#yandere big daddy

[wanderingelvis]

hi girlie! love your work, please could you write about a reader that loves sex with ep but is still very innocent?

i hope you like it! thank you for requesting!

masterlist is here for more elvis fics takin' new elvis requests here

wc - 2.8k

warnings - SMUT, daddyk!nk, profanity, overstim, praisek!nk, innocencek!nk, all the usual stuff for me

Elvis was the one to expose you to a lot of your firsts. Your first kiss, your first time in Las Vegas, your first designer dress, your first sip of alcohol but most importantly, your first experience of sexual pleasure. 

Now, despite your innocence, even you knew that Elvis had been with many lovers and was well known for his abilities in the bedroom. Sure, it made you a little hesitant at first, a little scared that he would find someone more exciting and experienced than you and forget all about you. Actually, you were more than a little scared of that happening, you were terrified, you didn't even want to fall for Elvis because you never felt that you were worth the famous man's time or attention but oh Lord, you fell hard.

And you could tell straight away why so many people fell for him, when he looked at you, it felt like he was looking through to your soul and out the other side again. It was like you were the only person in the world to him in that moment.

But when Elvis introduced you to the world of pleasure and sex, you couldn't get enough. You were nervous during your first times, so, so nervous and Elvis could tell. But he went slowly with you, praising you and cooing at you as you took all of him, even if it stretched your walls and made a few sweet, little tears trickle down your cheeks.

Elvis would always praise you and make it clear what he was doing too, never leaving you in the dark.

"M'gonna take off these pretty lil' panties now, little girl."

"Open them lips f'me doll, that's it, just like that, good." He would hiss.

"Daddy's gotchu, s'okay baby, yer likin' that ain't ya? S'okay, I know yer overstimulated. That's my girl."

"Yer takin' my fingers so well little one, that's right, you're doin' so good f'me. You like that dontchu dolly? Yeah? M'gonna add another finger, stretch out yer pretty lil' cunt, I know you can handle it baby."

And he'd delight in watching you get so worked up under him, writhing with pleasure and practically begging for more through whimpers and tears each time.

Yet still, that sweet naivety that clouded you never left. You were always still seeking Elvis' guidance and love and attention and that's when Elvis realised the gem that he had in you.

You'd gaze up at him with uncertainty, seeking reassurance with every move as he would teach you all the ways he enjoyed being pleasured and Elvis would have to stroke your pretty little head as he taught you how to give it.

You became obsessed with feeling pleasure from Elvis, you found yourself begging and mewling for it in the morning, whispering in Elvis' ear during the day asking for him to take you, and undressing yourself at the earliest opportunity in the evenings so that Elvis would have his way with you.

And he'd always chuckle at you fondly, adoring your sweet desperation. 

You didn't even know the names of the acts that the two of you were performing but it didn't matter, your head became fuzzier and fuzzier over time, your only goal was to feel the pleasure that Elvis gave you.

And it wasn't long before Elvis realised you were his naive little nymphomaniac.

You were sat in your regular spot in the International, watching Elvis perform. You just thought he was oh so magical, the way he sang, the way he moved and gyrated on stage, captivating you and the rest of the audience. You watched tiny beads of sweat drip down his tanned face onto the chest hairs that were exposed by the white jumpsuit he wore.

He'd look over at you, every now and then, sending you a wink to make sure you knew he remembered that you were the most important little girl in the audience and by the end of the show, that sweet desperation that had started to become an all too familiar feeling, was creeping its way in. 

And Elvis just loved to tease you. He practically relished in watching you whine and plead for his touch and his love, he just thought you were so sweet, especially when you still didn't understand half of what was going on, you just got so carried away. 

So, when you and Elvis finally made it back up to the hotel suite after the show, you were nothing short of desperate. See, Elvis had this thing where he was just so damn nice to everyone that after a show, he'd go around and thank everyone for their hard work, and whilst you loved that about him, you were growing needier and needier by the second.

Elvis knew you all too well though, he knew that he was dragging this out for his little desperate baby. In fact, he didn't just know, he enjoyed it. Elvis decided to drag out the process and turn you into his own needy little mess tonight.

"You look so pretty tonight baby, y'know that? Got all dressed up n'pretty f'me huh?" Elvis teased, lowering his head slightly to kiss the top of yours as his large hand traced your skimpy, sparkly dress that he'd bought for you, only three days before. 

You gulped and nodded quickly, smiling and letting out a giggle - he'd barely touched you and yet there you were all flustered. 

It was no surprise though that just a couple of loving words and a gentle touch from Elvis would send you spiralling each time he did it. You'd never experienced life the way that you had since Elvis came into it, before Elvis, you would attend your part time job, go to the library and do your studies. It was mundane, unexciting, and repetitive. Then, you met the most famous man in the entire world and everything changed, you had so many new experiences from spending hours in lavish boutiques, to dining next to the King of Rock n' Roll as you both sat in the crowd, watching Frank Sinatra singing. 

In all honesty, it was a life you were never prepared for, you still weren't adjusted to it all that well, that's why you clung to Elvis, he was like some form of security blanket for you, a protector of sorts that looked after you and cared for you. He knew you were new to everything so he would always take things slow with you, making sure that you were always okay and comfortable. 

He'd help alleviate the stress of the lifestyle change in lots of ways, for example, he would choose what you wore each day and how you did your hair and make up. Now, many people had called this controlling, but how were you, a girl that had never stepped foot on the Las Vegas strip, supposed to know what to wear to a casino and show? Elvis knew what would look good on you and what would be appropriate for each occasion because Elvis always knew what was best for you. He ended up knowing you better than you knew yourself.

The new world that surrounded you, Elvis' world, was intoxicating. You hardly ever had time to think straight or understand what was going on around you. 

But what you did know was that when Elvis touched you, you felt good, so you chased that feeling. 

"C-Can we, can we do the stuff?" You whispered, avoiding Elvis' gaze.

Elvis smirked, oh Lord you were just the most adorable little thing. "The stuff? Well baby, yer gon' have to use a couple more words than that." Elvis said with a dry chuckle, lighting up one of the Cuban cigars that Sammy Davis Jr had gifted him.

You sighed a little, a mix of desperation, impatience, frustration and embarrassment. "Can, c-can you, touch me?" You asked softly. "Please?" You squeaked, pleadingly.

"Oh Little One," Elvis hushed, causing a sweet whine to leave your lips. "Y'need me t'touch you huh baby?" Elvis teased as you nodded almost frantically with wide eyes, leading him to chuckle at your state. "Need me t'make you feel good hm?" Elvis said, his eyes growing dark in comparison to your wide, sparkly eyes.

"Uh-huh," You squeaked adorably, barely an inch between the two of you. 

God, Elvis could just devour you. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he cupped your face in his large coarse hands, his left hand also holding his cigar between his fingers, the warm filler of it tinging the skin on your pink cheek, making you wince as you gazed up at him with eyes wider than a Disney princess.

"I ain't gon' touch you tonight honey, no, yer gon' do it all on yer own." Elvis whispered cooly, as you whined at the thought of not having him touch you, your eyes resembling that of a puppy dog as your desperation grew.

"What do you mean?" You murmured looking up at Elvis tentatively with a shaky voice as Elvis placed his large hand on the small of your back and guided you to the bed where he set you down, moving you like you were his own little doll, but in many ways, that's exactly what you were.

"You're so needy Little One, yer gon' have t'learn how to pleasure yerself baby," Elvis teased, facing you as you sat upright, letting his hands roam up your sides as your body trembled in his hold.

You chewed on your lip cutely, "Are you not gon' touch me at all?" You asked, your head tilting.

"No honey, y'gotta learn how to touch yerself, yer gon' touch yerself f'me okay baby?" Elvis instructed and you nodded despite feeling apprehensive. "Good girl." Elvis praised. "All I'm gon' do is get you undressed so I can watch all of you as you play with your lil' pussy."

You shivered as Elvis' coarse hands shimmied your dress up, exposing your white panties that already had a wet patch that was making the fabric sheer and translucent, letting Elvis see the pretty pink flesh that was so needy. 

"Let's get these cute lil' panties off baby, looks like y'need them off." Elvis chuckled making you blush. "Oh baby, m'only teasin." Elvis said, soothing you as he dragged the damp panties over your legs, letting them pool at your feet as he grabbed each leg and helped untangle them from you, all the while being careful not to singe your skin with the burning cigar that he took a puff from every now and then. "Atta girl." He cooed. "Now, pretty girl, spread them legs f'me." Elvis instructed and you did exactly what you were told, gazing at him intently.

Elvis really had taken over your entire life, you basically worshipped the man. Sure, there was a noticeable age difference and there was a definite power imbalance but as much as you worshipped him, Elvis treated you like you were the most delicate, precious thing in his life.

Despite Elvis having all the power, he could practically feel his old men knees buckle whenever you would lie there on the mattress, staring up at him adoringly with those wide eyes full of curiosity and love. Your plump, glossy lips parted ever so slightly as you studied all of Elvis' movements as he took your tender wrist in his large hand, guiding your hand to your slick coated cunt.

Your breathing was shaky at best, your chest rising and falling ever so erratically, making Elvis smirk at how nervous you were, even though he knew how much you needed to be satisfied.

Slowly, he directed his hand over yours, making your soft, small fingers fondle your soaked folds, your slick leaking from your pussy as your fingers traced up and down your slit. 

Your gaze wandered back and forth between Elvis and what was happening 'down there', the curiosity and nervousness getting the better for you as you let out soft gasps and mewls at yours and Elvis' actions.

"Keep going." Elvis commanded, removing his hand from yours, letting you continue on with the motions as you began to pleasure yourself in front of the old man. "Tell me how it feels honey."  Elvis said, his voice emotionless as his eyes darkened on you as you squirmed about.

You blinked hazily, your mind becoming a mess, your attention becoming divided by the overwhelming sense of pleasure and the God of a man that stood at the end of the bed, towering over you, not taking his eyes off you and your body.

Only a single, small lamp illuminated the room in a dull, dark pink tone, the rest of the light coming from the Las Vegas strip, the bright lights reflecting into Elvis' suite, letting Elvis see the silouhette and highlights of your body as you let your fingers rub around your clit in circular motions, eliciting soft whines from you.

"Feels so... feels so nice." You sighed lazily, moving your hips in a pathetic attempt to create more pressure between you and your own hand - but Elvis could only find it adorable how desperate you were. "B-But," You said through breathy whimpers. "Want you."

Elvis smirked, a slight chuckle leaving him, one that had an almost sadistic tone to it as he walked to a chair opposite the bed and sat in it, taking a puff from his cigar, letting the smoke cloud him as he stared at you.

"Not tonight little girl. Yer gon' keep going until yer learn how to make yerself cum like a good girl." Elvis hissed, causing you to whine at his denial. "Tell me what yer gon' learn, I want to hear you say it." Elvis softly demanded.

"Gonna, gonna," You whined, trying to do as you're told all the while touching your cunt. "Learn how t'make myself cum." You recited, your mind becoming hazy and the pace of your fingers quickening.

"Why?" Elvis teased, enjoying watching you battle with yourself, as he made you have to think whilst he knew that all you wanted to do was mindlessly pleasure yourself.

"Good girl, m'a good girl." You whimpered, your eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"That's right baby." Elvis praised, taking a drag from his cigar, never letting his eyes leave your body. "Put your fingers in your pussy for Daddy." Elvis instructed firmly - almost coldly.

You blinked at him, pausing your motions to silently confirm what he had said to you.

"Now." Elvis growled and you nodded tearily, pushing two fingers into your soaked hole, whimpers leaving your lips as your pink cheeks felt tears trickling down them from the sensations and the experience.

"You've never fingered yerself, pretty girl?" Elvis asked, watching your trepidation and jolted movements, he could tell you were experienced from the smallest of things.

All you could manage was a shake of your head as it rested on the mattress, your eyes rolling towards the back of your head as you let your fingers pump in and out of your pink pussy - and if your cheeks weren't already pink enough, Elvis would've seen a blush creeping onto your face at the question.

You cry out adorably from the pleasuring feeling, as you practically hump your own fingers, not noticing that Elvis is now palming the large bulge in his pants.

Oh, how he loved to be the one to corrupt you like this.

"Faster." Elvis demanded before you stared at him with nerves and apprehension in your eyes. "Don't you want to be my good girl?" Elvis teased, exploiting your desire for praise.

You nodded feverishly, tossing your head back onto the mattress as you let your fingers tease your hole at a quicker pace, slipping through your walls, your own slick acting as lube.

"Look at you, so needy, doin' such a good job of playing with your cunt and puttin' on a show fr' Daddy." Elvis praised, knowing his words would send you spiralling.

And he didn't stop, urging you on with gentle commands, praises and downright filthy comments as he got off to you masturbating for the first time.

"Such a needy puppy, ain't ya? That's it, doin' such a good job baby."

"Yer such a pretty sight fr' Daddy, fuckin' yerself with those fingers baby, it's okay, you can go faster, you can do it."

"Just breathe baby, y'can fit in another, I know that pretty pussy of yours can handle it. Good girl, that's it."

"Feelin' good huh? Gon' touch yerself when I'm on stage huh? Yer cunt that desperate huh kid?"

Elvis continued teasing and praising you, talking you through your first orgasm from your own masturbation, your mewls turning into full-blown cries before your body collapsed, and you lethargically pulled your fingers from your glistening, wrecked cunt.

You pushed yourself up and blinked adorably, looking at the wet patches on the silk bedding before you shyly looked up at Elvis.

"M'sorry, I made a mess on your sheets." You whimpered, still feeling overwhelmed and extra-sensitive, sniffling as you wiped away a stray tear.

Elvis couldn't help but smirk at the adorable sight in front of him.

You, the love and light of his life, a naked, flustered, soaked mess on his silk bed sheets, your chest rising and falling erratically as you came down from your self-inflicted high.

"Uh-uh, ain't nothin' t'be sorry about baby." Elvis cooed and he watched relief wash over you as you offered him the goofiest, sweetest smile at the reassurance and Elvis felt his both his heart and cock jump.

How had he been so lucky to have such a sweet, little, naive nymphomaniac such as you?

[queenie-the-court-jester]

Just thinking abt farm hand reader taking a nap on some hay bc you have a break between what you need to be doing but big daddy n Mrs bene finding you passed out. Mrs bene moves you so you're laying on her chest or round belly while big daddy scares off anyone who wants to come snuggle the sleepy human. His cock stirring at the sight of his mates laying together, imagines how you'd look stuffed with his cum and being smothered by his wife's tits...... tehe

🐮the other farmhands were terrified of trying to save you, the big bad bull guarding you didn't help the situation. Whenever one tried getting close he'd stomp and charge at them, sending them running over the fence

🐮the owners were no help, saying you'd be fine and safe but that didn't quell your colleagues worries. Mr's bené was softly Patting your head, humming a little lullaby

🐮earlier that day, you decided to take a nap under a tree and when the couple found you, they couldn't pass this opportunity up! Bené slowly picked you up and set you on her lap, combing her hands through your hair and kissing the top of your head

🐮she had to shoo big daddy away multiple times, she recognized that look in his eyes. She didn't want him to bruise your poor body, he could get very rough. And considering the fact he was pretty big "down there".. plus he hasn't showered all day. He stinks.

🐮 bené may or may not have tried coercing your sleeping form to suckle on her tits but somehow you'd always dodge her attempts.? It's like you developed a reflex for when the hybrids try anything

🐮so after a nice a nap, you wake up to see Mrs bené and the girls cooing over you, while big daddy and johnny were busy trying to hold the dog hybrids off. Brutus bit johnny in the ass, the latter punching him in the face. It's gonna be a long day..

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) Frostbites in “Red Riding Hood And a Big Bad Butcher Wolf”

(This Is a base Of the game called “Frostbites and Purple” if you don’t Know it Just watch the video from youtube...So yea...Warning..this contains  NSFW, Viewer Disgression is Adviced)

On The cold Night, The Young Maiden was riding a Lovely White Furry Horse....this Maiden Wears a lovely Blue jeans and Black Boots..a Lovely Black Long sleeve Shirt with a red Corsets on..along with a Lovely Long and Red velvet Cloak with a Hood on it...Her Name is Saphira Lorraina Fox, she’s just moved in this Strange town About 5 Months ago..at the Apartment..She was a bit quiet and Mysterious...She was in human Disguised, Her Hair is Pure Snow white..and her eyes is Sapphire Blue as the sea and her beautiful Skin is Pale Like a Moonlight.. It was Snowing hard...and she began to try to Stock the food For the winter..Until she sees the Place called “Smiles market”. She finds it Interesting But She hears the Rumors...That this Convience store was Haunted by the Ghost Wolf Who was Seeking revenge on Those who Done the wolf wrong...Once the victums goes in...and Never came back alive...She hears the news that 6 People Had been Disappeared For few months now, So she rides it there and Tied her horse up at the bike bar..and began to go in..She remove her Hood and Looked around this place...And then..She sees the Bitter Person at the cash register and sees the Name tags..and then She said sweetly with her lovely tone,” Excuse me Sir, Did i came in the wrong time?”...the Man Looked at this White Haired Maiden with a lovely red Cloak and made a scoff and stood up and Came to her..and then He said..

[takincareofbusiness]

Charlie Hodge, "Elvis loved to watch Lisa Marie playing around Graceland. One of her favorite games was to race the golf carts over the little hills and across the pasture behind the mansion, scattering the horses in front of her. She would race the carts up and down the driveway in front of the mansion with fans craning their necks over the stone wall to watch and wave. One of the yard men told Elvis one day, "You had better speak to her about racing that thing. She's going to get hurt one of these days. "Well, she's going to have to learn those things for herself, sooner or later," Elvis said.

Lisa Marie had a way of bugging Elvis that he never did get on top of. She would start calling him Al-vis instead of Elvis. He would try to correct her. Patiently. "It's El-vis, honey. Not Al-vis, you can say that." She would try again and make the same "mistake." She knew what she was doing.

[wanderingelvis]

firstly, love your work!! second, can you write something about elvis being protective as well as maybe some Memphis Mafia content too? 🎀

i have a few of these requests so hopefully this works for all of them! 🎀🪩🕊️

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

word count: 2,508

pairing: 70s elvis x fem reader

warnings: kinda yandere themes, at least very possessive/protective elvis, manipulation

You’d brought new, fresh light into Elvis’ life. He was deep in his Vegas residency and you were this sweet little thing, bringing soft giggles, affectionate touches and happiness into the International Hotel.

Equally, this purity that you radiated came with a price. Elvis felt a need to protect you, in fact, all of the Mafia did. They were paid handsomely to protect you but even if they weren’t, you tugged on all of their heartstrings and they’d all look out for you, but none more so than Elvis.

Sometimes, he’d take it too far, not that you’d realise. His protectiveness went right over your pretty little head. 

Like the time that he’d kicked out two men from a meet and greet with him after a show because they gave you a “shifty look”, or when he fired a make up assistant for letting you have even so much as a sip of champagne. 

You’d ask about them, where they’d gone as you’d sit on Elvis’ knee and Elvis would plead ignorance, telling you that he ain’t getting involved with none of that personnel nonsense and you’d nod before turning back to your fashion magazine.

It was after a show that you thought was simply magical that you decided you needed to find a way to celebrate that success with Elvis. 

And so, you settled on getting Elvis a cupcake. 

You’d seen a stand of cupcakes as you’d headed into the auditorium before the show, as you’d been escorted in, with Elvis’ stepmother Dee holding your hand painfully tightly, seeing you as more of a burden than a friend. You had wanted to stop to try one of the cupcakes but Dee had yanked your wrist a little too harshly that you didn’t get the chance.

You had wished that you’d be free to roam around on your own but Elvis had made it clear that you were always to have an escort.

He insisted that of course he trusted you, it was strangers he didn’t trust, he couldn’t, he tried to explain to you as you nodded albeit with those adorable pouty lips.

In truth, he knew you were a mischevious and curious little thing, and not only that but you were just a little too naive to be left to your own devices. 

He just knew, if someone tried to take advantage of you, they’d be able to succeed just too easily and to that end, Elvis had made a rule to always be escorted, whether you liked it or not.

But you’d decided you were a big girl, you could surely get a cupcake on your own as a present for Elvis after his amazing show and it would be okay. 

Surely.

So as the crowd roared with applause, you scooted over in the booth to Larry Geller, the latest of Elvis’ entourage.

“‘Scuse me Larry, I, um, I gotta go to the ladies room and then I gotta go n’grab this, um, this cupcake for E, I wanted t’get him this present because, well, see that was such a lovely show, and um,” You quickly realised you were rambling to justify being left alone. “I wanted to get him somethin’ pretty!” You said softly with your big eyes glittering.

“Well, you sure you can go on yer own kid? Y’know I was told that you s’posed t’have someone with yer.” Larry mumbled, not really paying attention to you but watching a gaggle of female Elvis fans that were waving to get the attention of the Mafia as Elvis could be seen heading backstage.

“Oh sure Lar! It’s just the ladies room! I’ll be back in no time!” You said, seizing your opportunity. “Promise!” You giggled, scrambling out of the booth and making your way to the cupcake stand.

By the time you’d reached the stand, shuffling through all the bodies piling out of the auditorium, you were enchanted by all the different pretty cupcakes, delicately iced and decorated individually.

Meanwhile, backstage, Elvis had reached his dressing room only to be greeted by the Mafia and not the one single person he actually wanted to see. 

“Where is Y/N?” Elvis said sternly, looking around the room and missing an absent baby.

“She wanted to surprise you with a cupcake so she went to the stand in the lobby.” Larry informed him, not thinking anything of it. 

And suddenly, the tension in the room went from 0 to 100 as everyone else, more experienced with Elvis’ rules and regulations, especially towards you, knew what a monumental fuck up had just occurred.

“What do you mean she’s gone to the lobby? Who’s with her?” Elvis practically spat, his eyes scanning the room to see no one else missing but you.

“I- I sent her on her own.” Larry stammered, realising the error he’d made.

“Goddamn it!” Elvis shouted, slamming his whiskey glass on the table, causing it to shatter and make grown men flinch. “Go get her now. If she’s noticed and I swear to God, if that little girl is hurt, if any goddamn motherfucker has put their hands on her, I’ll kill all of you with my own goddamn hands.” Elvis roared.

A big group left the room and headed out in search of the little girl who was currently in the hotel lobby. 

“It’s you!” A shrill voice hollered at you just as you’d purchased a strawberry cupcake, making you glance up. “You’re Elvis’ chick,” the elderly lady said, partially to you, partially to her friend next to her as the two older women cornered you, the little thing as you held the cupcake for Elvis in your hands, your eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“I, um, I-“ You stammered, the poor baby. 

“You are a weird little thing aren’t you?” One of them said cruelly. 

“It’s like what they say in the papers about her being like some kinda little pet of Elvis’.” The other one said, in an observational tone that made you scrunch your eyebrows sweetly in confusion. 

“Wha-“ You managed to murmur before being interrupted.

Because then the pile on started, as the enormous crowd started noticing you.

“Y/N, over here!”

“Is it true Elvis dresses you?”

“Does Elvis control you?”

“Are you really a virgin?” 

“Would ya sign this for me?”

“Who did you screw to get with Elvis?”

With tears swelling up in your big eyes and your big bottom lip jutted out, wobbling as amxiety consumed you, all you had wanted was a cupcake for Elvis. 

But maybe he had been right all along, maybe you did need someone with you at all times. 

“Y/N, come here, come with us!” An older lady said, grabbing your forearm with a pinch, making the little girl yelp.

“No, no!” You whimpered as hot tears started to spill from your eyes and down your cheeks. You cowered, trying to wriggle away from the lady. 

You were close to a fully blown panic attack, not that you knew what the words were for that. You just knew you needed your Daddy. 

“Get away from her! I said move!” A loud voice yelled. You recognised the voice as Red West and saw him and Jerry making their way through the crowds.

Red got the woman off you with ease as you clung to Jerry, petrified of your surroundings.

“S’alright now honey, we’re gon’ get you back to EP, you’re okay now darlin’.” Jerry lovingly reassured, sensing how terrified you were, as you sniffled and were rushed away by him.

Truth be told, Jerry thought Larry was a bit of an ass, he understood why Elvis liked him but he knew he wasn’t the right person to leave you with.

You were quickly ushered into the security room where you saw Elvis, surrounded by his entourage and you wasted no time in running over to him.

“There’s my little one.” Elvis soothed, consoling his baby, rubbing circles in your back as you hiccuped and clung to him. “Breathe now baby, deep breaths f’me. Are ya hurt lil’ one?” Elvis cooed but he didn’t give you the time to respond. “Jer, she hurt?” Elvis almost barked.

Jerry stood there, hands on his hips and shaking his head. “I don’t know, boss. There was a crowd and some old lady was hollerin’ at her when I got to her.” 

“A-a lady, a-a lady grabbed me and um, she wanted to, she wanted to take me away and I- I didn’t wanna, I didn’t wanna go Daddy,” You sniffled oh so vulnerably, letting out the nickname Elvis had instructed you to give him and one that slipped out when you did indeed feel needy.

Elvis felt his heart yearn to comfort you but he was still seething at the massive oversight that had taken place, as well as the fact that you’d disobeyed his rule.

“Honey, you know what our rule is about wandering off?” Elvis said coolly, devoid of emotion as he was trying to restrain his anger.

You nodded your head feebly, your cheeks turning a softer pink at the slight embarrassment you felt from Elvis talking down to you in front of all of the guys. “To not wander off on my own and always tell you where I’m goin’ to keep me safe.” You recited sadly in a soft voice. 

“Ain’t that right.” Elvis said lowly. “So why, did ya think it would be a bright lil’ idea to disobey me huh kid? Y’need me t’spank that sweet little ass right here and now so that y’learn and start listenin’ t’me? Is that what y’need huh?” Elvis chastised. 

You knew all of the guys were uncomfortable but you also knew that Elvis didn’t give a damn, his eyes trained darkly on you and oh boy, did it make you feel the size of a mouse.

You looked around, embarrassed with your wet lashes fluttering as you sniffled a little more, an overwhelming bundle of feelings, including feeling scared, shy, panicked, embarrassed and relieved all swelling in your little tummy.

“Well honey? Y’gon use that mouth little one or do I gotta pull you across m’knee?” Elvis said, taking his index finger under your chin and tilting it as he towered over you, so that your watery eyes could meet his.

“I just wanted to get you a cupcake…” You choked out as Elvis’ brows furrowed with confusion.

“A cupcake?” Elvis said, his expression softening as it so often would whenever you spoke.

You nodded with a pout, your swollen bottom lip jutted out. 

You weren’t intentionally trying to melt Elvis’ heart with those soft, sad puppy dog eyes, you were just naturally so sweet that Elvis couldn’t resist abandoning his threats. 

“Uh huh!” You whined. “See, I saw these pretty cupcakes, the ones, the ones out there!” You exasperated, turning your body to point in the direction of the lobby. “Them ones with the decorations and the icing and I just,” You and Elvis both realised that you were getting all worked up again.

“Baby,” Elvis hushed, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. 

He could tell just by your odd albeit cute passion for this cupcake that you were telling the truth and you really didn’t want to be in trouble.

You tried the breathing technique that Elvis had taught you for when you so often get a little too overwhelmed as your breaths got ragged. “M’sorry.” You mumbled.

“S’okay baby,”

“I just, you did such a good show, I mean, y’know  I love every show n’you were just so good n’ all, I just, just wanted to get you a present for it. And, see, the cupcakes were just so pretty!” You whimpered, pleading your case. “I know, I know I ain’t s’posed t’be wanderin’ off, I just really wanted t’get you the cupcake. I promise I ain’t gonna go on my own again, not ever!” You promised, your eyes wide, trying to convince Elvis. 

Elvis looked down at your poor state, he knew it had been a scary experience for you, he just needed to look at the way you were picking at your own fingers, actin’ all fidgety. 

When he looked up to observe the expressions on the Mafia’s faces, he knew they all agreed. His sweet thing meant no malice and she sure as hell had been spooked enough to never want to go anywhere without someone with her — and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all, Elvis thought.

“M’real sorry.” You said softly, calmer now that you’d finally managed to get your words out, even if they weren’t exactly coherent.

Elvis smirked as he saw a cupcake box on the side that you’d clearly put down before you’d run into his big arms only moments before. 

“That the ‘oh so special’ cupcake huh little one?” Elvis said with a smile, pointing his index finger to guide your vision.

You simply nodded, you didn’t really have all that much energy left, you were so overstimulated, you poor thing.

“Jer, hand me that box will ya?” Elvis hollered, with Jerry moving swiftly to grab the box and place it in your hands, the odd sniffle coming from you, observing it all. “Want me t’take a look, dolly?” Elvis asked you, his tone now noticeably gentler than it had been.

“Yup.” Is all you managed to muster as Elvis took your little hand in his big one and guided you to the couch, letting you nestle into his side.

You watched with glassy eyes the man you adored with all your heart open the box, showing a pretty little cupcake, even if it was the tiniest bit battered from all the chaos. 

“Oh baby, how did y’know this one would be my favourite huh? How’d you get so clever?” Elvis cooed, realising his job was now to make you feel better.

“Really?” You squeaked, pushing yourself up from his chest to observe his expression as you bit your finger. 

Elvis grabbed your hand to gently pull it away from your mouth, he never approved of you biting your nails, it would make you sick and that’s the last thing he wanted. 

“That’s right darlin’.” 

“They gave it a name, it’s called ‘The King’.” You said gently before Elvis threw his head back with laughter at having a cupcake named after him. “That’s why I got it!” 

Your whole body began to untense at his laughter and you looked around to see all of his entourage too, laughing at what you’d said, making you feel better.

“Oh baby, whatever am I gon’ do with you hey?” Elvis chuckled, pulling you in to lovingly pepper your face with kisses, eliciting sweet giggles from you.

Despite it being a rhetorical question, Elvis knew exactly what he was going to do with you.

He would never again let you get into such a vulnerable and volatile situation again. He was going to make sure you were always looked after  and always kept by his side. 

Constantly. 

[queenie-the-court-jester]

Morning, Queenie. I saw you rebloged the thing about a Cowboy's hat and I can't stop thinking about how big daddy might do that..teehee

Love,

🐁 anon

🐂How did you end up like this. Big daddy's hat nearly falling off your head as you cling to the hay bale you're getting fucked on for dear life, trying to stay quiet.

🐂 You were making conversation with him during one of the farm owners annual spring festivals. You teased him about his hat, trying to knock it off and squaring up. But he mistook it as something completely different.

🐂He plopped his hat on you, and you being the none the wiser, happily ran around with it. After a while he asked you if you liked wearing his hat, and you said yes. He asked you again if you'd like to see another hat, but it was much bigger. You hesitantly nodded

🐂Next thing you knew, you were picked up like a sack of potatoes and taken into one of the more isolated barns. He gently took off your overalls and coerced you onto a hay bale. You tried wriggling away but a firm slap against your ass made you stop

🐂Wasting no time in ripping off your undies and prepping you open (he didn't wear any clothes, mainly because he was stubborn and so hairy.) You let out a gasp, feeling his wet tongue wiggle into your tight hole and working his way in. You were so thankful you shaved that morning.

🐂He didn't let you leave that barn until your legs were turned to jelly and his body covered in your fluids. Mrs.bené gave you a knowing smile as you made your way back to the party. You're never going to live this down.

[yourgothdolly]

Make me Shout🖤

[possessme13]

Send me your creepy obsessive anonymous asks. Make me feel something.

[basement-nursery]

♡Welcome♡

Hi, I’m Baby! I’m 23 and I started this blog to write drabbles and stories and thoughts I have. I'm in a wide variety of fandoms and have a wide variety of interests. This blog is more for my NSFW writing.

Stuff I like to write:

• Yandere/Stalker/obsessions

• Dark romance

• DD/lg (and variants)

• big brother/little sister (and variants)

• Ageplay

• Breeding

• Forced infantilization

• Dumbification

• Corruption

• Monsters

• Size kink

• Forced Dependancy

• and more :)

What I write:

• OC x readers

• OCs

• Reader inserts

• Smut

• Drabbles

• Headcannons

• Imagines

My requests are always open feel free to request a scenario or drabble.

[takincareofbusiness]

1947 - Elvis enters seventh grade at Milam Junior High School

the family is living at 1010 Green Street in Tupelo, a house designated for whites only in a respectable ‘colored’ neighbourhood.

He was skinny and unremarkable--except that he sang too much.

Some students who enroll in school midyear create a sensation. They're the topic of hasty hallway exchanges between locker neighbors. They're furtively eyed in the cafeteria. At night they're evaluated in detail over the telephone.

But the shyish, skinny kid who entered Mrs. Camp's sixth grade class at Milam Junior High School in 1947 made no grand entrance. For one thing, he didn't enjoy the mystique of a distant former residence. He had transferred from a school just a few miles away in the east part of town

They would also live to berate themselves for lacking the foresight to tape record his vocalizing. Far from it, they grew downright weary of the weekly performances. But then how could a bunch of 11-year-olds be expected to divine in the youngster's wooden renditions of a schmaltzy ballad and a honky-tonk tune the future king of rock n roll?

'Every Friday in activity period he sang Old Shep and Frankie and Johnny', says Evelyn Helms, a member of Mrs. Camp's class and the mother of UTC professor Marilyn Helms.'He sang all the blessed time and drove us all crazy. We'd say, 'Oh, no, Elvis is gonna sing again'. If we'd only known'. Just 10 years later, Elvis Presley reserved the choice section at the foot of the Mississippi-Alabama Fairgrounds stage for his Milam classmates.

From the adoring faces and outstretched arms at his feet in a local newspaper photograph, it appears the poor boy turned idol was again driving his classmates crazy ... but nobody wanted him to stop singing any more.

[wanderingelvis]

hi!! so my birthday is tomorrow or the 27th of february and i was wondering if you could do an Elvis imagine and the Memphis Mafia throwing her a surprise birthday party? of course no rush or pressure i hope you have a wonder day ! - 🦢

headcanons for a birthday at graceland with elvis and the mafia 🎂🥂 (kinda possessive elvis!) 🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻

birthday's are special at graceland.

and yours, is no exception.

see, elvis spoils you every day, he showers you with affection and gifts that it's often overwhelming but you love feeling loved and you love soaking in the feeling.

but today, on your birthday, well, that's when elvis' generosity goes into overdrive.

he's like the captain of a ship, ordering the memphis mafia to do various tasks that will make your birthday extra special.

usually, jerry's scanning crowds making sure no-one is going to attack elvis but today he's blowing up pink balloons to decorate the interior of graceland with.

and of course he doesn't mind, he loves you as much as elvis does.

they all do in fact, jerry, sonny, red, charlie, lemar, you've got a hold on all of their hearts.

it's how sweet you are, even when they've had an intense and rough day, you'll be the sunshine that they crave.

like when jerry got in a scuffle with some guys trying to get too close to elvis and he cut his knuckles pretty damn bad, you sat by his feet, tending to the wound with a warm damp rag and clean bandages, trying to tell him jokes that maybe weren't all that funny, but when you said them, well then jerry had to laugh.

you're like a tonic.

and god, you were intoxicating.

so when it's your birthday, the entire memphis mafia ensure they're pulling out all the stops.

when elvis wakes you up, you're an adorable sight to see, your hair is slightly strewn and you blink several times before the realisation hits that it's your birthday, and suddenly, it's like you're a bush-baby, and the excitement begins to build.

"happy birthday, kid." elvis says, kissing your forehead as you gaze up at him from your shared bed, the kiss eliciting a soft giggle from you that practically melts elvis' heart.

even though you're still a little sleepy, elvis leads you out of the bedroom, your small hand in his larger, more calloused one.

and you practically jump out of your skin when a chorus of "surprise!" and "happy birthday!" roars around the living room, all of the men of the mafia, watching as elvis leads you to them.

of course, it's then that the stage fright hits, and your nerves bundle up inside you, the attention on you causing you to turn and bury your face into elvis' chest.

as if he's your comfort blanket.

but this only elicits another chorus of sound, but this time laughter, and 'aww's' from the men, cooing at just how sweet you are.

"think someone's got a lil' bit shy!" elvis chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, rubbing soothing circles into your back before leaning down his head to check on you.

"y'okay bunny? it's just the guys, they wanna celebrate y'big day with you baby, see," elvis coos at you, coaxing you into peeking at everyone as he points to the pink balloons over the archways. "jer got up extra early this mornin' to blow them balloons for you baby." elvis tells you and you start blushing, that feeling of feeling loved swelling inside of you.

it's already too much for a little thing like you to handle, and you've only been awake for 20 minutes.

once the stage fright is shaken off, elvis keeps a hold of your hand, leading you through the dining room and the living room, letting you see all of the pretty decorations that he and the memphis mafia have done for you, from balloons, to ribbons, to birthday breakfast pancakes.

and being the good girl you are, you give every one of the big, old men a cuddle, thanking them for making your birthday so special.

and even though elvis knows your cuddles are harmless, he never lets you out of his sight.

he trusts you, of course he does, and he trusts his men, of course he does, but there's just something so irresistible about you.

he knows his men are loyal but you're so heavenly that he knows you're worth risking everything for.

so he always keeps an eye on you.

because no-one else will ever have you, only him.

so he knows he needs to keep you happy.

and of course, that means presents, and extra special ones as it's your birthday.

and what could be more special than your own little puppy?

when elvis gives you the puppy, you can't help the tears that pool in your big, wide eyes.

"really? for me?" you ask with a slight tremble, you're not really ready to believe that the puppy is all yours.

"all yours baby." elvis smirks, he's proud of himself for the gift.

so there you are, with elvis' kitten with her own little puppy.

elvis and the mafia have invited everyone round for a party to celebrate you and by the time the evening rolls around, it's a full house.

the smell of champagne and cigars fill the rooms as does the sound of laughter and chatter.

and of course, you remember your manners, making sure to say hello to everyone and thank them for coming.

even if you have to go on your tippy-toes to whisper in elvis' ear because you need his help - you can't remember that guests name.

as the party continues and elvis is showcasing his new gun collection to sonny and charlie, the two men puffing on cigars, you're sat on the fluffy white carpet, by elvis' feet, your sole attention focused on your new puppy, who you're affectionately playing with.

elvis' talk of guns being interrupted with your sweet giggles at your puppy.

but it's not long before the staff come round with more glasses of champagne for everyone and you can't help yourself, you just want to have a little bit more.

only a little.

so you tap on elvis' trouser leg, catching his attention as he leans down to where you are on the floor beside him.

"please may i have a glass of champagne?" you ask softly and you know the look that he gives you all too well.

"just one more." elvis tells you with that coy look on his face. "can't have my baby being sick on her birthday now, can i?" elvis chuckles and you reciprocate, taking the glass that the staff hands you after elvis nods at them to confirm it's okay to give you one.

you love how elvis looks after you and knows what's best for you.

but the excitement of your birthday is quick to take it's toll, and it's not long until your head is firmly led on elvis' lap with your eyes closed.

elvis' lap is a good enough substitute for your bed, you think.

but obviously, elvis disagrees, and after about fifteen minutes of stroking your hair as you rest your head in his lap and lay on the couch by him, he decides it's time for your bedtime.

"c'mon little one, time to get you to your bed." elvis coos, waking you up ever so that you can say your goodnights and go with elvis to your bedroom.

and it's not before elvis instructs you to say goodnight and thank you to all of the memphis mafia that are sat around you in the living room.

"give the guys a kiss goodnight baby, say thank you fr' makin' y'day so special." elvis chides, patting your butt so prompt you to say your goodnights.

see, elvis is a possessive man, and he knows that his men adore you, and after a few drinks, he can't help but enjoy watching as you innocently go around, placing a kiss on each of the mafia's cheeks, not thinking anything of it, whilst the men won't stop thinking about for the next month, wishing they were as lucky as elvis to have you.

because there's nothing elvis loves more than having something that everyone else wants but can't have.

and for him, that's you.

because now, he gets to take you upstairs, undress you, kiss you up and down your body, taste you, fuck you.

and the mafia will still be thinking about that kiss on the cheek.

but all you feel is loved, and you love feeling loved.

and elvis loves you better than anyone.

and that's why birthday's at graceland are so special.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

hiii!! still getting used to messaging bloggers, so i apologize if i seem rude 😭😭 im a lil shy…

just wanted to say i LOVE your writing and each of your yanderes! im literally obsessed each time you post and love each one of your OCs. 🥺🥺🫶 the amount of depth of details you put into them blows me away!! \(^ヮ^)/ you are one of my absolute fav blogs and for once a blogger that doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable to contact ❤️❤️

i hope you don’t mind me asking for more content of the farm fics!! i would love to see more big daddy and mrs béne, or the koi quintuplets! maybe how they would be if reader fell in love with them or confessed to them? feel free to ignore or take your time; personal matters come first!! ♡

can i be 🍧 anon?

Even sweeter than honey

a/n: awww shucks.. you got me blushing up a storm 🍧😊 also I'm guessing you already know how horny I make my ocs, so this'll be no excuse 😭🌺

Tw: none I think, just pure fluff and horny idiots

tancho: he would want to belly flop with joy! When you finally say yes to his insistent need to mate with you, he'll nearly faint from all the blood pumping into his nerves. Expect lots of nosebleeds during the consummation

kiko: she's the more quiet one out of the five, giving you a happy smile and leading you a bit far away from the little dock. Where you can both mate peacefully with no surprise guests p.s. it doesn't work

hime: her little fin ears start wiggling with joy as she drags you into water, holding you and making you float along with her as she smothers you with her love. Making Happy clicking sounds, she splashes any of her siblings that get too close

Tsu: they clap their hands in joy and sit themselves up on the little dock next to you. Copying what they saw the other land dwellers do. Holding your hand, kissing your lips, and they may or may not do it Infront of their siblings. Giving the 4 a shit eating grin as they claim you

Koromo: who let this horny bastard out of the underwater cave. As soon as you agree he's dragging you into the water and into their cave. Already tugging off your clothes and ravaging your neck with kisses. Impatient to get you nice and full with his eggs

Mr's bené and big daddy: they're elated! Mr's bené Dragging you to the barn with big daddy close behind. If you're afab, she'll hold you close with your back pressing against her lactating tits, all while big daddy pounds into you. If you're amab, surely you can wait 3 more months until the baby is born? Meanwhile,you can get a head start with big daddy

[yourgothdolly]

So far i have had 6 shots of whisky and 10mg of edibles. should i have more????

[miko-tomi]

Under his Shadow

Chapter one: The Shadow in the Room

I never liked being followed. But it was hard to ignore the feeling that someone was watching me—just a presence, like a shadow that lingered on the edges of my world. It was subtle at first, a flicker of motion in the corner of my eye, a brush of cold air when no one was around. I told myself I was imagining things. But when you’ve spent enough time in the spotlight, you start to notice when the attention shifts, when someone’s gaze lingers too long, when you’re being scrutinized instead of admired.

I’m Tomiko Williamson. I’ve been a model and stylist for years, carving my own path through an industry built on appearances. I’ve never let anyone control me—not my career, not my body, not my life. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let some stranger do it now.

But there was something different about this.

I first noticed it at a charity gala—one of those fancy, over-the-top events where people pretend to care about the world’s problems while flashing diamonds. I was wearing a red dress, the one I’d picked out specifically to stand out—tight, seductive, with a low back that drew every eye. I knew I looked good, but there was one pair of eyes that made me feel... uneasy.

I didn’t see his face at first. Just a flash of dark hair, a black suit, tall enough to loom over the crowd. But even in a room full of important people, it was hard to ignore the way he commanded space. He moved through the room with quiet authority, every person instinctively parting for him as though they knew to stay out of his way. And then, finally, I saw his face.

Yuukito Nakamura. The name was as familiar as the cold chill that spread through the pit of my stomach. The leader of the Nakamura Yakuza clan. I’d heard rumors, whispers, but I never thought I’d actually be in the same room as him.

It was impossible not to notice him. His gaze found mine almost immediately. A soft, calculating look that seemed to take in every detail. It wasn’t just interest—it was something deeper. Something more dangerous. He didn’t smile. Didn’t need to. His presence alone made me feel like I was being measured, evaluated, as though he could see every flaw and every strength in me without saying a word.

I should’ve looked away. I should’ve turned my back, walked away, pretended I didn’t notice him at all. But something in his gaze... it held me. It held me in place, frozen, like I was some kind of prey, and he was already deciding how he would catch me.

I hated the feeling. Hated the way my heart skipped a beat in defiance of everything I believed about myself. I was no one’s toy, no one’s plaything. I’d fought too hard for too long to be anything less than my own person.

But still, my eyes lingered.

And that was my mistake.

By the end of the night, he was standing in front of me. Tall, impossibly handsome, with an aura of danger so thick that the air around him seemed to vibrate. The slight tilt of his head told me he wasn’t asking for permission.

“You’re a hard person to ignore,” his voice was low, with an accent that only made the words feel more dangerous.

I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the way I looked or the way I carried myself. Either way, I didn’t like the way he made me feel like I was already losing this silent battle we’d started.

“Not interested,” I said, taking a step back. I was good at this—good at making people understand that I didn’t play by their rules.

His lips quirked, like I’d said something amusing. “Is that so?”

I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. But my heart... it was beating faster than I wanted it to. And I hated that he noticed.

“You’ll change your mind,” he said, before turning to leave, his every movement deliberate, smooth, like a predator making its escape.

I didn’t think about him again that night. I couldn’t afford to. Not when I had so much to prove, so much to hold on to.

But the feeling didn’t go away. The one that told me I wasn’t being watched, but stalked.

I didn’t know it then, but it was just the beginning.

 

 

The next few days passed by in a blur of photo shoots, client meetings, and press events. I kept my head down, tried to forget the way Yuukito Nakamura’s eyes had burned into me at the gala. It wasn’t the first time I’d had a man’s attention—hell, I was used to being looked at, admired, sometimes even envied. But this was different. Yuukito wasn’t just looking at me; he was studying me. Analyzing me, like I was some kind of puzzle he was determined to solve. And that was a thought I couldn’t shake.

But I didn’t want to think about him. I couldn’t afford to. I had my own battles to fight, and they weren’t going to win themselves. I’d worked hard to get where I was, to break through the barriers that kept women like me from reaching the top. I was independent, successful, and nobody controlled me—not even men like Yuukito Nakamura.

Yet, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop feeling that pull, that unseen force tugging at me from the shadows.

It started small. A message left on my social media account. No words—just a picture. A picture of me from that night at the gala, taken from the farthest corner of the room, where I’d first caught his gaze. I could barely make out his presence in the background, but it was unmistakable. It was as if he’d been waiting for me to notice.

And then the flowers arrived.

A bouquet of blood-red roses, a dozen perfect blooms, with a simple card that read: “A taste of beauty, like the one I saw tonight.” No name. No signature. Just the words. The message was clear, and it made my stomach turn.

My assistant, Nina, seemed to think it was sweet. “It’s romantic, don’t you think?” she said, as she arranged them in a vase.

“Romantic?” I snapped, my pulse quickening. “This isn’t romantic, Nina. It’s creepy.”

Nina raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe, but you have to admit, he’s got taste. You wouldn’t get flowers like that from just anyone.”

I glared at the flowers, my mind racing. Yuukito Nakamura. I should’ve known. His presence wasn’t just a passing curiosity. He wasn’t the kind of man who would fade into the background. He had his sights set on me—and now he was making sure I knew it.

But what did he want?

I didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

For the next few days, I kept my distance. I stayed in the studio, buried myself in work, and did everything I could to avoid being in public. I didn’t want to deal with the tension he’d created. But despite my best efforts to ignore it, I could feel the weight of his presence lurking in every corner. His gaze, like a constant pull, always just out of reach.

It wasn’t until I received the third gift that I knew I couldn’t ignore him anymore.

This time, it was a simple package, wrapped in black paper with a silver ribbon. No return address. No name. Just a single word written in elegant script on the card: “Soon.”

I stood there for a long moment, staring at it. My heart pounded in my chest, my fingers trembling as I tore the paper away. Inside was a small, perfectly crafted silver locket. I opened it, and inside was a photograph of me—one I didn’t recognize. It was a candid shot, taken at the gala, when I had no idea I was being watched. My heart skipped in my chest as I saw how close the camera must have been to me to capture that moment.

I snapped the locket shut, a chill running through me.

This wasn’t just a game to him.

I couldn’t ignore the feeling that something darker was brewing, that Yuukito wasn’t just watching me—he was weaving himself into the very fabric of my life. He was drawing me in, slowly, methodically, like a spider spinning its web.

And the worst part? I couldn’t deny that a part of me was... intrigued.

My phone buzzed on the table, pulling me out of my thoughts. The screen lit up with a text message, one I almost didn’t want to open.

It was from an unknown number.

“I hope you’re enjoying the gifts. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

I gritted my teeth, my jaw clenched so tight I could feel the strain in my neck. This wasn’t how I worked. I wasn’t anyone’s prize to be won. I wasn’t going to let some man, no matter how powerful, control my life.

But the truth was, I didn’t know how to stop him.

And a part of me wondered if I even wanted to.

Hello! This is my first time posting on tumblr and this is my original story. I also have other handles on AO3: TomikoK and on Wattpad: TomikoThorne that’s where you’ll be able to find Under his Shadow as well.

[takincareofbusiness]

From Me'n Elvis by Charlie Hodge,

"Elvis never liked to talk too seriously during a meal if it might lead to an argument. One night in Hollywood, Elvis and I got into a little spat at supper. He got up and walked out. When he came back to finish eating, he said, "Charlie, let's don't ever argue like that again when we're eating. I just went back there and lost what I ate." When Elvis got a little bored with making Clambake. I walked out on the set one morning. It was the original Phantom of the Opera movie set. A bucket of water hit me from way up on one of the high catwalks. I looked up and another bucket hit me. My shirt was soaked. I took it off and neatly placed it in front of a heater to dry out. Then I went to the wardrobe department and got a dry shirt to put on. Every 20 minutes or so, I'd go back and feel my shirt to see if it was getting dry. It felt as wet as ever. I couldn't understand it. At the end of the day, I checked it again. Still soaking wet! I walked away from it, then sneaked back and peered around the corner. There was Elvis, sraying it with a fire extinguisher. He had been doing that all day long. As soon as I felt it, he'd come back and spray it again. Then Elvis came out of his dressing room to do a scene, Richard Davis, his valet, hit him from the same catwalk with a ballon filled with water. Elvis looked up and said quietly, without anger, "I'll get you for that." Elvis went back into his dressing room and came back out a few minutes later in a dry costume and did his scene. Then he found a heavy fire hose, and blasted Richard off the catwalk. The movie director, Arthur Nadel, had been hit by firecrackers so much that he started coming to the set wearing an old Nazi helmet. In one scene, Elvis goes to answer the phone, he says, "Hello." Just Then Nadel lit a huge round firecracker and rolled it across the set floor at him. He dropped the phone and yelled, "Oh he#$, and fled. In another scene Bill Bixby was acting in front of the camera and Elvis simply walked up to him and pushed a cream pie in his face. Pies started flying everywhere. Everybody came in for our practical jokes, from the director on down to the coffee man. Movie crews loved to work with Elvis and they asked to. Everyday was different from the last one and you never knew what to expect when you got up in the morning. With Elvis, life was great."