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lieslab · 4 months

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Skz finds you struggling with self-harm

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Genre: Angst & comfort/hurt

Word Count: 10.8k

A/N: This was a request and each member deals with a different type of behavior that can be considered a form of self-harm. To whoever requested this, I'm sorry for taking about a week. In a word document, this is about forty-five pages, so thank you for being patient while waiting. I hope you can find some comfort here <3

_ _ _

Bang Chan:

TW: Cigarettes and brief mention of cancer.

"What is this?" Chan gestured towards you.

"What does it look like?" You grumbled with the end of the cigarette in the corner of your mouth.

You ignored your boyfriend and kept glancing off into the darkened sky. You thought he was asleep as you stepped out onto your balcony, but apparently not. Either he wasn't asleep or you accidentally woke him up when you snuck out of your shared bed.

He stayed quiet while he observed you. You ignored his heavy gaze and pretended he wasn't there. You adjusted the cigarette back to the middle of your mouth. The end glowed a warm orange while you inhaled another mouthful of the smoke.

The oversized hoodie hung off your body. You threw it on hoping it'd catch the scent of nicotine instead of your pajamas. Silence hung over the two of you along with the stars. You didn't utter a word. Quite frankly, you didn't want to tell your boyfriend why you were outside on your balcony smoking a cigarette at 4am.

It was almost like he could read your mind. You exhaled and the tendrils of smoke drifted off into the distance. Realizing this was his chance, Chan broke the silence.

"Do you wanna talk abo-"

"Nope," you cut him off.

He pressed his lips together trying to figure out what to say to you. He knew whatever you were going through was bad. You only turn to cigarettes when life seems unbearable. Too caught up in his own life, he hadn't realized you were struggling so much. Worry and guilt began to nip at him.

He had shifted to wrap his arm around you in the bed, but you weren't there. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a barren bed and your silhouette outside on the balcony. He knew what you were doing the moment he opened the balcony door. He was instantly engulfed by the scent of tobacco.

No wonder you tasted so much like peppermint lately. Chewing peppermint gum, one piece after the next. Showing up to his studio tasting like mouthwash. You brushed your teeth after you smoked. Swishing around mouthwash and chasing the mouth-burning liquid with more minty gum hoping it'd block out the scent.

"Bad day?" He finally offered.

You snickered, "more like a bad life."

His heart squeezed in his chest at your remark. Surely, you didn't associate him with the bad part of your life, did you? Yeah, he was busy a lot because of his job, but what about the times you shared? Was it all bad?

Sensing his worry, you changed your wording.

"It's not a bad life, but things seem to be piling up lately. It's one thing after the next after the next. I purchase a pack of cigarettes and then the nicotine releases dopamine. I know it's bad, but it brings me a state of peace. Is it terrible to just want to relax for a while?"

"No," he admitted after a few silent seconds. "It's not bad, but it's dangerous."

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes. In the brazen moonlight, Chan could see everything. The full moon lit up every feature of your face. Seeing you like this beneath the soft glow, he wanted to smile, but your words twisted him with trepidation.

"I know I should care," you reopened your eyes. You blinked trying to hide the tears building up. "But honestly, I really don't give a shit. It says right on the box that it can cause lung cancer. I already feel rotten enough on the inside, so maybe it's what I deserve."

"Nobody deserves that."

You stared down at the burning cigarette in your hand. Embers drifted into the darkness while others scattered onto the ground below. The rolled paper around the cigarette continued to burn. Your brain begged for you to take another hit of the nicotine, but now your heart was in turmoil.

"You are an adult, you know. You're free to live your life as you wish. No matter what you choose to do, I can't stop you. However, as your significant other, I don't want to see you hurt."

"I know," your voice came out weak. All those emotions you had been suppressing were coming up again. "Can I be honest?"

"Of course, you can."

"I hate the taste of them," you chuckled and dropped the cigarette. The heel of your shoe crushed it into the ground. Your fingers gripped the metal ledge of the fence around the balcony.

Chan didn't utter a sound.

"It's been going on for a while, unfortunately. For a month, at least, and I'm not sure if I can easily stop." You hung your hands together over the edge of the railing.

"That's alright, you don't have to quit cold turkey. Maybe try to wean yourself off of them, okay?"

"Okay."

Tobacco stained your teeth. The soured flavor clung to your tongue. The scent draped over you like a heavy curtain. You bit down on the inside of your cheek wondering how you were going to pull yourself away from the thing you spent the past month finding comfort in.

"You don't have to do it alone," Chan spoke up again. "I'll be right here if you need me. You can talk to me whenever you need to."

You nodded your head.

"Do you want to discuss what made you turn to them in the first place?"

"Not really."

"Then we don't have to do that." He turned back to the moon and changed the topic. "The full moon is beautiful tonight. I don't remember the last time I've been able to stare at the moon like this."

"It's nice."

"Peaceful and quiet."

You mumbled an agreement as a yawn left your mouth.

"You wanna go back inside and get some more sleep?"

"That sounds good."

Not bothered by the scent, Chan walked over and put an arm around your shoulders. The two of you walked back into your bedroom. He locked the balcony door while you pulled off the hoodie you were wearing. You headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

After climbing into the bed, you curled yourself up against your boyfriend, happy that you were able to find someone as patient and understanding as him.

_ _ _

Lee Know:

TW: Using alcohol to cope with problems, depression, and self-hatred.

Lee Know was used to you occasionally drinking. You did it, he did it, and your friends did it. However, when he came home on the third day in a row to find you with a bottle of wine, his eyebrows furrowed.

There you were curled up on your favorite spot on the couch. The large TV sat in front of you and you grinned while watching some raunchy romance show. His eyes scanned the area. A bowl of popcorn sat in your lap. A glass of wine was tucked into your hand. Too enthralled in your show, you didn't hear him come in.

The bright screen lit up the transparent bottle to show that it was nearly gone. You just opened that bottle yesterday, so how was it gone already? He blinked in shock and stepped closer towards you.

He snuck up behind you, without meaning to startle you, and stuck his hands on your shoulders. You let out a yelp and jumped. The popcorn bowl upturned and kernels and popcorn pieces scattered across the carpet.

"Sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Well, you did," you frowned and stared at the mess. You sighed, placed your glass on the coffee table in front of you, and began to stand up. The world seemed to tilt and you fell forward.

"Woah!" Lee Know jerked forward, grabbed the back of your shirt from over the couch, and yanked you back to safety.

You laughed as you plopped back down on the couch. Your boyfriend frowned at your reaction. If he wouldn't have caught you, you would have hit the coffee table. He kicked off his shoes and climbed over the edge of the couch. You giggled while he pulled you into his grasp.

He leaned back comfortably against the arm of the couch. With you in his arms, he tugged you back against his chest. Your ear was pressed up against his heart. The gentle thrum soothed your soul.

"How much alcohol have you had to drink today?" He began to run a hand through your hair.

You half-shrugged on top of him.

"One glass?"

"More."

"Two?"

"More."

"Three?"

"I don't know."

"Four?"

"Mmh, maybe."

He paused and glanced back over to the bottle of the wine. Last night, it was nearly full, so you drank more than half of it. You were upping your alcohol content steadily. He frowned and stared back at you. You seemed okay the past few days, but clearly something was bothering you.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

"Do you ever hate yourself?"

"Huh?" He was caught off-guard by your comment.

"Do you ever hate yourself?" You repeated. "Lately, I've been feeling like I'm not a very good person."

Lee Know kept watching you. You were pronouncing your words properly, so you must not have been too drunk. He glanced up at the analog clock stuck to the side wall. You were home before him in the early evenings. You had, at least, five hours to drink before he got home.

"Why do you think that you're not a good person?"

"I don't know."

"There must be some reason."

"I feel ugly!" You blurted out. "I feel gross and disgusting about myself. I look at myself in the mirror and I hate what I see. I've been sad and I haven't wanted to get out of bed. I have zero motivation to get out of bed or brush my teeth or do anything."

"Oh?"

"I feel icky inside and out. You tell me all the time that I'm beautiful. You're always there, but I'm not able to see myself like you are. Maybe I feel so gross because it's a struggle to get out of bed. I don't know, but the other day I had a glass of wine and it felt nice and then I had another and I felt okay again."

"So you're using alcohol to attempt to cope?" There was a sadness in Lee Know's voice.

"Uh-huh and you know what?"

"What?"

"It's working very well. I am so light and I feel so good. I feel like I can laugh again. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside."

Lee Know tilted himself closer towards your face. He leaned over you and cupped your cheeks gently. You peeled open your eyes and met his. A goofy grin filled your face at the sudden closeness.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Don't I make you feel warm and fuzzy? Do I have to remind you?"

"Of course, you make me feel that way! You give me butterflies. I love you so much, you don't even know. I can't put it into words how you make me feel."

"So you're feeling bad about yourself?"

"Uh-huh."

"What if I gave you a kiss every time your brain said something bad about you? You stop drinking the wine and I'll replace it with kisses."

His boba eyes stared intently into yours. You blinked in shock. It wasn't often that Lee Know was so touchy with you. He patiently waited for your answer and squished your cheeks a little more. A grin began to stretch across his face. He cooed and squished your cheeks more. You began to giggle at his antics.

"Is that a yes?"

"Uh-huh."

He bent down and gave you a quick upside down kiss. Still tipsy, you squealed in delight. He puckered his lips and did it again. Pulling away, he rubbed your cheeks. "So how was it?"

"I think I need another one."

"Already?" He threw his head back and let out a dramatic groan.

"You said if my brain was saying something bad!"

"That's right, I did say that. So I must prevail in my efforts to comfort the love of my life. Pucker up and get ready for a love bombing."

"A love wh-"

Before you could finish, he leaned down and began placing kisses all over your face. Your laughter only added fuel to his fire. He kept going and going and going until he ran out of air panting. He threw himself back over the arm of the couch gasping for breath.

"More!" You cried out.

"More?" He threw his hands up. "You're just taking advantage of my love!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around you tightly, and squeezed your body. You wiggled, but your arms were pinned to your sides. You whined and squirmed, but you were no match for him.

"What are you doing?"

"Prison of love." He planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. "You're here until further notice."

_ _ _

Changbin:

TW: Razors/razor blades, cutting, and self-hatred.

“They couldn’t have grown legs and walked away,” Changbin grumbled. He climbed further into the cabinet, beneath the bathroom sink, and pushed products aside. Dropped down on all fours, his torso was completely inside the darken and confined space.

He was attempting to try and find a pack of his disposable razors, but he couldn’t find any of them. He swore he just bought another pack last week, but they were missing. He pushed aside backup bottles of body wash and shampoo. Diving further into conditioner and cotton balls, he dug back further, but to no avail.

He pushed himself backwards and whacked his head on the top of the cabinet in the process. A loud groan left his mouth and it woke you up. In the room next door, you had fallen asleep early. Exhausted from another day at work, you were defeated by the time you came home. Within seconds of your body hitting the pillow, you were out.

You blinked your bleary eyes and rubbed them wondering what was going on. Through the thin bathroom door, Changbin was mumbling. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he seemed to be upset about something.

As you pushed yourself away from the tangled blankets, Changbin dived back beneath the cabinet to look again. He shoved the small basket of product to the side and when his razors weren’t in the very back, he jerked himself out again. A hand went to the porcelain sink to propel himself up.

Crash!

You stumbled over your feet worried that your boyfriend might have fallen. Picking up your pace, you knocked when you arrived at the door and called out to make sure Changbin was alright. Not hearing a response, you panicked even more.

“I’m coming in,” you called out.

When you stepped inside, you found a teary eyed Changbin staring at the floor. You stepped up beside him quickly wondering what was wrong. On the tile floor, lay the scattered remnants of the bathroom trash can. A shampoo bottle laid beside it.

Right there on top? One of Changbin’s disposable razors was completely dismantled. Twisted blue plastic with a missing razor blade. You made sure to hide it deep within the trash can beneath the snotty tissues and makeup remover wipes. You didn’t take into consideration that the trash can might fall over.

The pieces began to click together in your brain. You had been using Changbin’s razors for a while now. Prying apart the plastic and so desperate to feel something again. You found a friend in the cold metal blade. The stinging sensation somehow seemed to mend your internal wounds.

Humiliation filled you and the guilt of it all crept in. You swallowed the lump in your throat as your own tears filled your eyes. You remained cemented to the floor unable to speak and unable to explain. There was nothing to explain anyways, Changbin knew what you were doing instantly.

The two of you stayed silent. Changbin ran through your behavior the past few days in his head. You stopped wearing pajama shorts to bed, but fall had turned into winter. He didn’t question why you switched your clothes. When you didn’t want to be touched as much, he hadn’t questioned it.

Boundaries and communication were so important to him. He knew not to cross them. The two of you were honest with each other constantly. It helped your relationship flow smoothly, it helped prevent arguments, and it left the two of you satisfied; but this? How long had you been keeping this a secret?

“Why?” He finally got out.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was shaky as you spoke. You felt so small. So helpless. Rather, you let down one of the most important people in your life. Would he see you through the lens that you saw yourself?

He turned around to face you. There was no hint of anger. His face wasn’t twisted and there wasn’t a scowl. Hurt was in his eyes. He reached out and cupped your face again. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’ll replace your razors and I won’t do it again.”

“But why?” His thumbs brushed against your cheeks to wipe away tears. “Why are you hurting yourself?” You blurred in his vision.

You blinked rapidly trying to get the tears to stop. You didn’t want to admit you hated yourself. You didn’t admit you found comfort in the pain. You didn’t want to admit any of it. You were stuck at a crossroad.

“Please talk to me.” He waited patiently for you to speak. When you didn’t, he pulled you into his burly arms. Warmth cocooned your body and cradled your soul.

“I didn’t mean to start. I’ve struggled with it before, you already know that.” You sniffled and sucked in a deep breath. “It got bad again and I just wanted to self-soothe. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

He rubbed your back gently. Your head was tucked beneath his chin. His heartbeat walloped in his chest. “You didn’t disappoint me, you’re hurting inside. You have to learn how to be gentle with yourself, baby. You could never disappoint me.”

More tears filled your eyes. They began to trickle down and soak his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. You let yourself be held by him.

“You’re allowed to hurt and you’re allowed to be sad, but how about we try to do something else that doesn’t harm you? I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You don’t understand how precious your existence is to me. You mean everything to me.”

A strangled sob came from the back of your throat. You broke down completely in his arms. He treated you with such tenderness and love, it made you cry harder. He soothed you quietly while he began listing some of your best qualities.

You cried and cried and cried until you were completely defeated. Everything you had been holding back came up. Beneath your pajama pants, your thighs stung from the fabric brushing up against them. You tried to hide them. You forced yourself into your jeans.

The fabric rubbed and created irritation. The water in the shower hurt. They always hurt. Just as old wounds began to itch and heal, you created new ones to remind yourself just how worthless you were. The cycle had started again and it’d continue until you stopped.

Changbin spoke to you how a mother spoke to her newborn baby. Praising you for the smallest things. Dotting on you and gently rocking you side to side. They say a mother’s heartbeat comforts a baby in the wound. With you pressed up against and hearing Changbin’s heart through your sobs, maybe that’s why you felt comfortable enough to fall apart.

When you finally finished sobbing, you were left breathless and exhausted. Changbin’s heartbeat continued to thrum. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you and Changbin planted a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

You didn’t object as he picked you up and carried you back to your shared room. Concerned about your well-being still laced him. No matter how much he wanted to continue talking about it, you needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow, he’d help you come up with a better plan to cope, but for now, he’d be by your side until you woke up again.

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

TW: Skin picking, hair pulling, anxiety, and blood.

You didn’t realize Hyunjin moved from his spot until you felt his hand gently cup your wrist. You glanced down with confusion etched onto your face. He gave you a reassuring smile before he spoke. “You’re doing it again.”

You glanced down with a frown. Sure enough, you were doing it again without realizing it. Lost in your overwhelming thoughts, you began to pick at the scratch on your arm. Your sharpened nails plucked at the skin. The darkened red bits of healing wounds were reopened. A fresh trail of trickling blood steadily streaked down your arm.

“Ah, shit.”

You stood up and mumbled an apology. In the bathroom, you began washing your hands in the bathroom sink, so you could address the problem. Out in the kitchen, Hyunjin was doing the same thing. With hands still damp from hastily drying them with the kitchen towel, he walked into the bathroom and gently tugged your wrist again.

The uncomfortable feeling of humiliation crept inside as Hyunjin observed your bleeding arm. Lately, you found yourself doing things without even realizing it. Digging your nails along your skin and creating scratches. Gnawing at the sides of your nails and ripping off perfectly healthy skin.

A few days ago, you began to pluck at the end of your eyebrow. You didn’t realize it until Hyunjin came home and pointed it out. On the side of your head, beneath a top layer of hair, there was a bald patch growing back. It never really registered what you were doing until it was too late.

Wound tight with anxiety, you floated away from reality and let yourself meander a river of worry. Your fingers moved without realizing it. Your body was desperate to soothe itself even when you were consciously away from the driver’s seat of your brain.

Hyunjin didn’t mind pointing it out. He knew how you could be and if anything, he was happy he could get you to stop. Pulling you out of that cloudy blank daze and helping bring you back to reality. He was careful with every movement. He didn’t want to startle or injure you more.

“You really don’t have to do this,” you mumbled.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

You stayed silent and let him rinse the blood off your arm. You watched him clean up, disinfect, and bandage the scratch on your forearm. It had been healing for the past few days. The other day, you dug your nails into the delicate skin. When you scraped your nails down, your skin came with it. Pulled from your thoughts by the feeling of warm blood beneath your fingers, you realized you had injured yourself yet again.

You knew it was nothing to be ashamed of. Hyunjin was a constant reminder of that. There was no judgment from him whatsoever. However, every time he caught you doing it, you felt like a child upsetting a parent. He hadn’t made it known that he was annoyed with your behavior, but you were sure he felt that way deep down.

The thought nagged at you while he threw the last bits of band-aid paper into the trash can. He hummed softly beneath his breath and washed his hands like it wasn’t a big deal. Suds filled his hands and the scent of citrus hit your nose.

“Why are you never mad at me?” You finally snapped. You didn’t mean for it to come off so snarky, but you didn’t understand why he was so cool, calm, and collected about your behavior. In your head, it was inexcusable.

“Why would I be?” He asked cooly. His face remained neutral and he dried his hands on a hand towel.

“Aren’t you annoyed or angry or, I don’t know, upset maybe? Sometimes I’m aware I do it, but I continue doing it. I don’t care if it hurts. It just….I don’t know!” You threw up your hands exasperated. “Why are you so okay with it?”

Hyunjin eyed you for a moment. You still couldn’t read his thoughts. He kept his face neutral until he cocked his head to the side. “What if it was me?”

“Huh?”

“If I did what you did. If I picked and plucked and tore and scraped and scratched; would you be annoyed or upset?”

“No!” Your head shook frantically. “Of course, I wouldn’t be like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you. I love you and you deserve compassion. I’d never want you to feel like you were doing something wrong and I-” You paused for a moment. “Oh.”

The side of Hyunjin’s lips tugged into the start of a smile. “Yeah, exactly. Do I think you should do it? No, but I understand why you’re doing it.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” you finally admitted.

“I was doing some research the other day and they said it helps if you wear gloves. However, I know that’s not always a possibility because you hate gloves. There was another article I found about keeping your hands busy.”

“So like a stress ball?”

“That’s one option, but I was thinking of something else.” He laced his fingers through yours and began to pull you away from the bathroom. “You know how you always like my art? You’re always wishing you could create art as well as I do?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled you into your bedroom and retrieved a plastic bag from beneath the bed. He handed it to you and let you open it. You stared at it cautiously and then glanced up at him.

“Go ahead and open it. It’s not going to hurt you or anything. Come on,” he grinned, “you’ll love it.”

You stuck your hand inside and began to pull out objects. A sketchpad was followed by a bright pink eraser and a pack of fancy pencils Hyunjin always used to create sketches. He beamed when a smile appeared on your face.

“You got these for me?”

“You’ve been wanting to do art for a while now. I can help teach you and I created a YouTube video playlist of videos I first watched when I created art. When I’m not around, you’ll be able to watch them and learn.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off.

“I know it might not help entirely, but it’s a good distraction. If you start this and don’t like it, I’ve been talking to Felix. He sent over some of the recipes he makes a lot. Maybe you could give baking a shot?” He offered.

Tears began to fill your eyes from the warmth that fluttered through your heart.

“What?” His face fell. “Do you not like this? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He rushed towards you and began to wipe away your tears. “I don’t want to seem overbearing and like I’m trying to fix you. That’s not what I’m trying to do, I swear! I-I just want to help you.”

You laughed at his distress. He paused upon seeing your reaction. You sniffled and shook your head. Pulling away, you began to speak.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m not sad, I’m so happy. You didn’t have to do all this for me. I’m so grateful and I feel so overwhelmed.”

“So they’re happy tears?”

You nodded and laughed again. More tears streamed down your cheeks. A smile began to grow on Hyunjin’s face again.

“Thank you for caring about me.”

“I’ll always care about you.” He leaned over and wrapped his arms around you. “I’ll do anything to see you happy. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

_ _ _

Han:

TW: Gambling and gambling addiction.

The question sat unspoken on your tongue. You knew what you were doing was wrong and yet you couldn’t stop yourself. You shifted in your spot on the couch for a fourth time trying to gather up the courage to ask.

Your boyfriend’s eyes were glued to the latest anime the two of you had been watching. He was clueless about your antics. You sucked in a deep breath and called out his name. When he didn’t respond, you called his name a little louder.

He snapped his head towards you with his big eyes and round cheeks. Even without meaning to, your boyfriend was attractive. You pushed away the thought and focused back on the task at hand.

“Can I ask for a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

In the background, the characters in the anime continued fighting each other. Brightly colored hair flung around and over dramatic sound effects whirled. Fists flew and bodies bucked. Screams of despair from the hero and bouts of anger from the villain continued.

The anime reminded you of yourself. You were the hero and you were the villain. Always flipping back and forth between the two, a switch toggled, but it never flipped fully. You were reckless with life decisions. Messy without thinking things through. Acting in the heat of the moment without thinking about the effects.

“Can I borrow five-hundred dollars?”

“Huh?” Han’s eyes widened in shock. “Five…hundred? What? Why?”

Your eyes met the ground. You felt pathetic. Your form of self-harm wasn’t physically damaging your body. You didn’t turn to substances to cope with things. You threw yourself into gambling instead. Every paycheck, you went through money like water. You were a pro at self-sabotaging.

You managed to keep just enough to make ends meet and then you’d blow the rest of it. Chasing the high of winning, you didn’t know how to stop. The worst part? You were pretty decent at it. Whether it was making bets with your friends about small things or feeding freshly dispensed ATM cash into slot machines at the casino, you were good.

Lately, you had been on a winning streak. The cash was pooling in. Over and over again you won and each time, the dopamine rush was more intense than the last. You were seeing green, at least, until greed brought you to your knees.

You bet everything in the heat of the moment. You bet it all and within a few seconds, you lost everything. It was there and then it was gone. Even worse, you realized you hadn’t put the money aside for your half of the rent. You were royally fucked and with no more money to bet to try and make some of it back, you were screwed.

You didn’t leave the casino giddy with excitement. You didn’t sprint to the front desk to redeem your money from the ticket in your hand happily. You didn’t relish the fresh air outside with loaded pockets feeling unstoppable. You left with tears in your eyes and humiliation coursing through your veins.

“Five-hundred?” Han repeated again, completely baffled. He reached over, paused the show, and sat up. “Baby, why do you need five-hundred dollars? Did something happen?”

You could have lied. You could have said something went wrong with the payroll at work. You could have said the system broke and your paycheck would be delayed. You could have pretended your bank account was hacked. As you ran through the lies in your head, they made you feel even more grimy and worthless.

Heart taught with distress, you squeezed your eyes shut and balled your hands into fists. Your nails dug into your palms. This was your fault. You did this. You made your bed and now you’d have to lie in it.

“I really fucked up,” you finally admitted. You stayed silent for a few moments. You weren’t sure how Han would react to your admission of guilt. You let out a sigh before you opened your eyes and spoke again. “I think I have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Han stretched forward. He laid down on his stomach and tucked his palms beneath his head. He tilted his head up to stare at you from his position. “Anything I can help with?”

“I might have gambled all my money away.”

“You what?”

“I know it sounds bad.” You were sheepish to speak. “I forgot to set aside rent money. I know it’s no excuse, but it left my mind.”

Han stared at you without a word. You were too afraid to glance over at him. Your eyes never left the floor.

“So the five-hundred dollars is to cover my half of the rent. I promise I’ll pay you back!” You peeked over at him. Eyes filled with desperation, you hoped he’d understand. “I don’t like asking you for assistance, but our landlord won’t budge on the rent being due at the end of this week and I don’t get paid until next week.”

“Did you just start this or…” He trailed off.

“It’s been happening for a few months. When I hang out with my friends, we go to the casinos and stuff. It was really fun and before I knew it, I was hooked on it. I couldn’t stop it no matter how hard I tried.”

“Of course, I’ll cover your part of the rent.”

Relief filled your veins.

“But.”

“But?”

“But it sounds like this is a big issue. This was a pretty big incident that happened to you. What would happen if this occurs again and there’s nobody there to help you?”

You frowned and shifted once more uncomfortably beneath the weight of his gaze. “Honestly, I never really thought about it. I think I might be obsessed with it. I live for the feeling of being a winner.”

“Don’t you think you should stop before you become a loser?”

Your face fell at his words. He scooted closer to you and scooped you up to his chest. You could barely breathe as his arms constricted around you.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, but this is concerning. I care about you and I don’t want to see you lose everything. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

You weakly nodded your head. He clutched to you tightly in the silence. The anime was still paused in the background. A fist froze in mid-air as it was ready to slam into the villain who stood with wide eyes of terror. His fingers found the ends of your hair and he began to twirl his fingers around it.

“Han?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. I’ve been doing it for a while now. I thought I’d be able to give it up, but it’s like an itch that won’t go away.”

He paused for a moment before he hummed. His tongue clicked while he thought about the situation. His fingers lazily tapped along your spine. You laid with your head on his chest. He sat sideways on the couch while he held you.

“I’ve heard that there are some therapists that specialize in therapy for gambling addicts.”

The air was knocked from your lungs. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You stiffened in his arms at the words. Shame filled you once more. That’s exactly what you were, you were an addict. This whole time you were afraid to label it, but that’s what it was.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel pathetic.”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” Han clutched you tighter. “A lot of people struggle with addictions. It doesn’t mean you’re worth any less to me. If anything, I’m proud of you for coming to me with this problem. They say the first step is admitting you have a problem and you’re right there.”

“Your addiction doesn’t define you,” he continued. “We all struggle with a lot of different things. It can come in different varieties and all shapes and sizes. You don’t have to be ashamed of something that’s so normal.”

“I don’t think this is normal.”

“Not for everyone, no. However, I’m sure there’s thousands of people out there just like you. Some people are in denial and don’t want to admit it. Others are afraid and some feel like they have nobody to turn to. Everyone has their reasons and I’m sure you have yours.”

His words wrapped around you like a safety net. They eased some of your anxiety about the whole situation. You mumbled an apology for everything and he reassured you that it’d be okay. He stared at you with such love and admiration, even when you weren’t paying attention to it.

“So how about we finish our anime and we can figure everything out after this episode?”

“You want to see who wins the battle, don’t you?” A smirk began to appear on your face.

“Maybe just a little.”

“You might want to watch, at least, the next two episodes.”

“You already know what happens?”

“Nope, I’m just betting on the fight being cut early and something dramatic happening.”

He stared at you unamused and despite the situation that had bloomed due to your actions, all you could do was laugh at your own word-play.

_ _ _

Felix:

TW: Overworking, caffeine addiction, and anxiety.

A frown filled Felix’s face when he laid his eyes upon you. He arrived home late tonight due to a few extra late dance practices. He expected to find you asleep in your bed, but instead you were hunched over your desk in the pitch black.

The bright light of your laptop illuminated your face while your fingers moved over the keys. Your eyes were narrowed and you were stuck in a trance. Beside you, three empty energy drinks sat. A fourth was directly beside you and half drank.

This morning, there weren’t any on the desk. He made sure of that because he removed them and tossed them into the recycling bin after you left for work. He ventured further into the room, let his bag fall towards the ground, and began to speak.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

He was met by the sound of you typing. The white light from your laptop highlighted the deep bags from beneath your eyes. You felt like your brain was melting, but the high caffeine content kept you going. You weren’t behind on work, in fact, you were ahead of everything.

You worked a normal nine to five and then came home and worked some more. Sometimes your line of work required you to do extra work at home and sometimes you just wanted to work ahead. Felix often tried to get you to lay off overworking yourself, but you never listened.

You had been like this for the past two weeks. You barely ate and slept. You were always hunched over your laptop. Emailing coworkers and upper management. Passing and trading reports back and forth. Filing and submitting different claims. Making phone calls, so on, and so forth.

Felix’s shoulders slumped when you didn’t respond. Just looking at the purple bags looming beneath your eyes made him tired. He let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes.

“Baby, come on. You can finish this in the morning. You’ve been working all day and you need to get some sleep.”

You blinked upon hearing the voice and briefly glanced over at your boyfriend. His eyes were half closed with sleepiness. It was past one in the morning. You gazed down at the clock on your screen.

“Go ahead and get in bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just let me finish up this report real quick.” You went back to your screen and continued to type.

Felix let out a sigh, but went about his evening routine. He slipped into pajamas, completed his skincare routine, brushed his teeth, and slipped into the bed. It was cold without the warmth of your body. His head slumped against the pillow defeatedly and he waited for you.

And he waited and he waited and then he waited some more. He tossed to one side and then the other. He tried to lay on his back and then he tried to sleep on his stomach. Haunted by the quick pecking of your laptop keyboard, he couldn’t get himself to sleep.

He huffed slightly annoyed, shoved the blankets away from his legs, and he sat up. “Baby, are you coming to bed? You said you’d only take a few more minutes.” He glanced over at the clock beside him. “It’s been nearly a half hour since then.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there soon,” you responded absentmindedly. Your eyes were bloodshot and your spine ached. You tilted your neck to the side and small pops sounded. Ignoring them, you took another sip of your energy drink, and went back to typing.

Felix’s eyes narrowed and daggers hit your back. His arms crossed over his chest. You were unaware as you continued typing on your laptop. After nearly another minute of silence, he finally shoved himself up.

Unbeknownst to you, he left your bedroom and headed for the living room. He wasted no time shutting off the internet router box and slipped back into your bedroom without a sound. It didn’t take long until you frantically clicked your mouse and let out a groan.

“Something wrong?”

“The internet went out in the middle of my report!”

“That sucks.” His voice held no sympathy. “We’ll figure it out in the morning. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You grumbled, but eventually shut your laptop and climbed into the bed. Happily, he curled up into the bed beside you and buried his head into your chest. It didn’t take long before he fell asleep due to exhaustion, but you couldn’t.

The caffeine had you wired. You were wound up and didn’t want to sit still. You laid there for a while to make sure Felix was fully asleep. Once you were sure he was out, you slipped out of bed and ventured out into the living room. You reset the router and within minutes, you were back online.

Nearly an hour later, Felix was well aware that you weren’t there. He woke up and reached out to cuddle you, but you were gone. He sat up wondering where you were. Upon realizing you weren’t in the bedroom, he went out to look for you.

That’s when he found you in the living room with two more energy drinks beside you. You were sipping a third one. Felix was flabbergasted at your behavior. How much caffeine was cruising through your veins?

“Baby?”

You stopped typing and glanced up to face your boyfriend. You paused and meekly smiled at his sudden appearance. “Hi?”

His arms crossed over his chest and your heart sunk. He stared at you without a word. You slowly put down the energy drink on the coffee table.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“What?”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“What are you talking about?”

“How many energy drinks have you had today?”

“I-” You paused to think about his question. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Felix, it’s not that big of a deal. I always drink energy drinks. Calm down and go back to bed. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“No. Put your laptop down and let’s go. You’re going to bed. Do you know how many days this has happened? Multiple.”

“You’re being irrational!” Your voice started to rise. “Stop being so fucking dramatic! God, they’re just energy drinks, Felix! It’s not like they’re going to kill me!”

“Are you hearing yourself?”

You rubbed your sleepy eyes and let out an annoyed groan. “Can’t you just leave me alone? Why do you care so much? I’m doing my job!”

“Part of your job is to take care of yourself as a person! When was the last time you got eight hours of sleep? When was the last time you had a decent meal?” His voice began to crack. Tears started to fill his eyes. “When was the last time you were happy and not slung over your computer?”

You felt like you had been slapped in the face by his words. Your mouth went dry, almost like you inhaled a mouthful of sand. You wanted to say something back, but there was nothing you could use to justify yourself.

“Why don’t you care about yourself the way I care about you?” His bottom lip quivered. “You’re always telling me to take care of myself. You’re always making sure I’m not overworking myself, but what about you? I don’t want you to die.”

Tears trickled down his freckled cheeks. He hadn’t meant to cry, but he was frustrated. Why couldn’t you see yourself like he could? Why didn’t you care? Why weren’t you listening to him?

“Felix,” your voice came out softer.

He shook his head and blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears. “I’m going back to bed. You can just stay here sipping your energy drinks and overworking yourself. When you collapse with a heart attack, don’t come crying to me.” He stormed back towards your room upset with your behavior.

The slam of your bedroom door caused you to jump. You looked down at the energy drinks you were consuming and guilt began to fill you. He was right. He was right about all of it. You were absolutely miserable.

The caffeine made you shaky and it spiked your anxiety. You were so dependent on it, if you didn’t have any, you started to develop a throbbing headache. You became aware of your heart rapidly beating in your chest. How much longer could you keep up this behavior before it burst?

With a sigh, you shut your laptop and pushed it onto the coffee table. You walked back to the room you shared with Felix. Shame filled you once more. Quietly, you opened the bedroom door and stepped inside.

Felix was turned away from your side of the bed. He was facing the wall with his arms still crossed over his chest. Silent tears flooded down his cheeks still. You weren’t sure if he was awake or not, so you softly called his name.

“What?” His voice wasn’t angry anymore. He was completely defeated.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t realize my behavior was upsetting you so much. I didn’t think it was making you worry. I’m sorry for yelling at you. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

There was silence for a while until he spoke again. “I’ll always worry about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Part of our relationship is to look out for one another.”

You padded over and slipped beneath the covers. Once he felt the bed stop shifting, he spun around so he could face you. The dim light from a nearby lamp caused a soft yellow glow to overcast. There were tears still in his eyes. They were smeared along his cheeks.

Your heart hurt at the sight of him. He moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. He mumbled into your skin and the vibrations caused tingles to run through you.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I swear. I sent an email to my boss and told her I wouldn’t be there tomorrow. You have the day off, right?”

“Mmhm.”

“Let’s spend the day together, yeah?”

He pulled away from you. His eyes sparkled as they met yours. “Really?”

You nodded your head before you leaned over and kissed his cheek. A rosy blush dusted the tops of them. “You wanna help me get rid of my energy drink stash tomorrow?”

“You have a stash?”

“I always have a stash.”

“You’re not gonna get mad?”

“No. You’re right, I need to stop. I kinda feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. It’s beating so fast right now.”

“Or maybe that’s just because I’m here.” A cheesy grin filled his face. He leaned up and kissed your cheek this time.

“Yeah, maybe it’s just because you’re here.”

He snuggled back down into the crook of your neck. You let out a soft sigh at his warmth. It didn’t take long until you both fell asleep tangled around each other.

_ _ _

Seungmin:

TW: Starvation, disordered eating, binging, and poor self esteem/body image.

Seungmin chewed his instant noodles peacefully across from you. With a fork in one hand and his phone in the other, he was content while scrolling through social media. On the other side of the table, you sipped your glass of ice water and did the same.

The only difference was that you did not have instant noodles in front of you. You sat up straight at the kitchen table with your fingers digging into your plastic cup. Condensation pooled against your fingers and left a ring along the wood. You scrolled through your social media too.

The scent of beef broth filled your nostrils. Your empty stomach twisted and contorted. It rumbled for the third time. You shifted in your chair and continued scrolling through your phone. Your fingers paled as you dug them into your cup tighter.

You silently salivated in your seat. The things you’d do to have a single bite of your boyfriend’s noodles; the warmth of flavorful sodium filled broth lining your stomach. Your teeth bit down onto your bottom lip once again.

The feeling of hunger was sharp and dull. Your stomach searched for food, but it had nothing. The feeling of cold water pooling in the bottom of your stomach filled you with a sense of pride. You were starving, yeah, but you had self control. In your brain, this was a win.

When your stomach roared again, Seungmin glanced over the top of his phone. He eyed you suspiciously. Lately, you seemed to be pushing away food. He didn’t talk about it much because he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

After all, he had been on his own fair share of diets. He knew they could be difficult, but you never mentioned a diet. In fact, he hadn’t seen you eat anything recently. Realizing this, a frown filled his face.

You glanced up at the feeling of eyes on you. When your eyes met Seungmin’s, you raised an eyebrow. He copied your expression without a word.

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

Your eyes went back down to the instant noodles. He picked up another forkful of them. Noodles snaked through the fork prongs and dripped with broth. You pulled your eyes away and shook your head. Your eyes went back to your phone and you swallowed another mouthful of cold water.

He glanced at his noodles and then back to you. Down to his noodles and back to you. When your stomach cried out again, his eyes went back to you for a final time. This time he blurted it out without warning.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Bullshit. Your stomach has been roaring like a lion for the past five minutes. You’re starving, so why aren’t you eating?” You kept your eyes secured to your phone. “Talk to me, babe.”

You didn’t dare take your eyes off the phone. You didn’t put it down because you were too afraid you’d spill and that’d ruin everything. You gave a slight head shake and went back to scrolling.

Seungmin sighed, got up, and began rummaging through the cupboards. You watched with curious eyes while he pulled out another cup of instant ramen. You tried to ignore him, but when he added hot water, the smell of beef broth caused your stomach to rumble once more.

You cursed beneath your breath and set your phone down. As you pushed yourself back, the wooden legs of your chair scraped against the ground. Seungmin turned around, alerted by the noise, to find you leaving the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the bedroom.”

“No you’re not. Get back here and sit down. We’re going to have a conversation about why you’re not eating. Sit your ass in the chair.”

“But I-”

“No. Sit down and shut up.” He placed the cup of noodles in the spot where you were sitting. His eyes narrowed while he stared at you.

You wanted to turn around and ignore him. When Seungmin made up his mind, he made up his mind. There was no use in running away from the problem. He’d hunt you down and figure out the root of the problem anyway.

You sighed and sat back down. He pushed a fork over to you and plopped down in his own seat. You stared down at the cup of noodles and your mind began to wander.

How many calories were in it? How much sodium? What if this single cup of noodles caused you to lose control? What if this single meal caused you to spiral into a binge? On and on your internal thoughts went and Seungmin had no idea.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not hungry,” you repeated.

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited in silence for your real answer. You bit down on the inside of your cheek. You shifted beneath his eyes again. He knew exactly how to make you squirm.

“I don’t feel like I deserve to eat,” you meekly admitted. You didn’t meet his eyes. You kept staring at the steam rising from the cup of noodles.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, but then continued anyway. “I feel like I deserved to be punished for not being good enough.” Your fingers played with the ends of your hoodie sleeves.

“Not good enough? What do you mean you’re not good enough? What are you talking about?”

“I could be better. My body isn’t in the best shape right now. It’s a simple way to lose weight. Honestly, I kind of like the feeling of starving. It makes me feel strangely powerful.”

“But you have to eat.” He leaned forward and reached his hand out. He was gentle as he cupped his hand over yours. “How are you going to have the strength to get through your days without food?”

You shrugged your shoulders again. It felt pathetic when you said it out loud. Your stomach continued rumbling. The scent of beef broth was overwhelming now that it was closer.

“How long has this been going on?”

“It just started this week.”

Seungmin stared at you wondering how he could help you. He knew about eating disorders, but he didn’t know how to help you. The answer seemed so simple to him, but your brain wasn’t wired like his was.

Food was not fuel for you, it was a daily challenge; a struggle. A battle of binging and starvation. Something you loved and loathed at the exact same time. It was gluttony, but perfection; a twisted combination of the two. You never seemed to find middle ground.

“That notebook that you’ve been writing in recently in our bedroom. You’ve been counting calories, haven’t you?”

You didn’t have to respond. Seungmin already knew the answer. A frown filled his face. The noodles were beginning to lose their warmth.

“Do you trust me?” He suddenly asked.

“Of course, I trust you. What kind of question is that? I’m dating you, obviously I trust you.”

“Can I make you food from now on? Not every meal, but just one a day, so I know you’re eating something. It’d make me feel better.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t want to agree, but you also didn’t want this to spiral out of control and funnel into something you lost yourself completely to. The question weighed heavily on your mind. He was asking you to give up control to the one thing that you could control.

“Can we try it for one day?” His voice softened. “One day and if you don’t like it, we can figure out something else.”

You finally nodded your head slowly. Your eyes wandered down to the fork beside you. You let out a soft sigh before you picked it up, twisted it into the cup of noodles, and took a bite. Flavor exploded on your tongue. You relished the taste with closed eyes.

“How is it?”

“It’s really good.”

“I’m glad I didn’t decide to poison it then.”

“Seungmin!”

He let out a laugh and sat back. A small smile appeared on your face. He kept you busy with conversation, so your mind couldn’t go back to focusing on your food. Eventually, you managed to eat half of them before you pushed them away. Seungmin allowed it without complaint.

“Whoops, I think you got something here.” He leaned across the table and began to reach for your shirt.

You looked down to see what it was, but before you could see, he reached up and flicked the end of your nose.

You let out a yelp and pulled away. Shooting him a glare, he could only laugh in amusement. He always knew how to keep you on your toes.

_ _ _

I.N:

TW: Doom scrolling and self-isolation.

The world was on fire. Maybe not physically, but that’s what it felt like. You had fallen into the toxic cycle of doom scrolling again. Climate change, war, protests, violence, politics, upcoming elections, riots, and death. You flipped through your TikTok page and soaked it up like a sponge.

Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like.

The algorithm was a little too good at its job. The moment you began liking content about one issue, more videos appeared. Soon there was another and another and another until your TikTok page was a manifesto of doom and gloom.

The memes went away. The animal videos went away. The videos about your hobbies and interests went away. The videos from your favorite creators went away. Even videos about your boyfriend’s band disappeared.

The more you scrolled, the worse you felt. How could you live at a time like this? A time when the world was flooded with such chaos. Man made disasters, disease outbreaks, deadly weather events, and crime. Murders, shootings, stabbings, kidnappings, and so on. Another child dead, another place shot up, and another country suffering.

How could you not be sad? How could you not live with depression? How were you supposed to go on living with the realization that there was so much suffering? Why weren’t people nicer? Why are humans cruel to one another? When did humans lose their humanity?

Eventually, you turned off your phone and let it fall onto the side of the bed. Tears filled your eyes when you rethought about it. So many stories about higher powers out there. Ancient gods and goddesses, magnificent unearthly creators passed down from generation to generation, and yet suffering still existed. Why?

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it wasn’t working. You reached a hand from beneath your warm blanket and wiped away your tears. You felt guilty for feeling so upset about everything. You should have been thankful that you were able to live the life you lived, but you still felt conflicted about the extent of suffering. None of it was fair.

I.N let himself into the apartment he shared with you. He kicked off his shoes and let out a sigh of relief glad to be home. He knew you weren’t home tonight and you probably wouldn’t be home for a while. You told him you were going out with friends earlier.

Lately, you seemed a little down, so he was happy you were finally getting back out there. You loved your friends dearly and they loved you. Besides, you could use a bit of cheering up.

He hummed to himself and moved throughout the house. He walked directly into the bedroom ready to shower and dress in comfortable pajamas. All of his plans crashed when he heard sniffling as he opened the door. He flipped on the light and there you were curled into a ball in your bed. You squeezed your eyes shut at the bright lights.

“Sorry about that, baby.” He flipped the main switch back off and flipped on the closet light instead. The too bright white light disappeared and was replaced with a softer lighting. “I thought you were going out to hang out with your friends.”

“I was going to, but I called off.” Your voice wobbled slightly. You sniffled again and pawed at your eyes.

Upon seeing your teary eyes, he walked over and slipped into the bed beside you. He pulled the covers away from you and tucked himself right beside you. You wanted to cry at his actions, but you managed to keep your tears back.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at work or something? Did one of your friends say something?” He studied your face with concern.

You shook your head and sniffled again. “Do you ever just realize how bad everything is in the world? There’s so much death and destruction.” Tears filled your eyes once more. “How are we supposed to deal with it?”

He knew what you were talking about instantly. You did this sometimes. Sometimes he caught you doom scrolling and stopped you. He often distracted you from it with things like your Nintendo Switches or TV shows. You must have started doom scrolling when he was away.

“The ice is melting in Antarctica and the polar bears…” You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence, as your bottom lip quivered.

You wore your heart on your sleeve. Empathy was a bittersweet thing for you. You were born with too much of it and you didn’t know how to turn it off. Your heart went out to everyone and everything. Even in the cruelest people, you were able to find empathy in them.

I.N pulled you into his arms and wrapped them around your torso. You buried your head into his chest. He gently rubbed a hand along your back.

“You know, animals are very good at adapting to a variety of situations. A lot of them are more intelligent than we realize. I’m sure the polar bears are the same way.”

That was the thing about Jeongin. He never belittled you for being empathetic. He never called you too sensitive or a crybaby. He didn’t brush away your concerns about things. He listened to your rambles patiently and tried his best to help alter and adjust the way you viewed things.

You didn’t like your empathy, but he thought it was a gift. You thought about things that he didn’t. You looked at the world with such kindness and compassion. You could easily befriend a stranger if you wanted to. You provided him with a different outlook on life.

“It’s all so sad. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why are we letting people suffer?”

“I wish I knew why, but I don’t know. Unfortunately, life isn’t fair to everyone. It really sucks, huh?”

“I hate it,” you grumbled. “I hate being stuck here and not being able to do anything about it.” A sigh escaped your lips.

“What happened with your friends?”

“I called off. I felt worthless, so I told them I wasn’t feeling good. I didn’t want to tell them what was really bothering me.”

“Why don’t you go hang out with them? I’m sure they want to see you. You said they’ve been texting you about how much they miss you recently. I’m sure it’d be a good distraction for you.”

“You’re right, but I don’t know. They’re already hanging out and they think I’m sick. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You could tell them you’re feeling better.” His fingers found your hair and began playing with it. He enjoyed the feathery feeling between his fingers.

“Can you come with me?”

“Do you want that?”

“Honestly, yeah. We haven’t been anywhere recently. They’ve been asking about you too.”

“I’d be happy to tag along. Where are they? Dinner or something?”

You pushed yourself up off his lap. “They’re actually bowling right now.” Feeling a bit better, you stood up from the bed. The previous thoughts of earlier were in the back of your head now.

“Have you ever bowled before?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“If I say yes, you’ll know I’ve had an advantage. If I say no, then you’ll know I haven’t, so the answer is maybe.”

“I’m gonna beat you.”

“No, you’re not!”

“The loser gets to let the other person pick out their outfits for a week, deal?” I.N asked.

“You’re on!” You rushed out the bedroom door. You sprinted towards the hall to grab your shoes from the sneaker shelf. “Let’s go!”

I.N smiled to himself as he went after you. He might not have done much, but, at least, he could help distract you from everything on your mind. He put on his shoes and hurried to follow you out the door.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Taglist: @fairytaleskiess

Masterlist

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids angst #stray kids comfort #kpop fanfic #bang chan #lee know #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #skz fanfic #fanfic writing

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oddinary4bts · 8 months

Text

When the End Comes | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: moving, curses, alochol, explicit content: female and male masturbation, pain kink (Jungkook), mentions of blowjob and penetrative sex

☆word count: 8.7k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: I don't even know what to say about this chapter, just that I FEEL their pain so much :'( justice for my babies

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, July 6th

Days and weeks have passed. Apparently, even months have. Jungkook hasn’t really noticed – he’s been stuck in a daze, stuck replaying your breakup over and over again. Wishing he’d begged you to stay, though he could tell that nothing would have been fruitful.

You had made your decision already.

He hasn’t done anything since you left. Hasn’t left your apartment except for looking for a new one, when Yoongi forced him to go. Because alone, he can’t afford the one you had together. And it’s too filled with memories anyway.

All the pictures on the shelves by the window, turned towards the wall the night you left. The echo of your laugh, in every room he steps in. The ghost of you, just a silhouette he can’t ever reach when it’s dark and his mind is playing tricks on him.

The night you left, he thought it was a joke. A sick, twisted prank, and he believed you’d come back. When hours passed and dawn approached, he got up from the spot where he was sitting in, near the door, and turned the pictures towards the wall before heading to bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, and he’d slept with Bam directly on the floor.

A few nights later he’d made an actual bed with blankets on the floor, and he’s been sleeping there since then. But not tonight – tonight he’ll try sleeping in bed, in his new apartment.

A space that shouldn’t remind him of you too much.

He’s packed almost everything before today. He had nothing else to do, and it served to keep his mind busy during the long hours of the day. At night he usually has nothing to keep his mind from going to you, and he thinks he’s stuck in the moment when you left.

It’s a looped film in his mind, a horror movie that will forever haunt him.

The boys are helping. They brought most of the boxes he’s packed to his new place already, a small studio in the same building as Yoongi and Kiko. It’s on the other side of town, far from where he built a life with you, and he really hopes your ghost won’t follow.

Though he doubts he’ll ever escape it.

Everyone is currently doing a trip to the other apartment, except Jungkook and Yoongi. Mostly because Jungkook has been standing in the empty living room, save for the pictures on the shelves.

You left with the couch and the dinner table, telling him to keep the TV even though you were the one to buy it years ago. And that day you came to pick up your stuff…

Another haunting moment to add to the long list that’s been tormenting him since you broke up.

He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching as the familiar ache takes over his heart. He doesn’t want to cry today – at least not before he’s alone in his new place. Because he hates how his friends are concerned, hates that he can’t just stay home alone.

None of them understand the sorrow that’s been plaguing him – hell, all of them except Jimin are happily dating. A dirty, ugly part of him hates them for it, and he’s been trying to distance himself.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, startling him.

Jungkook’s hand falls to his side, and he forces his eyes open. Yoongi is next to him, an eyebrow cocked in question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to put these in a box?” Yoongi enquires, and Jungkook clenches his fist as Yoongi’s pointing to the pictures.

“I can take care of it.”

It takes him a few seconds before he does get in motion, and he heads to the shelves. There’s already a box waiting for the frames, one Taehyung put there earlier before Jungkook told him not to touch anything.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi asks carefully.

Jungkook steels himself as he grabs the first picture. He already knows which it is, from its placement on the shelf. It’s one of his exhibit’s pictures. The one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. It’s the sunset from the living room of the apartment he’d found for you.

Seeing it hurts, but he barely pays attention to it, carefully putting it in the box before grabbing the next one. There you are, cheeks red and smile bright in the snow of December, and he feels like dying as he remembers the name of that one.

‘Where I learned to love again’. It feels like it’s laughing at him right now, like life is having a good laugh at his expense. He wants to throw it away, to burn and watch your beautiful form crumbling into ashes.

Instead, he puts it away, before moving to the next one. He thinks he goes blind – he doesn’t see the next pictures. Doesn’t focus on any of them, and lets the ache take over his action, over his heart. When he’s done, he realizes that the apartment is once again filled with voices – none of them being the right one, and he wishes to be alone.

Wishes to be allowed to crumble, to let himself be carried by the wind.

The rest of the day is a blur. He barely remembers getting to his new place, riding shotgun next to Jimin while Taehyung and Namjoon talked about something on the backseat. Jimin was silent, respecting Jungkook’s need to not speak, and maybe it’s for that reason that Jungkook says yes when Jimin asks if he wants some company when the others finally start filing out at the end of the day.

They all hug him tight, tell him that they love him and hope he’ll like his new place. With everything placed, Jungkook knows that he’ll always hate it, because it lacks the only thing that he truly wants – you.

And he’ll never have that again.

“Want to order something?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook is sitting on a kitchen chair, watching the condensation on his glass of water when Jimin speaks. He raises his head – his friend is scrolling on his phone, and he shoots Jungkook a look as he remains silent.

“Sure,” Jungkook finally answers. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Jimin nods. “There’s this great dumpling place nearby, and they deliver.”

“Oh.”

If Jimin notices Jungkook’s lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t mention. Because Jimin is a good friend – he’s been one of Jungkook’s closest friends for years for a reason after all.

“Pork and green onion works for you?” Jimin asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ll get the marinated cucumbers too.” Jimin pouts at his phone as he focuses, and then his gaze darts once to Jungkook. “Anything else you want? They got bobas too.”

Just thinking about drinking boba makes Jungkook feel nauseated, so he shakes his head no. Jimin purses his lips, nods curtly and then says the food is on its way.

His statement is followed by silence, until the front door opens as Yoongi returns with Bam, as promised. Kiko was taking care of him all day, since she and Yoongi live in the same building. Yoongi promises that Bam was a good boy, and then he leaves again, nodding his head at Jimin.

As if to say ‘thank you for being here’. Jungkook hates the gesture, hates that he let Jimin stay, but he figures he can always just ask him to leave when they’re done with the food.

He had to eat anyway, right?

Needless to say, his appetite has been off, since the day you left. He’s been working out more though, something to keep his mind busy, but he’s been unable to eat like before. Jimin forces him to eat half the dumplings though, and Jungkook reckons that even after everything, dumplings still slap.

Not a lot of things in life still slap without you around.

One thing that does suck is, Jimin tries to make conversation through dinner. He asks Jungkook if he has any project coming up, if he ever plans on returning to Europe. The answer is easy, and Jungkook gives it without an ounce of hesitation.

“No.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, as if surprised by his answer. “Why?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but offers no answers. He thinks it’s obvious – he’s been hating the European continent ever since the night you left because he can’t bring himself to hate you instead. So he directed it to the place that took you from him, and so far it’s been keeping him going.

“You know…” Jimin carefully says. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about it. But how are you even doing, bro? Every time I see you it’s just…”

Worse. He’s convinced that’s what Jimin was going to say, and he doesn’t blame him. It’s worse every time because he has been getting worse. As if adding another mark on the calendar equals to adding another on his heart, and the wounds haven’t had time to heal.

He doesn’t think there’s enough time in a lifetime to heal from losing you.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook lies easily.

Bam offers him salvation, barking by the door. As he rarely does, Jungkook gets up, a frown moving on his features. Jimin lets him go, even as Jungkook mumbles he’ll take the dog outside. His friend remains silent, and Jungkook is able to slip into the evening without Jimin pressing him about the lie.

As Jungkook had assumed, Bam just needed to pee, and probably barked because of the unfamiliar environment. Jungkook debates taking him on a walk, hoping Jimin would be gone by the time he comes back, but it feels too cowardly, even for him.

So he takes Bam in right away – the walk would have been hell anyway.

Jimin hasn’t moved while he was gone, and Jungkook tries to avoid the conversation by cleaning the table, putting away the empty dumpling container in the recycling bin after he’s rinsed it thoroughly. He feels Jimin’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but he does his best to ignore it.

“You shouldn’t drop your job in Europe,” Jimin suddenly says.

Jungkook whips around from his spot by the counter under which the recycling bin is. “What?”

“Isn’t it…” Jimin winces, shaking his head slightly. “Listen, this will be tough love, but isn’t it losing everything if you just… drop it too?”

Jungkook sees red. “Get the fuck out.”

“Bro.”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jimin says carefully, still not moving from where he’s sitting.

Jungkook has half a thought that he could carry his friend out if he wanted to, but surprisingly enough his heart breaks in his chest, tears blinding his vision.

“I just can’t go, okay?” he chokes out, and his nails dig in the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists hard. “I just can’t.”

Jimin watches him carefully, before sighing deeply. “Okay. It’s okay. There’s plenty of stuff you can do here too.”

Jungkook gulps, blinking the tears away until Jimin is clear in front of him again. “Can I…”

He stops, because he knows he shouldn’t ask. Knows he shouldn’t care, yet he can’t help himself. Jimin doesn’t press, waits for him to be able to speak. It takes longer than Jungkook thought possible, and he has to shut his eyes and lean against the counter before he finds words again.

“Can I ask how she has been doing?” he voices, words falling softly, almost soundlessly, in the space between them.

“Jungkook…”

“Just,” Jungkook lets out, eyes shooting open. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Jimin’s silence is telling enough – you must be going through it too. It fills Jungkook with bitterness, with something vile and disgusting that tastes like bile on his tongue. Because you don’t get to be suffering, you don’t get to have made this decision and suffer from it.

Why the fuck did you make that decision then?

“You know,” Jimin starts carefully. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why did she do this?”

And then the tears are moving freely, and Jimin quickly gets up to hug him. Jungkook rests his forehead against his friend’s shoulder as he breaks in the embrace, like he’s been doing for weeks now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimin promises when the tears recede and Jungkook stops trembling, as if his body, too, is too tired to keep on breaking.

Strangely, he gets the feeling there’s nothing left to break anyway.

“How?”

Jimin remains silent for a while, as if searching for the exact right words to say. Jungkook doubts they exist – how can someone repair a broken heart such as his?

“Life finds a way,” Jimin eventually chooses to say. He pulls away from the hug, though he still holds onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Life always finds a way.”

Saturday, July 15th

You’re tired. Have been tired. Think you’ll forever be tired. A relentless exhaustion has settled over you like a mantle of snow settles on the land during the months of winter. With it comes an unshakable cold, and even though it’s summer you’ve been cradling your hoodie to your frame, draping yourself with it as if it’ll chase the cold away.

The cold is never going to leave. You think your heart turned to ice in your chest, and it pumps freezing blood into your veins. You’ve been trying to warm up, but heat is a mirage to you, an illusion you can’t reach.

Heather and Bridget are hosting a dinner at their apartment today. You’d wanted to avoid it, but considering they offered you a room for a few weeks before you found a new apartment, you couldn’t say no. Yet you dread the moment you’ll be faced with the other girls, some of them your friends because they are dating… his friends.

You’ve been trying not to think about him too much. It’s hard – he’s lurking at the back of your mind, a reminder of your failures. Of the places where you went wrong, the mistakes you committed. Not that the breakup was a mistake – you think you made the right decision, or at least you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have.

But you didn’t lie to him – you love him. Still do, though now it’s more like grief. Though, what is grief if not the next step in the eternal timeline of love?

You worry at your lips, bury your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. You fumble with your keys as you wait in front of the door, as you try to knock but find you’re unable to. Because it means talking to them, it means pretending that you have been able to eat or sleep for weeks.

You reckon Heather and Bridget know, to a certain extent. Saw you wither like a flower when autumn comes, though you think now you’re settled in deep winter.

You think it’ll pass. You doubt a pain like this can last – no soul can withstand it forever. But that would be admitting that he was your soulmate, and you aren’t stupid.

Soulmates don’t exist. Because if he was, why then was the distance enough to break you up?

You sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of your feet. You take a steadying breath – it does nothing to help.

You’re a coward. You’ve become a coward, and you think it might be because you put all of your courage in that night weeks ago. It broke you, broke the steel you used to be able to drape yourself with.

Now you’re stuck in the never-ending winter, withered and lifeless.

“Y/n!” Jo says, and you startle.

You turn your head to the side to see Jo as she’s walking around the corner, and she smiles at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply as your throat goes dry.

If he has a best friend, or at least a female one, you think it’d be her. They’ve been friends since before you reconnected with him, since before you even knew her. Seeing her feels like it’s wrong, but then again everything has been feeling wrong lately.

“Did you already ring?” Jo asks as she stops next to you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head no. “Huh,” you let out. “I was about to.”

Jo nods, and you think she immediately senses your unease. She’s a good person though, and an even better friend. She doesn’t say anything, and she rings the door for you.

You don’t know what to tell her. All that you can think of is, if someone has news about him, it would be her. She’s the only one you believe there’s a chance he’s been honest to.

Before you can say anything, the door opens and Bridget ushers you inside. You realize that you’re the last ones to get there – you usually never are. Usually always make sure to be the first, only so that you can help the hosts.

It seems losing him changed that.

You greet everyone half-heartedly, quickly moving towards Jiho. Jiho hugs you, tells you she’s happy you came. You can’t return the sentiment, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile as Heather announces that dinner is ready.

Their chatter is lively. You feel like you’re watching the scene through a frosted window. Like you’re stuck in a blizzard, watching people reveling in the warmth of the other side, wishing somehow that they’d share it with you. And it’s not that they don’t try; multiple times throughout dinner the other girls try to talk to you.

You reply, you always do, but there is just so little to say, so little words your brain can conjure up. It’s like your thoughts are slower – you’ve been that way at work too. You’re lucky, you haven’t been working on anything big in the last few weeks. But next week you will be, and you don’t even know if you’ll be able to do it.

At least Harrison is on the case with you. As one of the most talented junior partners of the firm, you think he’ll be able to manage the case even with you at his side.

You eat what you can, though you’ve run out of appetite before you even broke up. You force yourself, mostly because you don’t like how Kiko’s looking at you. How you notice her leaning to speak in Jo’s ear more than once during the meal.

You’re aware that they’re speaking of you – do they hate you as much as you hate yourself?

You doubt they can.

When dinner is over, you offer to clean the dishes. Jo ends up on washing duty with you, and you work in silence, water sloshing around as you rub the plates clean while she dries.

You’re cleaning a wine glass when she says, “How have you been?”

The question is a simple one. The truth isn’t so, and you wonder if you should lie. You think it’d be a mistake. Jo’s perceptive, she’d see right through the lie.

“I’ve been better,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders as if it doesn’t matter.

That much is a lie, because everything about him mattered.

“I can understand.”

Heavy silence follows, and you pass the glass to her. You hope she won’t speak more, hope she’ll offer you kindness and let you dwell on your mistakes, but you know it’s unlike her.

Indeed, she speaks up after a minute. “You know…” She pauses, and you glance once at her to find her features troubled. “I was wondering… what brought you to this decision?”

You freeze, hands in the water. It’s hot enough that your skin is turning scarlet, yet you barely even feel it. “What?”

“If you don’t want to speak about it it’s fine,” she gently says. “But I’m just concerned about you.”

“Did he ask you to ask me this?” you enquire, accusingly. You frown at the tone of your voice, and apologize as you resume washing the glass you’re holding.

“No,” she answers. “He hasn’t really been talking to anyone.”

You shudder, with horror and compulsion at the person that you were weeks ago, the one that caused him to isolate himself.

“Oh.”

Jo waits a moment, but when it’s clear that you aren’t going to speak again, she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t prod.”

You wet your lips, swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s okay.”

Perhaps that’s also a lie. Perhaps you believe nothing is okay, nothing will be okay again. But you don’t voice it – it’s all your fault anyway.

“It’s okay if it isn’t okay, you know,” Jo gently says as you hand her a glass.

Your vision blurs, but no tears fall. No tears are left – you cry them to sleep every night already.

“Long distance is a bitch,” is what you eventually say. “You think you can make it through everything, and then long distance happens.”

You want to clench your hand around the third glass, want to feel the shards of it cutting through your palm like the shards of him have been stabbing through your heart. You force your grip to remain loose, lest you stain the sink with blood.

“Like for real, without it we would have been fine.”

You’ve told Jiho the same thing. You think you’ve told him the same thing, but you barely even remember the breakup. Just remember holding onto him at the end, and then winter seeping in through the crevices in your soul.

“I’m sorry.” Jo looks at you kindly when you glance her way. She offers you a sad smile that you want to hate, yet it just makes you want to break. “I’m really sorry it came between the two of you.”

You take a deep breath to tame the aching in your chest, nodding once. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not.”

She’s right, so you remain silent. Choose to seek solace in a wordless moment, one you spend finishing the dishes. And when you’re done, and she’s wiping the last one, you find yourself asking, “How has he been doing?”

She stops moving, meets your gaze before letting her gaze drop to her hands. “As I said, he doesn’t really speak to anyone.”

“Which means he hasn’t been great.”

You know him enough to know that. She does too – she nods, before shrugging her shoulders. “Jimin and Tae have been making sure he’s okay though. Surviving.”

Because sometimes all there is to do is survive.

You’re relieved that his friends are there for him. It lessens the pain somehow, to know he’s not alone. You aren’t either – Jimin is your friend too and, even though she’s a mom of two, Jiho has been there for you ever since the breakup.

The first time Lisa asked you where Jungkook was though… felt like heartbreak uttered in an innocent sentence. Like the universe had gone wrong, like left and right were interchanged. You were lost then, and you still are today.

All at your expense.

“Good,” you answer.

She looks conflicted, pained – you understand why when she asks, “What about you?”

You clench your jaw out of reflex, as if it’s an accusation. As if admitting that you’re going through frozen hell is wrong of you, somehow. You think it is. After all, this is supposed to be better than the distance.

“I’ve got Jimin too, and Jiho,” you reply, voice strained. “Bridget and Heather too. They’ve been helping.”

Jo nods. “Good. Don’t isolate yourself.” There’s a pause, and her features turn pensive. “And you know, you got me too. You have all of us.”

Tears blur your vision, but like your soul they turn to ice before rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

Smile apologetic, she nods again, as if her job here is done. And it must be – Kiko and Bridget walk into the kitchen, and they clearly don’t sense the atmosphere that’s clinging to you. They strike conversation with Jo, happily, and her stance switches to one that’s more relaxed.

You decide to leave them alone, because these three have always been a little closer to each other than you to them, and you return to the other room, where Chaeyeon, Valeria, Jiho and Heather are lounging on the couches. You debate leaving, debate claiming that you have to work early in the morning, but somehow you choose not to.

Is it a sign that you’re moving on? You don’t know.

When you do leave, later that night, at the same time as Jo and Chaeyeon do, you find yourself walking next to Jo as you head to your respective cars. Lance is picking Chaeyeon up, and she waves you two goodbye as you walk away.

You stuff your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie, as if the air outside is remotely cold. It is not – there’s been a heatwave around for a few days. Luckily enough for you, a freezing heart seems to be a good remedy for the heat, and you still seek the comfort of your hoodie.

“I was wondering,” Jo says as you near where your car is parked. “Are you still planning on coming to the wedding?”

The forsaken wedding. The thing that set everything in motion – the spark that caught fire on years of your relationship.

You purse your lips, shrug your shoulders. “I think so,” you voice. “Yeah. You two are my friends, even if…”

If you’re closer to him. You don’t say as much, but it’s needless. Jo nods, understanding as ever, and she tells you that you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.

You think she’s a fool for believing that you wouldn’t want to go. Because… what’s wrong with wanting to make sure he’s okay with your own two eyes? What’s wrong with needing to see him in another context than this never-ending winter?

That night, you lie awake for hours. Picturing him behind your closed eyelids, only to find emptiness where he should be. The blankets are cold, the fan overhead not needed, yet you can’t bring yourself to turn it off.

Can’t chase the feeling of his absence from your heart.

You seek solace in memories of him, in the thought of his lips on yours. Of the featherlight kisses you used to exchange in the dead of night, when sleep was evading you or him. You must be half asleep – because suddenly you can almost see him here. Can almost hear his voice as he’d call you baby, mouthing the word against your neck before he’d suck on it.

Your heartrate picks up with the memory – they’re flooding in. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the inebriating sweetness of his kisses. You remember the weight of him on you, the press of his knee between your legs.

And then you seek solace with a hand between your thighs, trying to remember how he touched you. How his long fingers always dragged you to a land of pleasure, how he’d managed to keep you there until you were insane with his taste.

You breathe out his name, a soft moan, though it’s almost a plea. A plea for him to appear, for him to never have been gone.

For you to never have pushed him away.

When you come down from the high that finds you in your memories, you lie on your side, holding one of your plushies to your chest. They don’t replace him; they never have.

You end up crying yourself to sleep over the memories, over the July night sky and the dance crew and every night you took for granted, believing that he’d be yours forever.

You cry for your decision, no matter how right it was. Because you know it’ll always feel wrong.

Friday, July 28th

There’s something about work that’s been setting you on edge. That’s been making you want to pull your hair out of your head – if only that was possible. It’s strange; you’ve been thinking about the breakup less now that you’re neck deep in work.

Now that you spend hours upon hours at work, after the usual closing time.

Luckily enough, you’re almost never alone. Harrison accompanies all of those late evenings as you work through the case, as he tells you what to do and you tell him you don’t need his help. He laughs at that – Harrison has an easy laugh. It makes its way to his lips whenever you speak, and it’s been like a ray of light in the otherwise dark land of your heart.

He’s a good coworker. Someone that’s noticed just how bad you are, but that’s decided to not treat you differently. To let you nurse your heart in peace, while he offers you the normalcy of what work should be.

Today, at lunch break, he suggested going out for dinner and drinks, along with the rest of the team that’s been working on the case. Mostly because you’re finally closing in on something that is clearly going to be good, and he believes it’s important to celebrate. You don’t have it in you to say no, and that’s how you find yourself squeezed between him and Anna, the paralegal that you’ve worked with the most, in the booth of a nice pub near the firm.

You’ve been sharing a nacho plate with Harrison and Ian, another one of the junior partners of the firm, and you’re sipping on a glass of the pitcher of sangria that Anna ordered for you and her. The buzzing of chatter and laughter makes the pub into a lively place, and you reckon you like the atmosphere.

You like the plants that cascade from their pots on shelves in the walls, like the hanging lights that shine brightly onto the tables, like the brick wall that gives the pub a nice industrial vibe. It just feels right, different than your usual.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the crew is different. That you aren’t with people that inevitably remind you of Jungkook, even though they shouldn’t.

Harrison’s English accent catches your attention as he says something to Ian – something about leaving work related conversation to the firm. As you turn your head towards the man at your side, he offers you a glance.

Harrison has clear blue eyes. Pale, like they hold the Caribbean sea in them. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, and you offer him a smile.

He’s quick to smile back, and then he continues his conversation with Ian, who’s decided to speak about sports instead. You decide to join in, even though you know practically nothing about sports, and the two men tease you for it.

There’s no bite to it, yet it feels familiar. Reminds you of someone that used to tease you all the time, and with the sangria coursing through your veins, you decide to jump on the occasion. To let the past be the past, and live in this moment, for once.

Perhaps it holds some sort of salvation for you.

“It’s not my fault if football is boring!” you insist. “It’s just dudes throwing a ball. Who cares about that?”

Harrison nudges you with his elbow. “Hey come on,” he says. “They don’t only throw a ball, sometimes they kick it too.”

He’s got a teasing smile on his lips, and to your surprise you find yourself rolling your eyes. “And the point system? Stupid.”

“It isn’t!” Harrison says, faking offense. “You wound me.”

You cock an eyebrow as Ian laughs, before turning to speak to Sam next to him as the guy asks him a question.

“Aren’t you British anyway?” you ask him. “Why do you watch football?”

“Because I like dudes that throw balls,” he jokes, before realizing that his sentence sounded wrong as you burst out laughing. “Well, not like that.”

“No, of course not,” you tease back.

“It’s just a fun sport,” he insists. “Used to watch it with my step-dad when I was younger.”

Now, the revelation eases the teasing mood that you’ve been diving into, and you offer him a small smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Because you can get that. You can understand the need to love something because someone you loved introduced you to it – dance was that for you, once upon a time. When your mother had introduced you to it, when you were too young to realize that to her, you dancing was just going to be an accomplishment.

Until it became a curse, as you chose to not pursue ballet the way she wanted you to. But that’s old history – even though you still don’t talk to your mother all that much, the hatred you’ve held for her for years after she’s kicked you out is lesser now. Practically non-existent, and you have your therapist to thank for that.

Years of therapy really did help, eventually.

You realize, tonight, how you haven’t really been living since you broke up. You’ve been a mere ghost, a mere winter wind, but tonight you think the air warms up. It warms up into a tentative spring breeze, and you cling to it.

You say yes when Harrison suggests heading to a club after, a VIP one where he’s a member along with Ian. Say yes to the shots offered to you, and you ignore the texts in the group chat with the girls saying that they want to meet up for lunch tomorrow. You focus on the now, focus on the fact that he’s not all you’re thinking of.

No, his big, doe eyes barely exist in your mind right now, replaced by ocean blue and an English accent. At least that’s what you tell yourself as Harrison says he’s a shit dancer, and you admit you were on a dance crew for years.

He cocks an eyebrow, says you’re full of shit, and that’s how you find yourself pulling him to the dance floor, not caring that his hair is paler than your usual, that his smile rings different.

Harrison is not a good dancer. He’s awkward, clumsy, and he steps on your feet more than once as you dance face to face, swaying to the beat of the club music. The flashing lights feel like a haven, like you don’t have to hide in the darkness left by Jungkook’s disappearance from your life.

You let Harrison put his hands on your waist, let him pull you closer, until he’s resting his forehead on yours. Your eyes shut from the proximity, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Somehow, that’s what makes you remember – not the dancing, but the intimacy of the position. It makes you crave another, makes you need to forget, and you’re the one that closes the gap.

You’re the one who kisses him first, and he kisses you back all wrong. There’s something missing – the piercing, perhaps – but you don’t let it deter you. Focus on the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, and you sigh as you let him in.

But Jungkook is there, in your mind. When Harrison’s hands tighten on your waist, it’s in Jungkook’s hair that you want to thread your fingers through. When he groans softly in the kiss, as you bite his lower lip, it’s Jungkook’s lips that you want to be sucking on.

And you think it’ll always be Jungkook. He’ll haunt you forever – a reminder of your weakness, when it came to the distance. A reminder that, after everything, you’re the one that ruined it.

You’re the one that put an end to what was supposed to be forever.

It aches, coldly. You think your heart barely knows how to beat anymore. It’s erratic, painful, and when Harrison pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes finding yours, you think his irises are made of ice.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Hey,” is all you can think to reply.

If he sees the torment in your eyes, he ignores it. Guides you back to the table, where he leaves you with Ian and the rest claiming that he’ll get a water for you. And he does – he comes back with two bottles of water, and he hands you one as he sits next to you.

You think that’s what undoes you. That’s what breaks you, spills the content of your aching soul right there on the club’s floor. You don’t know who’ll pick up the mess – the one it belongs to is far away from these flashing lights. Far, yet closer than he was when the ending came. Somewhere in the city, you believe, because you don’t think he’s gone back to Europe yet.

Would he answer, if you were to call him? Would he pick up right where you left off, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if you haven’t destroyed his beating organ?

You hate it. Hate how, weeks later, the torture hasn’t diminished. Hate how you believed it’d be just a few rough days, when it’s been weeks and months and winter hasn’t changed.

So you do what you do best. You escape. Tell the table that you have to go, and make it outside before Harrison catches up to you. He asks if he can walk you home, which makes sense because you live in the same complex anyway. Not the same building, but Harrison lives in the one across the small square-like courtyard between the three condo towers where you’ve found a place to rent after Jungkook.

Up above, stars twinkle in the sky. They seem unaware that, after that cataclysm of a July night, the story came to an end. Like the universe never meant it, when it put you and him together. Or maybe it’s you – maybe you created a new cataclysm. Wrote your own fate, and all that crap.

You’re getting dizzy. Both with alcohol and spinning thoughts, but luckily enough the walk is short. Harrison grants you silence, sensing that you need it, probably. Because he’s gentlemanly. Not that Jungkook wasn’t – it’s just different.

And you shouldn’t be comparing him to Jungkook, but it’s far too easy. Especially as your treacherous little mouth asks him if he wants to share a drink in your apartment, as you tell him that you feel better now that you’ve breathed some air.

He says yes, though he seems unsure. He seems unsure all the way up to your floor, and even more so as you pull him in a kiss when the door closes behind you and him. Especially as you breathe against his lips, “Do you think you can make me forget?”

After everything is done, and you lie awake next to his naked form, both of you staring up at the ceiling in silence, you know the answer to that question.

And it’s quite simple – no. Because no one will ever be able to make you forget the one you were supposed to be with until you turned to stardust. Until all that would have been left of the two of you was etchings on a stone, and memories in the space between this life and the next.

Harrison is kind – he tells you that he senses you shouldn’t have done it, gently. Tells you that the only person that can make you forget is yourself, and time. And when he leaves, he tells you not to worry about anything. That he can be a friend, if you need it, but that he doubts you want anything more.

He’s right, and you cry yourself to sleep holding onto Totoro and Appa, hoping weeks ago you would have listened to Jungkook when he’d said not to break up. Hoping to turn back time, cursing the linearity of it. Remembering the punctuate events of you and him, wondering how the distance was enough to undo your timeline.

The sun winks at you when it rises, mocking you as night ends, with no answer for you. The what-ifs shine as brightly as the rays of the morning, all of them piercing through your darkened heart.

You shiver and hide your face in Totoro, hoping one day you’ll be able to evade winter.

Friday, August 18th

Jungkook’s first thought when he steps into the restaurant is that it’s too loud. Too bright, with happy couples and smiling families sharing a meal as if life’s never ended, three months and ten days ago. He feels like an imposter – he hasn’t smiled since you left, and hasn’t laughed since before that.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, when Taehyung suggested it. Maybe because Taehyung and Jimin can be firmly persuasive, when they decide they’ll do something. Though, this time around, they’re not doing anything.

Anything other than having set this blind date with one of Taehyung’s coworkers.

Jungkook decides to find solace in his thoughts. Away from the bustling crowd of the restaurant, into the cool darkness where he’s been evading since he moved to his new apartment. Somewhere where the pain is lesser, where he doesn’t cry all the time.

That’s where she finds him. A shy smile, rosy cheeks as she voices, “Jungkook?”

He meets her gaze, finds her long lashes as she looks up at him innocently. He’s struck – she’s way out of his league. But so were you, and he’s got a whole story to tell about you now. He looks around as if to make sure the girl was speaking to him, as if she didn’t say his name, before he answers, “I assume you’re Emma.”

Another shy smile, and Emma nods her head. “The one and only.”

Jungkook wets his lips, and when the server comes to bring them to a table, he lets his gaze drop to the ground as he follows behind Emma.

He sits in front of her, feeling odd as she blushes and looks through the menu. Her shyness makes him feel awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say.

With you, he always knew what to say.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and then lets his eyelids flutter open so that he can look through the menu too. He thinks, he just has to make it through the evening. Doesn’t have to see the girl again, even though her shy smiles are cute.

She is cute, but she’s not you. No one will ever compare to you.

He takes a deep breath once more, tries to push you out of his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, it’s not as hard. Maybe because his awkwardness is winning over, making him all too aware of every glance the girl throws his way.

They order, barely exchanging a word, until the girl throws him a lifeline. She asks about his photography, admits Taehyung told her about it, and Jungkook settles in his comfort space as he tells her about it, as he answers her question.

It’s impersonal, almost professional, but at least it keeps the pain at bay for a while. He even thinks he’s enjoying himself – by the time they’re eating and he’s drank half of his beer, he does feel lighter. Like he can finally breathe, like the hand clutching his heart in his chest has loosened.

Or maybe he’s just been getting too good at burrowing his feelings deep inside of him. Still, he barely smiles, barely laughs. And he knows none of his smiles quite reach his eyes, and he knows the girl must have noticed. She doesn’t say anything though, focuses on telling him what she does for work, and then goes on to tell him about what it was like for her growing up.

He zones out, nods when he figures he has to, tries to smile when there’s a lull in the conversation. He’s clearly not good at that – he’s never really gone on dates before. Except with Laura, before you, but even that barely counted as a date. Perhaps because he already knew Laura, and he’s struck thinking that the girl in front of him is a stranger. A stranger, yes, but she’s kind. So when she suggests sharing a bottle of wine, claiming that it’s her favourite and that she’s wanted to drink it in a long time, Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to say no.

Even though they’re already done with eating. She does order dessert, and he watches her eat as he nurses his glass of wine, taking sips from it once in a while.

He hasn’t drunk in a long time, and the effects start to be felt faster than usual. Or maybe the beer he drank before the wine was strong. Either way, his head starts swimming with alcohol before they’re out of the restaurant, and he relishes in the feeling.

Revels in Emma’s suggestion to take a walk to clear their head, along the small river near the restaurant. The evening air is fresh, though clouds hide the stars from view. It smells of rain – there are leftover puddles from earlier today – but it doesn’t seem like the sky will cry again tonight.

A soft breeze plays in Jungkook’s hair. He hasn’t cut it in a while. It used to be a lot longer, but he’s not used to it anymore, so it feels weird whenever strands of his hair pass in front of his eyes. He tries to push them back but to no avail: the strands stubbornly always fall in front of his eyes again, and he ends up giving up after a moment.

Turns out Emma is a gamer. She suggests playing some games together the next time they hang out, and Jungkook doesn’t have it in himself to tell her that they, as a matter of fact, won’t see each other ever again. Not because she isn’t sweet – she’s just not what he wants. And he doesn’t even want the distraction.

He did that once, and it didn’t serve him good. Even if he managed to have you in the end.

“What’s your favourite game?” Emma asks as she stops next to some railing overlooking the water. She leans against it, forearms resting on it as she looks at the water, eyes following the ripples in the river.

“I don’t game as much anymore,” he admits. He shrugs, tries to ignore the way his lungs burn.

Because he used to game with you next to him, and he doesn’t need reminders of you.

“Mine is Valorant,” she says, and she smiles at him as if she expected that to make him happy.

“Oh,” he lets out. He offers her a tight-lipped smile, and feels bad when her face falls a little. So he quickly adds, “I took you more for a Sims girl.”

She fakes offense. “What? Why?”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and he’s struck silent as he watches it. She seems to take that as a cue for something else, because she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He thinks he’s frozen on his spot when she tilts her head back, tiptoes, and presses a featherlike kiss on his lips. Eyes wide opened, he watches her, until he figures he should be kissing her back.

So he does, hesitantly, as lead forms in his stomach, making him think that he’s going to be sick. Because she kisses him all wrong. Tastes all wrong too, and suddenly you’re burning in his mind, bright magma that moves in his veins until pain suffocates his lungs.

He takes a step back, and Emma’s eyes shoot open, as if startled. They stare at each other for a time, and then she gulps.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t care for her apology. Doesn’t care about anything other than the fact that he feels disgusted with himself. And for what? It’s not like he owes you anything anymore. As a matter of fact, he should be enjoying this. Should be enjoying that even though he was his most awkward self, he still was able to get the girl to kiss him.

Instead, he burns and he chokes on his saliva as he tries to swallow. He wonders why his vision is blurry, and he furiously blinks his eyes trying to keep Emma in focus.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “Gosh, I read this all wrong. I…” she pauses, shaking her head slightly, and it seems she’s been wearing a mask all evening, because it crumples into nothingness. “I just got out of a long relationship, Tae said you too and I just… Fuck I just assumed we could comfort each other?” When he remains silent, she continues, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She’s rambling, and Jungkook just hears his blood pumping in his ears. When he still doesn’t speak, she apologizes once more, and then tells him that she should go.

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t even look as she walks away, head hung low in what he assumes is shame. All he feels is the deep burning sensation, as it settles under his skin. Like a sunburn – he wants to scratch at it, wants to rip it from his skin, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re gone, and this ache is all that’s left of you. It’s all that’s left, so he clings to it. Tries to keep it close to his heart, where you belong. Picks at the scab, at the wound, until he’s bleeding all over again, breaking out in the city, where anyone can see that he’s lost you.

He doesn’t know how he makes it home. All that he knows is that he’s in the shower, later, head pressed against the tiles as cold water runs on his back. It mingles with the tears streaking down his cheeks, mixes with the saltiness of heartbreak.

It doesn’t cool the sunburn ache, doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. And you’re everywhere then – in the cracks on the wall, he believes he can see you. Believes he can reach out for you, though what he ends up doing is cranking the temperature of the shower up, until it’s not cold anymore.

Though he reckons he barely can feel it anymore.

So he forces his eyes shut, chases memories of you like a dog chases its tail – round in round, in a circle, because he thinks he’ll always circle back to you anyway. He imagines you, in all your glory. Imagines you’ve never left, imagines you’d still run your hands on his back, still dig your nails in his skin.

He doesn’t even know how his hand finds its way to the base of his dick. Doesn’t even know why he’s horny, why the pain makes him crave you more. Why it makes him touch himself, imagining it’s your touch. And with his eyes squeezed shut, you’re everywhere. The goddess of the land of his mind, and he can almost believe you’re still here.

He grunts, perhaps in pain, and picks up the pace on his dick. He remembers words whispered on your skin, your spit on his dick as you’d swallow around the tip. He remembers your tight walls, clutching him, holding him in as you’d ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He remembers a hot tub and the night that followed, remembers breaking and healing with you. Remembers the darkness of the accident, and the light you’d shine on him. The light is gone now, and only darkness remains. It’s not the same – it’s lonelier, somehow. Because he had everything, and now remains nothing. Just the ghost of what once was, and he wishes he could be taken back to the night on the hotel rooftop, wishes you’d never left.

And when he comes, it’s your name that he moans. Like a blessing, though now you’re a curse. A curse to him, and he wishes the pain would go away, wishes it would stay. Wishes it would bring you back, yet knowing he’d push you away. Because he doesn’t think there is pain as great as what you caused him, and then he curses himself for the thought.

That night, he lies awake in sheets cold as winter, weakened by his broken heart as he chases sleep that never comes.

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hongthoven · 1 year

Note

Seonghwa coming back home and s/o is sleeping on the count with ONLY his shirt only his shirt

Alright listen-

The lights were dimmed when Seonghwa entered the living-room in the middle of the night, his steps light as feathers as his eyes were quick to find your silhouette laying on the couch. As much as he loved his job and never complained about the late night studio sessions with Hongjoong, nothing could ever come close to the warmth of coming home and the instant relief of meeting you there.

Things had been hectic lately, making him busier than ever and while you were the most understanding partner he could ever wish for, Seonghwa still felt terrible about the loneliness you had to endure whenever he failed to come home at a decent hour to spend quality time with you. Without surprise, tonight seemed to have been another lonely evening spent waiting for him until you eventually passed out in front of whatever Drama you pretended to enjoy at the moment.

While his eyes were instantly drawn to your peaceful face as your chin rested upon your forearm, Seonghwa was quick to recognize the shirt wrapping your figure, the softest smile creeping up his lips just like every time he caught you wearing any piece of his own clothes. Your boyfriend loved to joke about all the pointless shopping you seemed to do as you inevitably ended up stealing entire outfits from his wardrobe.

Truth be told, you mainly loved to wear Seonghwa’s shirts just so you could find comfort in the fabric and keep his familiar scent all over you whenever you missed your boyfriend a little too much and while it remained an unspoken confession, Seonghwa had figured it out early enough to find it endearing every single time.

Taking off his coat to fold it neatly on top of the couch, Seonghwa walked closer to your sleepy figure, kneeling to your side as his eyes finally caught the parts of your body his shirt failed to cover, starting with the curve of your ass where his hand inevitably landed, palming your flesh in the softest way as his gaze traveled up to your chest, peaking at your breast while his own body started to warm up at the delightful sight.

With a soft groan, you opened your eyes, your lips curving into a smile as soon as your gaze met his. Sometimes, you couldn’t even believe he was here, his beauty so ethereal you could only see it in the movies.

“Hi beautiful” he whispered, the warmth of his breath wrapping your entire face in your favorite, comfort bubble as his hand kept creeping up and down your thigh until he eventually started to properly knead your buttcheek with a satisfied hum from his throat. Seonghwa was the epitome of an ass guy, never missing a chance to grab a handful of your bottom whenever he could and regardless of the place you stood.

“Missed me?” he smiled, leaning forward to capture your lips while you frowned and tried your best to flash him the most unimpressed pout.

“No?” he asked, a little baffled at your convincing head shake.

“My side-guy kept me busy” you smiled, turning around slightly so you could lay flat on your back while your boyfriend’s hand moved from your inner thigh to your stomach, unbuttoning his shirt until your chest was fully exposed. Within a second, his lips were tightly wrapped around your nipple, sucking at your skin at the most painfully slow pace while fondling the other with his left palm.

“Side-guy, uh? had fun?” he growled, his teeth grazing your sensitive bud on purpose as you whined, hips jolting at the painful stimulation while vaguely mumbling a ‘yes’ with your hands full of his black hair.

“Made you cum?” Seonghwa dared to ask, his mouth abandoning your tits just so he could briefly suck on his fingers, coating them with saliva as you started to grind your hips with anticipation.

“Hmm hmm” words failed you as soon as his hand found its way between your legs, fondling at your bare cunt while he whispered sweet nothing into your flesh, his teeth nibbling all over your skin from your breast to your stomach as his middle finger eventually pushed into you with no warning whatsoever.

“You let someone else fuck you while wearing my shirt? How nasty is that?” his thumb was circling your clit viciously while his middle finger curved so deep into your cunt you could feel his palm laying flat against your sensitive flesh - but just as you were about to chuckle at the little game you had decided to play, a stinging pain made you wince as Seonghwa left you with nothing but a slap against your aching pussy.

“I’ll go shower now- wait for me in our bedroom” he added with two of his fingers pinching your chin to keep your eyes locked on him. You thought he was about to kiss you then, his breath ghosting your lips in the most intimate way until he eventually smirked, getting up as you remained starved from his attention.

“Oh–” he added “and keep that shirt on”.

#Seonghwa smut #Ateez #Seonghwa x reader #Ateez smut

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

Text

Even Educated Fleas Do It

A Sarge & lil Mama episode (wedding night)

Warnings 18+ -smut! breeding kink, innocence kink, cream pies, unfortunately historically accurate portrayal of female naïveté regarding sexual acts, male entitlement to female bodies, copious dirty talk, virginity loss. This is mostly fluffy and tender and sweet with a few VERY rabid moments and feral sentences. 20k of smut and it’s surrounding auras…I have a headcanon that Baby Elvis resorts to being a bit of an ass in order to maintain his slipping control, whereas a more mature era of the man he only chooses to be a bastard out of the fun of it

Credits: my supreme thanks to the indefatigable @prompted-wordsmith for editing this mammoth and her few choice additions of sentences, and also to my discord wives: Christi, Ally and Birdy who cheered me on and really made this happen with their feedback, suggestions and enthusiasm. Lastly, to all my darling readers who’s hype for this has carried me through and now we are all saddled with this monstrosity. Y’all are the best, I live off your comments and love. Xoxo, Marina 🌹

Elaine’s fingers glide admiringly against richly black, quartz marble countertops, glinting back at her almost as brightly as the gold mirror and the gold faucets and gold tub–everything is golden up here in the master bathroom. Even the sink is gold plated, she realizes with a giggle, and stares at her reflection in the basin, flushed face and curls hanging about her features as she looks downward, distracted by the opulence and the shininess and the ability to finally breathe. An endeavor which would be aided if she obeyed her new husband—heavens to Betsy, she has a husband!—and took off her wedding gown and girdle.

She chose a simple dress to be married in, long and slender, the style and measurements entrusted to the Smith cousins and delivered by them with remarkable effect. Demure yet elegant, she felt it was a nod to the silhouette of the future, prom crinolines and ball gowns abandoned for a more streamlined effect that set off her waist to perfection, or so her wedding guests told her. And for tonight’s purposes, it had a handy zipper down the back of it that she now tugged loose to her immense relief.

It was a little puzzling, the way Elvis had torn her away from Dodger’s admonishments and hurried her upstairs to sleep, only to then shoo her into the bathroom to undress herself. Some silly part of her thought he might kiss her when they arrived up there alone, maybe dance a little, maybe help with the zipper. But he had looked very feverish and a little scared when he told her she was looking worn out, and then ushered her upstairs as the whole house party fell dead silent below them in their wake. Funny, the whole thing had felt a little funny, and they’d been having such a nice little party after the vows, daddy had been a little weepy and Elvis had looked so handsome and she had to pinch herself a dozen times that this event she’d planned was her wedding.

Her wedding—it didn’t feel real. Not without mama here, she realized, that was the missing part to it all. Mama. Hers, and his. They were both missing them. She worked at the brassiere clasps and stifled the little cry she felt coming up her throat, memories flooding in of the first time she saw Graceland.

Elvis had tore down to the studio in his fancy car, begging any and everyone to see the place he bought for his family. Father had been too busy with Cash but mama was not. So, she and Elaine had piled into his pink Cadillac and let that happy puppy of a boy whisk them away to a world of antebellum dreaminess for the afternoon. Gold, there had been so much gold even then, and Mama had ribbed the boy mercilessly about his decor choices as only Mrs. Phipps could get away with,

“Elvis dear, it looks like a tart’s bedroom up here,” she had teased him in the master where Elaine’s groom was now waiting for her daughter to make an appearance.

He had turned bright red before dissolving into hiccuping laughs that her mama had joined. He hasn’t changed the decor, gaudy chandelier hanging above a gold damask bedspread, gilt mirrors everywhere on the walls with black padded headboards and doors. It was… unique, and a little ominous if she was being honest, although maybe that had been her nerves over him rushing her up here so fast, so…urgently.

“June’s gonna love it, E!” Elaine recalls gushing to him on that first house tour, entirely unsure if June would indeed love it, but certain that anyone would be honored to be mistress of such a place, though that honor had then been firmly Miss Gladys’s right at the time.

Now it’s all hers.

Elaine swallows hard and rubs at the angry red lines on her belly and breasts that show in the mirror from her girdle, thinking of the weight of that. Thinking of how she had been wrong. This—kingdom—wasn’t for June, this had been for her.

Elaine pulls on the silky, shimmery slip he had given her the money to treat herself to, watching it as it spills over her curves and drapes her kindly. The soft baby blue color makes her skin look tan even in the wintertime and her eyes shimmer dark and smokey in the dimmed vanity lights. It takes her aback a little, the prettiness of the picture she sees in the mirror, hair freshly loosened from its pins and looking like it does when he’s had his hands in it. The kiss-nipped red of her lips is no cosmetic allusion, he’d devoured her lipstick right off a few minutes into married life, clutching her to him in the foyer, acting like hiding by the front door made them discreet.

She touches their puffy vibrancy with a small smile, thinking of him, thinking of being loved. Thinking of mansions and gold sinks and graves dug, thinking of the boy outside the door who did far more than fall in love with her. He provided, and he did it with intent. A great deal of intent. Her heart does a flip at that.

It gives her the bravery to fluff herself in the slip and ignore the nervous tremble threatening to keep her holed up in here, her skimpy attire making her blush for reasons she doesn’t know. Such silliness. She looks pretty, and she is loved. She sets her shoulders back and turns the knob.

Elvis has been pacing a furrow in the plush carpet of his bedroom and berating himself for many things, chiefly having shooed his wife away into the bathroom the first private moment they’d had together.

He is an idiot, he concludes, a prize idiot.

He should have trapped her against the door and kissed the daylights outta her, maybe laid her out all romantically on the bed and caressed her like the movies taught her to expect. At least helped undo the damn zipper. But no, no he panicked, and trying to be a good man, he had sent her into the bathroom alone to strip while he talked his heart and cock into some semblance of restraint. He tears at his hair and tosses his suit jacket on the chair and tries to think of what he’s gonna do, how he’s gonna manage this. He had come across Dodger and Elaine in a tête-à-tête and heard the words from his Grandma:

“Make sure that boy licks ya nice and good ‘fore he tries to stick his pecker in—”

and had proceeded to panic and grab his new bride and hustle her upstairs for “sleep”. He’d caught Mr. Phipps’s pleading eyes on the way up and now he felt like a first team all American pervert. Gone was the sweet, comforting weight of the wedding vows, the religious aura the day had carried with it. Replacing that was a deep seated shame for how often he’d wanked to the thought of this night and all it entails.

In his dreams it had been fun to shock the girl by bending her over and putting it in, watching her eyes go wide and her struggle under him to adjust, but that was before he loved Elaine, he thinks. Now he tears at his hair, paces his bedroom eyeing the bathroom door like it’ll open and release a lion, and wonders how he’s gonna cherish her like he should, when his wants and his adoration keep vying for the upper hand. She boils his blood, shoots lightening up his spine and keeps him stiff at all times, and simultaneously, he is warm pudding when she smiles, and bluer than robin’s eggs when she’s sad.

The weight of getting all he ever wanted, the weight of actually having married himself off, the weight of mama’s hope coming true and her buried right under the window—he feels a little unhinged by it all, and he starts mumbling out incoherent prayers for guidance and self control and a capacity to not fuck up Elaine Presley’s first time. Because that’s just it: she’s Elaine Presley now, and he has a duty to the woman he married ‘afore God to make it good, t-to…

The bathroom door opens and the shimmering vision of Elaine and her feminine assets clad in nothing but a silk slip stops him dead in his tracks, his mouth liable to catch flies it gapes so at her beauty. She looks poised even jiggling and nipple perked in a light drape of silk, and he inwardly curses when her initial confidence seems to flag upon noticing the state he’s in.

Fully dressed with just his suit jacket discarded and here she is near naked—it’s not kind, he knows that, and curses again at his self absorption.

He looks like he’s gone a little mad, she thinks, and she can tell he’s been tearing at his hair in that fidgety way of his when he’s working himself up to a frenzy. It won’t do him good, she knows him, knows he’ll start hyperventilating and that always panics him.

It’s this urge to calm him that has her forgetting her bashfulness and crossing the floor to embrace him, his warm and clothed body pressed against hers in a hug he returns fervently.

“Ya look like an angel,” he rasps his praise in her ear and she is so pleased by that, and by the look of awed admiration on his face that makes her forget to blush, too pleased to be coy.

“Do ya have a new bird, Elvis?” she asks him, trying to distract him from whatever it is that has him so anxious she can near feel him vibrating against her.

“Uh, umm, a bird?” he is truly thrown by that and more than a little distracted by the feel of slippery silk curves molding to him in his arms.

“Dodger was saying—”

Dodger was talking about “peckers” he recalls, and is fast to cut her off in a great rush,

“No, no uh, I haven’t got no bird—sides you,” he jokes weakly and fails to add more, just staring down at Elaine in his arms, Elaine who stares back, her expression curious and amused and maybe a tad unsure.

Of course she’s unsure, you fool, he berates himself after finding his way back to steady thought. God, he should… do something.

“Elvis,” she pipes up and her voice is small but hopeful, “can I help you get comfortable?” and she thumbs at the ruffles of his dress shirt.

He feels his flush paint his neck and his body feels like it’s alight, but it’s perfectly reasonable for her to ask. It’s just that he knows her sweet confidence stems from her not even knowing enough to be bashful, and that’s… heady.

“Yeah,” he croaks and squeezes her to him once more before letting her set work to undoing the ruffled shirt he wore, sans tie.

She’s methodical and steady undoing the shirt, even as she flicks those lined eyes up at him, desperate for his assuring little nods and pleased smiles. He takes to stroking her cheek, running his knuckles across the high bones there and over her bitten lips, she kisses them with each pass.

Last button undone she spreads the fabric apart and places her hands on his chest, a wild delight showing on her face as she runs her hands across his pecs and collar bones, down to his belly, swooping up and down his arms, taking the shirt with it.

It falls to the ground and yet her hands continue to glide across his fevered skin entranced by the warmth and the contours. She’s wanted to feel his heartbeat for a long while now. Watching that tattle tale vein in his neck thump was the closest thing she could content herself with all these months. Her hands drift to his neck and sure enough, it’s thumping like a race horse at a gallop.

She excites him. That thought makes her eyes flick down to his trousers, recalling that strange spurt against her backside on the swing. He’d called that excitement, too.

She moves to open the button of his slacks and his belly sucks in with the breath he holds, she can feel it against her knuckles as she undoes it. She rubs her knuckles soothingly against the fine trail of hair disappearing into his waistband, it makes him shudder instead.

So far, everything on display she has seen before at the pool with him, but more, the prospect of more makes her heart speed up and her curious mind whirl. She’s a little preoccupied with all this as she starts to push the pants over his hips and while he doesn’t prevent her, his motion is a bit jerky when he clasps his hands around her jaw and tilts her eyes away from his hips and the curious bulge there, up to his face.

She hears his belt and the fabric thud to the floor just as his lips descend to meet hers, and then she grows distracted by the kiss he melts her with.

“Hey you,” he whispers hot and breathy against her lips, pillowy plushness rubbing together, kiss-slick and scorching.

And he’s right, it feels like finally seeing each other for the first time today. They’ve a decent rapport together when surrounded by friends and acquaintances, a very seamless dance of social politeness and steadying closeness. But nothing compares to the way they sizzle and melt when it’s just the two of them, like their inner selves are finally allowed to make a showing on their faces in the form of dazed smiles and in the slump of their shoulders, the bellies no longer held in nor the sighs longing to spill out.

“Oh, Elvis,” she manages to gasp, grinning and huffing at the proximity, the way her nipples rub against his chest from the crush of his embrace, just a silken layer between them, and it sends electric static down to her very toes.

“Ya happy?” he dares to ask because she is grinning so silly and sweet right there in his arms.

“Terribly happy!” she doesn’t bother with aloofness, her hands kneading his shoulders and he breathes again, recalling that this is Elaine, sweet Elaine who has gentled him back into the land of the living these last few weeks by simply knowing and caring for him, and while it’s a terrifying responsibility to do right by her—it’s also the best thing to ever happen to him. Elaine, here, in his arms, in his room, as his wife.

“Just ya wait till I get some champagne in ya,” he teases, waggling her chin in his hand and she looks surprised and a little excited by that.

“Elvis I-I’m too young,” she whispers, a guilty and hopeful little thing that suggests she is very amenable to champagne.

“You naughty lil thing, I see that hopeful glimmer in’ya eye,” he clicks his tongue and she giggles, “It’s lawful if your husband pours it for ya.”

“Is that so?” she bites her lip and her eyes twinkle up at him, falling easily into the banter, “Then I’d like to try it—since it’s lawful and all.”

“Mhmm, champagne, an’ a record, that’ll set us up jus’ right, I think.” He’s nearly buzzing himself, feels a little drunk even though there’s not a drop of alcohol in him.

“Don’t want ya to have to go down to the kitchen and leave me, though,” she admits, a little shy. His gut clenches at the confession, the way her lashes dip and fan over her cheekbones. He’d get beat by his mama if’n she knew of the unholy thoughts the pout of her lips made him think. He reels himself back to the present with a persistence that few things in his life made him exercise. For Elaine, his patience was boundless, because she doesn’t wanna be alone, or, rather, she wants to be alone with him. The simple acknowledgement sends his heart racing in hope that he’s managing to do something right, enough that she can’t bear for him to even pop down to the kitchen for a minute.

“Guess what, sugar?” he grins while fluffing her hair away from her face and she perks up, that mouth lifting inquiringly, “I got a refrigerator in the closet.”

“No!”

“Yup.” Elvis’ boyish grin grows until it’s a dazzling, proud smile and he begins to back up, she goes with, still clinging to his arms and giggling in excitement as he backs them into the gargantuan changing room.

“Where?” she cranes her neck this way and that, soon spinning in his arms as she tries to spy a refrigerator amongst the rows and rows of custom suits and well stocked shelving.

He holds up his finger for her attention, and gathering all his showmanship, backs away from her until he reaches the built-in cabinets and with a dramatic flourish flings open the wooden door to reveal his mini Frigader.

“No. Way,” she enunciates dramatically as her pretty mouth hangs open in delight and his own heart clenches and-

-God! Elaine! I can give you so much, he thinks, hang in there with me, I can give so much, I'll make ya fall in love.

He throws her a wink before bending over and retrieving the planted bottle and chilled glasses from inside. The fact he’s bent over double in just his briefs only registering when he’s already got his head half in the refrigerator, and her burning stare threatens to light his ass on fire. He straightens up and spins round to present her with his ribbon adorned findings, noticing her blush scarlet and flick her eyes back to his face.

-My, my, Miss Elaine, what a curious little mind you have.

He kicks the fridge closed and closes the distance between them again, handing her the glasses while taking her other hand in his and leading her back into the dimly lit bedroom. She sets the glasses on the sideboard top and goes to put the needle down on the record after he tells her “Ella’s already on there”, while he smoothes down the profusion of crinkle ribbon around the bottle neck in preparation to open it.

Elaine adjusts the needle and gets the record going and soon Ella Fitzgerald croons warmly:

-Birds do it, bees do it

She turns back around and watches as Elvis begins to gnaw on the champagne cork with his million watt, pearly white money-making teeth.

“What on earth are you doin’?” she protests, hurrying back to him. He’s like a rabbit with the thing, she thinks humorously.

-Even educated fleas do it,

He pulls the spit slicked cork away from his mouth to explain in a loathing huff, “Forgot to bring an opener up here.” And he doesn’t want to leave his baby, goes unsaid, doesn’t wanna leave her since she said she didn’t want him to leave.

-So let’s do it, let’s fall in love

Elaine’s lip wobbles into a fond smirk even as she tries to maintain some sternness, “You’ll break a tooth, E!” she warns even as her heart throbs at the sweetness of it.

“Nah, nah I’ll get it, my baby wanted champagne n’ she’s gonna have it,” he insists as she makes aborted little movements with her hands to try to aid him but is unsure of what to do or hold. “Here, hold the end, I’m gonna try’n pull it out, probably gonna gush so, be ready.”

And so Elaine finds herself in a laughing fit, holding onto the bulbous bottom of a champagne bottle as Elvis Presley himself buries his nose in the thatch of ribbons and gnaws the cork loose, like a dog with a bone, yanking this way and that while growling playfully around it.

“This is the silliest thing—” she wheezes even as his jaw’s yanking motion makes her feet slip closer, her light weight losing ground in this tug-o-war until suddenly there’s a pop and down he goes, flat on his ass, cork in mouth, champagne showering him from above.

He’s curled in on himself at her feet, all long tan limbs contorted and white briefs quickly becoming transparent, crunched in half from the force of his laughter and partly to shield his eyes from the alcohol rain. She watches in a bit of a state, though she’s unsure of what kind, as golden alcohol glistens over that heart, pools in every divot of him and even sparkles tauntingly on inky lashes.

“Quick, quick catch it baby!” he waves at her frantically through his wheezing hiccups, “With your mouth, put it in yer mouth!” he explains and she suddenly snaps her attention away from watching his underwear cling to him and brings the bottle up to her mouth.

She chugs on command, her throat working rhythmically and her eyes wide at the new taste, bubbly spillage glossing up her chin and chest and down her slip, a dark trail that makes his mouth dry out with thoughts of other things. She pulls away with a gasp and a wet pop as he struggles to his knees, cupping himself like that’ll detract from his obvious outline, thanking heaven his jitters seem to have kept him half mast.

“Here, it’s fizzy,” she informs him like that’s news to him before bringing the bottle down to his lips and tipping the champagne into his slack mouth. His hands fly out to rest on her hips, steadying himself as she pours the celebratory drink down his throat. “Cheers!” she giggles as he taps out his max capacity on her hips, his breath fully gone and his cheeks bulging with the fizz.

“Here’s to you, Mrs. Presley,” he gasps after his swallow, smiling up at her stupidly sweet.

Elaine isn’t sure if it’s his breathlessness, those fathomless blue eyes looking up at her adoringly or the way he’s proving he’d do anything to please her, but she’s suddenly filled with a burning compulsion to eat him up. And she acts on it, bending down to slot their mouths together, one hand gripping his sticky shoulder and the other still holding onto the bottle neck.

He rises to his feet in an effortlessly smooth motion, hands dragging up the curve of her as he goes until they tangle in her hair, his arms criss crossed over her back and then the real kissing begins, the kind he had figured he’d gentle her into but she seems to have already found a taste for. It’s open mouthed and sloppy and she nearly lets the bottle slip from her hand as she seems to levitate right out of her skin and upwards to some hot and hazy sphere where a pink tongue dances with her own.

And sweet Lord, she loves the way he kisses her, large hands yanking her head back by her hair so he can pour his passion into her keening mouth from above, his arms encompassing her shoulders and pressing her to him, his plush mouth working her up to a frenzy. She squeezes his shoulder, in retribution or encouragement, she doesn’t know which, for the ache he always manages to spark in her belly. Speaking of, his soaked underwear is pressed to her belly and dampening the fabric of her slip so it, too, becomes tacky and drags as he shifts against her, almost like they’re riding waves together, grappling in a gentle struggle for leverage in this caress.

-electric eels, I might add, do it, though it shocks ‘em I know,

She’s a responsive little thing, his new wife, and fiesty in her affection, too. Her nails dig into his back and make him hiss pleasurably and he finds he can’t help but hump the little curve of her belly beneath the silk, wet briefs tantalizingly coarse against his cock. It occurs to him this is a precious moment, for many reasons, but particularly for the fact that never again will she kiss him without at least some anticipation of more to follow. What’s a kiss that goes nowhere? A kiss that devours and consumes and grapples and bites but has no destination? Her whole body conforms to his in an effort to get closer as they sway in the middle of his bedroom floor, but she knows of nothing after this, she doesn’t know it’s leading anywhere. The kiss is all she knows. It’s like she has an incomplete map, one he gets to draw the big red ‘X’ at the end of. He wonders if a body can combust if kissed long enough, if he can make her shatter apart just by ignorant need and a searingly good necking. He pours more energy into plundering her mouth and ignores her whimpers begging for a breath.

Elaine finds her free hand sliding from his shoulder down the plush side of his ribs, tacky with champagne, and thumbs at the soaked waistband of his briefs. It makes him break their kiss at last, near drowned for air and his eyes wild as he rears back to study her face.

“You’re getting me sticky,” she whispers smilingly and watches him lick her spit from his lips with a languid tongue.

“Ya could just say you want me nekid,” he quips, and nearly swallows his tongue in horror right after, holding his breath to see how the joke lands.

Elaine is… taken aback, judging by the way her eyes widen and her cheeks flame bright in the dim light of the bedroom, but she truthfully shrugs and murmurs while staring past him, “I would really like to see ya, E.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he whispers back earnestly and she flicks her eyes back to meet his before her smile returns and she makes a motion to one handedly strip him before thinking better of it.

She takes another chug from the champagne bottle instead and he chuckles, making a motion with his hands to hand it to him when she’s done. She gives it over and he gulps down the liquid courage while trying to go somewhere else as Elaine begins to carefully peel his soaked tighty whities down his legs. Her yittle fingers make it mighty difficult.

-God, I hope she’s at least seen a penis before, he prays. Or, or actually no. I hope she hasn’t, I hope she has no fuckin clue about any other man, most certainly no trimmed up, affluent, all American, circumcised one.

While he’s busy making his nose burn with the bubbles he’s downing like water, Elaine takes a moment to feast her eyes on tan thighs and the boney cradle of his hips, defined by a lean belt of muscle descending from his abdomen and that faint dusty trail of hair that was pointing downwards to a destination after all. He’s pink and soft and harmless looking down there, very much like the anatomy sketches she’s seen in the medical books. A limp little tail-like thing that hangs between his legs with a sheath of skin covering it, pillowed atop a very heavy looking sack that’s a couple shades darker than the shaft thingy. Maybe men have a bladder on the outside, she ponders.

She finds herself a little relieved, and also stupidly endeared. It’s his privates, she should let him be, they’re not like hers that have a dual purpose of child bearing and peeing. They’re just his soft parts and he’s terribly sweet to let her satisfy her curiosity about them, and so she rises back to her feet with a pleased sigh, having refrained from the stupid impulse of reaching out and grabbing hold of them. Elvis lets out a ragged sigh of his own and looks like he’s trying to read her brain as she presses another kiss to his lips.

“Thank ya,” she chirps and he raises his eyebrows in surprise that this is going so well.

It goes well until it gets weird. And by weird Elvis means his sweet young wife starting to circle him like he’s a damn statue, her hand trailing over his skin and letting out appreciative little noises at the way his muscles twitch beneath her fingers. His ribs tickle and his arms jitter and his back tenses and then there’s that throat closing feeling of her palming the swell of his ass, admiring and entitled as you please. He feels a bit like a prize horse, being eyed up at auction, Elaine the buyer that’s testing to see if he’s a well-bred stallion. Seeing if he’s a good breeding partner, if he’s made of good stock.

Elaine’s appraisal halts at his other side, she’s got a hand gliding up his sternum like the feel of sparse chest hair is equal to the most priceless Persian rug, and her other hand keeps petting the swell of his ass as she presses kisses to his shoulder—oh god help him, he likes it, much as it makes him squirm, this entirely unexpected review of his assets has him standing at attention and hoping she approves. Something else starts to try to stand to attention and it’s through a helpless sort of mortified resignation he feels little Elvis twitch in earnest. The sorta twitch that’ll lead to precum sputtering out soon enough.

She notices. Of course she does, he feels her lips fall away from his shoulder so she can peer over it at the growing developments, and with unerring accuracy she repeats the motion she had just made, expecting a similar result if providing the right equation. His cock is feeling benevolent if a little demure tonight, and he can’t help but flex his hips as the next rush of blood makes the thing move again. Oh damn, he thinks, they’re getting somewhere now, and he’s not yet given a single lesson.

Elaine had long harbored a rather inordinate curiosity about the male figure, her swimming hole adventures and glimpses of mechanics stripped down covered in grease had all inspired a rather alarming curiosity in her girlish head as to what the male form looked like… unimpeded. She thought it silly that there was such emphasis on men’s tastes being visual, on pinups and advertising girls selling dish soap that had nothing to do with the bikinis prominently filled out. For her, Marlon Brando swaggering around in a sweat soaked singlet had done more to convince her to move to a New Orleans tenement than all those skimpy dressed floozies ever had ever convinced a regular ole father of three to buy Lucky Strikes. But to touch? To feel searing hot masculine blood pumping right beneath that terribly smooth skin and the dip and give of his muscles beneath her palm? Her chest aches and her hands move of their own accord, wondrously eager to make him wag between his legs again, like a happy tail swelling and jerking with each squeeze she gives his butt.

“Elvis, you’re so pretty,” she gushes the admiration swirling around and around in her mind and feels the whole long, lean, glorious length of his shudder at the comment.

She’s enchanted with his body, he realizes, he’s pleasing to her, and her hands flutter in a hopeless want to touch him everywhere and it’s all he can do not to seize a dainty hand and wrench her away from this sweet perusal and make her grip him here he needs it. He wants, needs, filthy things from her. And she just thinks he’s pretty. The moan he stifles with his hand is only fuel to her fire.

“Uh—” he begins, figuring he better get somethin about the mechanics of things out before this sweetness turns him feral and the tempting thoughts to just… sneak it in her… take precedence in his brain.

“What’s it doin’?” she interrupts instead, and he savors the feel of her holding his bare waist while he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking steady breaths, forcing some blood back up to his brain.

“I-i-it’s, it’s gettin’ excited,” he figures is an honest start, “F-firmin up.”

“Why?” she asks curiously, sounding ever so child-like, still petting his sides like, like—like he’s her pet.

He wouldn’t mind being her pet. He’s foolin’ himself thinkin’ he isn’t already, she’s just embracing her role with innocent confidence, unencumbered by silly knowledge of roles and shit, like he is.

“Well, uh, it’s, it’s—” he bites his lip harshly before gently grabbing her arms and moving her round to face him, stroking her neck soothingly while keeping her at a safe distance where her silk clad belly won’t encourage little Elvis any faster. “It’s gotta firm up as, it’s, it’s, it’s my key, baby,” he explains gently, watching with burning concentration for any flicker of understanding flitting across her earnest face.

“Your key?” she repeats gravely, that nagging feeling returning that there’s more to this… marriage business… then she’s been told, and she’s about at the end of her patience with being fobbed off the topic. “Elvis—” she goes to appeal for an answer to his generous nature, the lush set of his features above her sweet and sultrily eager as her own, encouraging her that he’ll humor her—

“Elaine, we gotta have a business meetin’,” he declares, effectively cutting her off, and it’s the voice he uses at conference tables with the colonel or with reporters but she knows it’s him scrambling to grab hold of some control. Ever wary of the delicate state of his emotions these days, she holds her peace. “Bout, b-bout marriage,” he clarifies and for the first time since coming up here, a cold shard of fear slices through the gooey warmth of his presence.

“Alright,” she agrees, firmly supportive, squeezing his arms to emphasize that she’s on his side in this, she takes her cues from him. It’s what good wives do, and it’s what all of humanity does when Elvis Presley starts to direct a thing.

Her compliance has the intended result of soothing him, his jitters calm under her hands and the light beam of her encouraging smile. He gives a few small nods of his head as if agreeing with an unspoken suggestion, and Elaine is entirely certain he’s got a self affirming monologue running up there in that pretty head to drown out whatever has him so panicked.

Alight with her touch, with thoughts of her and her lil house and making it good, making sure it takes, of finally having what he’s dreamed about for goin’ on two years now, he feels his knees near buckle and he murmurs hurriedly,

“Let’s sit on the–the bed for a minute.”

Hand in hand, and at a head clearing distance from each other, they mosey over to the canopied wonder that is his bed, decked out in black and gold, tufted pockets of down beckoning for a bounce amongst, and Elaine can’t help herself. Maybe it’s the champagne or a stubborn desire to keep the jubilant atmosphere alive but she slips her hand out of his with a parting squeeze and launches herself into the downy sea of gold.

His stride falters and he watches with a fondness he feels deep in his gut as his Elaine bounces into the bed like a giddy child, her long limbs splayed artlessly and the swell of her ass rippling under baby blue silk, a sliver more of inner thigh visible as it rides up, kicking her footsies gleefully for good measure before she lifts that darling face and grins at him beckoningly through a curtain of chocolate curls.

God he loves her. And this is what he’ll get to see and feel and love for all the coming nights, for the rest of his life. He moseys up to the bed and reaches out, caressing Elaine’s shiny locks back in place, matching her smile in an endeavor to help keep this mood as joyous as it should be. She grabs at his wrist that is petting her hair and pulls him atop her. Weak and wanting, he goes, registering with searing clarity the first feel of his long limbs being pressed atop every inch of her smaller frame, the bedspread tufting beneath their combined weight.

He is burning hot atop her, and so much larger than her own body, she realizes with a thrill that tingles down to her very toes. She resumes her petting of the wings of his shoulder blades, smooth and sweaty beneath her hands and she wiggles beneath the new sensation of his thighs pressed to her own, and his hips cradled by her hips, fitting together effortlessly. It’s delightful and she acts on the urge to tilt his face out from the bedspread and seek more kisses from those cherry red lips of his.

Elaine keeps undulating under him, spurred on by a thousand heady new sensations, slippery as an eel in her silk, and Elvis’s mind blanks at the feel of her eager and squirmy body beneath his. He forgets about lessons and marriage and sacred duties and instead acts on his most natural instinct which is to kiss her back ferociously and buck against the cradle of her hips ‘till his cock weeps for joy at finally being heeded.

As natural as riding a tandem bike, after the initial wobble for balance, Elaine quickly finds his rhythm and grinds along with him in a unified dance for propulsion, feeling something besides his champagne-sticky skin begin to slick up her nightslip.

That’s the wet smear of his excitement, she realizes, and rocks up more vigorously to encourage him. His penis is a throbbing pipe between them, and while she can’t see it, she can feel the thing growing and digging into her belly and she thinks of keys and she wonders, and aches. The whine her groom lets out, once hazily recognizing the fact she’s actually trying to aid his pleasure like a good wife should, is pulled from deep in his gut into her open mouth, sending a triumphant shudder through her.

“Sweet—lord—fuck—Elaine,” he blasphemes into her ear in a pained cry, his hand a mere agent of his cock as it fumbles between them frantically to pull up the hem of her slip.

Her hot breath fans against his face in shocked gusts and if he cracked open his screwed shut eyes he’s pretty sure he'd see her looking a little scandalized, which is why he doesn’t open them. He’ll save that for when he’s balls deep inside her and there ain’t a lawful thing she can do about it. For now he just doggedly hikes up her slip until it’s halfway up her belly and his balls are rubbing amongst the pettiest thatch on a beaver he ever did see. Not that he sees it now, mind you. No, his eyes stay closed and he forces her into another kiss lest she protest, but he recalls the particulars of her cunt like that addled inspection he made of her lady parts was yesterday and—

—her lil house, his promise, his duty! It all comes crowding back to his mind with an icy damper just as her hands glide down to land with a strong and naively lecherous grip on his ass and he—

—he might have made it if it weren’t for that grab. It’s not a good precedent to blame one’s wife for a loss of control but he’s afraid that’s just what it is, a precedent when, heedless of her confusion, he grips her delicate shoulders in each of his hands and leverages up, one pump, two pumps, three pumps amongst the slick petals of her pussy and then, then it’s white hot satisfaction and… Elaine.

Elaine, Elaine, Elaine—oh how I love you, oh how I want you, Elaine, Elaine, Elaine, you drive me nuts.

“Oh, oh wha—oh,” through the ringing haze of busting a nut against her, Elvis can hear her bewildered enjoyment as he spurts and slicks her up real messy, grinding against her pearl with powerful, heedless strokes.

He stops his whimpering moans and sucks in a breath, still somewhere else in his bliss and utterly unmoored, but not so useless as to stop moving along to her guiding hands on his butt.

Her breathy gasps are—they’re everything he’s ever fantasized about, and to make up for blowing his load like a green boy, he keeps up the pace she wants, slippin’ and a’slidin against her, listening intently as her pitch spikes when his cock smudges her clit with his head. She begins to replace each gasp with a noisy inhale.

“Wha-what’s oh, Elvis what’s—” she finds her voice just enough to babble as her head thrashes in a confused protest a few times amongst the golden tufts.

Then her hands clench on her handful of backside before the head of his cock slips in its glide and snags against her untried door. The bitten off shriek of surprised ecstasy she lets out, and the cruel bite of her nails in his butt, the rigid spasm of her thighs beneath his, tells him she’s gotten a taste of the heaven he just indulged in early.

“That’s it, that’s it, it’s nice feelin’, ain’t it?” he preemptively shushes her worries, the ones that gather even now on her brow the minute her pleasure ebbs away enough for rational thought to raise its pesky head.

“Elvis, I—what was—” she pants and can’t find the words or courage to finish her question, she just blushes beneath him instead, and for the first time tonight he can sense her feeling insecure.

“That was actin’ married, baby,” he answers simply, cupping her face and letting his thumbs rub soothing circles in her hairline. “You alright? Did I scare ya?” he whispers, terrified in suspense as Elaine seems to give his question thought, reviewing the recent memory of her first orgasm with typical, analytical detachment.

“It felt… tingly,” she decides, having to acknowledge no harm was done and this sated feeling of her melting into a puddle beneath him is rather lovely. “I liked it,” she decides, then insists as he still looks down at her, chestnut hair falling into his eyes and his worried mouth wobbling like a scared baby’s. “I liked it a lot.”

“Ya liked it?” he perks up, his lip curling in a smile, eager as a puppy, and she remembers him asking her the same thing, in the same eager way, about the grand staircase when he first showed her Graceland.

“Yes, yes I did,” she nods emphatically, ignoring how something seems to hang in the air about them now, something more that prods her to ask, “What now?”

Because “more” feels like a third person in this room and her curiosity has been too long deferred.

“Now we have that business meetin’,” he replies gravely, as if he suspects her of plotting against the meeting and its solemn necessity.

He tries to pitch his voice down in a bid to sound authoritative, but all she can think of are his pitiful little whimpers as he wet her belly. She smirks and reaches up to push his hair out of his eyes. “Yessir, Private,” she teases, immensely pleased with herself when he lets out a throaty laugh and rolls his eyes in response.

He pulls his body away from her, forcing himself not to cringe at the goopy mess he made of her pussy, or the resiliently adhesive string of spunk that refuses to break the connection between them as he pulls away. She is watching his every expression, he knows, every movement, the bat of his eyes, all being used to form her own opinion of this and he is careful not to show any reaction that might have her embarrassed, or worse, thinking the act gross. Sex is nasty, and he fuckin’ loves it for it. And if he can help it, so will she.

He twists off her and rolls on his side, sitting up where his legs dangle off the bed and he flips her slip back down in what he hopes is a subtle but swift enough gesture to be considered gentlemanly. She sits up beside him and folds her hands expectantly in her lap, her legs swinging off the bed beside his own and if he thinks too long about the fact he’s probably dribbling down her primly closed thighs, he’ll go insane all over again.

Get this part done and then you can go nuts, he tells himself, then it’s free reign. Or, well, nearly.

“Elaine baby,” he begins, this time his voice is naturally deep and earnest as it often is when discussing something very important, she recognizes it and gives him all her attention, “Do ya know anythin’ bout what mamas and daddies do when they go to bed?”

Her head is still fuzzy from whatever trickery they just engaged in, the way his hand now descends to her thigh making the pounding between them worse than ever even as the pleasure is sharper, more satisfying than any she’s achieved. It clouds her mind and stalls her reply. She thinks that she could answer smartly that he just showed her what they do, or she could say she knows they sleep, or she could rattle off a buncha scared suggestions that might make her seem a little less lost, a little less dumb about this whole thing. But she trusts him, trusts him to be kind and patient, to want to be married anyway. So she bites down her pride and shakes her head adamantly, not a shred of flippancy left.

“Well, part of bein’ married is makin’ babies, right?” he responds, “And that happens in a marriage bed, or least—that’s where it happens first time ya try,” Elvis explains the best he can, his voice gentle and his drawl persuasive like it had been when he showed her cords on the guitar. “Now we uh, we’ve talked bout your lil house already,” he notes and she nods with sober and locked on fascination, waiting for him to drop a hint of something that will make practical sense, “and I done told ya bout my key. You felt it gettin all firm, yeah? Then sprayin’ ya belly—sorry bout that, jus’ got me so excited, went ahead of myself—well, baby, ya see…” He twists his lower lip with his fingers in one last pained procrastination before getting the rest out in a measured slur, “To make a baby the daddy’s key has gotta go inside the mama’s house a-a-and unlock her.”

He holds his breath and watches this lesson land home on her sweet face. He takes note of each stage of comprehension as it morphs her face. First there’s her squint of concentration, then the eyebrow quirk of confirmed speculation, then the lip bite of second guessing his meaning, then crystal clear compression that seems to freeze her features in one of disbelief until they reanimate in a frenzy of emotion that culminates in her heavily fringed eyes darting down to stare at his recently spent, half mast cock. His key, he corrects himself, and like a damned pet, it wags under her wide eyed study.

“Oh ha, oh.” She tries to master her gasps and they just come out in a tumble anyway, staring at that strangely animate part of him that is nothing like any one of hers. The longer she looks the larger it grows, the sheath drawing back and revealing a tender looking tip, so vibrantly red it matches the flush splotching down his chest. It looks like it’s aches, and she suddenly has sympathy for the eager thing. At her aborted movement to touch it, she sees it sputter out clear fluid, as if weeping for her attention.

A great many bits of hearsay, of anatomical layouts studied, some Bible passages about “goin into her” and a few racy lyrics flash through her mind like star witnesses confirming his account of married life. She suddenly wants to laugh at the absurdity of not putting it all together until the wagging heft of the thing swelling beneath her stare makes her suddenly hope he’s wrong. Or, or -teasing, he’s gotta be teasing.

Oh course he is! Her shoulders loosen up and she lets out a great big sigh before meeting his stormy eyes and poking the soft rolls of his belly warningly, “You had me there!” she tsks and begins to laugh the more she thinks of the idea of him shoving his… his pee pee… up her to make a child.

Elvis doesn’t laugh, he looks suddenly quite alarmed and her merriment dies on her lips, stuttering out at the sight of his earnest face.

“You. Are. Teasin,” she repeats with a pleading diction, “You don’t really -oh gosh y- you ain’t pullin’ my leg, Elvis?” she almost whimpers, her mother’s proper nomenclature gone right out of her pretty mind at the idea of that chubby snake thing inside her.

“I ain’t pullin’ your leg sweetheart.” he swears, no hint of mockery in his voice, “That cream ya felt…coming out, the sticky stuff, i-it shoots up in ya a-a-and fertilizes y-your eggs. I-it’s called making love, baby, cause it’s-it’s makin…love.”

Elaine feels her face growing hot at that visual and would like all these components to make less sense right about now. It all comes together in her logic like a missing piece of the human puzzle, but far from being the Devine enlightenment she was expecting, she finds it’s a sticky, bobbing, whining, gushing, squelching process that isn’t remotely medical or Devine. It’s comedic, and her jaw clenches in protest at the absurdity of it all. God really must enjoy a good laugh, forcing folks to spew and shake apart like idiots just to keep the human race alive.

“Why’s it growin?” She demands hotly, resigned to the logic but quite unappreciative of the fact that the more excited about making babies his key gets, the more likely its growing size will make it impossible to fit inside her.

“It’s getting firm so it can go in,” he defends his offending boner as meekly as possible, eager to get back in her good graces and refusing to listen to little Elvis’ cries of offended honor, “A-a-and so it’ll feel good inside ya.” he makes sure to tack on and notices her incredulous left eyebrow shoot up to her hairline.

“That so?” she asks, utterly sarcastic.

“Yes!” he pleads and her face softens a little at his hurt tone, at his obvious honesty, “Once inside it’ll rub ya all nice like it felt a minute ago. ‘Member that? this’ll be like that just… even better.”

“I-I-I do, I do recall,” she softens at his worried face, realizes he thinks she’s gonna back down from this and curses the fact she’d really rather. Impotent anger rises up in her for a brief flash that she didn’t have more time to prepare for this, that no one told her so she might settle her terrified little belly to the thought of him—

—it’s too awful to be pondered for long and she takes a great deep breath and holds it in the way she learned at the hospital, to calm a bout of panic, staring off across the room at the portrait of Jesus he has hung by the closet door. She thinks about how best to fly away while he does what is necessary, she thinks about babies, she thinks about how pretty and sweet he is. She thinks about her mama, and wonders if the procedure is so awful, why didn’t she and every woman in her life warn and prepare her for it? Now her aunt’s words make sense. Be good and let him do what he needs to. If this is what he needs to do, then she reckon’s she’ll just have to let him see to it.

“Elaine?” he begs her to look at him, his warm hand gently grabbing her chin and turning her face to his like an ornery mule by its bridal. “Elaine, what’s in that pretty head? Talk to me please,” he puts his face all up in her own’s business, hands cradling her face and noses brushing, she can feel the brush of his lips when he speaks again softly, “Ya don’t think God would tell folks to be fruitful then make it awful for ‘em, do ya?”

It’s as if he’s read her mind, her own rationalization on the subject and she gives a slow nod of dissent, “no,” she agrees, and realizes due to her watery voice that she must’ve started crying somewhere along the way. It rankles her, being so skittish, being so troublesome for her groom when she’s not even been married a full day.

Lord, instead of being angry, he’s nuzzling her tear tracks across her face and swearing never ending tenderness to her. Her heart does another flip as his lips trail down her neck, and she warms again, her ache returns and it reminds her of his own. She tilts her head so he can better suck at the soft skin of her neck and casts her eyes down to his lap, finding him still eager. His key looks so desperate and needy, and despite her grievance against its size, her hand darts out instinctively to swipe at the leaking mushroom head like she would anyone’s tears from beneath their eyes.

It has a rather startling effect on her young husband.

Elvis lets out a choked cry and crushes her arms where he holds them, his kiss bitten cry turns into a chomp on her shoulder as the shock of his reaction makes her squeeze his member harder, eliciting a yet greater amount of pleasurable anguish from him. The way the previously dribbling precum gushes over her knuckles is entirely the most heady thing she’s ever managed to feel in her life. That molten warmth in her belly ignites again, and she kisses his own neck in delight at the responses he gives her, even as she drags the flat of her palm up and down his key, taking notes on the way he bucks against it.

“Elaine—” he garbles into her throat and she kneads his neck comfortingly even as she continues to watch the way this new friend throbs and gushes under her tiniest attentions. Like a personable pet or a responsive baby, it’s a joy to have something react to her with such inordinate eagerness.

“Alright, I believe ya,” she whispers soothingly as she thumbs at his leaking slit and strokes down his foreskin, noticing a definite ridge and then a puffy head differentiating the head from the rest of the shaft, “Just the tip has to go in, right?” she surveys the bulbous little head and calms herself. It’s not that big, just awfully wide. She can manage it, for the babies.

“N-no baby.” he stutters into her throat, miserable and worried sick about repeatedly having to be contrary, “S’all gotta go in.”

“But, but you can just spray up once it’s in!” she cries out, laughingly incredulous and a single sentence away from reverting back to suspecting him of playing a trick, “Why’s the whole thing gotta go in when it shoots the stuff a foot or more?”

That’s- that’s a worrisomely valid point, he thinks, but he can only deal with the logic of her hand fondling his cock right now and so he insists, “No baby, it’s gotta go deep, way up in your belly so it don’t get lost with all the cake ya ate.”

“That ain’t gonna get very deep.” she’s rather unimpressed with his length and it brings him right back down to earth with an Elaine shaped thump, “It’s the girth that’s unnecessarily…plentiful.”

“Ya sayin’ God didn’t know what he was doin when he made me?“ Elvis feigns outrage and pulls away to grin at her, to confirm she’s grinning, too.

She rolls her eyes, then that famillair, sweet smile overtakes her face as she flits her eyes all across the lean yet soft, pale yet golden, masculine yet boyish whole of him, -she finds him very good. “I reckon he knew what he was doin’,” she murmurs wryly, her stare dragging up his form, “I just object to the practicality of so few brains and so much—”

“Elaine!” he growls, gripping the back of her neck, “Kiss me, woman.”

She kisses him with the same gusto he’s previously seen her reserve only for football matches on the lawn. She catapults forward and it knocks the wind outta him, lands her solidly in his lap, a smooching, hair tugging goddess of a mad woman, and he scrambles to keep up, to assist the gearshift that just occurred. Zero to sixty it seems. Elaine can’t seem to hold still when she kisses, always leveraging up and wiggling around and it makes for two of them writhing, to the immense satisfaction of his cock that gets wedged between his belly and hers during this heavy make out.

Eventually she seems to notice -Elvis wonders what gave lil Elvis’ position away: the incessant twitching or the gallons of precum dribbling down the front of her gown.

She pulls away from the kiss and looks down, suddenly reaching and straightening his cock against her belly and through the haze of ball tingling appreciation for her touch he realizes she’s measuring the depth against her belly. That thought makes him spurt so violently he’s not sure if he’s cummin’ a lil or just, just gushin’ like he’s never seen himself gush before. Thank God this sweet little girl seems to like the fact he’s a messy, sensitive, uncut hick of a boy.

“We’ve just gotta try our best, hmm?” he stifles his anticipatory giggle at the size comparison to her abdomen and thumbs at her throat coaxingly, “I’ll try’n get it real deep, and you’ll be good and lemme, right?“

She will, for the babies, he already knows that. Knew it the minute she agreed to marry him. It’s why he wants her.

“Right.” she agrees and tries to not make it sound like she’s being condemned to torture, “I’ll be good for ya.” Be good and let him do what he needs to.

“And I’ll make it nice,” he swears adamantly and she nearly believes him, “It won’t hurt much, not at all after the first time, I’ll make sure you enjoy it, baby. Have ya begging for it in a few hours, you’ll see. It’s gonna be nice, remember?”

“Yeah.” Her tone is unsure but she waggles her eyebrows conspiratorially.

Then, before another promise can be made, she bends away from his lap and flops on her back, legs spread, baby blue silk riding up to show her wet curls, hands serenely crossed across her chest, face expectant. “Well, c’mon, gimme those babies.” she eggs him on, somehow keeping the wobble out of her thin voice.

“Elaine, honey, you’re shakin’,” he worries, noticing the visible battle in her body between desire and fear.

“I am a little chilly.” she replies very decorously, and with a liar liar pants on fire smile of assurance.

“Bullshit, you’re terrified,” he murmurs, petting her spread legs that are still partly in his lap, sliding his warm palms up her inner thighs and noting with satisfaction the way it makes her nipples pebble helplessly beneath the silk. She even rocks her hips towards his soothing attentions and that’s perfect, that’s how he’s gonna handle this, just soothe her into it, her entirely absent prudery a great aid. Although this next little detail he’s gonna teach her may push her to the limit.

“Now, ��fore I go in, there’s a great deal of prep’s gotta happen or else I’d not be a husband, just a mean bastard, you understand?” And he watches closely as Elaine’s chest heaves in relief that she’s got a little more time before the main event. Come to think of it, he should buy her more time, maybe a bath to get her all loosened up and pliant. “How bout we take a bath first, ya wanna take a bath, baby?” he suggests and knows that it was entirely too random a segue the minute it leaves his mouth.

“Not–not right now.” she whispers honestly, her hands still crossed across her breasts and she makes a motion that hikes the neckline a little higher, telling him all he needs to know about her shyness. He’ll let her leave the slip on for now, the fact her cunt is considered husbandly property but her breasts are sacred maidenly assets makes him feral with want. “I’d like to just get this over w- to, experience it,” she does a decent job at damage control of her initial sentiment but he figures it’s understandable to want it over and done with, like a procedure, like a tooth being pulled. “Honestly Elvis, I’m too nervous to enjoy anything till we do it,” she admits, no pretty turn of phrase, just that precious honesty he appreciates so much about her.

Boy does he have a surprise for her, then. He grins and he nods understandingly, “I getcha, baby, we don’t gotta do nothin you don’t want,” he swears, “Just gotta prep ya then we’ll get on with it. Hey, stop shruggin’, ya just might like it.” He pinches her thigh and it makes her giggle, she gives him another unconvinced shrug that he takes as a gauntlet thrown to turn her into a whimpering cock slut.

“I-I’m gonna pull this up a lil,” he narrates gently, figuring it might put her at ease as he matches his words with the action of rolling her hemline up to her ribs. Her soft belly caves in with the breath she’s holding and he lays his searing palm on it, coaxing her to settle for him.

She can feel his calluses and the grounding weight of his broad hand on her womb, and the rightness of it turns her body pliant. That dreamy submission he first coaxed from her to make her sleep after her mother’s funeral -she can feel it coming over her again and settles glady. He’s never steered her wrong yet, and he’s let her keep her breasts modest, a sweet concession she is eager to thank him for with obedient compliance. She focuses on his large hand and the way it’s now petting, no, more like digging gently, with his fingertips into her lower belly, little digs and pulls upwards over and over again. She can feel each tug downstairs in her little house, like his fingertips are tugging at her little button’s string from the outside in. Her head truly sinks back into the gold tufted comforter and she absently palms a heaving breast. This part of being married is lovely.

The awed look overtaking Elvis’ cherubic features as he stares down at the freshly undressed slit between her legs is reward enough for her. Life is suddenly dreamy and hazy, like she’s viewing his rich coloring and decadent face through a stocking over a lens, like the girls do to minimize their pores in photographs. He looks like that naturally, too rich and pretty and lovely to be true, now muddled and smeared from the feelings his hands excite, he looks otherworldly and she lets slip a moan of appreciation.

“You’re so pretty.” she babbles again, unsure if any of it actually made it out of her head. It seems very pressing to tell him, maybe in lieux of the “I love you” he’s dying to hear but made her swear she wouldn’t say till she meant it.

For Elvis, the entire picture of Elaine, melted ivory skin with a halo of chocolate curls and a wisp of sea foam silk covering what he’s dying to see -she is like an erotic painting brought to life just for him to lick and squeeze and split open on a sea of gold. He shudders and keeps his finger tips massaging her giving belly, this ole trick of Johnny’s obviously not half bad, judging by the way she goes boneless and her long legs begin to spread of their own accord, knees bending out and her pink petals beginning to make an obvious flutter beneath the curls.

“You recall what Dodger said.” he asks her very softly, mumbling it into the soft skin of her inner knee as he gets her used to the feeling of his lips creeping closer to the place he’s about to devour, “remember her sayin I was to lick you?” he prods, knowing that bringing up his grandmother is not ideal seconds before slurping at his wife’s beaver, but he guesses rightly that he might benefit from some moral backup for what he’s about to propose.

“Y-yes, yes before a pecker o-“ Elaine’s already a little incoherent as he permits his hand to stray from her belly and scratch amongst their curls, digging and tugging at her outer lips from afar, making them glide against each other in a soft stimulation, like a foreskin getting rubbed over the glans.

“Pecker’s jus’another word for key.” he whispers into the butter soft skin of her twitching thigh and her hips jerk from the tickle of his voice.

“Oh is it?” she manages to laugh, even as it’s a far away little sound, “dear Dodger.” is all she adds.

“So like she said,” he carefully moves himself to a crouch, taking care not to jostle her out of her docile trance, crouching like those mountain cats between her legs, he carefully replaces his hand with his cheek as he rubs his face against her belly -entirely cat like, “like she said I gotta lick ya. See, cause….’‘fore ya use a-a key in a new lock ya gotta grease, it, right?”

Elaine Presley is so bewildered and terribly hungry for something, anything, Elvis could suggest just about any sort of fuckery right now and she’d agree. As is, she thinks she’s read in the Bible about a man kissing his woman down there, a vague reference to pomegranates that King Solomon might’ve thought real slick, but wasn’t subtle. There was certainly more of an illusion made to it in the good book than anything about chubby snakes going up inside a girl. She has no qualms against it, also very few brains at her disposal right now it seems, and she finds it’s nice having one’s mind wiped blank after such a hectic two weeks of planning and organizing.

“S-so I’m gonna lick ya down there, a k-kiss sorta a-“ Elvis is explaining, unnecessarily thorough in a pained, urgent, desperate whisper that he uses when he wants a thing bad but he wants you to think you want it badder and she-

-Later on in life, later on the next day even, Elaine could never quite tell or explain where the urge or the bravery or the biblical amounts of entitlement to his services she suddenly felt in that moment. All either of them had was the memory of her fresh as a daisy self, steering her groom by his hair till he was face planted between her legs, doing his duty. Licking her open, pink tongue wriggling and lapping.

Terrified shitless that somehow, somehow he’d mess up the one thing he was certain he was remarkably good at, Elvis’s skilled tongue had bolted into her wet heat like a colt through the starting gate with a lot to prove. And he maintained that ferocious pace and fervor for a undocumented and unrecalled amount of time. He was not sure how he managed to breathe down there for the hour or more he spent sucking and licking and jabbing his tongue into Elaine’s long dreamed of cunt, living off fumes from the sweetest pussy he’d ever tasted, hair tugs of gratitude his only payment and the sounds of shock and awe spilling out of his new wife at every bout of pleasure he tore from her.

The sounds she was making -they were the same as when the two of them went down to the flower festival in New Orleans, while he was on set, where she’d gasped and cried and exclaimed joyously over five street blocks worth of Lilies and Dahlias and the stringy flower bushes Elvis’ didn’t retain the name of.

“So, so nice, oh, oh right there”. This frantically happy compliance, this unabashed enjoyment by a virgin girl smashing his face into her snatch -it was more than Elvis’ wildest, most self indulgent fantasies could have hoped for.

He had noticed in Elaine a peculiar sort of common sense that most people didn’t have in common. If a thing was not harmful or explicitly forbidden, she had no objection to it, in fact, she considered it free game. And bucking her hips up to meet his tongue and utilize his nose against her button -was obviously one of those non prohibited joys of life. And he set about to make it so addictive that she would be collaring him for a lick every day of her life for the rest of their days. His hands slowly gravitated up her belly, squeezing and appreciating the firm give of her sides and up to her breasts that she still guarded with panting lassitude. He didn’t know if he had snuck his hands under hers to knead the firm mounds or if she’d allowed him under of her own accord, and placed her hands atop his in blessing. But either way, he stayed bent like that, hands groping at her tits and jaw near unhinged to swallow her down, his own hips rutting into the mattress, the seams of the bedspread chafing his cock pleasurably.

“Can I have another?” she would ask eagerly after having shook apart and dribbled over his tongue for the tenth time.

Who was he to deny her?

He worked his fingers in gently, but after the amount of spit and slick they had produced together, it was a mere pinch for her when he snuck in first one long finger, then another. Careful to keep her revving, he dallied for a while with just the two, scissoring them and spitting inside the tight little hole until her objectioning mewls turned to breathy sighs again. Working in the confines of her wet heat near drove him mad, feeling how tight she was around just a few digits had his cock aching and groans of his own came pouring out of his mouth, buzzing her clit and causing her to writhe.

He took to curling his fingers inside her, her walls giving under more readily after his patient coaxing and he rubbed the calloused pads of his fingers up and curled untill he found a soft, giving little spot unlike its surroundings, spongey in a way he’d only ever heard about. Her reaction to his touch there was also something that had before only been mere hearsay from the boys on the road. Her hips leveraged off the bed like she was possessed, and through the smash of her thighs about his ears he heard her scream, and perverse determination was entirely to blame for the way he forced his fingers to keep curling as her little house clamped down around them and suddenly his head was being crushed like a melon between her legs and a jet of sweet, Elaine flavored goodness was spewing at his grinning face.

“Sweet Jesus would ya look at tha-“ Elvis heaved in a dozen breaths the minute her legs fell apart again, propping up on his forearms and watching his stunned wife tremble violently, her belly and thighs shaking like they were motorized, her pussy still gushing feebly and her hands patting herself down as if to make sure she was still all there. He’d only ever heard of squirting, and here he was now, half blinded by her spray.

The sight of the teary eyed, mortified yet pleasure dumb confusion clouding her exquisitely clever face had given him no other option. He had to have her, had possess her, had to take, had to fuckin’ take his due. Now.

She was in no position to deny him, shaking in pleasurable shock and splayed out boneless and unsuspecting. Through a tunnel of starry spots she saw his glistening wet face come in to view, hovering over her own, and felt the warm weight of his body settling over hers, famillair and steadying. She tried to raise her floppy hand to pet his rosy cheek, to somehow convey how lovely he made her feel, but her hand wouldn’t respond beyond flopping around a few inches from the mattress like a beached fish. She began to giggle and could not stop, thinking she should stop so he could kiss her: ya can’t kiss a giggling woman as her lips aren’t available when she’s giggling and he’s gonna kiss her —

—he didn’t kiss her, instead he had gripped her cheek and it steadied her enough for the giggles to die out almost as effectively as the sobering feel of a blunt, slippery, heated thing pushing at her entrance.

“No, no, no” Elaine’s mind whimpered in betrayed protest, “no, no it had been so lovely, it had been so lovely, it had been nice acting married.”

Tears that had gathered and spilled from the nerve wracking ecstasy he had forced out of her, now spilled afresh down her splotchy cheeks. Her dark eyes glittered like dazzling pools of hurt, her head tilted to the side in disagreement with his plan.

Of course, of course, she thought, there’s always something more to be asked of a woman, a banquet can be enjoyed but there are always dishes afterwards, you get your pretty breasts but you have to bleed every month for them, you can have your house licked to madness but it’s only so that a hungry boy can more easily split you apart.

No, no, why? it had been so lovely…

Elvis had of course thought about fucking Elaine Phipps until she cried, he sometimes dreamed about her thrashing from too much pleasure her eyes streaming tears and her mouth twisted as she tried to let him finish, as he made her enjoy it more than she thought she had the capacity to. He’d thought of it, but it wasn’t the same as trying to push into a hole belonging to a girl mindlessly whimpering “No, no” beneath you.

Having an innocence kink, Elvis was discovering, was a lot sexier in theory, before stupid feelings emerged and pesky consciences nagged and the shuddering terror of your wife beneath you was abundantly tangible. That was a fantasy best kept between himself and his fist, and rock hard as he was, and nearly unhinged from waiting, he just couldn’t manage to do it this way. That old insecurity, that burning awareness that he had always wanted her more than she had wanted him came crowding into his mind, making his own eyes burn in rejection and fear.

“Shhh, shhh baby, it’s alright’ sweetheart, hey, hey it’s me, me c’mon, look at me.” he had begged her, hands engulfing both sides of her face, “I’m sorry, Elaine, I’m sorry.” it spills out in cry of his own because he doesn’t know how else to admit his long harbored expectations of her, the carnal weight of what he has wanted all this time, and all the wasted years he’d never told her he worshiped the soundboard her yittle fingers so cleverly levered , “I’ve loved you ever since I came back and found ya grown. I’m sorry, I’ve -I-I’ve wanted to have ya for years. You’re the most perfect thing alive. I-I-I just gotta have ya, I just gotta. I-I’ll d-d-die if ya don’t want me, too, honest I’ll die.”

When she looked at him then, looked and truly saw the soul of him stamped on his face -suddenly she saw everything she once doubted existed. He loved her. Elvis loved her and she was at peace.

It was Elvis. Dear ole Elvis, the boy at the studio who liked her sandwiches, the boy who she could most likely find sitting on the couch with his mother talking about his day, the boy who brushed her hair out for her the day they buried mama. It was Elvis, who was gonna give her babies, who’s gonna make sure she never wants for a thing, who is never going to let her be lonely or purposeless again. Elvis who was the most beautiful, exquisitely potent man she’d ever known, laying on top of her, shaking in desire to be inside her. He wanted to be inside her, so badly in fact, that all his power and his verve and his pride were shaking and shuddering above her.

“Oh my darling, you made me feel lovely.” she whispered to him, wanting that said before he split her open and took away her innocence. “Your love makes me happy, so happy. How could I not want that?“

“You want it?” he begged against her lips, he begged to hear it again while grabbing his tip and smudging against her clit, making her jerk and bow up in his arms. A reminder of what he can do to her, what he can give her, why she should be obedient.

“Yes, yes I want it.“ she repented of thinking anything unkind about her husband’s cock that’s gonna water her garden and grow her a family, that’s going to pry her open so children can pass through.

“Alright, ok.” he gathered his wits one last time, terrified to think of how he’s gonna lose all grip on himself once inside her after expending so patience beforehand, “Here's what we’re gon- we’re gonna let you control it.''

His brain pumped out fragmented explanations but he managed to sit up and bring her with him, landing her in his threatening lap, his arms cradling her little self, and he scooted higher in the bed until he was sitting upright, the padded black headboard at his back.

“There, here… we’ll, we’ll get it in like this.” he took to referring to his own body like it was a stranger, heaving in ragged breaths like a snorting racehorse. “At’cher own pace, baby. Ya-ya can…ya can sit on it.” He was no longer bothering to make sense, and thank God she seemed to realize that.

Being naive did not mean she was a fool. The novel concept now explained it was abundantly obvious in mechanics. Elaine grasped the slippery length of him firmly again, relishing the aliveness of it, holding it as she had when measuring him against her tummy.

She bit her lip with savage determination. Babies, he’s gonna give her babies.

Her husband’s face was all lash fanned anticipation, his pouty mouth grimacing in barely contained fervor and his eyes crinkled in a wince of pleasure from her grip. She saw a single tear escape his thicket of lashes and run down his prominent cheekbone, headed towards his hairline. She swiped at it tenderly with a thumb and had her hand grasped by him in response, tremblingly guided to his shoulder.

Leverage, she realized, he was giving her leverage and she raised up with her thighs like she would in the saddle, felt his hand meet her own down there to line him up, the size of his head against her giving her a thrill of horrored excitement.

Gently hovering and squatting, she gentled the puffy, leaking head of him in. The burning little sting of it only served to confirm that Elaine was about to be split apart when the rest followed. Now nestled far enough to need no guide, he grabbed at her other hand and put it in place on his shoulder, their noses touching, their legs bent atop the each other’s, arms encircled -suddenly this embrace made it feel completely essential to Elaine that they be connected in that remaining way. As if he could feel her submit around his first inch, his eyes flew open and a hungry azure gaze burned her up as her hair curtained around their faces and—

“You were made for this.” he reminded her as she whimpered at another little bit of length inserted, “You w-w-were fashioned u-up i-in heaven f-for this m-moment.” and the young man who couldn’t be made to stop wiggling in a Church pew tried to hold still as his drippingly tight wife cringingly lowered herself more, “In the doll factory u-up above, h-he m-m-made this lil house to t-the direct d-demensions t-t-to squeeze me d-dry —oh fuck, baby c’mon! That’s it, m-more come on, take me. Take more of me!” he groaned, his head bowed and watching where he began to disappear inside of Elaine, the culmination of all his madness.

“God Elvis it’s-its already awful.” she admits, staring at the stupid black headboard and registering every pulsing inch and vein and ridge of his rock hard, half jammed penis inside her tiny canal. “I dunno if i can-“

“Aww no ya don’t! No -don’t ya dare.” his snarled and gripped her hips as she began to raise up and dismount -it was only going to make it worse to try again and he was gonna make her finish this for her own sake, “Good wives don’t get off their husband’s cock till he says so. We’re ruinin’ ya for anyone else, babydoll, course it's gonna hurt something awful first time. Gotta see it though, don’t ya lose our progress.”

He saw a vicious emotion flash across her face -and he recognized it. It was the one from the mirror before a show, that wretched look of ambition that keeps him from fleeing from a crowd when all he wants to do is hide and puke his nerves away. He barely had time to brace his back before she was impaling herself on him again with teeth gritted ferocity, seething in his ear something about how she’d rather get kicked by Trojan -her gorgeous quarter horse. It made Elvis think of horses and her thighs working in the saddle and horses and stallions and stallions mounting mares and fuckin ‘em full and he-

“You’re gonna, you’re gonna take me.” he declared inexorably as she whimpered, “You’re gonna do what God made ya for, you’re gonna take my cock.”

“I can’t.” she wasn’t even whining, she could just feel him hitting a barrier and she couldn’t take more. “Please E, be nice, I-I ca- it’s not gonna fit, E!”

“It will, you’re my wife, ya will. You’ll take it all.” he kissed her check while reminding her steadily.

Then he snapped his hips up to meet hers in a powerful pump that tore her right through. She landed flush in his lap, a gush of virgin blood pooling between them, full to the brim with his thick cock nestled inside. Not even a cry let past her lips, just open mouthed shock, as if he’d punched the scream right out of her diaphragm.

Holy shit, his mind supplied, she was the tightest, most spectacularly tight -tightly wet pretty- tight woman. His whole body shook in delight at the wet, moldable grip of her walls, and he held her closer, blessing her for being so perfect, mumbling in between her still clothed breasts that he was gonna ruin her cunt for any other fella.

Elaine recalls just trying to breathe, even while clutching at his shoulders and listening to the filth pour out of his panting mouth, filth that confirmed his confession that he’d had designs on her body long ago. It made her shiver, which rubbed him inside of her and she doubled over into his chest, whimpering at the fullness and the burning sting of her stretched entrance. A thought flashed across her mind that he was mean to make her take all of him, the tip would have done just as well, and now she feels like she’s impaled on a pipe and his hips won’t stop squirming to force it that much deeper. He sounded like he was enjoying himself, maybe even having a vision of heaven buried inside her, and in that alone she took joy and made herself disentangle from him enough to glance down at the marvelous union they’d made.

It made her gasp in awe. She had swallowed him whole with her own body, taken him down to the root, his sack warm and full beneath her petals, absorbed him till there was no longer a he and she in the bed, but merely them. The Presley’s.

“Lord almighty, you’re tighter than hell.” Elvis moaned in appreciation of the absolute restructuring of her privates that he’d just done, gripping her back with his sweaty hands and letting his eyes roll into his skull in ecstasy.

“Tight yes -great balls of fire E, it hurts like hell.” she reiterated, a little petulant over his enjoyment of her wounded kitty, but he could tell even now she was recovering from the initial tearing open. “It’s not, it’s not supposed to -I can’t believe it fit.”

Curious despite herself, Elaine snuck a hand between them and gingerly felt the stretched ring of her hole and the thick base of him where they were flush, dark curls meeting together. He put his hand on top of her own and encouraged her exploration, making her pet herself and making her squeeze him despite the pained whimper she let out each time her pleasure made her please him.

“Jus’ ruinin ya for anyone else.” he repeated and she shivered in his arms, flicking her eyes up to meet his and sensing a beastial sort of claiming in them she had never seen before, “My wife,” he gloried in the title as his hips began to gently rock her in his lap, making her mewl, “my pretty wife, my good wife, look at you takin’ every damn bit of my cock, look at ya makin yourself useful, pleasin your man, ya like pleasin me dontcha? I know ya do, I’ve felt ya shiver when I praised ya before, I feel ya watchin me to make sure I like a thing you do. I know you, ya might not love me but ya love to please me, I know what you want. You wanna please me, always have since I first saw ya. Ya know what pleases me baby?” he tilted her face to his by her chin, her cheeks wet with tears and her mouth panting as he ground inside her deep and hard as granite, ignoring her whimpers -only her eyes showed the wild revelry she was feeling at being spoken to like this, “Know what makes me happiest?”

“No sir.” she gasped, respectful and suddenly aware of how helpless she was in his lap as his huge hands engulfed her plush hips and made her to swivel and grind on him, the motion tugging her lil house apart even more.

“Pleasin’ God by pleasin myself by filling you up. That’s what. That’s what makes me happy” he stated, the look of girlish shock she showed at his language shooting straight to his cock and making him jab up into her body until she clung to his shoulders and wailed, painfully aroused by the concept and terribly hurt by the process.

“Please, please.” she sobbed into his neck as he gripped her ass and leveraged her up and down on his thick shaft, his groans mounting joyously and her body trembling at being used so presumptuously. It’s too much, he’s too much of a man and her womb aches from his thrusts.

“Please use me?” he grinned into her neck wildly, “That wha’ you’re tryin to say, lil one? can’t get it out with a cock in ya, can ya? So yittle I bet I’m clean up through to your throat, ain’t I? My poor lil wifey.”

It was his glutted acknowledgement of the fact he knew she felt like he was spearing her beyond her capacity, yet he wouldn’t stop, loved her too much to stop driving himself into her, making himself fit in her. He wanted to be a part of her so bad he’d grab her wrists and bruise her hip with his grip and snap his pelvis against her own ruthlessly -just so he could be close to her. Just so she would be his.

It had her moan again, this time from something besides pain.

“Elvis.” she moaned out, trying to tell him, to somehow alert him to the fact she was willing and good and could feel her body had begun to give into its natural purpose, she was slumping into his chest, and her pussy still burned and ached but had surrendered to the veiny little conquerer plundering her depths. “Elvis I-I- yes, yes, use me.” she managed and was given a proud and searing kiss in return for her submission. “You’re so pretty.” she said it like it was some dazed explanation for her obedience.

With Elaine’s pussy giving and wet from blood and slick, he knew he could begin in earnest now. So, gently, he tipped her backwards out of his lap again, laying her on the golden sheets and falling deeper inside her as he got back on top, never pulling out through the whole maneuver. Her eyes rolled back as she felt him lay atop her, buried to the hilt, her legs pushed apart to bracket his waist and allow him deeper. She threw her arms around his neck and breathed in like she was about to be dropped on a rollercoaster, some imminent adventure obviously looming as he buried himself deep and got a thorough grip on her shoulders before kissing her ardently.

It was when she was kissing him back and thinking how wonderfully sweet he was that she first felt those famous hips pull back, then drive himself inside of her with shocking precision. It made her cry out, and before she could suck in breath to replace her cry he was pulling out and pumping in again, little gusts of shock mined out of her at each powerful and measured pump and her back began to rub against the bedspread, her whole body seemed to shake from the force of absorbing his vigor.

“Thank me.” he required, aiming to find that spot that had made her spray his face, determined to wipe that pained grimace off her face and replace it with pleasure.

“Thank -thank you?” her tone was dazed and he wasn’t sure if her confusion stemmed from what she was supposed to be grateful for, or if she disagreed. She gripped the comforter, hands above her head and out to the side, absorbing the ripple he drove into her flesh.

“I've made ya a woman.” he reminded, proud and smug as only a 23 year old boy can be when tumbling his pretty young bride in the sheets beneath him, “So thank me.”

She pensively watched him as he swayed above her, blocking out the gaudy chandelier, his hair flopping into his eyes and moving with the cadence of his body, his body was unforgiving and driving into hers with a steady, slow beat, but his face was still desperately insecure, searching for approval and a hint that he was doing well. She loosened one hand from the counterpane and brought it to his cheek. He melted, a huffed out whimper of his own, in sharp contrast to the rigid power of his desire.

“Sweet man.” she whispered, “So good to me, always so good to me.” she assured, and he gave her a wet kiss full of wanting, letting her pet down his neck, over his back, stroking the swell of his flank, remembering the reaction it had elicited in him and figuring she’d thank him once he managed something worthy of it. Which he was very close to doing, she sensed, if he could relax himself. “Elvis,” she nuzzled his nose with hers, propping herself up on her forearms, to look down the length of her belly at the place where he speared her, “gimme those babies, and I’ll thank ya.”

Her daring grin had the intended effect, his nostrils flared as he heaved in a breath and his pupils blew wide, he pried her other hand from the bedding and interlaced it in his much larger one, pressing the knuckles to the mattress,

“I love you.” he swore before gripping her hip and tilting her pelvis off the bed, to the angle of his satisfaction before he drove his hips in with the purpose of finding that place that made her wild, the one his fingers had discovered and got her to spray for him.

He knew he’d brushed it when her face went from sweet compliance with the discomfort and placid curiosity for the proceedings to eyelash fluttering shock.

“E!” she gusted out urgently and a little unsure, unsure that this horrid taking of him could really be morphing into the spine tingling thrill she was now feeling each time he drove in, the tug and ache of his size still apparent but almost serving to heighten the aliveness of her feelings down there. “Right -right there it’s, it’s oh, it’s-“ she hadn’t a word for it, as the feeling was growing in strength and any moment there might be some shift that turned it back to pain, his speed was picking up and it scared her as much as it excited her. Like when he started speeding on the winding roads of North Carolina just to hear her shriek, conflicted between excitement and fear.

“Yeah?” he huffed, shining with sweat and heat above her, his hair darkened and his eyes darkened and his lips darkened and he- he looked so flushed and dark and decadent and she moaned at the sight of so beautiful a creature possessing her, pleasuring himself with her body, like any animal or male would do with a mate. He could have just hunted her down on a forest floor, chosen her for her scent alone, pinned her fist to the ground and her hips up to his pelvis and -it was that primal. She loved it. Like all the energy and raw potency of life he had in him when performing was now being driven into her aching belly. “Yeah? Yeah that’s where ya like it? Tell me how ya like it, jus’ tell me and I’ll do anything. Anyhtin’ for ya, Elaine. I done told ya, told ya I’d make it nice.”

Nice was a pathetic word for what he was making her feel and she found herself wishing she had an extra hand to stifle the sounds that began to wail out of her throat at his unforgiving depth. His own moans and breaths were shuttering across her face and the intimacy of what they were doing filled her with a serene joy she’d only felt on crisp, tea drinking early dawns in autumn. It made her squeeze him closer and she could just feel the comfort he took in it, his whole body melding to hers. Elvis’ slow and long pumps had her adjusting well and the unerring accuracy he maintained when noticing something she liked soon had her clenching from pleasure rather than pain.

“You’re in me.” she stated the obvious with a little shock in her voice, turned silly beneath him as he shuddered and pumped in her, “Oh god you’re in me, and, and it’s, it’s -you’re so good at this…”

There was a kind God above after all, and she let out a giggle at the joy of it, at the joy of taking Elvis Presley to the hilt like she’d been born to do. The pride on his face came through the feral pleasure painting it, his hands beginning to map her own body, feeling the jiggle and give of her as he fucked her up the length of the bed, shock coming across his own features as he registered something new that first made a flash of panic burn through him.

He was in her, entirely bareback. And, well, he knew that of course but suddenly, the mind bending intensity of sensations around his cock made sense. It was the first time he’d been inside a woman without a barrier, no condom to distract from her silky grip, his precum gushing and spluttering, slicking up the way for his cock to drive in, turning their love making into a lewd cacophony of sounds that made the man in him exult. It’s my wife, he reminds himself both jubilantly but also to keep the reflexive panic of going in raw at bay, it’s my wife and I need to give her babies. To keep her I gotta fill her up.

“Look at that perfect face.” he groaned aloud to himself, and he meant Elaine’s “taking-cock” face, which he had imagined a million times, but her open mouthed, eye fluttering, hands in hair image below him was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen in all his life, “Look at that perfect fuckin lil face.” he repeated as he forced himself in her all the way, bumping at her crevice and making her let out some form of sob.

“Y-you’re in deep enough?” she gasped out an inquiry, suddenly able to recall what this was all for, accepting of her purpose and close to feral in desire to accomplish it well.

“Ya can take more?” He asked, truly about to lose all grip on himself and wanting her blessing for it, “Gonna lemme get deep, baby? Make me a daddy, hmm? Gonna make me a daddy?”

He sped up with each sentence, her frantic nods and her “yes, yes Elvis, give me more, all of you!” spurring him on till he was driving into her and making those gorgeous breasts of her’s bounce wildly beneath her much abused silk nighty. “Get it deep, please, please get it deep.”

In theory he knew she wanted his swimmer's up past the cake she ate, his own perverted lesson suddenly coming back to bite him with a vengeance as her pleas sent him careening towards his own orgasm faster than he had any intention of blowing. But he was a man, and all his cock heard was “deeper.” And so he drove in deeper and harder.

“S’good.” she continued and her perfect diction was now slurred, her tongue heavy in her mouth and nothing but Elvis Elvis Elvis in her view and in her mind and in her body. “Gonna be good, it’s so good I-come on E, gimme those babies, please please, yes, you’re so good to me.” she was looking up at him in awe, her body spasming and shaking so hard he wasn’t sure if she was coming constantly or having one terribly intense build up. The sweet darling certainly had no clue, and that thought made him grip Elaine harder and he felt his mind grow hazy at her praise, “Elvis you’re, you’re so pretty like this!” she cried out, her neck strained as she clasped her hands around his face and stared deep into his eyes as he plowed her, those carmel colored eyes holding an intensity he’d never seen in a woman.

It shook him to the core and plunged him somewhere deep and subservient, the world felt like it was tilting and he was fading to a place where he was a pretty boy and a useful stud and he-

“Fuck! Elaine you-“ he wanted to tell her she couldn’t, she couldn’t say such things to him, it would turn him mindless, he knew the symptoms. He’d no longer be the strong husband she needed but her goddamn slave, a whimpering pathetic mess. He was going to come.

He pulled out abruptly, and as if his cock stuffing her pussy was filling the whole of her with strength, like a doll with batting. she deflated against the bed in confusion at the sudden halt and withdrawal.

“Baby?” she questioned him in a forlorn whimper, her entire consciousness begging for more as he patted her thighs soothingly and fought to grapple his sanity back in place. He couldn’t slip and turn ‘little’ tonight, he simply wasn’t able to do that to Elaine. He stared down at her freshly gaping little hole and swore he didn’t mean to be an ass, but he was just a man, and she was his wife to do with what he wanted. She wanted his babies, and she didn’t know better than to let him do whatever it took to give her that. And right now, he couldn’t handle the adoring looks and innocent dirty talk pouring out of the mouth of a virtuous girl he had long harbored such obscene intentions for. It turned him very desperate and perhaps a little mean.

“Forgive me, mama.” he muttered when leaning over Elaine and kissing her hard before he gripped his bride’s delicate waist and flipped her onto her knees. “It’s better for breeding this way.” he gritted out at her confused gasps, palming her ass where her slip had ridden up to expose her. He lined himself up with her pussy and watched with savage enjoyment as his girth slowly stretched her pretty pink rim beyond all seeming capacity and her following whimpers were music to his ears, her trill of confused enjoyment as he slid to the full, the cutest thing imaginable.

Immediately she missed the sweet intimacy of his embrace, the pleasurable sight of his face above her, also. And this angle, this method, it was deeper and tugged again at the petals of her house that had just gotten used to his usage. She thought to object, to tell him she didn’t like it this way -he had told her to tell him what she liked. She assumed, hoped, that stood for what she didn’t like, as well.

Elvis is a good boy, she heard her father say in her head, Elvis is a good boy -even as this good boy lined his inordinate organ up with her sore little place and thrust inside again. She was going to have to tell him she didn’t like it this way.

That is, until she lifted her head from the sheets he had tossed her in, belly first and face down, and noticed the mirror hanging opposite them. In it she saw a perfect view of her own face, a face she knew but hardly recognized, so…matured…was it in the gilt reflection. Her face was flushed and richly colored and her mouth gaping like one of those steamy movie posters where the woman has succumbed to the man’s embrace-and god knows whatever else it was the man was doing to her below the waist where the posters always seemed to cut off. The man was snapping his hips to push himself inside the woman, that’s what they were all doing. Now she knew, and she watched enthralled as Elvis mounted her from behind like a damn stallion, his broad hand gripping her shoulder and yanking her back against him as he snapped forward, the other fiddling under her hemline until he found her little button and began to play.

Nevermind, she thought, focusing on trying to breathe as he began to set a demanding pace again, pain and pleasure in this act equal parts for her as she propped up on her forearms and watched him watch what he was doing to her virgin hole, -nevermind he can keep at it, she decided.

His calloused fingers were petting and swirling and tugging so perfectly in her little nub in time with his strokes she began to happily anticipate the next thrust, rocking back on her own accord, feeling the bliss build again but this time stronger than what he had given her before with his mouth. In the mirror she could see how the strap of her slip had fallen off her shoulder and now lay partway down her arm, her gaping neckline now exposing a whole breast showing how it jiggled obscenely with each of his movements. It made her cheeks burn.

Elaine tried to right the strap but holding herself up with one arm made her nearly wobble face first into the sheets again and it made him lose his rhythm and suddenly it was entirely too good like that, face in the bed and hips propped up, and she needed that hand to stifle her shrieks of pleasure as he pounded into her without a hitch at the new position.

“Ya like it like that, hmm?“ he gritted out as she folded and screamed beneath him, speeding his fingers up on her clit as her thighs began to clamp shut. “God look at these hips, anythin’ but cradlin’ babies would be a goddamn waste of ‘em.” he squeezed at their plush width while yanking her back on him again and again.

“T-t-they’re gonna hear me.” she wailed once, and he realized she meant the guests downstairs, that once she realized that he wasn’t going to stop just because her pleasure had her in a place where she could no longer be in possession of herself, she had begun to fear for their reputation.

“Let ‘em.” he growled, taking his wet hand from between her thighs and running it up the length of her bowed spin, relishing the way she was drenching his thighs too, “They all know what I’m doin’ to ya. They knew what you were signin’ up for, even if you didn’t.” that thought made his balls tingle and he knew he close, that and the fact Elaine’s had her pretty little face barely propped up enough to watch them in mirror, watching as he plowed her from the back in tear stained, shocked, pleasured obedience to his wants, “Whole world’s gonna know what a good wifey you are, soon enough. They’re gonna see ya swellin and fillin out and they’re gonna know how good you are for me, how well ya take me, how much ya enjoy splittin’ yourself on my cock.”

“Oh God!” she screamed at the thought and at the thrill of his praise and buried her face into the golden bedding in abject submission and ecstasy, no longer able to compute the image of her dear, sweet Elvis mounting her body and snarling in pleasure in the mirror as he used her to chase his relief.

Elaine, to his lust clouded mind, had the prettiest ass on earth and it filled his hands perfectly, and her overstimulated shrieks and mewls and squeals sounded every damn bit like a Disney Princess. And somehow, that thought really did it for him.

Elvis hadn’t given it a lot of thought before, mind ya, hadnt spent time contemplating what it would be like to make Snow White touch her toes while getting skewered or how it would be to push Cinderella’s sweet face into the sheets. But he was pretty sure that if one of those doll-like little ladies had ever been made to take cock after true love's kiss, they’d sound rather like the squeaking little thing writhing beneath him right now.

He jabbed harder just for the fun of that, just for the enjoyment of the fact he was balls deep in a virgin cunt about to blow his load inside a woman for the first time ever. His jabs and swivels and fucks made she squeal more, clinging to the foot of the bed, no rich alto moan left in her with every inch he made her take.

She sounds like Tinkerbell, if Tinkerbell ever had the sweet misfortune to be loved on by Elvis Presley. He grins at the mirror, grins at the bowed figure of his little wife, gives a passing prayer of thanks for this perfect woman he is gonna spend the rest of his life loving in this way.

Take this, Tinkerbell, he thinks excitedly, ramming home once more and feeling himself drain inside her at last in long, pulsing, gushing spurts.

She knew that feeling, she realized in a daze. Yes she had felt it just this night when they were writhing against each other but -this hot gizer of warmth shooting inside her… the porch swing. He had wasted his seed in his pants on the porch swing. He wasted so much wanting her without telling her, it makes her heart ache for him. She spreads her trembling legs apart and tries to wiggle him in deeper, pushing back onto his key as he shudders to a halt, trying to be of help for him, to get it where it needs to go. No more waste. No more pining. It makes him sob and groan as she milks him, her sweet boy returning as he drapes over her back, a boneless weight before gently rolling onto his back and taking her with him, still impaled. A stopper of sorts, to keep it from leaking, from wasting.

There is not a single part of her body that does not tremble, nor of his either, they cling to each other, fully equal in post-coital vulnerability now and try to remember what world they belong in. His hands cradle her lower belly, pressing her close to him and swiping his thumbs along her spine, just as she pets over his arm and nuzzles into the hollow below his throat. She’s so touchy, caressing him and squeezing him like she needs the contact as badly as he does, and it’s exactly what he always wanted, hoped, didn’t dare ask heaven for but he’s got it. She’s here, she’s his.

“You’re my wife.” he marvels, and he is referring twofold to the act that just made her so and he means it wondrously by the way she lov- cares- for him so well. “You make me so happy.” he says against her lips.

“Thank you.” she whispers, cracking open her eyes to see him soft and gentle right there beside her, “For choosing me.”

“Didn’t have a choice.” he croaks, “Never has been a choice with you, I had to have ya, was more your choice than it ever was mine to lemme be yours.”

“You are mine now, aren’t ya.” she muses and he sees the way that thought sparks some life back into her heavy lidded eyes.

It’s good to belong to someone, he thinks, comforted as he brings his mouth down to hers. “Yeah, always, always gonna be yours.”

He kisses her long and slow and she returns it, her body sated beneath his caresses in a way his masculine, virulent one could never be when laying beside her, buried inside her still, newly laying claim. It is a gentle rocking when he begins again, quite helplessly, to move inside her, and she is so busy tugging at his cropped hair and nipping at his lips that she doesn’t seem to notice that they’re swaying vertically until he draws her leg over his hip and begins to drive up again in earnest, her moans a sweet melody she pours into his mouth. It’s quiet this second time and unrushed, and she has grown used to the ache, he thinks he should tell her soon to use the restroom, but he’ll have to take his fill again first.

He wonders when he’ll find the time to tell her to go between telling her he loves her. She asks him if they can do this often.

“Bout as often as we can manage.” Tumbled out of his lips happily.

“And how often’s that?” she urged him breathily, her eyes losing focus they were so close to his own.

“Enough times to lose count, Laney.” he promised, “Gotta fill ya up, best we can. Gotta be diligent.”

There was no soaring crescendo to this session, he merely clutched at her harder on one lazy upstroke, her fingernail had caught his nipple and zapped him straight to heaven like a thunderbolt to the frenulum. And then she felt him spilling inside again. Warm and hot and soothing the battering of her walls. His fingers took hers and pulled them down between her legs to pet the damage again, smearing him around like ointment on a wound. They had acted married twice now, she figured. They’d done marriage twice. The second she had liked even better than the first as he held her all the while, even though no searing height had happened to her.

“When you were with other girls,” she whispered into his chest later as they dozed between bouts of kissing and cuddling, “this isn’t -you didn’t…” she faltered for a moment before lifting her face to gaze down at him with warmth and gentle pleading, “-you didn’t do this with them, did you? You don’t act married with them, right?”

Perhaps most men would have chosen to lie. Elvis had no need despite his experience and his reputation. He had, a dozen or a hundred times, wrapped himself in latex and put it in a dozen or hundred women, some he cared for genuinely and some who were life preservers in a sea of lonely travels, but he’d never acted married. He’d never done this sort of intimacy before. He figured he was practically a virgin too, in that sorta way. In making love with the intention to bind himself, trap himself forever to one single soul. It ought to have been terrifying, that commitment, but feeling himself drip out of Elaine into the cradle of his hips he just felt right, like he was home. Like he’d just given himself to someone who actually wanted him. “No honey, I didn’t act married with any of ‘em. You’re the only one who gets my seed. I swear, really I do, now or ever.”

She could tell he meant that promise, and now he’d taught her how to express herself in this new language, she thanked him the only way she knew how, by gleefully rolling atop him again. It was a language she realized she was seeking most of her life, ever since anger and joy and want had flared in her and had been summarily instructed to be curtailed.

Propriety. Mildness. Rise above it all. She was good at the art of it all, and had been praised for it. Yet here was a man who coaxed vehemence out of her, taught her to inflict it on his body, who found pleasure in this grappling, wrestling, messy way that made such sense to her now she had found it.

I could love you, I’m going to love you, I’m very much in danger of loving you, was said with each swivel of her hips and lick of her tongue down his neck. “Oh Elvis.” sounded sweetly in his ear as he bounced her like a doll in his lap and made her fall apart.

Elvis had kissed her temple as he panted his breath back in again. Kept himself plugged in as long as possible till he shrank to nothing and slipped out. His destructive cock a now harmless, wet little thing that she cooed at in a most embarrassing way for him, but he was too happy with her laying on his chest to protest the curious fondling she gave his sensitive cock.

“This new house by Fort Hood, the one that agents of your’s got us,” he had murmured huskily while swigging from the chilled bottles of water retrieved from the mini fridge -with Elaine riding on his back to the closet and then the bed again, refusing to be apart, “it’s got a split layout, ya see. Top and bottom floor’s got a kitchenette, might not be the easiest for cookin’ but it’ll give us -space.” he assured, and she bit her lip imagining what he’d want the privacy for. “Wouldn’t ya rather a lil privacy ‘stead of a big ole countertop? I-I-if not I-I can-“

“Sounds perfect.” she sighed dreamily, thinking about making him meals and him coming home to eat them, gallant and lean in his pressed uniform. “You’re real handsome in your uniform, ya know that?” she figured it didn’t hurt to admit it, her man seemed to thrive off compliments from her, and he never did seem to get a big head from them. Except for the other little head that twitched and swelled at any compliment at all.

It was getting late, or early more like, and as she felt his interest grow yet again, Elaine played at denial. A silly, jokingly, little sort of thing where she wriggled away from his grabby hands and tried to make it out of the bed -headed to god knows where, the champagne bottle or the record player or downstairs, she didn’t know as she had no real intention of fleeing. But being seized from the back by her husband and playfully thrown back on his bed, made to sprawl out on the corner of the mattress , her legs hanging apart and her pathetic little slip still hanging onto her modesty for dear life, it was rather thrilling the way he had muttered,

“Oh no ya don’t, good lil wives don’t run.” and put himself back into her overused body, relishing her moan at his first thrust in and the fucked out compliance of the grinning girl beneath him. “I wanna see my pretty wife’s tits,” he asked as he watched them bouncing and jiggling with each absorbed fuck, “C’mon baby, be good and lemme see those pretty pillas of mine, you won’t deny me will ya? Come on, baby, so pretty, so round, gonna make ‘em blow up soon enough, whole world’ll notice ‘em. I wanna be the first to see ‘em before it. Up we go, lemme, come on yittle one, thas it, lift it up.”

He watched as this woman of his who was currently impaled on his cock blushed and smiled and bashfully pulled up her slip till her buttermilk soft mounds were bare, pink nipples pebbled and a scared, hopeful look on her face as her slip bunched at her clavicle.

“Goddamn, I’m a lucky man.” he had groaned and not missed her relieved smile. Then playfully flicked the slip up and over to hide her bright red face before folding himself enough to suck on a rosy little nipple while pistoning in and out. Soft, pliable flesh giving beneath the weight of his jaw and the nudge of his nose.

It was bizarre to Elaine, her sight obscured by the slip, her breathing hampered by the same, sound and feeling her chief senses this time. Just the sounds of him enjoying himself alone had a warm feeling curling in her chest and her belly, too, his hums and groans sending delightful zaps through her previously respectfully ignored nipples. His hands running up and down her ribcage, sometimes seizing her waist to pull her on him, sometimes fluttering over her diaphragm to feel himself moving within, nearly up her lungs he felt.

She felt as if she had finally been given privacy in which to truly feel and enjoy this, veiled by her own last shred of modesty, she let herself feel -and what she felt was astounding. She felt cherished. And she felt ravaged. And as if no one was here or anywhere on this earth to judge the way she screamed in delight, she yelled it and heard him answer her:

“that’s it, lemme hear ya” his teeth snapping at her nipples as he talked around them with his movements causing him to miss, sparking a fresh wave of noise to humidify the satin covering her face,

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

She chanted in happy panic as her legs drew up on their own, up and up and trying to close against the delicious onslaught, only to realize too late that it made the fit even tighter, the friction even stronger, the glint in her husband’s eyes wilder. He pinned them to her chest, with a single hand, to keep them out of the way. Slapped at her clit instead, made her scream in a way he didn’t think she was capable. Thought about doing it twenty years from now, thought about how he’d have the rest of his life to make his Tinkerbell scream. He slapped her there again and this time no scream, just a hissed in breath that had no exhale, her whole body clamping up in rigid ecstasy, tightening so strongly he couldn’t even keep his thrusts going to help her through.

Almost alarmed by her lack of breathing, he thought to pull at her slip, up and over her head till her face was visible again -she looked as if she were in some great agony, and his smug heart flipped at the sight, before leaning down to kiss her.

He was all chestnut hair aglow, wicked dark eyes and sweet lips, hovering down into her hazy view and her body wasn’t her own anymore, the damage had been done and the cliff she was teetering on gave way beneath her sanity when his lips met hers, his warm chest rubbing against her spit chilled nipples. For the second time that night she sprayed him, and through the eye rolling, rapturous tingle of it she heard him asking if she was “coming.”

“Oh goddamn, goddamn look a’that, oh fuck me sideways that’s hot as hell.” he blabbered, pulling out just long enough to wiggle his cockhead against her petals and force another jet out, coating his own abs with it, relishing the way her belly shook and her legs clamped together straight in the air, her hands clawing at the slip like she was trying to fight her way out. “Sweet Jesus you’re so sensitive.” he praised, pushing back in despite her hiss, and the way her feet tried to plant themselves on his shoulders to push him away. “Gotta lemme back in darlin’, I got another deposit to make.” he joked, loving the way she was clawing and wiggling away from him on pure, over fucked insinct, red painted nails dug deep enough to rip into the gold bedding. “Come on, be good, be good for me, lemme in baby, lemme in , doin’ so good, so good I know you’re so damn full, just a lil more, lil more. Don’t want any to go to waste do ya?”

He was wicked for using those magic words to make the shaking girl open up and let him in again, but he made up for it by the kisses, he felt, and in praise, and promising her if she stayed good she’d have those babies. Careening headlong towards another orgasm of his own with the sounds she was making and the lewd squelch of how wet she was down there, downright squelching with all his contributions and her own slick, he swore she was everything he’d ever dreamed of. She smiled at that.

“I’m gonna come.” he promised her almost in a beg, pleading for her to understand why he sped up and started to pound her again in earnest, erratic thrusts.

“W-whats coming?” she whined, her eyes screwed shut and her thighs shivering beneath his shoulders, “Y-you’re already here…”

The more he drained his balls, the more his mind seemed to leave him as well, all catered sentences and prim vocabulary gone straight out the window with his last shred of self restraint. “This-is-comin-“ he punctuated as he drove himself in, then felt his balls draw up and try to offer up residual bits of spunk but nothing seemed to come out. Served him right how white hot and painful it felt, sputtering dry inside her. He hoped she didn’t notice the deposit was a blank check. Also hoped she didn’t hear the pathetic whimper he’d let out as lil Elvis heaved his last attempt at it. By the way she was humming and petting at his hair, cradling him gently as he sagged atop her on the corner of the bed -he was afraid she’d heard and felt it all.

“Why’s it called that?” she whispered in his ear, and he wondered that she had any energy at all.

He burrowed his face deeper into her neck and mumbled, “Damned if I know, darlin.” he thought on it a little while longer while also thinking of the drip, drip, drip of their mess melting between them, “Unless it’s cause it makes ya feel like you’re havin a ‘come to God moment’, ya know?” he suggested and laughed when he felt her poking his cheek. “Do ya- do ya like it when…when ya-“ he couldn’t manage it now in the gentle afterglow, starting to get a chill after all his sweaty exertion cooled and left behind clammy skin and pooled secretions, feeling how naked and soft and lonely he was suddenly upon feeling sated for the first time tonight.

“Can we really do this as often as we want?” she asked instead, and her tone held no dread in it, only hopeful excitement. Suddenly the lonesomeness was gone again.

He felt her hands stroking his back and down to his ass again and he had giggled happily, not able to hold back his relief. “Yes, darlin.”

“Gosh.” she mused, petting him still, “To think I-I didn’t know about this and now it’s…” he propped up his chin on his hands to give her an inquiring look, begging her to finish, “it’s all I wanna do now.”

“That so?” he quirked his eyebrow and she flushed and began to shake her head, her tone pleading:

“Oh, not now, not right now -oh, please, please E, I’ll die if ya do, give me a minute.” she laughed and kissed him again.

“We should sleep.” he mused, half asleep already, pillowed on her boobs, his legs still technically still standing him upright as his upper body lay across the bed, across his new wife. “And bathe.” he realized.

“It’s very sloppy.” she agreed, and the thought of how uncomfortable she must be, stuffed with a half a dozen or more cum shots roused him to action.

He picked Elaine up bridal style and carried his now gloriously naked woman into the en-suite bathroom, seating her on the chilled marble countertop and grinning at the way she melted, spineless and used against the mirror, a soft smile lighting her dear face.

She liked watching his long lean, boyish figure, hard in some places and soft in others, strangely inviting in its combinations, ripple and flex as he bent and turned on the tub faucets, snagging gold embossed towels off the rack.

E.P. they read, gold thread glowing on the black cotton.

E.P.

For the both of them. It could be for either of them, it probably had been in his mind when he’d had them made, stocked his home full of monogrammed luxuries with her future initials on them E.P. --and all the while she had been fretting of dying a loveless old maid.

She laughed happily and found she couldn’t stop, catching sight of his embossed robe, hung on the door with the same initials. E.P. She was wanted, she was so very wanted here with him. It made her slide her jellied legs off the counter and hug him ferociously from behind, pressing kisses into his spine, and the freckles that smattered his shoulder blades.

“E.P.” she whispered and he got what she meant, turning round and grinning at her.

Once in the bath she dozed in his arms, near suffocated by bubbles and relishing his embrace, the warm water and his massaging hands soothing the ache between her legs.

“We haven’t washed the babies out have we?” she asked, groggily staring into the receding bath water as he tenderly toweled her off once stepping out of the tub. “I-I-I want those babies.“ she insisted and it must’ve been the lateness of the hour or the sheer amount of muchness she had been subjected to tonight but her lip started to wobble at the idea she’d carelessly risked her hopes down the drain, swirling away with the last of the bubbles. “Elvis I-I- didn’t mean to rinse them out!” she wailed, near hysterical with fatigue.

He tried assuring her but she wasn’t easily pacified. “I-I could give ya more.” he finally offered timidly, entirely uncertain either of them were capable of enduring another round.

He was toweling off her calves as he said it, pressing kisses to her knees and noticing the tremors in her thighs. To his shock she dropped to her knees beside him on the bathmat, eyes half mast and nearly insane looking in their fatigued determination,

“Please, please give it another try.” she nodded before spinning around on the bathmat, shakily swift and presenting him with her shapely ass.

‘Better for breeding this way’, came back to mind. God she was a quick study, and he prayed for strength and some shred of self restraint in indulging her. Instead, he found himself burying his face between her cheeks and licking at her devotedly, afraid they may have washed her slick away and worrying the burn of entry would be too much for her, fresh out of the tub and swollen from overuse as she was. No woman had let him do it this way, his face near buried in her bath warmed ass and his tongue kitten licking at her slick hole, but Elaine bore it with decorous appreciation, entirely unaware of being anything but eager in her responses, her spine arched and a rosy cheek pillowed on her forearms. Her yittle hand came down to pet Elvis’ diligent head as he worked between her legs.

“That’s it, I love it, E, like that, I love it when you…” she was mumbling in a slurred litany of praise he gobbled up ravenously, just like he did the shuddering little trickles of sweetness he coaxed out of her. “I’m -I’m, yeah yeah-“ he felt her grind down on his face as she shook again, and then it was as if the top half of her body nearly melted into the mat, just his hands keeping her ass in the air. “Please put it in.” she whispered, her hand still down there between her legs and reaching for something else of his now, her tone so soft and polite, like Cinderella asking for cock.

He aimed his cock into her waiting hand and watched with barely suppressed desire as her palm rolled over the rip and her nails gently raked across his veins as she moved to grip him and point him where she wanted him. There was a lewd sucking noise this time when he went in, like her body was finally trying to swallow him willingly, and he saw her head toss on the mat, dainty fingers woven into gold shag and her neck craned back to see him as he pressed in deep. Her face was flushed deep red and the makeup had worn off and she looked so innocent, so young beneath him, a single curl plastered dark and wet against her cheek from the bath. He’d unmade her, turned her back to her simplest form. He snapped his hips, lost his mind, noticed happily how her hand went to her hip and joined his there. He held onto it like a handle and jerked her back on him again and again, her cheek rubbing against the mat and her teeth sinking into her other fist to hush her cries. Those cries of hers, maybe something was very sick inside him that he liked them so much but he did, he did and he worked hard to draw more from her just as he dreamed of this, dreamed of her fluttering pink hole trying to take more and her eyes rolling back from the fatigue of it, her body unable to deny him.

“My poor belly,” he thought he heard her whimper, yet unsure he reached down and pulled her fist away from her mouth, it pushed him deeper in, bent her more starkly, speared her cervix, “Oh god, my belly, my poor belly.” she kept saying for sure this time.

“You alright, Lany?” he draped over her and brushed the damp strands off her face, her face that was red and splotchy from sensation and blood flow. She gave him a whimpering nod.

“You’resodeep” she accused him even as he felt her squeeze and shake around his girth, her mouth gaping for a brief moment at the unexpected little pleasure. “My poor belly.” she said it over and over again and he couldn’t stop. It was more just a bewildered mantra to comfort herself, as her mind betrayed her and wanted him but her body was so well used that was she was just…taking it

“You poor little thing,” he cooed, making sure to move slow and deep in a way that had them both shaking and stepping into madness, bent all over her bent frame himself, “you’re takin’ my cock so well, so obedient, never was a more righteous wife, never was, you’re a goddamn wonder, that’s what you are. I’ll thank God for ya every day.”

His praise always soothed her and he kept it up, not even sure what he was saying anymore as he chased his own release, focused on the bent little thing beneath him and the way it made her waist look minuscule in this position, her pink face, too. At one point he saw tears instead of bath splash on her face and as he felt himself begin to spurt he shushed her the best he could with the first thing that came to mind:

“Don’t cry Tink, please don’t cry.”

The nickname tickled her consciousness like a feather on the neck, some goosey thrill that tickled up her spine and added to the satisfied throb between her legs as he splashed hot and thick inside her.

“Tink?” she thought she had asked him, bewildered and charmed to have been christened. Maybe her words got lost in the bath mat.

He did not answer her, must’ve not heard her at all, but picked her up with his own shaking arms and like a couple of bambi's they toddled into the massive bed, throwing themselves under the covers quite unceremoniously. He tried to swat at the lamp as if that would turn it off, and realizing she was the more capable of the two -he seemed almost insensibley drained by that last encounter- she leaned over his chest and pulled at the lamp string, dousing the glow that surrounded them, only to realize dawn was splashing a violet haze through the crack of the window curtains.

“Good morning, Mrs. Presley.” he had teased softly, noticing the dawn too, his head tilted on the pillow to watch her shut off the lamp.

“Good morning, husband.” she murmured, wriggling on top of him as he held her fast, arms locked over her back and her head pillowed on his chest.

This cuddling was familiar, this drowsy holding of each other until he stilled and fell asleep, an art she had perfected since his mama died. But now she was the woman in his life, and strangely now that the hunger had been glutted and abated, they entwined around each other like babes or twins in a womb, this naked closeness the most natural of assurance in the world. Something Elvis had been missing since his brother had left him, since Jesse entered the world before him and chose not to stay and endure it with him, fell into place.

My sister! My spouse! -King Solomon had called his lover, and Elvis had felt that supremely odd when snooping through the Song of Songs as a boy. But now he knew -too many roles did she fill to be confined to one, and Elvis felt tempted as Elaine fell asleep atop him to whisper, “my brother, my spouse!” into her hair.

Sometime later, when deep unconscious, dreamless sleep had possessed them and held them fast, but not a long enough time for Elvis to be remotely cheerful about it, a obnoxious clanging sound broke in on their peaceful repose. Elaine jerked awake atop him with a startled little squeak and he put his hand to the back of her head to shush her, encouraging her to lay her cheek back on his shoulder. The noise resounded again and this time he was lucid enough to determine it was coming from outside the bedroom door.

Clang-a-lang-a-lang-clang-a-lang

Elaine huffed and rubbed her tired face into his chest, his sparse hairs there tickling her nose and making her sneeze. That made him laugh and with neither able to keep up the pretense of sleep, they raised their heads and looked towards the door with matching, raised and unimpressed eyebrows of displeasure.

“If this is the boys idea of a practical joke,” he growled with sleepy morning grit in his voice, “they won’t be boys much longer.”

“Will ya put them in boxes and give them to me?” she inquired and he realized with a self satisfied smirk that her melodic voice had gone hoarse from all the screaming he’d made her do the night before.

“Heavens Mrs. Presley,” he marveled, “ya sure have gotten comfy askin’ for things -I like it.”

“I could think of a thing or two I want right now.” she bit her lip and her eyes slanted hungrily and some scared part of him that worried she wouldn’t want this as much as he did got buried teen feet below the earth, locked away forever.

“Breakfast?” he acted dumb even as she propped herself up on his chest and gingerly tried rolling her hips along his thickening shaft, hissing at the soreness of her own petals.

The sheets falling away from her and pooling round her hips like some goddess that had condescended to come down to earth and make use of her spied after Adonis, Elaine was ethereal and happy and Elvis sank his head back into the pillow and watched her, wishing to pinch himself but the roll of his foreskin against her bud told him it was real. “Breakfast and water, breath mints and fresh air-“ she listed while speeding up and causing his cock to begin to weep and slick her way along-

Clang-a-lang-a-lang-clang-a-lang

“What?” he yelled fearsomely at the door and she shivered in spooked delight at his temper.

“I’m comin’ in wi’ breakfast,” came Mary’s unmistakable drawl through the door and to his horror he watched the gilt knob begin to turn, “y’all’s best disentangle yo’selves cause I done waited till two in the afternoon to feed yous, and I ain’t taking chances for waitin’ any longer-“ Mary stepped into the room about at the same second Elaine accomplished a dismount and roll that the would have made the marine corps proud, diving beneath the covers, only a bride sized lump to be seen by the cook as she came in with a heavy laden tray, her ingenious cowbell left behind in the hall. “Lawd Mr. Elvis, you’re wearing that loved on look just nicely, if you’ll lemme say so.” she admired his marital blush and scratched shoulders as only a proud auntie could, “Miss Elaine, you best come outta ‘der, I got bagels and cream cheese, jus’ as you like.”

“Oh Mary, you didn’t!” Came Elaine’s moan of appreciation beneath the bedding and it was altogether too close to his pelvis for Elvis’ sanity, “You’re much too good to us, you know that?” Elaine wriggled till just her head peeked out and bestowed on Mary a smile of such adoration the lady forgot the ache in her arms from carrying the tray upstairs.

“Yeas, well, wouldn't do to have y’all’s dying of malnourishment.” she huffed bashfully patting Elvis’ beet red cheeks while unconsciously setting the trey in his stiff lap.

He groaned. In appreciation for the eggs and burnt bacon, Elaine had to presume.

“Don’t you take your fill again till you’ve taken your fill, you get what I mean?” she wagged her fingers at them, first at Elvis, then at his bride as if she was second guessing who here was the more likely instigator, the groom seemingly meek and the bride grinning altogether too widely than was proper. Delighted, Mary couldn’t help her matching one, “Eat up.” She nodded, backing away while eying them suspiciously, as if at any minute they might overturn her carefully prepared victuals and begin to maul eachother anew.

“Wouldn’t think of letting it get cold!” Elvis assured her adamantly and to prove his point, stuck a bagel into his bride's mouth before getting into the eggs himself.

Satisfied, Mary left them and shut the door. They heard when she picked up her cowbell and the retreating sound of her footsteps down the hall assured Elvis it was safe. He moved the platter off his lap as if it were scorching him, flinging the offending sheets off his erection and patting his thighs, jerking his chin at a wide eyed Elaine.

“I’m a very talented man, I’ll have ya know,” he told her as she settled in his lap, his chest pressed to her back, “I can feed and fill ya at the same time.”

“So,” she began genially as she wiggled him in and got comfy, sucking cream cheese off his fingers and taking advantage of his compromised blood flow, “Is Tinkerbell gonna my nickname?”

Elvis choked on his bacon, and proceeded to cough into a pillow case. “I’ve no idea what you're on about.” he denied.

“Hey,” she grinned at him without wavering, “if you can enjoy splitting me in half, I can enjoy a nickname that outs ya for bein’ a lil nasty about it, hmm?” and she chucked his chin.

She -she had a point, Elvis supposed. “Sure, Tink, whatever you say, Tink.” he droned.

Masterlist

Taglist

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@whatstruthgottadowithit

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

#elvis fanfiction #sarge and lil mama #elvis x you #elvis movie #elvis fanfic #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #austin butler elvis #austin elvis imagine #austin elvis fandom #austin elvis smut #elvis smut #elvis x oc #elvis x elaine #elvis one shot

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katthyacinth · 2 months

Text

Networking In Hell

Vees and A Celeb Reader✨

Change is uncomfortable and hard, maybe that's why people gravitate to what they know, what's familiar. Maybe that's how you found yourself standing in front of a huge building with a neon sign with three Vs on it. It reminded you of the HQ of your recording label, the thought makes you chuckle slightly.

You had concluded the person you were looking for was named Velvet, she seemed to be some social media/ PR bigshot, like the biggest of bigshots.

You had nothing but hopes and dreams to go off on, for what reason would she give you a meeting? You were betting that for some reason (not to sound conceited or entitled) she would know about you since apparently, everyone knew about you and your spouse's demise. Taking a deep breath and walking through the fancy glass doors you're greeted with another aquatic demon at the front desk.

"Hi, I- I'm trying to get a meeting with Miss Velvet. Um I don't have an appointment or anything but um well I just got here and-"

The demon looks you up and down for a second and then their eyes go wide. "You're the siren! the one all over sinstagram! The one who killed their husband! I- Miss Velvets' schedule is very busy but I- You can- I can try and get you a meeting" You're very taken aback again, you thought that hell would be nothing like up above, and maybe for once you wouldn't be recognized everywhere you went, but as you finding out not much is different from up above.

"Miss Velvet's main office Is on the fourth floor if you want to wait up there I'll find- someone to talk to you, Siren!" The demon clambors reaching for the phone. You nod heading towards the elevator. As the door closes you catch the phone conversation.

"No it's them definitely, the Siren from the news, I mean they don't seem that dangerous, no I mean- I KNOW they're going up now-"

When the elevator opens you take a second to get your bearings, the building is big and you weren't given specific directions.

Luckily or unluckily shouts can be heard from down the hall.

"Well, he's up there waiting for a flat-faced prince to calm him down' a woman's voice angrily shouts.

You walk closer and see a tall man silhouette standing by a door at the end of the hall.

"and what's got him in a sorts this time" a man's voice sighs annoyed.

You walk closer almost directly behind the man in the doorway who you now see has a TV for a head, the more the day goes on the more unfazed you are by people's appearances.

"I don't know but he tore up my best model and you know the show can't wait for that-" she cuts herself off looking past the man spotting you in the door. " I don't have time for your crap intern unless you're here to fix my show for me figure out the issue yourself!" she yells.

"No, actually I'm not an intern I-" you stumble but she cuts you off even more angrily. both of them are now staring you down.

"Well then I double don't care who you are get out of my studio! What are you one of Val's bitches? I really have had enough of-" she cuts herself off again, looking you up and down more carefully.

"You're that Siren bitch. From Sinstagram the popstar who drowned their husband" she pauses looking at your phone and back up at you. You assume she pulled up some news from earlier today when you died.

"That's who you were talking about this morning? Hell gave you one ironic form, didn't it. I mean a hot one but ironic nonetheless. You did say drowning right?" the man mumbles to himself looking you up and down. Velvet ignores him.

"Well I take everything back maybe you are fixing my show... Have you ever walked a runway?"

You're In.

Pt 2 . . . pt 4

#vox x reader #gn reader #the vees #hazbin hotel #vox my beloved #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox

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mygoldtears · 1 month

Text

🌕 Part 1 🌑

(It’s here!)

youtube

♫At the end of the rainbow, there's happiness♫

A soft voice can be heard. Her voice was full of pain and heartache.

A human silhouette of a human falling from the sky as a rainbow bursts upwards through the clouds.

♫And to find it, how often I've tried♫

A silhouette of a young princess is seen with two other silhouettes before her, one small one tall turning around as they disappear, another shadow towering over her, appearing again from earlier but it was the tall one with long horns, both pointing at something behind her.

♫But my life is a race, just a wild goose chase♫

Where the figures were pointing, which shows Hell being circled by Angels.

♫And my dreams have all been denied/Why have I always been a failure?♫

the shadow looms over the sad princess being disappointed in her as demonic arms and tentacles cover them.

♫What can the reason be?♫

♫I wonder if the world's to blame♫

As the Earth rotates many eyes begin to surround it.

♫I wonder if it could be me♫

Silhouettes of Angles are seen smiling deviously “X’ over their right eyes as they look down upon the souls they have exterminated. The one at the center of the bodies of demons their faces begins to flicker. appears the same devilish grin and “X” over her right eye.

As the world around them fade appears a new place with nothing but bloodshed all around, graffiti, and signs that say "Fuck You, Heaven", "Punishment" and "Your Days Are Numbered" can be seen throughout

This place is HELL.

♫I'm always chasing rainbows Watching clouds drifting by♫

On top of all this, we see a hotel, where we see the Princess of Hell Charlotte Morningstar, or Charlie as she likes to be called. to walk towards the balcony doors with a saddened look.

♫My schemes are just like all my dreams

Ending in the sky♫

Charlie heads towards the hotel's balcony as she releases fireworks that signal to the rest of Hell that the Extermination has ended.

♫ Some fellows look and find the sunshine. ♫

The remaining demons who survived the extermination are seen checking the area to see if the coast is clear.

♫ I always look and find the rain. ♫

a tall and slender, light gray-skinned demon. She sports white ankle-length hair with bangs and black streaks, usually formed in large horns by black thin ribbons. white ballerina shoes open the blinds to the room, revealing the fireworks display. She is now alone and we see three more demons, one of them being the King of Hell himself hiding in the shadows sitting on a chair, present in the same room with her.

♫ Some fellows make a winning sometime. ♫

We next see a Porn Studios with flashing lights, owned by the V’s. Velvette a trendsetter takes a selfie with Vox who is annoyed, and then Valentino a moth demon who smiles quickly leaves his face when he sees that he got a text from one of his employees.

♫ I never even make a gain. / Believe me. ♫ Charlie sings looking at her home.

Two girl demons are seen pulling out an angelic spear from a corpse and leaving as the cannibals waiting nearby pounce on her dead body. A woman is seen crossing out Franklin's name from the sign above their business with black paint, With a smile.

♫ I'm always chasing rainbows. ♫

A demon is seen cleaning up what's been left of the Extermination as other demons begin to walk freely about in the open as if nothing happened.

Charlie is in tears as her song comes to an end.

♫ Waiting to find a little bluebird... in vain. ♫

Charlie looks back at the Clock Tower with tears. as it resets the timer for the next yearly cleanse.

.🌒🌕🌘.

A new sinner is seen screaming, fallen into Hell, and transformed into a demon. He falls face-first onto the road, surprised and hand pats himself with all four of his arms. to see if he is still “alive”.

Four-armed Demon “I'm alive! I'm alive-“

He gets run over by a car driven at full speed and stops the front door open. A pink spider demon is seen getting out of the car fixing his clothes and hair.

The driver snickers “Heh. Thanks for the fun time, hot stuff!”

The spider demon pushes his hands through his hair “Yeah, yeah, listen. while” *Fixes his hair more* Keep this discreet, you hear me? I can't let it get out. I'm offering my services to randos on the street! It was a quick cash grab *he makes a cash-like gesture with his fingers and snaps his fingers at him, smiling*. Ya got it?”

“Pfft! Whatever you say, slut!” the demon laughed

The spider demon pretends to be offended “Ouch! Ooh!” turns back to face him with a smile “Such an insult! Let me know when you've come up with something creative to call me” looms over demon and points at him with all his index fingers, “you sack of poorly packaged horse shit!” He gets close to the demon's face who was a bit dumbfounded at the pornstar “Tell the missus I said "hi"” kisses him, and waving goodbye “Shnookums!”

The demon embarrassed and a bit grumpy mumbling under his breath “Pack a - puh…” angrily drives off, the spider demon is unamused before looking behind him to see a vending machine full of drugs instead of drunks.

He goes for the one called Angel Dust just as he is about to open it, a random feathered demon runs by snatching the drugs out of his hands..

“Hey!” Yelled the spider demon. “Up yours drag sh-“

Splat!

A boulder falls out of the sky, crushing the feathered demon instantly. the pink spider gasped.

“Oh, my GOD!”

He leans in to pick up his pack of drugs from the demon's hand as it twitches. with a devastated look on the pink spider's face “MY DRUGS!” he yelled before clenching the bag angrily “Damn it!”

He looks up to see where the boulder comes from. He found what looked like a warship passing by, destroying everything in its path.

.🌒🌕🌘.

inside a warship, revealing a demon snake and his egg henchmen who are marked by numbers on their backs, running around while their boss is laughing maniacally.

operating the controls to the ship “Those other cowardly sinners dare not hinder my territorial take over! A wise decision! The power of my machines are unmatched!” pushing two levers, his hood(or hair?) flares open like a cobra. “No other demon can compare to the likes of I!”

Egg Boi #23: Gee! That was pretty swell, boss!

Egg Boi #666: Yeah!

Another chipped in “You showed them what for! I liked when you” the egg mimicked the action of a shooting ray gun with its finger and thumb “shot them with your ray gun!” Annoyed, the snake demon slapped the poor thing.

Egg Boi #23: I wish he'd shoot me with his ray gun...

Their boss rolled his eyes before continuing what he was doing and the hood flared open. “At this rate, I will seize control of the entire west side of The Pentagram by day's end” pushes a few buttons “And nothing!” he pulls down levers towards him “Not a single beast in this inferno of suffering will be able to take back this empire from” grabbing an Egg Boi with his tail squeeze them “my constrictive grasp!”

Suddenly an Egg Boi pops out of nowhere, pops open a bottle of whiskey onto Serpent's face who proceeds to swat said Egg Boi aside before throwing the squeezed Egg Boi aside as well.

Random Egg Boi: Oh, boy!

“Hell will be mine! And everybody will know the name of Sir Penti-“

“EDGELORD!”

Sir Pentious is interrupted by a scream. Sir Pent and Egg Boiz become surprised.

“Pardon!?” offended by this he looks around angrily before his gaze on the two Egg Boiz behind him “Who said that?! What did you just say to me, you fried chicken fetuses?! He said with a hiss “Speak up!”

The Two Egg Boiz petrified. “That wasn't us, Mr. Bossman.”

Something breaks through the glass of Sir Pent's ship. A small bomb with a print of a skull on it then lands right between Sir Pent and the two Egg Boiz. realizing what it was, The bomb proceeded to blow up, leaving red smoke behind.

Sir Pent coughs and hacks

The smoke begins to clear up, revealing a slender yet curvy-figured, tattooed sleeve, white-skinned cyclops-like demon as she prepares another bomb in hand to throw.

“You lookin' for a fight, old man?!”

She yelled as she began to juggle around her cherry bomb ”Why don't you get that tinker toy bullshit off my turf before smash it?!” throwing it up and catching the bomb.

A large pipe falls on top of an Egg Boi, crushing him as Sir Pent and Cherri momentarily look at the carnage. Before returning to their interaction the Cyclops demon grins sadistically and continues her sentence “More..”

“Oh!” the sir pent hood flares open as his smile comes back on his face. “You wanna go, missy?! Well, I'm happy to oblige! Ahahah!”

He is then backed up by his henchmen of Egg Boiz. with weapons in hand

.🌒🌕🌘.

The logo for 666 News is shown on a black background, which is followed by the day's newscast. Showing us two anchors, a male and a female, About to introduce themselves

“Good afternoon, I'm Katie Killjoy.”

She is a tall, slim, pale-skinned demon. She has short, light blonde hair that flares into an almost fan-like shape, swept to the side bangs. She has rose-red eyes with small, white pupils. Her neck is long, mirroring her thin torso. Wearing a concise red dress.

“And I'm Tom Trench”

Tom's head is composed of a gas mask, which is his entire face to his neck, and has a sweep of ashy blonde hair and is wearing a gray suit.

An image of the snake demon trying to look cool, followed by a drawing of the Cyclops demon who is flipping off the camera.

“Chaos out at Pentagram City today as a turf war is raging on the west side!”

Tom said before continuing.

“Between notable kingpin, Sir Pentious, and self-proclaimed spunky powerhouse, Cherri Bomb!”

Katie Killjoy backs him up “That's right, Tom! After the recent Extermination, many areas are now up for grabs!” making a grabbing hand motion.

A live clip of Cherri and Sir Pentious's clash is shown.

“Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory!” she said

“Those two seem to be really going at it, huh?” said Tom

“Looks like they're fighting tooth and nail,” she said while fishing out a tooth and a nail respectively from her mug of coffee “For that hot spot!” she proceeded to swallow said tooth and nail.

Tom who is looking over at the live broadcast focusing more on Cherri “And I'd sure like to nail her hot spot!” wiggles his eyebrows “Hoohoo!”

Katie Killjoy laughs “You are a limp-dick jackass, Tom! Or should I say” pouring scalding hot coffee onto his crotch “No dick?”

Tom curls in pain saying not again.

The screen shows a picture of Charlie as Tom can still be heard whimpering in pain in the background. And Katie Killjoy smiling like nothing happened while continuing the new cast

“Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of Hell's head honcho who's here to discuss her brand new passion project! All that and more, after the break!” crushes her mug in her hand and turns to Tom who's still in pain, poor guy “ Suck it up, you little bi-!”

The newscast goes on a commercial break.

Out from a nearby screen, focusing on Charlie and her girlfriend as she fixes Charlie's bow. Her girlfriend exhaled “Okay! You remember what to say?” she said Charlie inhaled “Yes! Let's do this!

“Just, look at me and I'll mouth it to you.”

“Ugh! Come on, Vaggie!” Charlie bends backward “Know what to say! I just feel like we need to...I don't know,” grabs a donut before gasping “Make things sound more exciting! Hooo! What if I sin-”

“Sing a song about it?” Vaggie said cutting her girlfriend off. Charlie boops her nose “You knew I was gonna say that” Vaggie smiles fixing Charlie's bow again before saying “Because I know you, But please don't sing. This is serious”

“Well, you know, I'm better at expressing myself and my goals through song!” said Charlie as she stood on the table where Razzle and Dazzle were happily munching on doughnuts, watching her.

Vaggie places hands on hips “But, life isn't a musical, hon.”

Charlie sighs “Fine. But, I have these other ideas of what to say!” she starts bouncing a bit as she shows Vaggie a piece of paper “The highlighted bits are the best part!”

“Uh, it's all highlighted”. Vaggie squints realizing something “Is this a drawing?” looking back at Charlie.

“Yes! That's the happy ending, see?!” Charile begins to fantasize about it “Everyone smiling and happy in Heaven!”

Vaggie pinches the bridge of her nose “I don't think it's that simple. Just please follow the talking points we went over. And” she grabs Charlie by her cheeks to face her “Do not sing!”

Charlie sadly agrees “Okay, fine. I'll just have to resort to my impeccable improv skills! She said in a British voice before saluting at Vaggie as she walked over to Katie Killjoy.

Charlie nervously introduced herself “Hi! I'm Charlie.” with her hand out going for a handshake

Katie Killjoy unamused “Katie Killjoy.” she said exhaling the smoke of her cigarette before crushing it. “I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but that would be a lie.” she throws away her cigarette “You can put that away.” gestures to Charlie's hand “I don't touch the gays. I have standards!” she says with disgust.

“Yeah? How's uh... how's that working out for ya?” Charlie says turning to look around her nervously.

“Look, my time is money. So, I'll keep this short.” Katie says proceeds to poke Charlie “You're not here because we wanted you here. You're here because Jeffrey couldn't make it for his cannibal cooking segment.” A billboard of Jeffrey's cannibalism cooking show titled "It's Dahm Good!" can be seen behind Katie.

Katie Killjoy fluffs her hair “You might be some royal big shot, but that doesn't mean shit to me. I'm too rich and too influential” Tom can be seen shaking his head in disapproval as Katie boasts about her wealth and influence to Charlie “to give a flying fuck about some tux-wearing demon. "Princess" wants to advertise.” she does air quotes with her fingers

‘But, I-” Katie Killjoy get close to Charlie's face cutting her “So, don't get cute with me, honey, or I will fucking bury you!”

News Staff: And we're live!

in the blink of an eye, Katie Killjoy is back in her seat at the desk, holding papers while snapping her neck. “Welcome back! So, Charlotte!” Charlie smiles nervously as a spotlight flashes her way. “It's... Charlie.”

“Whatever. Tell us about this new passion project you've been insistently pestering our news station about!” she said as she tried to hold in her outburst by clenching her pen

Charlie looked around and saw Vaggie motion her to go on she cleared her throat “Well, as most of you know, I was born here in Hell, and growing up, I always tried to see the good in everyone around me.”

Killjoy was rolling her eyes in boredom before she spotted a slug and stabs it with her pen, the slug's blood bursts all over. Some got on Charlie. “Hell is my home and we just went through another Extermination.” Charlie then wipes off the blood on her cheek “You are my people.’

“We lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year. No one is even given a chance!” she slams her fist on the table, waking up Katie Killjoy mediately, and walks away from the desk “I can't stand by while the place I live is subjected to such violence!”So, I've been thinking”

putting her finger under her chin as she walks around the audience “Isn't there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell?” looking at everyone in the room. “Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through... redemption?” throws her arm around one of the News Cast's staff members with a smile forming on her face.” Well, I think yes! So, that's what this project aims to achieve!” walking back to the desk “Ladies and gentlemen, I'm opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!”

Silence in the room you can hear a pin drop.

.🌒🌕🌘.

Outside of the broadcast, we see The Radio Shack, which many other demons are seen watching by the streets and everywhere else in Hell who don't look amused in the slightest

Charlie's confidence begins to fall slowly on TV “Y'know? 'Cause hotels are for people passin' through... temporarily…”

A Lizard Demon laughs at this “Is this girl for real?! She thinks-” he tries to hold in his laugh but fails “You hear what she thinks?! She thinks- HAHA! Ah, she's nuts,” he walks out of The Kaiju Klub with his friends while you can hear charlie speaking in the background “I think it'll serve a purpose... a place to work toward redemption... yay...!”

Back to the demons watching her broadcast from The Radio Shack. A mysterious red figure walks up to see her broadcast alongside a bunch of other demons watching.

.🌒🌕🌘.

Cameraman snickers at this calling Charlie a Stupid bitch. Vaggie who happens to be beside the Cameraman, punches the cameraman square in the face for calling her girlfriend that. Charlie looks around, saddened because no one seems interested in such a thing. “Look, every single one of you has something good, deep down inside. I know you do!” Charlie thinks for a moment before finally coming up with a solution “...Maybe I'm not getting through to you.” she said sitting on the table

Razzle and Dazzle alerted that Charlie was about to do

Vaggie facepalms

Charlie snaps her fingers as the room turns dark then a spotlight is shown over a piano out of nowhere that Charlie, Razzle, and Dazzle made appear

youtube

Top Hat Demon: Wow! ...That was shit!

Everyone in the audience including Killjoy and Trench begins to laugh at Charlie. Charlie looked crushed and devastated and slumped back down to her seat. There was a boo section in the news and the demons look uninterested

“Boo..”

Katie Killjoy began to speak while laughing. “What in the Nine Circles makes you think a single denizen of Hell would give two shits about becoming a better person?! You have no proof that this little experiment even works! Do you want people to be good?! Just... because?!” She burst out laughing.

Charlie glares at her, “Well, we have a patron already, who believes in our cause and he's shown incredible progress!”

Katie Killjoy in feigns shock glances at her “Oh? And who might that be?”

Charlie tries to look smug and confident while looking at her nails “Oh, just someone named... Angel Dust!”

This grabbed Tom Trench's attention “ The porn star?”

Katie Killjoy turns to him menacingly her nails scratching the table “You fucking would, Tom!” She turned back to Charlie “In any case, that's not even an accomplishment. I'm sure you could get that hooker to do anything with enough booger sugar and lube” she said, making motions of a handjob.

“Oh, I beg to differ! She gets close to Katie Killjoy's face “He's been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for two weeks now.”

News Staff offscreen: Breaking News!

Katie Killjoy grins and shoves Charlie off her desk. while smiling “We are receiving word that a new player has entered the ongoing turf war! Let's go to the live feed.

The live feed shows Angel Dust stepping on an Egg Boi and throwing a grenade over at Sir Pentious with visible laughter in the background as Charlie stares at the screen in shock.

“Oh…shit.”

Angel Dust is in the background saying “I'm a bad person!”

Katie Killjoy beings to smile even wider "Oh, shit" indeed! It looks like the one who just joined the battle is none other than” she feigns a gasp a hand in front of her mouth “porn actor, Angel Dust! What a juicy coincidence! You must feel really stupid, right now.” turns to Charlie as she shakes her fist, Killjoy and Trench proceed to laugh at Charlie.”Ratings!” They said in sync doing Jazz hands

Charlie stares at the live feed in distress and attempts to block it from the audience's view.“Don't look at this!”

Katie Killjoy looms over her Well, it sure looks like your little project is dead on arrival. Charlie slowly turns around “Tell us, how does it feel to be a total failure?” everyone except Vaggie starts bursting into laughter

Charlie tries to think of a comeback “Yeah, well…” looks around and spots a pen “How does it feel that I got your pen, huh?!” grabs Killjoy's ballpen “Bitch!”

Everybody instantly stops laughing while Katie Killjoy's death stare, Charlie realized she fucked up and nervously laughed “Oops” and puts the pen back down.

Tom Trench runs off-set.

Killjoy's demonic form reveals itself as she looms over Charlie, Growling.

.🌒🌕🌘.

Purplish red smoke transitions into Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb fighting Egg Boiz.

“Hey!, thanks for the backup, Angie!”

Angel Dust laughs, Cherri Bomb fires a rocket launcher.

“You kiddin'? This is the best action I've seen in ages!” puts his hands behind his head all the other extra limbs hold his gun.

Cherri launched another cherry bomb “Where've you been, anyway? I thought you up and died or some shit!”

Angel Dust lit a bomb and handed it to her rolling his eyes “Oh, I wish! I've been staying at this crappy hotel on the other side of town. Some broads are lettin' me stay rent-free if I play nice.”

They both cover their heads as the explosion sets off behind them, then grin at each other as they jump into the field. Angel Dust Continues to shoot down Egg Boiz with what seems to be a drum mag M1928 Thompson “Y'know, no fights, no pranks, no "problematic language"... Her words, not mine.”, launching an Egg Boi airborne and shooting him from behind a bit of yoke splattered on him, he sighs again “These crazy bitches are no fun! I've been clean for two weeks!”

Cherri Bomb was in disbelief “Holy shit”

Looks at the leftover smudge on his finger while giving a smug look “Well, sorta clean.” destroys an incoming Egg Boi “Just clean as you can get from a shitload of Bolivian marching powder!” Sir Pentious shows up behind Angle, throws the end of a chain, wraps around the angle swiftly, and gets thrown aside by Sir Pentious.

throws his head “Ohh~ Harder, daddy!”

Sir Pentious, taking it seriously, gasps. ”Son?!”

Angle raises a brow at this, and Cherri kicks Sir Pentious to the side. And lands beside Angle.

Sir Pentious annoyed and angry, his hood (hair?) flares open “You whores have no classes! In war, The side remembered is the side with the most style!” He hissed while adjusting his tie.

“Or the side that ain't dead” Cherri Bomb replied while decapitating an Egg Boi with her bare hands

Angel Dust stood up and removed the chains restricting him before saying “Speaking of style, is your hat like, alive or something?” Makes a magical gesture with his four limbs.

“Oh! Well, that's none of your GODDAMN BUSINESS! Now, is it?” Sir Pentious hissed.

“Hah!, would that make your hat the top and you the bottom?”

An Egg Boi: Oooooh!

gets a pebble thrown at him by Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious now enraged hissed. “I'm going to blow you to bits!”

Angel Dust eyes him up and down like what he heard “Hm, kinky”

Sir Pentious: Oh, not like that Pervert!” knocks over an Egg Boi, hood flares open again.

Angel notices an Egg Boi with a tentacle launcher which causes him to push Cherri to the side. While taking the hit and getting tangled up in all the tentacles.

“Not so cocky now, are we?!

unamused by this “Y'know, you really gotta watch what comes outta ya mouth. I've been making these sex jokes the whole” limbs get pulled on as Sir Pentious reveals a drill which jump starts “TIME!” reveals his third pair of arms carrying a gun “And it's obvious ya ain't catchin' on. I mean, it's just sad!” pulls out M1928 and shoots it at Sir Pentious*

Cherri Bomb appears at his side “So, think you're gonna get in a lotta trouble for this?” Angel Dust retracts his third set of arms “Eh, what's one little brawl gonna cause?”

.🌒🌕🌘.

We then see Charlie and Killjoy trying to duke it out on each other like it's some sort of WWE match while a fire alarm goes off in the background with Trench running around, engulfed in flames, yelling “ WHY WON'T ANYONE HELP ME?!”

Back at the turf war

Cherri Bomb slugs him on the arm “Glad you haven't changed!”

“You know you're my favorite guy to party with!”

Angel Dust grins “You know it, sugar tits!”

Cherri Bomb takes out one of her bombs facing him “You ready to finish this?”

Angel Dust grins while taking out his Thompson gun “Born ready, baby!”

Angel and Cherri pounce on Sir Pentious and his army as they prepare to clash, Charlie and Killjoy are still at each other's throats screaming, and Trench is still on fire, screaming in agony. The camera shows all the characters present, screaming as the scene turns silent.

.🌒🌕🌘.

The royal family limousine can be seen driving back to the hotel. Charlie is hugging her knees and looking out the window. Her jacket is ruined after Katie Killjoy and her fight, while Vaggie sits next to her, glaring furiously at Angel Dust. Who is at the end of the limo Charlie sighs and glances at her girlfriend Vaggie, whose eye twitches at Angel Dust, who can be seen amusing himself by playing with the car window roller repeatedly.

Vaggie scrunches up her face, Angel Dust stops what he is doing glancing up and making eye contact “What?”

Vaggie in disbelief at his response "What?, WHAT?!, What were you DOING?! rips off a fist full of her hair of

“I owed my girl buddy a solid! Isn't that a "redeeming quality? Helping friends with stuff?” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Not with turf wars that result in territorial genocide!”

Angel Dust shrugs “Eh, you win some, you lose a few hundred.” He laughs then proceeds to play with the car window button “It wasn't that bad, anyway.” Vaggie throws a knife at the window button missing his finger by a few inches, startling him.

“Aw, come on! I had to, My credibility was on the line! I mean, what kind of reputation would I have if people found out I was tryna go clean? It just throws out my entire persona!”

brushes his hair, and suggestively pushes up his chest floof.

Vaggie did not like his response “Your credibility? What about the hotel's?!” She made a gesture “Your little stunt made us look like a fucking joke!”

Angel Dust scoffs “No, no, no, babe. The jokes are funny! I made you look... uh, sad! He lays on his stomach while kicking his legs a bit. “And pathetic! Like an orphan... with no arms... or legs... Oh! With progeria”

Charlie covers herself with her long blonde hair as Angel tries to make this situation better but fails miserably “Great! Now I'm bummed thinkin' about it!” Throws his arms in the air before starting to look around the limousine “This thing has any liquor?”

“Can you please just try to take this seriously?” Vaggie said almost in a begging tone

Angel Dust is still trying to find liquor but only found a dust bunny. He flicks it off his finger “Fine, I'll try. Just don't get your taco in a twist, baby!” snaps his finger at her while smiling” Vaggie glares at him.

“Was that you trying to be sexist or racist?”

Angel Dust groans “Whatever pisses you off more. Is there seriously no liquor in here!”

Vaggie returns to sit next to Charlie, and crosses her arms her eyes never living Angel Dust “I'm gonna kill 'im”

“Too late, toots. Wait! Would that make me double-dead? Hah, and where exactly do I go? To Double Hell? Hahahahahahahaha! Sorry, you're stuck with me, bitch - get used to it” he folds all his arms confidently.

angrily Vaggie grits her teeth ``¡Con una mierda, malparido hijo de-!” (For fuck's sake, you bastard son of-!)

“Listen, who cares if some jack-offs got hurt? Most of 'em are ugly freaks. Look around!” He looks out the limousine window, smirking “You got a bunch a fuckin' Harlequin babies down here!” He laughed at his insult.

Vaggie mumbled under her breath “You're one to talk.”

Feeling attacked by that Angel Dust looks back at her. Making her smile smugly “Hey!” Angel Dust motions to his body “This body is flawless! Everyone wants summa me,” pushes up chest fluff and takes out a letter. “and I've got the creepy fan letters to prove it!”

Takes a letter from in between his floof and reveals it to Vaggie It features a small picture of a dirty naked old man, who ironically has a "No Angel Dust'' tattoo, smothering his mouth on an Angel Dust body pillow and a message at the bottom saying "Show me your feet!! -Brynin, #1 Fan/Critic".

Vaggie growls, Charlie being silent for a while decided to speak up about his behavior “That was uncool, y'know, Angel.”

Vaggie looks at her with a surprised expression "Uncool?!, After that train wreck, there is no way anyone is gonna wanna stay at the hotel!” looks toward Angel Dust and points at him “All thanks to you and your selfish bullshit!”

“Does that mean I don't have a free room anymore?” Vaggie motions to him What do you think?"

Angel Dust snaps his fingers “Ah...well, shucks”

” Hey, come on.” Charlie removes the ruined jacket “We don't know if things are over yet! Try to relax, Vaggie.” she puts a hand on Vaggie's left shoulder “I-it'll be okay!”

Vaggie smiled softly at Charlie; her words made her feel a bit better.

They finally arrive at the Happy Hotel, Charlie opens the hotel door, revealing a very old and dirty establishment. The first thing that Vaggie does, is throw herself on the couch, facing the wall “ Ugh, Angel Dust rummages through the fridge leaning by the wall and grabbing a box of Popsies that was the only thing in there, he grabs one and puts in his mouth, and closing the fridge. “Eh, it's probably a good idea to get some actual food in this place. Y'know, to feed all the wayward souls you got in here” he laughs a bit trying to lighten up the mood, but it doesn't work he tries to comfort Charlie reaching out his hand but decides to back off.

Charlie exits the hotel and tries to contact her mother. It goes to voice mail. “Hey, Mom. I know I keep calling and you must be busy... Busy... But, um, the interview didn't go well,” she shrinks to her knees, her back against the front door “and... I don't know if I'm ever going to make a difference” tearing up as she wipes it off her face. “I don't know what I'm doing. I could use some advice, Mom. I... I think Dad was right about me... Ahah, oof. Eh, anyway…” wipes her face once more “I'll stop talking before this gets long.” before standing back up “Love you, bye…”

Charlie walks back in and leans by the door in defeat as a sudden knock can be heard from the other side of the door, surprising Charlie, she turns around to face the double doors. she contemplates whether or not to open the door but decides to open it anyway. Behind the door was the mysterious figure watching her performance from before, standing before her, and Charlie, knowing who he was, reacted with extreme shock.

“Hel-”

gets the door slammed in front of him, Charlie looks to the side for a brief moment before opening the door again, making sure she was not imagining.

“-lo!”

She slams the door in front of his face once more calling out her girlfriend's name “Hey, Vaggie?”

Vaggie, tired and annoyed about today, replied “What?”

Charlie mimicked the Deer demon's smile “The Radio Demon is at the door!”

Vaggie sits up instantly, eyes wide immediately. “What?!”

Angel Dust, who heard the commotion takes out the popsicle from his mouth “Uh... who?”

“What should I do?!” said Charlie putting both hands on her face

“Uh, well- Don't let him in!”

Charlie decides for a moment on Vaggie's advice, she decides to once more and opens the door for The Radio Demon

“May I speak now?”

Charlie puts on a brave face “You may…”

The Radio Demon reaches his hand out “Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart!” he exclaimed pulling Charlie towards him “Quite a pleasure!” lets himself in (wow ok) “Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco on a picture show, and I just couldn't resist! What a performance! Why, I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929! Hahahahaha,” plays with his mic staff and turns his dead to face charlie “ sooo many orphans”

Vaggie holds a harpoon towards his chest making him stop walking for a moment. “Stop right there, cabrón hijo de perra (bastard son of a bitch)! I know your game and I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone here-” Angel's head pops in, unamused “-you pompous cheesy talk show shitlord!”

Alastor not scared in the slightest moves the harpoon away “ Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here-” his pupils turned to dials and his smiled turned wicked “-I would've done so already.”

Charlie and Vaggie gaze at him a bit perturbed as the distortion ends.

“No! I'm here because I want to help!” Alastor said making Charlie and Vaggie raise a brow

“Say what, now?”

Alastor repeats himself “Help! Hahaha, hello? Is this thing on?” taps on his mic “Testing, testing!

Alastor's Mic opens its eye “Well, I heard you loud and clear!”

Charlie was slightly confused as to why he of all wanted to help “Um, you want to help? With...?” she trails off, Alastor teleports behind the two with his shadow “This ridiculous thing you're trying to do! This hotel! I want to help you run it.”

Charlie was confused and curious “But... why?” she questioned.

Alastor laughed, “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer, absolute boredom! I've lacked inspiration for decades. My work became mundane, lacking focus,” shoves Vaggie away from him “Aimless! I've come to crave a new form of entertainment! Hahaha!”

“Does getting into a fistfight with a reporter count as entertainment...?”

“Hahaha! It's the purest kind, my dear: Reality! True passion! After all, the world's a stage, and the stage is a world of entertainment.” he said tilting his head to the side while smiling. (creep)

“So, does this mean you think it's possible to rehabilitate a demon?” Charlie said, smiling a bit that maybe someone finally believed in her.

Alastor laughed while shaking his hand in front of her “ Of course not! That's wacky nonsense!” shakes head back and forth “-Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! No, no, no, no. I don't think there's anything left that could save such loathsome sinners!” looks over to Vaggie who is offended and Angel who just shrugs “The chance given was the life they lived before, the punishment is this!” puts his arms out, gesturing the entirety of Hell “There is no undoing what is done!”

“So, then. Why do you wanna help me if you don't believe in my cause?” she asked

“Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!” Alastor said, pulling Charlie close to him while twirling her “I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure!” His voice slowly gets darker as he describes, His way of entertainment.

“Right.” Charlie removes his hand from her back.

“Yes, indeedy!” grabs her by the waist and drags her “I see big things coming your way, and who better to help you than I?” he said while trailing off. Leaving behind two other demons who are still in the main room.

Angel Dust leans closer to Vaggie “Uh, so... uh, what's the deal with Smiles over there?” surprised by this Vaggie responds ’Wait, you've never heard of him before? You've been here longer than me!” She did gesturing him and her, he shrugs cluelessly.

“The Radio Demon. One of the most powerful beings Hell has ever seen?” she said seeing if that would make him remember.

Angel Dust shrugs a second time, crossing his arms “Eh, not big on politics.”

Veggie rolls her eye “Ugh!, Decades ago, Alastor manifested in Hell,” leans in on Angel Dust as she begins her story

a visual presentation of Vaggie's story regarding Alastor.

“seemingly overnight. He began to topple Overlords who have been dominant for centuries. That kind of raw power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast his carnage all throughout Hell just so everyone could witness his ability. Sinners started calling him "The Radio Demon" (as lazy as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world's most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing's for sure: He's an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery, and a violent monster of chaos, the likes of which we can't risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased!”

Angel Dust interrupts her thinking “Ya done?-” Laughs dryly and points at the Radio Demon, “He looks like a strawberry pimp.” Alastor made his cane appear out of a small poof of his power. Vaggie crosses her arms “Well, I don't trust him!”

‘To be fair, do you trust any man? Any men? Men?” he asked her

Vaggie ignores that. She gets up from the couch, walks up to Charlie, and grabs her by the shoulders “Charlie, listen to me. You can't believe this creep! He isn't just a happy face! He's a deal-maker! Pure evil! He can't be redeemed! ...And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we're trying to do!” looks over Charlie's shoulder analyzing Alastor who is checking his nails(or claws?).

“ I... we don't know that! Look, I know he's bad,” she glares at Alastor who is inspecting the royal family portrait of Lilith, Lucifer, her between them “I know he probably doesn't wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance!”

“Looks back at her girlfriend “To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can't. It goes against everything I'm trying to do. Everything I believe in.” She gently touches Vaggie's shoulders “Just... trust me. I can take care of myself!”

Vaggie looks at her with a worried expression “Charlie, whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!”

Alastor might have heard this makes a gesture with his hand, seemingly focusing on Vaggie.

Charlie reassures her “Don't worry, I picked up one thing from my dad!” Walking backward a bit "You don't take shit from other demons!" imitating her dad's voice walks off to where Alastor was standing.

She clears her throat “Okay, so, Al. You're sketchy as fuck and you clearly see what I'm trying to do here as a joke.” As Charlie turns away, glowing red symbols start to appear beside Alastor which quickly disappear after Charlie turns back to Alastor.

“But, I don't. I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I'm taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no…” makes gestures with hands “tricks or voodoo strings attached” Alastor rolls his eyes at that last statement. Twirling his staff

“So, it's a deal, then?”

presents his hand for a handshake as green energy bursts throughout the hotel.

Charlie stares at his hand for a moment refusing his handshake “Nope! No shaking! No deals! I... hmm... As princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I, uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel. For as long as you desire.”

A howling wolf can be heard in the background as Charlie looks over to Vaggie for approval.

‘Sound fair?” Alastor thinks for a moment, rubbing his chin “Hmm... Fair enough!” retracts his mic staff*

Charlie Sighs in relief giving him two thumbs up, “Cool beans.”

Alastor walks away from her and continues to hum while looking around as he stops, he glances at Vaggie who looks away from him. “Smile, my dear!” tickles the underside of her chin this makes her mad “You know you're never fully dressed without one!” Walks away as he continues humming “So where is your hotel staff?”

Charlie glances at Vaggie who is staring at Alastor dead in the eyes “Uh, well-”

Alastor adjusts monocle “Ohohoho, you're going to need more than that.” he walks towards Angel Dust fist who is sitting leaning “And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

Angel Dust looks at him up and down “I can suck your dick”

Mic feedback can be heard as Alastor tries to process what he was just offered. He laughed “HAH!, No.”

Angel shrugs “Your loss.”

“Well, this just won't do!” Alastor takes out his mic staff “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up.”

At the snap of his finger, a new fireplace has replaced the hotel's worn-down one he approaches it and picks up the mysterious figure covered in soot back of its neck, which then opens its eyes and stares at the trio in front of them.

Poof!

the soot came from her tiny figure.

“This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduce her

Niffty drops to the floor, unaffected “Hi, I'm Niffty! It's nice to meet you! It's been a while since “I've made new friends!

“Why're you all women, Are there any men here?!” she analyzed everyone in the room before lifting Charlie with no effort she put Charlie down, and looked around the room

“I'm sorry, that's rude, Oooh, man! This place is filthy! It really needs a lady's touch!” grabs a spider and crushes it. “Which is weird because you're all ladies, no offense.”

She stares offscreen as she takes out a feather duster “Oh, my gosh! This is awful!” She yelled in shock, she quickly cleans throughout the hotel like the flash “Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope!” spots a cockroach and stabs it with a sewing pin.

The four stare at Niffty as a voice coming from an unknown cat demon can be heard nearby.lays his cards down the table

“Hah! Read 'em and weep, boys! Full Ho- “ demonic illusions and voices distort the surroundings temporarily making the cat demon look at his new surroundings “-tel? What the fuck is this?” looks around and spots Alastor, eliciting an angry purr as he points at him “You!”

“Ah, Husker, my good friend! Glad you could make it!” Alastor says with enthusiasm

“Don't you "Husker" me, you son of a bitch! I was about to win the whole damn pot!” Husk gestured to the jackpot that was on the table, as it disappeared into nothingness.

Alastor ignored all that “Good to see you too!” Walks a bit closer to husk, who's facepalms “What the hell do you want with me this time...?” Questioned Husk who gives up at this point.

“My friend, I am doing some charity work so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that's okay!” Wrapping his arm around husk

“Are you shittin' me?!”

Alastor thinks for a moment “Hmm... No, I don't think so!”

Husk shoves Alastor off “ You thought it'd be some kind of big fucking riot just to pull me out of nowhere?!” he points at Alastor who is dusting himself off, “ You think I'm some kind of fucking clown?!”

Alastor with a grin thinks for a second “Maybe!”

“I ain't doing no fucking charity job.” Husk said arms crossed glaring at him

Alastor teleports behind him through his shadow “Well, I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment! With your charming smile” gestures towards the bar he made out of his magic, pulls Husks's lips into a forced grin “and welcoming energy, this job was made for you! Don't worry my friend,” walks over to the bar, revealing the soles of his shoes to have deer prints for a second “I can make this more welcoming! ...If you wish.” He makes a bottle of Cheap Booze appear on top of the bar table.

Husk stares at the booze for a second “What? You think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?!” Gave a wink before grabbing the booze and looking at it “ ..Well, you can!” As he chugged down the booze

Vaggie did not like this idea “Hey, hey! Hey, hey, hey! No! No bar, no alcohol! This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of mouth…brothel…man cave!”

Angel Dust Launches himself at Vaggie from somewhere “SHUT UP! SHUT! UP! We are keeping” This points to the bar with all his fingers. He walks up to the bar and begins to flirt at the poor cat man

“Hey~”

“ Go fuck yourself.” Said Husk Turning away from the pornstar, only for Angle Dust to cup his face.”Only if you watch me!”

Charlie rushed over there and got close to Husk's personal space “Oh, my gosh! Welcome to The Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!” She tries to go for a handshake.

Husk reaches for his booze, ignoring her hand “I lost the ability to love years ago.” He said dryly and continued chugging down his booze.

“So, Whaddaya think?” Alastor said, Charlie replied “This is amazing!” she rubbed her cheeks excitedly.

Vaggie who is now standing up because of angle tackling her, stands their arms crossed “It's... okay.”

Alastor reels the two towards him. "Hahaha! This is going to be very entertaining!" Vaggie wiggles out of his grasp and Alastor fixes his monocle. A flame appears in his other hand and he throws it up, pushing Vaggie out of the way. His clothes changed and he bagan dancing with Charlie.

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♫ You have a dream! You wish to tell!

twirls Charlie and dresses her up turns to Vaggie who's now on the floor and look angry

♫And it's just laughable. But, hey, kid, what the hell? ♫

turns back to Charlie and tosses her mid-air. The background behind Charlie changes to neon-colored lights featuring two apples and a skull.

Alastor catches Charlie's hands and they both tap dance.

♫ 'Cause you're one-of-a-kind! A charming demon belle! ♫

The stairs flatten and they both slide down.

♫ Now, let's give these burning fools a place to dwell! ♫

dresses up the rest of the hotel staff with a snap of his fingers Shadow demons appear from the floorboards and begin playing their instruments as Vaggie tries to talk to Charlie who is having too much fun. Alastor pulls her in with him and the others as his shadow demons surround them.

Shadow Demons: Boo!

♫ Haha! Inside of every demon is a lost cause! ♫

puts a fedora on Angel's head as he snaps his fingers back at Alastor

♫ But we'll dress 'em up for now, with just a smile! ♫

He puts a hat and fur on Vaggie and slaps her butt. She throws the accessories to the floor, now enraged

Shadow Demons: ♫ With a smile! ♫

♫ And we'll chlorinate this cesspool with some old redemption flair! ♫

kicks off skull which Niffty rushes in and cleans off

♫ And show these simpletons some proper class and style! ♫

summons a shadow clone of himself

Shadow Demons: ♫ Class and style! ♫

Alastor snaps away his shadow twirls Charlie and pinches her cheeks

♫ Oh! Here below the ground, I'm sure your plan is sound! ♫

holds hands with Charlie as they both twirl, and he lets her go.

♫They'll spend a little time, down at this Hazbin Ho-♫

The hotel door explodes, ending the music and Niffty is instantly hit with it making everyone but alastor look. Charlie, Alastor, Angel Dust, and Vaggie look outside.

Sir Pentious' warship has made an appearance outside the hotel.

“Hah! Well, well, well. Look who it is harboring the striped freak! We meet yet again, Alastor!” He said looking down at the crew mostly Alastor

“Do I know you?” Replied Alastor With a Smile on his face rising a brow at this low snake demon talking to him.

Sir Pentious ego deflates at the Radio Demons reply “Oh, yes you do!, And this time, I have the element of-“ pulls a lever “SURPRISE! Ahaha! I'm so evil!”

With a snap of a finger, an otherworldly dimensional portal opens with tentacles and shadow demons emerging from it, destroying Sir Pentious' ship while he is inside. Alastor then finishes it off as he clenches his fist a few drops of blood dripping off his hand. grinning menacingly in satisfaction for a moment as the gang looked at him in shock and horror.

Alastor breaking the tension “...Well, I'm starved! Who wants some Jambalaya? My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for Jambalaya. In fact, it nearly killed her! Hahaha! You could say the kick was right out of Hell! Ohoho, I'm on a roll! Yes, sir! This is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now…”

Alastor uses his magic changing the sign atop the hotel from "Happy Hotel" to "Hazbin Hotel".

“...Stay tuned. Hahaha…” He said sinisterly

Sir Pentious is revealed to have surprisingly survived the beating served by the Radio Demon along with Egg Boi #23 (yay he's alive)

Egg Boi #23: Now will you shoot me with your ray gun?

Sir Pentious collapses from exhaustion.

.🌒🌕🌘.

Back at the hotel

Timeskip

Charlie had fallen asleep at her work desk, she was getting everything ready for tomorrow. She was excited but also nervous about the Radio Demon helping her and the hotel. But hey you gotta start somewhere, right?

She woke and looked And saw Keekee, her cat, and the key to the hotel in front of the door. “Hey Keekee,” she said while yawning.

“Meow”

Keekee walks toward Charlie and jumps on the table in front of her

Charlie pets her with a small smile “Did Vaggie send you here or did you want anything?” Keekee purrs when Charlie scratches her head.

Keekee then hops off the desk and walks towards the door and turns around to see if Charlie would follow her. Charlie gets up from her chair and follows her furry friend.

Straight

Left

Left again

Right

Left

“Where are you taking me, Keekee?” Charlie asked the cat, Keekee only meows in response they have been walking for a while now. Then Keekee stopped in front of a door that Charlie was for sure was never there before

It had a spade in the center and carvings of sorts

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” Charlie said looking back down at Keekee who nodded her head “I wonder what’s inside…” At first, Charlie hesitated. I mean should you open a door that appeared out of nowhere? but with a bit of determination, she reaches the door knob and opens the door.

A bright light shone through blinding Charlie, she put her hand in front of her eyes to shield them from the light. Just as it fades away she is somehow inside.

She looks at her surroundings and notices she is in a garden. But it doesn’t look like it’s from Hell it’s almost on the “Earth” She gasped in shock. She turns around and sees the door is no longer behind her “Ooh this can’t be good!” She said in full panic mode! And looks for Keekee who is no longer beside her.

“Keekee!, where are you!”

She takes off running through the garden and trying to find her beloved cat, Yelling out her name. Finally after who knows how long she was searching for KeeKee. She finally found her, Charlie sighed in relief before walking towards her, Keekee was sitting on a bench purring..

But she was not alone……

Charlie stops right behind a tree and realizes that she isn’t alone in the garden...

It was a woman sitting on the bench surrounded by purple and red rose bushes, petting KeeKee who happily purred at her delicate touch, “You are a very beautiful feline aren’t you?” Said the mysterious woman “It’s good to see you again KeeKee so much different than you were before.”

“E-excuse me, umm madam o-or ma’am..” Charlie stutters a bit trying to make herself known, she hopes to ask this lady to give her KeeKee back and see if she can help her find her way home.

“And you also brought a friend with you,” said the woman in a whisper, turning around to face Charlie “You are not from here are you, sweetheart.”

Charlie got a good look at her, she was pretty. pale skin, poofy teal hair, mauve eyes, and hibiscus red spade-shaped marks on her cheeks. She wears a long, dark purple Gothic-themed dress with a brown ring at the waist, a large black sun hat with gray and white feathers and a thorny branch, a white cravat with a light purple crescent moon on it, long mauve gloves, and black flats with pale purple socks, maroon-colored lipstick and black mascara and purple eyeshadow

“If you stare for long someone might get the wrong impression”. The lady teased Charlie, realizing her actions, and started repeatedly apologizing, historically making the women laugh “Oh, I’m just teasing you don’t take it seriously.”

“It has been trapped here for who knows how long,” she said, setting Keekee off lap, standing up and brushing off some cat fur off her dress and fixing it. “Since I met another who isn’t a statue.”

That caught Charlie off guard. “Trapped?”

“Oh!, Where are my manners, forgot to introduce myself” The lady reached out her gloved hand. “my name is Eclipsa” Charlie shook her hand “Charlie”

“Now then, now we know each other. mind telling me how you got in my mind…” she said looking at Charlie, her smile fading away from her face “because only I know and a few know about this spell, a spell that you can enter while that person is asleep or unconscious..”

Charlie doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t know how she got here. “Well u-Um you see I don’t know how I just got here..” she said trying to answer Eclipsa's question as best as she could. This made Eclipsa look at with wide eyes her lips parted slightly. “I see…” clearing her throat “Well then that means you don’t know how to get out then..if I'm correct about this”. Putting one of her gloved hands on her chin thinking for a moment.

“Well then, we better make the most of it then it will take awhile for you to wake up” That caught Charlie’s attention in the last part. “Wake..up?” Looking around “You mean I’m stuck here..” she said in a slightly panicking tone Eclipsa noticed Charlie having a small panic attack. “Oh no!, if you said you “woke up” but you didn’t wake up you are dreaming,” Eclipsa said trying to calm down Charlie by holding her hand and making her sit at the bench she was sitting with KeeKee.

“Take a deep breath dear, can you do that for me ok?”

Charlie takes a deep breather in

“Now let it out and do it all over again, until you feel better.”

She exhales and smiles at her “thanks, I needed that.” That made Eclipsa smile.” You’re welcome. Now then how about you tell me a little bit about yourself and I will tell you a little bit about myself. To distract you from all this.”

This made Charlie feel warm inside someone who wanted to listen to her for once. She talked all about her Hotel and her friends, her amazing beautiful girlfriend, and how she wants to help her people from the extermination. And Eclipsa listens to her never once looking at her with a look of boredom or ignoring her, telling her that it’s all in her head and she needs to get her head out of the clouds. Instead, she smiles at her “Wow what an interesting idea, You will make a great ruler one day dear,” looking away for a moment before facing her “Don’t ever listen to those who bring you down, they will try to destroy what little hope you have left.”

Charlie felt something inside her, she felt appreciated. She almost cried but pushed it down as much as she could and looked at Eclipse with a look of determination.

“I promise.”

Ring

“Well it looks like our time with each other has come to an end”

“What?” replied Charlie

“You are about to wake up dear” Eclipse said pointing at Charlie's hands that were fading, and so was Keekee her tail was fading

“Wait! I am not ready to leave!. I have so much to talk about!” replied Chatiel trying to stop it from fading “Don't fight it dearly, but don't worry I'm not going anywhere. I don't have a choice in that matter,”

Eclipse replied petting KeeKee who was almost gone. “promise we will see each other again soon.” she hugged Charlie who hugged her back they both slowly sank to the ground, both sitting in comfortably while she hums before singing leaning her back against a tree.

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♫ Over, under, around, and through Grab the little Mewni rabbit and pull him through. ♫

eclipse plays with Charles's hair, KeeKee has finished fading leaving them both alone but sooner just one will remain. She cradles her like a mother comforting her child from a nightmare.

♫ Pinch it and fold it and tie it in a bow ♫

She grabs a few roses beside her, summoning a purple ribbon, and places them in Charlie’s hair making a bow with the ribbon.

♫ Like two little bunny ears made out of dough. ♫

Charlie glances up at her, she begins to sing with her. it was quite catchy and it kinda made her feel like a kid again when her parents were together and happy.

♫ Over and under, wherever you roam Sweet little Mewni rabbit, hop back home. ♫

Her eyes felt heavy and she began to drift away…

“See you soon, Morningstar…”

She watched as Charlie fades away all that was left was her presence. She blinks a few times wiping away tears.

“Lucifer you have a lovely daughter she is just like you and Lilith.”

She sighs softly, her eyes trailed off to a statue that was at the center of the garden of her prison.

“Please hold on a little longer. I will be with you both. My time here will end soon enough in this prison. Because

She looks up at the sky the sun begins to fall and the moons begins to rise.

“I have made a deal”