#jack sparrow x reader

[linakindarocks]

"he's my husband!" (he's a fictional character)

[ilovebillkaulitzzz]

Nobody :

Me ignoring the "minors do not interact" "18+" "minors dni" warning signs in fanfics

[yourmum8609]

we girls are honestly simple creatures. we want one of two guys:

Dark, Sexy, Morally gray guy

pretty much exactly that lol

dark hair, nice eyes, scars, tall, you get the gist

super unaffectionate with else except her

spoils her like a princess

beats anyone up who looks at her AHHHHH

speaks another language (this is extremely important in bed)

Golden Retriever, Sweet, Handsome guy

literally the nicest guy in the entire world

loves cuddling, like cannot and will not go a day without it

kisses EVERYWHERE

also spoils you

constantly complementing you

is protective but not in a ‘you can’t wear that out’ kind of way

don’t break his heart istg

[dreamygirl19]

​✦ A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST

​“Elizabeth Swann found a portrait of a women in Jack’s quaters, she decided to ask about her, and curiosity peaked when she sees the shift in Jack’s behavior at her mention.”

​─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

​𓍢ִ໋🌹͙֒ Jack Sparrow x Reader ┊ angst, no fluff, mention of death, grieving ┊ 2.3k words

The Black Pearl sliced through the Caribbean Sea, the moonlight glinting off its dark hull. Inside the captain’s quarters, the air was thick with the scent of rum, sea salt, and old parchment. Elizabeth Swann ran a finger along the spines of the leather-bound books that lined the shelves, a small, weary sigh escaping her lips. She had come to speak with Captain Jack Sparrow, though she wasn't entirely sure what there was to say. They had reached a fragile, almost tense, peace on this voyage, a truce born of necessity rather than friendship.

Jack, perched on the edge of his desk, was polishing a compass that hadn't pointed north in years. His eyes, though perpetually shadowed by kohl, were sharp as they watched her. "Lost, my dearie?" he asked, a playful lilt in his voice. "If it's me you're looking for, you've found me."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, her gaze catching on something half-hidden in the shadows of the room. It was a small, ornate portrait, propped against a stack of charts. She moved closer, drawn by the delicate brushstrokes. The subject was a woman, her hair the color of h/c and her eyes a vibrant, surprising e/c. A small, knowing smile played on her lips. She wore a simple dress, not the finery of a lady, but a practical outfit of a sailor or a rogue.

"Who is she, Jack?" Elizabeth asked, her voice quiet. The portrait held an undeniable power, a certain spark that reminded her of Jack himself.

He stopped polishing his compass, his hand still. The playful mask he wore so easily slipped away, replaced by a flicker of something she couldn't name—nostalgia, sorrow, a distant affection. "An old acquaintance," he mumbled, turning his back to her to place the compass on the desk.

"She's beautiful," Elizabeth said, reaching out to pick up the frame.

A sharp knock on the door made them both jump. Jack’s demeanor immediately shifted back to his familiar, theatrical self. "Enter!" he called out, his voice booming with practiced bravado.

The door swung open, and Will Turner stepped inside. "Jack," he said, his eyes going straight to Elizabeth's hand, which held the portrait. His brow furrowed in curiosity. "Just came to discuss some of the crew organizations. We're running low on hands for the night shift."

Jack's eyes flicked from Will's questioning look to Elizabeth's hand, still holding the portrait. For a moment, a storm of emotions seemed to pass over his face—concern about the ship, a flash of annoyance at the interruption, and something else, something hidden and private, that Elizabeth knew she had just glimpsed in the depths of his soul. He gave Will a lazy salute. "Right then, William. The crew's got a grand plan for us today, it seems. We can discuss my 'acquaintance' later, Elizabeth." He winked, but the light in his eyes had dimmed, and for the first time, Elizabeth saw a glimpse of the man beneath the pirate.

A silence, heavy and thick with unspoken questions, settled over the captain's quarters. Will's eyes, still fixed on the portrait in Elizabeth's hand, narrowed slightly. "You just went quiet, Jack. Who is she?"

Jack’s signature smirk had vanished, replaced by a quiet stillness that was far more unnerving than his usual theatrics. He turned from the desk, running a hand over his face. "Some things, Will, are best left to the tides and the wind," he mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically low.

Elizabeth ignored him, stepping closer to Will. "He said she was an 'old acquaintance.' But look at him, Will. He hasn't looked this… sober since he lost his jar of dirt."

Will took the portrait from her, his gaze sweeping over the delicate features of the woman within the frame. "I've never seen her before," he said, turning it over and then back. "There's no name on it."

Jack let out a long, theatrical sigh, a poor attempt at a distraction. He walked to his cabinet and poured himself a generous measure of rum. "A man is allowed a bit of privacy, isn't he? It's not like I go asking about your little... knick-knacks."

Elizabeth crossed her arms, a determined glint in her eye. "Don't try to change the subject, Jack. You act like she's a ghost."

At the word 'ghost', Jack froze, his hand halfway to his mouth. The playful mask he wore so easily was gone. The shadows in his eyes deepened as he stared at the portrait, a flicker of something raw and private crossing his features. "Some ghosts," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "are more real than the living." He looked up, first at Will, then at Elizabeth, his gaze holding them both in a rare, genuine moment of vulnerability. "Her name is Y/n," he said, the name a soft, almost reverent sound on his lips. "And she was the best part of me."

A profound silence filled the room, broken only by the gentle creak of the ship. Will and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, their earlier curiosity now replaced by a deep and unexpected empathy. This wasn't the Jack they knew—the flamboyant, roguish pirate with a quip for every occasion. This was a man stripped bare, his vulnerability on full display.

Jack took a long pull from his bottle, his eyes fixed on some distant memory. "She was… a tempest, that one. More beautiful than any mermaid, with a spirit wilder than the sea itself. And those eyes of hers, e/c pools of mischief and kindness. She could out-sail, out-fight, and out-drink any man on the crew, myself included. I'd watch her from across the deck, laughing at some joke I’d made, and my chest… it felt like it was going to burst."

He spoke of her with a reverence that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. He told them how he'd chased her, a relentless pursuit across islands and oceans, just to catch a moment of her time. He told them of her favorite songs, the way her laughter sounded like bells, and how she'd always choose adventure over comfort.

"I fell in love with her the moment I saw her," Jack continued, his voice softer now. "But she… she was stubborn. Said she had no place for love in her life. Took me ages, but I won her over. Eventually, she agreed to be mine. We were wed on some forgotten shore, with the ocean as our witness. We were a team, a storm and its calm. We were perfect."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he described their life together, the easy companionship, the shared dreams. "We were even going to be three. She was going to have a child," he said, the words catching in his throat.

That's when they noticed it. The past tense. He spoke of her as if she were a memory, a chapter that had closed. The joy that had momentarily lit up his face was now extinguished, replaced by a shadow of unbearable pain.

Jack’s gaze shifted, no longer focused on them, but on something only he could see. His eyes were wide with the horror of a moment replayed a thousand times in his mind. "I saw it happen," he whispered, his voice a raw, jagged sound. "A raid on a port. I was too far away. Just a street's width between us. I was running to her, screaming her name, but the chaos… it was too much."

He stopped, his hand trembling as he brought the bottle to his lips. "I saw him. A rival pirate, a cur I'd crossed years ago. He had a sword, and she was fighting, oh, she was fighting so hard. But he was bigger, faster. I saw the flash of the steel. The sound it made as it went in… I can still hear it. The blade piercing her stomach."

His breath hitched, and a single tear, dark as kohl, traced a path down his cheek. "She stopped fighting. Her eyes found mine across the distance, and I saw her fall. He pulled the sword out of her, and she crumpled to the dirt like a broken doll."

Jack took another shaky swig of rum, the bottle now nearly empty. His hand trembled so violently that he had to set it down on the desk. Elizabeth, her own heart aching with a pain she hadn’t expected to feel for this man, finally broke the silence. "The child, Jack? Was the baby..." Her voice trailed off, unable to complete the dreadful question.

He didn't answer right away. He just stared at the portrait, a single, silent tear tracing a path through the grime and kohl on his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, a desolate ghost of his usual flamboyant tone. "The child was gone, Elizabeth. They both were. The sword... it went straight through her stomach. Her belly... it was already showing a little bit."

The words were like daggers, each one a testament to the agony he had carried for so long. Jack closed his eyes, a pained grimace twisting his features. He remembered the roundness of her belly, the way she would smile at him when she felt the baby kick. A small, perfect hand, a tiny foot, all gone in an instant.

He sank down onto his desk chair, the bravado completely gone, replaced by a profound and raw grief. The silence in the room was deafening, the only sound the gentle rocking of the ship on the waves and the ragged catch of Jack’s breath. Will and Elizabeth watched him, their own expressions a mixture of shock and profound sadness. They had seen Jack fight monsters, outsmart navies, and cheat death itself, but they had never seen him so utterly, completely broken. It was a side of the captain they never could have imagined, a heart shattered into a million pieces.

Will broke the heavy silence, his voice barely a whisper. "How long ago was this, Jack?"

Jack's eyes, red-rimmed and distant, finally focused on the question. He slowly lifted his left hand, the leather glove still covering it. He pulled it back, revealing a simple silver ring on his fourth finger, tarnished with age and sea salt. It was his wedding band.

"Fifteen years," he said, his voice flat, hollow. "Fifteen years, three months, and a handful of days."

He wasn't just counting the years; he was counting every moment that had passed without her. The grief was a physical weight on him, a silent, unseen burden that he carried beneath his layers of flamboyant scarves and bluster. The pirate captain who had defied Davy Jones and outwitted the British Navy was now just a man mourning the love he had lost.

Elizabeth watched him, her heart aching. The pieces of the puzzle were finally clicking into place. The reckless bravado, the constant running, the way he never stayed in one place for too long—it was all a desperate attempt to outrun a past that was forever nipping at his heels. He wasn't just a pirate searching for treasure; he was a man searching for a way to forget, a way to move on from a pain that had become his constant companion.

He looked at the portrait one last time, a small, sad smile on his lips. "We were supposed to have it all, you know," he said, his voice softer now. "A life on the sea, with a little crew of our own. But the sea... she can be a cruel mistress. She took my love, and she left me with nothing but ghosts."

Will, feeling the weight of the moment, reached out and placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but one of profound empathy. "I'm so sorry, Jack," he said, the words heavy with genuine sorrow. Elizabeth, too, stood silent, a lump forming in her throat. The man before them wasn't the swaggering pirate they knew, but a widower, a father who had lost his family before they had a chance to begin.

Jack didn't acknowledge Will's hand. He just continued to stare at the portrait, lost in a world of what-ifs. "She's in every sunrise, every storm," he murmured, more to himself than to them. "The way the light hits the water, the way the wind sings through the rigging... I can still feel her laugh in it."

He finally looked at them, and for the first time, Will and Elizabeth saw the depth of the loneliness that had been Jack's true companion all these years. It wasn't just the loss of a wife; it was the loss of his future, the life he had so carefully imagined and planned. The recklessness, the endless quest for the horizon, the flamboyant persona—it wasn't just a mask; it was a distraction, a desperate attempt to fill the gaping hole in his soul.

"I tried," he said, his voice cracking. "I tried to find him. The man who did it. I tore the seas apart. But he was a ghost, too. Just like her."

The silence that followed was different from the one before. It was no longer filled with questions, but with a quiet understanding. They had stumbled upon a part of Jack Sparrow that no one else had ever seen, a secret kept buried beneath layers of rum, sarcasm, and adventure. He had let them into his chamber, and into a chamber of his heart he had long kept locked. And in that moment, in the dim light of his cabin, they saw not just Captain Jack Sparrow, the legendary pirate, but a man who had loved and lost everything, and was still trying to find his way back to shore.

꩜ Masterlist

[ginnysgraffiti]

CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW x yn.

jack sparrow type of boyfriend headcanons:

mercurial affection.

jack would swing wildly between being the most attentive, clingy partner imaginable and vanishing for days on end without warning. he’ll drape himself over you on deck, ramble nonsense just to keep your attention, and look wounded if you ignore him. but then — gone. off bartering with smugglers or chasing an obscure legend. when he returns, it’s as if no time has passed, and he expects you to melt right back into his orbit.

romance as trickery.

jack doesn’t woo in conventional ways. he’ll steal something shiny — a coin, a ring, even a governor’s necklace — and slip it into your pocket without you noticing, just to grin later when you find it. his version of a “love letter” might be carved cryptically into driftwood or written on a rum-stained scrap of map. he wants you to puzzle through it, to be as entertained by the chase as he is.

jealous in the oddest ways.

he doesn’t get jealous in straightforward “stay away from them” fashion. instead, he’ll get pettily competitive. if someone compliments your dress, jack will swagger in and brag about the fabric being “utterly inferior to the one i’ve seen her in when she— well, never mind that.” he’ll mutter nonsense, play up his own importance, exaggerate his tales until he feels he’s reclaimed your attention.

intimacy cloaked in humor.

jack masks genuine vulnerability with jokes. if he touches your face gently after a kiss, he’ll immediately undercut it with something absurd like, “don’t go falling for me now, luv. dangerous habit.” but his eyes linger a fraction too long, betraying more than his mouth ever will. his rare sincerity arrives in stolen midnight moments, whispered when you’re half-asleep and he thinks you won’t remember.

chaotic protector.

jack is not the boyfriend who wins a duel honorably for you. he’s the one who’ll throw sand in an opponent’s eyes, set off a powder keg, or trick an entire crew into chasing a decoy ship while you slip away safe. his protection is never straightforward, but it’s clever, cunning, and bizarrely reliable. if you’re his, he will keep you breathing, even if he has to set the entire caribbean aflame to do it.

obsessive storytelling.

when drunk (which is often), jack talks about you constantly. to gibbs, to random tavern-goers, to people who weren’t even listening. it’s never simple — he’ll exaggerate wildly, retelling mundane moments as if they were legendary epics. “and then, you see, she gave me a look — the kind of look you’d cross the seven seas for, savvy?” people roll their eyes, but jack is oblivious.

ritualistic superstition about you.

jack would keep odd little tokens of you — a ribbon, a dropped button, a seashell you once picked up — and treat them as charms. he’ll rub them before a gamble, press them against his lips before a storm, mutter about how you’re his “lucky star, his talisman.” he’ll never admit outright how much he depends on them (and you), but it seeps through his every gesture.

affection is physical, but erratic.

he’s all hands — pulling you into his lap without warning, tangling fingers in your hair, wrapping himself around you like an octopus when drunk. sometimes, though, he’ll recoil, disappear below deck, unable to face how much he craves closeness. later, he’ll come back, acting as if nothing happened, maybe tossing a sarcastic “miss me?”

love as freedom, not chains.

jack would never say “i own you” or try to tie you down. in fact, the idea terrifies him. his love manifests as wanting you to choose him, every time, out of your own free will. he won’t keep you locked up; instead, he’ll hand you a compass and grin, asking, “where to, darling?” he believes the real proof of your bond is that despite all options, you still come back to him.

jack sparrow: long-term / domestic boyfriend headcanons

sharing a cabin is chaos.

living with jack means never knowing where anything is. his clothes are scattered between your things, half his trinkets are hidden in your drawers, and the bed smells faintly of salt, rum, and cloves. he has no sense of order, but he somehow knows exactly where every “important” item is (his compass, your necklace, a pouch of coins he swears multiplies when left alone). he gets genuinely irritated if you “tidy up” and disrupt his strange system.

morning rituals.

jack is not a morning person. expect him to sprawl across the bed, arms and legs wrapped around you like you’re his anchor, grumbling whenever you try to get up. he’ll mumble half-asleep nonsense — sometimes pirate strategy, sometimes slurred sweet nothings. he only stirs once the ship really wakes, and even then he prefers if you bring him a drink before he faces daylight.

arguments are theatrical.

jack doesn’t argue quietly. he waves his hands, paces, throws in words like “preposterous” and “utterly unreasonable.” he’ll rant dramatically about being misunderstood, then suddenly crack a joke in the middle of it to disarm you. he hates the idea of you being angry with him for long, so he’ll circle back after a blow-up, calmer, with some roundabout apology like, “what i meant, luv, was that you’re always right, except when you’re not, which is rare, and that’s why i keep you, savvy?”

intimacy quirks.

jack is tactile to an almost annoying degree. when sober, he’ll stroke your hair absentmindedly while plotting maps, or run his thumb over your knuckles mid-conversation. when drunk, he gets clingier — head on your lap, arms slung around you in public, lazy kisses on your neck. he doesn’t say “i love you” outright often, but his touches say it for him.

unexpected competence.

beneath the chaos, jack can actually be incredibly capable in small domestic ways. he knows how to patch sails, mend clothing with rough stitches, cook something edible from near-nothing. sometimes he’ll surprise you by doing something thoughtful — leaving a plate of food by your side, or repairing a trinket of yours without telling you, only for you to stumble across it later.

jealous habits at home.

even in private, jack gets competitive if you seem too enchanted by someone else’s story, even if it’s just in a book. he’ll interrupt with “ah, but did i ever tell you about the time i escaped the cannibals with only a spoon and a coconut?” until you laugh and look at him again. attention is his addiction, and you are his favorite supplier.

his idea of comfort.

jack doesn’t really “do” traditional comfort — he’ll never sit down and give a tidy pep talk. instead, he’ll pour you a drink, pull you into his side, and ramble on about something utterly irrelevant until you’re laughing. his way of making you feel safe is distraction, humor, and pulling you into his world of chaos so you don’t feel weighed down by your own.

nighttime closeness.

jack sleeps like he lives: erratic. sometimes sprawled face-down, hogging all the sheets. sometimes curled around you so tightly it’s impossible to move. sometimes wandering the deck at 3am only to sneak back in, smelling like sea wind and muttering a story as he drifts back off. but without fail, if he wakes up and you’re not beside him, he’ll get up and find you — restless until you’re back within reach.

loyalty beneath the chaos.

for all his vices, jack doesn’t cheat when he’s truly attached, even drunk. he might flirt, because it’s in his blood, but when you call him out he’ll grin and say, “ah, but notice, darling, how i never follow through. only one person gets the full performance.” and he means it. if you’re his, you’re stitched into his story, his compass needle points back to you no matter how often it spins. “you’re prettier anyway, the prettiest the seven seas ever had.”

the future, in his terms.

jack avoids talking about “settling down” in the traditional sense. he won’t ever say he wants to build a house or stay in one port. instead, his future with you looks like freedom: always having you at his side on deck, new ports, new stories, your laughter echoing louder than the sea. to him, that’s the most permanent, devoted kind of love — one that moves, survives, and sails forward.

[marvelobsessed134]

Pleasuring the captain

Pairings: Jack Sparrow x Fem!Reader

A/n: I attempted to get the dialogue right, trying not to make it too modern. If it’s cringe, I’m sorry.

Warnings: Smut, reader becomes a sex slave (only to Jack), praise kink, dom!jack, sub!reader, unprotected sex, mentions of rape, 18+ only mdni

Jack understandably was not patient with people who were in debt to him. Some people think they can escape him, get out of paying. But the captain always finds them. He doesn’t even have to try most of the time!

Just like now, you found yourself on Tortuga. You had hitched a ride on a ship of filthy pirates, something you shouldn’t be used to do doing but, here you are. The island was the place to go for anyone who knew about it. Party central, full of life and, of course, rum.

Drunkenly you ran around the island holding a half empty bottle of rum, which you may or may not had stolen from a pub, when you ran into none other than Captain Jack Sparrow.

Your eyes widened looking up at the pirate who looked the same (and, honestly, handsome-as ever). The brunette was shocked too, his kohl lined eyes looking down at you in shock. Then a sly smile spread across his face, “Well, well what we have here?”

You didn’t know how to respond, it’s not like you could say ‘Wow! Nice to see ya again Captain!’ so you attempted to make a run of it. And while Jack Sparrow was always known to be quite…unstable, he was quick to grab ahold of your arm.

“Ah, lass. You’re still in debt to me.” He whispered, his accent pronounced and voice raspy.

You gulped, “What is it you want, Captain? Money? Rum?”

The pirate had a thoughtful expression, “Rum would be nice…yes…but, only a bottle of rum for saving your life?”

You sighed, remembering why you were in debt with the captain in the first place. Once you had fallen off a tall balcony into the ocean below. You did not know how to swim at the time, and almost drowned. Till Jack swooped in and rescued you.

“You’re right…you know I’m eternally grateful for that…you could’ve just had let me die.”

“Aye, but I didn’t, lass. The world would be much worse without a beauty like you gone.” You couldn’t help but blush.

“So…how is it you want me to pay?”

A smirk spread across his face.

And you found yourself upon the Black Pearl, mopping, cooking, being eye candy for the crew members. Anamaria, who was the only female on board other than you, even participated in the lustful ogling. Turns out pirates will always be pirates no matter their gender.

None of the men had raped you like you assumed. If anything, it seemed as if they were afraid to get too close to you. The only one who got in close contact with you was Jack himself.

And he always called you into his quarters at night. Something you began getting used to. The captain was a man, after all, and he most certainly took advantage of the fact he had a pretty female slave on board. The pirate was possessive, though. No other crew member was to touch you.

One particularly rainy night you made your way into his quarters. He was already spread out on the couch-one he’d somehow stolen from Governor Swann’s house-and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. Jack was handsome, no doubt that.

“Come here, lass. Let me see ya.” His deep voice and accent always made you weak. You made your way over to him and sat on his lap. His cock was pushing against his pants, threatening to be released.

The cold sensation of his rings flooded your body as he moved his hands up your skirt, kissing you passionately. The captain had always made sure his breath was up to par, he wasn’t that indecent.

Soon enough your dress was on the ground along with your undergarments, your nipples pebbling against the cold air. You jerked his cock off, stroking it slowly at a steady pace while he bit and sucked on your nipples.

Throwing your head back, you moaned. You had begun grinding your pussy on his thigh, desperate for friction.

“Come’er. Lots of better things you could do with that little cunt.” Jack rasped. You didn’t have to be told twice as you straddled him completely, his tip brushing against your clit making you hiss. Slowly, you sunk down on his fat cock, eyes rolling back in your head as you got filled by your owner captain.

“That’s it lass, so fuckin’ good.” The brunette moaned, gripping your hips as you bounced up and down on his lap. One of his hands snuck down to rub your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Oh fuck, captain!” You cried, feeling the coil inside you begin to tighten, tears springing in your eyes. He always managed to make you feel so good. Which was why you hadn’t necessarily complained about your predicament a week after being on the ship.

The captain’s mouth went right back to your nipples, biting and sucking on the sensitive flesh. Soon enough, you found yourself clenching around his dick, at the brink of orgasm. Just as you came, Jack pulled out just in time to finish on your lower stomach.

You leaned down to kiss him again, threading your fingers through his locs.

“Maybe next time I’ll have you wear me hat.” He said causing you to laugh.

[sarahisslytherin]

silver and gold.

jack sparrow x reader

summary: you and jack make a friendly wager as to whether you can fend for yourself at tortuga, and you would be damned before you let jack sparrow lighten your pockets.

contains: fem!reader, talk of sex and violence, alcohol, creepy men being creepy, an attempt of SA, weapons (fluffy ending though!)

a/n: had the time of my life writing this omg. she is everything i wanted her to be. gif by @moretolose

word count: 2.2k

Tortuga was no place for the faint of heart. From the moment you’d stepped off The Black Pearl onto the putrid dock, you sensed your stomach turn with disgust. Jack had warned you, had played with the delicate tendrils of your hair as he boyishly mimicked your gentle manner of speech and assured you a lovely thing like you wouldn’t last an hour on the island. His lack of faith had irked you so that you’d ended up wagering two shillings to the contrary. However, now that the stench of ale and rum and gratuitous debauchery had begun to cling to your waistcoat, your confidence was quickly wavering. You heard his graceless steps fall behind you before you saw him, felt the warmth of his dirty hand as it curled over your shoulder.

“How’s my bonnie lass? Goodness, you look awfully pale!” He frowned as if he were part of some cheap travelling theater company. You rolled your eyes, making quick work of removing his hand finger by finger.

“Don’t you have some tavern to drink yourself away in?” You suggested, a sarcastic grin plastered upon your face. 

“Indeed I do, but I must admit the rum tastes better with a touch of feminine company.” Jack smiled, and for a moment, it almost seemed genuine.

“I’m sure you can get some harlot or other to oblige.” You offered gingerly, letting your hand come up to graze Jack’s chin. He wasted no time enveloping it with his own, and suddenly the grime that coated all pirates’ hands didn’t seem to bother you as much.

“Well, yes, but you’re much, much prettier to look at.” He jested, baring his teeth in what you could only suppose was a laughable attempt at seduction. You wouldn’t give yourself even a second to think about it, but something about the thought of Jack with one of those rouge-lipped harlots sent your hand flying back to your side.

“I suppose you’ll just have to make do.” You sneered at him as you walked off further into the belly of the beast. “Don’t drink away all your money, Sparrow! I’ll be expecting my pay the moment we get off this blasted island!”

His laugh followed you like the soft ring of a windchime. But charming as the scoundrel was, you would be damned before you let Jack Sparrow lighten your pockets.

The bar you stumbled into was brimming with drunken pirates and wenches, the air thick with the overwhelming scent of sweat and alcohol. You wove your way through the riotous crowd and promptly perched yourself on a seat by the bar. You ordered a cider as you seldom ever drank. Better to keep your wits about you, you’d always say. Jack often teased you for it, calling you a no-fun Puritan before staggering away in search of more rum. You quickly caught yourself, focusing your attention on the glass being slid to you across the mahogany counter. Why were you thinking of Jack again? You shook your head, slowly but surely sipping your drink as you took in the scene around you. 

The barkeep was flushed, working as quick as he could to satiate the beasts howling at him, but no matter his efforts, it seemed by the time he was serving one drink about five more filthy pirates had ordered more. There was a bard in the far corner, his silky voice severely drowned out by the clamor. Harlots’ extravagant laughs rang like bells throughout the whole place as they danced and slid from lap to lap. You knew they were forced, though. You hadn’t met a single pirate whose jokes had ever made you laugh in earnest. Well, except for Jack. 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing?” Slurred a gravelly voice that came from far too close. You swivelled in your seat to meet the man’s gaze. He was covered head to toe in grime, his clothes tattered and torn. He seemed to be a good twenty years your senior, and his hair had thinned with age and poor maintenance. He stunk of alcohol and if his sleazy smirk was any indication he had had far too much of it already. He disgusted you. “Far too pretty for this place, I’ll tell ya that much.”

You offered him a curt smile. “Thank you.” You looked away now, hoping he would note your disinterest and soon let up. But you only felt him grow closer.

“I ought to steal you away for meselves, don’t ya think?” A hand snaked around your waist and you felt your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach. Jack had taught you many things over the last few months; how to shoot, how to properly use a dagger and a sword, how to chart a course on a map based on nothing but the stars in the black night sky, but the one thing he hadn’t taught you was how to stare down the barrel of your worst fears and not cower before them.

Despite your silver tongue and training, you found yourself stiff as a statue. Entirely and utterly frozen. Not only that, but you suddenly felt dizzy, overwhelmingly so. Yes, the room was spinning. Your vision was tunnelling. “Thought that flat cider you asked for wouldn’t do the job, you see?” The wretch whispered in your ear. You could hear the wicked grin in his voice. “Couldn’t help myself from slipping a little somethin’ in there to loosen you up.”

And then it all went black.

“And very bad eggs!” You shouted the end of the drinking song, earning applause from the whole bar. The pirate whose lap you were currently sitting on, whose face did not ring one solitary bell, cheered you on as he took another swig of ale. His friends seemed to be in equally good spirits, ogling you as if you were precious treasure they simply needed to get their hands on. You weren’t sure how you’d ended up here but from the looks of it, night had fallen outside the mucky window panes. You also weren’t sure how long you’d been singing, though your throat had started to burn. The scotch the men kept handing you didn’t do much to help this last. You scanned the crowd. New faces from when you last remembered looking. But there by the bar, looking cross as he threw back a bottle of rum, you knew that face. 

“Jack? His name left your lips of its own accord.

“Not my name, love, but I’ll let it slide this time!” The pirate holding you guffawed, and suddenly that giddy, floating-on-air feeling slowly began to wear off. The pirates’ faces became clearer, the intention behind their words as well. These were no friends of yours! What were you even doing here? Your eyes flew back to Jack, who kept an eye on you from a safe distance. His ring-adorned knuckles dug into the neck of the rum bottle with barely contained fury. His jaw was clenched, his teeth grinding. All the while he glared daggers at the man whose hand was still wrapped around your torso. 

“Oi, what’re ya lookin’ at?” The man in question squeezed you tighter, pulling your attention away from Jack. He was clearly displeased, his sweaty brow furrowed as if your wandering eye had embarrassed him. “What, you’d rather run off with that fellow over there, would ya?”

You wanted nothing more than to escape his clutch, but you had to be smart about it. “No, of course not!” You offered him your most flirtatious smirk. “I was just looking to see where the ladies’ room was, is all.” At this, his eyes softened a tad, much to your relief. You needed to get out of here. You looked over to the bar once more, but this time Jack was gone.

“Ah, well, don’t take long, poppet!” He hollered as he released you at last and you were able to stand. “I ain’t done with you yet!” You offered him your best fake laugh, though you weren’t nearly as convincing as the harlots from earlier. You hovered a moment, making sure you got lost in the crowd and that the wretched pirate was out of sight before you ran for the door. Sure enough, outside the sky was nearly black, the clouds overhead lit by the moon. You had to get back to The Pearl. A brilliant plan except for the fact that it was dark, you were still in the process of sobering up and that you could barely remember your name, let alone how you got to this godforsaken tavern in the first place. Your chest was already heaving with anxiety by the time you heard the doors swing open and realized you were no longer alone.

“Going somewhere, poppet?” The grating voice sounded once again. “You’re a dirty little liar, aren’t ya? Said you was goin’ to the privy but you was just plannin’ to make a run for it.”

There it was again. That feeling of helplessness that you just couldn’t shake. Jack was right, you were stupid to even think you could face the dangers of a pirate’s world alone and make it out alive. You wondered if he was already on The Pearl, a bottle in one hand and a girl in the other as he left you for dead the way any sane pirate would. But you didn’t wonder long as his voice pierced the tension-thick air like it was nothing.

“She won’t have to be running anywhere, mate.” He cooed. “Matter of fact, she’ll have time to stroll at whichever pace she pleases given that you lot’ll wind up dead if you so much as try and stop her. Savvy?” 

You turned in time with the men, behind whom stood Jack, bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight and pistol in hand. 

“Well, if it isn’t the famous Jack Sparrow.” One of the pirates growled.

“Captain.” Both you and Jack corrected him in sync, and through the sea of strangers your eyes found each other. They wasted no time crowding him, and suddenly you had been conveniently forgotten. That was when he silently mouthed the word to you. “Run!” And for the first time since you’d met Jack Sparrow, you followed his order without question. 

Shots fired as you ran, your feet kicking up sand with each frantic stride towards the sea. You didn’t look back and only could pray it was Jack’s pistol you heard growing fainter in the distance. 

The sun had begun to rise, its rays dancing off the waves as it peered over the horizon. The starry night sky had become streaked with shades of pink and yellow. It would have been a lovely sight to behold if you weren’t worried sick over Jack. It hadn’t been long since you’d reached the shore, but you were sure he would’ve been here by now. That is, if he wasn’t…

“What are we looking at?” Jack asked over your shoulder as he came to stand by your side. You startled for a moment, a girlish shriek escaping you and earning a smug grin from Jack. “I know I don’t look my best, love, but surely I’m not that frightening, hm?”

“Oh, Jack!” You cried, throwing caution and appearances to the wind as you practically leapt into his arms. You could tell he was taken aback by your sudden display of affection, yet he was quick to catch you as your legs wrapped around him and your nose nuzzled fondly against his neck. “I thought you were dead!”

“No, very much alive, I think. Sorry to disappoint.” He stuttered as he reluctantly set you back down, your boots digging into the freshly wet sand. He combed a hand through a lock of your hair as he inspected you, as if searching for any sign of harm. “And thanks to me, so are you.”

“Jack, it was terrible!” You groaned, pressing a palm against your temple. 

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself for the most part.” He muttered as he cast his gaze towards the horizon, suddenly becoming rather cold.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean you seemed to be having a good time dancing on tables and sitting in strangers’ laps is all.” He said, his words clipped with what you could clearly tell now was jealousy.

“I was drunk!” You defended yourself.

“Oh, you know you don’t drink!” Jack retorted, offended you’d taken him for a fool.

“They slipped something into my cider, Jack.” You admitted sheepishly. Some job you did at taking care of yourself. “It’s a miracle singing and dancing was all that happened before the effects wore off.”

Jack’s irritation suddenly melted away and he silently cursed himself for having been so blind. “It’s my own fault for letting you out of my sight for more than five minutes.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “I guess you won that wager, didn’t you?”

“Aye, but at what cost?” He grinned, his gold tooth glinting in the sunlight. “Silver and gold isn’t worth much to me if something happens to you.”

“Oh?” You teased him, your bodies coming closer together as if tangled together by some invisible string. You’d never been this close to him before. He smelt of the salt spray of the sea, of rum and of dusty old treasure maps. “The mighty Captain Jack Sparrow hasn’t grown soft, now has he?”

“Only where you’re concerned.” He finally admitted. “Now shut up and kiss me.” And for the second time since you’d met Jack Sparrow, you followed his order without question.

tagging: @oweninadaydream @velvetcloxds @sheraayasher @dragonsfictavern @spxllcxstxr @legallyagraverobber @user-not-found-error001 @lapserdakk @artistichisui @taco-pieman @foralwaysandforever @peace-love-oldies @pirates-obsession @calpalsbestie @paradiseislostbaby

[drugs-and-daddyissues]

𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐘

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 After sneaking out of your manor, you stumble into a bar, looking for the attention of a rough and ragged man. There, you meet Jack Sparrow, who shows you all the ropes - literally and figuratively.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 explicit content, P in V sex, implied age gap, bondage, utterly nasty rough sex (spanking, hair pulling,etc.), slightly mean Jack Sparrow, semi public sex

𝐖𝐂 1.6k

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 Jack Sparrow x f! reader

The sun had just set on the horizon, and your maid had undone you from your horrid corseted dress of the day, and slipped into a comfortable cotton night gown.

You groaned under your breath, waiting for the hallway outside your room to quiet before you crawled out of bed and changed into a simple dusty blue velvet dress. Glancing once again at your bedroom before climbing out of your window.

You wandered down the dimly lit street, before finding yourself drawn to a bar. Loud commotion came from the inside, and you pushed your way through the door. The people here certainly weren't the proper men you were used to, and it brought a bit of relief to you.

You took a seat on one of the stools at the bar top, before observing around. From across the bar, a mid 40s man with long brown dreadlocks caught eyes with you. He smirked, showing off a few gold teeth before he sauntered over to you, sliding into the seat next to yours.

"Never seen you 'round here before. I'd remember a darling face like yers." He hummed, leaning closer to you. He smelt overwhelming of rum.

"Guess you could consider me a newcomer." You replied, not giving away much on your face as you studied him more closely. He had tan skin— one that seemed to be from hours in the sun rather than natural color, black eyeliner rimming his brown eyes, and muscular arms (or at least from what you could tell).

"Newcomer, eh?" He smirked, a flash of mischievous on his lips. "Say.. How 'bout you and me have a deal, lovie. You and me get outta here, and I show you around my ship." He hummed, leaning closer.

The men here were vultures, and he'd be damned if he let some other man get his hands on you first..

"Doesn't sound sketchy at all." You said, matching his smirk with your own. You'd wanted something new, didn't you? "I suppose I'll let you take me for a joyride." You whispered, leaning even closer, crawling your fingers up along his arm.

"Careful with your words, dove. I may take you up on that." He warned, a glint of hunger in his eyes. He was starving, and you were like a juicy piece of meat. Nonetheless, he moved you out of the bar without anyone knowing, and led you to his ship by keeping a hand on your wrist.

His ship was bigger than you expected it to be— not as grand as the British Naval ships you were used to, but still impressive. It looked to be maybe a kind of cargo ship, but you couldn't be too sure.

"Your captain let you bring ladies here alone?" You asked as he let you aboard, now standing on the deck.

"Darling, I am the captain. I can do as I please." He swaggered, practically dragging you up to the helm.

The ship overlooked the sea, sparkling with the moonlight. It was a sight you saw often, but not from this angle, and definitely never this

"You look impressed." He simply stated, letting you lean on the railing in front of you. He came up behind you, his body heat radiating onto you, yet he didn't press himself to you fully. All he did was place his hands on your hips.

"I've never been this close." You admitted, looking over your shoulder at him. The way his eyes smoldered had heat burning in your lower gut.

"To what? The sea?" He asked with a hum, relishing in your heightened senses. He brushed your hair to your back, pushed the neckline of your dress to the side to expose your shoulder, and planted a dirty kiss and a nip there.

"To adventure, experience." You shivered at his teeth on your skin, sending another spark of arousal to your undergarments.

"If it's adventure you want, love, I could take you on one... You just need to give me the permission to do whatever I want to you." He whispered dirty in your ear, his hand trailing up to find your throat.

You shouldn't, but oh, he was so convincing. "Yes.." You said breathlessly, pressing back into him.

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into." He growled, not wasting anytime in unlacing your dress. "Strip. Let me see you." He ordered, and you could see why he was the captain.

Being just as eager as him, you bared yourself down to your knickers, feeling awfully exposed.

"Such a beauty.." He murmured, teasingly running his rough hands along your skin as he pushed you to bend over the helm.

You fully whined at his words, feeling his phantom touch as he pulled away. He didn't let you see, but you could hear— something being pulled along the wood of the deck until you felt it. Ropes, tough ones that the navy used on their ships. You were surprised at how delicately the captain wrapped it around your body— over your breasts, your ribs, tying your hands together until you were fully at his mercy, and he held the other end of the rope like a leash.

"You could moan as loud as you want, dove, but nobody's here to hear it. Right now I own this pussy. Say it. Say 'Captain Jack Sparrow owns my pussy'." He commanded, pulling on the ropes, making you clench in arousal.

"C-Captain Jack Sparrow owns my pussy.." You repeated, flushing with embarrassment.

He chuckled darkly when you heard the undoing of pants, hearing it clatter to the floor with his gear. "Are ye sure about this, love? Because once I start.. I'm not stopping til I get me fill." He whispered into your ear, a rasp that had you tingling.

"Yes.." You whimpered, pointing your bare ass up a bit higher, as if presenting it for him.

He gave you one harsh spank before he spread your ass cheeks apart, rubbing his head along your leaking hole. With no warning, he pushed all the way in, filling you to the hilt with a sinful groan.

You stuttered moans and incoherent screams as he began pounding you. He was so deep, deeper than your fingers have ever gone, deeper than you thought was possible.

"Fuck.. It feels so good, Captain." You whined, making him pull your hair back into a ponytail, using it for leverage as he rutted his hips into you.

"You're pathetic." He laughed cruelly, roughing up his thrusts. "Pussy squeezing me so tight.. Ye were just waiting for this, huh? Ye wanted ol' Jack to take control of this cunt." He groaned, head tilted back as he began to lose control. "Yer gonna see what happens to sirens like you.."

You felt your toes curling as he hit that soft spot inside you over and over again, bringing you impossibly close to the edge. You couldn't do anything but fuck back on him with the limited mobility that you had. "Please.." You begged, though you didn't quite know what you were begging for.

"Please what?" He cooed, snapping his hips against your flesh harder to punish your inability to speak properly.

"Please let me cum! Please Captain!" You mewled out, unable to stop his title from ripping through your throat. You felt your pulse racing underneath your skin, as you felt the pleasure coil tightly within your pussy.

He hummed, as if contemplating it, but he didn't stop his brutal pace that he'd set. "Go ahead." He purred, his voice sounding like poisonous honey— tantalizing, sweet, but an edge of danger and caution. He curled the rope that you were bound with around his palm, while his other hand spread your ass to give him a proper view. "Let me see you cream on my cock." He growled, primal in his need.

You stuttered before breaking, crying out his name along with obscene sounds like a harlot. It wasn't long before you felt Jack spill inside you, his milky white substance feeling warm inside you.

He gave you a few more shallow thrusts, your combined arousal making a wet squelching noise, before dropping the rope.

You heard him chuckle behind you— low, rough, and exhausted. "I underestimated ye, love." He hummed, pulling up his own trousers despite the fact that he left you bare and still bound by rope that dug into your delicate skin.

"Are you just going to leave me like this??" You asked while trying your hardest not to roll your eyes. The cold of the night was starting to bite at you now that you weren't being fucked within inches of your life.

"Enjoying the view." He hummed. "You look so pretty with my cum dripping down yer cunt. But I suppose I could cut you free, since I'm feeling oh so generous." He teased before his hands moved to undo your restraints with practiced precision.

Once you were set free, you quickly pulled your clothes on, before you felt the weight of his heavy jacket around your shoulders. "Leaving so soon, love?" He asked with a smirk on his face. "I haven't even offered you a swig of me rum."

You sighed, knowing you couldn't fight him on this. "Yeah, okay. I'll stay for rum." You sighed, walking back with him to his quarters on the ship.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

┆𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓┆

🩷 taglist: @amy-fontaine @littlerobbinphantomhive19 @needz1nk @kittenlittle24 @ghsttk @lefroggie @johnnyfreakingdepp @carmenred28 @lovesickforhim @aelizreal @angythequeen @scissorhandsvampire @multifandomgirl08 @diggjuf @shatteredsoulsandbones @macabre-siren Thank you for your support! 🩷

𝐀/𝐍: I'm so sorry that I've been gone for so long 😭 I got a bunch of stuff in the drafts that I'm working on, so that'll come whenever they come..

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