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taintandviolent · 9 months ago

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Thrill of the Rush ; James March x reader

summary: Reader is a murderer, coquettish and demure in nature. She brings a man to the Hotel Cortez, and it ends how it always ends for them. The only difference, is that James March is watching her and is enamoured.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.6k! | serial killer!reader, graphic descriptions of murder, violence, blood and gore, descriptions of smut, cunnilingus, arousal, kissing/making out.

a/n: requested by anonymous and inspired by Lana Del Rey's Serial Killer song! hopefully this isn't too clunky, or boring in anyway! proofread very briefly, if you see any mistakes, no you didn't.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of future fics!

Elvis’s voice drifted from your speaker. The hotel room was cool, a stark contrast to the hot LA summer outside. The room itself was outdated in decor and architecture, something that you found charming – you’d chosen it specifically for its gorgeous, untouched art deco style. Stephen protested, saying it was rundown and dingy. You shushed him with a single manicured finger and led him inside, heading straight for the hotel desk.

He was a man. A stupid, hungry man who could only think with one head at a time. So, it didn’t take much for you to get up to the hotel room, and onto the bed. You’d let the strap of your dress fall off your creamy soft shoulder, coaxing him closer to you.

He nuzzled his lips into your breast, tugging softly at the skin. He muttered something into your skin, something grotesque, and you didn’t hear him. You were too busy listening to the thud of your own heartbeat – your own excited little heartbeat. You reached into your purse, which had been laying next to you, to retrieve the knife. It was a beautiful thing; pink pearlescent inlay on the handle, and a long, shimmery silver blade.

Raising it high above his head, your elegant fingers gripped the rosy hilt of your knife, and using all your strength, stabbed it into the side of the man's neck. The blade sliced through his skin like butter, giving no resistance. There was nothing like the sensation of killing – it never failed in making your eyes glisten, a cruel fire burning bright within them. Your chest fluttered with excited little breaths, rushing out over your pouting, pink lips in tiny gusts. The thrill, the rush, it was unlike anything you’d ever experienced – even sex. No man had ever made you feel the way killing him did. You twisted the knife slightly.

In response, he gurgled; a delightful sound that had you giggling. You had angled the knife just right, plunging it deep before yanking it out quickly. The blood spurted out in a warm geyser over your hand, trailing down your wrist in crimson ribbons. His hand flew to his neck, pitifully trying to stop the flowing river. You slapped his hand away softly.

"Pl-please..." He murmured, as his body started to droop away from yours.

You bent over, kissing the man on the forehead. As darling as you had been before, maybe even more so then. “Oh, baby…” you whispered, cloyingly sweet and soft like a summer day. He knew that he was going to die, and the begging was futile. Still, he persisted, wet and coughing between each plea.

You pushed him off of your breast, and more blood squirted out, the arteries pumping it out with each beat of his heart. James' dark pupils widened, watching as you worked. He hadn’t made himself known yet, and wouldn’t until you were finished. Nothing should interrupt this delicious display of cruelty.

“Tell me you love me,” you whispered. “Tell me I’m the sweetest girl you’ve ever seen.” He didn’t. He didn’t say anything else… and he never would again.

“Hmph.” Frustrated, you got off the bed, and smoothed your hands over your hips; the satin of your slip dress was warm and soft and provided no friction.

"Seems you've got yourself between a rock and hard place, my dear."

You spun around. In front of you stood a dashing man, dressed to the nines and resting some of his weight on a cane. He was handsome, but possessed a coldness that drew you in. He wasn't like the others.

"How did you get in here?!"

"The door was..." He turned to look at it, casually. "Open."

"No..." You shook your head, soft curls bouncing. Your tone was coy, knowing. "No, it wasn't."

"Ah," he said, tightening his lips into a sly smile. Had his heart been beating, it would’ve quickened at your darling little response. You were quick; a trait that he enjoyed and very rarely saw.

"He deserved it, you know." You looked at the man on the bed with a disproving sourness in your gaze. His body had slumped over the side of the mattress, blood streamed from the gash in his neck to his hairline, staining it red.

"I don't doubt that." He inhaled, stepping further into your room. "However... The problem remains of what to do with him. I presume you’ve yet to figure that out." His voice had your knees weak, turning the tendons to jell-o every time he spoke. It was so deep and croony, like molasses if it had a voice.

"No," you trilled. "No, but you seem like you do."

"I do," he started. There you went with your quick-witted confidence again. "You see, I have built this hotel to satisfy... my every need and whim, whatever they may be. I have a way to dispose of him for you."

Your hand lifted to your shoulder, your finger winding a lock of hair around it. You pursed your lips, as though you were considering his offer. The truth was, you’d already made up your mind. He was dangerous, unafraid, but interested in you. A refreshing change from the rest of the men that you courted and ultimately killed. Besides, he was right. You had a corpse in the room and were unsure what to do with it, besides leaving it and requesting another room, claiming something trivial like the hot water not working.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask, running your tongue along the bottom of your teeth, before coming to rest in the corner of your mouth. "You don't even know me."

"I don't, my little buttercup, this is fact, but what I do know of you, I crave."

Your knees wobbled. Somehow, he’d captivated you. You were never taken by men; they were useless, dumb playthings that you disposed of as soon as you got bored with them. You were never the one that was wrapped around a finger, it was always the other way around. But something… something about this man and the sick, nasty glimmer in his pitch-black eyes had you shivering.

“James March,” he declared proudly, before offering his hand. You placed your own atop his palm, and he leaned down, pressing his lips softly against your knuckles. Your lips tensed, withholding a whimper.

All at once, he closed in the distance between the two of you. Exactly what you wanted him to do, and without asking. You gasped, looking up into his soulless gaze. “Hold me,” you whispered. “Please.”

With a single nod, he enclosed you in a frighteningly firm grasp. You weren’t going anywhere – not that you wanted to.

“I don’t know what you do… or what you’ve done…” you whispered, feeling light in his arms. He held you like old movie stars held their beloved; arms wrapped passionately around the waist, holding you tight at the hip. James waited, on bated breath, for you to finish your sentence. Instead, you stood on your tiptoes, and pressed your soft lips against his. They were cool, and immediately surrendered to yours, parting to exhale into your mouth. As his breath filled your lungs, you succumbed to every feeling he was pulling from you; your legs quivered and pressed together tightly. Your core tightened, and your cunt clenched with arousal. Slick leaked into the silk of your underwear, staining the fabric with your submissiveness.

His head tilted, allowing him to go deeper inside your mouth. His tongue slipped along yours, twirling and exploring the soft, slippery flesh of your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, James walked you backwards, guiding you towards the bed. His shin knocked into the corpse’s head, which lolled lifelessly.

You were at his mercy, and gasping for air, broke the kiss to look down at your feet. Stephen’s eyes were glazed over now, void of life. He had paled, the crimson stark against his bloodless skin. A puddle had settled beneath his head, seeping into the carpet. You broke away from James and bent down, shoving all your weight down on Stephen's shoulders. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in, so he rolled over easily, towards the edge of the bed, which freed up most of the bed for whatever came next.

You immediately snuggled yourself back into James’ arms, nestling against his chest. “There… all better.”

He hmm’ed at the crown of your head, holding you tight. His hips ground against yours, a stiffness pressing into your hip bone. A reminder – he was a man. But not akin to the other men… he was different. You looked up, gazing into his eyes.

James guided you backwards onto the bed, your ass hitting the mattress with a squeak of protest from the old springs. Placing one hand on either side of your hips, he kissed you again, urging you back further yet. He was intoxicating. Everything he did had you quivering like a lamb in the jaws of a wolf – and you wanted more of it. More of everything. You wanted him.

“I love you just a little too much,” you cooed, brushing your lips over his neck. The satin of his ascot brushed against your chin and you longed to feel it tied around your wrists. Your hand brushed along his bulge, feeling the taut fabric that covered it. As the feelings bubbled up inside of you, effervescent like champagne, you couldn’t stand it. No man should ever make you feel the way he did and with a small gasp of air, you reached for your knife again. James caught you fast, holding your wrist in an iron grip.

“I’m afraid not, my dear. You won’t get that pleasure with me.”

“Pleasure?” You asked, doe-eyed, feigning innocence yet again.

“Perhaps another pleasure,” he cooed against your lips, his moustache tickling the flesh under your nose. You were divine… a shining beacon of temptation amongst a sea of poor fools. It had been decades since a woman captivated him the way you did.

James sank to his knees, slowly, as you watched, holding your breath. His hands gathered your satin slip over your knees, and pushed it over your hips, exposing your silken underwear. The wet spot had grown considerably, and James pressed his lips against the damp fabric. The sensation was electric, sending chills up your spine in a wave of unadulterated pleasure. He kissed her again, pressing harder. He could almost taste her through the silk. You whimpered, and let your head drop between your shoulders. He brushed his lips across your mound again, and you got even wetter. For a brief moment, he disappeared and the reaction was painfully visceral.

“Don’t…. Don’t stop…” you said to the ceiling, out of breath and trembling. You could hardly get yourself upright to look at him.

“I’ve no intention of doing so, my dear. None whatsoever.” Carefully, as though unwrapping a delicate gift, James pulled your underwear from your hips, tugging them delicately down your thighs. Murder always got him worked up, but this was an entirely different arousal.

“Let me see her…” he said, low His hands were on your thighs, resting carefully atop of them.

Using your manicured fingers, you reached forward to spread your cunt to him, eagerly, obediently. She glistened in the low-lighting of the room and you heard him inhale. He leaned closer to her and began kitten-licking between your folds, sending a shockwave through your core. She clenched uncontrollably, tightening. James paused to observe, pleased with the reaction. He’d done so little, and you were already a mess. Placing his hands behind your knees, he scooted you further towards him.

Your cunt ached with everything he did; from the gentle touches to the way that his moustache tickled the soft skin of your inner thigh. You weren’t used to your heart beating this quickly outside of killing someone. He was making you feel things you’d long since forgotten.

To say that you never experienced sexual pleasure would be a lie; you did. Usually, covered in blood and panting, after a kill, your body and senses would be so wound up that you’d finger yourself, use a vibrator, something to get yourself off. But this orgasm, you knew, would be different. And much quicker.

With a breath, he flattened his tongue against your cunt, lapping at it hungrily. Your muscles all trembled, the first hint of an orgasm clawing at your insides. And just before you did, he pulled away. Cruelly. Mercilessly. As though he knew that he had you under his spell…. Oh, you’d kill him if he’d only let you.

James slipped two fingers inside your waiting, wet cunt. You let out a desperate yelp, rocking your hips back and forth to meet his fingers. Electricity coursed through your core, your body quivering again. His fingers drilled into you, curling upwards with each thrust, hitting your sensitive spot. The pressure increased, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter around itself. You were close.

“Speak to me,” he ordered. “Use your voice.”

You swallowed, wetting your throat. It was frightfully hard to form words, your mind was too clouded with arousal and ecstasy. “C-can’t…. Feels…. So good….”

James leaned forward again, the tip of his tongue drilling into your sensitive clit, twirling at it. After a moment, he encircled your clit with his lips, sucking softly. You were sweet, wet and singing for him. James hummed into your pussy, satisfied. With his fingers still thrusting inside you, the overstimulation was too much. Your coil snapped, and your hands flew to his hair, making tight fists in the greased locks.

As you orgasmed, you called his name, chanting it over and over again like a prayer. He was there, between your legs, tugging you over the edge with whispered praises against your throbbing cunt. An attentive lover, James didn’t stop fucking you – or licking at you – until the final pulse subsided.

“Now that I’ve made you mine,” he said, straightening up. “Let’s deal with your little hobby, my dear.”

Made you his? You thought, chewing on the corner of your lip, as your eyes bored into his. How dare he – made you his. Despite feeling like you’d been bamboozled, you knew it was true. He’d made you his, and barred you from loving any other man again.

A knock at the door. You looked down at Stephen – you’d almost forgotten he was there. James got to his feet as the door opened, and you noticed that his cock had tented in his trousers, pulling against the fabric, begging for release. You gasped, looking at the woman as she entered. She was pushing a silver room service cart, though it was empty.

“Fret not my dear, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before.”

You furrowed your brows; his erection or a corpse in a hotel room? You weren’t sure which. Effortlessly, James hoisted Stephen’s expired body up onto the cart, waving his hand dismissively towards the woman, who hmm’d curtly, and made her way back towards the door.

“Follow me,” he said, jovially as he headed towards the open door. He began whistling a tune, as though wheeling a body out into the hallway was the most normal, routine thing he’d done all day. Perhaps it was. You heaved a breath, and got up off the bed, pulling your underwear back up.

“James, James, wait!”

He paused.

“Aren’t you going to… well…”

His eyes followed yours to his groin, which was still stiff. You sucked on your bottom lip, looking up at him with come-hither eyes. Curiosity had gotten the best of you. Despite having just come, you wanted more, and you desperately wanted to know what the weight of his cock felt like in your hands.

“Oh.” He smiled, pleased. With a slow nod, he reached forward to cup your chin with his large hands. “I’ll get mine.”

#James Patrick March #James March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #James Patrick March smut #ahs hotel #ahs smut #myfics #requests

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sissylittlefeather · 2 months ago

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12 Days of Ficmas

Day 3: The Sound of Your Cry

A/N: @vsangel-sparkle I hope you like this! It was tough to write. This song is such a heartbreaker! But I think it turned out pretty well. Hope you agree!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, angst/smut, oral sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation, infidelity

Word count: ~800

His lips are so soft on your fingertips as he kisses them before moving to your neck. You moan softly as he presses kisses to you. This isn't the first time you've found yourself with Elvis like this. In fact, it's been going on for quite some time. You know you're the other woman. You'd have to be an idiot not to know he has a girl back home that he's set to marry. But you love him so much that you don't care. So here in LA you make him yours as often as he'll let you.

And that's how you find yourself here again with him wrapped around you, praying that it never ends. Now he's kissing the supple skin of your breasts, pulling one nipple into his mouth as his hand roams down to your hip and squeezes.

“You're so beautiful, baby.” He murmurs against your skin. You know what he means by that. It's his coded way of telling you that he loves you. You want to respond that you love him with your whole heart, but you'd hate to put him on the spot like that, so instead you just moan softly as his kisses move down your body. He gets to your hip and gives you a little love bite, earning a small yelp from you. He chuckles and moves over to your center, dragging his tongue up your slit.

“I love those little noises, baby. Lemme hear you.” He buries his face in your pussy, pushing his tongue into you and then moving it up to your sensitive bud to circle it. You whimper and moan and make all the little sounds he can't get enough of. Truth be told, he loves you more than the girl he's supposed to marry, but he'll take that secret to the grave. His nuptial arrangement is unavoidable, and it's not that he doesn't love her. He just loves you more.

You lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on you, the overwhelming pleasure sending you over into an abyss of ecstasy easily. He licks you through your climax and you shudder and pulse and grind into his face. When you finish, he wipes his mouth with his hand and kisses back up your body. He settles himself between your legs and teases you for a bit before pushing into you slowly. You groan as he presses more hot kisses to your neck as he starts to slide in and out of you, slow and sensual.

He tells himself that what he's doing is fucking you, but he knows it's not true. He's making love to you in the only way he can: with his heart and soul so invested it almost hurts. And he knows. He knows that this has to be the last time. So he kisses you and touches you and inhales your scent a little more than normal, hoping you don't notice that something's different.

Of course you do and it almost breaks you, but you can't let him know that, so instead you roll your hips and whimper and moan just like you have every other time. You both start to sweat, your skin sticking to his when it touches, like even your bodies don't want to let go. Eventually, he pulls out and pumps his cock, spilling himself on your stomach. He sighs, wishing just this once that he'd been able to finish inside you, but it's a risk he knows he can't take. Once he's got you cleaned up with a towel, he rolls over and pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead. You fall asleep against his chest when you feel his breathing even out and know he's asleep too.

*****

He kneels next to the bed and looks at you as you sleep. The clock reads 4:53am and the sky is gray with the beginning hints of sunrise. He pushes your hair out of your face and kisses your cheek and then your lips. You stir a little and he inhales sharply. It's vital that you don't wake up. He couldn't leave you if you did and he has to leave you. He doesn't have a choice. His heart feels like it's in a vice and there are tears in his eyes when he leans in close and whispers.

“I love you, baby. I always will.”

Then, he forces himself to stand up and walk out. It might be the hardest thing he's ever done, but there's nothing else left for him to do. He pulls the door closed behind himself and looks up at the sky, cursing fate for the cruel twist that led him to you. Now he has to miss you forever.

As soon as the latch clicks and you know he's gone, you open your eyes. You whisper into the semi-darkness.

“I love you too, Elvis.”

******

The End

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

Taglist:

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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i know u have a gazillion requests but what if we spice up that Carlos fic? if you decide to do a pt 3. maybe Carlos is once again is frustrated because of the penalty after a good quali and has sex with Rebecca cuz he can't find the model. a lil angst

It’s no secret, I’m in an angsty kinda writing mood at the moment 😅 I also forgot who was meant to be the toxic one...and now it's both of them.

Lady in Red (3) || CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, cheating, manipulation WC: 1.5k

One || Two || Three || Four

You had been called away to work just before qualifying finished. You and half a dozen other models were asked to stand behind the top three drivers and wave feather fans for the cameras while an Elvis impersonator pumped out his signature dance moves.

From your position you could see the frustration on Carlos’ face. He had qualified second fastest yet he was going to have to start from 12th on the grid. You weren’t the only person in the area upset by the 10 place penalty and the Ferrari supporters were making their opinion known as they chanted for Carlos.

“Alright, sweethearts, we need you over at the Bellagio for some promo shots and then you’re free for the night,” one of the headset-clad organisers said to the group you were with before checking her watch. “Or should I say morning.”

The drive back from the Bellagio to the paddock seemed to take hours with the road closures and checkpoints, but finally you made it back. Knowing Carlos would be waiting somewhere for you, you scanned each floor to find him before heading straight to the top.

“Fuck, mi amor, this is what I need,” Carlos moaned.

You froze at the sordid scene you had walked in on. Neither one saw you in the doorway of the darkened room, their backs to you as Carlos bent Rebecca over the desk and pounded into her. He curled her hair around his fist and pulled back so to expose the pleasure painted on her face.

You didn’t even notice you were crying until a droplet fell from your cheek to land on your breast, the feather girl outfit he enjoyed on full display. You suddenly hated how exposed you felt in the ridiculous costume. It was almost as ridiculous as you - for thinking a man like him could change.

“Take it, cariña, take it,” he stammered as you recognised the pinch of his brow. He was close. He was close to finishing and you were more than done with seeing it.

You were conscious of your footsteps as you retreated from the room and descended downstairs. You just needed to make it to your dressing room so you could get your stuff and go.

“Hey,” Charlotte called out as she caught your arm and pulled you to a stop with a friendly smile. “Carlos was looking for you earlier. Did you find him?”

“Yeah, I did,” you whispered, quickly wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Don’t bother drafting up the breakup post.”

Her smile dimmed as confusion replaced it. “What breakup post?”

“Huh,” you laughed humorlessly as you shook your head at your stupidity. “The one Carlos clearly didn’t talk to you about. God, I am a fucking idiot.”

You left the track, heading straight back to your hotel room and before you even reached the room you saw Carlos’ name come up on your phone. You sent him straight to voicemail, again and again.

You barely slept as you thought about how humiliated you felt. You wanted to get him back but you weren’t innocent yourself. You knew your career would be over if you outed the relationship you had with Carlos, even if it made you feel better momentarily. No, you weren’t going to bloody your hands for him, there was already a stain on your soul for what you had knowingly done.

You were a survivor and you were smarter than your recent actions showed. You knew things about Carlos that he had been foolish enough to share in the unburdened state that came after sharing his bed. You were going to use it to your advantage and do what you did best, be the envy of every man.

You had turned your phone off when you arrived at the paddock for the race but it was going to be impossible to ignore Carlos when you were assigned to the Ferrari team.

“Stacy, swap with me?” you begged as she waited for Charles to escort him to the grid. “Pleeeease.”

“Whatever, French boys aren’t my thing anyway,” she said with a grin before heading next door to Carlos’ side.

“I’m not French,” Charles corrected as he stepped out of his room. “I’m Monégasque.”

“Today, you’re pole,” you said with a grin as you offered your elbow out to him. “Ready to go?”

You didn’t glance in Carlos’ direction as you accompanied Charles out onto the grid. You didn’t even have to fake enjoying the company as you found the Monégasque had a good sense of humour and made you laugh the entire way.

From the slamming of Carlos’ car door you knew you were getting to him. Carlos’ fear was losing to his team mate and he was sick of always being compared to Charles Leclerc.

Carefully angling the feather fan to hide your faces from the jealous driver, you leant in and wished Charles good luck for the race. To the fans, you were clearly talking, but to Carlos? He would always think the worst.

Charles was high with adrenaline when he arrived at the Bellagio after coming second place. It wasn’t the win he was obviously hoping for but you could see how happy he was with the result.

“So, you like Charles now, huh?” Stacy whispered as she stood as you did, a fake smile on your faces as you lined the interview stage.

You cast her a quick side glance and winked. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I know why you wanted to swap, Carlos acts like a fucking baby. He practically trashed his garage after Charlotte spoke to him about something. God, I wish I could have heard what that conversation was about.”

“Hmm, me too,” you said with a sick sense of delight as the interviews wrapped up. “Oh, finally, almost time to party.”

“You must be happy, proving Carlos wrong,” you teased Charles as you escorted him back to the Rolls Royce he arrived in.

His steps faltered and he slowed his walk as his other podium finishers drifted further ahead. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s been telling everyone how much better a driver he is compared to you,” you stated with a shrug. It was an exaggeration, you had overheard him complaining to his father in the garage. “But you showed him.”

“A better driver?” Charles scoffed. “He is full of shit.”

He seemed to be in deep contemplation as he walked silently, until he reached the car and turned to you. “You should come to the after party.”

Carlos had already added you to the invite list but you smiled and batted your lashes as Charles. “Are you asking me?”

He blushed and laughed at himself as he nodded. “Would you like to come to the after party with me?”

“You don’t have a girlfriend do you?”

“No,” he laughed warmly. “I wouldn’t be asking to take you if I did.”

“Then I would love to go with you.” You gave him your room number that was conveniently in the same hotel as him, since both Ferrari drivers stayed in the same one.

You already had the perfect dress waiting in your room and as you stood in front of the mirror you had to admit you looked stunning. The red dress was tailored to your body and the plunging neckline was risque and exactly what you envisioned it to be. You couldn’t wait to see Carlos’ face when you walked into the party on his teammate's arm.

“Hey,” you greeted as you opened the door after the knock, but it wasn’t who you expected to see on the other side. “Carlos, what are you doing here?”

His jaw fell slack, lips parting, as his eyes trailed down your body. “Mios dios, hermosa.”

You held your hand out, planting it on his chest as he stepped forward to kiss you. “Woah there, buddy, not happening.”

“Why not? Why have you been ignoring me?” he asked with genuine confusion.

“I saw you fucking Rebecca last night after Qualifying.”

He looked a little sheepish as he scratched the back of his heated neck. “I couldn’t find you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better when you call her ‘mi amor’ too?”

“I didn’t mean it, I-I was thinking about you,” his eyes widened as his voice went up a pitch. “I swear.”

You nodded sympathetically as you rubbed his arm. “Of course, like you were thinking about me when you didn’t have that chat with Charlotte. Yeah, I know you didn't, so just go back to your girlfriend.”

“But I want you,” he pouted as he bowed his head and looked up with big brown puppy dog eyes.

“But I don’t want you. Not anymore.” You gave him a push and he ceded the space in your doorway as the elevator across the hall opened and Charles stepped out looking good in a pair of jeans and a fitted shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. “Hey handsome,” you greeted him with a smile as you grabbed a black clutch with your phone and money. “Perfect timing.”

“You are breathtaking,” he said after a few blinks to recover from the sight of you. He smiled as he brushed past Carlos to kiss your cheek, ignoring the Spaniard completely. “Ready to go, chérie?”

You took his hand and sent a dark smile in Carlos’ direction as you passed by. “See you around, red man.”

Click here for part four.

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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atleastpleasetelephone · 5 months ago

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Kinktober Day 4 - Stockings

Pairing: 1970!Elvis x reader

Word count: 1K

TWs: Praise kink, Elvis calls reader Mama, stockings are heavily involved, subby!Elvis, blowjob, handjob.

A/N: This is a bit of a request from @polksaladava - I hope I did it justice!

Kinktober masterlist

Elvis runs his foot up and down between your stockinged calves. He loves the feeling of nylons against his skin, and they feel particularly good right now, with him naked pressed up against you in your lingerie.

You bite your lip and look up at him.

“You like them?

He nods. “Feels good.”

“How good?”

“Really good.”

“You wanna… try them on?”

He stares for a second and then frowns. “Think I’d stretch them, baby. My feet are a bit bigger than yours.”

You notice he hasn’t freaked out, or told you he’s not gay, or asked you what the hell you’re talking about. His only issue seems to be stretching your stockings. You shrug.

“You can just buy me some nice new ones, then.” Your fingers tangling in his hair.

He smiles a little. He’s sorely tempted. They do feel so nice. And he likes to do what you ask.

“Well okay then.”

You smile back and slip your garter off, before slowly rolling a stocking down your leg. You shift a little and then carefully pull it over his foot and up his leg, trying hard not to snag it. His foot is far too big for it, but you manage to get it just over his knee anyway, and then glide the garter up too. He giggles, rubbing one leg against the other.

“You want the other?” You ask.

“Well I’d look silly with just one, honey.”

You both dissolve into a fit of giggles, heads pressed together, his apple cheeks prominent and his eyes shining.

“Alright then.”

You repeat the process on the other leg, then sit back to admire your work. He admires you right back, enjoying the way your skimpy lingerie is hugging your curves. He’d always been a fan of white lace, but you’ve turned him on to black. You’ve turned him on to a lot of things he thought he didn’t like before he met you. Biting your lip, your eyes move up to his dick, watching it twitch. You can’t tell if it’s because your breasts are almost spilling completely out of your bra, or if it’s got something to do with the stockings. It’s making your mouth water, either way.

You crawl up between his thighs, running your hands up his legs before settling on your front with your hands on either side of his dick. You look up at him and he moves his hands above his head to grip onto the bed frame, obediently. You don’t even have to handcuff him these days.

He lets out a moan as you lick the tip, one hand moving to massage his balls.

“You look so pretty like this, baby,” you tell him, licking him from the base to the head like his dick is a lollipop.

“Mmmm.”

A few more licks and then you kneel instead, one hand running up and down his stockinged leg as you take him into your mouth. His chest heaves and he watches you through hooded eyes. You let him hit the back of your throat once, enjoying the guttural moan that comes along with it, and then pull off entirely, spit sliding down his length.

“Does my pretty baby like dressing up for Mama?” You tease.

“Mmmm. Y-yes. Yes, Mama.”

His words make you grin. He is so well-trained nowadays, unlike when you met him. He was all, you need to style your hair like this, only speak when you’re spoken to, wear the underwear I like. But he’s the same as all men; he likes to cum. So it was easy for you to train all that bossiness out of him. Well. You still let him act like it around the guys, it wouldn’t do to ruin his image after all. But the bedroom is your domain.

“Good. You’re a good boy aren’t you? A good boy for Mama,” you coo.

He nods enthusiastically. “I’m good,” he says, staring at you almost desperately, as if he’s trying to convince you.

You smirk, pumping him a few times with your hand before you let go, getting off the bed entirely and going to look for something in a drawer. He whines.

“Shh.”

His breathing comes in harsh pants, wanting you back on the bed, wanting contact on his aching dick, just wanting, but knowing he can’t move his hands. Eventually he sees you return with a single stocking.

“Think you’re going to have to buy me a few more pairs of these, baby.”

He nods. “Whatever you want, Mama.”

You grin again. “Good boy.”

Slipping your mouth back over him, you tease him, licking and sucking until he gets close and then slowing your movements down again. Repeating over and over. He moans and starts to plead.

“Mama. Please.”

“You wanna cum?”

Nodding, almost unable to speak.

You giggle, sitting back on your knees and rubbing your hands up and down his legs, enjoying the silky smoothness of the nylon there. Then you grab the other stocking.

“Let’s see how much you like my stockings, shall we?”

His eyes are like saucers when you wrap the stocking around his length and start to work his dick with it. It feels so good. You watch with delight as his hips buck into your hand and filthy moans fall from his lips.

“That’s it, good boy. Cum for Mama.”

He grunts as he cums, long and hard over your hand, the stocking and his belly. You stroke him through it and then let go, sitting back to look at him all over again.

“That’s a pretty mess you’ve made, isn’t it baby?”

He whines. “Fuck. Yes Mama. Please…”

“Let go,” you say softly, and he stops holding on to the bed frame.

You move so you’re next to him on the bed, then pull him into your arms, so you’re wrapped around him. He sighs with pleasure feeling you press against his back. This is his favourite part. Not the sex, though he loves that. The cuddling afterwards, when he feels like you love him the most.

“That was so good,” he whispers, after a while.

You kiss the back of his neck. “I liked it too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But maybe we need to buy you your own stockings.”

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

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vintageshanny · 1 year ago

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Softness and Security

This is just a little BDE one-shot in response to an anonymous request. Thank you to whoever requested this, I really love comforting and loving on Elvis through my writing! ❤️

Content: Big Daddy Elvis, mentions of medication and body insecurity, light smut, fluff, 18+

January 1977

Your heart raced nervously as Elvis deepened his kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth with an urgency that seemed heightened compared to his usual gentle kisses. You had been dating for only a couple months, but you’d assumed a big star like Elvis would have moved a lot faster than he did. He usually seemed content to just make out, his hands often running over your curves as his plush lips smushed into yours. You had tried a couple times to reach for the waistband of the track pants he liked to wear, indicating that you were okay taking things to the next level, but he would still your hand with his and whisper “Not quite time yet, darlin.’”

Tonight felt like it might be different. You had started the evening, as you often did, just talking. Elvis enjoyed talking about almost everything under the sun, and he seemed to know a little bit about everything. He honestly had impressed you with his knowledge. As you stared into each others’ eyes, the conversation eventually gave way to kissing, and somehow things just felt different. Like maybe he wouldn’t stop you and say “not quite time” tonight. Elvis’ hands moved from where they’d been cradling the back of your neck, one of them coming down to rest on your right breast, his long fingers spreading over it, and the other dropping to his own lap.

You decided to go for it and reached out, first giving the hand that rested on his lap a gentle squeeze, then reaching for the waistband of his navy blue pants. Instead of trying to stop you, Elvis groaned a little bit and murmured, “I haven’t been this aroused in a long time, honey. Go ‘head and see what ya do ta me.” You reached your hand down inside of his pants, discovering he had on no underwear to get in your way. You let your fingers travel down lightly over his skin, feeling the tickle of his curly patch of hair as you wrapped your hand around the base of his thick hard cock. You pumped your hand up and down a couple times, watching as his head tilted back in pleasure. “Damn, honey, I think it’s time,” he whispered excitedly. He stood and removed his jacket and tee shirt while you shyly slipped out of the wrap dress you’d been wearing. Elvis stepped closer and pulled you in tightly, his arms wrapping around you and unhooking your bra. He slowly pulled your panties down your legs, leaving you standing bare before him. As his hands roamed over your body, he asked with a little smile, “Ya nervous, honey?” Trembling under his touch, you nodded and closed your eyes. It always felt nerve-wracking the first time with someone new. And what a “someone” this was. “Me too,” Elvis admitted as he pulled his pants down and stepped out of them. As you looked over his naked body, you saw a blush creeping onto his face.

“Elvis, you’re so handsome,” you whispered, causing his blush to deepen as you lifted your hands to touch him. You traced over the trail of hair that led down his thick chest, all the way down to that part you wanted inside of you so badly. Elvis gently pushed you back onto the bed and climbed on top of you, his stomach pressing against yours. As he lined himself up to your entrance, you heard a small sigh escape his lips. “Is everything okay?” you asked nervously, hoping you hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe he’s realizing he’s not attracted to me, you thought, feeling suddenly panicked.

Elvis raised his head toward you but avoided eye contact, his whole face beet red now. “I-I-I’m sorry, honey, I-I th-th-thought I was ready, b-b-but…” he could barely get the words out through his stutter, and you realized that what you felt pressing against you down below was no longer hard.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“N-no, honey, ‘s not you at all. I’m t-t-takin’ some new medicine, and sometimes it just, I mean I can’t…” Elvis trailed off again, and you could see how embarrassed he was. Now it was all making sense why he kept telling you it wasn’t time yet. He was nervous about not being able to perform.

You grabbed his sweet face with your hands and tilted it toward you. “Elvis, look at me,” you instructed.

“I-I’m sorry, honey, ‘m jus’ embarrassed,” he mumbled, but he forced himself to look you in the eye.

“There’s nothing at all to be embarrassed about. It’s just from the medicine, like you said.”

“I-I know, honey, but I still wanna satisfy ya,” he mumbled. “Like a real man.”

“Elvis, you are most definitely a real man. There’s no question of that,” you whispered as you pulled him closer to you. He nuzzled his face into your neck as you ran your fingers through his soft hair, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of his sexy gray roots starting to show. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. Just feeling you lay on top of me like this, I’ve never felt so secure before. Only a real man could make me feel that.”

You could feel Elvis smile into your neck as he responded. “Is that right, honey? Ya like havin’ this big belly pressed against ya?” He asked in that self-deprecating way he had about him, half joking but half worried what you were thinking of him.

“Oh, if only you knew how much,” you said, kissing the top of his head. “I love having every inch of you pressed against me. I love…you,” you finished, surprising yourself with the confession, hoping it wasn’t too soon.

Elvis looked up at you with the sweetest lopsided smile. “I love ya too, honey.”

#elvis #elvis fan fic #elvis fan fiction #big daddy elvis #i love this man

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elviswhore69 · 8 months ago

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A/n : hi guys!! I'm sorry I haven't been posting stories or anything but I haven't had motivation especially since I've never gotten any requests which I really want but it's okay! I'm probably going to get back into posting and I'm still working on the second part of "please baby" anyway I hope you all like this little story. I have never seen this picture of Elvis buuuutttt when I did I just knew I had to write this. Love y'all!

SO DAMN GOOD .

⚠️ : female overstimulation, a little bit of edging, pussy eating, , dirty talk, no plot at all (I'm not good at that.) nipple play (🤏🏻), fingering , squirting and daddy kink(HOORAYYYYY)

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As you cry out from then overstimulation of Elvis's tounge in your pussy for the third time tonight, he slaps your ass when you begin to close your legs.

" M' not done yet y/n so sit still" he groans into your pussy as you begin to go over the edge, he knew you were going to cum when your body began to shake and your grabbed his hair harder then ever trying to grind your hips onto his perfect mouth.

"Elvis! I-im gonna cu-cum.." you shouted as you desperately grind your hips faster, right as soon as you feel your orgasm begin he pulls away from you. "Daddy wha-" you begin but he cuts you off. "Nah baby you got a wait a minute now because you wan' be a bad girl and.not listen to me when I tell ya to sit still." He says. "Daddy p-please I was so close, I'm sorry I'll sit still please! J-just let me cum please!" You beg. "Aww poor baby wana cum huh?" He taunts as he begins to rub your clit with his middle finger slowly.

You wince from the stimulation and try your best not to move your hips around. "Your pussy is just so pretty baby I could eat it all damn day if I could, no man will ever have this." He growls. You whimper in response as his mouth meets your pussy again but this time hes alot faster and rougher with his movements.

His tounge circles your clit before gently biting it and flicking it with his tounge. "Oh E-Elvis fuck! J-just like that oh my god please don't stop..!" You frantically beg chasing that much needed high he's giving you. He sticks his fingers in you and starts pumping them in and out at a fast pace and curling them making you shudder and gasp for air.

"You wanna cum? Come on y/n. Cum all over my fingers baby you've done so good for me. Your such a good girl .. that's it ." He groans as your back begins to arch and your hand finds your breast before you begin to pinch and pull at your sensitive nipple being desperate to cum and be such a good girl just for him.

He continues his movements with his fingers and groans directly on your clit sending shockwaves over pleasure through your veins as you cry out his name. Unknown to you, you squirted all over his face. When you looked down at him you see him silently chuckling to himself as he looks up at you smirking.

"Your pussy is just so good baby, so damn good." He says as he licks your juices off his fingers.

So damn good.

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Guys I know this isn't good and probably makes no sense but I'm running off no sleep since last night and right now and it's currently 1:46 am and I'm dying and very horny to say the least. Anyway thank you all so much for reading and tell me how you felt about this fic!!

#elvis presley #elvis presley smut #elvis smut #smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fans #elvisaaronpresley #elvis fic

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dreamingofep · 3 months ago

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Sinned Awakening Reimagined: pt. 6🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Elvis is fighting his need for blood, making him weaker by the day. Then you walk into his life, making you the perfect target for his next meal. But an unknown force is making this more difficult than he expected... [Elvis' Perspective]

TW: Cussing, SMUT

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm excited to post this part! We're starting off with some smut. You. Have. Been. Warned. 🤭 I'm going to write a few more chapters for this soooo please enjoy this next part!

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! Hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

🩸

He undresses you slowly, taking his time to touch every inch of you. You shiver underneath his touch, barely breathing normally as his fingertips tease. You pull him in by his hips and get him in between your legs. Your hands on him felt like heaven and made him realize how much he’s missed you.

You had on some simple black, satin pajamas and he couldn’t wait to feel your warm skin underneath them. His hands caress your breasts and you arch into his touch. He liked it when you did that, the way your body reacted to him touching you was so attractive. He lays you down on the bed and covers your neck in warm, sloppy kisses. Working his way down, his mouth finds your breasts and your sensitive nipples. He wraps his lips around your hardened bud and sucks on you, savoring the closeness of you.

Your torso gets the same treatment, kissing every inch of you until your skin is covered in his love. He pauses when he gets to your pants. Your eyes flash at him, your chest heaving in anticipation. His hands rub up your legs and tease at your core. You whine and look at him needy. His two fingers rub slow circles at your entrance. Your hips buck up into his hand and cry for more.

He wanted to keep you like this. Needy and wet. He could feel the wetness pooling in your panties and the heat coming from between your legs. He loved getting you like this. It was his new favorite thing to do. All he wanted to do was find new ways to have you fall apart. His cock was hard down his thigh and pulsating watching you writhe underneath him. He finally pulls down your pants with your panties and looks at your naked body.

You were perfect. Everything about you was flawless and you weren’t even immortal. God just looking at you made him want to ravage you. He wanted to pin your hands above your head and fill that tight little pussy. He wanted that so much. He puts his fingers back on your sopping folds and teases you some more. You moan at his touch and that’s like music to his ears. He wants to be back inside you so bad, he’s trying to be patient and slow tonight but it’s difficult.

He stuffs his two fingers inside your wet entrance and you look up at him in shock.

“Fuck, Elvis,” you cry out, letting your eyes squeeze shut.

“Just wanted to feel if you were ready for me,” he teases, pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly. Your wet walls hugged him tightly and knew you were going to feel even better around his cock. He had never had anyone like you. You liked being with him, connected in the most intimate of ways. Something about the way your body worked with his made it so obsessional to keep having you over and over and over again.

He twists his fingers deep inside you before quickly pulling them out, leaving you breathless. He wanted you now. He was dying for your touch. Pulling down his slacks quickly, he gets on the bed with you, laying down with the pillows underneath his back. Your eyes wandered his naked body too. He liked how he could see you practically drooling over him. Especially when your eyes lingered on his hard length.

He starts to unbutton his shirt and lets it fall open at his sides, “Come here baby,” he tempts.

You crawl over to him and straddle his hips. His hands briefly rub your thighs and up to your torso. You shiver over his touch and look at him timidly, waiting to see what he wants from you. He pushes his length up to where it is lying on his lower stomach and looks up at you devilishly.

“I want you to grind on it, nice and slow,” he instructs. You sigh softly, looking at him like you’re drunk. He pulls you in by your hips and sets you down at the base of his cock. He helps guide you by moving your hips back and forth on his length, spreading your arousal along his shaft. You moan pleased, loving the feeling of him like this. He watches as pleasure builds inside you and your face shows it. Your pussy softly squelches as you roll your hips back and forth on him. You place your hands on his chest and let your instincts take over, chasing the pleasurable high you’re on.

He could watch you get off like this forever. He loved how you were so unsure of what to do at first but after a while, you knew exactly how to move. His hands find your breasts and squeeze them in his hands, building more pleasure inside you. You gasp at the sensitivity your body feels when his hands are on you. He loved having you on him like this. It felt good to have your blazing heat on him and hear your heart pound away.

“So good baby. You like this?” He asks you.

You nod your head quickly, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Yes, oh God yes. You feel so good,” you cry. Your legs begin to shake and your breathing becomes even more labored. It brings a smirk to his face. He hasn’t even gotten to be inside of you but you were ready to cum. His fingers rub circles on your hardened nipples and send bolts of pleasure through you. You cry out his name loudly and grind faster on him, trying to get to your release.

“Come on baby, let me see you cum again,” he says gruffly.

You nod your head at him and cry loudly. Your body shudders and you gasp for breath. He can feel your core flutter around nothing but you still feel good. Your fingers scrape against his chest and let your head fall back as you keep grinding on him. He bites his lip as he takes in this view he has of you. You were so flawless and he never wanted to let you go. He slowly starts to lift your hips off of him. He wanted more of you. It was almost unbearable to wait any longer.

You open your eyes back and look at Elvis. He has you hover over his length and your hands squeeze at his forearms. He locks eyes with you and pushes his hips up slightly for you to feel the tip of him press against your entrance. You press your lips together and make a satisfied moan. He wanted you to move and ride him the way you wanted to. There would be plenty of time for him to have you the way he wanted to. He just wanted to watch you fuck him tonight.

“I want you,” he groans, “Fuck me,” he says gruffly.

You groan at his request and touch his length, keeping it upright and lined up to your entrance. You slowly sink down on him and gasp, his cock slowly stretching you around him. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed together and you bit your bottom lip. You were quite the scene. Lust and temptation dripped off of you and he could not believe you wanted him like this. No one wanted him like this. For you to admit that you wanted him and how much you liked the idea of being his was too much to comprehend.

You slowly thrust up and down on him, taking your time to adjust around his length and groan loudly. Your eyes stayed closed as pleasure seared through you with every motion. He felt the same pleasure radiate all over his body too.

“Just like that baby, you feel so good,” He groans. Your core squeezes slightly when you hear him praise you like this.

Oh, she likes it when I talk to her.. when I praise her…

He had never thought he'd experienced this with you to where his words so easily turned you on. He wanted to see how much further he could go with you. Did you want more praise? Did you want him to talk you through it? Did you like it if he talked to you a little dirty? Oh, there was so much he needed to uncover with you. He reminds himself to be patient, there will be plenty of time to do all of that with you. One thing at a time.

“Yes honey, take more of me,” he tells you.

You look down at him with begging eyes and take a shaky breath. You hesitate for a bit, not confident in yourself to do this with him he thinks. He smirks at you, liking to see this shy, bashful side of you.

“What’s wrong honey?” He asks you. You move slowly and sigh as you look at him.

“Nothing, I just want this to be good for you,” you admit nervously.

“Trust me, baby, I’m loving all of this. You’re doing sucha good job,” he praises. Your heart gallops at that last part and he loves it.

He lifts his hips up slightly to bury his cock deeper inside of you and he can’t help but groan at how damn good it feels to be inside you. You moan at the feeling of him filling you more and gasp in shock. Your core tightens and then relaxes around him as you get used to him moving inside of you. You move with him and he can’t get over the feeling of how wet he’s made you. He keeps his hands on your hips and keeps thrusting in and out of you, putting more of his cock inside of you.

“Oh God,” you cry, gasping for breath.

“You feel so good baby,” he groans. Your hips begin to move faster and he groans heavily. He watched through heavy, lust-filled eyes how you are loving this. His hands roam along your back and loves the feeling of how soft your skin is. He pulls your upper body down towards his chest and grabs ahold of your face. His lips crash into yours and you both give wet, sloppy, passionate kisses to each other. You moaned and whined as his needy lips devoured yours with an intensity he’d never experienced before.

You slowly sit back up and place your hands on his chest again. You grind yourself at the base of his cock and cry out his name. He groans at the feeling of your taut walls and loses himself just at the sight of you. Oh, he was in trouble. He never wanted you to leave him. He was spoiled by your presence, by your blood, and by your body. You were all he ever wanted from here on out. He caught the most delicious meal and wanted to keep you tied to his web forever. To feed on you, to make love to you, he wanted it all from you.

He watches how your breasts bounce softly as you ride him harder. God, you looked perfect. You moan his name more as your release keeps building inside of you.

“Elvis oh my-,” you stutter when you feel his hips meet yours at every thrust. He groans and bites his lip when he looks at your blissful face.

He was so fixated on your pleasure that nothing else mattered at this moment. All he knew was you were all his. He wanted it to be true more than anything. And it seemed you liked that very idea.

“I know honey, I know. You like fucking me like this hmm?” He asks you as he snaps his hips into you firmly. You gasp out and cover your mouth with your hand. You couldn’t move or speak, all of this was too much for you. He places his hands back on your hips and squeezes them slightly to make you look back at him.

“Yes or no honey? Do you like fucking me?” He asks deviously.

You slowly drop your hand from your mouth and nod your head at him.

“Yes, I shouldn’t, but I love it,” you breathe.

He hums pleased, liking your admission but doesn’t want you to doubt your feelings.

“You don’t need to feel bad about it baby. Let me keep you satisfied,” he sighs as he pushes his hips up into you again. Your face makes an expression that you’ve never made before. He must have hit a sensitive part inside you that made you look like you were about to cum if he kept moving like that. You groan helplessly and hold onto his shoulders tightly. He moves again and hits that soft spot inside you.

“Fuck,” you yelp and scratch at his arms.

One last snap of his hips and it’s all over, your eyes close and you cry out his name again. Your walls squeeze him hard, milking him over and over and he can’t help but groan with you. Your hips grind faster on the base of his cock, his soft pubes rubbing on your clit as you continue to chase the high he’s giving you. He loved watching you like this. He loved he could be the one making you feel so euphoric.

Your body was exhausted and he had to be the one moving now. But he couldn’t hold on any longer, he needed to finish too. He wanted to cum inside you, making you all his. It was sinful and profane, he knew it, but it didn’t stop him from wanting it. Everything about you was sinful. Everything about you was pure lust to him. The way you looked, the way you sounded, everything drew him into you. You were meant for him. In some shape or form, whether it be as a human or a vampire, you were meant for him.

“God baby, keep moving. Tell me you’re mine, tell me,” he pleads as he fucks you harder. You groan and your core flutters, staying silent after his request. He squeezes your hips again and makes sure you’re looking into his eyes.

“Baby please, tell me you’re mine,” he groans.

You hold onto him tightly, “y-yes, yes I’m yours,” you cry.

He lets his head fall back and he cusses under his breath as he lets himself go. His cock twitches deep inside you, over and over again. He cums hard and fast, holding onto you as if you’re going to fly away from him. You loudly groan when you feel him fill you with his release. He looks at your face and sees how overcome you are with everything you two have done so far. It felt so good to be inside you like this. He had never felt so satisfied. He slows his pace and pulls you onto his chest. He wanted to feel your racing heartbeat against his. Once your skin touches him, he groans pleased again. God, you were perfect, everything about you was perfect for him.

The sound of him slowly thrusting in and out of you made his eyes roll back with the wet, sloppy sounds that were coming out of you.

“God baby, so fucking wet for me,” he groans in your ear. You whimper in agony by his words and your body trembles on top of him, spent and satisfied. You weakly moan in agreement and kiss his neck. He doesn’t think you realize what that does to him. It ignites a fire deep within him to have you bite there. He wanted to have you feed off of him one day, right in that spot while his cock is buried inside of you.

He snaps himself out of that delusion, it wasn’t the time for that. Maybe one day, but not today. He quickly picks you off of him and pins you to the bed, covering you with kisses and grumbling to himself how good you smell. Your hair was a mess and your face was flushed, so distractingly beautiful as you lay there.

“Have you had enough?” He teases.

“I just-, I just need to catch my breath,” you pant.

He chuckles at you, shaking his head slightly, “Mhmm, well I guess I’ll do the rest of the work then,” he teases, nipping and kissing at your neck.

He let you sleep. He found it so peaceful when you slept and he could watch over you. You were content sleeping next to Elvis as your hand rested on his stomach. He kept you up for hours, doing the most inexplicable things to you and finding out you loved them all. He made you cum over and over again, his name slipping past your lips every time he would fuck you just right. Your body was tired and he had to let you rest. He already planned on waking you up with kisses and maybe a little bit of teasing.

The sun started to shine through the curtains. Another day hopefully to be spent with you. He hoped you would come back to the hotel with him and try to start over. It was going to be difficult all the time to control his thirst around you, but he had to try. He couldn’t let the monster win, not now, not ever.

You started to rustle and curl yourself closer to him. It made his heart leap out of his chest with the things you instinctively do. Your eyes flutter open and sigh when you feel him next to you. You stretch out your legs and groggily whimper.

“Hi honey,” he coos, running his hands through your hair.

“Hi, what time izit,” you mumble.

He hums at your sleepy disposition. He glances over at the clock on the nightstand behind you and sees it's ten after seven.

“7:10, go back to sleep. Unless you don’t want to,” he quips cheekily.

You instantly pop up and scramble out of bed frantically. You try to find your clothes on the floor but can’t find where he tossed them earlier.

“You need to go,” you say panicked.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks confused.

“My fiancé is about to get home from work any minute now. You need to go,” you snap.

He wasn’t worried about that, he was just another mortal man.

“Honey, I can compel him if he sees me. You’re the only one I can’t compel,” he teases you, getting out of bed.

You were too frazzled to think clearly and weren’t listening to a word he was saying.

“No, no please go. I can’t have you here. Please just go out the back,” you say worried, handing him his discarded clothes. You shove them at his chest, trying to get him out of here.

“No honey please, come with me. I want to spend more time with you,” he pleads.

“Later, I just need you to go now,” you tell him.

He hears a car park in front of the building and silently fumes that another man is going to be in here with you. He grabs your hand, trying to pull your focus onto him again.

“Please, come over tonight then, after my show. Please, baby, I want you with me,” he pleads.

You sigh and look up at him weakly, “okay, I’ll be there after your show,” you tell him. That brings a smile to his face and places a kiss on your lips. He quickly puts on his pants and you shove him out the bedroom door.

“Hurry, just go out the back window,” you whisper as he hears the lock on the door turn.

He rushes out and opens the back window, quickly jumping down to the ground level. He freezes for a second, picking up a scent. It was a vampire’s. He didn’t recognize whose it was and it made him nervous. He hoped whoever it was wasn’t going into your apartment. There were many vampires in the area, he reminded himself, it could have just been someone passing by. He tried to shake his worries, he was being irrational.

Shit, his keys were still in your bedroom somewhere. They must have fallen out of his pocket at some point. At least he has a reason to come back, he thinks slyly. He ran back to the hotel in a flash but he he couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t have left you. You were too far away for his liking but he would have to wait to see you tonight after his shows.

Tagging:

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy_

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11@that-hotdog.

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs @sloppiest-of-jos

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis imagine #vampire elvis #elvis smut #elvis presely smut #sinned awakening #70s elvis

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babyfriendlytrading · 3 months ago

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Experience Hands-Free Pumping with Elvie Pump

Discover the freedom and convenience of the Elvie Pump, designed to fit seamlessly into your busy lifestyle. This hands-free, wearable breast pump allows you to pump discreetly without being tied down by wires or bulky equipment. Quiet, lightweight, and easy to use, the Elvie Pump is a revolutionary solution for modern moms who need flexibility and comfort while breastfeeding. Feel free to contact us.

#elvie breast pump #elvie curve #elvie double electric #artists on tumblr #elvie curve pump

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motherlyease1 · 1 year ago

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Electric Breast Pumps: Reasons They Can Provide You Convenience.

If you are reading this, that means you are seeking out the best electric pump. Therefore, we are here to tell you about the Elvie breast pump from Motherly Ease.

#Elvie breast pump

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vintagepresley · 2 years ago

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The Sweet Taste of Relief

Pairing: Big Daddy Elvis x Reader

Word Count: 2,010 words

Warnings: 18+ SMUT Pregnancy kink, breastfeeding kink, tiny bit of dirty talking, little sprinkle of a mommy kink, oral (m receiving), little bit of fluff.

Author's Notes: I don't know I just felt like writing something dirty tonight. So, thank you to the bestie who requested this dirty little fic. I enjoyed writing it! Not sure who to tag in this. So yeah.

You stood in front of the full body mirror running your hands over your dress and resting them against your belly as you continued to stare because it seemed as if your belly had grown even more. You gently rubbed your hands against your swollen bump, smiling to yourself when you felt the baby moving. You and Elvis had been together for nearly ten years, the two of you decided to wait to have children because of his career and him being gone so much. But you felt like it was never going to happen and you weren’t getting any younger, so you told Elvis you wanted to start trying for a baby. He knew it was something you really wanted and so did he and after months of trying you finally had gotten what you wanted. You were six months pregnant and between the highs and lows of pregnancy you couldn’t have been happier. Elvis was already being the best daddy and spoiling the little life inside of you and always singing to your belly as well as taking care of you and getting you whatever you needed. He wouldn’t let you do anything without him. As your belly got bigger so did everything else like your hips, ass and breasts. It wasn’t any secret that Elvis had noticed the change in your body and constantly made comments about how he loved the way you looked, especially your breasts. He couldn’t keep his eyes off them and sometimes you wore low cut tops just to tease him a bit and it always drove him wild.

As the two of you sat in bed Elvis watched his favorite shows and you flipped through one of your maternity magazines marking things that you felt you may need for the baby. You started to feel a bit of discomfort in your breasts and you placed one of your hands against your right breast and let out a soft groan feeling how tender it all was. Elvis heard your groan and glanced over at you with his eyebrows raised and glanced down to see you squeezing your breasts with your hand and he captured his lip between his teeth before he cleared his throat. “Everythin’ okay, honey?” Elvis asked as he continued to watch you feel up your swollen breasts. You looked over at him and smiled a bit as you nodded.

“Mhm..” you mumbled softly not wanting to tell him what’s wrong.

You didn’t even think to buy a pump because you had no idea that you’d be producing milk so soon. Just the smallest movement had you groaning in pain and in desperate need of some relief. It was pretty obvious to Elvis that things were not okay and he shut the television off and turned to you and he stared back down at your breasts that were completely engorged. He licked over his lips at the delightful sight as he figured out just what you needed when he began to notice the wet stains forming on your nightgown because your nipples had begun to leak.

Elvis’ eyes widened at the sight and this only turned him on. You let out a soft whimper at the feeling of the warm milk leaking from your nipples and providing a small amount of relief. Suddenly Elvis had an idea. This had been an idea he had for quite some time as he began to notice your growing breasts and knowing milk would soon follow. He wasn’t sure how’d you take the request. But he had been curious about how your milk tasted and had the strong urge to latch onto one of your nipples. “Uh, baby, I think I know how I can help you..” Elvis hummed. You raised an eyebrow at his words, curious as to how he could help.

“H-How?” you said softly as another groan left your lips.

“Well.. Uh.. How’d you feel about me nursing from you? Whenever you need it, I’d do it. I-I think it would be good for both of us.” Elvis replied.

You furrowed your brow at his suggestion. You weren’t sure how to respond to that or even how you felt about the thought of him nursing from you. But the more you thought about the more discomfort you felt as your nightgown became stained from your milk. You didn’t seem to have any other choice and you weren’t naive. You noticed the look of excitement on his face from the very sight of your milk dripping from you and ruining your clothes. “I-I guess that would be okay. It may actually help a lot..” you responded with a small smile.

Elvis’ face lit up at your answer and he smiled as he sat up. “Sit back, baby.” he hummed as he grabbed a few pillows to rest behind you and get you comfortable. You did as he asked and sat back comfortably against the pillows. “Pull your nightgown down, honey.” he uttered. You nodded at his words and slowly slipped the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders and then you tugged the front of your gown down revealing your leaking engorged breasts to him. He captured his bottom lip between his teeth at the beautiful sight of the droplets of milk that leaked from your hard nipples. Elvis reached for another pillow and he laid it across your lap as he made himself comfortable against the pillow and he glanced up at you with a smile and you smiled back at him, running your fingers through his hair as you took a deep breath. Elvis licked the milk that dripped onto his lips and he was taken by surprise just how sweet and warm it was. You watched as he parted his lips and wrapped them around your left nipple. You let out a low groan from the small pain that followed as he latched onto your nipple and he slowly began to suck. The warm milk filled his mouth and he gulped it down, he couldn’t get over the sweet taste of it and he tightened his mouth around your nipple as he sucked faster.

You let out a soft sigh of relief as the pressure subsided and you continued to run your fingers through his hair. Elvis glanced up at you seeing the satisfying look on your face. It was hard to hide just how much he was enjoying this. He reached over to fondle your other breast that was still leaking small droplets of milk over me and he pinched your nipple and watched as the milk squirted out and you groaned loudly. “Elvis!” you squealed. He pulled away and glanced up at you, chuckling softly.

“How’s my baby feelin’?” Elvis hummed.

“Much better, honey.” you said with a smile.

Elvis grinned at your words. “Mm, there’s still so much left..” he hummed as he latched onto your other leaking nipple sucked even harder this time which caused a slight moan to escape you as your fingers tangled in his hair. He was practically drunk off the taste of your milk that he wanted more. He continued to suckle at your breast hungrily and you began to notice the bulge forming in his pants. You bit your lip for a moment seeing how hard he’d gotten from this. You continued to brush your hand through his dark hair as your other hand slid beneath his pajama bottoms.

“Let me give you some relief, baby..” you cooed.

He nodded at your words and he groaned softly against your breast as he felt your delicate hand brush against his hard cock and you wrapped your fingers around his large member and slowly began to pump his cock in your hand and you felt him playfully bite at your nipple and you let out another soft moan as he gulped your milk down, some of it spilling from the corners of his mouth as he groaned louder feeling your hand tighten around his cock and stroking him faster. You giggled softly as an idea came to your head. “You’re such a good boy not wasting a drop of mommy’s milk and letting her milk you. I promise not to waste a single drop of what you give me..” you whispered to him. His eyes widened at your words, he certainly wasn’t expecting that and it only furthered his arousal. You let out a soft whine as he drank you dry and he released your nipple from his mouth and licked up the excess milk that leaked from your nipples. He stared up at you soft moans leaving him as he glanced down to see your hand pumping his cock. You sat up against the bed and patted his side of the bed.

“Come lay down for me, baby.” you hummed as you pulled your hand out of his pants. He had a slight pout on his lips. “Shh, mommy’s gonna reward you for making her feel better.” you said softly. He grinned at your words and he sat up and laid beside you and then you fixed your top and moved between his legs, tugging his pajama pants down to reveal his hard cock that sprang out and lightly slapped against his stomach. You licked your lips and grasped his cock once again in your hand and you parted your lips, stuck your tongue out and swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and you could feel him twitching against your mouth and you let out a soft, “Mmm” as you tasted his precum on your tongue and you continued to lick every last drop before guiding his cock into your warm mouth and you tilted his head back against the pillows and he let out the loudest moan feeling your mouth wrapped firmly around him and you slowly took him deep into your mouth until the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged softly against him as you began to bob your head sucking his cock nice and slow as you took him deep each time and gagging.

“F-Fuck.. Baby.. Y-You’re gonna make me cum..” he mumbled between his moans and his eyes rolled back as he reached down to grab a handful of your hair. Your left hand gripped onto his right thigh as you took him deep and swallowed his cock down as you gagged and choked around him and you felt him tugging at your hair now as his breathing grew heavy and his body twitched as he moaned loudly when he reached his orgasm and the moment he did you felt his warm cum glide down your throat and you slowly pulled him out of your mouth gagging softly as you did, but as promised making sure you didn’t waste a drop of his cum as you swallowed it all and even licked up the bit that was left behind on his cock. “Goddamn, baby.” he grunted.

“Told ya I wouldn’t waste not one drop!” you said as you glanced up at him and giggled. You felt his strong hands grab you and pull you up to him and you laid comfortably on top of him, kissing him deeply. He ran his hands along your wide hips until they were over your ass and he gave it a tight squeeze. He loved you being pregnant there was so much more of you to love.

You pulled back from the kiss but only enough that your lips were lingering over one another and you brushed your hand gently against his cheek. “I’ll feed you anytime you’d like, my love.” you whispered to him. He smiled at your words, stealing another kiss from your soft lips.

“You’ll have me completely infatuated with your milk.” Elvis mumbled.

“Mm, is that so? Maybe next time you’ll share a taste with me.” you giggled before kissing him once again and he nodded at your words as he embraced you tighter and he kissed you passionately. This idea of his had some benefits to it.

@genetakovicluvr

#elvis presley #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #requested #big daddy #big daddy elvis

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sissylittlefeather · 4 months ago

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Kinktober Day 13: Military Uniform

Yes, Sir

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, cussing, kissing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word Count: ~800

Kinktober Masterlist

In his bedroom in Bad Nauheim, Elvis wraps his arm around you and pulls you in close to him, your back against his front, and thanks God that it's Saturday. He doesn't want to open his eyes and look at the clock, but he thinks it must be close to noon. He was up late with you, tumbling around naked and sweating under the covers until he came twice and you came more than he thought was possible. You sigh and wiggle your hips against his morning erection. Of course you're both still naked, so he can feel your ass on him. He runs his hand up your front to squeeze one of your breasts and you whimper, obviously awake and in the same mood he is. You slide out of bed, though and head to the bathroom. When you come back, he has his eyes open and watches you walk towards him.

“Good morning, sergeant.” You giggle. He had just been promoted and you were his celebration.

“Mmm please just call me Elvis.”

“No, I have to address you properly. It's the rules.” You pick up his hat and plop it on your head and then wrap his jacket around your naked body. His eyes widen at the sight of you in the pieces of his uniform. You do a little fake salute and when you do it lifts the jacket just enough for him to almost see your pussy peeking out from it. He moans softly and palms his dick under the covers.

“Baby, you look damn good. You look like a pinup.” You giggle and turn around, posing for him so that the bottom of your ass is just visible. That's just about more than he can handle. “C’mere.”

He reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you towards him in the bed. You uncover him to reveal his rock-hard cock in his hand.

“Oh no. Does my commanding officer need tending to?” He knows that's not how military ranks work, but you don't and it's hot, so he lets you continue in this line of thought.

“Yeah, baby. I need you to get over here and take care of this for me.” You salute him again and climb onto him, straddling his hips. He moans as you sink down onto him, your pussy squeezing him as you adjust. “Fuck, baby. That's good.”

“Yeah? You like it?” You coo. He likes how much you talk while you're fucking him.

“I do, baby. I love it. You like this cock?”

“Mmm yes, it's so good.” He groans as you bounce and roll on him and then reaches up to push his jacket off of your shoulders, revealing your naked body. You move to take the hat off too, but he stops you.

“No, leave the hat.” You giggle and put it back on.

“Yes, sir!” Both of his hands go to your breasts and he pinches your nipples between his fingers. You whimper and bite your bottom lip, feeling an orgasm begin to gather in your hips. He feels your walls flutter and licks his thumb, rubbing it on your clit as you move on him. “Mmm yeah, that's good, sir, just like that.”

You didn't mean to call him ‘sir’, but he's surprised to find he really likes it. He rubs you a little harder with his thumb and feels your clit harden as your climax approaches.

“Come on, baby. Cum for your commanding officer.”

“Y-yes… sir…” You moan loudly as your release hits you and sends wave after wave of ecstatic pleasure rolling through you. “You close, sir?”

“Mm, yeah baby. God it's good.” You lift your hips and he fucks you hard from underneath, pulling your lips to his in a deep kiss. “Gonna cum, baby.”

He rolls you onto your back and pulls out at the last second, shooting ropes of cum onto your stomach as he pumps himself weakly. He lays on the bed next to you and you use the towel from last night to clean yourself off and then lay your chin on his chest. He grabs his hat and stuffs it back on your head.

“You look better in that than I do.” He chuckles.

“Nah, not possible.”

“You like the uniform?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Why do you think I slept with you?”

“Because I'm Elvis Presley?”

“Who's that?” You giggle and kiss his chest as he laughs with you. “No, I like the uniform.”

“Maybe I should put it back on then?”

“Just the hat. It's your turn to be on top.”

“Yes ma'am.”

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

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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aconflagrationofmyown · 2 years ago

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~ Stitch ~

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Warnings: 18+ dealing with the trend (and still sometimes practiced) vaginal modification postpartum of stitching a woman’s vagina tighter than natural, ostensibly for the husband’s pleasure but achieving nothing more than tightening the entrance alone, causing pain and complications to the woman’s natural ability to expand and retract when necessary. The smut and descriptions may give some of you the heebie-jeebies, you have been warned. On the upside we have fluff and babies and Elaine being a boss and pussy inspections, more lactation kink, reunion sex and Elvis deep diving into sup-space which neither of these ill informed babies have any clue about. 🥂

Summary: after her trip to Germany and the arduous treck through the airport, Elvis and Elaine settle down for their first evening reunited

“Traitor,” Elvis growls at the headboard as the heated, writhing kiss he shares with his wife causes the damn thing to bonk obnoxiously against the wall like a damn tattle tell.

He and Elaine have stopped and started, stopped and started this, their first attempt at intimacy since she landed today in Germany, about five times already. Elvis has begun to think maybe they should play the old married couple and just roll over and sleep, hope for better things in the coming days. The knowledge that they won’t be having a house to themselves for at least a couple weeks, that their hosts–a superior officer and his kindly wife–will be putting them up until Elvis can find a house of his own with a gate and security close enough to base to make him feel confident in putting his family there makes him want to punch something. It really is generous of them–the officer and his wife–to open their home and by god he’s glad he doesn't have to sleep in barracks away from Elaine, but laying in a plush bed with his long-missed wife needy and ready beneath him and only communal walls and a creaky bed keeping him from his duty… it’s maddening.

“W-we could–against,” Elaine is trying to get out a contingency plan in between kisses, trying to harness her logistic prowess again and again but forgetting her train of thought each time she presses her lips against his. She’s missed him, didn’t even realize how much, but holding him and being held and kissing like it’s the only thing that’ll keep them alive, it’s got her yearning and happy and it’s shockingly natural. Watching him defend her earlier, nearly feral in protectiveness, has her warmed and thrumming. She thinks he may have had the right idea, married life with kids brings out a harmony between them she never saw before he gave her this.

She could grow to love this man, truly love him, not just be enamored. She thinks she’s in danger of it now with the way he can’t help but shower her in praise even as he jerks and pumps against her as they kiss. But he’s been so patient and so insistent that they do this properly, that he must ascertain that she is all healed up enough to take him. He’s decreed an inspection is necessary first but can’t stop kissing her long enough to look at the goods.

He’s boyish in that way, can’t decide where he wants to be. Compact as his wife is, her beauty is still spread out enough he worries he’ll miss something in her eyes when kissing her breasts or something with her gorgeous calves if he’s face first between her thighs. It frustrates and soothes him all at once, being stretched atop her, it makes him huff and growl and writhe.

The headboard bonks traitorously again.

He pulls away, glaring at it before looking over at the crib holding the sleeping babies. It’s been quite a day. First hauling ass with no notice from base to the airport, that arduous trek through the press to their ride, hauling ass back to Frankfurt with his family, introducing Elaine and the babies to every fellow private who managed to snag a leave and be at his officer’s house when he brought her back, dinner and games and small talk while sat in wet pants, pandemonium in trying to situate rooms, and then, then finally being alone. Just them. His little family. Alone to haul bags around, change diapers and nurse again, comfort jet lagged infants, strip out of his uniform, brush his teeth and collapse.

It wasn’t really the twins’ fault it took so long to settle them, they fed off the hectic atmosphere and Elvis may have been at fault for being unable to put them down for longer than a minute at a time, always picking one or both back up to study them and babble to them and kiss their fuzzy heads. Being a father required a lotta luggage and a lotta energy and once his babies had fallen asleep he laid on the bed inert beside Elaine, bathed in yellow lamplight beneath a whirring fan, exhausted but never happier.

She had turned her head to him sleepily, a little shy again and whispered softly,

“Hey you.”

“Hey you,” he had grinned and kissed her nose.

It made her laugh. He liked making his wife laugh so he kissed her again, then she kissed him. They kissed each other. The headboard banged against the wall, the slats creaked and through the wall he heard the unmistakable shuffle of their hosts settling into their respective twin beds. Though, by the resuming silence, it would seem that the worthy couple had chosen to read tonight instead of make starving, violent love to each other after three months of separation.

Elvis then groaned and wove his hand deeper into Elaine’s hair, tilting her just right and trying his damndest to devour her. He had shifted up for leverage and–BONK.

“Goddamn it!” he whines this time.

“Wall, the wall!” Elaine gasps out her solution before an insistent and wet tongue can stifle her again, “We could, ya know…against the other wall.”

“You wanna move the bed?” he asks, “Gonna make a whole lotta noise, gonna wake the babies and besides, their eldest daughter is in that room,” and he points at the opposite wall in question. In the dim his long lashes cast a dramatic shadow against his cheekbones as he blinks in confusion down at her.

“I meant just, ya know, against it,” she pants below him, lips puffy and eyes dark in the feeble lamp light. “You could take me against it. Standing, like you did that time…”

It’s funny, two babies made, married nearly a year, and yet there’s a shyness remaining in the sheer mention of that incident in the Fort Hood lavatory. He feels himself twitching at the memory and worries he might have another accident at this rate.

“Ok,” he whispers, suddenly a little shy too, and pulls away, goosebumps forming on his bare arms without the heat of her embrace. “Wanna, wanna inspect ya first, though.” He lays down the law despite looking rather unimposing standing there in tented boxer briefs and ruffled hair.

“No really, Elvis, I’m ready,” she insists, but he gently grabs her by the ankles and hauls her playfully around in the bed until she’s facing the lamp and its bedside table, the silky fabric of her night slip riding up her thighs.

“I’ll be the judge of that, lil mama,” he gives her an admonishing look and she grows meek and pink again and bites her lip like she did on their wedding night.

He hits his knees and peppers kisses up her calves, hauling her by the backs of her own knees to the edge of the mattress, hooking a leg over each shoulder. The feel of his bare back beneath her legs is homey and exciting all at once. The silk pooling between her thighs is quivering with each heavy breath she takes and he feels little tremors going through her, of excitement, he hopes. He kisses the baby soft skin right above her kneecap soothingly.

“You alright?” he asks, just to make sure.

“Yes, it’s just,” she pants and can’t seem to keep her eyes on him, like it overwhelms her when they lock eyes, his breathing so close to her throbbing heat, “it’s just, I-I’ve missed you,” she tells the blurry blades of the ceiling fan.

“Missed you too, so damn much,” he groans, pressing another kiss higher this time.

He takes a thumb and forefinger and grips the silky hem, he wafts the fabric up and the smell of her hits his nose, making his mouth dry out and then water uncontrollably. He wants to kiss and suck and slurp her up, but he’s got a job to do.

He left her in Memphis torn and stitched and raw from pushing his children out, it’s the least he can do to make sure his sweet little kitty is as patched up as she assures him it is.

Elvis Presley is neither a braggart, nor is he burdened with false modesty, it’s the God’s honest truth that he knows Elaine’s pussy, short as their marital bliss has been, better than the frets on his guitar. He thinks he’d know, just instinctively know, if something were amiss. But it’s a little hard to concentrate, to recall specifics of this pink oasis when she’s letting out little gasps of pleasure at his prodding touches and the sticky feel of her wetness clings to the pads of his fingers as he spreads her open. He’d wrung himself dry enough to the thought of her he almost feels like he’s rereading the bible after a long tour, spiritual transportation. She’s so wet down there, downright dripping for him, and that’s ever so pleasin, but there’s a tenseness to her folds as he drags his calloused fingertips below her entrance, where she tore, that he doesn’t like one bit. Maybe just skittish, but he isn’t satisfied with the dim lighting.

“Elvis, please please keep on, I’m goin mad up here,” she begs as he stops his little rubs and swivels to grab the lamp.

He yanks it off the nightstand, making a racket with the cord trialing and the lampshade toppling off and he doesn’t get why she freezes at the noise until remembers: they have babies. He crouches there between her thighs, bare bulb lamp in one hand, his other spreading her open as he awaits her verdict. After a minute of no rustling or whines from the crib she relaxes, her head falling back to the mattress again–all clear.

“Elvis, baby…” she sounds so needy it’ll drive him mad, and it comforts him some.

“Patience woman, patience,” he teases.

It’s different down there, somehow. She looks healed but it’s in a taut, stretched, angry pink sorta way he’s not sure he likes. Not sure he likes at all the way the flesh doesn’t give round her entrance like it oughta, like he taught it to. But she lets out a resounding moan at the breach of his thumb into her channel, and teased beyond her last vestiges of obedience, she rocks against his digit and he watches her suck him in, then spit him out wet and shiny in the stark lamplight. Over and over, deeper and deeper, humming happily as her slick starts to coat her taint and thighs in its excess. He adds another finger. She bucks up, taking him with a hiss.

“You been puttin’ your fingers up, like I told ya?” he doubts it a little, except he had heard the squelching proof of it over the phone.

As had the rest of the nation, he recalls with a scowl.

She mistakes it for displeasure aimed at her and is quick to swear, “Yes E, every night.”

“Good girl. And the coke bottle? How’d that go?” he inquires, finding it easier to abstain from sinking balls deep in her if he plays this like a role, pretends he’s not got any more business with her but examining her.

“It…burned a little,” she admits, tentative to give him any more information that might prolong her mulish husband crouching between her legs with a lamp stuck up in her business. “But it got better, as ya talked me through it, made sure to tilt my hips like you showed me, made it easier. Sorta felt like the first time all over again, honestly.” She admits the last bit softly, “And it got good, after the first bit of burn. Really baby, I’m all fine,” she insists, leaning up on her elbows to watch the way he contemplates her little house, blue eyes dark and earnest, his childish mouth ever so firm and burdened.

She wants to wipe that look away, she wants that gasp-inducing first thrust, she wants to feel him twitch and throb inside her again, she wants to watch him forget his manners and his mama’s teachings and take her like a savage, spewing worship from his mouth all the while.

She wants him. Some of this comes out verbally and he’s only a man, he’s persuaded. The lamp is clumsily put back in place and his lips, once headed for her own, dive between her legs, no longer able to hold out.

It’s clumsy, his slurping, sucking, nibbling attack down there, but that’s not to say it isn’t skilled. Elaine winds her hands into his army-cropped hair and hangs on, unabashedly chasing his nose and lips and tongue, smearing the evidence of how much she missed him all over his beautiful face. Kneeling as he is, and she laying sideways on the bed in her pursuit of his mouth, the headboard is not the culprit, rather her ever increasing moans and cries are, her lips bitten cruelly to try to stifle them but she can’t help it, it’s too good, he’s too good to her.

Her thighs crush his cheeks, puckering him up like his cousins enjoy doing to goad him, and he sucks and sucks, managing a finger fuck while he’s at it, and then there’s that gush and wail he knows so well as his wife releases onto his wicked tongue.

“That’s it, that’s it oh oh, just a little more I’ve, I’ve got a little more oh, oh baaaaby, oh god, just like tha–”

She’s wailing her pleas and she’s good to him, too. Sounding reverently awed but never shocked as the pleasure lights through her. She knows better than to be shocked by what reactions he can draw from her body, she finds him too capable to insult him by being surprised by any outdoing of himself he might do. He loves her for it, he’ll take the reverence, the trusting admiration that he thinks, hopes, prays might be love in its infancy.

She’s boneless and quaking when he pulls away, leaving one last longer smooch to her puffy little rosebud. Her thigh jerks in response.

She can taste herself in his mouth when he lays atop her again, kissing her soundly as he is somewhat sated by pleasing her but needier still, the throb begging to be relieved.

“Perfect, perfect woman,” he’s mumbling praises, or thanks to heaven for her, she’s not sure which.

She’s too busy running her hands along his back, up his sides, registering suddenly that the plush softness of his ribs is gone, lean, corded muscle in their stead.

“Where are my handles?” she demands, teasing but entirely in earnest, vigorously squeezing his boney sides for emphasis, then in outage she slides her way to his ass, kneading that firmed up muscle with begrudging acceptance, “Has the army taken my love handles, too? Good lord, what have they been feeding you, baby? Or have they not? I’ll make ya a midnight snack after this, I swear, I…oooh.”

Laughing into the crook of her neck he starts to hump her, his briefs beginning to stick and drag against her from the sloppy mess he made of her down there. She whines at the friction, the rough cotton against her freshly kissed petals and tugs the offending fabric down, over the swell of his backside, craning her neck to watch in apprecIation as his thighs ripple and jiggle to kick them off entirely.

If she were to be perfectly honest, Elaine thinks his butt does look magnificent. She might be forced to concede at gunpoint that it looks even better than it did when she first saw it on the wedding night and spent a delightful amount of time petting it, entirely unaware there was more to conjugal duties than kneading the swell of her beautiful groom’s flank. She pets it, for old times sake she tells herself, and it serves to bring him closer, his slick cock already gushing precum like a fountain and nudging at her like a thing possessed.

“Wall?” he pants, his voice starting to grow gruff in need.

“Yes, yes!” She hooks her heels around his hips and hangs on by his neck as he staggers upright, towards the opposite wall, managing not to stub a toe on the crib.

“I love you,” he swears into her gasping mouth as he grinds her against the wall, bumping her button with every upstroke.

“I love you,” she insists back, just as she had every phone call these last three months, separated by an ocean.

“Can ya–” he begs.

“Yeah.” She understands and reaches between them to line him up, excitement plain in her sparkling eyes.

That look of hers fires him up and he thrusts inside, gently and slowly as intended but almost forced to be so by the unrelenting ring of her entrance. It’s odd, it’s ungiving and tight and he’s missed her and she is warm and wet and tight and oh no–oh fuck, she looks like she’s in agony, her hands coming to slam down on his shoulders in a bid to push him away.

“Oh dear god,” she whimpers out and it’s a genuine plea for relief, no flicker of pleasure or curiosity anywhere on her precious face, just crumpled agony and he feels himself wilt slightly before he can even manage to pull out. She sobs as he manages it, every dragging inch of him feeling like sandpaper against her entrance. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry just let me try–” she sniffles, short staccato little sniffs of resolution, bravely trying to reach between them again.

“Woah, woah no, it’s ok, my love, it’s ok, oh god, shhh, shh,” he holds her against the wall as she trembles, little hiccups jerking her body from the lingering shock of that unexpected horridness. “That weren’t right, was it?” he observes, confused but mostly sick over that look of agony on her face. “Wasn’t right at all.”

“No, it wasn’t, but I–”

“Shhh,” he insists, pushing at the back of her pretty head till she lays her cheek down on his shoulder, allowing him to just soothe her for a minute, running his hands down her strong back and over the gorgeous globes of her ass, just swaying his hips to an inaudible tune, a gentle rocking against the wall.

Sideways he sways, never a thrust, never a motion that might spook her and he can feel her starting to relax again in his arms. She begins to pet him, his neck, his shoulders, his collarbones, his arms, his face. Casually, then with curious purpose, like she did their first night when he realized his mother knew more about what he needed in a wife than he ever suspected. For as he had laid there beneath that daisy fresh girl that was the newly minted Elaine Presley, she had petted and stroked his body, told him he was beautiful, showered him with praise that tumbled from untutored lips, oblivious that such things were often considered too feminine for a man to allow for himself to hear or enjoy. It had chained him to her for life, and she hadn’t even a notion of its potency.

His pretty little wife who’s not so fresh now but no less impressive, who’s petting him now and who had to do so very much more than he ever anticipated since marrying him. Now this… pain. They’re owed a break. They’re owed it.

“We’re gonna be ok, ya know that?” he whispers to her, it’s a mantra he’s told himself every night, “We’re gonna be ok, just gettin’ tested s’all, and we’ve got blessin’s by the dozen already, we’re not forsaken, jus’ a little roughed up. And I’m here now, and ain’t nothin in this world gonna separate us again.”

She pulls her head up from his shoulder, cheeks red from the violent reaction and then the pressure of his shoulder. It makes her eyes look a little puffy and young again, he finds he likes, can’t help but grin back as she grins at him, her hands scritching at the buzzed hairline at the back of his neck.

“I’ve missed you,” she informs him again, although this time there’s more there and he dutifully perks up to catch the undercurrent of meaning she seems to be lacing in those simple words. “I’ve missed the way you promise,” she says, leaning forward to brush his lips with her own, soft pecks and presses, “the way you remind me God’s on your side.”

“Our side, baby,” she’s got to understand, he’s got to make her understand this union right here was written in the book of life.

She uses her hold of his hair to tip his head back, his neck bowing and strained, he staggers a little from the wall, “Then who can be against us? Hmm?“ She recites while beginning to leverage herself from his shoulder into a grind along the front of him and that, maybe the scripture, maybe her earnestness, maybe her hunger–it does something for him, and he ends up staggering back into the bed. Making an awful racket as they both land heavily, panting and squirming, thumping the headboard against their hosts’ wall. She begins grinding herself furiously on his half mast cock and he lets her, encourages her, his hips meeting her part way and sliding himself perfectly through her folds again and again until she’s shaking apart above him for the second time, and his balls remind him they’ve been forced from the brink once already.

“Whew-eee!” she cheers in a hushed, shivering little celebration as her aftershocks recede and the lewd sound of her lubing up his cock with her pleasure slowly comes to a halt, along with her grinding. “Right, a pallet, is what I’m thinkin’,” she states, suddenly hopping off her perch with renewed vigor and seizing the quilts and beginning to tug them to the ground, arrested only by the lump of meat that is her husband’s blood-deprived brain and body. “Up up, this’ll help us keep it quiet,” she explains and clumsily, through a fog of watching Elaine traipse around in a silk nighty with her soaking, bare snatch hanging out quite prominently, he sees the light and complies, getting up. Manages to contribute and toss a single pillow onto the now neatly crafted pallet at the foot of the crib.

Oh god, he’s about to violate their mother right next to them. Oh hell, this was not part of the fantasy, somehow in his dreams, there were always children in her, but he hadn’t thought of what that would mean for making more with some outside her. Graceland, he assures himself, Graceland is big enough to hold the football team promised and for him to take her in plenty of abandoned little corners and nooks. It’s just this damn Army life and the shared room and, wait. Which one’s that? Goddamnit he doesn’t even know his own kids apart yet.

“Oh no ya don’t!” Elaine threatens, on her knees amongst the blankets already, objecting to the way little Elvis begins to droop again. She eyes his cock like she can glare it back into hardness and usefulness..

“I-I-I think one of ‘em’s lookin’ a’ me,” he shudders, less from the feel of her hot mouth now surrounding his cock and more from the idea that the image of this act is quite visible to his owl eyed infants through the slats of the crib.

Elaine pulls off with a wet pop, and unconcernedly peers through the slats at her babies, hand still working on him–against him, he thinks. “Oh Ella does that,” she explains fondly, “funny little thing sorta flutters her lashes in her sleep, forgets to close them all the way at times.”

Oh god, it’s his daughter. His poor, sweet, innocent daughter–is this how Mr. Phipps felt when Elvis took Elaine off his hands and carried her upstairs after the ceremony? Someone will one day come for Ella, and he’ll murder them, plain and simple. It’s decided. “S-so she’s asleep?” he begs.

“Dunno, try smiling at her, if she smiles back she’s awake, just drowsy.”

Elvis, perhaps through the strong fortification of his ancestor’s blood running through his veins or the few Hollywood acting lessons, manages to smile down at his baby girl, even as he hisses and jars the crib with his grip as Elaine swallows him whole again.

Ella smiles back.

“I-I-I can’t do this, oh god she’s watchin’!” but his knees are buckling, in existential crises and pleasure, as Elaine rubs and mouths at his balls.

A goddamn natural, that woman.

“There, that’s it,” Elaine coos to him as he falls into the cradle of her hips, “there we go.”

“Elaine, I–” he goes to look through the slats, now at ground level, but she places a hand on the side of his face like a horse blinder.

“Don’t look at the crib baby, please,” she cajoles, “They haven’t any idea what any of this is. But you do have a wife on your hands that’s missed you so much she’s resorted to puttin’ coke bottles up to ease the ache.”

She’s spittin’ straight facts and he tries to gather his energies, to focus on the fact Elaine is laying there beneath him, her soft thighs clamped around his hips as if he’ll run away, a breast right there beneath his cheek…he wonders if they’ve got milk in them again.

“M-maybe turn the lamp off?” he suggests, so very conscious of his progeny’s eyes on his ass.

“You're below eye level, Mopey,” she giggles, a patient eye roll accompanying it and his traitorous cock twitches at that, “So just, stay down, hmm? Besides, watchin’ your face is my favorite part!” she pleads with him, peppering his cheeks with persuasive kisses.

Yes, yes he recalls that it’s her favorite part. It was so unsettling that first night to be looked down upon with such marveling awe by a virgin girl riding his cock that he’d flipped her over and took his little bride from behind, like an animal, lying through gritted teeth that it was better for breeding that way. He likes to think he’s grown up a little since then. He thinks he at least ought to try.

“Alright,” he concedes and she’s a gracious victor, happily bringing him down to lay every inch of himself against her, the floor hard and unyielding beneath her back but the blankets cozy around them. “I don’t wanna hurt you again–” He brings up the obvious, hoping but unsure that her second orgasm may have loosened her up enough.

“It was just the angle, the angle was off,” she assures him, wriggling like an eel beneath him in her uniquely squirmy way of trying to ease her hunger, it’s adorable and he’s missed it an unbearable amount.

He grabs one of her arms to pin her still, taking himself in hand and dragging his tip through her utterly soaked folds. Her face looks so excited again, like a kid waiting for a present at Christmas–and it’s the fact he’s done this to her, turned the pretty and promising Miss Elaine into a hungry cock-wringer that has him collapsing onto her, into her, his puffy cockhead nudging into her with instinct and no finesse. Her little ring is so tight it burns his foreskin going in and he thrusts hard to get past it, to make that stupid burn stop and get himself tucked in where it’s warm and spongy and giving and fuuuuck, he’s missed her and–she just bit his shoulder to stifle her scream. It has the unfortunate effect of making him jerk deeper, despite his overwhelming sense that he shouldn’t, that he was right, that something about this isn’t ok. Something isn’t right at all.

“Don’t-don’t, don’t pull out.” She frantically halts his movements with a hand to his butt, forcing him to stay in as far as he’ll go and he thinks maybe he read her wrong, that it was a scream of pleasure she stifled, but there’s no mistaking her trembling rigidity and the wet tears he feels on his cheek.

“Baby, this ain't right,” he firmly declares, making to pull out.

“Oh for god’s sake please don’t move! Please, please I can’t bear you moving,” her voice is thick with suppressed anguish and, helpless, he stalls, obeys her, guiltily feels himself twitch and swell from being kept inside.

The male mind is a callous bastard, he thinks, bitterly. “Talk to me, darlin, talk to me, please tell me what’s goin’ on, whatcha want me to do–I’ll do anythin’ just, just talk to me,” he begs, his voice wavering.

“I’m ok, I’m ok,” she insists like the lying, foolheaded, brave darling that she is, “Just gotta get used to it again.” She lets out a deep breath she’d been holding since he first plunged in.

“I dunno, mamas, this seems awful bad. I not lick ya enough?” instinctively his hand moves down to where they’re joined, teasing her little bud persuasively but it just makes her clamp down harder on him and he hears her sob out,

“God no, please don’t make me do that,” she begs, referring to the natural way of a woman clenching on her man’s cock as if it were torture.

He’s had enough, enough of trembling and holding himself still while she cries in the shade of the crib, blocking out the yellow lamplight. “You’re tellin’ me you put a coke bottle up juuuuussst fiiiine but this is unbearable?”

“Alright, alright, the coke bottle hurt!” she admits, still keeping her iron grip on his ass and every time he goes to pull out she looks so pained it stops him, “It hurt, but I was pretty revved up with the way you were talkin’ over the phone and the doctor had said it would be bad the first few times after and we just gotta keep on and-and you’re a damn sight thicker than a coke bottle!” her remonstrance builds in heat and vulnerability as she goes on but he latches onto one thing in particular.

“Doctor said it’d be bad?” he asks, genuinely unsure of himself now. Breaking in a virgin is one thing, this is entirely unexpected.

“Yes, and that it would hurt but just to keep goin’… I thought I’d be able to, to take it or, or at least not be so wimpy about it–I want, I want you to feel good! It’s supposed to feel good, does it feel good, baby? He said it’d be like a virgin all over again.”

She looks so scared yet so expectant that it sends a chill down his spine, he can’t tell why. It feels–strange, and not like a damn virgin, not like it at all.

“Baby,” his voice cracks, can’t help it but he clears his throat even as his forearms start to shake from the plank he’s holding above her, “what’d he do to ya down there?”

“He stitched me.” She’s puzzled, “You know I tore–”

“Yeah, yeah, what was he talkin’ ‘bout virgins for?” His own voice is rising in panic at the idea that some Memphis fuckwit quack has officially ruined his new wife, “This is worse than that, ain’t it? Wasn’t so bad poppin’ yer cherry that ya screamed on me, ever, did ya?“

“No,” she whispers in defeat, agreeing that this is much, much worse than the wedding night, “He said he’d put an extra stitch in to make it tight for you again.” She looks so lost, so confused and hurt by his anger that he thinks he sees her flinching from his scowl.

That won’t do, won’t do at all, he lowers himself fully atop her, his arms giving out and he holds her close buried to the hilt as he nuzzles the tear tracks on her cheeks, trying to get a hold on himself, to be what she needs right now.

“You listen to me, darlin, you listen to your husband real well, ok?” he whispers into her ear, dragging his lips along her temple and her panicked shakes subside, “There ain’t nothin wrong with ya, this ain’t your fault, but there ain’t a thing about ya that needs fixin’, or tamperin’ with in any way, you hear me? You hear me, Elaine? You’re goddamn perfect, just the way God made ya, don’t you let no fuckin pervy sunuvvabitch make ya feel less for anythin’, aright? A man can have a child or he can have a woman, I wanted me a woman, I made me one outta ya and there ain’t nobody gets to take that from me, ya hear?”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya, I’m sorry,” she grits out, bitterly frustrated.

“That wasn’t my point,” he whispers, firmly gripping her chin so that she’ll meet his eyes, “my point was that you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, baby. Nothin’ at all. You’re a champ.”

“You’ll, you’ll do it, right?” she whispers urgently.

“Do what?”

“Break me in again?” she urges, squeezing his biceps encouragingly, “I want more! I want more babies and I want it to be good again!”

“I-I-I think you might need a doctor for that–” he balks, truly miserable and at a loss as to what to do, compounded by the fact he’s been so damn lonely for her these passed months that now he has her, he feels like his guard is down and all that strength he needs to be the man of the family is just–hemorrhaging into the sheets.

“Elvis.” He’d recognize that tone anywhere, he’d recognize it half dead and already resigns himself to the fact he’s gonna do whatever it is Elaine’s about to tell him he’s gonna do, “Elvis baby, ya made a lot of promises, and I made a lotta sacrifices, and we’re gonna keep ‘em, alright? And all it requires from you is to use the tool God gave ya and open me back up? Alright? And don’t be a pansy if I bite your shoulder next time,” she teases, squishing his cheeks together fondly, “I pushed two children out of my body, I can take little Elvis. I can, c’mon, I want ya to move, try movin again.” And she digs her heel into the plush muscle of his arse for emphasis.

“Did you just kick me like a horse?!” he cries, aghast, his dignity outraged.

“Maybe.” she smirks.

“I should get some oil or–” he dithers.

“I’m sopping wet down there, that ain’t the problem.” She shakes her head, pushing at his chest to get him to plank above her again, despite the fact he can tell this whole procedure–for it hardly feels like making love so much as it feels like surgery–has made him a bit floppy inside her. “You just gotta tear it open,” she explains emphatically and in a tone so brave he gets queasy.

“Fuck baby–” he whines, the memory of her shaking in pain not at all distant, despite her new found courage.

“You had no qualms tearing me before!”

“That weren’t the same!” he protests adamantly over that rather roughly disposed of hymen.

“Elvis, darlin, please move, just try it, for me. For more babies, please, come on.”

He props himself up, a pathetic little distance between their bodies as he has no intention of actually leveraging himself into her with any force and the idea of being far from her, even by a few inches, is rather unbearable right now. He comforts himself with the notion she’s seen him crying dozens of times before, and it never seems to put her off taking him.

It’s not quite as awful, that first drag out and push back in, he’s soft and shrunken inside her and the hopeful quirk of her eyebrow tells him she feels the improvement, too.

“That's it,,” she encourages as he goes in again, swaying over her in gentle little lunges as she holds her legs apart by the knees, her precious face contemplative as he continues, braver little stabs that she refuses to wince at.

He can’t seem to firm up. And she knows why. It’s the owl-eyed infants observing from the crib beside them and the thought of hurting her and the guilt in his heart and those hateful, hateful thoughts that take up residence in his head when he hasn’t someone to spill them to.

“I’ve missed touching you,” she whispers, letting go of her legs to draw his face down to her, that face that has become so darling, nearly talking into his moaning mouth as she begins to recite all the things she loves and misses about him, “I’ve missed reading together at night, missed coffee in the mornings and prayin’ in bed. I’ve got all those magazines you marked up with the crib sets, they’re in my, oh, my uh, my suitcase, and I’ve got all those color swatches still laid out on the desk, just as you and me and your mama left ‘em–OH!” He’s hardening up inside her, his mind back home, back to the life that they barely had a chance to build but that he has clung to these three, lonesome months. “And the way you defended us outside the airport, you’re so strong, so, so oooh–”

“I’ve missed you.” His voice shakes and he sniffles, snotty and guttural in the crook of her neck, “Missed it all so bad I wanted to die some nights.”

“I know, I know,” she coos, firmly focusing on his heartache and not the terrible pain growing between her legs as his desire mounts and his hips begin to move in earnest, his cock hardening and stretching her just as she asked, just as is horribly necessary for this life they want to grow into being. “But we’re here now, your family is here, you feel us don’t ya? We’ve gotcha, we’ve oh, we’ve gotcha, that’s it, that’s it, oooh.”

There’s something awful happening down there, a tearing or a ripping or a god knows what as he throbs and jerks inside her, and her sob comes out despite her best efforts. He stills again immediately, his head flung up and his eyes warily studying her as his mind comes back to the here and now. She can’t have that, she can’t. It’s got to be done, and she’s the one in this new family, for better or worse, who does the job when it’s too awful for the rest to stomach. He’s a tender fella, her man, sensitive and intuitive to the point of terrifying, and she thinks it’s not so great a sin to deceive him on occasion if it’s important, if it’s in the cause of taking that sensory burden off him, once in a while.

“I missed you so bad I just had to come see ya, I knew my boy needed me.” She gives an alibi for her sob but he seems cautious to buy it, until…

…until she remembers that dazed and transported face staring up at her in his uniform as he drank from her mere hours ago…

It’s unfair, but Elvis Presley has never fought fair and his wife reckons it would be dishonoring to differ from him. All's fair in love and war, her darling idiot had once quoted to her, and she decides he’s not fully silly. All is fair, surely, she thinks as she makes a consciously alluring motion to knead one full breast, then the other, not missing the way his eyes flick back and forth from her face to her breasts in a desperate attempt to stay focused. Each glance downwards to the leaking nipples becoming more and more prolonged, her face forgotten as she kneads out a little trickle. She sees him instinctively wet his lips and she feels his cock twitch violently inside her, brushing up against that secret place he found on their housebound honeymoon, and she lets out the first truly pleasured moan of this session.

Stock still though he is, he’s breathing so hard watching her grope herself he sounds like he’s run a marathon. He gets these odd looks on his face at times, like he’s a different person or there’s a different mind up there on occasion when they’re making love. She isn’t sure what it is yet, but he becomes suggestible, terribly, terribly lost during it, and almost frighteningly confused after it. She wishes to learn him better, to know why and where he goes in these bouts, how to make them nice and sweet for him, instead of confusing and shameful as he seems to think. To learn him she must be with him, and engage with him, and the first part she has accomplished. She’s on a bedroom floor in Germany with her husband. Check. Now for the engagement, now for him to start plundering her so passionately he forgets anything but them, them, them.

“Come on, sweet boy, come on an’ taste me,” she whispers, swiping a trickle with her fingers and bringing it to his wobbling lip, then pushing inside his gaping mouth and over his tongue, sliding along the smooth muscle until he whines and clamps his mouth shut around her finger, sucking like more will come.

Like a dog with a bone, a baby with a pacifier, she leads him mouth first, down to her breast, making the transition from fingers to nipple seamlessly. He latches on, he sucks, his arms flinging out to grip her shoulders in a crushing embrace as a shake rips through him so powerfully she’s certain this is somehow something more, she just doesn’t know what yet. Loathe to jar him from his ravenous, moaning, close-eyed sucking transportion, she holds him close to her chest and leverages her hips up, taking it upon herself to be the one to wring him dry. The noises of him sucking, the lewd smack of their sticky hips and the complete control she has in this moment–despite his position above her, over her, in her–is so strangely delicious she finds herself gasping in arousal from the dynamic alone, the pain beginning to subside. Strangely, cooing to her husband like he’s a child as he joins in pumping her full, spurred on by each swallowing gulp and filthy encouragement spewed by his wife’s lips, is actually damn exciting. Elaine would have thought she would find such a thing burdensome, lonely, maybe even a little frightening to be left alone in charge while her husband descended into a mindless, titty sucking, hip pumping inseminator. But oddly, she finds herself squirming up to meet him joyously, thighs burning with the force of her efforts to impale herself, gasping almost as loudly as he is at each vibrating moan he sends through her breasts, the strangest of promises and assurances babbling from her own lips.

“That's a good boy, that’s it, just like that, oh you’re so good to me, so perfect, so pretty, gonna give me those babies if you keep that up. That’s it, use those hips for me, I-I-I’m never gonna let you go, never gonna let you outta me ever, you’d like that? Hmm, oh oh, yeah you like that, oooh of course you do, of course you do that’s it, you’re almost there aren’t you? Come on, harder baby, harder, whatever y-uh, uh uhn, you need, whatever you neeeed–”

His pace grows brutal and she feels the tear when it happens, a burning, raw fleshed pain following with each animalistic thrust he indulges in after the give of her entrance becomes apparent to his cock, if not his brain. She bites her lip bloody and craves the warm, soothing release of him every bit as badly as this lust blind boy above her.

“Mama!” he begs, wrecked and bent in on himself as he fucks into her like a man and sucks her teats like a babe, “Mama, please, please I need, please can I–”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she doesn’t know what she’s agreeing to but learns right after her acquiescence as his pace falters and the whole lean composite of him bows up and begins to shudder out his release, hot spurts splattering her neglected womb and the thick, sticky trickle of him soothing the torn petals of her entrance. “Oh my, darlin,” she pants, labored and overwhelmed, the feel of him collapsed atop her both heavy and steadying. A comforting weight, her man, all sinewy muscle and long, limp limbs.

She runs her hands along his sweaty back and into his hair and down again, petting and talking to him, though he doesn’t seem aware, he just gives little shakes and mewls atop her, his softening cock finally slipping out as she shifts them to their sides. He seems asleep or unconscious nearly, except for the strong grip his hands maintain on her little frame, the only direction she has to suggest he needs her close.

She can do that, she can stay close. She’s never wanted anything more than that–closeness. How sweet to have found another who needs it as badly as she does. Is that love, she wonders. Who gets to define love, anyway?

She hauls the blankets up higher and ignores the throbbing, wet injury done between her legs, focusing on the way his wet cheek feels against her inner arm as she cradles him, studying this strangely vulnerable man of hers in the yellow lamplight. This striving of theirs took nearly all night, like Jacob and the angel, and the European dawn will be quick to intrude, she knows. Perhaps like Jacob she, too, will carry a limp in the morning, a souvenir of a brush with God. She throws her leg over his hip and draws him nearer, surrounding him as much as she can. She takes Elvis’ slack hand and lays it on her belly between them, watching as his fingers flutter over it even as his eyes remain firmly shut.

“Please, please,” her prayer to the Almighty gusts wet and fervent into his hair, “please take care of us. And bless us, bless us as we try to please you.”

Next thing Elvis knows it’s morning and there is a warm, sizable, but seemingly boneless little thing nudging his chest as he lays there waking up, eyes closed, trying to recall what happened before he took his pills and drifted off, trying to think of the circumstances that would fill him in on what sorta practical joke the boys might be pulling on him this morning. Then that warm, squishy, sizable thing pats him with a tiny, clammy little hand and he nearly bolts upright in realization of his surroundings. Thank God he has decent reflexes or else his sudden jerk would have sent his child flying, all the same they’re both a little startled as he catches his tiny daughter and their matching blue eyes have a staredown in the clear light of day.

“Hey, hey baby girl, sorry I startled ya,” he murmurs as he cradles her, that bizarrely unique smell of baby head breaking his heart and making him fall in love all at once as he kisses her forehead.

At the sound of his voice, the one she’s heard over the receiver day after day while an ocean separated them, Ella’s judicious frown smoothes into a toothless, buttery little grin that matches his own joy in having found each other.

“God, you two are unbearably cute.” Elaine’s gentle voice so close startles him and on further inspection of her position across from him, seated as well on the fluffy pallet on the floor with her back against the crib nursing his son, he realizes he’s lost a considerable gap of time in his memory before falling asleep. “Good morning, sleepyhead, how ya feelin’?” She points her toe and rubs his inner thigh fondly and he feels himself tearing up at the tangible, weighty, ticklish, warm realization that his family is here, they’re really here. This isn’t another dream brought on by some damn good sleeping pills.

Speaking of which–he’s suddenly certain he didn’t take them last night but he slept all the same, and that begs a dozen questions. He figures he’ll be well-mannered and answer his pretty wife’s first, though.

“I-I-I’m over the moon,” he rasps out with a stupid grin ruining his enunciation, his voice coming out scratchy from disuse and an unsettlingly deep slumber. “Feel like I been dead, slept so hard,” he mumbles, taking in Elaine’s rumpled elegance and the angelic portrait she makes cradling Jesse to her breasts and–

–oh God. Last night. What even happened last night? What’d he do to her? What’d she do to him? Did he hurt her? There was so much awfulness and pain and blood is on the sheets now he thrashes in them to inspect his family for damages, and oh god–he really is a selfish boy. The Colonel was right, you can put a ring on your finger and stop wearing a condom but it doesn’t mean you’ve grown up a bit and he–

“Elvis, baby, keep her head up.” There’s that tone again, the one he heard his wife use last night and that he submitted to before he descended into a fog of baby making and tit sucking fuckery, “And don’t panic, everything is lovely and is gonna be lovely and I’ve already spoken with your officer and he said that you’ve got another two hours before you have to be at base. And I was thinking maybe we could have a bite and then go with Dodger to the park or we could stay in, ‘course we could stay in, and you could get to know the babies or–”

She’s got so many options, his little wife, so many suggestions to make him happy, to calm him down, to give him peace. He settles back down beside her on the somewhat cringingly damp pallet, Ella’s head properly supported and he just looks at her. Looks and looks at the love of his life to his heart's content, which he thinks will be the day after never. He’ll be looking at Elaine with as much awe in fifty years as he does right now. He’s not sure how she took care of him last night, but he’s sure that she both did it, and did it cheerfully.

Thank ya, mama, he prays silently.

“You,” he answers aloud, laying his head on Elaine’s shoulder and watching his son grin around her nipple at the sound of his daddy’s voice, “I jus’ want you.”

Meanwhile, two years later…

Sarge Masterlist

I hope you all enjoyed, I love your prompts and screams and thots, never hold back, unleash them freely. 💋🌹

Copious thanks to my darling @prompted-wordsmith for the scheming and the editing and the friendship.

#elvis fanfiction #sarge and lil mama #mine #elvis imagine #elvis x you #elvis fanfic #austin butler elvis #elvis smut

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