The Taste Of Death
Jack Goodman X Reader smut
WARNINGS: this has literal cannibalism in it, please do not read if you don’t yearn with your mouth. PIV sex, creampie, oral sex (reader receiving), mention of birth control.
A cold gust of wind brushes against your bare leg. The skin ripples slowly, like your body isnt used to being put in a situation where it has to heat itself and has since forgotten basic function. However if your body had decided to ignore you, you couldn’t quite tell because your mind was beyond comparison in terms of being vacant.
You received a phone call from Jack’s mother, informing you of your friend’s death across the sea. Her voice trembled and she practically sobbed as she told you of how horrible of a condition he was in and how David was a suspect in his murder. You should’ve been sad, but all you felt was disbelief; like you expected Jack to start laughing on the other end of the line before asking if you’d like to grab dinner with him (and David, of course, always David). You wish you cried, that you joined his mother in her quivering voice and choked sobs; instead, all you could do was think of how little of this she would share if she wasn’t so deeply disturbed and upset.
You went to Jack’s funeral, and discovered early on that you’d be waiting awhile to actually see him because everyone else who hadn’t given a shit in the past years decided to make up for it today. One of his exes showed up with her new boyfriend but started sobbing violently as she began to give a loud speech about how good of a man he was. As she spoke, you imagined Jack rolling over in his grave; or at this point, coffin; at her tears. “Wasn’t good enough for you to keep your pants on when Mark showed up!” You imagined him saying.
What stood out the most was the fact his casket was closed. Which only solidified your denial in Jack’s death. How out of place you seemed, staring down at the chiseled oak with a glare like you were expecting him to pop out and scare you like he did at a Halloween party years prior. Something even more ghastly was that you didn’t even think there was a body in there.
Weeks later you still hadn’t accepted that he died. You still consoled his mother and spoke with her often, you weren’t a complete lamb. David had yet to call, he was probably suffering a lot more than you were with your apathy or he was still comatose.
Once again the wind started to blow on through again and it finally caused you to shiver and begrudgingly trod to the window. As you neared, you heard the undeniable whisper of the leaves as they rustled and gently tapped the sides of the house. The outside was hardly visible, illuminated by the full moon and it left a cascading deep blue over the rest of the world.
You stared outside for a moment longer, letting the cool air curl around you and leave gooseflesh with every kiss upon your skin. The moonlight seems to bless you every moment you sit in its presence, the soft light bears white brightness among the clouds and entrances you in a way it never has before.
“Long time no see” a voice rings out from behind you.
Now you understand why.
As you turn around, there stands Jack Goodman in (what's left of) the flesh and before you can even think of it, you’re loudly exclaiming “Jesus Christ!” Before scurrying to your bed and balling up the covers as you try to shun away whatever you’re seeing by covering your eyes. “No, Jack, remember? God have you gone completely off your rocker since you’ve last seen me?”
You don’t dare remove the covers from your eyes, and you don’t have to. The springs of your mattress ache with weight and a gentle hand pulls it back. The fright sets a warm fire deep in your stomach.
Nonetheless, there he is, Jack Goodman. One of your best friends, completely mauled and looking at you with a smile as the grotesque chunks of flesh that's covered in a deep cherry red glisten under the light. In a macabre way, it makes your mouth water.
Jack looks at you for a moment before waving his hand in front of your face and snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. “You there? Oh god, you’re in shock; David’s gonna kill me again” he snickers at his own awful joke.
As you come back to earth, Jack gives you the rundown of what’s happened so far. While he speaks, you focus on what he’s wearing. The green puffer jacket that had been doused in your scent the night before because Jack “forgot you used it as a pillow case”; that statement is another one David did not buy and consistently gave him shit for the chick repellent as they rode on the back of a shepherd's truck.
“How I ended up back here, I’m not sure, not that I’m complaining about being in these sheets again” he flirts as he smiles at you, deep and round eyes looking directly into yours with something raw behind it all the pleasantry. You and Jack had slept together, he was as sweet as a friend with benefits could be.
“I think I’m going crazy” you say aloud and he titters before propping his leg up on your bed and resting his head on it sideways; leaving the bloody, mangled, and mutilated part of his skin open and hot against the air.
Jack catches your gaze and seems unable to resist the comment that comes from his mouth. “No fucking way” he laughs. You back yourself up against the headboard and pull your comforter with you, holding it defensively to your mouth and you give a startled look that quickly turns to anger. “What?” You snap out, a lot higher pitched than you wanted to, that made you sound more like someone caught with a porno mag and less like you were genuinely confused.
The look he gives you is a recognizable one, but it feels so alien at the same time. He starts to gently crawl towards you on all fours, in a way he knows you like to see. Feigning that innocence to how you feel just to hear you say it out loud because he mocks you even in death.
“Now, you wouldn’t be feeling a little turned on about how battered I am now would you, sweetness?” He asks, as irreproachable as possible while the pet name sticks to you despite how mockingly he says it. When you’re left gawking, he only gets closer to your face. “Because” pause. He drags one hand up across your covered leg. “If this was the face you wanted all along, I would’ve requested open casket”
Jack gets scarily close. So much so you can now make out minute details. His hair is slicked stiff with blood and sweat, black tufts of hair poke out messily. He smells of grass and mud, but only faintly; what stands out the most is the pheromones reeking off of him that would typically reek, but currently have you biting the inner skin of your bottom lip as the fingers of his left hand dance curiously across your knee.
His fingers have blood crusted under the nails and you sit there entranced by the carnal beauty of it all. Jack smiles to himself and takes it as an opportunity to trace your lips with his calloused fingers. Typically, he’d be a blushing mess and if he were still completely alive he’d never be so bold with someone.
Only difference this time is that he wasn’t alive, not fully; and that it was you. The amount of times he’d been almost caught with you on him has surpassed his count, and sure as hell yours. However the word almost really means David and when it comes to David, he’s got an amateur sleuth mindset and can unfortunately piece two and two together.
Unthinking, you open your mouth and feel as Jack pushes his index and middle finger over your tongue. Your tongue swirls around the pads of his fingers, feeling every ridge, scar and delta. A gummy clot of blood that was caught in the corner of his cuticle touches your tongue and you suck even harder.
Jack’s eyes become lidded, he looks at a random spot in your direction for a few moments, feeling the work of your mouth against his hands once again and in such a grisly manner makes his stomach burn.
Softly he pulls his fingers away from your mouth. He rests his hands on either side of you and puts his mouth close to your ear. “How about you shut the light off and we try that thing you’ll deny wanting to do” he whispers before he bites and tugs on the lobe of your ear before pulling away.
You push the blanket off of you, the plush of your thighs visible to Jack as you walk towards the light switch.
When the darkness floods the room, you’re left in wait for Jack, just as you were in life. When nothing happens for a few seconds you think you’ve gone crazy and you’re too afraid to turn around and see that he’s really not there.
The beautiful blue hue of the moon sets over your shoulders and the cool air brushes against your neck. The hairs prick up as the cool feeling leaves ghosts of kisses against your skin.
“Still here” Jack says quietly against the shell of your ear. You turn around to face him and he flicks the light on again, temporarily blinding you. “ M’ sorry” he says as his kisses become full and wet mouthed against your neck “changed my mind, jus’ wanted to see you walk away”
He buries himself there and you feel him smile before his teeth graze against you. The blood gushing from his wounds starts to slick your neck. This doesn’t stop him, he kisses and nips harshly on your veins and feels the pulse thrumming beneath it.
It’s like he can’t control himself. There’s something so deeply carnal and vulnerable about how he is now; as many times you’ve put yourself on him, nothing can compare to the sweetness of his blood covered lips against yours.
His teeth are digging deeply into your neck, a small pain blossoming from his teeth nipping at your skin. Your eyes shut and a breathy exhale leaves your lips. Jack smiles, like he always has, into your skin and comes up to give you a kiss. The sweet and metallic taste of his lips on yours leaves you utterly intoxicated like the first taste of absinthe.
If you had to compare it though, he’s much sweeter. And warmer. So much warmer.
Jack’s mouth has suddenly gone away from the short and innocent kisses and have transformed into heavily pressed attacks scattered across anywhere collar up. His skin is comfortingly thermic and at this point you have no choice but to fall back into the dizzying heat as Jack touches you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and it may very well be.
His hands are ever moving and constant. There’s a searing palm resting between your neck and ear. The free hand wanders continuously over your waist to the back of your thigh. Your hands move without your own permission and begin to unzip the green puffer jacket that’s half shredded and half covered in blood.
You hope that if he decides to leave, you can keep the jacket. Even just a piece to remember him by. It was a group purchase around the holidays one year, when David gifted you both an identical jacket similar to his red one. Yours was an absolute eyesore, but the mundane routine of wearing it all the time made the shade entirely your own.
You gently push Jack away from you and get to look in his eyes. You get to see the humanity tucked behind them as his clouded lust quickly turns into the sheepish look of a boy scolded by a schoolmarm. Even though you’re still entranced by just seeing him again after having to say goodbye before Europe and a second time to a piece of wood. Part of you wants to remain this illusioned forever, so that you can hold onto him even if he decided long ago to let go of you; because at this point all you have is a hideous puffer jacket and dinner receipts of a meal you paid for stuffed in your otherwise empty wallet. Suddenly the doe eyes and boyish smile disappear. A misstep.
“Guess kissing a corpse wasn’t on your bucket list, huh?” He chides with an awkward laugh but you know Jack better than that, and he’s being vulnerable. Pressed against the door of your room, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck; careful to leave the wound be, and as he looks at you; you knock your foreheads together and you press a small kiss to his lips and bump noses. “Could’ve gone for that one actor you like so much” you say, another kiss. “I’ll put in a good word for you” kiss.
Jack pushes his mouth closer to you without much thought, and it leads to some of the blood on his neck smearing on your arm. Suddenly the blaze in Jack’s eyes comes back and you grin.
Jack sticks his hand in the wound like it’s as normal as scratching an itch and a small amount of the blood comes onto his fingertip. He cups your face with the same hand, mindful of his bloody thumb. Your eyes dart between the pad of his thumb, that Jack pushes ever closer to your mouth; only waiting for permission to push it through.
There would be no coming back from it and you both know it. Jack has nothing to lose, while you’re teetering on the line between sanity and lunacy. The comparison of Eve and the apple comes to mind; any other lustful sin could be forgiven, but to feast upon the flesh and to consume the marrow of a ghost? Should this be a test from whatever divine figure that hates you enough to manifest your dead fuck buddy, you were bound for damnation surely. Your lips part.
Your mouth sours with saliva before you can truly taste. Then it hits you. The succulent, metallic taste sinks onto your tastebuds and you hope that Jack’s blood remains there until the end of your days. The splotch of scarlet forever stained on your tongue like ink upon papyrus so that any lover you may take after Jack knows they can’t compare because they won’t come this close.
You flick the light out, for good this time, and guide Jack to your bed. He waits patiently as you crawl in first. He waits by the edge with bated breath and glances at the full moon for but a moment. You poke your leg out over the bed and poke him with your foot and he pounces at you. The shirt that was tucked underneath his puffer coat has minimal damage compared to the rest of him. You sit up and drag it off of him and he instead goes for ripping the fabric off like it’s burning him.
You’re doing the same to your own and Jack is immediately kissing on every inch of your skin, there's a desperation that is unlike anything you’ve ever known. After you’ve both wriggled out of every piece of clothing and left slobbering wet kisses across chests and lips you start to get to the most sinful and carnivorous part of the night.
Jack’s pumping himself and whimpering all sorts of filth at you as you kiss around the lines where skin meets meat. “Please, honey, I want you to, I do, c’mon” Just one bite. He needs it, he needs to know he’s good. “You can’t hurt me” he whispers, strained.
Your teeth graze the saccharine flesh before you sink into the hot and dewey meat. Jack’s warmed up intensely, the heat rolling off of him in the moonlight in thick clouds of white. Jack shudders and you begin to let go immediately “Fuck, no, keep going” he says, lowering his neck on you more as his fingers begin to grace around you.
When you fully sink in again, there’s a burst of an unfamiliar flavor that hits you so hard you hope it doesn’t immediately get you hooked and desperate like morphine. You pull and tear and suck upon him but it doesn’t change anything. The difference between the living and the undead is that while you’re aching and getting the relief of Jack’s feast upon your body, wether it be by biting or pumping into your core, Jack is unchanging until time wants him to. You’re glad you were blessed enough to have him presented as you remembered, just a bit more banged up. Deliciously so.
You’re happy you can be close to him again, like this. Nothing else in the world but the two of you. For however long he’s tied to this plane, you want to take advantage of it all and you will greedily keep him here until he’s forced to go. So you bite, you bite and rip and chew like it’s the last way you’ll ever love anyone ever again. You wrap your hands into his hair and dig your nails into his scalp and all he does is smile at you and whisper your name he keeps his pace thrusting inside of you. When you pull away to meet his eyes, the glint of the night rests in his irises.
You imagine you must look like something positively cryptid. His blood smothered across your mouth, a toothy smile in his direction like a fox in a henhouse. He doesn’t say anything, he merely places a kiss on your mouth and breathes heavily across your lips. “ M’ close, honey” he says, as thoughtful as ever, and that’s how you know this has to be real; previous thoughts be damned, werewolves, ghosts, lawyers? All real.
You know this Jack Goodman is yours because even after being mauled to death and abandoned, after having to tell his best friend that he has to die, and after finding himself in your bed again and being accepted with open arms, he still tells you when he’s about to cum.
“I’ll take it as a bereavement gift” you say and he simply rolls his eyes and says “you talk too much” you tug at his pulled apart skin again before falling back into the sheets. Biting your lip and wrapping your legs around his core, you hold Jack’s head as he buries it in your neck and presses his forehead in the nape of your shoulder to watch himself go in and out for a few strokes before he pulls back and kisses you hard. You don’t open your mouth quick enough and your teeth collide painfully for a second and Jack giggles an apology against your lips as he continues his thrusts.
He pushes you back into the pillows with his weight and he moans into your shoulder. The perfect cadence of sound in your ears and after he stills for a moment you can feel the pulse of his cock inside you as he cums.
Ever the overachiever, he pulls out quickly and places his bloodied mouth in between your legs. The blood of his neck laceration rubs slick and loud against your thigh coating every pore and marking.
He puts his mouth on your clit, just like you taught him. He twirls his tongue around and even tries murmuring out something to dirty talk you, but he gets so pussy drunk it’s nearly impossible to hear what he’s saying.
He takes care not to get a mouthful of his own cum, his fingers going at a pace that you can hear even buried in the pillows.
Once again your hands find his hair and you push him deeper into your clit and Jack, always the good boy, obliges and tongue fucks you even harder.
Your legs lock around his head as you cum and he lets out a hum as you do. Your hips snap forward and he rides it out. Once you’ve come down a bit, he presses a few kisses to your thighs before going up to join you.
“Hope birth control covers that”
“Be more surprised if it did, I think”
Jack snickers and lays next to you, fingers trailing up your figure with blankets gathered unevenly around the waist down.
He’s still a human furnace and you eagerly curl up next to him. “Will you be gone tomorrow?” You ask. You expect a melancholy response. “Might go tell David to kill himself, but I’ll be back. Can’t guarantee I’ll be this pretty though” he says.
You just kiss him and close your eyes.