#. reqs open

[trentsgirl]

pairing: jude bellingham x girlfriend!reader

synopsis: you’re a bit crazy when your boyfriend pisses you off.

notes: suuuper short, just something i came up with in like five minutes. srry for not updating, life is crazyy

playing: it’s okay, i’m okay by tate mcrae

masterlist.

“and then she goes, in the absolute nastiest tone, ‘well, you had plenty of time to do it,’ and i’m just sitting there like, what? you see what i mean? she’s so self-centered, she doesn’t even stop to think that people have lives outside of work!” you vented, your frustration spilling out as jude listened.

the two of you were sprawled out on the bed after a long day apart—him coming back from training, you from work. it had become your nightly routine, sharing the highs and lows of your day with each other. he lay back with his head resting on the pillow, while you propped yourself up on your elbow, turned toward him, still mid-rant about your impossibly annoying boss.

“how much time did you have?” jude asked casually.

“a week, but—”

“then she’s right. you did have plenty of time.”

his words hit you like a slap in the face. your eye twitched. was he… not taking your side? he was supposed to back you up! instead, it felt like he’d just shoved a metaphorical knife into your back and twisted it. how could he?

you sat up abruptly, glaring down at him with narrowed eyes. “she’s right?” you repeated, slow and deliberate, as if giving him a chance to backtrack. maybe you’d misheard. maybe the world wasn’t crumbling around you after all.

but no. jude nodded, sealing his fate.

“wow…” you muttered, your voice dripping with disbelief. “do you hate me?”

the abrupt question made jude’s brows knit together in confusion. “what? what are you talking about?” he asked, his tone baffled.

you shook your head, refusing to meet his eyes. “you hate me… my boyfriend hates me,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, though loud enough for him to hear.

jude blinked at you like you’d lost your mind, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “are you serious right now?” he asked, staring at you like you were the most dramatic person alive.

“don’t talk to me,” you muttered, almost theatrically, as you slid off the bed. “i need some time alone… to process what just happened.”

jude watched you go, biting back a laugh. he knew this routine all too well—your flair for the dramatic, the way you needed to make a scene before inevitably calming down. shaking his head with a silent chuckle, he let you have your moment, fully expecting you’d be back soon enough, probably with an even more dramatic follow-up.

15 MINUTES LATER…

caption: i don’t want him anyway, girl take him 🖤

comments:

judebellingham: baby, as much as i don’t like telling you what to do, please take this down.

urbestfriend1: oh what did he do this time? 🙄

urbestfriend2: slay and girl power, but all that stuff aside, what the hell? 😭😭

jobebellingham: i always thought you were too good for him.

[dimlylittorch]

18+ drabble MDNI

My Masterlist🌱

Silco x transmasc!reader

y’all i’m sorry i need this man SO badly. i only recently watched Arcane for the first time and him and Viktor have been going through my head nonstop🙏

Imagine being Silco’s pretty boy assistant he snagged from topside, wanting a trophy to keep at his side. Offering you a job you can’t refuse- amazing pay and promises of the chance to explore a whole new world (aka the Undercity)

Wearing your nice topsider outfits like you would any other day in Piltover, not noticing the odd looks others gave you down there. Silco loving how you’re like his own exotic pet to regular citizens- the topsider he had stolen away and kept on a leash.

Being surprisingly good at your job, fully prepared to actually try your best (something he often couldn’t find in others.) Color coding, organizing, making lists- even writing out a daily schedule for him, much to his amazement.

Not thinking much of it when Silco calls you a good boy- maybe that’s just usual talk for down here, right? Silco trying to ignore the way his cock chubs up every time you smile sweetly after being praised.

Not realizing how your smile is a rarity for Silco to see since he lives in the Undercity. Your kindness isn’t something he’s used to, making him more attached to you than he should be. He’s already taken care of a few stragglers that called you names or whistled at you.

Finding him needing help with his eye injections but no one else is around. You offer to help with a sweet concerned look on your face, walking over and trying to find a good angle. Struggling to get a comfortable position so you gently rest your knee in between his legs on his desk chair, your leg brushing against his clothed cock which was already hardening. Him letting out a small moan when you inject his eye, which you assumed was from the pain, but really your knee brushed against his cock again.

Him taking you out to dinner as a ‘present’ for doing so well recently, but in reality he just wants to see you more. If he’s lucky enough maybe one of these nights he’ll convince you to come home with him- since it’s ’far too long a walk at this time of night’ for you to get back to your apartment all the way in Piltover.

Silco finding your little day journal that you use to take notes and keep track of what you need to do. Flipping through it out of curiosity, finding the page where you jot down what he likes so you know what to get him for the holidays. His chest feeling warmer than it has in years.

Bringing him trinkets from Piltover as if he couldn’t just get them himself if he wanted to. An entire drawer of his desk is dedicated to just the things you bring him. Little do you know how his heart speeds up a little when you leave a new present on his desk. Can’t help but imagine you wearing a neatly tied ribbon and sitting on his desk, waiting for him as his next gift.

I will 100% be writing more for this don’t yall worry

[sweetfoxmojis]

I got a brown goat request a couple days ago but tumblr wouldn’t let me reply to it for some reason T^T

[nausicaamusiclover20]

So, apparently my crush on James reached the stage when just reading stories isn’t enough, I have to start requesting them)))

Black album James x ballerina reader (pretty please smut), where he’s just obsessed with their size difference and the fact that she’s very flexible? Like she pretty much drowns in his shirts, her hands are fragile compared to his, etc? one day, he comes to hotel after sound check and sees her doing her stretches in his shirt and her pointe shoes and that’s too much for him? He just has to make love to her? Maybe he is making references to Beaty and the beast ballet? Like James, the beast (metal band, rough guy, always grumpy) finally captured his beauty and will not let her go?

Thank you))

I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: Explicit Content,Adult Themes, Sexual Content light Possessiveness, Physical Intimacy

___________

In the Arms of the Beast

I didn’t hear the door open—I was too lost in my stretches, the slow pull of muscles and the grounding rhythm of my breath keeping me focused. The air in the hotel room was still, save for the faint rustle of fabric as I moved. James’s shirt, massive on me, slipped over one shoulder as I bent forward, palms flat against the floor.

The shirt smelled like him—leather, a touch of smoke, and something warm I could never quite name. It made me feel wrapped in him, even when he wasn’t here.

I was midway through a stretch, my legs extended in a perfect split, when a familiar growl broke the silence.

“You trying to kill me, darlin’?”

I jerked upright, my heart skipping a beat. Turning my head, I found him standing there, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His boots were still on, his hair slightly mussed from the day’s soundcheck, and his eyes… Oh, God, his eyes. They were locked on me like a predator that had found its prey.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He didn’t move, just stood there, drinking me in. His gaze traveled slowly, lingering on my legs, then the shirt that barely reached the tops of my thighs. His expression darkened, his lips curling into a crooked grin that sent a shiver down my spine. “Hell of a sight to walk into.”

Heat flooded my face, and I tried to play it off, standing and brushing down the oversized shirt. “I was just stretching.”

“Stretching,” he repeated, his voice low and rough, like gravel under heavy boots. He finally moved, stepping closer, and my pulse quickened. “You look like you’re dancing for me.”

I laughed nervously, though his intensity made it hard to breathe. “It’s not like that.”

But he was already closing the distance, his big hands finding my waist. His palms were rough against my skin, but his touch was gentle, reverent even. “You’re drowning in this shirt,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over the fabric. “Look at you. So damn tiny.”

My hands instinctively rested on his forearms, the contrast between us impossible to ignore. His arms were solid, his muscles thick and corded under my fingers. Next to his, my hands looked fragile, almost doll-like. He noticed it too, his gaze dropping to where I touched him, a quiet groan escaping his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice soft but loaded with something raw. “Like somethin’ out of a story. Beauty and the Beast.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, his hand slid up, tilting my chin so I was looking right into those piercing eyes. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, warm and commanding. The kiss stole my breath, every bit of him consuming me in the best way.

His hands moved, gripping my hips as he pulled me against him. “Mine,” he growled against my lips. The word sent a thrill down my spine. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

My heart pounded as I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed like I weighed nothing at all. His shirt rode up as he laid me down, exposing my bare legs and the ribbons of my pointe shoes.

He paused, hovering over me, his eyes dark with hunger. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“James…” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and desire.

His hands were everywhere—exploring, testing. He bent my leg, his touch slow and deliberate, as though marveling at my flexibility. His grin turned wicked as I arched beneath him, a soft gasp slipping from my lips.

“Shh, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, sending a jolt of heat through me, and then his tongue followed, soothing the spot. “Let me take care of you.”

James’s hands slid under the oversized shirt I wore, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His eyes darkened as he glanced up at me, a low growl escaping his throat.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good in this shirt. But it’s in the way,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I need to see you.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I lifted my arms as he tugged the shirt up and over my head, throwing it to the side without a second thought. I was left exposed before him, my skin flushed and my breath shallow as he took in the sight of me, his gaze almost possessive.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands traced down my arms, over my shoulders, and to the curve of my waist. His touch was like fire, leaving me aching for more.

His lips trailed along my neck, his breath hot against my skin, before moving lower, over my collarbone. As his hands gently cupped my breasts, I gasped at the feeling of his thumbs brushing over my nipples, hardening at his touch.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his mouth descending further, kissing along the top of my chest before moving to one nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hardened peak, sending a shiver through me.

I arched into him, my hands tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on me, his beard brushing against my skin in a way that made my entire body hum with pleasure. The sensation was both tender and intense, and I couldn't help but moan softly, feeling my body come alive under his touch.

But it was the way his hands moved, the way his fingers lightly traced the curve of my hips, that drove me wild. The gentleness with which he treated me, as though I were something precious, only added to the fire building inside.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling. It was a plea, though I didn’t know for what exactly, only that I needed him to make me feel.

With a soft chuckle, he pulled away for a moment, eyes dark with desire. "You’re so eager, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere. Just need to take my time with you."

His words, those quiet promises of patience, set my heart racing. Slowly, he lowered his body, kissing his way down my chest, over my stomach, and further still, until he hovered between my legs.

His eyes locked with mine, filled with a heat that made my breath catch. "Let me taste you, baby," he whispered, his voice hushed, reverent.

The words, the way he said them, stirred something deep within me. I parted my legs slightly, giving him the space he needed, feeling my pulse quicken with every inch closer he came.

 Suddenly, he lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the cool wall, enveloping me with his warmth. I  felt my heart beating faster, his strong frame looming over me in a possessive yet gentle way. The heat of his body radiated against mine, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a thrill through me. "I couldn’t resist. You’re just too tempting right now."

“Maybe I wanted you to,” I whispered back, feeling bold, excitement dancing in my chest.

Before I could respond further, he leaned in, capturing my mouth with his. His kiss was electrifying—hunger mixed with tenderness—as he poured his desires into the moment. I melted into him, my hands instinctively sliding into his hair, gripping the soft strands as he began to explore.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jawline and down to my neck, where he lingered, his breath hot against my skin. I gasped, tilting my head back, giving him better access. “God, you taste so good,” he breathed against my collarbone.

“Then don’t stop,” I urged, shivering at his words.

As if sensing my need, he slowly sank to his knees in front of me, his eyes smoldering with intensity. I felt vulnerable yet safe under his gaze, my body aching for him.

“Please, James,” I begged softly, my voice barely above a whisper, my fingers curling tighter in his hair, a mixture of desperation and exhilaration coursing through me.

With a smirk, he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against my core. “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he said, his tone both commanding and soothing. And then he buried his face between my thighs.

The sensation was overwhelming—his tongue skillfully teasing me as he explored every inch of my softness. I gasped, the pleasure sending jolts of electricity coursing through me. I couldn’t help but rock my hips closer, urging him on, craving every pleasurable flick.

“James,” I moaned, the sound of his name spilling from my lips like a sweet invitation. His smirk against me made my heart race even faster.

“Feel good, baby?” he murmured, pausing briefly. The wicked look in his eyes only fueled my desire.

“More than you can imagine,” I breathed, arching my back, desperate for more. “Don’t stop, please…”

As he continued, I felt myself teetering on the edge, every flick of his tongue driving me closer. “You’re so good at this,” I panted, lost in the moment. “You know how much I crave this.”

“Only the best for you,” he replied between teasing kisses, his voice low and sultry. He paused and gave me a look filled with heat. “You deserve to be spoiled, babe.”

With my hands gripping his hair tighter, I pulled him closer. “Then spoil me.”

He was relentless, his mouth devouring me in a way that sent shockwaves through my body. “You’re delicious,” he said, a hint of possessiveness lacing his words. “I could stay here all night.”

“God, James,” I gasped, feeling another wave of pleasure building inside me. “I’m—”

He cut me off with a hard, swift move, pushing me over the edge, and I cried out in ecstasy. Colors exploded behind my eyelids as waves of bliss washed over me.

When I finally came down from my high, he stood, brushing his lips against mine with a possessive smirk. “You okay?” he asked, concern mingling with the raw desire in his eyes.

“Better than okay,” I whispered, feeling electric currents still dancing through my body. “Now I want you.”

His brow arched playfully, desires swirling like a tempest in his eyes. “You think you can handle me?” he teased, leaning closer.

I smirked back, feeling daring. “I’ve handled you before, haven’t I?”

“Touché,” he said with a chuckle, but his expression turned serious. “You ready for this?”

“Always,” I assured him, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

With a single motion, he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around him as he pressed me against the wall. I could feel him, hard and ready, throbbing against my core, and the intensity made my breath quicken. “You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice thick with need.

“Only for you,” I breathed. “Always for you.”

He grinned wickedly, his breath ghosting across my ear. “Then let’s see how much you can take.” With that, he sank into me in one smooth motion, and I gasped as he filled me completely.

“God, yes,” I breathed, losing myself in the sensation. “You feel incredible.”

“Damn right I do,” he growled, driving deeper. “And you’re mine.”

The rhythm of our bodies colliding filled the air, the sound a symphony of passion and urgency. “Look at me, Y/N,” he demanded, his eyes locked onto mine. I nodded, surrendering completely to him, my heart racing as I matched his intensity.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he urged, his breath ragged.

“James, it feels—oh god, it feels amazing,” I moaned, my body arching against his. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“That's right, baby. I want to hear you say it. I want you to remember how good I make you feel,” he said, his voice low and dark, sending shivers up my spine.

“James, you make me feel so good,” I whimpered, desperate for him. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”

With each thrust, he buried himself deeper, igniting flames of pleasure that threatened to consume me. The heat between us crackled, the world beyond us fading to nothing as we lost ourselves in each other.

“C’mon, babe. Let it go for me,” he urged, his voice a gravelly whisper as he picked up the pace, the need pushing both of us toward the brink.

“James, I’m so close,” I gasped, urgency flooding my voice.

“Then let go for me,” he commanded, thrusting harder, each movement focused solely on driving me to that sweet release. I could feel myself slipping, my breath hitching.

With one final deep thrust, I came undone, a wave of pleasure crashing over me, drawing out a desperate cry that echoed in the room. I felt him surge with me, his grip tightening as he lost himself inside me, his own moans harmonizing with mine.

In the aftermath, as our breaths mingled, he cradled my face in his hands, his touch gentle amidst the overwhelming intensity. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his eyes softening as they bore into mine.

I smiled, relishing the aftermath of our passion. “So are you,” I replied, my fingers trailing along his jaw. “You always know how to make me feel amazing.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “And I’ll keep making you feel that way, because you deserve it.”

With a warmth filling my chest, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his once more, feeling grateful for this moment and the man who held me so tenderly yet fiercely. In James’ arms, I knew I had found something extraordinary.

[leckiestrikes]

hi please drop requests in the comments for later i wanna draw more

also hi meet the artist sort of

[thatcandygirl]

@ray-land17 also requested Titan Luz so here she is in all of her glory!

[cloversnstrawberries]

will you do platonic yandere alastor x teen reader for the “refusal/acceptance” prompt? like the teen reader was kidnapped by him and refused to accept him as their father but as time goes on he manipulates them into accepting him.

"refusal / acceptance" plantonic!yandere!alastor & teen!gn!reader ! !

[2024 christmas/holiday event, entry 3]

event post ! | event masterlist !

description; When you fell to hell, you hadn't expected yourself to make it this long. 5 years wasn't very much at all to most sinners, but to the younger ones-- it was a massive milestone, you included. However, your relatively peaceful (as peaceful as it could get in hell...) existence was abruptly interrupted by your own curiosity getting the better of you.

Really, you shouldn't have poked around the house you'd basically been squatting in for the past 5 years like you were, all it could lead to was trouble, nd you should've known that.

additional notes; the first part is very focused on the reader themself/the mysteriously unoccupied and very nice house they found after first falling, but i promise you alastor does show up and is very much his usual overprotective self :D

warnings; Kidnapping, vague possessiveness, overprotectiveness, imprisonment, entrapment, Reader is convinced Alastor wants to kill them, brief/vague mentions of violence, murder, torture, etc etc, Reader has trust issues (for a good reason, it is alastor we're talking about), manipulation, and if i missed any others, please let me know!!!

w/c; 5.5k (oh lord)

You aren't sure how long you've been here, isolated with The Radio Demon in some messed-up pocket dimension(?).

In all honesty, you don't know what you did to deserve this. To catch his interest like this, and by god you don't know how the hell you've been keeping it.

Both in life and death, you knew many people like The Radio Demon-- you knew how they operated, the ins and outs of what their main goal was. For some, they prioritized wealth, and others prioritized power above all else--

You've come to the very clear conclusion that the Radio Demon prioritizes his own amusement above anything else in the world. Yes, he most definitely has a thing for power (as all Overlords do, it's practically a requirement for the position), but that's certainly not his intentions with you.

Being a younger sinner wasn't necessarily rare-- it was hard to come by them, yes, but that's because they're usually snuffed out before they could even get a look around the place.

It's a wonder you've made it this far, five years wasn't much in the eyes of Sinners like Alastor, but to you-- it was far beyond how long you'd expected yourself to make it.

The Exterminators that come down each year-- they target the younger ones, the vulnerable. On more than one occasion, people have claimed they heard Adam, the leader of the Exterminators, proclaim "Oh, I just love killing the small ones!"

Not very holy in your humble opinion, but that opinion was not asked of you; so you'd never shared it to anyone but yourself.

Dying at the hands of other sinners wasn't uncommon for the younger ones either, obviously-- which is why you were (understandably) a bit of a hermit.

This is, ironically, how you encountered and was promptly swiped up by no other but the Radio Demon himself. You never interacted with others much, but you'd still heard tales of him-- little snippets of conversations as you did your monthly grocery shopping. One of the few times you'd ever leave your little shoddy cottage on the outskirts of Pentagram City.

You were always a very curious person-- cautious, so you'd keep your curiousity to yourself. Let yourself silently mull over information, but forcing yourself from never seeking any more than you could passively pick up.

But this one time-- God, you really don't know why you did it. Perhaps you were getting bored with it all, with the monotony of your afterlife; always on edge, even in your own 'home'.

This cottage you lived in was abandoned once you found it, just a few days after you'd fallen into hell. It was close to the field you'd woken up in after dying, and you'd curled up on the cold, scratched up wooden floor and slept for the first time in Hell.

Ever since, you'd claimed the place as your own. The first few months-- scratch that, the first few years, you were always on edge, expecting its true owner to come crawling back-- and slaughter you, who by all means was a squatter, simple as that.

You didn't mess with the items much, and you stuck only to where you needed. The bathroom, the kitchen, and the living room-- where you'd set up shop, claiming it as your bedroom.

Only recently had you begun exploring the other rooms. The kitchen was simple, having an icebox and a gas stove; besides the archway was an apron hanging on a hook that read "Don't kiss the cook". You'd snickered when you first noticed it.

You never used it, you only used what you had to-- never rearranging, never touching what wasn't absolutely necessary to your survival. Forever in fear of if-- or when, the original owner returned.

A few months ago, after residing in this cottage for so long, you came to the conclusion that owner probably was never coming back. They'd most like died in an extermination-- when you'd first discovered the house, it already had a light covering of dust over all the objects.

And yet, nothing looked out of place. Nothing stolen, nothing broken. That's what put you on edge, making you certain for so long that the owner would come back and rip you to shreds.

You started small, looking and eventually locating an unassuming hall closet in search of cleaning supplies. You pulled a duster out, a wooden handle with a metal bit attaching the real feathers on the end-- it was ornate, in your eyes, because you were so used to having a duster made of synthetic fibers. It looked quite old, but that fit with the rest of the house.

You pulled it out and began dusting-- once you were done, you were surprised by how much nicer the place looked by then. You turned the feather duster back to its home in the closet, still careful about disturbing anything else.

A few days later, you took a mop and cleaned the floor of the living room and kitchen.

The next day, you cleaned and reorganized the bathroom, but didn't dare throw away anything.

Then, a week later, you finally removed those mounted heads of various cervines, stashing them in a corner of the living room. Out of sight and out of mind, no longer looming over you as you slept on the cushy sofa every night.

Your boldest move by that point-- but after that, it was like a gateway had been opened. No longer so nervous, you moved furniture around; inspected all the cabinets of the bathroom and kitchen, looked through the large oak armoire standing by the entrance.

In it, you found a few coats, an umbrella, a couple hats that hadn't been in style for decades, maybe even nearing a century-- and a few bits and bobs a like. One thing in particular caught your eye-- a coat made in beautiful earth-toned colors, with jewel-red accents as well.

You took it out, and began wearing it around your house.

In the following months, you'd branched out into a few other rooms-- no longer sleeping in the living room, you settled down in what you assume to have been a guest bedroom. It was plain, with a queen-sized mattress held up by a metal wire frame.

It was done up in blues, and it looked like it'd been rampaged through when you first entered. Slate blue covers ripped off the bed, drawers pulled from the dresser-- spilling its contents all over the floor; and a 1950s CRT TV on the floor, a hole running right through the screen and out the casing. The glass of it was still strewn about the floor.

You cleaned it up with careful hands, and took the broken TV to sit beside the mounted stag heads in the corner of the living room.

A few more changes-- you found a storage room, stacked high with neatly folded clothes; hunting gear, and various different items from a bygone eras, along with dozens and dozens of boxes-- most, if not all, were labelled in some shape or form. You placed the TV and mounts in there, not having the heart throw anything away. You'd even kept the glasses pieces, placing them in a Tupperware you'd discovered in a particularly dusty cabinet in the kitchen.

One night, you'd grown bored again-- a terrible thing to be in a place like this, something you both did and did not consider your own. But, you'd ventured into the storage room regardless; careful of the items piled high, you pulled out a random cardboard box from the top of one of the less precarious towers of stuff.

In neat, swooping cursive; it was cryptically labelled "Cherished Belongings". Against your better judgement, you pried the top open--

Inside were a few radios, far more modern than the rest of the cottage appeared to be. Deep gouges were in the side of some, but the marks didn't dig deep enough to make it unable to be used.

A stack of letters you didn't dare touch, feeling like it'd be going too far to look into the private affairs of your home's previous owner-- a couple small boxes, that once you opened revealed little knick knacks that reminded you of your great-grandmother.

She had a farmhouse out in the country, and every time you'd visit her when you were young and she was still alive, you were always so enamored by the little trinkets placed all over a wooden shelf hanging above a corner-countertop.

They were delicate, bisque porcelain and well maintained. Your grandmother had a thing for rabbits and birds, many of those trinkets being one of those two things;

In the box, wrapped oh-so delicately in bubble wrap, were three tiny bisque porcelain deers. By the looks of their make and paint job, you guessed they were from the 50s or 60s.

You set them aside, along with the other boxes like them (though, you didn't open those yet. you wanted to explore the big box in its entirety before delving into the details), and explored the box a little more.

You found a beautiful Cathedral radio, from the brand Philco-- it was at the bottom, obviously an antique model. It appeared to be a custom, made of red wood and brass accents; it was polished to perfection, obviously a treasured item to the person who lived here before you did.

You pulled it out, and then closed up the box. You didn't place it back on its tower, as there was still more you could dig through in the large box; you took your findings to the living room, and set them carefully down on the accent table near the sofa.

You opened the rest of the little boxes, and placed the little figurines all around the kitchen, a few in the living room as well. Once you were satisfied, you sat down on the couch and began fiddling with the radio.

When it buzzed to life, it was already on a station. It was playing... swing music, you think it is-- you weren't too sure, since you weren't incredibly familiar with that era of music.

You tried turning the knob, but it always managed to come back to the same exact station. A second or two of static as you moved the knob, a spark of hope-- before it was quickly dashed as you were redirected right back to the same station.

Still, some music was better than none-- you'd found yourself going stir crazy without much background noise, save for the woods outside and the occasional animal prancing around; so this find was actually quite nice, you'd thought.

Until the song ended abruptly-- you thought it might've been a technical error of some kind, interference on your end. Until, right as the song stopped midway through a word, a talking segment began.

The show host was directly addressing you. And in that moment, you knew that you were done for-- one you heard that voice, everything started to make so, so much sense.

"My oh my, it seems like we have a special listener!" He'd started out, and it felt like there was somebody watching you. Hair on the back of your neck stood immediately, skin crawling as you nearly dropped the radio in fear-- your hands having grown clammy and trembling.

Laughter, cruel and mocking-- as you fumbled with the radio "Ah ah ah, don't drop it! That is quite priceless to me, you little thief."

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and in a moment of haste, you haphazardly tossed the radio onto the sofa-- not doing it too hard, making sure not to damage it in the meanwhile-- and quickly stood, ready to get the hell out of dodge.

Something grabbed at your ankle, and you shrieked-- a shadowed, clawed hand was coming out from the ground. Its nails dug through the cheap material of your pajama pants, and you toppled over; wincing as you landed directly on your tailbone.

That was, by far, the least of your worries at that point of time.

"I apologize, loyal listeners! We'll have to go to intermission, but I assure I will be back-- a new guest in tow, if all goes accordingly!" More laughter-- cackling, before it cut to a soft, almost lulling sort of music.

It did little to calm your nerves-- in fact, it worsened them tenfold, knowing what was to come next. Who was to come next,

A wordless cry escaped you, frantically clawing at the hand around your ankle-- but it was almost... slippery, non-corporeal as well. You couldn't seem to get a grip on it, as it just--

Your fingers just moved right through it, and it tightened its death grip in warning. But you were too afraid by now, the realization that for the past five year you'd been staying in the Radio Demon's house came crashing down on you in an instant.

That's why it hadn't been ransacked already, why it had such nice things, why there was barely anything that exceeded the 1930s technology or aesthetically wise-- the mounted deer heads, the-- the everything!

You'd fallen after he took his 'sabbatical', but you still heard so much of him. In the past few years, the fear of him had died down-- but still,

You knew exactly what he meant by a 'new guest'.

In that moment, you had the stupid thought of I'm too young to die like this, which was ridiculous, because you were already dead. You were in Hell,

and yet, the truth lied in the 'like this' part of that statement. You didn't want to be tortured and eaten on air, you didn't want all of Hell (or at least a very, very large portion of it) tuning in to hear the first 'guest' The Radio Demon got on his show post-disappearance.

Stomach flipping, vision blurring from your tears, your ears rang as your heart worked overtime-- You're sure your face was red and blotchy, tears already making tracks down your cheeks.

Half-hysterical, you were saying "Please, please, please--" in such a desperate tone, directed to no one but yourself. begging yourself to just grab the hand and rip it off, to make it out of this in one piece--

You don't know why you fought so hard, and as you look back, you realize that might've been what made Alastor want to keep you (for the time being). Surely, he adored the fact that you-- teetering on the edge between child and adult, crying and begging-- fighting so hard for a life not worth living.

Really, you had nothing to fight for. No family down here, no friends or even acquaintances, nobody knew you; you were a hermit, one of the younger sinners that people assumed would be snuffed out quickly, and leave behind little to no impact.

Panic surged as you look to your right, a pool of shadows forming-- then, out came the tip of antlers. Then, fluffy ears-- a head, shoulders...

And soon enough, the shadows dissipated. Leaving behind what you assumed, what you were so sure would've been your killer.

He'd opened his mouth-- but as he looked at you, for a reason entirely unknown to you; he buffered. Looking down at you, sobbing and shaking-- lip wobbling, face red and soaked with tears.

You know you looked pathetic at that point.

Maybe that's why he did what he did, why his demeanor entirely changed as he crouched down. Antlers shrinking and the static surrounding him dying down (though never ceasing entirely) as he extended his arms your way. Like he was trying to beckon forward a scared child.

And maybe you did look like one-- but you hardly believe that he genuinely saw you as one.

You know men like Alastor, you know that they could never make room for anyone else in their hearts but themselves-- and a select few people who'd managed to worm their way into his close circle; one way or another.

You were not one of those people.

And yet, he did not harm you.

Even as an indeterminate amount of days, weeks-- maybe even months, passed; he still hasn't harmed you once. He clothes you, he gives you gifts upon gifts (nearly all of which go unopened, shoved in an ever growing pile in the very corner of your room)-- he set you up in a nice room, he feeds you; he claims that you can have all you ever wanted, as long as you ask.

You never did. It was a trap, and you knew it. He was-- was trying to lure you into trusting him. You don't know why he was doing this, maybe he got bored with every horrible act he did being a one-and-done thing.

He was fattening you up like a pig to the slaughter. Making your life all nice and cushy, only to pull the rug from under your feet and reveal what you knew all along.

No matter how many times he said something along the lines of "I won't hurt you, you're safe here, my fawn." or "I view you as my own, a child I never knew I wanted before you came along.", you knew how people like him went about life. People were stepping stones to their goals, his being entertainment; always getting the last laugh.

Once upon a time, you'd heard that his youngest 'guest' he had featured was an 11 year old-- early in his stay in Hell, right as he began to blossom into a fearful Overlord, that child had done something to upset him.

That was, allegedly, back in the mid '30s; and that after that, he never dipped lower than 19 year old. Now, you aren't entirely sure how true that could've been, either part of the claim--

But it was all you had.

You were curious, but not foolish enough to externalize that curiosity. Especially not to like Alastor.

He didn't keep you in the cottage you'd grown accustomed to-- he took you somewhere else. It looked like the cottage; all the way down to the knick-knacks you'd placed all around, right before you made the mistake of touching that radio,

It was always dark out, and when you look out the window-- it was not a forest, but a swamp-- bayou, what-have-you. It was a wetland, with fireflies buzzing around at all times,

There never was a moon, the only light outside came from what seeped out of the faux-cottage and the fireflies that were all over, but that hardly illuminated much.

You didn't leave your 'room'-- the room that looked like the one you'd claimed as your own in the real cottage. He tried coaxing you out of it a lot-- tried making you move rooms, saying he'd set up a room much more suited to your needs.

Every single time, you gave a quiet shake of your head-- that was the furthest those one-sided conversations ever got. Alastor didn't seem too pleased with it, but he laid off it. Didn't force it on you, and he'd then bring you food on a little bed-tray.

Today, you got a little too bold-- or perhaps you just wanted it over with, finally coming to terms with the only way out of here was... well, to force Alastor's hand and get him to snap-- then kill you.

It was obvious he wasn't going to let you go any other way.

You left the room for-- jesus, it must've been the first time you'd done so since the first couple days after you got stuck in this strange other-cottage. The living room didn't look very different.

Noticeably, the trinkets you'd placed before were right where you'd placed them. Not a centimeter out of place.

You tried to ignore it, and sat down on the sofa. You frowned at the Philco Cathedral radio beside you, sitting oh-so-innocently on the accent table near your head.

You glared at it, and while you knew that, realistically speaking, you were entirely to blame for getting in this situation-- not so much the radio, it was still a little cathartic to have something else to blame but yourself.

You turned around and laid on the couch, arms crossed as you pulled your legs to your chest-- back of your head resting against the arm of the couch, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. Tried to pass time that way,

Predictably, your nerves refused to let that happen. But you retreated into your mind-- and soon enough, you heard Alastor shadow-warp in. You kept your eyes closed, tried to look as peaceful as possible. As vulnerable as you could, open and easy to atta--

A hand, a hand landed on your cheek. it was soft, caring, even. It confused you. Did he know you were awake? Was he trying to pull one over on you as well, because theres no way he'd do this if he didn't know you were witnessing it--

His hand pulled away, and you heard his footsteps pattering away; a door opening, fainter footsteps, the door closing-- and his footsteps getting closer.

Then, you felt something being thrown over you. It wasn't easy, resisting the urge to snap your eyes open-- obviously he knew you were awake, trying to trick you by being all sweet; reaching levels of deception you never thought possible before.

You realizing he was trying to deceive you, because you were trying to deceive him-- and any such combination, made your head hurt if you thought about it too long.

Then, he leaned forward; you knew this because his hair brushed against your cheek in the process; both hands went to your face-- cupping your cheeks as he leaned forward and planted a little kiss on your forehead.

He began to tuck you in, and brushed some stray hair from your forehead. In a soft, almost reverent tone, he said "Sweet dreams, little fawn.", then ran his hand through your hair one last time--

Then he was gone. And nothing more came of it-- it was a little embarrassing to admit you'd really fallen asleep, so you reasoned with yourself that you hadn't. Just as you opened your eyes (which you'd totally just been resting, absolutely no sleep having found you. nope, nuh uh), you realized you hadn't been alone.

On the other side of the sofa, pressed as far against the other arm as possible-- almost like it was afraid of startling you if it got too close, was Alastor's weird Shadow creature. The same one that had restrained you that day you'd turned on the radio and spelled your own doom.

"...Hi?" You asked, trying to make yourself sound as groggy as possible (as if you needed to put any conscious effort into that in the first place); trying to sell the impression that'd you'd just been asleep, even though the Shadow probably knew otherwise (you hoped it believed that you hadn't actually fallen asleep, but you're pretty sure it did because nothing felt out of place-- obviously it hadn't attacked you while asleep).

It chirped, jolting up. It's face split in to a jagged grin(?), bright neon blue made up its mouth and eyes as it jumped from its seat and ran to the kitchen. You sat up, blanket falling into your lap; it was a nice, large quilt made up of reds and earth tones. Alastor's signature colors, and if you had to guess, he'd probably pulled it from the storage room.

You'd never been in his bedroom, but you doubt he'd sully a blanket he sleeps with by putting it on you. Even if the point of doing so was to manipulate you or whatever the hell he was playing at.

Around 30 seconds later, Alastor popped his head out of the archway leading into the kitchen. He found you rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm, just now awake enough to realize you smelled something cooking in the kitchen.

Oddly enough, he didn't speak until you pulled your hand from your eye and registered his presence. You looked up at him, eyes wide-- confused. His... his smile,

It looked so real, so genuine. It was soft, something you never thought a man like him could accomplish-- either in a genuine or otherwise manner. It reached his eyes, causing the skin around them to crinkle slightly.

And for a second, just one second, you believed that he actually did care for you.

When he spoke, he did it quietly. He sounded... different, and at first you couldn't quite place your finger on the difference.

"Mornin' fawn! Did you have a good rest?"

First off, he sounded way too... eh, cheery-- actually happy to see you, and like he actually wanted an answer to his question. And secondly, he sounded southern! With how much he talked about being from New Orleans, you should've made the connection that he had an actual accent underneath that transatlantic one; it was so jarring, hearing it gone completely like it was.

You sat in silence for a little bit, Alastor waiting for you to respond to pick up the conversation. Not rushing you, just standing there. God, if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was being patient with you!

In lieu of a verbal response, not trusting yourself to keep the bewilderment out of your voice; you gave a quick nod, and his smile grew by a fraction. He probably thinks he's caught you in his trap--

He gave you one last look, before turning around and heading back into the kitchen. You heard something boiling, and you didn't know what he was making-- it smelled good, though.

"That's good." He called from the kitchen, and it felt so terribly domestic that it had your stomach flipping. Him (seeming to be) peacefully cooking, continuing to talk to you even as he did so.

You were beginning to feel nauseous, no longer liking this game he was playing (let's be honest, you never did-- but it was getting too real, blurring too many lines. you knew that, at some point, he would up the ante; but you really wish he hadn't),

(he's beginning to make you believe it, despite you knowing for a fact it was all a dirty trick to get your guard down.)

"I'm so happy you've started to warm up to me!" He started again, and you clenched your hands in the soft, probably expensive, quilt fabric. I'm not warming up to you, your mind supplied-- trying desperately to grasp at straws, and hide away from the fact that you were, you were starting to really believe his lies.

You suppose that it was inevitable, that being isolated with just Alastor (and his shadows, but they were extensions of him-- they didn't count much as another person) for long would get to your head.

You'd like to think that you were mature, hardened by living in Hell for 5 years beforehand-- but deep down, you knew you weren't. That little showcase you'd done when you two first met, cowering on the ground as you sobbed and shuddered and fruitlessly clawed at your restraint was more than enough to prove that.

After everything, you were still a child. You were still that scared little kid, who thinks they're so much better than all their classmates because one of your teachers said "You're so mature for your age!" as an offhanded comment.

There was some clanging and clattering coming from the kitchen, a cabinet opening and something being taken out. A pan, probably; it sounded like a large, flat metal thing. A baking sheet, actually; not just a regular pan.

What on earth was he making in there? A dangerous, curious part of you wondered. Urging you to stand up and go look, but you keep firmly rooted to you spot on the couch. You wouldn't walk right into a trap, you refused to be that unknowing fly that didn't see the spider-web right in front of their face.

You heard (what you assumed to be) the baking pan placed on the tile countertop, a drawer being pulled out, metal utensils clinking together--

"You know," He started off, a bit more rustling came from the kitchen before he continued his though. "I was starting to worry that you never would," He paused, and if you didn't know any better-- you'd say he sounded sad.

But as soon as it showed up, it was thrown right out the window-- Alastor exchanging what seemed to be genuine emotion for the upbeat, almost saccharine sweet tone he'd held moments prior.

"But, I'm so glad you decided to prove me wrong! It was torturous for me, my child refusing to so much as look my direction when not forced to..." Alastor trailed off, leaving you in relative silence-- the conversation went dead for a while, as you process his words.

When you realized what he'd called you, panic flooded you. He'd never called you that before-- or maybe he has, and you just tuned it out. He said so many things, all of which you had a very hard time believing were based in even an ounce of truth;

Maybe it was the tone that finally brought your attention to the title-- his child. You were not his child! You were some random squatter who just so happened to be a minor! You weren't a kid, and you certainly weren't his kid--!

"I'm not-" You tried to say, spine stiffening, hair on the back of your neck standing straight up at the realization. But, in true Alastor fashion, he quickly cut you off and diverted your attention-- out of the blue asking "Could you come and help, my dear? I think it's about time you start learning how to cook."

okay, rude, you thought. Alastor couldn't have known you for more than a few months; you're sure you would've realized if a year had passed (you hope you would, anyways), and never once had he asked if you could cook.

You had half a mind to try and push how far his patience could go, refuse to stand-- to follow his 'invitation' (demand) for you come help him in the kitchen.

A much more rational part of you screamed at you that no, no-- don't do that, you absolute idiot!

You wish you could say you didn't give in to him, that you stayed right where you were and tested how far he'd go with his promise of not hurting you. That would, however, be a lie.

It was almost like you were on autopilot, pulling the blanket off and making a half-assed effort to fold it before setting it on the couch. You felt a little numb as your feet seemed to move on their own, eventually leading you to the kitchen.

One hand of the edge of the entryway, you stood cautiously at the very edge between the living room's hardwood floor and the kitchen's black-and-white checkered tiles.

You're not sure how long you stood there-- not long at all, you think. Alastor turned around, offering a small, horribly soft smile and quietly beckoning you.

You took one step in, and Alastor laughed at that; he lifted his arm, gesturing to his right. Obviously, he was instructing you to come stand by his side.

It was out of fear, you told yourself-- that when you'd followed his orders, standing next to him; you didn't fight at all when he laid his arm over your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

"Isn't this kind of impractical?" You asked, mumbling under your breath-- you were halfway between wanting Alastor to hear and not wanting him to, but of course, the former was the outcome.

Alastor's hand had settled on top of your head, absent-mindedly smoothing down your hair as his other hand whisked eggs into... something. He laughed, amused. Not entertained, not the joy he so obviously took in toying with others-

He sounded endeared.

That spelled the beginning of the end for you-- for your staunch position on the idea that Alastor was just messing with you, playing the long game and what not.

The realization of how... real he was being, with his actual accent out in the open... it opened the floodgates, and your grip started slipping on the idea that Alastor wanted to do you harm.

He was patient, more patient than you'd ever think he could be (from you'd heard previously, of course), he cares about your boundaries (somewhat, but that's way, way more than you ever thought you'd get with him), he fed you, he provided you with clothes and books-- claiming he'd give you anything if you'd just ask.

Your head felt full of cotton, ears ringing slightly-- drowning out Alastor response of "Mm, i suppose it is. But is it such a crime for a father to want to have his darling child close?"

Numbly, you shook your head, only have vaguely registered what he said. He gave a pleased hum, and went back to his cooking.

Really, he wasn't teaching you anything-- just doing his own thing while he kept you glued to his side.

You found yourself not minding it too much. You couldn't find it in yourself to care that you didn't mind it, actually.

[harryspurpleloofah]

Elevator

(Picture is from my policeman premiere from hshq.in)

Summary: Harry’s staying at a hotel and he meets a woman who’s there for a gala in the reception. They get stuck in an elevator together and things escalate

Warnings: swearing, fingering, p in v sex, no condom but the reader specifies she’s on birth control, smut

The sound of her friends’ laughter echoed faintly behind her as she stepped into the hotel elevator. The soft click of her heels against the polished floor was the only sound in the otherwise silent space. The party had been a whirlwind—champagne, music, and a lot of noise—and now, the quiet of the hotel felt like a welcome reprieve.

She hit the button for the eleventh floor and leaned back against the mirrored wall, adjusting the strap of her shimmering dress. The elevator doors began to close, but just before they could seal shut, a deep voice called out, “Hold it!”

She quickly presses the open button to let the man in. He was tall, lean but broad-shouldered, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, revealing just a hint of his collarbone. His messy hair fell over green eyes, and there was something effortless about the way he carried himself like he hadn’t been in a hurry at all.

“Thanks,” he said, stepping inside, his voice low and smooth. He flashed her a quick smile, one dimple deepening.

“No problem.” She replied, stepping back a bit from the panel so he could pick which floor he was heading to.

He reached over, letting her inhale his Tom Ford fragrance which she recognised from a colleague who worked with her. He pressed the button for the 7th floor and smiled at her again.

“Long night?” he asked, glancing at her reflection in the mirrored wall.

“You could say that,” she replied, catching his gaze in the reflection. “How about you?”

“Just got here,” he said, leaning casually against the side of the elevator. “Checking in for the weekend.”

“Are you on holiday here or..?”

“No more like a business trip kinda thing. I’m Harry by the way.”

“Y/n.”

Before either of them could say more, the elevator jolted throwing both of them off balance. Harry reached out steadying himself against the wall, while she grabbed the railing. The elevator came to an abrupt halt, the lights flickering once before switching to a dim emergency glow.

“For fucks sake you have to be joking.” She muttered under her breath. The floor indicator was stuck on five and none of the buttons responded to her touch.

Harry straightened, furrowing his brows. “That’s… not supposed to happen, is it?”

“No,” she replied, pressing the emergency button. A tiny voice crackled over the speaker. “Please remain calm. The elevator is experiencing technical difficulties. A technician has been dispatched.”

Harry glanced at her. “Well, that’s reassuring.”

She sighs loudly after ten minutes. “What is this?”.

Harry chuckles, “this is not ideal is it now?”

“Far from.”

“There’s worse people to be stuck in an elevator with aren’t there?”

She smiles slightly, “I have no problem with you. I’m just really tired. And my feet are killing me.”

Harry’s gaze flickered down to her heels and he made an empathetic face, “Jesus those look like they’d hurt in minutes let alone the entire night.”

“Exactly. But they look nice in the moment so it’s kinda worth it.”

They both went quiet for a second when Harry saw her head looking around the elevator, “looking for a way out?” He questioned.

“No I’m looking for a camera.”

“Why what are you planning on doing?” He teases. She chuckles.

“Nothing like what you’re thinking. I just wanted to know if we’d die in here alone or maybe they’d find us.”

“The lady on the button said they’ll be here in a bit don’t worry.”

“She said that twenty minutes ago.”

“So they should be coming any minute now.”

As if on cue the lights flickered and the elevator jolted again. “What the fuck?” She exclaimed. Harry sighed as he shrugged off his blazer.

“It’s getting awfully warm in here.”

“What if we suffocate?” She asks in panic.

Harry looks like he’s considering it for a second before shaking his head, “no elevators aren’t sealed. We won’t suffocate.”

She calms down a bit, “but we might starve.” He points out.

“You’re not helping!”

He raises his hands in surrender while laughing, “sorry sorry. I couldn’t resist. Don’t worry we’re gonna be fine.”

She sighs and sinks down in the corner, holding her knees to her chest. Harry looks over, “sweetheart if it makes you feel better I’d be trying to get us out right now but my engineering skills are non existent.” He says.

She smiles slightly at his attempt of a joke as he sits down next to her. “You ok?” He asks gently.

“I’m fine. I just got a bit panicked sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it love. It’s normal this isn’t a regular situation.”

They wait for another five minutes and nobody’s still there.

“I have to admit,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “this is starting to feel like one of those scenes in your romance novels.”

Her breath catches, and she couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “What makes you think I read romance novels?”

He gestured to the book peeking out of her bag, his smile teasing. “Just a hunch.”

She chuckles, “okay I enjoy one from time to time. They’re not as bad as some people say yknow.”

“Yeah. But there are some real gems..that are honestly painful to read”

She laughs and nods, completely agreeing. She looked back at him. He had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen. Fuck it he was the prettiest guy she’d ever seen. His curls fell around his face like he was strategically painted to look that way. His lips were a shade of pink that she couldn’t believe was natural. She realised she was staring and looked back.

“I suppose this wasn’t how I was planning on ending my night but I don’t mind entirely,” he smiled, nudging her shoulder slightly.

“Me too. You’re right there are worse people I could be stuck with right now,” she continued.

“Much worse.”

Another ten minutes pass and they’re both just waiting it out now. “If we were to pry the door open..”

“Nah. Wouldn’t work. We’d just end up getting stuck because the elevator might start moving while you’re trying to get out.”

He sighs and jabs his ringed finger into the emergency button again to which they hear the same voice reassuring them it won’t be too long now. He sits back down.

“I like your rings.” She said quietly, what she meant was that she’d take all five fingers if she could. She didn’t know if it was the elevator air or if she was just going a bit crazy but her attraction to him was just growing. And the fact that there was no visible camera in the elevator wasn’t helping things.

As if Harry was thinking the same thing, he pointed out, “we sure there’s no camera?”

“I don’t know but I can’t see one.”

He shifted a bit, looking straight ahead instead of at her now. “You dating anyone?” He casually asked.

“Not at the moment no.”

“Oh.”

“Well there was a guy.”

“And?”

She sighs, “his name is Josh, I dated him for a bit but he was just always looking at other girls and..comparing me so it was bad for me..”

“God what a loser.”

“Yeah…” She laughs. “Completely unrelated but he wasn’t very good at sex,”

“Well…you could still have a good personality.”

“Yeah but he didn’t so he was lacking in everything.”

After a bit more gossiping about some of the ickiest men on earth who had somehow just all managed to squeeze into her love life, Harry laughed.

“Ok you’ve told me the worst, have you ever actually had good sex?”

“Honestly? I haven’t. All my time alone has been better than any time with someone else. It’s like men who are good at sex barely even exist anymore.”

The elevator jolts again. Harry sighs, “you ok?”

“I’m good don’t worry.”

Harry starts looking at her again. She’s so pretty and the bad experiences with sex are just turning him on even more. Just making him feel like he could give her so much more than anything she’s ever had. He tries to distract himself as much as he can but it’s just not working. His trousers start becoming tighter and tighter. It’s getting noticeable.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t drenched in her own thong as well. She was equally as turned on as him if not more, it just wasn’t as visible. She looked in the mirror and realised her lip gloss had come off again. She sighed and reached into her purse to get the tube.

As she put it on she could feel his warm green eyes on her. It made her want to absolutely melt but now she was trying to get a reaction out of him. Did she want it? A hookup? In an elevator, with the risk of being caught in the middle of it by a maintenance team? Fuck yes.

But she needed to make sure Harry was in too. As she spread the liquid over her lips her gaze flicked over to try to gauge his reaction. He was looking at her with interest, his blazer resting around his crotch area. Was he trying to hide an erection?

He wasn’t giving her any distinct signs and he seemed really nice, she didn’t want to ruin what she’d already made with him by being weird and asking him, a total stranger for a hookup in an elevator that was stuck on the fifth floor.

She froze when his ringed fingers brushed his arm, not closely enough to be sexual but not far enough to be platonic. “You’re gorgeous. You know that?” His voice gently says.

“Thanks..”

“Do you want this?” He asked

“I-I think I do yes.”

“I don’t want I think love, I want I know. Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

He licks over his lips before moving over her to capture her newly coated lips in a kiss. It was soft, both their lips slowly falling in love with each other. His tongue came in later, nudging a gap in her mouth to enter and when it did it was like it would never leave, exploring her mouth with so much confidence like he owned it already she just didn’t know.

He lifted her up and pinned her against the mirror before turning her around, making her face herself, “look at how pretty you look for me baby. I’ve had to sit here and just watch you and not do anything about it for the last hour.”

He kisses her neck gently, savoring each bit of her skin like he has to ration it, sucking gently on bits then soothing them with his tongue just as quickly before she’s in any real pain. He starts sliding off his rings, throwing them on the floor to land on top of his discarded blazer, “don’t want these to hurt you pet.”

He unzips her dress and helps her get it off. He takes her thong, sliding it down her legs and checks if she’s wet enough, which she is, soaking. “You don’t need lube baby yeah?”

“Yeah-yeah I’m fine,” she replies breathlessly.

He inserts a finger, she lets out a moan. He adds another and begins to thrust them both in and out stretching her out for himself, “I’m quite big baby will you be able to take me?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

“Of course you will. Good girl.”

She moans again, gripping onto the hand railing with on hand and Harry’s arm with the other to balance herself because her legs are a lost cause now, completely turned to jelly. He unclips her hair and lets it fall down, “beautiful,” he mutters, putting it to once side and going back down on her neck as his fingers worked her.

“That’s it baby come on my fingers f’me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, letting go instantly with a sigh of relief as she feels like climax taking over her body. “Now tell me what you need honey?” He urges.

“You-your cock please.”

“Again?”

“Your cock Harry.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Hold still for me ok?”

She obliges and looks up at herself in the mirror while she waits, all her efforts to get dolled up tonight down the drain, her mascara is messy, her gloss smeared, her hair not in the updo anymore, one of her earrings missing, she looked completely ruined.

He teases her with just the tip, “love I’m asking you again,” his tone is gentle, like it was before when he was talking to her normally “are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you on birth control? I don’t have a condom.”

“Yes! Harry fuck please yes.”

He can’t do it anymore either, he pushes in completely earning a deep moan from her, she feels like she’s being split in half on his cock and he’s gently raising her chin everytime it falls for her to get eyefuls of the pleasure on her face as he pounded into her from behind.

“Oh god baby you’re so tight..”

She groans, her hand going back to pull him closer by the neck to which he obeys, finding her lips in a loving reassuring kiss, praising her for being able to take his cock so well.

His thrusting becomes faster but less deep as he also chases his high, he waits for her though, making sure she’s completely satisfied before worrying about himself.

“I’m so close Harry,” she reassured him, egging him on to go a bit deeper to carry her there. She comes hard with a plethora of guttural moans that push him over the edge too, shooting a hot load in her. She feels so..full. Even after he pulls out she’s just in that mania of orgasm.

He smiles at her while still breathing heavily, zipping himself back up, still supporting her around the waist making sure she won’t fall. He crouches over to get a pack of tissues from her bag which he uses to clean her up and then another to clear her gloss and mascara. Most of her makeup came off but he doesn’t mind. She’s just as gorgeous if not more.

He scans the elevator floor for her missing earring and wipes it down before giving it to her and watching as she slips it in the hole in her earlobe. Then he helps her put her dress back on and gives her some time to catch her breath.

When she’s conscious enough to know what’s happening, he’s crouched over her bag, writing something on her notepad, the maintenance team standing by the open door gesturing them to come out.

She gets outside and the warm light of the lobby hits her, a stark contrast to the cold one in the elevator. She’s about to look around for Harry but he’s standing right next to her. “Do you wanna come back to my hotel?” He gently asks.

She smiles, “thanks but my house isn’t far, I’d love to keep in touch though.”

He grins and hands her the slip of paper, with his number on it. “Whenever you want Angel. Just give me a ring.”

He leans in a bit closer, “honestly disappointed I didn’t even properly take off my shirt for you love. We’ll do that all next time kay?”

He winks at her and starts walking back up to the stairs, deliberately avoiding the elevator this time. What a man. She looked down at the number. She knew this was gonna be on speed dial from now on.

[starozzes]

hi mootie!! vi from arcane rentry layout pretty please :3........

NF2U　ꪆ⁣　F2U with credits / ♡ + reblog (( F2U for @lxversvalk only ))

Note⁣　⸝⸝⁣⠀⠀tbh, might use this for my own rentry..... I love vi guys WOOFS

[perr1e]

Lest stimboard!!

An attempt at a stimboard although I'm not the biggest fan of making them myself :>

All gifs are from Pinterest!

I kinda wanna post my bunches of lest headcanons cus why not:3

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

[infectedrpd]

✞⠀┈⠀⠀Bigby Wolf (Fables) layout⠀⠀𓂃

₊﹚⠀self indulgent

₊﹚⠀f2u /w⠀;⠀credits + reblogs

₊﹚⠀Bigby my beloved <3

⠀†⠀f2u without credit only if requester.⠀†

[honey-pages]

Mine - Viktor x Reader

Description -

Viktor performs oral on virgin Reader.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Oral. Virgin Reader.

“How do you know so much about everything?” You joked. 

You had not expected Viktor to take it so seriously. He seemed a little wounded. 

“Do I appear to think I know so much about everything?” He asked in response.

“I didn’t mean it like that Viktor” You explained, “I just meant that you are so intelligent and knowledgeable, sometimes I can feel a bit out of my depth.”

“Ah” He looked saddened “I had never considered that you would feel this way, you keep up with me so well”

The sight of him disheartened hurt. 

“I think it’s really attractive.” You try to reassure him, “When you know so much. It’s never a negative”

He chuckled, “You find my knowledge attractive?”

“Well, I find the whole of you attractive, but there’s something special about hearing things that you are clearly well-educated in.”

“Oh really?” He asks, “My education isn’t strictly academic you know”

Viktor looks amused, leaning forward on his elbows across the table at you. You had been flirting in his study for some time and it appeared to be coming to a natural conclusion. You were nervous though still confident in the experience being positive and what you wanted. You were very inexperienced sexually and this long period of flirtation proved enough for you to decide exactly how you wanted it. 

“Teach me” You state.

“Teach you what?” He asks with a bemused smile.

“Something non-academic”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

“Follow me to my bed, Miss (Y/N).” He invites.

Viktor’s bedroom is adjoined to his study, the two spaces linked by a door. As he stands, he reaches out a hand and you take it and follow him. His bedroom is clean, warm and dark, with a small lamp in the corner and a made bed to the right wall. Viktor closes the door behind you.

Viktor leads you to the bed and sits next to you. He turns and looks at you for a long while, examining the curves of your face and the familiar look of your skin. He is honoured you are trusting him in this way and equally excited at being in this position. He had felt romantically towards you for quite some time however was not sure you returned his feelings. Today had given him the courage to pursue them, your flirtatious conversations had become a green light encouraging him to indulge himself in your affection. 

You could see something in the way he watched you, judging and perceiving. He raised his hand to your face, his thumb swiping over your cheek and moving to grip the back of your head, playing with your hair. He pulls you in for a passionate kiss. 

“I am going to teach you” He manages, between breaths and kisses, “how my tongue feels.”

At this, Viktor increased his urgency, kissing you hungrily. He reclines you onto his bed, your head on his pillow as he lays above you, supporting his weight on his arms. He slips a knee between your thighs. 

“I will start with the basic principle” He starts, licking at your tongue gently, as if testing the temperature.

“Then maybe I will introduce some alternative methods” He continues, removing his mouth from yours to follow the curve of your jaw to your neck. When at your ear, he stops. His breath is warm and heavy, and it sends shivers through you when he speaks. His knee is pressing into you, its weight unbearable. The pressure against you was enough to make your hips move on their own, riding his thigh. 

Viktor watches you attempt to find friction, he grins, finding the sight amusing. 

“All it takes is my knee to elicit this reaction Miss (Y/N), I will make easy work of you with my mouth.”

You try to flirt back, “Viktor- “

Viktor’s knee is moving now, grinding at you relentlessly. His mouth is licking and biting at your neck, trailing to your chest. He shifts his weight to hold one of your hands, lifting it above your head and pinning it there. With his other hand, Viktor lifts your shirt, rearranging your bra to get a better view of you. 

“I am going to give you a demonstration” Viktor lowers his mouth to your breast, tilting to the side so you can view what he is doing with his tongue. Viktor licks gently at the very tip of you, then beginning to swirl his tongue around the sides, takes you into his mouth sucking with firm pressure. The feel of him and the sight of his tongue and lips on you makes you grind harder against his knee. His mouth is hot. His hand cups you and he squeezes, incorporating teeth to gently graze you. Between nips of his teeth, he rapidly flicks his tongue, continuing this with long smooth strokes. 

Viktor moves his mouth to kiss you again, he shifts down. The pressure of his knee is removed, and he shuffles towards the lower end of the bed. Kneeling, he pulls down your trousers, manoeuvring them under your hips and off down your legs. He discards them at the bottom of the bed. He lays flat on his front, face hovering just above the top of your thighs and hooks an arm under each of your legs, pulling you under his mouth. 

“Are you ready for me?” He asks.

He spreads open your legs slowly, laying them flat before him. He takes in the view, grinning happily. 

“I have often thought about this moment”

Viktor coats his fingers with his mouth, using the saliva he has already worked up. His fingers drip with it as he teases you open, sliding against your folds, holding you open and sensitive. 

“You are exactly what I imagined. No one before has had the pleasure of tasting you, have they Miss (Y/N)?”

You stumble, “No.”

“You belong beneath my tongue. You always have done.”

Viktor’s fingers circle your clit, tracing small shapes.

“Are you a virgin, Miss (Y/N)?”

You get quite nervous at the question. You were. You weren’t sure how Viktor would react. There was no reason why you though that he would react negatively, you had gathered he was experienced. If at least, more so than yourself. You had just become quite protective over it; you wanted the situation to be comfortable and equal.

“Yes.” You reply quietly.

You feel a blazing heat as Viktor closes his mouth around you, lapping with broad strokes against your clit. The inside of his mouth is wet, and you feel his saliva coat you, spreading warmth down and across your thighs. His tongue feels so smooth, he curls it and flicks it to achieve maximum sensation, and you are instantly coming undone. 

“Viktor!” You moan out.

“You moan so purely” He teases, “It is fitting that the only thing to have ever fucked you is my tongue.”

You push up and against his mouth. His words are sweet and when he speaks, your body reacts. You are desperate for him, for more of him. He thrusts his tongue inside. You instinctively wrap your hands into his hair. 

“Oh Viktor- “

He speeds up, flatly spreading his tongue between your entrance and your clit, focusing on either when reaching them. At your clit he rapidly flicks and sucks, increasing pressure and focus. 

“Just focus on the feeling, I want to hear the noises you make.”

You feel a strange rising in your core, like a building heat threatening to explode. It is raising as he quickens. Viktor is grinding into the bed, you notice it in his hips, he’s writhing. He wants you just as much as you want him. 

“You are mine” He murmurs, the words lost in the muffled sounds of the both of you. “Once I’m done having you on my face, I’ll have you on my cock.”

You are both desperate. You for release, and him for touch. 

“Viktor, Can I have- “Your words fail you.

“What do you want, Miss (Y/N)?”

“You, your cock, please- “

“Do you need it, Miss (Y/N)?” He asks, making eye contact while flicking his tongue backwards and forwards. 

“Yes Viktor, please” 

“How do you expect to take me when you haven yet experienced all that my tongue can do?”

Viktor tightens his grip and forces you down with more pressure against the muscles of his mouth. The feeling is rising again, that unfamiliar pleasure. You are near the edge you just can’t tell what that edge is, until you are spilling over it, desperately grinding over his tongue, coating his nose and chin with thick wetness.

“I’m- “You scream out.

Viktor drinks it down, swallowing you whole. He doesn’t dare move his mouth, he keeps his pace and encourages more and more from you. Your pleasure is blinding. 

“I can’t take anymore!” You moan out, trying to grip at his arms to loosen up their firm grasp on your thighs. 

“You are capable.” 

You are shuddering against him, sweating. He leaves a few little kisses over your clit before pulling away. His face is wet, his hair dishevelled. You notice the thick outline of him straining against his clothes. 

He reassures that you are comfortable before stating, “I am going to make you mine, Miss (Y/N).”

Tag List - @veru-boom, @gubkkki, @hi-hope-hop-in, @gloriousevolutionz

[lolana101]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒

⤷ VIKTOR: SLOPPY SECONDS

⤷ feat. viktor (arcane league of legends)

cw: 18+ , oral stimulation (m), edging, dirty talk, dom! f reader, saliva, nsfw, angst? enjoy!!

“i don’t do this.”

viktor’s accent was heavy against his tongue, his gaze weighted with an unsure haze. his now useless cane clutched in his hand as he stared down at you, between his legs. you knew you’d find him here, working late, jayce long gone. was hexcore even a shared project anymore?

his bad leg dangling over the work bench, his weight crushing the onslaught of papers and tools beneath him.

“i’ve never- done this.”

his breath hitched, as you softly caressed his thigh. a soft, hum arose from your throat in understanding, as you looked fixedly up at him.

“say something.. please.”

the cane clatters against the floor as he hesitantly reached and touched your cheek - a soft poke. did he think you weren’t real? he probably thought of that possibility once; he is always thinking.

“what do you want me to say?”

tour voice was soft, eyes never leaving his. his gaze flickered at the hexcore, the room enclosed in a soft blue hue.

you continued to softly rub his thigh, inching up and up.. you could feel the soft twitching of his thigh, the needy yet silent urges emanating from him. what did he look like voicing those sins?

then again, that’s why he liked you. you could practically read through him. you started to fiddle with his belt, sliding the leather off with practiced ease.

“you’re hard.”

you voiced, slowly rubbing the bulge through his pants. his breath paused, a soft buck up into your hands.

you leaned down, pressing soft kisses against his twitching, clothed need, humming softly. Your fingers slid up to his zipper, tugging it down and pulling away. With his jeans open, you could get a look. a soft dark patch forming as his pre-cum weeps through fabric.

his face was red now, those soft blemishes over his face highlighted with the blue. he looked gorgeous. his mouth was agape, silently begging. I guess he waited enough.

your hand softly jerked at the pretty, pink mushroom tip. his length astonishing, not too thick but freakishly long. your fingers slick with his arousal as he let out almost pathetic whimpers. his eyes fluttered close, his thick brown eyebrows curving at the softest stimulation of your hands. his semi - hard member rose up quickly, your finger slowly pumping, pulling up the shaft until your plant wrapped around his head, then moving down.

leaning closer your tongue swiped at the base, slowly trailing up until you could taste the salty need pouring out from him. he let out a shaky sigh, as your plush lips wrapped around his head, sucking and licking. your tongue swiping curiously at his hot need, your hand still gently stimulating him, though gradually gets pulled away as you take him deeper.

it felt so good, his legs twitching. deeper, is all he wanted. you soon obliged sinking down onto him, until your nose was pressed against the soft hair of his stomach, your throat contracting against him. he smelled good, the soft hairs under his stomach and lower smelled of soft musk. so manly.

“fuck..”

a breathless whisper, as your head bobbed on his throbbing cock, spit dribbling down his base only to get slurped back up. every movement had him twitching, he swore he would cum under the first minute. he couldn’t help it, his hand grasping at your curls, swiping them up into a bun to aid you into drilling his length into you. his dick twitched, heat pooling in his stomach threatening to spill.

“I-i’m..”

In an instant he twitched, though as the pleasure washed over him he let out an uncomfortable whimper, your tongue pressed roughly against the slit, humming. he huffed, staring down at you with pure need. his body was hot, needy. his hips twitching, your fingers moving to softly caress his bad leg easing the achy muscles.

“please..? why..”

you smiled up at him, his thighs twitching, as you kissed his base, sucking on his balls for a little before letting them go with a pop if your lips.

he was begging, you could see it. your wrist flicked at his head again, twisting, the lewd squelching echoing as he stared down at you. He was going to cum again, as he started to slowly fuck himself up into your palm.

he was getting more vocal, those sweet huffs turning into pliant begs, your wrist not moving anymore as you felt a familiar twitch in his base, before your thumb pressed against his tip.

“….f-fuck please-“

he whimpered, staring into your gaze, you were so evil. not letting him cum, not letting him desperately release that sweet orgasm he’s been holding - saving up for.

after a moment you remove your thumb, pressing a soft kiss against his tip before staring up at him, fingers skipping up his chest to grab his tie, hauling him down and pressing a sloppy kiss against his lips.

that taste, fresh black coffee. he chased your lips like a lost puppy, sloppy, licking up the dried drool off your lips, tasting the salty goodness he left on you.

“want me to make you cum yeah? fully?”

you asked, nipping at his neck before letting hip sit back up, your gaze down at your twitching cock.

“please? please please..”

he begged, your name rolling off his tongue, so close to sweet melody. you smiled up at him, before your gaze snapped back down, his hand wrapped around his base, as he pointed his needy dick to your lips.

that thick accent rolled your name off his lips for one last time, as you leaned down. your lips wrapped around him, head bobbing sloppily around his dick. you could hear him moan and groan, his hand sinking ti your scalp to guide your movements.

you were still in control, you both knew it. yet his needy whimpers allowed him to soften you just a little, to let him fuck your throat. his tip hitting the back of your throat, your hands splayed on his thighs. You could feel your own heat growing wet, pussy twitching just from him fucking his brains out into your mouth.

he let out a almost howl, your gaze snapping up at him, your eyes watered as you gaged slightly. you could feel warmth deep down your throat, his pretty pink cock twitching in your mouth. you came a a little too, your clothed clit twitching softly.

“…nng.”

he was still going through the after shocks, poor little viktor twitching, not even having the energy to form a sentence. he eased his cock out of you, It growing soft as he pulls you up, kissing you softly. he whined softly, feeling your hands softly jerk at his overstimulated sex.

“…good?”

“amazing.”

he pants out, nuzzling himself in your neck.

happy thanksgiving y’all !! hope he on my plate 😫please like and follow, and request!!

my most recent post here

[sweetfoxmojis]

could you do some of those cg holds but without the ears and horns? and also make some sad ones?

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi! Can I request a load era Kirk x wife!reader when he suggests (as a joke, but he’s playing it very seriously) thathe wants a “hall pass” to hook with a famous model or groupie to “spice up” their marriage cause to him, life has become boring; maybe Lars or James done it and now Kirk wants to try it too. She’s humiliated and threatens to divorce him - but he thinks she’s just joking too. He leaves for studio but then he comes back he finds that she left, but before she filled the divorce papers and called him a hooker for his “hall pass”? And he realizes that she took it seriously and feels stupid?

I hope you like it!❤

A pass too far

I didn’t know how it happened, but somewhere along the way, things started feeling... off. Our routine had become predictable, and I wasn’t blind to the way Kirk had started pulling away. He was restless, like he was missing something. And I tried, I really did, to make things exciting again. But no matter what I did, it felt like he wasn’t really here.

That night, when we sat down for dinner, I thought maybe we could have a conversation about it—maybe he’d finally open up, share what was on his mind. I didn’t expect the bomb he dropped.

“So, babe,” Kirk started, a little too casually, like he was testing the waters, “I’ve been thinking.”

My stomach fluttered a little, expecting him to say something like, "I love you," or maybe "Let’s take a vacation." Instead, what he said next made me freeze.

“I think we should spice things up a little,” he continued, his grin playful, “What if you gave me a hall pass?”

I blinked, sure I hadn’t heard him right. “A what?”

“A hall pass,” he repeated, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He leaned back in his chair, looking almost pleased with himself, “You know, like a free pass to hook up with a model or a groupie. You know, like Lars and James do. They do it, so why not me?”

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. This had to be some kind of joke. But the more I looked at his face, the more I realized he was completely serious. The smirk on his lips told me he wasn’t joking.

My chest tightened. I could feel the blood draining from my face as I tried to process what he was saying. A hall pass? To sleep with someone else? He was seriously asking me for this? Was he out of his mind?

My thoughts were racing, trying to make sense of it, but all I could manage to say was, “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not,” he said, almost too easily, as if this was just another idea he’d thrown out. “I just think, you know, things have gotten kind of boring. A little spice would be good for both of us, don’t you think? We could try something new.”

My hands were shaking now. I pushed my chair back and stood up, the anger rising in my chest. “So, let me get this straight,” I said, my voice trembling, “You want me to just give you permission to go fuck some random woman, and you think that’ll ‘spice things up’ for us?”

He shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah, why not? It’s not like it means anything. It could be fun.”

Fun? My stomach turned. I had never felt so small in my entire life. “So I’m supposed to just let you do that, right?” I laughed bitterly, the sound of it breaking through my shock. “Like I’m just supposed to sit here while you go out and hook up with someone else because you think our marriage is boring?”

“I’m just saying, it could work,” he added, his voice too casual for the storm raging inside me.

I shook my head, backing away from the table. The words caught in my throat, but the anger in my chest was making it hard to breathe. I had no idea how we’d gotten here, how I’d ended up here, with him suggesting that I just let him have some kind of free pass to do whatever he wanted. It was humiliating, and I felt every bit of that humiliation rising in my throat.

“No,” I said, my voice trembling with fury. “No way, Kirk. If you think I’m going to just sit here and let you do that, you’re out of your mind. That’s not how this works. I’m not your fucking hooker, Kirk. And if this is what you want, then I’m done. I’m done.”

His face shifted slightly, but he didn’t seem to fully grasp how serious I was. “Come on, babe, it’s just a joke. Don’t overreact. You’re being dramatic.”

I felt my heart break. "Dramatic?" I repeated, my voice shaking with disbelief. “You seriously think I’m being dramatic? You want to sleep with someone else, and I’m the one overreacting?”

“You’re not overreacting,” he said, finally standing up. “I’m just saying it could be fun—”

“No,” I cut him off, taking a step back. “You’re serious, and I’m not sticking around for this. If you want that, go ahead. But I’m done. We’re done.”

He didn’t try to stop me. He didn’t reach for me or beg me to stay. Instead, he just looked at me with this confused, almost smug expression, like he thought I was the one being ridiculous.

I grabbed my bag, the tears threatening to spill, but I was too angry to let them fall. I didn’t want him to see me break. Not like this. Not over something so stupid.

“I’m filing the divorce papers,” I said, my voice steady but cold. “And don’t bother trying to talk me out of it. You wanted a hall pass, Kirk. You can have it. But I’m not your second choice. I won’t be your joke.”

I left, slamming the door behind me, not caring about the sound or the chaos it left in my wake.

The next morning, I filed the divorce papers. I couldn’t believe it had come to this, but how could I stay with someone who thought so little of me? The worst part was, I had a feeling he didn’t even understand what he’d just done.

I thought about leaving him a note, but the words just came out so easily, so honestly. “I’m not your hooker, Kirk. Goodbye.”

I didn’t expect it to hit me like that.

I walked into the house after a long day at the studio, the sound of guitars and drums still echoing in my mind. The band's been busy with the new album, and there's always something brewing—something new to get excited about. But today, something felt off, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The house was quieter than usual. Too quiet.

I called out for her, but no response. Maybe she’d stepped out. Maybe she was out running errands. But no, something didn’t sit right. I walked through the house, checking every room, but there was no sign of her. Nothing.

Then I saw it.

The envelope on the kitchen table. My name was scrawled across it in that familiar handwriting. My stomach twisted.

I opened it without thinking, pulling the paper out. But when my eyes scanned the words, I felt a sudden wave of nausea.

“I’m not your hooker, Kirk. Goodbye.”

I read it again, blinking hard, as if doing so would make it all make sense. Goodbye? No, she couldn’t be serious. She couldn’t. My mind raced as I looked down at the divorce papers that fell out alongside the note. The room started to feel smaller, the air thinner.

I stumbled back a step, trying to make sense of what I was holding. My heart pounded in my chest. She’d really left. It was real. She was gone, and it was my fault.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, staring at the papers in my hand, still trying to wrap my head around it. My mind kept circling back to what I’d said earlier—the joke. It was supposed to be a joke. A stupid joke. But I didn’t realize how deeply it had cut her. How it had destroyed something that should’ve been sacred to both of us.

I felt like a damn fool. But I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know if I could.

Without thinking, I grabbed the phone from the wall, dialing the number I knew all too well. My hands shook as I punched in the digits, my mind screaming for her to pick up. She had to. She had to hear me out.

The phone rang, each ring feeling like a punch in my gut. I tried to steady my breath. She’ll answer, she’ll answer, I thought, but the ringing only grew louder in my ear, more deafening.

And then... it stopped. A dial tone.

I hung up, staring at the receiver in my hand. I didn’t even know what I’d say to her. What could I even say? The words felt useless, like a pathetic excuse for what I’d done.

My chest tightened, and for the first time, the gravity of everything hit me.

I didn’t know when I had become so careless. I didn’t know when I started thinking it was okay to make jokes like that. To push her away. But now, standing in this empty house, I understood.

The tears came, unbidden, but I didn’t try to stop them. There was nothing left to say. I had everything I wanted, all the fame, the music, the tours... But I had never understood how much I needed her—how much I loved her—until it was too late.

And now? Now I was alone. A fool, sitting in a house filled with echoes of things I could never get back.

I looked back at the divorce papers, the words dancing in front of me, almost mocking me. How could I have been so stupid?

I picked up the phone again, but I didn’t dial. I couldn’t. She wasn’t going to pick up. She was gone, and I had no idea if she’d ever come back.

[floruga]

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