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you watch one tim curry movie and suddenly you’re having depraved thoughts.

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i wanna lock fox mulder, dale cooper, charlie eppes, and spencer reid in a room together and watch the world combust.

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have you ever thought about doing a nsfw alphabet for jack? would you ever do one?

hi anon! I’m actually not sure if I will, as I’ve never done one before and would be worried about it not turning out all that great. I would however like to write more smut scenarios for jack. I’m actually hoping to get something out for him sometime this month.

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📸 || More images from The Bare Magazine.

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simple revenge era lockscreens.

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MURDERBOT S01E10 - The Perimeter

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You should write a Jack Delroy x reader, where the reader gives Jack a rim job, fingers his ass, and finally fucks him with a strap-on.

👀 that sounds like such a delicious fucking idea anon, I can already picture reader just grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and pulling on it. I’m gonna add it to the list of jack smut ideas I plan to get around to this summer. thank yooou <3

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as much as I love sadistic jack delroy, I also have this strong desire to see him get absolutely fucked up. I’m talking about bruises and teeth marks littering his pale skin while he openly sobs against you. reducing this once charismatic talk show star to nothing but whimpers.

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…I kinda wanna write about Jack Delroy eating reader out at studio 54 👀.

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thanks for the tag <3 @mothhball

tagging: @accidentally-in-fictional-love @polkadotjohnson @verylightsheep and @upstartgeek

pinterest tag game

type: aesthetic, character, colour, movie, lyrics and celebrity into your pinterest to find your vibe

thank you for the tag @ghotifishreads

tagging @runnning-outof-time @zablife @cillmequick

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Do you know someone who writes David Dastmalchian’s characters with a child reader? I know some fans would love to read cute fan fiction of Jack Delroy as an overprotective father.

hi anon, I’ll be honest I don’t know anyone who would. I don’t see too many people write for jack delroy these days either. sorry I couldn’t be of much help.

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Dancing Around my Mind

Pairing - Jack Delroy x Fem!Reader

Summary - Jack shouldn't want you this much...

Word Count - 1.4k

Warnings - no use of y/n, fem anatomy, fem pronouns, implied age gap (reader is in their 20's), smut (op tried): masturbation, palming, ejaculation, creep behavior, pathetic horny jack, swearing, mentions of drinking, semi proofread, MDNI

A/N - guess who rose from her fucking coffin. im gonna be honest the only thing that got me through writing this was listening to early 2000s girl pop. might do a part two idk yet.

God must have cursed him, it was the only explanation. 

Your manicured hand was lazily flipping through a magazine, the maroon polish complimenting the hue of your skin. The hot, white stage lights beamed down on your exposed legs, as the vibrant dress you donned came to your knee. Even from his place on the stage – flushed from sitting beneath the harsh spotlight – the scent of your floral, powdery perfume managed to follow him. He swallowed, watching as your glossed lips parted, a drawn out yawn causing you to shift in your seat. 

Then, your disinterested eyes flickered up at him. 

Jack cleared his throat, glancing back down at the script in his lap. The busy sound of the crew surrounded him, their demands coming out like barks as they dressed the stage. 

“Tell me you’ve got it down this time, Jack.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” Leo hummed, tapping his cigarette out in the ornate ashtray on the coffee table. 

“Do you really think glaring at her is a smart idea?” he asked, briefly glancing over at him, already reaching into his pocket for another cigarette. 

“I’m not glaring at her,” Jack muttered, staring down at the script. He had been struggling all morning to memorize his lines, as he could feel the heat of your presence constantly pressing into him. 

“She’s the executive producer's daughter,” Leo argued, balancing an unlit cigarette between his lips. “So, just play nice until she leaves, alright? The last thing we need to deal with is shit from her father.” 

Jack sighed, but reluctantly nodded. His eyes caught sight of you again, your fingertips now toying with the edge of your dress. 

You were young and just fresh out of college, hoping to learn your way around the film industry. Apparently your father had the bright idea of letting you sit on the sideline, and see how things worked behind the camera. A real “learning” experience. 

“You won’t even notice she’s there, Jack.” 

He snorted, peeking over at you only to find your bright eyes already on him. A soft, friendly smile bloomed across your face, as you wiggled your fingers at him. His stomach fluttered at the sight, muddling his brain. Jack cleared his throat, shifting his gaze away as his assistant approached clutching onto a clipboard. 

“They’re ready to begin taping, Mr Delroy.” 

Jack sighed, and rose from his seat, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket. Soon the audience coordinator would stroll in, and lead a line of people to their seats. 

Leo stood up and clapped him on the shoulder.

It was finally showtime. 

Throughout the episode Jack constantly found his eyes sweeping over the dim faces of the audience, only to land directly back on you and your intrigued expression. He Lapped up your attentive, wide eyes like a starved dog. When a joke would land, and cause a smile to bloom across your face he found himself leaning into it, until he could hear the chime of your laughter beside him. The sound continued to haunt the corners of his mind throughout the commercial breaks, echoing inside of him like a broken loop. 

When taping came to an end for the day, and he looked out at the audience as their applause washed over him, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Yet he could hear you as you stood with the spectators, clapping along with them. Your existence lodged itself into his side, much like a thorn on a pretty rose. 

It…bothered him. Twisting his core even when the stage lights dimmed, and the viewers were led out of their seats. Even when he finally braced himself to take a peek backstage, only to find you long gone. The fragrance of your perfume being the only thing left behind, as if you were hellbent on taunting him. 

“Is everything alright, Jack?” Gus asked, sidling up beside him backstage. 

Jack could only nod, as he needlessly fixed his appearance in the mirror, giving his restless hands a distraction. 

“It’s just…” Gus trailed off, fiddling with his tie as he thought to himself. “It’s just you looked a little distracted at times and I think the audience could tell.” 

“I’ll fucking say, man,” Leo exclaimed, appearing in front of him, holding a cigarette. “What was that performance? You even went off script at one point.” 

Jack closed his eyes, clenching his jaw as their voices drilled into his temple. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, as he mentally cursed at himself. What the fuck was he doing? It was almost laughable, how eager and desperate his actions must have looked. 

“I just need some rest,” he muttered, avoiding their gaze.Gus and Leo watched him, their eyes searching his expression for any sign of a crack that might let them in on something.

Jack sighed. “Also a fucking a drink.”  

Which is exactly what he did. During the drive home Jack found himself constantly licking his lips, parched for a smooth glass of anything. When he arrived he immediately went to sit back in  his home office, gazing out at the window at the setting sun as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand. Golden light splashed over the warm interior of his office, a welcoming change from the white lights of the studio. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat as he took a swift sip from the glass. The bitter liquid coated his mouth, burning his throat as he swallowed. 

Safe at home, from cameras and wandering eyes, he let his mind wander back to you. The way your legs spilled out from the tight fitting dress you wore, one wrapped over the other. Your teeth tugging at your bottom lip whenever you become engrossed in the magazine. He focused on that prior image of you, envisioning those soft glossed lips of yours on him. Maybe you would nip at his skin, eager to leave behind a mark of your existence. A reminder for him that you were there…once. 

Jack harshly swallowed, tilting his back against the seat. Fuck, or maybe you would wrap your manicured fingers around his throat, ever so slowly applying pressure. Your dark eyes watching him, daring him to think about anything else but you. As if he ever could, if he had you near him. 

Jack let his hand wander to his thigh– imagining it was you–  before resting it over his zipper. He began to palm himself through his suit pants, to the picture of you on his lap, teasing him. To your coy smile, and eyes flitting up to his face, as you slowly sank down on his length. 

A low, deep whine emitted from the back of his throat as Jack felt himself grow eager. Suddenly, his suit felt too contracting, the fabric tightening around him. He placed his drink on the desk, and swiftly undid his belt and zipper, before harshly shifting his pants and underwear down. He spit in his hand, and desperately wrapped his hand around his hardened length. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, shuddering at the feeling. 

He thought back to you again, replying to the fabricated image of you rocking your hips over his. The sound of your pants, and low groans, demanding him to remain still. Fuck, you would probably feel so warm against him. Jack bucked his hips up into his hand, feeling his stomach coil as he quickened his pace. He thought of your pussy dripping around him, slick from your own arousal as you tirelessly rode him. Titties bouncing as you chased your own high, your eyes always trained on him. Your hand squeezing at his throat, dead set on bruising his delicate skin. 

Jack hissed, tightly squeezing his eyes. “God fucking damnit.” 

Pressure soon began to build up inside of him, as he continued to stroke his dick to the thought of you. His mouth fell open, as he openly moaned out loud. The sound was shameless, as it echoed inside his empty office. 

He came to the vision of your eyes rolling back. His orgasm suddenly washed over him much too soon, as he let out a guttural groan, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside of him. Buried beneath the stress, and exhaustion of work and reading countless scripts. 

Jack panted, as he peeled his eyes open to stare up at the bland ceiling. The sultry image of you waltzed off, finally allowing him some peace of mind for the first time today. He looked down at his lap, flushing at the sight of the slick mess he made in his palm. 

Shame pooled inside of him, causing his stomach to lurch. 

Fuck, he was screwed.

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Dancing Around my Mind

Pairing - Jack Delroy x Fem!Reader

Summary - Jack shouldn't want you this much...

Word Count - 1.4k

Warnings - no use of y/n, fem anatomy, fem pronouns, implied age gap (reader is in their 20's), smut (op tried): masturbation, palming, ejaculation, creep behavior, pathetic horny jack, swearing, mentions of drinking, semi proofread, MDNI

A/N - guess who rose from her fucking coffin. im gonna be honest the only thing that got me through writing this was listening to early 2000s girl pop. might do a part two idk yet.

God must have cursed him, it was the only explanation. 

Your manicured hand was lazily flipping through a magazine, the maroon polish complimenting the hue of your skin. The hot, white stage lights beamed down on your exposed legs, as the vibrant dress you donned came to your knee. Even from his place on the stage – flushed from sitting beneath the harsh spotlight – the scent of your floral, powdery perfume managed to follow him. He swallowed, watching as your glossed lips parted, a drawn out yawn causing you to shift in your seat. 

Then, your disinterested eyes flickered up at him. 

Jack cleared his throat, glancing back down at the script in his lap. The busy sound of the crew surrounded him, their demands coming out like barks as they dressed the stage. 

“Tell me you’ve got it down this time, Jack.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” Leo hummed, tapping his cigarette out in the ornate ashtray on the coffee table. 

“Do you really think glaring at her is a smart idea?” he asked, briefly glancing over at him, already reaching into his pocket for another cigarette. 

“I’m not glaring at her,” Jack muttered, staring down at the script. He had been struggling all morning to memorize his lines, as he could feel the heat of your presence constantly pressing into him. 

“She’s the executive producer's daughter,” Leo argued, balancing an unlit cigarette between his lips. “So, just play nice until she leaves, alright? The last thing we need to deal with is shit from her father.” 

Jack sighed, but reluctantly nodded. His eyes caught sight of you again, your fingertips now toying with the edge of your dress. 

You were young and just fresh out of college, hoping to learn your way around the film industry. Apparently your father had the bright idea of letting you sit on the sideline, and see how things worked behind the camera. A real “learning” experience. 

“You won’t even notice she’s there, Jack.” 

He snorted, peeking over at you only to find your bright eyes already on him. A soft, friendly smile bloomed across your face, as you wiggled your fingers at him. His stomach fluttered at the sight, muddling his brain. Jack cleared his throat, shifting his gaze away as his assistant approached clutching onto a clipboard. 

“They’re ready to begin taping, Mr Delroy.” 

Jack sighed, and rose from his seat, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket. Soon the audience coordinator would stroll in, and lead a line of people to their seats. 

Leo stood up and clapped him on the shoulder.

It was finally showtime. 

Throughout the episode Jack constantly found his eyes sweeping over the dim faces of the audience, only to land directly back on you and your intrigued expression. He Lapped up your attentive, wide eyes like a starved dog. When a joke would land, and cause a smile to bloom across your face he found himself leaning into it, until he could hear the chime of your laughter beside him. The sound continued to haunt the corners of his mind throughout the commercial breaks, echoing inside of him like a broken loop. 

When taping came to an end for the day, and he looked out at the audience as their applause washed over him, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Yet he could hear you as you stood with the spectators, clapping along with them. Your existence lodged itself into his side, much like a thorn on a pretty rose. 

It…bothered him. Twisting his core even when the stage lights dimmed, and the viewers were led out of their seats. Even when he finally braced himself to take a peek backstage, only to find you long gone. The fragrance of your perfume being the only thing left behind, as if you were hellbent on taunting him. 

“Is everything alright, Jack?” Gus asked, sidling up beside him backstage. 

Jack could only nod, as he needlessly fixed his appearance in the mirror, giving his restless hands a distraction. 

“It’s just…” Gus trailed off, fiddling with his tie as he thought to himself. “It’s just you looked a little distracted at times and I think the audience could tell.” 

“I’ll fucking say, man,” Leo exclaimed, appearing in front of him, holding a cigarette. “What was that performance? You even went off script at one point.” 

Jack closed his eyes, clenching his jaw as their voices drilled into his temple. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, as he mentally cursed at himself. What the fuck was he doing? It was almost laughable, how eager and desperate his actions must have looked. 

“I just need some rest,” he muttered, avoiding their gaze.Gus and Leo watched him, their eyes searching his expression for any sign of a crack that might let them in on something.

Jack sighed. “Also a fucking a drink.”  

Which is exactly what he did. During the drive home Jack found himself constantly licking his lips, parched for a smooth glass of anything. When he arrived he immediately went to sit back in  his home office, gazing out at the window at the setting sun as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand. Golden light splashed over the warm interior of his office, a welcoming change from the white lights of the studio. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat as he took a swift sip from the glass. The bitter liquid coated his mouth, burning his throat as he swallowed. 

Safe at home, from cameras and wandering eyes, he let his mind wander back to you. The way your legs spilled out from the tight fitting dress you wore, one wrapped over the other. Your teeth tugging at your bottom lip whenever you become engrossed in the magazine. He focused on that prior image of you, envisioning those soft glossed lips of yours on him. Maybe you would nip at his skin, eager to leave behind a mark of your existence. A reminder for him that you were there…once. 

Jack harshly swallowed, tilting his back against the seat. Fuck, or maybe you would wrap your manicured fingers around his throat, ever so slowly applying pressure. Your dark eyes watching him, daring him to think about anything else but you. As if he ever could, if he had you near him. 

Jack let his hand wander to his thigh– imagining it was you–  before resting it over his zipper. He began to palm himself through his suit pants, to the picture of you on his lap, teasing him. To your coy smile, and eyes flitting up to his face, as you slowly sank down on his length. 

A low, deep whine emitted from the back of his throat as Jack felt himself grow eager. Suddenly, his suit felt too contracting, the fabric tightening around him. He placed his drink on the desk, and swiftly undid his belt and zipper, before harshly shifting his pants and underwear down. He spit in his hand, and desperately wrapped his hand around his hardened length. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, shuddering at the feeling. 

He thought back to you again, replying to the fabricated image of you rocking your hips over his. The sound of your pants, and low groans, demanding him to remain still. Fuck, you would probably feel so warm against him. Jack bucked his hips up into his hand, feeling his stomach coil as he quickened his pace. He thought of your pussy dripping around him, slick from your own arousal as you tirelessly rode him. Titties bouncing as you chased your own high, your eyes always trained on him. Your hand squeezing at his throat, dead set on bruising his delicate skin. 

Jack hissed, tightly squeezing his eyes. “God fucking damnit.” 

Pressure soon began to build up inside of him, as he continued to stroke his dick to the thought of you. His mouth fell open, as he openly moaned out loud. The sound was shameless, as it echoed inside his empty office. 

He came to the vision of your eyes rolling back. His orgasm suddenly washed over him much too soon, as he let out a guttural groan, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside of him. Buried beneath the stress, and exhaustion of work and reading countless scripts. 

Jack panted, as he peeled his eyes open to stare up at the bland ceiling. The sultry image of you waltzed off, finally allowing him some peace of mind for the first time today. He looked down at his lap, flushing at the sight of the slick mess he made in his palm. 

Shame pooled inside of him, causing his stomach to lurch. 

Fuck, he was screwed.

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denise bryson my beloved ♥ i love drawing her

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*gripping my laptop* Im going to finish writing this jack delroy smut even if it kills me...

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i know what this situation needs…explicit fanfiction