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𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇— Priest! Jimmy x Reader.

note: i felt this jolt of inspiration to write priest jimmy after seeing this

divider creds: @byuvly @kodaswrld

warnings: this is so not proofread and has shitty writing please forgive me :') usage of the words father and child, and dove. sex in church, reader is widowed,age gap, reader is 20, jimmy is in his early forties. both are confused as to what they fucking want, slight coercian if you blink. confessionals blah blah you get the point, the whole shabang.

author's note: heed the warnings man, I'm NOT against religion please do not come at me for this, also my first time trying to attempt actual smut puhlease don't judge me i can't write smut to save my skin el oh el.

You buried your husband on a wednesday.

The rain had come down in slow, deliberate sheets, as if the sky itself was in mourning. Black umbrellas dotted the cemetery like bruises, and somewhere in the distance, a bird kept singing even as the earth was split open for his body.

You were twenty.

And a widow.

people whispered about how young you looked in black, about how delicate your face was. how pretty, how sad, how quiet, one of the older church women had called you a “little lamb of God” as if it were a compliment. As if it were a fate you should be grateful for.

you weren’t.

the weeks that followed passed in a haze of condolences and casseroles, rosaries and relentless suffocating silence. your house still smelled like him. his coat still hung by the door. But the bed had turned cold.

so had your body.

but not in the way people expected. No... not in the way good widows are supposed to be. because underneath the grief, something else was festering. something vulgar. something hot and shameful.

you missed the feel of a man... the warmth, the touch... the satisfaction.

and you hated yourself for it.

so you did what you were told... you went to church, you prayed. you fasted, you lit candles and repeated scriptures until your lips cracked, you pressed your thighs together at night like it might cleanse you from the inside out.

but the ache never left, rather... It only grew worse.

and that’s when you started seeing him differently.

Father James Zare, or Jimmy... as he was called around town by close ones.

he wasn’t new. you’d seen him a hundred times before, heard his sermons, nodded politely as he passed. he was well-respected, quiet, albeit a bit non-priestly looking but that's hardly a crime in itself. above all. He was a man of God, a man above desire.

but then one sunday, something shifted, something that you never even expected would be the worst case scenario, you had a dream, about him. what kind of a fucking widow would start having wet dreams of her neighborhood church priest within months of her husbands death? shameful would've been an understatement.

you woke up gasping, ashamed.

you came to the realisation that the only way this was gonna stop is by confessing your sin, again. it was the right thing to do, it should've been the right thing to be done.

the chapel was quiet at dusk.

golden light leaked through the stained-glass windows, bleeding into the pews like warm blood...the scent of incense still lingered from the evening mass, clove-heavy and thick.

the confessional was dim, heavy with the scent of old wood, candlewax, and incense. rain whispered against the chapel’s tall windows, as though the heavens themselves were shushing the storm about to unfold inside.

you knelt inside the confessional, hands twisted together in your lap, breath trembling, you’d been in here more times this month than in the entirety of your life... It was becoming a ritual... a fever, a cry in the dark.

the wooden screen slid open.

“Speak, child.”

Father James' voice, low,grave... a rasp tucked into its edges.

you swallowed, hard. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

you hesitated. “Three days.”

silence. a pause that stretched too long... you could feel it.

“Go on,” he said at last, quieter now.

“I…” tou closed your eyes, heat prickling your face. “I’ve had thoughts again...”

“What kind of thoughts?”

you could hear him shifting faintly on the other side, not leaning closer, but not relaxed either. the space between your words and his breath felt hot, like you were swallowed whole by this confessional booth.

“Impure ones,” you whispered. “about... touching...about wanting. even though I-I know I shouldn’t. I pray. I do. but it keeps coming back. It… it gets worse at night.”

Silence again. You dared not look at the screen.

“I’m a widow,” you continued, hands clenched tight. “And I know I should live the rest of my life in honor. I know what scripture says. But I feel cursed... my body betrays me. my mind too. I’m weak, Father.”

on the other side, Father Jimmy's knuckles were white against the armrest.

he knew your voice, everyone in the parish did. sweet, soft-spoken... the kind of woman others put on pedestals so they could worship their own twisted image of innocence. a doll to be looked at, a fawn to be led. Or hunted.

but... he had seen more.

he had seen you hunched over in the pews late at night after everyone else had gone... crying, mumbling prayers with the desperation of someone drowning. he had seen the flicker in your eyes when your gaze lingered too long on his hands, his lips, his throat.

and now here you were. confessing. pouring sin into his ears like wine...he could feel his pants get a bit tighter.

fuck. he was rock hard. during a confessional.

“I’ve tried everything,” you whispered. “I fast. I burn candles. I read scripture. I wear long sleeves even when I’m sweating. but I keep waking up in the middle of the night and my body’s gotten weak...”

and then you accidentally blurted out.

“sometimes I even dream of you-”

silence.

“I mean- not you, not like you you...just it’s always in the church and the collar and it’s confusing and I wake up crying and-”

your voice cracked, you stopped yourself, gasping, shame smothering you like a chokehold, you pressed your lips shut, wishing you could pull the words back through the screen, Your face burned... you weren’t sure if it was shame or something far more dangerous.his voice, when it came, was deeper than before.

“Your grief does not make you impure.”

You blinked.

“But the thoughts…” you whispered.

“Grief,” he said again, firmer now, as if reminding himself too. “manifests in many ways, some ache in their chest, some in their soul, And some in their flesh.”

silence again.

“I see you here, week after week,” he said, slowly. “torturing yourself. thinking that by denying your body, you’ll absolve your soul, but that is not penance, child...that is cruelty.”

you turned your face toward the screen...the outline of his silhouette behind the mesh burned into your mind.

“I don’t want to be cruel,” you said, “but I’m scared... I’m scared if I stop punishing myself… I’ll want everything again... I’ll become something else.”

“you already do,” he said, barely above a whisper.

you froze.

he didn’t move, But the air between you changed. Grew thick. Pulsing with something unspoken... something... unholy.

“I beg your pardon, Father?” you asked, voice shaking.

He closed his eyes.

His restraint was a noose. And it was fraying.

“You should go,” he said suddenly, sharply. “You’ve confessed. You’ve done your part”.

you hesitated.

“Go,” he said again, and this time, his voice cracked...he said it in a much assertive tone, as if he was commanding you.

“say fifteen hail marys, and leave child”.

you opened the door of the confessional slowly, feet like lead.

and as you stepped into the aisle, the last of the sunlight dying behind you, you didn’t see the way he leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands tangled in his hair.

you didn’t see the war behind that screen they day.

the chapel was mostly empty at night.

most didn’t come after sunset, the old building... with its arched ceilings and worn pews, became something else in the quiet hours. a place not just of worship, but of longing.

the candlelight flickered low along the walls, casting long, wavering shadows. the saints in the stained glass looked down with their pale eyes and folded hands, watching... judging, or maybe just listening.

you were alone, at least you thought you were.

your footsteps echoed softly as you walked down the aisle, a prayer book clutched to your chest like armor. the marble beneath your shoes was cold, even through the soles. It always felt colder at night... like the chill came from inside the walls, as if they breathed.

you hadn’t meant to stay so late. But you couldn't sleep, again.

your dreams had turned to heat and fire, hands that weren’t your husband’s, lips that you shouldn’t be craving... every time you woke up slick with guilt and shame, the only place you could run to was here, within the church walls did you ever find an ounce of solace.

you sat in your usual pew, third row from the altar. your hands shook as you lit a small votive candle, watching the tiny flame catch and burn, It trembled, just like you.

outside, the wind had picked up. leaves scraped against the stained glass like fingertips clawing to get in... or out.

and then, you heard it.

his footsteps, heavy, slow. behind you.

you turned.

Father Jimmy emerged from the sacristy, robes dark against the candlelight, collar stark white. His hands were tucked behind his back, his jaw tense. His eyes...God, his Eyes... pierced through the dim.

he didn’t expect you here, but he didn't mind you being here, either.

“Miss,” he said, voice like rough velvet. “It’s late.”

you stood, a bit flustered, brushing invisible dust off your skirt. “I… I couldn’t sleep, I thought I’d pray for a while.”

he nodded, slowly. “I see.”

you hated how small your voice sounded. “I won’t stay long.”

he stepped closer, not enough to cross a line, but enough that you could feel the weight of his presence.

“I never said you had to leave,” he said.

the silence between you stretched, thick and taut.

you could smell the incense on him, it was faint... but it was there. you could see the strain in his throat where he swallowed. He looked tired, yet unturned.

“You’ve been here a lot lately,” he said.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

he studied you for a long moment, then, said, “are the thoughts still troubling you?”

a flush crept up your neck, you wanted to disappear... melt into the floor. “Yes, Father.”

“and have you… done what we discussed? the prayers? the fasting?”

“I’ve tried.” you looked away. “but I still wake up… needing things I shouldn’t.”

he exhaled hard through his nose. like he knew you were gonna give this answer, like he was trying his best to restrain something in him.

the wind outside howled louder.

“It’s not weakness,” he said.

“To want.” His voice was quiet. Measured. “It’s not evil.”

You blinked, confused.

“but you said-”

“I said to pray,” he cut you off, voice tightening, “I didn’t say to hate yourself.”

he stepped closer.

now he was in the same pew row as you...you could see the edge of his wrist, the veins in his hand, the line of his jaw.

he wasn’t just a priest. Not in that moment, not to you.

in that moment, to you,he was a man.

“You should go home,” he said again, softer now.

but neither of you moved...and in that flickering candlelight, in the thick quiet of the chapel, something shifted.

he came closer, much closer this time, to the point it did cross a line... you could practically feel his breath on your face now, he placed his forehead on yours, and asked.

“what is it that you want of me?”. It came out barely in a whisper.

you couldn't believe your eyes, or your luck, for that matter. 'no fucking way...' you thought to yourself, but there wasn't any time for thinking, before he continued again.

“do you have the slightest clue about how hard it was for me to not touch you that day? during the confessional?”. his voice was thick, laced with desire, it sent shivers down your spine, you parted your lips and finally spoke.

“I... I want you father... please...it's been too painful... I'm... please”.

you felt miserable, pathetic... what kind of a woman begs a priest for something like this?

"i shouldn't fucking do this... Lord, forgive me...” he said in a whisper like growl.

then, without any warning, his lips crashed onto yours, a small gasp escaped your mouth before you kissed him back, the kiss was urgent, filled with hunger, as if it was something that needed to be done long... long ago.

the kiss deepened, a few moans leaving your lips had father growling into the kiss as well, it was wild, you never had imagined in your wildest of dreams that you would be doing this with a priest, in a church.

you both pulled away from the kiss with a thin strand of saliva connecting your tongues, panting, jimmy spoke up, “you have no idea how long I had been wanting to do that, child".

his mouth moved from your lips to your earlobe, nibbling on them that sends a jolt through your entire body, you moan, and he smiles at that.. he peppers your neck with kisses.

“Take off your clothes,”he commands, his eyes roaming over your body.

you do as he says, peeling off your dress and bra until you're standing before him in nothing but a pair of lace panties. His eyes darken further as he takes in your bare form.

“Beautiful,” he breathes,,“You're even more perfect than I had imagined, little dove”.

he reaches out, cupping your breasts in his hands and rolling your nipples between his fingers, you whimper at the sensation, arching into his touch.

“Please, Father,” you beg, “I need you.”

he chuckles darkly, his hand sliding down your stomach and into your panties. “so wet,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking your slick folds, “So ready for father's cock”.

you moan, grinding against his hand. he pulls your panties down, tossing them aside before pushing you down. he kneels between your legs, his face inches from your core, his breath hot on your skin.

he leans in, his tongue darting out to lick your clit, you cry out, your hips bucking against his face, he moans, “you taste like heaven”. the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

He licks and sucks at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your body writhing beneath him.

"Please," you beg, "I need more."

He looks up at you, his eyes smoldering. "Beg for it," he demands.

"Please, Father," you plead, "I need your cock inside me. I need you to fuck me hard."

He grins, standing up and unbuckling his belt. He pulls down his pants, revealing a thick, hard cock. You lick your lips, eager to taste him.

He kneels between your legs again, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. “tell me what you desire, child, and I might just give it to you”.

“Please, Father,”you beg, “I want your cock inside me more than anything. I want you to fill me up and make me yours.”

he grunts, “such sinful language my sweet dove”. thrusting into you with one smooth motion, you cry out, your back arching off the bed as he stretches you wide.

"God". he groans, “you're so tight.”

he begins to move, thrusting into you hard and fast, the sound of slick and skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing harmoniously with your moans and his grunts.

“you're mine, dove”. he growls, pounding into you even harder. “all mine.”

“yes! yesyes!” you gasp, your nails digging into his back, “im yours and only yours father~!”.

he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth.

he reaches between your bodies, rubbing your clit in tight circles. The added stimulation sends you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you come hard.

he follows soon after, spilling his hoy load inside you with a loud groan, your body felt electrified, you saw stars. he then collapsed on top of you, breathing hard. you're both panting and spent.

that was...incredible," you say, your voice hoarse.

Jimmy smiles, pulling you closer to his chest, “there will be another confessional...my child, there's so much more I want to do with you.”

you grin, already feeling yourself heating up again,"Lead the way, Father."

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MothWashing sketches

AU details under cut

I like Mothman. I like Mouthwashing.

Thus, MothWashing was born.

Basically, Jim and Anya are ‘monster hunters’ and host an internet show where they go out and try to find these monsters. Very Buzzfeed Unsolved coded. Anya is this crazy conspiracy lady who believes with her whole heart these monsters are real. Jim is a skeptic who isn’t taking any of this seriously and is a dick the whole time. They never catch any of these monsters, either because they really are just myths or because Jim is being such an asshole even the ghouls don’t want to be around him.

Things change during the Mothman episode. They actually find him… well, he finds them. Shenanigans ensue.

Also MothCurly has a tendency to eat people. Oops.

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Hi Sodi, hope you are well !!

If you're still doing requests, could you draw Jimmy (and/or Curly lol) taking a midday siesta please?

Hi!! I hope I understood the assignment oops! These are very scribbly and they’re kinda different from one another but I like the idea that these two have/had the potential to have some banging naps together. Imagine how much trouble might have been avoided if they just stuck that tin can on autopilot for 20 minutes and just had a nap together after lunch…

I also scribbled up a lil cowboy one because I have a soft spot for them…

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Evening of Cowboy Curly, Red Wine and Creepcast <3

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Curly Headcanons

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-His real name is Grant, but a common nickname for him is Curly because of his hair.

-His mother stayed home to take care of him and his father was a lawyer. They both had high expectations of him, despite only being rich because they got inheritance from a rich relative. They were also very traditional.

-He’s Australian (voice claim is High Jackman as the Easter Bunny in Rise of The Guardians) and grew up on the Gold Coast in Queensland.

-Grant was really shy in Primary school, but he was smart and stayed out of trouble where he could help it because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

-He grew some charisma and confidence in high school, and got into bodybuilding, which made him popular (as well as having the kind of genes where all you have to do to look attractive is throw on a good outfit and wash your hair).

-Met Jimmy when he went to the bathroom one day and found him with a sprained wrist hiding in a cubicle. He offered to take him to the nurse’s office and gained his first actual friend.

-He was very charitable to Jimmy, despite Jimmy being too proud to admit accepting any of it. When he noticed Jimmy’s pencils getting short he would get him a new pack, when he noticed his shoes falling apart he would buy him a new pair, etc. This helped kick the bucket on Jimmy’s stealing problem.

-Wanted to go into nursing school, because he was a natural at that kind of work when he took a tester course while applying for colleges. But his parents scolded him for it because it “isn’t a man’s job”. So he ended up freighting for Pony Express to get away from his parents and figure out what he actually wanted to do. It became his full time job, leading to the midlife crisis in the game.

-His favourite food is shepards pie.

-Became friends with Anya and spends a lot of time in the medical room because of his regret about not going to nursing school. He planned to go after the freight in the game, but ofc that didn’t happen.

-Really into fitness and sports, he drinks a lot of protein shakes and had a home gym. He stopped going to actual gyms because he wanted to stay home as long as possible between trips for Pony Express. The only sport he couldn’t really master was surfing, which is ironic considering where he grew up.

-Still wears his half of a friendship necklace he got for him and Jimmy in high school after they graduated. He doesn’t think Jimmy wears his half anymore.

-Uses some Aussie slang that others on the ship don’t really know. (“She’ll be right”, ��going on smoko”, etc).

-Had a slight interest in cowboy stuff in college, he went to a few rodeos and owns a pair of cowboy boots and a hat. The belt that he wears on his uniform came from that phase too.

-Only went to Jimmy’s highschool because his parents wanted to save money. The excuse was “He’s smart enough, he doesn’t need an expensive school”.

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So many Jimmy scribbles, here’s a lil comp of smile-ish ones although the more i look at it the more he just looks puzzled or like he’s grimacing oopsie (suggested/prompted by @n0seblood :))

I also need to stop clawing my apple pencil when I hatch unless I want my wrists to shatter…

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Damn, as much as I love people slowly but surely exploring Curly and Jimmy's friendship and all the toxic and codependent shit there is to it, I DON'T like how people seem to infantilize Curly when it comes to his relationship with Jimmy. I get him being oblivious an letting a lot of things slide, but my dude would definitely caught on if he was genuinely treated like shit. I was on a receiving end of toxic friendships, and the tragedy of it (and of Jimmy and Curly by extension) is not being oblivious to abuse, it's about trying to convince yourself that good outweighs the bad, that your friend treated you like shit, yes, but he also done a lot for you back in the day, so you just let it slide this time. And another time. And the time after that. I genuinely believe that Jimmy cares and that his interactions with Curly are not always built on demeaning him or abusing him, he can be empathetic. And I also believe that Curly is a grown ass man, not an imbecile, and if Jimmy consistently treated him like shit, he would not stick by him the way he does in the story.

The tragedy of JimCurly is that they have good memories, they have good moments, but that doesn't stop the emotional (and post-crash, physical) abuse Jimmy inflicts, whatever reason he may have for that.

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POV: curly was your boyfriend before he went on that work trip (pre crash art and lil story)

I had this idea so it goes like this:

You're cozying up with Curly in bed after a fun night out, wanting to capture some sweet moments for your album. But Curly, still feeling the weight of the night and needing rest for a long-awaited trip, just wants to drift off to sleep

you couldn't resist playfully planting a series of gentle pecks on Curly’s face, each one making him groan in sleepy annoyance. Finally, you snapped a picture with the digital camera he gifted you for your birthday, capturing the perfect moment of mischievous love, despite his sleepy protests. “Come on sweetheart I have work tomorrow…”

9 months later, you stare at pictures you took wondering what life could’ve been with curly if he didn’t go on that work trip…

Guess that was my thought with this little pieces of art. Also I made the shirtless Jimmy post so I had to draw curly

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Grumpy old man

Jimmy from mouthwashing fanart by me

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Snakeskin boots and bullwhips <3

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Anya 💙💙

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Jimmy and Curly look so good🤭

These men won't let me go lmao

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Girl can we get Jimmy/Curly d!ck hcs and like…. Jacking off habits??!!! 🤷‍♀️☺️🫀

I will try anonie but know for the fact that I'm a super virgin and I've avoided real proper porn for years because I was scared LMAO. I have approximate understanding of what's going on down there but I love imagining meat beating hcs~

Warnings: nsfw obviously, gn reader, slight homophobia in Jimmy's part, Jimmy's part in general, mild dubious consent (you know where)

Side notes: there can be mistakes here and there I'm too tired to fix them~

Curly

— I would imagine his dick is really a sight to behold — it's truly a beautiful cock and our man could easily become a pornstar if he wanted to. When people who have seen him naked point this out, Curly bashfully downplays himself, but on the inside he feels proud and a bit excited by the thought lol. When he was younger he really entertained the idea, but as the years went by, the man considered himself to be too old for people's tastes (false he would roll in dough).

— It's bigger than average, slightly redder than Curly's skin, long and upright yet proportionally girthy. Curly doesn't trim but shaves when he returns back to Earth from hauls and right before starting a new haul. Yes, his pubic hair is also blond and it curls. Turns him on when you run your hand though it or tug at it lightly.

— Curly never had big sex drive so he didn't need to seek out sexual partners or masturbate much. With years it only decreased, he can go a whole week without touching himself, but otherwise it's a meager one-two times thing a week. Fortunately you can fix this problem if you have lots of sex regularly: this will cause Curly to masturbate up to four times a week especially without you around to "help" him out.

— usually masturbates in the shower. It all goes back when Curly was in highschool/college: after a training session or match he occasionally would masturbate in the common showers when he was alone. The guy just needed to relax his body and get rid of excess energy and emotions, besides it was hard to have any real privacy in the dorms anyways, so might as well — that's the explanations he would turn around in his head to excuse jerking off in semi-public space lmao. Curly actually almost got caught several times so he had to stop, but the habit of masturbating in the shower solidified itself already and it carried on to his work at Pony Express.

— I've read somewhere that Curly doesn't imagine anyone while he gets himself off and I agree. When he was young he would look up some models of adult magazines or pornstars. But after many years away from people, pretty much isolated in space, the man lost the ability to even conjure a sexy lady in his mind to jerk off too.... Curly closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of his own hand pleasing him and that's that.

— this changes with you: if Curly falls for you, now he subconsciously imagines you somewhere there, behind him with your head on his shoulder, slowly stroking him with your hand. The amount of guilt he feels dependents on the stage of your relationship. If you two are just coworkers, Curly reprimands himself mentally for being so filthy either before or after the act. Anyways now the captain can't jerk off without imagining you doing things to him. He tries to combat this by trying to befriend you, but this backfires when Curly catches feeling. Now he has to jerk off more than he usually does....

— he's quiet and stealthy kind. Not because the man is ashamed of masturbation, but because he has an image to keep and he doesn't want to make others uncomfortable. With that said, breathes and sighs heavily during the act, if Curly imagines you or you're actually there jerking him off, he may let out a few whimpers, and at least once slips out your name in a whisper.

— Curly likes to take things slow so it reflects on how he cums. He never stains his shirts with his own semen, everything just leaks down his dick and on his hand so he easily cleans himself and carries on with his day. Cums a lot and the cum is as thick as cream, which is a bit annoying to him to clean up~

Jimmy

— definitely an average dick haver. And I say this as a Jimmy fucker. Jimmy is not exactly all too happy about it but neither is he complaining...it could be worse. It's a shade or a few darker than his skin, not remarkable enough for people to go "wow" or "ew". Fortunately, Jimmy's dick gets a bit bigger when erect, it also curves and looks like a dog's snoot if you get what I mean.

— Jimmy is a hairy guy ok, this goes double for his tummy, crotch and legs. What do you say? Shaving...? What, do you think he's gay? Jimmy never shaves, the man grooms himself only when the pubic gets too long or feels gross to the touch when he masturbates. It's truly a great shame because Jim has a mole on the inner side of his thigh, right next to where his cock is, but it's hidden beneath thick dark hair.

— jacks off more than average man, however not enough for it to be a problem. Honestly he prefers sex to masturbation, but it's not always available for different reasons. Jimmy is not all that sex obsessed, but when the stress gets to him, it's his only option to release the pent up energy. His go to spot is his room/quarters. You'd think he would crank it anywhere and everywhere and you'd be wrong since Jimmy cares about what others think of him. The man just wants some privacy and gets incredibly irked when someone is disturbing him by knocking or calling out to him. Let the man jerk off in peace!!

— I can write a whole book about what Jimmy masturbates to. I think his tastes are not overly kinky like monster fucking or some extreme fetishes, but he can't be classified as vanilla. Sadism, brat taming, cnc, semi or fully public sex are his usual picks. Jimmy only needs the guy to be mostly silent and preferably not show his face too much otherwise it'll spoil the mood. Our man watches professionally recorded porn as well as amateurs, his dick doesn't discriminate. If you've managed to pique his attention, this would gradually resurface in his choice for porn. Actors looking vaguely like you, or having similar body, or voice.... Seeing someone looking just like you doing filthy stuff sends shivers down Jimmy's spine. Whenever he sees the real you, his mind immediately goes to the sex scenes he has seen "you" perform.

— Jimmy chases his high first, he spends little time for build-up so he cums pretty quickly. His focus is on the porn he is watching since his imagination is lacking believe it or not, just like his patience. Jim would heavily benefit from edging and orgasm denial but you must manhandle him first, he wouldn't consciously agree to this lol.

— groaner to a fault. Cusses too when he feels particularly agitated. Since Jimmy's pace is usually fast and uneven this creates those lewd wet noises. He does keep it at bay, not when he knows that you're around, because then he becomes louder just so you could hear and maybe join his jerk off session. Same goes for the other way around: if he hears or catches you getting yourself off, his hand dives for his own cock. Yup, Jimmy's definitely into mutual or "mutual" masturbation.

— Jimmy gets involuntarily messy. He tends to overheat when he masturbates, so he sweats a lot. This fact and his natural body odour can knock you off your feet if you're into that. Jim has to cover his dick, unless he is naked, because his cum really does shot out high and it's a hustle to constantly change and clean his clothes. Unlike Curly, he doesn't cum too much but his cum is stickier.

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Drew Jimmy as a Rockabilly Dude because it fits him and the fact he has haif that's perfect to style it into a pompadour with a duck's ass at the back. He looks more like a bastard that he is and he probably smells like musk and sweat with under that leather jacket... I'm delusional.

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"Back off. She's mine."

My brain is rotten by the amount of rom-com I've watched.

bonus Anya getting brain damage

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Jim and Curly

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kitty-yimpy