Tumpik
#shl
annannjay · 2 days
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gu xiang my beloved,,,,
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galacticlycoris · 2 days
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I didn't know how or when you would come. But I knew you would definitely come.
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uweiy · 15 days
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🌈Them gay shows 🌈
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Finally did it guys! BL Drama recommendations flowchart catered to me. Me only. ME people who might have the same taste as me. Enjoy
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ashinlae · 21 days
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Word of Honor 山河令 | Episode 8
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akatsuki-shin · 4 months
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censorship: “dis too gay, cut it from the show”
fansite: “no worries, fam, we got yo covered”
(Cr. 并蒂·1129x0511)
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shweenie · 12 days
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Experimenting is fun ~
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lucrezia-dormentaire · 2 months
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ailee-art · 2 months
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My piece for the 四季花 Siji Hua zine
Kinda can’t believe it’s only been 7 months. A lot has changed, but I am still mostly happy with this one! Thank you to the other contributors who hung out and helped, it was a lot of fun and a great experience, I will remember it fondly 😊
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thatgothsamurai · 11 months
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I want to especially thank wenzhou for making my 2021 a whole lot better😌🌸
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pzxce · 20 days
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[add here the lyrics for hozier's in a week]
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unforth · 24 days
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Heyo Danmei Fans and Twitter Refugees!
Do you love danmei? Do you love fanart?
WELL HAVE I GOT THE SIDEBLOGS FOR YOU!
Hi, I'm unforth, and I also love danmei and fanart, and I wanted to just make a huge gorgeous pile of art and roll around in it so I've made and run for years eight, yes eight, side blogs of danmei art, all with the kind of organization and searchability that twitter can only dream of.
So, if you want to flood your dash with fanart (or if you're an artist and want a little assist getting more eyes on your work now that you're posting here - you can DM me or @/me), why not consider giving a follow to...
Mo Dao Zu Shi/Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation/The Untamed: @mdzsartreblogs
Tian Guan Ci Fu/Heaven Official's Blessing/Eternal Faith: @tgcfartreblogs
Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong/Scum Villain's Self-Saving System/Scumbag System: @svsssartreblogs
Erha he Ta de Bai Mao Shizun/The Husky and His White Cat Shizun/Hao Yi Xing and Yuwu/Stains of Filth: @erhaartreblogs
Daomu Biji/The Graverobber's Chronicles/The Lost Tomb/Too Many Other Names to List: @dmbjartreblogs
Zhenhun/Guardian: @zhenhunartreblogs
Tian Ya Ke/Faraway Wanderers/Word of Honor and Qiye/Lord Seventh: @tykartreblogs
Literally Everything Else I Can Find (especially works by Meng Xi Shi, works by Priest, manhua on Bilibili, books by Fei Tian Ye Xiang, books by Please Don't Laugh (so yes, baihe too!), and so much more): @cnovelartreblogs
All blogs run on a queue; I post at a "the queue will last for 7 days" rate that changes more-or-less every day and varies from 30 to 40 posts a day (mdzsartreblogs) down to 1 to 2 posts a day (zhenhunreblogs) and everything in between.
Note that these spaces are all ship and let ship, don't like don't interact, and pro-kink. (I won't reblog everything, but I do reblog almost everything, and even if I'm personally too uncomfortable with something to reblog it - I SUPPORT YOU.) I tag extensively - you can check the pinned post on each blog for currently used trigger warnings (they're consistent across all the blogs) and many of the other tags I use for characters, ships, etc., and I strongly encourage you to use the tags to find That Rare Thing You Love, and also to blacklist anything that's not your thing. Antis kindly fuck off challenge.
Welcome to Tumblr (or welcome back, as the case may be), don't be a stranger, like and reblog works to support artists, and have fun!
(help signal boosting much appreciated. <3 )
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annannjay · 2 days
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graceful cat vs giant puppy
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Sky High Lovin’
70’s | Part 1 of an anthology taking place aboard Elvis’ jets throughout the eras
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Summary: you really want a summary of this filth when you’ve seen the photographs that inspired it?! Ok ok, for those of you who missed that part, this is a love letter to 70’s Elvis aboard his jet. Sorry for the blatant Linda Thompson erasure, I like to pretend I was there instead -if I can dream, and all that….
Pairing: reader x Big Daddy Elvis (70’s, year not specified, pick your poison)
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: (18+ only) 70’s Elvis plane sex?! smut, oral m. receiving, tea bagging, uh, penetrative sex, unwholesome usages of cigars, soooo much teasing alluded to beforehand, semi public play of fingering, copious uses of “daddy” and “little one” but the gal isn’t being infantilized. Tones and illusions to consensual possessiveness throughout and a mention of virginity loss. Tiny bit of angst woven throughout and a mention of incessant touring and physical dissatisfaction. (blink and you’d miss it) As for dynamics…these babies are switching all over the place, there are morsels of sub!Elvis in here -that’s less a warning and more a treat.
Author Won’t Shut Up: I will throw this one little piece of my mind out here and forever hold my peace. Regarding loving Elvis and even desiring him as his health declined: I can only speak for myself, but let me just say that as a young woman who has at one time dealt with a protracted and life threatening health condition, one thing I desperately needed during that time was love and even sexual affirmation, PARTICULARLY when I felt like a sack of rubbish. Your own body can become foreign to you and you can easily fall into despising it as it “let’s you down”. Then there’s the pitying or mocking perspectives everyone has regarding your condition to compound it all, taking away your dignity. Such perspectives made Elvis hurt and angry at the time and I refuse to view him that way now, much as my heart aches for him. He’s still the same boy from Memphis and personally, I adore him. Cheers, Marina
Notes: It would seem that typically he didn’t wear his jumpsuits onto the planes? But there are a few pictures of him doing so, as well as interacting with fans before he boards and so I incorporated that. Let’s all ignore any inaccuracies in here and focus on what we came here for…🤯 Also, grammar and spelling where sacrificed, as usual with me, on the alters of time and sexiness
Together, Wendy, we can live with the sadness
I'll love you with all the madness in my soul
Oh, someday girl, I don't know when
We're gonna get to that place
Where we really want to go, and we'll walk in the sun
There is a well oiled routine to this whole procedure of leaving one place and flying off to the next -as routine as anything can be in the life of Elvis Presley- and you have perfected your part in it.
You are in the limo sitting pretty when he exits the building fresh off a show, and you keep your face pleasant in the glare of a hundred flashing cameras, making certain always to give him your hand to squeeze as soon as he crashes into the seat beside you and battles for breath as the scenery outside begins to blur. If it’s truly a rough day you are at the ready with chilled water and a fresh towel and soothing words that have his eyes slowly opening and twinkling in fondness that he’s got you there to dote on him. And then there’s days like today when he’s got an ornery streak left in him after his performance, and it comes out in the quirk of his brow and the hand on your thigh and the shit eating grin that acknowledges he left you hanging in his dressing room five seconds from achieving an orgasm on his sturdy thigh. Stage call just had to sound right then and for once in his life he decided to be punctual, leaving you a squirming, desperate mess of a woman.
“Where’ve those hands been while I was out entertainin’ the folks?” he asks you as his tongue flicks out to wet his lip and you give him a demure smile even as your eyes roll in exasperation.
“They’ve been right by my side, big daddy, as you well know.” you tap your manicured finger against his lips and he gives it a wet smooch.
“What did I do to get me such a well behaved little girl, hmmm?”
“Being as sweet as peaches and cream to me.” you giggle and lean into get your kiss, the one he always gives you when you reunite, no matter how short the separation, your hands cupping his soft face, sideburns ticking your palms, all his soulful devotion pouring into you though his lips.
And sometimes, on days like this one, the well worn routine has him slipping a hand under your short dress, fingers unsurprised to find you bare as he is the one who insured you would be, bejeweled fingers gently rubbing and swirling amongst your slick, unhurried and possessive as he cups your heat and focuses on deepening the kisses until Lamar lets out a discreet cough whilst lowering the divider to inform you both that the airport -and the inevitable crowd at it- is near.
Even here you know your place, letting him hand you out of the car in front of dozens of photographers and fans, as if you can’t feel the tacky film of your juices still on the hand extended to you in so gentlemanly a fashion. You keep your expression wide eyed and privileged, meekly shadowing him as he gives and gives himself away to the bystanders, his fatigue growing but his heart blooming under these personal interactions. You make conversation as well when the opportunity arises, conscious always that how you act and speak and interact with his fans reflects on him, and if there’s one thing the both of you know about this little alliance of yours, it’s that you live to make him proud, just as he lives to please you. So you stay composed and obliging even as you meet his bright eyes through his tinted shades, thinking in amusement at how well behaved you are, both of you knowing that you’ve been bent over his knee many times in the early days for displaying impatience at such times.
Besides, soaking and needy as you are, you know that your underwear (that he swiped off of you beneath the breakfast table this morning) is burning a whole in his skin where he tucked the silk scrap into his jumpsuit. Serves him right for leaving you hanging like that. He would never have done that a few months ago, but that was before a whole lotta of love and trust got built, back before he learned you were in it for Elvis the man and not the icon, that he could come to you worn out or irrational and you’d accept him, that you took the whole of him in stride. That you didn’t have to be fucked out of your mind constantly in order to ensure your loyalty. The fact he’d leave you hanging meant a great deal, spoke volumes about his trust in you and his return of confidence in teasing -and you that made you happy and settled as you slowly worked your way through the crowd and up the ramp. His hand was warm and heavy on your hip as he gave one last wave to the gathered throng below and then ducked into the Lisa Marie with you, a sunny little shadow beside him.
At this point you had a routine you’d carved out yourself. You would urge him as far back into the depths of the flying mansion as possible, the further he went the more conducive the furniture was to sleeping. This time he got as far as the lounge before settling himself down heavily on the green velvet couch and that was your cue to bring him his cigars and Coca Cola. You acted the hostess on board because while he grabbed at you to pull you onto his lap every time you skipped by him, he sure did look at you proudly as you shuffled his buddies around and saw that every comfort was provided him. Sensing his exhaustion, you suggest a movie be started on the television and by the time the jet takes off, the whole gaggle of hellraisers are quiet as church mice for once as the opening score from East of Eden begins to play.
Peace having been ensured, you allow yourself to curl up next to the welcoming heat of him, dragging a throw blanket with you for your lap as it wouldn’t do to flash his friends due to the shortness of the pretty little number he chose for you this morning. Immediately he brings you further into him somehow, his arms looping around you as you melt into the comforting breadth of him. You lay your cheek against his chest and feel the rough embroidery of his jumpsuit’s deep neckline against your face, his sweat and curly hairs almost adhering you to his tacky chest. There is no safer spot in the world and, contented, you watch James Dean suffer and emote through the one eye left you. Elvis’ giant hand burns your thigh where he rests it, his soothing little circles slowly creeping higher, until he feels how wet they are, your pantyless cunt weeping down them for want of his attention. You get it at last. Hand moving under the blanket, his ringed fingers swipe through your wetness and this is an old game, staying quiet in front of his friends as he fingers you. Like with everything else he requires of you, your behavior is immaculate, face impassive and moans silenced, but no amount of devotion can suppress the flush rising in your cheeks or stop your throat from swallowing down, again and again, the thanks you want to crown him with.
Reluctantly you raise yourself off his chest to sit up straighter, cross-legged and nestled into his side, a little more leverage gained to grind ever so subtly on the fingers worrying your clit. In typical Elvis fashion he is multitasking even now, working you to a frenzy beside him even as he waxes eloquently on his passion for storytelling and films and it never ceases to amaze you how multifaceted his is.
When he catches you studying him adoringly at this moment he huffs out a quiet little; “what is it?”
“I just think I feel the same way about watching you as you feel about Dean’s talent.” you whisper this for his ears only and he gives you a bashful smile, kissing your forehead. It’s funny to you that he can create wholesome moments no matter the scenario.
The movie is reaching its crescendo and your very physical frustration is also beginning to mount, hours of teasing since you woke up finally making you consider a career as a brat. It’ll get you nothing from him but a sound spanking, so you just work your hips against his hand harder in a silent plea for more. It’s a risk to be so demanding while he is so absorbed in the film but he’s a generous man and you’re his weak spot, his sugar pie, his sunshine, so he aims to help you. He glances around to make sure no one is watching as he grabs the spare cigar provided and brings it down under the blanket. You’re not sure what you expected him to do with it but nudging it against your core was not it. You let out a little gasp which could have been taken as a reaction to the moving scenes on the tv but he is quick to press his lips to your ear, kissing the shell of it while murmuring,
“C’mon litttl’en, keep it together. Daddy’s gonna help ya out, open up for me.”
You do open yourself as best you can, legs spreading further beneath the blanket, pelvis tilting and core relaxed like you have learned to do when he takes you deep. And you wouldn’t have known how to do that a few months ago if it hadn’t been for him, teaching you how to accommodate his big cock in your fresh hole and even then, if someone had told you all those months ago that you’d be obligingly taking a cigar up your pussy in an effort quench your constant need for his attentions -even you would have told them to get lost. But instead, as he slides it home through your soaking folds and up inside you, you can feel the tips of his fingers against your hole, holding the last inch so that he says low and husky:
“So needy baby, careful now, we wouldn’t want yer pretty pussy to suck it in all the way and we loose it, would we?”
“No daddy.” you agree in a wrecked whisper and you see him bite back his smile.
He’s got a point, your cunt is frantically milking the pathetic girth of the Cuban, delighted to have something pressed against your walls at last. It’s not enough but still, a little prelude orgasm shakes through you and he doesn’t miss either your shuddering or the warm slick against his fingers. When you glance over at him, his cherubic lips are tugged up in a smirk and it’s so unabashedly debauched an image with his sweaty hair, jeweled choker and coal rimmed eyes behind his shades that your pussy quivers again and he nudges the cigar back and forth as his grin spreads -in direct contrast to the heart rending melodrama unfolding in the last minutes of the film.
The second the screen fades to black and the credits begin to roll, Elvis immediately brings his other hand to cup your jaw and brings you in for a kiss, his other hand still wiggling the damn cigar. It’s a passionate, sloppy kiss full of intent and you sense more than observe the more discreet members of the entourage ushering the less respectful ones out into the forward cabin, well used to this portion of the whole routine as well.
“Close the curtain Jerry and turn on the stereo.” Elvis pulls away from your lips to instruct Jerry every time, as if the man himself wasn’t extremely eager to drown out the noise of you and Elvis going at it like bunnies.
Alone at last, Elvis turns towards you in his seat and heaves a big breath before seizing the blanket’s edge and swiping it off you with all the flourish of a matador. He bends over in his seat to inspect your glistening cunt and the mess you’re making on his velvets seats with a pleased glimmer in his eye, letting go of the cigar to watch the way the little brown nub of it bobs in your clenching hole. His eyes flick up to yours and his smile is so damn boyish when he grins like that and asks,
“Now, where were we, little one?”
“We was about to cum, sweet daddy, but then my man left me hangin’.” you tell him solemnly and his grin grows naughtier still as he catches onto your game.
“He didn’?!” he gasps appalled, eyes widening in disbelief. “What a wicked thing to do.”
“I’ve been dripping and needing him ever since.” you say, making your tone plaintive even as you worry his belt buckle must hurt him the way it’s digging into his belly as he leans over to watch your pussy.
“Aww, poor little one.” he pouts for you, “Tell you what, I can’t speak for the man whose left ya like this, but I reckon I could solve your plight if that sounds appealin’ to ya.”
“Oh I don’t know about that.” you feign concern and he’s lapping up your little act, tongue poking between his lips. “I can’t just go about sleeping around with just anybody, ya know? I’m a good girl really, I’ve been so good even with how bad I’ve needed to be filled up.”
“You are filled up sugar.” he grunts as he reaches to tap the cigar a little further in.
“Not enough.” you whine. “Need a man with some girth to him, badly.”
“Hmm, well, a man who’d leave a lady as delectable as you hangin’ deserves to come back to find ya dripping with my cum. You want that don’t you? Wanna be my girl? ‘Cause you need me to take ya deep and good, don’t ya? Give in honey and let big daddy give it to ya good, take good care of ya like you deserve.”
Months and months ago you two had a similar conversation and you blurt your answer just as readily as you did then, “Yes, only want you. Only need you.”
“Now you’re seeing sense.” he smiles fond and wicked, and you drag him up for kiss by his choker, it’s heated and full of tongues and moans, your hand wiggling into his jumpsuit to pet his hairy chest. “What’s my little girl in the mood for?” he asks as you writhe beside him, his heavy hands trailing fire along your body through your dress.
“Wanna ride you, daddy.” you tell him eagerly, “I wanna make you feel so good, show you how much I love you, how lucky I know I am. You comfy here?”
“Aww sugar, you spoil me.” thumbing your cheeks, “Here is perfect but daddy’s gonna need a little help gettin’ goin’. Can my needy girl wait that long? Or ya need my mouth first? You been so good for me, deserve a little reward.”
“Tasting you will be my reward.” you insist, giving him a kiss.
“Alright,” he sounds skeptical but you’re relieved that he isn’t going to fight you this once, letting himself get loved on without objection. “But you gotta be good and keep my cigar all tight up in ya, can you do that honey? Gotta keep my little woman prepped for me.”
You sit up and move to slide off the couch and it takes all your faithful kegel practice to keep it in, but you succeed and kneel in front of his spread legs. He always has the most imposing stance when he sits and there is no effort required for you to summon a little awe and thrill at the prospect of caressing him so intimately.
“Take off your dress baby.” he commands gently, and you knew that was coming as soon as your knees hit the plush carpet. He can’t get enough of the naked beauty of you, he buys you every little luxury to bedeck yourself in but by the end of an evening they are always stripped away so he can watch your soft form ripple and move for him in nothing but the charms God gave you.
Kneeling naked before him with the cool cabin air perking up your nipples, it makes you very conscious of the conversations and footfalls right behind the curtain, stereo faintly blurring it all. But your sweet man needs you now and you won’t let your discomfiture show. You are easily distracted anyway by the delicious task of reaching inside his ornate jumpsuit neck and grasping the hidden zipper. It’s a tease for both of you as you slowly undo his suit, it gapes and shows you his nipples and the sweaty hair there, down and down over the beautiful peachy skin of his soft belly and you press kisses to every inch of him he can’t accept himself as you pull the zipper lower and lower. Lower until you spy what you’re after, gently reaching for him, bringing his soft cock and his large stones over the lip of the jumpsuit crotch, shooting him a eager grin as you reach beneath his belly to nuzzle him.
Hemmed in by his sturdy thighs and his hand engulfing the one of yours not busy with fondling him, you are the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen. Fresh as springtime, alluring as sin and with a curiously effective penchant for sucking on his balls -he’d have to be a dead man not to respond to your coaxing mouth. He doesn’t begrudge you the triumphant glimmer in your bright eyes when he starts to swell minutes after he has already begun to moan from the heavenly feeling of your diligent tongue.
“Never knew a pretty girl who liked the taste of nuts so much.” he jokes and you giggle around your mouthful out of respect for his humor -but mostly to make him jerk from the shocking vibrations running through his sensitive sack. You’re in heaven here, surrounded by him, his hand rhythmically squeezing the side of your throat in encouragement and direction, like he does with his band. The mouthwatering, masculine smell of him floods your senses and sends you on a high once you finally take him in your mouth, throat opening to let him slide down and your nose getting tickled by his public hair, your forehead pressed against the heat of his stomach. He’s starting to grunt and thrust up as his motor starts to rev up, and you spy his eyelids beginning to droop behind his lavender tinted shades, praises falling from his puffy lips.
The approbation is starting to get to you as he keeps jabbing his swelling cock up into your mouth and you wiggle and writhe on the vibrating plane floor, cunt burning from keeping the cigar tight inside. He notices you wriggling around, his smirk turning a little mocking.
“Yer grinding on my carpets like a cat in heat, lil’ one.” he pushes your head down one last time, to really savor the feel of you gagging around him before he lets you up to breath.
You might be gasping and wheezing and desperate as hell but that doesn’t deter you from immediately finding a new way to please him, to keep his interest from flagging. As if anything could make it flag at this point, Elvis thinks, but you are right on one account -the sight of his cock sliding through the cleavage of your cupped breasts is most definitely a stirring sight.
You look so hopeful and proud kneeling down there in nothing but your birthday suit that he can’t wait any longer himself, patting your cheek and telling you, “Help me get out of this damn suit, baby, then I’ll fill up your poor pussy. Sound good, little one?”
“Hell yes.” you scramble to stand and offer him your hands as you both grunt in effort to get him out of the burrow he’s made for himself in the velvet cushions. He stands and lets you work the tight fabric down his legs, your stolen panties falling out of the waist as he shucks off the top part. When you go to get his remaining leg out of the fabric he pretends to fall from the mild turbulence -because he’s a bastard and likes to see you fucking panic over him.
“Not funny.” you swat at him though you’d let him terrify you perpetually if it would always make him let out one of those deep and joyous laughs at your expense.
“Shoulda seen the size of your eyes!” he wheezes as he flops back onto the couch stark naked and utterly inviting, “Wide as saucers they were.” he imitates your expression and you stick your tongue out at him, grabbing your panties from the floor and holding them threateningly,
“You want these in your mouth” you ask him in warning, “No? Then stop mocking me, if I loved you less I’d fuss less.”
“Alright, if that’s how it is.” he grins bashfully and standing before him you get the bright idea of putting your foot between his legs, pressing hard enough to make his own eyes widen in earnest. With your leg raised like this he can easily see the brown tip of his cigar nestled in your pink folds and you can see him lick his lips.
“Want your cigar back, daddy?” you ask him innocently, “Your other one has died out.”
“Yeah baby,” he nods, “give it here. Ya think it’ll light with you marinatin’ it this whole time?”
“It’ll be an experiment.” you laugh and pull it out with a shudder, a string of slick following it for an impossibly long distance as you raise it to his lips and nestle it between them. “If it does light you could send them a good review. Bet they’ll sell millions with that kind of testimonial.”
“Honey,” he says soberly, “I don’t want no one else thinkin’ of your pussy juices when they’re drawing on their damn cigars.”
“Alright then.” you concede as you grab his ornate lighter and flick it to flame, “It’ll be a science experiment between just you and me.”
“Well look at that.” he marvels as it does indeed light up and he starts smoking your essence. “Flavor is goddamn impeccable.” he grins and pats the firm expanse of his thighs, “Hop on baby girl, daddy’s got a treat for ya.”
Jerry has cranked the stereo up a notch, no doubt to hide Elvis’ appreciative groans and the seductive rhythm of Dave Brubeck’s Take Five fills the cabin and you shift the mood between you two from playful to beguiling as you roll your hips to the sonorous sound of that saxophone. You inch closer and closer until you're hovering and swaying over his lap like a stellar showgirl and he can’t believe that you’re the same gal who calls her parents every night and once considered being a kindergarten teacher as the height of earthly success. Now you’re his temptress and his sunshine, making him forget again and again with inexhaustible devotion all the reasons life should be unbearable.
You’re so close to him now and he chomps the cigar between his teeth once he feels you hold his stiff length in your smooth hand, holding him steady for you to gleefully impale yourself on. You’re utterly soaked and between that and the spit you dribbled all over him, the slide down to join together is completely effortless. So much so it takes you by surprise, white hot satisfaction ripping through you without warning as soon as he’s deep inside. You shake apart at that first stretch and he cradles you against his sweaty shoulder, encouraging you to bite down as you whimper from the sweet feeling of your first orgasm of the day. He’s got a handful of your ass and he squeezes it in a filthy little gesture of comfort cooing in your ear:
“That’s my insatiable little mama, fall apart for me, you’ve been so good for your daddy.” he starts to thrust up gently and slow as you pull your cheek up off his shoulder and steady yourself for what you know has just begun. “You’re so we’ll mannered and always so respectful to my fans, always representin’ me so well and you take my bullshit like a champ, you deserve to get your fill, baby. Take whatcha need.”
“Oh daddy, you’re beyond good to me.” you murmur, pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth that doesn’t have a damn cigar wedged in it. “Stretching me out so good, all I need is you in me to send me wild. I just wanna take this slow and let you ruin me.”
“Let’s dance then, baby.” he groans and those skillful hips start to swivel on the seat in a sensual rhythm to the drum solo and you are in heaven, nearly unhinged from the intensity of him slowly grinding deep within your belly, sparking against your tight walls.
Nuzzling into each other’s necks, you both agree you were made to fit together just like this -and it’s so very comforting for you here tucked into his broad frame, his arms wrapped around your little body as your legs work together to bring you down on him again and again, slow and deep and purposeful. Over his shoulder you can see through the window as clouds float by all puffy pink, looking like cotton candy in the sunset’s glare. It’s dreamy up here, just the clouds and a hopeful little girl and her generous daddy: this is your world, the one you both give each other and you point behind him to the clouds and cranes his neck to see what you’re seeing, taking off his glasses at last to catch the true coloring.
“Makes ya feel like Peter Pan up here, don’t it?” he sighs and you giggle in agreement.
Jerry mans the stereo again and Sam Cook’s optimistic voice and grooving beat shifts the atmosphere again, causing you both to laugh and give into the encouragement to move a little faster, a little more insistent and with a goal in mind. His fingers drift between your breasts and over your clenching belly and down to your clit, strumming it just the way he taught you to like it.
“Poor Sam, this can’t be the venue he had in mind for his music.” you bemoan as you shamelessly lean back to give him more room to work and begin to speed up, the smack your skin meeting his adding to the percussion.
“With lyrics like these? He’d be honored.” Elvis snorts and tosses his cigar into the tray before bringing a hand down to your hip to guide you into swaying and slamming down hard and measured on the thick length of him. “Exactly what other sort of soul soothin’ did you think he imagined would take all night long?”
“Good point.” you laugh as the air gets punched out of your lungs. “Sounds like a lawn party sort of song, though.”
“You young kids,” he huffs playfully, “ain’t got no sense of suggestiveness. This, dear, is a grinding song and you woulda known that if you had been with me in the early days at club handy.”
“Oh Lord, I woulda done anything to be there with you, daddy.” you whine.
“I’d have been the pretty boy in corner.” he laughs a little sadly, a little reminiscent, and you aren’t having it, leaning in to kiss him soundly and plunder his mouth for the taste of Coca Cola and tobacco.
“Now you’re the pretty boy inside me, isn’t that right?” you coax and he buries his face into your breasts to hide his blush but you can feel it burning your delicate skin and you can feel him start to stutter in his thrusts.
“That’s it Wendy,” he plays along as your fairytale begins to run out, his cheek pillowed on your heaving breasts and his eyes glazing over as the last strands of pink die out in the evening sky, “take us home, honey.”
You weave your hands into his hair and press him further to you, cradling his head as you work to get you both there with burning legs. You can hear him and smell him and feel him everywhere and the way he permeates your every sense has you reeling and babbling and telling him every filthy and devout thought you’ve ever had for him:
“Come for me pretty daddy, give it to me -I’ve worked hard for it, been dreaming of it with my eyes wide open all day. Wanna feel you dripping out of me. Wanna know I loved on ya good and thorough.”
Your breathless assurances send him as he bites down on your nipple and lets go, painting your walls with his hot seed. The searing pain in your breast and the grunting appreciation of the lovely man beneath you sends you over the edge, right behind him, your well used pussy milking his cock zealously.
“Oh sweet Lord, you’re somethin’ else.” he heaves into the damp skin of your neck. Gingerly you both maneuver to have him lay back all the way on the couch, you pillowed atop his sturdy frame with your nipples rubbing against his chest hair and his cock still nestled inside you.
You let out content little mewls as his hands roam your back soothingly, sleep beginning to tug you under and it’s a momentous effort in your drowsy state to get out what’s always on the tip of your tongue: “I love you, Elvis.”
“I love you little one.” his deep voice rumbles through you, not missing a beat.
You dream of puffy pink clouds over Graceland, golf cart racing on the lawn and brushing out the horses’ manes, a gaggle of children and an end to this never ending tour.
Masterlist
A toast to all of y’all who’s enthusiasm and naughtiness made this happen! Cheers and I love you! Part 2 is already begun, its theme so far is 60’s honeymoon sex aboard the Learjet… I am always open to more suggestions🥂🍾 I’m proud to be a founding member of the Big Daddy club and I want to thank @butlersxbirdy for running some of this fic through with me. Also a millions thanks to @foreverdolly for the moodboard photos, you’re a treasure.
Taglist, i so hope I got you all:
@headfullofpresley
@lindszeppelin
@foreverdolly
@ellie-24
@dkayfixates
@missmaywemeetagain
@avalon-moonlight
@heartbrake-hotel
@pearlparty
@butlersxbirdy
@notstefaniepresley
@cigaretess
@kendralavon7
@horror-movieshoes
@ab4eva
@stephthestallion
@samfangirls
@steph-speaks
@octobers-snow
@leanleather
@nemos-rapture
@polksalademma
@woundmetender
@eliseinmemphis
@avengen
@moonlitbanditqueen
@sournatromanoff
@moonchild-daniella
@powerofelvis
@loving-elvis
@p-oolshark
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moasb · 8 months
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thats how they flirt
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ashinlae · 22 days
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Where are you going???
↳ for @feanorianswelcome
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toaster-fire-art · 1 month
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I want what they have
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