#elvis halloween
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𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬
Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader
Word count: 4,5K
Summary: You and Elvis are always playing pranks on each other. This Halloween, you come up with a prank that goes horribly wrong as Elvis doesn't think it's so funny and gets genuinely upset. But like always, your partner eventually comes around and gets his revenge.
Warnings: strong language, playing with a ouija board, fake demonic possession, mentions of the devil, elvis being upset, elvis calling reader a bitch, pranks that you probs shouldn't use on other people, tiny bit of angst, reader and larry gellar disliking each other. guess that's it?
A/N: hello, hi! i guess this isn't really spooky but felt like it fit the season! there's pranks in this that i don't advise you to use on anyone unless that's you're kind of humor. wrote this in an hour or so because it randomly popped into my mind and well... i thought it was funny 👀. just want to make clear that this is in no way me making fun of elvis' spirituality in any way, nor is reader, if some people might think thatttt or if it comes across as that. just wanted to write something else rather than a vamp!elvis fic like my brain already was thinking about for halloween, AAAAH. also, this doesn't include all members of the mm or any of the other guys because i didn't know where to place them. okay, bye. p.s: be a smart cookie and don't use a ouija board.
Elvis didn’t care for Halloween.
Never did when he was young and never did as he was growing into an adult. Sure, when he was a little boy and his friends would drag him along to go trick or treating he could appreciate the free candy, but that was about it. After complaining about the people in scary costumes on the street when he was around 7, his mother stopped him from going out on All Hallow’s Eve and he appreciated her doing so.
As he got older, he’d usually be working on the last day of October and whenever he wasn’t, he would rent out the Memphian and watch horror movies with the guys, other friends and some of his fans. He enjoyed playing pranks and scaring the shit out of the people around him, but that’s where celebrating Halloween ended for Elvis.
His Christianity or beliefs didn’t have anything to do with it. He simply preferred holidays that involved lots of homecooked foods, spreading joy, giving gifts and being surrounded by his loved ones. Like Thanksgiving and especially, Christmas.
You on the other hand are obsessed with Halloween. You always put a lot of effort in your costumes and Elvis allowed you to put carved pumpkins by the front door with a lit candle inside of it, but he wouldn’t celebrate with you in any other way than watching movies. You were too old to go trick or treating, so you were happy when Lisa Marie was over at Graceland on some Halloween evenings to do so with her, but this year she unfortunately was in California with her mother.
This Halloween you put little effort into your costume, opting for a black cat suit with a tail, some drawn on whiskers that complimented the dark eye make-up you were sporting, and a pair of black cat ears. Elvis wasn’t complaining because you looked smoking hot in it, but he wasn’t aware that you chose this simple outfit because you had bigger plans for tonight that involved… well, let’s say, a lot of action.
After watching a few movies at the Memphian with Elvis, some fans and the guys, you all made it back to Graceland. It was only around 1 in the morning which was early for the bunch you were living with, so nobody was tired yet. Which was good, because you and Charlie Hodge had come up with the perfect prank to play on Elvis and the two of you managed to convince everyone to get involved in it.
The only one who wasn’t up for it was Larry Gellar and you were slightly worried that he’d out your little plan and ruin the whole thing. You were praying that he’d just go home already, but much to your chagrin, he was sitting on the couch and conversing with Elvis, not looking as if he’d leave any time soon. You were just going to have to risk it.
“Let’s play a game!” You chirped happily as you held up a plastic bag, pulling off your cat tail and throwing it by the side of the couch. “I found this today at the store. The sales girl told me it’s the perfect game to play during Halloween, because then you know it really works,”
Elvis watches with curiosity as you pull a large box out of the bag, turning it around and showing him the front. As he realises you were holding up a ouija board, he was immediately intrigued. Ever the curious person, especially when it came to things about spirituality, Elvis slides to the edge of the couch and takes the box out of your hands, opening the lid to take the board out and inspect it.
“Hell no, I ain’t playin’ that,” Lamar immediately says as he glances at the board and you try to suppress a grin. His reaction was the one you told him to give. If Lamar would play, Elvis was going to take the chance to tease the hell out of him for a week straight because Lamar scared easily when it came to these things.
“Ah c’mon, Fike. It’ll be fun,” Elvis grins as he places the board in the middle of the coffee table. You give Charlie a quick thumbs up and he grins, agreeing to play the game. Sonny and Red agree as well, but Larry decides to sit this one out. You were happy about that and as you go around the living room to dim the lights and light some candles, you feel instantly annoyed when you hear Larry’s voice.
“Elvis, I don’t think this is a good idea. Playing with an object like that can be dangerous, you know?” Larry chimes in, looking at Elvis with worried eyes. Never really having liked Larry, you roll your eyes. Elvis doesn’t see it but Red does and he sticks his finger in his mouth, feigning a gag. The two of you silently laugh and you sit down on the floor by the table, Elvis sliding onto the floor next to you.
“It’s not dangerous, baby. It’s just a game,” you quickly tell Elvis as Larry once more expresses his concern. Elvis looks at Larry once more before he turns to you and grins, kissing the corner of your mouth as he grabs the planchet and puts it on the board. Larry gives you an annoyed glare and you ignore it, happy that he decides to retreat back into the kitchen. Joe sits back on the couch along with Billy to watch the game unfold, simply because there wasn’t enough space for more fingers on the planchet.
“You sneaky sonofabitch. You’re the one movin’ that thing!” Elvis exclaims in slight annoyance as he glares at Sonny who sat on the opposite side of the table. Sonny widens his eyes, trying his best to hold back a laugh as he shakes his head.
“I swear to God, I ain’t doin’ it!”
You and Charlie exchange a knowing look. It was the two of you taking turns sneakily moving the planchet with the tips of your fingers, but Elvis didn’t notice a thing. He was too intrigued and focused on the words “it”, or in this case you, were spelling out. You hadn’t propeely opened communication or whatsoever, so the board wasn’t working at all. You believed that a ouija board could truly work if you wanted it to and you could communicate with… well, someone or something, but that wasn’t the intention for tonight.
You just wanted to play the prank of the century on your man like he has done to you so many times before.
All of you ask random questions at first that require simple answers. Then you decide to take matters further into your own hands and add up the dramatics a notch. You needed it to be spooky. Elvis doesn’t scare easily, the morgue trips he often makes with you were proof of that, and you want him to be terrified tonight.
“Someone dies tonight.”
All of you exchange uncomfortable glances, though only that of Elvis was real. He shifts a little on the floor and takes his finger off the planchet, accusing Charlie instead of Sonny now.
“Hodge, stop pullin’ my leg with this bullshit!” He huffs and Charlie widens his eyes, scared that you and him got caught, and just as he opens his mouth to defend his case, you speak up.
“Elvis! You’re not allowed to take your hands off of it without saying goodbye!” You grab his hand and bring it back to the board, putting his finger back on the planchet. He looks at you and scoffs, squinting his eyes.
“Oooh, I see. It’s you, ain’t it?”
You mentally curse yourself. Was your acting that bad? Shaking your head as you give him your most serious face, you tell him that it’s truly not you who is moving the planchet and before he can question you further, Charlie sneakily spells out something else.
“The girl.”
“That’s it. I ain’t playin’ no more. Say goodbye, goddamnit,” Elvis barks in annoyance. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud but he truly believed the planchet was moving by itself and spelling out these things. He was having fun when they started and asked random and silly questions, but now it was getting a little too serious for him.
A little too scary.
This thing was threatening your life and he felt a sense of paranoia fill his chest. What if you’d really die because of this stupid game?
No. No, you weren’t going to die. It’s just a game. It’s not real- he refuses to believe it’s real.
You quickly say goodbye along with everyone else, moving the planchet over the word before taking your hands off. You bite your lip to hold back a laugh and wrap your arms around Elvis’ neck as he leans back against the couch, crossing his arms after he shoved the board across the table. You giggle softly and hug him, planting kisses on his cheek.
“Stop that worryin’. It’s just a game, El, nothing is going to happen.”
Although he doesn’t believe you and is still worried, he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, hugging you back.
You spent the rest of the late evening playing some music and Elvis doing a spontaneous jam session, which got his mind off of that damned ouija board. After all, it was just a game. Nothing was going to happen and tomorrow afternoon, he’d wake up with you in his arms.
Alive and well.
But as you two got upstairs to his bedroom and got ready for bed, he wasn’t going to take no risks. There was a baseball bat leaning against the wall by the door and a hand gun laying atop of his Bible on the bedside table. You look at it as you got into bed where Elvis already was, sitting against the headboard with the TV on.
“What are you gonna do? Shoot a ghost?” You joke with a soft snort and he looks at you, simply nodding his head.
“Hell. I will if I have to,”
“My protector,” You swoon playfully as you run your fingers through his hair, laughing. He chuckles softly and sighs, kissing your lips before he allows you to settle in the bed. You pretend to watch some TV with him but couldn’t contain your excitement, curious to know what his reaction was going to be when the best part of the prank would play out.
Since you fell asleep pretty quick most of the time, Elvis didn’t think anything of it when he heard you lightly snoring as you had turned your back to him. He had his arm leaning across your hip, needing to touch you in one way or another, always. Unbeknown to him, you were wide awake and looking at the alarm clock on your side of the bed. You had told Charlie to give you twenty minutes before you’d set things into motion and as that amount of time had passed, you started off your little prank slow.
Ease Elvis into it, so to speak.
Pretending you were having a nightmare, you twitch lightly while mumbling some soft incoherent sentences, moaning uncomfortably. Elvis who was still wide awake moves his hand from your hip to your hair, caressing it soothingly as he sits up a little to look over at you. Figuring you’re still sleeping, he leans back against the headboard of the bed but only a split second later, you suddenly shoot up to sit in the bed. Startled, his heart skips a beat and he quickly sits up again too, moving some of your hair over your shoulder. He’s familiar with sleepwalking, but he has never seen you do it before. He knows not to wake someone when they’re in a state like this nor call out their name, but his worries grow by tenfold as your body slumps against him.
And then starts twitching and goddamn near convulsing as you throw your head back. He widens his eyes in shock as your eyes roll in the back of your head, your arms hanging limp by your side. Holding your frame, he tries to keep you still as he cups your face.
“Y/N! Y/N!” He slaps your cheek softly, unsure of what to do in a situation like this. He curses loudly as he reaches over to the phone on the bedside table, putting it to his ear as he calls downstairs and yells to whoever is on the other end of the line to come upstairs.
Like clockwork, Charlie comes running in not much later and feignes a gasp at the sight of your state. Elvis looks over at him, desperate for help.
“Goddamnit, Charlie, do somethin’!” Elvis yells as your body seems to be twisting and turning into uncomfortable positions, arching your back as you let out deep groans and grunts. You didn’t even know your voice could get that low, but you were impressed by yourself.
An eerie feeling washes over Elvis and he slowly lets go of you as you push yourself out of arms, standing on top of the bed. And then you just start… laughing.
Like an absolute maniac.
The sound sent shivers down Elvis’ spine and he quickly got off the bed, standing next to Charlie as they both look at you, unsure of what was happening. Well, at least one of them. Charlie was completely sucked up into his role though and he took a step back, fear in his eyes.
He was a damn good actor.
Something clicked inside of Elvis’ brain as you look at him with a menacing look in your eyes, smirking like the Devil himself just walked into the room.
That goddamned board.
“Get my Bible,” Elvis orders Charlie, never taking his eyes off of you. Charlie does as he’s told and grasps the Bible from the bedside table, handing it to Elvis. The singer takes off the necklace he was wearing with a cross pendant hanging on the silver chain and hands it to Charlie, looking at the smaller male.
“Put this on her forehead,”
“Elvis...” Charlie widens his eyes, holding onto the necklace and pretending to be terrified of going near you. “Can’t we.. can’t we just call an ambulance?!”
Charlie was going to do whatever Elvis told him to do anyways because it makes the situation seem more natural but even if he wouldn’t be acting, the glare that Elvis gives him is enough to have him sprint into action. He runs over to the bed and pulls you down, keeping you down on the mattress as he presses the cross against your forehead. As you look at Charlie, you have to try your damnest not to ruin things and laugh, but luckily you manage to stay in your role.
Writhing on the bed and trying to get out of Charlie’s grip with what truly is little effort but looks like a lot, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. Elvis comes closer to the bed while he is quickly reciting any kind of prayer he thinks might work, reading psalm after psalm. He’s taken back for a second when you did what Charlie and you rehearsed- kicking the brunette off of you and making him land on the floor. You swear you could hear Charlie chuckling, but Elvis is only focused on you.
Now you are the one that is taken back as he gets on top of you and grabs your wrists, holding them above your head as he’s still reciting prayers. He’s yelling at the non existent demon inside of you to get the hell out and Charlie has to muffle a laugh in the palm of his hand, curious about what you were going to do because neither of you expected this.
You felt a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat, so before it could come out, you stop writhing on the bed and drop your head to the side, pretending that the prayers worked and it has all come to an end. Elvis sat on top of you for a few more minutes until he releases your hands and gets up, closing his Bible. He watches you, ready to once more go into action as he sees you casually sit up and get up from the bed. He frowns a little as you walk over to Charlie and hook your arm through his, clearing your throat.
“The end.” You and Charlie gracefully bow, bursting out into uncontrollable laughter.
Until you notice one person in the room isn’t laughing.
Feeling the mood shifting in the room and as if a thunderstorm just passed over Graceland, you stop laughing as you see Elvis glaring at the both of you. You walk over to him as he throws his Bible on the bed and cup his face, but he’s quick to swat your hands away and get back into his bed.
“Elvis, c’mon. Don’t be mad, baby. We were just having a little fun,” you laugh softly, sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. He turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes icy cold. You weren’t unfamiliar with that look but usually it was something more serious that brought it on and you never liked it.
But what you weren’t realising is that this was serious to Elvis. He thought he was going to lose you to some freaky demonic entity.
“Get out.” He simply states in a low voice, turning his head back to the TV that was still on. You look at Charlie and he gives you a little nod, taking you out of the room with him.
You succeeded in pranking the prank master, but you’re afraid you pushed him too far and that simply wasn’t worth it.
You figured Elvis would be over it by the day after Halloween and things would go back to normal. But then again, you know Elvis like the back of your hand and although you were not surprised by him ignoring you for a week straight, you were still hurt.
When he learned that all of the guys were involved in your little prank, he let them have a piece of his mind and that was that. But you were walking on eggshells. He even made you sleep in Lisa Marie’s bedroom for that entire week.
By Sunday night, you were fed up with it. Maybe you had taken things too far, but it was just idiotic that he wouldn’t even let you sleep in the same bed as him.
“What do you think you’re doin’?” He snaps as he watches you burst into the bedroom and get into the bed next to him, fluffing your pillow.
“What does it look like?” Maybe you don’t have the right to be annoyed with him, but you are. He knows how much you hate to be ignored and you’ve been worrying yourself all week with all sorts of doom scenarios, like him ending the relationship.
He grabs your arm to pull you out of bed but you sit up and pull your arm out of his grasp, the words flying rapidly off your tongue. “Good God, Elvis. I’ve told you I’m sorry about a thousand times, but you don’t wanna hear it! You haven’t spoken a word to me in a week. At least yell at me, be angry with me, do something!”
His nostrils flare as his jaw clenches and he sits up more straight, turning his body into your direction.
“You want me to yell? Be angry? Fine!” He barks harshly, his loud rich voice booming off the walls. “I thought I was gon’ fuckin’ lose you that damn night! I thought you really were gon’ die, Y/N. That there was some sonofabitch inside of ya who was takin’ ya away from me. If you think that’s so hilarious, well hell, then you really are an evil bitch,”
You weren’t hurt by him calling you a bitch. You and Elvis fought enough times in the past that involved ugly name calling but you always made up minutes later. It never lasted for days. But learning that he was truly afraid of losing you in that moment causes your heart to clench uncomfortably in your chest. You feel a pang of guilt in your gut and your shoulders slump, tears burning in your eyes as you could see a tear rolling down Elvis’ cheek. He quickly wipes it away and looks at the TV set, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Elvis, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” You exclaim breathlessly as you crawl closer to him and hide your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His body tenses up but then he quickly relaxes under your touch and wraps his arms around your frame, placing one hand on the back of your head to press you firmer against him. “i didn’t mean to scare you like that, I really didn’t. I just thought it would be a fun prank for Halloween. I never thought it’d turn out like this.”
It was never your intention to truly hurt Elvis or emotionally scare him. Deep down inside, Elvis knows this and he feels a little guilty about giving you the cold shoulder for a week, but he doesn’t feel the need to apologize to you for that. Instead, he accepts your apology with a long tender kiss and then cups your cheeks as he looks into your eyes.
“You can prank me, baby, jus’… no more pranks like that, okay?” He whispers as he brushes some hair out of your face, thumbing a tear away from the corner of your eye. You nod, promising him that you’ll never do something like this again and keep it at small pranks only.
That same night, you and Elvis stand outside at the back of Graceland, watching the ouija board melt into mush in the firepit.
He wasn’t going to take any chances and forbids you to play with a board like that for the rest of your life. You have no problem promising him that you will never touch another ouija board again and content with your answer, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and looks at the flames.
“Don’t ever do that to me again, Little,” he whispers as he presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo before he kisses your head. You wrap your arm around his waist and hold him close as you nod, resting your head against his chest. “I can’t lose ya. Ever.”
“I promise, Elvis,” you say as you raise your head and look up at him, kissing his chin. “You’ll never lose me. Even the Devil can’t take me away from you.”
He grins at your words and pecks your lips, but then he pulls his head back and looks past you, frowning. Curious, you look over your shoulder and a hot feeling of fear immediately spreads throughout your chest, widening your eyes as you see two man wearing scary wolf masks stalking toward you and Elvis.
It was only you and your boyfriend at the house tonight, but still when one of the men grabs you and a few others that came from the other side of the premises grab Elvis, you scream at the top of your lungs for help. It doesn’t do much and your vision is taken from you as you’re being blindfolded, a hand being placed firmly over your mouth.
You were thrown in the back of a car and after driving for what felt like hours, you were being lifted out of the car. You couldn’t speak as one of the men had shoved what you guessed was a tie in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop cussing at them in the back of the car. You were surprised they hadn’t knocked you unconscious yet.
You were terrified of what was to come, but more so you were worried sick about Elvis. The last thing you had seen were a couple of masked maniacs overpowering him and dragging him away. Having no idea where he was or if he was even still alive, you were determined to break free and get out of where ever you were.
You needed to get to Elvis. The thought of never seeing him again made your head spin, feeling like you were about to either faint or be ill.
Despite your inner turmoil, you didn’t stop fighting your kidnappers. Not even as you were being placed on a chair, your hands tied behind your back and your ankles tied together. As the fabric was pulled out of your mouth, you were about to scream again until your blindfold was taken off. As your eyes adjust to your surroundings, you widen your eyes when you see Elvis and the Memphis Mafia standing in front of you, all wearing shit eating grins.
You realise you’re sitting in the pool room.
The guys all burst out into rumbling laughter, Elvis included, and he bends down to be at your eye level, his hands placed on his knees as he grins.
“Honey, I’m gon’ say this once and for all,” he bites his lip as he laughs, that mischievous little boy gleam in his eyes. “Don’t prank the master.”
You sarcastically laugh along with him as he unties you, glaring at Lamar who was having an uncontrollable fit of giggles when he tells you you should’ve seen yourself when him and Sonny were driving you around the block to make you think you were being taken somewhere else.
You stand up from the chair as Elvis has let you free and grab a poolstick from the wall. Red snickers.
“We should probably start runnin’ now, huh?”
“Yup.” Elvis smirks, popping the ‘P’ as he shoves the guys out of the way and starts making a run for it. You were immediately hot on all of their heels, your main suspect being Elvis, as you yell profanities at them while trying not to laugh.
Both you and Elvis know that this was only the start of what would become a very, very long prank war and you’re determined to take his title away from him, although you doubted you’d succeed at that.
As long as it didn’t involve ouija boards and any kind of demonic possession, Elvis was ready for whatever you had planned for him. But just to be absolutely sure, he made a mental reminder to have Lisa Marie stay at Graceland for Halloween next year so he could benefit of the free candy and admire your matching costumes with his daughter rather than thinking he was going to have to give you up to the Devil.
Because one way or another, he would shoot the sonofabitch.
taglist: @notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley @ccab @whatstruthgottodowithit @dkayfixates @lettersfromvenus @elvisalltheway101 @that-hotdog @robinismywife @jaqueline19997 @raginginkedslut @joshuntildawn13 @claire-elvisgirl
#elvis#elvis presley#elvis x reader#elvis presley x reader#elvis prompt#elvis presley prompt#elvis headcanons#elvis presley headcanons#elvis smut#elvis presley smut#elvis x y/n#elvis presley x y/n#elvis halloween#elvis fans#tamwrites
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so i’m hosting a elvis themed halloween party!! like one of those where each person comes as something different elvis related, well
i’m being priscilla obv but i’m having a hard time finding an outfit ):
this is the only thing that i found that was cute and not annoying like “70’s hippie-esque” but i’m not really sure it reads Priscilla :(
i’m doing the cilla hair & liner obv but if u have any suggestions pls help 🥺
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for laughs some of my (mostly female) friends coming are dressing as:
- the colonel lmfao
- lesbian version of pink suit
- suspicious minds white suit elvis (or pink scarf)
- a pill LOL
- hawaii elvis
- bb king (bf to the girl doing suspicious minds elvis lol)
#elvis#elvis halloween party#austin butler elvis#elvis halloween#elvis movie#austin butler#elvis presley
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ELVIS FOAM LATEX MASK
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Season of the witch
Elvis Presley. One of the biggest and most handsome musicians comes through your sleepy little town you couldn’t help yourself from giving him your potent honey pie. Little does he know it’s laced with your love sex pollen.
50s Elvis Presley x Witch! Reader.
Word count: 9k.
Warnings: Elvis becomes obsessed. To the point where he’s a munch. Sex pollen. Witchcraft, little talk of religion. Manipulation. Dubious consent. Talk of being eaten out, teeth. Heavy emphasis on breeding. Little coercion. Making out. Stalking. Slight noncon. You literally put him under a spell so he’ll be your pet. Titty sucking. Period sex. He has mommy issues and calls you mama a lot. Talk of drugs.
A/n: The only reason why I wrote this is because it’s inspired by one of my favorite movies The Love Witch, the scene where she poisons Wayne and he becomes so madly in love with her. Wanted to write this for Halloween too. So have a very devilish night imagining yourself as a witch in the 50s and having a 22yr old Elvis being bedeviled by you.
It was cold, very cold for a Halloween night in the Deep South. It had just rained and poured the night prior. The streets flooded with water, and puddles grew. The gold and brown dead leaves fell into the wakeless puddles. The sky overhead was dark with storm clouds; it was barely 5 o'clock, and it looked like midnight. It was so depressing, just as you liked it in your little town.
You made a honey pie for him. For Elvis Presley. You’re not sure how the governor arranged for him to perform at the little banquet. Your town needed the money and the praise. The once-booming oil town has now dwindled into a pass-through town to get to the interstate. Nothing was there; a couple of restaurants and a grocery store were it. A few antique mom-and-pop stores—nothing to stop at. The town's population barely broke two hundred this year. Full of old Bible-thumping seniors. The governor presumed if he got Elvis to perform then newcomers would realize how interesting the town is and would get people to move. Balance the old with the young.
Children were a phenomenon; the only time you saw kids was when it was their grandparent's turn to babysit. The youngest people who lived there were you and your friend Eileen, who was a few years older than you. She was actually the one who introduced you to your way of living. The art of witchcraft. She taught you mostly everything she knew, specializing in love. The most dangerous part of crafting. She even taught you how to make the love potion in the pie. The pie that he’ll eat.
Eileen said that she’ll meet with you at the hall. A stuffy run-down chapel that no one used, that was built in the 20s. It was a bit ironic that the governor chose Elvis, he wasn’t known for his godly beliefs but for his rather devilish dances. The governor came to realize the only way he could change the town was to shift the focus of religion, so people would feel comfortable living here.
Eileen had introduced you to a cult a few towns over that allowed you to express yourself better. To allow your blessings to become stronger. The cold nips at your legs and the pad between your thighs make your skin even more sensitive. Your black stockings didn’t allow any warmth. The dark wool coat with fur-lined on the inside was your only heat source. Your black jean dress had a white long sleeve under it to give you a little bit more heat too. The wool socks under your boots helped a bit too. Your cheeks and nose are painted a dusty pink.
The pie was in a plastic round Tupperware bowl. Surely he'd only need one bite for it to hit, you made absolutely no mistake in making the pie potent. Not wanting for your only chance of him falling in love with you go to waste. Oct 31st, 1957 you were going to make Elvis Presley fall madly in love with you.
The chapel breathed with people. The seniors in town didn't bother coming. They were actually repulsed by the notion of Elvis coming here. However, the hundred or so people who did were in a two-hundred-mile radius. You're not sure how they knew he was coming but they were here. You shuffled past all the different giddy girls, trying to find Eileen. She'd most likely be in the back eating the crackers that they stored for commission.
From the amount of people who came it looked like the second coming of Christ. The governor decided to make a row of food outside for the people who couldn't get in. Handing out plates full of homemade meals. You knew that you had to hide the pie in the back closet. How you were going to make Elvis eat it would be the most important question. Maybe since you and Eileen were huddled in the back he’d walk past and you’d be able to convince him. That was a big maybe.
Your attention went back to the governor who looked at you. The governor was an older man, named Henry. Late in his 40s with dark black hair now turned gray. He was tall and wasn't ugly in the slightest. His family was politicians, founded the town even though it was his right to become governor when his legacy was passed down. His lineage extends to the church along with the police. His Father was the priest of the chapel until he died a few years ago. The only reason why you knew this was because you had a fling with him. He was cute and the town was little so why wouldn’t you? It was only until you realized that the love pollen only amplified their deepest subconscious was what warded you off of him. He was nothing but the son of Satan himself. Coming home and finding him doped up to the point where he’s incapable of thinking because the only thing he could think about was you. Thankfully, Eileen helped you reverse the spell but something still in him yearns to be with you. You learned from your mistake and made the pie far less potent.
As you stood in the long line you listened to women chatter amongst themselves about Elvis and where he was. Holding onto your plastic bowl you moved in with the crowd, slowly but surely. The table the governor was sitting at was right by the chapel's door. He smiled as he handed over another full plate.
“Thanks for comin’.”
Finally making it to the door he holds his hands out expecting you to give your pie to him with a smile. His dark blue eyes are holding you frozen. You see his smile falter when he realizes it’s you. His face drains.
“I never knew you liked Elvis.”
He crosses his arms, giving you a shocked face. You shrug your shoulders.
“You never asked, Henry.”
He nodded, his eyes falling to his feet thinking for a second before he looked back up. Excitement etched into his face.
“Say, why don’t I take you out tonight. We can go back to my house, get fat off some candy, and watch old cartoons after the show?”
You give him a sheepish smile, patting him softly on the shoulder. His eyes light up at you touching him. You almost feel bad for letting him down.
“How about a different night?”
His face falls and he nods.
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
He sniffles as tears well up in his eyes.
“Jus’ miss you is all.”
You blink a few times, trying to regain your mind. You hear women gossiping about you behind you.
“I know, I’ll see you around though.”
He wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands, his eyes lingering on you far longer than they should’ve.
The church pews were gone so the floor was open. There were people stuffed into corners and billowed out the doors in lines. As you made your way in you were hit with overwhelming heat from all of the energies combining together. Your wool jacket almost made you sweat.
You weaved your way through the back, getting glares shot at you. Rubbing arms with others as you went behind the curtains down the hall to the familiar door where you and Eileen hid during Sunday mass for free food. Relieved to find that no one was in the back it made it easy. Everyone was too focused on the front. You positioned the plastic bowl on your hip and knocked three times.
You stood there looking back and forth to make sure that your coast was clear and it was. Your stomach aches with a tight squeeze. Menstrual cramps settling in. You wonder for a moment if Elvis would still fuck you if you bled. The thought made you nervous, and the fur of your jacket dampened. Goddammit, Eileen, where were you?
You raise your fist to knock again before you hear a muffled voice.
“Password?”
You roll your eyes popping your hip out that has the tub on it.
“Eileen I don’t have time for this.”
Pleading doesn’t help.
“Whose Eileen? Only a witch burns here.”
After thinking carefully about what the password could be, it finally dawns on you. Witch. Eileen and her play on words are going to be the death of you. She was a highly intelligent individual, which was one of the reasons that drew you to her.
“Salem, final answer.”
Groaning the answer, she smirked behind the door.
“What year?”
Pushing your sweaty forehead against the wooden door, you shut your eyes tight. A sinner sweating in church—how comical.
“1692 through 3, let me in. I don't have time for this; he can be here any minute!”
You take your head off the door once you feel the momentum shift, and it reveals Eileen. A petite, long-haired woman whose face was practically bone, with striking green eyes, beams at you. Mouth stuffed with cheap saltine crackers—you don’t know how she enjoys those things.
“You know there’s a feast outside.”
Remarking on how strange it was that she’d rather eat cheap crackers than a home-cooked meal. She chews slowly, the tub of crackers in one hand as you walk into the small closet. Kicking the door behind you closed with the heel of your boot. A light bulb dangles in the middle, illuminating the room. Bibles and crosses line the shelves. Your skin erupts with goose flesh. The smaller woman shrugs.
“Half of the stuff out there will poison me, I know those old bats target us.”
She smiles softly, her voice muffled as she finally swallows.
“Like you with your own poison.”
She wiggles her eyebrows and smiles as you grow flustered.
“Be more quiet, Eileen! It’s like you want us to get caught!”
Scoffing, you turn around, reaching high up, and place the tub on one of the shelves next to a bible. You discard your coat over the top of the plastic. Turning back around, you watch her stuff more crackers into her mouth. Half the tub is gone.
“Do you think it will actually work this time? I mean, not like what happened with Henry; he’s a wreck out there.”
Sighing at the end of your sentence. You wanted Elvis to be in love with you; sure, so did every woman and girl in the world, but you didn’t want him to be devastatingly obsessed with you. Eileen shakes her head. For the first time in minutes, she puts the jar on one of the shelves and swallows thickly.
“Honey I watched you practice; I even asked the superiors what they thought, and they even encouraged your attempt. Yes, y/n I think you’ll be fine.”
“Promise?”
She sticks out her pinky, and you wrap yours around it. There’s a screech of feedback into a microphone and a roll of thunder as it begins to pour rain.
“As you may know, my name is Elvis Presley.”
Big, heavy policemen were situated in the front and center of the stage, holding women who threw themselves at Elvis, back into the crowd. He was only a couple of feet above the regular ground. A few managed to slip through and got to Elvis. He’d laugh and shake it off, singing the rest of Hound Dog. As the men got distracted, you and Eileen held hands and tucked yourselves by the front left of the stage. Some girls shot you dirty looks, but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t already seen before. The people in the room were stuffed so tight that you couldn’t stand still without touching elbows with someone.
He shifted his hips back and forth, his black trousers hanging loosely on his skinny hips. His orange shirt clung to his sweaty skin, and the dark brown wool jacket did him no favors. His black hair was slicked back so much that you could see the globs of gel. He’s struggling with the cord of the microphone, moving around so much that it keeps getting tangled. Throwing his head back and standing on his tiptoes, he takes off his jacket, and the girls scream at the action. One of them manages to grab the sleeve and drag it off the stage, and a couple of them fight over it. He restrains himself from laughing hysterically. His leg starts jumping. His eyes run over the vast group, and they fall on you. Eileen squeezes your hand, smiling at you. His eyes linger on you as he sings, then he looks away, breaking your spell, and walks to the other side of the stage. It wasn’t more than a second but it felt like hours.
Thunder booms throughout the sky, and the lightning makes the artwork on the windows glimmer. The storm outside grows. The song finally ends and he’s a huffing mess. He sips on the glass of water by the rest of his band. He sets the glass back down on a stool and stands in the middle again in front of the microphone.
“Never been much of a Halloween guy, but y’all are makin’ me change my mind.”
He swallows, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. His voice is quieter with the crowd roaring.
“What am I goin' to do with all you women?”
He licks his lips, his fat bottom lip tucked between his front teeth as he revels in the roar.
“Huh?”
Egging them on, you just watch amazed- speechless at how he has a hundred people at his will. Similar to how Jesus willed people together.
He cups the microphone in his big hand and drags the stand with him as he walks to the side of the stage, farthest away from you. The girls claw at him over the policeman's shoulders. He crouches down on his knees.
“Shouldn't ask this in a holy house, but I'm sure God will forgive me for it,”
“What d’ya want me to do to you after the show?”
He pushes the mic over to a young girl no older than sixteen in a white dress. She's a mess.
“I-i can't say that!”
She shrieks and it makes him smile, shaking his head. He stands and takes away the mic.
“Y’all got some dirty minds.”
He walks to the middle of the stage leaning over to a girl whose face is red and she's hyperventilating. Her big eyes almost came out of her head as she stared at Elvis. She almost weeps as he asks her the same question. She's paralyzed and can't speak.
“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”
He smiles wide, amused by his joke.
“Or do I?”
You watch as she turns white as a ghost, her body falls lump and the girls behind her hold her up. She fainted from just talking to him. It's a hassle for everyone to part and an officer to lift her up and escort her out. Elvis shakes his head again before moving over to the side you were on. You stare at his creased leather shoes. They're polished but the creases make white lines across them. The laces aren't matched on both of them either.
“Gon’ do one more ‘fore I gotta start doin’ my job again.”
A few boos were shouted. The others screamed suggestions for him to play. He smiles before crouching to you. A cop in front is sandwiched between you two. You can see the sweat beaded on his forehead and trickle down the base of his throat. The lightning struck and a few girls jumped but you were too enchanted with his eyes. A shade of blue you’ve never seen before. It’s a staring contest between you both. Testing to see whose will is strongest. His eyes held the fire burning in your stomach. He made the fever boil your skin. He made you undeniably horny. The longer you stare the more time you commit his gaze to memory. His plush lips part and he asks the question.
The room is hot as hell itself. You can’t hear from the storm and the women, but the metal mic is placed in front of you. His hand is mere inches from your face, he has a couple gold rings on his fingers. You want to taste the sweat. Suck on those long digits until the diamonds weigh heavy on your tongue. Without hesitation, you speak into the microphone proudly. Staring him straight in his eyes.
“I want you to fuck me after the show.”
The room goes quiet. The heavy pattering of rain is the only thing heard. Gasps spread throughout the small chapel. A few applauded your bravery for saying what they wanted to say but couldn’t. His dark blue eyes with dark lashes go wide. Blinking profusely at what your voice told him. You just a little nungen wanted to fuck him. Shocked to find that a little girl had thoughts of a grown woman. His mouth is parted as he breathes heavily, removing the microphone from you back to the front of the stage. He just stares at you enamored. For the first time in years since he started performing he’s speechless. That bold dominant act of a man is gone and replaced by a blushing boy.
He regains himself with his deep chuckle, which brings your thighs to dampen with slickness. You shift your thighs together to satiate the pulse of your throbbing clit. Eileen beams up at you like a child given a bag of candy. She doesn't need to say that you did it and that your plan is working, you know it.
He leans between the cop, close to your face to where you can smell his breath. Peppermint and cola.
“Meet me in the back, and I’ll make it happen.”
He finishes the show as a heaping puddle in the middle of the stage. The last song was Crying in the Chapel which you deemed the utmost respect. The cops start to push people out of the chapel, and the doors opening makes the sound of rain louder along with the raging whip of the wind. Most people dashed out to their cars, and others had to wait beside a designated corner to be picked up. Eileen squeezes your hand once more. Leaning her lips to your ear she whispers.
“Make sure he eats at least a crumb.”
She presses a quick kiss to your cheek before she leaves. The curtains had closed around the stage so you couldn’t see Elvis but you knew the only way out was the side of the stage where you stood. A few lingered and watched as he left, giving a sheepish wave. You absentmindedly tried to walk straight past the cops but their arms struck out and hit you in your stomach pulling you back. Confusion writes across your face.
“I need to go back there.”
The cop smiles and laughs.
“Yeah, you and every girl in here.”
You shake your head.
“You don’t get it Elvis gave me permission to meet him back there.”
He gives you an incredulous look not believing you. You rub your temples and sigh, becoming frustrated before you have to pull out the card you dreaded most.
“Listen, I know the governor and he trusts me enough to be back there. I have my jacket and a pie I made for the banquet in the storage closet. I just need to go back there and get it, that's all. I’ll come right back and it won’t be more than a minute.”
It’s quiet and you’re not sure if your half-true story would work. You’re more worried that he’s left already and thinking that you stood him up. Finally, the cop shrugs and shifts horizontally to allow you to pass as you do you smile. He grabs your arm before you can get too far.
“No more than three minutes.”
“Yessir.”
He lets go and you continue to walk to the door that Elvis had walked behind. You’re not sure where you’ll find him. There are only three different rooms in the little hallway, one of them is a unisex bathroom, the other is the pastor's office and the other is the storage room. Some of Elvis’s band walks past you talking about what they're going to do after the show. They don’t even care that you’re around them as they shuffle out the back door at the end of the hall. You go to the closet and open the door not expecting to find the man of the hour there. Your stomach drops and your body burns with goosebumps. Cheeks heating up flustered.
Absolutely floored. He’s eating the pie. The lid is discarded by your jacket. He’s sitting on the edge of a square table, Eileen’s cracker tub empty by him. He takes his thick index with a chunky golden ring and swipes it through the last syrup and crumb of the pie. His legs are spread out wide, and the black slacks cover his wide thighs. He sticks the pad of his finger between his plump lips and his cheeks hollow out. He places the tub by the crackers and leans his head back. He closed his eyes and groaned deep in his throat.
You can’t even begin to fathom what’s happening. You don’t know why he would choose your food in the back. How he chose the closet rather than the pastor's office. Why did he eat the pie when there’s a feast outside but then the realization hits. None of the visitors brought food and only the residents brought some so the visitors ate all the food outside waiting so he had none. From the mere viewing of watching him eat, he was ravenous. Dread fills you as you realize he’s eaten the entire goddamn thing. Realizing someone was in the room with him he stared at you, his eyes half closed as his gaze ran over you. He licks his lips and wipers his hand on the top of his trousers. He leans back, putting his hands behind him.
“Did you make this?”
His voice is hoarse and a deep gravel within his chest. Blood rushes to your cheeks. Could he tell that you were that inconspicuous? That he could taste the pollen? No. He couldn’t, could he? You nod, incapable of speaking. Your throat is dry from anxiety.
“It’s really good. Should be a baker or somethin’”
He breathes heavily, his cheeks and neck a bit pink. His face is still glossed with sweat.
“I wanna know what you cooked in it. Jus’ something I ain’t ever tasted before.”
Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You’ve stood in the same spot in front of the closed door.
“It’s a secret. An old recipe that uses natural oils.”
You hoped and prayed that your answer wasn’t as suspicious as it seems. He nods his head before standing.
“‘M sorry for eatin’ all of it. Didn’ mean to, I just burn through so much energy out there. Can’t help myself.”
You smile shakily.
“Oh.”
He scratches the back of his neck, grinning. His face is becoming more red with the blush creeping up his neck. He stands in the middle of the room only a few feet away.
“Which led me to eatin’ your pie. Hope you’re not angry or nothin’”
You shake your head, wringing your hands anxiously. You can’t look at him so you look at his shoes. His smell has taken over the room. Your hormones being amplified because of your period makes his scent intoxicating. From the way he’s acting it seems like how you smell is making him antsy too. He’s tapping his foot.
“Made it for you.”
As soon as you mutter the end of your sentence he walks to you. He reaches out and takes one of your hands and it makes your heart stop. You look up at him with wide eyes. The height difference makes him overlook you, he cranes his head down peering at you. Your knees go weak looking in his eyes. He smiles wide, pearly teeth and squeezes your hand. Your back is up against the wooden door as he holds you against it with his waist. His torso pressed firmly against yours. You can feel him. Feel how solid his cock is.
“You did? I appreciate that honey.”
You wish he would kiss you, touch you more but he doesn’t. He just holds your hand, his grip makes the metal of his rings pinch your hand. You watch his mood shift in his eyes to a much darker tone. You can see the sweat bead and fall down his sculpted face. Feel the heat radiate off of his vast body.
“Pretty little thing.”
His voice has dropped an octave lower and it’s nothing more than a mumble but you hear it. Before he leans in there’s a banging by your head. It slams three times over.
“Ready to go!”
His touch leaves and your heart aches. A sheen of sadness wedges it into his eyes. He realizes that this might be the last time he sees you before he leaves for Memphis.
“Gimme your address.”
He pushes out hurriedly. It’s not a question, it's a demand. You start stuttering an unfamiliar speech impediment summoning.
“I-I don’t have anything to write on or with.”
He nods solemnly but he doesn’t take no as an answer. He removes himself from you entirely and scavenges throughout the small room. He finally grabs one of the Bibles and a pen tucked inside the book. He hands both of them to you and you take them. As you open the front page you write your address and name on the front cover. It’s strange since it’s like giving him your autograph. As you write your address he’s hovering over you watching you etch your way into his heart. The man on the other side pounds on the door once more.
“There’s a cop out here asking ‘bout some girl. You gotta open up!”
Elvis’s hand softly graces your shoulder, urging you to finish.
“Just give me a damn second!”
He bites back through gritted teeth. You jump at his sudden outburst. Finishing suddenly with a period. He smiles hugely seeing you done. He kisses your cheek and you’re stunned at the softness of his lips against your skin. You give him the book and turn around to watch him leave. As he touches the door handle he pivots.
“I want to know your name.”
You’re taken aback not understanding why, but you say it nonetheless. He nods his head, saying it to himself, committing it to memory.
“I like that name, it suits you.”
Warmth spreads over you at his compliment. You stare at his broad back as he opens the door and leaves. You listen to the rain, as the familiar cop is stunned to see Elvis so close. Before he walks into the small room watching you melt.
“I told you three minutes.”
“I know, he just took longer than I expected.”
Sitting quietly in the back of one of the officers' cars. After the rendezvous with Elvis, you watched as the cops took people who lived in town back home. Serving as a transportation hub. You waited for your turn. The cop didn’t say a lot during the ride, only a few questions about where you lived and about Elvis. You shivered every time you talked about the musician. Not only was it freezing in the car, but your furry coat couldn’t keep up. But you were riddled with the fact that he had eaten the entire pie. You traced your fingers over the plastic tub in your lap. Not only did he do that, he has your address. Will he visit you tonight? Will he visit you at all?
It’s dark outside as you pass through streetlights. Your stomach twists and fills with butterflies as you think about him being in your home. Something that you imagined for so long is now coming true.
“Is this it up here?”
The cop asks and you nod, he parks and watches you walk up the sidewalk and into your house before he leaves.
The rain manages to soak you for the few minutes you walk in it. Your house is grim when you enter. Dark and cold. You take off your jacket and place it and the tub on the island in the kitchen. Opening the drawer below the sink you take a box of matches and light the candles you had scattered around the house. The soft glow allowed warmth to spread. The smell of pumpkins started to flourish throughout your home.
Turning on your little box television to a random black and white cartoon. The last thing you decided to do to get settled in was to play a record. Your collection has grown over the past few years. You had more Elvis albums than any other musicians. Making a vital point to buy one whenever a movie of his would come out or a listening party would be announced. Making Eileen drive you to the nearest record store since the one in town wouldn’t have it until a week later. You’ve arranged his albums to be the ones in the front. Knowing that you were more likely to play those than any other. The record player itself sat between the columns. You touched the covers as you shuffled through. Deciding to put loving you on since it was fairly new.
You start to sway your hips to the first song that plays. Slipping off your boots and socks you walk to the back of the house where your bedroom was. You unbuttoned the oval buttons on your dress and folded it onto your dresser. Left in the long sleeve and little cotton panties. You opened the drawers, mumbling the words to yourself as you listened to Elvis’s singing. You grabbed a new pair of panties and a nightgown. Shedding the rest of your clothes you take the new ones with you into your small bathroom and draw a bath.
The hot water fills the tub and the room becomes a sauna, you place the clothes on your sink and grab the towel from the cupboard. You stare at your naked body in the mirror. Your body is already damp from the rainwater and the condensation that fills the air. Your nipples are already hard from thinking about him. God did the pollen work on you instead of him? You run your hands over your sides, up from your hips to the swell of your breasts. Imagining his hands instead. His song plays as you sway to his voice. Talk to me like that. Sing to me. Tell me you love me. It thunders outside and lightning flashes through the window above your bathtub.
You sigh, skin flushed from the heat. You step your foot into the hot water and turn off the faucet. Slipping deeper into the water. Completely relaxing into the oasis. You wonder what his lips will feel like on your own. What his mouth will feel like between your legs. Would he care about the taste of blood on his tongue? You close your eyes and dream. Surely you won’t have to dream any longer. You reach up, and the droplets of water run down your chest. Taking a tiny jar of essential oils you let it drip onto your neck and spread down. Cleansing and releasing your energy. You put the jar back where you got it from and lounged in the alluring water.
What if it didn't work? You ask yourself as insecurity wedges itself into your thoughts. He seemed awfully engaged in you at the chapel, but what if that's as far as it'll go? Your heart aches at the thought you did all of it for nothing. Maybe you should've learned from what happened to Henry and cut your ties. You don't hear the knock on your door, because the record is too loud. You think about how fitting it is that lonesome cowboy plays.
You hear the incessant pounding on your door like one of those cheesy horror movies where the victim runs to the house to escape the villain. You thought it would go away but it doesn't, it just gets louder. You groan, opening your eyes to stare at the white tiled wall.
“Just a second!”
You yell out and you blush as you remember him yelling that out earlier just to have a little more time with you. There's a dreadful ache between your legs as you dry off with the towel. You need something to fill the emptiness, that void that's growing oh so apparent. You need him.
You don’t drain the tub, as you put on your panties. Not caring if you bleed into them, Eileen knows a remedy to get the stains out anyway. The nightgown is dark red with the lace around your tits and thighs black. You smile as you remind yourself of a skimpier Betty Boop. You can't answer the door looking so promiscuous so you throw the fluffy bathrobe over it. The banging on your door grows, along with Elvis's slow love ballads.
Opening the door you're instantly hit with a massive gust of wind and emotions. It's him. He looks like a kicked puppy. He's sopping wet with water. His orange shirt is now a dark brown. His hair is messy and scattered along his face. His once dark blue eyes are now pale gray. He's heaving for air. As you stare longer you realize he didn't drive a car. He ran here with the Bible you wrote in his hand.
“Elvis! I-what're you doing here? Why are you in the rain?”
Your brain runs too fast for you to comprehend his presence. The faint glow of your candles from inside is the only light shining onto his face.
“Had to see you. Ever since the show, I can't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I've never felt like this before.”
His voice is sheepish like he’s afraid to admit what he just said. As he looks at you he’s almost brought to tears by how pretty you look. If you don’t let him in he’ll sit right down on your porch in front of your door and wait until you do.
“I mean come in, you’re going to catch a cold standing out there!”
You grab onto his forearm and pull him in, opening the door wider for him. He winced at your touch. It’s too much for him, he’s too sensitive. You shut the door behind him and he stands in front of it like a statue. He sets the Bible down on top of one of his records, he smiles. He stares down at the floor, he can’t look at you. You wring your hands nervously. He’s not the same man you saw at the chapel, he’s softer, fragile.
“Let me get you some clothes, and warm up the bath. I’ll be right back hon don’t go anywhere.”
You turn to leave and he catches your hand. His eyes are glassy and his lips pout. His hand is strikingly cold, and his eyebrows are furrowed.
“Can I go with you? I don't want to be alone again.”
You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating how you are going to fix him. God the pie worked. It worked too well. You nodded your head. You were going to have to call Eileen for her help, you can't have a human puppy always following you, especially since it was Elvis.
“Why don't we start by taking off your shoes and socks, yeah? Don't want you to leave a trail behind you.”
He nods, he's already made a puddle by your door from just standing there.
“Yes, mama.”
Your heart pounds in your chest. For some reason, your body burns alight at the name. He’s bent down and untying his shoes.
“What did you call me?”
You ask softly, not believing your ears.
“Mama, I hope that’s fine I just I lov-,”
He stops himself and chews on his bottom lip cursing himself for slipping up.
“I just like ya so much that I wanna call you mama..you make me feel so different, so-so special like my own mama does and I just- I can’t help calling you it.”
He’s rambling now, trying to justify the newfound feelings he’s having. Feelings that are too big for him to have. Too potent and unfamiliar. He’s had girlfriends that he’s loved, sure, but never so much so as he does about you right now.
He finally slips off his shoes and socks and stands upright. He trails behind you as you walk back into your room. He’s mesmerized by all your decor and art. The makeup scattered on your vanity. The frame of your bed. Your clothes. The smell of your perfume. Everything you like, he loves. He keeps asking you questions about your interests and the various cult things you have strewn about. You answer every question given honestly. It’s the least you can do. You didn’t realize how difficult it was to find clothes in your own wardrobe to fit him. The record finally stops and scratches on repeat.
You hand him a baggy white shirt and some checkered boxers he can change into. You show him the bathroom, and as you enter he’s only seconds away from following. You sit on the edge of the tub, sticking your hand into the water to see if it’s cool enough. You turn on the faucet to warm it. As you wait, he sits on the toilet by you. He stretches his long legs out as he watches you. He takes off his rings and places them on the sink with the clothes you gave him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as pretty as you.”
He mumbles and it makes you blush. He thinks you’re pretty. Not only that but he thinks you’re incomparable.
“You don’t mean that.”
You shake your head, as you reply he finishes taking off his rings, and one of his hands cups your jaw. Making you look him dead in his uncanny eyes.
“What’s there not to like mama? I like everything ‘bout you and I don’t like it when you don’t see what I see,”
He runs his thumb over your chin.
“It ain’t right thinkin’ that you ain’t pretty.”
You nod. He shakes his head.
“Say it.”
“I’m pretty.”
He smiles, but it’s cold. There’s no mirth behind it. The water is finally hot enough for him to get in.
“It’s ready.”
He nods and removes his touch from you. You go to stand and he holds onto your hand. Giving you puppy eyes.
“Don’t want you to leave.”
You didn’t feel right leaving him, but you also desperately needed to call Eileen and ask her how to make him human again. You chew on your bottom lip, wondering what the right thing is. Finally, you smile at him.
“I’ll be right outside by the door. I just have to call a friend and ask her when the storm should pass.”
His eyes linger on you and he finally lets go.
“Alright, don’t go too far mama I’ll miss you.”
You give him a soft smile and walk outside the door, closing it behind you. Walking back to the front of the house you stopped the record from scratching again. Putting the plastic back into its sleeve and by the Bible.
The old rotary phone stuck to the wall is right next to the door and the player. You hear him take off his clothes, the wet smack of them hitting the floor makes your thighs burn. You dial Eileen’s number, cradling the phone to your face. She needs to pick up, if she doesn’t you’re not sure what you’ll do. The line is dead until she finally picks up.
“You’re going to have to hurry, I'm with Jim.”
Eileen says hurriedly. Jim was her latest fling and the superior in the cult. You sigh in relief at her static voice. You curl the cord around your finger as you think.
“Elvis is here. In my house.”
“That’s good!”
Eileen says ecstatically.
“No, not good. It’s Henry level bad again.”
“Oh.”
She whispers into the phone, her mood instantly changing.
“How much did he eat?”
You rub your temples as the memory of him in the chapel comes back.
“The whole thing.”
She whistles low. Your anxiety grows as the morbid thoughts come into play.
“Well, you’re not going to like how to reverse it.”
You’re happy to know that you can even reverse it.
“Really, how?”
“Mama..”
Elvis whines loudly. It’s a high-pitched whine. You listen and hear the water splashing around.
“Jim told me how to reverse it, and Elvis is going to need to taste your blood.”
“My blood!”
You shriek at the incredulity of this all.
“How am I supposed to get him to taste my blood?!”
Eileen is quiet on the other side of the phone for a few seconds.
“Are you on your period?”
You're taken aback as to why the question matters. And then it hits you. He has to eat you out. A shiver runs up your spine.
“Mama..”
Elvis whines out again.
“Yes, why?”
You can hear Eileen talk to Jim before she's rushed to hang up.
“It's going to help you out, trust me. Oh! And before I forget he's going to have to taste his semen and your blood together. It's a love spell after all and lovemaking is the best solution to get it out of him. Bye, y/n!”
The line goes dead after, and your mouth falls open in shock. Not only were you going to have to make him sleep with you, but you were going to have to make him eat you out after. You placed your head on the wall, putting the phone back into the case. Listening to the wailing man in the bathtub moan out Mama for the third time.
It was strange seeing him in normal clothes. They were all too big for him, so they hung loosely on his body. He nursed a glass of warm milk to sip on as he sat beside you and watched the old black-and-white movie play. His gold rings gleamed brighter with the candles. Your couch could only seat three people, and he chose to sit in the middle, closest to you. His arm stretched out behind you. A quilt was shared between you both. He smelled like you. It finally felt like things had died down and simmered. It felt like when a teen girl had a boy over at her parent's house just to watch movies. You couldn't help yourself from going over what Eileen had said. Make him fuck you and eat you out after.
You've only spoken to him briefly since he got out of the bath. He only asked for a warm glass of milk, and the rest was quiet. There's a sensual scene playing on the TV. A woman is arching her back as the man thrusts into her, it looks as if it was made in the ‘30s.
You feel the soft brush of his lips against your ear as he whispers.
“I think I could do that to you better than he can.”
Finally, after everything, you let go and surrender yourself to him. Not caring for the consequences, just relishing the moment. You crane your neck to the side, looking at him. His eyes are glossed over and his pale blues trail over your face. The tip of his nose is mere inches from your cheek. His middle finger swirls over the top of the glass. His lips are damp from the milk. His eyes burn into your stomach, directly into your womb.
“You think so?”
You ask and he nods, his voice dropping, and he takes a sip from his glass. His Adam's apple bobbles as he swallows.
“I know so.”
He leans forward, placing the glass on your coffee table, and sits back, spreading his legs out wide so his knee touches yours. When you look at him, you can’t resist; you take the blanket off of his lap and yours. You swing a leg over his lap and sit down on his broad thighs. He looks up at you as you lean down. His hands squeeze the sides of your thighs, and his rings are cold on your legs. Your robe is parting so he can see your cleavage, and his eyes flick from your tits back to your eyes. The woman moans in the program. You can feel how solid his cock is—warm, hard, and right between your weeping legs. His lips are parted, and his hot breath fans across your cheeks.
“Can I suck on them, mama?”
He whispers to you. You nod, shifting back so you’re sitting down fully, face to-face with him. Your robe and night dress are riding up your thighs. Taking the sash in your hand, you slip it through the rest of the robe. The sides fall open, you shimmy it off, and it falls onto your floor with a soft thud. Your nipples are already pebbled; the nightdress didn’t leave much to the imagination. He stares at the peaks. His hands leave your thighs, and they shake as they hover over your tits. You’d be shocked if he was a virgin from his rampant lifestyle, but now it looks like he’s never even touched a woman. He can’t touch you; he’ll burn. You perched on his lap, which is enough for the blood to rush to his lower abdomen. In all honesty, he’s not sure if he’s ever felt this hard- not since he first hit puberty.
He feels your tiny hands touch his big ones and place them on your tits. He doesn’t grope; he just holds them there. The warmth in his palms makes the buds perk up even more.
“Oh.”
He mutters. You wiggle your hips on his length, and his head hits the back of the couch. His eyes roll back. He slips the bands of your dress off, and the garment pools around your hips. The bareness of your body makes you shiver. He pauses, admiring from afar. He likes the swell, the curve, and the color. He likes all of it. All of you. He cups the sides of your chest, pushing them together and watching them fall. You’re too sensitive for his bemusement.
“Elvis, please..”
You urge him by pushing his hands firmly onto both of your tits. He nods, and a hand drops onto your lower back, leading you closer to him. Your stomach pressed against his. He takes one of your breasts, his mouth parting as he licks over your nipple. You arch your back to his face like the actress did on the screen. He takes the rest of it into his mouth. The wet softness of his tongue sends a wrath of fluttering to your cunt. Your hands squeeze his shoulders as his teeth graze the sensitive nerves. He gropes your hips with his free hand, encouraging you to grind against him. His eyes are closed, and his grip on your waist is going to leave a bruise. His rings bite into your skin. He nibbles on your nipple; it makes you jump and moan out his name, long and slow.
His hips jut up into your pussy, making you bounce when you come down. You feel dampness seep onto the lips of your cunt. He hits his head back onto the couch. He moans deep in his chest. He’s panting.
“Did you-?”
You ask quietly, not trying to upset him, and he nods.
“Yeah, I think so.”
He admits it absentmindedly. You smile softly, and before getting up, you press a quick kiss on his temple. It’s sweaty, but you can’t care. He watches you like a wolf as the dress falls off of you and down on the floor over your robe, leaving you in your little panties that have a dark patch under them. He adores how you look in the soft light of the candles and the TV static. The rain pours on. He lifts his hips up, slipping the boxers down his long legs. His cock springs up between his legs. Your expectations were exceeded. He’s uncut, thicker than you imagined, and what he lacks in length he makes up for with girth. The head is a ruddy color, and purple veins pulse along the side. It’s painful how hard he is—pins and needles shooting at his nerves. Even if he just came, he’s still rock solid. Cum is dripping out of his slit and down his length. Pooling at his balls.
Yours–his shirt, hangs over his taut stomach, touching the base. He crosses his arms and lifts the shirt over his head, leaving him bare on your couch. There’s a mountain of clothes on the floor, along with the blanket. The sight you imagined for so long made your clit throb. His legs spread out, his heavy dick in the middle of his thick thighs, and his arms spread out along the edge of the couch. His inky hair scattered messily along his face. But most of all, the way he looks at you, hungrily as a man starved.
You tuck your fingers under the band of your panties and take them off. His cock twitches at seeing you bare, he wets his lips.
“Can I make love with you mama?”
You smile sheepishly as you walk over to him. Sitting beside him, you cup his face. Scratching softly at his cheeks.
“Of course.”
You press your lips to his and it feels like fireworks burst within your soul. Getting a kiss from Elvis was a milestone in your book. His lips were soft, and his tongue tasted like milk. He was slow at first, letting you be in control, but as your tiny hands wrap around his broad shoulders and pull at the hair at the base of his neck, he loses himself. He becomes hungry, pushing his fat tongue into your mouth. He grabs onto your hips, making you lay down on the couch. Your head is by the end table. He moans into your mouth when he feels your soft thighs around his skinny waist. The groan vibrates into your chest, making you squirm. His body feels like a sauna, making you sweat. His body is sticking to yours. He leans back, his knees touching your ass. He takes his cock into his hand, jerking himself off a few times. Not that he needs to, but so he can keep whatever composure he has left.
His lips finally leave yours, letting you both regain your breath. It’s only then, as he looks at your pussy, he realizes you're bleeding. An inexplicable wave washes over him. Adrenaline and hormones beat into his heart. He needs to fuck his kid into you. Needs to breed you and fill you up. A brutal,l primal hunger grows within him.
“I don’t think I can go slow.”
He admits it to you, and you can’t even answer before his tip works its way into your tight cunt. His mouth falls open, and you squeeze his shoulders. Blood mixed with your slick starts to coat his length. He doesn’t wait for you to relax around him, he pushes his way to his base in one swift thrust. Your head hits the table.
“Fuck!”
You yell at his roughness. He grabs at your hips, pulling back out. His eyes stare at where he enters you. He’s obsessed with the way your pussy clings to him. How tight you are when he fucks into you. His balls hit your ass as he thrusts into you. He watches your tits bounce. You’re already overstimulated from being on your period but the heavy weight of his cock, pounding into your cervix makes tears well up in your eyes. Strangely enough, you feel that familiar wave in your stomach begins to build.
“Gon” make you a real mama.”
His grip on your hips tightens, his rings burying into your flesh. The lamp on the end table starts to wobble every time he snaps his hips into yours.
“Gon’ breed you ‘til you can’t even walk no more.”
As you look into his eyes, you can’t find the sweet boy that once was there. He’s possessed by an animal. Hell-bent on making you his forever. His teeth are gritted as he continues his rampage. You weekly moan with every hit of his intrusion. You can’t help how badly your body craves this. The first time all night you finally felt content. He’s fucking the bad energy out of you, and what confuses you the most is how he’s doing that when he is the bad energy. His chest is glazed with sweat; he’s dripping on you. His lip curls up, and he takes his hand from your waist and puts it on top of your clit. The weight of it was enough to send you over the edge. Your body starts to shake, and your pussy tightens around him to the point where he can’t move.
“That’s it, mama.”
He swirls his thumb lazily on your clit, watching your body wither on him. His thighs are becoming soaked with your cum. He watches you relax, your back flat on the couch. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly.
“Are you done?”
You nod weakly.
“Good.”
He takes his thumb into his mouth and sucks on the blood that coats it. His eyes roll back into his skull as he starts his rhythm again. You can’t take his beating on your cunt, you plead with him to slow down but he doesn’t, he can’t. The loud slap of his body smacking into yours fills the air. Tears fall down your face as he goes as fast as he can. Your nails cling to his back. Clawing red stripes down it. He’s bound to be hurting in the morning, along with you.
After one of your nails makes his back start to welt with blood, he lays his hips against yours and releases. His cum hits right against your cervix, and you feel pleasantly full.
His balls draw up and then relax as he lets his load go in you. His grip softens into a caress. He doesn’t let his dick slip out of you as he lays down on top of you. His weight is pressing you deeper into the couch. The rain finally slows to a soft patter. It’s finally calm, and the tears on your cheeks are dry.
He’s drifting off to sleep, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. Cradling you to his chest. You run your fingers through his damp hair, watching the rest of the movie. It’s only when he whispers, I love you into your chest by your heart, that you realize that you forgot to break the spell. All you can wonder is how long his love will last.
#xreader#fanfic#smut#elvis presley#elvis presley x reader#elvis#elvis 2022#elvis presley x reader smut#elvis x reader#elvis presley smut#elvis smut#50s elvis#season of the witch#halloween#happy halloweeeeeeen#halloween smut
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#minecraft#michael jackson#marine life#ouat#cottage witch#halloween#Elvis Presley#the birdcage#keke palmer#4chan#mogai#pet#leighton meester#carrie fisher#reaper76
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Aphrodite's Curse
The last of this year's Elvis-o-ween one shots.....
A hastily written spooky smutfest that may be my worst writing yet?
Summary: Loosely based on Elvis' affair with Elisabeth Stefaniak, this one shot finds our boy during his Army service living in Bad Neuheim and playing the field, much to the chagrin of his shy, live-in secretary and girlfriend Bettina.
Warnings: MINORS DNI Sex stuff, infidelity, angsty angst, lots of typos and probably nonsensical sentences.
WC: 6.2 K
Thursday, September 9th, 1959
Goethestraße 14, Bad Nauheim, West Germany
Approximate 10:45 p.m.
Bettina watched from across the room as Elvis whispered a joke to the Australian girl sitting beside him on the piano bench. What was her name, Julie? Cynthia? Her shriek was so loud and jarring it made Bettina bite her lip, and she winced at the coppery taste on her tongue, mad at herself for being so jumpy. Elvis hit a minor key and lost his place in the song, which made him turn and yell at Charlie.
“Watch ya chords now, watch it Foggy Bottom Boy. Made me loose my place. Some times I think ya head got water logged crossin’ over.”
Elvis sighed, then went back to tinkering around on the keys, settling on singing the ballad “I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen” directly to Julia, whose giggles now filled the room. There were a handful of people over tonight, in addition to the Aussies that Lamar had brought home from the beer hall. No doubt he had hoped to get lucky with one of them, but both girls had been hovering around Elvis since they arrived, and Lamar had now plopped onto the couch with a pout. Bettina caught Rex looking over at her, and she rolled her eyes and tilted her head at Elvis, trying to get Rex to smile. Elvis had been singing this song all week. But there was more than just teasing camaraderie in Rex’s eyes. There was sympathy too in the way he narrowed his gaze at her. Bettina frowned and turned her eyes down to stare down at her shoes. She pulled on her necklace and crossed her arms around herself as tight as she could. You wished for this, you are living the dream, she told herself as she leaned further into the shadows.
Meeting Elvis last year had been her dream. Was it only a year ago? How had her life changed so completely in one year? She had left that shy, inexperienced eighteen year old girl who had spent her nights hoping to get Elvis’ autograph back in Graferwohr. The night Rex noticed her and took her to meet Elvis had been the happiest night of her life. Elvis had walked her home and kissed her good night against the tree in front of her apartment building. His lips had been so sweet, his hands so tender. They had lifted her off the ground and she was pretty sure she had just floated up to her bedroom knowing nothing in life would ever top this experience.
But then Elvis had shown up at her door, her door, again the next night and invited himself to dinner. He spent the week at their apartment, flirting with her mother, playing their piano and then kissing her good night when she walked him out. No, nothing could ever top this.
But then, as she braced herself to bid him farewell at the end of his training he invited her to come live with him in Bad Neuheim and be his secretary. You could have knocked her over with a feather. Because Bettina knew from the way he kissed her that he was not just asking her to be his secretary. She knew he was bringing her home to be his girlfriend, and make all her wishes come true.
If only she had been more specific and wished to be his only girlfriend.
Now here she was, spending her evenings unsure if Elvis would spend the night with her or another girl he met. The music stopped and Bettina glanced up to see Elvis whisper again to the girl sitting next to him. His hand caressed the girl’s shoulder and then she blushed and nodded. A minute later she stood and disappeared through the door on the other side of the living room toward the back staircase. He thinks he is being so clever, Bettina thought. In ten or fifteen minutes he’ll declare himself ready for bed and go join her. It was a performance Bettina knew all too well.
Elvis continued play songs on the piano, singing “I Asked the Lord” next and then a few other American pop songs. Charlie was harmonizing with Elvis, but now he, too, was shooting her a sorrowful look. Ugh. Bettina felt a prickle behind her eyes and had to blink back her tears. She wanted to recede through the wall.
But that is not how walls work. They do not just open up and transport you to a better place when you feel uncomfortable. Had she ever felt more alone than she did here in a room full of soldiers, wives, dates and random women who all ignored her ?
Thinking of this, Bettina sucked on the part of her lip that she had bitten and decided to flee to the kitchen. She grabbed a Fanta and the sweet, citrus drink stung her lip. But she kept gulping it down, forcing herself to drink it all. At least it got rid of the bitter taste of blood in her mouth.
The other Australian stumbled through the swinging door to the kitchen and dipped her head as she took a Dr. Pepper from the ice in the sink.
“Oh hiya. Gosh, our own private Elvie concert, eh? Must be sweet as honey working as Elvis Presley’s secretary, faffing around with him and this lot all the time.”
Bettina took another sip of her drink, looking the blonde up and down. “Ja, sweet as honey. It is, as they say, the most.”
“Yeah, s’what I thought, ol Elvie is so much more handsome in person, and so fun too. We’re all just mad for him back in ‘straya.”
“Hmmm, ja, he is so fun.”
Bettina smiled and nodded big before she excused herself and made her own way upstairs and then down the narrow hallway to her bedroom. She could hear Dodger snoring in the room next to her's. Stopping outside Elvis’ room, the faint sound of girlish giggles hummed through the door, followed by a loud THUMP on the bed. It made Bettina’s tummy drop, and she had to steady herself against the wall. She didn’t even brush her teeth, she want straight to bed. All she wanted was to slip under her covers and disappear into oblivion. The taste of orange Fanta was still on her lips, sweet and bitter.
It was before dawn when she heard the door to her room creak open. Half asleep, Bettina stirred and straightened her back as she felt someone climb into bed behind her. A tall, long lanky someone. She knew without looking it was Elvis. Still miffed, she kept her eyes closed and turned her head away as he pulled her into him.
“There she is, can’t sleep without ma little Fog Horn.” His breath was warm on her neck, and he nuzzled his chin into her shoulder. ”Ugh, honey, I’m plum tuckered out.” He leaned over her, giving her a final kiss on her ear before settling in with his arms around her.
When Bettina woke up she was in his arms and her head rested over his chest, her breath keeping time with each lift and fall of his body. His palm was flat against her back and she could feel his fingers trace circles slowly into the silk fabric of her night dress. The dim light of dawn shone in through the window, painting the room in a pinkish dreamy haze. She thought of all the things she wanted to tell him. How she could still smell a foreign perfume on his bare chest. Or ask him in a snarky tone what happened to his other friend. But then his mouth was crushing into the top of her forehead and each kiss reminded her that he was there, with her. Not anyone else. And the reassurance of his physical body, here and now, longing for her, made her heart swell with desire. His fingers stroked away all her hurt and jealous qualms like sunshine chasing away the clouds, and she was his completely once more.
Bettina tilted her head to meet his lips and he moaned into her mouth. “Aw Betty, this is always ma favorite part of the day.”
The smell of Elvis’ musky sweat and pomade filled Bettina’s nose when he shifted himself over her. His knees grazing hers as a goofy, bashful smile spread across his face. Below her waist his fingers pulled at the hem of her night dress.
“I mean it honey, s’only thing that gets me through the day.”
His eyes turned downward, and Bettina shivered with anticipation as he languidly rolled the beige silk fabric up her thigh, inch my inch, savoring the way he gasped out at the sight of her white panties. She lifted her hips to help him pull them off and sighed out when he slide his fingers between her legs. Then his breath was at her neck and he was nibbling her ear, all the while flicking his fingers back and forth over her sensitive nub.
“She’s such a pretty baby. Prettiest baby he ever found. He’s so lucky to find a lil angel like hers in Germany.”
Elvis awkwardly fumbled at his belt, shaking his head as he had to sit back to to get his pants off. Bettina rolled her teeth over her lip, feeling the sensitive spot where she had bit herself again. She was happiest right here, looking up at Elvis as he eagerly struggled to get his clothes off and make love to her. The warmth of the sheets enveloped her and she gave him a single nod of approval as he parted her legs. Her hands clutched his back, roving over his shoulder blades as he thrust gently into her. Moaning out, she focused on his eyes and how intent they were as she relaxed and opened herself to him. His lip hung open in apt concentration and she bucked into him as he steadily rocked back and forth.
An aching tingling pleasure coiled in her belly each time their hips met, and Elvis leaned down closer as he sunk further into her. Kissing her neck and whispering sweetly about how pretty she was, and how much she meant to him. He found the spot that made her cry out, and the metal frame of her bed began to bang lightly against the wall as he increased his rhythm. She could hold back no longer and moaned out as her orgasm burst through. Just then the door to Grandma's room slammed shut and Elvis quickly covered her mouth with his hands to muffle the sound of her cries as Dodger’s footsteps echoed through the hallway on the other side of the wall.
He shook his head, sssshing her with a michievous grin. Bettina made a face, as if to say she couldn’t help it and Elvis’s grin became a squeezed, pained expression. His movements become more erratic and he began to stutter before he pulled out and finished over her belly. Afterwards, he caught his breath and fell back into the pillows panting, drawing Bettina into him as the sweat cooled over their bodies and they heaved together. She leaned into his chest hair and whispered “Ich liebe dich,” and he stroked her head, mumbling “me too, baby, me too.”
At five a.m. he kissed her forehead and pulled on his pants, looking both ways out of her door before departing with a wink. Bettina waited until he showered and went downstairs before she got up to follow.
6 a.m. Friday, September 10th 1959
Goethestraße 14, Bad Nauheim, West Germany
Dodger was pouring another cup of coffee for her son and grandson when Bettina came into the dining room and blushed at the sight of Elvis’ grandmother.
Some nights he snuck into her room late at night, some nights he would whisper for her to see him in his bedroom. Either way, she was certain the old woman could hear the creak of the mattress from their late night and early morning activities. For that matter, Bettina guessed that Elvis’ father Vernon also knew how things were between his son and her. But whatever his thoughts on the matter were, Vernon kept them to himself.
Elvis stood to leave with a mouth still chewing bacon, egg and tomato sandwich. This did not stop him from kissing first Dodger and then Bettina on the cheek and wishing his babies a good day. Bettina downed a cup of coffee and helped Grandma clean up.
“God knows that youngun’ has the world on his shoulders. S’too much for one boy to bear. He is lucky to have a nice girl like you, Betty.”
Dodger looked her in the eye, before lifting up the loaf of cornbread that Vernon’s new girlfriend, Dee, had brought over. Dodger sniffed it with a tight grimace before tossing it in the trash.
“That Stanley woman has about as much business messing with corn bread as she does messing with my son.”
Bettina giggled, and the two woman made quick work of clearing up the kitchen together before Bettina went to work sorting through Elvis’ fan mail and sending back photographs that she signed for him.
It was a cheerful, fall day, and the house was in high spirits when Elvis came back for lunch to eat with Lamar and Cliff. It was only after Frau Pieper, the house keeper, brought Bettina the latest stack of mail that she felt her spirits waver again.
There on the top was a pink envelope addressed to Bettina. This was what Elvis told his girlfriends back in Memphis to do in order to make sure their correspondence didn’t get mixed up with the fan mail. Looking at the return address, this letter was from Anita Wood.
Frau Pieper muttered under her breath in German as she watched Bettina hesitate.
“Ack, you should be ashamed of yourself, cheapening your body for that American. You will never be anything more to him than a bed warmer.”
Bettina stared down at the wood floor, studying the grain and the scratches there.
“You are just jealous, Frau Pieper. I see the way you look at Elvis, how you hug him. You find him just as irresistible as I do.”
The housekeeper grinned. “If I were your age, I would be visiting Golde Wolff for a love spell.”
“Golde Wolff? A love spell?” Bettina turned back and arched her eyebrows, unsure she had heard Frau Pieper correctly.
“Ja, the old Jewish witch on Friedensstraße.”
Bettina rubbed her hands together. “I heard there were no Jews left in Bad Neuheim after -”
“Ja, Golde Wolff is the last Jew, she hid in a basement of one of the abandoned houses for ten years. They say she only came out during the darkest nights to forage for herbs and food.” Frau Pieper leaned in, whispering in a hushed tone. “The men who burned the synagogue and marched the Jews to the trains died tragically. All of them. At different times. She cursed them with her magical spells.”
“Hmmm, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
Frau Pieper put her hands in her apron and leveled Bettina with a look as sharp as a knife.
“I do. My sister took my niece Elfriede to Golde Wolff when no doctor could cure her fever. Today, Elfriede is married and lives a full life. If you want to fix that boy who treats you like a pig, go to Friedensstraße.”
Bettina laughed, and then grabbed Anita’s pink letter, as if to show Frau Pieper how aloof she was, how accommodating and at ease she could be knowing she was one of the many women in Elvis’ life. Frau Pieper was just another ignorant, superstitious small town old lady. Witches. Honestly. It was just how the old guard masked their prejudice to Jews today in 1959.
“It’s women like you who are holding this country back.” She muttered in English smiling all the while at the housekeeper, knowing she didn’t speak English.
But Frau Pieper’s words were harder to dispel and Bettina found they stayed with her through the day.
You will never be anything more to him than a bed warmer. The boy who treats you like a pig.
These words poked at her, digging deep into the recesses of her subconscious, the part of her that was not cool and aloof. The part of her that wanted more. That told her if she was just prettier, funnier, more charming Elvis would not want to be with other girls. And she could have him all to herself.
A darkness settled over Bettina’s mood. Not even the bright light of Elvis’ smile could fully put her at ease when he got home and squeezed her waist, teasing her with a mouth full of coconut cake. No, her mood only darkened as the night wore on, and it got harder to cover it with a forced smile after the two Australian girls returned and gleefully smiled when Elvis invited them both up to his room. He did not visit Bettina that night, and the next day she heard him bragging to Lamar and Cliff at lunch.
“Man oh man, ain’t nothin’ like a pack a wild Australian gals. Almost too much, jack. I’m tellin’ ya. Pounced on me like a couple a tigers. Grrrrr. Know what I mean? All I gotta say is, look out.” They laughed. “I don’t know bout all that, like my girls to act like girls, ya know? Them cats was too aggressive. Think I got some scratch marks.” This was followed by another round of sycophantic laughter, and a joke from Elvis about how Lamar likes his guys to act like girls.
It was all Bettina could do to keep her smile steady when she met Elvis in the hallway and accepted a farewell kiss on the cheek.
“There’s my gal.” His crooked smile melted her heart. “Why can’t every gal be like you, Betty? Ya just pretty and so sweet.”
That’s why you don’t need every girl, you just need me, she thought to her self.
It was not long after this that Bettina gathered her things and ventured out to find Friedensstraße.
It was not late, only half past three when Bettina got down to the town square. Yet for some reason it was already getting dark. The uneven cobblestones in the street rose to meet Bettina’s shoes as if they were trying to trip her, and she felt as if the town was progressively getting darker as she made her way through what must have been the old Jewish quarter. Bettina walked all the way down Friedensstraße, but there was no sign or business that looked like it belonged to a witch. She wasn’t sure what kind of store front a witch would have. She hadn’t wanted to give Frau Pieper the satisfaction of knowing she was taking the old women’s advice, and so had just gone to town hoping she would find it. It was only on her third trip sauntering back up Friedensstraße that she noticed the dark, narrow alley and the little flag sticking up from a basement several buildings down. Bettina’s heart beat faster as she stumbled toward the sign, finally able to read the tattered cloth in the dark depth of the alley: “Der Apotheker.”
The rail at the top of the stairs down to the basement door was wet, and Bettina gripped it tightly, unsure whether to go through with this visit. She didn’t believe in witches, she didn’t believe in magic. At the bottom of the stairs was a door painted black, and in the middle a faded yellow star. It almost looked as if a circle or marking had been drawn around it, and Bettina was just squinting to try and make it out when the door flew open and she felt the wind push her forward until she was stumping into a dimly lit parlor.
“Come here, mine kindela.”
A soft throaty voice called from the back of the room, where a short, stout older women stood. Her hair was cut in a short grey bob, and her dress was a smart mustard yellow floral print. The kind popular after the war had ended. A golden dragonfly pin lifted the hair off the right side of the women’s face, and adiamonds sparkled in the dragonfly's wings.
This was the old Jewish witch? She was trim and clean and friendly and could have been someone’s grandmother. Comparatively, Frau Pieper looked more like a fat old hag. But then Bettina noticed something eerie about the way Golde Wolff smiled at her
“I ve been waiting for you. Have a seat, have a seat.” Golde motioned to the chairs at a dark red table in the center of the room.
Bettina looked around as she sat, the walls of the basement were painted a dark, burgundy color. Underneath her was a Persian rug with navy, gold and burgundy detailed patterns swirling around. As Bettina tread over it she could almost swear the patterns were moving. Shelves lined the back half of the parlor, stacked with glass jars filled with plants and powders and god knows whatelse. A stained glass lamp decorated with dragonflies in the mosaic and around the metal base was the only light in the room, save for a candle burning in the middle of the table.
“I’m, I’m not really sure why I’m here.”
Golde sat down across from her, folding her hands on the table.
“You want a spell. A love spell, no?”
Bettina nodded, her mouth hung open.
“if I do this, you can never go back. There is no remedy. Do you really want to make someone love you?”
“I - he, uh. He already loves me. He tells me all the time. I just want, I want him to love only me.”
Golde nodded, petting the black cat who suddenly appeared and jumped up into her lap.
“Ah, yes, a spell to bring forth feelings that are already there. Focus them. Well, there will be a price.”
“Would I have to sacrifice something I want, like not being able to have children?”
“No, no. A cost, forty marks to be exact.”
"Oh, ha."
Bettina pulled out her wallet, that was half a week’s wages. She swallowed hard and handed over the money. Golde smiled and put out her hand.
“I need something of yours and something of his.”
Bettina pulled out the white, ivory bone comb she had found in Elvis’ room before she left, and then plucked a hair from her own head, placing the the black and brown strands into the witch’s palm.
Whack! The cat jumped on the table and began to rub against Bettina’s shoulder, purring.
“Wait here, Rumi will keep you company.”
And so Bettina scratched Rumi behind his ears and watched as the witch pulled out jars and poured ingredients into a mortar, grinding it up with a pestle. Twenty minutes later, Golde was pouring the mixture into a glass jar and handing the deep red candle to Bettina.
“You must say your intention out loud then light the candle immediately and let it burn over night. Put it somewhere well protected where the flame can burn strong, creating a robust foundation for your love. When the candle has burned out, your spell will be complete.”
Bettina lit the candle the minute she got back, and left it burning on top of her dresser far from the window or the door. She could tell the magic was working immediately. Elvis was sweet to her the whole night through, pulling her on to his lap as he cajoled Cliff to entertain them with some of his stories, and keeping her near him all evening. His hands were at her waist, caressing her back and forth with his thumbs, his knee between her legs, naughtily pushing up and down. And when it was time for bed, he put his hand around her shoulder and guided her upstairs in front of the other guests.
5 a.m. Saturday, September 12th , 1959
Goethestraße 14, Bad Nauheim, West Germany
At dawn he was furtively rubbing against her, half asleep with a full erection, and Bettina turned into him, bringing him between her legs for their morning love making ritual. She sighed as he pressed his dry lips to her neck, and peppered her clavicle with kisses as they banged the metal frame into the wall clumsily rocking and grunting into the day.
The candle had burned down to the bottom when Bettina checked it, and she smiled with satisfaction as she cleaned herself off and skipped down stairs to help Grandma with breakfast.
At midday she looked up from her work in the office to see Elvis jumping the high wooden fence that bordered the back yard and emerging at her window, smirking as he tapped her window. She opened it and laughed as he jumps through, helping to pull him in and then falling back against the desk.
“There is a door, you know, ja?”
Elvis’ lips curled into a wider grin and his hands held her tight. “This way was more fun. Better view.”
He waggled his eyebrows and kissed her lips, a glint in his eye.
“You are a naughty little boy.”
“Nah uh, ain’t true.” He mumbles, lifting her on to the desk and knocking over her carefully stacked piles of fan letters and autographs. “He’s a good little boy. He’s her good little boy.” Then before she knew it he was telling her to be quiet as he settled on his knees and removed her panties, and his head disappeared under her skirt. At first, his tongue tickled her, she had yet to feel totally at ease letting a man do this. But Elvis had been dutifully working all year to make Bettina comfortable being kissed between her legs. There. At her pleasure point. His voice hummed into her as he pulled her to the edge of the table. He lapped at her gently, moving his index finger into her, his tongue feathering over her at first, then gradually flicking her nub before kissing it again. Lingering, he now possessed her completely with his mouth. Bettina knocked over more stacks of mail as she tried and failed to to find the edge of the desk to hold something as her whole body began to vibrate and thrash with the overwhelming sensation of her second orgasm of the day. She was still heaving and shuddering from the aftershocks as Elvis wiped his face on her inner thighs and licked his lips, a devilish glint in his eye.
“Mhmmm mhmmm mhmm. Guess I had my dessert fore ma meal. S’what you do to me, Betty boo.”
Bettina stayed in the office over the lunch hour, trying to compose herself and smiling. The spell had worked. She could feel it.
The spell had clearly not worked. There was no other explanation, Bettina thought, as she stood in her usual perch at the edge of the living room and watched Elvis talk and flirt with Heli, one of the other pretty young German girls he was dating. Bettina thought of the intimate moments she had shared with Elvis just hours ao. This made her tummy do several more summersaults until she could no longer stand to watch them anymore. Instead, she calmly turned and fled to her office. Moments later the door handle turned, and she looked up with excitement, knowing Elvis must have been stymied by the spell and told Heli to get lost.
But it wasn’t Elvis.
“Please Rex, I’d like to just be alone, I - I have a headache.”
Rex inhaled, and instead of leaving, walked towards where she stood, looking out the window. He grabbed her wrist.
“I can’t bear to see him treat you like this, Betty. You’re so beautiful.”
“Rex stop - what are you doing? You shouldn’t be here. You know what he will do if he finds you talking to me like this.”
Rex stepped closer.
“I don’t care, I can’t stop thinking of you. I love you.”
Bettina blinked, and pulled her hand from his, looking around the room to get her bearing. She didn’t know what to do, so she slapped his face, then jumped back as if she had been the one struck. Rex floundered for something to say, but Bettina didn’t want to hear it and shuffled out as if the room was on fire, sequestering herself in her bedroom alone.
The sound of Elvis mattress bumping against the wall across the hallway drove a knife deeper and deeper into Bettina’s heart.
8 a.m. Sunday, September 13th , 1959
A dark alley off Friedensstraße, Bad Nauheim, West Germany
The air was chilly as Bettina made her way down the steps to Golde’s door, rapping against the black paint loudly until the witch finally opened up.
“Good morning, my child, it is early for —”
“Your spell didn’t work.”
Bettina pushed her small frame through the cracked door, eyeing Golde’s gold and burgundy robes as she entered the witch’s parlor.
“That is not possible.” Golde announced, closing the door behind her.
The smell of pinewood wafted through the room, and Bettina gazed into the flames of Golde’s fire, watching them dance as she warmed her hands.
“Well, this time it is. But that is ok, I no longer want him to love me.” She turned to the witch, fists clenched. “What is the price for you to curse him?”
Golde put her hand on Bettina’s shoulder, as Rumi slinked over, mewling at the witch’s feet. “My child, you are so quick and changeable. Yesterday a love spell, today a curse. I cannot in good conscience do this. You must be mistaken, my spells always work.”
“Yesterday, he made love to me in the morning and was in bed with another women by nightfall.”
Golde stroked her chin, and walked over to the table, motioning for Bettina to join her.
“And you are certain you brought me his hair?”
“Yes, I found that comb on the floor of his room.”
“You said he loved you already. So, the spell I made for you was one for a natural love, a spell to acquire his undivided devotion where love already existed. The only explanation is that you are wrong. He does not love you. He is just using you for his carnal pleasure.”
Bettina nodded. “Ja, he seems so earnest, so sincere. But you must be right. All the more reason I want to put a curse on him.”
“You are certain? Once done, it cannot be undone.”
Bettina folded her hands, looking down at where Rumi’s black tail now wound around her ankle.
“ I was a virgin a year ago, besotted with this man. He brought me to live and work with him, he lied, telling me he loved me. And now I am stuck working for him, in love with him, watching as he romances woman after woman in front of me, and then when he is bored, he comes back to me for comfort and companionship. I do not have the strength to leave him. If I cannot have him, I want him to feel the same way I do.”
“60 deustch marks.”
Bettina sucked in her breath. Then pulled out her wallet, 60 was all she had on her, it was the most money she had ever spent on anything in her adult life. Golde stood and rummaged around in her cabinet until she pulled out a black candle, while Rumi jumped up and made himself comfortable in Bettina’s lap.
“I do not need anything except his name. After I light the candle, we must hold hands and you will recite the fate you want to blight on this man. Understood?”
Bettina shivered as a cold wind blew through the parlor.
“Yes, I understand.”
“His name?”
“Elvis Presley.”
The witch raised her eyebrow, but lit the candle never the less. She took Bettina’s hands and began to mutter an incantation in a language Bettina did not understand. Maybe it was Hebrew, but she was not sure. Somewhere amidst the doleful recitation she heard the name Elvis Presley repeated a number of times. Then Golde stopped and raised her voice.
“Oh spirits, we beseech you, hear this poor girl’s plea.” She nodded at Bettina to continue.
“Curse him with unrequited love, may he fall in love with someone who is everything he despises, a succumbus starved for sex and male attention who wants only to use him for his fame and fortune. Whose faithfulness will match his own. Whose betrayal will make him want to die. “
WHACK!
The front door blew open, and the rushing sound of the wind filled the basement, knocking over the lamp and making Rumi run under the couch on the other side of the parlor, mewling louder and louder. Golde did not flinch, she only gripped Bettina’s hands tighter, calling out loudly.
“Here us, oh spirits, curse this Elvis Presley with the affliction of an unrequited love for a woman who embodies all that he despises, may she be the opposite of his ideal and break his heart. And when they meet he will only see her as a reflection of his ideal, his one true love, and by the time he realizes his mistake may it be too late.”
The blast of air circled them in a spiral that tangled their clothes and pulled up their hair, spinning and spinning around in a whirlwind until it blew out the candle’s flame. The front door thwacked shut. And Bettina fell back against the chair fatigued and almost unable to stand.
Somehow she summoned the strength to trudge back along the cobblestones to the house on Goethestraße. None of the guys were there when she returned, just Grandma Presley there to greet her with a pinched smile that made the old woman's cheeks cave in. Bettina thought about Mrs. Presley. Most days Grandma was her only companion. Guilt washed over her briefly for the cursing this kind women’s grandson. But then Bettina thought of Heli and the wound that still ached in her chest from hearing the sounds of their love making this morning. She thought of Julia and Cynthia. She thought of the countless times Elvis had asked her to accompany him on dates as his translator. She knew many of the women he had gone out with better than he did. And then to find that he did not even care for her? It was too much to bear. Exhausted from a hard morning of casting spells, Bettina made her way up stairs and lay down.
It was well past 7 o’clock at night when she woke up again, and she was surprised to see Rex on the floor of Elvis room as she walked past the door.
“What are you looking for?”
Rex stopped, and stood. “I haven’t been able to find my comb in days. It’s a nice, ivory number, I think Elvis and the boys took it as a prank, they were with me when I bought it in Paris.”
Bettina gasped. “No.” She faltered and fell back against the hallway. Her stomach dropped to the ground.
“What is it, my darling, are you ok? Even peaked, you are still the most beautiful -”
Just then Elvis bounded up the stairs, and Rex jumped back a mile.
“There’s my sweetheart, c’mon baby, need my best gal by my side.” Elvis hands were around Bettina’s waist, cradling her into him as he walked down stairs, yelling back at Rex.
“Looking for something Rexadus? You didn’t go and loose that fancy ass comb you bought in Paris already? You shudda seen him, Betty, made us late for our show that night, prancing round buyin that thang.”
Bettina nodded, half dazed. Her mind was racing as she pieced together the mistakes she had made over the last few days, wondering if there was any way to undo the love spell, to uncurse the curse.
She barely heard the doorbell ring or Elvis snapped at Charlie to go answer as he made his way to the piano and sat Bettina next to him as he played. She couldn’t sit still, and began to fidget with her nails. Elvis pursed his lips, and was just about to give her a lecture on proper posture when something caught his eye. Bettina turned to see his friend, Currie, being led into the room with his wife, Carol and a beautiful, shy young girl with porcelain skin, dark brown hair and an upturned nose. Elvis whistled and stopped playing to stride over and introduce himself to the newcomer.
“Howdy, I’m Elvis Pretzel.” He stammered out with an awkward laugh.
Bettina rolled her eyes as she watched him eagerly run his hand through his hair. The young girl blushed demurely.
“A pleasure, I’m sure. My name is Priscilla. Priscilla Beaulieu.”
Happy Halloween.........
tagging a few friends:
@missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @lookingforrainbows @ashtag6887 @deniseinmn @ab4eva @i-r-i-n-a-a @j-v-9-2 @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @arrolyn1114 @lialocklear @everythingelvispresley @artlover8992 @dkayfixates @kingdomforapony @louisejoy86 @notstefaniepresley @literally-just-elvis-fics @whositmcwhatsit
#elvis presley#elvis fanfiction#elvis x oc#elvis presley fanfiction#army elvis#spooky not scary#elvis-o-ween#ughhh oh well here goes nothing#halloween
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starting a collection
tag yourself
all from @/theboneshome on tiktok
#halloween#tiktok#screenshots#tiktok screenshots#skeletons#halloween decorations#puns#prince harry#elvis presley#lana del rey#ed sheeran
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Tennessee Orange
Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF
Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader
Characters: Elvis Presley, Reader, You, Original Female Character
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 2407
Summary: I met somebody, he’s got blue eyes.
Tags/Warnings: Young Love, Established Relationship, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Leaving home, Baby Boy Elvis, 1950s Elvis, Comfort, Song Fic, Tennessee Orange // Megan Moroney, Idk what football teams where around in the 50s so lets just lend some artistic license to it k?
Notes: Oh to have a whirlwind romance with baby boy Elvis
This is linked to Die From A Broken Heart
ELVIS MASTERLIST // SONG LINK // HALLOWEEN MASTERLIST
I was nervous, the knots in my stomach growing tenfold with every passing second and every unanswered ring of the phone. It wasn’t that I’d been waiting long but I’d built up my nerve and it was losing momentum the longer the call went on. Not to mention how the idea of my daddy answering the phone sent me into a cold sweat.
Fortunately I didn’t have to worry much about that as when the line clicked on it was my mother's soft voice that answered, ‘hello?’
‘Mama?’ I asked.
‘Darlin’ is that you?’ she said with a smile in her voice.
‘It’s me,’ I said and though my nerves hadn’t completely vanished they dulled as I allowed the comfort that only a mother's voice could bring to wash over me.
‘Well isn’t this a surprise,’ she chuckled, ‘we figured we wouldn’t hear hide nor hair of you for a least another couple of days.’
‘I got a spare minute,’ I mumbled as my nerves amped up once more. She was right given that the moment I had touched down in Memphis my thoughts of home seemed to vanish and they probably would’ve stayed that way if I hadn't been forced to make this blasted phone call.
‘How is it going?’ she asked.
‘Good,’ I said which technically wasn’t a lie. I was having the time of my life here but that wasn’t what I had called to talk about. My mother however didn’t seem to grasp that as she continued to ask, ‘are you girls having fun?’
‘Yeah, actually-'
‘Behaving?’ she mused.
‘Yeah, Mama,’ I said attempting to get to the point only to find she once again beat me to the punch.
‘Because I won't have you putting Betty out you hear me? You’re a guest in her home-‘
‘I know,’ I said hoping I could nip whatever rant she was going to go into in the bud.
‘Because-'
‘Mama I’ve got some news,’ I said, the words tripping out of my mouth without permission though they seemed to do the trick as she fell quiet on the other end. I fell quiet too, my heart hammering in my chest as I realised that there was no way I could back out now.
‘Oh?’ she said. It wasn’t an outright question or even a statement but it was enough to know that she was waiting for whatever information I was going to lay on her.
‘Yeah,’ I said hesitantly, ‘it’s important.’
‘Oh,’ she said again and I was stunned at how she could keep her tone so even. How she could make it that I couldn’t sniff out anger or happiness alike. How she could remain unphased whilst I was sitting on the other end, knots in my stomach as well as the phone cord I had taken to twizzling around my finger the moment the call began. How she didn’t betray her feelings as I did when I rushed to say, ‘but you can't tell Daddy! Not yet anyway.’
Only then did I hear her falter, a hefty sigh escaping her lips as she asked panicked, ‘What is it? Are you okay? Oh Lord please tell me you are not in some sorta trouble.’
‘Of course not! You know you raised me right,’ I protested feeling a warmth in my cheeks at the thought of her picturing whatever mess I’d gotten into.
‘Well then, what is it?’ she asked.
‘Mama…I met someone,’ I mumbled.
‘Oh,’ she said softly and though it was nothing more than a word I could sense the emotions in it because it was one of surprise.
I didn’t blame her of course. She had sent me to spend time with my aunt and my cousins not to get involved with boys but it wasn’t as though it couldn’t happen. And suddenly my protests of her having raised me right reared their head because if she had I wouldn’t have been keeping him a secret. I wouldn’t have kept his existence in my life on the fringes. They would’ve gotten some inkling of what was coming.
‘You remember the boy from summer I told you about?’ I asked hoping that if she recalled my having mentioned him, if only once, it would make me feel less guilty.
‘Elvis? The singer guy?’ she said making my heart flutter at his mere mention, ‘the one whose concert you and June went to?’
‘That’s him,’ I agreed feeling slightly better that at least he hadn't come totally out of the blue as I carried on explaining, ‘Well, we’ve been talking and writing all the time since and well…Mama he asked me to be his girl.’
‘Well,’ she said before she paused for a moment causing my emotions to buy another ticket for the rollercoaster they were currently on until she said, ‘That’s good. What’s he like?’
‘Oh he’s amazing,’ I said, the damn finally breaking as all the happiness and love I’d been terrified of admitting to spilled out, pouring from me and down the phone line in gushing sentiments, ‘I’ve never met a boy like him before at all. He’s sweet and charming and handsome. I mean you should see his eyes, Mama, he’s got these gorgeous blue eyes I swear could hypnotise ya.’
‘Well he sounds quite the guy,’ she said in the way that mothers do. The way that makes you wonder if they’ve ever felt that way before though at some point they must’ve otherwise you wouldn’t even be here to be feeling it yourself.
‘He is,’ I said trying not to feel embarrassed by my gushing and rather to see them as an aid in making her see just how much I loved him.
‘Well I’m happy for you baby and don’t worry about your daddy, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,’ she said and for a moment I forgot about all the worries I’d had about telling her. She was happy for me. And if she was happy it would only take some cajoling from her to get daddy on board which was why I had ventured to tell her first, to lay the groundwork for any further conversations.
‘Doubt it he’s a Vols fan,’ I giggled.
‘Oh Lord help you,’ she mused.
‘I know! Actually, he took me to a game the other day, he even got me wearing that horrible orange jersey,’ I teased making her laugh.
‘So long as you don’t bother learning the words to Old Rocky Top I think your daddy will survive,’ she said.
‘I won’t,’ I promised though as her laughter died down my nerves crept back in. I’d gotten lost in the conversation, lost in getting her on board with the mere idea of Elvis that I’d forgotten that wasn’t why I was calling.
‘Mama?’ I asked earning a hum from her that signalled she was listening, ‘that’s not all.’
‘What is it?’ she asked in a voice so earnest I could picture her sweet face, plastered with confusion waiting for whatever bombshell I was about to drop. And once again I felt the need to defend myself as I rambled, ‘you gotta understand. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and I don’t think I ever will for anyone else.’
‘Baby what is it?’ she said hesitantly.
‘Well Elvis’ singing career is getting real big and he’s doin’ real well-'
‘Okay,’ she murmured.
‘Which means he’s all over the place workin’ which is why when we have seen each other I’ve always had to come to Memphis and well it's not gonna get any easier or at least it doesn’t look like it will what with him doing so well-'
‘Honey you’re rambling,’ she said stopping me in my tracks.
‘He asked me if I’d want to move here…to live with him,’ I said quietly unable to gauge any reaction before I whispered, ‘and I said yes.’
And with that she fell silent meaning that all the nerves I had alleviated with her happiness came flooding back only ten times worse. I could picture her now, trying to work out how to dash my dreams but to do it in a way that didn’t break my heart entirely. That had been why I had been scared to tell them because I worried they’d ask me not to. And I couldn’t do that because when Elvis had asked I had said yes without question and though it was a big change I knew it was what I wanted with my whole heart.
‘Oh baby I don’t know,’ my mother said quietly.
‘Mama I know it's soon but I promise you he’s a good guy. And it's not like I’d be on my own. Betty’s here in Memphis and he lives with his whole family so it’s not like it’s just us. And they're all so sweet to me you’d really like ‘em,’ I said hoping to reassure her. Hoping that if she saw that I’d thought about it thoroughly she’d see it wasn’t as bad as it sounded on paper.
‘But it's just so far and you're so young sweetheart,’ she said.
‘Not that young,’ I said feeling a pout fall on my face as though I was a kid who’d acted rashly when that wasn't the case at all. In fact, I’d been chewing on the idea for days.
‘Young enough,’ she countered and with that, I felt my sorrow turn to irritation.
‘As young as you were when you married Daddy,’ I refuted feeling immediately guilty as I realised it was a dirty move, ‘besides it ain’t like there’s much waiting for me back in Crawford.’
‘What about your family?’ she bit back making the guilt hit another level.
‘Mama don’t be like that,’ I sighed.
‘I’m not being like anything you’ve just told me you want to run away to live with a boy you barely know, one that your daddy and I haven’t even met!’ she said heatedly.
‘Well, what if you meet him?’ I said hoping the conversation wouldn’t spiral any further. I hadn't meant to hurt her with my words but I could tell that she was hurting anyway. So I tried to compromise, I tried to offer something that would make her see I was happy, ‘how about you come to Memphis and meet him and his family? I swear you'll see this is good for me I promise.’
‘Why don’t we talk about this in the morning?’ she asked cutting me off.
‘But-‘
‘Look I just some time to think about it okay? To think about what I’m gonna say to your daddy,’ she said quietly.
‘You’re saying it can happen?’ I asked trying desperately to pick apart what her words meant.
‘I’m saying you're a grown-up. I can't stop you and I won't,’ she said, ‘but if it’s what you want…’
‘It is,’ I said.
‘Then we’ll figure it out,’ she said, ‘it’s just a lot you have to understand that.’
‘I do Mama,’ I said, ‘but I promise this is good for me. I know once you meet him you'll understand.’
‘You're probably right,’ she said, a tad flatter than I’d hoped. I could hear her moving now, no doubt itching to get me off the line. A suspicion that was confirmed as she said, ‘Look your daddy will be home soon. I should go.’
‘Okay,’ I said trying to sound as understanding as possible.
‘Okay,’ she replied, ‘I love you.’
‘Love you too,’ I said quietly.
‘Bye.’
‘Bye.’
And with that she was gone, the line going silent as I slipped the handset back into place. As I thought about it all I flopped back on the bed exhausted by the mix of emotions flooding thought me. I supposed it could’ve gone worse. It wasn’t the best it could be sure, but she could’ve said no. She could’ve told me I had to come home which would only leave me heartbroken, not by the prospect of leaving Elvis, but by the fact that I would choose him, I knew I would.
I knew how it looked. I knew I must sound crazy to move hundreds of miles away from home for a boy I had only just met and that as my mother she had every right to be concerned. But as my attention was pulled to the door where I found Elvis poking his head around it, a lopsided grin coming to his face as he found me splayed out on the bed, I knew her concerns weren’t warranted. Because as hard as I had fallen for him he had fallen for me just as much.
And though we could try to do long distance it wouldn’t be the same. I'd be stuck moping around Crawford, my days spent waiting for him. At least here I was in his world and that world was one I never wanted to leave, because no matter how mixed up I was feeling at that moment everything felt okay because he was there.
‘Hey,’ he said coming into the room and sitting next to me.
‘Hey,’ I replied as I pushed myself up, looping my arm through his as I placed my head on his shoulder.
‘Everything alright?’ he asked with concern making a small smile come to my face.
‘Yeah,’ I murmured, ‘just got off the phone with my mom.’
‘Ah,’ he said understandingly, ‘how'd it go?’
‘Could've gone better,’ I admitted, refusing to look up though I felt him glance down at me. It was true, it could’ve gone better but I supposed it could’ve gone worse too and for that I was grateful.
‘You told her I was a Vols fan huh?’ Elvis asked making me giggle, his own hearty rumble soothing against my ear. Though as quickly as my laugh came it went and he must have heard the deep breath that came from me as no sooner was it out did he put his hand on my knee, providing me with comfort I could never repay. Comfort that only continued as he said, ‘They’ll come around.’
I smiled, wondering how on earth he always knew just what to say.
‘I hope so.’
He ain't from where we're from,
But he feels like home, yeah,
He's got me doin' things I've never done,
In Georgia, they call it a sin,
And I still want the Dawgs to win,
But I'm wearing Tennessee orange for him 🧡
ELVIS TAGS
@girlblogger2002
@sania562
@caitlin1996
@literally-just-elvis-fics
@notstefaniepresley
@artlesson8892
@18lkpeters
@velvetelvis
@jaqueline19997
@elvispresleyxoxo
@amydarcimarie
@presleyenterprise
@everythingelvispresley
@elvispresleywife
@lillypink
@richardslady121
@lettersfromvenus
@louisejoy86
@ccab
#my writing#elvis#elvis presley#elvis presley x reader#elvis x reader#elvis fic#Elvis Presley fic#tennessee orange#song fic#halloween challenge#halloween challenge 2023#halloween
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In honor of Halloween...
"Devil in Disguise"
I wrote a vampire fic but PLOT TWIST Elvis isn't the vampire.
YOU ARE!
Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI!!!! Kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), a little girl on girl action, threesome (MFF), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also vampire bites and blood drinking
A/N: this was a fun stretch for me. Please let me know what you think!
Inspired by these pics:
You've honestly forgotten how many years you've been a vampire. You know you were turned at the end of the American Civil War as a means of survival for your children, who are all dead now anyway. After your youngest passed, you moved to France. You followed the American soldiers here in 1944, since they had literally been your bread and butter since you were turned. Now, the war was over, but your job as a dancer at the Moulin Rouge was too good to leave and there was still a steady stream of young men, and even soldiers at times, to keep you well-fed and young(ish)-looking. You had been 33 when you were turned, so that was your permanent age, but when you were well-fed the men assumed you were younger and never bothered to ask if you weren't.
None of the other dancers knew what you were except for Anya, who was also like you and had been a refugee after the Russian revolution. While she was younger, she had become your closest friend in the years since you'd come to Paris.
She was the one who alerted you to the presence of one Elvis Presley in the spring of 1959. You'd seen him on television and knew he was in Germany with the Army, but you hadn't expected him to show up here.
"He's on furlough. The girls are fighting over who will get to be with him first." Anya whispers to you as you get dressed. Luckily you've learned to understand her thick accent. She knew you were always looking for a new challenge and she preferred rich, older gentlemen, so she wasn't interested in this boy, as she thought of him.
"Oh, Anya, I don't know. I'm exhausted and he's sure to be surrounded by photographers and fans. It'll be hard to get him alone."
"You're tired because..." she leans in and speaks softly, "you need to feed. And how fun would he be?"
"Maybe. I don't want to compel him, though. That's too easy."
"Then don't. Go out there and show these little girls how a woman works." She slaps your ass and gives you a wink before walking to line up for the opening dance.
******
After your dances are finished, you're sent to mingle with the men in the club and see if you can't score a few extra tips. You see the throng of people and assume that must be where he is. Swinging your hips as you walk, you move to a spot in his eye line, but far enough away to not draw the attention of the crowd. He's got dancers all around him and he must've kissed a half dozen of them already, but you recognize the look in his eye. It's the same look you have on most nights. He's hungry for a challenge, something new and exciting and not the same girls falling at his feet.
That's when his eyes meet yours. They lock for a good thirty second before his gaze moves down your body. He takes in your black and red bodice and fishnet hose, all the way down to the black heels on your feet and back up again to the feathers stuck in your hair. But you know what he wants, so you pull your eyes away from his magnetic stare and start to walk away, a look of disinterest on your face.
You move slowly across the room, talking and flirting with patrons as you do. Still, you can feel his eyes on you, tracking you like a predator with prey. Little does he know, he's the prey in this scenario and he's falling perfectly into your snare.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him dismissing the girls around him and trying to shake the crowd that follows him, assuring them he'll be right back. But you know better. Once he's yours, he'll be yours for the night.
You keep making your way around the room until you feel a soft hand on your shoulder and a voice in your ear.
"You runnin' away from me, mama?" You turn to face him with a bored smile.
"Should I be?" The hunger in his eyes intensifies with your apathy towards him.
"I'm told I'm a pretty good time. You might not want to run away just yet." He's laying it on thick for you, smiling devilishly, with his lip curled just so. You have to admit, he is very good looking, and you smile in spite of yourself. He leans his head back a little, confident he's got you now.
"Come on, mama. Let's go somewhere we can talk."
That didn't take long. He's less of a challenge than you thought he'd be. Turns out his hunger is your best weapon.
"Follow me." You smile up at him through your lashes and make your way to the door that leads backstage. Once you're back there with a little privacy, you push him up against the wall and kiss him deeply, running your hands down his front to the top of his pants and then back up. At first, he's caught off guard, but it doesn't take him long to wrap his arms around you and pull your body in close to his. He has some skill with his tongue and you realize that you're hungrier than you thought you were. You feel your fangs start to extend, so you pull away quickly and grab his hand, practically dragging him to one of the rooms you use for this sort of thing. He doesn't complain about your speed, though.
When you get inside, you turn and lock the door behind you.
"Damn, baby. Somebody knows what she wants."
"You have no idea." You round on him, trying to keep your fangs hidden until the right moment. You don't want to scare him away too quickly. It takes everything inside you not to just pounce on him, but you take a deep breath and feel your fangs retract.
You push him backwards to the edge of the couch.
"Sit down."
"Yes ma'am." His eyes sparkle with the excitement of being told what to do. You can tell he's used to being in charge, but he's not opposed to letting you take control. You walk over to the record player and put on something jazzy and sensual. The more aroused he is, the more vitality you can derive from his blood. When you get back in front of him he reaches out and puts both hands on your hips.
"Nuh uh." You move his hands back to his lap. "Just look. Don't touch."
"Mmm." He grunts and bites his bottom lip as you begin to move in front of him. You sway your hips seductively and touch your body as you dance. Slowly, you reach behind you and unzip your bodice, letting it fall to the floor. The only thing you have on underneath is your fishnet hose and his mouth drops at the sight in front of him. He adjusts his pants and you know he's well on his way to where you need him. You slide the hose down and kick off your shoes until you're standing in front of him completely naked. He still hasn't closed his mouth or been able to make a sound. You straddle him on the couch and reach for his tie. His hands go to your breasts and again you stop him.
"Did I say you could touch?" He whimpers.
"Honey, please..."
"I will tell you when you can touch me." He whines and flexes his hands before he puts them back at his sides. You begin to undress him slowly, first his tie, then his jacket, and finally his shirt, running your fingers across his chest lightly. He barely even has hair there.
"I need to touch you. Please." He looks at you with puppy dog eyes and bucks his hips up into you. You feel his hardness pushing against his pants. Then, you stand up again and he moans.
"No, honey, I'm sorry..."
"Take off your pants." He does as he's told and frantically removes his pants and shoes and then sits back down on the couch. His cock bounces in his lap and you can't help but be a little impressed by the size of it.
"You want to touch me?"
"Yes, please, mama." He looks at you with his eyes wide, dick twitching. You walk toward him and he reaches out, first cautiously and then hungrily, his hands exploring your body feverishly. He pulls you down into his lap and kisses you passionately. He lays you on your back on the couch and kisses down your neck. You put your hand on the top of his head and gently push him down toward your center.
He smiles. He can do this part well and he knows it. When his mouth makes contact with your clit, you yelp a little because it feels so good. He really is talented with his tongue and it's obvious as he licks and laps at you. Then, he slides two of his long fingers inside you and starts to move them in and out. The sensation is almost overwhelming and you feel your orgasm building deep in your core. He knows he's almost got you there too, so he picks up the pace of his hand and tightens his tongue to a point as he licks over and around your clit. Finally, the waves crash over you, sending heat and electricity to your fingertips and back again. You shudder and pulse around his hand and he does that boyish grin again.
"How badly do you want to fuck me?" You ask as he makes his way back up your body.
"Honey, I don't think I've ever wanted anything more in my life." You push him up into a sitting position and straddle him again, slowly sinking onto his cock until you're stuffed to the hilt with him. He groans and leans his head back on the couch. You feel your fangs extend again with the pleasure and do your best to keep your mouth closed, but his neck is exposed and you're so hungry...
"Honey? You okay?" You realize that you've stopped moving and snap back to reality.
"Mhmm!" You go back to grinding on his lap, pushing him deeper and deeper. That was too close. You have to keep yourself under control better until he's lost in a post-sex drunken haze. Why is he getting to you like this? You need to not let yourself get this hungry.
"Fuck, mama. This feels so good. I'm getting close." You stop and stand up off of him. "What? Why?"
"Not yet." He breathes deeply and leans his head back on the couch again. You grab a robe off the back of the door.
"I'll be right back."
You step out into the hallway and almost run smack into Anya.
"Oh thank God. I need your help. I'm having a hard time controlling myself. Help me finish him off." Anya looks at you concerned.
"Okay. I will help you." This isn't the first time this has happened. You've helped her and she's helped you before. Balancing the desires and hunger as a vampire is a delicate business. Sometimes it takes two of you to keep each other in line.
You open the door again and step in with Anya. He sits up and attempts to cover himself with his hand.
You unzip Anya's bodice and let it fall to the floor, pulling her into a deep kiss, your breasts pressed up against each other. Elvis sits on the couch with his mouth open again, unsure of what to do next. When you both turn to him, he sits up straight and swallows hard. His cock bounces in his hand as he looks at you both there naked in front of him. You sit on either side of him on the couch. Anya's hand goes to his dick and you pull him into a kiss. You add your hand to hers and he groans, watching you both work with his eyes wide.
"Holy fuck." He whispers as you lean in and kiss each other again over him as you touch him. Together, you lay him down on the couch. Anya climbs onto his face and he goes to work. But when you slide his cock into you, you hear him moan audibly. You begin to bounce up and down on him quickly and he grabs your hips. He has a hard time deciding what to do with his hands as Anya sits on his face and you sit on his dick. He gets her to an orgasm pretty quickly, being as skilled as he is and she stands up off of him. He's surprised when you lean in and kiss him, even with Anya's desire on his lips. He thrusts into you from underneath and you feel another orgasm forming, your fangs starting to descend. She can tell you're struggling, so Anya leans in and kisses you hard.
"I think he's almost ready." She whispers with her thick accent. She grabs his hands and holds them above his head while you fuck him.
"'M gonna come, mama." He groans. You don't stop. Instead, you move faster, your own orgasm just a couple of thrusts away. You slam into each other faster and faster, harder and harder, all while Anya holds his hands. Finally, you scream and he cusses loudly.
"Yes, fuck, oh my god!" He pumps into you weakly as he shudders and fills you with warmth. You come too, hard, and your fangs come out one last time. You can no longer hide them and you lean forward to the soft supple skin of his neck.
"What?!" He begs, but doesn't fight back. You gently pierce him with your teeth and suck as the blood comes quickly. It's sweetened with the energy of his desire and his release and it fills you in a way you didn't think was possible.
As you finish, Anya releases his arms and you lick the tiny marks on his neck, knowing your saliva will heal it quickly.
"Did you just bite me?" He asks drunkenly.
"I did."
"I liked it."
"Most of you do, you just don't know it until it happens."
Anya kisses your forehead and grabs her things, wrapping the robe around herself and disappearing through the door.
He sits up and wraps his arms around you.
"Did you get younger?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"Make me like you."
"Oh, no, honey, I would never."
"Why not? Please?" He looks at you with his round blue eyes and you see the pain there. You kiss his hair and hold him close to your chest.
"You don't really want this. I promise."
"What if I really do?"
"I'm not turning Elvis Presley into a vampire."
"Then I'll find someone who will." You look deeply into his sex-drunk eyes.
"We'll talk about this in the morning." You curl up next to him on the couch as sleep approaches both of you.
"I'm not changing my mind."
You drift off in his arms, thinking about what it would mean to release him into the world as a new vampire. Is that a responsibility you're willing to accept? Is it really what he wants? Can you be the vampire that makes the most famous man on the planet immortal?
You don't know. But tonight, you were the vampire that fucked and drank Elvis Presley. And who else can say that?
******
Hope that was a fun treat!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Taglist:
@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows
Sorry if you didn't want a tag in this one! Either way, I hope some of you enjoy this little Halloween treat!
#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley#elvis fanfic#elvis smut#elvis presley x reader#elvis x reader#elvis presley fic#elvis presley x y/n#elvis fic#elvis fanfiction#elvis presley smut#elvis presley x you#elvis presley fanfic#elvis x y/n#elvis x you#halloween#halloween smut
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AN: Yeah, here's part 3 of my "halloween one shot"....
This is primarily for @thatbanditqueen who has been nudging me for months, patiently cheerleading, and reminding me that I used to write.
Thank you to everyone who regularly pokes me to check if I'm still alive and patiently asks for updates on stuff. I appreciate you, so much.
Chapter 2
Chapter Three
Tiptoeing precariously and dripping across the carpet as she clutched a rough, thin towel to her front, Cheryl scrabbled for the lock and only just managed to stumble back in time to avoid having a door and a six foot man crash into her face.
Elvis barrelled in and slammed the door closed behind him, leaning against it like someone was trying to barge their way in. Someone other than him, that is.
“What happened?” she asked, trying to gather the corners of the towel around her.
“I…” He frowned at her and then looked back at the door, his eyes wide and wild. She waited for more, but he seemed to be finding it hard to get the words out. She finally went back into the bathroom to change into some clothes, leaving him standing by the adjoining door, eyeing it warily.
“I-I- I thought it was you,” he said eventually, after she had returned and perched on the end of her bed, sitting there for about ten silent minutes. She waited for him to elaborate, but this seemed to be as much as he was prepared to say. “I thought it was you.”
After a while, his shock seemed to transform into anger and she watched him start to pace in front of the door, his jaw clenched tight.
“This is crazy,” he muttered quietly. “You about lost your damn mind, boy.” He shot her a glance that seemed to be measuring her up, like he wasn’t sure that it hadn’t been her in his room even though she had clearly been in the shower at the time. He glared back at the door and then nodded to himself, making up his mind about something.
Letting his cheeks puff up with air, he exhaled in a meditative pause, before reaching out and twisting the door handle. Cheryl craned her neck, trying to see around him as he stood, legs astride, in the open doorway, ready to confront whatever was there. She watched his shoulders drop, then he walked through the door into the empty room, touching the tangled blankets at the end of the bed.
Cheryl followed and he turned his head slightly to acknowledge her, reaching back and snagging her hand with his fingers.
“I weren’t imagining it,” he murmured to himself. “I’m touched in the head, but I ain’t that crazy, not yet. I know what I saw.”
“What did you see?” she asked gently, feeling his hand sweating a little in hers.
“I- You won’t tell no one about this, will ya, honey? Last thing I need is some gossip rag printing a bullshit story about ole Elvis seein’… Well, y’know.”
“It’ll stay between us,” she murmured, but in her mind she was imagining the free publicity it could bring her. No more struggling to get bookings, no more playing to superstitious grannies and their drunk, heckling husbands. She focused back on the room and her heart lurched at the way his eyebrows were slightly knitted together and his upper lip curled as he studied her, like he could see exactly what she was imagining and he was hurt by it. She felt like she had kicked a kitten.
“Was it a girl?” she asked instead, shifting uncomfortably. He looked down, nodded with a jerk. “Was she crying?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t really.. It weren’t no more than a shadow really, s’why I thought it was you. Only you didn’t answer and-” His expression changed, froze, and whatever he was about to tell her receded like the tide.
“I saw her earlier,” she revealed, offering it up as an apology, an act of contrition to try and mend the trust between them. “In my room. And I think I heard her screaming before that.”
“Goddamn,” he breathed, sinking down onto the end of the bed and staring balefully at the carpet. “This is-”
Cheryl didn’t quite know what to do. She felt almost guilty since this was her regular life and, though she didn’t know how, it had somehow spilled over into his. She patted his shoulder tentatively. When he glanced up though he was grinning, teeth biting into his plush bottom lip.
“I knew it!” he cried. “I goddamn knew that there had to be more to this than-” He swiveled his hand around absently, frenetically. “-There had to be! Shit, the guys ain’t gonna believe this!” He jumped to his feet and moved towards his door, but then almost immediately stopped again.
“They ain’t gonna believe this,” he repeated, his tone completely different this time. He reached up and brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “They’re good boys, most of ‘em, but they don’t have a thought that ain’t about their wallet, their belly or their pecker, and not in that order. This’d just… it’d be too much for their tiny minds to comprehend.”
Cheryl stared back at him as he finally looked at her, not sure that her input was required in this solo conversation he was having.
“I- Why’s she crying?” He raised his eyebrows at her when she didn’t respond.
“Sorry?”
“You said she- the gho- the girl- she was crying? Why’s she crying?” He smoothed his hair again and adjusted his robe, trying to look like he was comfortable with the conversation, but his restless hands were giving him away.
“I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. Her eyes slid to the clock on the wall; it would be dawn soon and she was feeling the weight of the day before pressing down on her body and her eyelids.
“Can’t you ask her? I mean that’s your racket- your job, right?”
“Maybe?” She wanted to be honest with him and temper his expectations. This girl seemed to want to make contact, but the operator, who or whatever that was, might not feel like putting the call through. That was the way that she thought about it anyway. “I guess we could try.” She eyed the sparse mid century decor and furniture dubiously. “We might need to change the ambiance a little bit.”
Cheryl wondered what Elvis’ guys thought about being woken at four am and told that they needed to procure candles and lilies. From listening to Elvis’ end of the call, she guessed they were unimpressed to say the least.
She was in the bathroom changing into her stage wear, eavesdropping on Elvis as he made his demands sounding like a cross between a drill sergeant, a high school football coach and a spoilt prince.
“I don’t know where you’re gonna get it from, son,” he was saying as she straightened the black crinoline sleeve around her wrist. “That’s what I pay you for. Now you wanna run with us, you wanna be part of the organization, you gotta pull your weight. Use some fuckin’ ingenuity for once in your goddamn life!” He slammed down the phone, dropped his shoulders and turned as she emerged from the bathroom, his calm face and grin belying the angry tone he had just used on the phone. “We’ll have what you need in less than an hour.”
Eyebrows raising, he whistled, and she felt a flash of warmth- mainly embarrassment- as he took in her outfit.
“Those are some threads you got on there. You go all out with the get-up and everything, huh.”
Cheryl shrugged awkwardly, feeling silly, but he ran his hands down his silk robe contemplatively.
“I gotta change.”
With far too much energy and excitement for the early hours of the morning, he strode towards the adjoining door to his room and started to go through it, but he paused in the threshold, grabbing the edge of the door.
“I’m, uh, I’m gonna leave this open,” he said haltingly. “Just in case you- you need me or anything, okay, honey?” The twinkle in his eye and his slight smirk was sly, acknowledging that they both knew why he wanted to leave the door open and that it had nothing to do with him looking out for her.
Fifty minutes after the phone call, there was a brisk knock on Cheryl’s door and she opened it to find two sopping wet, angry-looking men. One was clutching a huge arrangement of white lilies and the other a brown paper bag that was almost just as wet as he was. Behind them, sheets of rain continued to pummel the asphalt.
“How in the world…” she began, but they were not in the mood to talk, gesturing for her to step aside so that they could put their wares on the sideboard and storm back out. She gingerly opened the paper bag to find candles and wax polish.
Again, there was a rap on the door and another guy, a lick of hair plastered to his forehead by the rain, was standing holding another bag. Cheryl sniffed the air in confusion.
“Is that..?”
“‘Bout damn time,” Elvis remarked, leaning up against her back and grabbing the sack from his employee's hand. “These got mustard on ‘em?”
“Yeah, E, I-”
“Well, I don’t need a running commentary,” Elvis returned, turning from the door. Cheryl gave the guy an uncomfortable smile and closed the door.
Elvis was practically vibrating with anticipation. He grabbed one of the bacon sandwiches from the sack and opened it up cautiously with his thumb and forefinger like he was afraid of what he might find. Whatever it was, it seemed to meet his exacting standards as he hummed happily and took a ravenous bite. Cheryl shook her head and started her preparations.
Elvis followed her around the room, just over her shoulder like an eager child, watching her position the lillies on the floor and set up the candles, using the plastic cups from their bathrooms as makeshift candle holders.
“What's with the, uh, polish there, honey?” He balled up the grease-stained bag and tossed it into the wastepaper basket near the door. He had eaten the sandwiches without even offering her one.
“There's no- That is, there isn't a reason as such. My grandmother, she was the one who taught me how to “listen”- that's what she called it. We'd practice for hours in her parlor. She was the real deal, had people coming to her from all over for séances and readings. She was also very house proud, every inch of her house gleamed. All my memories of her and my lessons are thick with the scent of wax polish.” She flushed. “I wish I had a better explanation for you.”
His face mirrored hers, a slightly bashful smile tilting his lips.
“No, I get it,” he said softly. “I got some smells that remind me of home too. Not the way it is now, but before…” He shook his head, leaping slickly over vulnerability and tender memories like he was stepping over a puddle. “And all I have to do is get a hint of wood smoke and I'm back to freezing my ass off in maneuvers over in Germany. You think it's cold now? Damn near left all my toes over there!”
“Well, I think I'm about ready,” she sighed, eyeing the little array she had created on the carpet. She did it just the way her grandmother had done it, the cards to her left, the slate and chalk, just the way Gran’s own mother had taught her.
Elvis stood beside her and fluttered his fingers out at his sides.
“Where do you want me, honey?” She glanced up and smiled, feeling her cheeks grow warm. “For this, I mean.” He winked.
Cheryl gestured to the other side of the candles and he tugged up the legs of his trousers before sinking down onto the floor with his legs crossed.
Elvis’ excitement was palpable. She could feel it tingling against her even as she twisted open the tin of polish and took in a deep breath, inhaling wax and sweet cloying lilies mixed with the lingering scent of burnt bacon and Elvis’ cologne.
“Don't you have to… say something?” he whispered after a minute. “Like invite them in or something? I saw a movie once where-”
“Shh!” She immediately regretted it, her eyes fluttering open and an apology on her tongue, but he looked chastised, his lips pressed together and his eyes watching her intently. She felt powerful, for just a second.
That all fizzled out pretty quickly when she tried to tune in and heard… nothing. She frowned and focussed on her breathing. It just didn’t make any sense, because she could feel something, someone, and they clearly wanted to make contact.
“Come on,” she hissed, squeezing her eyes closed and leaning down like she was trying to eavesdrop on a conversation in a crowded room. They were there, she knew it, she just had to try a little harder, reach a little further.
A couple of awkward minutes passed and she could feel her stomach dropping with each tick of her watch. It turned out that failing on a questionably clean motel floor sitting opposite Elvis Presley was just as humiliating as dying on a dusty stage in Eugene, Oregon, with people clearing their throats and scuffing their shoes, murmuring and whispering behind their hands.
Finally, letting out a huff of embarrassment and exasperation, she said, “It’s not working.”
She opened her eyes, prepared to see his suspicion and disappointment, but not the dark haired girl leaning over him, her drenched hair dripping ghostly drops that evaporated before they fell on his bent legs.
“What?” Elvis said, his eyes widening as he took in her face. He started to turn, but Cheryl grabbed his hand. “What’s going on?”
“Stay still.” Her voice sounded a lot calmer than she felt being almost nose to nose with one of the clearest spirits she had ever seen. If not for the disappearing water and the fact that Elvis seemed oblivious, Cheryl could have assumed that one of the girls from the parking lot outside had sneaked into the room. The girl was clinging to his shoulders, fingers ending in vague dark smudges that seemed to grip, to claw into him.
“Tell me what you can see, goddamnit!” he snapped through clenched teeth, nonetheless frozen in place.
“It’s a girl. I think the same one I saw before, but I’ve never, uh, I…” Cheryl could not take her eyes away, convinced that something would happen as soon as she did. “Do you feel anything? Like a cold spot, or tingling?”
“I-I… I don’t know, maybe, but then we’ve been sitting here for a while, so-”
“Don’t move!”
“I can’t help it!” As he jerked his shoulder, the girl turned toward him and Cheryl could almost feel the hunger in her charcoal smudged gaze, the slow, unfurling smile radiating with possessiveness and desperation. “Aren’t you gonna ask her? Ask what happened to her?” He kept glancing to his side as if he’d be able to see something if he looked at the right time.
“Right, okay.” Cheryl looked at the girl, the spirit, and focused as hard as she could, trying to find the right wavelength, the right channel. When she asked for her name, the girl did not respond. She asked what she was doing here, nothing. There was only one person in the room with a connection to her and it wasn’t Cheryl.
“Ask her if that sonovabitch downstairs put his greasy hands on her,” Elvis growled between clenched teeth, tapping the top of Cheryl’s hand with his fingertips like he was communicating through Morse code.
The candles guttered violently as if the door had blown open just as the radio blared out, static almost like pins piercing their ear drums. The flames spilt onto the carpet, the cheap nylon melting faster than ice cream on a summer’s day.
Cursing, Elvis scrambled to his feet, yanking her up behind him and stamped on the burgeoning fire. Cheryl scanned the room for the girl.
A few minutes later, she was shivering on the upper walkway of the motel while Elvis pummeled a door, yelling for the occupant to open up. The rain was slicing down, penetrating their clothes and matting their hair, while the smell of melted carpet clung around them like a haze.
Joe went through a litany of expressions as he opened the door and Elvis barged his way inside, groggy bewilderment, confusion, annoyance, and then resignation.
“There’s been a fire,” Elvis announced in a very airy, casual way as if he hadn’t just hightailed it out the motel room, dragging Cheryl along like a toy on a string. “I took care of it, but someone’s gotta deal with the room.
“A fire?!” Joe’s eyes scanned them both to ascertain that they were okay. “How- I mean-” He ran a hand through his receding hairline and sighed. “I’ll get on it. Whose room?”
“My room,” Cheryl told him, since Elvis had marched into Joe’s bathroom and was currently wiping himself off with one of Joe’s towels. “It was the candles. It must have been the candles.”
Joe went to the phone and started mobilizing the forces as Elvis came out of the bathroom, grimacing as he wiped at his neck with the towel.
“This goddamn rain,” he muttered, before his eyes settled on Cheryl and a strange, little smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t all bad though.”
She glanced down and saw how the sopping crinoline had molded itself to her body, particularly her breasts. She promptly folded her arms over her chest.
“Aw, I’m only playing, honey.” He stepped closer, his hips bumping into her. He wrapped his towel around her face like it was a head scarf and laughed softly. “And anyway, you should be sweet to me. I just saved you.”
“Oh, you did?” Cheryl half-laughed.
“Yeah, I sure did.” He twisted his arm and showed her the shiny red patch on his forearm with a huff of a laugh. “Paid the price for it too, boy.”
“You got burned?!” she cried.
Reclined on one of the single beds, Joe’s head turned like a whip, the receiver falling from the crook of his neck.
“Naw, just a little,” Elvis laughed, peering at it. “It don’t hurt that much.”
“Want me to call the doctor?” asked Joe.
“No, man, it’s nothing, just get my things brought in here and pay that little snake for the damage to his room.”
If Joe was confused about why he was being asked to bring Elvis’ things into his room when it was Cheryl’s room that had been burnt, he didn’t show it.
By the time that she had persuaded Elvis to let her run some cold water over his arm, the cases were already inside the door, though Joe was nowhere to be seen.
“And to think I thought this whole damn movie was gonna be a bust,” he remarked as they huddled over the small basin in the bathroom where she was holding his arm under the faucet. “I mean, it probably will, but it ain’t every day that… Whatever that was… happens to a fella. No sir, that is God's honest proof right there. And even you were scared, I saw your face, you were like a- a scared little lamb. Oh, you were, honey, you don’t have no poker face. And I was just thinking to myself, ‘Well, if she’s scared, we’re about done for, for sure.’”
Finally, he dropped onto the other, untouched single bed in the bedroom and sprawled out on his elbows, giving her a little beckon with his fingers.
“C’mon, honey, we gotta get you out of the wet clothes,” he smirked. “Don’t want you getting pneumonia.”
“You’re a true American hero,” Cheryl remarked, still moving towards him.
“Don’t I know it,” he breathed, pushing himself up to sit by the side of the bed and tugging her forward by the skirt so that he could start unfastening the buttons.
“We still don’t know who she is.”
“That can’t be no big thing to find out. It had to have been in the newspapers or something. I’ll get one of the boys on it tomorrow.”
The way that he was undressing her was almost tender, as if his primary concern genuinely was about her catching cold in damp clothes. After he had drawn her dress down over her shoulders, he rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms as she stood trembling in her slip.
“I tell ya what’s bugging me though… That lowlife, no-count sonovabitch downstairs that did it. Someone should go down there and put a bullet between his fucking eyes.”
“Well, we don’t really know if he had anything to do with it,” Cheryl said quickly, worrying that this was another thing he could arrange with just a quick phone call. “We don’t really know anything more than we did before.” He shook his head resolutely, his cheekbones brimming as his eyes twinkled.
“Honey, we know everything!” he insisted. “Everything that’s worth knowing anyway. We got proof! Proof that there’s something else, after this, and there ain’t nobody that’s really gone!” His leg was bouncing as he beamed at her, as though she had reconstituted space, time and dimensions just to please him.
In one smooth motion, he swung her onto the bed and she dropped onto the squeaky mattress with a muffled squawk. Her legs tangled across his lap as he leant over her, greedily clasping her jaw with his fingers as he kissed her. His kiss felt like a gift, a reward, an offering of thanks as though she had done something to earn it. If she had been a better person, more moral perhaps or stronger willed, she would have pushed him away, or at least felt bad for accepting his gratitude for something she had no control over, but she wasn’t. Cheryl had never been a good person.
As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, his shirt still damp under her skin, she could feel his weight sinking onto her, his upper body flexing and twisting as his hand started at her knee and slid up her thigh, pausing at the hem of her slip. His kisses stopped.
Opening her eyes, she stared up into his face wreathed in shadow, but his eyebrows clearly raised in a question. It was endearing that he sought her permission. She put her hand over his and pulled it up teasingly, the lace hem sliding with their tangled fingers.
“It does belong to you after all,” she whispered breathlessly. He surged forward and his weight crushed her into the mattress for a few seconds before he rolled over and pulled her with him.
“You know, I was thinking, uh, Cheryl, honey.” He softly pressed his lips to the space between her brows and then the lip of her nose. “We’re both gonna be up Seattle way, uh, working. I’d like to see you again after we get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Sure, I’ll give you the number of my hotel..” She giggled. “Later.” She moved closer to kiss him and he met her halfway with enough enthusiasm that it felt a little like she was the movie star and he was the nobody. His thumbs massaged her hips as he exerted pressure, smoothing and cupping her ass, and pulling her into and against him.
Cheryl’s body hummed with a low thrum of energy that usually only coursed through her as she was preparing to step out on stage. Her heart pitter pattered in her chest when she rubbed it against his.
Suddenly, he pulled back, almost laughing.She found herself smiling even though she didn’t know why.
“I guess we should be wondering if we’re being watched, right?” he whispered. “We might have ourselves some dirty little ghosts.” His eyes glittered with mirth and she wondered if he was making fun of her. “I don’t care, let ‘em enjoy the show.” She was still processing that as his luscious lips stole the breath from her.
#elvis presley#elvis fanfic#elvis fanfiction#elvis x oc#elvis presley fanfic#elvis presley fanfiction#60s elvis#Easter/Halloween#same thing right#whositmcwhatsit
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🍁 Autumn & Halloween Prompt List 🎃
It's about to get spoopy up in here. We wanted to do something special not only to celebrate everyone's favorite season but also to honor the amazing writers and creators on Tumblr.
Most of us are creators of some kind — whether that be writers, gifmakers, or artists — and this time of year is hard. We start running into fatigue + the scariest thing during the whole Halloween season: creator's block.
✨ Cue the prompt list ✨
This prompt list is split into three groups: dialogue, scenario, and NSFW prompts. Each section has 31 prompts which are sorted with more general autumn themes first and Halloween-specific prompts after that.
A HUGE HUGE thank you to Shawni (@austin-butlers-gf), Sage (@fangirlwithasweettooth), Kenzie (@fangirl-imagines), & Gabby (@dontbesussis) for helping to create this lovely list!
Feel free to reblog + use for whatever it is that you create and post here on Tumblr! Happy Halloween and enjoy 👻 ♥️
DIALOGUE
[ prompts with / indicate that both characters A + B have lines ]
“You have a leaf in your hair.”
“You’re shivering.”
“Why don’t you take off that mask? I’d like to see your face.”
“You’re scared of that, really?”
“That’s your favorite candy? You have shit taste.”
“Promise not to laugh at me if I scream.”
“My friend abandoned me at this Halloween party and I don’t know anyone. But you look as miserable as I feel.”
“If you can’t summon flames directly from hell, store-bought is fine.”
“It says take one, love.”
“Well…you grabbed my hand first.”
“Oh, I see. Is someone a little scared?”
“I spent so long in the darkness I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.”
“You’re the devil in disguise.”
“Nice try. You’ll have to work harder to scare me.”
“I know you’re trying to be scary, but you’re just way too cute.”
“I couldn’t find a costume, so I just decided to go as your [partner/bf/gf].”
“You’re a scaredy cat.” / “I am not!”
“Boo!” / “You were scarier with the mask off.”
“What are you supposed to be?” / “It isn’t obvious?”
“Ew candy corn?” / “What? This candy is hated for no reason. It’s good!”
“That kind of scared me.” / “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
“Kill me now and put me out of my sugar-fueled misery.” / “I told you to slow down.”
“Come on, it’s just a haunted house! It’ll be like a walk in the park.” / “More like a walk through hell.”
“There’s literally one candle flickering mysteriously. In what universe would I go over there?” / “Is that…a no, then?”
“Well, it is a seance.” / “Good thing the person I want to see is already here.”
“Oh no. You are not wearing the same costume as me! You can’t!” / “Well I did.”
“Ooh very scary!” / “That’s not part of the costume, dumbass.”
“You could have been a prince(ss).” / “Well, I wanted to be a(n) [insert costume] instead.”
“Who you gonna call?” / “Ghostbusters?”
“You look so stupid.” / “Well, that was the idea since I dressed as you.”
“What happened? Let me help you!” / “Relax, the blood is fake.”
SCENARIOS
Leaf hunting/raking leaves
Tailgaiting a football game
Getting drunk at Oktoberfest
Baking a pumpkin pie
Getting PSLs together
Visiting an apple orchard
Visiting a pumpkin patch
Carving a pumpkin
Making caramel apples
Bonfire
Corn Maze
Hayride (haunted or not)
Decorating for Halloween
Costume shopping
Buying couple costumes
Baking Halloween cookies
Haunted house
A doing B’s makeup for a costume
B doing A’s makeup for a costume
Watching a not scary Halloween movie (we recommend Hocus Pocus but take your pick lol)
Watching a scary movie
Halloween photoshoot
Setting up a haunted house
You’re actors in a haunted house
Masquerade ball
Going trick-or-treating
Handing out candy
Playing with an Ouija board
Telling scary stories
Bobbing for apples
Halloween/Murder Mystery Party
NSFW + AUs
[ most of the prompts can be adapted for NSFW or SFW themes but some are more suited to NSFW than others which is why we've separated them ]
“Love the costume but I’d rather see what’s under it.”
“Trick or treat.”
“I would light the candle but…I’m not a virgin.”
“I like your yabbos.”
“Don’t torture yourself ___. That’s my job.”
“Darling, you’re already in my veins.”
“I’ll be the demon to your angel.”
“I want to be what you are, see what you see, love what you love.”
“Just one bite…”
“You’ve been bad. Good thing my costume came with handcuffs.”
“He/She/They prefer(s) virgins.”
“I know what you should be for Halloween. Mine.”
“You’re not as scary as you think you are.” / “Maybe not. But I’ll still have you screaming tonight.”
“Everybody likes your costume better.” / “I could always take it off.”
"Forget the broom. Ride me instead."
“I may not be a vampire but I know how to suck.”
Rolling in the hay? Nah, rolling in the leaves
Sexy couple costumes
You’re stuck in the house of mirrors
7 minutes in heaven but make it Halloween (who can resist a good trope)
Painting each others’ faces/bodies
Mummy wrapping competition
A wears a sexy costume and teases B all night. B isn't happy.
A or B is under a love potion
Roleplay in costume
NSFW Halloween costume fashion show
Getting down and dirty in a corn maze and/or haunted house
Haunted bride/groom AU
Werewolf AU
Vampire AU
Succubus/Incubus AU
Bonus: “This is the skin of a killer, Bella.” 💀
─────
Disclaimer: Feel free to borrow prompts from this list to add to your own prompt lists but if you do, please reblog + credit the original creators of this list or link to this post for proper credit.
Halloween divider by gutterface on DeviantArt + retrieved from Tumblr.
#elvis#elvis 2022#austin butler#prompt lists#writing prompt list#halloween writing prompts#autumn writing prompts#writing#stranger things#outer banks
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Take Me To Church
Pairing: Elvis Presley x F!Reader
Word Count: 8K
Summary: You had to get away from your parents and their overzealous religious beliefs. You set off to Las Vegas to the desert where you meet someone who has set your heart ablaze. How far are you willing to go to stay hidden?
Warning(s): Religious Trauma, Corruption Kink, Knife Play, Blood Play, ANGST, Reader is physically assaulted, MURDER, all that cult shit, SMUT, oral (f.receiving, m.receiving), Vaginal Penetration, 70′s era Elvis is a warning all by itself.
A/N: This is a request. @lovininapinkcadillac, thank you for requesting this because it put me out of my comfort zone in writing dark stuff. Now I wanna write more of it! Happy Halloween, everyone! I hope y’all have a safe and fruitful halloween <3 I also wanna thank my bestest girls @lindszeppelin and @headfullofpresley for giving me ideas that I put in this fic alone. Thanks babies!
masterlist.
The Las Vegas strip was beautiful during the Autumn season. You had run away from the hustle and bustle of your Californian town, not wanting to conform to your father’s overzealous religious beliefs. You were his good girl for over half of your life, but you needed a little rebellion in your life. You had met a girl named Sandra who wanted out of her daily life, so the two of you snuck away in the dead of night, leaving your fairytale life behind. You both hitchhiked as far as you could, sometimes getting lost but would find each other again at truck stops and rest stations. Your mother would be appalled if she could see the kind of things that you were doing to escape the good girl role that your parents expected you to play. Las Vegas was as far as you wanted to go, the grim reality of being too far away from your parents settling in because as much as you were fractious, their authority over you was still there.
Sandra had told you that she knew some friends that were based out of Las Vegas, living some sort of bohemian lifestyle that instantly attracted you. You were always a free thinker, always clashing with your traditionalist mother and devout father about how you should live your life. Your mother wanted you to become a housewife like her, waiting on your husband’s every whim. Your father wanted you to be devout like him, living your life in honor of God and out of the world's ways. While you didn’t see anything amiss with their teachings, teenage rebellion soon crept upon you—drowning you in the misery of resentment for your parents. So here you are, following a girl who you barely knew hours ago in a state that you have never frequented. If your parents could see you now, they would have a conniption. However, you weren’t with your parents, and you didn’t care how they felt about your newfound plans for your life.
Soon enough, you met her friends, who were all welcoming. Too welcoming. One of the members of the group, who was known as Mandy, started talking about a compound that was located in the middle of the desert that lived the nonconformist lifestyle, something that you were looking into living. The compound was known as Graceland, and Mandy said that the leader of the Graceland compound was known as Elvis Presley. Mandy spoke so highly about Elvis that you didn’t think twice when Sandra asked you to come along to behold the power that Graceland held. It took half the following day to reach the desert, noticing an alluring camp that sat smack dab in the middle. However, the surroundings of the compound were guarded by musical notes engraved in a metal gate. The outside plainly stood out among the breeze of the sand that blew quietly. Once everyone passed the gates, you were absorbed in the feeling of being at home. You could hear a roaring cheer come from the church that sat in the middle of the camp, pulling you away from the group.
As you walked inside the building, you could feel the overwhelming feeling that you felt standing outside of its gates; this time, it engrossed you like a godsend. The voice that was bouncing off of the walls filled you with its melody. Standing in front of you was a statuesque man, veins bulging from his neck as he spoke with a graceful tone. His cerulean hues watched his congregation intently before they landed on you. Your feet were planted firmly on the carpet, unable to move as if you were cemented in the ground. His words died on his tongue before he turned away from you—continuing with his sermon, eyes moving back and forth between you and the group in front of him. You continued standing there as the sermon came to a close and the congregation piled out of the church, tears falling out of your eyes at the tremendous feeling of being at home. “You lost, honey?” A southern accent boomed from beside you, startling you out of your trance. You turned to face the man who stood behind the podium, wiping the wetness that pooled under your eyes. “Oh, no! My friends should be around here; they brought me here. We heard about this place, so I wanted to learn firsthand about the wonders of Graceland.”
The man’s smile sent an unusually calm feeling across your body—something that you wanted to feel over and over again. “I-I-I-…enjoyed your sermon, as you can see from the tears. Sorry.” You wiped the remaining tears from your eyes, wiping the wetness on your blouse before putting your hand out. The man took your hand into his soft ones, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’m Y/N.” His smile could have melted a thousand ice sculptures, yet he was melting your nervousness. “Elvis.” He looked over you once more, his eyes not leaving yours. “You and your friends are welcome to stay as long as you’d like. I’ll have one of the girls show you where you’ll stay.” Elvis bid you goodbye, and he was on his way. A woman who you learned was Tamara showed you to your room, which was also hers. For the remainder of the day, until dinner, you and Tamara spoke about your lives and what led you both to the beautiful haven that was known as Graceland. At dinner, your eyes did not leave the table where Elvis and the other men sat, seemingly in a serious conversation. His brow furrowed as he spoke, his eccentric personality standing out in the room.
Your staring was short-lived as Tamara and Sandra brought you out of your fantasy, talking to you about how handsome the men that sat at the table with Elvis were. Sandra was interested in the blonde-haired man, who you learned was Jerry, whereas Tamara was still trying to figure out who she wanted—a man or another woman. As you learned about her, you learned that she was very free-spirited, which led you to adore her, and you wanted to be around her more than the others. Your eyes moved between the girls at your table to Elvis for the rest of dinner. Elvis’s smile never wavered from his face as if he knew that you were watching him.
After dinner, a man pulled you to the side, catching you off guard. “The leader would like to see you outside at the remembrance garden.” Your heart jumped into your throat as you nodded, following the man to the garden. It was a beautiful sight; white roses adorned the vines which wrapped around a gazebo-type building. Along the sides, names of those who you guessed passed on were ingrained in marble stones along the path. The stars were shining brightly that night as you walked up to the taller male who stood staring at the stars in the gazebo. “You were asking for me, Elvis?” Elvis turned around slowly, his blue eyes burning into your face behind his glasses. Your eyes traced along his jawline, noticing that he had a little stubble that was growing and that his lips were shaped as if he was God’s very own sculpture. His hand reached out, silently asking you to join him in the gazebo. You placed your smaller hand into his, stepping up the stairs as your head turned upward towards the sky—eyes enchanted by the stars and by the man that stood next to you.
“You know, I believe you are here for a reason, darlin’.” Elvis never retracted his hand from yours; instead, he rubbed his thumb across your knuckles. Your skin heated up at the contact, not once pulling away from him. The hold that he had over you was powerful, but you were so infatuated with him and his charisma that you couldn’t tell how he had already pulled you into his world completely. “I believe so too, Elvis. I don’t tell many people this, but I am not the girl that you think I am. I ran away from my religious parents, looking for a free spirit lifestyle. However, I feel right at home here at Graceland, like I was meant to be in some structured environment that’s not home.” You rambled, hoping that you made sense to him and deeply hoping that he accepted the part of you that you were trying to change. You were surprised when Elvis laughed at you, turning you to face him. He pulled his hand up to rest on his chest, shaking his head at you as if he was scolding you. “Darlin’, everyone here ran away from something. Myself included. You are more at home here than wherever you came from. I hope that you know that and are willing to stay here with me. With us.” Elvis sounded too good to be true, but something about him screamed to trust him, and that you did.
You were at Graceland for a week, and you were already accustomed to the daily routine of the camp. You were also visiting Elvis every night at the same spot, where you both were learning about each other. There were some things that you could tell that he was keeping to himself, but you weren’t going to bother him about it. You attended your first sermon, where you had fallen more into his charms as he seemed to be an enigma when he was standing at the altar. It wasn’t long before the camp's women started to notice that Elvis was showing favoritism to you. You couldn’t walk around the camp without noticing glares and whispers about you. You tried not to let it bother you, but it would—especially when no one would talk to you besides Sandra and Tamara. You would watch as the same women who were sending glares your way were the same women who were throwing themselves at Elvis. Elvis would allow it, giving subtle touches and kisses to them.
You felt uneasy about the entire situation, so you would spend nights avoiding Elvis when he asked for you to come to him. You would hide in the room that you shared with Tamara, crying into your pillow at the embarrassment of thinking that Elvis would feel something for you. All you thought about was Elvis; you would think about how you wanted his hands to hold yours, how you wanted his lips to kiss your skin. You would wake up thinking about him, and you would go to sleep thinking about only him. Another sermon was scheduled for the following morning. Tamara made sure that you were awake and ready to go. She told you many times that it was mandatory to attend Elvis’s sermons because God spoke through him. You wish you understood what she meant when she spoke those words, but you were only thinking about what Elvis would think when he saw you. You, Tamara, and Sandra sat in the first row of the church as everyone waited for Elvis to arrive.
Elvis came out of the side door, followed by the same men that were sitting at the table with him. He was dressed in a beautiful black and white jumpsuit, his chest visible to the naked eye. The women in the congregation swooned as he turned to face the audience. You rolled your eyes at their behavior, but your heart was giving your annoyance away. He looked breathtaking, more than you expected him to look. His eyes locked on you, his jaw tensing as he stared you down with a look of contempt. Was he upset because you were avoiding him? Elvis took a breath before beginning his sermon, his eyes never leaving yours. “I want to make one thing clear to everyone.” He began, his cerulean eyes still locked to you, his jaw still clenched as if he was debating on being angry with you or not. “When I call for any of you, you do not refuse me. I am the messenger of God. You do NOT refuse me.” His eyes glared at you, sending shivers down your spine. You knew that he was talking about you and that he was angry.
After the sermon was over, you shot up out of your seat. You had to find Elvis and apologize for your behavior. Elvis was talking with a group of women, most of them hanging off of him—listening to every word that he was saying. As soon as he saw you, he pulled away from them, grabbing your hand. He pulled you into his office, slamming the door forcefully. “I want to apologize, Elvis. I didn’t meet with you because I felt embarrassed that you liked me, but you allowed those women to touch you and kiss you and-….,” You couldn’t get the words out fast enough before Elvis’s bright smile spread across his face. “Darlin’, I know. I know you were straying because of your feelings. You have to know, darlin’, those women don’t mean anything to me. Only you. I wouldn’t call for you every night if I wanted the others.” His hand caressed your cheek, pulling you close to him. “God told me that you were meant to be my other half, Y/N. I wouldn’t lie if I didn’t think so as well.” He spoke with certainty.
You left his office that day with a smile on your face. Nothing could take the feeling of being on top of the world from you, not even the women who were still glaring your way when you walked around Graceland. You would continue meeting with Elvis at night, sometimes leaving with a smile bigger than when you came to him. Kisses were starting to be shared and touches as well. However, Elvis never went too far, telling you that he wanted you to be comfortable the first time that he made love to you. You sometimes found yourself becoming the first to show up to his weekly sermons, sitting in the first row as you craved the word of God coming through him. You were never the type who wanted to attend church when you were home with your parents, always trying to find ways to miss the sermons by pretending to be sick or saying that you would attend on your own. However, at Graceland, you wanted to attend every single event that was held—to catch a glimpse of Elvis in his element.
This sermon was different and unusual from the usual ones that he usually gave. “God brought us together for a reason. God will never lead us astray; we must prepare for the Moon Festival.” He spoke with such fervor you could have sworn that you could get off alone in his voice. What was the Moon Festival? Why should you all prepare? You leaned over to Tamara, whispering the questions that plagued your mind. She explained that the Moon Festival was a festival that transformed two into one. Almost like a wedding but more intimate. The Moon Festival would happen in a couple of weeks, so you felt as if you needed to ask Elvis what you should do to prepare. You found yourself in his office again, pushed against his desk as his lips molded with yours. His lips felt as soft as clouds, sweet as candy. Your fingers molded in his black hair, tugging at his locks gently as you chased the high that his lips would give you.
You would break away from him, needing real oxygen. Elvis smiled down at you, allowing you to melt into his arms as your head lay on his chest. “What do I need to do to prepare for the festival, Elvis?” If you were aware of the situation at hand, you wouldn’t ask him. He shook his head, looking down at you, smiling as sweet as honey. “You don’t have to worry your head about anything, baby. You just need to make sure that you are there.” You nodded your head, nuzzling your head back into his chest as he held onto you as long as he could. Once your daily session in his office was over, you would walk out of the church with the same smile as usual. Walking down the pathway that led away from the church, you noticed Irene and a few other women who were known to shoot glares at you, lingering around the dining hall. “Look who it is, ladies. The harlot who was sent here to tempt and steal our leader away from us.” Irene spat, walking up to you before grabbing you by your hair.
Your neck was pulled back before the other woman near you punched you in the stomach, sending you to your knees. You gasped, trying to get away from them. You weren’t trying to steal anyone away, especially not Elvis. God told him that you were meant for him, so how could they go against the word of God? The woman who you heard Irene call Abigail reached over to you again, slapping you across the face. Her nails dug into your skin, creating scratches. You pushed Abigail away, getting back into your feet. “Stay away! Stay away!” You backed away towards the water fountain that sat in the middle of the courtyard. Irene laughed evilly, pushing you into the fountain before she climbed in with you. Her hand pushed your face into the water, holding you under as you thrashed against her. She was really trying to kill you, wasn’t she? She lifted your head out of the water, allowing you to cough and spit water out of your mouth before she pushed your head back under. At that moment, your mind went to Elvis. He was begging for you not to leave him, to stay and reign over Graceland with him.
You felt her hands release your hair and a pair of hands pulling you out of the water fountain. You coughed; water escaped your lungs as your eyes opened, seeing Elvis. The women were being held by the men who were in his circle, with looks of hatred across their faces as they held the flailing women in their arms. Elvis caressed your hair, whispering apologies for the harm that was done to you before declaring that their time of judgment shall be the Lord’s. Sobs passed your lips as you held on to Elvis’s arms, feeling safe as soon as those women were carted away. That night, Elvis allowed Sandra and Tamara to stay with you. You could overhear Sandra and Tamara whispering to each other about how Irene would be in so much trouble. Elvis didn’t take kindly to others aggravating his woman. His woman.
The next morning, Sandra and Tamara walked with you to the dining hall, where Elvis called everyone for an emergency meeting. Sandra and Tamara held your hands as the three of you walked inside the dining hall, your eyes finding Elvis standing at the head of his table. His eyes locked to yours, signaling for Sandra and Tamara to bring you up to the first table that was near him. “What’s going on, guys?” You asked them, your eyes never leaving Elvis as you neared the table. They smiled at you, not answering you as they helped you sit down before taking their seats beside you. It wasn’t long before the entire congregation was all together, waiting for the words from the messenger of God. Jerry raised his hand, signaling that Elvis needed everyone’s undivided attention. The chatter going around the room eventually quieted as Elvis stood up from his seat. “There has been a lot of talk about favoritism within the group because of one person.” His eyes fell on you as he took a deep breath.
“God brought Y/N to Graceland for a reason. She is MY other half. God brought her to ME to help lead you all. There have been some people who have an issue with what God has spoken, so therefore they will be punished according to the laws of God. At the Moon Festival, their sins shall be forgiven by God and by us! If you continue to pester Y/N, you will be held accountable. You will have to leave us and find your way back to civilization through the desert.” Elvis stepped down from his table, taking you by the hand before turning towards his congregation. “Y/N honey, I’m sorry. No one, and I mean no one, will bother you again.” Elvis’s blue eyes trained the crowd, his control was still over his congregation, and you felt it. You nodded your head, eyes still locked on only him. You truly felt like you belonged at Graceland with Sandra and Tamara. You felt like you belonged with Elvis.
That night after the meeting at the dining hall, you met with Elvis once again at the remembrance garden. You had never gotten around to looking around the place, but you were finally able to get to the gardens before Elvis. You walked along the pathway, looking at the names that were ingrained in the stones that littered the path. You were so enamored with the surroundings that you didn’t realize that Elvis stood behind you, watching you with a smile. Elvis loved how naive you were to the fact that you would soon be stuck with him—forever. You jumped when you collided with a hard surface, arms wrapping around your waist. You gasped but soon relaxed as you smelled the familiar scent of vanilla and musk, which you knew better than anyone. “Elvis.” You breathed out, turning around in his arms. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, pulling you closer to him.
“You finally made it here before me. What do you think of the place?” He took you by the hand as he led you up to the gazebo where you had met him for the first time all those weeks ago. You've been here for a month now, completely enamored by him. There was nothing that Elvis could do wrong in your eyes, even now. You haven’t seen Irene, Abigail, or any of the women who attacked you a while ago. You asked around Graceland, but no one would give you a straight answer. Sandra and Tamara would also avoid the questions, sometimes changing the subject to something happier. However, you didn’t miss how they looked whenever you brought up their names. “I love it; it’s beautiful. It’s like our own little hideaway spot.” You looked up at the stars, caught in the beauty as you were in your favorite place to be—Elvis’s arms.
It was finally getting closer to the Moon Festival. You couldn’t see Elvis as time winded down as he made it clear that he had to spend time with only God. You were okay with that as you spent time with Sandra and Tamara for those times. However, you wanted nothing more than to be with Elvis. The week of the Moon Festival, there was no sermon that week. Everyone was also being strange towards you because when you walked around Graceland, everyone would move out of your way with a bow of their head. You also haven’t seen Sandra and Tamara in days. You shook off the thought of them abandoning you to the Moon Festival. Everyone is just preparing, that’s all. Finally, the Moon Festival arrived, and you finally saw your friends. They came into the room with a look of happiness on their face as they told you that they had specific instructions to help you get ready for the festival.
Tamara brought in a white gown, almost gothic. The sleeves fit around your arms but were almost loose in a way. The belt around the waist was tied with laces, allowing the dress to fit comfortably around your waist. After they put the dress on your body, they start working on your hair—pinning it up while allowing a few strands to lay on your forehead. They placed a flower crown on your head, backing away from you as they looked at their masterpiece. You felt beautiful, more beautiful than you have ever felt in your life. You were excited to see what Elvis would have thought about the outfit that they put on you. “Are we all wearing the same thing?” You asked Sandra and Tamara, confused when they shook their heads with a smile. “No, my lady. Only you.” Sandra took you by the hands, holding them tightly. My lady? You brushed off the sentiment, turning to the mirror before turning back to them. Tamara spoke about leading you to the festival, where the ceremony would begin when the moon was in the sky. There were red flags about a religious sect having a ceremony when the moon was in full view, but you were more excited about seeing Elvis again.
You followed Sandra and Tamara to the church, where you noticed the congregation piling into the building. Suddenly, the same uneasy feeling that you had felt that day at the water fountain when you encountered Irene and her unhinged posse of women had returned. You hoped that you would not encounter them again, but seeing that the entire camp was walking into the church, you knew that anything was possible. You also noticed that you were dressed differently than the women as they wore darker colors compared to your pure, white dress that clung to your body flawlessly. This is indeed strange–all of this is strange. The voice in the back of your mind screamed to stop before it was too late. However, it was too late for you. You had been corrupted, wanting and needing more of Elvis as his presence clouded your purity. Elvis was everything that embodied corruption, but you didn’t understand just how much he had entered your mind. How much he moved throughout your bloodstream until you were here in this moment. As you walked closer to the church’s doors, Sandra moved from your side to where Jerry was standing. Tamara continued holding your hand as the doors opened for you, almost like a bride. You were suddenly scared, looking over at your friends as they seemed to be in a gaze that wasn’t like them.
The gaze that was over their face was as if they were not in their bodies. In front of you, there stood Elvis in his black button-up shirt, which had the first two buttons unbuttoned like usual. Covering his shoulders was a white fur coat, which made him stand out in the sea of darkness in his congregation. Everyone watched you as you walked down the aisle toward your lover; the calm that fell around the room was almost unnerving. Elvis was standing behind the altar, which was decorated much differently than usual, but you couldn’t tell what was missing. Elvis’s hand reached out for you, seemingly waiting for you to join his side. You placed your hand into his, his soft hands allowing you to relax under his touch. You were no longer scared, but the voice in the back of your head was still screaming for you to run, for you to never look back. You ignored it until it disappeared completely, eyes looking up at your lover with such adoration that couldn’t be hidden. Tamara and Sandra stood in the first row of the church, pulling the hoods over their heads until their face was hidden from you. This was awfully strange to you, but you kept your mouth closed until the door opened again. The men that often hung around Elvis were bringing a group of women inside the church. These women were the same women who attacked you days prior in the courtyard. Your heart sped up in your chest as you sunk into Elvis’s side.
Elvis leaned into your touch, whispering in your ear, “Everything is alright, ma petite. Their sin shall be paid tonight.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before moving closer to the altar. The words that were once loud in your head were nowhere to be found now, the beating of your heart pounding in your ears as you noticed Irene, who looked scared to death. Her eyes begged and pleaded for you to help her, but you were powerless against the pull that Elvis had over the entire camp. You then realized that this was not a church but a cult. This was not a festival but a sacrificial ceremony and Irene would soon be a sacrifice to God. Elvis could feel that you were uneasy, so he turned you to face him. “You want them to pay for their sins, right, my love? God is unpleased with them at the moment.” His tone was stern, but he still spoke to you like honey which made you melt in his arms. Your mouth moved before your brain could comprehend what you were really meaning. “Yes.” Elvis’s bright smile pulled across his lips as he turned towards two of his men, nodding his head at them. “Tie her down, Sonny.” He gritted out; his tone now sounded venomous. Irene’s screams echoed around the building, asking for her friends to help her, asking for anyone to help her, for you to help her. However, her friends that were in the courtyard that day were also being tied up along the long altar, but their pleas were unheard.
Elvis stood there proudly at the works of his men, raising his hand as they fell back in a line along with the others. “Tonight, the sins of these women who have strayed will be paid back to God. Our God is great, but he strikes his vengeance on those who stray away from his word. From my word.” His voice rang out with pure contempt as his eyes glared along the altar where Irene and her friends were struggling along the altar. He turned towards you, pulling you closer to the altar. “God has spoken to me! We will strike the hammer of vengeance upon these women, and then afterward, my darlin’ will become my wife. She will become my rib, worshiping God alongside me. Worshiping me.” The congregation cheered as they pulled out their daggers, chanting in Latin towards the altar. Elvis handed you the dagger that was in his knife holder before smiling at you once more. “Give our Lord his sacrifice in the name of our union, my wife. He shall bless us forever more.” You were in too deep now, but the brainwashing was complete for you. Hearing that you would become Elvis’s wife excited you more than you should have admitted.
Your feet carried you towards Irene, the screams of the other women echoing around the church as the congregation all took terms stabbing their daggers into their bodies. Their screams became weaker and weaker as their blood splattered on the cloaks that the congregation wore. Irene was the only one left as you inched closer to her, raising the dagger over your head. The power that you felt all over your body was invigorating like you had control over your choices for the very first time. You didn’t live for your mother or your father. You didn’t live for their expectations of your life. You lived for yourself. You lived for Elvis. You brought the dagger down—one. two. three… into the chest of Irene. Her screams died off quickly as you continued stabbing into her heart. The blood splattered on the dagger, drips falling on you and your white dress, bleeding into the material. The congregation stood before you, cheering as you turned towards Elvis, wanting him to be proud of you.
Elvis was indeed proud of you, pulling you by your arms, lips pressing to yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue pushed past your lips, tangling with your wet muscle as he moaned into your embrace. The room grew quiet as Jerry and Sandra brought in the wine and bread. Elvis pulled away from your lips, turning to the congregation who were waiting for his words. You didn’t realize that while you both were making out, the bodies of the women were now gone—burning in the fire that was in the remembrance garden. The remembrance garden was for their sacrifices, and Elvis wanted to meet with you so that you knew that he was willing to kill for you. This shouldn’t make you feel turned on, but it invigorates you more than you’d like. Elvis took the dagger from your hand, placing it on the table where the wine and bread sat. The congregation had long gone, leaving a few of his men who were guarding the doors. “My wife, we must consummate our union. God commands it.” His lips spoke softly as his lips pressed kisses along your jawline.
You melted into his arms, the flower crown hanging off your head from the recent activity of stabbing Irene. His hands rubbed up your sides, laying you down on the altar where Irene was laying, his hands moving up your dress. You were flying on clouds, your hips chasing his hands as they moved up your dress. He bunched up the material, pushing it up your waist as he continued kissing down your neck towards the bridge of your breasts. At this moment, your soul could have lifted out of your body as his fingers teased your core. The moans pouring out of your mouth were almost obscene as your hands pushed the fur coat that littered his shoulders off of him. Elvis reached up to the table, grabbing the dagger as he looked down at you, his smile melting you once again. The dagger in his hand was covered in Irene’s blood, dripping off of the tip on your lip. He groaned, pressing his lips to yours once again, his saliva and her blood mixing on your tongue. You sighed, opening your mouth as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. The dagger slid across your dress, cutting it open as the blood painted your body.
Elvis pulled away slightly, undoing his shirt before throwing it beside you. The dagger had opened your dress from the front, revealing your breasts. His tongue pulled out of your mouth, licking down your neck before stopping at the valley of your breasts. His tongue swirled around your nipple, the dagger in his other hand gently pressed against your other nipple. You gasped, arching your back into his touch, wanting more of him all at once. Your hands tangled into his black locks, pulling him closer to your chest. The ringing in your ears became unbearable as your hips buckled up against his crotch. Elvis pulled away from you, pushing your dress off of your body—discarding it where he would only know. “Your body was made for me. Only for me.” He moved the dagger down to your pelvis, running it over your hardened bud. His hand gripped your chin as he made you look at him, his tongue pressed against his cheek. “You’re already ready for me, lil’ mama. I haven’t even done anything. Was killing that harlot enough to satisfy you?” He taunted, moving the dagger up to the elastic of your panties, cutting it open before pulling it off of you with the tip of the dagger. He held up your panties so that you could see before stabbing them down on the altar floor. “My prize, after all..” He smirked, moving down to where your thighs were spread.
He pushed your thighs further apart, his tongue lapping a stripe across your pussy. Your back arched off of the altar, eyes rolling in the back of your head as if you were being touched by the Lord himself. He was worshiping you like you were gifted to him personally. Elvis groaned at your arousal filling his mouth, flickering his tongue around your pulsing bud—chasing after your sweetness. The feeling of flying was nothing compared to the feeling of Elvis’s mouth kissing your body. His tongue fucked into you, his fingers now rubbing your clit as he savored every bit of you. You needed more than his mouth. You needed him. All of him. Your hands could not reach down to his slacks, tugging at the top of his belt. Elvis smirked against your pussy, pulling away—arousal glistening on his lips. He sat on his legs, nodding his head at you. Elvis was giving you the cue to take what you needed. Your hands reached up to his belt, undoing it before unzipping his slacks. He stood up and away from you, taking his pants off of his hips along with the boots that littered his feet. He stood in front of you like a God, commanding you to worship him and that you were going to do. You tugged his briefs down, wrapping your hands around his cock–rubbing the precum dripping from his tip. Your eyes watered from happiness, tears gliding down your cheeks as you jerked his cock slightly.
He was becoming impatient, bucking his hips towards your lips. “Don’t you tease me, baby,” He began, seemingly reading how needy you were also becoming. Your lips wrapped around his angry tip, him salty on your tongue. His fingers laced into your hair, pushing himself deeper into your mouth until the tip hit the back of your throat. You gagged, eyes watching him from behind your eyelashes as your eyes water. The salty tears streamed down your face as Elvis slowly began fucking into your throat. His moans pushed you through as spit fell from the corner of your lips, making a mess of you. Your makeup was now ruined, your face wet with tears and your own saliva as your throat became another hole for his cock. He pulled away from you, tilting your head up as he looked into your puffy wet eyes. “You are well on your way, my wife. God is pleased, and so am I.”
You were pushed back on the altar, the stickiness of the blood now against your bare skin, but you were only focused on him. Elvis grabbed his erection, rubbing the tip between your lower lips as his lips pressed to yours in a chaste kiss. You were so needy for him and his touch that your hips were bucking against his erection wildly. He laughed, pushing inside of you slowly. You haven’t been touched in this way before, a pure virgin in your own right. The pain spread over your body, but you knew that it was only temporary. Elvis knew that you were meant to be deflowered by him and only him, pacing himself so that he wouldn’t ruin the experience for you both. As if you both lie there for what seems like hours, the pain subsides but is soon replaced with the feeling of pleasure. Elvis could feel you spread open for him, pushing himself deeper inside of you. As he filled you to the hilt, your hands gripped his biceps–nails digging into his skin, creating crescent shapes. Your eyes were shut tightly, your bottom lip between your teeth as you continued to get comfortable with this new sensation of being filled. “Eyes on me, lil’ mama. Eyes on the pleasure I will give you.” Your eyes immediately opened, locking on his now onyx hues that were burning deep into your soul.
Elvis knew what to do to bring you pleasure, this not being the first time that he had been intimate with a woman. However, those other women were not sent to him by God. His hips swiveled in a circle as his cock rubbed against your walls. The moans that were passing through your lips were like angels singing to him; he needed to hear more of it. His hips pulled back, his cock pulling out of you fully before he pushed back into you again. As he moved his cock in and out of you, he remembered the neglected wine and communal bread that sat on the table beside the both of you. He reached up to the table, grabbing the communal bread as he fucked you into the altar that was just used for sacrifice. “Open wide, my rib. For we are one.” He spoke, watching your lips part slightly. He bit into the bland cracker, leaving the rest resting between his lips as he pressed his lips to yours, encouraging you to take the other half. As you received the communal bread, Elvis’s hips pushed into your spot, causing you to arch your back into his body–still holding on to his arms as if he was the only one who could keep you together. You chewed the cracker, your mouth becoming dry as the moans died on your tongue. His hands rubbed up your body before they disappeared once again, but this time he was grabbing the wine glass. He sat up before pulling you up to sit in his lap. Your hips moved on his lap as you began to ride him while he held you in his arms. You watched as he gulped down some of the wine, his hand resting on your throat as he pressed the glass to your lips. You opened your mouth, still swiveling your hips on his lap as the wine passed through your lips, sliding smoothly down your throat.
The remnants of wine that couldn’t fit in your mouth dripped out down your jaw, but Elvis wouldn’t have any of it wasted. His tongue lapped up the wine that was dripping down your jaw, moaning into your skin as his hips thrust harder into you. Your moans became louder and louder, echoing off of the walls of the church as your arms moved up his body before resting on his shoulders. You were corrupted completely, needing Elvis to save you from the hell that plagued your existence. Elvis gave you so much pleasure, both physically and spiritually, that you had long forgotten that you had murdered Irene or that the congregation had participated as well. Elvis bit into your shoulder, drawing a little bit of blood as he continued his assault on you. You hissed, rubbing your hands down his chest–fingers brushing against his nipples. Elvis hissed in pleasure as he lapped up the blood that came from the bite before pressing his lips to yours again. The taste of copper mixed with the sweetness of the wine allows the taste to be both sweet and tangy. You weren’t ashamed to say that you loved it and needed more.
His hand gripped the base of your neck between your chin and your throat as you continued bouncing on his lap. The whimpers were out of control now as your stomach started to tighten–the pleasure becoming unbearable. Elvis could feel that you were close, speeding up his thrusts into you as he whispered, ‘come on, come on baby,’ in your ear. You didn’t need much more prodding as you came undone on his lap, your hips shaking uncontrollably as your pussy clenched around his cock. Your pussy clenching around him made him growl as he sucked on your ear lobe, following behind you as you milked him for all he was worth. You held on to his shoulders as he came inside of you, his hips losing the pace that he had. “Oh, goddamn baby. Goddamn.” You giggled, silently scolding him for using the Lord’s name in vain. “That’s not holy of you, my husband.” You pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Elvis’s cerulean hues looked over your face once again before he stood up with you in his arms.
You were dripping his cum out of you as he grabbed a white laced robe from the podium before wrapping it around your body. He sat you down on the ground, grabbing the similar robe as yours before putting it on your body. He grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before leading you off to his room. Inside of his room, you were amazed at what you saw. The room was as if you were in heaven or the way you pictured heaven to be. The bed was white along with everything else that littered the room. He pushed open a door, which revealed his bathroom which was very spacious. The bath water seemed to have been sitting there not too long, rose petals littered the water. “Care to join me, my wife?” He pushed the robe off of his shoulders before climbing into the tub. You hurriedly pushed the white robe that was now bleached with the blood of Irene off of your body, climbing into the warm water. The blood that was stuck to your body had now slid off, changing the water red. Elvis seemed to not care as he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you into his body.
Elvis grabbed the bar of soap as he scrubbed your body, seemingly being gentle in places that he bit and scratched. You hissed as the soap burned on your shoulder where he had bitten, but the pain felt good. You turned around in the tub, rubbing your fingers up his chest–fingers resting among the chest hair. “What now?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled his lips to yours in a kiss. He pulled away slightly, tilting your head up to look at him. “We lead our congregation according to God’s will.” He was so sure that he had everything that he ever needed now that he made you his woman. Once you were back to looking like his pure angel, he washed his body–not allowing you to do it for him. He told you to relax as he wasn’t done with you just yet. Once the dried blood and sex was washed off of both of your bodies, he got out of the water before drying himself off. His hand reached out to you, helping you out of the water as well before wrapping your body with a plush robe. He led you back to the bedroom, opening the wardrobe that sat near the bathroom door.
Inside of the wardrobe was his things and newer things for you. It was all starting to hit you all at once that you were now his–permanently. You pulled on a white babydoll nightie before climbing into his bed. The sheets felt wonderful on your skin as you slid under the covers, eyes watching his every move. You were no longer lost, but you had found your forever home with Sandra, with Tamara, and now with Elvis. Elvis climbed into bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. He ran his fingers through your hair as he started to sing hymns in your ear. You never knew Elvis could sing, but there were things that you didn’t know about him until you were standing at the altar, stabbing someone in their heart. You were truly stuck like a insect in a spider’s web, but you were in no hurry to try to escape. As far as you were concerned, you were his wife and he, your husband. God had brought you two together, even if it was in a messed up situation. Lying on his chest, you were sure that your forever home was in his arms. So as you fell asleep in his arms that night, you could only think about how you would continue on with your life from this point. You had some things to learn if you wanted to help Elvis lead his congregation to God. You had to first look within yourself and become the perfect other half that Elvis needed. You had decided at that moment that you didn’t have parents at home who were probably desperately searching for you. All you had was Elvis and in your messed up mind, that was enough.
Taglist: @headfullofpresley @aconflagrationofmyown @lovininapinkcadillac @loving-elvis @lindszeppelin @literally-just-elvis-fics @stitchattacks @venus-haze @sournatromanoff @steph-speaks @stephthestallion @ab4eva @missmaywemeetagain @star-shard @eliseinmemphis @bisexualwvtson @troubleinapinksuit @oh-my-front-door @oh-kurva @rainydayz101 @foreverdolly
#cult leader!elvis#elvis 2022#elvis presley#elvis presley x reader#elvis x reader#yandere!elvis x reader#austin!elvis x reader#yandere!elvis#happy halloween#elvis aaron presley#elvis smut#austin!elvis smut#elvis fanfiction#elvis fanfic#daisy speaks
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The Skeleton War - Elvis Division
(Picture by Kevin Betzer, posted in The Culture New Orleans Facebook group)
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October 31, 1957
At designer Sy Devore's Halloween party held at Lucy's New Orleans restaurant in Los Angeles with actress Jeanne Carmen, dressed as a "squaw" and actress Joan Bradshaw (first three photos) - The colour photo shows Jeanne Carmen, unknown and Gloria Pall. The last photo is with actress Allison Hayes and Sy Devore. Thanks to Tony at FECC for the colour shot and The Fool for the clip from the February 1958 issue of Movie Life magazine.
#elvisaaronpresley#elvispresley#elvis#graceland#elvis history#elvishistory#tcb#elvis fans#elvis presley#elvis the pelvis#elvis music#elvis the king#50s elvis#halloween#1957#jeanne carmen#joan bradshaw#gloria pall#allison hayes
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#austin butler#halloween#celebs#retro#2007#pumpkin#october#jack o lantern#guys#los angeles#actor#movies#the oc#socal#the bikeriders#dune part two#elvis#film#👽 👾 🎃
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lotta true crime
pairing: serialkiller!austin x reader
summary: serial killer Austin kidnaps reader who has a podcast about true crime with her friends cus she saw something she shouldn't
trigger warnings: mentions of murder and well death kidnapping Stockholm syndrome.. mentions of various serial killers talk of blood and knifes psychotic thinking... and smut in the next chapters last but not least my shitty writing
authors note: AAAH HALLOWEEN KICK OF HERE WE GOOOO it's spooky month so here is serial killer Austin on the way to make you all swoon. hehe hehe please i swear i'm sane and honestly if you cant handle this subject please leave it and don't pay anymind to it
special tag: @asshlyyyyy
Part 2 here
It was currently 3 am in down town LA and Austin was out looking for another victim. He couldn’t help it he never understood what was wrong with him and after a while he stopped caring he liked who he was. Even if that meant he hurt people it made him feel some type of way….
He knew it was bad and that he shouldn’t feel that way but he does and that damn podcast wasn’t helping one singular bit. He didn’t care about her friends he would’ve killed all of them in an instant if they were ever to cross pads but her….
It was all about her. He put on the latest episode of your podcast. It usually started with your friends bitching about men like bundy….. or Ramirez…. But you… you seemed to understand him. He sighed as he heard your friend speak up again
“I mean I hope this doesn’t seem to impolite but Ted Bundy was just never that fucking bright he was just sorta charismatic and white and he was so fucking sure he had the right but he’s ugly and I’m glad he’s dead because there was no fucking candle in his pumpkin he wasn’t special for winning his game with women who never even played they could’ve have killed him.” Her annoying voice ran trough his air pods…
and then you spoke up “well I mean I’m sure it went deeper than that I’m sure there is a more psychological reason your missing here… he had a pattern and I-“. You were cut off again by your other friend.
“There’s a new killer in town…” she said as Austin looked up from his phone a bit surprise… could it be “they call him the butler killer or something he prints out anything bad his victims do.. and then he sighs it “butler” that’s all that’s it…* she said and Austin smirked ever so lightly to himself.. they were talking about him he waited for your response kinda nervous as if your opinion really meant something to him.
“Hm… butler killer” you hummed and he smirked to himself. He never met you but he just felt connected as if you knew what he was thinking the whole time and then he heard you speak up again.
“Hm so he kills people who like kill or hurt others… there’s gotta be some good childhood trauma for that..but he isn’t big enough to talk about in the media … yet interesting “ you said and Austin smiled proudly to himself. He was proud of you, you were his clever girl even tho you don’t know that yet.
If you were thinking in theorie which he knew you did you’d probably be on your phone googling what ever you could find about him. Your friend her annoying voice ran through his headphones again as he let out a low groan.
She just needed to run her mouth again as always if she wasn’t careful enough she might get herself killed one of these days…. “So what does this guy do? Does he kill butlers” she laughed that annoying laugh.
He heard You sigh softly and speak up again “no amber this article says that the killer leaves business cards at the crime scene with the name butler on it and the sin of his victims on the back of the card, police hasn’t found any other evidence at the crime scene whatsoever” you read to them ever so effortlessly from your phone.
As Austin smiles proudly to him self of-course his little bunny wouldn’t disappoint.. and of course he wouldn’t be stupid enough to be leaving evidence behind you see. That’s one thing he didn’t have in-common with other serial killers whatsoever his work didn’t get sloppy. He always made sure to wear gloves and hide his face.
The sound of your voice died out for a bit as your friends went on and on.. until you spoke up again “he uses a knife.. “
you said “there have been no signs of gun powder and no one ever heard a bang so my theory is that he uses a knife to avoid brains flying around… or any organs seeing that’d leave a bigger mess than a knife he likes to prevent the mess from happening he’s a clean killer.. also his name… maybe it’s not about who he kills he kills people who sinned here cheating wife… fraud ect ect I don’t think he’s a butler tho maybe maybe it had something to do with his name” you said.
He smirked at him self that was his clever girl he agreed with your theorie about the knife seeing ge never used a gun because of how loud it would get and it’s more traceable Austin liked working clean. He wasn’t like others he had feelings he knew how to feel hurt and sad and angry.
But what about Happy….. in full honesty he hadn’t been happy in a while… it had been a long long while since he had been happy.
And the theorie about his name was even more brilliant. You did your research he’d give you that much. He leaned back in his car seat putting his feed upon the dash board. As he listened to your voice once again.
“It almost seems like… like he’s following the 10 commandments honor your father and mother his first victims were two teens who set up their parents for their money and then his second victim was a neighbor who gave a false testimony against another neighbor…. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor and here… cheating wife found dead while lover was still inside her … thy shall not commit adultery… and the most resent one was a man who stole billions from the company he worked for… thou shalt not steal” you said as your friends spoke again.
He was kinda dumbstruck honestly it was like you knew all of his moves all his thoughts that’s why you were his bunny you understood him… if he wouldn’t know better you’d be a killer yourself.
But he knew nothing more than your name and that you went too the same college.. he spoke in your criminology class a view times your professor mentioned your podcast. That’s how he found his bunny but you wouldn’t remember him for the life of you. And he knew that
At around 4:00 o’clock the podcast ended and that’s when Austin spot his next victim a boy about 19 years old who killed a little girl in a hit and run… thy shall not murder so it was Austin his time to make him pay. Little did he know you were walking home.
You walked through the alley way he was in just about to finish it he took his mask of. As you approach them your blood ran cold.
Austin looked up quickly and cursed to himself before you could let out a scream he grabbed your waist and pulled you. Around the corner his hand covering your moth and the tip of his knife. Pointing into your stomach with a bit of pressure
“Wouldn’t scream if I were you little bunny.” He whispered in your ear. And the last thing you felt was a hit to the head and then everything turned black
But little did he know that one night would change his whole life…
this is halloween everybody make a scene
part one out of 5 of lotta true crime let me know what you guys think
love j xxx
#austin butler#x reader#austin butler imagine#austin butler x reader#elvis movie#austin butler fanfiction#elvis 2022#austin butler elvis#austinbutler!elvisxreader#elvis presley#austin butler smut#austin!elvis#austin!elvis x reader#austin!elvis smut#halloween#serial killer austin
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