.

“Do... can we have time to think about it? To talk about it?”

The fuck do you mean, jefe? I’m ready to start right now.

You nodded encouragingly, although Marc caught the brief glimmer of disappointment in your eyes.

“Of course, Marc. Take as long as you need. And—please don’t feel obligated to say yes. I mean it. I know—I know this kind of came out of left field, and—and I don’t want to violate any boundaries, or—or jeopardize our friendship in any way, I would never want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, just—”

You stalled your tangent with a slow breath.

“Just let me know, okay?”

Marc nodded at you, smiling softly and contemplatively as he rose from the table and exited the coffeeshop, leaving you to stew in anticipation and something adjacent to remorse.

The call came in the next day, at 11am on the dot. It was Steven on the other line when you answered, walking out of the lecture hall doors as your class adjourned.

“Hello?”

You answered.

“Mornin’, Y/N. It’s, uh—It’s Steven.”

You giggled.

“I know, Steven. I have caller ID, and believe it or not, your accent is kind of distinct.”

You could practically hear him blush on the other end.

“Right. Yeah. Well, I just—I was callin’ to, uh—Christ, of course they made me do this, I can’t even—”

“Steven.”

You interrupted gently, your calmness soothing his nerves to some degree. He took a breath.

“Sorry. I—We talked it over. The whole—your experiment. And—and I think we’re all up for it.”

You froze in your tracks, students continuing to rush around on either side of you in the hallway. Your hand was shaking.

“I—really? Are you sure?”

“Well, no—I mean, yeah, I just—of course, I’ve got some reservations, but, I mean—it’s for science, yeah?"

A smile was creeping up your face.

“Yeah. Yes. For—for research purposes.”

Yeah, solely research purposes, my ass.

Marc quipped internally, and Steven gulped.

“Right, then. Could we—shall we meet again today, or—whenever, to talk it over a bit more?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“That’d be perfect. We can meet same time, same place as yesterday?”

He gave a hum of agreement, and you felt suddenly breathless as the reality of the situation began to set in.

“Right. I’ll—I’ll see you then, okay, Steven?”

“Yeah, ‘lright, cheers.”

“And, Steven?”

You called quickly, hoping to catch him before he ended the call.

He hummed in response. You smiled.

“Thank you. Really, thank you.”