#elvis prompt

[headfullofpresley]

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 4,5K

Summary: You and Elvis are always playing pranks on each other. This Halloween, you come up with a prank that goes horribly wrong as Elvis doesn't think it's so funny and gets genuinely upset. But like always, your partner eventually comes around and gets his revenge.

Warnings: strong language, playing with a ouija board, fake demonic possession, mentions of the devil, elvis being upset, elvis calling reader a bitch, pranks that you probs shouldn't use on other people, tiny bit of angst, reader and larry gellar disliking each other. guess that's it?

A/N: hello, hi! i guess this isn't really spooky but felt like it fit the season! there's pranks in this that i don't advise you to use on anyone unless that's you're kind of humor. wrote this in an hour or so because it randomly popped into my mind and well... i thought it was funny 👀. just want to make clear that this is in no way me making fun of elvis' spirituality in any way, nor is reader, if some people might think thatttt or if it comes across as that. just wanted to write something else rather than a vamp!elvis fic like my brain already was thinking about for halloween, AAAAH. also, this doesn't include all members of the mm or any of the other guys because i didn't know where to place them. okay, bye. p.s: be a smart cookie and don't use a ouija board.

Elvis didn’t care for Halloween.

Never did when he was young and never did as he was growing into an adult. Sure, when he was a little boy and his friends would drag him along to go trick or treating he could appreciate the free candy, but that was about it. After complaining about the people in scary costumes on the street when he was around 7, his mother stopped him from going out on All Hallow’s Eve and he appreciated her doing so.

As he got older, he’d usually be working on the last day of October and whenever he wasn’t, he would rent out the Memphian and watch horror movies with the guys, other friends and some of his fans. He enjoyed playing pranks and scaring the shit out of the people around him, but that’s where celebrating Halloween ended for Elvis.

His Christianity or beliefs didn’t have anything to do with it. He simply preferred holidays that involved lots of homecooked foods, spreading joy, giving gifts and being surrounded by his loved ones. Like Thanksgiving and especially, Christmas.

You on the other hand are obsessed with Halloween. You always put a lot of effort in your costumes and Elvis allowed you to put carved pumpkins by the front door with a lit candle inside of it, but he wouldn’t celebrate with you in any other way than watching movies. You were too old to go trick or treating, so you were happy when Lisa Marie was over at Graceland on some Halloween evenings to do so with her, but this year she unfortunately was in California with her mother.

 

This Halloween you put little effort into your costume, opting for a black cat suit with a tail, some drawn on whiskers that complimented the dark eye make-up you were sporting, and a pair of black cat ears. Elvis wasn’t complaining because you looked smoking hot in it, but he wasn’t aware that you chose this simple outfit because you had bigger plans for tonight that involved… well, let’s say, a lot of action.

After watching a few movies at the Memphian with Elvis, some fans and the guys, you all made it back to Graceland. It was only around 1 in the morning which was early for the bunch you were living with, so nobody was tired yet. Which was good, because you and Charlie Hodge had come up with the perfect prank to play on Elvis and the two of you managed to convince everyone to get involved in it.

The only one who wasn’t up for it was Larry Gellar and you were slightly worried that he’d out your little plan and ruin the whole thing. You were praying that he’d just go home already, but much to your chagrin, he was sitting on the couch and conversing with Elvis, not looking as if he’d leave any time soon. You were just going to have to risk it.

“Let’s play a game!” You chirped happily as you held up a plastic bag, pulling off your cat tail and throwing it by the side of the couch. “I found this today at the store. The sales girl told me it’s the perfect game to play during Halloween, because then you know it really works,”

Elvis watches with curiosity as you pull a large box out of the bag, turning it around and showing him the front. As he realises you were holding up a ouija board, he was immediately intrigued. Ever the curious person, especially when it came to things about spirituality, Elvis slides to the edge of the couch and takes the box out of your hands, opening the lid to take the board out and inspect it.

“Hell no, I ain’t playin’ that,” Lamar immediately says as he glances at the board and you try to suppress a grin. His reaction was the one you told him to give. If Lamar would play, Elvis was going to take the chance to tease the hell out of him for a week straight because Lamar scared easily when it came to these things.

“Ah c’mon, Fike. It’ll be fun,” Elvis grins as he places the board in the middle of the coffee table. You give Charlie a quick thumbs up and he grins, agreeing to play the game. Sonny and Red agree as well, but Larry decides to sit this one out. You were happy about that and as you go around the living room to dim the lights and light some candles, you feel instantly annoyed when you hear Larry’s voice.

“Elvis, I don’t think this is a good idea. Playing with an object like that can be dangerous, you know?” Larry chimes in, looking at Elvis with worried eyes. Never really having liked Larry, you roll your eyes. Elvis doesn’t see it but Red does and he sticks his finger in his mouth, feigning a gag. The two of you silently laugh and you sit down on the floor by the table, Elvis sliding onto the floor next to you.

“It’s not dangerous, baby. It’s just a game,” you quickly tell Elvis as Larry once more expresses his concern. Elvis looks at Larry once more before he turns to you and grins, kissing the corner of your mouth as he grabs the planchet and puts it on the board. Larry gives you an annoyed glare and you ignore it, happy that he decides to retreat back into the kitchen. Joe sits back on the couch along with Billy to watch the game unfold, simply because there wasn’t enough space for more fingers on the planchet.

 

“You sneaky sonofabitch. You’re the one movin’ that thing!” Elvis exclaims in slight annoyance as he glares at Sonny who sat on the opposite side of the table. Sonny widens his eyes, trying his best to hold back a laugh as he shakes his head.

“I swear to God, I ain’t doin’ it!”

You and Charlie exchange a knowing look. It was the two of you taking turns sneakily moving the planchet with the tips of your fingers, but Elvis didn’t notice a thing. He was too intrigued and focused on the words “it”, or in this case you, were spelling out. You hadn’t propeely opened communication or whatsoever, so the board wasn’t working at all. You believed that a ouija board could truly work if you wanted it to and you could communicate with… well, someone or something, but that wasn’t the intention for tonight.

You just wanted to play the prank of the century on your man like he has done to you so many times before.

All of you ask random questions at first that require simple answers. Then you decide to take matters further into your own hands and add up the dramatics a notch. You needed it to be spooky. Elvis doesn’t scare easily, the morgue trips he often makes with you were proof of that, and you want him to be terrified tonight.

“Someone dies tonight.”

All of you exchange uncomfortable glances, though only that of Elvis was real. He shifts a little on the floor and takes his finger off the planchet, accusing Charlie instead of Sonny now.

“Hodge, stop pullin’ my leg with this bullshit!” He huffs and Charlie widens his eyes, scared that you and him got caught, and just as he opens his mouth to defend his case, you speak up.

“Elvis! You’re not allowed to take your hands off of it without saying goodbye!” You grab his hand and bring it back to the board, putting his finger back on the planchet. He looks at you and scoffs, squinting his eyes.

“Oooh, I see. It’s you, ain’t it?”

You mentally curse yourself. Was your acting that bad? Shaking your head as you give him your most serious face, you tell him that it’s truly not you who is moving the planchet and before he can question you further, Charlie sneakily spells out something else.

“The girl.”

“That’s it. I ain’t playin’ no more. Say goodbye, goddamnit,” Elvis barks in annoyance. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud but he truly believed the planchet was moving by itself and spelling out these things. He was having fun when they started and asked random and silly questions, but now it was getting a little too serious for him.

A little too scary.

This thing was threatening your life and he felt a sense of paranoia fill his chest. What if you’d really die because of this stupid game?

No. No, you weren’t going to die. It’s just a game. It’s not real- he refuses to believe it’s real.

You quickly say goodbye along with everyone else, moving the planchet over the word before taking your hands off. You bite your lip to hold back a laugh and wrap your arms around Elvis’ neck as he leans back against the couch, crossing his arms after he shoved the board across the table. You giggle softly and hug him, planting kisses on his cheek.

“Stop that worryin’. It’s just a game, El, nothing is going to happen.”

Although he doesn’t believe you and is still worried, he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, hugging you back.

 

You spent the rest of the late evening playing some music and Elvis doing a spontaneous jam session, which got his mind off of that damned ouija board. After all, it was just a game. Nothing was going to happen and tomorrow afternoon, he’d wake up with you in his arms.

Alive and well.

But as you two got upstairs to his bedroom and got ready for bed, he wasn’t going to take no risks. There was a baseball bat leaning against the wall by the door and a hand gun laying atop of his Bible on the bedside table. You look at it as you got into bed where Elvis already was, sitting against the headboard with the TV on.

“What are you gonna do? Shoot a ghost?” You joke with a soft snort and he looks at you, simply nodding his head.

“Hell. I will if I have to,”

“My protector,” You swoon playfully as you run your fingers through his hair, laughing. He chuckles softly and sighs, kissing your lips before he allows you to settle in the bed. You pretend to watch some TV with him but couldn’t contain your excitement, curious to know what his reaction was going to be when the best part of the prank would play out.

Since you fell asleep pretty quick most of the time, Elvis didn’t think anything of it when he heard you lightly snoring as you had turned your back to him. He had his arm leaning across your hip, needing to touch you in one way or another, always. Unbeknown to him, you were wide awake and looking at the alarm clock on your side of the bed. You had told Charlie to give you twenty minutes before you’d set things into motion and as that amount of time had passed, you started off your little prank slow.

Ease Elvis into it, so to speak.

 

Pretending you were having a nightmare, you twitch lightly while mumbling some soft incoherent sentences, moaning uncomfortably. Elvis who was still wide awake moves his hand from your hip to your hair, caressing it soothingly as he sits up a little to look over at you. Figuring you’re still sleeping, he leans back against the headboard of the bed but only a split second later, you suddenly shoot up to sit in the bed. Startled, his heart skips a beat and he quickly sits up again too, moving some of your hair over your shoulder. He’s familiar with sleepwalking, but he has never seen you do it before. He knows not to wake someone when they’re in a state like this nor call out their name, but his worries grow by tenfold as your body slumps against him.

And then starts twitching and goddamn near convulsing as you throw your head back. He widens his eyes in shock as your eyes roll in the back of your head, your arms hanging limp by your side. Holding your frame, he tries to keep you still as he cups your face.

“Y/N! Y/N!” He slaps your cheek softly, unsure of what to do in a situation like this. He curses loudly as he reaches over to the phone on the bedside table, putting it to his ear as he calls downstairs and yells to whoever is on the other end of the line to come upstairs.

Like clockwork, Charlie comes running in not much later and feignes a gasp at the sight of your state. Elvis looks over at him, desperate for help.

“Goddamnit, Charlie, do somethin’!” Elvis yells as your body seems to be twisting and turning into uncomfortable positions, arching your back as you let out deep groans and grunts. You didn’t even know your voice could get that low, but you were impressed by yourself.

An eerie feeling washes over Elvis and he slowly lets go of you as you push yourself out of arms, standing on top of the bed. And then you just start��� laughing.

Like an absolute maniac.

The sound sent shivers down Elvis’ spine and he quickly got off the bed, standing next to Charlie as they both look at you, unsure of what was happening. Well, at least one of them. Charlie was completely sucked up into his role though and he took a step back, fear in his eyes.

He was a damn good actor.

Something clicked inside of Elvis’ brain as you look at him with a menacing look in your eyes, smirking like the Devil himself just walked into the room.

That goddamned board.

“Get my Bible,” Elvis orders Charlie, never taking his eyes off of you. Charlie does as he’s told and grasps the Bible from the bedside table, handing it to Elvis. The singer takes off the necklace he was wearing with a cross pendant hanging on the silver chain and hands it to Charlie, looking at the smaller male.

“Put this on her forehead,”

“Elvis...” Charlie widens his eyes, holding onto the necklace and pretending to be terrified of going near you. “Can’t we.. can’t we just call an ambulance?!”

Charlie was going to do whatever Elvis told him to do anyways because it makes the situation seem more natural but even if he wouldn’t be acting, the glare that Elvis gives him is enough to have him sprint into action. He runs over to the bed and pulls you down, keeping you down on the mattress as he presses the cross against your forehead. As you look at Charlie, you have to try your damnest not to ruin things and laugh, but luckily you manage to stay in your role.

Writhing on the bed and trying to get out of Charlie’s grip with what truly is little effort but looks like a lot, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. Elvis comes closer to the bed while he is quickly reciting any kind of prayer he thinks might work, reading psalm after psalm. He’s taken back for a second when you did what Charlie and you rehearsed- kicking the brunette off of you and making him land on the floor. You swear you could hear Charlie chuckling, but Elvis is only focused on you.

Now you are the one that is taken back as he gets on top of you and grabs your wrists, holding them above your head as he’s still reciting prayers. He’s yelling at the non existent demon inside of you to get the hell out and Charlie has to muffle a laugh in the palm of his hand, curious about what you were going to do because neither of you expected this.

You felt a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat, so before it could come out, you stop writhing on the bed and drop your head to the side, pretending that the prayers worked and it has all come to an end. Elvis sat on top of you for a few more minutes until he releases your hands and gets up, closing his Bible. He watches you, ready to once more go into action as he sees you casually sit up and get up from the bed. He frowns a little as you walk over to Charlie and hook your arm through his, clearing your throat.

“The end.” You and Charlie gracefully bow, bursting out into uncontrollable laughter.

Until you notice one person in the room isn’t laughing.

Feeling the mood shifting in the room and as if a thunderstorm just passed over Graceland, you stop laughing as you see Elvis glaring at the both of you. You walk over to him as he throws his Bible on the bed and cup his face, but he’s quick to swat your hands away and get back into his bed.

“Elvis, c’mon. Don’t be mad, baby. We were just having a little fun,” you laugh softly, sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. He turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes icy cold. You weren’t unfamiliar with that look but usually it was something more serious that brought it on and you never liked it.

But what you weren’t realising is that this was serious to Elvis. He thought he was going to lose you to some freaky demonic entity.

“Get out.” He simply states in a low voice, turning his head back to the TV that was still on. You look at Charlie and he gives you a little nod, taking you out of the room with him.

You succeeded in pranking the prank master, but you’re afraid you pushed him too far and that simply wasn’t worth it.

 

You figured Elvis would be over it by the day after Halloween and things would go back to normal. But then again, you know Elvis like the back of your hand and although you were not surprised by him ignoring you for a week straight, you were still hurt.

When he learned that all of the guys were involved in your little prank, he let them have a piece of his mind and that was that. But you were walking on eggshells. He even made you sleep in Lisa Marie’s bedroom for that entire week.

By Sunday night, you were fed up with it. Maybe you had taken things too far, but it was just idiotic that he wouldn’t even let you sleep in the same bed as him.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” He snaps as he watches you burst into the bedroom and get into the bed next to him, fluffing your pillow.

“What does it look like?” Maybe you don’t have the right to be annoyed with him, but you are. He knows how much you hate to be ignored and you’ve been worrying yourself all week with all sorts of doom scenarios, like him ending the relationship.

He grabs your arm to pull you out of bed but you sit up and pull your arm out of his grasp, the words flying rapidly off your tongue. “Good God, Elvis. I’ve told you I’m sorry about a thousand times, but you don’t wanna hear it! You haven’t spoken a word to me in a week. At least yell at me, be angry with me, do something!”

His nostrils flare as his jaw clenches and he sits up more straight, turning his body into your direction.

“You want me to yell? Be angry? Fine!” He barks harshly, his loud rich voice booming off the walls. “I thought I was gon’ fuckin’ lose you that damn night! I thought you really were gon’ die, Y/N. That there was some sonofabitch inside of ya who was takin’ ya away from me. If you think that’s so hilarious, well hell, then you really are an evil bitch,”

You weren’t hurt by him calling you a bitch. You and Elvis fought enough times in the past that involved ugly name calling but you always made up minutes later. It never lasted for days. But learning that he was truly afraid of losing you in that moment causes your heart to clench uncomfortably in your chest. You feel a pang of guilt in your gut and your shoulders slump, tears burning in your eyes as you could see a tear rolling down Elvis’ cheek. He quickly wipes it away and looks at the TV set, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Elvis, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” You exclaim breathlessly as you crawl closer to him and hide your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His body tenses up but then he quickly relaxes under your touch and wraps his arms around your frame, placing one hand on the back of your head to press you firmer against him. “i didn’t mean to scare you like that, I really didn’t. I just thought it would be a fun prank for Halloween. I never thought it’d turn out like this.”

It was never your intention to truly hurt Elvis or emotionally scare him. Deep down inside, Elvis knows this and he feels a little guilty about giving you the cold shoulder for a week, but he doesn’t feel the need to apologize to you for that. Instead, he accepts your apology with a long tender kiss and then cups your cheeks as he looks into your eyes.

“You can prank me, baby, jus’… no more pranks like that, okay?” He whispers as he brushes some hair out of your face, thumbing a tear away from the corner of your eye. You nod, promising him that you’ll never do something like this again and keep it at small pranks only.

 

That same night, you and Elvis stand outside at the back of Graceland, watching the ouija board melt into mush in the firepit.

He wasn’t going to take any chances and forbids you to play with a board like that for the rest of your life. You have no problem promising him that you will never touch another ouija board again and content with your answer, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and looks at the flames.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Little,” he whispers as he presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo before he kisses your head. You wrap your arm around his waist and hold him close as you nod, resting your head against his chest. “I can’t lose ya. Ever.”

“I promise, Elvis,” you say as you raise your head and look up at him, kissing his chin. “You’ll never lose me. Even the Devil can’t take me away from you.”

He grins at your words and pecks your lips, but then he pulls his head back and looks past you, frowning. Curious, you look over your shoulder and a hot feeling of fear immediately spreads throughout your chest, widening your eyes as you see two man wearing scary wolf masks stalking toward you and Elvis.

It was only you and your boyfriend at the house tonight, but still when one of the men grabs you and a few others that came from the other side of the premises grab Elvis, you scream at the top of your lungs for help. It doesn’t do much and your vision is taken from you as you’re being blindfolded, a hand being placed firmly over your mouth.

You were thrown in the back of a car and after driving for what felt like hours, you were being lifted out of the car. You couldn’t speak as one of the men had shoved what you guessed was a tie in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop cussing at them in the back of the car. You were surprised they hadn’t knocked you unconscious yet.

You were terrified of what was to come, but more so you were worried sick about Elvis. The last thing you had seen were a couple of masked maniacs overpowering him and dragging him away. Having no idea where he was or if he was even still alive, you were determined to break free and get out of where ever you were.

You needed to get to Elvis. The thought of never seeing him again made your head spin, feeling like you were about to either faint or be ill.

Despite your inner turmoil, you didn’t stop fighting your kidnappers. Not even as you were being placed on a chair, your hands tied behind your back and your ankles tied together. As the fabric was pulled out of your mouth, you were about to scream again until your blindfold was taken off. As your eyes adjust to your surroundings, you widen your eyes when you see Elvis and the Memphis Mafia standing in front of you, all wearing shit eating grins.

You realise you’re sitting in the pool room.

The guys all burst out into rumbling laughter, Elvis included, and he bends down to be at your eye level, his hands placed on his knees as he grins.

“Honey, I’m gon’ say this once and for all,” he bites his lip as he laughs, that mischievous little boy gleam in his eyes. “Don’t prank the master.”

You sarcastically laugh along with him as he unties you, glaring at Lamar who was having an uncontrollable fit of giggles when he tells you you should’ve seen yourself when him and Sonny were driving you around the block to make you think you were being taken somewhere else.

You stand up from the chair as Elvis has let you free and grab a poolstick from the wall. Red snickers.

“We should probably start runnin’ now, huh?”

“Yup.” Elvis smirks, popping the ‘P’ as he shoves the guys out of the way and starts making a run for it. You were immediately hot on all of their heels, your main suspect being Elvis, as you yell profanities at them while trying not to laugh.

Both you and Elvis know that this was only the start of what would become a very, very long prank war and you’re determined to take his title away from him, although you doubted you’d succeed at that.

As long as it didn’t involve ouija boards and any kind of demonic possession, Elvis was ready for whatever you had planned for him. But just to be absolutely sure, he made a mental reminder to have Lisa Marie stay at Graceland for Halloween next year so he could benefit of the free candy and admire your matching costumes with his daughter rather than thinking he was going to have to give you up to the Devil.

Because one way or another, he would shoot the sonofabitch.

taglist: @notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley @ccab @whatstruthgottodowithit @dkayfixates @lettersfromvenus @elvisalltheway101 @that-hotdog @robinismywife @jaqueline19997 @raginginkedslut @joshuntildawn13 @claire-elvisgirl

[starryschoolgirl]

Hello! I’m not sure if you’re taking any requests or if you’re busy writing other things, but I had this idea of Elvis meeting and falling in love with the 17/18 year old daughter of a very famous singer (like a Nancy and Frank situation) in 1960. Her father has his own television show and she doesn’t exactly have her own career but she is very well known and she can sing and sometimes her father has her sing on the show. Elvis is on it and during rehearsals I can see them being playful and maybe even more outside of rehearsals (if you know what I mean 😉) but I can see the daughter (reader) and Elvis doing like a Baby, It’s Cold Outside duet bit for the show. I’m not exactly sure for a plot, but I think that would be very fun to read. Thank you for considering <3

Hello lovely one! I am so totally into writing this, I feel it would be perfect to post as the winter season will soon begin!! I've already put together a little envision board for writing it!

Thank you so much dear for this request, I've already started writing it and will post it as soon as I can!! Seriously I'm super excited to write this! You've reminded me I better start gearing up for the holidays!

Much love to you! 🦌❄️🎅🏻

[floralcyanide]

#9/#17 from smut list 2 & #11 from smut list 1 with Javi from Twisters, I can no longer unsee pre accident Javi not messing around if he was dating someone especially a fellow chaser in that car they borrowed from uni after noticing during rewatch two Kate mentioned they could barely get him to wear pants back then ykyk 😏

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!

(requests are closed for the saturday night sleepover!)

Javi RIvera x Fem!Reader

prompts: 9: car sex, 17: sex while camping, 11: cockwarming after a long day in order to calm down together

a/n: javi was def super horny in college 24/7 you can't change my mind (and probably still is lbr)

For one particular chase, the group decides to make a night out of it and camp after the storm tapers off. The 6 of you camp out in the 4 Runner and the van, as well as a handy tent Jeb had brought, courtesy of his roommate. Kate’s mom had plenty of camping gear that she let all of you use as well, so it was a legitimate setup. Lanterns, a fire, some chairs, and non-perishable food with some sleeping bags and blankets. You and Javi decided to make a pillow fort in the back of the van, Jeb and Kate took the 4 Runner- Addy and Praveen used the tent to sleep in.

This chase was nerve-wracking for sure. A typical EF1 turned into a rowdy EF3 and required the entire team to work together to get back to safety. The group manages to find an area by the lake to camp and attempt to settle down. After a night of going over some data and exchanging ghost stories to ward off the tense vibes, the 6 of you wander over to your respective sleeping areas and crash. Except you and Javi, of course, because Javi doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself, especially when he’s nervous. 

You sigh and roll over, causing Javi’s hand to retract from your thigh, “Are you okay?”

“No,” Javi mutters, moving to lay on his side and facing you, “Are you?”

“No,” you admit, “I’m still kind of anxious.”

You and Javi don’t have to whisper technically, as the van is parked a little ways from the tent and 4 Runner, so the others likely wouldn’t hear your conversation. But the night was still enough that you felt you had to keep your voices down. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Javi asks, rubbing your arm soothingly.

You shrug, “I can think of something else I’d rather do, honestly.”

“Like what?” 

“Put your hand back on my thigh, and I’ll show you what.”

Javi grins from ear to ear at that. He puts his hand back where it was, his palm flat to your skin with his fingers splayed. Only this time, he quickly moves his hand under your shorts to cup your heat. He slips a finger under your underwear, toying with your clit until you’re squirming and growing wet. Javi tests how wet you’ve become with a curious finger.

“I wanna try something,” Javi says, his lips brushing your ear.

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“Get on top for a little while, but don’t move.”

“What, like, fucking you without moving?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’s more relaxing than you think. Now, come on,” Javi pats his thighs as he lays on his back.

You shrug, pulling down your shorts and underwear and setting them aside as Javi pulls his down his legs. As you hover, Javi teases your entrance and clit with the tip of his length before guiding himself inside you. You sigh in contentment as he fills you up nicely. After some adjusting, you manage to sit on top of Javi, him fully sheathed inside your needy cunt. Javi runs his hands along your thighs as you sit still on top of him, watching you with utter endearment. 

“Feel better yet?” you ask, wanting so badly to move.

“Yep,” Javi pops the ‘p’. After a moment of silence, Javi reads your impatient facial expression, “You want to move, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you groan, “But it feels nice not to at the same time. I like being so full of you like this.”

“Maybe if you stay still long enough, I’ll let you move.”

“Deal.”

A few minutes pass and you’re now biting your lip in order not to swivel your hips. Javi chuckles, his hands on your hips. He lifts you up a little, to which you hiss, and then motions for you to drop back down. You let out a quiet, high-pitched moan, your fingers grasping at Javi’s shirt. He feels himself twitch as he bucks into you, wanting to hear you moan like that again. Adjusting yourself to the feeling of moving again, you start riding Javi slowly so you don’t accidentally scream out in pleasure. He feels you clenching around him, signaling you’re close.

“Gonna cum already? Didn’t know you needed me that bad- ow!”

Javi is interrupted by you flicking him on the nipple through his t-shirt, “Just fuck me, Jav. Save your snarkiness for later.”

Javi snaps his hips into you a little faster, matching your hip’s movements. He presses his thumb to your clit, and you come undone, having to shove your fist in your mouth to keep your moans at bay. Since Javi didn’t finish inside you, you offer to get him off quickly before the two of you decide it’s best to go to sleep.

“Go ahead, but I can tell you right now I’m probably just going to bust in your mouth in five seconds.”

[be-my-ally]

I Feel The Earth Move

for the prompt: something weather related. (wow, a genius must have come up with that)

I, I don’t know how or when this turned into 5k (7k now), I truly don’t - take it from me, nothing happens in this fic, it is pure (somewhat domestic) fluff and smut. It’s also - well, this is probably the closest you could get to a peek inside my brain of my current favourite sleep/daydream fantasy - i.e it's just reader and elvis having a chat?

warnings: 18+, smut (of the gentle kind), slight body-negativity (from reader, about herself). Because this is fanfiction, suspend your disbelief and assume Elvis was allowed a day off during his November 1971 tour during which this fic takes place, and that Joyce isn’t available. Red being a bit of a dick. I change tenses about 12 times.

1971!Elvis x fem!reader – soft belly mentioned.

wc: 7.3k - idk enjoy my long descriptions of choosing pjs, and sitting around watching Elvis sit there.

(It's been so long since I posted a non-series fic, that I truly can't remember taglist info so here is a PSA to message me/comment if you want me to tag you in everything!)

Elvis had called you, unexpectedly, just a few days ago, to join him for the rest of the tour and though you’d found the whirlwind of movement and activity exciting you were already tired. You couldn’t imagine how Elvis himself must be feeling. So, you were grateful that you were stopping for a little while, even if it was just for the night. The town you’d ended up in wasn’t anything special, just a convenient stop-off for the brief rest before you all continued to the show the next night. The hours from the show the night before, and the following afternoon weren’t long enough of a break for anyone to go home and relax, but Elvis had been twitchy and anxious to do something else for the day, and you weren’t surprised to be told there was to be a new car delivered to the hotel to play around with.  

When the new, shiny, black car had pulled up outside the hotel you’d stood beside him at the window, nodding as he pointed out specific features, ooh and aahing at the right moments, even though, as far as you could tell it looked much the same as the others you’d seen him drive. But it made him happy and that was what mattered. Elvis had grinned at you and curled an arm around your waist, asking you oh so nicely if you wouldn’t like to go out for a ride with him in it. He’d had a long week, it was all getting a bit much - the tour, and the travelling and he just wanted to feel normal for an evening - you get that right? You’d readily agreed once he’d hitched your shirt up to brush his thumb against your skin and whispered he wanted it to just be the two of you. You would have agreed regardless, truthfully you would have agreed to anything he suggested after having had the call, so unexpectedly out of the blue, to come and spend a few days with him; you wanted to make the most out of every second.  

You soon live to regret that sentiment, however, as you hurry to the car with your arms wrapped around yourself. It’s freezing and, though it isn’t raining yet, the dark grey sky isn’t looking particularly friendly. Elvis starts to follow you down the motel steps after a few muttered words to the boys, but pauses for a moment - watching you rapidly trot to the car before disappearing back into one of the rooms. You watch, shivering from the passenger seat, hoping he won’t take too long when he appears a minute later, hurrying down the stairs himself, this time carrying a second of his coats - a short but thick suede and shearling jacket that he throws onto your lap before climbing in himself. He’s wearing a red suede coat that falls to his knees, and he’s forced to unbutton it to sit down in the car. He mutters to himself about it, as he stands back up before finally getting in and slamming the door shut. He glances over at you,  

“Look - get that on ya now, there we are - I’ll, I’ll turn the heat on in a mo, once we’ve got her running.”  

“Thank you,” You shoulder into the jacket gratefully, “I didn’t realise it was so cold.” He hums at you, twisting the ignition and sending the car purring to life. He grins at the engine noise, turning to look at you with boyish delight.  

“Alright then, honey, let me show ya what this can do.” You squeal as he takes off, and he laughs as you grab at the handle while he wildly turns the first corner, calming down a little himself once he was on the open road. He sings along to the radio, The Temptations are playing, Just My Imagination, and he hums along to the words he doesn’t know, singing the ones he does. It’s absurdly endearing and you’re momentarily breathless getting to watch and hear him like this. You have no idea where you are, too distracted with watching him than the passing scenery. He’s so pretty in the early evening light, happy and relaxed. He taps his hand on the wheel to the beat, moving his head, turning to sing to you. You smile, overwhelmed but not wanting to scare him off and unsure how to respond, but he clearly understands your facial expression and appreciation, offering his palm up on your thigh for you to hold.  

You drive in what feels like an endless combination of loops and “Which way looks exciting baby? You wanna go left or right here?” until, somehow, it’s been almost two hours and you were passing through a small town on the outskirts of the city, gaining more and more distance from the hotel. If you’d started to pay any attention to your surroundings you’d realise you were starting to recognise them.  

The storm starts slowly, just a little rain, a grey cloud here and there, and Elvis ignores it as he drives, laughing when he drives through a forming puddle and splashing up the water onto the windows. Simply turning his radio up higher in response to the worsening rain patter. You’re showing him your fully choreographed dance routine to I Feel the Earth Move, and he laughs at your wiggles and shakes while you giggle performing it, signalling to the sky and emphasising the ‘tumbling down’ lyric that matches the downpour picking up.  

Almost at once, as the rain increases in tempo, the car starts to slow, sputtering and shuddering to a halt. The radio keeps playing although you immediately reach out to turn it down,  

“Uh… what, what’s happened?” You have no clue about cars, but you’re hopeful Elvis might have some idea. Elvis growls, trying to turn the ignition again, the car sputters but refuses to start.  

“Fuck, fuck, just fuckin’ great man.” He slams his hands on the wheel in frustration, and you flinch, turning to look wide-eyed out into the rapidly darkening evening sky, stormy and intimidating, the rain falling into flowing streams down the road. Elvis tries again, yanking his glasses off like that might make a difference, but it just won’t start and though you really don’t want to annoy him any further, you have, while peering over at him, noticed something that might be related to your sudden lack of power.  

“Um, El, is - is that the gas blinking at you?” Elvis lifts his head up from the wheel, frowning at the fuel indicator. He swears again,  

“Fuckin’ piece of junk - it must be broken already! I swear, honey, it had a full tank when we left - didn’t, it gave me no ind’catshun it would do that.” He shakes his head, muttering about a hunk of junk new cars while the E continues to flash. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth,  

“Uh, well, at least we know what the problem is,” You rack your brain for a solution, “We’ll just have to get one of the guys to run us some gas!”  

“Yeah real smart idea, ‘cept we don’t have a phone.” You whirl around to look into the backseat but sure enough, no phone. “In the goddamn middle of nowhere,” He slaps the wheel again. You look out of the windows, realising with a start exactly where you were. You debate for a second if you should confess but the rain picks up again, hammering down even harder than before, and you realise you don’t have a choice. “Guess our only choice is to go knocking on some people’s doors.” He sighs, putting his head into his crossed arms on top of the wheel,  

“We-e-ell, not quite.” He rolls his head to peek at you,  

“What d’ya mean?” You blink at him,  

“Uh, my house is right around here. Just - just a little past that next corner.” Elvis sits fully upright, mouth agape, with a furrow forming in his brow,  

“Your house? Around that corner?” You nod, anxious that he’s about to be mad that you hadn’t told him. He side-eyes you suspiciously,  

“Thought you were from…uhhh, wasn’t it, uh, Louisville?”  

“Well - yes and no, that’s where I go to college - my parent’s house is right around that corner ‘s only about another, I don’t know - maybe a 20 minute walk?” Elvis looks at you a little strangely again, but after he looks up at the sky, he nods.  

“We’ll have to make a break for it I guess. Not quite how I planned the evenin’ - your folks be ok witchyou bringin’ me home?” You nod,  

“Course! And, well, they’re visiting my aunt at the moment up in Chicago anyway - she’s just had another baby.” He pauses looking at you questioningly,  

“And you didn’t wanna go? Don’t women like babies?” You roll your eyes,  

“God, no I didn’t want to go! What can they do at that age anyway?” He frowns like he’d wanted to protest your point, but then realises he can’t deny it’s true, “I’ll go and see her when she can stand and look at me - and, well, I, I, I had plans made by then anyhow.” He grins at you and pleased that he liked your plan you continue,  

“I can’t promise the fridge’ll be stocked, but there should be something we can eat in the pantry while we wait for the guys, and obviously we can use the phone -“ Elvis shakes his head, eyes bright,  

“Yep, needta tell ‘em where we are, wouldn’t want them sending out a search party but…” He makes a show of peering out of the window, leaning forward, “You know, I wouldn’t want to make any of ‘em come out in this.” You blink at him, it was a bad storm, sure, but it would be a push to call it undriveable, “I s’pose we may as well stay the night.” He pats your thigh and you stare at him for a second, processing, before nodding.  

“I suppose that does make an awful lot of sense. It wouldn’t be right for them to get stuck out here too…” 

“Be nice to spend the night alone with you, baby.” He winks, nodding at the door, “Whenever you’re ready, hon, lead the way, I’ll follow you.”  

You’re both soaked through by the time you reach the little front porch. Although your matching suede jackets had done the job of keeping some of the rain off, you had had still been out in the rain for a little too long - it had been a rapid walk, or slow jog for about fifteen minutes before you’d reached civilisation, frantically picking up the pace as thunder started to rumble overhead, for the last few minutes of dashing to your street. You scramble under the little decorative frog on the top step for the spare key, desperately hoping your mother hadn’t decided to move it while they were away. You hold it up triumphant, oblivious to the way the moonlight was reflecting off your blouse under Elvis’ open jacket, the rain making the white totally see through. Elvis grins at you encouragingly, and you open the door with a flourish, allowing you both to tumble into the empty house. You slam the door shut, leaning against it, dripping wet, to watch Elvis look around curiously and you anxiously begin to fill the silence. 

“Um, I don’t know what clothes I have here - but, I definitely have something and I’ll bring down something for you, uh, you’ll probably have to wear my father’s pyjamas, and he’s a touch bit bigger than you, but we have a dryer!”  

“Thank you sweetheart, that’s mighty kind of you -“  

“So, I can get your clothes dried for you.” Elvis is looking at you with bemusement, and you can feel yourself rambling, and you force yourself to take a breath before continuing, “I’ll have to check if daddy’s left the water on - we might have to make do without a shower, but I’ve got plenty of blankets to warm us up instead.”  

“Sounds great - I’m sure that’ll -“  

“So if you just -“ you gesture to the kitchen doorway, “-I won’t be a minute, help yourself to anything you like. The phone’s just on the wall there if you wanna call the hotel.” You sprint up the stairs, furious with yourself for the rising panic you were starting to feel - what were you thinking. You were an adult, you could cope with this. You could deal with Elvis Presley. In your house. With nothing prepared.  

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down, trying to think straight, right. First things first, you head into your parent’s room, quickly finding an inoffensive pair of button down pyjamas for Elvis to wear, and you’re about to take them down the stairs when you’re suddenly made aware of the sticking sensation of your wet skirt to your legs - Elvis must be soaked through too, so you detour to the bathroom to fetch him a towel, shouting down to him, 

“El! Here ya go!” He appears at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you with some amusement, as he tries to catch your particularly terrible throw. Clearly he doesn’t normally have his clothes thrown at him from above and it makes you laugh watching him flounder on the opposite side of his stage scarf dynamic for once.  

“ ‘re you not coming down, baby?”  

“Um, I’ll be down in just a second! Just leave your stuff on the table and I’ll run it down to the dryer in a bit!”  

“Uh, well, sure thing, honey, thank you.” A moment or so later you can hear the clinking of what hopefully wasn’t too many firearms in your house as he gets undressed and then his murmuring voice as he speaks to someone on the phone.  

You really didn’t have much by way of clothes still in this house, and even less that you would consider acceptable to wear with Elvis Presley in the room. You stare into your drawer for a little too long, willing for another choice to appear. Such magic powers are, apparently, beyond you however so there’s just the two options; a little chiffon babydoll set you’d left behind because it was now pretty much indecent, or a gingham flannelette set complete with embroidered teddy bear on the pocket. On the one hand the little babydoll set was pretty cute, but you were also freezing and warm cotton sounded appealing to your damp skin - but was being so bundled up really the image you wanted to give off to Elvis? He’d never seen you in anything but your very, very, carefully chosen outfits. You start to unbutton your shirt, determined you’d just have to freeze for the sake of fashion but as soon as the cool breeze hits your damp skin you change your mind, rapidly rubbing yourself down with a towel and changing into the snug flannelette of your winter pyjamas. When you come bouncing down the stairs he’s stood waiting for you, and you pause near the bottom, suddenly uncertain. He grins at you, reaching up to lift you down the last step, placing you right in front of him.  

He’s taken his glasses off, tucked them into the breast pocket of the shirt, and clearly had been trying to tame his wet, lightly curling hair, into some semblance of order, the newly long shagginess pushed back against his ears. The borrowed PJs swamp his frame, Elvis is far slimmer than your father, and when you look him over you have to stifle a giggle. The pants ending about two inches too short and stopping far above his delicate ankles and bare feet. He looks down at them himself, following your eyes, and where at home he might have been self-conscious, here he takes it in his stride, smiling back at you with his eyes sparkling.  

“Think I oughta wear this on stage?” He points his toes and you giggle, shaking your head, and gesture to the living room.  

“I don’t know... I think we’d make a good looking pair.” You pose with your hands on your hips, blowing him a kiss,  

“Uh-huh, sure, ‘specially with your lil’ bear there.” He flicks at the pocket on your chest and you blush,  

“They’re warm!” He grins, pushing back his hair,  

“They sure look it, you look snug as a bug.” He grabs your waist, pulling you into him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and you melt into his hold for a moment, before he pulls away, peering into the living room. You gesture,  

“Feel free to sit anywhere.” Elvis looks around before walking over and settling in the armchair, resting his ankle on his knee. You anxiously consider your options before settling onto the couch, feeling silly for being nervous in your own home. It’s silent for a moment, well, somewhat - Elvis humming to himself as he continues to look around - assessing the bookshelves, before he finally speaks up;  

“Don’t suppose you have any smokes ‘round here?” You shake your head apologetically,  

“No - My da-” Before you suddenly remember that you do, and go running off up the stairs, hoping you were right. You come sliding back down, socks slipping on the stairs much to Elvis’ amusement as you come racing back in, but he says nothing and gratefully accepts a proffered cigarette from the box you hold out.  

“Sorry, daddy doesn’t have any cigars - he doesn’t smoke.” You add on, as if otherwise you might have been embarrassed at not having any to offer. He shrugs,  

“S’ok, I don’t mind.” You go to put the box away and he shakes his head,  

“Jus leave it there - s’alright? Don’t of’fen smoke ‘em now-a-days but when I do, I uh, I’ll have a few.” He pauses as if remembering his manners, “If that’s alright?”  

“Oh of course - by all means.” You hand it back to him, sinking back down into the couch. He leans back, the picture of ease, studying you, a glint in his eye,  

“They your mama’s? I’ll replace ‘em.”  

“Oh no, she doesn’t either,” 

“You forget where you’d hidden them or somethin’?”  He says it delicately, and you can feel him teasing you - like he already knows. You inwardly cringe in embarrassment,  

“Uh, well, my parents didn’t like me to smoke - neither of them do, they’re not - they’re from before I went away, obviously, they were in my dresser still.” He grins at your bashfulness,   

“Sensible. I wouldn’t let my little gal smoke none either.” He offers you the box, and you shake your head at his gall at offering you your own belongings, but still take one, letting him light it for you. You sit for a moment, but the silence drags, and it gets all too much for you all too fast. You get up to turn on the television, but the signal keeps dropping no matter what you try to do, and eventually Elvis says,  

“Oh, look honey, just give it up - you gotta have somethin’ else we can put on? Look there’s your records over there,” He points to the player on the sideboard, and you readily agree. He sighs, pushing up to his feet and coming to stand next to you, crouching down to cast a judgemental eye over the collection. He pats your shoulder, pointing to what he wanted on, and you immediately obey.  

You sit back down, just for a second, before you realise you were starving. “Are you hungry?” You don’t even give Elvis the possibility to respond before you continue, “Sorry, silly question - I won’t be a minute, I’ll see what I can come up with.” You disappear, rummaging through the cupboards to compile as much of a meal as possible,  

“Well, there’s not much…” You bring in the tray, “But there’s pop-tarts!” Elvis looked it over, laughing -  

“Jeez honey, you got anything not rolled in sugar?” You blush,  

“Well sure but, it’s - I’m not a great cook Elvis,” He laughs, reaching over to grab a handful from the nuts you’d found, “Besides - there’s really not much here.”  

“Nah, nah, this is great honey, truly, great.”  You hand him a cup of hot cocoa, and he’s just as pleased with that as with his tray of exceedingly random snacks, and you settle on the floor by his feet with a deck of cards. He plays with your hair as you shuffle, swearing as the intimate moment is wrecked by your yelp at the strands catching on his chunky ring.  

Once you’re untangled you suggest gin, and you play for a couple of rounds, putting up with Elvis somehow winning every time before he sighs as if bored, picking up a book your father had left on the side. He opens it up, glancing at the pages, nodding in pleasure,  

He whistles, “Whoo, boy, your daddy’s got good taste - c’mon up here and I’ll read to you, baby.” You scramble up to clamber onto his lap, squealing as he tugs you onto him more than the chair, tucking your feet into the crease of the cushion and the arm and situating you into a comfortable position. You glance at the cover, internally groaning, it’s a WWII history, and you’d really rather not at this time of the night, but it’s harmless enough to let him drone on above you, his delicate cadence and deepening voice gentle on your ears. You don’t realise you’ve drifted off until he nudges you,  

“You’re not paying attention.” You wiggle your toes, yawning,  

“Sorry, sorry I am, ‘m just warm.” He snorts,  

“You were snoring,” You blush,  

“I don’t snore,” Elvis pokes your side as he laughs, nodding his head at you,  

“Oh, sure you do.” You frown - about to protest some more but he cuts you off before you can, “I think, I’ve gotta leave for the show in, uh, ‘bout eight hours, so prolly need to get some sleep.” It had gotten quite late, and while you wouldn’t admit to snoring, you had been asleep, so you readily agree.  

You hadn’t really thought about the sleeping arrangement past taking him up the stairs with you, just assuming you’d be in together - like you were at Graceland, or in the hotel but stood in the doorway of your bedroom with Elvis now you weren’t so sure. You have no idea what it is about your teenage bedroom making you feel nervous again, you’re an adult - you’ve spent more than enough nights in Elvis’ bed and yet for some reason you feel like you’re sixteen again, nervously sneaking a boy upstairs.  

He peers around you to investigate the room, assessing the floral wallpaper and curtains. He brushes past you to take a closer look, turning in a circle. You watch his brow furrow as his eyes land on the glossy magazine pages surrounding your mirror. It’s as if he can’t stop himself, nodding with self satisfaction as he puts the image of George Harrison face down onto your dressing table. He doesn’t seem to have the same issue with the images of his younger self. 

“Uh well, here we are. I guess if you have in here, I’ll go downstairs - or, I’ll go into my parents room.” He whirls around at your suggestion,  

“No, no, wanna stay with my girl in her bed, y’can’t leave me all on my lonesome inna new place; I might sleepwalk right outta here!” You shake your head, tummy flipping, even as you smile at his vehemence.  

“Well sure, but,” You gesture to the bed, “I forgot about this.” He frowns looking over at your pink, ruffled bed.  

“Forgot about what? ‘S not got clean sheets or something, honey?”  

“No, No, of course they’re clean!” Elvis smirks at your immediate outrage, “It’s just it’ll be uh…cosy. I forgot how small the - well, it’s not quite a full” You brace yourself for a second after you say it, forgetting that you’re not on the road with the boys at the moment, you’re in your home and he knows that. Knows that even if the situation would have normally caused him to pitch a fit he wouldn’t here. Here and now he’ll be on his best behaviour, and if you accuse him of acting any differently he’d deny it with a twinkle in his eye. You imagine how ridiculously polite he would be had your parents been home; “Why, this must be your sister! Thank you for having me over, I know it’s a real impo’sitshun.” and “Yes ma’am, you have a lovely home.” all, “No ma’am I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.” and of course why yes, he is a good southern boy. Although, if they had been, he probably wouldn’t be squeezing into your bed with you. Still that was probably unfair, he really had been on his absolute best behaviour all evening.  

“Cozy is a-ok with me, baby, y’don’t mind me getting real close do ya now?” He takes a step closer to the bed, patting the covers.  

“No, no but I - you’re used to, god your bed must be four times this - are you going to be able to sleep?” You ask, concerned, and he shrugs,  

“Prolly not - truth be told, but I don’t have my med’cation either. Hadn’t expected to be out very long.” Oh, of course. You frown continuing,  

“Oh - maybe it would be better then if we split up - it probably is too small for the both of us.” He shakes his head,  

“No, no, come sit over here now, listen here and I’ll tell you somethin’.” He pats the bed and you perch onto the side of it, watching him talk, “When I was little - just you know,” he gestures to his knees to indicate his height, “Momma an’ I used to share a bed that I’m pos-i-tive was small’r than this one.” He sits down next to you, leaning back on an arm to better look over it.  

“With your Mama?”  

“Yeah, yeah, we were - lord, we were poor as anythin’ and we just didn’t have no spare money for beds or, anything- and the like; while daddy was away ‘specially.” You didn’t know any of this,  

“Oh. That must have been hard.” It’s hard to imagine him as anything less than the expensive, gaudy, generous man in front of you. But then, it does make sense - no-one who’s that giving comes from money. 

“Well, you see, I s’pose I didn’t know any different - and I love my mother, I really do - did. That’s why I bought ma house, well, why I did everythin’ I suppose - it t’was all for her really.”  

“Oh - that’s, that’s really lovely Elvis.” He nods, a little sadly, shrugging,  

“Yeah, well, never mind. I know ‘s a little weird, but it weren’t anythin-” You interrupt his bashful commentary, hating the idea that this totally natural behaviour might be something he feels bad about.  

“I was 12 before I could fall asleep by myself - my mom had to lay with me, or daddy hadta read to me - so you know I don’t think that’s weird at all El, ‘specially if you didn’t have room.”  

“Yeah well, I was prolly a little too old by the time we could ‘ford a second bed, but it’s just like what you say - it weren’t anything strange.” You nod, pleased he seems less embarrassed. And wasn’t that just a wild thought - that Elvis might be the one embarrassed in your childhood bedroom.  

“Well, in any case, there’s no point being uncomfortable - maybe we should…maybe we should try my parents room?” Elvis shudders,  

“Sorry doll nothing ‘gainst your folks, but uh I don’t much like the idea of bein’ uninvited into someone’s bed…” You nod, standing back up and starting to tug down the sheets,  

“Well then, let’s give this a go…I’ll just go fetch the spare pillows.” He looks over at you incredulously,  

“Honey, you can’t possibly think we need more pillows?” He gestures to the overstuffed bed, “I’m not even sure how you fit in there with all of them!” You giggle,  

“I do!” You start to pull off the decorative ones, “Not these ones though - I don’t sleep with these, or those.” You point to the others, and he shakes his head as he joins you in throwing them onto the floor, leaving just the main pillows at the top. It still left five pillows though and Elvis shakes his head,  

“You got an itty-bitty bed and enough cushions for ten!” You laugh, defending yourself,  

“I just like to be cocooned!” You wriggle, as if imitating being wrapped up, and he laughs back at you, eyes crinkling as he watches you.  

“Cocooned! Well, you won’t need them tonight, can just sit’ate your bitty self right by me.” You smile, and he settles the nerves that were starting to swirl in your tummy as you’d continued to prepare the bed for both of you. “Seriously though - how’d you fit all these in?” He stands back, hands on his hips trying to picture your usual sleeping arrangement.  

“Well, I normally sleep on that one there, and then those two go on either side, and that one goes ‘tween my legs.” Elvis waggles an eyebrow, before placing the pillow you’d gestured to atop ‘his’ side of the bed.  

“Oh! and a friend!” As you tossed another cushion to the floor, the stuffed bunny tucked between the pillows had gone flying, you flush red at the sudden swirl of guilt as you watch Clarissa hit the floor, “Who’s this?” You force yourself to be nonchalant,  

“Oh Elvis - don’t tease me.”  

“I’m not teasin’ honey, you tryin’ tell me it’s not got a name?” He picks her up,  

“El, she’s no-one.” You shake your head,  

“Aha! A girl bunny!” He holds her aloft, “She’s mighty cute!”  

“Really - El, I don’t know how she got there again.” He sighs, tucking her under his own arm, whispering to her,  

“She’s gonna let you sleep out in the cold, yeah-huh, you’re right, it’s not right. You jus’ wanna be warm and fuzzy too don’t ya.” Though your tummy clenches at his teasing, the way he continues to have her tucked into his armpit, carefully placing her into the bed when you climb in and tucking her back into his chest makes you feel some soft sort of way. You climb in too, a little tense at first. It’s not like you’re unused to sleeping next to him, but there’s usually just a few minutes of cuddling before he rolls away across the vast expanse of mattress. But today he holds you close, arm wrapped around - your face smushed to his chest, it’s a little strange, the combination of him smelling like your home and him. Not that he has a choice but to hold you close - if either of you tried to roll away, you’d go clear off the side of the bed.  

“Goodnight Elvis,” You whisper, and he whispers it back to you, tucking his chin over your head. You try to settle your breathing, anxious to fall asleep as you feel his own breathing deepen as he settles in. He makes a little tutting noise a couple of times, and you worry you’re encroaching on his space, so you inch away, clinging onto the edge of the mattress.  

“Where y’going baby?” He mutters into your ear, “C’mon back here.” He rolls you into him,  

“Don’t wanna smother you.” He huffs a laugh, smoothing down your hair,  

“Wanna be smothered by you.” He settles with a happy hum, kissing your head again, and you relax your breathing, trying to will yourself to sleep.  

The way you’re tucked against him means every movement feels exaggerated, so when, a minute later he starts to kick his legs down you’re forced to just put up with the motion for a few moments - until it becomes a bit more vigorous;  

“El - stop.” He doesn’t stop, continuing to kick at the bedding. “Elvis! You’re kicking all the blankets off of me.” The motion ceases, but less because of anything you said and more because he’s succeeded in shoving the sheets to the bottom of the bed. He throws himself back, laying there on his back and dramatically panting as if in relief at the temperature change. You shudder in the chilly air, “Elvis! You can’t possibly be too hot, it’s - it’s practically freezing out there!”  

“You know I like it cool, hon.” You frown, tucking your knees up,  

“Well yeah? But I’m freezing!” He rolls his eyes, but tugs the sheets back over you, leaving one of his legs out.  

“There we are see, just cuz ‘m a gentleman.” He tugs you back to him, “Now, stop ya yabberin’ on and let me get some sleep.” You gasp in outrage -  

“Stop yabberin’!! It was you! You were the - “ Elvis hushes you, play snoring in your ear, and you snort back at him, settling with your back against his chest. You’re starting to drift off a little, not quite there, but not truly awake either, when his hand, that had been gently stroking your shoulder moves down to your waist. He snuffles a kiss against your shoulder, pushing the collar of your pyjamas down. Your eyes fly open,  

“Oh!” He hums behind you, pulling you closer and curling his arm across your abdomen. He mutters against your skin, whispering into your ear,  

“You gotta be all riled up, baby - I sure am, can hardly stand it, lying here all close to you.” He’s breathy on the hard consonants, breath tickling your skin,”Just need you, honey, need you real bad.” Whether it was intentional or not it sends shivers of arousal down your spine, tummy flipping as the heat begins to pool. His hand toys with the bow on your waistband, “Bet you’re close unner there, huh? Bet you’re right and ready for me,”  

“I’m - I’m…” You can’t think of anything past stuttering at him, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, and he moves his fingers to unbutton your shirt. It falls open, and he leans back just enough to pull it off - you allow him, docile as a doll and he returns to hug you, kissing your now naked back. 

“Gonna warm you up now, don’t you go worryin’ bout that, get you all nice and hot.” You wriggle against him, unsure what to do with your hands besides clasp at the sheets, “Mmhmm, that’s right baby, bet you’re all slippery already honey, aren’t you?” You gasp,  

“I think - I think so Elvis, god you’ve gotta touch me properly,” He giggles, slipping a hand into your cotton trousers. He brushes over the wiry hair there, gently twisting a curl with his finger. Stroking down, he rubs you with a single fingertip, between the seam of the trousers and your skin, and you rock into him, “El-Elvis, I swear, I’m good to go,” You can feel his smile against your skin,  

“Uh-huh, sure are, aren’t you? Feels like satin down here, you got satin skin baby?” You gasp at how his fingers dance over you,  

“What-whatever you say!” Elvis’ fingertips aren’t satin smooth against you, a gentle rough edge that cuts through the slipperiness of your slick folds enough to make your eyes flutter closed. He withdraws his other hand from where it had been curled around your shoulder, and a moment later you feel him against your back, tugging down his trousers and letting his already hard cock pop out. He rubs against you, almost as if inadvertently, and you arch your back with a moan, he wiggles himself down to better position himself, the whole while still gently petting you. 

Your eyes re-open as he growls, pulling his hand out and away to rapidly tug down your bottoms, letting you kick them off to the bottom of the bed, before clutching at you and tugging you even closer. You lock gaze with the judgemental beads of Clarissa and gasp out a giggle before reaching out to knock her flying to the floor,  

“I can’t - not with her watching.” Elvis laughs, the sound mixing into a groan as he presses into you. You’re wet enough for him to slide in, and the angle is gentle enough that you feel just the slightest hint of a stretch while he snugly fits in, rocking into you further and further.  

It’s not a position you’re usually in, and though he can’t really see you, you feel more self-conscious than you have with him before. Elvis’ hands rove over your stomach, and you’re unable to pull his arm up like you usually would, and instead his fingers are playing around the little overhang of your belly, brushing a finger on the sensitive skin there. “So soft doll, you’re like a little baby - so goddamn soft, I could, could just sink right into ya.” You gasp, it’s so antithetical to what you expected him to say,  

“Oh,” He hushes you, stroking your stomach again,  

“Lis’en to me, ‘m so lucky, honey,” You make a noise of agreement, “So lucky, you’re so goddamn pretty, y’hear?” Your leg moves of its own accord, up a little, giving him a little extra wiggle room that he quickly takes advantage of, continuing to rock into you. His hand on your stomach has slid down to stroke the crease of your thigh, reaching around to rub at your clit, and he leans down to kiss your shoulder and neck. You don’t expect it, enjoying the intimacy enough that you didn’t really care if you achieved it, but the feel of his lips on your neck, the speed of his hand, the rocking deep into you is all enough to cause your thighs  to clench, fists gripping the sheets as you ride out the shakes of a gentle orgasm.  

Elvis follows momentarily later. He stays where he is, curled around you, slowly slipping out his softening cock, breathily heavily against your back, his hand still stroking you even as he moves his arm to rest upon your stomach. His touch briefly disappears for a moment to swipe clumsily at you with your own trousers, and with the motion you find yourself suddenly bursting into overwhelmed tears. He immediately rolls you over to look at him,  

“Oh no, baby, what’s’a matter?” His eyes crinkle at you, “C’mon now, ‘nough of that,'' He wipes the tear tracks away with a thumb and you gulp at him, breath hitching as you find yourself unable to stop, “You’re too pretty to make yourself all red,'' He changes tact, attempting the stern tone that sometimes seems to work on the audiences. “C’mon, stop it now, take it easy.” He sighs, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you can’t stop yourself.  

“I’m,” Your voice wavers, “sorry - I don’t, don’t know - I’m so-“ He cuts you off, tugging you closer to him,  

“Alright, alright, you just stay there, just let it out, that’s it, c’mere, go on, I don’t mind.” He tucks you into his chest, “Shh, shh, didn’t meanta make you cry, honey - it’s alright.” He soothes, large palm stroking your back until you calm down into sniffles. God how embarrassing, you feel stupid for it - how silly can a girl be?  

“Oh nah, now, not silly, honey, ‘s just, just the effect I have on the girls I reckon, god knows why, but seems to be the case.” You hadn’t realised you’d said it aloud and you let out a watery giggle against the soft fuzz of his chest. “C’mon now, curl in and let’s go to sleep,” He shifts a little, to make it easier for you to practically lie on top of him, he tugs the covers around you, effectively tucking you in, shushing you when you start to sniffle again, before you drift off to the sound of his steady heartbeat.  

You awake with a start, the phone ringing insistently. You quickly realise, though, that it wasn’t the phone that had awoken you, but Elvis shouting on his back for,  

“Daddy!! God I swear, Charlie!! I swear to god man, I swear to god. Someone shut that damn phone up ‘fore I shoot the goddamn thing off the wall!” His eyes are still closed even as he roars out the order and you can’t help, now that your heart has stopped racing, but laugh at him. He sits bolt upright at the sound of your giggle, blinking in the daylight,  

“El - El, it’s my phone - you can’t go round shooting other people’s houses.” He flops back, just as dramatically as last night, patting at your thigh and back,  

“Oh lord… they’ll be wantin’ somethin’ offa me - go on then little’un - go see what they want.” The phone stops for a second, and you look over at the clock on your bedside, 12:04. 

“They’re probably going to say we’re late.”  

“Late? Nah, barely, barely slept, got plenty of time.” You throw the alarm clock at him as the phone starts up again and, grabbing your robe from the door on the way, you start to head down to answer it, leaving him swearing behind you. 

You regret picking it up, almost immediately being shouted at from the guys on the other end of the line. Whoever had been the one calling had been pleasant enough, for the brief “Hello” you’d been allowed before the receiver had been taken over by Red and you were now near tears again at the way you’re being spoken to, told off, and degraded for keeping him out. As if it were entirely your idea, and how you can forget about accompanying him on the rest of the tour. You were, according to Red, a goddamn liability - the monologue had just turned into questioning your motives, suggesting you were heading to the tabloids any minute when the phone was plucked out from your hands. You’d failed to notice, in the haze of trying to absently defend yourself, Elvis coming down the stairs.  

“You talk to all my girls like that?” As much as you enjoy his angry tone, you didn’t love being reminded in that moment that you were probably one of many. Still, his furious expression made your heart feel like it was pounding out of your chest, a deep glow emanating. There’s silence, then, “Whatever, man, I’ll talk to you ‘bout it later, not got time right now - ‘s the car ready? Gonna be late for this show else, Colonel’ll have my ass I swear, if that car ain’t out there -“ He pauses, “Well, why the hell not? Thought you’d have been - right, okay, well that’s what it’ll have to be - just get it out here in twenty.” He hangs up the phone without a goodbye, immediately turning to you and cupping your cheeks in his hands as he kisses you. “Pay him no mind, he don’t know what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.” You nod,  

“Ok, but Elvis - you know I would never; that’s not what I’m - “ He shakes his head,  

“I know, I told you - don’t listen to a word he says.”  You do your best, even as it reverberates around your head as you collect up your clothes from the dryer, watching Elvis redress. You wonder if you should go with him, where you’re so clearly unwanted, and though he doesn’t say anything you can tell Elvis thinks you’re being weirdly quiet. It’s barely any time at all before the car outside honks, and it’s time to leave. You make the last minute decision that you’ll see him to the car, but stay behind, but as if he can read your mind, after he climbs into the car Elvis turns to look back at you, 

“You’re comin’ too, baby, right?” He holds out an arm, and despite feeling the glare from the guys in the car, you grab onto it - your desire to stay with him outweighing any worries.  

taglist:

 @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @thatbanditquee @lookingforrainbows @whositmcwhatsit @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @shakerattlescroll @dkayfixates @18lkpeters @literally-just-elvis-fics

[therealslimshakespeare]

As Requested: The Birth of Jesse and Ella

From the Sarge and lil Mama Universe

Warnings: pretty darn fluffy and sweet with the exception of descriptions of birth and labor, along with what might be considered disturbing inclusions of period typical insensitivity towards women’s wishes during labor and mention of a husband stitch

Word Count: 5k…a blurb was requested, well, uh, sorry about that

With excerpts from:

October, 1958 Memphis

Birth was awful, Elaine had always heard it, been cautioned of it, had the warning dumped like ice water on her motherly ambitions. You want a lotta kids? -just wait till you have to push a single one out. Elaine had expected it to hurt worse than anything she ever imagined but somehow, she thought it would feel more natural than this.

The pain was terrifyingly foreign and without a single cessation to get on top of it, the contractions put broken bones and smashed flesh to shame, and the helpless urge to do something was a floundering and aimless desperation that filled her with anxiety so strong she could barely breathe from it. The nurse cupping the gas mask to her face smiled down assuringly and Elaine hated her for it, the gal was so sure all would be well when everything in Elaine’s body rebelled against the drugged misery, the flat back, stirrup strapped contortion the doctor had locked her body in and left her at.

She thought it would at least feel natural. Like pulling a tooth. Like taking a man. Like all the other painful rites of passage that women surmounted generation after generation.

But now, near puking from pain and cuffed like a psych prisoner to the bed, no distraction save the flicker off the fluorescent bulbs above her, Elaine felt a wrongness and a betrayal she never expected.

She’d been so agreeable to going to the hospital, never thought otherwise. The army had been accommodating enough to let them return to Memphis and everything, and here she lay giving birth in the same ward she was born in. It should have been sweet. She had assumed it would be and it had been non negotiable with Elvis, things were to be done properly for his babies, and she had no comparison to cause her to object.

Elvis lost his brother in a twin birth, a home birth, and nearly his mama too. Things had to be done properly. What else was his money for?

Elaine hadn’t thought to object. What else was there? Primitive squatting in the woods somewhere? She was a decent, suburban girl, she had passed through a successive graduation of establishments throughout her life, preschools and proms and community services and now she was at St. Joseph’s pushing out her first child in a condoned, sterile, proper facility. Elvis, cheated of such all American properness by his upbringing, often praised her teasingly for being “such an upstandin’ lil citizen”.

Somehow the pride didn’t manage to fill her this time. Just the wrongness of it all. She tried to think of Elvis in those first hours, how anxious he must be having been kept out of the room, how happy she’d make him by presenting two healthy children at the end of her feminine ordeal. She refused to accept the thought for anything going wrong. Women were made for this, and she had assumed a miraculous sort of sustenance and wisdom were given them during.

Laying rigid and wracked with pain on scratchy white sheets -Elaine had never felt so alone, not a shred of Divine motivation or husbandly encouragement left in her exhausted heart. Becoming frantic as the ordeal wore on, she found herself begging for some assurance, more than those spinster nurses and bored physicians could provide her. She begged for her mama, she begged for Dodger who had told her they’d do nothing more than torture her “in that big ole place.”

No visitors are allowed, Mrs. Presley -she was denied each time.

Dodger, as usual, had been right. And Elaine demanded she be let in. She was sure that her husband and his grandma had stayed in the waiting room, they weren’t far.

Bring Minnie Mae in -she was Elaine Presley, wife of Memphis’ own Elvis Presley, and if they denied her she’d ruin their hospital's name.

Bring her Dodger, she needed Dodger.

Dodger came in, in low, slung-back heels and a dress that was fashionable three decades ago, wrinkled bony hands and thin, hard set mouth. Elaine thought she’d seen an Angel.

“What do you want?” Dodger grunted down at her.

Elaine whimpered and shook her head, entirely unsure, she’d just wanted comfort or direction. “I thought you’d know what to do.” she explained in a wheeze.

“You push ‘em out.”

“I can’t.” Elaine sobbed, she physically didn’t feel capable of doing anything but enduring. She really had thought she’d be able to participate in her own delivery.

“What’s gonna make ya?” Dodger asked.

“I can’t do anything like this.” Elaine cried, yanking at her restraints.

“Wanna stand up?”

Elaine was startled at the suggestion and through the fog of pain and gas it sounded like a rebellion of sorts. She hesitated. “Maybe.”

“You ever shit layin’ down?” Dodger put it ever so delicately in clearer, enlightening terms. “No one can ‘nless they got the runs. Baby’s head ain’t no runs, get up.”

Dodger had yanked the straps off and threatened to use the forceps on the objecting nurse. She stood Elaine up with a yank to the girl's arms and spun her round till she was facing the bed, feet spread apart and hands on the bed, head hanging low and her back heaving in breaths now the position allowed her to breath. She’d taken Elvis this way a hundred times, nothing to it -you just hang your head and tilt your hips and breathe through it till the cock didn’t feel so big.

This she knew. “Ok, ok, it is better.” she agreed even as a scream tore out of her at the burning stretch down below.

That stretch had been Jesse’s head, although in the midst of agony and Bureaucratic chaos, Elaine didn’t know anything beyond fiery stretching and a gush down her legs. His little noggin almost hit the floor he slid out so lanky and tiny, no sooner had she register a modicum of relief from passing her first child than the doctor berated her.

“Almost hit his head, this is why we labor in beds.” he had said and she could have gnawed his balding head off his scrawny neck for using the word “we” when he’d never felt or ever would feel what she had just endured. “She’s torn, a lot actually, going to be a mess to clean up later but I guess it will help the next one.”

They took Jesse and they wiped him clean as his first cries sounded somewhere behind his mama, Dodger’s hand still pressed firmly to her lower back as Ella used his newfound vacancy to make an effort herself. Elaine struggled and twisted, trying to catch sight of her son.

“I want my baby.” she gasped, “Y’all give me my baby.” she stood straight with an effort that even Dodger tried to prevent. “I want my baby!”

“You can’t hold him now-“

“Give him to me-“

“Elaine honey,” Dodger shushed as gently as the old bird knew how, “you’re too weak, can’t push and hold. Let ‘em put him on the bed. Put him there, right in front of ya, yeah, that’s it, so you can see him. Just do it, ya pinstriped idiot, it’s her kid, ain’t it?”

When the nurse laid Jesse down on the sheets, he was a dark haired, swaddled little thing in a bloody towel. Tiny but not so shrimpy for a twin, he was red and purple all over with the puffiest little face and the juiciest little lips and a tiny nose and eyes that squinted shut in tears. His cord was still attached to her, hanging off the bed between her legs, the tether not yet cut. Elaine felt it to be the specialist moment in the world, that one right then.

Oh it’s an unaccountable thing, that rush of gratitude and relief when your first born is laid on you. Violent love surges after it, quick as a tidal wave, as a tiny hand still covered in your blood pats your skin to learn you from the outside this time, the only person who’s ever done it opposite from all others. It's immeasurable the strength that frail little being gives you, to push once more, to bring out another life after it, a twin to reunite the Trinity.

“My son” Elaine acknowledged the gift through the agony, her sweaty forehead against his fuzzy one, watching his brave little face take in the lights and sounds and pain of this life she’d given him with a wonder that steeled her as she braced and pushed again.

Ella was easier, in the way someone at the brink of their worst feels no exacerbation of their agony. It was every bit as bad and every bit as tiring, doubly so with one already done, but this time Jesse lay there with an oxygen cannula taped to his fuzzy cheek and watched his mama huff and grimace above him, her hips cradled by Dodger’s boney hands, and in between the increasing spams, Elaine gasped adorations and babbled welcomes to him. After a short time Jesse snoozed in his little cacoon, and his peacefulness was more calming than any breath coaching the staff could give her. She matched her breaths to the rise and fall of his tiny chest and soon enough when she felt between her legs, there was the furry little head of his sister.

This time the doctor was prepared and had a nurse knelt to catch Elvis’ Presley second child. Little Ella came out the opposite of Jesse, no trouble at all with her petite head but a decent belly and buttox in the little girl gave Elaine a brief bit of grief before she popped out entirely.

Ella may have been caught in the safe hands of a registered nurse but Elaine had no such luck. No sooner was the rush over and her impediments pushed out of her body than she staggered backwards and landed flat on the floor, her legs giving out. Dodger’s shins caught the back of her head and saved her from splitting her skull on the tile but it was a brutal jarring nonetheless and it cemented a terrified horror where Elaine felt that she was entirely neglected in a room full of people sworn to help her.

Dodger, bless her, cursed up a storm at the accident and knelt beside the poor girl, doing her best to gather Elaine up as blood and fluids gushed freely between her legs.

Elaine felt like sobbing. Soon she fully was and remained so as the Doctor and two nurses hefted her onto the bed as gingerly as they could, profusely apologizing to Mr. Presley’s new wife. Jesse was placed on her chest and Ella, after having the cord snipped and washed, bundled and had her foot stamped, was brought over, too. Elaine laid there on her back again, eighteen hours after she had first begun and did her best to hold them as the sugar crash and blood loss made her teeth chatter and limbs tremble.

“A healthy five pounds both of them,” the doctor beamed with the satisfaction of a man who had accomplished a hard day’s work, “although the boy has a couple points on the girl.”

They were perfect, they were positively perfect, that’s what Elaine tried her best to focus on as her bearings came back to her and tiredness drug her limbs down. They were perfect and they were here. “Dodger,” she addressed Grandma in a thin voice, not even bothering to send her request to the staff, “would you go tell Elvis they’re here? Tell him they’re perfect.”

“He can’t come in yet, dear!” The head nurse protested, knowing the mulish young man would be forcing entry as soon as he heard.

“Why not? It’s over.” Elaine sighed.

“We’ve got to clean you up!” The nurse was scandalized, “He mustn’t see you all disheveled like this, it can very negatively effect a man, seeing his wife rumpled and brutalized by the birthing process. It's ended some marriages.” She warned and then added, “And you must be stitched first.”

“Then could we please -do it?” Elaine asked, “I’d like to see my husband and I’d like him not to worry any longer.”

“Y’all clean her up,” Dodger motioned, “and I’ll go fetch him.”

They were applying ice towels to her swollen eyes to reduce the evidence of weeping when she left. They sat Elaine up and they checked her pulse and blood pressure and her temperature. All was well, or as well as could be hoped. All except down south with her house, Elaine chewed her lip anxiously and clutched little Jesse harder for comfort as the doctor inspected her, rather like Elvis had done when proposing. Except Elvis was always so tender and he worked his touches up from gentle to firm, never went right in and spread torn petals apart without a care. Elaine bit her lip and figured she’d been awful enough to the staff, harsh and stubborn, a rebel in so many ways and now her ordeal was over, it would be best to resume the proper attitude she’d been taught.

So she was meek, and she was obliging and grateful, and she tiredly agreed when the doctor said she’d need stitches, the same as any other tear to the flesh. And when, lamp beaming at her nether regions and needle in hand, the doctor told her he was going to add one extra little stitch for her husband's enjoyment, Elaine assumed it was a medical formality. After all, he didn’t ask if he could, he said he was going to, and doctors only do what doctors must. She had her babies now, and anything required to have more must be done.

Sat up on stitched and taut flesh, pillows stuffed behind her back and her face scrubbed into immaculate freshness, Elaine put on her widest smile for Elvis, not a hard thing to do with the gifts in her arms. It turned fully genuine as her man burst through the door only to stall and moderate his intensity the minute he realized he had arrived. Elvis looked bewildered, eyes wide as saucers and his long legs stumbling to a halt as the door thudded behind him in Vernon’s face, assessing every bit of equipment inside and potential threat before his eyes landed on the bed that held his new family.

Elaine could hear his intake of breath from across the room and her grin now threatened to split her face.

“Those our babies?” he asked hoarsely with a shaking finger, not making a single move to come closer. Like this whole ordeal had him so shaken he didn’t know which way was up or down.

“Yeah baby, they’re ours.” Elaine had to force her smile closed to talk, marveling at his timidity, the awed look on his face and the reverent little shakes coursing up his body like he was about to go up Mount Sinai and meet God. “Come meet your children, Elvis.” she whispered, framing it in a way she hoped would remind him he too belonged in this room, he was head of them all, their protector, their provider and perhaps most importantly, the architect of the dream that brought them into being. “They wanna meet their daddy, keep lookin’ around and fussing like they know someone’s missing.”

He gave her a look of reproof for fibbing to spare his feelings before one of the babies came to their mother’s rescue and let out a pitiful, newborn wail. Elvis flinched at the sound, drawing back into himself for a brief moment before the cry was repeated and his instinct to soothe dominated his tentative fear.

“See, I told you!” Elaine grinned as she pulled down the blanket little Jesse was swaddled in and showed his puckered face.

Slowly, with light footfalls and a hand running along the bed for support, Elvis drew closer until he was beside them and Elaine saw his face light up with more overwhelmed joy than she’d ever seen on him before, just as his eyes filled with tears in an instant.

“Oh Laney,” he put his hand to his mouth unsteadily, “you done good mamas.”

She did her best to scoot her legs over without wincing and nodded to the vacated little space on the bed. “C’mon Elvis, they don’t bite. Not yet.” she whispered, casting a glance at the nurse who was peddling soundlessly in the far corner, back turned and utterly discreet, waiting if she were needed at any moment.

“I’m jus’ worried ‘bout breakin’ ‘em.” he confessed, gingerly sitting down beside her, his eyes never wavering in their metronome bounce from one child to the next and back. “They’re so little, so fragile lookin’ and -a-and they’re so pink, baby, look how pinks and fluffy they is.” Elaine thought his wide-eyed, rosebud mouthed awe was rather identical to the faces he was admiring and understood his shock, pretty things take the wind out of you. “I-I-I was so damn scared of touchin’ you, you’re so lil and gentle a-a-and they’re even littler!”

“I’ve never seen a more tender man, you’ve got fingers so delicate they could undo a knot in silk thread.” Elaine disagreed, “You should feel their cheeks, even softer than they look.”

Elvis swallowed hard, screwing up his courage before he raised his hand from where it had been wiping sweat off on his pants and brought it dried and shaking to gently run along the curve of Ella’s tiny face.

He little out a little gasping laugh. “Angels, they’re gen-u-ine angels.” He pronounced softly after rubbing his forefinger along Jesse’s tiny nose. “Ain’t nothin’ made me happier than I am right this minute.” he realized and Elaine’s heart clenched in gratification for the success of all her labor. “God took away one, gave me three back.” he huffed in a breath and realizing he needed a handkerchief, pulled his hand back, looking around in the white sheets like one would appear. The kindly nurse took pity and brought one over wordlessly, Elvis was a little shocked to find her present, not registering her existence in the room before, (as was she to meet Elvis Presley wordlessly with a proffered tissue) but he took it gratefully.

“Would you like to hold one of them, Mr. Presley?” she asked after having given Elaine some water as Elvis still sat where he’d perched himself and stared like he was looking into a portal.

“C’mon daddy.” Elaine whispered, nudging his stiff leg with her foot, “they wanna meet their daddy.”

Elaine suggested Jesse be the one as he’d eaten most recently while Ella was having some trouble latching. The nurse took Jesse from his warm little cocoon at Elaine’s side, and brought him around the bed to his daddy, who carefully formed a cradle with his arms and the nurse deposited his son there.

“Yeah, give me my boy.” Elvis nodded through parched lips and shuddered as he felt the tiny weight of his child settle in his arms, tiny head cradled to his chest. “Hey buddy,” he whispered, head reared back and expression a little frozen, like he was either holding something very dangerous or something very good that could be taken back at anytime, “sorry bout all the racket in there.” he referred to his pounding heart right beneath Jesse’s pink ear, “S’just that I’m so glad to meet you. Been waitin’ so long.”

Elaine watched them happily, exhaustion and satisfaction turning her complex feelings into the most rudimentary emotions and thoughts. “We made these.” she marveled and thought she heard the nurse titter for a moment, “Does everyone say that?” She asked her with a laugh.

“Not uncommon.” The woman agreed bashfully, “Me and my man did. Couldn’t stop saying it.”

“Absolute miracle.” Elvis protested, growing bold enough the thumb as Jesse’s cheek as he held him, “We made ‘em alright, strangest thing, the way I’m holdin’ something that’s half me and half you!”

“Made duplicates just in case.” Elaine added her joke and they both laughed.

“Sweet Jesus I think he just cracked a smile.” Elvis’ laugh was suddenly cut short as he wheezed in fascination.

“Babies usually don’t smile until much later.“ the nurse soothed gently but Elvis interrupted with an adamant-

“-well it appears that my son is extra smart, ma’am.” He grinned down at his boy with an immense amount of pride at his good humor which reminded him of his pride in Elaine and his eyes flitted up to hers and locked there. “You know I love you, Tink, but I-I-I- d-don’t think you’ve got the vaguest notion h-h-how grateful I am to you right this minute. You’re makin’ dreams come true like a goddamn fairy. I-I-I can’t say enough I-I don’t got words for it I just -I’d die for you, girl, and you and our babies ain’t ever gonna want for nothin’, I swear it.”

Elaine had never trusted another human being more in her life than she trusted this young man sat on her bed, about as young and lost as herself but so determined that she hadn’t a single choice or doubt except to believe him.

Ella began to fuss and the nurse asked if she wanted to try feeding again, no doubt the baby girl was hungry and Elaine agreed. “Here, Mr. Presley, I’ll take the little boy so you can go.” she helpfully held out her arms but Elvis clutched his precious bundle like she was gonna take him permanently. Elaine was reminded of a story Miss Gladys used to tell her about baby Elvis and a prized sack of bananas.

“I-I-I don’t wanna give him.” Elvis settled for this moderate expression of his sentiments on the subject.

“But sir -your wife needs to nurse. I'm sure they’ll extend the visiting hours for you, no need to worry on that account.”

“Oh I’m not leavin’ for that ma’am.” he clarified breezily, “I hold eatin’ in mighty high regard and I’d like to see to it my daughter finds her footin’ in it, ya see.”

“But-“ the nurse was rather astounded at this simple logic and in torn loyalties she turned back to Mrs. Presley in concern “-wouldn’t you like some privacy, ma’am? We’ll have to…uncover you.”

Elaine looked at her a little puzzled before assuring softly, “I don’t mind, he’s seen me before.”

The nurse colored at this modest statement that spoke so much and Elvis wasn’t sure if she was taken aback at their comfortableness around each other or at the suggestion of The Elvis Presley and his little wife making babies. Half the nation were obsessed with what they did behind closed doors and Elvis eyed her suspiciously lest she turn into some sorta fascinated personage. She didn’t though, she allowed Jesse to remain with his father and, rather more delicately than necessary, helped Elaine with Ella’s latching.

There had been dribbles of milk that Elvis had seen before Elaine gave birth, but it was nothing like the profusion that poured out now, so much sustenance that Ella’s tiny throat made great gulping sounds as she drank. Elvis, much to the nurse’s horror, was fascinated by it and soon found his old boldness, scooting himself up till he was sat beside Elaine in the narrow bed and could support her elbow while watching. The nurse was made more uncomfortable when the new father took to whispering a thousand different thanks and endearments into his young wife’s ear, and sweet as it was, the aggressive smooches she answered him with were of the sort the nurse was usually of the assumption led to more. But not with this couple, they swapped affection easily, too easily, and shared sentiments and compared their two children for the next hour, pointing out features and guessing at characteristics until the nurse quietly took her leave, stumbling into a barricade of men outside waiting on their boss.

“You should sing to them.” Elaine suggested to him once she’d gone, when Jesse wouldn’t stop fussing when it was his time to burp. “They’ve heard it for nine months, worked with the kicks every time.” she recalled and Elvis smiled sheepishly in reminiscence that those little kicks he’d once poured his heart out to were now little souls laying in his arms with his features printed on them.

At the first swooping and softly sung words of ‘My Father’s House’ by their daddy both babies stilled and their little slits of eyes searched restlessly until they found his face and they stayed staring at him until their violet, paper thin eyelids fluttered closed in sleep.

————————————————-

|| Excerpt from Mrs. Presley and Other Living Martyrs:||

“There was a narrow window in the door he’d rather uh, rudely let slam behind him,” Billy Smith would later recall with a smile, “and you best believe the whole lot of us were pressed up to it trying to get a glimpse of them inside. We were all real excited about the babies and we knew Elaine was a champ but it’s one thing to think about it and it’s another for her to do it and be alright after. We were all worried for her, last time we’d been in this hospital it had been with Gladys. So we were all crowding the window and Vernon and Mr. Phipps were actin’ like teenagers with their elbows jabbin’ at each other for space but this one time the grandpas seemed to be actually jokin’ about it. Granny tried gettin’ us to leave ‘em be but it wasn’t like we were disturbin’ them none, they didn’t mind us one bit and it was the sweetest thing watchin’ them pass a baby back and forth and they were gigglin’ so much one minute then cryin’ the next. EP was an absolute mess, he was so happy. They looked like a couple of kids clutchin’ a candy haul they stole and figured someone was gonna come along and say they were too young for ‘em and had to give ‘em up. Just two kids really, two kids with a couple of babies they’d made. Not sure they’d ever had such a normal moment in their lives, not since he got famous, at least. They stayed like that for a couple of hours ‘till Elvis realized he could have some fun introducin’ his new kids and so he came out the door holding little Jesse above his head like he was the damn Prince of Memphis. The whole hallway was jam packed with folks who were visiting their hospitalized relatives, loitering staff, all sorts, everybody havin’ heard she was here delivering, and the whole place erupted when he brought the baby out, said that him and his sister were well and Miss Elaine was in fine shape. That applause must’ve been real gratifying for Mrs. Presley.”

Ten days were encouraged for the new mother to stay in the hospital but after five Elaine found herself anxious and uncomfortable away from her home and she begged Elvis to make the staff let her come home.

“Elvis was never more besotted with Elaine than when she was pregnant, and it only got worse when she’d just popped out a kid and was holding it and asking for something.” Joe Esposita wrote, “She talked him into making them send some staff to Graceland and letting her out early, and she swore she’d let him carry her up and down any stairs for the next week. So, after he made her sign a drink coaster that said as much, he went and charmed the administrator into sparing a doctor and four nurses to come live at Graceland for 10 days. We later learned the staff had flipped coins to see who got to go, everyone was so eager to see the famous couple up close. ”

Five days after delivering, Elaine got her wish and was wheeled out of the maternity ward in a wheel chair and down the hall to the elevator, a pristine and glamorous figure with a baby swaddled in her arms as her handsome husband strode by her side, wearing his uniform on leave as suggested by the Colonel, and carrying a precious bundle himself.

In “TLC: The Presley Way” -Marie Presley’s documentary of her family’s life- Ella recounted having often heard from her mother the story of Elvis preparing her to leave for home.

Ella recounted: “She would often tell me about how daddy had come up to the room with all these bags. He’d already brought so much stuff over during her stay, they had to haul literal baskets full of possessions and gifts and stuffed animals out of her ward back to Graceland when they moved out, it had been like a hotel stay, collecting so much. But he did come up that day with these pretty pink bags and he was so excited, he tore the tissue paper out himself and showed her this absurdly fluffy white coat he’d bought. It was way too heavy for October but it was a little chilly out and it gave her the perfect excuse to wear it. It was made out of arctic foxes and was the fluffiest, most expensive, whitest thing you’ve ever seen and it hid her swollen figure perfectly, made her look like an angel in the press pictures. Mama said he also brought a little makeup kit, and there was hairspray and curlers and combs in the other bag, and daddy sat on her hospital bed while she was in a chair and he carefully painted her face. She always loved telling about how sweet and careful he was about her image, she said she had felt very humiliated and out of control during the labor, and it was like he was putting her back together, making her familiar to herself again, crafting some dignity back. And -you’ve seen the pictures, she’s perfection, her makeup is flawless and he had swooped her hair back from her face so she’s glowing. Even tied it back with that little ribbon, it’s just so much, I mean -she looks like a doll carrying out smaller dollies from the hospital. And of course later the female press would slam her for making something as hard as birth and children look like dollhouse props but like a lot of things, they didn’t realize it came from love. It came from daddy caring about how she felt, how she wanted to be presented, they both had a lot of pride and were complementary in that way. She had just delivered twins and was about to meet half of Memphis on the curb before going home. Can you really blame her for letting her husband make her up? Can you blame him for pouring out his pride in what she’d done through his art?”

Along with tender care and as much provision for her comfort as possible, it would be Elvis Presley’s last gift to his wife before he left for Germany less than two weeks later.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo 💋

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[ellie-24]

Just A Fan

A/N: I recently saw all the 1977 Hawaii pictures again and oh they make me so soft every time. His health failed him, his personal life frustrated him, but he looked so happy and relaxed on this (last) vacation and really enjoyed himself.

Sooo I had to write a little something for dear Big Daddy Elvis. It's literally just horribly self-indulgent fluff. Enjoy!

This is also a veeeeery late response to the writing prompt: "Isn't that mine?"

Word count: 3.3 k

March 11th 1977, Polynesian Cultural Center, Hawaii

Cara noticed him right away. Of course, she's been looking for him. Word got around at campus that he would be here tonight and to say she was exited would be an understatement. Unfortunately she of course wasn't the only one who heard about it. She already dreaded the masses that would form around him, waiting to get a glimpse.

Others might say they wouldn't have recognised him right away when he entered the open-air pavilion. In fact, at first it seemed like nobody noticed him at all.

His jet black hair and sideburns more grown out and partly hidden beneath a white, frizzy bucket hat. The sparkly, heavy jumpsuits he usually wore replaced by a comfortable looking light track suit, emphasising the sight swell of his belly. Beautiful blue eyes hidden behind tinted glass. She hoped he'd take them off, even if just for a second so that she could see them. It's not like never seen his eyes, she'd stared at them longingly for hours and hours, never growing tired of them.

Whether she was staring at his face on one of the numerous records she owned, pausing his movies to fully take in a particularly cheeky expression that she loved so much or just sitting in front on the many, many posters on the walls of her dorm room, pretending he was looking right back at her.

He looked different. Different than he looked on stage, different than he looked on those posters, different than he looked 10 years ago. She was very well aware of that. The whole public was aware of it. Not only aware of it, but bothered by it, apparently.

The amount of mean spirited headlines she's read, plastered at the front of cheap tabloids at the gas station, at the supermarket, seemingly everywhere she went. Everywhere for the entire world to see. Surrounding, following, haunting her.

Cara never understood it. Her love for him never faltered, after obsessing over him throughout her whole childhood her fate was finally sealed when she saw him live for the first time in 1972. She was just 15 years old and she vividly remembered begging her parents for weeks, months to take her to the concert. Two more followed in 1974 and 1975 and each time she just fell in love with him more and more. Since moving to Hawaii for university she hasn't had the opportunity to see him again. But now he was here, closer than he'd ever been before and she felt like a giddy teenager again.

Cara pondered for a while, tugging at the hemline of her short sun dress, her eyes laser focused on him the entire time. The native dances presented on stage weren't the main attraction, at least not for her. There were of course whispers in the audience with most people risking a short glance towards the King of Rock'n'Roll sitting among them, but nobody really dared to approach him and instead appreciated the actual show. It was refreshing to see him as part of an audience enjoying other people's perfomances.

In a motion she didn't quite register herself she got up and started walking. She wouldn't talk to him. No, she really didn't want to bother him when he was on vacation, with his guard down. He seemed so content not having to perform at the moment and she didn't want him to feel like he had to just for her. It's just that she wanted to see him up-close. And if she had to pretend to go to the bathroom to walk past him, coming as close as possible even if it was only for a passing glance, she'd do that.

"Hey, isn't that mine?" She heard him say when he was within earshot. He looked at the brown-haired man sitting next to him, who she quickly recognised as Charlie Hodge. Elvis snatched a glass of what looked like orange juice from his hand and laughed as he brought it to his lips, leisurely sipping on it.

Cara halted against her will, freezing at the spot. Seeing him like this, so relaxed and carefree was a wonderful sight and she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.

He suddenly rose from his seat and she urged her body to move and not just stand there and stare at him like a complete lunatic. He had his head turned back towards his group as he walked nearly bumped into her, only catching himself last second.

"Oh sorry, honey, I didn't see ya there." He gave her a quick once over and promptly beamed at her, making a pleasant shiver run down her spine. "Ain't ya just a sweet little thing?"

Cara's eyes widened as she realised he just talked to her. He just talked to her. She wanted to say a million things but the words got stuck in her throat. This was it. Her chance to talk to Elvis Presley and she was about to mess it up.

It seemed like hours passed where she just stared up at him, not able to utter a damn word. Head spinning, she felt her knees going weak.

"Hey honey, ya alright?" His voice was now latched with concern and she continued staring up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

Her mind raced, trying to think of something to say, preferably something smart. At least she managed to open her mouth now, but only a little squeal came out. It would've been better if she'd just kept her mouth shut entirely. The spinning got worse and her ears started ringing as the moment dragged on and on. His beautiful, more than familiar voice became a dull background noise and she couldn't make out what he said.

"Aww, you're a little nervous? Don't got no reason to, sweetheart, promise. I won't bite, okay?" He drawled with his signature charming half smile.

Cara has dreamed of embracing him her entire life. How many times she's pictured it, holding him, letting him hold her. Being so close to him, pressing her body against his, feeling his warmth. She's thought of this scenario at least a thousand times. Her arms around his neck as he kneeled over the edge of the stage, leaning down to give her a kiss.

Never in a million dreams it would've occured to her that the first time she'd hug Elvis Presley would be because her legs went limp and she had to physically hold onto him to prevent herself from falling as her vision blurred.

He momentarily grunted as she leaned against him for support. "Hey, hey, honey, careful. I gotchu, you're alright." His arms wrapped around her middle, holding her steady before moving her towards a cushioned seat. He sat down with her splayed sideways across his lap, her back resting against the armrest.

Once he had her settled on his sturdy thighs he extented one arm and gestured around as if shooing away somebody. "It's okay, Charlie, I got her." He rasped, sounding a bit winded.

His scent surrounded her as she was pressed against his soft, yet strong body. An immediate feeling of comfort and safety rushed through her and she subconsiously tried to get even closer to him.

His whole body vibrated when he cleared his throat and she gasped when he shifted again, adjusting his grip on her. Now her head rested against his shoulder, if she moved just a little bit lower she could probably feel his heart beating rapidly.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" His voice was calm next to her ear.

"Cara." She whispered, black spots still dancing before her eyes.

He nodded, his whole attention on her. "Cara, that's nice. I'm Elvis."

She blinked up at him. Had he really introduced himself right now? "Yes, I know that." She breathed, her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and wonder and her eyes shining.

He chuckled softly and carefully brushed some strands of hair from her sweaty forehead. "Now, Cara, I want ya to take some deep breaths, okay?"

She did as she was told as best as she could and slowly her head felt a little less fuzzy. He's pulled down the zipper of his track suit somewhat, exposing his wide chest, golden chains resting over the thick, dark hair.

This had to be a dream.

"Honey, what are ya doin'?" He asked when he saw her fingers digging into her waist, his voice a bit alarmed. He removed his shades to give her a stern look.

Cara swallowed hard when she looked into his eyes and her voice trembled when she spoke up. "Pinching myself."

It took him a moment to register but then started laughing heartily, his belly shaking against her. "You're a cute little thing."

She's essentially passed out in Elvis Presley's arms. She wanted to die. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his whole entourage staring at her, assessing the situation. They must think she's completely crazy. "Oh god, this is so embarrassing."

"Nah, no reason to be embarrassed, little one." He murmured and threw a look over his shoulder, waving the curious onlookers off, telling them with a glare to mind their own business.

"I'm sorry." She attempted to get up, despite her ears still feeling like someone stuffed cotton in there, but he quickly tightened his hold on her before cupping her chin.

"Don't apologise, little. Ya just gonna stay here for just a minute."

She'd stay for the rest of her life if he'd let her. In theory. But she really didn't want to make this even more awkward and weakly shook her head. "Uh-"

"Those little legs and feet are still a bit weak." He interrupted her with his strong hand moving towards her thighs, rubbing and squeezing her softly, silencing her in an instant.

For a moment she just stared up at him, lost in the gentle and caring look in his eyes. She had to, she just had to do it, she thought as she reached up and gently cupped his cheek. The feeling of his soft skin against hers made her jump, still not quite believing that this was really happening.

His fingers moved to brush over her ankle, toying with the clasp of her platform sandals. "Gotta take these off, don't want you to fall the second I set you down again."

Cara just nodded and continued to stare up at him, her eyes moving rapidly as she tried to take in every little detail. The way his plush lips hung open the tiniest bit. The way his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he worked on her shoes.

When he tilted his head slightly and offered her a view of his neck she could see black strands of hair sticking out from beneath the hat. Just as she wanted to start playing with them he turned his head back and looked down, catching her studying him. From that angle she could see his small double chin.

"Not even close." She whispered to herself, barely audible.

"What's that, honey?" He asked and briefly leaned over her to put her shoes aside.

"Not even close." She repeated and blushed as she realised she had to explain her thoughts now. "I mean, uh, seeing your face on screen, or from a distance when you're on stage." She shrugged. "It doesn't even come close."

"What, the wrinkles so bad?" He joked, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Cara shook her head. "Doesn't come close to how beautiful you are."

He leaned in closer with his lips pursed and brushed through her hair as if inspecting her scalp. "Ya sure ya didn't hit your pretty head somewhere?"

"No, I didn't. I really mean it." She whispered with a frown, not liking his self-depracating comments.

He paused and looked down with a bashful smile after a few seconds. "Oh, thank you, sweetheart, that's, uh, a-awfully kind of you."

"Just honest." She shrugged and carefully ran her fingers over his cheek again, through the course, yet soft hair of his thick side burns and wiped away some of the sweat that had gathered there.

"Stop, honey, it'll go to my head." He gently chided her as she kept complimenting him.

"I hope so."

He averted his gaze and resumed to stroke her ankle, gently massaging it now. There was a bit of pink on his cheeks and Cara marveled at the fact that she was able to make him flustered.

"You know, when I was at one of your concerts two years ago a girl next to me passed out as well and I had to take care of her for like twenty minutes. I was so angry at her." She let out a small laugh at the chaotic memory.

"You've been to one of my concerts?"

"I've been to three." She nodded with a proud smile.

He raised one eyebrow. "Three? Lord, should have saved that money for college, little one."

"It was worth it..." She trailed off, not sure if she had the nerve to continue talking.  "I always hoped to get a kiss, at least a scarf. Each time... But I never quite made it to the front."

"Aww, honey." He cooed ruefully as if he was personally responsible for her bad luck. As if it truly bothered him.

It was only a second later that she felt his pillowy lips against hers. Butterflies erupted in her stomach and she froze while he casually made her biggest dream come true. He didn't just peck her lips, instead he lingered, even added a bit more pressure until she closed her eyes with a sigh.

They were complete strangers, yet the connection between them was very palpable as he kissed her slow and gentle, his finger grazing along her jaw. His breath fanned over her cheek and tickled her slightly, causing her to squirm a bit in his arms, but his soothing touches on her body calmed her down somewhat. When he finally pulled away from her the dizzy feeling returned and she squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again, blinking a bit disoriented.

Elvis saw the colour draining from her face again for a second and let out a small laugh. "Stay with me, sweetheart." He softly patted her cheek.

"Uh-huh." She responded, waving away. "No, yeah, I'm good."

He looked back to Charlie on instinct, his head whipping around, before turning back to her. With a frown he slowly scratched his neck, looking regretful. "I don't have a scarf, little. Uh, I-I'll give you this. That okay for you?" He removed one of the golden rings he was wearing, pulling it from his ring finger and holding it out to her.

"Oh, no I can't take it." Her eyes widened and she raised her hands in protest.

"But now I want ya to have it." He slipped it onto her thumb, and gently held her clammy hand in his, completely engulfing her.

Cara stared at the glittery piece of jewelry on her hand, the metal still warm, wondering what she'd done to deserve this. "Oh, thank you." She choked out, tearing up a little.

He drew circles over her temple in a calming way. "You're welcome, sweetie."

"I'm a mess." She laughed nervously and closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing. "I'm talking to Elvis Presley and I'm a mess."

"Shush, little, you're not a mess. I don't wanna hear any of it."

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head and ran his thumb over her lips, making her breath hitch. "Now, what are ya being sorry for? Quit apologising, okay? I get to hold a pretty girl in my arms. Made it worth to come here in the first place." He chuckled in an attempt to cheer her up, to make her smile.

Now it was Cara's turn to blush furiously and his grin widened. "Finally got some colour in your face again. You're feeling a bit better, honey?"

That was a good question. Was she feeling better? She wanted to weep, laugh and yell at the same time, but he didn't need to know that. Instead she just put a hand to her burning forehead and smiled a little. "I think so." Her voice sounded a bit hoarse, the emotions still overwhelming her.

Elvis made no attempt to get up however, let alone loosen his grip on her and continued to gently massage her bare calf, apparently not yet ready to part with her. Luckily she felt the same. So they just enjoyed the feeling of being close to each other, a mutual understanding between them.

"Ya, ya wanna come and see my next show?" He suddenly asked out of the blue.

She nodded so quickly, she almost hurt her neck. "I'd love to. But-"

He brushed through her hair. "I'll make sure you're gonna sit in the first row. I'll arrange it. Then I'll give ya a scarf."

"You already gave me this." She pointed to her thumb.

"But you wanted a scarf, honey, it's that simple. And you'll get a scarf, you'll see." He insisted as he grasped her hand pressed a few kisses to her knuckle.

"Elvis." She paused and bit her lip. The amount of times she said, cried, screamed his name, one should think she's used to it. But using it to adress him directly felt incredibly strange.

He continued toying with her fingers. "What's on your mind, honey? You want another kiss?" He drawled with a small smirk, making her tummy flip.

What she wanted to say to him is that he was too kind. Way too giving. That he shouldn't be so worried about pleasing her, she was just a fan. That she enjoyed kissing and hugging more than anything else. But by the genuine and earnest look in his eyes she realised how much he needed it for himself. Doing everything in his power to make her happy, to satisfy her like they were old friends or possibly lovers, even though his girlfriend Ginger Alden only sat a few feet away from them.

She pressed her lips together, deciding not to voice her thoughts and just said the two words that came to mind, that she'd wanted to say to him all these years. "Thank you."

He furrowed his brows and licked his lips. "What for?"

She held his gaze and put a hand on his chest, feeling the thick patches of hair under her fingers. "For being you."

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down and he sniffed once, his nose scrunching up. That tender look on his face nearly made her melt as they just looked at each other, forgetting the world around them and all its problems. Then he nudged her with a lopsided smile. "Ya want that kiss now or what?"

A smile tugged at her lips as well and she managed a small nod, mentally preparing herself. She was sure that if she continued talking she would just start crying hysterically so she just grabbed onto the soft fabric of his track suit, slightly pulling him down.

He started to lean down, but before he could touch her lips again he opened his eyes with a playful twinkle. "Just don't pass out on me again, little one."

She could do that for him, she knew she'd do anything for him. Just like he did everything for her, driving her crazy and keeping her sane at the same time. And she knew she'd treasure that moment forever. She had a feeling he'd treasure it as well.

..................................................................................

Thank you to my lovely sister wives @be-my-ally @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @from-memphis-with-love @shakerattlescroll

[missmaywemeetagain]

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

A/N: Somehow, against all odds in this absolute chaos of a week, I managed to bang out the "Army Elvis" prompt for this week today, like a maniac. I am both shocked and amazed that I wrote a smutty one-shot without overthinking it but also be warned this is hardly edited or revised, nor even really thought out! 😂

Thanks always to my sister wives in chaos and crime: @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis and @from-memphis-with-love

TW: Smut! Orgasms! Basically no plot!

Rating: Mature 18+ || Word Count: 2.7k

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

He wants to fuck you. Oh lord how he wants to fuck you, from the moment you walk in the room and sit across the aisle from him.

Maybe it’s the curve of your calves and the way they disappear under your pencil skirt. Maybe it’s how your jacket notches in at your waist, accentuating your ample hips. Or perhaps it’s the fact that even with the conservative uniform and minimal to-do with your hair and make-up (as per regulations, of course), you still are absolutely gorgeous.

Or I’m just horny, Elvis thinks sardonically, shifting in his seat.

The movement catches your eye, and he watches curiously as you do a bit of a double take, eyes widening slightly in recognition before your head whips straight ahead.

He smirks to himself at that. It never gets old, the light that goes on in women’s eyes when they take him in in person. And he certainly isn’t getting much of it lately, being effectively shackled here in Germany, clad in his drab green Army fatigues.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he thinks as he pictures the fans that gather at all hours outside the house he’s renting while he’s here, about the girls he invites in. But it’s not quite the same, not the same at all, because his fame is tenuous and teetering here. Part of him is certain that they’ve all forgotten about him at home, despite the Colonel’s reports to the contrary, despite the new movie contracts and albums he is set to record as soon as he returns. However, the sliver of fear about his fate has burrowed deep these past two years and poisons him slowly, each day he is gone.

But now he’s counting days and weeks instead of months and years, and he can nearly taste being home. His fear and the antsy feeling that permeates him is overcome by anxious excitement now, so he’s feeling better than he has in a long time.

And here he is, getting his Sergeant stripes, and that fills him with a different sort of pride altogether.

So, perhaps it is all these factors combined that have him wanting to jump across the aisle, pull you into his arms, and kiss you silly.

He’s never seen you before and doesn’t know your name until they call you up to present you with your earned rank. Feeling a bit lecherous, he admires the view of your ass as you walk to the front and the heaving of your breast as they pin your stripes. Your pretty eyes catch his unabashedly heated gaze and pink floods your cheeks as he locks you in.

Elvis knows what he’s doing. While much of it is a natural sort of gift, he’s also honed his seductive abilities quite a bit in the last four years and gets paid a lot of money because of it. He’s also well aware that he looks good, filled out in a manly way but slimmed down in all the right areas, and right now, he’s not above using his looks to get your attention. And he so does want your attention, as much as he knows by virtue of your uniform and rank, you are completely off limits. He’s not stupid—he’s too close to the end for a court martial. Though he may not be able to fuck you the way he wants, it doesn’t mean he can’t have a little bit of fun.

Crossing his arms, he brings one hand to his mouth, letting his thumb catch on his full bottom lip and his mouth fall open slightly. Then he gazes at you with a pointed but dreamy stare, his eyes blinking slowly.

He watches you gulp and fidget at front of the room, all of which could be explained away by nerves of being put on the spot, but he knows he’s hit jackpot because there’s a little fire stoked in those lovely eyes now.

Tilting his head and raising a brow, he makes a private show of looking you up and down as you walk tenuously back to your seat. Giving him a glare of admonishment, you very purposefully do not look at him once you are seated again, but your hands wring in your lap, your leg crossing over towards him.

He’s flustered you. Warmth rolls over him, pooling in his pelvis, and through the rest of the ceremony, he tries not to think of bending you over your chair, yanking up your skirt, and sinking deep into your silky heat.

His cock twitches at the thought.

Later, fate intervenes on his behalf when he realizes you’ve been seated with him at the dinner banquet following the ceremony. He shakes your hand, introducing himself, letting his fingers squeeze and his thumb graze your palm a little too intimately. The gamut of emotions that flashes over your face before you bring down a stoic smile makes him chuckle.

He guides you to sit next to him, and while you hesitate at first, he knows he’s already won because of the way your eyes widen at the suggestion.

Now that you are close, his body goes into overdrive, and he is drunk on the sweetness of your perfume and the smoothness of your skin. He realizes he’s likely being too obvious in his flirtations but can’t bring himself to reign it in. The other men and women at the table have either consciously or subconsciously deferred to him and his charms, leaving no one to compete for your attention. He lays it on thick, wanting to eat you right up.

Elvis is hyperaware of every time you glance his direction, which is happening more often as he pulls you deeper into conversation, your cool exterior thawing bit by bit. But the way your eyes dilate and how you lick your lips when he brings the bottle of cola in front of him to his mouth has a zing of arousal shooting down his spine and straight into his cock.

Oh.

Nothing if not responsive, Elvis tongues the lip of the bottle before taking a slow drag of the sweet, fizzy soda. Your eyes are fixated now on his mouth, on the bottle, and he watches you catch your lower lip in your teeth as you stare.

Heat courses through him as he pulls the bottle away, tongue rolling over his bottom lip to catch the lingering drops of sugar caught there. You swallow visibly, and he doesn’t stop his teasing, unable to keep his lip from quirking into a delighted smirk at your attentions. Your eyes fly back up to his, as if just realizing you’ve been caught, and you flush a charming shade of red before clearing your throat and looking away quickly.

But every time he raises the bottle to his lips, your eyes catch like a moth to a flame. This time they follow his hand down as he sets the bottle on the table. Condensation gathers droplets on the cool glass and he relishes the smooth, wet feeling as he strokes the bottle with his thumb.

You fidget in your seat. It takes him a second to understand why, but once he does, he feels his cock chub up, caught mercilessly in his briefs and dress pants. The little, mischievous devil in him takes great pleasure watching you watch him make a show of gripping the bottle in his whole hand, slowly thumbing over the opening at the top again and again.

You choke a little and reach for your water, taking a deep drag and blinking rapidly, as if trying to come out of the spell he seems to have you under. You attempt to throw yourself into the conversation at the table, ignoring him with all your might, your body tense in your seat.

A challenge, he thinks, smiling.

Slowly, Elvis presses his knee into the side of your thigh, loving the way you nearly jump out of your seat in surprise at the contact. It’s like a bolt of electricity between you, and he starts to strain against his underwear.

Now that he has your attention, he places his hand back around the cola bottle, lewdly gripping it and slowly twisting his hand down and back up the glass. It’s truly not that far off from his actual size, so the motion feels almost too familiar, too easy. Your mouth pops open at the suggestive gesture and it takes everything in him to not lap his tongue into that delicate little mouth of yours. He matches his rhythm, stroking his knee against your leg, which also happens to provide some delicious friction in his pants. He feels you tense, squeezing your thighs together, and he cannot help but think of your little pink snatch likely staining your panties with slick right at this very moment.

Elvis almost groans aloud at that, catching it in his throat at the last second, but you seem to hear it and your eyes fly to his. Your pupils are blown out and cheeks are hot, and he can almost smell the arousal on you. Goddamn it, he wants to make you come, right here at the table, just for him, in front of everyone, who, wrapped up in their own conversations seem none the wiser at the seduction that is happening before them.

He’s hardly touching you but feels a surge of power when you fidget again, caught like willing prey in his stare. He can’t touch you more than he already is because that would get him in trouble, but if he can’t lay you across this table and fuck you senseless, he’s going to do it the only way he can.

His ministrations on the bottle are serving to arouse him just as much as you, each stroke making his cock twitch and strain and stiffen. Your eyes dart from his to the bottle, back and forth, your breath shallow and rapid. His eyes are heavy on you, unyielding, and look upon you as though you were under him, as though he were trapped and undulating in the heat of what he just knows is your perfect, untouched cunt.

You look back at him as though you know exactly what he’s thinking, as though your tight little hole is snug around him, sweet as honey, treating him right. Your hands clutch at your silverware, your napkin, anything you can get your hands on that isn’t him, and he knows you are well on your way to where he wants you because he can feel how your legs move back and forth, creating the friction you so desperately need between them.

He wonders if he can get away with touching you under the tablecloth, with sticking his hand into those wet panties of yours to play with your swollen and sensitive nub, but your skirt is too long and tight, and your jacket hides the waistband. No, he’s gonna have to be satisfied with eye-fucking you and jerking off this cola bottle.

Your chest starts to vibrate with tension as you try desperately to hold back the short little gasps emanating from your lips and he knows then that you are set to explode. You brace your elbows on the table, hiding the lower part of your face with your napkin, as if wiping your mouth, and he feels your hips buck. You do a helluva job not moaning and rolling your eyes back as you come for him, but he sees you drift somewhere else for a moment in your ecstasy, your eyes going blank as you pant as measured as you can into your napkin-shield.

Watching you unravel so gracefully and so untouched has his own orgasm sneaking up on him. The fact that he made you come just by looking at you but also at the element of public indecency involved has him clutching the cola bottle so hard he might break it. He wants to palm his dick with his other hand, but he knows he can’t be subtle about it and kind of likes the fact you’re making him come untouched, too.

Elvis manages to hold on until you come down from your high enough to look at him with dreamy, satiated eyes and that finally sends him over the edge. His cock pulses heavy and hard, springing against the confines of his slacks, his eyes drifting closed and lips parting as he shivers through his orgasm as quietly as he can. Holy fucking hell.

Your shy, knowing smile is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, and he can’t help but smile right back at you in kind. Your rosy cheeks and gleaming eyes make him feel giddy. His face feels red hot and he can’t help but bring the cold cola bottle to his face to cool it off. You choke back a laugh.

“You alright there, Sergeant Presley?” another soldier questions him.

“Ohhhh, I’m fine,” he drawls, amused, “Just feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here is all, in this getup.”

For once, he’s glad of his regulation briefs, as they kept him from shooting his load straight down his pant leg, but he doesn’t have to look down to know by the sheer force and amount of his release that he’s soaking through the front of his pants. His only consolation is that he knows you must be soaked through your panties, too.

If he can get his jacket on, he’ll be okay because it’s long and will cover the mess, but how he’s going to do so without the entire hall seeing he just jizzed his pants, he’s not so sure. It might not be a problem for the average Joe, but people can’t help but watch his every move, whether he wants them to or not. He realizes in his haze of horniness that maybe he didn’t really think this through.

You seem to realize his predicament, however, pretty eyes widening after looking down in his lap. You snap your head up quickly and he can sense your wheels turning. He starts to panic a little when you don’t let him in on the plan, though, as you start telling some story that he can’t seem to pay attention to with the sticky, rapidly cooling mess in his underwear.

Before he knows what’s happening, you are sweeping your arm to the side in a dramatic retelling, knocking the half-full bottle of cola over, directly into his lap.

He yelps in surprise as the dark cola soaks into his slacks, right over the other stain that had begun to set.

“Oh! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Sergeant Presley!” you cry apologetically, quite convincingly, and in other circumstances, he might try to get you into the movies with your level of commitment as you place your napkin into his lap.

He chuckles, “Oh, it’s fine, darlin’, it’s just a little soda. After all, I was going on about how warm I was gettin’, so you cooled me right off.” He gives you a wink at his obvious double entendre, and you purse your lips to hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’m awfully embarrassed,” you say quietly, fully leaning into the role. “Please send me your dry cleaning bill. It’s the least I can do.” Pulling a little pad out of your clutch, you scribble something down on the paper, tear it off, fold it, and hand it to him.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. It’s no big thing,” he says, but takes the paper anyway, sensing that you have written something other than your dry cleaner’s information on it. He motions for your pen and paper. “Can I?”

You nod and hand them over. In his chicken scratch handwriting, he scrawls a note:

If you ever find yourself in Memphis someday, honey, come to Graceland for a visit. Ask for ‘Sarge.’ I’d love to have ya.

Love, Sergeant Elvis Presley

He finishes by adding one of the numbers at Graceland and hands the pad back to her. Wishful thinking, but maybe someday, when it’s not a court-martialed offense, he’ll be able to show you the good time you deserve.

He excuses himself, then, sloshing in his soggy, ruined pants, waiting until he gets to the car to read your note.

Sergeant Presley,

One must watch out for those pesky cola bottles…Try vinegar and cold water for that stain…wouldn’t want it to set!  

Corporal Y/N  Y/L/N

He laughs heartily as the car pulls away.

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[whositmcwhatsit]

Afraid

AN: It's been a difficult couple of weeks, so I wrote myself some fluff. Maybe you're in need of fluff too. If so, enjoy!

Written using the prompt: "Isn't that mine?"

@thatbanditqueen, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @ellie-24, @from-memphis-with-love, @missmaywemeetagain

“I shouldn’t be here, I’ve got a History test tomorrow that I haven’t even started to study for.”

“Well, I didn’t put you in a headlock,” Shirley pointed out, pinching cotton candy between her fingers before she popped it into her mouth. “Anyway, so you fail a test, are you telling me you wouldn’t regret missing out on seeing Elvis more?”

“I’m just thinking about when my parents find out and they ban me from coming out.”

Shirley, whose parents who paid little attention to what she did, just shrugged and sucked in more cotton candy. “Then you’ll just sneak out, right? Plenty of the kids do it.”

Tina knew that a lot of the girls wrapped their pillows in blankets and shimmied out of the window to get into cars that idled at the kerb a safe distance from their houses, but she felt a pang in her stomach at the thought of becoming one of them. She liked her parents, respected them, and had always liked being the daughter they wanted her to be, but ever since she had found herself outside the gates of Graceland a few months before, that girl had been drifting further and further away from her.

“So, what d’you want to do now?” she asked Shirley. They had already rode the Pippin and the Rocket and the dodgems were off limits for the moment while Elvis and his friends tried their best to kill one another. She didn’t even like watching them for too long, it made her hair stand on end the chances they took. If nothing else, it proved how blessed Elvis really was that no one had ever been seriously injured.

“Ferris Wheel?” Shirley shrugged, tossing the last of the cotton candy and wiping her fingers on her skirt. Tina nodded and sighed as they wandered over to the huge ride that loomed up into the night sky. She let her head tip back as she squinted up at the top where the carriages swung in the breeze and let out another sigh.

As they headed towards the booth that marked the entrance, something hit Tina hard between the shoulder blades and she stumbled forward, grabbing onto Shirley’s shoulder to stop herself from toppling onto the asphalt.

“Hey, dumbass, watch it!”

Both girls whirled round at the familiar voice just in time to see Elvis give his cousin Billy a swift kick in the pants that almost sent him sprawling. He turned back to the girls, eyes roaming all over as he asked if they were okay and apologising for his thoughtless cousin.

“No harm done!” Shirley chirped, even though she wasn’t the one that had been hit.

Tina had to crane her neck again as he stepped up to her, looking impossibly handsome with his gleaming black hair and white sports jacket. He was wearing some kind of hat that would have looked silly on anyone else, but whatever magic Elvis was encased in had swallowed up that hat too and it just added to his look. There was a smile glinting in his eyes even though he was affecting a concerned frown.

“Are you sure you’re okay, honey? I feel like I need to make it up to you.” He looked around, surveying the immediate area. “Let’s take us a ride on the Ferris wheel, I should keep an eye on you in case you got concussion or something.” She opened her mouth to explain that it was her back that got hit, but her brain managed to kick in before the words started to come out.

“You don’t mind, do you, darlin’, if I steal your friend for a while?” Shirley shook her head, her face glowing with her smile, but as soon as Elvis turned away, her expression became an Arctic glare at Tina.

In a daze, Tina let herself be led by the hand, perching onto the seat and clutching at the bar as it was pulled down. Elvis leant over and called over the ride operator, saying something to him before they were lifting up into the air.

Tina wasn’t sure what was more terrifying, being suspended at heights that would mean certain death or sitting alone next to Elvis Presley. It was probably a draw.

“So, you’re sure you’re okay?” Elvis said, lifting his arm over her head and laying it across the back of her seat. He shifted slightly towards her and the car swung wildly. Tina emitted a muted squeak and squeezed the bar tighter in her sweaty fingers. “Honey, you don’t have to be scared of me. I won’t hurt you.” Tina couldn’t even look at him, convinced that if she took her eyes off the ground that she was going to magically slip beneath the restraint and tumble out.

“It’s not you,” she managed through her clenched jaw.

“Aw hell, you scared of heights, honey?” He moved again, she presumed to try and meet her eye, and she whimpered, feeling the cold sweat prickling across her forehead. “Why didn’t you say nothing? You were heading this way, I thought-”

“I’m gonna beat it,” she replied, starting to nod but stopping because any movement felt like too much. “Every time I visit I make myself come up here and I- I’m gonna get used to it. And I won’t be afraid no more. I mean anymore.” Terror is no excuse for not speaking properly, she could hear her mother instructing her in that earnest way she did.

“I do the same thing,” Elvis answered, so softly that she forgot herself and glanced over in surprise. His eyes flicked from the ground to hers, filled with a tender glow that tricked her into smiling despite her unease. “You know, every time I walk out on a stage or onto a set over in Hollywood, I get so scared, my heart feels like it’s gonna pound right outta my chest and I get this energy in my arms and legs that I think is gonna fry all my circuits.” He laughed a little to himself. “But I keep on making myself do it, play the shows, say my lines, because it’s gonna get easier the more I do it. I mean, it has to, right?”

Tina took a deep breath, as much as she could with the tight band of fear around her chest, and fought against the pull to look back down at the ground, which she sensed was a dizzying distance away now.

“You’ve performed in so many shows now,” she said, her eyes fixed on those warm, gentle eyes, “has it gotten easier?”

“Sometimes I think it has,” he nodded. She heard what he was trying not to say and sighed again. “But- But facing an audience is something different than heights. Being up high, it’s gonna stay the same, right? No matter where you are, high is high. Every audience is different, just ‘cause you went over okay in one city don’t mean they’re gonna take to you the same in another. The changin’, that makes it hard to get used to. Heights though… You’ll crack it, honey, I know it.”

Tina’s smile was more genuine now, she could see how hard he was trying to comfort and distract her and she felt a little like that silly hat with the upturned brim, encased in Elvis’ aura where bad things could not happen and nothing couldn’t be fixed. She was just about to thank him for his kindness when the ride stopped with a sudden jolt and the car lurched precariously at the very top of the wheel. She screamed instead.

“Oh shit!” His eyes widened as realisation dawned on him. “Honey, I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t know and I told them-“ He leaned over the edge of the car, trying to get the ride operator’s attention. “Hey! Hey, start it back up! Hey!” He glanced back over his shoulder at her and gripped her shoulder with his large, warm hand, reassuring her.

“I think it’ll be okay if you just stop moving!” she said, trying to keep the panic from making her voice sound funny. It came out sharper than she wanted.

“Just stop moving,” he muttered, turning round again so that he was practically facing her, his arms bracketing her. “Might as well learn to fly at the same time. Ain’t exactly my strong suit, honey.”

With what felt like superhuman strength, she peeled her fingers on one hand away from the bar and lifted it slightly, clamping hold of his forearm. She could feel the muscle tense beneath her fingers through his jacket. He went to raise his arm, probably to wrap it around her, but she shook her head sharply and pushed down, forcing it to stay in place.

“You hold on,” she instructed. “And I’ll keep you still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, eyes fixed on hers again, reading them like pages of a script. She exhaled shakily and swivelled slightly in her seat, freezing momentarily when the entire world seemed to slip off its axis for a second. The inside of her skirt clung to her sweaty legs, but she ignored the discomfort of it peeling away as she slotted her legs around Elvis’ jiggling thigh, clamping hold with her knees.

“Whoa, good grip, hot damn.” She watched him visibly swallow and she grinned, forgetting which one of them was supposed to be nervous. Her final act of bravery was to release the bar from her other clawed death grip and transfer it to the arm he had laid behind her, squeezing his bicep on this side.

They sat this way for a what felt like a lifetime, her frozen against even the suggestion of a breeze and him pinned down, studying her face like he had a test on it in the morning.

“Elvis, do you know my name?” she asked suddenly. His eyebrows twitched suddenly as he realised that he didn’t.

“Well, there hasn’t exactly been a good time to ask…” His slow smirk was so beautiful that she felt her face moving to match it.

“It’s Christina, but people call me Tina. You might not remember the name, but I guess I might stick in your mind a little bit after this, right?”

“I’m pretty sure you would’ve anyway, Tina honey,” he replied with his usual charm. “But yeah, I think you might be right. I gotta introduce you to my mother, she’ll wanna meet the girl that managed to keep me still for more than ten seconds.”

“You’re doing really well,” Tina observed, noting that he had matched the grip she had on his right thigh with his legs bookending hers.

“You too,” he replied, cheekbones brimming as he glanced to the side, looking down at the small crowd milling around the ride. “You know, it really is a beautiful night.” She winced and he smiled a little wider. “You can do, it, baby, just a little peek.”

Tina turned her head in a slow, stuttering swivel, squeezing him tighter the more the horizon seemed to bob up and down. He was right, the sky was clear and the stars seemed especially bright. The low moon was so big you could count the craters.

“It is,” she agreed, “You know- Oh no!”

 The ride suddenly cranked back into life and Tina shrieked again. Someone further back laughed like they thought she was playing. In the chaos, Elvis surged forward since the car was already swinging precariously, and wrapped his arms around her, hushing her in a low voice as she clung to his shirt.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay, I got you, I got you.” She had her face buried beneath his jacket somehow, taking in his scent. Her breathing evened out and she lost track of whether the ride was moving at all. She could feel his heartbeat against her cheek, surprisingly fast like a handful of coins thrown down a stairwell, jangling and clanging with only speed and little rhythm.

“You can let me loose now, honey, we’re back down on solid ground.” She withdrew from the folds of his shirt, meeting the smirk of the ride operator as he lifted the bar. She had daydreamed the myriad ways that she might catch the eye of Elvis one night at the fairground, roller rink or movie theatre. She would use the precious moment she had his attention to convince him that she, out of all the girls he dated, kissed, flirted with, was the one he was looking for. Well, the best laid plans…

Scrambling off the seat, she swayed slightly as she hurried through the exit, looking for Shirley’s familiar blonde ponytail.

“Tina, wait a minute!” Elvis’ voice was different compared to when they had been alone up there in the sky, deeper and more authoritative. She had no choice but to stop and wait for him to catch up. “Honey, I really am sorry. I fouled everything up something awful. I don’t blame ya for wanting to-“

For a second, she thought that he was going to topple over as she surged up onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his mouth, but he only staggered back a step before he caught himself and her. Well, she almost kissed his mouth, the corner of it at least. There had been little time to aim accurately. She stood in front of him anxiously, waiting for a response, but he just stood there too with a little smile on his face and his cheeks pink.

“Uh, that was- I mean, thank you, for being so nice when I was being a scaredy cat up there. You could’ve made fun of me, but you didn’t. That was real nice of you.”

“Nothing to make fun of,” he shrugged, shaking off his embarrassment and regaining his usual self-assured stance, hips thrust forward. “Everybody’s afraid of something, right? Only they keep it a secret.” He wiggled his eyebrows pointedly.

“Uh huh, yep, secret,” she nodded, miming turning the lock on her lips.

“Anyway, you weren’t heading off home, were you? The night’s young and I feel like I gotta make it up to you-” He waved his hand behind him at the Ferris wheel. She bit back pointing out that the wheel was supposed to make up for his cousin hitting her in the back, so he had struck out two times already.

“I guess I can stay a while,” she replied absently, scanning the crowd. “I just gotta find my friend because she’s my ride home.”

“Oh, that ain’t no problem, I’ll get you home, don’t worry about that.” He snatched up her hand and spun on his heels. “Okay, so where to next?” She opened her mouth to answer, but he had already decided and she was just along for the ride. He strode over to a row of games, rejoining some of his friends who were huddled around trying to win prizes for their dates.

“Okay, you clowns, step back and let me show you how it’s done!” he intoned in that deep voice again. Everyone smiled and laughed and did as they were told. Red, who had been in the middle of his go, handed his baseballs to Elvis without a word. Elvis thumped them onto the counter and wiped his palms on his pants, before reaching up to remove his hat.

“Here you go, honey,” he murmured, plopping it onto her head. “You look after this for me and be my little good luck charm.”

The boys were ribbing him, saying he couldn’t make the shot, that he had a better chance of hitting the broad side of a barn or the barn side of a broad.

“Just shut ya damn mouths for a minute,” he scoffed, making as if to lob a baseball at them. They scattered like a shoal of fish in a racket of cackling and guffaws, before regrouping as he stepped up to the counter. At the back of the stall, wooden figures were moving along a conveyor.

“Watch me now, honey,” he said, turning to Tina and tugging her forward slightly by the arm. “You think about which of these prizes you want me to win you.”

Instead, she watched as the crowd began to form behind them. She wondered if he got scared in these situations too, yet another audience he had to impress. This reverie halted the minute he started flinging the balls at the wooden figures and they collapsed on their hinges one by one. His aim was spot on, every single one a hit.

“That was amazing!” she marvelled as the last ball met its target with a thwack. He turned, a small proud smile on his face and went to say something, but one of the guys made a crack about beginner’s luck.

“Beginner’s luck, my ass!” Elvis shot back. “Give me some more fuckin’ balls. Pardon my French, ladies, but this fool’s got me all turned up.” Tina felt her smile fade and she leaned against the flimsy wooden overhand of the booth, watching him obliterate the figures yet again.

Next, another of his friends accused him of being in collusion with the game operator, saying that he had been paid to press a hidden button to make the figures collapsed on their hinges. So, Elvis had the greasy, skinny man stepped out from behind the counter while he continued his winning streak.

It was clear that his friends were only teasing him because they wanted his attention, wanted him in front of them trying to impress them. And now that they had what they wanted, they were not eager to let him go. She let her eyes drift towards the other rides, catching sight of a blonde ponytail. She peeled away from the crowd, it wasn’t difficult when Elvis had barely glanced at her since starting the game, and tried to catch up to Shirley.

“Hey, where you going?” She only managed to reach the concourse before he had her by the wrist. “C’mon, Tina honey, you gotta pick your prize.” He fixed her with a proud, boyish smile that made her feel like she was being sour and mean for getting fed up waiting for him to finish.

Tina chose a big panda wearing a pink ribbon around its neck that Elvis promptly christened ‘Tina Junior.’

“Let’s take Junior for a walk, baby,” he said softly, clapping a couple of his buddies on the back and kicking one in the seat of the pants as he led her away from the stalls. The further they moved from his audience, the quieter and more attentive he became, the softer his voice too.

Tina followed blindly, smiling faintly at his twinkling eyes and Hollywood smile, not realising until too late that he was leading her to a darkened area of the park, an area containing the kind of rides that Elvis and his buddies were not interested in riding and so they were not left operational when the park was rented out.

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything to do over here,” she said slightly nervously, glancing back at the lights, music and voices.

“You’d be surprised, honey.” He drew closer to her, swooping in for a kiss that was thwarted by Tina Junior pinned between them.

“Damn, burnt by a bear,” he observed, taking it from her arms and holding it down at his side as he leant in again. His aim, as he had proved copious times, was always true and his soft, full lips pressed against hers with a feather light touch.

“Elvis, I-”

“It’s okay, baby, let’s keep on trying it and soon you won’t be scared no more.” His hand cupped her jaw and he stole away her breath so that she couldn’t protest again. Not that she could remember that she wanted to. Softly, experimentally, his tongue flicked against her lip and she drew back sharply, unsure whether she had just been the victim of a prank.

Elvis’ eyes narrowed. “How old are you, Tina honey?” Her cheeks burnt with shame that she had obviously given her inexperience away.

“I’m nearly eighteen,” she answered. In eleven months.

“And you ain’t never been kissed before?” Tina couldn’t parse the expression on his face, nothing fit exactly, almost as if there was more than one feeling swirling away in there. “Ain’t let no other boy touch you…” He placed his finger on her peter pan collar and let it deliberately slide down her chest, slowing as it passed over her nipple, which was pebbling and aching beneath her clothes.

“My parents don’t want me to date until I graduate High School,” she replied in a daze. “They don’t want me to get distracted from my studies.”

“God bless, Mommy and Daddy,” he murmured, blue eyes fixed on her face and his pouty mouth hanging open slackly as his hands kneading her hip. “They’re right, you know, you shouldn’t date until graduation. No boys, no one but me.”

“I don’t understand,” she breathed, as he ran the back of his hand steadily down her chest and over her ribs and belly.

“I wanna see you again,” he whispered, pressing her against a ticket booth and stepping in to crowd her, hips pressed into her petticoats. His mouth caught hers and his tongue brushed against her lips again. This time she opened her mouth as she inhaled and he took it as an invitation.

It didn’t feel like a kiss, it felt more intimate, more secret and maybe slightly wrong. She tentatively put out her tongue to meet his, letting him graze against it as he worried at her bottom lip. The ticklish stimulation was matched by the pressure against her hips and lower down. It felt he was poking her, but both his hands was around her neck and face.

“Okay,” he gasped. “Okay, we gotta take an intermission, baby, before the show’s over completely.” He stepped away from her and she felt a surge of loss coupled with an draught of cool air that swept in to fill the void he had left. She shivered.

“Aw, you cold, baby?” He shrugged off his white sports jacket and helped her into it. She could feel his warmth clinging to the lining, not to mention his scent. “Let’s go back, huh, it’s about time we got you home anyway. It’s a school night, right?” She bristled, but it didn’t seem like he was teasing her, not as he beamed down, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

As they walked back into the light, Elvis threw his arm around her and drew her in close, his wrist hanging from her shoulder, fingertips brushing her chest. They looked, she reflected with awe, like they were dating. She looked like she was dating Elvis Presley.

Elvis and a few of his friends drove her home in his Lincoln. She was pressed up against him on the front seat, and he was back to talking in that loud, deep voice he only used in front of other people. She let her mind wander back to the Ferris wheel and the way that his eyes had held her, coddling her with warmth and tenderness even in her stupid fear. She focussed on the way that his hand, whenever it was not shifting or on the wheel, flopped down onto her skirt, cupping her knee hidden beneath the material.

“Here we are, honey,” he announced, pulling up at her parents’ neat one-storey home. The windows were dark, which was a good sign, she reflected. “Want me to walk you to the door?”

The guys in the back laughed and she couldn’t stop herself from glaring at them. Elvis turned slightly and gave the nearest one a swat with the back of his hand.

“Ignore them, honey, they’re fools.”

“I had a good time tonight,” she said softly, looking only at him and his heavy-lidded eyes. “Thank you for-“ She stopped, mindful of their audience. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” he replied with his famous half-grin. “And I mean that, really.” She climbed out of the car and onto the kerb. Suddenly, remembering Tina Junior still sitting on the front seat and leaning in through the window to grab her.

“Oh, and my hat too!” she gasped, snatching it up.

“Your hat? Isn’t that mine?” he asked with a laugh.

“Hmm, well consider it compensation for pushing Billy into me tonight,” she returned, playfully sticking out the tip of her tongue. He laughed sheepishly and rubbed at his forehead, before shrugging an admission. Busted.

“I’ll see ya, darlin’,” he said. “Give Tina Junior a kiss goodnight from me, okay?”

Tina watched him pull away from the kerb as she wrapped her arms around the teddy, finally noticing that she was still wearing his jacket. It was too late to call him back, the car tail lights were barely visible in the dark, and it would be an excellent reason to show up at the gates tomorrow if he didn’t call like he promised.

It was time to stop being afraid.

[imasexypotato]

I just finished watching the Elvis (2022) Movie and a fic idea just popped into my brain, hear me out. Twins.

Masters of the air Twins AU:

(This is set in the MoTA timeline, Elvis and Gale are the same age, and join the war around the same time.)

Gale Cleven and Elvis Presley are twins that were separated at birth.

Elvis gets to grow up with his mother and father, and even though they don't have a lot of money, they have eachother.

Gala is either taken away from them or given up for adoption because they can't afford to raise two kids.

They each grow up without knowing that they have a (living) twin brother somewhere in the world.

Elvis is told that he had a twin brother that died at childbirth. Whereas Gale is raised by the Clevens not knowing he's adopted.

They each grow up differently. Elvis, surrounded by friends and family, different cultures shaping his mind. He becomes an outgoing, extroverted cheerful young man.

And Gale, living with an abusive alcoholic father and timid absent mother. He keeps his thoughts to himself, more introverted and serious.

Gale joins the Air force, meets John, and eventually becomes a major and is sent to the 100th.

Elvis joins the Army, and climbs the ranks quickly. Something happens and he's transferred to the 100th after Gale has already arrived.

For the first couple of weeks that they're both there, they don't cross paths. But other pilots and members of the 100th task force meet them.

After a while, people start to realise that they look exactly the same. They're identical.

Except for their hair, Elvis having jet black hair and Gale having blonde locks. And polar opposite personalities, they're like the day and night.

They also realise that they aren't aware of each others existence. After a few days of people asking each brother if they're related, and both of them denying having any siblings, John snaps.

It's the 4th time that day someone's asked Buck if he has a long lost brother. He decides to go and meet this mysterious man that looks so much like his Buck.

He goes around base looking for this Elvis Presley guy. When he meets him, he can't believe his eyes.

He looks just like Buck. Granted he's not nearly as gorgeous as his Gale, but the resemblance is uncanny.

There's no way they're not related.

After that day, John and some others try to get both brothers to somehow interact without making it seem forced.

Somehow, they never seem to meet.

At first, Gale brushes away John's insistence of him meeting some new guy, he's too busy to play along with his games.

And Elvis is trying to get the hang of things around base. There isn't a moment of rest for either brother.

So John enlists the help of some of his friends. Demarco and Brady, Crosby and Bubbles, Curt as well. They're going to stage a meeting for those two clueless idiots.

But each time they try to set something up, it fails. Maybe they trick Gale into going someplace to meet John, and Elvis is a no show.

Another time, they try to make them bump into eachother. And somehow they don't notice the other as they walk past one another in opposite directions.

Each attempt to get them together becoming more and more ridiculous.

It reaches the point where most people working for the 100th know about the two men. Eventually, Colonel Harding finds out what his subordinates have been up to.

He tells them to let it be. Major Cleven and Major Presley are bound to meet at some point.

So they do.

They watch as the days go by. Waiting for each brother to acknowledge the other. It feels like everyone on base is holding their breath.

Waiting for Gale and Elvis to meet. Expecting some kind of earth shattering, mind blowing reaction from the two men.

They eventually meet, entirely on their own and by pure chance and coincidence.

It's the middle of the night, and Elvis is walking around base trying to unwind after a long day. He can tell that the others are acting strange but he can't tell why. It's like they're walking on eggshells around him.

He walks down a dark path and hums a little song his momma used to sing to him when he was a child.

He's about to turn and head back to the barracks. He stops humming for a moment and that's when he hears it.

Someone is singings his momma's song. How is that possible? She made it up herself.

He looks around, trying to pinpoint where the voice is coming from.

In the distance someone walks in his direction. It's hard to see in the dark.

As he comes closer, the man stops singing once he notices someone standing up ahead.

He slows down and takes careful, measured steps. Elvis does the same. Once they're close enough to see eachother, they freeze.

It's like looking in a mirror.

They look at each other in silence. An array of emotions displayed on each man's face. From confusion to understanding, to Awe.

They don't say a single word.

And yet.

Somehow.

Deep down.

They know.

💛💙💛💙💛💙

Should I make a part 2 of what I think happens next?

[petribread]

Cringetober day 1!!!!!!

If you know what video this is from, YOU'RE AWESOME!!!!!

[aliypop]

I Need Somebody

Wordcount: 512

Request by: @sissylittlefeather

Prompt: Elvis and Cecelia on the phone talking

Warning: None

Taglist:

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

@leapresley

@everythingelvispresley

@dreamondina94

@elvismylove04

@pocketfulofpresley

@elvispresley1956

@poeandmoonknightgirl

1958

It was a late night in Louisana, and Elvis was bored in his hotel room. He'd been filming his new movie King Creole and feeling homesick until he thought of an idea, which was to call his girlfriend, who he had hoped wasn't on stage performing. Sure, he loved dating a woman who was his equal, but it did get lonely on those nights when he needed her near to sing him to sleep when his insomnia got the best of him. Of course, Cecelia knew all too well how it felt. Everywhere she turned she could see Elvis, from the posters to the commercials to the merchandise the girls wore to her concerts, but it was nothing like having the real thing. "Alright girls goodnight..." Denise said, wishing The Garnets off as they all disbursed, Cecelia rushed to her room waiting to get into bed, 

"Cece..."

"Yes, mother?"

"Front Desk says your room phone has been hanging off the-" Cecelia dashed flopping onto the bed and rolling over to the phone, "Hook..." Denise shook her head, Elvis sighed getting discouraged as he waited for her to answer, he hoped she was okay, or that she was being true to him, or that she simply was just- 

"Hello?"

 "ELVY WELVY BEAR!" Cecelia shouted as he laughed,

"Hey honey, I missed you," He smiled as he could hear her grinning, "Me too..." She responded by kicking her feet up and swinging them, 

"How's filming?"

"How's the show?"

"You go first..."

"No, you..." 

"No, you..."

"Cece..."

"El..." 

"Lonely..." They said in unison, "Can't sleep without you..." Elvis sighed, "And when I try to I-I toss an turn and then I'm up so I read a book and..."

"And then get reminded of you not reading them allowed?" She asked as he laughed, Cecelia knew him so well it was scary, 

"Yeah... I..."  

"HEY ROSA GIVE ME MY DRUMSTICKS !" Elvis paused as he shook his head,

"You what..."

"Nothing," He shook his head, as he kept trying to focus on what he was saying, 

"I wish you were here right now..." 

"Me too- HEY CARLOTTA GIVE ROSA HER DRUMS..." Elvis blinked it sounded as if Cecelia's voice was coming from the wall behind him, "Sorry baby the girls are acting nuts.." He heard the door open as he took the phone as far as he could with him, his head peeping out the door "No worries honey..."

"Excuse me one second," Stepping out her hotel door, she took a deep breath and said, " YOU TWO ARE FIGHTIN' LIKE CHIL-"

"Ladies..."

"Hi, Elvis!" Rosa waved, Cecelia dropped the phone as she ran over to Elvis, Elvis catching her in a tight hug, and a sweet kiss, 

"Wanna help me fall asleep..."

"Gladly..." 

It was a late night in Louisana, and Elvis was bored in his hotel room. He'd been filming his new movie King Creole and feeling homesick, but now he had his girlfriend Cecelia running her fingers through his hair and singing him to sleep as he happily laid on her chest. 

[vintageshanny]

Play Something For Me - Part 5 - Meet Me in St. Louis

It’s the return of Elvis and Ruby! I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to everyone who’s liked, shared, and commented on my writing. It is so encouraging and means so much to me. ❤️

Writing Prompt: Elvis in a car

Content: Fluff, smut, 1973 Elvis, 18+

October 31, 1973

Ruby let her thoughts wander as she absentmindedly strolled down the sidewalk with her shopping bags.  She had walked to the store to pick up some candy for the trick-or-treaters that would be flooding the neighborhood later.  Ella would be home from school soon and would need help putting the finishing touches on her costume.  As usual when she was alone, she found her mind drifting to Elvis.  To her knowledge, he had not tried to contact her in the almost two months since they had admitted their love for each other in Las Vegas.  She had seen the news stories about his rant against the Hilton on closing night, rumors of a falling out with his manager, and his divorce being finalized at last.  She knew he must be going through a lot of turmoil, and at first she had tried to convince herself that was the reason for his silence, but it was probably time to face the music - she had just been a convenient distraction for him, and now he was back to a life that had no room for a single mother in St. Louis.  As if the weather sensed her melancholy mood, raindrops started to pour down with no warning.  “Dammit,” she muttered to herself, looking up at the sky as if that would stop them somehow.  

“Be careful baby, sugar melts in the rain,” an unmistakable deep voice called out.  Ruby glanced over with surprise, just now noticing the fancy black car that had pulled over to the side of the road.  She saw Elvis’ handsome face gleaming at her from the back window.  Her jaw fell open a little bit as she took a step closer.  “How did you know I have candy?” she asked, unsure of what else to say, looking down at the brown paper bags that were starting to get soggy.  “Now honey, ya know I was talkin’ ‘bout you,” Elvis chuckled.  “Now get in here ‘fore ya float away with your candy.”  The rain soaking through her clothes assured her that this was the only sensible decision.

“Aw, honey, you’re soakin’ wet, you’re gonna catch cold,” Elvis murmured as he pulled Ruby in close and planted a big kiss on her lips, which were still hanging open slightly in shock.  “How are you, I mean, what are you, um, why are you here?” she blurted out awkwardly.  She could see his lopsided smile drop a little bit at her less-than-welcoming reception.  “I mean, I haven’t heard from you, I just thought you didn’t want…” she trailed off, trying to backtrack on her initial hostility.  “I do want, honey,” Elvis said, looking a bit dejected.  “I’ve had a lot goin’ on, and I tried ta call ya a couple times, but ya ain’t got no answerin’ service.”  “Oh,” Ruby said, feeling stupid.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you called.”  She did most of her seamstress work from home, but she supposed he could have called when she was out running errands.  Or, knowing his schedule, maybe when she was sleeping.  “I just figured you didn’t want to see me again.”  Elvis looked up sharply.  “I drove all the way here, baby,” he said.  “Of course I wanted ta see ya.”  Charlie cleared his throat softly from the driver’s seat.  “I guess Charlie wants credit for drivin’ me here,” Elvis said with a hollow chuckle.  

Ruby swallowed and looked down at her hands.  “Elvis, I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.  “Ya are?” he asked, tilting her chin up toward him.  “Of course,” Ruby admitted.  “I was just feeling worried.  I have all these feelings for you, and then I didn’t hear from you, or I thought I didn’t hear from you, and I’m scared.”  She could feel herself beginning to tear up.  “Oh, Ruby, you ain’t gotta be scared of me.  I told ya I had a lot goin’ on, but I’m here now.  Ya know I wanna be with ya.  There’s a reason we’re back in each other’s lives, and I ain’t throwin’ that away.  Understand, baby?” Elvis gazed at her, waiting for an answer.  Ruby nodded and let him wrap her hand in his own.  “Ya sure are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his smile reappearing now.  “Really?  I probably look like a drowned rat,” Ruby laughed.  Elvis’ eyes lowered to her chest and his grin grew bigger.  “Naw, baby, ya look really good like this.  Jus’ make sure no one else lays an eye on ya.”  Ruby followed his gaze down and gasped a little bit when she saw how her sopping wet blouse had molded itself to every contour of her breasts, her nipples prominently poking through the fabric.  She could feel her face flushing bright red as Elvis chuckled and pulled her in close to him.  “Mmm my red Ruby, you’re actin’ like I ain’t seen ya naked before,” he whispered in her ear, sending a little shiver down her spine.  “Elvis!” she whispered shyly, her eyes darting toward the front seat.  “Charlie ain’t listenin’ to us, are ya, Charlie?” Elvis called out.  “No, boss,” came the reply from the front.  “Jus’ drive us to Miss Ruby’s house,” Elvis instructed and leaned back toward her.  His hand gently caressed her chest as she succumbed to the pleasure of his soft lips pressing against hers.

Ruby felt like she could go on kissing Elvis for hours, but they pulled up in front of her house in just a few minutes.  Elvis looked out the window and surveyed the sky.  “I guess we should get inside while the rain’s let up.”  Ruby noticed the downpour had disappeared as quickly as it had come.  It was as if it occurred at the perfect time for Elvis to rescue her and woo her back into his arms without a second thought.  Maybe this is all happening for a reason, she mused.  “Uh, what should I do, boss?  Wait here, or…” Charlie trailed off uncertainly.  “Nah, go to the hotel.  I’ll call ya if I need ya,” Elvis responded, grabbing a small suitcase and opening the door.  He hurried around to help Ruby get out with her wet grocery bags.  Ruby glanced around nervously, hoping none of the neighbors were watching.  Elvis wasn’t exactly incognito in a silver jacket with rainbow flames licking the shoulders.  She smiled as she looked him up and down.  He seemed to have gained a little weight since she’d seen him, but she didn’t mind at all.  It actually made her flush as she thought about laying underneath him, his body pressed into hers.  Elvis looked over and smirked as they climbed the steps to the porch.  “You’re gonna make me blush, baby, the way you’re undressin’ me with your eyes like that.”  “I’m sorry,” Ruby murmured.  “I just don’t know how you get more handsome every time I see you.”  She loved the way her compliments always seemed to both embarrass and please him.

Ruby set the bags of candy on the kitchen counter and turned to see Elvis surveying the living room, looking at the framed photos of her and Ella.  “Where’s your girl now?” he asked.  “She should be home from school any minute, actually,” Ruby commented.  “If you’d rather go, I understand,” she said, looking away nervously.  Elvis turned to look at her in surprise.  “Oh, do ya not want me to meet her?”  He looked a little hurt again.  “No, no, you can meet her, I just didn’t know if you’d feel comfortable, or-” she stammered out before Elvis cut her off.  “Ruby, I love ya.  I want to be in your life, but that means ya have to let me in,” he said as he walked closer and took her hands in his, looking directly into her eyes.  She could feel them watering as she nodded and said, “Okay.  I’ll let you in.”  Elvis smiled with relief and held her close to him.  “And Elvis?” she added.  “Yes, baby?”  “I love you too.  I’m so glad you came.”  She could feel his embrace around her tighten.  “Baby, you should get outta these wet clothes,” he murmured into her hair.  “Are you just trying to see me naked again?” she teased.  “Nah, there’ll be plenty of time for that later,” he laughed.  “I can’t get all excited when we won’t have the time for me to take care of ya properly.”  Ruby smiled at this and leaned up to kiss his lips before going into her bedroom to change.  

She returned to the living room to find that Elvis had made himself at home on the couch with some peanut butter cups from one of the grocery bags.  “Elvis!” she swatted at him playfully, “Those are for the trick-or-treaters!”  Elvis looked up at her with a big grin and whistled lowly.  “You look beautiful baby, even if I can’t see those pretty nipples anymore.”  He laughed as Ruby’s face turned scarlet.  “Aw, red Ruby, your face matches your dress now,” he continued to tease as he pulled her onto his lap.  She smoothed out her red dress with rainbow stitching at the waistline.  She was too embarrassed to say that she had picked it out so they would match a little bit with their rainbow colors.  Instead she leaned in and licked the chocolate off Elvis’ lip.  “You’re a messy eater,” she teased him.  “I can think of something really messy I’d like to eat,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers digging into her waist.  “Elvis!” Ruby squealed, shocked but delighted by his naughty innuendo.  Just at that moment, the doorknob turned and Ruby jumped up off his lap.

“Mom!  I’m home!” Ella called out as she walked in the door.  I’m right here sweetie, and we have a guest,” Ruby said nervously.  Ella turned as she walked into the living room and her jaw just about hit the floor.  “You’re - you’re Elvis Presley,” she announced in awe.  Elvis stood up from the couch and reached his hand out.  “You must be Ella.  I’ve heard so much about ya,” he said with a grin.  Ella reached her hand out and shook his, looking like she was in a trance.  “Why are you in our house?” she stared over at her mother in confusion.  “Oh, I’m jus’ an old friend of your mom’s,” he said, smiling down at how her hand was still shaking his.  She dropped his hand then and gasped.  “You did meet in Germany, didn’t you?” she asked accusingly.  “My mom said she only caught a glimpse of you.”  “Well, we may have had a conversation as well,” Ruby said softly, trying to think of how to get herself out of this uncomfortable situation.  “Then when she came to my concert in August, we got a chance to talk again.”  Elvis smiled over at Ruby, trying to help her explain his presence.  “Your concert?” Ella asked in disbelief, looking at Ruby once more.  “You went to Las Vegas while I was gone?”  Then a look of realization came over her face.  “Are you…dating?” she asked.  “Are you dating Elvis Presley and you didn’t tell me?”  Elvis looked at Ruby questioningly also, realizing that she must not have mentioned a thing about him.   Ruby cleared her throat nervously.  “It’s, um, kind of a long story, and I think that’s enough questions for right now.  I can explain it all later, but you need to finish getting your costume ready for tonight.  Trick-or-treat starts in an hour.”  She turned and walked into the kitchen before either of them could question her any further.

Ella went into her bedroom to get ready, and Ruby could hear Elvis’ heavy footsteps walk up behind her while she was pouring the bags of candy out into a big bowl.  “So…ya didn’t even think to mention me huh?” he asked, sounding a bit disappointed.  Ruby turned to find him standing directly behind her, blocking her against the counter.  “Elvis, it’s not that I didn’t think to, I mean, I just didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t know if I’d even see you again.  I didn’t want to get…anyone’s hopes up,” she tried to explain.  Elvis nodded slowly and sighed.  “I understand, baby.  But, I should probably tell ya, my hopes are up.”  He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.  Ruby stared up into his beautiful face, noticing how his long lashes fanned over his cheeks. “I think I didn’t want to admit it to myself,” she said softly, “but so are mine.”  Elvis leaned down and pressed his lips gently to hers.

Ella cleared her throat behind them and they nervously jumped apart, looking like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.  “If you two are done playing kissy-face, can you tell me if my costume looks okay?” Ella asked as Elvis and Ruby tried to suppress their smiles.  Ella was wearing a pink dress that Ruby had made and had her hair in braided pigtails with big bows.  “I wanted to be Marcia Brady, but mom made me dress as Cindy instead,” Ella announced with some disappointment in her voice.  “Probably no one will even know who I am because my hair’s too dark to be Cindy.”  “You can dress as a teenager when you are a teenager,” Ruby said.  “I’m practically a teenager,” Ella mumbled.  “Well, I think ya look mighty cute,” Elvis said with a grin.  “Plus ya don’t wanna grow up too fast, people give ya more candy when you’re younger,” he added.  Ella considered that and nodded in agreement.  “I think you’re onto something there, Mr. Presley,” she said, sounding pleased.  “Please jus’ call me Elvis, dear,” he said with a warm smile.  “Okay Elvis dear,” Ella said, making all three of them giggle.

The doorbell rang and Ella grabbed her trick-or-treat bag.  “My friends are here!  I’m going, mom!” she called out as she ran for the door.  “Hold on, give me a hug,” Ruby said as she pulled Ella in close.  “Be careful and stay together.  Don’t forget your overnight bag,” she added.  “Don’t worry, we’ll be careful. And I expect the full long story when I come home,” Ella said sternly. She gave Ruby a quick kiss on the cheek, waved goodbye to Elvis, and rushed out the door.  “Overnight bag?” Elvis asked.  “Oh, yeah, she’s staying over at a friend’s house after trick-or-treating,” Ruby explained.  “Hmm, we have the house to ourselves?” Elvis said, his endearing crooked smile coming out in full force, making Ruby’s heart melt and her core tingle.  “Well, after we give out the candy,” she said with a wink.  As if on cue, the first group of kids rang the doorbell.  “You should stay out of sight so you don’t cause a commotion,” Ruby instructed as she went to grab the bowl of candy.  

Ruby returned to find that Elvis had already opened the door and was signing autographs for a group of starstruck parents while the kids looked on confused, wondering where the candy was.  She thought about scolding him but saw how much he seemed to be enjoying himself and decided to just let him have fun.  Elvis continued to pass out candy with Ruby and sign autographs until the last trick-or-treater had come through.  They sat next to each other on the couch, Elvis’ arm around Ruby’s shoulders.  “I guess we had just enough candy,” Elvis announced, looking at the empty bowl on the coffee table.  “Actually,” Ruby said with a sly smile, “I set aside a bag of peanut butter cups for you since you love them so much.”  Elvis’ face lit up like a little boy’s.  “Aw, that’s sweet of ya honey,” he said, kissing her forehead.  “Do you want me to get them?” Ruby asked.  “Well, I s-s-sorta had a different treat in mind right now,” he murmured, his hand creeping up under the hem of her dress.  Ruby’s heart started racing.  “Mmm, I think I could help you with that,” she whispered.  She stood up from the couch and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the bedroom with her.

As soon as they got to the bed, Ruby pushed his jacket off his shoulders and pulled his shirt off.  “Oh, God, I’ve missed this,” she whispered as she ran her hands lightly over his chest and stomach, feeling the hair tickle her fingertips.  She loved the way Elvis always seemed to tremble slightly when they were intimate with each other.  It reminded her that he was just a human being who got nervous like anyone else.  She smiled as she took in how beautiful he looked.  Elvis smiled back shyly as he unbuttoned his pants and let them drop down to the ground, revealing his bare body to her.  “‘M sorry, honey, he’s not quite ready yet,” he motioned down to his soft cock hanging below the slight swell of his belly.  “No need to be sorry, he probably just needs a little loving,” Ruby said as she pulled her dress over her head and removed her bra and underwear.  Elvis stared at her naked body in admiration as she pushed him onto the bed.  “Let me take care of him,” she whispered lustily.  

Ruby started placing gentle open-mouthed kisses on Elvis’ lower abdomen and thighs, making a circle of wet spots around his cock as she caressed his balls in her hand.  A low moan came from his lips and she moved her mouth closer to his shaft, letting her warm breath tease him.  His moans grew louder and Ruby watched in awe as he started growing hard before her eyes, the head of his cock peeking out from the foreskin.  She leaned in and kissed this most sensitive spot, letting her tongue run over it, and Elvis let out a symphony of moans.  “Oh, Ruby, he’s sure ready now,” Elvis called out.   Ruby gave him one last lick and then laid next to Elvis as he turned to roll on top of her.  He reached down and ran his fingers through her folds, making sure she was wet enough to enter.  “Damn, baby, you’re so wet.  Is that cuz of me?” he asked with a proud grin.  “Of course,” Ruby blushed.  “That’s what happens when I get to lick all over your body and hear you moan my name.”  “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from, sweet red Ruby,” Elvis whispered as he thrusted into her tight little hole, the full weight of his body pressed against hers.  “Oh, Elvis, this is what I’ve been waiting for,” Ruby moaned, the pleasure consuming her immediately. “I know, baby, I know ya needed me to come take care of ya,” Elvis grunted as he continued thrusting deep inside of her.  After two months of waiting for this moment, the ecstasy washed over the two of them with an intensity Ruby could barely take.  She couldn’t stop from calling out Elvis’ name over and over as her orgasm hit so hard her entire body shook with pleasure.  With sweat falling from his forehead, Elvis stuttered up into her with a satisfied groan, filling her up and collapsing down onto her soft body, his head nuzzled against her chest.  

“Oh, wow, Elvis, that was amazing,” Ruby whispered rapturously as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair.  “It sure was, sweet red Ruby,” Elvis responded.  “Elvis? Y’know how you have that, um, extra layer on your, y’know…” Ruby trailed off, for some reason feeling embarrassed to say the word foreskin. She could feel him tense up slightly as he realized what she was referring to. She quickly blurted out, “Well I love it! When you, um, go inside of me, I can feel it move back and forth a little bit and it feels amazing,” she ended in a whisper, her face turning beet red with this admission. Elvis relaxed and let out a little laugh. “I’m glad you love it, baby, I guess we were made for each other. Cuz he sure loves bein’ in there.” “I think your whole body is just perfect,” Ruby couldn’t stop the compliments as she continued to stroke his hair. He didn’t say anything more, but she could feel him smiling against her chest.  He leaned up and gave her nipple a little lick, laughing at how it sent a shiver through her overstimulated body.  Ruby blushed and smiled down at him.  “Y’know what I could use now, baby?” Elvis asked, looking up into her face, his eyes twinkling.  “Some peanut butter cups.”  Ruby laughed and kissed his sweet lips.

Tag list: @ellie-24 @whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @lookingforrainbows @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @arrolyn1114

[floralcyanide]

What about number 13 from smut list no 1, (high on adrenaline kind of sex) with Javi for the saturday night sleepover? 👀

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!

find this prompt and more, here!

Javi Rivera x Fem!Reader

prompt: high on adrenaline kind of sex

You were not expecting the first chase with Javi to go as great as it did.

It’s been years since the two of you have chased together, and the last time went awry very quickly, the two of you losing all of your friends in the process. Javi had the opportunity to figure out how tornadoes work and needed your help. So here you are, the two of you driving in the direction away from the tornado that successfully got the Storm Par to work. 

Javi is grinning from ear to ear, and so are you. It’s nice to see your best friend smile like this. Years ago, you were often the reason why he would be caught in a good mood. But ever since the accident, you haven’t had the chance to see Javi in a state of grace. 

Once you’re a reasonable distance away, Javi parks on the edge of a wooded area. The two of you look at each other and burst out laughing.

“That was insane! I can’t believe it worked!” you cry out,  hurriedly unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out of the truck.

You shield your eyes as you watch the tornado disappear into the sky, Javi exiting the truck and joining you where you stand.

“It worked because of your help,” Javi elbows you in the side.

“Oh, don’t forget that it was you who convinced me to come here,” you wag a finger at Javi, who unlocks the truck bed door, laying it down so the two of you could sit on it.

You hop up on it, “Any word from Scott or the others yet?”

“I think we’re all too busy celebrating,” Javi says, slotting himself between your open legs.

“How would you like to celebrate, then?” you bite your lip, eyeing Javi as he leans in close to you.

“Like this,” he encloses the space between the two of you, bringing his lips to yours.

There’s always been something between you and Javi, and you could never quite put your finger on it. But the soaring adrenaline and mind numbing energy pumping through you only makes you eager to find out. You lay back on the truck bed, Javi following as he hovers over you, not breaking the kiss. In a hyper frenzy, both of you remove what clothing you can in order to get access to one another.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Javi kisses along your neck hungrily.

“Oh, I have an idea of how long,” you say jokingly, carding your fingers through his curls.

“Really?” Javi kisses down your chest and along the edge of your bra, “How long then?”

“Since college,” you say, “So how about you get on with it?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Javi pushes your underwear aside, plunging two fingers inside your already soaking cunt.

You gasp, immediately grinding on his fingers. Your heart is racing still, the high still not subsiding. Javi feels just as pumped up on the adrenaline from moments ago, and wastes no time to pull his underwear down and his length out. Javi fills you up quickly, but allows you to adjust to him before moving. 

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” you groan, your hands gripping Javi’s biceps.

Javi chuckles as he thrusts particularly hard into you, “I can say the same about you.”

He picks up his pace, both of your pulses racing in your ears as you meet his thrusts. It’s sloppy and high octane, you’re panting and sweating but you don’t care. All you know is that this feels so good- so right. Javi fits with you like a perfect puzzle piece. You cum around him with a loud cry, your orgasm rocking your body. Javi pulls out and finishes on your stomach, nearly collapsing into you. With what little energy you can muster from the adrenaline crash, the two of you get cleaned up and redressed, climbing back into the truck.

Javi checks his phone to see several missed calls from Scott and the team.

“Looks like the celebration is over.”

[be-my-ally]

Do it again. Please.

I HATE COMING UP WITH TITLES.

now this could be, a little bit, related to empty promises - or perhaps an AU off of it but you could also read it completely as a stand alone one shot. Fulfilling a request + prompt fill for ‘do it again. please.’  kinda imagining as if e + p’s month long honeymoon had gone so well they’d extended it rather than returning home 2 days later. 

pairing: fem!reader x Elvis Presley (1967)

warnings : 18+,18+, pwp. As always a lil bit of foreplay, teeny use of the term daddy, p in v sex, e can't stop + accidentally cums in her, couple of spanks here and there, tiny bit of innocence play? I use the term labia minora idk I have no excuse.

wc: miss VERY concise smut! 2.5k. 

The honeymoon period seems never-ending, you’ve been together now for almost three years, although only married for a little while - five weeks to the day tomorrow. You’re still celebrating every day like it’s an anniversary, wrapped in one another and cocooned in a bubble from Hawaii and now in California. Elvis hasn’t had to work for a little while, he’d taken the month off for your honeymoon, and extended that by a few weeks, despite the near-constant calls from the Colonel now. He’s talking about doing something new, something different, but for the moment you’re content to have him with you, even if you can tell he’s starting to itch to get back to the studio. He keeps it mostly to himself though, and you’re doing your best to keep him entertained in any way you can. Despite the months, years, of all the practicing and the training, the novelty of actual sex hasn’t worn off yet for either of you and you can’t deny that you use it to your advantage. 

Nonetheless, just because you’d had sex now didn’t mean Elvis didn’t still like doing other things; your thighs were still slightly sore from where he’d pushed them together to fuck in between last week, cock just about bumping against your folds. He’d gotten you off with his tongue before, ensuring a slick passage - using your own wetness as lubrication. But still, he’d fucked you raw, your inner thighs red and rashed. You knew he’d felt a little guilty about it, watching you run around in your swimsuit, marks clearly visible but it hadn’t stopped him from taking you on the sun-lounger and palming at the marks while he did so, after he’d sent his father and the mafia boys he couldn’t live without away. You should have perhaps been more embarrassed, knowing that they all knew why they’d been sent on a sudden errand, but in actuality you wanted him as much as he did you. Any reservations you might have had had been quickly forgotten as soon as he’d revealed his golden skin in the secluded garden. 

You’d been out to dinner tonight, a fairly casual affair, but still an opportunity to dress up a little - although that dress was now thrown over the back of the bathroom door. You loved to see him in his element, relaxed and happy and it hadn’t taken much, the briefest of touches from your pinky finger on the walk out of the restaurant, a thigh knocking against his in the car for him to get the hint that you wanted to go straight to bed once you returned. He’d stripped you almost immediately as the door shut - barely taking the time to appreciate your special underwear. 

You’re swiftly laid back on the bed, his arms lowering you as he kisses you, and he pulls away to  take a second to look down at all of you. You can’t help but preen a little, pushing your chest up and your hips back as you watch him watch you. He’s slimmer than he was at the start of the year, it shows in the thin corded muscle that surrounds his ribs and in the way his powerful thighs give way to slender shins and legs - you don’t prefer him one way or another, but with his summer tan, sweat glistening across his skin, catching on the hairs on his chest and arms he looks like a goddamn vision. An image you couldn’t have even dreamt up. His hair, that had been so carefully styled in the day, now falling across his forehead - flopping down, you can’t resist reaching up, breaking the lingering silence of both your gazes, twisting a strand in your fingers. 

He presses a kiss to your mouth - going where your hands tug him, before breaking your hold as he pulls back, his fingers sliding into you as he does. You moan at the intrusion but you’re so aroused that they barely catch on your entrance, and a little part of your brain that’s still capable of coherent thought wonders how, barely six months ago you couldn’t even get a finger in and now he’s molded you to him, carved out a space to slot in so perfectly that his fingers can just slip in. He crooks them just so - knowing intimately the exact spots to make you writhe. He takes his time, somehow despite his impatience in literally every other part of his life, he very rarely rushes this - ensuring that you’re not only wanting him by the time he moves on but that you’re desperate. Today is no exception, his other hand comes up to fiddle with a nipple, and you’re already sensitive enough that by the time he rolls one between his fingertips you can’t help but clench on his other hand, a jolt being sent straight down your belly. He continues to slip his fingers in and out of you, spreading them a little before nudging at your entrance with a third. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve done this now, his penchant for dirty talk still surprises you, he’s incapable of silence constantly muttering praise against your skin. He moves his thumb, rubbing up the slick inner folds of your labia minora to your hitherto neglected clitoris. He’s narrating as he does; 

“That’s it baby, Jesus Christ look at how wet you are - all for me, ain’t that right? Just gotta, gotta find that lil’ button of yours, get the right spot.” And he does. A swipe of his guitar roughened thumb and your body lifts from the bed, hips jerking. He laughs at you, a little cruelly, as your breathing hitches, eyes closing about to beg for more before he pulls his fingers out. 

You shift on the bed, still slightly aghast at how filthy he is - holding his hand up and spreading his fingers, a line of your slick still connecting the two. You watch, breathe catching in your throat as he puts them in his own mouth, eyelashes fluttering. Your hips buck of their own accord and from his position between your spread thighs he presses his other hand on your tummy holding you down. You squirm, and he pulls out his now spit-slicked fingers from his mouth, pressing them back down to your burning core. He slips between the folds of your labia, fingers catching the puffy, wet, skin. 

“I’m…I’m ready - El, please - please.” He grins, eyes still focussed where his fingers continue to play with you. You groan, clenching around nothing, desperate for something - for more. 

He steadies you, lining himself up and pressing into you. You feel every inch, every centimetre of him as he pushes into you until he’s pressed in to the hilt - your legs being forced wider to accommodate him. There’s the hint of a burning stretch, but with barely a finger over your clit you can feel yourself relaxing into him, Little Elvis burrowing into the warm little home he’d created for himself. A home that had lain dormant, until Elvis as Pygmalion had moulded it to his exact dimensions - your vagina, in fact your whole body, his own Galatea. 

He thrusts into you, famous hips doing their job as he grips your thighs and knees. You crunch up, unable to stop yourself, at the mounting pleasure - even though you’re not convinced it could be that attractive to have you thrashing about below him. But he breathes a laugh - it turning into a groan as he pulls out and pushes into you again, your body arching back. 

“How’re you -“ He’s breathless, gasping out the words, “how’re you still so goddamn jumpy, so fucking jumpy like a lil baby rabbit honey, like you still ain’t used to it,” he’s practically just rambling and you zone out, letting his words wash over you as you concentrate just on his tone and the movements of his body in yours. “God that’s fucking it, yes, oh lord, how’s your yittle cunt so tight still, fit me so goddamn perfectly.” You try to clutch at his arms, where he’s holding your waist, and he pulls out, briefly, flipping you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and back to him. You don’t have time to protest, even though you don’t like it on your front as much, your breath snatched away by his sudden manhandling. You turn your face, 

“Oh - El, daddy, I don’t -” He just pulls you back to him though, forcing your legs apart again, and burying himself back into your warm heat. 

“I know, I know baby, but just, just for a little while, give me this -” He sounds moderately apologetic, although not very sincere, its hard to hold a conversation with his cock rocking in and out of you with every roll of his hips but you do your best. 

“Ok, bu-but, but tomorr- “ His hand comes down on your ass - you jump, but can’t help the moan that follows as he interrupts your attempts at bargaining. 

“No baby, you’ll give me it because I want it.” He growls, “Because you’re mine.” His hand comes down again, you can feel the sudden surge of wetness at that, his voice so rough it’s like he’s talking straight to your core. “Say it baby, say you’re mine. We’re married now darlin’. You belong - to - me.” You repeat it back to him, stuttering, promising that you’re;

“I’m - oh - all yours, all yours daddy,” You can hear the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, and the feel of his hands gripping into the marks he’d just made, “I’m, oh god, I’m - I belong to you,” 

“Good girl.” You can’t see him, but you just know from his tone that he’s nodded to himself self-satisfactorily. 

Oh,” Your eyes are rolling back in your head as he continues to fuck into you, your nipples catching on the bedspread as your body is dragged back and forth. “Oh fuck, fuck.” He spanks you again, 

“None-a that fucking filthy language from you baby.” You can’t hear the smirk in his voice, too lost in the sensations, babbling an apology; 

“Sorry, sorry, oh-“ He pulls you out again, and you whine at the loss. But soon his hand is back, finger stroking down your labia where you now remain open, puffy lips slipping between his fingers, slick with evidence of your arousal. His fingertips stroke around your tender entrance and you moan, hips grinding in circles, so close to the edge that you can feel it building in your stomach, only he pulls his hand away just at that moment. Elvis flips you onto your back and lowers himself to be just above you, sinking into you again. You’ve been pretty well acquainted with a multitude of different positions now, but you know you both have a soft spot for the simple ones. The ability to watch his face, eyebrows scrunching and mouth falling open, pouty lips pushed forward when his own pleasure mounts. The ability to hold onto his shoulders as he rocks into you, or pull him into a - usually pretty messy - kiss. He’s been dragging it out for so long now that it doesn’t take long for you to feel the edge again, and he reaches down with one hand, slipping it between your sticky sweaty bodies. 

You’ve not managed this many times, only once before - he’s had to get you off with his fingers or tongue before or after, but as he hits just the right angle again, fingers rubbing over your clit in little circles - the internal and external stimulation combining to send you over the edge, body clenching tight. Your hips grind down in circular movements as you clamp down on him, 

“Oh fuck - fuck, fuck baby, that feels so - oh shit, shit.” You feel him suddenly freeze, twitching inside you, the pulse of his sudden spurt of ejaculate deep within you. You pant, interrupting his swearing even as his hips start to move again, 

“Wha- What,” You swallow, trying to talk around a tongue that suddenly feels too big for your mouth, “What was that?” He groans, his hips pressing himself tight against you before he pulls away with a reluctant sigh, rolling over onto his back beside you,

“S’ok, baby, s’ok -  just oh god I just, I couldn’t stop - god you’ve made such a perfect little bitty home for me, Christ darlin’, I couldn’t stop.” He sounds almost a little nervous, and you wriggle, feeling the way your combined wetness was starting to cool. 

“Oh....” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, a steady pulse, you’d liked it. “….do it again. Please?” He collapses, head falling back onto the pillow -

“Darlin’ I can’t just go again,” You frown, 

“Why?" You blink over at him innocently, watching the flush dissipate from his cheekbones, "You make me do it again all the time.” You writhe next him as if to demonstrate your point. His hair flips forward as he shakes his head, rosy cheeks evident. 

“God, baby, men can’t just - I’d hafta, gotta get myself primed again, I can’t just do it again this second.” You pout, feeling it start to slip out of you, the strange combination of its thickness against the thinness of your own orgasm and the tiny bit of sting where it touches your slightly sore entrance. 

“Unless you’ve changed your mind ‘bout that baby honey you gotta," He sounds like he's thinking fast, "gotta push it out at least.” You frown, trying to regain control of your trembling limbs, 

“El- I don’t -“ He interrupts you, 

“Shh darling, listen to me, promise it’ll be fine you just gotta, go on baby…” 

He groans, holding your legs open, leaning over to watch it bubble out of you, dribbling down onto the bedspread. You moan, 

“Oh, El-it’s I can feel it,” 

“That’s it little, quick ‘fore they get swimmin’.” You groan, rolling your hips at the sensation, and he reaches over, long fingers scooping it onto your inner thighs. You feel your tummy twitch with interest and you squirm as he pats at you a couple of times before wiping his hand on the cover. 

“I… I liked that. Maybe… maybe you could do that again sometime.” He chuckles at you, and you both lay there panting for a second, recovering from the exertion and excitement. He gets up first - rolling you off the cover, throwing a washcloth your way - you do a cursory swipe but can’t get up the energy to do much more. Content to lie there as he pulls all the sheets up to make up for the loss of the additional layer of the bedspread. He climbs back into the bed, joining you where your eyelids are starting to droop closed. 

His arms wrap around you, as he rolls into you, pulling you close to growl into your ear, “Jesus baby, where did that come from? You goddamn little minx,” He puts on a high-pitched voice, “What was that Elvis? Do it again!” You were pretending to be asleep, eyes tightly closed but you can’t help but snicker, his fingers finding their way under your rib cage - digging in, tickling you as you give up the pretense of sleep, caught out, squirming around and giggling. 

tags:

@thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @vintageshanny

[therealslimshakespeare]

To the sweet anon who requested newlywed, pregnant with twins and going at it like bunnies Sarge…

it is coming, I’ve retained your ask for final posting but uh…it’s coming and it’s a lot and to be perfectly honest it went off the rails into way more than smuttiness but that comes with the territory of my writing, eh? Hope you’ll enjoy and it won’t be too long now. 🌸🤍🌸

[ellie-24]

Just A Fan Part 2

Idk why this took so long! I have no excuse! Here's part two for those who are still interested.

You might want to catch up on Part 1, it's really been a while. Sorry again!

And, once again, just very self indulgent fluff ahead! Also, this is a response to the writing prompt "Elvis in a car"

Word count: 4.1 k

March 24th 1977, Amarillo Civic Center, TX

Cara let out a watery laugh, her cheeks already hurting from smiling so much and quickly wiped away the tear that rolled over her cheek, trying to regain her composure. Not even five minutes had passed since he got on stage and she already felt a nervous breakdown approaching, just being in the same room as him was enough for that to happen.

The zipper of the Arabian jumpsuit he wore was pulled dangerously low, offering her a wonderful view of his hairy chest and belly. She wasn't the only one having a hard time controlling her emotions though, the whole auditorium buzzed with excitement, shrill screeching filled the air and a woman behind her just straight up sobbed hysterically at the sight of him. Cara would lie if she said she didn't do the same thing when she saw him live for the first time though.

She quickly focused back on Elvis after taking a deep breath. With a heavy heart she noticed that he didn't look too well. Although the nearly blinding spotlights made it a bit hard to see his face - she wondered how he even navigated on stage with the bright light probably blurring his vision - she could tell there were heavy bags under his eyes. He also sounded rather tired when he sang, often slurring the words and carrying a piece of paper with him, explaining that he didn't know the words to every song.

His behaviour was very different from the easy-going and relaxed man she met in Hawaii. There was such a lightness and ease about him then, something she didn't see right now. The exhaustion was written all over his face and showed in his at times almost sluggish movements. Cara was convinced that the vacation would give him some well-deserved rest and some fresh energy, but apparently, she'd been wrong.

Still, he powered through it, eager to give a good performance despite the circumstances. Suddenly she felt very thankful for the over-enthusiastic fans around her. He seemed to appreciate the audience's positive reactions, his mood evidently improving with the heavy applause and cheering. His smiles got wider and more genuine as he started engaging more and more with the crowd.

Cara quickly scrambled to the front, her entire body tingling with nerves and excitement. He stood up straight again after handing out some scarves to a few crying women a few feet away from her. With anticipation written all over her face, she watched as he leisurely strolled in her general direction.

But would he remember her? It's only been about two weeks since their encounter in Hawaii and, after all, he's had it specifically arranged for her to come after promising her a scarf at one of his shows. But he was Elvis Presley, the number of people he must've already met, the number of fans, it's probably impossible to keep track of everyone.

And Cara wasn't entirely sure if she'd really stand out from that crowd. Or any crowd, for that matter. The prospect that he may have actually forgotten about her hurt, and her face fell for a moment. The uncomfortable feeling only increased when his eyes quickly flitted past her, not even acknowledging her. She forced herself to take a deep breath and told herself she wouldn't hold it against him if he didn't recognise her. Just being here was more than enough.

Elvis let out a small laugh at something Charlie said to him and accepted the cup of coke he was holding out for him with a sniff. After letting out a low whistle he took a sip and used the scarf that was wrapped around his neck to wipe away some of the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. A brunette woman next to Cara suddenly started yelling frantically, asking him to let her have the cup he still held in his hand.

He pretended to look confused for a second, raising one cocky eyebrow at her. "I'm not wearing one, honey." He then joked. More scarves and also occasional kisses were given out to lucky fans and she got more and more impatient. She called out his name a few times, hoping he'd notice her. Eventually, his eyes landed on her and he approached her with a wide grin.

"Hey there, sweetheart." He drawled as he leaned down and wrapped the scarf around her neck, using it to pull her closer to him. Cara gasped as she was suddenly pulled forward and stood on her tiptoes in an effort to make herself as tall as possible so he wouldn't have to crouch down as much. Watching him bend down the whole time made her own back hurt and she was a good twenty years younger than him. His lips felt just like she remembered them, soft and warm and she had a hard time resisting the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down, on top of her.

Elvis pulled away from her and turned around, walking away again. But then he suddenly whipped his head around with a playful smile. He cocked his eyebrow at her and jokingly narrowed his eyes at her before doing an exaggerated double take. His ring-clad finger pointed accusingly at her, looking like he was warning her. Warning her not to pass out. A wide grin spread on her face when she realised that he did remember her. He winked at her when he saw her euphoric expression and there was this mutual understanding between them once again.

His eyes found hers every now and then throughout the rest of the concert. Gauging her reaction whenever he hit a note especially well or joked around, cracking himself up or playfully bantered with members of the band. Giving her a mischievous glance before moving his hips or jiggling his leg in the way he knew made everyone lose their minds. It made her heart flutter every time.

He's just performed a few gospel numbers and now the opening notes to How Great Thou Art started playing when somebody lightly tapped her shoulder. "Miss?" A man's voice sounded next to her, making her whirl around.

She squinted at him, her eyes flashing with recognition, though she couldn't quite place him. She's definitely seen him before. He stepped a bit closer before speaking up again. "Miss, you're gonna want to come along now before the big rush."

She blinked and inclined her head, not sure if she heard him right, only half listening to him anyway, as Elvis was currently performing one of her favourites. It quite bothered her that he just started talking to her while he was singing. She also found it rather rude that he wouldn't introduce himself. "Huh?"

"Come on now." He insisted, his tone laced with an urgency she didn't quite understand.

"But-" She backed up a little and looked back up at the stage, confused and not wanting to let her idol out of her sight.

"Boss said so." He nodded towards the stage. In that moment it suddenly clicked that the man standing in front of her was Joe Esposito, she'd also seen him in Hawaii as part of Elvis' entourage. Her eyes went wide, not quite daring to think about the implications.

"What?" She asked again, the question not even necessarily directed towards him.

He sighed and once again motioned for her to get moving. "Damn girl, just come along, boss wants to see ya. He asked me to bring you to the car."

"Uh-"

Elvis wants to see her. He asked for her. How does one process this information exactly?

"But-" she weakly gestured towards the stage, wanting him to understand that she wanted to watch the show until the very end.

"It'll be easier if I bring you the car now."

"Elvis asked for me?" She asked, wanting some clarification from him again.

Joe let out an exasperated sigh and nodded, beginning to look rather annoyed.

The prospect of talking to Elvis in a few minutes prompted her to finally agree, though it also made her feel kind of lightheaded again. "Okay."

He nodded with a curt "Thanks" and turned around, indicating with a wave of his hand that she was supposed to follow him.

She started trotting behind Joe as he made his way through the crowd. At one point she was sure she heard him mutter something under his breath about not wanting to deal with Elvis' bad mood tonight, making her frown.

Joe eventually opened the back door for her, the chilly night air a stark contrast to the almost sweltering heat in the auditorium. She looked down at herself, inwardly cursing the outfit she chose. She wore the same sundress she'd worn when they first met in Hawaii. It served both a practical purpose, increasing the chance that he'd recognise her, but also a symbolic one.

That's at least what she told herself over and over when she realised March in Texas just wasn't the same as March in Hawaii. You wear something that's not weather-appropriate, you pay the price, simple as that. But the relatively simple concept of causality seemed way too complicated when her mind was utterly preoccupied with a single thing. A single man in fact.

She was grateful when Joe ushered her into the car, the plush cushion of the backseat feeling grounding against the back of her thighs. Everything seemed to happen in a blur as she was still wondering what the hell was happening right now. Elvis wants to see her.

It was eerily quiet in the car after all the screaming - her own and everyone else's - and her ears were ringing as she expectedly looked through the tinted glass towards the back door from which he'd emerge any second now. In an attempt to look a bit more presentable, she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle some of the knots that got there from jumping up and down for nearly two hours.

A few more minutes passed, her heart nearly beating out of her ribcage as she waited, until the door opened and his unmistakable silhouette was rushed over to the car, the white, glittery jumpsuit standing out in the darkness of the back alley. Cara sucked in a breath when she heard his wonderful voice.

"What do we have here? The pretty little girl from the front row just sitting there, waiting for me. What a sweet surprise, I'm a lucky man." He whistled jokingly as if he really hadn't expected her to be there, even though he obviously sent someone out to get her.

He'd barely gotten fully inside the car and she already moved to clutch his arm in a tight grip, unable to stop herself. "Elvis! Oh my god, you were incredible, thank you for letting me be here. Oh my god, I don't even know-"

He chuckled and cupped her burning cheek with his big hand. "Shush, darlin' take a breath, it's okay. Thank you."

Cara nodded and did as he told her. "What am I doing here?" She then blurted out. Elvis wanted to see her. No, she still hasn't processed this information. And now he's here, just casually sitting next to her while she was a shaking mess.

He shook his head in a good-natured way and looked her up and down before gesturing towards her, ignoring her question. "Baby, whatchu even wearin'? I-I mean it looks real pretty, honey, but you'll catch your death in that."

Cara blinked and lowered her gaze, pulling her dress down in an attempt to hide the goosebumps on her legs. That still didn't help to conceal the very evident goosebumps on her arms though. "I didn't think this through, did I?" She muttered, still breathless. A small blush rose on her cheeks as she weakly hugged herself.

He let out a small laugh at her silliness and reached out to run his warm hand over her forearm, causing another shiver to go through her body. His eyes twinkled gleefully and she could see the dimples in his soft cheeks as he smiled. God, he looked so handsome. "And ya didn't even bring a jacket?"

"Forgot it at the hotel." She shrugged with a shy smile. Truth is she would've forgotten her head if it wasn't attached to her body due to her nerves going crazy all day, anticipation the only thing occupying her mind for the past few weeks.

He playfully clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrow at her before reaching next to him, pulling at a big piece of fabric. "Gonna break ya teeth will all that chattering and shaking." He muttered as he draped his coat over her shoulders. "Better, little one?"

It took her a few seconds to answer his question. The only thing on her mind was that the heavy coat smelled exactly like him. She only wished he would've worn it before, so his warmth would surround her as well. It was big enough that she could use it as a blanket and she wiggled around in her seat, pulling her legs up in an attempt to cover her whole body with the precious garment. As subtle as she could she nosed at the fabric, inhaling his scent that was both nerve-racking and comforting to her. With a small nod and a shaky exhale, she eventually turned towards him again. "Thank you."

"Can't have ya freezin' to death now can I?"

Cara bit her lip, not sure how to articulate what was going through her head. The post-concert adrenaline and euphoria still pumping through her veins made everything feel a bit disconnected and foggy. Not only did she get to see him today, but she was sitting in the back of a car with him. Because he wants to see her. And he had kissed her again. And he just gave her his coat. It was too much. "But... and don't get me wrong, but, uh, what am I doing here?"

"You're coming with me, honey." He offered like it was the most natural thing.

The simple statement gave her butterflies and she swallowed hard. "But why?" She whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Because I wanna spend some time with you." He scooted closer to her and gently draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her to his side. "Get to know you a little. You don't mind that, do ya, sweetheart?" The low murmur made her skin prickle, a very faint tremor still running through her entire body. She inhaled sharply at the contact and tried her best to hold his gaze. It was almost painfully tender.

No, she didn't mind at all.

"Are you sure? Because I'm not too sure if there's anything interesting about me." She shrugged with a small smile.

An endearing grin spread across his beautiful face and Cara felt an odd sense of pride. Making him smile had to be one of the best feelings in the world. Along with kissing him of course.

"Oh, honey, I'm sure that's not true." He drawled and played with a strand of her hair that fell over her shoulder. The gesture was so intimate, so familiar, it nearly made her cry again.

"I don't get it." She murmured, more to herself, just unable to believe that this was happening. To her, out of all the people.

"Ya certainly know how to leave a lasting impression, Cara." He continued teasingly, gently nudging her.

"Oh god, no, please don't." She almost whined as the memories of their first meeting replayed in her mind and tried to to crawl further into the coat to hide herself completely. To this day she felt utterly mortified by her reaction and cringed every time she thought about it.

Elvis pulled her even closer and cooed right into her ear. "Aw, baby, that's good, trust me. You're a charming little thing."

She still avoided his gaze, feeling utterly overwhelmed by his presence and proceeded to hide her face in her hands.

"No, no, don't gotta be so nervous, darlin'." He ran his finger over her wrists, gently prompting her to look at him.

She obliged and lowered her hands before turning her head, finding his eyes again. A single drop of sweat rolled down his forehead, over his cheek. Her fingers were itching to reach out and just wipe it away. "I'm trying. I just, just... love you so much."

A bashful smile formed on his lips and his cheeks turned slightly pink at her heartfelt confession. "That's awfully sweet of you. I love you too." He murmured and kissed her temple with a reverence that momentarily made her forget how to breathe.

The thing was, she genuinely believed him when he said this. His tone was so sincere and earnest, his eyes seemingly looked right into her soul. Never before has she encountered someone with such a big heart, so much capacity to love, such an ability to make anyone feel special. It made Joe's offhand remark from earlier sting even more. She leaned further into his touch and basked in the feeling of being at the centre of his attention right now.

His hotel room was dark, the curtains blocking out any light from the city below and rather cool with the AC whirring steadily. Cara looked around and found the room, or suite rather, to be empty, making her realise that she was now alone with him. Really alone with him. No other fans, not even his close friends who always seemed to be around. She had him all to herself now.

He sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face, grimacing shortly before looking at her expectedly. Slowly, she let herself sink into the soft pillows and pulled off her shoes, relieving her aching ankle. She pulled up her legs and shifted her body to look at him.

"Are you okay?" Cara asked carefully.

He blinked and raised his eyebrows before giving her a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. "Don't worry 'bout me, honey."

A small nod and silence followed. "... I think I'm gonna keep this one as well." She chuckled and gestured to the coat still hanging off her small frame.

"Looks prettier on ya anyway." He grinned, making her snort. "I-I'm real happy ya came... Been thinkin' about ya." He added slowly.

His words made her tummy flip. "Of course I came." Cara whispered with a puzzled smile. Why would he assume any different? "I've been looking forward to seeing you again so much."

He cleared his throat and brushed over her hair with a lazy lopsided grin. "What did ya think of the show? And be honest, little one."

Cara's eyes widened, taken aback for a second at the fact that he wanted her opinion. She didn't feel qualified enough to answer, she only knew that she loved every second of it. Just like she enjoyed every second of the other three concerts she's been to. With his face plastered all over her room and his voice lulling her to sleep almost every night she wasn't sure how objective she could be.

"I had the best time ever! The way you sang Hurt, it was so beautiful... and of course... the kiss." She blushed and fiddled around with the scarf he'd given her. Right now she doubted she'd ever take it off.

"Ya liked that didn't ya? Me too, baby. Best part of the show, I'll tell ya." He gave her a mischievous smile once again, making it feel as if they were sharing a secret. Something special, just between them.

She looked almost demure as she kept running her fingers over the silky scarf, feeling its smoothness on her skin. "It was all so perfect. Everything. As always."

His face softened and he slowly intertwined their fingers. "You're such a sweet thing for saying that." A surprised gasp escaped her when he brought her hand up to his lips to press a small kiss against the back of it. It took every bit of willpower not to start giggling uncontrollably and embarrass herself in front of him again. The way he'd just show affection like this, like they were lovers, made her feel all giddy inside.

"I mean it. I love watching you perform. I can't get enough of it." She insisted.

He looked away and hummed, his face neutral as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over her arms.

She frowned and dared to raise a hand to lightly scratch his coarse sideburns. "What is it?"

He momentarily leaned into her touch, nuzzling her palm and just soaking up her affections for a few seconds. Then he continued hesitantly. "I-I just, I-I feel like-" He stuttered, shaking his head with a huff.

"Like what?" She encouraged and reached out for his hand, cradling his bigger one in hers and squeezing it reassuringly.

Elvis sighed heavily, the lines on his forehead deepening. She squeezed his hand again. "Honey, I know what they're saying about my shows. About me. I-I don't wanna disappoint anyone. I really don't. Still got six shows on this damn tour." He shut his eyes tightly and started massaging his temples as if the mere thought already caused him a headache.

There was an almost unbearable sadness in his face and she knew immediately what he was talking about, of course she did. So, she did the one thing that came to mind every time she read those horrible things or heard someone make a rude comment about him in her presence.

With an eagerness that hopefully conveyed how much she meant it, she shook her head and tightly wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder smelling the sweat there, remnants from the concerts. She smiled and burrowed further into him, lightly caressing his still damp skin. His breathing quickened slightly when she soothingly trailed her fingers from the side of his neck over the thick patches of hair on his chest and the soft swell of his belly.

Her voice was muffled as she tried to make him understand how she felt about him. "No, don't. You're wonderful the way you are. I know it probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but, uh that's what I think. You are always out there, giving everything for your fans. I hate that you feel like this."

Warmth filled her when he slipped his hand beneath the coat and pulled her closer by her waist, his touch burning through the thin fabric of her dress. Being pressed up against his bulk felt like heaven.

"Baby-" He whispered, sounding rather needy all of the sudden. "-means a lot to me. Come here." His tone was soft and tender and matched his actions as he hooked a finger under her chin and let his lips hover over hers.

She felt his warm breath ghosting over her skin and decided to close the gap between them, kissing him with all the love she had for him. He grunted when she nibbled on his bottom lip and played with the hair at the back of his neck. The feeling of his hand squeezing her waist over and over again spurred her on and she hastily threw one leg over his sturdy thighs, straddling him.

"You're so special to me. You are." She emphasized as she broke the kiss and carefully rubbed her nose against his.

He cupped her jaw and brushed his soft lips against the side of her mouth and her cheek. "Nah baby, you're so special to me." His deep blue eyes bore into hers. "So pretty. Wanna love on ya some." He cooed, making her breath hitch.

"Honey, will you stay for the rest of the tour? I need you here with me. Need you real bad." He muttered against her neck.

An odd sense of calm washed over when he lowered his head and trailed little kisses along her jaw and neck. He locked his hands behind her back, holding her close to him while she pressed her face into his soft hair. His satisfied hum informed her that he must feel something similar.

It pleased her that she was able to take some of the pressure away from him, even if it was just for a moment. Their laboured breathing filled the otherwise quiet suite, a peaceful moment within the unpredictable and gruelling tour schedule he had to endure.

Cara nodded vigorously without even thinking about it, ready to do just about anything to make him happy, to keep him happy. Just the way he made her happy.

..................................................................................

A million kisses and hugs to the loveliest of people. @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @from-memphis-with-love @peskybedtime Thank you for helping me and believing in me. You're truly the most awesome emotional support besties an Elvis fan could wish for!!

@wildhorseinkansas