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jhoneybees · 5 months

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Little green thumb

Characters: Elvis X Innocent!reader

Warnings/triggers: Nothing hehe

Prompt: Elvis surprises you with something special but then an unfortunate incident happens but he makes sure you feel better about it.

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You've always had a soft spot for flowers, often going to the gardens of any hotel Elvis and you were staying at in Vegas, just to quietly admire the pretties. One day Elvis saw how your eyes would wander to the sunflowers in the vase sitting on the dining table as you ate your breakfast and that made him think of an idea.

After a few weeks of being in Vegas, Elvis and you finally arrive back home, you decide to sit down and relax in the living room for a while. Being so focused on the magazine you were reading, you didn't see Elvis in the doorway until you randomly looked up, you jumped in fright “Elvis you scared me!” a hand to your chest to catch your breath. He chuckles “M’sorry honey” you shake your head with a smile then your eyes lower, noticing Elvis holding something behind his back “What's that behind your back?” Elvis grins, walking over to join you on the couch. “Well I got ya somethin’ “ showing you a small packet, labelled ‘Sunflower’ a gasp leaving your mouth as you took it from his hand “Sunflowers!” Elvis' grin grows and he chuckles again “Thought you'd like to grow ‘em..” you happily wrap your arms around his neck, thanking him excitedly “Thank you, thank you!” giving him a soft peck on the cheek.

The next day, you prepare a flower pot and after planting a seed, you place it outside just next to the front door of Graceland, thinking it'd be a delightful sight to see every time anyone walks up the steps. You took care of the plant, watering it every morning and just before going to bed; Regularly pulling out any weeds that invaded, it’s almost like your own child.

One morning the flower blooms making you overjoyed. Giddily walking up the stairs to drag Elvis down to show him the sunflower, not caring if you interrupted him from something important, you were so excited. Elvis smiles when he sees the flower and praises you “Aw it's gorgeous sweetheart” pecking your cheek with a chuckle. Elvis adores you. He knew you loved flowers and just seeing you lean over the couch to peek outside the window to look at the sunflower that sat on the steps with a content smile on your face made his heart melt into a puddle but then a storm came one night, neither of you or Elvis thought of bringing the sunflower inside because you were too distracted from the scary sounds of thunder, wanting to just curl up in Elvis' arms “ ‘s alright baby, I ain't goin' nowhere” stroking your hair gently as you squeak and grip his shirt tighter from a loud crash of thunder.

The thought finally clicked in your head as you woke up the next morning, you forgot about the sunflower. You abruptly rush out of bed making Elvis stir in his sleep. “Honey?” ignoring him as you race downstairs then as you opened the front door, the sight you saw made your eyes brim with tears. Your precious sunflower that you adore so much got torn to pieces from the storm. “No..” kneeling down on the ground, you pick up the broken stem and the petals that were scattered everywhere, your vision getting blurry from your tears. Elvis sluggishly walks down the stairs whilst wiping the sleep out of his eye and when his eyes land out the door and sees you crying, they widen “woah, woah! Darlin' why ya cryin'?” bending over to pat your back and wipe your tears away with his thumbs. You hiccup adorably “M-my my flower…” Elvis realises what you were pointing at and his expression softens “Aw sweetie…” turning his attention back to you, he presses his lips on your forehead. Rubbing slow circles on your back as you pitifully sob. Soon your breathing slows and Elvis helps you inside in the jungle room to sit somewhere more comfortable. “M-my sunflower daddy…” you whispered and Elvis cooed “I know honey, I know” he feels so bad for you, little sweet you who always finds the value in everything when other people would just shrug and not raise an eyebrow, your sweet nature is one of the things that Elvis just absolutely can't get enough of.

Your fingers playing with the hem of your nightie as you sniffle quietly, Elvis cards his fingers through his bed hair and sighs. “I don’t like storms..” you pout, Elvis chuckles low “Now that’s a little mean, ya think the clouds would like to hear you say that?” you thought for a bit before you shake your head and pout even more “No…but the storm hurt my sunflower…” Elvis breaks into a small grin, lifting you onto his lap. “I guess you’re right, that wasn’t nice of the clouds to do that huh?” you nod sadly. Elvis kisses your temple lightly and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his large hand “Y’know there’s still plenty of seeds in that lil packet I got ya” he reminds you. Looking into his eyes “ Yeah?..” you frown in confusion “You can grow another one” a small smile creeps up onto your face and you shyly look back down to your fingers playing with your nightie, you didn’t think of that.

After eating breakfast, you and Elvis started cleaning the mess outside before planting a new seed in the same pot but this time, placing it in the jungle room, on a window sill that the sunshine beams through most of the day to make sure no storms would harm it and in a matter of weeks the new sunflower blooms and your happiness comes back. “My little green thumb” Elvis whispers before pecking your cheek lovingly as you excitedly but gently touch the petals.

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #70s elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis x innocent reader

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

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pieces of you and me |dad!rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: your six daughters with eddie are named after the places they're conceived. fluffy little piece I had about nepo baby!reader and rockstar!eddie and their lives as parents, more specifically how they named each of their girls.

contains: mature, sexual themes not graphic but still 18+, minors dni. mom!nepo baby!reader x dad!rockstar!eddie throughout the years.

June 1993 - Corfu Beach, Greece

Your wedding ring dazzled in the Greek sunshine, bright and clear, almost as reflective as the waters in front of you. Corfu Beach was the first stop on your honeymoon trips, after three wedding ceremonies.

The tabloids had gone rabid when you'd announced that your weddings- plural- would be spread out from May to June. Three ceremonies, extravagant but intimate. The first in Palm Springs, an estate near the San Jacinto mountains with just your family. You and Eddie were both only children, the ceremony was sweet and short, an officiant, your parents and grandparents, Wayne and his girlfriend, and the two of you. A silk, slip white dress, custom made by Donatella herself just for you. Eddie wore a tux, the sweetheart, choking back sobs when he read you his vows, promises for your life together. You'd danced under the strung lights, Forever by the Beach Boys, his hand on your back, holding you sweetly. Your private photographer, a family friend, made sure to capture all the intimate sweet moments for you, and it was secluded with no worries of paparazzi.

Then you'd jetted off to Las Vegas, sin city as a couple. Eddie had taken the liberty of renting out Elvis' Little Chapel just for the two of you, hiring the best Elvis and photographer. You'd wore a tiny, leather white dress, garter showing on your thigh. Eddie in an Elvis suit, white just for you. Your friends dressed their part, his band mates, friends from Hawkins, and yours from Beverly Hills and others joined. You didn't remember most of the night, giggling when the Elvis impersonator read you your vows in the mimicking voice. It was a blur, champagne, liquor, and drugs in a penthouse suite at the Palms. You'd woken up a little sick, veil still in your hair and aching between your thighs, ass covered in welts from the night before. Eddie had managed to find a heart shaped paddle on the strip, using it on you when you got back from the 'reception' that was in the other room, where your friends were scattered still.

Lastly, you finished in Paris. Eddie wanted it just to be the two of you, an officiant, and the city of love. He'd gone all out, his vows seemed to triple in size from the first ceremony. Tucked away in a Parisian Chateau that had a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower in the backdrop, Eddie poured his heart out to you, vulnerable and raw. You both sobbed through your vows, heavy with emotion that pored out with each word, kissing each other before the officiant ever gave you the signal.

Now you were here, Greece. The beaches were beautiful, the wine delicious, and the waters stunning. Eddie had rented a small boat for the two of you, drifting off the coast of the secluded resort you were staying at. You were thankful for the intimacy, relaxing in the warm sun, topless, the true European experience.

"I think we should do this more often," Eddie grinned, blocking the sun from your view, standing tall over you.

You shielded your eyes, looking up at him. The sun haloed around his curls, his inked skin a little pinkish from the rays. He looked angelic.

"I think you just like to see me topless." You smirked.

"I think you'd be right." Eddie scoffed, kneeling down between your legs on the towel. "Can you blame me? Look at them." He squeezed your boobs lightly. "My girls. All mine, forever."

You let out a soft laugh, his lips ghosting over yours, fingers rubbing your pebbled nipples between the two of you. He kissed you slow, sweet, taking his time to truly taste you, feel you.

He was between your legs before you knew it, his cock splitting you open, harsh thrusts that left the small boat rocking and shifting with the waves. You'd gotten on top, hips swiveling and rocking with every rise and fall, his hands gripping your hips harsh.

You two spent the day like that, him filling you up raw, pumping his release deep inside of you, leaving you dripping him for the rest of the day on shaky legs.

The thrill of the ceremonies, of the honeymoons, of being hopelessly, completely in love with Eddie had your head spinning. You were still on the high of the first two ceremonies when you'd left for Paris, forgetting your birth control on the counter of the Hills home.

It wasn't until nearly a month later, when you finally returned, still in bliss and the rush of that newly wed feeling, that you realized. Staring at the silver packet that mocked you. You hoped that maybe you'd be lucky, maybe your body was just adjusting from jet lag and the different time zones. You were dehydrated from your time in Europe, maybe that was it.

A month later, you sat in the gynecologist office, the wand pressed over your belly, showing the small blip on the screen, Eddie's ringed hand tight in yours. "Looks like you're about seven weeks along, Mrs. Munson." The doctor said, looking over at you.

Eddie's eyes shined at you, teary and wide. You were both scared, overwhelmed. "Greece." He muttered. "It must've been our honeymoon, shit- well, that makes sense."

Persephone June Munson was born February 17th, 1994.

November 1994 - London, England

"Christ, fuck, it's cold." Eddie grumbled, hands buried deep in his leather jacket, air fogging around him.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "That's why I told you to bring a jacket." You hummed, Burberry plaid scarf whipping in the harsh winds. You held Persephone closer to your chest, she was bundled up in her hat and scarf under your own heavy jacket, but you still worried she'd still be cold.

At ten months old, she was the spitting image of her daddy. Eddie's twin through and through, shining brown eyes that were so expressive and little chocolate curls that were starting to spiral on the ends of the tufts of downy, baby hair. She was your kryptonite, your little angel, for both of you.

Parenthood fit you both very well, to the surprise of nearly all the media. You and Eddie navigated being parents like you did anything else, head first and a little stubborn. After many sleepless nights, parenting books, and the help of your own parents, you'd finally felt accomplished. Eddie didn't want to miss a second of being a dad, and you couldn't blame him, not when the most precious creation on the Earth was looking back at you.

The tour and Corroded Coffin's album had been pushed, finally releasing in September. Eddie knew he'd have to tour soon, the two of you were still working out if you'd stay or go, but when he'd been asked to play at a concert in Wembley Stadiums, headlining with Metallica and Ozzy and all the legends he'd looked up to, he couldn't turn it down.

Now, the three of you were walking down South Kensington in London, heading towards the Natural History Museum with your baby- oh, how times had changed. Eddie smirked, stepping closer to you, looking down your jacket.

"Can she breathe in there? Is she alright?" Eddie asked, eyes scanning the two of you. All he could see of little Persephone was the little pink poof that sat on top of her hat, bobbing and hitting your chin with every step.

"She's fine, aren't you Sephy?" You cooed down at her, pulling your jacket back. Eddie looked down, melting at the brown eyes that stared back at him, chubby cheeks a little red from the warmth of your jacket. "Say, quit worrying daddy, mama's got me." You mimicked a high pitched baby voice that had her giggling.

Eddie grinned, pulling you close to him, his lips pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek. The security in front of you and behind you followed closely, one holding the door while you climbed into the room. The guide waited cheerily at the front, excited to take the infamous rockstar on a private tour.

You held Persephone, still in her little hat but your own jacket shedded. Eddie watched you, how you'd coo sweetly at her, pressing kisses into her little cheeks, swaying with her when the guide would explain the areas.

Eddie felt his heart swell, boasting and filling with love and pride, and something else. Something primal and deep and lustful. It was different from before. Usually the type of thrill that came with drugs, performing for thousands, then having groupies throw themselves at his feet. Now, he felt it deep in his chest, the protectiveness he had over you, over Sephy, his little family.

"You think she'd stay down for a nap if we take her back to the hotel?" Eddie growled low in your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe playfully.

You swatted him away, rolling your eyes. "I doubt it." You gave him a pointed look. "She has like a sixth sense for when were about to fuck." You snorted playfully, looking down at your little baby.

Eddie gave a soft smile, taking Persephone from your arms, snuggling her tight in his arms. She giggled, reaching to grab onto his curls. You grinned when she did, yanking them down hard, pulling at the scalp. Eddie hissed, moving his head with her to alleviate some of the pull. "Easy, easy, sweetheart," He muttered, opening her little fists.

You told him a million times to put his hair up around her. She was going through a grabbing stage. Anything and everything. The two of you had to re-baby proof the house when she'd started crawling, her tiny hands grabbing onto anything and everything she could.

"She's got a fucking iron grip." Eddie grunted, pulling his scalp back, tossing his hair over his shoulders. He knitted his brows, looking down at Persephone playfully. "Don't you? You're just a strong lil thing aren't ya?" He cooed, excitedly, bouncing her in his arms.

You smiled at her little giggles, the faintest crease in her chubby cheeks, hinting that she'd inherit dimples like her daddy. You shouldn't be surprised at this point, she was Eddie's twin, but it still made you a little jealous every time a new feature came in and it was a carbon copy of him.

"The next one will look just like ya, babe." Eddie would wink when you'd huff to him about it. "If not, we can just keep trying and trying and trying 'til one looks like ya." He always said it like he was joking, but the way his eyes darkened, you wondered if he truly was.

Persephone had gone down easily for her nap, and you were thankful. You figured she was still exhausted from the flight. You'd flown private with the band, your parents insisted on it, which benefited the two of you more than anyone else. Her little ears hurt from the pressure, whimpering and sobbing in the little bedroom on the back of the plane while you and Eddie tried to soothe her.

Eddie had gone for a soundcheck with the band, leaving you at the hotel with Sephy, unwinding in the cool linens of the hotel. You ran your hand down the bed, gnawing at your bottom lip. The last time you'd been at this hotel in London, it was with Eddie, but very differently. The two of you had just begun... whatever you wanted to call the relationship. You'd flown out on a red eye to London when he started his European tour, letting him fuck you hard and mean, tying you up to the headboard and having his way with you.

Now, you had a baby, you were married, and life was so different.

The door clicked shut, locking gently. Eddie could hear the sound machine, white noise that washed out the busy streets below next to the crib. You held your finger to your lips, nodding towards Persephone, who napped in her little portable crib.

Eddie smiled lovingly, looking over the edge of her crib. He climbed into the bed with you, gently laying down beside you. "She been asleep long?" He whispered.

You shook your head, your nose touching his. "Just a few minutes. I fed her and she was exhausted." You smiled, hands running over his shirt, down his arms. He perked up at the movement. "I think we have some time if you want to..." You bit your lip suggestively.

Eddie's eyes flicked from you back to the crib. "Here?" He whispered, ringed finger pressing into the bed.

You rolled your eyes. "We can go in the bathroom." You nodded to the spacious bathroom on the other side of the room. "Just be quiet."

Eddie grinned wide, letting you pull him by his hand towards the bathroom. "You be quiet," He whispered, pressing the door closed softly. "You're always the one screaming."

You rolled your eyes, wiggling your pants off. "Just hurry up." You huffed, tossing your discarded clothes to the ground, bending over the counter.

Eddie grinned, dropping to his knees. He pulled the lacy little thong off, smirking at your choice of panties. "Let me taste you first," Eddie rasped, ringed hands pulling your cheeks apart, revealing your slick puffy lips. He nearly drooled. "'S been too long, baby, let me have a taste."

You bit down on the back of your hand hard, smacking the faucet on, hoping the steady water stream would muffle your whimpers that escaped while Eddie devoured you over the counter. Miraculously, Sephy stayed asleep while Eddie pounded you hard, hips snapping against yours, holding you up to look at you through the mirror, hand around your neck.

He had more adrenaline after that, seeing his cum drip and spill out of your sopping hole. He pushed it back in with his pointer finger, smirking when you whimpered, collapsed over the vanity, cheek pressed to the marble countertop of the bathroom.

Four weeks later, you were sure you'd caught a virus. Stomach lurching and exhausted beyond belief.

Eight months later, that 'virus' was crowning, pushing out of you while you swore and threatened Eddie.

Kensington Klein Munson was born on August 3rd, 1995.

February 1998 - Milan, Italy

You'd been reluctant to go. You knew getting invited to Fashion Week in Milan was a big deal, especially since your long time friend was showcasing his line there, fresh new styles curated for the runway.

"Button, just go," Your mother sighed. "Daddy and I have it covered. We've raised a baby before, and look at you, you turned out just divine."

Still, you were hesitant to leave. You never left your babies often, hating the feeling- it was one you knew all too well. It was only a few days after Persephone's birthday, it felt too soon. And Kensington was going through a particularly nasty clinging stage with you, wailing and sobbing herself to near hyperventilation when you weren't in her sight.

Eddie had coaxed you sweetly, reminding you it's only be for a few days. He knew you didn't want to travel alone, and he too had been invited, so he offered to come with you, leaving your babies with your mom and dad.

You could hardly sit through the plane ride, guilt and nerves making you tight and irritable the entire time.

Eddie pressed sweet kisses into your skin, muttering that it would be ok. You were tense with every passing second. Tense during the pre-show dinner the night before, tight lipped smile and clutching your cell phone tightly. You'd given your hotel number to your parents, and instructed the concierge to forward it to the restaurant immediately if they called.

Even the wine, your favorite from Tuscany, didn't help soothe your nerves. Pouty the whole night, ignoring Eddie's sweet touches. You'd scurried to the phone when they said there was a call for you, nearly knocking over a waitress in the process.

It was your parents calling with the girls, ready to say goodnight. "Oh, Kensie, I know, sweet girl," You cooed sweetly, and Eddie could see your own heart breaking through the phone. "Mama and Daddy will be back so soon, baby angel, I promise."

Eddie rubbed your back soothingly. He could hear Kensie's wails and blubbering over the phone, through the noise of the restaurant. "You're with sissy, and Glammy," You sucked in a breath, fighting an eye roll at your mother's outrageous name she'd chosen for her grand babies to call her. You pulled the phone away, another heart wrenching wail, making your face crumble.

Eddie wrenched the phone out of your grasp lightly, pressing it to his ear. "Is that my sweet Kensie crying?" He cooed lowly into the phone. You pressed closer to hear. Her cries stuttered, shushing temporarily at her father's voice. "That can't be my sweet Kensie crying, is it?"

"It is, dad." Persephone's grumbled voice came from the background. "She hasn't stopped crying." Even at four, she was all attitude. She might have gotten Eddie's look, but he swore she got all your sass.

Eddie bit back a grin. "Sephy, can you hear me too?" He asked. She confirmed. "I need you to be extra sweet to your sister, ok? Mommy and Daddy will be back soon."

"And we'll bring you gifts back if you're good!" You added, yelling into the phone.

Eddie glared at you lightly, rolling his eyes. Persephone seemed excited at the promise. "Kens, Seph, can you both be good for Glammy and Pop-Pop?" His younger self would be raging at the nicknames.

"We'll be good, Daddy, prowmise." Persephone said sweetly through the phone. Eddie's heart swelled.

"Good." He grinned back. "You have good dreams, ok? Call us in the morning." You reached for the phone, pulling it away from his ear.

"Have sweet dreams, my angel babies." You cooed. "Daddy and Mommy love you so much. We miss you so much."

Your mother took the phone, chatting with you for a moment before you hung up, hesitantly, shoulder's deflating in defeat. You looked tired, dull, so unlike yourself. Eddie frowned, his hand circling your waist, pulling you close.

"C'mon," He nodded, pulling you towards the door. "Let's go back to the hotel."

"But-"

"-Tell them I got sick." Eddie shrugged. "I wanna spend some time with you. It's the first night alone we've had in a while."

You smiled gently, wrapping your arms around his torso. He shielded you from the paparazzi, ringed hand shoving cameras when they crowded outside your hotel, shouting at them all the way to the elevator.

When he got you back into the hotel, his hands on your back, smoothing over the fabric of your dress. "You know what we haven't done in a while?" Eddie grinned lightly. You hummed. "You haven't let me tie you up and have my way with you in a while."

Your thighs twitched, pressing together under the dress. "Ed," You let out a breathy sigh, squealing when he pinched the fat of your ass. "Kinda hard to do that when the kids are around."

"Well, the kids aren't around now." Eddie smirked, squeezing and kneading your cheeks. "No one to bother us all week. C'mon..." He was already moving towards you, lips slotting over yours to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, tongue sliding easily into your mouth.

You melted into the kiss, relaxing for the first time since you stepped off the plane. Eddie pulled you closer, fingers splayed out on the small of your back, pressing you farther into him. His lips pulled apart from yours, soft lips pressing into your cheek gently. "C'mon, baby," He rasped into your ear. "Be my good girl."

You perked, eyes meeting his, dark, hungry eyes shining back down at you. You rolled your lips like you were really thinking it over, but your hand was already reaching for your zipper.

"Fine, but only your hand if you spank me." You warned, pointing at him sternly. "We have to sit like all day tomorrow, and I better be able to sit." You glared at him, letting the slinky dress fall to your ankles.

Eddie's grin widened, eyes lighting up with excitement. You smirked, rolling your eyes, climbing on the bed. He fumbled through his bag, pulling out the leather cuffs. You lifted a brow. "So you were planning this?"

Eddie shrugged. "Maybe. Knew we'd be alone. Figured I might as well take advantage of my opportunity." He grinned.

You snorted, rolling on your stomach and letting him cuff you behind your back. Eddie hauled you into his lap, spanking you until your ass blossomed with red splotches and you were crying out. He fucked you hard into the mattress, skin burning and nails raked down his back and shoulder.

You were limping to the show next week, only sitting through your friend's show before disappearing back to the hotel, judgmental looks be damned. Eddie had his way with you the rest of the trip, the two of you refusing to leave the hotel room, fucking hard and nasty like you used to before; before the kids and before the marriage, before you two even liked each other.

You squirmed the entire plane ride home, finding refuge in Eddie's lap while he let you curl up into his chest. You ached between your legs, ass burning, chest littered in hickies you hoped the girls wouldn't see.

Nine months later, you were back in a familiar position, screaming in pain while you pushed out not one, but two babies; twin girls. Eddie nearly fainted at the ultrasound.

Sicily Giselle and Sienna Noelle Munson were born December 1st, 1998.

June 1999 - Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt

It was an anniversary gift, celebrating your wedding date from Farrah. You loved to travel, you and Eddie both, and since you saw the feature on Egypt, you'd wanted to go.

Farrah offered to watch the kids while you and Eddie had a get away, a romantic trip to the beautiful El Fanar Beach. "Just bring me back something nice, ok?" She winked playfully.

Eddie was in paradise, literally. You, him, and a private resort a haven for just the two of you. He'd taken you shopping to the local vendors, and you knew you had to pick up a bottle of perfume. Everyone raved about the fragrance, how decadent and strong it was- one of a kind. You'd fallen in love with one, dousing yourself in it during the trip.

Eddie seemed to like it too, burying his face in your neck, wrists, chest wherever you sprayed it, nuzzling need and sweet into you, inhaling you deeply like he might lose the scent if he didn't. You giggled when he nipped at your neck, loose, flowing linen dress flying around you in the breeze of the balcony.

The water was a gorgeous turquoise, but you hadn't managed to get in it yet. Every time you changed into your swimsuit, Eddie had you crowded around whatever was nearest, bending you over or pushing you against the surface, fucking you deep and slow.

"Ed, please," You whined, his crotch digging mercilessly into you, lips sucking and nipping at the skin of your neck, still raw from earlier. "Please, I-I wanna go to the beach."

"We'll go," Eddie hummed, lips ghosting down your collarbones. "We'll go after, I promise."

"You said that yesterday." You whined, huffing when he toyed with your clit through your swimsuit. "Ed, please-"

"-You just look too good, baby, fuck." Eddie groaned. "Smell too good. They put crack in that perfume. Made you irresistible." He growled, nipping at your ear.

You giggled, relenting when he dropped to his knees, licking you slowly until you were a puddle, sliding down the wall and further onto his tongue, hands gripping his curls.

Eddie went out and bought every bottle they had of that perfume, packing it back over on the plane, his nose still buried deep in your neck.

You blamed the perfume on why you were ringing in the millennium heavily pregnant, sipping soda water instead of champagne with your friends. That damn perfume, but it had a beautiful name, one you passed on to your daughter a month later, saving the original bottle in your safe just for her one day.

Zahra Wayne Munson was born on January 19th, 2000.

March 2007- Las Vegas, Nevada

You felt a little tipsy, stumbling in your stilettos across the marbled floors backstage. It was easier these days to get drunk. Younger you would never believe that you lose your tolerance when you get older, yet here you were thirty-seven, stumbling through The Colosseum at Caesar's Palace.

Corroded Coffin had been retired for years now, since the twins, really. Eddie had agreed to do a few shows, but hung up his guitar, trading it over to be a family man instead. He still dabbled in projects, produced, and some other things to occupy his time, but he wanted to be present with the girls, with you. It shocked the world that the both of you were as dedicated parents as you were.

Now, your oldest was thirteen, your youngest seven. Your little family complete and perfect. You were still reluctant leaving them, even if they were older, but it was a special event. Corroded Coffin live in concert at Caesar's, Eddie couldn't turn it down. And the two of you would never turn down Vegas, no matter how mature you were.

"Hey there, sexy mama." Eddie slurred, drunk and flirty. You giggled, gripping onto this leather clad arm. The show had ended hours ago, the after party raging on into the early morning.

"What're you doin'?" You giggled, watching him grab at your ass, hand ducking under your dress to squeeze your cheeks harsh.

"You just look so fuckin' good baby, goddam," Eddie grinned, swaying with you in his arms. "You're so pretty. So pretty."

You snorted. "You're horny." You grinned, feeling his half hard dick against you.

Eddie rolled his tongue over his cheek. "You're right. Can you blame me? With how good you look?"

You blushed, arms circling around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "I think-I think you look really pretty too." You smiled, nuzzling your nose against the scruff of his cheeks.

He pulled you in closer at the waist, hands still firm on your ass. You knew you were too old to be acting like this, you were parents and adults, you should behave. But you couldn't get enough of him. A little over fifteen years together, five babies, and you still couldn't get enough; that might be why you had the five babies.

"I think," Eddie whispered into your ear. "I think we should go to the bathroom." His eyes lit up suggestively.

"The bathroom?" You asked, giggling.

He was already waltzing you through the crowd, towards the private restrooms in the back. He'd had you already in the dressing room, you dropped to your knees when he came in, sucking him off until he fucked you hard over the table. Just like when you were younger, when everything was new and exciting.

He was insatiable then and still now, that never changed.

The bathroom door clicked with a lock, spacious and extravagant like the rest of the room was. Eddie hoisted you up on the bathroom counter, hands roaming every square inch of your body, needy and slipping under the fabric of your dress. You giggled, throwing your head back on the mirror, letting his fingers work you open.

He pulled your thong down, black lace with 'CC' crocheted on the front; a true artifact, made in 1992 when you went to your first Corroded Coffin concert. He fucked you back stage, and you surprised him with it. Somehow, your panties made their way into the lyric pages of their next CD.

Eddie laughed, holding them up by the band, eyes widening back at you. You blushed, shrugging gently. "Surprise, baby." You giggled. "I thought you'd see them earlier."

Eddie groaned loudly, tying his hair up with the thong before plunging head first between your legs. You squealed and gasped and writhed on the counter, his hands gripping your waist hard holding you into place.

He fucked you in the bathroom, trapping you against the wall, hips snapping into yours while you grabbed at his ass. There was no need for birth control, condoms, or having him pull out. He'd gotten a vasectomy after Zahra, you were done having babies, giving up on having your boy and accepting having all beautiful girls.

Or so you thought.

You returned to Los Angeles with more than just a hangover. The Las Vegas night was truly one you'd never forget, even if you didn't exactly remember everything, because- to both of your surprises, your urine test came back positive.

Vega Jo Munson was born October 29th, 2007.

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youaintnothinbuta · 18 days

Note

if you don't mind do you think you can do some Elvis angst I really enjoy them but I haven't found any and they don't have to be about anything in specific just as long as it has some angst a little fluff and smut you don't have to if you don't want to but I'll appreciate it!!! 🙏 If you want something to base it off it can be about Elvis affairs or y/n affairs and they get into fights or something and then make up but not until one of them makes it clear that they will leave one another if they don't stop (sorry if it doesn't make sense or sounds stupid😭)

I hope this covers all bases!! <3

“Come home, baby, please.” — elvis presley x reader

Summary: You and elvis are fighting about him never being around because he’s ‘too busy’ but being seen with all these girls in the newspapers constantly, when you decide you’ve had it and leave for your parents house. After days and days go by and his guilt growing, he comes and gets you and you have make up sex in the car

Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 1,800

Warnings: angsty, argument, yelling, SMUT, 18+, car sex, make up sex, unprotected sex, probably typos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’re never here, Elvis, never,” You yelled, throwing the newspapers at his feet, “and how is this supposed to make me feel any better?”

The headlines, yet again, in big, bold text, wrote about another woman spotted with him, mocking you with every word.

Elvis looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and irritation. “I am busy, Y/N, you know that, providing for you and every other god damn person I know. I have responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities? Is that what you’re calling it?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Flirting with every girl who bats her eyelashes at you? Is that your responsibility too?”

He stood up abruptly, towering over you, “You know it ain’t like that, baby. Those girls mean nothing to me.”

“Then why do see these headlines every day, Elvis? Every. Damn. Day.” you retorted, your arms crossing over your chest in defiance. He leant down, picking up the newspapers you were standing on. He tore them to shreds, the sound of ripping paper filling the room.

“I don’t write these goddamn headlines, Y/N. What the hell do you want me to do about it?” His voice rose, surprising even himself with the aggression in his tone. “They ain’t mean nothin’ to me.”

“I want to believe you, Elvis, I really do,” you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and anger. “But I can’t keep living like this. I won’t be second best in your life.”

He reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away.

“I mean it, Elvis. If this doesn’t stop, we’re over. Call me when you’re ready to start acting like a man,” you declared, your voice firm with resolve. With that, you grabbed your car keys from the bench and stormed out.

“Don’t you dare spe—“ Elvis shouted, but the door slamming shut behind you interrupted him before he could finish.

Elvis stood there, watching you go, his chest tight with a mixture of anger and regret. Huffing in frustration, he stared down at the shredded remnants of the newspapers scattered across the floor, the headlines mocking him with their accusations.

He expected you to come back that night, like you always did after a fight, but as the hours passed, and you didn’t return, he began to worry. Days went by, each one dragging on in agonising slowness as he waited for you to walk back through the door. He missed the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your eyes, the way you always knew how to soothe his mind.

One night he went out, and as per usual, he was met with the eager attention of adoring fans and all the girls who would swarm him, but it felt different this time. While he always swore it meant nothing, and it did, this time he felt sick with guilt, so much so he was headed home by midnight.

He sat alone on his side of the bed, the weight of his actions finally hit him. He realised that he couldn’t live without you, that he needed you in his life more than anything. Hesitating, he finally picked up his telephone. Unsure of where exactly you were, his best guess was your parent’s house.

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited hoped for you to pick up. Thinking he wasn’t going to get an answer, he was momentarily stunned when he heard your voice say ‘hello?’

You asked again, ‘hello?’

“Come home, baby, please,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. There was silence as you replayed the sound of his voice in your mind.

“Alright, darlin’, you win,” he continued, “You’re my number one. It’s killing me going to bed without you,” he confessed.

“Come pick me up then,” you demanded, your voice softening slightly.

Without hesitation, Elvis agreed, relief flooding through him at the prospect of seeing you again. “I’m leaving right now,” he promised, the urgency in his voice evident. He really wasn’t kidding, you heard his keys jangling in his hands through the line.

You hung up, feeling a mix of emotions. You sat by the window in the living room, only a lamp on as your parents had gone to bed already, waiting for him to arrive. You didn’t know how to feel, only that you still loved him, despite everything.

It was a long drive to your parents, about 40 minutes, but he was there as soon as he could’ve been. Finally, he arrived, the headlights of his car casting long shadows across the familiar driveway. With a sigh of relief, he killed the engine and stepped out into the cool night air.

As he approached the front door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand poised to knock. But before he could make a sound and wake your family, the door swung open, and there you stood, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. For a fleeting moment, Elvis was struck by the sight of you, how pretty you looked in the pale light.

You wanted to be angry with him, you wanted to give him the silent treatment and make him work for forgiveness but the second you saw his beautiful face, you couldn’t help but smile. Without a word, you stepped out onto the porch, closing the door softly behind you. Elvis met your gaze, his expression filled with remorse.

He opened your door for you, making his way around to the driver’s side once you were in. You looked over at him as he sat, his eyes already on you.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he says, his voice low and sincere, “don’t ever run away on me like that to me again.”

You turn to face him, your expression softening. “Don't ever make me feel like I have to,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I won't,” he promises, reaching out to take your hand, his lips grazing over your knuckles. “I swear.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and you can't help but believe him, even if it might be against your better judgment. You lean over and press your lips to his, feeling the tension between you start to dissipate. You glance down, noticing the way his muscles tense under his shirt. You missed him. You really did. You’d never tell him that, though.

Without a word, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you deepened the kiss. His sucks in a surprised breath at your unexpected movement. You can feel his erection grow as you kiss him, the size of him putting pressure on your clit. You waste no time in releasing his cock from his pants, a silent invitation that he eagerly accepted as he deftly maneuvered your panties aside, his fingers tracing patterns of anticipation along the delicate curve of your thigh. You push his hand out the way, gently lowering yourself down onto him, your jaw hung open at the feeling.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as you bottomed out, the raw intensity of the moment leaving you both reeling. You began to move, a steady rhythm building between you as the car filled with the heady scent of arousal, the windows fogging over with the heat of you both. Elvis' hands roam over your body, touching you wherever he could as he whispered apologies and words of love.

He attempted to guide you to move up and down instead of back and forth, you took the hint, earning a series of raspy grunts from him. You could feel the tension building between you, the pleasure mounting higher and higher. As you rode him, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Elvis sensed it too, because his fingers found your clit, rubbing quick circles that sent you spiraling over the edge.

You cried out as you came, your orgasm rippling through you like a shockwave. You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing something to hold onto as you lost control of your body. Your orgasm coated his cock with more wetness, “I’ve got you,” he murmured, still thrusting himself up into you. Elvis followed you over the edge, groaning as he filled you with his release.

As you come down from your high, Elvis chuckles, looking towards the window.

“Makeup sex right outside your parents' window, who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” He teased, lightly squeezing your ass.

You playfully punched him in the chest, shushing him as you tried to catch your breath. “Be quiet,” you whispered, blush colouring your cheeks.

Elvis grinned, pulling you close for a kiss. “I love you,” he says, his voice soft. He reaches his fingertip to the condensation on the window, drawing half a heart.

You smiled, reaching your hand over to finish the other half. “I love you too,” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

You reluctantly pulled yourself off of Elvis' lap. He quickly adjusted his pants, tucking himself away before pulling off his jacket, wrapping it around you to keep you warm for the drive home.

“Let's get you home,” he said, his voice soft. He started the car, pulling away from the curb as you settled into the passenger seat. He rested his left hand on the steering wheel as he drove, his right arm wrapped around you holding you close to him. You leant into his body, feeling his warmth against you. You giggled, still feeling the aftershocks of earlier orgasm. He must’ve somehow known, because he leant down to press a kiss to your head.

“My girl,” he whispered. As you continued along the quiet road, the weight of the day and the events of the week began to catch up with you, exhaustion settling heavy upon your shoulders.

Elvis sensed your weariness, his arm tightening around you as he pulled you closer, cocooning you in the safety of his embrace. “You can sleep,” he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words spread through you. You let yourself drift off, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

When you finally arrived back at his house, Elvis woke you gently, his touch a gentle caress against your skin as he guided you inside, still wrapped in his jacket. With his help, you changed into one of your nighties.

You brushed your teeth together, your eyes meeting, making you laugh in the mirror as you both rinsed.

As you climbed into bed, Elvis pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. “I'm never letting you go again,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, snuggling closer to him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby as you drifted off to sleep, finally back in his.

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elvisgasm · 5 months

Text

Thinking about making out with elvis

And he's so gentle beneath you – rough hands soothing over the cotton of your mod dress, bunching and threading his fingers around the soft fabric.

The rough of his sideburns tickles your soft cheeks and pulls gentle giggles from your swollen lips when your lips part against one another.

"Mhm!" You giggle against his plush lips, pulling back some before he's pulling you back into another kiss.

You giggle again and he pinches your side playfully, smiling against your lips as he does so.

"What's so funny, missy?" He kisses you again, heavy eyes set on your swollen lips.

"Your hair tickles me," you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and his eyes follow.

"Oh yeah?" Elvis chides, "does my hair tickle you when I do this?" He rubs the side of his cheek against your own and you squeal. "How about this?" He turns and rubs the underside of your jaw earning an onslaught of giggles.

With a squeal you push yourself away from him, nearly falling off of his lap before he's catching you and settling you back in his hold.

The heart of his laugh pulls you into another string of giggles leaving him to wipe away at tears when the two of you finally settle.

A soft hum warms you and Elvis pokes your side to which you pull your lips into an ornery pout.

"Awh, don't go poutin'." A large hand lands on your thigh, "don't make me shoot you."

The faux threat illicits a girlish squeal and you're suddenly backing yourself out of his lap to stand in front of him.

"Now go upstairs n' get ready fr'bed." He waves you off, moving to pull a box of Marlborough from the side table.

"Wanna stay up with you though." You run the sole of your socked foot up and down the front of your shin.

Elvis gives you a look that you read almost instanly. It's his dad look. The look that reads 'don't even try it.'

"M'not in the mood." He mumbles around the filtered cig sitting between his teeth.

"Please–"

"Bed. Now." He meets your eyes under his lashes.

There's a moment where neither of you stare at one another and you can't tell whether you're doing it to further test his patience into forcing you upstairs or as a means to getting your way. You don't pay much mind to it.

Elvis suddenly stands and you're immediately moving to scatter out of the room.

A rough hand comes down to pat your ass softly and you squeal bashfully.

Elvis takes a drag of his cigar with his free hand before pulling the end of your dress down over the curve of your ass.

"Go to bed." He nips at your jaw softly "I'll be up in a bit."

You nearly trip up the vanilla stairs in giddiness.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #big daddy elvis #big daddy elvis x reader

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takincareofbusiness · 10 months

Text

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

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

#elvisaaronpresley #elvis movie #elvis presley x reader #70’s elvis #elvis presley #elvis x reader #big daddy elvis #yandere elvis x reader #vampire elvis #elvis concert

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impaala-67 · 2 months

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The death of Elvis Presley.

With the death of the King, many lives has changed. But Elvis' music will forever remain in our heart.

He was found dead in his bathroom floor, with pills scattered everywhere. As you know, Elvis had a drug problem, which was probably what caused the heart attack. No one knows for sure. But there are some people who still thinks he's alive.

In loving memory...the King.

#elvis the king #elvis history #elvis fans #elvis presley

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h0unds-of-h3ll · 11 months

Text

Baby hotline

You’ve been talking to a man who calls himself big daddy for over a month now, he calls every night to talk to you. Some conversations are wholesome whereas some lead to sin. When he calls you tonight you wonder which it shall be.

Big daddy! Elvis x call girl! reader smut.

Word count: 3k.

Warnings: Descriptive talk of sex. Mutual masturbation, fingering and jerking off. Explicit detail, graphic imagery. Hint of stalking. Innocence and corruption kink. Daddy kink. Talk of prostitution. Smoking and language. Talk of unprotected sex and cream pies. Age gap of 20 years. Heavy sexual themes. Mature.

A/n: Based around 1975, Elvis is a lonely pervert looking for young 🐱.

The silk curtains were tied in the middle as you pushed them aside. The large window in the hotel room overlooks the dark alleyway of Hollywood Boulevard. A few lights were scattered throughout the building across from where you stood. Traffic was slow and the people were scarce. Cars are parked by the sidewalks. Most are Volkswagens. The block you stayed on was occupied by protestors who preached free love and peace. It was a warm inviting community that brought you here, all those months ago. However, there was a dark brooding car that made you anxious. It was out of place in the rainbow pallet. A shiny 1973 Stutz Blackhawk. It loomed over all the other vehicles, like a dark storm cloud on a clear night. The car was parked on the other side of the road, closest to your window without being directly below. It was strange but maybe they were just visiting for a session with one of the girls.

The residents of the hotel you lived at including you were either prostitutes or call girls. You being the latter. It was a movement to lift women's sexuality. You decided what's the harm in selling the most organic thing, sex. You get paid for doing it as well and won't have to see the person who's paying. A man who was your most reliable client paid the highest. You didn't know his real name or what he looked like. Only what he told you throughout the months you've known him. You knew that he liked being called big daddy, and he loved routine. He told you he had blue eyes and dark black hair, and that he was a very wealthy man. However, with all that charm came a cost. Some of the calls he made were personal, talking to you like a child. Telling you that he was a lonely man, that women didn't love him like they used to since he gained some weight. He was older, more mature. He talked to you like a guardian. He wanted to protect you, a stranger. A call girl he's never met at that.

Unabashedly you liked him more than you should. He paid fairer than most of the men you talked to, and he always kept his word to spoil you. Big daddy also had a routine of calling you, every other night at midnight. Tonight however is nearing that hour and you haven't heard a word from him. It was strange since he was a creature of habit. Has he lost interest? Surely not, sometimes he called just to talk to you. He didn't care that every minute was ten dollars he just wanted to know how his little darling was doing.

You sighed, sitting on the window banister. Propping the window open you hear Hollywood's busy atmosphere. People yelling and conversing, and the traffic. The cool night air hitting your bare thighs made you shiver. Your baggy sleep shirt isn't adapting to California’s climate.

Hitting the bottom of the pack of reds, you open the brim. Plucking one of the last cigarettes out of the box. Placing it between your lips you take the lighter you keep stuffed in the box out. Cupping your hand around the flame you light the smoke. Puffing the flame to keep it steady. You tuck the lighter back and set aside the box on the side of the sill.

If you focus hard enough you swear you could see the stars behind Hollywood's fog. You inhale the smoke and breathe it out of your nose. You feel a pit in your stomach grow as the minutes pass as he doesn't call. The embers fall onto the window pane and you throw the rest of it out, puffing a long train of smoke and pushing it out into the night.

There's rhythmic rapping on the other side of your door. The sudden noise makes you jump, your skin tingling with fear. Who could be asking for your presence at such a late stage of the night? Hesitantly you stand and walk over to your door. Wrapping your fingers around the knob, bracing yourself for what’s to come when you open. When you open it, nothing is there. You stick your head out and look at both sides. Empty. You take a step out, and your toes hit something solid. Looking down you find a box. The box is about not big, not small either. More of a rectangle than anything. One of those boxes you find at a woman’s boutique. It doesn’t have a brand but it’s a hot pink color. There’s a white bow on top, and a small card tucked under it. Did someone else’s mail get delivered to you? You crouch down and take the card out from the sash. In barely cursive writing, it reads.

To my sweet darling,

May you bless these garments, with your lovely body.

Sincerely,

Your daddy.

Briefly your cheeks heat up, and the rest of your body follows. Your hands are sweating when you pick the box up. A smile erupts across your face. He cares. However, it strikes you with fear about how much he does. For example, how did he find where you lived? Did he trace the line? Surely not, you were just overthinking. You set the box down on your bed. You tucked the card under the lamp on your side table. The only light that is shown in your room. It illuminated the pink rotary phone on standby.

You slipped the baggy shirt over your chest, the cold air of the night made your skin prickle. Your nipples pebble from the icy grasp. Your little white panties were the only thing you had on. Untying the sash you opened the box. Your eyes turned glassy, your pussy clenching around nothing. Your brain is running wild with assumptions. A dusty pink bra with a little white bow in between the cups and matching lace panties. Your ears started to ring. You took the fabric into your hands, examining your gift further. It was silk. The stitching was embroidery, not factory-made. Did he get this tailored to you? You snorted a laugh at the idiocy. But upon further inspection, picking up your chosen underwear for the night. You found a pink sticky note with the number three written on it. Three thousand dollars in one hundred bills wrapped with a pink rubber band stuffed into the crotch. You huffed a loud noise in the form of a gasp. You should've known he’d do something like this. Taking the wad out you placed it by his note.

Unclasping the delicate strap you place the bra on. It shouldn't be a shock that it fits you perfectly, but it also raised the question. How did he know? You hooked your fingers under the waistband of the white panties you had on and slipped them off. You shake your head at the damp spot in the middle. God. Did just thinking about him do this to you? He could be the ugliest man alive for all you knew. His voice though. That heavy southern drawl, that makes him sound drunk sometimes with how slow he talks. You roll your eyes and groan. There it is again, you psycho-analyzing your client. It's just business. Where is the line between client and lover? You didn't know and you're afraid that you're too far gone to understand the concept.

You slid on the soft pink ones and pulled them up your legs and they hung snugly around your hips. Bizarrely you felt a wild hit of lust. Like those smelling salts they've been selling around your street lately. A boost of confidence hits your psyche. You knew you looked pretty just from how the lingerie felt. He somehow knew what looked best on you. He knows what's best for you. You ran your palms flat over your curves, stroking yourself. Suddenly, you understood what men saw. That unbridled sexual libido.

The phone rang. Your eyes almost bulged out of your head and you ran over to the pink plastic. Kicking the box off of your bed in the midst of it all. When you first pick it up and hold it to your ear you don't hear anything. Other than the hushed sound of breathing.

“Hello?”

You whisper into the bottom. You lay flat on your stomach, anticipating who is on the other line.

“Hello, darlin’. Been missin’ you.”

Your heart hammers against your chest. You smile widely. His voice is deeper than it usually is, softer as well. He's composed.

“Really?”

Listening to his breathing fogs your thinking and makes your stomach tighten.

“Of course, honey, been thinking about you since our last call.”

You snort a little at how silly his answer was. You trail your fingers over the curly cord.

“You’re so funny daddy, our last call was yesterday. You couldn't have thought about me that much.”

Instead of the line going quiet and listening to his breathing he immediately replies.

“Trust me, yittle girl, I have.”

You start to burn. He’s thought about you so much to the point where it’s not even a question. He adjusts himself and you hear leather squelch. Is he calling you in his car? You can’t think about it for long.

“Do you like my present?”

You scoff.

“Like it? I love it, daddy! Thank you so much!”

“I was a little worried it wouldn’t fit. Had to make a guess using what you’ve told me.”

You wonder if he keeps tabs on you, a notepad dedicated to details about you. You feel flattered by the sentiment.

“Are you wearing it?”

You can hear his swallow, a thick audible sound coming from his throat. Hearing him lick his lips too. You smile.

“Mhm, it’s very pretty. Expensive too, and I noticed the cash. You didn’t have to, our call was only a couple hundred last night.”

You felt a little apologetic for the amount of money he gave you. You honestly valued the conversations you have with him, you felt saddened to know that he probably thought you only talked to him since you got paid in the end. You hear him scoff on the other side.

“Baby, I'll tell you one thing. You don't know nothin’ ‘bout me if you think I can't spoil my yittle girl.”

You smile.

“Point taken.”

It’s quiet again. His deep breathing follows, it’s strangely comforting hearing him breathing. It’s as if you were cuddled up next to him. You’d lay on his chest, rubbing your hand on his bare chest. Feeling his heart beat faster as you trail your hand lower under the waistband of his velvet track pants. You wondered what color they’d be. You know undoubtedly he wouldn’t have trouble getting hard. A pretty little thing like you was the only dose of medicine he’d ever need. You rub your thighs together trying to appease the urge to touch yourself. Fantasizing what his hands would feel like on your body. How big he was.

“Need to stop smokin’ honey.”

You blink dumbly. Your heart is running fast. How’d he know? Was he watching? No. You refuse.

“W-what?”

Your words are rushed.

“A lotta girls in the valley are startin’ to smoke those cowboy killers. They’re called that for a reason. Pretty young girls can’t take that kinda smoke. Makes your poor daddy sad seein’ them ruin’n their lives because of a fad.”

“How d’you know I smoke?”

“Like I said, lotta pretty youngins are startin’ up the nasty habit.”

Shutting your mouth you think for a few seconds, contemplating his answer. He’s most likely around your demographic all the time for his profession. He’s just in one of his overprotective moods. He’s been getting into those moods more often lately. A hint of jealousy grows a pit in your stomach. If he’s always around young women then why does he talk to you? There’s nothing special about a call girl. Or so you think.

“Daddy, do you ever think about me outside of our little talks?”

“I'm ‘fraid you got a listen’in problem. Told you before darlin’, I think ‘bout you every damn minute.”

He starts huffing, breathing quicker.

“Starts gettin’ bad when I'm on the job and I start thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

You push your hand on the mattress, laying flat on your back. Adjusting the phone to your other hand so the cord isn't in your way. Smiling mischievously to yourself. Running your nails along your stomach.

“What do you think about me when you're working?”

“Oh, Lord honey, all kinds of things. Your daddy gets so very lonesome without his yittle sweet thing. He starts thinkin’ ‘bout how it feels to have her legs wrapped around his hips. How her tiny sooties wouldn't be able to touch. If he put all his weight on her if he’d feel his cock in her stomach every time he fucks up into her.”

You can't speak, running his filthy words through your mind. How your feet wouldn't be able to touch just from how wide his hips are. The confidence he has in his size is a complete contrast to the insecurity he normally voices. You don't know what the change was in his ego but you love it. So much to the point where you cup your hand over your pussy. The warmth from your labia makes your arousal build. You can feel the dampness of your essence seeping through his lacy panties. Your clit is already swollen and throbbing from the friction of the elastic band.

“How-,”

You bite back a whimper, clutching the phone closer to your ear to hear his rapid breaths.

“How big are you?”

He chuckles under his breath, how innocent you are. He's talked to you about what he wants to do to you. You're not shy or bashful when you warm up to him. The fact of the matter was you were as much of a freak as he was, maybe even more. All you were was just a little minx.

“You know those glass co-la bottles that used to sell wild back in 55?”

“It's like that honey.”

You dip your fingers under the band of the panties, you tease the outer lips of your slit. Your folds are soaked in your juices. Hearing him talk in that dirty southern drawl makes your hips buck. The poor man can't even say cola right because of his accent. It causes your breath to hitch. You spread open the lips of your snatch and drag the wetness from your core to your clit. Up and down.

“Goddamn, I don’ even think my pinky could fit in your little cunt. I betcha you couldn't even take in your daddy's knuckle.”

He cleared his throat, the pause made you push two fingers into your fluttering hole. Automatically your back arches. You can only imagine his features pushing into you, how his cock would stretch you out. The burn of him pulling out only to plunge back in.

“How am I makin’ you feel?”

He pulls you closer to the edge, you can hear the wet squelch of your fingers fucking into your channel. Your palm flattens and rubs on your clit. Your body feels electric and pulsing with every thrust.

“Listen real close, daddy.”

You bite down hard on your lip to stifle a whine. Taking the phone from your face you place it between your thighs. Right above the hand, you're fingering yourself with. He groans loud and heavily into the speaker.

“Uh huh, mhm.”

The tension in your stomach snaps, and you can feel the rush flow from your abdomen and down into your hand. Your legs straighten out and you let go of the phone, soaking the plastic your bed and his panties. Your eyes roll back and your mouth parts as your breath becomes ragged. When you come back down to earth, the only thing you can imagine is his face stuffed into your neck telling you how good you did. You lift up and take the phone back up, wiping it off with your duvet.

“How’d that sound?”

“Lord have mercy on me.”

You smile at how astonished he sounds.

“That darlin’ sounded as good as the lord's gospel.”

“I swear to god daddy's gon’ fill you up, make you his forever. Allow you to be blessed by raising his kid. He’ll never be alone again having you as his little mama.”

This was new. His mantra about wanting to play house with you. Maybe it was because you had a crush on him or that your mind was still foggy but that didn't sound bad at all. Actually, it sounded like a dream.

“Did you cum daddy?”

He laughs into the phone, one of his warm authentic ones. The one that makes your stomach flutter.

“Honey, I finished when you told me you were wearin’ the little thing I gotcha.”

You blush, smiling wide. Maybe it's because of him telling you that he wants a future with you. Or the delusion that you'll have a life with him, but you can't help but ask him.

“When can I meet you?”

He sighs on the line, a deeply disappointing one. That crushes your soul a little. Your feelings get twisted slightly before he answers.

“Tonight.”

The line goes dead after his reply.

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