#elvis x oc smut
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No Baby You Can't Lick it
Word Count: 2,522
Writers Note: Alright I'm tackling writing 70's E as a smut so don't judge me on this one
Warning: SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Pairing: OC x Elvis
Plot: With Elvis now in Vegas and Cecelia back from her world tour, she finds herself at The International Hotel being reminded of the powerhouse of love that is her husband Elvis Presley
Taglist: If you wanna be tagged let me know!
@darkmoviesquotespizza
@sissylittlefeather
@richardslady121
@thegettingbyp2
@presleyenterprise
@sissylittlefeather
@dkayfixates
@rjmartin11
The International Hotel January 7th, 1972
The cameras flashed through the lobby as a dark brunette-haired, sunglasses-wearing, fur coat-toating, tawny-skinned woman was at the front desk. That woman was,
"Mrs.Presley, We uh weren't excepting you!" The concierge looked in shock.
"Call me Cecelia, sweetheart." she laughed, taking off her shades as she looked at the young woman who was about to faint. Usually, her husband had this effect on women.
"W-Well... Can we do anything for you, get you a room..."
"I know Mr. Presley is on stage currently... but, uh, if you could relay a message to Jerry, tell 'em the Eagle has landed." taking the key from her, Cecelia winked as she continued to walk down towards the Elevator.
"Mrs. Presley!"
"Happy Birthday, Mrs. Presley!"
"Welcome back, Mrs. Presley!
"Geez, Midge. I didn't know people even remembered my birthday." she laughed as they walked through the casino. She was all smiles and waves like a pageant girl when really all she wanted to do was see her loving husband, who she hadn't been around for almost a year,
"Well, I don't even think you remembered your own birthday, let alone celebrated in how many years?"
"Not true! Last year Elvis. Bought me a rhinestone studded Gibson Guitar."
"And what did you send him."
"The key to a custom-made roadster... With EP on the seats."
"Well, when's the last time you two Celebrated your birthdays together..."
Cecelia took in a deep sigh as she thought about it. They'd been so busy with tours and conflicting schedules and even the kids who were now teenagers that the two hadn't even had time to their actual selves. The Elevator began to ding as they reached the 32nd floor of the hotel. Midge walked out first as Cecelia took out the hotel key. In a sense, the room felt like a home away from home.
The outside of the crowded concert hall was where the Memphis Mafia was trying their best to transport,
"Elvis, I love you!
"Love you too, honey." he winked,
Back to his hotel room, that was if he could stop kissing all the women who'd approached him, but then again, when you're the big star that is Elvis Presley, what's one more woman? Running down towards them was the concierge who had run to Jerry to tell him,
"The Eagle has landed."
Jerry looked at the young girl as he gave her a nod and a tap on Elvis's shoulder,
"We gotta go, E."
"Somethin wrong..." He looked up at Jerry, his hand searching for one of his many peacemakers.
"Nah, we just gotta go..."
The view of Vegas was beautiful from the window as Cecelia stood in front of it dressed in her long boudoir pink velvet robe. Champagne in her hand as she slowly breathed in and laughed, her eyes catching a pair of red panties that definitely didn't belong to her, just another chip in their marriage she'd manage to find. But it was no different than when she witnessed him date over 25 girls while his heart set on her. Lost in thought, Cecelia didn't even hear the key in the door turn,
"Be careful, E..."Jerry said,
"Why the hell do I have to be careful?" Elvis laughed a lit cigarillo in his mouth, "What's in there cept for what's usually in there." opening the door to his hotel room, he could smell the sweet scent of a familiar perfume. And the shift of a calming wind coming through.
"Elvis, is that you?"
"Cece..." his tired blue eyes now magnified back with energy,
"El..." she ran to him as she engulfed him with a tender kiss on his lips,
"I'll leave you two alone," Jerry smirked, closing the door behind him.
Cecelia had pulled away from him, taking the Cigarillo out of his mouth and setting it out. On the ashtray, "Seems somebody missed me." He whistled, looking at her frame in the robe,
"Seems someone couldn't wait for me..." her eyes gesturing to those panties again,
"Honey, no matter how many fans may have come in trying to steal away my appetite, you'll always be my main course," he whispered in her ear. Biting at the lobe as she shivered,
"You're lucky it's your birthday in half an hour..." she laughed,
"And you're lucky it's still yours." his lips were now on her neck, kissing and sucking all the way down to her shoulder, where her robe was now slithering down off her skin,
"Tell me, doll... you wearin anythin under that robe."
"Why don't you see for yourself." she laughed, running towards the bed as she untied her robe and ran,
"Damnit, Cece!" He laughed, chasing after his playful wife. Oh, the things he'd do for the woman before him. Cecelia was by the piano, now draped over it, as her eyes seduced him into coming over,
"Lord ol mighty..."
"Like what you see?" velvet curtains as her backdrop, she looked like something a man would only dream of finding in a bordello landscape.
"Mhmm..."
"You know... Pres, I'm liking a whole lot of what I'm seein..." Gesturing to him and his oh-so-tight blue owl jumpsuit. She wanted to pull him by the belt and get to working on him right now, but she wanted to make him work for it.
"You want me don'tcha honey,"
"I thought I was makin' my intentions clear," she smirked, beckoning him to come closer. Elvis began to walk closer towards her like a sailor drawn to a siren,
"Not clear enough, baby..."
"Do you want me to tell you what I want tonight..."
"Tell me, honey..."
"Well... I want you to make love to me like the beast I know you can be..." her arms around his waist as she heard the clinking of his belt hit the floor. His hands were already caressing her plump breasts.
"Easy... Mmm, tiger." her hand was now on his chest as she unzipped him slowly from the jumpsuit,
"Tell me, Mr. Presley... Did you think of me when you were fuckin those girls..."
"Every time..." he growled in her ear. As he pressed her against him, she could feel his cock against her ass. Biting her lip, "You know I love you... And only you," he whispered, biting her shoulder, "And I miss you and only you..." his fingers rubbed circles on her waist.
"Why don't you prove it..."
"Spread your legs, baby. And I'll show you," he commanded her. Cecelia felt her body pressed against the glass window, as his fingers were already working magic down from her heated skin to her oh-so-wet cavern. He could hear every little gasp and sharp mewl of a moan whenever his fingers would brush across the spot that made her say,
"Elvis..."
Or
"Right there..."
Or his favorite.
" Don't stop..."
"I wasn't planning on it." he laughed, "You're wet, sweetheart, and it's all for your Elvis, huh." she could hear his devilish smile through his thick southern accent, "Elvis..." she sighed, her eyelids fluttering at his finger-work, though to be fair she did love a man who was a God at the guitar. "Tell me what you want, baby..." his voice was husky and raspy and sending her on edge,
"I ...I need you..."
"Need me to what, baby girl..."
"Fuck me..." Her voice had an innocent tone to it, and it was driving him crazy.
"Is that how we ask for things, Cece..." he asked her as he gently grabbed her face, lust-blown eyes looking into one another. Cecelia shook her head no.
"Oh, come on, little darlin, you can use your words for your Elvis, can't."
"Please..." she whined and whimpered.
"Anything for my princess." Tilting her head up from her chin, and he kissed her. Elvis could taste the faint hint of champagne and her lipstick on his tongue. Cecelia could taste the punchy scent of his Cigarillo and his beer. But it only made the kiss more intense for her. After all, she still did miss him. Gripping onto his broad shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist as she scrunched up her nose, readjusting to his size.
"You okay, baby?" Elvis asked with concern.
"Mhmm... it's just been..." her body shivered as her face fell into his shoulder blade, "Awhile..."
"You've missed me, haven't you, doll..."
"Why doya ask Pres..."
"Legs shakin worse than mine, and I ain't even start yet." he laughed.
"Maybe cause. I'm all shook up, OH EL YES!" she moaned at the first thrust he gave her. Cecelia had her fingers caressing his sideburns. She then heard a thud as she felt the sensation of glass on her back. Elvis's thrusts were in rhythm with every whine and moan she gave him, like a que written in sheet music,
"Fuck! Atta boy!" Cecelia growled as her eyes rolled from the jolt of his hips,
"You like that baby girl... Heh..." holding her closer to him as if she'd slip away.
"YES... YES... YES... ELVIS YES!!!" she could hear him moaning in her ear,
"It's nothing but sweet lovin for you, doll..." he whispered in her ear along with other sweet nothings. He could feel her nearing her end as she pulsated around his cock, but he knew she didn't want the fun to end. carrying her to the bed as he was still stuffed deeply inside her, Elvis laid down with Cecelia on top of him,
"Can I ride you, baby..."
"Cece, we've been married fourteen years. You really gotta ask." he kissed her collarbone, as he then kissed down to the peak of her breast,
"Tryin to keep the spark alive."
"With a body like that, it ain't never died, Cece." he groaned as his mouth latched onto her nipple. She knew there'd be a hickey. But Cecelia didn't care. After all, it was still her birthday. Grinding down on him and moving her hips, she could feel every ounce of stress leaving her body, just from feeling the tip of him touching the spot that made her go wild like a bull seeing red,
"You like that baby, you like how I ride you..."
"Mhmm...I like the view, too." he moaned, his blue eyes rolling back as his dark lashes fluttered like butterfly wings. Elvis had one hand on her waist and the other gripping her ass. His hips followed her pace and rhythm.
"Faster baby..."
"FuCk Cece!"
Elvis watched as he felt her tongue lick all the way down his chest. Oh, how did he get so lucky? His heart was racing, and he felt even more feverish. He needed to feel her tongue wrapped around his,
"Fuck Fuck Fuck!!" her back was arched as if she were about to do the bridge, lost in her own pleasure. He could hear the moans and feel Cecelia's quivering lips squeeze him tighter. Rolling over, Cecelia was now at the bottom, looking up at blue, lust-filled eyes.
"Well, hello, handsome..."
"Hello, beautiful." he smirked as she laughed, "What's so funny..."
"Your jumpsuits still on..."
"Shit, you're right... mind helpin' me remove it," he asked as he felt her kissing down from his chest and towards the zipper as she unzipped the rest with her teeth, his bottom lip between his teeth. This was another reason why she was Mrs. Presley. She could put on a good show. Kissing back up the leg, she stopped at the main event, then back at Elvis as he took his index finger under her chin and traced Cecelia's plump lips with his thumb. Her mouth opened wide as he slipped his fingers in one by one, sucking on each and every one of them as they all left with a little pop,
"Think you can take all of me now..."
"Yes, Daddy Elvis..." she was in a daze as she blushed, "Did I just..."
"Don't pay it no mind, darlin... Just show your big daddy Elvis how much that little ol mouth of yours misses me so much." Her red lips wrapped around the base of his cock. As her eyes focused on him, she could hear him moan and grunt and groan as she worked every nerve and vein with the grazing of her teeth and tongue.
Elvis was in pure bliss as he pulled at her hair,
"Don't stop, doll..."
"Oh shit... shit... shit..."
His hips began to thrust into her mouth as she pulled away,
"You fucking tease..."
"Me! a..." She played innocent as he pulled her back to his level and moved between her legs, "Tease!" she yelped as she felt him lap up all her slick wet juices. "Elvis...Elvis... Elvis..." her fingers in her own hair as she felt him nibble at her clit and lightly pull on with his teeth. sliding in his long finger, He could feel her coil about to snap at any minute, but he couldn't let her finish like this. Not after how she just left him. Cecelia's breath was hitching as she felt his finger curl into her with a beckoning motion,
"Oh! O-O- Oh Fuck fuck fuck fuck!!!" if he hadn't known she was a singer he could, sure enough, tell by the E6 note she was hitting, he was taking her there and he could tell from the way her breathing was staggering.
"EL I'M GONNA!"
He stopped as he smirked looking up at her,
"You fucking tease!"
"Me... A tease oh darlin..." Lining himself with Cecelia, he entered back in as a shudder escaped both of their bodies, the two were both stimulated enough to pick back up from where they left off. His hips were rutting against her like a dog in heat, the two were in pure bliss as his hand wrapped around her neck and squeezed gently as she felt the cool metal of his rings,
"Oh God... ELVIS FUCK ME!"
"Mmmm! BABY OH SHIT!"
Cecelia collapsed on top of him as her breathing was heavy,
"Did you uh..."
"Mhmm..." she nods.
"Did you..."
"Mhmm..." Pulling out, he got a warm towel and cleaned her up as she kissed his cheek,
"Want anything to drink," Elvis asked,
"I could drink you..." she smirked watching him stand up as she smacked his ass,
"Watch it there honey." he laughed as she smirked,
"How can I when I've got grade-A beef in my face."
As the night went on the pair was snuggled up together, under the sheets. Elvis had his arms around Cecelia playfully kissing her neck as she giggled, There was a knock on the door and the two groaned putting on their robes, it was now 11:56 pm, and outside the hotel room were Jerry and Midge rolling in two guitar shaped birthday cakes.
"Happy birthday E and C..."
"What's wrong?" Elvis looked at the two as they then looked at each other, tussled hair and bite marks, both of their hearts beating faster with just one look,
"Should we leave them..."
"Yep..."
From afar the only thing they could hear was,
"Come here, big boy..."
"Yes, baby girl..."
"Should we even wake em up tomorrow ?"
"Nah."
#oc#fanfiction#new stuff#new#elvis presley#elvis fanfiction#elvis the pelvis#70s elvis#smut#elvis x oc smut#elvis fans#elvis smut#vegas elvis#poc oc#Spotify
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how about elvis & ditzy/innocent reader doing something in public?
thank you!! i don't do a lot of smut so i hope y'all like this! 🧚
🧚 masterlist 🧚
word count: 1,758
pairing: 70s elvis x innocent!ditzy!reader
warnings: fingering (f receiving), praise k!nk, overstim, public smut, daddy dom dynamics
"This bit is my favourite." You whisper adorably to Elvis, trying to be as quiet as possible and contain your sweet excitement at the scene about to play.
It wasn't uncommon for Elvis to hire out the Memphian Theater for you two and the Mafia. In fact, it was the go-to activity for you all after a long day of Elvis performing, recording or rehearsing. It was however, a bit more unusual for Elvis to let you pick the movie.
The choice was Sleeping Beauty, your favourite movie and Elvis would often call you his 'lil' sleepin' beauty' as you did indeed remind him of Princess Aurora.
Elvis smirked down at you, sat upright by his side, your big round eyes fixed on the screen as you mindlessly parted those pretty pink lips and put popcorn in your mouth, over and over again, your attention not leaving the screen as Aurora met Prince Phillip in the woods for the first time.
Knowing how transfixed his sweet little thing was, Elvis effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, your attention never wavering from the screen as you let Elvis manhandle you like his own little dolly.
Slowly, Elvis started feeding you the popcorn, as you watched the movie like a good girl. Absent-mindedly, you'd wrap your lips around Elvis' thumb or his finger as he'd place it in your mouth so you could suck the sugary sweet residue off his digits.
Truth be told, Elvis hadn't followed along with the movie since the first scene, his attention solely on you. But oh, how he adored watching you be so entertained and sweet for him.
He knew the rest of the Mafia weren't over the moon with your choice of movie, it wasn't exactly the usual Western that they were used to, but Elvis didn't care, he only cared about the sweet thing on his lap. Besides, they were a few rows back, allowing the two of you to have your own space.
All of Elvis' affectionate touches and kisses went over your head initially, your mind elsewhere, enjoying the popcorn you were being fed by the big, old man who's lap you were settled on.
It wasn't until Elvis wrapped a strong arm around your tummy, holding you in place as he shuffled in his place, letting his legs part ever so, so that your legs were now completely apart, each leg dangling over each of his, leaving your core dangerously exposed under your sweet pink skirt, that you begin to feel that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.
Gently, Elvis' coarse, large hands toyed with the hem of your skirt, his fingers lingering ever closer to your centre. Elvis kept his arm secured tightly around you, holding you in place so you couldn't squirm about as he began to trace circles into your plush thigh.
"Um..." You murmured softly, feeling that all too familiar funny feeling from Elvis' touch.
"Uh-uh doll, no talkin' durin' the movie pretty girl." Elvis reprimanded cooly, whispering in your ear from behind and making your shiver all over, causing you to try and squirm before realising that Elvis was holding you closely to him. "Eyes on the screen lil' one." Elvis instructed, quietly delighting in teasing you.
Elvis didn't wait though before he dragged his hands up your thighs, pushing up your pretty skirt and exposing your panties to the cold air of the theatre.
You blinked sweetly, trying to keep your attention on the movie that Elvis had paid a lot to have screened for you.
It was only when you felt Elvis' fingers toy at the damp fabric between your legs that you let out another stuttered gasp, your head lolling forward ever so, at the sudden sensation.
"Such a sensitive thing, hm?" Elvis whispered into your ear at your reaction at just a mere touch.
See, Elvis was right. It didn't take much for Elvis to stimulate you, he knew you inside out and he knew exactly how to work you into overdrive, and oh how we adored watching you get all antsy and disoriented.
And of course, Elvis knew what he was doing to you. He knew exactly what he wanted to happen during the movie as soon as he'd booked it. He knew that he'd wanted to pleasure you in the darkened room as soon as your eyes went wide with delight when Elvis told about the date night. Even as Elvis held your hand and led you to the seats in the theatre, Elvis knew those hands would be somewhere else entirely within a matter of minutes.
All you knew of course, was that you were excited for the movie that in your words was "just oh so pretty!". Elvis' decidedly darker intentions with you had gone right over your sweet head.
But there you both were, your lips parted and glossy as Elvis' fingers slipped under the damp fabric and began to massage your clit, pressing his thumb onto it and applying pressure as he rubbed you in circular motions.
Elvis watched with a smirk as he felt your chest rise and fall at a quicker and more erratic pace, he relished in the power he had over you.
You began to writhe in his hold before you felt his grip get tighter around your waist, his silent sign to hold still, a sign that you instantly obeyed. But there was nothing that could stop your head falling back on his shoulder as Elvis' fingers rubbed through your glistening folds, slick coating them.
Your breathing had now become erratic with breathy pants leaving your lips as the urge to mewl at the sensation grew and grew.
"Good girl, gotta keep quiet huh?" Elvis hushed, making you want to whine but you knew you couldn't draw any attention to the pair of you. "Now, pay attention to your movie baby." Elvis said, teasing you as he knew you were struggling with even keeping your eyes open, let alone concentrating on the movie on the screen but he just wanted to make you into a little mess.
And without warning, Elvis slipped a finger into your hole, your muscles tightening around it as you whimpered softly, tears pricking at your eyes from the searing pleasure and burn of it.
"That's it, taking it like such a good girl, ain'tchu?" Elvis soothed in your ear, knowing the torment he was putting you through by not letting you moan and whine like you normally would in Graceland.
You managed a feeble nod as your wet lashes fluttered, drinking in the pleasure as Elvis stretched your walls.
"Would you like another one?" Elvis asked cooly, a gloating smile taking over his face as you quickly nodded.
"Yes." You hissed, inadvertently rocking your hips ever so slightly, getting all desperate for Elvis' touch.
But Elvis wasn't one to give up control as he swatted your side at your movements, tsk-ing at you disapprovingly.
"Uh-uh Little, you just sit tight and keep them eyes on the screen and behave." Elvis reprimanded, as he stretched you further, putting in another finger, pumping them in and out of your pretty pussy, placing gentle kisses on your cheek and neck, overstimulating you more and more by the minute.
Your face was all flushed and pink, your hands balmy as you gripped onto Elvis' strong arm that was across your tummy with one of them and continued to hold the box of popcorn tightly with the other.
Elvis quickened his pace in you, watching with intensity as he watched a tear fall from your wet lashes. "Mmm baby, yer so sweet n' soaked, ain't ya?" Elvis teased lowly, watching you furrow your brow, trying so hard to be a good girl like you'd been told and keep in the moans you wanted to desperately to let out.
At this point, you're in total bliss, you're nothing more than a dripping mess in Elvis' arms, totally succumbed to his touch and desperate for more of it.
And this is exactly why Elvis is just so in love with you. You're his little dolly, to use exactly the way he wants, whenever he wants. It doesn't matter if the entire Memphis Mafia are 10 rows behind you, it doesn't matter if this is your favourite movie that you haven't seen for years, it doesn't matter that your panties are by your ankles in the middle of the Memphian, all that matters is that you belong to Elvis.
Truth be told, despite Elvis telling you multiple times not to make a peep, he didn't actually care if anyone heard the two of you, in fact, it turned him on to know that he had this sort of dominance and power over you that everyone would know that you're his, that you listen and follow every word that comes out of his mouth, that you love him just as much as he loves you.
You can feel that 'love' underneath you too, rock hard and huge, pressing into your ass, as he continues to pump his fingers into you and you bite your lip in a desperate bid not to cry out loud.
It didn't take long for Elvis to quicken his already fast pace on you, sending you into sensory overload, not being able to cope and hold it in any more.
"Let it out f'me." Elvis soothed sternly and it wouldn't be a lie to say your vision went all blurry and starry as your mind become clouded and you felt that familiar warmth spread through your body and your pussy leaking on Elvis' fingers and pant leg.
You couldn't help but let out a gasp as Elvis removed his fingers from you and Elvis didn't reprimand you this time, knowing that all you'd been was a good girl for him.
Elvis manouvered you ever so slightly so he could grab your damp panties that had fallen to your ankles and pocketed them before you had the chance to lazily grab them, he'd give them back to you when you both arrived back to Graceland.
Elvis watched you with that shit-eating grin on his face as you blinked hazily, looking adorably dumb-founded as you sat in his lap, cum dripping down your bare leg as you looked up at him with that gorgeous, innocent gaze that Elvis could simply die for.
"You're gon' miss the movie dolly." Elvis said softly, pointing his ring clad finger at the screen, as he rubbed soothing circles in your back, knowing you'd be begging to come back to the movie theatre in no time.
#elvis#elvis presley#elvis imagine#elvis x reader#elvis smut#elvis x y/n#elvis fluff#70s elvis#elvis x you#yandere elvis#innocent reader#innocent!reader#naive reader#praise k!nk#elvis presley x you#elvis x oc#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley x y/n#elvis presley x reader#big daddy elvis#overstim kink
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Good Husbandry
Summary -> While you view preparing for your honeymoon as finding all the hottest destinations in Honolulu for tourists, Elvis knows that he must help you, his soon-to-be virgin bride, understand all that comes with the honeymoon. What a good man he is, to give you a little hands-on lesson on what good husbandry is.
Warnings -> Lovely domestic things, innocence/purity kink, religious undertones, smut, just the tip trope, hinted breeding kink, swearing, Elvis gets a little rough, mention of RFK's assassination, the reader is overbearingly sheltered when it comes to topics like sex, cum eating, fantasies of "ruining" a girl's vagina, there's definitely some plot here I won't lie, loved writing this a little too much.
WC -> 7.3k
A/N -> This is an installation of the Baby Love AU. Find Masterlist Here!
The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotion for everyone. Elvis was doing press conferences for the NBC special he was about to start filming for, and while you usually go with him, with the recent assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, it was decided unanimously that it would be best if you were at home.
Elvis would have liked to keep you by his side, but given your family’s public connection to the Kennedys he knew that the press might behave in an uncalled for manner toward you.
It was also to be noted that he’d been very patient with you the entire week, after all you did know the man. He was a close family friend, a lot closer to your father, mother, and older brother than you. But there were still tears shed a few nights ago when it had occurred.
Most of that week you sat around the current California home, keeping the couch company like you were the prettiest of pillows as you spent most of your time on the telephone with your hysterical mother and being soothed by your childhood nanny who now watched your younger brother. You’d decided to write a letter to Ethel, she was no doubt being bombarded with phone calls from press and other family with the recent death of her husband.
It was a rough way to start the month, it was only 6 days into June when something as tragic as that had occurred.
You were certain things would change in regards to the guest list of your wedding just a little over a week away, for one you could understandably count on the possible absence of Ethel Kennedy and her children. Aside from her it wasn’t Elvis’ side you were worried about, because when Elvis says jump they all say “how high?”. It was your own side that worried you.
You knew it was selfish and stupid to be thinking of that at a time like this, those poor Kennedys have been through so much. But you couldn’t help the worrisome thoughts that lingered in your mind. Your parents already didn’t approve of Elvis all that much, with the influx of emotion that this event caused they might just cancel all together and then you’ll be left without anyone from your own family.
And that alone could cause an emotional storm to brew in Elvis. He always expressed his own disdain for your family, but you knew there was guilt deep down that he felt. And if he realized that he were the reason your wedding day went without family, he would be angry with you and himself. But that was only because he felt things very deeply, he was caring in that way.
So you made sure the past few days to get in as much reading as possible, so that even if your wedding doesn’t end up being the dream you hoped for, that your knowledge of your honeymoon destination would make up for it.
It had to be perfect. You had to be perfect.
"We better get up and get changed soon..."
You hummed absently at Elvis' words as your eyes continued to skim along the page.
"Wouldn't want the rest of the boys seein' ya in ya nightie"
You hummed once more at whatever he had said, much too focused on your book to pay much mind. Elvis noticed this and laughed softly as he asked,
"What are ya readin' Honey?"
You looked up from the book that you had been enthralled in for the past half-hour to see Elvis staring at you over one of his religious books, he had a crooked smile and a quirked eyebrow, his facial expression likely from the fact that you were actually reading a book.
You smiled cheekily and crawled closer to him on the bed, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you quickly card your floral bookmark in between the pages you were on before closing it and presenting it to Elvis, your fiancé.
"It's a book all about Hawaii, it has some of the best secret locations on all the islands, including Oahu"
You smiled up at him as his eyes scrolled to look over at you then at the book, a smirk playing on his lips as he did so. He set his book down on his lap to grab yours, one of his fingers tracing over the cover as he murmured honestly,
"Well Babylove, I don't think these locations are all too secret anymore considerin' the book is 7 years old"
You hummed softly at the statement. Truthfully you only picked the book off the shelf because one, it said Hawaii which is the place you and Elvis were planning to be your honeymoon destination, and secondly, it was pink.
Elvis shook his head fondly and brought a hand up to ruffle your hair, thankfully at the moment there were no rings on his fingers to pluck and pull at the strands of your hair. With that in mind you happily leaned into the touch like a cat getting its fix from its owner.
You roll your body closer, dragging one leg over Elvis' legs as if he were one of those long body pillows. You snuggled your face into his chest, feeling the silky fabric of his short ascot scarf. He'd recently begun wearing them often, you didn't mind it because you could tug him by his scarf whenever you wanted a kiss.
Your voice was soft and murmured into the fabric, "I wanna start our marriage off right, our honeymoon has to be perfect, and this book,”
You pull back for a moment to grab the book and open it to the first page. Elvis watches with an amused smile as your dainty little finger flies across the dust-colored pages to the sentence that you read aloud,
"These spots will guarantee a sweet time with that special someone"
Elvis’ voice is laced with harmless sarcasm (that you don’t quite catch) as he says,
“Oh well if the book says so, it has to be true”
You then excitedly close the book and show Elvis the back cover, where a quote from what must've been a review was laid out in bold, "Has the hottest places for America’s hottest honeymoon destination"
Elvis laughed softly. His arm wraps around your shoulder as his hand runs up and down your back, calluses grazing the delicate fabric of your satin nightie with a scratching sound before taking its rest on the curve of your ass. He explains, "Well little one, there's a bit more to honeymoons and marriage than that"
Your eyebrow quirks in the way you learned from watching Elvis' own eyebrow within the span of your relationship. It looked as if you were suspicious of Elvis, thinking he was trying to pull the wool over your eyes.
With a gentle hand Elvis removed the book from your hand and set it on the nightstand where he then set his own book on as well. You laughed softly as Elvis’ hands pulled you into your place, till you straddled his lap innocently for him to explain something,
“Well Babylove, a big part of marriage and honeymoonin’ is good husbandry.”
You go silent for a second, thinking to yourself as your fingers trace little shapes on Elvis’ chest absentmindedly. When you come to the conclusion that you’re clueless on the subject you ask,
“What’s husbandry?”
Elvis’ hands run along your sides, running up to your ribs, down to your hips, then repeating their cycle, it was in his own absentmindedness that he did it as he explained,
“Well, husbandry is kind of cultivatin’ and makin’ use of land, sorta like plantin’ a seed and takin’ care of it.”
“Like farmers do?”
“Very good girl, like farmers do. Now ya see, that comes into play within things like marriage and honeymoons. To be a farmer, the first thing ya gotta do is plant a seed, then ya get your farm goin’ and everythin’ is just dandy as long as you keep takin’ care of that seed.”
You nodded your head along to what he was saying, it made sense. But what did that have to do with your honeymoon?
“Just as that goes, to be a husband, you also gotta plant a seed. So ya see, in marriage, instead of a farmer plantin’ a seed, it’s the husband who plants the seed, and he plants it right in your petals”
You grimaced with embarrassment as you heard Elvis mention your “petals”. Such talk was still very new to you. Having been raised by the church most of your life, and having only attended catholic private schools, you’d been taught that such talk was deplorable and vulgar.
Elvis seemed to be trying to undo all their teaching as he was very free and open with topics such as that one.
He could see the way your face began to dust a precious pink along your cheeks as you stared down at your hands scrunching up his shirt’s fabric within them. He couldn’t help but adore his sweet girl and lift your chin to take in the entirety of your innocence, the privilege of being innocent and naive having been fed to you with a silver spoon since you were a baby with your family’s fortune.
Your education didn’t span too far, it was done under the assumption that you’d be protected from the roughness of the world, the riff-raff. And though Elvis was a fair match monetarily-wise to your parents and the people you were raised around,with enough money to keep you as far away from the world’s roughness as possible, he was still considered to be in that riff-raff crowd.
Oh, what a shame for your family and the rest of your upper-class culture to have a rare purity, like you whisked away from your family made up of good breeding and a pure bloodline by a man like Elvis who would screw it all up when he one day planted his seed into your womb, making your once purebred French bloodline his own as he mixed himself into the history of your DNA to make a child that you will carry for months.
A child you will love to no end while your ancestors roll over in their graves.
Just the thought of it all made Elvis giddy.
His smile is cheeky as he grabs one of your nervous hands to soothe you while also keeping a grip on your chin with his other hand, his voice is breathy from speaking through a laugh,
“Now don’t let me lose ya, still got some splainin’ to do”
You can’t help but continue to duck your head away into your shoulder to hide your embarrassment, till Elvis pulls you out of it with his sweet little nickname for you,
“C’mon now Bubbles, need ya to keep listenin’ f’me”
You look up to meet those dark blues of Elvis’ that pierce with a strange softness.
“To seal the marriage a man plants his seed in a woman, and from then on he has to take care of that woman, that’s good husbandry. That’s part of what happens on a honeymoon. Understand?”
You nod slowly, and mumble a soft, “I understand”, before laying yourself down on Elvis, making yourself comfortable as you lay your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso, somehow squeezing their way between Elvis' frame and the mattress.
Marriage seemed scary. Ever since you had gotten engaged to Elvis you felt a different weight begin to fall on your shoulders. And though you were excited to marry Elvis, you couldn’t help but remember how your mother described marriage to be with your father.
As Elvis dragged his hands along your body tracing every poke of a bone through your skin he closed his eyes, showing his affection through the action, you thought back to how marriage was represented to you as a little girl.
There were nights when your father stayed late for work that you’d sit on the floor between your mother's legs as she sat on the sofa, by then she would be nursing her 4th glass of wine that night, and let her braid your hair before bed.
You’d whimper softly as her diamond-littered gaudy engagement ring, which was comparable to the one you now owned, would catch on some strands of your hair. But you wouldn’t voice any complaint as she was too busy voicing her own, complaining to an 8-year-old you about your father’s “wandering eye”, how he loves work more than he loves his family, and that he can’t even function without a pill, in what sense she meant “function” you’d never know, because you only saw your father as a personal superhero. The man who would bring gifts like Santa, the man who would read you to bed on the rare nights he could, the man who held the whole world in his hand every time he held you.
You didn’t recognize the man your mother would drunkenly describe. And soon after you wouldn’t recognize your own mother as she would break into tears and talk about how it’s her fault, and that she knows it all falls on her to make the marriage work, she just needs to try harder.
You’d caress her knee and try to soothe the adult, “It’s okay Mommy”, while mustering up the courage to promise her that, “It’ll be okay”
And then at the end of the night, she would turn you around and slur with as much affection as she could muster,
“Always tend to your husband Sweetie, don’t make a prude of yourself like me, don’t make a nagging wife, be pleasant and pliant and you’ll be a happy wife”
Of course you weren’t married yet, and that might’ve been what was causing you to be such a worrywart, because you were scared of the unknown. That’s why you’ve been trying your best to find ways to start the marriage off in the best way possible.
But you now had a whole other thing to worry about perfecting, husbandry.
It would all work out though, as long as you heed your mother’s words and be a pleasant, pliant wife, you’ll be just fine, and you’re confident that Elvis would never turn out to be the kind of husband that your mother described your father to be.
You mumbled into the fabric of Elvis’ shirt,
“How does a man plant his seed in a woman?”
Elvis’ hands came to a halt at your words. He thought he’d gone over this kind of thing with you before, then again there was never much need to. You never prodded for more than you were given, because you were simply unaware there was more you could get out of the pleasures of your body.
Elvis stared down at the top of your head as you kept your cheek resting on his chest, he realized how abstract your thoughts must’ve been compared to his within your relationship. He had spent countless nights holding himself back from making you his completely, there were so many times he easily could’ve done so. So many times you put yourself in the position to be vulnerable to the disgusting thought of a man who knew the pleasures you could give.
Had Elvis been a different man he would’ve done so by now, taken you shamelessly and left you crumpled on the floor next to your crumpled up clothes.
But he’d be reigned back by the thought that God wouldn’t make something like you, something so pure and holy, for sin. Had Elvis not been a god-fearing man he would’ve had his way with you.
All those nights he spent eating you out, listening to you finally break that voice box of yours in, the only thing he’d thought about was how much louder you would be when he could finally fuck you, meanwhile you thought that the sensation guided by Elvis’ tongue that momentarily blinded you was as good as it got, was as close as you’d get to God.
Oh Elvis could show you so much more, teach you so much more, touch you so much more. And as shameful as it is, he’d be a liar if he said that the fact that he wanted to be the one deflower you didn’t play a role in your engagement.
“I could show ya how it’s done Honey, would ya be alright with that? It’s a little different from anything we’ve ever done”
You sat up on his lap and nodded as you kept a hand to support yourself up on his stomach. He basked in the sight of you with a small smile, digging his hands through your hair like roots in the dirt, so deep and entangled it could be hard to tell where your hair began and his hands ended.
It wasn’t at all painful in the way your mother’s hands used to rest in your hair during her drunken stupor.
It was gentle as Elvis always was.
He used a gentle force to pull you close enough for him to press a kiss to your forehead for a moment and hold it there, you closed your eyes and let out a breath, any stiff stress in your body leaving at the touch of Elvis’ lips.
He pulled away, lips and hands.
“Lay down Baby”
Elvis patted your side of the bed and you quickly laid down as you usually would, and with a quick fwip of his hips Elvis’ knees rested just outside your thighs, his entire body hovering above yours as he reached over to your nightstand.
You heard the clink of glass, no doubt the two glass figurines you’d had since you were a child, your voice was soft but panicked as you felt a pang of protectiveness over your childhood trinkets.
“W-What are you doing?”
His response was immediate as he knew your sentimental feelings toward your figurines,
“It’s alright Honey, jus’ turnin’ Dottie and Lottie around”
“Oh.”
You let out a sigh of relief before having a blush spread like a wildfire in the summer across your cheeks. When Elvis had first touched you, you felt the need to turn your glass figurines Dolores and Charlotte, also known as Dottie and Lottie, around before he could continue any further. When he asked you why you could only mumble a quiet explanation about wanting to preserve their innocence. Elvis didn’t mind the strange gesture, he thought it was rather cute actually, it was something so girlish and sweet, something he’d never think of, it further instituted that you really were an endearing little girl.
And ever since then anytime Elvis touched you, he’d always turn your figurines toward the wall for you. And him doing it now meant that to plant his seed in you, he had to touch you.
You close your eyes as you relax into the mattress completely, and feel a shift in the bed then the cold air began to linger up your nightie, or rather Elvis made your nightie linger up your skin, giving way for him to view the cutely contrasting color of your pastel yellow panties to your pastel blue short satin nightie.
As the bed shifted a little more you allowed Elvis to part your legs so he could slide off the piece of fabric, his hands caressing the skin of your ankles a few seconds longer than the rest of your leg, and then he intricately removed your panties off your feet he laid them on the outside of your thigh, within arm's length.
You assumed what you’d be feeling next was what you always felt whenever he touched you, those calloused fingers of his walking their way up your thighs as he made himself comfortable right between the two limbs, his mouth and nose inches away from that bundle of nerves that he so lovingly explained was the bud of your little rose.
His fingers would then drift down to what he called the petals of your rose, separating them gently, exposing your hole to the cold air of the room making you shiver like the scared little girl you were as he did so. But he liked it, liked how visceral all your reactions were from your inexperience.
Only this time, you’d been wrong as you heard the familiar shink of his belt, and as if you were a trained dog and his belt were a clicker, your eyes shot open as you knew what that sound meant. It meant you got to do the touching, but, why were your panties off if you were doing the touching?
As you sat up you saw Elvis shucking his pants and boxers down, you watched with a blush as you saw his dick, it wasn’t yet completely hard, it more so at half-staff if anything, with that it maintained enough loose skin so that the usual image of his veins bulging profusely through the thin skin was not a sight you’d yet see, but you could change that.
As you sat up with your legs still spread enough so that Elvis once he was free of his pants was able to swiftly kneel between them. You leaned forward with an eager hand but Elvis had caught your wrist before you’d made it to your target, you batted your eyelashes up at him in confusion.
“Elvis?”
He had a crooked smile on his lips and asked, “Don’t ya remember what ya gotta do first? C’mon Hon we’ve been over this a dozen times”. You had to think for a moment but felt flushed with embarrassment at your own mistake.
Elvis’ eyebrow ticked upward as he caught your realization, then he slowly raised your hand up to your mouth for you to lick a stripe along it. When he didn’t immediately pull away you knew to keep lapping at the skin till Elvis saw it suitable.
His head tilted down a little as he made eye-contact with you through the cracks of your fingers, staring at you as you licked lines of wet along the lines of your palm, he was mumbling a praise or too like “There ya go”, and “Just like that”. You only shut your mouth as his free hand came up to cup your cheek and gently push you back from your hand.
With your newfound view of his cock it definitely looked less limp than before but Elvis had taught you how to get it standing, and you wanted to show him that you could. He’d been loosening the reins lately and had been giving you more independence to touch him in the way you knew he liked. But at the perfect moments he’d step in and be a helping hand, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he showed you what kind of pace he liked when his dick twitched a specific way.
It was him helping you build this muscle memory that was slowly etching its way into your brain, on the walls of your skull, and in the nerves of your hand
With the softest of groans leaving Elvis’ mouth your eyes shot up from his cock that maintained the attention of your palm, wanting to see his face, see the preview of your own triumph as you continued to stroke with the pace his hand guided yours along.
His smile was gone as his mouth twisted slightly to let out the low noise, he licked his lips quickly and tightened his hold on your hand, in turn tightening your hold on his cock as he ran your palm up and down it, your voice was hesitant and soft as you questioned, “L-Like that Elvis? I do it like that…”
He hummed an affirmation and mumbled, “Keep at it”, before pulling his hand off yours, leaning back on the bed on his palms while watching you with lowered lids, had they been any lower they would’ve been closed.
You tried shuffling yourself closer by planting your heels into the mattress and scooting yourself closer, but it was hard to focus on both things. You didn’t want to louse up what a good job you were doing, but you felt you could do better if you were just a little closer.
Elvis must’ve read your inner turmoil as he leaned off his palms and cupped the back of your knees with each hand, pulling you closer at the top of your calves where they connected with your thighs. As you continued with your strokes you noticed how close you now were, your bare pussy had never been so close to Elvis’ cock.
With the realization a strange curiosity shot through you, a kind of curiosity that had filled your senses one of the first times you’d sat on Elvis’s lap. He kept you on one knee easily, and it had been the leg that he often bounced absentmindedly, and as he easily bounced you on his leg you felt a weird sensation, and that damned curiosity of yours got the best of you subtly shifted on his leg, and suddenly the jumbling of your legs on his knee had shifted to a jumbling on a small bundle of nerves between your legs.
No you wouldn’t let your curiosity get the best of you again, you wouldn’t.
As Elvis pulled his hands away from your legs he leaned back on one palm and the other he reached forward to rub that very bundle of nerves you’d just been thinking of about. Just the slightest bit of force made your body react with what could be described as a convulsion as you breathed out a noise of surprise.
Elvis’ almost dazed look on his face didn’t shift as he glided his calloused thumb down between your folds, scooping up whatever was beginning to wet them, then using it as a lubricant to give your clit a good rub down, his facial expression unwavering as he watched you twitch and struggle to focus on doing a good job.
His voice was low and almost sounded slurred as he mumbled,
“Now this is hard ain’t it Honey? Tryin’ to pleasure each other at the same time?”
Your face shrunk and your lip quivered as you tried to maintain that you wouldn’t break under the sensations of it all, wanting to do good.
Upon gaining no answer Elvis’ eyes glazed up to meet yours, they now shifted to sympathy as he reassured you gently with little circles of his thumb around your bud,
“It’s alright Baby, I know it. I know it’s hard, that’s why through marriage a man can plant his seed in a woman, makes it easier y’know? A man can help you while he helps himself, ya shouldn’t have t’be doin’ work Honey”
You don’t know when you started nodding along to his words, you hardly understood them, but the way his eyebrows arched, the way his lips curled, the way his voice drew out, he seemed like he knew everything in the world. He was so in his element that you wouldn’t question it if he told you a cat were a dog.
But you had to ask, through your soft pants and whimpers, “H-how?” How was it possible to both be pleasured at the same time? How was it possible for both of you to reach that special spot just between the earth and the heavens where all felt impossibly right?
Elvis’ lips grew to a smirk once more as he removed his thumb from your clit and his hand wrapped around yours to pull you away. As you looked down you saw that familiar sight, that thin skin stretched out to show that long vein that started at the side of his dick and traveled down the center.
His other hand ran up your calf, to your thigh just to rest on your stomach, still covered by the top of your satin nightie, and with a firm force and a, “Lie back f’me” you were laid down on the bed with your legs spread.
He spread them a little further, and you watched as best you could while still laying down, craning your neck painfully to see what he was doing as he made a ring out of his thumb and index finger.
Elvis’ eyes met with yours, making sure you were watching before lining the tip of his cock up with the little makeshift hole he made of his fingers for demonstration.
“When a man plants his seed, he fills you with himself. This right here,” He lifted the little ring he’d made of two fingers, “This is like that little hole between your petals, so what I’m gonna do is fill it just slightly,” he slid the ring over the tip of his cock, leaving you to watch with a mouth slightly agape as his movement stretches the foreskin.
It’s not like when you stroke him though, he stops much too short, and doesn’t even go near the base of his cock, he ends at the base of the tip only.
“Now, this much is just till the wedding Hon. We can only do just the tippy top Baby, can’t break ya in just yet, we gotta wait till we’re unified under God to make that kinda connection-”
“...cause it’s special”
Elvis looked up at you, surprised to hear your soft voice so suddenly, it seems the words left your mouth with a little thoughtful pout. God, let this man hold back today. Let him be graceful and kind to his babylove, Elvis thought to himself as he smiled softly and hummed,
“Yes it is sweet girl, it’s somethin’ special”
As a moment of sweet silence filled the air the two of you made eye contact, you smiled, feeling unsure of what was to come, he smiled back knowingly.
“Are ya ready Babylove?”
You bit your lower lip nervously and could only nod with trusting eyes. Elvis’ figure suddenly shut out most of the light from the ceiling as he supported his body above yours with one hand while he used his other to line up the tip of his cock.
You let out a shaky breath as he parted your fold with the tip of his cock before running it along your leaking slit. From the bottom up past the top till he hit that bundle of nerves that he could find with a blindfold. You squeaked softly at the bit of force he was using to circle your clit with his cock.
Elvis swore he’d do everything with you in mind, but as he watched the way your big eyes would crinkle to little bouts of eyelid folds and as he saw the way your lip quiver with every squeak and breath you let out, he couldn’t help himself but gauge your reaction to a little something.
Your breaths came out one by one in panic as you suddenly felt the tip of his cock begin to bat around your little bundle of nerves from the top, from side to side, even attacking from the bottom. Your eyes shot open from their little crinkles of stress and just before you could open your mouth his little batting around of your sensitive bud turned to slowed drawn out circles rubbing along the edge.
“That feels good huh Honey? It’s gonna get even better, just need ya to relax. Uh huh, that’s good, you’re doin’ good”
You relaxed into it, your jaw falling slack and your breaths coming out shallow. As you sank into that warmth that always accompanied Elvis’ gentle touch, Elvis pulled his neck back slightly to get a better look at your hole, with your folds parted he had a perfect view if he could look past his cock. He craned his neck a little to the left and found the target, wide open from your relaxed state, he licked his thumb to lubricate it and like a veteran, he navigated his cock down and at the forefront of it as his thumb took its place and pace in circling your clit, had you not been watching through lidded eyes you wouldn’t have even noticed.
“Here it come Baby, here it come”
Elvis couldn’t even look at you to gauge your reaction as his head fell back immediately as he was engulfed by your heat. Somewhere in the distance he heard a high-pitched noise but he was too high on the feeling- No, the knowledge that the first thing to fill you, to really fill you was his uncut cock’s head.
He breathed out to the ceiling, or rather to the Lord,
“Fuck…”
How could a feeling like this fill his mind, body, and soul from just the tip going in. Shit if he hadn’t already proposed to you he would do it now, just so he could one day feel the full effect of your body on his.
And then he finally peered down at you, and you were a sight to behold. He hadn’t been with a virgin in a long time, and the ones he had been with, you made them look like the most experienced girls in the world.
Your face was crumpled and your clenched fist was brought up to your mouth, you bit down so hard on your knuckles Elvis could see the skin losing its color around your little teeth. His hand slid down to your hip, running along the skin soothingly, as he hummed out, “Relax, it’s alright, just relax”
You nodded and pulled your fist from your mouth to show you were relaxing, but as your lower lip trembled Elvis could only softly remind, “Relax…”
And after a few moments of Elvis running his hands along your hips you spoke in an unsure whisper, “I-Is that it?”, Elvis sighed with a smile, “No Hon, don’t worry, but I can’t show ya the rest till ya relax, alright?” Elvis could feel you tightly around him, if he tried to pull the head of his cock back out he’d hurt you, he knew that.
"I-I am relaxed"
“No ya not Babylove”
You sighed softly, feeling a bit frustrated, this wasn’t what you thought it would be, it hurt. And it was obvious that you weren’t acting in the most pleasing way, so you lied through your teeth with a bit of an edge to your quiet words, “I’m relaxed.”
Elvis’ soft smile fell slightly at the tone of voice, and his eyebrows rose as he stared down at you, only now you avoided eye contact and opted to look at the wall. You tried to focus on the paint of the wall as best you can but it was thrown out the door as you felt a painful pull.
You whined at the feeling, and watched as Elvis pulled out, now you attempted to look him in the eye but he didn’t even spare you a glance as he muttered before lining himself up again, “Call that fuckin’ relaxed? If you’re so relaxed it should be easy goin’ back in”
Before you could voice an apology he’d already shoved the tip back in. It was much rougher than the first time he had put it in, it had you release a loud whimper and kick your feet, your heels pushing you away from his body, but his hips only chased further.
And those hands that were soothingly rubbing along your hips earlier now had them in a bruising grip to keep you from moving.
“Said ya relaxed, so fuckin’ act like it-”
Elvis let out a low groan as he stroked his cock while your little hole contracted from the stress of it all, it was like you were trying to swallow him, trying to suck him down into you. Almost like your body knew you needed his seed. And had he been a different man, or more accurately, had you been a different girl, he would’ve given it to you without shame. But you were different, you were special, you made this special.
He pulled out once more just to push back in, and then he repeated with no time in between, leaving you gasping at the rough push and pull of his cock head and whining at it, before blubbering out a series of apologies to him.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, ‘m not relaxed..! I-It hurts Elvis..!”
He’d ignored your apologies, but the way you said his name, like he could solve all your problems while also causing all of them, it was like you had this type of innocence. A pure innocence that no matter the pain he’d cause you, you’d still love him. Like if he kicked you, you’d come running right back.
Elvis stopped himself from pulling out once more and stared down at you, his grip released and one of his hands cupped your cheek and rested a thumb at the corner of your eye just before your temple, ready to catch a tear in case those teary eyes of yours spill over.
You stared up at him with a frown and pulled your hands to rest nervously on your stomach, feeling a sudden sense of awkwardness mixed with discomfort at the idea of Elvis being upset with you. But instead he seemed to sympathize with you,
“Now you see, ya gotta listen to me Babylove. I don’t expect much from ya, all I expect is honesty, now, be honest and let me know when you relax.”
You let out a shaky breath and soft noise as Elvis’ thumb landed back on your clit, beginning to rub those circles that make your hips twist a little from instinct. Elvis’ lips had been on yours in the blink of an eye, but his kiss was deep and slow, it wasn’t like when he’d kiss you so hard and so fast that your teeth knocked against his. Instead you felt his tongue explore each and every inch of your mouth carefully, could feel the way his tongue swiped along the small space between your lower gums and teeth.
His nose lightly grazed against the start of your cheek as he tilted his head to get a different angle.
And in what would be one of the only moments for you to catch your breath within the kiss, you managed to breath out, “‘M ready”
It was a different kind of tug due to the efforts of the both of you. You were relaxed and open and Elvis was only rocking back and forth into you, no complete pulling, you couldn’t handle that yet.
With each rock of his hips, you let out a little breath or squeak. For a moment you lost focus as you watched the way Elvis used the thumb on one hand to stroke your little bud while using his other hand to stroke himself, but you were pulled back into your moment with Elvis as he groaned lowly, followed by a groan that sounded a bit more throaty. He was close.
And knowing that it was because he was in you made you feel a sense of excitement, and sense of sexuality, realizing you could make a man feel this way by doing nothing but laying there like a pliant doll.
Be a pliant wife. Your mother was right.
Your hips dragged upward slightly, crashing into his hips that were rocking down into you, the collision of skin made you moan softly as your manicured nails reached for the sheets, one hand gripped them brutally while your other hand ended up in Elvis' hair, not gripping, only carding through the dark strands.
“E-Elvis, it’s- I’m…”
You couldn’t describe it, what was coming, but thankfully you didn’t have to as he mumbled into your lips,
“I know Baby, I know. It’s comin’ f’me to, comin’ fast Babylove- H-how’s it comin’ for you?”
As the upward grind of your hips turned to little upward thrusts that your feet could manage on the slippery sheets of the bed you could hardly choke out a word as his thumb had entertained that warmth just below your stomach for too long, it’d been teased and tugged along far too long from the rubbing of his thumb on your little bundle of nerves that at its peaking point, it snapped, leaving you to try and choke out the words,
“It- I- It’s-”
As your mouth remained agape but your voice fell silent, and those pitiful attempts at thrusts of yours fell back to wishful grinds of your hips. Elvis thanked the Lord, he’d been trying his best to hold on for you, to slow his rocking when he felt himself get a little too close, he’d been edging himself almost the entire time for you.
And now as he pulled out and continued to stroke his cock with one hand, the hand previously fondling your clit reached for the pair of panties he laid aside so long ago.
As you caught your breath you watched as Elvis’ hand stroked twice, thrice, four more times along his length before he buried his cock in your crumpled up panties, letting his head fall back and a guttural moan fill the room as he reached his peak.
After a few moments of silence accompanied by the pants of the both of you Elvis removed the metal ring holding his short ascot scarf together at the center of his neck, you heard a clink as he tossed it somewhere on the wood floor, then you watched as the fabric got closer to your face, closing your eyes at the contact you could feel Elvis wiping away the dampness building on your head and cheeks from the heat what you just experienced. As the feeling left you watched as he wiped his own face off before bringing the satin scarf down to your petals, wiping off the proof of your pleasure from your pussy’s lips then wiping off your thighs that happened to be the victims of the heated juices that spread through your body which were shoveled out from the earlier pulls of Elvis’ cock’s head.
After Elvis caught his breath and pulled the panties away from his cock to see his work, then he flipped it toward you, and you saw that familiar white liquid that Elvis told you was a reward for your hard work.
“When we get married and I fill you with my seed, this is what I’ll be fillin’ ya with, I promise…”
Your eyes were lidded and tired, but full of love as you took in the sight of your fiancé, his once perfectly coiffed hair now ruffled, you could see sweat stains forming on the blue silk shirt he didn’t bother to take off before starting, and those eyelashes of his must’ve been batting so much as he now had a stray on his cheek, he must’ve missed it with his scarf.
As Elvis prepped your reward, scraping it off the pastel fabric with a finger you parted your lips, and as he finger-fed you his seed you accepted the finger into your mouth, closing your lips around it as you sucked it clean. “Atta girl, did so well”
Your own little finger guided up his cheek to swipe the eyelash off his cheek, he watched with confusion at the way you smiled around his finger, then you flipped your finger around to show him.
As he crawled over your body to lay down beside you, removing his finger in the process you spoke with a bit of hoarseness, “Make a wish”
Elvis smiled fondly and put a hand over your thigh, “You can have this one Babylove”
You smiled before checking once more, “Are you sure?”
He wanted to laugh at how serious you were taking it all, and with a gentle rub of his hand he reassured, “I’m sure Honey, I’m sure”
You smiled down at the little eyelash resting on the middle of your index finger. And you wished for all that you could want, you wished for a happy marriage.
I had so much fun!! I really liked writing this, and I'm so happy I've had requests to write this character to the point I can turn it into a whole au!! hope you liked it.
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@fadedsummerlove, @lialocklear, @astral-eyed-cat here it is lovelies
#elvis presley x reader#elvis fanfiction#elvis x you#elvis presley#elvis presley fic#elvis fanfic#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis x reader#elvis presley smut#elvis x oc#elvis presley fandom#elvis presley fanfic#elvis imagine#elvis fans#elvis presley x you#elvis presley x reader smut#elvis smut#elvis fluff#elvis presley imagine#elvis presley fluff#elvis fic#elvis presley fan fic#elvis presley x oc#Baby Love#elvis fandom#elvis film
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BIRTHDAY BOY
(one shot)
PAIRINGS: Elvis Presley x wife! Reader
WARNINGS: tooth rotting fluff! Not proofread, clingy reader, no use of y/n, slight angst (Elvis thinks reader forgot his birthday), surprise party, kissing, pet names, the Memphis mafia been goofballs
NSFW WARNINGS: p in v sex, oral (m receiving), slight ball play ig?, light choking, hair pulling, daddy kink (duhh), cream pie, breeding kink, lingerie
sorry if I missed anything!! And happy birthday to the king of rock n’ roll<3
˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚
The entire day you and Elvis’ Memphis mafia have been planning is birthday party. His dad even started helping out.
It was going to be spectacular. You’d ordered a large 5 layered cake with buttercream frosting and strawberries, and written on top in cursive was ‘long live the king’ with a little 25 under it.
The house was decorated in head to toe with gold and white streamers, balloons, confetti, and any other kind of decor you could imagine fit for the king of rock n’ roll.
Elvis Presley had been gone for a week, taking on an acting gig in Florida, Miami. You missed him dearly, but you knew he was coming home today. Every time he called one of the house phones who would always chat your ear off on how much he wanted to see you. You’d think he had separation anxiety (he does).
The warmth of his voice on the line brought endless smiles to your face, and his amazing voice made giggles erupt from your throat. Everything about him shined, inside and out. He was beautiful, and a very charismatic man.
He had a certain feel about him. In a way where everyone would stop what they were doing just to catch a glimpse of him. He could hold an entire rooms attention and keep it, and sometimes he didn’t even realize it. People looked at him as if he were a god, and hell, maybe he was.
Elvis was a giving man. If you knew him, then you’d know that he shined so bright, he made the people around him shine, too. And to Elvis, you shined the most. He adored you. Every little thing about you was imperfectly perfect to him in just the right ways.
Elvis was a good husband, despite what people in the press have said. He takes care of you more than he takes care of himself, and he does it with a smile on his face and love in his heart that he only holds for you.
Elvis always told you that you were his angel. You were sent by the heavens to watch over him, guide him and love him for all he is after his mother died. You healed him and changed a broken, distraught man into the brightest star.
But you knew it was the other way around.
You found each other in a hopeless state, but together you overcame it and helped each other. Elvis was always kind to you, even if you two had petty little arguments, he’d always make it up to you by showering you in kisses with little ‘I’m sorrys’. How could you not forgive him when he was the sweetest man you’d ever met?
He remembered every anniversary. Every birthday. Every Valentine’s Day. He showered you in gifts, attention, dates, and never shut up about you in the press. You were sure interviews were sick and tired of him ranting on about how ‘good of a wife’ you are like a lovesick puppy, but it filled you with butterflies knowing he held you in such high regards.
Elvis was your person, and you were his. You’d known that since the day you met, and the day he popped the big question on a Thursday night in Hawaii confirmed it. It’s been bliss since you’d known him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
But now, you sat nervously on the couch, biting down on your manicured nails nervously.
You hadn’t answered any of the 4 times Elvis has called you, and you knew he’d be worried by now. It was his birthday, and you felt bad because you didn’t want to upset him—but the surprise will be all worth it.
You wore his favorite outfit. A light blue, low cut dress that ended mid thigh, paired with black marry janes and white socks that sat a few inches below your knees. You also wore a white pearl necklace that acted as a light choker, and to top it all off, a silver chain sat secured gracefully on your neck that read ‘E.P’. A beautiful necklace your lover gifted to you for your 2nd anniversary.
But you wore a secret under your pretty little dress that Elvis would surely adore later tonight.
“Everyone, I just got word that Elvis is down the road, get in your places!” Gunner, a mutual friend of you and Elvis, shouted. You quickly took your place around the corner from the door, so you could be the first person he sees when he walks through the large entrance.
The lights were turned off and the room was silent as you heard booming footsteps come up the familiar stairs of Gracelands’ entrance.
You sucked in a breath of air as the door swung open, and you could already feel his suffocating presence in the house.
“Baby?! Where ya at?!” He yelled out, his voice laced with concern as he began to move towards the stairs, assuming you were in your shared bedroom. You giggled a little, and Elvis’ head snapped to your direction. You’d been caught.
“Surprise! Happy birthday, honey!” You yelled out, along with everyone else. Elvis let out a breath of air he’d been holding in for what felt like all day. No matter how many times he’s left home, weeks on end, you’d never gone not one day without calling him and tellin’ him all about your boring day without him around.
He drug a hand down his face with a groan, followed by a deep chuckle as your body collided with his in a tight hug. He kissed the top of your head, and finally, you’d felt his arms around you again. And it’s was as if all of his love visibly seeped into you.
“Was so worried, satin. Thought somethin’ bad happened to ya.” He huffed out with furrowed brows. You laughed as you cupped his face in your dainty hands. “Nothin’ bad happened, Elvis. Just wanted to give you a lil surprise is all.” You muttered as you brought his face down to your level, giving him the tenderest of kisses.
You tasted like vanilla on his tongue, mixed with cherry from the cherry lollipop you always had in your mouth. Elvis wasn’t sure how you hadn’t gotten a cavity from it yet. Your hair smelled like fresh rose water, and he knew it was from your annual bath-soakings full of the best rose petals money can buy and scented bath bombs.
You were warm against him, your small body molding and fitting perfectly against him. He loved you. God, did he love you. His baby. His love. His wife. The woman he plans to bear his children. He couldn’t get enough of you
“I got you a cake, Elvis.” You smiled up at him. You were the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Your smile was contagious to him, as he felt a grin spread across his face. “Yeah, lemme see it, baby.” He said.
You clapped your hands together, exited to see his reaction of the large cake, decorated to perfection. You took his large hand in yours and dragged him to where everyone else was in the dining room. On the table sat the cake, and Elvis felt his eyes widen at the mere heigh of it.
“Woah, that’s a lot of sugar, honey.” He chuckled out as he walked closer to take a good look. “Look at the top, El.” You urged. Like a good husband, he obliged and a chuckle rumbled in his chest.
“I love it, baby.” He said as he walked over and tightly hugged you, slightly lifting you off the ground in the process. “I’m glad! I hoped you would.” You said happily.
He didn’t have a chance to respond before the Memphis mafia swept him away from you. “Sharing is caring!” They yelled with loud boyish chuckles as they went to the pool room. Elvis mounted an ‘im sorry’, to which you merely giggled.
All throughout the night Elvis was occupied with his family and friends celebrating. You knew you shouldn’t, but you had to admit that you felt kind of neglected. In more ways than one.
He’d looked so unbelievably handsome all night, and you couldn’t help but become all hot and bothered as the night continued. You watched him play pool with his friends, his arms were exposed and fit. Elvis was no muscle maniac, but he had just the right amount for your mouth to start watering like a bitch in heat at the sight.
You finally built up enough courage to speak up about it as you walked over to where he stood in all his glory. His back was now facing you as you lightly gripped his arm to grab his attention, making him spin around to look at you.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, his accent thick. You grew shy as his friends grazed in on the interaction, being nosy. You chewed on the bottom of your lip, and Elvis understood as he slightly leaned down is you could whisper into his ear. “M horny, Elvis.” You muttered, barely just loud enough for him to hear.
Elvis lightly hummed. “S that right?” He asked, and you nodded in confirmation. “Alright, don’t worry, sugar, I’ll take care of ya.” He stated.
“I’m done for the night, fellas.” He said as he tangled his fingers with yours, pulling you away from the group of men. They whistled knowingly, followed by a few hollers, making your cheeks flush red and bury yourself in Elvis’ side. He chuckled as his arm wrapped around you, walking up the stairs to your shared room.
He opened the door for you and flicked the lamp light on. “I got another surprise for you.” You muttered, shy under his gaze. He peered down at you. “Yeah? What is it, baby?” He asked, his breathing heavy.
You began to slide your dress off of your shoulders, below your breasts and down your hips before letting it fall to the floor beneath you. Elvis’ mouth watered at the sight and he felt his pants tighten uncomfortably, his slacks suddenly becoming too tight in his crotch area.
There you stood, in a baby pink lingerie set. Floral and lacy, nipples and pussy barely covered by flimsy fabric. Your thighs covered in garters with little pink flowers embroidered onto them delicately. What made Elvis go over the edge though, is when you turned around to show him your perky ass.
In cursive, sat nice and pretty was ‘Elvis Presley’.
He felt like he could cum in his pants right then and there.
“D-do you like it?” You asked, nervous at his silence. He scoffed. “Like it? Baby, i fuckin’ love it.” He said, spinning your around to face him before sliding his hands past your waist, down to your ass, tightly squeezing both of your ass cheeks.
You bit your lip as you looked up at him. “Yeah?” You whispered as his leaned down. “Fuck yes.” He muttered before his lips crashed down onto yours in a heated kiss.
It was sloppy as your tongues tangled with each other, you fighting for some kind of dominance that you knew Elvis wouldn’t allow. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, making him groan, biting your lip in retaliation. His hands squeezing the fat of your ass tighter, gripping you impossibly closer to him.
“Let me make you feel good, Elvis.” You breathed out against his lips. He merely clicked his tongue. “Hm?” He asked again. Your legs rubbed together, slick coating both of your inner thighs.
“Please let me make you feel good, daddy.” You repeated, more desperately this time. He groaned in satisfaction. “Good girl, go ahead, baby.” He urged.
You dropped to your knees and watched as he unbuttoned his pants, letting them drop to the floor. You licked your lips at the sight of his leaking cock, standing hard and ready for you in any way you can take him. He was long and girthy, balls hung, seemingly painfully full. Your core ached to relieve him.
You licked around his tip before licking his slit that leaked slaty pre-cum, and his hiss was enough for you to suck his tip into your mouth. “Fuck!” He yelped out as you sucked harshly, before taking him deeper into your mouth.
You bobbed your head up and down, your hands reaching to fondle his aching balls. If there was one thing you knew how to do, it was giving mind blowing, other worldly head. Your little mouth drove Elvis beyond crazy, wether it be for talking shit or having his cock in it.
His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you effortlessly deep throated his cock, and you felt him throb in your mouth. You gagged around him, making him throw his head back and let out a desperate moan.
“Yess, fuck! Just like that, honey. Suckin’ your husbands cock so well. Takin’ such good care of me.” He breathed out. You knew he was about to cum as his fingers found their way in your large hair, gripping tightly. “M gonna cum, baby. Shit.” He moaned out.
Your mouth moved to suck one of his balls into your mouth and your hand moved quickly to stroke his needy cock. Your hand moved fast, your fist tight around him. It was all too much, the way your mouth sucked his balls in like a vacuum and your hand stroking his hand at a quickening pace.
His cum spurted from his cock, and your mouth shot up just in time to get it in your mouth. You sucked his tip, milking him of all the cum he had stored away in his heavy balls. “Holy fuck, you’re so fuckin’ good, soso good f’me.” He said, mouth hung agape as you released his tip with a loud ‘pop’.
You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show him the cum that rested on your tongue. He licked his lips and felt his cock harden again. “Swallow.” He said. And like the good little wife you are, you listened..
“Good girl. Now, getcha’ lil ass on the bed n’ bend over f’daddy.” He said as he helped you to your feet, slapping your ass playfully as you passed by him to the bed, making you giggle.
You bent over, legs spread enough so he could see the thin string covering your pussy that was now a darker shade of pink from your juices. “Look at you, all nice n pretty. All this for me, sweetheart?” He asked as he slipped the thin string to the side.
You nodded your head feverishly. “Yes, daddy. M’only wet f’you.” You muttered as you teased your ass into the air, pushing it towards him. He swatted your asses harshly, once, twice, before he lined himself to your entrance.
He teased his tip into you, making you groan. “Please, please, please—“ you chanted like it was a prayer. His hand snapped to your hair, leaning your head back. “You take what I give you, wife.” He muttered as he tenderly kissed your forehead.
“Yes, daddy, m’sorry.” You muttered out, gasping as you felt his cock enter you without warning. His tip kissed your cervix, and your mouth hung open, throat going dry. “Shit, so tight. Grippin’ my cock so good.” He huffed out.
“E-Elvis!” You whimpered out, the sting making your eyes water. His heart ached at the sound of you in any kind of pain. He peppered sweet kisses along your spine and on your shoulders in reassurance. “S okay, m’ gon’ take care of ya, don’t worry.” He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.
Your stomach felt like it was doing summer salts and butterflies exploding in it all at once. You loved him more than words could ever describe and nothing in the world would ever change the way he made you feel, even 5 years deep into marriage, he still makes you fall in love with him all over again.
A wave of pleasure consumed you as you felt him re-enter you, picking up his pace at pounding into your throbbing cunt. “Elvis! Fuck! Just like that!” You moaned out.
Every time his hips slammed into yours, you released little ‘ahs’. The sound was like music to his ears. Knowing he was making you feel good, made him feel at least 20x better. If there was one thing he took pride in, it was pleasing his woman in every way he could.
“Gonna fill this lil pussy, you want that? Hm? Want me to fill you with my babies?” He asked, his hands gripped your hips. “Yes, yes, please! Need your cum in me, daddy!” You groaned.
He pulled out of you, flipping you around before re-entering you. “Wanna see you when we cum, yeah? Gon’ see ya beautiful fuckin’ face, honey.” He moaned out as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.
He was pussy drunken and his mind was fuzzy as your walls squeezed him in a vice grip. He didn’t know how much longer he would last. “Daddy! M’gonna cum, fuck m’gonna cum!” Your voice high pitched, and your head thrown back. Elvis brought his hand up to your neck, squeezing your throat just enough to make you see stars when it was paired with his piercing cock.
“Need you.” You whimpered out, grabbing at his free hand. A thing you did that Elvis thought was the cutest thing, and adored so much, was that every time you came on his cock, you made sure to hold his hand. It comforted you and Elvis loved it as he reached his high. “I’m right here, satin. Gon’ fill this cunt.” He said, biting his lip.
“Oh!” You moaned out as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, covering Elvis’ lower abdomen in your vile juices just as he painted the inside of your walls white with his seed.
He fucked you through your orgasm, and you could feel each time his cock spurted out a new round of cum inside of you. His balls tightening as your sweet pussy milked him, and all he could think about was how nice and round you’ll be with his babies. The perfect wife.
Your hand reached up to lovingly cup his face, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his bitten lips.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚
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#elvis presley#elvis presley fandom#70s elvis#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley x reader#elvis x oc#stvolanis#elvis presley x y/n#elvis x reader#elvis fans#elvis the pelvis#elvisaaronpresley#elvis the king#60s elvis#50s elvis#elvis music#elvis history#elvis presely smut#elvis photos
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Magic Man
Summary: Elvis breaks in a virgin.
Word count: ~2,200 words of pure, unadulterated smut inspired by this post. This is purely a work of fiction, and from what I have read of how Elvis actually treated his lovers in real life, is probably a lot less tender and loving than the actual Elvis would have been. But it's make believe and fun, so enjoy it!
Warnings: 20 year age gap, dubious consent at some points, full intercourse, course language. Somewhat callous treatment of Elvis' taste for younger women.
His bedroom is a gilded cage, dripping with excess and the stench of hedonism. Elvis's entourage has left them alone, finally, after weeks of teasing glances and knowing winks. Tonight, it’s just him and his prey—sweet little Molly van Patton. All night, she’s tried to resist, but his primal aura is too strong to deny. He’s charming. Dangerous. A seasoned, world-famous rock star. And she's just a 19-year-old innocent, trembling on the edge of womanhood. Just like he likes ‘em.
Their meeting felt like some sort of strange, cosmic joke. She wasn’t a fan, hadn’t even intended to go see his show. But her best friend convinced her, one thing led to another, and now here she is, somehow lying in his colossal bed like a tiny helpless creature, her presence filling him with a burning desire to crush and destroy.
Now, he traces his lips down her neck, pausing to nuzzle at the hollow of her collarbone. Sweetly at first, then more insistently as she drags long, jagged breaths. Molly can’t help but gasp under the full weight of him, her body opening up in ways she’s never experienced before. It’s heady and intoxicating and dangerous and delicious and—
Oh. Oh.
Each touch sets off an electric current, making her arch closer. She runs her fingers through the thick hair on his chest, feeling the cool metal of his gold lion's head medallion pressed against her own breasts. But as he reaches for her waistband, she hesitates.
“Stop,” Molly trembles. Heat flushes her cheeks. "I’m not… I don’t…"
Elvis nuzzles her neck. His hand is dangerously close to unzipping her skirt. He’s in a taking mood tonight.
“Please,” she pleads. “Won’t they know what we’re doing in here?”
Elvis chuckles, a low, deep rumbling sound that vibrates through her very bones. “Baby, they don’t care. They’re probably already placing bets on how long you’ll last.”
Molly's heart plummets into her stomach. Of course they knew. All those knowing glances and hushed whispers, they’d known all along. Her face flushes and it's all she can do to grab her things and run.
But Elvis doesn't give her time to process this newfound knowledge. His insistent lips find her earlobe, nibbling it lightly as he whispers lewd suggestions she can't comprehend but her body understands. Against her better judgment, heat pools between her legs, and she bites back a moan of desire.
"Just one more," Elvis purrs, his voice thick with want, sending shivers down Molly's spine. "One more’n I'll stop.”
But one more turns into two, and then three, and before she knows it, she’s powerless under him. She feebly attempts to push him away, but his strong arms grasp her tighter. His grip is firm but not quite enough to leave bruises. Not yet at least. But she knows it’s coming. Braces for it. His lips find her neck again.
The heat between her thighs grows unbearable, and she clenches them together, as if that could stop the freight train that is Elvis Presley. As if it could cool the fire raging through her veins. She’s never felt so alive, so free, so needed and… so scared, as she does tonight in his arms. But as he inches lower, kiss by agonizing kiss awakening something primal inside her, Molly panics.
This is really happening.
She’s about to give herself to a man she barely knows, a man nearly twenty years her senior. One who could crush her like a fly if he wanted to. Her heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline coursing as she manages to shove him off.
“No!” she cries out, the word catching in her throat. Molly’s outburst gives Elvis pause. Hurt and confusion flash across his face as he pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow.
“What is it?” his voice is gruff but not unkind.
Molly turns her face away, cheeks flaming. How can she tell him? That despite her adventurous friend and all the talk, she's never actually… that he would be her first.
Elvis regards her steadily. Impossibly long black lashes curtain the genuine concern in his eyes. Molly's pulse throbs in her ears.
"Please don't make me say it," she whispers finally. Molly squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. But a single drop escapes, trailing down her cheek.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "It's just… I've never…"
Understanding dawns on Elvis' face. He brushes the tear from her face with surprising tenderness.
"Never been with a man before?" he asks gently.
Molly shakes her head, a furious blush creeping up her neck. She expects anger, derision, rejection. For him to throw her out and call for the next girl.
But instead, Elvis tips her chin up to look at him. "Oh honey," he murmurs. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Molly's breath catches in her throat as Elvis regards her with unexpected tenderness. His hands, which moments before seemed so insistent, now caress her face and arms with featherlight touches.
"I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elvis shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Oh darlin', that don't matter one bit to me. I want you, Molly girl. I want to make you feel real good."
He drags his thumb over her bottom lip and Molly shivers. She knows she should leave, should find Doreen and book it out of there before she does something reckless. But the way Elvis is looking at her, like she's the only woman in the world… it makes her feel powerful. Desired. Dangerous.
She... likes it?
"Just relax and lemme take care of you," Elvis murmurs, his breath hot against her ear. With that, the last of her resolve melts.
His hands, knowing and sure, explore her curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moans, melting into him, her body betraying her. She's scared, yes, but she's also aching for more. He senses her hesitation, easing her back even further, parting her thighs with a tenderness belied by the impressive size of his hands. His eyes are hungry, admiring the perfect, trembling creature before him.
"You're so beautiful," he breathes, running a calloused finger along her jawline. His words were like sweet poison, both thrilling and terrifying. "Shh, baby," he coos, "I gotcha."
He kisses her, his lips firm yet gentle, as if he can taste her innocence. Her first kiss, her first everything, all with him. She was born for him.
*
His lips trail down her breasts, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Molly arches into the sensation, the soft scratch of his stubble against her skin. His hand slides down to her stomach, fingertips tracing the sensitive flesh just below her belly button.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asks hoarsely. She shakes her head, unable to form words. "Say it, Molly girl." He presses a kiss to her hip bone, nipping lightly at it.
"No," she gasps. "Don't stop."
He smiles against her skin. "Good girl," he purrs before lowering his mouth to where she's aching for him most.
His tongue flicks forward, teasing her entrance and Molly cries out, her fingers curling into the silk sheets. She looks down at him—somewhere down there—through one open eye.
"Is that what... are you supposed to be—"
Before she can finish her sentence, his hands grip her thighs. Fear and desire battle within her, but desire wins out as curious pecks and licks turn into long, languid strokes. Bracing himself, Elvis feasts on her, like she's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. She finally opens her eyes and there he is in all his glory: lapping at her, coaxing the desire out of her body and onto his waiting tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through her. "Oh God," she whuffs out, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice wonders what everyone else must be thinking. But then Elvis's tongue buries itself deep within again, soft and wet, and all thoughts vanish into thin air. His hands grip the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her closer to him as he laps at her vulnerable center. She's never felt anything like this before, the pleasure so unbearable it hurts.
"That's it, baby," he growls into her glistening pussy, "ride it out."
And she does. His tongue flicks and swirls, plunging inside her, mimicking what she imagines is his impressive length.
By now, the whole house must hear her moans, but she doesn’t care. She’s coming undone whether she wants to or not, and she’s never felt more alive.
“Oh, Elvis,” she moans, her voice high and desperate, “Oh, I—”
Molly van Patton shudders and bucks against him, her first ever orgasm coursing through her body like wildfire. He doesn't stop though, not until she's sobbing and spent, her juices coating his face. He looks up at her through hooded lids, a satisfied smirk on his full lips.
“I ain’t done with you yet.”
*
He moves up her body, his manhood hard and throbbing against her thigh. Her entrance flutters in anticipation, and Elvis smiles at the sight. He positions himself there, large and intimidating.
“Relax, li’l girl,” he whispers in her ear. “I’ll be real gentle.” Molly looks up at him, eyes wide, pleading.
“You sure you want this?”
She nods dutifully.
“Say it f’me, now.”
“I want you inside me.”
That’s all he needs. Before she can take it back, he slides in an inch, and then another. He’s so big, stretching her so wide she’s certain she’ll split in half. Certain he'll pierce her and she'll never be the same again. Tears leak from her eyes, mixing with the mascara from earlier.
“Shh,” he soothes, “I got you.” His accent is thicker than usual, sweet like molasses. Slowly, bit by excruciating bit, Elvis works himself inside her tight heat. Molly bites her lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway.
At that, Elvis groans, and then he’s entering her more and more until he bottoms out. He's still for a moment, ensuring she can truly take in all of his length. “Tell me how it feels,” he grunts, as he slowly picks up speed.
“It hurts,” she pants out. But it’s a delectable sort of hurt. He’s filling her up in ways she never thought possible. Each thrust has her teeth bitting his shoulder tighter.
“I know, baby,” he coos into her ear, “but it gets better, I promise.”
And somehow, it does. The pain eases and is replaced with a delicious ache that has her hips rocking towards his.. Heat pools in her belly as he claims her with every thrust, like she was made for him and only him.
“You’re so tight,” he moans. “Made for me.”
It’s a mantra, a vow, as a he pistons in and out, breaking her in with every stroke. Her climax from before was nothing compared to this. She’s soon whimpering, clawing at his back, an evil sob stuck in her throat.
"That's it, baby," he pants, "give it all to me."
Elvis pulls out swiftly, leaving Molly empty and aching. In one smooth motion, he flips her over onto her stomach.
"On your knees," he commands.
Molly whimpers but obeys, presenting herself to him on all fours. Elvis groans at the sight, gripping her hips tightly.
He enters her from behind in one powerful thrust. Molly cries out, the new angle allowing him to penetrate her even deeper. Elvis sets a ruthless pace, pounding into her relentlessly.
The sound of slapping flesh fills the air as he claims her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. He hits a spot deep inside that has Molly seeing stars. She pushes her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough.
"That's right, take it," Elvis growls. His breathing is labored in her ear, hot and ragged. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping onto her shoulder blades, but he doesn’t relent. “You’re taking me so good. You love it, don’t you?”
She does. Oh, God, does she ever. Fuck it. If this was wrong, she didn’t want to be right.
He keeps pounding into her, and it's dizzying and intoxicating all at once. The room spins as she clings to the headboard for dear life, his name a curse on her lips, a talisman against the building pleasure-pain coiling in her core. His pace quickens, hot breath on her neck, and his thick chest hair tickling her back.
“El… vis…” she mewls. “Right there!”
He obliges, his expert hands massaging her swollen clit as he pounds into her from behind.
“Yeah, just like that,” he rasps as Molly bucks against him, working the length of his cock with her slick and pushing her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough. It shocks him how quickly she took to his cock. Elvis’ fingers dig almost painfully into her hips, urging her on. “That’s right, take what you need.”
"Elvis, I..."
The pressure builds, coiling in her belly like a spring. “That’s my girl, let it go,” he growls in her ear, and that’s all it takes.
Her body explodes into a million stars, tightening around him as she screams her release. Just like that, it hits her all at once—from heaven and hell itself, crashing over her like a tidal wave and even more powerful than the first. Colors dance behind her eyelids.
Elvis’ nails dig into her back, and she can feel the delicious sting as they break the skin. “Unnngh,” he grunts, “I’m fuckin’ close.” The filthy words spur her on, and she clenches around him, the fluttering of her walls easing up, and suddenly she’s slowly floating back to earth and back to life and back to his gigantic bed in his gigantic mansion in Memphis, Tennessee. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.
He growls and buries himself even deeper, his thrusts erratic and desperate now. Harder and harder until he, too, splinters apart, shattering inside her like stained glass. He grunts, his release warm and sticky deep inside her.
Later, Elvis cocoons Molly in his strong arms and starts to rock her gently. As she drifts off to sleep, she knows there's no going back.
She's his now, body and soul. That’s the price she paid for giving in to her darkest desire.
#elvis presley#elvis#elvis fanfic#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis fanfiction#elvis fans#elvis presley fanfic#elvis presley fic#elvis x oc#elvis fic#elvis smut#elvis presley smut#big daddy elvis
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down home southern cookin'
fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley
rating: m
pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician/handyman ) x female original character
word count: 3069
warnings: housewife kink. big daddy elvis. pregnant sex. minor pregnancy kink and breastfeeding kink. sex around food ( the food isn't harmed ). p in v sex ( unprotected ). minor praise kink. talk of sweat. bags thumping on floors making you feel things.
author’s note: welcome to day 14 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, breastfeeding kink with spark elvis and lilly. so, hi. i've been having a rough go around on actually finishing the main fic but i have made a bit more progress after moving past the block i've had formed for a while. that being said, enjoy this little one shot in the meantime. also if you have no idea what this series/verse is, the masterlist is right here. in addition, i truly do thrive on your comments and messages and love reading them.
"Is that meatloaf 'm smellin' darlin'?"
Lilly hears the door open before she ever hears Elvis's voice but at the sound of his voice, she can feel their children inside her move about, kicking and trying to roll around. It's been getting harder and harder to bend to reach the oven but she manages well enough, free hand on her belly as she opens the oven.
Elvis's thudding steps tell Lilly that he's heading to the kitchen to investigate not entirely unlike a bloodhound and she smiles softly to herself even as the twin she has taken to calling Gladys kicks her square in the rib. Her hand rubs at the spot as she stays bent over looking into the oven when she hears Elvis's whistle, low and appreciative.
"Wasn't expectin' that sorta greetin'. Ain't complainin', though." His voice is pitched low as she hears his bag thump on the floor. The thought of moving to a standing position enters Lilly's mind and yet she's just that slight bit curious as to what Elvis plans on doing.
After all, wasn't the proof of his appreciation for her backside growing healthy and strong within her? Wasn't his appreciation for a warm meal evident by the way so many of her dresses are slightly ruined? Wasn't he her husband not just in theory but in name?
It doesn't take long for her to feel the press of his front against her behind, the warmth of his body seeping through her dress. His hand moves to cup her stomach as he guides her into a standing position, nipping at her ear as she does. "They givin' ya trouble? Gotta get a lecture from Daddy?"
Lilly's laughter is always music to Elvis's ears and today is no exception. His lips curl into a soft smile as he kisses down her neck, hands wandering across her body. She makes no move to remove them. "They only started giving me trouble when they heard you."
"That so?" Elvis hums as one of his hands settles on her breast, squeezing it just light enough that Lilly's mouth falls open in a gasp. "They just missed their daddy as much as their mama did, didn't they? Jus' wanted to say hello."
He's not wrong, Lilly reasons. Jesse is the same way, trying to come crawling at the sound of his Daddy's voice as soon as he hears it if Elvis doesn't beat the boy to it. Still, there's nothing that says she has to boost her husband's ego any more than it already is tonight. It makes it easy to just hum quietly with a small grin on her face.
"They missed daddy, I don't know if mama did." Lilly teases even as she feels Elvis's hand tighten on her breast and feels the hand that had been cupping her lower stomach move ever so slightly lower. "I had the best company all day."
A huff of his warm breath tickles the hair on the back of her neck as he starts to use his hand to pull up her dress. "Jesse asleep?"
He knows it's too early for Jesse to be asleep, knows that Lilly keeps his son up just so that he can give him a kiss goodnight and help get him ready for bed even if he ran late arriving home. Yet, he feels the need to ask, to make sure Jesse isn't crawling around underfoot in a way that gets him into trouble. Elvis knows he should be a good husband and take a shower and make it so Lilly can rest her aching little sooties. Even with them not in heels he can see them a little swollen and he's sure if he touched them they'd be pounding. Elvis knows he should be a good husband like he always is and yet he can feel his cock swelling up in his jumpsuit. Seeing Lilly- seeing his *wife* bent over making food for him all while so *full* of him does something to him. It'd do something to any man worth his salt. Maybe he'd ask Charlie or Jerry how they feel about their wives when they've been pregnant. Though, Jerry's answer is damn nearly explained with his new niece or nephew Melly's got growing inside of her.
His cock had gotten them into this mess, first with her and him against the sink and even know their twins were merely the result of his cock seeing her backside as she bathed Jesse. If he were a different man, if he were the man he was almost two years ago he'd be embarrassed, mortified that his cock's acting like it's attached to a twenty year old. And yet, right now all he can think about is how thankful he is for it. Thankful it's proven its worth to satisfy Lilly in ways he knows now she had craved during her previous marriage. Thankful it's proven its worth by providing him with a healthy gift from God of a son and hopefully healthy strong little ones in a couple of months.
"You know he's awake," Lilly murmurs, moving closer to the sink for some leverage to lean on. "Wouldn't dream of putting our baby boy to sleep without letting him say goodnight to his Daddy." She pauses and leans back against Elvis, his body heat seeping through his jumpsuit and her dress. She can feel the sweat of the day on his skin and it should be nauseating and off putting but as she inhales deeply she merely smells the unique scent of her husband. A shiver passes through her. "What are you really trying to ask, Elvis?"
An idea of what he wants is on the tip of her tongue but she doesn't want to be too forward even after a child was born that was conceived in the strangest of ways or after he pleasured her with a garden hose. No, somehow asking him point blank if he was trying to enjoy what was between her legs was too much.
"If you'd let me- If ya'd mind bendin' over again. Or if ya'd mind if I put ya between the sink and me. Mindin' the yittle ones, course."
Lilly wonders if the way Elvis talks to her and the way Elvis seems to be completely and utterly in love with every part of her is ever going to get old. If it'll ever stop making her heart race and ever stop making her lose her breath. Maybe it's just because she had gotten so used to things with Nathan that it's still novel. The twins inside her do their own separate flips as she licks her lips.
"Minding them, of course." Her voice sounds airy, like it's floating into the air as she tries to remember how to breathe. "Facing you, right?"
Not looking out the window, pleasure crossing her face at every moment as she leaned against him, her legs too shaky to support the weight of her body. Not facing the window, watching the sun go down on another day, wishing this could be her afternoons forever more. No, she'd be able to face Elvis, see his face as it scrunched up when he grunted inside of her. She'd be able to see how he works up such a sweat that it drips down on her as they fuck. It's not that she hasn't since they've been married but this is another thing entirely. This is being able to see how Elvis's face looked like when he pleasured her against the sink almost two years ago. This is a reward for a hard day's work as she cooks their little buns inside of her and cooks a hearty filling meal for him.
His hands finally reach the destination he wants them to, her underwear. A hand slides against her clothed entrance, chuckling at how drenched has already made her. The pregnancy had heightened so many things and yet somehow she surprises him even with this. With a vagina that aches and yearns for him so much it cries out every second it's not filled. He finally speaks.
"Facin' me," his voice is a murmur and a growl as he shifts her underwear to the side just enough to slide his fingers where he knows she wants them. "Maybe I'll even lift ya up on the counter."
Lilly shakes her head, not trusting her mouth's ability to form words. Another time, she figures, when she wasn't carrying these precious little buns inside her. No, she wants to be pinned just as she was that first afternoon. Her hand reaches out to grab at Elvis's wrist, her hand trailing over her swollen stomach, an action watched with rapt attention by Elvis. A quiet but noticeable squelch is heard as he pulls his fingers from her. He opens up his mouth to speak only to watch as he realized something shifted inside of Lilly when she heard that squelch of his fingers. The look she has on her face is one he's gotten to know well both through her pregnancy with Jesse and now her pregnancy with the twins. She wants him and every second that she don't have him she'll get more and more frustrated. His hands move to undo and start to unzip his jumpsuit only to have her swat them away. Lilly's hand are deft little things, suited for sewing and domestic tasks even he struggles with despite his ample skills.
The rush of the cold air against his sweaty chest has him inhaling and has his overheated body shivering just a hair. Lilly's eyes watch the action and take it to mean that she needs to hurry, needs to reach down low enough to free his already swollen cock from the confines of his underwear. Elvis opens up his mouth to speak only to have Lilly's hand finally pull his zipper down low enough to yank down his underwear, his cock bobbing out of them not entirely unlike a goddamn Jack in the Box. Lilly isn't forceful except for these times when she's needy and he's already promised to give her what she needs. How's a man supposed to talk when he sees her hand around his cock, slathering the ample precum across his length.
"Just against it, Elvis. Please," Lily begs ever so softly, though she knows she doesn't need to. Any request she makes of Elvis he does and this would be no exception. She watches as he looks down at her with such a rush of love and clenches her thighs. Her nipples brush against the fabric of her bra and she whimpers at the mere feeling of his hand against her hip as he walks her back against the sink. She needs and wants every bit of him and he's determined to give it to her.
In bed, he would take his time undressing her, watching her dress fall to the floor and watching her ample milk filled breasts spill from her bra. He would suckle at her nipples until he saw her chest heave and her body shake with release. But right now? Right now against the sink he doesn't bother to even pull down her underwear. He should, and yet he can feel how aroused she is and just how she is craving him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she's reminded this isn't proper, that she should insist he take his time and undress her and yet that voice is smothered by realizing no part of their relationship would be considered proper to her two years ago.
His actions make her happy so why should there be any shame attached to them. Her thoughts swirl in her mind with such force that she is caught off guard by Elvis removing her hand and entering her with very little preparation. A choked off sob of pleasure leaves her mouth as she looks up at him.
"Elvis," she whispers, her hands finding purchase on his chest and down his stomach. The hair on his body that rubs up against her skin every time they make love feels different in her hands in this moment, somehow softer while being just a little bit rougher. One of her hands plays with his chest, laughing breathlessly as one of his hands mirrors her, cupping her breast. "You can go— oh."
Elvis knows Lilly like he knows the back of his hand, he figures. Knows what makes his wife turn to pure putty in hands and knows how to have her pleasured in every way she had always deserved to be pleasured. It's easy to figure out just by watching her face and watching how it shifts when he thrusts just right and cups her breasts just right. "I can what, darlin'? Ya want it faster? Want your husband to move faster? Make it so ya comin' faster than anythin'?"
Lilly's eyes drift to the stove for a moment and then to the clock. She should tell him she wants him to take his time. That she wants to feel every thrust and feel his foreskin as it drags inside of her despite how aroused she is. She knows she doesn't have enough time though, knows that in about ten minutes she has to pull the meatloaf from the oven. Her vagina clenches and earns a slight curse from Elvis as he kisses her softly, waiting for an answer.
"We— the meatloaf. I don't want it to burn." As if she needs to explain why she needs him to go faster. "Tonight—If we can it can be slower."
Her skin is flushed and Elvis just takes a moment in between thrusts to marvel at the way it starts at her cheeks and how there's small splotches of it heading down to her chest. He's done that to her, not just the embarrassment she still holds on to about asking just what she would like him to do to her. His perfect wife, his lil darlin' is worried about meatloaf and can't always put into words what she desires. How had he gotten so lucky? How had God saw fit to put the nearest earthly thing to perfection in front of him? How had he found himself married with a son and young ones on the way to this woman?
"Even if 'm not. Ya— ya always know ya can get my engine revving," Elvis's voice is a murmur against Lilly's neck as he kisses and nips at it, his hips quickening their pace. "How long we got, Lil?"
"Nine," she answers, trying to buck against Elvis as best she can with her stomach and his own in the way. "I'll— I've been wanting—"
The words she wants to say are left in her head as his hand drifts down her chest and down her swollen belly to between her legs. Another time and another place she'd question what he's doing but she knows where his hand is headed. She knows before she feels the press of the calloused pads of his fingertips against her throbbing clit. It's been like that nearly all day and she knows better than to take care of it herself on days like this. Knows that what she needs is the warmth of his hands and the roughness of them to bring her to completion. So lost in her own pleasure she nearly misses the words leaving Elvis's lips.
"My perfect wife. My perfect lil darlin'. Takin' care of our yittle one and growing the other yittle buns. Could be like some of the other women and relax, sh—should be like 'em but here you are makin' me dinner and keepin' everythin' as it should be. Gonna show ya how much I love ya for this. How thankful I am for ya."
He pants it against her skin, one hand gripping at her hip while the other works against her clit as she's pinned against the skin. It should hurt, the way the counter digs into her back just a bit but any pain she feels is overtaken by the throbbing between her legs and the scrape of her nipples against her bra. Everything feels so warm and safe and loving that she feels herself starting to reach a crescendo, clawing at his chest before her hands slide to his lower back and down to his behind, pulling him somehow impossibly closer. An almost inhuman noise leaves his lips, a howl and a growl and a groan all mixed into one as he feels her clenching around him.
"That's it, Lilly. That's it my lil darlin'. God— Like a vice—" His words are lost in a haze of her orgasm and his own following closely after. Somehow both of their grips on each other get tighter as they try to catch their breath. Elvis makes sure to not lean too hard on Lilly, careful to protect their children inside of her. Time doesn't have a meaning for either of them until the shrill ring of a timer sounds signalling the fact that the meatloaf is finished.
"I— I need to get that, Elvis." Lilly whispers, still trying to remember how to breathe and walk properly. His only answer is a slow nod as he steps away. It's easy for him to watch Lilly's hips move as she walks the short distance between the sink and oven. A part of him thinks he should turn away when she starts to bend over but then he thinks of how she's leaking his release standing there and how she still likely has to finish one thing or another on the stove. He licks his lips and with a speed that surprises even him, he finds himself on his knees in front of her once she's pulled the meatloaf from the oven and set it down.
"Elvis, what are you— what are you doing?" Her voice is light and her eyes sparkle in a way they only do when she's amused at him and his antics.
In lieu of answering, his large hands grab at the edges of her dress and start to pull it up and up and up until her underwear is exposed to him. It's then and only then that he answers her, looking up through his eyelashes with a practically devilish smirk. "Felt like havin' dessert while you're doin' your work."
taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @marriedtopresley, @memphis-menace, @steph-speaks, @doll-elvis, @vintageshanny, @j-v-9-2, @sexystarfish, @jessicarcates, @chirssycrumble9456789, @shantellescrivener, @yomammalolha, @honey6578, @urmom11111111111119, @myradiaz, @elvispresleyxoxo, @joegramoe, @rainblue-art, @fav-fanficssss, @misspresley, @fallinlovewithurlove, @ash-omalley, @yynneessmons if you're missing from this list, you either changed your username or tumblr is tumblr.
#elvis presley#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley smut#elvis presley fanfic#elvis presley x oc#elvis x lilly#big daddy elvis#big daddy and lil darlin#elvis presley x reader#spark universe#ally writes#ally's wet hot smut summer
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A story where Elvis is protective of you. Maybe something happens to the reader, a guy is hurting her or something and Elvis handles it. Ends with smut 😇
“Looks like Presley’s got himself a little plaything.” — Elvis Presley x reader
Summary: while Elvis is on stage, you get approached and harassed, one of them attempting to get you to come onto him. Elvis finishes his set in perfect time, coming out to find you, only to see what was happening and giving the guy a good punch to the stomach for messing with you. In his dressing room, you can’t help but feel slightly turned on, and so, you and him have a little dressing room quickie.
Pairing: Elvis or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader
Word count: 1,500
Warnings: mild angst, arguments/verbal insults, unwanted attention, mild harassment, F slur used, physical fighting, SMUT, 18+, unprotected sex, probably typos
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Elvis had taken you along with him and his band to a gig at a fair in Louisville. You got to sit in the audience seats during soundcheck when there was no audience, but of course, moved backstage, away from the fans during the show. Before going on stage, Elvis had given you his jacket to wear, partly because you were his girlfriend and he liked seeing you in his clothes, partly because last time he wore a jacket it gone torn off of him by the front row.
Towards the end of his set, you started feeling quite warm, and wandered out the back of the building to get some fresh air.
“Well I’ll be,” You heard an unfamiliar voice. You turned to look, three guys and a couple girls close behind them, looking at you. You glanced away, not particularly interested in whatever they had to say. One of them notices the jacket slung over your shoulders. With a cocky grin, he spoke, “looks like Presley’s got himself a little plaything.”
His companions snickered, egging him on with jeers and taunts. “Yeah, bet you’re just another one of his floozies, ain’t ya? Bet he passes you around like one of his guitars.”
You felt your cheeks burn with indignation, but before you could retort, another one of the group chimed in, “Sweetheart, a faggot like him can’t love you. Come here, don’t be shy now,” he approached you.
He continued as he crept up onto you, “let me, darlin’, come on.”
He reached out to try and touch you, but you slapped his hand away, “don’t you dare touch me!”
Your heart raced with shock and revulsion, but the group only laughed, their lewd behavior escalating, “Let me tell ya, he’s nothing but a glorified hillbilly with a pompadour.”
Just as this guy took a step out of your personal space, the door you had originally come out of swung open, and Elvis stormed out, his presence commanding attention. “Leave her alone,” he demanded, his voice ringing out with authority.
“Woah, don’t get your panties in a twist, fairy.”
Elvis closed the distance between himself and the groups seemed ringleader, “I ain’t gonna warn ya again,” he growled, his voice low.
He faltered for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity in Elvis’ gaze. Sensing an opportunity, Elvis seized the moment, grabbing the guy by the collar and delivering a well-placed punch to his gut.
As your intimidator doubled over in pain, Elvis turned to you, his expression softening. “Come on, darlin’,” he said gently, leading you back inside. You made your way to his dressing room. He gently took the jacket off your shoulders and picked you up, propping you down on the vanity bench, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
He leant close to you, his hands either side of you, peppering apologetic kisses all over your skin.
“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left.” You argued. He shook his head ‘no’ against your shoulder, resting it against you. The smell of his cologne mixed with his sweat from performing met your senses, sending a chill over you. You reached for his hand, moving it to your thigh, mumbling his name.
“Sweetheart,” he spoke softly, his thumb caressing your soft skin. You tugged on his fingertips, pulling them closer to your body, hoping he might take the hint this time. He looked up at you, his eyebrow slightly raised, asking you, do you really want me to?
You nodded, waiting for his kiss. Elvis gazed into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. Finding none, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours as he whispered, “Are you sure, darlin’? Here?”
Your heart pounded with anticipation as you reached up to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. Elvis responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours. The taste of him mixed with the lingering scent of him spun your head in circles. And the way he protected you like that, you were ashamed to think about how much you enjoyed seeing him hurt that guy.
Elvis pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, pressing his hips against yours. You gasped slightly, feeling his erection against you. He brought his kiss back to your lips, smiling through the kiss as you began grinding and writhing against him.
“We gotta be quick,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against your lips as he began to explore the depths of your desire. With practiced ease, he pulled your panties to the side, dipping his finger inside you to test your readiness. Your response was immediate, your knees falling open further in invitation as you arched into his touch, a silent plea for more.
Your hands found their way to the bulge in his pants, fingers dancing over the fabric as you stroked him, coaxing a low groan of pleasure from his lips. Encouraged by your touch, he pressed his thumb to your clit, setting your senses ablaze.
You fiddled with the buttons of his pants, struggling to get them undone. A soft chuckle escaped his lips at your evident distress, and with a gentle touch, he took his hands away, swiftly dropping his pants. You blushed at the sight of him, his cock gently bouncing as he throbbed. With a tender kiss, he brought his lips to yours once more, his touch sending a shiver down your spine as your hand worked to guide his tip to your entrance. Slowly, he pressed himself into you, the tight angle of your position on the countertop causing you to shudder with a mix of pleasure and discomfort.
“Easy, darlin’, there you go,” he spoke, his voice soothing as you leaned back, moving your hands behind you to hold yourself up.
He began to thrust, slow and shallow movements at first. He set a rhythm that was gentle yet deliberate, and despite your initial discomfort, found yourself easing into pleasure as you adjusted to him.
Elvis brought his thumb to his lips, wetting it with his saliva before delicately pressing it against your swollen clit, drawing small, teasing circles that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. As he increased the pace of his thrusts, the sensation intensified, eliciting hushed whines from your voice. Your eyes squeezed shut, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you fought to contain the rising tide of pleasure you felt. You clamped your lips together, desperate to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threatened to spill from your throat, not wanting to draw anyone else in the building’s attention to what you were doing.
“Come,” Elvis growled, his voice low and commanding, “Come on my cock.”
His fingers worked tirelessly on your clit, switching between gentle circles, clockwise and anti-clockwise motions, each touch sending shockwaves of pleasure reverberating through your body. Your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably, your grip on his shirt tightening as you struggled to maintain your composure amidst the overwhelming wave of sensation crashing over you.
He used his other hand to lift your leg up, giving him deeper access. Elvis used his free hand to lift one of your legs, granting him deeper access as he continued to pound into you with an unrelenting rhythm. His movements became increasingly erratic and sloppy, a telltale sign that he was on the brink of his own climax, his primal groans of pleasure mingling with your own as you both teetered on the edge of release.
With a muffled cry, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as waves of pleasure washed over you, consuming you whole. As you reached the peak of your orgasm, your body trembled with the sheer intensity of it all. With each convulsive spasm, you felt your arousal coating his cock, slick and slippery with the evidence of your release.
With a deeper, harder thrust, Elvis leaned his body over yours, his muscles straining with the effort to maintain control as he sought to pleasure you. He was careful not to crush you with his weight, his movements calculated and precise as he continued to thrust into you with a primitive urgency. In a moment of pure abandon, he released himself fully, his body shuddering with the force of his climax as he spilled his orgasm deep inside you. You felt the pulsing of his cock as his hot, sticky cum shot into you, filling you to the brim.
You clung to him desperately, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you reveled in the afterglow. In that moment, as you held each other, you let out an exasperated giggle, “I love you.”
“I love you more.” He replied, kissing your forehead. Slowly pulling himself out of you, the both of you redressed yourselves, taking another moment to breathe.
“Come on, let’s go home,” he muttered, holding the back of your head in his large hand as he kissed your forehead. You nodded, leaning into his body.
#elvis fanfic#elvis film#elvis imagine#elvis smut#elvisaaronpresley#elvis x y/n#elvis x you#elvis x reader#elvis x oc#elvis presley x y/n#elvis presley x you#elvis presley x reader#elvis presley#you x elvis#you x Elvis Presley#reader x elvis#reader x Elvis Presley#yn x austin butler#yn x elvis#austin butler x yn#austin x yn#yn x Elvis Presley#austin!elvis x y/n#y/n x elvis#army elvis#50s elvis#elvis the pelvis#elvis fans#elvis the king#austin butler elvis
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Veils & Vows
Summary - You partake in wedding reception pleasantries while your groom, Elvis takes care of a few business matters. Only when the two of you are back in your hotel room do you get him all to yourself.
Warnings - wedding night sex, oral (f. receiving), p in v, fingering, no protection, smut, missionary sex, mentions of crime/crime family dealings, swearing
WC - 4.4k
Author's Note - I found this photo as I haven't been able to get Elvis off my mind as of late and I had watched Goodfellas last night so the thought came to mind, what if I wrote Elvis in a Goodfellas-esque au, aka a mobster au. That's how this came about. I've got almost 20k of this written already so I figure I post it in a few parts, and make it into a short series.
The Prologue
As a pair of familiar rough hands cupped your cheeks in a warm enveloping kiss, the rowdy applause of your family and friends filled the huge rented ballroom. The reception had started off on a sweet little note as Elvis' toast was made primarily to honor you, but also to honor some of the bigshots and higher-ups in the family who had been gracious enough to attend.
You knew the claps were primarily pointed toward the important men in your family and in Elvis' entourage but that didn't bother you too much. Your crowd was a close one, so close that even a day that was supposed to be yours, had to be divided up nicely to keep everyone happy. That's how it had always been.
Elvis' hand on your hip pulled your body closer to his as he pressed a few nibble-like kisses along your cheek. As he pulled back he stared at you with a small smile, his eyebrows lifted a tinge as his eyes were widened enough to get a real good look at his bride.
"Baby, I gotta go talk with some of the guys, so wait here f'me?"
Just as you had to share the attention on your wedding day, you had to share Elvis as well. But you didn't mind, you couldn't. Whatever Elvis did, it was what made him the man he was, the man you loved.
Your answer was short but soft as your eyes fell onto the way his hand grasped one of yours, "Oh, yeah, sure"
His eyes crinkled in a smile as he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the finger with your rock of a diamond ring gently, mumbling into the skin, "Thank you Baby."
So for the next 20 minutes you sat quietly at the table, your husband's empty seat keeping you company as you watched Elvis be approached by one crowd of men and then the next. Just about all of the men you had been introduced to.
There was Jerry "Hairy" Schilling, the man got his name because he was always greasing up his hair, so much so that he got 5 years in the can because he left greasy handprints on the window of a car that he'd kept some stolen goods in, he managed to dodge the charges of posession of stolen goods but the car happened to be stolen. What a dumbass.
Then the West brothers who maintained a perfect record at the races, they were raking in more money in the South from betting with those damned bookies than the Texas oil aristocrats. And that's saying something.
There's also Joe 'Diamond Joe' Esposito. He got his name from being part of the notorious group who fixed the 1962 World Series, Yankees win all the way. For those who aren't baseball fans, a baseball field is referred to as a baseball diamond. You only knew because your house was always full of Yankees fans who spat at the tv if an ump so much as called a strike on Mickey Mantle.
Speaking of the Yankees, though Joe DiMaggio couldn't make an appearance he sent over a nice bottle of champagne with his compliments to the both of you.
And that was just the start of it. On your side there were a lot of close family friends who also attended, a bunch of Italian goons, and a few mixed mutts thrown in as well. And that was the family.
"For the family"
You looked up to see Esposito's wife holding out an envelope of cash to you with the biggest smile. You nodded and beckoned her down to you with a finger, hugging her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her cheek as she returned on to yours. She whispered in your ear, "You make a gorgeous bride", before pulling back and pushing the envelope closer to you.
You mumbled a thank you and as you took the envelope you saw the rest of the women beginning to line up with their husbands and their envelopes. Before you had gotten through your third round of thank you's and pleasantries with the wedding guests Elvis was sitting by you once more.
His hand rested on your thigh while his other reached out to help you grab the envelopes and shake the hands of the men after they pressed a kiss to your cheek.
The extravagant wedding was practically paid for by the guests and you even got more money on the side, enough for a few months rent for an apartment, just what newlyweds needed. After all, you couldn't celebrate your union living in your mother's house. And you had told Elvis you refuse to live in a house with men going in and out, you wouldn't do it.
While you were his girlfriend and spent plenty of time in his townhouse you watched with a look of disapproval as his friends and aquantances walked in and out like it were a hotel, ordering food from the cook as if it were a restaraunt.
You refused to make a home out of that, and Elvis had promised your godfather, a very important and influential man in the crowds that Elvis roamed about, that you would have a proper home to be the lady of.
By the time all the crowd had come through with their envelopes of cash you found that you’d made a small fortune from this night alone, and that wasn’t even accounting for the huge pile of gifts that were yet to be open.
As the night carried on, you and Elvis had finally taken part in your first dance, it had taken so long since Elvis didn’t like to dance. And as Dean Martin’s song, “You’re Nobody ‘Til Somebody Loves You”, filled the room he mumbled softly for only you to hear, “Ya know I wouldn’t dance for nobody but you.”
You smiled, “I know”
He beamed a prideful smile as you continued to carry your way through the dance gracefully.
When it had ended Elvis kissed your cheek and passed you over to your late-father’s dear friend, your godfather, Marco, who wanted to take his turn with his dearest goddaughter. Marco pressed a kiss to your cheek and pulled you close to take his turn.
Your eyes drifted to the side of the room, Elvis was conglomerating with a couple of men, one of the men, Frankie Albero, began to gesture wildly and you could hear his voice raise just barely above the music. Elvis sent Jerry a look and Jerry pulled him elsewhere, he had that placating look on his face. Whenever Elvis wasn’t in the mood to deal with someone he had Jerry deal with it like such.
You watched as Jerry led the guy to one of the exits, whispering some assurances likely. You bit your lower lip, whenever Jerry pulled that move, the guy with him usually didn’t return without a busted lip or a bruised eye. But Albero was an important man, he was a made man, something Elvis could never be, so it was more than likely that Jerry was just tasked with getting the guy out of the ballroom rather than roughing him up.
Elvis didn’t want a spectacle to be made at the wedding unless the spectacle was you.
“Princess,”
You turned your head back to Marco who seemed to stare down at you with a knowing smile.
“Ah, yes Marco?”
“Don’t worry about it, the kid’s got it handled.”
You smiled up at him and leaned your head on his shoulder, murmuring softly, “I know Marco”
The two of you danced a few more circles as he asked you how you liked your wedding and if anyone was giving you trouble.
“No, everyone’s been wonderful, don’t worry”
You knew if you said differently your godfather might do something drastic, he was like Elvis in that fashion, things were always a production when it came to concerns of family and loved ones.
Marco told a joke about he couldn’t believe his only goddaughter had married an Irishman. The fact that Elvis had Irish roots had strained your relationship with Marco for a long time. You thought the bind of Catholicism would bring your godfather to like Elvis more but that hadn’t done much.
It was only because Elvis had begun to make a name for himself in the crowds of the city that your godfather warmed up to him. Suddenly there was an Irishman steering his way through groups of made men at the Copa with a charismatic smile and a handshake to every single one of them.
There was suddenly an Irishman looking after the little guy in the guinea neighborhoods, tucking hundred dollar bills into a poor man’s breast pocket just for shining his shoes. That is what had earned Marco’s respect.
Well, that and the fact that Elvis had slipped a couple hundred dollars under the table to a man who roughed up the grocery boy who had catcalled you one time.
Not to mention the fact that Elvis was in with all the supplying men, he had a hand in every jar. He had access to all the best supply runners, their routes, and their loads. It was usually liquor, cigars, cigarettes, and cash. He even liked to keep tabs on meat trucks just for his own enjoyment of the often expensive delicacy.
But it wasn’t for nothing. No. Everybody around him got a piece of the action for supplying him with the information that was deemed invaluable if you were the right man and knew how to run steals and heists. Simply put, if you were Elvis.
But despite all that, Elvis would never be a made man. But he was practically untouchable just as a made man would be. Before he had even married you he was untouchable just from his reputation, and the fact that he was like a fountain of money, he making enough cash to go around.
But now that he was married to you, he truly was untouchable. Your family ran the neighborhood, and the next few blocks after. The way someone would lose a finger for touching you with it, now applied to Elvis as well. He had protection, he had his hand in every cookie jar in the city, and now he had you.
When the reception was over, Elvis had taken you to one of the classiest hotels in the city, he’d telephoned beforehand so that the room was at a temperature you liked, asked that the candy bowls be filled with those caramel hard candy’s that you kept in your clutch every time the two of you had a night out, and had sent your favorite sheets to be placed on the bed, he knew you never liked the sheets hotels provided.
And though it wasn’t the dream honeymoon that many women pictured, like a trip to Hawaii or the Hamptons, you didn’t mind. Being in the crowds that you and Elvis were in, you both tried to remain lowkey with that kind of thing. Your wedding date had been in the papers, so with that information people likely had their eyes and ears on you. The last thing the two of you needed was going to an exotic destination just to get shot in the airport.
Being lowkey was romantic to you, it just made the little things in your relationship much more prominent. And you knew that with Elvis, you didn’t need Hawaii to have a honeymoon with an amount of loving on that would rival an entire whorehouse.
And he proved it as he laid you sprawled along the center of the bed, on the cold, slippery satin sheets. You wore nothing but a robe that was spread open giving Elvis a view of you in all your glory, of course paired with your wedding ring, the edges of the clean cut diamonds were leaving the smallest of tears and rips in the sheets as it glided along the fabric.
He shrugged off his white button-up, and as his hands reached to undo the button and zipper on his slacks, he stopped to stare for a moment and mumble,
“My wife…”
He stared at your body incredulously, leaving you to blush silently and let him. His next words came out a whisper while his hand held your ankle as he stood at the end of the bed half-naked,
“By the graces of God, you’re my wife.”
You smiled softly at his words, “And,” you started before sitting up, now on your knees you crawled toward him to the edge of the bed. With the leverage of the bed your head was at the height of his chest, as you looked up at him he looked down at you, awaiting your words.
“You’re my husband”
Your eyes drifted down to his lips. As you stared at his slightly ajar mouth you absentmindedly shrugged off your robe that was already open, once off you brought your hands up to bury themselves in his hair as you pulled him down to kiss you.
He groaned softly as he leaned into the kiss, you were trying to pull him down onto the bed. You could hear and feel the shuffle of him trying to get his pants and boxers off as fast as he could so that he could fall with you onto the bed.
As he tumbled onto the bed naked, atop you, his touch and scent had tumbled with him. Your senses felt overwhelmed as you could smell the aftershave on his cheek when he pressed kisses along your cheek, a hand in your hair to manuever your head in whatever way he liked.
As his kisses traveled further down to nestle into your collarbone, his free hand roamed to cup the globe of your ass, kneading you like bread as he licked and suckled your skin like candy.
“Oh Elvis,”
He hummed into your skin as his hand on your ass traveled to your middrift. His fingers glided down your body like you were a map, his finger lazily traveling to the destination. And when you let out a surprised squeak and your legs twitched as he grazed your clit, he smiled knowing he found his destination.
You gasped as he rubbed a circle.
“Oh- Oh Elvis…”
His lips murmured lazily against your skin, “Mm what”
Elvis’ hand left your scalp as he needed to tend to himself while his other hand tended to you. You threw your head in a loop as your back arched up with the flicks of his finger on your clit. It wasn’t long till he’d easily dipped a digit into your awaiting core.
You were wet enough that he was able to quickly slide another in.
His hand and fingers were gentle as he fondled your entire pussy with one hand, from a finger dragging across your clit to a few others taking deep plunges into your entrance, it was like heaven.
Your cunt contracted as his fingers curled, you mouth gaped open in a silent moan as he continued the erotically slow but steady pace.
“What is it? What do ya need?”
His kisses halted as he crawled down between your legs, spreading your thighs with a hand as his other continued with their touching and teasing. You gasped softly as you felt him blow on the flushed skin down there.
“Ah…”
He turned to press a kiss along your thigh, now one hand of his focused on pumping his fingers in and out while the other hand’s thumb rolled over you clit in steady circles. His kisses continued up your thigh.
He murmured, “Tell me, I know ya can”
You moaned softly. A hand flew down to nestle in his dark hair while your other grasped at the slippery sheets below you.
“You, hah, I need you Elvis..!”
He smiled softly and placed a gentle kiss between your clit and where his fingers pumped inside of you. Said fingers then pulled out as Elvis' tongue dove in, his nose peeking it’s way inside perfectly.
His moistened hand slid across the sheets as a means to wipe off your natural lubricant before he grabbed the back of your knee, lifting it so that he could get better leverage and cover more ground as he continued to eat you out.
“Elvis..! Fuck, E-Elvis you, I need you…”
Your head fell back completely as his thumb worked in unison with his tongue. You felt yourself falling apart so fast, you felt yourself taking such a dive into the deep end that all you could say was his name, like he was your god giving all you could ever want. Like he was your god who depended on your belief that he would take care of you.
He hummed and growled into your cunt as your legs began to kick wildly, as your grip and pull on his hair into your pussy had tightened, and as your hips pumped upward into him in earnest.
“Oh Elvis! Oh I’m so- Elvis!”
Your eyes flew to the back of your head as your body continued to chase that feeling and your sentence was cut off with a moan of his name as you came.
You could hardly process anything as Elvis went right from that position to lining up his cock while mumbling a few swears. He didn’t give you a grace period as he caged you between his arms and pushed into you swiftly. At the intrusion you let out a high pitched moan and reached for the sheets around you for comfort.
“Grab me Baby, h-hold on f’me okay? Alright Baby?”
His eyebrows were furrowed in discomfort as his body stiffened completely, waiting for you to get yourself settled. When he saw the awkwardness of your arms having to reach up so far, he brought himself down into a low plank above you so that you could easily wrap your arms around him while laying down.
As he slid out he mumbled a low, “fuck…” before pushing back in slowly. You moaned into his neck as he continued on with that movement, working himself into a slow rhythm.
You encouraged him gently after releasing a soft gasp at his cock hitting your cervix.
“Ah, yes, keep going”
He hummed in response and leaned his head down against yours as his hips continued to rock in and out of you in deep strokes, it was almost painful to pull out of the warmth of your pussy. With each exposure of his cock to the room he felt the temperature snap at his skin, then be enveloped in a moment’s notice by your warm walls. It was an almost masochistic cycle that he had to follow through with the reach that special peak.
If not for that moment of ecstasy that he was chasing, he’d be content to just stay inside of you, soaking in your warmth and that snug feeling that your cunt provided him with.
He questioned through gritted teeth, thrusting harder with each question,
“Ya like it? Huh? Ya like that?”
As his thrusts grew sharper you gasped with every single one. Nodding your head with a silent moan as he continued on, only with a faster pace.
“Like it when I fuck ya? Yeah?”
He braced his hands on the bed as your nails dug crescents into his back as his muscles flexed with the sudden roughness and speed. He was close.
“My wife likes it when I fuck her huh? She likes it when I lay her down yeah?”
You let out a strangled moan as he began to plunge into you so fast that his rhythm was beginning to get all out of wack. The lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass as he continued with his thrusts, the moans that left your throat in a guttural way, his groans against the skin of your neck, and squelching and air pops as his cock plunged in and out of you made a cacophony of what must be the sounds of good loving.
Suddenly you felt yourself reaching that peak again and as the coil in your stomach snapped and you moaned his name, he growled with a rasp as his hips worked with their own agenda, helping him reach his release as fast as possible.
And when his legs trembled, his body shook, and his groans got drawn out, you knew he’d finished.
He began to slowly grind into you more, as he did so you felt the warmth of his seed spill out of your entrance slightly. He slowly rode out that high, panting, “My wife…” as he did so.
A/N - As I said I plan to make this into a series because I've already written so much and I think there might be someone who might like this, so, if you're that someone just leave any sort of comment and I'll tag you in the next part.
Series Summary:
While it was deemed a waste for you to marry an Irishman, completely disregarding your bloodline that led all the way back to the old country, you couldn't help who you fell in love with. Thankfully Elvis had earned the respect of those in your crowd and made a name for himself, he got himself properly inducted into the family business. But just as your life together starts to properly begin, the head of the family would need Elvis to take care of a few things in the casinos of Vegas.
Credits: Photo of Elvis is from the 45 RPM picture sleeve for Wonder Of You/Mama Liked The Roses, the rest is pinterest, and the layout is from canva. This series will also take lots of reference/inspiration from Goodfellas, the Godfather, Casino, and of course a few books I've read on the subject.
#elvis presley x y/n#elvisaaronpresley#elvis#elvis fanfiction#elvis fic#elvis presley x reader#elvis presley fic#elvis presley#elvis presley fandom#elvis imagine#elvis x reader#elvis x oc#elvis x you#elvis x y/n#elvis photos#70s elvis#60s elvis#elvis fluff#elvis smut#elvis presley x you#elvis fandom#elvis the king#elvis presley smut#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis presley fanfic#elvis presley fluff#elvis series
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Waiting for Love - Part Seven
Letting Go
Content: December 1970-February 1971, infidelity, smut, fluff, 18+
Catch up here: Waiting for Love series
Early December 1970
“So you’re telling me Elvis was laying here in this very bed last night?” Roxanne buried her face in the pillow and inhaled deeply. “The pillow smells good,” she said dreamily.
“Hey! He’s mine,” Vivien laughed, snatching the pillow away and clutching it to her chest. “Only I get to smell him. And taste him,” she added in a muffled whisper as she lowered her head into the pillow, feeling a little tingle at the memory of him telling her he hadn’t been in anyone else’s mouth since hers.
“You like swallowing him down?” Roxanne asked, crinkling her nose in disgust. “I always just go in the bathroom right away and spit it out when Michael does that in my mouth.”
“Spit it out?” Vivien sounded like she didn’t even know that was an option. “No, I like it. I love the look on his face when he, y’know, finishes,” she giggled. “It feels magical to make him feel so good. Don’t you ever feel that way about Michael?”
“What would be magical is if he ever felt like returning the favor,” Roxanne muttered, trying to quell the feelings of jealousy that were bubbling up. She was happy that Vivien looked so happy, she really was, especially after these last few months of uncertainty, but the look in Vivien’s eyes when she talked about Elvis made Roxanne question if she’d ever really been in love with Michael at all. “So, when do I get to meet him?” she asked, trying not to bring down Vivien’s mood.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Vivien said nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her green sweater dress. “Are you going to be polite to him? And don’t tell him I told you anything about his…penis,” she said, her voice dropping to an embarrassed whisper.
“Don’t worry, hon, I won’t tell him how in love you are with his foreskin,” Roxanne teased as Vivien’s face flushed hotly. “I just figured I’d say something like, ‘When are you gonna divorce your frigid wife and marry my best friend Vivien?’”
“Ha ha, very funny!” Vivien retorted. “You are not saying that!”
“Fine,” Roxanne sighed. “I’ll just think it and send the message telepathically.”
“Okay, I’ll allow that,” Vivien giggled.
“Speaking of penises, did you guys do the deed last night?” Roxanne asked nonchalantly.
“Not the full deed,” Vivien blushed as she thought of what they had done and how intimate it felt. Too intimate to even share with Roxanne. She felt somehow protective of the way Elvis had sat in front of her and stroked his most private, sensitive area while he looked in her eyes, softly moaning. She quickly continued before Roxanne could ask any more questions, “I think I might be ready soon though. He told me that he loves me.” Roxanne’s eyes widened with surprise, and a look of concern flashed across her face. “What? You, um, think he’s just saying that to make me feel better?” Vivien whispered nervously, her stomach dropping.
“No, honey, no,” Roxanne quickly cut in. “I’m just worried about you. He’s telling you that, and I’m sure he feels that way, I mean why wouldn’t he? You’re sweet and beautiful and funny. But he disappeared on you for four months. And he is still living with his wife. And he hasn’t made any move to change that yet, right?”
Vivien could feel her stomach tightening up into knots, all her hope from the night before seeming to dissipate. “Well, what am I supposed to do?” her voice quivered. “You told me I should go for it, and now you’re saying I should just forget about him? I can’t do that.”
“No, Vivien, I don’t know what I’m saying. I just want you to be careful.”
“How do you be careful falling in love?” Vivien asked, brushing a tear off her cheek. “You either love someone or you don’t, right? You have to let go of the doubts. You can’t love someone halfway.”
“Maybe you’re right, Viv,” Roxanne gave her hand a little squeeze. “Just follow your heart and see if it was meant to be. Just know I’ll always be here for you, okay?”
Vivien nodded just as they heard pounding on the door. Vivien jumped up and ran to the living room, wondering whether it was possible that he’d come back so soon. “Elvis! You’re back!” she exclaimed, her spirits immediately lifted into the clouds.
“Of course I’m back, baby,” he said, wrapping her in a big hug. “I didn’t like havin’ ta sneak out earlier, but I didn’t wanna wake ya, and I had some things ta take care of. I had ta come back though cuz I just got some big news and you’re the first person I wanted ta tell.” Elvis was almost breathless with excitement.
“What is it?” Vivien asked eagerly.
“I’m gonna be gettin’ an award next month - the Jaycees Ten Most Outstanding Young Men award!” Elvis was beaming like a little boy, and Vivien had to stop herself from giggling at how cute he looked.
“Don’t you get awards all the time?” she asked, smiling.
“W-w-well sure, but this is different. This ain’t for jus’ singin’; this is because they think I’m a good person. They recognize how I try to be good and help people and ever’thing.”
Vivien’s heart melted that the award he wanted so badly was just to be recognized as a decent human being. “Well, I think that’s the perfect award for you, then. They couldn’t have picked a better man.”
“Ya wanna celebrate, baby?” Elvis whispered as he leaned down and nibbled on her ear.
“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Roxanne asked, wandering out of the bedroom at that exact moment.
Vivien blushed as she pulled away from Elvis’ embrace. “Elvis, this is my best friend Roxanne. Roxanne, Elvis.”
“Oh, the famous Roxanne,” Elvis exclaimed as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “I understand you’re to thank for the dress Vivien used to try to seduce me at the movies when we first met.”
Roxanne laughed. “That would be me, yes,” she said. “And apparently it worked?”
“Well, it was actually her copy of The Prophet that did me in,” Elvis said with a smile.
Roxanne’s expression turned serious. “You seem very kind and charming, Elvis, but as Vivien’s best friend, I need to warn you that you better not break her heart.”
Elvis looked surprised for a second before responding. “I’m just hoping she doesn’t break mine.”
Vivien and Elvis both smiled as Roxanne whispered, “Okay, he’s pretty good, I’ll give you that.”
*************************************************
January 12, 1971
“Honey, I need ta see ya. I’ve been practicin’ this speech for the award ceremony, and I wanna know what ya think.”
“Okay, do you want me to come over?” Vivien asked, never sure of the etiquette for asking if the man you love’s wife was home or not. It had been so difficult to not get to spend Christmas or his birthday with him, although he’d sent her over a beautiful pair of emerald earrings. She prayed that next year would be different, that she wouldn’t have to ask if she was allowed to come over.
“Yes, if you could, I really need ya.” Elvis sounded relieved.
Twenty minutes later, Vivien was walking up the driveway to Graceland. Elvis must have told the security guard to expect her because he opened the gate without a question. Before she could even knock on the door, Elvis flung it open and pulled her upstairs to the study next to his bedroom.
“I-I-I’m so glad you’re here, baby, I’m gettin’ nervous, I jus’ really wanna do a good job,” Elvis seemed agitated in the same way he’d been before filming the concert documentary last summer.
“Elvis, you’re going to do great.” Vivien looked over what he’d written. “Wow, this is really beautiful and heartfelt. I think people will love it,” she said sincerely. “I just wish I could be there with you, to support you.” She smiled wistfully.
Elvis pulled her onto his lap and stroked her back tenderly. “I wish ya could too, baby. It’s just not time yet. But remember, we’re in this together. You’re supportin’ me just by bein’ here now. I love ya, honey.” He laid his head against her chest, soaking in her warmth and love for him.
“I love you too, Elvis. It’s just hard.” Vivien swallowed harshly, trying to fight the tears that were welling up.
“Honey, ya make things hard for me all the time,” Elvis said, trying to hold back the laughter at his own dirty joke.
“Elvis! I’m being serious!” Vivien said, laughing in spite of herself.
“Me too, baby, me too, just touch it and see,” he groaned, lifting his head to kiss her as he grabbed her hand and rested it on his crotch. “See what ya do to me?” he murmured between kisses. “The way you’re always so sweet, always here when I need ya, it-it-it turns me on, baby.”
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to take care of you then,” Vivien whispered, sliding off his lap so she could kneel between his legs and unzip his pants. “If you’re gonna get this speech right, you need to be nice and relaxed. I have the perfect trick for that.” Elvis panted softly as she pulled out his dick and set to work on her mission to relax him, her tongue caring for every part of him.
*************************************************
February 2, 1971
“Hey, princess! Did ya like Daddy’s show last night?” Elvis scooped Lisa into a big hug as she came charging into his bedroom suite at the hotel.
“Yes! Elvis sing so good and dance funny,” Lisa giggled.
“Not Elvis, baby, call me Daddy,” Elvis laughed as he tickled her tummy.
“Okay Elvis!” Lisa tried to tickle him back with her little fingers.
“I’m glad ya enjoyed your birthday, my yittle Yisa.” Elvis blew a big raspberry kiss on her cheek. “You’re gonna go with Mommy, and I’ll see ya at home in jus’ a few weeks, okay?”
Priscilla cleared her throat where she’d been hovering in the doorway. “Should I, I mean am I supposed to come back for closing night?”
“Uh, n-n-no, ya ain’t gotta come back, that’s alright,” Elvis responded as he pulled her in for a hug, partly just to avoid making eye contact.
“Oh, okay,” Priscilla sounded surprised but almost relieved. There was a certain freedom in accepting that things were coming to an end, in letting go.
As soon as they’d left, Elvis went to the phone and lifted the receiver, his heart beating with excitement as his long fingers dragged the rotary dial around. “Baby? I need ya out here with me. Don’t worry ‘bout packin’ anything. I’ma take good care of ya, honey. How soon can ya leave?”
*************************************************
One week later
Vivien sat nervously on the edge of the bed in Elvis’ giant hotel suite, eyeing the dress he’d laid out for her to wear. She hadn’t actually gotten to see him yet, and since it had been almost a month, she felt nervous, hoping he would be as excited as she was to be together again. Joe had picked her up at the airport in his usual gruff manner, although he had kept his judgments to himself this time. Elvis must have given him a piece of his mind.
True to his word, Elvis had provided everything she might need - a whole rack of sparkly dresses was hanging in the closet, with matching shoes and even a handbag. She would have been worried they were Priscilla’s, but they all still had the tags on from some swanky boutique. One dress was draped across the bed with a note on top of it.
Sweetheart, wear this tonight. I want everyone to be green with envy that you belong to me. -EP
After wiggling into the dress, Vivien examined herself in the full-length mirror. The dress was emerald green with little rhinestones sewn in that sparkled in the light. The fringe on the skirt swished when she walked, and the dramatic halter top V-neckline was so deep and tight that she thought she might pop out of the fabric if she moved the wrong way. It was certainly the most daring thing she’d ever worn, even more than the dresses Roxanne lent her.
As she studied herself, the conversation she’d overheard at work replayed itself in her mind. She thought her boss had seemed sympathetic when she told him she needed two weeks off for a family emergency. She felt bad about the fib, but she could hardly tell him the truth. Later, as she walked by the lounge, she’d heard his voice drifting out into the hallway as he talked to one of the other lawyers. “A family emergency, right! I heard rumors she’s been whoring herself out to Elvis Presley, if you can believe that. I always thought she was a good girl, but you never can tell these days…”
As they had that day, tears started stinging her eyes. Vivien tried to push all that out of her mind. Elvis wanted her here with him, and nothing was going to ruin that for her. She slipped on a pair of strappy gold sandals and headed toward the door.
After Joe dropped her off at her own booth toward the front of the showroom, he leaned in and smirked. “I’ll get ya during the last song so we can get back to the suite safely. We wouldn’t want ya gettin’ lost in the shuffle of all the women.” Vivien just nodded, tight-lipped, and rolled her eyes as he walked away. Jealousy did not become him.
Vivien was in a state of euphoria as Joe led her back to the suite after the show. There were really no words that could explain the magic of seeing Elvis up on that stage, sharing his gift with the world. Vivien felt like she’d been under a spell watching him, a spell that might never be broken. She waited anxiously for him to arrive, ignoring the glares and curious looks from Joe and the handful of other people who were waiting for the man of the hour. Her heart skipped a beat when Elvis burst through the door with some of his entourage. He looked absolutely stunning, still glistening with sweat. Beauty and sexiness radiated off of him. Vivien smiled as she noticed how the green on his jumpsuit perfectly matched her dress. Elvis caught sight of her and his face lit up as he gathered her into a big hug and planted a kiss right on her lips.
“Y’all can go, I’m tired tonight,” Elvis announced to his crew as he turned back to Vivien with a wink. Everyone cleared out with a slight air of disappointment.
“Are you tired, baby?” Vivien asked with concern, brushing a sweaty lock of hair off Elvis’ forehead. “Did you want to lie down?”
“Naw, honey,” Elvis said with a sly grin. “I jus’ wanted ya all ta myself. I missed ya so much.” He leaned in and caught her lips with his, pushing his tongue gently into her mouth. Vivien softly moaned and Elvis pulled back with a blissful little smile on his face. His smile widened as he looked down. “Y’know the way ya fill this dress out honey, reminds me of our first little pool party where ya decided to come right outta your top and seduce me with your womanly wiles.”
Vivien tilted her head back and laughed. “Oh, it was me doing the seducing? Not you giving me a swimsuit that was two sizes too small?”
“Honey, all I know is that I was tryin’ ta have serious discussions with ya, and your eyes kept wanderin’ all over me,” Elvis teased. “See? You’re even doin’ it now.”
Vivien blushed as she realized her eyes were indeed taking in every part of him. He had removed his heavy gold belt, and every contour of his body now seemed visible through the tight black and green jumpsuit. She put her hand on his chest and then let it trail gently down over his lean stomach until it rested softly on the bulge below his waist. “Can you really blame me when you look this sexy?” she whispered. “I want you so badly.”
Elvis’ eyes sparkled as he responded, “You’re looking quite sexy yourself, baby.” He deftly reached behind her neck and untied the halter straps of the dress, letting the fabric fall down to Vivien’s waist, her soft breasts on full display, her hardened nipples showing just how aroused he made her. Elvis cupped her breasts with his warm hands and leaned down to kiss and lick each nipple.
“Elvis,” Vivien moaned softly.
“Yes, baby?” he murmured, rolling the rest of the dress down and helping her step out of it.
“I’m, I’m ready,” she whispered. “I’m ready to give you every part of me. I want to belong to you completely.”
Elvis stood straight up and looked at her with surprise. “A-a-are ya sure, honey? I want ya ta really be sure.”
Vivien nodded and pulled him close, her naked body trembling in his arms. “I’m nervous, but I’m sure,” she said softly, reaching to help him peel off his jumpsuit, still damp with sweat. Elvis looked at Vivien shyly as he stood before her in just his briefs. “You look more nervous than I do,” she teased as she pulled his underwear down his legs and took in the beautiful sight of his bare body.
“I-I-I jus’ wanna make sure it’s perfect for ya honey,” he said, blushing a little bit at the pleasure she took in looking at him. “You’ve waited a long time, so I want it to be special.”
Vivien smiled at his sweet thoughtfulness. “It will be perfect and special because it’s with you. I’ve been waiting for love, and now I found it.”
Elvis helped her onto the bed and laid himself on top of her, gently kissing her lips before he reached down to guide himself in. He rubbed his hard dick against Vivien’s clit, her arousal growing as she felt his silky soft skin right against her most sensitive spot. “Ya sure you’re ready baby? It might hurt a little at first, but I’ll be so gentle. I’ll take care of ya honey, okay? You just gotta relax and let go.”
Vivien nodded and kissed his soft lips. “I’m ready to let go, Elvis. I’m ready to give you everything.” She could feel his tip start to enter inside of her, her body opening up to accept all of him.
Tag List: @whositmcwhatsit @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love @pebbles403 @deniseinmn @everythingelvispresley @little-laamb @annapresley8 @leapresley @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @atleastpleasetelephone @gatheraheart @richardslady121 @helen06dreamer @arg-xoxo
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The Seatbelt Sign is On
A Big Bunny Vignette.
Bunny wants to get tied up, so uh, here we are. Playboy!Reader x 76/77 Elvis - this little plot-less smutty fic is set between The Lisa-Marie & Crash Landing. Although I think it could be read as a standalone. This is pretty much totally unedited, so apologies for any typos.
warnings: 18+ 18+ 18+. Light bondage. No safewords or anything but it is clearly pretty ssc**. Oral, and penetrative sex (p in v), slight overstimulation.
75-77 elvis x playboybunny!reader (established relationship - here's the link for the rest of the series)
wc: 4.2k (miss concise smut is back baby!!)
** ((Spoiler: Elvis does say he has scissors in case she needs to be cut out - but he’s pretty much just holding her down with some ribbon and a seatbelt.))
Elvis often climbed up the stairs with his last burst of energy post-show - happy to collapse and settle in or onto the nearest chair, sometimes not even making it to his bed, taking in the precious hours of rest before the next stop. It meant that even though you were spending a serious number of hours with Elvis, it didn’t leave a whole lot of time that he was lucid or awake enough to actually spend it with you.
You’d worried it was you, to start with, but you’d heard the guys whispering about him lately. About his lack of interest in the girls he flew out to meet him, or the ones waiting back home for him. You’d watched Sam looking you up and down a little smugly in the middle of the conversation as if saying without a word that there was a lack of interest in you too. The rumours that he couldn’t get it up at the moment followed raucous retellings of salacious events from years before that you were sure were heavily embellished if they’d even happened at all. But, despite what they would gossip about, you never would describe Elvis as lacking in some way, and certainly not out loud. Sure, he didn’t always (or even often) have the energy to be intimate with you but when he did he was as considerate and, usually, as fun as ever.
Sometimes though you couldn’t help but feel like it was just…a bit bland. You still blush when you think about those first few flights on Big Bunny, meeting him in next to nothing for that rehearsal. Nothing has really come close in a long time. He certainly wasn’t behaving in the same way, and you felt a little like maybe you had become too comfortable together, or like a married couple or something. A distinct lack of excitement together.
The issue, you thought while brainstorming ways of keeping it interesting, was that despite how brash and forward Elvis could be, he ultimately became quite shy and almost too respectful towards you while you were alone. You knew enough about how his brain worked to know that part of the appeal of the opposite sex was, for him, the perceived softness and ability to at least perform an act of gentle innocence. He could be brazen and arrogant while ordering you to dance for him, to roll his latest dirty film acquisition, yet when he had you alone he’d be almost apologetic, gentle. You didn’t want him to be mean to you, but maybe a little less of the…desperation. If he could just take a little more control again.
It was at the end of a run of shows, Elvis tired but with it, when the answer came to you. He’d been carefully kissing the inside of your thighs, where you lay, still fully dressed on the bed of the Lisa-Marie when you’d moved your hands onto his head in an attempt to impatiently guide him. He’d tutted at you, immediately pulling away from your fingertips trying to bury themselves into his longer hair.
“No, no, no, keep your hands outta the way, baby, gotta let me work.” He returned, but a kiss to a sensitive crease sent your leg knocking into his shoulder. It’s been a while. You can feel his grin even as he pulls away again to look up his lashes at you.
“I told you you gotta stay still, I need my hands for this, can’t be holdin’ you down.” You’re not sure the noise that came out of your mouth could be heard by anything but dogs but he laughs, shaking his head, “What m’I gonna do with you?” You wiggle a little, and there’s a clunk of metal hitting the floor. You both turn to look, and your wide eyes meet his calculating ones.
“You can. You know, if you want.” He stares at the seatbelt now trailing on the floor for a moment longer before responding, turning bashful;
“Uh, well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t wanna pin you - I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable… I was really only jokin-“ He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.
“El- it’s ok, really, I think I’d like it.”
“I didn’t, uh, I didn’t - do girls, do ya, do ya, uh, really like that kinda thing?”
“Uh-huh, I think so, or well, maybe not every girl, but I like the sound of it, all tied up and ready for you, just having to take whatever you wanted to give me? Doesn’t that sound good to you too?” While you were talking you could see him looking at the belt, gently stroking your wrist as he considered the proposition, he swallows. You can tell he likes the idea.
“You’d… you just, you’d just let me know if you want out right?” You laugh at his nervous questioning;
“Lord Elvis, what’s running through that mind of yours to do to me that I’d want out?” He shrugs, glancing at the clock.
“Well, not today, baby, gotta be ready for the show in an hour, ‘m gonna, gonna freshen’ up.” And with a pat to your side, he headed to the bathroom, leaving you there.
You realised you might have made an error in judgement bringing it up just then, just when he’d started to get going now you were left with your panties twisted to one side, skirt hitched, alone on the bed with the plane seemingly whizzing past any prospect of an orgasm today.
——————————————————————
“We’re uh, going to Denver, you know, for the uh, burgers.” You pull the headset from your ear, as if blinking at it was staring at him and he would offer you more explanations.
“Oh, yeah… sure, ok.”
“Well, don’t ya wanna come too?” He sounds offended at your noncommittal response, but you don’t really. Truthfully, you still didn’t quite feel like you were rested from the tour yet and you knew it was only a matter of days before you’d be up all hours of the night and day and running ragged after him again. But, he made that dejected sort of hopeful hum that made you cringe at the mere thought of not agreeing to his plans.
“Of course I do - I’ll uh, I’ll be there just as soon as I can.” It’s silent on the other end, and then,
“We’re leavin’ now, so hurry.” Of course he was.
It didn’t occur to you until much later that he didn’t want to go to Denver at all, and definitely not for the burgers - you’d heard Joe ringing from the comfort of Elvis’ fancy car-phone to make sure someone, presumably a pretty Miss Colorado of some sort, was home. Assuring them down the line that Elvis couldn’t come to the phone right now, but if they made sure they were at the airport he’d be there in a few hours for a flying visit. Somehow, you were able to listen to this - your legs nudging his, and his nudging Joe’s, without the slightest jealousy - just a mild sympathy for this girl desperate for the crumbs he was willing to lay. It would be much later that you would realise Denver had nothing to do with this girl either, that it was all an excuse for you. You’d realised there was some kind of ulterior motive to a lesser extent though as soon as you were, quite frankly, shoved into the bedroom as soon as you had boarded.
“Elvis! I’ve got a job to do!” He shakes his head, grinning at you and standing in the way of the door,
“Nu-uh baby, I been thinking about what you said last time.” You didn’t expect that.
“Oh?”
“Yes ma’am, and you’re right.” You really didn’t expect that,
“Oh! Well I can’t say I’m surpr-” You yelp as he pinches your side,
“‘Nough of that, on the bed! I got ‘quipment.” You pause your stride towards the bed, looking at him grinning with his hands on his hips, it was all a bit sudden.
“Um, I didn’t, I mean, I’m not su-” He grins at you,
“I thought you were Miss Confident?” He gets that sly look on his face, his eyes narrowing and crinkling in their corners, “You know… I’ve been readin’ up and I don’t know if I oughta be worried, liking this kind of thing is listed in the DSM you know…” You gulp, your stomach twisting a little, feeling a flush rise up from your chest to your cheeks.
“Jesus El - I’m not the one with equipment! I just like a little…I’m an adult, and I know what I like and I think it’s unfair of you to say that kind of thing, especially when I know what you’ve been up to, and you know Hugh - Elvis stop laughing at me!”
“You’d have thought I was secretly sending you off to the nuthouse baby, the way you were carrying on then,” He manages to get the words out past his giggles, “ ‘s just a bit of ribbon, honey-bunny.” You both feel the rumble of the engine starting up, “C’mon we’re on a time limit.”
“Well, if you’re - if you’re sure…” You bite your lip in nerves.
“Where’d my conf’dent l’il bunny go huh? C’mon baby, ‘s no worries - you’ll like it .”
“Are you - you know what you’re doing?” His mouth gapes a little, wide-eyed.
“Of course!” He looks genuinely offended, for a second before grinning, “I got good at knots in the army don’t you worry.” He winks at you as he salutes, his feet knocking together and you giggle, your tension relieving itself.
“I’d be more reassured if you’d been in the navy.” He swats at you,
“ ‘M better than any of them boys playin’ out on their little boats I tell ya, now hush and let me work here.” Your breath catches again, “don’t worry darlin’ I saw this in a uh, blue movie, don’t ya worry, I know how you like it.”
That did little to calm your nerves - his reassurance that he knew what he was doing too often led to some kind of mild disaster. “Well, ok, but - you’ve got, you’re prepared, right? You got some scissors or, something, haven’t you? In case you hafta get me out quick?”
Elvis puts the bag back onto the bed, holding three fingers up - but his solemn face belies the comedy of the action; “I swear, swear to you, I’ll get you out if you want to be. Not gonna let anythin’ happen to my best bunny.” You look into his eyes pausing for a moment and nod, lying back on the bed. He situates himself between your legs, bending to place a feather-light kiss on the corner of your mouth,
“Aren’t you gonna…?” You shake your wrists at him and he huffs a laugh, his breath fanning over you,
“Gotta get you worked up first baby, ain’t no fun if you’re not ready to wriggle and jiggle around, is it? Now, hush,” He whispers against your skin, “let me work my magic.”
He might not have been focussing his energy through his ‘healing hands’ this time, but you couldn’t deny he did have the magic touch, he barely had to brush his fingers over you, press a thigh against your side, and you were gone from the world, levitating above the bed, above the plane, into the sky above. You’re embarrassingly quick to turn on, making out with Elvis enough to make you squirm. After a minute or so he presses kisses against your clavicle, open-mouthed while his fingers fumble with opening the buttons that stretch from your neck to your thighs, almost immediately shoving his hands around the waistband of your tights and he tugs hard enough that there’s the tell-tale ripping sound of the nylon falling apart - if you’d been more conscious of it you would have rolled your eyes, somehow you never seem to be able to keep a pair for long around Elvis. As it was you were far too distracted to care, relieved simply to be divested of the fabric and you lift your hips to let him roll them off - throwing the destroyed fabric to the corner of the room. His hand supports your back as you lean forward, pulling your arms out of your dress, immediately wrapping them around his neck once you were free.
He’s all-encompassing, someone else might find him smothering, the way his arms seem to be everywhere all at once, caging you against him. But you can’t get enough. Your underwear ends up somewhere, god knows where. You’re reminded again of that revelatory first time when he’s biting nibbling kisses across your chest, tiny pink bruises sucked onto your soft skin, Elvis’ hands pawing at you in that somehow hot clumsy way. He tweaks a nipple and your back arches to meet him, you don’t know when your eyes closed but you open them at the sudden loss of any sensation,
Elvis is sat back on his heels, assessing you, rubbing your thighs firmly. He nods with satisfaction at whatever he sees, reaching up the bed for the ribbon and tugging your wrists towards him. He kisses your pulse, and you wonder if he can feel how it jumps. He tuts when the ribbon twists, wrapping it around several times and looping it over and under before finishing it off with his best attempt at a bow. You make eye contact with each other, and you open your mouth to tease him about it, but he stops you with a pointed finger, his eyes alight.
“Don’t say a word.” You swallow your words, playfully snapping at his finger instead, and he laughs, holding your newly tied wrists above your head as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s somehow dirtier this time, whether because you just feel that way, or because he doesn’t take his time, biting your lip and pushing his tongue into you; forcefully mapping out your mouth. He works his way down, sucking a small, darker bruise on the underside of your left breast, you wonder if it was intentionally close to your heart. You tremble, wriggling against him and after a moment he evidently grows tired of pinning your wrists, his long arms not able to keep them pressed flat while he works down your body and he looks for a way to secure them better.
“Well, I guess we didn’t think this through, honey, it’s not the right kind of headboard, so I s’pose you’ll just hafta keep ‘em there.” He presses your newly tied wrists against the pillows, fingertips brushing the velvet of the headboard and your back arches with the effort of keeping them there. His breath tickles when he returns to his place, and the air over the sticky wetness of your inner thighs makes your arms involuntarily attempt to come back down to hold him in place. Elvis tuts at you, leaning back.
“’S no good. You’re wriggling around too much.” He stands up, his hands on his hips to assess your predicament. He sits back down and peers down the side of the bed. “C’mere.” He hauls your body up and you wriggle up with him until you were high enough up the bed that your back was now supported by one of the cream-golden reading cushions and he was able to pull the seatbelt across your stomach.“Keep your hands there.” He pats them at the top, and you grip the top of the headboard as best you can. “Where was I?”
You’ve lost all ability to speak, simply too turned on to comprehend what’s going on. There’s the barest hint of sweat beading above his eyebrow and glistening on his dark, longer, sideburns. Your hands twitch to cup his face and you whine in frustration, unable to reach where he kneels between your legs, your fingers clutching the dusty top of the headboard, desperate not to ruin the game. He grins, tongue running over his teeth, and you thump your head back against the hard cushion,
“Elvis, c’mon.”
“I’m havin’ fun now, baby,” He sing-songs it delicately and you shiver, “Gonna get you so worked up.” His thick hands grasp your thighs, fingertips digging in, “C’mon, bunny, open up for me.” You have no idea if the growl that comes from his mouth was intentional, or if it just had the unintended side effect of your legs immediately spreading, your breath hitching. He leans in and you feel yourself tense, hairs pricking with the tension of the moment, desperately anticipating his next move.
Elvis is clearly not unaffected by the sight of you - his breathing much harder than before and it tickles as he gently kisses your inner thigh, his pouty lips open. The very tip of his tongue ghosts across your skin, and you shudder at the sensation, aching for him.
“Elvis you’ve gotta - you’ve gotta touch me.”
“I am touching you.” His fingertips continue to dance, and you try to squirm a little, the seatbelt trapping you in place.
“Nooo. Properly.” He chuckles,
“Properly” He teases with a shake of his head and you whine again,
“Ssh, shhh, I’mma take real good care of you, bunny, just relax baby,” He firmly rubs at your thighs, as if he wasn’t the reason you were squirming. You let your head roll back again, suddenly distracted as he teases you by the sight of yourself in the mirror at the end of the room, the dark mahogany of the wood-covered room and the dim light reflecting off of the creamy ceiling putting you into a soft-glow focus. You can barely see yourself beyond him, he takes up the majority of your view, and though the concept is hot to you, fully clothed as he was, it left little to look at - just your twitching tied wrists, above both of your bodies, really visible.
Finally he’s kissing across your bare skin and you’d forgotten somehow, impossibly, in the time since you’d last been together like this, just how good he was at this. You’re already so sensitive, you can feel the cooling dampness in the air, and yet it still comes as a surprise at his first kitten licks how responsive you were to him. He presses one hand against your thigh, fingers leaving bruises from his tight grip, holding you totally open to him. Elvis leans back a little, grinning at your attempts to grind on nothing, and you might be ashamed at such a wanton display in the morning but right now you just need the pressure back. He spreads your slick folds with his flattened tongue, moving his fingers in to keep you spread open so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on the little nub and sending you shuddering.
Your legs are the only part of you able to move, and you wrap them around his, now thicker, waist holding him against you until the movement of his talented tongue and fingers make them kick out. For some reason, even though he wasn’t doing anything new, being secured down like this was making everything feel ten times more - like someone had turned your sensitivity up on a dial. He tongue-fucks into you, and it’s so hard to keep your hands where they are, writhing around as you were, desperate to hold him in place - gain better purchase to grind against his clever, talented tongue.
The singular focus he dedicates to this task always reminds you of that first time and having him so committed only adds to your enjoyment. Elvis renews his efforts, suckling like he needs you for oxygen, and the warm wet pressure builds until finally, you’re shuddering over the edge of orgasm, legs spasming and your back arching as much as it was able to do so - and the tension of the seatbelt across your body - pinning you down far more than you would usually be held, has you electrified, adding to your startling passion. You pant, trembling as he leans back, it’s scandalous how he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick and you try to form words to tell him how earth-shattering that vision is, but you struggle from the sheer anticipation of watching him stand up.
“El- Honestl-El, how’d you, it’s so good. You need, I need you -“
You cut yourself off, panting, as Elvis finally, finally, slips out of his lounge pants and jacket. His tanned hairy chest unveiled itself, a perfect trail leading down to his hard cock, its pink head poking out, glossy with his precum. You shudder, and he grins at you wildly for a moment, before seemingly focussing on the task at hand, clambering back atop you. He mutters the same thing he always mutters as he presses himself into you,
“Y’re good, y’re a good girl, bunny, swear it - y’re so, fuck, so tight.” It probably shouldn’t make your chest glow so much. He presses a hand on your stomach, just below where the seatbelt pins you to the bed - holding you in place for him to get himself situated. The firm pressure is almost enough to tip you over the cliff again. You realise you’re babbling, muttering pleas when Elvis kisses your sweaty cheek, hushing you. He jerks his hips once, twice, in time with your gasps before he growls, evidently incapable of getting the angle right and you suddenly feel yourself being tugged down the bed, hands leaving the headboard and seatbelt scraping your skin until you were lying mainly flat, mostly immobile.
“That’s it, that’s - that’s better - that good for you Bunny?” He doesn’t give you time to respond, laughing to himself, “ ‘course it is. You’re like one of them kids toys, what’re they called, those, those, slip n’, slip n’ slides. So fucking wet down here.” You nod frantically in agreement, stuttering out that you were fine, it was all good - but please, Elvis, please, just move.
It’s a strange sensation, being unable to use yourself to get leverage, and it feels almost objectifying. Lying there just to be used, but you liked it, and Elvis took advantage, pulling and tugging to exactly the pace and angle he needed to chase his own pleasure. You plant your feet, when you manage to get purchase, able to use your thighs to your advantage a little. You can feel the edge rising, but before you get there Elvis stills, his mouth agape, sweat beading at his forehead and eyebrow, upper lip aglow with it, and you feel him pulsing. His hand comes down to stroke between your folds, as he slowly pulls out, and you shake your head - it was almost too much, but he hushes you,
“Shh. Wanna see you go again, it’s only fair - ’n’t that the reason I got you all tied up like this.” You tremble, and he presses his thumb against you, it’s filthy, the viscous mix of your fluids. Elvis deftly rubs your clit, and your body shakes through the waves of orgasm until you squirm away from his fingers, completely overstimulated,
“El- El, that’s that’s enough, I can’t - fuck, that’s too much - too much,” He laughs at you, stroking you a final time as your legs twitch. You lie there panting for a long while, and Elvis gets up before you do, cutting the ribbon off of you, not bothering to deal with the knots that had tightened as you struggled, and heading to grab a drink from the little dressing table alcove at the end of the room while you caught your breath.
The ribbon had done pretty well at keeping your hands together, he’d done them up tight enough that they’d laid fairly flat and untwisted, but still, when you rubbed your wrists there was a light mark and the hint of soreness, especially around the outside edge of your forearm. You unbuckle yourself, sitting upright slowly.
Clearly, there’s a reason people don’t usually use seatbelts like this. The rough edge of the nylon had rubbed you where you’d wriggled around, the lines criss-crossing, while the heavy weight of the gold buckle had left indents - several of which you were sure were going to bruise. You didn’t mind that so much, pressing a finger into the darkest of the marks.
“Good Lord Elvis, I look like I’ve been whipped or something!” He glances back at you in the mirror where you’re now fully upright, brushing your fingers over the pink marks. He points a finger at your reflection,
“No chance in goddamn hell. Nope. There’s not enough space - don’t you go gettin’ any ideas now, li’l girl. Absolutely fuckin’ no.”
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#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis fanfic#elvis smut#be-my-ally#elvis x oc#elvis x reader#big daddy elvis#elvis fanfiction#big bunny#big bunny vibes#elvis x playboy reader#elvis x you
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A little devil’s lettuce
Sarge 2nd Gen, Summer 1983
Elvis Presley fanfiction
Summary: In the hustle and bustle of the day before Jesse’s wedding to Donna, Elaine finds time for a little bonding with her eldest boy and then her husband
Warnings: Fluffffyyy Mcfluffy! but really this is just goey soft, warnings being diaper changes, some heavy/smutty flirting between Elvis and Elaine, the sneaky use of marijuana by Jesse and Elaine, stoned silliness talking about mermaid holes and “little scarves” and making a baby at 42
Graceland is abuzz with wedding preparations, every flat surface seems cluttered with tulle or flowers or programs, and every table not full of that sorta rubbish is supporting refreshments for the out of town friends and family swarming the place.
Only Elaine Presley would think entertaining people for a week ahead of a wedding was an easy thing to do.
Despite it being preparations for his own wedding, Jesse finds himself mildly overwhelmed by the sheer abundance surrounding him. Abundance of noise and people and flowers and shit lying about. He made one attempt to squirrel away upstairs in his old room and was summarily dragged away from that attempt by Marie who wanted to take pictures of him and Donna. Then take pictures of him and Jack, citing what a rarity it was to have the whole of them together. Jack had a ugly black eye on him, he cites a bar fight in california but oddly, no story of victory is forthcoming so Jesse assumes he got licked and made no further inquiries.
Donna is now preoccupied with Ella and with Tracey Cooke, laughing and squabbling over choosing boutonniere combinations like it really matters how much baby’s breath gets pinned to a fella’s chest. With Daddy, all large belt and white pants and glowing tan presiding over the floral squabble, Jesse has little doubt that Donna will win by choosing whatever he decides would suit her cheeks best.
Thicker than thieves those two already.
Jesse sees his chance and he ducks out of the living room and books it through the kitchen, receiving a taste test of some icing from Mary as he goes, and finally lets himself out the back door.
He slumps to a seat on the garage steps, and knowing time is precious, he lights up the blunt he stashed in his pocket for times like these. A harmless little pastime he’d probably get decapitated by Daddy for if he found out, but it does the trick and it don’t hurt anyone while he’s homebound and off the road.
A few minutes later the door cracks open behind him and Jesse goes to smash the blunt beneath his boot until in an air conditioned gust he sees it’s just his mama. Elaine smells the stink of grass and makes a little sympathetic noise before closing the door behind her and sitting down next to him.
“But Mama -your shorts!” Jesse protests, her pale blue linen getting soiled by the steps.
“Eh, it’ll brush off.” she grins and bumps his shoulder in that way he knows she’s about to conduct a check up on him. Sure enough after watching him take a few puffs she asks sweetly, “You alright, Butnin?”
He grins at the nickname and his laugh is a cloud of green tinged smoke, “Yeah mama, just tired, took awhile to get to sleep last night.
“What kept ya up?” Elaine asks, knowing with the wedding there might be all sorts of nerves to account for. But Jesse has never exhibited even the slightest hint of unsurety about marrying Donna. He’s had to wait four years and now he’s finally getting what he wants and there’s never been a more lackadaisical groom about his hitching himself to the old ball and chain. Elaine reaches out and ruffles his long hair anyway and smiles at the way there’s a sheen of reddish chocolate amongst the black locks when she tousles them just so.
He hands her the blunt and to be perfectly frank, Elaine has been feeling that old craving for champagne to dilute all the craziness and so she draws on it, letting the smoke burn her lungs and rush to her head.
Jesse’s been puffing for a good bit by now and feeling uninhibited in a way he’d never be even two puffs in -which is sorta the point of the smoke anyway- but it serves to loosen his tongue until he answers her without prevarication, “Mermaid holes.”
It’s true, it’s kept him up. Probably brought on by a chat with Jack and furthered by Jesse’s confusion over his brother’s lack of dating since the Great Gardener Debacle. He knows the kid isn’t embarrassed, not as much as the rest of them, so it serves to reason he’s got a dolphin harem to keep him occupied or else…mermaids. But then, how do mermaids…work?
Elaine glances at the blunt she’s already puffed on and wonders at its strength, wonders if a little relaxation is gonna turn her into seeing pink elephants or talking like an idiot.
“Mermaid holes?” she repeats, the subject suddenly a little more intriguing that it was before her last puff. Her head feels light and her aching toes are a removed sensation and suddenly everything seems quite fascinating, even the beetle crawling up Jesse’s jeans and the curiosity of mermaid anatomy.
This stuff is way better than champagne, she thinks.
“Yeah mama, where do they go?” Jesse insists with his cherubic face puckered up in grave contemplation.
She stares at him concerned while taking another hit before passing it back. “Where normal holes go?” she mutters but even to herself it’s a flimsy speculation.
“Maybe they grow legs n’shit.” Jesse decides. “Like when ya pull ‘em outta the water, maybe they grow legs.”
“Ah that makes sense.” Elaine nods, her face puckered too, and if anyone caught them at this moment it would be like finding carnival twins, so mirrored are they in expression and carriage. “Or maybe it’s higher up!” she suggests eagerly, “Like a belly button.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Or- maybe the scales pull back.” Elaine warms to the theory.
“Ooh,” Jesse draws his exclamation out with admiration for his mama’s sharp mind, “like daddy’s scarf, or some shit.”
“Yes!” Elaine gushes, entirely baked alongside him and utterly unrestrained, “they’ve got shiny little scarfs to keep them safe! Keep out the sand and salt, keep them safe from being aggravated and chafed.”
“Oh lord, mama,” Jesse laughs suddenly, “do you ‘member that time daddy got sand in his scarf? At the beach?”
They both start snickering at the memory from ‘62. “Yes!” Elaine agrees, carefully running a finger below her eyes to collect the smearing mascara as her eyes fill with tears of mirth, “I do but…he caught that frisbee, didn’t he?” she giggles.”And he looked so good in those red shorts. Tiny little things.”
“Mhmm, but at what cost?” Jesse agrees and mother and son lapse into another fit of laughter, not at Elvis’ expense but in that fond way of sensible people who humor their insane beloved ones.
“And Rosalee wantin’ to cut it off so it didn’t hurt him no more!” Jesse wheezes beside her in reminiscence.
“Daisy had a k-bar from Rex, she was ready.” Elaine recalls.
“And Jack was hopin’ it was fatal.”
“He was not!” Elaine slaps Jesse’s arm lightly even as she giggles, “You all act like he was a terrible child but he wasn’t! He was sweet!”
“To you.” Jesse clutches his belly. “To the rest he was pretty fuckin’ scary for awhile there, made ‘Elvis’ shit himself sometimes.”
“Language!” Elaine reprimands without any heat, “Y’all didn’t see all the mornings that little darling would wake up and laugh his heart out with Daddy playing shark under the covers. They loved each other…at times.”
“Hmm, Mhmm, i’guess.” Jesse concedes, “Jack’s a lot more tolerable now he’s got his own thing going.” he adds.
“Yes, always good to establish yourself, especially with someone like that, so headstrong both of them.” she murmurs with a sigh, “No house was built for two Elvises.” and she starts snickering again at that thought or whatever scenario it inspired inside her head.
“Maybe he’s chilled out ‘cause of the mermaid harem.” Jesse suggests because Jack is still Jack and having his shit straight ain’t in his wheelhouse. Not all of it, at least. Something’s gotta be up, Jesse can feel it, clear as the kid’s black eye.
“Those dimples would make any mermaid grow legs.” Elaine giggles.
“No mama, it’s a scarf, we decided it’s a shiny scarf.” Jesse reminds, nearly falling off the stair that he’s seated on from his wooziness.
“Yes a little scarf.” Elaine recalls as the door behind them opens and Jesse’s soon to be wife, Donna, steps out and observes them and the skunk grass fumes wafting around them.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me -Ms. Elaine!” Donna gasps in glee at this little rebellion in her otherwise entirely circumspect mother in law.
Elaine spins round with the blunt still between her painted lips and pulls it out in a gust of smoke, a wavering grin on her face. Donna’s not sure she’s ever seen her look so young, though she gets that way around Jesse, like he takes her back to her early mothering days.
“Don’t tell daddy!” Elaine vacillates between a beg and a threat but her smile grows and Donna wonders how the stoned lady intends to keep this a secret but she makes a motion of zipping her mouth anyway.
“Won’t hear it from me!” she swears, “But Elvis is asking for you, he’s halfway through a diaper change and can’t find any wipes. He swears you’ve got the disposable kind somewhere. Johnny tried to find them but he’s given up, too.”
“Oh lord, little Desi uses them to ‘remove her makeup’ so- who knows where they might be.” Elaine refers to her eldest grandchild, Ella’s little girl who likes to mimic her grandmother in all ways. Elaine stands up with a wobble that is steadied by Jesse’s shoulder and Donna’s waiting hands. “Wait, who’s getting their diaper changed?” She asks, suddenly confused by the request, “Did Danny soil himself? Thought we were past that.”
Danny is three and potty trained and as independent as he is loving, and much as Elaine is proud of her toddler’s successes, she misses having a baby, a true baby, in the house.
“It’s one of the neighbor kids, Danny’s friend-“ Donna explains, “-they brought their baby sibling along, no more than a year old I bet. The mom’s at work or something.”
“Oh, alright then.” Elaine shrugs, accustomed to strangers in the house, and she opens the door.
“You’re going in?” Donna asks in some surprise and a little alarm.
“Yes, Elvis needs me.” Elaine answers and that’s not something anyone can argue against and so Donna steps aside and makes certain her mother in law doesn’t trip over the threshold in her heeled sandals.
“Do you really give a damn about those boutonnieres?” Jesse asks his girl as soon as mama has closed the door
“Oh not really.” Donna murmurs, “They’re gonna be gorgeous either way. Elvis is seeing to that.”
“Then don’t go back inside.” Jesse suggests with a drunk grin and his blue eyes beg with such softness as he pats his lap that Donna has no choice but to plop atop his legs and stay with him in the muggy heat.
Miss Mary watched Elaine sashay through the kitchen with narrowed eyes, she’d not seen such a hip swinging gait to the lady of the house in years. A decade perhaps, not since the house used to rock with parties and before the champagne had been used like medicine.
“Lordy Miss Laney, you alright there?” she asked carefully, amusedly watching Mrs. Presley stand atip-toe and rummage in a cabinet, pushing aside spray oil and vanilla.
“Yes, grand, just needing that emergency stash.” Elaine assured over her shoulder and Mary paused in whipping the icing lest she be needed to catch a teetering boss lady. “Aha.” Elaine pulled out a package, “Of these!” she explained as she turned round, presenting the new fangled package of disposable wipes.
Stashed behind the cooking oil. Sure, why not.
Miss Mary grinned back and shrugged, “You’ve got dirt on your behind, Miss Elaine.” she pointed out and the elegant lady of the house was swatting at her plush derrière with a bashful grin as she traipsed out of the kitchen in search of Mr. Elvis, still swaying and jovial.
Entering the somewhat crowded dining room, Elaine found a group of people congregating with outstretched hands and feebly helpful concern around her Ella’s Johnny who had Rosalee standing on his shoulders, switching out a bulb as if they couldn’t afford ladders.
“ ‘Lee?” Elaine questioned it with even less reproof than usual, fully used to such bizarre occurrences and entirely baked by this point, Jesse’s weed having turned everything to middling interest and zero concern, even the picture of Rosalee a good ten or more feet in the air and swaying precariously with feet planted on Johnny’s broad shoulders.
“The bulb’s out!” Rosalee explained with a face red from straining to reach the high mansion ceiling despite her human stepstool and her inherited long limbs.
“Oh, the bulb’s out.” Elaine repeated softly, processing as she stared out the dining room windows at the bright sunshine glaring through.
“Hey Mrs P!” Johnny, tried to turn his neck to face her but Rosalee wobbled from the movement and so he went back to parade rest. “Elvis was looking for ya, needed the wipes for a diaper. I couldn’t find them anywhere, I swear Desi buries them in the potted palms or somethin-“
“Oh I’ve got some right here.” Elaine smiled and waved her package in front of his face enthusiastically.
“Oh. Great.” Johnny’s frown lines deepened in confusion at her enthusiasm. “I uh, I tried looking behind the dog food, Elvis said you keep one there.”
“This one was behind the cookin’ oil.” She whispered conspiratorially and Johnny gave his brief, aborted giggle that had made Elaine like him the instant Ella paraded him through the doors.
“Behind the cooking oil. Naturally.” He quipped and Elaine swatted him with the package causing Rosalee to shriek and beg for stability. “Hey Ella. Mama’s found some wipes!” Johnny called to his still searching wife.
“Where were they, mama?” She asked, coming into view and pushing her hair from her face, not even surprised by the bulb changing.
“Behind the cooking oil.” Elaine tapped the side of her nose and giggled while Johnny and Ella shared a bewildered look between the two of them.
“Where’s my fella?” Elaine purred, looking around the semi crowded room as if it were possible to overlook Elvis Presley. Only at Graceland, during one of Elaine’s parties and surrounded by a horde of children was it possible for Elvis to be anything but the center of attention.
“He’s in Rosalee’s room, mama.” Ella informed her, which in turn had once been Gladys' little lilac refuge. It had taken ten years for Elaine to ease Elvis into using it but eventually a long succession of single, halfway liberated teenage children ended up sleeping in it before moving out to seize life by the horns and pave their own lives and pay their own rent.
It would be quite a few years before Marie had need of it, if the sweet little girl ever even needed it, so devoutly home enjoying as she was, Graceland or Circle G, Texas or California, it all was the same to Marie so long as she was with family. Graceland would sooner be seen giving Marie Presley the boot than Marie Presley voluntarily taking leave for good.
Elaine moved her way through her crowded home with a pleasant smile on her face and a discrete hunch to her shoulders that enabled her to slip past the various conversations wishing to clutch at her, an old art of being able to get from one end of a crowded place to the next when needed by husband or child, that she had honed to perfection.
She felt dizzy and tasted a strange surge of anticipation the closer she got to the tucked away little room downstairs, it might seem silly, but she missed him. Everything had been so very busy the past few days that she had seen her own husband about as much as everyone else had, across crowded rooms or smashed together on sofas, wonderful instances that were topped off every night with a bed crowded with children and grandchildren and adopted God sons and daughters.
There had not been a moment's peace practically, and in a girlish moment of someone newly assured of affection, Elaine felt her fingertips tingle when she reached for the knob and opened the door.
He had pulled the shades and the blindes, which with the glare of the rest of the house was hardly a surprising choice, and only the lamp was turned on in a room that was now no longer Gladys’ soft lilac but now Rosalee’s light sage painted walls, copious English ivy plants spilling over the tops of wooden bookshelves lining the walls. The floor was a plush ivory carpet and Elvis sat on it with one leg tucked in and the other stretched out, his white linen shirt and pale blue slacks looking perfectly at home in Rosalee‘s habitat, blending well with the academic and whimsical atmosphere. Elaine leaned on the knob and appreciated the sight of a stranger's little baby, no more than a year old surely, laying on its back in the vee of his long legs, disposed of diaper safely out of reach, midway through a process that had been stalled by lack of wipes.
Not to be thrown by such unforeseen occurrences, Elvis had waited it out until his Tink came for him as he always expected she would, and in the meantime he was making earnest conversation with the infant about the Christmas list, even though it was currently summertime. They were weighing whether or not a chainsaw could be made to size for such little hands, Elvis’ own lean, tan and long fingers squished a doughy bicep playfully and insisted that the child was almost capable.
“Awww looooook at youuu.” Elaine cooed, leaning heavily on the door knob and clutching her chest at the sight, the raucous outside the room having disguised the sound of her opening the door to Elvis’ ear.
He looked up with a disoriented look as if having quite forgotten the world outside him and the baby’s Christmas plan until his eyes landed on Elaine in the doorway and his grin flashed, the old natural one, all cheesy teeth and lips tucked in. “You got my wipes?”
“I do.” She preened.
“Well, hand ‘em over woman, I’m bout ready to gag over here.” he beckoned, rings still glittering on his hand and Elaine didn’t doubt that one day the baby would tell stories about how Elvis Presley changed their diaper without even taking off his bling for it.
Elaine closed the door behind her and traipsed over to him on jelly legs, her heeled sandals sinking precariously into the deep shag of the carpet, she steadied herself on his shoulder and handed down the wipes.
He looked her up and down with curious amusement, as if something was amiss but he couldn’t place it, yet with diaper stench so close he didn’t spend time on it. Elvis took the wipes and began to complete his task, Elaine sank down to her knees beside him and put her chin on his shoulder, watching him work, wrapping her arms around his waist like a clingy little koala to his back.
“Who is he?” she asked her husband about the baby he was tending so naturally. It wasn’t uncommon, their house being constantly full of strangers and friends of friends and their children’s buddies. She had seen Elvis caring for a kid or two like this before, or else baths or a good hosing off or, without fail, he provided them snacks at the least suggestion of hunger or even boredom. But she didn’t know this little one and something about seeing Elvis at this task when their Danny was too grown for it -it made her sentimental and she held on a little tighter, squeezing her appreciation for the sight into his flesh.
“Kid brother of Clarke, the kid two blocks over?” he explained, “The one Danny invites? Yeah, apparently their mama’s workin’ double shift today and the babysitter stepped out and Clarke thought he’d come on here since the house was empty. Poor little feller must’ve been scared stiff.”
“You mean little Clarke walked all that way carrying a baby?” she gasped.
“Yeah,” Elvis grunted. “I sent Sammy H. to go stay at the house and let the mama know her kids ain’t been stole by that trash sitter. Poor woman.”
“Poor woman.” Elaine echoed, neither of them ever quite getting used to the tales of hardship they were uniquely situated to hear of day after day. “Well, you tell her Elvis, tell her we’ll watch him from now on, Clarke too. Danny needs more friends his age besides. -What’s his name?” she asked after a minute of babbling to him herself.
“Dunno, but he responds well to buddy.” He shrugged, “Ain’t that right, buddy, huh? I ain’t forgot about lettin’ you play the piano, Buddy, no I haven’t, Uncle Elvis keeps his word, yes he does.”
Elvis could feel her grin grow behind his back and like clockwork her anticipated finger came and scritched at his right sideburn with her nail. “I’ve missed seeing you with babies.” she whispered with a giggle.
“We have a baby.” Elvis let out that staccato, huffing laugh of his.
“Danny is three.” Elaine pouted.
“And you’re four—ty…twooo.” Elvis goofed as he propped the newly changed and docile little boy up on his roly-poly legs.
“I’ve already had a baby as a grandmother.” Tink mused and she cocked her head to the side and watched the baby wobble towards Elvis with his entire little hands clutched onto Elvis’ index fingers like handlebars. “But I married such a pretty boy.” she sighs as if out of nowhere and drags her hand admiringly right down the length of Elvis’ bicep, in appreciation for the flexed muscle beneath linen.
Elvis let’s out a little squeak of surprise and turns on his ass to give his wife a more searching once over. She stays grinning on her knees, long tanned legs tucked beneath her in those light blue shorts that coordinate with his trousers, loopy grin on her face.
“Lord have mercy,” he falls back a little, taking the baby with him in his scramble till they look like little lambs being watched by a ready to pounce cat, “Aunt Delta spike the punch again?”
It’s not that Elvis doesn’t appreciate when Tink gets…admiring…but she sure does pick the queerest times for it, in his mind. The hell was so dreamy about wiping shit? He’s yet to understand her in many ways but from over twenty years of marriage, he knows those glossy eyes ain’t from eye drops.
“No, nobody’s touched the punch.” she giggles and begins to crawl closer, dyed auburn hair falling forward in large, barrel rolled curls.
The baby boy begins to laugh, thinking she’s playing tiger. Effortless Elaine switches into the role he wants and raises a hand like a claw and makes a dive for the baby's round little belly and Elvis ducks and rolls, taking him with him.
“Careful, careful, Laney, there’s a diaper -“
-somewhere.
He’s not sure where, it’s a mercy his back doesn’t squash it or his head thud in its foamy fullness as he rolls away from his wife, a stranger's kid giggling like mad while braced to his chest. He throws a halfhearted karate kick at her and the angle is awkward with being mid roll and on his side, she grabs his leg anyways and proceeds to tickle his ankle and he aims his kicks in earnest in response. Elaine straddles his leg as he lays on his side and she crows like it’s some victory, then sways in confusion, like she’s second guessing her own success.
He can practically see the slow as molasses thought process in her airy little head. The hell did his wife take? There’s no liquor on her breath and she swore -they made vows to each other, each giving up the drugs and booze that had gotten them estranged from each other and themselves. He knows she wouldn’t. “What now?” he asks her in dry amusement and after much thought and no production, she shrugs and slips off his leg, landing with a wince inducing thump by his side.
“I dunno.” she admits and closes her eyes, small smile on her lips as they lay panting on the floor, the clink of Elvis’ rings the only immediate sound as the baby plays with them between the married couple. “I just missed you.” she says.
“Well, I missed you too.” he melts, throwing his arm out and running his fingers through her splaying hair. She leans into the touch, grin fully breaking out.
“Our boy is getting married.” she murmurs, as in the production of the whole thing, the significance has dwindled except for the quiet moments.
“Strangest thing, that it’s time for that.” Elvis agrees, softly. “I ‘member him just this age, rollin’ ‘round with me on the floor in Bad Nauheim, got more carpet burns than him. Now…Gettin’ married.” he let out a long whistle and scratched at Elaine’s scalp. “I don’t feel that old.” he admitted after awhile.
Whatever mood Tink was in, whatever goofy laziness had imbued her with such sangfroid about her duties and her guests, it served for a much needed little heart to heart and Elvis snuggled closer to her on the shag carpet and let the baby climb over his shoulder and pull at his hair, wincing at the small tortures but determined not to be a wimp.
“I don’t feel old either.” she agreed and her eyes popped open, the grin suddenly going from dreamy to having a decidedly vampiric quality. Elvis had often seen that look on his wife right before he got eaten alive.
“Sweet Jesus -no, simmer down, simmer down. Tink!” he tried to avert the plans swirling in her glossy eyes.
“Doesn’t my pretty baby wanna make me happy?” she cooed to him and between the actual baby tugging at his hair and the wife patting his cheeks it was all a guess to Elvis whether he was a father of a twenty something son or Elaine Presley’s pretty boy, ever at her disposal.
“Mamas, if you needs…some…tenda lovin’ care…” he gave her a significant look of expectation to understand his child-proof code, “then we can go find ourselves a little space in this house and uh…tend to it. Bed’s been real full, I know.” he soothed.
Elaine clutched her heart dramatically again and sighed, staring at the ceiling before propping up on an elbow again and gripping his chin with her hand, she put her face next to his and whispered with throaty care, “What I want, pretty daddy, is to maul you.”
And with that she laid back down beside him, after having watched her words register and the punched out moan of his gust over her lips. She stared back at the ceiling and sighed. “It’ll have to wait, but…soon.”
Elvis licked his dry lips with a tongue that had suddenly gone equally arid. “O-o-okey mamas.” he stuttered out in a whisper that ended with a wheeze as the baby hoisted themselves to dance on his belly like it were a trampoline.
“I’m very wet right now.” Elaine began again after he thought they’d shelved it.
“Laney!” he begged.
“I am!” she hissed petulantly, kicking up a leg and shaking her foot at the ceiling, “It’s making sticky noises when I walk.”
“I-I-I highly doubt that.”
“It is!” She insisted.
“Alright. It is. If you say so…ok.”
“Nothing to do about it though.” she sighed.
“No.” he agreed warily.
“What would you name him.” she asked suddenly, turning on her side and offering her hand as stability for the baby balancing on Elvis’ stomach. Good thing he had muscles of steel or else he’d be a mess right now with the digging little footsteps.
“Name who?“ Elvis sputtered, bewildered by the changes in topic.
“This baby. If he was ours.”
“Oh.” He sniffed. “I dunno, actually. Baron, maybe?”
“Hmm..” Elaine was unenthused.
“Who says we’d have another boy though?” he argued suddenly, “I mean who says this hypothetical baby we ain’t gonna make -no we ain’t mama’s, you’re crazy- would be a boy. What if it was a girl.”
“I’d name her Peace.” Elaine didn't skip a beat.
Elvis pondered that, fingers back to stroking the curls splayed on the carpet, “Mm. Shiloh.”
Hope y’all enjoyed! I’ve missed these babies and I’m grateful for y’all’s patience. Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me. 💋
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Loving You
Word Count: 1,115
Writers Note: Alright another smut but fluffy
Warning: SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Pairing: OC x Elvis
Plot: With the temperatures dropping in Memphis on an early morning in October of 1957, Elvis and Cecelia decide to spend the morning finding ways to keep warm.
Taglist: If you wanna be tagged let me know!
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Graceland October 1957
The Tennessee Fall winds whistled as the beautiful colors of orange, brown, and rustic red leaves twirled around from their tree branches and onto the grounds of Graceland. For once, on the big pile of land, it was peaceful from the animals to Elvis's cousins, who'd usually be running amuck in the house by now. But right now, there was a sweet, sleepy haze glazing the mansion like morning dew on the grass. In the master bedroom laid Elvis and his new budding romance, as the papers would say, Cecelia Valmos. Who was all cuddled up in his chest. Elvis's arms were around her waist, and his face was on her shoulder,
"Cece wouldja quit wigglin..." Elvis commanded with sleepy laughter.
"I would if I wasn't so cold." her morning voice was raspy and still filled with sleep.
"Keep movin like that, and you'll be gettin warm quicker, mama..." his hot breath touched her ear, and her body pressed up against his already hardening cock.
"You promise, Mr. Presley? she teased as she soon felt passionate, sloppy kisses on her shoulder blade. Elvis then took his hand as he gave her thigh a playful squeeze,
"Mmm... Elvis..."
"Already calling my name, and I just begun baby..." he kept creeping his hand up slower under her pink negligee. Trying to get to the prize that was her pink silk panties, lacing a finger around the band, he shimmed them off her, watching her body shiver at the cold breeze grazing against her feverish spot.
"El!"
"Won't be needing those." he laughed as her heart rate quickened,
"Then I guess you can lose the pants, sweetheart..." Elvis could hear the smirk in her voice as she began pulling down his pajama pants, "A frisky little kitten, heh..." pulling her on top of him as she giggled,
"They don't call me the rock n roll pinup for nothing, baby." peppering his skin soft kisses as she saw the love and lust he had for her in his hazy blue eyes,
"Cece..."
"Hmm..."
"You look beautiful..." his hand grazing her cheek as she leaned into his touch.
"You're just saying that to get under my nightgown." Cecelia joked,
"Is it working?" he winked, watching her pull the dress over her head as she flung the material somewhere across his bedroom. He'd seen her body in this state many times, but it was always a gift to know it was all his to look at and love. "Think that means yes...." he mumbled.
"How do I look..." she posed,
"Like you could give Marilyn a run for her money."
"Do you mean it?" she blushed as he gave her a quick peck on the lips.
"Doll... I mean it," he smirked. The kiss between the two was as sweet as candy and as pure as cane sugar. Small kisses trailed down his jawline as Cecelia yawned in the middle of it. A lazy, passionate morning and the couple was excited about it either way.
"You wanna maybe put me in the game, coach..."
"How good is your tackle?" before Cecelia could even process what happened. Elvis was on top of Cecelia, kissing her legs, stomach, breast, and finally, her lips again.
"El..."
"Hmmm..."
"We don't have much time before everyone else wakes up," she whispered in his ear.
"Just makes it a fun challenge." Cecelia gripped Elvis as she felt her walls expanding to his size. She always loved the sensation of the stretch, the pain, and pleasure, the shiver down her spine.
"Shit...Shit...Shit..."
"You okay, baby?" his face was full of concern. "I can stop i-i-if you want me to ."
"It's okay, just adjusting, is all." holding his face.
"Cil, if you're in pain..."
"El... I'm fine. I've had cramps that hurt worse." She laughed, "Oh, you can move now." She held his hand as she felt him move, a bit slower than they'd usually go, but she loved it nonetheless,
"This okay?"
"Perfect." she gasped at each jolt of his hips and every sensual kiss. Her fingers in his hair as he pulled her closer to him,
"Cecelia... Fuck..." he grunted in her ear,
"You like that baby..." she pulled at his hair again,
"Mhmm..." his hips quicking up on the pace, his breathing a bit shaky. He was starting to get closer to the finish line until he felt a bit of a weight change.
"Hello, gorgeous."
"Gorgeous, have you seen yourself in a mirror." she teased, her hands laying on his chest as he kissed both palms of her hands.
"I have." he laughed as a grunt escaped his lips. Cecelia had looked like an Angel sent down for him to love, with the morning sun shining down on her. But his favorite view was her rising and falling on his cock, the sounds of her moans, his hips thrusting into her, the sounds of skin on skin. It made his heart beat,
"Oh, baby!!"
"Cecelia!"
"Elvis! Fuck... Faster baby, faster!"
"Right there, Cece!"
It was as if the two were scratching the itch the other couldn't reach. When Cecelia arched her back and held onto his legs, it was game over for Elvis, his hips moving faster than the flash could even run.
There were curses that his mother would disapprove of leaving his lips, but he'd sin every day if it meant he was buried deep into his heaven that was moaning,
"Elvis, don't stop... Give me all you got!"
"Can you take all that I got." kissing down her neck, nearly pounding into her, pouring all the love he had for her into each and every thrust.
"Baby!! Ah!"
"You feel so good wrapped around me, baby!" Finally, the coil for them both snapped, and Cecelia's eyes rolled as she had, had quite the most mind-numbing cock drunk orgasm.
"Cece, you okay." he laughed a little,
"Mhmm..."
"Need me to..."
"Don't you dare pull out..." she commanded.
"Yes, Ms. Valmos."
Pulling the covers back on top of them, Elvis laid down with his arms around Cecelia.
It was a peaceful and serene morning at Graceland, no longer cold. The winds whistled, and the fall leaves fell from outside the window. But all the love was from inside,
"Honey, I think I just rolled over one of your rollers..."
"Mmm... Don't worry about it." Cecelia kissed his chin, "Mind singing us back to sleep?" she murmured,
"Mmm, but it'll cost ya." he teased,
I will spend my whole life through
Loving you, loving you
Winter, summer, springtime, too
Loving you, loving you
Makes no difference where I go or what I do
You know that I'll always be loving you
#fanfiction#oc#new stuff#new#elvis presley#elvis fanfiction#elvis the pelvis#1950s elvis#elvis x oc smut#50s elvis#new smut#Spotify
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Omggg cg!Elvis x littleF!reader who’s sick and keeps slipping into littlespace cuz of how sick she is so he takes care of her despite the possibility of him getting sick? 🥺
Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you like it <3
🧚 Masterlist 🧚
Word count: 2,135
Pairing: Early 70's CG!Elvis x Little F!Reader
Oh Lord, you were trying so hard, so so hard to be a big girl.
You knew that Elvis had so much on his schedule, the Colonel was working him and you too by default. You'd been on the road with Elvis, helping out where you could like the good little girlfriend you were, but it had become all a bit too much and you had caught some sort of bug that was making you feel all kinds of miserable.
And when you were ill, well, that was the most sure fire way for you to slip into little space. You just weren't very good at being independent and coping with the overwhelming and horrible feelings you were having.
But you were trying, you really, really were. You didn't want to interfere with the schedule, Elvis had a lot on his mind and you'd be damned to cross paths with the Colonel when there was so much money to be made. Even when you were feeling your best, you still didn't like to even be in the same room as the Colonel.
All morning you'd felt achey, sore and tingly all over with a fever creeping in. Naturally, you'd been quieter than usual, trying to stop yourself from slipping but it was becoming inevitable.
Your body just wasn't strong enough and you felt exhausted and vulnerable as you sat in Elvis' dressing room as he did a run-through of his show tonight.
You'd found a spare blanket and you were curled up in the corner of the large couch as members of staff and the Memphis Mafia alike walked past you, a few giving concerned looks your way, in particular, Red, who watched as you rested your head on your arms and closed your eyes.
See, being in the state that you were in meant that you had absolutely no concept of time and when you were woken from the light slumber you were in, you had no idea how long you'd been asleep for.
"Baby?" That familiar deep, Southern voice hushed, laced with concern as your eyes sleepily opened, staring up at Elvis who was studying your state with worry on his face after Red had told him that you seemed unusually low today.
You blinked adorably up at him and if you weren't so apparently sick, Elvis would do the most unspeakable things to you.
Elvis sighed, realising how wiped and sick you were as he put the back of his coarse hand on your forehead to check your temperature, which was far too high for his liking.
You couldn't bring yourself to speak, you felt all achey and sore and your head was just so fuzzy that you were pretty much ready to let tears spill down your cheeks.
And Elvis could tell. He'd been with you for long enough now to know your little space 'tells'. You'd go non-verbal, your eyes would get all big and round and glossy, because even after all this time, you still got nervous about being little in front of Elvis - a fact that Elvis actually thought was very sweet and endearing. You'd start chewing on something too, whether it was your toy stuffy, your lip or your fingers, you'd chew on something as you tried to get all your thoughts in order. And there you were, chewing on your lip as you trembled from the fever.
"Oh little one, you ain't feelin' too good huh?" Elvis cooed, to which you shook your head ever so slightly. "Oh baby. Need me to look after you, princess?" Elvis asked as you pushed yourself up feebly, the blanket pooling by your waist as you nodded and rubbed your eyes sweetly.
Effortlessly, Elvis scooped you up in his big, strong arms and your head automatically went to rest on his shoulder as you began to chew on your fingers anxiously, wanting this horrible feeling to go away.
"Y/N is comin' down with somethin' nasty, I'm gon' take care of her, let everyone know they can go home, I ain't leavin' her today." Elvis said to Jerry before he carried you to his private elevator that took him right to the suite that the two of you shared at the top of the International.
As soon as the doors closed, Elvis began to rock you gently. "Gon' get you undressed baby, take off all yer clothes and get you in the tub, give you some medicine that's gon' make you feel all good n'better then we're gon' get you into bed to rest n' take it easy. How does that sound pretty girl?" Elvis soothed.
You nodded into his shoulder, feeling vulnerable and weak as he held you tightly, you couldn't help but let out a couple of sniffles too.
"Little one, d'ya think you can use your words f'me?" Elvis said. He knew you'd go non-verbal whenever you were feeling overwhelmed and little, and usually he wouldn't push you, but when you were feeling little and sick, he needed to know that you could still understand what he was saying and there wasn't anything more serious that was underlying.
"J-Just, don't feel good Daddy." You whimpered and oh if Elvis' heart hadn't broken in two when he first saw you on that couch, it certainly had now.
The name that you'd just called him was definitive confirmation that you were deep in little space and you needed to be treated as delicately as possible.
"I know baby, I know you don't, Daddy's gon' take care of you." Elvis promised, kissing the top of your head as you got out of the elevator into the suite.
Elvis wasted no time in taking you straight to the bathroom, sitting you atop the bathroom the counter as he rolled up the sleeves on his blue silk shirt, one that you'd actually picked out for him because you thought he would look "extra pretty" in it and began to run the bathtub full of warm water for you. He then went through the bathroom cabinet, through the one that held all of the medicines you may need for any particular reason, before he found the right one for your fever and chills.
"Now, you gotta be a brave girl f'me, I know this don't taste too good baby, but it's gon' help make you better, 'kay?" Elvis said as he poured the medicine onto a spoon, ready to feed you as you watched on, grimacing a bit, you hated having to take medicine.
"I don't wanna..." You practically whispered.
"Darlin', I know it ain't nice, but you gotta take it like a good girl, can you do that fr'me?" Elvis said, his tone becoming a little sterner than before, you taking your medicine is not something he was going to compromise on.
You nodded but not without small tears forming, making Elvis feel quietly guilty, he wished that it was him that was sick, he'd give anything to swap places with you. It really did pain him to see you in this state.
"Okay, open them pretty lips fr'me angel, just like that, good." Elvis encouraged as he fed you the spoon with the medicine.
He used his pointer finger on his other hand to poke just under your jaw ever so slightly to close your mouth around the spoon. "Good." He hissed, nodding in approval at how good you were being.
Slowly, he took the spoon out of your mouth as he studied your face, your eyes staring up at him as your nose scrunched up at the sour tasting medicine.
"Baby, that medicine ain't gon' do a damn thing stuck in your mouth like that." Elvis half-heartedly chuckled, knowing you were being a little too stubborn for your own good. "Swallow." He commanded gently.
And, like the good girl you were, you did just that - although with a grimace on your sweet little face the entire time.
"Good girl." Elvis praised softly, as he began to take off your clothes for your bath.
You watched as his coarse, ring-clad hands traced your skin, causing shivers to travel through your already sensitive skin. Elvis hushed you reassuringly, saying sweet nothings to reassure you that you were okay, that he was your Daddy and he was going to make you better, and you believed him.
After you were fully undressed and after Elvis checked the water temperature, Elvis helped you into the tub where you instantly loved the sensation of the hot water on your shivering skin.
"Does my little girl like that?" Elvis smiled warmly as he watched you smile for the first time today, even if it was only a small one.
You nodded as you brought your knees to your chest to rest your head on your knees, your head tilted so you could watch your Daddy.
Elvis grabbed a loofah and took to gently washing you, getting you all soapy and lathered up in the suds as he watched you practically preen in delight at his touch.
"Bein' such a good girl fr' Daddy, ain'tcha?" Elvis soothed.
"Yes Daddy." You said sweetly, your eyes closed in bliss as Elvis continued to wash you all over.
"That's right, that's my girl." Elvis praised as he held out one of your arms to wash it, as if you were some sort of a doll for him to move as he pleased. You were so malleable and so sweet and Elvis loved nothing more than to take care of you.
When Elvis was done washing you, he scooped you up out of the tub and wrapped you up in a fluffy towel, holding you tightly and peppering you in kisses, eliciting a few soft giggles from you.
He knew you were feeling little, you were so overwhelmed and he knew the last week had taken it's toll on you. You were a little people pleaser, so much so, that you'd taken on much more than sweet, little you could manage. You would comply to anyones request and you'd caused yourself to become burnt out and Elvis couldn't help but feel responsible for not stepping in sooner - even if he knew that if he had stepped in, you would've begged him to let you help out as much as possible because you were just a little angel sent from heaven.
Elvis quickly got you dressed into your favourite pyjamas that you wore when you were feeling little. They had cartoon horses on them and you'd adorably named each one, one morning whilst Elvis was reading his paper and drinking his morning coffee.
He took special care as he dressed you, mindful that your body was still tender and sore.
As Elvis led you to your bed, you began to feel all drowsy and achey again, making you extra clingy and needy with Elvis, but he secretly didn't mind.
Elvis tucked you up in bed and placed your stuffed bunny in your little grasp, smoothing back your hair that had fallen in front of your face.
After placing a kiss atop of your head, Elvis began to make his way from the bedroom to let you sleep before he heard a whine come from your lips.
"Oh honey, what's the matter?" Elvis cooed, making his way back to the bed before you reached out your arms wide and made grabby hands at Elvis, making him chuckle ever so.
"Daddy, stay," You whimpered. You were not in any fit state to not be close to Elvis. "Don't go, need you." You mumbled cutely.
Elvis smirked as he began to remove his shoes and get atop the bed, next to you, placing one arm across the pillows where your head rested so that you were able to slot into his side and snuggle into him as you clasped onto your stuffed bunny too.
"I ain't goin' anywhere baby, now rest your eyes honey, you need to get your strength back little one." Elvis instructed, his fingers running through your hair, sending shivers through you as you let your eyes close.
Elvis continued to play with your hair as he reached over to his bed-side table with his other hand and grab the telephone.
"Jer? Yeah, Jer, tell the Colonel to tell whoever needs to know that the show ain't happenin' tonight, reschedule, cancel, I don't care. I gotta take care of Y/N, ain't no way I'm leavin' her tonight, not in the state she's in. Okay. Thanks Jer." Elvis said into the receiver before putting it down again.
You couldn't help but feel bad as you nestled into Elvis' side. "Daddy?" You said meekly.
"Yes baby?"
"You don't got to cancel your show Daddy." You said softly, your big eyes looking up at his blue ones.
"Little one, I ain't ever wanna do a show if you ain't in the crowd." Elvis said firmly and you knew he wasn't going to budge on the matter - and with that you drifted off in the arms of your Daddy.
#elvis#elvis presley#elvis x reader#elvis imagine#elvis smut#elvis x y/n#elvis fluff#elvis x you#70s elvis#yandere elvis#cg!elvis#elvis fans#50s elvis#elvis fanfic#elvis presley x reader#elvis x oc#elvis angst#little reader#little!reader#innocent!reader#innocent reader#innocence kink
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Just A Man
| A Soldier's Song Installment |
Summary -> As the weeks leading up to Elvis' deployment to Europe begin to dwindle you and Elvis try to help your son understand what it will mean. Meanwhile, inevitable tensions between you and Elvis are pushed to the side as the two of you figure sex is better than facing your issues, especially with such little time left together.
Warnings -> mention of family death, domestic fluff, flirting, mention of war, pre-deployment, Elvis being a young dad & husband, (much needed) sex with 50s Elvis, angsty undertones, smut, kitchen sex, swearing, foot kink, stocking kink, almost footjob(?), breeding kink, oral (f. receiving), unsafe sex
WC -> 5.8k
A/N -> So this is more of a prologue to the actual events of which this au series is based upon, to sort of give a glance into what life was like before Elvis gets deployed to Europe, I hope you enjoy it! In the next installment, we WILL see Elvis in uniform.
This is an installation of the A Soldier's Song AU
“That one made my hand hurt Frankie!”
The little boy giggled at his daddy’s shocked face.
That battering of a baseball against a leather mitt is all that kept you company on the back porch of your home. Watching the two boys, your two boys, in the yard tossing the ball back and forth puts a smile on your face, but as you turn your head to the empty chair next to you that smile falls ever so slightly, missing the warmth that often emanated from that chair.
Elvis had been at basic training when she passed and was only able to make it back in time for her funeral, but even then while you were a wreck he remained as strong as he could. He held you in one arm and held your little boy in the other as the service proceeded.
You’d only had two grief-filled days with him before he went back to finish his basic training, you couldn’t even figure out whether or not he’d really come to terms with his mama because it all happened so fast. And now you’d only have a few final weeks with your man, all crisp and in shape from basic training, till he was off to a poor war-stricken country in Europe.
With that in mind you remembered to smile, in the knick of time too as Elvis looked up at you after running to pick up the stray ball that had rolled along the grass toward the porch due to your little boy’s poor aim.
He stared up at you like the school boy he used to be, and said with that tone of voice you’d often heard since he first laid eyes on you, “Hey there Cutie”
And like the school girl you used to be, you’d blush and only offer a small smile as you waved him off, “Go play with your son”
Elvis gave you that look, he wanted to say something he couldn’t say in front of young ears. He got up, ball in one hand while he wore his leather brown mitt on the other, with each step up the wood porch his smile grew, you could feel his curled lips on your cheek as he leaned down to kiss it.
Then quietly he’d murmur in a cooing, baby-talk type tone,
“Daddy wants to play with Mama though”
You rolled your eyes and put a placating hand on his clean-shaven cheek. After leaning forward to press a quick peck to his lips you spoke quietly with that same baby-talk curve to your voice,
“Daddy can play with Mama when Baby goes to bed”
Elvis smiled softly at you and mumbled out a soft and assured, “Alright”, before stepping away to go back down onto the grass, giving Francis, or as Elvis nicknamed him, Frankie, an underhanded toss of the ball.
You turned one last time to the other chair and the empty cushion on it, you couldn’t look at it anymore. Thankfully you were needed elsewhere as you could smell the roast in the oven drift through the window of the kitchen out onto the porch.
After going inside as you tended to the food you could watch Francis and Elvis play about in the yard, it was quite big, but the two of them only remained within a small portion, part of the reason could’ve been because Francis couldn’t yet throw very far.
The sun was setting and the light practically flickered off of Elvis’ hair. Now being in the army he didn’t bother with that black dye, it would just be washed out as soon as he was back at base after all. And it wasn’t like he’d be making movies or releasing songs anytime soon, no not with what he was on his way to do in a few weeks.
You could just barely hear Elvis’ voice as he praised your son, “Frank my boy you might be the Babe Ruth of your generation if ya keep at it”. You couldn’t help but shake your head with a smile, Elvis talking to Francis as if the four-year-old knew who the Babe was and as if he knew what the word “generation” meant.
It was in Elvis’ nature to talk to children in that way though. He always treated them like little adults. You couldn’t recall a time when Elvis didn’t speak to children that way. His mama had made fun of him for it when Francis was two and he could only remark, “Frank is just people, like you and me are just people”
Oh goodness, you thought of her again.
You don’t think a day goes by when you don’t think about her. Elvis’ mama was a godsend, truly. And while he’d never open up about it, you know it’s affecting Elvis immensely. She was so involved in your life ever since you entered Elvis’ and she was always sweet and welcoming.
You could think back to a time not too long ago when after you’d eloped with Elvis and announced the news of your pregnancy at the young age of 18, your parents kicked you to the curb, but she welcomed you with open arms.
At the time Elvis was still driving a truck he hadn’t yet become the “movie star” that he was now. But despite the financial struggles of her Presley flock, Gladys happily welcomed another bird.
It was just a few months ago, before the whole fiasco of Elvis getting drafted and sent off to basic that you’d had a conversation with her in this very kitchen about that.
You told her how appreciative you’d always be toward her for being so welcoming to you, and she told you with an arm around your shoulder, “I’m a mother Hon, it’s only natural. The two of you were babies when ya had that itty bitty boy of yours, I couldn’t ever leave y’all out in the rain, you know that”
You knew no matter what Elvis would have stuck beside you, you knew he’d always be there to hold your hand. After all, you were mothering his child. But it helped so much more that his mother would be on the other side of you, holding your other hand to help you in whatever way you would allow.
Things were slowly returning to normal within the home, her lack of presence isn’t as pronounced, but that’s because she lives through memory now as more time passes, it’s almost like she’s not gone.
You hope that’s how Elvis viewed it. His stone face didn’t leave any slack for a crack or two, and for once it was getting hard to read him. But you’d continue to hope that it isn’t a facade and that he is okay. Yeah, you’d hope with all your might that your man was doing okay.
-----
Dinner was quiet, whenever your voice, or Elvis’ voice, or Francis’ voice didn’t fill the air, love would keep you all company. Of course as always Elvis got on Francis about playing with his food, having grown up poor Elvis was more sensitive to matters of waste such as that.
But if that was the stress high-point of the evening, then you could call it a good evening.
And as you now sat on the edge of the bed, a hand on Francis’ blanket-covered knee while Elvis kneeled on the floor next to the short, small children’s bed, you had a soft smile play on your lips as Elvis talked on the subject of him leaving in a few weeks.
Elvis and you had been explaining night after night to Francis what would soon happen, why his daddy would be going away for a while and what would happen after. After talking about it quite a bit within the first month of knowing about Elvis’ draft you and he decided it was best to be very open on the subject to make it less daunting when Elvis suddenly left home.
And after Gladys’ death you had to explain to Francis that his daddy’s absence would be different from his grandmother’s absence.
“Ya g-gonna fight bad guys Daddy?”
Elvis smiled and brought his hands up in fists, then with a few shadow-box moves which made Francis laugh, Elvis assured,
“You betcha, gonna give the bad guys one of these! And one of these!”
The little boy laughed, his laugh too big for his body as he bent over on the bed and held onto your arm with both his little hands.
After his precious giggles subsided, Francis sat up and asked curiously, a glimmer of what must’ve been a child’s worry in his eyes as he asked with that stutter that his daddy used to have,
“W-what if the bad, bad guys hurt yo-you Dad-Daddy?”
Your smile fell slightly as you and Elvis made eye contact at the suggestion. Of course that is something that you and Elvis had been careful approaching when it came to explaining this sort of thing to Francis.
You couldn’t explain it without truly worrying the boy, you felt tears prickle your eyes at just the thought. Elvis knew of your worries, he knew that quite a few of the girls you were friends with down at the beauty parlor had husband’s overseas, and that a few of them had gotten the dreaded telegram, along with a folded American flag.
He knew all too well your worries as he’d spent many nights being the one to soothe you back to bed. When he’d feign sleep even though he knew you’d spend mornings staring at him, just wanting to look at him as if you would soon lose this view.
Of course if he had died at war it might be different. Having been in a few films and sung a few hit records, he feared that if he died you might find out about his death through the newspapers. You would either find out through that, or as Elvis heard, on rare special occasions they’d send something much more personal, they’d send chaplains and military officers to tell the grieving widow in person.
Elvis hoped if he died he’d be that special occasion, that way you wouldn’t be alone when you heard about his death, the same way you were alone when you saw his mother in her state of death.
“Well,”
He started before getting up, and sitting next to you on the bed. He wrapped an arm around your waist and reached a hand out to rest atop yours which rested on Francis’ knee.
“Listen buddy, that sort of thing might happen, but ya don’t gotta worry. Your daddy’s strong, and he’s gonna get home to you and Mama. He promises.”
Your lip quivered as you tried to smile. Elvis could feel the way your hand tensed under his, he quickly pressed a kiss to your cheek and mumbled quietly for his little family to hear,
“And ya know I’m not a liar, I wouldn’t piss on ya leg and tell ya it’s rainin’ now would I?”
You abruptly turned your head toward Elvis’ crude analogy and hit his shoulder lightly making him laugh as Francis giggled at his daddy using a “nasty” word.
As Elvis laughed he stood up and pulled you with him, leaving enough time for you to kiss Francis goodnight before taking you with just a tug of his arm around your hip.
As you reached for the lamp next to your son’s bed your spoke softly,
“Get a good sleep Frannie”
Once you and Elvis were making your way out of the room he teased you softly with his hand still resting at your hip, “Wish ya would stop callin’ him such a girly name, his name’s Francis”
As soon as you closed the door you laughed softly and pointed out, “So he’s Francis when I call him Frannie but he’s not Francis when you call him Frankie?”
Elvis shrugged and popped out a “yup” as he guided you down the hall. Just before reaching the bedroom you told him you remembered you still had some dishes to do and made a B-line to the staircase to head toward the kitchen.
After getting down there and getting the dishes loaded you found yourself standing in front of the sink, staring down at the soapy dishwater with not a thought in mind.
It was Elvis’ voice that pulled you from your trance as he spoke, “Baby?”
You jumped slightly and turned around to see Elvis throwing you a confused half-smile, his red shirt from earlier was off and he was left in just black trousers and his wedding ring. There was a dampened towel on his shoulders, the tips of his hair were slightly wet, likely from having just washed his face.
You sighed softly with a smile at the sight, “I’ll be up in a minute Handsome, just getting some things done”.
Elvis’ neck stretched slightly as he saw the dishes were washed and now laid on the drying rack, he then turned toward the stove to see that the leftovers were put away. You didn’t have anything to do.
He took a few steps forward, till he could comfortably rest his hands at your hips.
“Looks to me like everythin’s been done, why don’tcha head upstairs with me?”
You took a moment to look around and realized he was right, quick on your feet you slid away from his hands and walked over to the oven and opened it, you gestured a hand toward the inside,
“I haven’t cleaned the oven out yet”
Elvis’ eyebrows furrowed as he shook head and mumbled with a hand on his hip,
“Honey, ya never clean the oven out till the 1st of the month, I mean unless things have changed that much since I’ve been at basic…”
You sighed softly. As you gently closed the oven door Elvis walked over to you with a small frown, his hands finding their place at your hips once again as he asked,
“What’s goin’ on Genevieve?”
You bit your lower lip softly, whenever Elvis called you by your name you knew he was serious, there was no wiggling your way out of it, especially now that he had you pressed back against a kitchen counter, his hands gripping your hips with resolution and a look in his eyes that told you he wasn’t letting you go without a fight.
With a shake of your head you looked away from Elvis, suddenly deeming the drying rack a few feet away to be a better view than your half-naked husband. Elvis’ head followed your gaze and suddenly it was him you were looking at again.
“I just, I wish you would stop doing that…”
Elvis looked confused as he ran a hand through his uncombed hair. He really looked different from a few months ago, his jaw was sharp and his cheeks sort of caved in, but not in the way a waif’s would. His hair was a crisp, fall-ish brown, and his body was cut in a way that felt a little foreign.
While he was naturally slim and tall, he was usually still soft and smooth around the edges. You’d realized his first night back from basic that his body was more sharp and angular, and you worried they weren’t feeding him properly. But as he’d been home a week or two now, his body remained sharp and cut, and now your worries were on your own lacking areas, you knew your food couldn’t replace his mama’s but you’d swear if his mama were here, he’d be back to his soft and squishy self.
“Stop doin’ what Hon?”
As your eyes lingered over his body more you’d completely forgotten what you’d first been talking about as you changed the subject by asking, “Are you still hungry?”
Elvis laughed softly and titled his head to the side, “What are ya talkin’ about?”
Your lower lip quivered in worry and concern, it seems all the dulled emotions you’d been feeling lately came together to overpower your own emotional maturity as your lip wobbled pathetically. As Elvis saw the sight his smile fell and his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he bent down slightly to look you head on. “Oh, Baby, now,” He cupped your cheeks with his hands to keep you from turning away from him.
There was a soft incredulous laugh that left his lips, “Why are ya cryin?”
As Elvis pulled you close to him, you could feel his body shake with each laugh that left his lips, you knew what he was thinking, it was what he always thought (and sometimes said) whenever you started crying, it was-
“You women and your emotions…”
And just as you would everytime, you’d hit his chest with all your might (which would only evoke another laugh at your pitiful effort) and mumble into his chest wetly, “Stop laughing at me Elvis Aaron Presley.”
“Alright, alright, I won’t laugh anymore Mama, now what was it you wish I would stop doin?”
Your arms around his waist tightened slightly as you thought back to the original topic of discussion. Elvis gave you a moment as he rubbed his chin along the top of your head, ruffling your hair in doing so, but you didn’t care enough to mind.
“I just wish you would stop pretending you’re this indestructible force Elvis.”
You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke,
“Well, I gotta make sure my son knows there ain’t a man better than his Daddy, ya know that Hon”
With a soft sigh you pulled back enough to look Elvis in the eye while your arms remained around his waist.
“I’m talking about with me, Elvis. You do that same thing with me that you do with Francis. You talk to me like I’m a child- Like, like I don’t know what you’re going into, like I haven’t been reading the papers”
Elvis’ smile flatlined as he listened to your words. You continued on.
“I’m your wife Elvis, I know that you’re not some indestructible being.”
As Elvis' eyes lingered away from yours, you placed a hand on his cheek to regain his attention as you could tell he was searching for ways to change the conversation.
“You’re just a man Elvis”
There’s his way out. Elvis bit his lower lip before breaking into a smile as he stared down at you. His hands that were wrapped around your waist fell down to each globe of your ass, giving you a soft squeeze through the fabric of your dress. The abruptness of the action caught your attention as your eyebrow lifted in suspicion and confusion at what he was doing.
Here you were pouring your heart out and he-
“Well, I can admit I am just a man, and a man’s got needs ya know?”
He had a boyish smile on his lips as he said the last part quietly, as if he were a child trying to tempt his mother into letting him get his favorite piece of candy. You knew how this would go, it would go as it always did. You and Elvis would avoid this topic and go on to avoid a few other topics, then in a few weeks or a month you and him would get into a huge argument of all the topics combined just to kiss and make up.
It’s happened often within your relationship, hell, you and him hadn’t fought the entirety of your pregnancy with Francis and on the day your water broke, all hell broke with it as you and Elvis got into a huge argument. You almost gave birth in the house because you refused to have him be the one to drive you to the hospital.
But that would be fine for now, especially when he smiled down at you the way he was now.
Your previous pure look of concern had washed away with a defeated smile as his hands continued to knead the flesh of your ass like dough and his smile only dug into his cheeks further, almost bringing back that full look of them.
With a fond tinge to it, you sighed out,
“You really are just a man”
He brought his nose down to nuzzle against your cheek before pressing his lips against the soft skin, murmuring, “Your man”
“Mhm, my man”
You began to giggle at the ticklish sensation of his lips dragging from your cheek down along the sensitive skin of your neck. You tried tucking your chin into your neck as you continued to let you squealed laughs.
Elvis let out a soft playful growl as he spoke into the skin,
“Flutterin’ around like a bird”
To stop your incessant wiggling Elvis tightened his arms around your waist, his nose changed locations from the crook of your neck to the dip of your collarbone till it landed in the deep neckline of your dress, snug between your breasts as he nuzzled himself into the skin, trying to get a whiff of you in your purest form.
The smell of you at the end of the day, the light scent of your perfume that somehow lingered late in the day mixed with whatever sweat had tried to grace your body, it was a smell he couldn’t get enough of.
His lips began to press gentle little kisses at the inside of both your breasts as he tugged at the neckline a bit more, trying to give himself more ground to cover with his lips. You laughed softly and buried your hands in his brown locks as you pressed numerous kisses atop his head.
You could hear him mumble where his head was buried between your breasts,
“Mm kiss me Baby…”
You laughed softly and between pecks on his forehead said, “That’s what I’m doin’”
He finally came up, his eyes lidded slightly as he murmured, “I mean really kiss me”, before kissing you with the same lips he just worshiped the skin of your tits with.
You hummed into the kiss with delighted surprise at the hungry tenderness of it all as Elvis’ body backed you completely against the kitchen counter. He felt around blindly for the counter behind you as he refused to break the kiss and then with two gentle pats to the back of your thighs you jumped up just slightly for him to pick you up by the thighs and push you onto the counter.
Elvis’ hands quickly worked the fabric of your dress, tugging it up till it pooled around your waist and as he pulled away from the kiss to look down between the two of you he was left with the sight of your legs, almost completely bare except for your seamed stockings that ended at your thighs and were held up by the garters connected to your panties.
His hands glided along the thin fabric of your stockings along your calves and thighs, he loved how they felt. You couldn’t help your smile as he admired you. When he stepped back he could pull one of your legs up nice and high so that he could see the seams on the back of your stockings that ran up your legs, giving the illusion that you had much longer legs than you really did.
All his focus was on that leg that he had stretched above your head, pointed to the heavens as he stared with admiration. You, his own point of interest, had betrayed him as your other lonely leg that dangled from the counter stretched forward to dig lightly at the bulge beginning to form in Elvis’ black trousers. Elvis’ brows creased and his eyes closed as his mouth opened to let out a low, heavy breath.
“Oh, Mama…”
Elvis’ grip that held your foot high had loosened at the undoing of his usually calm and collective nature within the act. “Mhm?” You took the opportunity and brought your other foot down to join in on the pushes and presses of your feet into the growing bulge.
He only repeated with a breathy, more defeated voice,
“Oh… Mama…”
His head fell back slightly and his legs looked to be going a little slack, knees bending in the slightest as his hips pushed into the pressure of your feet.
It was only when you attempted to dig your foot’s heel into Elvis’ groin did he make a move, spreading your legs apart and pushing his way between them with an eagerness. His hands were quick as he unclipped your garters, followed by the rough yanking of your stockings off your legs. You were thankful you had stabilized yourself onto the counter with your hands otherwise he might’ve yanked you off it right along with your stockings.
You figured you’d help him as you lifted your ass up and began to shimmy your panties off, having to bite your lip to keep back from whining at the cold slap of the counter against your thighs and warmed heat. As Elvis turned to look at you, his mouth was left slightly agape, he could never get used to the image of his wife being all pliant and pretty for him.
The men he used to work with as a young truck driver told him to never get married to a girl he liked, because when women became wives they lost their appeal, they became prudent and too good for casual sex with their husband. Oh how wrong those men were.
“Spread ‘em f’me Hon”
You obeyed as you watched Elvis kneel down, he had enough height on him to where even kneeling down he could easily be face to face with your bare cunt as you sat on the edge of the counter.
From below he made eye contact with you again and murmured,
“Spread those as well Baby”
You let out a breath at his words, feeling a heat spread from your chest up your neck from the embarrassment of where he was referring, but you’d listen. Your hand hesitantly danced down your body before landing at your cunt, and with a soft, wet sound, your pointer and index finger spread the lips of your pussy apart, giving way for Elvis to see the white discharge that was just edging out of your entrance, you had practically sprung a leak down there.
“You’re so pretty Baby…”
He looked up at you to make sure you knew it before steadying himself by gripping the sides of your thighs before pressing his head further between your legs. His aquiline nose ran along your core before anything else, but his tongue and lips were quick to follow as he licked a stripe up the center.
You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling and tilted your head back to stare at the ceiling, the blank ceiling, boring enough for you to be able to focus entirely on the sensations Elvis was filling your body with.
As his tongue poked and prodded at your entrance you let out a cacophony of back-to-back breaths. As he moved his lips lower, his tongue now scraping along that gap of skin between both your holes, his nose was enveloped entirely by your entrance, and you could feel it inside of you.
Then his fingers on one hand reached toward that little nub of nerves that rested atop your pussy like a pretty bow, and like an expert he could easily undo that bow with the twists and turns of his index and middle finger.
That is what made you squirm and squeak, hushing out a high-pitched,
“Elvis..!”
His answer was a hungry hum which only pushed you even further as the low baritone of his hum reverberated in your pussy. “E-Elvis..!”
Your hands burrowed greedily into his hair as you contradicted yourself, while you made it seem like you wanted him off you, you only pushed his nose further and further into your entrance, you might suffocate him at this point. It was as if his life was in the hands of whether or not he could make you come.
You attempted to drive your hips further into his mouth as he pulled you closer with that hand still gripping your thigh.
As his fingers strummed your clit like the strings to a guitar your breathing got uneven as you felt the incoming of those waves of pleasure that only your very own husband could pull from you.
He groaned loudly into your heat as your grip on his hair became painful to the man bearing it, but he’d continue on till he got you to your release.
“Oh fuck Elvis..! I’m, I’m…”
Your hands entangled in his hair began to drive his head completely home as you let out a guttural moan, the pleased pitch cutting off as you’d reached the peak of your pleasure.
Your entire body felt limp, not even having enough strength in your hands to continue holding onto his hair. Elvis’ head remained tucked away long enough for your dress to fall over onto his head and hide him away as he finally pulled away for air.
You watched with tired eyes as his hands came up to pull the fabric off his head, he had the biggest lazy smile gracing his lips as he looked up at you, and for a moment you had a hard time deciphering whether or not the dampness on his face came from his sweat or your own pleasure, you settled on it being a mix.
“I make ya feel good Honey? Played with Mama just right, hm?”
He slowly stood up and brought the fabric of the dress up with him.
“You always do Elvis,”
He hummed with a smile and brought the wrung up fabric to your mouth with one hand and tugged your chin down with the other, leaving room for him to set the fabric between your lips for you to bite down on.
“Good, now, you’re gonna help Daddy feel good too now right? Gonna sit still f’me right?”
You hummed, “Mhm”, feeling eager to please the man after the trip he just sent you on. Elvis smiled down at you as he watched you hold the fabric between your teeth.
The fumbling of Elvis’ hands undoing his trousers was momentary as he’d become a bit of an expert at undoing his pants in the years you two have been married. You watched with blown out eyes as his dick shot up against his pubes and stomach as it was freed from the confines of Elvis’ pants and underwear.
Your legs were already spread and ready, your hole was already warmed up and loosened, you were his for the taking.
As Elvis took a step forward he tugged you just slightly closer to him before lining his uncut cock along your hole. Then he pushed in. His eyebrows creased from the pain of needing to be patient at this part, trying to find a good balance of needing to be watchful of your expression while wanting to watch as his foreskin begins to prematurely slide back before he’s even completely inside of your warm pussy.
“It’s goin’ in smooth Honey? N-no burn or anythin’ right Baby? I can keep goin’?”
You hummed out a quick, “Mhm”, with an eager nod of your head, and you could see the relief spread along his face at not needing to wait, because to be quite truthful he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.
Elvis kept a hand on his base as he guided the rest in and when he was fully in, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, practically pulling you off the counter as he wanted to be as close to you as possible while he pressed kisses along your neck.
“Fuck Baby, feel so good,” He groaned softly as he pulled out slightly just to shove his way back in, eliciting a used squeak from you as he did so. “Think that I still haven’t broken ya in properly after bein’ at basic f’so long huh?”
You could only moan softly at his words as you kept the fabric of your dress clenched between your teeth. As he repeated a similar motion he mumbled into the skin of your neck,
“It’s alright Honey, we’ll make more room in there, make more room for a little one or two…”
You wiggled slightly only for his body to press impossibly closer as he spoke through gritted teeth, “Just need ya to sit” he pulled out just to harshly press back in, evoking a whimper from you, “still.”
Elvis’ thrusts became fuller and more drawn out with every second that passed and every moan that left your lips. He was a chatty lover, and while he liked to believe he was talking you through it all, it was really himself he was talking through the motions of sex. He had a strange anxiety when it came to sex that had only shown itself since his takeoff in the entertainment business.
“Gonna fill ya so full of me, gonna leave a piece of myself here to watch over ya Honey,”
Your noises continued to be muffled by the fabric that was becoming soaked in saliva from being kept in your mouth for so long.
The build-up of precum that had been filling your insides made for a wonderful lubricant, even better than your body’s natural one. Elvis’ hips continued to thrust roughly into you. As the speed doubled, even tripled, Elvis’ breaths and voice got raspy.
You were certain he’d bruised your cervix by now, but the desperate rasp of his voice left you as gooey as your insides were.
“Shit, this is it..!”
Elvis buried face into your neck and you felt the heat of his breath sprawl across your skin as he groaned throatily. The animalistic, rhythmic pace of his hips dying down to slow downward grinds. He slurred out as he came down from that peak of pleasure,
“So good… So fucking good…”
Finally as his body came to a rest you spit out the fabric and inhaled as much air as possible through your mouth.
As Elvis geared himself to pull out, your arms wrapped around his neck abruptly as you held him close, mumbling a soft, “Don’t.” as you did so.
Elvis’ body felt stiff for a moment as he asked with hushed concern,
“W-why? Did I hurt ya Hon? You know you’re supposed to tell-”
You stopped his sentence short with a quiet,
“No, you didn’t hurt me. Just, wanna be with you a little longer. You don’t mind do ya?”
Elvis let out a breath of relief to hear that. He’d never want to hurt you. So in that moment of silence he held you close and buried his face into the crook of your neck, letting his nose linger on that pulse point that he watched you apply perfume on every morning for the past 4 years.
And you carded your fingers through his hair, kissing the skin of his head as a form of apology for how rough you were with it earlier.
His voice was like honey, sweet and thick as he assured,
“Of course not. I wanna be with you all the time, otherwise I wouldn't have married ya”
You smiled and remarked into his hair,
"Smartass..."
To which he fondly mumbled,
"Cutie"
This was more a passion piece, just because I really wanted to write something involving those pictures, seriously he's such a dad.
The masterlist will be posted and linked as soon as I get up from my nap! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!!
Taglist Lovelies: @suraemoon, @drtyelvisfantasy, @mydarlingelvis, @astral-eyed-cat, @lialocklear, @obsessedvibee, @sexystarfish, @everythingelvispresley, @thebardotreincarnate, @prettyprissyblvd
#A Soldier's Song#elvis fanfiction#elvis presley x reader#elvis presley fic#elvis x you#elvis presley fanfic#elvis presley#elvis presley x you#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis fanfic#elvis x reader#elvis x oc#elvis presley x oc#elvis smut#elvis presley smut#elvis presley imagine#army elvis#50s elvis#elvis presley fandom#elvis aaron presley#elvis#elvis fandom#elvis fic#elvis fluff#elvis angst#elvis presley fluff#elvispresley#elvis the king#elvis presley x y/n#elvis x y/n
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𝑇𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑇𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠
Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader
Word count: 8,9K
Summary: Visiting your sister and her boyfriend in Hawaii, you find yourself falling harder and deeper for your brother-in-law. And it seems like Elvis can't resist you either...
Warnings: club singer!elvis, mentions of/infidelity, arguing, lil bit of angst, strong language, alcohol consumption, reader pining over Elvis, reader being in love with her sister's boyfriend, mention of reader being slim, smut; unprotected sex, penetration, oral (f. receiving), size kink-ish.
A/N: This used to be a piece of writing called "Little Sister" I wrote a long time ago on my old account, but I changed a few things (mostly in the smutty part) and wanted to share it again. Was inspired by a very nsfw gif I saw (seriously, don't look at the gif that's linked if there's people around you) and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so here we are. ;) There's more to it than the summary entails, and beware of the shitty written ending because y'all know I hate writing endings.
Masterlist
Your heart was racing as you were dragging your suitcase along through the airport of Honolulu.
Finally your parents had allowed you to visit your older sister who lived and worked in Hawaii during your four weeks of summer holidays and you were beyond excited.
Excited to leave the stress of deadlines and annoying frat boys behind and settle in a new environment for a few weeks.
The fact that you would be seeing Elvis Presley, your brother in law, again certainly had nothing to do with the excitement you felt tingling in your stomach. At least, that’s what you told yourself and the longer you’d deny your feelings toward him, the more you’d start to believe your own lies.
That was until you were face to face with him again─it was much easier to hide your feelings toward him from a different state.
And the fact that you and him kissed a year ago didn’t really help your nerves to see him again either.
It happened while you were both drunk and neither of you had spoken a word about it, but it did happen and after the hangover from hell you fought off that next morning, it was all you could think about.
Luckily for you, your sister and her boyfriend moved to Hawaii not even a week later and maybe if they wouldn’t have, you would’ve never kissed him. It’s not like you thought you’d never see him again, but you just figured that your sister was too busy with her new job as a tour guide and wouldn’t invite you and your parents over until Christmas time. Seemed like Tracy missed you more than you expected, as she had basically begged you to come live with her for those few weeks of your summer break─she even managed to convince your parents to come alone.
Despite you being 20, they were still overprotective over you. Your sister was only three years older, but she had always been a bit more of a rebel, not caring that your parents weren’t too happy with her moving all the way to Hawaii with a man she had only been dating for a few weeks at that time. Apparently things between Elvis and her were still well, seeing they had passed their one year anniversary a few weeks ago.
“Welcome to Hawaii, little one,” Elvis greeted you with a wide smile on his face as you stepped out of the airport, trying to ignore the heat surrounding you as if you just stepped into a sauna.
Your heart did about ten somersaults against your ribcage and you were pretty sure your cheeks were flushed. If Elvis noticed your state of slight shock, he didn’t comment on it and instead, placed a colorful lei around your neck before he took your suitcase from you.
“Where’s Tracy? I thought she was picking me up,” you questioned curiously as you watched him open the trunk of his car to put your luggage in it. Your sister failed to tell you that her boyfriend was picking you up and to any normal person, that would’ve been fine, but you just had to fall for a guy that was already taken.
By your own sister, for crying out loud.
You had no idea how long the drive from the airport to your sisters’ apartment would be, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t survive even five minutes alone in a car with him.
The raven haired man shut the trunk and leaned his hands on it, feigning a shocked facial expression. “I thought you liked spending time with your brother,” he grinned, making sure you knew he was playing with you but it still made heat crawl up your neck and face.
You hated when he called himself your brother─the fantasies about him that plagued your mind at night certainly weren’t meant for a brother.
“She had to run some errands to get everything ready for you,” he then said, smiling at you as he opened the door of the passengers’ seat, looking at you. You inhaled some air, though it did nothing to loosen up the tightness you felt in your chest.
If the heat of the island wasn’t going to take you out, those stupid blue eyes of his definitely were.
“Alright,” you mumbled softly, flashing him a quick smile as you got in the car, making sure not to let the smell of his cologne make your mind go places it definitely shouldn’t be going.
“How is your work going? Do you like Hawaii?” you asked as he drove away from the airport and onto the high way.
You were nervous, but you were trying your best not to let it show and make him suspicious. You didn’t want him to think you accepted Tracy’s offer to come just for him, because even though that was one of the (main) reasons, you’d rather throw yourself out of the car than to have him know that.
He looked at you for a second with a little grin on his face before he turned back to the road, his arm casually leaning on the open window frame, fingertips tapping on the wheel.
“Hawaii is amazing, can’t even imagine myself going back anymore,” he laughed softly, which made you smile softly as you looked at the view ahead of you.
You’d missed the sound of his laugh.
You could understand why he didn’t wanted to go back. You had only seen the airport and some of the scenery from the high way, but it already felt like a place that was soothing for the soul. Beautiful weather, beautiful people and gorgeous nature all around─you couldn’t wait to see more of it.
“I’m sure you will love it just as much as we do,” he says and while you just smiled and nodded, but on the inside you were screaming.
We.
Elvis and Tracy─God, you could just bust your head through the window right there and then when the word rolled off of his tongue so casually.
So naturally.
You wanted to be part of that ‘we’, of that ‘us’.
Y/N and Elvis.
Elvis and Y/N.
You wanted it so bad.
“And work… is work,” he then adds, snapping you out of your thoughts, which honestly you were grateful for. You had to get rid off those feelings you carried toward him, but he was making it so damn hard.
Why did he have to look so good with that sunkissed skin, blue eyes and dark hair?
Before you were going to start to curse God for creating Elvis Presley, you snapped yourself out of it.
“You’re a singer in one of Honolulu’s most famous clubs, there’s gotta be more to it!” you laughed, slapping his arm playfully.
As he looked at you with a grin on his face and a hint of playfulness in his eyes, you immediately regretted what you had done.
He grabbed onto your knee and squeezed it, all-in good humor, but you felt as if electricity was shooting down your spine.
“Someone did her homework,” he laughed, lingering his fingertips on your knee for longer than necessary. Bare knee, might you add, seeing you were wearing shorts.
Oh, please Y/N.. control yourself.
“I was playin’. It’s fun, it’s real fun and it pays well. I’m definitely taking you there one of these days,” he smiles as he pulled his hand back nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just almost made you moan out loud over a small touch.
You looked at his side profile, the thought of him taking you out to a club out of all places, got you making up all kinds of scenario’s in your mind.
You cleared your throat a little, tugging some hair behind your ear as casually as you could.
“Y-Yeah, that sounds fun. If Tracy hasn’t planned out all of my days here,” you said, half joking, half serious.
With her being a tour guide, you were sure she had made an entire itinerary for you. You hoped not─wanting to just go with the flow with and without her, enjoying yourself rather than feeling like you had to follow a schedule.
“She usually doesn’t come to the club because she has early shifts,” he told you, wiggling his eyebrows playfully at you before he looked back at the road and you chuckled softly, turning back to the gorgeous view to keep your thoughts about the gorgeous man next to you from going to very unholy places. “It’d be nice to have a familiar face cheering me on,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a little as he once again squeezed your knee.
He kept his hand there longer than before, making your skin feel like it was set on fire underneath his palm.
Once again, you just nodded and smiled.
When you finally stepped inside your sister and Elvis’, unfortunately, shared apartment you felt like you could breathe like a sane person again. Tracy ran out of the kitchen and into the living area Elvis took you in, engulfing you into a tight and warm embrace before you could even get out one word.
“My baby! I can’t believe you’re here!” she exclaimed in excitement and you laughed, hugging her back just as tight.
“You’re only three years older, shut up,” you rolled your eyes playfully as you pulled back from the embrace and she grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks softly.
“Ssssh, you’re still my little baby,” she shushed you, laughing when you swatted her hands away as she took you to the kitchen, handing you a drink. When she showed you the stocked up fridge and guest bedroom she cleaned spotless especially for you, you couldn’t help but feel guilt settle in your stomach.
You mind wandered back to a year ago when you and Elvis kissed at that stupid party, not even ten minutes after Tracy left it, and part of you just wanted to blurt it out and come clean. You had always been close to your sister and you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you would become between her and her boyfriend.
A week in Hawaii went by and Tracy nor Elvis had spend any time with you. You had dinner with both of them the day you arrived, but after that you were pretty much on your own─you didn’t mind that much, seeing you loved exploring on your own just as much.
But whenever Tracy and Elvis were home at the same time, you felt some kind of weird tension between them.
You weren’t an absolute idiot and could see when your sister was hiding something from you.
As Sunday evening rolled around, your peaceful sunny vacation was interrupted by a hurricane.
And it went by the name of Elvis.
“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Trace! I literally saw you yesterday,” you heard Elvis yell from the living room and you froze in your spot, watching the sunset on the windowsill seat in the guest bedroom.
“You always say you’re working, working, working,” he continued and you quickly tiptoed to the record player that was playing softly on top of the dresser, interrupting Aretha Franklin mid song. You walked over to the door and pressed your ear against it, holding your breath as you shamelessly eavesdropped on your sister and her boyfriend arguing.
“I didn’t know sticking your tongue down the throat of some wall street jerk was on the list of a tour guide’s job descriptions,” he spat at her and you heard her gasp, followed by a scoff and even though you couldn’t see her, you were absolutely sure she was crossing her arms like a child right now.
She kept her mouth shut though, and Elvis continued his little rant.
“I forgave you the first time, because it was only a week after we came to Hawaii. A week, Tracy! But you’re just never gonna change, are ya?”
You could hear his voice cracking at the end, desperation lingering on the back of his tongue and you felt your stomach tightening at his words, feeling bad for him.
Your sister was a free spirit, a soul that wasn’t meant to be bound down by one person─before Elvis, she dated someone new every month, sometimes every weekend, sometimes even multiple people at the same time.
Apparently, things between her and Elvis weren’t going so well as you had thought.
“You just like the attention too much and you’ll do anything to get it, no matter who you fuckin’ hurt in the process,” he sighed deeply and still Tracy didn’t say a word. He seemed to take her silence for an answer because you heard footsteps striding down the hall and their bedroom door slamming shut. A few minutes later, you heard the same door opening again and Elvis’s annoyed voice telling Tracy he was leaving.
As he passed by the guest bedroom, you ran over to the bed and jumped down onto it, grasping one of your magazines from the bedside table to pretend you were reading it.
You’d kinda been expecting the knock but it still made your heart thump wildly in your ears. You tried to sound as casually as you could when you granted Elvis access to the room, hoping he didn’t hear the slight tremble in your voice.
“Hey, little one,” he sighed softly, walking over to the bed as you turned around and slowly sat up. You gave him a weak smile which he returned, sitting down on the edge of your bed.
“Sorry that happened. Are you okay?” you asked in a whisper, feeling a little uneasy about the fact that he was in your room alone while Tracy was in the living room.
He didn’t share the same uneasiness though, dropping the bag he had in his hand next to his feet as he ran his hands down his face.
“I will be,” he mumbled, leaning his elbows on his knees as he kept his face cupped in his hands. “Guess I’ve just been.. blind. Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve caught her kissing some rich stuck up dude and now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I doubt that first week in Hawaii was the first time she did somethin’ like this,” he sighed deeply, shaking his head in his hands a little.
You just sat there for a few seconds, but you couldn’t bare to see him like this.
Mad at your sister and feeling bad for Elvis, you moved to sit next to him and wrapped your arm around his shoulder, ignoring how good he smelled and how his body heat felt so incredibly comforting.
“Why.. did you stay with her when you knew?” you asked carefully, trying not to step on anyone’s toes here.
Rather than getting angry at you for being curious, after all he was the one who came into your room, he just shrugged and groaned deeply, letting himself fall back on your bed after you moved your arm to place a hand on his forearm.
“I don’t know,” he looked up at the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. “I’m… I was in love,”
You swallowed thickly at his words, looking at the door that was wide open. You could hear Tracy moving around the living room and you quickly shot up from the bed as you heard the sound of her heels clicking down the hall way, giving her your most innocent smile as she appeared in the door opening.
You busied yourself with your record player that you’d placed atop of the dresser.
Rather than looking sad or distraught about the fight she had with her boyfriend, she looked angry.
Angry that she got caught, you thought bitterly to yourself.
She ignored Elvis’ presence and looked at you, smiling softly. “I’ll be staying at a friends’ house tonight, so he doesn’t have to leave. See you tomorrow, chick.”
Blowing you a hand kiss, she turned around and grabbed her purse, leaving the apartment and making sure she slammed the door extra loud for theatrics.
You sighed deeply as you rubbed your temples a little─even though it seemed Tracy brought this upon herself, you didn’t like to see your sister in the state she was in. You were sure the fight between her and Elvis hurt her, at least a little bit, and she wasn’t really helping the situation by going out to spend the night with God knows who. Or maybe you just didn’t know your sister as well as you thought.
You also weren’t happy with the fact that she left you alone with Elvis, even though that little voice in your head was telling you to take your chance now, heart jumping for joy. You wanted to jump his bones more than anything, but the rational part of your brain stopped you, reminding you that that would even be more terrible than what Tracy had been doing behind her boyfriends’ back.
“Maybe you two just need a night apart so you can talk things out. I’m sure everything will be fine tomorrow,” you told him, trying to sound hopeful, as you sat down on the edge of your bed.
You hated saying those words.
You didn’t want things to work out between them. And you were secretly hoping, no.. praying, that Tracy was on her way to one of her boy toys right now to fuck his brains out and forget all about Elvis.
The blue eyed man on your bed let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he put his arms under his head.
“Nah uh, I’m done talkin’. I’m not some random guy she can come home to after she’s done with her little play boys,” he scrunched up his nose at his choice of words, sighing deeply.
You stayed silent for a little bit, crawling up further on the bed so you were sitting next to his head now, looking down at him.
“To be fair,” you started, pulling your legs up to wrap your arms around them. “You kinda cheated on her too,” you blurted out, not knowing where you got the courage from to make out such a bold statement.
It was the truth, though.
He kissed you while he was dating Tracy─the fact that he was drunk while doing so and they hadn’t been together for very long wasn’t an excuse.
His eyes shot open, looking up at you as you looked down at him. A soft smile spread across his face as he noticed your eyes shifting down to his lips and you quickly looked away, which made him sit up immediately.
“I told her about that night,” he said casually and you widened your eyes, your jaw almost dropping to the damn floor.
“You WHAT?!” you exclaimed in shock and he bit his tongue to try not to laugh at the shocked face expression you were wearing.
“It slipped out, alright? I just made up some lame excuse and told her I thought you were her because I was so damn drunk and she believed it,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and you gasped softly, getting up from the bed.
Rushing your hands through your hair, you paced back and forth in front of him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.
You shook your head, placing your hands on your hips as you came to a stop in front of him.
“You can say whatever you want, but I don’t regret that kiss, Y/N. She was still messin’ around with other guys at that time and I’m a jealous motherfucker,” he smirked as he leaned his hands on the bed behind him and you tried not to look down at his thighs as he manspread so shamelessly and so confidently.
“So, what? You only kissed me because you wanted revenge on my sister? Make her jealous?” you scoffed, crossing your arms tightly in front of your chest. Elvis couldn’t help but chuckle as he thought about how similar yet different you and Tracy were. “I mean, not that I care, because it didn’t mean anything.” you quickly added, looking away from him.
He raised an eyebrow and sat up a little again, reaching his hands out to place them on your hips, pulling you closer to him.
You had to bite your tongue to hold back a squeak, your body feeling like it was set aflame when you were standing in between his long legs, your knees hitting the bed.
“Now I know that’s not true, little one,” he whispered, looking up at you with that damned smirk, hands slowly moving down the fabric of the sleeping shorts you were wearing. “I think you care more than you like to admit,” he hummed and as you felt his fingertips coming into contact with your bare skin, you found the strength in yourself to swat his hands away and take a step back, inhaling a deep breath of air.
“You’re wrong, Elvis. We kissed because we were drunk and that’s it.”
“No,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves as he was up and in front of you, looking down at you with a small smirk on his face.
No matter how many steps you took backwards, you couldn’t escape him─your hands flew to the edge of the dresser that met your lower back and dug your nails into the wood nervously, ignoring how your heart beat was thumping in your ears.
“We kissed because there was somethin’ there. I felt it and I know you did too,” he stated boldly and you clenched your jaw so hard you wouldn’t be surprised it would dislocate.
All your senses were on high alert when his eyes were drawn to your lips, leaning in closer to you.
You knew his words were true.
There was something, a pull that always drew you closer to him and him to you.
The day Tracy brought him back to the house for dinner with your parents you were already laughing and joking with him. At first, you thought it was just innocent, as did he. Until feelings started to grow, until that damned kiss.
He knew that he wasn’t any better than Tracy in this moment, but now that he was so close to you that he could smell the scent of your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off of your body, he couldn’t hold back anymore.
A soft gasp left your mouth as he crashed his lips onto yours and he could feel you freeze for a second, until he slid his tongue across your lower lip. You were quick to grant him the access he wanted and deepened the kiss, your arms flying around his neck. He groaned softly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hand pressed against your back to push you up against his chest.
Alarm bells were going off in your head, but the butterflies that had errupted aggressively in your stomach made you ignore them. You were getting lost in his kiss, touch, scent and could barely think straight as he moved his knee between your legs, lifting it up to press against you.
Even though you were wearing your panties and shorts, your body immediately responded to him─getting so lost in his kiss, your hips started moving slowly, arousal growing as you grinded yourself on his knee. His hands moved to your hips, holding you down onto him firmly as he helped your movements along, groaning deeply in your mouth. You gasped softly and pulled from the kiss, eyes slowly fluttering open.
As he looked at you with a soft grin tugging at his lips, blue eyes twinkling with a mixture of arousal and mischievous, you suddenly realised what you were doing, and with who, and quickly placed your hands against his shoulders, pushing him off of you.
“I can’t… W-we can’t do this, Elvis,” you breathed out in shock, rushing a hand through your hair as you pushed yourself to stand straight, not giving him a chance to speak as you ran out of the room.
You slipped into your shoes by the door, grasping your denim jacket before you left the apartment in a hurry─you had absolutely no idea where you were going, but you needed some time alone.
Time away from Elvis and his abilities to only make you fall for him harder than you should’ve in the first place.
Another week had passed and you hadn’t seen Elvis since that night.
He was gone by the time you came back to the apartment and every time he’d come by to pick up his things, you’d hide out on the balcony with some of Tracy’s friends that seemed to be coming over to hang out more and more, or you were out and about, exploring Honolulu.
You still had not told Tracy about what happened and you also hadn’t talked to her about the fact that she did know about you and Elvis kissing back at home. She also did not mention it and you couldn’t help but feel awkward whenever you were alone with her.
You felt like you were walking on egg shells 24/7.
Your sister either didn’t feel it herself or didn’t comment on it and continued as she always did─she didn’t seem as bothered by the break up as she should, filling up any voids with those ‘wall street jerks’ as Elvis had called them.
Rich, preppy guys that came from New York to Hawaii for business, but were too busy with pleasure instead.
Tracy seemed to have a thing for them, but you hated them. When Tracy arranged a date with one of them for you, you were livid at her but you knew she wouldn’t drop it until you’d say yes, so you eventually accepted just so you wouldn’t have to listen to her going on and on about how much of a great guy this one was.
The wall street guy, going by the name of David, took you to a nightclub named The Clouds. The most current famous one on the whole island, thanks to a certain dark haired blue eyed man you were definitely not ready to face any time soon.
None of your excuses worked on David and he barely listened to you, seeming adamant to get inside of the place. The whole time you were standing in line to get in you were praying to every God that was out there, that Elvis wouldn’t be working tonight.
Maybe it was his night off and he was hanging out with his friends somewhere else, or maybe he had a cold and was sick in bed.
As always, the universe didn’t listen to you and you didn’t even gave yourself a chance to look at the pretty and fancy interior of the place, your eyes glued to the man on the stage, drawing everyone’s attention to him.
His hair was perfectly slicked back, the all black suit he was wearing looking so goddamn gorgeous with that flawless sunkissed skin and bedroom eyes that had every lady in the place hanging on the edge of their seat.
You didn’t even stop your date as he slipped his hand into yours and guided you through a small crowd of dancing people, finding you two a table. While he spotted one and tugged you along, all you could do was stare at Elvis and let your knees grow weaker by the second. Tracy was nowhere on your mind and David sure as hell wasn’t either─until the blonde man snapped you out of it by pulling your chair out and releasing your hand. You looked at him with a confused look on your face, reality slowly creeping its way back in.
“He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” He yelled over the music as you both were seated, pointing a casual thumb Elvis’ way on the stage.
You flashed him a quick smile and nodded, thanking the Heavens when a waitress swung by your table to take your order.
You ordered the strongest cocktail on the menu and tried to engage in conversation with the man in front of you, but the fact that the man you actually loved was catching the attention of all those beautiful girls on the dance floor and David only talked about numbers and money didn’t help to make this evening at least somewhat eventful at all.
You were bored out of your mind, so you decided to seek comfort in your trusty new friend for the evening─your fourth martini.
The slight buzz helped you to forget David’s stories as soon as he finished telling them and even though the man could see you weren’t having a good time, he wasn’t going to give up.
His big ego wouldn’t allow himself to have a failed date.
He grabbed your hand from across the table and you looked at him, squinting your eyes as he rubbed the back of your hand sweetly. He was talking to you─you could see his mouth moving, but your tipsy mind couldn’t make out the words he was actually saying. You bursted out in laughter, thinking it was the most hilarious thing ever and when the waitress came by again, you immediately ordered another round, not caring about David’s protest.
Elvis’ performance was done and when you noticed him hopping off of the stage and making his way to the bar, you looked at David and grabbed your clutch from the table, pointing a finger at him – not even knowing the reason for doing so. He reached his hands out to you when you swayed on your feet, ready to catch you.
It looked as if you were going to say something, but then seemed to forget about it and just laughed before you stumbled away from the seat, giggling at your own antics.
“I’ll have my drink at the bar, pretty lady!” you told the waitress who was still standing by your table and she just laughed as you hooked your arm through hers, letting her guide you to the bar, leaving a flabbergasted David behind.
The waitress left you behind at the bar for one of the bartenders to deal with you and you smiled sweetly at the man as he placed the martini you wanted in front of you. You rumbled through your clutch for a little bit, though before you could pay for your drink, you heard the bartender thanking the person who took his place next to you.
You frowned sassily as you looked up and at the person, letting out a scoff, even adding an eye roll for show. “I can pay for my own drinks, thank you very much,” you told the delicious piece of a human being that just paid for your drink.
Elvis chuckled softly, taking a sip of his own drink as he leaned against the bar with his body turned into your direction.
“Doesn’t look like it,” he said teasingly, watching you messily shove your dollar bills back into your clutch. You blew a strand of hair out of your face and stole a cigarette out one of the small wooden boxes that stood on the bar for the people to take, lighting it with a match.
“Don’t you have to do your little dance up there to make aaall the girls swoon over you?” you mocked, throwing a sarcastic smile his way before you took a drag from the cigarette, leaving a lipstick print behind on the bud.
You were still extremely in love with him, but the amount of alcohol in your system made you mouthy─vodka had never been your best friend.
“If I saw right, you were enjoying it too, little one,” he hummed in your ear when he took a step closer to you, slipping his arm around your waist. You had to do your best not to leap into a coughing fit, quickly blowing out the smoke from between your lips. “What are you doin’ here with that greasy piggy bank?”
You ignored the way his fingertips were caressing your side through your dress and how deliciously his thumb was pressing at the side of your boob.
You looked at him, letting out a small scoff as you raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, are we?”
“I told ya I was,” he smirked, raising both his eyebrows once tauntingly and you looked over at David, whose eyes were glued on you and Elvis.
You quickly turned back to the man next to you and raised your hand, slapping his upper arm harshly.
“You could’ve called me, you know?!” you suddenly exclaimed, annoyance lacing your tongue, as you pushed him off of you. “Or even come to meet me somewhere. Am I so easy to toy with?”
Elvis put his drink down and moved back closer to you, pulling you flush against his chest as he had turned you to face him properly. You gasped softly, your cigarette nearly dropping from between your fingertips.
“You’re the one who keeps runnin’, beautiful,” he said with a small grin on his lips, staring you down. You didn’t look away, thanks to the liquid courage crawling through your veins, and placed your empty hand against his chest though didn’t push him away.
“What’re you gonna do when I kiss you again?” he whispered, though it was loud enough for you to hear him.
Your ears were ringing and your heart was beating so hard you were sure the bartender could hear it from where you were standing.
Your eyes traveled down to his lips and when his tongue swiped across his lower lip, you threw all caution to the wind and kissed him as if no one was watching. He took your cigarette out of your hand and placed it in one of the ash trays, wrapping his arms around you.
You had no idea what would happen if Tracy ever found out, but right now that was the last thing on your mind.
The vodka on your tongue was almost intoxicating to Elvis and he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, sucking on your lower lip as his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing the flesh through the fabric of your dress shamelessly.
The music playing at the club and the sound of people chatting faded far away to the background as your mind filled with only Elvis, his presence and his taste.
He was just as far gone as you, trapping you in between him and the bar, not giving a damn about how obscene you two were being in public.
A loud cough seemed to snap both of you back to reality and when Elvis pulled away from your lips, you turned your head to your left and squinted your eyes a little at David, the intoxication of Elvis and the martini’s still heavy on your mind.
“Sorry, my guy. She’s just not that into you.” Elvis told the blonde male who was looking at both of you with angry eyes, growing even more annoyed when Elvis shrugged casually at his own statement. You hid your mouth behind your fingertips as you tried to hold back a laugh and David just shook his head a little, throwing some money on the bar to pay for the drinks before he turned around and left the club.
You wouldn’t even care if he’d report back to Tracy. Those were worries for later.
“Let’s get out of here,” you said, not caring how you were slurring your words a little. Elvis moved off of you a little bit to give you more space to move around as you took your drink and took a big gulp from it, handing him the glass with the last sip. He downed it in one go and put the glass back on the bar, slipping his hand into yours.
As the bartender noticed you two leaving, he jogged over to the end of the bar, yelling at Elvis how he still had another set to perform but Elvis just ignored him and pulled you through the crowd, out of the club.
You tried to keep up with him as he was running down the street, tugging you along with him as he laughed happily.
His laugh was contagious and you loved the sound of it more than anything in the world─wanted to hear it every second of the damn day.
“Where are we going?” you laughed as he was still running, knowing exactly where to go.
Even if he didn’t, you wouldn’t be worried.
You felt more than comfortable around him and you knew that he’d never let anything bad happen to you.
Your eyes fell down to where your bodies were connected by your intertwined fingers, your heart swelling as he looked over his shoulder with a bright smile on his face. Right here, in this exact moment, you felt the happiest you had ever been in your twenty years of life.
“My place,” he grinned as he stopped running, coming to a halt in front of an apartment complex right across Waikiki beach. “Well, it’s my friends’ place. I’m stayin’ with him for the time being,” he said, giving you a knowing look and you giggled softly, biting your lip as you followed him inside of the building.
He was all over you in the elevator and you were more than happy to allow it, but as the doors opened and he pulled you outside, fumbling with his key at the front door a little bit, you clung onto his arm.
“Is your friend home?”
“Nah, baby, he works as a bartender. Won’t be home until the morning,” he grinned at you, finally managing to get the key in and twist it, opening the door.
The slight nerves you felt melted away again and you pushed him against the nearest wall, throwing the door closed behind you.
You captured his lips in a sloppy kiss as your hands moved to the jacket of the suit he was wearing, opening the buttons with quick fingers before you pushed the fabric off of his shoulders. Pulling back from the kiss, you looked at him as he shrugged the jacket off, admiring how freaking good he looked in the black button up he wore underneath that jacket.
You hooked your fingers behind the fabric of his shirt where he had left the bottons open of it, ripping the shirt open completely. He gasped as he looked at you with wide surprised eyes as his buttons went flying through the entrance of the apartment but you didn’t give him the chance to make a comment on it as you ran your hands down his warm chest, nails scraping softly against his nipples.
He bit his lower lip and wrapped his large hands underneath your thighs─you took the hint and jumped, hooking your legs around his waist as he caught you with ease.
You grabbed his face and kissed him hungrily.
The both of you were too intoxicated with each other to even care about him stumbling into some things before he reached the guest bedroom where he was staying.
Your kiss got interrupted as he threw you on the bed and you looked at him, lifting your torso up a little by leaning your elbows on the bed, biting your lip as he took his ripped shirt off, letting the fabric fall to the floor. He kicked off his shoes before he quickly pulled off your pumps and leaned forward, his hands sliding up your thighs and underneath your dress as you were already kissing him again─open mouthed, sloppy kisses that didn’t take long for you to trail down his jawline and neck.
You could taste his cologne on your tongue and moaned softly against his skin, hands running up through his hair, messing up the wax that he had styled it so perfectly with.
He moaned softly as you sucked on his skin while his fingers hooked underneath your panties, sliding them down and you eagerly allowed him to do so.
If this would’ve happened in your sober state, you would’ve been a lot more shy, but you had been waiting for this moment for so long.
You had been craving him for so long, you just didn’t give a damn anymore.
You spread your legs willingly, exposing yourself to him completely and he slicked back some of his hair with the palm of his hand, hungry eyes admiring your arousal that was glistening in the dim moon light that shone through the room.
The view from the bedroom was gorgeous, but right now he was only interested in the view right in front of his face.
He got on his knees in front of the bed, pulling you closer to him by wrapping his arms around your thighs, keeping your legs spread open. He licked his lips as he shot you a quick wink, sending butterflies throughout your entire body and making your heart leap pathetically in your chest, before he leaned in closer.
The kisses he planted on your inner thighs, moving closer to where you needed him most, felt as if someone was keeping a lit match against your delicate skin.
You didn’t even try for one second to hold back as he placed a soft, tiny kiss right on your clit, letting out a needy whimper. You ran your hands through your hair to get some strands out of your face, not caring at all that you were messing up the updo you had perfected a few hours ago and when Elvis ran his tongue up between your wet folds, flicking at your clit once, you moaned lewdly.
He licked his lips as he lifted his head a little, grinning at you.
‘’Can’t believe I’ve been missin’ out on this for so long- you taste fuckin’ delicious,’’ he whispered teasingly, kissing your thigh once more before he leaned down in between your legs once more.
You were expecting him to tease you until the point of you losing your mind, but he had been waiting just as long for this as you had.
He went in with confidence as he ate you out like a starved man─pretty much making out with your pussy as if he hadn’t had human contact for years.
You were trying to move your hips to his rhythm, arching your back off of the bed but he trapped you by pushing you down with his hand on your lower abdomen, lips wrapping around your clit to suck on it as he looked up at you. He released your left thigh and slipped in two of his digits, making you look down at him and moan desperately as your eyes met his.
He grinned tauntingly as he stuck out his tongue, flicking it against your clit at an unholy speed as his fingers didn’t go easy on you either, pumping inside of you.
One of your hands flew to his hair, tangling your fingers in the raven locks, your other hand squeezing the sheets desperately until your knuckles turned white. Your moans were starting to become soundless, coming out in nothing other than a high pitched gasp or whine. The martini’s you had in the span of an hour or so were making your head spin, along with the orgasm that was fastly approaching.
He could tell you were close with how your walls were clenching around his fingers repeatedly, your hips desperately wanting to move away but he still had you trapped, unable for you to escape the sense of euphoria that was so close.
So close you could taste it, but before it came, he pulled away from you completely.
You gasped as you looked at him with wide eyes, wanting to protest until you saw him stand up and pull down his pants and boxershorts.
“Impatient, little one?” he grinned and you couldn’t help but shamelessly sneak a peek at his cock hitting his lower abdomen when it was freed out of the confinements of his clothing, tip red and sensitive, glistening with precum.
You bit your lip as you looked at him.
“Stop calling me that,” you said, a challenging tone on your tongue and he raised an eyebrow, following you on the bed as you pulled yourself further on it.
“What should I call you then, hmm?” he questioned back just as challenging, grinning teasingly at you as he pulled your dress over your head, throwing it to the other side of the bed. He leaned in closer to kiss your lips softly, creeping one hand behind your back─you arched a little, making it easier for him to unclasp your bra and remove it from your body as he pulled back from your lips.
“Anything but that,” you rolled your eyes, a soft blush creeping on your cheeks despite the confidence you had been feeling tonight.
He slipped his hand in between your bodies, aligning himself at your entrance, a soft gasp leaving your lips.
“What would you like to be called, Y/N?” he hummed, pushing the tip in, keeping still inside of you.
Even though it was hard for him as well, because all he wanted to do was fill you up and fuck you into the mattress, he liked teasing you.
He liked seeing that cute little pout on your lips and those hazy eyes looking at him pleadingly, while your pussy seemed eager to suck him all the way in. And it was, you were, so desperate that it made you want to jump out of your skin.
You tried to push him in deeper by wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing your ankles against his lower back but he just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, raising a teasing eyebrow at you. “Use your words, little baby,”
The pet name he used to call you was cute, but you didn’t wanted him to see you like that anymore. You doubted he ever had though, but you hated it whenever it slipped past his lips now.
You huffed as you moved your hands up his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.
“Call me baby,” you whispered, trying to thrust your hips forward so you could surprise him, but it’s like he could predict every single one of your movements. He didn’t budge for one second, instead pulling out again, slipping the tip of his cock through your folds, circling against your clit. You moaned softly and looked up into his eyes, silently begging him to just fuck you already. “Call me yours,”
This seemed to send him over the edge and he lowered his cock to your entrance, pushing himself all the way in. You gasped and cursed softly at the, very much so delicious, intrusion. Your hands moved down to his shoulders again, holding onto him firmly as he gave you a few seconds to get used to him before he started thrusting into you, making you moan out in pleasure. He leaned his head down, kissing your neck sweetly.
“You’re mine, baby,” he grunted in your ear, hips picking up their pace more and more. You had your ankles hooked behind his back now, clinging onto him desperately as he was kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
Maybe they were empty promises, you had no idea, but right now you were on cloud nine.
Finally in the arms of the man you had loved so dearly in silence for so long.
“You’re all mine,” he whispered, pulling his head back to look down at you. He kissed your lips sweetly and you whined a little as it ended way too soon when he pulled back after a minute and sat back, his knees pressed into the mattress.
It only took a second for him to sink back into you.
His thrusts slowed down as he gently grabbed your thighs and spread them, watching the way his cock disappeared inside of you with every thrust forward and took some of your slick with him with every trust back. You were so gorgeous laying there on his bed, little moans that sounded like the sweetest melody leaving your mouth.
The moment felt extremely intimate, especially with how deep he was reaching, softly hitting your g-spot.
“Fuck, that’s hot. Look at that, baby,” he groaned and you followed his line of sight, moaning at the sight of his cock head bulging in your tummy. He pushed forward and kept still for a little bit, cursing softly as you caressed your hands across your lower abdomen and over the bulge.
You hadn’t slept with many guys, but you’d never experienced this before. It was either because you were slim or because Elvis’ cock was a very good size – more likely, it was probably the cause of both those things.
Elvis was mesmerized, keeping his thrusts slow but firm, eager to see your tummy bulging over and over again.
You moaned as you move your hand on top of the bulge and Elvis grinned a little, gently placing his hand atop of yours so you’d keep it there. “Mmm, baby,” he grunted, his eyes staring into yours. “Feel that? You're so tiny I fill up your entire lil’ tummy- goddamnit, honey..”
His words, the sight of his cock rearranging your insides and the feeling of having him so deep – it was all so delicious that you could barely speak.
The love you felt for this man was completely consuming you and you had no intentions to fight off those feelings anymore. To hell with everyone, you needed him and only him.
“S-So deep...” you stuttered out a moan as you removed your hand, the both of you looking at the way he was filling you up completely.
The sight was sinful, yet so intimate at the same time too. Your bodies fit together like a piece of a puzzle that had been missing all your life and perhaps it was because of the alcohol in your system that you were thinking this man’s soul had a connection to yours, but you believed it.
It sure as hell felt like it.
Elvis continued his slow pace for a little bit until he felt your eager hands roam up his arms and over his shoulders, pleading eyes staring up at him, and your pussy clamping down on his cock.
Once more you could sense that feeling of bliss approaching and he quickly picked up the pace, growling deeply. He looked down into your eyes intensely as his eyebrows knitted together in concetration, hips skilfully thrusting as he moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him desperately, keeping him trapped inside of you.
‘’Oh, f-f-uck,’’ he cursed with a grunt, teeth sinking into his lower lip for a second. ‘’I’m g-gonna cum if you keep doin' that,’’ he warned and you just grinned, being drunk on him, letting your own orgasm rip through you.
He moaned as you were sucking him in even harder during your orgasm and he thrusted harder for a few more times, before he quickly pulled out of you and grabbed onto your thighs, spurts of warm cum landing on your stomach. You reached down to wrap your hand around him, squeezing out every last drop.
His eyes were rolling into the back of his head, head thrown back as his hips stuttered pathetically, moans rolling off of his tongue. You gasped softly at the sight, breathing heavily as he fell down on the bed next to you.
The both of you laid silently for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling to catch your breath.
“Tracy is gonna kill me,” you whispered, placing a hand on your forehead.
You cringed at the thought of Tracy finding out about what happened between you and Elvis─you had no idea if you were even going to tell her, but you kind of felt like you had to.
Besides, they broke up, right?
He was a single man and she seemed to be having her own fun with the men on this island.
She’ll get over it.
Elvis turned his head into your direction and you did the same, meeting his eyes.
“What if you stay here?” he asked softly, moving a little closer to you to plant a soft kiss on your shoulder.
“Yeah, I can stay here tonight,”
“No, not tonight,” he said, and you frowned at him curiously. “I mean, yeah ofcourse you’re stayin’ tonight, but I’m talking about here. Hawaii. With me.”
The thought of you staying behind in Hawaii sounded exciting.
Way more than exciting.
Not even thinking about the fact that your sister would be on the same island, and you had college to go back to, you were sold on the idea as soon as he suggested it.
“I guess I can take a gap year?” you suggested, turning your head back to look up at the white boring ceiling.
Your parents were most definitely going to kill you, or get a heart attack upon hearing the news, but there was nothing else in the whole wide world you wanted more.
Except for maybe the dark haired man that was hovering above you again, smiling brightly as he attacked your face with kisses.
He didn’t even have to convince you further to take this leap of faith─tonight he made you his and you never ever wanted to hand that position to anyone else.
You were more than ready for whatever Hawaii would throw at you, as long as you had Elvis by your side.
taglist: @notstefaniepresley @peaceloveelvis @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab
#elvis x reader#elvis smut#elvis presley#elvis#elvis x you#elvis x y/n#elvis x oc#elvis presley smut#elvis presley x reader#elvis fans#elvis fanfiction#tamwrites
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Hi. May I request a late 60s Elvis (charro era) in which he leaves the beard a little longer and female reader is horny because of it. He catches her staring intently until she jumps at him. Smut detailed, not rough but passionate and sensual. Thanks.
Stubble Trouble
(I won these unreleased photos of Elvis on the set of Charro! at an auction recently. I felt they were appropriately delicious for this one-shot)
Summary: Elvis comes home from filming Charro!, looking sexier than ever with a beard. You wish he never had to leave for work again.
Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. But a little domestic fluff too?
You watch the horizon from the porch, the sun setting in a spectacle of orange and pink. The hush of twilight settles over the estate. Humidity clings to your skin, the balmy late summer air heavy with the scent of magnolias.
"Elvis car!" Olivia's voice pierces the calm, her small finger pointing down the winding driveway.
"That's right, baby girl. Daddy's home," you confirm, heart swelling with anticipation and a touch of melancholy. He's home, but for how long?
Will bounces on his toes beside you. "And he's got a beard!"
And indeed, it is your husband’s Cadillac, glossy and grand, pulling up a day early. You smile from ear to ear. Then, a shadow of concern—he's not alone. The Memphis Mafia spill out of the van behind him, their laughter and boisterous greetings disrupting the evening quietude.
You squint at the figure emerging last from the car. It's him, Elvis, with an unfamiliar scruff darkening his jawline. Your breath catches at the sight—your husband, yet somehow brand new.
Elvis’ eyes find you across the front yard, and the heat in his gaze makes your breath catch. But before he can reach you, a rocket shoots into his legs. "Dad! You're home!"
Your husband scoops up your eight-year-old son, giving him the hug of the century. "Hey there, buddy! Did you grow a foot while I was gone?" As your two boys roughhouse, your daughter Olivia, toddles over on wobbly legs. Elvis kneels down, peppering her chubby cheeks with kisses.
"Daddy, fuzzy!" Olivia's small hand reaches for Elvis's scruff. He chuckles, letting her chubby fingers explore his rough face. Her tiny brows furrow, her eyes well up. Her dimpled chin quivers. A baby sniffle pierces the air.
"Shhh." Elvis soothes, gently wiping away the beginnings of a tear with his thumb. He picks her up in his muscular arms, whispering into her ear. The cries recede; a whimsical giggle replaces them. "I missed you rascals something fierce. Were you good for Mama?"
"They were angels," you assure, joining the family huddle. "Welcome home, honey."
Dusting off his pants, Elvis rises to his feet, Olivia secured in one arm and Will clinging to the other. He approaches you, a certain swagger in his step that you've missed and his eyes flashing with something you know all too well—mischief. He sets the kids down and pulls you close, his kiss a sweet homecoming all its own. "Glad to be back, mama." His murmured endearment, the rasp of his beard on your skin, they feel so good that it makes your head spin.
"Welcome home, daddy," you reply, your voice steadier than your racing pulse. The feel of him, changed yet the same, stirs a dormant longing within you.
Your fingers itch to touch the unexpected growth shadowing his jaw. The beard transforms him, adds a rugged edge to the familiar contours of his face that you hadn't realized you'd long for until now. "This is new."
"Thought I'd try something different," Elvis replies, his smile a slow burn just for you. It lights a spark deep within, a yearning you've kept banked during those long nights alone.
"Huh. Looks good on you." You keep your voice light, but inside, desire smolders, fanned to life by this simple change.
"Thought you might like it." His voice drops, a secret shared amidst the din. "Come on in, we've got stories to tell," he says, motioning to the rowdy crew behind him.
You nod, masking disappointment. You'd hoped for privacy, for that passionate reunion you've been craving. But now, with the house about to burst with company, you steel yourself for another night of playing hostess rather than lover.
"Let's get settled first," you suggest, ushering the children ahead of you into the house.
The evening unravels in a blur of activity—dinner preparations, catching up, pick up football. Admittedly, it’s nice to have a house full of laughter, but you wonder when you might have a moment alone with your husband. Amidst it all, you steal glances at Elvis, the way his beard adds a new edge to his expressions, wondering how it might feel against your skin.
“Outta sodas,” you say, hiding a smile. You eye Elvis from across the room. He catches your gaze, the understanding immediately flashing in his eyes.
“I’ll help ya fetch ‘em,” he offers, rising from the couch where he’s been holding court. He follows you into the hallway. The two of you disappear into the cooler back room, away from prying eyes and eager ears.
Kneeling by the crate of chilled sodas, you feel the cool condensation against your fingertips. When you turn around, he’s right there, taking a step closer than necessary. His breath smells of mint and coffee; his eyes are full of promise.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. His hand brushes against your cheek, tender yet insistent. “Miss me?”
In answer, you turn and pull his mouth down to yours, kissing him with nearly six weeks worth of pent-up hunger. Your husband makes a surprised, pleased sound against your lips before taking control of the kiss, backing you up against the humming fridge.
"God, I missed you," he pants when you break apart. "Missed this. Feels like forever since I've had you all to myself."
“Since you’ve had me all to yourself?” you chide. “Elvis, you know I love the guys but did they really have to—”
But his hands quiet your thought. They’re everywhere, sliding under your shirt, dipping into the waistband of your jeans. You arch into his touch, desire spiraling through you. "We can't," you protest weakly. "Everyone's right out there..."
"Let ‘em wait." Elvis nips at your neck, soothing the sting with his tongue. "I've been dying to get my hands on you all day." The scratch of his whiskers is a delicious abrasion. It heightens every sensation as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. A shiver wracks your body as the coarse hair rubs over your hammering pulse point.
The contrast of his soft lips and wiry facial hair is dizzying, addicting. You tilt your head back with a breathy moan, giving him more access even as your hands ball in his shirt. Torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away before you lose all control.
Elvis chuckles darkly against your neck, the vibrations rumbling deliciously through you. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, how much you're loving the sensual brush of his beard on your skin. He drags his fuzzy jaw up to your ear, rasping delightfully against the sensitive flesh behind it.
"Been dreaming about this," he murmurs, his breath hot on your ear as his hands creep beneath your shirt. "About having you trembling for me, my beard on your soft skin as I love on every inch of you..."
You whimper, knees going weak at the erotic promise in his words, the tantalizing burn of his whiskers, the heat of his hard body pressing you into the cool metal of the fridge. It's almost too much, and yet you crave more, already addicted to this new sensation.
"Elvis, please..." you manage, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing you need him to never, ever stop.
Just as you are about to throw caution to the wind and let your husband take you right there, a knock sounds at the door.
"Hey, boss!" a voice calls. "Where'd you disappear to, man? Joe wants to run through the press junket schedule."
Elvis groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. "To be continued," he promises darkly, adjusting himself with a wince.
Stepping back, you reluctantly adjust your clothing. "Raincheck," is all you say, and it's a promise as much as it is a plea. He presses a swift kiss to your lips before opening the door and putting his 'star' smile back on.
You stand frozen for a moment. You shake yourself off. You tell yourself there's always later, there's always tomorrow. You gather the sodas and head back into the main room.
The night drags on. Laughter echoes through the house, amplified by the clink of glasses, the strums of guitars. The party’s in full swing and being a good hostess occupies most of your evening.
You sneak glances at Elvis, at how his beard lends him a new ruggedness that makes your heart hammer in your chest. You long to run your fingers through it, trace the lines of his face. He sometimes looks back, his gaze lingering on you before being pulled away by someone else. His eyes tell you: soon.
Your youngest, Olivia, chatters animatedly about butterflies, and Will bounces around with an energy only an eight-year-old can muster. You enjoy watching them mingle with your friends—however, they also serve as persistent reminders that privacy is out of reach.
Around eleven o’ clock, the house begins to quiet down. People trickle out, leaving behind echoes of laughter and empty plates. The house seems bigger, emptier, a stark contrast to the fullness it held just moments ago. Later, after baths and bedtime stories, you and Elvis collapsed onto the couch together, Elvis pulling your feet into his lap. "I thought I’d never get a minute alone with you," he sighs, kneading your arches.
You let your head fall back, relishing his touch. "I love that you're so busy, but I hate having to share you."
"I'm all yours now, sweetheart." Elvis presses a kiss to your ankle, his beard tickling delightfully. He gives you a heated look from under his lashes. "For the rest of the night, I'm all yours."
Anticipation zings through your veins, and you reach for your husband, already breathless. As he gathers you close, kissing you deeply, you can’t help but think that sometimes, the only thing better than a homecoming... is what comes after.
You sit up, scooting closer to run your fingers over Elvis' fuzzy jaw. "You sure it's you under there? This beard makes you look mighty different," you tease, eyes twinkling. "Like a whole new man."
Elvis turns his head to nip playfully at your fingers, a mischievous glint in his eye. "That so? Should I be worried about this 'new man' stealing my girl?"
You laugh, shaking your head. "Never. You know you're the only man for me, beard or no beard."
"Damn right," Elvis growls playfully, his hands settling on your hips as you shift to straddle his lap. "This 'new man' better know his place."
Draping your arms around his neck, you lean in close, your lips brushing his as you speak. "Oh, I don't know. He's pretty sexy. Rugged. Dangerous. Looks like a cowboy..." You let your voice drop to a husky whisper. "I might just be tempted..."
Elvis' fingers flex on your hips, pulling you flush against him. "Is that right?" He dips his head to nuzzle into your neck, his beard rasping deliciously on your sensitive skin. "Well, I bet this 'new man' don't know how to touch you like I do."
You gasp as he finds a particularly sensitive spot, your back arching. "Mmm, I think you might be right," you manage breathlessly. "Better prove it to me, just to be sure."
"Gladly." Elvis captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair as he sits you on his lap. "Let me show you just how well this old dog knows your body, mama."
You surrender to his touch with a moan, the world falling away until nothing exists but you, Elvis, and the delicious abrasion of his beard on your skin as he sets about thoroughly, blissfully reminding you that he's the only man who could ever make you feel this good.
Your mouths meet in a searing kiss, weeks of pent-up longing pouring out in a slick slide of lips and tongues. You rock against him, reveling in the growing hardness pressing against your center.
His hands roam your back, dipping under your shirt to stroke the smooth skin beneath. You mewl into his mouth, desire turning molten in your veins.
Just as you are considering the logistics of riding him right there on the couch, a creak on the stairs has you jumping apart like scalded cats. You hold their breath, waiting to see if one of the kids had woken up.
After a moment of tense silence, Elvis blows out a shaky laugh. "Probably not the best idea to get carried away down here, huh?"
On trembling legs, you climb off his lap, reaching down to adjust the prominent bulge in his jeans. "Probably not," you agree, giving him a heated look. "Bedroom?"
*
“Just gimme five minutes, I have to take off my makeup first.”
You feel Elvis’ presence behind you before you see him, the heat of his gaze pressing against your skin like a physical touch.
You meet his eyes in the mirror, see him leaning shirtless against the doorframe, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his silk pajama pants. That luscious beard frames the wicked slash of his smile. He looks so good it's almost sinful. "See something you like?" His voice is a husky rumble.
"You could say that." You bite your lip, watching his eyes darken. "I really, really like this new look on you."
He prowls closer, crowding you against the vanity. "Yeah? Is that so?"
You turn in his arms, running your hands appreciatively over the firm planes of his chest. "It makes you look dangerous. Sexy."
Elvis dips his head to nuzzle your throat, the coarse brush of his whiskers making you shiver. "Sexy, huh? How sexy?"
"So sexy it should be illegal." You drag your mouth to his, kissing him with rising urgency. "Take me to bed," you demand against his lips. "Now."
Elvis wastes no time complying, lifting you easily into his arms and carrying you to the bed. He tumbles you onto the sheets, covering your body with his, both of you already breathing hard.
He undresses you slowly, almost reverently, rough fingertips and soft lips and scratchy beard worshipping every inch of skin he unveils. When he finally settles between your thighs, the first intimate rasp of his whiskers makes you cry out, fisting your hands in his hair.
"God, the way you taste," Elvis rasps against your slick folds, his voice rough with desire. "I'll never get enough."
He seals his lips around your most sensitive bundle of nerves and sucks gently, making you cry out and fist your hands in his hair. He groans in response, the vibrations shooting sparks of electricity through your core.
"Please," you whimper, hips rocking shamelessly against his face. "Don't stop..."
Elvis answers with a deep, approving hum, the tip of his tongue flicking over you in maddening little licks. "Never," he murmurs, beard and hot breath on your inner thighs a delicious contrast to his soft, demanding mouth on you. "Want to make you fall apart, over and over. Worship you with my mouth until you forget everything but my name..."
His words, low and fervent and filthy, push you to the brink as much as his dedicated ministrations. You sob out a broken plea as he wraps his lips around you again and sucks hard, pushing two thick fingers into your dripping channel at the same time.
"That's it, baby," he coaxes gutturally, crooking his fingers just right and rubbing ruthless circles around your swollen, aching bud. "Let me feel you, let me taste you falling apart..."
With a keening cry you shatter, back bowing and fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as your release crashes over you in pulsing waves. Elvis works you through it with lips and tongue and fingers, drawing out your pleasure until you collapse against the sheets, boneless and trembling. His beard is gleaming with your slick.
As you slowly come down from your high, you feel Elvis pressing tender kisses to your inner thighs, his whiskers a thrilling friction on your sensitive skin. You tug gently on his hair, urging him up your body until you can capture his mouth in a deep, languorous kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you shudder, your spent body already sparking with renewed desire.
"I wanna make you feel good too," you murmur against his lips, nipping playfully at the full bottom one. "I want to show you how much I missed you, how much I need you..."
Elvis' groan is low and needy as you push gently at his shoulders, encouraging him onto his back. You take your time mapping his chest with lips and fingers, re-memorizing every ridge and plane. He's lost in pleasure, muscles jumping under your touch, his breathing ragged as you chart a slow, meandering path down his long torso.
When you reach the waistband of his pajamas, you pause, looking up at him from under your lashes as you hook your fingers under the elastic. Elvis meets your gaze, his own heated and dark with want, his lips parted as he pants softly. Slowly, teasingly, you peel the fabric down, your heart racing in anticipation as his hardness is revealed inch by tortuous inch.
"God, look at you," you breathe, taking in the proud jut of his cock straining towards his belly. A thrill chases down your spine knowing that you did that to him, that he wants you just as desperately as you want him. "Look at this husband of mine... so hard for me already."
"Always," Elvis rasps, his voice strained and his hands fisting in the sheets as you ghost your fingers up his length. "Feels like I'm going to burst out of my skin with how bad I need you..."
You hum in satisfaction, running your thumb over the slick head and making him shudder. Slowly, you lower your lips, never breaking eye contact as you breathe hotly over where he's aching for you. "Let me take care of you," you whisper, a promise and a plea all in one. "Let me show you how much I love you."
Then you take him into your mouth, and the broken moan that spills from his lips is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.
You work him with spit and fingers and lips and tongue and just the barest hint of teeth, relishing every helpless sound you wring from him. You can feel how close he is, his thighs trembling, his grip on your hair bordering on painful. With a wicked hum, your relax your your throat and take him as deep as you can.
Elvis lets loose a stream of garbled curses, his hips jerking erratically. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna—"
But you just doubl your efforts, holding his gaze as you hollow your cheeks and suck hard. With a guttural cry, Elvis spills himself down your throat, his chest heaving as you gentle him through his sweet release.
"Christ," he pants as you release him and crawl up to drape yourself over his chest. "That was... You are..." He gives up and just hauls your mouth to his, kissing you breathless.
*
As you trade slow, deep kisses, you feel Elvis stirring against your thigh once more. A thrill chases down your spine at the evidence of his desire, your own body responding in kind. Wrapping your hand around his length, you stroke him gently, savoring the velvety heat of him and the way he pulses in your grip. "Already?" you tease. "Someone's eager."
Elvis nips your bottom lip. "Six weeks," he reminds you, rocking into your grip with a grunt. "You're lucky I lasted five minutes."
Giggling, you straddle his his hips, rubbing yourself along his length until you are both panting. "I think you ought to get to practicing then," you purr. "We've got weeks to make up for."
Elvis groans into your mouth, his hips rocking instinctively into you. "Need you," he pants against your lips, voice rough with want. "Need to be inside you..."
You nod desperately, just as aching to have him filling you up after so long apart. Rising up on your knees, you position him at your entrance, your breath catching as you slowly sink down onto his rigid length. His beard rasps against your neck, sending shivers up your spine.
Your body resists the intrusion at first, unaccustomed to the stretch after weeks without him. Elvis gentles you through it with soft kisses and soothing caresses, whispering words of love and praise as you take him inch by careful inch. The slight discomfort quickly melts into exquisite pleasure as he breaches you fully, your inner walls fluttering around him as you adjust to the thick, heavy feel of him inside you.
"God, baby," Elvis rasps, his big hands gripping your hips almost tight enough to bruise. His eyes are squeezed shut and his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he's fighting for control. "You feel so good. So tight. Like you were made just for me..."
You let out a shuddering sigh as you settle fully into his lap, relishing the sensation of being one with him again. "I was," you breathe, rolling your hips experimentally and making you both gasp. "Only for you. Always."
Slowly, you start to move, rising up until he nearly slips out of you before sliding back down to the hilt. Elvis meets your every downward stroke with an upward roll of his pelvis, burying himself impossibly deep. You set a slow, burning rhythm, sweat beading on your skin as you rock together, drawing out every delicious drag of him inside you.
Your fingers dig into his shoulders and your thighs tremble with exertion, but you barely register the strain. All you can focus on is your husband—his panting breaths and reverent gaze, the thick slide of his cock stretching you again and again, the heat of his body surrounding you and grounding you. In this moment, joined so intimately after what felt like an eternity apart, everything else fades away.
"Missed this," you grit out, your hands roaming restlessly over his back, his neck, scratching the dark hair on his jaw. "Missed you. I love you so damn much."
You rock together, slow and dirty, skin slick with sweat. Clutching at his shoulders, his back, urging him deeper, harder. The wiry scrape of his chest hair and beard against your sensitive nipples makes you writhe on top of him, the added stimulation almost too much to bear.
"Touch yourself," he rasps in your ear, changing the angle of his hips so he is grinding against your clit with every stroke. "Make yourself come on my cock, sweetheart."
You obey with a whimper, fingers flying to your center. Elvis eases you onto your back, gripping your thighs as he gently eases back into you, eyes black with lust as he watches you touch yourself. A private show for his eyes only.
The sight of him above you—miles of tanned skin, thick forearms corded with muscle, narrow hips rolling into you—combined with the magic you are working between your legs undoes you in record time. With a desperate whimper, you convulse around him, fingernails scoring his chest as you fall apart.
"I love you so much," Elvis sighs, fucking you through it. "One more, baby, give me one more."
He lowers himself even closer to you now, spreading your knees wide against his thighs and hugging you close to his chest. Enveloping you and never letting you go. You cling onto him with a sob, the new position letting him fill you impossibly deep. Elvis’ hands cup your backside, helping to fuck you a slow, tantalizing rhythm.
“My wife, my wife,” he moans and his beard rasps the tender skin of your neck and he bites and sucks, stoking the heat building low in your belly.
"Elvis," you keen, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He holds you closer, whispering unintelligibly into your ear. "Oh god..."
He reaches between your bodies to rub tight circles around your bud, and the sensation combined with the delicious drag of him inside you sends you flying. You come with a silent scream, back arching, stars exploding behind your eyelids.
Elvis follows you a heartbeat later, burying his face in your neck with a muffled shout. You rock together through the aftershocks, until you collapse bonelessly underneath his sweat-slicked chest.
Tumbling back against the pillows, you are a tangle of sated, trembling limbs. Elvis’ big hands soothe up and down your belly, his lips pressing soft kisses to your sweat-damp temple.
"Why do I ever leave?," he murmurs roughly. "I hate being away from you and the kids. Felt like I left a piece of myself behind." He pauses. "This is my favorite part of coming home. Having you in my arms again."
Emotion clogs your throat. "I wish it could always be like this." You look up at him, tracing his bearded jaw tenderly. "That you didn't have to leave so often."
"About that..." Elvis' arms tighten around you. "I've been thinking a lot lately. Y'know, about the stuff that really matters to me. And that's you and the kids. I'm gonna talk to Parker, see about cutting back on some of these long stretches away."
Your heart soars even as you search his face cautiously. "You mean it? You'd do that?"
"For you, mama? Anything." He seals his promise with a slow, sweet kiss. "I'm here now. and I aim to be here a lot more."
Tears prick your eyes, joy and relief overwhelming. "I'd love that," you whisper, lacing your fingers with his. "The kids would too."
“Yeah, me too,” he sighs. “Feels like I lose a little piece of me every time I’m gone.”
You nuzzle into his neck, relishing the prickle of his beard on your well-loved skin. "Looks like you found a new piece while you were gone," you tease. "I must say, I'm a fan."
"You really like it?" Elvis sweeps a hand over his scruffy jaw, grinning. "Maybe I'll keep it. Hey, if it gets you this hot for me, I may never shave again."
You just laugh, pulling him down for a long, slow kiss. You’d had a feeling that this stint away had made him rethink his priorities, and that maybe you’d be seeing a lot more of him— beard and all—in the coming months.
And as you snuggle down into your husband's embrace, his contented rumble vibrating through you, you decide there was nowhere on earth you’d rather be than right here, wrapped up in his arms. Beard burn and all.
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