Having been previously disinterested in interpersonal relationships, and in particular being the unhinged, intense, person he is, he isn’t prepared to handle the swathe of unfamiliar feelings overwhelming him.
Where before his mind contained nothing but self-serving schemes, there is now a growing, gnawing obsession with you; he is unable to rid himself of visions of you splayed out beneath him, his name falling from your lips.
All his life he has gotten what he wanted, either by force or bribery, and now, he wants you.
Things Jack would do before a relationship when a new worker catches his eye:
Watching you with magical items [mirror/crystal ball]
In the privacy of his chambers, he summons your visage before him, his eyes hungrily drinking in every detail; the soft skin that he yearns to rake his hands over, the soft curves he longs to hold in his grasp, the lips he aches to feel wrapped around his cock.
Braced against the desk, tongue almost lolling and lips parted, he fucks himself to the sight of you; his hips bucking urgently as he pumps his shaft with a clenched fist. A string of guttural grunts and breathy curses tumble from his lips as he loses himself in the fantasy, his lidded eyes fluttering with the pleasure as he nears climax.
His mind conjures scenarios, flashes of obscene imagery that push him closer and closer to the edge. He has you against the wall, savagely fucking you as you cry out his name. He has you in his lap, bouncing you hard on his cock like a fucktoy. He has you in his bed, the violet sheets the only thing obscuring the bare flesh of your body.
He mutters to himself, to you, as if you’re truly there before him.
“Mm, I know you want it, you little slut… I’m going to fucking ruin you, get you drunk on this cock… oh fuck… ahh… your body is mine, all mine, mine to toy with, mine to fill, it’s mine… shit... oh shit… I’m gonna come… I’m gonna- ngh”
Tailoring your schedule to keep you nearby as long as possible
The hours you’re scheduled to work just so happen to coincide with the times that Jack is at the factory, leaving his office more than the more experienced staff have ever witnessed. If you feel like you’re being watched, it’s because you are.
Whenever you get close to a co-worker they disappear without a trace
The first time a new work friend spontaneously skipped town without a word, you didn’t think much of it. Some people are impulsive like that. However, when the third or fourth person you’d made the mistake of getting friendly with didn’t show up for work, some sketchy explanation always ready on the lips of your, admittedly nervous, supervisor, you knew something was amiss. It would never have occurred to you that this was your employers doing.
Keeping a diary on his person where he details your interactions
In his breast pocket, he keeps a small notebook, bound in purple leather. If anyone were ever to get their hands on this item, they would quickly meet an untimely demise, as its contents are as incriminating as they are personal.
Within the book awaits what appears to be the scrawling of a madman; with messy, frantic passages outlining the details of your schedule, your address, your favourite perfume, every morsel of information he had managed to find about you is in that book.
Alongside your profile are recordings of every interaction you have ever had with him, throwaway glances and smiles that you had thought nothing of.
“July 12th 3pm – Passed her in the east hallway by the kitchen, and she smiled at me. It took all my willpower not to simply take her right there, it would have been so easy, but I have to be patient, I have to bide my time. She will be mine.”
“August 8th 12pm – I saw her eating a pastry while she took her break. Watching those lips wrap around it, cleaning the cream from her fingers with her tongue, fuck. I had to lock myself in my office until I was certain I wouldn’t do anything rash. I’ve never been so hard. I have to act soon or I’ll lose my mind, but I can’t risk scaring her off, it would be tedious tracking her down again.”
Also found in the book are explicit, detailed paragraphs outlining exactly what he plans to do to you, once he finally makes his move. Different positions to fuck you in, different locations and surfaces to fuck you on or up against, the things he’d dress you up in like his personal little dolly, the ways he would keep you to himself, no matter what it takes.
In terms of initiating a relationship, following the previous content:
Calling you into his office, subtly locking the door without you noticing, and either seducing you by means of good old-fashioned intimidation, or nefarious potion related deeds
Whether it’s the offer of a strange-tasting coffee that you’re too polite, and nervous, to refuse or the fact you’ve always admired him from afar, certain a man so powerful would have no interest in the likes of you, you find yourself in his arms.
When he finally has you where he wants you, months of pent-up lust are upon you in an instant. His broad hands are all over you, grabbing and kneading the contours of your body greedily. His plump lips find purchase against your throat, intent on leaving claiming bruises.
He backs you up against the nearest surface, pressing the bulge in his trousers flush against you, aching with need. He is like a man possessed in his urgency, tearing your clothes from you and breathing heavy at your ear.
“Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve needed this… I’ve been so patient, such a good boy, I deserve this… You’ve always been mine… Tell me you’re mine, say it, I need you to say it.”
Confident that your escape, your rejection, is no longer a concern, he’s immediately as rough as he needs to be to truly fulfil his desires. He’ll fuck you hard, as deep as he can manage, all the while his fingers are squeezing around your bruised throat just enough to have you seeing stars.
“I knew you’d like it rough, such a needy little slut… oh shit… oh fuck you’re so wet for me… “
Finally, once in an established relationship following the above events:
Carving or branding his initials into your skin, marking his property
Hickeys aren’t good enough, no, not for the likes of Jack. If he’s to leave his mark on your body, it ought to be something far more… permanent.
Placing you in his lap, facing away from him, he slides your shirt over your head to reveal the bare skin of your back. The sudden chill on your exposed flesh makes you shiver, but it is soon replaced by the warmth of his broad hand.
“Jack?” you ask in a trembling voice
“Mhm?” he hums in response, tracing the tip of the blade across the canvas of your skin, marking out the lines he intends to follow. His breath is hot against the back of your neck.
“I know it’s stupid to ask, but can you try not to make it hurt… too bad at least?”
He chuckles softly, finding your apprehension, your fear, adorable.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he replies, with no intention of actually doing anything. The pain is an essential part of the process in his eyes, it’s got to hurt in order to mean anything, or else he might as well use a marker pen. He needs it to hurt.
With a shaky intake of breath, you attempt to brace yourself for what comes next.
Snaking his free hand up your body to cup your jaw, he readies the knife. The anticipation has his cock hardening beneath you.
“Time to stake my claim,” he murmurs, “property of Jack Horner…”
Your body goes rigid as the point of the blade breaks the skin; the sickening sensation of being sliced open washing over you as he slowly, appreciatively, drags the blade downwards to begin carving a large J.
“Ahh!” You can’t hold back the sounds of pain that are forced to the surface, tears beginning to streak down your cheeks, wetting his fingers.
His hips grind up against your ass in response, a low groan rumbling in his chest. The metallic scent of blood as the knife carves into your flesh only fuelling his erection.
“Ah, Jack,” you whine, arching your back away from him, “it really hurts…”
His cock twitches beneath you at the sound of your cries.
Continuing his work, lifting the blade to an adjacent patch of skin to begin the next letter, he swipes a thumb across your moistened cheek, revelling in your tears.
“Oh, I know, I know… you’re doing so good for me,” he croons, leaning in to plant a wet kiss against the side of your neck. “Mm, what a pretty canvas, making such pretty little noises.” His voice is growing hoarse with carnal hunger, getting off on this more than you realise.
He allows the blade to slip ever so slightly deeper as he finishes carving out a jagged C into your now bloodied back, pushing to see how far you’ll bend until you break.
“Jack!” you moan in agony, beginning to quiver with adrenaline, nerves screaming.
“That’s right, that’s my name, the name you’ll always carry with you.” He grinds his erection against you. “Like mother used to say, put your name on your playthings…”
He abruptly drags the blade diagonally to finish the first part of his name, and you cry out.
“If lost, return to Jack,” he murmurs gruffly against the back of your neck, wetting his fingers in the bright crimson of your blood, and briefly imagining himself using the slick fluid as a lubricant.
“Is… is it almost done?” you grit out, weak from the pain.
“Not yet,” he replies, distractedly admiring the ragged lines he has created in lacerating your flesh to spell out a capitalised JACK. “But it’s already so perfect.”
The pain is beginning to become familiar, numbing you only slightly to the intensity as he completes his work, engraving the final letter where it will scar your flesh forever.
JACK HORNER
Inspecting the finished product, breathless with pride and arousal, he traces the raw gouges with his index finger. The wet sensation of the open wounds and the visage of his name forever carved into your body has his erection throbbing.
WTF THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD LIKE GOD DAMN I’M OVER HERE KICK MY FEET AND GIGGLING AND BLUSHING BRO, LIKE WHY TF IS THIS SO GOOD AHHHHHH I NEED THIS MAN MORE IN MY LIFE NOW ❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰
But on a more serious note thank you so much for writing this. it’s so good and well written that I can’t wait for more ❤️
#pls daddy fuck me like that #jack Horner # I need this man in my life at this point 😭 #amazing fucking writing
STORY BOARD JACK MY LOVEEEE I SWEAR I CRIED SO DAMM HARD LIKE LITERALLY WHEN I SAW HIM LOOK AT MY MAN MY BBGIRL MY LIL WOOF WOOF THE LOVE OF MY LIVE, HE LOOKS SO CUTE
THIS IS THE MOST WE GET OF HIM IN THE DELETED SCENES I SWEAR DREAMWORKS PLEASE IM ON THE FLOOR CRYING AND SHAKING GIVE ME MORE OF THIS MAN I BEG YOU PLEASE
I love how they draw him, lil bolw cut, thick top lip. And the damn baker has glasses he is so simplyfied he looks like a frog sorry 😔
Also im LOVING the fact he kinda undresses himself/looses his clothes a lot when traveling, this is my first reason why i would ADORE LOVE being part of the baker dozen, because who cares if you might die you get TO SEE HIM UNINFORMAL YESSSSS
Also a very good reference from the tank yes sir.
And more here!
This is just him walking over his man godamn i wish that were me. I took more BUT ONLY 10 IMAGES REALLY TUMBLR UGH YOU ARE KILLING MY SIMPING RIGHT HERE.
loving jack horner is a job and i’m working overtime, getting promoted, moving up the corporate ladder. im filling out time cards left and right. no breaks, no weekends, just me working my 9 to 5 and sucking up to my employer 🫡🫡
The only reason people hate on Jack Horner simps is because he’s fat. If he was skinny there wouldn’t be anyone upset about people being attracted to him. Well fuck that. Jack is fat, and he’s hot as fuck. Don’t let anyone shame you for liking him.
BRO IM DO TIERED OF PEOPLE HATEING ON JACK SIMPS BUT BEING A-OK WITH SANS SIMPS. but fr tho i see people going on paragraphs of how it wrong and i just want be like
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