#I was writing this in a hurry.

[sephsbat]

I've seen people talk about their conversations or experiences with their deities, and I wanted to make something very clear. You don't need to communicate to your deities. Do you think that people back then would just casually talk to the gods on a regular basis? No. They would go to their temples, pray, and give them offerings, and went along with their day hoping the gods heard them.

You don't need to overthink it. Go do some research, make an altar/shrine for whichever deity you want to devote to or worship. If you can't, you can always do some devotional acts. Go to a flea market or go to a mall, and when you look at something and think "Wow, that reminds me of [deity's name]" or "That's something I can totally see [deity's name] wearing," that's a devotional act.

Read their myths, stories, and even fictional shows or movies about them, even if they're depicted as evil or not. Read books or novels about them, good or bad. Pray to them for whatever reason, whether it's for protection or for anything else you can think of. Yes, communication is important, but you shouldn't be hard on yourself for not knowing how to or being able to.

[choccy-milky]

NSFW comic ive been wanting to do for a while of seb getting…influenced…by the dark relic👀👀no idea how long its gonna be or how long itll take, so have a wip for now 🙃

[wistfulwilds]

SETTING: you are a vahumana student trying to conduct your research and a certain haravatat scribe enjoys arguing with you.

RELATIONSHIPS: alhaitham x gn!reader

♥ — like his mother and father before him, alhaitham gravitates toward vahumana students despite the rivalry in darshans. when asked about it, he plainly states he enjoys the discussion.

♥ — you, in particular, put up a fair argument against him. while chastised by his roommate for going out of his way to pick arguments, alhaitham merely stated the following: "not everyone is as sensitive as you. some of us enjoy a good debate."

♥ — sure, maybe he finds himself watching you when you go about your normal research. he's curious what topic your studying — but not because he cares, no. it gives him a good starting point to argue why it would be better from a haravatat standpoint instead of vahumana.

♥ — yes, that is the only reason why he wants to know, kusanali. no amount of mind reading would say otherwise.

♥ — that's because alhaitham isn't one for feelings nor recognizing them. he finds it easy to identify things in the moment, such as enjoyment from annoying you and the way your face scrunches up to defend your argument being... cute, in his own inner monologuing. he wouldn't want to trade the relationship you two share in the brief moments you set aside to debate.

♥ — maybe debating is a love language for him. maybe he just likes to argue. regardless, he keeps finding new ways to engage with your field of study through his own for the chance to spend time with you.

♥ — when it comes time to present your finished work to be sent to the house of daena, you expect alhaitham to make some passing comment about how this would work better under this lens and how haravatat is better than vahumana.

♥ — instead, all alhaitham offers is a small smile he rarely wears and an "excellent work. you did a good job."

[batllethinker]

Can I request for something with boyfriend Leah meeting a model reader at a fashion show and Leah chasing her all night to at least get her number, and obviously she does ;)

Cherry Flavored | L.W

Pairing: Leah Williamson + model reader

Summary: Leah hasn't been able to take her eyes off of you since the night begun and she doesn't really want to

Warnings: pre established relationship, meet cute, Leah is kind of a loser, reader is super bold, they basically fuck in a bar, suggestive content | 18+ mdni

A/N: this went off the rails, and definitely isn't the request, so sorry 😅

She hadn't been able to take her eyes off of you since you first stepped onto the runway, and the first thing she did after finding out your name was to follow you on every social.

Leah had followed you with her eyes ever since you had come to mingle from backstage, you really were the most captivating person she had ever seen.

It was only because of a nudge from her friends and seeing you all alone by the bar that she had the courage to approach you, although nervously.

Standing behind you she was kind of just hoping that you would notice her but ofcourse she would have no such luck.

"Uhm, hi!" Awkwardly waiting for you to turn around, she gave an even more awkward smile once you did meet her gaze. "I'm, I'm Leah"

You gave her a charming, award winning smile as you took an once-over of her outfit before meeting her bright eyes once again.

"Leah, I do know who you are" you chuckled, turning your whole body to where she was still awkwardly standing, "miss european champion"

Watching in amusement as she blushed bright red, fidgeting nervously with her rings as you very obviously checked her out. You loved the fact that you stood taller than her, which made it really easy to take in every single detail of her, and god, the way she looked up at you.

"I. I don't like to brag but that's me" Leah gave a sheepish smile before finally deciding to order a drink, and you couldn't help but admire her drink of choice. Everything about her was admirable, really.

"So, why are you here? Talking to me?" You raised an eyebrow as the other woman flustered, stumbling over her words before gathering herself somewhat.

"Oh, uhm, you're just like – really pretty and uh, I apparently couldn't stop talking about you" embarrassed was the only way you could describe her as the blonde shrunk into herself, which you promptly put a stop to with a hand on her forearm, briefly admiring just how firm she felt in your hand.

Her wide eyes met yours again, face painted in what seemed a permanent blush, tensing slightly as you pulled her against you.

"You're cute and I'm really flattered" giving her a small smile, you gently cupped her cheeks, smile widening when she immediately melted into you.

"Thank you.." Biting her lip to keep herself from breaking out into the biggest smile, she just nuzzles into your hand instead. You were sure that if anyone saw you two right now they would think that you were a couple.

"Leah, can I kiss you?" The blondes eyes widened before giving you a brief nod, eyes already closing as you lean down just enough to press your lips against hers.

Humming softly against her, just loving the way she felt against you, how eager she was to kiss you as you were pressed against the bar counter, her tongue licking across your lower lip just enough for you to open your mouth.

Cherry. She tasted like cherries and you couldn't get enough, your grip tightening on her as you pulled her closer, thigh slipping in between her legs, carefully pressing up against her.

The other woman gasped into your mouth, hips jerking against your thigh before you started to pull away, unable to keep your smile at bay when she whined.

"Leah..we should maybe go somewhere more private" she nodded, taking a few moments to catch her breath before downing her drink.

"Yeah, let's go" you chuckled as you watched her, before taking her hand and dragging her out of the venue and to your car.

You just knew that whatever the outcome, it would be beautiful and several articles would be written.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Just came up with the most beautiful fic plot. Characters A and B like each other. Character C knows they like each other but has been sworn to secrecy on the matter by both parties. A and B will both often separately ask C to help them spend time with each other by doing things like making plans for the three of them, then cancelling at the last minute, or asking them to go run an errand for them, or conveniently sending them to the same location on the same day.

[pup-pee]

bart having 2 learn how 2 run again would ruin me

[gunsatthaphan]

🥹🫳🏻🧸

[propussyslayer]

sooo when are the "teacher izuku x parent katsuki" fanfics coming

[whumblr]

Taken

For @mayhem-in-mordor who wondered what happened when Roman took Dani :))

Prev chapter: Punishment - pt 1 here

-

“Stop! Stop right there!”

The quick racking of the gun cracked across walls of the concrete room and Roman stopped dead in his tracks. His head tipped down, shoulders slumped and he let out an annoyed sigh while he threw his hands up, as if being held at gunpoint was a mere inconvenience. Slowly, drawling, stalling, he turned to face Dani, hands still in the air but dropped them to his side as he looked her over.

“That gun...” he started and began to circle her like the predator he was. “Did you take it from him?” And he nodded at the unconscious man in the blue shirt behind her.

Dani knew better than to look back.

“Yes.” She side-stepped along with him, stepping over the paper folders strewn out over the floor, some still smoldering, an attempt to destroy evidence, research. The smoke teased her nostrils, prickled her eyes. She didn’t even blink and kept the gun trained on him. Right in-between the eyes, no more missing vitals.

He nodded, silent for a few more steps. Then a smirk formed on his lips like he couldn’t contain it any longer. He tipped his head down, leering at her, and dramatically whispered a single word: “Empty.”

Dani didn't hesitate and immediately pulled the trigger to call that bluff. Only to be met by a disappointing click. And no hole in his forehead.

His eyes narrowed in glee. He threw his hands up again, almost in mock surrender but with his palms up and gave a theatrical shrug. Dani bristled and sharply inhaled to keep her calm; their cockiness and annoyance had switched sides at that click, as had her advantage. But she gave a small shrug in reply.

“Fine.” She launched forward, charging at him. She changed her grip on the gun, twirling it by the trigger guard, catching it in a claw and aimed a wide slap right at his face.

He dodged effortlessly, with that goddamn arrogant smirk that she wanted to punch off. Caught the follow-up punch in the palm of his hand and twisted her arm away. She immediately snapped free with a twist, used the momentum to aim another back-handed strike with the gun as she twirled.

“Whoa!”

At least that indicated that she was close. Though she’d prefer an exclamation of pain. Still, she’d shock his arrogant taunting right of him. To her surprise, he didn’t run. Probably knew he was at a disadvantage there. She’d easily catch up. But in close combat, he could shift the advantage to him, or tire her out as he didn’t seem to be interested in going for a killing blow. Yet.

They continued their dance of swerving and dodging, occasionally interrupted by a grunt when one of them hit home. Though her moves were smooth and elegant, she wasn’t above fighting dirty. Whenever the chance presented itself, she jabbed at his eyes or throat, went for the junk, but nothing hit home. Yet. She only broke her calm when she heard a soft scoff and saw his lips curl after he dodged a punch again, and she threw the gun full force at his smug face. Went right over his shoulder.

“This is the third time you’ve messed up my research,” he said.

“Maybe you should stop breaking the law.”

He let out a non-committed hum as he swerved. “Maybe you shouldn’t let your guard down.”

And before she could even question that in her mind, let alone snarl out the words, he side-stepped just behind her, his back to her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him twist towards her, the flurry of his elbow moving up, forearm straight as an arrow as it readied for the—

A sharp jab snapped against the side of her neck. And the control over her body slipped away from her from the neck down. Her entire body tensed up first, then just as fast completely released the grip on every muscle. Her knees buckled first. All she could do was inhale a shocked little gasp, curse at herself and Roman in her mind before everything turned to static. And luckily the world went black before she even hit the floor.

-

Roman watched as if in slow motion as the girl toppled forward. He resisted the body-jerk reaction to catch her, knowing she could still snap up and claw his eyes out if his blow was merely an inch off. Only when she landed face-forward without even moving to soften the landing against the hard concrete, it assured him the fight was over.

He simply stared at her for a few seconds, hesitating, not quite sure what to do. This would probably not render her unconscious for long. And judging by the continued muffled gunfire on the upper floors, she wasn’t alone. He didn’t have much time to decide.

A pang of frustration shot through him as he glanced up, struck by the state of the now ruined room. His ruined research. He glared at the unconscious girl at his feet, a growl in his exhale. He was going to have to lay low for a while. And that rushed him into his decision.

He squatted down next to her. Swiped over her pockets, fished her phone from her brown leather jacket and threw it hard to the floor. Patted her down to make sure she didn’t have anything else on her that could lead them to follow him.

With a grunt, he threw the dead weight over his shoulder and carried her out, down to the underground parking. Shifted her further onto his shoulder as he searched for his car keys. Opened the rear door, stopped, and closed it again. Yeah, no. You wouldn’t keep a feral animal loose in your car. She’d probably try to strangle him with the seatbelt from behind. Or even if he’d had anything to cuff her with, she’d throw her legs over the seat to pin him until they crashed. She’d proven her tenacity over these last three rounds of meetings. And that chop to the neck wouldn’t last the entire journey. Better go for the safe route. So instead, he opened the trunk and dropped her inside without much care.

-

The familiar crunches of grit under his tires and under his shoes a long ride later greeted him home. Good to know that even after quite a while, those sounds still triggered a feeling of home-coming in his brain. Might be something to look into... Later.

Roman slowly walked around the car, keeping his eyes on the trunk, not sure what to expect. There was no banging at the lid or cursing or demands to let her out. Yet he doubted she was still unconscious.

He carefully opened up, hand on the lid to keep her from further busting it open. Oh yes, she was awake. Through the small opening he could see the fury glint in her eyes, staring straight at him. She looked like an angry cat in her basket. If she could, she’d hiss at him, he mused. But he was surprised to see she didn’t spit anything at him, no insults, no saliva. In fact, she cowed back a little and lay all curled up. Somewhat reassured, he fully opened the trunk, leaned forward to drag her out.

A long leg suddenly shot out, and it hit him square in the stomach.

It punched the air – and the snide remark that was on the tip of his tongue – right out of him. He doubled over, hand still on the lid of the trunk pulling it down with him as he almost buckled. It nearly hit the girl right on the head, but in a flurry of movement she managed to snake out, bump him aside, and shot past.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he brought out, and caught her by the neck of her shirt.

She twisted free and he grabbed her arm instead. She replied with a headbutt. Missed and Roman followed up with a backhanded swing.

A yelp as he caught her full in the face and knocked her off her feet. She heavily crashed onto the grit and he immediately closed in, grabbing her shirt.

Dani didn’t hesitate. Like the fierce cat she was she almost literally clawed up around him, grasping him by the arm, threw her legs up and locked them around his head, pulling herself up.

Roman caught her in surprise, one hand still in her shirt, the other arm around her back as he secured her in reflex. Luckily for him, she didn’t have the momentum to pull him down and they stared at each other, caught in an impasse. If he let her fall, she’d drag him right along.

“We let go,” he said calmly, negotiating his release, “at the same time.”

“Duel at sunset,” she growled, and squeezed her legs but nodded.

“One… two…”

With her legs up and him protecting her from gravity, he felt like he had the overwhelming advantage here. But as he let go of her on “Three!” her back arched and she slithered gracefully from his arms, again not unlike a cat, letting herself fall to the ground in a dive. She landed on her palms, lightly sprang off against his shoulders, and shot away in an elegant back handspring, spiraling off of him with grace. He had to admit, he was impressed, and his lips tugged into a smirk.

It lost him two seconds of precious reaction time. As her feet touched the ground and she straightened, one foot immediately shot back up. Hit him right in the chin. But the hit came at a cost and with her on one leg wobbling on the pebbles straining for balance, he saw his chance. He sank down to a squat, shot out a leg and aimed at her ankle, kicking her foot right out from under her.

He watched as her eyes went wide and he immediately followed up to keep his advantage as she lost the battle with gravity. Finally. Her back crashed into the sea of grit, punched out a grunt. Another kick in the stomach didn’t deter him. Hands flailed, clawed at his face, her moves betraying a certain panic that let him know he was winning and he only had to wait for the right moment until he could calmly catch a wrist and use the momentum to twist her onto her front.

One firm hand on her neck pressed her face into the sharp pebbles, the other twisted her arm up, slowly tearing the ligaments in her shoulder until she yelped.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” he almost growled out a disappointed sigh.

She took full advantage of the little leeway he offered her to reply; twisted her head until she could – painfully – make eye contact, she smiled sweetly and spat right in his face. “It is.”

-

Continued here

Tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpy-daydreams

@whumpyourdamnpears @auroragehenna @alsolucakairomi @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumppmuhw

@untethered-symphony @withdrawingramen @theforeverdyingperson @treasureguardingdragon

[fortheharbingers]

(best friend!narumi gen au, no kaiju, he is ruining my life i-. gn!reader btw)

Your back against the wall, perched on the counter, Narumi Gen holds you in place with both hands at your sides.

Transfixed by the sight of your hands, your faint breathing with every small movement, overwhelmed by the feeling of you around him even if it’s just so little.

His gaze falling down, following your line of sight and he watches how you slowly pull him in and out, careful movements, your delicate hand now grabbing at his cock but still there is a gentleness in the midst of your shared desperation.

As the feeling grows, he feels himself snapping out of it and chuckles- “Hey”

His voice comes out in a rasp, “didn’t we- ah, say just the tip?” He tries to play it cool, to conceal that he doesn’t really mind going all the way.

How can he, when he has gotten a taste of being so deep inside of you already? But since you said at the beginning—

You let out a small laugh at him then, his words and expressions contradicting one another, not to mention his body aching for more.

Your head thrown back as much as the small space allows you to, offering him a great angle of your neck with your eyes closed and a playful smile hanging on your lips, you wait like that for a second until you lean back into him.

There is nothing innocent about the way you look at him but that’s a deduction he can only make with experience. Big eyes with a glint to them and a small smile that is barely a pout, “Well…” you drag the word like honey, your head tilted to the sight.

“I thought since you’re so good to me,” you straighten up again, dragging your nails along his length, “and always eager to help…” he feels a shudder down his spine when he feels your fingers, cold and barely touching his skin, burning where they leave—

“It’d be so rude of me to not reward you- for being such a good friend and after all this tease, no?” You speak the words like you’re asking to give him the answers to a final, offering to share your lunch with him.

Your fingers come to a halt and Narumi feels your grip on him again, slowly bringing the tip of his cock to your entrance. Your other hand comes up to his cheek, thumb grazing over him.

“And you did say you could fuck me better than that guy, no? Narumi groans at the sudden intrusion and thrust of your hips- your walls contracting around him and his cock wrapped in your warmth. The contrast of your speed compared to what you’ve been doing all night long has him feeling light headed.

His head falling, supported by your palm only, he smiles at nothing, breathy-

Your other hand slowly goes up to his hair, your fingers fiddling with the strands for a second, pushing them back like he usually stylizes them.

You stroke once then grip at his hair and tug him back the second time, “Let’s put it to test, shall we?” You grin at the man and pull him in for a kiss.

[creamecafe]

you know you're getting older when you start to feel icky writing about fictional characters when they're canonically teenagers even if the actors an adult irl

[sysig]

Obviously I had to make it a thing (Patreon)

Spoilers for Handplates! Make sure you’re all caught up before continuing!

I ended up scene-picking around the timeline at pretty-much-random, whatever I thought fit the lyrics the best in the moment of blinding inspiration (lol), but now that I’ve got the basics down to paper, I think I’d more carefully choose in mostly-chronological order. That also means some would have to be cut, so I want to show them off here! :D I also drew them all from memory so if there’s inconsistencies, that’s why lol

For example this is one of the very early lyrics, but the events take place well down the timeline! I’m sure I can find a good stand in - mostly I just wanted to draw Papyrus from this scene, ugh I love him ♥ And the lyrics do fit!

Looking back to Sans for reassurance haha. I changed a few of the lyrics to be more Papyrus-specific -

- also featured here! He’s got the Gaster pose going on here hehe, and cutting around in time of him in Snowdin and also back at Asgore’s, him reassuring Asgore about Sans’ HP is so cute, I had to make reference to it haha

Happiest little sibling spinnies <3 <3 Probably the cutest panel of the whole bunch honestly haha ♥ Their little faces!! Ugh 💕

One of those instances of the lyrical contradictions, and I think I would keep this jump forward - everything has changed! And they’re really not okay, but they have each other

The one makes me laugh honestly, a bit dark lol. All their safe people, except for the two that take up the rear of each. I mean, technically it’s not inaccurate with Flowey’s, he won’t be alone! Unfortunately. The human, well

Started settling into a rhythm by this point, and rather pleased for it :) Poor Papyrus! He didn’t do anything wrong and he still has all these sad feelings about it!

All catching up to him :( You can only run from and ignore your problems for so long - this line feels so him, dealing with what their world is and all that entails, poorly

I appreciate the fact that Papyrus has this dream several times, it fits lots of places! Gaster look what you did to him even when you don’t exist anymore

Papyrus as an adult! Though he also is in the one with him and Sans dream-sharing. Things start breaking real bad for him, I’m still not over how good this song is lol

I did admittedly go a little over-the-top with these, he was not crying this much but I just jsalfdjfds this scene is so- much. So much! The lyrics goaded me, blame them haha - and also the attention to his neck! Even if it’s not in reference to choking on tears specifically, still drawn to the same place! I love Sans going to comfort him as well as rally him ahhhhh

I got his Soul glitches wrong haha, but seriously! This song, I swear!!

A bit of irony - he’s being heard! So much! Just not listened to. I am so enamoured with his pose callbacks throughout the entire comic ugh, so beautifully done

Handing off the song for a moment to someone who actually can rewind it - I don’t think I’ve ever drawn a Genocide Run human now that I think of it :0 It was so satisfying to draw Gaster kneeling on the ground like that haha, contact points were - on point ✨ for this doodle session hehehe

Originally I had his glow coloured in purple but this was one that I actually went back to look at (because I love this scene so much hhgggg <3 <3 <3) and had to change to his natural colour - he deserves it!! He’s earned it!!

I’ve honestly fallen more in love with this song through him and vice versa haha ♪ It’d be quite a bit before/if I could make a full version, even just with what I’ve got here, but it was so fun to draw at all ♥

[ghastlybirdie]

I went grocery shopping and couldn’t be bothered to carry everything bit by bit to the third floor so I had six heavy bags between each arm and carrying two crates of more groceries as well as my purse and giant whiteboard so it was a great struggle to climb to the third floor

So I fantasized about that mutton chop neighbor again

Imagining that he comes outside his apartment, maybe to grab mail, and seeing you struggling with an absurd amount of groceries, grunting and whining about how heavy everything is

So he rushed to you and scoops away the crates of fruits and snatches three of the bags from you as you stumbled down the narrow hall

You exclaim in some graceless manner, equally surprised and relieved at your arms being freed

“Ya got quite the armful, love?” He asked, unbothered by the weight load and awkward armholds. John, he introduced himself as when he beat down the door some weeks ago, asked for the rest of the bags. Even if you denied again and again he won’t concede until he’s removed everything but your purse from your hands.

It sounded near like an order when he told you to lead the way, one more flight of steps won’t kill him he says, before gesturing with his eyes. You won’t try to think about how little space he gave you to pass him by in the narrow hall, making no effort to move. You chalk it up to him hands being completely full, despite his entryway being more than enough room for him to move back.

John carefully drops your groceries down to the ground and even helps you put it away, giving up on rejecting him after he couldn’t hear your four times repeated refusal. John already knew where all the spices went, and even where your breakfast pastries go in your pantry, but you suppose it was good guesses since he mixed up your recently organized junk drawer for your knife drawer

Once everything was put away, and kitchen quickly tidied by your awkward need to keep busy, John prolonged his stay by pointing to water damage at the baseboard of your walls and inspecting it with hums and hahs, muscles barely contained in his undersized shirt

He says he’ll be over later, will tools and supplies after a run to the hardware store, mentioning something about a good friend who’s a plumber and can look at these pipes with a knowing eye

“Bloke lays pipe real well” a passing tongue-in-cheek that seemed too literal to be anything less than a joke as John saw himself out

He made sure to mention to keep your door locked tight

“Heard there’s been a lot of break ins in the area. Don’t worry… I’ll keep you safe.”

[cum-a-calla]

i went a little insane on this Jack Delroy tidbit (is it still a tidbit if it’s 4800 words? get back to me on that)

Jack Delroy visits a diner in the middle of the night to wind down. He has very little in the way of expectations in the midst of fighting his own demons, but one thing he doesn’t expect is meeting a starstruck waitress that forces him to truly reckon with his urges.

under the cut: the lightest touch of dubcon, rough PIV fucking, fingerfucking, oral sex, public fucking, internal misery, and the suggestion of possession.

…

The late-night circuit is taking its toll on Jack.

It’s not so much the show - he lives to host, lives to act and react, lives to hype up his guests, to engage the audience. Genuinely enjoys the silly little skits they do. It’s living a dream, being in front of the camera and feeling that very specific, special feeling - not quite acting, not quite being himself. It’s less a façade and more a specific side of him - just a sliver of Jack, a flavor. A taste.

It’s not even really the late-night circuit, is it?

Ever since - …since, Jack’s been off. And why wouldn’t he be? The loss, the never-ending grind, the… the events that precluded this loss. The carving out of something inside of him, and to that end, when did that start? When the ratings fell? When Minnie did? When everything between those two massive events in his life took place? That secret in-between time, the woods, the eerie hooting in the trees, the costumes; God, the costumes had been so hack. He’d come so willingly, veins sluiced with booze, laughing, jeering with the rest of them. Until… until they weren’t.

Until he was kneeling in the pine needles, feeling them crunch under his knees, and had he ever paid so much attention to his surroundings? Had he ever stopped and noticed how it smelled in the forest? Perhaps not until then. Green, thick, heady. The sound of flapping wings, the whispers of his cohorts in the night. The metallic taste in the cup. Feeling something so unlike anything else, coursing through him, and wasn’t it so easy to chalk it up to nothing? It was easier. It was easier.

And then… and then.

It had been a time between sweet Minnie’s passing and his almost-reluctant return. But how long can tragedy keep you from your ultimate calling? There can only be so many mornings, noons and nights spent in a stupor, crying, vomiting, drinking, drugging. Only so much time avoiding every single part of your life, your livelihood. And what an unfair thing, to neglect one love of your life for the loss of another; Minnie’s face, her voice, she still lives in the back of his brain like an aneurysm. Capable of taking him completely out at any given moment.

And so the meetings in the Grove certainly helped, and perhaps did not at all. Before, after - what difference does time make, anyway? Minnie’s passing feels at once a hundred years in the past as well as five minutes ago. Time. Distortion is the only thing Jack knows anymore. There is only his life as the leading Night Owl and his life as Jack, and what in the fuck does that mean anymore unless he masks it with whatever else he can get his hands on?

His hands.

They tremble a little on the table, slid into a booth at a local diner. It’s a perfect imagining of a fifties spot, the plush, scuffed seats, the ridiculous outfits the largely female staff are wearing - the modest skirts, the aprons. The little notebook balanced against his waitress’s arm as she glides dutifully to his table.

“Evening,” she begins, glancing at him for barely a second before flipping a page. “Or - well, I guess it’s more like… good morning, right?” She laughs a gentle little laugh and it tugs at him, somehow. He watches her as he sweats, resisting the urge to wipe at his damp hairline. It’s been a fucking night.

“Evening and good morning to you, young lady,” he responds. Always genteel, always On.

She glances at him again and it’s a classic double-take. Eyes a little wider, she shifts in place and stares at her notebook, making every effort to conceal her recognition. Jack’s seen this look hundreds, thousands of times, so used to it that he can only smile warmly in return. The price of fame, but also the pleasure. She’s turning pink in the cheeks and it’s endearing, the way it lights her freckles up, the way it makes her squirm in place. Jack is charmed. He’s used to all ranges of attention - clamoring women, shy women, forward men. He takes it all in stride, but it’s the shy ones that get him. Demure, unsure. Something in his gut twists, and he waits politely for her to organize her thoughts before he says anything else.

“Th-thank you,” she stammers, blushing. “I… I know you must uh, get this a lot, but… you look like somebody,” she hints. She flicks her eyes from her notepad to Jack’s own eyes, guarded, giddily scared.

“I do get that a lot,” he says warmly. He drops her a quick, clever wink. “You’re clearly up late enough to know for sure, considering.”

She lifts the pad and covers her mouth with it, making an adorable, almost-silent squeal of excitement. The tips of her ears are burning, she’s so flustered. Jack can’t help but grin, laughing at her genuine and unbridled reaction.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry, I’m being so dumb! I just - I love you,” she gushes, and the words tumbling from her lips embarrass her even further as she cringes at herself. Absolutely gorgeous - Jack can’t help but run his eyes quickly along the line of her body, noting the curve of her waist, the length of her legs. The hint of bare thigh under her skirt. “I’m such a fan. I know everybody must say that, I.. wow, I’ve never met somebody famous before. Especially not somebody I’m such a big fan of.”

“That’s incredibly sweet. Must be my lucky night, being waited on by such a lovely fan,” he flirts. The dark twist in his pelvis keeps him eyeing her, and he’s forced to take the linen napkin on the table and blot at his forehead. “Excuse me - been a long, long night.”

“I bet,” she says. “I imagine you’re constantly busy. Mister Delroy, I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting - what can I get you?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Just a… a black coffee will do me for now.”

She nods and the woman scurries away, glowing with excitement. It’s just one of the many perks, the hoards of beautiful women that lose themselves in his presence. The power there. Jack is easy, kind - hearted. He has no need for applause, not in the way you’d assume - he lives to be enjoyed, lives to be an entertainment, sure. But the drive isn’t for the droves of people begging to worship him - and isn’t that cliché? Isn’t that just something a famous, rich asshole would say, or convince himself of?

But it rings true. All he wanted - all he wants, all he sacrificed for -

All he sacrificed for… is to be needed.

The girl comes back with his coffee, placing it down on top of a napkin in an oversized, chipped mug. Jack smiles warmly at her and winks again, watching her thighs under her skirt as she hurries away again. It’s cute, really. It’s heartening in a way, but mostly… it stirs. Jack forcibly turns his head and stares down at the scratched formica tabletop, coffee steaming. A single drop trails its way down the cup and stains the napkin, bleeding through to the table. In the low of his gut, in the back of his brain, a whisper begins. He sweats - he’s always sweating these days. The cocaine, the alcohol, the various other substances he blinds himself with… and -

And…

The… thing. The thing that makes his belly hot, the thing that turns his cock hard even when he least expects it. It’s like a black, swirling possession over him; it’s the only thing that he doesn’t need a substance for, but a substance against. It’s not a drunkenness, not a high - it’s something else entirely, a tingling, pervasive kind of darkness.

It’s been easy to overcome it most of the time…

Most of the time.

It gets harder every day, little by little. What makes it really hard is when he finds a person, a thing, a place, a situation - something that makes his fucking balls ache, something that fills him to the throat with blackness, with need, and he follows. It’s all part of it. Resisting makes him… not himself. Giving in makes him not himself. Where the line between who he thinks he is and who he is now has been blurred, irrevocably lost in the dust of things, impossible to decipher. The ruins of his life have been buried so many ways in such a short amount of time. He looks in the mirror and it’s a miracle to recognize himself anymore. He rakes his fingers through his hair, straightens the lapels on his suit jacket. It’s hot. He takes the napkin, blots his sweat once more.

He stares serenely out the window at the darkened sky. Stars are out, now, piercing through all that velvety blue-black, like freckles, like pinholes embedded in some luxurious cloth. He checks his watch - just about a quarter to three in the morning, and not even a wink of an urge to sleep. Nothing satiates, nothing helps him rest. Constantly on the hamster wheel, doing his little dance.

“Mister Delroy - I, uh - well - I know you just ordered the coffee, but… we had some extra things, so… I just thought - in case you were hungry… On the house, of course.”

Jack turns to the waitress as she carries a plate to him, steaming with all kinds of fixings - hashbrowns, eggs, bacon, toast. She toes her shoe on the floor, and again he steals a look at the little bit of exposed thigh, the way she nervously straightens the apron affixed to the front of her uniform dress. He smiles up at her and there’s a whisper in the back of his mind - he watches her struggle to try to look away, but she can’t. He indulges her in her sweet gaze, refusing to break eye contact just to see what she does. She squirms a little, pleasantly so - her pupils dilate, flicker from his mouth back to his eyes. Trying not to be obvious. It makes him laugh a little, a hum under his breath as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Thank you very much, dear. You sure know how to take care of a tired man.”

She looks at the floor, smiles so big. She ducks under the length of her hair but it does nothing to dull the sheer delight making her face glow so. Jack wants to grab her by the hips - a line of racing thoughts boil his blood, stir his cock as he sits. Thinking about her lips on him, the warmth of her mouth, his fingers digging into her. Stop. Not now. Please. Fighting the urges, the impulses.

“Anything for you, Mister Delroy.”

He almost winces, dick jumping in his slacks. God, she’s adorable. There’s an almost coquettish quality to the way she looks up at him again, under her lashes, hands clasped chastely behind her back. She licks her lips and he feels suddenly so, so feral. He can almost taste her by power of thought alone.

“Jack is fine… I insist.” He reaches out and takes her hand. Her fingers tremble the slightest bit and it sets his soul on fucking fire. He brings her soft hand to his lips and kisses her tenderly on the knuckles, resisting the urge to take her fingers into his mouth, to gently bite on the tips of them. He imagines pushing his own fingers between her pink lips and feeling her tongue, reaching back toward her throat until she’s teary-eyed. He watches her as she exhales, shaky. Uncertain. Absolutely excited.

“Jack,” she parrots under her soft breath. “Jack it is, then.”

As she hurries back behind the counter, fielding some of the other late night owls in the restaurant, he contemplates what exactly brought him here. Why the cocaine never jumps him the way it used to, at the beginning. Before the - the… gathering. Why the booze doesn’t calm him the way it used to. Why nothing works, why nothing can settle the hot, despicable urges, the constant crawling underneath his own flesh.

He spends the better part of the next hour switching between gazing out the window, sipping his coffee (and then another, and then another) and picking at his plate, forcing himself to chew the food, to taste it, to appreciate his server’s gift. It does nothing to satiate him. He can barely feel hunger these days - it’s just going through the motions.

Minnie used to make a killer breakfast. On lazy weekends, while he slept off a hangover, and -

He pushes those thoughts away.

3:55 A.M.

The cute waitress comes around again and seems pleasantly surprised to keep finding him here, alone, lingering. Is he lingering? Why is he still here? He should be trying to sleep everything off, getting at least a snatch of shut-eye before another busy day tomorrow trying to up his ratings. There’s a very special show in the works - still in the idea phase, still scouting for a story, but… it’s shaping. Things are rolling, building up. The smart thing to do would be to pay his bill and catch a cab to his hotel room so he can rest fitfully for a few hours.

He asks for the bill and she swallows her own crestfallen feelings as she turns to retrieve it for him. He glances at it, pulls bills from his cracked leather bifold and tips her so generously that her eyes almost bug out of her head. She begins to refuse his tip and he rises from his seat, shushing her. He towers over here and she has no choice but to gaze up at him, like the very length of him is hypnotizing. The shared hunger. He can feel it like electricity, and for a split second they’re so close to each other that he could hook his hand behind the curve of her skull and pull her into a kiss. There’s zero doubt she would give it to him.

Instead, he grasps her shoulder and gives her a light squeeze.

“Thank you for a delightful breakfast - or dinner. Whatever is appropriate for this time of night,” he jokes.

She smiles, beaming at him like he’s the sun and she can do nothing more but bask in his light. “Of course, Mister Del - er, of course, Jack. It was such a pleasure to meet you. A dream.”

“I’m flattered,” he says, and he means it. That’s one thing about his job, and about protecting the shreds of humility he still has left - he always means it. There is nothing more intoxicating, nothing more rewarding than meeting a person who lights up at his very presence. Isn’t that what it’s all about? Touching somebody in such a profound way that brings a little joy, a little entertainment? “The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.” Her voice is low, quiet and sweet. He stoops just slightly to catch it, that dark little voice tickles the back of his brain as he finds himself just a touch closer to her, and he swallows against the urge again to crush her against him, to sip her breath into his lungs and feel her tongue against his. Her eyes glitter in the old, yellowed lights of the diner. He, the Jack Delroy, finds himself utterly speechless and hanging on to her silence like a life raft, awash in his own deafening desire. “I’ll never forget this night, Jack.”

He’s the one basking, now, wondering what her feverish cheek might feel like against his, what other parts of her might feel just as hot, just as deliriously pink and warm against his own flesh. He summons a graceful smile, but it comes out as more of a gentle smirk, a huff of a laugh. Since when does Jack get nervous?

She waits and he regains control of himself, running his fingers through his hair and swiping the back of his hand across his damp hairline, straightening up, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sure I won’t be forgetting this night any time soon, myself,” he jokes. She’s delighted, practically vibrating in place. He can almost smell her, her sweat. Some delicate kind of perfume or soap.

He makes his way outside and waves at her as she returns behind the counter, scurrying into the kitchens - he imagines her in there pressing her hands to her own cheeks, shaking out her adrenaline and excitement. It’s endearing. It sets him on fire.

There are a line of pay phones outside of the restaurant, and he steps into one and lights a cigarette, flipping through the pages to find a cab service. He finds himself eyeing the building, seeing if he can see her through the windows as she continues serving. Mere glimpses - he sees her flit back and forth a little, remaining largely out of his view.

He closes the abused phone book and drops it to hang on its heavy chain, the pages nearly in tatters by years and years of use. He exits the booth without having so much as put any coins into the slot, opting instead to walk across the parking lot. He glances at his watch - 4:14 A.M. He seats himself on a cement block at the edge of the lot, finishing his cigarette just to light up another one directly after. God, he could really use a scotch or two - not that it would help any.

Minutes tick by and he waits. He rubs his sweaty palms down his thighs, constantly checking his watch. 4:21 A.M.

By the time 4:45 A.M. rolls around, he spots her. The lot is dark, the flickering neon sign of the diner doing little to expose him to her. She has a purse slung over her shoulder and not much else. Jack rises to his feet, wincing at the pop of his knees, the stiffness in his back. He flicks the butt of his cigarette to the ground and smashes the lit end with the toe of his shoe.

He approaches her and the gravel crunching under his feet has her suddenly alert, jerking her attention toward him. He watches her tense up, eyes wide, clutching the strap of her bag. Her features distort with fear, confusion. She can’t seem to decide how to feel, expression blurring and resetting, blurring again.

“Jack…? What are you - what are you doing here?”

“I was, uh… well, I suppose I was waiting.”

“Waiting for…?”

“For you.”

A hint of delight seems to ease her tension, but not enough for her to relax. She shifts from one foot to the other. Jack aches. He feels the heat pooling in his pelvis, feels that pull. His cock is already half-hard, pulsing with his heartbeat as he comes closer. She’s frozen to the spot, unable to do much else but watch him.

“For me? Wh-why?”

“There is something very special about you, I think. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, if I’m being honest.”

He’s nearly touching her, and he slowly brings his finger to her chin, lifting her face to his. He leans down until he can feel her shuddering little breaths against his mouth. She licks her lips, anticipating him, and he finally bridges that gap. Her lips are so soft, her kiss so submissive, inviting. It’s even better than he’d been fantasizing about, and inky black tendrils of desire creep up through his spine, dripping behind his ribs like ichor. Roiling down from his belly to his balls, stiffening his cock. The violence. The utter, blind, salivating need as he pulls her close, buries his fingers in the fabric of her cheap uniform as he does so. She resists for a moment and seems to melt into him, moaning into his mouth.

He could eat her alive.

They stumble together across the gravel, her hands on his face, skating over his sharp cheekbones to muss his hair. He grabs at her ass, squeezing the generous flesh there. He imagines biting her, leaving a mark that she’ll feel for days to come, imagines her craning to look into a mirror and running her fingers along bruises, bite marks. God, how he wants to mark her.

He guides her clumsily into the mouth of an alley behind the diner. Pressed against the wall, he has the freedom to roam further under her skirt. He tucks his thumbs into the band of her sheer, nylon tights, pulling them down to her calves. Kneeling before her, he watches her flushed expression as he rips her panties off her body with his strong hands, relishing the way she squeals his name. Like a trapped animal. A lamb trembling in the jaws of a wolf. He dips his fingers between her thighs, sliding them into the tight heat of her cunt. She gasps as he fills her this way, stroking, thrusting until she’s practically panting. He ducks under her dress and a growl rumbles up his throat as he tastes her. He wants her dripping down his face. He wants her to beg him to stop, to feel her tighten exquisitely around his fingers as he fucks her with them.

She’s alternating between gently pulling his hair and petting it, thumb slipping occasionally down to trace the bridge of his nose. She does this many times, and it’s so unexpectedly intimate it catches him off guard. Feeling him, painting the image of his profile on the inside of her mind’s eye like a tattoo - it’s not enough to be able to look at him, touch him, kiss him, watch him on TV. She traces him. She memorizes the shape of his nose, the gentle slope of his brow, fingers tickling over his cheekbones. It has him leaking in his trousers.

Her breath catches in her throat and his name is on her lips, sweet and soft as silk, thighs shaking, and there it is - she climaxes. He pulls his fingers out of her and stoops even lower, tongue pushing as far as he can into her folds, nosing her clit. This seems to do something animalistic to her; she nearly screams, covering her own mouth as she grinds against him. He wonders idly if she’ll buck hard enough to break his nose (and so be it, he decides).

Jack can’t wait any longer. He wipes his face off on his sleeve, spins her in place and yanks her hips back. She’s still catching her breath, face so red in the shadows of the alleyway. Eyes half-lidded and dreamy, lips swollen. She glances back at him and watches him struggle to unbuckle and unzip himself, pulling his hard cock out to rub between her wet thighs.

“Jack - please,” she whines. “Please, please.”

“Please what?” God, she’s so fucking slippery. He could swoon on the spot. She makes a soft, whimpering sound and he pulls the head of his cock away, teasing. “Come on. Say what you want.”

“Please… make it hurt.”

For a moment, he stares into her eyes in surprise, and she offers him a coy smile. It changes her features into something a little more sinister than he’d expected. It sets him on fire. Without another word, Jack lines himself up to her plush, slick, waiting cunt and fills her in one brutal thrust. She stiffens on the spot and screams, and now it’s his turn to clap a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, but you wanted this, little dove,” he coos in her ear between grunts. He fucks her hard, fast, feeling all that silken flesh rippling around him. “I had no idea you’d be so filthy. Are you like this for other men? Older men? Spreading your legs in an alley for them to fuck you open?”

The sounds she makes against his hand are probably words - surely they are, but all he hears is her desperate mewling, her high-pitched moans and near-shrieks, the feeling of her breath and drool, her teeth as she considers biting into the flesh of his palm.

“Just me, then? How long have you wanted this, how long have you fantasized about Jack-fucking-Delroy pounding into your little pussy? Do you think of me when you try to sleep? Do you touch yourself thinking of it? Is it what you expected, darling?”

He can barely control himself. There’s a special place between heaven and hell, some secret universe they’ve created with all the heat and pressure of their bodies, with the whispering darkness coursing through him, clouding him, transforming him. There’s nothing else but the urge to rip her in half. To make her scream, to fill her so violently that she feels it for days, for weeks even. He releases her mouth in order to grab her hips, hooking his fingers around the soft flesh there to yank her back against his brutal thrusts. He no longer cares how loud she screams. He likes the way her hands flutter back, grabbing at his wrists, reaching for this thighs in a poor attempt to escape his violence, to temper the way he hammers into her. But he’s too far gone - the smack of his hips into her ass, the way their bodies make the most infernally wet sounds… it’s all there is.

Jack hears a sound, something that nags him in the back of his mind. A rhythmic, gentle noise in the distance, something familiar but unable to breach the ferocity of his current focus. As the pressure builds in his balls, cock harder and more rigid than ever before, he recognizes it. Delirious, he recognizes the sound of an owl somewhere among these buildings, the gentle, almost mocking call of it every couple minutes.

Something about it pushes him over the edge, sweat rolling down his forehead in hot, fat drops, tickling the tip of his nose. He holds her flush as release frees him from all that pressure, muscles tightening and relaxing and waves of molten-hot pleasure surge all through his belly, between his thighs. She’s nearly sobbing at this point, and who can blame her? Each throb of his cock has him grunting against her, draped over her body, teeth bared.

Jack’s easing up, now. He rocks through his orgasm and fills her with his cum, pushing himself as deeply as he can as if a slave to his biological urge. Coating her, marking her with his seed. Mine. I did this.

As he’s emptied himself into her, so empties his mind. No more owl sounds, no more swirling thoughts, the darkness dissipating. He pulls his softening cock from her body and tucks himself away, doing his best to help the poor woman straighten up. Tear tracks shine on her cheeks, little sniffles accompanying her embarrassed smile. There’s fear there, just a little. It hides beneath the veneer of guilty satisfaction, of still being starstruck by her company. It seems that she can barely believe everything that’s just happened. He puts an arm slowly around her shoulders and guides her out from the alley, taking a secret and perverse satisfaction in the way she has to limp a little at first.

“Hey - that was… well, that was something, wasn’t it?” He laughs nervously, searching her to make sure she’s okay. “Are you all right? Do you need a cab? I’d be happy to get one for you, to share?”

“That would be great, actually, if - if it isn’t a pain, Mister Delroy.”

“Jack,” he corrects her gently. He turns her toward the phone book and she waits beside it as he makes the call, staring into the night sky and hugging herself warm. He reemerges, and the way she looks up at him fills him with something he can’t quite name. Some kind of near-familiarity. He’s suddenly struck with his need for the affection, to hold her, to lean own and kiss her lips and be tender to her after all of that. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over her shoulders, drinks in her warm little smile as she tugs it around her. They wait in a comfortable silence, occasionally smiling at each other until a car pulls into the lot. It doesn’t take very long at all. He escorts her to it and slides into the back with her once she’s seated, resting his heavy hand on her knee.

“Would you like to… do you need a place to stay the night?” The nip of loneliness. The need, poking its head restlessly into his mind, his body. So different than what they’d done against the wall, so much scarier. “If you’d like to join me…”

She tries unsuccessfully to hide a grin, turning to stare out the window at nothing at all. Hiding her delight, her own need. “I’d love to, Jack.”

[dreaduquesne]

im still here and i don't think im leaving anytime soon

[atlantis-area]

MINHO - Heartbreak (MCOUNTDOWN, 220113) 🔥 MINHO SPAM BDAY 🥳