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jhoneybees · 4 days ago

Note

Glad you like the songggg😋

Hi!!! Saw your ficmas post and I'd like to request a fic that's inspired by this song here:

It's so good and hehehe write Elvis however you want, smut or no smut🤭

Love your writing btw!❤️

12 Days of Ficmas

Day 8: Sexual

A/N: Again, I know it's way after Christmas, but I really wanted to write a dirty one-shot, so this happened. Also thank you for introducing me to this song because I LOVE IT. I want to make an edit to it eventually, but I haven't gotten there yet. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, this is a smut fest, kissing, fingering, oral for both, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, swallowing AND ejaculation, oh and Elvis is a virgin, the whole nine yards

Word count: ~2k

In January of 1956, Elvis is just starting to be known in places outside of Memphis. By the next Christmas, he won't be able to go anywhere without a mob of fans surrounding him. But right now, he's still free to move around town safely. You've known Elvis since high school and you always thought he was cute, but he's really come into his own in the last year or two. This means he finally has the courage to ask you out.

Just before his 21st birthday, he takes you ice skating. It's a thinly veiled excuse to keep his hands on you, but you don't mind. You love his touch and, quite frankly, you need more of it. At first, you slip on purpose so that he'll catch you, but you don't intend to fall all the way to the ice and he certainly doesn't intend to land on top of you. Or at least, you don't think he did. Either way, here you are, laid out flat on the freezing surface with him on top of you. He laughs his big joy laugh as you giggle and then leans in and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is a tender one, his soft mouth gently pushed up against yours. But there's a heat behind it and you feel your center start to respond. He deepens the kiss and pushes his hips against you, his hardness pressed against your thigh.

Just then, the skating rink attendant hollers at the two of you to get up. He pulls back and laughs again, helping you to your feet.

“You cold, honey?” You nod, shivering. He smiles and guides you off of the ice and over to the area to take your skates off. You struggle with yours as he removes his easily. After watching you for a bit, he gets on his knees in front of you and starts to unlace your skates one at a time. As he takes them off, he holds your feet in his hand and squeezes them gently. It feels good, so you don't complain, and it's clear he's enjoying having your little feet in his hands. You'd be lying if you said the feeling of his hands on you wasn't about to drive you crazy. Eventually, he slips your shoes on and ties them, sighing a little. You click your heels together and he puts his hands on your knees, looking up at you.

“Now what?” You ask, giggling.

“What d’you wanna do, baby?” Suppressing a grin, you shrug. You know exactly what you want to do, but you're not sure he's on the same page.

“I dunno. Anything is fine with me.” You bite your bottom lip and he tries not to groan.

“We can decide in the car. C’mon.” He pats both your knees and stands up, offering you his hand. You take it and make your way to the car, dropping off your skates in the rental place before you go to the parking lot.

When you get there, he opens the door for you and you slide into the front seat. The spot between your legs is so wet at this point that you're not sure what to do. As soon as he gets in and closes the door, you grab him and pull him into a deep kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth. He does not resist you in any way, instead wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly close to him. His hands begin to roam as things heat up and you try to lay back on the seat and pull him on top of you.

“N-now hold on a second, honey.” You sit up, breathless.

“What?”

“I-I-I-I, well, I…” You can tell he's struggling by the way he stutters, so you place your hand on his cheek and whisper.

“You can tell me, Elvis.” He exhales, exasperated.

“I've never… done this… before…” He looks down into his lap and fidgets with your skirt.

“Oh… well that's okay…” You're not exactly sure what to say. You never dreamed he would be a virgin. But you're so unbelievably turned on that stopping now would be almost painful. Still, you try to pull away and squeeze your thighs together.

“I didn't mean for ya to stop. I just wanted to maybe… slow down a little.” He pulls you into his lap and starts to press soft kisses to your neck and you moan.

“Elvis, you can't do that.”

“Do what?” More soft kisses.

“Tell me no and then get me all worked up like that. I just feel so…” You make a noise somewhere between a whimper and a groan and he pulls back and looks at you.

“So what, baby?”

“Sexual.” His cheeks turn pink and he looks down awkwardly. You grab his chin and make him look up at you.

“I wanna do something for you. But only if you want it.” He nods silently, his blue eyes searching yours. “I won't hurt you, but you can stop me if you want at any time.”

“I trust you, baby.” He kisses your lips gently and then you pull back out of his lap and settle on the seat next to him. You lean forward into his lap and put your mouth around the head of his cock through his slacks. “Oh, fuck.”

His breath comes harder and faster as he braces himself against the car seat. You run your fingers up his length and put your mouth over the tip again. His hand instinctively goes to the back of your head.

“You want me to keep going?” You feel him nod vehemently and then he manages to croak out.

“Yes. Please.” He sucks his stomach in to give you access to his button and zipper and then moans softly as you pull his throbbing cock from his pants. At first, you're a little surprised that he's not wearing underwear, but the sight of him with his hair visible in the opening of his pants makes you clench around nothing so you quickly forget your shock. You pump him slowly a few times, sliding his foreskin back and forth and he moans again, his head dropping back against the seat.

You push his foreskin back and lick the precum that's gathered on his sensitive head and his hips buck and he almost screams.

“Fuck!” You start to sit up to see if he wants you to stop and he gently puts his hand on the back of your head and guides you back to his lap. You giggle a little at his enthusiasm and then slip your lips over his cock, pulling him in deep enough to hit the back of your throat. “Ohhhh goddamn, baby.”

He's obviously enjoying what you're doing as you start to bounce your mouth on him, your hand dipping into his pants to massage his balls as you work him. He bites his knuckle to try to stay quiet, but a strangled groan gets out anyway.

“Fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last long at all this is… oh god…” You push him as deep as he'll go, pressing your nose into his hair and he almost loses it. “What happens… can I…?”

You sit up a second and pump him with your hand, smiling at his inability to formulate a sentence.

“Yes, you can. I'll swallow it.” He leans his head back and groans again.

“Please…” He whimpers and you lean over and take him in your mouth again. His hips buck and he gasps. “I'm gonna cum. Fuck. I'm– oh!”

You feel him tense and then the warm ropes of cum coat your throat as his cock pulses. You swallow it, milking him with your mouth, and he almost cries because it feels so good. When he finally finishes, his whole body relaxes and he slumps in the seat with his head laid back. You sit up and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. He picks his head up and looks at you drunkenly.

“That was incredible. Baby, I wish I could fuck you because I want you to feel that good too.”

“There are other ways…” He looks at you eagerly and you can't believe he doesn't know this.

“Tell me. Tell me and I'll do it.”

“You have hands and a mouth too…” He nods eagerly and slips his hand up between your thighs, feeling your soaking wet panties.

“Damn, honey. That turned you on that much?”

“I was already pretty wet when I started, but yeah.”

“Fuck. Tell me what to do.” He lays you back on the seat and puts his head up under your skirt, pulling your panties down and off. You hear him as he presses kisses to your inner thigh, muffled by the fabric of your dress. “I wanna kiss you.”

“You can kiss me.”

“I just… with my tongue?” He runs a finger up your slit and then pushes it into you.

“Oh! Yes… with your tongue.” You feel him nod and then his tongue is on you, prodding and teasing and searching for the right spot. He explores your pussy with his mouth and his fingers and you whimper. He's so close to where he needs to be.

“Just a little… up… OH FUCK THERE.” He finds your clit and your whole body responds as he stimulates it with his tongue. You slam your hand on the car seat and moan loudly, your body writhing under him. He smiles into you and starts to curl his fingers inside you as he licks your clit. Your walls flutter around his hand and he grunts into you.

“I'm- I’m- oh god ELVIS!” Your whole body is wracked with electricity as you reach your climax, cumming hard in his mouth and on his fingers. He feels the way your body responds and makes a note of how he got you to do it. You see stars until you come back down and he continues to lick you, so you tap on the top of his head and scream a little. He backs up and emerges from under your skirt with his lips and chin glistening.

“Baby, that was… wow.” You sit up, trying to catch your breath and realize he's hard again, cock standing at full attention in his lap. He notices you looking and then your eyes meet. In a second, he grabs you and situates you in his lap with both hands on your hips.

“You sure about this?” You ask him as you drag the head of his cock through your wet folds.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Please.” He groans as you nod and start to sink down onto him. “Oh. My. God.”

You sit for a minute and let him get used to the feeling of you wrapped around him and he buries his face in your neck and shoulder, grunting. When you start to roll your hips against him, he gasps and holds you so tightly that you're afraid he might leave bruises.

“You okay?” You ask quietly as you move on him and he shuts his eyes and opens his mouth.

“Yes– oh god, yes!” A small giggle escapes you and he smiles, his eyes still closed. “This is unbelievable. And you're so goddamn adorable.”

“Elvis, look at me.” His eyes flick open. “You can't cum inside me, so I need to know when you're about to–”

“Oh shit!” He hollers and lifts you up off of himself quickly, his cock throbbing as he fills your skirt with cum. As he finishes, he leans his forehead on your shoulder. “You were saying?”

You both erupt in a cascade of giggles at this, giddy in your post-sex afterglow. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your lips tenderly.

“So will I see you again?” You look at him, almost afraid to hope. He kisses you once more, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and holding the side of your face.

“Baby, after that, you'll never get rid of me.”

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

#elvis presley

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jhoneybees · 5 days ago

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👀🤭

Charro (1969)

#elvis fans #elvis presley

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jhoneybees · 5 days ago

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UHM SO I WAS THINKING — sub! elvis and dom! fem reader. context is she caught him talking to another girl even though the girl was clearly hitting on him. they end up in bed with him all tied up and she overstimulates him and degrades him until hes crying and cant take it anymore.

"you want her to suck your cock? *My* cock?"

A/N: Oh lordy. Okay I've really gone for it here, so I hope you enjoy... this is a sequel to the latex/leather kinktober story I wrote in October.

I'd do anything

Pairing: Sub!Elvis x Dom!Reader

Word count: 2.1K

TWs: Reader is dominant and controlling, possessive kink, name-calling, degradation kink, bondage, Elvis calls reader mama, teasing, begging, edging, overstimulation, Elvis cries, semi-ruined orgasm, hand job, oral, suffocation.

Elvis doesn’t ask the blonde to sit next to him and he certainly doesn’t ask her to start talking to him. If anything, he’s been trying to put her off, talking loudly to Charlie and looking anywhere but her face. He shouldn't have let her sit down really, but his mind was elsewhere. She’s not put off, continuing to talking about how good his show was, batting her eyelashes and twirling a strand of hair around her finger. By the time you walk into the backstage area she has her hand on his thigh. His eyes had been roaming the room, looking for you desperately. Once they find you he stands up, the movement dislodging her. She makes some kind of noise but he’s not paying any attention, all his focus is on you as he starts to walk over to where you’re standing, one hand on your hip.

Things have really developed between the two of you since that time he wore the latex suit to the afterparty. You’ve been more and more interested in his clothes, telling him to wear the brightly patterned shirt he’s lounging in, post-show, and to go onstage without those little white panties that he’s been told he ought to wear to keep himself modest. You’d spent the whole of tonight's midnight show teasing him from your front row table, making him blush and fiddle, adjusting himself over and over. He was a flushed mess by the end of it, barely able to think, only still up there onstage because he knows the songs inside out. So when that blonde started talking to him he was too distracted by thoughts of you to stop her. He’s still distracted by them when he reaches you, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Hey, baby.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t you “hey baby” me. Who’s that girl?” You jab an accusatory finger in the air in her direction. Your voice is calm, but there's an undercurrent he knows very well.

Shrugging, he tries to sound nonchalant. “I dunno, honey. Just a fan.”

“Just a fan,” you repeat, looking him right in the eye. “Just a fan you want to fuck, right?”

“N-no, honey.” He looks around uncomfortably, hoping no-one heard that. “Y’know you’re all I want.” His hand moves to touch your face and you slap it away irritably.

“Don’t bullshit me,” you hiss. “She had her hand on your thigh.”

“Exactly, baby. She had her hand on my thigh, not the other way around.” He creeps closer, trying to touch you again but you take a deliberate step back.

“So she wants to suck your cock, huh?” You drop your voice to a low, menacing whisper, “my cock.”

He flushes crimson again. “Y-yeah I guess s-so, maybe… I d-didn’t do anything though, Mama.”

“Oh, you didn’t do anything. So shaking your hips like some kind of slut and deep-throating the mic on stage aren’t anything? No way she could’ve got the wrong idea from that tight little jumpsuit you were wearing, flaunting yourself like a whore?”

Elvis' mind is a blur. There are people everywhere and he’s afraid someone is going to hear some of the downright degrading things you’re saying to him, and then he’s afraid they’re going to notice the bulge in his pants that’s growing with every insult. Part of his mind keeps unhelpfully telling him that actually you picked the jumpsuit and you told him not to wear pants, so if he’s part of the problem you certainly are too. He mumbles his apologies and tells you over and over how it’s all his fault that this girl has been flirting with him, hoping that will be enough to placate you. That this is happening in a room full of people is exciting and terrifying all at once.

“You’ll get your punishment later,” you tell him, your lips against his ear as the pair of you start to do the rounds, talking to musicians and fans alike.

Swallowing hard, he tries to subtly rearrange himself. His heart is racing. He can’t wait for later.

***

Later turns out to not be that much later, because you can’t wait either and so you tell him to clear the suite as soon as you get back to it. He’s naked on his back in the middle of the bed within seconds, and you can’t help grinning at his eagerness as you lock the door to the room. Big blue eyes watch silently as you tie his hands to the head of the bed and his feet to the other end, arms stretched above his head and legs apart. You take a moment to step back and admire your handiwork. From his wide eyes and red, bitten lips to his red, swollen cock, laying on his stomach with precum beading at the tip, he’s a vision.

You sit on one side of the bed, running your fingertips teasingly all over his skin, enjoying watching him wiggle to try and get more contact.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, haven’t you?”

Elvis nods quickly. “Yes, Mama.”

“Naughty boys don’t deserve to cum, do they?”

He whines. “P-please, Mama. She was talkin’ to me.”

“She wasn’t just talking, was she, baby?” You chide, your hand laying flat at the top of his thigh now. “She was touching you. Like this.” You start to slowly drag your hand upwards as you continue. “If I hadn’t walked in, who knows what would’ve happened.” Your hand grasps his cock a little too firmly and he squeaks.

“N-no, Mama.”

“No Mama?”

“She wouldn’t have… I wouldn’t have… I only… I only want you.” He’s breathless as you start to move your hand on him, slowly.

“You know how I feel about people touching my things, baby.”

He squirms, starting to struggle against the restraints in anticipation of what will happen next.

“Please… please Mama…”

“Please?”

“Please d-don’t punish me…”

You shake your head, keeping up the rhythm of your hand on his cock, watching his abdominal muscles twitch and clench as he gets close.

“Have to, baby. How else will you learn?”

He whines as he watches your hand speed up and then suddenly move away again.

“Please,” he whispers. Sometimes begging helps. Well, it certainly never hurts.

You giggle, leaning down to lick a stripe up his swollen member. “So pathetic,” you tell him, licking back down again.

“‘S sore…”

You actually laugh at that. “Sore? I'm only just getting started, baby.”

Wrapping your hand around him, you start again at a maddeningly slow pace. “So pathetic and desperate…” you sigh to illustrate your level of disappointment with him.

His big blue eyes stare up at you. “Yes, Mama.”

“Begging for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mama.”

Your mouth curls into a smile at his obedience, and he briefly starts to get hopeful. But he’s disappointed again, groaning as you speed up only to let go at what seems like the last possible moment again. He shouldn’t beg again but his dignity is out of the window at this point.

“Please, Mama. Please let me cum… I’ll be good, I promise… I’m sorry…”

You slip your mouth over the head of his cock and he moans loudly, body arching off the bed as his hands pull hard against the restraints. Opening your throat, you take him all in one smooth movement, your hands pressing as much of your weight as you can through his hips to hold him down. The noises he’s making are starting to sound inhuman. You bob your head once, twice, and then pull off completely.

“Ahhh FUCK!”

His dick feels so swollen it’s painful, his release heavy in his balls. You giggle again as you look at him. He’s wrecked. But you want to take it further.

“You look a mess. A pathetic mess.”

He’s panting, trying to hold back from completely losing it, knowing he can’t escape the ties no matter how much he struggles, and that there’s a good chance that you’ll just leave him there if he doesn’t agree with whatever you say.

“Yes, Mama.”

“Say it. Tell me you’re a pathetic mess.”

“I’m a… I’m a p-pathetic mess…” His chest is heaving.

You grin and take his cock back in your hand again, stroking it. His eyes are like saucers as he feels his release in the base of his cock. Any minute now, you’re going to move your hand and he’s going to be disappointed. Any… minute… now… panting, he starts to think maybe you’ve changed your mind, despite what you just said, because you’re still moving on him and his orgasm is so close now he can almost taste it.

And then you move your hand again.

He howls in frustration and tears gather in the corners of his eyes and spill down his cheeks. He’s. So. Close. This is torture.

“Mama, PLEASE. I can’t take it… I can’t take it anymore…”

You smirk and without another word you move your hand to just lightly poke his dick with your little finger.

He gasps in shock when that's all it takes to make him cum, white fluid spurting from the head of his twitching, swollen member. You throw your head back and laugh as he tries desperately to free himself from the restraints. Your heart is beating out of your chest at just how cruel you’ve been - you didn’t even know if it would work, if you could take your hand away at just the right time and make him cum with such a tiny movement. But it was perfect. You gave him an orgasm with almost none of the usual satisfaction. It’s fucking ruined. He can barely think, his brain is mush as he desperately tries to work out what the fuck just happened. There’s a weird high feeling, a feeling like he’s spinning in space, knowing you’ve just taken his orgasm from him, you’re in control and have all the power and he has nothing. You’ve robbed him of the pleasure he was supposed to have and somehow that makes him all the more desperate for you. The tears don’t stop flowing down his cheeks.

“Mama,” he whimpers.

He’s so pathetic-sounding you take pity on him, untying him and lying down next to him on the bed. Taking his face in your hands you stare into his tear-filled eyes.

“Awww, poor pathetic baby boy. Came just from my little finger.” You hold it up in front of his face to illustrate, with a little giggle.

He whines, wriggling closer, pushing his face into the crook of your neck and nuzzling you. You wrap your arms around him, kissing his hair.

“Love you, Mama,” he mumbles.

You bite your lip at his words. He’s always so demonstrative afterwards and you love it.

“I love you too, baby.”

Part of you wants to tease him more, but you know you’re probably pushing it already so you just cuddle him, your heart full of love for him and his absolute devotion to you.

“Can I make you cum?” He asks after a while, moving his head to look at you with pleading eyes.

You grin and nod. “Of course you can, baby. Since you’ve been such a good boy.”

Rolling onto his back, he puts his hands on your thighs as you settle yourself onto his face. Your pussy is slick with arousal, you’d got very excited watching him earlier and you know it won’t take much to make you come undone. As he starts to lick you with the fervour of a devoted servant you think about the day when you jerked him off in that suit and sent him to talk to girls with cum all over himself. You grab hold of the bedpost and start grinding against his face, imagining him blushing and stuttering knowing about the mess you made him make in his pants. God. He’d do anything for you.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out as you start to get close, thinking of how desperate he’s been for you, how he’ll wear what you want and do what you want, and even sacrifice his own pleasure for you.

Rolling your hips, you ride his face until you’re moaning and cussing, pleasure rushing through your body and exploding like fireworks.

“Ohhhh.”

You gasp and sigh out his name.

Shakily moving off him, you lie down again, looking into his red face, loving the way it’s covered in you, the way he's breathing hard from being half-suffocated.

“God, I love you Elvis,” you sigh.

“I love you too baby,” he coos. “Did I make you feel good?”

You nod and touch his cheek gently. “You always do, El. You always do.”

***

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy @presleyhearted @lvrdollep

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jhoneybees · 6 days ago

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Gentle On My Mind - Chapter 11

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: We are still in 1972 and there are still a lot of dark themes in this part, please do check the triggers.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 5.2K

TWs: Infidelity, angst, unpleasant language around weight etc, name-calling (not Elvis), domestic violence (not Elvis), crying, angry!Elvis, violence, guns, smut, kind of gun kink?

Gloria doesn’t feel like she can talk to her friends or her sister about divorcing Roger. She doesn’t even know how she’ll talk to Roger about it, but this weekend has convinced her something has to change. She can’t live in fear anymore. She plays with the bracelet around her wrist, fingers closing around the charm that Elvis had given her when she left. It’s a diamond-encrusted letter E. It’s subtle, but she knows she’s still pushing her luck wearing it home and thinking her husband won’t notice. Perhaps part of her wants him to notice. She takes a sip of her complimentary glass of wine and thinks about seeing her kids again. This is the longest she’s been away from them, and she feels the sting of their absence. Roger had better not make this custody agreement difficult…

***

Roger is not having a good day. He’s just found out that the maid is pregnant, and she doesn’t seem that keen on getting rid of it, despite his repeated offers to pay. He’s storming around the house, frustrated and angry. He sees one of Gloria’s many cookery books stuffed on a shelf in between a load of novels and frowns, wondering what it’s doing there. Grabbing it, he pulls it out, and something about the way it had been shoved into a space slightly too small for it makes the pages splay open and several items fall out and onto the floor. He picks them up and looks at them, one by one. It takes him a while to realise that one of them is a polaroid of a man’s penis, the photo had obviously been taken in a dark room and he turned it around a few times before he recognised it. He throws it to the floor in disgust. The second polaroid is a lot easier to understand - a photo of one of the most famous men in the world: Elvis Presley. He stares at it in disbelief, and then drops it on the floor again, looking at the two postcards left in his hand. They’re not signed, but it’s obvious who they’re from.

Roger lets them fall from his hands too, and then he stares at the collection of things on the floor and contemplates what they mean. His wife is coming back from a weekend in Vegas, a weekend where she said she was going to see Elvis perform. And she owns these. He shakes his head, slowly gathering the photos and postcards up again. Surely Elvis Presley can have whoever he wants. What would he be wanting with Gloria? Fat, ruined Gloria. She probably just went there to throw herself at him, that’s how desperate she is nowadays. Now her husband doesn’t want her anymore.

***

It’s dark when Gloria arrives back home, and Roger has tucked the kids up in bed and both of them are sleeping soundly when she walks through the front door. He’s waiting for her though, and makes a show of ripping the items he found into little pieces in front of her. She tries to tell him Elvis means nothing to her, but he can tell from the look on her face that’s not true. He screams at her, calling her a slut and demanding to know what she’s been doing all weekend. When she replies “Elvis,” in a way that reminds her of old Gloria, of foul-mouthed, confident, pantiless Gloria, he punches her. She falls to the floor, crying, desperately begging him not to wake the kids up with his yelling.

“I’m going out,” he rages, heading for the door.

She stays where she is until she hears the sound of his car pulling away, and then starts to get up slowly, fingertips running over her rapidly swelling cheek. She can hear Corey calling for her, so she makes her way up the stairs and into his room. He’s lying awake, staring at the ceiling.

“Mama!”

“Hello darling,” she coos, leaning over to hug him. “Did um… daddy wake you up?” She’s not sure how else to put it, really.

Corey frowns at her as she releases him from the tight embrace, his hand reaching for her face.

“Mama… sore?”

Her face is swelling in front of her eyes, so she’s not surprised he can see it and know something’s wrong.

“Yeah. It is a bit sore. I um… walked into a door.” She’s not even really sure why she’s lying, she’s not sure Corey would understand if she told him it was Roger, but she’s also not sure Corey doesn’t know on some level anyway. The argument had been pretty loud.

Her son makes a sad sound, almost like a whining dog, and she nods in agreement. She feels quite a lot like a beaten dog at this moment in time.

“It’s okay darling,” she tells him, kissing his cheek. “Mama is okay. You just go right back to sleep.”

She picks up his toy dinosaur from where it had fallen onto the floor, and tucks it back into the bed with him. He continues to frown at her, so she takes a book from the shelf and starts to read. After a couple of pages his eyes, heavy with tiredness, close. And then a couple more and his breathing changes, and she knows he’s asleep again. She closes the book and replaces it as quietly as she can, creeping out of the room. Poking her head into Jackie’s room, she’s relieved to see the little girl sleeping peacefully. But then, she could probably sleep through a hurricane. Gloria walks back downstairs slowly and wonders what to do. Roger has gone, but he’ll be back at some point.

She knows the sensible thing to do is call her sister, and get her husband to come round and wait for Roger. But somehow she doesn’t want to do that. She’s too embarrassed, ashamed of the situation she’s got herself into, and so instead she finds herself dialling the number Elvis had given her when he left, almost against her will.

“Hello?” It’s loud in the background, but Elvis’ voice is unmistakable.

She takes a breath. “Elvis. It’s Gloria.”

“Glory.” He stands up from where he’d been sitting on the sofa in the suite, untangling himself from the women on either side of him. He’d invited half of the chorus line from the Folie Bergeres round in an attempt to stop himself thinking about the woman on the other end of the phone.

“Roger hit me,” she blurts out.

“He WHAT?” Elvis thunders, and she can hear him then shouting to Charlie to empty the suite. People are all making noise as they walk around and call to one another, and she hears several female voices asking Elvis if he wants them to stay. She hadn’t really meant to cause such a ruckus.

“He found out about us…” she starts to sniff, feeling tears pricking her eyes again. “And he didn’t take it well.”

“Where is he now? Are you safe?”

“I don’t know. He left.”

“I’m coming to look after ya.”

“What?” This wasn’t what she was hoping for at all. Or was it?

“I’ll charter a plane. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Wait for me.”

Gloria hears the phone click, and not for the first time after a conversation with Elvis, stares at the receiver in disbelief. She doesn’t think him coming to her home is a good idea, but at the same time she desperately wants him here. She’s afraid of what will happen when Roger comes back, but she won’t be afraid if Elvis is with her.

***

Elvis’ fury doesn’t abate even with an hour and a half on the plane and almost an hour’s drive. His eyes are wide and he’s breathing hard through his nose when he rings the doorbell. He knew there was something wrong with her, something wrong with Roger. And the travel time has just been time for him to think, time for him to realise that Glory has been unhappy for her entire marriage, and Roger has probably been beating her for most of it too. He wonders why he’s never seen any marks on her, but then again the bastard was probably clever about when and where he did it.

Gloria freezes at the sound of the doorbell, and then remembers that Roger has a key. So the only person it could really be at this time of the night is Elvis. He wraps her in a tight hug as soon as she opens the door, and then fusses over her face.

“My God. He did this to you?”

She nods, dumbly.

“Bastard. I’ll kill him. If he sets foot in this house I’ll kill him.”

Gloria trembles at his words, shaking even more when he deliberately stands with his hands on his hips, showing off his shoulder holsters. She screws her hands into fists and tries to get some of her courage back. She can’t let this happen in her house.

“Elvis, my kids,” she puts her hands on his chest and looks up into his face. “They’re upstairs. You can’t fucking kill my husband with my kids upstairs.” She looks around, and then frowns. “You didn’t bring anyone with you?”

He shakes his head, not looking at her, thinking about how much he wants to kill Roger right now. “They didn’t want me to come here, so I left without telling them.”

Gloria’s eyes widen as she takes in the implications of this. His men don’t know where he is, and he’s taken… she looks him up and down and tries to count… at least four guns with him. Then she remembers, in Vegas, seeing him take off a Derringer that he strapped to his ankle for every performance. So likely five guns, then. And she knows he has a temper, and if anything he’s got less able to control it since she’s known him. She thinks back to him punching Red in the face just for saying she was easy. None of this is good.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of screeching brakes outside. Then there’s a sort of scrabbling at the door, before Roger finally appears in the room, staring at her as he staggers forwards. He’s obviously been drinking this whole time, and he’s not looking good. Gloria grabs Elvis’ arm, instinctively.

“Oh,” Roger begins, almost completely floored by the fact that Elvis Presley appears to be standing in his house right now, next to his wife. “It’s you.”

“You damn cowardly sonofabitch.” Elvis’ voice is low and menacing and Gloria grips his arm more tightly, simultaneously afraid of him and desperate for him to protect her.

“What… are you doing in my house?” Roger slurs.

“Giving you a fair fight,” Elvis replies, through gritted teeth. “Though I know ya won’t take it, since you’re a cowardly son-of-a-bitch.” He spaces the words out, saying them deliberately slowly in an attempt to goad.

Roger frowns, then tries to draw himself up to his full height. He staggers again. “This,” he announces, waving his hand around the living room. “Is none of your business.” He wobbles a little again, then rights himself. “Get out of my house.”

“I will fucking kill you.”

There’s a moment where the two men are just standing and staring at one another, Elvis looking with unbridled hate and disgust and Roger with drunken confusion, and then the taller man steps forward and grabs Gloria’s husband by the throat, pulling him forwards and then suddenly reversing direction, slamming him head first into the wall.

“Elvis! No!” Gloria can’t help herself, she tries not to scream because she knows she’ll wake Corey, but she can’t watch the man she loves beating her husband to a pulp.

Elvis ignores her, walking over to where Roger is now a small heap on the floor, pulling him up by his collar just to punch him in the face repeatedly.

“Fucking coward,” he spits, staring down into Roger's bloodshot eyes.

“Elvis!” She grabs his arm and pulls with all of her strength, finally managing to get his attention and get him to stop for a minute.

“Honey, you need to stay away from me,” he tells her, eyes blazing, breath coming in harsh pants.

“No. Elvis you need to stop. Please. He’s done some fucking terrible things to me, but Roger’s a good dad. My kids need him. Come on. Please.”

There’s a glimmer of understanding in Elvis’ eyes, and Gloria takes advantage of it, tugging on his arm again. He finally lets the other man go, allowing her to position herself between them.

He shakes his hand, flexing the fingers and wincing a little at the pain.

“Let’s just call his brother,” she suggests, suddenly somehow calm amongst all of this insanity.

“Fine,” He huffs.

She takes him with her to the phone, not trusting him to resist shooting Roger otherwise, and after a short and tense conversation Roger’s brother agrees to come and fetch him. It’s an awkward wait and an even more awkward conversation when the other man arrives, but eventually it’s over and somehow no-one is dead. As the door clunks shut, Gloria pads over to the kitchen and pours herself a hearty measure of bourbon.

“You want?” She asks.

Elvis nods, so she pours him a glass too and brings it over to him. They sit down on the couch together, both taking a large mouthful of liquor. Gloria puts her glass down and leans her head on his shoulder, her hand on his belly. She spends a moment actually taking him in, seeing what he’s wearing for the first time and realising for the first time too just how turned on she is. It’s like he’s her knight in shining armour, come to rescue her from the wicked man she’s been trapped in this house with for so long. She looks up at his face, and she can tell he’s still thinking about killing Roger, probably regretting the fact that she stopped him. He takes off his shades and looks back at her.

“You okay, honey?”

His hand cups her cheek, and now the look is pure concern rather than ill-disguised rage.

“Yes. I’m okay now,” she whispers, pressing her lips to his. “Now you’ve got rid of him for me. For us.” She can’t help thinking about her kids, upstairs, hopefully still sleeping through all of this. She knows Elvis will have to leave before they wake up, but she doesn’t want him gone just yet.

He pulls her into another, more passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth as he feels her get into his lap. He’d be lying if he said that the whole thing with Roger hadn’t done it for him a little bit. Rescuing a damsel in distress, and on his own, too. No back up from the guys, who hadn’t wanted him to even leave Vegas. And now the grateful damsel is on his lap, grinding against him, kissing him desperately.

“Fuck, honey. Is this what you want?” He asks, breathlessly as she moves to undo his pants.

She nods quickly, freeing his dick and starting to stroke it. “Please. I want you so bad.”

He groans. The difference between now and yesterday is like day and night. As she rubs herself against him he thinks again that Roger must’ve done something to make her so unlike the Glory he met. Something to make her afraid of sex.

She sinks down onto him slowly and deliberately. It’s easier than last night, thanks in part to the position and in part to the fact that she’s so wildly turned on. She starts to bounce on him, hands on his shoulders for balance as his fingers dig into her hips.

“Glory,” he moans, as she slides up and down, then sits and just rolls her hips.

She pushes the jacket off his shoulders, exposing the holstered guns under his arms. She can feel his hip holsters against her knees too.

He shifts a little. “Here, lemme take these off…” his hand goes to the shoulder holster and she grabs it.

“No. Leave them on.”

He looks at her, questioningly as she starts to move faster. “You’d have killed him, wouldn’t you?” She breathes.

He nods, watching her, feeling her, wondering what’s going on in her head.

“You’d have killed him for me. Fuck.”

He finally gets it, his hands moving to hold her in place as he starts to fuck her from underneath.

“Yes, Glory. I’d have fucking killed him for you, if you’d have let me.”

She whines, her hand going between her legs to rub her clit as he pounds her.

“I love you,” she moans, her orgasm bubbling up inside her as she says it.

“I love you too, Glory.” He gets it out just before her walls squeeze around him and he becomes completely incapable of further thought or speech. They both groan into one another’s shoulders, trying to muffle the noise of their orgasms.

She leans against him, heavily, his softening dick still nestled inside her. The adrenalin drains out of her body and she finds herself sleepy in his arms. They sit like that for a while, then she realises she must’ve dropped off and come to again. She climbs off him, groggily, and sits beside him on the couch.

“You better go,” she whispers.

He looks over at her, sadly. “Before the kids wake up?” He really wants to see them.

She nods. “Before they wake up.” Looking over at the clock. “It won’t be long now, and I should get in bed or they’ll wonder what’s been going on.”

He strokes her face. “They’re going to wonder what’s been going on anyway, Glory.”

“Mmm.”

She takes her hand in his and looks at the bruised knuckles for a while. It reminds her again of that time with Red. She presses kisses to them, like she did before.

“I can’t even say hi?”

She shakes her head a little to bring herself back from her daydream. “No. But… if you’re really quiet you can look in on them with me.”

He follows her up the stairs eagerly, then stands with his arms around her waist, looking over her shoulder into first Corey’s room and then Jackie’s. They both have their little nightlights on, so he can see them a little, and he hums with pleasure.

“Glory they’re both so beautiful,” he tells her, once they’re back downstairs again.

She beams with pride, she can’t help it. Elvis liking her kids is something she didn’t even know she needed. Even if he is judging them at their most peaceful.

“Thank you. I wish you could stay and meet them properly, but it’ll be too confusing for them.”

Elvis nods, sadly. “Soon though, Glory. Soon. Once the divorce is done.”

Gloria smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She doesn’t think he notices, or at least she hopes he doesn’t. She can’t imagine a situation where she could take her kids across state lines, away from their father. She can’t imagine a situation where her and Elvis could ever work. But she nods anyway.

“Once the divorce is done.”

***

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jhoneybees · 6 days ago

Text

🫶🫶🫶

“Beneath the golden southern light,

A father’s arms hold pure delight.

Lisa’s smile, so sweet, so bright,

A beacon of joy, a child’s birthright.

Dressed in polka dots, soft and blue,

Her laughter shines, tender and true.

Elvis cradles her, proud and warm,

A love that weathers every storm.

In her eyes, the spark of dreams,

A future bright, with boundless gleams.

Father and daughter, a timeless bond,

A snapshot of love that lingers on.”

Thinking of this beautiful souls today, I can’t believe it’s already 2 years since her passing, but I know that she’s happy now.. with her dad and her son

We’ll Forever miss you, little Yisa

#elvis presley #elvis fans

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jhoneybees · 7 days ago

Text

👹YES👹

Gentle On My Mind - Chapter 10

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: My regular warning that there are still some dark themes here, please do check the triggers.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 3.2K

TWs: Reference to sexual assault (not Elvis-related), trauma, crying, smut, size kink.

Gloria spends a dizzying couple of days in Elvis’ suite and downstairs watching him perform. That Sunday night he tells her that he hates the fact he hasn’t been able to send her birthday gifts, but he has been buying them anyway and he presents her with an armful of dresses and shoes and jewellery. When she tells him she can’t possibly take that home and have Roger see any of it he promises to keep it in Graceland for her, stroking her cheek and telling her that it’ll be waiting for when she’s ready to live with him. She doesn’t know how to tell him she doesn’t think that will ever happen, so she stays quiet.

He asks if she wants to come to the midnight show, after one show in the afternoon and the usual dinner one. She shakes her head wearily.

“I’m so tired, baby. I really want to see you again, I just need to rest for a bit. I can’t get on your schedule…”

He nods a little sadly but he lets her go to bed. If she sleeps now she might stay awake after the show for the afterparty. He follows her into the bedroom and watches as she gets changed awkwardly, trying not to show him her body.

She flops onto the bed and looks up at him, stretching like a cat. “Have a good show baby.”

“Thanks Glory, I will, I hope.” He sits down on the side of the bed and she curls herself around him, making him smile.

“You know how usually you have people in here, afterwards…” she starts, slightly unsure.

He nods silently.

“You think… maybe tonight it could be just us?”

He feels himself about to say that he likes to have plenty of people around him for company and to help him wind down after the shows… and then he realises this might be the first time she’s ever asked him for anything.

“Sure, princess. Anything for you.”

***

Gloria manages about an hour’s sleep and then starts drinking espresso martinis that she orders from room service in an attempt to keep herself awake and simultaneously get herself a little drunk. She checks her finger and toenails for chips and then curls her hair, applying makeup carefully afterwards. Spraying a little perfume, she steps out of her nightclothes. She’s set the jacuzzi going and it’s warm and bubbly. Checking the time, she takes a deep breath and then gets in. He should be back from the concert in the next few minutes, if the other nights are anything to go by. She’s hoping and praying he hasn’t suddenly decided to bring one of the guys back with him.

***

Elvis and Jerry are on their way back to the suite together when Elvis remembers what Gloria said and thinks maybe her request included the guys too. His bitches, she always used to call them. He chuckles to himself.

“Hey, Jer, I think ya should probably make yourself scarce for a few hours.”

Jerry shrugs. “Sure. You got plans?”

Elvis smirks. “Glory does.”

Jerry finds himself blushing a little, thinking of Gloria getting herself all dolled up for Elvis after his show. He tries to pull himself together.

“Have a good time!” He slaps the other man on the back and then turns and walks back down the corridor as quickly as he can.

Elvis looks after him, feeling mildly confused. Shaking his head a little to clear it, he carries on towards the suite. They still hadn’t had sex this weekend, the combination of her shyness about her body and their inability to be awake at the same time didn’t help. But maybe tonight…

He pushes the door open and calls her name.

“In here, big boy,” she calls back.

Frowning a little, he wanders through the suite, listening to the sound of her voice as she keeps calling out to him. Finally working out that she’s in the huge bathroom, and then looking in to see her stretched out in the bubbly jacuzzi, a glass of wine in hand.

He blinks. “Oh my…” His eyes drink her in, her hair piled up on the top of her head in a mountain of curls, red lipstick and smokey eyes, and obviously nothing on. Thank God he’d told Jerry to get lost.

Gloria grins. “C’mon. Get in.”

Elvis doesn’t need telling twice, shedding his clothes quickly and getting in at the other side of the bath.

“Well I wasn’t expecting this,” he breathes, accepting the glass of wine she’s offering him.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I’m sorry we’ve not… it’s not like me.”

None of it had been like the girl he first met, he reflects. But that was five years ago now, and he’s certainly changed too. He smiles.

“Well it’s a wonderful surprise,” he tells her, his hand reaching to stroke her thigh. “Don’t get much use out of this thing usually.”

“No?” She teases. “I’d have thought you’d have it full of glamorous women all the time.”

He stares at her for a moment, and then remembers that she did used to be like this. Unbothered by whoever else he might have in his bed when she wasn’t there.

“Only one at a time, usually. I’m not as young as I used to be…” he jokes.

She grins. “Okay, so you know what you're doing then. What's your usual next move?”

“If I've already got to the naked in a hot tub stage?” He asks. “Well, I guess I'd probably take this glass from you and kiss you properly.”

He moves across the tub, taking the wine glass from her hand and setting it on the side. His hand cups her cheek as he starts to kiss her, his body half-floating and half-pressed against hers. Her hands move to the back of his neck, fingers pushing into his hair as the kiss deepens and she thinks about how much she’s missed this. Being touched by someone who wants her. She slides a hand between them and wraps it around his dick, stroking it slowly up and down as they continue to kiss. She can feel herself getting excited but at the same time her stomach is doing flips thinking about what might come next. The last time her and Roger had sex it was quick and unpleasant. She’d just closed her eyes and gritted her teeth and waited for it to be over. The last time she’d actually had a good time with someone else had been Elvis, after the show in Frisco last year. Somehow she’d managed to be carefree then, once she’d got the fainting and the crying over and done with. But now in the hot tub she can feel herself getting tense as his hand slips between her legs and starts to play with her, and her mind is going at a million miles an hour thinking of what she’ll do next and what he might do next and what could go wrong. She’s never over-thought in her life. What the fuck is happening?

“C-can we stop?” She finds herself asking, pulling away from him and the kiss.

Elvis is a little shocked, and Elvis is also more than a little turned on. So he says something he shouldn’t.

“Oh baby, come on. It’s been such a long time.”

Gloria feels herself freeze as the words echo around her head. The same words Roger used, that night when he… well. She feels Elvis’ hands on her, the hands of another man she’s frustrating, another man who wants something she’s not willing to give. And suddenly she’s gone from fright to flight and she’s scrambling out of the hot tub, knocking over the wine glass and hearing it smash on the side as she runs from the room, desperately trying to get to the bedroom where her clothes are. She can hear footsteps behind her and his voice calling out her name and it just makes her run faster, desperate to escape. She barrels into the door and almost knocks herself out when she finds it closed. Standing there, swaying, she feels arms around her waist and hears a gentle voice in her ear.

“Glory… Glory, it’s me… shh… it’s okay.”

Her body relaxes when she hears his voice, his tone, his pet name for her. She flops against him and he wraps her in a towel and then picks her up in his arms, carrying her into the bedroom and onto the bed. He pulls on a robe himself and then sits down next to her, concern etched onto his face.

“Baby I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” he scratches his head. He’s not sure what he didn’t mean to do, exactly. “Are ya okay?”

She stares back at him. She is not okay. “No… I… I don’t know.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Sorry. This was meant to be a fun time in the hot tub and I freaked out.”

He reaches over and strokes her cheek gently. “Can I get ya anything? Anything that would make ya feel better?”

She sighs. “I knocked over the wine glass.” Looking forlornly across the room.

“I’ll get ya some more. Hold on.”

She watches him walk away and feels her stomach knot. She wants him so much but he’d reminded her of Roger in that one moment and it had really, really scared her. He comes back with the wine and doesn’t ask any more questions, just sits with his arm around her, kissing her temple and telling her how pretty she is. Eventually they talk a little about his show and what he plans to do tomorrow, and then she gathers her courage and puts her glass down on the bedside table.

“Can we go back to what we were doing?” She asks, her hand on his arm. “But… take it slow?”

He nods. “Of course.” His hand gently pushes her towel open and his thumb caresses one of her nipples. “Is this okay?”

She nods and presses her lips against his, her hand reaching to undo his robe. She starts to gently stroke him again, and he moans into her mouth, pulling back to look at her.

“I’ve missed the way you do this.”

She can feel herself welling up when he says that, and she has to take a couple of deep breaths to stop herself from crying.

“Can I touch you too?” He asks, softly, his hand slowly moving over her belly.

“Yes please.”

She lets out a shaky breath as he runs his finger up her pussy and then around her clit.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

He’s being so gentle and careful with her she finds herself starting to relax, just feeling the sensations in her body rather than wondering what will come next. His fingers slip around and inside her with ease as she gets wetter, and he starts to want more. He slides his leg between hers and takes hold of his dick, gently displacing her hand. Running the tip against her pussy, he hears her gasp, and then rearranges slightly so that he can rub against her without his hand being involved.

“Is this okay?”

His eyes search hers for any sign of fear but she just stares back at him with full-blown lust.

“Yeah… fuck… it’s better than okay…”

She moans as he kisses her neck, one hand holding her leg to give him access to rub his dick against her pussy again and again.

“Can I…?” He asks, a few minutes later when he’s not sure how much more of this delicious torture he can take.

She nods.

He presses his forehead against hers, stopping his movements for a moment. “Tell me if you want me to stop and I’ll stop.”

She nods again, then manages a whispered “I’ll tell you.”

He shifts again and starts to push inside her, pulling her leg up and over his hip as he very slowly fucks her with the tip. She whimpers. She’d forgotten just how big he was, and even this is stretching her uncomfortably. Her mind keeps slipping back to that night with Roger, when she told him no and he forced himself on her anyway.

“Elvis I… I can’t…”

He pulls back and takes a deep breath. Fuck.

“You can’t?” He tries to keep his voice calm and level, but it’s difficult. It’s difficult not being allowed to have what he wants so badly.

“I want to,” she whispers. “I just… since the baby…”

Elvis tries his level best to think, rather than just act, for a change. Lately with everything that had been going on in his life, he’d struggled to do anything other than react. Which tended to involve a lot of yelling, throwing things, getting angry quickly and then apologising. But he can’t do any of that to his Glory, no matter how frustrated he might be in this moment. She seems delicate right now, for reasons he can’t understand, so he tries to treat her like an expensive china vase.

“How about I make ya feel good, hm? And then if you want, we could try again? Ya might be a little more… relaxed.”

It’s something he’s done before with her and with other girls. They did sometimes get put off by the sheer size of him and clam up, although he’s not sure why that would happen to Glory now.

Gloria kisses him gently on the lips and then nods. “Okay. Let’s try that.”

He gently rolls her onto her back and then settles himself between her legs. He doesn’t want to rush this, to make her think he’s just trying to get to his own pleasure. Anyway, this is his own pleasure. He loves going down on girls, sometimes a lot more than he enjoys sex. There’s always an element of danger when it comes to sex with a random girl, and although he’s adept at pulling out at the right moment, he never feels like he can really let go and enjoy himself. He can enjoy himself here though, he thinks, as he buries his face in Gloria’s pussy and listens to her moans. He can get right into the moment, whatever that moment might be. Tease and denial, romance, tongue-fucking. He’s even been known to lick an ass or two, recently, if the fancy takes him. And right now it’s a great excuse to watch her letting go too, losing her inhibitions and grabbing his head as her pussy pulses around his tongue. He kisses and licks and sucks until his name is echoing around the room, her hips are bucking up into his face and he starts to worry about clumps of his hair being pulled out.

“Fuck. Elvis. Oh God.”

He grabs the towel that’s still on the bed and wipes his face with it before pressing kisses to her neck again, pulling her leg over the top of his and holding her body close. His dick is throbbing with need, but he just keeps kissing and holding her as she comes down from her orgasm.

“Let me do it,” she says quietly, after a while.

“Huh?” He feels like she’s saying yes but he wants her so badly at this point he’s starting to wonder if he’s making things up.

“Here.”

She moves her leg so it’s thrown high over his hip, then reaches between her legs for his dick, slowly easing it into her pussy. It’s definitely not as difficult as earlier, but she’s still tight and he’s still big. She rearranges again, one hand guiding his dick as the other grips his ass, encouraging a slow rhythm, each thrust pushing him inside just a little further. She groans when she feels him finally fill her completely, her hands going to his back and the back of his head.

He waits, with all the patience he can possibly muster, for her to tell him that it’s okay to move. She’s so tight around him he’s not sure how long he can last, even in this slightly weird position. He doesn’t know why, but he knows this is the only way she’d want to do it, lying facing one another, wrapped up in each other’s limbs.

She looks at him and nods, only a tiny little movement, but he knows what it means, and starts to slowly thrust in and out of her, watching her and feeling her.

“Oh Glory,” he murmurs, one hand on the back of her head, the other on her ass. His hot breath on her ear. “My girl.”

She whimpers softly at the words. She hasn’t heard him call her that for a long time.

“You feel so good, big boy.”

He moans. “Fuck. So do you.”

He rolls his hips into her again and again, slow, gentle movements, deliberate lovemaking. It feels so good, but even though he thought she was so tight he might just come immediately, he needs more.

“Baby, this feels so good but I really need to come…”

She nods and lets him pull her on top of him as he rolls onto his back, his hands moving to her ass to help her move faster on his dick, curses and moans falling from his lips as he gets closer. He puts his feet up on the bed so he has something to push against as he starts to fuck her from underneath, harder and faster until he finally feels himself start to come undone, grunting and moaning and holding her hips whilst he empties himself inside her.

“Shit. Fuck.”

She falls forwards, her head on his chest, panting as he wraps his arms around her. He’s lying there, completely blissed out, when he suddenly thinks of something.

“Fuck. Should I have pulled out?”

She shifts to look at him, shaking her head. “No. I’m on the pill.”

He frowns a little. “Thought he didn’t want to sleep with you? What d’you need to be on the pill for?”

Gloria sighs. “He doesn’t want to sleep with me. I don’t want to talk about Roger right now, Elvis. I want to lie here with you.”

Again, Elvis holds back. He thinks there’s something wrong here, she’s lying about something, but he can’t work out what it is. But this is their last night together, and judging by the other two nights, she’ll be asleep soon. He has to make the most of the time they have.

They talk a little more, him trying to persuade her to divorce Roger and move to Graceland with him, and her explaining again that it’s not all that simple.

“I have to find a job, my kids won’t just feed themselves.”

“What about your daddy? Surely he’d help you out?”

“My dad thinks he’s handed me off to Roger now. He’s not going to help me. This is all my problem.”

“Well if he won’t then I will.”

“No, Elvis. I can’t take your money. I’ll be fine, it just might take a while.”

“And then you’ll come and live with me?”

She rubs his chest, leaning her head against and not meeting his eyes whilst she lies to him.

“Yeah. Sure. Then we’ll come and live with you.”

***

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Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

#elvis #elvis presley

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jhoneybees · 7 days ago

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This is so sweet lovelies, my god🥹

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Summary: In 1968, Angela and Elvis struggle with the pressures of parenthood and his comeback special. Through arguments and doubt, they find strength in each other as they prepare for their baby.

Couple: Angela!Black!Oc x 1968!Elvis

TW: angst, pregnancy, change of moods, arguments, fluff… and I think that’s it. Ah! Also the colonel (just a brief appearance)

A/N: Hello! I appeared here just to post this fanfic, I’ve been writing it in a couple of days (mostly in my breaks and lunch’s, I hope you guys enjoy it! Love yall!

Los Angeles, 1968

The lights of the rehearsal room cast long shadows on the walls as Elvis strummed his guitar, his voice low and soulful as he practiced “If I Can Dream” for what felt like the hundredth time. The world outside was changing, and this song felt like a lifeline—a message of hope he could cling to amid the chaos.

But chaos wasn’t just out there. It was creeping into his home life too. Angela, his wife of just over a year, was in her third trimester of pregnancy, and while he loved her more than life itself, things had been… tense.

The Colonel clapped his hands sharply. “Elvis, son, you’re dragging on that note. Again!”

Elvis gritted his teeth and forced a smile. “Let’s take five.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Grabbing his jacket, he walked out of the rehearsal room, needing air, needing space—needing her.

—————————————————

When he opened the door to their house, the sound of Angela sobbing hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Angie?” he called out, his voice soft yet urgent.

“In here,” came her muffled reply.

He followed the sound to their bedroom. Angela sat on the edge of the bed, surrounded by baby clothes, her face buried in her hands.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said gently, sitting beside her. “What’s goin’ on?”

She lifted her head, her tear-streaked face crumpling at the sight of him. “I’m sorry, Elvis. I didn’t mean to fall apart like this.”

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “You don’t have to apologize, Angie. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I don’t know how to be a mother. And everything’s changing so fast—I feel like I’m losing myself.”

Elvis tightened his grip on her. “You’re not losing yourself, baby. You’re just… growin’. And that ain’t easy, I know. But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m right here with you.”

Angela let out a bitter laugh. “Are you, though? You’re always at the studio or rehearsals. And when you’re here, you’re so tired, I feel like I’m just another burden.”

Elvis froze, her words cutting deeper than he expected. “Angie, you’re not a burden. You’re my whole world. If I’ve made you feel like anything less, I’m sorry.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if I mess this up? What if I’m not good enough?”

Elvis cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Listen to me. You’re more than good enough. You’re smart, you’re strong, and you’ve got more love in your heart than anyone I’ve ever known. This baby is lucky to have you as their mama.”

She broke into fresh tears, and Elvis held her as she sobbed, rocking her gently like he imagined he’d rock their child.

——————————————————-

The next morning, Elvis tried to linger at home, but Angela’s mood had swung in the opposite direction.

“Don’t you have rehearsal?” she asked coldly as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, but I was thinkin’ I’d stay with you a little longer,” he said cautiously.

She turned to him, her eyes sharp. “Oh, now you want to stay? Don’t let me keep you from your comeback special, Elvis. God forbid I get in the way of your big return.”

“Angie,” he said, setting down his mug, “where’s this comin’ from?”

“Where do you think?” she snapped. “You’re out there preparing for your big moment while I’m stuck here, getting bigger and more miserable by the second.”

His patience wavered. “You think I don’t care about what you’re going through? You think this is easy for me, Angie? I’m bustin’ my ass out there to make sure we have everything we need—for you, for the baby, for all of us.”

Angela’s eyes blazed with anger. “Don’t you dare act like you’re the only one sacrificing, Elvis. I’ve given up everything for this! My career, my body, my peace of mind—I don’t even recognize myself anymore!”

Her voice cracked, and for a moment, Elvis could see the raw fear behind her anger.

He softened, stepping closer. “Angie, I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But we’ve got to stick together. I can’t do this without you, and you don’t have to do it alone.”

She folded her arms over her chest, her defenses still up. “Then prove it. Stop running back to the studio every time things get hard here. I need you, Elvis. Not the singer. Not the superstar. Just you.”

Her words hit him hard, the weight of her vulnerability settling into his chest. He took her hands in his, ignoring the stiffness in her posture.

“I hear you, Angie. And I’m sorry if I’ve been distant. I just… I want this special to be something I’m proud of, somethin’ I can show our child one day and say, ‘Your daddy did this.’ But I don’t ever want you to think it matters more than you do. It doesn’t.”

Her expression softened, though the tension in her shoulders remained. “I don’t need perfection, Elvis. I need you here. Even when it’s messy.”

He nodded, pulling her into his arms. “You’ve got me, baby. Mess and all.”

——————————————————-

That evening, Elvis stayed home. They sat on the couch together, Angela curled up against his side, a blanket draped over her swollen belly. She wasn’t saying much, and her silence made him uneasy.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, running his fingers through her curls.

She sighed heavily. “I don’t even know what to say. It’s like I’m two different people these days. One minute, I’m happy, and the next, I’m crying over spilled milk—literally. I hate feeling so out of control.”

Elvis kissed the top of her head. “You’re not out of control, darlin’. You’re just human. And growin’ a little human, too. That’s bound to mess with you a bit.”

She gave a weak laugh. “It feels like more than ‘a bit.’ Sometimes I wonder if I’m even cut out for this.”

“You are,” he said firmly. “I know it. And if you ever forget, I’ll remind you every day if I have to.”

Angela looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “You really believe that?”

“With all my heart,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “We’re gonna get through this, Angie. One step at a time.”

——————————————————-

A week later, Angela joined Elvis at his rehearsal, hoping the change of scenery would lift her spirits. But watching him on stage, so in his element, brought a flood of unexpected emotions.

She sat in the corner, quietly stewing, until the band broke for a short break. Elvis walked over to her, smiling.

“You doin’ okay?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“Fine,” she said flatly, her eyes averted.

He frowned, picking up on her mood. “You sure? You look upset.”

“Well, maybe that’s because I’ve been sitting here for an hour, watching you have the time of your life while I feel like a beached whale!” she snapped, her voice louder than she intended.

The room fell silent as the band and crew turned to stare. Elvis blinked, taken aback by her sudden outburst.

“Angela,” he began, his voice low, “maybe we should talk about this somewhere private.”

She stood, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “Why? So I don’t ruin the image of Elvis Presley’s perfect life? Newsflash, Elvis—my life isn’t perfect! And right now, neither is yours!”

She stormed out, leaving Elvis standing there, stunned.

——————————————————-

When Elvis got home that night, Angela was in their bedroom, lying on her side and staring at the wall. He sat on the edge of the bed, his heart heavy.

“Angie, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “For puttin’ you in a spot like that today. I should’ve been payin’ more attention to how you were feelin’.”

She didn’t respond, her silence thick with tension.

He hesitated, then added, “But you gotta talk to me, darlin’. If somethin’s eatin’ at you, I need to know. I can’t help if I don’t understand.”

After a long pause, she turned to face him, her eyes red from crying. “I’m scared, Elvis. Scared I’m losing myself. Scared I’ll never be enough—for you, for this baby. And I hate that I keep taking it out on you.”

He took her hand, pressing it to his lips. “You ain’t losing yourself, Angie. You’re just changing. And change is hard, but it’s also beautiful. You’re gonna be an amazing mama, and you’re more than enough for me. I just need you to believe that.”

Her lip quivered as she whispered, “I want to believe it.”

“Then let me help you,” he said, his voice full of determination. “We’ll get through this together, baby. You and me, always.”

For the first time in days, she smiled—a small, fragile thing, but real.

“I love you,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he replied, holding her close as the weight of their fears slowly began to lift.

——————————————————-

When their son was born a month later, Elvis stood beside Angela in the hospital room, tears streaming down his face as he held their tiny miracle.

“You did it, Angie,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

“No,” she said, smiling up at him. “We did it.”

And as Elvis looked at her, exhausted but radiant, he realized she was right. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

🏷️ TAG LIST!: @jhoneybees @kxnnxy @gyratingpresley

#elvis presley #elvis fans

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