Jack Met x Girlfriend!Reader | SMUT 18+ (mdni)
The city hums below. You hear it faintly through the cracked window — distant horns, the buzz of neon. But inside the apartment, it’s still. Just Jack humming a catchy melody on repeat. He’s been brainstorming for hours, and you’re there, watching him.
His hoodie sleeves are pushed up, and his iconic trapper hat sits on the desk next to an empty water bottle as his eyes are fixed on his notebook. You’re on his couch, legs crossed under you, pretending to scroll through your phone — but really, you’re watching him. The way his fingers tap a rhythm on the desk without thinking. The way his jaw deliciously flexes when he’s stuck on a lyric.
You finally break the silence.
“You’ve been stuck humming that melody for a while. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the creative process. But maybe…take a little break?”
He exhales sharply. “Yeah. I know.”
You hesitate. “Want some inspiration?”
He swivels in his chair to fully face you, furrowing his brow. “What are you gonna do, you little deviant?”
The air thickens, and his gaze lingers, and it's heavy. Focused. Like how a predator locks onto its prey.
“You, sitting over there all cute, staring at the back of my head. I can feel your lasers shoot into my skull.” He jokes, standing up, making his way toward you.
The butterflies in your stomach flutter as he towers over you while you sit on the couch.
You look up at him, feigning innocence. “Can I not stare at the back of my boyfriend’s head?”
Hands in his pockets, he looks down and tilts his head at you. Kinda like Michael Myers, but lanky and cute.
“You’re trouble, you know that?” he asks, quietly.
You blink. “Why? Because I notice how good you look when you’re frustrated?”
“No,” he interrupts, voice lower now. “You’ve got a sarcastic little mouth. It drives me wild. And, I’ve gotta get this done so Ryan and I can start recording tomorrow. But, unfortunately for him, I don’t want to right now. I wanna jump your bones instead.”
You think about it. “Maybe I’ll let you. Should really finish what you’re working on, though. I don’t wanna be that kind of girlfriend who holds you back, whatever that means.”
He crouches down in front of you, eyes locked with yours. The city’s glow spills across his face, outlining the mess of curls, the sharpness of his jaw, the raw want barely masked.
Jack pouts. “Please, can I take a little break? I need to feel you…”
He melts into you, burying his face into your neck. Breathing in your skin, his beard tickles you and you tug his hair, angling his head to look up at you. His dopey smile and hooded eyelids get you every time.
“You’ve gotta be good. Finish your work, then come find me. I’ll be up in the loft.” You stand up and get ready to leave the room, “And don’t overthink. Impossible, I know, but, blah.” You stick your tongue out at him and then ascend the stairs.
It’s 1:43 AM, and you’re nose-deep in a book that Jack bought you for your birthday. ‘Lady Chatterley's Lover’. It’s a steamy read, and these days, it has been hard for a book to keep your attention unless there’s smutty undertones, or something like that. And Jack knew this about you, so he got you a sexy book. So thoughtful.
The steps creak, and you keep yourself from smirking. Here he comes.
“Baby, I’m done,” He singsongs, “Ah, you’re reading. And you’ve got your cute reading glasses on, god you know what those do to me. Those thick frames, so sexy, seriously. Could eat you up, and I just might.”
You close your book and set it down on the nightstand. He crawls on top of you, making you giggle as he pins your arms down. He’s hard against your inner thigh.
“Someone’s excited to see me, I think.” You purr as he buries his face in your neck, teeth sinking into your skin, nipping and sucking. “That feels so good. Your beard tickles.” You laugh, a soft moan following right after.
“I’m like a vampire, I want to suck your blood. Want your skin, your eyes. Give it to me. All of it.” Jack cooed playfully. “I liked that sound you just made. Make it again.
Your hands find purchase in his thick curls, and he groans in satisfaction, the tighter you grip. You let out wanton moans as he began to grind himself up against your core.
You buck your hips up into him, breath hitching when his hardness presses right where you need it. He groans, low and primal, like he’s been waiting all night for this — and he has.
“You feel that?” he mutters, dragging his hips slowly, agonizingly, the friction electric. “That’s what you do to me. Sitting pretty, reading that filthy book in those cute little glasses…”
Jack growls, kissing you hard, tongue sliding into your mouth with a kind of desperation that makes your head spin. You let him take what he wants and let him devour you. His hands are everywhere — calloused fingers make quick work of your panties when he slides them off of you, his deft fingers brushing up against your clit.
“Take this off,” he murmurs against your lips, tugging at the hem of your hoodie. You lift your arms, and he strips it off in one smooth motion, flinging it somewhere behind him.
“No shirt under and no bra. It’s my lucky day. You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. “How do you expect me to concentrate on work when this—” he drags his tongue down the slope of your breast, teasing, circling — “is right upstairs, being all good and soft and fuckable.”
“Jack—” you gasp, hips arching up into his as he finally starts grinding again, slower now, deliberate. He sucks your nipple into his mouth, humming against it, and your brain short-circuits.
“Take these off,” you whisper, tugging at the waistband of his sweats.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jack stands up and slides off his sweatpants, his cock springing free.
“Ah, no boxers? It’s my lucky day.” You tease.
He lowers himself between your thighs, breath hot against your slick folds, and when he finally licks one long, flat stripe up your center, you nearly sob. His hands grip your hips, keeping you from bucking too hard as his tongue finds your clit — slow, then fast, then circling with maddening precision. He knows exactly how to pull sounds from you, filthy and helpless.
“You taste like you were waiting for me,” he moans, lips glistening. “God, I could stay here all fucking night.”
“Or,” you pant, “you could fuck me like you mean it.”
Jack’s head lifts, eyes blown wide with lust. “Yes, boss.”
He strips off his t-shirt, cock hard and leaking, tip flushed deep pink. He strokes himself once, twice, then lines up and looks you dead in the eye.
“You sure?” he asks, breathless. “Because once I start, I’m not stopping ‘til you forget your name.”
“Jack,” you moan, wrapping a leg around him. “I need you.”
And then he’s inside, thick and stretching you full. He groans like it hurts to hold back, and for a moment, he doesn’t move — just buries his face in your neck and breathes.
“God, you feel too good,” he whispers. “Gonna lose my fucking mind.”
“Then don’t hold back,” you whisper back, digging your nails into his back.
Jack fucks you like a man possessed — slow at first, deep and grinding, then faster, more desperate, filling you as deep as he can. The headboard knocks the wall. The city’s hum fades. All you hear is breathless moaning, skin on skin, his voice rasping your name like a prayer.
And when you come — clenching around him, gasping his name — he follows not long after, hips jerking as he groans into your neck, spilling deep inside you.
You lie tangled together, sweaty and flushed, your limbs knotted like vines.
“Break well spent?” you ask, breathlessly.
Jack laughs against your collarbone. “Best productivity hack of my life.”
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