Heyyyyy Sunny baby! So listen, congratulations on hitting 2.5K! I couldn’t imagine it happening to a better person.
So I have a request for mafia boss!Elvis (preferably 70s era if that’s okay with you!)
21. “Touch her and you’re dead.”
16. “You shoot anyone that comes through the door who isn’t me.”
And I would like the forbidden love trope as well!
Something about mafia boss!elvis and the forbidden love trope sounds hot to me. I love you baby! Congratulations again!
-Daisy (@powerofelvis)
𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 | 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚!𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
prompts: "you shoot anyone that comes through the door who isn't me" and "touch her and you're dead." with forbidden love trope.
word count: 2.1k
song: i got a feelin' in my body - elvis presley
notes/warnings: SMUT! brief talk of violence. elvis owns you and your pussy, but he worships the ground that you walk on. you've got him majorly pussy whipped. thank you so so much, daisy! i hope you enjoy this.
You were guilty of overlooking every rotten thing that your lover had ever done- which was a lot. Your ole’ man wasn’t a very good man, but he owned you. Heart and soul, he owned you. Your existence before Elvis felt so far off- like it had been a past life. You weren’t sure how you even functioned before you had a great big man to warm your bed at night and scare away all the monsters.
You were guilty of overlooking every rotten thing that your lover had ever done- which was a lot. Your ole’ man wasn’t a very good man, but he owned you. Heart and soul, he owned you. Your existence before Elvis felt so far off- like it had been a past life. You weren’t sure how you even functioned before you had a great big man to warm your bed at night and scare away all the monsters.
The Sunset Strip used to be your stomping grounds. You made a name for yourself there, what with your good looks and submissive disposition. One day you were doing a private dance for a good looking stranger that was dressed to the nines, and the next day you were holed up in the penthouse of his luxurious hotel room, breeding like rabbits and kissing until both of your lips felt raw.
Elvis loved adorning you in diamonds and blood rubies. He made sure your hair and nails were done at all times, bought you all of the latest designer collections- you were a prize, and he treated you as such. His prize. The man, regardless of his cold exterior, belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him. You had him wrapped around your little finger. The power that you had over the boss was remarkable. All it took was a singular heated gaze from across a busy room, and in the blink of an eye he would be tugging you into the nearest bathroom, ripping at your chiffon skirt with eager hands.
Your name hung from his neck on a solid gold chain, the lettering inlaid with diamonds. He had one made for you as well- ELVIS spelled out in bulky letters. He loved to joke around and say that it was your collar. He’d often tug your face closer to his by hooking one of his long fingers underneath the chain. You loved feeling the heat of his cigar and peppermint scented breath, paired with the cold metal bite of the thick chain pressing nto your neck and he pulled you up, up, up. Elvis either fucked you like he hated you or made love to you as though you were made of silk stretched thin over porcelain.
It drove him crazy, but he loved being mean to you. Loved biting into your skin to leave claim marks deep enough to draw blood. You’d yelp and thrash, scratching at his exposed flesh, all while he’d stay deeply buried inside of you. Marking you. Claiming you. Owning you. He’d apologize afterwards with strong calloused hands stroking gently at your hips, his skilled tongue flattened against your abused pussy.
Your ole’ man was harsh and cruel. He loved striking first and getting even. He believed that pain and death were two of the greatest motivators in life. He held strong to his convictions, maintaining that certain things weren’t deserved but earned.
Life being one of them.
Elvis rarely messed up. His ideas were usually reckless- the thoughts of a mad man- but everything always worked in his favor. He was an evil genius, his mind only working in absolutes.
You were lounging on the king sized bed, your long legs stretched out behind you, your head popped up on your elbow. You enjoyed watching Elvis work. You liked the way his long fingers rubbed against the barrel of his gun as he polished his collection. You liked the deep rumble of his voice, like lightning before a storm, when he was barking orders at someone over the phone. You liked it when his blue eyes turned glacial when something didn’t go exactly his way- the murderous aura that overcame his built stature.
He was all powerful. He had a penchant for torture. He didn’t believe in “forgiving and forgetting”. He feared no one and nothing.
And he was yours.
“And what the fuck do they want?” He leaned back into the red velvet desk chair, boredly staring out the window and down at the view of the city. He owned half of it.
You watched him with heavy lidded eyes, your limbs still shaky and unstable after an hour of incessant pounding from the tops of Elvis’s muscled thighs. Usually he stayed in bed long enough to watch his cum drip out of your spent cunt, lazily scooping the warm seed up with two fingers only to shove it back inside.
Keep it where it belonged.
There was something about tonight's conversation with one of his lackeys, Lamar, that felt off to you though.
“Tell Frank that if he tries to get anywhere close to me that we’re gonna have’a problem,” A heated pause, and then Elvis was slamming his large fist down onto his oak table. “I’ll blow his fuckin’ brains out. You tell him that verbatim, got it?” He slammed the black telephone back down onto the receiver, stretching out his long legs before letting out a troubled groan.
“Baby,” He mumbled as he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, giving them a few exhausted rubs. “Imma need you to get dressed.” He braced his hands on his knees, letting out a small groan before he was up and moving, one of his shoulders popping when he stretched his long arms up and over his head.
You dragged yourself up to a sitting position, strands of hair falling off of your shoulder, a few flyaways falling into your face. He wanted so badly to lay you back down on the bed and hold you until you fell asleep. Maybe push himself inside of you up to the hilt, just so that you could warm his cock while you slept.
But tonight was going to be different.
Tonight he’d have to teach a few rookies a lesson before he could turn in for the night. He was getting old, and the last time he checked the clock it was nearing midnight. He was tired, and because of that he was extra grumpy.
He lit up a cigar before reaching into the large walk in closet for the closest shirt. He wasn’t shocked to find that it was a black button up- nearly everything he owned was black. He didn’t bother tucking the material into his trousers before he walked into the living room to slide on the pair of shoes that he had been wearing earlier in the night- before you had slyly cupped him through his pants the moment the both of you had gotten back to dinner.
“What's wrong?” You called out to him from the bedroom, untangling your limbs from the satin bed sheets and stumbling into the closet. You put on the nearest lacey nightgown, ripping one of your robes off its hanger to pull on as well.
“Frank and a few of his men are bein’ nice enough to pay me a visit, that’s all. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He shrugged on the leather holster vest, tightening the belts at his chest before loading them up with guns. He slipped a few magazines into his pockets, just to be safe.
He loved watching you dress- but almost everything you did turned him on. The bullets jingled in his pockets as he leaned against the french doors that connected the living room to his private quarters. You could spit in his face and he’d be rearing and ready to teach you a lesson.
He worshiped you.
Which is exactly why he had to keep you protected.
He crossed his strong arms over his chest after he folded up the sleeves to his forearms, the tattoo of his family crest now on full display. “You’re gonna hate me for this,” He started, licking his plush lips before continuing. “But imma need you to get in the closet and close the door, honey. Whatever ya hear out here. . . don’t come out until ya hear me tell you to.”
Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as you stared at him from across the room, your heart already thundering in your ears. “I-I can’t just stay with-”
“No!” He barked, causing you to jump in shock. He never raised his voice at you. “This is gonna be bad. "Brains smeared on the walls” sorta bad, lil one.”
You sucked in a breath, your joints locking up in panic. He could tell that you were starting to spiral, and so he took a few long strides to get to you, pressing a few quick pecks against your already kiss-swollen lips.
“There’s a couple’a guns in the closet. They’re all loaded. I want ya to shoot anyone that comes through these doors that ain’t me.”
You nodded your head, shakily turning around to face the closet door.
“Use your big girl words. I want to hear that you understand.”
“I understand, Elvis.”
The dyed brunette heard the closet door shut, and he was quick to close the french doors, only shapes and blurry colors visible behind the frosted glass windows. Almost on cue the door to the suite slammed open, the doorknob going straight through the drywall of the entryway. The man’s eye twitched, one of his guns already in his hand. He felt the cool metal- the weight of the weapon.
It was all familiar, just like going back to Memphis.
Happiness can be found in a warm gun. When his finger is on the trigger, no one can do him any harm. Elvis could shoot a hole straight through a quarter from half a mile away.
He was God with a revolver.
“What the fuck has you bargin’ into my home at midnight, Frank? Did your wife leave ya? Maybe you want to park your sorry ass on my couch.” Elvis used his free hand to push back a few strands of hair that had fallen onto his forehead.
Frank growled, flashing his clenched teeth at the younger male that stood across from him.
“I know you took it. Don’t play dumb, you hick.”
Elvis took a deep breath in through his nose to cool down the heat that was building in his chest. He acted too quickly on his anger- it was something that he was working on.
“Frankie, I ain’t got the time’a be arguin’ like this. Either tell me why you’re here or get the hell out.” He could have been balls deep in your pussy again by now if it wasn’t for the rude interruption.
“Someone stole a hundred pounds of product from one of our warehouses last night, and I know it was you.”
Elvis stood there stoically, his face completely void of any emotion as he let the other male’s words sink in. After a few seconds the corner of his lip turned up into a small smirk. Then it evolved into a grin.
Before Frank could understand what was going on, Elvis was clutching at his stomach, throwing his head back with loud laughter that echoed around the room.
“F-Frankie Boy, I had no clue you were such’a comedian.” He wiped at one of his eyes with the back of his hand, as if to rid himself of a tear. “You think that I, Elvis fuckin’ Presley, would steal a measly one hundred pounds. . . from you? I could own you and your entire family four times over. You’re nothin’ to me. Nothin’ but’a speck on a whole map’a pricks.”
Frank and the two sons at his side bristled with anger. Elvis didn’t flinch when he heard the sound of a gun’s safety being clicked off. He didn’t even bat an eye in their direction.
“Then who the fuck took it?” Frank asked through clenched teeth, the veins in his forehead bulging.
Elvis thought that the old man’s fat head might explode, especially if he kept tensing up like that.
“Maybe ya should check out the nearby gas stations. I’m sure some junkie had a field day., is all”
And Elvis was right. He hadn’t been the one to steal the product. . . but he did check out one of Frank’s warehouses. He preferred to keep an eye on his competition.
Elvis didn’t invite the homeless man into the building. . . but he hadn’t exactly locked the door back behind himself when he left.
“If you don’t start talking, Presley. . . I’ll carve that pretty littl-”
Elvis might have been an older man, but he was still far faster and stronger than most men that were fifteen years his junior. He’d been in this game a very long time. Before Frank could even finish the sentence, Elvis had one arm wrapped around his throat, his other hand holding a smoking gun.
The three men had been too shocked to have even heard the gunshot ring out in the penthouse. All they could do was blink dumbly at each other.
That was before the pain kicked in, anyway.
The shortest of Frank’s sons dropped to the floor, screaming out and clutching his shattered knee. The gun was already pointed at Frank’s other son before they could even recover from the surprise.
Elvis pressed his lips against Frank’s ear and spoke through clenched teeth, tightening his hold around his throat. The room plummeted into silence, the only sound behind the boy’s whimpers of pain and the deep sound of the mob boss’s voice.
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29 & 49, austin!tex, dark romance. I basically want more in that same universe as your other austin!tex work honey
𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐒 | 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧!𝐭𝐞𝐱 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
prompt: "I can't. . .please. . . I can't take it anymore." and "good boy."
word count: 2.5k
song: cinnamon girl - neil young
notes/warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT! a rosary is used for. . . stuff. this fic is absolutely filthy good lord. tex legit worships you and thinks of you as his own personal goddess. i hope you love this, baby.
Not before Tex, that is.
Not before Tex, that is.
Again and again, he had proved to you that he would never do anything that might put you in danger. You were the one thing in the world that he really wanted to protect. He’d been spiraling before he met you. He had been searching for a purpose, and now that he had found one? He wasn’t willing to ever let that go. Let you go.
You knew that Tex was ultimately stronger and more capable in a fight, so he’d easily be able to keep you there with him even if you weren’t willing to stay. Yes, you had been taken against your will- but that didn’t mean that you had no control. If anything, you’d never felt more powerful in your life.
Because Tex depended on you for happiness.
You weren’t too far gone not to notice how unhealthy the relationship between you two was. It was codependent and it was unpredictable- but it was also passionate and real. He hadn’t been a very good person before he met you. He was pretty evil, actually.
But he treated you like a Goddess. The man prayed to you before bed each night. You were his entire world.
Maybe it was wrong of you to love it so much, but you did. It had been impossible not to fall in love with Tex.
It felt nice getting away from the ranch for a few hours some nights. Both you and Tex were still formulating a grand scheme to get out of that house and away from Charlie. Though neither of you would say it, you knew that getting out as soon as possible was the best idea.
The two of you would climb into whatever car was available and drive thirty minutes further up the mountain. The view was beautiful up there at night, what with all the stars and sprawling farmland.
You hadn’t bothered asking whose car you were in when Tex hurriedly led you outside, excitedly jingling some car keys with his free hand.
It was an old, weather worn truck. It had probably once been a beautiful mint green color, but now it was spotted with rust and small scratches. Still, the old thing started up without a problem when Tex turned the key. Smalltalk was hard when all the two of you did was spend time together.
Surprisingly, Tex was fond of deeper, more intimate topics of conversation. He asked about whether or not having a family was important to you. He talked to you about theology and music. He talked about things that had happened in his past, and that those things most likely contributed to the way that he had turned out. How he had run into Charlie and got tied up in all of that mess.
It was Tex’s desperate yearning for a family that led him on his current path of death and destruction.
He was trying to change. Now whether it was because he genuinely disliked who he had become or solely to please you, you still weren't sure.
Dropping acid in an old, rundown truck probably wasn’t a good idea. Especially since you were just off of the main dirt road. Tex had turned the headlights off, but anyone could bump into you on the way to their homes. You were too busy looking at Tex to really care too much though.
His black dyed hair was starting to get even longer, his chestnut brown hair now visible at the roots. He was perfect with his big blue eyes and bubblegum lips. It was hard to keep your hands off of each other whenever you did any sort of drugs, especially psychedelics. All of your senses were heightened, and his skin somehow felt velvet soft against your fingers. You pressed your thumb against his lower lip, dragging it down ever so slightly so that you could get a better look at his lower teeth. One of his lower canines was slightly crooked, but other than that his teeth were perfectly straight.
“I’ve never had one cavity in my life. I’ve been mighty blessed, I think.” He mumbled, his chest vibrating with each word.
You were straddling him in the driver's side of the car, one of your knees tucked against the doorframe and the other one pressed against the armrest. You’d somehow ended up in his lap just a few seconds after the LSD kicked in. It was almost instantaneous with tabs. You’d learned to brace yourself for the odd wavy visuals.
“Very blessed.” You nodded your head, biting your lower lip as you tried to keep yourself from smiling.
Tex seemed to notice, his own lips pulling up into a wide grin to match yours. His palm had been resting on the middle of your back, but suddenly became aware of the fact that he was now brushing his hand up and down your side absentmindedly. Your entire body broke out in chills. He noticed the way you shivered, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Does that feel good?” He asked, blue eyes flickering down to your lips and then back up to stare into your eyes.
You managed to nod, your hands moving up his chest and over his broad shoulders. It was his turn to shiver then, his grip on you tightening, pulling you further into his lap. Your fingers slipped under the collar of his shirt, feeling the skin of his back.
Some days there was nothing to do around the house to pass the time aside from fucking. Listening to album after album while smoking pot was only fun for a limited amount of time, and there was nothing left to do except to chase a different sort of high. You couldn’t count how many times you and Tex had sex over the two months that you had been staying with him. Some days it was nonstop. The second that he caught his second wind he was pulling you back into the room that the two of you shared.
Even after all of that though, it still hasn't lost its novelty. Your fingers explored the expanse of his chest like it was a foreign land, tracing each scar like you were making a roadmap out of them. And he was beautiful in the pale light of the moon. He was staring up at you as though you were some prophet, sent down to lead him to a new world.
A better world.
One by one, the two of you began to peel off articles of clothing, not caring where anything ended up. The man took advantage of the unusual height difference, leaning forward so that he could place an opened mouth kiss directly in the middle of your chest. His long eyelashes brushed against your collarbone, his long hair tickling your shoulder as he moved down, down, down.
And then he was cupping your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands.
“I’m so glad that these are mine.” He spoke so softly that you could barely make out what he was saying.
There was nothing in the world that beat the feeling of Tex being seated up inside of you. You could feel every inch of him practically in your stomach, pushing up against your insides. It was deliciously painful now that you were on top, pushing him even deeper than usual. Tex had barely pulled down his jeans, in too much of a hurry to feel all of you to worry about his clothes. His belt buckle was digging into the sensitive skin of your thigh as you moved your hips against his.
You didn’t care enough to tell him that it hurt, because you were positive that it would leave a mark. And you wanted that. Every bruise, bite mark or scratch was worn with pride. They were constant reminders that the both of you belonged to each other.
Tex was usually the dominant one. He enjoyed taking care of you in bed. Being in control was something that he preferred. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust you to take the reins, but because he enjoyed watching your expressions. He loved pounding into your small, soft little body and listening to your sounds of pleasure knowing that he was the one that was causing it all. It was hard for him to do much of anything other than fuck up into you, meeting you halfway as you raised up and down on your knees.
Your thighs were burning and quivering, but you didn’t care. Suddenly you understood just what was so good about being on top. Tex was a blubbering mess, his eyes blown out wide, cheeks a bright pink as he tried to control his breathing. Still, you continued to move against him, even when he gently began tapping at your hip, trying to silently communicate with you that he was close.
You didn’t care. You even moved his hands away from sides when he tried to stop you, moving your hips even faster against his.
“O-Oh fuck-” He panted, out, his hand clumsily bumping into the armrest as he tried to grip onto something- anything as the pleasure kept building.
You recognized that look in his eyes. Knew he was about to cum- but you wanted it.
“H-Honey. . .” He was trying to warn you and try to get you to stop.
But he was too high and it all felt too good. Your hips were moving relentlessly against his, and your pussy was so warm and tight around him. He pressed his face into your chest as he climaxed, repeating your name again and again like it was some broken prayer. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, pumping you full. Warming you up from the insides. You didn’t stop moving against him though. Even when you were sure that he was finished.
He was a shaking mess, his eyes filled with tears as he pulled his face away from your chest so that he could look at your face. He looked pitiful, still shaking with the aftershocks of his climax as you continued using his oversensitive dick.
“I can’t- please. . . I can’t take it anymore.” He was begging you.
Despite his tears and twitching muscles, he didn’t make any move to try and get you off of him. He could have lifted you easily.
You could feel that all too familiar tightening in your abdomen, and telltale sign that you weren’t too far off. Tex must have felt you tightening around him, because his hands, albeit a little shaky, moved to your hips. He helped you move on top of him, clenching his teeth and staring up at you. He was watching your face intently, wanting to watch you fall apart.
“I-If you’re a good boy then I’ll reward you.” You panted out, bracing a hand on his bare chest. You were finding it hard to move anymore, the pleasure starting to render your limbs useless.
The brunette’s blue eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose.
“You’re gonna reward me by comin’ on my cock? I know I’ve got more cum to give you, so please. Keep goin’. Don’t stop.” He had such a filthy mouth. He never had a problem with telling you exactly how he felt.
Normally you would have said something to him to egg him on, but the promise of being packed full with even more of his seed had you falling over the edge. His large hand reached up and gripped onto your throat as he felt your walls clench down hard around him, keeping your face tilted down so that he could see it.
See your precious lips part and your eyes roll back.
“G-God you’re so hot. Holy fuck.” The urge to squeeze your throat even tighter was overwhelming. Because you were just so soft and small compared to him. The urge to hurt you in bed was overwhelming sometimes. He wanted to leave bruises. Wanted to claim you in as many ways as he possibly could.
It was your turn to be oversensitive. Tex continued his assault, thrusting his hips up into you as you loomed above him, trying to breathe through the comedown of your climax. He wasn’t going to give you even a second to rest though, because now he had an end goal. He wanted to cum inside of you twice without pulling out, and then enjoy the sheer amount of himself that was bound to pour out of that well loved pussy of yours. Your moans of pleasure were growing in volume, and the brunette was sure that he had seen a house less than a mile up the road. The last thing he needed was to get the cops called on the both of you, and so with frantic hands he tried to find something that he could use to muffle your screams.
In his desperate searching his finger tugged at a long string of beads that had been haphazardly hung over the rearview mirror. The clasp gave out easily, the necklace tumbling down into the passenger seat. It was good enough for him. He gathered the long necklace up into his hand before shoving some of it into your mouth along with two of his long fingers. You gagged around him, your cunt clenching around him yet again but in shock. He let out a low growl, his breathing becoming more frantic.
The long string of rosary beads that weren’t in your mouth felt cold against your chest. There was something that was so blasphemous about the scene. Something that was so wrong and debased that it had Tex beginning to shiver beneath you, eyes wide and glassy. He curled his fingers inside of your mouth, pressing against your tongue.
And then he was cumming again, his head lolling back onto the headrest, the muscles in his biceps pulling tight. He breathed hard, moving one of his hands to press against your abdomen, and was pleased to find that he could feel himself twitching inside of you.
Hi I have a request! Can it be something were Austin and the reader are at one of his events and she gets injured? Like maybe twists her ankle, I think it will be adorable!
oopsie daisy
word count: 2,487
warnings/notes: austin tries to protect you from journalists and paparazzi, he get's big time mad when one of them get's a little too close to you, you two being couple goals, this was super sweet and comfy for me to write.
masterlist | requests are open for business !
You looked hot as hell, but felt ridiculous. The bodice of the gown you were wearing was practically suffocating you, and it didn’t help that Austin’s stylist for the event had insisted that you wear heels so that the height difference between the two of you didn’t look too polarizing in pictures. You hadn’t minded the shoes too much at first, but that was then and this? This was now. You and Austin had been walking around the event for an entire hour, posing for pictures and speaking with interviewers. You had been with the actor for a while now, so this wasn’t your first rodeo. You didn’t hate events like this. . . you just didn’t particularly like them. Austin felt the exact same way about it. He couldn’t stand being the center of attention for too long; it made him feel a bit nervous. Tonight was certainly no different for the both of you.
“I’m sure you’ve been getting this all night- but you look stunning, y/n.” The interviewer gestured towards you with the microphone, and you couldn’t help but smile. You sure as hell hoped you looked good. You felt like bambi tottering around in your heels. Austin tightened his arm around you ever so slightly, pulling you further into his side. He could tell by the look in your eyes that it was growing harder and harder for you to walk.
Austin had noticed your discomfort earlier on in the night, but just ten minutes ago had offered to find you a place to sit down for a few precious minutes when it became apparent that it was beginning to become unbearable. The two of you had been in the process of escaping the main room, just a few feet from the hallway, when an interviewer for E! Magazine had caught up to you both. “Why thank you. You’re looking pretty dapper yourself. I’m really liking the velvet tie.” You tried your hand at making some small talk, smiling nice and pretty for the camera.
The journalist was quick to place his hand over his tie, almost as though he forgot that he was even wearing one. “Well thanks! You’re the first one to actually notice it’s textured.” He chuckled softly before turning to face the blonde at your side. “So fans are taking to social media, freaking out over your upcoming release. You had to grow your hair back out for the important role. You’ve had it so many different lengths and styles over the years. How long do you prefer to keep your hair?” Austin smiled down at you for a brief moment, knowing just how you felt about his long locks, before leaning in a little closer to the mic so that he could answer. “I like keeping my hair shorter than this,” He pointed to his head, biting his lip softly as you reached up, tucking a long strand behind his ear. “But this one doesn’t mind it,” he gave your side a squeeze, his smile widening as you chuckled softly. “ So I guess that’s all that matters. It sucks having to actually do something to it every single morning though. I don’t know how most girls have done this their whole lives. It doesn’t help that I’ve been blowing through my shampoo like crazy.”
“Well before I let you two go, I just wanted to extend my congratulations along with everyone else’s over at E!. I saw the engagement photos that you two posted last week, and we’re all just so excited for you. Your love story is one of my favorites, so I’ve always made it a point to keep up with you both. That Open Door episode you two did with Architectural Digest three months ago? I watched it the second it was posted. I adore you two,” You and Austin’s smiles widened. “How’s the ‘fiance’ life been treating you two?” Austin’s cheeks, without fail, began to flush, the corners of his eyes scrunching up adorably as he grinned. This year's Grammy ceremony might as well have been one great big engagement party. You’d never been so fawned over or celebrated in your life. It never lost its shine though, and you could tell that this question in particular was Austin’s favorite one of the night to answer. “Oh it’s been amazing. I’m still pinching myself, just to make sure I’m not dreaming. You’d be surprised by how many times I’ve had to catch myself though- I’m so used to referring to y/n as my girlfriend.” He’d only done it a couple of times, and had been overly excited to correct himself. “Everyone’s been so genuinely happy to see us move on to that next stage in our lives. I can’t wait. I didn’t think that I’d be the type to get so excited over wedding planning, but it’s been really great.” The two of you were already throwing dates around, wanting to be able to get married as soon as both of your busy schedules allowed it. The two of you didn’t see the point in waiting any longer than you already had. You both didn’t need a huge, gaudy wedding. Hell, the two of you would have happily eloped if you didn’t think your friends and family might get their feelings hurt.
“Were you nervous that she could possibly say no or. . . ?” Austin raised his brow at you, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. The corner of his lip tilted up into a smirk before he tore his eyes off of you, shaking his head. “Not at all. I know that’s probably going to make me sound so cocky, but no. We would have gotten married a week after we first met if we didn’t think that our families would have killed us. After two years of dating it just felt right. It wasn’t her potentially saying no that made me nervous, but the pressure of making it special.” Unbeknownst to you, him and his best friend, Ashley, had spent weeks planning the perfect proposal. His dad had been the one to drive up from Anaheim to help his son go ring shopping. Imagining the lanky man nervously going jewelry shop to jewelry shop, trying to find the one that would best suit your tastes, warmed your heart. Especially when his father texted you the day after he popped the question, saying that they had been out for hours looking at rings.
After wrapping up with his latest project, Austin had planned a nice camping trip for the both of you. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him, and he had played it off as just wanting to decompress after so much stress. You thought absolutely nothing of it, so it had shocked you when he had pulled the ring out of his pocket. You had always joked around with him, saying that you wouldn’t be surprised when he finally proposed. The two of you, over the last few months of your relationship, brought up marriage daily. It had never been a “what if” kind of conversation, rather a “when”. You had been shocked though. And you had also cried, which had been majorly embarrassing for you, but had resulted in him tearing up a bit as well.
“Thank you both so much.” The two of you nodded your thanks, Austin keeping his arm firmly planted on your waist. You attempted to take a step forward, but your sore ankle gave out. You didn’t have enough time to react, and so your foot twisted unnaturally to the side, pain instantly shooting through your entire leg.The room was far too loud to be able to hear anything, but you felt something pop. It took everything inside of you not to let out a small shriek in pain. Your eyes teared up though, and you were quick to bite onto your tongue, your grip on your fiance’s blazer tightening tenfold. Austin had felt your weight buckle and had reacted immediately. He kept his hold on you firm, his bicep tightening around you as he supported your weight with one arm. He was trying to not make it look obvious, and you couldn’t thank him enough. Your dress was long enough to completely hide the mishap as well, and you could only pray that the pain wasn’t too obvious on your face. Cameras were practically blinding the both of you as journalists relentlessly attempted to get pictures of the newly engaged couple.
If you had actually fallen on a night like tonight? You would have never heard the end of it. You’d be the laughing stock of every celebrity gossip website on the internet. Most of Austin’s fans adored you, but there were some of them that would absolutely love to see you bust your ass at an event like this. With the initial public humiliation avoided, all you could focus on was your pain level. . . and it was intense. Had you broken it? You wouldn’t be surprised. The heels were so incredibly high, and you weren’t used to having to walk in something like this for such a long period of time. You looked up at him with wide eyes, and his face softened, his other arm moving to hold you against his chest in an attempt to hide your face. You could hear more cameras clicking behind you like crazy and see the flashing lights on the wall behind you. “Are you hurt?” He whispered nervously into your ear, rubbing your back up and down in soothing circles. You nodded softly, blinking back tears as you tried to put weight on your foot, wanting to see if there was any way you could walk your way out of there. “Oh god.” Austin muttered as he heard your soft cry. No. . . no, there was no way you were getting out of there without any help. Before you had time to ask for any kind of assistance, Austin was already bending down, keeping one hand on your waist, and the other one moving to the back of your knees.
“Austin! Austin! Look this way for me!” “y/n! You look beautiful! Let’s see the ring!” “Adorable! Pose for us, please!” The photographers were eating it up like rabid animals, leaning forward as they all tried to get the perfect picture. Austin held you tight against his chest, carrying you through the room and out into the hall. The second that the cool air hit you, you felt like you could finally breathe. “Hospital? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Austin was a visible mess now that there weren’t paparazzi to worry about. The panic in his voice made your eyes burn. “I don’t know. I felt something sort of pop, and I’m in a lot of pain. . . “ He was breathing hard as he carried you out the front doors, groaning softly as more photographers began to approach, flashing pictures. You buried your head into his neck, shielding your eyes from the blinding lights. “Are you leaving, Mr Butler?” You heard the valet manager ask from his spot at the podium. “Yes. Can you please grab it for me? Quickly?” Austin stood there impatiently, holding you against him as the cameras continued to flash. You could feel his heart pounding hard against his chest.
“Hey, back up! You’re getting too close!” Austin snapped suddenly, tucking you even tighter against you and taking a step back.
“Sorry, man. We just want to see the ring.”
“Well you don’t have to press against her like that! I don’t like that, so don’t do it.” Austin shot back. You could hear the sound of a car engine approaching, and Austin was quick to push his way through the crowd the best that he could.
“I’m going to put you down so that I can open the door for you, alright?” You nodded, your nose brushing against his throat as he eased you down onto the sidewalk. Austin opened the door for you and then took a step back, moving to stand behind you in order to block any of the photographers violating attempts. They only continued to try and move around him, and with a sound of obvious annoyance, Austin boxed you in with both arms, using his body as a shield until you shut the door. He was in the driver's seat in a second, driving off before he even had his seatbelt buckled. “Am I driving home or to the hospital, baby?” You could see the pulse jumping in his neck, his blue eyes wide and frantic. He used his left hand to grip the wheel, his right moving out to find your own. He intertwined your fingers together, giving your palm a soft squeeze. “I’m so proud of you for holding it together during all of that. I’m just so sorry that this happened. . . I should have gotten you out of there sooner .” You used your free hand to dig through your purse, searching desperately for your phone. If you could see the damage, maybe then you’d be able to make a decision. If it was just a sprain then you two could head back home and just try to pretend like none of this ever happened. You turned the flashlight on, shining it on your foot. You tried to twist it from side to side to get a good look, and the second you did? You nearly fainted. Austin pulled up to a red light just in time to be able to see the damage as well.
“Oh god,” You breathed, nearly dropping your phone. It was already beginning to swell, and it was very clearly not just twisted.
“Hospital! Hospital! Alright. . . okay. . . that really just happened.” Austin practically screamed, dropping your hand to place both hands on the wheel. The cars behind him laid on their horns as he switched lanes last minute, speeding down the onramp.
You had ended up breaking your fibula that night. The two of you had been ushered into a private room the second one of the nurses recognized who you both were, and you were thankful for the privacy. After the pain meds had kicked in, you actually felt like you could laugh over the ridiculous situation, what with the two of you sitting in the dingy Los Angeles hospital, both of you decked out in full blown formal-wear. Of course something like this would happen to you.
Austin had made sure to document the moment, snapping a few embarrassing photos of his own. Your personal favorite being a selfie of him, your ball gown-clad body looking ridiculous and small in the background, curled up on the hospital cot.
The best part of the night? The Uber Eats he had ordered the second the both of you got home.
That and the fact that Austin had insisted on signing your cast.
Your ex boyfriend had never understood why you asked for a nice lingerie set every Valentines Day. "If I'm just going to take it off you, why would I want to spend two hundred dollars on it?" Sure, lingerie wasn't a practical purchase, but it wasn't about that. It was about how confident you felt. How sexy you looked. You were a present waiting to be unwrapped, so why shouldn't you be tied up with ribbon and little pink bows?
Austin was a man of taste, hence why he was so in love with you. He thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. The two of you had been going out for just a little over a year, and in those twelve short months the man had spoiled you absolutely rotten. He went out of his way to show you how much he cared, both through words of affirmation as well as acts of service. Your panty drawer was filled to the absolute brim with expensive lace, mesh, and silk lingerie. From teddys, sheer baby doll night gowns, to a full set with garters- he bought you anything he could get his hands on. Todays trip to Victoria's Secret was one made out of necessity, which was obscenely rare for the two of you. You walked into the store, your lanky blonde trailing close behind, hands casually shoved into his pockets. "Here baby, your size is right there." He pointed, pulling you along.
See, your ex boyfriend used to hand you his card and refuse to go inside any lingerie store with you. Whether it was Victoria's Secret or an upscale boutique, he said that he felt too out of place. It "looked weird" for a guy to be in that sort of store, even if he was just with his girlfriend.
Austin had always been the complete opposite.
You picked up a few pairs of panties, feeling the fabric between your thumb and pointer finger. "Hey, what about this one?" His plush pink lips pulled back, revealing his straight white grin as he held up a pair. The thing was nothing more than a few pieces of string with pale blue flowers sewed on every here and there. "We're on a family vacation, Aus." You narrowed your eyes playfully, crumbling up a pair before tossing it in his direction. It hit his chest softly, the thin piece of fabric fluttering back down into the bin. "We have our own room with a door that locks. C'mon? I want to see your little tan lines." He bit his lip, hunching his back down slightly so that he was reaching your much shorter height. He knew it was nearly impossible to deny him when he blinked his long lashes at you like that. You were with his dad's side of the family on a beach vacation, and of course you had forgotten your underwear. Everything else you had made sure to bring, but it had completely slipped your mind in your excitement to enjoy the fresh salty air.
"Fine. . . but everything else has to be practical." He was no longer paying attention to you though, his eyes were locked on a corseted top across the store.
It was all sheer pink fabric. He hadn't been listening to you at all.
He pointed, ignoring the other patrons as they watched him. He had no shame whatsoever, turning his head to look back at you. "That. That too. Hold on. . . let me put this blue pair of panties back, and get the matching set." You groaned softly, throwing your own practical choices into the basket that Austin was eagerly swinging around. Out of the corner of your eye you saw another couple, both of them around the same age that you and Austin were. The boyfriend's eyes looked like they were bulging out of his skull, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. "Babe. . . can't I just go sit in the food court? I can get us a smoothie or something." You heard him mumbling. Austin couldn't help himself as he leaned towards you, hand up to his mouth as if he was about to tell you a secret.
"What an amateur." He whispered.
a/n: this made me chuckle while writing. he'd be soooo down to go to any lingerie boutique with you.
hi!!! congratulations! i wanted to request biker!austin with the enemies to lovers trope and the quotes “i want it to hurt” and “quit being such a brat”
i love you!!
𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 | 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
prompt: "I want it to hurt" and "quit being such a brat"
song: tear you apart - she wants revenge
word count: 1.8k
notes/warnings: biker!austin has my whole heart. the reader being such a brat was honestly so sexy to write. . . i edited this while i was half asleep, so hopefully i didn’t miss any errors! i love you too, angel! thank you for the request ;)
Disobeying orders just so happened to be your specialty though.
Disobeying orders just so happened to be your specialty though.
Your father had been a part of the very same motorcycle club that Austin’s own father had once led. You were practically raised in the clubhouse since you had been in diapers, and now that your father had retired you found it hard to stay away. You always gravitated towards men that liked to stay in trouble. The kind that drank too much booze and snorted whatever they could get their hands on.
You rode them for all that they were worth and kicked them to the curb the second that you became their latest fix. Life was easy that way.
But nobody knew you quite like Austin.
But nobody knew you quite like Austin.
Gone were the days of him following after you like a little lost puppy. Now he treated you more like a nuisance than anything. Maybe he was still butthurt about that. . . thing that happened between the two of you right before you had left on your latest adventure.
When Austin practically spat your name, the warmth of his body directly behind you, his shadow looming over you, the other men all shut their mouths and took a collective step back.
You had to hand it to the blonde; his father’s constant verbal abuse had turned him into one scary son of a bitch. Fear was a hard emotion to inspire in you, yet the hairs on your arms were beginning to stand on end.
Still, you scoffed in annoyance before turning on the heels of your vintage cowboy boots, staring the man down through narrowed eyes.
“What do you want, Butler?” You tilted your head to the side ever so slightly, a teasing grin pulling up at the corners of your mouth.
The muscle in Austin’s jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth, his blue eyes hard as steel now that he was staring you down. Still, you didn’t falter. You kept your shoulders relaxed, her hand lazily holding a bottle of beer by the lip of the glass. You were just there to have a good time. He was the asshole that was about to cause a scene.
You had a way of getting under his skin. It was a talent, really.
He reached out, locking down on your wrist with a vice like grip so that he could tug you back towards his office. You knew him well enough to understand that he had an image to uphold. Yelling at a tiny girl in front of everybody wasn’t a very good look for him, you supposed. Beer sloshed onto the ground as he continued to roughly tug you, not caring about your small hisses and groans of discomfort. He finally let you go after he slammed the door closed, the well used dart board swinging back against the wood.
“What the hell was that for?” You gasped out, holding your arm up in front of your face. Sure enough, the skin looked a bit red from his ape-like strength. “God damn caveman. You could have just told me that you wanted to speak with me. Not break my fuckin’ wrist.”
His back was facing you, his shoulders already huffing with labored breaths. You were poking the bear and you knew it. You should stop.
But you just loved doing it so much.
Getting reactions out of him was one of your favorite pastimes. He just looked so cute when he was angry, what with his big blue eyes narrowed. His plump lips pulled into a deep frown. God, he was doing it now. You were just about to open your mouth, hellbent on getting him even more wound up than he already was.
That was before he slammed his hands down onto his desk, sending papers flying off of the sides. A mug filled with pens teetered over the edge, shattering against the old wooden floor. Your jaw ticked, your lashes fluttering as you tried to assimilate the mess around you.
“I tried being nice and you just ignored me.” He spat out, his hands still braced against the desk, his broad shoulders hunched.
You stood there a few more seconds, trying to decide if egging him on was the best thing to do in this situation. The older he gets, the more brash and angry he is.
You ‘tsk’, leaning back against the door as you motion towards the floors. Of course he can’t see you with his back turned, but you don’t care. “God, why are you such a baby? You’re this upset over me not paying attention to you? We’re not twelve anymore.”
You dragged the heels of your feet as you approached his desk, bending down so that you could pick up one of the broken pieces of pottery. You turned the piece over in your hand, trying to flesh out what kind of design had been painted onto it. Austin snatched the piece out from between your fingers, and all you could do was watch as his fist clenched down and around the shard. You flinched, your eyes flickering up to his face.
“Quit,” He spoke between clenched teeth, his fist trembling as he tightened his hold on the glass. “Acting like such a fuckin’ brat.” Blood began to drip down the sun kissed skin of his wrist and onto the floor at his feet.
Your chest tightened, but you decided to ignore the insult. Instead you reached out, taking his hand in yours. “Let go.” You spoke, trying to pry his fingers open. He strengthened his hold, sending even more fat droplets onto the ground.
“Aus, let go! You’re hurting yourself!” You gave his solid chest a push, making him take a step back. The glass was sent clattering to the ground as he stumbled back into the desk, the legs scrapping loudly. If anybody heard the muffled sounds of your fight from outside of the door, nobody was coming to either of your rescue.
“I want it to hurt! What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?!” He finally yelled, the muscles of his biceps flexing as he gripped down onto the edge of the desk. You can’t remember a time where you had seen him this angry at you. You must have seriously struck a nerve earlier.
“Why are you acting like this? Jesus. . . You need to calm the fuck do-”
“You’re just gonna act like nothing happened. Like it didn’t mean anything.”
You froze, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. He was that upset over. . . over what happened two months ago?
“It didn’t mean anything.” You told him, suddenly looking over his face more carefully.
He laughed humorlessly, his jaw clicking as he leaned his neck back, staring up at the ceiling for a couple of seconds. He was trying to figure out how to handle this situation.
“Bull fuckin’ shit, it didn’t mean anything. You’re a liar.”
“Austin. . .” You were approaching the situation a little more carefully now that you knew just how emotional he was over it. He was reacting with anger, but you could see the sadness in his eyes. “It was just sex-”
“Yeah, sex.” He straightened up to his full height, towering over you. “Between us. You and me. We’ve known each other since we were kids. What happened wasn’t just sex.” He grabbed a fist full of wavy blonde locks, giving them a few tugs in frustration when he took in your blank expression.
“Don’t try to gaslight me into believing that I’m crazy. I was right there with you.” He was trying to reason with you.
If you were any other girl then you would have given in right away. If you were any other girl you would have agreed with him- told him that you hadn’t stopped thinking about him ever since you left.
But you weren’t any other girl.
You weren’t good at expressing your emotions. Whenever you were forced to you often shut down. You could feel yourself doing that now, all while trying to figure out how to salvage whatever fucked up relationship the two of you had before sex ruined everything. For the last ten years the two of you had been like fire and ice. You two would spit insult after insult at each other, all while knowing that the two of you were a match made in hell.
You hated his guts, all while loving the shit out of him too.
“W-We. . .” You swallowed when he took a step closer to you, the toes of his motorcycle boots bumping against your own. “We would never work. We’d just end up killing each other.” You tried, motioning between the two of you.
“I know that you hate feeling tied down. I do too. But I can’t get you off of my mind.” It was hard to breathe when he was looking at you like that.
He was looking at you like he loved you.
He was smart for not giving you enough time to answer. You were stubborn, and you were positive that you’d say the wrong thing. You were bound to mess up and say something that you truly hurt him. Something you truly didn’t mean.
His lips were just as soft and warm against yours as you remembered. Maybe your overactive mind was playing tricks on you, but you could have sworn that you could feel his hand tremble as he reached down to cup your cheek, his lips pressing kisses down the corner of your mouth, and then down your jaw. You could feel his heavy breaths against your bare collarbones, and all at once you realized that you wouldn’t be able to stop this from happening.
Not because you were too afraid to say anything. Not because you hated the thought of rejecting him.
But because you wanted it.
He was right. He was right about it all, and part of you hated him for that.
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For tut sleepover I’d love dad Elvis with 9 and 26 thank you!!!
𝐌𝐔𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐄 | 𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐦𝐨𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
prompt(s): "I love it." "I'm gonna puke." and "If it makes you feel any better then you can slap me. Lightly."
word count: 1.3k
song: fooled around and fell in love - elvin bishop
notes/warnings: this is for my 2.5k celebration! no triggers, this is a safe read. elvis is the best dad ever and loves you and your kids more than anything. we stan a girl-dad king.
The musician had grown up ridiculously poor. The kind of poor that had him eating nothing but corn bread for dinners some nights and living in government housing. He never grew up with many toys, but neither did the other boys from his side of town. They had to make do with what they had.
The musician had grown up ridiculously poor. The kind of poor that had him eating nothing but corn bread for dinners some nights and living in government housing. He never grew up with many toys, but neither did the other boys from his side of town. They had to make do with what they had.
An empty apple crate was a car if you tied a thick rope to the middle plank and took turns pulling one another in it. You could make forts out of broken branches and dead leaves, and the local streams were just as good as any saltwater swimming pool.
His daughter had absolutely everything that he had grown up without. A nice big house, brand new clothes (without any patches in them), and more toys than any child would know what to do with. Instead of riding her tricycle around the house and terrorizing Miss Mary (his daughter loved to help her with the cooking), she was outside getting her hands dirty. His daughter was out in the front yard with a plate, one that she no doubt had to have stood up on her tiptoes to steal from the fine China cabinet. The baby blue dress that you had put her in just hours ago was practically black, mud splattered all over every visible inch of her tiny body.
“Winnie!” He called out to her, hoping to get her attention.
She didn’t look up, rather just slapped another fistful of mud onto the plate. He spluttered, feeling jilted by the act of her down right ignoring him. It wasn’t just any old plate that she was sullying either- it was your wedding china. It was cream colored porcelain with gold inlay- very expensive. He didn’t care about the price though, rather the fact that you and him had eaten your wedding cake off of it.
Right on que, as if summoned by his panic, you appeared in the doorway behind him. You opened your mouth to ask him what he was looking at, but found out on your own very quickly.
“Winona Mae!” You called out to her hurriedly, motioning her over with a forceful wave of your hand. “Come here, baby.”
Elvis couldn’t help but huff in annoyance as his little girl stood up, plate in hand, and did exactly what you said. He should have known that she would listen to you over him. His brown suede jacket crinkled softly at his elbows as he crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his booted foot against the stones of the front porch, trying to look the part of an authoritarian.
“Did you not hear me, lil girl?” He asked her once she was close enough. Her bare feet slapped against the stairs as she walked, and to his disbelief she shook her head.
“I was busy cookin’.” Her little southern drawl was thick as she replied in a rather matter-of-fact tone.
He couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh as she proudly held out the plate. You and your husband stared down at the mud, both knowing that it would be better to play along with her little game of make-believe. You were the first one to lean down, admiring her handy work with kind motherly eyes. She had placed small pebbles around the perimeter of the dirt mound, even going as far to place a few leaves and sticks on the very top. You surmised that it had to be a cake.
You pretended to sniff the air, shooting her a wide grin soon after. “Oh my- what a beautiful cake. And it smells so delicious. How did I not know that you were such a talented baker?”
It was moments like this that had Elvis falling in love with you all over again. Motherhood suited you beautifully. Here you were, happily playing with your daughter, your stomach swelling with his child. He had the family that he had always wanted as well as a wife that he adored. You were someone that truly saw him and his heart.
“S’cause I didn’t wanna tell ya.” She got her sas from you, he supposed.
Winnie smiled expectantly at Evis, staring at him expectantly. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing, not wanting to offend her. “It looks delicious, honey. Can I have a bite?”
He pretended to scoop some up into his hand, then proceeded to fake chew. “It is delicious. That’s gotta be the best cake I’ve ever had.”
“Well is mama gonna eat a slice?” It was almost like the girl didn’t realize she was coated in a thick layer of dirt. She was carrying on a conversation like everything was normal.
Elvis was fully focused on his precious red carpets, wondering if they would ever recover from the stains they were no doubt about to endure. Thankfully you had heard what your daughter said and replied for him.
“I’m sure I would love it, but mama can’t eat anything that might hurt the baby, and that much sugar would be bad for me.” You pointed at your rounded belly. “But I’m sure daddy would love to eat another slice.” You shot your husband an apologetic smile, but the expression was soon replaced with shock.
“Winona, baby- don’t-” You hurriedly reached out for her, but it was too late.
Elvis felt something cold and wet press against his mouth. He parted his lips to let out a surprised yell, which was a terrible idea.
His daughter’s small hand was pressed against his mouth, force feeding him a fist full of mud. The earthy, gritty sludge had him doubling over the side of the porch to spit. His stomach churned as the horrific flavor hit his tongue.
“I’m ‘bout to be sick.” He grumbled, his eyes tearing up as he tried to keep himself from dry heaving.
Instead of sympathy on your end, he heard. . . laughter? Sure enough, you were doubled over as well, but for entirely different reasons. The white turtleneck that he was wearing under his jacket was stained, his perfect face marred with mud and chunks of grass. The usually well kept, perfectly put together man was an absolute mess. The ungodly moans and groans of disgust made the moment even more comical.
“Are you laughin’ at me?” He gasped, his large hands braced on his knees.
“If it makes you feel any better, you can slap me. Lightly.” You teased, only for another round of giggles to pour out of your mouth as he leaned back down, gagging dramatically loud.
“E-Elvis? Did you hate my cake that bad?” His daughter's small voice sounded dejected as she stared up at him, her big eyes and long lashes downcast.
He was too preoccupied with trying not to puke his guts out to correct his daughter when she called him by his first name.
No matter how disgusting it was, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for his reaction. He was sure that anyone else in his position would have acted the same way, but his daughter had him wrapped around her little finger. He should have just chewed and swallowed it; he couldn’t stand to see her upset.
“Baby, I loved it,” A pause, then another gag.”I loved it so much that I just had to spit it out, that way I could get to enjoy the slice twice.”
congratulations on 2.5k! you’re so deserving of it baby 💗 !
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for my request: i would like daddy!dom elvis, number 12, number 55, and soulmates trope!
“I had a dream about you last night” and “I’ve never done this before…”
𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 | 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
prompts: "i had a dream about you last night" and "i've never done this before. . . " with the soulmate trope.
word count: 2.1k
song: power of my love - elvis presley
notes/warnings: this is 70s elvis, so there is a brief mention of pill abuse. i might have taken a different direction than what you wanted, but i know that you're a hopeless romantic and thought that you might have enjoyed this a lil bit more. i hope you like it!
She was always so lovely. Big eyes and a beaming smile that made him melt like morning frost. She was the woman of his dreams- the one that made him fall in love without even knowing her. That was what a soulmate was supposed to do though, right? Make you fall instantly. He felt connected to her, almost as though there was this invisible string that connected the two of them. Elvis remembered the first time he told his parents about the dreams. His father was happy for him: Elvis had his passion with music and a newfound goal, which was to find her.
She was always so lovely. Big eyes and a beaming smile that made him melt like morning frost. She was the woman of his dreams- the one that made him fall in love without even knowing her. That was what a soulmate was supposed to do though, right? Make you fall instantly. He felt connected to her, almost as though there was this invisible string that connected the two of them. Elvis remembered the first time he told his parents about the dreams. His father was happy for him: Elvis had his passion with music and a newfound goal, which was to find her.
The same way that Vernon had found Gladys on that hot summer day during a church revival. Two months later they were skipping town, borrowing a ten dollar bill from their friend just to get married.
“She was four years older than me. . . but I didn’t care ‘bout that none. She was the girl I’d been dreamin’ ‘bout all’a my life- and there she was, starin’ at me from across that ole’ linen tent. She was real. And she was mine. If I could’a married her right then. . . I would have.”
Gladys wasn’t as happy for her son as Vernon had been. The “dreams” meant that he was growing up. He was shedding the skin of his boyhood, a reminder to his mother that Elvis wasn’t going to stay her baby forever.
The bout of insomnia started right after he joined the military. It was ironic- in a macabre kind of way though. The only times he felt true happiness was when he was sleeping, and yet he barely got any shut eye. That was when the addiction started, he thinks. Most nights he couldn’t drift off at all without the help of a pill. He needed to see her to stay sane. He kept the bad habit up once he got back to Memphis, and without his mother there to scold him, there were no consequences to his actions. There was no one there to nag him or lead him in the right direction. Because even if he was strung out on sleeping pills and opioids, he was still making money.
And boy, was he making money.
The nights got lonely with nobody to spend them with. The house was too big to be empty the way that it always was. It hurt his heart. When Miss Mary removed her apron and turned off the oven to head home, the solitude began to sink in. The hallways got darker, the rooms felt larger, and not even the sound of his piano could drown out the silence.
Vegas wasn’t any better. Elvis wasn’t just sinking- the man was drowning. All he could do was flail his limbs out, clawing for some solid land to cling to. His mother was gone, him and his father often fought like cats and dogs, and the Colonel wasn’t the same man that he had been towards the beginning of his career. All of his friends were on his payroll, the girlfriends never saw him outside of who he was up on stage, and it felt like Elvis was nothing but a figure. It was almost like he wasn’t a real person. Sometimes it was hard for him to even remember who he was outside of the flashy wardrobe and spotlights.
Without a microphone in his hand Elvis was just a man.
A lonely one at that.
But the woman in his dreams was still out there. She was waiting for him, he could just feel it. He watched her grow up from his mind's eye, and saw the way that time had changed her. The musician knew that he would be more than willing to settle for a friendship- anything. Just so long as he could have her.
And then it happened. That. . . that thing.
His eyes searched the crowd just like they always did, wanting to connect with all of the unfamiliar faces. So he sang from the depths of his soul, his fingers trembling as he gripped the mic even harder in his large palm. Elvis wanted to reach out to all of them, and for everyone to see him.
Really, it was a cry for help.
Because he was still just that poor boy from Tupelo. And while he didn’t have to stand up on a crate to reach the microphone anymore, he was still putting on the same sort of show. Just a boy and his guitar- destined for greatness. Reaching out for love and acceptance. Desperate. Hungry. Searching.
And then your eyes met. And Elvis remembered his father’s words.
“If I could have married her right then. . . I would have.”
It all clicked into place.
The singer forgot who he was when he finally stumbled off stage, tearing at his sweat covered scarf and heading towards the doors that led to the casino ballroom. Out into the crowd. He couldn’t stand to be away from you for even a second. Not anymore. Not ever again. He wouldn’t be able to take it. Jerry had to yank him by the back of his white jumpsuit, keeping him from being surrounded by a screaming mob. They would no doubt tear him apart after he put on a show like the one that he had just performed. He could still hear the women’s shrill voices calling out for him. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were one of them.
“I-I need. . .” Elvis was panting- breathless. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the show or the fact that he had finally found you. It could very well be both. “Orange dress. S-She was in the third row. Bring her to me.” He was practically speaking in riddles, but Jerry knew better than to question him.
The dyed brunette didn’t want to leave the side stage. He wanted to wait right there until Jerry had finally found her, but he was being gripped at the elbows and numbly ushered over towards the employee elevator.
Everything after that was a blur. He was taking a shower by instinct alone, and the same thing with getting dressed. By the time that he finally woke up out of his shocked stupor he was sitting on the couch, his wet hair dripping into his eyes and onto his clothed shoulders. There was a knock at the door, which roused Elvis from whatever daze he was in.
“E.P?” It was Jerry’s familiar voice that called out to him.
It had the man bracing his hands on his long legs as he stood up to his full height, practically stumbling through the penthouse suite. There was a possibility that you had slipped out of the hotel before Jerry could find you. Or. . . or maybe you wouldn’t want to see him. You could have turned Jerry away, and there would have been nothing he could do about it. The fact of the matter was that Elvis had been in the public eye for years. He had traveled all over the state, so why was this the first time he had ever seen you? He would have moved heaven and hell just to catch a glimpse of you. . . so why?
But there you were in the doorway, your small frame dwarfed behind Jerry as he acted as a buffer to introduce the two of you.
Your hands and knees were shaking. You stood there and stared like a deer in headlights as Jerry spoke your name, motioning a hand between the two of you. Elvis repeated your name under his breath, trying it out on his tongue. Tasting it.
“Do ya wanna come in?” Elvis finally asked after what felt like an eternity of just staring at you.
In his eyes you were the celebrity, and not the other way around.
You straightened out then, your back rim-rod straight as you tossed a nervous glance up at Jerry. There it was again. . . the fear that you didn’t want to see him. He was terrified that this might be the last time that he’d ever get to see you. It had his eyes searching both of your hands wildly, trying to see if there was a ring.
What would he have done if there was one?
Die, probably.
“Ya don’t have t’come in. . . we can jus’ grab some supper-”
“N-No. . . I’ll come in.” Your voice was soft and sweet.
It was his first time ever hearing it. While your face was familiar, everything else. . . that was all new. It would have been horrifically dramatic, but the sound of it nearly had him weeping. He swallowed thickly, nodding his head before closing the door behind you, shutting Jerry out.
“You know. . .” It was difficult to breathe in his presence, and as you looked up at him you found it hard to look at his face for too long. It was one thing to watch him on television or have his posters up in your room. . . but to stand in front of him was completely different. He was no longer a God up on a grand stage, but a man. A man that was staring at you with the softest eyes.
You couldn’t help but admire his undone hair, his long bangs wet and hanging in his eyes. He was even more beautiful like this. He looked just as nervous as you currently felt.
“Now, there’s no need’a be shy. Ya can talk’ta me, promise.” His black velvet voice surrounded you. His blue eyes softened on your face.
And you believed him.
“I dreamed about you last night.” It was hard feeling this vulnerable. He was yours, so there was no reason to feel so ashamed of opening up. The both of you were like two sides of the same coin.
His lips twitched up into a smile, and he was quick to look off to the side and pretend to focus on anything else that wasn’t your lovely face.
“If I had gotten any shut eye last night. . . then I definitely would’a dreamt of ya too.” And then it was your time to look all shy, your cheeks warming with embarrassment.
He could have devoured you in one bite.
Elvis took his time comparing your small size to his. He started at your hands, then your height- the way you only reached his chest. You were like a little baby- his baby. The overwhelming urge to protect you was difficult to fight off.
It was animalistic. Primal.
“I-I’ve never. . . I’ve never done this before.” You finally spoke up after the silence had stretched on a bit too long for your liking. While you were enjoying the fact that you were finally in his presence, you were beginning to feel nervous all over again.
He was a famous musician, afterall. He had called you up to his private room. Despite the fact that you were a virgin, you knew what this must mean for him. Still, he blinked down at you in confusion. After a few seconds of putting two and two together he spluttered, his eyes widening.
“I didn’t call ya up here just’a have sex with ya, honey. I might not look it, but my mama raised a gentleman,” He reached out and took one of your hands in his. The feeling of your soft skin against his own nearly sent him to his knees. “I-I’ve been searchin’ so long for ya. . . I just wanna talk to y-”
“I want to.” You spoke up, knowing you weren’t going to stay this brave forever. You’d never spoken to a man in such a lewd manner, yet here you were. Letting him know that you had gotten on that elevator all the way to the top floor, all while knowing you were going to have sex with him. Knowing and wanting it.
“I just need to know that you’re not going anywhere afterwards. I won’t be able to do it-”
“We could get married tomorrow if you’d like. I know a guy.” It was his turn to interrupt.
It was the hurried, nearly panicked way he spoke to you that had your lips turning up into a grin.
And then a laugh escaping you.
“My daddy married my mama after just two months. I’m not sure that I could hold off for that long. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you.”
You.
The girl that he had loved even in his adolescence. The woman in his dreams.
I love a good role reversal, so i hope you don't mind if I made it the other way around.
It was your great aunt’s ninetieth birthday, and she had made a fuss over not wanting to do anything special for it. Your grandmother had taken it upon herself to plan a party, probably just looking for an excuse to show off the new renovations she and your grandfather had made to their old farm house.
“Aus, you can’t keep giving her chocolate.” You whispered in the kitchen, reaching out to grab his hand before he could get your great aunt yet another Hershey kiss from the candy jar. He wrinkled his nose, turning back around to face the dining room, looking at the pile of silver foil that she had tossed onto her empty dinner plate. He narrowed his eyes at you, quickly grabbing another one before you had time to complain. “A couple pieces of chocolate isn’t going to hurt anyone.” Your husband could be so bull headed sometimes. “Am I the only one looking at the mountain of empty candy wrappers on her plate? I haven’t been sneaking her candy, Austin. Grandma and grandpa haven’t stood up from the table once. It’s you,” You gave his chest a poke. He tried to keep himself from laughing, so he sucked his lips into his mouth. “You’re the candy bandit.” Before you even had time to snatch the sugary treat out of his hands he was practically running across the kitchen.
“Here ya go, auntie.” You heard him purr from the dining room. Your husband wasn’t just bull headed, but a smug bastard. With a sigh you turned back around, grabbing the pitcher of sweet tea before joining the rest of your family. Sometimes you were sure that they all loved Austin more than they did you.
And you would be correct in thinking that, apparently.
He had crouched down between your great-aunt and your grandma, his hands on both of their shoulders as he listened intently to whatever stories from their youth that they were no doubt blabbering on about. There was a long period of time where you had been the one that was constantly fawned over and talked to, but then your beanpole of a man sauntered into your life and then boom. You’re what’s out, and he’s what’s in.
You would be a liar if you said that you didn’t love it though. Seeing him go above and beyond for the elderly members of your family made you fall even deeper in love with him, and the way he was with all of your baby cousins and nieces and nephews?
Your baby fever was at an all time high. Both of you, actually.
You set the tea down in the center of the table, moving to sit back down in your seat. Maybe you were being childish, but there was a part of you that wanted so badly to bully Austin. He had looked too smug in the kitchen earlier for your liking, and you wanted to knock him down a few pegs. Make him squirm. With a small smirk you dug your phone out of your pants pocket, clicking on his contact.
I think we should try for a baby.
You leaned back against your chair, wiping the smile off of your face as you heard his text ringtone sound. He began digging into his pocket, his car keys jinging softly. His eyes scanned over the text again and again before he quickly looked up at you, blue eyes as wide as saucers. ‘Really’? He mouthed, starting to stand up from the floor. You began looking through your camera roll, eyes alight with mischief. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he looked back down at his phone again, eagerly waiting for your response. After a few seconds of typing, you turned your phone off, trying to keep the evil smirk off of your face as you stood up from the table. “Excuse me guys. I think I want to take a look at what grandma had done to the basement.” Your family waved you off.
You had seen Austin’s reaction. He had practically dropped his phone in his haste to turn it off, mortified by the idea that your elderly grandparents would see the lewd photo you had just sent him along with the suggestive message. You made your way down the basement stairs, and your husband was quick to push his way into the room right along with you, closing and locking the door behind him. “You’re crazy,” He whispered breathlessly. “Now?” You nodded. “H-Here?” You nodded again, moving to unbutton your pants.
Austin stood there for a beat, watching your hands closely as they moved down to the zipper.
