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aconflagrationofmyown · 9 months

Text

but then…Gigi

Part 4 - A Big Daddy Elvis Fanfiction

Previous chapter link for context, picking up where we left off

I owe so much thanks to my friends for all their help and input and the joy they bring me, thanks to them and my precious followers this fluffy/wacky little universe even exists. I’ve never had so much fun on a collaboration before in my life, I love y’all so.

Warnings: 18+, sexual content and heavy themes… ok so this is smutty and fluffy, right? But still there are some things that might be offensive regarding narrator’s voice so I want to warn about those and distinguish them from my own opinions. For much of this part we are in Elvis’ head and, due to it being summer of ‘77 -it’s a bit of a rollercoaster in there. Please be warned there are throwaway lines reflecting poor self esteem, depression, misogyny, severe health issues and the use of the word fat to describe oneself negatively.

Enjoy

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Elvis feels a pang of sympathy for his boys’ hysteria when he runs into a crowd of fans as he himself sits panicked in the Stutz, engine off and his shades on, watching Gigi check that the coast is clear on the sidewalk and buzz into her apartment building -in just his jacket and panties. Her sandals are gone somewhere, too, probably back at Graceland. Only that anklet left on like some harem jangle.

Her sooties must be burning on the sunbaked concrete, maybe that’s why she’s skipping everywhere she goes like a damn foal. His blood pressure feels like it’s skyrocketing just watching this show and the fact she looks like she’s in her element terrifies and excites him and -getting to know Gigi is a dangerous hobby.

As shameless as a toddler that one, and every bit as unpersuaded about needing to give a shit about things like flashing her butt cheeks for all of Memphis.

Her tanned butt cheeks.

Which brings up all sorts of questions he’s too scared to ask and will have to address with Tammy. He’s sure she’s to blame for nude sunbathing, he just hopes that wildcat has enough decency to do it privately. Very privately. Hopefully in a bullet proof bunker if Gigi is with her. This girl has been directionless and fatherless for too long; Elvis’ mouth dries out in anticipation of being that guiding, molding, firm hand in her life -the rest of his body too sedated to respond normally although he feels that weird ass dribble his pecker has recently started to do when it’s very much willing but can’t physically swell to poke a gal. He thoroughly regrets not wearing underpants to catch some of this… horny… pre-cum…incontinence…the baby blue of his tracksuit showing a small stain on his leg. Just the size of a penny. Maybe a quarter.

He takes his glasses off and rubs at his sweaty eyes.

Gigi is standing in the opened doorway, waving him in with a huge, expectant smile on her face, and feeling something he hasn’t felt since 1955 sneakin’ into Barbra’s room, he lumbers out his side of the car and doesn’t even bother to make sure no one’s looking, even though she whipped her head around to clock their surroundings like top paid security for his sake. If someone sees and thinks he’s going into a college girl’s dorm to corrupt her then they’d be right, and it'll make far prettier gossip than what’s coming out in Red’s book next month.

He slips past her and she runs her hand along his chest as he goes by, giddy and fond. She waves to someone behind his back,

“Hey Paolo! Good afternoon!” Elvis turns just in time to see an old shriveled man in an undershirt waving wildly at her as the door shuts.

“Who’s that?”

“Our repairman. Sweetest little man.” Gigi gushes and Elvis motions for her to lead the way up the stairs while speculating with nauseating surety on what Gigi might be found wearing -or not wearing- when dear sweet shriveled perverted Paolo makes up a problem with her sink and comes into her apartment. “He’s taught me how to make Limoncello jello! You won’t find anything more refreshing!”

“How very epicurean for a regular, ole handyman.” he can’t help but grumble, usually highly self-aware and unbiased for the potential learnedness of common folks. He knows he’s one. But right now he wants to make a carpet from Paolo’s nose hair.

“What does epicurean mean?” Gigi doens’t without missing a beat as she unlocks her own front door.

Now they’re back on solid, Elvis-worthy ground, he can smile indulgently as he enters her space and explain, “Somebody who likes to in-duuulge in the luxurious and the sensuuaal, it was a whole philosophy.”

“Oooh, that explains why I didn’t understand.” she giggles, “I’ve flunked philosophy twice and I’ve got a whole pile of papers over there that’s supposed to be homework but a hero of mine invited me to go swimming at his place so, there they sit!” she shows off a rather alarming stack of papers next to the poorly made up bed, half hidden by the swim suits and cut offs strewn about the carpet. “Sorry for the mess, a lotta the girls got ready over here and wrecked it. Half of it is mine though, you should’ve seen the things they suggested I wear for you! Thongs, Elvis! Actual thongs! And here I was unsure if you felt just fatherly towards me or what so I- I didn’t wear a thong.”

Elvis takes a seat on her bed since he figures they’re now past being modest about what they’re gonna do and asks, “What’s a thong?”

“You don’t- it’s this sorta thing.” Gigi is a little shocked that this man of the world doesn't know such a thing and spins around a few times before finding a very small scrap of fabric and bending over, she picks it up. Elvis forgets what she was getting off the floor for a few minutes before she starts spreading the fabric strings apart and pronouncing, “This is a thong!”

Elvis squints his eyes as if trying to see a ship on the edge of the horizon or something, “I don’t get it.” he says at last, “How’s it work? Go around your neck?”

“No, silly!” she giggles even harder in shocked exasperation, “It’s panties.”

“No way in hell.” he sounds awed, “No way, how in tarnation does that work?”

“They’re like…very little, small, tiny panties!” she explains with a hyped tone as if the more enthusiastic she is the quicker he’ll get the mechanism.

“That -those ain’t gonna hold or cover nothin’.” he insists, “Now you’re the one pullin’ my leg.” he notices there’s a magazine with his face on it stashed under the teetering bedside lamp and makes mental note of that before leaning back against her massive stuffed bear.

“They’re not supposed to work, they’re supposed to be sexy?” she tries again before playfully putting them on her head and striking a pose.

“Sexy, hmm?” he rumbles, his eyes twinkling and she knows she’s got his interest at least, whether he’s fibbing ignorance on knowing about thongs or not, she can’t tell. Suddenly it strikes her that Elvis Presley himself is lounging on her bed, leaned against the stuffy she grinds herself on to the thought of him pretty regularly. Suddenly having his jacket zipped at all feels oppressive from the rush of heat that sight floods her with.

“If they were for comfort we’d just go without.” she laughs, “They dig up into your…” she looks about before dropping her voice and taking a couple steps closer to him, “butt crack.” she blushes furiously at having to name it and his fingers itch to do unspeakable things to this little girl.

“Show me.” he says, low and steady and a little removed, just cool enough to be commanding, just warm enough to make her feel (very) admired. He sees her sweet blush turn into droopy lidded arousal before his very eyes and with meek acceptance she hooks her fingers into her swim bottoms without a pause.

They drop to the floor in a nylon puddle between her legs. Just like that. Simple as that, her bare little pussy lips are peaking out from his jacket at him and she smiles gently at his shock as she hooks her legs through the thong’s leg holes and shimmy’s the stupid excuse for lingerie up her stems. “It’s just you, daddy.” she explains in a confidential whisper that melts his heart.

“Yeah, jus’ f’me, baby girl.” he makes a pronouncement of his own, hushed and boyish and her own heart feels too big for her chest at the way his blue eyes somehow soften in wonder at her exposed self. She had expected something rougher, ravenous, impetuous. Not this revenant appreciation that bends his whole frame towards her with open mouthed puffs of longing. He aches, wishing he’d brought his Polaroid to snap this memory forever, add it to his collection. A little something tangible he could thumb at it in the future and remember this night when an terribly hot, painfully young, big tittied woman had wanted him.

“Will ya do a lil spin f’me? Wouldn’t want that wedgie to go unappreciated, now would we? So sweet to try it on for me.” he coos and then hums deep and appreciative as she does a couple slow spins for him, that humm she’s only ever heard in amplified concert footage sending sparks to her very toes.

“You like them?” she asks, toes curling in nervousness for his verdict.

He lounges back and strokes his mouth a few times while cocking his head to the side. She’s breathing so heavy he thinks if he even blew on her she’d come. “They’re practical.” he decides definitively.

“Are they?” she sighs with relief.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles soberly, “quite. For what we’re up here to do, they’re practical.” he adds this slowly and doesn't miss her shudder or the way her eyes light up in relief that they’re getting to the point. He likes that she’s letting him lead, she’s a good girl. “Step closer baby.” he stays lounging so she does all the work and when she gets to the edge of the bed he keeps motioning with his fingers until she’s kneeling on it herself, clambering forward over his lap. “See, when a man makes a meal of a lady’s lil garden, s’real important to have unrestricted access.” he proves his point by slipping his index finger along that abominably small seam of fabric that’s poofy and filled out with bare labia lips.

“Daddy.” she wails at the contact, shaking apart already and that along with her little place has his head thudding some kinda way. She’s gripping onto his neck, near clawing whatever part of him she can grab, close to tears again like a child not getting what she wants. The art of the tease seems lost on her, she’s so hungry.

He’s gotta ask. “Honey, y-yo- honey you ain’t actin’ younger for my sake, are ya?”

“Oh no,” her face turns down again and he’s done it again, insulted her somehow, “you find me immature?”

“No!” he shouts and then tries to moderate himself, “No, no it’s jus’ that -you’re a baby, thas all.”

“Well,” her grin is guileless, “you’ll just have to bear with me, big daddy, I’m all so excited I’ve got Elvis Presley in my room! Elvis Presley! You’re Elvis Presley.”

“I-I-I am.” he admits, perturbed, “What’s wi- why Big Daddy?”

“Cause that’s what you are!” She says it like she’s assuring a pageant queen she won the prized title. “Elvis Presley’s about to eat my pussy.” she murmurs to herself as she kicks her feet and he recalls yet again that he is sat down on her fluffy pink bed for a reason. He tips her over into the sheets.

“So uh, you’ve thought of this before, hmm?” he smirks slyly and reaches out to clasp an ankle in his big, ringed hand, his tanned digits encircling it entirely and he thumbs at the veiny soft spot beneath the ankle.

Gigi moans at his slight pressure.

“That’s a pressure point for the reproductive system, did you know that sir?” she is as eager about information as he is, and clever too.

“So that’s why all the girls lose it.” he hums with a laugh, “No, Gigi, I didn’t know tha’, you like gettin’ rubbed?”

“YES!” she sighs so loudly it’s like a little wind tunnel through the room, “Though it doesn’t happen much.” That makes his heart hurt in sympathy and he adds his other hand to knead her toned calf, those legs of hers spreading jello, just like he calculated they would, “I love to rub folks though! Love givin’ people rubs.”

“Who do ya rub?” Elvis is cross at this new information.

“Oh, anybody who needs it!” she makes it worse.

“Lotta demand for that at Uni?”

“Yeah, so many sore athletes after games.” she is perfectly sober about it, while so enthused he wants to murder every person those sweet hands have descended upon in soothing kindness. “But I think you’re the best I have ever had do it to me, oh Lord you’ve got magic in those hands.”

He’s tempted to tell her how true that statement is but he can’t bear her laughing at him right now so he leans further across the bed and inches towards her knees with his squeezes and tries to elicit more of those moans.

“Oh god I can’t believe Elvis Presley is rubbing my legs.” she gasps again to the ceiling and it’s this youthful narration of her life happenings that makes him think of his Yisa and if he could he’d put both of these little darlings back into their fragile eggs to keep them away from the cruel world.

“So, you done thought of this before, baby girl?” he asks, casting a little smug look over at that ponderous stack of his records and the TV set stationed right at the foot of her bed. He knows the answer already, thanks to Tammy, but it nags him, the question of which Elvis she was touching herself to after her first visit to his house. Her closed eyes and near drooling mouth give him the idea that if he’s good enough at this, puts enough effort into being what he used to be naturally, she can keep those pretty eyes closed and he can morph back into whatever daydream she’s once had. He could give this pretty little girl a little time capsule and before she’s fully awake, slip away again, leave before she recalls it was the gift of an old man, his potency gone to seed but his love for women and their secret parts just as strong.

He bends over, gut digging into his diaphragm and knocking out his wind, presses a kiss to the inside of her knee. “Tell’me ‘bout when you thought of me.” he murmurs into her warm skin. He notices he leaves goosebumbs in the wake of his touch.

“Mmm?” she’s goners with just this firm kneading of her limbs, breathing heavy and sedated from lust.

“Have ya thought of me when you’ve played with yourself?” he’s a little sterner than he should be, just because he knows the answer and wants an honest reply.

“Oh yes.” she gives it, unabashed.

“Is it my movies? Ya watch my movies when ya touch y’self?” he prods, working up to that baby soft stretch of inner thigh that still seems like the most fragile of all God’s creation, like cotton Candy holding ligament and muscle together by some miracle. “Or ya prop up that record right there?” he pulls his head up long enough to point at the foremost record cover in the stack -Live From Madison Square Garden, it reads, and features him silhouetted against black, crouched in a white jumpsuit.

A more mature option; interesting.

Gigi opens her eyes and cranes her head to see what he’s pointing at. “Oh, yeah, sometimes that one,” she nods, “it’s the closest thing I could find.”

“Closest to what, the genuine article?” he snickers in judgment, “It’s goddamn cardboard, at least watch a movie like a normal pervert.”

“The closest to how you are now!” she pouts adamantly, “You’re so…smooth… in all your movies. Nothing like how I know ya when you drive past on the street.”

Well, that’s something else, even if Elvis doesn't quite get what that something is. It’s absurd, the fact she existed all along on some sidewalk he sped past. “How’s that now, honey?” he asks.

“I couldn’t find anything closer to what you are now!” she explains, “Nothing since Aloha and -well I like that one, don’t get me wrong but I,” she bites her lip and a skittish flinch settles into her eyes.

“What about that one, darlin?” he begs softly.

“Well I like how hairy and strong ya look but,” she doesn’t look down or away when she gets to her point, instead she bends forward to be nearer to him, to hold his hands as they lay on her legs, to peer into his eyes gently, “you seem too sad in it for me to -to use it like that.”

He’s touched, so much so he swallows hard and dips his head to kiss her knobby little kneecap. “T-that were a rough time in my life.” he admits and his voice has gone wrecked. It is odd beyond words how he feels like she’s a child to be protected but just like a child at a sleepover he can duck under the covers and admit his worst fears to her.

It all goes back to being proportionally heartbreaking as Gigi leans forward and makes him lean back, clambering methodically back into his lack as if she owns the damn space, holding his furry cheeks tenderly as she licks those luscious lips and slots them against his. This he is familiar with, nothing odd at all about this age old ritual of him being seductively depressed and a girl soothing it away with her tongue and hands in his hair.

He allows himself the liberty of stroking her bare back beneath his jacket, figuring if he’s gonna lick beaver he might as well do a little seducing beforehand, cherish her like she deserves, give them both the works. As much as he can give with this dull headache and the meds making him feel so leaden he could fall asleep in seconds. He takes a breath and tries to clear his head, focusing on kissing her well, kissing her better than any of those stupid young jocks ever managed.

Back at making a case to her that he could make her happy. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying that argument when a couple decades worth of broken hearts and homes behind him suggest otherwise.

“Wanna see what I used to pretend it was you?” she tempts against his lips as they surface for air, sounding so demure yet utterly unrepentant even as she confides, “After you petted me and sent me home I needed you so bad, couldn’t find anything that felt like you now, so I shut the tv right off. Grabbed my stuffy ‘cause he was fuzzy and had a belly like you and then I grabbed…here, wait here, don’t you move now!“

Her little butt is already bouncing out the room into the en-suite before she finishes the sentence and he is left to sit on the bed and await her return, processing the fact she had wanted hair and a corpulent figure.

Bizzare taste, definitely dealing with father issues, painfully sweet.

He groans in recognition that she’s entirely to his own taste.

She comes back holding the most bulbous bottle of shampoo he’s ever seen in his life. The size of his damn fist easily, bright yellow and shaped at the top like like a lemon an- hell it’s even named “Lemon-Something-Or-Other”.

“I used this!” she proclaims with a giggle that jiggles her whole body.

Elvis just stares, torn between impressed and horrified. “You’re tellin’ me that…thang…fit up your lil cooch?”

“Well, no,” she admits, mood immediately deflating in disappointment with herself, “but I’m working on it! Or maybe I don’t have to, now that I’ve got the real thing, as you call it!”

Gigi bites her lip and winks in an attempt to be seductive and it’s the most ludicrously jarring thing Elvis can imagine, he roars with laughter at her art of being a cock tease without trying and a total clown when she does try.

Oh fuck he’s in love. Yeah, already established that awhile back but, it’s just, it’s hitting him again.

“I think you’ll find the real thing a bit disappointin’ by comparison.” he wheezes, too amused to be insecure.

“Oh really?” she perks up in palpable relief, “Oh thank jesus! That thing’s huge and I was gonna try for you but- but -but it’s huge! And I was just gauging from what I saw floppin’ around in your tracksuit that night and I was trying to not be obvious, so I couldn’t exactly clock it real good but it looked awfully wide, like a paper towel roll when it’s halfway gone and this was the only thing I could find like it, I wasn’t going to use anything of Tammy’s and besides they weren’t fat either so I just…” She trails off with a shrug, still standing there before him holding the fuckin’ Lemon Drop Shampoo.

She’d tried not to be obvious, she says, but he’d caught her staring well below his belt half a dozen times in two days. “So,” Elvis is still wiping the tears of amusement from his eyes, “so ya used a shampoo bottle and a teddy bear.”

“Yeah.”

“And did it work?” his eyes darken at the prospect of hearing her tell him this naughty story.

“Sorta.”

“How can it ‘sorta’ work?”

“I came,” Gigi sighs, “but I felt so empty..after. Cried myself to sleep” her embarrassed giggle does not deceive him from the certainty that she’s telling the truth.

“Oh baby, what’re we gonna do with you?” he asks her and God Almighty all at once.

“Hold me, please?” she whispers.

“Course, baby. Nothin’ I’d rather do, get over here,” He holds out his arms and she cruises in at a deceptively fast speed, colliding back into his chest and tucking her face into the crease of his neck, she’s pressing kisses there into that sweaty fold and he rubs her back, traces the dip of her waist, the slow curve outwards of her hips, thumbs at the flimsy material of her panties. Feeling her soft skin and treasuring it. Wondering what she’s thinking and not knowing she’s thanking God she gets to be held by him.

“You make feel so safe.” her breath ghosts over his face and he’s not sure how it’s so fresh and lovely after scarfing down burgers and cherry coke but he can’t get enough and he grabs her face as gently as he can manage with this much wonder filling him in a rush.

He’s pretty sure she ain’t ever had a chance to kiss with tongue, she’s eager to slip hers in but she’s got that petrified immobility of a gal who’s never gotten the chance to give and take, just give while some stupid rash boy slobbers and knocks her teeth.

Elvis is quite good with his tongue.

He flicks at her tongue, he waits, taps her butt until she gets his prompt. She flicks. He trails it alongside her own, he waits. He taps. She mimics. They get a good commerce going and soon she’s squirming and writhing in his lap while he stays put, his patience and experience a buoy for her as she flounders with so much desire she doesn’t know how to cope beyond undulating against him and tugging at his hair, their mouths wide and uncaring, devouring.

It’s fun with a girl leveraging down on him from his lap, one might think it would put him at a disadvantage but it doesn’t, he turns her silly head with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, and she’s just a dolly up there for him to work against his mouth. Rather like how he’s gonna work her pussy if they make it that far. For now, there’s this age old dance and her pretty breaths.

He sucks her tongue and she lets out a cry that’s distorted by the absence of any control over her own tongue and suddenly he can feel her move more frantically, fumbling between them until he hears the zzzz of the zipper as she undoes her jacket front and frees her full breasts like the thin cloth was suffocating her. It becomes clearer what she needs when she continues to fumble between them, unsatisfied, until he feels his own taught closure opening and the fan air hits him and goosebumps spread and shame flares and then it’s unity. Their chests meeting, pressing, soft and warm and she shudders against him like she just touched a force field.

She mewls into his mouth again and traces his puffy lips with the tip of her tongue while he breathes. “Feels so right.” he realizes in a mumble.

“Mhmm.” she says as she presses more kisses to his panting mouth. Gigi reaches between them once more and he watches cross eyed from the closeness as she hefts one boob up and presses it between them more firmly, before repeating the procedure with the other until, until they are smashed to her satisfaction. Then she starts grinding, those fat titties of hers, against him with the rest of her- against his hairy, saggy man boobs, she’s dragging her nipples across him and worrying them red with his rough texture, her toes curling from the friction. Her nipples are pebbled and she’s crying out, can’t stop moaning or calling for God because he feels so good against her. Cradling her boob her fingers press selfishly against one of his own nipples and lil Elvis wants to fight against his induced state, desperate to twitch for this pretty girl’s attention. “Oh god, you’re so hairy, like a nest! So perfect and manly and, I’m gonna, let me, let me please, please oh god, feels so good!” she’s working herself up to a squealing frenzy going over one particular patch of ratted curls… from…rubbing her pretty nipples on his chest hair.

Elvis just sits there and computes, watches, like a green boy, Gigi’s cradled boobs, her gaping mouth, her long throat and her cramping widdle sooties. God, what he’d give to suck those curling little piggies.

He’s hot as a furnace, this man, and those coarse, wiry curls are zapping her already throbbing nipples until Gigi can’t seem to breathe, so much sensation crowding her senses but not where she needs. She grinds down on him, where they’ll join so perfectly, and she feels that perfectly fat cock of his wedged on top of his thick thighs that he can’t manspread for once with her on top of him. She reaches down and positions him through the silky track bottom until she can slide along, feeling the width of him parting her pussy lips even with the thong’s fabric obstructing. His pants are sticky to touch, even though he feels too heavy and floppy to be fully hard.

Elvis should kiss her again. Warn her he ain’t good for nothin’ before she gets her hopes up and he gets to humiliate himself like some useless old fuck.

“Daddy, daddy fill me up, daddy.” she beats him to it in the prettiest little beg he’s ever heard.

“Oh Gigi.” he groans compassionately before grabbing her hand and bringing it up away from his messy lil pecker, “I’s gone lick you, don’t you recall?”

“Yes but I’m past that, I need you inside me!” she gasps, grin growing by the second.

“Ah, yeah, well baby it’s a big deal, takin’ innocence and uh-“ he scratches the back of his head and she escapes his hold and her hand is back to it, squeezing his cock and it really does feel nice, in a head scratch sorta way. “Look, Gigi, honey, I’m sorry but lil Elvis is shy tonight.” he holds his breath as she slowly processes this.

She doesn’t retract her hand as she registers what he’s saying. “Aww, but I can kiss him!”

“M-m-maybe some other time?” he pleads like he’s asking a child to please let him get away with just five bedtime stories. Six is overkill and Daddy has work tomorrow.

She pouts briefly before bringing her sticky hand up to her mouth and licking her fingers like a barbarian. That sight alone almost fixes his damn ED. Gigi likes the light taste of him, humming in approval at the first taste like a baby trying candy for the first time.

“T-t-that means he likes ya, though.” he assures her like an idiot and she smiles around her digits.

She’s very sober and a little mournful, the way she keeps looking at him, not at all petulant or even the slightest bit contemptuous, just concerned and it primes some pump inside him to explain more than he ever should but he can’t seem to stop the words as they come out, “Had a migraine this mornin’ before ya came over and I wanted to be in ship-shape for some fun -fun with you- so I had to take some lil helpers for the head and they, well, they, they mess with…that.” he motions to his lap.

“Awww,” she laments, heartbroken as if he had to endure having his head sawn clean off, “you had a migraine? And you still had us over? Oh poor, sweet daddy!” she shifting in his lap to rub at the back of his head and into his hair and he tries to mumble assurances that it’s better now but they get lost in the glorious blubber of her frankly unnecessarily huge breasts that happen to be smashed in his face as she attends to his head. “I’ll put some oils on it- I’ve got a bathtub, we could put you in tha-”

“-Baby girl,” He laughs, excavating his chin from her cleavage, “it’s better now, I was just explainin’ the faulty mechanics. I ain’t always so stove up, didn’t want you thinking-“

“Oh I wouldn’t care!” she gushes intensely and he’s very worried that streak of the insane fan in her is larger than he thought but it’s too late, she’s caught him in her big tittied, huge nippled, anklet wearing trap, “I’d lick you and suck you and wiggle you inside me soft no matter what, all my days! I don’t care!”

“T-that’s real touching.” he murmurs in a daze. She’s perfect, every man’s wet dream - and he’s the damn lucky bastard that gets to have her. And he can’t even make full use of her.

“I’m gonna give you a back massage with some marjoram oil-“

“No, no you’re not.” he grabs at her to keep her forcefully on his lap, “I don’t need no hippy potions, I ain’t no witch’s experiment or an ole man. I’m here to eat beaver. Or…baby seal, with that bald thing.”

“You sure? I-“

“Gigi, be good.” he puts his finger to her lips and she freezes like a chastised bambi. “Good baby girl. Now you lay back f’me and spread those pretty legs. A man needs room to work his magic.”

“Ok.” she agrees in an excited whisper and tips out of his lap sideways onto the sheets, giving him a full view of her -nearly- naked self for the first time, completely serene and without artifice. He knew she'd be even worse without clothes, worse for his obsession and his indulgence and everything else but this -this is an Angel.

God, he really adores women. Best idea ever to make ‘em, and to make them with fat boobies and lil holes to rub peckers into and sweet faces to paint slimey and cute widdle toes to rub your balls against.

“Ok, let’s see what we’re workin’ with here.” he smirks and gets on his belly with a grunt, heaving himself up the bedsheets and in between her long legs, taking his fingers and moving aside that stupid little string they call underwear these days. “Oh lord, look at that.” he appreciates the pretty pink beauty of her and the smooth pale skin of her kitty, so delicate and girly and -he’s a little smitten. More than he expected. Which was an oversight with the way she keeps blowing his hopes out of the water.

“You’re the prettiest thing I ever did lay eyes on, sweetheart.” he swears with his whole heart, shuffling in closer and kissing her thigh.

Gigi cranes her neck and unsatisfied with the narrowed visuals says, “Wait, lemme prop up.” and stuffs a few pillows behind her back and sits up, legs spread wide and her smile pleased like she’s about to watch her favorite film, “Ok, now I can watch you. Go ahead, daddy.”

“Umm, alright.” he clears his head once more at the thought of her wanting to watch and dives in. Somehow he gets the feeling if he doesn’t go for it she’ll come in seconds anyway she’s so high strung and then he’ll have barely gotten his taste.

Furry, silky, warm -that’s how his hair and head feel beneath her hands, his fuzzy sideburns and his hair so little styled after the pool fluffs and tufts adorably and his cheeks puff out with his vigorous exertions and his sideburns chafe her thighs and his hands are everywhere at once -Gigi watches all these things and marvels in her heart at it. He’s very voracious about it while still having a great deal of -nuance- to it. Like a man who is in a watermelon eating competition, he may look rabid but if he’s won a few then he must have a calculated method down amid the mess.

The predominant feeling is comfortable intimacy. They are both surprised by it, she by the naturalness of watching the most famous face on planet earth smeared from her pleasure and rapturously content with her taste, he with the pleasant rightness of her legs squeezing his shoulders snuggly and her hands petting his hair away from his sweaty forehead. His scalp sweats the more he works and she rubs his neck as if mindful of the lurking migraine, as if she can only thank him for his touches by returning them.

She praises his tongue in breathy awe, “so long and pink and wet and oh-“

Nose buried in pink and wet and sweet womanliness Elvis hums his agreement. Peeking up through his lashes he can see the one hand not cradling his head is industriously tugging on those dark, large nipples of hers. He grinds himself against the bed on pure instinct. Another day, another night, he’s gotta get those large nipples of hers in his mouth.

She calls him beautiful. Again and again. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful, worse in person, more than I ever imagined, in my wildest-“

Again and again. Beautiful, she says. More than dreams. More, he’s more and more till Gigi’s praise dissolve into shrieks and pants, screams that whimper out into the low apartment ceiling as the afternoon sun dims, as he keeps going until they build again. And again, her hips are nothing if not insistent on grinding up against his mouth. The room smells of sweat and pleasure and sun-in. She’s vocal in her gratitude, persistent in returning his touch, petting him to say thank you when she finds she can’t form coherent sentences.

Eventually there is no more.

Just peace, and him, heaving back his breath against her thighs in a pussy-drunk stupor, and her shaking from seizing one too many times. His scalp is burning beneath her hands, his neck too. Inflamed and angry, she thinks of how much he loves to give. Wished she’d looked at the clock, something to tell the girls about. Just how many minutes, hours, days? he’d spent pleasing her.

“Good?” he asks in a hopeful little slur and the pink of his cheeks and the shiny glimmer on his nose is so childlike and content in his pouty snooze that her heart melts and she curls over him as best she can and squeezes.

“It was everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes into his burning ear, “I’m hooked.”

His laugh rumbles the whole bed, “Me too, baby girl.”

Their skin is sticky and tacky, they adhere to each other in their embrace. He is soothed by such a clasp as theirs while the longer he lays on his stomach the more keenly aware he is of how it hurts. Now’s the time to roll over and mention something about needing to get back. Now would be it, but for some reason the words don’t come and he lays on his knotted gut, suppressing winces and biting his lip against the pinches, trying to recall the sweetness of her, what made this worth it. Her breath fans his neck, wafting across his cheek -cuddle bug, he thinks, fond. Home, he should go home, but never has it felt so utterly foreign. Like a figment of what he wants and needs, like Christmas morning without your mama. A house is just a shell without heart. He wonders if his boys have got the front den cleaned yet of barbecue and would-be-in-laws.

“Do you need to get off your…head?” Gigi whispers softly and it startles him. She’s got a point, all his blood is rushing to his brain the way he’s laying.

“Probably should.” he grunts and slowly, like a pair of cats, they uncurl from around each other to be face to face for the first time since they shared such pleasure. They’re both a little pink and their smiles are too wide. He wonders at the happiness she’s releasing, marveling that he put it there. He’s got to be careful or it won’t be too long before this little girl realizes she’s got him wrapped around her finger already.

She rubs her nose against his. Another way to kiss.

She asks him if he needs a drink.

“I’ll help you with your philosophy homework.” He promises instead, it’s a reason to see her again. And soon. A reason to see her again and a hint it can’t be tonight.

Tonight he needs his pills, his bed, an enema and god knows what else just to make it till morning. He could cry from how badly he wants to be spontaneous, to go to a girl’s place, make love, cuddle like this and when he says he has to go and her eyes well up with tears at the prospect of his absence -he’d like to be able to say he can stay.

“Hush it’s alright, I’ll stay. I’ve got you, no one’s gonna ever leave you cold again.” something like that. Instead he says he can help with her test. Instead he tries to fool himself into being something less than heartbroken at how even the simplest thing in his life has to be a big production.

“Will you really?” Gigi’s face lights up at his piss poor offer.

“Promise.” he repeats.

“And will you promise me you’ll let me repay you?” She presses slyly, her hand petting down his chest and over the swell of his gut. Some childlike weariness in him wants her to rub it better. He remembers feeling the same way as a child regarding his mother’s touch and despite the fact that Gigi’s a baby girl - his baby girl - he trusts she’d make one Gladys Love Presley proud, doing her best to take care of him.

“Mmmaybe.” he looks down at her with playful suspicion.

“Promise me!” she demands, kicking her feet and flipping over to look down at him, swinging a leg to straddle him again.

He can’t help the wince his face flashes at the pressure of her hands from that high vantage. She flings them off him like she’s been burned, likes she’s the one who got hurt. “Oh shoot, sorry, sorry.” she gasps, her eyes wide and blue and tearful, “It’s bad, huh?”

As if not being able to get it up weren’t chastisement enough for his ego, now there’s this. “Uh huh.” he grits and the stab passes for the moment.

“Do you have something for it?” she hopes, “Do you need to go home?.”

There’s the out he needs. Didn’t even have to say it himself. Melancholy descends like fog over his soul but he reminds himself it is what is, he’s better off than most. So what if he can’t have sleepovers on whim or shit like a normal human or skip having his blood pressure checked every goddamn morning -he has a lot, and he got to eat Gigi’s silky smooth bare pussy. Today was a good day. Not even a wash, it was a good day, she made it a good day.

“Yeah, I need to get home.” he sounds every bit as despondent as he feels about it and he hopes she’ll take that as the compliment intended.

“Ok!” she chirps without missing a beat, jumping up in nothing but his open jacket, skipping out the bedroom door, left turn into what seems to be the kitchen.

Well, she handled that better than expected. Elvis almost hopes she’s still orgasm-happy and it doesn’t reflect her readiness to have him out of her place. He idly flicks at the stack of papers to get some impression of where the test is stumping her. He fidgets with his zipper and closes his jacket back up, coloring at the memory of letting her expose him like that.

She comes bouncing back within the minute holding a glass of water and presenting it with authority, “Now you just drink this daddy, it’s got fennel tincture in it and will help your stomach. You just drink that while I pack my bag. I’ll be fast, don’t worry,” she goes on as he tries to compute what she means and sniffs her concoction warily, “I pack light anyways and we can always come back for the rest of my stuff later.”

Come back. For her stuff. Don’t worry -she packs light.

The fennel wafts around him, the smell of licorice and fairgrounds and his mama’s hand in his and daddy winning him that stuffed tiger. Fennel, for his stomach. He shakes his head. His tongue feels fuzzy.

Come back. For her stuff. She packs light.

She is coming with him. That’s what she must mean, he realizes as he drinks her awful drink and watches with teary eyes her bare ass bend over to grab jeans from a dresser and throw them in a duffel bag. Like Graceland is summer camp.

Come back for the rest later, she’d said. She is coming back with him, just knowing she’s welcome. He didn’t even have to beg, to ask, to suggest, to hint. Send a limo, nothin, just eat pussy and now she’s gonna live with him. Let her press her skin against his own just once and suddenly, he’s never gonna be lonely again.

She bounces into the bathroom and comes out with the damn lemon shampoo, to match the lemon conditioner abandoned on the floor.

Cheap drug store shit.

“Hell no, you’re not bringing that stuff into my house.” he lays down the law, his one condition and the first time he’s vocalized any acknowledgment of her entitlement to his hospitality, “You’ll use mine till we get you sorted.”

“I like the way you smell.” she admits, dropping the bottles there in the middle of the floor. That's that sorted.

It’s still not sunk in fully as Elvis drives his quite recognizable beast of a car through Memphis’ now dark streets, while Gigi sits beside him with her white stack of papers catching the street lights glare as they pass. His giddy joy at her willingness and her entitlement to stay with him is overshadowed by the cold lump in his throat, panicking about how to keep a shred of dignity intact or retain an iota of her attraction for him when she becomes aware of his routines.

“You’re gonna teach me how to help, right?” she asks very soberly from her side, as sober as he’s ever seen her.

“Whatcha mean, baby doll?” he tries to keep his tone light.

“You’ll teach me and show me how to care for you, right?” she presses again, “I wanna take care of you, like you take care of me.”

Simple as that -for her. He grunts out something she mistakes for a yes.

Elvis puffs harder on his lit cigar and feels like he’s gonna choke, ends up rolling his window down, gulping in fresh air as Gigi does it on her side too, hanging her head out the window and whooping into the night. He wonders what might distract her while he slips away this evening, maybe a movie or maybe the hot tub or maybe the horses. Maybe Tammy is still there like a bad penny and will keep her distracted. Tonight Elvis would welcome that. Only tonight, and his hand tightens on the steering wheel in frustration over his own worn out body and how it just can’t walk this stuff off anymore.

She’s still hanging out the window, she looks so young like that. His vision blurs.

Somehow Gigi’s feet have ended up in his lap by the time Sam’s letting them into the front gate. She wiggles her toes under his belly, rubbing at the soft skin. Grinning at him suggestively, like a fat man’s belly is the most sexy thing imaginable. He wants to snort.

“Think they saved us any barbecue?” she grins.

“No, it’s all in Gingersnaps’s hair and I ain’t touchin’ that ever again.” he allows himself to be a bit of bastard, it can’t be wrong when it makes Gigi giggle in maniacal glee in the passenger seat, secure now in having her Daddy’s attention. “I’m in the mood for peanut butter anyway.” he retorts.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

@prompted-wordsmith

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@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

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@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

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@steph-speaks

@eliseinmemphis

@lookingforrainbows

@dkayfixates

@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

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@austinbutlersbaby

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#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #70’s elvis #Elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis photos #elvis the king #70s elvis #elvis fans #Elvis smut #austin elvis imagine #big daddy Elvis #big daddy elvis fic #but then…Gigi

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lazyworksinprogress · 10 months

Text

a very long post about hozier - unreal earth

Index:

Lyrical allusions

Visual imagery

Reading list

Interviews

Reviews

Lyrical allusions

The lyrics on Unreal Unearth are informed by texts such as Irish writer Flann O’Brien’s philosophical 1967 novel, The Third Policeman, Dante's Inferno, and Jonathon Swift.

De Selby (Part 1)

At last, when all of the world is asleep You take in the blackness of air The likes of a darkness so deep That God at the start couldn’t bear

"Human existence being an hallucination containing in itself the secondary hallucinations of day and night (the latter an insanitary condition of the atmosphere due to accretions of black air) it ill becomes any man of sense to be concerned at the illusory approach of the supreme hallucination known as death." The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien

Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Ach tagais 'nós na hoíche Trína chéile; le chéile Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Claochlaithe is claochlú an ealaín Is ealaín dubh í Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Ach tagais 'nós na hoíche Trína chéilе; le chéile Bhfuilis soranna sorcha Claochlaithe is claochlú an еalaín Is ealaín dubh í

Although your bright and light […] You arrived to me like nightfall, you come like nightfall You and I sort of mixed together You and I metamorphosized So that same idea of you can’t see where one begins and where one ends that, that is some kind of metamorphosis of some kind

“a body with another body inside it in turn, thousands of such bodies within each other like the skins of an onion, receding to some unimaginable ultimum”

De Selby (Part 2)

What you're given, what you live in Darlin', it finds a way to live in you

"The gross and net result of it is that people who spent most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over the rocky roadsteads of this parish get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycle as a result of the interchanging of the atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who are nearly half people and half bicycles"

First Time

Remember once I told you about How before I heard it from your mouth My name would always hit my ears as such an awful sound

First Time refers to Beatrice Smiles: Canto XXXI - Dante's meeting with Beatrice after being left by Virgil, where she rebukes him for his sins. Dante does not remember his name but recognises Beatrice. He was dunked into the River of Forgetting by Matelda

“Respond, you of poor memory, confess. _Lethe awaits. Your thoughts are undeterred.”

These days I think I owe my life To flowers that were left here by my mother Ain't that like them, giftin' life to you again

Francesca

In Dante's Inferno, the character of Beatrice embodies love inspired by God - she is a religious object that should inspire faith, devotion, and salvation. By contrast, the character of Francesca da Rimini is encountered in the Terrace of Lust. She was a medieval noblewoman who was killed by her husband, Giovanni Malatesta upon discovering an affair between her and Paolo Malatesta (his brother). She represents love that leads one's soul to destruction.

I would not change it each time Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I I would not change it each time

"Love led us to one death, conjointly felled. __For him who slew us, Cäina waits below."

I Carrion (Icarian)

One deep breath out from the sky I've reached a rarer height now that I can confirm All our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world

This song has a connection with Inferno 17. Phaeton, Icarus, Daedalus and Arachne: are symbolic of Ulysses, the embodiment of transgression in Dante’s personal mythography. Icarus is a figure of fear for because he was equipped by his father to alter the boundaries of man's physical nature. It is the sin of pride that leads one to folly.

Eat Your Young

“Eat Your Young”, a contemporary riff on the Irish writer Jonathan Swift’s 1729 satirical essay “A Modest Proposal” that suggests Irish people eat their children to alleviate their hunger and poverty.

Come and get some Skinnin' the children for a war drum Puttin' food on the table sellin' bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

The first verse also contains allusions to Canto 6 of Inferno - this level is related to "gluttony" but it's used by Dante to discuss the political landscape and moral failures of the City of Florence. Gluttony, in this case, is defined as excessive desire for dominion and power. So Hozier comments on inequality and poverty with a distinctly political air.

Damage Gets Done

Here Hozier refers to Canto 7 of Inferno and the concept of misura - a lack of moderation or self-control

And darlin', I haven't felt it since then I don't know how the feelin' ended But I know being reckless and young Is not how the damage gets done

In this Canto, Dante is discussing wealth management - hoarding and wasteful spending. While avarice is a traditionally Christian sin, Dante inserts the sin of prodigality by himself. This tells us that Dante's moral standard is not essentially Christian. Hozier also plays with the intentions of the texts he refers to and inserts his own takes on philosophy and biography. Very Dantean, if you ask me.

Who We Are

I think this is a narrative shift similar to Canto 8-9 where the fallibility of Virgil is explored and the tension between faith and fear.

You only feel it when it's lost Gettin' through still has a cost Quietly, it slips through your fingers, love Falling from you drop by drop What I had left here I just held it tight So someone with your eyes might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

Son of Nyx

All Things End

The mystery at the heart of Inferno 10, the mystery that generates its enormous poetic power, is the connection of love to sin.

All Things End is superficially about the end of a relationship but it's also about heresy. The specific heresy in the canto is Epicureanism: materialism that suggests the soul dies with the body. It is a denial of the idea of an immortal soul and a "wilful separation of the soul from God". The Epicureans in Canto 10 are represented as eternally trapped in the temporary and ephemeral materialistic reality of the present. They are denied what is eternal and transcendent (ie divine)

And all things end All that we intend is scrawled in sand And slips right through our hands And just knowing That everything will end Should not change our plans When wе begin again

To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuarithe)

‘Uiscefhuarithe’, as described by Hozier, is an irish word for ‘something that has been made cold by water’.

Butchered Tongue

The Genius annotation gives a lot of detail here: In “Butchered Tongue”, Hozier tackles the 7th Circle of Hell Canto XII to XVII, known as the ‘Circle of Violence or Hell of the Violent and Bestial’ which is one of the lower circles of Hell and is divided into three distinct rings, each punishing different types of violence. The track focuses mainly on the first ring called the ‘Outer Ring’ where those who commit violence against others and their property are punished by being submerged in a river of boiling blood called the Phlegethôn, and centaurs patrol the area, shooting arrows at those who emerge from the blood.

The song has a number of allusions to the horrors of colonial violence.

Anything But

I think this song refers to Canto 26 which establishes the critical metaphor that equates desire with flying. Here Dante encounters Ulysses - the embodiment of the epic wandering hero.

"But here one must fly, I mean with the swift wings and the pinions of great desire."

Canto 26 is critical of imperial ambitions and expansionism as Dante casts the city of Florence as a giant bird of prey whose wings beat over land and sea. This is thought as representing a specter of tyranny.

Dante presents Ulysses as the ultimate flawed hero that embodies the expression of desire as flight. Hozier expresses his desire for flight and wandering in Anything But.

I wanna be the shadow when my bright future's behind me I wanna be the last thing anybody ever sees I hear he touches your hand, and then you fly away together If I had his job, you would live forever

Abstract (Psychopomp)

Here Hozier references a childhood trauma of witnessing an animal being hit by a car and Canto 28. It's somewhat alike to the canto in a metatextual sense because it presents a gruesome picture. In Inferno 28 souls are mutilated by devils. The language is pretty clinical and graphic, like the song.

"Who, even with untrammeled words and many attempts at telling, ever could recount in full the blood and wounds that I now saw?."

The poor thing in the road, its eye still glistening The cold wet of your nose, the earth from a distance

Unknown / Nth

This one has a lot of references that have been discussed by Hozier for its allusions to the ninth circle of Hell and Cantos 34. The ninth circle is sometimes referred to as treachery but the sin is fraud.

betrayal is fraud committed against those who trust us

Hozier said he conceived of Satan/the Devil as the first prisoner of hell. I've got to link the Digital Dante article about this Canto because it's very relevant:

You know the distance never made a difference to me I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen And all that we believe So I thought you were like an angel to me

First Light

One bright morning changes all things Soft and easy as your breathing, you wake Your eyes open at first a thousand miles away But turning shoot a silver bullet point-blank range And I can scarce believe what I'm believing in Could this be how every day begins?

"Whichever day it was, it was a gentle day – mild, magical and innocent with great sailings of white cloud serene and impregnable in the high sky, moving along like kingly swans on quiet water. The sun was in the neighbourhood also, distributing his enchantment unobtrusively, colouring the sides of things that were unalive and livening the hearts of living things" - The Third Policeman

Visual imagery

"Down into the earth where dead men go I would go soon and maybe come out of it again in some healthy way, free and innocent of all human perplexity." - The Third Policeman

"Not everyone know how I killed old Phillip Mathers, smashing his jaw in with my spade." - The Third Policeman - Flann O'Brien

“If a man stands before a mirror and sees in it his reflection, what he sees is not a true reproduction of himself but a picture of himself when he was a younger man”

Reading list

“Eat Your Young”, a contemporary riff on the Irish writer Jonathan Swift’s 1729 essay “A Modest Proposal”

The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien: an expert investigation

Bestselling author Michael Foley celebrates a comic, Kafkaesque masterpiece and explores what makes it great. But why was it cannibalised

The Irish Times

The Icarian Community Nauvoo | Paul M. Angle

Re-admitted to France, Cabet made plans to move his ideal society from the printed page to reality. In December 1847, he announced that Ic

fee.org|Paul M. Angle

An overview of the 1798 Irish rebellion

Interviews

“We betray ourselves in the act of opening up to somebody and believing so much,” Hozier says, passing a hand across his face. He looks weary, all of a sudden, voice cracking a little. “Our eyes betray us, our hearts betray us, our minds betray us. And that’s the ‘Nth’ reference: we open ourselves up to something, only to betray ourselves…”

Hell, at Least According to Hozier, Never Sounded Sweeter

On the eve of his return to the spotlight, the Irish crooner mulls over Ovid, 'Inferno,' and his status as the internet’s forest king.

Vanity Fair|Condé Nast

Hozier: ‘I think everyone goes through their version of hell’

The Irish artist is releasing his long-awaited third record ‘Unreal Unearth’, which was inspired by Dante’s Inferno. He speaks to Roisin O’C

The Independent

“There’s a subtle element and I wanted to be light and playful with it. The album can be taken as a collection of songs, but also as a little bit of a journey. It starts with a descent and I’ve arranged the songs according to their themes into nine circles, just playfully reflecting Dante’s nine circles and then an ascent at the end”

the album reflects upon two of the nine circles of hell: gluttony and heresy.

“There’s some moments that are a bit more old school and stuff that’s Nineties grunge sounding too. For other moments we were leaning into playing with a lot of synthesisers. But we’ve arranged the album into circles and the EP just represents two of those – those soul moments within it.” - Rolling Stone Interview

Divine Comedy explainers

Dante's 9 Circles of Hell: A Guide to the Structure of 'Inferno'

Here's a structural overview for the nine circles of hell in Book 1 (Inferno) of Dante Alighier's Divine Comedy.

ThoughtCo

Full Glossary for The Divine Comedy: Inferno

Absalom Bible. David's favorite son; killed after rebelling against his father: 2 Samuel 18.Acheron the River of Sorrow.Achilles Greek Mytho

cliffsnotes.com

Dante Alighieri: Mythology in the Divine Comedy

Mythology in the Divine Comedy Throughout Dante’s work “The Divine Comedy”, the author uses Greek and Roman mythology to elevate and to pro

ITAL3550SLU - Medieval & Renaissance Italian Literature

Reviews

Hozier - 'Unreal Unearth' review: Epic, expansive and ethereal

On his third album, the Irish sing-songwriter utilizes simplicity and space while venturing into new sonic territory — Read the NME review

NME|Aliya Chaudhry

Hozier: Unreal Unearth album review — solitude, spirituality and a touch of Dante | Financial Times

The singer’s roar is as impressive as ever but he also deploys other vocal styles to fine effect in his third album

ft.com

On Unreal Unearth, Hozier Makes His Boldest Work Yet

On Unreal Unearth, Hozier works through biblical source material and Dante's Inferno to make sense of isolation and human sorrow.

Paste Magazine

Hozier – ‘Unreal Unearth’ album review: A beautiful, angst-filled journey through the nine circles of hell

'Unreal Unearth' dives into the concept of Dante's Inferno.

Far Out Magazine

Unreal Unearth review | Hozier merges pop with profound prose

From the haunting echoes of Irish folklore to the pulsating beats of indie pop, this is Hozier at his artistic peak. Read our Unreal Unearth

whynow

Album: Hozier - Unreal, Unearth

Only a few artists can be said to have exploded on to the scene like Hozier. The solo, Irish musician – full name Andrew John Hozier-Byrne –

theartsdesk.com

#hozier #unreal unearth #andrew hozier byrne #de selby part 2 #eat your young

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zikariogirl · 1 year

Text

‘ 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 ’ — 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧-𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤

PART ONE, part two

summary ┆ as vincenzo’s sister, you were asked to help him out with a certain situation he was handling in korea — spying on a evil-corrupted CEO, who has no care for others. you were strategic, smart, and the best of the best. . .but who knew you would end up falling in love with a psychopath?

a/n ┆ this originally was gonna be a loooong one shot, but i think it’s too long that it’ll need a part two LMAO. also, there will be a lot of “switching languages” here because i feel like people who are bilingual/trilingual tend to switch from one language to other while they speak (i’m bilingual and do this myself lol), if that makes sense. kind of like han-seok, who goes from korean to english when he speaks!

warnings┆ slight mentions of gore and disturbing themes

key:

normal = english

italics = italian

bold = korean

“Would you like some water, ma’am?”

You shot the flight attendant a quick smile as you nodded your head and raised your empty glass cup, thanking her while she filled it up. Per your brother’s request, you were currently on your way to South Korea to provide some assistance on an unknown situation. Vincenzo was pretty vague over the phone and promised that he will explain everything when you get there, which was good enough for you. At least him teaching you Korean as the two of you grew up is definitely coming in handy now. There’s a few small words and phrases you still need to work on but you had a good understanding of it, and spending some time in Korea is definitely going to make you learn fast.

You missed him — a lot frankly. The two of you weren’t biologically related since you were both adopted. Don Fabio adopted you into the family when you were only six years old after your poor excuse of a father attempted to sell you off. He neglected you for years and constantly blamed you for being the reason why your mother passed away when you were born.

You took your revenge on him though. You made sure his death was slow and painful.

Vincenzo on the other hand was adopted into the family later down the line. The two of you grew extremely close and worked well together, unlike your relationship with Paolo. You were both ruthless with your work; making you guys earn the nickname I Diavoli Malvagi — The Wicked Devils. Although you were a part of the Cassano family first, Vincenzo somehow climbed up the ranks quickly and surpassed you to become Don Fabio’s right-hand man. You loved your brother, but sometimes you couldn’t help but feel a bit of resentment towards him, especially when the rest of the family sometimes disregarded you unless if you had Vincenzo around.

However, you quickly pushed those thoughts away as you began to land. Regardless on how you feel, he’s your brother who you cherish a lot — and probably the only person who genuinely cares about you. You called for a taxi and made your way to the location he sent you, Geumga Plaza.

Upon your arrival, you were greeted by the tenants of the building as they excitedly welcomed you into their home. They were suffocating — to say the least — but you were successful in pushing past them and storming inside the office where Vincenzo was located at.

The moment you slammed the door shut, three pairs of eyes landed on your heavily breathing form.

“Those people are like fucking leeches!” You cursed in Italian as you dropped your suitcase and bag.

Vincenzo moved swiftly as he shot up from his seat and made his way towards you, causing you to straight up face-plant into his chest as he pulled you in for a tight hug.

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed– ow!”

You didn’t let him finish since you proceeded to flick him on his ear, hard.

“I cannot breathe,” your voice was muffled against his chest so you tried your best to face the right, attempting to free the corner of your mouth, “and if you don’t let me go within the next three seconds, I will show everyone in this building that video I took of you passionately singing to ‘Umbrella’ by Rihanna.”

That man has never let you go so fast in your life.

You fixed your clothes and hair, then proceeded to pull him into a proper hug where neither of you were dying to catch some oxygen.

“I’ve missed you too asshole,” you smiled when you felt him chuckle before pulling away. “Now introduce me to your colleagues so we can get down to business.”

Vincenzo knew you didn’t like to waste time, so he swiftly introduced you to Miss Hong and Mr. Nam before the four of you sat down on a table to discuss the situation. Vincenzo started from the beginning. From the death of Miss Hong’s father, to Babel’s corrupt cases and evil acts, to him finding out that Miss Hong’s former intern is actually Jang Han-seok — the CEO and mastermind behind Babel. It was a lot of intel, and a bit confusing since you didn’t really see a point in fighting this fight. If anything, the whole thing sounds almost identical to how the mafia works back in Italy. Things are hardly personal, and it’s mostly just business unless if you cross somebody wrong. It sounds like this Han-seok guy is trying everything he can to be at the top, and eliminating anyone who gets in his way.

Yeah, sounds fairly similar.

You could honestly care less about corrupt politicians. Korea isn’t your home, neither is it Vincenzo’s, so you’re finding it really hard to understand why he’s doing this.

You didn’t mean to do it, but you interrupted Miss Hong in mid conversation as you held up a hand and looked at Vincenzo. “Tell her I apologize for interrupting, but I need to speak to you alone.”

He knew something was up, so he translated your apology to Miss Hong who was kindly understanding. Both her and Mr. Nam excused themselves as they exited the office, leaving you and your brother alone at last.

You drummed your fingers against the table, giving him a side look with a raised eyebrow. “How much are they paying you?”

He blinked. “What?”

“How. Much. Are. They. Paying. You? This whole ‘saving the people’ thing isn’t you. This is a job cut out for the good people, for heroes, not for monsters like us. We’re no better than Babel, Wusang, and that Han-seok guy.”

“I never said I was a hero,” he let out a sigh as he leant back against his chair.

“It’s not your fight Vincenzo. So what if Babel wants to demolish this plaza? Let them! The tenants can always find another building to infest. You can put this behind you and come back with me to Italy because Paolo is such a–”

“There’s gold stashed away in this building.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Almost 886 million euros to be exact.”

Hold up. Rewind. Pause.

“E-Eight hundred…”

“Babel wants to demolish the plaza, which will then reveal the secret room where the gold is located. Miss Hong and I made an agreement. I help her destroy Babel, and in return, she will help me regain ownership of the plaza. You’re an incredible spy, so I want you to infiltrate them and get as much intel as you can. Once I gain access to the room, I’ll give you ten bars of gold. Each bar is worth about 58 thousand euros.”

That’s half a million euros.

You shot Vincenzo a wide smile while leaning forward on the table, resting your chin on the palm of your hands. “Where do we start?”

The plan was finally in motion. After finding the right people to tip off Ms. Choi, you received a phone call from her almost immediately. Due to the language barrier you both struggled to communicate properly — not really but you just needed her to take you to him. When she notified you that Han-seok wanted to see you, you couldn’t erase the devious smirk off your face as you agreed to meet him.

This man either trusts too easily or is heavily armed and prepared to kill you in case anything goes south. You were approaching his house while having two of his armed bodyguards escort you inside. The sound of your heels echoed off the walls, letting the four people inside know about your presence. The moment you stepped foot into the room, all eyes were on you, but there was one specific pair that matched the same iciness as your own.

“Miss Marino,” he greeted with a smile. “Please join us and sit.”

You sat down next to Ms. Choi, leaving your eyes trained on him. “I’m pretty familiar with the language,” you didn’t miss the way Ms. Choi looked at you, “I just sometimes prefer not to speak it.”

Han-seok cocked an eyebrow. “I see, well, first thing’s first, tell me about yourself,” he snapped his fingers towards one of the gentlemen, indicating him to fill up your empty wine glass.

While the middle aged man with glasses scurried to obey orders, you leant back on the couch while crossing your left leg over your right. “I’ll spare you all the depressing details about my past, but I’m a mercenary. Been one for five years. I work for nobody but myself. If you pay me fucking good, then I could care less about whatever task it is you give me. Only thing, I don’t harm children, so don’t expect to do any of that.”

He remained quiet but kept his gaze on you.

“Ms. Choi called me rather quick when I arrived to Seoul, so tell me, what does the CEO of a company want with a person like me? You plan on getting your hands dirty?”

“I always get my hands dirty when needed. I just need to know if you’re the right fit for this kind of job.”

“You think I’m not?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I find it hard to believe someone of your appearance is one of Italy’s top mercenaries.”

“How about you put your money where your mouth is?”

You were not liking his sexist attitude towards you. So what if you’re not some strong buff man? You’re perfectly capable of taking down anyone who dares to cross you. You don’t know how to explain it, but something in his features changed at your remark, and before you could even register what was about to happen, a pair of arms grabbed you from behind and slammed you into the floor.

This fucking prick! So he’s planning to test you? The air was knocked out of your lungs but you quickly regained your composure and rolled yourself back onto your feet. The man in front of you went in for a punch but you stopped his fist, twisted his arm, and proceeded to flip yourself in a hand stand position, your legs wrapping themselves around his neck as you tossed him down onto the floor. Everyone stood in shock as you pinned down your attacker’s arm and basically had him on a choke hold with your legs.

The sound of clapping behind you made your attacker tap out, and you quickly released him before standing up. You turned to face Han-seok, who looked fascinated as he loudly applauded you.

“WOOH!” His sudden burst caused everyone — but you — to flinch. “Oh my GOD!”

You picked up one of your shoes that was laying on the floor. “You owe me new heels,” you sighed in disappointment when you noticed the broken heel.

He made his way towards you, grabbing the heel from your hand and tossing it behind him. “You will get anything you want, plus more, if you join my team. You’re just PERFECT! A-MAZING! WOW!”

Does he usually have outbursts like these? He almost sounds possessed. Nonetheless, you smiled up at him, letting him know you were in all the way.

“When do I start?”

Then plan was working just as you and Vincenzo hoped it would. You’ve been getting a lot of intel on Babel — which has served a great help to him and Cha-young. Speaking of them, you’ve noticed a bit of chemistry going on between the two of them. You haven’t said anything but you’re not stupid nor blind to know that they both have some sort of feelings for each other.

It was almost adorable to you.

Another major update was Han-seok finally revealing himself as the actual chairman to the public. It was definitely a bit of a shock since he was so keen on keeping it a secret so Han-seo could take the fall for all of his problems regarding Babel. He surprisingly hasn’t ordered you to kill Vincenzo, if anything, he wants you to tease him in a way — to make him suffer and gain revenge as well. He basically wants you to grow even so Vincenzo is aware that they too have the power to take him down if they want to. Kind of a cocky move for him in whatever little game he’s playing with your brother.

Since you can’t make Babel or Wusang grow suspicious, both you and Vincenzo had to plan out certain situations to make it look like you almost beat him, or in smaller cases, you did. The two of you even went as far as to fake a fist fight. Both of you came out bruised and scratched up but were laughing like maniacs about the “fight” over tea.

But this encounter was also when you noticed some strange behavior coming from Han-seok. You had to report back to him like always, and the moment you stepped inside Mr. Han’s office, everyone froze at the sight of you.

“Wha…What happened?” Han-seo questioned as he ran to you. The young chairman took a hold of your hand and began to lead you to one of the couches.

You let him guide you while Mr. Han rushed to get you a glass of water. You stretched out your arms and leaned your head back, closing your eyes for a brief second before opening them again. “That bastard caught me by surprise. It’s like he knew I was going to be there. That figlio di puttana snuck up behind me but I was able to fight him off and get away.”

Everyone turned to look at Han-seok as they waited for him to translate the last part of your statement. Okay yeah, you can practically consider yourself fluent in Korean, but sometimes it’s fun watching them struggle to understand you. The silence that fell in the room told you that Han-seok remained quiet. He kept his hard gaze on you and didn’t even bother looking at his team as he spoke — wait no demanded — something to them.

“Get out.” His voice was rough and low, but you kept your eyes closed and could clearly hear everyone shuffling out the doorway, indicating that it was just you and the boss.

You heard him get up, and a few seconds passed before you heard the sound of a box clicking open. “If you’re thinking about torturing me, don’t even bother. I’m practically immune to that sh–”

You were instantly silenced when you felt his rough fingers grab your chin. Out of instinct, your right hand shot out and gripped his wrist, your nails digging into his skin but he showed no reaction to your move. Your eyes connected for just a brief second before he diverted his attention on your cut lip and bruised cheek. The feel of a wet cloth touching your skin was not foreign to you — but having someone else do it is. You remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt his focus, but you were also left speechless feeling his rough fingers hold your chin. You don’t know why, but being this close to him was making your heartbeat run wild, and that was definitely bad. You don’t know if it’s his beautiful brown eyes, the way his brows are furrowed to focus on your injuries, or the way he’s actually gentle and being careful in cleaning your wounds.

Why is he even doing this? He doesn’t gain anything from it.

You almost punched yourself in the face when you felt a wave of disappointment hit you when his hands were no longer touching you.

“Your lip was starting to bleed again and you were getting blood everywhere. Next time, don’t fail me. I would hate to get rid of you.”

And just like that, he stood up and turned his back on you. You felt stupid. What did you expect? Why would he clean you up and show any form of emotion towards you? What even made you think that?

You were definitely touch starved. Yes, that’s why. You haven’t had sex in a while, and you were probably really hormonal, which is why your body reacted the way it did. You swallowed the lump that was stuck in your throat and you quickly stood up, trying to think about what club to hit after this.

“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

And with that you were off.

Your mind has been on a haywire ever since your weird feelings during that one specific encounter with Han-seok arose. You thought that the answer to all your problems would be sex, but the sad truth is, it definitely was not. It was a mere disappointment. At first you believed that maybe it was just the person, so you found somebody else the next day and slept with them as well. Same reaction, same feeling — it was terrible that you felt absolutely nothing. Maybe it was you? You’re not even sure what to think.

But you definitely don’t know what to think now because for some reason, Han-seok invited you out for a stroll around the park.

You were both currently eating ice cream — his treat — while talking about the plan and the progress that you’ve made. You basically bullshitted all your intel, but once Han-seok opened his mouth to ask you something, the two of you were approached by a guy around your age.

He kind of looks like..

“You’ve been ignoring my texts and calls.”

Oh shit. It’s your one night stand.

To be frank, you forgot his name, and you could care less to find out what it is. He looked like a mess and by the look on his face, he was clearly not happy when his eyes landed on Han-seok. “Who’s this?”

Before he could answer the guy, you cut Han-seok off. “How is that any of your business?” You retorted back to Mr. No Name.

“Because we’re seeing each other?”

You drily laughed. “I beg your pardon?”

His features fell at the tone of your voice. “Was I just a joke to you then? You… you approached me! You wanted me. We danced all night, had drinks, we had sex, and then you had an emergency so that’s why you gave me your number. I asked if we could see each other again and you said yes.”

He was putting you on the spot and you hated it. Who does this fucker think he is?

“Look buddy, there’s this thing called a one night stand. I don’t do any of that talking bullshit. I don’t do any dating. I fuck with no strings attached. To be fair with you, I was drunk and probably had no clue as to what I was saying to you that night. Lose my number though, will you?”

You paid no mind to him as you grabbed Han-seok’s hand and began to walk off.

“Your dick game is very disappointing by the way. I had to fake my orgasm.”

He caught you by surprise when you felt him yank your hair.

“You stupid bitch!”

You were about to grab him and make him beg for his life but Han-seok was faster. His eyes were dangerous as he tightly clutched onto the guy’s hand, who began to wince in pain while falling down to his knees.

“L-Let me go you fucker!”

“Shut up or I’ll snap your wrist right here, right now,” his voice was dripping with malice.

You had to stop him. You were in a public place where anyone could see what was going on. You stood up on your toes and placed your hand on his right shoulder. “Not here,” you whispered. “People will see.”

He immediately smiled at your words, already piecing together what you meant. “We can take him back to my place.”

You returned the same smile before bending down to be at eye level with the guy. You cupped his cheeks and slightly leaned in. “You’re gonna die.”

And die he did. His bloodied body was left in the bathroom as both you and Han-seok stood in the living room, wiping the blood off your hands. You got a little too carried away with Mr. No Name. The way he disrespected you by putting his hands on you without reason made your blood boil, and you lashed out in anger the moment the three of you made it behind closed doors. Who the fuck lays a hand on a person after being rejected? God was he an idiot.

You were too lost in your thoughts and too focused on wiping the blood off your neck to even notice Han-seok staring at you. You didn’t notice the way he kept clenching and unclenching his fists. The way his adams apple kept moving every time he swallowed as he gazed at your gorgeous face caked in blood. You were ethereal in his eyes right now. He used to think Cha-young was the perfect woman, but that all changed the moment he met you.

You peaked his interest that first night he met you. When you slammed one of his body guards down onto the floor with no issue. The way you’ve been slowly causing Vincenzo and Cha-young trouble. The way you briskly complete some side jobs he has for you in getting rid of certain people. You don’t question him and get the job done — just as you promised.

He really wants to kiss you right now.

He gave you zero time to react as he marched over to you and grabbed the back of your neck, slamming your lips together in a rough kiss. You felt your teeth clash with his and it fucking hurt. You pushed against his chest but he didn’t budge, so you decided to bite down hard on his lower lip.

He immediately stepped back, but his crazed eyes remained on you as he licked the blood off his lips. You on the other hand did not know what to say or do.

“What the fuck was that?!” You yelled.

He shrugged. “Just wanted…a taste.”

What’s even worse is you genuinely liked feeling his lips against yours.

Han-seok took a step closer to you and when he noticed you taking a step back, he proceeded to get closer. It’s like you were frozen, and all you could do was step away from him instead of walking out the door. He eventually caged you in, with his arms trapping you as you leaned back against the table.

“So,” he tilted his head and reached forward to trace the skin on your neck. “I have an offer.”

“What?” You were short with your answer, mostly because you wanted to get this conversation over with.

“Have sex with me.”

“What?”

“Just this once.” He leaned forward and buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Seeing you go crazy. Staining yourself with blood. Fuck, that was so hot.”

His hot breathe tickled your skin and you immediately got goosebumps. You hated this, but a part of you liked being this close to him. To have his lips be so close to you. The heat of his body engulfing you. You wanted to push him down against the couch and ride him like there’s no tomorrow. You wanted to feel his hands all over your body, to have his mouth touch your most sensitive area, to have him fill you completely.

Wait, no. What the fuck was wrong with you? Alarms were going off in your head and you needed to leave now.

“I don’t know what kind of shit you’re trying to pull here, but I’m not having sex with you.”

You kept your tone cool and collective. You didn’t want him knowing what kind of reaction he was giving your body.

“Why not?” He pulled his head back to look down at you with a pout.

“Because I don’t fuck who I’m working for.”

“Hm, but you didn’t have a problem whoring around–”

SLAP.

That definitely caught him by surprise as he stepped back and held his burning left cheek. His eyes were wide with shock but he made no move to grab or hurt you.

You were livid, and all you could do was point at him. “Do not ever disrespect me like that. I don’t care who you are, but I will not stand for that type of bullshit talk. Unless I’m going to directly do a task for you or it’s something related to the case, don’t ever fucking talk or touch me again. Figlio di puttana.”

You turned around and stormed out of his place in a hurry, not wanting to be around him any longer. When you got back to the plaza and told Vincenzo, Cha-young, and Mr. Nam about what happened, it was an understatement that your brother wanted to march towards Babel and just kill Han-seok himself. You made sure to leave out the part of him asking you to have sex, but either way, Vincenzo was loudly cursing in Italian as he paced the office.

“Wait, this is a great idea!” You narrowed your eyes at Cha-young, who seemed eager to tell your brother something. She whispered something in his ear causing his eyes to widen, and you were sure you heard him whisper a ‘no’ to her.

“What did she say?” You were desperate to know.

Vincenzo gripped the edge of the table as his eyes met yours. You could tell he was tense, and you did not like it one bit.

“Cha-young wants you to seduce Han-seok, or at least make him fall for you. That way you’ll have a deeper connection and be able to manipulate him.”

“Fuck. No.”

He turned to look at Cha-young. “I told you she’ll say no.”

“Convince her. Please. This will definitely give us the upper hand, plus, wouldn’t it be fun seeing him grow desperate over her only to be betrayed in the end?”

“I am not having my little sister get close to that psychopath.”

“She has a point,” you turned to look at Mr. Nam since he began to speak. “Plus, she can take care of herself. I know for a fact she can kick his ass if she wants to.”

Cha-young turned to face you and unexpectedly threw her arms around your shoulders, causing you to scream. “Please!” She begged in English. “Pleaseeee.”

“Yes! Please!” Mr. Nam proceeded to hug you as well. They were so close to you and you shot Vincenzo a glare. He looked semi-apologetic but also very amused, but you were going to rain hell on your brother since he pulled out his phone and took a picture of your current situation — several actually.

If anything, they practically forced your hand, because they would not let you go unless if you agreed to their stupid, evil plan. Now, you angrily stomped out of the building and began to formulate a plan to get close to Han-seok, even though you told him to never talk to you unless if it’s about business.

You didn’t want to admit it, but the main reason why you refused to take part in this plan was because you were afraid of your own feelings towards Han-seok. After the kiss and having sexual fantasies — while he basically smelled your neck too — you’ve been a hot Han-seok mess. You were guilty of having wet dreams of him. You were also guilty of feeling your heart beat increase anytime he walked into the room. Surprisingly, he kept his distance. Maybe the slap you gave him knocked some sense into his brain and made him realize how much of a perverted idiot he was being. You should feel thankful he was respecting your wishes, but, all you felt was disappointment.

The more time you spent with him, the more dangerous it became for you. Task after task, meeting after meeting, you were essentially digging your own grave at this point. Its been months and you’re at a deep end, and it sucks that you don’t know who to go to for this. You can’t tell Vincenzo in fear of disappointing him, and you also didn’t want him to be disgusted by you. Even though you spend a lot of time with Cha-young and Mr. Nam, you don’t feel comfortable letting them know either. You obviously cannot spill any of this to Ms. Choi or Mr. Han, so that only leaves the one person you know is the worst choice.

Jang Han-seon.

Why him of all people? Maybe it’s because he fears Han-seok and you know he won’t say a word. Maybe it’s because he’s the kindest out of the group, so you automatically assume he can be easy to talk to.

Or you could bottle your feelings and thoughts instead of saying anything. But the more you bottled these emotions, the worse it gets. Maybe you should back down on the deal completely and move back to Italy.

But it’s half a million euros. Half a million. Never mind, you can do this! You just have to control your feelings and stop acting like a stupid rookie. You’re a fucking spy for the mafia, you’ve been doing this since you were sixteen! Why start to lack now? There’s nothing special about Han-seok. He’s a psychopath.

But he’s also a really handsome and fun guy.

No, you need to stop. You’ll rant to Han-seo and that’ll be the end of it. You paced around Babel in search of the younger Jang brother and was relieved to see him getting coffee by himself — no Han-seok in sight.

“Han-seo!”

He had a worried and confused look when he heard his name, but when his eyes landed on you, he smiled.

“Hey,” he greeted as he pointed towards the coffee machine. “Coffee?”

You shook your head and leaned back against the counter. “I need to tell you something but you cannot tell anyone, understand?”

His demeanor changed at your words on the secrecy of what you’re about to tell him but he quickly regained it as he nodded his head. “I understand. What is it?”

“I think I like Han-seok.”

And there goes his morning coffee. Han-seo practically spit out everything and he became a coughing mess, placing the mug down as he fanned himself.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” You cried out as you began to repeatedly pat his back.

“I…,” he coughed. “Napkin.” Cue another deadly cough.

You were quick to pass him a napkin and you took it upon yourself to clean and wipe down his tie. This poor man would not stop coughing, and it was even drawing the attention of certain employees who would walk by, but you paid no mind to them. You guided Han-seo to the nearest chair while still patting his back.

“Han-seo, are you okay?”

Cough. “I think.” Cough. “Damn.” Cough. “No.”

You placed your hands on both sides of his face to keep his attention on you. “Do you need CPR because I’m actually trained on it.”

He blushed at your words, and started to wave his hands frantically while still coughing out like a forty-year old man who smokes cigarettes every day. “N-No!” Cough. “I’m…okay.”

“What’s going on here?”

Now that was a voice that could make the two of you freeze. At the same time, you both slowly turned your heads, your eyes landing on Han-seok. He looked…different. And not in the wardrobe-look different, but his aura…and his face. Something was off about him.

Han-seo was the first to scurry out of his chair. He removed your hands from his face and quickly bowed, but not before letting out another ugly cough.

“S-Sorry sir!” Cough. “It’s,” cough, “nothing! I was actually,” cough, “about to leave.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Stop talking. You’ll make it worse.” You patted his chest and shot him a smile.

What you didn’t know was how terrified Han-seo was right now because nobody knows his brother better than him, and right now? He could tell his brother wants to kill him. He notices the way his jaw keeps clenching every time you touch him. He was surprised he didn’t storm up to him when he caught your hands on his face. You confessed your feelings for Han-seok to him, but judging by his brother’s character, does he reciprocate the same feelings?

He definitely does not want to stay and find out.

Han-seo excused himself and said goodbye to you before walking off. You rolled your eyes when you heard him cough again, but now that you’re alone with Han-seok, you want to leave too.

“Well bye!”

“I didn’t say you could leave.”

He stopped you from walking off. You pursed your lips and turned around to face him once again, keeping your eyes focused on the nearest wall. “Yes boss?”

“What were you doing with Han-seo?”

“What do you think I was doing?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Shut up and answer my question.”

You raised an eyebrow at his ugly tone. “If you’re worried that I was going to kiss your brother at work, you’re wrong. He almost choked on coffee so I was helping him regain his composure. Plus, I wouldn’t kiss him here. It’s too open and people are nosy.”

You didn’t bother to stay and listen to his reply, instead you waved him off as you walked away, not bothering to turn back. Sure you work for him, but that doesn’t give him the right to act like an asshole to you. If he tries anything, both you and Vincenzo will be on his ass for it. However, one thing you didn’t know was that you were going to be the reason why Han-seo will wake up with a black eye tomorrow.

It was another normal day and — much to your surprise — Han-seok announced that he will be hosting a small party at his house, full of important people of course. You were required to attend and the moment Cha-young found out about it, she made it her number one job to dress you up and buy you the best of the best.

“I want you to outshine all of those corrupted assholes.”

You smiled at her words and felt thankful on her kindness towards you. She didn’t have to go and buy you a new dress — but she did. It was a beautiful silk beige dress with a sweetheart neckline, thin shoulder straps, and a straight line hem with a side slit. Your confidence boosted through the roof on how you looked. While you were applying the last of your make up, Vincenzo walked into your room and paused as he took in your appearance. You could see the gears shifting in his brain before his eyes widened and he pointed at you.

“No.”

“No what? I can’t look hot?”

“Why are you dressed like that? Don’t tell me you’re going on a date with that psychopath.”

“For the record, you agreed that I should get close to him,” you ‘popped’ your lips as you finished applying your lipgloss. “And no, I’m not. That psychopath is throwing a party.”

“Doesn’t she look gorgeous,” Cha-young grabbed your shoulders and made you face Vincenzo. The two of you innocently smiled at him, which made him mock a smile back before walking away. Cha-young smacked her lips and frowned in disapproval before rolling her eyes. “How rude.”

“He’s always like that,” you scoffed and grabbed your purse, making sure to leave your actual cell phone behind and taking your undercover one instead.

Before you could walk out, Vincenzo grabbed your wrist and raised a finger. “If he touches you again, I will kill him. I can always make a few jumps ahead in our little game.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. “Oh whatever, I’ll be fine. Just make sure to leave my apartment thirty minutes after I leave, just to be safe.” You planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “But I’ll be back! Maybe I’ll even get laid.”

You shot him one last wink and ran off right as he started to yell. You absolutely love pushing his buttons.

You walked out of the building and stood outside waiting for your car to get here. The party barely began five minutes ago but you weren’t in a rush to get there — it’s not like you’re the guest of honor. The car arrived just in time, so you opened the door and took a seat in the back. Just as you were about to put on your seatbelt, the driver quickly turned around and shoved a rag onto your face. Fuck, chloroform. You grabbed his wrist and twisted it, causing him to drop the rag on the floor as you attempted to open the doors. Of course this fucker would have child lock on. You began to kick the door and mentally cursed when you started to feel woozy and tired.

No, don’t fucking black out.

You rapidly blinked your eyes as you tried to stay awake, but the chloroform was definitely kicking your ass right now.

“You…fucking,” your body was giving up and you grew sluggish. “Piece of shit.”

Then your whole vision went black.

You don’t know how much time has passed since you’ve been taken, but when you slowly started to regain consciousness you noticed that you were handcuffed to a bed frame in a worn out bedroom. You laid on the dirty floor and noticed that the knife you had strapped to your thigh was gone.

“Wow I scored big tonight.”

You frowned at the creepy guy in front of you. He was definitely not hired for a job, he just looks like a simple homeless man. He seemed to be a few years older than you and wore worn out clothes that don’t appear to have been changed in months.

“Who are you?” You practically demanded.

All he did in response was raise an eyebrow at your question and stand up, completely turning his back on you.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, you fucker!”

You knew he wasn’t going to listen to you, but you had to let out your frustrated words somehow. You have no fucking clue what he was doing as he stood in front of a table but the moment he turned around, you wanted to kill him. His eyes were focused on you as they trailed your body, and he licked his lips before proceeding to rub himself through his pants.

What the actual fuck is wrong with him?

The sound of a phone — actually, your cell phone — going off made him stop. He let out an irritated groan before mumbling something underneath his breath as he walked out of the bedroom. Once he was gone you quickly bent your head and pulled out a bobby pin from your hair.

“Fucking pervert is dying tonight,” you mumbled as you picked the lock on the handcuffs. You were successful in getting them off and you rubbed your wrists while you began to search for a weapon, but stopped almost immediately when you took notice of an album sitting on the table. Upon further inspection when you opened it, you were horrified. Mangled bodies of young women were all posed in different and weird poses, and they were all naked too. So he kidnaps women, sexually tortures them, and then kills them for pleasure.

And you were his next victim.

“Fucking prick just signed his own death wish,” you spoke to yourself in disgust.

You grabbed a pair of scissors from the desk and began to make your way towards your new prey.

Meanwhile, back at the party, Han-seok took notice of your absence and began to ask around in case anyone saw you. He found it odd that you were still not here, since you clearly stated in your text that you would attend the party. He knows women take longer to get ready, but it’s been over an hour since the party began and he definitely is not liking the fact that you possibly bailed on him. What are you doing that’s much more important than his party? Are you out clubbing and meeting other guys? Oh hell no.

He marched over to Ms. Choi since she was in charge of sending a car to you. “Ms. Choi, did you so happen and get any word on the car you sent to pick up Miss Marino?”

“Yes sir. Last I heard, they’ve been waiting outside her building for thirty minutes.”

He frowned at her words. “Did they get in contact with her?”

She shook her head. “No. They’ve tried to call her several times but received no answer.”

Why the fuck didn’t she say a word? He clenched his jaw, his voice dropping low with annoyance. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

Ms. Choi fixed her glasses. “You seemed busy, sir. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I don’t fucking care what your excuse is. You notify me about shit like this immediately.” And with that he walked away and called your phone. It rang three times before it was automatically sent to voicemail. He called again. And again. And every time it would ring, it would last differently, almost as if his call was going through but someone was declining it. He was not going to have any of that.

Using your number, he had some of his men track it down, and he rushed towards your destination in no time. The moment he pulled up to a rundown house, he grew confused. What the fuck are you doing here? He got out his truck and walked towards the front door, which turned out to be unlocked, but the moment he stepped inside and his nostrils were filled with the familiar iron smell, he panicked.

Yes, panicked. For the first time in his life, he felt a sense of a slight fear. He didn’t miss all of the weird photos hanging on the walls. Each one was of a different woman, but the frames next to them were of the same girls, but dead, mutilated, and barely recognizable.

Han-seok genuinely felt his heart drop, and he began to call out your name, not caring if he alerted the owner of the house. In fact, he wants them to show themselves, so he can torture the fuck out of them and force them to tell him on your whereabouts.

What he didn’t expect to see was a male mutilated corpse laying on the floor of the living room, with you on the other side of the room, drenched in blood. His eyes roamed your body and took in your appearance really well. The beautiful silk dress you wore was now covered in blood, your hair was a bit unorganized but still looked perfect. Both of your hands were painted red in blood while your face, neck, and arms had a few splatters here and there. He didn’t miss your exposed left leg as well, something that really made him want to touch you.

You looked like a fucking goddess to him right now.

You were too busy sipping on whatever drink you prepared yourself since you didn’t bat an eye towards his direction, but the moment he stepped forward, the familiar click of a gun sounded off. He raised his hands in surrender, his lips curling into a smirk as he shot you a wink.

“It’s me!” He said in a cheerful tone.

But for some reason, you didn’t put down the gun.

You kept your aim on him as you completely debated whether or not to end this shit, right here, right now. You were fed up with these stupid feelings that have been overcoming you for the past few weeks. Getting attached and growing feelings for the enemy? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? Even though the Cassano family didn’t have you as a main priority in their ranks anymore, there’s a reason why you were their main spy. You always stuck to the task to get it done, even in the times when you were sent to spy on the most gorgeous men in Italy, you always came through by ending your mission with their blood in your hands. You never second guessed your mission.

Until now.

You don’t know what’s so special about Han-seok. If anything, he’s the most psychotic guy you’ve been tasked to spy on. Sure you’ve dealt with a load of crazy men, but not ‘Han-seok level crazy’. Maybe it’s the way he walks with power and is strategic with his plans but is also a complete dork. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t take shit from anyone, no matter who they are to him. Maybe it’s the way how he treats you differently, and you’ve picked up on it too. He doesn’t take Ms. Choi, Mr. Han, or even Han-seo out for ice cream, or invites them to accompany him on regular every day tasks. Not once has he yelled at you or even came close to “punishing” you for your failures. Because you have “failed” him, when you couldn’t “beat” Vincenzo in certain situations. It was all a mess.

A mess you could end right now. You could get rid of this stupid fantasy your mind has been playing and flee from Korea. You could move to the States and start a new life there. Just forget about everything.

Han-seok raised an eyebrow and shot you a quick wave when he noticed you still aiming the gun at him. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t answer him. You remained frozen as your eyes began to brim with tears instead.

Why am I fucking crying?

Han-seok was more confused than ever at your reaction, and he began to wonder what was going on in your pretty little head. Did the man actually hurt you to the point where you were left traumatized? The thought itself made him feel an undeniable amount of rage, which is why he didn’t care as he stepped on the man’s hand when he began to walk towards you.

He called out your name, but you still had no reaction as you were lost in your thoughts.

“Give me the gun,” he ordered.

Shoot him! Just shoot him!

You were absolutely losing your mind. Your hand began to shake and your vision was clouded with tears at this point.

Why can’t I fucking shoot him?!

The moment you felt him grip the gun, you knew it was too late. He took it from your hold, put the safety on, and tossed it aside. Neither of you said anything for a while. You leaned back against the table as you began to space out, feeling out of touch with reality.

“I’m sorry I..” you stopped yourself from saying anything else. You were showing weakness to him, something you despised.

“Shh,” he remained calm, which was a surprise to you. His fingers brushed the side of your cheek and you felt yourself completely melt at the touch.

You involuntarily leaned into him, and he moved his hand to cup your cheek instead, his thumb rubbing the skin underneath your eye.

“All my life, I’ve been good at what I do.” You don’t know why you’re saying this but you couldn’t stop yourself from telling him. “My mother died giving birth to me, and for six years, my own father neglected me. He would beat me for any little thing I did wrong in his eyes and he constantly made me feel the burden of being the cause of my mother’s death. He was a thief and beggar, and would use me to do his dirty deeds in stealing. That’s the only reason why he kept me for a while, but little six year old me thought we were bonding. One night I made him something and I thought he would love it, but he went berserk and beat me so bad that he left me for dead. I remember him spitting on my small little body and saying that I’ll never be his daughter. He was surprised to find me still breathing the next day so he tried to sell me off and sex traffic me, but that didn’t work on his end. I grew up, was trained by the best, and spent years trying to find his sorry ass. When I did, I made sure to make him feel every bit of pain he made me go through.

“I got a shot in having a second family and I felt so happy, until they started to turn their backs on me as well. Deep down, I felt tossed away. It started to feel like they only kept me because of how good I was in completing missions for them. It didn’t feel like I was important to them, and I fucking hated it. Just like my father, they pushed me away, and only saw use of me whenever it benefited them.”

Much to your surprise, Han-seok was listening to your words. The way his beautiful brown eyes looked at you oddly made you feel safe, so you continued to spill everything to him.

“But working for you is different. Even though you send me on tasks to do some of your dirty work, you acknowledge me. You don’t order me to leave you alone. You treat me like I’m somebody. Even when I fail against Vincenzo at times, you don’t punish me for it. I’ve been losing my mind lately and,” you paused for a second as you swallowed. “I think I need to stop working for you and leave Korea.”

You felt his fingers on your skin twitch. “Why?”

God, is he really asking you why?

“I just have to.”

His face hardened. “That’s not a reason. Tell me why.”

“If you’re worried I’m going to tell anyone about what Babel and Wusang are up to, I’m not. I just want to leave this country and go far away as possible.”

He let out a dry laugh. “You’re not leaving.”

“You can’t make me stay.”

“Watch me.”

“What are you going to do? Threaten me? Keep me hostage? Kill me? What exactly are you going to do to make me stay, huh? There’s nothing in this world that I care for.”

Except for Vincenzo, but he doesn’t need to know that, and your brother will understand you needing to abandon the mission for personal reasons.

Han-seok brought his other hand up to cup your opposite cheek, his eyes connecting with yours. “If you give me a good enough reason, then maybe I’ll reconsider letting you leave. Sooo, talk.”

Oh god, are you really going to tell him? This will either end really bad or give you the opportunity to leave. You took in a deep breath and mentally prepared yourself for what you’re about to say.

“I fucked up big time. My task is to work by your side and get my hands dirty for you. This is strictly just business. But I,” you paused before continuing, “I literally fell for you. My stupid ass really fell for you.”

His hands dropped from your face and he took a step back. Your confession has completely stunned him and he has no idea what to do or say.

“It’s so unprofessional of me and so embarrassing. I don’t know how or when it happened. I think it was from that time you cleaned my wounds after my big fight with Vincenzo, I don’t know. I’m just disappointed in myself for stooping so low to this.” You grabbed the nearest rag and began to wipe away the leftover blood on your skin. “I’m going to raid this asshole’s closet, change, and take my leave. I enjoyed working for you Han-seok, and you have my word that I won’t spill any of your dirty business to the world.”

You began to walk away from him, thankful that he wasn’t making a scene or trying to get more embarrassing information out of you. The feel of his rough hand clasping around your wrist made you whirl your head, and you looked up at him with confusion.

“What are you–”

“Oh shut up and kiss me beautiful.”

And he immediately pressed his lips against yours. Unlike last time, you didn’t hesitate in kissing him back and you gripped his tie before pulling him down closer to you. His hand cupped the back of your neck while he placed his other one on your hip, pulling your body closer as the kiss grew feverishly. You didn’t even realize you both were walking backwards, and when your butt bumped into the edge of a table, he quickly hoisted you up and sat you down on it.

He stood in between your legs and his hand started to touch your exposed leg, sliding itself underneath your dress as he began to rub circles on your inner thigh. Your arousal grew and you bit back a moan. Jesus, he’s not even touching you there yet and you’re already wet for him. Your hook ups weren’t even able to bring this reaction out of you — not even when they were deep inside you too.

You were just about to reach down to unbuckle his belt when his phone began to ring. Han-seok slammed his hand on the table and pulled away, irritation clear on his features.

“What?” He answered with annoyance, but the moment he felt you kissing up his neck, he relaxed.

You could hear a female voice on the other line, pinpointing it to be Ms. Choi.

“Yes I found her. Next time, make sure to do a background check on the drivers you send.” You heard more talking before he scoffed. “You’ll apologize to Miss Marino, not me. I’ll head over there now.”

He quickly hung up and set his phone down, tilting your chin up so yours eyes could meet his. “Sorry baby. The party is boring without me so they need me back.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname. “I guess,” you sighed before pointing at the dress. “Although I do need a wardrobe change. My dress is ruined.”

He looked down at the blood stains and his nostrils flared for a bit. “Did he touch you? If so,” he reached over to the table and grabbed the bloodied scissors, “I can always rearrange his face more. Snip snip.”

You laughed at his last words before grabbing the scissors out of his hand. “There’s no need for that, I already took care of it. Stupid asshole wished he could touch me, but seriously, I need to buy a new dress.”

“Hm, tell me where you bought that one because you look amazing in it. After that, we’ll head to the party since it’s not fun without me.”

Somehow, a very naughty thought popped up in your head.

“Or,” you grabbed his tie and pulled him down towards you. “We could have a little bit of fun ourselves.”

You saw him swallow and his eyes widened just a little bit. If there’s any way to describe him right now, he looked so innocent, as if his secret little persona as Joon-woo emerged and completely replaced Han-seok. But that surprised look completely went away when his hand found its way to your neck, and he gave it a light squeeze, enough to turn you on again.

“Oh baby, I’m going to ruin you.”

And right there is the moment you knew that there was no going back. This wasn’t just an undercover mission anymore. Jang Han-seok, the CEO of Babel, has you completely wrapped around his finger, and you could care less. Any sense of morality that you had left has gone out the window at this point. This man can tell you to torture or kill anyone for him, and you’ll do it in a heartbeat.

You were at his mercy, and you fucking love it.

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