Glass Eye (Eyeless Jack X Reader)

Unholy Matrimony

Due to popular request on Quotev, I present to you: smut.

If you're fangirling\ fanboying\ fantheming now, just you wait.

I'm no good at smut, but I've lit my candle of lust and have applied the frankincense to my wrist, so, here we go.

I tried. And died.

--

Humming lowly to myself as I rinsed the dishes left over from my late lunch seemed to have caught the attention of my doting husband.

Husband.

The word rang heavily and carried deep, binding meaning- though it was serious in nature, it was only fitting. We hadn't come to fall in love through an easy means, and so the heavy, form-fitting title was only appropriate. Though I held no regrets about marrying Jack, I had found myself a bit apprehensive about the promising things that marriage entailed.

Jack was, by no means, an average individual, so I was only left to assume that the unusualness of him would undoubtedly carry over into a more bedroom type of setting.

"You always hum when you're happy, dove,"

Gently breaking me of my thoughts were his strong, soft arms caressing their way around my waist, ensnaring me in his affections. I subconsciously leaned into it; though the notion was merely an innocent display of affection, my memories drifted to a much more lustful time where his arms had snaked around my form in a similar way.

We hadn't been able to stop crying on the actual night of our wedding due to my resurrection; we had all celebrated from nightfall into the eves of morning; Toby hadn't left my side long enough for even a single attempt at intimacy with Jack. Though, I didn't hold a grudge against him for it; the night had been one of the most memorable of my entire feeble existence.

Tim had found himself a bit too drunk for his own good as he rambled on to himself and any willing (or unwilling) listener about some of his greatest accomplishments while Brian sulked to himself in a forgotten corner of whatever room we had gravitated into for a majority of the night. Brian and I had made up since then, but I hadn't made it unknown that I didn't appreciate his appearance at our wedding. 

Nearly a full year had gone by before Jack and I actually found ourselves referring to one another as husband and wife, though we more than knew we possessed the title. Jack had explained that he knew, consciously, that he could refer to me as his wife, but he stated that it felt too possessive. He felt as though calling me 'his wife' was an extremely degrading thing to dub as my moniker; he didn't want to put out the impression that I was an object to be owned. I wasn't his wife; I was his life partner. The changer of his heart and soul, the main cause of his headaches. Though, I found him quite contradictive within his own reasoning when it came to intimacy...

He rested above me, small trails of sweat cascading down from his back into the creases of his chiseled chest, catching the moonlight in an extremely sensual, glistening manner. His bottom lip quivered just slightly, along with my own, as he exhaled in a pleasure much more enjoyable than bliss. A soft, low growl turned sweet moan escaped his lips as he raised one arm above my head, positioning his hand next to my temple, resting against the pillow I had been occupying as he lowered himself to just a breath above my exposed collarbone.

Through his jagged yet semi-controlled breathing, he spoke low, sweet whispers that battered my senses; the smell of him, the presence of him, it all surrounded me, encased me, pricked at emotions unknown yet wanted. He elicited and awoke an intense, lustful urge from the depths of my being. It called for him, it yearned for all parts of him. It craved him in his entirety, craved more of his touch, craved more of his soft words of praise. Craved him.

"(Name), you're flushed,"

I most certainly was. As I broke myself from my rather entrancing thoughts, I turned fully around to face Jack, who wore a look of concern across his unmasked face.

"I-I'm fine, just daydreaming,"

I had only time to attempt to turn back to finish the dishes I had been ignoring before Jack all but whipped me around to face him yet again, dish still in hand, soapy water dripping onto the floor in a steady rhythm. It wasn't the only thing in the cabin that had incredibly steady rhythm.

His senses were immaculate, every single one of them; every time my body craved more of him, he knew exactly where to touch to satiate it. Every time my body reacted to his touch, he knew just how to compliment the movement of my body with his own.

There was not a single moment where love wasn't felt or heard; though he tended not to say that he loved me directly, as he thought love was such a weak word for what he felt for me, I heard it maybe a thousand times that night. His hands caressed every curve of my body, his fingertips exuding lust while his palms soothed with intense, unwavering adoration. 

When it came to reciprocation, Jack was incredibly patient and willing. His body arched with pleasure at my touch as his senses were bombarded with enticing play; Jack was incredibly vocal when he found something he liked. His vocal encouragement edged me, touched my ears in such a delicate, sensual way. I wanted to hear more of his desperate whimpers; though I gave in almost instantly to his pleas for more, I still found it quite charming that he partook in such play. Not that he didn't return the favor, of course; it was only fair.

Our bodies melded together in a disgustingly desperate dance for mutual pleasure. He allowed himself to lose control a bit at my encouraging words; if I was going to feel him at all, I wanted to feel him in full. His teeth grazed over the most delicate parts of my throat; the urge to harshly bite down had claimed him as he littered my neck in pin-prick sized holes as his teeth sunk into my flesh. I reveled in the mixture of slight pain with an extra dose of pleasure; he moved his body against my own from above me as he drew his tongue lazily over the dribbles of blood, his hands gripped the pillow from either side of my head; his control over his release was wavering, as was my own.

Jack's knowing face didn't break me from my thoughts; if anything, it egged them on. A light dusting of pink snuck its way over his heavenly cheeks as he read me like an open book. Though he didn't have the ability to read my mind, at least not yet, I knew he could sense the emotion pouring from my body.

The insatiable cannibal had finally been satiated; his arms held tightly around my waist as his soft breath tickled my nose. His own nose was buried in the crook of my neck as he pressed his naked body against my own similarly dressed body. Emanating from him was a low, content purr of sorts; the demon was content, and so was his demoness. Even the darkness that had settled over the room, I could see him begin to stir from his comfortable position. He rose himself to an elbow, his eyeless gaze scanning my serene face.

"Outside of this room, you are the love of my life, my life partner. But in this room, you're my wife, and I'm your husband. We are nothing but property of each other in the space of this room. We belong to nothing but the night, belong to nothing but our flesh, nothing but each other,"

"I know what you want,"

He smirked as he sauntered toward me, unfurling himself to his full height. No longer did it intimidate me; instead, it excited me. Outside of our secret little world, he was a murderer. A cannibal. A demon.

But where we were going, he was the love of my life. My soul mate. My entire life. My husband.

 We belonged to nothing but the night, nothing but our flesh, and nothing but each other.

--SCREAMING WITHOUT THE S--