I apologies for my absence...it will happen again. Here's an Elvis fanfic... it's probably not at all what you guys want but it is the only thing I've written in the last 5 months.
Summary: A frustrated Alpha Elvis needs his omega desperately and she is eager to please.
Pairing: Alpha! Big Daddy Elvis x Omega!Reader
Warnings: Omegaverse, humiliation, talk of BJ's but no smut.
Word Count: 1,5k+ unedited
Dividers by:@mmadeinheavenn and @crylynnluv
Everyone is on edge. The room has a thick cloud of annoyance that is oozing off one person. With a mixture of anxiety pouring in, since everyone is cowering from the scowling alpha. “Fucking hell, why can’t anyone get it right today?” No one answers him as he looks are accusatory at the crew.
No one is going to dare challenge him. Such a presence doesn’t really exist elsewhere. There hasn’t been an alpha with such a strong scent, such a strong aura, so much charisma. So when he’s pissed, everyone can smell it in the air and no one is going to even try to soothe him. Except of course one person.
“Where is she?” Elvis turns to his bodyguards. His nostrils flared and his jaw locked. His shoulder’s tense when the response he gets is far from what he wants. “We don’t know.” Elvis rakes his hands through his thick black hair. “Red...” Before Elvis can even finish his sentence the man has already run off in search of the alpha’s omega.
His head is pounding with a massive headache. His whole body is oozing with frustration. Their sleeping schedules are entirely different. He is able to stay up late, and sleep hours on end until he is needed. While she does her very best to stay up along with him, he lets her sleep late. But now he’s regretting it. His whole body is itching for her, he hasn’t been able to taste her sweetness in what feels like forever, even if it has been just a few hours.
Elvis can smell her before he sees her and instantly feel the tension leave his shoulders. “There she is...there’s my girl...” he mutters, staying in his spot with a hand on his hip. The other reaching out to beckon her closer. And when his sweet girl is standing in front of him, his large hand cups her round cheeks.
Her hair is messy, her eyes are puffy, she has her teddy in her arms, clutching it close. Her night dress is all twisted, hugging her curves. Clearly Red had just dragged her out of bed. “I’m sorry I woke you, my sweet girl, I’m sorry.” His large hands tuck some of her locks behind her ear, trying to wake her up just a little bit more.
Blue eyes that shine so gorgeously down at her, worked hands that hold her with such a gentle touch. Black hair that beautifully falls on his forehead, just barely over his eyes. That lemony smell mixed with the polish from his shoes and his hair, it’s amazingly delightful. His scent on top of it too slowly begins to fade from anger to soft contentment.
“On your knees, baby.” It’s almost instantly when her knees buckle and make contact with the floor. When she knows just how happy she can make his with this simple action. “There you go, sweet girl. I know that’s where you want to be, honey, I know.” He coos when she presses her face into his crotch. Her soft cheek rubbing up and down against the inside of his thighs, right against his scent glands. Her teddy still clutched to her chest.
She seems completely and utterly content. Like where she is, is heaven on earth. As if the other people standing there, watching them, just completely don’t exist. “Such an obedient omega. My perfect girl. I’ve missed you so much, baby.” Elvis’s thumb makes it way from her chin to her lips. The thick finger prying her mouth open. Her tongue almost instantly swirling around the tip of his finger. Letting Elvis’ imagination swirl around.
He wants to tease her. To see her squirm for him. See how eager she is to please him, even in front of all these people. His voice is rough and smooth at the same time. That rich southern accent that he has, the beautiful voice he’s been gifted, now tainted with the rough accusation he spits out. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Big eyes look up at him, wide and now worried, smelling the waves of irritation coming from him all over. “I had- I was-” then his hand is cupping her chin. Squeezing her cheeks together, stopping her from being able to talk. “Isn’t my rule that you need permission to leave my side?” With what mobility she has, the girl nods. His tongue grazes over his sharp canines.
He hums, “So tell me why my babygirl wasn’t by my side when I needed her?” Again she isn’t able to speak. Just struggling to open her mouth against his strong hands. He lets out a small chuckle. “How are we going to fix this, omega?” Instead of answering, his omega just opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue. This does make the King of Rock grin.
“Fuck, just look at you, such a good little omega, aren’t you?” His shoulders roll back as he looks up and around at the band carefully watching them. “Look at that, everyone. Are any of your omegas this well trained?” They know not answering would be the wrong move and also not answering correctly could send the powerful alpha into an angry spiral. So they all just sort of shake their heads no.
As much as he wants to use that sweet mouth of hers right here, right now, he’d rather not any of these other alphas see what is his. “No...no that’s alright baby... I’m just teasin’ yah. I know you were sleeping. No need to punish such a good little girl.” Her cheeks go bright red as she looks away from the band watching her.
“No, no, I just want my sweet omega close. Here, babgygirl...” he takes her by the shoulders, helping her up. “That’s right,” he guides her to sit on the chair he was sitting on earlier. “But Alpha-” he silences her protest with a deep kiss. His tongue pressing against hers, rough and smooth at the same time.
“No buts, babydoll. Be a good girl and stay right there. I need my girl here to be able to focus.” He kisses her forehead and turns back to his band. “Right, where were we?”
Hips that go from left to right. A waist so small but a belly thick. Showing the ages of him, everything that he’s been through. But the comfortable life that he’s built for himself. It shows how strong he is, how manly he is. How much he can eat what his omega makes him without a single complaint. She loves spending her night sleeping on his tummy, letting her canines sink in until it leaves an imprint.
That thick black hair of his that tussles when he’s thoroughly enjoying himself. Whether that is dancing on the stage or in bed when he’s ravaging her. It falls over his eyes, covering his forehead. And his side burns makes it look as if he’s turning into a wolf. Powerful and strong. There is something so manly of a hairy man.
Speaking of hairy, the way that his front few buttons hang open to show his trail of chest hair following down to his waist. As his omega you know that line goes down all the way. Into a thick bush that tickles your nose when your mouth is wrapped around him. That makes his scent linger and overwhelm you.
Or maybe it’s the sweat that drips down his forehead. The same sweat that soaks your chest and neck when he’s so deep inside you that you can feel your brains being scrambled. His sweat drip drips from his cheeks down to his chest, lower and lower. The smell makes your whole body light up, hot to the touch.
“Stop squirming.” His voice rings through her ears, when did he come up right behind her? “I wasn’t-” His hands are on her, on the bare spot under her neck that her nighty doesn’t cover. “Yes you were, I can smell your slick from over there.” His knuckles ever so carefully graze from her collarbone down to her fingertips. “I bet they can too...”
Her cheeks go bright red at just the thought. “What’s got you so worked up, baby?” Then his nose is pressed against the crook of her neck, right where those very sensitive scent glands are. The spot that makes every hair in her body stand upright. She can’t answer, only blush. “Was it maybe, possibly, that you wanted me to put that pretty mouth to good use?” He whispers right in her ear.
This only makes her squirm more, and that makes Elvis laugh. “What’s wrong? Use your words, sweet girl~” She huffs and looks away. “No, no, that simply won’t do... I guess there’s nothing you want then...” Again another huff escapes his omega. “N-no, wait-” his hands continue teasing her, light traces and touches all over.
“Yes, baby?” His grin is wide, he absolutely loves when she gets like this. “I-I need you, Alpha...please...” How could he ever possibly on earth deny his sweet girl anything? Especially when she asks so nicely. “Come on, I think we’ve practiced enough. Don’t you agree?”
I fear...people are going to be a bit upset with me for starting a new story and not updating any of my other ones... But I have to go where the old man obsession takes me! And I fear this time it's bad...those who follow my second blog know...
So, here is my vision. You've heard of Big Daddy Elvis (BDE). And you've heard of vampire!Elvis. So please all imagine for me, Alpha!Big Daddy Elvis.... I fear the brainrot has me...
Summary: After an exhausting night, overwhelmed by the crowd and meds, Elvis stumbles onto the wrong floor. Where he finds an omega, innocent, sweet like over-ripe fruit, ready to be plucked.
Pairing: Alpha!Big Daddy Elvis x Omega!Innocent!reader
Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Omegaverse, grooming (kind of), reader just barely 18, talk of: heats, ruts, scent glands, rutting, scenting, fated mates. Over-protective, obsessive. Innocent reader. Toxic/abusive father, gambling addiction. Alcohol, drugs. Talk of divorce, mentioning Priscilla. Tell me if I missed any.
Word count: 4,4k+ unedited
Dividers by:@mmadeinheavenn and @crylynnluv
Everything is spinning like one of those damn globes on a stand. The music, it all just sort of becomes one big blur of a ringing sort of noise. The pheromones of a million horny teenage omega is just the thing to send an alpha like him into overdrive. The sweat drips in his eyes and as the people cheer his name but, he can only curse the name of one.
That damned so-called Doctor Nick got the dose wrong again or something. Because this feels like a migraine had a love child with a hungover and birthed the damned throbbing sensation in his head.
Doctor Nick was supposed to suppress his senses and now it only feels heightened by a million. What only makes it worse is the people begging for his attention after the show. Clinging to him more than the sweat clings to his hairy stomach.
"Sonny, God damn it, would yah leave me alone. All of yah!" His temper flares as a thick Southern rumble comes from him. His entourage all jump back, realising that the charming smile he gave on stage was as fake as it could come today.
He has no control over his alpha voice and everyone around him preens, baring their neck in submission. Not that he didn't love when people begged for his attention, except only when it didn't feel like someone was dead set on killing him.
His feet drag across the carpet floor and in his messy haze he chooses 3 instead of 30. The white LED lights match the colour of the rows and rows of doors. And right now, he couldn't give a damn if he was on some random floor he didn't entirely recognise. Instead, he just sort of slumps down against the wall. His stage outfit feels entirely too tight, and he claws around his bulge hoping for some sort of relief.
His head hangs in between his knees as chest heaves. Like his heart is going to explode. How long he sits there, he has no clue. But only when his hearing comes back it's sharply interrupted with a loud frustrated yell. And then the harsh slamming of the door. He doesn't bother to raise is head as his voice rumbles out.
"Would you stop it with that damn hollering!" But it's more a command than anything, and his words are met with a sharp inhale. His head very slowly and carefully raises, he expected some sort of fight back for his command. Or at least some sort of faffing about his name.
But his heart is quickly grabbed and twisted right out of his socket when his eyes meet with ones so big and watery.
A scent of an omega, so sickly sweet he hasn't smelled anything like it before. Like an over-ripe mango in the middle of summer. Nice and cold from the fridge, cooling your insides from the summer eat. The type you have to eat like the sloppy animal you are. Your teeth ripping into the soft flesh. The juices cover your mouth and drip-drip-drip down to your sweaty chest. Your hands a vibrant orange colour from the sweet nectar. And even days later when you lick your lips you can taste mango and nothing else.
And suddenly the ringing fades away as he feels guilt stab through him for yelling at something so fragile looking. A girl, but a little thing compared to him, sort of slumps down against the door, same as he had. She pulls her knees up against her chest and then fiddles with the hem of her much too short dress.
"I-I'm sorry sir, I didn't know- I didn't think of- um-" She sort of stutters out an apology. Along with the honey covered fruit smell, she reeks of a beta. All around her like someone pissed on her feet to mark their scent.
But he just can't seem to find himself to care all too much about the weak response. "What's got you all fussy?" The alpha in him instantly wanting to coddle the little omega.
He leans his back against the wall as he rests his hands on his wide spread legs. Almost as if he's making himself bigger for the little girl to either be scared of him, or trust him, he doesn't entirely know yet. His chest puffs out and he licks his sharp teeth. She might reek of another man but he's quick to notice no mating mark.
"My papa, he's being a big... meanie." He almost had to stifle a laugh, that was most definitely not the response he was expecting. This 'papa' must be the one protecting or, or at least trying to, with his gasoline scent. "And why's that, little one?" Elvis asks, fighting off his iconic side smirk as he truly takes her in. As cute as a button, but with the body of a woman and yet dressed in something clearly not age appropriate.
"That's just the thing. I ain't so little no more. I just turned 18, I'm a big girl. He brings me to Vegas. I thought that meant I could do yah know, what grown ups do." Her voice rambles, still playing with the hem of her too short dress. He can see her cute little pink panties showing but she doesn't seem to realise it. Or at least if she does, she doesn't seem to know it's a bad thing. He spreads his legs wider, hoping for some relief.
"And what would that be?" Elvis can see when he just opens his mouth, a light dusting of pink falls on her cheeks before falling away again. "Yah know..." She mumbles, but it's clear that she isn't entirely all too sure. "No I don't, you'll have to tell me." His voice is coated with a condescending tone however it doesn't register with her. Instead she just sort of leans her neck to the side, already submitting to him. Such a weak little thing. No fight either.
Her front two teeth capture her bottom lip before letting it go with a pop. He can see her small little canines and his subconscious mind immediately thinks of how tiny her mark would look on his shoulder.
"Yah know... Talking about grown up stuff and dancing, all in pretty, fancy clothes." Elvis supposed that it could definitely be seen like that to someone like her. He however doesn't really want to break this bubble that she lives in and just nods, showing her to continue.
"But he won't let me. Just tells me that he's got himself into trouble with dangerous men and that I can't go out. What's that gotta do wit' me?" Things seem to slowly fall in place for the famous rock star. A gambling addict, in debt to one of the many mafia that seem to run this place. Trying to keep such a frigid omega safe. But clearly, this little one needs an alpha like him. To mark her, let the whole world know she’s his. "He's right. Vegas ain't all that they make it out to be."
She huffs, clearly not liking this answer and her tongue moves again. "How would you know? You ain't Elvis Presley." Now... now he really can't stop himself from smiling. "How would yah know, little girl?" Again, like before, she gets all wide-eyed when he uses a pet name like that. "My papa tells me Elvis is...is...a delinquent. Whatever that is... And a, uh, sexual deviant. And well, I don't really know what either o' those mean but I know yah ain't either of them."
An earthy deep rumble laugh escapes him. "Aren't yah just something?" He mumbles, shaking his head. Usually he'd be pissed off that someone would go around saying stuff like that about him. But the way she stumbles over the big words that don't register in her mind can only make him laugh. She so needs someone to take care of her. "And why would somethin' like yah want to go out in Vegas? Doin' all these adult thangs?"
She looks down, slightly embarrassed by his laugh. But also entirely unsure about this hot feeling that tickles her stomach when he laughs like that, or talks like that, or looks at her like that. Or this sticky substance that she feels coating her thighs.
"I like dancin'. But Papa don't like the way I dance, he don't like me dancin'. Says I'll end up becoming just like that Elvis fellow if I dance. But, a big girl like me should be able to do what she wants."
She sounds so sure of herself and now Elvis really has to see this dancing she's talking about. "Well, I suppose so. But if a sweet thing like you goes around doin' what she wants in a big girl place likes this, she'd get taken advantage of." Just like he's about to do now. But he just can't resist bringing this little thing out and seeing the look on her face as he corrupts her. Safe her for himself, make her see the way he wants. She’s so easily could be moulded into his.
She tilts her head to the side, like a confused puppy. Damn this damn costume really is too tight now. He stands, trying to adjust himself without her noticing.
"How about this, little girl. If your Papa leaves you all on your own again, you find the nearest elevator, m'kay?" Elvis speaks, a commanding, dominant, alpha tone in his voice as he points to her where to go. He knows the best gambling times are right before and during his shows, there are less people in there then. The Colonel is always gone at these times too...
Like an obedient dog she nods her head, looking up at him. Wide eyes swimming with the sweetness her scent carries. "Then you gon' press the button for the very highest floor. Once you're there, don't get scared when a big lookin' guy asks what yah lookin for. Just tell 'em that Aron is lookin' for his little lamb. Alright? He should show you 'round then. Alright?" She quickly scrambles to her feet.
She nods her head frantically, wiping her sweaty palms on her little dress, since everything suddenly just feels so hot. Elvis is quick to see the way her thighs rub together, a smirk falls on his lips and it takes everything in him not to groan. To not fuck her right here on the hotel floor and mark her as his.
What’s going on? He didn’t even mark Priscilla. He never felt this impossibly crazy, like a real fucking animalistic need to make her his...this just has to be something more.
"Okay Sir. And that's your name then? Aron?" Elvis winces slightly. He doesn't like people calling him that. Sounds like his mama is scolding him all over again. But he also, really, for now, doesn't want her to know who he really is. She’d sigh away, hearing what her father said about him. "It's uh my second name, I don't want you quite knowing my name yet, dollface. I gotta go now though. But you'll be a big girl and do as I ask?"
Her teeth find her bottom lip again as she fights off the whimper that threatens to escape her when he says something like that. Her pink lips become even pinker when her wet tongue grazes it. She leans against the door handle, needing some sort of support to keep herself up, as she nods, showing she'll listen. He gives his iconic smile. "Alright, good girl. See yah then."
The girl gently slides open the door. The smell of alcohol is strong in this little rented hotel room. But she doesn't care. She leans against the door, a big smile forms on her face and she lets out a dreamy sigh.
Her thighs clench together when she thinks about that southern drawl of his again. And she just can't help but wonder if it was fated for her to meet this beautiful big man.
He'll be damned. He didn't think that there was anyone left who didn't know what he looked like. Much less what he sounded like. His voice is just about everywhere these days and if she didn't recognise him at all it means he has discovered a gem he's been searching for. Someone who didn't treat him like the great Elvis Presley, but instead like some man.
And even if he is just some man to her, she looks up at him like he's got some way to grab the sun an the moon down for her. Even if they've only just met. And then, right on time exactly as he had thought he smells her before he hears a faint knock in the door. Shy and gentle, almost afraid the wood of the door might hurt her. He calls for her, his voice is like raw honey. Deep baritone alpha that he is.
He sees her head just barely peak out into the very dimly lit room. He can't help but let a lob sided smirk fall on his face. Just seeing her wide eyes, worried that everything about this might just be wrong. He holds out his arm, resting it on the backrest of the sofa.
"C'mere darlin'." She slowly closes the door and like a little mouse crawling towards a piece of cheese she steps towards him. He's quick to grab onto her tiny little dress, pulling her closer to him until her thigh is pressed against the outside of his leg.
She's already hot, he can feel it. He can't help but wonder when her next heat would be. Or if she's ever even had one, surrounded by her beta father all the time. And even if she had, he knows the sudden exposure to his smell is sure to bring it on soon enough. He gives it give or take a week, if he has to guess.
He's leaning back, his legs wide spread like the man he is. He's already in his stage outfit, just like she saw him last time. Her hair is tangled and he's sure if he were to check, the label of her dress would read "14-15 years." His hands trail up and rest on her hip, just wanting to keep her here. Keep her close. He could do so much for her. Make her so happy.
"I wanna show yah somthin', but yah gotta promise not to be mad, darlin'." Her face contorts and her head tilts to the side like a confused puppy. "Why would I get mad?" He lets out a slight sigh and then readjusts his pants. She's just too damn adorable for her own good. He wants to grab her into his arms and kiss her until she's squealing his name.
But he doesn't. Instead he licks his lips and speaks again. "You'll see, baby, you'll see." She hides her bottom lip in her front two teeth making her look like a little bunny. "Now, you wanna go like this or you want me to find yah somethin' else?" Then she let's go of her bottom lip and pushes it out in a pout.
She looks down, fiddling with the hem. "What's wrong with this?" Again he just sort of sighs, looking at how the dress is full of holes and sits just barely below her round bottom.
"Well, don't get me wrong, sweet thing, I really don't mind this look on yah. And I'll give the dress back to yah. But I gotta take care of yah, since your papa is away. An' I don't want men looking at this body of yers. Your Papa would be very upset." She bites her lip again, tearing away at the plump skin. He just can't help himself but take her chin and pull the lip out from he violent teeth.
Then slowly she nods her head, her head tilts to the side. "You talked to my Papa?" She asks, at least she has some sense of defence. "Oh yeah," Elvis lies, taking her delicate little hands in his. So mini, just like everything else of her. Softly squishing the small pads right below each finger on her palm. Slowly tracing higher on her wrist. His fingertips letting out as much of his scent as he can. That intoxicating sugary smell fills his nostrils.
"He said he wanted me to take care of yah, while he's busy." Her doe eyes follow his fingers, fully entranced. He can’t help but bring her wrist to his lips. Soft, so soft. She doesn't even question when he talked to his father, or what he’s doing, just sort of nods.
"A-alright. Gotta listen to yah." A smile prickles his cheeks when she says that. "Yes, exactly, sweet pea, now you understand." And his grin grows even wider when she preens for him.
Elvis smiles and nods, slowly standing up and walking to his closet. He gives her a once over, hell, he'll have to find some of 'Cilla's old clothes, give it a better scent that Priscilla’s overwhelming Iris smell that still lingers all these years. In any case, that might be all he can find that would fit her. He rummages through and suddenly takes a sharp breath when he finds it. A wide smile across his face as he holds it up for her to see.
Frilly pink dress from when 'Cilla was your age. And the moment this little girl sees it, she gets sparkles in her eyes. She bounces on her feet and he can see her hands are eager to grab at it. "Yah like it, little one?" Too excited to say anything, she just rapidly nods. She’s holding herself back as much as she can.
Elvis hands the dress to her, she's so so careful with it. And he knows his scent is all over it, he's likely rutted into that dress a few times. After he tries to comfort himself after the divorce. Savour all of the flowery smell he’s now all too glad to get rid of. So he just smiles when she raises the dress to her nose, taking soft breaths.
He sees the sweat bead on her forehead and she stutters, not understanding what's happening to her. He frowns, that shouldn’t be happening yet.
He then points to the bathroom, "Go on, put it on." It's almost as if she jumps into the bathroom. A low wolf whistle escapes him when she steps out in the pink frilly dress. She blushes like a sweet little strawberry made just for him to feast on. Rip into with his sharp canines.
"My, my, little thing...I'm gonna have to fight off the other men." He chuckles, his hands slowly finding her arms, his thumbs rubbing up and down. Somehow she becomes even pinker and it takes everything in Elvis not to lock her away right now.
"Now c'mere, let me brush yer hair." This time she doesn't ask questions, just nods and follows as he puts her down on the soft matted floor in front of a bed. He takes his brush and begins slowly brushing.
"I never did catch your name, little one." He mumbels, his hands slowly parting your hair in different sections. Making sure to 'accidently' graze your scent gland. Making sure his leather scent will stay. He loves the way your whole body shivers. And the name you give him too, sweet as the a honeysuckle. But he'll likely still prefer a cute nickname, how else will he get you all fussy? "An' you're an omega, right?"
Elvis is caught completely off guard when she tilts her head to the side. "What's that?" Bless the moon goddess above, Elvis shifts his hips forward. Almost resting his knee on your shoulder, loving the way you take deeper breaths.
He bites down on his lip and looks up at the mirrored ceiling. Trying to keep himself from taking her right now. And the damn suit is too tight again. "Yah don't know...?" She blushes and fiddles with the ruffles of her new dress.
"Papa homeschooled me. I don't know much of much." She says, quite ashamed of this but Elvis can only smirk. "An' where did yah grow up?" Elvis sees the way she tries to remember the name. "Something Mem...mem..." He chuckles, continueing to brush the knots out of her hair. "Memphis?" She nods, but just barely as to not bother his progress.
"Why, baby I'm from Memphis. How come I ain't never seen you b'fore?" Again she blushes, "Papa didn't let me out too often." That's an understatement, seeing how she's wearing children's clothes and doesn't even know what a second gender is. "You're killin' me here, baby." She seems terrified of the thought, "O-oh no, I don't want that-"
He chuckles, placing his large hand on her shoulder. He lets her now brushed out hair fall down. So long, never been cut before. "Don't worry, little omega, I'll teach you." She leans her head back, looking up at him upside down. "Yah will?" She asks, clearly so very hopeful. He nods, caressing her soft round cheeks. "Of course, your Papa asked me too." He lies.
"Now... everyone... I have a very special guest with me today," Elvis has the mic in hand standing in front of his various band members that keep this show going. They all wait in anticipation for his next word. He moves the mic to the side and turns to you. His arm reaches out as he gently guides you in front of him. "C'mere, little one."
You squeek, suddenly being at the attention of quite a few people. They all ooh and aah, looking over eachother at the tiny omega with the intoxicating smell. They can tell, Elvis has already scented as much of you as he could without you noticing. The little girl blushes even more when they all peak at her like some pet.
"Now, this little one tells me she likes dancin'." He says, the mic back up to his lips again. "Let's make some music she can dance to." He suggest to them and they holler and cheer at the thought.
Again he whispers to you. "Don't get all shy in me now. Show me that dancin' you were talkin' 'bout." Elvis speaks, his hand still in your arm. Needing to be touching you somehow at all times. You just nod, taking a gulp already feeling shy. But something in his voice almost forces your body to comply. An overwhelming, demanding need to do whatever he says.
"Alright, Glen, you gon' start us off." Elvis begins scatting into the microphone, letting the piano player follow his notes. "Get the bass up." They follow his command like he controls them.
"That's alright. That's alright. Any way you do~." The moment he begins singing it's like something comes over him. His legs and hips shaking as he feels the music. And as sure as hell, the same seems to happen to you.
"Ah, ah, ah, ah," he repeats into the microphone, feeling the groove. "That's alright Mama, that's alright wit' you, that's alright Mama, any way you do~" He directs his words to the sweet little omega he found. Who is moving her hips like she was born to do so. And he's certain if his Mama were here to see it, she'd be crazy about you.
He can't help but take your hand, spinning you so that your back is against his chest. He grabs your hips and presses it against his. "That's alright, that's alright now mama, any way you do," the way he grabs his southern drawl from the very depth of his stomach makes your gut clench and that stickiness forms around your thighs again. You bite down, really not wanting to ruin your new dress.
"Now mama she done told me, papa told me too, son that gal' you foolin' with ain't no good for you." His hips jerk in movement with yours and he feels just about 20 years younger in that moment.
Your two bodies move like you've planned this whole thing beforehand. His large hand on your waist, gripping you as your hips move together. As if all his years of fighting for his right to dance on stage has paid off in the form of this cute little omega who moves like she'd been made for him.
You feel his pudge rest just above the curve of your ass. Something hard pressing against your back and you chase this sort of giddy feeling forming in the bottom part of your body. Like adrenaline is forming in your stomach. And these butterflies that cause your thighs to press together. His smell, you've never smelt anything like it before. Leather, lemon and sandalwood.
It all comes from this hot and heavy sweat that makes him look so shiny. It bewitches you and makes your vision hazy. Makes you want to press your face in his dripping hairy chest where before you'd cringe at the thought. The urge to lick it up like a dehydrated animal burns under in your belly. You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself. What’s happening? What are these strange thoughts you’re having?
It’s as if he's burning down all your defences, making you feel things you've never felt before. See things you've never seen them before. Chase after things you never thought to chase before. What is this you're feeling? So hot, so so hot. Burning. His scent is burning you up and the only place that feels cool is where he touches you.
Elvis notices it immediately. The way your eyes glaze over when you look at him, your breast perk up as if your body is trying to sell itself. And your sickly sweet fruit scent develops into that of intoxicating alcohol.
A sweet gin that you could so easily drink straight from the bottle. No need for tonic. He doesn’t even like alcohol but he needs to taste more. It makes his head swirl and he grips your waist tighter and bends down.
He presses his nose down into your scent gland. His canines grow, he licks the crook of your neck. No omega or beta or even a weak alpha could notice the change so slightly. But he does, it's like he's gotten the manual to your body and has dedicated his life to studying it. "Come on, baby, give me just a few more hours. Can’t you wait just a bit longer?”
Elvis begs and pleads and you’re entirely sure what for. Or if you can give him what he wants this time...
I don't know if I'm going to write a second part, but if I do, comment to be added to that taglist!
Summary: After an exhausting night, overwhelmed by the crowd and meds, Elvis stumbles onto the wrong floor. Where he finds an omega, innocent, sweet like over-ripe fruit, ready to be plucked.
Pairing: Alpha!Big Daddy Elvis x Omega!Innocent!reader
Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Omegaverse, grooming (kind of), reader just barely 18, talk of: heats, ruts, scent glands, rutting, scenting, fated mates. Over-protective, obsessive. Innocent reader. Toxic/abusive father, gambling addiction. Alcohol, drugs. Talk of divorce, mentioning Priscilla. Smut!! Tell me if I missed any.
“You need to calm down, baby. I need you to calm down sweet thing.” His voice whispers in your ear. You can feel his big hand wrapped around the back of your neck just to hold you upright. Your legs feel weak and everything is spinning. There is a loud ringing noise, so that all you can hear is Elvis whispering to you as his hands keep you from collapsing.
A stutter falls over the girl’s lips when she finally looks up at Elvis. He can feel his control slip when all he can see is these wide doe eyes. Sweat dripping from her forehead down to her cheeks. She blinks, her mouth opening and then swallowing, trying to cool off. “Wh-what’s happenin’ to me?” Her timid scared voice asks and he can only stutter.
“I-I think it’s just a bit too much excitement for a yittle thing like you.” He mutters, but he knows what’s really happening. He can smell what’s coming. He curses himself, he should’ve known. But how could he have? Usually a forced heat by scent takes at least a week. This is something more, it has to be.
Elvis turns to his bodyguards, nodding his head for them to follow him and his lady. They’re all quick to jump to action. Elvis is holding the little omega, practically carrying her since her legs can’t keep up as they make their way to the nearest elevator. Each of the bodyguards have to fight their instincts to not take the delicious smelling omega inside of this tiny elevator.
Everything is sort of just this sweaty, hot, haze. You can’t hear, see or feel anything but Elvis. By you, with you, around you. And the very expensive silk sheets feel like knifes on your skin when he so gently places you down on the bed. All comfort you can find is the leather and lemon scent that surrounds you. And the pillow that somehow finds itself between your legs.
A sound that you didn’t know you could make escapes you. Your hands cling to his clothes, to him. And his touch is so gently when he pries your hands away. “I’ll be right back, doll. I promise.” His voice soothes you all over. And everything feels so heavy like you’re walking through a humid cloud when he leaves.
Only when you feel his touch again does it dissipate again. You hiss when you feel the cold water soak your clothes and then your body. But you can finally breathe again once you start cooling down. Your vision slowly returns and all you see his Elvis’ panicked blue eyes filled with an emotion a naive thing like you doesn’t know the name for.
Sweat plops down from his temples and makes a drip sound as it falls into the tub. His dark black hair clings to his forehead, and his eyebrows and pulled together in worry. You only now notice his whole outfit is wet since his hands are still cradling your body until the icy water. His breathing is quick and shallow and his eyes seem glazed over.
“Are you alright?” Your hand is still boiling hot against his cheek. Elvis has to stifle a laugh. “Am I alright?” He repeats the question, you’re the one suffering right now. You start to feel all hot again when he gives you that smile of his. “I feel hot.” Is all explanation you have for him.
You can see him take a huge breath through his nose and the sigh, his eyes closed. “Am I sick?” She asks him and now he bites his tongue. How does he explain this to her? Without bursting this bubble that he wants to keep her in. “Yeah...somthin’ like that.” Her long hair is wet in the water and creates this halo around her. Even when she tilts her head like a confused puppy.
“Yah remember when I told yah, that I needed to teach you some things?” He starts, licking his lips, trying to think faster than he can talk. She nods her head, still floating in the water. “This...this is one of those things.” Her hand slowly goes back to her side. Fiddling with the dress. “Yeah?” She utters, not sure what else to say.
He can’t help but smile. She’s so eager to hear him. “Well, like I said earlier, you’re something called an Omega. And I’m an Alpha. It’s uh...uh a part of your body that’s different than mine.” For just a split second her eyes fall to his very clear bulge and her brows furrow, trying to put things together.
Elvis chuckles, “Somethin’ like that. But it’s different for every person. Not just man an’ woman.” Her breath hitches when he mentions something like that. Her thighs clench together, but she doesn’t say anything, just nods. “An’ uh, yah see, an Omega has this thing we call a heat. It happens once a month. And an Omega’s body gets all hot, like how you feel now.”
Again, she just nods, listening to every word he says. “And produces a slick...right...here...” He says, his hands slowly spreading her thighs apart. The slick clings to her body since the water is still standing, not strong enough to wash it away. Elvis coats his hand in your slick and then pulls his hand out of the water. His other hand keeping your head above the water.
His fingers spread apart and the slick stretches like raw egg whites. Her cheeks flush pink and her hands come up to hide her face. A low rumble of a chuckle escapes Elvis, seeing just how shy she’s suddenly become. “No need to hide, doll face. It’s natural, nothing to be ashamed of.”
She lowers her hands just enough for him to see her beautiful doe eyes peak out. And to behold the blush that creeps onto her cheeks all the way to her ears. “An’ yah see, when an Omega goes into heat, there ain’t nothing that can help. You’ll have to wait it out.” He lies to her, wanting for her to really need him before he does anything.
The most delectable sound escapes her. The neediest whine accompanied by her thighs closing again. Her body knows that he is lying to her, but her pretty little head doesn’t. Her hand ever grabs onto his forearm. As if wanting to keep him right where he is.
“I’m sorry, little one. I know, I know.” He soothes her, caressing her cheek and wiping the hair from her face. “Now, my little one, we gotta get you out of this tub.” Another whine escapes her. She shakes her head, her eyes clamped shut, now trying to remember the feeling of the icy cold water on her skin.
His hands now each slide under her shoulders and the other around her legs. His old joints groan when he slowly picks her up, bridal style, from the tub. While she is a wee thing, he’s well into his forties and things don’t really work as well as they used to. But he refuses to let that affect his mission of caring for his little omega.
She clings to his body, like how a moss grows on a tree. And again the luxury sheets burn like hot coals. The only part keeping a somewhat normal temperature is where his cold, wet hands meet your body. Your hands clench around his clothes, refusing to let him go.
“I gotta go, baby, I gotta go do my show.” Your small fingers wrap around his when given the chance. A cooling sensation where his lips meet each of your knuckles. “I’m sorry, darlin’. So so very sorry.” He repeats between kisses. His hot breath fans your cheek when he places his pouty lips against your soft skin. Forehead, nose, cheeks and just barely missing your lips.
“Come on, baby, give me just a few more hours. I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. Gently cooing, the alpha in him furious that he’s leaving the needy omega. But he has other duties that he needs to complete before he can truly have her all too himself.
“Make sure she doesn’t go out. And no one, and I mean no one, but me, goes in there. I swear if I find any of you even so much as standing too close to that door when I get back, I will rip every one of you apart with my fucking teeth. Do you understand?” Elvis’ alpha voice makes the other alphas, he’s appointed as your bodyguards, bow their heads and bare their necks. Showing that they get the idea.
Tossing and turning, unexperienced hands not know what to do to force away this burning hot feeling between your thighs. And that slick that that he had been talking about is all over your thighs now. There is a slight bit of relief from his leathery scent all over the sheets. Yet at the same time it makes the heat between your thighs so much worse.
It’s almost as if you can hear his voice all over. Echoing in the halls and walls of the hotel. Your eyes keep clamped shut, the sight of the room being empty without him being just too much to bare. Everything is just all too overwhelming, especially for someone like you who isn’t use to any of this.
And by this meaning the outside world. The rich scent of an Alpha, especially one as prominent as Elvis. The busy lights of Vegas peering through the window and you’re so glad for the dim mood lights in here. And the air conditioner that’s doing it’s very best to cool down the room with your hot body here.
But at the same time you despise it for blowing away his scent. It’s all so confusing to your unknowing mind. Noises that you’ve never made before and your tongue dances in your mouth and finds that your teeth feel almost sharper. And your lips feel sensitive, hell, everything feels sensitive, but your bad habit of biting your lip is brought to an end. Making it so that you can’t stop the noises falling from your mouth.
There can’t possibly be no fix for this. There has to be something. There’s no way other omegas go through this and nobody has made any sort of fix for this. Did people really care that little? Was her father right in keeping her from a world that doesn’t care about her? Would he have let this happen, are you really safe with Elvis?
It’s as if he can hear your thoughts, hear your doubts. Feel the tears sliding down your cheeks as you sob his name begging for relief. Because just when you start to question if you truly belong with him, there he is. Hands cooling your burning skin. Wiping off the tears that are rolling down her cheeks. And her head spins again when there is only him to be found.
“My poor baby. Poor little omega~” Deep voice, soothing your heated insides. “What’s wrong, yittle one?” But all words seem to have gone from her brain. Her body now having full control. This sort of...instinct that she hasn’t exactly felt before overcoming her mind. Her head empty from all thoughts and her body driven by action.
She crawls into his lap, like a pug eager to sit in it’s master’s lap. And like a dog, an animal, in heat she grinds down against huge thigh. Finding the seam of his jumpsuit and pressing her sensitive nerves onto it. Her slick covers Elvis’ iconic suit, making it damp with her warmth. He takes a deep breathe in and there it is again.
Honey straight from the honey comb. The bees still surrounding you, attacking for taking their precious food, but you don’t care. There’s no way anyone wouldn’t take a few bee stings for this delicious honey. Kings fight and place their whole kingdom and knighthood on the line to import something even nearly as delectable as this scent wafting from between her thighs.
“Oh, baby,” even his voice goes up a few octaves. Grasping her hips to keep her still and he’s met with a hiss from her. “Is it all uh yittle too much for yah, huh, darlin’?” He knows full well just how badly she needs him. He could smell it the moment he stepped his foot on this floor. He’s never in his life rushes a show, except today.
Elvis just had to get to her. She’s in an even worse state than he thought she’d be. Crying and sobbing his name. Attacking a pillow with her little cunt. She doesn’t even what she’s doing, her body moving on it’s own accord, fighting for some semblance of relief. But he knows only he can provide what she really needs.
Immense eyes that seem to hit Elvis right in the gut looks up at him. Red and full of these fat tears. Her nose red following over her cheeks and to her ears. Both from the heat coming from her and how much she’s been crying. Her wet lashes clump together and her lips are plump and abused from her sharp canines coming out.
“’S too much, too hot.” She mumbles, her bottom lip quivering. Like a needy pup she lowers herself, her cheeks rub against his neck, his scent gland. Needing more of him and his smell and his touch. Her hips jerking forward, closer to him, she needs to be closer. But what’s closer than sitting in someone’s lap?
Elvis can see the sweat drops going from her forehead, down her temples and onto her cheeks. It’s like he can see her vaporing away. The alpha in him is howling and screaming at him to fill her, mark her, claim her. Adhere to her neediness and fix it. The only way that it can be fixed. But his human mind feels that she isn’t quite ready for it.
That is just barely not needy enough for him. Elvis feels she needs to begging for him. Like a dog, on her knees, begging. He knows that she probably doesn’t even know what to beg for. But that just makes it all the better. He has the key to her ultimate relief and her pretty little head doesn’t even know it...but her body does.
She winces and hisses at him, baring her canines as if the little omega can warn him not to lay her down. He can only chuckle at her. “I’m sorry, yittle one. So sorry.” He mutters against her ear. Kissing away the droplets of sweat. Everything moves so quick for you. One moment you’re soothing yourself in his arms, the next he’s laid you down and is pressing a cold rag against your forehead.
Her thighs clamp together and she squirms, rolling around the sheets. She twists in every position, trying to will her body to stop this onslaught of heat. He huffs, grabbing her hips and holding her still. And again, just for a second, that part where he keeps her in place is the only part that cools.
“Now, darlin’ this usually last about a week. Yah papa said I could take care of yah this week. Do yah mind?” Her head swings and his voice bounces around. That’s the last thing she cares about now. “N-no,” she mutters, even speaking seems to take so much energy from her. Even a simple word like ‘no’ feels impossible to say.
Three hours, she lasted, Elvis sat and watched, rock hard meanwhile, as she wriggled. Fighting her heat. He almost has to chain himself up. Especially when she looks at him with these eyes full of lust, half lidded, speaking his name over and over.
His knees groan as he kneels down next to the bed. Every few minutes he rinses the rag with cold water. Pressing it against your hot body. He swears he can even hear a hiss when he cools you down like that. At this point though, even he is sweating from fighting his alpha instincts. She needs to break soon or else he’ll have to give in-
A loud grunt escapes her.
She flies up, her body shaking as she sobs. Crying as her body shudders. “Nothing’s helping,” she cries out in between sobs. He can see the slick dripping down all the way to her knees. She looks so desperate, so needy. She claws at her body and he just can’t stand it anymore.
“Well...there is something I can do that might help...” Her eyes snap open, she crawls over to the edge of the bed where he kneels. “Please, anything!” She begs, grasping at his upper arms. He has yet to even change out of his stage jumpsuit. Refusing to be away from her even a second. He bites his pillowy lips, thinking it over.
Then, to your utter dismay and hell, even anger due to frustration, he shakes his head. He cups your burning cheek. “You’re not ready for it, yittle one. Yah papa won’t be very happy wit’ me if I do help yah. Since yah really only still such a small yittle girl.” She lets out another loud groan, from deep inside her empty belly.
“Please, I don’ care what my papa says. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. Alpha, please, yah need tah help me.” She sobs and when she uses the word ‘alpha’ Elvis knows she’s ready. Because her pretty little head doesn’t know that is the proper way to address someone of his status...but her body does. Her body craves and is beginning to realize exactly what she needs...
There is this split moment, where Elvis pretends to think about it. The pretty girl’s eyes flutter down to where his pink tongue reaches out and swipes over his soft pink lips. For a few seconds, all you hear is his breathe. You hang onto it. Waiting for the moment where the breathing stops and he speaks.
“Ah-Alright, baby, it’s alright.” He groans as he stands up. His old knees cracking as he does stand up. His big arm envelops her shoulder, slowly pushing her down onto the pillows. “Just lie down now, I’ll help yah, baby, I’ll help yah.” He repeats, soothing her with his touch and his voice and his smell. He scents her with every touch. With the rub of his wrists against her skin.
The prettiest noises fall from his lips when his hands rub up and down her waist. “Now, yah gotta promise me, baby, that yah won’t run off. The way this is fixed is a little...strange. Yah might get scared, baby, but yah don’t need tah. Remember, I’m jus’ tryin’ tah help yah. Alright, darlin’?” He coaches her, knowing her little mind is going to struggle with this part.
“I don’ care. I don’ care. Please, Alpha, please, yah need tah fix this.” He has to hold back his own grin. “Okay, okay, darlin’. I see. I see.” He whispers, his much bigger hands slowly lift you up by your back. Slipping down the zipper. “Let’s get rid of this stuffy dress, huh? Makin’ yah feel much too hot, huh?” His big hands, covered in rings, then slip the dress off.
She lets out a whine, her hands covering up her perfect pink nipples. The animalistic side of him lets out a growl. “No, yittle one, don’t hide, then it won’t work, baby.” A slight huff escapes her, because right now she’s so desperate to relive this hot, hot feeling. Now she’s only in her little pink panties.
They’re soaking, completely see through at this point. So easy to slide off too. Pink, puffy folds, covered and utterly wet with slick. He’s been making her wait so long that he doubts there’s much preparation needed. But he just can’t help himself when he teases her. A thick digit sliding against her sensitive nub. A wild grin covers his face when her back arches and she whimpers. “See, doesn’t that already feel better?” She can’t answer, only hitch her breath.
He chuckles every so slightly. “Poor omega, can’t even speak.” He coos, he’s enjoying this far too much. And he so easily slides a digit into her. Her back arches and a loud gasp escapes her. Her body so easily grabs onto him. Pulling him deeper in and he groans just imagining how you’ll feel around him.
Elvis shoves off his jumpsuit. His bulging member slaps against his fat stomach. He pulls you closer by the leg. Her hair dragging behind her on the bed. “Just look at you. So eager, so ready for me already.” He grins, lifting her pelvis up by the hips, aligning himself with her.
He gently caresses her face. “This is gon’ hurt now, but I promise you’ll feel much better soon enough, darlin’.” Her tiny hands grip onto his forearms. Preparing herself for whatever it is that may hurt. And she can already feel him poking at her entrance. Her cheeks are bright, from the heat, crying and now shame.
Her father warned her of this so many times. Not to let a man anywhere near her special place, as he called it. But she can’t handle the heat anymore. The throbbing pain like lava being poured over her. The constant haze where she feels dizzy, eyes open or closed. And more intensely, the throbbing ache between her thighs.
So when he shoves himself deep inside her, it’s almost an immediate relief for her. More than that... a new sensation she’s never experienced before. Like a little bubble that grows bigger when he begins pumping in and out of her. His soft belly resting on the curve of her pelvic bone.
She feels so full, especially when he leans forward. Trapping her between the sheets and his squishy belly. Heavy, stealing her oxygen with his weight. But for some strange reason, she loves it. It makes the bubble in her tummy feel so much bigger.
And it’s easy to say, even more so to someone as unexperienced as you, that Elvis most definitely does have, the most biggest of them all. But then you come to this point where you feel like you’re gasping for air. Everything feels so tight and so full. And that’s when his nose his the scent gland of the poor little omega.
“I can feel, sweet thing, you’re so close, baby. I’m gonna mark yah, hun. I’ll be your alpha and you’ll be my little omega.” He sweetens her up for the sharp canines threatening the skin covering the scent gland. And she too feels with her tongue how sharp her teeth suddenly are. This strangle urge, instinct, grazing this spot between his neck and his shoulder that seems to be the root of leather and lemon.
“That’s it, baby, that’s it. You can mark me too. I wouldn’t mind, darlin’.” He coaxes her to follow her instincts. “Just do what I do, yittle one. You’re gon’ feel real good just now and then you just follow my lead, alright?” He guides her as she feels the waves rocking through her body.
Suddenly, a feeling combined with the pain. Sharp, shooting, piercing into her shoulder. She can feel lips and tongue and teeth. It’s teeth that have dug themselves into her flesh. That just seems to make things so clear for her. So crystal clear. Her own little canines bite down on that spot she’s chosen.
Tiny jaw fighting to pierce the skin but she does. Her pink tongue contrasts the red as she licks the blood dripping from his shoulder. Without warning, the pleasure and release seems to double. As if she’s feeling the emotions of two. Rolling over her as her body spasms, uncontrollable pleasure making it’s way from top to bottom.
Gasping, chest heaving in unison for they now share one soul. Coaxing and cooing her down from the immense amount of pleasure that’s just now gone through your little body. “You’re okay, darlin’, you’re okay.” Everything just feels much lighter. Much easier to cope.
The incredibly unstoppable and raging heat that had been going through seems now less, much less. Almost not even there anymore. It all feels that much clearer now to you too, almost too clear. When you feel it, your immediate reaction is to rush away, but Elvis is quick to grab your hip and keep you in place.
“Don’t move, little one. You’re taking my knot, like the good omega you are. If you move it’ll hurt, yittle one.” He commands, his hand gripping your hips. The omega’s brows furrow, “Knot?” And Elvis has to remind himself of just how little you know.
“My, uh, seed. It comes from me, as an Alpha. It’s the only thing that soothes the heat, remember I told yah? That you’re goin’ through right now. It acts fast doesn’ it?” He smiles, seeing you finally able to relax a little. Your body going limp as it’s being pumped full of his hot cum.
He chuckles, his thumbs making soft soothing circles on your hips. “The seed needs to be given, just like this, just like I’m doin’ now, to keep all those nasty sweats and pains away. Every day-” he lies about that part, but who wouldn’t with a pretty girl like you. “-every day, when yah start to feel all hot and flustered like yah were. Yah understand, little one?” He coaxed her, molding her into his.
Her teeth, no longer so sharp, capture her plump bottom lip as she nods, submissively. Instinctively giving into her alpha, her mate. He grins, running his large hand over her pink cheeks. “Now, yah gotta hold still until this is done, sweet thing. Or else it won’t work and you’ll be in pain all over again.”
Nothing more than a shy nod, returned by him with a grin. “Such a good yittle girl, aren’t you? My good yittle girl now. Yah papa said I could keep you-” he lies, he didn’t even talk to the old man. Not htat he veer plans on it. That man will never see his daughter again. Hell, he’ll never step foot in the same state as him or his little mate ever again.
