sloppiest-of-jos

[sloppiest-of-jos]

YES. THAT IS WHY. HELLO.

ELVIS.

Parade Magazine, 1978

(photo is from 1955 at the Peabody in Memphis)

[sloppiest-of-jos]

Little Darling

Chapter 2 - Love's in hiding

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 4.3K

TWs: Angst, body image issues, thigh riding.

A/N: Thanks all for the lovely comments on the last part. I'm planning on posting every other day so that I can make the Christmas part line up with Christmas... but we'll see!

“We need to make you look so good there’s no way he can say no.”

Maria is a woman on a mission. She’s standing with her hands on her hips, eyeliner pencil between her teeth, looking like she’s planning a military operation. When she’d heard from Tegan what had happened she’d been annoyed and her protective instincts had kicked in, suggesting not going to Graceland and even not going back to karate until Elvis left again. But that wasn’t what Tegan wanted, not really. So she switched to second best, which is making Elvis sorry he’d said he just wanted to be friends. This had led her to turn up bright and early at Tegan’s flat to make her shower, shave, bluff, pluck… and anything else that she could think of. Nails are painted and whilst they wait for them to dry she tries in vain to get her friend to wear anything on her face other than a little mascara. 

Tegan shakes her head. “I’m terrible with make-up. I’ll just get it everywhere and eat all my lipstick off.”

Maria sighs but eventually decides to let it go, knowing she’ll have a battle on her hands anyway when it comes to choosing a swimsuit. And when the other woman comes out wearing a frumpy-looking one piece she knows she was right. 

“You can’t go in that. Why don’t you wear a bikini?”

“Lisa said swimsuit.”

“I think you’re taking that a bit literally. I’m sure she just meant swimming costume generally. She definitely didn’t mean that ugly thing.”

Tegan grumbles, looking down at her swimming costume. She doesn’t think it looks that bad, but she’ll have to let Maria win on something. She already conceded the make-up thing, she’ll probably make the clothes her hill to die on. She goes back into her room and changes into a pink two piece, which does look better, though it’s a bit bright. She’s not sure what possessed her to buy it in the first place, really. 

“Oh that looks good. What about that?”

Tegan screws her face up. “I dunno, Mar. It’s a bit… garish.”

“You’re a bit garish,” Maria jokes, gesturing at Tegan’s extensive tattoos. 

“Hmmmm. I don’t have to go in the pool, you know. I can’t swim. Maybe I’ll just conveniently forget my swimming stuff.”

Maria shakes her head. “No. He’s going to know what he’s missing out on.” She gets up and bodily pushes Tegan back into her room again. “Why don’t you try the black one on?”

The black one seems like the best option, even though Tegan can’t quite get her head around the idea of stripping off to what she considers her underwear in public. She’s never been big on bikinis on the beach either. After some debate she decides on a long floral summer dress, and spends the next half an hour curling her hair. 

“I don’t know why I’m doing this. I have to put it up anyway.”

“No you don’t. You look good with your hair down.”

“But it’s hot. And you want me to go in the pool.”

“Why don’t you arrive with your hair down and then put it up if you want to get in the pool?” 

Tegan groans. “Okay. Fine. But it’s your fault if I get there looking like a sweaty mess.”

Maria just decides to take that, resisting the temptation to talk about the air conditioning in the car. Some things just aren’t worth it. 

When she’s finally ready Tegan makes herself a gin and tonic and waits for an hour before leaving, chatting with her friend and drumming her fingers on the table impatiently. Maria had suggested it was better to make Elvis wait and she’d agreed, but she's nervous and she doesn't want all this extra time to think in. Graceland seems like such a fabled place, almost the stuff of dreams, that she can't quite believe she's going there. 

Maria gives her a big hug goodbye and some encouraging words before she sets off. She offers again to go with her, but Tegan thinks she should go on her own, since she was the only one who was strictly speaking invited. She doesn’t love talking to strangers, but at least Lisa will be there. And Elvis. He did say he wanted to spend more time with her, even if it was as friends. 

***

Elvis spends most of the day pacing about the house and trying to find things to keep his hands busy. And then when guests start to arrive, he insists on answering the door himself, every time wondering if it will be Tegan. On more than one occasion Sonny tries to tell him that he can just look and see who it is on the CCTV, but he’s not listening. The house is getting full and she still hasn’t arrived. Why did he let Lisa invite her? Or, more to the point, why did he say he wanted to see her as a friend? He doesn’t want to see her as a friend, that’s bullshit and he knows it. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he stands in the living room, watching people mingle. A friend is all she can be. He’s been down this road before and it ended terribly. He can’t put himself through that again. 

When the doorbell goes at around 4pm, Elvis strides over to the door as usual and flings it open. He’s so used to it not being Tegan, that when he looks and it is her he almost doesn’t recognise her. That, and the fact that she looks completely different out of her karate gear. Her dark brown hair is streaked with grey and frames her face in a sea of loose curls, and her eyes somehow look especially green. His eyes dart over her face and then trail down her body, and he can’t help noticing how good her breasts look in the long summer dress she’s wearing. He clears his throat and quickly looks back up again, but not before he sees her painted toenails. Cute feet, he thinks. He’d noticed them during class, but she didn’t usually paint her nails. 

“Well hi here.”

Tegan smiles. It’s hard not to smile at him. “Hi yourself. Can I come in?”

Elvis gestures dramatically with one arm, making her laugh a little. She steps inside the house and lets him lead her around, his hand on her elbow. He immediately starts introducing her to people, a sea of names she has no hope of remembering. Then he takes her outside, where there are sun loungers and even more people. She looks around, feeling a little overwhelmed at the sheer number of strangers, as he sits down on a lounger, striking up conversation with a couple of guys near him. She stands there awkwardly for a minute, before realising he’s expecting her to find somewhere else to sit. 

She wanders to the nearest free one, looking around for Lisa and sitting down when she fails to see her. People nearby introduce themselves and make a little idle chit chat, and then go back to talking to one another. She feels like everyone knows each other, and she’s the odd one out. Lying back on the lounger with her sunglasses on, she wonders why on earth she didn’t bring Maria, who absolutely thrives in this sort of situation. That’s why they were such good friends. Tegan doesn’t think of herself as an introvert, exactly. But she feels awkward in situations like this, and Maria definitely doesn’t. She just didn't expect quite this many people. Sighing softly, she thinks about how she's misinterpreted him again somehow. Will she ever learn?

Elvis isn’t that interested in this conversation with Sonny and Joe but he felt like he had to do something to stop Tegan sitting with him. Although now that’s all he wants, stealing little glances at her lying on her lounger, basking in the sun. He might’ve thought of her as a little cute before, but in that dress her body is becoming a bit of a distraction. He needs to take his mind off it. 

“Hey Charlie, let’s start a pool game!” He calls over to his old friend. 

Charlie’s enthusiasm for following Elvis’ instructions hasn’t dimmed over time, much to his wife’s irritation. He immediately shouts “yes boss!” strips down to his trunks and grabs the nearest inflatable ball. Elvis continues with the instructions, telling people to get into teams and explaining the rules which he’s mostly just made up on the spot. The noise and general jostling of her lounger make Tegan open her eyes again and sit up, trying to work out what’s going on. One of the women nearby turns to her. 

“You wanna join? They’re playing some kind of ball game in the pool.”

She doesn’t. She doesn’t want to strip off in front of people and she also doesn’t really like swimming pool games, since she can’t swim. But then she thinks of Maria’s voice in her head, telling her she has to show Elvis what he’s missing out on. And how long it took for the two of them to agree on a bikini. She should probably try and show willing, and at least this seems easier than making small talk about other people’s small children. 

“Yeah, why not.”

There are so many people chaotically stumbling around, taking their clothes off, shouting and some even pushing each other into the pool that Tegan feels like she gets in fairly unnoticed. Elvis notices though. He has to make an effort to keep his mouth from falling open. She has the most tattoos of any woman he’s ever seen, and as she turns to fold her dress up and place it on the lounger, he notices she has the best ass he’s seen in a long time too. He watches her get into the pool slowly and carefully, standing at the shallower end. This is actually not less distracting than her being on the lounger at all. This is a lot more distracting. The only solution is to cause as much chaos as possible. 

“Alright, let’s go!” He shouts, and then absolute pandemonium breaks loose. 

There are people diving for the ball left, right and centre, people being tackled, pushed under the water and all the while they’re shouting for some kind of judgement from Elvis as if he’s an impartial referee. But he just keeps changing the rules. Tegan looks in disbelief as it all unfolds around her. A lot of the guys are the same sort of age as Elvis and not all of them look in as good health as he does, so it’s somewhat alarming to see them behaving in such an unhinged way over a beach ball. He continues to make arbitrary decisions on scores and yells at the top of his lungs whenever one side seems to be clearly winning against the other. Tegan has a strong urge to put her fingers in her ears. She had imagined a much more sedate affair when she’d heard the words Saturday afternoon barbeque. She knew that Elvis and his friends had a reputation of being loud and even a bit obnoxious when they were younger, pulling pranks and playing games, but she hadn’t thought they’d still be doing it in their sixties. When everyone starts to slow down due to obvious tiredness Elvis suggests a five minute break and Tegan breathes a sigh of relief.

“Why don’t you get in here, E?” Someone calls. 

“Nah. I’m good.”

Sonny shakes his head, deciding he’s had enough of being told what to do for one day and getting out of the pool. 

“You’re going in. Up to you whether you take your shirt off first.”

Tegan watches as the pair of them scrap, laughing and slipping around on the edge of the pool before Sonny jumps back in and pulls Elvis, fully-clothed, in with him. 

“Sonofabitch,” Elvis laughs, whipping his head round to get his wet hair out of his eyes. 

Tegan can’t help smiling to herself seeing him so wet. It seems like justice since he’d been one of the primary instigators of making so much noise. 

“That’s what you get for not joining in,” she mutters. 

Elvis spins around, finding her right behind him. “Oh. Is that so, Queenie? Ya don’t look too wet yerself.”

Before she can say anything in response he starts splashing her. She squeals and jumps up to sit on the side of the pool, wiping her face with both hands. Grateful she didn’t take Maria’s advice and put a full face of make-up on. 

“You’re going to ruin my hair,” she tells him as he stands between her legs, a hand on either side of her hips on the side of the pool. “It took ages, you know.”

“It still looks good,” he tells her, unable to help himself gazing into her eyes. 

“Well I’m sure it looks better than yours right now,” she replies, a teasing smile on her face. 

“What d’ya mean?” He demands, fake outrage in his voice as he pushes it back from his face and tries to style it into the way he used to wear it in the 50s. “Ya don’t like this?” He curls his lip into a sneer and she cracks up immediately. He looks like one of those impersonators she sees at the seaside when she goes home. A middle-aged man pretending to be something he’s not. 

“I love it,” she replies, still sniggering. 

His eyes trail over her body almost against his will and hers linger on the way his wet shirt is clinging to his torso. He breathes out a little sigh. She looks so damn good in this bikini, he thinks. He has to move before he does something he regrets.

“Right, that’s enough rest for you reprobates. Back ta the game!”

Tegan lets go of the breath she didn’t realise she was holding, and slides back down into the pool for another round of fight to the death over a beach ball. She looks over at him a few times, now playing as well as deciding all the rules, and feels a tingling start between her legs. He looks good all wet, she thinks. She breathes out hard and narrowly avoids being hit in the face by the ball, dodging to the side and then getting out of the pool. That’s enough watersports for one day. 

She pulls on her cover up and lies back down in the sun, wondering again what’s going on with Elvis. He had looked so close to kissing her, but then changed his mind and went back to the game. She just can’t figure him out, and eventually she gives up trying, unable to work it out with just pure logic. Instead she wonders when this so-called barbeque will actually start. She tries asking a few people but only gets vague responses. She’s getting really hungry, but it seems like everyone else is just content to drink and play pool games, and she still can’t find Lisa, though she’s afraid to venture too far into the house. Elvis is still avoiding her, so she starts to wonder exactly what she’s doing here at all. She decides maybe it’s time to leave. 

“Elvis.” She stands next to his lounger, her bag on her arm. 

“Yes, honey.”

“I’m gonna go. I um… yeah I think I should go.”

She sees his face start to screw up in confusion and then decides she can’t manage this conversation and turns on her heel, quickly striding through the outdoor area and into the house. 

Lisa sees her walking through the house with her bag on her shoulder, heading for the door, and runs to where her dad is still sitting, dumbfounded. “If you don’t go after her, I will. And there’s no telling what I’ll say.”

Elvis sighs and gets up, picking his way through the people and their possessions, all strewn about the place. 

“Tegan! Tegan! Wait!”

She’s right at the front door, and she knows she could just open it and leave. But there’s that pull again, that magnetism. It’s like she’s powerless to resist him. She turns around, reluctantly, and finds him much closer than she’d imagined. He puts a hand on either side of her shoulders, against the door, almost pinning her there. He’s panting a little from moving so quickly and she can feel his breath on her face.

“Don’t go, Queenie.”

His wet hair flops down into his face and his blue eyes stare deeply into hers. She feels like a tiny insect under a microscope, trapped beneath his gaze.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Elvis. I can’t take these mixed signals anymore and I… I just want to go home. Everything here is so… loud.”

As if to prove her point, there’s a loud bang from outside and then a cheer. 

Elvis carries on looking at her in that intense way, really wanting her to stay now.

“Okay, they are a little loud,” he concedes. “Sorry, honey. And I… I’m sorry ‘bout the other thing, too. But I don’t want ya t‘leave.”

His eyes flick down to her lips and then back to her eyes. He can’t help himself. The way her cover-up is sticking to her wet bikini top, making it see-through, is driving him crazy and all he wants to do is kiss her. And then run his fingertips all over her body.

He’s so close she can feel the heat radiating off him. There’s something in his eyes that makes her think he’s going to kiss her, and then when she looks back at him he does, soft lips pressing gently against hers. He pulls back, and before he can ask if that was okay, she’s tugging his head back down to crash their mouths together this time. Elvis Presley is kissing her in the doorway of Graceland. And he’s just as good a kisser as the girls’ annuals and gossip magazines when she was a teenager suggested he might be. His tongue explores her mouth patiently and gently whilst hers presses urgently deeper and deeper, her hand on the back of his neck pulling him in closer. She wants all of him. She wants this kiss to just go on forever. 

When they eventually pull apart, they stare at one another breathlessly for a minute and then both giggle, like teenagers. 

“C’mon. Yer not gonna leave now, are ya?” Elvis asks.

She smiles. “No, I guess not. Although I’m going to have to have some of this promised barbeque food soon, I’m starving.”

“Thought ya seemed a little hungry,” he teases, taking her hand and pulling her back outside. 

***

Elvis instructs someone or other to fire up the barbeque and manages to tear himself away from talking to everyone else to spend some time with Tegan. After actually being fed and drinking more than a few cocktails, Tegan and Lisa get to talking and by the time she looks around the party has really thinned out. She sees Elvis laying back on a lounger, surveying the mess and listening to the dying sounds of the party inside. She gets up and wanders towards him and he spreads his legs, patting the space between them. 

“C’mere.”

Despite the kissing and the cocktails, Tegan is still not about to sit right up against someone unless they specifically ask, so she settles somewhere near the bottom of the lounger. Elvis shakes his head and clicks his tongue, grabbing her hips and pulling her towards him so that she’s right between his legs, her back against his chest. It’s one of his old moves that he barely thinks twice about, although he really hasn’t tried it for a long time. It works though, she relaxes against him, smiling at the feeling of him wrapped around her, his arms around her waist. 

He kisses her temple. He’s missed touching a woman like this, but he can feel it all coming back to him like riding a bike. “Y’look so good, Tegan,” he murmurs in her ear. 

She giggles. “It’s Teh-gaan,” she teases. 

He squeezes her more tightly and exaggerates the Welsh pronunciation in her ear, his breath tickling her. “Teeeeehhhh-gaaaaan.”

She keeps giggling, trying to wriggle away from his tickling lips. “Stop it! Ha!”

He kisses underneath her ear and thinks of something. “Is it Welsh? What does it mean?”

She nods. “It means darling. Or, loved one. Or, literally, toy.”

Elvis’ eyes light up and he nuzzles her neck. “Little Tegan,” he murmurs. 

“Tegan bach,” she replies. 

“What?”

“That’s “little darling” in Welsh.”

“Say it again.”

She turns her head to look at him. “Tegan bach. You have to make a noise like a cat hissing. Chhhhhh.”

They both snigger, and Tegan thinks that this is her favourite way to be with him. When his face is all scrunched up with amusement and his eyes are shining. When he’s looking at her like she’s the only girl in the world.

“Tegan bach,” he tries, and it’s not a bad attempt. 

“Yeah. That’ll do.”

She lies back down again and he nuzzles into her neck again too. There’s something very comforting about it for both of them, and part of both of them wants to stay in this position forever. But that’s not practical. 

“I should go home,” she says, after a while. 

Elvis sighs. If he were much younger he’d definitely have asked her to stay. But she’s probably right about going home. 

“Can I drive you?”

“Yes please. I’ve had too many margaritas to do it myself.”

They walk towards the front door together, Tegan gathering her things on the way. Elvis tells Sonny what he plans to do, and that he’ll call when he gets there so someone can pick him up and take him back to Graceland. Luckily Sonny had decided not to drink, having the feeling he might be needed for some foolish task or other. He doesn’t like Elvis doing this kind of thing, although he’s bothered a lot less by fans than he used to be, it still seems like an unnecessary risk. On the other hand, he hasn’t shown this much interest in a woman for a long time. So Sonny just nods and says he’ll wait for the call. 

There aren’t many dedicated gate fans nowadays, and certainly not at this time of night, so no-one sees Elvis driving a woman out of Graceland in her car. As soon as they’re clear of the gates he pulls Tegan closer to him, his arm around her shoulders for most of the journey. She’s not sure that’s exactly safe, but she likes the way it feels so she doesn’t say anything. 

She lets him into her apartment so that he can use the phone, and once he’s got hold of Sonny he sits down in her armchair. 

“He’ll be fifteen or so. Why don’tcha c’mere?”

Once again, Tegan isn’t sure exactly what he means, and she thinks it’s a bit forward to just sit on his lap, so she walks towards him until she’s stood between his spread thighs. He shakes his head a little and with what she considers to be a surprising show of strength, picks her up with his hands on her waist and plonks her down so she’s sat straddling his thigh. She rests her hands lightly on his shoulders, trying to steady herself as she feels her heart beating out of her chest. 

“Can’t take my eyes off ya,” he tells her, his hands running all over her body. 

She blushes, then leans forward and captures his lips in another kiss. Smiling against her, his big hands run up her thigh, her back. 

“Can ya take this off?” He mumbles against her lips, pulling lightly at the sleeve of the cover-up. 

She nods and pulls it up and over her head, sitting there in just her bikini now. He can tell how much she likes kissing so he pulls her into another passionate one, feeling as she responds, her hands on the back of his neck, tongue exploring his mouth. She starts to rock her hips just a little, enjoying the feeling of rubbing herself against him. She loves the way his hands hold her, with just the right amount of pressure. One makes its way to her hip and starts to help manoeuvre her, dragging her against him. She breathes a little harder and presses her body against his, leaning her head on his shoulder. His fingers grip her hips as his other hand moves there too, rolling her pussy against his leg. He tries to listen for her reaction, but she’s so quiet he can’t tell if she’s getting anywhere. 

“Is it good, honey?”

Tegan breathes out a little sigh. “Yeah.”

He kisses her neck as he carries on moving her, bouncing his leg a little at the same time, listening as her breathing gets faster and louder and she lets out a tiny moan. 

“Relax, baby. Yer all tense.” 

He can feel her body, taut like a bow, like she’s straining for something. She is. It’s good, but it’s not getting her anywhere, and she can feel herself getting frustrated. Just then, there’s a bang at the door. Sonny. She jumps up and reaches for her cover-up, pulling it back over her head. 

“You better go.”

Elvis is stunned at how quickly she moved. And he can’t remember the last time he left a woman unsatisfied. 

“I uh… Sonny can wait y’know. If ya wanna finish.”

Tegan laughs. “Sonny’ll be waiting until the sun comes up at this rate.”

She sees Elvis’ reaction and immediately realises what she’s said, putting her hand over her face. “I didn’t mean… it’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m like this.”

Elvis shakes his head, getting up and putting his arms around her. God, he really wants to stay. If only he could. “Not your fault at all honey, I rushed it. I’ll take my time, next time.”

Tegan looks at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, next time, is it?”

“Mmmm.” He pulls her into another kiss and she feels dizzy. 

There’s another bang at the door. 

“You better go.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Elvis puts his lips to her ear again and murmurs, “think of me while ya finish, hm?”

Tegan grins, letting him kiss her goodbye and then watching as he walks down the stairs to the door. 

It wouldn’t be the first time, she thinks to herself.

***

Part 3

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

[sloppiest-of-jos]

Day 16 - Flashing

Pairing: 1972!Elvis x reader

Word count: 1.4K

TWs: Flashing (obv), piercings, dry humping.

Kinktober masterlist

Elvis looks out into the crowd and somewhere amongst the usual outstretched arms and screaming faces he sees you. He makes eye contact, and something about you makes him want to hold it a little longer than usual. And then all of a sudden you pull down your little strappy top, exposing your breasts. Luckily it’s during an instrumental, because he actually gasps. It’s not as if he’s never seen breasts before (he’s seen a lot of breasts) and it’s not as if he hasn’t been flashed before either. (In case you couldn’t work that out for yourself, he’s been flashed a lot of times too). It’s just, he swears your nipples are twinkling. Like they have something sparkly on them, or… in them? He’s just about managing to focus on them so he can work out exactly what’s happening when one of the security guards grabs hold of you and pulls you away. 

No. 

He strides over to Charlie. “Find me that woman,” he says, and then launches back into another verse. 

Poor Charlie spends a few stressful minutes finishing up the song before he can dive over to Jerry, who is standing at his usual place at the back of the stage, and ask him if he has any idea what on earth their boss is on about. Between Jerry and Joe, they figure out who you are and find you. Luckily you’d charmed the security guard into letting you stay in the venue, and although you’re surprised when Joe introduces you and explains what he wants, you don’t show it. After all, you’d flashed Elvis for a reason. 

***

Elvis is still in his sweaty jumpsuit when Joe produces you, like a rabbit from a hat. He huffs. He’d wanted to shower before he saw you, or at least he’d thought you’d just be brought into the car with him, or taken directly to the hotel. But Joe explains that for some complicated reason he’s not being driven straight away, like normal. Elvis doesn’t want all of these people in the room either. He usually likes a lot of company, but right now all he can think of is pulling that top down and having a proper look at what you’d flashed him earlier. He’s really been having some fun on this tour and he wants it to continue. 

“Hi there, honey,” he coos, dazzling you with eye contact. “Joe, get rid of everyone and close that door behind you.” 

Joe looks a little shocked but does as he’s told. The room is empty in two minutes flat, and Elvis turns to lock the door. 

“I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted us to have a little privacy.”

You think you should be afraid to be alone in a room with a man you’ve only just met, but something about him is instantly reassuring. And more than a little charming. 

“I don’t mind,” you reply, telling him your name when he asks.

You talk for a while. Even with the mood he’s in, Elvis finds it difficult to just ask you to pull your top down, but you notice him looking down every so often, eyes drawn to the way your nipples are showing through the fabric.

When he does it for about the fifth time in a row, you can’t help giggling. “You want another look?” 

“Uh.. what? I…uh…” he stumbles over his words, blushing in a way that you can’t help but find endearing. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Pulling your top up and over your head, you sit in front of him half-naked now. His eyes skate over your skin and settle on your nipples. They’re still sparkling. They’re pierced. You watch his eyes get wide as if he’s trying to comprehend something he’s never seen before. 

“You can touch if you want,” you tell him, gently. 

You’d never have believed Elvis Presley would be like this. He’s almost shy. His arm stretches out and his fingertips ghost over your nipple, cautiously but somehow sensually enough to make the hairs on your neck stand on end. 

“Is that okay?”

You nod, shuffling yourself a little closer to him on the sofa. “You can move them, you know. The piercings. It feels good.”

His expression changes from wary cautiousness to concentration as one hand cups your right breast and the other gently starts to twist the piercing in your left nipple. You let out a little sigh and he’s encouraged to carry on, manipulating one nipple with his fingers as he lets his tongue investigate the other. Whimpering, you dig your fingers into his sweaty hair, holding him in place. He’s good with his hands but his mouth is something else. You feel yourself instantly get wet thinking about what else he might be able to do with it. 

He pulls back and looks at you, your flushed face and nibbled on lower lip. He’s never seen pierced nipples before, and if someone had told him about them he’d probably have been freaked out. But he likes playing with them. And you seem to like him playing with them too. He lies you down on the sofa with him on top, kissing you thoroughly. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively and somehow you’re in the perfect position to feel his erection pressing against your clothed pussy. 

“Mmmm.”

He starts to roll his hips against you, feeling the delicious friction on his dick. He hasn’t done this in a long time. He’d usually go down on a girl these days, or maybe fuck if he was feeling particularly energetic. But rubbing himself on you feels so good, and it seems like you feel the same way, if your moans are anything to go by. 

“EP! EP!” 

Elvis groans at the shout from outside of the dressing room but doesn’t stop rutting his hips into you, even when he shouts back, “what?” 

“Two minutes! We’ve got to get in the car.”

He looks at you and rolls his eyes, making you giggle. He still doesn’t stop what he’s doing though, and you can feel your orgasm building. 

“Fine!”

His head dips down and he nibbles on your jaw. “You close, baby?”

You nod, frantically. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

You hang on around his neck as his movements get faster, eyes rolling back in your head at the sound of him grunting in your ear. 

“Fuck, baby.”

Somehow you both hit your highs at almost the same time, pleasure shooting through you as he feels warm wetness in his pants. He lies on top of you, panting a little and starting to feel a bit embarrassed about what he’s just done. You, on the other hand, can’t stop thinking about it. Have you really just made him cum in his pants? In that gorgeous jumpsuit? 

“Did you cum?” You whisper.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, face hot with embarrassment. Firstly, that a girl said the word ‘cum’, and secondly that yes, he had indeed shot his load right in his pants, like a horny 18 year old. 

“Hmmm.”

You bite your lip. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

He shifts to look into your eyes. “You need to stop all this cussing, little girl. Or I’ll have to wash your mouth out with soap.” 

He sounds deadly serious and you freeze for a moment. Then he bursts out laughing. You shove him in the chest as you laugh too. 

“You think it’s hot?” He asks, when he’s calmed down. 

You nod quickly. 

“EP!”

Elvis sighs loudly and sits up. “GIVE ME FIVE MINUTES!” He yells. 

The voice on the other side of the door apologises and its owner disappears. 

“Listen, honey. You wanna come back to the hotel with me tonight? And maybe on the rest of the tour?”

You sit up slowly, staring at him in shock. Truth be told, there’s not much keeping you here right now. You just can’t quite believe that he wants you to go on tour with him. 

“I’d love to.” 

He grins. He doesn’t want to let you go without ever seeing your pussy. Plus, you’re more than a little fun. 

“Just one condition,” you add.

“Hmmm?”

“You give me those pants you’re wearing.”

Taglist:

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

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @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

[sloppiest-of-jos]

I'm caught in a trap... (and I don't want out)

[sloppiest-of-jos]

[sloppiest-of-jos]

[sloppiest-of-jos]

Elvis' mannerisms · Tongue ·

[sloppiest-of-jos]

[sloppiest-of-jos]

დ︎ “after class.” — elvis x fem! reader დ︎

note: teacher elvis + requested / warnings: MDNI, age-gap, fingering, slight coercion, oral m-receiving, power imbalance, no protection, p in v sex, that's about it i think :3 / summary: mr. presley asks you to stay after class.

You jerk your head up as the shrieking of the seventh-period bell fills your ears. You look around the room and through wide eyes you watch students leave the classroom, leaving you behind. You groan and rub your eyes before struggling to stand up, trying to adjust to the bright LED lights of the classroom. “Hold on there, Missy.” You hear a deep voice at the front of the room say, shit. You freeze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you recognize that voice. Mr. Presley, your English teacher,  he's leaning against his desk, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes are locked onto you, and you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. “Me n’ you gonna have a talk.” He adds and motions for you to sit back down, you sleepily nod and walk back to your desk in silence. Sitting down at your desk you scanned his face for any sign of frustration or anger…but you couldn’t make out his expression. Almost amused. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I didn’t sleep well last night.” You explained, just wanting to head home. Mr. Presley chuckles softly, pushing off from his desk and walking towards you. He pulls up a chair, turning it backward and straddling it, his elbows resting on the backrest. "Ain't no need to apologize. I've seen worse things happen in this classroom." He chuckles slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "But tell me this, why is it that every time I see ya, you're either sleepin’ or daydreamin’? Is my teaching that boring?" He tilts his head, studying you. You blush slightly, looking down at your hands fidgeting in your lap.

"No, sir. Your classes are... interesting. It's just...haven’t been sleeping well n’ I just get so distracted." You peek up at him through your lashes. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Presley. I don't mean to seem disrespectful…" You apologize, it’s sincere but you can't help but wonder if your sleepy voice makes you sound ignorant. "Ain't about disrespect," he replies, his voice low and smooth. "More about payin’ attention.” He let out a soft exhale, the smirk still on his lips. “You’re fallin’ behind…grades are slippin’ and the school years just bout over.” You cringe a bit, he wasn’t lying. Your grades had always been good, A’s and B’s- but now you were barely passing. Mr. Presley leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell ya what, Missy. I ain't one for just lettin' kids fail. I believe in givin' everyone a fair shot." He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You’re gonna stay with me here for a bit. Help ya catch up.” 

You nod, your heart still racing as you agree. Mr. Presley watches you intently, his gaze lingering on your flushed face. He smiles at you and you can't help but wonder what he has in mind.  "First things first," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Let's start with your notes from today's lesson, lemme see what ya’ got.” Sighing softly, you opened your bag pulling out your notes to which half were unintelligible scribbles and the rest were missing. Sitting the paper on your desk you watched as Elvis picked up the paper scanning it before sitting it down on your desk with a smirk. “You’re missin’ half of them.” You bit your lip, feeling both embarrassed and frustrated. "I know. I'll work on them," you promised, grabbing the paper and shoving it back in your bag. Elvis gave you a long look before he stood up, "Alright then," he said, his voice still low and smooth. "I spose’ there's nothing I can do. If you ain’t even got the notes I can’t help you." You watched as Mr. Presley stood up, feeling a sudden panic. "Wait!" you called out, suddenly realizing you needed his help. "Please...I cannot afford to fail this class." You bite your lip nervously, hoping he wouldn't just kick you out. He looked down at you for a moment, his gaze intense, before he spoke. "I ain't one for charity, Missy. But I can't just let you fail." He approached you, his shadow falling over you as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're gonna have to earn your spot, though." His breath sent shivers down your spine, and you gulped. "If you want to stay, you'll have to do whatever I say. And if you do well enough, you'll pass this class. How's that sound?" Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to Mr. Presley's proposal. You knew you had no choice but to accept. "Okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do whatever you say."

Elvis smirked, his eyes darkening. "Good girl," he said, patting you on the head like you were a well-behaved puppy. "Now, let's start with something easy." You watched as he walked over to his desk, motioning for you to follow. “Under the desk, sweetheart.” He instructed and you almost couldn’t believe your ears. “W-what?” You stammered and Elvis laughed. “Get under the desk.” He prefaced, hesitating as you walked over to behind his desk, he rolled his chair back a bit to give you room to get in place. God. Why couldn’t you have just paid attention? “Alright honey, now…I wantcha’ to undo my belt.” He said, looking down at you with a hint of amusement. Cursing silently you reached up to his belt, god. The bulge in his pants is extremely obvious. His tummy pooled gently over the belt, heaving as you worked to unbuckle it. “Atta’ girl.” He praised, and you looked up at him, embarrassed. “Take it out.” He ordered, and you felt your hand shake. Taking a deep breath you unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers ever so slightly. His cock sprung free, hard, and thick. You hesitated, glancing at it nervously. "Go on, touch it." Elvis urged, and you reached out, wrapping your fingers around his length. He groaned, eyes falling shut for a moment as you gripped him. "Go on," he whispered, and you began stroking, trying to ignore the way your heart was beating wildly. “Get closer, baby," he moaned, and you scooted forward, positioning your head beneath him. "Open up for me." Humiliation gripped you as you parted your lips, your cheeks flushed bright red. Elvis pushed your head forward, his cock pressing against your lips. You hesitated for a moment before taking him into your mouth, the taste of pre-cum making you shudder. You closed your eyes, taking more of him into your mouth, feeling him stretch you. You sucked, your lips gliding up and down his length, your hands gripping his thighs. Elvis groaned, his fingers digging into your scalp. He pushed you faster, your throat bobbing as you took him deeper than you'd thought possible. The taste of him filled your mouth, and you gagged, but you didn't pull away. You couldn't. You needed to do this. Elvis's breathing grew ragged, and he pulled your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Swallow it all down," he ordered. You felt him pulse and hot cum flooded your mouth. You swallowed, choking a little, then swallowed again, emptying him.

He pulled back, leaving you gasping for air. You collapsed back onto your knees, tears stinging your eyes. “That’ll bring your grade to a ‘C’” He gruffed, and you wiped your mouth. A ‘C’? That's it? “Mr. Presley…please...I need an A.” He begged and watched as his semi-hard cock twitched. “Then get outta the floor.” He demanded and quickly you crawled back up to your feet. “Good…I wanna see ya’ bent over the desk.” You quickly scurried around the desk, bending over it, your heart still racing. You could feel the heat in your cheeks as you waited for Elvis's next command. You watched him stand up and heard his footsteps behind you. “White pannies’...” You heard him say as he flipped your skirt over the top of your ass. “ An’ a little wet spot.” He humored making you cringe. Fuck, you really were soaked. You felt his ringed fingers cold against the warmth of your skin, shivering as he pulled down your panties, exposing your wetness to the cool air. “Sa’ pretty…" He growled, his hand cupping your mound. You bit your lip, unsure of what to expect as his finger brushed against your clit, sending shivers down your spine. He began to circle it, his other hand gripping your hip, holding you steady. You moaned softly, arching your back as you felt his finger push its way inside you. Slowly at first, then he began to move it in and out, stretching you. You gasped, your body responding to his touch. Soon, a second finger joined the first, and he began to finger you in earnest. You couldn't help but press back against him, wanting more. “She really wants that ‘A’, doesn't she?” He teased and you nodded. “Y-yes sir.” Elvis chuckled deeply, his fingers working in and out of you. "Then you'd better earn it, sweetheart." He growled, his fingers finding your sweet spot. You moaned loudly, your body trembling as pleasure coursed through you. “I’m gonna–” You whimpered before feeling his fingers pull out of you, making you groan and look back at him. “No, you ain’t babydoll. Not yet.” He warned as you felt the tip of his cock prod your entrance. Your heart pounded in your chest as Elvis began to push his cock inside you. You cried out, your body tensing as he filled you up. He went slow at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. "F-fuck! Please...Move.," you panted, your voice laced with need. He began to thrust, slowly at first, then picking up speed. You could feel his cock stretching you, filling you completely. Elvis gripped your hips driving into you, his thrusts growing more forceful. You cried out, your body responding to his, your pussy clenching around him. Sweat beaded on your brow as he drove into you, your ass slapping against the wooden desk. "C'mon, baby. Let go for me," he demanded, his voice low and rough. You couldn't hold back, your orgasm coursing through you, your pussy contracting around him as you came. Elvis followed soon after, his thrusts becoming sloppy, more desperate for friction, before filling you up completely. Pulling out, Elvis admired the cum pooling out of your cunt, pushing it in a bit with his fingers. He patted your ass, his breath heavy. "That'll get you an 'A', Missy." He promised, and you felt a smile tug at your lips. "Thank you, Mr. Presley." You whispered, relief washing over you. You lay against the desk, catching your breath, feeling satisfied, even if it was tainted by the shame of what you'd just done. You knew you'd have to do it again, but for now, you could rest easy. You'd earned that grade and were awfully satisfied with how.  “I think you should stay after class more often,” Elvis said, and you heard the rattling of his belt behind you. "We should do this more often." He mused and you laughed gently.

"Much, much more often"

again, i don’t rlly like how this one turned out :( my nerves are all to wack and ugh, i’ve had this one partially written for over a week but could nottt work on it but i finally finished it, i hope y’all like it more than i do <3

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @wildhorseinkansas @elvisiana @spookyeagleflower @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 @elvisalltheway101 @cherrycolaride @sloppyzengarden @faeolwen @slayingjd

if you wanna be added or removed lmk!

[sloppiest-of-jos]

დ︎ “little sister.” — elvis x fem! reader დ︎

note: based on ‘little sister’ by elvis (obvi) + requested / warnings: MDNI, non-specific age gap (elvis is 26 but idk abt the reader lol),  innocence kink, purity kink, cheating (kinda), p in v sex, fingering, no protection, car sex, panty stealing elvis cause’ i'm self indulgent. / summary:  elvis is dating your big sister, but after he sees you much you’ve grown– he can’t help himself.

Elvis couldn’t believe what he saw. A grown girl in place of the little doll he knew before. Upon walking into your house for dinner, he didn’t even realize it was you till you took your place at the table. His breath was caught in his throat, he couldn't even focus on what your sister was saying– every other word, in and out. Like nothing. Sure, he thought your sister was pretty, and it was true he loved her, but something was different. Something about you just..stirred something in him. Elvis' heart raced as he took in the sight of you. You still wore your hair in pigtails. Smirking to himself he nodded mindlessly as your father started talking about his work, he watched as you took small bites of your food, your head was downcast, your pretty lil’ eyes, god. He wanted to see them so bad. ‘Just raise your head, yittle un.’ He thought letting out a breathy groan. 

“You alright, El?” Your sister said, his mind went blank. Snapping back to reality he looked around the table, seeing that you had finally raised your head up, confusion etched on your soft features. “Ah, yeah m’ alright. Just tired, the Colonel’s got me workin' like a dog.” Elvis joked, and your father laughed. “I’ve heard that, seems like everyday you’re in the papers.” Elvis felt his heart flutter as he made eye contact with you, trying to act casual, but his nervousness was palpable. You didn't seem to notice the tension between the two of you. Your sister, however, did. She could tell something was off, she could tell from the moment ya’ll sat down for dinner. “Can I go to the movies with sis?” You asked your father, and Elvis swallowed hard. Your voice was as sweet as sugar and as smooth as silk, that pretty innocence lingering in your voice. “Course’ honey. If that's alright with them of course–”  Your father looked over at Elvis who nodded in compliance quickly, making your sister scoff. “What? C’mon- I don’t want her to go.” Your sister complained and Elvis looked over at her, his tone gentle. “Oh c’mon honey, let er’ go…she won’t bother us.” Elvis cood, taking his hand and placing it over hers in desperation.  Elvis could tell your sister was annoyed. The way she shot glances at you showed that. Jealous of her younger sister…and rightfully so. A different beauty entirely, perhaps it was the innocence that radiated off of you, your full lips, those sun kissed freckles from bein’ outside, those long eyelashes, and the softness of your skin…things your sister had all but lost. Lost from runnin’ around. It was no secret to anytone that your sister liked to get around, Elvis had known for weeks what she had been doing but he never bothered with it. Too busy. But now you were here, you were somethin’ new and he wanted you. 

Your sister rolled her eyes and pulled her hand out from under his, pulling her hand out from under his she crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine, you can come. But don’t bother us!”  She gave a small huff before turning her attention back to the last little bit of food on her plate. As you all finished eating, your father took Elvis into the living room, showing him the new guns he had bought while your sister started tidying up. In the bathroom, you stood in front of the mirror brushing your hair when your sister came in. “Elvis was jus’ being nice,” She said, smiling cruelly. “But then again, he won’t pay you no mind anyways.” She chuckled and walked to the living room, sitting down on the couch. Scoffing you fixed your hair back-up in your pigtails and smiled in the mirror, feeling pretty. Maybe your sister was right, maybe he was just being nice. But that was beside the point. You still liked him. As you walked into the living room, Elvis drank in the sight of you, smiling as he spoke. “You girls ready?” You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips as you walked over to Elvis. "Ready when you are, Elvis." Your sister rolled her eyes, but you ignored her. "Alright, let's go then." Your sister stood up, and grabbed Elvis hand, leading him out the door. 

The theater was packed, you recognized a few people you knew and some of your sister's friends who she chatted with before the three of you went to take a seat. Elvis took a seat in the middle, between you and your sister. The lights dimmed, and the movie began. Your sister chatted with Elvis throughout the movie, making jokes and laughing. You watched the movie, enjoying it but also feeling a bit left out. You wanted to talk to Elvis, to get to know him better, but you felt intimidated by your sister's presence. Halfway through the movie, Elvis leaned over to you, his arm brushing against yours. "This is a great movie, isn't it?" He whispered. You smiled, feeling your heart race. "It's amazing." You whispered back. He gave you a small smile before turning his attention back to your sister, who had been jerking on his arm so he could look back at her.  During the intermission, Elvis stood up, stretching his legs. "Want anything from the concession stand?" He asked, looking at both of you. Your sister shook her head, but you nodded, biting your lip. "Um, could I get a coke and some popcorn, please?" Elvis smiled, nodding. "Sure, be right back." He winked before making his way out of the theater room.

Walking to the concession stand Elvis could feel how shaky his legs were, how fast his heart was racing, and how disappointed he was that your sister was hogging him. He should’ve just ended stuff with her a long time ago, but she stayed. In a way, he was glad. He wouldn't have been able to see you as much as he did, let alone spend any time with you. Ordering his two cokes and a large popcorn he started to head back to the theater room before hearing a familiar giggle. Your sister. Peeking around the corner he saw your sister and some fella, he had her in a corner, his arm raised above her head as he leaned close to her. Elvis watched as they kissed, a short sweet one before he took her hand and the two snuck out the backdoor. Elvis was mad, in short. She had run off with another man mid-date, shaking his head and taking a deep breath as he walked back into the theater room, finding you sitting alone. “Elvis- uhm she said that she felt sick n’ had one of her friends take her home…I-I told her that she could wait on you n’ you could take us home but she didn’t listen to me!” You explained and Elvis laughed gently, “Don’t worry bout’ it little. I saw her, she done run off.” He said, handing you one of the cokes. “Oh…m’ sorry…” You whispered, seeing genuine hurt in his features. “Ain’t your fault, she's been doin’ that for a good while.” Elvis said softly, looking over at you. “You wanna just head ta’ the car?” Elvis proposed and you nodded. Standing up and walking out of the row of seats Elvis took your hand in his, leading you out.

Truthfully, Elvis was curious. Curious about what he could do with you. The idea of revenge came to mind, get back at your sister for sleeping around. But that would be wrong. It wouldn’t be right, he didn’t want to use you like that. But god. He wanted you. Opening the passenger car door Elvis let you get in before moving around to the side of the car, hesitating before opening the door. He could try. That’s all he could do. “We can just hang out here for awhile, if you’re wantin’ too.” Elvis said, turning to look at you. You looked so pretty, in that white dress n’ those frilly socks…bows in your hair too. “That's fine with me,” You said, crossing your legs in your seat. Elvis swallowed hard, a majority of your thigh exposed. He could see just a sliver of your panties but that was enough for his pants to get uncomfortable. He hated how you made him. All desperate, worked up, needing you so bad but it was just so wrong. “We’ve never been alone together before.” You said, looking over at him, scanning his face- trying to figure out what his expression was. “I guess that’s true, little.” As you both sat in the car, Elvis tried to keep his cool. He was so close to you, so close that he could smell the sweet scent of your perfume. It was intoxicating, and it made him want you even more. He knew that he shouldn't be thinking like this, that he should be focusing on getting you home safely, but he couldn't help it. He was drawn to you, and he wanted you more than anything. You, on the other hand, were feeling a bit nervous. You were so close to Elvis, and alone with him. No sister to stop you from talking to him or batting your eyes at him. “I’ve never been alone with a boy before.” You blurted out, your face flushing a deep shade of red from embarrassment. “Oh, well that’s alright…” Elvis replied, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You look purty.” He finally said, waiting for your reaction. Elvis' words made your heart flutter. "You- You think so?" You said shyly, looking down at your lap. Elvis chuckled, "Aww don't be like that little, you're very beautiful." He said, putting his hand on your thigh. You felt a jolt of electricity as his hand touched you. "You’re…you’re really handsome." You said, a blush spreading across your face. The two of you seemed to stare forever at each other, you hadn’t noticed that the two of you had gotten closer to each other, your noses almost brushing together. “Uhm, Elvis..? Can I- Can I kiss you?” You asked, your heart pounding against your chest. Elvis was taken aback but didn’t hesitate, his hand cupped your cheek as he pushed you closer to him, your lips meeting in a slow, soft kiss. You were shaking, so was Elvis. And neither of you knew why. The bulge in Elvis’ pants became more evident, the fabric of his jeans rubbing him uncomfortably tight, he cursed god as he pulled away from you. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks pink. “How was that..?” Elvis asked, his hand still resting on your thigh, drawing circles on your soft skin. “Nice..” You muttered, biting your lip. “I’ve never done that before.” You confessed, and Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you’re a natural.” He said, kissing your forehead. The two of you sat in silence, the two of you heard the faint sound of the movie theater in the distance, the music from the film playing. Elvis looked down at you, his eyes soft and gentle. He couldn’t help but feel that this was wrong, but the way you looked at him, the way you kissed him…it was hard to resist. “Do..do you wanna go to the backseat?” He asked, his breath caught in his throat. Hesitating slightly you nodded, and the two of you moved to the backseat.

“ Hi…” You whispered and Elvis laughed gently, “Hi there, little.” You were so innocent, so pure, and he wanted to keep you that way. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe from the world. “You’re different from most girls.” He whispered, his hand finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked, and you nodded, you could feel yourself shaking. “You sure? We ain’t gotta do nothin’ if you don’t wanna.”  He prefaced and you took a deep breath. “Elvis please..jus’ kiss me again.” Elvis didn’t hesitate, pulling you closer he kissed your jawline. You let out a small moan, your body responding to his touch, wanting more. Elvis could feel your heart racing, and he knew that you were as affected by him as he was by you. He pulled back, looking into your eyes. “This is so wrong.” He whispered, his hand moving to your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” You smiled, a small and innocent smile. “I want this, Elvis.” You said softly, your hand moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m grown.” Elvis looked at you, his heart aching for you. He wanted to take you home, to keep you safe, but he was also drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He couldn’t resist you, you were too pure, too sweet, and he wanted to savor every moment with you. “Alright, little.” He said, kissing you again, this time more passionately. His hand moved from your hair to your back, pulling you closer, feeling the curve of your body against his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling your heart race as his tongue danced with yours. His hand snaked up to your chest, gently groping your breast with his hand causing you to squeal into the kiss and Elvis pulled away, “Fuck, was that too far?” Elvis cursed, his heart dropping. “No, do- keep doing it.” You begged, taking ahold of his hand and placing it back on your breast. Elvis let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe how far things had gone, but he couldn't deny the desire that was burning between the two of them. He started kissing you again, his hand massaging your breast, kneading it between his fingers, his other hand slowly moving under your dress. You let out a soft moan, your body arching into his touch. Elvis' hand started to explore your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, moving lower to your panties. He could feel your heat through the fabric, and he knew he was getting dangerously close. You bit your lip, your breath hitching as tugged on the edge of your underwear, hooking his fingers underneath and pulling slightly. 

Elvis looked up at you, searching for consent– when you nodded he Elvis pulled them down your legs, taking them off and holding them in his hand for a moment before stuffing them in his pocket. You couldn't help but laugh when he did so– “A keepsake.” He joked before leaning over you and hiking up your dress. Elvis' heart raced as he exposed your delicate, untouched skin. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't resist the temptation. Your eyes were closed, your body trembling with anticipation. Elvis' finger traced the outline of your folds, feeling the wetness that coated them. He bit his lip, his breathing heavy as he slowly inserted one finger inside of you. You gasped, your eyes shooting open as you looked at him, a mix of surprise and pleasure evident on your face. “Can hardly fit my finger…” Elvis noted, moving his finger in and out of you, feeling your walls tighten around his digit. You arched your back, your moans growing louder as he continued to pleasure you. He added another finger, the two of them working in perfect harmony. Your breathing grew heavier, your body trembling under his touch. Elvis could feel your impending climax and he sped up his movements, wanting to push you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, your body convulsing as you came. Elvis watched you, a sense of pride and satisfaction washing over him. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you,the wetness coating them a testament to your pleasure.”God…” He said, admiring his fingers before placing them on his tongue. You looked at him, your eyes hazy. "Elvis..." you whispered, your voice soft and quiet. He leaned in to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue as his hand moved to the front of his pants. He was hard, throbbing for you, and he couldn't wait any longer. Elvis unzipped his pants, pulling out his erection. You looked at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. “Spread your legs, little.” He coached, as you parted your shaky legs wider. He positioned himself at your entrance, and with a gentle push, he entered you. You let out a small yelp, the sensation of being filled by him unlike anything you'd ever experienced. A short, sharp pain causing you to slam your eyes shut, “Ah! E-Elvis…it hurts.” You whined, feeling his continue to ease into. Taking your hand he held it close in his hand, “I know, little..squeeze ma’ hand.” He says, groaning as he struggles to fit into you. You’re so tight, unbelievably warm and so, so wet. Elvis moved slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Slinging your arms around his neck, Elvis gently let go of your hand and gripped onto your hips as you sunk deeper onto him. “So fuckin’ tight.” He groans as he begins to move you up and down onto him, each thrust drawing a soft whimper from you. Elvis' heart thudded against his chest, his eyes locked on you as he watched your reaction to him. He could see the pain, but also the pleasure that you were experiencing, and it was enough to make him want to take you over and over. He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he felt his own pleasure building. You cried out, your body responding to his movements, your walls tightening around him.

"Elvis..." you moaned, your voice catching in your throat. He leaned down, kissing your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Cum for me, little." He commanded, his voice low and gruff. You could feel your orgasm building, the sensation overwhelming you. "Elvis...I...I'm gonna cum..." you gasped, your body trembling. That was all the encouragement he needed. Elvis increased his pace, thrusting into you as hard as he could, his own climax approaching. "Fuck, little..." he groaned, “I’m gonna fill ya’ up. Make you feel all full…You want that?” He said, his eyes locking onto you. Watching you nod frantically, wanting nothing more. Elvis’ thrusts became more frantic as you rested your head against his neck as his fingers dug into your hips. You let out a shaky gasp,  feeling the warmth of his release as he filled you. He moaned out, pulling you close to his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Elvis pulled out of you, his spent cock leaving you feeling empty. 

Still holding you to his chest, he stroked your hair as you shook in his arms, his cum dribbling out of your swollen cunt. As you caught your breath, you clung to Elvis, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. He kissed the top of your head, his hand moving to your hip as he looked at you with a satisfied smile. "You’re so perfect little." He whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. Whimpering in response Elvis smiles at you, adjusting himself before pulling your dress back down in place. “Will you be mine baby?” He asks, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Mhm…” You smile gently, and he tilts his head curiously before yanking gently on your pigtails. “You gonna be mine forever just…” Elvis starts looking out the window of the car which had humorously fogged a bit. 

“don’t you do what your big sister’s done.” 

i tried alternating perspectives, give more on what elvis’ is thinking— so i hope it makes sense :3 this was really fun to write tbh, i listened to the song like 7 times while writing 😭 hope y’all enjoy!

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @wildhorseinkansas @elvisiana @spookyeagleflower @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 @elvisalltheway101 @cherrycolaride @sloppyzengarden @faeolwen @slayingjd

if you wanna be added or removed lmk!

[sloppiest-of-jos]

Heartbreak Hotel

A/N: Whaaaaaaat a smutless one-shot? Never have I ever lol. No, but really. This idea came to me and @ccab and I couldn't not write it. This is Elvis during the filming of King Creole and a very shy reader.

Warnings: kissing, an erection, some sexy thoughts, and a foot rub

Word count: ~2.7k

"Y-you want me to do what?" You hold your clipboard to your chest and shake your head nervously. Surely your boss isn't asking you to do what you think he is. You're not even sure how you ended up working on the set of King Creole anyway. Your father must've had something to do with it.

"Go to the hotel and bring Elvis back to the set. I know we told him we were done for the day but we really need him to try on his wardrobe for tomorrow and the costume people just finished it." You understand the logic behind the request. That's not the part that confuses you.

"But why m-me, sir?" You anxiously chew on your bottom lip. It's been hard enough for you to work here with Elvis wandering around. Walking up to him directly is about the last thing you want to do. It's not that you don't like him. Quite the opposite, in fact. You love him. But you've always been a little mousy and shy and unsure of yourself. The idea of talking to him makes you want to crawl into a hole.

"You're young and cute. This assignment is going to really piss him off. We figured you might soften the blow. He can't very well yell at you." You blink several times and your eyes go even wider. The fact that it won't just be Elvis, it'll be angry Elvis, really makes your heart race like a rabbit's.

"W-what if he won't come?"

"Not an option. Convince him. Now, just go." You consider quitting your job right then, but you know that's not realistic. Sighing deeply, you turn to walk from the small office.

"Y/n!"

"Yeah?"

"Clipboard."

"Oh... yeah..." You hand him the clipboard and cross your arms tightly on your chest.

"Y/n. Please try not to look like you're about to cry." You nod your head and try to rearrange your face, but you are about to cry.

******

Somehow, the next thing you know, you're in the lobby of one of the nicest hotels in New Orleans.

"Can you please call Mr. Presley down here? I-I-I need to speak to him." The receptionist nods and calls up to his room. You don't hear the conversation, too distracted by looking around at the fancy decor.

"Alright. I'll let her know." You turn back to the receptionist. "He says you can come on up. He's in the penthouse. Just push the button with the "p" on the elevator."

You stand there with your mouth hanging open and she turns away to do some other task.

No. He was supposed to come down, not you come up. You look at the elevators and swallow deeply. Then, you walk over and push the button.

Once you're on the elevator, it dawns on you that you're going to be walking into what is essentially his home. That thought hits you like a freight train and you feel like you're going to throw up or pass out or both. Just when you decide you're not getting out of the elevator, the doors slide open and there's a quiet ding. The room is carpeted and you see him sitting on a couch.

"Hey, honey, come on in." He hollers without moving. You feel like you're about to die, but you inch your way into the room anyway and the doors close behind you. He leans forward a little and gestures for you to walk towards him. "C'mon then, I won't bite."

You take a few steps into the room and then try to speak. All that comes out is a quiet squeak, though and you shake your head, frustrated with your own incompetence. He can tell you're struggling, so he stands up and walks towards you. That does not help. He's even taller, more attractive, and more intense up close than far away.

"What is it, honey? They send you to fire me or somethin'?" You look up at him and squeak again. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and strokes your cheek gently. "You're a shy little thing, ain'tcha?"

"They want you back on set." You breathe a sigh of relief that you were finally able to talk.

"Back on set? No, I'm home for the night." You blink a few times, not really sure how to respond as he shakes his head.

"Please..." It comes out of you as a whispered plea and you want to scream at how pathetic you sound. He smiles softly.

"Okay. But only because you're too damn sweet to say no to." He squeezes the top of your arm and then encourages you toward the elevator with his hand on the small of your back. You really hope he can't feel how sweaty you are as he touches you.

You get back on the elevator and he pushes the button for the lobby. The elevator begins its descent and you stand next to each other in silence. A breath of relaxation washes over you. It's almost over.

Then it happens.

Somewhere between floors 5 and 6 the elevator screeches to a grinding halt. It knocks you off balance enough for him to have to catch you in his arms, your hands on his chest to steady yourself.

"Woah, honey, you okay?" You look up at him frozen in fear. He holds you for a few seconds too long and then stands you back up. His hands stay on your upper arms and you swear it's like he doesn't want to stop touching you.

And he doesn't. He rather enjoyed the feeling of you pressed up against him, your eyes wide and seeking reassurance. But he can't just move in and kiss you like he normally does with other girls. You might actually pass out. So instead, he leans his back against the wall of the small elevator and tries to smile at you in the sweetest way possible.

"Do I make you nervous, honey?" You look over at the elevator buttons like pressing one might get you out of this nightmare, but probably not. "Nobody else here. You're gonna have to talk to me."

You reluctantly look up at him and try to breathe steadily. You're finally able to whisper a response.

"Yes." His face breaks into an amused smile.

"Why?"

"Have you met you?!" It comes rushing out of you before you can stop it.

"I'm not sure how to answer that, sweetheart."

"I mean... I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologize. I'm just not sure I know what you mean is all." For some reason, it's getting a little easier for you to talk to him.

"You're ridiculously famous. You have a presence. And you're unbelievably attr-" You stop yourself and look at the floor, blushing. He steps forward off the wall and tips your chin up, so that you have to look into his face.

"Unbelievably what?" Part of you wants to slap the cocky smirk right off his face, but you'd die before you did that. Finally, you squeak it out.

"Attractive." He steps forward again almost closing the gap between your bodies.

"You know, you're not so bad yourself."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I'm serious, honey. I'd letcha eat crackers in my bed." Without thinking about it, you burst into a fit of giggles. "It wasn't that funny..."

"I'm sorry; it's just the image of me sitting in your bed eating crackers. Like that's what I'd be doing if I was in your bed." He runs his finger down the side of your face and moves just the smallest bit closer to you.

"What else would you be doing in my bed?" All of a sudden, you're not laughing anymore. Now you're thinking of all the things you might be doing and it makes you blush an even deeper red than you have before. Your heart is going so fast it feels like it might leap out of your chest. He senses your anxiety and backs up a little. "You don't have to answer that, honey. I'm sorry."

He's not used to how delicate you are. It's endearing. Like you need him to take care of you. It's a job that sounds better and better the longer he's on this elevator with you.

You nod and stay quiet, but you kind of miss how close he was to you. His presence, albeit intimidating at first, is comforting.

He turns and slides down the back wall to sit on the floor of the elevator. Then, he pats the floor beside himself. You decide there's not much else to do and he actually seems pretty harmless, so you sit down next to him on the floor and lean back against the wall. It feels good to sit down. You wore new shoes to work today and your feet have been killing you for hours. A small whimper falls from your lips as you try to stretch your feet a bit. You're dying to take the heels off, but you don't want to freak him out.

"What's wrong, honey?" He hears you whimper and his eyebrows come together with concern.

"Oh, nothing. My feet just hurt from these new shoes."

"Take 'em off."

"Really? You don't mind?" He chuckles a little.

"Not at all. There's no tellin' how long we might be stuck in here. Get comfortable." Normally, you'd never do such a thing but your feet do hurt really badly and he's right. You're trapped. You reach down and slowly pull the shoes off of your feet, wincing in pain. Your hose make it look like you have webbed feet, but you really don't care as you gingerly wiggle your toes. He watches you, dying to kiss you. You might be the cutest thing he's ever seen and your feet are so small and pretty.

"Do they hurt bad?"

"Yeah. I shouldn't have worn these today." You tap the shoes together in your hands. "I suppose beauty is pain, though."

He laughs and then an idea settles on him. He's not sure how you'll respond, but it's worth a try.

"You want me to rub 'em?" You look up at him suddenly for three reasons. First, you can't believe he said it. Second, it sounds amazing. And third, there's a hint of something in his voice that almost sounds like uncertainty.

"I couldn't let you do that."

"Why not? I really don't mind and what else are we doin' right now?" The vulnerability on his face melts you and you know you can't say no. You smile bashfully and turn to lean against the other wall and put your feet in his lap.

"Well, alright then. Thank you." He smiles a very natural and relaxed smile and then goes to work massaging one of your feet. You'd be lying if you said it didn't feel amazing. His hands are strong and he seems to know what he's doing. You moan a little louder than you intend to, but your feet were so sore that the relief is almost overwhelming. He looks at you when you moan and bites his bottom lip, thanking God that your eyes are closed as his gaze travels down over your figure. If you weren't so shy, he'd probably already have you half undressed. But he kind of likes that you're shy. It's cute and he can't complain about the added challenge. It's almost getting too easy to get girls to say yes.

You spend the next twenty minutes or so like this. He switches feet halfway through, but you sit in silence, moaning and whimpering every once in a while. What you don't know is that you're driving him absolutely crazy with the sounds you're making. If you're this vocal with a foot massage, how might you be in bed? The thought sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine and he shifts to keep your feet away from his erection. Surprisingly, you're the one who breaks the silence. You look up at him and he's looking down at your feet while he works. You can see his eyelashes and for some reason that makes him seem more real.

"What's it like? Being famous?" He takes a deep breath before he answers, not looking up from your feet, like he's trying to decide how honest he should be. He looks up into your eyes intensely.

"Lonesome. I was trying to think of a nicer word, but that's all that comes to mind. Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful for everything that's happened. I wouldn't change any of it. But it's really very lonely, not knowing who loves you for you and who loves you for who they think you are."

By the end of it, his voice is thick with emotion and you don't think, you just act. You move back to sitting next to him and entwine your arm with his, taking his left hand in both of yours. He looks down at you as you settle your head onto his shoulder. Something inside him flip-flops and he doesn't feel so alone all of a sudden. He presses his lips to the top of your head gently.

You feel him kiss your hair and are overwhelmed with the need for him to kiss you more. He seems to sense this and tips your chin with his other hand, so that you're looking up into his face. There's only a few inches between his lips and yours and you notice his eyes flicking down as he leans in slowly.

"Can I...?" He asks quietly practically against your lips. This time your whisper is appropriate.

"Yes." He doesn't wait another second to dive into a kiss. It's sweet at first, but before too long, you part your lips and his tongue slides into your mouth. He holds the side of your face and you both sit up and turn towards each other as the kiss deepens. His hand drifts down to your hip and he squeezes it, pulling you towards him gently. You start to lift your leg to climb on top and straddle him, but just as you do, there's a soft ding and the elevator doors slide open.

You gasp and scramble back, wiping your mouth and shoving your shoes back on your feet. He looks at you dumbstruck with how quickly you shifted gears. He's still in the mindset that you're about to crawl in his lap.

"Honey, wait?" He rushes to his feet and tries to smooth his clothing. There's nothing he can do about his massive hard-on, though, so he turns and shoves it up under his belt. He feels you touch him near his hip, but he's too focused on what he's doing to acknowledge it.

By the time the doors open all the way, you're both mostly presentable. He's ushered out of the elevator by a group of his friends and family, led by his manager. You watch as they fuss over him and he makes eye contact with you through the crowd.

He'd give almost anything to be back in that elevator with you to finish what he started. But more than that, he already misses the feeling of companionship. The heavy weight of loneliness is starting to settle in his chest again. He looks down and back up and you're gone.

******

You wipe the tears from your face as you make your way back to your car outside the hotel. If only the doors hadn't opened. What might've happened? Oh well. You'll never know. It's up to him now.

******

Elvis manages to keep it together long enough to assure everyone he's fine, do the wardrobe check, and get back to his hotel. He stands in front of the elevator when it opens and seriously considers taking the stairs to the penthouse. But he doesn't. Instead he steps onto the elevator and slides his hands in his pockets as the doors close.

He gasps softly.

Out of his pocket he pulls a small silver bracelet. It's not his. It must be yours. You must've slipped it into his pocket while you put yourselves back together when the doors opened. He turns over the little silver pendant and finds your first and last name in script.

He smiles widely and kisses the bracelet. Looking up, he whispers.

"Thank you."

He's not sure if he's talking to you or God. Maybe both. Either way, now he can find you. He steps off the elevator and heads into his bedroom.

The pieces of his heart start to come back together and he sets your bracelet on his nightstand.

Tomorrow. He'll find you tomorrow.

******

The End?

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

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

[sloppiest-of-jos]

Forbidden Love pt. 3💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. [Fem!reader]

TW: Cussing, TENSION, ANGST, kissing, fingering, oral

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Hello everyone! Cannot wait to have you all read this next part🤭 This is a very important day for Elvis in his career! July 17,1969 is when From Elvis in Memphis was released! It’s an important part of the story and you’ll find out later why this album is so important to Elvis too! Enjoy!

•

You could not let go of how Elvis was treating you. It was so immature and childish. You couldn’t get over how he made you feel when he got so close. It was suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. He shouldn’t have done any of that though.

You decide to sit back down on the couch and wait for John. You’d rather be at home right now and get away from Elvis before he did anything else reckless. The house was very quiet and could only hear the guys talk outside. There was a bookshelf in the living room that had dozens of books. Some were classics that you had read a million times and some were spiritual and philosophical. Those really caught your eye. You didn’t know Elvis was interested in those things.

You pick one off the shelf and start sifting through it. The way it talked about life and the meaning of it was something you had never thought about. It was beautiful and could see why Elvis might like to read something like this.

The sound of clicking heels coming down the hallway turns your attention to see who is coming. It didn’t sound like Elvis walking in. These sounded like stiletto heels. A girl wearing a yellow dress passes the living room and does a double take when she walks by, not expecting you sitting there. She looks like the girl in the photo with Elvis you saw earlier. She stops dead in her tracks and has a confused look on her face.

“Who are you?” She says sharply.

You place the book down on the coffee table and stand up.

“Hi I uh-, I’m y/n. You must be Dianne?” You ask politely.

“Yeah, I am. You still haven’t answered my question though, who are you?” She snaps.

You stare at her dumbfounded. She was so rude. Is this how she interacts with all of Elvis’ guests?

“I’m a friend of Elvis. My husband is going to start working for him,” you tell her flatly, not putting up with her crass attitude.

She takes a few steps into the living room to get a closer look at you.

“Hmm. Elvis has never mentioned you,” she says, her voice snobby and pretentious.

Your jaw clenches at her rude comments. You’re doing everything in your power to not blow up on her too.

“I’ll get out of your way then. It seems you were not prepared for company,” you say walking past her annoyed.

You make your way to the front door and don’t get the chance to open the door yourself as someone comes barreling in quickly. It was Elvis opening the door and coming in, inches away from face again. You stand there paralyzed, not expecting to be so close to him. He has a spry smile on his face like he is all too pleased to be this close to you again.

You quickly step back, making room for him to come in. You realize John is also behind him looking confused at the situation. Elvis’ smile slowly fades when he sees Dianne right behind you.

“Hi darling,” she says chippy and quickly moves past you to hug him. She makes it look like such a show when she embraces him. She wraps her arms around his neck and runs her hands in his hair. You wanted to roll your eyes, it was pathetic she was trying this hard. You didn’t care who Elvis was with. What has become abundantly clear, he didn’t care about you either and you had to deal with that fact later.

You look back at John and try to smile at him.

“How did it go?” You ask him.

“It went fine. Elvis wants me to work security for him,” he explains. You’re a little shocked that’s the job he gave him. John has no security background and doesn’t even know how to use a gun. You also didn’t know Elvis needed that much security nowadays. You couldn’t help but worry a bit for John’s safety doing this… as well as Elvis’…

“Oh wow… I wasn’t expecting that. Are you okay with doing that?” You ask gently.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll just need some lessons and I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it all,” he tries to assure you.

“Honey, you didn’t tell me we were having company,” Dianne says behind you, a slight agitation in her voice.

“Yeah, I must have forgotten. But these are old friends, they don’t need to be fussed over. They can come by any time,” Elvis says with a smile walking back over to John. He puts his arm around him and pats his chest in a friendly way.

You almost believe this act he’s putting on. He learned a thing or two from being in Hollywood that’s for sure. The way his voice lit up and how his whole demeanor was relaxed and calm. John couldn’t be happier to have his friend treat him like this. You hadn’t seen such a big smile on his face in a long time. You look back at Elvis and your eyes lock onto each other’s. He knew you could see past the act and the smile he was faking right now.

“Why don’t we all have dinner together here Friday night? It would be so nice to get to know you both. Elvis never talks about his friends with me,” Dianne says. 
You watch as the rehearsed smile on Elvis’ face slowly turns into a scowl. Oh, that look was a dangerous one. He couldn’t hide any longer how uncomfortable he was in this situation.

“Why don’t we talk this over later dear,” Elvis says flatly, letting go of John.

“No, I want to have dinner with them, What is there to talk about?” She snaps back. You watch as Elvis gives her a cold stare. He lets out a slow, deep breath as he stands there searching for the right thing to say.

A smirk forms on your lips when the most devious thoughts pop into your head.

Throw more fuel on the fire that is Elvis Presley.

“Oh no, that sounds like a wonderful idea! I can make a dessert! I make an amazing cherry pie! Elvis, you would love it! If I remember correctly you love cherries right?” You say excitedly. You quickly turn back to John, “Wouldn’t that be nice John? We can catch up like it’s old times! Besides, I haven’t seen you since your goodbye party Elvis. I would love to know what you’ve been up to in these eleven years,” you quip.

Elvis’ jaw clenches as he now turns how scowl to you. You look straight into his fiery eyes and have no fear in your body. He had to know how pissed you were for doing this to you. Dianne’s face was a bit shocked at your admission.

“Oh, you both have known each other that long and kept in touch?” She asks warily.

“Well, he and John have stayed in touch. Whenever I would call, the phone seemed to magically disconnect and never take my calls,” you say, acting confused looking at Elvis. He knows what you’re doing and he is doing everything in his power not to snap at you.

“I think I should be going,” you say looking at your watch, “I have work soon and need to get ready. What time would you like us over Dianne? Six okay?” You ask sweetly.

She nods her head and smiles at you, “yes that would be perfect! We can’t wait,” she says looking back at Elvis and his unpleased expression aimed at you.

You force another fake smile at him and go to hug Dianne goodbye. You didn’t want to, but you knew it would irk Elvis more than anything. You stop in front of him and give him a pathetic hug. “Can’t wait for dinner,” you say flatly, matching his expression. He continues to stay quiet. You’ve never heard silence so loud before.

*

June 17, 1969

You worked the morning shift at the diner today and you couldn’t help but worry about this dinner tonight. As much as you were proud of yourself for getting under Elvis’ skin as he did to you, you couldn’t help but feel nervous again in his presence. You’re sure he knew your game and you were afraid of what he was going to say around Dianne and John. The last thing you needed was for him to expose what you two did at his goodbye party. You had never told a soul about what happened that night. And admitting it now, eleven years later to your husband and his girlfriend would be disastrous.

You surprisingly got off of work on time and quickly ran to the store to get the ingredients for the cherry pie. Baking was one of your favorite things to do when you had any free time. You loved to measure all the ingredients and mix them just enough to make something sweet and delicious. It took a while to cut everything up and roll out the dough but it was all a labor of love. You hoped Elvis would like it. You always remember he loved it when you brought it over for barbecues…

You let the pie cool on the counter and start to get ready. You were once again plagued with the worry of what to wear and how to look for this dinner. You sifted through your closet and tried to find something casual but you ended up going with a red swing dress. You focused on doing your hair and makeup next, taking your time with your winged eyeliner and curling the ends of your hair just right.

The creak of the door startled you and you quickly go to make sure it was John coming in. He looked tired and sweaty when he walked in, barely looking at you when you greeted him.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask.

“No, I’ve had a long day. I’m tired and just want to sit down,” he snaps.

“Oh, I didn’t know. What did you do today?” You’re doing your best to not roll your eyes at his attitude.

“We ran around doing errands that Elvis made us do and Jesus, that guy just ran us ragged. We drove all over LA in this sweltering heat and he was just in a shitty mood all day. I don’t know what his deal was,” he says frustrated.

“Well, I’m sorry. People can have rough days sometimes. Elvis is just a man,” you try to say gently. “Maybe he’ll be in a better mood at dinner.”

“I’m not going to dinner,” he spats.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want to. Plus Elvis didn’t even want to have this dinner! It was you and Dianne making a huge deal about it. Just call him and cancel,” he says as he walks away into the bedroom.

“What? No, I’m not canceling! We’re supposed to be there in half an hour! I’m sure the food is made already and everything. It's just rude to cancel so late,” you try to reason following behind him. He sifted through his drawers to get new clothes as he headed to the bathroom, completely ignoring you.

“John will you listen to me!” You say raising your voice.

He quickly turns around, “Then go by yourself if you’re so worried! I don’t care, just go, I don’t want to be there,” he snaps.

You didn’t say anything at first, his words were so cold and it hurt you more than you thought.

“Yeah I know you don’t care,” you mumble under your breath as you walk away.

Going back into the bedroom, you slip into some heels and grab the pie off the counter. You snag the car keys off the counter and angrily get in the car.

*

It wasn’t a far drive to Elvis’ house but your head was swarming with angry thoughts the whole time going up there. You felt like every man had an issue with you at this point. Elvis purposefully blocked you out of his life and John couldn’t stand to be with you in his spare time. It made you feel awful about yourself and had so many reservations about going to this dinner alone now. It wasn’t a great look for you. He had already supposedly told Elvis things weren’t going well for you two. This only made it look worse.

You pull up to the gates and someone opens them for you. You try to prepare yourself to put on an act for the whole night to get to know Dianne. It was going to be a long night you feared. You couldn’t give a damn about her. You wanted to get to the root of the problem between you and Elvis. If John was going to work for him, you were in Elvis’ life whether he liked it or not. You’d be around much more and you weren’t going to let him take jabs at you any chance he got.

You grab the pie from the passenger seat and head for the front door. You gently knock on the door and wait patiently. You can hear the turn of the lock and you prepare to put a big smile on your face for whoever is going to answer the door. Your smile drops when you see it’s Elvis who opens it. It was something so trivial, but you just never expected Elvis to open his own front door. He looked devilishly good once again. Damn it he was so distracting. He wore a blue silk button-up that was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest with a silver and turquoise belt. A gold chain hung from his neck and just drew more attention to his exposed chest. He looked good without even trying and those black pants were tailored to perfection.

Focus, you idiot.

“Hey,” you say sheepishly.

His face had the same shocked look as it did the other day when he saw you. You didn’t know what to make of it. He looks past you and peers his head to the side of the door.

“Where’s John?” He asks.

“Umm, he’s not coming. He wasn’t feeling well,” you try to explain. Elvis presses his lips together and opens the door for you to come in.

“Great,” he mumbles under his breath.

You hesitantly walk in, not liking his attitude already. You walk in through the foyer and turn to the dining room to set down the pie. The long marble table was set with napkins and silverware already and a tall candlestick centerpiece. There were four placemats set on the table, two on each side of the table facing each other. You set down the dish to the side since it won’t be served right away.

The house was stone quiet. It didn’t seem like there was anyone in here but you and Elvis. One of his housekeepers emerges from the kitchen and gives you a courtly smile.

“Can I get you something to drink dear?” She asks you.

“Just some water please,” you say politely.

She returns quickly with a glass of water for you and you turn back to Elvis, standing there with his arms crossed at his chest looking down at the ground.

You don’t exactly know what to do or where to sit. The whole room feels awkward with just the two of you in it. You decide to move to the living room and wait for Dianne to come downstairs. Elvis follows behind you shortly after. You look out the window and see the city below. The view was truly beautiful. There was a large pool in the backyard and lounge chairs along the edge of it. You could see why Elvis liked this house so much. It was perfect for entertaining. You could feel Elvis staring at you from behind. It ticked you off he doesn’t even try to have a conversation with you.

“Does Dianne know I’m here this time?” You ask him.

“Yeah well… she’s not here,” he tells you.

You turn around quickly, “What? Why? I thought she wanted this dinner,” you say confused.

“We got in a big fight this afternoon and is staying at her sister’s for a bit,” he says a bit uncomfortably.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that…” you say quietly. A heaviness fills the air and you both don’t know what else to say to each other.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says, breaking the silence.

“What? I didn’t know that you and Dianne got in a fight and John wasn’t feeling good before we left. It would have been rude to just cancel like that!” You try to reason. He shakes his head, not liking anything you just said.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” he grumbles.

The housekeeper pops her head into the living room and tells you both that dinner is ready on the table. You smile at her and head for the dining room. You probably should just leave, he doesn’t want you here, but you couldn’t give up on Elvis that quickly. Sure, people change over the years, but you didn’t buy that Elvis became so irreverent about everything.

You sit down and place your glass of water in front of your plate. It was a classic Southern meal with pot roast and mashed potatoes. It smelled delicious. Elvis sits down reluctantly across from you, sighing softly when he looks down at his plate. The house was all too quiet for your liking.

You spot a record player behind Elvis. One of your favorite memories at Graceland was always having music playing and everyone having a great time. You spot his new album sitting on the side of the speakers. It just came out today and was titled, From Elvis in Memphis. It had a picture of him from the ’68 special in front of the background dancers that mirrored his silhouette.

“Can we put on your new album?” You try to sound bubbly. You were genuinely curious to hear it. This was his first album since his big special. His whole career was heading in a new path because of it and the buzz around this new album was on everyone’s mind.

“Maybe later,” he says as he picks up the napkin and puts it on his lap.

It was disheartening to hear him not care about his new work.

“You were always so excited to share your new albums…”

“I know, I’m just not in the mood,” he says flatly.

“Is it because I’m here?” You ask bluntly.

His eyes shoot up to look at you and his silence speaks loud and clear.

At this point, it ticked you off this was the way he was treating you. You hadn’t had an actual conversation in a decade with him and he acted like you were the worst person he could interact with. The housekeeper checks in on you both to see if you need anything else.

“No, thank you. We’re fine. You can go home and rest, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says pleasantly.

She thanks him and leaves a few moments later.

Now you two were really alone and it made you uneasy. Neither of you has touched your plates and you try to scramble for where you want to start. You needed to hear what his problem was with you. Even if it ruined your relationship forever.

“What did I do wrong?” You say forcefully. He looks at you a little shocked at your tone.

“Nothing, you’ve done nothing wrong,” he says coldly.

“Bullshit,” you snap, his eyebrows furrowed by your outburst. “You took one look at me the other day and hated my very presence!”

“What did you want me to do? Did you want me to pretend like I was waiting for you to show up? Catch up like old times,” he hisses.

“No, but show me a little bit of decency! It wasn’t my fault that I haven’t heard from you for years! I did everything in my power to try and keep in touch with you. You chose not to reciprocate that, why?!” You press.

“I had nothing to say to you, did you think of that,” he spats.

It hurt, you thought you knew him so well but you don’t know where your friend went after the Army.

“I’m going to be around whether you like it or not. The least you can do is give me answers,” you tell him. He stares at you intensely, his eyes too dark for your liking.

“Fine,” he says.

You shift your food around on the plate, knowing your next question might open a can of worms.

“You regret it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him.

“Regret what?” He asks through his teeth.

“You regret having that night with me before you left,” You tell him.

“No I don’t-,” he tries to tell you but you cut him off.

“How can you say that?! It was one of the first things you brought up after not seeing me for eleven years! I can put two and two together,” you say disgustedly.

Elvis looks down at his plate again and shakes his head.

“I don’t regret it, but it haunts me every day,” he says low. You were taken aback at his confession. You were afraid to have him explain himself but you needed the truth.

“What does that even mean?” You ask hesitantly. He flashes his heated eyes back at you, making your heart race a million miles an hour.

“It means I think about it much too often and wish things were different,” he admits. Your blood boils at his words, you can’t hold back your anger.

“You wish things were different?! How do you think I have felt for the past decade! I miss my old friend! I miss someone that I can talk to any time I want and who could help me in any situation. I barely have a husband who can tolerate my presence! Now I have to add you to that list!” you seethe.

You can tell he’s taken aback by your words. He wasn’t expecting for such emotions out of you today. You get up from your seat, too much anger flowing through you to sit down any longer.

You don’t let him speak just yet, there was too much racing in your head to stop you.

“What we did, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You’re acting like we actually…” you stop yourself from saying it out loud. If you said it out loud you might hurt your own feelings. You don’t want to feel rejected again.

“We did enough, that’s all that matters. We didn’t know what we were doing,” he tries to say nonchalantly.

God, he was infuriating! Everything that was coming out of his mouth made you want to scream your head off at him. One more snobby remark and you were afraid you were going to do just that. You come to the front of the table to get closer to Elvis which was a dangerous move but you didn’t care.

“I wanted you, Elvis! There was not a doubt in my mind that you were the one I wanted in that moment. I had never felt like anyone like that before! Don’t you dare try to downplay my feelings,” you snap.

“We were both drinking and let it get to our heads!” he tries to reason.

“No! I was so sure! I wanted you. That was all I wanted for that night. I didn’t care you were leaving. It was so much more than that. My feelings would not have changed,” you seethe. He sits there holding the armrest tightly, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. You try to have patience for him, try to let him speak but he just sits there. He looks at you like no one has ever looked at you before.

Was it anger? Frustration? Lust?

Lord, it cannot be that last one.

“You know what, I’ll go. It’s clear that you’re not going to change,” you hiss at him.

You start to turn away and stop when you hear the screech of his chair moving back and the sound of shattering plates hitting the floor. You look at the mess on the floor and Elvis’ fierce gaze. He quickly grabs your wrist and stills you from going any further.

“What are you-,” you start to say.

He picks you up and sets you on the table, your heart racing uncontrollably as you look up at him.

“Enough.” He growls. You try to squirm but he holds you firmly on the table as he hunches down to get eye level with you.

“And you don’t think I wanted you? I never wanted someone so badly in my life. It terrified me. I couldn’t though. I couldn’t have my way with you. You had never been with a man and I wasn’t the right person to do that.” He admits looking away.

“I-, I didn’t care about that. I wanted you to have me,” you say low.

He straightens out his posture, taking in a deep breath before speaking.

“I know, I know you did. I could feel how much you needed me,” he sighs, brushing your hair off your shoulders. His fingers brush your skin and makes you have goosebumps all over. “What an idiot.” He murmurs.

All you can hear is the sound of you two breathing shallowly and quietly.

“And those sounds you made when you were on me… they play way too often in my head,” he says softly, leaning in your ear. Your hands grab onto his arms, unable to hide the way his words are affecting you. Images of that night flash in your head again. It felt like it was yesterday and you can see how his face made those beautiful expressions when you were moving on him. His hands slide down your arms and gently slide down your legs. Your body tenses and you take a sharp breath in. His hands feel so good on you and burn through the material of your dress.

Looking up into his eyes, you feel yourself melt. You remember this exact feeling eleven years ago… but things were very different now.

“Am I too late to have sucha night with you?” He coos. His entire presence was suffocating and intoxicating. Each breath you made was harder to take with him this close to you.

“Elvis,” you say in a breathy sigh.

You’re nine years too late, you think anxiously. That ring on your ring finger seared into your skin, making it abundantly clear you should not have found yourself in this situation. It also burned as a reminder of how unhappy you were. How it weighed you down in chasing your hopes and dreams for years now.

Damn it Elvis was wildfire. One look from him and he consumed all reasonable logic. You loved how it felt to have all of his attention on you. It was something you didn’t realize you craved. You craved a man’s attention and affection.

A smirk forms on his face after hearing his name come from your lips.

“Hmm… I’ve missed you saying my name like that,” he says pressing his forehead to yours. You feel yourself losing the battle with him. He’s pulled you in too far and you love it.

You can’t hold back anymore, you need him. There was no other voice in your head other than it screaming his name.

“Kiss me,” you whimper as you slide your hand on the back of his neck and through his hair. He puts his hand on your cheek and leans in.

Passion and fireworks explode in your head. His lips felt better than they did before. They were so soft and plush and had you craving more. You can’t catch your breath in between kisses as he continues to move his hands on you. The soft material of his shirt had you clawing at it, needing to feel his skin.

Small, soft moans come from your throat as you kiss him more. You never wanted him to stop. You were suddenly transported back to that night but this time it was somehow so much more intense. His hands move up your legs again and move your dress up with it. His fingers rub and tease the soft, sensitive flesh near your core. You felt like you were on fire from every touch of his. Your core began to throb and ache for more. You feel his hands spread your legs open wider, allowing him to step in between them and get closer.

You needed his hands to touch you more, to touch you in places you’ve only dreamed of since. You guide one of his hands lower and he understands exactly what you need.

He takes two fingers and rubs them up and down your folds. The friction felt so good and you instantly moaned in his mouth. It had been so long since you’ve felt any pleasure and this was on a whole other level. He responds with a moan too and slips his tongue in your mouth. You felt completely breathless as he teased and had you reeling for more. His fingers were gentle when they moved on you and knew where you needed the most attention. He puts more pressure when he rubs your clit, liking how your body bucks into his hand. Then he teases your entrance, rubbing and pushing his fingers slightly into you. You gasp as you feel the material of your panties get pushed inside of you.

“Oh God,” you moan.

His incessant teasing has you on the edge of dying. You knew you were embarrassingly wet from all of this and he was just making it worse. He kisses you again and groans while he does so. You feel his finger pull your panties to the side and let his other fingers slide through your sopping-wet folds. You have to break the kiss as you feel his curious fingers give you exactly what you need. You watch as his face also forms into pleasure the more he discovers you.

“Jesus baby,” he moans, his face looking shocked and turned on.

You hold onto him tighter, your eyes silently pleading for more from him. He nods his head at you, getting the message you need him. He gently pushes his slender finger inside of you, pumping it in and out of you slowly. You can’t help but throw your head back, it all feels too good as your core squeezes around him.

“Fuck honey, you’re so damn wet,” he groans. You can’t speak as so many different sensations are flooding your body.

You continue to hold onto him, too afraid this is all a dream and you’re going to wake up any minute now. But he keeps you focused on him and what he’s giving you. He enters another long finger inside you, making you moan his name. You weren’t expecting any of this. How he was making you feel euphoric with the smallest movements of his hands. You look back up into his eyes and he has that droopy, lust-filled look glassed over him. Just looking at him had you weak and breathless. You close your eyes as you feel the coil in your belly become tighter and tighter.

Your eyes pop back open as you feel him gently grab your ankle and push your leg up, having your foot rest on the table’s edge. He then starts to slowly sink down on his knees in front of you. You silently cuss under your breath watching him kneel before you and look at your weeping core.

He licks his lips slightly, pumping his fingers slowly into you again and making you squirm. He only does this for a few more moments before he gently takes his fingers out of you and looks up. You gasp when you feel him no longer inside you and feel your wetness come leaking out of you. You look down at him with your cheeks burning red. He doesn’t mind your blushing embarrassment, no, he’s enjoying this so much and wants you to feel good.

He leans in close and you feel his tongue swipe through your folds. You loudly moan, you have never felt anything so good. He teases and knows just what you want without you saying a word. Your hand tangles in his hair and encourage him to keep going. You felt yourself edging closer and closer to finishing and he knew it too. His hands squeezed around your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart for him.

His tongue teases your entrance and plunges it inside of you. You cry out for him, loving what he’s giving you. It all felt too good to be true. This wasn’t how you expected your evening to go. What started as raging hate for him turned into passionate lust that clouded over everything. He slithers his hand to your clit and starts to rub it as he continues to eat you.

You gasp for air and feel your entire body tense. You look down at him helplessly and watch how his eyes are closed and completely focused on you.

“Oh God Elvis, please,” you cry for him.

He doesn’t stop and knows he’s got you on the edge of falling apart. A few more movements from his tongue and your body shudders hard. Your core squeezes around him and you buck into him. You gasp for air and hold onto his hair tighter. Your vision grows blurry and you don’t even feel like you’re on this earth right now. You felt like you were in another world and it only consisted of you and Elvis there. He makes his own pleased groans as his tongue continues to go to work on you. You can’t help but cry out for him, telling him how good it feels.

You hadn’t felt this much pleasure in ages. It was new and enlightening. He gradually slows his pace down and moves up to tease your swollen bud. It was like a zap of electricity running through you as his mouth teased. He stops to look up at you, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. He slowly gets up, his tall stature looming over you and making you feel so small.

He stares at you with awe in his eyes. You felt the same. He leans in to kiss you, passion overflowing with his lips. Your head is spinning once again with how he’s kissing you and the way his hands hold onto you tightly.

You pull away to get air and see he’s just as breathless. Your thumb gently wipes his face to get it clean once again and he smiles. He then picks you up off the table and has you stand once again. Your legs shake slightly and you hold onto his arm tight.

He takes your hand in his and starts walking away from the dining room. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you the entire way. You stop him as he starts to lead you further into the house.

“Where are we going?” You ask a bit nervously.

He smirks at you and pulls you in for another kiss. You melt as you feel him pressed against you for the first time in a very long time.

“I wasn’t done making you feel good,” he says coyly. “Is that ok?”

You nod your head at him, knowing he has you in the palm of his hand now, liking it more than you thought possible.

•

•

•

Tagging: @loving-elvis @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis

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[sloppiest-of-jos]

hi girlie! love your work, please could you write about a reader that loves sex with ep but is still very innocent?

i hope you like it! thank you for requesting!

masterlist is here for more elvis fics takin' new elvis requests here

wc - 2.8k

warnings - SMUT, daddyk!nk, profanity, overstim, praisek!nk, innocencek!nk, all the usual stuff for me

Elvis was the one to expose you to a lot of your firsts. Your first kiss, your first time in Las Vegas, your first designer dress, your first sip of alcohol but most importantly, your first experience of sexual pleasure. 

Now, despite your innocence, even you knew that Elvis had been with many lovers and was well known for his abilities in the bedroom. Sure, it made you a little hesitant at first, a little scared that he would find someone more exciting and experienced than you and forget all about you. Actually, you were more than a little scared of that happening, you were terrified, you didn't even want to fall for Elvis because you never felt that you were worth the famous man's time or attention but oh Lord, you fell hard.

And you could tell straight away why so many people fell for him, when he looked at you, it felt like he was looking through to your soul and out the other side again. It was like you were the only person in the world to him in that moment.

But when Elvis introduced you to the world of pleasure and sex, you couldn't get enough. You were nervous during your first times, so, so nervous and Elvis could tell. But he went slowly with you, praising you and cooing at you as you took all of him, even if it stretched your walls and made a few sweet, little tears trickle down your cheeks.

Elvis would always praise you and make it clear what he was doing too, never leaving you in the dark.

"M'gonna take off these pretty lil' panties now, little girl."

"Open them lips f'me doll, that's it, just like that, good." He would hiss.

"Daddy's gotchu, s'okay baby, yer likin' that ain't ya? S'okay, I know yer overstimulated. That's my girl."

"Yer takin' my fingers so well little one, that's right, you're doin' so good f'me. You like that dontchu dolly? Yeah? M'gonna add another finger, stretch out yer pretty lil' cunt, I know you can handle it baby."

And he'd delight in watching you get so worked up under him, writhing with pleasure and practically begging for more through whimpers and tears each time.

Yet still, that sweet naivety that clouded you never left. You were always still seeking Elvis' guidance and love and attention and that's when Elvis realised the gem that he had in you.

You'd gaze up at him with uncertainty, seeking reassurance with every move as he would teach you all the ways he enjoyed being pleasured and Elvis would have to stroke your pretty little head as he taught you how to give it.

You became obsessed with feeling pleasure from Elvis, you found yourself begging and mewling for it in the morning, whispering in Elvis' ear during the day asking for him to take you, and undressing yourself at the earliest opportunity in the evenings so that Elvis would have his way with you.

And he'd always chuckle at you fondly, adoring your sweet desperation. 

You didn't even know the names of the acts that the two of you were performing but it didn't matter, your head became fuzzier and fuzzier over time, your only goal was to feel the pleasure that Elvis gave you.

And it wasn't long before Elvis realised you were his naive little nymphomaniac.

You were sat in your regular spot in the International, watching Elvis perform. You just thought he was oh so magical, the way he sang, the way he moved and gyrated on stage, captivating you and the rest of the audience. You watched tiny beads of sweat drip down his tanned face onto the chest hairs that were exposed by the white jumpsuit he wore.

He'd look over at you, every now and then, sending you a wink to make sure you knew he remembered that you were the most important little girl in the audience and by the end of the show, that sweet desperation that had started to become an all too familiar feeling, was creeping its way in. 

And Elvis just loved to tease you. He practically relished in watching you whine and plead for his touch and his love, he just thought you were so sweet, especially when you still didn't understand half of what was going on, you just got so carried away. 

So, when you and Elvis finally made it back up to the hotel suite after the show, you were nothing short of desperate. See, Elvis had this thing where he was just so damn nice to everyone that after a show, he'd go around and thank everyone for their hard work, and whilst you loved that about him, you were growing needier and needier by the second.

Elvis knew you all too well though, he knew that he was dragging this out for his little desperate baby. In fact, he didn't just know, he enjoyed it. Elvis decided to drag out the process and turn you into his own needy little mess tonight.

"You look so pretty tonight baby, y'know that? Got all dressed up n'pretty f'me huh?" Elvis teased, lowering his head slightly to kiss the top of yours as his large hand traced your skimpy, sparkly dress that he'd bought for you, only three days before. 

You gulped and nodded quickly, smiling and letting out a giggle - he'd barely touched you and yet there you were all flustered. 

It was no surprise though that just a couple of loving words and a gentle touch from Elvis would send you spiralling each time he did it. You'd never experienced life the way that you had since Elvis came into it, before Elvis, you would attend your part time job, go to the library and do your studies. It was mundane, unexciting, and repetitive. Then, you met the most famous man in the entire world and everything changed, you had so many new experiences from spending hours in lavish boutiques, to dining next to the King of Rock n' Roll as you both sat in the crowd, watching Frank Sinatra singing. 

In all honesty, it was a life you were never prepared for, you still weren't adjusted to it all that well, that's why you clung to Elvis, he was like some form of security blanket for you, a protector of sorts that looked after you and cared for you. He knew you were new to everything so he would always take things slow with you, making sure that you were always okay and comfortable. 

He'd help alleviate the stress of the lifestyle change in lots of ways, for example, he would choose what you wore each day and how you did your hair and make up. Now, many people had called this controlling, but how were you, a girl that had never stepped foot on the Las Vegas strip, supposed to know what to wear to a casino and show? Elvis knew what would look good on you and what would be appropriate for each occasion because Elvis always knew what was best for you. He ended up knowing you better than you knew yourself.

The new world that surrounded you, Elvis' world, was intoxicating. You hardly ever had time to think straight or understand what was going on around you. 

But what you did know was that when Elvis touched you, you felt good, so you chased that feeling. 

"C-Can we, can we do the stuff?" You whispered, avoiding Elvis' gaze.

Elvis smirked, oh Lord you were just the most adorable little thing. "The stuff? Well baby, yer gon' have to use a couple more words than that." Elvis said with a dry chuckle, lighting up one of the Cuban cigars that Sammy Davis Jr had gifted him.

You sighed a little, a mix of desperation, impatience, frustration and embarrassment. "Can, c-can you, touch me?" You asked softly. "Please?" You squeaked, pleadingly.

"Oh Little One," Elvis hushed, causing a sweet whine to leave your lips. "Y'need me t'touch you huh baby?" Elvis teased as you nodded almost frantically with wide eyes, leading him to chuckle at your state. "Need me t'make you feel good hm?" Elvis said, his eyes growing dark in comparison to your wide, sparkly eyes.

"Uh-huh," You squeaked adorably, barely an inch between the two of you. 

God, Elvis could just devour you. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he cupped your face in his large coarse hands, his left hand also holding his cigar between his fingers, the warm filler of it tinging the skin on your pink cheek, making you wince as you gazed up at him with eyes wider than a Disney princess.

"I ain't gon' touch you tonight honey, no, yer gon' do it all on yer own." Elvis whispered cooly, as you whined at the thought of not having him touch you, your eyes resembling that of a puppy dog as your desperation grew.

"What do you mean?" You murmured looking up at Elvis tentatively with a shaky voice as Elvis placed his large hand on the small of your back and guided you to the bed where he set you down, moving you like you were his own little doll, but in many ways, that's exactly what you were.

"You're so needy Little One, yer gon' have t'learn how to pleasure yerself baby," Elvis teased, facing you as you sat upright, letting his hands roam up your sides as your body trembled in his hold.

You chewed on your lip cutely, "Are you not gon' touch me at all?" You asked, your head tilting.

"No honey, y'gotta learn how to touch yerself, yer gon' touch yerself f'me okay baby?" Elvis instructed and you nodded despite feeling apprehensive. "Good girl." Elvis praised. "All I'm gon' do is get you undressed so I can watch all of you as you play with your lil' pussy."

You shivered as Elvis' coarse hands shimmied your dress up, exposing your white panties that already had a wet patch that was making the fabric sheer and translucent, letting Elvis see the pretty pink flesh that was so needy. 

"Let's get these cute lil' panties off baby, looks like y'need them off." Elvis chuckled making you blush. "Oh baby, m'only teasin." Elvis said, soothing you as he dragged the damp panties over your legs, letting them pool at your feet as he grabbed each leg and helped untangle them from you, all the while being careful not to singe your skin with the burning cigar that he took a puff from every now and then. "Atta girl." He cooed. "Now, pretty girl, spread them legs f'me." Elvis instructed and you did exactly what you were told, gazing at him intently.

Elvis really had taken over your entire life, you basically worshipped the man. Sure, there was a noticeable age difference and there was a definite power imbalance but as much as you worshipped him, Elvis treated you like you were the most delicate, precious thing in his life.

Despite Elvis having all the power, he could practically feel his old men knees buckle whenever you would lie there on the mattress, staring up at him adoringly with those wide eyes full of curiosity and love. Your plump, glossy lips parted ever so slightly as you studied all of Elvis' movements as he took your tender wrist in his large hand, guiding your hand to your slick coated cunt.

Your breathing was shaky at best, your chest rising and falling ever so erratically, making Elvis smirk at how nervous you were, even though he knew how much you needed to be satisfied.

Slowly, he directed his hand over yours, making your soft, small fingers fondle your soaked folds, your slick leaking from your pussy as your fingers traced up and down your slit. 

Your gaze wandered back and forth between Elvis and what was happening 'down there', the curiosity and nervousness getting the better for you as you let out soft gasps and mewls at yours and Elvis' actions.

"Keep going." Elvis commanded, removing his hand from yours, letting you continue on with the motions as you began to pleasure yourself in front of the old man. "Tell me how it feels honey."  Elvis said, his voice emotionless as his eyes darkened on you as you squirmed about.

You blinked hazily, your mind becoming a mess, your attention becoming divided by the overwhelming sense of pleasure and the God of a man that stood at the end of the bed, towering over you, not taking his eyes off you and your body.

Only a single, small lamp illuminated the room in a dull, dark pink tone, the rest of the light coming from the Las Vegas strip, the bright lights reflecting into Elvis' suite, letting Elvis see the silouhette and highlights of your body as you let your fingers rub around your clit in circular motions, eliciting soft whines from you.

"Feels so... feels so nice." You sighed lazily, moving your hips in a pathetic attempt to create more pressure between you and your own hand - but Elvis could only find it adorable how desperate you were. "B-But," You said through breathy whimpers. "Want you."

Elvis smirked, a slight chuckle leaving him, one that had an almost sadistic tone to it as he walked to a chair opposite the bed and sat in it, taking a puff from his cigar, letting the smoke cloud him as he stared at you.

"Not tonight little girl. Yer gon' keep going until yer learn how to make yerself cum like a good girl." Elvis hissed, causing you to whine at his denial. "Tell me what yer gon' learn, I want to hear you say it." Elvis softly demanded.

"Gonna, gonna," You whined, trying to do as you're told all the while touching your cunt. "Learn how t'make myself cum." You recited, your mind becoming hazy and the pace of your fingers quickening.

"Why?" Elvis teased, enjoying watching you battle with yourself, as he made you have to think whilst he knew that all you wanted to do was mindlessly pleasure yourself.

"Good girl, m'a good girl." You whimpered, your eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"That's right baby." Elvis praised, taking a drag from his cigar, never letting his eyes leave your body. "Put your fingers in your pussy for Daddy." Elvis instructed firmly - almost coldly.

You blinked at him, pausing your motions to silently confirm what he had said to you.

"Now." Elvis growled and you nodded tearily, pushing two fingers into your soaked hole, whimpers leaving your lips as your pink cheeks felt tears trickling down them from the sensations and the experience.

"You've never fingered yerself, pretty girl?" Elvis asked, watching your trepidation and jolted movements, he could tell you were experienced from the smallest of things.

All you could manage was a shake of your head as it rested on the mattress, your eyes rolling towards the back of your head as you let your fingers pump in and out of your pink pussy - and if your cheeks weren't already pink enough, Elvis would've seen a blush creeping onto your face at the question.

You cry out adorably from the pleasuring feeling, as you practically hump your own fingers, not noticing that Elvis is now palming the large bulge in his pants.

Oh, how he loved to be the one to corrupt you like this.

"Faster." Elvis demanded before you stared at him with nerves and apprehension in your eyes. "Don't you want to be my good girl?" Elvis teased, exploiting your desire for praise.

You nodded feverishly, tossing your head back onto the mattress as you let your fingers tease your hole at a quicker pace, slipping through your walls, your own slick acting as lube.

"Look at you, so needy, doin' such a good job of playing with your cunt and puttin' on a show fr' Daddy." Elvis praised, knowing his words would send you spiralling.

And he didn't stop, urging you on with gentle commands, praises and downright filthy comments as he got off to you masturbating for the first time.

"Such a needy puppy, ain't ya? That's it, doin' such a good job baby."

"Yer such a pretty sight fr' Daddy, fuckin' yerself with those fingers baby, it's okay, you can go faster, you can do it."

"Just breathe baby, y'can fit in another, I know that pretty pussy of yours can handle it. Good girl, that's it."

"Feelin' good huh? Gon' touch yerself when I'm on stage huh? Yer cunt that desperate huh kid?"

Elvis continued teasing and praising you, talking you through your first orgasm from your own masturbation, your mewls turning into full-blown cries before your body collapsed, and you lethargically pulled your fingers from your glistening, wrecked cunt.

You pushed yourself up and blinked adorably, looking at the wet patches on the silk bedding before you shyly looked up at Elvis.

"M'sorry, I made a mess on your sheets." You whimpered, still feeling overwhelmed and extra-sensitive, sniffling as you wiped away a stray tear.

Elvis couldn't help but smirk at the adorable sight in front of him.

You, the love and light of his life, a naked, flustered, soaked mess on his silk bed sheets, your chest rising and falling erratically as you came down from your self-inflicted high.

"Uh-uh, ain't nothin' t'be sorry about baby." Elvis cooed and he watched relief wash over you as you offered him the goofiest, sweetest smile at the reassurance and Elvis felt his both his heart and cock jump.

How had he been so lucky to have such a sweet, little, naive nymphomaniac such as you?

[sloppiest-of-jos]

how about elvis & ditzy/innocent reader doing something in public?

thank you!! i don't do a lot of smut so i hope y'all like this! 🧚

🧚 masterlist 🧚 word count: 1,758

pairing: 70s elvis x innocent!ditzy!reader

warnings: fingering (f receiving), praise k!nk, overstim, public smut, daddy dom dynamics

"This bit is my favourite." You whisper adorably to Elvis, trying to be as quiet as possible and contain your sweet excitement at the scene about to play.

It wasn't uncommon for Elvis to hire out the Memphian Theater for you two and the Mafia. In fact, it was the go-to activity for you all after a long day of Elvis performing, recording or rehearsing. It was however, a bit more unusual for Elvis to let you pick the movie.

The choice was Sleeping Beauty, your favourite movie and Elvis would often call you his 'lil' sleepin' beauty' as you did indeed remind him of Princess Aurora.

Elvis smirked down at you, sat upright by his side, your big round eyes fixed on the screen as you mindlessly parted those pretty pink lips and put popcorn in your mouth, over and over again, your attention not leaving the screen as Aurora met Prince Phillip in the woods for the first time.

Knowing how transfixed his sweet little thing was, Elvis effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, your attention never wavering from the screen as you let Elvis manhandle you like his own little dolly.

Slowly, Elvis started feeding you the popcorn, as you watched the movie like a good girl. Absent-mindedly, you'd wrap your lips around Elvis' thumb or his finger as he'd place it in your mouth so you could suck the sugary sweet residue off his digits.

Truth be told, Elvis hadn't followed along with the movie since the first scene, his attention solely on you. But oh, how he adored watching you be so entertained and sweet for him.

He knew the rest of the Mafia weren't over the moon with your choice of movie, it wasn't exactly the usual Western that they were used to, but Elvis didn't care, he only cared about the sweet thing on his lap. Besides, they were a few rows back, allowing the two of you to have your own space.

All of Elvis' affectionate touches and kisses went over your head initially, your mind elsewhere, enjoying the popcorn you were being fed by the big, old man who's lap you were settled on.

It wasn't until Elvis wrapped a strong arm around your tummy, holding you in place as he shuffled in his place, letting his legs part ever so, so that your legs were now completely apart, each leg dangling over each of his, leaving your core dangerously exposed under your sweet pink skirt, that you begin to feel that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Gently, Elvis' coarse, large hands toyed with the hem of your skirt, his fingers lingering ever closer to your centre. Elvis kept his arm secured tightly around you, holding you in place so you couldn't squirm about as he began to trace circles into your plush thigh.

"Um..." You murmured softly, feeling that all too familiar funny feeling from Elvis' touch.

"Uh-uh doll, no talkin' durin' the movie pretty girl." Elvis reprimanded cooly, whispering in your ear from behind and making your shiver all over, causing you to try and squirm before realising that Elvis was holding you closely to him. "Eyes on the screen lil' one." Elvis instructed, quietly delighting in teasing you.

Elvis didn't wait though before he dragged his hands up your thighs, pushing up your pretty skirt and exposing your panties to the cold air of the theatre.

You blinked sweetly, trying to keep your attention on the movie that Elvis had paid a lot to have screened for you.

It was only when you felt Elvis' fingers toy at the damp fabric between your legs that you let out another stuttered gasp, your head lolling forward ever so, at the sudden sensation.

"Such a sensitive thing, hm?" Elvis whispered into your ear at your reaction at just a mere touch.

See, Elvis was right. It didn't take much for Elvis to stimulate you, he knew you inside out and he knew exactly how to work you into overdrive, and oh how we adored watching you get all antsy and disoriented.

And of course, Elvis knew what he was doing to you. He knew exactly what he wanted to happen during the movie as soon as he'd booked it. He knew that he'd wanted to pleasure you in the darkened room as soon as your eyes went wide with delight when Elvis told about the date night. Even as Elvis held your hand and led you to the seats in the theatre, Elvis knew those hands would be somewhere else entirely within a matter of minutes.

All you knew of course, was that you were excited for the movie that in your words was "just oh so pretty!". Elvis' decidedly darker intentions with you had gone right over your sweet head.

But there you both were, your lips parted and glossy as Elvis' fingers slipped under the damp fabric and began to massage your clit, pressing his thumb onto it and applying pressure as he rubbed you in circular motions.

Elvis watched with a smirk as he felt your chest rise and fall at a quicker and more erratic pace, he relished in the power he had over you.

You began to writhe in his hold before you felt his grip get tighter around your waist, his silent sign to hold still, a sign that you instantly obeyed. But there was nothing that could stop your head falling back on his shoulder as Elvis' fingers rubbed through your glistening folds, slick coating them.

Your breathing had now become erratic with breathy pants leaving your lips as the urge to mewl at the sensation grew and grew.

"Good girl, gotta keep quiet huh?" Elvis hushed, making you want to whine but you knew you couldn't draw any attention to the pair of you. "Now, pay attention to your movie baby." Elvis said, teasing you as he knew you were struggling with even keeping your eyes open, let alone concentrating on the movie on the screen but he just wanted to make you into a little mess.

And without warning, Elvis slipped a finger into your hole, your muscles tightening around it as you whimpered softly, tears pricking at your eyes from the searing pleasure and burn of it.

"That's it, taking it like such a good girl, ain'tchu?" Elvis soothed in your ear, knowing the torment he was putting you through by not letting you moan and whine like you normally would in Graceland.

You managed a feeble nod as your wet lashes fluttered, drinking in the pleasure as Elvis stretched your walls.

"Would you like another one?" Elvis asked cooly, a gloating smile taking over his face as you quickly nodded.

"Yes." You hissed, inadvertently rocking your hips ever so slightly, getting all desperate for Elvis' touch.

But Elvis wasn't one to give up control as he swatted your side at your movements, tsk-ing at you disapprovingly.

"Uh-uh Little, you just sit tight and keep them eyes on the screen and behave." Elvis reprimanded, as he stretched you further, putting in another finger, pumping them in and out of your pretty pussy, placing gentle kisses on your cheek and neck, overstimulating you more and more by the minute.

Your face was all flushed and pink, your hands balmy as you gripped onto Elvis' strong arm that was across your tummy with one of them and continued to hold the box of popcorn tightly with the other.

Elvis quickened his pace in you, watching with intensity as he watched a tear fall from your wet lashes. "Mmm baby, yer so sweet n' soaked, ain't ya?" Elvis teased lowly, watching you furrow your brow, trying so hard to be a good girl like you'd been told and keep in the moans you wanted to desperately to let out.

At this point, you're in total bliss, you're nothing more than a dripping mess in Elvis' arms, totally succumbed to his touch and desperate for more of it.

And this is exactly why Elvis is just so in love with you. You're his little dolly, to use exactly the way he wants, whenever he wants. It doesn't matter if the entire Memphis Mafia are 10 rows behind you, it doesn't matter if this is your favourite movie that you haven't seen for years, it doesn't matter that your panties are by your ankles in the middle of the Memphian, all that matters is that you belong to Elvis.

Truth be told, despite Elvis telling you multiple times not to make a peep, he didn't actually care if anyone heard the two of you, in fact, it turned him on to know that he had this sort of dominance and power over you that everyone would know that you're his, that you listen and follow every word that comes out of his mouth, that you love him just as much as he loves you.

You can feel that 'love' underneath you too, rock hard and huge, pressing into your ass, as he continues to pump his fingers into you and you bite your lip in a desperate bid not to cry out loud.

It didn't take long for Elvis to quicken his already fast pace on you, sending you into sensory overload, not being able to cope and hold it in any more.

"Let it out f'me." Elvis soothed sternly and it wouldn't be a lie to say your vision went all blurry and starry as your mind become clouded and you felt that familiar warmth spread through your body and your pussy leaking on Elvis' fingers and pant leg.

You couldn't help but let out a gasp as Elvis removed his fingers from you and Elvis didn't reprimand you this time, knowing that all you'd been was a good girl for him.

Elvis manouvered you ever so slightly so he could grab your damp panties that had fallen to your ankles and pocketed them before you had the chance to lazily grab them, he'd give them back to you when you both arrived back to Graceland.

Elvis watched you with that shit-eating grin on his face as you blinked hazily, looking adorably dumb-founded as you sat in his lap, cum dripping down your bare leg as you looked up at him with that gorgeous, innocent gaze that Elvis could simply die for.

"You're gon' miss the movie dolly." Elvis said softly, pointing his ring clad finger at the screen, as he rubbed soothing circles in your back, knowing you'd be begging to come back to the movie theatre in no time.

[sloppiest-of-jos]

𝑛𝑜 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑡 ~

"...that sugared place..." 𝜗𝜚

─────

AN: Hello there!! It feels gr8 to be back & writing for y’all. I decided to kick it off with a short but sultry? drabble as I wanted something quick to fill the appetite I left you angels in. 💋 My first time writing something for the era btw (it feels like I’m cheating on bde..)!!! I also have absolutely no idea how this plot came about or how it’d end so I quite literally typed away ‘til my heart was content…

Hopefully my writing skills aren’t too off or unclear due to the long writers block I was in. And, for the unanswered requests in my inbox I am doing my best to get to all of them don’t think I’ve forgotten about you!! <33

(pls exuse any errors! i still need to go bck & check for misspelling and or typos!)

kay, enjoy my lovely angels!! 🪽

wc: 2-3k words?? Summary: Experiencing the pure bliss of an untried orgasm as Elvis puts the blame on himself for how poorly he’d been loving on you. (prob gonna tweak/change this later but for now this dull summary shall stay, ig…) Pairing: '69-70!elvis x afab!reader Warnings: 18+, p in v, unprotected, smut (described rather mildly, i think, in comparison to my other works but it won't disappoint..I hope!), elvis' faltering innocence!kink, slight dubcon??(reader comes across quite the slow-witted girl), mentions religious acts & discussion

“W-Wait, El—“ Your cry came out rather bellowed underneath him as he barbed in and out of that lovely snatch he’d been looking after with such caution. Working that pelvis as if he had discarded the whole 'handle with care' label and was now fully taking charge over his girl. Indeed, you were more than willing to surrender, lying on your back within pale blue satin sheets with legs spread like the pages of a book, set up for him to explore at his leisure. His darling blues now blown out with lust as his black locks began to mat against his forehead, his pouty mug concentrating solely on the task at hand rather than your call on. Your painted toes nestled in silken bedding beneath, moving eagerly to dance against his calves, your body and soul urging to adhere to his foreign propulsion.

His way felt somewhat renewed, as if experiencing a sense of novelty all over again.

Still being so sweet but, vulgar, he didn't even bother to remove your slip, had you in bed before you knew it, only tearing those precious cotton undies before he fixed himself right at your center. And was he already stripped when you'd walked in? You would never know with how quick he had you in classic missionary, a smothering embrace with your knees bent to his own accord and his abdomen to yours.

𝜗𝜚

Elvis had always mused about leaving room for the 'Holy Spirit,' as if the act itself wasn't already far from holy. But rather than being a bible's length apart, a different length was embedded deeply inside you at the moment. He was a swayed man at times, so in his listening, leaving room for the Holy Spirit was simply, to acknowledge His presence.

How? …

To halt, before he bottomed out,

to moderate and limit his movements,

for his lovemaking to be almost merciful because he was to be justified afterwards if he did.

Now, whichever birdy claimed to him this, they knew very well that the man buried between your legs was easily influenced on occasion and would even take his established beliefs to the grave. Perhaps his finest boyish quality. Did he have the greatest degree of credulity possible?

Even so, this mindset that he's held so high on a pedestal seemed to get lost on its way, he was practically impaling into your sweetness, his hips driving forward with a fervor that bordered on desperation. It was as if he was trying to prove something—to take you to that sugared place only he was certain you'd never been. How did he fail to notice up to a couple nights ago… He'd been denying you that glorious delight for so long, putting two and two together, finally taking notice that you'd never have your fill but he'd always have his. …

And so, while he strived to conjure your big O, you grew wide-eyed, like a startled doe, as a dissimilar, delicate bloom of delight began to unfurl itself within. Your lips parted once more, but just before you could call out to him, he nuzzled your cheek with his bristly one to softly hush you. Breathlessly. "L-Let me, I've been refusin' my lil' girl for far too long." The way he kept moving, joined by his velvety voice and the faint smell of brut on him, left you rapt, unable to verbally oppose again, just sweet little breaths weeping out your kisser for him. He moved his cheek from yours, his dark gaze on your pretty, bedewed face with your once perfect hair splayed out above you. You looked as if trying to attune while startled, but yet, so taken. You poor thing, how couldn't you've been startled? he thought. So habituated to his selfish ways that you weren't tuned in to the knot that was beginning to form in your midsection.

Even in the earlier times of any coupling between you two, he was especially tactful of this mentality, considering the progression from initial hesitance to eventual intimacy.

Consisting of heavy petting until he was sorted out from all the fondling, then it led to him only probing the smallest proportion of his hooded tip into your untried virgin hole, and then finally, before you knew it, all of him entirely.

He'd been bent on starting off slow with you and being so very gentle too, never wanting to do any harm or damage to that precious fruit between your legs when he’d sink himself inside and out of his beau's peach, almost like he was striving to keep up an imitation that you were still all intact down below and not yet poked.

And you, so completely unaware of it, just settling for his better judgment, as he’d expect of you. He felt like a cruel man and the neglectful lover, even if he'd only been doing it for the righteous in the eyes of the Lord.

Giving you one more glance over, an underlying apologetic look in his icy stare, but his hips spurring out a shudder as he felt your snatch douse him—refreshingly unwonted. Elvis' mouth abruptly fell open, "O-Oh, baby," he bit back, a handsome scowl painting his face. You had no notice of how carefully he'd been staring, too occupied exploring the uncharted depths of what you didn't know was being veiled from you with shut eyes. Without attend, you had your hips shifting experimentally, creating filthy, sticky sounds as both limbs intertwined along the blue silk. Oh, that look on his face as he felt how wet his novice baby doe was beginning to grow, elevating his head some more to watch how your cheeks were blotched in rose, and how your chin was drawn up. Lookin' so pretty taking her first steps to that sugared place. He attached his lips to yours, scattering laden kisses as he whispered, "You sweet, sweet, girl." Sweet girl, because you yourself never realized how long you'd gone without it.

He continued to kiss away, from your lips to your nose, then your forehead, before he tucked his perfect chin at the crown of your head. This was it. He was letting himself be swallowed, entirely forgetting the Holy Spirit all in one, the precious blushing missy underneath him was his one and only acknowledgement now.

In that moment, your eyes shot open as he pressed into you some more, your core completely full and snug as he cocooned you between himself and the mattress. Your hands swiftly latched onto his shoulders, peachy pink manicured nails digging into his tan skin, a tension was building, and its unfamiliarity began to confuse you. “E-Elvis.” A weep at last managed to fall out of your very kissed-out lips as you jostled at his shoulders and wriggled your legs, a helpless attempt to calm the way his hips were moving and his rough thatch of hair was grinding on your perked pearl just right.

Elvis was disappearing, his large hands tangled through your hair, elbows to the bed as he dug his nose into your tresses, snuffling the feebleness of powdery floral shampoo. Rather than halting for you, he found the way you cried his name sickly sweet, instead, he cradled you in his arms some more, your face now embedded into his damp chest as his bushy mound continued to graze at your tender button. "Needs'ta show her what she's been missin'." He muffled out airily within your head of hair, continuing his relentless assault on your senses. Your body was fawn-like in his arms, so small, helpless, and completely at his mercy. Whimpering into him as he huffed, your warm, lush folds opened around with each thrust.

Elvis suddenly hissed at the thought of having taken this long to finally mold your sweet, cute cunt around him. Kissing down on your head almost mercifully. You attempted to meet his gaze as you felt his lips press down on you, but failed miserably when he pulled you back to his chest. The knot in your tummy was beginning to tighten from the friction he was creating along your bundle of nerves. It didn’t help that your perked nipples rolled against the thin fabric of your slip as his body continuously brushed into yours.

And every time he pulled away just to sink back into you, he’d hear a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it. You were near coming undone, your body beginning to act of its own accord, unconsciously bucking your hips to meet his own. He found it adorable—his yearling of a girl doing her best to mimic and brush up on his shrubbery thicket. Elvis’ breath drew in through his teeth, and as you struggled to meet his bearish pace, swiftly he moved a hand to your backside, tensely beckoning you to wrap your legs around him. “C’mon, wrap 'em—wrap ‘em ‘round me, hon’.” Giving your bubble bottom a pat.

Unable to form any words with your face practically smushed into his firm sternum, you did your best to loosely get them around. Just to instantly regret the new position, a yelp tore out of your chest—his tip was near kissing your cervix. In all the way he was, forcing your slippery petals farther apart than he'd ever done, completely immersed in the tiny fawns pink flesh. A tear urged to slip through the wisps of your lashes, he had every pulsing inch and curve of his hardened length jamming at your tiny canal. His grip cruelly tightened as you attempted to raise up and dismount, too busy shuddering, even spurting a little at how much warmer and softer it felt here for him to give a damn that he was blistering his nice girl from within.

Goddamit! He condemned himself once more for how much he held back on exploring his sweet little girls snatch.

You'd been too benevolent, too forbearing, not to beckon him in the past, letting him do what he thought was best. When really all his nourishing, protecting, and enduring was only going to lead you to languish in the bittersweetness of it all. He'd been so very careless out of pure conformity intent.

Still. It was you.

He needed you to forgive him, to let him kneel before you with his head bowed at your lap, for how terribly and wrongly he's done bedding you. To let him avow as you bear witness, just to bathe him in the soft, forgiving light that was your embrace. Yes, that was to be the preplan. 

It'd not been long before he began skidding to it again with these thoughts whirling in mind, aware for a fact that you felt like he was spearing you outside your ability, yet it all the rather burned delicately, your pearl all the lively with slick and getting the best rubbing she's ever had. His hips were moving laboriously, whilst leaking a litany of contrite things through his fatigued exhales. "…'ve done m-mah baby wrong." His mangled mumbles went unheard, filtered out to your heed, all you could pick up on was his lovely wrecked breathing and the slippery, molten mess forming where you both were joined. "I-its feeling too h-hot, E-Els," you mumble against his chest, your voice strained and shaky. But despite the suffocating heat, you can't bring yourself to move away from him. "Only a-a good hot, darlin'," he drawled out, "U-Uh lil' burnin' love can do ya real good."

But as you lay there, wrapped up in his arms, feeling the sweat permeating your bodies, you couldn't help but feel a bit scared. His words were soothing, his touch heavy and comforting, but it felt as if something was bound to be driven out of you. The room filled with the sound of limbs intertwining and haggered exhales, as it all was becoming too much. You’d gone half lidded, your mind was totally elsewhere, going blank as bliss began to engross your entire being. “Wh-what’s, oh, E-Elvis o-“ you purled, becoming confuzzled when your tummy began to cave in and convulse, your weakening body looked about ready to shrivel in his hold, those pretty nails frantically wringing angrily at his bicep in disarray. You can't help but allow your head to thrash in a muddled protest a few times before a bitten off shriek of startled ecstasy tumbles from your mouth. His darling doe has made it. Seeing stars as he held you in his big arms, the slippery fabric sticking to your back from all the perspiration that'd been created.

Elvis' lips puckered and his mouth damn near watered, feeling the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him, his breath catching in his throat as he felt himself begin to falter in his movements. He clutched you closer, his face still very much buried in your mess of locks, letting your body tremble against his own, a soft sound escaped his lips—a quiet snicker that slipped out unbidden. "A-Atta girl, let it have ya." "Let it have m-my pretty 'ittle baby," he cooed just as he began circling his hips to stir more of those cute fusses out of you, and succeeding, not only had you become a noisey, thrashing mess under him but a faucet too, spilling all over his tump of curls and staining the sheets a deep blue.

Lord up above knows, he had to have you like this every time now.

Your throat seemed to begin going dry as you rode the wave of this unsettling bliss that has you believing you've just been reborn, flushed out face still deeply lodged in his chest, the radiant heat of both bodies was practically suffocating, so, tentatively, you made an initial move to pull away.

Only to be beckoned back, "S-Stay…'st bit more." His movements were sloppy and weakening as he embarked on his own release, yet his hold on you didn’t falter. Forging you to comply and stay put. Relishing the way you were smothering his thighs, he was hardly concerned with how hot you were burning and undulating beneath him. His cock weeping with joy while he’s burying his elbows into the mattress, lifting his hips a bit higher than before (a tendency to pull out) with each thrust as that beloved lip curl begins to frame his pouty mouth. Within seconds, a yelp is let loose from you as you're released from his embrace, and he has his pulsating length in and out of you, bunching your slip up and keeping it in place with his fist for his leaky pecker to find solace against your bare tummy.

It was routinely his favorite way to finish.

His eyes were too busy screwed shut, but he was sure you were all the scandalized, fragile looking thing right now. “L-Lord—fuck.” A pained cry erupted from his lips as both weakened bodies slid up and down, up and down against one another, his hooded crimson tip digging into your supple skin on the brink of ecstasy. You shove gently at his smooth shoulder blade, your hinde eyes downcast to look between the two of you, your mouth emitting soft gusts of air, curiously running your delicate hand upon your muff, eager to understand all the wet that had spilled from you. Breaths continuously strike your forehead while he snarls above you.

Then.

Before you know it, he’s whimpering softly and resting his forehead against yours firmly for leverage, rubbing a few more times, clumsily, drawing up just as hot milky white spurts come flying out, his body going taut for a second before he’s shivering against you. Your stomachs are coated in the stickiness and messiness of it all, but all the while, you can't help but feel overwhelmed by all this, him creating a beautiful mess amongst you two was no unusual thing, but a distinct part of you felt pleasantly defiled.

He sucks in a final breath when he feels himself starting to soften, giving one final unwilling thrust before inclining upwards with the help of his elblows on either side of your head, his visage blissfully spent and exhausted. His striking face acends from yours before his lips poorly land a kiss on your forehead, his slumped gaze finally takes a moment as you lie there, a fawn fragility heavily decrying your appearance.

A little wide eyed thing with pink blooms on your cheeks that blotchily dragged down to your jaw. And your lips, a perfect O of disbilef, your hair beautifully ravegged from all the tugging his hands performed, strands of hair falling haphazardly across your face as you recollect on the otherworldly sensation that had been withheld from you on his behalf. It was captured across your entire face—unadulterated bliss.

You feel his weight shift as he finally draws away, his eyes watching his pearly spunk glide down your belly button hole before they land at the small hand that was still ghostly feeling at herself. Only for his gaze to wander back over across your face, the lack of awareness in its expression suddenly mirrors a revived ache in his chest, a tangible reminder of how half-baked he'd been having you.

He helped pull your slip down to cover modesty, it’s sapped material now glued to your exterior, then sank to his side next to you while still facing you, taking ahold of your prettified hand and gently squeezing it. "H-Had ya hidden in the dark for so long," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the hazed room. You lazily sat up half way, trying to register his muffled words, "…What?" Your voice soft and awkward due to the remaining sensitivity your body is still feeling, which has been causing you to jerk every so often. "Ya ain’t know any better," he murmured, completely disregarding your inquiry and brushing a strand of hair away from your aflush, impeccable face. Kissing your hand swiftly before he sat up himself, as he recalled, "Hafta forgive me.." Observing the confusion that formed in the curve of your mouth when you tilted your head at him, how the gentle arch of your brow furrowed in contemplation, observing as his sweet missy found herself lost in the labyrinth of her man's indecipherable words. Of course, you didn't know any better. He began pulling his gorgeously tanned, naked form off of you, giving you a sort of guilty glance, if you weren't mistaken. "H-Hey, where you—" you trailed off quietly as you watched him blunder off and then descend to his knees before you, in front of the baby blue draped bed, where your legs dangled from the edge. "Elvis?" you called demurely.

With a deep breath, he raised his hand to his forehead, then down to his chest, across to his left shoulder, and finally to his right shoulder. The sign of a cross before confession.

For that to be righteous in your eyes, regardless if you hadn't a clue as to why this gorgeous beast of man was kneeling at your feet.

Fin…

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[sloppiest-of-jos]

I'm sorry this took me a million years to write @sloppiest-of-jos! Anyway, I hope it lives up to what you were wanting!

Searching for You

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and touch of angst

Word count: ~2.5k

"Elvis, you have a WIFE and a CHILD. Tell me again how you think this could possibly work out?!" Elvis sits in a chair, watching you pace around the room from behind his silver sunglasses.

"Honey, I've told you and told you. Those are my problems, not yours. I love you. I want you." He stands up and walks over to you, taking your hand gently and rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb. You look up at him and almost melt. Then, you yank your hand away and walk across the room.

"No! This has gone on for way too long." Memories of how you met on the set of the Singer special in '68 come screaming back to you. You think about him noticing you, a humble back up dancer for the bordello scene. He had walked straight to you and asked your name, not even bothering to pretend like he didn't like you. You'd seen him with the other girls and couldn't believe he was actually talking to you. But something about you caught his attention and he wasn't letting you get away. He invited you up to his dressing room after filming was finished and it didn't take long at all for you to end up naked on the couch, squirming as he brought you pleasure you had only ever dreamed about.

That was two years ago.

No matter how hard the two of you tried, you couldn't stay away from each other. The space between you was electric and you made ways to be together as often as possible, despite his marital status and your guilt. You fell hard and fast for him and he insisted he felt the same way, but he never entertained the possibility of ending his marriage.

On this particular occasion, you pace the floor half-dressed insisting this will be the last time. You're leaving California, removing yourself from the equation, and he is not pleased. Once you pull on the rest of your clothes, you point your shoe at him and yell.

"I'm done, Elvis. I'm done with being your back up girl to keep you company when your wife is gone. It hurts too much."

"Honey, it's not like that! You're the one I want! If anything, she's the back up girl."

"Then why won't you leave her?"

"I-I I can't."

"Yeah." You stuff your shoes on your feet and head for the door. "Goodbye, Elvis."

This isn't the first time you've had this argument, by far, but what Elvis doesn't know is that this time you're really leaving. You pack up all your things with tears streaming down your cheeks and head for home. The drive is long, but you've hit the end of your capacity for loving Elvis like this. You wonder how long it'll take him to figure out you're gone. Will he even care?

******

Elvis gives you two weeks to get over this most recent fight, sure that all he has to do is call you when Priscilla goes out of town. But when he does, your phone's been cut off. He hangs up and looks at the receiver in confusion. Surely you didn't actually leave.

He gets in his car and drives to your apartment. Maybe you've just changed your number and he needs to appeal to you in person. But when he knocks on your door, a man he doesn't recognize answers. He gets over his initial wave of jealousy and asks about you.

"Uh, I'm looking for y/n?"

"No one here by that name. Wait are you-?"

"Thanks." Elvis turns and walks quickly back to his car before the guy can ask him for anything.

When he gets back to his house, he calls all of his Memphis mafia into the living room and gives them an assignment. They need to find you and he wants it done yesterday. The guys all look at each other in mild panic and then head out to see what they can do while Elvis sits on the couch smoking a cigarillo trying to process his shock. You're really gone. Where on earth did you go?

******

After a week of Elvis wracking his brain and the guys bribing neighbors and friends, Sonny finally has a breakthrough.

"I was able to get ahold of her best friend at work."

"Yeah, and?"

"She went home to Kentucky."

"Home to Kentucky. Where in Kentucky?"

"She didn't know, but she said she knew it wasn't far from Nashville." Elvis rolls his eyes.

"What the hell does that even mean?! There are a lot of places in Kentucky that aren't far from Nashville. How does she define far?" Sonny looks at the ground and shakes his head.

"I don't know, boss. That's all she knew."

"Goddamnit." Elvis kicks the nearest table and Sonny looks at him hard.

"Might be time to give up on this one." Elvis meets his eyes with his eyebrows raised and then shakes his head.

"No. She's... no." He turns and heads for his bedroom. When he comes back with a suitcase, Sonny tries to stop him.

"Where you goin'?"

"Well, I guess I'm going somewhere in Kentucky that's not far from Nashville."

"You're really gonna go after her then?"

"Yes." Elvis gets in his car and starts on the road East towards Kentucky and you.

******

When Elvis finally makes it to Kentucky, he drives from small town to small town looking for you. He has a picture of you that he took one night that he shows to people. He has lots of pictures of you, but this is the only one appropriate for public consumption. He thanks God that he thought to take one with your clothes on one time. Honestly, it's his favorite photo of you because it's so naturally beautiful, your smile gentle and your hair a little messy from lovemaking.

The more he looks for you, the more it becomes apparent how much he loves you. He's been saying it for a while, but the emptiness he experiences at not knowing how to find you makes him know exactly how true it is. He loves you so much that he's driving around Kentucky just to find you again. How did he think he could give you up?

He's starting to lose hope when he comes across a preacher in a small town called Franklin. Exhausted and hopeless, he shows him the picture of you.

"That's y/n!"

"Yes!" Elvis looks up, shocked. "Do you know her?"

"Of course I do. I baptized her, didn't I?" Elvis laughs and hugs the man.

"Is she here? Where can I find her?"

"I haven't seen her in a long time, but if she's in town, she'll be at her parents' house." He gives Elvis the address just as it begins to rain. For the first time in weeks, Elvis is filled with hope and he decides he'll do anything to get you back.

He pulls up in front of the address that the preacher gave him and his heart beats wildly. He's so close to being with you again. The steady rain soaks him to the bone and he knocks on your front door and waits for someone to open it.

You see him through the windows and panic. How the hell did he find you here?! You know you won't be able to resist him if he talks to you, so you run outside and jump in your car, backing out of the driveway quickly.

But he sees you and tries to run to the car.

"Honey, wait! I just wanna talk to ya!" You focus on the road ahead and step on the gas to get away. Elvis runs back to his car and jumps into the driver's seat, starting the engine and throwing it in drive. He tries to catch up to you, but you're driving like a crazy person. The rain is still coming down pretty hard and he starts to worry about you driving like this. As you head out of town, your car spins off the road into a ditch and he realizes he was right to be concerned. Thankfully, because of the spinning, you don't hit the ditch too hard. He parks and jumps out of the car to run to you. You manage to get the door open and stumble out.

That's when you feel strong arms around you. The familiarity of them makes you cry and you shake with sobs as he holds you. He stands there in the soft rain, stroking your hair and whispering to you.

"You're okay, honey. I've got you. You're okay." After several minutes of this, you pull away from him and yell.

"What are you doing here Elvis?!"

"I needed to see you."

"Why?!" He pushes a piece of rain-soaked hair behind your ear.

"Because I love you, baby." You look up at him, your eyes wide as the rain continues to fall on you both.

"No! I'm not falling into this with you again!"

"Honey, I drove across the country to find you. Is that not enough to prove that I'm serious?!"

"Where's your wife, Elvis?" He groans and pulls his wedding ring off of his finger.

"I don't care." He turns and throws the ring into the patch of trees and you gasp.

"Elvis, that was worth a lot of money!"

"Maybe, but I don't want it anymore. I don't want her anymore. I want you, ya stubborn brat."

"Why?" He rolls his eyes. His patience is wearing thin as the two of you stand in the cold rain together.

"Because I'm so in love with you I can't even think straight when you're not around."

"I don't believe you."

"Y/n! Do you know how many small towns I've been to in Kentucky looking for you?! I love you so much I can't even imagine my life without you." You contemplate what he's saying. This is a long road to travel for casual sex. Maybe he does love you as much as he says he does, but there's still too many complications.

"How, Elvis-?"

"I'm leaving Priscilla." Your heart stops. Is he serious? "I can't live another minute without you. You're all I think about from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep. Honey, I will do anything to prove to you that I want you and no one else."

You look up at him, your heart so full of love for him that you feel like it might burst.

"You'd really do that? Leave your wife and the mother of your child. For me?"

"Yes. I should never have married her in the first place."

"Elvis..."

"All my life I've been searching for you. I just didn't know it. I should've waited. But I'm here now and I'm telling you. I love you more than life itself. Let me love you, honey."

And then you utter two syllables that will change your life forever.

"Okay." In the blink of an eye, he wraps himself around you, his mouth pressed to yours in a passionate kiss. He grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you so that your legs are around his waist, his lips never leaving yours. The rain has softened, so he carries you to the hood of his car and sets your bottom down. You've never kissed anyone with such fervor before. It's like you're trying to melt into one another with the way you press yourselves together. You arch your back as he rolls his hips forward into you, his erection pushing against you through his pants. He runs his hands up your thighs and pulls your panties down under your mini skirt. His thumb runs up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top and he begins to rub circles there. You drop your head backwards and moan loudly. Without another thought, you unzip his pants and pull his cock out, stroking it slowly with your hand. He groans and kisses down your neck, while you pull him to you and run the tip of his dick up and down your entrance. He mutters against your lips.

"You're such a tease, honey."

"Yeah, but you love me."

"God, I really do. So fucking much." He thrusts his hips forward and pushes into you, almost filling you in one motion. You cry out with pleasure when he does and lean back against the car. He pulls out and thrusts forward again, grunting. This time his hips meet yours as his entire cock is inside you. He makes a sound that's somewhere between a whimper and a moan and begins to slide in and out of you, pounding you to the steady rhythm of the rain.

The sensation of him slamming against you is enough to push you over the edge and you tumble headfirst into an intense orgasm, moaning and writhing and pulsing around him.

"Fuck, honey, I love you." You pull him down on top of you and whisper in his ear.

"I love you too." It's the first time you've ever said it back to him. He whimpers and kisses down your neck to your cleavage, never changing his steady pace of pumping into you. You can tell by the way his thrusting becomes more erratic that he's getting close too.

Finally, he slams into you hard and shudders against you, filling you with ropes of cum. It's also the first time he's ever cum inside you: another indicator that he's serious about you.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle as he collapses on top of you, spent and breathing heavily. He slides out of you and stands up, pulling you into a sitting position on the hood of his car.

"Come home with me, honey." He kisses your cheek affectionately and then backs up to look you in the eye, his blues ones seeing straight through to your soul. You couldn't tell him no even if you wanted to.

"I gave up my apartment."

"I want you to live with me." You raise your eyebrows.

"You still have a wife."

"I won't for long. I'll buy us a house. Just please say you'll come home with me." You nod and lean your forehead against his chest.

"I'm yours, Elvis." He tips your chin up to look at him.

"And I'm yours." He kisses your lips tenderly. "Now come on. Let's get out of the rain."

He drives you back to your parents' house, where you both change into dry clothes and settle on the couch together. Surprisingly, he's perfectly comfortable there with your mom and dad. He stays for a few days with you, letting you give him the grand tour of your hometown. Eventually, you head back to California together. Your car is totaled, so he promises to buy you a new one once you get home.

He wastes no time in leaving Priscilla and starting divorce proceedings. In the meantime, he buys the two of you a cozy little love nest and you're perfectly happy there with him.

The Kentucky rain was a baptism of sorts and you both came out of it changed for the better. It's not always smooth sailing, he is Elvis Presley after all, but you're happy more often than not. You never run away again, though you know he'd chase you if you did. And every time it rains, he holds you close and you remember the cold Kentucky rain.

******

The End

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

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[sloppiest-of-jos]

Good Night Elvis Girls!

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