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starryschoolgirl · 7 months

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Good Husbandry

Summary -> While you view preparing for your honeymoon as finding all the hottest destinations in Honolulu for tourists, Elvis knows that he must help you, his soon-to-be virgin bride, understand all that comes with the honeymoon. What a good man he is, to give you a little hands-on lesson on what good husbandry is.

Warnings -> Lovely domestic things, innocence/purity kink, religious undertones, smut, just the tip trope, hinted breeding kink, swearing, Elvis gets a little rough, mention of RFK's assassination, the reader is overbearingly sheltered when it comes to topics like sex, cum eating, fantasies of "ruining" a girl's vagina, there's definitely some plot here I won't lie, loved writing this a little too much.

WC -> 7.3k

A/N -> This is an installation of the Baby Love AU. Find Masterlist Here!

The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotion for everyone. Elvis was doing press conferences for the NBC special he was about to start filming for, and while you usually go with him, with the recent assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, it was decided unanimously that it would be best if you were at home.

Elvis would have liked to keep you by his side, but given your family’s public connection to the Kennedys he knew that the press might behave in an uncalled for manner toward you.

It was also to be noted that he’d been very patient with you the entire week, after all you did know the man. He was a close family friend, a lot closer to your father, mother, and older brother than you. But there were still tears shed a few nights ago when it had occurred.

Most of that week you sat around the current California home, keeping the couch company like you were the prettiest of pillows as you spent most of your time on the telephone with your hysterical mother and being soothed by your childhood nanny who now watched your younger brother. You’d decided to write a letter to Ethel, she was no doubt being bombarded with phone calls from press and other family with the recent death of her husband.

It was a rough way to start the month, it was only 6 days into June when something as tragic as that had occurred.

You were certain things would change in regards to the guest list of your wedding just a little over a week away, for one you could understandably count on the possible absence of Ethel Kennedy and her children. Aside from her it wasn’t Elvis’ side you were worried about, because when Elvis says jump they all say “how high?”. It was your own side that worried you.

You knew it was selfish and stupid to be thinking of that at a time like this, those poor Kennedys have been through so much. But you couldn’t help the worrisome thoughts that lingered in your mind. Your parents already didn’t approve of Elvis all that much, with the influx of emotion that this event caused they might just cancel all together and then you’ll be left without anyone from your own family.

And that alone could cause an emotional storm to brew in Elvis. He always expressed his own disdain for your family, but you knew there was guilt deep down that he felt. And if he realized that he were the reason your wedding day went without family, he would be angry with you and himself. But that was only because he felt things very deeply, he was caring in that way.

So you made sure the past few days to get in as much reading as possible, so that even if your wedding doesn’t end up being the dream you hoped for, that your knowledge of your honeymoon destination would make up for it.

It had to be perfect. You had to be perfect.

"We better get up and get changed soon..."

You hummed absently at Elvis' words as your eyes continued to skim along the page.

"Wouldn't want the rest of the boys seein' ya in ya nightie"

You hummed once more at whatever he had said, much too focused on your book to pay much mind. Elvis noticed this and laughed softly as he asked,

"What are ya readin' Honey?"

You looked up from the book that you had been enthralled in for the past half-hour to see Elvis staring at you over one of his religious books, he had a crooked smile and a quirked eyebrow, his facial expression likely from the fact that you were actually reading a book.

You smiled cheekily and crawled closer to him on the bed, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you quickly card your floral bookmark in between the pages you were on before closing it and presenting it to Elvis, your fiancé.

"It's a book all about Hawaii, it has some of the best secret locations on all the islands, including Oahu"

You smiled up at him as his eyes scrolled to look over at you then at the book, a smirk playing on his lips as he did so. He set his book down on his lap to grab yours, one of his fingers tracing over the cover as he murmured honestly,

"Well Babylove, I don't think these locations are all too secret anymore considerin' the book is 7 years old"

You hummed softly at the statement. Truthfully you only picked the book off the shelf because one, it said Hawaii which is the place you and Elvis were planning to be your honeymoon destination, and secondly, it was pink.

Elvis shook his head fondly and brought a hand up to ruffle your hair, thankfully at the moment there were no rings on his fingers to pluck and pull at the strands of your hair. With that in mind you happily leaned into the touch like a cat getting its fix from its owner.

You roll your body closer, dragging one leg over Elvis' legs as if he were one of those long body pillows. You snuggled your face into his chest, feeling the silky fabric of his short ascot scarf. He'd recently begun wearing them often, you didn't mind it because you could tug him by his scarf whenever you wanted a kiss.

Your voice was soft and murmured into the fabric, "I wanna start our marriage off right, our honeymoon has to be perfect, and this book,”

You pull back for a moment to grab the book and open it to the first page. Elvis watches with an amused smile as your dainty little finger flies across the dust-colored pages to the sentence that you read aloud,

"These spots will guarantee a sweet time with that special someone"

Elvis’ voice is laced with harmless sarcasm (that you don’t quite catch) as he says,

“Oh well if the book says so, it has to be true”

You then excitedly close the book and show Elvis the back cover, where a quote from what must've been a review was laid out in bold, "Has the hottest places for America’s hottest honeymoon destination"

Elvis laughed softly. His arm wraps around your shoulder as his hand runs up and down your back, calluses grazing the delicate fabric of your satin nightie with a scratching sound before taking its rest on the curve of your ass. He explains, "Well little one, there's a bit more to honeymoons and marriage than that"

Your eyebrow quirks in the way you learned from watching Elvis' own eyebrow within the span of your relationship. It looked as if you were suspicious of Elvis, thinking he was trying to pull the wool over your eyes.

With a gentle hand Elvis removed the book from your hand and set it on the nightstand where he then set his own book on as well. You laughed softly as Elvis’ hands pulled you into your place, till you straddled his lap innocently for him to explain something,

“Well Babylove, a big part of marriage and honeymoonin’ is good husbandry.”

You go silent for a second, thinking to yourself as your fingers trace little shapes on Elvis’ chest absentmindedly. When you come to the conclusion that you’re clueless on the subject you ask,

“What’s husbandry?”

Elvis’ hands run along your sides, running up to your ribs, down to your hips, then repeating their cycle, it was in his own absentmindedness that he did it as he explained,

“Well, husbandry is kind of cultivatin’ and makin’ use of land, sorta like plantin’ a seed and takin’ care of it.”

“Like farmers do?”

“Very good girl, like farmers do. Now ya see, that comes into play within things like marriage and honeymoons. To be a farmer, the first thing ya gotta do is plant a seed, then ya get your farm goin’ and everythin’ is just dandy as long as you keep takin’ care of that seed.”

You nodded your head along to what he was saying, it made sense. But what did that have to do with your honeymoon?

“Just as that goes, to be a husband, you also gotta plant a seed. So ya see, in marriage, instead of a farmer plantin’ a seed, it’s the husband who plants the seed, and he plants it right in your petals”

You grimaced with embarrassment as you heard Elvis mention your “petals”. Such talk was still very new to you. Having been raised by the church most of your life, and having only attended catholic private schools, you’d been taught that such talk was deplorable and vulgar.

Elvis seemed to be trying to undo all their teaching as he was very free and open with topics such as that one.

He could see the way your face began to dust a precious pink along your cheeks as you stared down at your hands scrunching up his shirt’s fabric within them. He couldn’t help but adore his sweet girl and lift your chin to take in the entirety of your innocence, the privilege of being innocent and naive having been fed to you with a silver spoon since you were a baby with your family’s fortune.

Your education didn’t span too far, it was done under the assumption that you’d be protected from the roughness of the world, the riff-raff. And though Elvis was a fair match monetarily-wise to your parents and the people you were raised around,with enough money to keep you as far away from the world’s roughness as possible, he was still considered to be in that riff-raff crowd.

Oh, what a shame for your family and the rest of your upper-class culture to have a rare purity, like you whisked away from your family made up of good breeding and a pure bloodline by a man like Elvis who would screw it all up when he one day planted his seed into your womb, making your once purebred French bloodline his own as he mixed himself into the history of your DNA to make a child that you will carry for months.

A child you will love to no end while your ancestors roll over in their graves.

Just the thought of it all made Elvis giddy.

His smile is cheeky as he grabs one of your nervous hands to soothe you while also keeping a grip on your chin with his other hand, his voice is breathy from speaking through a laugh,

“Now don’t let me lose ya, still got some splainin’ to do”

You can’t help but continue to duck your head away into your shoulder to hide your embarrassment, till Elvis pulls you out of it with his sweet little nickname for you,

“C’mon now Bubbles, need ya to keep listenin’ f’me”

You look up to meet those dark blues of Elvis’ that pierce with a strange softness.

“To seal the marriage a man plants his seed in a woman, and from then on he has to take care of that woman, that’s good husbandry. That’s part of what happens on a honeymoon. Understand?”

You nod slowly, and mumble a soft, “I understand”, before laying yourself down on Elvis, making yourself comfortable as you lay your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso, somehow squeezing their way between Elvis' frame and the mattress.

Marriage seemed scary. Ever since you had gotten engaged to Elvis you felt a different weight begin to fall on your shoulders. And though you were excited to marry Elvis, you couldn’t help but remember how your mother described marriage to be with your father.

As Elvis dragged his hands along your body tracing every poke of a bone through your skin he closed his eyes, showing his affection through the action, you thought back to how marriage was represented to you as a little girl.

There were nights when your father stayed late for work that you’d sit on the floor between your mother's legs as she sat on the sofa, by then she would be nursing her 4th glass of wine that night, and let her braid your hair before bed.

You’d whimper softly as her diamond-littered gaudy engagement ring, which was comparable to the one you now owned, would catch on some strands of your hair. But you wouldn’t voice any complaint as she was too busy voicing her own, complaining to an 8-year-old you about your father’s “wandering eye”, how he loves work more than he loves his family, and that he can’t even function without a pill, in what sense she meant “function” you’d never know, because you only saw your father as a personal superhero. The man who would bring gifts like Santa, the man who would read you to bed on the rare nights he could, the man who held the whole world in his hand every time he held you.

You didn’t recognize the man your mother would drunkenly describe. And soon after you wouldn’t recognize your own mother as she would break into tears and talk about how it’s her fault, and that she knows it all falls on her to make the marriage work, she just needs to try harder.

You’d caress her knee and try to soothe the adult, “It’s okay Mommy”, while mustering up the courage to promise her that, “It’ll be okay”

And then at the end of the night, she would turn you around and slur with as much affection as she could muster,

“Always tend to your husband Sweetie, don’t make a prude of yourself like me, don’t make a nagging wife, be pleasant and pliant and you’ll be a happy wife”

Of course you weren’t married yet, and that might’ve been what was causing you to be such a worrywart, because you were scared of the unknown. That’s why you’ve been trying your best to find ways to start the marriage off in the best way possible.

But you now had a whole other thing to worry about perfecting, husbandry.

It would all work out though, as long as you heed your mother’s words and be a pleasant, pliant wife, you’ll be just fine, and you’re confident that Elvis would never turn out to be the kind of husband that your mother described your father to be.

You mumbled into the fabric of Elvis’ shirt,

“How does a man plant his seed in a woman?”

Elvis’ hands came to a halt at your words. He thought he’d gone over this kind of thing with you before, then again there was never much need to. You never prodded for more than you were given, because you were simply unaware there was more you could get out of the pleasures of your body.

Elvis stared down at the top of your head as you kept your cheek resting on his chest, he realized how abstract your thoughts must’ve been compared to his within your relationship. He had spent countless nights holding himself back from making you his completely, there were so many times he easily could’ve done so. So many times you put yourself in the position to be vulnerable to the disgusting thought of a man who knew the pleasures you could give.

Had Elvis been a different man he would’ve done so by now, taken you shamelessly and left you crumpled on the floor next to your crumpled up clothes.

But he’d be reigned back by the thought that God wouldn’t make something like you, something so pure and holy, for sin. Had Elvis not been a god-fearing man he would’ve had his way with you.

All those nights he spent eating you out, listening to you finally break that voice box of yours in, the only thing he’d thought about was how much louder you would be when he could finally fuck you, meanwhile you thought that the sensation guided by Elvis’ tongue that momentarily blinded you was as good as it got, was as close as you’d get to God.

Oh Elvis could show you so much more, teach you so much more, touch you so much more. And as shameful as it is, he’d be a liar if he said that the fact that he wanted to be the one deflower you didn’t play a role in your engagement.

“I could show ya how it’s done Honey, would ya be alright with that? It’s a little different from anything we’ve ever done”

You sat up on his lap and nodded as you kept a hand to support yourself up on his stomach. He basked in the sight of you with a small smile, digging his hands through your hair like roots in the dirt, so deep and entangled it could be hard to tell where your hair began and his hands ended.

It wasn’t at all painful in the way your mother’s hands used to rest in your hair during her drunken stupor.

It was gentle as Elvis always was.

He used a gentle force to pull you close enough for him to press a kiss to your forehead for a moment and hold it there, you closed your eyes and let out a breath, any stiff stress in your body leaving at the touch of Elvis’ lips.

He pulled away, lips and hands.

“Lay down Baby”

Elvis patted your side of the bed and you quickly laid down as you usually would, and with a quick fwip of his hips Elvis’ knees rested just outside your thighs, his entire body hovering above yours as he reached over to your nightstand.

You heard the clink of glass, no doubt the two glass figurines you’d had since you were a child, your voice was soft but panicked as you felt a pang of protectiveness over your childhood trinkets.

“W-What are you doing?”

His response was immediate as he knew your sentimental feelings toward your figurines,

“It’s alright Honey, jus’ turnin’ Dottie and Lottie around”

“Oh.”

You let out a sigh of relief before having a blush spread like a wildfire in the summer across your cheeks. When Elvis had first touched you, you felt the need to turn your glass figurines Dolores and Charlotte, also known as Dottie and Lottie, around before he could continue any further. When he asked you why you could only mumble a quiet explanation about wanting to preserve their innocence. Elvis didn’t mind the strange gesture, he thought it was rather cute actually, it was something so girlish and sweet, something he’d never think of, it further instituted that you really were an endearing little girl.

And ever since then anytime Elvis touched you, he’d always turn your figurines toward the wall for you. And him doing it now meant that to plant his seed in you, he had to touch you.

You close your eyes as you relax into the mattress completely, and feel a shift in the bed then the cold air began to linger up your nightie, or rather Elvis made your nightie linger up your skin, giving way for him to view the cutely contrasting color of your pastel yellow panties to your pastel blue short satin nightie.

As the bed shifted a little more you allowed Elvis to part your legs so he could slide off the piece of fabric, his hands caressing the skin of your ankles a few seconds longer than the rest of your leg, and then he intricately removed your panties off your feet he laid them on the outside of your thigh, within arm's length.

You assumed what you’d be feeling next was what you always felt whenever he touched you, those calloused fingers of his walking their way up your thighs as he made himself comfortable right between the two limbs, his mouth and nose inches away from that bundle of nerves that he so lovingly explained was the bud of your little rose.

His fingers would then drift down to what he called the petals of your rose, separating them gently, exposing your hole to the cold air of the room making you shiver like the scared little girl you were as he did so. But he liked it, liked how visceral all your reactions were from your inexperience.

Only this time, you’d been wrong as you heard the familiar shink of his belt, and as if you were a trained dog and his belt were a clicker, your eyes shot open as you knew what that sound meant. It meant you got to do the touching, but, why were your panties off if you were doing the touching?

As you sat up you saw Elvis shucking his pants and boxers down, you watched with a blush as you saw his dick, it wasn’t yet completely hard, it more so at half-staff if anything, with that it maintained enough loose skin so that the usual image of his veins bulging profusely through the thin skin was not a sight you’d yet see, but you could change that.

As you sat up with your legs still spread enough so that Elvis once he was free of his pants was able to swiftly kneel between them. You leaned forward with an eager hand but Elvis had caught your wrist before you’d made it to your target, you batted your eyelashes up at him in confusion.

“Elvis?”

He had a crooked smile on his lips and asked, “Don’t ya remember what ya gotta do first? C’mon Hon we’ve been over this a dozen times”. You had to think for a moment but felt flushed with embarrassment at your own mistake.

Elvis’ eyebrow ticked upward as he caught your realization, then he slowly raised your hand up to your mouth for you to lick a stripe along it. When he didn’t immediately pull away you knew to keep lapping at the skin till Elvis saw it suitable.

His head tilted down a little as he made eye-contact with you through the cracks of your fingers, staring at you as you licked lines of wet along the lines of your palm, he was mumbling a praise or too like “There ya go”, and “Just like that”. You only shut your mouth as his free hand came up to cup your cheek and gently push you back from your hand.

With your newfound view of his cock it definitely looked less limp than before but Elvis had taught you how to get it standing, and you wanted to show him that you could. He’d been loosening the reins lately and had been giving you more independence to touch him in the way you knew he liked. But at the perfect moments he’d step in and be a helping hand, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he showed you what kind of pace he liked when his dick twitched a specific way.

It was him helping you build this muscle memory that was slowly etching its way into your brain, on the walls of your skull, and in the nerves of your hand

With the softest of groans leaving Elvis’ mouth your eyes shot up from his cock that maintained the attention of your palm, wanting to see his face, see the preview of your own triumph as you continued to stroke with the pace his hand guided yours along.

His smile was gone as his mouth twisted slightly to let out the low noise, he licked his lips quickly and tightened his hold on your hand, in turn tightening your hold on his cock as he ran your palm up and down it, your voice was hesitant and soft as you questioned, “L-Like that Elvis? I do it like that…”

He hummed an affirmation and mumbled, “Keep at it”, before pulling his hand off yours, leaning back on the bed on his palms while watching you with lowered lids, had they been any lower they would’ve been closed.

You tried shuffling yourself closer by planting your heels into the mattress and scooting yourself closer, but it was hard to focus on both things. You didn’t want to louse up what a good job you were doing, but you felt you could do better if you were just a little closer.

Elvis must’ve read your inner turmoil as he leaned off his palms and cupped the back of your knees with each hand, pulling you closer at the top of your calves where they connected with your thighs. As you continued with your strokes you noticed how close you now were, your bare pussy had never been so close to Elvis’ cock.

With the realization a strange curiosity shot through you, a kind of curiosity that had filled your senses one of the first times you’d sat on Elvis’s lap. He kept you on one knee easily, and it had been the leg that he often bounced absentmindedly, and as he easily bounced you on his leg you felt a weird sensation, and that damned curiosity of yours got the best of you subtly shifted on his leg, and suddenly the jumbling of your legs on his knee had shifted to a jumbling on a small bundle of nerves between your legs.

No you wouldn’t let your curiosity get the best of you again, you wouldn’t.

As Elvis pulled his hands away from your legs he leaned back on one palm and the other he reached forward to rub that very bundle of nerves you’d just been thinking of about. Just the slightest bit of force made your body react with what could be described as a convulsion as you breathed out a noise of surprise.

Elvis’ almost dazed look on his face didn’t shift as he glided his calloused thumb down between your folds, scooping up whatever was beginning to wet them, then using it as a lubricant to give your clit a good rub down, his facial expression unwavering as he watched you twitch and struggle to focus on doing a good job.

His voice was low and almost sounded slurred as he mumbled,

“Now this is hard ain’t it Honey? Tryin’ to pleasure each other at the same time?”

Your face shrunk and your lip quivered as you tried to maintain that you wouldn’t break under the sensations of it all, wanting to do good.

Upon gaining no answer Elvis’ eyes glazed up to meet yours, they now shifted to sympathy as he reassured you gently with little circles of his thumb around your bud,

“It’s alright Baby, I know it. I know it’s hard, that’s why through marriage a man can plant his seed in a woman, makes it easier y’know? A man can help you while he helps himself, ya shouldn’t have t’be doin’ work Honey”

You don’t know when you started nodding along to his words, you hardly understood them, but the way his eyebrows arched, the way his lips curled, the way his voice drew out, he seemed like he knew everything in the world. He was so in his element that you wouldn’t question it if he told you a cat were a dog.

But you had to ask, through your soft pants and whimpers, “H-how?” How was it possible to both be pleasured at the same time? How was it possible for both of you to reach that special spot just between the earth and the heavens where all felt impossibly right?

Elvis’ lips grew to a smirk once more as he removed his thumb from your clit and his hand wrapped around yours to pull you away. As you looked down you saw that familiar sight, that thin skin stretched out to show that long vein that started at the side of his dick and traveled down the center.

His other hand ran up your calf, to your thigh just to rest on your stomach, still covered by the top of your satin nightie, and with a firm force and a, “Lie back f’me” you were laid down on the bed with your legs spread.

He spread them a little further, and you watched as best you could while still laying down, craning your neck painfully to see what he was doing as he made a ring out of his thumb and index finger.

Elvis’ eyes met with yours, making sure you were watching before lining the tip of his cock up with the little makeshift hole he made of his fingers for demonstration.

“When a man plants his seed, he fills you with himself. This right here,” He lifted the little ring he’d made of two fingers, “This is like that little hole between your petals, so what I’m gonna do is fill it just slightly,” he slid the ring over the tip of his cock, leaving you to watch with a mouth slightly agape as his movement stretches the foreskin.

It’s not like when you stroke him though, he stops much too short, and doesn’t even go near the base of his cock, he ends at the base of the tip only.

“Now, this much is just till the wedding Hon. We can only do just the tippy top Baby, can’t break ya in just yet, we gotta wait till we’re unified under God to make that kinda connection-”

“...cause it’s special”

Elvis looked up at you, surprised to hear your soft voice so suddenly, it seems the words left your mouth with a little thoughtful pout. God, let this man hold back today. Let him be graceful and kind to his babylove, Elvis thought to himself as he smiled softly and hummed,

“Yes it is sweet girl, it’s somethin’ special”

As a moment of sweet silence filled the air the two of you made eye contact, you smiled, feeling unsure of what was to come, he smiled back knowingly.

“Are ya ready Babylove?”

You bit your lower lip nervously and could only nod with trusting eyes. Elvis’ figure suddenly shut out most of the light from the ceiling as he supported his body above yours with one hand while he used his other to line up the tip of his cock.

You let out a shaky breath as he parted your fold with the tip of his cock before running it along your leaking slit. From the bottom up past the top till he hit that bundle of nerves that he could find with a blindfold. You squeaked softly at the bit of force he was using to circle your clit with his cock.

Elvis swore he’d do everything with you in mind, but as he watched the way your big eyes would crinkle to little bouts of eyelid folds and as he saw the way your lip quiver with every squeak and breath you let out, he couldn’t help himself but gauge your reaction to a little something.

Your breaths came out one by one in panic as you suddenly felt the tip of his cock begin to bat around your little bundle of nerves from the top, from side to side, even attacking from the bottom. Your eyes shot open from their little crinkles of stress and just before you could open your mouth his little batting around of your sensitive bud turned to slowed drawn out circles rubbing along the edge.

“That feels good huh Honey? It’s gonna get even better, just need ya to relax. Uh huh, that’s good, you’re doin’ good”

You relaxed into it, your jaw falling slack and your breaths coming out shallow. As you sank into that warmth that always accompanied Elvis’ gentle touch, Elvis pulled his neck back slightly to get a better look at your hole, with your folds parted he had a perfect view if he could look past his cock. He craned his neck a little to the left and found the target, wide open from your relaxed state, he licked his thumb to lubricate it and like a veteran, he navigated his cock down and at the forefront of it as his thumb took its place and pace in circling your clit, had you not been watching through lidded eyes you wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Here it come Baby, here it come”

Elvis couldn’t even look at you to gauge your reaction as his head fell back immediately as he was engulfed by your heat. Somewhere in the distance he heard a high-pitched noise but he was too high on the feeling- No, the knowledge that the first thing to fill you, to really fill you was his uncut cock’s head.

He breathed out to the ceiling, or rather to the Lord,

“Fuck…”

How could a feeling like this fill his mind, body, and soul from just the tip going in. Shit if he hadn’t already proposed to you he would do it now, just so he could one day feel the full effect of your body on his.

And then he finally peered down at you, and you were a sight to behold. He hadn’t been with a virgin in a long time, and the ones he had been with, you made them look like the most experienced girls in the world.

Your face was crumpled and your clenched fist was brought up to your mouth, you bit down so hard on your knuckles Elvis could see the skin losing its color around your little teeth. His hand slid down to your hip, running along the skin soothingly, as he hummed out, “Relax, it’s alright, just relax”

You nodded and pulled your fist from your mouth to show you were relaxing, but as your lower lip trembled Elvis could only softly remind, “Relax…”

And after a few moments of Elvis running his hands along your hips you spoke in an unsure whisper, “I-Is that it?”, Elvis sighed with a smile, “No Hon, don’t worry, but I can’t show ya the rest till ya relax, alright?” Elvis could feel you tightly around him, if he tried to pull the head of his cock back out he’d hurt you, he knew that.

"I-I am relaxed"

“No ya not Babylove”

You sighed softly, feeling a bit frustrated, this wasn’t what you thought it would be, it hurt. And it was obvious that you weren’t acting in the most pleasing way, so you lied through your teeth with a bit of an edge to your quiet words, “I’m relaxed.”

Elvis’ soft smile fell slightly at the tone of voice, and his eyebrows rose as he stared down at you, only now you avoided eye contact and opted to look at the wall. You tried to focus on the paint of the wall as best you can but it was thrown out the door as you felt a painful pull.

You whined at the feeling, and watched as Elvis pulled out, now you attempted to look him in the eye but he didn’t even spare you a glance as he muttered before lining himself up again, “Call that fuckin’ relaxed? If you’re so relaxed it should be easy goin’ back in”

Before you could voice an apology he’d already shoved the tip back in. It was much rougher than the first time he had put it in, it had you release a loud whimper and kick your feet, your heels pushing you away from his body, but his hips only chased further.

And those hands that were soothingly rubbing along your hips earlier now had them in a bruising grip to keep you from moving.

“Said ya relaxed, so fuckin’ act like it-”

Elvis let out a low groan as he stroked his cock while your little hole contracted from the stress of it all, it was like you were trying to swallow him, trying to suck him down into you. Almost like your body knew you needed his seed. And had he been a different man, or more accurately, had you been a different girl, he would’ve given it to you without shame. But you were different, you were special, you made this special.

He pulled out once more just to push back in, and then he repeated with no time in between, leaving you gasping at the rough push and pull of his cock head and whining at it, before blubbering out a series of apologies to him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, ‘m not relaxed..! I-It hurts Elvis..!”

He’d ignored your apologies, but the way you said his name, like he could solve all your problems while also causing all of them, it was like you had this type of innocence. A pure innocence that no matter the pain he’d cause you, you’d still love him. Like if he kicked you, you’d come running right back.

Elvis stopped himself from pulling out once more and stared down at you, his grip released and one of his hands cupped your cheek and rested a thumb at the corner of your eye just before your temple, ready to catch a tear in case those teary eyes of yours spill over.

You stared up at him with a frown and pulled your hands to rest nervously on your stomach, feeling a sudden sense of awkwardness mixed with discomfort at the idea of Elvis being upset with you. But instead he seemed to sympathize with you,

“Now you see, ya gotta listen to me Babylove. I don’t expect much from ya, all I expect is honesty, now, be honest and let me know when you relax.”

You let out a shaky breath and soft noise as Elvis’ thumb landed back on your clit, beginning to rub those circles that make your hips twist a little from instinct. Elvis’ lips had been on yours in the blink of an eye, but his kiss was deep and slow, it wasn’t like when he’d kiss you so hard and so fast that your teeth knocked against his. Instead you felt his tongue explore each and every inch of your mouth carefully, could feel the way his tongue swiped along the small space between your lower gums and teeth.

His nose lightly grazed against the start of your cheek as he tilted his head to get a different angle.

And in what would be one of the only moments for you to catch your breath within the kiss, you managed to breath out, “‘M ready”

It was a different kind of tug due to the efforts of the both of you. You were relaxed and open and Elvis was only rocking back and forth into you, no complete pulling, you couldn’t handle that yet.

With each rock of his hips, you let out a little breath or squeak. For a moment you lost focus as you watched the way Elvis used the thumb on one hand to stroke your little bud while using his other hand to stroke himself, but you were pulled back into your moment with Elvis as he groaned lowly, followed by a groan that sounded a bit more throaty. He was close.

And knowing that it was because he was in you made you feel a sense of excitement, and sense of sexuality, realizing you could make a man feel this way by doing nothing but laying there like a pliant doll.

Be a pliant wife. Your mother was right.

Your hips dragged upward slightly, crashing into his hips that were rocking down into you, the collision of skin made you moan softly as your manicured nails reached for the sheets, one hand gripped them brutally while your other hand ended up in Elvis' hair, not gripping, only carding through the dark strands.

“E-Elvis, it’s- I’m…”

You couldn’t describe it, what was coming, but thankfully you didn’t have to as he mumbled into your lips,

“I know Baby, I know. It’s comin’ f’me to, comin’ fast Babylove- H-how’s it comin’ for you?”

As the upward grind of your hips turned to little upward thrusts that your feet could manage on the slippery sheets of the bed you could hardly choke out a word as his thumb had entertained that warmth just below your stomach for too long, it’d been teased and tugged along far too long from the rubbing of his thumb on your little bundle of nerves that at its peaking point, it snapped, leaving you to try and choke out the words,

“It- I- It’s-”

As your mouth remained agape but your voice fell silent, and those pitiful attempts at thrusts of yours fell back to wishful grinds of your hips. Elvis thanked the Lord, he’d been trying his best to hold on for you, to slow his rocking when he felt himself get a little too close, he’d been edging himself almost the entire time for you.

And now as he pulled out and continued to stroke his cock with one hand, the hand previously fondling your clit reached for the pair of panties he laid aside so long ago.

As you caught your breath you watched as Elvis’ hand stroked twice, thrice, four more times along his length before he buried his cock in your crumpled up panties, letting his head fall back and a guttural moan fill the room as he reached his peak.

After a few moments of silence accompanied by the pants of the both of you Elvis removed the metal ring holding his short ascot scarf together at the center of his neck, you heard a clink as he tossed it somewhere on the wood floor, then you watched as the fabric got closer to your face, closing your eyes at the contact you could feel Elvis wiping away the dampness building on your head and cheeks from the heat what you just experienced. As the feeling left you watched as he wiped his own face off before bringing the satin scarf down to your petals, wiping off the proof of your pleasure from your pussy’s lips then wiping off your thighs that happened to be the victims of the heated juices that spread through your body which were shoveled out from the earlier pulls of Elvis’ cock’s head.

After Elvis caught his breath and pulled the panties away from his cock to see his work, then he flipped it toward you, and you saw that familiar white liquid that Elvis told you was a reward for your hard work.

“When we get married and I fill you with my seed, this is what I’ll be fillin’ ya with, I promise…”

Your eyes were lidded and tired, but full of love as you took in the sight of your fiancé, his once perfectly coiffed hair now ruffled, you could see sweat stains forming on the blue silk shirt he didn’t bother to take off before starting, and those eyelashes of his must’ve been batting so much as he now had a stray on his cheek, he must’ve missed it with his scarf.

As Elvis prepped your reward, scraping it off the pastel fabric with a finger you parted your lips, and as he finger-fed you his seed you accepted the finger into your mouth, closing your lips around it as you sucked it clean. “Atta girl, did so well”

Your own little finger guided up his cheek to swipe the eyelash off his cheek, he watched with confusion at the way you smiled around his finger, then you flipped your finger around to show him.

As he crawled over your body to lay down beside you, removing his finger in the process you spoke with a bit of hoarseness, “Make a wish”

Elvis smiled fondly and put a hand over your thigh, “You can have this one Babylove”

You smiled before checking once more, “Are you sure?”

He wanted to laugh at how serious you were taking it all, and with a gentle rub of his hand he reassured, “I’m sure Honey, I’m sure”

You smiled down at the little eyelash resting on the middle of your index finger. And you wished for all that you could want, you wished for a happy marriage.

I had so much fun!! I really liked writing this, and I'm so happy I've had requests to write this character to the point I can turn it into a whole au!! hope you liked it.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!

@fadedsummerlove, @lialocklear, @astral-eyed-cat here it is lovelies

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bodyelectr1c · 2 months

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plaything

austin doesn’t let the reader finish until he wants her to

literally no plot, just smut

warnings: orgasm denial, teasing, oral (f receiving), degradation, edging, a little overstim, implied age gap, possessive austin, daddy kink

this is my first time writing, it’s so nasty but kind of hot. i’m a sucker for an older guy, so i picture a sexy age gap. anyways, enjoy!

austin hadn’t let you off easily, forbidding you from touching yourself while simultaneously leaving you unfinished and begging, writhing; a string of desperate whines and pleas leaving your throat. it was clear to you he didn’t care for your pleasure, he just wanted to get himself off. you were nothing more than a fuckdoll to him. he’d no shame in pulling you by your hair- no matter when; no matter where, dragging you to the nearest bathroom, shed, closet, whatever- and fucking you senseless

“fuck- you’re such a slut baby,”

“your cunt is so fucking tight, just for me”

“you’re-fuck, gonna be the death of me..”

he cooed ‘affectionate’ remarks at you in between progressively sloppier thrusts- if they could even be labelled affectionate. you regarded it as love on his part, you both know you enjoyed being degraded, and he knew you’d do anything to make daddy cum.

sometimes, whilst jackhammering into your pussy, he’d lazily reach down and thumb at your untouched clit in circular motions, occasionally dipping his hand down to where you both connected, attempting to fit one of his thick fingers in alongside. he did this just to hear you scream his name, and he’d stop as soon as he felt his climax nearing.

it was habitual, his hips would begin to stutter, his moans would get more desperate- louder and lower, his degrading remarks would descend into a string of pet names, his eyes fluttering closed as he groaned. “babybabybaby”

and then it was over, he’d pull out with a desperately hot groan, his cum painting every part of your body as he’d collapse onto the bed, his larger frame dipping the mattress next to you. you’d scream his name to no avail, trying to chase the high that he brought you near, but never cared to complete. your own hand darted down to your throbbing clit, rubbing desperate and fast circles around the sensitive nerves before they were met with a sharp slap on austin’s behalf, and then an absence of any sensation. he’d pull your hands away from your clit, puffy and leaking.

“you cum, when i make you cum, i don’t fuck college whores who get off on anyone’s fingers but mine.” he’d growl, pulling your thighs apart after you’d began rubbing them together in an attempt at any friction, his words turning you on impossibly more; you felt like you could cum untouched, coaxed by more of his dirty, perverted requests. you let him know, too, babbling incoherent sentences and grabbing onto his toned arms, repeating over and over again to just “let me cum daddy, i’ll be good i promise, fuck- pleasepleaseplease austin”

to your dismay, he’d almost always get up off the bed, watching you writhing and twitching from your previous proximity to your orgasm, and spit out:

“you’re so desperate it’s pathetic,”

before walking away to take a scathing hot shower, leaving you sensitive, but obedient enough to never touch yourself in the hopes that he’d come back and please you to completion.

in those blissful moments where he’d come back from the bathroom after an excruciatingly long time, finding pleasure in the confidence that you’d wait for him to make you cum, he’d hover his tall frame over you, watching attentively, towel loosely hanging on his hips, v line completely visible above the thin cloth, hair still wet as an aftermath of his shower. he’d let out a gruff and low laugh at how much of you whore you were being, fucked out without being allowed to cum. he found it comical, and a fucking sexy sight to see. his girl, spread out just for him, obedient and desperate to please him in any way you could. he got hard again just thinking about it.

he’d lower himself between your thighs, much to your relief as you let out a pleasured sigh, letting your head fall back against the bed as his stubble brushed your clit alongside his nose, teasing you one last time, evoking a sharp twitch in your abdomen, before he brought his tongue out to swirl around your sensitive cunt. your desperation to get off overcame you, you couldn’t help but lose your fingers in his damp hair whilst pulling his head down to force him onto your clit. he didn’t stop you, instead alternating between sucking your clit- hard, as if to signal that he was still in charge, and swirling his tongue around your pleasure soaked pussy, focusing his attention on one sensitive spot that made you whine louder and higher.

hearing you express your immense pleasure was a profession of devotion for him, and it turned him on profusely, causing him to moan around your cunt, sending vibrations around you that fluttered around your walls. his sucking and teasing was becoming too much for you, and he didn’t give you a second to rest, pulling you back toward him with a tight grip on your hips every time you tried to lift yourself in an attempt to catch your breath. he knew you could take it.

you felt your climax nearing you as you began to convulse, closing your thighs around his head, his still damp hair tickling your legs as he sucked harder and harder, also aware of how close you were due to the incessant chant of unholy curses and moans left your body. it was sinful, truly, his chin already soaked with the anticipation of your climax, mixed with the noises you made as he lost himself in between your legs.

“daddy, i’m so close, please let me cum, please let me cum, fuck!” you begged as he looked up from his task at hand, mouth never leaving your swollen clit, icy blue eyes focused on the pornographic sight before him, basking in it.

your climax washed over you as you let out a last scream of his name, pushing his head back down as you bucked your hips sloppily against his face, allowing yourself to release, the warm knot in your stomach untying itself as your eyes rolled back into your head.

as you lay there, panting, coming down from your intense high, austin outlined your clit in slow circular motions with his fingers to coax you through your comedown, making you twitch under the aftermath of the stimulation, bucking your hips up again slightly before letting go of all the tension in your muscles and collapsing farther back into the mattress, hands still intertwined in his now messy hair as he moved to lie next to you, using the white sheets to clean the remainder of your juices off his face before turning to face you where you lay, breathless

“fuck baby, that- was hot.”

#austin butler x y/n #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #austin x reader #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis presley smut #Spotify #ally talks

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your-nanas-house · 1 month

Text

Big Daddy Elvis

◇ Pairing: Big Daddy!Elvis Presley X girlfriend!Reader

◇ Warnings: fat tummy worship, smut, handjob, insecure E, hairy body (?), established relationships, age gap (they are both off age), love, glimpse of silly Elvis

◇ Summary: Elvis wants to be intimate with his girlfriend since it's been forever since their last time.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

His blue eyes kept moving from a part of his body to another as he stood bare in front of the mirror of the huge bathroom. He used to weight less, be less shamed of his own body and even more active in the bedroom.

It wasn't like he didn't have any woman, damn... on contrary, he still had plenty of them swirling around him like moths attracted to the light of a lamp.... But he didn't loved himself like he should had.

"Honey? Is everything okay in there?" The voice of his latest flame broke his trail of thoughts, making his heart beat faster in slight panic and shame

"Y-y-yeah, Satnin'..." his low voice cracked as soon as he replied, making him curse under his breath while rushing to grab something to cover himself up.

A gentle knock and Y/n's muffled voice made itself hear from the wooden door again

"You don't sound okay, love. Can I come in?" She asked weakly not wanting to upset him or scare him for some unknown reason.

The young woman had sadly noticed Elvis' mood in the past days and she didn't want to add more stress on his shoulders, she loved him too much that even the thought hurt her.

"No, wait for daddy on the bed, little one" Elvis asked harsher than he intended, his shaky hands moving under the water of the sink in an attempt to calm himself and refresh his face.

It's been too long since he made love to Y/n, he honestly couldn't wait anymore... he needed to swallow his discomfort caused by his changing body and seduce her as only he could do.

It took him longer than expected to finally find the courage to walk out of the hotel bathroom and step in their bedroom, where the young woman was hopefully still waiting for him.

"There you are, E. You feeling allright?" Y/n asked softly not looking up, too busy fixing the food she got them and check if everything was there on the cart.

His careful steps and the soft noises caused by his robe dragging on the floor made her looked up bit worried since she received no answer from the older man.

His hair were wet, plastered on his forehead and bit messy since he probably ran his hand through it. He was trying to keep a poker face on but his beautiful eyes clearly showed the discomfort and sadness that he was feeling.

Y/n gifted him a small smile, pretending she couldn't read through him, as he started to breath heavier, his hands grabbing into something to keep them from shaking as his chest rose up and down. He couldn't back away now... not when she was all dolled up for him.

"Love that lil' dress on you, Satnin'... makes me feel things every time you put it on for me" he murmured lowly, his accent getting thicker just like she liked it; there was still insecurity behind his sweet blue eyes but it slowly faded away as soon as he saw her surprised and flattered reaction at his comment.

"Y-y-ya know.. I-I just need a glimpse at that pretty face of yours... and I'm already all fired up—" he continued, gathering enough confidence to step closer to her and brush his big hands on her arms so to slowly remove her robe.

His cold rings made her shiver just as much as his intense lustfull gaze; it all happened in such little time but the young woman's body was already reacting at him like usual.

His hands wandered all over her, resting one back up on the back of her neck so that he could tilt her head as he liked before moving to the next step.

"So y-you know how you always say that you like... love my belly?" He corrected himself, his voice coming out weaker than he intended and his grip got bit tighter as he squeezed softly her nape.... not daring to take a glimpse at his fat tummy.

Damn, he needed to distract himself or he wouldn't be able to act like he had planned.

A slight pull and his lips were now on her warm neck, leaving wet kisses on her vulnerable throat and feeling her heartbeat which boosted a bit his ego since it was increasing due to the arousal

"Remember... what you like to do when we lay together on our bed..?" Elvis whispered, brushing his nose against her ear to inhale her scent, which never missed to turn him on. Her locks tickled his face, making him smile softly as past memories of their after sex came back to his mind.

As his hands started to roam and rub her flesh, taking a hold of it to knead with passion and lust, he allowed her to slowly unzip his tracksuit and reveal his chest covered by thick dark blonde hair, lower his fat tummy was peppered with softer ones which got thicker right under his belly button and disappeared in the waistband of his pants.

"You like... to squeeze it, hm...?" His voice got lower and raspier, his heartbeat quickened and his skillful but shaky fingers removed carefully her last pieces of clothing so that she was bare in front of his towering form

"...And then you like to... kiss it, right..?" Elvis continued earning a lustful moan from the younger woman, who was getting worked up by the mere view of his naked torso plus his voice and light touch.

The King was not different, he was getting more and more riled up at the reactions of his girl.

Lust was slowly eating him up, making him almost act as an animal in heath if it wasn't for the warm feeling of affection caused by her love filled gaze.

"A-And then... y-you like to... gently bite it, right..?" The statement came out more as a whimper followed by a shaky breath, since her well groomed hands reached for his sensitive skin... playing teasingly with his chest hair while gradually moving lower

"All over" she purred with a sensual smile, her soft lipstick stained lips brushing against his warm skin, leaving open mouth kisses till down to his waistband.

As the young woman kept getting lower, Elvis couldn't hold back anymore the satisfied smile as he spoke back in a half-raspy, half-normal voice.

His finger twitched slightly at the strong need to just push her pretty face where he needed her the most, so that he could receive some well deserved friction

"Oh, yes... yes, all over... baby" he hummed, allowing a low groan to escape him when Y/n lowered carefully his sweatpants, letting them fall down his thick hairy thighs to his ankles, thus freeing its length.

Her soft huff right on his warm skin made him twitch, his half-hard cock swinged free now that it wasn't held by his pants anymore... since he didn't put any underwear.

Y/n was about to grumble something, since his dick nearly slapped her across the face when she took care of his pants, but she quickly stopped as soon as she heard Elvis' contagious and hearthy laugh.

A small smile appeared on her face and she looked up, biting her bottom lip due to the perfect view she had now on her kneeled position. The young woman was close enough to be able to see perfectly the roundness of her boyfriend’s tummy and his blue gorgeous eyes tightly shut in anticipation.

The mood from amused and playful quickly switched back to one filled with need and desperation to feel any kind of touch.

"You're so beautiful, love" Y/n whispered softly against his flesh, gently nibbling at his belly while her hands finally got to work, pumping a couple of times his cock before moving his foreskin and reveal his pinkish tip which was already leaking of pre-cum.

It didn't happen often that Elvis allowed her to worship him, expecially after the weight gain, so she didn't waste any time partially in fear for him to back away... or even shy away from her.

"So, so, so fucking sexy" she moaned out the loved filled praise, letting his big hand grab her nape again and press her eager mouth more into his fat while never stopping to work on his cock after spitting on her hand to use it as lube.

Her right hand started to rub his tip as her other hand worked his length from the base till she saw his body tense after some minutes.

His groans and praises got louder and his hips bucked forward to make her fist hit harder his base as she tightened her grip a bit around his lenght. His breath got quicker and he finally allowed himself to take a look at his girl, admiring with a soft blush on his cheeks how she shamelessly nearly made out with his belly while never stopping to pleasure him till he finally released.

It didn't stop there, though, her hands worked on his softening cock slowly as to not overstimulate him but to guide him through the orgasm and her mouth kept kissing, licking and worshiping his belly as if there wasn't a tomorrow, not really caring about the dripping seed and the messiness of the act.

#70s elvis #70s elvis presley #elvis presley fandom #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic

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memphisflash · 25 days

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐰

⊱ word count: 3,9K

⊱ warnings: dead dove do not eat!, stepbrother!elvis, stepsister!reader, reader hates elvis but honestly... not really, reader is a virgin but not completely clueless, ages are not mentioned but i figured reader is somewhere around 17/18 and elvis 21/22ish, very dom!elvis, non-con/dubious consent, strong language, pwp, smut; semi-public, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (m. receiving), forced deep throating, first time penetration, reader bleeding on elvis as he breaks her hymen, he pretty much splits her open OKAY, creampie, crying during sex. MDNI!!!

⊱ authors note: it's kinda short bc i wrote it in like an hour- i was too excited, lol. proof read it once bc the more i read it, the more i hate it, ANYWAYSSS. i probably missed a few triggers here or there, so if i did, let me know! my first darker fic, but knowing how much y'all love the feral stuff, i'm sure it's considered tame to some. ha! anyways hope y'all like, and don't forget to interact- i love reading what you guys think!! <333

⊱ dead dove masterlist | main masterlist

If there was one person you hated the most in the world, it had to be Elvis Presley.

You didn’t even have a good reason for it, you just did. Couldn’t stand the sight of him – that stupid crooked grin that tugged at his lips, which looked way too soft by the way, and had all your girlfriends swooning over. Those eyes that were oh so blue and able to turn a shade darker whenever he was moody. The way he knew how to push your buttons.

Every single time.

He was capable of making your blood crawl, getting you so annoyed and angry at some points where all you wanted to do was cry. You never did, though. Couldn’t let him catch you spilling tears over him because he’d never let you live it down.

Long story short: you cursed the day your mother married his father.

Vernon was a nice man and your mother genuinely seemed happy with Mr. Presley, which is what you still called him despite his protests. And you were a good girl, the perfect daughter – you weren’t going to get in between your mother and Elvis’ father just because you despised the Presley boy.

You were just going to bite your tongue and suck it up… even on this damn road trip that your mother and stepfather deemed the perfect opportunity for the family to bond.

You hated Route 66 for existing. Crossing eight states and three time zones on the backseat with Elvis? Your own personal hell.

“Stop hoggin’ the damn blanket.” Elvis hissed at you as he tugs on the fleece blanket you had draped over your body, while flipping through one of the dozen magazines you either brought from home or bought at the last gas station.

The sun had set a little while ago and you lost interest in the barely able to see view. The only thing you knew was that you were in Missouri, the second state. Six more to go.

“It’s my blanket. I told you to get yours out of the trunk.” You snap back at him, though keeping your voice low as you’d noticed your mother drifting off to sleep in the passenger seat in front of you.

Elvis rolls his eyes and tugs on the blanket a little harder, succeeding in stealing most of it and exposing your bare legs. Before you had the chance to protest, he was scooting a little closer and draping the fluffy blanket over the both of you.

“Where’s the fun in usin’ my own?” He smirks as he pulls it up so it was covering the both of you up until your shoulders, causing your magazine to crumble under the fabric. You scoffed in annoyance and glared at him, blue eyes holding a mischievous gleam in them as they looked up at you, your stepbrother having put his chin on your shoulder.

“Ugh, get off of me, Elvis.” You groaned softly, lifting your shoulder which forces him to pull back a little. You wanted to scoot away from, because why does his cologne smell so good?!, but you couldn’t. Trapped between the car door and his larger frame, you had absolutely nowhere to go.

And Elvis only intensified the sense of being trapped by sliding his arm around your waist under the blanket, pulling you in his side. Grin plastered on his face, he didn’t break eye contact once.

“I’m bored, sis.”

“I’m not your sister.”

“Yes, you are,” He whispers lowly as he grips onto your hip, squeezing it firmly as he leans in a little closer. “Our parents are married, remember? That makes me your brother. Older brother, in case ya forget.”

Your heart skipped a beat, breath hitching in your throat. You hated him, you hated him, you hated him… but then why did it feel so good to have him this close to you?

And oh so dangerous. So damn dangerous.

“Your father is r-right there, Elvis,” you whisper as your eyes shift to Vernon, who had his eyes on the dark road ahead, fingertips softly tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was softly playing on the radio.

Elvis chuckled softly, as if to say he didn’t care. And he didn’t. The blanket was covering the both of you completely and it was too dark inside the car to see what was going on. He knew for sure his father wouldn’t take his eyes off of the road.

“All the more reason to keep quiet.” He simply says and you didn’t expect his next move as he slips his hand in the pyjama shorts you’d put on in the toilet of the last gas stop. He didn’t waste any time, obviously eager to get his hands on you, as his hand had slipped right in your panties at the same time.

Maybe it was intentional, maybe it wasn’t. But it had you gasping softly, the magazine which had been clenching in your hands dropping to the floor.

“Elvis, n-no,” You grab his wrist when you feel his fingertips sliding down your slit, parting your lips for him so he could feel if you were wet or not.

You were, but definitely not enough to get fingered on the backseat of your parents’ car.

He pulls his hand out of your shorts and out from underneath the blanket, holding his fingers in front of your mouth. “Make ‘em wet.”

You look at him, eyes widening as your cheeks flush. Your eyes shift over to Vernon again, who wasn’t suspecting a thing, but your paranoia was growing. Shaking your head at the older male next to you, you keep your lips firmly shut.

“Lick my fingers or I’ll move this blanket away. Now, Y/N.”

It wasn’t a question, nor a suggestion. It sounded a god awful lot like an order.

Scared that he would actually follow up on his threat, you slowly part your lips as you look at him, a warmth spreading throughout your belly as you wrapped your lips around his digits and suck on them. He grins as he presses them against your tongue a little, before the wet muscle swirls around his fingers for a few seconds.

He’s quick to restract his fingers out of your mouth and move his hand under the blanket again, slipping into your shorts and panties once more. He raises an eyebrow as he glides his fingers down your slit, opening you up again and feeling you’d grown a little more wet.

The way his fingers were exploring you so shamelessly yet so sneakily in the enclosed space of the family car had your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from growing wetter and wetter.

You were aware of how wrong this was, yet you did absolutely nothing to stop it. And neither did Elvis – if anything, he seems to be enjoying himself thoroughly.

“You like this?” He whispers as he looks at you, grinning smugly at the way you’re trying to keep your face neutral, lips pressed firmly into a thin line, brows slightly frowned. “Havin’ your brother feel you up in the backseat?”

You huff out a little sigh of air, trying to clamp your thighs together but every time he feels you’re doing it, he pinches your thigh until his other hand finds home on your left thigh, keeping your legs spread enough for his liking. “You’re n-not.. my.. b-brother..”

He laughs softly, making sure his father doesn’t hear it and tilts his head a little as he looks at you. Without warning, he slips his middle finger inside of your cunt, making you let out a quiet gasp. You clench around him instantly, and he smirks. “I think I am. Nah, I know I am and so do you, honey.”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the pet name and you truly hate yourself for being this weak. For liking this, having his finger push into you knuckle deep.

You couldn’t answer him as he started pumping his digit into you, movements still somewhat restricted because of your shorts. But that didn’t bother nor stop him for a second.

As if your body had a mind on its own, you were pulling your legs up a little, feet pressed against the edge of the seat. Clawing at his arm, not knowing if it was to get him to stop or to just have something to hold onto it. You didn’t know, didn’t know anything anymore as your brain was growing fuzzy.

You weren’t all that experienced when it came to sex – only ever having been felt up by a boy you liked during summer vacation last year and he didn’t exactly put it inside you.

Neither his finger, or his cock.

The only thing that’s ever been inside of you had been your own finger and even your own slender digit had been a stretch, not able to fit fully. You were a virgin and here you were, getting fingered by your brother. Stepbrother, you forcefully reminded yourself.

Your virginity was not something you were planning to tell Elvis about – he’d tease the hell out of you for it. At least, that’s what you thought he would do. Either way, you weren’t going to say anything.

His finger stretching you open wider than you’d experienced before was just something you were going to soldier yourself through.

“So goddamn tight,” Elvis grunted lowly next to you, allowing you to hide your face in his chest a little, making it seem as if you were catching up on some sleep. “Think ya can take ‘nother finger?”

No. Definitely not.

“Y-Yes..” You muffle in his chest, biting down on the fabric of his shirt as he shoves his ring finger inside of you as well, making your eyes roll back.

God, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. Allowing this to happen. If Vernon decided to look through the rearview mirror or your mother woke up, the both of you would be disowned.

Surely.

You didn’t have much time to worry about it though, because the slight sting of Elvis’ fingers stretching you out has you softly panting in his chest. You were clenching around him visciously so and it has him cursing under his breath.

Neither of you were paying attention to anything else, but as the car pulled up into a parking lot just as the sting was disappearing and you were relaxing a little more around Elvis’ fingers, the two of you were rudely interrupted by a neon light shining into the car as Vernon parked under it.

Elvis moves quick – pulling his fingers out of you and out of your clothing, he creates more space between the two of you and gives you most of the blanket to cover yourself with. He looks at you as he smirks, bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck your slick off of the digits, shooting you a wink as Vernon announces this is the motel they’d be staying at for the night.

If your cheeks weren’t flushed already, they deepened in shade even further and the image of him licking his fingers clean stayed imprinted on your brain as you got out of the car and your parents booked the rooms.

As if God was playing an awful joke on you, Vernon and your mother decided you and Elvis could share a hotel room together.

“To bond. I’m sick of you two fighting.”

Those had been your mother’s exact words – if only she knew what had happened between the two of you when she was sleeping in the passenger seat.

You should’ve known that being alone in a motel room with your stepbrother wasn’t going grant you the privilege of sleep.

Having never seen a cock in your life, other than from seeing it in pictures and getting a general description of it from your girlfriends, you had nothing to compare it to.

But the one that belonged to Elvis was pretty.

Big too, which scared the hell out of you, but you figured as long as you’d keep playing with it with your hands and mouth, he wouldn’t be in a rush to take things a step further.

Laying completely naked on your stomach in between Elvis’ legs, because he’d pretty much tore your clothes off of you as soon as the door closed behind you, your little jerk off session was interrupted by his own hand wrapping around his girth. He looks down at you with a little smirk on his face, guiding his tip across your lips.

You were nervous and turned on at the same time. Nervous because you were afraid you weren’t going to be good at this, but your lips parted nonetheless. Looking up at him, you liked seeing his reaction when your tongue hesitantly licked at the soft skin of his tip when he pulled his foreskin down – gasping softly, his eyes fluttering shut.

He keeps his hand wrapped around himself until you wrap your lips around his tip, frowning a little at the foreign taste of his precum on your tongue but you forced yourself to continue. You squeezed your eyes shut as you concetrated on the task of taking him in deeper, immediately gagging as he took his hand away and you felt his tip caressing the back of your throat.

As soon as you went to pull back, he placed a hand on the back of your head and looks down at you with a teasing, nearly mean, chuckle when he saw your eyes shooting open and widening. “Keep goin’, sis.”

You whine around his cock as his fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you right where you were, and your throat spasms frantically as he keeps you pushed down, not allowing you to move. Tears blurred your vision as they formed on your lash line, unable to stop yourself from gagging.

You couldn’t breathe.

He was choking you with his cock.

Panic settles in your chest and you place your hands on his thighs, trying to push yourself off and create distance, but his grip was stronger. And he wasn’t letting up.

“Breathe,” he cooes, his voice sounding sickeningly sweet but you didn’t miss the taunting tone in it. “Through y’er little nose. Breathe.”

You try to do as he says and he watches you struggle for a little while, the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks and your flushed cheeks making his cock twitch on your tongue. But he decides to go at least a little easy on you and tugs on your hair, pulling you off of his cock.

You immediately gasp desperately for air, a string of saliva connected from your tongue to his cock. You looked at him through the tears, your head tilted back because he was still tugging on your hair.

“Look at that, droolin’ all over my cock.” He smirks as he watches you lick your glistening, swollen lips.

You were even more wet than you were in the car. So damn wet. Rubbing your thighs together to create some kind of friction, you barely recognized yourself as you realised you were actually liking this.

“A-Again..”

“Again?” Elvis raises an eyebrow, letting out a laugh. You nodded, not caring about how eager you seemed.

He slowly lets go of your hair and with a shit eating grin on his face, he puts his arms under his head and gets comfortable against the pillows. “Be my guest.”

It was truly pathetic how fast you’d taken his cock back in your mouth, slobbering all over it like a bitch in heat. But you were so horny that you couldn’t get yourself to stop, even if you wanted to.

This time, you were deepthroating him on your own. Taking him in so deep that your nose was pressed into his pubes, cockhead assaulting the back of your throat. The whole time you practiced breathing through your nose but you failed at times because the way Elvis was grunting and groaning had you moaning around him, which forced you to have to pull up again to get in a breath of air.

Elvis wasn’t complaining. Far from it.

He had you right where he wanted to have you for the longest time now. The whole annoying brother act was just because he’d wanted to fuck the hell out of you from the second he laid eyes on you. The fact that you were his family now sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him.

Even though you were surprisingly enjoying yourself sucking him off, practicing your skills, Elvis had you pinned down on the bed before he’d cum down your throat. Something he did not want, because he was planning on filling you up in other ways.

Him sliding his cock through your folds, spreading your slick around and rubbing his tip against your clit had you moaning and whimpering – but as soon as you felt him lingering at your entrance, the nerves were flooding back.

Placing a hand on his chest, you tried to close your legs but it was impossible because he was right there in between them, preventing you from doing so. You widened your eyes as you shook your head, writhing underneath him a little, your untouched hole clenching nearly shut as he tries to push himself in.

“N-No, no, Elvis. ’S Not gonna fit..”

“It will.”

“It’s t-too b-big..”

“Jesus,” he huffs out, grabbing your wrist and peeling your hand off of his chest. He put both your hands above your head and trapped your wrists together with his hand, his other hand moving in between your bodies to guide himself back to your entrance. “I will make it fit. Now shut the fuck up and let me in.”

You try to free your hands out of his grip, but it’s useless. He’s too strong.

Tears form in your eyes all over again as you whimper, breathing erratically as he pushes the tip inside of you. Even that was already stretching you further open, and you're clenching so hard that you were pushing him out again.

Elvis groaned in annoyance, moody eyes shooting you a a warning glare. “Goddamnit, Y/N. Relax.”

“I can’t! I c-can’t!”

“Fine,” he growls as he places his hand on your hip, forcing you to keep still as he roughly pushes fully into you. “Then don’t.”

A sharp pain shot through your body, making you cry out in panic. Despite the fact that you were absolutely soaking, the stretch was unbearable.

“I’ve never.. I’m not.. Never have-“

“Never been fucked before? I know.” He growls deeply as he bottoms out, holding still. At least he was granting you that. “But you’ll like it, baby, believe me.”

You were naive. Stupid, even. Because even though you felt like he was painfully splitting you open right now, you truly did believe him.

It was going to feel better. It had to.

Still holding onto your hands because he didn’t quite trust you enough to know you wouldn’t push him off, he pulled back a little only to slam into you again. He growls a little louder as he feels more wetness engulfing him, slipping out of you and onto him.

As he looks down, he notices a little bit of blood on his cock when he pulls back again. He smirks as he sees you looking down too, his eyes meeting yours. “I popped y’er little cherry,” he hums as he leans his face closer to yours, lips ghosting along yours. “You know what that means, sis?”

Cheeks flushed in embarrassement for bleeding on him, you whimper softly as you stare into his eyes with your own teary ones, finding yourself chasing his lips, wanting to kiss him but he wasn’t giving it to you yet.

“You’re mine now.”

The way he whispers those words against your lips has you letting out a soft sob, crying as he kisses you feverishly.

He starts thrusting into you, hard enough for his balls to slap against your skin every time his hips snap forward, but not hard enough for him to cum yet. Because you were tight, so incredibly snug, he had to force himself to not fill you up prematurely.

He wanted to enjoy it for a little longer.

Letting go of your wrists and hip, he places his hand flat on either side of your head and breaks the kiss, looking down at you as he rams you into the mattress. The headboard was slamming against the wall, probably alerting your parents in the next room to what was happening but he was too far gone.

And so were you.

All you could think about was Elvis and how he was railing you into tomorrow, drunk on his cock.

The sting was still there, but the intensity was wearing off, making way for pleasure.

Pure, raw pleasure.

Heat overwhelmed you, an unfamiliar feeling coiling in the pit of your tummy and you knew enough of your friends’ stories that your orgasm was nearing.

“Elvis!” You moaned out loudly, your nails running down his back, clinging onto him. “I’m g-gonna cum!”

It felt strange saying those words, but your brain was too cloudy to think or worry about it.

“Fuck. Me too, baby,” he growls as he presses his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes. “Gonna fuckin’ fill you up until you feel it all the way in your tummy.”

You had no idea if that was even possible, but it sounded hot.

You wanted it.

Wanted all of him.

With your spread legs in the air, your toes curl as your nails dig into his shoulder blades. Your back arched and Elvis’ hips stuttered, both of you exploding at the same time.

You milked him for all he’s worth and he paints your insides white, thick strings of warm cum filling you up to the brim. A weird sensation spread throughout your stomach and you wondered if it was because of what he said.

He collapses on top of you with his face hiding in your neck, panting heavily against your skin. You could feel his cum spilling out of you as he pulls his softening cock out and you whimper, shivering underneath him because of your first orgasm you’ve just experienced.

“N-Need to p-pee.” You whisper in a shaky voice, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

He rolls off of you but instead of letting you get up, he wraps his arm around your waist and spoons you. His hand moves in between your legs, cupping your sensitive pussy. “No,” he simply tells you, grinning as he softly bites your shoulder, moving his other arm underneath your head and wrapping it around your throat without too much pressure, pressing your back against his chest firmly. “Keep it inside ‘f ya for a little longer. Don’t be ungrateful, baby.”

You squirm against him a little and gasp as he shoves two fingers inside of your cunt, pushing his cum deeper inside of you and keeping it there.

He was right. Spilling the load he’d worked so hard to release right away would be ungrateful… and that’s something that you weren’t.

You were a good girl, a good daughter.

And a perfect sister to fuck.

⊱ taglist: @notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @peaceloveelvis @ccab @jkdaddy01 @atrophyingaphrodite @ladelinee

#elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley smut #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #stepbrother!elvis #elvis #elvis presley #tamwrites #tamsdove #elvis x fanfic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n

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be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

Let Yourself Go

Overstimulated Reader! Request.

my darling, what a dream request - thank you anon! for both your very kind words + excellent request!!! this has consumed my brain for the past week; I originally intended it to be short like 2.5-3k, and then it turned into 4k and then I realised that in all of those words elvis had only been treated once so it turned into 6k. so this is 6.7k of pure, absolute, filthy smut just for you that i really hope lives up your expectations!

summary: slightly innocent!reader is convinced girls can't really orgasm - elvis sets out to teach her how wrong she is.

pairing: afab!reader/elvis (big daddy e)

warnings: 18+, 18+, 18+, tiny bit of daddy kink, implied age difference, oral (p+v receiving), p in v sex, fingering, mirror sex, overstimulation, very brief spanking. I think that's it? Reader does attempt to stop the proceedings a couple of times and elvis doesn't stop but it is all consensual.

wc: 6.7k

suggested listening: the end of such a night + of course, let yourself go.

You’ve not been together very long and you were still learning about each other in many ways. It confused you a little that he, who you knew had girls throwing themselves at him, would take the time to bother to get to know you better. He’d picked you out of the crowd and put you on his lap in his dressing room before he’d even learnt your name. When you’d told him, earnestly, that you didn’t expect to be married or anything but you were a good girl, who wouldn’t sleep around, you’d expected him to tell you that he wasn’t going to see you again. But no, he’d put in the effort and here you were, a few weeks later, at Graceland of all places. You’d been brought back with him after his engagement at the International ended for this year, allowing him a short break before he resumed touring.

He’d taken you out on his bike earlier, showing you the sights of Memphis and you’d loved the rush, so unlike anything you’d experienced before. Despite the fact that you dreaded the call from your parents at the photos that would inevitably be published of the two of you - you hadn’t really been dressed to go out (the outing unexpected), nor had you been able to help snuggling into his back, your hand resting on his solid thigh at the lights. When you’d gotten back to the estate you’d expected a party - a celebration of his homecoming, and you’d been bracing to have to deal with losing him for the evening, but you’d been pleasantly shocked when he’d kicked everyone out after dinner, announcing that he wanted a night just the two of you.

You wanted to tell him that his expectations were a bit forward, to not get his hopes and that you still weren’t sure you were quite ready to have actual sex with him but in all honesty, you were ready and only your (perhaps misguided) morals had prevented you thus far. You had been slightly surprised at how unbothered he had seemed at the concept of sex - he’d laughed you off when you’d told him you didn’t want to sleep with him on the first night; telling you that was all very well but would you sleep with him because he couldn’t “bear the long nights all on my lonesome”. He hadn’t pressured you at all, less than your last boyfriend for sure, and seemed to genuinely enjoy your makeout sessions as much as you do. To tell the truth, you weren’t really sure why anyone was that bothered by sex - it felt fine sure, but it didn’t blow your world apart, was mostly very awkward, and you couldn’t understand what the fuss was in general.

You’d followed him into the bedroom, into his room, and while part of you wanted to inspect every little detail of this hidden, protected space, the other part of you could feel his impatience from the bed and when he smiles at you - all cheeks and teeth, asking;

“Wanna have some fun tonight darlin’? Cleared the place out for ya, didn’t want you to go all shy on me…some girls get nervy at the number of people in the place. Get real quiet and the like, even though I tell ‘em I got the sound locked down.” You forget any desire to rifle through his drawers and instead stare at him, slightly confused - just hoping he’s not going to be disappointed;

“Uh, oh, well, I can’t say I’m that loud anyways, always, I always thought that was just a thing girls, uh, exaggerated?” You look down, embarrassed that you may be having to burst his bubble - you don’t want to be the first to tell him that from what you know there’s nothing to be shouting about. But he doesn’t react in the way you expect - blinking at you from under his glasses and patting the bed next to him.

“C’mere doll, tell daddy what you mean.” You sit where he tells you to, tiny shorts hiking even further, and you curl your legs up underneath yourself.

“I don’t, sorry, I don’t understand what you’re asking? I’m just, just, saying that I never understood what those girls on the … on the … the stuff you like to watch, what they’re shouting about is all. Never seemed like anything worth carrying on like that is all.” He’s a little shocked but not altogether surprised - you’re young and a little sheltered, perhaps more than he thought at your reluctance to even said the word ‘pornography’ and he knows your only other relationships have been serious with boys from home, less about fun and more about futures, and he knows that they don’t always put the effort in they should. Still, he needs clarification - his eyes burning with curiosity;

“You mean you ain’t ever .. got your rocks off? Never creamed those lil’ shorts of yours?” His thick hand finds its way onto your thigh and he flicks the hem of your shorts, practically between your legs. You giggle, pushing his hand off.

“Elvis. Don’t be silly, unless you’ve been with some funny sorta people - girls can’t do that! That’s… I might not know much but I do know that.” He looks back at you, utterly stunned, before smiling like all his Christmases have come at once, a full cheshire cat grin.

“You - you ain’t never?” He’s shocked, but desperate to know your answer, taking his glasses off, leaning closer and waiting with practically bated breath in excitement, clenching his hands on his thighs.

“I just told you E, that’s not something girls can actually do. Don’t you think I’d know! If you’re just gonna tease me I swear I’m gonna walk right out of here!” He laughs again at your indignation, shaking his head,

“Naw little one, don’t do that, don’t do that - I just uh, I think I might be able to teach you a few things tonight is all. Just, ah, need to re-evaluate some things’all.” He frowns, “You know the other day, baby, when I stroked your little pussy and you pushed me off - told me you were all done?”

You remember the incident he was talking about, He’d had his fingers up you, rubbing you exactly how you needed and you’d crunched with an involuntary shudder, couldn’t quite catch your breath properly and had told him to stop. You’d pushed him away in a panic that you didn’t know what was coming, but that that was certainly enough. He’d been a little worried then, worried that he’d pushed you into something you hadn’t wanted to do. But, he’d relaxed when you’d relaxed on the bed - he wasn’t happy with leaving you like that, on the edge, but he’d figured you were just shy, nervous that his entourage was a mere wall away. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him that you genuinely believed that was you finished.

“Yeah, but what about it? We were done - I was done, it was starting to make me feel weird. I actually think we went too far.” He lets out a pure incredulous laugh, shaking his head.

“Oh baby, baby. I’m gonna, I’ll teach you baby, it’ll be ok.” You nod, but you’re honestly a bit confused about what he’s even planning on teaching you, but you don’t want to tell him he’s wrong again. You suppose he does have quite the reputation, so maybe he does have some things to show you, you doubt it somewhat but keep that to yourself.

“Right, yittle, need these all off of ya,” He tugs at your shirt, starting to unbutton it. “and these, these slutty little shorts need to come off, lemme see what I’m working with.” He’s practically crooning at you, slipping your shirt off gently, divesting you off your shorts - undressing you as if you were a babe. He strips you of your bra, leaving you in little white panties, before pushing you back onto the bed to lie flat. He doesn’t give you time to worry about your nudity, cupping your cheek with one thick hand, leaning over you to kiss you.

His tongue slips in, it’s like he’s mapping your mouth and you don’t bother to fight for dominance, letting him in, submissively brushing your tongue against his. He pulls away slightly, grabbing a breath and you can’t help it, his pouty perfect lips too tempting, you surge forward to softly suck on his bottom lip, nibbling gently. He responds in kind, pulling your head back, baring your neck - he tugs your lip between his teeth pulling as he pulls away. You moan at the little sting, and he presses a soothing peck against it. Before trailing down and pressing little open-mouthed kisses at your cheek, mouthing at your neck - tiny little suctioning touches until his hand, which he’s not resting on, is trailing further down. His fingers spread across a breast, fingertips playing with your nipple. You can feel the heat coiling in your tummy - your throbbing heartbeat between your legs. He’s pressing little kisses down your soft stomach, and he grunts as he repositions himself - up on his knees slightly. It worries you briefly, he’s been using a cane as more than just an accessory more frequently lately - his youthful actions having been hard on his knees and legs, before your mind is wiped by his actions again.

His hand trails lower, even as he continues to press soft kisses on your stomach, and he swipes down in a languid stroke over your panties, feeling your pooling wetness through the forming damp spot. He pushes it into you, rubbing you over them - the fabric catching slightly, along with your breath. He moves his head back up, sucking you by your collarbone and on your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise. The noises coming out of your mouth are unlike how you’ve ever heard yourself before, and as he hooks his fingers into your panties, pulling them down and off - the dampness making them pretty much see through - you would normally cringe in embarrassment but as you watch him lift them to his mouth and suck on them you can’t do anything but stare in an absolute state of shock and arousal. He’s still fully dressed although his shirt is so lowly unbuttoned, his chest with its covering of hair, god even his nipples practically out, that it barely counts. You can feel his own arousal growing against your side, still confined in his tight, slightly flared, trousers the heat of it, and can’t help but wiggle against him. He folds your panties, scrunching them up, before shifting to push them into his trouser pocket. You gape at him,

“Good lord, you can’t - they’re so dirty Elvis - you can’t keep them. They need to be washed!” He smirks at you, smirk turning to a grin as he leans over you to whisper in your ear, moving his hand away from you as he does.

“Baby, when they taste that good, I’ll do what I damn well like.” He licks your cheek, and it's something that you would have found disgusting from anyone else, but somehow him doing it makes your heartbeat pulse in your core. He lets his hand come back down, lightly slapping against your pussy, you jolt forward, mouth falling open, and eyes rolling slightly at the sudden intense pleasure from it. He chuckles into your ear, tickling your neck, “Oh - you like that mama? Like that baby?” He does it again, and you’re horrified at the wet slapping noise - but also at the sudden surge of wetness, you can feel.

“Oh god, Elvis, you gotta - gotta do that again. Please.” He obliges, patting you once, twice, three times before letting his hand fly slightly harder, you can feel your heat rising - and you shiver slightly. You’ve reached the peak of where you’d been before. Your heartbeat fast, and a constant thrumming at your centre. He laughs, teasing you in a low tone,

“God, who’d have thought you’d be such a dirty fucking girl, letting me - begging me to spank that yittle cunt of yours.” He puts an inflection onto yittle, as if even when talking about your ‘cunt’ he’s unable to stop his penchant for baby talk.

He uses his fingers to spread you apart, middle finger sliding in your slick. The metal of his ring is cold against your burning skin, sending goosebumps down your flesh. You think he can’t make you feel any better when he slips two of his fingers inside you. His huge square ring catching on your entrance for a moment and you buck your hips as he slides it in. He pumps them, in and out, as you squirm on the bed. Your eyes fall closed for a moment and he whispers to you,

“You like that little? My fingers in you? Gonna show you how girls do it, teach ya how it goes.” You respond with a whine - his words causing a blush to travel from your chest. You’re simultaneously embarrassed at needing to be taught something about your own adult self and aggressively turned on by his narration.

You’re breathless and while he’s looking at you with a soft smile on his face - pure concentration in his burning eyes, you can’t help but wonder what he’s getting from all of this attention on you. But to be the centre of his focus, him looking at you like you’re the whole world - the only thing in the world, is another level of high. Behind him you can yourself reflected in the mirror above - you look fucking debauched, unlike yourself and seeing him from above, in all his iconic glory, reminding you this is Elvis fixated on you brings you even closer to the cliff edge.

He pushes into you, unnecessarily - his fingers were long enough he could reach with his thumb without having to strain at all - to reach your hooded clit. He finds it expertly, rubbing it just so. You shudder, and he keeps going just as he was, but kisses down your neck to your nipple again, swirling it in his mouth, pulling it with his teeth slightly and you can feel yourself about to fall. You panic at the unexpected and unknown feeling and try to throw him off,

“Elvis! Elvis stop - stop I can’t - I can’t do it, it’s too much - you gotta, you gotta st-“ You’re thrashing about the place, arms flailing as you try to push him away, but his fingers don’t stop and he hushes you as he’s suddenly stroking this little spot inside of you. You can feel it’s different but can’t quite tell how until he crooks his fingers and presses. You shudder, your mouth falling open, although you’re still far quieter than he’d like - he makes a mental note that his aim tonight is to make you scream. And then you’re shaking, convulsing on his hand - stomach and core muscles clenching of their own accord. He rubs and strokes you through it. Your mind is blank and all you can feel is your thighs shaking - your head rolling from side to side. He keeps going and you keep going for him, clutching the covers in tight fists, mouth open in a silent scream as one of your legs randomly seems to jump about. He can tell you’re at the end of what you can do for him at the moment. He softlypulls his fingers out, trying to bring you down gently. His fingers leaving feather-light touches across your mound and thighs.

“That good, baby?” He pats his sticky, wet hand on your tummy and you can’t speak, taking heaving breaths.

“W-was,” You’re slurring as you come back to, your ears ringing, “Is that, what I’ve been missing? Is that meant to happen?” He laughs at you, finger drawing little shapes on your stomach,

“Yeah, when you’re with someone who knows what they’re doing.” He puffs his chest out a little, clearly proud of himself, “A real man.” You laugh, and he kisses you again and again until your lips are swollen and bitten raw and you’re gasping for air. You lay back for a few more moments, looking up at him leaning over you. He moves his arm, and you’re not quite sure what comes over you, but the movement had spread his shirt even more and it’s not something you’d ever considered doing ever before, but he did do it to you earlier so you gain the courage to ask;

“El- can I, can I…please can I taste you?” He raises a brow at your polite request, but is not going to turn down such an offer,

“Sure baby, lemme get lil’ Elvie out now - “ You frown, interrupting him.

“No, no… can I just… like you did earlier?” He looks slightly confused, his brow furrowed, but he agrees nonchalantly - clearly used to letting whoever do whatever they like with his body.

“Sure - “ He starts to say something else, but you’re too distracted by the permission, rushing forward to kiss his chest, moving down to capture his nipple. He jerks,

“Christ - Oh lord,” You’re practically suckling him, one hand threading through his chest hair, feeling his stomach, the hard line where he’s definitely still muscular somewhere underneath but is soft and cushy above, grasping at his pillowy sides. His hips are bucking, circling with the effort not to throw you off accidentally, “Oh gods, baby, christ little one, lord, oh lord.” He’s unable to be silent, constantly babbling a stream of curses and praise. You pull off, and suddenly, you’re mortified.

“Oh my goodness, Oh, Elvis, I - uh, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” You’re shocked at yourself but he’s panting, and you can feel him straining against his pants.

“Oh darlin’, lord, darlin’ it’sss ok, it’s so good, so good baby. Love your lil’ mouth on me.” You smile a little bashfully as he pats at you as if praising a dog. “Think now little Elvis would too baby, get him out - show him how much you ‘preciate him too?” You pant back at him nodding your agreement. He’s resting further up on the bed than he was before, you’d both travelled around the last few minutes and he sits to take his shirt fully off, before unbuttoning his trousers finally and wriggling out of them. He shuffles further back and you get yourself situated between his legs, bracketed by his thick thighs on either side of you, their covering of downy hair tickling your sides. You lean down, gently stroking his hardening cock - but then pause,

“Elvis, I ain’t ever - you gotta tell me how to do it.” He groans, his head falling back,

“Goddamn, like you were made for me, fucking made for me honey,” he peers down at you, over the slight swell of his stomach, tucking his chin in - one of his meaty fingers stroked the side of your face before gently grasping your head, lowering it to his cock. “You gotta, gotta say hello little one, give ‘im a little hello kiss now - “ You do as he says, brushing your lips against the very tip. You’d seen it briefly before, so although not this close, and you had given him a … helping hand over the past few weeks so you’re not surprised to see he’s uncut nor at the size of him - generous in length and girth, but it’s still fascinating to you up close. You can't help but study it briefly - assessing how his foreskin is starting to retract back slightly and you absentmindedly reach for it, gently rolling it forward and back a little bit, unsure how far it should go. His hips jerk,

“Christ, baby, you gotta warn a man first.” You smile, meeting his blazing blue eyes and amused expression.

“Sorry - I thought me being here was warning enough.” He laughs and pats your cheek.

“Right little one, back to work. Kiss down little Elvis, let him know how much you wanted to see him - ‘ You obey his orders, pressing little kisses all the way down his shaft. “Ok, now doll you're gonna take him in that hot little mouth of yours - gonna be re-eal careful of your sharp little teeth, got it?” You obediently bob up and down in a nod, making sure not to scrape him.

Instinct seems to kick in and you take a moment to suck down on him, flattening your tongue against his underside. His other hand finds its way into your hair accompanying the one still resting on your cheek and neck, hand spanning across the distance. His hip jerks forward and it causes his dick to knock further back than you were expecting and you pull back with a little cough.

“S’ok baby, sorry, felt so good, couldn't help myself, not gonna make you take all of him tonight, you can use your hand go on, show the rest of him how much you love him.” He pats you again and it’s enough encouragement for you to go back down on him. You do as he suggested, stroking and pulling him with your hand where your mouth can't comfortably reach, growing bold enough to reach down and delicately hold and stroke his balls. His hands are insistent on your head, not forcing you but certainly moving you exactly how he wants you. You can taste the thin salty trickle of precum starting to dribble out of him.

“That’s it, baby, I was already so close, just from touchin’ ya honey, just gotta suck me just like that, that’s it like a damn popsicle.” His hands grow a little rougher, tugging on your hair slightly, as his hips circle and his thighs clench around you. “Gonna, you gonna stroke me now, yittle, you just gonna stroke me, I’ll let you have a taste, give you a treat but that’s enough for now - ’s about you tonight, about you honey.” He's babbling now, and you're not paying much attention to his words coming out of his mouth except when his request filters through to your brain, and you pull off with a little wet pop, stroking him to completion. He squirts over your hand - ribbons of white hitting you on the chin and chest, moaning as he does and his eyes falling closed.

He leans back, breathing heavily as his cock finishes jumping about, slowly softening before your eyes and you glance around, before grabbing his discarded shirt to wipe your hand on. Before you can raise it to your chin to wipe it off of there he sits up and moves his hand from your face to swipe a finger through it. “C’mon baby, gonna have you swallow it next time,” You're uncertain about this, but don’t bother to say anything right now as he rubs his fingers on your lips, “Go on, open up honey, have a taste for me. Lick it clean.” You do as he commands, tasting the salty tang of a man’s cum for the first time. It's not wholly unpleasant, although you're not sure about the texture, but you can’t say you'd be jumping for joy at the prospect of swallowing his full load. He watches as you suck his fingers, licking them completely clean looking up at him under your lashes as you do.

He leans forward to kiss you but then suddenly grimaces, frowning. Twisting slightly in an attempt to relieve some of the tension from his hips and back.

“I’m sorry, honey, but I gotta- I gotta lie down again.” You frown, worried.

“Of course! don’t - you’re meant to be relaxing!” He’s proven himself to you - taught you that there was something on the other side of the cliff edge and it was good. But you weren’t worried - didn’t see any reason to continue, you’d both been taken care of and you were now perfectly happy to be tucked up in bed for the night.

“Oh no, I don’t mean I’m done. Get over here, little girl…” He manhandles you, ringed fingers digging into your thighs as he arranges you over the top of him. He then lies down, sliding between your legs, before huffing a tiny bit as he heaves you up from his chest and down onto him. “That’s it, mama, right over my face. Lemme get to that poor little kitty of yours.” You’re confused as to what he’s going to be able to achieve from this angle - he can’t possibly just want such a closer look, can he? But then, without warning, he pushes his head up licking down your labia before pulling you off balance to literally sit on his face.

“Woah - Oh, Elvis I’m gonna hurt you like this, I can’t just - I’m too heavy!” You try to move away but you can’t escape from his tight grip.

“Ain’t gonna hurt a fly baby - lemme just.” And he pushes his tongue into you, spearing into your hole. You’re sopping wet already, his fingers having seen to that, and the noises are obscene - the wet smacking and sucking.

“Elv-oh my god, Elvis you can’t-“ You try to get off but his hands don’t let you move at all - pinning you onto him. But as you struggle your thighs touch and you can feel the wetness and the stickiness that’s spread throughout - tangling your curls, sticking your thighs. “It’s- it’s - it’s dirty, you can’t, you shouldn’t - that shouldn’t, you’re not meant to do that.” You can feel him chuckle, the vibration making you gasp, but he doesn’t even respond, simply holds you down and goes harder.

You’re supporting most of your weight on your own legs but every time you clench or move you can feel his fingers digging tighter in - sure you’ll have bruises where his rings and fingertips have been. You can’t help but move, grinding onto his mouth. It’s outrageous and you can’t believe this is something people do, but now it’s happening you wonder how you’ve lived this long without it, without knowing how this feels. His tongue is flicking between lapping at your hole and your inner folds. Your hips circle and one of his hands comes around your thigh - curling around to join his mouth. He moves his mouth up to suck on your clit, and the warm wet pressure, the suction, the everything - it’s too much. You’re losing control again, fighting the panic for a second time that evening - but this time, the pressure is growing even stronger and though you recognise the feeling now it feels different.

“Oh my god, Elvis, god, Elvis, Elvis please, please, you gotta stop! I’m gonna-” You grind your hips again, but he must be able to hear the sudden change in your tone - the sudden, very real, panic. And despite his instinct telling him not to he worries it’ll make you lose your relaxed state and he pulls away, kissing your inner thigh,

“Relax baby, dontcha worry, oh my poor baby’s little neglected pussy - you’ve got no idea, just been waiting for a real man, for daddy, to show you what you’ve been missin’ all this time.” He croons into you, hands stroking your thighs, soothing you into compliance. As soon as you relax into his hold again he surges forward once more. Your folds are swollen and slick, feeling like they’re burning, you feel so hot. And your entire focus is on your cunt and Elvis. Unable to even think about your thigh cramping or your foot falling asleep. He kisses up you, capturing your little puffy clit in his lips again and sucks hard. You think you might be about to pass out - it feels so overwhelming, but suddenly the pressure changes - and as he slips a finger back inside you it starts to feel a little too similar to something else.

Your panicked noises come back out, and you once again are begging Elvis to stop warning him; “I think I’m gonna pee, Elvis, seriously! I can’t - I can’t hold it! Elvis - daddy, fuck, I can’t, I seriously think I’m gonna - gonna pee.” But he doesn’t stop this time, not even to reassure you, just continuing his steady ministrations, speeding up, and the pressure is steadily mounting again, reaching the peak. Your orgasm rips through you and you have to throw your hands out to support yourself on the headboard to simply stay upright but you’re barely able to think about it, moving on instinct alone. You’re shuddering and he’s continuing, won’t leave you be. And then, the pressure seems to burst - slowly yet somehow quicker than anything you’re ever felt. It’s like your vagina is simultaneously your whole body and also entirely separate from your body as it clenches before you’re gushing, liquid shooting out of you. It drenches his face, it’s in his hair, in his sideburns, and he sits up, as you fall off of him to one side, and he’s glistening.

You’re in a daze but a little embarrassed, both at him covered in your juices and that he was right and you were wrong about your abilities. But his reaction makes you second guess your immediate response - he’s grinning, licking his goddamn lips like he’s just eaten the best-tasting dessert of his life. He uses one of your discarded shirts to wipe his face off, smiling at the damp patches it causes.

“There we are baby, Daddy got’cha there, got you to that special place - that’s what it’s meant to be like darling. Told you didn’t I, told you, you just gotta listen to me, let yourself go.”

You lay back panting - you’re a little sore and a lot tired and you’re sure you’re done. You can feel his cock hardening against you again in a gentle coaxing sort of way, and you reach over a hand. You can do this, but you’ve just not got the energy for anything else - and your pussy is still pulsing, soft and swollen and puffy. He bats your hand away though,

“Right, mama, gonna show you how it’s really done, you’re gonna reach your little o on my cock, and you’re gonna know that’s how it should be every time.” He kneels up on the bed, pulling you up onto your knees too, and he’s putting you exactly where he wants you. You want to refuse, but he’s so convincing, and you are a little curious at how he might be able to make even this so spectacular for you, an act that you’d been ambivalent about, mostly put up with; knowing it was something women just did to keep their partners happy. He manhandles you into the perfect position for him, your back slightly arched, hands clutching the top of the headboard and he brushes your sweaty hair off of your neck, kissing where it lay before.

You stay where he puts you, slightly shell-shocked at your easy compliance, and at what he’s suggesting. You glance up from under your lashes and notice the huge mirror above the bed - you’d seen the one above yourself in the bed but not the glass above the headboard - and can see how you look. You watch your face contort slightly as he presses a few of his fingers into you again, testing if you’re ready. But you’re loose, in a novel sort of way - so aroused that it’s easy in a way it’s never been before. You’re studying your fucked out face, shocked at how wide your pupils are, the redness of your lips and cheeks, before you turn your attention to Elvis watching his rosy reflection - his hair sticking down, body and chest shimmering with sweat, clinging to his chest hair, his plush lips bitten red and his face still with a hint of damp, blue eyes sparkling. You’re about to utter something completely embarrassing like, “Oh my god, you’re so pretty,” or “I love you.” But you’re (somewhat thankfully) distracted by him rubbing himself on you a couple of times before fucking into you. You jolt forward, mouth falling open as he simply pushes his whole length in, immediately pulling back out to shutter his hips forward again - gripping your waist and pulling you back onto him too. You’re shouting, finally, garbled noises and moans as he gives you no time to adjust and instead slams you back and forth to him, his balls slapping against your wet skin.

He spanks your ass and you shudder, the tinge of pain mixed with the pleasure of him hitting that spot in you, getting in so deep you feel like he’s in your soul and not just your body. You can feel yourself starting to go again, starting to ride the crest of that wave when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again and you can barely breathe, noises catching in your throat at the sight.

“That’s it sweet, that’s it sugar, look at yourself,” He wraps an arm over your chest and grips your chin, pointing it straight at the mirror, “Look at us honey.” You can see him behind you, behind your flushed body - himself pink and damp with sweat from the exertion, its practically dripping down his forehead and onto his chest - he lets go of your chin and moves one hand to fondle your breasts, pinching your nipples, the other to slip between your legs. You jerk when he strokes where the two of you are joined. It’s filthy. You’ve never been this visible like this before, having very much been under the covers with previous lovers, and your knowledge of positions was limited to on your back, on your front and your side. Very much lying down. The image of his cock sliding into your folds, the pink fuzzy base barely visible through your own fuzz and his hand splayed over your stomach as if supporting where he sits internally is filthy in the best possible way.

You feel utterly surrounded by him, you can’t think of anything but how he feels, how he looks, you can’t sense anything else. You can’t see anything but him, it’s all him as you look around - the mirrors on the back wall and above you reflect back the image of the two of you, but your eyes skip over yourself only seeing him. His thick form. He’s muscular in a solid way, an accidental way, and the layer of softness that covers all of him, but especially over his tummy, only makes him more attractive to you, more real. When you close your eyes the vision of him is imprinted on your eyelids, and all you can smell is him. He’s got a slight sweaty musk to him from the exertion and activity, but under it you can still smell the hint of his cologne. His sheets smell aggressively like him, like the Vegas him and the home him - he must use the same products (or his laundry service must) wherever he is. The room too - there’s his unique blend of homely smells but also the heavy scent of the blend of his favourite specific brands of cigarettes and cigars. The smoke, despite him claiming he only smoked very irregularly, clings to his thick curtains and the drapes that surround the room. The room which screams, as much as the rest of his house does, of him - of solely him, of his outrageous, outlandish, tacky, wonderful, style.

You aren’t able to have any of these thoughts though, as his fingers stroke himself before once again finding your clit. He captures it between his fingers, rolling it, before brushing his finger over it and before you know it you’re quivering - shaking as your orgasm overcomes you again. It’s too much, your body has barely had a chance to recover and while you’re not passed out you’re also not…all there. Your body slack as Elvis holds you up, just a rag doll for him to take what he needs for his own orgasm - chasing his completion. He does, barely a few strokes later, a litany of praises spilling out of his mouth, pulling out as quickly as he could, seemingly caught a little by surprise. And you can feel the last few sprays from him as he splatters over your already sticky and trembling body. You slump down without him holding you up by the waist and hips, and he catches you - laying you out on the bed. He lays next to you, panting, chest heaving for a few moments before propping himself up on an elbow next to you.

You’re sore, internally and externally and worse - sticky, but he doesn’t let you sleep yet, running his cum-covered fingers through your soft pubic hair, before tracing shapes on your lower tummy, gently brushing lower and lower until his fingers are stroking through your sticky soft folds. You squirm, sleepy, and he hushes you,

“C’mon baby doll, give me one more, gotta make up for lost time darling. Give em all to you tonight. One more baby, c’mon do it for daddy, give daddy one more.” He’s speaking lowly, so as not to disturb your sleepy state, but what he’s asking you to do is bringing you back to awareness. He’s barely touching you, nudging your little stretched hole with his wet fingers, barely pressing the outer rim before delicately stroking your sore, puffy, clitoris again. You feel your legs shaking, seemingly of their own accord, and can’t focus on anything he says, resorting to begging over top of his continued whispers;

“I can’t, I can’t, Elvis please, daddy, please, it’s too much, I can’t,” but you’re already so close to the edge that you gasp, mouth open, as he inserts his fingers again, and it only takes him crooking them just so for you to shudder and scream. It’s borderline painful, and your legs are shaking, “Lord, daddy! Oh my god, Elvis, daddy, oh my lord. Oh - “ and as he continues to stroke that little place inside of you, as you ride the waves that wash over you, your words trail off to just noises. You're practically yowling as you slump over, still shuddering and stomach still convulsing when he slows his ministrations and pulls his fingers away. Your vision is white and black and you can't focus on anything he's saying through your ringing ears although you're aware he's talking. It takes a few minutes for your body to calm down, Elvis’ large hands gently rubbing you down like a horse after a race, and it's not until your heart rate slows again that you’re able to open your eyes and try to focus on what he's saying.

“Told you didn’t I, you gonna learn to believe your daddy now? Believe what he tells you?” He’s unbelievably smug and you can hear it in his voice, and in the way his eyes crinkle looking down at you.

“Course, Daddy,” You blush, “Elvis. Of course, I just - I just didn’t know! I didn’t know what that was…inside me.” He laughs,

“Well, not everyone can find it doll, it keeps itself real hidden like, less you’re just the right fit.” He squeezes your cheek as he says it before he pats you again and heaves himself up into standing. “Right honey, gonna have to get you all cleaned up - you’ll be drippin’ all night else.” You wince as he wipes at you with a little towel, even his expensive cotton too much abrasion on your still throbbing centre. You roll into the bed, far too exhausted to even stand up, and your eyes are closing as he comes back over with a glass of water, he makes you drink half and you do so, sleepily, while he maintains his grip on the glass. “We’ll have to shower in the morning honey, think you’re fixin’ for a snooze now.” He pulls the top comforter off, throwing it on the floor, and you can just see through your hazy tired gaze that there’s a large wet spot on it. “Least we ain’t gotta change the bed.” He mumbles as he climbs into it. You squirm as he pulls you close against your chest and his hands find their customary positions - one just a little too close to between your thighs but he pets and shushes you, humming a tiny lullaby that makes you fall deep asleep almost immediately.

#elvis smut #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #fic request!!#be-my-ally #big daddy elvis

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from-memphis-with-love · 2 months

Text

Magic Man

Summary: Elvis breaks in a virgin. Word count: ~2,200 words of pure, unadulterated smut inspired by this post. This is purely a work of fiction, and from what I have read of how Elvis actually treated his lovers in real life, is probably a lot less tender and loving than the actual Elvis would have been. But it's make believe and fun, so enjoy it! Warnings: 20 year age gap, dubious consent at some points, full intercourse, course language. Somewhat callous treatment of Elvis' taste for younger women.

His bedroom is a gilded cage, dripping with excess and the stench of hedonism. Elvis's entourage has left them alone, finally, after weeks of teasing glances and knowing winks. Tonight, it’s just him and his prey—sweet little Molly van Patton. All night, she’s tried to resist, but his primal aura is too strong to deny. He’s charming. Dangerous. A seasoned, world-famous rock star. And she's just a 19-year-old innocent, trembling on the edge of womanhood. Just like he likes ‘em.

Their meeting felt like some sort of strange, cosmic joke. She wasn’t a fan, hadn’t even intended to go see his show. But her best friend convinced her, one thing led to another, and now here she is, somehow lying in his colossal bed like a tiny helpless creature, her presence filling him with a burning desire to crush and destroy.

Now, he traces his lips down her neck, pausing to nuzzle at the hollow of her collarbone. Sweetly at first, then more insistently as she drags long, jagged breaths. Molly can’t help but gasp under the full weight of him, her body opening up in ways she’s never experienced before. It’s heady and intoxicating and dangerous and delicious and—

Oh. Oh.

Each touch sets off an electric current, making her arch closer. She runs her fingers through the thick hair on his chest, feeling the cool metal of his gold lion's head medallion pressed against her own breasts. But as he reaches for her waistband, she hesitates.

“Stop,” Molly trembles. Heat flushes her cheeks. "I’m not… I don’t…"

Elvis nuzzles her neck. His hand is dangerously close to unzipping her skirt. He’s in a taking mood tonight.

“Please,” she pleads. “Won’t they know what we’re doing in here?”

Elvis chuckles, a low, deep rumbling sound that vibrates through her very bones. “Baby, they don’t care. They’re probably already placing bets on how long you’ll last.”

Molly's heart plummets into her stomach. Of course they knew. All those knowing glances and hushed whispers, they’d known all along. Her face flushes and it's all she can do to grab her things and run.

But Elvis doesn't give her time to process this newfound knowledge. His insistent lips find her earlobe, nibbling it lightly as he whispers lewd suggestions she can't comprehend but her body understands. Against her better judgment, heat pools between her legs, and she bites back a moan of desire.

"Just one more," Elvis purrs, his voice thick with want, sending shivers down Molly's spine. "One more’n I'll stop.”

But one more turns into two, and then three, and before she knows it, she’s powerless under him. She feebly attempts to push him away, but his strong arms grasp her tighter. His grip is firm but not quite enough to leave bruises. Not yet at least. But she knows it’s coming. Braces for it. His lips find her neck again.

The heat between her thighs grows unbearable, and she clenches them together, as if that could stop the freight train that is Elvis Presley. As if it could cool the fire raging through her veins. She’s never felt so alive, so free, so needed and… so scared, as she does tonight in his arms. But as he inches lower, kiss by agonizing kiss awakening something primal inside her, Molly panics.

This is really happening.

She’s about to give herself to a man she barely knows, a man nearly twenty years her senior. One who could crush her like a fly if he wanted to. Her heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline coursing as she manages to shove him off.

“No!” she cries out, the word catching in her throat. Molly’s outburst gives Elvis pause. Hurt and confusion flash across his face as he pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow.

“What is it?” his voice is gruff but not unkind.

Molly turns her face away, cheeks flaming. How can she tell him? That despite her adventurous friend and all the talk, she's never actually… that he would be her first.

Elvis regards her steadily. Impossibly long black lashes curtain the genuine concern in his eyes. Molly's pulse throbs in her ears.

"Please don't make me say it," she whispers finally. Molly squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. But a single drop escapes, trailing down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "It's just… I've never…"

Understanding dawns on Elvis' face. He brushes the tear from her face with surprising tenderness.

"Never been with a man before?" he asks gently.

Molly shakes her head, a furious blush creeping up her neck. She expects anger, derision, rejection. For him to throw her out and call for the next girl.

But instead, Elvis tips her chin up to look at him. "Oh honey," he murmurs. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Molly's breath catches in her throat as Elvis regards her with unexpected tenderness. His hands, which moments before seemed so insistent, now caress her face and arms with featherlight touches.

"I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elvis shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Oh darlin', that don't matter one bit to me. I want you, Molly girl. I want to make you feel real good."

He drags his thumb over her bottom lip and Molly shivers. She knows she should leave, should find Doreen and book it out of there before she does something reckless. But the way Elvis is looking at her, like she's the only woman in the world… it makes her feel powerful. Desired. Dangerous.

She... likes it?

"Just relax and lemme take care of you," Elvis murmurs, his breath hot against her ear. With that, the last of her resolve melts.

His hands, knowing and sure, explore her curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moans, melting into him, her body betraying her. She's scared, yes, but she's also aching for more. He senses her hesitation, easing her back even further, parting her thighs with a tenderness belied by the impressive size of his hands. His eyes are hungry, admiring the perfect, trembling creature before him.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, running a calloused finger along her jawline. His words were like sweet poison, both thrilling and terrifying. "Shh, baby," he coos, "I gotcha."

He kisses her, his lips firm yet gentle, as if he can taste her innocence. Her first kiss, her first everything, all with him. She was born for him.

His lips trail down her breasts, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Molly arches into the sensation, the soft scratch of his stubble against her skin. His hand slides down to her stomach, fingertips tracing the sensitive flesh just below her belly button.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks hoarsely. She shakes her head, unable to form words. "Say it, Molly girl." He presses a kiss to her hip bone, nipping lightly at it.

"No," she gasps. "Don't stop."

He smiles against her skin. "Good girl," he purrs before lowering his mouth to where she's aching for him most.

His tongue flicks forward, teasing her entrance and Molly cries out, her fingers curling into the silk sheets. She looks down at him—somewhere down there—through one open eye.

"Is that what... are you supposed to be—"

Before she can finish her sentence, his hands grip her thighs. Fear and desire battle within her, but desire wins out as curious pecks and licks turn into long, languid strokes. Bracing himself, Elvis feasts on her, like she's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. She finally opens her eyes and there he is in all his glory: lapping at her, coaxing the desire out of her body and onto his waiting tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through her. "Oh God," she whuffs out, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice wonders what everyone else must be thinking. But then Elvis's tongue buries itself deep within again, soft and wet, and all thoughts vanish into thin air. His hands grip the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her closer to him as he laps at her vulnerable center. She's never felt anything like this before, the pleasure so unbearable it hurts.

"That's it, baby," he growls into her glistening pussy, "ride it out."

And she does. His tongue flicks and swirls, plunging inside her, mimicking what she imagines is his impressive length.

By now, the whole house must hear her moans, but she doesn’t care. She’s coming undone whether she wants to or not, and she’s never felt more alive.

“Oh, Elvis,” she moans, her voice high and desperate, “Oh, I—”

Molly van Patton shudders and bucks against him, her first ever orgasm coursing through her body like wildfire. He doesn't stop though, not until she's sobbing and spent, her juices coating his face. He looks up at her through hooded lids, a satisfied smirk on his full lips.

“I ain’t done with you yet.”

He moves up her body, his manhood hard and throbbing against her thigh. Her entrance flutters in anticipation, and Elvis smiles at the sight. He positions himself there, large and intimidating.

“Relax, li’l girl,” he whispers in her ear. “I’ll be real gentle.” Molly looks up at him, eyes wide, pleading.

“You sure you want this?”

She nods dutifully.

“Say it f’me, now.”

“I want you inside me.”

That’s all he needs. Before she can take it back, he slides in an inch, and then another. He’s so big, stretching her so wide she’s certain she’ll split in half. Certain he'll pierce her and she'll never be the same again. Tears leak from her eyes, mixing with the mascara from earlier.

“Shh,” he soothes, “I got you.” His accent is thicker than usual, sweet like molasses. Slowly, bit by excruciating bit, Elvis works himself inside her tight heat. Molly bites her lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway.

At that, Elvis groans, and then he’s entering her more and more until he bottoms out. He's still for a moment, ensuring she can truly take in all of his length. “Tell me how it feels,” he grunts, as he slowly picks up speed.

“It hurts,” she pants out. But it’s a delectable sort of hurt. He’s filling her up in ways she never thought possible. Each thrust has her teeth bitting his shoulder tighter.

“I know, baby,” he coos into her ear, “but it gets better, I promise.”

And somehow, it does. The pain eases and is replaced with a delicious ache that has her hips rocking towards his.. Heat pools in her belly as he claims her with every thrust, like she was made for him and only him.

“You’re so tight,” he moans. “Made for me.”

It’s a mantra, a vow, as a he pistons in and out, breaking her in with every stroke. Her climax from before was nothing compared to this. She’s soon whimpering, clawing at his back, an evil sob stuck in her throat.

"That's it, baby," he pants, "give it all to me."

Elvis pulls out swiftly, leaving Molly empty and aching. In one smooth motion, he flips her over onto her stomach.

"On your knees," he commands.

Molly whimpers but obeys, presenting herself to him on all fours. Elvis groans at the sight, gripping her hips tightly.

He enters her from behind in one powerful thrust. Molly cries out, the new angle allowing him to penetrate her even deeper. Elvis sets a ruthless pace, pounding into her relentlessly.

The sound of slapping flesh fills the air as he claims her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. He hits a spot deep inside that has Molly seeing stars. She pushes her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough.

"That's right, take it," Elvis growls. His breathing is labored in her ear, hot and ragged. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping onto her shoulder blades, but he doesn’t relent. “You’re taking me so good. You love it, don’t you?”

She does. Oh, God, does she ever. Fuck it. If this was wrong, she didn’t want to be right.

He keeps pounding into her, and it's dizzying and intoxicating all at once. The room spins as she clings to the headboard for dear life, his name a curse on her lips, a talisman against the building pleasure-pain coiling in her core. His pace quickens, hot breath on her neck, and his thick chest hair tickling her back.

“El… vis…” she mewls. “Right there!”

He obliges, his expert hands massaging her swollen clit as he pounds into her from behind.

“Yeah, just like that,” he rasps as Molly bucks against him, working the length of his cock with her slick and pushing her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough. It shocks him how quickly she took to his cock. Elvis’ fingers dig almost painfully into her hips, urging her on. “That’s right, take what you need.”

"Elvis, I..."

The pressure builds, coiling in her belly like a spring. “That’s my girl, let it go,” he growls in her ear, and that’s all it takes.

Her body explodes into a million stars, tightening around him as she screams her release. Just like that, it hits her all at once—from heaven and hell itself, crashing over her like a tidal wave and even more powerful than the first. Colors dance behind her eyelids.

Elvis’ nails dig into her back, and she can feel the delicious sting as they break the skin. “Unnngh,” he grunts, “I’m fuckin’ close.” The filthy words spur her on, and she clenches around him, the fluttering of her walls easing up, and suddenly she’s slowly floating back to earth and back to life and back to his gigantic bed in his gigantic mansion in Memphis, Tennessee. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.

He growls and buries himself even deeper, his thrusts erratic and desperate now. Harder and harder until he, too, splinters apart, shattering inside her like stained glass. He grunts, his release warm and sticky deep inside her.

Later, Elvis cocoons Molly in his strong arms and starts to rock her gently. As she drifts off to sleep, she knows there's no going back.

She's his now, body and soul. That’s the price she paid for giving in to her darkest desire.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis x oc #elvis fic #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #big daddy elvis

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foreverdolly · 2 years

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wanna play house | protective austin!elvis x reader

this is a continuation of 'my bestest girl', but you do not have to read it first in order to read this one. . . however i implore you to do so.

summary: elvis's mother has been worried sick about your safety during your time on the road with her son. you and elvis brush it off as her just being paranoid, but danger always manages to rear it's ugly head at the worst of times. elvis, seeing you scared and slightly injured, absolutely loses it.

pairings: protective austin!elvis x reader

word count: 7,471

warnings/notes: SMUT! ,violence, elvis beats the shit out of someone for you and it's hot, oral (f receiving), elvis literally worships you as though you are a goddess and i love that for you, you both cry while he eats you out because emotions are high and he's obsessed with you.

masterlist | requests are currently closed !

It had been a pain in the ass to talk the Colonel into letting you come along with him and the band as they performed with Hank Snow for the fair, but Elvis had made it happen. The two of you had only been going out officially for the last couple of weeks, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that the two of you were disgustingly in love with one another. If you were within eyesight then Elvis was looking at you. If you were in the other room, he was bound to follow after you like a lost dog. If you weren’t around at all, then he was surely thinking about you. It was a never ending cycle, really. You were just as bad off as Elvis was. You always had to be touching him, whether it be your hand in his, your shoulder pressed against him, or even your legs thrown up into his lap. The bandmates were positive that eventual drama would arise, but the two of you always seemed to be in high spirits.

The screaming fans didn’t bother you, not when Elvis went out of his way to let you know that you were the only girl that he truly cared about. Everyone had fallen into a comfortable pattern, you included. “Yes ma’am. I’m makin’ sure he’s eatin’ well.” You twirled the wire of the hotel landline around your finger, watching the ebony haired boy getting dressed out of the corner of your eye. He was buttoning up his white slacks and caught your heady gaze in the mirror. With a wide smile he wordlessly made his way over to you, chuckling under his breath as you quickly reached out, running your free hand over his chest and giving his nipple a teasing squeeze. He playfully swatted your hand away, reaching down to grab his lace shirt off of the queen sized bed the two of you were sharing that night. “I’m just worried to death about the two of you, baby. I don’t want any of those girls hurtin’ him. . . and I know how horrible some boys can be.” Gladys’s love knew no bounds, and you appreciated her for it. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a little though, leaning your hip up against the desk that had been squeezed into the small room.

“I’m keepin’ a very close eye on him, darlin’. You know I wouldn’t ever let anythin’ happen to our boy, right? Besides, we’re out in the country. I’m sure nothin’ bad will happen all the way out here. The scariest thing we’ve seen these last four days have been a couple of drunks.” Elvis chuckled from the bathroom, the sink turning on as he began slicking back his hair. You could already smell his Brylcreem pomade from where you stood across the suite. “Now is he keepin’ a close eye on you? At the end of the day, I know Elvis can hold his own. You’re a different story.” You couldn’t remember a single time that you had felt unsafe thus far on the trip. Really, you knew that she had the propensity to overreact, but she had been going on for the better part of half an hour at this point. You were trying to be patient with her, but you could only take so much. Gladys was worse than your own mother, and you weren’t sure how that feat was even possible. “Mama, I don’t need any sort of protection. I can hold my own! Cross my heart and hope to die.” You could hear her scoff, but Vernon’s low voice whispered on the other end. “Stop holding our youngins hostage. Elvis has got a show to put on.” You had already started walking in the direction of the bathroom, stretching the phone cord as far as it would let you. “Do you want to talk to Elvis before we have to leave?” “Would you put him on? Thank ya, baby.” Elvis held up his wax coated hands to show you that he needed some help, so you pressed the phone against his ear for him.

“Hey, Satnin.” He purred to her, shooting you a small smile before letting his eyes fall down to the counter. You couldn’t hear Gladys’s voice from where you stood, but judging by the way he was nodding his head up and down dully, you were sure that he was getting an earful. “Uh-huh. . . No, I’ve been lookin’ out for her. She stands at the front of all of my shows, mama. I’d die if somethin’ were to happen to her.” You smiled down at the floor, biting at the inside of your cheeks in the hopes of getting your heart back under control- it was fluttering at a maddening pace. “She’s with me every second of the day. She never leaves my sight, I promise ya- He what? Daddy wants to talk to me? Put him on.” Elvis placed his comb down on the side of the sink, licking his lips before looking at himself in the mirror. He must not have liked what he saw because he grimaced, shooting your reflection a goofy look as he waited for his father to get to the phone. “Hello?” A couple of seconds passed before he was rolling his eyes, shaking his head back and forth. “I’d kill em’. Simple as that. I promise you both that I won’t ever let anythin’ happen to her. . . Yeah- Yeah, she is our girl, so imma take good care of her.” He was running the comb back through his hair, tucking a few strands into place absentmindedly. After a few more seconds passed he turned his cheek, pressing his lips up against the receiver and mumbling a quick “love ya too” before giving you a look. You walked back into the hotel room, hanging up the phone before turning to face the bathroom.

“What are they goin’ on about?” You asked, hurriedly getting out your own suitcase so that you could get dressed. You had been on the phone so long with Gladys that you hadn’t had any time to get ready for the concert. Elvis was particular about certain things, and he liked the idea of you guys matching when he performed. If he wore a baby blue shirt, then you wore a baby blue dress. If he was dressed in all black and white- like tonight- then you did as well. You didn’t mind much. It looked wonderful in pictures, and it made you feel even more connected to him. It warmed your heart that he liked not only being a couple, but looking like a couple too. He had always been very particular about the clothes that he wore. Despite the fact that you also came from a working class family, things had never gotten as financially troublesome as it had for the Presleys. Elvis had grown up poor, but he always made a point not to look it. His mother always made sure his clothes were freshly ironed and pressed and that his shoes were always shined.

Elvis had always been a rather particular fellow, and he hadn’t always been celebrated for it. People calling him a “fairy” or “squirrel” didn’t get to him though. Not anymore, at least. He was above the name calling, coming to the conclusion that it said far more about their own character than it did his. He always handled it relatively well back in high school, though he knew that most of the name calling and trash talk stemmed from the fact that the other boys his age were probably just jealous.

“Mama said she’s been havin’ a bad feelin’ about somethin’ lately. They’re both worried about ya, is all.” Elvis had always been over cautious with you, even throughout your friendship. If he didn’t seem worried about it, then you wouldn’t be either. “She’s been a nervous wreck ever since you told her about the Louisiana Hayride. She’s probably just feelin’ a bit anxious.” He hummed his agreeance, a comfortable silence befalling the two of you as you began getting changed. Your dress was a rather scandalous little diddy, what with the rather low cut heart-shaped neckline and the way the hem was just above your knees, showing off your legs. It was something you had purchased for yourself months ago but had been unable to wear due to your parents' rather conservative ways. You pushed your way into the bathroom at the same time that Elvis was finishing up with his hair, his eyes instantly locking on your reflection in the mirror. “Good god almighty.” He mumbled, dropping the comb back onto the counter so that he could turn around and face you. His blue eyes trailed over your smaller frame, his lips parted as he took in the sight of you. Elvis had made it a point to explore every inch of you over the last few weeks. He took his time committing every mole and freckle to memory. He was certain that he could draw you with his eyes closed, and the man could barely sketch a stick figure.

Despite that, every time he made love to you, or even got a glimpse of you, it still felt like the first time. His stomach would fill with butterflies, his palms would start to sweat, and his pants would grow impossibly tight. In all the years that he had known you, never had he seen you in a dress like this. The sweet little babydoll nighties you’d prance around his room in were a completely different story. This was a masterpiece. You were a masterpiece. “You’ve got me sweatin’ worse than a whore in church. God damn it, my girl is so beautiful.” He lifted his hand up to his face, biting down on his knuckle with a small grin. You couldn’t help but blush at the sudden onslaught of compliments, shyly waving him off with a small flick of your wrist. There wasn’t much room in the tiny motel bathroom, so you couldn’t duck away from his arms even if you wanted to. He was quick to pull you towards him, his hands moving over the cinched waistline of the dress, slowly brushing down to run his fingers along the hip. You shivered as you felt his touch against the skin of your thighs.

“How ‘bout we just stay in, hmm? I could tell the Colonel that I got food poisonin’ or somethin’.” It was nearly possible to deny him of anything he wanted, especially when he looked at you like that. Ever so slowly he began backing you up, smiling smugly as you let out a small yelp whenever your back hit the wall behind you. “Let me make love to you, yeah? I’ll make it quick. I promise-” A knock at the door made the both of you jump, but he soon threw his head back with an exasperated groan, his eyes screwed shut. “What is it?” He called, popping his head out of the bathroom door so that the intruder might hear him better. “We’re startin’ to pack the cars up, EP. You two dressed and ready yet?” You bit your lip as you pressed your back tighter against the wall, hoping that the added space between you and your beau might calm the growing heat between your legs. “Shit.” Elvis cursed, giving you an apologetic look before taking a step back from you. He looked down at the front of his trousers, wincing as he noticed that he was visibly hard. He took a couple of seconds to try and adjust himself in a way that wouldn’t make it so obvious, but gave up after a while. “I’m comin’. Give me one second Scotty.” He brushed past you on his way to the door, giving you one last suggestive look before prying his gaze away. He opened the door just a sliver, hiding his bottom half the best he could.

“You don’t even have your shoes on yet. What the hell have you been doin’ this whole time?” Scotty asked exasperatedly, his eyebrows furrowing in slight annoyance. Elvis looked behind him at the cars, wincing as he noticed people were already climbing into their seats or pulling out of the parking lot completely. “We’ve been busy.” He said simply. Scotty looked over Elvis’s shoulder, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed your flushed cheeks. “Doin’ what, exactly?” The dark haired boy didn’t take kindly to the fact that someone else was seeing his girl in such a state, so he was quick to grab the edge of the door, closing it enough so that only his face and a small sliver of the room inside could be visible. “We were busy, alright? I’ll come out in a second. Let me just get my things together.” Scotty threw his hands up in surrender after noticing the look on Elvis’s face, taking two steps back from the door. “Be quick about it. We go on after Snow, and I’m tired of hearin’ the square complain.” Elvis was quick to shut the door, jogging over towards his suitcase so that he could find his shoes. “Baby? Do you mind doin’ my eyes like you have em?” He motioned to his eyes with his finger, flashing you a small smile.

You weren’t about to give your boyfriend a smoky eye, but you hoped he’d be alright with just some eyeliner and mascara. Not that his long lashes needed them anyway. “If we’ve got time, hun.” Your legs still felt a bit weak, what with the heavy petting from earlier, but you managed to walk to your purse so that you could grab your small makeup pouch. Elvis buttoned up his black lace shirt as you gently dragged some dark liner over his upper and bottom lashline, being careful to smear it a little after you were done so that it wouldn’t be too stark against his complexion. “Here, now close your eyes.” You ran the mascara wand through his lashes, cooing softly to him as you realized just how blue it made his eyes look. “And open em.” He obeyed, his hands moving up to grab you softly by your hips as you finished up. “Am I pretty?” He asked with a teasing smile, tilting his chin upwards, which was his way of silently asking for a kiss. You complied, giving him a quick peck before pulling away to nod. “Gorgeous.”

Elvis was the only boy that you had ever met that preferred to be called pretty rather than handsome. He was putty in your hands any time you referred to him as ‘your pretty boy’. Well, who was he kidding? He was always putty in your hands. He would be a liar if he said that he wasn’t used to female attention. He’d say ‘thank you’ with that signature side smile of his- but the grin- it was reserved only for you. The corners of his eyes would crinkle and his nose would scrunch up. It made him look so childlike. So vulnerable, and it was only something that you were allowed to see. You knew good and well that there were certain aspects of Elvis that you would have to share with his fans, but he made sure to reserve the most sacred parts only for you.

“Thank ya, baby.” He mumbled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before he stood up and off of the bed.

The drive to the fairgrounds was awkward, but Elvis seemed to be the only one that didn’t get the memo. He had one of his hands in your lap, playing subconsciously with the fabric of your dress while he spoke under his breath to you. It was mostly hushed compliments, but the second that the bright lights of the fair became visible he started whispering gentle instructions. “I don’t want ya gettin’ lost in the crowd, alright now? Make your way to the front, just like we practiced. I want to be able to keep my eye on ya the entire time.” The ebony haired man had talked a big game back in the motel room, but you could tell that whatever his mother and father had said to him carried some weight. He seemed a little bit more antsy than he did the previous night. Despite the fact that nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, you still nodded, allowing him to pull you along through crowds. The closer you two got to the stage, the quicker people began to take notice of him. Girl’s turned their heads, some even going as far as to drop their date’s hand as he passed. He didn’t pay any mind, instead he kept his eyes locked on the stage, trying to find a good place for you to go. “Here, push your way right there.” He leaned in close so that you could hear him over Hank’s singing, pointing with his pinky, his newly purchased ring shining in the bright artificial light. You nodded, smiling against his lips as he gave you one last kiss before jogging to catch up with his band. You were quick to follow instruction, easily maneuvering through the crowd, muttering apologies as men and women turned to glare in your direction.

You weren’t quite sure why, but you were starting to become nervous yourself. It felt like someone was watching you, and had been since you and Elvis passed the admission gates. You anxiously looked over your shoulders, trying to see if there might be anyone you recognized, but alas- nothing. You tried to swallow back the strange sense of dread that was beginning to bubble up in your throat, instead focusing on the stage in front of you. Hank Snow was a talent, but surely wasn’t your cup of tea. His ballads were too slow and shallow for your liking. Too safe. Elvis had been the one to get you hooked on good music way back in high school. You still clapped for Snow whenever he took a bow, flashing him a small smile. You and Elvis had been playing nice with the man. You two had a strong feeling that he didn’t take too kindly to the two of you and the flamboyant way you both decided to live your lives. He was never outwardly rude to you at least. Elvis wasn’t so lucky though.

The second that the forest green suited country singer had stepped off the stage, it was almost as though the entire crowd took a collective breath to steady themselves. You bit the inside of your cheek as a few girls started pushing against your back, your chest and hips pressing uncomfortably against the wooden stage. In a single millisecond the aura had completely shifted. A few older patrons began to walk away from the stage, but it did nothing to lessen the crowd. People began running across the fairgrounds to make it to the stage in time.

Scotty and Bill stepped on stage, dragging their instruments along with them. Girls began gasping, whispering amongst themselves as they waited for Elvis to join them. “Have you seen his picture in the paper? He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!” “My friend lives in Shreveport and saw him at the Louisiana Hayride. She said she’s never seen anything like it.” You couldn’t keep the knowing smirk off of your lips. If they thought he was beautiful from a grainy picture alone, just wait until they saw the way that the music moved him. You pressed your hands against the top of the stage, Scotty and Bill flashing you a quick smile just before the crowd erupted with loud screams. It made your ears ring. Elvis jogged up on stage, guitar in hand. His bare arms flexed as he gently strummed the chords, stepping up to the mic. “It’s an honor to be able to play here for you all tonight.” He called over the loud screams and cries. There was something perversly satisfying about seeing the hold that he had over everyone, knowing good and well that you were the only person that has ever and will ever touch him. Not even in the girl’s wildest fantasies would they ever know what he was truly like behind closed doors. The eyeliner that had the girls swooning? You had put that on him yourself. The soft sheen to his lips? That was the lipstick that had transferred onto him from your mouth.

The girls could hoot and holler all they wanted. You didn’t blame them one bit. You didn’t feel even a little jealous as they began calling his name, begging for even a shred of his attention, because you knew that he was yours. He knew it too. His eyes instantly scanned the crowd, his shoulders visibly relaxing when he finally found your form. After Elvis and the boys had given the crowd a few moments to quiet down, they began playing their first song. The sound of Elvis’s voice and the quick, near violent way he strummed his guitar was unlike anything that you had ever heard before. It had changed something inside of you. You could tell that the crowd was having the exact same reaction as they watched him, swaying to the sound of the music. Some girls looked like they might pass out, their faces going pale and their eyes growing glassy. This was the kind of music that concerned mothers and fathers warned their children about. Rock and roll.

Elvis was rock and roll. It wasn’t just a type of music or a way of dressing for him. It was the way that he lived his life. It was a state of mind. It was a state of being. His hips and feet moved as though he was possessed by God himself. He may as well have been. You could feel the standup bass in your chest, and Elvis’s guitar in your throat. Your blood fizzled like champagne as you watched him, his eyes bluer than a summer sky, his bubblegum pink lips pulled taught against bright white teeth as he screamed into the mic. His eyes moved over the crowd, and suddenly he was on his knees, leaning back to look up at the night sky as his fingers flew over the neck of the guitar.

You couldn’t help yourself as you reached out, no better than the screaming fans as you brushed your fingers over his thigh, needing to touch him. You didn’t know how, but he instantly looked at you, as if he could feel that you were the one touching him. His eyes burned as he took in the expression on your face, his lips curling back into a snarl. Girls distantly screamed behind you as they took in his expression.

Something like this wouldn’t be romantic to some, but you melted against the stage, your torso leaning further against the hardwood. You were sure to have bruises tonight, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You needed to be closer closer closer. Your body ached for him. You could feel his guitar vibrating through you, his heavenly voice bringing back memories of last night. Of how he loved to press his lips against your ear to purr and moan. He wanted you to hear every heavy breath, every gasp, every preen- and as he practically laid himself out on that stage, girls trying to grab at whatever they could, he had never felt more yours. He grabbed your face in his hands for a split second before he was standing back up, moving over to the mic so that he could finish up the song.

By the second song there were at least three pairs of panties on the stage, which both you and Elvis regarded with wide, humor filled smiles.

Elvis sang with a violence that he never let shine through in his everyday life. He got up on that stage and sang for his mama, his daddy, you and God. He belted up to the heavens for the angels to hear. You could feel the damn near desperation as he swayed his body, his hair falling into his eyes, dripping with sweat.

After the third song you felt as though you might faint yourself. You could barely breathe as girls continued to press against you- crushing your ribs against the stage. You were never the type of girl to follow instruction very well, so despite Elvis and even Gladys’s worries, you found yourself slipping through the crowd, breathing hard as you tore your way through the writhing bodies. Your eyes swept over the grounds, and you were quick to make your way over towards a refreshment tent. “Can I just get a cup of water?” The carnie recognized you as Elvis’s girl instantly, smiling as he saw your pink cheeks and shaky hands. You sat down on a nearby picnic table as you greedily gulped down the water. You could hear his voice from across the grounds, tapping your foot along to the beat as you tried to enjoy the last of his performance.

“Whatcha doin’ over here alone?” You jumped as you heard a deep voice sound from right beside you. You had been so wrapped up in the music that you hadn’t even noticed someone approaching you. You blinked, turning around just to make sure that there wasn’t someone else behind you that the man must have been talking to. Alas, you were the only person in the vicinity. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend to get done performing.” You pointed to the stage, slowly placing the cup down on the table just in case you needed to quickly excuse yourself. He sat down beside you anyway, nodding his head slowly. The refreshment tent was a hundred feet away, and you were in an area with barely any lighting. You were beginning to become more aware of the precarious situation that you had somehow put yourself in. “Ah, right. I saw you walkin’ hand in hand with that scrawny musician.” Your eyes quickly narrowed as you stood up and off of the table. “I don’t take kindly to people bad mouthin’ my loved ones, ya understand? If a conversation was what you were lookin’ for, then find it elsewhere.” You spat, pointing over to another populated area. He blinked, seemingly taken aback by your bold nature.

“Woah. . . you sure are loud for a tiny lil thing,” You took a step back as he stood up and off of the table himself, shoving his hands into his pockets as he gave you a once over. “Maybe you shouldn’t go ‘round dressin’ like that if ya don’t want strangers approachin’.” You could have socked the man right in the face. You began shaking with anger, clenching your fists at your sides. “What does my outfit have anythin’ to do with you unnecessarily runnin’ your mouth? Did ya think you insultin’ my boyfriend would make me interested in you? Hah!” You let out a loud, humorless laugh. “Like I said earlier; move along.” You shooed him off, reaching out for your water cup. You let out a scream as he grabbed you roughly by the wrist, your shoulder cracking as he roughly yanked you forward. “Watch yer mouth, girlie.” He spoke to you through clenched teeth, his eyes wide and wild. You swallowed thickly, fear hitting you like a freight train. You could distantly hear your boyfriend working the crowd, your stomach flipping anxiously as you realized he was about to get off stage and realize you weren’t there to greet him.

“Let go of me. Rough housin’ with a lady out in public like this isn’t very gentlemanly.” You tried to yank your sore arm back to your side, but he didn’t let go. He added even more pressure, and you cried out in pain as you realized that he was damn near close to breaking it. “I don’t let women boss me ‘round.” His free hand moved up to your hair, his fingers gripping roughly as he jerked your head back. Was he about to kiss you? Touch you?

You were unable to run now, and so you knew that the only option you had was to get someone’s attention. Anyone’s. “Help!” You screamed, your eyes prickling with tears as you tried to move your head in the man’s hold, hoping to avoid whatever he was planning to do with you. A beat passed before you finally sucked in another breath, screaming again. “Elvis!” Your boyfriend had been speaking into the microphone, but the second that you had called his name he went silent. You could distantly hear a loud clatter and a few females calling out his name, but you were too focused on the older man’s face to pay attention to much else. He was dragging you further into the darkness by your hair, and you stumbled blindly forward, reaching your arms out to push as hard as you could against his chest, even going as far as to bang your fist against his shoulders in the hopes of somehow fighting him off.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even have time to blink. You stumbled backwards, the breath being knocked from your lungs as you hit the grass. Hard. You could hear a tussle behind you, and you blinked back tears as you slowly sat up. It was like everything was happening in slow motion. The red faced stranger had been pushed back against the picnic table, pinned there, and your boyfriend stood above him, muscles bulging as he gripped him by the front of his shirt, wailing on him with his right arm. Again and again he connected his fist with the man’s face, his teeth clenched, the veins in his arms bulging as he let out a deep, guttural scream. Elvis had somehow, by the grace of god, heard your voice over a hundred screaming girls and came running to your rescue. A loud sob escaped your throat as both relief and pain overcame you. The pitiful sound only spurred him on.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Ya hear me? You’re dead!” Elvis’s deep voice called, a small crowd already beginning to form. You tried to stand up on shaky legs, embarrassment flooding your veins as you realized what kind of a state you were in. “E-Elvis. . . He’s had enough, baby!”

Elvis had been pushed around and beat on his entire life for looking and being the way that he was. Over the years he had learned how to fight. How to win. He might have been smaller than the brute, but it wasn’t the size that mattered in this case. No- it was the skill and ferocity that your boyfriend possessed. That and the white hot rage. Elvis’s eyes were wild as he stared down at him, not letting up even for a second. The man had tried to push back against the ebony haired musician, but the blows to the head had kept him in a dazed state. Elvis’s gaudy golden ring made contact with the man’s temple again and again. The crowd began to part as a few men broke through, moving to try and pull your man off of the assailant. “You’re killin’ him, Elvis! Stop! Please, for the love of God!” At the sound of your distress he was quick to let go, shrugging the men’s hands off of him as he quickly made his way over to you. “Hey, hey. Talk to me darlin’. What happened.” His eyes flickered over your face wildly as he panicked. He stopped himself from reaching out for you when he realized his knuckles were caked in blood, wiping them off on his white pants. He brushed your hair off of your sweaty forehead, pressing his own forehead against your cheek, desperate to have you against him. To hear your breath and feel your heart beating against his chest. You could hear people trying to disperse the crowd, but you paid no mind to them. You kept your eyes locked on Elvis's shoulder as you fought off the urge to cry. “Talk to me, baby. You’re shakin’ like a leaf.” You gulped down deep breaths, finally moving your hands to grip onto his shirt. You rubbed your fingers against the lace, feeling his warm skin beneath. It soothed you. Helped you to stop your panicking.

“EP. You take the car back to the motel. We’ll just ride with Jimmie and Hank back.” You heard Scotty’s voice beside you. Elvis slowly untangled one of his arms from your form, shoving the keys in his now ruined pants. “Let’s get to the car. Can you do that? Can you walk, sweet heart?” He purred, pulling away to look at your face. He cupped your cheeks in his hands, sucking in a hard breath as he noticed your tear caked face and wide teary eyes. His chest began to rise and fall quickly as he took deep breath after deep breath. “I should have gutted him.” You were quick to shake your head, stumbling back as you pulled him with you by his shirt. “L-Let’s just go okay? I wanna go.” You needed to get the hell out of there as fast as you could. Even if someone else had already come by and picked the stranger up. Even if you knew you were now well protected- it didn’t matter. You needed to go back to the motel room so that you could break down without having everybody’s eyes on you. You were sure that this fight would only add to Elvis’s sordid reputation as well. You were. . . you were just mortified. Elvis kept his arm tightly around you as he walked you through the fairgrounds, allowing you to tuck your head into his throat. He continued to mumble sweet words into your ear as the two of you made your way out into the car lot. Elvis helped you into the bright yellow car, going as far as to make sure you were well situated before moving on over to the drivers side.

The car ride was silent. He didn’t even turn on the radio, which was rare for him. You rolled down the window, letting the wind whip your hair back and cool your hot face. By the time the two of you had made it back to the room you had already started to calm down. With the panic and adrenaline now out of your system, you could feel how badly your arm hurt. You kept your mouth shut about it, knowing that Elvis would probably tear the room apart in his haste to find the man responsible. He was being so sweet and tentative towards you, but you could tell that he was barely hanging on to his sanity. He’d always gone out of his way to watch over you. This wasn’t the first guy he’d gotten in a fight with over you. . . but never had it been this bad. Never.

After you had told Elvis the entire story, save for the part where you were sure that you’d torn a muscle in your shoulder, he just sat there on the bed in silence. For a second you were sure that he was going to react with more anger, but you would have been wrong. Your lips parted as you watched his blue eyes fill with tears. After a few seconds he let out a loud sob, his body shaking as he practically caved in on himself. Never in your entire life had you ever seen him so upset. He began rubbing his own arms with his hands, as if to comfort himself, to get himself to stop crying. Not even your own loving hands and soothing words could stop him. His body was wracked with sobs as he pulled his knees up to his chest, pressing his forehead against the tops of his thighs. “Baby? Baby what’s wrong?” You gripped him by the chin, gently leaning his head back so that you could look at him. The mascara had begun running down his cheeks, his eyelashes clumping together. His lip quivered as he tried to get the words out because another loud hiccup shook his shoulders. “I don’t deserve you. I-I can’t live with myself after a-all of that happened.” He wiped at his eyes, only smearing the makeup even more.

If you thought his eyes had looked blue before, now they looked like sapphires.

Burning bright. Burning sad.

“It’s not your fault, hun. None of that was your fault. I-I. . . I moved away from the crowd. I’m the one to blame.” He shook his head, his jaw going slack.

“Are you insane, y/n? You’re my girl. My baby,” He dropped his legs so that he could bang his hand against his chest to emphasize the words. “It’s my job to keep you safe. Keep you takin’ care of. I was up there singin’ like a fool while you were havin’ your hair ripped out of your little head. I promised your daddy. . . your mama that I was goin’ to look after you until the day that i died, and look what happened under my watch.” You could have started crying yourself. He was shakin’, his eyes wide, cheeks stained and streaked with mascara and eyeliner.

If you had thought that he looked like a God up on that stage, now he looked like a fallen angel.

“You couldn’t have known any of that was gonna happen. You did the best that you cou-” “Well my best isn’t damn good enough!” You jerked back as he screamed, watching as his hands moved up to his head, gripping- yanking- at his hair. In front of you sat a man who had spent his whole life doing for others. He financially provided for his parents, even during high school. He worked three jobs just to put food on the table and gas in his daddy’s car, all while counting pennies to buy himself a coke from the corner store. He felt like he had to watch over everyone he loved. That their happiness and safety relied on him.

“You’re perfect and you’re mine.” You reached out, holding him against yourself so tightly that you were sure one of your rib cages were sure to break. ‘Fuck it’, you thought. ‘Let it shatter’. “There isn’t anything you could have done to prevent it, baby. All I can say is that imma be careful from now on. I won’t leave your side. Not ever again.” He was pulling on your clothes, pulling on your hair, clutching you to him like he was scared that you might dissipate into thin air. You let him claw at you- dig his calloused fingers into your soft skin. “Please. Please never leave me. I-I can’t take it.”

If you had ever questioned whether or not Elvis truly loved you, you sure as hell never would again. The man was practically destroying himself over a situation that he had no control over, all because you had gotten hurt. “Never. I’m not goin’ anywhere, darlin’.” That was all he needed to hear. In the blink of an eye he had you pinned down to the bed, his hands clumsily fumbling with the bottom of your dirt stained dress. “E-Elvis! What are you doin’?” You tried grabbing his hands to stop him, but he was a man on a mission. “Let me make it up to you.” Your eyes widened, lips parting slightly as his fingers found your panties. He was tearing them off of you in a second. “T-There’s nothing to make up for! Let me love on you, for Christ’s sake. You need to calm down.” His eyes flickered back up to meet yours, and he sniffled softly, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His eyes were hard, but no longer teary. “I am calm. I just. . . I feel like I can’t breathe if I’m not touchin’ you right now. So let me. . . let me touch you.” Your eyes fluttered as you looked up at him, his gaze hard, bordering on animalistic. It was as if you had been transported back to his show. His hand gripping your face, eyes boring into your own as he moved just for you. You worshiped him just as he worshiped you. Elvis Presley was one of a kind. No one had ever been born like him before, and nobody ever would be even after he was gone. You were sure of it.

He pushed your skirt up and over your hips, kissing down your body as though he could absorb the fear that you had felt earlier. He usually liked to tease you in order to get you worked up, but he didn’t tonight. No- His lips and tongue lapped you up like you were made of honey, and when his eyes flickered up to meet yours from between your legs, he beheld you as if you were some glittery, golden thing. His fingers brushed up your body, cupping your breast through your dress, working your already hardening nipples with his fingers. You cried out, back arching as the pleasure steadily began to build.

He pulled at the neckline of your stained dress, his tongue running all the way up from your entrance to your clit- slow slow slow. His eyebrows furrowed, humming as he tasted you. He cupped your now freed breasts, pinching the nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

You were panting so hard you were sure that you might pass out. Your hand gripped hard at the sheets as he continued to work your clit over with his tongue, his eyes falling shut as he savored you. His thick, long lashes casted shadows on his cheeks. Every once and a while they would flutter, like the beating of a butterfly's wings. In the dull lamp light of the dingy motel room, covered in dirt and grass stains, you felt your heart swell to the point of bursting. Your eyes filled with tears as you stared up at the ceiling, your plush lips parting as a sob ripped from your throat.

You were wracked with both pleasure and a crippling sense of hope. You loved this man more than anything else. You’d love him in this life, in the next life, and into whatever came next.

He was everything.

And on cue the man’s free hand found yours, which had been tangled up in the sheets. He intertwined his fingers, gripping you tight. You weren’t sure why- but that was what pushed you over the edge. You dug the back of your head into the mattress as you climaxed, eyes squeezing shut. His hand moved from your breasts to your thigh, holding it to the side so that he could continue his attack, riding you through your orgasm. He didn’t stop there. Your free hand tangled into his hair, chanting his name as though it was some ancient spell. Your body quivered against him, thighs naturally trying hard to squeeze together, to stop him from continuing to push you over the edge. He didn’t stop, his tongue focusing on your bundle of nerves. Before you knew it you were building up all over again, your cunt dripping with slick and spit, and quite possibly tears. You didn’t know. You didn’t care.

You weren’t even sure if you were speaking coherently when you climaxed for the second time. You thought that you were praising him, telling him how pretty he was and how good, but you couldn’t be sure. His tongue slowly slid down to your entrance, lazily lapping up your cum before he sat up on shaky knees, pupils blown out, cheeks pink.

His lips were shining in the low light, and he was quick to lick them, as if he needed to swallow every last drop of you, like it was some precious nectar. The kind that someone only got to taste once in a lifetime. After he had finally caught his breath he laid down next to you, hanging one of his arms over the side of the bed as he stared at your face. His eyes were impossibly soft, his face still wet with tears. “I love seein’ you like this.” His voice was gruff, thick with lust and something else. Something even more beautiful. “What? All sweaty and quiverin’?” You attempted to tease, but you were still breathing too hard for the joke to really land. “No. . . no-” he raised a hand up, pushing your hair off of your forehead.

“I love seeing you in love with me.”

check out the third chapter of this story !

@bookklover23 @medleyj @idkwhattthisisss @dharnwjs @slutforsomegoodlettuce @crackerbarrelslut @macey234 @nightfiress @keepdrivingrr @melodydior @luvvrrrrr @mymamalife @wwebby657 @shynovelist @ssstrangersblog

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lustnhim · 7 days

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elvis backstage on the steve allen show (1956) 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

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sissylittlefeather · 2 months

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@atleastpleasetelephone Hey friend!! Thank you so much!!! You sure can have some smut 😏. I hope you enjoy this filthy little ficlet.

Daddy Likes His Coat

Warnings: 18+ MINORS NO. DNI. Kissing, cussing, masturbation (f & m), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex

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You've been with Elvis for almost a year now, and he knows how you can get sometimes, especially after a good show. So when you're getting on the plane and you grab his hand and pull him to you, he's not surprised to hear what you whisper in his ear.

"I need you..." He smiles, but shakes his head genially.

"No, baby, there's too many people on the plane tonight." You pout as you make your way to your seats. He goes all the way to the back by the bathroom.

"See! The bathroom is right there!" You're seated across from him facing him and the back of the plane. The charter plane is small, but big enough for there to be no one directly next to the two of you. Everyone else is in front of you. You stick your bottom lip out and beg. "Pleaseeee."

"Baby. No. Maybe when we land." He leans across to pat your knee and pulls out a book and starts to read. You look out the window for a bit and then get an idea. He doesn't even notice you wiggling in your seat.

All of a sudden something lands on his book right in the middle of where he was reading. He looks at it puzzled and then goes to pick it up. That's when he realizes it's your white lace panties in his hand. He looks up at you quickly and shuts his book, your panties still clutched in his fist. He has a devilish glint in his eyes.

"Honey, what-"

You spread your legs slowly, giving him a full view of your pussy under your short skirt. His eyes widen.

"What are you...?"

He trails off as you lick your fingers and move them down to your core. His mouth drops open a little as you begin to rub circles on yourself, biting your bottom lip to keep from moaning. You roll your hips forward into your hand.

"Mmm." He groans quietly and reaches forward to touch you. You use your knee to push his hand to the side.

"Uh-uh. You said there's too many people on the plane."

"Baby, please."

"Touch yourself, since that's what you made me do." He sighs deeply.

"You're a pain in the ass, sweetheart. You know that?"

"You love me." You close your eyes and moan softly as you slide a finger into yourself, pumping it in and out.

"God, I really do." His eyes are glued to what your hands are doing. He swallows hard and then stands up as much as he can in the small plane, yanking his jacket off. He sits back down and folds it and holds it in his lap, his hands buried somewhere underneath. You know him well enough to know that he's currently freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. A smirk crosses your lips as you watch him begin to stroke himself under his jacket, trying desperately not to react with his face.

"Shittt." He hisses and you quickly pull your hands back and close your legs as a stewardess walks over to you both.

"Mr. Presley, would you care for some water?" He's stopped moving, but his hand is still under his coat.

"Nope. Not tonight." He answers with a strained smile.

"Do you need anything?"

"Not anything you can give me. Thanks." She looks at him with a confused expression and then turns to walk back up the aisle, smiling at you as she passes.

"You're gonna be the death of me, doll." He goes back to moving his hand under his jacket. "Mm. C'mon honey, lemme see ya again."

You consider saying no, just to tease him, but you're too turned on to stop, so you spread your legs again and let your fingers trail down your front back to your center.

"There ya go, baby." He groans a little louder than he probably should. You have on a tank top with no bra under your coat, so you open it and pull your top down to give him a glimpse of your nipple.

"Mmm, that's so mean, baby."

"As mean as this?" You answer breathlessly as you move your fingers even faster over your clit bringing yourself to a very obvious orgasm. The waves of electric pleasure crest and break as your climax rushes through you. You bite your lip again and moan quietly and your hips buck while your eyes close. The image of you making yourself cum almost drives him over the edge.

"Goddamnit, woman."

He begins to pump himself faster, no longer trying to hide his facial expressions as his hand moves up and down his rock hard cock. He closes his eyes and makes a face that you recognize.

"Gonna make me ruin my coat, doll."

"That's right, daddy, cum for baby." Suddenly, he shakes his head and opens his eyes.

"No. I'm cumming inside you. That pussy is mine." He reaches forward with his free hand and grabs your arm dragging you into his lap. Everyone on the plane very clearly hears exactly what he says, but he no longer cares. You giggle as he slides you onto his dick and groans loudly.

"I thought there were too many people-"

"I don't give a fuck. Bounce." He lifts you by the waist and you move up and down on him. It only takes a few times before you feel him tense and buck up into you, filling you with his hot release.

"Oh, god, baby, yes." He moans as he shudders and relaxes. You feel his arms wrap around you and he leans against the back of your neck. "Fuck, honey, I love you."

He lifts you off of himself and pulls your skirt down, handing you your panties to put back on.

"I love you too." You lean in and kiss him gently and then turn to go back to your seat. He slaps your ass as he puts himself away. Bending down, you hand him his book from where it slid onto the floor during your activities. He spends the rest of the flight reading and you look out the window, fully satisfied.

The plane lands and you all make your way off. As you do, Joe looks at Elvis with his eyebrows raised. Elvis shakes his head quizzically.

"What? I really like this coat."

******

The End

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfic #reader requests

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surferblues · 2 years

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cherry red blow ! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

dilfelvis! austin butler x fem! reader

notes if you have a problem with 5-10 year age gaps , do not read 😵‍💫 because when i say i like dilfs... i mean DILFS

warnings smut (18+ only, minors dni), unprotected sex, intoxication, dom! elvis, praise, p in v, unestablished relationship, implied age gap, spelling errors, and obviously sexual themes.

Elvis knew who you were. Hell, all he could think about was you. He wasn't the one to get caught up with one girl, he was the type of guy who would sleep with any woman who offered .

And he was Elvis Presley, he could sleep with any woman if he could - all, but you.

He knew best to not fall under the impression you wanted him, that you were doing all that dressing up for him. You were a nanny hired by Priscilla, you made it clear the first day you were hired that you had no ill intentions of ruining the Presley name.

The way you walked around his home with those satin little dresses that covered only so much. The way you covered your lips in that damn cherry red lipstick. He couldn't help to think you knew what you were doing.

You u loved your job. truly, there was good pay, you got on so well with the presley family, the house was big and luxurious. people would kill to be in the position you were in.

You did what you usually did in preparation of coming in for your job. You made sure every hair was in place, you made sure that your clothes came from the finest sellers, and your lips always were layered in that cherry red lipstick.

You had been hired by Priscilla, her hopes of hiring a nanny to watch Lisa from time to time so Elvis and herself could rekindle the faded spark in their relationship.

You had some knowledge of their difficulties of their relationships, as you got front row view to the arguments they shared every night Elvis came home drunk with a groupie under his arm.

The pills, Elvis never being home, and the women were just helping points on why Priscilla found it so difficult to be in a relationship with Elvis. So it was safe to say you weren't surprised when Priscilla packed up her things and left Elvis, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

A part of you was relieved when you found out Elvis was a single man, another part of you was worried about it. Elvis always made it clear he went for younger girls, and with the ten year age gap between the two of you - you knew he had to think of you in such a dirty way.

it started off as a little crush, but you never pursued in actually doing anything with the older man in fear of risking your job. he was smart, and you assumed he wouldn’t ever go for the nanny of his daughter .

that was until you’d catch him eyeing your cherry glazed lips, the subtle touches near your hips when he would pass by you, and clever flirty comments began to slip out of his mouth.

something in your dynamic just... shifted.

it was one night when he arrived home from a long night of partying, and Lisa Marie was sound asleep in bed — he’d find you with a halfway full bottle of wine in your grasp.

your cheeks flushed, your words sloppily said.

"you've been out all night mr. presley."You giggled with a rasp, your eyes look over towards the door where the man stood, the slam of the front door indicating he just got to Graceland.

you took in his appearance as he came into eye view. the dark messy hair that was messy just in the perfect way, the way his tan chest peeked from the behind the white button up that was unbuttoned slightly, bloodshot eyes indicating that he may have partied a bit too hard.

just as you took him in, he took in the sight of you. your red lipstick smeared from your lips ever so slightly, your hair tousled, and the straps of your little dress falling off your shoulders as your back rested the marble table that stood in the middle of the fancy kitchen.

he began walking towards the small island where you stood, your eyes following every move he made.

"wasn't today your day off, darlin'?" he questioned curiously with that thick country twang, letting out a breathless shot of laughter before looking towards the direction where you were. "priscilla asked to me watch Lisa, she had some plans." you admitted.

he walked towards the the wooden cabinet where he kept his liquor, grabbing a empty small glass and a much larger glass full of burning liquor.

some part of you was telling you two remove yourself from the room, get as far away from Elvis as you could - but another part of you was screaming at you to stay, screaming at you to pursue your dangerous urges.

"If you prefer me to go, I can, Mr. Presley." You offered, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you watched Elvis's face for any sign of discomfort.

he stood on the other side of the kitchen island, his body standing right across from you.

you saw the way his jaw clenched at the way you said his name, but that happened everytime the simple saying slipped out of your mouth, "oh, mr. presley."

"no, no, the more the merrier." Elvis's slurred out, pouring a shot of whiskey in his glass, hesitation laced in his voice but he quickly covered it with a shaky scoff.

"you know, it's good to call me just elvis." he met your eyes, cooing out his words. the playful expression that was on his face moments ago replaced with a more hesitant one.

"good for you or good for me?" you murmured out, your lips quirking up so riskily and daringly.

you were writing out a check you couldn't cash.

"it would save us from a whole 'lotta trouble." he raised his brows and tilted his head with a careless shrug, bringing the glass of liquor to his lips. his Adam's apple bobbing as the stinging liquid entered his body.

"trouble? i thought you liked trouble, mr. presley." you cocked your head, your words rolling off of your tounge so surely. you began readjusting your hips, the end of your satin dress riding up with every move you made.

he couldn't read the expression sprawled on your face, but you sure as hell could read his. his knitted brows, his eyes looking at you so intensely... reading you for any source of confirmation that the sinful thoughts in his head weren't only racing through his.

"i like a lot of things, sweetheart." elvis chuckled, setting down the glass of dark liqueur. his eyes taking a quick peek on the dress that was now bunched on your hips - a momentarily peek, a peek that was so quick that he was sure you wouldn't have saw.

"yeah?" you purred, deciding to be the one to make the first move out of the unspoken need you two shared. you decided to grab the glass he sat down moments ago and bring it your lips, the liquor was strong but you wouldn't show him that.

"uh, y... yeah." elvis choked out, clearing his throat as he felt sudden pressure on his cock. "good things cause a lot of trouble." he purred sinfully, he knew what your intentions were, he knew he wasn't reading this situation wrong... the next move was up to him.

he quickly recovered, shaking off the flustered state you put him in and returning to his cocky self. "good girl's, cause a lot of trouble." he teased in a readily manner, he lustfully over where you stood, watching you with nothing but pure amusement.

"oh, mr. Presley, kill me if im wrong. but i would assume your saying im a good girl?" you cooed, you quirked one of your brows, questioning the man infront of you. you sat your body on the counter, legs dangling as you looked at him curiously.

"isn't that you call a pretty little thing such as yourself, a good girl?" he rasped it so readily, his feet moved him few inches, just so he could stand in between your legs and look at your face.

your chest rose up and down in a needy way, your eyes watching the way his slowly wandered towards your bare hips. "i can be whatever your want, mr. presley." you handed him back his glass of liquor, a barely visible coat of cherry red lip stick on the rim of the glass.

"you’re gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?" he purred as he nodded, grabbing the glass from you, but never did he dare to look away from you. keeping his eyes on you as you felt his finger tips tap your soft thighs. those three taps, gesturing for you to open your legs so he could stand in between them.

and you listened, never did you hesitate. he looked down at your parted legs, oh god, how many times has he thought about this exact moment. he didn't know where to start, he just knew by before the night was over he would have kissed every inch of your body.

"how do you want me, baby?" one of his rough hands gently squeezed your hips, while the other finally began reaching the soaking lace panties that covered your pussy.

you felt his duo of fingers applying light pressure to your clit, causing a shaky whimper to leave your mouth.

"i... i just, " you trailed off, you looked down to see his hardened cock poking through his leather pants - you took a peek, a peek so quick you thought he wouldn't even notice.

"just need you inside me, mr. presley." you whimpered, rolling your hips up towards where he needed attention from you most - causing breathy moans to slip from his and your lips as you felt his needy dick rub you through your lace panties.

"that'ta girl." Elvis teased, he began slipping the wet pink lace off, a cocky smirk on his lips as he pickpocketing them. your hands traveled towards the zipper of his black leather pants, the sound of the zipper unzipping could be heard alongside your's and Elvis's needy breaths.

"so eager, baby?" he chuckled, the sound of the leather dropping to the floor - and just as quick as his pants were off, so were his boxers. there was nothing holding him back from fucking you.

precum on the tip of his hard dick, his body telling him he needed this more than anything.

" y'look so pretty like this, mama." he breathily cooed against your neck, placing sloppy kisses all over your collar bones as you and him were chest to chest. you felt his hand gently hover over your lower abdomen, pressing ever so gentle - leaving you slightly confused.

his dick began grazing over the slit of your pussy, his precum mixing with the wetness of your pussy his words he squeezed out of you. your hands gripped his shoulders, getting yourself ready and steady.

he then lined his dick with your hole, he looked at you for confirmation. you nodded readily and quickly, moving your hips that he had been gripping up a few inches. "please." you whimpered, his tip in your hole, you just needed him to completely to enter you.

and as soon as you whimpered, you felt his dick slowly filling you up. his dick was bigger than any other dick that had entered your body before. you felt your walls tighten around him, your nails burying into his shoulders as his hands squeezed your hips.

"pussy was made for me." he didn't move, letting your needy hole get used to the feeling as you both let out incoherent whimpers. his eyes squeezed shut, head buried in your shoulder, and hot and heavy breaths following.

his dick hadn't left your hole all the way when he then snapped his hips into yours, taking you by surprise as you felt his hand lift your thigh around his waist - hoping to get access to the spot that would drive insane even if he slightly grazed over it.

he set a harsh but slow pace, each thrust was better than the other. you felt yourself subconsciously rocking against his, breathy whimpers and moans slipping from his mouth was only encouraging you to continue.

He was making you feel so good, like you expected him to. His dick seemed to be made for you, all of its veins and curves hitting the right spots inside you.

you felt his hand pressed against your lower abdomen again, but this you felt something else other than his hand.

he wanted you to feel him, inside and out. so you saw the bulge of his dick with each time he slammed into you, you could basically feel that familiar Spring coil form.

"s... so damn.. " he cut him self off with a harsh thrust in your pussy, causing you to let out a high pitched moan. " tight, just for ... me."

and just if you thought that was too much, you felt his fingers press against your swollen button. pressing and tracing circles around your wet clit as his dick dipped in and out.

This pleasure filled encounter couldn’t last forever, even if you wished it could. Soon enough your walls began to clench around him, making his thrust slow down to enjoy the way you squeezed. He was choking out moans into your ear, his voice raspy and shaky.

"elvis... m'close." you whimpered shakily, his hands guiding your hips as you felt his dick pulse, the familiar feeling of your pussy getting sensitive with each time his fingers and dick did their most.

and he made sure to touch that g spot, pushing his dick into so deep that you were sure to cum any moment. "fuck!" you breathlessly moaned, everything around you went hot when his dick hit that spongy spot.

"that'ta girl." he pressing down lightly on your lower stomach so you really felt him whilst shushing you.

it was like all of the juices you had been collecting had finally released just by his dick grazing that sweet spot, your vision went white, and your body jerked into his - his arm wrapped against your body, hugging against you as he rode out his high.

you could hear the sound of yours and Elvis's cum mixing, the shaky pants you two shared, something you would never forget.

tag list . . . !

@marinarose12 @rysssaa @domaniquessidehoe @wistoric @givemehickeysplease @mr-aurum @feral4austinbutler @pandora-journey @kissingrhi @ash-omalley @queendelrey @heartsbomb @djarinlgc @austinbutler4life @adoreyouusugar

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starryschoolgirl · 7 months

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Just A Man

| A Soldier's Song Installment |

Summary -> As the weeks leading up to Elvis' deployment to Europe begin to dwindle you and Elvis try to help your son understand what it will mean. Meanwhile, inevitable tensions between you and Elvis are pushed to the side as the two of you figure sex is better than facing your issues, especially with such little time left together.

Warnings -> mention of family death, domestic fluff, flirting, mention of war, pre-deployment, Elvis being a young dad & husband, (much needed) sex with 50s Elvis, angsty undertones, smut, kitchen sex, swearing, foot kink, stocking kink, almost footjob(?), breeding kink, oral (f. receiving), unsafe sex

WC -> 5.8k

A/N -> So this is more of a prologue to the actual events of which this au series is based upon, to sort of give a glance into what life was like before Elvis gets deployed to Europe, I hope you enjoy it! In the next installment, we WILL see Elvis in uniform. This is an installation of the A Soldier's Song AU

“That one made my hand hurt Frankie!”

The little boy giggled at his daddy’s shocked face.

That battering of a baseball against a leather mitt is all that kept you company on the back porch of your home. Watching the two boys, your two boys, in the yard tossing the ball back and forth puts a smile on your face, but as you turn your head to the empty chair next to you that smile falls ever so slightly, missing the warmth that often emanated from that chair.

Elvis had been at basic training when she passed and was only able to make it back in time for her funeral, but even then while you were a wreck he remained as strong as he could. He held you in one arm and held your little boy in the other as the service proceeded.

You’d only had two grief-filled days with him before he went back to finish his basic training, you couldn’t even figure out whether or not he’d really come to terms with his mama because it all happened so fast. And now you’d only have a few final weeks with your man, all crisp and in shape from basic training, till he was off to a poor war-stricken country in Europe.

With that in mind you remembered to smile, in the knick of time too as Elvis looked up at you after running to pick up the stray ball that had rolled along the grass toward the porch due to your little boy’s poor aim.

He stared up at you like the school boy he used to be, and said with that tone of voice you’d often heard since he first laid eyes on you, “Hey there Cutie”

And like the school girl you used to be, you’d blush and only offer a small smile as you waved him off, “Go play with your son”

Elvis gave you that look, he wanted to say something he couldn’t say in front of young ears. He got up, ball in one hand while he wore his leather brown mitt on the other, with each step up the wood porch his smile grew, you could feel his curled lips on your cheek as he leaned down to kiss it.

Then quietly he’d murmur in a cooing, baby-talk type tone,

“Daddy wants to play with Mama though”

You rolled your eyes and put a placating hand on his clean-shaven cheek. After leaning forward to press a quick peck to his lips you spoke quietly with that same baby-talk curve to your voice,

“Daddy can play with Mama when Baby goes to bed”

Elvis smiled softly at you and mumbled out a soft and assured, “Alright”, before stepping away to go back down onto the grass, giving Francis, or as Elvis nicknamed him, Frankie, an underhanded toss of the ball.

You turned one last time to the other chair and the empty cushion on it, you couldn’t look at it anymore. Thankfully you were needed elsewhere as you could smell the roast in the oven drift through the window of the kitchen out onto the porch.

After going inside as you tended to the food you could watch Francis and Elvis play about in the yard, it was quite big, but the two of them only remained within a small portion, part of the reason could’ve been because Francis couldn’t yet throw very far.

The sun was setting and the light practically flickered off of Elvis’ hair. Now being in the army he didn’t bother with that black dye, it would just be washed out as soon as he was back at base after all. And it wasn’t like he’d be making movies or releasing songs anytime soon, no not with what he was on his way to do in a few weeks.

You could just barely hear Elvis’ voice as he praised your son, “Frank my boy you might be the Babe Ruth of your generation if ya keep at it”. You couldn’t help but shake your head with a smile, Elvis talking to Francis as if the four-year-old knew who the Babe was and as if he knew what the word “generation” meant.

It was in Elvis’ nature to talk to children in that way though. He always treated them like little adults. You couldn’t recall a time when Elvis didn’t speak to children that way. His mama had made fun of him for it when Francis was two and he could only remark, “Frank is just people, like you and me are just people”

Oh goodness, you thought of her again.

You don’t think a day goes by when you don’t think about her. Elvis’ mama was a godsend, truly. And while he’d never open up about it, you know it’s affecting Elvis immensely. She was so involved in your life ever since you entered Elvis’ and she was always sweet and welcoming.

You could think back to a time not too long ago when after you’d eloped with Elvis and announced the news of your pregnancy at the young age of 18, your parents kicked you to the curb, but she welcomed you with open arms.

At the time Elvis was still driving a truck he hadn’t yet become the “movie star” that he was now. But despite the financial struggles of her Presley flock, Gladys happily welcomed another bird.

It was just a few months ago, before the whole fiasco of Elvis getting drafted and sent off to basic that you’d had a conversation with her in this very kitchen about that.

You told her how appreciative you’d always be toward her for being so welcoming to you, and she told you with an arm around your shoulder, “I’m a mother Hon, it’s only natural. The two of you were babies when ya had that itty bitty boy of yours, I couldn’t ever leave y’all out in the rain, you know that”

You knew no matter what Elvis would have stuck beside you, you knew he’d always be there to hold your hand. After all, you were mothering his child. But it helped so much more that his mother would be on the other side of you, holding your other hand to help you in whatever way you would allow.

Things were slowly returning to normal within the home, her lack of presence isn’t as pronounced, but that’s because she lives through memory now as more time passes, it’s almost like she’s not gone.

You hope that’s how Elvis viewed it. His stone face didn’t leave any slack for a crack or two, and for once it was getting hard to read him. But you’d continue to hope that it isn’t a facade and that he is okay. Yeah, you’d hope with all your might that your man was doing okay.

-----

Dinner was quiet, whenever your voice, or Elvis’ voice, or Francis’ voice didn’t fill the air, love would keep you all company. Of course as always Elvis got on Francis about playing with his food, having grown up poor Elvis was more sensitive to matters of waste such as that.

But if that was the stress high-point of the evening, then you could call it a good evening.

And as you now sat on the edge of the bed, a hand on Francis’ blanket-covered knee while Elvis kneeled on the floor next to the short, small children’s bed, you had a soft smile play on your lips as Elvis talked on the subject of him leaving in a few weeks.

Elvis and you had been explaining night after night to Francis what would soon happen, why his daddy would be going away for a while and what would happen after. After talking about it quite a bit within the first month of knowing about Elvis’ draft you and he decided it was best to be very open on the subject to make it less daunting when Elvis suddenly left home.

And after Gladys’ death you had to explain to Francis that his daddy’s absence would be different from his grandmother’s absence.

“Ya g-gonna fight bad guys Daddy?”

Elvis smiled and brought his hands up in fists, then with a few shadow-box moves which made Francis laugh, Elvis assured,

“You betcha, gonna give the bad guys one of these! And one of these!”

The little boy laughed, his laugh too big for his body as he bent over on the bed and held onto your arm with both his little hands.

After his precious giggles subsided, Francis sat up and asked curiously, a glimmer of what must’ve been a child’s worry in his eyes as he asked with that stutter that his daddy used to have,

“W-what if the bad, bad guys hurt yo-you Dad-Daddy?”

Your smile fell slightly as you and Elvis made eye contact at the suggestion. Of course that is something that you and Elvis had been careful approaching when it came to explaining this sort of thing to Francis.

You couldn’t explain it without truly worrying the boy, you felt tears prickle your eyes at just the thought. Elvis knew of your worries, he knew that quite a few of the girls you were friends with down at the beauty parlor had husband’s overseas, and that a few of them had gotten the dreaded telegram, along with a folded American flag.

He knew all too well your worries as he’d spent many nights being the one to soothe you back to bed. When he’d feign sleep even though he knew you’d spend mornings staring at him, just wanting to look at him as if you would soon lose this view.

Of course if he had died at war it might be different. Having been in a few films and sung a few hit records, he feared that if he died you might find out about his death through the newspapers. You would either find out through that, or as Elvis heard, on rare special occasions they’d send something much more personal, they’d send chaplains and military officers to tell the grieving widow in person.

Elvis hoped if he died he’d be that special occasion, that way you wouldn’t be alone when you heard about his death, the same way you were alone when you saw his mother in her state of death.

“Well,”

He started before getting up, and sitting next to you on the bed. He wrapped an arm around your waist and reached a hand out to rest atop yours which rested on Francis’ knee.

“Listen buddy, that sort of thing might happen, but ya don’t gotta worry. Your daddy’s strong, and he’s gonna get home to you and Mama. He promises.”

Your lip quivered as you tried to smile. Elvis could feel the way your hand tensed under his, he quickly pressed a kiss to your cheek and mumbled quietly for his little family to hear,

“And ya know I’m not a liar, I wouldn’t piss on ya leg and tell ya it’s rainin’ now would I?”

You abruptly turned your head toward Elvis’ crude analogy and hit his shoulder lightly making him laugh as Francis giggled at his daddy using a “nasty” word.

As Elvis laughed he stood up and pulled you with him, leaving enough time for you to kiss Francis goodnight before taking you with just a tug of his arm around your hip.

As you reached for the lamp next to your son’s bed your spoke softly,

“Get a good sleep Frannie”

Once you and Elvis were making your way out of the room he teased you softly with his hand still resting at your hip, “Wish ya would stop callin’ him such a girly name, his name’s Francis”

As soon as you closed the door you laughed softly and pointed out, “So he’s Francis when I call him Frannie but he’s not Francis when you call him Frankie?”

Elvis shrugged and popped out a “yup” as he guided you down the hall. Just before reaching the bedroom you told him you remembered you still had some dishes to do and made a B-line to the staircase to head toward the kitchen.

After getting down there and getting the dishes loaded you found yourself standing in front of the sink, staring down at the soapy dishwater with not a thought in mind.

It was Elvis’ voice that pulled you from your trance as he spoke, “Baby?”

You jumped slightly and turned around to see Elvis throwing you a confused half-smile, his red shirt from earlier was off and he was left in just black trousers and his wedding ring. There was a dampened towel on his shoulders, the tips of his hair were slightly wet, likely from having just washed his face.

You sighed softly with a smile at the sight, “I’ll be up in a minute Handsome, just getting some things done”.

Elvis’ neck stretched slightly as he saw the dishes were washed and now laid on the drying rack, he then turned toward the stove to see that the leftovers were put away. You didn’t have anything to do.

He took a few steps forward, till he could comfortably rest his hands at your hips.

“Looks to me like everythin’s been done, why don’tcha head upstairs with me?”

You took a moment to look around and realized he was right, quick on your feet you slid away from his hands and walked over to the oven and opened it, you gestured a hand toward the inside,

“I haven’t cleaned the oven out yet”

Elvis’ eyebrows furrowed as he shook head and mumbled with a hand on his hip,

“Honey, ya never clean the oven out till the 1st of the month, I mean unless things have changed that much since I’ve been at basic…”

You sighed softly. As you gently closed the oven door Elvis walked over to you with a small frown, his hands finding their place at your hips once again as he asked,

“What’s goin’ on Genevieve?”

You bit your lower lip softly, whenever Elvis called you by your name you knew he was serious, there was no wiggling your way out of it, especially now that he had you pressed back against a kitchen counter, his hands gripping your hips with resolution and a look in his eyes that told you he wasn’t letting you go without a fight.

With a shake of your head you looked away from Elvis, suddenly deeming the drying rack a few feet away to be a better view than your half-naked husband. Elvis’ head followed your gaze and suddenly it was him you were looking at again.

“I just, I wish you would stop doing that…”

Elvis looked confused as he ran a hand through his uncombed hair. He really looked different from a few months ago, his jaw was sharp and his cheeks sort of caved in, but not in the way a waif’s would. His hair was a crisp, fall-ish brown, and his body was cut in a way that felt a little foreign.

While he was naturally slim and tall, he was usually still soft and smooth around the edges. You’d realized his first night back from basic that his body was more sharp and angular, and you worried they weren’t feeding him properly. But as he’d been home a week or two now, his body remained sharp and cut, and now your worries were on your own lacking areas, you knew your food couldn’t replace his mama’s but you’d swear if his mama were here, he’d be back to his soft and squishy self.

“Stop doin’ what Hon?”

As your eyes lingered over his body more you’d completely forgotten what you’d first been talking about as you changed the subject by asking, “Are you still hungry?”

Elvis laughed softly and titled his head to the side, “What are ya talkin’ about?”

Your lower lip quivered in worry and concern, it seems all the dulled emotions you’d been feeling lately came together to overpower your own emotional maturity as your lip wobbled pathetically. As Elvis saw the sight his smile fell and his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he bent down slightly to look you head on. “Oh, Baby, now,” He cupped your cheeks with his hands to keep you from turning away from him.

There was a soft incredulous laugh that left his lips, “Why are ya cryin?”

As Elvis pulled you close to him, you could feel his body shake with each laugh that left his lips, you knew what he was thinking, it was what he always thought (and sometimes said) whenever you started crying, it was-

“You women and your emotions…”

And just as you would everytime, you’d hit his chest with all your might (which would only evoke another laugh at your pitiful effort) and mumble into his chest wetly, “Stop laughing at me Elvis Aaron Presley.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t laugh anymore Mama, now what was it you wish I would stop doin?”

Your arms around his waist tightened slightly as you thought back to the original topic of discussion. Elvis gave you a moment as he rubbed his chin along the top of your head, ruffling your hair in doing so, but you didn’t care enough to mind.

“I just wish you would stop pretending you’re this indestructible force Elvis.”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke,

“Well, I gotta make sure my son knows there ain’t a man better than his Daddy, ya know that Hon”

With a soft sigh you pulled back enough to look Elvis in the eye while your arms remained around his waist.

“I’m talking about with me, Elvis. You do that same thing with me that you do with Francis. You talk to me like I’m a child- Like, like I don’t know what you’re going into, like I haven’t been reading the papers”

Elvis’ smile flatlined as he listened to your words. You continued on.

“I’m your wife Elvis, I know that you’re not some indestructible being.”

As Elvis' eyes lingered away from yours, you placed a hand on his cheek to regain his attention as you could tell he was searching for ways to change the conversation.

“You’re just a man Elvis”

There’s his way out. Elvis bit his lower lip before breaking into a smile as he stared down at you. His hands that were wrapped around your waist fell down to each globe of your ass, giving you a soft squeeze through the fabric of your dress. The abruptness of the action caught your attention as your eyebrow lifted in suspicion and confusion at what he was doing.

Here you were pouring your heart out and he-

“Well, I can admit I am just a man, and a man’s got needs ya know?”

He had a boyish smile on his lips as he said the last part quietly, as if he were a child trying to tempt his mother into letting him get his favorite piece of candy. You knew how this would go, it would go as it always did. You and Elvis would avoid this topic and go on to avoid a few other topics, then in a few weeks or a month you and him would get into a huge argument of all the topics combined just to kiss and make up.

It’s happened often within your relationship, hell, you and him hadn’t fought the entirety of your pregnancy with Francis and on the day your water broke, all hell broke with it as you and Elvis got into a huge argument. You almost gave birth in the house because you refused to have him be the one to drive you to the hospital.

But that would be fine for now, especially when he smiled down at you the way he was now.

Your previous pure look of concern had washed away with a defeated smile as his hands continued to knead the flesh of your ass like dough and his smile only dug into his cheeks further, almost bringing back that full look of them.

With a fond tinge to it, you sighed out,

“You really are just a man”

He brought his nose down to nuzzle against your cheek before pressing his lips against the soft skin, murmuring, “Your man”

“Mhm, my man”

You began to giggle at the ticklish sensation of his lips dragging from your cheek down along the sensitive skin of your neck. You tried tucking your chin into your neck as you continued to let you squealed laughs.

Elvis let out a soft playful growl as he spoke into the skin,

“Flutterin’ around like a bird”

To stop your incessant wiggling Elvis tightened his arms around your waist, his nose changed locations from the crook of your neck to the dip of your collarbone till it landed in the deep neckline of your dress, snug between your breasts as he nuzzled himself into the skin, trying to get a whiff of you in your purest form.

The smell of you at the end of the day, the light scent of your perfume that somehow lingered late in the day mixed with whatever sweat had tried to grace your body, it was a smell he couldn’t get enough of.

His lips began to press gentle little kisses at the inside of both your breasts as he tugged at the neckline a bit more, trying to give himself more ground to cover with his lips. You laughed softly and buried your hands in his brown locks as you pressed numerous kisses atop his head.

You could hear him mumble where his head was buried between your breasts,

“Mm kiss me Baby…”

You laughed softly and between pecks on his forehead said, “That’s what I’m doin’”

He finally came up, his eyes lidded slightly as he murmured, “I mean really kiss me”, before kissing you with the same lips he just worshiped the skin of your tits with.

You hummed into the kiss with delighted surprise at the hungry tenderness of it all as Elvis’ body backed you completely against the kitchen counter. He felt around blindly for the counter behind you as he refused to break the kiss and then with two gentle pats to the back of your thighs you jumped up just slightly for him to pick you up by the thighs and push you onto the counter.

Elvis’ hands quickly worked the fabric of your dress, tugging it up till it pooled around your waist and as he pulled away from the kiss to look down between the two of you he was left with the sight of your legs, almost completely bare except for your seamed stockings that ended at your thighs and were held up by the garters connected to your panties.

His hands glided along the thin fabric of your stockings along your calves and thighs, he loved how they felt. You couldn’t help your smile as he admired you. When he stepped back he could pull one of your legs up nice and high so that he could see the seams on the back of your stockings that ran up your legs, giving the illusion that you had much longer legs than you really did.

All his focus was on that leg that he had stretched above your head, pointed to the heavens as he stared with admiration. You, his own point of interest, had betrayed him as your other lonely leg that dangled from the counter stretched forward to dig lightly at the bulge beginning to form in Elvis’ black trousers. Elvis’ brows creased and his eyes closed as his mouth opened to let out a low, heavy breath.

“Oh, Mama…”

Elvis’ grip that held your foot high had loosened at the undoing of his usually calm and collective nature within the act. “Mhm?” You took the opportunity and brought your other foot down to join in on the pushes and presses of your feet into the growing bulge.

He only repeated with a breathy, more defeated voice,

“Oh… Mama…”

His head fell back slightly and his legs looked to be going a little slack, knees bending in the slightest as his hips pushed into the pressure of your feet.

It was only when you attempted to dig your foot’s heel into Elvis’ groin did he make a move, spreading your legs apart and pushing his way between them with an eagerness. His hands were quick as he unclipped your garters, followed by the rough yanking of your stockings off your legs. You were thankful you had stabilized yourself onto the counter with your hands otherwise he might’ve yanked you off it right along with your stockings.

You figured you’d help him as you lifted your ass up and began to shimmy your panties off, having to bite your lip to keep back from whining at the cold slap of the counter against your thighs and warmed heat. As Elvis turned to look at you, his mouth was left slightly agape, he could never get used to the image of his wife being all pliant and pretty for him.

The men he used to work with as a young truck driver told him to never get married to a girl he liked, because when women became wives they lost their appeal, they became prudent and too good for casual sex with their husband. Oh how wrong those men were.

“Spread ‘em f’me Hon”

You obeyed as you watched Elvis kneel down, he had enough height on him to where even kneeling down he could easily be face to face with your bare cunt as you sat on the edge of the counter.

From below he made eye contact with you again and murmured,

“Spread those as well Baby”

You let out a breath at his words, feeling a heat spread from your chest up your neck from the embarrassment of where he was referring, but you’d listen. Your hand hesitantly danced down your body before landing at your cunt, and with a soft, wet sound, your pointer and index finger spread the lips of your pussy apart, giving way for Elvis to see the white discharge that was just edging out of your entrance, you had practically sprung a leak down there.

“You’re so pretty Baby…”

He looked up at you to make sure you knew it before steadying himself by gripping the sides of your thighs before pressing his head further between your legs. His aquiline nose ran along your core before anything else, but his tongue and lips were quick to follow as he licked a stripe up the center.

You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling and tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling, the blank ceiling, boring enough for you to be able to focus entirely on the sensations Elvis was filling your body with.

As his tongue poked and prodded at your entrance you let out a cacophony of back-to-back breaths. As he moved his lips lower, his tongue now scraping along that gap of skin between both your holes, his nose was enveloped entirely by your entrance, and you could feel it inside of you.

Then his fingers on one hand reached toward that little nub of nerves that rested atop your pussy like a pretty bow, and like an expert he could easily undo that bow with the twists and turns of his index and middle finger.

That is what made you squirm and squeak, hushing out a high-pitched,

“Elvis..!”

His answer was a hungry hum which only pushed you even further as the low baritone of his hum reverberated in your pussy. “E-Elvis..!”

Your hands burrowed greedily into his hair as you contradicted yourself, while you made it seem like you wanted him off you, you only pushed his nose further and further into your entrance, you might suffocate him at this point. It was as if his life was in the hands of whether or not he could make you come.

You attempted to drive your hips further into his mouth as he pulled you closer with that hand still gripping your thigh.

As his fingers strummed your clit like the strings to a guitar your breathing got uneven as you felt the incoming of those waves of pleasure that only your very own husband could pull from you.

He groaned loudly into your heat as your grip on his hair became painful to the man bearing it, but he’d continue on till he got you to your release.

“Oh fuck Elvis..! I’m, I’m…”

Your hands entangled in his hair began to drive his head completely home as you let out a guttural moan, the pleased pitch cutting off as you’d reached the peak of your pleasure.

Your entire body felt limp, not even having enough strength in your hands to continue holding onto his hair. Elvis’ head remained tucked away long enough for your dress to fall over onto his head and hide him away as he finally pulled away for air.

You watched with tired eyes as his hands came up to pull the fabric off his head, he had the biggest lazy smile gracing his lips as he looked up at you, and for a moment you had a hard time deciphering whether or not the dampness on his face came from his sweat or your own pleasure, you settled on it being a mix.

“I make ya feel good Honey? Played with Mama just right, hm?”

He slowly stood up and brought the fabric of the dress up with him.

“You always do Elvis,”

He hummed with a smile and brought the wrung up fabric to your mouth with one hand and tugged your chin down with the other, leaving room for him to set the fabric between your lips for you to bite down on.

“Good, now, you’re gonna help Daddy feel good too now right? Gonna sit still f’me right?”

You hummed, “Mhm”, feeling eager to please the man after the trip he just sent you on. Elvis smiled down at you as he watched you hold the fabric between your teeth.

The fumbling of Elvis’ hands undoing his trousers was momentary as he’d become a bit of an expert at undoing his pants in the years you two have been married. You watched with blown out eyes as his dick shot up against his pubes and stomach as it was freed from the confines of Elvis’ pants and underwear.

Your legs were already spread and ready, your hole was already warmed up and loosened, you were his for the taking.

As Elvis took a step forward he tugged you just slightly closer to him before lining his uncut cock along your hole. Then he pushed in. His eyebrows creased from the pain of needing to be patient at this part, trying to find a good balance of needing to be watchful of your expression while wanting to watch as his foreskin begins to prematurely slide back before he’s even completely inside of your warm pussy.

“It’s goin’ in smooth Honey? N-no burn or anythin’ right Baby? I can keep goin’?”

You hummed out a quick, “Mhm”, with an eager nod of your head, and you could see the relief spread along his face at not needing to wait, because to be quite truthful he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

Elvis kept a hand on his base as he guided the rest in and when he was fully in, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, practically pulling you off the counter as he wanted to be as close to you as possible while he pressed kisses along your neck.

“Fuck Baby, feel so good,” He groaned softly as he pulled out slightly just to shove his way back in, eliciting a used squeak from you as he did so. “Think that I still haven’t broken ya in properly after bein’ at basic f’so long huh?”

You could only moan softly at his words as you kept the fabric of your dress clenched between your teeth. As he repeated a similar motion he mumbled into the skin of your neck,

“It’s alright Honey, we’ll make more room in there, make more room for a little one or two…”

You wiggled slightly only for his body to press impossibly closer as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Just need ya to sit” he pulled out just to harshly press back in, evoking a whimper from you, “still.”

Elvis’ thrusts became fuller and more drawn out with every second that passed and every moan that left your lips. He was a chatty lover, and while he liked to believe he was talking you through it all, it was really himself he was talking through the motions of sex. He had a strange anxiety when it came to sex that had only shown itself since his takeoff in the entertainment business.

“Gonna fill ya so full of me, gonna leave a piece of myself here to watch over ya Honey,”

Your noises continued to be muffled by the fabric that was becoming soaked in saliva from being kept in your mouth for so long.

The build-up of precum that had been filling your insides made for a wonderful lubricant, even better than your body’s natural one. Elvis’ hips continued to thrust roughly into you. As the speed doubled, even tripled, Elvis’ breaths and voice got raspy.

You were certain he’d bruised your cervix by now, but the desperate rasp of his voice left you as gooey as your insides were.

“Shit, this is it..!”

Elvis buried face into your neck and you felt the heat of his breath sprawl across your skin as he groaned throatily. The animalistic, rhythmic pace of his hips dying down to slow downward grinds. He slurred out as he came down from that peak of pleasure,

“So good… So fucking good…”

Finally as his body came to a rest you spit out the fabric and inhaled as much air as possible through your mouth.

As Elvis geared himself to pull out, your arms wrapped around his neck abruptly as you held him close, mumbling a soft, “Don’t.” as you did so.

Elvis’ body felt stiff for a moment as he asked with hushed concern,

“W-why? Did I hurt ya Hon? You know you’re supposed to tell-”

You stopped his sentence short with a quiet,

“No, you didn’t hurt me. Just, wanna be with you a little longer. You don’t mind do ya?”

Elvis let out a breath of relief to hear that. He’d never want to hurt you. So in that moment of silence he held you close and buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting his nose linger on that pulse point that he watched you apply perfume on every morning for the past 4 years.

And you carded your fingers through his hair, kissing the skin of his head as a form of apology for how rough you were with it earlier.

His voice was like honey, sweet and thick as he assured,

“Of course not. I wanna be with you all the time, otherwise I wouldn't have married ya”

You smiled and remarked into his hair,

"Smartass..."

To which he fondly mumbled,

"Cutie"

This was more a passion piece, just because I really wanted to write something involving those pictures, seriously he's such a dad.

The masterlist will be posted and linked as soon as I get up from my nap! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!!

Taglist Lovelies: @suraemoon, @drtyelvisfantasy, @mydarlingelvis, @astral-eyed-cat, @lialocklear, @obsessedvibee, @sexystarfish, @everythingelvispresley, @thebardotreincarnate, @prettyprissyblvd

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jaqueline19997 · 4 months

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I love this man so much!!!! I feel like every day I love him just a little more!!!!❤️💓💞

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elvisabutler · 10 months

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primal

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x female reader word count: 2650 warnings: p in v sex ( unprotected ). very brief implied breastfeeding kink. breeding kink. pregnancy kink. housewife kink-ish. masturbation ( male ). masturbating while someone is asleep while next to them. mention of ovulation? i am unsure if i have much more to warn for. author’s note: welcome to day 9 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, breeding kink with big daddy elvis presley x reader. this also has like a smattering of housewife kink but it's kind of blink and you miss it. but i had fun writing this and honestly it flowed out of me but we all know that's what happens with breeding kink fics. consider the timeframe like 76/77? and apologies that i'm behind on this smut summer. this summer's just been a hot mess.

It started out innocent enough, with you playing with one of the boy's kids. Elvis can't remember whose if he's being honest with himself but it was his first glimpse as you as a mother beyond the times had been with Lisa. There was something different about this time, maybe it's how young the yittle baby was or maybe it's how you cuddled them close or how when you gave them back to their mama that your hand grazed your stomach in the most subtle of ways. The two of you had offhandedly talked about having children but never anything concrete beyond whispers of how he wanted to give Lisa a sibling and how you wanted a baby to call your own.

That night as you lay sleeping next to him, worn out from the day he can't help the way his mind wanders and thinks about the possibility of you pregnant with his child. Your hips were just the right size to hold a baby even as they'd expand outward just that little bit. His vision has you swollen with twins, he thinks, your belly swollen under a dress that stretches against your skin. There'd be no doubt who you belonged to and who put those big strong children inside of you. He can feel his cock starting to rise to the occasion, feel his foreskin retracting just that little bit as his cock swells. You'd be a good mother, taking care of the yittle ones and traveling with him with them. Your breasts would fill with milk he could suckle from before they were born and even after when they'd have their fill. He can't help the way his mind wanders and paints that picture of you pregnant that has his cock pressing against the underside of his stomach. His precum's already leaking damn near like a faucet and he needs relief in the form of his hand at the very least. With a hiss he pulls back his foreskin and takes himself in hand. The vision his mind gives him is one he thinks he might want to make a reality. You deserve to be a mother, deserve to be the mother of his little ones.

It doesn't take him long, stroking his cock and playing with the tip of it for him to start breathing heavy. He knows he needs to be quiet, knows you're a lighter sleeper than he ever has been but he can't help it. He can't help how much this is effecting him. This sort of desire has never been inside him, he's never craved having someone pregnant with his child and yet here he was with his cock in hand at the mere idea of you swollen with them. You're already a good enough housewife— not that he ever forced you to do it— but if you were pregnant you'd be the quintessential barefoot and pregnant wife. You'd be at home here in Graceland, belly rounded out helping Mary cook dinner. Or maybe you'd be at the International or on tour with him, craving him as much as he'd crave you like this, bouncing on his cock as best you could. A groan leaves his mouth unbidden and he moves the hand not on his cock to his mouth to stifle the noises he can't hold back and allows his mind to go through the possibilities. If he looks at your stomach right now hard enough he swears he can see the swell and without even trying to stop himself the hand that he had been biting down on goes to your stomach and rubs against it, picturing a time next year where his child would kick at his hand and you'd glare at him for waking them up only to tell him to rub your aching feet.

You shift in your sleep and Elvis takes his hand away like he's been burned even as he feels his orgasm hit him not unlike a freight train, forcing him to bite his lip as his release covers his hand and his legs. His post orgasm exhaustion starts to pull him into the warm embrace of sleep but he fights it just long enough to heave himself out of bed and to clean himself up. He wasted the come tonight but perhaps tomorrow night he can tell you what he wants. Yeah, he'll tell you what he wants then.

Life is busy when you're Elvis Presley though and he has to push the idea of telling you back another week before he even gets a spare moment with you awake with him to be able to even touch you. He's not much for planning, but he thought bringing this up to you would go better if he did plan for it. If he took you out to dinner and wined and dined you like you weren't together already then telling you how he wanted to stuff that yittle cunt of yours so full of his cum that there was no way you wouldn't be pregnant would bring you as much pleasure as it does him. That was the plan- that dinner and a night to remember was the plan but that plan was squashed by the Colonel and some last minute meeting that had you waiting for Elvis for hours until he finally came upstairs long after your dress and heels were abandoned for your far more comfortable robe.

If you're being honest, you're pouting a bit with your face in a book with the lamp on your nightstand on. Elvis takes one look at you and knows very well he's cocked this all up. Had every intention of making you happy with him and making you see the vision he had for making you a mama and now he's wondering if he's even gonna get to touch you tonight. Any other night and he might poke the bear, might needle you just a little to get you to eventually smile but not tonight, not with how angry you look with your straight shoulders and pursed lips. Tonight calls for him being quiet and biting his tongue as he strips himself down to nothing except his own robe and climbs into bed next to you. It's almost without thinking that you hand him a pair of reading glasses, assuming that with the presence of the robe and the lack of talking that he's going to just sit next to you and read passages from whichever text he's decided to be engrossed in for the past two days. He takes them from you but doesn't bother to pick up his book. Instead he places the glasses on his own nightstand and moves to stroke your arm, his calloused fingers brushing practically feather light against your arm. A shiver passes through your body and you can almost feel him smirking.

"What are you doing?" You ask with a heavy sigh as you turn to look at him, your frustration lessening the more he touches your arm, the heat of him passing through the fabric easily setting your body ablaze.

"Touchin' my wife," Elvis answers as his hand moves off your arm and to your chest, taking special care to enjoy the soft skin your breasts before cupping them. A gasp leaves your lips. "Tender?"

His mind flashes to a vision of your breasts larger in his hand and tender for another reason even as you answer. "You know they're tender around this time."

This time of the month, not your period, no, he'd remember that, you never wear this robe during that time. No, this time of the month is when you're ovulating, when you can get pregnant the easiest. The time of the month where he could breed you and it could actually take. His breaths quicken and deepen all at once as he accidentally squeezes your breast earning a hiss from you.

"Sorry darlin'. Bit— forgot it was that time. Didn't realize it was. Felt like it snuck up on us, didn't it?"

You narrow your eyes for a moment in confusion before you shrug, licking your lips. "It did. Kind of like that meeting did, hm?"

Elvis rubs at his mouth, squeezing his double chin just a hair before he nods. "Trust me, didn't want that meetin' any more than you did. Had plans for us tonight. Nice dinner, nicer dessert, maybe a perfect midnight snack."

The only answer you manage is a hum before you frown. "Well, we didn't get any of that, did we?"

Elvis's hands move to make it so you turn fully to him as he shifts in the bed to fully turn to you. "Aw hell, don't be like that. I'm sorry. I mean it. I wanted to take my wife out to dinner, tell her how good of a wife she is to me. How she keeps this house and any house we're at in order and how I couldn't ask for a better housewife." He pauses and watches as you look like you're tearing up before cupping your cheek. "And I wanted to ask if ya— if ya thought 'bout havin' a baby."

His cock and his leg twitches at the idea as he says it and he knows from how your gaze moves downward that you've noticed at least the leg twitch. Your gaze slowly moves back up to his face, taking in the rise and fall of his hairy chest, the rise and fall of his stomach and you swallow. "Right now?"

Because asking if he's asking if you're willing to get pregnant right now feels as if you might be overstepping. You can't help the way the idea has you clenching your thighs and has your arousal slowly starting to work its way through you.

A pleased sort of growl rumbles through Elvis's chest as he takes in your clenched thighs. "Right now. Or nine months from now. Been thinkin' 'bout how pretty you'd look pregnant. Wanna see how—"

"You already tell me I'm pretty every day. You already think about how pretty I am." You murmur a little shakily as Elvis starts to move closer to you, his hand moving down your torso to between your legs.

"I do. But you're gonna look even better all swollen wit' our baby inside of ya," he whispers, his fingers slipping in between your folds and groaning as he feels how wet you are. "Ya like that? Like thinkin' 'bout how full you'd be? How your breasts would get heavy wit' milk for our yittle one? Or yittle ones? How everyone'd see what I did to ya? How I love ya 'nough to give ya my baby?"

The noise that leaves you isn't necessarily one you're proud of nor is the way your hands move to cling to his upper arms. You feel his thumb press against your clit and you keen. You've never thought about this in depth but the image he's painting has you practically panting. Your hands scramble to pull him closer and to lift up his stomach just a little bit to reveal his cock already standing at full attention. His precum makes it easier to pull back his foreskin without causing him pain and yet he can't help the way he hisses at the feel of your hand against his cock. He lets himself be guided to where he's on top of you, his full weight pressed up against you as he slides his cock between your folds.

It's hard to say which one of you groans louder at the feeling of his cock inside you but you both don't move for a moment, even as he feels himself twitching inside of you, almost as if his cock is begging him to move. This was it, this was when he was going to make his dream a reality, he could feel it. Everything about tonight might have gone wrong but this wouldn't. You wouldn't leave this bed without his baby growing inside of you. You wouldn't leave this bed without his cum taking root inside you and swelling out your midsection. You wouldn't leave this bed without a baby in you that would cause your body to grow and change and would leave both of you insatiable for each other.

"Move, Elvis. Please," you start to beg before your nails dig into his back and your legs try and wrap around his hips. "Give me what you want to give me."

Make me a mama.

The words stir something inside of him that makes him feel a decade and a head injury younger. You want him to give you a baby, you want him to breed you. He pulls you in for a kiss, rough and almost violent as if he wants to devour you for asking for it. Your tongue meets his in a fight for some control even as he moves to suck on it, only letting go when he pulls away to kiss and nip at your neck, marking it in the only way he can until you've got proof of who you belong to growing inside of you.

His words are slurred when he growls them out, punctuating most of them with a thrust. "Gonna make you a mama. Gonna give you a baby. Gonna watch your tits swell up with milk for our baby. Gonna— goddammit, quit clenchin' baby, gonna have me burstin' 'fore I make ya happy."

What he doesn’t know, or what’s lost in the obscene haze, is that the desperate clenching of your cunt is because you want him to. You want to feel his release inside you before you topple over the precipice of your orgasm. "No. Wanna— Need to feel it first. Give me our baby."

You've never been one to be very demanding or too dominant in the bedroom and Elvis has never responded to it from you but tonight it does something to him. His balls tighten and his arms pull you closer as he feels himself cumming inside of you, his cum filling you to try and do what you commanded of him. A shake runs through him when you kiss him, harsh at first but settling into something softer as he tries to steady himself on top of you. You're so engrossed in watchin him that you end up missing how one of his hands move down to your swollen clit until you feel the brush of his fingers rubbing against it. It's then that your own release hits you in soft waves that he coaxes you through, shushing you quietly as you start to whimper.

"That's it, darlin'. I gotcha." He coos in your ear even as his hand starts to pull away. He doesn't move beyond that, instead choosing to look at you underneath him, chest heaving as you catch your own breath. His hand wanders around your body, watching the goosebumps form on your skin. "Think ya got 'nother round in ya?"

If he's asking himself that more than you, he doesn't let on and you don't bother to point it out. Instead you push against his chest and nod. "I do, but I think I want to be on top of you. Let you play with my boobs. Feel how they are in your hands before you make them swell up."

Elvis doesn't need to be told twice and lays down before pulling you to be on top of him, hissing as you sink onto his cock. "Gonna watch 'em bounce first." His eyes dart to between your legs where he sees a bit of cum leaking out. "After this ya gonna lay back down. Can't be wastin' my cum, darlin'. Not if ya want our baby."

A smirk crosses your lips as you lean to whisper in his ear. "Elvis, daddy, I'm going to be leaking it when we're done."

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