sloppyzengarden

[sloppyzengarden]

content: gender neutral reader, biblically accurate angels, NSFW

"Are you okay, (Y/N)? You seem a little pale."

The rest of the choir pauses briefly, eyeing you with mild concern. You wave your hand reassuringly.

It appears that no one else can see them. In the middle of your practice - as you are to perform for the church in just a couple of minutes - you were disturbed to discover several colossal creatures sprawled against the high ceilings of the holy building. They have many eyes, tumbling around in blazing spirals, and thick pairs of wings adorning their alien bodies.

They're angels. You can feel it in the very marrow of your bones. Their intentions, however, are anything but sacred. Their burning stare feels like hundreds of rough hands greedily running over your human body. It's almost as if - no, quite literally - they're touching you with the raw power of thought.

"Then let us begin," the leader declares, turning towards the audience. "This one is called, 'Hark! The Herald Angels Sing'. In one, two..."

He taps the rail of the podium, and you open your mouth. The first note rolls out with a creak, and you readjust your collar, embarrassed. The invisible hands have reached your nether regions, causing your cheeks to burn with heat.

Good Lord. You're being molested by angels in the middle of your Christmas choir. Thankfully your swaying voice is drowned by the rest of the members, completely unaware of your depraved circumstances. You look ahead, trying your best to maintain a straight face.

By the time the song is over, you're a feverish mess. The people stand up in an explosion of applause; you use this chance to run outside, drenched in your own juices. With trembling hands, you type a message to one of the choir members: I need a moment to recollect myself.

Hopefully they're done playing with you.

[sloppyzengarden]

[sloppyzengarden]

boyfriend!simon riley who loves eating you out any chance he gets cw: consented somnophilia

simon riley is a certified munch. get him a shirt that says 'munch' with an arrow pointed upwards towards his face and it will, unironically, be the shirt he wears most. the boys poke fun at him for the shirt, tossing jokes around with hearty laughs, to which he shrugs and just mumbles how it's true. he loves eating you out.

all around the house, there's barely a surface he hasn't bent you over, or laid you flat on your back across.

he'll bend you over the kitchen counter, cold tile causing your nipples to erect and goosebumps to rise across your even skin as he laps and slurps at your cunt from behind like a man starved, large hands digging into your plush cheeks to spread you open for him.

he'll lay you flat against the dining room table, legs thrown over his shoulder, and panties hanging around your ankle as he goes to town, like a feast laid in front of him, he devours you whole. tongue circling your clit as he pumps two fingers into your sloppy cunt, arousal drooling from your hole as he adds in a third.

no surface of your house is safe. he'll take you in obscure places more than he eats you out on your own bed. the couch, the coffee table, the floor, against the wall, the bathroom counter, the shower, on top of the dresser, across a desk, sitting on his face, you name it, you've probably done it.

he'll lull you to sleep with slow, gentle pussy eating, his tongue lightly lapping and licking at your folds, blond lashes fluttering as his eyes shut in bliss.

he will wake you up, with your approval, with his face buried in your sweet warmth, mumbling nonsense against your folds about how you need to be his first and last meal of the day because that you are. and he'll do it all with that silly little shirt on, how fitting.

[sloppyzengarden]

I should go to bed, but I can’t stop looking at this sexy Man- 👀

[sloppyzengarden]

Elvis meets President Nixon.

[sloppyzengarden]

never seen a more sublimely beautiful man

[sloppyzengarden]

He had no right to look this good... Damn! That's not fair... our poor hearts.

[sloppyzengarden]

jinx relationship headcanons

warnings: there's some nfsw but it's almost clinical, the usual dark-ish jinx stuff that always comes with her

a/n: guys don't worry she's alive and well here in my house she's actually taking a nap, we're gonna have dinner later

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

She often forgets to take care of herself: makeup stays on her face for days, her hair becomes matted and dirty at the ends, and her hands are dusty with chipped nail polish.

So you like to take care of her—helping her wash her hair (it really is a two-person job these days), gently washing her face, and making sure she's thoroughly clean before letting her go to bed or even hug you.

And in these moments, when she smells cleaner than she has in years and her hair feels so light she could fly, there are no voices, no buzzing, no sound. There’s just peace and this sense that she could actually have things like these—normal moments and casual actions with you. Most importantly, that she deserves them.

She's sitting in a loose white shirt, eyes closed, humming a song that's been stuck in her head for days. You're behind her, humming along as you brush her long locks. When you're done, you inch closer, placing your hands on her shoulders and start kissing her: first the top of her head, then her forehead when she leans to look at you, followed by her nose. Finally, you pepper kisses across her whole face before pulling back to grab something else for her hair.

She turns to look at you, her eyes dreamy and shiny, her heart beating fast. There’s a small smile on her face.

After that, you both cling to each other on her enormous bed. She switches positions every few moments—from laying her head on your chest, to being the small spoon, to the big spoon, to just fully lying on top of you and burying her face in your neck. She's unusually quiet in those moments, as if she's recharging.

Sometimes, she might talk about her feelings—the ones she doesn’t understand yet and the ones she knows are bad—and she’s thankful you don’t judge her.

Other times, she might just want to jump your bones, thinking it’s an equivalent “thank you” for taking care of her. It takes her a while to understand that she doesn’t have to pay you back for your affection.

There are also moments when you help build her back up: putting makeup on her face again or braiding her hair, carefully working through knots to avoid pulling too hard.

The biggest problem is her staring. You've tried talking her out of it so many times, but while you paint her face or fix her hair, she just stares at you, unblinking.

Sometimes, she starts frowning, taking all of you in. Occasionally, she'll pull back unintentionally, her chest too full of feelings she doesn’t yet understand.

You ask if she's okay, and she responds with a snarky comment, building up her walls again. But eventually, she relaxes into your touch, letting you continue.

It’s actually really hard for her to relax most of the time.

For example, she never fully lets go when the two of you are intimate. Sometimes, while you're eating her out, you catch her staring at you, laser-focused, as if waiting for you to hurt her. “Sorry, toots. Got lost again. But that feels good, so keep going,” she’ll say, laying back against the pillows as if nothing happened.

You used to get really worried and stop altogether, but those dissociative episodes have become fewer and fewer as she gets healthier.

Dancing is something you do almost daily, though it’s not really dancing at this point—it’s just rocking heads, jumping around, and holding each other while spinning.

On rare occasions, you’ll slow dance. She’ll put her feet on top of yours, and the two of you will barely move in circles in the middle of the bedroom. In those moments, she’s as happy as she can be, just existing with you.

You also love annoying her by whispering bad jokes in her ear until she stops whatever tinkering she’s doing because she’s too busy laughing.

Then, she’ll tickle you until you’re crying, cussing you out for saying all that nonsense to her.

[sloppyzengarden]

Deep blue oceans

Heyyyy loveliesss🤭 Here's another blurb, probably doesn't make sense but I hope you like it! I got the inspiration from watching this tiktok and lord did it get me in my feels-

The tiktok:

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSj4oVqDX/

Characters: Late 70s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: Angst, fear of being the one people are angry at, crying, loss of loved one, divorce, life pretty much being ripped away

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a @theelvisprincess @hooked-on-elvis @thelonelyheart @polksaladava

_____________________________________________

Everything is falling apart.

Everything that he tried to control, everyone he tried to please, every emotion he tried to keep stable is all falling apart.

He disappointed the colonel.

He disappointed his daddy.

He disappointed his fans.

Elvis doesn’t know what to do anymore, he’s hiding in the bathroom wanting to get away from all the arguing. He’s crying, sobbing, shaking, lightheaded, he’s a mess. His life is a mess.

His beloved Mama died because she got worried. Drinking and worrying about him when he was away in the army and the woman he thought loved him, ran away to that guy. Taking his baby, taking the love of his life away with her and the Press, digging for every detail of his life, the life he wants private, It’s hurting him so much but he’s in too deep to realize. You know though.

Elvis just wants to make everyone happy, bring joy into people’s lives and sing until he can’t no more. You know that’s what he wants because that’s his life purpose he tells you, it’s what God planned. God planned for him to entertain.

And from that first moment you met him, seeing that cheeky lopsided grin and dirty blond hair you knew straight away he was special. You were young, 18 but you knew. You remember 19 year old him telling you all the things he wanted to do, all the things to make his Mama and Daddy proud and it still brings a weak smile to your heart.

All Elvis wanted, all this little boy from Tupelo wanted was to bring smiles to people’s faces, to save the world like the superhero he doesn’t know he is.

“Elvis…” You call out just above a whisper, delicately picking his face up into your hands. Wiping the tears off of his puffy red cheeks, you purse your lips at the sight of him sobbing here on the tiled bathroom floor in his white jumpsuit that hugs him almost uncomfortably, his blue eyes staring up at you, frightened. Scared of what is going to happen and that rips you apart because those are the same eyes that once looked at you with the most excitement you have ever seen, eager to know what is going to happen. The pair of eyes that give you reassurance when you feel down, the orbs that show bravery and joy, the deep blue oceans that tell you the most world-shattering story.

Every. Single. Time.

“I can’t do this a-a-any-anymore, Y/n, I’ve made everyone mad.” He stutters, a deep voice whimpering into your warm shoulder as your hand goes into his hair, massaging his scalp.

“I’m not mad at you.” You comfort.

He shakes his head. “I-I-I didn’t do anythin’ jus’- jus’ wanted ta-”

You shush him, gently. “I know, baby…”

Wrapping your arms around his head to encourage him to lean on you, a sigh flowing from your lips as his hands grip onto your tear stained nightie, burying his wet face under your jaw. “You just want to make everyone happy…”

He nods, quietly.

“Jus- w-wanted ta make everyone happy…”

[sloppyzengarden]

Simon doesn't think he's ever tasted something so good in his fuckin' life before.

He didn't know what he was in for this time when he got back from deployment, and nicotine and whiskey ain't got shit on this. Poor bastard can't remember the last time he had something so good invade his senses like this.

You said you had a treat for him, made him lay down, and promptly sat on his face, and Simon was fuckin' gone. Don't know what the fuck possessed him but he took one whiff and was instantly hooked.

Simon feasted on your cunt like a man starved. Tongue, lips, fingers, you name it. Anything to get his fix, anything to make you moan.

Anything to make you cum.

Didn't let up for shit, not even to breathe, and when you voiced your concern while whimpering and trembling, Simon didn't give a fuck and still continued to love on your pretty cunt because where the bloody fuck are you going?

Shut up. Shut the hell up and let him make you cum, sweetheart.

Actions have consequences. Shouldn't have made him feel so bloody good, shouldn't have poked at the beast, and he'd be damned if he didn't think this was the best post-deployment gift he's ever gotten. Better than the nicotine high or occasional pity wank.

Fuck, it's been so long and he's absolutely disgusting about it.

And Simon's aware of it all, the way his cock is so hard it's bloody painful and leaking in his pants, the way you're grinding on his face, smothering it and fucking his mouth (don't you dare stop, either), and how his everything is consumed by you. You coat his stubble, fill his nostrils up with your scent, his tastebuds are fired up—bloody hell, need he explain more?

Simon could die a happy man right now, and what would his gravestone say? Here Lies Simon Riley, Died Eating Cunt.

He'd chuckle if he wasn't too busy at the moment. Shit, he probably did if the way you're moaning is any indication. That felt good, didn't it, sweetheart?

It's your turn now to say his name like a prayer and believe in him just as he believes in you.

And it's the best fucking thing to ever bless his ears.

--

Turning Simon Out: Part I and Part II.

[sloppyzengarden]

Elvis Presley, Joe Esposito, Frank Sinatra and Fred Astaire hanging out in 1969.

[sloppyzengarden]

Tired sunken eyes stare at you for a while. The smoke in the room tells you he's been here for a while, just waiting for you. His hand beckons you to come closer, spreading his legs just a little wider as an invitation you can't decline.

"You doin okay, si?", you'll ask when you near him. His eye bags look the slightest bit deeper and his nose more bent than when he left. A new scar stretches across his jaw and through his cheek.

"...missed you, doll", he sighs the words out like it's the easiest thing in the world. Letting his cheap cigarette fall to the ceramic floors when you sit down on his thigh, his other leg stomping the flames dead under his foot.

"Wrap yer arms around my neck just like tha'", he'll murmur the moment your ass sits on his thigh. Grabbing your wrists to lead your hands just to where he wants you.

He releases your hands when you hook your palm around his neck. Gently pulling him down when he hides his face in your neck. Sighing out a huff of burnt breath.

He's never felt so loved.

[sloppyzengarden]

Lil Satnin

Another little blurb for you loveLIESSSS, love you so much🫶

Characters: Late 60s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: kinda proofread, insecurities, crying

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @hooked-on-elvis @i-r-i-n-a-a @theelvisprincess @thelonelyheart @polksaladava

_____________________________________________

You sigh.

Why do you look like this? This extra fat on your arms, on your stomach, thighs, face, how is it possible that Elvis loves you?

You're nowhere near as pretty as those girls you see squealing and smiling as they reach up towards the stage for your husband, with their slim faces and figures, in little mini dresses that you sure know are size zeros. Their hair done up in the most beautiful of ways that you have ever seen and it makes you sad that you once had that but now no longer do.

“Maybe he doesn't love me-”

“Honey, are ya in ‘ere?”

“Huh?” Your head whips around, looking away from the mirror as the bathroom door opens. “Oh, hi baby.”

A small smile appears seeing his twinkling blue eyes.

“What’cha doin’ in here?” He asks with a cheeky smirk, gently pushing on the door behind him letting a quiet click echo through the room.

Your head shakes. “Nothing…just…” sighing at your own reflection once you look back. You feel yourself grow even more insecure with him near and hesitantly your arms go around the front of your waist.

Elvis frowns, his smile faltering. “Why're you covering up for?’ the tone in his voice falling to a delicate softness.

You shrug, moving from one foot to the other your head lowers feeling ashamed but it quickly lifts again at the touch of warm, strong, loving arms wrapping around your waist. “El…”

His puppy eyes staring at you in the mirror, chin resting on your shoulder and hands prying your arms away Elvis breathes out a sigh.

“Baby, baby, baby…”

Your heart thumps.

“My girl doesn't know what she's thinkin’ about… all this here…” Rubbing your tummy and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, he groans. “Is all f’me, all of this I love s’much…”

Your vision begins to blur. “E…”

“Makes me happy ta see my lovin' and food is taking care of my baby.”

Your breath hitching, reaching a hand up to wipe a tear. You sniffle.

“She’s my special girl…”

His finger tilting your chin up, your eyes soften seeing all the love he has for you.

“My special lil satnin.”

[sloppyzengarden]

Simon Riley likes to be crushed. Fuckin' smushed beneath your weight. He loves having you sleep on top of him, sprawled over his chest or all curled up; doesn't damn well matter.

He pouts and grumbles if you hover over his face, especially after he demands you sit on him. He grips your thighs in his big, meaty paws; pulls you down onto his face if he has to.

If you say you're too heavy, he scoffs. It's unacceptable, to have you thinking like that. You can't possibly think he's that weak, can you? No. That's a foolish though.

"Shu' up," Simon mutters into your flesh, lightly slapping the meat of your thigh. "Can 'ear ya thinkin'."

His crooked nose is buried next to your clit, eyes nearly rolled back in sheer bliss. Every word is mumbled against your folds, unshaven jaw nuzzling your sensitive skin. He's in utter ecstasy like this.

"I ain't a weak man, pretty thing."

[sloppyzengarden]

GHOST who always struggled to show you affection whenever he wore his mask, the one that only uncovered his warm, brown eyes. Holding your hand or saying things wasn’t enough, but pulling down his mask all the way down to his chin was also unpractical.

That’s when he thought of it — nose kisses.

He doesn’t have to worry about his identity being discovered in public when he only pulls his mask down to his nose, so he can gently rub it against yours, making you giggle every single time.

Not only that become a way of showing off his affection in public, somehow it also started to become a habit to do it every single time. Even when his lips are on display and it is so easy to just kiss him properly, you always go first to softly rub your nose against his. Now every time he goes to work, you have to rub the tips of your noses gently together, it also became a great way of waking you up in the morning without straddling you with his harsh mouth kisses.

That became almost a label of your relationship, of the way that it is easy to be gentle in love.

[sloppyzengarden]

Most desperate things the 141 boys have done for sex because I can't stop thinking about it <3

John's begged for it. I mean on his hands and knees begging for a taste. I know this man is an avid pussy pronoun user too. He has been on his knees in front of you as you sit pretty on his couch, trailing kisses up your soft belly to your tits and then back down to your thighs.

"C'mon sweet girl lemme' 'ave a taste of 'er yeah? Know she fuckin' needs me hm? Just look at tha'" as he runs a thumb of the wetness that's seeped through you thin panties, just waiting for you to say the words and let him tear them off.

He knows if anybody else in the 141 or if any of his fellow soldiers could see him now, the Captain Price practically drooling over you and sweet talking your cunt like it could hear him they would have a fit. But he couldn't care less because you looked so fucking good right now so "just let 'er 'ave what she wants alright sweet thing?"

I just know Kyle has spent 70% of his last month's pay check on hotel room because the 5 star pent house suite was the only hotel room in your area left available during the holidays. He played it cool with an arm around your waist assuring you it was fine, acting like this was the room he wanted to get, not the one he was forced to have. But if he was being forced to do anything thank god it was spoiling you.

"Don't worry 'bout it love. Just make 'urself comfortable" He'll say in a sultry sweet tone, planting kisses up the side of your neck before excusing himself to the lavish bathroom to check his bank account. He had to make sure he still had enough to buy you a nice breakfast in the morning.

And you're already layed out so pretty for him on the bed so he's not complaining about anything. Especially not the mirror situated on the ceiling right above the bed. Oh and don't you dare suggest splitting the cost, "just split your legs for me hun, 's all ya need to do"

Johnny is eager, like so so eager. When a passionate make out session on your couch got even more heated than either of you had previously expected and he now had his fingers playing with the waistband of your skirt, letting his cold finger tips splay themselves just below. When he got to the hem of your panties and began to hook a finger into the lace you had to stop him,

"Johnny"

"Yea?" He was breathless, chasing your lips when you pulled away to talk. You almost felt bad for separating but if he was going to touch you, there was one request you needed to make. You had felt his nails drag across your thighs moments earlier, it felt wonderful but they were...a little long.

"Do ya nae want this hen?" He'd ask, looking at you like you were a piece of art. Pleading with his eyes, shining like they'd spill tears if you said yes.

"No, no I want this, I want you so so much. It's just..." you trailed off

"Tell me what's wrong bonnie and I'll fix it, yeah?" his hands kept you grounded to his lap either a soft grip on you ass.

"It's just- you're nails, they're a little long" your request was nothing more than whisper.

'Oh' Johnny knew he probably should have just asked for clippers, but you felt so damn good on his lap. He could feel your warm cunt through the zipper of his jeans and with your tits brushing against his chest he couldn't bring himself to move.

You watched in shock as he just began to just tear his nails off with his teeth. Without a second thought his pointer and middle finger nails were bit off to the skin. He paused and looked at his right hand before ripping off the index finger as well.

"Johnny what's gotten into you-?"

But he's already got his hands back down your skirt. Soft finger tips slipping between your folds. "Feel better now eh?" And when you just nuzzled your nose into his neck and let out a little whimper he chuckled "I'll take tha' as a yes"

Simon swallows his pride for the first time in his life for a chance at hitting it raw. You tell him it's okay to not use protection, that you're on birth control. But you needed to make sure that he didn't have any stds seeing as they're even more of a pain when you're on birth control. Not that you don't trust him you just want to make sure and it's not a problem for him seeing as he has to get tested every other week being in the military.

He doesn't, however, have his records on him at the moment and with a girl already lying in his bed telling him he can cum inside. Plus a raging hard on, he doesn't exactly feel like running back to base to get the paper work. So...next best thing.

"Price-"

"Rare for ya to call on leave Simon, whatchya need?" Price responds, his voice cracking through the face time call, a cigar dangling from his lips.

"Sir I need..." he looks back at you, your eyes expectant and shining. You wanted him and he wasn't going to fuck this up. "Can you send me a picture of my last med check results?" He rushes out the last part, elbow on his knee and hand dragging over his face.

Price quirks one eyebrow but doesn't look like he's going to ask any questions. Unlucky for Simon though, Johnny was also in the room. His voice distantly coming through the phone,

"The feck ya need those for l.t.?" He questioned

Simon just groaned, soap's addition to this call just made it even more frustrating. But he snapped out of his frustration at the sound of price opening his file cabinet. "What part?" Price asked, dismissing Johnny with a wave of his hand.

"The-" Simon began, this was fucking embarrassing but when he looked back to you, now perched on your hands and knees, the plush of you hips resting on your ankles, he'd do anything at this point. "STD results." He responded plainly.

"Aye! No fuckin' way mate!" The sound of a chair scraping the floor could be heard as Johnny began to clammer over to his captain who pulled the sheet from his files.

"Ya didn't tell me he was in the room" Simon growled

"Ya didn't ask" Price droned

Johnny's head popped into frame "show me what she looks like ey l.t?"

"Not happening" Simon deadpanned

"Aw c'monnnn" The sergeant whined "just proud of you for finally getting some action!"

"Enough." Simon could see you biting your lip to stifle a laugh out of the corner of his eyes, a curious look in your eyes at his reddened face.

"Sent a picture to ya Simon" Price huffed, letting Johnny give him one last "good luck!" Before hanging up the phone.

You were a mess of giggles as he just shook his head and shoved the phone results in your face for you to look at. "See. Clean."

"Okay okay" you giggled, finally letting his form eclipse you back onto the pillows

"Went through a hell of a lot of trouble for ya, sweet girl" he whispered, nipping at the shell of your ear.

"I'll make it worth it" you said, kissing the corner of his lip and tangling your fingers in the back of his hair

"Christ woman" he groaned, feeling his cock twitch at your promise, "gunna' be the death a' me"

[sloppyzengarden]

𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭