The thought of Jack eating you out after coming inside of u is absolutely plaguing me
Hey there, lovely. I am always for men eating up their mess, yknow. Like??? It should be mandatory. I got a complaint about writing way too long blurbs/thots...so...umm...here 🥺 Sorry
Mess
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Thoughts, Smut, Oral Sex (f receiving), Squirting, Cum Eating
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With sweat dripping down his body—his hair, his temple, his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his pecs, his abdomen, his V-line, and his legs—Jack would be panting, gazing at where you two were connected after what felt like hours of staring and taking in every expression that passed on your beautiful face. He didn't want to pull out.
He never did. Your pussy felt so perfect around his cock. Still quivering. Still clenching. Still making his cock half-hard even after he already came long and hard.
He just wanted to stay inside you forever. How would it be possible to be studied so he could do just that?
"Jack," you sighed, your hand cupping his cheek and guiding him to look at you. "Did you hear me?"
"Huh?" His eyes still glanced down at your connection then back to your eyes. Then he noticed how your hair stuck to your skin, so he softly brushed them away, gasping because the mere contact of his fingers on your skin electrified him. "Did you say something, Princess?"
"Yes. We need to clean up," you murmured, sounding so tired.
Jack finally noticed how damp everything was, and the stench of sex mixed with your sweet and delectable scent. He also marked the wetness dripping down his legs, his cheeks flushing as his lips stretched into an arrogant grin that you huffed. How could he not be arrogant if he managed to make you squirt?
He made you feel good, which made him ecstatic.
"I don't wanna move," he protested when your hand pressed into his shoulder. "Awww, please?"
"No..." Your tone told him otherwise, but your word was always his rule. You didn't need to tell him twice.
He braced himself, taking a deep, deep, deep inhale, shuddering at your squeeze then he pulled out. He couldn't stop his groan. As another wave of pleasure overtook his senses before he was hit with the loss of it. While his knees and forearms turned weak, he basically laid his weight on you, his ears ringing unable to hear your moan. He swore that he blacked out for one second, only rousing at the feel of your harsh breaths and the sting from your nails digging into his shoulders.
"My bad," Jack panted, kissing you before sitting up on his knees. He made a mistake of staring at your quivering pussy, catching an alluring sight of his cum dripping out. His mouth instantly watered, his brain fogging up with the need to—
His brain stuttered when your pussy clenched and more cum came out. Oh, he was fucked. He didn't want to move. He wanted to dive between your legs and eat you out. He needed to do it. He would die if he didn't. How would he propose that idea to you? Would you let him eat you out if you were already so tired? Would that be greedy of him? Like he did push it tonight. Coming load after load into your majestic pussy—
"Jack, yes." You broke through his thoughts. "Whatever you're thinking, my answer is yes."
Your eyes were burning into his. Your teeth bit into your lower lip that had him wanting to kiss you again. However, he was frozen, his body taut with the energy to pounce on your pussy, his ears honing into the words that spilled from your pretty lips. That was a green light. It had every nerve of his body igniting.
You didn't need to tell him twice.
He scampered between your thighs, securing them over his shoulders, kissing them, licking your sweat and the mix of your arousal, his and your cum on the crease where your thighs and your crotch. He chuckled when he heard your tiny moan and felt your fingers slipping through his hair and tugging. He took a deep breath and blowing a cold one over your clit.
"Hi, princess," he greeted, playfully at your pussy. "So pretty."
Then he dove right in, lapping up the mess that kept escaping you. He moaned. it wasn't his first time doing this, but how could you taste so new every fucking time? The mix of you had his eyes rolling upwards. It was so good that he couldn't stop lapping at the cum that had dripped before then coming back to your entrance and seeking more. More. And. More.
He needed more.
He must have more.
His tongue dipped into your shaking and quivering cunt, greedily gulping whatever you gave him. His ears listen to every sound you cried out, taking them as cue on how hard or slow he should go. His lips stretched into smiles and smirks whenever you screamed his name, whenever your legs convulsed and tightened like you wanted him to live in your pussy. He would if he could. Oh, he wanted that too.
Everything was a need.
He couldn't stop and didn't to because you were rolling your hips for every stroke of his tongue in your heat, because the taste of his cum was slowly diminishing and your taste delightfully overwhelming his senses. You were spoiling him with every drop of your arousal. You gave and gave until you were coming around his tongue, giving him the taste of purely your cum. You were perfect.
"Jack, ohmygodplease," you sobbed. "I can't anymore. Oh fuck."
"One more?" He asked, pushing his luck, tasting your cum on his lips, on his tongue, on his fucking throat. "Please?"
You gulped, shaking and panting with your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. Your eyes were twinkling so dangerously that he already knew your answer.
"Last one," you firmly said.
"Yes, My Princess."
Good night! 🏃🏻♀️🏃🏻♀️
Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated. 💙
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I wrote a thing with my friend! I hope you want to read the thing!
Eric/Jack, 12,050words, cute and fluffy
Summary: Romance. Jack could do romance. Absolutely, Jack could do romance, he could romance the pants off romance, that’s how well he could do romance.
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Bondage (Shibari / Ropes), Fingering, Consented Picture Taking of Intimate moments (only do this with someone you trust!!!), Unprotected Sex (use protections please), Dual POV. , Unprotected Sex (use protections!!!), Dual POV
Notes: Sorry for putting this out late! I got busy, I fear. Anyway, not too smutty (i think). I felt like I rushed this. I did my best though...😔😭🧎🏻♀️🧎🏻♀️
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Red looked good on you. Jack has specifically chosen this shade because it brought out that beautiful flush on your skin. He gave the rope another tug, the series of links tightens around your torso, its natural fibers digging onto your skin. He could already imagine its pattern leaving marks on your sensitive skin. His hands expertly moved crossing and twisting the ropes over your abdomen then at your back, just underneath your tied up hands. You were beautiful.
“Jack,” you called in a moan, your hands clenching and unclenching, your breathes turning more and more ragged. “Tighter.”
He hummed, doing exactly what you wanted, gripping the rope so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, anchoring himself in the image of you all tied up before he lost himself in the growing urges.
How many times had it been now? Times where he had tried to tie you up as best as he could just like what he had learned in those workshops that either you or he dragged each other to. Times where he would get distracted by your beauty, by your naked body glistening with sweat, and by your trembling from the mere anticipation. Times where he would let go of the rope before he could secure it so he could fuck you. Times where the red rope unravel between your bodies as you fucked or made love with each other. Jack didn’t know. It was plenty.
Hence, the reason why he was trying his best to see this through. He had enough of the disappointment that he felt for not giving you what you wanted, and of the sight of you staring with so much longing at the ropes that he bought for you because he failed to use it to its full capacity.
To stave off his exponentially growing need for you, he leaned down, pressing kisses on your skin, pulling tighter and tighter, listening to your sharp moans. He muttered praises about you doing a good job, whispering his promise that he would finish this.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he reminded, quickly knotting the rope. It was the type of knot that would tighten if you fought against it, because he knew that you would—not out of panic or fear, but out of overstimulation because of course, he would bring you higher than you’d ever experience with him. He pulled the rope over your hip and down the tops of your thighs. “Promise me that you will, princess.”
“I promise,” you gulped, yelping when he pushed you down on your side.
Jack tugged up your leg, spreading you wide open for him, seeing your arousal dripping from your pussy. He took another bundle of rope, taking his time to wrap it around your ankle once, twice, thrice, then he pushed your calf against your thigh. Knot after knot, he made his way up your pretty knee, using the whole bundle, then he did the same thing to your other leg.
“You’re so pretty,” he muttered, tugging the two loose ropes that tied your legs, twisting and knotting it with the one he used for your torso, combining them, gripping and pulling them, watching the tight ropes restrict your movements. He pushed you on your back, making you lay on your hands, letting you feel the discomfort that you thoroughly craved. “We did it—” He grazed his palm over your chest, playing with your pert nipples, over your trembling tummy, over your pussy, marveling your wetness coating him instantly, “—I got you all tied up like you wanted.”
˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚
Jack sounded too proud, and your stomach swirled with butterflies from seeing his happiness that leaked out of him in waves.
You swore that you came when his fingers traced over your clit, spread your pussy open, and dipped into your shaking and quivering walls. You tried to move, failing and failing. Fuck. You had so little control of your body. All you could do was move however he wanted and that was what you’d been craving for days.
“Jack,” you cried, shaking your head, clenching your pussy so hard around his fingers, whining when he pulled out. You begged, “No, please. Please.”
“I want to take a picture of you.” His tone was coated with his desperation, perfectly showing you how much he was losing himself. His pupils were swallowing the blues of his eyes. His voice was so ragged, rumbling and breaking. His twitching cock leaked with pre-cum, but somehow, he didn’t even care for it, ignoring it when you knew that he must be aching so much. He took his fingers to his lips, audibly gulping before licking and sucking your slick from them. He whimpered, frowning, looking at you with tears in his eyes, “Fuck, where was the camera again?”
The camera? For a moment, you stared at him in confusion, your brain fogging up from your desperation to have his cock pounding your pussy right this fucking second. Then it clicked. You could barely tell him where the device—the very one that you both used for anything sexual and all its memory cards in your possession—is as your own ache build and build. You wanted his touch. You wanted him to fuck you.
He disappeared into your shared walk-in closet, leaving you to feel your weight settling on your arms, leaving you aching and wanting, leaving you choking from the mere anticipation.
You attempted to close your legs, gasping and moaning when your restraints—the way he had knotted the ropes on the outer thighs—prevented you from the slightest relief. You groaned, almost yelling for Jack to come back, halting when you saw him silently snapping pictures of you.
“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He made his way back, casually scrolling through the pictures he had taken. “I did such a good job, didn’t I?” He only hummed when you affirmed that he did. Then he started taking more and more pictures, licking his lips, panting harder. “Fuck, you’re making a lot of mess.”
“Whose fault is that?” You groaned, flexing your toes. When he discarded the camera on the bed, crawling on top of you, you asked, “Are you done?”
“Yeah.” He bridged the distance between your lips, giving you a soft peck, then kissed you more, smiling and humming. “Now, what do we do, princess?”
It was such a dichotomy: him tying you up to be in his mercy, then him asking you what to do. He was saying it in a taunt but also in pure curiosity. He was giving you the reigns. He always did, but you wanted him to take you.
Impatience and frustration overcame you when he kept staring. No touching. No kissing. No biting. Nothing. Just staring at you. You didn’t want him to simply stare.
“You need to fuck me right now, Jack,” you demanded, flinching and gasping when his hand caressed your inner thigh, when he dipped lower to lick your aching nipple. “Fuck, yes, don’t stop, please.”
˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚
You were turning red. So fucking red. So adorable.
Jack sucked and nipped at your tits. His hand slipped underneath your back, easing the pressure that you must be feeling on your arms. His other hand teased your pussy, his fingers stroking up and down your slit then plunging deep into your quivering hole then back out.
You kept calling him again and again, struggling to breathe, crying from your desperation. Your sounds only caused shivers to run down his spine, down to every inch of his cock. Fuck, he needed you.
“You think you’re ready for me?” He asked, manhandling you onto your knees, chuckling when you dripped and dripped on the sheets. He gave your lower back a push, encouraging your pretty arch. “I bet you are.”
He didn’t waste anymore time. He easily fucked into your pussy, easily rolled his hips in time as he pulled your hips towards his, easily found the spot that had you screaming and moaning and sagging into the sheets.
Jack gave in to the need to push your hips down, letting you feel the pain from the ropes, caging you in as if you weren’t tied up, fucking you rougher and deeper. His need consumed his very being as his hand found your neck, forcing you to crane your head upward, so he could spit on your tongue, watch you gulp it down like a greedy and pretty slut, and feel your pussy squeezed so tightly like you were begging for his cum right then and there. He kissed you with his desire coating every crevice of his soul, because what else could he do?
He was already inside you. He was already making his just as he did, night after night. He already had you in the palm of his hand. He already—
With a hiss, he pulled out of you, so he could turn you on your side. He sank back into your pussy, laying almost all his weight on you, his hands cupping your cheeks. He kissed you with so much need and fervor that he was choking on his emotions. Pathetic whines and groans came out of him with his breath.
Something was missing. Your insistent touch. Your nails harshly scratching his skin. Your palm resting over his heart.
No. No. No. Why did he have to restrain your hands? It was in his way.
He hated that.
Nothing should be in his way.
“No hand restraints next time,” Jack begged, his voice straining. He moved his hips more, taking you, feeling you quiver around him. “Or maybe something easier to remove?”
“Okay.” You nodded. “Anything you want, Jack.”
You shouldn’t be saying that.
You were giving him everything.
So much of everything.
With his head spinning and his hands working the knots that secured your wrists, he was in a frenzy of you and nothing else. Once he had your hands were free, they were instantly on him, making him melt into fucking puddle with no thoughts left in head. Yet, he found himself muttering:
“You’re so good for me.”
“Can you feel what you do to me?”
“You need to come for me, princess, or I won’t be filling you with my cum. Don’t you want that?”
“I wanna fuck my cum in you so badly. Please. Just let go.”
“Let me feel you come.”
His words were slurring like he drank alcohol, but he was only ever drunk on you. It wasn’t enough. He begged and begged like he was the one tied down instead. You were holding back, depraving him of what he needed beyond the beautiful sight of you, beyond your tiny little moans, beyond your—
“Eyes on me.” Your voice brought him back. You gripped his neck, your hands trembling, your pussy quivering. “Only on me.”
“Only—” he groaned, “—on you.”
You came with a breathless moan, and he did with a rumbling growl onto your throat, listening and feeling your racing pulse and your skin sticking to his. His cock spurted bead after bead of his hot cum, painting your pussy white and his. He could barely move his hips to ride both of your orgasms. His vision darkened at the edges when his pleasure only seemed to grow the more he held you, the more you held him.
He would be satisfied with this. He would be happy to clean you up however you wanted him to. He would remove your bindings and then he would cuddle you to sleep and then—
“Is that all, Jack?” You mocked.
He felt dumb while his half-hard and spent cock slipped out of you. He frowned as his confusion took over him. He stared at how you were shaking with tiredness but there was something more in those gorgeous eyes.
A fire.
An insatiable need.
Oh, you weren’t done with him yet.
How foolish of him to think the night was over.
˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚
You grinned, wincing when Jack firmly rubbed ointment on the slightest hint of rope burn on your legs. It wasn’t that much. Just a few patches of skin where the knots were. The indents of the rope patterns were no longer there, because it was already morning. Your body ached so delightfully, but more than that, you were amused with how Jack was fussing over you.
“I didn’t mean for it to hurt you,” he muttered, pouting, sulking. “I thought it wouldn’t scratch you.”
He failed to fathom that no matter how special his red rope was, it was still rope. The surface abrasions were just little scratches, just a bit skin off your flesh, but nothing more. Nothing that would push you away from last night’s play. You wanted to try it again and again. There were loads of patterns and positions to try. You couldn’t pass that off.
You simply need to remind Jack that you were okay.
“It’s not too much,” you sighed, savoring his rough and gentle hands roaming down your body. “I can handle more.” When he didn’t say anything, you continued, “You think I can’t?”
“No,” he grumbled, pouncing you, holding you with his arms wrapped around your waist, hiding his face in your chest. He was no doubt listening to your heartbeats. He always did that. “I know you can. Just worried.”
“Oh, Jack,” you coaxed, brushing away his brown waves away from face. “There’s no need to be worried.”
“I know.” His arms tightened around you.
“You know that we can stop.”
“I don’t want to stop.” Jack huffed. “I like what we’re doing. Just don’t wanna hurt you.”
After minutes of just holding each other with your breaths falling in-sync, he rambled about stuff that he would buy like hooks that he could set up in the ceiling, a spreader bar and cuffs so that he could easily unlatch your hands—he had always wanted to be touched while you fucked—and a bunch of toys that he wanted to try on you. By the end of it, he was smiling too, his eyes shining with excitement.
There he was.
Your Jack.
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Hello, anon, lovely. Sorry for taking super long. Something took over my keyboard. I apologize if you don’t want a dom-sub dynamic, but I could NOT stop typing. Sorry, Jack got mean. Also, I am not used to writing this dynamic (a problem when my brain cells decided to brew this). We got another bonus here (you can skip it).
Caught
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Masturbation (usage of toy, then mutual), Dom-Sub dynamics (dom!Jack), Cockwarming as punishment, Degradation because Jack is angry -> slight Praise Kink, Unprotected sex (use protection, lovelies), a bit of Aftercare
Count: 3365 + 370 words | Masterlist | Taglist
You must’ve not heard him. Jack is sure that you didn’t. If you had, you would’ve greeted him with a smile and a kiss while calling his name in such a melodic voice.
If you had, you wouldn’t still be fucking yourself with your head almost handing off one armrest of the couch, with your beautiful lips parted, your breathy moans escaping them, with your legs shaking at the pace you’re going.
If you had, you would just beg for his cock immediately.
If you had, he would just give it to you like he does with everything you possibly want. It wouldn’t matter if a game exhausted the fuck out of him or if he just arrived from a long flight after a road trip—which he did right now. He spoils you rotten.
You want a kiss? He will kiss every inch of your skin until you whine for him to bite.
You want his cock? He’ll let you feel every inch of him until he’s buried so deeply inside you.
You want his handprints on your ass? He’ll make your skin red and raw and bruised that you’ll feel him every time you sit down.
You want to be filled? He will spill every fucking drop inside your pussy until you are spilling around him. Too fucking full of his cum that you worry if he impregnated you.
You want to explore more kinks? He’ll fucking do it until you beg for more.
You touching yourself is fine. It’s hot. He likes it the best when he orders you to make yourself come. He likes the way your delicate fingers circle your clit, rubbing your folds, fucking your pussy. You’re always such a good girl. So you deserve everything including exploring and worshipping yourself—
Then he notices the dildo in your hand.
A dildo.
A fucking dildo. In. His. Pussy.
Worse thing about it, it’shis equipment—bespoke, molded from his cock. However, the dildo is secondary to the huge problem. The biggest bane of this encounter is the fact that you’ve entered the room. You’ve taken the dildo from there.
You are not allowed inside without him for reasons. He wants you safe. He doesn’t want you to use any of his equipment, because it’s not safe. What if you get stuck on the restraints, on the swing, on the inversion table? What if you used the wooden horse without prepping yourself? What if. What if.
He needs you to be safe.
You promised him that you wouldn’t go inside. You promised that you’ll wait for him. You promised. And you broke it. In turn, you’ve defied him and broken his trust.
Everything. He does every fucking thing for you. Simply because you were so obedient. You were his good girl. He was too trusting. Look what that got him. A fucking brat who doesn’t follow simple fucking instructions.
Right now, your image feels like a lie. A mirage that had successfully lured him in with a promise to quench his thirst, to satisfy his needs over his wants, to make him feel whole and alive. A mirage that killed him for its empty promise.
His heart hammers loudly in his chest, making his ears ring, as your leg falls over the couch, your foot immediately planting on the carpeted floor. His throat tightens the more you moan. His eyesight darkens as he notes his fucking dildo you are thrusting in his pussy again and again.
What the fuck is your problem?
He grips the wall, knuckles turning white. He is glaring daggers into your skin. Cursing your audacity, your idiocy, your mistake. Your betrayal.
People are sensitive that they’ll sense a glare on them. Not you. That irks him more.
His anger exponentially rises. His heated blood courses through his veins. His cock twitches, getting harder as your lewd sounds drive him further towards the edge.
“Jack,” you moan, still unaware of his presence, still digging yourself a deeper hole. “Jack, please. Oh, yes, yes.”
Fucking whore. That’s what you are. A bad whore.
It doesn’t matter if it’s his name that spills out of your lips. It doesn’t. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. You’re thinking about him. That clears his mind. You are so beautiful as you continue fucking yourself. It’s basically his cock in your pussy. He swears he can smell you—your arousal, your sweat, your delectable scent—in the air. His heart pumps in anger but also his ever-growing, everlasting love for you. He loves you. So much. Even more now.
However, he must correct this act of defiance. He doesn’t want this to happen again. So, he moves.
One, he grips your hair, tugging until you gasp, your pretty eyes opening so widely and full of fear of being caught. Your pleading voice sounds as he drags out the dildo, throwing it over his shoulder. Your arousal wets his hand which he uses to grab your throat, forcing you to look right into his eyes.
“Caught in the fucking act, baby girl.” His voice sounds deeper even in his ears.
Like the whore you are, he knows you like it. The blush burns over your cheeks. Your pupils threaten to engulf all of your irises. When he squeezes his hand—putting pressure on your arteries, limiting the blood flow to your pretty head, limiting your air—your eyes roll up as you let out a strangled moan.
“Just a fucking whore,” he lets go, letting you whine and chase after his touch.
“Jack, I was so close,” you plead, going to your knees on the couch.
Jack can’t stop his scoff nor his eyes rolling. Are you serious? On the couch? Oh, he truly spoiled you.
He grabs you by your arm and yanks. He forces you to the floor, swallowing the urge to coddle you when he hears the loud thud from your knees hitting the floor. He plops down the couch, dragging you between his thighs. He sees the tears running down your cheeks. He hears your apology then your complaints, so he grabs your jaw, leaning down so harsh that your forehead bumps against each other.
“Where’d you get the dildo?” he asks.
“Ja—” One squeeze to your jaw and you stop. You sniffle. “From the room.”
“Which room?” he challenges.
When your eyes stray to the left, he knows you’ll lie.
You say, “The bedroom…under your stuff…”
He sighs, pushing you away by your jaw. He’s seeing fucking red again. He leans back, closing his eyes, controlling his breaths to calm the fuck down, running his hand through his hair. Okay, maybe he’s more disappointed than angry.
“I’ll give you one last chance, baby girl,” he warns. “Where?”
“Just under your clothes—"
“We both know that it was not under my clothes, was it?” He growls, grabbing your shirt to force it off you. You sniffle, trying to hide his tits, so he slaps your hands away. He mocks, “Trying to hide now, hmm? When your cunt has been leaking and making a mess on our carpet? When you were fucking yourself with the curtains open for the whole world to see? You are such a fucking whore.”
“Jack, please,” you cry.
You are breaking and your eyes show it. Of course, you are. You’re not used to this. You’ve only ever experienced the joys of being his submissive. Only ever heard praises whispered in your ears. But he can see how much you want it. You are more curious than hurt. He knows. He understands you more than you do yourself.
Jack swears your pupils grow wider. Your lips—that are still so red from you biting it while you were masturbating—are parted as you pant. Your nipples are hard peaks, begging for him to touch for a smidge of relief, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t think you deserve anything right now.
“Did you enjoy it at least?” He motions with his forefinger and middle curling, commanding you to move forward. You follow, your hands daring to run up his thighs. He lets you.
“Yes,” you say so quietly that it’s a whisper. “But I didn’t come.”
He’s still not hearing an apology. Is it so hard to say ‘Sorry, Jack, I broke my promise’ or ‘Sorry, Jack, I needed you and the dildo was the only thing I have here’ or just ‘Sorry, Jack’? Is that hard? You’re a clever girl, but why are you so dumb right now?
“I didn’t ask.” He unbuckles his belt, undoes his pants, exposing his rock-hard cock, totally distracting you. You are so simple when it comes to sex. “If I spank you, you’ll just come. If I tug your hair, you might. You are such a whore that you’ll just come even if I just pinch nipples right now.”
The way your breath hitches, your anticipation is heightening. Too hungry for whatever punishment he’ll give you, because you know it is coming. Maybe that’s why you’re not apologizing. You are taunting him. Fine. You’ve got him.
“You don’t get to come anymore.”
“What—”
He grabs you by your nape, pulling you so close to his cock. When you try to lick him, he gives your hair a tug. “Ah, ah. You’re not going to suck or lick”—you whimper a protest but he slaps his leaking cock on your lips—“or tease. You’re not going to do anything because I know how much of a whore you are that anything would just make you come. You don’t deserve to come or my kisses or cock on your needy little pussy. You’re not my good girl right now. Just a bad, bad girl.”
More tears escape your eyes. More whine from your lips. He doesn’t let you say another word, guiding his cock inside your mouth. He can feel your sob, can feel your remorse, but he chooses to ignore it. He pushes every aching inch of his cock down your throat. You can take all of him, he knows. Fuck, you feel so good. When you gulp, he almost comes, but he holds himself back. You don’t deserve his come.
“This is a punishment, baby. We’re going to stay like this,” he murmurs, smoothening down your hair, sliding his foot between your legs to keep you from making any unnecessary friction. “While I watch the replay of my game, hmm?”
You sniffle. You look so adorable with his cock in your mouth. So cute with your little tears. So cute when you dig your nails into his pants-covered thighs.
“You have your word,” he reminds you.
With no forcing hold over your head, you can pull away and tell him your safe word. This can stop—punishment or not. Just one word. But you don’t step back, and no word escapes you. Jack’s heart beats with excitement about learning this new side of you, rather, a new layer of you.
When Jack’s sure that you won’t do or say anything, he turns on the TV with the remote conveniently on the couch. He starts the game. Although, he’s not really watching. He can’t just analyze the plays when you’re between his legs and his cock down your throat. He can’t. All his focus is aimed at you, despite his eyes are on the screen. All he hears is your soft breathing. All he feels is your tongue pressed on the underside of his cock, your chin putting the slightest pressure on his balls, your nails finally finding the skin of his thighs and digging into it. All he smells is your shampoo and conditioner—from when you are lying down on this couch—and your arousal. And in turn, all he tastes is your pussy just from the fucking smell. He’s losing it. It takes him everything to hold back and not fuck your throat.
Shamelessly, he prays for you to mutter your word. Maybe if you get overwhelmed, he can calm down while he eases you. What the fuck is he even saying? He doesn’t want you to say it. He wants you to want this as much as he does. He wants you to get used to a punishment, because he can’t just keep spoiling you.
You are such a delight to spoil.
Later.
Definitely later.
Still, he waits for you to pull away, but you never do. He swallows a groan. He can’t wait to spoil you after this. You’re taking this so well that his heart is aching from pride. He has forgiven you, even before the first period ends.
Who is he kidding?
He already forgave you the moment his name escaped your lips. Fine, not that. He was so pissed that you lied to him.
The moment you take in all of him, managing to breathe around him, controlling yourself not to such because he knows how thirsty you are for cum. That’s it.
From time to time, Jack pats your head once before he slides his hand down your hair. It’s almost like he’s petting you. Every time, you sigh through your nose, air hitting his pelvis, making him fucking shudder.
He can’t help it. You feel so incredible that he’s losing it. Your tiny gulps are enough stimulation. Fuck. Fuck! So fucking good.
Your drool—that you fail to gulp down—drips from your lips. You shift on your knees. He knows your eyes are begging him to give your pillow or a knee pad. He can feel them on him, takes all of him not to cave. It hurts him not to care. To ignore you. He hates this. He’ll find another punishment that doesn’t hurt your pretty knees. Find another punishment that doesn’t make him feel guilty.
He doesn’t fucking understand it. He can bruise you, tie you up, fuck you with a dildo on a machine. He can do all of that with no issue so why is he hurting? Perhaps, he’s not cut out for this? Nope. Not that. He loves dominating you. He just needs to get you kneepads when he decides to do this again. Good idea. Perfect.
‘Good job,’ he mentally congratulates himself. One simply needs to boost his ego. Nothing’s weird about this. At all.
The second period ends.
You are sagging against him. Your jaw probably hurt. Jack finally looks down and sees how tired you look, how blush still stains your cheeks, how sweat beads on your skin. He pets your head again but instead of running his hand down your hair, he caresses your cheek then your jaw.
You sigh, looking so happy and satisfied with his touch.
“Fuck. Such a good girl,” he says, failing to stop the words, the truth. “My good girl.” He praises, “My good little whore.”
You preen, your eyes shining with happiness and love. Any ache in Jack’s chest disappears. He didn’t lose you. Not one bit. He still has you. You still love him as he loves you. Fuck, he’s so lucky.
He's so weak. One look from you, he’s ready to pull you up and cuddle you. One look, and he has forgotten how he got angry in the first place. It feels so far away.
“I just don’t want you to be hurt if your curiosity gets the best of you,” he says. “I know you, baby girl.”
He can feel the shudder that wrecked your body. The slow blink you did shows your understanding. He grazes his knuckles over your cheekbones, swiping at the dried-up tear tracks, then over chin to smear your drool. Just a bit. Beautiful. How are you this beautiful?
The game ends with the Devils’ win.He needs to rewatch it again so he can truly analyze the plays. Not now though. Later.
Jack carefully slides his aching cock from your lips, hissing from the sensation, groaning at the sight of your saliva acts like a tether that connects him from your perfect mouth which only breaks when his pre-cum drips from his slit. He easily picks you up and settles you over his lap sideways. When you move to wipe away the mess on your chin, he stops you, kissing your pretty fingers. A slow and deliberate kiss on each of them. His eyes on yours. Then he grabs your nape, pulling you closer.
“Jack,” you whisper against his lips.
Not a whine. Just a gentle murmur of his name that sounds like a song that soothes his soul. Like an angel singing hymns of humanity. He loves it when you call him by his name.
He says your name in response, then he kisses you. Tongues feel and caress, tasting one another. He deepens the kiss to sooth any numbness that you may be feeling, yet he nips your lips here and there. He can’t help but trail kisses to your chin, licking away the mess, your saliva, your drool. It’s not much but he needs it.
He’s greedy for it.
He licks, licks, and licks, gulping in between.
Even your sweat that beads your skin.
His brain engraining your soft noises—your moans, sighs, and groans.
He needs everything of you.
He’ll die if he doesn’t.
“You did so well. I’m so proud,” he whispers again and again. He needs you to understand him. “My good girl.”
“Oh, Jack,” you breathe.
When his hand curls into your inner thigh, fingers feeling your wet pussy, teasing your folds and pressing on your clit with his thumb, you sob. When his two of his fingers dip into your pussy, your eyes roll up, hips grinding to seek more pleasure. He gives it to you. His other hand is on your hips, securing you to him, not letting you escape.
He curses when your hand wraps around his cock, giving him the same attention, matching his tempo. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily for every tug. Fuck. So good. So fucking good.
It feels like eternity. Just you and him, bringing each other closer and closer to your undoing. Jack wants to keep you forever. He will keep you forever. He’ll make it happen. No matter what the cost. He can’t live without you anymore.
Can’t.
He fucking can’t.
You let out a squeal, hiding your face into his neck, your pussy quivers, clenching his fingers, as your orgasm consumes you. Your legs tremble, trapping his hand in between as if you’re scared that he’ll just leave you hanging. Jack will never. He rides your orgasm, teasing your clit over and over again until you are shaking your head, biting into his neck to stop him. He won’t stop.
The pain you’ve inflicted only sends him over the edge. He comes with his eyesight darkening. He fucking blacks out for a second, shuddering as you keep tugging and squeezing him. Your other hand grips his wrist as he brings you to another peak as he finally stops spurting cum on your thigh, your hips, your tummy, your breast. He made such a mess. On your fucking skin that he almost instantly goes hard again.
Both of you are a mess of sweat and cum.
It’s fucking perfect.
“I love you, baby,” he says, pulling out his hand from between your thighs.
“I love you too,” you respond, smiling against his skin.
Then you start to lick his fucking throat. Fucking hell. Fuck. His. Life.
His sensitive cock is rock hard again.
“Say that I’m your good girl again, Jack,” you plead.
Shifting his head to the side so you can have more access on his skin, he nods, saying, “My good girl.”
Your satisfied moan seals your fate. He wraps his hand around your thigh and shifts you like you’re a weightless doll. He has your legs spread wide, your pussy leaking on his cock, dripping both arousal and your cum.
You pant as he pushes in the tip. Inch by inch. Until he’s seated inside you.
Until he starts fucking you while holding your hips to stop you from moving. Stop you from fucking him, when it’s his fucking time to do it to you.
You just need to take it.
˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚
You sigh, watching Jack settle on the floor beside the bed. He’s wearing nothing but sweatpants. He lays his head on your sweatpant-covered shin, pressing a kiss over the fabric. His hand carefully holds your foot before he starts massaging the underside of your foot. You relax even more. That feels good.
His hair is still wet from the shower—he took after your bath—while yours is already dried. He dried it. He did a lot. He gave you a whole-body massage, pressing kisses on your skin. He gave extra attention to your knees, clearly fussing over how long you’ve been on your knees without kneepads. They were sore before, but not too sore. The floor is carpeted for fuck’s sake, and he worried too much. Him fussing over you was cute, so you let him. Besides, he needs it. You saw how his worry ate at him, so you appeased him.
He may think that he’s the only one spoiling someone in this relationship. You are too. By letting him have his control. By letting him take and mark you. By letting him take care of you.
This is special for him.
And for you.
“Jack, come here,” you call, taking a towel you’ve prepared under the pillow. He peeks up at you, his blue eyes filled with satisfaction, before crawling up, wrapping himself over you. You start to dry his hair. “Sorry I went in the room.”
He sighs, nodding. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t do it again.”
“Yeah…maybe.” You smirk.
A spark burns in his eyes. “You won’t,” he growls, still surrendering to you drying his hair, head resting between your breasts now, taking a non-subtle inhale. He murmurs, “Smells so good.”
You ran a hand through his hair, nails grazing his scalp that has him humping your thighs. You taunt, “I’m not promising anything anymore.”
He’s so hard but he still glares at you for your non-promise.
“You can’t stop me—”
He cuts you off with a deep kiss. His kiss is rough and deep that he’s basically fucking your mouth. He’s telling you—without words, just the kiss—that you are walking on thin ice.
Fuck that.
He’ll just have to punish you again.
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You absolutely killed it when you wrote Luke and Quinn as pillow princes!!! But what about Jack? Please, please, please write Pillow Prince!Jack x reader! I can’t bear to see my boy being left out 🤧
Thank you and much love! ✨💌🫶🏽💖
Hello! It's time for Jack being a pillow prince, i see. 🫣😏 Your wish is my command 🫡 Anyway, the photo on the right (if we ignore the slight cleft chin) kinda looks like Jack??? Or maybe it is just me and my blurry eyes.
Jack was never the type to shy away from anything. Well, he tried to. Because whenever he was with his friends and the topic of discussion suddenly turned to bedroom affairs, his entire demeanor would shift. He would pretend that the topic didn't affect him, but it did. He was not comfortable, because it would mean he had to pretend, to conform to "norms", to act as boisterous as he was, but he couldn't. He would turn unusually quiet, only wanting to go home.
So he did, every time, remembering your words:
"If you're uncomfortable, come to me. I'll protect you."
These echoed in his head, giving him strength to step away from anything that made him uneasy. They were his armor against the probing questions he never liked to answer, against any rumor circulating between his group of friends that he didn't want to confirm nor deny, against the world if needed be. It helped him take step after step, mile after mile, until he reached you.
One look at him was all you needed. You softly dropped your book on the coffee table, gave him an understanding smile, and spread your arms. Jack dove into them. His lips were already muttering about what happened while his heart pounded in worry and anxiety that he should've stayed and tried to pretend and that he felt different.
"I'm not comfortable with that talk," he sighed, burying his head in your neck, breathing in your comfortable scent.
"I know." Your hand soothed over his back, up and down, easing his nerves. Your other gently brushed through his hair, your nails lightly scraping his scalp that had goosebumps rising all over his body.
"I'm not embarrassed of anything—me, you, us. I just don't like talking about it with anyone else," he babbled, his arms flexing as he hugged you tighter.
"Hmm, I know," you hummed, nodding, guiding him from your neck to gaze at his eyes, at his soul. "I keep us to myself too."
That made his heart flutter. It wasn't about your relationship—your social media were both filled with hints of each other—but how you were in the bedroom. He was not embarrassed of it. No. Rather, he only wanted it free from anyone's unnecessary judgment. It was special. It should only be for you and him.
He leaned closer, your breath mixing, your lips almost touching. "May I?"
Your eyes instantly dropped to his lips, a playful smile stretching your lips. "Yes."
It was like his soul was quaking from that singular word. A permission.
He kissed you, his eyes closing, his breath hitching from your hand slipping into his shirt while the other caressing his neck. Oh, he loved your touch, your feel, your warmth. You were so perfect and gentle, letting him set the pace until he surrendered. He shuddered as you pushed, making him sit up, ordering him with just one look. He was off you, his hand grasping yours desperately, following you to your shared bedroom.
"Sit down, pretty boy," you ordered, smiling when he plopped on the edge of the bed, when he gazed up at you with his legs spread so you could step in between, when he whined helplessly as your hands held his cheeks. "So pretty, aren't you? My pretty boy."
There was a time when he hated being called that. He still did, but he loved you calling him that. It felt right. It felt correct. As your thumb grazed his lower lip, he felt his cock twitching and fighting against its confines. It ached. He wanted—
He needed—
"Shhh," you shushed, taking his hands, guiding him to undo your shirt's buttons. Only then did he realize you were only wearing his long-sleeved shirt. "Took you long enough to notice." You giggled, sounding so light and amused. "Look."
He gulped, noting your bare tits as he opened the shirt, pushing it down your shoulders, then seeing the lacy material of your panties. You continued to guide his hands. You made him touch and grab and feel your tits, your waist, your hips, your clothed pussy. A pathetic moan escaped his throat when he marked how wet you were.
"This is all for you, Jack," you murmured, your eyes burning with your desire for him. "Need my sweet boy to be naked and bare. Need to see all of you." You helped him strip. One clothing after another. "So pretty."
All Jack could do was pant harder and harder. Your touches were electrifying his skin. You showered his skin with kisses, murmuring praises after praises that had his cock leaking with pre-cum, that had him whining for more. When he tried to touch, you stepped away, ordering him to lay on the bed, so he did, his body trembling with his growing need.
"I got you, Jack," you whispered as you mounted his lap. You slid your panties to the side, grinding his length against your glistening folds. "Don't worry. You don't need to do a thing."
Jack almost came from your reassurance. His hands found home on your hips when you finally took in his cock, making him gasp and groan, his vision darkening, his ears ringing. Fuck, you felt so good.
He could barely form any concrete thought while you fucked him, grinding and rolling your hips, until he was begging and pleading for a kiss. Just one fucking kiss. You gave it to him. You always gave him everything he asked for. You were the only reason why he was down to do everything in the sheets. Like...that one.
He opened his lips, his nails digging into your skin. He controlled his breaths while you hovered, your nails marking him with scratches, your hair looking like halo on your head. You licked your lips first then you did it.
You spat in his mouth, and he greedily gulped what you gave. Fuck yes. Fuck his life. You were so perfect that his chest squeezed, his breaths stuttering.
"Good boy," you praised, your pussy squeezing, making him cry out. "You can come. You deserve it, my good and sweet Jack."
Jack shook his head, his hips thrusting upwards now. You both knew that he needed you to come first.
There were a lot of times when he pathetically came before you, but it didn't bother you. You would either ride his face, letting him clean up the mess he made while messing him up, or ride his oversensitive cock until he got hard and ready for another fuck. He loved it when you used him, when you made him yours, when you pushed him to his limits until he couldn't take it anymore. Only then would you stop. Only then would you hug and hold him while telling him how amazing he was until he passed out with a smile on his lips.
Still, he tried his best even when your pussy felt so good, trying to milk him of his cum, clenching and squeezing and fucking him so fucking good that his brain felt so hazy.
"Come on, Jack. Please come." You panted, letting out a whine that had him whimpering. "I need to feel you coming while I do. Please. Please."
That was another reason why he loved you. You weren't scared to plead too. You were so fucking real.
One more stroke and he was gone. He came hard, painting your pussy walls with his hot cum, gasping. You also came, your pussy clenching and convulsing. Jack didn't need to ask for kisses because you were already there, giving him the best fucking kiss that had him groaning and hugging you so tightly.
"I love you," he said in between kisses. He felt his tears falling when you told him, "I love you too."
Then you showered him with more kisses. All over his face—his temples, his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his neck, then his lips again.
All while his cock was still inside your pussy, making sure not one drop pf his cum escaping.
All while he silently gazed up at you like you'd given him the moon and the stars.
As his chain necklace with a pendant of your initial and a matching bracelet shone on his neck and wrist. You probably did and more.
You'd given him a home.
You were his home.
Another day. Another 3AM whorish thoughts. Good night!!! 🏃🏻♀️🏃🏻♀️🏃🏻♀️
Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated. 💙
thinking about car sex with Jack then being able to romantically cuddle & stargaze after through the insane roof windows ❤️
Connecting ask: prev ask just sent about Jack and his car i know you’re a quinn girlie i am too but his hair cut and the stubble had my eyes wandering a bit.
Hi, lovely!! Finally got to this request, 😔 are you still there? He looked so fine in that video, but i am still sobbing for his hair. YET I AGREE. He looked so scrumptious in that haircut too. 🫦 Stubble is INSANE. I love it. I am here for it. I wanna feel it on my p—WHAT. Anyway, here it is.
Underneath the Stars
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Thoughts, Smut and Fluff, Unprotected Sex, Car Sex.
Thoughts List | Taglist
Jack held you closer, shuddering and moaning breathily. It felt as though he was being electrified, his brain turning putty, his hands twitching and trembling as he gripped you tighter. One hand on your hip, guiding you, helping you. Another on your lower back, alternating between gripping and tracing circles on your skin. As he panted, he greedily inhaled the softness of your scent and the smell of sex.
He didn't plan this.
He only wanted to take you out of the city, let you see the stars you'd been raving about. He even packed sandwiches for snacks and steak in insulated containers for dinner. He even got your favorite wine. He only want to take you away so you could rest. Until you decided that wasn't enough.
The moment you two settled with sunroof open, with your seats reclined to wait for the stars to appear as the sun set, you were on him, kissing him, tugging at his shirt, climbing over the console so you could grind on him.
Jack couldn't do anything else, his mouth not working to remind you about food but kissing you, tearing at your clothes like he hadn't touched you for days. Now, you were both naked, stinking of sex and sweat, your skin slicked, your hair sticking to your skins, your discarded clothes were in piles in the passenger seat.
You were as desperate as him. You were whining and gasping with every thrust, almost screaming when he met them with his own, making sure to grind your clit against his lower abdomen.
"I love you, Jack," you panted for the hundredth time, your thrusts stuttering. "So much."
"I love you too, baby," he responded, capturing your lips into a seering kiss.
You two probably shouldn't do this in the car. Probably. But, fuck his life, he didn't fucking care. He fucked you harder, gritting his teeth, his vision getting splotchy, as your pussy convulsed one last time and you came, squeezing and trembling, pushing him over the cliff of his orgasm.
"You're the best," Jack panted, leaning back his head as he slowly thrust for every spurt of his cum, stopping when he could no longer give you anything. He exhaled, then again, "Love you."
You hummed, burying your face on his neck, murmuring something about a powernap. You were so adorable. The cutest even when you initiated the wonderful sex. It was always so good.
As your breaths slowed, he pressed tender kisses over your hair, one hand snatching his hoodie to cover your bareback so you wouldn't get cold.
Not minding the state of his hair, he focused on yours. He pried the free some of the tangles he could reach. His other hand still softly rubbed over your back. However, after a couple minutes, he was full on combing through your hair with two hands.
At that point, you suddenly sat up, jolting him so fucking much, because you were still connected. He silently cursed, getting so starstrucked when you yawned and stretched, all bare and fucking pretty. His cock twitched.
You smirked, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "Later, Jack."
"Fine." Jack feigned a huff. Hesitantly, he said, "You should...get off me..."
"What if I don't want to?" You asked, grabbing his cheeks, pressing soft kisses on his lips. He groaned, making you giggle, the sound sounding so light in his ears. "Fine, do we have tissues?"
Jack wasn't sure. He couldn't think about it becaude every time you moved had him getting harder and fucking harder. He gritted his teeth, lifting you off.
"Just use my shirt." He snatched it harshly from the seat and tenderly cleaned you, not minding if some of his cum spilled on him. "There we go."
He was supposed to urge you to your seat, but you remained on his lap, snatching his shirt to wipe at the mess on his thighs, on his fucking cock, your touch lingering right there.
"Baby, you gotta stop." He panted as you jerked his sensitive cock.
"Just one more?" You asked, your eyes looking so wide and innocent.
Jack thought that you might be planning on killing him in this isolated spot. What a good way die though. So he just let you have whatever you want even if it was to kill him by making him come so much. He couldn't stop his whines, his hips jerking. It wasn't long until he was coming, spilling hot cum all over himself, then on your tummy and your tits. Fuck, what a sight.
Now, he was grumbling when he cleaned you. He wanted to see his cum dried on your tits, but he guessed that was an at-home kind of deal. He helped you dress in your comfortable hoodie, the one where he had your initials embroidered on the hem, and your shorts. Only then you climbed over to your seat again, handing him his own clothes that matched yours.
"The stars are really nice out here," you muttered, after you took your packed dinner from the back.
Jack gazed up, seeing clusters of stars—galaxies, maybe. "Not much pollution out here."
"Not much people too." You grinned, your eyes crinkling at the sides, your blush tinting your cheeks. "We can fuck some more."
"What's with you tonight? You're insatiable," Jack said in awe, gripping his plastic container because his cock painfully twitched. "I like it, but I'm worried," he truthfully said.
"Just happy," you hummed, your eyes watering, your lips trembling. "You remembered."
He reached and caught your tears. "I remembered what?"
"That I wanted to stargaze." You sniffled.
Of course, he remembered. Why wouldn't he? There were moments where you talked about it. You weren't an avid stargazer to know constellations—or maybe you did and you were holding back on him—but you clearly liked the stars. He would take anywhere to see your precious stars.
"Come here," he called, putting his dinner on the dash. You sat right back on his lap, so he held you, kissing your tears away. "You're important to me. I'll remember everything you said. I already have future dates planned."
Your eyes were twinkling more than the stars. "Really?"
He nodded, laying you both down, pointing at the stars. He did a bit of research. He pointed a few constellations that he could see. That earned him a look of wonder and even a little applause. He laughed at your antics. His Love was so silly. You genuinely acted like he knew a lot while you pointed at some patterns and explained them. Jack might not see them but he nodded, marveling your joy.
This was a good date, huh? He should be proud of himself but instead, he found himself feeling so full just because you were having fun. His arms hugged tighter and when you looked at him, he started telling you about a few of the dates he had planned.
His heart pounded in his chest when you smiled wider, your pretty eyes full of mirth. When you started including some of your ideas, he was mentally taking notes, because he would definitely include everything you said.
You two spend hours in each other's arms.
Just talking. Just stargazing. Just sharing a meal that should've been eaten immediately, and drinking wine straight from the bottle for you and water for him. Just being happy underneath the stars before you teo decided to kiss again that led to more.
Good night!! 🏃🏻♀️🏃🏻♀️🏃🏻♀️
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