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headfullofpresley · 1 year

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Mommy's Kissing Santa Claus

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: Caroline considers Santa to be her own personal superhero, but she isn't too happy about catching him kissing you. Because no matter what, her Daddy will always be number one.

Word count: 5,5K

Warning(s): fluff, domestic life, Caroline being sad/angry, Elvis dressing up as Santa, smut; just a quick morning quickie that isn't too detailed tbh, roleplaying (kinda.. lol).

Author's note: this was requested a while ago by anon, so nonnie, i hope this finds its way back to ya! enjoy luvs <3

masterlist

“I saw Mommy kissin’ Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night. She didn’t see me creep down the stairs to have a peep; she thought that I was tucked up in my bedroom, fast asleep. Then I saw Mommy tickle Santa Claus underneath his beard so snowy white. Oh what a laugh it would’ve been if Daddy had only seen, Mommy kissin’ Santa Claus last night.”

Five year old Caroline adored Christmas. The decorations, the songs, the movies, the presents… but especially, Santa Claus. The bearded man that she believed flew across the world in his sleigh in the span of one night was a God to her.

While most children would weep upon the sight of a strange man in a red suit and a long white beard, Caroline was over the moon every single year. Even as a baby and before she could even speak a word, she would giggle and run up to whoever was dressed up as the man as soon as she could walk – or waddle.

She had no idea it was usually her grandfather or The Colonel who’d pay her a quick visit during Christmas day.

Caroline was the definition of a true Daddy’s girl, but Santa came pretty darn close to stealing Elvis’ spot during the month of December.

“Daddy, that’s wrong! Santa doesn’t have a green hat!” the tiny blonde giggled as she sat on top of the kitchen counter, looking at the freshly baked Christmas cookies her and Elvis spend their time on this afternoon. He purposely colored the hat of the Santa shaped cookie green, because he knew those little hawk eyes of hers would notice immediately.

“Maybe he does this year, honey,” he smirked at his daughter, licking some icing off his finger as he watched her laugh at him before shaking her head and returning her attention back on the tray of cookies. She squeezed a tiny dot of brown coloring gel on one of the reindeers, swinging her legs back and forth happily.

The red boots that she begged you to wear this morning were still on her feet, hitting the kitchen cabinets softly with her movements.

“You’re funny, Daddy.. but these cookies have to be perfect!” she told him with a stern voice. “What if Santa thinks we’re makin’ fun of him and won’t eat them? Mommy says sending letters to the North Pole takes a very long time,”

Elvis was often mesmerized by his daughter. Not only because she reminded him so much of both you and him, but also because she often spoke like she was much older. He figured it was probably because she spend so much time around adults when she wasn’t in school and she’d pick up anything she would hear.

Sometimes it caused for very funny conversations with her and sometimes she’d just embarrass Elvis and you when she had overheard the both of you talk about something or someone that was not meant to ever leave the four walls of this house.

Luckily, it had never been anything too serious.

“If Santa don’t like ‘em, I will deliver all those little apology letters of yours to him myself,” Elvis chuckled as he put the cookie he was working on on a Christmas decorative plate that had been hidden in the back of one of the cabinets. “But he will love your cookies. I bet he can’t get ‘nough of ‘em. Have you seen that fella’s tummy?”

Caroline looked up at him with wide eyes, taking the cookie with the green hat and shoving it into his hand. “Don’t be mean to Santa, Daddy, or you won’t get a present!”

He let out a hearty laugh, biting off the hat of the cookie as he squeezed her toes through her boots, making her squeal as she giggled and stuck her tongue out to him.

When all cookies were drawn on and she was satisfied with them, she took the plate Elvis handed her after he put her down on the ground and walked toward the staircase in the foyer. You had put a small table and a dining room chair right next to the stairs especially for Santa, your daughter unaware that you’d move the furniture back as soon as she was asleep and the cookies were eaten by you and her father.

“I need to get my drawing!” she told Elvis as she put the plate down and climbed up the stairs to get whatever she made for Santa to put it down with the cookies.

As she disappeared into her bedroom, you entered the house with shopping bags clinging in your hands and snowflakes covering your hair. You let out a huff as you closed the door behind you with your elbow, wiggling the cold and red tip of your nose.

“Next year I am back on baking duty,” you told your husband, trying not to crack a smile as he laughed at you and made his way over to you, taking the bags from your hands.

Usually, he would be the one doing the last minute shopping or have the things you needed to be delivered to the house but Caroline insisted he would stay home today and bake those cookies with her. All you really needed were some small presents for Vernon and Dee and some last minute groceries for tomorrow’s dinner.

You gave Mary the week off so she could spend time with her family during the holidays and you could provide a feast for yours.

“Sorry darlin’, can’t help it that she loves her Daddy more,” Elvis grinned as he took the presents out of the bags and put them underneath the tree in the living area before Caroline came back down. “If it makes ya feel any better, she got mad at me for talkin’ shit about her hero of the year,”

You didn’t miss the roll of his eyes and laughed, pulling the scarf you were wearing from around your neck. “She does not love you more, you’re just easier to manipulate,” you grinned teasingly at him, letting him take the grocery bags from you as well as he wandered back to you. “And she loves Santa more than you,”

You weren’t bothered by the fact that your daughter was a Daddy’s girl because when he’d be away from home and on the road, she would always stick to your side like glue. Elvis on the other side wasn’t so unbothered, hating that Caroline would not stop talking about Santa, Santa, Santa.

You loved to tease him with it.

“She loves that fool more than both of us,” he stuck his tongue out to you, walking into the kitchen to unpack the groceries and put them away. He chuckled softly to himself at the sound of your laugh and Caroline thundering down the stairs, running into your arms as soon as she saw you.

“Mommy, look! I made this for Santa to put with the cookies me and Daddy made,” she shoved the drawing in your face as you carried her toward the little nook you had created for Santa Claus himself.

“Wow Care, that’s beautiful! He will love it, baby,” you smiled at her, kissing her cheek as you placed her down so she could neatly place the drawing she made on the table, next to the plate of decorated cookies. The drawing consisted of three stick figures – you and Elvis being the taller ones and her being the small one in the middle.

Ofcourse, she had drawn Santa as well, only he was in an array of red crayon. You could only really recognize who it was by the white beard she managed to get quite accurate. It was cute.

“Did you buy enough milk, Mommy? He will be a lot thirsty,”

“Very thirsty, not a lot, baby,” you corrected her with a soft laugh, kneeling down next to her to look at the cookies. You could see which ones were decorated by her and which ones by Elvis. It didn’t really matter, they’d taste the same to you. “But yes, I have plenty of milk. We’ll pour him a glass before you go to bed, okay?”

“Two glasses?”

“If you’re a big girl and eat all of your veggies tonight, we’ll give him three!” you told her and she smiled excitedly, wrapping her arms around your neck as she leaned into you.

You were pretty sure she would definitely not eat all of her vegetables–she was her father’s daughter, after all–but you’d give her what she wanted and put three glasses of milk ready for Santa, anyways.

You found it hard to tell her no, because she was such a sweet girl.

She was your entire world.

Caroline surprised both you and Elvis as she shoved every single vegetable on her plate in her little mouth. It took her a while to chew everything down and she was the last to finish, but she couldn’t disappoint Santa, could she?

After sliding down chimneys all night, he must be extremely hungry and thirsty and she worked hard for those three glasses of milk.

You let them both go upstairs after dinner so Elvis could give her a bath and put her in her pyjamas as you cleaned the table and did the dishes.

Besides Mary, you basically gave everyone time off because you wanted to spend Christmas Eve with just your husband and daughter. Tomorrow the family and some of the guys would come over and the house will be rowdy again, so you were excited for the relaxing and quiet night you had planned.

You quite enjoyed yourself in the kitchen, cleaning and listening to the background noise that was the TV in the dining room.

You turned the TV off as you were done in the kitchen and heard Elvis and Caroline coming down the stairs. After getting some drinks, you followed them into the TV room and got ready for the movie Caroline had recently become obsessed with.

Scrooge.

She watched it with Dee’s sons a month ago and then made you and Elvis watch it with her again.

And again, and again, and again.

Neither of you could say no to her, even though you couldn’t care less about this movie.

Caroline snuggled in between you and Elvis, leaning into his side as her legs rested on your lap. She’d speak up now and then to point out a part in the movie that she liked and wanted you to pay attention to. But she had been running around all day, playing in the snow, helping Daddy feed the horses, baking cookies – she was tired, so tired that she couldn’t keep her eyes from fluttering shut despite loving the movie so much.

“Mommy!” she gasped softly as she shocked awake due to a loud noise from the TV, looking at you with wide eyes. “If I fall a-asleep.. wake me up, okay? I-I can’t miss.. Santa..” she mumbled, laying her head on Elvis’ chest as she pulled her legs in, holding onto his shirt with her tiny hand.

She didn’t seem to believe you when you told her that you would and looked up at her father. “Daddy, don’t forget, okay?!” she urged him, her voice thick with exhaustion and though her eyes were heavy, she wouldn’t put her head back down unless she got confirmation.

Elvis laughed softly as he looked at her, kissing her forehead. “I promise, yittle. Put your little head down,” he whispered to her, gently pushing her head back down on his chest as he tickled his fingers through her hair.

It didn’t take her long to drift off into a deep slumber.

You and Elvis didn’t wake her up, deciding that she needed all the sleep she could get for Christmas day tomorrow. She probably wouldn’t be too happy about it once she’d wake up and realise it was the next day, but she’d forgive you for it later. Especially when she’d see the presents she got from you and Elvis, her innocent little mind believing that they were from Santa himself.

“I’ll get her to bed,” you whispered as the movie ended which you and Elvis had talked your whole way through. Too comfortable on the couch to turn the TV off and move into the living room, plus Caroline looked too cute sleeping and you didn’t want to wake her. But it was getting late and you and your husband could use some rest as well.

“I’ll be upstairs,” he told you as you picked up Caroline in your arms, kissing your lips as he silently followed you up the stairs. You walked up the main staircase as Elvis made his way to the living room.

Thankfully, Caroline didn’t wake up when you carried her up the stairs and put her to bed. She mumbled something in her sleep and fuzzed in the sheets a little, but she went back to snoring softly before you left the room. You took the opportunity to clean up some of her toys that were scathered around the room and put the clothes away she wore today that Elvis put on her chair.

When you closed the door behind you afterwards and walked down the stairs, you frowned as Elvis was nowhere to be seen. The TV in both the dining and music room were turned off. The house felt empty.

“El? Baby?” you called out softly, looking around as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

Once he cleared his throat and you turned around, you saw him sitting in the Santa nook, cookie in hand and clothed in the Santa suit his dad or manager usually wore. You figured he must’ve put something around his waist, because he filled out the costume that would otherwise be too big for him.

“Merry Christmas to you, madame,” he grinned as he put the cookie down, slapping his hand on his thigh. You pressed your lips together, holding back a laugh as you walked over to him and sat down on his lap, slipping your arm around his shoulder. “Are these cookies for me, pretty lady?”

You cleared your throat a little, a soft giggle escaping your throat nonetheless. He had never dressed up as Santa for Caroline, both of you afraid that she would recognize him instantly.

You thought he looked ridiculous, but the way his voice deepened as he spoke to mimick a Santa like voice and his blue eyes were pretty much undressing you the second he saw you, you couldn’t help but feel a tingle run down your spine.

“They certainly are, mr. Claus. My daughter and husband made them especially for you,” you grinned, placing your hand on his stomach. Or rather the pillow you realised he had put in the costume.

“Your husband, you say?” he hummed, picking up the cookie once more as he took a bite of it now. “Isn’t he a lucky man to have such a beautiful little thing runnin’ around the place,” he put the cookie in front of your lips, his hand finding your ass as his arm was resting around your waist.

You feigned a gasp, gently pushing his hand away from your face as you looked at him. “My, mr. Claus. You’re very handsy, aren’t you? What would my husband think?”

“Well honey, your husband ain’t here, is he?”

He dropped the half eaten cookie back on the plate, wiping some crumbs off his fingers with the napkin you had put next to the plate earlier today. His palm squeezed your ass softly, pushing you firmly against his chest as your hand traveled over the hill of his fake belly and over his chest to wrap it around his neck.

“Now tell me, mrs. Presley. Have you been naughty or nice?”

His words made you want to rip that white beard he was sporting off his face and shut him up with a kiss. You didn’t feel awkward anymore at his little act–not when he was looking at you like that while his palm was shamelessly massaging your ass–and rather felt arousal seeping into your being.

Roleplaying wasn’t rare for you and Elvis, but you never thought him being dressed up as Santa Claus would get you as turned on as it did.

“I’m always very nice,” you told him as you laced your fingers together behind his neck, plastering your most innocent smile on your face. “But I can definitely be naughty too, mr. Claus,”

“Why don’t you show me how naughty you can be, darlin’?” his hand was quick as it reached up to his face, pulling the beard down before he leaned in to you. You giggled softly, gently swatting his hand away before you put the beard back in its place, kissing him.

He laughed softly against your lips but didn’t question you on it, instead fully trapping you against him as he wrapped his other arm around you as well, deepening the kiss.

Caroline shot up in her bed as soon as she awoke out of her sleep not even twenty minutes after you put her to bed. The little Presley girl didn’t think twice to hop out of her bed and walk over to the window, pouting heavily when she realised it was still night time and she was not downstairs waiting for her beloved Santa Claus right now.

You and Elvis promised to wake her and she felt betrayed that you hadn’t.

She had no idea what time it was and if you were still awake, but she figured getting caught would be worth the risk. Tiptoeing to her door, she slowly opened it and shuffled to the top of the stairs – when she saw that the only light that illuminated the foyer came from the Christmas tree, she very slowly and quietly stepped down a few steps.

Not wanting to scare Santa if he was already here, she peeked over the bannister of the stairs and widened her eyes as she saw the white bearded man with his signature red hat and suit sitting in the seat you and her had provided for him. She would’ve thundered down the stairs if it wasn’t for you sitting in his lap, lips pressed against those of her hero.

The one who provided her with the toys she wanted every year, the one who paid her a visit every Christmas day.

She loved him, but he was not her father.

Only Daddy was allowed to kiss you on the lips, not Santa Claus. Not nobody else.

Tears stung in her blue eyes as she grabbed onto the bars of the bannister, watching the kiss for a few seconds before she ran back up the stairs and hid underneath her blankets, silently crying herself to sleep.

You and Elvis were too occupied to hear Caroline coming up and down the stairs and as you tugged him up from the seat to take him into your shared bedroom, he quickly stole the plate of cookies along with him.

You and Elvis woke up early the next morning despite that Santa costume keeping you both awake until the dead of the night. You expected Caroline to stand at the side of your bed by now seeing it was already 8 o’clock because she could never wait until she was allowed to unwrap her presents. This morning, the bedroom was silent aside from Elvis’ soft snoring.

You sat up in the bed and looked at your husband, laughing softly as you took the Santa hat that was clutched in his hand, throwing it onto the floor. You leaned over to him and planted soft kisses on his shoulder and up to his face. He groaned softly as you woke him, his limbs stretching out in front of him before he turned to you and wrapped his arm around your waist, forcing you to lay back down next to him.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” you whispered with a soft laugh as he hid his face in your neck, squeezing you in his embrace.

“Mwerry Chwistmas, little one,” he hummed sleepily against your skin before he kissed your neck, the faint hint of your perfume that lingered in your neck making him roll onto his back, taking you right with him.

“We don’t get a lot of Christmas mornings like this one,” he mumbled as he grinned, his hands running up your thighs to squeeze at your hips.

He was right, you didn’t. You’d either be woken up by Caroline or by the doorbell that announced the arrival of today’s company. You told them to come a little later this year, so you and your family had time to actually eat breakfast and get ready for the day.

Now that you and Elvis had a bit of time for yourselves, he didn’t hesitate to take advantage of it.

His eyes caught sight of the Santa hat on the floor and he was quick to grab it before returning to his warm spot on the bed with you atop of him. “You had a lot of time with mr. Claus last night, it’s only fair if I get some sweetness from mrs. Claus,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he held out the hat to you.

You laughed and rolled your eyes, grasping it from his hand as you put it crookedly on top of your head. He bit his lip and moved his hands up your sides, slipping toward your front to squeeze your bare breasts in the palm of his hand.

Neither of you bothered to put on clothes before you fell asleep last night, so he didn’t need to wait for you to peel off pieces of fabric for you to raise your hips and sink down onto him.

He groaned as he moved his hands underneath his head, watching you ride him with a cocky smirk on his face.

“You look so sexy, baby,” he mummered as his eyes wandered down from your face to your bouncing breasts, voice sounding hoarse as it was still heavy with sleep. It only motivated you to go faster.

The idea of Caroline wandering into the room any minute was also on your mind, but Elvis didn’t mind you chasing your climax with slight hurry. He decided to help you get there even faster, reaching one hand down to circle your clit rapidly with his thumb.

The both of you had to bite down on your tongues to not moan too loud and while Elvis loved hearing you make those pretty sounds for him, he knew he could not make you truly scream while Caroline was also in the house.

Luckily for him, she had a sleepover planned at his father’s house next week.

Thanks to Elvis’ digit, you were quick to reach your climax and he followed not long after because of how visciously you were clenching around him.

“We should.. should check on Care,” you breathed as you ripped the fluffy hat off your head, throwing it across the bed before you leaned down and kissed your husband, who mumbled a soft agreement against your lips but made no movements to leave the warmth of the bed.

Caroline had been up before you and Elvis, but instead of walking into your room to tug on your blankets until either you or Elvis woke up, she went straight to the living room.

She was a girl on a mission today and it wasn’t a very fun one.

She was angry – at you, at Santa, and even a little bit at Elvis.

The little girl was still in disbelief of what she had seen last night. She just couldn’t wrap her little head around the fact that you kissed someone that was not Daddy and that Santa kissed you back.

And where was her Daddy while you exchanged smooches with her hero? He should’ve been there to stop it. Maybe even kick Santa’s ass a little.

She wandered over to the Christmas tree, taking the ornaments out one by one. Santa Claus didn’t deserve a nice tree anymore – if he would come by the house today, she would show him that she was angry with him.

Once you and Elvis came down the stairs and saw the bottom of the tree empty from its usual ornaments and Caroline gathering the sparkly garlands in her arms, you widened your eyes.

“Caroline, what is this?!” you exclaimed in confusion as you walked over to her to lift her up your hip. She crossed her arms firmly against her chest, the garlands crunching in her arms as she turned away from you with an angry expression taking over her features. “Caroline, I’m talkin’ to you,”

“I don’t want to talk to you!” she huffed as she stared at the chair by the stairs Santa had sat on last night.

“Caroline Mae Presley, don’t talk to your mother like that,” Elvis warned her as he stood next to you, looking at his daughter. But she didn’t look at him, hanging back in your arms so she’d be heavier for you to hold. “You know you’re not allowed to go downstairs before waking us. Why did you dissect the tree?”

She didn’t want to tell him or you how she was feeling, but she had a weakness for Elvis and she felt sad for him. He didn’t know what happened last night – while she was still young, she knew it was a bad thing. A bad thing that would hurt her precious father.

“I’m mad,” she mumbled and you allowed Elvis to take her out of your arms, walking over to the couch to sit down on it with her in his lap. She unfolded her arms and looked at her hands as you took the garlands out of her arms to put them back in their place.

“Yittle, if you’re mad, you come talk to Mommy or me. What does my tree have to do with anythin’, huh?” he grinned playfully at her as he tickled her sides. Usually, she would giggle and cheer up, but this time she pouted and pushed his big hand off.

“I’m mad.. m-mad.. at Santa,” she whispered, touching the small charm bracelet you gifted her for her last birthday that she never wanted to take off.

“Why, baby? Santa brought you a lot of presents,” Elvis told her as he nodded his head over to you. You smiled at your daughter as she finally looked up and you nodded, holding up a few wrapped presents Elvis put under the tree last night as you were putting Caroline to bed.

It looked like a smile was about to break the angry act she was putting on, but she huffed and looked down again. “I’m mad at Mommy too,”

You raised your eyebrows in confusion as you put the presents back under the tree, getting up to walk over to the couch. You sat down next to Elvis and looked at the pouty blonde in his lap, taking her small hands in yours. She pulled them out of your grip immediately, looking away.

Elvis saw the hurt in your eyes and sighed deeply, knowing playing nice would get him nowhere with his headstrong daughter.

He had finally met his match – it was more exhausting than he ever expected.

“Caroline, don’t be like that to your mother and tell us why you’re so mad. We don’t know what’s goin’ on if you don’t use your words,” he bounced his leg she was sitting on once, making her look at him with a glare.

Her face expressions softened a little when she saw both you and him looking at her so seriously and she couldn’t stop her bottomlip from twitching, her emotions getting the best of her. As soon as tears started welling up in her eyes, she pressed her face in Elvis’ chest and grabbed onto the shirt he was wearing.

“You and Mommy don’t love each other anymore,” she cried, her words coming out muffled. Elvis gently grabbed her shoulders, trying to pull her off him so she could speak more clearly but she managed to wrap her arms around his neck, clinging onto him. “And it’s all Santa’s fault,”

You exchanged a look with Elvis and frowned, running your hand through your daughter’s hair. “Honey, what are you talking about?”

Upon the sound of your voice, she pulled away from Elvis and looked at you, tears freely rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh Mommy, please don’t leave Daddy all alone!” she cried as she stretched her arms out to you. She had been so angry with you only minutes ago, but the thought of you leaving and running off to the North Pole with Santa Claus broke her little heart. You immediately took her in your arms and caressed her hair out of her face, wiping her tears away. “Don’t leave me and Daddy!”

“Care, how’d you get that idea? Baby, I’m not leaving you and Daddy,” you told her, kissing her forehead before she wrapped her arms around your neck and hugged you tightly.

“But last n-night.. you.. you.. were k-kissing.. S-Santa..” she hiccuped over your shoulder, squeezing you tightly in her little arms as if she was afraid you’d disappear into thin air. “You are in l-love with Santa C-Clause,”

You looked at Elvis and he widened his eyes, letting out a hearty laugh as he leaned back in the couch, throwing his head on the back rest of it. You gave him a warning glare but couldn’t stop yourself from giggling softly too, rubbing your hand up and down Caroline’s back soothingly as Elvis hid his mouth behind his hand to muffle his laughter.

“Care bear, look at me,” you chuckled softly as you grabbed her arms, pulling her out of your embrace so she’d look at you. Her hands rested on your shoulders as she sniffed, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “What you saw last night… was me hugging Santa…”

Elvis stopped laughing as he grinned cheekily, waiting for you to explain to your five year old what she had seen. You silently begged for help and he cleared his throat a little, scooting closer to you and Caroline. “Yittle, Mommy was comfortin’ Santa last night. You see, Daddy forgot to put his milk by the cookies last night and Santa was so sad, because he thought we had forgotten about him,” he explained to her as she looked at him, listening while repeating his words over and over again in her head.

“Yes! And I told him we definitely did not forget about him. He was also a little sad that you fell asleep, baby girl, so I gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek,”

She turned to you, her eyes still a little red as she sniffed once more. “Really?”

“Promise. Would we ever lie to you?” Elvis chimed in, smiling at her and she shook her head.

To her, you and Elvis were perfect and would never ever tell her a lie. Not a big one, nor a small one.

“No,” she whispered. “So you will stay with me and Daddy?”

You looked at her and laughed softly, nodding as you pressed a kiss on her cheek. “Yes baby, I’m going to stay with you and Daddy forever and ever,”

She smiled softly, nodding her head heavily as she seemed to buy the story you and Elvis told her. Honestly, it wasn’t a very good one, but the only thing you could come up with on the spot.

And for five year old Caroline, the story sounded solid.

“Okay,” she said, grabbing Elvis’ hand as she kept her other hand on your shoulder. “Daddy is more beautiful than Santa,”

Elvis grinned widely, raising his chin smugly. “That’s what I thought, honey,”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, rising from the couch with Caroline in your arms. “Now Santa, me and Daddy will appreciate it very much if you put the ornaments back in the tree. Let Daddy help you,” you grinned, kissing her temple before you put her back on her own two feet. She nodded and walked over to the tree, sitting on her knees as she did what you told her to.

Elvis slipped his arm around your waist, squeezing your ass as he pushed you against his chest. “Seems like we should keep the costume strictly for the bedroom, huh?”

“Definitely,” you laughed softly, kissing his chin. “Without the beard next time, though,”

“I didn’t hear ya complainin’ when I was in between your legs with it last night,” he whispered teasingly with a grin on his face, raising an eyebrow.

You playfully slapped his chest, laughing. “I was feelin’ festive, but Christmas is almost over, baby,”

“Not in this house,” he wiggled his eyebrows, leaning down to kiss you. The moment was interrupted sooner than he liked by Caroline who called out to him.

“Daddy, help me!” she yelled as she had managed to get herself twisted in a string of garland, looking at him with a goofy smile on her face.

“You truly are your mother’s child,” he laughed as he shot you a wink, walking over to his daughter to help her get out of the small trap she got herself into and to help her re-decorate the lower half of the tree.

You laughed as you watched them for a little bit before disappearing into the kitchen to start on breakfast.

In an hour or so, the house would be filled with family and friends again, disrupting the peaceful bubble you had been in since yesterday.

You didn’t mind it all that much, though. And as long as Caroline would have a good time, you didn’t care if the house was empty or full.

933 notes · View notes

candy-ishu · 1 year

Text

his baby doll

pairinlg: austin!elvis x little!reader

summary: you’re elvis’ baby doll. his princess, his little, his everything. and no matter what, he’ll always be there to love and spoil you.

warnings: none, just lots of fluff with little reader and caregiver elvis

word count: 1,604

note: this is my first fic with a little reader! i was nervous to post this to be honest because i understand that this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but these type of fics personally bring me comfort but if you dislike it please skip past it and don’t spread hate on my page. i have part two ready and feel free share any feed back you have for me. love you all. <3

you stared at elvis’ back as he sat at his desk, your frustration increasing by the second. he could hear your occasional grumbles and whines but he chose to ignore them nonetheless. You rolled on your stomach, stuffed animal tightly between your hands, and kicked your feet against the pillows at the top of the bed.

“daddyyyy,” you whined for what felt like the thousandth time.

“yes, baby girl?” his response was quiet and patient as ever, but it only annoyed you even more.

“m’ bored,” you whined again, dragging out the words for as long as you could before you ran out of breath.

“i know baby, i know,” he said quietly, eyes never leaving his papers. “just five more minutes, okay?”

“i don’t want to wait,” you complained, kicking the pillows harder. elvis continued to ignore your tantrum until finally, with an exasperated huff, you threw your stuffed animal across the room. it hit the wall next to a vase with a silent thud and you dropped your head onto the mattress in frustration.

“y/n,” elvis’ voice was still calm, but much more stern, and you could already hear the underlying threat in it. “look at me.”

“nuh uh,” you mumbled, voice muffled by the mattress but you shook your head in order to make your point clear. you could hear him stand up and walk over to where you were and when his voice came again, it was much closer.

“you want a spankin?” he asked and you immediately shook your head, though you still didn’t look up. “then look at me.”

you let out another huff of frustration but obediently looked up, your chin resting on the mattress as you met elvis’ blue eyes. he was kneeling down on the floor in front of you so he was eye level. his expression was serious, but he didn’t look angry. you waited for him to speak.

“you gon be a good girl for daddy while he’s workin?” he asked quietly after a moment. you were tempted to not answer, or maybe even say no, but you didn’t want to get yourself in any more trouble. you nodded silently so he continued. “do good girls throw tantrums?”

“no, but-” he raised an eyebrow at your before you could continue arguing, silently warning you. “no daddy,” you mumbled, settling to simply pout instead.

elvis sighed and brought up a hand to your face, brushing his thumb against your cheekbone. you leaned into his touch but still glared at him unhappily, making him chuckle. “i know you want my attention right now, baby girl, but i really have to finish this. i promise you i’m almost done. just give me five more minutes and then i’m all yours. we can do anything you want.”

your expression changed from irritated to hopeful, but you tried to contain it and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “anything?”

he nodded. “anything, babydoll.”

“go to the park?” you asked, a smile slowly finding its way to your lips from both the offer and the use of your favorite pet name.

he smirked a bit but nodded in agreement, “yes, we can go to the park.”

you let out a squeal of excitement that made him laugh and wrapped your arms around his neck. going to the park was your favorite, and you didn’t get to do it very often. “thank you, daddy,” you hummed, nuzzling your face against the crook of his neck in appreciation.

“you’re welcome, pretty girl.” he rubbed your back gently before pulling away enough to look at you properly. “now give daddy a kiss so he can go finish what he was working on.” you obediently leaned forward and pressed a loud kiss against his lips, your tantrum effectively subdued and your previous annoyance replaced with excitement.

elvis stood up again to walk back to his desk, pausing briefly to pick up your stuffie from the floor and hand it back to you with a warning smile. you took the stuffie with a quiet “thank you,” and avoided eye contact, the warning intimidating enough without you having to meet his gaze.

you rolled onto your back and held the stuffed animal in the air. it was a simple brown teddy bear with a cute pink bow tied around its neck. out of all the stuffies you had, and you had a lot, this one was your favorite. it was the very first one elvis had bought for you. he loved to spoil you rotten with all sorts of presents: stuffies, dresses, bubbles, bath bombs, and tea sets. you name it, he’d probably bought it for you at least once. but the amount of the gift never made them less special. they always reminded you that he was thinking about you, and it gave you something to look forward to when he would go on tour or have to travel to other cities for shorter periods of time.

in all honesty, the gifts made you uncomfortable at first. you knew he had the money to buy them for you, he was the king of rock and roll after all, but that was part of the problem. you knew he had money, he was an artist that was quickly rising up in the charts and showed no signs of coming down any time soon, he was famous, and most people would do anything to be connected to that type of publicity. but you didn’t want him to think that his status is what attracted you to him if anything, dating the king was complicated. it meant dealing with long hours of rehearsals and meetings, being away from each other for days or weeks at a time, and not being able to come over without dealing with six other people in the house. but it was worth it, or rather he was worth it.

and after countless conversations of “you don’t need to spend money on me” and “but i want to” you gave in and learned to accept that gift-giving was just a way elvis expressed his love, especially when he couldn’t physically be with you as much as he wanted. and it was kind of hard to argue when he would say things like, “let me take care of you darlin, providing for you makes me happy.”

“daddy,” you whined, patience once again beginning to wear thin.

“patience, baby,” he replied quietly, “two more minutes.” you let out a small grumble and he sighed. “how many seconds are in two minutes, baby doll?” he asked.

“ummmm,” you thought for a moment, “120?”

“mhm,” he hummed in approval. “good job, sweet girl, can you count to 120 for daddy?”

“uh huh,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see you, but you still sense his smile as you began counting. “one…two…three…”

elvis had always been remarkably good at keeping you entertained and subduing your boredom and tantrums, even before you fully embraced your relationship dynamic. he always acted like “such a daddy” and when you told him that one day he just grinned and said, “you should call me daddy then.” at the time, you weren’t sure if he was serious or not, so for a while, you would only do it teasingly, saying things like “yes, daddy” “okay daddy” “whatever daddy says.” but it didn’t take long for it to turn serious, especially when his response was to say things like “thank you, babydoll” or “that’s my good girl.” you think that all hesitations broke the first time he called you “his little girl” though, you’ve never gone into little space so quickly, and his smile told you he knew exactly what he just did.

you never really had to talk about it. it was more of a trial and error type of experience that was filled with a lot of “is this okay?” and “how do you feel about this?” there were a few times where boundaries were overstepped or things weren’t handled well, but safe words existed for a reason.

“a hundred and ten, a hundred eleven, a hundred twelve…” you could see him applying the last few signatures on his documents and beginning to put his papers away as you went through the final ten seconds. “a hundred seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty!”

elvis turned around in his chair and looked at you with a teasing smile. “if you’re only at twenty that means i have a hundred more seconds.”

“daddy!” you whined loudly, making him laugh. you weren’t nearly as amused.

“i’m kiddin darlin, i’m kiddin.” he reassured you as he stood up. “c’mon, we gotta get shoes and socks on so we can go to the park.”

“but i don’t want to wear shoes,” you complained, pouting as you moved into a sitting position on your shared bed.

he shook his head silently as he walked over to the closet and grabbed a pair of white socks and pink slippers. “you are so difficult today huh doll,” he muttered under his breath. “you need a nap?”

“no.” you defended yourself quickly, and rather unconvincingly.

elvis chuckled as he kneeled down in front of you. “alright baby, whatever you say.” you glared at him silently but didn’t argue, you really wanted to go to the park. he helped you put your socks and shoes on, one at a time. “alright darlin,” he said standing up, reaching for a pair of sunglasses to wear. “you ready?”

“uh huh!” you nodded and jumped up quickly.

he held out his hand for you to take and gave you his signature smile, “let’s go baby doll.”

pt. 2?

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austinsmutler · 11 months

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The Wonder of You - Austin!Elvis x Reader

Summary: While on your honeymoon in Hawaii, you and Elvis decide to try something new in the bedroom: taking photographs. You're a little bit unsure at first but Elvis is keen to show you how beautiful and truly sexy you are.

What you’ll like: Kinky Elvis, newlywed vibes, emotional connection while also just getting railed, erotic photography, Elvis appreciating every inch of you

Words: 1,600

Warnings: None, but there is some consensual smut. Minors DNI.

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want!)

You giggled as Elvis carried you over the threshold into the small hotel room. Small, because you had had a private wedding at Graceland and wanted to keep things private, if only for a week before he’d be back on tour. That meant a small honeymoon, far away from prying eyes.

So, one private plane trip to Hawaii later, here you were. The hotel was small, but the staff were known for their discretion, and for the first time since… ever, you and Elvis were alone. No Colonel, no screaming fans, no Memphis mafia. Just husband and wife.

“Elvis! Put me down!”

“Okay,” he grinned as he threw you on the bed. You screamed and bounced before scowling up at him.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Definitely.” He smirked, framing you with his fingers. “Mrs Presley, you look like a pretty lil painting.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. Elvis turned and locked the door, and you couldn’t help but rake your gaze over his body. You’d traveled in simple clothing to avoid suspicion: you in a sky-blue button-up dress, him in black trousers and a matching shirt that was barely buttoned down, the hair on his chest visible. You wanted to feel that body against yours, wanted so many things only he could give you.

Elvis turned and saw you squeeze your thighs together. He smirked, before a thought occurred to him and he bit his lip.

“What is it?”

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try.”

You sat up and beckoned him forward with a finger, leading him down for a kiss. “Tell me what you want.”

He made short work of your dress, stripping you down to your lingerie in minutes. While the dress was simple, your wedding lingerie made you look like a winning lottery ticket. White lace with black detailing, shimmering with rhinestones with every shaky breath you took.

Elvis stood above you, taking in your whole body before he leaned down and whispered, “I want to photograph you like this, honey. Just like this.”

You shuddered as hot hands trailed down your bare sides. Need shot straight to your core, pulsing in tune with your rapid heartbeat.

“Okay.” You whispered.

“Really?” Elvis pulled back with an almost boyish grin on your face. You bit your lip and nodded.

“Anything for my husband.”

Elvis pulled away to rummage through your suitcase. Light filtered in through the hotel window, bathing the room in a golden sunset glow. Elvis found the camera and turned around, humming as he took in every inch of your body.

“Mmm, My wife is so beautiful.”

“Elvis.” You gasped out a laugh, but it did nothing to hide the flush of your cheeks. The darkness in his eyes was intense enough, but with the camera that hovered over you, unblinking, you could combust at any moment.

“Look right into the lens, baby.” Elvis breathed, and you heard the click of the camera as he captured you, laid out on the navy blue hotel sheets. You bit your lip and he took another photo. Then another. And another.

Elvis focused all his attention on you, hands drifting over your bare skin, caressing your sides, your thighs. Positioning the blue satin to his liking. Snap. Snap. Snap. A shiver ran down your spine with every photo.

“Open your mouth just a little, baby. That’s it, you’re beautiful.” Elvis murmured, hardly blinking as he drank you in.

You grew wetter with every click of the shutter, much to your surprise. This was not something you’d considered before- cameras were for public and family events, not capturing the most intimate moments of life. E

ven wearing lingerie, this was the most naked you’d ever felt. The space between you and your new husband scorched your skin, goosebumps rising as he positioned his body over yours for a close-up.

Elvis was hard already, grinding slowly against you, capturing your every reaction as his length rubbed against you. The gasp you made when he pulled your bra down to tweak a nipple, the sigh when his tongue found the sweet spot on your neck and he sucked, turning the skin deep purple.

You probably weren’t even in focus for half of these, Elvis’ attention focused in front of the camera instead of behind it. But the clicking shutter still urged you both on, pulling a moan from low in your throat.

“You’re so beautiful.” He put down the camera to take your face in his hands, exploring your mouth with his tongue as if for the first time. His fingers hooked your bra strings, starting to slide them down your shoulders. “Can I take these off, baby?”

You knew what he was really asking, and nodded shyly.

“If you’re not comfortable, we can stop.”

You hooked your hands around his neck and pulled him down, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him closer. “I want it. Please, don’t make me beg.”

He purred against your neck. “Maybe later.”

Elvis sat up in bed, taking you with him so that you were on top. “Go sit on the end of the bed.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, but with a glance there, you understood. At the foot of the bed was an enormous mirror that spanned almost the length of the wall.

You sat. Waited. Held your breath.

“Spread your legs.” Elvis had the camera back in hand now, the clicking of the shutter resuming. He kissed down your neck and slid the bra from your shoulders before tossing it to the other side of the room.

You both groaned as his fingers found your wetness, rubbing you through the lace. “You like this, hmm Mrs Presley?”

You could only nod, reaching up to hook an arm around the back of his neck. “Please, E, please-”

What were you begging for? You couldn’t say. Couldn’t think as a finger dipped inside your panties and slid inside with no resistance. Before you could think of anything, two fingers curled inside you, hitting your spot with practiced ease.

“This what you want, baby?”

You whined, bucking your hips as his fingers stilled, waiting for an answer. You slapped his arm and Elvis chuckled.

“Is that a no?”

“Please. Please make me cum, I need to-” Words dissolved into a moan as Elvis redoubled his efforts, bringing you torturously close to the edge before his fingers stilled again.

“Why?” Tears sprang up behind your eyes. Elvis grasped your chin and turned you to face the mirror, where his eyes were black with lust as he scanned over your body.

“Because, wife, when you come tonight, it’s going to be because I’m inside you. Fucking you. I could get you there with my fingers right now, but I’d rather use my cock. What do you think?”

He punctuated the question with a few slow pumps of his fingers that left you bucking your hips, desperate for more contact.

“Fuck me.”

Click.

Heat surged through you as you thought of the photo he’d just taken: you were almost completely naked while he was still fully-clothed, two fingers knuckle-deep inside you. Your mouth open and panting, legs spread obscenely wide while he nibbled on your earlobe, whispering filthy things in your ear.

Elvis spun the two of you around so you were on your back on the bed, him kneeling between your legs, taking the white lace of your panties between his teeth, slowly tugging down your last item of clothing and flinging it over his shoulder.

His hot breath crested over your clit and had you tangling your hands in his hair, tugging desperately. “Please, you don’t need to- to-”

You stuttered as his tongue licked a slow trail to your clit, hips bucking as he set to spoiling you with his mouth. He slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, never once taking his mouth from you until your whole body quivered.

Elvis sat back to remove his shirt and trousers, which joined your underwear in a pile on the floor.

He knelt upright on the mattress, gripping your hips to pull you onto his cock. You both groaned as he sank into you fully, your legs wrapping around his hips and digging into his ass. If you’d stammered before, you were completely incoherent, unhinged as Elvis tortured you with slow strokes at first, before building up until the only sound that filled the room was slapping flesh.

“This what you wanted?” Elvis reached down to squeeze your breast. “This how you like it?”

“Deeper. Please, deeper. I n-need to feel you.”

Elvis growled and grabbed your hips with bruising force, hitting somewhere inside you’d never felt before. Everything else in the hotel melted away, your only anchor to reality was the soft sheets fisted in your palms as Elvis pounded into you relentlessly.

“Need you to come for me, baby.” Elvis’ blue eyes were dark with lust, body slick with sweat as he showed no signs of slowing.

You could do nothing but nod as he sped up, thumb pressing on your clit until you came in a blaze of white light and moans. Your whole body shook as Elvis followed you over the edge, releasing inside you.

He slowly pulled out and collapsed beside you, panting. Neither of you could speak as you caught your breath, still clenching around nothing.

When you could speak again, you turned to smile at your husband. “Well, that was a good start. What do you want to do now?”Elvis rolled on top of you with a growl, burying his face in your neck. “Mrs Presley, we are just getting started.”

#elvis imagine #austin elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #elvis x y/n #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis smut

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

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Pink Scarf - PART 17 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: SEXXX. Verbal Abuse. Assault, both sexual and physical. Blood. Violence. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 10k

A/N: PREPARE YOURSELVES, cuz this is an INTENSE roller coaster ride, y'all. Also, PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. I'm not gonna say much else, other than this is a beast and I cannot wait to hear the unhinged responses after. And thank you for your patience!

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)

“You need me?” you question him, honestly taken aback by the sentiment, even though he has said it before. It’s just still so hard for you to believe that a man like this needs a woman like you. Running your fingers through the soft, damp hair at the nape of his neck, you look at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, baby, I do. I really do,” Elvis says, wrapping his arms tight around you and pulling you close. His head buries in your neck, in your hair, breathing you in.

“Show me,” you whisper in his ear, surprised by your own boldness. But his declarations have you some kind of way and that coil is still like hot coals smoldering in your belly. You feel his body stiffen against you, knowing that he is even more stubborn than you and doesn’t want to give in to you just yet.

You run your hands over his exposed chest and under the deep V of the fabric, grazing over his nipple with your fingernails. He twitches and jumps under your touch, despite his efforts to stay neutral.

“I need you,” you breathe, pitching your voice up the slightest bit as you look into his eyes. And you do. You desperately need him, in every way. If you could crawl inside of him, you would. You need to believe his promises are true, that he will take care of you and be everything you need. You need him to show you.

This must read on your face, because he cannot seem to mask his response this time, his azure eyes widening and pupils dilating.

“Take care of me,” you say, your voice nearly a whine.

That’s the ticket. “Fuck, okay…yeah, let me take care of ya,” Elvis breathes in your mouth as his lips find yours, your sins forgotten for the moment, if not forgiven completely. His lips devour yours and your hands can’t get enough of him, starved from before when he had you tied up. They roam over his chest, wind around his neck and into his hair before scraping down his back and clawing at his waist.

Elvis pulls back for a moment and surveys the space in the room. You can see his wheels turning, then how his lips curve up in a smile as he figures out how he wants you. He leaves you hanging for a moment as he pulls a chair right in front of a huge, floor length mirror. Sitting in the chair, his legs spread wide, he beckons you to him.

“Come sit on my lap, baby,” he purrs at you, and you immediately obey, settling on one of his strong thighs and burying your head into that deliciously long neck of his. The salt of his sweat stains your lips. His strong scent surrounds you, magnifying your need for him. You suddenly feel very small in his arms in addition to that need. He seems to sense this, letting you first cuddle into him a bit before winding his large hand below your jaw and peppering kisses down your neck.

“Gonna be a good girl and do as I tell ya?” Elvis asks, his voice low and gravely as he grabs your chin.

You nod. He truly fucked the fight right out of you before, over there against the wall.

“That’s my girl. Now turn and face the mirror for me,” he says, guiding your hips to swivel in his lap. He pulls your dress up and over your waist, leaving you in your lacy panties. You feel a little self-conscious looking at yourself perched on his lap like this, your cheeks a flaming shade of red. You are very close to the mirror, too close. But you watch as your eyes go wide when he grabs your inner thighs, spreading them open with his large hands while sliding his strong thighs in between to keep yours apart.

The lacy fabric of your already-soaked underwear strains as he massages your legs from your knees to your hips. The groping shoots fire through you and you press back into his lap, encouraging him to continue. When he ghosts over your core, it steals your breath away, and you are so incredibly ready for whatever he has to give you.

“Let get these off,” he says, tapping your clit over your panties and causing you to jump with the sensation. Nearly frantic, you shuck them down and off with lightning speed, along with your heels. Elvis chuckles, spreading you open even further when you sit back in his lap. Your muscles strain with the stretch, but you don’t care.

“Be a good girl and put your feet up on the mirror for me,” he instructs, and albeit confused, you do as you’re told. “Nice and wide for me, honey. Yeah, just like that.” He scoots your hips down a bit as you adjust and cradles your upper body with his, his head resting over your shoulder, looking at you both in the mirror. You are completely exposed and utterly vulnerable before him once again.

“Now look at that,” he breathes almost reverently, “You’re stunning, in every way.” You both watch in the mirror as he runs his fingers down your face, your jaw, then over your body. You shiver in his lap, earning his famous lopsided smile in return.

Elvis gets more serious as his fingers reach your core. “But ain’t this the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he whispers in your ear, running his pointer finger ever-so-lightly over your folds as you watch. The combination of sensation and the visual you are not used to seeing has you squirming in his lap, aching. He locks his other arm around your pelvis, pressing you against him and immobilizing you.

“Be good, baby. You promised,” he says in your ear, and you watch yourself nod furiously, stilling. He commences his lecture. “I wantcha to see what I see, baby. Look at how pretty and red you are for me like this, all slick and swollen and needy,” he says, watching intently, hungrily, as his finger grazes your lower lips, up one side and down the other. You whine and grip his arm for purchase, feeling like he is calling all the blood in your body to gather in your cunt. It feels heavy and pulsing, burning with need for him.

Elvis brushes up to your clit. “Hmm, one of my favorite little spots,” he hums, circling it softly, making you keen as you lean back into him. Then, obscenely, he uses his first two fingers to spread your lips apart. “Christ, baby, look at that,” he says, voice filled with lust and awe, “You’re fuckin’ weeping for me.”

Your eyes travel down to your exposed hole, and sure enough, you are literally dripping with arousal, both yours and his. It glistens as it gathers, a slow, eager little drop sliding out. You cannot stifle the low moan that escapes your lips at the erotic nature of this little show, your pussy buzzing with heat and want, on display for all to see.

Elvis senses you need more, and he lets your folds wrap around his long middle finger, dragging it up and down through your slick as you watch.

“Oh, god,” you sigh, thankful for the friction, your hips automatically rolling for him.

“Touch yourself, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” he says, moving your hand over your mound and guiding your fingers in slow circles over your clit before he returns to rubbing in between your slick lower lips. The wonderful combination makes your eyes flutter closed and your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Nuh uh! Eyes open!” Elvis nudges you, and your eyes pop open. “I want you to watch yourself come, baby. I need you to see what I see.” He smiles, and it’s almost boyish in its mischievousness.

It’s not going to take much, considering how primed that coil was before you even sat down, and how strangely erotic this whole scene is. How it’s making you feel lightheaded and buzzy and hot all over. You begin to work your clit furiously, watching as Elvis runs his fingers over then through your sopping, swollen folds. When he dips one long finger, then another into your weeping hole while you watch, the string of curses that leaves your lips is utterly filthy.

Your senses are overloading, which you imagine was his intention. The sight of you swallowing his fingers so needily, so readily, your arousal shining, the wet suckling sound coming from your cunt as he expertly works his fingers in and out of you pushes you headlong to the edge. Coupled with this and your barrage on your clit, you hit your climax hard with a loud cry, pressing your heels into the mirror with such force, you’re afraid you might crack it.

“Look, look, look, baby,” he pants, forcing your focus back to him, back to what he’s doing to you. “Look at how you flutter around me!” He’s right; you watch, mesmerized as your hole clenches at his fingers through your orgasm, and fuck if that isn’t amazingly hot.

You whimper at the sight, shuddering and panting at the exertion. He chooses that moment to curl his fingers, pressing that special spot inside you that is only his, and another wave of pleasure shoots through you so strongly that you lose your breath. You crest the hill again, stars shooting through you, forgetting that you ever came here to break this off, to run away from him.

There is a wild, desperate look in your eyes that you’ve never seen before as you writhe against him in your ecstasy, keeping you fucking down onto his fingers even though you are sore from before. You can’t stop the waves that keep crashing over you, engulfing every inch of you as you watch it happen before your eyes.

And Elvis looks gorgeous, those blue eyes flashing with his magnetic sexual energy, his pouty lips open and pink and panting right along with you. He is hard again, his length pressing into your spine through his suit as you furiously roll on his fingers, and you can feel him begin to shudder underneath you. You know he gets off on watching and this is quite the show. You rock your hips more deliberately now, feeling the length of him slide between your ass cheeks, and he groans.

“Am I gonna make you come in your pants, E? Gonna make a mess for me?” you mewl seductively, wanting to push him over the edge, too. “You like watching me get off on your fingers, don’t you?”

“Jesus, baby, yes,” he moans, “but I need to watch you come again. Come with me, honey.”

You’re not sure you can. You are overstimulated and over stretched and near hysterical with pleasure. Your heart is thrumming so fast you can barely breathe.

“You can do it. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you, baby. Watch me take care of you,” he pants heavy in your ear, his eyes glassy, unable to take his eyes off your pussy. He moves his hips in tandem with yours now, then without warning, slides a third finger inside you.

Your eyes are glued to the mirror, seeing just how well you take him. You automatically adjust to him, and he works you as only he knows how. You work your clit and grit your teeth as you feel that coil poised to spring again.

“E-El-El-vis…F-f-fuckkk!” you cry breathlessly, coming completely undone around him again.

“Oh, fuck, honey…GodDAMN!” he groans into you simultaneously as he slams his hips up with a violent shudder that matches your own. You can feel the heat pulse under you, dampening the fabric of his suit.

But you continue to shake and shiver on top of him, your orgasm ripping through you, stealing everything you have left, draining every ounce of energy from your reserves, which isn’t much considering the insanity of the last 24 hours. You sense much too late that your body cannot keep up. Your heart is too fast, your breathing too labored, and your muscles too weak.

You shouldn’t be surprised, then, when your body goes limp, the blood drains from your head with a cold rush, and the world goes dim and then black.

“Y/n! Y/n! Jesus, Satnin, c-come on baby, w-w-wake up!” you hear Elvis’ panicked voice from far away, but you are so very tired and just want to sleep, thinking maybe it’s a dream.

…no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I lo…The faraway echo of long-ago words in this too familiar panicked voice fades away like a dream. You slip back into darkness.

It’s the piercing fear in his voice when he calls your name again that has you finally coming back into yourself. You blink a few times, willing the world to come back into focus, confused.

“O-oh, shit. Oh, t-thank God,” Elvis breathes. He is right above you, his eyes bright and flooded with fear, near tears.

“Wh—what happened?” you murmur, feeling buzzy and strange, and like things aren’t moving fast enough.

“You scared the shit outta me is w-what happened!” he looks down at you, now placed on the couch, his eyes quickly shifting from fear to anger. “You—you just fuckin’ collapsed!”

Your eyebrows furrow as you try to remember what happened. You’d come here to break up with him, to tell him you were leaving…then you argued. Then you fucked. The mirror.

Oh, god, had you passed out from coming too hard?

You start to giggle at that, uncontrollably.

“Baby, what the fuck? It’s not fuckin’ funny!” Elvis fumes, leaning over you.

That just makes you laugh more. “I came…s-so h-hard I p-passed out!” you hiccup out.

“That’s not normal!” he cries, throwing his hands up in the air.

Another peal of laughter at the absurdity of it rolls through you. He’s not wrong, but whatever is happening to you seems to be overpowering your sense of self-control.

“Are you on something?” he asks suddenly, grabbing your jaw to get you to focus. He looks over you carefully and then a flash of horror comes over him at what you assume is the thought that he’s somehow taken advantage of you.

“N-no, of course not,” you finally manage to get out. You are shivering now though, and suddenly freezing. “S-something’s not r-right,” you finally chatter out.

“No shit,” Elvis mumbles, eyes narrowed, obviously trying to figure out what’s wrong with you. “Baby, when was the last time you ate?” he asks.

You blink at that, trying to run through the last day in your mind, but all the days have been running together. You honestly don’t know.

“I-It’s been at least a day, I think,” you finally eek out. “Maybe l-longer?”

“’Maybe longer?’ Goddammit, y/n, you can’t just go without fuckin’ eating!” he yells, getting up from the couch and storming over to the phone at the other end of the room. You hear him ordering someone to bring food immediately as you attempt to sit up, but your dizziness has you lying back down quickly.

Yeah, well, maybe if I wasn’t in a constant swarm of emotional and physical upheaval for the last week, I would remember to eat, but who’s fault is that?

Elvis slams down the phone and paces back over to you. “When was the last time you slept, y/n?” he angrily asks now, his eyes a churning gray-blue, as he pulls your dress down modestly and throws one of his plush robes over you.

“Um, on the r-roof,” you get out.

“Christ, that was barely sleep,” he mumbles, obviously frustrated as he continues to pace the room. “You have to take better care of yourself, y/n!” he erupts.

You recoil a bit but are touched by his anger, knowing it is fueled by concern. But you are also annoyed because it isn’t all your fault.

“Well, I’ve been a b-bit busy,” you manage.

“Not that fuckin’ busy!”

He’s not getting it. You shake your head, tears coming to your eyes.

“Th-this is part of the problem, E. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, I’ve been so s-stressed, I don’t know which way is up…” you shiver out.

He halts. Your words must be sinking in because the blood drains from his face and you’re suddenly afraid he might pass out.

“This is because of me,” he finally says. The way he phrases it, you’re not sure if it’s a question or statement.

“It’s not—” you start, not wanting him to spiral more than he already is.

“Goddammit, you’ve been tellin’ me you’re strugglin’, and I been yammerin’ at you to trust me to take care of you and then I did the opposite. Shit,” he curses. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Elvis deflates onto the couch next to you and pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids.

You are too tired to respond other than to brush the errant tear that runs down his cheek with your thumb. You wish you could see this sensitive side of him more often.

“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna get some food in ya, then I’m sending Jerry with you upstairs so you can rest—”

You open your mouth to argue.

“There’ll be none of that,” he hushes you. “There’s no way you’re doin’ the show tonight. And Jerry’ll get you woken up before we come up after the show, and everybody’ll be none the wiser.” He gives you a stern look.

There’s no point in fighting him or telling him how his plan could go wrong. You’re still confused exactly how things with Jack are going to be handled or if anything Elvis said while fucking your brains out earlier was going to come to fruition, but you’re not in the frame of mind to try and solve that this minute. So instead you just nod.

The food comes, somehow all of your favorites. He knows my favorite foods? runs through your mind, but you are too hungry to dwell on it. Then, as he instructed, you head upstairs with Jerry, who without judgement, sends you into Elvis’ suite to rest. You think your mind won’t possibly let you sleep, but between the food and your exhaustion, you drift off before your head hits the pillow.

Circle G Ranch, February 1967

You wake up early, your eyes blinking out the dull winter morning light streaming through the window. Well, it’s not early for normal standards, but in Elvis’ world, most haven’t even gone to bed yet, you think, looking at the clock. You being awake now is likely due to the fact you couldn’t keep up with the partying last night and had excused yourself much sooner than usual to go to bed.

It takes you a moment to realize where you are. Being at Elvis’ newly acquired ranch in Mississippi has been a welcome change of scenery yet is still a little disorienting. You are used to Memphis, and even occasionally California, but this place is new for you all.

Completely dissatisfied and not having any semblance of control with his career, Elvis recently decided that he wanted a place in the country, a place where they could all come to relax and ride the horses he’d bought for all the men and their wives. A place where they could work the land and have a little fun. And you wonder if he just wanted to feel a little normal for once, thinking that a ranch would do that for him, that it could give him the control he so desperately craved. That maybe it might bring him some of that happiness and zest for life that had been bled out of him for all these years, turning him into someone you barely recognized.

So, Circle G Ranch was purchased, and you’d all arrived to take in its splendor and fresh air. And it was working. Elvis seemed happier here than he’d been in a very long time, the sparkle beginning to return in those expressive eyes of his. And when Elvis was happy, everyone else was allowed to be happy too, theoretically.

You think maybe all that horseback riding and fresh air is part of the reason you were so tired last night. Turning over, you notice that Jack hasn’t come to bed. Your heart sinks, though out here in the middle of the country, it’s not like he can get in too much trouble. It’s just likely the guys are still awake.

Either way, there is an emptiness in your chest that misses your husband. Each time he leaves with Elvis, less of the man you knew returns. You are hoping that some leisure time on the ranch will help him, too. There is less temptation out here, and more opportunities for you two to spend time together.

Unfortunately, he has not been very receptive to that so far, opting to hang with the guys more than you. But considering that he has been drinking more, part of you is glad for it. If the last couple of years have shown you anything, it’s that Jack is a mean drunk, just like his father.

With that thought, you decide to get up instead of dwelling on things you cannot change. As you get dressed, you hear the door of the trailer slam.

“Jack? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” he replies belligerently. The tone of his voice tells you immediately all you need to know. Your heart speeds up as a warning discomfort blooms in your chest. You steel yourself before walking out into the living area.

“Morning, sweetie. Want me to make you some breakfast?” you ask in a light and easy voice. If nothing else, food might help sober him some.

Jack’s response is a grunt in the affirmative, and then he shoots you a glare, his brown eyes dull but cutting all the same. You have no idea what you may have done to upset him, but he is obviously not happy with you. The tightness in your chest increases and you force a smile, not wanting to set him off. If you act like everything is fine, he might forget what is bothering him. It happens that way sometimes and is generally the best-case scenario when he’s like this.

“Okay, I’ll get that started,” you smile, and he settles with a huff on the couch. Scurrying off to the kitchen, your smile falls and you get to cooking as quickly as possible. Steak and eggs, you think. That’s his favorite and will help clear his head.

Your mind races as you cook, trying to find a reason for his ire. You dissect every moment from the day and night before but cannot pinpoint anything in particular that you might have done to make him upset. This has you feeling uneasy, on eggshells. If you knew what you’d done, you could apologize and make up for it before things get out of hand, but it occurs to you that he might be too far gone for that anyway.

Lost in your thoughts, it takes until you smell the meat smoking to realize you may have cooked it too long. You are hoping he is too drunk to notice. With renewed focus, you plate your breakfasts and walk to the tiny table.

“Soup’s on, babe!” you say in a cheerful sing-song voice. Part of you cringes inside to hear yourself like this.

He grunts off the sofa and stumbles to the table, plopping down with a screech of the chair. You keep yourself from wincing at the sound, wanting to stay as sunny as possible as you begin to cut into the meat. You’re unable to keep from looking up at him to check his body language, his affect, as he begins shoveling eggs and toast into his mouth without so much as a word to you.

You pick at your own breakfast, your appetite low because you feel so on edge. You can sense the tension in the room and know better than to speak at this point.

“What the fuck is this?” Jack grumbles, throwing his knife and fork clattering onto the plate.

You look up quickly, your heartbeat skipping. He’s fuming now, his eyes bloodshot and narrowed at you, his scar an angry red with the flush on his cheeks. You don’t have time to piece together whatever has happened before he continues, his voice shaking low with anger.

“First, you embarrass me by taking off in the middle of everyone having a good time last night. Everybody asking, ‘What’s wrong with her, is she okay?’ blah, blah, blah,” he says with a mocking venom that sends a chill right down your spine. “And now you can’t even make me a decent breakfast. Can’t even get that right,” he growls, pounding on the table.

The table rattles and you start to shake a little, frozen to the spot. You realize that maybe Jack is more than just drunk, that maybe he took something on top of it that has him worse than usual.

“I…I’m sorry, I was just tired from all the activity yesterday, and I can make you a new—” you sputter out quickly, but still unable to move, trapped in his furious gaze.

“I don’t wanna hear your fuckin’ excuses, you stupid bitch!” he screams, exploding out of his seat, the chair toppling over behind him with a clatter. “What I want is a fuckin’ steak that’s not cooked to death!” he roars, then picks up his plate and hurls it over the table near your head. You barely have time to register what’s happening, leaning out of the way at the last second on pure instinct, and the plate careens into the wall behind you with a crash, sending food and ceramic flying everywhere.

Your brain misfires and your heart leaps to your throat, the terror in your veins pulsing through you so intensely that all you can do is turn and run. You have to escape because you don’t know what he’s gonna do, he’s never thrown anything at you before, and he’s yelled, yes, but not done anything to hurt you, and oh, god, you have to get out, get out, GET OUT.

You fly past Jack, his rage too consuming and his senses too dull to catch you as you go, and you are out the door of the trailer in a flash, not stopping to see if he’s following you. No, all you can think is you have to get away, you have to escape, and you fly through the rows of trailers housing the other men and their wives. Your heart slams against your ribcage, fueling your body forward as you sprint down the dirt road towards the barn in the distance. Your socks stick to the cold ground as you run but you don’t care—all you need is to get to the horses. You’re not sure why, but you just know that if you can get to the horses, you’ll be safe.

You run and run, only hearing the crash of the plate in your ear, feeling the splatter as it shatters behind you. Only hearing Jack’s screams, “You stupid bitch! You stupid bitch!” You don’t even register the tears burning down your cheeks as you finally reach the barn, flinging open the door with what little strength you have left and frantically looking in the stalls for the horse that Elvis gave you.

Moonbeam. You finally see her near the other end of the barn, her gray and white coloring standing out in the sea of darker equines. You skid to a stop in front of her. Knowingly, as if she can sense your distress and your need for her large, calming presence, she turns and pokes her head out of the stall, nuzzling your tear-stained face.

“Oh. Oh,” you gasp, completely out of breath from the exertion. You cling onto Moonbeam’s strong neck, her coat soft and warm under your shaking arms. Your chest heaves, desperately trying to take in air. If you could, you would jump right on Moonbeam’s back and ride as fast and as far as you can, but she is not saddled, and you have no idea how to get her ready.

The light tap on your shoulder sends you flailing into the stall door with a shriek.

He’s found me he’s found me he’s found me, is all that runs through your head, though if you were anywhere near logical, you’d know that Jack was in no state to chase you all the way to the barn.

“Hey! Hey, y/n, it’s okay! Honey, it’s just me!” You turn toward the warm, familiar voice and are met with concerned deep blue eyes, a far cry from Jack’s bloodshot and brown glaring ones.

“Oh,” is all you can manage to huff out as you look at Elvis, your muscles starting to burn and shake. Your heart is still beating too fast.

“Are you okay? What the hell happened?” Elvis says worriedly but gently, looking over you, seeming to sense how on edge you are. He goes to touch your shoulder, but you reflexively shirk backwards, knocking your elbow into the door with a thud. He quickly backs away a step, putting his hands up in a non-threatening way.

You suddenly slam into the present moment, realizing that you must look insane. Your hair is windblown, you are makeup-less with tears streaking down your face. It’s the dead of winter and you are without a coat or shoes, your socks dirty and torn and bloody from your sprint. You have food splattered down your left side, and you are gasping for air like you’re drowning.

“Y/n, I need you to tell me if you’re okay,” Elvis says, quiet and calm, as if talking to a spooked horse.

You glance over his shoulder, suddenly afraid that Jack could stumble through the barn door at any moment. Wide-eyed and frantic, you look back at Elvis. You realize he’s between you and the door and that gives you some comfort. Jack would have to get through Elvis to get to you, and while you know you’re not in your right mind, you are completely certain that Elvis wouldn’t let Jack hurt you.

With this relieving thought and your adrenaline beginning to wane, you suddenly feel extraordinarily tired as well as embarrassed that Elvis is seeing you like this. You realize he’s waiting for an answer, but you cannot speak. You don’t want to bother Elvis with any of this, so you nod your head, bobbing it up and down quickly.

Elvis tilts his head and looks at you perceptively. Of course you’re not okay, and Elvis reads it all over your face and appearance. You finally give up under his watchful gaze, shaking your head. It falls back against the door behind you, and you choke back a sob. Your exhausted body shakes with cold and the remnants of your fear, and you slide down the door, unable to support yourself any longer.

“Oh, shit, okay. Honey, it’s okay,” Elvis coos at you, stepping quickly to your side but not wanting to touch you and invade your space, lest you freak out again. Instead, he slides down the door with you, letting you lean into him for support. And you do. As you reach the cold, straw-covered ground, you lean your head onto his shoulder, his warmth radiating comfortingly into your side. You begin to shiver.

“Here, baby,” he says, taking off his thick coat and wrapping it around your shoulders. Immediately, you feel calmer, as the heat and his distinctly Elvis scent of musk and Old Spice, coupled with the woodsmoke from last night’s campfire surrounds you like a blanket.

You both sit in silence for a while as your body comes back down from the fear of Jack’s outburst. He’s yelled at you before, even called you names, but he’d never gotten so close to actually physically hurting you.

He must’ve been on something, you think. Jack would never hurt me.

I should’ve been more careful with the breakfast. I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve stayed up last night with him. The thoughts run through your head, as though if you examine them enough, you can possibly avoid setting him off in the future.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Elvis asks quietly, sensing the wheels turning in your head as only he can.

Humiliated, you shake your head vehemently. Elvis does not need to know the specifics of your marriage. He does not need to know of your failures.

But part of you wants to tell him he’s created a monster.

Without Elvis, Jack might never have gone into the bottle. Without Elvis, he wouldn’t be taking other shit that makes him fly off the handle at any moment. Without Elvis, without Elvis, without Elvis…

You are too exhausted for blame and anger right now, though, so you bury it instead. It is what it is.

Elvis doesn’t push you, though you can tell he wants to know everything. You can practically feel that he’s quelling some deep instinct to protect you, his muscles tensing and releasing, his jaw working. But maybe he begins to piece it all together himself because he remains quiet. You are safe now, and that’s what matters, right?

And perhaps it is your heightened emotions, but you suddenly crave the nearness of the man who used to be your best friend. The man that, for reasons you don’t entirely understand, time and circumstance somehow stole from you when you weren’t looking.

So you lean into him, into his strength and sensitivity and his unique power to draw you to him, even when part of you wants to blame him for everything. Even after all these years of confusing behavior and emotional distance, you can’t begin to imagine your world without Elvis Presley in it.

And now you sit here on the cold floor of a horse barn in the middle of the Mississippi countryside in the dead of winter, wondering how in the hell your life became this.

Jerry wakes you gently with a whisper and a poke on your shoulder but you startle anyway, pulled out of the dream violently with a gasp.

“Sorry, y/n, but everyone is on their way up soon. EP told me to wake you,” he says apologetically.

The room is dark, and you are still exhausted, but you are somewhat grateful to be pulled out of that dream-memory. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth and a sick feeling in your stomach. You can’t help but chastise yourself for letting Jack grovel the way he did after he’d sobered up that day, for how you forgave him so easily because it certainly was not the last time he went crazy like that on you.

“Thank you, Jerry. I’ll be right out,” you say blearily. You blink the sleep from your eyes and stagger into the bathroom to make yourself presentable.

Anger at Jack festers like an open wound, but the dream has also reminded you of your anger towards Elvis about all of it. That makes you feel uneasy, especially coupled with that nagging feeling that he is hiding something from you. You don’t want to feel angry at Elvis, but some of his actions over the years have contributed to your overall dissatisfaction with your life.

You didn’t fully realize until now how upset it had made you that he just stopped being your best friend one day. You still don’t understand all of it, though you feel like these unearthed memories are trying to get you there. But it doesn’t change the fact that both he and Jack abandoned you in different ways. And this pisses you off.

Fucking men, you think, touching up your makeup and straightening your dress. Your unease deepens when you realize you are going to face the group very soon and you have absolutely no idea what Elvis is going to do or even if he will do anything. Is he just going to pull you to his side and tell Jack to go fuck himself? Is he going to act like it never happened at all? You’re not sure which is worse.

Your stomach churns and you desperately need to talk to Elvis before he does something stupid. Panic rises, but you slam it back down, willing yourself to just be normal for the time being.

Be normal. What a laugh. As if any of this is remotely normal.

Steeling yourself, you head out to the living room just as people start walking through the door. Sandy finds you immediately, giving you a concerned and questioning look. You can’t tell if she’s surprised to see you or not, but you turn from her, still annoyed that she ratted you out (even if it was in an attempt to help you).

As the room fills and bustles, something is itching at you, poking at the corners of your mind. You think maybe it is paranoia. It feels as though Red keeps shooting knowing, snide looks your way. You can’t help but examine everyone around you, searching for signs that they know. You squirm in your skin, unable to get comfortable.

It doesn’t help that Jack slides in behind you when you aren’t looking, wrapping his arms around you a little too tight. He reeks of whiskey and cigar smoke so badly you choke. “Where you been, treasure?” Jack asks a little too pointedly, suspiciously, as if he knows something is up. Your heart plummets and you resist the urge to push him away but can’t help but try to worm your way out of his clutches as Elvis strolls in the room.

Elvis’ intense eyes find you immediately, and you watch his jaw clench as he keeps himself in check. You manage to slip out of Jack’s grasp and Elvis relaxes a bit, distracted by one of the guys. It seems like he doesn’t want to make a scene over the two of you in front of the group, which has you breathing a sigh of relief.

What doesn’t have you relieved is that Jack is once again all over you as everyone finds a seat. You feel trapped as the conversation begins to flow, wanting nothing more than to go hide in Elvis’ room, far away from the fumbling hands of your husband. His hands are heavy on you, creeping up your thigh, drawing circles on your shoulder with his fingertips. It used to be a comforting gesture, but now it feels possessive.

He knows. Maybe Red already told him, you panic. Your heart gallops in your chest and you try not to lose it.

No, don’t be an idiot. He wouldn’t be this quiet if he knew, right? Jack is a few drinks in at this point, and the more he drinks, the louder he generally gets. Though based on his hands, you think that he is feeling something else altogether.

You can feel Elvis’ jealous eyes bore on you as Jack touches you, but you are caught between a rock and a hard place. If you shirk your husband’s advances to obviously, it will seem strange and garner attention, but if you don’t, you fear Elvis will give you both away. And you aren’t ready for that, not before the two of you come up with a cohesive plan.

If you are going to leave Jack (no, when you leave Jack, you remind yourself), you certainly don’t want to do it in the middle of an afterparty with the whole gang listening in.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” you finally whisper, excusing yourself with a forced smile, needing to escape Jack’s clutches. “You need anything?” you ask.

“Oh, I need something alright,” Jack breathes sloppily in your ear, attempting to be seductive and failing. But it has an edge to it that worries you.

“You’re hilarious, babe,” you say as sweet as you can while standing to make your escape. Jack takes the moment to grope your ass and you can almost feel the wave of irritation coming off Elvis from across the room. “I’ll get you a drink,” you sputter out, sliding out of Jack’s grasp, shooting Elvis a quick, warning glance to not do anything stupid. Then you scurry away as fast as you can without seeming strange.

Instead of heading to the kitchen, you make a beeline for the bathroom, desperately needing a moment away from all the eyes you feel are on you tonight, wanting things from you that you cannot give.

Fucking men, you think again, closing the door behind you.

To your shock, it doesn’t close. Jack pushes in and your heart drops into your stomach. The look in his dark and muddled eyes bodes nothing good.

“Hey, treasure,” he slurs with that disturbing edge to his voice, grabbing your waist and pulling you in for a sloppy, whisky-tinged kiss. You try rather unsuccessfully to not cringe at the feel of his lips on yours.

Maybe he’s too drunk to notice, you hope.

“I thought you were going to get drinks,” Jack says suspiciously. He locks the door behind you, warning bells exploding in your brain for a multitude of reasons, one being Elvis breaking the door down, another being whatever Jack expects of you.

“I had to pee first, babe,” you say as evenly as possible, “Now get so I can!” You playfully swat him on the shoulder, as you’ve done a million times before in your life together, but this time is different. This time, Jack’s chocolate eyes blacken as he grabs your wrist.

Your breath catches, and your heart starts to speed up as Jack’s hand tightens. “Honey, you’re hurting me. Let go,” you whisper.

His dark eyes rake over your body with what you think is lust, but it is tainted with something frightening. “Oh, I think you came in here because you wanted something else,” he says, backing you into the vanity. “You know, some of the guys are saying that you’re stepping out on me. Can you believe that?” His head buries in your neck, his lips dragging roughly against your skin.

Fucking Red.

“W-What? That’s ridiculous,” you manage to eek out, trying to lean away from his touch, but there is nowhere for you to go. Your heart is in your throat, but before you can say anything else in your defense, he’s changing the subject.

“You’re wearing this scarf again?” Jack questions because it impedes his barrage of his mouth on your neck. He unties it and you watch the pink and black silk flutter to the floor.

“It goes with my outfit,” you reply. You attempt to push him away but get nowhere, his broad chest stubbornly immobile. “Seriously, Jack, I need to pee,” you whine now, hoping that will do the trick. Every nerve in your body is on alert as he kisses your skin, as he presses into you. You can feel the bulge in his pants growing, poking into your pelvis.

Every fiber of your being wants out of this enclosed space, a space that only a moment ago felt like a refuge but now feels like a prison. You don’t want this, and if Elvis finds out, there will be hell to pay. But Jack is too far gone to listen and too strong for you to move.

Jack picks you up easily and places you on the counter, his hands pushing the unyielding fabric of your dress up your thighs so he can spread them open and step between them. It feels cold—nothing like the warmth and passion you felt when Elvis did the same thing earlier.

“I told ‘em, ‘Not my treasure. She knows her place. Besides, who else would want her anyway?’” he laughs cruelly, grinding into you. The words cut, as he intended, and you become fully aware that you are in trouble. Your stomach rolls, nausea consuming you.

“Jack, seriously, stop it. I don’t want to do this right now. You’re too drunk,” you protest, pushing your palms into his chest to try and put space between you.

But he seems to take your protests as being coy, or perhaps he just doesn’t care, and chuckles darkly into your neck. “Didn’t stop you from sucking my dick the other night.” He lathes his tongue against your collarbone, causing an icy shiver down your spine that he interprets as positive, smiling on your skin. His hands roam to your back and unzip your dress.

You squirm, but it only serves to assist in his attempt to undress you, his hands roughly pulling down your sleeves and bra straps.

He stops abruptly, to your relief. “What are those?” Jack asks, suddenly on edge, his tone changing completely. He pulls back from you and for that you are grateful but confused.

“What’s what?” you reply as he stares at your chest, his eyes narrowing, the lust being replaced fully by anger.

Jack is on you in a flash, too fast for you to register what’s happening and then he’s yanking down the front of your dress, your bra, exposing your breast.

“Jesus Jack! What are you doing?!” you shriek, trying to pull away as he manhandles you, but you have nowhere to go.

“What the fuck are those?” He pulls you roughly off the counter and spins you around to the mirror, pointing to the series of purple welts on your breasts.

Oh, fuck.

“I…uh…I…,” you sputter incoherently. Your brain misfires, too panicked to think of anything clever or even anything at all. There’s no logical explanation for the dark bruises other than them being what they are. Your mind flashes back to the other night, how Elvis had claimed you, his pouty mouth suckling your skin roughly as he’d fucked you into oblivion on the couch.

You hadn’t even thought to cover them with makeup, since Jack hadn’t seen you naked in eons.

“You stupid fucking slut! Who are you screwing?!” Jack screams, ballistic, swinging you back around to face him.

You’ve never seen him this angry, his face and scar turning beet red, his eyes like daggers. But this reaction is rich coming from him, which triggers your own anger as much as your fear.

“Really, Jack? You barely come home and when you do you smell of cheap perfume, but me, I’m the slut?!” you yell back at him, your body shaking all over, as you pull up your bra and dress. You certainly hadn’t planned to do this here, now, but you’d known in your heart for days that this was coming.

The vein in his forehead pulses dangerously, and he looks like he truly wants to hurt you. He grabs your wrists painfully as you try and zip up your dress. You’ve never seen him look at you this way, even in his worst moments, and it send a shudder of fear through you. “You’re my goddamn wife! Nobody touches my wife!” he yells, his spit flying in your face, ignoring your reasoning completely, too far gone.

Then, he unlocks the door and yanks it open so hard it slams into the wall with a crash, and then pulls you into the hallway, dragging you behind him.

“Jack, stop. You’re hurting me!” you say, trying to wrench out of his iron grasp. “What’re you doing? This isn’t the place for this,” you hiss frantically, scared of what he might do or say next.

Jack manhandles you into the living area where people are conversing and laughing at someone’s jokes, and roughly pushes you into the middle of the room.

The laughter dies out quickly as all eyes turn towards you.

Your heart pounds in your chest and heat burns your cheeks. You are furious and scared and now embarrassed, the back of your dress undone in front of everyone. You watch as Sandy’s eyes widen, immediately gleaning what’s happening, and she starts to stand, but Jerry grabs her arm to stop her.

You rub at your raw wrists, but you don’t turn to look at Elvis, who is behind you. That would give it all away, and for now you at least have control over that.

“Who is it, huh? Who are you fucking? All of them?” Jack shouts at you in front of the group, pointing aimlessly at the men. There are confused and alarmed glances on most faces, though Sandy, Jerry, and Red all attempt to cover their knowledge with surprise. Some are better than others at concealing it, but Jack is too busy looking at you to see them.

“Hey, man, cool it,” Elvis says from behind you, trying to be nonchalant and deescalate the situation, but you can hear in his voice the effort it’s taking him to be calm.

Jack whirls you around roughly by the arm to face Elvis, as though he’s trying to shame you at court in front of the king. Elvis looks at you, unable to hide his concern and budding fury completely, and you shake your head the smallest amount, for only him to see, telling him to lay low and not give himself away. You may be fucked, but this can still be contained, at least until Jack has calmed down and not everyone is watching.

“This ain’t your problem, EP!” Jack yells. It’s as though the most obvious has escaped Jack’s rage-addled mind, since he’s not even considering Elvis when he’s the biggest threat of all.

But one doesn’t yell at Elvis. Not without repercussions.

“The hell it isn’t, not when you come in here drunk and hot like this, fixin’ to ruin everyone’s mood,” Elvis warns, standing slowly. He’s not yelling yet, but his eyes are starting to turn hard and dark. Elvis can be incredibly patient, but if his temper turns, it won’t be pretty. And he was already done with Jack before this wretched display. The tension in the room thickens to a heightened degree, leaving everyone on edge.

So hot with fear and embarrassment and anger, you think you might burst into flames right here. Your heart is thundering against your ribcage and you can barely breathe. Your legs itch to run, but you are surrounded by prying eyes, trapped between the two most important men in your life.

Jack is incensed, fuming, and not backing down. He’s gearing up for a fight, which is bad. His grip on your arm tightens and you can’t help but wince. You watch as Elvis takes a step towards you both and you shoot him a look to stay put.

“Jack, stop this,” you say as calmly as you can. “Let’s just take a breath and talk somewhere else and let the party go on.”

Jack’s chest heaves and he turns on you. “Shut the fuck up, you whore!” he snarls.

Then his fist brutally collides with your face.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion after that. The pain is instant, radiating through your cheek and your jaw, up into your eye socket. The metal of his rings snag at the corner of your mouth and scrape your face. Shock and disbelief course through you as the air rushes out of your lungs and hot tears spring to your eyes. The momentum of his strike sends you careening to the floor, and you manage to throw your hands out to catch yourself just before you hit the carpet.

A stunned silence falls over the group.

He hit me. He fucking hit me, you think in disbelief, through the pain, through the ringing in your ears.Jack had never, ever laid a hand on you before. You reach your hand up to your face, and it comes away bright red, bloody, your lip split. You can’t hold back the choked, shaking sob that escapes your lips.

Everything explodes at once.

The roar that comes from Elvis is like nothing you’ve heard before. The anger he’d shown you is but a fraction of what you see now as he crosses the room, a menacing bull after a matador. He strides so quickly and fiercely with those long legs of his that Jack barely has time to register what is happening before Elvis punches him square in the jaw, then rapidly again right in the nose. You can hear the sickening break of it which turns your stomach. Or maybe it’s your own pain doing that, you’re not sure at this point.

Elvis doesn’t even say anything, so blacked out with rage that he can’t even speak. You watch from the floor as Jack stumbles back and his eyes widen in shock, then confusion.

“EP? What the—?” Jack starts to say, holding his nose as it starts to bleed down his face, but before he can get it out, Elvis has him by the throat. Those long fingers wrap around and begin to squeeze as Elvis walks Jack back into the wall. Shocked, you watch from the floor as Jack’s face begins to turn red and he begins to sputter, clawing at Elvis’ hand and arm. True fear begins to play over Jack’s features.

Suddenly, the guys are all yelling and rushing around you. Sandy’s hands yank you up and back out of the fray, and you feel dizzy, swaying on your feet. You’re not sure how, but she manages to get you on the couch, zipping up your dress in a flash, and then examines your injuries.

“Are you okay? Y/n, are you okay?” she asks frantically, but with the commotion in the room and the fuzzy white noise in your head, she feels a million miles away. Your eyes are locked on the insane sight in front of you, freezing you with shock.

The guys are desperately trying to pull Elvis off Jack, but his hand is like a vise around Jack’s throat. He’s strangling him, truly choking him because you can see Jack’s face start to go purple and his eyes begin to roll back.

Three of the guys are on Elvis’ back now while Red chops at his arms, trying to break his hold on Jack’s throat unsuccessfully.

Oh my god, if Elvis kills him, I’ll lose them both and it’ll be all my fault, you realize.

You rise to your feet, ignoring Sandy’s protests, ignoring the dizziness and throbbing in your head, and you somehow, through pure will, push yourself through the throng of men to Elvis’ side.

“Elvis! Elvis, you have to stop this,” you say firmly, staring into his beautiful, terrifying face. His eyes are black and unyielding, almost unrecognizable. His jaw is so clenched in his murderous fury that you think he’ll crack his teeth. You’re not even sure if he can hear you because he doesn’t give any indication that he can, but you have to get him to stop.

“Baby, you can’t do this. You’re killing him. You can’t kill him. Satnin, I can’t lose you and if you do this, we’ll both be lost,” you murmur, pleading in his ear for only him to hear, hoping against hope it gets through to him.

You watch Elvis blink a few times, as if waking briefly from his trance, his shoulders relaxing just enough that when Red slams down on his arms again, they give way. Jerry pulls you backwards with a yelp, as Jack coughs, sucking in deep, rattling breaths as he slumps down the wall.

You do not go to him.

Elvis’ lapse in rage is short lived, for he sees Red and turns on him quickly with another roar, throwing brutal punches. You see on Red’s face that he knows exactly why Elvis is coming for him. A few punches land hard, and you hear more of the crack of flesh on flesh. You can’t help but smile a little inside at Red getting what’s coming to him, but horrified at yourself, you push that thought right out of your brain.

But there is a reason Red is Elvis’ bodyguard. He’s tough and scrappy and much more prepared for a fight than Jack was. You can see he doesn’t want to hurt Elvis but blocks and dodges some of his punches more readily. Four of the Mafia surround Elvis now, grabbing his arms, his waist, holding him back from Red, holding him down.

Elvis struggles against them and lets out one last terrifying primal cry before they get him subdued, pushing him to his knees. His chest heaves as they continue to hold his arms, his chin lowered, those lethal blue eyes peering out from under the black hair falling in his face. They still home in on Jack and Red, who are licking their wounds at the other end of the living room.

Adrenaline courses through you, your heart threatening to pound through your ribs, the blood rushing in your ears, as you watch four men have to hold down the man you love to keep him from killing the men that hurt you. And you aren’t entirely sure how to feel about that. A small part of you is frightened by this side of Elvis, how he is gone so deep into his rage that the man you know is barely there at all. And you can’t help but feel responsible for this turn in him.

But another part of you feels vindicated and relieved and almost proud of his defense of you. Part of you swells with so much love for him that you want to fall to your knees and kiss him as if your life depended on it.

“You sonofabitch. You fucking wife-stealing asshole,” Jack rasps out bitterly at Elvis, cowering on the floor with Red and a couple of the other men surrounding him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” some of the guys cry, having to hold Elvis back from going ballistic again. His glare at Jack is so fierce, you think the look alone might kill him from across the room.

But you don’t stop to find out because you wrench out of Jerry’s grasp and somehow make it over to Jack before your brain catches up with your body. You don’t even have time to think twice before your hand pulls back and slaps open-handed across Jack’s cheek, the smack reverberating in your ears and stinging through your hand and up your arm.

But you don’t care.

Silence falls over the room once more. Jack stares up at you wide-eyed, with shocked indignation.

“Shut the fuck up, Jack,” you seethe, now fully infuriated that the man you once loved had hurt you so badly, in so many ways. “You lost me a long time ago, and Elvis had nothing to do with it, you cheating, lying, drunken bastard!” You lean over into his face, your voice low and biting, “And don’t you ever, ever, lay your hands on me again, or next time I won’t stop him from tearing you apart.”

You watch the mixture of surprise and contempt and fear play over Jack’s features for a moment before stepping back. You look back at Elvis and see his lip curl into a sly grin.

And then it all hits you at once. All your mistakes. Everyone staring at you in shock. Your dirty laundry aired out for all to see. The blood and pain bruising on your face, your head pounding, your vision hazy. The mortifying violence that has occurred in your name. Your lover almost murdering your husband.

Oh, god.

Suddenly, vertigo hits you hard and you are so dizzy that the room swims and sways in front of you. The bile rises so quickly that you don’t even have time to process what is happening before you are hurling your dinner onto the shag carpet.

Something is quite wrong, you realize. All your anger and doubts and regrets and love drain from you with a tingling coolness, and everything and everyone feels very far away, their cries muffled by the pain in your head. Then you fall into a dark oblivion, leaving the pain and consequences of your actions far, far behind, and you wonder fleetingly if it was all worth it.

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

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asshlyyyy · 11 months

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Red String

Before I see the comments, there will be no part two. I need to crank out these fics if I want to finish my ongoing stories. This idea came to me when I learned about the red string legend. I tweaked it ever so slightly, but the main concept still stands. This one is a weird one, and I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

Pairing: Elvis (Or Austin!Elvis) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Teasing, Some Angst, Spelling and Grammatical Errors. Some information regarding the legend may be false. Let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.1k

You looked down at your ankle and let out a sigh. No matter how hard you worked to try and shorten the distance, it never seemed to lead you to anything… or anyone. You were getting on in years and quite frankly, you were about to give up and cut your string. Which honestly, you weren’t sure if you could even do that.

The story of the red string was one that everyone grew up with. It was a way to explain why they had a red string attached to their ankle. One end was attached to yours, and the other end was attached to your soulmate’s ankle. Once your soulmate was found, the string would turn to gold and would turn into an anklet. It was to indicate you had found your soulmate.

Most people found their soulmate early on. Middle school early on, hell some even met them while they were still babies! Yet, here you were in your thirties, and still… no golden anklet. You’ve been asked so many times why you wouldn’t follow it to the other end. The answer was simple, by the time you reached your soulmate the string would rip. Greed is what breaks the soulmate bond.

You were supposed to find your soulmate off of some fate. You would bump into each other and you would mold. You watched your friends and family mold with their soulmates and you were tired. While no one has ever dared to cut their string. It is said that if you cut your string you give up all hope and chance. When you cut your string you give up the chance of ever having a soulmate.

It wasn’t like you wanted to give up. Heck no! You wanted to get married and have kids. You couldn’t do that without finding your soulmate. It was very rare that you saw two people together with red strings still. They were the rule breakers. The ones who didn’t care much for finding their soulmate. You wish you could have been like that.

“I need two cheeseburgers and fries for table five!” You told the cook and placed the menus in their dedicated spot.

“Coming up!” The cook responded and got to work. You leaned down over the counter and placed your chin in the palm of your hand. You looked around at the couples in the diner. Each and every one of them had their gold anklets. It wasn’t fair. How come they found their soulmate and you were still standing around like a lost puppy.

“How’s the soulmate hunting coming?” Sherrie asked as she came riding on by. You turned your head over to her.

“Well, I’m still tripping over my own red death so I would say… shitty.” You responded as you watched her skate around. She frowned and made her way over to you.

“Hey, one day he’ll show up and… it will be so magical… so romantic… And hopefully not embarrassing like mine was when I met Chris.” She let out a pout. You remembered the day. It was like any other day in the diner. Well, besides the fact she bumped into someone. Everyone here was practically skilled at skating so bumping into someone was weird.

“But isn’t meeting them supposed to be out of the blue? That’s why you can’t just follow your string.” You explained to her. In every single story you’ve heard or read about, soulmates found each other out of the blue. It was when they least expected it.

“Do you want to meet your soulmate while covered in burning hot coffee?” She raised her eyebrow at you. A soft laugh left your mouth and you shook your head. She had you there.

“Table five, order up!” The ding broke you out of your conversation. You skated over to pick up the order and brought it over to the couple. You asked if there was anything else you could bring them. When you heard that no response, you made your way back over to Sherrie.

“He helped you clean up though, and apologized a bunch. Your eyes met and…” you smiled softly, “and it was like you two knew. That was your magical moment.”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.” She smiled as she remembered that meeting. You rolled your eyes playfully at her. After you two started to do some other tasks you heard a bunch of high-pitched screams. You turned your head towards the sound and found a multitude of girls crowded outside.

“What’s up with that?” You asked Sherrie. She raised her eyebrow in confusion as she looked outside.

“I have no idea,” she shrugged. You two decided to ignore the screams and got back to work. You cleaned up some of the tables and helped the customers. Pretty much what you did every day.

You looked over at the clock and did a mental celebration. It was your break, or at least it was about to be. Not only did you finally get to eat, but you only had half a day left. You announced to the other girls that you were going on your break and grabbed your lunch bag and headed out behind the building.

It was very rare that you ate food from the diner. The food there is amazing, but you just liked being able to make your own food. The cooks already had to make so much food, they shouldn’t have to cook for you too.

As you walked outside you shielded your eyes from the blasting sun. When your eyes adjusted to the new light you noticed a tall man standing over you. You let out a scream but it was soon concealed by his mouth.

“Please don’ yell,” The guy said. Okay, who the hell did this person think they were? Not only to be standing out behind your business of work but for putting his hands on you. You took the opportunity while he was distracted and bit down on his hand. He yelped in pain and pulled his hand away. “The hell was that for?!”

“You put your hands on me!” You looked up at the guy. “I should be the one saying that.” You huffed and walked away from the creepy man.

“That still don’ give ya the right to bite me.” He followed after you. You stopped in your step and turned to face him.

“Do you want me to call the cops on you?” You said it in more of a statement rather than a question. When you first stepped out you didn’t get a good look at him. But now looking at him, you saw who he was and you froze. Your mouth gaped open and you heard him laugh at your reaction.

You quickly closed up your mouth and marched away. That self-entitled prick! Does he really think that he deserves everything and an apology just because he’s Elvis!? Hell no he doesn’t. You just wanted to enjoy your lunch in peace, and yet you had to deal with this famous rockstar, who was too busy in his actor era.

Don’t get everything twisted up. You loved Elvis Presley, you thought he was a great singer and some of his movies were great. However, you were on your break. It was your personal time, and you didn’t want to have to interact with anyone or anything.

“Hang on now,” his southern accent wisped its way through your ears. You couldn’t help but feel your knees almost tremble. Those southern accents always got to you.

“What could the king possibly want with a little low-life servant like myself.” You looked at him annoyed. Any other time, you would be crying at seeing his beauty. Right now though, he was taking out the minutes of your half-hour break. Quite frankly, you didn’t appreciate one bit of it.

“‘M sure you’ve seen those girls out front, I-I just wanted someplace to eat… Figured I would try the back door.” He tried to explain himself. Whoever goes and tries the back door first off? Especially when there are big letters on the door that say Keep out.

“You know that’s for employees only right?” You pointed out to him. You didn’t know if he was missing his glasses or just blind. The back door held big letters on it saying employees only, keep out, amongst other sayings.

“Yes, I can read. But I fi-”

“You figured just because I’m Elvis Presley I can get what I want.” You mocked him. He looked at you annoyed. Out of all the workers he could have possibly bumped into, he got you. The girl who possibly wouldn’t care if he was some high-top celebrity or even the president.

“Are you-”

“No, I am not, because you are wasting my lunch.” You peered down at your watch, “You already waste ten minutes of my thirty. So, I am going to walk away before you take away the other twenty.” You turned and walked over to the picnic table. You sat down and opened your lunch box and started to eat.

There was this small outdoor eating area that the surrounding businesses use. It was a small beautiful area. Around summertime and the weekends, you guys would get around and have a cookout. The community was great, and to sit outside and eat while enjoying the fresh air… It really helped you calm down.

“So-” you let out a loud groan and looked down over Elvis. Why was he following you? Why did he feel the need to talk to you while you were on your break? You didn’t want to converse while on your break. You wanted to sit, eat your food, and calculate when you had to get back to work.

“What do you want?” You asked him as you munched down on your sandwich.

“You treat me differently.” He stated the obvious. You looked at him with the Are you kidding me look. “I… look, ‘m used to people always screamin’ and runnin’ towards me. You… you yell at me. You don’ praise me.”

“Oh yeah, no problem. I would do that to anyone who bothers me on break so… You’re nothing special.” You explained with a shrug of your shoulders. It was true, you were gently a nice person. When it came to your personal time though… that’s when you started to get grouchy.

“Well, your string would say otherwise.” You looked at him confused before you looked down at your ankle. The once red string was no longer there. When you left for break it was there and no- that only had to mean one thing.

“You got to be kidding me.” You spoke under your breath. You slowly turned your head to look at Elvis who had… a pleased look on his face. It was like that… you teased me and now I’m getting my revenge.

“Oh come on, I can’ be that bad.” He chuckled lightly.

“You have taken away so much of my break time… I disagree.” You said in response.

“Well, now ya don’ got to work anymore. I can provide.” Because that is something every girl wants to hear. Quit your job, stay home, cook and clean… look after the kids.

“Who says I even want to be with you.” You tilted your head to the side lightly.

“Are you one to go against your soulmate's choosing?” Elvis questioned. He had you there. You weren’t one to go against the person who marked you and Elvis as soulmates. There had to be a reason for it, and you just couldn’t see that right now.

“Absolutely. Because all I want right now is to eat my goddamn sandwich-”

“Y/n! Your break’s over!” The cook called out to you. You closed your eyes and breathed in a long thick breath. You got three bites out of your sandwich. Three goddamn bites! You dropped your sandwich down onto its wrap and rubbed your eyes.

“I have to get back to work.” You said softly and gathered your things before getting up. Looks like another day where you’ll starve a work. The rest of your shift should be very exciting.

“Before ya go, could I get ya number?” He questioned as he turned to face you. As you looked at him you let out a sigh. He was your soulmate and you had to accept that. Maybe he couldn’t be so bad. Plus… you would be able to travel the world.

“Visit me at closing and I’ll consider.” You told him and walked off. Unbeknownst to you, Elvis wore a smile on his face. This was certainly not how he planned his day, but he was glad he met his soulmate. He was glad, he met you.

Mutual Taglist: @darlinboypresley @emmymaehereeeeee @venus-haze @austinstyles

#asshlyyyy writes #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis fic #austin elvis x you #austin elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #austin!elvis #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis angst #austin!elvis x reader #elvis fluff

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angelinajoulie · 1 year

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Here’s another small extract from my upcoming dom!Austin x shy!girlfriend!reader one shot.

➡️ read the entire work here!

18+ content below the cut MDNI.

"You're such a good little girl for me, you know this?" his voice gets deeper enough to make you feel soaked as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

"So submissive" he praises you in a whisper, his calloused digits moving to caress your cheek, allowing you to surrender to his touch by resting your head on his thigh.

“So responsive" the intense feeling of the cold gold of his rings hits your warm skin and your spine tingles.

His voice is so soft, yet so firm while he praises you that a weak moan leaves your parted lips, Austin taking advantage of it to shove two of his long fingers in your mouth.

You know what to do so you embrace them with no hesitation and start sucking, wrapping your lips and tongue around his knuckles as the metallic taste grows strong in your mouth.

"So greedy..."

You are a vision to him, you look so tempting that his hand falls on his crotch to palm himself, his growing erection begging to be freed from his slacks and swallowed up by your throat.

As I already said, English is not my first language so I’m currently translating this work (from ITA to ENG) and I can tell you that the warnings will include size kink, praise kink and some other very VERY filthy things. It will be a 5k words piece, should I post it in two parts???✨

I read all your previous requests for the tag list and I wanna thank you sooooo much for em😭😭😭 if you want to be added comment down here, I’ll add you as soon as the one shot will be posted💘

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yourforeverokay · 1 year

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What happens in Vegas doesn't stay in Vegas (Elvis Presley x Reader) pt.3

word count: 1,1k

warnings: light cursing, mentions of abuse

summary: What happens when Elvis hears about the abuse that Y/N went through after arriving back to her own room?

a/n: Hey my loves! It has been a while once again, especially with this series. I promise to be more active from now on and focus on writing more in here! I've been so focused on writing my poetry that I haven't been on this app for a while but I'm so happy with all the love you guys have shown me and my writing! I love you all <3 Hope you enjoy this part, and more is coming. Sorry for the short length of this. Thank you <3

"Please, open the door sweetheart." Elvis was pleading you behind the door. You got off the floor, taking slow steps towards the door. Not because you were scared or worried of the consequences, but because you felt weak. You opened the door, slowly revealing yourself. After Elvis saw the state that you were in, his first instinct was to embrace you. He felt the need to hug you and protect you from any harm that was aimed at your way. This meant that he took a step towards you, but it was too quick for your liking, which made you jump. You knew Elvis wasn't going to hurt you like John did, not after last night you spent getting to know each other. Elvis was different. He...cared.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart." He took a step back. "I didn't mean to be that fast with you. I know the image that I carry but I promise that-" His speech was interrupted by you jumping in his arms. You held him tight and let your tears fall once again. Elvis was startled but quickly hugged you back, even tighter. "Oh Elvis, why would he do something like this to me?" You cried to him, holding him and grabbing the back of his shirt with your hands. "Who? Your husband? What did he do?" Elvis' voice sounded concerned. He took a hold of your face but his touch was gentle, unlike your husband's. He stroked your cheek and looked deep in your eyes. "He- he h-hit me." You tried to hold back your tears so that you wouldn't stutter, but it didn't work. Your emotions got the best of you. Elvis' eyes went dark. He looked angry, sad, disappointed and worried. "Sweetheart, I'm going to have to ask you to wait for me? Will you do that for me?" His eyes scanning yours. You nodded and let go of the man in front of you. The beautiful man, who seemed to understand you better than the rest. Elvis kissed your temple and left the hallway with quick but powerful steps. "Wait for me Y/N!" He quickly shouted before disappearing behind the staircase.

It didn't even take 10 minutes, before none other than Jerry Schilling was behind your door knocking frantically. "Hello again Y/N, Elvis sent me here. I need you to pack your bags and follow me, is that okay?" Jerry said to you after you opened the door for him. "Where is he?" You asked confused, but nonetheless, started packing your bags. Afraid of the fact that your husband might return any minute. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that. Elvis has everything under control. I will just take you to another, better, room." He sounded very professional saying that. His posture was straight and his sunglasses hid his eyes from you.

"Right this way." Jerry guided you to an elevator which was huge compared to the regular elevators in the hotel. Jerry lead you to a room number 333 and left you to unpack your bags. The room was a suite filled with beautiful furniture and a view that you had never experienced before. You took everything in as you looked out of the window. While you were taking everything in, you also remembered your state. Clothes from last night, smudged makeup and messy hair. You quickly went to the bathroom to freshen yourself up. You took a hot shower, and took off the makeup that was left on your face.

You stepped out of the shower and before you were about to blow-dry your hair, you heard people coming in your room. You put your ear close to the door and listened what the people had to say. "Did you get rid of him like Mr. Presley ordered?" You heard Jerry say. An unknown voice replied: "He has been taken cared of. This is the letter for the girl." "Thank you, I'll meet you downstairs after Elvis arrives, Red." A door opened and closed.

You didn't know how to feel nor what to think. You didn't even have a clue of what had happened. You blow-dried your hair and stepped out of the bathroom. "Y/N!" Jerry had been sitting on a couch, smoking a cigarette. He stood up fast as you walked over to him. "I don't know what's going on." You said to Jerry, unsure of your situation. "Don't worry miss, Mr. Presley will explain everything. He should be here soon."

You sat down on the couch, took the cigarette off the tray and looked at Jerry. He nodded and you placed it in your mouth. Smooth smoke covering your lungs. You hadn't smoked in 3 years and you had decided to quit after getting married. John himself had always smoked in the house but he forbidded you from doing it. He always said it wasn't "lady-like".

You let your head hang low as you wondered: 'What on earth has happened in these past 24-hours?'

The door opened and you quickly hid the cigarette, it was an old habit. Elvis stepped inside the room and he was wearing a dark suit with sunglasses. Once he noticed you on the couch, he quickly took off his glasses and his gaze softened. "Y/N, are you okay?" He got on one knee infront of the couch to get to your level. You took a hold of his hand, which had expensive looking rings on it. "I am, but what happened? I heard some men talking that you have done something?" You asked concerned. Elvis gave Jerry a side-eye and looked down for a moment. "Honey, you don't have to be scared of that abusive son of a bitch anymore. I'll protect you. The mafia and I talked to him about his...behavior..and he now deeply regrets it." He rubbed your hand with his thumb. A sense of relief came over you. For a while John has been abusing you and using you for whatever reason. John was the boy from the neighborhood and you parents loved him...or at least the side that he showed to them. Your parents got you and John together, so that your future would be secured. Little did they know, that John could be so evil, mean and violent.

"They also said something about a letter?" You asked with a small voice. Elvis didn't say anything, he just handed the envelope to you and looked at you with an expression that you couldn't analyze. "There you go honey."

You opened the letter with mixed feelings. What could the letter contain? You opened it slowly, while Jerry left the room quietly, letting the two of you have some peace and privacy.

"Oh my god..." Your hand flew over your mouth.

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @moonchild-daniella @dramaticpandabear @xbunny-k @elvispresleyblog @csmt-m @vintagelizziesblog

#elvis presley #elvis film #austin butler elvis #elvis imagine #elvisaaronpresley #elvis x reader #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis baz luhrmann #austin elvis x reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagines #austin butler #austin!elvis fic #elvis aaron presley #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis imagine #elvis x you #elvis x y/n

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sissylittlefeather · 9 months

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Hi friends! I wrote another fic. I'm just churning these out right now because I'm obsessed 😂

You really have to suspend reality for this one. Like, just let your imagination have at it and try not to think about how it would actually work out. Also, it's based on a scene from the movie, so it's probably more Austin!Elvis, but you could pretend it really happened with EP if you wanted to. The world is your oyster. Dream on.

This is a continuation of Baby What's Your Name?, but you don't necessarily have to read that one first. Basically, all my fics exist in the same timeline with the same Elvis & reader characters.

Warnings: F/m p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, public sex, cops?, smut, cussing, MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: this takes place after the riot at the Russwood Park show in the Elvis (2022) movie. Austin!Elvis x reader (y/n). You've come to comfort Elvis after they shove him in the cop car.

Always, Honey

You sit and watch in horror as the police officers drag Elvis from the stage. He's finally done it. He's gone too far and the people in charge stepped in. For a minute or two, you sit there in shock at what's happening with your hand covering your open mouth.

You need to get to him, but you know it won't be easy. You're not there in any official capacity. His parents don't know about you. The Colonel has suspicions that Elvis has been seeing someone, but he doesn't know who you are. No one knows that you've been with Elvis every time you could since that first night together when you threw your panties on the stage. What started with lust has turned into a relationship and you realize right now in this moment that you love him. Your worry for him makes that clear. You have to find a way to get to him.

You shake off the shock of the moment and stand up. You were sitting toward the back of the concert, so you can see the squad car at the back of the ballpark. That's where they will be headed. You take off in that direction, away from all the other fans who are running toward him. You make it to the car. As you stand there trying to decide what to do next, you see the crowd coming through the gates, and the officers dragging Elvis are at the center. He's yelling to his parents to get in the car they're being taken to, trying to keep himself clear of policemen and fans alike. You pretend to be just another fan as they shove him in the backseat and close the door. You're standing on the other side of the car when actual fans press in around you, screaming and grabbing at the car. You manage to get your face down to the window and knock on it, just praying that he'll look over in your direction. You pull on the door, but it's locked. You knock again on the window and yell as loud as you can, "E!"

He hears your voice amidst the chaos and turns, seeing you in the window. There's no one in the front seat yet, so he's able to unlock the door and open it just enough for you to slip into the backseat with him. He pulls you close to him and grabs your face with both hands.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, E, I'm fine. Are you okay?" He relaxes a little, knowing that you aren't hurt.

"Man, that was... I'm pissed, but yeah, I'm not hurt or anything." He pulls you in for a kiss. He's dripping in sweat, but you don't care. This isn't the first time he's kissed you after a show. Usually you're squeezed somewhere backstage together for a quick moment before he's whisked away to wherever he's supposed to be post-performance.

Just then, though, the front doors of the car open and the cops slide into their positions on the front seat. The one in the passenger seat turns to look back at Elvis, glaring with a hatred you've never seen before. Elvis glares back with the same intensity. It takes a minute for the cop to even realize you're back there.

"What the hell is she doing in here? Get her out! You can't have a damn fan girl in the backseat when you're getting arrested!"

"IF SHE GETS OUT, I GET OUT." Elvis yells. You can see his hands shaking with rage. "SHE IS NOT A FAN. SHE IS MY GIRL." Your head whips around and your eyes lock on him. That's the first time he's acknowledged what you might be to each other.

The cop opens his mouth to yell back, but the other officer cuts in.

"-- you can't open the door right now. There's too many people out there and we need to go. She's going to have to stay where she is." He drives off slowly, careful to not run over any of the fans who are mobbing the car.

"Well... just... don't touch her." The passenger seat cop growls at Elvis, who defiantly throws his arm around you.

"I'll do what I damn well please. What are you gonna do? Arrest me?"

The cop's face goes beet red and he turns around in his seat to face front. Elvis plants a kiss on the side of your head and apologizes quietly.

"I'm sorry about all this, honey." He's got one hand around your shoulder and the other on your thigh. You look up into his eyes.

"Your girl, huh?" You try to keep your smile from giving away the elation you feel in your heart. Yep. You absolutely are in love with him. He gives you a soft smile.

"Yeah, baby, that alright with you?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want."

"If it means you're all mine, then it's what I want, kid." Your heart flip flops in your chest.

"And are you all mine?" You shouldn't have asked that. You know he belongs to his fans. You prepare yourself for him to say no without saying no.

"Always, honey." He leans in to kiss you again, this time with his lips parted. You let your tongue explore his as you turn toward him and move your legs across his lap. The hand that was on your thigh moves back to your hip as he pulls you in to him as close as you can get without straight up straddling him. He leans you back in the seat until he's on top of you.

"E. There are COPS in the front seat." You whisper with your teeth gritted. You feel the desire starting to build up between your legs, but you know this cannot happen here.

"I know, honey, I just want to make my girl feel good. Can I do that?" Your resolve melts. Let the cops watch, for all you care in this moment.

He sits up and slides his hands up under your dress, pulling your panties down your legs and over your shoes. You feel his hand crawl back up your thigh to your center. He uses his thumb to make circles on the spot that drives you so crazy. Then, he dips his fingers into you, where you're already wet and waiting for him. He uses some of your wetness to lubricate what his thumb is doing. It gets harder and harder to stay quiet as he works, so you bite your bottom lip and close your eyes.

"Damn, baby. You look so good right now." He whispers, not stopping what his hand is doing. Your heart is beating so fast and your breathing is heavy. You know your climax is coming and you're just praying that you'll stay quiet and the cops won't turn around until after you finish. He moves his thumb faster and faster, his fingers rubbing against your inside spot. You let out a small whine as the waves of ecstasy ripple through you. You look at Elvis and he smiles as he feels the throbbing and wetness on his fingers.

Almost on cue, the cop in the passenger side turns back to the backseat as you arrive at your destination. You shoot up in your seat and Elvis clears his throat, pulling his hand from under your skirt. You can't tell if the cop is clueless, or if he's just ignoring what happened so he doesn't have to talk about it. The driver pulls around to the back of the police station to avoid any press that might be gathered at the front.

"We have to go inside and get things arranged to bring you inside quietly. Arresting a movie star is harder than you think. Young lady, come with us." You start to move toward the door, but Elvis grabs your hand.

"I told you, officer, if she gets out, I get out. She's staying with me." He says it with so much authority that even the cop relents. He closes the door and both officers walk up to the back of the building. The second they're out of view, you turn back to Elvis and undo his pants, freeing his erection.

"Honey, what..?" He looks at you puzzled until he figures out what you're doing. He whips his head from side to side looking out both windows for paparazzi or cops or anyone at all while you hike up your skirt and straddle him. As you slide down onto him, your eyes meet and you moan in unison. You know you probably only have a few minutes, so you work fast, bouncing on him vigorously.

"Oh shit, baby." Elvis groans into your ear as his pleasure is released. Between the build up, watching you orgasm, and the thrill of maybe getting caught, he didn't last long at all. You push his wet hair back off of his sweaty forehead and kiss him. He's about to apologize for coming so quickly when you notice the cops coming back out. You jump off of him and sit back in your seat while he puts himself away and wipes off as much evidence as possible.

"I hope it's kinda dark in there." He laughs and holds your hand as the cops open his door. He turns back to you and gives you one last kiss.

"I'll see you soon, baby." They take him out of the car and cuff him as the other officer helps you out of the car. When you get inside, they let you use the phone to call Margie to come get you. It's not until you're in her car that you realize you've left your panties in the cop car. You giggle. Another pair of panties lost because of Elvis Presley...

#elvis movie #elvis 2022 #austin butler elvis #austin elvis imagine #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin butler #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis smut #elvis x reader

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ranaissingle · 1 year

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Well how about an AustinElvis Prompt?

Reader decides to surprise Elvis for his birthday by bringer herself and the children to visit him, though it doesn’t go to plan. Reader and the children walk into the suite to see Elvis in the company of several ladies.

Sex, Drugs, etc

Masterlist

Fandom: Austin!Elvis and Elvis Rating: M (mentions of drug and alcohol abuse) Pairings: Austin!Elvis x Reader or Elvis x Reader Word Count: 1055

Warnings: Cheating, adultery, cursing, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (Let me know if I missed any) Authors Note: Thank you for the request! I did write this as a late 60's early 70s Elvis so he will be at the international hotel. I hope you enjoy it!

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *

Elvis had been away from home for his last two birthdays and Y/N would be damned if she allowed him to spend his next one away from his family. So despite the tight-lipped warnings from the colonel and Jerry Springer, Y/N had packed up herself and the kids to go visit Elvis while he was in Vegas. The children missed their father and Y/N missed her husband.

She rounded up the children into the private jet sent to pick them up and sat down to finish wrapping the last of his birthday presents before eventually reclining her seat to take a nap.

When she awoke Jerry was shaking her shoulder.

"Are you sure about this? It's not too late to turn around?" His brows furrowed as he looked at her practically begging her to do so. Jerry knew what Elvis would be doing right around this time, and he would be anything but alone.

"Of course, I want to do this Jerry. Jesse and Caroline have been dying to see their father and I miss my husband. Why would I ever want to chicken out now." The frown on her face deepened.

"Besides how better to spend a Birthday than with your family?" a smile stretched across her face as Y/N began thinking of Elvis's possible reactions. Putting an end to the conversation, she got up and woke the kids to get them loaded into the car and begin their journey to the International Hotel. Elvis was going to love this.

═════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ═══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ═══

When they arrived at the international hotel, Y/N filed the children out of the car and made her way to the lobby to check into Elvis's suit.

"Hello Miss. how can I help you today!" The hostess smiled brightly as she called over a boy to take care of the baggage.

"Hello! I would just like to check into a room my Husband is already here. His name is Elvis Presly and my name is Y/N Presly.

"Oh of course Miss, if I could just see your ID I can give you the key right away."

After giving her ID and receiving the key Y/N took the kids to the elevator and went up the floors all the way to the presidential suite where Elvis was staying.

"Okay kids, wait outside for just a second while I make sure that Daddy is inside, alright?"

"Okay, Mamma!" Jesse's response came accompanied by a thumbs up and a smile so bright it almost hurt Y/N's heart.

She opened the door softly and closed it behind her. She heard voices coming from the sofa area. She heard female voices? That couldn't be right. Why would Elvis have girls in his room?

Sometimes people make foolish mistakes. Like putting sugar on steak instead of salt or turning off the light when you meant to turn on the fan. But most people never have to wonder if their husbands are cheating on them. Y/N never thought that an innocent little surprise could turn into the single worst day of her life.

Elvis was sitting on the couch with three different girls positioned all around him. One on the floor with her head in his lap, another with her head in his neck, and the last was giving him open-mouthed kisses while she raked her fingers through his hair.

"Elv- Elvis what are you doing?" Y/Ns voice cracked as she felt her throat close and the tears threaten to spill from her eyes. Elvis pushed the girls off of him before whirling around to see his wife standing in the doorway with a hand on her heart and eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He stumbled off the sofa and up the step, " Y/N baby wh- what are ya doin' here honey?" There was no talking his way out of this one. Elvis had dug himself into a hole with nothing but a shovel made of his own idiocy.

"Don't 'baby' me Elvis Presly I have eyes! How could you do this to me? You ruined our family over what? A quick fuck? I- is that all children and I are worth to you? " Y/N could barely get the sentence out as she saw the girls on the sofa scramble to put on their clothes. That just added insult to injury. He had been with not one, not two, but three girls.

"Y/N darlin' you know it ain't like that. I get lonely on the road, and I was missin' ya-" The sharp tone of Y/N's voice cut him off.

"If you are missing me then come back and visit. You keep yourself cooped up in this room with people you don't know and doing drugs that you don't even know the name of. I gave you everything I had Elvis. Everything I could possibly give to you I did, so don't you sit there and try to make this about me not being around when you have a goddamn private jet to take you anywhere where you damn well please!"

Elvis was shocked. She had never once cursed or raised her voice, be it at him or the kids.

"Look I-I'm sorry mamma we can work through this can't we? Ya aren't gonna leave me over somethin' as silly as this are ya?" He chuckled lightly as if the entire situation was a massive joke that only he was in on.

"Your kids are young Elvis and you are never around to parent them so no, I will not be divorcing you right this second. But trust that as soon as they are in college or moved out of the house, I will be gone. Feel free to sleep with whoever you would like because you have singlehandedly managed to lose the only person who truly cared about your well-being and safety." Y/N voice grew sterner as she spoke, almost as if she were scolding a child. Her eyes were cold and distant and nothing like those of his loving wife.

"Make sure to call those girls back in, you wouldn't want to be lonely on your birthday." She turned on her feet and walked briskly to the large oak doors of the suite.

"Baby, wait for a mi-". The slam of the doors punctuated his sentence.

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *

Done! Let me know if you like it!! Don't forget to like and follow until next time girlies!

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thegettingbyp2 · 11 months

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Front and Centre (Austin!Elvis)

You and your best friend were standing right at the front of the stage, your friend bouncing up and down excitedly. You’d spent the afternoon at the fair, going on the rides and taking part in the various activities that were on offer, and now you were waiting for the one and only Elvis Presley to come onto stage. Your friend was a huge fan of Elvis, however you didn’t really have an opinion of him. Sure, you’d heard some of his music on the radio and thought that he had a good voice, but you’d never actually seen him, only heard from your friend about how hot he was and how he danced so differently from any other music act you’d seen or heard.

‘(Y/N), you’re going to love him,’ your best friend, Tana, gushed. ‘He’s incredible!’

‘I never said I wasn’t going to,’ you replied, laughing at your friends enthusiasm.

The moment Elvis came onto the stage, you couldn’t help but be struck by how beautiful he was, the way a strand of his hair sat perfectly on his forehead had you wanting to wrap your finger around it and tuck it neatly back into place. However, the moment he started to move had all thoughts leaving your head. The way there didn’t seem to be a single part of his body that was able to stay still whilst he sang had put you in a trance.

You could hear the screams from the rest of the girls in the audience but they quickly faded away to almost nothing when Elvis’ eyes caught yours. It was as if time stood still and you watched as a smirk began to grow on his lips as he continued to sing, not breaking his eyes away from you. He made his way over to the edge of the stage, sinking to his knees, still singing as he reached out to take your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before finally breaking your gaze and moving away continuing with the performance.

By the time the performance was over, it had seemed to have gone by in a blur, your hand still tingling from the feeling of his lips on your skin earlier in the night. ‘Oh my God! Did you see the way he was looking at you?’ Tana exclaimed as the two of you made your way out of the fair. ‘And he kissed your hand, you’re so lucky!’

‘He was looking at everyone, it’s kind of a part of his job,’ you laughed, brushing the experience off. As you walked through the exit, you startled at the feeling of a hand wrapping around your wrist. Turning around sharply, you were shocked when you looked into the eyes of the same man who had kissed your hand earlier.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he spoke with his Southern accent, ‘I just saw you at the show and I thought you were beautiful and I really wanted to speak to you.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ you said, shaking your head slightly, trying to work out if this was really happening, ‘but we’ve got to go and - ’

‘Well, I’ve got to go and actually try to find the car, I can just drive up here so you have some time,’ Tana quickly cut in, her eyes not straying from Elvis.

‘I don’t mind driving you home, if that would be alright with you obviously,’ Elvis said, turning back to you. You looked over at Tana and saw her nodding her head quickly.

‘Sure, that would be nice,’ you replied, smiling up at Elvis before saying a goodbye to Tana, promising to tell her everything once you get home.

‘Shall we?’ Elvis asked, offering his arm to you as you both turned back into the fair as you slid your arm through his. ‘I’m Elvis.’

You couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped your chest. ‘I know,’ you said, your smile evident in your voice as Elvis shot you a shy smile, ‘I’m (Y/N).’

‘Well, (Y/N),’ he began, and you felt a shiver roll down your spine at the way your name slipped easily off of his tongue. ‘How about a go on the ferris wheel?’ You hadn’t realised that Elvis had pulled you both to a stop in front of an empty carriage, just waiting for the two of you to get on. Instead of replying, you grinned up at him and moved to sit in the carriage, loving the way he let out a small laugh before rushing to join you before you were both hoisted into the air.

Once your carriage had stopped at the top of the wheel, you let your eyes close softly as you felt the gentle breeze brush through your hair, however, the breeze could do nothing to cool your cheeks once you looked over at him and saw the way he was looking at you; he was looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

‘I really liked your performance tonight,’ you said shyly, averting your gaze.

‘Thanks,’ he said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. ‘Couldn’t help being a bit off my game tonight though, I was a bit distracted,’ he continued, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, causing a blush to quickly rush to your cheeks.

‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t think anyone noticed,’ you replied softly, looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes as a shiver suddenly ran through your body. Instantly, Elvis sprung into action, shrugging his jacket off.

‘You must be freezing up here,’ he murmured, draping his jacket over your shoulders, his arms lingering around you and you felt your head grow fuzzy as you were enveloped in the warmth from his jacket and his scent lingered around you. Elvis’ finger came to rest under your chin as he gently tilted your head up to look at him. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he spoke lowly as he began to lower his face to yours.

Just before his lips brushed against yours, the carriage you were in jolted as you came to a stop back down on the ground. You quickly pulled away, much to Elvis’ amusement, so you wouldn’t be caught by the ride operator, and hopped out of the carriage, Elvis following close behind until he gently pulled you to a stop, pressing you lightly against a wooden beam that was holding some of the bunting up, away from the rest of the crowd.

‘Where are you off to in a rush, darlin’?’ Elvis chuckled as he stepped even closer to you.

‘I didn’t think you’d want to be seen, where everyone knows who you are, with me,’ you began to ramble, only stopping when Elvis’ fingers gripped the sides of his jacket that was still draped over your shoulders, pulling you into him.

‘Darlin’, what I wanted,’ he started once you had looked back up at him, ‘was to kiss a beautiful girl. Imagine how I felt when he all of a sudden ran away from me,’ he made you laugh when he threw an overly exaggerated pout your way.

‘Wow, that girl really must not have realise who it was that wanted to kiss her, hey,’ you smiled coyly, bringing your hand up to lightly trace his jaw.

‘Are you going to let me kiss you now, darlin’?’ he asked, his accent sounding thicker as his eyes were trained on your lips.

‘Why don’t you find out,’ you said softly. Elvis tugged you impossibly closer by his grip on the jacket and finally pressed his lips to yours. You both sighed into the kiss as you felt yourselves get lost in each other, not caring if anyone walked past and saw you. You were enveloped by Elvis and, in that moment, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You only broke the kiss when the both of you ran out of air and Elvis pressed his forehead to yours, practically grinning. ‘I wanna take you out on a date,’ he said, taking your hands in his and pulling them up to loop around his neck. ‘Whatd’ya say?’

‘I’d like that,’ you replied, grinning up at him before he moved to press his lips against yours one more time, tugging you away from your secluded spot as the two of you made your way back through the fair.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #elvis #elvis movie #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis #austin!elvis imagine

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drtyelvisfantasy · 8 months

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Prom Night Serenade🪩🎀

Parings: Austin!Elvis x reader

Summary: You and Elvis share a special night together at the schools senior prom

50s Austin!Elvis

Song for the fic: That’s My Desire

🪩🎀🪩🎀

The excitement buzzed in the air as the night of the school prom approached. You couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and anticipation. As you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your pink ruffled dress, you couldn't help but wonder how the night would unfold.

Just as you were about to head out, the sound of a familiar voice reached your ears. "Ready to go, darlin'?"

You turned around to see Elvis Presley standing at the doorway, looking beautiful in a pink suit that perfectly complemented his charm and matched your dress. A wide smile spread across your face as you took in his handsome appearance.

"Elvis!" you exclaimed, your heart fluttering. "You look amazing!"

He walked over to you, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "And you, my dear, are the most beautiful person in the room."

With a gentle touch, he held out his hand, waiting for you to take it. You gladly accepted, feeling a surge of warmth as his fingers intertwined with yours.

As you arrived at the prom venue, the grandeur of the decorations left you in awe. The ballroom twinkled with fairy lights, and the dance floor beckoned with its lively music. Couples swayed and twirled, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

Elvis led you onto the dance floor, his confident steps guiding your every move. The world around you seemed to melt away as you got lost in the music and the joy of being in his arms.

Together, you danced with grace and passion, the rhythm of the music syncing perfectly with your hearts. Every turn, every dip was a testament to the connection you shared. The way he held you close made you feel safe and loved, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

As the night went on, Elvis whispered sweet words in your ear, his voice a melody that only you could hear. "You're the most incredible person I've ever met, darlin'. I'm so lucky to have you by my side."

You blushed, a smile gracing your lips. "And I'm lucky to have you, Elvis. Dancing with you feels like a dream come true."

As the prom came to a close, the last song played, and it was your favourite song, “That’s My Desire” by Dion. The couples around you swayed slowly. Elvis pulled you close, his eyes locked with yours. "May I have this last dance, my beautiful girl?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you nodded, never wanting the night to end. Together, you swayed to the gentle melody, cherishing each moment as if time stood still.

In that final dance, surrounded by the love and the magic of the prom night, you knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of dances with the one and only love of your life, Elvis Presley.

🪩🎀🪩🎀

#austin butler x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fluff #austin butler fluff #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler #elvis presley #austin!elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis presley x you

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headfullofpresley · 1 year

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Ruin Me

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: You knew it was wrong. He was your father’s friend and fifteen years older, but you always got what you wanted and this time, you had your sights set on him.

Word count: 9,4K

Warning(s): 1968!El, comeback special!El, strong language, alcohol consumption, age gap (fifteen years), dom!El, bratty!reader, virgin!reader, smut; spanking, thigh riding, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, choking if you squint, reader lies about being on birth control.

Author’s note: enjoy, ya filthy animals. jk, i love yall <3.

masterlist

It was like every single person in every corner of the world dropped everything the second Elvis Presley’s Comeback Special was announced─it would be his first time performing in front of a live audience since years and his fans were quite literally fighting anyone that stood in between them and those tickets when they went on sale. Despite him working on his movies the past couple of years, the fans missed him and were craving for something fresh, something new. And Elvis would be sure to give them exactly what they wanted.

You were one of the lucky ones that was part of Elvis’ inner circle. With your father working in the industry and working with Elvis on a couple of his movies, the two became fast friends as they bonded over music, motorcycles and whatever else they’d talk about whenever Elvis came over at the house. You had no idea what they talked about most of the time and you simply did not care─the only thing you cared about was how good Elvis smelled whenever he leaned in to you to kiss your cheek as a way of greeting you and how he’d wink at you from across the dining table. You were hopelessly in love with your father’s best friend and you wouldn’t be surprised if he was well aware of it.

Elvis was indeed very aware of your feelings toward him. He could see it in your eyes the first time he was introduced to you and how you’d make it your mission to make the effects you had on him very difficult to hide. The way you’d flutter your long eyelashes at him every time he made eye contact with you and how your outfits got a little more skimpier every time he came around made it nearly impossible to keep up a conversation with your father. When he’d go in the living room to smoke a cigar with his friend and you’d clean the dining table with your mother, he didn’t miss how you’d bend over a little further than necessary, showing off your panties. At some point he noticed you stopped wearing panties all together, making him nearly lose his goddamn mind when he noticed your bare ass and tight little slit. Every time he was over at the house, he was praying that your parents would go to bed earlier than usual, leaving you behind with him. Unfortunately, they never did.

He never had the chance to make his move and when you started dating some 20 year old, he realised you thought he wasn’t phased by your actions or that he was simply rejecting you. You wanted him to do something so bad, take you up to your room and fuck your brains out while your parents were in the other room, and when he never did, your feelings were hurt. You figured it was time to take the next step─making him jealous. Show him what he was missing.

You nearly begged your father to let John, your new ‘boyfriend’, come along to the show and your father eventually agreed, knowing that you weren’t going to give up when your mind was set on something (or someone). You couldn’t give two shits about John, all you wanted was to see the look on Elvis’ face when you’d be all over your boyfriend.

As soon as you were all backstage before the show and Elvis wandered in the room clothed in a leather suit, exposing most of his chest, you nearly fainted right in front of everyone as if it was the first time you were seeing Elvis Presley in person.

He noticed you immediately and you watched as he greeted some people before making his way over to you and your family. John stood next to you with his arm wrapped around your waist and he could feel you were feeling nervous – you didn’t even give him a proper response when he asked if you were okay, your eyes glued on Elvis as his aura nearly swallowed you whole. If you were a cartoon character, hearts would definitely be popping out of your eyes right now.

“Hello darlin’,” he hummed after he greeted your parents, grinning at you as he leaned in closer. He planted a shameless and firm hand on your waist as he leaned in, kissing your cheek only inches away from your lips. His thumb that caressed your waist burned right through the thin fabric of your dress and you had to stop your eyes from rolling back, wanting nothing more than to grab him by that unholy leather jacket and be all over him. You were snapped back to reality when he moved back and looked at John, the grin on his face felt taunting.

“Who’s this?” he asked you, although his eyes were still very much on John and you watched as John seemed to shrink a few inches in Elvis’ presence. It was probably the hottest thing you had ever seen. “This is John,” you spoke up for the first time since he came in the room, slipping your arm around John’s shoulder as you pressed yourself against him. “My boyfriend,”

Elvis was in the middle of shaking his hand as those words left your mouth and he didn’t let go as he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, squeezing John’s hand firmly in his grip. John just smiled as he stood there, shaking his hand while trying not to show he was uncomfortable with his fingers being squeezed together.

“Boyfriend, huh? Didn’t know ya had one, doll,”

You hummed as you nodded, adding a bit more fuel to the fire as you kissed John’s cheek, placing a hand on his chest. Elvis chuckled deeply as he eventually let go of John’s hand, buttoning up his jacket. Your eyes were quick as they moved to his chest but Elvis noticed it, licking his lips as he tilted his head a little. “Let’s hope this one sticks, hm?” he laughed softly, trying to sound as casual as he could.

“Believe me, he will. We might even get married,” you told him matter of factly, the annoyance that was already bubbling in your veins full on cooking now when he just laughed and nodded, shooting you a wink.

“Oh, stop it with the nonsense, Y/N,” your father interrupted with a laugh, knowing that you and John definitely were not getting married – you hadn’t even been dating the kid for two weeks. You shot a glare at your father and Elvis as they fell into conversation with each other, leaving you to entertain John by yourself. You were happy when Elvis was eventually called out of the room since the show would be starting soon.

All throughout the show, you were close to having a mental breakdown. You had always known what a great performer Elvis was – you heard the stories, listened to the songs and even had him singing during get togethers at your own house but this was just insane. The way he was working the crowd, making contact with the people that were seated on the edge of the small square stage, made you curse everyone that worked on this special for the fact VIPs were not seated at the front. You still had a very good view at the back of the venue seeing it was a small one but when he got on his knee and let girls touching his leather thighs, it felt like you were turning green with jealousy. He knew exactly what he was doing when he found you in the crowd and shot you a wink as everyone was reaching out to him, manicured nails inching further up his thighs. You nearly broke every bone in John’s hand when he slipped it in yours, not giving him the chance to pull away.

You loved every minute of the show but you couldn’t be happier when it was over. Your parents must’ve thought you lost your damn mind when you pulled John along to follow Jerry back to the show room. You had to mentally prepare yourself for seeing Elvis again, all sweaty and hot this time, and for what you were going to say. It was time to bring the spoiled little brat to the surface.

As soon as he came into the room, champagne was popped and he was immediately swarmed by people congratulating him on finishing the first part of the special. The other parts would be shot without an audience the next day, so you wouldn’t have to sneakily rub your thighs together again until you’d watch it back on the television. You allowed John to pull you into his lap after you handed him a glass of champagne and grabbed his hand, placing it right on your ass as you pulled your legs up a little, letting the fabric of your dress ride up to expose more of your skin. You made a show of it when you’d kiss your boyfriend, giggling obnoxiously when he’d whisper in your ear, playfully slapping his chest as if whatever he was saying was oh so funny, perhaps even a little naughty. You forgot the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but Elvis didn’t need to know that.

The raven haired man could barely keep his eyes off of you – he’d try and be part of conversations, not showing anyone he was distracted, but you were putting him through hell. He was standing on the other side of the room and he had the perfect view of the back of your exposed thighs – he wanted nothing more than to stride over and pull your dress up a few inches more to expose your panties. If you were wearing any at all. Wouldn’t be the first time if you weren’t.

When you lifted your head out of John’s neck and looked over your shoulder to meet his eyes and give him a little finger wave, he downed the rest of his drink and excused himself from the people he was talking to.

Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed him walking over and you didn’t know if it was because your prayers had been heard or if it was because John felt so intimidated, but your boyfriend lifted you off of his lap as he said he was going to find a bathroom that wasn’t so crowded like the one in the show room.

You didn’t stop him, kicking off your heels to sit on your knees to look at Elvis as he sat down next to you. Your parents were distracted by other people and Elvis took the opportunity to place his hand just above your knee, fingertips dancing further up your thigh.

Other than an arm around your waist or around your shoulder, he had never touched you so boldly and especially not with your parents in the room. It certainly was a risky move but it made heat flush in between your legs, a tingle running down your spine as you pressed your elbow deeper into the back of the couch where it was resting.

‘‘What’s with you and this John kid?’’ he blurted out as his hand disappeared underneath the fabric of your dress, finger sprawling out against your skin before he squeezed the flesh of your thigh. You quickly took a sip of your champagne to not let out a squeak, looking at him and that stupid smug grin that was raising the corner of his mouth. You swallowed the bubbly alcohol and cleared your throat a little, moving your glass to your other hand. You were trying to keep up your act and not show him that he was making you feel all hot and bothered, but you were pretty sure you looked flushed and as if you were about to slip right off this damned couch.

‘‘What do you mean by that? I told you, he’s my boyfriend,’’ you said, keeping your voice as steady and confident as you could, even trying to sound a little sassy. You thought you were rather succesful, but he saw right through you.

‘‘He treat you well?’’

Your eyes met his and even though he was still showing dominance as he always was, you were wondering if that was jealousy that you heard on the back of his tongue. You didn’t comment on it though, instead sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you tilted your head. ‘‘Hmhm, he does. Takes me to the most expensive restaurants, buys me flowers,’’ you lied through your teeth, taking another sip of champagne. It wasn’t like John didn’t try to take you out but you always declined─growing up with one foot already in the entertainment industry due to your parents’ line of work, you always got everything that you wanted and you were used to the finer things in life, not deeming anything less acceptable. When John took you out to a drive in movie theater, you were bored out of your mind. You would much rather be mingling with people that had status and sipping champagne.

You’d make up all kinds of excuses to John to not have to go out with him most of the time, not only because you were spoiled but also because every time he’d kiss you, all you could think about was Elvis, Elvis and Elvis.

Before Elvis could speak, you looked around the room and when you noticed your parents were still distracted, you leaned in closer to the man next to you as you cupped your hand at the side of your mouth.

‘‘And he has a huge cock,’’

A complete lie. You were 18 and still a virgin─after Elvis Presley came into your life, you had made it your mission to lose said virginity to him and him only.

Elvis knew you were a virgin, he could see it in the way you were so needy for him. For a man to touch you. But he wouldn’t put you on the spot─if you wanted your first time to be with a man who knew how to actually fuck a woman, he would be more than willing to make that little dream of yours come true.

As you giggled and leaned back again, Elvis squeezed your thigh a little firmer and he succeeded in shutting you up immediately, teeth sinking into your tongue to hold back a small moan. His eyes found yours and you could’ve sworn his ocean blue ones darkened a little, tongue swiping over his bottom lip teasingly.

‘‘Seems like he hasn’t been using it well then, sweetheart. You still got a big mouth,’’ he whispered, though it was loud enough for you to hear. You squeezed your thighs together, trapping his fingertips in between them in the process, and you could feel your arousal sticking against the fabric of the panties you did decide to wear tonight. Now you wish you weren’t─with his fingers so close to where you wanted them, he could’ve touched you so easily. Just thinking about it made you almost jump the man with everyone present in the room. You cleared your throat a little, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you looked at him, steadying your breathing before you spoke.

‘‘Think you can do better?’’ you challenged him, tilting your head as you bit your lip seductively.

At this, he removed his hand completely and leaned in closer to you. He reached a hand out to your face, caressing some of your hair behind your ear with his fingertips as his eyes wandered over your face. You arched your back a little to stick out your chest, showing off the delicious cleavage your dress gave you─he looked down at it for a second, grin curling the corner of his lips as he looked back into your eyes again. ‘‘You bet I can,’’ he told you, leaning in even closer until his face was right next to yours, hot breath tickling against the shell of your ear. ‘‘You really think I believe your little lies, doll? You’re a spoiled little brat, there ain’t no way you’d think of someone like that worthy of your time,’’ he whispered, leaning back a little as his eyes found John in the crowd who came back into the room, awkwardly smiling and nodding at some people that walked by him. He stole a glass of champagne from a high table and stood near your parents, who weren’t giving him any attention either. Your parents weren’t interested in John at all, knowing that he wouldn’t last anyways.

Elvis laughed deeply, slipping his hand down to the back of your neck and he grinned at the way he could feel your heartbeat underneath the pad of his thumb. It was picking up by the minute and he knew it was because of him─perhaps it could’ve been your nerves, but in reality, it was because you were so excited to be this close to him and to have him say these words. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he just told you he could fuck you better than your boyfriend.

‘‘You’ve been a tease since the moment your father introduced me to you. Showin’ yourself off, eye fucking me from across the room,’’ he grinned as he turned back to face you, eyes wandering down to your cleavage again. You felt your cheeks heating up, nearly moaning at the way his thumb added a bit of pressure against your neck. ‘‘You’re playin’ a risky game, baby. Due for a spanking, if you ask me,’’

Oh sweet baby Jesus. You were going to lose your fucking mind, you were absolutely sure of it. As his eyes met yours, you grabbed onto the leather jacket he was still in, popping open some more buttons. He laughed as he removed his hand from your neck and grabbed onto your wrists, peeling them off of him which made you pout. You were so turned on that you didn’t even care John was looking right at you and that your parents were only a few feet away. Not to mention the other 30 something people in the room.

‘‘Get a few more of those in you and pretend you’re drunk,’’ he whispered in your ear before he nodded at the champagne glass in your hand and you knew it was an order, dominance dripping off of his tongue. All you could do was nod eagerly, watching him get up from the couch after he released his grip on you to walk over to Jerry. John immediately made his way over to you and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, downing your champagne before you were already on the hunt for a refill.

You did exactly as Elvis told you, drinking a few glasses of champagne but you made sure you wouldn’t really get drunk. The slight buzz you felt was enough because you had no idea what this night would bring you, even though you were fantasizing about Elvis fucking you in every corner of this room in great detail, and you did not want to black out when those fantasies would come true. He kept his eye on you the entire time, winking at you, holding up his glass as a sign for you to keep up the act. You were still able to act like a normal person because you weren’t exactly a lightweight but you made sure to slur your words a little more whenever speaking to John or anyone else, gigling obnoxiously. Anyone that spoke to you could see that you had a bit too much to drink and when Elvis could hear your mother expressing her worries to your father, he assured them he’d take care of you. He promised them to drive you home or have someone drive you home when you felt like leaving and since your father was so close to Elvis, he allowed it. The fact that you assured them you were still having fun and feeling good helped as well─your parents had never been really strict, so you were happy that they were not making a problem of this either.

‘‘Do you want me to stay, sweetie?’’ John asked as your parents were saying their goodbyes to other people, holding your hands lovingly. You nearly gagged in his face, but decided to feign a smile and shake your head. ‘‘No, no! Go. I know you have work in the morning,’’ you told him, kissing his cheek as you pulled your hands out of his. He looked at Elvis who was still next to you, his hand placed casually on your lower back. Even if John wanted to, he was too much of a pussy to say something to the man and you didn’t blame him with the way Elvis was impatiently tapping his boot on the floor, waiting for him to leave. John sighed and nodded, smiling at you as he pecked your lips─as he turned around to leave the dressing room with your parents, you wiped away his kiss with the back of your hand and turned to Elvis as soon as the door closed, smiling brightly.

He took you around the room for a little bit, socializing with people and even though you still wanted to jump his bones, you were actually having fun without having John breathing down your neck or the presence of your parents in the room. Elvis kept you by his side the entire time and it felt like he was showing you off, marking his territory─you had no idea if that was all just in your head, but you were indulging in the delusion nonetheless. After having a few more drinks and conversations, Jerry and Elvis exchanged a look from across the room and you were visibly startled as Elvis suddenly clapped in his hands, demanding everyone’s attention.

‘‘Alright, party’s over, folks. Y’all are wastin’ my liquor and I’m gettin’ tired of seeing your faces,’’ he announced with a big smile on his face, laughing as everyone did as well. Even though he made it come off in a playful manner, everyone started saying their goodbyes and collecting their things before slowly leaving the show room. That was just the kind of effect Elvis Presley had─people listened to him, wouldn’t matter what came out of his mouth. You admired that in a man, you admired that in him. You craved someone like that.

Within the span of five minutes, the room was completely deserted aside from you and Elvis. Even people he worked with or people from his private life that rarely left his side were gone and as you saw him closing the door and looking at you with hungry eyes and a grin on his face, you suddenly felt like a lamb caught in a wolf’s trap. And you enjoyed every single second of it.

‘‘Alone at last,’’ you hummed, grinning as you immediately grabbed onto his jacket when he was in arms reach. His hands cupped your face, licking his lips before he sunk his teeth in them, looking down at you. You were feeling so incredibly small and it was turning you on to no end. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt it could explode right through your chest at any second now and when his lips crashed onto yours, you felt like fireworks bursting into an array of colors throughout your entire body. You raised yourself on your toes a little, hungrily dipping your tongue deeper into his mouth as soon as he parted his lips─his hands tightened their grip on your face a little and you were nearly levitating, legs shaking as you tried to keep your balance on your toes. He noticed it and released your face but he was quick to wrap his arms around your waist, fingers tapping against your ass. You took the hint and moved your arms up to his shoulders, hopping up into his arms and you couldn’t help but clench around nothing at how easily he managed to catch you. He allowed you to pull back from the kiss and grinned at himself as you immediately started planting open mouthed kisses in his neck, tongue hungrily lapping at his cologne stained skin, not caring about the taste of it on your tongue. You barely noticed him walking over to the couch until he sat down on it with you straddling his waist, making you pull your head out of his neck.

He didn’t even have to ask you or do it himself, your hands already moving to the hem of your dress to pull it up and over your head, flinging it across the room. He raised an eyebrow at the pleasant surprise of you not wearing a bra and licked his lips, hands flying up to cup your breasts immediately, his thumbs caressing over your sensitive nipples. He could feel them hardening under his touch and hummed softly as he heard you moan softly, the sound making blood rush to his semi hard on that was making his leather pants tighter by the second.

He couldn’t wait to have his way with you.

‘‘Get up,’’ he ordered, his hands slipping from your breasts to your hips, lifting you off of him. You didn’t question him, you’d probably do anything he asked of you at this point, and got up, looking at him curiously. He grinned at you as he sat up a little straighter, nodding down to his lap. ‘‘Bend over,’’ he said, grabbing your arm to gently guide you over his knee─you had completely forgotten about the spanking comment he made earlier but you should’ve known he would be going through with it. After all, the man always lived up to his word.

Aside from when you were a little girl and you had stolen your mothers’ pearls, you had never been spanked. Especially not in a sexual setting like this one, but you couldn’t keep yourself quiet every time Elvis’ flat hand came into contact with your ass. He had pulled the fabric of your panties between your cheeks tightly so that his slaps would have more effect on your bare skin, both in sound and the delicious sting that came along with it. You lost count but you wouldn’t be surprised if his hand print was marked into your ass─neither would you mind it. Every time his hand landed against your skin and made your ass jiggle, it sent a vibration right to your pussy and you were absolutely sure you were leaking by now.

‘‘If only they could see you now,’’ he grinned menacingly, obviously meaning your parents. And probably also John.

His hand connected to your skin harshly, making you moan as you grabbed onto one of the decorative pillows on the couch, squeezing it. He pulled it out of your hands roughly, pulling your arms back to hold them behind your back. Trapping your wrists against your back underneath his large palm, he let out a mean laugh, making your walls clench pathetically.

‘‘You always get everything you want, don’t ya?’’

Another slap, followed by another moan.

‘‘You’re.. y-you’re.. giving m-me what I want r-right n-now,’’ you whimpered, trying to wiggle your ass, already missing the pain. He tightened his grip on your wrists, leaning down to you a little bit. ‘‘What was that, doll?’’ he hummed, landing a slap against your ass cheek so hard the sound bounced off of the four walls in the room and you could’ve sworn you were seeing white spots clouding your vision. It hurt like hell, more than the other ones, and tears stung in your eyes. Yet you still found yourself wanting more. More more more. You wanted him to ruin you, use you.

You didn’t repeat the question and he grinned as he looked back down at your ass, his palm rubbing the spot he just slapped. ‘‘That’s what I thought. About time someone taught you a lesson,’’ he chuckled devilishly, his fingertip hooking underneath the fabric of your panties to pull it up and back a little, the fabric rubbing against your clit roughly but oh so deliciously. You pressed your head into the couch, moaning lewdly and needily as he continued the action for a little bit. You were desperately trying to chase the feeling, whining when he released your panties from his grip and he continued his assault on your ass for a little longer. It got to the point where you were nearly crying and when he noticed your thighs shaking out of your control, he released your wrists out of his grip and pulled you up. You let him pull down your panties, a string of your slick coming down with it and the sight of it made his cock twitch in the confinements of his pants. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, not knowing when the opportunity would present itself again.

He spread his legs as he grabbed onto your waist, guiding you down to straddle his thigh. The contact of the leather against your exposed pussy made you whine softly and he sat up a bit more so you were able to plant your knees on the spacious couch. You looked at him as he laced his fingers together behind his head, arrogant smirk on his face as he just raised an eyebrow at you. As if to say, ‘‘What are you waiting for?’’

You placed your hands against his chest as you slowly started thrusting your hips back and forth, your leaking arousal making it easy as you slipped right over the leather of his pants. The feeling was foreign─nothing like the pillow you had humped in your teenage years, nor did it come close to the feeling of your own fingers. The leather was heating up the faster you were moving and perhaps you should be worried, but you couldn’t get yourself to stop, moans rolling over your tongue like a prayer. His eyes were on you the entire time and the longer you went on, the more you regained your confidence and he enjoyed every second of the little show you were giving him. You were sitting up a little straighter now, hands running through your hair, slipping down your neck to your breasts─you heard him let out a deep groan as you squeezed your breasts, pinching your nipples, as you threw your head back and circled your clit on the flexing muscles of his clothed thigh.

‘‘Look at you. Such a little slut,’’ he mumbled as you looked at him again, teeth sinking into your index finger as you squeezed your breasts together with your forearms, moaning extra seductively for him. ‘‘Bet you fantasized about this moment so many times before, hm?’’

His words were only motivating you to go faster and harder, ruining the fabric of his pants but neither you or him seemed to care. You moaned as you nodded at him, your hands falling back on his chest to keep yourself steady as you found the right spot of stimulation which would get you right where you wanted to go. He unclasped his hands from behind his head and grabbed onto your chin, parting your lips as he grinned at you. ‘‘Use your words, little girl,’’

‘‘Y-Yes,’’ you moaned. ‘‘I h-have. Always t-thinking ‘bout you, D-Daddy,’’

He hadn’t expected those words to leave your mouth but with the way it made his cock twitch in his pants, he wasn’t complaining. He would be a fool to.

‘‘That’s right,’’ he grinned smugly as his hands landed on your waist, guiding your movements as he made you move even faster and kept you steady on his thigh. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d slip right off of the leather with how wet you were. ‘‘I’m your Daddy now, baby girl. You understand?’’ he hummed as he leaned forward a bit to plant a few kisses on your jawline, giving you the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck which you greatly took. His words were making your head spin and all you could do was nod and mumble a ‘yes’. He allowed the lack of words this time.

Every single one of his touches felt as if your bones were set aflame and you could feel your orgasm fast approaching. You were a moaning mess as you clenched your toes, clinging onto him for dear life, fingers tangling into his dark locks. He guided you right through your first orgasm of the night, holding you still with his large hands on your waist as you came undone on his thigh, your chest heaving erratically as if you just finished running a marathon. You were dizzy, your heart thumping in your ears─even though you still technically gave yourself this orgasm, it was your first time coming undone in front and with someone else. You felt vulnerable and comfortable at the same time, a feeling that you did not want to lose any time soon.

‘‘You enjoyed that, baby girl?’’ he grinned at you as he pecked your lips. Despite this being the same man that bruised your ass a little while ago, he was still able to make you feel comfortable around him. Honestly, he could do anything and you’d still think he was the perfect man, because to you that was the truth and nothing but the truth.

You ran your hands through his hair as you nodded, catching your breath as you looked at him. He smiled but before he could kiss you once more, you brought yourself back to your feet as you pulled open the rest of his jacket, pushing it down his shoulders. He laughed softly as he helped you take it off, watching you place your hands on his knees to spread his legs─he allowed it and bit his lip at the sight of you getting on your knees in between his legs. He probably had been waiting for this as long as you had, but the alpha male and the size of his ego wouldn’t let him speak those words out loud.

You did not care at all, because you were getting exactly what you wanted in this moment. You were about to lose your virginity to Elvis fucking Presley, you were riding high on that pink cloud.

Your fingers were greedy and quick when you undid his pants, pulling down the leather to the best of your abilities. It wasn’t the best fabric to work with when in heated situations like this, but you managed to get it down to his thighs which was all you needed for now, really. Since he wasn’t wearing any underwear, his cock sprung free right in front of your eyes, twitching impatiently as you looked at it with those hungry eyes. As you looked up at Elvis, you squeezed your thighs together at the sight of his half lidded eyes looking back at you, impatient hand gathering your hair together in a makeshift ponytail. You felt a hint of panic settling in your stomach─you had a big fucking mouth, but you had never sucked a dick in your life. Even though you were pretty sure Elvis already knew this was your first time, you did not want to seem like you were completely inexperienced. As long as you wouldn’t use your teeth, you’d be fine, right?

You started off slow, letting your tongue trace the veins of the shaft before you’d swirl your tongue around the tip. You had one hand wrapped around him to hold him up, lowering it a little as you wrapped your lips around him, moving your head down to take him in deeper. He gently grabbed your hand with his free one, removing it from his cock as he moaned at the feeling of his tip touching the back of your throat. You groaned softly, bringing your head back up only to repeat the action of deep throating him again. And again. And again. And again. Tears were starting to sting in your eyes, clouding your vision but the sounds he was making made you almost addicted to having his cock in your mouth. He could see you were struggling and bit his lip, grinning softly as he released your hand.

‘‘Use your little hand, baby,’’ he told you and you immediately did as he told you to, wrapping your hand around his cock again to assist you with the blowjob you were giving him. You were looking up at him with curious eyes the whole time and eventually you found yourself falling into a comfortable rhythm which he seemed to find pleasurable as well by the sounds of his moans and the way he was bucking his hips up a little. You picked up your pace and it didn’t take very long before drool was spilling out from the corners of your mouth, slipping down your chin as you gave him the most sloppy but delicious blowjob he had ever gotten. Most girls weren’t very fond of blowjobs and therefor not very good at it because they lacked motivation and didn’t have fun with it, but you were enjoying yourself down there. You wanted all of him, every inch of his body and soul, and if that meant you gave head like this, he certainly wasn’t complaining.

You wanted nothing more than to suck him completely dry and for him to paint the back of your throat white, but he pulled you up before he could fulfill that fantasy of yours. You licked your lips before you pouted at him, allowing him to pull you up nonetheless.

‘‘Can’t always get what you want, princess,’’ he grinned teasingly and you giggled softly, wiping your chin with the back of your hand before you kissed him. He allowed it, slipping his tongue into your mouth hungrily as he did not give a damn about tasting himself on your tongue. He kicked his boots off, pushing you down onto the couch─his tongue was still exploring your mouth as he turned around and placed his hands on the arm rest of the couch your head was against, teeth nibbling at your lower lip teasingly as he eventually pulled back. He stood up straight and you watched him take off his pants, laughing softly as he struggled with it for a little bit but before you could help him, he managed to get it down and off of his ankles, kicking it aside. You waited impatiently and nervously as he spread your legs, situating himself in between them as he got on his knees. You pictured him in this exact moment so many times and now that it was actually happening, you felt as if you were dreaming. It made you sneakily dig your fingernails into the palms of your hands, smiling softly at him when you realised this was in fact very real.

He made sure you knew it was real. You couldn’t compare it to anyone or anything else, but the way he was eating you out was mindblowing. You couldn’t be quiet even if you wanted to and you were sure anyone that walked by the show room knew exactly what was going on, but you simply did not care. His name was rolling off of your tongue like a chant as he slipped in a finger, adding another one a few seconds later─he was preparing you for what was about to come, just as he was preparing himself. You were tight as hell around his fingers and he could only imagine how you’d feel when wrapped around his cock, all snug, wet and warm. God, he could hardly wait anymore, but he wanted this to be comfortable for you despite you acting like you were so tough and ready for it all.

He knew losing your virginity was something big, especially for young girls, and he did not want your first time to be something you’d look back on with regrets or whatsoever. He wanted this to be good for you, wanted you to remember it for the rest of your life.

The feeling of having two fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you was new and a little uncomfortable at first, but as you felt yourself getting used to it, you couldn’t stop your hips from chasing his fingers and mouth. He was everywhere─curling his fingers inside of you, sucking on your clit, tongue flattening as he slipped it through your folds. At one point, his entire mouth covered your pussy but this time, he pulled back before you could reach that little piece of delicious euphoria. You whined at the loss of contact and he laughed softly, getting up to plant one foot on the floor and one knee on the edge of the couch, situating himself in between your legs.

‘‘I’m on the pill,’’ you immediately said before he could do or say anything. A lie, but you were too impatient for him to go around the room and look for a condom. Neither were you sure if he even had one in here or anywhere else and you just couldn’t wait anymore. You needed to have him and you needed it now.

He was just as impatient as you and didn’t question you on it, pulling you down on the couch a little further until he was lingering right in front of you. Wrapping his hand around his cock, he slipped his tip through your folds, circling it against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

‘‘Are you ready for me, baby girl?’’

A stupid question, honestly. You were more than ready for him and when you whined and nodded eagerly, his lips curled into a smirk. He slipped his tip down to your untouched little hole, pushing himself into you.

You gasped at the painful intrusion, hands flying to grab onto the couch as you stared up at him with wide eyes. You didn’t give him any indication that you wanted to stop, so he pushed himself further and further, until he couldn’t anymore. He held still as he pressed his hips forward into you firmly, holding onto your shaky thighs.

You felt so fucking full.

You had no idea if you were delusional or not, but you could’ve sworn you felt him in your stomach.

You were whining and panting, the pain almost unbearable as tears formed in your eyes. You had no idea how people could enjoy this and you hated your body for betraying you and being so needy for this man. Maybe John should’ve been the one who took your virginity instead, you knew he was way smaller than the one inside of you right now. But you weren’t giving up. You could do this, you were a big girl.

Elvis was still Elvis and you were still head over heels for him. He was finally giving you what you wanted for so long, you wouldn’t dare to complain about it now.

His hands caressed up your thighs before he placed them on the back and arm rest of the couch. As he leaned over you, he pressed into you harder and it made you gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders instead. He could feel you clenching around him viciously, panicked.

‘‘Relax, little girl. This is what ya wanted, right?’’ he whispered, his breath hot on your face as he grazed his lips over yours. You whined softly, nodding as your hands grabbed onto his hair. You were clinging onto him for dear life.

‘‘Then relax. Won’t feel good if you don’t,’’

You were trying. You were trying so hard. But as he slowly pulled his hips back before he thrusted forward again, you let out a strangled moan, teeth sinking into your lip as your cheeks flushed a shade of heavy crimson.

‘‘H-Hurts..’’ you croaked out, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. He grinned softly as he nuzzled the tip of his nose against yours, his eyes boring into yours.

‘‘Give Daddy a kiss. It’ll take your mind off of the pain, baby,’’

You didn’t hesitate for one second, pressing your lips onto his harshly as you allowed him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. He kissed you like you had never been kissed before, teeth grazing your lower lip, sucking on your tongue─and it did take your mind away from the ache in between your thighs as he continued his movements. The more he thrusted into you, stretching you out on his cock, the more pleasure returned to the pit of your stomach. It was still a tad bit uncomfortable, but not enough for you panic over anymore.

You wanted more. Wanted it harder. Faster.

‘‘P-please,’’ you moaned in his mouth, your hips moving up to try and follow his movements. You were a complete amateur, not even knowing what you were doing, but you were far too gone to be embarrassed about it now. He didn’t care either. The way you were sucking him in every time he’d thrust into you and the way you’d clench around him got him growling into your mouth, his tongue lapping needily at yours. He picked up his pace and your moans steadily grew louder, having to pull away from his face so you could gasp in a breath of air.

‘‘Feel good now, hmm?’’ he grinned as he straightened himself up again, his large hands holding onto your hips to keep you still as he fucked into you. ‘‘Like it when Daddy fucks you like this? Been waitin’ on it, haven’t ya?’’

You couldn’t give him a proper answer other than eager nods and whiny moans. While he had been nice minutes earlier and gave you the time you needed to adjust to the feeling of having him inside of you, he could see you were starting to enjoy the feeling more and more and he was done playing nice.

One of his hands wandered up, grabbing your jaw to make your head turn and have you face him again. ‘‘Lost your tongue, little one?’’

You tried to shake your head no, which was nearly impossible with the dead grip he had on you. You grabbed onto his arm, but it wasn’t to get him off of you, you just needed something to hold onto. ‘‘F-feels.. g-good.. so fuckin’ good,’’ you moaned as your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his thrusts became calculated and hard. He’d pull out to the point where the head of his cock nearly slipped out of you, but before it could he had already thrusted back into you. Your entire body shook, moving further up the couch with every thrust. ‘‘W-Waited for so so l-long…’’

‘‘Turn around, baby,’’ he suddenly ordered as he pulled out of you completely and let go of your face, making you whine desperately at the loss of contact. ‘‘On your knees,’’ he grinned at you, sending you a wink that made your heart stammer against your ribcage as he softly tapped your thigh.

You didn’t question him on it as you sat up and quickly turned around, getting on your knees as you leaned your forearms on the back of the couch. You arched your back as his hands caressed down your sides and over the shape of your ass, moaning softly as he squeezed the flesh in his large palms. One of his hands moved to your thigh, tugging on it softly as he spoke, ‘‘Put your leg up like this,’’

You raised your leg, allowing him to place it the way he wanted to─your foot flat on the couch as your other knee was still pressing into it. The position wasn’t uncomfortable but even if it would’ve been, you’d probably allow this man to fold you in half and still think of him as the man of your dreams. You looked over your shoulder as you felt the couch dip, biting your lip as you watched him align himself at your entrance again.

‘‘Fuckin’ tight little pussy,’’ he hummed as he pushed himself into you, looking at you with a cocky smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking beautiful, you could cum by just looking at him and listening to his voice─wouldn’t be the first time. But this was so much better than touching yourself when looking at a picture of him. ‘‘All for me, ain’t that right?’’

Your nails dug into the fabric of the couch as you frantically nodded at his words, moaning at being so full of him once more. The stretch was still there, the mix of pain and pleasure making you only want it more. In the position you were in, he was able to wind one arm around your waist and as he thrusted into you while his fingers circled your clit skilfully, you were pretty sure half of the building probably heard what was going on. Your voice felt foreign to your ears as you moaned out his name over and over again and even when he grabbed your face and made you look at him so he could kiss you, you weren’t able to keep yourself quiet.

You tried to tell him every time how your body belonged to him every time he questioned you on it, but he could see you were going dumb. He watched your face with a smug grin, loving the way you were looking at him with such needy and sex hazed eyes, your tongue stuck out as you tried to chase his mouth every time it came close to yours. You were so desperate, and he loved every second of it.

If you knew this is what an orgasm given to you by a man felt like, you would’ve never dared to have gone through with this. The first few seconds of it building up were scary─as if you were standing on the edge of a cliff with absolutely nothing around you to hold onto and all you could was let yourself fall head first. Elvis knew it was coming, with the way you were tightening around his length, nor did he miss the way there was a soft hint of panic on your tongue as you moaned desperately. Your eyes found his and he gave you a soft smile, his hips and fingers never faltering in their moment of assault. You were trying to get away from him, but you were trapped in between his body and the couch. You were positive you were tearing up the couch with your nails as you squeezed your eyes shut, letting pleasure consume every inch of your being─the fireworks that followed were definitely worth the panic which had now completely disappeared.

‘‘That’s a good girl,’’ he hummed in your ear as his hand slipped down to your throat, ringed fingers stealing a bit of your oxygen as sloppily kissed your jaw and neck. He was still thrusting into you at an ungodly speed, but you weren’t able to speak a single word, let alone form a cohorent sentence. ‘‘Daddy’s gonna fill you up, baby. Make you feel so full you’ll almost taste it,’’ he growled in your ear, moving his hand further up your throat so his fingertips were messily caressing over your lower lip. You took the opportunity to suck some of his digits into your mouth and he allowed it, grinning against your skin as he had his face pressed up firmly against yours.

‘‘W-Want that, D-Daddy,’’ you cried out, your thighs shaking like crazy because of the overstimulation he was currently having you go through despite his fingers having been removed from your clit. His arm was wrapped around your waist tightly, his hips relentless as he was grunting out profanities in your ear. ‘‘Want your c-cum in me,’’

It was all he needed to hear. And now was the first time you could feel the movements of his hips faltering, stuttering forward as he bit on your earlobe while painting your soft moist walls white. You knew it was probably dangerous since you lied to him about being on the pill, but you wouldn’t care if you’d get pregnant. Despite the age difference, you wanted him, you needed him. And if that meant you’d be put in a position to carry his child, so be it. You’d give up everything and anything to be with this man. You were obsessed.

He slipped out of you, watching you slump over the back of the couch as you put your leg down, his cum dribbling down your thighs. Your ass was red from the way he had been slapping it earlier and his wandering hands squeezing at it every chance he got. Truly a sight for sore eyes.

You turned your head to look at him when he sat down on the couch next to you, pulling your weakened body onto his lap. You stretched your legs onto the couch─they felt like jelly, in the absolute best way possible. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you against his chest, you smiled softly at him and pressed your bare chest against him as far as the position would allow you to. Despite the orgasm you just had and his cum dripping out of you, you were still needy.

You’d probably turn into a sex crazed maniac because of this man and you were more than okay with that.

‘‘Get rid off that fucker,’’ he referred to your so called boyfriend, his eyes taking in every little detail of your face. You’d blush at the way he was looking at you, but you were still too turned on to care about it now. The tone of his voice was demanding and you’d be a fool to protest. ‘‘I ain’t gonna watch you fool around with anyone else,’’

‘‘But what if I want to fool around with other people?’’ you grinned teasingly at him and even though he glared at you and squeezed your thigh in warning, he liked it when you were a little bratty.

‘‘Then I’ll kill ‘em,’’ he grinned as he watched you throw your head back with a laugh, his hand slipping in between your thighs. You bit your lip as you looked back at him, immediately spreading your legs open for him. You shivered as his fingertips ran through your folds, dipping into you to cover his digits in your arousal and his own cum. ‘‘This pussy is mine. You understand, don’t ya, darlin’?’’

He brought his fingers up to your lips and you took them in your mouth immediately, nodding at him as you licked his fingers clean with a flutter of your eyelashes.

‘‘I belong to you, Daddy. Only to you,’’ you assured him eagerly as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, grabbing your chin to bring your face closer to his. He placed an open mouthed kiss on your lips but before you had the chance to deepen the kiss, he pulled back and smiled at you. His hand was back in between your thighs again, pushing two fingers inside of you without warning. You gasped, planting one hand against his chest as your other was wrapped firmly around his shoulder, clinging onto him.

‘‘You didn’t think I was done, did ya? We got all night, baby,’’ he hummed as he curled his fingers as he was knuckle deep inside of you, rubbing his palm against your clit. You dug your nails into his shoulder as you moaned, leaning your head against his. ‘‘And I plan to take my time with you,’’

And that he did. You had been fucked on every surface in the room. Even in the shower you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other and when he brought you home in the early hours of the morning, you felt and looked like an absolute mess. Your muscles were aching, your neck and collarbones marked with hickeys, eyes dark with make-up. You managed to sneak into your room without waking up your parents and crawled into bed as soon as you pulled your dress off, not caring about your messy make-up or hair that was still damp from the shower you took at the venue.

You needed an entire day to recover from the night you had with Elvis, but you couldn’t wait for the next time. You loved him and now that he had finally given you what you wanted, there was no way in hell you could leave him alone anymore.

You craved for him to ruin you, in the worst (and most delicious) way possible.

#elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley smut #austin!elvis smut #elvis presley imagine #austin!elvis imagine #elvis presley fanfiction #austin!elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #austin!elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis biopic #elvis presley history #elvis #dom!elvis #tamwrites

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candy-ishu · 1 year

Text

tough love

pairing: austin!elvis x little reader

summary: little reader is jealous and ignores her daddy, but elvis will always be there to put her in her place.

warnings: angst, comfort at the end, caregiver elvis

word count: 2,344

note: this is my last little reader fic for a little while, and once again i understand if everyone is not comfortable with these type of fits, but they bring me comfort and hopefully comfort others as well. if you dislike it, please just skip and do not spread hate or negativity on my page. i hope you all enjoy and thank you for the support on my previous fics!

you had decided that everything was stupid.

the wall you were staring at was stupid, the pillows next to you were stupid, vegas was stupid, the international hotel was stupid, daddy was stupid, press conferences were stupid, meet and greets were stupid. you heard the phone ring again. the phone was stupid too.

you hadn't picked up almost all day. it just had been against the wall, vibrating constantly, as you did mindless chores around the suite until you finally gave in and let yourself sit next to it.

it started ringing again and after a few seconds, you realized you were getting a phone call. you sighed dramatically and picked it up, deciding to answer.

"hello?"

"hey hun," jerry greeted.

"hi jerry. what's up?"

"EP told me you weren't answering the phone and he was starting to get worried so i wanted to call just to make sure everything was okay."

you smiled at his tone. he was trying to be nonchalant but you knew him long enough to hear the concern underlying in it.

"everything is okay jerry," you answered into the phone. "thank you, though. don't you need to make sure elvis is situated for the press conference?"

"yes ma'am, it starts in a few minutes," he replied sheepishly. i just wanted to check in real quick so i can get boss to relax. oh by the way, EP is heading back to the hotel immediately after the meet and greet is over, he was going to do an interview afterwards but he decided to reschedule."

"oh, okay well i'll see you guys soon then," you said, trying to keep your smile out of your tone.

"alright, i got to go but i'll see you soon. and," jerry paused for a second. "reply to EP's voicemails yeah? you know i try to stay out of your relationship but he does get really worried when he doesn't hear from you and he's already stressed cause of the-"

"i know, jerry," you cut him off before he could finish. "i will, have a good time, okay? don't let the press go too hard on him." you heard his laugh echo through the other side of the phone and you couldn't help but smile.

"thanks, talk to you soon," he said before finally hanging up.

you stared at the phone for a moment, contemplating before finally checking the voicemails. you had five new ones all from elvis.

"good morning, baby doll. don't forget to eat breakfast okay? i have a press conference and a meet and greet today but i'll be back at the hotel right after and we can watch a movie or bake cookies, how's that sound? be good while i'm gone and try to call me back soon okay? i love you baby i'll be back soon."

you pressed on the button to listen to the most recent voicemail.

"hey doll, is everything alright? i'm about to go into the conference room but i wanted to call you first and you're not picking up. i can send jerry over to check on you to make sure you're okay. try to get back to me baby, please i'm gettin worried. i love you little one i'll see you soon."

you played with the idea of not responding at all for a moment, but you couldn't do it. you already felt guilty for worrying him, but you were upset and frustrated and you wanted him to be at home cuddling with you, not at some press conference answering stupid questions for nosey people, not at some meet and greet talking to random girls. you pursued your lips as you pressed the record voicemail button.

"hi daddy i'm okay, i just took a long nap during the day so that's why i didn't respond earlier. i love you too, see you later daddy."

you hung the phone back on the wall before marching to the living room. you plopped down on the couch and turned the tv on to some random cartoons, hoping to distract yourself until elvis got there.

the time passed by quickly, different cartoons came and went across the tv screen but you were only half paying attention. you had decided to lay down across the couch and were just starting to fall asleep when you heard the door unlocking.

you stood up with a sigh, not wanting to face him right away and dragged your feet to your shared bedroom and sat on the bed. "doll?" you heard him call out from the front door. "in the bedroom," you quietly answered. you heard his firm footsteps draw closer and he slowly opened the door.

"hey baby girl," elvis greeted gently, giving you a small smile. he removed his expensive glasses and placed them on the dresser. you were finally able to notice the obvious concern laced into his expression.

"hi," you responded.

"did you have a good day today darlin?" he asked and came to sit next to you on the bed.

you just nodded and stood up to walk towards the drawer, pulling out a nightgown. you walked to the bathroom and left the door open and you started to quickly change out of your shirt and leggings. it was quiet for a few moments and you tried to ignore the way elvis was watching you, probably trying to figure out if you were in little space or not. once you finished changing, he eventually spoke up.

"baby c'mere," he called out.

you let a small sigh and walked towards him, trying to hide your frustrated expression. once you were in front of him, elvis brought his hand up to your hips and tried to pull you down on his lap but you took a step back. he grabbed your hand to stop you from backing up anymore.

"why are you upset?" he asked.

"m'not," you responded shortly.

"sit down, doll" elvis demanded, standing up. you sighed again and sat down obediently. you hated how easily you could submit to him. you kept your gaze downwards, not wanting to look up at him.

"baby doll," he said slowly. you didn't say anything so he continued. "tell daddy what's wrong."

you felt your resolve crumbling, but you weren't ready to admit it yet. "no," you said stubbornly, shaking your head.

"if you don't tell daddy what's wrong, how is he supposed to help you?" he asked in his very best daddy voice. you stared at the floor so you wouldn't have to look at him.

"don't want daddy to help me," you mumbled unconvincingly. any willpower to resist or argue has completely melted away. instead of trying to keep up any act of being a frustrated young women, you had given in to being a frustrated and bratty little. elvis had caught on quickly.

"and why not, little one?"

"because," you muttered under your breath, "daddy's busy. daddy has stupid questions to answer for stupid people. daddy has fan meets with pretty girls to go to. daddy doesn't have time for me."

his response was quicker than you expected, and it actually wasn't the reaction you were expecting at all. "look at me." elvis said, his voice carried a tone of authority with it that made you hesitant to disobey, but you weren't sure you were ready to listen yet. "now, little girl." you looked up at him cautiously. his expression was calm, but you could tell it was tense. you weren't sure if his patience or sympathy had run thin, but it didn't seem like he was going to let you be a brat any longer.

"have i ever put my career before my relationship with you?" he asked in the same authoritative tone. you both knew he hadn't, he always balanced being a celebrity and being with you amazingly, you didn't say that though. you didn't say anything. "have i ever forgotten to check on you during the day? or not call you regularly when i'm on tour? have i ever not been there when you needed me? have i ever not made time for you?"

you shook your head at him and looked down once again. he reached his hand to grab your face and forced you to look up at him. "look at me when i'm talking to you, little girl. answer my question. have i ever gone a day without telling you i love you?"

"no," you said begrudgingly, your voice barely a whisper.

"then don't you dare tell me i don't have time for you. listen to me, i understand if you're upset that i have to give my attention to other people. i know how hard it is for you to be dating someone like me and you're allowed to be upset about it sometimes. you're allowed to not like my work schedule, or that i go on tour for weeks at a time without seeing you. you're allowed to get upset and frustrated and jealous at all of those things, that's okay. but you are not allowed to be a brat because of it. do you understand me?"

you could feel your eyes beginning to fill with tears and you suddenly felt very small and fragile. elvis was right and you hated it. all the guilt for the way you acted rushed in at once and you couldn't argue with him anymore. "yes, daddy," you whispered, trying to blink back the tears before they spilled over, "i'm sorry."

elvis watched you for a moment before sighing in resignation and opening his arms towards you. "c'mere," he said. he placed his hands under your arms and lifted you up, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. he turned around and sat back on the bed with you straddling him. you pressed your face against his chest and the tears slipped out. he held you against him tightly, using one of his hands to rub gentle circles around your back. "shh you're okay baby. you're not in trouble."

"m'not?" you sniffed quietly. "you're not mad at me?"

"no, baby doll, i'm not mad at you," elvis reassured you. "daddy will never get mad at you for feeling upset about something, okay? but you need to use your big girl words next time. you can't ignore daddy and make him worry about you all day because you're upset, you hear me?"

you were starting to relax a bit under his touch and the feeling of his hands caressing your back always soothed you. "it's hard though," you whined quietly.

"i know it's hard, baby girl. c'mon, look at me real quick." he removed his hands from your hips and reached up to gently tilt your head so you were looking at him. his expression was one of pure patience and compassion. you almost wanted to hide just because of how gentle he was being with you. "let's practice, okay? what could you say next time time you feel this way."

"i don't know…" you admitted. he waited patiently as you thought about it for a moment. "umm, meet and greets are stupid and all the pretty girls there are stupid and i don't want them anywhere near my daddy?"

elvis was trying not to grin at your response but he wasn't doing a very good job. you were glad that he could still find the situation amusing if nothing else. "is it nice to call people stupid, baby?" he asked, trying his best to be serious.

"no," you sighed. "but it's true, daddy." he raised an eyebrow and you sighed again. "okay, it's not true. they're not stupid, i just… i know meet and greets are really important and i'm really glad that you have so many fans and that you're music is doing so amazingly, it's just… frustrating sometimes because they really like you but i really like you and i just get… jealous."

"i would hope you would like me considering i'm your boyfriend," elvis teased and you rolled your eyes at him. he graciously chose to ignore it.

"you know what i mean."

"i know, baby. i'm just teasing." you could feel yourself starting to smile a bit despite how upset you were. you had no idea how elvis always knew exactly what to say to fix it, but he did. he thought for a moment before speaking again. "what if next time you felt jealous you said, 'daddy, i feel really jealous right now and this is what i need from you?'"

you stared at him hesitantly for a moment, feeling unsure of yourself. "i'm allowed to say that?" you asked.

he grinned down at you. "of course you are, doll."

you closed your eyes and took a deep breathe, trying to work out your throughts before very slowly saying, "daddy, i'm feeling really jealous and sad and guilty right now and i really need… i think i need you to cuddle me and tell me everything's okay and you're not mad at me and you love me." the words all rushed out at once and you kept your eyes closed until you felt elvis' hand cup your cheek. when you were confident enough to open them again, you saw he was smiling at you proudly.

"i love you so much, baby doll," he said gently, "and i'm not mad at you. i am so so proud of you right now. i know that was probably really hard but you did amazing. and you're okay, and we're okay and everything's okay right now. so i would love nothing more than to hold you super tight in my arms and watch a movie with you. how's that sound, darlin?"

"that sounds good, daddy," you responded shyly, blush coloring your cheeks. "i'm sorry i was being difficult earlier. i love you."

"its okay, sweet girl. i forgive you and i love you more than anything. c'mere give me a kiss." he leaned forward to kiss you softly on the lips. "now, go pick out a movie."

#elvis #elvis headcanons #elvis x reader #elvis presley headcannons #elvis presley #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis presley x reader #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis imagine #elvis x y/n #elvis presley fanfiction #austin butler fanfiction #elvis imagine #angst #fluff #comfort #elvis fic #austin butler elvis

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austinsmutler · 11 months

Note

i think this is the request box??? SORRY UGH))) hi!! first time requesting! Could you do a BDE(or Austin)! Elvis x reader (could use she/her pronouns). Reader is timid and socially awkward. During one of Elvis’ shows, the staff at the venue are being really rude to her while she’s trying to get to his dressing room and saying like “just because you’re sleeping with him doesn’t give you any authority to come back here.” Elvis hears about this and confronts them after the show telling them that if they ever talk to his pretty girl like that again that he would do more than just fire them (FIRST TIME REQUESTING IM SORRY THIS IS A REALLY AWKWARD REQUEST)))

Oooh Anon. You’ve single-handedly pulled me out of my writing block with this request. If I could hug you, I would, but instead enjoy Austin!Elvis wanting to burn the world down to protect reader. I hope it's worth the wait.

Keep sending requests for Austin!Elvis, guys! These are so fun!

It's Only Love - Austin!Elvis x Reader - 2,000 words

What you’ll like: Protective Elvis, BDE Elvis, hurt/comfort, pet names ('baby' and 'pretty girl'), Elvis stands up to Colonel

Warnings: Period-typical misogyny, mild violence (nothing major or graphic but there is some grabbing)

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want!)

“Well I’m leaving town baby, I’m leaving town for sure, then you won’t be bothered with me hanging round your door- but that’s alright…” Your boyfriend drawled into the microphone, leaning in with a sultry sway of his hips that had the crowd sighing.

Elvis’ eyes found yours as he sang, “But that’s alright, that’s alright now mama, any way you do… Woo-hoo!” He howled as the song, and the show, finished.

The girls around you went wild, showering the stage in everything from red roses to their bras. It was always a strange sight, especially when one bra fell over Elvis’ head and he turned to throw it at Bill, the bass player, with a laugh.

You’d been there every step of the way on the tour, from Memphis to Lousianna and all the way to North Carolina. No matter where Elvis went, there was a crowd of girls screaming his name and throwing their garments at his feet.

But you weren’t one of them. Elvis’ eyes always picked you out in the crowd and held you, performing your favorites as a secret serenade in every show.

You’d known Elvis since you were children, growing up together on the outskirts of Tupelo, sneaking into Black Pentecostal churches together, and- slowly as growing up- falling in love.

Your parents hardly had to be persuaded to let you follow him across the country, because you had practically been married since the first time Elvis had grabbed your hand and led you inside the tent as they sang Up Above My Head. Elvis didn’t just teach you the words, he’d burned them into your soul, never letting go of your hand once as you both sang,

“I wanna soothe my heart, I wanna ease my mind, I wanna move my shoes and see what I can find…”

Elvis had found music, but you’d found him.

** **

Usually Elvis would sneak out from backstage and meet you after the show, but with bigger crowds and Elvis more recognizable than ever, you’d agreed it was best for you to simply come backstage from now on. Everyone who worked with Elvis knew you- even the band members affectionately called you Mrs Presley.

Which made it surprising when the bouncers- rare members of the team who weren’t Elvis’ direct friends or family -cut you off.

“Backstage is for band members only.”

“What? Tommy, come on.” You put your hands on your hips, frowning up at the tall man. “You know me.”

“Sorry ma’am, Colonel’s orders.”

“Excuse me?” You caught eyes with Bill, passing behind Tommy. “Hey, Bill!”

“Hey, that's ol’ Mrs Presley!” Bill greeted you with a smile. “C’mon boys, let her through.”

“Backstage is for band members only.” The other bouncer, Tex, repeated. “Sorry Bill.”

You looked at Bill for help, but he was frowning at the other men. “Well, I’m a band member, and she’s with us. Let her through.”

“Can’t. Colonel’s say-so.” Tommy said expressionlessly. “Real sorry, Bill.”

“You’re gonna be.” Bill looked at you. “Wait here, it’s gonna be alright.”

The second Bill was out of earshot, the bouncers focused their attention on you. It was the first time all tour you’d felt… afraid. It was a hot July night and you’d left your cardigan at home. Suddenly your shoulders felt too bare as they looked you up and down, disgust slowly filtering onto their faces.

“Just because you’re fucking the boss doesn’t mean you can come back here.” Tommy growled, while Tex stepped forward to shove you further back.

“He'll be done with you soon enough. Girls like you get boring after a while.”

You bit your lip, fighting back tears, but you instinctively pushed back against the larger man. Tex’s face twisted in rage as he grabbed your arms with bruising strength.

“Don’t think you can get away with that, just because you’re sleeping with Presley.”

He shoved you back so hard you hit the wall. You cried out in shock and pain as your head hit the wall and the world turned blurry.

“What the fuck is going on here?” A low voice growled from behind the bouncers. Elvis, still in his pink and black stage suit.

Bill was with him, but when he saw the scene, he took a step back from the singer as if he’d explode. If it were possible, Elvis would be ticking like a bomb ready to blow.

“Elvis-” Tommy started, but Elvis silenced him with one hand. His dark blue eyes fixed on Tex, who was still in front of you, so uncomfortably close you could smell the sweat under his suit. It made you nauseous.

You were still dazed from your head hitting the wall, unable to speak as Elvis stalked forward. For every step forward Elvis took, Tex took a step back.

“I’m gonna give you one chance to explain what you were doing, touching my girl like that.” Elvis snarled. “And that’s one more chance than you deserve, so be quick.”

“W-well, boss-” Tex suddenly didn’t seem so big, hands at his sides, staring at his shoes. He looked more like a child being scolded. “We didn’t mean to-”

“Then what did you mean to do?” Elvis snapped. He was between you and Tex now, hand grasping yours with a reassuring squeeze. "Cause it looked to me like you were throwing my girl around like a rag doll, which she ain't."

“Listen, we-” Tommy stepped forward, but Elvis interrupted.

“No, you both listen. You’re fired. If I see either of you near my show or my pretty girl again, I’ll do more than just fire you. Got it?”

He didn’t wait for their response, wrapping an arm around you and guiding you backstage to his dressing room. The pain didn’t fully set in until he sat you in his chair. You winced.

Elvis felt at the lump on the back of your head. No skin was broken, but it still throbbed. Colorful bruises were already beginning to form on your arms where Tex had all-but thrown you backwards.

“Oh, no. No, no, no." Elvis murmured when he saw the marks. He was on his knees, looking up at you with a pained expression. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

He kissed every bruise on your skin so softly you barely felt the heat of his lips. All the while he murmured comforting words,

“I ain’t ever gonna let this happen to you again. Never gonna let anything like this happen again. I promise.”

You were silent, replaying Tommy and Tex's words over in your head. They had no idea what they were talking about, but the words still left you with a lingering nausea, far worse than any of the bruising on your body.

“How’s my girl doing?”

“I’m okay.” Your voice was meek, even to your own ears.

"Hey, pretty girl," Elvis frowned, cupping your chin, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You can tell me.”

And you did. As the tears finally spilled over your eyes, you told Elvis the worst of what the bouncers said. Tension flooded into his shoulders as you repeated their words.

Just because you’re fucking the boss doesn’t mean you can come back here.

“Those sons of-” Elvis caught himself, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, baby. They ain’t ever gonna work again, I'll make sure of it.”

He kissed the back of one hand, then the other. Elvis’ eyeliner was messy after a night of performing, sweat still glazing his skin. He looked… tired. You’d never seen Elvis tired before, and the sight scared you more than anything. For the first time in twenty years of knowing him, he looked less than invincible.

You wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaning down to kiss him.

“I’ll be fine, really.” You smiled weakly. “You didn’t have to fire them.”

“If I ever had to see ‘em again I’d do worse than that, baby.” He pulled you in close to kiss your forehead, then your lips. “I’m gonna talk to the Colonel. Make sure he files a police report and hires real security for our next show.”

You bit your lip, remembering their words. Colonel’s orders. “Elvis…”

Your lip wobbled. Elvis trusted nobody in the world more than the Colonel, aside from his mother. Would he believe you?

Warm hands rubbed up and down your shoulders. “Hey, I’m right here.”

“The Colonel made them do it, they said he said not to let me through.” You blurted out, clamping a hand over your mouth, tears rising to your eyes again. Elvis’ hands froze on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

Elvis stood up. Through your tears, you could see the fire in his eyes. You thought he was angry before? Well, he was furious now. Hands bunched to fists at his sides, he didn't move for a long moment, just stared. Then he left the room without a word.

It was common knowledge you didn’t get along with the Colonel. Elvis considered him a godsend, the man who launched his entire career. You considered him a toad, especially after one conversation you’d overheard in Graceland:

“If the fans know about her, they won’t follow you.”

Elvis thought you’d gone up to bed, but you had lingered to grab a glass of water… and listen to the men talking business. The thought had never crossed your mind before that you were part of that business.

“Little girlfriends, they don’t last. But your music? My dear boy, that is immortal- if you play your cards right.”

Elvis laughed, and your blood froze. Then the laughter stopped abruptly.

“You’re serious? What’re you talking about, Colonel?” Your boyfriend’s voice was light and playful, but there was an edge to it. Something underneath you’d never heard before. “I sing from the heart, and she is my heart. Without her, there’s no music.”

“My boy-”

“Understand me?”

“But-”

“Do you understand me?” The playfulness dropped from his voice. Elvis was easily persuaded to go along with just about anything the Colonel dreamed up (“His plans got us this far, haven’t they?”) but from that night one thing was clear: your relationship was not up for negotiation.

Until tonight.

You stayed there for a while, emptiness settling in your stomach. Elvis didn’t believe you. Why would he? The Colonel had got him this far. Got him a tour in all fifty states. Made him enough money to buy Graceland and as many Cadillacs as he could imagine. You were just a girl from Tupelo, he could find another.

Still, you waited, hoped he’d come back. You could apologize, say you must’ve misunderstood, say anything to get him back. A difficult life with Elvis and the Colonel was better than an empty life without the man you loved.

Minutes turned to a full hour, so you left, dragging your feet towards the exit, hoping your motel room would still be available to you. Elvis wouldn’t leave you in the middle of America, miles from home with no way back, would he?

Distant shouting caught your attention. You recognized Elvis’ voice immediately and followed down the corridor to a slightly-open door that simply said ‘Colonel’.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Elvis shouted so loud it made you jump, even as you paused outside the door to listen. “Who’re you gonna ban next, my mama?”

“Your mother is not the problem, my boy-” The Colonel sounded flustered, barely himself.

“And neither is she!” Elvis snarled, slamming something down inside the room. “Goddammit. I’ve told you before, I sing from the heart. You want to stop that?"

Silence. Had the Colonel ever been lost for words before?

Elvis continued, "Fine, we can break all our promises. How about this? I don’t see her backstage before and after every performance, I don’t sing. Or-" Elvis snapped his fingers, "Better idea, we go public. Let's see how many fans actually follow me for my music. I don't care about the rest of it."

“Elvis-”

“Those are your options. I’ll give you one more chance, but that’s it. And if I ever, ever find out you pulled this horseshit again, you're done."

The Colonel was silent for a while, but perhaps he muttered something quietly, or simply nodded, because the next thing you knew, Elvis was coming out of the room, fists still clenched and face flushed with anger.

All of that melted away when he saw you.

“Baby,” He murmured, taking your hand in his. “What’re you doing out here?”

"I- I thought-" Your body shook, and Elvis took the black jacket from his shoulders to drape it across yours. He led you away from the Colonel's door, back to the privacy of his dressing room.

"You don't have to throw your life away because of me." You finally said.

Elvis smiled, wiping the tears from your cheeks with both hands. "Sweet girl."

Without warning he picked you up and sat back in his chair, holding you on his lap while he peppered your face with kisses.

"A life without you? That's not one I want to be living." He pressed your foreheads together and let out a sigh. "But this right here, you and me? That's what's right. And I will protect that- protect you, Always."

#elvis x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fanfic #elvis imagine #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis x y/n #hurt/comfort #Protective elvis #elvis fanfic

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

Text

Pink Scarf - PART 16 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

TW: Rough SEXXX. Restraints. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Woo, boy, y'all. Get yourselves ready, cuz the snowball is rollin' and the shit storm is comin'. This part is a little bit of everything--a little sweet, a little salty, a little smutty. It's what y'all deserve!

For the flashback, I had E's 1960 It Feels So Right playing in my head on repeat, so if you are one who likes music to set the mood, then you might give it a listen before/during/after you read that part!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)

Graceland, Christmas 1960

The mansion is finally quiet, or at least you’ve managed to find a quiet part of it in the midst of all the holiday revelry. Elvis loves Christmas, and this is his first one home in two years. And the first one without Gladys.

You had thought that maybe his grief would make the holiday a more solemn affair, but he’s gone in the opposite direction. It’s as though his loss has fueled him to make Christmas as joyful as humanly possible. Even though he’s been away filming for most of the month, he still directed the mansion should be decked out in all the Christmas finery for his return. And so it is.

You wish you were more in the spirit to enjoy it. Usually, you would be—Christmas is one of your favorite times of the year—but this year it sits heavy for you. Heavy because if all had gone well, you’d be sharing it with your newborn baby.

The thought brings you to tears again.

You’ve been hiding your grief as much as possible, sliding on a quaint smile, singing carols, and making cookies with the rest of them, but in these solitary moments, you grieve. You cannot help it. You know it’s futile and silly. How can you grieve someone who barely even existed, someone who was never born? And yet, here you are, alone, sitting in a quiet corner of the house at the piano, a couple of glasses too many of champagne in, being sad over what could have been.

So you begin to play. You know practically every carol and hymn by heart, so you just close your eyes and let the music take you away. It doesn’t erase your grief, but it does help you let it out in some way. You barely notice the tears rolling down your cheeks as you play Away In A Manger and What Child Is This?. You let the dramatic chords of O Holy Night linger in the air at the push of the pedals.

And after a bit of playing, that image of a baby in your arms feels fuzzy and faraway. Or maybe that’s the champagne. Maybe it’s both.

The air shifts. You notice it but play on anyway. You’re not sure how, but you are able to sense him, his presence, his essence, as it pushes in around you. But he remains quiet, and your eyes remain closed as your hands continue to fly over the keys.

Elvis does not interrupt, he only watches. You’re not sure why. You feel as though he barely speaks to you anymore. Yes, he is away and busy and all the usual excuses. But he used to seek you out when he returned. He’d bring you silly little trinkets and sing to you and tell you stupid, off-color jokes.

Now, since that horrible day in March, it’s as though an invisible wall has come between you two, and you don’t understand why. It’s nothing overt—he treats you kindly in the group and doesn’t outwardly ignore you. But something significant has changed, you swear it. Perhaps it is your ultimate failure as a woman that has turned him away. Or maybe with the explosion of his stardom since returning from Germany, he just doesn’t have time for you anymore. Maybe it has nothing to do with you at all; maybe he’s just a different man now.

Your tears of grief now include the loss of him, too. Losing your friend is heartbreaking in its own right, much less coupled with the loss of your child, of your fertility. It doesn’t help that Jack has been gone with Elvis on his travels and feels distant, too. You’d initially thought the space would be good for you two, but instead you just feel achingly lonely.

God, you wish you’d never been pregnant at all, as all it seemed to bring you is heartache.

You stop playing and open your eyes. The room is dim, lit only by one of the many Christmas trees in the house, but when you turn towards the door, Elvis is still there, his blue eyes shining with emotion as he leans in the doorway. The man looks ready to weep, which takes you by surprise, as he’s only shown enthusiasm and excitement since being home. You recognize the look though: it’s grief and melancholy, similar to your own.

Then Elvis looks at you unabashedly for a moment, almost like he is really, truly seeing you for the first time in months. The air sits heavy and silent. You don’t bother wiping the tears off your cheeks, though your heart races a bit. Must be the champagne, you think. It certainly isn’t the way he is looking at you now, how you are being laid bare and vulnerable by his intense gaze.

Something builds between you, though you are not exactly sure what, and he suddenly straightens and crosses the room to you. He towers over you now at the end of the piano bench and an overwhelming need to be near him comes over you. It’s as though you are both magnetized to each other, so when he holds out his hand, you cannot help but take it. The warmth of his hand surrounds yours as he pulls you up and into his waiting arms.

You fold into him, your arms tucked into your chest and your head buried into his collarbone as he wraps his arms around you. His spicy, distinct scent surrounds you and his warmth engulfs you and you cannot help the sob that escapes you at the comfort of it.

Elvis holds you close and lets you cry, and you feel his chest shudder and his breath hitch as though he is as emotional as you are. His mother, you think; he’s been hiding his grief as you’ve been hiding yours. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your temple as they run down his face and onto yours, and this prompts you to unfold your arms and wrap them around his torso, comforting him as he is comforting you.

He sways you, moving to the unheard music you assume is always playing in his mind, and pressed against him like this, you can feel the quick and steady beat of his heart pounding in his chest. You don’t remember the last time you were this close to him. He feels bigger, broader than the boy who went to Germany, but is no less Elvis. His sensitive spirit is the same after all.

You are not sure how long you sway there, crying in each other’s arms at your respective losses. But you know it’s more than just that. You know because as your tears start to ebb and you move back the slightest bit, he grabs your hand and pulls you in close, unwilling to part with you. He dances with you now, slowly pulling you back into his silent rhythm.

And you let him. You let his hand clasp yours and he draws it over his heart, holding it there. His heart beats quicker, you think. It’s too intimate now, the way his warm, damp cheek presses to yours, the saltiness of your tears mixing and binding your grief together. The air shifts again, still heavy and thick, but with a million unsaid words hanging there in the silence.

Your heart skips, flutters, and your breath catches. You’re not exactly sure what is happening. But you still let him hold you and sway you in slow circles. His hand splays hot on your lower back, burning through you, setting your body aflame in a way you don’t understand.

But you are a few glasses in and on a roller coaster of emotion and right now the feel of his strong, lean body pressed against yours makes you feel alive in a certain kind of way. You’ve been lonely and you’ve missed him more than you thought. It’s almost as if this is a silent plea for forgiveness from him.

Yes, that’s all it is.

You feel hyperaware of him and his closeness, so when Elvis nuzzles his head against the side of yours, you feel breathless. Your mouth pops open with a puff which, considering his proximity, he must feel, but he does not stop, and you cannot help the way you return the gesture in kind.

His breath is warm in your ear, and you can feel the softness of his lips brush against it, sending a decidedly inappropriate cascade of shivers dancing through you.

Oh, god.

Involuntarily, your hand contracts in his, your nails scraping lightly at his button-down shirt. Elvis presses your palm down onto his heart in response. You feel out of control, completely at his mercy, knowing this is too much, too close, too intimate but you can’t seem to stop, intoxicated by his strength, his affection, his essence.

Elvis’ still-damp cheek lingers against your own, and he presses his forehead gently to yours with a soft sigh. Then he pulls back slowly, just far enough to look at you, and you feel knocked over by his pure beauty. Honestly, you feel absolutely heady as you threaten to tip over and lose yourself in those churning, deep blue eyes of his. And, boy, they are churning, with things you can’t quite grasp. You watch as they search your face, his impossibly long lashes punctuating their every slow move. Holding your breath, your heart speeds up ever faster, and you wonder what it is he seeks in you.

Your sadness and grief feel far away now as he plunders your soul, his gaze so alluring that you cannot even begin to piece through what is going on in any sort of logical way. You don’t understand any of it. All you know is you want more, and that feels forbidden in every way.

As if reading your thoughts somehow, his lips part. His eyes flutter down your face and land at your mouth. A shock runs through you as you think Elvis just might kiss you, and that terrifies you, not just because it would be crossing a line but because in this moment you want him to.

You want to feel his lips soft and sweet against you, then crushing into you. You want his body passionately pressed into yours as you cling to each other in the sparkling light of the Christmas tree. You want his large hands roaming your curves. You want to feel the strands of his dark hair between your fingers as you tug him closer. You want him to make you forget everything but the taste and feel of him.

These wants flash through you in an instant, shocking your system because he is so close that you almost can taste him and panic shoots through you. Never have you let your thoughts truly drift to that place with him, and opening that door feels very dangerous. Suddenly, with a wave of absolute certainty, an intuition you cannot explain at all exclaims that Elvis wants you more than anything in this world.

And that makes you gasp and pull away.

That cannot possibly be true. Nothing about the way he’s acted this past year supports that but something inside you screams that it’s real. It makes no sense. None of it makes any sense.

Elvis blinks and shakes his head as though snapping himself out of a daze. His hand falls from your waist, the spell broken. The soulful look in his eyes flashes with what almost seems like hurt, then apology, then regret. Without a single word, he turns and leaves.

Your heart plummets for reasons you don’t understand.

You must be confused. You are drunk. You are emotional. You couldn’t possibly have read the situation correctly. And yet the feelings awakened in your body surprise you and the look in his eyes haunts you as you sink back onto the piano bench, left alone in the silence.

Your eyes pop open at the memory. You had been very drunk that night and hadn’t remembered that moment until this very minute, yet another hidden facet of your long and suddenly complex relationship with your friend making itself known. Elvis had continued to keep his distance from you after that Christmas and had never even alluded to such an intimate moment happening, so you’d had no reason to think anything strange had happened at all. In hindsight, it seems awfully significant and feels like yet another thing he’s keeping from you.

Running it through your mind again, you swear he’d almost kissed you that night or at least had wanted to, which is shocking to you because 1960 was a long time ago. Still more shocking was that certainty you’d had about him wanting you more than anything, which couldn’t possibly be true.

Could it?

You shake off the thought. Emotions were high for both of you that night, and he obviously had thought better of it, but still…that prickle at the back of your mind keeps gnawing at you, those pieces of the puzzle attempting to slot into place. Maybe if you weren’t so damn tired and emotionally spent, you’d be able to figure out what your mind is trying to tell you. Maybe if your body wasn’t still aching with the memory of losing your child and almost dying, you’d be able to think clearly.

And your conversation with Sandy also sits uneasily in your mind. Running away ain’t gonna solve anything, her voice echoes in your head. You wish you had the strength she hoped you did, the strength to tell Jack to fuck off, to tell Elvis how you really feel, but it all feels so overwhelmingly insurmountable that you can barely even entertain the thought.

Heart pounding and wheels turning, you know sleep is out of the question and sit up in the bed. You get up and busy yourself instead. You feel as though you are racing the clock. It doesn’t take long to pack your bag, and while you are not frantic, you are determined. Mentally, you are ready to go. You have to go.

Unfortunately, things are not working out as you hoped they would. When the concierge calls you back with your fight arrangements, he informs you that there are no flights out of Vegas until 7:30am tomorrow morning. It being a Sunday night and with such short notice, there were no seats headed back east to be had. You thank him and reply that of course the morning flight would be acceptable before you set the receiver back on the hook and let out an aggravated scream.

You need out now. You are half inclined to rent a car and drive back to Memphis, but you know that is a terrible idea for a variety of reasons, namely being that you had no idea how to get to Memphis from here and being alone on the road for so long with no preparation sounded dangerous.

Fine, you think, I can make it through the night. I should tell Elvis in person anyway.

The thought makes your stomach churn because you know he will not be happy with this development. You’d rather not see the look on his face, but you also know it is the right thing to do. You just need to steel yourself to see your decision through and not be swayed by his charms.

Easier said than done.

And it doesn’t help that you are running on fumes and adrenaline. With everything that happened last night, the only sleep you’ve had was on the roof and that was short-lived and filled with nightmares. You took a shower after getting back to the room, but your mind is spinning too much to sleep, plagued with returning memories and creeping doubt.

You decide to get ready for the show as originally planned. It’ll be easier to gain access to Elvis between shows to talk if you do so. You dress accordingly, carefully putting on your makeup and doing your hair up nicely to give yourself as much confidence as possible. After repacking your toiletries, you grab your clutch and see the silky pink scarf folded neatly inside.

It takes only a moment for you to decide to put it around your neck. It’ll guarantee that Elvis will make time to see you, and you try not to shiver at the fact that the last time you wore this scarf, it led to a decidedly different outcome than it will tonight. The thought sends both warmth to your core and dread into your heart. You don’t want to leave him.

But I have to.

You shift your thoughts instead to Red, wondering and fearing whatever he might have planned. You don’t know if he is planning to sit on the information he gleaned from your leaving Elvis’ suite this morning, or if he is looking to cause mayhem immediately, though considering Jack has not burst in angrily, you don’t think anything has been said yet.

Either way, you have to warn E, and you have to get the hell out before the shit hits the fan.

The afternoon quickly turns to evening, and you pump yourself up on the way downstairs, despite the nausea in your stomach, the exhaustion in your body, and the ache in your heart. Now that you are somewhat a part of the show, it is easy to get backstage, and while you’re not sure how you are going to be able to wait the few hours the show will take, you continually remind yourself that this is what you must do. You have no choice.

But I do, I do have a choice, a pesky little voice chimes in. Stay.

Shut up.

By the time Elvis makes his way backstage, you feel like you’re about to jump out of your skin. The way his bright eyes light up when he sees you and then how they flash heat when he sees the pink silk knotted around your neck fills you with both desire and anxiety. Being near him weakens your resolve because his charismatic energy rolls over you even from this distance, and he just looks so damn good in that white suit of his, but you knew that this would test you. You force what you hope is a normal a smile, but you see a look of confusion flash over his pretty face before his usual pre-show nerves take over. But he does not come over to you, for which you are grateful.

The show begins with the usual fanfare, and you are surprised that even with everything going on in your head (or perhaps because of it), you still get swept up in the music, still sing the parts quietly that you have so diligently practiced. Regret hits you from another angle, one you did not anticipate. In leaving Vegas, you’ll also be leaving this—the show, the music.

Doubt creeps in in earnest throughout the show, putting your nerves even more on edge. You don’t really want to leave this opportunity, but the problem is you don’t think you have the fortitude to stay and to be able to resist Elvis.

The curtain closes and Elvis is surrounded, soaked with sweat, riding that post-show high that makes him nearly glow from the inside out. He wipes his face with the towel someone has draped over him, and you watch as he pulls Jerry aside with a glint in his eye, presumably to arrange your meet with him. But Jerry leans back and whispers something into E’s ear and that handsome face clouds with dark emotion. Then Elvis finds you past the crowd and his eyes lock on and you know. You know he knows by the hurt and angry look in his piercing blue eyes.

Sandy.

Goddammit.

As Elvis stalks over to you, pushing through musicians and instruments, it’s evident that Sandy has betrayed you. She told Jerry. And whether she meant for him to tell Elvis, you do not know, but your heart speeds up as Elvis crosses the backstage area in long, quick strides, with a wounded and feral look in his eyes that frightens you. It is not at all the same as the jealousy from the night prior; no, this is damage done on another scale.

You cannot help but back up as he approaches, nearly falling back over your chair, but he is on you in an instant, grabbing your arm firmly with one hand and your waist with the other, seemingly uncaring of the confused looks of his entourage that has been left behind so uncharacteristically. Luckily, Jack is nowhere to been seen, but you catch Red’s smirk before Elvis manhandles you into the hallway.

He doesn’t speak, not yet, though you see his brewing temper play over his face. Your heart drops because it is so obvious how you’ve truly hurt him, and he practically carries you back to the dressing room so quickly that you barely have time to register what that means. Once inside, he releases you and you tumble forward before he slams the door with too much force and flicks the lock.

As you straighten, you attempt to brace yourself for what you think you know is coming. Your nerves are on pins and needles, and you can’t help the lightheaded feeling that comes over you as you watch him fume. His chest heaves with both the exertion from his performance and his building fury, which makes for a dangerous combination.

You realize too late that perhaps you didn’t think this through.

“Is it true?” Elvis growls, rounding on you. “Are you trying to leave?” The pain is palpable in his stormy eyes and is layered with indignation.

The words catch in your throat. You finally force yourself to nod, attempting to find your voice in the meantime.

“What the fuck, y/n? What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” his voice raises, as he paces the room like a caged animal. His eyes are icy now, glaring at you in such a way that you feel it to your toes. His white suit clings to him with the moisture of his sweat, which gleams off his tan skin, distracting you.

You finally find your voice. “I’m leaving, Elvis. For my sake and for yours,” you breathe out. Your heart threatens to shatter at the words.

“The fuck you are,” he flips back at you.

“Excuse me?” you huff.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, honey,” he points at you sternly.

“That’s not up to you,” you sputter, blinking rapidly.

“The hell it ain’t,” he glares.

Elvis’ eyes flash and he advances towards you. Your heart thunders in your ears and you counter backwards until he has your back against the wall. He grabs your chin with his hand, his rings cutting into you.

“I thought I fucked some sense into you last night, but it seems I fucked it out of you instead,” he purrs dark and low, but it is laced with threat.

You hold back a groan at his words. The sound of his voice and the look on his gorgeous face as he rakes his eyes over you sends both dread and heat through you all at once. You should have known he’d put up a fight. This is why you’d wanted to leave right away. Resisting him feels insane and futile.

“E, Red knows. He caught me coming out of your room this morning, and I just know he’s gonna make trouble,” you ramble out, trying to skirt around him. He boxes you in with his arms.

“Fuck Red. I’ll take care of him,” Elvis spits, eyes flashing but barely giving it a second thought because his sole focus is you. Then you see him eyeing his scarf around your neck. Wordlessly, slowly, he unties it, his calloused fingers brushing the skin of your neck and making you shiver. “Now tell me why you’re really leavin’, honey,” he commands, but the lilt in pitch betrays his sensitivity to those who know him well enough. And you do.

Oh, god, the way his smokey eyes bore into you, intoxicate you, has you frozen and your mouth dry. All the words you prepared to say are gone in an instant. You can’t tell him everything (you can’t), but his hurt and his need to dominate you because of it drives his actions, and you know he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

“Hmm,” he shakes his head, a darkness overcoming him. “Guess I gotta find another way to get it out of you. Give me your hands,” he orders. You are caught in his gaze and feel powerless to deny him. Begrudgingly, you obey, holding out your hands.

You watch as he ties one end of the silky scarf to your left wrist. It’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Your brow furrows in confusion as he pulls your arms up, and it is then that you notice the bar, which must be used as a clothing rack, attached to the wall above your head.

Your eyes widen and your heart thunders in your chest. “Elvis, what’re you doing?” you squeak out as he wraps the scarf over the bar and attaches it tightly to your other wrist. Your arms are loose and your feet remain planted on the floor, as the bar is not that high up, but you are effectively trapped.

“Well, honey, you keep tryin’ to run away from me and I need answers,” he glowers, amusement playing under his anger.

“Goddammit, this isn’t funny, let me go!” you say shrilly, yanking your arms but only succeeding in making the scarf tighter around your wrists.

“No, you’re right, it ain’t funny at all. Were you just gonna steal away in the dead of night without talkin’ to me?” he asks, the hurt back in his voice.

“No, I…no, that’s not what I wanted…” But it is almost what you did, and he seems to know it.

His eyes flash with realization at your unspoken words, then narrow as he moves closer. You look away, shamed. He grabs your chin again, his rings cold against your skin, and forces you to look at him.

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.” He says it like a pleading promise and a stark demand all at once.

Oh, Jesus, it makes you ache for him in every way. You can feel your resolve crumbling around you, all your reasons for leaving melting into a puddle at your feet.

“We can’t Elvis. We can’t keep doing this. I’m losing my mind,” you say but Elvis has his head buried in your neck now, his lips and tongue dragging across your skin and setting your entire body aflame. Resisting him is like resisting gravity—an impossible feat.

“Why would you do this to me, lil’ mama?” he whispers in your ear, his hand brushing away your hair so his breath tickles against you. The sensation immediately has your body at attention, like a switch has been flipped. Your nerves tingle, your nipples stand at attention with just the temptation of that raspy baritone.

Despite yourself, despite the angel on your shoulder screaming at you, once again, that this is a bad idea, your mouth pops open with a sigh. His other hand cups your cheek as his lips travel over your face, so close that those long, dark lashes brush against you in their wake. This sends another thrill of sensation through you.

It’s agonizing that you can’t touch him, which you know is exactly the point.

Elvis presses you against the wall, and his thumb is dragging slowly over your bottom lip. It takes everything you have to not disintegrate right there and then. The way he makes you feel—it’s like you have no sense of reality when around him like this. He is your drug of choice. And you keep coming back to him again and again.

“Tell me why you don’t want me,” he asks in a boyish whisper, his bedroom eyes deadly serious, filled with anger and hurt and need and lust. All for you. Only Elvis could look so entirely innocent and completely sinful all at once.

His words cut you, as you think he intended. You wish you could make him understand, but your breathing is fast, too fast. You are dizzy from the scent of him, all sweat and musk. He’s dripping with it. Your eyes roll back.

“Dammit, E, of course I want you,” you breathe, “but when we get caught, which we are seconds away from, I’m the one who’s life blows up. I’m the one who’ll have to face the consequences. It all comes back on me, and…I don’t have anything without Jack.” You can’t let yourself forget it.

The way Elvis looks at you now is fierce. He grabs both of your cheeks roughly, his hands like fire against them.

“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”

The sentiment hits you sideways, flooring you. He’s staring at you so intensely you feel completely gone, weak. There is nothing else but him.

“Let me take care of you,” he breathes seductively, nuzzling your nose. “Let me be your everything.”

Oh, sweet lord…

“Elvis…” His name escapes you like a hushed prayer. You are defenseless against him, your heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird, stealing your breath away completely.

The temptation of what he is saying is so strong that you want to give in to him immediately. It’s almost everything you want to hear, which is the problem. You think he’ll say anything to get what he wants. You love him, but you know he’s a master at manipulation—it’s how he’s so damn good at his craft. It’s how he so effectively hypnotizes the masses. You think half the time he doesn’t even realize what’s he’s doing, but knowing him as you do, you know he is too shrewd for ignorance.

But part of you refuses to believe him, what he’s saying, even now. Part of you is still reeling from the pain and the fear of your recently uncovered memories. And the fact is, he is still hiding things from you, and you are still married to Jack.

Elvis bows his head, his soft lips now mere millimeters from yours, his hot breath mingling with the heat of your own. But he does not close the gap. He’s waiting, waiting for you to decide. He’s impatient, nearly shaking with anticipation.

You came here to end it, you did (didn’t I?), but he’s like the sun, pulling you into his orbit. Desperate, you find your voice, doing your best to be strong.

“Elvis, I am still married. You know as well as I do how complicated it is with Jack, and he’s not going to take kindly to this when he finds out. And he will. We both know he will. He’s your friend. You can’t have it both ways, and neither can I. But I can’t be near you without wanting you, so something’s gotta give. That’s why I have to go. That, and all the secrets, the lies…It’s tearing me apart inside,” you plead with him. And I know you’re keeping something from me, but those words don’t make it out of your mouth.

His brow furrows and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head. Then something significant shifts, that dark look clouding his eyes once more.

“Jack ain’t shit. Fuck him. And, baby, I’ll tear your marriage to shreds and throw it in the trash, just like that,” Elvis snarls, snapping his fingers in your face, his endless eyes burning into yours. His vehemence has you shaking, your eyes going big. “I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to pay off. I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

Holy shit.

A shocked beat, your breath held in a pause before it quickens again. Elvis is choosing you over Jack. Elvis wants you to end your marriage for him (or more accurately, wants to end it for you). This means that he is much more serious about this, about you, than you thought. Your heart plummets into your stomach and warmth blossoms over your body. You are both elated and terrified by what he is asking of you. All words escape you.

“Still need a little more convincing, huh?” His lip curls into a smirk, sending a coil of desire into your belly. Pushing you up against the wall, he grinds his hips into you, your arms straining against their bonds. You know now that this is his way, his way of proving to you the truth of his words. A whimper escapes your lips, causing him to grin even more. He has you right where he wants you, which is infuriating and exhilarating.

Elvis gets close, his full lips so tantalizingly near that you can almost taste their pillowy sweetness, but he still does not kiss you, only tempts you as his breath blends with yours. As much as you want to, you do not submit, you do not close the gap, your stubbornness and lingering doubt dampening your near-consuming desire.

All your churning emotions of the past few days keep you silent. Confusion, fear, anger, shock, love—all of it only fuels your passion for him, a love so consuming it eats you alive. But you also don’t want him to have the satisfaction of you giving into him. He’s right: he does usually get what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you have to make it easy on him.

Elvis watches your reaction carefully as he yanks your dress up over your hips. Then he groans, a deep, carnal sound as he grinds into you once more, his arousal evident and the metal of his ornate belt biting against your pelvis. You bite your lip to keep from making the noises that threaten to escape you, but your breathing is starting to become even more labored. There is an element of calculated control in his flaming eyes, combined with power and need. He doesn’t let you look away.

Elvis grabs the back of one of your thighs, pulling it up to his hip, running his hand over your bare flesh from your knee up to your panties, his fingers dancing just under the elastic. You hold back the hiss that wants to escape you. God, you want to touch him, to claw at his bare chest, but the scarf holds you fast and you grip its strong silk for dear life.

When he lets go just long enough to pull the zipper of his fly, pulling out his cock, your eyes widen, then fall closed. You feel as he tugs your underwear to the side, his fingers swiping through your folds. You bite your lip at the feel of his fingers prodding at you so roughly. But with your churning emotions desperately trying to keep your desire at bay, you are not nearly wet enough to take him yet.

“Look at me,” he demands, and you do. You are powerless not to.

Reaching his hand up, he looks you right in the eye as he spits in it, then reaches down to cover his cock, lubricating it fully. You gulp. A shiver of anticipation races down your spine. Taking a long moment to gather more saliva, he spits in his hand again before snaking it between your thighs to smear your pussy with it, watching your reaction carefully. You can’t help but moan at the sensation of the warm slick.

True to his word, nothing stops him from taking what he wants as he brusquely lifts your legs around his waist and enters you with a quick, hard thrust and a deep grunt.

You gasp loudly at how Elvis fills you so completely, both with surprise and with pain of the pleasurable sort. You are so tight, too tight, and while your arousal pools, it has not yet coated your walls, making his saliva the only lubrication to ease the friction. You claw at the silk scarf, trying to push back against the wall in retreat, but he chases you, pausing for only a moment as you attempt to adjust to him. He starts rocking into you, but his thrusts are not gentle—they are powerful, claiming. You continue to hold back the noises that want to escape your mouth, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pleasure.

“Why ya gotta be so fuckin’ stubborn, baby? You really makin’ me take you this damn hard to remind ya just who ya belong to?” he growls seductively into your ear as he drives into you harder. Your head falls back onto the wall and your eyes flutter. This shouldn’t be so satisfying, but you can’t deny how it makes you feel, how he makes you feel. Your arousal pools around him at his words, at his audacity, and it gives you away as he slides more easily in and out of you. Then that damn lip of his dares to curl up again into a knowing smile.

His baritone rumbles in your ear as he fucks you more vigorously, each thrust punctuating his words, as if driving them deeply into your body and mind. “I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight after this little stunt of yours, honey, not for one damn minute. In fact,” he chuckles darkly, “you’re going on stage with me for the rest of my shows, starting tonight. Your debut performance.”

You can’t hold back your choked gasp at that.

“You’re all mine now.” Elvis’ hand comes up and wraps around your throat, just tight enough to let you know he means it. “Now, be a good girl and say it for me.”

Your brain fights against him—possession is not love! Sex is not love! it screams at you—and you don’t want to give him this, but you know the truth of it: you are his. You’ve been his for a while now. And you relish in it. You want so desperately for it to be more than that, but you are too weary of denying yourself of the obvious.

“I’m…y-yours,” you gasp out. He fucks it out of you.

The corner of his mouth briefly lifts in satisfaction before returning to his relentless railing of you and his ongoing, heated diatribe: “You’ll stay in my room, my bed, and we’ll fuck whenever we damn please, honey. I don’t care who fuckin’ knows. Let Jack try and come for you…see what happens,” he threatens, grunting as his thrusts become more erratic.

You don’t even recognize the moan that comes from you at that. The fact that he will take Jack head on for you sends an inexplicable rush through your system. The coil in your belly tightens rapidly now, but Elvis is too far ahead of you, too consumed with his lust and his need to claim you as his own.

“Tell me you’ll stay,” he says in your ear. It comes out more needy, breathless, pleading, than you think he intended, which tugs at your heart, telling you what you need to know, at least for now.

You have no choice, not anymore. Neither your heart nor Elvis’ will allow it.

“I’ll stay,” you whisper, finally conceding.

“There’s my girl,” he groans, then plunges in so deep and fast that the wind is knocked out of you. You both cry out as he pulses again and again, filling and coating you with his need, his teeth digging into your shoulder as he climaxes.

You both gasp for breath, him from his release, you from the shock of his words as they settle within you. After a moment of recovery, he unceremoniously pulls out of you, sets you gently back on the ground, and unties your hands. Your legs feel wobbly and your hands tingle with a burning sensation, rubbed a little raw at the wrists. Elvis kisses each wrist softly, making that unrelieved coil in your belly cinch even tighter as he wraps the scarf around your neck. You wince at the pins and needles in your arms as you shake them to regain circulation.

You wait to see what he has in store for you next, but he just looks a little jaded, uncharacteristically making no effort to alleviate your need. He turns and walks all the way back into the bathroom, and you follow silently.

You look at him questioningly in the mirror as he cleans off, that coil in your belly poised and ready, but unfed. He’s never left you unsatisfied before. But you also don’t want to push him right now. Things still feel too tenuous.

He finally acknowledges you in the mirror, looking over your mussed and flustered state and immediately gleaning the reason for your hovering. “Honey…I’ll deal with you later,” Elvis tuts in a reprimanding tone, his left eyebrow raising, his blues still chilly towards you.

He’s being petty, but you suppose you deserve that to an extent. You resist the urge to pout, instead choosing to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing against the sweaty heat of his back. You want him to forgive you, want to be in his warmth, want him to love you as you love him. But for now, you’ll accept the relief of not having to leave him.

Let me take care of you…Let me be your everything.

The memory of his words sends warmth radiating through your chest, even if he just said it to get you to stay. Even if he didn’t really mean it.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. And you are.

Elvis doesn’t move for a moment, just letting you cling to him. Then he turns, bringing you close, and he finally kisses you, his pliant lips pressing hard and fierce and wanting against yours.

“Don’t ever try to leave me like that again, baby,” he says, pulling away, looking deeply into your eyes. He is trying, you think, to be as possessive and demanding as before, but the edge of his anger has been tempered, quelled, and has turned into something more imploring. Then, with that quintessentially Elvispuppy-dog look on his face, he blinks slowly and quietly adds, “I need you,” as though just realizing it himself.

And, with that, you realize for the first time that despite all your doubts, despite what he is hiding from you, despite every obstacle that wants to pile against you, the shitstorm that is coming is still going to hit hard, but it will hit you two together.

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