#i miss y'all i'm sorry for my absence :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

Note

Hi!!! I love your Get Off My Screen series so much! I was wondering if I could do a request for that?

Basically the idea is that Vox and the reader are just texting at night maybe and he lets something slip about something he misses from his old life on earth and because of that the reader remembers that the person they’ve been talking to for like over a year by now probably used to be alive and just spends the whole night learning everything they can about vox when he was alive (I imagine this would happen whilst vox was asleep and we’re just googling him) and then maybe I feel like we’d also google Alastor as a joke to see what all the fuss is about and then we find out that the person vox is ~~crushing~~ hating on is a serial killer and then just telling everything we learned when he wakes up.

Sorry if that’s really long I just fell like this is 100% what I would do in this situation

Old Times Gone By

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: I'm so glad you guys are requesting scenarios within the series, heck- I'm glad y'all enjoy it this much already hahaha! This is somewhat of an aftermath to the "You Could Do Better(With Me)" which is why it's not as cheery as the other chapters- but it's definitely not straight up angst. Just vulnerability and late night chatting between friends. Haha "friends"- And as always, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and happy reading!

A/N: Again, I kind of deviated from the prompt a little to better fit the narrative but Reader does know about Alastor and who he is because of Vox's ranting. They're aware that her demonic crush has a weird obsession with a cannibalistic radio serial killer deer dude and it's still not the weirdest thing he's done so far HAHAHAHA

If there was one thing Vox had to say he hated about drinking-

It had to be dealing with the hellish hangovers come morning.

Especially when he'd been wasted the night before.

A sharp jab in his side caused him to wake up this time.

He grunted, nearly falling off his chair when he shifted ever so slightly.

Huh-

Wait, why was he in here???

He could feel the migraine start to pound in his head.

Vox wasn't looking forward to today already.

When he tried to stand up, a clink of a bottle made him look down by his feet.

Picking it up to give the darn thing a once over, he scoffed.

He must have been absolutely hammered to have finished this yesterday.

It was a brand he despised the taste of too.

"Vox-? Oh, you're up."

His head whipped around so quickly once he heard your voice.

When had he even connected to your TV?

Not that he complained, he managed to see you sat up on the couch and stretching.

Your hair stuck up in odd positions and you even looked to be half-awake.

Why was that fucking cute???

"I- mhm. I guess I am. Was I... drinking yesterday?"

"I don't really know, I just knew you were drunk out of your mind last night. I can only see your face remember?"

"Ah... right."

Vox couldn't really bring himself to say much this time, not while he was still trying to grab the bits and pieces of his memory on yesterday's events.

Did he really wander into the monitor room just because he missed you?

That was low, even for him.

"Good morning anyhow, not that I think it would be if you're dealing with a hangover."

Vox just chuckled, watching you get up and disappear from the TV's view.

He wasn't in any mood to work at all, especially when he had a shitty headache to deal with too.

Eh, his empire could last a day without him.

He notified his secretary to just cancel all his duties and appointments for today, just ignoring their panic as you returned back into view.

"What are you holding?"

"Coffee."

"I thought you said you hated coffee?"

"Not hate, I just don't prefer it. But I need the caffeine to function today and I'd rather drink this bean juice than those energy drinks."

Vox wouldn't admit it, but talking to you again was already starting to make him feel a little better.

Especially after your noticeable absence.

He'd rather die again that outright say he missed you, his pride wouldn't allow it.

Cracking his joints, he just watched you sleepily stare up at him from where you sat on the couch.

Granted, it was probably because your TV was probably perched higher or on a shelf.

But Vox still thought you were kind of short.

Not that he had the right to say anything-

He was a 7ft tall giant compared to you.

"Again with the bean juice thing, and what's wrong with energy drinks?"

"They taste like straight up chemicals."

Vox just gave you a weird look when you rolled your eyes at him.

Still you just kept talking to him inbetween taking sips of your hot beverage.

"I'm not surprised you enjoy them, but your palate is probably shit."

"Oh you do not wanna go there-"

"What if I do huh? Watcha gonna do about it?"

Vox just grinned, you getting up to move closer to the screen as you challenged him.

The wide mischievous grin on your face mirrored his own and you both quickly devolved into just either bragging about exotic foods you've eaten-

Or straight up going for the jugular about each other.

"You eat McDonald's daily? I can't believe you'd feed yourself garbage Vox-"

"It's not garbage, and don't act like you've never eaten fast food."

"You are what you eat, I guess!"

"Ohoho! You bitch!"

Vox didn't seem to mind the numbing headache he felt when you were back to being your animated rambunctious self.

He wondered if it was because of the caffeine that made you all hyped up but he couldn't really bring himself to give a shit.

Not when he was still pretty tired.

It seems you noticed his retorts weren't making their usual mark though, and you crossed your arms over your chest while leaning towards the TV screen.

Vox just narrowed his eyes at you in confusion, what were you doing?

"You my good sir, need a hot cup of coffee more than I do. And freshen up while you're at it, I need to go take a shower too anyways."

You-

You did not just do what he think you did.

Were you actually mothering him??

Vox just rolled his eyes at your words, not really intending to go until he realized you weren't budging an inch either.

"Didn't you just say you needed to go clean up?"

"Not leaving till you are."

"Stubborn much?"

"Not that different from you, no."

The tech overlord laughed at your insistence, eventually relenting and disconnecting himself from your devices.

He stretched again when he got up from his chair, picking up the empty alcohol bottle near his feet not intending to clutter up or dirty his workspace.

Vox perked up when his phone buzzed though.

The darn thing catching his attention before he forgot it was there.

He checked on it with his free hand, chuckling when he realized it was just a message from you.

"Go and freshen yourself up, get a cup of coffee too while you're at it. I'll be back soon, kisses!"

You almost caused him to break his phone from the grip he had on it.

Kisses???

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?!

Vox seriously stood there staring at his phone for a good ten minutes just buffering and rebooting-

Dude is actually broken the second you do literally anything with vaguely romantic undertones.

Still he stomps all over his own hopes and feelings in fear of misinterpreting your friendliness.

Yeah, both of you were fucking clueless.

You stayed true to your word and did eventually come back after you'd cleaned yourself up.

Vox had just been waiting on your TV again and the screen brightened slightly upon noticing you.

It was a subconscious reaction, don't bring it up or he'll definitely throw a hissy fit.

So that's what you both did the whole day, talking and just catching up.

While Vox did mention you skipped classes for the day, you just shot back that he threw his work to the backburner as well.

Not that he bothered to refute it, instead just moving on with the conversation like normal.

Hours passed and time flew.

Before you knew it, the both of you were talking well into the evening.

"And that's kind of the reason why I think spaghetti is superior to penne."

"Doll, they're straight up just different kinds of pasta."

"The fact there's different kinds of pasta mean that people clearly can't decide on a superior noodle shape."

Yeaaah... your conversations kind of stopped making sense an hour ago.

Not that either of you minded, even laughing about some stupid thing way into the AM.

"So like- he thought he was really some hot shit taking on the leader of the exorcists but he got his ass absolutely handed to him!"

"Bro almost got turned into demonic venison HAHAHAHA!"

Though of course, late night conversations always went deeper than those normally held within the day.

"Say... Vox?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you miss being alive? With, ya know- talking to me and all."

Vox paused slightly, it's been a long time since he reminisced of his living days.

When was the last time he even did?

"Not necessarily, I miss some things but not a whole lot."

"Like what? When did you die???"

"Hm... I don't remember the exact date, but sometime in the fifties?"

Vox recoiled when you just gawked at his screen, why did you react like that?

"Holy shit! You're fucking ancient!"

"Haha... very funny doll, I'm not that old! I died in my thirties."

"Ehhhh? You're not much older than I am then. How??"

"Don't remember, it was a long long time ago."

You made a weird face at him, to which Vox just smiled and chuckled.

It was the same expression you wore when trying to figure things out.

As... weird and cute as it may be.

Then you suddenly yawned, causing the tech overlord to consequently do the same.

Something you poked fun at him for since when did TVs yawn apparently.

Rolling his eyes, Vox took a glance at his internal clock.

It was four in the morning?!

How long had you both been talking????

"Vox? You good?"

Apparently his bewilderment was evident on the screen, so he just switched his attention back to you.

Vox's screen glitched slightly when he was caught off guard by how close you got to the TV.

Almost all up in his face even.

"Y-Yeah, just zZst- fine. Say... Doll, do you know what time it is?"

"Uhhhh- no, not really- why?"

"It's four in the morning."

"And?"

"You need to sleep?"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to the TV, plopping down on the couch with a pout.

"Hey."

You ignored him.

"Heeeeeey-"

Vox couldn't help but chortle from your antics, you really seemed like a grumpy child right now.

"Look dollface, I don't want the fun to end either but we've still got tomorrow."

"I don't wanna say goodnight. You're just going to disconnect when I do."

"What, you can't expect me to fall asleep hooked up to all your stuff again can you? My chair isn't the most comfortable place to fall asleep."

"Still!"

Vox rubbed his face with a sigh, he felt the inexplicable urge to just pinch your cheeks.

He would if he could but he didn't exactly have hands as a TV.

Why did you have to be so cute?

"How about this? I'll stick around until you pass out. You won't even notice I'm gone come morning."

"Fineeeeeee."

It didn't take too long for you to fall asleep on the couch.

Similarly to yesterday, you were just haphazardly sprawled across the furniture with a thin blanket to cover you.

Despite his words, Vox still stuck around for a while to make sure you were asleep.

You looked so serene while you rested, like you didn't have any worries.

The overlord let out a tired sigh, he'll just stick around for another five minutes.

Just a little longer in this peaceful moment with you.

Vox totally fell asleep in his chair again, he woke up that morning in an awkward position feeling more sore than ever too.

"Oh for fuck's sake-"

"MORNING VOXYYY!!!"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #Get Off My Screen Series

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starryficsfinishwen · 6 months

Text

✧!。◟[kinktober 2023] ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ — PGR & GI x reader [week 3]

baptize in your thighs until it hurts

a.n. - waow I'm on my break, what a surprise. I'm super super sorry for the delay. I got busy again after midterms week, and also other real life stuff. meanwhile I'm writing this down while in the bathroom LOL

pairings - forsaken + cerberus [watanabe, noan, noctis, murray] & anemo bois [kazuha, venti] x fem!reader

kinktober masterlist

warnings - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. NSFW THEMES: breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, bimbofication, dacryphilia, lingerie, body worship. cervix fucking?? size kink includes tummy bulging heuheue. also includes exhibitionism (bar; noctis, venti). "just the tip, but whoops" (noctis). some soft sex (kazuha, venti). cunnilingus (venti). fingering (noan, kazuha)

special mention - banners by @/rookthornesartistry, @/cafekitsune

! — Watanabe: Epitaph [ breeding kink ]

[a.n. - have y'all SEEN this man's awakening portrait? I'm creaming.]

Your lover doesn't take “no” for an answer.

“Nngh, w-wait, Wata-ah,” your whines are muffled into the sheets, “s-slow down, please!”

You've long been accustomed to Watanabe's absence— one of the cons for being an ally of Forsaken and especially being their leader's lover. You'd spend days, even weeks and months, find yourself without him. However, you've been an angel to the faction, always helping around whenever one needs help. Things do get different by the time your lover, your Watanabe, comes home—

“That's it, fuck,” mumbled Watanabe, “doin' fucking well,”

He becomes a different person; burying into your cunt as deep as possible, fucking you into oblivion.

Unfortunately, your pleas fall on deaf ears; Watanabe's gloveless fingers trail down from the nape of your exposed neck, to the base of your spine, where your hands are currently tied, holding it down with only a fraction of his strength. His other hand grips hard on your hips, one that you were sure would leave bruises in the morning. You gasp as the sensation, tickling and teasing, overwhelm you.

“I missed you,” he groans, a hard thrust to your pussy, your walls clinging onto his large dick mercilessly. “Ah, ha, I see that this pussy missed me, too.”

“Wa-Watanabe,” you whined further, squirming as he bullies your pussy, “t-too much, s'too big...!”

“But you're taking it so well,” he hums as he leaned onto the arch of your back, one hand now fiddling with your breast, and the other now trailing to your face, “you've always taken it so, so well, darling. That's my girl, mmh?”

Your cries intensified as his free hand finds your mouth, fingers shoved in, and you automatically sucked it, “fuck, yes, that's it...fuck, good, good girl.”

You feel your walls spasm uncontrollably as Watanabe fucks you harshly, certain that his dick snugly rams into your cervix, the drag of his shaft achingly alpng your walls made you feel so full after months of his absence. You cried out, mouth drooling over his fingers, and Watanabe laughs.

“I fucked you so many times now, but you're still so tight; god, you're driving me insane.”

Your brain fogs up at his praise, drowning in the endless waves of pleasure. Without a warning, his cock still deeply inside of you, he flips you over— and you find yourself staring at his green eye.

“Mm, my darling's already fucked out, mmh?” The hand on your mouth now trails to your jaw, and you feel yourself ache as he looks at you so tenderly despite his rough thrusts, “Did you miss me that much?”

“Y-yes,” you mewled, feeling his other hand effortlessly bring your legs over his shoulder, feeling his dick bury itself deeper in you, “W-Watanabe...yo-you're going to break me-”

“Can't help it,” his other hand now frees your tied hands, “not when you looked so good with those children.”

Although your brain is a messy mush, you faintly recall the event earlier— the kids who were at Watanabe's legs, laughing and cheering for their grand hero's welcome. You remember calling them back to you to not distract Watanabe, how you laughed alongside them, and how you carefully took care of them in the main team's absence.

“W-wha-”

“You'd look so good, fuck,” his hand now grips the other side of your hip, the other on your slightly bulging belly and holding it down, somehow aware that his big dick was rearranging your insides, “if I could fill your belly up with kids, mmh? I think you'd look so good carrying our child.”

A part of you wants to point out that you can't, but god— the way his cock was splitting you in half, drilling into that one spot that's making you see so many stars, you forget and instead latch onto his broad shoulders, nails sinking into them.

“Watanabe,” you moaned, your back arching to meet his fast thrusts, “fill me up, please, fill me up so good,”

His body pressed into you, his lips nibbling onto the expanse of your neck, leaving hickies wherever he could reach, while fucking you without a fail.

“Wanna make you a daddy,” you dawdled out, cockdrunk as his dick pulsed inside of you— “fuck and fill me up, Watanabe.”

And oh, it felt so good, too good, when his grunts in your ear makes you shiver all over— the tall tale sign of him coming soon.

“God, fuck,” his fingers reached to rub your throbbing clit, your orgasm cresting over your foggy mind, “cum for me, [Y/N], let me fill you up with my cum.”

You cried out your lover's name as your high comes unexpectedly, with Watanabe unraveling alongside you— his cum filling your empty womb, overfilling you more maybe so as something wet and sticky coats your inner thighs, and him fucking you through your orgasms. Although tired, you whined as you pulled Watanabe back in your bare chest, pouting as he attempted to pull out.

“D-don't,” you whispered, lethargy pulling you to sleep, “don't wanna let your cum out...”

“I missed you, too,” Watanabe chuckles, “but you already know that...”

You pouted, feigning obliviousness, “no. But I do believe in miracles.”

You clench around him, his still-hard dick, and he looks away, his hair covering half of his face. “[Y/N]...”

“Fuck me until I can't walk, Watanabe. Who knows, you just might get me pregnant.”

! — Noctis: Indominus [ size kink ]

Sometimes, you think your boyfriend is a little dumb.

Sure, causing a ruckus and nearly getting you (and Cerberus) in trouble nearly costs half of your mortal life— you're quite surprised you haven't ascended to heaven yet. Although that happens, you still love your boyfriend to bits; knowing that he's just a little dumb boy who needs a little guidance.

Or so you thought.

“N-Noctis!” a moan slips out of your covered mouth, as you felt his cockhead tease the entrance of your slip, “w-what if someone sees us-!”

“So they would,” he groans in your ear, breath tickling you from your neck, down to your wet cunt, “god, I will die if I can't fuck this pussy.”

“Noctis...!” Although you want to reprimand him for being less careful, you can't help but succumb to the way he shallowly thrusts into you. “I-I thought you said-”

“Mmh, just the tip, hngh,” he assures you, leaving little kisses all over your jaw, “I-I promise, it won't take long.”

You dumb ass as a boyfriend is nothing but trouble. You sigh, already feeling full just from his cockhead, “o-okay...just please, make it quick...”

“thank god,” he whines into your ear, hips uncontrollably rutting into you, “i-it won't take long.”

But your boyfriend is kind, loving even— seeing the way your lips curl into crescents, teeth biting into them as you suppress your moans, your closed eyes, pussy gripping onto him like a vice— it almost feels like he's close to drowning. Drowning to the point that he ruts into you like he's running, holding you down further.

You notice this quickly, eyes wide open as he sinks you further into his long and thick cock, tears forming in the corner of your eyes,

“W-wait...!” you cried out, feeling the delicious stretch of your cunt just to accommodate his length, “Noctis, y-you promised!”

Although it's been so many times since you've engaged in such acts, your pussy still struggles to take in everything in Noctis; sometimes, only half of his dick is inside of you. But now-

“shit,” he growled loudly, caging you further as he drills you into the walls, your cries only turning him on as he sees his cock finally nearing to be buried deep inside of you, “such a greedy little pussy.”

Your cunt throbs as a response as you felt him split you open. “Ah, hah, Noctis, p-please...”

“Look at this,” his hands run through the bulge in your stomach, where his cock snugly rests, “I knew you could take it. You're a champ, babe.”

You whined— overwhelmed as he starts to fuck you, the first time that his dick immediately reaches the sweet spots inside of you. Maybe he's not the one who's dumb, but you. It's harder to hold back your moans now, no— not when your boyfriend is now chasing the high alongside you, the pleasure burning your mind.

“Fuck that; don't cover your mouth, baby. Let the whole bar hear how you're only for me, yeah?”

! — Noan: Arca [ praise kink ]

Noan is the prettiest construct you've ever seen in your whole life.

Soft black hair, innocent and careful lime green irises, smooth yet refined jaw— he's basically the whole package. Not only that, you're lucky to have him as your lover.

A lover who's hellbent on getting your praises.

“Good boy,” you cooed, fingers threading through Noan's hair, moans spewing out of your lips as you felt his own fingers toying inside if you, “you're doing good for me.”

Picture this: a lazy Sunday morning, and you're both watching some cheesy telenovela to pass some time before you go back to work tomorrow. At some point, while the casts are busy arguing over trivial issues, clothes have long been forgotten, and your boy is under you, looking confusingly pretty as he plays with your cunt.

You straddle him by the hips, leaning back, pride swelling in your chest as you notice Noan is trying so many things with you. His usual smiling expression is flushed pink, as he looks at you with such interest and curiosity.

“Noan, no,” you whispered, a hand on his cheek, “you're doing so, so good, nngh, I love it when you do this.”

A poor boy, just experimenting with everything new. It could be overwhelming, seeing as he never had any experience, but you think this is the perfect time to try— especially now that you're both horny.

“Fuck,” you cursed as you felt his fingers curls around the spot you've waited, “r-right there, Noan, shit, you're so good...”

Noan wouldn't admit it, but it's true- he's getting too turned on. Just the way you've looked above him, your moans and calling out to him, and just how warm and wet the inside felt. He unconsciously licks his lips as he looked up at you, already feeling so lightheaded just from looking at you.

“[Y/N],” he maintains the pace as he sees you rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, a waterfall of moans crying out his name, “you look so...”

Without a warning, you unravel in Noan's fingers, something wet and sticky coming out of your pussy. Noan keeps his fingers going, even after you came, coaxing whatever liquid was still left inside of you.

That was your first orgasm in front of the boy, somehow, it made the boy's chest throb— was he really that good? To make someone- his lover- come so good like that?

Reality pulls him back, when he felt your fingers wrap itself around his shaft, a lewd and unapologetic moan coming out of his lips. You stared back at him, a small smile on your lips.

“Did you like that, Noan?” You purred, standing a bit so you could slot yourself in between his shaft, making the both of you moan, “you made me cum with your fingers; you're doing so well.”

His dick throbs at the phrase, “i-it's my first time...”

You start to grind on his shaft, eyes rolling back at how long it would be inside of you. “Mm, I'm enjoying it, I really do confess...”

It sparked his interest. Noan shifts a bit, so the prominent vein in his dick perfectly grinds with your trembling clit, “what is, [Y/N]?”

“I think about this situation a lot.” Your grinding becomes rougher, causing the both of you to moan out loud, “god, the thought of you fucking me is so unreal; but here we are.”

He groans as he felt your hands back at his hair, pulling him close as you grinded more on his leaking cockhead now, “that you must look so pretty when you're under me...”

You stood up slightly, one hand now aligning his aching dick closer to your warm hole, “seems like I won't be imagining that now, hm?”

Moaning out his name, you bottomed out in one thrust. Noan gasps in surprise, as he felt your walls tremble with his cock inside of you.

“Look at me, Noan,” you opened your mouth to warn him, one hand tilting his chin to reach your line of vision. “you'll be a good boy and fuck me like this, yeah?”

He groans, but thrusts up, as a response to your order, “y-yes...”

“Good boy,” you cooed once more, bouncing on his cock with a smile on your face as his expression contorts in pleasure, “let me be the one to teach you proper etiquette in fucking me.”

! — Murray: ?? [ bimbofication + dacryphilia ]

If he wasn't being a doting brother to Lee, then he's known to be one of the most calculative and cunning commandants— a well-known fact even that he is Cerberus' esteemed commandant. You wouldn't lie; Murray lived up to all his titles and responsibilities. He's the perfect man for any job you'd ask for: in politics, in the battlefield, and anything else in between.

As a foundation of his existence as an extraordinary individual, another comes into the picture: his pretty, little trophy girlfriend— you. A sweet, sweet little thing; always at his beck and call, always there to relieve him from his stress and sadness. In the eyes of those around you, you're always his support person, giving him hugs and kisses when he's looking down. You also bake pastries to give out around the hall, and occasionally to your lover's team, too. What a pretty, little, sweet thing you were—

Quite literally.

“Do you like the view?” Murray's sinister grin is etched on his face, your eyes nearly close to forming heart-shaped irises, the drag of his dick in between the crevices of your breasts, “you do, you little minx?”

Behind the tasteful eyes of the public, your Murray was not the sweet man they knew; vicious, manipulative, and—

“Yes, yes,” you dawdled out, a shudder across your body as you felt the vibrator slip in deeper inside of you, “that feels s-so good, m-master...”

Murray's favorite little plaything: you. Other than being his doting girlfriend, you were his plaything; dolled up to his preferences, always hungry for his cock.

“Mhm, it does,” Murray fucks between your breasts, his hand finding your jaw and slotting his thumb in between your open lips, “such a good girl for me.”

When he pulls away (you whine from the loss of his heat; he finds it endearing), he slowly pulls out your favorite pink vibrator out of your overstimulated pussy. You cry out, “w-wait, n-no...!”

“Mm? What's wrong?” He teases, mirth dripping from his tons, “do you prefer a poor old vibrator than my cock, dear?”

You whined once more, desperate to feel something fill up your awaiting walls, hole clenching around nothing.

“W-wanna feel you in me, m-master,” you sniffled, tears beginning to form like crystals in the corner of your eye, “I feel so empty, wan' your dick in me, master, please?”

And who was Murray to deny his pretty little plaything; you, sprawled out so beautifully in his bed, pussy aching and drenched in your arousal, little tears escaping your eyes? Murray growls as your tears begin to turn him on, crawling so that his shaft rubs your neglected pussy.

You've both been awfully stressed anyways. But god— he wishes he could keep teasing you until you break.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” he moans your name when the tip of his cock catches your clit, “be good for me, hm? I'm going to start fucking you...”

Without a delay, he slips in his pussy into your wet, warm walls; the instrusion make the both of you cry out. Tears now spill out of your eyes, and Murray ruts into you, without even letting you adjust.

“God, still so tight for me,” he chuckles, watching you squirm as he fucks you harder, “my little girl, my little plaything.”

But you've long descended into heaven, your wordless babbles of "more, more" and "please, more", feeling the drag of his dick now filling you up more than ever.

When Murray feels your orgasm teetering closer, he only hastens the pace, hand over your drooling mouth, as you mindlessly drown in the pleasure he gives, “You'll take more, hm? How about you count the number of times I make you cum tonight; we'll start again if you lose count, okay, darling?”

! — Kazuha: Scarlet Leaves Pursue Wild Waves [ lingerie ]

Kazuha has always been away far too long.

Always traveling to where the winds would take him— you believe that it's really the reason why he has anemo as a vision; he can talk to the trees with only a whisper of the wind— and only comes back weeks or months later.

Although a ring is out of the picture, he once promised his love to you with the call of the wind as your witness. At first, it was stupid; but you loved him that you'd let him go, when the wind was as free as it could get.

To cope with his absence, you started to look for ways to surprise your lover when he comes back. At first, they were little trinkets you'd find by the market, into desserts and food that you can make. Quite recently though, after asking around the married ladies in Liyue harbor, they told you about a secret they'd do when they wait for their husbands at sea: wearing something that their husbands couldn't wait to see them in.

Lo and behold, an autumn-colored lace drapes around your body. Lingerie. Although it's awkward (you've never been entirely confident with your physique), you think that it might look different in your lover's eyes anyway. You prepare to put it away, waiting for the day Kazuha would come home.

Yet, that day seemed to be today.

“Are you trying that on for me, my love?”

You whirled around to meet Kazuha, who was leaning by the doorframe, a gentle smile on his lips. Quickly, you try to grab the nearest clothing to shield yourself from his knowing gaze, “K-Kazuha! You're home early!”

He says nothing, but walks lightly to you. You back away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you are left with Kazuha, bodies touching and his face inches away from you.

“I asked you a question, my dove,” he smiles, taking your hand to his lips, “are you trying this on for me?”

You try not to look at his face, guilt and embarrassment making your cheeks flush a deep shade of red, “I-I...was just trying them on...”

“My dove, my love,” he calls out, lips from your hand now trailing to your shoulder blades and to your jaw, a soft kiss there, “why are you so flustered?”

“U-um...”

Words die on your throat, as you felt his hands snake to your hips, guiding you onto the bed, his lips kissing and teeth nibbling on your skin. “You look...very beautiful in it. I know you've always been so beautiful, but in this...you look so...breathtaking.”

You softly moaned at his words and his ministrations, his kiss turning into a hickey in one side of your neck, “Kazuha, I...”

“So beautiful,” he laughs and his breath tickles your skin, your cunt throbbing when his other hand now rests at your inner thighs, massaging it down there, “my pretty dove is dressing up like a gift for me.”

His fingers deftly brush your clothed pussy, a small patch of wetness staining it. Putting light pressure onto where your clit was, Kazuha starts to rub you down there, making you squirm. But Kazuha doesn't mind; he leaves more hickies where his kisses left, his other hand now delicately massaging one mound of your breast.

“I-I wasn't sure if you'd like this...”

“Darling,” he purrs in your ear, making you shiver, “you are a gift to me; naked or not, I will always think that you are so beautiful.”

Pushing your lacey panties aside, Kazuha swiftly slips in a finger inside of you, making you gasp, but he quickly kisses you. His thumb caresses your clit while fingering your little cunt, your moans get swallowed in his kiss. The smell of Inazuman air, sakura trees, and ocean drives you insane— this was your lover, and he was back once more in your arms.

With a loud cry, you come undone in Kazuha's fingers, squirting after such an intense atmosphere. When you've calmed down, you notice a glint in Kazuha's eyes, and you knew that wasn't the end of it.

“I missed you, my dove. Why don't I show you how much I've missed you? Ah; don't take that off, I want to make love with you while you're wearing that.”

! — Venti/Barbatos: Windborne Bard [ body worship ]

Your god is kind; benevolent, unwavering, commited.

His aquamarine eyes glow so brightly than you've ever seen before. Even as he stands before you, a sinner so bare in the eyes of a god—your god— his lips are a sweet smile, and you've known these lips for a long time now.

“My angel,” your god is a lover, voice used for singing ballads and songs of tales, “so, you are here.”

In a cathedral. In Barbatos' throne, where his lyre laid at his feet. You throb at the very thought of sinning in his holy cathedral— stained glass shone by moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the man in front of you as he looked at you with such reverence, you forgot for a moment that you were going to do something so...unholy in this sacred place.

“This is your idea,” you huffed, already feeling conscious as you shuffle in your makeshift bed (your cape and clothes), feeling so shy in your god's presence, “are you sure I won't get sentenced to hell here?”

Venti laughs, settling in between your legs, “relax~ I double checked everything. You needn't worry, my muse.”

You've always known Venti had a penchant for doing so many reckless things— never would have thought that having sex in a cathedral— his cathedral— being one. Venti blows a strong wind to your exposed cunt, causing you to yelp.

“V-Venti!”

“Pretty,” he purred, fingers tracing the inside of your thigh, “my windblume, have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

“Countless times now,” you retorted, “including now.”

“Tsk, I ought to teach you better than that.” He smiles at you, the same aquamarine irises you've fallen in love with glowing brighter once more, “this offer is so tempting, you wouldn't have the heart to deny it.”

“I'd like to see you try, then, my bard.”

Your bard, your god, chuckles. Effortlessly, he hoists your legs up to his shoulder blades, your ankles over his shoulders. You watch as he keeps his gaze at you, sultry and honest, as he kisses the area above your feet.

“My windblume,” he breathed into your legs, trailing kisses without breaking eye contact, “my precious dove,”

He kisses and kisses— your legs, your knees, the back of your knees— and you think of it so endearing, even as arousal pools down there, and his kisses are still so gentle; his fingers would absentmindedly trail your thighs, and his gaze was far too intense, you had to look away.

“My muse, don't look away,” his spare hand finds your jaw, to make you look at him, as he goes down and kisses the inside of your thighs. “let me worship you, the same way you did to me.”

It tugs an unknown emotion in your heart, as you cannot look away; no, when he reverently kisses the inside of your thighs more, near your sopping wet core. It makes you cry out—“Venti,” but he nibbles that area more.

Your god spews words of worship and prayers in between them, your core that throbs at his words. You hold onto his hair, but he remains unfazed, only teasing you more.

“Barbatos,” you cried out, and Venti only smiles down there.

“Yes, call me that, my muse,” he holds onto your hips, as he licks a long stripe of your pussy, tasting you.

“Call your god,” he whispers in between your folds, now hellbent to fuck you with his tongue, “and I'll make you cum.”

Venti is relentless as he tastes you, face buried in between your legs. You moan and cry out his name, archons your witness; but tonight, your god forgets he is a god. Rather— he worships you, a sinner, as he makes you unravel in his touch.

“That's it, my muse,” he hums, coaxing the first orgasm of tonight, “let this cathedral know whose god you're worshipping while I fuck you hard like this.”

please like, reblog, comment if you likey! please don't copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission!

-ˋˏ starryficsfinishwen ˎˊ

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toujokaname · 7 months

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An Unfamiliar Sight (HiMERU Idol Story)

Author: Kanata Haruka

Characters: Rinne, Niki, Kohaku, HiMERU

"—HiMERU also feels restless in his school uniform, you know."

Season: Winter Location: Lounge in TV Station

Rinne: Hiya~ I got to the dressing room earlier than expected, huuh.

I've turned into a respectable member of society ♪

Niki: What're you talking about, Rinne-kun. A respectable member of society doesn't typically stroll into the dressing room right at the last minute.

Uh, wait? Is Kohaku-chan the only one here?

Rinne: Ain't it weird that Merumeru's runnin' late? Did he get a stomachache or somethin'?

Kohaku: Haah. You both just go at yer own pace as always. Didn't y'all see HiMERU-han's message?

HiMERU-han mentioned there were some procedures at Shuuetsu Academy he couldn't miss, so he'll be late.

Rinne: Academy? Oh, yeah, Merumeru's still a student.

Any way you look at it, he doesn't look like a student at all, so I totally forgot.

Niki: I completely forgot about it too. So HiMERU-kun's an earnest student, huh~

But, you know, it's kinda mysterious. I feel like I've never seen HiMERU-kun in his school uniform.

Even though we've already spent a bunch of time together?

Kohaku: Yeah, that's right. When Crazy:B got thrown into the same room, he and I both took a temporary absence from school.

He returned to school after movin' into the Seisoukan dorms, so we haven't had a straightforward chance to see it, y'know?

Rinne: Gotcha. Well, I guess Merumeru ain't tryna hide it either.

In that case, wouldn't it be interesting to see Merumeru in his uniform at least once?

HiMERU: —What about HiMERU's uniform?

Rinne: Oh, speak of the devil ♪ Hey, Merumeru. You're wearing your uniform this... time...

HiMERU: Apologies for the delay in getting here. HiMERU will get ready quickly.

Rinne & Kohaku: .........

HiMERU: Amagi, Oukawa, what's the matter? You look quite dumbfounded.

Rinne: Gyahahahahaha! Hey, hey, ain't that a bit too much, Merumeru?!

HiMERU: What is it with you laughing all of a sudden, Amagi?

Niki: Woah~ It's my first time seeing HiMERU-kun in his school uniform.

Yup, yup, I see. So it feels like that~ It's kinda refreshing.

HiMERU: —Right. Now that Shiina has said that, HiMERU gets the gist of it.

However, he finds it upsetting to be laughed at to this extent.

Kohaku: No, sorry, HiMERU-han... It ain't like I'm burstin' out laughin' like Rinne-han, but....

Seein' HiMERU-han in an unfamiliar outfit, I was at a loss for words to describe this strange feelin'...

Rinne: No matter how I look at it, you look like a cosplayer! For real, my stomach hurts! Gyahahahaha!

HiMERU: (...Is it really enough to warrant saying that?)

Rinne: Hey, hey, don't make that face, Merumeru.

I've never seen ya look like a proper highschooler before, so I just burst out laughing.

Kohaku: My bad, HiMERU-han. I'm in the same boat as Rinne-han.

There's a saying of "the clothes make the man", but in yer case, it's the opposite.

The uniform can't compete with yer mature atmosphere.

HiMERU: —Amagi, Oukawa, there's no need to force yourselves to keep talking.

It seems like you are desperately trying to patch it up, but the conclusion remains the same.

From now on, no matter how much of a hurry he's in, HiMERU will make sure not to come to work still in uniform.

Rinne: Don't get so pouty, Merumeru. It was my bad.

See, I never really went to school properly.

So it's prolly the norm for highschoolers like Merumeru to exist, yeah?

Niki: Well, besides HiMERU-kun, none of us are really attending school properly. Even I only graduated middle school.

Kohaku: I'm also just startin' to get back into school.

If you think 'bout it that way, the only one here who's leadin' a decent student life's HiMERU-han.

I wonder what kinda highschool life yer leadin'. I'm curious now...

HiMERU: —HiMERU can confidently say it hasn't been the youth that Oukawa is expecting.

Rinne: But, actually, you're havin' an exquisite time at school, ain'tcha?

Accordin' to our deputy director, Shuuetsu's a place with a well-established employee benefits system.

HiMERU: HiMERU hardly makes use of it. Naturally, HiMERU prioritizes idol activities.

—Ah, but some of the services available at Shuuetsu may indeed be described as "exquisite".

Kohaku: Oh~ If HiMERU-han says so, then they must be real good.

What the heck are they? I wanna know for reference.

HiMERU: Although it may have sounded grandiose, it's not such a big deal.

It is only a ryoutei—that is to say, a high class traditional restaurant. You can enjoy delicious dishes with well-balanced nutrition.

Niki: Please wait a second!

A ryoutei?! There's a place like that at Shuuetsu Academy?!

HiMERU: Yes, it seems that it is managed by the same affiliate company as CosPro.

A dedicated chef and nutritionist are assigned to each idol to provide the optimal menus.

It is reasonably inexpensive for students, so it has been helpful for HiMERU to utilize it several times when he eats meals.

Niki: ...I see. There's such a heavenly place in Shuuetsu, is there.

I've decided. I'm gonna transfer to Shuuetsu Academy! And I'll eat a bunch of food at the ryoutei!

Kohaku: That's a lousy motive, Niki-han...

Rinne: To begin with, Niki's a middle school graduate. You gotta start from the beginning, not as a transfer!

You'll be a first year in highschool and it'll just be too tough, so forget it, forget it.

You'd be better off securing your future by becoming my housewife and getting a permanent job at my place.

Niki: I hate that, I don't wanna be taken away by Rinne-kun for my whole life!

Please, HiMERU-kun! I don't like being pushy, but I wanna go to Shuuetsu's ryoutei too!

HiMERU: —HiMERU can't do anything about it single-handedly.

However, Shuuetsu Academy is a school for outstanding idols.

If Shiina can demonstrate exceptional talent as an idol, perhaps...

Niki: Are you for realsies?! You must be!

HiMERU: —Provided that you can demonstrate your ability. In that sense, this upcoming recording may be just the right chance for you.

Niki: Alriiight! Once it's decided like that, I'll get to work right away!

Rinne-kun and Kohaku-chan, we're going all out today!

The taste of ryoutei is waiting for me!

Kohaku: Niki-han really is a guy who only cares 'bout his stomach...

Rinne: ...Nice job baiting Niki, Merumeru.

But I won't take the blame for whatever happens later, aight?

HiMERU: —HiMERU understands that. That is why he didn't confirm anything either.

In the worst case scenario, he will take out a meal from the ryoutei and bring it back to the dormitory. It's humiliating, so he'd rather not, if possible.

Now, let's put an end to the chitchat. There's not much time left for the recording, so let's get ready quickly.

—HiMERU also feels restless in his school uniform, you know.

Note: About the housewife line... Yeah I don't know man. What it says on the tin. The page just talks about how women getting married used to be referred to as a permanent job, which is what Rinne says Niki should get with him.

#kanata haruka #idol story #rinne #niki #kohaku #himeru

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askadrianalucardtepes · 5 months

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[OOC] Trying my best

Hey guys! I'm really sorry I haven't posted in a long while, and that my posts have become so infrequent lately. I feel like I've been apologizing for my absence every other post I make and I am very sorry. Truth is, I'm currently absolutely exhausted with both my studies, commission work and private life, which has made it hard to find motivation and time for the blogs I run. And that royally sucks, because these blogs are my passion and I care so, so deeply about them. I don't even know what the problem is for me that's making me dread working on posts, but it bugs me to no end because I just want to focus on having fun here. I'm gonna try to post a bit more and see if that helps, maybe I just need to get back into it. If not, I might call for a hiatus instead, a proper one so I can recharge and come back here fresh. But I really, really don't want it to come to that, I'd miss y'all. Also unrelated but, I'm also wondering if you guys enjoy my cosplay posts and such? I post them here to get some engagement with the blog (and because I'm mighty proud of them) but I wonder if you guys enjoy that work too. My usual posts don't generate that much attention (and understandably so), my cosplay posts usually do better. I hope y'all here enjoy them as much as I enjoy cosplaying. I dunno, my headspace is a bit wonky lately so maybe that's what's got me wondering. Remember I love all of you dearly and value you all so much for sticking by the blog, even when I don't post much. Rest assured I do think about this spot a lot and still care about it deeply! And when I'm feeling a bit better, more energized and alive again, hopefully I'll get right back into the swing of things and pick up where I left off. For now I'm gonna try my best to answer some asks and see what happens!

Much love, Adrian

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noelle-sims · 14 days

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SIMCHELLA 2024

Weekend one with Del Sol's favorite it couple, Willa and Ember Darling-Goth

Hi everyone!! I've missed you!!!!! sorry for my absence, I work really early morning shifts so I'm just kinda tired all the time lol. I also haven't been consistently doing much cas or gameplay these days, most just building :/

A ton has happened in my legacy lately my heir, Willa, got married and had FOUR kids, two sets of twins. Its a little overwhelming to play with 4 toddlers/infants at once so I've been kinda burnt out but I'm hoping to start posting some more on here :)

Also, I've been toying around with starting a youtube channel ever since I started watching @simgraze (I'm obsessed with them btw go check her out) so I'd love to know if y'all would be interested <3

wcif friendly :) coachella festival lot by @sierrathesimmer inspired by @farfallasims

thank you to all the cc creators!!

#my sims #simblr #sims 4 #sims 4 aesthetic #sims 4 cc #sims 4 gameplay #the sims community #ts4 #sims 4 custom content #simchella #gshade #sims 4 legacy #simscc #sims 4 screenshots #thesims4 #the sims 4 #gaming #custom content

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smallestapplin · 3 months

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Mini vent post, you may ignore but I felt y'all needed an explanation.

I think I'm finally ready to admit it.

I love the Pokémon fandom, it's one of the first fandoms I ever joined as a kid.

I adore what we create, the bonds it has allowed me to make.

But I'm burnt out on submas, I thinks that's why I haven't opened my request in a while.

I still love them very much, do not misunderstand, I love them dearly.

But I've been writing them 95% of the time since I started this blog like a year or so ago.

I believe I'd still accept requests of them, they hold a special place in my heart after all, but I take only a handful of requests at a time, and it's usually like if I only take 25 requests then 20 of them will be submas, and the remaining five other characters.

It makes me want to branch out more.

Like I love castlevania, and I'm excited the newest anime has gotten people into it and I hope they discover the games for more lore and characters!

I'm smitten with legend of Zelda, I love the different versions of Link, Ganon, and the memorable characters from different games (fierce deity come home please, it's been 23 years-)

Genshin has pulled me in and I can't see myself leaving anytime soon, I love too many of its characters.

I will never get over Dante, Vergil, Lady, and Trish from devil may cry, never, I'm weak-

I think I'm over thinking it to be honest, like I'm fighting with my over what gets the most likes or interactions vs what the characters I'd like to write more.

I know I can't control the inspiration or anything but.

I don't really know what I'm rambling about now, but I'm tired.

I want to get back into writing as I sit in my less than loving house, writing gives me an escape and seeing what I write make people happy makes me happy.

I just am not sure what all to do anymore.

It's probably just the depression talking or something, but I'm getting back into old fandoms like kingdom hearts and final fantasy 7(I'm playing the remake and need to beat Reno, but sir your tibbies are right there-)

And it's like I can breathe again, even if just for a moment.

I hope I actually explained myself a little, but I feel as though I've been all over the place.

I know I do miss posting stuff and then getting swarmed with people talking about their ideas or sending in their theories on things, or even just to send me a whole fic of their own cause they wanted to share.

I'm sorry for the absence y'all, I do love y'all and this community at lot, I wouldn't be where I am without any of you.

#vent post #felt sad might delete later #jes.talks #chat

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fatuismooches · 11 months

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smooches is back 🏃‍♀️💨

Uh... I don't even know how to start this but... I'm back! After my like 3 month absence. I feel really bad about leaving you all hanging. So I'm not dead dw, I'm alive and kicking! I just had some personal things to attend to which came first and I was just too busy to run this and my life and blah blah... I don't want to dump too much

Thank you for all the kind messages... I'm super sorry to make you all worry. I'll be responding to stuff soon. But I'm really fine so please don't worry anymore 💖

I have writing pieces to post but I don't know how many of y'all are still here so please send me brainrots abt the harbingers or anything in general 🥺 I missed you all sm!😭 I'll probably reblog some things to get the activity flowing again...

#smooches talks #ik this is crappy... but um yea #i was just in a important part of my life #and future #and i really needed to focus on my stuff #and i just didnt have time for writing #or wanting to be online #BUT UM YEAH IM BACK NOW AND I FEEL 100% BETTER #the harbinger brainrot is flowing through me 100x more now

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lacunasbalustrade · 8 months

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Hi just so everyone knows, quick update on my status

I have 86 drafted posts that I can't share yet, a few reviews on indie games I've played that I have yet to send, definitely a lot of missed messages I still need to reply to, and many many wips I miss doing with y'all. I haven't forgotten about the fics I owe either.

Unfortunately, I'll be offline for a while longer as I will be at home for the remainder of this week and the next. If I do catch some time, rest assured that I'm checking up on how everyone is doing and will reply when I finally get to return.

O Levels (major exams) are in mid-October & I know myself, so I'll definitely be around as soon as I head back to school, but I might be less active than before in order to crash the exams. In my absence, I know a lot of things have happened - I look forward to sharing my reactions with everyone as soon as I return to school.

MISS U!!!! love you!!! and during the holidays I have been spending time with my family, so I am happy to report that a lot of that time has been spent getting addicted to yet another fandom, bungou stray dogs (currently in the third season huehue)

that's all for me from now! I'm sorry for making everyone wait?!!! and I will be seeing u!

#<passing notes in class>

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 1 year

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DADDY ISSUES - Part Thirteen: Hot Girl Bummer

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: After being gone for nearly three weeks, Elvis is returning from his US tour. You've never been more excited to see someone but something is different. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: mentions of violence and guns, mentions of drugs, sexual themes, pain as a result of sex, sexual shame, angst

Rating: M || Word Count: 8072 (oops 😅 )

A/N: It's really important y'all read this because this chapter is heavy, with a capital H. It does contain some serious sexual themes that may be triggering to some readers. It's a very short section (700 words) and I've marked a place where you can skip that content if you wish. I don't want any of y'all to have to read something you don't want to see or experience, so please pay attention to that as you're reading. While it definitely drives home the unfortunate changes in E + Reader's relationship, you do not have to read it to understand the plot. It's solely here to demonstrate how far both characters have fallen.

I also hope I didn't scare you off cause it's not like a graphic depiction of sa or anything! I'm honestly not even sure it needs this much of a warning, but better safe than sorry! It's just a little more intense than the smut I usually write and I really want to make sure you guys stay safe and aren't triggered when you read my writing.

I love you and stay safe out there!! :) 💕

Song Rec: hot girl bummer - blackbear

This is Part 13 of Daddy Issues. Find the rest of the series here!

[ masterlist | taglist ]

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

As you move to cross off your calendar with a big red X, you realize that Elvis has been gone for fifteen days. The worst fifteen days of your life.

After spending the night with Elvis, you’d woken up to an empty bed and empty room. You slept soundly through the entire night, not waking or dreaming one time that you could remember. You also couldn’t remember being that well rested in a long while. With a yawn, you stretched out before climbing out of bed and wrapping yourself in a blanket.

“Elvis?” you asked, although the cold silence of the hotel room gave away the fact that Elvis wasn't there.

When you padded into the kitchen, you found a note on the dining table.

Princess, I’m sorry to leave this way but we had to get going early this morning if we’re gonna make it all the way to Tennessee in time for the first show. I hope you enjoy your time off and I’ll see you in a few weeks. Take care of yourself and be ready for me when I get back. I’lll make up for all the time we missed out on. Here’s a number you can reach me at if you need anything. Or you can always call Jerry. D

Fifteen days later and you find yourself re-reading the note again. During his absence, your goal has been to refresh yourself, do some self-care, spend time with friends, and just enjoy some decompression time. But nothing has gone according to plan. The very first night spent without him ended with you, wasted and sobbing, getting sick into the toilet in your bathroom. Consequently, you spent the next day recovering from a nasty hangover. And the days after that were spent lounging around doing nothing but watching daytime television and reading magazines while you snacked.

You’ve been too embarrassed to reach out to Max and your other friends since you basically ditched them all for Elvis. Life feels so boring without him and whenever you do manage to get out and do an activity of some kind, you find yourself distracted by wishes that he were there to enjoy it with you. You considered returning home to LA for a while but, to be honest, you don’t have the energy to pack up and travel back. Plus, it’s been a while since you talked to Trixie. You never managed to call her back after she saw you on the magazine cover, which means you haven’t talked for several months. She’s called you a few times since then but you somehow always seem to be on your way out or too busy to answer. Now, it’s been so long that you’re too ashamed to answer.

Stuck at the hotel, everything reminds you of Elvis. His absence feels like an entire chunk of your life has been erased. Of course, you’re extremely proud of him and happy that he’s at least able to travel, if not internationally. You really do want him to enjoy his tour and all that but…fighting boredom isn’t the only reason you need him to come back.

Last night, one of the hotel staff brought up a massive stack of envelopes, many of them stamped with big terrifying red letters reading PAST DUE. You read through them all. Several threatened legal action if you didn’t pay back your debt or pay off your bills soon. Your gut reaction was to completely lose it and freak the fuck out, wondering how the hell you’re going to pay for it all. Then, of course, you remembered what your life is and what you “do” for a living.

You took a few moments to compose yourself before giving a call to Elvis at the number he’d left for you. No answer. You called again a few hours later and again this morning. No one ever answered. Next, you tried Jerry who answered and promised you that he’d relay the message. Something in his voice sounded off, distracted. You aren’t totally sure you trust him. It doesn’t matter anyway since, according to one of the letters, you have less than one week to pay your bill or you’ll be contacted by authorities of some kind. Elvis won't be back by then.

It’s not that you’re ungrateful. In fact, you are are very, very thankful for everything Elvis has given you and done for you. But this is a serious problem. If your bills aren’t paid…you shudder to think what might happen. Not to mention that these payments are probably only past due because you’ve moved all the way out to Las Vegas and forgotten to change your billing address. The companies probably sent the bills all the way over to Trixie in LA.

As these realizations begin to hit you, guilt and repentance swim around in your stomach. That’s why Trixie has been calling you. She was trying to get ahold of you to tell you that your bills were piling up. Now, you wish you would have answered. And then you feel even worse, knowing that you should have answered anyway, even if the call wasn’t an urgent warning regarding your financial stability.

Since Elvis won’t be back for another week, you’ll have to find some way to pay it yourself if you can’t get ahold of him. You’re starting to grow desperate and concerned. After trying the number Elvis left for the third time today and receiving no answer, you have enough panicked courage to finally call Trixie back. You sit, frozen, for about twenty minutes while the phone buzzes on the line as it waits for you to punch in the numbers. You anxiously twist the phone cord in your fingers as you wait for her to answer, hoping and praying that she’s at home and not busy. Finally, the line clicks on.

“Hello?” Trixie’s familiar, sweet voice chimes in.

“Trix! Oh my god, I’m so glad you answered! It’s me, Y/N!” you say excitedly, smiling as you grip the phone against your ear.

You’re greeted by silence and wait for several seconds until you start to wonder if you’ve been disconnected.

“Oh…hello,” she finally replies.

“Hi, um…sorry I’ve been distant lately. It’s been kind of crazy around here.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure.”

“Right…” you say awkwardly. Your palms are starting to sweat and you’re wondering if this is a terrible idea. “So, how are things at home? How are you?”

“I broke up with my boyfriend so not great.”

“Oh?” your eyebrows furrow. You didn’t even know she had a boyfriend… “I’m sorry. I didn’t know-”

“Yeah, you didn’t. Maybe if you’d ever bothered to return my calls you would have known. Or you could have answered them in the first place. Any of the five million times I’ve tried you.”

“Uh…” you stammer. You know she’s right but aren’t sure what you can say in response. You don’t need to worry about it, though, because she continues before you have a chance to say anything else.

“I’ve called you thirty-five times since the last time we talked, you know. We haven’t talked in seven months.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you fall into the chair by the phone, shocked. It can’t have been seven months….right?

“Oh…I-”

“Yeah. Have you even been paying attention? To anything other than yourself for the past seven months? It actually doesn’t even matter because I’ve been calling you to let you know that you have bills piling up here. You owe a lot of money to a lot of people and some of these are from several months ago. I tried to send them to you but I never knew if they went through because I couldn’t get ahold of you. Cause, you know, you stopped answering your phone.”

Silence falls as your brain tangles itself around trying to figure out what to say in response.

“Well, that’s actually why I called you…I was wondering if you might be able to,” you pause and gulp, wincing at the thought of what you have to do. “…lend me some money to help with them. I…”

You fade out as you immediately start to regret asking her to bail you out again. What right do you have to ask her this? After you’ve ignored her completely for the past, apparently, seven months?

“No, please, tell me,” she spits into the phone. “How’s it going up there? Daddy’s forgotten to pay your bills?”

You scoff. You can’t explain why, but her bringing up Elvis just makes your blood start to boil.

“Listen, Trixie, I’m sure it’s just a mix up. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls but-”

“What? You were too busy fucking a celebrity to talk to your best friend? The person who gave you somewhere to live for a year when you didn’t have anywhere else? The person who barely knew you at all and still welcomed you into her home, paid for your room and board, cooked for you, was literally your only friend. Y/N, I don’t know who you’ve become over the last seven months. I haven’t even gotten to talk to you, so how would I know. But I just don’t care to know anymore. I’m tired of waiting around to see if you’re actually going to talk to me. It sounds like you’re doing great up there. I saw you and Elvis on a magazine again a few weeks ago at some Vegas club or something. Really nice. I hope you’re enjoying yourself up there and good luck with your bills. I don’t think we should speak anymore. In fact, I’d prefer it if we didn’t.”

“Trixie! I….what? No! Wait, Trixie-”

“Sorry, but I can’t waste my time on someone who so clearly doesn’t care about me.”

The click that sounds when Trixie hangs up the phone is final and harsh. You frantically tap at the receiver, hoping that you’ve just lost each other, even though you know the truth is that she hung up on you. Completely and totally deflated, you put the receiver down and shuffle into your bedroom.

You have to do something about this and fast, probably without Elvis' help, unfortunately. Your eyes sadly trace the faded walls of the apartment that's now dirty, dusty, and not nearly as chic as it was when you moved in. You suddenly sit up straight when your eyes land on the diamond choker sitting on top of its velvet box. You stand up and walk over to it, reaching out to hold it in your fingers. You heave a deep breath, knowing what you have to do.

At least Elvis is returning soon…

─────

When Elvis flight finally lands, you get a call from Jerry letting you know that he’s back and wants to see you tonight. You can barely contain your excitement as you throw your magazine to the side and the bag of chips you’ve been snacking on all day. You take a shower and change into a brand new sexy black dress with Elvis’ favorite pair of deep red lingerie underneath. At the appointed time, you leave the apartment and make your way upstairs to his room. You take a deep breath and smile before sticking your key into the door and pushing through.

“Hi there,” you say, smiling widely as you step into the room.

Your smile quickly drops as your eyes land on the Colonel. Elvis lifts his head and your heart pangs at the noticeable bags under his eyes and disheveled hair. You glance over at the Colonel, who is glaring at you with a cigar between his fat lips.

“And what do you think you’re doin?” he asks, waddling over to you. “Just bargin into Mr. Presley’s room like this.”

“Mr. Presley asked for me,” you say coldly.

“Mr. Presley is in a business meeting,” he replies, blowing smoke in your face just as he’d done before. This time, you wave a hand between you to dispel it.

“Mr. Presley scheduled a business meeting with me at this time,” you respond, staring directly into his eyes. God, you really hate this man. “So I guess that means your time is up. Have a lovely day, Colonel.”

He sticks the cigar between his teeth and glances back at Elvis, who’s sitting lazily on the couch with his eyes half-closed. You peer around the Colonel and your eyebrows knit together. Your daddy doesn’t look well. The Colonel leans in closer to you and you glare at him, disgusted.

“You better watch yourself, little girl,” he growls, flicking some ash from his cigar onto the floor. “If you know what’s good for you.”

With that, he manuevers around you and exits the room. You watch over your shoulder with distaste as he shuts the door behind him. He’s up to something and he’s dangerous. You’ve always disliked him but now you know he’s more of an ass that you originally thought. Shaking your head, you recenter your attention on Elvis.

“Hi daddy,” you say with a smile.

“Hello,” Elvis replies dryly, his expression unchanging.

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” you say with a chuckle, tilting your head in the direction the Colonel left.

Elvis doesn’t respond. Your smile falters a little but you don’t lose hope just yet. After stepping further into the room, you prop yourself on the arm of the couch.

“So did you miss me?”

He doesn’t respond, clearly involved in reading a letter or something that he's holding in his hand.

“Daddy, did you miss me?” you repeat. No response again. You raise your voice. “Mr. Presley!”

“What? Oh, sorry, baby,” he says in a speech that’s almost slurred. He turns this time, although still neglects to lift his gaze to yours. You take a deep breath.

“Did you miss me?”

“Uh, yeah sure. Course I did,” he glances up at you as he sorts through his mail, shaking his head dismissively.

“Okay…well I missed you. A lot,” you say, sliding down next to him and threading your arms around his torso.

He barely reacts and, then a few seconds later, gently removes your arms from around his body. You gulp as you feel your heart starting to drop. You decide to stop messing around and just get to the point.

“Okay well, do you want me tonight or not?” you ask bluntly, placing your hands on your hips.

“Yeah, sure thing. I'm just gonna shower first,” he says, throwing you a tight-lipped smile.

He makes his way into the bathroom before you even have a chance to protest. You’re left, standing confusedly in the middle of the couch with your hands outstretched and mouth hanging open. With a deep sigh, you wander over into the bedroom and notice the stack of mail that Elvis carried in there with him. You sneak a little peek at what’s there. As you sort through it, you notice another receipt for Elvis Presley Enterprises. Glancing around the corner to make sure that Elvis is inside the shower, you then turn to the envelope and pull out the thin piece of paper to read.

Again, you see that EP Enterprises has paid over 50% of the total cost to the Colonel and for several other things that seem unnecessary. As your eyes hit the bottom of the receipt, you still don’t see any payments being made to you or any of the government or company agencies that you owe money to. Your mind flashes back to the very first time Elvis suggested this arrangement to you, what he said about paying your bills. That you wouldn't have to worry about a thing. Either he lied or something else is going on here. You think, too, about the Colonel’s threat. You better watch yourself, little girl. If you know what’s good for you. That man doesn’t scare you by any means. But he is starting to seriously piss you off. He has to be behind this. You just know it.

You hear the shower click off and clutch the paper tighter in your hands, wandering over toward the bed and taking a seat on it. After what feels like a lifetime of waiting, Elvis comes out from the shower with a towel around his waist. Although he hasn’t even been gone for a month, you can see the changes in his face and body. He looks disheveled, probably just tired from all the work and constant performances. But his stomach is rounder than it was, his face drawn, his hair long and unkempt. As you stare at him, you start to wonder if you’re looking at the same man you’ve known.

“Um, Mr. Presley,” you say.

Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him pop more pills into his mouth and down them with a glass of water. You resist the urge to say something about how many he’s taking; what do you know, anyway? You’re not a doctor. He glances over at you and hums in response.

“Could we…talk about something?” you ask nervously, clutching harder onto the receipt.

“Yeah. What’s up, sugar?” he asks, making his way toward the bed and sitting down next to you.

You turn toward him.

“Well it’s just that, uh…I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I received a stack of bills in the mail the other day. It was a big stack and they were all past due. When you first proposed the arrangement to me, you said that you’d be happy to pay my bills for me and Jerry also said that-”

“Whatcha got there?” he gestures to the crumpled piece of paper in your fingers and you crunch it tighter, suddenly realizing that you probably shouldn’t be reading your sugar daddy’s mail without his knowledge or permission.

“Nothing, just a tissue. Anyway, I just-”

“I’ll take care of it. Make me a list of what and how much and I’ll make sure it gets done. It was supposed to have been taken care of already,” he says, his eyebrows furrowing and his tongue running over his teeth.

“A-are you sure? I noticed that-”

“Done,” he says resolutely and you clamp your lips together.

You guess it’s none of your business, his financial decisions. Plus, he probably knows already anyway. Why wouldn’t he? It’s not like the Colonel is some distant man who never sees Elvis in person. Quite the opposite, in fact, as you know very well by now. You clutch the receipt in your fingers.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Not a problem, doll. Hey, we can get to it in a few minutes. I just need a rest real quick.”

“Don’t you even worry, big daddy,” you say with a smile, your insides starting to churn with excitement at the thought of getting down and dirty with him again. You’ve missed it so, so much. His sounds, his approval, his touch. “You just lay back and I’ll take care of everything.”

He lays back and you hop off the bed, lifting your top from your frame. With one finger nestled underneath your bra, you freeze as you realize that he’s deep asleep. His mouth is open, a thin line of drool already starting to trickle out. He’s also snoring loudly. You sigh and shake your head, confused by this new Elvis. He seems totally different, utterly disinterested. You assume again that he’s just tired from traveling and performing fifteen shows in as many days. At least, that’s what you desperately hope.

Unfortunately, you soon find out that he’s not just tired. He’s changed.

Over the next several months, you start to notice a number of Elvis’ bad habits growing exponentially worse Most frustrating among them being the drugs. It seems like almost every time you see Elvis nowadays, he’s popping one pill or another. When you meet him in the dressing room or in his room upstairs, he hardly even seems awake sometimes. You tried to be optimistic at the beginning, prompting him to take care of himself. You encouraged him not to take so many pills or to skip a show and give himself some rest. But he’s refused to listen to anything you have to say.

The sex has become unbearly boring and standard, even worse than it was in the beginning. He moves so much slower than he used to. It barely takes any effort on your part to make him finish anymore. You rarely find yourself interested in the sex and more often than not, you have to finish yourself off in the bathroom alone. Sometimes, he barely does anything and expects you to ride him to completion, after which he just falls asleep. Every time, you tuck him in and give him a kiss on the forehead, hoping one time he’ll somehow notice. And then you’ll see a glimmer of the man you used to know, the one you had grown so fond of.

But he never does.

He still buys you expensive gifts and, for a while, you didn't receive any more past due bills, so you figured he took care of your debt, which, of course, you appreciate. But you get to see him less and less these days. One night, when you’re tidying up his room, which tends to get very messy very often now, you discover a bra that doesn’t belong to you. You finally have to face the reality that he’s seeing other women.

As you’ve hashed over a thousand times, you know you’re not exclusive and with his lifestyle and the arrangement you agreed to, you never could be. But still…your heart wants something you just can’t have. Sometimes it feels like you’re starving for his attention, like your life has no meaning without him in it. But your whole relationship has become one giant business transaction with no meaning and no emotion.

When you started feeling even more isolated than the three weeks he was gone for the US tour, you found yourself returning to the backstage area as you tried to make other social connections. Or rekindle the ones you flushed down the toilet.

After several weeks, you finally managed to run into Max. You approached him with a big smile on your face and a friendly wave, but he hadn’t care one bit. He met you with a flat face and cold exterior. When you asked him how things were going, he responded with silence. Then he very emphatically and very bluntly told you that he wants nothing to do with you and none of the people in his circle do either. He went on a long rant about how he never actually knew you, about how you led him on and then dropped him like he was nothing. And he finally answered your long-wondered question. He always knew that your entire purpose there was to fuck Elvis. He’d left you standing still, frozen with guilt and shame, in the backstage hallway.

You also tried Trixie more than several times. And every time the phone rang and rang and rang with no answer. You don’t even know how she knows its you but she always seems to know. The singular time she picked up, she also hung up before you even had the chance to apologize.

In the last month, you’ve also started receiving past due statements again and you’ve never been more frustrated. Whenever you try to bring it up to Elvis, he just assures you that it’s being taken care of. To be quite honest, you don’t know that he even has the mental capacity to have it taken care of adequately anymore. And you’re sure the Colonel just tells him whatever he wants to hear, anyway.

Just six months after returning from the first US tour, Elvis informs you he will be leaving again for another one. The night before his departure, Jerry hand delivers a letter that explains everything. You sigh and shake your head.

“He couldn’t even have walked down here to tell me himself?” you ask, shaking your head.

Jerry just shrugs and shoots you a pitying look.

“Could I come in?” he asks and you shrug, opening the door wider for him. You sit on the couch together in silence for several minutes until he speaks.

“I’m sorry. I know he’s different,” Jerry says, gently taking your arm. “You can leave at any time, you know. You don’t have to stay here. I know it probably hasn’t been what you expected and it’s been…difficult for all of us to watch what’s happening to him. I don’t…know how to help him.”

“I’m glad it’s not just me who’s noticed. What’s wrong with him? He used to be so warm and loving and now…it’s like a different person came back in his place. The drugs, the girls, the guns…it’s all so-”

“I know. I think it’s the stress, the pressure. He has an addiction to performing, to being onstage, to being loved by the masses. The Colonel has him doing all these damn shows, these tours that are unhealthy and too busy, and Elvis just won’t listen to a thing I say.”

You nod.

“Did you know the Colonel takes 50% of Elvis’ earnings?”

“Yeah, I did. But how do you know about that?” he quirks an eyebrow at you.

“I’ve been sneaking peeks at his receipts. How is that legal?”

“Unfortunately, totally legal. Elvis signed his life away when he was 21. He didn’t know any better and things were different back then. Y/N, the Colonel is…a dangerous man. You cannot tell anyone about this, but…I’m looking into his background now. I’m very interested to see what I might find.”

“Jerry,” you start, unsure whether to continue, “I have a question. Elvis told me that he’s been paying my bills and my debts. But a few months ago I got past due statements. They went away for a while but I’ve started getting them again. Is it possible that Elvis doesn’t know where his own money is going?”

“Possible? I think it’s probable. His father’s the business manager but Vernon has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He’s completely overmatched in every way. He went to jail for tax fraud for god’s sake. Hey, I’ll look into it for you. I think it’s likely that the Colonel has been stopping those payments from going through.”

You nod.

“Yeah, I don’t think he likes me very much. I think he actually threatened me a while back,” you say.

“What did he say?”

“I don’t really remember, honestly. Something about ‘watching myself if I know what’s good for me.’”

Jerry nods, rubbing his fingers along his chin. You glance over at him and your eyebrows raise. You’ve never really paid attention to how handsome he is. You always knew, of course, that he’s good looking but…

You chat for a little while longer. You start to tell him about your struggles, the loneliness and the anxiety. Your weekly breakdowns triggered by the fact that you have no friends, no steady income that you can be sure of, and no romantic interests that make you feel good about yourself.

“I’m always here for you,” Jerry says, leaning forward and taking ahold of your hands. He squeezes them. “You know that, right?”

“Thanks, Jerry. You have no idea how much you’ve meant to me during this whole crazy thing,” you say, squeezing his fingers back. “I could never have done this without your support.”

His eyes flick down to your hand and the corner of his mouth quirks up in a small smile. You pull away and he gets ready to leave so he can finish up the rest of his work for the day.

Once Jerry is gone, you don’t know what to do with yourself other than flop on the couch and try not to have yet another breakdown out about your dwindling funds.

The next three weeks move slower than molasses as you pass your time with lots of sleep and not much of anything else. Elvis and Jerry are both gone on the second US tour. You manage to finish three novels and catch several movies at the theatre…by yourself. You don’t have the energy or social battery to even bother trying to make friends in Vegas anymore and all you really want is to go back home to Los Angeles. Back to when you were safe, happy, and healthy living with your best friend and in charge of your own schedule. As you lazily glance at the calendar, your head snaps up and you smile. Today is…

You pick up the phone and dial a number that you hope still belongs to the same person.

“Steve?” you ask when the line clicks on.

“This is he. May I ask who I’m speaking to?” your cousin’s familiar voice sounds on the other end of the line.

“Steve, thank god! It’s Y/N,” you say, leaning into the speaker of the telephone, as if that action will somehow give you comfort.

“Y/N! It’s so good to hear from you. I heard that you, er…took Elvis’ offer after all,” he says.

“Yeah, I did...” you reply with a gulp.

“How’s it…going?”

You pause for a few seconds, taking a deep breath and releasing it before responding.

“I’d rather not talk about it, if I’m being honest. Besides, I called to say happy birthday anyway! How are things going in Burbank? How are you doing?”

“Good, good. Sharon and I got engaged last month, actually,” he says and you can practically hear the happiness in his voice.

“Oh wow!” you respond excitedly, although you can practically feel your heart cracking into a million pieces at the thought of being so utterly alone. “That’s so great! Congratulations, Steve! When’s the wedding?”

“Seven months from Monday,” he says. “You’re invited, of course. We’re hoping to send invitations out soon but work’s been a bit busy, you know, Christmastime and all that.”

“Oh…I guess it is Christmas time, isn’t it?” you ask, the realization suddenly hitting that you’re already two weeks into December.

“Unbelievably, yeah. But enough about me. I really would like to know how you’re doing? Is…he taking care of your bills and things like he promised? I…actually came up to visit a few weeks ago but couldn’t get backstage to see him.”

“You…were here? Why didn’t you come see me? You could have stayed with me?”

“I….”

“What?”

“Well, you weren’t there?”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“No…I had to have been here. I moved here and I live here now. I haven’t left in…” your eyes widen as you think about it, “well, months. I was definitely here.”

“That’s so strange…the hotel staff told me that you were gone on a trip. I thought-”

“The hotel staff? Which hotel staff?”

“I…can’t remember, honestly. It was some big guy with a nametag on, so I assumed he was a staff member. Why do you ask?”

“Because I'd bet money that the Colonel told him to lie to you. He knows damn well that I’ve been here for the last two years. Every day for the last two years.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know…”

A few seconds of silence pass and you momentarily wonder if you’ve been disconnected before Steve speaks up again.

“Y/N, be careful up there. The Colonel’s a very bad, very dangerous man. I think he’s taking advantage of Elvis and I’d hate to think that he’s doing the same with you. Maybe you should…”

“Should what, Steve? Please tell me.”

“Maybe you should just pack up and come home. If you’re still in that much need of money then maybe I can help you out again. I’m sure I can find something for you-”

“No, Steve, it’s alright. Everything’s fine. If I need anything, I’ll be sure to let you know. But everything’s fine, I promise.”

“If you insist. Damnit. Hey, listen Y/N, I gotta go. Apparently we’ve had a crisis at the office, but I’ll give you a call later, okay? Feel free to reach me any time. I’m here if you need anything.”

“Will do. Oh, Steve!”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course.”

And the line clicks off. You put the phone down and curl into a ball on your bed, shutting your eyes and hoping to sleep through the next five days until Elvis has returned from his second US tour.

Sure enough, five days later, you receive news from the buzz around the casino and hotel that Elvis is arriving later in the afternoon. You feel intense shame and embarrassment about the fact that your entire being feels lit up with joy and happiness when you realize that you might finally be able to be held in his arms again. Nothing in you is even interested in being fucked or pleasured at this point. All you want is to touch his face, feel the softness of his hair, be held tightly in his strong arms, so close to his chest that you can feel his heart beat against your skin.

You wait all day for a phone call or a letter or something. You receive nothing. Not a damn thing. The next night passes the same and you wonder if he’s forgotten about you. On the third day, you decide to march right up to his room and confront him. Ironically, you finally get the call that afternoon, an invitation actually, to attend the late show that evening and then visit him afterward.

With excitement unmeasurable, you get yourself ready to meet him, all dolled up in your best makeup, which you take an extra hour and extra care to do perfectly, just the way you know he likes it. You also wear his favorite pair of lingerie and his favorite black dress. At the last minute, as you’re sliding a finger into your TCB ring, you get a lurching feeling in your stomach. You look up at yourself in the mirror and hold a hand up to your throat, dragging your fingers across the bare skin. It feels like something is missing, you know exactly what. Your outfit would be complete with it.

With a disappointed sigh, you make your way downstairs in perfect time for the show to start. You’re seated toward the back at a table almost in the darkness. You gulp in slight embarrassment before sitting down. While unhappy that it seems like Elvis is trying to hide you, you’re actually quite relieved to be sitting in the darkness with how you’ve chosen to dress and present yourself. Anyone passing by would probably automatically assume you’re some kind of prostitute. Isn’t that what you are, anyway? And should you feel more shame than you do?

You don’t have much time to speculate on it because the band strikes up a chord and the show starts. You smile. It’s been almost a whole year since you came down to enjoy a show. At the beginning of your residency there, you came down all the time to see his shows. But the novelty wore off quickly. The last time you attended a show was the vibrator incident...

This time, however, you actually find that you enjoy yourself quite a bit. With Elvis paying for everything, you order a full meal and a glass of wine. And without a vibrator in your panties, you can actually enjoy your meal and watch Elvis at his very best. You get to see an old version of Elvis. Not the man you'd known so intimately nor the one you’ve grown to despise over the past couple of months. This is the man you find yourself dragged toward, attracted to, entrapped by. This is the Elvis who got you to say yes so many months ago.

That is, until something happens, of course, to ruin all of that. You watch in horror as two random men from the audience run up onto the stage as if they’re going to attack Elvis. You jump out of your seat, your fingers flying up to your mouth as you watch, unable to do anything from where you’re seated. Luckily, they seem to just be overexcited fans. But you can’t help but notice Elvis reach into the tops of his boots for something, something you’ve definitely noticed he sneaks into his boots before he goes onstage. The guns. “Protection,” as he’d called it.

The two men are escorted out, walked right past your table. But you hardly even notice them. Your attention is held firmly on Elvis as his wild eyes fly around the stage and the audience. Your heart is pounding in your chest with adrenaline and fear. You reach up to feel it beat against your breast and feel overwhelmed by the sensation. Elvis stumbles around onstage, his face shadowed so that it appears hollow and haunted and…evil. He looks erratic, terrified and wrathful at the same time.

The reality of what could have happened hits you. You fall back into your seat as your chest starts to heave. Elvis could have died…been shot onstage. Suddenly, you’re thrown back to 1968 when you all watched Bobby Kennedy die on national television. All the fear from that moment, from watching someone’s life drain from their body, it all returns to you.

The show comes to an abrupt end when they escort Elvis offstage. You stand, grabbing your purse, and make your way toward the door where Stanley the security guard always stands. As soon as you approach, he holds up a hand telling you to stop.

“I’m sorry, Miss Y/L/N, but we’re not allowing anyone backstage right now. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. It’s probably a good idea for you to return to your room for the evening. If Mr. Presley wants to see you, I’m sure he’ll call,” Stanley mumbles, offering a small smile.

“Thanks Stanley,” you say and return the expression. “Will you just tell him that I’m here for him. If he needs me, that is.”

“I'm not sure that's within my pay grade, ma'am,” he replies, but he must have noticed your panicked expression because he adds, "But I'll certainly do what I can."

With a deep sigh, you make your way back upstairs to your room, where you crash on the couch and drop your head into your hands. You only have a few minutes to sulk before you get a telephone call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Jerry. He’s asking for you,” Jerry says and you breathe a sigh of relief. You know Elvis hadn’t gotten hurt or anything but you are intimately familiar with how unstable his mental state is right now.

“I’ll be right up,” you say and hang up before Jerry even has a chance to say goodbye.

When you emerge from the elevator, you immediately hear raised voices, Elvis’ and a woman’s. You don’t even bother waiting to come in, desperate to see him, to know that he’s fine, that he’s okay. A flurry of emotions swirl around in your stomach. You’re angry that people would dare try to hurt Elvis, you’re angry at Elvis for being who he is, you’re frustrated that you even have to go through this, you’re terrified for his safety, you’re scared of what’s to come, and most of all, you’re griefstricken at the thought of living a life without him.

As you make your way through the massive rooms, the screaming stops. Your eyebrows raise as your gaze falls on Priscilla Presley walking straight toward you. She holds your gaze, her eyes full of anger. You don’t back down, though. Normally, you would feel awkward and guilty seeing her. But at this point, you’ve grown to become so unhappy and possessive over Elvis that you couldn’t give a flying fuck what she thinks of you. He’s unhappy with her, anyway, that’s why you exist in the first place. You raise your neck and stare her down as she passes. As she nears you, you watch as her anger quickly fades into grief, plainly displayed on her face. You know any normal person would be feeling some guilt at this moment but, in all honesty, you don’t feel anything. You don’t care.

You waltz into the room to see Elvis sitting on the bed, already half-undressed and just in a pair of boxers. You immediately approach him, dropping to your knees between his legs. You raise your hands to his face, gently brushing his hair back from his forehead. You push your thumbs into his skin to massage it a little.

“Mmm,” he hums in approval.

“Are you alright?” you whisper.

“Mhmm, just fine,” he replies.

── tw | scroll to the bottom of the post to skip ──

“Can I help, at all?” you ask in your most seductive tone, stepping in front of him and running your hands smoothly down his chest.

In all honesty, you don’t really want to have sex. You aren't feeling very sexy right now at all. But you can tell that he needs it, needs something. You wouldn’t go as far as to say that he needs you but…he needs something that you believe you can provide. He lifts his blue eyes to yours, they’re more grey these days except for when he’s onstage performing. He doesn’t react, but you can see in his eyes that he wants it. You gently push him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him and starting to press kisses to his hot skin. He barely moves, allowing you to manipulate him easily.

He’s still sweaty from being onstage but you don’t mind. You’re used to it at this point and besides, it’s sexy as hell. You kiss down his neck, dragging your lips between pressing them down. You trail down his chest onto his stomach.

When your finger hooks into the waistband of his underwear, he jerks to life. His fingers curl around your arms and he pulls you up and then spins you around, shoving the top half of your body down on the bed, a little harshly but not it's not painful. You assume the familiar position, arching your back and cooperating to step through your panties as he pulls them off. He slides the fabric of your dress out of the way and you wait patiently until he slides into your folds.

You wince and clutch onto the sheets on the bed. You’re drier than normal. You're far too emotional to get wet enough, even with Elvis Presley behind you. He doesn’t seem to notice or care, though, because he starts to pump in and out of you mercilessly. You bury your head into the sheets, biting and tugging on the fabric as he slides in and out of you.

The air is silent aside from the sounds of your skin slapping together and Elvis’ quiet groans. As he drills into you, you can feel yourself loosening up just a tad. You release a few strained moans from the combination of pain and pleasure. The friction isn't very enjoyable but you remind yourself that this is your job, this is what you are to him. That this can help you, too.

His speed increases and you feel a tear slipping out of your eye, but whether it’s from the pain or the emotion, you aren’t sure. His fingers grip into your hair, pulling your head up. You experience a moment of relief and moan loudly. You want so badly for this to feel good.

You tilt your head to the side and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Before, you loved the way you looked in the mirror as he was fucking you. You were so turned on, so desperate for him, so fucked out. Now, you just look worn, sullen. Used. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, not wanting to face what you are. A slave to his sex. And now a slave to him.

Finally, you feel warmth flood your insides as Elvis finishes himself off. You twitch as you realize he's finished inside of you. He's never done that before. He grunts and leans over, his body weight pressing onto your back. When he rests his forehead between your shoulder blades, you feel your face screw up in grief. It’s so cheap, so pathetic, to grasp at this one moment of intimacy. But you do, all the same. He only remains there for a few moments before removing himself and going immediately into the bathroom. You remain in position until you hear the door shut and then fall over on your side.

Your shoulders begin to shake and you cry silently. Tears stream down your face, stinging your cheeks. When you pull yourself to sit up, you wince at the soreness of your heat. You reach down to touch yourself and bring a finger up. It's covered in a thick layer of Elvis' cum. The sight makes you both proud and ashamed, joyous and devastated. You invited him to do it and you don’t regret it. But...

───── tw ─────

You miss the man you used to know, the strong, passionate one you had fights with. The one who knew what he wanted, who he was, what you wanted. The one who cared, who took an interest in you, who had fun. This wasn’t sex between two people who wanted it. This was sex between an object and someone who just needed to feel something.

Your eyes lazily drift over to the framed picture of Lisa Marie and you think through everything that's happening. You wipe your tears away and sniff. Filled with intense rage, you stand and slam the picture face-first down onto the nightstand. You don’t want to see her. You don’t want her to see this. Why does she have to exist anyway? You stand with clenched fists, facing what you’ve done as your chest heaves. Suddenly, you’re filled with fear and panic. You kneel down and pick up the frame to see that the glass has shattered in a few spots.

“No, no, no,” you say as the tears start to steam down your face again.

You shakily lift some of the glass shards and attempt to piece them back together but it’s no use. You drop your head and the glass but not before one of the shards slices a small pinhole prick in your finger. Biting your lip in pain, you press your wounded finger to your chest and crawl back into the bed. You don’t even bother to tuck yourself in. You curl up into a ball and squeeze your eyes shut, hoping for sleep to take you away as soon as possible for as long as possible.

After a few minutes, you hear rummaging from the bathroom as Elvis comes back out. You don’t react when he touches you softly, so much softer than he was when he was fucking you fifteen minutes ago. You feel a warm, soft rag being drug over your body, cleaning up any bodily fluids that he’d left on you. You convulse when he hits your sore folds and he stops immediately, massaging his fingers into your shoulder. He doesn’t apologize, but gently, so so gently, presses the wet rag against you, dabbing up anything that might be leaking out.

Then, he’s gone again, only for a few seconds. When he returns, he gently lifts your legs and pulls the covers out from under them and then over your body. He tucks you in and then climbs in behind you, wrapping his warm arms around you. Normally, you would find this comforting and you’d be practically begging for this. But tonight, not so much. You really just want to be left alone, to vanish in thin air, to dissolve into nothing.

“You alright, baby?” he whispers, gently stroking your hair out of the way.

You squeeze your eyes tighter, not having the strength to respond. You hope he’ll just figure that you’re asleep. He sighs and gently strokes his knuckle down your cheek, pausing by your jaw. You feel him push his head against your neck and then the shudders of his body as he cries quietly. You feel your own tears slipping from your eyes, staining your cheeks with cold streaks of liquid. The last thought of the night is spent wondering how you both could have fallen so far.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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