#june’s chit chat

[piastrisun]

can’t wait to see them race next year <333, i’m so excited already.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

okay mermay is technically over...HOWEVER-

legacy exploring around fontaine at dusk as a treat for not going haywire while ajax attempted to do all his paperwork, and coming across a small lake hidden behind rocks and trees with a lovely oceanid(in their human form) living inside!

it is ALWAYS mermay in my heart!!!!

Foul Legacy's drawn in by the sound of singing, a gentle melody dancing through the thick forest and trees before breaking into a small clearing. the pond nestled deep in the woods is crystal clear, surrounded by lumidouce bells and lakelight lilies, and within the water was a single body, glowing and sitting perfectly at the bottom of the lake. your blue-streaked hair floats around you as you sing, your only companions being tiny fish and seagrass- then there's an echoing chirp above you, and when you tilt your head up you meet a faceted sapphire gaze attached to a crimson red mask and two twinned horns, all wobbly and distorted by the motion of the water

Legacy's breath catches when you peek your head above the water, looking at him curiously, and he lets out a delighted trill

you're so different from each other, yet the same, both inhuman and alone in the world. even in your human form a few of your fins remain, Legacy touching them carefully with awe while you examine his horns and armor. you play with the water so effortlessly, a collection of tiny animals at your beck and call, and Legacy adds a miniature narwhal from his Vision, watching you smile happily. he shows you Ajax, half of himself, and you allow him to glimpse your true Oceanid form, elegant and floating in midair. yet still, you don't dare to leave your pond- Egeria had told you, long ago, that the world was dangerous- and Legacy whines sadly, but gently nuzzles his face against your cheek, a promise to return again

that day, the rain that falls is particularly bright and fresh

[joeyclaire]

come to the ocean // june

[rainbowdelicsunshine]

How do you feel about all the old chucky stuff? How would the characters in your childs play au react to old chucky?

I really like them, not as much as Bride or Seed (Seed is my favorite!) but I still really like them

The only one I really don't like is CP3 (it's just really lame compared to all the other movies)!

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As for reactions from my characters from my OceanBerry AU (note, I'll just be using the kids for this to not make this ask too long to read):

Glen: I feel like Glen would see the Chucky from the original trilogy to be much more of a jerk ass and much more quicker to anger than his dad is now

Think of how in God of War: Ragnarok, Kratos had a much calmer demeanor and approach to things thanks to having to raise his son. That's basically Chucky, except he still has a much more extroverted and wild approach to things (like still LOVING to kill people the way he always has)

Glenda: Thinks he would've been a helluva ton of fun to hang out with since he was doing crazy shit like ripping off his hand and turning it into a knife hand

Though she would freak out about the possibility of losing him like the Daddy's Girl she is!

Buddy: He finds this version of this father to be very intriguing and a very excellent hunter and beast when it came to his kills, but Buddy wouldn't have had the energy to keep up with his mood swings and anger issues

Jake: He can only tolerate this version of his dad through a TV screen (yes, canonically the Chucky goes Psycho movie is a thing and a franchise in this AU), way too much impulsive anger to keep up with

June: Finds him to be badass and hilarious, would've been a little shit to that version of her dad just as much as she is now lolol!

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Thank you soso very much for sending in this ask my good friend, it was really fun to answer!

I hope to see you here again and have a fantastic day!!

[regular-human-being]

I finished another qsmp tntduo au fic last night!! :D

[art-freakazoid]

July 4

I wouldn’t be as mad right now if peps didn’t start lighting fireworks when it wasn’t even July 4 like what?! It’s okay now but before it wasn’t even July yet

[amimuu]

“Had I found you sooner—“

Dtiys submission…from June—oops

BLEHH GOAT ART BE UPON YE!!!

More doodles under the cut

Boy oh boy! Proceeds to sweat nervously

Imagine forgetting to post some art for months. Haha. Couldn’t be me. Nope. Not at all. Sweats even more

Sooo this is actually my participation for when Mikey held a dtiys back in June and I participated (told em I’d find a way to make it angsty. Did I succeed?). Was originally planning to post it after results were in but uhm. I. Forgot. But since I’m currently in the middle of an ✨artblock✨ you get it now. Yippee!

There’s also some more recent doodles sneaked in here for the sillies including this one

Aka, how Chime and Callum’s (The Lamb and the Goat) “first” meeting went like. Technically, it’s the first time they’ve seen each other. Technically. Let’s not forget these guys are from different dimensions. And like isn’t that Callum guy dead or something?

Cuz if you were to ask them, they’d tell you they go a looooong way back. Perhaps too long.

Welp. Anyway, that’s all from me today. As always inbox is open for anyone to come by and say hi, I always love a nice chit-chat. Until next time!

Extra: non-colored ver + sketch

[piastrisun]

both. at the same time.

harris: i get shy...

drew: yeah?

[piastrisun]

as a mexican, i’m upset about checo leaving red bull, about méxico indefinitely leaving the grid after fourteen years. we’re losing the only representation we had, but i know it’s for the best for him. i’m, however, relieved he won’t be dealing with the mistreatment of the media. gracias checo por poner a nuestro país en alto, por hacer sonar nuestro himno en lo más alto del podio, por representarnos en un deporte repleto de europeos. gracias, gracias, gracias. can’t wait to see what you’ll do next, sé que te volveremos a ver pronto. never give up. 🇲🇽 <3

[therealslimshakespeare]

Like Lightening

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

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

Word count: 5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Buuuuut?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could almost taste her by memory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s it make you want?”

“You.”

“Which’aways?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was enough to make any woman proud and wet.

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

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

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

“No!”

“Mhmm.”

“Heavens. But never- you never-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I intended to slather it on my wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hand began to move again.

Slathering.

“Hmm?”

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

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

Shining, all of her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

“Where?” Elvis rumbled in her ear.

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

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. Xoxo 💋

@prompted-wordsmith

@powerofelvis

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

@dragonkingsdaughter

@presleysgirl6

@that-hotdog

@mydarlingelvis

@presleysweetheart

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@sexystarfish

@whatstruthgottodowithit

@suraemoon

@lialocklear

@elvispresleywife

@presleysgirl6

@ipostwhtifeel

@jaqueline19997

@queenheartz

@starryschoolgirl

@elvisalltheway101

[blueshistorysims]

June 1936, Henford-on-Bagley, England

Amalia had been looking forward to her sixth birthday ever since Miranda started school. It had been so boring in the nursery without her brother or best friend there to play with. Uncle Albert and Aunt Odette came all the way from Paris with her cousins Marie-Louise and Victor, and she was more than happy to play with her cousins while all the adults chit-chatted about stuff she didn’t know or care about.

The worst part was that Amalia’s Granny didn’t come. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t attended or even called. Had she or Simon-Elliot done something? Papa wasn’t explaining anything either, and all he had done since the new king was crowned was complain about him or mention something about a civil war in Spain. Amalia didn’t know why her parents did not like the king or whatever was going on in Spain, but now her father was always in London for parliament. She thought it was all very stupid, only wanting everything to go back to when Rebecca still lived there and Miranda’s father was alive. 

[shutupcake]

let me out

@bettertwin9000

[witchofthesouls]

So is that pretend marriage Cyber au in space, does that mean Smokescreen is the normal one while Optimus and June is that weird couple that vibes on a different level?

If this is the Do As the Romans Had Done idea, then yeah. Optimus is just that buff need that's really quiet and serious, yet unintentional feral and/or terrifying. And June, while able to blend into mundane societies, has a really broken scale of a Danger sense.

I'm definitely keeping it as Other!Au, but now I'm leaning that June comes from a long line of magic-users: alchemists, sorcerers, enchanters, and what not. Think of them between deep in the mystical many-kinds-of-arts and unhinged field work scientists.

And that's why June isn't too freaked out about everything because this species-swap with an impromptu space adventure isn't the weirdest shit that happened in the family.

Smokescreen is the normal guy from a civilization that fell to an inconceivable scale of planet-wide infighting, but he attributes any weirdness from the others as "Oh, they used to humans, so it's a learning curve" and "Primes doing Prime-things."

Meanwhile, Optimus is climbing extreme cliffs to reach a stray goat without a by-your-leave or safety rigging and more than capable of fishing with his bare hands off a waterfall to use it as a teaching moment for vocabulary and anatomy structures for the kids.

June, while is more affable and likes chit-chat over recipes and the weather, is also the person that made a deal with a fae that's an Archivist in a forgotten library beneath a massive cave system to hunt down extremely rare specimens that were once predominant in textile spellcraft for protection and health. That deal ended with Jack, by the way, so he's still a spooky fae-child.

Smokescreen is deeply engrossed by Optimus in a bar: really terrible at small talk but more than able to consume fuel that's used for stripping rust infections from a tank without a grimace and starts a fist fight when someone tries to drug another person's drink without them knowing.

June is in a shadowy corner doing a secret handshake with an indescribable stranger because she recognizes their cloak's stitching and scented tobacco from her (several greats) grandmother's fellowship. Now she's back to doing odd jobs or quests.

Smokescreen rationalizes it that June was a medical professional for humans, so it isn't too out of the realm why she's interested into toxins because he's more distracted by Optimus dropping bombs that he consumed hallucinogens as a sparkling and managed to survive to make to Iacon.

[autisticempathydaemon]

I know this little chapel (on the boulevard)

Christian and his plus one get bored after the Shaw double wedding ceremony.

Thank god a church is never lacking in secret, confined spaces to entertain oneself in.

Tags: Alexis/Christian, surprise bitch you thought you’d see the last of me, me being my one true rarepair love, Mild violence and language, PG-13 intimacy, the wedding was in a church but was not very religious beyond that, my entry for the Skyside Hot Boi Honeymoon event

Also available on AO3

On a beautiful June morning, a church just outside downtown Dahlia reverberates with the sound of the Shaw weddings: joyful chit chat, rice falling to the cobblestones, tolling wedding bells, and guests making out in the confessional.

“Alexis,” Christian starts, interrupted by full, painted lips moving against his and freshly manicured hands pulling at his tie. “You promised me you’d behave.”

“Mm, did I?” Alexis asks, tugging lightly on Christian’s lip with dull, human teeth and grinning as his sharp intake of breath rings loud in the tight, confined wooden booth. “That doesn’t sound like me. Maybe we should take you to the vet to get your ears checked.” Crimson talons travel up his torso to pinch at said ears, scratching the tender skin behind them, and Christian digs his own nails into Alexis’s waist to not shiver at the sensation.

“Then it’s a good thing I recorded you saying it,” he says with snark and a playful nip at her lips. Alexis pulls away from him, enough so Christian can see her narrowed silver eyes and the amused, sharp quirk of her grin in the sliver of light through the confessional doors.

“Did you really? My word means so little to you?”

“Yeah, as it should,” Christian says, sitting back against the sill of the confessional screen and jerking his chin up in her direction in a defiant, waiting gesture. A beat, a breath, a moment where the honed steel of her eyes on his holds him captive like a dagger against his throat, and Alexis laughs. It’s a bright, surprisingly girlish sound, one Christian relishes, and he can feel the timbre of it in his chest when she presses herself back against him, stepping into the waiting welcome of his open legs. He also feels her cool, nimble fingers making light, easy work of his belt and a passing wonder as to why he’s trying to stop her again.

“Petal, we’ll miss the reception,” Christian protests as he tilts his head back against the screen window.

“We won’t miss much,” Alexis croons, lips quick and hot against his pulse, fingertips teasing and tempting against his stomach. “Someone will catch a bouquet. Many someones will get wasted. There’ll be pleasantries, speeches, crying, and terrible food.”

“Dancing,” Christian adds disdainfully, his hands slipping from Alexis’s waist to the swell of her ass, swathed in wine-red satin.

“Dancing,” she concurs, trailing her nails down the tuxedo-d thighs bracketing her thighs and massaging the tight muscles beneath her hand in that way that makes the werewolf melt and wag his metaphorical tail. “It will be boring, pedestrian, draining in a way that won’t be fun for either of us. Have we not suffered enough saccharine banality and cheap champagne today?”

“God, you’re such a fucking snob and princess,” Christian says before pulling Alexis in for a kiss.

“You like it,” she says, unwilling to let him have the last word, before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down, closer, tighter. The wooden slat beneath Christian creaks ominously, loudly in the confined space, but that’s the least of his concerns as his vampire’s body presses flush and plush against him. With a quietly smug curl of the lips, she lets herself be pulled in turn, into him, against the hardening heat of his body. They push and prod and preen under each other’s hands and kisses until Alexis has her back to the opposite wall, Christian peering down at her even in her heels.

“We’ve got to go,” he says quietly, the words soft and resigned against her cheek.

“I haven’t got to do anything,” Alexis responds, lips following the slope of his jaw to press a warm kiss to his ear and a playful nip to the lobe.

“Except be difficult maybe,” he says, laughing and leaning into the warmth of her breath and mouth. “C’mon, princess. Your audience and loathing public await you. We can’t not make an appearance, you haven’t even made anyone threaten your life yet.”

“Vinny already threatened to slit my throat this afternoon when I stole his coffee. Been there, done that, onto better things. Maybe even onto you, if you’d behave and stop being a bore.” Alexis’s hands travel down his chest to toy with his undone belt, and a heat flares in Christian’s blood, his cheeks, even as he lightly bats her hand away.

“Time out, Getty.” Alexis rolls her eyes, groans a gruff, inelegant sound, and acquiesces, placing her hands in his with an unimpressed glare. “You don’t like it when I fuck you in my queen-size bed. You complain about the thread count and how your bones ache in the morning- your immortal, practically invulnerable bones. No way am I going to fuck you in a glorified closet when I’m going to have to hear you bitch about it later.” His girl’s mouth opens, jaw dropping as she makes an offended, affronted sound and goes to retort. Christian smacks the curve of Alexis’s hip- quick, familiar, and done. She hisses in response, in indignance, and he sticks his tongue out at her, childish and mocking. “Yes, you would, and you will. Just do it after I do the chivalrous thing and show you off to my friends and family, alright?”

“Since when are you chivalrous?” Alexis retorts, smacking his thigh in kind with a dig of her nails into the suit fabric for good measure. “And since when are you so excited to parade me around like a shiny toy? Do you have someone other than friends and family you’re trying to impress?” Frustrated and more than a little vindicated, Christian throws his arms in the air, the drama of the action undercut by the thump of his hands hitting the short, confessional ceiling.

“I knew that’s what this was about, you bitch. You are not as slick and sly as you think you are.”

“Neither are you,” Alexis snarls. “I should-“

“-should get going before we miss the party!” Asher says, opening the confessional door just enough so the spatting couple can see his turned back. “You should also get yourselves covered and decent. We’re in a church after all.”

“What are you doing here, Asher?” Christian asks, flustered and hurriedly tucking in his shirt, fastening his belt. Alexis, in contrast, is stony with an imperious curl of a frown on her face as she adjusts the bust of her dress. The werewolf steps on her toe in his haste, and she clicks her tongue at him before fixing his tie. “Don’t you have a reception to get ready for?”

“Hard to do when I’m missing a groomsman.” Asher says, turning to grin and peek at them through the fingers covering his eyes. “Are y’all done dealing with the fact you both have exes here- who also came with their mates, by the way- so we can get this party started?” His grin is both beatific, shit-eating, and unrelenting as the couple deal with one of the day’s grooms overhearing their argument.

“Bite me, Talbot,” Alexis snaps, checking his shoulder as she pushes past Christian and steps out the booth. Asher’s grin only widens, the sparkle in his eyes brightening, even when Alexis turns her nose up at the hand he offers her.

“That’s a privilege reserved exclusively for my mate and new spouse, but the interest is much appreciated, Miss Solaire.” The newlywed punctuates the flirtation with a saucy wink and can’t help but laugh at the twin looks of revolt and disgust they give him.

“C’mon, Alexis,” Christian says, taking her hand and looping it around his arm as he ushers them around the beaming, besotted groom. “His marital bliss is turning my stomach. Let’s get going before his smug face makes me hurl.”

“Our reception might be the wrong place for that, especially since you’re in the wedding party, Chrissy!” Asher pats the other wolf on the shoulder before making his way out the church, walking backwards through the door with a playful flare and an accusatory finger. “Don’t make us wait long. I don’t want to get wolf hair on my tux, but I will if I must, and you know Milo will lose his shit if that happens!” Christian shoos him away with an insistent, annoyed gesture but makes his way to Alexis’s Corvette all the same, opening the driver’s side door for her and lending a hand as she sweeps the fabric of her dress into the seat.

“If you so much as touch Amanda, I’ll rip off your hands and make it look like an accident,” Alexis says, fixing her lipstick in the visor mirror

“It’s a good thing I upgraded and have my hands full with you. Though I reserve the right to change my mind and wash them clean of you if you flirt with Sam. Then I’m leaving you- both, out in the sun.” Christian leans an elbow on the center console, face confident and expectant and once again vindicated when his girl meets him in the middle with a swift kiss and a gentle hand fixing his mussed hair.

“Cute. Now put on your fucking seatbelt so we can get this over with.”

[thisdayindnphistory]

hiiiii

hiiiiii this is so random but i just have so much lore to share. i am so happy that dan & phil are back and this content is so *chefs kiss* (for the most part) like omg. and the phandom is BACK. honestly a big influence for me getting back was phannie twt. literally so funny i could cry laughing. u guys make my life. the jokes. award-winning. i just love having fun and laughing about shit and im so happy u guys are on the same page and level of humor as me.

i've been looking at this page & all my old posts and like omfg i cannot believe i used to trauma dump on here so much?? very sorry guys. i was such a child. now i'm a legit real adult with 2 jobs. I moved back in with my parents after graduating college with 0 money and 0 full-time job with benefits which is the last thing anyone would ever want to do at my big age and life is so boring and agonizing i could die. i just started lurking and obsessing over phan lore all over again out of pure boredom (and lack of finding a real big-girl job) and now im back i think for now. if you haven't noticed i usually come back around June because all the content is already done for me from when I posted from January - July 2018 so it's easy to just re-post it 💀

i just love their lore and i love this fan culture and i love attention. i really want to post on here more and post more than just these corporate tone posts i want to try and make jokes with u all and chit chat and GOSSIP and just have fun if thats ok with u guys <3

[rainbowdelicsunshine]

Infodump to me about your au. I am holding my hand out for information. Gimme it

AAAAAAAA YES TIME FOR ME TO UNVEIL NEW INFO ABOUT OCEANBERRY/MY NEW HEADCANONS!!!!!

I now headcanon Junior to be a transfem agender person named Juniper (June for short) (I thank @cult-of-dollbabies for inspiring the name + hc) who is dating Grant from S3 sometime after they met in their music class in their last year of elementary school and later on rock band club in middle school!

June had realized that they felt they had no gender whatsoever but would like to present themselves as feminine when they were in that said last year of elementary school shortly after they had broken things off with Lexy (it was mutual in both ends since they started feeling more like siblings than a couple over time, a year or so later, Lexy started dating Nadine), a few months after, June met Grant!

------------------------------------------------

I'll stop here for now to not ramble on too long, but feel free to send more questions about OceanBerry or anything else Chucky related since it's so enjoyable to me!

I'm soso happy that you sent this to me, it was so much fun to answer! Have an amazing night and I hope you enjoy reading this!!