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#elvis presley x black reader
enchantinglyjade · 2 years
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Milk & Honey Masterlist
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Milk & Honey 
[Austin!Elvis x Black!OC] [Completed] -  The year is 1954. Honey James has recently moved her and her mother to Memphis, Tennessee to secretly pursue her passion for music. However, now living in a bustling city, she is quickly met with the harsh realities of what it means to be mixed race during her time. After constant rejection, she finally manages to get employed as a cleaner at one of Beale Street’s most inventive and poppin’ nightclubs, Club Handy, where she hopes to one day perform. Unfortunately for Honey, her road to fame faces even more sinkholes when she reunites with an old friend turned pop star that shows her a whole new world of difficulties and fears regarding the limelight and what it’s like to find love as a black woman in the deep south.
Warning: This story contains consistent race related conversations/issues, sexual topics, and swearing
Prologue  |  Ch. 1  |  Ch. 2  |  Ch. 3  |  Ch. 4  |  Ch. 5  |  Ch. 6  |  Ch. 7  |  Ch. 8  |  Ch. 9 (Part 1)(Part 2)  |  Ch. 10  |  Ch. 11  |  Ch. 12  |  Ch. 13  |  Ch. 14  |  Ch. 15  |  Ch. 16  |  Ch. 17  |  Ch. 18  |  Ch. 19  |  Ch. 20  |  Ch. 21 (Part 1)(Part 2)  |  Ch. 22  |  Ch. 23  |  Ch. 24  |  Ch. 25  |  Ch. 26  |  Ch. 27
Read on Wattpad
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Moodboard
Cast
Playlist
Random Fax
History of Club Handy
Movie Recs
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Bloody Sacrifices
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Summary: Reader reminisces about how she ended up with Elvis
TW: Cheating, angst, I think that’s it!
A/N: I know I know, where tf has bee been? Under a rock, sorry for leaving so suddenly but that’s just the way things go, I really did try to get back into my groove, with little success. But between school, and getting married and work, I had no time or really the patience to let myself be creative. And then, Eureka! An idea struck and my drafted papers that had been waiting on me finally started to get finished. Again, really sorry for the cliffhangers and such!
-Signed, Bee💕
Mrs. Presley,
What a title. Sometimes, it’s hard to think of life without him. He’s not perfect, no man is, but he’s pretty damn close.
Often time, you find yourself thinking about how you got this far. Married, comfortable, committed, with a beautiful child and very little worries.
The day had been heavy, you hadn’t had the greatest time. The boy you swore your heart to decided that for your third anniversary, he would treat another beauty to the dinner you reserved. Under his name, like some fool.
When the attendants opened the doors, you passed under the threshold, heart swelling. Something made you so certain it would be the day; the day he’d get down on one knee with glassy eyes and a nervous tongue and fumble over those four little words that would change your life forever.
When you asked the hostess about your table, she was quick to inform you that, the table had already been sat. You thought, for a moment, that he had beat you here. This made you excited, thinking he was really taking the initiative. So you thanked the woman and made your way around the restaurant, searching for your dream boat.
It didn’t take you long to spot him, knowing that haircut just about anywhere. Actually, every minute detail, down to how his collar hugged his neck was logged in your brain. Up until this point, you had spent an unhealthy amount of time…studying, perfecting.
So you approached the table, carefully as to not give away how excited you really were. As you got closer, hoping to see him fidgeting with his tie in front of an empty seat, you could feel the butterflies churn in your stomach. As fate would have it, things don’t always go as planned. Not at all actually.
Instead, you found a pretty blonde woman with tears in her eyes adoring an exceptional rock, and that boy with his head held high, with a beaming smile, and chest puffed out. Made you sick.
To this day, you aren’t sure what really drove you to do what you did that night.
Maybe, it was the way you cleaned after him like a mother would a toddler, or the way he expected dinner on the table before he returned at five thirty or all hell broke loose. It might’ve even been having to keep everything spectacularly clean. Down to his damn underwear.
Whatever it was, the camels back was broken and there was no reason for you to hold face now. You kept the tears at bay, gracefully walking over, stopping in front of the lovely couple.
Wouldn’t you know. As soon as the man saw you he did start to fidget with that tie. That same damned tie you bought for his birthday. You’d never seen him wear it but you’d guessed that day was as good a time as any.
And her. When you really looked at her, you picked her apart in less than 20 seconds. Bottle blonde, not natural, lipstick that wasn’t her color, makeup that didn’t compliment her, the dress she wore did nothing for her figure. All the things he swore not to like, sat right in front of you. You couldn’t believe it.
With a painfully fake smile you looked between the two. You had let out a quick breath in preparation for what you were about to say. It was quick, and sweet, no malice detected.
“Engaged?”
That was it. That was all you had asked.
Withought missing a beat she nodded her head
“After two years, I wasn’t even expecting this! At a place this nice, on our anniversary too. He really is so thoughtful. And the ring, ugh—”
She continued to ramble, but all you could hear was “Two years” and “our anniversary”
She had no clue about you. None.
And, for two of the three years, this man had the wool pulled over your eyes. Fresh out of high school, You had been walking blindly behind him and never noticed.
At least that’s what you told yourself in the moment.
But, you did know. You just wanted to deny your ignorance in that moment. You couldn’t deny the late nights, foreign perfume, and lack of affection though. Not even if you wanted to.
Till the very end though, you kept face.
“How lovely, I hope… I—, wish you both the very best.”
The woman gave a quick false smile and said “thank you, but we are trying to celebrate.”
You nodded your head and returned the same smile. You timber spinning on your feet and gearing up to make a beeline for the door. You really couldn’t help yourself though. You threw your head over your shoulder,
“Just remember, he doesn’t like it when you leave the stains in his underwear. You’ll never get them out though, just burn them and buy a new pair!”
And with that, you were through the door. Though it was a small power move, the tears still flooded your vision. It hurt bad. There was a slight downpour, mimicking the feelings you harbored. With no car you had no choice but to keep walking.
The back of your feet were rubbed raw, skin broken and bleeding. The hairstyle you had chosen for that night and no doubt frizzy beyond repair through slight adjustments.
In your emotional haze, the grate on the sidewalk went unnoticed, the back of your heel payed the price. You stopped and removed the shoe, assessing the damage. This small inconvenience on any other day would’ve made you roll your eyes and let out a curse or two. This wasn’t a normal day.
You had broken character. An almost primal shriek left your chest. Something akin to that of a hurt animal. It wasn’t pretty, or poised. It was raw and unfiltered. The scream felt good, exhilarating.
Even with that nice release of emotion, you wanted to go home. You removed both shoes and chucked them as far as you could, sacrificing their beauty, and continuing on your journey back to your very warm and dry house.
A few minutes passed, you were about five minutes away when those headlights creeped up behind you.
You looked back, part of you hoping it was the fool you’d banked on. What he did was unforgivable, yes, but you had nothing else. As the car started to progress a little was past you, you tossed that hope through the window.
“Scuse’ me honey. Why’d ya throw your heels at me?”
You stopped, glaring over at the unidentified stranger,
A simple, “I didn’t,” was all he got out of you.
The car stopped all together. The sound of the door opening put you on edge. A man stopping at this time of night, to return a broken pair of heels? Yea, right. When he rounded his car with your shoes in hand and a smug look on his pretty…face. He looked you up and down and you did the same, wondering who-
Holy shit. Was all you could think. You had thrown your heels, your very broken heels at Elvis Presley.
“Now honey, I’m no shoe salesman, but I’d bet my bottom dollar, that these here fit those pretty little puppies just right. Save for your ankles of course—”
Your shoulders dropped and you held your hand out.
“Please, just give em’ here. Night’s been bad enough, Mr. Presley. I don’t need to be humiliated any further.”
The brunet let out a light chuckle,
“Wanna tell me your name?”
You let out a sigh,
“Y/n.”
“Call me Elvis. And I can see that it’s been a little rough. What happened, honey, date stood ya up?”
You shook your head and decided to humor him,
“No, I found my beau with a different beauty,”
His smile faltered and he parted his lips, no doubt to issue an apology. You continued before he got the chance,
“Which he proposed to…”
His mouth closed, face showing pity. The last part of your confessional came out barley above a whisper,
“On our anniversary.”
Elvis was too stunned to speak, he looked around as if to see if anyone else had heard what you just said. He was in utter disbelief, that someone could wilt a beautiful flower such as yourself.
“I’m sorry honey, I didn’t meant to poke fun at you, just wanted a chance to ask you on a date.”
You could’ve sworn your ears were malfunctioning.
“I’m flattered, but no less than twenty minutes ago, I thought I was getting married. I don’t think it’s a good time—”
Elvis was quick to shake his head,
“No , no I meant to say it wasn’t appropriate. But at least let me drive you home.”
With nothing but tears to lose, you nodded your head and shuffled to the passenger side door, which he kindly opened for you.
The two-minute ride i was silent but not uncomfortable, the radio was at a low volume and the only time you spoke was to give directions.
When you arrived at your small home, you thanked Elvis for the ride. Before you could part, he handed you a slip with his number on it,
“Call when you’re ready for that date, honey.”
Hesitantly, you took the slip and made your way inside.
It was stuffed in a drawer somewhere as you fell into your stupor. For two weeks, you wallowed in self-pity. Fourteen days before you grew a pair. You rummaged though all your kitchen drawers looking for that slip.
It might have been foolish to assume Elvis would still be thinking about you after two weeks, but you still gave it a try.
Your hands trembled as you spun the rotary dial, carefully choosing every number that was on the paper. Receiver against your ear, chewing on your lip.
It rang three times before you’d slammed the phone back on its hook. It was a fruitless idea, there was just no way—
A ring stopped your negative thoughts, it rang twice before you picked it back up. Saying hello and waiting for a response.
“Y/n?” There was a pause. You didn’t know he’d given you his personal number.
“Uh, hello? Honey?…ya there?”
You shook of the surprise,
“Y—yes, uh, yes m’here”
Elvis wouldn’t be Elvis without pointing out the obvious
“So, you’re finally callin’ bout that date?”
You could practically hear the smile in his voice, and with a roll of your eyes, you said yes.
That date turned into ten years of love and a little bit of stress. He got you the prettiest ring, proposed at the prettiest dinner, and gave you the gift of your son.
For once, tears felt good on your face. When you look for reasons to stay with this perfectly imperfect man, you remember,
Those bloody sacrifices.
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Taglist: @powerofelvis @rjmartin11 @re3kin
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itstylersblog · 2 years
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My favorite Austin pictures <3
Most of these scream bf/husband material
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He’s so fucking gorgeous 🫶🏽
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isthlsfate · 10 months
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*ೃ༄ The Girl Who Spit Flowers
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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.
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mamasturn · 5 months
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dirty dancing pt. 9
pairing austin!elvis x black!fem!oc (cynthia). warning: 18+ steam, suggestive themes. content: cynthia and elvis get married. tags: @neeville @dulcewrites @crash-and-cure @cvpidspearl @blackwriter48 @wonderprince @venus2eros @adoreyouusugar @sunshinetoday1 @cosmic-parker @kaitaesupremacy @librarydame @louderfortheback @thetaoofzoe
note: well…long time, no see
“Marry me, baby.”
Cynthia’s hands released the utensils they held. A loud clatter ricocheted off the decorated walls of the dining room. The curls upon her head curtained her eyes, but they were blown wide in shock. Slowly, she tuned to the left. Her eyes found his baby blues, which were filled with hope as he descended onto one knee.
In his hand was a black velvet box. He pulled the cap back to reveal the most piece of jewelry she’d ever seen. And, it was authentically her. She’d expressed to him that as she’d gotten older, she found an indescribable beauty in the color green. Cynthia was well-aware that he was attentive; she just never knew he was so attentive that he’d propose to her with an emerald ring.
It was beautiful, goodness, was it beautiful. The emerald diamond was at least three karats, and it was the star of the show. Its setting was gold with vines entagling the band. He pulled it out of the box and brought it closer to her.
“I don’t want to spend my life with anyone else but you, Cyn. You came in my life and changed my desires. I’d be a fool to let you slip through my fingertips. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine, as long as you’ll have me.”
A tearful laugh fell from Cythia’s lips. “Where will we go?” The four words held so much weight, and he knew why. No one in the south would approve of the union of a white man and a Black woman--it was unheard of. But, Elvis knew that already, and he was determined to get what he wanted. There was one state that would grant their wishes--California. California had legalized interracial marriage in 1948, and if she said yes, he already had the first flight there arranged. He just needed a yes.
He stood to his feet and placed the box on the table. Cynthia looked up at him, her brown eyes teary and filled with a million unreadable emotions. “California. They’ll accept us out there. They don’t believe in the silliness them people in the south believe. We can get married, baby. All you gotta do is say yes, and we’ll go. It’ll be me an’ you forever. Baby…”
Cynthia stared at the ring and it stared back at her. What would she tell her parents? They were already suspicious of her relationship with Elvis and feared for her safety daily. Their Black daughter was in a committed relationship with the most famous singer in the world. That was dangerous enough. How much further was she willing to go?
She wanted to be his wife, she truly did. But she was scared. What would happen when people found out? Would they try to hurt them? A part of her challenged her concerns because her relationship was nobody else’s concern, and who was society to tell them who to love? Yes, they were of different races, but it was no reason to repel a love that was so strong and profound. They weren’t hurting anyone.
Her lips twisted as she nodded. “Let’s get married.”
“You look beautiful, darlin’.” Cynthia’s eyes dropped toward her dress. It was a simple, white slip dress that’d been hiding in her closet. It was form fitting and stopped just below her knees. Accompanied by silver pointed heels, she was the most stunning bride. She rushed her makeup in the courtroom bathroom and took the rollers out of her hair, which produced the most voluminous curls. The new layered haircut fit her wonderfully.
“Thank you. You look handsome as always.” He wore a simple black suit, nothing too crazy. He was flamboyant any other day, but chose to have the more simplistically beautiful wedding of his dreams.
“We are gathered here today…”
Their eyes met and giddy smiles spread across their faces. A dream had become a reality. All the worries and fears were washed away when she heard, “you may now kiss the bride.” Cynthia welcomed the passionate kiss and scattered applause from the judge an the officiant. It wasn’t the most ideal wedding, but it was perfect for them, and that’s what mattered. “Mr. and Mrs. Presley, congratulations.”
“Mrs. Presley…I love the sound of that.” They’d found a hotel to stay in for the evening before flying back to Graceland the following morning. The hotel service was luxurious, as they wanted the best for Elvis Presley and his wife. They stayed in the presidential suite on the top floor, which was decked out to the nine.
Large windows that oversaw the city, flowers and plants that reminded her of Graceland, chandeliers above them, and a King sized bed with an angel-white comforter, which she laid on comfortably.
Cynthia turned her head to meet his eyes and smiled gently. She loved it too. Cynthia Irene Presley. Music to her ears. Elvis stood at the end of the bed admiring her beauty. She was freshly showered and dressed in her white nightgown with lace trimming. Her makeup had been removed and her hair was tied with a satin scarf. God, she looked so beautiful to him.
Her brown eyes were blown wide with love and adoration as they followed his movements toward her. She sat up on her elbows and spread her legs just slightly to make room for his body.
Elvis crawled over her, his breath fanning her lips gently. Cynthia shuddered. His pink lips captured hers and she welcomed the feeling.
She loved intimate moments with Elvis, and she could only imagine how much better their interactions would get since they were married. It would mean they’d finally go all the way.
Cynthia and Elvis had dabbled in other forms of sexual intimacy, but had never crossed the line of penetration, as Cynthia requested. She was grateful for her husband’s patience with her, and was more than ready to give herself to him fully.
“Elvis,” she moaned softly as his lips traveled down her body. What a sight to see, it was. Him working his way down her quivering body with darkening eyes and swollen lips. Her, jerking at every touch he gave her and calling him name so gently.
“Yeah, baby…” His large hands cupped her hips as his thumbs traced the waistband of her panties. Slowly, he slid them down her legs. Cynthia kicked them to the side.
“Come here.” She pulled him upwards and kissed him again. Her lips moved toward his ear, which she nibbled on softly. Elvis moaned softly. “Make love to me, Mr. Presley.”
He burned with desire. Elvis hummed softly and instructed her to lay back. His hand slid up her abdomen, leaving goosebumps in the wake. He reached behind her back, looking to unclip her bra. She lifted up to help remove the article of clothing.
Soft pants and breaths of anticipation passed through her lips as Elvis’ warm lips traveled down the valley or her chest, around her clothed hips, and between her thighs, where he teasingly and strategically kissed around the place she wanted him the most.
He lifted his eyes, finding Cynthia with closed eyes and a heaving chest. Her lip was caught between her teeth. She looked down at him when she felt him stop.
She tensed suddenly. Elvis rubbed her thighs gently as a way of reassurance. He wouldn’t push her, though. If she needed time to prepare, he’d give her all the time in the world.
“Relax, baby, relax…”
Cynthia nodded slowly. She didn’t want it to be weird, but she was indeed nervous. But, it was Elvis, she reminded herself. She had no reason to be. All of her worries went away when she felt his lips on her. A gasp fell from her lips, “Elvis…”
“You okay?”
Cynthia nodded tiredly against his chest. “I’m okay.” She’d fantasized what her first time would be like, and Elvis exceeded her expectations. She felt so loved, adored, and honored. He paid close attention to her body and made sure her pleasure was the priority, and for that, she couldn’t have been more thankful.
“Mrs. Presley…” Elvis said for what seemed to be the millionth time. It didn’t bother her, though; she enjoyed hearing it. “I love you, darlin’.”
“I love you more, Mr. Presley.”
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woniipii · 6 months
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Your Polaroid collection dating Elvis !
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powerofelvis · 1 year
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No Longer The Housewife
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Pairing: Elvis Presley x f!reader, Austin!Elvis x f!reader
Word Count: 6000
Summary: You arrived in Vegas to sleep with another man after enduring an unhappy marriage. You didn’t realize that the man that you would encounter would bring out your long missed youth. 
Warning(s): Angst, Infidelity, Fluff, SMUT (in this part, there’s spitting, choking, degradation, edging, and overstimulation), Different Types of Kinks (and I mean that wholeheartedly), The Vegas Era
A/N: I’m sorry for the stupid summary, I’m not good at summarizing my stories yet. However, it is finally here. This fic will be three parts, so it is a short series because I love to torture myself. I also did not add any adjectives, so the reader could be any ethnicity, so to my fellow sistas, have fun! This fic is based off of this song, so I recommend you listen to it before or while you are reading it ;)
masterlist. 
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Your husband was gone once again. You and your husband had been married for five years, yet you’ve only spent three of those years with him. You had tried to keep yourself busy—the burden of feeling lonely weighing in your mind. You didn’t want to tell your husband that you were lonely, but it was beginning to get harder to stay quiet as your husband was off doing god knows what. You knew that your husband had a wandering eye and at first, you didn’t let it bother you. You figured that as time went on, his wandering eye would shrink and he would only see you. You couldn’t be more wrong. Your husband didn’t only have wandering eyes, but a wandering cock as well. He thought that you wouldn’t have known—but you knew. The phone calls during the night, the lipstick stains on his collar, the perfume smells on his clothes that weren’t yours. You weren’t sure when you had begun to feel lonely, but you were lonely and very bitter. How could he do this to you after you had given him ten years of your life and five of those being married. You were young, while he was nearing his forties. Your family and friends warned you that marrying someone who was ten years your senior could come with consequences, but you loved him. How could you have not?
Your husband wooed you with flowers, gifts, and vacations but you didn’t want anything but his love. However, love apparently wasn’t enough for him. So it was at this moment that you decided that you would find someone who would love you. Someone who wouldn’t spend their money on you just to keep you in the shadows while they indulge in forbidden pleasures. You knew that there was a man who would treat you better than your husband—what you didn’t know was the man who would treat you better than your husband was Elvis Presley. 
Your friend wanted you to come along with her to see Elvis perform at the new International Hotel. You did listen to his music, but you were only a casual listener. The idea of meeting another man at this show was the only reason that you decided to go, along with the fact that you didn’t know if you could stomach another night in, seeing your husband come home with evidence of him sleeping with another woman. As you packed your bags for this small getaway, you decided that you wouldn’t leave Vegas without sleeping with another man. In the back of your mind, you were telling yourself that it was a bad idea—that stepping out on your marriage just to get back at your cheating husband meant that you were no better than him. However, you didn’t care what your conscience was saying, because hell hath no fury than a woman scorned. 
You had been so good to your husband, moving away from your family when he had gotten the career of his dreams, leaving your dreams behind in the process. Your husband didn’t like the idea of you working, so you bite your tongue and stay at home being a homemaker. You were not meant to be a homemaker. You had dreams and ambitions, yet you blindly followed your husband into the life that you were miserable in. After this weekend, you were going to change from the miserable wife, to the woman that you had always dreamed of being. So as you packed your bags for the weekend trip in Vegas, you slid your wedding band off of your finger and left it on the nightstand, knowing that your husband wouldn’t be home anyway to see. You grabbed your bag, leaving your house and your homemaker status behind. 
***
You arrived in Vegas before your friend, deciding to sightsee while you waited for her flight to arrive. You had a few hours to spare, deciding to meet with her at the hotel. Vegas was more beautiful than you could have imagined. The more than you looked around the city, the more your hatred for your husband grew. You would have thought that you weren’t even married because you threw the thought out of reconciling with him once you returned home. You were walking through one of the casinos that Vegas had, the Stardust. It was very vibrant, so you made a note to return tomorrow so that you could gamble a bit. Your time here was going to be spent having fun and enjoying being free from your husband, so that’s what you were going to do. You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t notice that there were a pair of blue eyes watching you. “Are you lost, darlin’?” A southern accent brought you out of your thoughts. 
You turned, eyes widening and jaw dropping as you saw Elvis Presley in all of his glory. He was better looking than he was on the television, his olive skin glistening from the warmness of the casino—cigar in hand. He tilted his head, tongue in cheek as he waited for your reply. You coughed, placing your hands behind your back as you rocked on your heels. “Oh uh—yes, I’m lost actually. I’m looking for my way out of here, but I was intrigued by the vibrant feeling of this place.” You stumbled over your words, mentally hating yourself that you were rambling in front of him. Elvis chuckled, taking in your body language as he stepped closer to you. You gasped, stepping back a bit in fear that you would embarrass yourself more than you already had. 
“Don’t be shy, mama. I’m not gon’ bite, unless you’re into that.” He chuckled, extending his hand. “Elvis Presley. My pleasure to meet such a beauty.” He smirked, blues burning into your eyes as he stared down at you as if you were his next prey. Your hand shakingly raised as you shook his hand, not once looking away from his gaze. “Y/N, pleased to meet you.” Your face dropped as you watched him pull your hand up to his lips, pressing a longing kiss to the back of it. He was laying it on thick, you thought. As you stood there indulging in his presence, you suddenly remembered that you were supposed to meet with your friend ten minutes ago. You pulled your hand out of his, feeling the empty feeling that you had never felt before. “My apologies, Mr. Presley. I have to meet with my friend, so I must take my leave. It was a pleasure to meet the person that has the whole world at his feet.” You shot him a smile, before running off before another word could have been spoken. 
You met up with your friend a few minutes later, choosing not to tell her about your meeting with Elvis. “Where have you been, girl? I’ve been standing here like a fool waiting on you.” She chuckled, pulling you into a hug. Your friend, Lindsay hasn’t seen you since your wedding day. She was also the President of the “I hate your husband” club. When she had first met your husband, she made it known that she didn’t like him and that she didn’t even want you to marry him. She conceded after she saw how much you loved him, but it didn’t stop her from letting it be known that you could do much better than him. She would always tell you, “What kind of man buys you things and asks you to be his wife, just to step out?” She also made it known that if she had ever seen your husband out with one of his whores, she would castrate him and throw his dick into the Mississippi River. You used to think that she was being unreasonable, but as time went on, you started to think that maybe she could see right through him. 
The thought of your best friend being right about your husband had broken your heart right down the middle. You didn’t want to tell her about the cheating, but one night you didn’t have anyone to talk to. You broke down on the phone to her, telling her about the lipstick stains that you found on your husband’s shirts and the purple marks that you could see on his body. You were thinking that she would have said “I told you so,” but yet she sat on the phone with you, telling you that he would soon be sorry for hurting you the way that he has. The show at the International wouldn’t happen until later on that night, so you would have to deal with your best friend dressing you up so that you could have the attention of everyone. You didn’t really want all of the attention, but you wanted to at least have the attention of the man who would be yours for the weekend. 
***
As time started to wind down, your best friend had convinced you to dress into a two-piece pink getty-up, the sheer top had lace that barely covered your stomach and a matching skirt that stopped at your thighs. She had curled your hair, letting it sit on your shoulders, while doing your make-up to perfection. You stood in the mirror, not knowing who this new you was, not being able to dress this way before. Your husband would have had a fit seeing you dress this way, but you could care less about what he had thought. He had spent five years trying to mold you into his ideal woman, but would sleep around with women who weren’t his wife. You were ready to stop some hearts tonight and you didn’t care how you had to do it. As you and your friend walked into the showroom, you could feel multiple eyes on you. You had to admit that you were uncomfortable at first, but your best friend told you to relax and remember that it was time for payback. Your husband wouldn’t know what hit him once he realized that things would soon change once you got home. 
A waitress came to the table that you and your friend shared, taking your drink orders before rushing off to retrieve them. You were sitting so close to the stage that you could reach out and touch him, but you decided to stay firmly into your seat. The lights dimmed and the music started to pick up as the crowd went wild. At that time, the waitress came back with your drink before scurrying away from your table. Lindsay clapped her hands, clearly excited that she was finally going to be able to see Elvis perform. You on the other hand were excited that you would see him again. He walked out on stage in his white jumpsuit, oozing confidence and sexuality. Your thighs rubbed together at the sight of the jumpsuit being slightly opened at the top—revealing his chest hair. He looked gorgeous and you couldn’t take your eyes away from him. His eyes scanned the crowd, smiling as he blew his breath out of his mouth. Eventually, his eyes landed on you and his smile turned into a smirk as he looked you over. You melted into your chair, taking a gulp from your drink as your eyes stayed locked on his. You were so entranced by his presence that you didn’t hear Lindsay screaming that Elvis was staring at you. Not that you didn’t know that already. 
His eyes left yours as he began to go into his nostalgic tunes, jerking his hips in multiple directions. At the sight of his hips thrusting, you could imagine his hips thrusting into you. You snapped out of that thought, instantly remembering that there was no way that Elvis Presley would ever think about sleeping with you. You didn’t know that you would be wrong once again. As he started to sing “Love Me Tender”, his eyes found yours once again and it felt as if you two were the only ones in the room. Your body heats up at him walking over to the table that you were sitting at, pulling you up into his arms before pressing a kiss to your lips. You gasped, opening your mouth, which allowed for him to maneuver his tongue past your lips. You could have fainted in his arms, but your lips moved along with his, gripping at his white jumpsuit to keep your body from crumbling to the ground. 
As soon as he appeared in front of you, he was gone in the crowd as he continued seeking out his fans. Lindsay grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back into your seat as she began to ask you about what had just happened. You couldn’t form a single word, only looking over at your friend with wide eyes. Your fingers landed on your lips as you smirked at the memory of Elvis Presley’s lips on yours. He was going to be the man who you slept with, he had to be. Shortly after that awakening experience, Elvis appeared back on stage where he ended the show with ‘Can’t help falling in love’. His eyes lingered at your table as if he was performing that song just for you. At that moment, a man appeared behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. You turned, seeing a blond haired man who was wearing sunglasses. He leaned into your ear, whispering “Elvis wants to see you tonight in his suite.” 
***
Lindsay freaked out, hearing that Elvis wanted to see you privately. You had thought about not meeting with him, the thought of sleeping around on your husband still lingering in your mind. You didn’t want to ruin your marriage, you kept telling yourself. However, the pictures that were seared in your mind of your husband coming home with lipstick stains and hickies on his body as he looked over you with pure disgust on his face pushed you forward. “You deserve this, Y/N. Go show your husband what he missed out on.” She giggled, leaving the elevator that you both were on, heading off to your shared hotel suite. Elvis had the penthouse suite, which meant you had a while to go before you got there. The blonde-haired man who you learned was Jerry Schilling, his bodyguard, had told you that he was expecting you. He got off on his floor shortly after, giving you a smile as the elevator doors shut. You were suddenly nervous, being in the elevator alone.
The elevator moved up until it finally dinged at the penthouse floor. Your heart pounded into your ears and sweat pooled in your hands, but you were confident that you were called up to his room because of the two instances that you had met with him earlier on that day. The voices fighting in the back of your head seemingly stopped as you exited the elevator, walking up towards the door of the room. You couldn’t believe your luck, seeing Elvis Presley take interest in you. Your husband couldn’t even do that and he was your husband. Your husband, you thought. That no-good piece of trash was the reason why you were here in Vegas, about to meet with Elvis Presley. Why were you thinking about him and his feelings so much? He was the cause of all of this, yet you couldn’t take your mind off of him. You stood outside of the room for a second, pondering whether or not you should knock. Eventually, you do, rocking on your heels again as you wait for the door to open. Elvis appeared as the door opened, smiling as he stood in front of you—wearing a satin purple dressing robe with his initials on them. You gasped, seeing that his chest was revealed, glistening in the light. “Well, come on in, darlin’”. He stepped aside, allowing you to come in. 
You entered the room, in awe at how big it was. It was much bigger than the normal room that you and Lindsay were sharing for the weekend. You walked over to the huge glass windows that showed the beautiful Vegas lights that burned brightly at night. It was truly a beautiful sight, which made you once again appreciate that your friend talked you into coming to Vegas with her. This was the life that you wanted, not being a homemaker for your husband. Not being cooped up at home, enduring his cheating ways and the glares that he sent your way because of it. “Beautiful..” you forced yourself to say before turning back to look at Elvis. He had sat down at the piano that was in the corner of the room, watching you with a smile. You didn’t know what it was about you that had him enamored, but you wouldn’t complain about it. You walked over to him slowly, taking in the sight of him manspread at the piano. He was gorgeous, more gorgeous than any man you have ever laid eyes upon. You sat down next to him, playing a little tune on the piano. Elvis curled his eyebrow, looking over at you. 
“You know how to play, mama?” He smirked at you, his icy blue eyes staring into your soul once again. You could have melted on the spot, but you sat there, taking in a deep breath before opening your mouth. “Yeah, I can play a little. My mama used to be my piano teacher when I was younger, but that was before I had to stop playing for personal reasons.” You shrugged your shoulders, playing the same tune that you played a while ago. Your mother was the best piano player in your hometown and she had wanted you to be the same, but you met your husband and things went south fast. You gave up playing because he wanted you to leave him for his new job. If you could go back, you would have told him that he could shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. “Well, if you want baby, I can teach you.” His southern drawl drew you out of your thoughts for the third time today. 
You wanted nothing more than to learn the piano from Elvis. “I would love nothing more than to learn under you.” You giggled, turning to face him. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, he was like an enigma. From his blue eyes that bore into your soul like it was a window to his southern charm, Elvis had your attention from the first meeting. You wanted him and you were determined to have him before the night was over. Your husband would learn that you would not be at his beck and call since he was sleeping around. You were going to become someone else’s girl—and that someone was Elvis Presley. “Are you okay, darlin’?” Elvis took you by the hand, standing up from the piano. He walked you over to his couch, sitting you down. He grabbed two glasses, filling them with whiskey. “Ya’ like whiskey?” He chuckled, handing you one of the glasses. You didn’t like whiskey, but you were feeling free at the moment so you nodded your head as you took a small sip out of the glass. 
Elvis spent the next hour asking you questions about yourself. You answered them as truthfully as you could, smiling as he told you about himself. He was definitely different from the superstar that was all over the radio and you felt yourself falling under his spell. He could sense that you had something on your mind, but you told him that you were just tired. “Do you want me just to let you crash here tonight?” He asked you, eyes seeming hopeful that you would agree. You chuckled, nodding as you pulled your feet up on the couch. “I had planned on staying here, if you didn’t mind?” You crawled over to him, rubbing your hand down his chest, fingertips grazing over his chest hair. Lindsay was right—you needed to be loved and having your body touched correctly. “My friend brought me to Vegas to find someone to touch my body correctly.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you snuggled up to him. “I can do that, mama.” He pulled you up in his arms, walking you back over to the piano.
You smirked, knowing you were going to get exactly what you wanted. Elvis placed you on top of his piano, pulling your skirt off of your body. You shivered, feeling the wet spot on your panties come into contact with the cool air. You didn’t realize that you were wet from staring at him manspread at the piano earlier. Elvis smirked, spreading your legs so he could have a look at your wet panties. You were shy at that moment, wanting to hide your arousal from him, but his magnetic pull on you forced your legs to stay open. His blue eyes not once leaving your face, he leaned in, pressing his lips on your thighs. Your body jerked slightly, the feeling of his kisses becoming unbearable on your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat as he moved his mouth closer to your core, his eyes now moving from your face to in between your legs. Goosebumps formed on your skin as you waited for his next move. 
Elvis finally gave you what you were waiting for—licking up your wet underwear, collecting the little arousal that spilled from your cunt. You shivered, throwing your head back as you moaned out in pleasure. “Don’t run off, mama. I’m gonna take my time with you tonight.” He teased, pulling you down the piano—closer to his face. It seemed as if time had slowed down, but you were fully aware of what you were getting yourself into. Elvis tugged your underwear off of your body, pocketing them in his robe. “You’re not to cum until I tell you that you can, ya hear me?” His now dark blue eyes locked on yours, sending you overboard into pleasure. You nodded, tugging your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Use your big words, baby.” He wanted you to talk back to him and who were you not to oblige? 
“Yes..” You whimpered out, hoping that this answer would suffice. He tsked, shaking his head at your short answer. “Yes, what?” He tilted his head as his fingers rubbed circles on your thighs. He couldn’t have wanted you to call him daddy, right? You watched him in confusion, but decided to test the waters anyway. “Yes, daddy.” You moaned out, thrusting your hips upward against the air, wanting some type of friction. He smirked, leaning back down before pressing a heated kiss to your thighs again. “That’s my good girl.” He licked a stripe from your thigh to your core, slowly pulling your lower lips with his teeth. You hissed, digging your heels into the top of his piano as you watched him. He chuckled, spitting on your cunt before lapping up your juices that were not mixed with his saliva. Elvis watched you from under his long eyelashes as you squirmed from his touch. His arms locked around your legs, holding you still as he lapped at your cunt. He moaned, sending vibrations up your body, and the coil in your stomach began to form. “Daddy, please...I don’t wanna cum yet.” You groaned out, trying to run away from him. “Oh, you’re not, baby.” 
It seemed as if he was eating your cunt for hours because every time you were close to cumming, he would pull away, smacking your pussy. He was edging you. The bastard was teasing you and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. At this point, you were crying at the feeling of not being able to cum. You felt as if you were going to explode, but your body wouldn’t allow you to. He chuckled, jerking his cock in his hand as he watched you try to grind your legs together to gain some friction. “Did Daddy say you could do that? Are you tryin’ to make him upset, naughty girl?” He walked over to you, climbing on the piano as he wrapped his hand around your throat. “Since you ain’t listening like the dumb slut that you are, I’m going to tease you more.” He pulled his hand from around your throat, sliding off of the piano. “Lay right there, baby. I’ll be right back.” He chuckled, walking over to his closet. Seeing him pull out a vibrating dildo, your eyebrow raised. Your husband had never introduced toys with you as your sex was very bland, but with Elvis, it seemed as if he wanted to try different things out. You loved it. You loved the rush of feeling as if your sex life with him would be spontaneous as his lifestyle. 
Elvis walked back over to you, rubbing the vibrating toy along your clit. You gasped loudly, throwing your head back on the piano. Your orgasm was starting to build back up, but you were afraid that he was going to edge you again so you tried your hardest to hold back. It was useless because the way the toy was hitting your clit, sent jolts up your body. He smirked, sliding two of his ring-covered fingers into you, pumping into you at a fast pace. You screamed, shaking along the piano, shaking your head wildly. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy, please! I can’t take it anymore! Please!” You begged as he moved the vibrator along your clit in a circular motion—his fingers still fucking inside of you. Your back arched off of the piano, toes digging in. “I guess I can allow my slut to cum, huh?” He tilted his head, shaking his fingers into your pussy wildly, hitting your spot again and again. “Please, Daddy, I’ll listen... I swear!” You begged, holding on tightly as your orgasm rose higher and higher. “Cum for Daddy, slut.” He moved his fingers faster, and the vibrator moved in long strokes along your clit. 
This was it, you were finally able to chase after your orgasm, and you did. However, it felt as if you were going to pee, which caught you off guard. “Daddy, I have to pee. Please stop.” You moaned out, trying to pull your hips away from his fingers and the vibrating toy that he was currently torturing you with. He laughed, still continuing with his motions. “That’s okay, baby; I will catch it all.” He leaned down, replacing the vibrator with his tongue. You squealed as warm liquid shot out of your pussy, covering Elvis. He moaned, lapping up all of it—not letting one drop hit the piano. He pulled away, sliding his fingers out of you before licking your juices from his fingers. You had never seen something so hot before in your life. This was photo-worthy, but you decided to keep it etched into your memory. He picked up the vibrator, placing it against your lips. “Clean it.” He demanded. You didn’t have to be asked twice as you wrapped your lips around the toy, tasting yourself. 
***
This alone turned both you and Elvis on. Elvis pulled the toy from your lips, throwing it over his shoulders as he climbed up on the piano. He needed to be inside you at this very moment. He pulled his robe open, grabbed his hardened cock, rubbing the tip along your entrance. “Ya’ ready for me, baby?” He groaned in your ear as he aligned with your entrance. You groaned, pushing the robe down off of his shoulders just a bit, leaving the material hanging off of his shoulders. He looked sexy—bedroom eyes watching you with amusement. “I’m ready, Daddy, fuck me.” You begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. Elvis pushed inside of you slowly, his head laying on his chest as he groaned at how you were squeezing him. You mewled, tugging him close to your body—your breasts pressed against his chest as he thrust into you. 
Elvis had been with plenty of women before; some were even famous in their own right. However, he felt differently about you. You were all he thought about that day, leading into when he saw you again at the dinner show. He could remember how you smelled—the shampoo that you used seared into his brain. He thought about how your skin felt under his touch and how you tasted. He had bet that you tasted sweet like peaches, and he was definitely right. He wouldn’t have thought that he would have you writhing underneath him as he thrusted mindlessly into you. He wanted you as many times as he could have you before he would have to let you go, but he didn’t know if he could let you go. Elvis always got what he wanted and he didn’t care what he had to do to get it. At this moment, he wanted you and he would go through any and every one to get you. What he didn’t know however was that someone else already had you. 
Elvis thrusted slowly into you, his hand wrapped around your throat softly. He could have the sight in front him painted—you moaning, head tilted back in ecstasy. You had tears forming in your eyes, gripping the piano as if you would fall off if you didn’t. His robe hung off his shoulders as his thrusts picked up speed, his hand gripping a little tighter along your throat. Your moans caught under his hand, eyes crossing as he hit the right spot inside of you. The tears fell down your cheeks as you begged for him to go faster, harder, anything. Elvis obliged, pounding his hips into you harder, his feet hitting keys on the piano that sounded beautiful along with your moans. His black locks flopped against his forehead, sweat dripping on your body as he continued ravishing your sweet cunt. His hand moved from your throat, gripping your cheeks. Your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to pull. 
“Open your mouth wider, lil’ mama. Let Daddy see your tonsils.” He groaned, watching as you opened your mouth wider for him. You weren’t sure what he would do with your mouth, but you were too fucked out to care. Elvis spit into your mouth, hips continuing to thrust into you at a rapid pace at this point, demanding you to swallow what he gave you. You closed your mouth, swallowing his saliva down quickly as he returned to choking you. “I can’t-..” You whimpered out as your coil finally snapped inside of you, sending you headfirst into the longest and hardest orgasm you've ever had. You gripped your hands on his biceps, digging your nails into his skin as he fucked you through your second orgasm of the night. However, Elvis was not done with you. His hand let go of your throat once again, moving down to your bundle of nerves, rubbing your clit wildly. You gasped at the overstimulated feeling, blood pumping in your ears. You could feel your spirit leave your body at the overwhelming pleasure that he was making you feel. Your husband definitely didn’t hold a candle to Elvis—both physically and sexually. 
The warm feeling in your stomach returned as he continued pounding into you, playing with your cunt. “I can’t take it, Daddy. I can’t take it.” You truly didn’t know if you could handle another orgasm. “You can and you will, slut.” He grunted out, his other hand slapping across your face. Your eyes widened as your lips parted once again. “Again..” You moaned out, wrapping your legs tighter around him. Part of you was appalled that you wanted to be slapped again, but the other half wanted him to be rough with you. You were free, flying on a high that you didn’t need drugs for. He smacked you across the face again, groaning as his hips started to lose the pace he had set. You knew he wouldn’t last much longer, so you pulled him down to his—licking and biting at his earlobe. He shivered, continuing to push into you. “W-where d-do you want it baby? Inside you or?” He spoke quickly, feeling his orgasm build faster and faster. “Inside me, I don’t care.” You moaned, your own orgasm crashing over you—spurts of your own juices squirting out again against his pelvis. He nodded, grinding his hips into you as he soon came after you. His moans were so hot, causing a shiver to go up your body. You had never had such mind-blowing sex like this before, especially with someone who was not your husband. 
That night, Elvis took you again and again all over his room. You would have lied if you said you didn’t enjoy being used and fucked by him because you begged and pleaded for him. He itched the scratch that you never knew you had, awakening the youth that was long ago locked away when you married your husband. After hours of love-making, Elvis had fallen asleep in his bed, holding you close to him as snores left his lips. You laid there, staring at the ceiling, overwhelmed with feelings that you couldn’t sort out. You had to get out of your marriage, you had to tell Elvis that you were married, and you had to tell your husband that you refused to continue being trapped in a loveless marriage while he was out fucking another women. However, you weren’t any better. You were laying in a bed with Elvis fuckin’ Presley after spending the entire night getting your brains fucked out by him. You had to do something and it had to be soon. You sat up in the bed, sliding out of his embrace. Your heart broke as each step you took out of the bed, into your clothes, and out of his room took its toll on you. 
As you returned to your room that you shared with Lindsay, tears had already begun to fall out of your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to return back to Elvis to make love once more, but you were married. You couldn’t continue doing this to your husband, even if he was already doing it to you. You slid out of your clothes, walking into the bathroom to shower. While you were in the shower, you had thoughts of how you were gonna tell your husband that you didn’t want to be married anymore. Would he let you go? Probably not. He was very much possessive of you, but you didn’t see a problem with it until now. How could you have been so blind that your relationship with him was toxic? How would you tell Elvis that you were a married woman, but you wanted to be with him? You had decided while he had made love to you countless times that you wanted out of your husband’s world and wanted in Elvis’s world. 
After your shower, you slid in your bed, staring at the ceiling. You knew what you had to do, but you didn’t know how you would do it. As you finally drifted off to sleep, you were content of finally becoming free. You were content that everything would be alright. You would soon leave your husband and if Elvis still wanted you, you would be his. You wanted to live your own life, a life that you felt comfortable in. A life where you would live the remaining of your life free. However, what you didn’t know was that there was a price to pay for this freedom. Because as you slept soundly, dreaming of the life you could have with Elvis. Your husband was on the other side of the country, packing his bags to find where his wife had gone. 
taglist: @headfullofpresley @lindszeppelin @aconflagrationofmyown @venus-haze @ash-omalley @loving-elvis @babylovepresley @cchl @rainydayz101 @oh-my-front-door @woundmetender @oh-kurva @troubleinapinksuit @arianatheangel-girl @sournatromanoff @ep-supremacy @lovininapinkcadillac @foreverdolly
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Reminder
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Summary: Right before you leave to go meet up with Elvis friends to go to a Halloween festival you say something to piss him off. His punishment for you is next level.
Warnings: Mean!Elvis, OVERSTIMULATION (seriously), Pentrative Sex, Face Fucking, Cum holding? (you’ll see), Fuck Machine, Oral (female and male recieving), Jeslousy (reader gets jealous), Snowballing, Passing out, and Squriting.
You're in the bathroom and you smile at the end result as you spend about 2 hours getting ready and you were proud of your accomplishment. “Baby you're almost done in there?” your boyfriend said in his southern drawl. Smiling, you turn and look at him showing off your outfit that was matching with his.
Grabbing your hand he lifts it up. “Give me a twirl lil mama” with a giggle you do a light spin as he whistles in a low tone. “You lookin fine tonight baby, we gotta hurry up and go though everybody is already at Jerry’s house” he explained rushing you out of the bathroom.
Right as you guys were about to make it out of your shared room the phone starts to ring off the hook. Elvis goes to pick it up and you're immediately annoyed by the voice you can hear on the other side of the phone. It was Jenny the girl that was obviously trying to fuck your boyfriend.
She was a friend of the guys which you guess apparently makes her a friend of Elvis. Rolling your eyes you sit on the bed not even wanting to go anymore. “Yeah i’m going to be there Jenny, me and my girl are going to be there.” After she heard Elvis say that she sounded a little annoyed and you got fed up.
“Hang up the phone Elvis” you say to him with an angry look in your eye. If looks could kill he would be 6 feet under by now. “Baby calm down-” he was cut off by the chihuahua that was on the other line. “Elvis, is that your dog in the background? Tell her I said hello” widening your eyes you reach up and snatch the phone right out of his hands.
“Jenny don’t act all tough over the phone as soon as I see you I’m going to fuck you up, and stop calling my mans phone before I- “ you didn’t get to finished your sentence because Elvis hang up and slammed the phone back on the wall looking as angrey as a bull.
“Why do you always give them something to talk about?” he said really calmly “What are you talking about?” you ask tilting your head with a look of confusion. Shaking his head he continues “If I know I love you and you know I love you why do you let the other bullshit bother you?”
You huff of course he wouldn't understand he almost never does. Suddenly he got close to your face “Answer me women” you didn’t know what to say you knew he would never give her the time of day but the fact that she kept trying really irked your soul.
“I don’t know Elvis I just don’t like the fact that she still tries” Elvis let out a deep sigh “ I would never even let her get the chance and the fact that you don’t trust me enough to know that really pisses me off, We were going to have a good time but now that you runied it your not going any going any fucking where.”
Scoffing you look at him “You wouldn’t be saying all this if you were in my shoes, why don’t I just give Daren from the convenience store a call and see if he would like to come to the festival since your going to occupied already maybe this time i’ll actually have a trustworthy man with me.”
Having enough of you he stomps to the closet pulling out a ribbon and he walks over to where you were sitting on the bed and makes you lay in the middle of it. “Take off all of your clothes, this is going to be the only time I tell you.” You listen to him and go to sit down on the bed after you finished with your nipples getting hard at the coldness in the room.
“Since you want to act like you have an untrustworthy man i’m going to show you an untrustworthy man looks like and when I come back were going to show her who I really come back home to at night and who i’ll be making MY wife, but until then you need to learn that we move as one unit, Okay mama” he rambled as he tied your wrist to the top of the bed and moved onto your ankles at the end of the bed.
Watching him you're completely restricted and you can’t move around that much. Elvis goes back into the closet moving deeper into the room and your eyes widen when you notice what he’s pushing out. “Remember that Dildo I had shaped for you when I went on tour, well I got a machine along with it to keep you company and what better time to use it to show you that you'll never going to be able to get rid of me even when i'm not here”
Your legs were all the way open and the Dildo that was attached to the machine and it was able to reach your pussy all the way from the end of your bed. Elvis puts his face in between your legs and you can feel his breath on your center. He sticks his whole tongue inside of you with no warning. Arching your back you can already feel him start to drool on your pussy making it more wet. He flicks his tongue faster on your clit wasting no time trying to get you to your climax.
You buckle your hips as much as you can and you finally come undone as you feel Elvis moan into your pussy. After he’s done riding out your orgasm he positions the dildo inside of you without starting the machine. Unbuckling his pants he moves toward the top of the bed where your head is and takes his cock out and he positions your head where he wants it to be.
He quickly shoves his whole cock into your mouth not caring about your gag reflex and your eyes immediately start to water, ruining your eyeliner and mascara. “I’m going to cum in your mouth and I don’t want you to swallow not even one drop I want you to taste me on your tongue while your getting fucked to obliviation.” Moaning around his length you feel his cock twitch and a flood of cum rushes into your mouth also causing you to choke on it but you keep it in when you remind yourself of Elvis words.
He bends over giving you a kiss to your closed mouth before he uses his thumbs to wipe off the tears on your face. “I love you mama.” he said as he buckled his pants and began walking out the bedroom making sure to put the machine in its highest setting.
You cry out as you hear the door close downstairs knowing that he already left, you were already so sensitive. You didn’t know how you were going to take this much pleasure. All you could hear was your wetness pussy getting strength out by the fast pace machine as you cream on for the first time of the night shaking as you do.
Elvis cum is still warm in your mouth as a drop spills over your lips due to you not trying to moan while the dildo plummets inside of you over and over again. You're on your third orgasm of the night when you feel your walls clench down on the toy and shake as your release hits you like a bus.
Soon after two more orgasms your vision starts to get blurry and your body starts to feel hot as your cum starts to travel past your pussy lips. After one more toe curling orgasm you pass out still feeling the mold of your boyfriend's cock stab your cervix.
TWO HOURS LATER
Elvis finally makes his way home and he immediately goes to check up on you in your shared bedroom. When he makes it inside he is completely turned on by the sight of your completely fucked out eyes and your legs wide open.
Walking over to you he cups his hands around your face as he starts to scatter kisses everywhere. You wake up with a whine making sure not to spill his cum as he finally attaches his lips to yours mixing his cum and both of your saliva together. When you break apart a thick string of a mix of saliva and cum connects you guys as the machine is still going and you swallow the remaining cum in your mouth before you cry out trying to free yourself of the ribbon that was around your wrist and legs.
Elvis reaches over and turns off the machine looking at your swollen abused pussy he starts to coo at you. “Aw you did such a good job for me mama can you please give me one more? This time it will be with my cock and then we can go to sleep and we can sleep in all day tomorrow. How does that sound mama?”
You nod your head not wanting to talk, your throat was already feeling scratchy. “Thank you so much baby, I’m going to make you feel so good” He moves to untie your wrist and your ankles and after he takes off all of his clothes. He also goes to dial a number on the phone and lays it down on the dresser right next to the bed.
Getting in between your legs for the second time tonight he wastes no time with entering his cock inside of you, hissing at the contact he moves a little slower with a smile on his face. “Your so fucking beautiful how could you ever think I could go for another, your the only one for me, okay baby?” Elvis preached with nothing but love and admiration in his voice.
“I don’t know baby I’m sorry for saying all those things earlier, I know that we belong to each other and I’m happy that you respect that” you said with your voice quivering because the feeling of euphoria was hitting 10 times harder now that Elvis was inside of you.
“It my job as a man to take you feel like your the only one and you are the only one for me, fuck anyone else that tries to get in between us” he picked up he pace now all you could hear is your skin slapping together all through the room.
“Oh Elvis I’m going to cum baby” Elvis groans as he feels himself about it fall over the edge as well “I am too where do you want me baby?” “Inside please make me a mother Elvis!” You squealed as you felt the tension snap in your lower abdomen as you released all over yourself, Elvis and the bed that you share together.
Soon after your boyfriend comes inside you and makes sure to keep his cum inside as you guys take deep breaths after the release you guys just experienced. He lays next to you and starts to brush your hair out of your face humming a new song he’s working on.
Suddenly you hear an annoying high pitch voice disturb you guys out of your bliss. “Fuck you Elvis!” Jenny yelled before the line went to bed. You and Elvis face each other for a couple of seconds for the two of you burst out in laughter.
After a couple of minutes you guys settle down. “I love you lil mama” Elvis said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead “I love you Elvis” you said as you snuggled deep into his chest going into a peaceful slumber with the love of your life by your side.
Please let me know how you guys like this one ☺️
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suraemoon · 7 months
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"When you're good as gold, 'cause when you know, you know"
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hearts4court · 8 months
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Navigation!
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Courtney |17| |17+ blog| minors DNI with 90% of my content! Proud Slytherin 🐍Marauders Fan, and Horror fan. Current works!
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Dating Remus Lupin headcanons. (Nsfw) (Sfw) Remus Lupin X Fem!reader
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cinnamoncunt · 2 years
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the way he has my black ass blushing omg?!
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enchantinglyjade · 1 year
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Milk & Honey - Ch. 23
Austin!Elvis x Black!OC
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Summary: Elvis is trying to come to terms with Honey dating again. Honey isn't too fond of it herself
Warning: NSFW 18+ mild sexual activity, dirty talk, swearing, flirting
Song: Do You Love Me - The Contours
Playlist
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-Elvis POV-
God damn, this woman is driving me crazy. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I see her everywhere, in everything. I can’t go one minute without thinkin of her and that blonde curly hair. Being near her felt like a little glimpse of heaven, even when she’s mad at me. I’d do sinful things to get a taste of that sweetness, especially if it meant escaping this hell for even a second.
I shake her from my thoughts. Gotta knock this shit off, I got a show comin up soon. Can’t be caught distracted now
I stand in front of the mirror while brushing my teeth. As I bend down to spit, I feel a small arm snake around my waist. Marcella reaches her head around my arm to peek at me through the mirror. “My mom’s wondering when we’re gonna be bringing some grandbabies over to visit her.” She whispers, as she begins to untie my robe.
I rinse the toothbrush off, throwing it over onto a nearby towel. “‘Cella, I just got Charles, can we slow down a sec.” I reply calmly, but feel irritated just looking at her.
She huffs, pulling away to put her hands on her hips. “We’ve been married for how long now, Elvis? You have barely made love to me since the day you put this ring on my finger.” She holds up her hand as if I’d need help realizing which ring she was talkin bout.
I clench my jaw, storming out the bathroom. “I told you, I just ain’t really that type.”
She scoffs, following close behind me. “‘Ain’t that type’? Ain’t that something. It’s cause of her! I’m not as stupid as you think I am.” I sit down on the edge of the bed, rubbing my temple with my hand. Everytime this woman speaks I get a headache. “My father already hasn’t taken the news lightly, so I suggest you finally move on from her to not further upset him.” She crosses her arms, stomping towards the door. I raise my head, just as she opens it. She looks back at me over her shoulder, taking a deep exhale before she speaks. “Look, I’m willing to forget about all this, but I did see a little blue shirt in the window of the boutique downstairs, if you wanna make it up to me. It’s the least you can do after everything.” And with that, she slams the door shut.
Lord, how’d I get myself into this mess.
Later in the day, I get the boys over to talk production, Charles in my bedroom watching TV since I apparently had to watch him for Honey’s…evening talk with an old friend. Things go fine, until I leave the room to grab a cola. On my way back from the fridge, I overhear their conversation.
“Damn she sure is a fine woman though.”
“She’s E.P.’s baby mama if you wanna get in between that.”
“You bet I don’t.”
“The hell you two talkin bout?” The boys go quiet, turning around to look at me, watching as I sit down at the desk in the living room scattered with papers and letters. I scoff at their hesitant faces. “She’s more than just a baby mama.”
“Really? And what would that be?”
I gulp down some of my drink, setting it down frustratedly with a loud clunk. “A good friend.”
“You hear that? She’s a ‘good friend’.”
“Oh, I ain’t got no doubts.”
The boys go back and forth, laughing and clearly having no fear of testing my patience today. “Alright, now all’a’ya put a sock in it, and keep her outta your thoughts ‘fore I have to leave a handprint across your faces.” I glare at each of them in the room, but they only snicker at my attempt to warn them.
Jerry dares to speak up. “Elvis, I’ve known you for years and you never mentioned a- what do you call her? Bumble?” He asks over the edge of his glasses.
“Cause I don’t want to. Now, I need you to go to those shops downstairs and buy a blue shirt in the window.” I say, steering the conversation away from her.
He raises an eyebrow. “Just…a blue shirt? What shirt?”
I rest my elbows on the desk, rubbing my temples roughly. “I don’t know, man. Any fuckin blue shirt you see down there.”
He thinks for a moment, before reluctantly standing from his chair and sliding out the door, following the orders I gave him. Now that that conversation is over, let’s move on to some real business-
“Billy, you said you knew her before right? You got any beans to spill on the whole situation?” Red questions.
I clench my jaw, throwing my head over the back of my chair in annoyance.
“Yeah, he was crazy bout her back in the day. Them two was always sneakin ‘round the cops. He’d even go dancing with her.” He snorts out a laugh until he makes eye contact with me, then his face drops. “Sorry, cous’.”
“See, how come we never heard this?” Joe asks.
“Ain’t easy to talk about.” I respond quietly. “Now can we move on from this topic?”
There’s a knock on the door.
George stands since he’s the closest to the entrance. “Yeah, come on guys. Gotta keep quiet before one of Elvis’ girls shows up.” He taunts with a laugh.
My knuckles turn white, gripping the bottle in my hand. “Girl. I have one.” I demand.
He only chuckles, opening the door to reveal Thomas standing behind it. “Hey, E.P.!” He greets, casually stepping in. He’d been stopping by for the past few days. Ran into him while I was out bringing Marcella shopping down the strip. We had already gotten pretty familiar with each other again before Honey reunited with him. Now I don’t even wanna look at him, just Michael all over again. “I was just wondering if you knew where Honey’s suite was. Supposed to be takin her out, you know.”
The boys amusedly turn to watch my reaction to this. I ain’t gonna give them the satisfaction of blowin up, or actin jealous, or anything childish like that. I have Marcella, and they know that. Ain’t nothin going on between Honey and I. If she wants to date, then-
I guess-
Damnit, it ain’t important right now!
“You know Honey too?” Billy buds in.
Please, Billy. Now ain’t the damn time.
But Thomas smiles at his question. “Yeah! We grew up together, Me, E.P., Honey, and Michael. We all lived in the same town, doin our best to impress her. E.P. and Michael was always fightin over her every time they got the chance. We all had a little crush on her, but I wasn’t bout to get in between them two. Whoo! They was bad.” He chuckles, pointing over towards me. “Glad that’s over.”
I scoff with a smile. “Easy to like the only girl in the whole town.” I add, downplaying incredibly.
Just then, the door knob spins, metal creaking as it opens. Little blonde curls peak through. Honey apologetically smiles as she opens the door further to reveal the rest of her. She has on a red dress, fitting tightly over her body, just like the ones I used to buy for her. Her hair is up, some curls falling over her exposed collarbone and breasts.
The boys laugh at my joke from before, but everyone’s smile disappears upon seeing her. My God, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You sure that was the only reason?” My head snaps back over to Thomas, who’s biting his lip  looking at the exact areas of her body I was. 
“What they got growin in Tupelo?” Sonny whispers with his jaw on the floor.
I could slap each one of ‘em silly right about now.
Her heels clank on the marble floors as she walks over to Thomas. “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” She says sweetly.
Thomas stands pathetically quickly. “No, not at all. I was just looking for you actually.”
I can’t watch this no more.
-Honey’s POV-
“So, what are you doin out here with E.P. then? You his stage manager or somethin?”
I chuckle, following beside Thomas as we walk down the strip. “No, no. Just visiting. I used to be a singer too actually.”
His eyes widen. “Really?” He says with a big smile. “I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”
I force out a nervous laugh. “Oh, no. I don’t do that no more. Haven’t in a long time.”
He smacks his lips. “Tsk, don’t be that way. Once a singer, always a singer. You know what,” He stops in his place to face me. “I saw the perfect place the other day for you to sing for me.”
I cross my arms with a grin, anxiously excited by his offer. “Oh, I’m singin for you now?” I raise a brow.
He smirks at me. “Yeah, I wanna see what you got.” He tilts his head to the side. “Come on. Let’s go.” He offers his arm out to me and I gladly take it, following in the direction of whatever place he has on his mind.
We arrive at a club filled with song, drink clanking, and chattering. It’s very casual in its looks, yet somehow still refined and skilled, like its inhabitants are laid back with their excellence. I recognize tunes like these, the clothes they wear, the gently calloused fingers. These are actual musicians. 
A few customers turn to watch us enter, eyeing my dress as we walk by. I cross my arms around my body, feeling inexperienced and overdressed, as though I was trying to excel in looks where I likely lacked in talent. Great, another place to feel like I don’t belong.
I follow Thomas to two seats in front of the bar, where he orders drinks for us.
“So, you come by Michael at all?” He asks as the bartender sets our drinks down in front of us.
I raise my eyebrows, taking a sip. “Oh lord, he’s crazy.”
He laughs, slapping a hand down on his thigh and stirring his drink in the other. “Well, sounds like you have a crazy story to tell. What happened?” He stares at me with a soft, flirtatious squint that almost leaves me flustered, but not quite.
“Tried to make me a real singer and take me to Chicago with him cuse he thought I’d make him big money, but when I told him I didn’t wanna leave Memphis he got real mad. He started throwin a hissy fit and everythin. Real jealous type.” I scoff, taking another sip. 
Thomas wide eyes me. “Damn.” Is all he manages to say, causing both of us to laugh. Saying it out loud for the first time made me realize just how ridiculous that time of my life really was. Kinda miss it though, in a weird way.
I sigh, turning in my chair towards him. “Yeah, turns out he had a lot more on his mind when we were kids than he let on. Elvis was there to see it all, even fought him too. Shit, you shoulda seen his face when Michael and I-”
I pause.
In the corner of my view lies the door. In from the door walks a man in an obnoxiously bright suit with his infamous crew of men behind him.
Speak of the fucking devil.
I should have known this asshole would pull anything and everything to stop this date from happening, yet here I am, shocked and unprepared.
He yanks off his sunglasses, grazing the room, landing on me with an annoyingly knowing grin. I glare deeply into his face, hoping it would be enough to steer him away and back out the door, but he just keeps treading forward.
He opens his arms, reaching out to place them on the backs of our stools. “Hey! What’re you doin here? Heard this joint was busy, but had I known you two would be here, I’d gone another night.”
Oh, I’m sure he would have. I’d hiss at him if I could!
Thomas smiles, reaching for a handshake. “Hey. No problem E.P. Think you’ll like some of the cats in here anyway.”
No problem? This is a big problem!
I have no doubt that Elvis will stop at nothing to embarrass me in front of Thomas. It’s all he’d do as kids and he’s only become more of a menace with age.
“Hey.” I whisper through my teeth to him. “Who’s watching-”
“Marcella.” He answers, already knowing.
Oh, I don’t like that woman being near my baby so much. For all I know, she could be filling his head with lies.
A loud howl of a voice echoes through the microphone causing all of us to turn to the stage.
“Woo! That man ain’t singin, he’s sangin!” Thomas exclaims.
Elvis matches in enthusiasm. “You think that’s impressive, you should see Beale after the sun go down. Woowee, now that’s somethin. He got himself a nice 4 piece up there though.” The bartender hands him over a drink and he sips from it with a concentrated smile.
Jerry and the others sit at a table behind us, watchin the stage as Elvis works his torturous ways.
The song comes to a close. As the band exits backstage, a man walks on, dressed nicely in a suit, smiling wide for the crowd. ‘Alright, I’m back, remindin’ you once again that it is amatuer night, so any one of you is welcome to take the stage, whether you’re Aretha Frankin or just wish you were. Nah, I’m just playin. But if you got vocals, come up and show the locals! Ha ha!”
Elvis lets out a devious hum and I instantly know what I’m about to have to do.
“Honey ever tell you she used to sing?”
Lord.
My heart immediately starts beating faster. I better start picking out a song now while I have the time.
“Yeah, she did. That’s why we came here. Said she’d sing for me.” Thomas looks me up and down in a very flirtatious way.
“Did she now?” Elvis says deeply, looking down at me in my spot. I could have laughed at how upset this whole situation clearly made him, but I’d have to hold it in for now, I have to think quick. He forces a smile on his face. “Well, I think that settles it. Show em what you got, Bumble.” 
I shake my head. “Oh no, I don’t think so.” Oh, I will, but I need to buy more time to think of a perfect song.
Elvis comes close, resting his arm on the bar right in front of my stool. “Go on stage.” He softly commands. “Wanna hear you sing again.” My chest fills with butterflies. Song. What song! I shake my head anxiously, as he grins, waving his arms in the air to get the attention of the man on stage. “Hey! She’ll sing! Right here!” He yells, so the entire audience can turn to look at me.
The man on stage shouts out a ‘woo!’ as he calls me up. I’m gonna be sick. I slide off my chair, but before I can walk towards the front, Elvis grabs my arm. “You’ll be great. You always are.” He whispers. A small chill runs against the sensitive part of my arm. I look down seeing the small silver band wrapped around his finger, cooling my skin. When I look up, I’m met with my two childhood friends, both of which smirking quite lustfully at me. They both think I’m beautiful, and they both know I’m talented. I know a lot more about music than either of them remembered. This fills me with a sense of confidence, all previous thoughts vanishing from my mind. I know a song.
Elvis takes back his hand, leaning against the bar and nodding me towards the stage.
I’ll show him what he walked away from.
The crowd cheers as I walk towards the stage with my head high. I fling my hair over my shoulder, which is contrasting so nicely against the red dress I chose out today. In this moment, I feel more beautiful than I ever did in my 20’s. Maybe it was maturity, maybe it’s because I know Elvis is looking, whatever it is, it has me feeling ready to take on the world. 
The man hands me the mic, but I lower it to speak to the band. I ask them if they knew the song I had in mind. They smile upon hearing the name, causing me to mirror their smile. “Alright, lay me down somethin.” I say into the mic now, facing the crowd. Elvis tips his head to the side in amusement, not expecting me to react this way.
The guitarist begins the first notes of the song. I speak the beginning lyrics, just like the real singer does.
‘You broke my heart
'Cause I couldn't dance
You didn't even want me around’
For a moment, my heart bubbles up with fear seeing how everyone’s eyes are on me, but I easily push it away, knowing that I had what it takes to wow them in the way I always dreamed of doing since I was a little girl.
‘And now I'm back
To let you know
I can really shake 'em down’
There was no time to lose now.
I conjure up all those years of practicing, shouting out the next part just like Michael, the church, and Elvis have tried teaching me to do for years, only just now finally succeeding in doing it right and singing with that power I always strived for.
‘Do you love me?
Now do you love me?
Now that I can dance.’
I parade across the stage doing little dances for the audience members in the front row to enjoy, getting a slight high for their positive reactions, which only helps me continue on.
‘Now tell me baby
Do you like it like this
Tell me
Tell me!
Watch me now, hey!’
I grab the mic stand, twirling my hips in big circles in time with the music, watching carefully over my shoulder at my men of interest. I smile when I see I’ve succeeded in entrancing both of them, and then some. There are a lot more things I can get away with doing now than I could in the 50’s and it’s clearly leaving them speechless.
‘(Work, work)
Ah, shake it up, shake it
(Work, work)
Ah, shake 'em, shake 'em down’
I giggle seductively into the microphone, taking a look in the back to make eye contact with Elvis. His face is in a war, deciding whether to smile in amazement or stare me down for dancing in such a provocative way in front of everyone, which only makes my smile widen further.
I'm working hard baby
Well, you're driving me crazy
And don't you get lazy’
I don’t look back at them for the remaining portion of the song, but when I do, I’m met with the most thrilled pair of eyes. The crowd cheers while I catch my breath, but I can barely hear them over the sound of my beating heart that longed to hear every thought that raced through the mind of one man in particular.
Under the shadows of the club, I catch Thomas mouth an ‘ooo’ with an impressed smile, watching as I walk to them.
“God damn, lil mama. Where the hell’d’you learn all’at?” Elvis asks quietly when I sit back down in front of them.
I shrug. “Just kinda felt it in the moment, I guess.” I giggle, but it fades when I make eye contact with him. The way he was looking at me, Lord, I could pounce on him.
“That was real good, Bumble.” He admits earnestly.
I mutter a quiet thank you, as he sits down at the table next to Billy and Jerry.
“Man, that kid of yours gonna be one hell of a musical genius with a mama like her.” Billy says, patting him on the shoulder.
Thomas eyes Billy with scrunched brows. Suddenly, I feel the need to hold my breath, as if that would stop anything bad from happening. He slowly turns back towards me, still in heavy thought. “Charles…is your baby?” Now he looks at me.
My body stills. “I-uh, I figured you seen the news, was alright with everything.” I’m surprised Elvis didn’t tell him the second he got the chance, he knows information like that could ruin my chances. In fact, why didn’t he tell him?
“You and E.P. had a baby together?” He asks again, just to clarify.
My heart drops. “Yeah. But we aren’t together anymore. Is that…okay…?” It obviously was not okay with him, but I didn’t know what else to say.
His eyes widen. He looks around the club, shaking his head, as if desperately searching for a way out. “Yeah, no- I- Listen, Honey. You’re beautiful and all, but I ain’t lookin to get involved with kids right now. And-”
“No! It’s fine. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I’m not mad.”
He makes a reluctant smile at me, but awkwardly stepping off his chair and leaving me there to walk out the front door.
I turn towards the bar, shielding myself away from the rest of the club. A lone tear rolls down my face, but I wipe it away angrily.
God, this is embarrassing. Why am I even crying? I didn’t even really like him, he was just to get back at Elvis. But-...is this how everyone will react? Am I too old to be dating? Will having a kid ruin my chances of finding love again? Will being involved with Elvis make everyone run in fear? Maybe I’m just destined to be alone now. I had one great love affair and that’s all I’ll ever get. I guess most people never even get to experience the love Elvis and I used to have, so I should just be grateful I had it at all.
“You okay, Bumble? Why’d he run off like that?” Elvis asks, taking Thomas’ old chair.
I let out a long, defeated breath. “What do you want?”
“I wanna know that you’re okay.”
I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you happy? Don’t gotta worry about me dating, and you were right, no man even dares to look in my direction, just like you wanted.”
I huff, about to put my old drink to my mouth, but Elvis pulls it from my lips. “Don’t go down that road. Please. I can’t lose you too.” I look into his soft eyes, letting him take the drink from my hand and set it back down on the bar. “But yes, I am very happy.” I scoff out a light chuckle. I hate that he can always make me smile, even when I’m mad at him. He reaches out for my hand. “Come on, let’s get to the car. I’ll bring you back to the hotel.”
I follow him out back, slouching into one of the cars with him.
He sighs. “I really don’t like the idea of raising my boy alongside another man, you know.” He spreads his legs out across the edge of the seat, not scandalously, but welcoming nonetheless.
I cross my arms. I’m not gonna give into my thoughts. “Is that the only reason I’m not allowed to date?”
He scoffs, shaking his head at me and looking out the window. “Ain’t never said you weren’t allowed.” His hand rests on his thigh, patting down on it. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was taunting me over, unless that was my own heat talking.
I lean up in my seat, eyes glossing over him. Thomas or not, it’s supposed to be me teasing him. He’s supposed to be under my spell tonight, not the other way around. I reach behind me to push up the car’s partition, which catches his immediate attention. “So tell me right now, Elvis.” I gently push myself towards him, shimmying up my dress enough that I’m able to straddle his legs. He instinctively grabs my hips to ground me against him as we drive over a bump, which only results in me bouncing in his lap in a tortuous way for the both of us. “Tell me, ‘Honey, I’m perfectly okay seein you with another man.’” I whisper into his ear.
And here I thought all the childish bullshit games stopped after Michael. Guess we still have a little zest left in us.
He lets out a guttural groan, throwing his head back against the seat. “Bumble, don’t start this with me.”
I ghost my lips over his neck, purposely making an effort not to directly touch him. My warm breath glides down his skin, causing his hairs to raise. His grip on me tightens, making my body shiver, wanting so desperately to give in.
Those feelings are never gonna go away no matter how hard I try, there was little to no point in running any longer. I’m sick of pretending like I’m some saint, I wanna know how he really feels.
“Is she as good as me, baby?” It's the first time I’ve reciprocated a nickname for him. He tilts his head back up, looking into my eyes with his dangerously hooded ones. I giggle at his expression, knowing I was teetering over the edge of our respectable boundary. “Do you think about me when you’re with her?” I wouldn’t have had the guts to ask something like this, but I know he does. I know he still thinks of me, because I can’t stop thinking about him. “Do you think about how I used to feel?”
He twitches beneath me, pulling me closer to him. “Shit,” He mutters under his breath. Yeah, he still thinks about me. It takes so much effort not to touch him that I feel on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. “You’re playin a dangerous game and you know it, baby.” He digs his fingers into my thighs, pushing me down into him, but nothing more.
I’m older now, wiser, bolder. If I would have had this same confidence 10 years ago. I would have left him weak to his knees. However, I’ve quickly made a new discovery being with him for just these few weeks. While I’ve grown more assertive, it seems so has he. We have both changed and grown over the past years, but my strength to resist him has not. Instead of surprising him and making him weak with the new me like I thought I’d be able to do, I’m matched with an even more powerful force of lust and seduction than I ever dreamed of him having. As if he wasn’t enough as is, he just keeps getting better.
The car drives over another bump, making my breasts bounce against his chest, while the rest of my body adds pressure to his lap. I crumble into him, allowing myself only to wrap my arms around his neck. He grinds his teeth, closing his eyes to concentrate. 
I shouldn’t give in so easily, but he’s all I have left from my old life, all I have left of my youth. Every time I see him is a reminder of home, a reminder of what should have been.
Just then the car comes to a stop. Before I can get off of him, the door is pried open, shining the blinding garage lights onto us in the otherwise dark car. I quickly push myself off Elvis, exiting the car and giving an apologetic look to Jerry, who thankfully is the one that opened the car door. 
Elvis steps out next to me, straightening himself out. “Jerry, could you see Bumble back to her room, please.” 
Jerry agrees awkwardly, escorting me to the doors. We stay quiet through the hotel lobby, until we get to the privacy of the elevator. “I couldn’t help but notice you still have something going on with E.P, if you don’t mind me asking, cause I don’t dare bother him about it.”
I scoff out a laugh. Was he actually that intimidating to them? I know he’s prone to having a temper, but he’s nothing but a baby around me most the time. Then I remember he’s waiting for an answer. What could I possibly say?
I sigh. “I’ve known him my whole life, Jerry. Shit, I’ve known him longer than his own mama.” Unfortunately, it was true now. “I love him, as a friend, as a lover. I tried to ignore it, but he really does mean the world to me. I only ever wanted him and it should have only been him, but we were too progressive for the times.” I stare blankly into the metal doors of the elevator. “Shoulda been my ring.” I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”
The door dings open. 
“Thanks for bringing me up. I got it from here.”
.
.
.
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Warnings: Supernatural elements. Dead!Elvis. Reader’s father is dead. Reader denotes elvis to his face. Dilapidated Graceland.
Summary: It’s move-in day! Reader spends the day fixing up the house. By the end of the night, she just wants to relax but something, or someone, needs to talk to her.
A/N: I am fully aware that graceland is cared for and not at all in ruin but the story calls for it. I put a lot of thought into this series and i really want everyone to enjoy it! The story is inspired by my house and what it’s like living here. though i’ve never come face to face with my goulish friends, i do respect them. A small bit, while comical, is something i actually did experience. Granted, i never spoke to anyone, or at least, never got an audible response. Most of this series includes odd happenings that i’ve dealt with. Isn’t that fun? Non-beliver or not, i hope you enjoy it. Happy reading- Bee💕
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September 2023
The keys resting in your palms bring nothing but joy, even after dealing with a snippy mother and grumbling movers on an overcast Thursday afternoon. It should've been alarming, the way that realtor hightailed it off the property, but you were just glad to get your hands on what once was a beautiful home.
Graceland had nearly fallen to ruin; once the previous owner's legacy began to deteriorate, so did respect for the house. Squatters, Drug dealers, vandals, this house has seen it all. Yet, under all that muck and destruction, you saw a chance to restore its beauty.
Your mother was a bit...perturbed by the decision, wondering what she had done in your childhood that could've led to this point. When the idea was first pitched, she laughed it off, assuming it was another one of your odd bouts, like it was some fairytale. So imagine her surprise when you tossed the paperwork onto the breakfast table.
Your mother's concerns only doubled when she actually saw the house. Move-in day is supposed to be exciting, and for you, it is. Pushing past the doors into your new home is something magical. You don't know where to start. The kitchen? The front room? Upstairs? It's all so tempting.
"Mama, this place, it's so beautiful. Doesn't it jus' make you wanna cry?" You exclaim, unable to contain the excitement rushing through your body.
"...That's...well, that's one way to put it." your mother says, watching for possible loose beams as you traverse through the house.
You kiss your teeth at her tone and begin rattling on about your ideas for the space.
"I can fix her up in no time. We can start with the walls; they only need a few patches and a fresh coat a' paint. Oh! And then we can work on the floors. And I'm sure we can find some replicas or have 'em made. I think-"
"Y/n!" your mother interrupts, "Rome wasn't built in a day, baby. Don't get too ahead of yourself. You already broke the bank buyin' this...place and-"
You shake your head "Mama, don't you know who used to live here? Daddy woulda-"
The older woman before you holds up her hand, face dropping into an unamused expression. "Don't compare me to your daddy; we never did have the same tastes. And of course, I know; Elvis was my crush before you were even thought of."
You tilt your head, shifting to move a box. "But you just said you n' daddy didn’t have the same-"
She cuts you off before you can finish your thought. "Hush up and listen to your mama." A chuckle leaves your mouth as she scolds you.
"After all this time, daddy still can't catch a break?"
Your mother lets out a saddened sigh, "Well, he may not be here physically, but pokin' fun at him is the only way I know he's still around."
Your shoulders drop, and you set the box down. Your father passed away six years ago; he didn't want his family knowing he was sick. You thought it was a cruel joke, some twisted prank set to traumatize you forever. The wails your mother let out that night on the kitchen floor told you otherwise. She tries to pretend but hasn't been the same since—the idea of remarrying tossed to the wind like a dandelion's pappi.
"Mama, don't you think daddy would've wanted you to let him go?" you lament, hoping your mother would consider it this time. But, alas, the notion is shot down once again.
"You may not believe in ghosts or the afterlife, y/n, but I do. Your daddy is always with me. It wouldn't be right to get hitched in his face."
You shrug and continue unpacking, "If you say so mama, I jus couldn't imagine stickin' it out till the very end." That statement seems to tickle your mama pink. "You ain't never been in love, sugar pie. When you meet your mister right, you'll know what I mean."
You purse your lips. Even while talking about her dead husband, she hints at your sad love life. To you, love is just a feeling, and the dead are just that, dead. So your mother's musings about 'ghosts' and 'true loves' are nothing short of fantasy in your world.
"O...kay. Well, we've got a lot to do, and we've been talkin' bout nothin' for ten whole minutes. Let's hop to it!"
Your mother rolls her eyes, "This ain't my dream house, honey. I ain't GOT to do nothin' but stay black and die."
"Oh, here you go with that mess. You agreed to help your only baby move in so that I wouldn't 'die in my sleep cause some spider decided to munch on me,' so don't give me none of that." You mock.
Your mother pops your arm and grabs a broom. "You yo' daddy's daughter, alright. Couldn't have got that mouth from me." She mutters.
For the next four hours, the two of you dispose of odd findings, scrub, wash, disinfect, and grumble through the house. By the time you finish, the home is as clean as clean gets. The sun has set, and all you want to do is eat and sleep. The last thing to set up is the bedroom.
You feel a little strange sleeping in a room that once belonged to such a legend, but he isn't here, and the house belongs to you. The wall of TVs would be dealt with later. For now, a flatscreen was simply placed in front of them; aside from that, you pre-ordered replicas of the bedroom furniture, not wanting to personalize too much.
After kissing your mother goodbye, you trudge up the stairs, stopping halfway to crack your back. Once you return to the master suite, flopping on the bed only seems fitting. A groan escapes you as you realize you still need to shower. Rolling over, you grab a towel from your suitcase, lay out some pajamas on the center of the bed, and head for the bathroom.
While waiting for the water to warm, perched on the porcelain throne, the lights flicker. You'll need to replace the bulbs later; simple fix.
When the water reaches hell, you waste no time jumping in. It soothes your aching body, and all of the tension from today washes down the drain. You hum a nonsensical tune to keep you entertained while you clean away the dirt and grime. In the middle of the improvised song, a crash steals your attention.
You finish rinsing and shut off the water, quickly making your way to the bedroom door. You aren't going to investigate; too bright (or too experienced in the horror genre) to even give that a thought. No, you lock the door and mind your business; that is a morning problem.
When you turn back to retrieve your nightwear, you find them on a chair in the corner of the room. Odd. You could've sworn you left them in the middle of the bed. Whatever, you think as you throw them on.
Plopping down on the edge of the bed, you grab the remote and turn the TV on—finally, a moment of peace. You flick through Netflix, desperate to find good background noise. Landing on your favorite show, 'The Good Place,' is enough for you. It's ironic, don't believe in anything after death, or love, and here you are, watching two dead people fall in love.
Halfway through Episode six, the source of entertainment shuts off. You huff; it was getting good too. The remote is behind you, out of reach, so you aren't exactly sure what could've caused this.
"Probably just a glitch," you mumble, turning the TV back on and resuming your minor addiction. This time, you place the remote on the dresser, ensuring no interruptions.
Despite your effort, it happens again; A guttural noise leaves your body. You're broke in a house that's falling apart with no man, pets, and no energy. TV is the one pleasure you have left, and even that is beginning to frustrate you.
Repeating the process, you hold the remote in your hands, eyebrows raised, daring your peace to try and leave again. After a few moments, you sigh in relief as the halfway point passes and set the remote down. As soon as it comes in contact with the plush, black comforter, the TV again fails you.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." You exclaim.
"Ladies shouldn't swear; ain't attractive." A voice bellows from behind you. A shrill shriek is all that is heard as you scramble off the bed. Your eyes search for the source but find nothing. Slowly, you creep toward the bed and snatch up the remote. "Can't go downstairs till morning, and I'm losin' it in here. What a night." You whisper.
A shiver rolls through your body, and you decide it's better to sit on the floor. Again you try with your tv (which you will be returning in the morning), and of course, that doesn't last long.
"Sugarpie, I don't wanna see that junk. If you're gon' watch somethin' in my bed, I suggest it be somethin' good. Not some trash show that don't know the first thing bout bein' dead." The strange voice booms again.
This time when you jump out of your skin and turn to face the intruder, you see what you can only assume to be the world's most accurate Elvis impersonator.
"What the hell are you doin' in my house?!" You screech, "Get out! Get the hell out."
The man before you is nowhere near ready for the projectiles flying his way. Clothes, shoes, books, and a stuffed bear. You name it; it's flying at his head.
"Hey! I—I said—, goddamn! You got an arm on ya! Put the—,"
Elvis can't even finish his sentence as you continue to fling whatever you can at him.
"Get. Out. Of. My. House!" You grunt, each word punctuated with the throw of an object. The tall, blue-eyed stranger ducks and dodges with precision, but when he sees you getting ready to toss a picture frame, one you no doubt failed to realize the importance of in your defensive state, the fun and games stop.
"Drop it! Drop that damn picture right now! Your mama would tan your hide for days if she saw that you broke that frame." Elvis booms.
Your chest is heaving, and you blink, glancing over at the photo.
"S'your daddy, right? Y'all were talkin' in the kitchen bout how it's the last thing he gave ya. You promised ta take care of it. So drop it."
You nod and gently place the photo on the bed, reaching for a good substitute.
"Jus—Just how long have you been here?" you question, ready to launch the lamp in your hand. Elvis ponders for a moment. "What year is it?" He asks, seeming genuine. You quirk an eyebrow, unamused with the game he's playing. "You can't be serious."
He looks at you expectantly, waiting for an actual answer. Your phone is across the room, and the chances of getting past this psycho-wannabe Elvis are slim to none. So, you entertain him. "It's twenty-twenty-three, you should know that." You say, face stoic.
Elvis's eyes widen, "Twenty- Good lord!" He chuckles in disbelief.
"Well, to answer your question lil' mama, if that's true, I've been here for sixty-six years if you're countin' when I bought the house."
You shake your head; there's no way the idiot in front of you is this dedicated. "Yeah, sure, I reckon you want me to believe you're Elvis Presley himself. Is that what this is? Some attempt to scare me?"
Elvis chuckles and shakes his head, "No, ma'am. Ain't no pretendin' round here. I'm the real deal."
You can't help the cackle that slips past your lips.
"My ass!"
Elvis's smirk fades, "I told ya that shit isn't cute. And if ya don't believe me, try to shake my hand." He says, extending the appendage forward.
You scrunch your nose, "Now, why would I do that?"
He shrugs, hand still held out.
"Well, I ain't goin' nowhere for a long time n' you're the first person to see or hear me in ages. Whether ya do or don't, it really ain't too concernin' for me."
You sigh, knowing this is how dumb girls in movies usually meet their end. Can't believe m'doin' this. Shakily, you extend your hand, and when it meets his, it goes right through. You gasp as the limb turns to smoke before materializing again.
"Sweet jesus," you sputter.
"I wouldn't know if he was sweet, I ain't met him yet." Elvis jokes. You back away, very spooked.
"T-This, this isn't possible. Ghosts they—they aren't-"
"Real?" Elvis cuts you off, "Yeah, I heard that part too, jus didn't wanna scare your mama, so I waited till it was jus you n' me."
You scoff, offended, "My mama gets a pass, and I don't?"
He chuckles and sits on the bed, "She believed, you didn't. For someone with a gift this great, ya sure do love ta act like ya don't know what she's talkin' about."
You fold your arms, looking down, "I don't have-"
"Oh, yes ya do. Don't give me none of that. I spent the whole afternoon chit-chattin' with your old man. "
Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. "You spoke to my daddy? How is he? Did he ask bout mama? Because she'd be thrilled. I gave up. I knew I shouldn't have. I'd been tryin' to reach him since he died, but he never-" The smug look on Elvis's face shuts you up.
"Well, first off. Why would ya need to call a man who's in the same house as ya? Second, you'd been tryin' so hard to find happiness for a woman who don't need it, that ya pushed your daddy away anytime he tried. A ghost can only do so much without scarin' someone half to death, baby."
This is all too much; Ghosts exist, Elvis Presley is in front of you, and your daddy hasn't moved on. Mama was right. You lift the covers and shimmy under them.
"I need to sleep on this. Jus—I...I don't know where you go, but scram for the night please."
Elvis chuckles, nodding. In a flash, he evaporates, fumes left behind as he finds another room to settle in.
You breathe through your nose as you think. What a night indeed, miss y/n.
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Taglist: @prayerstopresley @powerofelvis @re3kin
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laneywrld · 1 year
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Have a little faith in me | Austin!Elvis
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Masterlist 
Warnings: no warnings, heartbreaking angst to fluff?
Part 2 of Lose your faith in me.
Listen while you read:
Apple Music, Spotify
If you were being completely honest, you didn’t know where you were going. You had dedicated your life to loving Elvis. Since you married that man at the ripe age of twenty-two you’d been nowhere without him. You couldn’t help the pang of regret striking through you with each step farther you took through the airport. You couldn’t go home, Graceland was Elvis’. With a hesitant shake to your voice, you cleared your voice and decided “I’ll take a ticket to Virginia, thank you.”
Three miles away Elvis remained asleep, dreams filled with your smiles and the angelic laughs you slipped his way. In his dreamy haze, he couldn’t help but hope that this was real and never changing. 
Five hours Elvis awoke, the coldness of where you once lay becoming an unsettling awareness. “Baby!” He called out, pushing the covers from his body. He called out to you once more before taking panicked steps to the bathroom. 
Empty. 
The lounge area,
Empty.
The kitchen,
Empty. 
Where the hell were you? The thought that you had left him hadn’t even begun to be considered until he noticed the missing pieces of you from your shared suite. No shoes discarded in the entryway, no glass of water on your nightstand, no socks thrown by the foot of the bed, no clutter on the bathroom sink. No anything, no you. And the possibility became all too real.
You had left, you had left him. 
He didn’t feel the wet eyes he’d had since he felt your missing presence and he surely didn’t notice his trembling hands until he found himself crawling back into the bed, gripping the pillow where your head once lay. Bringing the fabric to his chest, your smell remained and the tears made a path from his heavenly eyes to the smooth surface of your silk pillow... It was enough to calm his nerves until his head tilted just enough to notice the glimmer of your wedding ring, shining on his nightstand rather than your pretty little finger. 
“God, no!” He cried. “No!”
And suddenly he suffered the disappointment from waking up from such a pleasant dream, the dreadful realization that it wasn’t real, eating him alive. He was suddenly aware of the unsettling thumping of his heartbeat, clutching the pillow closer to him he cried out, for you. 
The pillow pressed to his face did nothing to muffle the gut-wrenching sobs pouring from his body. He could hear nothing but the thumping of his own heart and your hurt voice from the night prior “Elvis! That hurt! Go to Bed!” And suddenly he couldn't breathe, the shuddering intakes of air doing nothing to calm his breaking, beating heart.”
“Breathe Elvis, just focus, hear my heartbeat? Focus on that?”
And suddenly he was in your arms again, listening to the subtle and soothing thump of your heart, “Everything is okay, it’s okay I’m here.” Holding his crumpled body to your chest you slowly rocked the two of you back and forth, doing your best to wipe the stray tears shedding from your eyes. “My mama!” He cried, gaining the ability to speak, not yet coherent. “I know baby, I know.”
“What am I gonna do huh?” He sobbed, nestling his ear into your chest, “You’re going to breathe and you’re going to be okay, y’hear?”
“Don’t leave me baby, I-I”
“Shh, hush up with that honey, I’m not ever gonna leave you, I’ll stay right here, okay? You ain't ever gonna lose me, I swear it.”
“I love you,” he sobbed, “you’re everything to me.”
With a quick wipe of your face, you coddled his head closer to you, “I’m going to protect you, Elvis, for your mama, baby. I’m not going anywhere, just breathe for me okay?”
And so he did, with each soft thump of your heart he inhaled, and with the next, he expelled that very same breath, because you were there. And that alone was enough for him to find the will.
In. 
Out.
In.
Out.
“Elvis!”
So consumed in his head and the remembrance of you and your calming heart,  he didn’t have time to register that it wasn’t your voice calling his name, with hopeful eyes he lifted his head, just to be filled with dread all over again.
“Jerry, Where is my wife Jerry!” He cried, gripping the ring like his life depended on it. “Where’d my girl go Jerry, tell me where my love went,” he muttered, rocking himself back and forth. The site was pitiful and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. 
“Man, Elvis.” Jerry sighed making his way to his best friend's side. “We're gonna find her brother, you're gonna get your wife back, you hear me.” 
He stayed like that the entire day, not leaving your spot on the bed once. Vernon found a home in the empty spot beside his son, rubbing his hand over his son's hair ever so gently. If he was being honest he didn’t know what to say. He knew his son treasured you more than life itself and he was worried about what this would do to him. 
He knew that when his wife died, no words would be enough to fill the hole punctured in his heart. He knew that Elvis loved you like no other love. The adoration he felt for his late wife, although the greatest love he’d ever experienced, would never measure or compare when it came to the love his son felt for you. Vernon wasn’t a bad father, he knew he wasn’t the best, and he didn’t have the best record when it came to being there for his son. You had always been there for his son though, but you’re not now. So how does a broken-hearted man comfort another?
He couldn’t. So with wet eyes and a broken heart, for his son, his wife, and you, Vernon continued to caress his boy's head in his lap and prayed that he would be able to make it through this and that you were alright. 
You weren’t.
Locked away in the spare room of your brother's home you weren’t in any better shape. Gripping the ‘TCB’ necklace around your neck you cried. He’d been in your head constantly, every single thought you’d had since leaving him threw you right back into the memories of the whirlwind you called your relationship. Why was he in your head so much when he shouldn't be! You left him! YOU left him, for god sake, so why was this so hard? 
You thought life would be simpler by leaving Elvis. That obviously wasn’t the case. So by nature when your brother peered at you from the doorframe you couldn’t help but scramble to rid your face of the salty tears. “You’re weird.” He offered with a grimacing smile, before trotting over and settling into the space beside you. Backs leaning against the bed as you sat on the floor, he leaned forward to have a peek at the images laying before you. 
“I-I, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You stuttered out the whine watching your sibling offer an incredulous gawk at you from over his shoulder. “You’re crying because you love him, idiot.”
“But I don’t want to,” you rebutted “I wanted this to be easy, leaving him would've been easier-”
“If you didn’t love him,” he finished for you, “don’t worry about it, I’m not judging you. There's nothing wrong with needing to leave, even if it’s not permanent.” He raised a brow at you, placing an image in your lap. “Remember that?” 
Of course, you remembered. You remembered every waking, breathing moment with Elvis. 
“I don’t know about this sweetheart,” Elvis muttered nervously. 
“It’s just a little makeup, gonna make you look pretty,” you spoke with the goofiest grin. Placed in your designated spot on your boy's lap you applied the mascara swipe by swipe. “M’not pretty, I’m a  handsome, manly, man” he spoke in all actuality raising his eyebrows at you. “Mhmm,” you hummed with equal seriousness, “I think you’re beautiful, the prettiest boy alive.”
And you paused your hand, gazing deep into his peary eyes with matching raised brows. “So pretty the moon is jealous, so pretty the sun wishes he could see you all twenty-four hours of the day, so pretty that you’re going to go out there and make all of those girls faint,” you whispered jokingly.
“I don’t care about the other girls, though.” He clarified. “Oh I know love, I’m it for you remember.”
And after a few touch-ups of his eye makeup and extra quick pecks, Elvis found himself on stage doing exactly as you predicted, the ladies were dropping like flies, and the cocky smirk on your face only had him grinning right back at you.  “Thank you, Everybody!” He called out rushing backstage to you where he lifted you into the air and gave you a teasing shake.
Gripping his shoulders for support, you teased, “have a little faith in me.”
So deep in love, the two of you didn’t catch the flash of the camera capturing the exchange.
“It’s been three weeks, if you feel like you gave the relationship your best shot you can leave it at that.” Leave it to your brother, all the wiser to give you the best advice. “If you honestly believe that nothing will change, you don’t have to go back.”
“But, y’know Elvis, and y’know he’d turn hell into an ice rink if you asked, I think this is something y’all can fix, and if you think that too... The ticket to Memphis is on me.”
Elvis spent the first week after you left him medicated on stage, putting on shows that he couldn't get out of. The second week he flew to Graceland, he knew you wouldn’t be there but he couldn’t help the hope that he held. Nor the disappointment when he stepped foot into the empty home. 
He hadn't left since, opting to spend his days watching home videos of you both together, clutching clothing to his chest and fiddling with your ring dangling from his chain. He felt delusional to the idea of you coming back, so much so, that when he heard the front door to Graceland creak softly, he equated it to the cruel imagination of his brain. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s envisioned you embracing him again. 
After his fifth panic attack, Dr. Nick gave him medicine to help, medically he owed these hallucinations to the drugs, really, he owed them to how much he loved and missed you. 
When he heard the slam of the front door, he shot up, sitting in deathly silence, it was not real. He scolded. Stop doing this to yourself. 
But the fast-paced thumps up the stairs had him shooting out of bed and swinging the bedroom door open.
There you were, at the top of the stairs, eyes wide and watery. “Satnin.” it was a breathless whisper, so low you barely heard it. “I’m sorry” you replied equally as broken.
You had no time to register him approaching you until you felt the gentle pressure of his fingers pressing into your cheeks, then rapidly palming your face to tilt your head towards his. Head held high you sent your man a watery smile, the frown on his face hitting you like a bag of bricks. 
And then he was leaning down pressing a series of short pecks to your mouth, before pressing into you completely. The kiss which seemed to last for hours really lasted for only a dozen short seconds and had you both breathless and gasping. With a quick huff of air, he was on you again, only inhaling such a fast breath for the sole purpose of kissing you again. 
Before he pulled away again, he let his lips hover over yours for a few seconds, barely brushing. He gave you one last soft press of his lips, and his voice cracked  “I missed you so much, I can’t breathe without you baby.” 
“I know love, I let you down, and I’m not ever going to leave you ever again, need you more than anything.”
“I love you, mama, I don’t know how to breathe without you, never again okay? Never again.” He croaked, velvet tears gliding from his cheeks onto the soft skin of your face. 
“Never again baby, too crazy in love with you, have a little faith in me, okay?
If you enjoyed this work, try White Dress :)
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mamasturn · 2 years
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austin butler masterlist.
intro; hiya! below are links to all ab related pieces. those with steamier parts have a 18+ warning.
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series’
dirty dancing, ep. elvis presley (2022) finds interest in a young woman he meets at club handy. 18+ steam
la douleur exquise, original. a toxic relationship between childhood frenemies. 18+, complete.
is it a crime?, original. sequel to la douleur exquise.
one-shots
suspicious minds, ab. his marriage is on the rocks, and he is determined to make it right before it’s too late.
attention, ab. flirtatious banter between two old flames.
philia, ab. he and his wife hit the red carpet for the first time and are met with scrutiny.
discussions, ab. he shares how having discussions with his wife helped him prepare for his role.
want this, want you, ab. friends to lovers trope.
henny talk, ab. two ex’s reunite over drinks and let the hennessy do the talking for them. 18+ for language.
cry, ab. the aftermath of heartache. triggering scenario.
ruby, ab. how his mind processes the thought of an intense connection with his lover.
let me, sk. she’s new to the school. he’s the cute boy.
nothing without you, sk. two lovesick teenagers are head over heels with one another. II. III.
like a prayer, sk. in which an inexperienced individual gets the test the waters with his lover. 18+ steam
pretty browns in gowns, ep. ep becomes infatuated with a seamstress on beale street.
kisses through the phone, ep. ep falls asleep to the voice of his girl.
crown, ep. she’s insecure about her natural hair, but he’s always there to reassure her of her beauty.
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woniipii · 6 months
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request box guide !
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▬ official request box for me! Below is a guide on things I’m offering to write so, go crazy. Please, be specific with everything so I get it right!
𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨.
short angst sentence starters.
short angst pt.2 (hit em where it hurt).
dark angsty sentence starters.
hostile sentence starters.
crime dialogue and prompts.
crime themed sentences starters.
fluff dialogue and prompts.
fluff sentence starters.
caring sentence starters.
simple love.
request box is open!!!
more to come later!
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