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strang3lov3 · 20 days

Text

Invisible Line

Summary- Boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Roman Roy x F!Reader | 5.8k words

Tags- one bed trope mothafuckas!! mutual masturbation, unprotected piv, cream pie, oral (f receiving), come eating, dirty talk, soft dom!roman, power imbalance, needy and desperate reader, light degradation, manipulative Roman, Roman’s not the nicest but he does let you snuggle him

A/N- This is my first Roman Roy fic, so please be gentle 🫣 I know he’s got his issues with sex, so just play pretend with me. My usual Joel readers, I haven’t forgotten about you, he’s cumming soon 🫡🍆 but if you were feeling so inclined I’d appreciate it if you gave Roman a chance 🥺🩷

I had a fucking team of editors for this fic!! Thank you thank you thank you @noxturnalpascal, @papipascalispunk, @beefrobeefcal and @pinkypromisepascal for polishing this baby up

Fic notifs, Masterlist, Ko-Fi

You’ll never get used to the type of hotels you now stay in. All the lights glittering, floors shining, ceilings so high. You’d call it luxurious, but to your boss, Roman, this is considered modest. You’re always reminded that you and he come from two very different worlds.

As his assistant, you’re accompanying him on his “bullshit amusement park safety meeting in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere,” as Roman had so graciously put it. He’s got such a way with words. He’s exaggerating of course, always so hyperbolic. You’re not in the middle of nowhere, you’re in Nashville, Tennessee. It’s early June and the air is finally beginning to cool for the evening.

“We’re fully booked,” the receptionist says to you after first explaining that no, there’s no mix up of sorts, you had only booked one room and not two adjoining rooms like you’d thought.

Just fifteen minutes earlier, you helped Roman with his bags and such up to his room. Roman carried the heaviest of his own bags to be a gentleman, call it his soft spot for you or whatever, but just to be a dick, still had you carry his briefcase that he was more than capable of carrying on his own. It is your job, after all.

When you arrived with him to the spacious room, decorated with abstract wall art and odd sculptures, Roman wasted no time in flopping on the single king sized bed. After seeing no door to connect to an adjoining room, Roman sent you back to reception. “Well, better figure it out,” he said, waving you away, his eyes never once looking away from his phone screen. “I’m set here, so thanks. You can go fuck off. Have a nice evening and all that. Enjoy masturbating in your crispy white bed sheets, courtesy of Hyatt hospitality.” Always so vulgar. You’re not shocked by it anymore.

“Nothing?” you ask the receptionist. “There’s no way. I just need a single queen, I don’t care what floor it’s on. Isn’t there something?”

“Bonnaroo,” the receptionist explains, once more typing on her keyboard to double check and see if there’s a room for you. “Yeah, I’m sorry, we don’t have any other rooms available. Bonnaroo weekend is always when we’re busiest. People book months in advance. I wish I could help you,” she frowns apologetically.

You’re not upset. It’s your own fault. And you’d seen Bonnaroo posters around the lobby advertising the shuttle that transports people from the hotel to the festival. And you’d seen the headliners, too. Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, LCD Soundsystem. Friday and Saturday tickets are sold out. You’re not surprised it’s all booked.

“No, I know,” you reply. “It’s my fault.”

You sigh deeply, and the receptionist types into her computer, prints a piece of paper and hands it to you. “This is a list of hotels nearby. Call around, they might have something.” She wishes you good luck, and you pull out your phone to begin making the calls, only then realizing your battery is at 2%. Now you have nowhere to go but back to Roman’s room.

–

You knock on Roman’s door and wait. Nothing. You knock once more, nothing again. You’re about to knock for a third time when Roman finally opens, his shirt a few buttons undone and his belt loosened. “What do you want?”

“Can you let me in?” you ask, “I need to use your phone, please.”

Roman’s taken some getting used to. You never quite know where you stand with him, what exactly he thinks of you. Moment to moment, you never know which Roman you’re gonna get – the flirting Roman, the occasional sweet and tender Roman, or the cold, sarcastic, uncaring and taunting Roman.

“Can you let me in?” Roman mocks, opening his door wider and guiding you into his room with his hand on your lower back. Taunting Roman. His touch makes your tummy flutter. Something about his unpredictability thrills you, excites you. You’re attracted to it, and you don’t know why.

Your phone charges by a nearby outlet as you sit at the desk with the room phone as Roman paces around, rifling through his suitcase to find his pajamas. They’re simple looking clothes, pale blue bottoms and a plain white shirt, but you know the cost of the outfit is equivalent to someone’s rent. He changes in front of you, something he’s always done. You’re not exactly sure why he does that or what he’s trying to do, but you do your best to not steal any glimpses of him as you begin calling the numbers on the paper, though the task proves to be difficult. Flirting Roman?

The first hotel on your list is The Hermitage, which is a bust. The Joseph is also a bust. Conrad Nashville, same deal. You’re keeping your voice as low as possible, hoping Roman doesn’t overhear your conversation. The last thing you want to do is give him more ammo. You sigh as you cross out the names on the paper one by one with one of the hotel’s branded pens.

Roman’s on the bed, smirking, rolling his eyes. You can see it in your peripherals. “You fucked up, didn’t you? Forgot to book yourself a room?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, now calling the fourth and final hotel on your list.

“You shut up,” Roman says. “Told you to double check.”

You wave a hand in his direction to quiet him. After asking your now three times rehearsed ‘Do you have any rooms available?’ and being met with an apology and a no, you reply to the person on the other end of the call with a “Yup, Bonnaroo, understood. Thank you.” Sighing, you hang up the phone and bury your face in your palms. You know what your only option is here, and you’re scared to look at it, to look at Roman. You know that even if you don’t verbally ask, your eyes will say it all.

Roman slides off the bed and makes his way to you, then nudges your foot with his own. “Am I doing you a favor tonight?”

“I uh…”

“Oh, of course I am. Good thing I’m feeling generous, huh?” Roman’s lips are curled into an almost-sweet smile when you finally look at him. “Bed is mine,” he enunciates. “You can take the floor, I don’t care. Or push those chairs together or some shit.” You look at the chairs he’s referring to and nod. Roman goes back to his bed, and you pull your own set of pajamas from your suitcase, then change in the bathroom. Once out of the bathroom, you push together the chairs that Roman was referring to.

“Oh god, I didn’t think you’d actually do that. No, no, I was just joking – we’ll share the fucking bed. Yeah?” Roman pats the other side of the bed. “I’m not cruel like that, Christ. Making me feel like some fuckin’ sort of - sort of sadist. Not gonna bite you.”

“Won’t you?” you tease.

That was the wrong thing to say. Your blood goes cold as Roman glares at you, displeased with your teasing. Reminding you of your place, that even though Roman can joke, make however many unsavory comments as he’d like, you can’t always do the same. Cold Roman. But then Roman cracks a smile, flashing his pretty white teeth and winks, his eyes sparkling. The boss-employee dynamic between you and him is always inconsistent, things going from professional to unprofessional, from friendly to friendlier.

He pulls the covers down the bed, once more patting the space next to him, indicating his invitation for you to join him. You round the bed and slide under the covers, the sheets feeling cool against your bare feet and legs. “You’ve got ulterior motives, don’t you? You fucked up the booking on purpose.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed. “No, Roman.”

“You totally did,” Roman says as you adjust the pillows behind you, “You’re trying to entrap me. You’ve weaseled your way into my bed so you can sue me later for harassment or some shit but I’m telling you, it’s not gonna happen. Trust me when I say that it’s in your best interest to behave yourself.” Roman drags his finger down the center of the bed, bisecting it evenly. “Don’t cross this line. Not even your fuckin’…pinky finger. Got it?”

“Understood, Mr. Roy.”

“Attagirl,” he chirps. “Wait, ew. Jesus Christ, Roman, you call me Roman. Not that Mr. Roy shit. God, that’s gross.”

You’ll take any chance you can to get under his skin after all he does to you. Flipping over on your side, you face the window and watch the city lights dance before pulling out your phone and silently scrolling through Instagram. Roman does similar, though he doesn’t reciprocate the courtesy of doing so quietly. He watches videos at full volume, shaking the bed with his giggles.

You shift to your other side, now facing Roman, who lays on his back. Your phone rests on the bed as you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks. You don’t often see him look relaxed like how he does now – how sexy he looks in those thin pajamas of his, his biceps toned and his bulge protruding from beneath the fabric of his pants. His usually sleek hair is slightly messy, and you wonder how those silky strands would feel between your fingers as you tug on them, with him holding you close in a tight embrace and his lips connected to yours, swallowing your moans.

You tell yourself not to think about it, about him. Don’t think, don’t think, god, do not think about him. Don’t think about his thick bulge or his hands or their wrinkles, the bluish-green veins that climb up his knuckles. Don’t think about his waist, don’t think about his soft tummy, or the thin line of hair leading down his groin and beneath his pants.

Roman’s looking at you, wearing that sly, cocky grin of his, pleased with the knowledge of what he does to you. He shuts his phone off and turns off the light on his nightstand, the faint glow coming from the open curtains now the only light.

He doesn’t take long to drift into a slumber, though you do, still thinking of the things you shouldn’t be. Images of Roman still dance in your mind for hours, you watch the time go by when you check your phone’s lock screen. You hear his voice in your head, that two word instruction from him playing over like a broken record. Behave yourself. And god, you can fucking smell him. He smells clean, like he always does, with notes of Caroline Herrera’s Bad Boy filling your nostrils – a cologne with a truly obnoxious bottle and an even more obnoxious name. Roman picked it out one time you were with him while he was shopping, just to piss you off. You’ve never hated the smell, though, and you love it even more on his skin. But he smells like sweat too, just a bit. So masculine and slightly musky, you can almost taste him.

Your hand has moved on its own accord underneath your shirt and between your breasts. You’re not sure when it happened, but you become acutely aware of it when your knuckles brush against your nipple and you gasp.

Roman stirs in his sleep, but he’s dead to the world. And you’re good at keeping yourself quiet – at least you think you are.

You turn your head to look at Roman, pinching and twisting at your nipples. Alternating between soft and hard, gentle and rough touches. Roman’s got his arm draped over his head, his palm so close to you. You imagine it’s that hand, his hand, squeezing and groping the soft flesh of your breasts, pretending that tingling feeling when you drag your thumbs over your sensitive buds is his tongue, all hot and wet. You let yourself breathe, the quietest moans escaping your lips.

And then you let your fingers dip lower, your fingertips skating down your body, feeling your sides and the soft curve of your tummy, your hips. Your hand goes lower and lower, your thighs parting as you find your core but not moving your legs wide enough to cross Roman’s invisible line. Tracing your lips first, your fingers travel closer to where you need to feel them the most. You’re wet, so fucking wet as you press your middle finger against your hole, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit.

You shift in the bed, spreading your legs wider and now circling your clit with your middle and ring fingers, dipping them into your entrance once more to gather your arousal and drag it up through your folds. Massaging yourself, you still pretend it’s Roman’s hand as you take in that sweet feeling that’s quickly beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each circle of your fingertips on your clit, fighting yourself to keep your hips as still as can be.

Romans voice startles you. “For a second I wondered if we’re near a fuckin’... earthquake, or uh– fault line or something, but you’re just rubbing one out next to your boss. Wow. Do you always shake the bed this much when you masturbate?”

You gasp, “Roman.”

“Or just when you’re next to me?” You’re not really sure what the right move here is. You could pull your hand from under your pants, but Roman’s already caught you red handed. Leaving your hand between your thighs is not the right move either. “Funny,” he adds, “I thought we just had a conversation about behaving. Didn’t we?”

“I know, I–”

“I mean, you get brownie points for not crossing the line in the bed, I guess,” Roman lifts the covers of the bed, then reaches for your knee and gently pushes it back on your side of the bed. “But you are crossing all sorts of other lines. You must think you’re sneaky. I heard you moaning, you know,” he accuses. He mocks you then, all snark and derision as he lets out exaggerated and breathy moans you’re almost sure you weren’t making. Roman, oh, Roman! Yeah, right there, Roman, please…

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?” he asks as he reaches for your jaw with one of his hands, turning you to look at him. He pinches, fingertips digging into the softness of your cheeks. No hiding now. “Is that what gets you off?”

“No,” you stammer.

“Liar.”

The air feels thick and Roman’s hazel eyes are dark, inky black, perhaps from the lack of light or maybe, you think, his own arousal? No, probably not. He looks genuinely pissed and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, his intense gaze making you squirm. But you can’t seem to look away, either. He allows a silence to hang heavily between you both as he stares at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. And that’s when you notice it – with the hand that’s not holding your jaw, he’s stroking his cock underneath his pants. You can see the bulge, the shifting of his hand.

“You’re touching yourself too,” you point out.

“Yeah, now I am. I’m a man. You made blood rush to my penis with your fucking moans and your Roman this and Roman that,” he huffs. Pulling down his pants and letting his cock spring free, he continues, “So my dick is hard. It should be your problem to deal with, but I’m bailing you out yet again. Always cleaning your— fuck,” he stutters, “Your messes.”

You have no clue what’s happening here. Roman lets go of his cock for a moment and he reaches for your arm, guiding you to start moving your hand once again. “Get it out of your system,” he says. “Go on. You didn’t have an issue fucking yourself next to me five minutes ago, did you?”

Cautiously, as with Roman you know full well that this could be a trap, you begin to move your hand with his guidance. “Yeah, good girl,” he whispers in a hushed, almost imperceptible tone, one that you probably weren’t supposed to hear. “God, I can’t believe you,” he says more clearly this time. “You better make it quick. We’re getting this over with, and we’re not looking at each other. Call it your punishment or something, just fuckin’— take care of yourself.”

Roman adjusts so he’s flat on his back and resumes stroking his cock. His eyes are screwed shut and you’re watching his chest rise and fall, fully breaking the rule he just set. But you can’t help yourself, he looks so gorgeous like this. His pubic hair is longer than you would have expected Roman to have, but gorgeous nonetheless. He’s not the longest but his head is wide and round, with thick veins climbing his shaft.

“You’re watching, you fucking creep,” he says in a breathy tone, his words slightly broken. He’s not looking at you, only at the ceiling above. “Breaking the rules. You have a hard time with that, don’t you? Look, I can follow rules. Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

Roman rolls his eyes at that, then flips on his side to finally look at you. A flicker of what looks to be relief quickly washes over his features, but quickly disappears. He reaches for your shirt, hiking it up your torso and tugging – up, take it off. You do as he asks, taking off your top and exposing your breasts to the chill of the air in the hotel room.

“I hope you know that I’m not gonna touch you,” Roman says.

“I know,” you breathe. “I know you won’t, I just, I just…”

“Just what?” Roman asks, still stroking his cock. You take off the rest of your pajamas and adjust yourself slightly, then spread your legs wide, the invisible line be damned as your knees fall back toward your chest and you rub your swollen clit. God, how you need his fingers inside you. You’d fuck yourself on your own fingers, but it won’t satisfy you in the way you think Roman could. “Spit it out,” Roman demands.

Fuck it. You’ll deal with whatever consequences later. In the boldest of moves, you reach for the hand that strokes his cock and bring it to your pussy, guiding Roman’s middle and ring fingers to your entrance and pushing them inside.

Roman wears a twisted sort of smile as he curls his fingers inside you, now playing his own game with you. He taunted you with an accusation of ulterior motives, but it was all talk, like how most of Roman is. He suspected this before, but now he's certain: you have nothing but need for him. Amused by it, he’s now playing his game with you. As you moan for him he wonders, how much can he toy with you, drag this out? How much will you beg for him? Your hand is wrapped around his cock now by your own choice, he wonders how low will you sink, and how high will he feel by the end of whatever this is?

You’re inching closer to him. Desperate.

“Your hand is wrapped around my cock,” he whispers. “And you buried my fingers inside your cunt. Is something not clicking in that head of yours?”

“So good,” you breathe. You work his shaft, twisting your hand up and down. He’s thick, veiny, his head feels smooth in your palm. Roman’s touch is firm as removes your hand from his cock to hover it beneath your chin. “Spit,” he tells you. You’re so pliant, and do as you’re told, spitting into your own palm, Roman putting it back where he wants it. “Wow. I pull my cock out and you’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”

All you do is nod.

“God you’re soaked. Are you always this soaked for me? Just walking around all day, panties fuckin’ ruined?”

“Sh– shut up.”

Oh, you’ve still got some bite left. Roman wonders how quickly he can make that diminish. “Poor thing, did I hit a nerve? You wanna fuck me that badly? Are you really that desperate for your boss?” You say nothing, just inch even closer to Roman now. You hook a leg over his hip, moving your cunt towards what you need most from him, slowly guiding him in your hand ever closer to your entrance and hoping he’ll remove his fingers from you and replace them with his cock. And thank god, he does it. He pushes your hand away, gripping his member and notching the tip in your entrance. Fucking finally.

But he only collects your wetness on his tip, then spreads it down his shaft. He pushes his pelvis forward, rubbing his cock against your hooded clit and making you shiver.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he taunts, now dragging his cockhead down your dripping seam.

“Roman,” you whine.

“Roman,” he says, mimicking your whine, exaggerating how pathetic you sound. “Is that all you can say?”

“Fuck me,” you gasp. “Just fuck me, Roman.”

“Yeah, I know. You know my name and how to nag me to fuck you. I get it. What you’re not getting is that I don’t care. It’s not gonna happen tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that… Just gonna fuckin’ play with you like this,” he hums, now pushing his cock up against your clit again, tapping you. “Yeah, you’re good. This is… this is good. I’ve been so bored recently, you know? Wonder what happens when I do this,” Roman stops tapping his head against your sensitive clit, now sliding himself left and right across your sex. He bites his bottom lip when you gasp and squirm.

“I wonder if I could make you come just doing this,” he muses, continuing to tease you. “I know I could. I could blow my load on your pussy right now and make you clean up a mess for once. Is that what you need? For me to show you what you’re meant for?”

Maybe, you think. Maybe not. You don’t know what you think. You need his cock. Roman pushes himself forward, fitting just his head into your hole again. And you think it’s coming, the fullness, the pressure, the ache and the stretch and the burn. He’s bent on his two prior rules, but compromise never comes. He doesn’t give in to you. Roman’s grinning, giggling to himself as he draws his hips backward, denying you. Watching how you struggle for him, how you whine and squirm and push your hips towards him. “Is it?” he asks.

“Fuck, is what?”

“Is that what you need?”

“Yeah, I need you to fuck me. Roman, please. Need it – need you inside.”

Roman pushes out an exhale somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. That’s not what I asked at all. Is listening really that hard for you? What do they call that, tunnel vision but for hearing. Tunnel hearing? I don’t think that’s right.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Google it for me.”

“Roman.”

“What the fuck do you think I hired you for? Google it. For me. Thanks.”

Roman lifts his dick again, rubbing it against your clit and then lining himself up again, all as you scramble for your phone and quickly open Safari. ‘Funnel visipn bur for hearin g’ is what you type, the combined sensations of Roman’s teasing and the too-bright screen making your task difficult. “Audi-auditory exclusion,” you manage to tell him.

“Lemme see it,” Roman takes your phone from your hand, squinting at the screen. “Auditory exclusion is a form of temporary loss of hearing occurring under high stress,” he reads in his phony serious tone, still teasing you, bumping into your clit and then notching himself at your entrance, again and again and again. Giving you just a taste of what you know he could offer you instead. He’s opening Wikipedia now. “Auditory exclusion happens as a result of the physiological effects of the acute stress response, specifically an increased heart rate.”

“Fuck me, Roman, fuck me, please, I’m begging, please, please…”

“Begging’s nice, good. Very good. Very cute. But uh–” Roman points to your phone, “I’m busy reading here, so maybe quiet down. I really don’t want to hear it,” he laughs breathlessly, but nothing about this is funny to you. You’re in tears now. Tears of anger, frustration, shock. Roman lines up with your slick hole, just as he’s done repeatedly before. He notices your tears, “My god, you’re crying for it. So desperate, aren’t you?” he mocks your pout, wiping away your tears. You tell him you need him. “Need me? What a strong word. Yeah, I know that you need me. Message clear. God, you repeat yourself a lot. Fucking annoying.”

Fuck this. Roman’s still on Wikipedia and down some rabbit-hole not even related to auditory exclusion. He’s stopped teasing you, his cock just resting, nestled at your entrance as he scrolls. And you take your chance.

You reach for his shoulders and flip yourself so you’re above him, then sink down on his cock. Roman’s startled but he moans as he disappears into you and you sigh, finally feeling that stretch of his cock you’ve been craving since you don’t even know when – long before tonight. Roman watches where your body connects to his, seemingly shocked. He scoffs. “Oh, fuck you.”

Roman pushes your body off of his, he’s small but stronger than he looks. He flips you on your tummy and his touch is harsh but just what you need when he finally grabs your hips, placing his palm between your shoulder blades and forcing your chest down to the mattress. He was somewhat gentle when he was teasing you before, but all of that is gone now, as he lines up with your entrance and slams his hips into you, rocking you forward. He pulls out almost all the way before doing it again, harder. So many noises. You – gushing on his cock, moaning, crying out for him. Roman – his thighs slapping against yours, his grunts and his curses and breathy groans. The bed creaking with each of his thrusts. Roman fills you up better than you could imagine – fucking perfectly –hitting your walls, that sweet spot inside you.

“So fucking wet for your boss. What’s that say about you, huh?”

Roman grips your hips tight – too tight. He’s denting his nails into your skin and it hurts, his thumbs are digging into your lower back. There’s no fluidity to his thrusts, no steady roll of his hips. Just Roman, parting your insides with the harsh rutting of his hips. His heavy balls swinging, bouncing against your clit, his soft tummy warm against your back.

He sets a steady rhythm, a rhythm for his pleasure alone. Fucking you seemingly in two, exactly how you want it. Of course you want it this way. He can hear it in your muffled whimpers and cries, he wonders if the sheets are stained under your face, soaked with your tears. Roman holds your waist, forcing you up with your back against his chest. “Fuck,” you cry, and Roman wraps a hand over your mouth, the other is groping your breasts. Not that he doesn’t love the sounds you’re making for him, he just wants to give you another reminder of who’s in charge here – of how this is gonna go down, according to Roman.

He tugs your earlobe between his teeth, his nose nudging your cheek. His mouth travels lower then, he bites at your neck where it meets your shoulders, the stubble on his cheeks scratching your skin. He’s sucking at your flesh hard enough to leave a mark – for what reason, he’s not entirely sure. To punish and to hurt you, humiliate you, maybe even mark you as his. It’s possessive and primal in essence, how the way you need him so fervently makes him feel powerful in a way he often does not. And you’re not helping your case at all, with your squirming and your whimpers only egging him on. You tried to take what you need from him, but he’ll drill into your head that you’ll only receive what he’s willing to give to you.

He wonders what comes after this. If you’ll turn on your side in bed, leaking with his come and hiding yourself from him, or if maybe you’ll cling to him instead. He knows that he’ll lay next to you after this and wonder what you’ll be like for the rest of this trip. Will you be shyer, about the same as usual, or maybe even bold? He’ll experiment with you, see how you react to a cold shoulder or a shower of attention. See what you’ll do when he squeezes your ass, or when sitting next to him in the car, the helicopter, or at dinner when his hand finds your thigh and inches closer to your sex. Will you lean into it? Will you squirm and push his hand away?

His hands travel along your sides and down your torso, he can tell you’re loving his touch. You’re shameless in your reaction to him, your pussy squeezing him, your wanton moans. Curious, Roman reaches for your clit just to see how you’ll respond. He teases you, tries to write his name with his fingertips into you. Lewd sounds of skin slapping skin, the obscenity of your pussy’s slick noises. He’s not going to last much longer, that is quite clear.

He doesn’t care to try to make you finish first, as a gentleman should, although Roman nor anyone else would describe himself as such. You’re on his time. He knows how desperate you are to come, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get his first, something he doesn’t often get otherwise. And so his pace quickens, still biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck and shoulders. He bets that in all those late-night fantasies of yours about this moment, touching yourself in the dark, you didn't picture him being a biter. This much is evident with your pussy clenching on him and your short gasps showing your surprise.

He savors that feeling in every inch of himself – the power he holds knowing you’re aching not only to come on his cock, but to feel his touch, to experience him. It’s still just a game to Roman. Maybe it’ll always be a game. He’s not sure yet.

His cock twitches inside you, that warm and sticky feeling in his balls is beginning to crescendo. “I need to come,” you beg. “Roman, please make me come, I need-.”

“Shut up. I don’t care.” Roman fucks you with frenzied thrusts, and he doesn’t pull out to stroke himself above you, doesn’t ask you if you’re on the pill or if you want him to come on your ass or your tits or in your mouth. Roman shamelessly lets himself go and fills you with his hot spend. His noises are like music as he comes inside you, melodic grunts and moans coming from deep within him. And you take it all, everything he gives you because that’s what you’re meant for.

Roman takes heaving breaths above you, pulling out and his spend spills onto the comforter. He doesn’t give a shit. And as you collapse down onto your hands and knees you think that’s that, that he really doesn’t care. That all of this was probably about Roman savoring the feeling of having control over another person, and that dangling pleasure over her head is how he’ll get it.

Roman climbs off the bed and you’re trembling. He flips you onto your back, pulls you forward by your legs so that your sex is centered with his face as he kneels at the edge of the bed. His mind has changed quickly – first he wanted to know what would happen if he didn’t make you come. He thought next about eating you out from behind, denying you connection as he tastes you, buries himself in your most intimate place. But you’ve done well for him, and it’s clear that you’ll take what he gives you at any cost. Roman watches you with hooded eyelids, offering you that connection as he brings his face to your center, licking a thick stripe up your cunt. Call it his soft spot.

“Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.”

Roman dives back into you, and you hesitate before reaching for his scalp. Tentatively, you do it anyway, just to see if he’ll react. He might smack your hands away, maybe he’ll place them down on the bed. You’re sure he won’t hold them.

He lets your hands linger. Your fingers tug on those sleek strands of hair as he eats you, his scruff chafing your thighs. His eyes alternate between fluttering shut and peering up at you as dips his tongue into your entrance, licking his spend from your folds. He brings a hand to your cunt, two of his fingers pushing into your heat as his tongue dances circles around your clit. He’ll never tell you how sweet you taste on his lips.

“Yes, oh god, Roman.” He’s kissing your cunt, lapping at your folds, his tongue teasing all of that sensitive flesh. His fingers curl inside you at the same time he sucks your clit between his lips, making you writhe for him. “Right there, Roman.”

You’re not sure if he’s indulging himself or you at this moment. He eats you like a man starved, he eats you like it's his artwork. Nipping at your folds, his fingers inside you never once faltering their movements. You grind against his mouth as his tongue flicks and swirls. After all that’s taken place tonight, it doesn’t take you long to come. You bite down on your moans as pleasure washes over you, and you come on Roman’s tongue, gushing into the palm of his hand. When he’s ensured that he’s milked you entirely, he pulls away and takes his place back on his side of the invisible line.

Roman had wondered if - once in bed - would you cling to him or turn away, but he doesn’t allow you that choice. Instead, he takes your wrist between his fingers as he turns away, curling on his side, effectively wrapping your body to spoon around his. He keeps your arm secured firm under his, tucked around his torso. Tender Roman. You’re on edge, he’s been relatively quiet this whole time, and you’re expecting some snarky comment or a vulgar insult. “I swear to god, I will smother you with my fucking pillow if you snore,” is all he says. His threat, albeit baseless, comforts you.

Tagging some folks I think may be interested? I posted a few weeks ago about writing Roman and he’s finally here!Those of you that engaged with that post plus some other friends, I hope you check this out. If you want me to remove your tag, lmk 🩷 @ievutebebe @notjustjavierpena @dorims @molt3ngold @sweetenerobert @tightjeansjavi @i-smoke-chapstick @w73n @lilipads @annoyingtheoristcloud @meyelowe @I-ange-maudit @val1821 @ladygrey03 @mommymilkers0526 @motions1ckness @wellthisisjustridiculous @marytudorr @yangyangsbitch @trexwithwings-blog @ay3mily @brooklynb8by @cru3lfools @apocolyqse @foreverasleep717 @anyukadfasza @clocksonthewall79 @dumb--blonde @littlevenicebitch69 @mads198-9 @yazsos @smokietaylor

#roman roy smut #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #succession #succession fic #succession x reader #strang3lov3

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yournowheregirl · 1 year

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my mind’s been stuck on secret dolly parton fan southern!eddie and suddenly it sprouted 2k of fic so uhhh here ya go? more to follow! (unbeta’d btw) [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 1: jolene

He might not look it, but deep down, hidden beneath the leather jackets and silver chains, Eddie Munson is a good old-fashioned southern boy. If you heard his uncle talk, you’d know he’s not from around Hawkins, but Eddie has mostly hidden his roots over the years. He had traded in his faded blue jeans for ripped black ones, his momma’s country vinyls were hidden away and replaced by heavy metal tapes and his drawl only comes out when he’s drunk out of his mind, calling everyone darlin’ and sweet pea.

He misses Tennessee sometimes, though he doesn’t remember much. He misses the warmth of the people and the sunshine, he misses the cornbread his old neighbor Mrs. Carter used to make, but he mostly misses his mom. Misses her laugh and the way she tucked him into bed with a song every night, always with the same Dolly Parton song.

Maybe that’s why he always reaches out to Dolly when he’s feeling down in the dumps.

And all because of Steve motherfuckin’ Harrington.

He doesn’t really know when it started exactly. Maybe it was back in high school, when Steve just filled out those gym shorts way too nicely. Maybe it was that summer when Eddie kept wandering through Starcourt Mall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Steve in that damn sailor outfit. Maybe it was going through hell and back and somehow coming out alive, matching demobat scars and all.

He doesn’t know when, all he knows he’s halfway in love with Steve and it’s frustrating to say the least.

Frustrating because he and Steve are somehow friends now and friends apparently talk each other’s ears off about their respective love lives. Including Steve’s endless supply of flirtations with girls at Family Video, just like today.

Steve’s been sweet talking some girl named Emily for the past twenty minutes now, really laying it on thick. Telling her how nice this shirt looks on her, how pretty her eyes look, how she really should find someone to watch Sixteen Candles with. Eddie turns away so that Steve won’t see the way his eyes roll at yet another one of Emily’s adorable little giggles.

It’s not even justified, the nasty feeling in his stomach, the green snake of jealousy that slithers around his throat. It’s not like Steve is actually his. He’s just Eddie's friend. Eddie’s great, very straight, very much ladies’ man, friend. So Eddie keeps his mouth shut, grips his copy of The Thing a little tighter and pushes that feeling way deep down as the bell dings and Emily disappears through the door.

“Ha! Harrington’s back, baby!” Steve exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“What are we celebrating?” Eddie asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Got a date this Friday.” Steve grins. He wiggles a piece of paper in between his fingers, probably with Emily’s phone number scribbled on it.

“Nice.” Eddie says with a tight smile, hoping to God that Steve’s still too smitten to notice the way his body has gone all rigid.

“Yeah, she’s pretty nice isn’t she?” Steve sighs happily. “Just hope she’s the one, y’know? I’m so tired of all those first dates, asking about each other’s siblings and favorite colors and I just… yeah, I just hope she’ll be the one.”

“Rooting for you, man.” Eddie says and oh my God, what kind of bro talk is that? Eddie wants to kick himself, but he just looks away instead, dropping the VHS on the counter.

“Thanks!”

And he just looks so happy. His eyes glistening with hope, his lips (oh god his lips) turned into a victorious smile, his entire body just exuding confidence. Eddie really shouldn’t be mad at him, not when he looks like that.

Instead Eddie spends the entire drive back to the trailer park fuming and thinking of little miss ‘I-Hope-She’s-The-One’ Emily. Now, his momma raised him to be a gentleman but that vicious snake that made itself home in his stomach makes him want set fire to Emily’s stupidly perfect pleaded skirts.

He’s so pissed off that he misses the exit that leads to Forest Hill, and instead he just keeps on driving. Past the luxurious villas, past the wide open fields, past the Leaving Hawkins sign. He doesn’t know where he’s going exactly, he just knows he has to leave.

He only stops when it starts to turn dark outside and he spots a few warm lamps just on the side of the road. After closer inspection, it turns out to be a roadside bar, hidden away beneath some trees. Eddie’s stomach rumbles and he realizes that he hadn’t eaten since noon, so he parks the van and walks towards the bar, aptly named Off-Road.

Once Eddie steps inside, it’s like he’s suddenly back in Tennessee. He’s seeing men in flannel, shooting whiskey at the bar. Women in plaid dresses, dancing along to some honky-tonk song that’s playing on the radio. The wall decorated with all kinds of things that just scream Americana, old-faded photos of farms, a row of cowboy hats, an acoustic guitar on the wall.

He can’t believe what he's seeing, so he almost stumbles over his own feet as he makes his way to the bar.

“Hiya kid. What can I get ya?”

Eddie looks up to see a small, but buff woman standing behind the bar. Her silver hair is cropped short and pulled back by a red bandana and the tassels on her leather vest swivel as she cleans a glass with a dishrag.

“Uh, just a Coke, I guess?” Eddie says. “Do you also serve food?”

“Yeah, mac ’n cheese’s on the menu today.” The woman smiles, busying herself with finding a bottle of coke beneath the counter. “What’s your name kid? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Eddie.”

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie. My name’s Pat.” Her voice is low and silky smooth, with the southern twang Eddie only hears when his uncle talks. “You from around here?”

“Hawkins.” Eddie nods. “But originally from Tennessee.”

Pat’s face lights up. “No way! Me too! Small world.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Eddie says. “Pat, can I ask… what is this place?”

“Oh this ol’ place?” Pat laughs. “This is just a lil’ home away from home. I’ve moved here for Tish, she’s the one in the green dress over there.” She waves towards the other side of the bar, where a woman with dark curls is scrubbing one of the tables. “But I’ve always missed home, y’know? So, we started this place a couple of years ago,

“You and Tish are…” Eddie trails off, not sure if he’s put the right puzzle pieces together.

“Tish is my partner, yes.” Pat’s smile fades and gets replaced with a stern look. “You got a problem with that kid?”

“No!” Eddie says quickly, waving his hands in protest. “No, not at all. I’m… I’m also gay, y’know.”

“Tish!” Pat calls out, smiling when Tish looks up. “We got another one!”

“Stop adopting gay kids, Pat!” Tish calls back. “We’re running out of rooms!”

Eddie laughs. He’s gonna like it here.

-xxx-

After Pat’s absolutely heavenly mac ’n cheese, Eddie finds himself relax more and more and for the first time, he lets out his accent without any alcohol in his system. It’s not like anyone will make fun of him for it here, he thinks that Pat probably would encourage him to be as southern as he can be.

He chats with Pat and Tish and some of the other patrons as the time ticks by. Swapping stories about back down south, laughing at things the people here in Indiana just don’t understand, Eddie’s never felt more at home.

Tish suddenly excuses herself as the bluegrass music on the speakers fades away. Eddie watches as she walks to the little podium in the far back of the bar and announces that the open mic night has begun and that anyone can join. An older man immediately jumps up and grabs the guitar off the wall and starts playing a song that Eddie vaguely remembers from back home.

“D’you play, kid?” Pat asks. “You look like you play.”

“Yeah, guitar.” Eddie replies. “Not like this though.”

“I figured.” Pat snorts. “You don’t really seem like the Willie Nelson type. But you’re welcome to step up and play us something.”

Eddie hesitates. Pat’s right, the music he normally plays doesn’t really fit in here. This is not the Hideout, this is not the place for screaming bloody murder about the injustices of the world and headbang while Gareth smashes the drums.

Still, he’s feeling strangely drawn to the podium, especially when his mind provides him with a reminder why he drove away from Hawkins in the first place: Steve and perfect little Emily. And suddenly, he knows exactly what song to play.

“Wish me luck.” Eddie grins at Pat as he stands up from his seat.

“Break a leg, Eddie.” Pat winks and shoots him an encouraging smile.

Eddie makes his way to the other side of the bar, patiently waiting until the older man finishes his song and whooping with excitement once he plays the final chord. The older man smiles at him, grateful, and hands the guitar over to him as Eddie sits down on the stool in front of the microphone.

“Uh, good evenin’ everyone.” Eddie says into the microphone. “It’s my first time here, actually and I, uh, I don’t even know if I can play this song, but let’s try, shall we?”

The room is eerily quiet as Eddie tries to remember the chords from so long ago, the chords his momma used to play on warm summer days in their backyard.

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene… I’m beggin’ of ya, please don’t take my man.”

The words feel foreign and yet strangely familiar in his mouth. It’s been so long since he heard this song, but the words just flow out of him easily

“He talks about you in his sleep and there’s nothing I can do to keep from cryin’ when he calls your name, Jolene.” Eddie’s voice is soft, softer than it’s ever been as he tries so hard to push away the images of Steve and Emily, happily together. “And I can easily understand how you could easily take my man. But you don’t know what he means to me, Jolene.”

It feels good, cathartic even, to sing this song. Maybe even better than screaming along to Metallica’s latest album. Not that he’ll ever admit that to anyone, but it’s the truth. There’s no other song right now that understands exactly what he’s going through, that says the things that he wants to say but can’t, not out loud anyway.

“Please don’t take him even though you can…”

Eddie plays a few more chords until he finally lets the song fade out and the bar burst out into the applause. It’s not the biggest applause he’s ever had (apparently murder charges does wonders for forming a crowd at the Hideout), but it’s definitely in the top three of best post-performance feelings of his life. Maybe because these people just get him, maybe because he can just sing about his feelings for Steve out in the open and no one will judge him or ask any questions about it.

“You got some real talent, kid.” Pat nods as Eddie slides back onto his bar stool.“You’re welcome to come back and sing a little Dolly for us anytime.”

Eddie’s certain that he will.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #listen this is just my dolly loving brain projecting onto eddie #let my boy love country music okay???#stranger things #alice's writing adventures

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wishfulwithwine · 11 months

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top gun current fic recs

These stories i’ve been ITCHING for an update - despite the fact my own stories need an update. I know, I know - hypocrite here - but I can’t stop reading all these wonderful stories by these incredible writers! so here’s some promotion for them :)

*updated* because I posted too early...

Rooster

All Too Well by @cherrycola27

This is For Us by @uhhhhhhhhwat

Feather Light by @thatlovinfeelin

So Seductive by @jupitercomet

Change of Heart by @intoanotherworld23

Getting the Truth by @intoanotherworld23

Medicines by @seresinsweetie (both Hangman & Rooster fic)

The Curveball by @jupitercomet

Mamma Mia by @perpetuelledaydreaming (Rooster & Hangman & Bob)

I’ll Be Waiting by @novastories

Cruel Summer by @roosterbruiser (Rooster & Hangman)

The Younger Kind by @roosterforme

Batting Practice by @roosterforme

Call Sign Tennessee Whiskey by @nolita-fairytale

Hangman

Afterglow - by @cherrycola27

Invisible Smoke by @ficsilike-reblogged

What To Expect by @topguncortez

Little Wonder by @hangmans-wingman

American Made by @hangmans-wingman

Learning from the Best by @sophs-writing-nook

Minimal Losses by @ohtobeleah

Baby I’m High Octane by @laracrofted

Medicines by @seresinsweetie (both Hangman & Rooster fic)

Mamma Mia by @perpetuelledaydreaming (Rooster & Hangman & Bob)

IRIS by @ohtobeleah

Damn Those Dog Tags by @horseshoegirl

Cruel Summer by @roosterbruiser (Rooster & Hangman)

All You Had To Do Was Stay by @callsignseagull

Legacies by @justalonelyslytherin

Bob

Letters to My Lover by @bradshawsbaby

Mamma Mia by @perpetuelledaydreaming (Rooster & Hangman & Bob)

Friends Don’t by @ereardon

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quickiesgirl · 1 year

Text

Alone at Last - Joel Miller

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Dom/Sub, Vaginal Fingering, Praise Kink, Established Relationship, My Shitty Writing.

A/N: It's been a hot minute since I posted my last fic, but while writing requests I thought I'd make this little fic because I'm so in love with Joel rn. <3

“Mind pouring me a glass, cowboy?” You asked from a distance, gazing into the living room at Joel, who sat on the couch, awaiting your arrival with an open bottle of Jack Daniels.

It was a housewarming present from his brother, welcoming you into the community of Jackson, Wyoming, where you and Joel decided to settle down with Ellie.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Joel’s low southern accent melts like honey as it flows through your ears. You’ll never get used to those initial butterflies you feel when he speaks.

He swallows back the dark liquor and grabs the bottle on the coffee table, pouring you a fine glass of Tennessee whiskey. His chocolate brown eyes narrow on your body, ogling the way your hips sway in those tight, blue jeans as you walk over to him.

The tips of your fingers pulled the glass out of his hand before plopping down beside him, feeling his arm wrap around your shoulders and pull you in close, allowing you to snuggle comfortably into his side.

You hadn’t had a drop of whiskey since you were in the Boston QZ, which felt like years ago. You savored every sip of the aged liquor. Smooth with the flavor of oak and vanilla on your tastebuds. For being one of the last sold bottles, weeks before the outbreak, it was still delicious.

You rest your hand upon his thigh and take this opportunity to admire your lover. Especially the sexy salt and pepper look sprinkled in his messy hair and scruffy beard, and those adorable lines creasing by his eyes as a smile spreads across his plush lips before taking another sip.

The sight of Joel made your hips shift against the cushion and your thighs feverishly clench together. An action he can’t help but notice.

“You know, Ellie’s asleep in her room...” You say with that yearnful, needy gaze, Joel knew all too well. He couldn’t tell you the countless times you’ve given him that look, then the next minute, you were being pounded with his hand over your mouth, trying to keep you quiet.

“Oh, yeah?” His brows raise knowingly, watching you smirk as your hand moves further up his thigh. “Mm huh, and I think you know what that means.”

“Oh, I bet I do, sweetheart,” Joel mutters, leaning in slowly and meeting his soft lips to yours. You carefully set the glasses aside and lay your hands against his clothed chest, fingers gripping at the fabric material of his button-up. Warmth consumes your body as you hungrily push deeper into the intimate kiss.

“C’mere, honey.” His thick, calloused hand pats his upper thigh and offers you a seat, which you immediately take, grabbing ahold of his shoulders and straddling his lap.

Joel’s warm breath tickles your inner neck as he moves in close and suckles your sweet spots between hot, sensual kisses while undoing the buttons of your flannel shirt till your tits are exposed.

“Fuck, baby.” He sighs, hands gliding along your body and up your curves, caressing your soft, supple skin, sending shivers of lust down your spine. His hands reach up, cupping your bare breasts in either hand and massaging them gently, feeling your nipples harden against his cool skin.

Your fingers run through his hair, gently tugging as you roll your hips into the prominent bulge beneath you, putting pressure upon your labia, attempting to relieve the ache between your thighs. You bite at your bottom lip, shutting up all the needy whimpers you wanted to let out at that moment to not wake Ellie.

“I’m gonna make this sweet, little pussy feel so damn good,” Joel whispers in your ear, feeling the heat radiating off your clothed cunt against his thigh as he reaches down and pulls at the zipper of your jeans.

A shiver shoots through your body, watching him slip into the waistband of your pretty black panties and begin gliding his fingers through your lips.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet.” He groans, circling your entrance with his calloused fingertips before slipping two digits into your tight pussy.

Your bottom lip parts from your top, and a pretty pornographic moan escapes your mouth. Joel's fingers are much thicker than your own, becoming coated with your juices as they slide along your inner walls, and swirl themselves in a clockwise motion.

Keeping that rhythm for a moment before his strong fingers curl forward against the rough patch of your upper wall, simulating your g-spot, making your hips buck at the sensation, your bushy mound filling the palm of his hand.

“Oh, J-Joel-” You moan breathily, a coil tightening in your stomach and pussy gripping around him. All your nerves suddenly set to fire as your mind enters a lustful haze, only able to focus on the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

Joel's heavy cock strains against the rough material of his jeans, and eyes dance over every inch of your body, like how your bosom was heaving in that thin flannel and how your thighs practically vibrated around his. The sound of your wet pussy and sweet moans was music to your ears.

“That’s it, baby, you’re takin’ me so well~”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, moaning loudly as his thumb moves up and makes lazy circles around your swollen clit, which throbbed beneath the pad of his thumb. Your walls contract around him. The tension grew greater, ready to snap at any second. “J-Joel, I’m so close!”

“C’mon, sweetheart, cum all over my fingers.”

That was all you needed to hear to send you crying out in pleasure, orgasmic shockwaves gripping your body as your toes curl in your heavy boots and thighs shudder til they are weak.

Arousal gushes across his thick fingers, whispering sweet praises in your ear, working you through your powerful orgasm before you’re so sensitive and dazed that your head lulls forward, resting upon his shoulder.

A smile spreads across your lips as you feel your lover's fingers remove themselves from your fluttering cunt, and instead slip them into his mouth, suckling off your sweet juices.

You press a couple of kisses along his scruffy jawline and snake your hand down, palming the large, protruding tent in his pants. Joel moans softly, messy hair pressing into the wall behind him as his dick twitches in your grasp.

You shift off his lap and kneel between his spread legs, eyes gazing up into his so sensually as you begin undoing his jeans, “Let me take care of you.”

Taglist Form | Message if you want to be removed <3

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller hbo #joel miller series #joel miller pedro pascal #ellie williams #ellie williams bella ramsey #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #quickiesgirl writing

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gingerjolover · 7 months

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going to need a blurb or mini fic of moments where juliens slight accent slips cause it’s the hottest thing

oh boy this is gonna send me to the MOON

i have two main theories but i am open to discussion and am willing to write a longer fic about this because the southern twang can not be contained

Julien's accent comes out in two scenarios, hella sleepy or hella horny. we've all heard it occasionally on stage, but i think it's when she's talking really fast or really slow that you notice it and it's never like very drastic unless she's playing it up

like you're laying in bed, it's super late, y'all were busy all day just cleaning the house and taking the dogs to the vet, she made dinner, maybe you baked something, and after a long bath, both of you are just stoked to be cuddled up in bed together. Your legs are intertwined, her boxers are crumpled and her hand is under your shirt, you're both watching tv and she rolls over into your neck, her lips attaching to your skin, sucking softly, "so warm’n soft pretty girl," in the most country ass accent you've heard from her. you can't help but giggle. she just lifts her head out of your neck and hovers over you, "what?" with her little twang, and you're pushing her hair back, rubbing her cheeks just shaking your head because she's so. cute. she huffs annoyed because she knows you're laughing at her but a sleepy smirk crosses her face before she just lifts your shirt and dives in.

I think this is a similar scenario but she's waking up, her hands rubbing all over you, kissing anywhere her lips can reach with her eyes still closed, she's like half asleep trying to push your pajama bottoms down. "Mornin’ princess," she mumbles in a thick tennessee accent.

horny!julien would lean into, okay? i mean full like "save a horse, ride me instead" vibes, like you're getting home from dinner or an event and you both are giggly, just drunk on each other. She has you pushed up against the front door, her hands literally down your pants, her fingers rubbing your clit as she's licking up your neck, "so wet sweet girl, you gon' be good for me, huh?" she's mumbling in a raspy voice, her accent thick and heavy against your neck, slipping two fingers inside you.

and when you get to bed, she gets you naked, leaning over you just staring at you, her eyes glazed over, "look how pretty y’are..." she breathes out, kissing your knee and moving up your thigh. She flips you over eventually, making you straddle her before grabbing your hips, "Come on princess, y’know what they say... save a horse..." just being the cheekiest little shit because she knows you drip for her accent and she uses it to her advantage.

bonus: she definitely asks while you're in the middle of literal sex, literally could be rubbing against her fully in your element and moaning, and she's like "babe...baby...go grab my cowboy hat..."

#anon cutie #julien baker x reader #julien baker blurb #boygenius #boygenius blurbs #we love julien in this house

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

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but then… Gigi

chapter one (a Big Daddy Elvis fanfic)

Summary: this is a fix-it universe to catch all the feelings I have for this man in the late 70’s. It’s gonna be my least impressive, least dramatic, very plotless, indulgently meandering and self soothing fic that fixes all things through *love* -it’s gonna be so fluffy we might as well cure cancer and invent time travel while we are at it. That being so, and after all the joy that has come from y’all’s interactive prompts and suggestions with Sarge, I welcome any suggestions or prompts y’all might have as this universe expands. I hope you enjoy and this can provide a sweet little escape 🌷💋

Warnings: 18+ this universe is and will be mature due to sexual themes and drug mentions. In this chapter there are discussions about attractiveness, hinted unwanted advances in the past, some mild possible objectification, talking of weight gain and sugar babies, female masturbation with non orthodox self pleasure tools (and cherry coke didn’t come out for another two years shhh)

Special thanks to: my sugar babies @stylespresleyhearted whose pure hearted love for this concept is responsible for its very existence in the first place and her co-conspirator @eliseinmemphis . And as always, to my discord wives who forever back up all my endeavors and fuel my fire @ab4eva @elvisabutler @butlersxbirdy

Circa: early summer 1977, Memphis Tennessee

Word count: an astoundingly moderate 5k

There is a set and type of girls most likely to catch the eye of the most internationally famed rock star on the planet, and it isn’t self pity or self deprecation that makes Gigi acknowledge that she doesn’t quite fit that type. She considers it good fortune enough to run in circles that boast a number of the brazen, flirty and seemingly fearless young sort who can traipse up to Elvis Presley’s sleek Stutz window and, bending themselves over an unnecessary but effectively exposing amount, extract from him a cheeky invitation to a Graceland party.

Elvis is fond of this type, their vivacity and their audacity, even their ceaseless giggles and yes, the availability they clothe themselves with. They remind him of those girls who’d nearly break down his motel door in the early years. The ones that used to scare him shitless even as he fell prey to their perfume and painted lips, their milky soft hands sporting red hot talons that often as not hooked him down to hell with them.

As of late, he finds himself accepting any damn company he can get, after months of pushing company away. It’s a cycle and when he’s fresh outta reclusion he finds he’s probably a little liberal with the invites but it doesn’t matter. He’s still relieved and gratified that he is wanted and loved enough by his fellow Memphians that they’ll accost him on the street, lean into his window, all bubblegum and boobs, and ask for autographs and if he’s interested in some company.

He may be slowing down here lately, as his body and mind and the newspapers remind him constantly, but pretty young things are still one of life’s sweet pleasures, and even if he can’t give as much as he used to, at this rate he’s glad for anyone who’ll drag him out of the slump. Even if he’s more of a museum sort of attraction for them than the living wonder they once claimed he was. Maybe it’s this morbid understanding of these little floozie’s motivations that has him grinning along and offering a free invite for game night, all the while glancing past them to where she stands at a distance behind the giggling gaggle. Her limbs are strong but soft, her face beguiling yet oh so innocent and her posture is leant forward in unscripted eagerness to maybe catch a glimpse of him past her gaggle of friends. She has her hands clasped nervously in front of her -unconsciously highlighting the way the wind whips her thin sundress between her thighs and outlines her perfectly- and it’s adorable the way her sensible keds are scuffing the sidewalk rhythmically until she feel his gaze on her.

The minute Gigi senses his authoritative assessment of her over those tinted shades, her pretty little brain makes her snap to attention, aimless for a minute before falling back on ingrained rules of conduct. She has no seductive artifice, no hip cock or calculated smirk. Gone is the sneaker scuffing and the lip chewing and instead her back snaps straight up like a debutant, feet planted, hands unclasping, shoulders back and tits forward. Elvis thinks her mother, if she’s got one, would be very proud of her social graces. Personally, he is very admiring of those pert nipples straining the cloth, and proud of the eager tremble rustling her in the summer breeze just by a flick of his eyes over her fresh baked womanhood. But maybe it’s the red hot blush under the afternoon sun and the hesitant but almost giddy little wave she gives him that cements the fond flutter he feels in chest into a raging affection.

Falling in affection for a stranger is stupid, dumb and terribly risky. And not at all likely to be requited in the way he craves so badly these days. He knows this, it’s happened before. It’s best to stick to the gals who’ll fawn over his car window and maybe dance together for him later on. But golly, wouldn’t it be nice to pat a cheek that fresh and watch it turn rosier under an ole man’s admiration?

He pulls his cigar out to smile at her, because she deserves a full lipped, white teeth gleaming smile -his ole moneymaker. It still has its intended effect, it makes Gigi beam and her waving little hand clench in excitement. She even does a little bunny hop in place and the way the glorious young shape of her bounces under the demure sundress is all kinds of tonic to a tired fella’s heart.

It’s a lot to take, the way this certified legend ducks and peers past her gaggle of friends at his window to give her not only his attention but that most delightful of grins. The one that is deceptively bashful over being so admired. Gigi would be a pants on fire liar if she didn’t admit that she’s watched enough footage and poured over enough magazine spreads of the man through the eras to nearly swoon under the real life shimmer of it.

And she knows, vaguely, that she’s acting air headed in the way she trembles and bounces but that’s all she’s got, these natural responses, never was good at faking much of anything she feels, and certainly not when she was decidedly embarrassed. Which she was now -what with the way his smile is boyishly fond, his demeanor fatherly and his eyes lewdly assessing. There’s not a bit of the masculine spectrum he isn’t embodying at this moment and her body betrays her by submissively tremoring under his gaze alone. What would a touch be like?

Such slack mouthed, nipple tingling, body electrifying thoughts get interrupted when the myth himself points a bejeweled finger at her -one that is slender and lean and elegant in contrast to the bulk burdening the rest of him- and asks in a meltingly soft voice:

“You any good at charades, sweet cheeks?”

Even if she were terrible at the game, even if she didn’t know how to play it at all, the hopeful raise of his eyebrows would make her lie, hand on the Bible to this Hollywood trained actor, that she was the best charade player the world has ever seen. Her reply in the affirmative is overly confident due to sheer nerves and eagerness, and she vigorously bobs her head to add unneeded emphasis. It makes her beauty queen friends giggle and laugh good naturedly and to his relief she joins in, a hand flying up in humiliation to shut that glossy, pink mouth.

It’s so clumsy and natural a reaction that Elvis’ pointed finger twitches from a desire to tickle her, to watch her writhe from something besides embarrassment. He mourns that she’s standing so far from the window. At least the distance has given him a good view of her from the top of her shiny widdle head to the sole of her itty bitty footsies.

Plans are made at the window, Lamar is to send a car and apparently the lot of them will all be at Dinah’s house for pickup and Gigi tries to get a little closer to overhear these details but the crowd of girlfriends is a few bodies deep and there’s fans gathering, too. So she learns the logistics later, when everyone has finished homework and shifts and are primping in Dinah’s upstairs bedroom, hairspray and nail polish fumes thick in the air, and voices nearly hysterical in pitch from excitement.

-It worked! It worked! It worked! We are going to party at Graceland! Elvis Presley invited us to spend the evening!-

There’s a lot of different reasons for excitement, some of the girls are just curious to see the icon’s home, some are talking of how envious their older sisters (even some mothers) will be over them meeting their crush, others are hoping the scene is as debauched as the rumors would have the world believe, an opportunity to taste drugs and that rock n roll lifestyle for a brief shining evening. Marie asks if they think he’ll make them do naughty, dirty, sexy things for him and that brings up fresh tittering and salacious hearsay regarding his appetites and tastes. Someone deflates that mood by saying that he might just be a dirty old man now, it’s not quite the same as going to his house a few years ago. At forty years old he’s ancient to them. What with his declining health and being a recluse and -what if he lures girls and then murders them? Oh god, the urban legends come out, he’s a vampire, he’s a serial killer, he’s this and he’s that and-

Gigi thinks he’s awfully generous. That’s what she thinks. Inviting strangers into his home. And not just pretty young things. She personally knows folks who he’s helped, the downtrodden and the dehoused and the disadvantaged. She’s grown up in churches and schools and municipalities he’s funded. He practically provided for her and all of Memphis like an omniscient father figure these past three decades. And now there’s this kindhearted invite which most seem to consider akin to a ticket to a Carnival.

As she lets the girls fluff her hair and spritz her in perfume, adding an extra coat of mascara to her lashes -stultifying her if she’s being honest- she gives a brief thought to whether, just maybe, this will be a decadent night after all.

Elvis is still Elvis. It can’t be all hearsay. And for someone like her, who’s been a good student and a decent worker and hasn’t gone chasing every wicked, back alley experience available in Memphis, she frets a little that maybe inside that iconic mansion tonight she’ll lose something that’s been preserved so far.

Innocence? Maybe. But she thinks her greatest concern is that maybe he’ll prove to be something less warm and darling and extraordinary than that brief exchange on the sidewalk and years of idolizing have convinced her that he is. All this talk of him that floats around her makes her feel faintly ill, the morbid curiosity and the vulgar interest. No wonder he secludes himself.

The car arrives, decadent and alluring like its owner, and driving it is one of the many trusted minions of the king. There might not be seatbelts for every girl here but that doesn’t seem to matter, Gigi happily offers up her lap to Tammy and teases her that Tammy is her safety belt and Gigi is her booster seat. It’s a jolly ride, banter being made with the front seat fella who’s name she has to ask for about five times before Tammy takes pity and informs her he’s “George Klein”. Gigi gets a schooling in the back seat about his radio show and once again Gigi is reminded why Tammy is ‘Miss Memphis’ and she’s not. The babble of voices calms down long enough for Mr. Klein to lay down some ground rules before the car pulls through the gates.

The rules are shockingly normal: stay downstairs, make yourselves at home and but don’t behave like asses, don’t shy away from approaching your host, the last thing he likes is awkwardness or standoffish coolness in his own home. Gigi is rather certain that with her nerves and hero adoration she can manage not being stuck up or acting above it all, but she’s not at all sure she’s gonna manage to not be as awkward as a newborn duckling.

Graceland through the gates is not an unfamiliar sight to most of them, but Graceland up close, caressed in the inky dark of night from inside by golden fingertips of light, is magical. As is the atmosphere inside the place, though that may be more a case of her knowing where she was, rather than anything particularly incredible occurring in the opulent space. Despite the change of clothes to a slinky little number and the fluffed blowout that her more cultured friends gave her in consideration of the evening, Gigi can’t help but feel underdressed for a night in this gaudy Antebellum Establishment. Extra mascara and expensive perfume feels inadequate to match the gold and crimson and white furnishings. If Belle Watling had a home, Gigi reckons it would look rather like this.

That old worry returns that tonight might devolve into being the most debauched of her young life, that maybe she’s stepped into a hospitable bordello, so exotic and seductive are the furnishings alone. But to her surprise, seated on crimson curved couches, and already heatedly invested in a game of charades, is a friendly looking group of men and their wives. They have to be wives, the Mafia’s wives -they look so respectable, so relaxed lounging in Elvis’ Presley’s home. There’s differing ages here, middle and younger and all in between, and a man she’s rather certain is Elvis’ own father. It’s respectable, to her immense relief and confusion.

“Ah, here comes the fresh young blood!” One of the group says and it’s a bit chaotic then, half the group invested in keeping up the game and the other set rather eager to abandon their losing streak to offer welcomes and refreshment.

She lets the bodies swirl around her, a strange feeling of being a little left out taking over her without a single rudeness on the part of anyone present justifying the feeling. It irks her that she's so skittish, it just seems that everyone somehow falls in with another or ten and the established groups begin games or snacking or talking without her and she stands alone in the human eddy watching it all happen so effortlessly.

What’s entirely unexpected a half hour or more into this friendly pandemonium is a playful tap on her shoulder and turning round to find their host himself, clad in a comfy tracksuit, unzipped sufficiently low to display a devout amount of crosses shimmering on sweat slick skin and wearing shades even indoors. He’s asking if she’d like a drink.

“Oh -Elvis!” is a stupid thing to say in reply to his felicitations but it’s all Gigi can manage in such close proximity to his warm smile, his unzipped jacket and his heady scent. He looks her over, taking in the way her friends have erased the fresh faced ingenue on the sidewalk and made her into a sex doll and it takes supreme self discipline to not reach out and wipe some of it off. His scrutiny is making her nervous but she does at last manage to scramble out, “Yes, thank you, Mr. Presley, that would be lovely -it’s lovely of you to have us and your home is so unbelievably lovely, and I can’t believe we’re here, I’ve admired you for so long and -I, I’m only 20 and can’t drink.”

The word vomit robs her of breath and Gigi sucks it back in with a painful wince -she just declined a drink and proclaimed herself a complete goody two shoes, a perfect square, to the King himself. Her face flames hot and the heavy coating of lashes flutters from eye watering embarrassment.

Elvis just tilts his head to the side and gives her sweet face the appreciative study of a blush connoisseur, his grin growing impossibly wider and a little wolfish,

“Well, darlin, I’m a lil over 21 but I don’t drink ‘neither.”

“Really?” Ggi ventures in utter surprise, and that must’ve been redeeming on her part as his smile shifts from wolfish to fond before giving a tight nod,

“I was offerin’ lemonade, or sweet tea, but I think-“ and here he steps back, surveying her head to toe in the gauzy halter dress her friends snazzed her up in, “I think, yeah, yeah, ‘think you’re a cherry coke kinda girl.”

“I’m whatever you say, sir!” Gigi salutes him like a idiot because she’s had never had a cherry coke in her life or been assessed by a powerful man and she is quickly forgetting to be shy when so bewildered by his heavy lidded assessment-

“Yeah,” he nods, satisfied after another survey of the god crafted entirety of her, “Cherry coke for you, I think, lil Miss.”

He doesn’t fetch it, someone else in this crowded place does and it comes with the ordered white straw and she sips the carbonated beverage with a bashful smile, trying to think of something sensible to say in thanks when being looked at like that by the man who having fulfilled his host duties slowly moves away to recline in a decadent crimson armchair.

“Go on now, you’re here to have some fun, sweet cheeks.” he waves her down to the floor where many others are sprawled writing dares and acts, and she settles where he directs her, right by his leg until it’s her turn.

Once she moves to the mantle and acts out her turn, once it’s successfully guessed, she’s a little at a loss as to where to go. It feels presumptive somehow to sit by him again. So she sits by Dee instead, and feels a fool five seconds later, knowing it’s just nerves and shyness keeping her from a chance at sitting by such an extraordinary hero for what’s probably the best night of her life.

Ever.

Gigi wouldn’t get this chance again and yet she decided to act like an awkward idiot for fear of acting like a -what? Cling on? Groupie? It was just his leg, his beefy, muscled, thick leg beside her, and the heat of his body and the little noises of amusement coming from him. But it made her feel like she was burning up inside, it felt intimate, it felt like she should be between those legs and surrounded by his bulk. Like between his thighs would be the cleft in the rock to hide from this vast world that she’d been looking for all her life.

He was just domestic and kind, and she had to make it weird. Tammy’s unimpressed eye roll at her doesn't help matters. Soon the left side of Gigi’s face begins to burn and out of desperation she finally turns to face Elvis and finds him staring straight at her, her abandoned, half-drunk cola being jostled in his hand like a carrot for a horse. His eyebrow beckons, she blushes harder, he keeps shaking the damn thing and ducking his head with that coaxing grin. She rises and crouches through the partiers and moves back to her place at his feet.

“Here ya go.” he says mildly as she settles, nothing mentioned of the command and obedience just enacted.

He just gives Gigi her coke back, his rings clanking on the glass and fingers brushing hers during the handover. She chokes on her next sip when he pats the top of her head. Fatherly, if her father had ever been one for pats and noticing her existence. Unfettered, Elvis’ hand slides down the glossy brushed out length of her hair, to pat her back as she gasps out her shock, somehow making things worse but oh so lovely. She dares to lean back into that caressing hand, finds herself leaning against his leg by proxy, finding herself lulled and squirmy all at once.

Charades at Elvis Presley’s house are very much the same as at anyone else’s, and strangely Gigi finds that simultaneously the most bizarre and adorable thing imaginable. There is, however, a good deal more betting and hollering than would be permissible in most households, and she finds herself enacting dubious scenes with a shockingly plentiful array of cousins and fellow guests, but altogether it’s wholesome and lively and joyous. It seems a bit rigged when Tammy, fresh off winning Miss Memphis, has to enact the white dress subway scene of Marylin Monroe -made snort worthy humorous when an ancient creature, who Gigi has on good cousinly authority is Elvis’ grandmother, provides the wind to blow up Tammy’s flimsy excuse of a dress to her upper thighs. Flashing panties as is the iconic scene.

In a weak moment Gigi tilts her head to see Elvis’ reaction to her friend's beauty, and she doesn't miss the way he guffaws around his cigar at the sight of those award winning stems. Though she doubts it’s his first sight of them, they’ve been plastered all over TV and newspapers ever since Tammy won the damn thing a few months ago. Best body and face in the state. Gigi’s primped up face and heavy coated lashes and gauzy dress suddenly feel like an attempt to mimic something she wasn’t cut out for. Self consciously she tugs at the hem of the short skirt.

Tammy flashes Elvis a wink and shimmies in a mouth watering tease before sitting opposite the two of them, legs crossed and hardly a bit left to the imagination.

Elvis keeps grinning. Tammy licks her lips. Gigi finishes her coke and vaguely recalls the fact that the man is supposedly dating one of Tammy’s rivals from the pageant, or a sister of or a- Gigi doesn’t recall really, and she can be sure that between the way he’s stroking her own sun streaked locks and eye sexing Tammy opposite, the man sure doesn't act taken.

Watching Billy Smith try to act out a cheetah giving birth takes her mind off such self pitying introspection, and before she knows it, the gaudy foyer clock is ringing out 1:00 am.

Homework and college has been running Gigi a little ragged and eventually her little head begins to droop against his leg and the way the empty coke bottle starts to slip from her weak grip catches his attention. He slowly raises his hand from where it was resting ever so lightly on her shoulder and caresses her neck. To his immense relief Gigi leans into his patting eager as a housecat, and it makes him glad. Just as much as it makes him worry.

Only twenty years old and so easily lulled.

“You got a curfew, lil one?” he asks her with concern and that startles Gigi, his warm breath hot against her ear and the grunt of him folding himself over his sizable belly to get down near her face.

“No sir. Not really.” She admits, overly respectful in her sleepy state, “My parents aren’t really into stuff like that. They are pretty liberal that way. And I live with Tammy.”

She gives him an assuring smile even as she stifles a yawn, and two things flash across his mind. This means he (or God forbid, any man) could have her over here at his whim without excuses being made. And secondly, Elvis really must look out for her so that she doesn’t fall into the company of any such other men.

There’s no precedent for a Graceland party to wind down before dawn, but he considerately asks her if she’s got classes tomorrow. The honest way Gigi nods her droopy head and moans “yeah” has his heart clenching and his fingers flex, he wants to put her to bed. His bed, he thinks, though that’s a rather dastardly thought. Really though, he’d like to wrap himself around her and hold her and tell her he’d care very much whether or not she came home late from a stranger's house. That he’d be worried sick about so sweet and darling a little treasure if she were his. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that he’ll care no matter what, his or no.

Instead, he interrupts the game to have Lamar drive her home. Tammy and a few others, noticeably the ones who look like all night partiers, stay longer.

Gigi gets another pat on the head and a commendation to do well on her grades and that’s that.

Gigi last sees him standing in his foyer, jeweled chains gleaming in the nest of his chest hair and a boyish smile on his face, Dinah coming up behind to wave her farewell. Tammy is back there, too, probably going to get up to all sorts of fun while she gets sent home like a child. Wistfully, even as she walks down his drive to her ride, Gigi wishes she had hugged him goodbye. Gushed with more than just words in thanks for the invite, maybe even buried her face there in his chest, just once in that safe haven, sweat and jewels against her cheek. He had seemed to care.

But she wasn’t not that type though, was she? Brazenness was something that always felt awkward to her and landed her splat into uncomfy situations where college boys peered into the women’s locker room and jacked off to the sight of her legs as she tried to change into her track shorts.

The frenzy she often felt in her body to be touched would immediately die in situations such as having her hand clumsily moved up and down a penis in the dark of a movie theater. Or groped over her dress by the drunk jocks she tried to experiment with. Gigi could feel her own potential simmering hot and fervent inside, ready to be appreciated and let out like a fizz from a corked bottle. It was cruel that a fatherly sorta hero was the one to make her finally feel like she would take riding that man’s shoe over the most romantic gesture from one of her many age-appropriate admirers.

If she were Tammy, she wouldn’t have inspired the literal king of rock n roll to send her to bed. If she were Tammy she’d have made a move and said “damn that mythical absentee girlfriend” and would now be flat on her back getting obscenely used by that gorgeous hunk of a man.

Instead, deposited safely home by Lamar and tucked back in her shared flat, Gigi stares at her made up face with adamant animosity. It’s a fine face, she’s been told that plenty and she’s been told she’s smart, but it’s not really inviting the attention she suddenly wants so badly. Maybe she should have worn falsies to add to the effect. Maybe her features and coloring are too light. Tammy’s bleach blonde hair does not occur to her as being a strike against this logic. Instead Gigi thinks of pouring over photos of raven haired Pricilla as a girl and marveling at the thick mask Elvis crafted for her, wonders why she can’t be that kind of girl. She’s not petite, or glamorous or particularly coquettish, but she’d ride that man till he needed IV fluids if he’d just let her.

But he chose Tammy.

Dunking her face into the sink, Gigi scrubs away the artificial bloom until she’s left pink and freckled and so decidedly innocent looking it makes her wanna claw her cheeks to shreds.

“Lil one.”

The way he’d cooed it had turned her insides to jelly and ignited thoughts of her own sizable frame being made small while smothered beneath his sturdy breadth but now it turns her angry, and in the shower she lathers herself and wishes maybe her parents had given a shit about her catching a man instead of being “all she could be” because now at twenty she’s eyeing up the bulbous shape of her Lemon Up shampoo bottle and wondering if she’s big girl enough to take it. He was so big, so bulky and sturdy and muscly with padding to boot, and she’s just so sure his cock has got to match the thighs. A bulky, chubby thing, too, probably. The sort only girls like Tammy can manage.

She wants to be that sorta girl.

Gigi grabs at the bottle. She wrenches the shower handle to off, her wet body bolting for her bed, a jar of Vaseline in her other hand and savage lust in her heart. Halfway to the bed she realizes the shampoo bottle is almost empty and she wants to cry at that. She does stomp her chilled feet like a child and whines. What she needs is weight, her subconscious provides, everything about him was heavy and wonderfully big and she needs more than a hollow bottle to mimic him. She runs back to the shower and grabs at the conditioner, same ginormous shape and this time it’s fully loaded and heavy in her hand and she races back to bed, happy to dive under the covers with her dripping hair and goosefleshed skin.

Tammy has toys to achieve this, Gigi knows from sightings of them being washed in their communal bathroom sink. Pink and veiny and some that even buzz and it was all very funny and silly to come across them when she needed to wash her hands, but right now Gigi wants nothing to do with them, the stupidly large and bulky shaped conditioner bottle not even phasing her. Because it’s hers and not Tammy’s -Tammy who is probably getting railed but Elvis Presley right now. His cockhead probably isn’t shaped like the bottom of a lemon, but it’s gotta be round and this bottle will have to do.

It doesn't do. She lathers on the Vaseline to add to the sticky want she already has pooling, she rubs herself to a frenzy and as her hand cramps she tries putting the oiled up bottle up her channel and finds it’s really just impossible. It’s burns and won’t give and she berates herself and begs a man called “daddy” that she can barely admit to herself is Elvis to “give it to her” and curses Tammy for having a big vagina. She tries and tries with ever increasing anguish and frustration as the clock ticks towards three am and valuable sleeping hours are wasted as she tries to slip more than the crown of the lemon bottle into her untried cunt.

“Give it to me please, please daddy I can

take it.” Gigi insists to the shampoo bottle and her wrist manfully attempts to shove it in after slipping it along her folds for ages.

But it won’t go and she screams more and begs more and cries more and ends up seizing her stuffed valentine's bear -gifted to her by the football team's running back- and rubs herself raw in its button nose. It’s not the first time, but for once her sticky satisfaction doesn’t come to the thought of tiny white shorts ocean wet and clinging to him, or svelte white jumpsuits and chiseled jawline grinning promise. She digs her fingers into the stuffy’s fur and thinks of a hairy chest glistening with sweat and chains jingling with noisy exhales and the smell of him. Oh god the manly smell of him! - and the quiet authority that had her sitting at his feet and having her head petted and being sent home like a child. He acted like he cared for her and could find some use for her and she wets the poor bear’s muzzle at the thought of him telling her that her purpose is to keep him happy.

Worn out and trembling from her orgasm she rolls off the poor stuffed animal and buries her face in her pillow and dreams of warmth.

Outside Gigi’s door, arrested in her trip to the bathroom by shrieks of “daddy” and curses of her own name, Tammy shakes her head in disbelief and grins to herself through her whole nightly routine.

“Why were you cussing me out last night?” Tammy asks her placidly next morning, “Are you jealous of your daddy’s attention being split?”

Gigi groans at Tammy’s mischievous smile and realizes her mistake with a blush, “You didn’t- last night you came back? He didn’t keep you?”

“No, he didn’t.” Tammy agrees through her wheezing laughs and Gigi tries to aim a kick at her shins in mortification. “He was quite the gentleman in fact,” she expounds, “Except for the fact he spent the rest of our time asking me questions about you. I told him he’d lost all his raisin’ talking to a lady about another lady. Made a girl feel like a damn directory.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry.” Gigi tries to suppress her thrill enough to sympathize with a no doubt annoying event. “You must’ve felt left out.”

Tammy pauses in thought for a bit. “He’s very….sweet.” Is Tammy’s verdict and to Gigi’s incredulity she sounds a little disappointed. “I mean, didn’t you think he was just sorta, ya know, nice?” Tammy presses.

Gigi thinks of the way his hand felt stroking her hair, the care about her curfew, the lack of alcohol, the endearments, the sturdy meat of his thigh against her shoulder. All the things that had made her rub herself puffy with a shampoo bottle that is still hidden under her covers. Yes, he seemed very sweet, and she was desperately in love with a man she’d never see again, who seemed a bit bashful about being “discount bargain Elvis” when all she could think of was how nurturing and mischievous he was.

He just seemed -shy. Bizarrely enough. And she could sympathize with that. Laying here on Tammy’s bed watching the dust motes dance in the afternoon sun when she should be studying, she thinks she’s solved Elvis Presley.

He’s shy.

“I thought he was precious.” Gigi agrees with Tammy, though her tone holds a reverence that makes the beauty queen of Memphis’ head spin in a near 180 to observe her now flaming cheeks. It seems the man has that effect on Gigi, present or not.

“Well, well.” Pretty, sultry, darling Tammy hasn’t a malicious bone in her body but she takes delight in making Gigi squirm, “You sound enchanted!”

“He was sweet!” Gigi protests, using her words against her.

“Yeah, he was.” she agrees, her perfectly tweezed brows drawing together for a moment before an epiphany dawns on her, “But I think it’s a means to an end.”

“What do you mean by that?” She balks, fervent in her conviction that it wasn’t an act. In fact, Gigi was certain he was more himself in his own home last night than ever on a stage.

“It’s making sense now.” she starts to pace the room, “He’s an outrageous flirt, you saw him, flirting with everyone he wasn’t related to that night, but he was so sweet to you- hmm, I think he wants to baby you.”

“Baby me?” Gigi repeat, staring up at the ceiling and feeling that flutter in her belly, just from the idea of him having *any* design on little ole her. “What’s- what even is that?” She asks her, a little hopeful, content to get her education from Tammy on this just as she has on all the more mechanical and dynamical aspects of sex and men.

“It means turning you into his baby.” she laughs, like it’s the most obvious thing, “Would probably put a little chain round your neck saying ‘belongs to Elvis Presley’ or something, and in turn spoil you rotten. At least, that’s how it’s worked for the others. It’s what he’s trying with Ginger but she’s got an independent streak.”

Ginger. The others. Of course there had been others. And yet he was so lonely again, already so lonely she was sure of it. Lonely in his own home, what was worse than that? “I wouldn’t mind being his baby.” Gigi mutters, bashful at the fact that what was essentially a future of house arrest, a portly sugar daddy and head pats makes her shiver delightfully.

“You sure about that?” Tammy suddenly seems overly earnest for a conversation in her room on a Thursday evening about a hypothetical scenario where Elvis Presley takes an interest in Gigi.

“Yes.” She gives it the full, weighty two seconds of thought it deserves. “And if all I get out of it is polishing his guns and feeding him yogurt then I’d honestly be happier than studying political science.” She makes a face as she registers the homework currently crinkling somewhere under her lower back.

“So you get that the sex probably isn’t exactly legendary anymore, right? Like -you saw him.” only Tammy, beautiful, southern pageant winner that she is, with the manner to accompany the looks, could say such a thing without Gigi socking her.

She’s looking out for her, just as she looked out for her with the sub par debate President that Gigi went to prom with and found insufferable after two weeks. She thinks Gigi needs to just keep trying the field (like her, Gigi presumes) until she finds the magical unicorn that will blow her mind in bed and satisfy her curious brain.

At this point in life, she’d settle for a man who chooses her drinks for her and cares enough about her well being to get her home by his own, invented curfew. Maybe she wants a father, what with hers being liberal to the point of carelessness, but she’d settle for a daddy, happily. “Tammy,” she says very slowly, trying to distill all these emotions down into something convincing -because strangely she feels a dire need to convince Tammy of her devotion even in this hypothetical scenario- “Tammy, if he gave a crap about me and paid my student loans, I’m pretty sure I could get off by just watching him smile at the way I make a fool of myself. And if that wasn’t enough, then I’d rub myself raw on his hairy belly. -you get me?”

Tammy looms above her, upside down in her view with her blown out bleached hair, heavy coaled eyes and shimmery mouth, studying Gigi for a minute before bursting out laughing. “You really meant that bit about his belly, didn’t you?”

“Yup.” Gigi mutters, throat thick and heart pounding -somewhere else pounds, too- at the very thought of being that intimate with him, that nasty sticky sweet with him. “Why are we talking about this anyway?” She whines, having worked herself up enough she’s damp and actually a little heartbroken knowing that if anything, Tammy is the one he’d go for.

“I got a call from George Klein this morning.” she spins away and busies herself in the closet, rummaging for shoes, Gigi thinks.

“Oh?” She asks, trying to keep the waiver out of her voice as she sits up and watches Tammy as she digs.

“Yeah, we got invited back.” she says, and turns on her award winning haunches to raise a significant eyebrow at Gigi, “All of us. And then, it was specified, you too.” she watches Gigi’s panicked, hopeful blush coat her face and chest.

“What exactly did he say, Tammy?” she demands, forcing herself not to gnaw on her fingernails, having to remember these nails might be in Graceland by the end of the week.

“He said that ‘E.P. wants to make sure the old gang knew they were welcome again, and the invite is only contingent on “Miss cherry coke” coming’.” she sits fully back on her butt now just to fully appreciate the way Gigi hyperventilates. “Cherry coke, huh?” she teases, “Did you ask for that just to be as euphemistic as possible or do you actually favor the drink?”

“He chose it.” Gigi whimpers, scuffing her keds together because it’s either that or her thighs.

“Oh god.” Tammy sounds like some guys do when their team makes a dirty, dirty interception that ends in a touchdown, “What did I say? Baby you, he wants to baby you! Oh my god, like he’s sweet but that’s -that’s nasty honey, just know that’s a nasty little thing to do.” she insists before turning back to her closet and digging through the dozens of pairs again.

Gigi flops back on her back and tries to think of the deep seated meaning behind cherries, and fails to do more than buzz in hopeless nervous anticipation at going back to that warm and kind and slightly bizarre haven that is Elvis Presley and his home.

Hope y’all enjoyed and if you wanna be tagged let me know. I live off your screams and your pestering, y’all are each precious to me!

Xoxo 🌷 Marina

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

@vintageshanny

@landmermaid12

@ashtag2887

@notstefaniepresley

@butlersluvbot

@steph-speaks

@eliseinmemphis

@lookingforrainbows

@dkayfixates

@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

@thatbanditqueen

@elvisabutler

@butlersxbirdy

@heartbrake-hotel

@fav-fanficssss

@austinbutlersbaby

@freudianslumber

@joons

327 notes · View notes

thirstworldproblemss · 4 months

Note

Hi!

I was swimming around the FishBen tag on tumblr and saw you recced at least one FishBen fic.... do you happen to have any more? I love them

Hello, nonny!

I love FishBen tooooo!! Sadly, there is not nearly enough Frankie x Benny content out there in the world, but I'm happy to share the (smallish) list of fics I've found for them so far. (Anyone aware of Frankie x Benny content that I've missed, please jump in with recs!! Anon and I will both love you for it!! 😘)

Anyway, on to the...

FishBen Rec List

List Notes:

Fics are Sorted by pairing then alphabetically by Title

Uses AO3 Ratings: General audiences - Teen & up - Mature - Explicit

Check your Content Settings if you're 18+ and want to be able to see mature content (Settings -> scroll down to Content You See -> Community Labels -> Mature -> show)

Links sometimes misbehave on desktop–If none of the links are working, try opening in dashboard mode (click the eye-shaped button in the far top right)

Partially cribbed from my prev Frankie x Benny (x reader) ask response

Frankie x Benny (aka. Just the FishBen)

(Why is it that FishBen tends to come almost exclusively either fluffy and/or sexy OR whumpy and full or angst? Who knows, but I love it either way!!)

== Sweet and/or Sexy ==

The Beginning (ao3) by @elvenmother [FxB, get-together fic E, 2.1k, oneshot]

Inside, Upside, & Out by @midnightartemis [FxB, get-together smut, E, 3.7k, complete?]

Put Your Name On It (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [FxB, sweet & sexy, E, 2.3k, oneshot]

Put Yourself in My Place (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [FxB, bodyswap smut, E, 3.1k, oneshot]

Right on Cue (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [pre-FxB, bartender!Frankie, T, 0.4k, oneshot]

Tennessee Whiskey by @mssr-mcknickers [WxS with some FxB, cute Halloween fic, T, 1k, oneshot]

Trou de Cu (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [FxB, silly & sweet sex shenanigans, E, 0.4k, oneshot]

You Leave a Mark by @alwaysbethewest [FxB, secret relationship, M, 0.4k words, oneshot]

fishben art by @littledozerdraws (dancing, post-fight, pre-fight?, being cute & sweet) [ART: FxB, cute & sweet!]

—

== Angst / Whump ==

*be sure to read the warnings with these; things get pretty dark in some of 'em

Cry a Little by @wyn-n-tonic [FxB, hurt/comfort angst, M, 0.8k, oneshot]

fuckin' tell me by @waywaychuck [sort of pre-FxB, hurt/comfort, 0.9k, oneshot]

slippin' off the rails by @waywaychuck [FxB (implied WxS), whump & hurt/comfort, T, 4k, oneshot]

Though I Be The Last by @kesskirata [some FxB in amongst the team whump, E, 19k, 13ch as of Oct '22]

Frankie x Benny x Reader

(I know you didn't ask for this, 'nonny, but since pure FishBen is few and far between, I figured I'd add these as well, for you or anyone else who is interested)

A Helping Hand (ao3) by @dameronscopilot [Fx RxB, smutty threesome, E, 2.2k, oneshot]

Baby, how do you sleep when you lie to me? by @everyhowlmarksthedead [FxR x B, revenge? smut, E, 2,8k, oneshot]

Better Together 'verse by @absurdthirst & @wardenparker [FxRxB, E, 53k, 5 finished oneshots in an ongoing series] Fics: Better Together, Taking Care Together, Waking Up Together, Celebrating Together, Together for Christmas

Flashback (ao3) by @green-socks [FxR xB, pining & fluff, E, 0.9k, oneshot]

Heat Wave (ao3) by @thirstworldproblemss & @astroboots [FxRxB, pining pwp, E, 2.2k oneshot in a larger series]

(hold tight) everything's fine by @raincityruckus [FxR("she")xB, pining smut, E, 5.3k, part of a poly!TF series]

Just us by @ezrasbirdie [FxR xB, plus size!reader, E, 4.5k, oneshot, au in series]

Made with Love (ao3) by @thristworldproblemss [FxB (w/in FxRxB), silly hurt/comfort fluff, M, 1k, oneshot in a series]

Messy Pile of Affection (ao3) by @flightlessangelwings [Fx RxB, get-together fic, E, 12k, completed fic in an ongoing series] Series Masterlist

Moonlight 'verse (ao3) by @absurdthirst & @wardenparker [FxRxB, werewolf!Frankie, E, 32k, 2 completed fics in a series] Fics: Moonlight Madness & Full Moon Fury

Not A Competiton (But I'm Winning) (ao3) by @alwaysbethewest [FxRxB, pegging smut, E, 1.2k, oneshot]

No Thinking Over the Weekend by Jazzelsaur (only on ao3) [FxR xB, get-together smut, E, 8.0k, long oneshot]

That's all I could remember and/or find for now. Sorry it's not bigger list, 'nonny! It's really a shame Frankie x Benny stuff isn't more popular since it's such a fun pairing. Anyway, thanks for the ask, and for giving me a chance to spread the FishBen love!! 💕

🧡 twp

—

Want more to read? Check out my other Author, Fic, & Fanwork Recs

#answered asks #anon ask #frankie morales #benny miller #triple frontier #frankie x benny #frankie morales x benny miller #fishben #fic recs #fic rec list #thirstworldproblemss #twp rec list

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 6 months

Text

Tennessee Orange

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Characters: Elvis Presley, Reader, You, Original Female Character

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2407

Summary: I met somebody, he’s got blue eyes.

Tags/Warnings: Young Love, Established Relationship, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Leaving home, Baby Boy Elvis, 1950s Elvis, Comfort, Song Fic, Tennessee Orange // Megan Moroney, Idk what football teams where around in the 50s so lets just lend some artistic license to it k?

Notes: Oh to have a whirlwind romance with baby boy Elvis

This is linked to Die From A Broken Heart

ELVIS MASTERLIST // SONG LINK // HALLOWEEN MASTERLIST

I was nervous, the knots in my stomach growing tenfold with every passing second and every unanswered ring of the phone. It wasn’t that I’d been waiting long but I’d built up my nerve and it was losing momentum the longer the call went on. Not to mention how the idea of my daddy answering the phone sent me into a cold sweat.

Fortunately I didn’t have to worry much about that as when the line clicked on it was my mother's soft voice that answered, ‘hello?’

‘Mama?’ I asked.

‘Darlin’ is that you?’ she said with a smile in her voice.

‘It’s me,’ I said and though my nerves hadn’t completely vanished they dulled as I allowed the comfort that only a mother's voice could bring to wash over me.

‘Well isn’t this a surprise,’ she chuckled, ‘we figured we wouldn’t hear hide nor hair of you for a least another couple of days.’

‘I got a spare minute,’ I mumbled as my nerves amped up once more. She was right given that the moment I had touched down in Memphis my thoughts of home seemed to vanish and they probably would’ve stayed that way if I hadn't been forced to make this blasted phone call.

‘How is it going?’ she asked.

‘Good,’ I said which technically wasn’t a lie. I was having the time of my life here but that wasn’t what I had called to talk about. My mother however didn’t seem to grasp that as she continued to ask, ‘are you girls having fun?’

‘Yeah, actually-'

‘Behaving?’ she mused.

‘Yeah, Mama,’ I said attempting to get to the point only to find she once again beat me to the punch.

‘Because I won't have you putting Betty out you hear me? You’re a guest in her home-‘

‘I know,’ I said hoping I could nip whatever rant she was going to go into in the bud.

‘Because-'

‘Mama I’ve got some news,’ I said, the words tripping out of my mouth without permission though they seemed to do the trick as she fell quiet on the other end. I fell quiet too, my heart hammering in my chest as I realised that there was no way I could back out now.

‘Oh?’ she said. It wasn’t an outright question or even a statement but it was enough to know that she was waiting for whatever information I was going to lay on her.

‘Yeah,’ I said hesitantly, ‘it’s important.’

‘Oh,’ she said again and I was stunned at how she could keep her tone so even. How she could make it that I couldn’t sniff out anger or happiness alike. How she could remain unphased whilst I was sitting on the other end, knots in my stomach as well as the phone cord I had taken to twizzling around my finger the moment the call began. How she didn’t betray her feelings as I did when I rushed to say, ‘but you can't tell Daddy! Not yet anyway.’

Only then did I hear her falter, a hefty sigh escaping her lips as she asked panicked, ‘What is it? Are you okay? Oh Lord please tell me you are not in some sorta trouble.’

‘Of course not! You know you raised me right,’ I protested feeling a warmth in my cheeks at the thought of her picturing whatever mess I’d gotten into.

‘Well then, what is it?’ she asked.

‘Mama…I met someone,’ I mumbled.

‘Oh,’ she said softly and though it was nothing more than a word I could sense the emotions in it because it was one of surprise.

I didn’t blame her of course. She had sent me to spend time with my aunt and my cousins not to get involved with boys but it wasn’t as though it couldn’t happen. And suddenly my protests of her having raised me right reared their head because if she had I wouldn’t have been keeping him a secret. I wouldn’t have kept his existence in my life on the fringes. They would’ve gotten some inkling of what was coming.

‘You remember the boy from summer I told you about?’ I asked hoping that if she recalled my having mentioned him, if only once, it would make me feel less guilty.

‘Elvis? The singer guy?’ she said making my heart flutter at his mere mention, ‘the one whose concert you and June went to?’

‘That’s him,’ I agreed feeling slightly better that at least he hadn't come totally out of the blue as I carried on explaining, ‘Well, we’ve been talking and writing all the time since and well…Mama he asked me to be his girl.’

‘Well,’ she said before she paused for a moment causing my emotions to buy another ticket for the rollercoaster they were currently on until she said, ‘That’s good. What’s he like?’

‘Oh he’s amazing,’ I said, the damn finally breaking as all the happiness and love I’d been terrified of admitting to spilled out, pouring from me and down the phone line in gushing sentiments, ‘I’ve never met a boy like him before at all. He’s sweet and charming and handsome. I mean you should see his eyes, Mama, he’s got these gorgeous blue eyes I swear could hypnotise ya.’

‘Well he sounds quite the guy,’ she said in the way that mothers do. The way that makes you wonder if they’ve ever felt that way before though at some point they must’ve otherwise you wouldn’t even be here to be feeling it yourself.

‘He is,’ I said trying not to feel embarrassed by my gushing and rather to see them as an aid in making her see just how much I loved him.

‘Well I’m happy for you baby and don’t worry about your daddy, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,’ she said and for a moment I forgot about all the worries I’d had about telling her. She was happy for me. And if she was happy it would only take some cajoling from her to get daddy on board which was why I had ventured to tell her first, to lay the groundwork for any further conversations.

‘Doubt it he’s a Vols fan,’ I giggled.

‘Oh Lord help you,’ she mused.

‘I know! Actually, he took me to a game the other day, he even got me wearing that horrible orange jersey,’ I teased making her laugh.

‘So long as you don’t bother learning the words to Old Rocky Top I think your daddy will survive,’ she said.

‘I won’t,’ I promised though as her laughter died down my nerves crept back in. I’d gotten lost in the conversation, lost in getting her on board with the mere idea of Elvis that I’d forgotten that wasn’t why I was calling.

‘Mama?’ I asked earning a hum from her that signalled she was listening, ‘that’s not all.’

‘What is it?’ she asked in a voice so earnest I could picture her sweet face, plastered with confusion waiting for whatever bombshell I was about to drop. And once again I felt the need to defend myself as I rambled, ‘you gotta understand. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and I don’t think I ever will for anyone else.’

‘Baby what is it?’ she said hesitantly.

‘Well Elvis’ singing career is getting real big and he’s doin’ real well-'

‘Okay,’ she murmured.

‘Which means he’s all over the place workin’ which is why when we have seen each other I’ve always had to come to Memphis and well it's not gonna get any easier or at least it doesn’t look like it will what with him doing so well-'

‘Honey you’re rambling,’ she said stopping me in my tracks.

‘He asked me if I’d want to move here…to live with him,’ I said quietly unable to gauge any reaction before I whispered, ‘and I said yes.’

And with that she fell silent meaning that all the nerves I had alleviated with her happiness came flooding back only ten times worse. I could picture her now, trying to work out how to dash my dreams but to do it in a way that didn’t break my heart entirely. That had been why I had been scared to tell them because I worried they’d ask me not to. And I couldn’t do that because when Elvis had asked I had said yes without question and though it was a big change I knew it was what I wanted with my whole heart.

‘Oh baby I don’t know,’ my mother said quietly.

‘Mama I know it's soon but I promise you he’s a good guy. And it's not like I’d be on my own. Betty’s here in Memphis and he lives with his whole family so it’s not like it’s just us. And they're all so sweet to me you’d really like ‘em,’ I said hoping to reassure her. Hoping that if she saw that I’d thought about it thoroughly she’d see it wasn’t as bad as it sounded on paper.

‘But it's just so far and you're so young sweetheart,’ she said.

‘Not that young,’ I said feeling a pout fall on my face as though I was a kid who’d acted rashly when that wasn't the case at all. In fact, I’d been chewing on the idea for days.

‘Young enough,’ she countered and with that, I felt my sorrow turn to irritation.

‘As young as you were when you married Daddy,’ I refuted feeling immediately guilty as I realised it was a dirty move, ‘besides it ain’t like there’s much waiting for me back in Crawford.’

‘What about your family?’ she bit back making the guilt hit another level.

‘Mama don’t be like that,’ I sighed.

‘I’m not being like anything you’ve just told me you want to run away to live with a boy you barely know, one that your daddy and I haven’t even met!’ she said heatedly.

‘Well, what if you meet him?’ I said hoping the conversation wouldn’t spiral any further. I hadn't meant to hurt her with my words but I could tell that she was hurting anyway. So I tried to compromise, I tried to offer something that would make her see I was happy, ‘how about you come to Memphis and meet him and his family? I swear you'll see this is good for me I promise.’

‘Why don’t we talk about this in the morning?’ she asked cutting me off.

‘But-‘

‘Look I just some time to think about it okay? To think about what I’m gonna say to your daddy,’ she said quietly.

‘You’re saying it can happen?’ I asked trying desperately to pick apart what her words meant.

‘I’m saying you're a grown-up. I can't stop you and I won't,’ she said, ‘but if it’s what you want…’

‘It is,’ I said.

‘Then we’ll figure it out,’ she said, ‘it’s just a lot you have to understand that.’

‘I do Mama,’ I said, ‘but I promise this is good for me. I know once you meet him you'll understand.’

‘You're probably right,’ she said, a tad flatter than I’d hoped. I could hear her moving now, no doubt itching to get me off the line. A suspicion that was confirmed as she said, ‘Look your daddy will be home soon. I should go.’

‘Okay,’ I said trying to sound as understanding as possible.

‘Okay,’ she replied, ‘I love you.’

‘Love you too,’ I said quietly.

‘Bye.’

And with that she was gone, the line going silent as I slipped the handset back into place. As I thought about it all I flopped back on the bed exhausted by the mix of emotions flooding thought me. I supposed it could’ve gone worse. It wasn’t the best it could be sure, but she could’ve said no. She could’ve told me I had to come home which would only leave me heartbroken, not by the prospect of leaving Elvis, but by the fact that I would choose him, I knew I would.

I knew how it looked. I knew I must sound crazy to move hundreds of miles away from home for a boy I had only just met and that as my mother she had every right to be concerned. But as my attention was pulled to the door where I found Elvis poking his head around it, a lopsided grin coming to his face as he found me splayed out on the bed, I knew her concerns weren’t warranted. Because as hard as I had fallen for him he had fallen for me just as much.

And though we could try to do long distance it wouldn’t be the same. I'd be stuck moping around Crawford, my days spent waiting for him. At least here I was in his world and that world was one I never wanted to leave, because no matter how mixed up I was feeling at that moment everything felt okay because he was there.

‘Hey,’ he said coming into the room and sitting next to me.

‘Hey,’ I replied as I pushed myself up, looping my arm through his as I placed my head on his shoulder.

‘Everything alright?’ he asked with concern making a small smile come to my face.

‘Yeah,’ I murmured, ‘just got off the phone with my mom.’

‘Ah,’ he said understandingly, ‘how'd it go?’

‘Could've gone better,’ I admitted, refusing to look up though I felt him glance down at me. It was true, it could’ve gone better but I supposed it could’ve gone worse too and for that I was grateful.

‘You told her I was a Vols fan huh?’ Elvis asked making me giggle, his own hearty rumble soothing against my ear. Though as quickly as my laugh came it went and he must have heard the deep breath that came from me as no sooner was it out did he put his hand on my knee, providing me with comfort I could never repay. Comfort that only continued as he said, ‘They’ll come around.’

I smiled, wondering how on earth he always knew just what to say.

‘I hope so.’

He ain't from where we're from,

But he feels like home, yeah,

He's got me doin' things I've never done,

In Georgia, they call it a sin,

And I still want the Dawgs to win,

But I'm wearing Tennessee orange for him 🧡

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fic #Elvis Presley fic #tennessee orange #song fic #halloween challenge #halloween challenge 2023 #halloween

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rweoutofthewoods · 2 days

Text

fighting with the slow burn in Tennesee Baby and ngl I don't think it's actually going to be a slow burn I can't help myself

#mere’s writing rambles #fic: tennessee baby

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findafight · 1 year

Text

Nebs' Stranger Things Fic Masterlist

I'm finally making a masterlist for my fics/headcanons! hazzah! with brief descriptions) Compiling this I have realized I have written a LOT of stuff?? holy doodles. tumblr fics under the readmore (eventually I'll put them on ao3)

My Writing tag: Finda writes stuff

Ao3 Fics

Robin and Steve's Epic Platonic Soulmate Mixtape WIP. Robin and Steve become friends just after s1, friendship shenanigans as wells as Upside Down s2 (so far) ensues. RaSEPSM tag

Tennessee Ham and Strawberry Jam Complete. Sue Sinclair and Claudia Henderson childhood best friends + Goodbye Earl fic. Standalone but in same series/universe as RaSEPSM

You Don't Fool Me Complete. Steddie, Steve thinks they're dating, Eddie is a bit confused.

Visions of the Things to Be Complete Steddie. Eddie loves M*A*S*H. turns out, Steve also loves it. Eddie's a bit pissed about that.

Starfish on the Beach WIP platonic stobin, steddie. Steve dies instead of Eddie s5 fic, based on my own post

Tumblr Fics

Steddie Focused fics

Stobjargyle and Corroded Coffin au (tag)

Steve's mixtape of government banned songs

Demiro Steve

Addams!Steve (I will def continue this one of these days)

Rockstar Eddie and ~homosexual~ rumours

Human Steve and Spn Human Steve (tags)

Miraculous Au (tag)

Eddie Tweets AU (tag, only one post but will have more)

Baby Eddies checklist to get steve to fall in love with him

BNF Steve ramble

Stobin Focused Fics

Studio Era stobin lavender marraige au (lavender's blue au tag )

Upsidedown death Timetravel au (eventually will continue)

demiromantic steve

QPR stobin in their 40's

Best Hugs

Swimmer Steve au (tag) (possibly stonathan? idk yet tho)

Pjo au (tag)

Post Starcourt haha

Venom!Stobin (tag)

Steve is Seven au

Stobin post order66 au original post (that I'll eventually expand) Dustin realizes Robin and Steve are jedi. Stobin help train Dustin and Eddie is here now

Telepathic Stobin concept

Soulmate Words au snippet

Dream team Steve au prologue p1 (Steve is drafted to the NBA fic with qpr lavender marriage stobin

Misc posts

Steve dragging everyone's taste

Gay Jonathan Byers

Big Brother Steve (tag) original post

He picked up the bat

unrequited Byler p1 (part 2 eventually)

Erica Sinclair post StarCourt

Afterschool care steve

One sided ronance (for Nancy)

Steve doesn't want to be his mum

Bad timeline no Upside Down stancy

#stranger things #steddie #stobin #finda writes stuff #I'll try to keep this update oof

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enretrogue · 4 months

Text

𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗘 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 (𝟭)

.☘︎ ݁˖ = BLACK/POC WORKS | 23' FIC REC M.LIST

TLOU

ABBY ANDERSON

30 Minutes — @ourautumn86

So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings — @hope-drunk

Babymama!Abby — @bayasdulce

Boxer!Abby x GF!Reader — @lillysbigwilly

Guiding Light (Lost At Sea) — @heavenbloom

Meeting Abby At A Club — @astro-ellie

At Least I Got You In My Head ⎢ 4 ⎢ 5 ⎢ 6 — @whatwouldsylwrite

Modern!Abby HCs — @darlingmisa

How Abby proposes To You (Modern AU) — @abbysdruidess

Making Out w/ Abby — @millersaurora

Resuscitate — @loaksky

HCs About Married Life With Abby — @abbysdruidess

Handcuffed by Dom!Abby — @millersaurora

Basketball!Abby — @shawtuzi .☘︎ ݁˖

College!Abby HCs — @cowgirlcherrie

Rockstar!Abby — @elsfairy

Dating Abby HCs — @sugarbag

ELLIE WILLIAMS

SFX Artist!Reader x Streamer!Ellie HCs — @elliesmainhoe

One Last Time — @ellieslovergirl

I Win — @bonnevia

If I’m So Special, Why Am I A Secret? ⎢ What’s Mine, You’ll Miss. — @angvlita

Pervy!Neighbor!Els Teaching Innocent!Reader Guitar — @strawberryjamheart

NSFW Alphabet — @hundredandsix

Enemies to Angry Sex — @elliesflwrgirl

Random Ellie Blurb — @valentinetexas

Babysitting Gig — @lunels

The Hard Way ⎢ Pt. 2 — @totheblood

Western Nights — @lolasimms

Meddle About — @vitentia

ELLABS

3Some — @eroseas

Where The Flowers Bloom ⎢ 2 — @elsfleur

Okay, So. The Jail AU. — @elsweetheart

This Is What Makes Us Girls ⎢ 2 ⎢ 3 ⎢ 4 ⎢ 5 ⎢ 6 — @lolasimms

Reader Fucks Around And Finds Out — @angelanderson

Pool Party — @bellaramslover

Roommate w/ Benefits — @abbysvictim

Welcome to Jackson ⎢ Part Two — @misscaitvi

JOEL MILLER

Iris — @cowgurrrl

Hayloft — @cowgurrrl

Brooklyn Baby — @cowgurrrl

As It Was — @cowgurrrl

Yo Gotti — @cowgurrrl

Natant — @din-miller

Orange Crush — @tieronecrush

Apothecary ⎢ 9 — @atinylittlepain

For Her ⎢ For Pleasure ⎢ For Protection — @wardenparker + absurdthirst

Good Girl — @valentinetexas

Picture — @softlyspector

Stranger Than A Stranger — @proxima-writes

Cruel — @notjustjavierpena

Fair Grounds For Love — @jobean12-blog

The Darkest Little Paradise — @morning-star-joy

A Wound That Never Heals — @toxic-seduction

DBF!Joel Worshiping Shy!Reader— @inkedells

Dead Weight Part III — @lovers-liability

Too Cold (Platonic)(+ Tommy Miller)— @prentissluvr

Joel x Wife!Reader — @forever-rogue

Like Rabbits Blinded By The Light — @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Heavy Metal Drummer — @cowgurrrl

Enemies to Lovers — @fooled-around-and-fell

Not a Survivalist Girl Part 4 — @chaotic-mystery + tightjeansjavi

Masked Up — @soullumii

Cat Scratch Fever — @soullumii

Pretty Prey — @cavillscurls

Only You, Only Me — @wonwoosthetic

What Never Left Us — @bi-writes

Tennessee Whiskey — @cowgurrrl

Starving — @jrrmint

#navigation

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cupidsdescendant · 11 months

Note

oh my god I'm so embarrassed but do you think you could give us some headcanons for a friends-to-lovers kinda thing with Scout? maybe some nsfw ones as well??🥺 a shy reader maybe? afab?? totally cool if this is too specific or if you'd just rather not 👉👈

hey anon! Sure I'd love to. I've been working on a longer fic so I haven't been online much but thank you for the ask!

Friends 2 Lovers: Scout X Y/N! (BONUS NSFW)

-Both of you have been close friends for years, you could tell by all the childhood photos each others mom's forced you to take

-Photos of you and him at his birthday, your birthday, at the zoo, roller skating, etc. They all hung up on a corkboard that had all his cherished memories on display. -Scout had always felt neutral with you because you were his closest friend. Except for a few awkward moments that you both repressed. -Moments like Y/N laying on his chest, her hand accidentally moving close to his thigh or them accidentally touching hands, both tried to forget them but when they were alone, it was always in their mind. -Scout would occasionally flirt with Y/N "as a joke". He also loves "practicing" cheese one-liners on you. -"Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only 10 I see!" he says clicking his tongue and shooting finger guns at you. "God you're such a dork." Y/N says, rolling her eyes. -"Okay, okay how bout' this one-...Baby, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print~!" Scout says with a huge grin. -"Yeah maybe," Y/N said, she put her hand on her face and looked longingly at him. "You play baseball, yeah? Cus you're a real knock outta the park." -Scout's face became lightly flushed with pink, "haha. Y-you're kidding, right?" "Of course. Why would I be serious?" She got up and stretched her arms "Besides if I was going to flirt with you I'd be less cheesy." -"...How so...?" He asked. -Y/N looked over to him and grabbed his hat from his head, firmly placing it on hers. "Maybe something a little like this." -She put her arms around his shoulders and pushed him to her "How bout we go to my room and you give me a home run?" She said with a toothy grin. Scout's face was doused in red and a loud roar of laughter followed "God that was so bad!!!" Y/N said holding her face "Oh my god, sorry. I'll think of something better." She walked away leaving Scout an embarrassed mess -Even though it was a "Joke" he couldn't stop thinking about the interaction. He buried years of crushing so deeply that once Y/N said that, they all rose from the grave. He couldn't stop thinking about her in more ways than "Just friends." -Of course, Y/N felt this way the entire time but she tried to pay no mind to it. Her heart was always heavy when she was next to him because there was this want to just tell him how she felt...but she couldn't -Weeks go past after the interaction and both of them decided to work the courage to ask each other. Scout with a letter in hand and Y/N was a planned speech they both asked each other to meet at the top of the hill where a huge tree stood. -"No I-" They said together "Wait-No You can go-" Their words were identical, pointing at each other "STOP!!! YOU GO FIRST- OH MY-" Both of them grunted in annoyance and Y/N signaled to zip Scout's mouth. -"J-Jeremy." She said anxiously, staring at his eyes made her anxiety worsen. "Uh...so like. We've been friends for a while and. I- Uhm..." Y/N shut her eyes tightly and poured the truth out. "Jeremy, I've always liked you and it was hard to say because...I didn't want to ruin our friendship if...i-if it didn't w-ork.." -Scout dropped his letter and gently held her hands. "No, no. I...I felt the same way too, Y/N. You're right- that's the reason why I kept it in for so long." -"So what now?" She said looking at him. -A sensual kiss fell onto Y/N's lips, Scout's gently touching hers and she felt herself met a little. He pushed up against her and she held tightly onto his shirt as they both lowered down. -A whole make-out sesh happened on that damn hill lmao. NSFW WARNING AHEAD!

-Tries hard in bed to please you, but has no experience. -Jacks off A LOT, though. This man shoots semen like 24/7. -Whenever he watches porn he tried to take notes to make sure he does the same to you lol -Average erection, around 5-6. -He asks his mom what to do once you both have sex and she hands him a pack of condoms

-Takes him bout a minute to put one on, he's super embarrassed by it. "I hope I can try and give you a good time..." "Any moment with you is great, Jam Jam." (yes that's his nickname) -Fear not! He gets the hang of it and progressively gets better. -Is willing to do any kinks you enjoy <3. Some of his is degradation, praise, very light BDSM, and overstimulation

-He's a little dirty too~ (he doesn't tell you) but even though you guys are dating he imagines you aren't, and it's just his hot best friend giving blow jobs for free or "practice" -He lets you overstimulate him, practically have him shaking by the end of every session -His favorite thing to do with you is eat you out and let your cum drip out. Sucking it and licking your clit afterward

-He always spoons you after and hugs you but for some reason, he gets super hungry and energetic so he'll usually bring back a snack and talk your head off until you're asleep!! Ighty anon! Thanks for the request!! I'll be uploading more in the future <3

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 headcanons #team fortress two #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 scout #team fortress scout #tf2 scout x reader #scout x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 soldier #tf2 demo #tf2 heavy

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jordie-gvf · 1 year

Text

vanilla, jake kiszka

this is a fic on having to safeword with jake. this can be a triggering fic as it mentions an abusive relationship. if you are sensitive to that topic, please do not read this fic.

word count : 2.1k+

warnings : rough!jake, dom!jake, choking, spit kink, alcohol, a past abusive relationship, fluff, smut, language

again, if you are triggered by the topic of an abusive relationship please do not read this. if you ever need help or just need someone to talk to, my messages are open.

enjoy!

Whenever Jake had messed up a few chords at a show, you would let him take out his anger on you.

Tonight, there was a show close to home. You had always gone to the Tennessee shows, no matter where it was. You were sitting in Jake's dressing room, waiting for him to get done showering. You had already poured him a glass of bourbon, knowing that what he needed.

The bathroom door slammed open, and out walked Jake. He downed the cold glass of bourbon, looked at you and said, “Let's go.”

You were up on your feet in no time, following him out the door. He said bye to everyone and grabbed the keys from your hand. He threw everything in the backseat and went over to the driver's side. You got in and put your seatbelt on. He turned the car on and made his way home. He pulled into the driveway and parked the car. You went to get out when Jake said, “Hey, angel? Pour me another glass and get your ass upstairs. If you're not naked by the time I get up there, you are going to be in big trouble.”

He pointed to the house, giving you a head start. You quickly walked into the kitchen, got a glass full with ice and poured him his drink. You left the open bottle on the counter and ran up the stairs. You sat on the vanity and admired your makeup for the night. You had done light pink eyeshadow with light purple liner, rhinestones around your eye, mascara, and baby pink lipstick. You didn't want to take it off, as it looked so pristine. You got undressed and took your hair out, leaving the makeup on.

You heard the garage door close, so you had time to put on perfume and nicely scented lotion. You sat on the bed and grabbed your maple lotion, Jake's favorite on you. You grabbed your YSL perfume and spritzed some on you. You heard footsteps that belonged to Jake. You laid on your stomach, head at the foot of the bed, with your legs crossed in the air, so when he walked in, all he saw was your face, your legs, and your feet.

He walked in and you took notice of the Woodford Reserve in his hand. He set it down on the nightstand and said, “Oh Angel, you look like a wet dream.” and sat on the bed next to you. You looked up at him through your lashes as he put his thumb on your lips. He used his thumb to smudge your lipstick and stuck his thumb in your mouth. You sucked on his thumb and he pulled it out of your mouth. He slapped your cheek and then rubbed your face.

He stood up and told you to sit in front of him. You did exactly as he said, knowing the consequences weren’t pretty. You parted your legs and let him come in between them. He lifted your head up to look at him and he asked, “Did you hear how many times I fucked up tonight? Seeing you in the crowd, looking at me with those pretty eyes. Made it impossible not to bend you over the amp and fuck you right there, everyone watching us.” You let out a moan at the last statement and he said, “My angel likes that, doesn't she? She wants everyone to know how much of a slut she is for my cock. Are you cock slut, angel?”

You nodded and he stuck his thumb back in your mouth. He reached over and grabbed the bourbon off the nightstand. He told you to open and pulled your hair into his fist. He poured the alcohol in his mouth first, then spit it into yours. You swallowed it and he did it again.

He let go of your hair and put the Woodford back onto the nightstand. He told you, “Lay back. I need this angel pussy in my mouth.” You laid down and he kissed up your thighs. He got on his knees and lifted your right leg up onto the bed. You rested your right foot on the edge of the bed, left hanging off.

He gave a little kiss to your clit and gave it a little lick. Your hands moved to his hair as he started to apply a little pressure to you. He kissed your pussy and lapped at it. He grabbed your wrists and held them down next to you. “No. Touching.” he said, giving you your first warning. He went back to pleasing you and let your wrists go. He sucked your clit into his mouth and stuck his two fingers inside of you. “So warm and wet for me? Is she crying for my touch?” he asked you. You nodded and let out a moan as he touched your g-spot. “Angel I can feel you. You about to cum, baby?” he said. You nodded and he said, “Too fucking bad.” and pulled away from you. You started whining for him and he said, “Dont fucking whine. You're lucky you got that. Whiny bitch.”

He took his shirt off and told you to sit up. You sat up and he threw his shirt somewhere across the room. He took your head and leaned your chin against his stomach. He looked down at you and said, “Are you my pretty angel? Pretty little angel.” He reached his hand down your back and grabbed your ass, smacking it a few times. He pulled his hand off and told you to lay on your stomach.

You turned around and laid on your stomach. He undid his belt and pulled his pants down. He kneeled between your legs, leaned down and said, “Gonna let me in this pretty pussy? Gonna let me fuck you, Angel?”

You nodded and bit your lip, slightly parting your legs. He spit on his cock and rubbed his hand up and down himself. “Good girl, Im gonna fuck you now, okay? Let me know if anything hurts or if it gets too much.” he said to you. You moaned in agreement and he finally started fucking you.

His thrusts were fast and he let out moans. “I love this fucking pussy. Pussy was made for me, don't you think?” he asked you. You threw your head back and he pulled out and flipped you over.

He kissed your boobs and sucked your nipple into his mouth. Once he had stopped, he wrapped his hand around your neck. Usually, he wouldn't ever apply pressure, he would just rest his hand there. But tonight, that wasn't the case. He started to squeeze, hard. Your eyes started rolling to the back of your head. “Va-. Va-.” you started to say, but couldn't form words. You hit his arms a few times and managed to say, “Jake, I can't breathe.” He looked over at you and noticed your eyes. He stopped thrusting and said, “Let me see your eyes, baby. Show me your eyes.” You opened your eyes and he saw tears coming from the corners of your eyes. He let go of you and got off of you. “Fuck, Y/N. Im so sorry.” he said and tried to touch your arm. You pulled away from him and went to the closet. You didn't want to look at him right now, so you got dressed and went back out to the room. You saw Jake, fully clothed, on the bed with his head in his hands. “Jake, I'm going to my sisters for the night.” you said to him and walked towards the door. He got up and followed you. “Baby, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me.” He tried to turn you by grabbing your arm, but you yanked your arm away from him. You said, “Don't touch me.” and left the room.

You grabbed your keys and your purse and got in your car. Jake followed you out to the car, giving you reasons to stay. “I'll run you a bath. I'll order a pizza. Please stay with me.” he said.

You locked the car doors and made your way to your sister's house. You had already called her, informing her on what happened. She welcomed you in with open arms, she already had food on the stove for you.

She served you a glass of water and the spaghetti she had heated. “I don't mean to come so late. I just didn't want to be around him.” you said. She nodded her head and said, “Yeah, I can imagine, especially after Diego.”

Diego was your ex-boyfriend. At first, he was one of the best guys you had ever been with. But when he had a few too many brews, he wasn't so nice. One night, after you had gone out with your sister and her girlfriend, he had accused you of cheating on him. He slammed you up against the wall and choked you. Now, you knew Jake would never do that to you, but after he applied pressure, it reminded you of him.

You ate and spent the night at your sister's house. When you woke up, you went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and noticed a handprint around your neck. You went to Liz’s room and asked if she had any clothes you could wear. She handed you your favorite dress of hers and looked at your neck. You started crying when she hugged you, knowing how much that relationship affected you.

You looked at your phone to see 134 text messages and 20 calls from Jake. You listened to all of his voicemails, which entailed how sorry he was and how he was going to fix your relationship. His text messages were all about how much he loved you and that he understands if you left him.

You left him on read and made your way home. You stopped at his favorite breakfast place and got him a breakfast burrito and got yourself one as well.

You paid and went home. You turned the corner and saw Josh's truck in the driveway. You opened the front door and saw Jake look over to see who it was. He locked eyes with you and sighed, running over to where you were. He hugged you extremely tight and said, “I thought I lost you forever.” You mumbled into his chest, “I'd never leave you.”

He pulled away and kissed your forehead. You held up the bag of food and said, “Hungry?” He nodded and said, “I haven't eaten anything since last night.” You walked over to the table and said, “Hi Josh. I'm sorry, if I knew you were here, I would've gotten you something.”

“Don't sweat it, I was about to leave anyway. See you guys later.” he said and made his way out the door. Jake unpacked the food and you handed him his coffee.

He sat down at the table and started eating. He looked at you and saw your neck. He stopped eating and got up from the table, slamming his food down. “Jake! What's wrong?” you asked him. He stormed upstairs and went into the bedroom, slamming the door and locking it. You knocked on the door, hearing him crying. You opened the Jack and Jill bathroom door and walked into your room from the bathroom. He was in the swivel chair in the corner, legs crossed, head in his hands.

“Why'd you come home? You should've left me.” He said. “I hurt you, Y/N. Do you see your neck? I did that to you. You should be mad at me.”

“Who says I'm not upset with you? You've done it before. It's my fault I didn't tell you before.” you said to him.

“Tell me what?” he asked, looking up at you. Tears were running down his face and his nose was running. You grabbed a tissue and wet it, walked back over to where we was, and wiped his face off. “Jake, before you I dated a guy, Diego. He was sweet and I knew that he loved me. Towards the end of our relationship, he started getting physical. He accused me of cheating on him, which resulted in him choking me, up against the bedroom wall. When you put pressure on my throat, I got flashbacks of that night, and I thought you were mad at me for something I had done.”

He gave you a look full of sorrow and wrapped his arms around you. “I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done it without asking you first.” he said, apologetically.

“No Jake, I should've told you. It's my fault.” you responded.

He pulled away from the warm embrace and scolded you. “Don't blame yourself for what happened.”

“I'm hungry,” you said, laughing.

“Really? After the heart to heart you're talking about food?” he said and laughed with you. “Let's eat, Angel.” He sat up, grabbed your hand, and led you downstairs.

You sat at the table and ate your food together, happy again.

#jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka angst #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #greta van fluff #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van angst #greta van fic

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powerofelvis · 1 year

Text

Pledging My Love

Pairing: Elvis Presley x black!reader

Word Count: 11K (I got a little carried away)

Summary: It’s 1952 in Memphis, Tennessee and Elvis is a senior at Humes, a star quarterback for his school’s football team. Y/N is the lead cheerleader for their rival school, but no rivalry is a match for the sparks that fly between them. With segregation rising in the south, their relationship is forbidden but Elvis won’t give up without a fight.

Warnings: Football Quarterback!Elvis, ANGST, written around segregation time period, Lead Cheerleader!reader, mention of mother’s death on reader’s part, slight violence, SMUT, oral (f.receiving), vaginal fingering (if you squint), unprotected sex, FLUFF, a love story for the times, very happy ending considering the time period

A/N: I got a little carried away with this story, but it’s good for me. I hope that it will be good for you as well. I would like to say that I probably won’t right more surrounding around segregation period in the South but honestly, Elvis did live during that time so it’s fitting that he meets his lovely reader during that period as well. There are two songs that helped me get through the last half of this fic which is very obvious stated in the story: I’m In The Mood by John Lee Hooker and Pledging My Love by Johnny Ace (or Elvis because he sang this song as well). So if you would be so kind, check those songs out because they are beautiful honestly. Although Pledging My Love didn’t come out until 1955, it felt fitting for this love story for the ages. Anyway, I don’t wanna keep rambling, I hope you all enjoy this just as much as I loved writing it. Happy reading, babies!

masterlist.

Football season was always your favorite time of year in Memphis. The fans, the atmosphere, and even the hottest boys of your school who were all on the team. Although the school that you went to was strictly for African Americans, your school would always play the finest school in Memphis, Humes High School. Their quarterback was the finest in the state, often participating in all-star games that happened in the Spring. Elvis Presley was on his way to being drafted into the professional league, if he kept on the right path. You, the lead cheerleader, would often stare in awe as he ran around the field, doing drills before every game. He was tall, extremely lanky, but you could make out every muscle that toned his body. He was simply gorgeous; nothing more, nothing less. “You are always eyeing that Presley boy. You would think that he was your boyfriend or something.” You looked over to your friend, Velma who had followed your gaze to the quarterback as he was doing the usual drills.

“Oh hush, I think he is gonna be drafted after graduation. Do you see how smooth he moves?” Velma nodded her head at you, looking his way for a short while before she turned to look back at you, stars still in your eyes as you watched Elvis on the field. “I think you’re crazy. That boy won’t give you the time of day, Y/N. We are living in the time of segregation, honey. Even if we weren’t, he probably would think you were like those other cheerleaders who have the hots for the star quarterback.” You rolled your eyes as your coach walked over to the section where you and the other cheerleaders were sitting. “Alright girls, it’s time for a little practice. The game is almost about to begin.” You turned to look at Velma, picking up your pom poms as you stood from the bleachers. “Segregation has nothin’ to do with admiring someone. Even if I could be killed for it.”

You lead your team down to the side that your team was on, leading them through the cheers for the night. As the boys lifted you in the air, your pom poms shook in your hands. You could have sworn that Elvis looked your way, his eyes lingering on you for only a short while, before he continued with his drills. The game was starting, your football team making their way on the field as the crowd cheered. You sat in the segregated section of the stadium along with the others, intensely following each play as if you were making them yourself. As usual, Elvis was running your team into the ground, his moves were exceedingly better than anyone you had ever laid your eyes on. Throughout the game, Elvis would look in your general direction, a bright smile on his face as if he was showing off to you. Velma cursed under her breath as she noticed the score, leading into the halftime. “That boy has better moves than Bobby Marshall! Good god almighty!”

You smiled to yourself, knowing fully well that he was going to be better than any football player that graced the big leagues. You knew it in your heart and you knew that he did too. The halftime went by too fast for your liking, but you could feel that Elvis had his eyes on you as you danced and cheered on the field before their cheerleading team made their way on the field after your performance. “Girl, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire time. You are in for a world of trouble if this goes anywhere.” Velma nudged you playfully, rolling her eyes as she noticed how you hid your face behind your hands. “I’m going to tell you to be careful, honey. Remember the times that we are living in.” You nodded your head as you turned your head to look at her. “I don’t think anything will come out of today, but I think you are right. I might have the hots for this boy.”

The game was over shortly after, Humes had dominated your school and rightfully so. Elvis gave his all every time he played. You were making your way out of the stadium, talking to Freddy Collins, the quarterback for your school. Freddy had always tried to court you, but you were never interested. He was a known player, putting his charms on every woman that moved through the town. “Y/N, I was thinkin’ that maybe we go down to the diner on Beale. I know how much you love their peanut butter milkshakes.” You rolled your eyes at the sentiment, not knowing how he knew such things about you. You may have been the lead cheerleader of your school, but you rarely told people about the things that you enjoyed in your life. “Actually, Freddy. I have to get home. I promised my daddy that I wouldn’t be late again.” He groaned, grabbing you by the arm as you went to leave. “Just one date, baby. I wanna show you how serious I am about you.”

“No. I have to get home.” You pulled your arm from his grasp, glaring at the boy as he furrowed his brows to you. Freddy wouldn’t take no for an answer, wrapping his slender arms around your waist before pulling you into his embrace. You felt dread hit the pit of your stomach as you looked at him, the adrenaline in your body kicked into overdrive. You kneed him in the groin before stepping on his foot, causing him to double over in pain. “I said no, Freddy! Leave me alone.” You stomped off, huffing at the audacity that that boy had putting his hands on you. You were walking down the sidewalk away from the stadium, too caught up in your thoughts when you heard a car honk beside you. A pretty pink cadillac was driving beside you, but you couldn’t see inside. “Hey, sugar! Do ya need a ride?” You huffed under your breath, knowing that it was probably another boy from your school trying to work his charms with you now that he knew that you weren’t interested in the quarterback.

You pulled your duffel bag close to you, not saying a word as you continued walking. The honking continued, really tearing at your nerves before you turned to face the person that was honking at you. Your jaw dropped at the figure of the person who was driving beside you, heart jumping into your throat as you stopped dead in your tracks. “Elvis? What are you doing following me?” You asked, placing your hands on your hips as you bent down to get a closer look at the boy. “Well, I wanted to know if a pretty little thing such as yourself wanted a ride home. I saw what happened between you and that quarterback. I wanted to make sure ya got home safe, without him hasslin’ ya.” You thought for a second, the opportunity sounding too intriguing to ignore. However, your daddy would kill you if he saw you associating with a white boy, let alone allowing him to take you home. “My daddy’ll kill me if he saw me pulling up to his house in a car that he doesn't recognize.” You sassily retorted, but you wanted nothing more than to get inside of his car, to be closer to him.

“Come on, sugar. If you are uncomfortable with me pulling into the driveway, I’ll stop before we get to your house.” He spoke, leaning over to the passenger side of his car, unlocking the door. You sighed out, knowing that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, walking up to his car before opening the door to get inside. “Alright, but no funny business, Presley. If you try anything, I’ll slap you silly.” You chuckled as you got inside his car, the scent of his sweat and the new car smell made you almost melt into the seat. You told him the neighborhood that you lived in, him humming that he knew exactly where that was. “And how do you know about Harbor Heights? That’s a long way from home, ain’t it?” He shrugged, driving through Beale Street. “I know a couple of good folks in that neighborhood, does that bother ya, sugar?” You rolled your eyes as you turned to face him. “My name ain’t sugar or pretty little thing. My name is Y/N.”

He chuckled, clicking his tongue in his mouth before speaking your name with his southern drawl. It drove you crazy how he said your name, wanting to hear it more often passing his soft lips. “What a pretty name for a pretty girl like you, Y/N. So, what was the deal with that guy back there at the stadium?” You smacked your lips, crossing your arms as you thought about Freddy. You were sure that the word would spread around the school on Monday about how you turned Freddy Collins down. The girls would have a field day hearing that, probably teasing you about how stupid you were. Freddy was the hottest boy in the school, he could have anybody that he wanted, so who were you to turn him down? “Freddy? He’s a bonehead. He thinks just because he’s the star quarterback that he could have any woman that he wants. I’m not interested in him, let’s just leave it at that.” Elvis chuckled as he turned to look at you, his cerulean eyes taking in your features before he opened his mouth to speak.

“You’re not interested in him, yet, he still bothers ya? That’s not very gentlemanly of him.” You rolled your eyes as you turned to look at him again, shrugging your shoulders. “Freddy Collins ain’t a gentleman. He-,” You looked out of the window as his car neared a police cruiser. You could feel your blood stop cold as you immediately sank down into the car’s floorboard, whimpering as you knew that if an officer saw you riding with Elvis, you would surely pay for it. “I told you this was a bad idea, Elvis. That officer probably saw me.” You whimpered in fear as he looked forward as he drove past the officer, who wasn’t even paying attention. Elvis placed his hand over yours, consoling you as you shook with fear. “The coast is clear, sugar.” He whispered as he pulled into your neighborhood. You popped your head up over the dashboard, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of your neighborhood. “This is far enough, Elvis. Thank you.” You got up from the floorboards before grabbing your bag, opening the door to his car before running away towards your house. You could hear him screaming for you to stop, wanting to tell you goodbye before you parted ways, but you were too terrified to stop. As you made it to your house, you gathered yourself, catching your breath before opening your door. Your father was sitting in his lounge chair, reading the newspaper before his head popped up to look in your direction.

“Have a good game, little bee?” You smiled at your daddy, placing your bag down on the kitchen table before running over to pull him into a hug. “Yeah, although, we lost again.” He chuckled, nodding his head at you before leading you into the kitchen. “That’s okay, I’m sure y'all will win a game or two before the season is over. I made dinner tonight, I’m turning in for the night. I’ll see you in the morning, little bee. I love you.” You smiled as you kissed his cheek as he turned in for the night. You sighed as he was out of view, sinking into your chair as you thought about tonight and a certain football player who you weren't sure you would ever see again.

Monday rolled around; the dread of another week of school weighing heavily on your mind. You made it to your school, catching Velma and your other friend, Faith at their lockers. “There’s the big shot who is now known as the girl who got away from Freddy Collins.” You sighed, opening your locker before grabbing your books. “That fool thought that if he wrapped his arms around my waist, I would melt like butter like the other lovestruck hussies at this school. I have better things to worry about other than Freddy Collins.” Velma leaned against the locker next to yours as you shut the door to your own locker, crossing her arms. “Yeah, like that white boy over at Humes. That Elvis Presley.” She teased, wiggling her eyebrows. Faith gasped, pulling her books up to her chest before leaning in close to Velma. “She likes Elvis? Oh boy, your daddy will skin you alive if he heard about that.” You glared at Velma, knowing that it wouldn't be long before she opened her big mouth to anyone else.

“He ain’t ever gonna find out, Velma. Besides, I probably won’t ever see that boy again. We only play Humes twice a season anyhow.” You walked past them before heading off to your first class of the day. Although you weren’t sure that you would ever see Elvis again personally, it didn’t stop you from thinking about him throughout the week. The week ended quickly, cheerleading practice taking up your time on Saturdays as another game approached. “Y/N, we are going down to the diner on Beale. Do you wanna come with us?” You agreed, throwing your cheer clothes in the duffel bag, shoving it into your locker. “I could go for a nice burger with that peanut butter milkshake, oh honey.” You took the time to freshen yourself up, picking your puffed out afro before spraying on your mother’s old perfume. You sighed, looking at the bottle as it shined in your hands. Your mother passed away last summer, leaving you and your father to pick up and move on without her. She was your life; the only person who knew how much you loved to cheer. She was your biggest supporter, pushing you to attend the cheer tryouts. She would come to every game, cheering your name from the stands but then she got sick. The cancer had returned; breast cancer had torn your heart from you, wondering if you would ever love someone as much as you loved her.

“Y/N, we are gonna leave without you! Come on, girl!” You could hear Velma scream out from the hallway. You wiped the tears that had prickled your eyes, taking a deep breath before you placed her perfume bottle back into your purse. “I’m comin’! I was freshening up.” You laughed, walking out of the bathroom of the school before you followed her to her car. The three of you–Velma, Faith, and you, drove away from your high school, heading downtown to Beale Street. Once you arrived at the diner that you would regularly attend with your friends, you could see the normality that was known as Beale Street. The streets were filled with black folks, window shopping or conversing with their friends. Beale Street was your favorite place to be during the daytime, seeing the soul shining throughout every store front and building that littered the strip.

It was nighttime that made you fearful. After all, it was 1952. Segregation was running rampant through the South; the law enforcement that patrolled the area once the street lights cut on, made sure that the law was enforced. However, that didn’t stop a few white folks from integrating with blacks over at Beale. In fact, from the backseat of Velma’s car, you could make out a few white women who were speaking with black women over a dress that they wanted to buy over at the local boutique. Velma parked her car, stepping out of the driver’s side before placing her pristine sunglasses that she got for her birthday over her eyes. You got out of the car, holding your clutch in your hands as you and your friends headed inside of Red’s Diner. Red’s was a pivotal memory that remained of your mother; she would often bring you down to Beale every weekend. You would always get the same meal, the cheeseburger special with a peanut butter milkshake on the side.

It was to die for. “Ladies, it’s awfully good to see you walkin’ through my door.” The owner, Beatrice, waved from behind the counter. “The usual, Y/N?” She asked, her wrinkles disappearing as her lips curved up in a smile. “Yes, ma’am! It’s great to see you again.” You sat down at the nearest booth from the counter, looking over the menu as if your order wasn’t already written down. As your friends gave their orders to the waitress, you could see someone walk in from the corner of your eye. Elvis was walking into the diner with his friends, football in hand as they laughed about something you couldn’t quite catch. You looked behind you, catching his eye, a smile crossing his lips as he shot a wink in your direction. “Oh girl, you didn’t tell me that your casanova frequented Red’s. I ain’t ever seen him here before.” Faith smiled, being the next person in your circle to notice Elvis’ appearance.

“I didn’t either.” You muttered under your breath, your heart speeding up in your chest. It was as if time stopped, the feeling of excitement cruised through your body at the thought of being close to Elvis again. You didn’t think that you would see him until the next game that your school had with Humes, but you were proven wrong. Elvis appeared by your table moments later, his bright smile in your direction as he looked down at you sitting in the booth. “If it ain’t the girl who ran away from me like a cat whose tail was on fire! Funny to see ya here, sugar.” Your face heated up from his greeting, hearing Velma and Faith whispering to each other about the name of endearment that Elvis had used for you. “It’s nice to see you too, Elvis. What are you doing here?” Your eyes turned to stare at him, embarrassed but also flustered at the same time. “My friends wanted to take a trip down here to Beale. They heard that Beatrice makes a mean burger, so they wanted to try it out. If I knew this was where you like to show your beautiful face, I woulda come here more often.”

Your friends squealed with glee, watching your interaction with Elvis with their own eyes. You swatted at them, telling them to hush as you turned your attention back to Elvis. “I’m here almost every weekend, does that answer your question?” Elvis pushed his tongue in his cheek, leaning down on the table as he looked over at your friends. “I’m Elvis, Sugar’s friend. You are?” He extended his hand, Velma being the first to take it. “I’m Velma, I’ve been friends with Sugar since grade school. This is Faith, she’s our friend. We are all on the cheerleading team with Sugar.” Velma teasingly replied, putting emphasis on Sugar. You glared at her, the look on your face could have knocked her dead as you gritted your teeth. “Well, it’s always a pleasure to meet Sugar’s friends. I gotta go back to the boys, will I see ya later?” His question was towards you, the look in his eyes was like a lovestruck boy who was asking his crush out for the first time.

“Maybe Elvis could take you home, Y/N? I have to take Faith to work after this and then meet my mama down at the church.” You sighed as you nodded your head to Elvis. “I guess you will see me later, Elvis.” He smiled, winking at Velma and Faith before turning back to look at you once more. “Good, I’ll wait for ya outside.” He walked away with a little pep in his step, tossing the football that was in his hands to one of his friends before his body disappeared behind the wall that blocked him from your view. You turned your head back with a glare on your features, throwing the hot fry that was on your plate that was in front of you now at your friend. “It’s very convenient that now you gotta meet your mother at church, bubblehead!” Velma laughed, putting the fry that fell on her plate in her mouth before sticking out her tongue. “I’m just trying to help you out. Faith and I both know that you have a thing for that quarterback of yours.” Lunch with your friends went without interruption, catching up on the latest gossip that spread through your school and friends circle. When Beatrice came up to your table, she didn’t bring the check which was odd to say the least.

“Uh, Beatrice? Where’s our check?” You asked, watching as she collected you and your friends’ plates. “That Elvis boy paid for you and your friends. What a lucky girl you are.” You gasped, looking out of the window of the diner to see Elvis and his friends horsing around before you. He noticed your gaze, winking before turning back to his friends. Velma and Faith both looked at each other, the look of adoration on their faces as they stood up from the booth. You followed suit, hugging them both before they parted from you, sending their thanks to Elvis as they walked by. Elvis’ friends had also left by now, leaving you alone with him. You said your goodbyes to Beatrice, promising to come back to visit again next weekend before you pushed open the diner’s door. “Did I make you wait long?” You asked him, giggling as he leaned against the streetlight. “I could wait forever on ya, mama. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little waiting.” You rolled your eyes at his smooth words, snorting through your nose.

“You sure are smooth, Elvis Presley. I’ll give you that.” You rocked on your heels, looking around at the people who graced the streets. “Where are we going?” You asked, stepping forward as you held onto your clutch. You knew that you had to be home a bit later, but you were hoping that later never came. “I wanna take ya to a spot where I would go when things become too crazy. Nobody knows that it exists.” He pulled his body off of the pole of the streetlight, opening the passenger side door of his cadillac. “And how do I know you’re not kidnapping me and planning on dumping my body somewhere?” You crossed your arms, not impressed with not knowing exactly where you were going. You may have liked him, but your mama didn’t raise a fool. She always told you to make sure that you were safe and you weren’t about to be in the newspaper the next day. “Honey, I would miss you too much to kill ya. I promise you’ll be safe. Do ya trust me?” He asked, maneuvering himself beside the door, leaving room for you to enter.

You slid into the passenger side of his car, leaning over to the other side to unlock his door so that he could get inside. “Lord girl, you’re gonna make me marry ya one day. Out of all the women who rode in this car, you’re the first to unlock the door for me.” You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “Shouldn’t every woman unlock the door for the man who holds the door open for them?” You asked as he peeled from his spot near the diner. The ride was pretty smooth, conversation varying from childhood stories to things that you liked. He was very easy to talk to, most boys around your age only wanted to flirt and try to make moves on you. You didn’t feel that with Elvis, but you weren’t going to jump into conclusions so quickly. As he pulled into a forest-like berth, you immediately noticed a water hole with pretty rocks that littered the river. “It’s beautiful, Elvis. You said you come here often?”

He nodded, turning off his car before reaching in the backseat for a little blanket. “I would come down here when things get stressful, I find that peace and quiet would do the mind some good.” He got out of the car, running around to your side before opening the door for you. One thing that you liked about him was that he was a gentleman, helping you out of the car by the hand as he led you over to a little patch of green that littered the ground. He laid the blanket down, plopping down on it as he laid on his arm. “Well, come here, sugar. I ain’t gonna bite ya.” You scoffed, sitting down on your knees beside him, placing your hands on your lap as you sat next to him. “Ain’t it beautiful? Of course, it’s not as beautiful as you.” You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head at him as you looked over at him. The sun shined across his face, giving you a better look at his blue eyes as he looked down at the water.

You could only imagine how much Velma would tease you at how open that Elvis was being with you. You couldn’t help but wonder what his game was, only knowing you for a few days and yet, he was already showing you a private part of his life. “You know? I don’t normally bring women here, I consider this the only thing that I could keep to myself.” It was as if Elvis read your mind, but a part of you was glad that you were the only woman that he would invite into his world. “And what makes me different?” You asked, tilting your head down to look at the boy beside you, sucking in a breath as his blue eyes looked over at you as if he was searching for something deep. “I don’t know that yet, sugar. I only know that you’re different from the girls at my school and I’m sure you are different from the girls that live in this town.” He was right about one thing, you were totally different from the girls who lived in this town because you didn’t throw yourself at any man who showed you a lick of attention.

“Out of all of the girls that you could go for, why me?” You asked him truthfully, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. Elvis looked over you for a while, the glistening of your cocoa complexion from the Memphis sun paired nicely with your amber hues. He could get lost in your eyes forever, only wanting to live to see them every day as long as he lived. “Sugar, you’re unlike any girl that I’ve ever met. You don’t take no shit, pardon the language. I know that we can’t be seen together in public, but I don’t take these segregation laws seriously. Who are they to tell me that I can’t admire a woman because of her skin color?” You nearly choked, eyes widening as he continued to speak. “I wanna court ya the right way. Segregation laws be damned. What do ya say?” He was still staring in your eyes, your heart nearly flying out of your chest as you shook your head. “You must’ve lost your mind, Elvis. You can’t be serious! If they catch you with me, you’ll be in a world of trouble. You have your football career to think about, I’m not worth losing that.”

Elvis took you by the hand, a look of frustration painted over his features before he sat up on the blanket. “Now, listen to me, sugar. I’m serious about this, very serious. I’m not gonna pass up on the only girl who could make me feel things that I’ve never felt before. Your skin color doesn’t matter to me, it never will. I’m not saying that I understand the struggle that you are going through because I don’t. I won’t ever understand, but I’m wanting ya to let me in. I’m wanting to struggle beside you, with you. I know we’ve only known each other for only a short few days, but I would be nutty as a fruitcake to let you slip out of my fingers because of some bullshit laws that don’t make a lick of sense.” You would have never guessed that the man that wanted to be serious with you would be a white man, yet alone, willing to go against the law. Your daddy would slap you silly if he was around the two of you and the police wouldn’t be lenient either.

Instead of fighting with him, you nodded your head as you took a deep breath. “Alright, Presley. If you are as serious as you say you are, I’ll let you court me the right way. No funny business or I’m gone.” Elvis smiled, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug before kissing your forehead. “No funny business, I promise ya, sugar.” The sun was beginning to set, so Elvis figured that it was time to take you home. He didn’t want to mess up on the first day of him courting you. As he drove you home, you kept a lookout for any police officers, your fingers picking at the bracelet that your mother had given you before she passed away–a habit that you had picked up after she was gone. He had dropped you off at the normal spot, turning his car off before he turned to face you. “I wanna take you out on a proper date next weekend. Would ya like to go out after my game?”

You nodded your head, agreeing that you would give him a chance to show you how serious he really was. “Would you come to my game too?” You gasped, looking at him as if he was crazy. “Come to your game? Are you sure? Would they even allow me to attend?” You mentally slapped yourself because you knew that they would, you would have to sit in the colored only section, but you were beside yourself believing that you would be allowed to go. “Sugar, you’re thinkin’ too hard on this one. Of course, they will let you come. We are playing Washington Heights, ya familiar with them?” You nodded, staring out of the front window at your house to make sure that your father wasn’t outside. Washington Heights, like Humes, were your school’s rival team, but they weren’t very good.

You knew that Humes would dominate them, so you were excited for the weekend to roll around. Elvis took you out of your thoughts, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “So, I’ll see ya at my game?” You chuckled as you nodded your head firmly. “I’ll be there, you better win too.” You said your goodbyes, exiting his car quickly before briskly walking up to your house. Your father wasn’t home, a relief that washed over you immediately as you decided to get dinner ready for when he would return. As you were chopping up the ingredients needed for dinner, the smile wouldn’t leave your face as you thought about the upcoming date that you were having with Elvis.

The week picked up, the only thing that got you through it was the football game on Friday night. You had told your father that you would be going out with your friends after the game. You hated lying to your father, but if he knew that you were conversing with a white boy, he would skin you on the spot. Friday came quickly, you were standing in your room in the mirror. You decided to wear a blue floral dress, the lace at the bottom of it was surely going to knock Elvis off of his feet. You spent the majority of the time after school straightening your afro, the hair stopping mid shoulders. Your father would be working a little late tonight, which you were extremely grateful for. You grabbed your cheerleading sweater, taking one last check over yourself before you left your house, heading to the stadium where Humes was playing.

You made it before the teams ran on the field, making sure that you got the perfect seat in the segregated area. You noticed Elvis as soon as he ran on the field, his eyes lingering along the crowd. You knew that he couldn’t see you from where you were sitting, but he knew that you were there. The game went well as you knew that it would, with Humes leading by ten points by the time half time rolled around. It was at that moment that Elvis’ eyes laid upon yours, a smile gracing his beautiful lips as he sent a wink in your direction. You squirmed in your seat, heat burning across your body as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You looked around, seeing a few disapproving looks in your direction as they seemed to notice your interaction with him. You gave a look of apologies as you turned to look back at Elvis as he jogged off to huddle in the circle with his fellow football players.

The game picked up soon after, Elvis standing out as he carried the rest of the game with touchdowns like you had never seen. He was on top of his game, you knowing that he wanted to impress you. You were thoroughly impressed; clapping everytime that Humes scored a touchdown. The game ended with Humes coming out on top, staying in your seat as everyone exited the stadium, grimaces covering everyone that sat in your section’s faces. You stayed seated in your seat, covering your arms with your sweater as the weather had suddenly chilled over. Elvis was walking across the field after speaking with his coach, smiling widely as he neared where you were sitting. “I’m glad that you could make it, sugar.” You chuckled, standing up from where you were sitting before leaning over the railing. “I wouldn’t miss you whooping up on Washington Heights for anything in the world. They are some cocky boys.”

Elvis laughed, reaching his hand out to help from the stands as he led you out the stadium. The parking lot was mainly empty at that point, spotting his car at the edge of the lot. He opened the car door to you, allowing you to enter before he walked around the driver’s side. You unlocked his door for him once again, giggling as he looked over at you with a smirk. “You really never fail to amaze me, sugar. I’ve got the best girl in all of Memphis.” You rolled your eyes as he peeled out of the parking lot, heading towards Beale Street. “You’re just saying that, I’m not that great.” Elvis looked over at you, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are better than great, mama. You’re magnificent, you’re beautiful, and I’ll show you just how much.” You ended up at Red’s again, smiling as Beatrice saw you once again. She was thrilled to see that you were with Elvis, shaking her head as you sat in a booth near the back.

Beatrice didn’t need to ask what you wanted, immediately letting the cook know what to prepare. As you waited for your food, Elvis would begin asking about how your week was; making compliments left and right about how beautiful you were. Beatrice appeared with your usual and his, leaving you both to your devices. You could barely finish your meal, the butterflies were competing with the food, so you decided to just sip on your milkshake instead. Elvis, however, finished his food and even asked if he could finish yours. You laughed, pushing your plate towards him. You knew that as an athlete, his appetite was bigger than yours. Beatrice came over with the check, winking down at you as Elvis paid. “You two have a wonderful night and please be safe out there. You two are so cute.” She took the money and the check, disappearing from your sight before you could respond.

“Our usual spot, sugar?” Elvis asked, catching you by surprise before you nodded your head and followed him out of the diner to his car. You arrived at the spot that he had taken you, blanket in his hand as he left his car lights on. You thought that it was beautiful during the day, but now that it was dark out, you were truly blown away. The fireflies that danced in the night were your favorite part. Elvis sat the blanket down on the grass, pulling you down to sit next to him. He was much closer than last time, his arm around your shoulder as he stared out to the water bank. “It’s beautiful out here, Elvis. I don’t know how I’ve never heard of this place, being born and raised in Memphis.” He hummed, his eyes lingering over you. “What? Do I have something on your face?” You grew embarrassed, starting to look away before he stopped you. He moved a stray hair away from your face that blew beneath the breeze before he leaned in, pressing his soft lips on yours.

You would usually pull away and slap the poor man who dared to pull moves on you, but Elvis was different. You leaned into his embrace, melting into his kiss as you held on to his letterman’s jacket. You shivered from the wind, but the heat between you was something that warms you up. Elvis pulled away from you, noticing how much you were shivering. He pulled off his jacket, sitting it across your shoulders as he pulled you into his arms. Nothing could destroy the moment that you were having with him, his scent driving you crazy. As time went on, the only thing that you two would do was share kisses and talk about your dreams. Elvis told you that he wanted to be a singer, if his football career didn’t work out. You were blown away from his revelation, smiling at how dreamily he looked as he talked about his aspirations. “That’s great, Elvis. I hope everything works out for you. You deserve it.” Elvis could say nothing at your words, pulling you on top of him as he laid back on the blanket. His lips captured yours once again, but this time it was heated.

You groaned against his lips, straddling his lap as he moved his hands up your back. “You are really unlike any other woman I’ve ever met. Would– I-I, shit.” He stuttered over his words, his face turning red as a tomato. “Would you be my girl, Y/N?” He asked, his breath blowing in your face. You giggled at his bashfulness, nodding your head as you pressed your lips against his again. “Yes, I’ll be your girl, Elvis.” Everything that you were scared about, everything that worried you, had all disappeared in that moment as you could only focus on Elvis. “I should get you home, but I wanna see ya again, baby.” You nodded immediately, so enamored with him that you would agree with almost anything he asked. He helped you back to his car, throwing the blanket in the backseat as he took you home.

He parked in his normal spot, pulling you into his arms as he pressed his lips to yours one last time before he bid you goodbye. “Goodnight, sugar. Dream of me, okay?” You scoffed, turning away from him as you tried to catch your breath. He was truly different from any other man that you had met, but yet he made you feel like a little school girl who had her first crush. “We will see about that.” You started to take off his jacket, but he stopped you. “Keep it, baby. You’re my girl now.” You nodded, folding the jacket over your arm as you exited the car. He watched you as you walked up to your door, before he pulled away from the street, disappearing from your view. You sighed dreamily, opening the front door before stopping dead in your tracks. Your father was home and he looked upset. “Where have you been, Y/N?” He asked, tapping his foot as his arms crossed. “I told you that I was out with Velma, daddy. We went down to Red’s for dinner.”

“I called Velma because you left your clutch at home. She told me that she wasn’t with you. Try again.” You mentally cursed Velma, mentally noting to tell her off when you saw her at school on Monday. “And who was that white boy out there? Y/N, you know better than to be dealing with the whites!” Your daddy raised his voice at you, never having done so before. You sucked in a breath, crossing your arms as you glared at him. “Daddy! There’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing. Those damned segregation laws are the problem! Elvis is sweet and you would like him! He’s a gentleman and he likes me for me, he doesn’t see color and neither do I.” Your daddy was shocked, pacing around the room at that time. You had never seen him so angry before, but you knew that he would eventually find out so it was better to rip the bandaid off now. “Do you know that if the law saw you out with that boy, you would be in trouble? Or worse, you would be killed?! I know you think that you’re doing nothing wrong, little bee, but you are breaking the law! Elvis is breaking the law! I will not have my daughter arrested or killed because of some high school love that won’t even last after you graduate! You’re not seeing him anymore, do you understand me?!”

“Daddy! I like him! I will see him again and there’s nothing that you can do to stop me! I’m not fighting with you about love when you were barely home while mama was laying in her bed withering away.” You screamed back at him, the tears flowing from your eyes as you let out every built up emotion that you bottled up. “I loved your mother, Y/N! I had to work to pay the bills and her hospital fees! You were only a child so you couldn’t work and she damn sure couldn’t work with all of the pain that she was in! You’re not seeing that Elvis boy again and I mean it!” You glared at him, brushing past him as you stormed up to your room, slamming the door after you. You laid on the bed as you sobbed into his jacket, his scent lulling you to sleep.

You spent the weekend up in your room, not wanting to speak to your father after the argument that you had with him. Monday finally rolled around; you stalked up to your locker as you saw Velma and Faith walking up to you. Velma wore a look of regret on her face, but you were so worn out that you didn’t have it in you to tell her off. Instead, you ignored her, stalking off to your first class. Once school was over, Velma pulled you aside as the students piled out of the building. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know that your daddy would call about your purse. I didn’t know what to say, it just slipped out.” She held your hand as Faith wrapped her arms around you. You said nothing, only sobbing as they pulled you into a hug. “He’s not letting me see Elvis anymore. I like him a lot, y’all. I don’t know what to do.” Velma pulled away from you, something flashing over her eyes before she masked it.

“I have an idea. Do you trust me, Y/N?” You nodded your head as you listened to her tell her plan. The rest of the week, you ignored your father, coming home from school going straight into your room for the rest of the day. Friday finally came and it was the time that Humes would play your school once again. You told your daddy that you were going to your game, he could only tell you to be careful as he knew that you were still upset with him. You weren’t really into your cheer routine, only stealing lingering glances in Elvis’ direction as he moved around the field. When half time rolled around, he walked over to you, a smile on his face. You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “What’s wrong, sugar? Are ya okay?” You shook your head, a stray tear falling down your cheek as you looked down at the ground. “My daddy knows about us. He won’t let me see you again.” Elvis sighed, knowing that the inevitable was coming. He knew that your father was worried about those laws, worried that his little girl would be in trouble for even looking at him.

“Don’t worry, sugar. Nothing will keep us from seeing each other, I’ll make sure of it.” You didn’t know what he meant, but you nodded your head as you held his hand in yours. Velma ran over to you, pulling you away from Elvis as her head turned towards police officers who were entering the stadium. “I’ll see ya later, sugar. Velma and I have a plan.” He raced back over to his side, sending a wink into your direction. As the game continued on, you could only think about the plan that Velma had concocted with your boyfriend. The game ended with Humes of course winning, but you didn’t care because you were anxious to see him again. Velma waited with you in the parking lot, tugging you towards Elvis as he walked out of the stadium with his things. “What is this plan that you two have? I can’t take the suspense.” Elvis wrapped his arms around your waist as he kissed your cheek.

“You’re coming with me to this party that my friends are throwing. There will be black folks there so don’t worry.” He smiled, Velma squealing as she looked over at you. “You must be crazy. My daddy will-,” Velma swatted at you, pushing you towards the car. “Come on, girl. Let loose for once. Your daddy will be fine.” You nodded as you got into the car with Velma, waiting for Elvis. The three of you peeled out of the parking lot, heading to the destination that the party was going to be held. The house was pretty huge, but Elvis wasn’t bluffing when he said that there would black people there. As you entered the house with them, you noticed a few people from your school and Washington Heights mingling with white people from Humes. Velma disappeared from beside you, mingling with one of Elvis’ friends as Elvis pulled you along with him through the crowd of people.

His friends roared with cheers as he neared them, passing a cup to him before smiling in your direction. “Red, George, this is my girl, Y/N. Y/N, this is Red West and George Klein, my good friends from Humes.” You waved hello, shyly looking away from them to take in the environment that you were in. As the party went on, your nerves went away as you decided to enjoy the party with Elvis. Elvis pulled you to the dancefloor, wrapping his arms around your waist as I’m In The Mood by John Lee Hooker played through the speakers. The music moved through your body, wrapping your arms around Elvis as you grind your body against him. He held on to your waist, your hips dipping slightly as the dancing around you was provocative. You turned around, arm still wrapped around his neck as your body slid down his body. Your breath hitched as his hips pressed firmly against your ass, rolling his hips against you as his raspy breath fanned on your neck. It was pure sex, the feeling of being so close to Elvis made you feel invigorated.

When the song ended, you heard Velma cough from beside you as she winked in your direction, dancing with one of his friends. Elvis turned you around to face him, pressing his lips to yours as a slow song played over the speakers. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, swaying with him as your lips moved over his. You were happy, truly overjoyed that you agreed to come to this party with him. “I think I’m fallin’ in love with ya, sugar.” He whispered against your lips as you stared into his eyes. “I think I am too, Elvis. I think I am too.” The moment didn’t last long as the door pushed open, police running into the house. Elvis took you by the hand, leading you towards the back of the house. Everyone was scrambling to get out of the house, officers grabbing a few people from Washington Heights, batons in hand. You were truly scared, looking up at Elvis as he looked down at you with his own fear across his features.

“Elvis, what are we gonna do?” You heard Velma scream as a police officer grabbed her by the arm. You ran up towards Velma, placing your hand into hers as you tried to pull her away. The police officer raised his baton at the two of you, a scream leaving your lips as you knew that this was it. Elvis appeared by your side, pushing the police officer away from you as he took you by the hand, running out of the house. Velma was behind you, her dress ripped from the altercation. “Get in the car, Velma. Sugar, get in the car!” Elvis screamed, hopping into his cadillac as he peeled from the house. Velma was in the backseat crying softly while the ride was silent. You were deathly afraid, knowing that as long as you were around Elvis; there wouldn’t be peace for either of you. Elvis placed his hand on top of yours, squeezing your hand as he looked at you.

He dropped Velma off at her house, her eyes showing sorrow at the scene that unfolded tonight, telling you that she would see you at school the next day. You nodded, pulling her into a hug before she went inside of her house. “I don’t think you should go home, sugar. The police will probably be looking for you.” He sighed, before finishing what he was saying. “Me too.” He peeled off towards Beale, the night seemingly dragging on as the two of you were like fugitives on the run. He managed to find a hotel in Beale, checking in as he led your shaking form to the room. “What are we gonna do, Elvis? I’m sure that we are gonna be in a world of trouble when our families realize that we are together.” Elvis shook his head as he sat on the bed, sighing out. “My parents are going to be more worried about me being out all night. They don’t like these laws either, sugar. Besides, I told them about ya already. They only want me to be happy, they don’t care what color you are.”

Elvis seemed angry, quite fed up about the events that happened but he was more worried about you. He pulled you on his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist as he looked up at you. “Let’s just wait it out here, sugar. I’ll take ya home in the morning.” You nodded your head, putting the thought of the anger that your father would have at the back of your mind. You looked down at him, his blue eyes burning a fire inside of you as you leaned down to kiss his lips. He returned your kiss, moving his hand up your thigh as he laid you back on the bed. Your lips moved against him as he crawled on top of you, the heat of the moment mixed with the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins pushed you forward as you moaned against his mouth. He slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring every part of you as his hands moved slowly up your dress. You weren’t worried or scared about what would happen between you as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt. You pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, his soft skin burning under your touch.

He pushed your dress up your hips, moving his lips from yours as he kissed down your jawline before reaching your neck. You moaned out in pleasure, running your fingers down his shoulders as you tilted your head back to allow him more access to your skin. “Are you sure you wanna do this, sugar? We can stop, I-I ain’t trying to take advantage of ya.” You pressed your finger against his lip to stop him from speaking as you nodded your head. “I’m ready, Elvis. I love you.” You whispered as he looked into your eyes again before he moved your finger from his lips. He pressed chaste kisses to your fingers before he kicked his shoes off of his feet, helping you take your dress off of your body. You pressed your lips to his once again, the passion burning as he took in your body.

“You’re so beautiful, sugar. So beautiful.” He whispered as he pulled down your panties from your hips, throwing them on the floor where his shirt lay. He sucked in a breath, eyes widening at how beautiful you looked. He kissed down your body, pulling your legs up to lay over his shoulders as he kneeled in front of the bed. He kissed your thighs softly, nipping and biting at your skin. “You taste so sweet, baby. Everything that I’ve ever wanted.” His tongue ran a stripe across your pussy, a long moan passing your lips as you threw your head back in ecstasy. He moaned against your pussy, tongue circling around your throbbing bud as he slid one of his fingers inside of you. The burning sensation took your breath away, but it wasn't as overwhelming as you thought it would be. He groaned at how tight you felt around his finger, pumping it in and out of you slowly.

You gasped as he wrapped his lips around your bud, sucking softly as he continued fingering you. “Elvis, please. I need more.” You whimpered as he pulled away from you, looking into your brown eyes as he nodded his head. He stood up from his position on the floor, unbuckling his trousers as he slid them off of his body. Your eyes widened at the bulge that was prevalent in his underwear. He pulled his underwear down, discarding it to the side before he climbed on top of you. His lips pressed to yours in a soft kiss, humming against your lips as he continued staring into your eyes. You were falling into a sea of love, nothing could get you out. He aligned himself at your entrance, pushing slowly inside of you. You hissed out in pain, the burning sensation now overwhelming you as you held on to his shoulders. His hands caressed your body, lips peppering kisses along your jaw as he pushed into you to the hilt. He didn’t move, in fact, he waited for you to tell him that you were ready.

The burning didn’t last long, turning into pleasure as he was inside. You nodded your head, giving him the green light to continue. He slowly grinds his hips against you, his cock buried deep inside of you as he laces his fingers with yours. He was sensual, eyes darkening as he moved his hips slowly inside of you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting his body closer to you. He moaned in your ear, pressing kisses to your ear lobe before he whispered that he loved you. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as his words touched your heart. “Faster please, Elvis.” You whined, squeezing at his hands. He sped up his thrusts, his eyes still staring into yours as he smiled softly. There was no place he would rather be than with you, his smile sending butterflies into your soul. He grunted out in pleasure, not sure if he would be able to last. He didn’t want to hurt you, ensuring that with every thrust that you were comfortable.

You moaned out in pleasure, pulling your hands from his before placing them on his cheeks. You pulled him down to kiss him, groaning out in pleasure as he hit spots that you didn’t know felt so good. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I love you and I’ll protect you with everything that I got.” He whispered against your lips as he continued his thrusts inside of you. The love that you shared at that moment was beautiful, not once thinking about the consequences that being with each other held. “I’m not gonna last long, baby. Is that alright?” He asked, pulling away from your lips as his hips stayed at the same pace. “That’s alright baby, me either.” The coil in your stomach was pulling apart, your world spiraling as your orgasm washed over you. You moaned loudly, pressing your lips to his once again as he chased his own pleasure.

Elvis grunted as he came shortly after, covering your walls with his essence as he kissed you firmly. “God, I love you, baby. I love you so much.” He whispered as he came down from his high, pulling you into his arms as the both of you laid in the bed, spent and madly in love with one another. The silence in the room was oddly comforting to you, almost as if you were at home with Elvis. Elvis looked over at you with a weak smile on his face, kissing your forehead as he thought about what laid in the next few days for the both of you after tonight was over. “I think I should talk to your father about us. I know you don’t wanna hear that, sugar but I love ya. I think that he should hear it from me.” You were stunned, but nevertheless, you agreed.

The next morning, you and Elvis headed to your house. You were sure that your father was angry, his daughter wasn’t home. You took him by the hand as you walked with him to your front door. The front door swung open before you could open it, the look on your father’s face was a look of relief that you were safe. He looked over at Elvis, eyes widening as he looked back at you with disbelief on his features. “Y/N, you deliberately disobeyed me and you didn’t come home last night. I was worried sick!” He glared at you. “Daddy, I was out with Elvis and Velma last night after the game. We went to a party, but the police broke it up. Elvis figured we would be safe somewhere until they were off of our trail.” Your daddy walked inside of the house, not saying a word. You looked at Elvis as you led him inside. “I know I’m not gonna be able to keep you away from him, little bee. But, you have to be careful.” He sobbed from the chair as he put his face in his hands.

Elvis stood in front of your father, getting down on his knee as he was face to face with him. “Sir, I want to apologize. It was my fault that all of this happened, but I’m serious when I say that I love your daughter. You may not think that we don’t know anything about love, that we are young. But, I love her. I have never loved anybody like this other than my mother.” Your father’s eyes looked up at Elvis, shaking his head. “What are you gonna do when the police find out about the two of you? How–How are you gonna keep my little girl safe?” His voice broke as he stared down the man that you loved. “Sir, I will put my life on the line for your daughter. I know you’re worried about these laws that they have in place, but I am willing to fight beside her for as long as I live. The laws won’t stop me from seeing her. I won’t stop seeing her, I love her. I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting her in harm's way, but it ain’t ever happening again.”

You sat on the other side of your father, rubbing his back as he sobbed in his hands. “I promised her mother that I would protect her. This world isn’t safe for people like us, Elvis. You can walk and do as you please, but not little bee. She’s judged everyday for her skin and it wasn’t even her fault.” Elvis sighed as he patted your father’s knee. “Sir, I can’t speak for others but for me, I don’t see color. My family doesn’t see color. We were raised in black neighborhoods because we are poor. We are no better to them than leeches, but I want to give your daughter a better life. We will fight for people to see that love doesn’t know color or money. Even if we are poor for the rest of our lives, Y/N will never have to want for anything. I’ll work my fingers to the bone to assure you and her that I can take care of her and love her properly.”

Your father nodded his head as he looked over at you. “Is this what you want, little bee?” His eyes from the tears in his eyes as he waited for your response. “I want to be with Elvis, daddy. I love him and he loves me. I don’t care about what people think about us, I just want to be happy. I know that mama would want me to be happy and I know that you do too.” He stared at you for a while before looking over at Elvis who looked scared at what would come out of this conversation. “Alright Elvis, you best protect my little girl or I will take her back from you and you will never see her again.” He put his hand out, Elvis shaking it firmly as he nodded his head. “I will protect her as long as I live, sir. Thank you for trusting me with her.” Your father stood up from his chair, patting Elvis on this shoulder before kissing your forehead. “I’m going to bed, I’ve been up all night wondering where you’ve been. I’m tired.” He weakly said as he disappeared from the room, leaving you in the living room with Elvis.

Elvis sighed out as he pulled you into his arms. ��What happens now, Elvis?” You asked, nuzzling your face into his chest. “We will have to begin the fight for our love, sugar. I graduate next year, so I want to marry you. I know that we can’t get married here, but we can go anywhere that will allow us to get married. I wanna pick up music, but I will work until something happens. I just wanna take care of ya.” He placed his lips on yours as he held you in his arms. You were afraid, not sure how you could pull this off but you didn’t question it. All you could do was wait until Elvis graduated next year to see how your life with him would begin. You were willing to wait as long as you could, willing to put up with the stupid segregation laws until it was time. As long as you had Elvis, you could wait as long as time permitted. “I love you, sugar. I’ll do anything to pledge my love to ya. Football doesn’t mean a thing to me now that I have you.” You nodded your head as you held onto him and he held onto you.

True enough, Elvis graduated the following year. He took up a job at Crown Electric as an apprentice electrician. He even decided to go record a few songs down at Sun Records. You and your father had grown close with his family, having dinners at their home. His mother, Gladys, adored you. She even told Elvis that she didn’t want any other girl to be her daughter other than you. One summer day, Elvis told you to dress in something white. You didn’t know what he had planned, but he did. You two made the long trip up to Ohio for the weekend, where he made true to his promise to make you his wife. You still had to keep it secret, the only people knowing that you were marrying were his family, your father, and your friends Velma and Faith. You were happy, finishing high school the following year as Elvis was starting to gain traction with his music. You moved into his new home with his family, leaving your father scared about letting his little girl go.

You were sad to leave him behind, but he wasn’t far from you. Elvis did everything that he promised your father, never letting you have to want for anything. You stayed at home with Gladys, keeping up the home like a good little housewife. Elvis was happy that everything was going according to his plan, showing you everyday how much he loved and cherished you. Time would change, you would like to believe. You didn’t know how long it would take, but you were willing to wait to finally be able to be in public with your husband, share in his newfound stardom. For now, you would be happy to stay at home while he was out ensuring that his family was taken care of. As long as you had Elvis, time could continue ticking forward. You had all the time in the world to be with him and that was what kept pushing you on.

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