(hammers No Kids Allowed sign onto this fanfiction)
(stares at you like Walter White from breaking bad)
(applies skinny shades)
Of course, you had your excuses. By this point, creating defenses for the actions of your current boyfriend came to you naturally, almost as if it were a sixth sense. Jack tended to be the most difficult to allude, however, and he would often reach out and brush his fingers against the throbbing bruises that stubbornly insisted on peeking out from under your collar or sleeves whenever the damned spirit was around.
What consistently hurt more than the slight pressure of his fingertips against your bruises was the expression on his face. His eyes, which were so astonishingly blue, would strike the deepest cord in your chest as they overflowed with remorse. His lips, which would part with the beginning of a thousand accusations, would always shut before he had a chance to speak.
Your responses to these reoccurring situations were static - slap his hand away, mumble an apology, then force a smile. "I'm fine," you would say, shoving your hands in your pockets. "Don't worry about me, stupid."
It wasn't as if you enjoyed lying to your friend. You didn't. How you feel towards your current boyfriend is already a complicated matter in itself, and you honestly didn't need Jack to be stressing himself over you in an attempt to get you to a better state.
Hah, that was a contradiction if you've ever known one.
Ever since you discovered you could see and speak to spirits, Jack's all-around playful nature had become your outlet, your escape. However, all of that changed when he discovered your boyfriend abuses you - hell, things changed when he discovered you had a boyfriend period.
You sighed, wrapping your fingers around a steaming cup of hot coffee. Your mother's voice, drifting into the kitchen from her room, announced how she will be running to complete some errands and will be back within a few hours.
"Can you get me some Cap'n Crunch while you're out?" You called, (eye colour) eyes trained on the steam rising from your cup.
Your mother's approaching footsteps averted your attention to the doorway. Her expression was grim as she leaned against the door frame, folding her arms. "What is up with you?" she asked, "you're always asking for cereal nowadays.
"And that's a bad thing?" You muttered, sipping your drink.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed your mother give her head a slight shake before saying "You're always upset when you ask for cereal. It's like your cry for help."
You roll your eyes, standing. "Or maybe I just really need Cap'n right now." You made your way to the sink, reached out a hand to turn the faucet, then paused. "Actually, forget I said that, it sounds too kinky."
Your mother gave a chuckle, followed by one of her only-you sighs. "Oh, (F/N). Well, I'll be back in about an hour or so. When I'm back, I expect to see-"
"My room clean, it's a jungle in there." You finished in a monotone, shoving your hands into your pockets. "I've got this, mom," you said, rolling your eyes. "I'm not a kid anymore."
"That doesn't stop you from acting like one."
You couldn't stop yourself from grinning at what you took as a compliment. When your mother spoke again ("...and please don't burn the house down while I'm gone."), it was from the doorway, and one opening and closing of the door later, she and her purse had set off into the snowy evening.
Almost immediately after her departure, a chilly draft rose goosebumps on your skin. You had no need to turn around - this has been going on for so long that you could practically feel it when Jack was in the room, even if he wasn't directly in your line of sight.
"Back from plotting?" You teased, turning on heel to face your old friend, who was sitting atop of the kitchen table, staff in hand.
Jack gave a short, dry chuckle, one that made it known he caught on to the underlying meaning of your statement. "Obviously. That bastard is getting kicked by snowmen as we speak."
Your unamused expression wipes the grin from Jack's face. "Don't call him that."
He scoffed, leaping down from the table. "I really could send a mafia of snowmen after him on a daily basis, but I don't. I think I should get some bonus points for that."
"Well you don't, since you shouldn't be intervening period." Somehow you managed to keep your tone joking, but you can't help the unconscious clenching of your fists in your pockets as Jack approaches. Tilting your head up slightly to hold eye-contact, you continue, "Seems like you're fighting for a lost cause, friend."
"Oh, is that so?" By this point, Jack's face was only a few inches from your own, and that in itself was only due to the height difference. "He hits you, (F/N)."
"He can't help it!" You growled, forcing your hands into his chest in an attempt to push him away. That doesn't work at all. In one, swift movement, Jack has your wrists pinned in his grasp. "W-What're you..." You glance from your wrists, which are encased in his pale hands, to his eyes, where you freeze.
His gaze burns with emotion, words, thousands of them that he never had the chance to express. Jack was screaming at you without saying a thing, and you couldn't bring yourself to turn away. You could only listen with your body of dried cement, and you couldn't move. Your heart was hammering and Jack was leaning, and by your next intake of breath, his lips were pressed against yours.
At first, all form of thought failed you. Your mind had become a blank slate, and nothing seemed to register other than the feel of how soft they were, and how delicate they felt while moving against yours.
Then came the surge of guilt, confusion, longing and desire to push Jack away. You were drowning and you didn't know how to swim.
You parted your lips in what was meant to be the beginning of a protest, but the spirit had obviously mistaken it as an invitation and rushed his tongue into your mouth.
Jack's minty taste flooded your senses, made you blush. "Mmm-!" You groaned in an attempt to speak, but the attempt was futile. At every attempt to duck your head back to separate, Jack would lean forward, keeping your lips in sync.
Suddenly you felt hands against your hips, and a short amount of desperate fumbling later, Jack had you pinned up against a wall. There was no escape.
...What else was there left for you to do?
Blushing heavily, you began to ease into the kiss just as it began to heat up. Jack's minty taste dominated your senses as he devoured your saliva, with each movement of his tongue against yours sending jolts of sensations down to your crotch.
You didn't realise how desperately you needed air until Jack broke the contact. Immediately you began taking in air in gasps. "J..ack," you choke out, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to ease the throbbing in your lower regions while Jack latched onto your lower lip and suckled. "Jack, we shouldn't be doing...ah!"
His lips glided over to the conjuncture between your shoulder and neck and latched onto the spot.
You mewled feebly, legs buckling under the onslaught of arousal. Jack catches you by the backs of your thighs, just underneath your bum. In one swift movement, he lifts you just enough for your groins to be level and grinds you into the wall, trapping you.
"Fuck."
"Ah-ah, language, (F/N)," he teased, forcing his crotch into yours in rough, circular motions. "You wouldn't - ah - want Santa to add you to the naughty list, now would you?"
The only response you could conjure up was a thick moan, which was quickly silenced by Jack's unrelenting tongue. This kiss was far dirtier than any you have ever experienced. Wet sucking sounds filled the room and laced with the squelching noises made every time Jack's groin came into contact with your own.
You release a sound somewhere caught between a grunt and a moan as you attempt to find the flap of Jack's jacket in order to dispose of the damned thing.
Rather than helping you as you would have hoped, Jack captures your fumbling hands in his own, pinning them above your head. "Ah, not yet," he said, pressing his grinning lips to your ear. "I need to do something first."
Jack's length strains against his jeans as he quickens the friction between your crotches. His intention was clear - he wasn't taking off a thing until you come first. You released an agonized moan, caught between feeling degraded and excited. The heat in your groin is skyrocketing and you can't stop it. Your breathing intensified. Your legs seemed to act on their own and move with Jack's to meet his rhythm, to find some sort of relief from this torture.
Suddenly, a thought hits you like a brick. "My pants! T-Take them off, or I'll..." you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence, not that you would have even been capable of it. You were fiercely interrupted by your own, lewd cry as everything whited out. All you knew was Jack - Jack and his harsh breathing in your ear, the hypnotising movements of his dick against your groin, and how good it felt. A few convulsions later, something overly warm and sticky was flowing from your core.
It was disgusting and delicious all at once. It spilled into your underwear and overflowed, dampening your jeans. Your legs, arms, and lips trembled as Jack slowly brought his administrations to a halt.
Your combined pants filled the small hall. Vaguely, you realised the erect mound that was Jack's crotch still pressed up against yours. "Hey..," you breathed, poking it with your finger. "You're still hard."
Jack's chuckle was breathless. "That's because I'm not done with you yet, dummy."
i may as well've dressed jack up as a plumber and had him saunter into your house while your boypren was gone (if you need me i'll be pursuing my apparent talent for creating cheesy porno plotlines)