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youremyheaven · 1 month

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Is Angelina Jolie a Punarvasu Rising or a Pushya Rising?

Angelina Jolie's reported birth time is 9:09 am and is said to be a Pushya Rising, had she been born 10 minutes earlier, she would have Punarvasu Rising. Given that this is a very small window of time and highly likely for her birth to have taken place 10 minutes earlier (birth certificates often report a rough estimate not an accurate minute-by-minute statement) I am inclined to believe that she may indeed be a Punarvasu Rising.

According to Claire Nakti, on her post about the beauty and appearance of Punarvasu natives, she had remarked that due to Punarvasu's Jupiter influence, its natives often have really large features, especially the eyes and lips but also the chin and cheekbones.

L to R

Sharon Tate- Punarvasu Rising

Angelina Jolie

Lisa Bonet- Punarvasu Rising

All of them have a similar face shape, very prominent eyes and cheekbones and chin and large features overall.

The only feature of her appearance that can be attributed to Saturn influence (assuming she's Pushya Rising) is her bone structure. Still, if she were Punarvasu Rising then she'd have Ascendant conjunct Saturn so Saturn would affect her appearance anyway.

Angelina also has twin children, Knox & Vivienne who are Punarvasu Sun

Our children represent our karma and Angelina does have Saturn in Punarvasu in her birth chart

Since the constellation of Punarvasu features the twin stars Castor & Pollux (which are, interestingly the names she had picked out for them when she was pregnant with them), many famous twins tend to have Punarvasu placements and some famous Punarvasus tend to have twins

Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon with her fraternal twins, Moroccan and Munroe

The IG famous Clements twins (Ava & Leah) are Punarvasu Sun (conjunct Mercury)

Duality is an innate theme of Jupiter and many other Jupiter natives also have twins or are twins:

Scarlett and Hunter Johansson, Vishaka Moon

Lisa Marie Presley, Purvabhadrapada Moon with her twin daughters, Harper & Finley

Angelina's elder daughter, Shiloh is Rohini Sun & Moon (Angelina is Rohini Sun) and since the twins are Punarvasu Sun, I am inclined to believe that perhaps Angie is a Punarvasu Rising.

(please note that the only reason I am not mentioning her adopted children is that the birthdays of adopted children are often assumed/approximated since birth certificates or such data cannot always be obtained as they're abandoned as babies :((( but all in all, all of our children, biological or adopted, represent our karma)

Other than all this, the reason I am strongly inclined to believe Angelina is Jupiter-dominant is because of this video. In this video, Claire explains how Jupiter natives tend to have a drastic makeover or change in persona/image as they integrate their shadow and individuate. She placed a lot of emphasis on how these women "feminize" themselves (Jupiter is a masculine planet and often these women are kind of shabby or tomboyish or scrappy and then go through a journey where they embrace their "femininity" and get more attention as a result of it).

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These are some images of Angelina from her teen years. She dropped out of high school at the age of 14 due to constant bullying and has talked about being unpopular in school. (the "invisible phase" of Jupiterean women)

Keep in mind that if she is Punarvasu Rising then it conjuncts her Saturn in Punarvasu, which means not only does she experience the expansiveness of Jupiter but she has to learn how to contain this boundlessness within the restrictive nature of Saturn. Saturn conjunct luminaries also give the native excellent bone structure 👀and difficult and turbulent life experiences that drive one to self-purification (Angelina turned to spirituality and humanitarian work in her mid-20s and has credited it with helping her turn her life around and find purpose and meaning).

Jupiter women go through most of their early lives being very unrefined, kind of scrappy if not tomboyish. They're very passionate and devote themselves to their hobbies and interests but they neglect themselves and don't really put effort into their self-presentation.

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Angelina is 16yrs old in this interview and if you observe the way she talks, her body language etc, she's very awkward but more open, kind of saying whatever, she's more "free" in some sense because she's not poised or refined yet.

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This is her at the age of 24 and she's outgrown her teenage awkwardness but she's still in her rebel era, she hasn't integrated her shadow yet

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This is Angelina in the year 2003, she's 28 years old and you can see how she's become more feminine, more poised, more ladylike, there is a glow to her and she seems calmer and composed as opposed to the kind of frantic, restless energy of her older interviews. This is a year after she adopted her son Maddox in 2002. She has credited her time in Cambodia (she went there for the first time in 2000) leading up to the adoption of her son Maddox as having been instrumental to her transformation as seeing the aftermath of the Khmer Rouge opened her eyes to human suffering and she grew committed to humanitarian work and living her life more responsibly (she had previously struggled with heroin addiction and famously hired a hitman to kill her)

“I never thought I’d have children,” she said. “Having come from a broken home, you kind of accept that certain things feel like a fairy tale, and you just don’t look for them.”

“I knew once I committed to Maddox, I would never be self-destructive again.”

Punarvasu's deity Aditi is the mother of all Gods and is also the God of earth & harvest. Motherhood is a very significant experience for Punarvasu women. Goddess Aditi was mother to the 12 Adityas and vedic texts mention Punarvasu women as being "blessed with sons". Many famous Punarvasu women can be cited as examples, most notably, Miranda Kerr, Punarvasu Moon who has 4 boys, Gwen Stefani, Punarvasu Moon who has 3 boys, Shakira, Punarvasu Moon who has 2 boys.

Angelina has repeatedly credited her son Maddox for helping her become "a woman" and that she felt called to be his mother.

At what age did you feel the most at ease with your femininity?

"When I first became a mother, and now. That sense of ease grows and changes with each passing year and each stage in life. For me, it is about learning to accept yourself and accept what life brings."

Being a mother of 6 and a humanitarian is a huge part of her public image. She went from being a weird punk who wore vials of blood kissed her brother and did knife tricks on late-night shows to this very poised, refined, elegant woman.

She was this Hollywood eccentric widely considered a freakshow and in a couple of years she became one of the most admired women in the world. This emerged from the shadow to her light and became one whole integrated being. Punarvasu being "the return of the light".

Her fame rose to astronomical levels in the mid-2000s following her makeover and Angelina quickly became an A-list celebrity. Punarvasu and Jupiter in general test the natives so their lives are full of ups and downs until they find balance. Even though her father was an Oscar-winning actor, Angelina did not grow up with much money as her parents divorced when she was young and she was raised by her single mother (who wasn't rich or famous). She in fact started modelling as a teenager to support her mother. Then in her later life, she accumulated immense wealth and currently has a net worth of $120 million. (her birth nakshatra of Revati is also a wealth giving nak along with Punarvasu).

She underwent a drastic transformation and we saw her shed her darkness or emerge from her shadow into the light. This transformation also brought her immense attention and saw her rise in status. This is a uniquely Jupiterean journey. Especially with her Ascendant conjunct Saturn, her life was full of karmic trials, be it being of service to humanity, her many marriages, her 6 children, losing her mother to cancer, her own battles with health and all of this before she even turned 40 as Jupiter natives undergo many trials and tribulations when they're young.

Another feature of Punarvasu's return of the light theme is doing things better the second time around or having multiple chances to get it right. This often means multiple marriages (Miranda Kerr, Mariah Carey, Gwen Stefani etc come to mind rn) and Angie has been married thrice 👀

All of this leads me to believe that Angelina Jolie is a Punarvasu Rising and not a Pushya Rising.

#astrology notes #astrology observations #sidereal astrology #vedic astro notes #astrology #nakshatras #vedic astrology #astro observations #astroblr #astro notes #jyotish #angelina jolie #pushya #punarvasu #Youtube

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precious-little-scoundrel · 5 months

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Like Lightening

Summary: A Snapshot of Elvis and Elaine, newly married, hardly satiated, very in love

Warnings: 18+ entirely made up of fluff and smut and fluffy smut, sorry to the sweet ask -this got a bit off track. We don’t have them going at it like bunnies herein so much as alluding to that having been happening and determined to continue. What we do have is a lotta smutty thoughts, breeding kink, innocence kink, oral sex fem receiving, unkosher usage of baby oil, the very beginning of penetrative sex, some begging and dirty talk…most importantly we’ve got a bit of body consciousness, Elaine is slightly embarrassed by her new stretch marks and her pretty husband sets out to show her they’re incredibly cool

Word count: 5k

Hope you enjoy sweet anon, so sorry your original ask got eaten by tumblr, I hope this notification finds you!

Elaine had taken to water calisthenics classes at the Elders Club in Killeen Texas out of sheer need to move without dying of heatstroke. Swelling each day into a fluffy little matron, Elaine made house for Elvis on base one month after the next as May and then June and then July ticked on by in a sweltering dust cloud. And, whenever she wouldn’t be missed, the new Mrs Presley dashed to the pool and swam with the grandmas.

It drew a bit of a crowd, this swimming of hers, and Elvis, sympathetic and prouder than anything, took it upon himself to order from the catalogs the very best and loveliest and most advantageous swimsuits to accommodate his wife’s growing belly and plush breasts to their best advantage. He also threatened crushed jugulars and broken spines if any of his army buddies so much as drove by the dinky place for a peek at his ripe little woman.

Truth be told the larger she grew, the more evident her condition, the fruit of his loins obvious to the world, the more Elvis’ excitement for her grew. If breaking her innocence had proven more tantalizing in theory than practice and if her submission had been a versatile thing he found himself often teetering under the sway of, this, her ripening form, was one fantasy that matched his dreams.

In the early morning her plush body wrapped beside his was the only thing dragging him out of bed for basic and to watch her clip clop about in heels and a ever stretched apron while serving him breakfast was a sorta dream state of things he hadn’t dared hope would be as perfect as it was in reality. All that sickly pallor and nausea of the early months had vanished in its place he had a freckle-nosed bride shimmying into dresses increasingly too fitted. Zippers groaned and buttons popped in their little house on base and Elvis gloried in it, sat on the edge of his bed and watched her dressing struggles with splayed thighs and appreciative groans. He reveled in putting his hands on her to aid her and glutted at what he’d done to her fresh little self. He liked to tease her to “suck in” when her bust no longer fit in her old dresses.

“You’re carryin’ my whole world” he told her time and again, whispering it into her ear and squeezing her tight. He sang to his babies and they quited, he read to them from the Gospels and they kicked: “just like the John the Baptist” and in the latter months when he’d teasingly mimic a babe's cry when snuggling his wife, her breasts would begin to leak.

And now the swimsuits. Graduating up one size after another in these later months, Laney had packed on a bit of tush along with her belly and tits and the sway of it, atop long stems sat upon pretty footsies in heeled sandals, drove Elvis and half his army mates wild. See, after awhile, the secret was out and the other army wives came to swim, too. And their husbands became over eager to pick them up after class.

Threats be damned. Elaine Presley was sweet and pretty and often made chit chat with their wives and babies, towel slung uselessly over her shoulders and pool droplets running from her clavicle to the never-never-land of her bosoms when she bent to kiss a child or two goodbye. Just lanky enough to require a bend, that lady, and just affectionate enough to not content herself with head pats.

Dodger observed these things and pondered them but kept her mouth shut, sat like a disapproving crow under a umbrella and sipping gin and tonics after Elaine had insisted they wouldn’t kill her. Elaine liked to press the cold glasses to her throat when playing Bingo on the patio chairs. Eileen Macdermot went home, scandalized, one day at the way the girl splayed her legs over the side of the lounger, like a primitive or else - a man.

These things filling her days and bothering neither of the newlyweds much, if at all, Elvis had come home one evening to the smell of pork chops and gravy and no Laney in his kitchen. Their house was tiny with few rooms and after inspecting the empty single bedroom he proceeded into their bathroom and found her there, stripping out of her sodden swimsuit.

It was black, with lemons on it and white polka dots intermingled and it paired so well with her tanned skin and white headband that Elvis groaned aloud at the sight and spooked his wife who didn’t suspect him home.

“Lord, Elvis-“ She clutched her chest and heaved in a breath, smile breaking out as soon as her shock calmed, “-you’re home early.”

He wrapped a hand around the doorframe and practically lounged against it as much a person could lounge while standing, while vertical, stupid, giddy grin in place. She was halfway through stripping and there was something so very domestic, jarringly normal and almost raw about seeing his swim pink wife in a modest chipped tile bathroom of a single bedroom house, swollen and barefoot. Just one more regular American housewife among many in a tidy row of white picket fenced army accommodations.

Playing house, it was moments like these when it hit him just real enough to taste a dream and chew it and swallow it down till it fizzled out his fingers and mouth in a hunger fueled by gratitude. This wasn’t gonna last forever, not the normality of basic training or the ruthless hours of not belonging to himself, this too would pass he told himself when it got awful. But so would these precious days of just the two of them, Laney alone to putter around their house and think only of him and he to come home to her with only her on his mind and in his arms.

“Elvis?” she prodded again when he barely managed more than a soothing, faraway humm of greeting when she calmed.

“Yes Mrs. Presley?” he asked, doorframe digging into his cheek, wondering when she was going to drop the lovely sweetheart neckline she was clutching to those creamy tits that heaved under his stare like she didn’t endure such admirations regularly.

“A-are you going to-“ she was oddly hesitant, his pretty wife tonight, she’d been a bit voracious recently as the health came back to her but maybe it was just the fright.

“Am I gonna what, babydoll?” he asked softly, eyes flicking up to meet hers and he saw a little panic brewing in their warm depths. “Why, what’s this, huh? Caught ya at something?” he teased her, genuinely unsure of what was amiss and why she still clutched the soggy suit to her goose pimpled skin. “You’re gonna get cold, shuggums.” he straightened up and moved towards her, army boots mashing down the pretty green pile of the bathroom rug.

She stepped back reflexively before catching herself and giving a forced little laugh and shrug, a shrug that was very hampered in it’s carefree intentions with the way her arms crisscrossed over her chest. Perhaps he’d been too eager for her lately, he thought with self chastising consternation, perhaps she was flighty from soreness or neglect of more cerebral pursuits or maybe it was bad news from home.

“Is everything alright?” he finally asked, grave and soft spoken.

“Oh yes I was just-“ she mumbled, gesturing to the pink marbled countertop and its bottle of baby oil and pearlescent nail polish “-about to moisturize. The pool, the chlorine it…I’ve become itchy lately after going in. Doctor said it was normal, stretching and such but-“ she raised her eyes to his and they looked so young without the coal lining of cosmetics, sometimes he forgot his Tink wasn’t an ancient love goddess, just a sweet and unsure teenage girl. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

It didn’t make sense why her tone would be apologetic about that. He was early and she was industrious, dinner already baking and even if she hadn’t -they’d been making such ravenous love of late that often they ate charred remains of her carefully made meals or else opted for burgers at the joint in town. There’d been no apologies then; why now?

“C’mere babeh, lemme help.” he drawled and before she knew it he’d slinked across to her and laid his warm hand on her chilled shoulders.

Such lovely, large hands, they spanned her shoulders and a clavicle each, thumbs meeting like a little talisman adornment at the hollow of her throat. Seconds before he even did it she could predict the soothing swipe of his thumbs there, and so he did, and like clockwork she found herself taking in a larger breath, one that expanded her chest and made her clutched swimsuit a little obviously absurd. She used the breath he’d given her to let out a sigh of defeat.

“I’ve been growing.” she admitted rather resignedly and at this admittance Elvis had to check himself from nodding in furious, appreciative agreement, there was invisibly some catch here and in his own enjoyment of her ‘state’ he tried his damndest to recall it must be uncomfortable at best, growing and stretching and creating life inside one’s guts. Hell he wanted to die sometimes from too many sandwiches, how much fuller she must feel, about ready to burst with kids.

So he restrained his enthusiasm and nodded encouragingly. “Mhmm.”

“All perfectly normal, doctor says it is and others too, all the others say so. Nothing out of the ordinary and I was expecting it. Yet still, it’s quite-“ Elaine trailed off on this long prelude and Elvis held his breath lest his concern leach into impatience.

“Buuuuut?”

“But it doesn’t lessen that it’s quite ugly.” Once decided upon a course she finished up quite tidily but Elvis found himself further confused.

“What is, baby?” he asked, bewildered. “What’s ugly?”

“This.” she gestured resignedly at her belly and scratched the clinging nylon, her skin irritated from the pool.

“Don’t, stop that.” he chided softly, knowing it would make it worse and caught her waists in his hands, swaying them between them gently. “I don’t know what you’re on about but let’s get oil on there so you ain’t so prickly.” he suggested and let go of her hands, dropping them gently before raising his hands to her shoulders again and sensuously trailing his fingertips over the swell of her breasts till he met lemons and polka dots, and peeled the material down away ever so gently. “How’d you plan on hidin’ from me?” he asked her as the pert darlings came into view with the enlarged areolas and lengthening nipples.

“I wasn’t planning!” Elaine protested, biting her lip as he tugged further “It just- it showed up out of nowhere and it’s-“

He’d managed to peel the thing over half her ponderous belly, uncovering her belly button, when he caught sight of something entirely new. Red with a tinge of silver, a split, a crack, a bolt, scarred across her navel, running up and down -straight as a proper zig zag.

“Well. Goddamn.” he breathed, sitting back on his heels to take it in. His hand shook a little as he laid his palm on the stretch mark, an awed expression on his face as it was nearly the length of his whole hand. “Why, goddamn Tink,” he repeated, marveling, “you’ve got yourself an honest to God lightnin’ bolt on yous.”

Like her belly were heaven and in the paying of her dues for such a miracle as two lives with one body, it had been rent like a sheet. His stomach churned, something a little worshipful filling him. He took his hand away, marveling at the perfect design.

A lightning bolt. That’s not at all what Elaine expected from him, some kindness and maybe even relieving indifference, she anticipated that despite her embarrassment, but awe wasn’t on the cards. “I guess it rather does look like…that.”

“Looks like Shazam done paid you a visit, lil mama.” he nodded enthusiastically and Elaine laughed before she could help herself, thinking it funny her naked state was suddenly a costume in his mind. “Don’t you see it?” he crunched down to his knees and took her still suit clad hips in his hands and turned her towards the mirror.

“I-I suppose it bears some resemblance.” she muttered with distaste at the sight of it only more angry and prominent since the pool. “It’s a horrid color, looks like an scar already-“

“-oh hush up it’s amazing.” Elvis swatted her backside with his hand and she yelped, the jangle of his watch chain familiar as was his grinning face at belly level. “You’re mama’s all down on herself,” he loudly whispered to the babies inside her house, “don’t appreciate the fact she’s lookin’ like an gen-u-ine superhero. I know how to solve that.” he muttered darkly and Elaine felt him gather her hands again and he placed one in the counter for stability before he yanked the rest of her wet costume off, letting it pool round her ankles and helping her disentangle it.

“What are you going to do?” she asked with some trepidation as she stood fully naked before his keeling, uniformed, booted figure.

“Gonna convince ya.” he stated sure of himself before reaching for her nail polish, the pearlescent, silver shimmer of it drawing his eye like a magpie. “Gold would suit better, but between you’n’me doll, we’ll assume it’s platinum.” he murmured conspiratorially before giving her a solemn wink and unscrewing the cap.

Before she could worry for his trousers, he didn’t carry her foot to his knee and paint her toes. No. Instead he brought the tiny brush and its icy paint to her belly and began to swipe it along the design of her recent marring. Elaine gasped at the chill and in shock of his ingenuity, the tongue bitten concentration on his pretty face and the way his free hand splayed on her skin like an artist’s beside its canvas, anchoring his work.

Tink was yet a new little thing, barely broken into the art of the marriage bed and now accommodating his children, her bred little body hadn’t yet widened in all the ways it would eventually come labor. Her hips were beginning to comically expand whereas her waist in the back remained tapered and gave her a nearly illustrated quality to her proportions, that Elvis had begun to obsess over watching in the mirror when he was taking her.

Everything about her was ripe and taut and now this. He found his eyes going glossy and he tried to finish his painting in a tidy manner, his groin pusing distractingly beneath the material of his slacks as he worked lower, catching a whiff of her own interest in those soft curls.

He could almost taste her by memory.

He pulled away and surveyed his work, immensely pleased with the glistening silver lightning bolt stamped across his children's abode.

“It’ll smear with the oil.” was all she said, soft, distant.

“Then we’ll have to let it dry.” he decided, letting his fingers trace up the backs of her shapely thighs, appreciating soft flesh and toned ridges. He gave it some thought before he pursed his lips and blew. His cold breath blasted against the freezing polish and Elaine felt herself start, a gush of arousal puddling between her lips, almost burning at her entrance as she tried to clench it shut, keep some demureness in the face of it all. She thought she’d caught him sniffing, it wouldn’t do to have her legs a running mess with her need.

But the chilled ghosting of his breaths, the tantalizing burn of his fingertips’ trail- they made her throb and Elaine let out a helpless little moan, shifting on the pink rug in restless wanting.

“What’s that, baby honey?” he asked softly, looking up at her equal parts eager and questioning. “Makin’ you feel funny?”

“It’s the oddest sensation.” she shivered.

“What’s it make you want?”

“You.”

“Which’aways?”

“All of the ways.” she giggled bashully and stared at her swollen reflection and his at faucet level in the mirror, kneeling still. She chose to put her foot on the counter top, opposite hand balancing against the wall, “Elvis, won’t you lick me, please?” she asked.

“Since you ask so nicely.” he whispered, “And since you hold the power of a million universes.” he gestured to her belly once more before ducking his head running his nose along the seam of her slit, nudging her nosing like a puppy.

He hadn’t even kissed her mouth in greeting. He regretted that before opening his poofy lips and beginning to caress her pretty pink labia like he was smooching a lover. A gush let out against his chin, she must’ve been keeping that to herself for some time, there was too much of it. As was the pained moan that followed as her cunt clenched around nothing at his expert manipulations and teases. He opened his jaw and gathered as much of her in as he could before closing his mouth and sucking, amused at the sounds of shock she made as he swirled her, guarding her from his teeth, just his tongue and lips and the hot inferno of his mouth turning her to puddy.

He reached into his pants pocket and adjusted himself, and finding the need to touch too strong to ignore, he kept his hand there and jostled his stick and balls like a boy, moaning further into the taste of her as she came down from her high. She tasted different since pregnancy, and of late, was wet at whim. Elaine was as puzzled and shocked by the changes in her own body as he was, and it gave Elvis immense satisfaction to further surprise her with what he could draw from it. It drove him mad, this shock of hers, and he flattened his tongue and gave her a few parting, broad strokes to collect his winnings as she shoved at his shoulders in helpless, sensitive distress, yelping and shuttering and her propped leg kicking the bottle of oil over and off the counter.

He caught it before it hit the ground without even pulling his face from her muff. Elaine giggled again at his skill before whining at his repeated attempts to slurp at her sensitivity.

“You still gots an itch, lil mama?” he asked her, finally pulling away and looking up at her from under the dome of her belly, his hands planted on hips and his face aglow with her pleasure.

“I do.” she whined breathily, slumping against the wall.

He neared her again with his face and she questioned his motive the whole way until he stuck out his tongue and tried the nail polish on her belly. “S’dried.” he informed her as if he hadn’t just done a stupid thing and then with a decisive nod of his head, swiftly rose back to his full height and presented his hand to her.

“You come with me now, and I’ll tend to it.” he said and, meek as a lamb, Elaine put her little hand into his sticky one and he tugged her into the bedroom, oil bottle in hand. “If we’d been bad, mamas, if we’d been real naughty like, if I’d been a lil less good to ya, we’d be a couple of young folks new married and you swellin’ and barely a pan on the stove or a mattress on much else but floor. We wouldn’t be playin’ house in this lil shack, we’d be livin’ it and barely makin’ it.” he explained to her and Elaine was confused by his meaning, his analogy too, and where this was coming from, but pliant and tripping over her own feet from post orgasmic clumsiness, she chose not to question it, assumed it was play acting of sorts as he led her to the foot of their bed and sat himself down on the floor, still holding her hand. “But even then, Laney baby,” he glowed up at her with a bright, crooked grin on his slick face, “even if we was poor as dirt, I’d invest in a mirror so I could watch that tight lil snatch under your pretty belly swallowing me down like it’s got hunger pains.”

Elaine whirled around and stared at the mirror opposite the bed, positioned lovingly in the tiny space of a walkway where she might view the effect of her outfits and he might straighten his uniform, but perhaps more intentionally, it was placed opposite the bed where Elvis managed to configure them most times in some manner and at some point in their lovemaking so that they were near the foot of the bed and he might watch. Recently Elaine had come to enjoy the nearly lewd prospect of her growing body being gripped and kneaded and caressed, the unarguable beauty of it in the reflected image convincing her of prettiness she herself did not always feel.

The act, him, her responses to them both -they were all still new to her and now this, this pregnancy and the surprise of a million unexpected things.

Surveying themselves in the mirror she thought he looked a bit more debauched than herself, fully dressed though he was. He sat on the floor like a drunk, pussy dazed and loose, legs splayed and collar wet, pit stains prominent and swollen outline bulging in his pants. In his dishevelment he looked worse news than her wholesome nakedness and she licked her lips at the thought that it wasn’t at all wrong to indulge in such a dangerous fella. He belonged to her, and she to him.

“Did you ever think about it, Elvis?” she asked eagerly, her face aflame.

“Think of what, darlin?” he murmured, lazily undoing his fly and pulling himself out, pumping his fat pink member with an elegant pump of his wrist, ogling her appreciatively like she was a poster looming above him and not a living woman stepped between his thighs.

It made her drip. Elaine could feel the slick down to her knee, a stray dribble escaping her curls. Since marrying, since rubbing shoulders with other married women and being allowed into the gossipy little circles on base, she had begun to grow an inkling of awareness that her case was rather special. It was true, all couples made love, most couples had children, and plenty of couples were in love. But there were extracurriculars, such as she had been led to believe quite common in her own marriage, that were rarely mentioned by others, and if so, done with scandalized and hurried admittance. Elaine had begun to notice that while plenty of men liked their wives, wanted their wives even, there was a peculiar singleness of focus to her husband‘s interest in her that was not matched by others. Why, she’d even become aware of men’s magazines and the reasons for their existence, and yet never had seen one in her husband‘s possession, although she had awoke plenty of times to the sight of him pleasuring himself over her sleeping form, or as he was now, unabashedly admiring his view. She was in essence, both fantasy and form for him.

It was enough to make any woman proud and wet.

“Think of what?” he repeated with a laugh and an edge to his voice, looking up at her under an arch brow.

Elaine snapped out of her daydream and stepped up to him, enjoying the way his hands cupped the back of her knees, a little tickle, his head leaned back against the mattress. “Did you ever think to -think of…taking me sooner?” she asked, carding her fingers through his hair. “Ruining me early?” she smiled at the thought, at how clueless and helpless she’d have been if one of those nights on the den floor at Graceland during their short engagement, if one of those times he had rolled atop her - her sleeping father be damned - and had his way. It wasn’t his style but she wondered, what with the way Elvis could barely make it to the wedding, now that she knew what she knew, she wondered. In another world, would she have been a plundered little thing and he a dutiful young bachelor with a set of twins in need of a baptism to cover their conception?

“Thought of it every goddamn night.” he admitted earnestly, “Ruined a couple dozen pants over it.”

“No!”

“Mhmm.”

“Heavens. But never- you never-“

“-not while I was with ya. Bad as I wanted it.” he tisked, “I done told ya, you’re special baby. I was savin’ ya, couldn’t have brought myself to it, had plans for ya.”

Those plans of his were kicking and rolling in her belly as her heart rate sped up with the gentle trailing of his fingers over her thighs and the sight of his bobbing cock, jutting out from his uniform pants.

“I see.” Elaine simpered and pressed her palms to his own, swaying over him before he tugged her down, doing a pretty, clumsy little split over his lap. He groaned at the contact and the sight of her bare backside in the mirror.

“I missed ya today, Mrs. Presley.” he informed her as always and Elaine was grinning when he slotted his mouth against hers in a long overdue lover’s greeting.

Elaine blithely allowed him his smooching way across her throat and the swell of her decollage as she set to undoing his tie with loving firmness, and then stripping the pungent material of his worn shirt off his shoulders and at last tugging his trousers further down which broke his kisses contact and caused much protest. She stayed firm however, insisting that painting her belly with polish was one thing, but if he thought she was going to risk baby oil stains on that uniform, he had another thing coming.

“Your supposition bein’ that I’ll be in some position for stainin’!” he protested as if she were the one with all the wiles and meddlesome ideas.

“What plans did you have for it?” She asked dryly, crouched at his feet and yanking his boots off with much eagerness and little finesse.

“I intended to slather it on my wife.”

“Funny how what’s slathered on me always ends up slathered on you.” she pondered with a pretentious finger to her lips before she was tugged back atop his now bare lap, and spun so that she could lean against his chest.

“S’not always slathered.” he rebuts in a low tone, his voice gone intimate at the new position and their bare cuddling. Elvis hooked his chin over her shoulder and petted the lightening bolt gleaming so well in the mirror, the late summer’s sun beaming through the slanted blinds. He should close them before he did what he intended, before they got nekid in the first place, but if they were just any ole new couple there’d be no need with being off the road and the blinds partially drawn.

He squeezed her harder and reached for the oil. “S’not always slathered, sometimes I manage to get it real nice’n’deep, don’t I?”

Elaine sucked in a shaky breath as she felt him shift beneath her in his reach, the hot, eager firmness of him cradled under her cunt lips. She felt their privates begin to pulse in unison.

“Don’t I?” he asked her, one oily hand splayed low on her belly and the other gripping her jaw.

“Yes.” Elaine moaned, her head lolling back against his shoulder so she might keep his gaze.

His hand began to move again.

Slathering.

“Hmm?”

“Yes, daddy.” she whispered, and saw him smirk in satisfaction.

Witchcraft, it was, the way his hand could go through all the same motions as before but like a switch flipped, his own intent could bleed into his touch and suddenly he had gone from tending her stretched skin to driving her mad, oil and warmth spreading all over her, her breasts shining, her shoulders shining, her thighs aglow and golden.

Shining, all of her.

Elvis hooked his hands under her knees and spread her legs, bent and wide, feet settled far apart on either side of his own thighs. She could see little Elvis twitching futilely against his thigh, glossy, shiny, leaking oil himself. She cupped them both and did some slathering herself, wiping his arousal up her slit, rubbing his head and her puffy bud with her fingertips, the both of them moaning and whimpering in unison at the tease.

“Baby, baby let’s…let’s…” he was saying urgently and she pulled her hand away at his direction, allowing him to bring the bottle between their legs.

She felt that patter of drops against her clit and the silky run of it down to his cock. She ached, back arched and hips grinding against him like she could start a fire with the friction if she moved insistently enough.

“I-I-I want it!” she begged, overcome and her neck straining as she tilted her face to the ceiling. Waterstains patterned the white paint and she squeezed her eyes shut in a exstastic grimace as she felt him pull at his cock and tap it, all oily slapping, at her spread petals. “Elvis, please, please put it in.”

“Mm, m’not sure you’re slick enough.” he disagreed slyly, rubbing his glans against her fiery little hole as her legs kicked out in frustration. She knew he was staring in the mirror at his handiwork without even having to glance there herself. She squinted harder and aimed a thrust downwards, catching him. It was bend or enter. She had him, it took great willpower to hide her smirk as his breath gusted against her cheek.

“My baby still got an itch?” he asked softly, his large hand cupping their joining, just the tip of him snug and cozy inside her swollen channel.

“Yeah.”

“Where?” Elvis rumbled in her ear.

She took his shiny hand and spread it low on the lightening bolt, “Here, real deep.” Elaine whispered, “Right hyer.”

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. Xoxo 💋

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suraemoon · 4 months

Text

It Couldn’t Be Better

Elvis x Reader - snippets of Elvis’ first Christmas with your family

Warnings: None really, just fluff and flirting

WC: 3.8k (was supposed to a blurb idk what happened)

A/N: Look, I’m aware that this isn’t good and is all over the place. I’d spend a few more days on it if I could but today is Christmas (yay!) and it would make no sense to post it any other day. I put in my masterlist that this would hopefully be out by the 25th and here it is. It’s based on the prompts “It could be worse” and something along the lines of “a character’s parent makes them tacky christmas sweaters” Merry Christmas y’all!!!!! I LOVE YOU.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“It could be worse.” Your voice radiates fake optimism as your manicured nails pick a piece of lint from the homemade, bright red knitted sweater on your upper half.

You look up from your quick maintenance to be met with Elvis’ scrunched nose and concentrated eyes as his hand pulls on his sweater's borderline turtleneck collar, a bright “Christmas tree” green to complement yours festively.

The sweaters were beautifully knit with white stripes going back in forth in turn with the chosen festive color. Glued on the knit were an array of tinseled pompoms and ironed on were different designs of patches. Smiles, hearts, stars, animals, santa’s, snowflakes, etc; they all looked like they’d be better suited on a girl’s poodle skirt. “Eh..I guess.”

Your mama had sent you two up to your bedroom to get ready in time for Christmas dinner with your whole extended family.

From her spot next to the stove in the kitchen, one that seemed permanent for her during the holiday season, Mama was cooking up her signature feast and the scent of food filled the air teasingly. The smell enveloped everyone and only built up anticipation for later in the day.

Earlier in the day, when the cold wind flowed in anticipation and the white snowflakes made themselves home, you and your boyfriend had been tasked with cleaning the whole house from top to bottom.

One of the most famous men in the country having his first Christmas at your house? Mama was quick to put a broom in his hand for she had the elder generational quality to not spend her time focusing on pop culture and society but instead what needed to be done in order to keep her home running smoothly, especially during the holidays.

“You need to wash my windows, clean my counters, sweep and mop the floors…”

You couldn’t stop a huff from leaving your lips at the housekeeping task for this was the first year that you desired to be in the kitchen, observant to her methods and helping when you can.

Your mother was easily the best cook you knew, she knew the kitchen like the back of her hand, and with your growing relationship with Elvis starting to become more and more serious, you started thinking about your own cooking skills…well the lack of.

One day you will be handed the baton of Thanksgiving and Christmas meals and there’s no harm in trying to learn the ins and outs of it now.

“You need to give the dog a bath, make sure every bedroom in the house looks neat…”

The urge to be a housewife never striked upon your young ambitious mind until you met Mr. Elvis Presley. He unknowingly had the ability to cooking, cleaning, and raising children seemed so much more desirable. A life centered around being his subservient, supportive wife seemed delicious when his hand was intertwined in yours. A few years ago, a younger and singler you would’ve called yourself crazy. Nowadays you just call yourself in love.

“You got it, ma’am.”

Elvis met this list of chores as long as Santa Claus’ list with a smile for he was a restless person always looking for something to do, always searching for an excuse to move, and you knew deep down that he missed his own mama telling him to do stuff.

Now, a few hours later, that genuine go-with-the-flow grin was replaced with the tug of his lip genuinely trying its best to exude politeness as his hand tugged on the collar of his christmas sweater again, the top of his pale collarbone teasing you in the process.

The sun was now lower in the sky but the clouds did not tire from dropping snowflakes anywhere they could. The warm light of your lamp illuminated your freshly tidied room.

It fit the comfort of the holiday spirit better than the sunshine of the early day where brightness flowed through every window as you cleaned them with a rag, the circular motion of your hand mirrored the making of a snowball. Now the view out of the window was a grayish storm of flurries, weather in which a warm sweater would come in handy.

To make light of an awkward situation, you decide to embrace it and do a quick spin in front of him, showing off your full festive outfit. The cranberry red of your oversized sweater is paired with a black leather mini skirt and black leather boots to match.

It’s an outfit that you wouldn’t usually ever wear for a family event like this. But your boyfriend's overwhelming presence: fingers that you knew would always intertwine with yours as if meant to be, an arm that would never fail to wrap around your waist, feet that would always gravitate towards being around you, it all filled you with an indescribable sense of confidence.

The pure sex appeal Elvis exuded 24/7, seemingly effortless as if the attraction comes with his nature, always inclined you to put your all into matching it’s magnetic energy. The spin stops and your feet go to tippy toes to reach up and kiss his sugar plum lips. “What do ya think?”

Elvis wets his lips as if your lipstick had a flavor and his eyes look you over your figure fully as he takes your hand to give you a quick little twirl. Instead of a full 360 it was more of two 180’s since he stopped a second to take a quick look at your back side.

A low whistle was the background music to the rest of your orbit and his cheeky little smile seemed to glow when in the presence of your maroon red lipstick. “I think I gotta see what’s under it. Gonna let me do a little inspection? Wanna make sure everything’s sitting right…working the way it’s sposed ta.”

“Elvis! It’s Christmas…gotta be family friendly.”

He chuckles as a response comes too quickly to brain, “I wanna get real friendly with you, honey.”

You hit his shoulder playfully, “Stop that.”

“Hey! It’s Christmas, honey. Thought we had to be family friendly and that hitting ain’t very holly jolly of ya. I’m surprised Santa didn’t give ya coal this year.”

“Oh please. I don’t think Santa would mind me putting ya in line for naughty thoughts.”

“I don’t think Santa would mind me bending ya over my knee for a smart mouth but…” He shrugs, putting his sleeves in his pants pockets.

You stick out your tongue at him and he laughs his beautiful laugh. Gliding as if on ice back to the mirror of your vanity, you apply some more blush to your cheeks. Getting a little too warm and secretly having the cheeky desire to show more skin, you subconsciously fold the ribbed collar of your sweater down a little bit.

When met with the black and purple of a hickey on the side of your neck, immediately the collar is put back in its original place, the fabric willing to revert back to how it was supposed to be worn and mocking you in the process as if saying “told you so”.

A whisper escapes your lip, “Jesus…”

Elvis perks up from the seat he has taken on your bed in response, for he loves an opportunity to talk to (and tease) his favorite girl, “Lord’s name in vain on his birthday?”

Your eyes, framed by black liner and an eyeshadowed lid, meet his through the mirror of the vanity, “Elvis what’d ya do to my neck? It ain’t ever been this much before.”

“Hmm…” His arms are at his sides, stabilizing himself against the plush of the comforter, and he looks simply adorable with his false pout as if thinking of a smart remark to respond with.

“Hm indeed.”

He chuckles, “Today about love ain’t it? You don’t wanna put ya collar down and show everyone how much I love ya?”

“Elvis…”

As if automatic, your eyes roll playfully and he decides to continue, “Not gonna show off that pretty little neck, huh? You always look pretty but you look even prettier when you’re all marked up…all claimed.”

“You’re too much.” You shake your head, trying to cool off the influx of red that has awoken on your cheeks.

“People wanna know which one’s E.P.’s girl? Oh, they’ll know. She got the love marks to prove it. She’s the only girl I wanna love on.”

Your soft hands go up to cover your face but they make sure to keep a safe distance in order to not mess up the canvas of progress you have made at the vanity. “Shoo…you’re too distracting. I gotta finish my makeup.”

“So…?”

“So…they’re staying covered.”

A few minutes later, he speaks again from a spot on your bed as you apply the finishing touches of your makeup. “No offense to your mama, honey, but…I don't think homemade holiday sweaters are really in trend. Not these ones at least.”

His slight frown gives way to a bright laugh, a sound prettier than the jingle bells adorning the sleeves of his sweeter.

“Everyone’s gonna be wearing one so we’re all gonna be weird together.”

“Mm.”

“Last year was polka dots…polka dots. So count yourself lucky you weren’t around for that.”

Your mother’s homemade knitted wool Christmas sweaters have been a longstanding tradition in your family since….forever. When asked, it was your great-great grandmother that started it years ago. Or was it your great-great-great grandma? No one would be surprised if the family’s Christmas sweater fascination started way back in the simple days of the cavemen when your neanderthal ancestors were in need of warmth and for some odd reason in addition to fire and sharpened sticks, they had the supplies to create tacky garments of clothing.

You and Elvis started dating in January, so this year was full of firsts with this cold December wrapping it up lovingly in a snug little bow.

When dinner was served at Elvis’ first Thanksgiving with your family, the unusual but warmly content silence around the large, wooden dinner table was interrupted abruptly by your mother’s sudden thought. A soft gasp called for hungry heads to look up from their plates.

You would think there was a lightbulb above her head or that an epiphany to solve world hunger was in her thoughts. Your mama looked at Elvis with a gleeful smile, “I’ve gotta ‘nother Christmas sweater to make this year!” You remember the way Elvis’ smile was apprehension coating in politeness, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Your mama made clothes? How has that never come up?

His blue eyes widened for a full second about two weeks later when he was sat quickly by your mother on the couch with a gift box practically shoved in his hands. “Sit, sit ,sit!” Your mama said as if a little kid again.

The same eagerness did not translate to when you sat down, as by now you knew the routine by heart. You got practically the same gift two weeks before Christmas every single year. Just different designs, patterns, and decor but in its essence the same gift filled with the same love. This was always around the time when mama gave everyone there sweaters either in person or by mail.

Now that you think about it…this giftbox looks suspiciously similar to the same one you opened last year. Is that why your mama made sure you were careful not to break it?

The ornaments on the tree, a brand new one from last year right next to one you crafted out of popsicle sticks and cardboard in kindergarten. The nostalgia and newness blended seamlessly on the forest green branches.

The opening of boxes takes attention away from the tree, a happy presence willing to blend into the background the best it can. Your perfectly wrapped and ribboned rectangle has not even been touched but you watch intently as Elvis tries to carefully peel the tape off the side of the box. Your mother wouldn’t have minded if he tore it to shreds. She would’ve told you off if you had dared, but with Elvis it would’ve been alright.

“Y-you really didn’t hafta get me anything, ma’am. It’s real kind of you.”

Your mother replies matter of factly, “Are you kidding? It’s Christmas! Of course I had to give my son-in-law something.” You and Elvis weren’t married. Not yet. But the law of the heart doesn’t care about physical papers. In the minds of your welcoming family, new people were accepted with open arms and once their hearts got on Elvis they never want him to go.

Elvis brings his attention to you for the first time in a while, lifting your chin up gently with his hands as he admires your face. “You already blessed me with your beautiful daughter. She’s better than any gift, no doubt.” A shade of pink flushes over your face as Elvis gives you a quick, soft kiss.

“Awww. My two little turtle doves. Well, I’m allowed to give ya more than one gift so go ‘head.”

When the top of the box is lifted off, a tiny sweet sounding gasp escapes Elvis’ lips as his eyes fall on the christmas sweater. “O-oh…wow, ma’am. It’s, it’s really somethin’.”

Mama watches intently, “Do ya like it?”

He could pass for a deer in headlights. “More than like it. I can’t wait to wear it for um..Christmas.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the false enthusiasm and at this noise mom’s attention turns straight to you and the box on your lap, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “Are you too cool in front of your boyfriend to open yours?”

Shaking your head, the faint sound of Christmas radio sings in your ears as you open your first gift of Christmas. It’s red to go with Elvis’ green. Youthful to contrast with a growing daughter, homey and nostalgic to compete with a fast, changing lifestyle.

Your smile is genuine as you reply, “Thanks mama. It’s really nice.”

All three of you share the most comfortable of silences. It wasn’t silent really, music flowed through the room and firewood crackled; the background ambience that makes any December day anymore special.

The memories of your mother and her cute interactions with your boyfriend (all of which showing she approved of him greatly) was interrupted by the voice of the man himself. All of sudden you were brought back where you were: in your room getting ready with the person you love the most on the 25th of December.

“You ready to go down, honey? I think I heard some people walk in.”

“Oh..yeah! Let’s go.” Taking his hand, you walk over to the door.

“Wait a second…” Your mind immediately goes to the lamp you left on but his mind is somewhere else completely. He leans down to kiss you, long and hard. The unexpected passion takes you back but your heels stay steady on the ground, all of your attention on kissing him back with the same fervidity. His calloused hand is on your soft cheek and your fingers flow through his black hair. You want the moment to never end but like all things in life it inevitably does.

“Now we can go.” His smirk is teasing and playful. He knows the effect he has on you. He knows by your red cheeks and wide eyes how weak he can make you.

“I-” Practically speechless you just nod and take his hand, walking shakily out of the door. He laughs at the sudden urgency, slapping your behind playfully as you walk in front of him.

When your face, your whole body for that matter, started to become less warm and all of the many happy greetings to family and friends were finished, the evening was going splendidly. Laughs and cheer filled the space and joy at being back together radiated off of everyone in the room.

This year, you started to become more aware of not only yourself but your surroundings. What would this look like to a fly on the wall? What would it look like to a man attending his first Christmas with the loved ones that you have grown up being accustomed to? The Christmas tree shined brightly, decorated with a mismatched array of ornaments that went together perfectly. Every seat had a person and the garlands that Elvis hung up on the walls looked down at everyone adoringly.

From your spot standing in the open arched doorway connecting the dining room and living room you are a true wall flower for a moment. You notice how the group of younger teenage cousins brought their friends over for dinner for the first time ever and it just so happened to be the year where Elvis Presley started to attend the gathering. Giggles and whispers came from the corners of the living room, juveniles no longer embarrassed by matching tacky sweaters.

Looking away, your knowing smirk turns into a wide, adoring smile as you turn your attention to Elvis playing with your littlest cousins on the fluffy rug.

Unlike their older counterparts, their innocent smiles are refreshing for they are oblivious to the fact that it is the Elvis Presley playing with them.

To the little ones, he’s just Mr. Elvis, a friend to play with. He’s cradling the youngest baby gently in his arms while sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. A toddler in two pigtails and a bright pink knit sweater plays in his gelled hair as if on an oblivious mission to mess it up.

Little Jane managed to get her hand on a brush and was trying to play make-believe hair salon with your boyfriend. “Sit still, Mr. Elvis!”

“Oops.” Elvis winces as the hard brush hits him on the side of the head. “I’m trying, honey, I really am. Hard when you’re trying ta pull my hair out.”

“I’m tryna make ya look pretty! If you wanna look a mess just say it.”

“Maybe sometimes I wanna look a mess.”

She groans, “You hardly got a lotta hair anyway. It’s all shiny and too hard ta make ponies.” And just like that, with an attention span the size of her tiny legs, she abandons both Elvis and the brush to go play with a group of older kids about older elementary age.

Elvis chuckles lightly and focuses on the small baby still in his lap, trying to grab at him with chubby hands. His plush lashes flutter gently as he looks down and gives the little cherub all of his pretty attention and you swear right then and there, your heart was about to escape from your chest.

“Ain’t you the cutest? You’re the cutest, ain’t ya?” The baby giggles an infectious giggle and Elvis’ smirk is just as adorable.

“I gotta get myself one of ya. A cute little baby. A littlun just like you.”

“I gotta get myself one of ya.” He’s talking to a baby, and you’re his girlfriend, the only one who can help him with that wish. Stuck in place, your legs feel weak as you lean on the wall next to you for support and your stomach can be easily compared to a snow globe filled with a flurry of snowflakes. If hearts can do somersaults, yours has many times since you’ve met Elvis.

His hand envelops one of the baby’s white socks gently. “Tiny little sooties too.”

The baby’s gummy grin gets wider as he kicks his feet, fascinated with Elvis’ hand like a new toy. Your boyfriend moves up from the itty bitty feet to tickle the tiny belly lying in front of him, then his palm relaxes, moving up and down in a soothing motion over the little one’s soft sweater. By the way Elvis’ pink lips move you can tell he has started to sing a song. It’s a quiet melody just between him and the baby he's holding. The most beautiful, adorable secrets.

When you remember that you are an actual person in the room and your legs feel less like jello, in your head you decide to walk over to the spot on the rug where Elvis is sitting but before your heels could move a second step, the ringing of a bell fills the room.

“Dinner everyone!” The voice of your mother is a saving grace to every hungry soul in the house.

Elvis stands up, holding the baby securely as if he has been a professional at holding infants his whole life. The mother, your eldest cousin, walks over shyly with a blush on her face as she carefully takes the baby from Elvis’ arms so he could go eat.

“You’ve got a really cute daughter, honey…well her mama’s cute so I know where she got it from.”

Flustered, her mouth parts a little as she adjusts the smiley baby on her hip. “O-oh. Um..thank you. Thank you very much.”

He had a way of speaking, a beautiful charm, that could make any woman he comes across blush. No matter how long the sparkly wedding ring has been on their ring finger. By the way she looked at Elvis, you wouldn’t know that the young mother has been married to her actual husband for two years. You’d think the baby in her hands was Elvis’.

Elvis smirked his “I know what I’m doing” cheeky grin and kissed the baby’s cheek before walking away.

Suddenly, You and Elvis start to walk to each other simultaneously as if all that time apart wore you out and you needed another dose, attracting like the opposite sides of the strongest magnet, the two of you meet in the middle of the room.

You’re the next to get your cheek kissed and he whispers to you, “Remember when ya said earlier that things could be worse when I was grumbling ‘bout the sweater.”

“Oh, I remember.”

He holds your hand and begins to lead you to the kitchen as he finishes his thought. “I’ll tell ya. Today couldn’t get better, honey. It really couldn’t.”

As you walk, the voices of tiny children ring out suddenly, “Mistletoe! Mistletoe!” It took Elvis tapping your shoulder and pointing up to notice that the audience was addressing you and him. Through long lashes you look up and indeed a piece of green hangs above in the archway that you and Elvis stand in. To any on-looker the image of you two could’ve been a painting. You indeed felt frozen in time.

“It’s the mistletoe! That’s your boyfriend, you gotta kiss!” The tiny voices continued their protesting.

Elvis smiles at you, “Well, I guess it could get a little better. It’s bad luck to ignore the mistletoe. Need to feel ya on me…been too long.”

“Merry Christmas, Elvis.” Just like that, you reach up and kiss him, your thumb moving back and forth on his cheek as you tilt your head to the side. He starts kissing you back immediately and an eruption of tiny cheers fills the room.

#merry christmas #happy new year #very quickly proofread #not beta'd #elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #50s elvis #elvis x reader #60s elvis #70s elvis #vintage #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley x reader #elvis fluff #elvis x you #elvis x y/n

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isthlsfate · 11 months

Text

*ೃ༄ The Girl Who Spit Flowers

warnings: slow burn, angst, mentions of puke, some dialogue taken directly from the movie, time skips, mentions of death, hanahaki disease :’)

pairing: elvis presley/austin!elvis x reader

word count: 4k

*:･ﾟ✧ ‘56

“ellis presley, blue moon boys, you’re up next.” the stage manager calls towards scotty as he rushes backstage, guitar in hand. he pushes the back door open and descends the stairs, where bill is staring at a poster with their name on it.

the latter lets out a scoff, “ellis presley…got a nice ring to it.”

scotty chuckles and motions for bill to follow him back towards elvis, dixie, gladys, and vernon. gladys gives the boys a kind smile before returning her attention back to her son.

“w-what if i forget the words on live radio? i ain’t no jimmy rogers snow.” elvis panics, sipping on the cola dixie had grabbed for him, “a-and where the hell is (y/n)?! ian’ going on without her!”

dixie looks up at him dejectedly as he hands the bottle of cola back to her, it suddenly feeling like a bag of bricks.

she always felt like she was competing with you. elvis would tell her that you were no more than a friend, but she wasn’t blind. the way you looked at him spoke stories.

“no one expects you to be jimmie rogers snow.” his father speaks, avoiding answering his question.

bill nods, “it’s just a bit of clowning around.

“that’s how we got this thing started in the first place.” scotty joins.

gladys rubs her son’s arm reassuringly, “scotty and bill are right, elvis. you’re not out there on your own. you boys are a band. the lord gave us music to bring people together. we’re like a family, and family’s the most important thing of all.”

“the family ain’t complete without (y/n).” elvis snaps, his nerves getting the best of him. as if on cue, you come through the door and trudge down the steps. your hands are visibly shaking as you wipe the corners of your mouth and force a smile. everyone but elvis seems to notice your unusual demeanor.

you force an awkward laugh, “sorry, i got caught up watching that snow boy on stage.”

elvis frowns at that and immediately opens his mouth to complain. his mother, however, rubs the back of his neck and cuts him off.

“if the good lord wants to speak through song here tonight, we are but vessels of His will. come on now, booby.” she motions for everyone to come in closer, “jesse is shining bright tonight.”

the elder woman looks up into the sky, the rest of the group following suit. she leads in song as one-by-one, they all join.

♪ some glad morning…

when this life is over…

i’ll fly away…

i’ll fly away, oh glory…

i’ll fly away, i’ll fly away…

i’ll fly away, i’ll fly away… ♪

as the song comes to a finish, sam walks through the door followed by marion.

“better get on up! they’ve just made a big announcement about you on the radio.” he says, his face seemingly just as pale as elvis’.

“folks are real excited!” marions quips before nudging him, “sam, don’t look so worried.”

elvis and his family make their way up the stairs, him and the band heading backstage while the rest go find some seats. before you can part with the others, the raven haired boy grabs you by the arm.

“why’d ya disappear like that?” he glares, his blue eyes dark.

you look back at the others nervously, but elvis is quick to grab your chin and make you face him.

“don’t look at them, look at me. what’s going on with you lately?”

“i-”

“elvis come on, we’re on!” scotty calls, saving you from a conversation you weren’t ready to have.

as he walks away, he mouths, “we ain’t done.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊

that night after the show, you, dixie, vernon, and elvis sat at the table awaiting supper. the show was exhilarating, and while you wanted so badly to talk to elvis about it, you didn’t want him asking any more questions about where you’d ran off to. you watch with a bitter taste in your mouth as he and dixie sit close to one another, whispering about something.

you can only sit and watch for so long before you abruptly stand up and head towards the kitchen where gladys is.

“need help with anything?” you speak softly so as to not startle her. she looks up at you and notices the wetness in your eyes. before you can react, she’s pulling you into a loving hug.

“oh, honey. he’ll come to his senses soon.”

you sigh. at times, you wished you had been better at hiding it. gladys promised to keep your secret, but having someone know meant you were being watched. any time you had to step away, any time you randomly skipped supper, she knew. that somehow made what you were going through ten times more painful.

later on, as you all sat at the table eating, elvis cleared his throat.

“i’m gonna be joinin’ hank snow on his tour.”

you choke on your soup, gaining the attention of everyone. feeling the thickness in your throat, you run to the bathroom and lock the door.

“so, without so much as a word to your daddy and me, you quit your job to run around in that rickety jalopy, speeding down dangerous road, getting girls all hopped up.” you can hear the anger in gladys voice as you sit on the tiled floor, head against the toilet. you blink slowly, trying to gain the energy to walk out and put a smile on your face.

“...soon, you’ll be drinking, going off to them slut parties–”

“mama!” elvis cuts her off. you can’t help but feel another painful wave of nausea at the thought.

a knock at the door startles you. you quickly flush the toilet, rinse your mouth, and unlock the door.

“dixie?”

she pushes herself in and locks the door behind her. you stand uncomfortably against the bathroom counter, having never been left alone with her. you knew she didn’t really like you; you had the luxury of knowing elvis since he was a young boy. you were special to him, and she didn’t like that.

“what is going on between you and elvis?” she leans against the door with her arms crossed. you can still hear the commotion going on at the table.

“what do you mean? i–we grew up together, he’s my best friend.”

she scoffs, her face turning a nasty shade of pink.

“are you pregnant with his child or somethin’?”

you can’t help but let out an exasperated laugh. you quickly cover your mouth as you notice the serious look on her face.

“i’m not pregnant, dixie.”

“then what’s with all the runnin’ away, throwin’ up, whisperin’ to gladys?”

your blood runs cold. you should’ve been more careful. you watch as her eye seemingly catches onto something near the toilet.

“shit, (y/n).” is all she says, her angry expression softening. there on the creme colored tiles lays a lone flower petal.

“please don’t tell him.” is all you can get out, tears already threatening to leave your sullen eyes.

“oh, i won’t.” dixie scoffs, “it’s not like there’s anything you can do anyway. elvis is mine.”

the sound of a door slamming causes the both of you to jump. dixie gives you one last glare before leaving you alone. you topple over and choke out some more petals.

as elvis’ career began to skyrocket, your friendship pummeled. you heard from gladys that elvis had broken things off with dixie right before the school formal. she sounded hopeful, but you knew better.

time flew, and the pain refused to suffice.

*:･ﾟ✧ ‘57

gladys ended up asking you to move in with her and vernon permanently. you had stayed in and out of the presley residence since you were thirteen, but by age eighteen you felt you were burdening them and slept on a cot on the upper level of club handy, it was yours in exchange for some labor.

you accepted her offer only because you knew how lonely she was while her son was out and about. you were lonely too.

one morning, elvis came barging in, his pearly whites on show. you were sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal, startled by the loud noise.

“how ya been, darlin’?” he asks, pulling you up from your chair into a warm embrace.

“good. your mama’s missed you.”

he pulls away with a chuckle, “you say that as if ya didn’t.”

before you can argue, gladys emerges from her room and gives her son a big hug. vernon comes soon after and pats the boy on the back.

“i’ve got a surprise for y’all.”

that day, elvis showed you all your new home. graceland.

𓍊𓋼𓍊

“i see you’ve been gettin’ in a bit of trouble.” you chuckle, handing the raven haired boy a newspaper you had collected. he stands up from his spot on your room floor and joins you on your bed. it’d been a while since you two had spent time together.

elvis doesn’t speak for a while, causing you to look over at him with furrowed brows. you nudge his arm gently.

“you alright satnin?” the nickname slips, but elvis doesn’t seem to mind. he turns onto his side and sighs.

“the colonel says i might be gettin’ drafted.”

the air in your room seems to fall still, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“t-that’s insane! you ain’t did nothin’ wrong but express yourself. your own mama thinks it’s okay!” you sit up from the bed and begin pacing, chewing on your lip, “i oughta give that man a piece of my mind!”

you make a move to leave the room, but elvis grabs your arm.

“it’s no use, darlin’. i followed my heart and i gotta pay the price.” he runs a hand through his hair, a sign that his nerves were getting the best of him. you grab his hand and smile reassuringly albeit the pain you felt in your chest.

“how long will you be gone for?”

“two years.”

“two years?!” you shout back, causing the boy to cover your mouth with his hand.

“goddamn (y/n), you want the whole world to hear? i haven’t even told mama yet.”

you look up at the blue eyed boy with sad eyes, your body noticeably relaxing as you realize how badly he needs a friend right now.

elvis drops his hand from your mouth and allows you to fall into his arms, your arms wrapping tightly around him so as to not let him go.

he sniffles, resting his chin in your hair.

“i’ll look after her, e. i promise.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊

not even six months after elvis was gone, you had found gladys unconscious at the top of the steps. your heart shattered as you fell to your knees, trying to wake the elder woman up.

you couldn’t help the sobs that ripped painfully through your soul. not only had you lost someone who was like a mother figure to you, you had broken your promise to elvis”

vernon came running up the stairs at the sound of your cries, his shaky hands pulling you away from her as he too tried to wake her.

it was no use.

on august 14th, 1958, you had lost the one person who knew of your condition and loved you through it.

elvis came back home for a brief period of time, but it was like seeing a ghost. you stayed to yourself, not having the strength to face him. you knew you should’ve been there for him, but every time you convinced yourself to go, you’d find yourself not able to leave the threshold of your door.

not too long after gladys’ passing, grandma dodger was gone too.

graceland had become the shell of a home. it was typically only you and vernon in the home, cousin billy occasionally making an appearance.

a year passed. you busied yourself with work, going back to bussing tables at club handy.

you hadn’t been sick as much, which seemed to be the only plus to elvis being gone. there were some nights, however, when you would think too hard about what he was probably doing in germany and found yourself coughing up petals.

by the time he had returned, seeing elvis was like seeing a stranger.

you all would eat supper together, but the table was silent.

*:･ﾟ✧ ‘63

today was a day like any other, the three of you sitting at the table, listening to the cheerful sounds from cousin billy and his friends outside.

“‘cilla is movin’ in pretty soon.” elvis speaks after he swallows a bite of his food.

you keep your eyes focused on your food, your throat starting to feel thick.

“that’s great, son! when’s the wedding?”

at the sound of those words, you can’t bear to hear anymore. you excuse yourself from the table and walk to your room.

your stomach churns at the thought of living here, hopelessly in love with your childhood best friend as he married another. it didn’t help that your room was right below his.

your thoughts run wild, tears wetting your eyes as you look around the room and begin frantically throwing stuff into a suitcase.

you can’t stay. it’ll kill you.

with tears still running down your face you make your way into the hall bathroom, grabbing a couple of toiletries to bring along with you.

what you don’t expect is to turn around and walk straight into a strong chest.

“just where do ya think you’re goin’?” his thick southern accept sends a chill down your spine.

you muster enough strength to look him in the eye despite the tears still visibly falling.

“i think it’s about time i go out on my own.” you quickly brush past him and head back to your room, but elvis is hot on your tail.

“no one said you had t’do that.”

“i did.” you continue packing your stuff, more furiously than before, “you haven’t even paid me any mind since mama died. i’m not stayin’ here feelin’ like a burden any longer.”

elvis snatches your suitcase from you, not paying any mind to the contents that spray all over. his usually lively blue eyes are dark, storms thundering in them.

“you were the one who stopped payin’ me any mind.”

you ignore him, bending down to pick up your items. you continue to walk around him, packing more things as he stands there, discontent radiating from his body.

the taller male grabs you by the arm, keeping you in place right in front of him.

“look at me, darlin’.”

you obey almost immediately, your lip quivering.

elvis’ eyes seem to look at you, really look at you for the first time in years. he hadn’t noticed how frail you’d gotten, how your (e/c) eyes were sunken and dull, how your seemed like you were struggling just to stand. he frowns, wiping a few tears from your cheeks.

“why’re you leavin’ me, (y/n)?”

“i—“

but its cut off by a gag, and the sudden urge to run. he follows you, but youre too fast, slamming the bathroom door in his face and locking it tight.

his head rests against the door as he listens to you retch, his chest constricting in pain at the sound of your cries.

“satnin, you’ve gotta tell me what’s goin’ on.” he calls, but you don’t respond. he stands there for a solid thirty minutes before getting impatient and going to the kitchen to find something to pick the lock with.

the sight before him makes him immediately fall to his knees beside you.

it seemed like you had no energy to even open your eyes, your head laid against the toilet, the contents of your stomach still threatening to escape.

“i’m sorry.” your voice is barely above a whisper, cracky and pained.

the raven haired male brings you to his lap, holding your head against his chest as he reassures you it’ll all be okay.

he couldn’t help but look into the toilet in fear.

no longer were there tiny petals, but full on flowers.

𓍊𓋼𓍊

“how’s (y/n) doing?” priscilla asks her boyfriend, the two of them sat at the table for breakfast.

despite your protests, he had told you to stay. you were too weak to do anything, your condition worsening once priscilla officially moved in.

elvis hadn’t said anything to you about that night, only making sure that the maids brought you food and checked on you hourly.

“she says she’s alright, but she looks worse then ever.”

“do you know who it is?”

elvis only shakes his head, oblivious to the obvious.

“i’m gonna go check on her.” the brunette says softly, leaving a long kiss on elvis’ cheek before heading down the hall.

she knocks gently, hearing a soft and raspy come in from the other side of the door.

you smile at her, sitting up in bed to let her sit next to you. despite the pain it caused you, you could tell that priscilla was good for elvis.

unlike dixie, she cherished the fact that he had grown up with you, always including you and even taking the time to get to know you.

“you doing alright, (n/n)?” she rests her hand on yours, holding it gently.

“i know you know, ‘cilla.” you sigh, a sad expression on your face, “and i’m so sorry. i wish i could change it. i wish it was anyone but him.”

priscilla tuts, “don’t say that, love. we can’t control who we fall for.”

“did you tell him? he seems distant.”

“he’s just really worried for you, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. i know you guys had a rough patch but you’ve always had a special place in his heart. he used to tell me stories about your childhood all the time in germany.” the brunette hands you the glass of water on your nightstand as she notices you struggling to clear your throat, “you should tell him now, (y/n).”

you quickly shake your head, “it won’t change anything. he loves you.”

“quite frankly i think he’s just settling for me.” the girl chuckles solemnly, “i wont let you die without having tried. i’ll tell him to come to you now.”

priscilla doesn’t give you a chance to turn her down, leaving a small peck on your forehead and rushing out the room.

minutes later, elvis comes in with a concerned look.

“‘cilla said you needed me. you alright, doll?”

you nod, motioning for him to join you on your bed. he obeys, sliding his shoes off and sitting criss cross applesauce beside you. you can’t help but giggle at the sight, his long limbs looking uncomfortable.

you grab his hand once he’s situated, not able to ignore the wince as he notices your frail hand.

“there’s something i need to tell you.”

“what is it, (y/n)?”

“i’m sure you’ve been rackin’ your brain tryna figure out why i have this disease.” you sigh, acknowledging the small nod he gives you, “a-and i’m sorry i kept it hidden from you for so long. i first found out about it when i turned eighteen. it was little petals here and there, and i would only cough. b-but as time passed, it progressed. it didn’t take long for me to connect the dots. for me to realize that it was happening because i…”

elvis looks at you expectantly, having craved this moment since he held you on that bathroom floor.

“you can tell me, baby. i want to help you anyway i can.” he brushes a lone tear off your cheek.

“it was happening because i fell in love with you.”

you close yours, not strong enough to look in your best friend’s eyes and see nothing but rejection. you’re surprised when you feel his hand caress your cheek.

“open your eyes, darlin’.”

and you do. and your pounds at how close he is to you, how his eyes search your face desperately for signs of a lie. you furrow your brows.

“why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

elvis laughs, a few tears springing to his eyes. “cause it’s always been you.”

“don’t do that.” you beg, “i’ve known you for forever elvis. i watched you go after women day and night.”

“because i thought i couldn’t have you, (y/n). like you said, you’ve known me for forever. i didn’t think you could see me as anything more than family.”

you laugh at that, bewildered at the secrets suddenly coming to light. had you really been so blind?

“‘member when we were kids, livin’ at the home on audubon? mama had set up a lil makeshift tent for us in the backyard and we would spend every weekend in it?”

you nod, “what about it?”

“th-there was one weekend when we decided to stay the night out there, and we were watching the stars. i looked over at you a-and i just knew. i even told mama that morning i was gon’ marry you one day.”

you giggle through your tears, searching his eyes for truth and finding all of the above.

“why’d it take so long, e?” you whimper, the memories of all those lonely nights of pain and puking resurfacing.

“i lost who i was, baby. at first i was just scared, and then all of a sudden my career took off, then mama died, and i…i’m so sorry.”

he rests his forehead against yours, pulling your weak body into him.

you want to kiss him. you want to seal the deal now. you’re ready to spend the rest of your life with him, not wanting to waste another second.

but, “what about priscilla?”

elvis sighs, about to open his mouth to speak but the girl herself cuts him off.

“priscilla will be okay.” she says from the doorway, her own set of tears collecting in her eyes, “i’m just glad you’ll live, (n/n).”

you force yourself to get up, legs shaky as you make your way to the brunette and engulf her in a hug.

“thank you so much.” you sniffle.

“i’m going to go pack.” she smiles grievously, “i’d better get going.”

you nod, making your way back to your bed. elvis gives you a look and you nod, watching as he quickly follows after her.

“‘cilla.” he calls, stopping her on the steps.

“it’s okay, elvis. i knew the moment you started talking about her that it wasn’t meant to be.”

“can i at least have one of my men drive you?” he asks.

priscilla doesn’t see a point in opposing, so she nods. the taller of the two nods as well, before taking her into a gentle hug.

“you’re always welcome here, okay?”

“okay.”

*:･ﾟ✧ ‘67

“hold on, let me get a picture of the newlyweds!” vernon smiles, snapping a quick shot of you and elvis.

despite his career, elvis wasted no time in taking the next steps with you. fifteen years was too long to have missed with you, so he made time for you everyday.

you look over at the man before you, amazed at how much more handsome he’d gotten throughout the years. your heart was pounding happily in your chest, still half expecting this to be a dream.

your wedding was small, held in the meditation garden at graceland.

as your reception came to a close and guests began to leave, you and elvis held one another, swaying to the soft music playing from the record player.

the raven haired man kisses the top of your head, your nose, your cheek, and then your lips.

you hum in content, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“i love you, sugar.” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“i love you t-“ you run down the hall to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you fall to the ground and let out a heave.

elvis, as usual, is on your tail. he rubs your back soothingly, whilst pinching his nose at the smell.

you flush the toilet and brush your teeth, heart fluttering as you look in the mirror and catch elvis eyeing you adoringly.

“mama would be proud.” he smiles, hands snaking around your wakes and resting on your tough stomach.

you can’t help but smile back, your stomach fluttering. only this time, it was the result of your love and not the lack thereof.

#elvispresleyxblack!reader #elvis 2022 #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #reader insert #austin!elvis x black!reader #elvis presley x reader

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yonder-yonder · 4 months

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#yonderland #the elders #chief elder choop #elder choop #elder vex #wise elder vex #elder presley #elder flowers #mathew baynton #mat baynton #ben willbond #the six idiots #jim howick #larry rickard #simon farnaby #laurence rickard #martha howe douglas

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iloveaustinelvisandmannymore · 1 year

Text

The Art of obsession.

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x reader

Summary: When you decided to be a preschool teacher you didn't know you would be teaching the famous Alpha Celebrity Elvis Presley's daughter Lisa Marie Presley. What you didn't know was that it would take a twisted turn when you got to know the 'Alpha' himself more and soon start to think you shouldn't have met him in the first place. (@galaxygirl453 )

Warnings: Manipulation, Gas lighting, Guilt tripping, Forced marriage, Drugging, Delusional/Obsessed Austin!Elvis, Baby trapping, Breeding kink, Forced marking, Creampie, dinner room sex, At school sex, Dirty talk, Housewife kink, Praise, Cock warming, Bullying, Pregnancy, and Pregnancy sex, Gorely murder.

A/n: So the anon who requested this, I hope you like it.

Elvis only could hear the clicking of his dress shoes against the preschool's tile, his thoughts grow wild. While he was at home, practicing with some of the Memphis Mafia in The Jungle Room, he got a call from the principal that Lias Marie had gotten into a fight, his Lisa? He knew it was hard for Lisa Marie to go through the change of having divorce parents but she wouldn't fight another kid, would she? No, she wouldn't. Elvis closed his eyes and took a calming breath in and opened the door.

"Ah! Mr. Presley, there you are." the principal exclaimed mockingly, a sarcastic smile on his wrinkled, chubby face "What happened?" Elvis asked as he sat beside a sniffling Lisa, putting a hand on her tiny back, quietly comforting her "Lisa Marie attacked a little boy, while they were playing. If I were you I'd discipline her better." the old white-haired man practically snarled, Elvis could feel his blood boil, his wolf growling and ready to protect his little pup. Elvis opened his mouth to reply when the door swing open and the scent so luring filled his sense of smell, Rose & honey with a hint of firewood, his ocean orbs snapped to the source.

"Miss. (L/N)!" The principal called out but you ignored him, and simply squatted down in front of Lisa "Are you, okay sweetheart? I heard what happened." you gently cooed to Lisa wiping away her tears, Elvis's heartbeat quickened as he stared at you in awe, his body heat raised and ringing filed his ear, it was getting hard to breathe, everything in his body screamed to be yours, your omega but you wasn't an alpha, you couldn't be, you don't act like one, plus he worked so hard to be an 'Alpha' to lose it. Elvis breathed in and thanked God for his dark shades that helped conceive his emotion. "Miss. (L/n) this is a private meeting." you stood and turned to your boss, with a warm smile that didn't reach your eyes " With all due respect, sir, We both know Bobby Field likes to push around others, it's quite boggling to me that little Lisa Marie is here instead of him" the elder man opened his mouth to speak, but you continued "I get that you might be jealous of Mr. Presley's effect on your new 'wife' but we should not take it on the children Mr. Dryier." The beta man in question looked away in shame "Leave me." the beta waved his hand dismissing him, Lisa, and Miss.(L/n). They wasted no time leaving the stuffy office and into the hallway.

"You alright little Marie?" Miss (L/n) asked bending down and smiling down at his daughter "'m alright." Lisa nodded to you and wiped her puffy face from the tears in her eyes, wearing a cute tiny pout that made her teacher giggle softly, to Elvis it was like the sound of Angels singing and joyful bells ringing, his heartbeat once again raced just a little. You stood up, turning to him with your warm and soft smile, and he swear his heart skipped a beat, his body heat raised hotter than before, suddenly his throat felt dry and he felt like he was hardly breathing, his wolf begging and whimpering for his Alpha "Thank you, for doin' that." Elvis managed to spit out, with a fax confidence smirk even though a raging storm of emotion waved its course within him, "Your welcome. I just hate when adults are petty and mistreat children." you huffed before a smile was back on your face " I'm (Y/N) (L/n), it's a pleasure to meet THE Elvis Presley." you held out your hand that he gladly took, electricity ride up his spine and a groan tried to force it's way out his lips, he suddenly needed to fuck, to breed you, the want became almost unbearable. Elvis gulped before speaking "Pleasure all mine, darlin'" You shake his hand "Well it's time for me and Marie to head to class, recess is over." you said taking his little girl's hand, waved at him, and walked off.

Once you were out of sight, Elvis rushed out of the school and drove to Graceland, with the pain going through his veins, body screaming for release. His back laid against his comfortable mattress, clothes on the floor, and his cock in his hand, pumping fast, pre-cum leaking out and over his hand, his hips jerking into his fist, wishing it was your pussy, He cummed with a whimper and whine.

That was the best orgasm, Elvis had ever experienced, he didn't cum that hard even with Priscilla.

He wanted you, wanted you to be his, by God, you will be, whether you want that or not, he decided you'd be his alpha, no matter the costs. He didn't put his plan into action until a month later, he convinced the principal to have you tutor Lisa at Graceland when you had the time, after all every man had a price. It was a Tuesday when he acted, it was a sunny day and you came exactly the same time you always have, a bright smile and warmth in your eyes as he opened the door "How are you today Mr. Presley?" you asked walking into the beautiful mansion "Doin' just fine." Elvis smiled back and locked the door behind him, actually, he was more than fine, he was excited, he got off his suppressants and stopped wearing his mask scents, and he was going into heat, no alpha couldn't resist an omega in heat, not a sweet little alpha like you. "So where is little Marie?" you questioned looking for her, normal the little girl would come running to greet you, "Goddamn, I forget to tell ya she's at her mother's. I'm sorry darlin'," he said "It's okay I can just go." "You sure? The drive here is at least 2 hours, would ya like a drink?" Elvis asked, gently guiding you to the dining room "I could go for some coke." you smile softly as you sat in a chair at the large dining table "Great, just relax darlin' I'll get yar coke."

Elvis walked into the kitchen, grabbed two coke bottles, and pulled out a set of different quickly, tasteless dissolving drugs, one to enhance your instinct and one to trigger his heat, dropping each drug in your respective drinks, he brought and sat your coke in front of you, before sitting across of you, taking a sip of his coke "So how was school?" Elvis asked leaning back in his seat, "It was okay, the kids were a little—" you trailed off, once a temping scent filled the air, The smell of fresh morning due and lavender sage, your eyes meet Elvis's when a pained whimper left the omega, wait omega? He usually smelled like another alpha, that of Sandalwood and vanilla, he was a beautiful sight, his normal ocean orbs were hard to see, his pupils so dilated he was breathing heavily and sweat begin to make his skin shine. A strong want for, no need to have this omega, ride him until he begs you to stop, your eyes dilated as you stood up and walked to him "Get up." you order and like a good boy he did what he was told "Such good omega" you cooed " your reward." you said before pulling the godly of a man into dominating and passionate kiss, tongues swirling each other and your hands worked on removing his black half unbutton blouse. You both parted Breathing heavily as you remove his blouse and he was working to remove his pants "Such a gorgeous Alpha and gonna take care of me? Huh, darlin'?" he teased, kissing your neck before taking off his pants and lifted himself onto the table, his cock stood tall, your mouth watering and your pussy became slick. You crawled over him and lined his cock with your weeping core and slowly descended upon him, and immediately started to ride him it's been so long since you had sex nevertheless, you couldn't believe your luck a male Omega they're is so rare as Alpha females, you throw your head back, and rolled your hips sharply causing a pretty gasp and moan from the men below you.

His large hands quickly gripped your hips, moans, and whines left his pink lips, his Raven hair stuck to his forehead, and his eyes lidded, desperate, you bounced faster and leaned down to kiss him, not once stopping. His scent filled your nose and lungs like a drug, your kisses strayed from his lips to his neck, and a sudden desire, temptation, want, set your body ablaze, a want to mark, claim this man, his hand held your head to his neck, and his arm throw over your waist, holding you as you bounce. His scent became deliciously overwhelming and you bit down on his neck, staking your claim. Elvis gasped, it worked! He flipped you both, your back on the warm smooth wood as you licked up the blood and the bite with your healing saliva, Elvis pounded into you with a strong punishing rhythm, each thrust from his skilled hips, would push your hips against the table and his cock reached your sweet spot like no, Alpha or beta never had, the sexy growls and huffs leave the rock and roll king brought you closer to your climax "T-That's it! Cum, cum on this cock lil Darlin'! Goddamn, I'm close!" Elvis panted, his already fast thrusting turn frantic, and with a rub against your little nub, you came with a scream, Elvis not far after, with a groan he came, painting your walls and womb white with his seed. it took you a minute to realize what happened, you forcefully claimed him, and your widen eyes snapped to Elvis who was tracing the mark with shock and terror on his face "I'm so sorry I didn't mean to.." you trailed off as guilt set heavily into your chest "I'm ruined.." Elvis whispered, pacing in front of you "What can I do?" you begged "There's nothing you can do." he said, his back turned to you, a sinister smirk on his lips, it really was working, you were going to his. "Please there must be something?" you plead more desperately "Move in here and marry me, people will think it was consensual and you will be able to keep your job. We'll say we kept our relationship secret" Elvis turned to look at you, his eyes holding a strange gleam but you were too much in turmoil to notice "O-Oh Okay." you shakily nodded.

You sighed as you struggle to get out of bed with your 8 months baby bump, your husband sound asleep, it was a rare sight to see, he laid on his stomach, his head on his arm, his lips parted in silent snores, his jet black a mess on his forehead, he was it was gorgeous even if he was asleep, 'no fair' you chuckled and bend down as best as you could, kissed his forehead and walked into the bathroom and got ready for work, it had been a year since that, and it wasn't bad being married to the rock star, sure he had his moments, but he treated you well and you have grown to even love the man. Though you could go without the bursts of anger and possessiveness, it was worse when your ex came around which happened more often than not, he works at the same school you did, and now that you think about Elvis acted more than an alpha than you did sometimes, You yawned as stretched your arms, it was lunch time so the little pups went to the cafeteria. you were about to reach for your lunch when a knock on your classroom door made you sharply inhale, feeling irritation enter your system you took a calm breath then smiled "Come in." you spoke calmly and your husband strutted in with a small smile "How're my girls?" Elvis asked taking off his famous shades and hooking them on his belt "We're doing alright." your smile turned genuine "What are you doing here?" you asked as he leaned against your desk, looking at you with the same loving and devoted look in his eyes when never he looked at you, his smile tugged into a smirk at your question, his orbs was overcome with lust. "I came to check on you and the babies. God..you smell so good."

'Oh' you thought as heat rushed into your body, it had got clearer, the closer you got into your pregnancy, you hungered for sex more, and seeing the predatory lust-driven glint didn't help, you could feel the Alpha purr inside of you, she was pleased, happy to have such a doting omega to take care of her and your needs. Elvis rushed to sweep everything off your desk and helped you upon it, lips locked in a passionate kiss as you slowly leaned down onto the light brown desk, Elvis's fingers hooked onto your underwear and slide them off from under your sundress, your core already slick ready to take your omega he fumbled with unbuckled his belt and unzipping his pants, letting out small whimpers of want. "Shh it's okay omega, your Alpha is here" you purred, eyes blew out as he slowly slid into your pussy despite everything in him wanting to slam into you, his thrusts were slow but precise at first, trying so hard to be gentle, in control but it was slipping as he pounded faster, the poor old desk creaked under the pressure. The classroom echoes your lewd moans and the arousing sound of skin smacking against the skin, and your wet pussy taking a beating.

You whined as Elvis whispered sweet nothing, his pubic bone smacking against your clit, your eyes drifted into the small rectangle window of your classroom door, a set of brown tearful orbs looked back at yours; your ex Joseph a hurt expression plastered on his face but you couldn't find it in you to care while you were being fucked dumb, you grabbed Elvis's face and pulled him into a kiss of swirling tongues, your hips bucking upwards to your husbands hammering, the band in your stomach coming closer to snapping a sharp thrust had you coming, you left out a satisfied sigh as he finished inside. Your eyes looked to the window once again, Joseph was gone and a tiny feeling of guilt wash over you.

Elvis helped you down, helped cleaned up, and organize your desk, he stayed with you for the rest of your break, and the room was filled with laughter and talking. He left as the bell ranged not before leaving with a kiss and that was the last time he really spend time with you.

You were on your 9th month and at home, Elvis and you had agreed you were too close to your due date to work, so you just cooked and cleaned around the house. He was as always at his Studio, hanging out and recording songs with the Memphis Mafia when he got home he would just kiss you on the lips and Lisa Marie on her cheeks before doing his own thing. Today you decided to clean some of the rooms downstairs, you just finished one and were heading to the other when something catch your eye, the door that was normally locked was open just a slit, like a cat that was killed by curiosity, you completely open the door and a set of stairs lead down into the poorly lit room. You grip the metal rails as you take cautious steps can you pause once you smell stench so horrible like something was rotting? You watched as your feet bit the bottom step and when you finally looked up a gasp of pure horror left you. Dried blood splattered everywhere, bits and pieces of Flesh ran across the floors and walls as if an animal ripped apart its prey not caring where the pieces landed, and a ripped leg enters your vision, your eyes traced up, and what you saw would haunt you as bile rises up your throat. A man's body slumps against the back wall, his left arm cut off, and laying beside his thigh, his jaw hangs open, some teeth missing and his other leg gone, what you assume it was the bits of rotting flesh scattered around. A familiar scent entered your nose beneath the rotting corpse, Seabreeze vanilla, and coconut... Joseph. A chill climbed its way up your spine and tears build up in your orbs then another scent enters your nose and your blood runs ice cold.

"Tsk, such a bad alpha." a voice mocked you in the Stillness of this horror, your head snaps up at the top of the stairs, and your 'innocent' husband looks down at you coldly, eyes glowing blue as he leans against the doorframe

Taglist; @reddie-freddie, @father-of-2cats, @yynneessmons, @trinityscarlett173, @mnessasstuff, @galaxygirl453, @xxmadhatter39xx, @pennyroyalcreep, @elvisalltheway101 ,@plasticfantasticl0ver, @kendralavon7, @crash-and-cure, @flwersgarden. @airyx0x0.

"You're afraid? Good, you should be."

(@galaxygirl453)

#elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #elvis 2022 #yandere!elvis x reader #austin elvis imagine #yandere austin butler x reader

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parttimesarah · 2 years

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Tonight’s Six Idiots earworm is courtesy of the Yonderland S3 Chrizmins special…

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bloominspaceship · 2 months

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Been thinking my brain thoughts recently:

I like to imagine that Debbie and Elf accidentally take the portal back from Yonderland and end up in Button House. Due to their inherent magical nature yes they can also see and interact with the ghosts. Debbie and Alison get to bond over the crazy stuff they get up to helping out their respective weirdos (affectionate).

Perhaps the Elders make their way through and interact with their actor counterparts. Vex and the Captain, Ho-Tan and Humphrey, Choop and Thomas, Presley and Pat, Flowers and Julian. I imagine that Flowers is jealous that Julian doesn’t have to wear pants ever again and this annoys the hell out of Julian who wants pants more than anything. I also think that Pat and Ho-Tan would vibe with both of them being trans and get into some really nice discussions about their experiences.

The Yonderland crew eventually figures out the portal situation but pop over once a week to meet up with their new friends.

#I just want to get all my blorbos together and have them make friends #please feel free to talk to me about this :)#bbc ghosts #yonderland #trans pat butcher #six idiots

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three-two-six · 9 months

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120 SINF facts I collected while rereading the series

Behold, my magnum opus.

Josh likes Shrek

Dee has The X-Files theme song as his ringtone

Scatty doesn’t blink. Ever.

Dee gave Mary Shelley the idea for Frankenstein

Scatty can’t enter your room if you don’t invite her in

Scatty is a vegetarian

Perry needed to teach Nicholas English at some point because he forgot it

Ghosts love bathrooms

Josh is 5 cm taller than Sophie

Dee has always been fascinated by the idea of flying

Josh hates snakes, spiders, rats, and scorpions

Scatty hates rain, and it is one of the reasons she left Ireland

Scatty is allergic to feathers and fur

Scatty easily burns in the sun

According to the Codex, apples are poisonous and frogs can turn into princes, both of which Zephaniah confirms are incorrect claims

Zephaniah tried to marry off Scatty to king Nabukodonosor when she was 15

Dee prefers living in bigger cities

Scatty gets sick from using leygates

Josh is incredibly susceptible to seasickness

Nicholas helped create the French sign language

Machiavelli desecrated Nicholas’ and Perenelle’s graves more than three centuries ago and broke their gravestone. The Flamels saw everything

Zephaniah is an Elvis Presley fan

Sophie thinks European chocolate is too bitter

Scatty hates flying

Scatty speaks 6-7 HUNDRED languages

Machiavelli is the type of guy to punch a hole in the wall when he’s angry

Francis speaks ALL languages. ALL of them.

Scatty bites her nails when she’s nervous

Vampyres don’t sweat (this includes Scatty and Aoife)

Francis is terrible at tending to plants

Nicholas pulled off the first blood transfusion in history

Joan is also a vegetarian

Dee has a habit of cutting the phone call before the other person just so that his word can be last. Machiavelli is the most prominent victim of this

Dee doesn’t like flying

The Sphynx is afraid of dark

The pyramids in Egypt were built for the Danu Talis survivors

Josh collects fossilized feces

Joan loves cooking and grows spices on her rooftop

Machiavelli has manicured nails

Dagon often has nightmares about the fall of Danu Talis

Machiavelli knows how to program in five different programming languages

Machiavelli's one of the few world experts on quantum physics

Aerop-Enap tends to sleep off large chunks of human history

Sophie can run really fast

Machiavelli is a vegetarian

Machiavelli has stamina problems

Gilgamesh doesn't have an aura

Perry's aura doesn't have a smell

William cooks when he's nervous

Bastet can tolerate iron better than most Elders

Both Josh and Mars carry swords in their left hand

Machiavelli was the brain behind Napoleon

Francis is the only known person in the SINF universe that was born with the ability to see where leygates are

Scatty was told that she'd die in an exotic place

Billy speaks French

The Flamels worked on the first atomic bomb ever

Gilgamesh once requested to have the world’s first atomic bomb be detonated right above him. The Flamels placed him in a mental institution for 10 years because of it

Sophie doesn't like onions

Francis taught Aoife how to see leygates

Machiavelli thinks about his death unusually often

Niten is the only humani who defeated Scatty in a one-on-one fight

Virginia has a very expensive taste

Virginia lives in a tent

Canonically the reason Machiavelli and Dee keep underestimating Perenelle is that they're misogynists (at least according to Virginia Dare)

Niten collects classic cars

Dee is terrible at tending to plants

Aoife once crashed a vimana and blamed it on Scatty

Odin sacrificed his eye to an Archon in exchange for eldritch knowledge

Abraham has an extra finger on each hand

Krakens are actually only about an inch large. Apparently, sailors overestimated their size a little…

The Morrigan’s tears turn into small feathers

Dee is very susceptible to seasicknes

Nereus is responsible for the Bermuda Triangle dissappearances

Scatty and Aoife were the first of the Next Generation

The Codex has twenty-one pages

Hel imprisoned Joan in her shadowrealm once

Virginia and her flute are bonded

Billy has cold hands

Virginia doesn’t speak Latin, and neither does Billy

Mars has a coal black tongue

Sophie is afraid of spiders

Aten is a history nerd

Isis is older than Osiris

Virginia Dare is a Vegetarian

Virginia didn’t know how to speak until she was ten or eleven

Billy read Machiavelli’s The Prince

Josh looks up to Billy as a legend

Black Hawk dislikes spicy food

It’s possible to summon Elders by praying to them

Virginia was besties with Albert Einstein and her tales about shadowrealms inspired his theory of relativity

Prometheus is the self-proclaimed finest vimana flier in Danu Talis

Will abhors weapons and has never fired a gun in his life

The first humani created by Prometheus all had his facial features

Perenelle hates coffee

Tsagaglalal has no fingerprints

Josh suffers from claustrophobia

Perenelle once knocked out one of Quetzalcoatl’s back molars

Prometheus hates parrots

Prometheus read Niten’s book

Mars disagrees with just about everything in Niten’s book

There are rumors that Leonardo da Vinci was immortal

Hel loves raw pork

The only place in the world Dee hasn’t been to is Denmark

Aoife considers Khutulun, a prominent immortal warrior and niece of Kublai Khan as the “daughter she always wanted”. She is currently breeding horses in Kentucky

Isis and Osiris paint their nails black

Quetzalcoatl is a loner

Quetzalcoatl is responsible for The great Northeast blackout

Billy and Black Hawk are Star Trek fans

Machiavelli is a Star Wars fan

Machiavelli actually liked Napoleon

Tor Ri in which lives Abraham has exactly 248 steps

Marethyu doesn’t breathe or have a heartbeat

Isis and Osiris have dark purple tongues

One of the reasons Elders don’t like congregating in the same place is the risk that their auras could cause a natural disaster

Zephaniah is allergic to cats

Cookie-dough ice cream gives Virginia a rash

Dee’s favorite ice cream flavor is cookie-dough

Billy loves eating crab legs

Scathach and Aoife were trained by Tsagaglalal

Prometheus doesn’t have a pulse

#sinf #sotinf #not gonna lie i mostly made this list for myself #i think of it as a useful reference sheet

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