#priscilla presley smut

[precious-little-scoundrel]

“Whatcha got going on tomorrow night?” Ann asks at last, sounding altogether too nonchalant.

Elaine's heart pounds and she purses her lips, sensing a game here. She’s so like Elvis, this new friend of hers, maybe that’s why Elaine gets butterflies in her belly at the chance to see and enjoy Ann, or when the telephone rings and it’s her sweet self sounding like she’s actually had to pace herself from calling Graceland when she knows full well Elvis isn’t home. She calls for Elaine, and something about that makes Elaine bite her nails and kick her feet.

“No, no I wouldn’t dream of it.” Elaine swears, “You just come by Graceland, stay the night, stretch your legs a bit, fill your belly, let me curl your hair.”

“And we can talk about boys.” Thumper agrees, like that’s her return currency for good southern hospitality…and it sorta is.

“Yes, we could talk about boys.” Elaine agrees with Thumper, both knowing that when they say boys, they mean boys such as Naughty, Widdle Fella, Elvis Presley and The Memphis Flash.

Elvis’ old logic that ‘it don’t count if its two girls’ when excusing a night of the three of them rolling in Ann's rough cotton sheets as soon as Viva Las Vegas wrapped, didn’t seem to hold up now. Now it very much did count that they were two girls. Two unsupervised little girls and he was relieved when little Jack stayed with them, but less so when he heard from Jack that they painted their piggies and arm wrestled in their nighties.

“I think we’ve really got his motor thrumming, Thumper.” Elaine feels safe enough to giggle and hears Elvis give only a heart rending:

“Goddamnit, whyyyy!” over the phone in reply.

“Need a defibrillator, boss?” she can hear Marty ask him and hears only petulant moaning about needing a wife in reply.

It did the trick, or at least, part of the trick. The trick of making the Presley’s feel connected to each other again and Larry agreed that it was good, a good step towards normality even if it was a little polyamorous and crowded for a typical marriage. Such phone calls made Elvis feel included and Elaine nearly re-besotted with a man who, when on the other end of a phone line ,sounded desperate and devoted, something her wifely self hadn't felt from him in a little while.

from: An Upcoming Sarge

#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #sarge blurbs #sarge and lil mama #ann margret #thumper/naughty/tink #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis #fic #elvis and me #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fic #army elvis #elvis and priscilla #priscilla presley smut #priscilla movie #priscilla 2023

[veryberryjelly]

bookshop and cafe date with jason todd <3

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

someone headcanoned that jacob elordi is jason todd and i can't get it out of my head .!!.

models in this moodpboard are not any depiction of s/o, just the aesthetic of the photos

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 #·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐝 #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #jason todd x y/n #jacob elordi felt ‘dead inside’ making ‘ridiculous&039; ‘kissing booth’ movies #jacob elordi addresses rumor that he’ll be the next james bond #jacob elordi icons #jacob elordi gifs #jacob elordi details grim diet for elvis presley transformation in priscilla #jacob elordi #saltburn 2023 #saltburn #batfam incorrect quotes #batfam x reader #batfam headcanons #batfam shenanigans #batfam poll #batfamily #wfa #wfa spoilers #batman wfa #batfam wfa #wfa webtoon #wfa season 2 #batfam #dc robin

[angelinajoulie]

At his mercy.

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: dom!Austin Butler x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary: Austin fucks you in his ‘The late late show’ suit.

Warnings: NSFW. SMUT. this is PURE FILTH; age gap; austin is definitely a DOM in this (you can't tell me otherwise); swearing; pet names; fingers sucking; oral (m receiving); size kink; praise kink; austin referring to himself as daddy (just twice); unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it); creampie; cockwarming (sorta??).

a/n: English is not my first language, this is the first time I’ve written from Italian to English and after two months of writing and translating this work I really don't know what came out, so please forgive any mistake✨ leave a comment down here and let me know what you think✨

Enjoy!

It's late at night, the lights outside are already out, and the street lamps are the only ones left to light the wet road while everything around is sleeping and waiting for a new day to come. Not a sound, not a noise is bothering the atmosphere outside except for the sweet rustles of trees on the street as a black Range Rover nears the driveway.

Shortly after, the sudden noise of a door opening makes you skip a beat, taking you off-guard and waking you from your sleep. He is back.

Your eyelids open slowly and you instinctively look at the alarm on the nightstand. 1:30 am.

"As usual," you think.

It takes you a little to realize that you fell asleep too early and didn't wait awake for him— as you always do, but you had a very stressful day at college and you couldn't help yourself to give in to the comfy bed beneath you.

So you decide to wait for him to make his way into the bedroom before you can close your eyes again.

You hear him from upstairs while he tosses the keys on the side table at the entrance, then a series of muffled noises follow.

And then, again, silence.

You feel your eyes getting heavy and you know that you'll fall asleep soon. But not without him.

And noticing he's still not gone upstairs yet you decide to get down to him.

You rise from the bed and a breath of wind wraps around your shoulders as soon as the blanket leaves your body, leading you to wear your white satin robe before going downstairs.

Your bare feet meet every cold step unnoticeably, the high temperature difference between the two floors causing you to shrug.

You're searching for him, your eyes are looking at every corner of the living room while waiting to catch his figure until your feet finally touch the ground.

You see him.

Standing in front of the cupboard against the wall, bottle in his hand as he pours himself a large glass of whiskey.

Austin.

He is wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit from Prada that perfectly matches his blue eyes, the jacket left open to reveal a black mesh shirt, half undone and barely covering his toned, tanned chest.

It suits him heavenly.

His eyes look up to meet yours as soon as he feels your presence.

“Hey” he murmurs in a low and raspy voice.

“Hi” you respond and get closer to him, trying to greet him properly.

Seeing you lean in he puts the bottle back in its place and in no time you feel his arm around your waist. Austin lowers his head for his lips to meet yours in a chaste and tender kiss, the first one after an entire day away from each other.

Your hand travels up his spine, reaching the nape of his neck and starting caressing it, your fingers sneaking between his hair gently as you hold yourself closer to his chest. His body is so warm against yours, his warmth filling your heart completely and making you feel safe in the tight grip of his strong arms.

You’ve missed him so much.

The last period has been very exhausting for him, every day passes between interviews, photoshoots and premieres and he's terribly busy, and considering that you too have your things to do with college and all, you're both forced to be apart from each other. But despite all of this, you always try to do your best to support him, following him at the events when possible or watching him on TV, waiting for him until he gets home— like you should've done today too.

Soon your lips move away with a tiny 'pop' and your eyes meet, a shy smile appearing on both of your faces.

“How was your day?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Great, just a lil tiring” he sighs, caressing your hip gently “have you seen the show?”

You nod without hesitation.

“Of course I did,” a sense of pride overwhelms you seeing him smile slightly at your obviousness “just for you.”

“Really?” he grins, pretending to be surprised as his eyes look down at yours and you nod again.

“Yeah”

“Good girl” he places two of his fingers under your chin, lifting it up for your lips to meet his again in a quick kiss before he pulls away from you and takes the full glass of whiskey in his hand.

You shudder thinking about the pet name.

Good girl...

“And what about you? How was college today?”

Your gaze never leaves him, following each one of his movements while he reaches the couch and takes a seat between the black leather cushions. A shiver runs down your spine, stopping right on your lower stomach. Your mind gets fuzzy, distracting you from his question.

Legs wide apart, broad shoulders resting on the back of the sofa, his right hand on his knee and thigh as the left one brings the edge of the glass towards his mouth, needing a sip. The bitter and yellowish liquid runs down his throat, and his eyes shut just for a second until he swallows it, licking his plump lips after.

You feel yourself throb around nothing at the sight of him manspreading, and your thighs instantly rub together at the thought of every single time you've seen him doing that same thing: eyes closed, lips and tongue wet— not from whiskey.

You don't know why, you don't even know how to explain it to yourself, but seeing him like this sparked something inside you since you saw him on ‘The Late Late Show’ tonight. Something able to keep your mouth shut and your eyes glued to him.

He looks so confident. So dominant. So powerful. Right now, he could move mountains at his pleasure just by lifting a finger if he only wanted to.

And that damn suit... God, you want to sit on his lap so bad.

You'd do it immediately if only you weren't so shy to stand still at your place, merely biting at your lower lip while fantasizing about the mighty man in front of you, a gesture so simple but not enough to go unnoticed— not to him. Not to Austin.

His icy eyes linger on you again and this is the exact moment where you come back to reality and blush.

“What's up?” your awkwardness leads you to open your mouth and talk before you can remember a very important detail.

You still haven't answered his question.

“I asked you” he emphasizes, his tone sharp and deep as he takes in another sip and his tongue runs over his lips to wipe them more slowly and languidly than before, never taking his eyes off of yours “how was college today, angel?”

A mischievous grin appears on his face, the name that always knew how to make your stomach twirl makes you understand everything.

You got caught.

“G-good...” you stutter, coughing slightly as your cheeks are on fire for both arousal and embarrassment in front of that one clear consciousness.

You have a lot on your mind at the moment, a thousand thoughts are running through your head and Austin can read every single one of them.

And you know that he can, you know that he knows what you're thinking about.

Austin knows everything about you.

Because he knows you too well.

He can see from a mile away that something inside you snapped. Your body language is enough to let him know what you want and what you need.

He's tired, the only thing he needs at the moment is to finish his drink, take his clothes off and go to sleep with you, but seeing you wearing nothing but that white silk robe that barely covers your thighs as you bashfully bite your lip, thinking about all the shameless things you want him to do to you, is enough to drive him crazy too.

Because he'll never get enough of you.

He lifts his right hand and two of his fingers gesture you to get close.

“C'mere” his order is like liquid gold for you. You walk towards him without blinking, reaching the couch, stepping in front of him as if you've been waiting to all day.

Austin quickly swallows the last drop of whiskey, leaving the now empty glass on the table before grabbing your wrist and putting you between his spread legs.

His fingers manage to undo the tight bow of your robe, taking it off of you to reveal a lovely black satin nightie under it, one of the many he bought you to make up for the many others he ripped off of your body: soft to the touch, lightweight, with thin stripes and lace hems, short enough to leave your ass exposed.

No doubt that it's his favorite one. You're a goddess in it.

His forefinger traces a line up your thigh and reaches the hem of your nightie, your cheeks reddening as soon as he lifts it up, giving you goosebumps.

Austin feels his cock throb in his pants at the sight.

You aren't wearing panties. As he wished.

“No panties, mh?” you shook your head no, feeling the heat starting to pool right on your bare center and your heart pounding in your chest.

You feel so exposed under his touch, so weak, so small, so vulnerable at the feeling of your skin burning under his lingering hot gaze. Your body is completely at his mercy, poorly covered by that tiny piece of fabric while Austin still has his suit on, fully clothed from head to toe, looking at you like an uncompromising master who's thinking about the right treat for his good submissive. And in the darkest and deepest part of yourself, you're loving it.

You love that he always wants to be in control. You love being controlled by him.

At the moment you just want to follow his rules, please him, worship him, be punished if needed, because you want to be a good girl for him and him only.

“Get on your knees, angel.” and when his order comes, you can do nothing more than obey.

Your knees fall to the floor with a soft thud, hands anchored on his thick thighs as you're face to face with his crotch.

Austin's fingers are under your chin again, a gentle reminder for you to pull your gaze up to his face, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.

His baby blues are darkened, filled with craving and lust as they meet your shy and innocent ones waiting for mercy, for him to choose their fate and what is better for them.

Like an angel at God's feet.

“You're such a good little girl for me, you know this?” his voice gets deeper enough to make you feel soaked as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“So submissive” he praises you in a whisper, his calloused digits moving to caress your cheek, allowing you to surrender to his touch by resting your head on his thigh.

“So responsive” the intense feeling of the cold gold of his rings hits your warm skin and your spine tingles.

His voice is so soft, yet so firm while he praises you that a weak moan leaves your parted lips, Austin taking advantage of it to shove two of his long fingers in your mouth. You know what to do so you embrace them with no hesitation and start sucking, wrapping your lips and tongue around his knuckles as the metallic taste grows strong in your mouth.

“So greedy...”

You are a vision to him, you look so tempting that his hand falls on his crotch to palm himself, his growing erection begging to be freed from his slacks and swallowed up by your throat.

“Bet your pretty little head's just thinking about one thing since I came home, doesn't it?” you nod frantically, his wet digits still in your mouth before he retracts them.

“Use your words.” authority drips from his tone and you sigh.

“Y-yes...” not enough.

“Yes what, angel?” your head lowers again in front of his request but he holds you still in place, grabbing your jaw “Look at me”

“I...” words get stuck in your throat, too shy to let them slip out easily.

“C'mon, don't be shy. Wanna hear you say it” he spurs “what's on your mind?”

Your heart keeps pounding as never before, and at this point, you don't even know how but you say it.

“I want your cock.”

“And where do you want it, angel?” he smirks as he adjusts himself between the cushions, your thighs clenching together to hide the wetness between them.

You love everything about him and the thing you love most is that he's able to read your mind without talking, but right now it seems like he has forgotten about this ability of his own. And you're hating him for this.

Because you know he's doing it on purpose.

He wants to hear your voice.

He wants to hear you beg.

He wants to hear your innocent mouth tell him the dirty things you want from him, the things he knows that make you feel all small and weak.

For this reason you swallow thickly, and gasping with your heart on your sleeve, you answer.

“In m-my mouth.”

“Then take it.” his words are the only green light you needed to put your shyness aside and leave room for the actions you're going to do in silence.

You reach the fly of his trousers with both hands, unzipping it and slipping between the black fabric of his briefs, freeing his cock.

You take it in your hand, he's already hard as it springs free against his stomach, the contact of your fingers against his weak flesh making him gasp.

You feel him. Long, warm and veiny, the tip already reddened and leaking with precum.

Your mouth waters at the sight. You need to make him feel good so bad.

You sit better on your own thighs, adjusting yourself to avoid the feeling of your knees pressing against the carpet before running your hand along his shaft.

Your strokes are slow and gentle, your fingers applying a small amount of pressure, making him breathe heavily.

“Angel...” he's so eager to feel you, the way his hips are bucking up to meet your strokes is silently proving it. So you decide to indulge him.

You lean forward and your lips start kissing his length from the base to the tip. You tease his slit with your thumb before starting to leave kitten licks on his head, feeling his salty taste exploding on your taste buds.

“Mmm, little one...” a deep groan falls from his lips and goes straight to your soaked center, making you shudder in your place “I love feeling your mouth on my cock...”

He seems so much weaker than before, and a strong sense of power washes over you.

“Fuck...” he swears, adjusting the blonde locks falling on his forehead.

The sensation of your warm mouth around his girth already sending him into a state of pure bliss “I'm not going to last long”.

You take a deep breath through your nose and start sucking, slowly moving your head up and down his cock as far as you can, trying your best to please him. His hand ends behind your head, his fingers holding you close to him as he'd never let you go.

“Yes, baby” he grunts “you feel so good”

Arousal is growing more and more inside of you, your pussy getting wetter as juices start flowing out of you because of hearing him moan.

You feel so bold right now, a sense of euphoria takes over you all of a sudden and makes you grind uncontrollably, searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs while your head bobs faster around him.

“Yes, just like that, keep going baby...” you do as you're told. You keep sucking, and Austin's grip between your hair tightens.

The cool metal of his rings presses against the nape of your neck, his knuckles turning white and his protruding veins popping out as he applies more pressure to guide your hips at his own pace, making you feel trapped under his grip— under his control.

Right now you're the one giving him pleasure but it doesn't matter. He'll always know how to control you and be in charge.

Your throat is becoming sore and dry, some locks are covering your sweaty forehead and falling on his pubic bone as little tears are forming at the corners of your eyes.

You're a complete mess.

“My pretty little angel- shit, I'm going to fuck your pussy so good” his promise hits you right at your core and a choked moan escapes from your lips, the vibration is so intense against the head of his cock that he jerks frantically.

“Oh god!” his eyebrows furrow, his tight grip around your neck forces you to swallow more of him until he's hitting the back of your throat.

You can't take it anymore. You pull away from him, your fingers never stopping to rub his cock. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you breathe feverishly, searching for air to fill your lungs but Austin is quicker than any move you can make and leans toward your lips.

“Wanna cum inside you.” he tugs you into his mouth hungrily and you moan in both surprise and excitement. You are both panting at the same pace, his tongue slides into your wide-open mouth starting a steamy make-out session where your lips crash between grunts and bite each other without mercy.

Austin moves both his hands on your covered back and you sit up to climb on top of him. Your legs surround his thick thighs and your hands run everywhere on his sweaty chest and around his neck.

“I love you” he breathes on your lips, between heated kisses “so much”

“I love you too, Aus- ah!” his throbbing cock pushes against your soaked folds, making you gasp and jolt. The thrill is too much, you're so desperate that you start grinding against him, searching for friction to stop the hundreds of shocks running down your spine and hitting your womanhood repeatedly.

Your skin burns under his touch. You want him. You need him. You crave him.

And he knows it.

His hand stops on your asscheek, underneath the fabric of your nightie as his teeth keep biting your bottom lip voraciously, his fingers squeezing your flesh before grasping the hem of your nightie.

Austin takes it off of you and tosses it to the side.

Now you're fully naked on his lap, your breasts are pressed against his half-covered chest and your stomach shakes at the sensation of being so exposed while he's overdressed.

He leans forward a bit enough to bring his hands behind his back and take off his jacket.

“No!” your voice leaves your throat in a worried shriek, bringing out a primal emotion hidden in the deepest part of you.

Austin halts and looks you in the eyes, urging you to give him reasons. You blush.

You can't run away.

“L-leave it on...” you swallow thickly, hair falling on your face, hiding your awkwardness from him. Right now you're ashamed to death for this implied confession and his silence is not helping to ease your feeling.

He simply keeps staring at you, with those damned eyes that know how to make you melt, and without saying a word he kisses you again.

His tongue hungrily pushes itself into your mouth, giving you goosebumps as his fingers slide down straight between your folds, coating in your juices.

Now he can feel it.

“Fuck, you're dripping” his touch is so slight and lasts only for a moment, making you moan against his lips "all this wet just for sucking daddy's cock and seeing him in this suit, mh?"

“Please, Aus...”

“Who knew a stupid suit would make my little girl so eager?”

You don't answer and your shyness seems to no longer exist.

You just keep grinding against him, more desperate than ever while his tip rubs against your throbbing clit; he grasps his cock with his hand, adjusting himself on the couch and lining up with your slit, teasing it as your heart aches in eagerness and you can do nothing more than keep begging him shamelessly.

Hearing you beg is making him crazy, he swears he could stand still for hours only to hear you beg with your tear-filled eyes, but right now he just wants you too much to do it.

“Please, I need you”

You don't need to say anything else. His tip pushes inside your cunt and right after he grips your waist forcefully. His entire length slides inside you slowly, your mouth curving in a perfect 'o' from which nothing comes out as you pull away from his lips. Your breath hitches as he makes you sink onto him until you feel his pubic bone hitting against your swollen clit.

You're stuck, unable to breathe. You squeeze your eyes shout and cry out.

“Oh!” you feel so full. Full of him.

He gives you a few seconds to get used to his presence inside you and a heavy breath releases from his chest.

“Shit, you're so tight” he curses under his breath, bottom lip between his sparkling teeth and eyes closed for pleasure.

And then he starts guiding you onto him and you let yourself get carried by his hands, feeble like jelly as you meet his thrusts, moving slowly, moaning weakly.

“Aus” you whimper, each one of your moves against him only stretching you open more.

“Shh angel, you can handle it” he coos softly in your ear, leaving sweet kisses behind your lobe, helping you to ease the pain.

Your thighs are trembling as they wrap around his and your fingers slide between his blonde locks, trying to hold him closer than ever.

From this position, you can feel him completely. Every inch, curve, vein, and single part of him is inside you to the brim and is filling you perfectly with a combination of pain and pleasure that only Austin can give you.

You open your eyes and look at him. He's already staring at you and now your gazes lock together, making you both feel more connected with your soul than just your bodies and skin.

Your breaths mingle, your lips only a few inches distant from each other and ready to touch again with each thrust.

“You're taking me so well” he murmurs.

His forehead is sweaty, his lips are plump and red like yours, his jaw clenching as he watches you fall apart on his cock and babble something in response before moaning, struggling to take him.

You feel that familiar coil growing in you, your walls clench around his girth and you feel the base of your stomach burn every time his tip caresses your cervix.

It's too much for you. You stop, ready to surrender to his touch, but Austin holds you in place.

“Ah-ah. Stay still, pretty girl.” his fingers force you to sit straight, impaling you more and more on his cock.

“I-i can't...”

“C'mon little one, don't be a brat” he warns you as he starts guiding your hips again, with slow but intense strokes, the stimulation leading a whine to escape your lips before you stop again.

“Hmmph... t-too much...” you babble, it's the only thing you're barely able to say. You can't even talk.

It's so good, you just wish you had the strength to ride him faster but his cock's hitting you so deep you swear you could die in his arms.

Suddenly something draws his attention and forces him to look down.

You feel his hand press on your belly and you gasp in surprise. So you lower your head as well and see the outline of his cock poking out of your stomach.

The vision makes his cock twitch and your walls squeeze around him. He's in your guts.

“God, you look so hot like this” his gaze is burning on your skin, and you can say he definitely loves the sight in front of him. His pupils are dilated, and his breath is getting heavier. He's addicted “Small, desperate, and full of my cock”

You moan hard, turned on by his words and seeing how much he's going deep inside you with every stroke.

“‘s so deep inside you, uh?” he mocks you, his thumb rubbing your tummy as your eyes meet each other again.

“Y-yes! S-so deep” hearing your voice cracked and desperate leads him to one conclusion.

“Think you need daddy's help” suddenly his grip on your flesh tightens and with no warning he pushes you down onto him brutally, slamming his cock into you, bucking his hips upwards to start thrusting deeper, harder.

In a matter of seconds, your nails dig into the back of his hands and you scream, tilting your head back in pleasure.

“Aus- oh, god!” you moan louder, your mouth wide open as ecstasy takes over you, leading you to shake uncontrollably against his hips, making him grunt and moan.

“Keep moving, angel, don't stop...” he whispers as you try to follow his orders as far as your body permits you.

His cock is buried in you, he is fucking you so good you're barely able to move properly.

“Yes, just like that, baby, you're so good” his words keep hitting at your core, only spurring you to push yourself to your own limits as he starts leaving wet kisses on your throat “My good girl...”

"Please, please, please!" the fire inside you is ready to burst, your peak is getting closer and you want more.

“You wanna cum, angel?”

“Yes, yes please, n-need to cum!” hot tears start streaming down your cheeks and you moan again, again and again, scratching his hands and leaving bruises on his knuckles.

Everything seems to be so intense. Sweat is soaking your bodies, immersing you both in a hot-as-hell shower. The wet sound of bones and skins slapping floods your ears, your juices flowing down your thighs ruining the fine fabric of his expensive trousers.

You're so close and so is he. You feel in heaven.

“Then cum baby, cum around my cock” his voice shakes you inside, his tip hits that sweet spot in you and your vision goes blurry.

“Austin!” you cry out, your throat rips apart for the strength of your climax. Your orgasm washes over you and you convulse, the shocks running through your body are too strong and leave you powerless as you collapse on his chest.

“Fucking god” soon a growl of satisfaction slips from his throat, and his abdomen tightens underneath you. His grip loosens, thick ropes of his white cum spill inside you and paint your walls, making you shiver.

The room is now filled with silence, interrupted every now and then by the racing breaths escaping from both of your lungs.

You're exhausted.

“You did so good, angel, so good” he starts caressing your head gently, his praises warming your heart as you try to recover from the passionate fuck you two just had, but before you can say anything he picks you up and gets off the couch.

You whimper in surprise, finding the strenght to tie your legs and arms around the soft fabric of his suit as Austin's cock is still hard inside you.

“Let's go t' bed, baby” he announces, a wicked grin crossing his face “Wanna see how deep I can fill this pussy if I let you ride me on the mattress”

a/n: okay sooo… what do you think? would you like to read anything else? i got five or six ideas to write in my drafts already 👀

Tag-list: @pennyroyalcreep @bcofl0ve @houndogsblog @gigisworldsstuff @emmaolsen @cryingabtab @slowsweetlove @fuckhoes1123 @cchl @auranightangle @spirited-away-to-mandalore @donnamarie23 @ab4eva @dancer4j @kibumslatina @denised916 @faeolwen @alqvarde @lilmisswoo93 @oldermenluverrr @eliseinmemphis @purejasmine @lillypink @sournatromanoff @lukedorkyhemmings @claudia-barnes @bo-burnhxm @lilac-presley @onlyangelssing @amorx

(the tag list is OPEN, comment down here if you wanna be added!)

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #austin butler ff #austin butler imagine #austin elvis imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler!elvis #austin x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x priscilla actress reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fluff #austin butler one shot #austin butler headcanons #elvis x reader #austin!elvis angst #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis x oc #austin!elvis fluff #elvis imagine #elvis film #elvis presley #elvis movie #elvis!austin #smut #angst

[marinas-drafts]

Honeymoon

A Sky High Lovin’ segment, the swingin’ 60’s

Summary: If weddings are for the bride then it suggests that Honeymoon’s are for the groom -a stupid cliche you had dismissed until your dashing groom proves a little inexorable in his intent to “educate” his new bride on the long Learjet flight to Honolulu

Warnings 18+: (sex, dubious consent) I am about to possibly over exaggerate these cautions but I find it necessary, particularly for anyone who is used to reading my work because this is by far the most dubious consent piece I ever ever written and the theme is entirely narratively sympathetic to entitled husbands and female objectification. So, as it’s me, of course there’s love and tenderness but it’s also got -repeatedly denied requests to stop during sex, innocence kink, possible male enjoyment of a recent virgin’s discomfort, nasty baby talk, worry about a man being unfaithful if you deny him, talks of teaching you how to take him, (possible grooming?!) assumed husbandly entitlement to a wife’s body, archaic views on gender roles… y’all, I ripped off Pricilla and went full Lana Del Rey and glorified breaking a woman into her husbands tastes, like, that’s the theme and it’s reveling in it so, enjoy but heads up 🌷🎀🌷

Repost here from my main: @precious-little-scoundrel

There’s something very salacious in the simple act of walking across the tarmac amidst a swarm of reporters clicking away with their cameras, ready to print the image of your little figure pressed against his side, images for all the world to look at and know what occurred to you last night.

What you two did. How he made you his. On your wedding night.

He made you a woman, his woman and the whole world knows it now. There’s something so damn dirty about this, even -or perhaps because- of how traditional it is. The ring sits with a comforting weight on your finger as he holds your hand, and your belly aches from your husband drawing his pleasure from your virgin body, your thighs trembling as you try your best to keep up with his long strides in your kitten heels. It’s so proper, it’s everything he ever wanted, and it makes your cheeks burn beneath the generous layer of makeup.

He looks painfully handsome and happy this morning, impeccably polished in the bright sunshine and you wonder at his duality. The way he can clean up and regain his proud suavity when last night you had seen him mussed, tremblingly tender and near unhinged in his passion while consummating your union. A dab of pomade, a double breasted jacket and his wife’s little hand in his -he’s utterly in possession of himself now and is the fuckin’ American dream incarnate right in this moment.

He’s very proud as he introduces you to some of the familiar press faces, and very gallant as he guides you up the few steps into the Learjet, broad palm searing your lower back and you wish you two could have remained tangled up in sheets, honeymoon and travel arrangements abandoned indefinitely. Just you and him floating together in a sky of crisp sheets and tangled limbs.

The photographers crowd in after you, soaking up the shy way you cuddle in close as he tucks you into his side, sympathetic to your own desire to be alone but too happy to begrudge anyone a glimpse at his little prize. Uhem, bride. The amount of satisfaction he finds in you is palatable to all here, his arm around you holds you close and grounds you even as his face splitting grin proclaims that you were a tight but obedient fit last night.

Your eyes burn you’re blushing so hard and that makes him grin harder and it’s pavlovian that smile, you can’t help but grin back, harder and crinklier than his and that stokes his joy further and soon y’all are giggling over memories the photographers will never be privy to. Those are yours, frantic and tender and aching.

Even the ever hungry photographers are glutted by the loved up display you give them, and soon they are departing and the plane door is shut. Then it’s goodbye America, off to Honolulu.

The tiny jet crew and the couple of boys from his paired down entourage settle into their seats as the jet roars down the runway and lifts off, effortless, soaring and sleek. Beside him you are restless, shifting and jittery on the leather seat, though he is gratified to see the demure way you cross your ankles and the ladylike poise of your spine even surrounded by the comparative privacy. His perfect southern Belle, whose every thought and action and word is to reflect well upon him and keep his name from disrepute, he couldn’t have chosen better. Your mouthwatering submission last night proved it.

You squirm again. Maintaining the modest coverage of your pretty little shift dress, the one accented with navy bows that coordinate with his suit, requires you to keep your upper thighs pressed together tightly, squeezing the bruise of your freshly opened little flower as it pulses distractingly, as if in flustered shock at its sudden required usage. Throbbing, sticky and hot.

“What’s my lil lady doin all that fidgetin for, hmm?” he asks you, tone solicitous but his eyes glint, “Plush leather seats not soft enough for my baby’s bottom?”

You startle and blush, just as he knew you would, and it’s adorable really, the way you can still be bashful after months of foolin and despite the recent intimacy of the night before. And it’s downright precious that you are so sore and achy after he had been so painstakingly gentle when he took you. You had no clue how sweet he’d been, the amount of self sacrifice he had shown in his languid slide and shallow thrusts, tender kisses and gentle grip. Resolutely holding back the absolute wreckage he could unleash on your poor, widdle unsuspecting cunt.

“Just excited.” your body vibrates as you shake your arms to highlight your explanation, gesturing to the wide blue sky out your window and the decadent interior of the jet.

He grins down at you and kisses your cheek, reaching for the seatbelt fastened at your lower belly and he flicks it open with his thumb, the heat of his hand branding you like an iron for the brief contact. “Lemme show ya round then, baby.”

He folds your hand in his again and weaves you down the aisle between the padded seats and towards the back of the plane, the occasional stray crew member meekly ducking towards the cockpit. You two pass the music lounge with its built-in piano and electric fireplace, then the kitchenette with its circular bar and spherical burst of lights coming out of the wall like cascading planets, back towards the little bedroom. You marvel at the designs, the colors, the unabashed wealth of it all floating thousands of feet above solid earth.

Happy and giddy you tuck into his side and he holds you close, arm snug around your waist, satisfied to show his little wife all he has to offer her.

“Y'know,” he serves as your guide, supplying details and anecdotes, most of which you already know but would listen to, enraptured a thousand times to keep him free and easy with his conversation, “Frank n' i didn't really get along when i first started out. ‘Said my music was brutal n' ugly. But we get along now. met 'im in person right after i met you. Reckon' ya rubbed off on me 'cause now we're good friends n’he lent us this jet to defile as we saw fit." his tongue pokes between his teeth, amused at himself and you find there is something cutely self-deceptive about his rare fits of humble bragging. “He’s got a mirror down here, nice big ole Broadway style vanity with it, bright lights n’low counter.” you’re far back into the plane now, he holds back a dividing curtain and you step into the little hallway dressing room right in front of the inauspicious bedroom door, “Frank uses this setup to primp before goin down the ramp to meet fans or shovin off for the next concert, reckon it’ll serve for the lesson I wanna show ya.”

Curious as to his plan, you look to him, both his image reflected in the huge, bare bulbed mirror and his own dear face beside you, more than a little pleased to see what a striking couple you make in the reflection, with his tailored suit and your chic smock, an IT couple without a doubt. It makes you feel pretty, wanted, a little proud maybe. That you won out of all those other hopeful girls. He sees your pleased expression in the mirror, the way your hip cocks and your expression morphs to your best kittenish smile. You’re preening. You think you’ve made it, think you’re at the summit of what life can offer and he may be partial but he thinks you wear smugness rather cutely. Makes him wanna shake ya up, rumple you a little, remind you who gave you all this. That your new image and importance and identity are due to being Mrs Presley.

He scoots up behind you, wrapping his arms around your belly and pulling you close to him, his chin settles atop your head. “Likin what you see?” he asks slyly, staring at the reflected image that will be on every magazine and newspaper tomorrow, the King of Rock n Roll and his perfect little darling who thinks she’s a woman now that she took cock once.

He runs his hands along your body, broad palms gathering then smoothing out puckers and rolls in the fabric of your dress as he follows the curve of you, breast to thigh and back up, then back down, further this time. He squats a little behind you and his clever fingers hook in your hem line and begin to draw it up, little by little exposing more and more leg in the mirror.

“Oh, no I-“ your hand flys to the apex of your thighs, pressing the fabric against you and keeping a covering there as his gathering has pulled your dress nearly to your little secret place, “what are you doin Elvis?” you ask, a little unsure and bashful of him exposing you in this somewhat public place, even if the crew is nowhere to be seen and the curtain is drawn.

It’s obscene to rumple up the perfect couple, all the starch and pomade that make Elvis Presley and his new bride the envy of the world. And it’s worrying. He does not know you omitted underwear today, the feeling of the fabric chafing and holding in the heat of your tender pussy too much to bear while maintaining a proper face on the tarmac.

“Gonna show ya somethin,” he repeats, eyebrow quirked at your “no” and the nervous way you are almost cupping the last few inches of your dress over your private parts.

He keeps ahold of the fabric he’s gathered up so far and takes to running his knuckles up your side soothingly again, till he notices there’s no band or catch on your hips as he glides up.

“You hidin somethin from me, honey?” he asks, already knowing the answer and the reason for your flaming cheeks, “Keepin secrets from your husband already, denyin him his right?” he tuts and your pretty coal rimmed eyes fly open in denial as you shake your head and pull your hand away. “That's more like it.” He nods approvingly, and ever the showman he waits a minute, building the suspense as his hands continue to map out your clothed body as your breathing quickens. In the mirror both your eyes zero in on the barely hidden triangle between your legs. Then with a flourish and flick of his wrist he swoops the hem up and a rush of cold air hits your exposed pussy. You slump into him and await his verdict. “Darlin, what’s this?“ he asks you gravely, his eyes very dark in the mirror and there you are, pristine up top and entirely bare below, it’s -vulgar. Vulgar and salacious with a fully suited man behind you shaking his head in disappointment that you’d be so careless on your first day as Mrs Presley, risking flashing the photographers or the flight crew because you were too delicate to stand a little fabric. He expects more of you, and he knows you know that.

You mix your explanation with your apology, looking like an eager to please little foal on shaky legs, and he accepts it with another tut and a hum as he rolls your dress up methodically until its bulk is beneath your armpits. The shame you feel in being so exposed is your own fault, your own doing, you know that.

If you’d obeyed you would currently have some demure scrap of silk covering you in the full glare of the showbiz mirror. But now you are bare to his blazing eyes. Your handsome new husband inspects you closely in the mirror, his ringed fingers trailing over your hips and over your belly, swooping up your ribs and tickling the underside of your breasts. Back down he goes, hands gliding and palms warm and broad, spanning much of your abdomen in his reach, down and down till he is petting your mound. Your arms dangle listlessly at your sides, entirely unsure what your part in this is, except to submit to whatever he wishes.

“You say your lil pussy is tenda, hmm?” he understands your motive now, and coos solicitously over your discomfort, even as he smirks at the notion you’re sore from that pathetically gentle love making. It snaps something primal deep inside him, or at least, he thinks that’s what made the decision for him, the decision to enlighten you that last night may have been real nice, but it weren’t typical. He can’t have a wimpy wife, he knows you’re made of tougher stuff, just needs to be coaxed out of you. “A little discomfort ain’t no reason for ya to risk showin the world Mrs. Presley’s goods, is it?” he observes and you nod in abashed agreement.

“No it isn’t,” your tone is fervent and you are so eager to make amends, “I’m sorry Elvis, I wasn’t thinking, I’ll do better.”

“I expect you to.” he says, not unkindly but you gulp and nod anyway, unmoored by his effortless authority. “Now, let’s see about this lil owie, hmm? Spread your legs for me, c’mon wider, that’s a good girl.”

You moan as his hand engulfs you’re throbbing heat, cupping the wounded little place and pressing it firm but gently with his palm. He can feel the thud of your heartbeat down there and the sticky proof of your excitement at just being near him. There’s heat pouring out from you too, a lotta heat. Half of it arousal no doubt, but it’s angry down there like a woman gets during her menses. Puffy and sweltering against his palm.

It’s gonna feel indescribably good around his cock.

“Now we’ve opened ya up,” he explains softly in your ear, “she’s gonna get all fussy down there if she’s left empty for too long.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror with a worried look, unconvinced that emptiness is at all the cause of your discomfort. You feel like something got rearranged down there and needs to be left to mend itself in peace. Preferably in a hot bubble bath. The one luxury this floating palace doesn't have.

“You trust me, don’t ya?” he asks your fretful expression proddingly, “Don’t want ya to close back up all th’way. Go too long and then we’d be starting from scratch each time, you understand baby?”

That does make sense. You swallow your fear and shake your head agreeably. Why shouldn’t you?

He was so tender last night, so romantic and gentle and chivalrous. He had kissed away all your fear and worry into the fluffy bed, sending you careening into bliss and flinging you up to the stars before gently pressing in when you least expected it. It had hurt then, sure, a little pinch and an uncomfortably full feeling he helped soothe by tilting your hips with a courteous pillow beneath them.

Making love had been nice, unexpectedly nice.

And better yet had been the sight of your gorgeous groom, shaking in effort to hold back his vigor as he worked himself in and out above you, gentle and kind, slowly losing a grip on his decorum and letting out sounds of pleasure and praise. There had almost been a whine on his lips as he stalled suddenly and clung to your shoulders and spilled inside you, cementing your union. It had made you feel gloriously happy, and a little smug to see him come undone from the feeling of being inside you.

He earned your trust.

“I understand.” you assure him, the little kisses he is pressing to your neck making you brave. You’d like to see him come undone again. If that means he has to go inside you again then you’ll accept that. Maybe he was right last night, maybe it’ll be even better today.

“That’s my good baby.” he praises you, pleased and handsome over your shoulder, “Gonna turn you into the best little wife the world has ever seen.” he starts to drag his fingers through your bruised petals and you make a ugly little grimace at the soreness before seeing how unpretty it looks in the mirror, consciously changing your expression to demure acceptance. The shiny pink of your lipstick highlights the baby doll serenity of your gentle smile.

“Take me to bed, please, Elvis.” you try to play along with him, desperate to show him your excitement and desire to please.

“Aww now, we’re not goin’ to bed this time, darlin, we’re gonna have a lil lesson so you ain’t in the dark bout marital duties and all that.”

You stiffen in his arms, confused and wary. He keeps nuzzling at your cheek and neck. You had anticipated that there might be adventurous trysts once married, sure. He had proven himself fond of messing with you outside the bedroom during your courtship, fingers playing with you under tables and in hotel elevators. You had prepared for him gently making love to you on a picnic blanket under a Hawaiian moon. Maybe in the tub, or heavens -perhaps the kitchen if he was ravenous. But you’re concerned now that you haven’t grasped his entitlement fully, you’re still trying to understand what he means by “lesson” and why he led you to this vanity. You have a shaky feeling that your embarrassment at being flashed in front of the mirror is about to pale in comparison to what he has planned.

His hand goes from petting your sticky folds to rubbing and swirling, calloused fingertips worrying your bud till you’re nearly keening in enjoyment. He hasn’t looked you in the eyes in a minutes. You keep watching his face as his expression goes from intent to hungry, watching himself fiddling down there with your pink petals as he gets you primed. Primed for the two insistent fingers that plunge into you with no warning. It’s easier this time, having had a coke bottle up there, even just once, did the trick, his fingers meeting far less resistance than last night. He’s made his mark, claimed ya and stretched ya. Never the same again.

His movements burn for you, tugging and persistent as they are and you wince, can’t help it with the way his elegant digits are caressing your sore walls at a foreignly fast pace. You hope that maybe not looking at the rough act will ease your discomfort, like looking away from the needle poke when giving blood helps you keep from getting queasy. The sounds though, wet and squelching, are unmistakable despite the hum of the jet's engines. You watch his face, hoping he’ll look up and meet your eyes, but he’s transfixed by the sight in the mirror of his fingers disappearing into you.

“Gimme your hands, baby.” his sudden instruction startles you as you had flown far away in your mind, trying to reconcile the conflicting amounts of embarrassment and arousal you feel under his heated scrutiny. Who knew married life would cause such a upheaval inside?

“Yes sir.” you present them palms up, and he jerks his chin,

“Now baby, listen, you’re gonna replace my hands while I get myself ready, alright, gonna keep my progress for us. C’mon, hand on each side, pull your lips apart, gonna spread your snatch nice n wide so you can really see the mechanics of the thang. The act.”

The act? What act - you figured if this was going to happen to you at the vanity he would spin you around and set you on the counter, take you kindly as you sat. He had licked you in a movie set bathroom like that one time. Your brain scrambles in confusion and panic, supplying the only familiar acts and positions you’ve tried so far. A man can’t take a woman standing, he can’t, it wouldn’t fit, or at least, it wouldn’t be nice, surely and he wouldn’t be anything but nice-

“Now,” he’s speaking up again, “squeeze your arms a lil, gotta keep your dress nice and clear of the exhibit, ok?” he snickers at the way your dress is bunched beneath your underarms.

You make a respectful noise of acknowledgment, too nervous to say more. Your folds are puffy and slippery beneath your numb fingers as you pull your labia apart like he instructed. This feels new, keeping clothes on while being intimate. It feels…irreverent and dirty somehow. Just like standing here, your whole reflection lit brilliantly and his eyes still glued to that place between your legs.

You watch him pull away from behind you and start to methodically undo the buttons of his double breasted suit jacket, sliding it off his lean arms and folding it carefully over a towel rack, “Ya see, darlin,” he explains, as he undoes his cuff buttons and starts to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, “it's only proper you know what it looks like when we're joined together. I’ve got no desire to keep ya in the dark bout somethin God says is a good thing. This isn't the olden days, I don't mind having an enlightened sorta gal. So long as you don’t turn into the bra-burning sort of enlightened.”

He meets your eyes then as he gives you a look from under his lashes, admonishing you to stay away from such nonsensical, feministic, man-hating company as his deft fingers pop open the button of his slacks and he pulls himself out, weeping, thick and ready. You had no idea he was already so fully excited, your legs begin to tremble anew. He looks larger like this, somehow, all poshly dressed and admirably sauve in the mirror as his cock juts out of his tailored slacks, a single indecorous vulgarity marring his pristine Ken Doll image.

You flush red hot at the sight of him

lazily pumping himself as he saunters back to you, his hand yanking and pulling to chub himself up and then a thumb swirling around the uncut tip. He’s leaking and messy already, a profusion of precum wetting his hand and you give a silent prayer of thanks that at least he will add to the slick, hopefully ease the slide.

He doesn’t waste time with romance, he takes his place again behind you and this time you feel him sliding between your cheeks and then your legs, the feel of his open fly and belt against your bare butt. Due to your obediently spread lips, it’s perfectly visible when he slides through your folds and pokes out the other side, a pink, blunt, oozing cockhead playing peek-a-boo in your garden. He bumps your clit again and again with it until you are huffily shivering in his arms.

“Elvis are you really gonna-“ you can’t bear the suspense of it, you have to ask him his intentions, if he really means to make love to you standing up.

“-really gonna fuck my new wife in front of this state of the art mirror?” he laughs, thinking he knows what your quibble is, “Goddamn right I am, be a crime to not avail ourselves of the experience.”

He punctuates his enunciated vocabulary with rough thrusts against your bud that have you shaking and coming…just a little. Just enough for him to be sure you’re ready to take him.

“Fuck me?” you repeat in a panicked whisper, “B-b-but I’m your wife, Elvis!” you object, wounded.

He gets confused, stalling with his hand as he lines himself up with your freshly excavated entrance, “Whadda ya mean, honey?” he asks kindly, reaching around to tilt your chin towards him, but you sense that there’s an impatient edge to it.

You tearfully explain to him how your mother and other women have told you very explicitly you that men don’t fuck their wives. They make love to them. You are very adamant regarding it, and he ought to know better.

“Why baby, that’s the single greatest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” he declares in fond amusement, smooching your tear stained cheek and resuming his rutting through your folds, “You gonna trust some ole ninnies over your husband? Baby, I gave ya a real nice wedding night cause I love ya and you’re my special girl and I thought it your due, but I ain’t gonna be saddled with a wife who can’t meet my needs when I need a quick fuck, ya hear me? Case in point is now, my dick’s about to fall off from all this chit chat.”

You suppose there’s a great deal about marriage that is far more complicated than movies and books and Sunday potlucks led you to believe. It’s hard balancing how to please your husband as you ought with retaining some dignity that will make him respect you. You can’t imagine Elvis ever not respecting you, it’s too ingrained in him and what he wants isn’t to humiliate you, it’s what he needs to be satisfied. And you so badly want to keep him satisfied, you know deep down you’d do unspeakable things to keep his attention on you, perhaps that is where your shame comes from. It’s less about his expectations and more about the fact you’d throw away all your mother’s teachings before causing him to go elsewhere for comfort and acceptance.

You turn your head to him and pucker your lips for a kiss of acquiesce, which he obliges. His hand is still firm on your jaw as he deepens it, and it’s heady and passionate and loving and -he’s breaching you suddenly. A squat and flex and tilt of his hips and then he’s snagged your hole and he is pressing up and up and up and you whine into his mouth as his foreskin rolls back in your canal, an extra friction against your raw walls.

“Elvis!” you beg, breath caught in your throat at the burning sting of him as your hand flies up to clutch at his arm, secure around your hips, “its it’s-” you flounder with a word to adequately describe the delicious pain of it as he goes deeper.

He mouths messy and moaning at your neck and you can feel his belly shaking against your lower back, his cock twitching at the feeling of getting dipped in your silky channel. It makes you cringe in discomfort.

“You’re so goddamn perfect and warm as anythin,” he praises in a slur of kisses and moans as he flexes up and up.

The farther in he goes the more it loses any snuggly quality and instead feels rather like getting slowly impaled. You shift your stance in front of the mirror, legs spreading of their own accord and eyes squeezed shut in concentration at just trying to breathe. It goes on forever and you start to try to go up on your tip toes, to get away from it, from him, to lessen the fullness and the deepness of his assault somehow. He persists. You try to scramble up him, leveraging your weight on his forearm till your little feet are nearly off the jet floor.

His answering chuckle vibrates your back, “Looks like you’re tryin to learn how to levitate, honey.”

You scramble harder in a vain attempt to get taller, to elongate your poor vagina somehow, to keep him shallow

“T-that’s all I can take, Elvis” you try to tell him when he’s only over half in.

It's an honest declaration, to your hyperventilating self he feels impossibly big and certainly every bit as deep as it felt last night when he took you discreetly beneath the sheets in the good ole fashioned missionary position.

Your eyes widen as he doesn’t stop, just goes on and on and on, as your breaths get more panicked, shallower with each inhale, on the verge of a panic attack until he stalls and starts to pet your belly and kiss your cheek in an effort to bring you back down. “Breathe babydoll, breathe for me. Calm down, satnin, you took this all last night. you can do it again, I knows ya can.”

You've long ago started to whimper when he didn’t listen, half in pain and half in fear that he isn’t stopping, that he isn’t being as nice as he was last night. Why isn’t he stopping? oh why, why, “I can’t, I think I’m not made for it.” you wail as you writhe helpless in his arms, a pounding ache between your legs and a strange flutter in your chest.

“No, no, don’t say that baby, please don’t say that, you’re perfect baby, just perfect.” he pleads a little frantic, rubbing his lips along your cheekbone to collect your tears, “Only need a lil breakin in is all, this won’t always be so rough. I’ll fix ya honey, I’ll make it better. Don’t you go objectin’ to the heavenly proportions God gave ya, or what he gave me neither. We were made for each other.”

Hearing the tender worry in his voice soothes you, even more than his comforting touches, knowing he isn’t indifferent to your struggle, he just wants what’s best for you as any good teacher would. You take a breath, a large breath and it feels like it made him sink deeper somehow. You bite back a sob.

“You can do it.” he says in your ear, his voice shaky from how badly he needs to be moving inside you, “Please baby, let me in, I’m hurtin’ real bad, if you could just see lil elvis you’d feel so bad for the poor guy. Let him in, you can take it, let him in, let him in his lil house. That’s it, that’s it just a little bit more.”

The man lied. There was nothing “little” about the more he gives you when he bucks up that last bit and buries himself fully inside, balls snug against your butt.

“Oh, i’hurts.” you moan, tears leaking through your clenched eyes, smearing your immaculate cat eye. “hurts -I-I can’t, Elvis.”

“You can.” he declares firmly, trying so hard to stay in control, to gather the last shreds of his gentlemanliness, “More like -you *are* doing it. Look, come on. Baby! I said look! Open those eyes and watch how well you’ve taken me.”

You pry your clumping lashes apart and slowly your eyes drag from the reflection of your faces pressed together, down to your breasts where his hand is crushing a velvet bow in his grip, down your belly to to his forearm barred around your hips. Down to that place where you join.

“Where’d lil Elvis go, hmm?” He teases like you’re playing hide and seek, and you let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes at his babying tone, “Where'd he go, darlin? Oh, there he is,” he pulls out a tiny bit so the pink veiny length of him peaks out from between your lips, “there he is -wait where’d he go?”

“Elvis. Stop. Stop, that’s so dumb.” you beg through your sniffling giggles, the fiery stretch of him temporarily forgotten.

He laughs at your embarrassment and pulls out further this time, then snaps his hips back up to the hilt of him, drawing a pained cry from you “Who’s my bestest girl, hmm? who’s that? Shhh, shhh, Das you ain’t it? Look at’chue, doin so well. I need ya to stand straight baby, let those heels touch down. I mean it, plant your feet, don’t cry about it, no reason to cry, you gotta relax.”

You’ve heard him use the same tone of voice when helping Red’s puppy get a burr out of its paw. Pitifully you obey him, planting your feet and it feels like you’re riding a telephone pole, the way he’s stiff and unyielding, deep inside you, plumbing the depths of your belly.

“That’s more like it.” he hums in throaty appreciation of the snug fit of you, “Alright now, ‘member the job I gave ya?” he reminds gently as he starts to thrust slow and deep, watching as your face crumples in grief, “Hold yourself open baby, it’s very important you watch this, I need ya to understand you’re perfect for this, gotta let go of ma arm, c’mon now.” he pries your grip from his forearm and brings your hand back down to your puffy heat, “Spread yo’self.” his accent deepens as your body struggles to take him, clenching around him in an effort to expel him, and only serving to make him moan in bliss. “Look a’that.” he marvels, sounding utterly worshipful of the way the glistening pink length of him slowly comes into view, then slowly disappears -absorbed inside you, your painfully stretched little hole fluttering hopelessly at each dragging inch of him.

“It still really hurts.” you observe childishly through gritted teeth, your pained body fighting the fuzzy headed arousal you feel while watching the obscene display of him sliding in and out of you for a few languid grinds.

“That’s cause you’re so tense, loosen up baby, -actually, here.” he shuffles you forward and you make a reckless sound of disgruntlement at the feel of him shifting inside you with each baby step, “Here, knee up here.” he hooks his hand beneath your knee and props it up on the counter, somehow making this worse and better all at once with the new angle.

“Ow, oh god, you said it would get better.” you accuse, biting your lip in savage self reprimand after it. Foolish girl, to risk making him unhappy and frustrated, stoking his wandering eye.

“It will, dammit, it will. I'm gonna need you to hang in there and play with your lil button till it does, alright? Bout to burst back here with all this startin and stoppin.”

“Ok.” you whisper, feeling a little more steady with the firm counter beneath your knee, opened up a little for the intrusion of him.

He pats your hips and presses an appreciative kiss behind your ear, nearly drunk off your sweet little struggle to be good for him. It makes his heart soar and fills him with wild wants, makes him reckless, and a little mean somehow, like crushing rose petals to gain the scent.

“Now, I know I made love to ya last night, darlin,” he pets the bulge of his cock in your belly and you shudder in anticipation, “cause that’s what weddin nights are for, but now you’re a wife proper you gotta learn how to take cock without so much whinin and clingin, alright? Made ya a woman, didn’t I? so do me proud, act it.”

With this emboldening commission he presses one more kiss to your neck before pulling out before driving in, hard. And then he does it again, and again and again at a pace you’ve seen him maintain on stage but never, never imagined him using with you, against you, it feels like.

You shriek and your knee slides further apart with the violent rocking, trying with terrible desperation to find solace and feminine satisfaction in the guttural groans and huffed out praises your husband vents as he takes what he needs, flaming eyes glued to the mirror and the place where he plunders you.

You are really trying, it just hurts so damn much.

You know you’re lucky, you cling to that even as he spears your cervix again and again with gusto that suggests your panicked clenching is the best damn thing he’s ever felt in his life. You’ve heard from other women, older women trying to counsel you, prepare you for what lay ahead, that some husbands didn’t even bother trying to make sure their wives were slick enough. That the dry drag and burn of a man can make the stretch truly unbearable. It keeps you grateful that the lewd sounds now causing you to blush are testament to the flood of slick down there. It keeps you grateful meek even as you wail and smear your makeup with your gasped out shock.

He should slow down, he should moderate his thrusts, cherish his wife. He can see you’re struggling and panting and crying and somehow it’s all just a drug to him, the gorgeous little dolly he crafted so perfectly this morning looking utterly overwhelmed and defiled by his cock. It’s enough to make a man lose his bearings and forget his mama’s teachings on how to treat a lady.

The beast won’t be tamed. And so Elvis Presley begins to babble a stream of apologies as he exerts all the energy of his able body in fucking his young wife, like the deeper and harder he goes the more likely his lil swimmers will have the chance of making themselves a nice comfy home in your sweet womb:

“oh goddamn baby I’d stop if I could, but yer squeezing me like a vice and I just…I just can’t stop baby, be good, be good, don’t cry on me, be good for your husband, baby. You’ll get used to it, we’ll train your pussy baby, just gotta get through these early stages. Early stages and it’s, it’s normal, just a lil skittish is all, ain’t no way god made me want you this bad just for you to be cold. Ain’t no way, I can feel it when you’re dancin to my music, you want it deep, you crave it deep, you were born hungry. Oh goddamn, yes, yes, fuck yes, baby, I’m sorry I’m sorry, yes, keep squeezing me like that …….”

It is not talent on your part, this clenching that has him snarling in rapture with his eyes rolling back in his skull, it’s pure creature instinct, whether trying to expel him, bring him deeper or milk him fast so this agony will end, you don’t know. All you know is that his force is terrifying and you’ve never seen something quite as erotic as the pristinely polished beauty of his face morphing into ravenous determination.

Your panic flares one last time, unwilling to allow yourself to coast into enjoyment of this filthy usage without a fight. “Please, Elvis please -enough!” you gasp, even as something seems to have shifted inside you, a tilt or a nudge, whatever it is, it’s a spark of something dangerous.

“Listen here now,” he pants in frustration, one of his hands leaving your hip to fly down to your clit and rub it viciously, “i don’t have a particular hankerin to pin you down over the tabletop, face down ass up, and make this marriage work but I will if I have to. So be a good girl n’ quit all your whinin, show me some of that grit you show when I’m teachin ya on the mats. Don’t wanna make me do nothin rash, but I ain’t gon’ have my honeymoon ruined cause my wife is insistent on bein’ an obstinate lil’ brat!” his voice his shaking with effort, “now, open ya self up!”

It spooks you, this inexorable side of him, white hot lightening ripping through your nerves. Suddenly you’re alite. Scientists might be quick to give credit to the clever little rhythm his thumb strummed over your clit but till the day you die you will swear it was instinctive obedience that had you spasming and then gushing, suddenly relaxing and drawing him in, pliant and eager. Subdued at last.

“Aww baby, oh baby that’s it, oh thank fuck,” he gasps in relief as he feels the change, “I’ve gotchu, you know I gotchu always, gonna help ya get over that damn hill, gonna drop ya off that cliff gentle like.”

His movements are not gentle, if anything they speed up, but his hands cradle you, his mouth caresses you and he places his own knee beside your own, glued together everywhere except for the snap of his pelvis. There is a razor's edge here, in the sensations his body is drawing from yours, and it is an edge upon which you wobble, tipping now towards pleasure, then pain, then back again to pleasure. It confuses and overwhelms you, makes you moan and keen and beg like an animal in heat, the jet crew and all your ladylike deportment forgotten.

“Oh dear god Elvis, I- oh, oh, please don’t stop!” you’re suddenly shouting in a shocked beg, something irreversible building and this isn’t your standard *nice job buddy that was swell* orgasm approaching, it’s one of the *well done sir, I think I just died there for a minute* variety. It’s shaking, and thrumming and burning up your entire body, suddenly making lyrics to his well worn songs take on an entirely new meaning.

“Lordy mama, tryin to let the whole plane know I’ve broken ya in at last?” he teases, finding it heavenly the way you move with him now in an easy give and take, the smacking of your bum against him and the happy slack of your mouth driving him to madness.

Gone is the suave man of myth and envy, here is an animal instead, mounting and mauling and claiming you with ferocious devotion and you take it like a jerking rag doll, whining in need where you were once whimpering. He’s proud of you. If he had breath to laugh he would at the way you suddenly look dazedly disbelieving in the mirror right before your body seizes up and pleasure annihilates all your senses.

Your legs give out and you slump, having only the vaguest awareness of the fact he’s beginning to grunt and cry out himself, using you like a writhing receptacle, coming unglued behind you as you begin to melt on him like butter. There ain’t much thought or chivalry to the way he grabs at you, a hand beneath each knee and folds you in half, split open in front of the mirror as he ruts every last drop of satisfaction into you. He hears himself hollering as if through a tunnel, something that the fight crew, if asked, would paraphrase as being “oh goddamn, you are more perfect than anything.”

You are numb and pounding down there, the last frantic usage of your pussy an ordeal you endure with cock dumb acceptance. The way his face draws up and crumples shortly after, and then slacks in bliss -it is the single most violently arousing thing you’ve ever witnessed. Feeble as your energy is, you feel a surge of feminine pride at the way he mumbles and moans and finally shakes to a stop.

“That’s it, oh you’re so beautiful.” you moan, watching as his hair falls into his bleary, slow blinking eyes as he comes back to the surface, “And you’re mine.” you sigh, content.

“Mhmm, yours.” he coos, jostling you a little on his cock and he snuggles closer somehow, you think you feel his seed start to dribble out despite the sizable stopper inside you, “Well, bless your heart darling, I’ve got ya folded like a camp chair. Ha!” he gently folds your legs back down, pulling out of you with painstaking gentleness on the way down, “That weren’t very gentlemanly of me, was it?” he teases.

You sway dangerously once placed on your own two feet and you don’t even have the chance to fall, he never lets go before he realizes what’s needed. He picks you up and sets you on the counter, you pool back against the mirror, boneless and debauched, legs stuck bow legged from such a long ride and a vividly puffy pussy leaking his seed onto the counter. He tucks himself back in with still shaking hands. He won’t be fully back down to earth till Honolulu’s runway, he thinks. Just in time to carry you off the plane. And begin it all over again.

Married life, he could get used to this.

“It was perfect, you’re perfect.” you slur earnestly as he returns to you and unzips your dress, hauling it over your teased you hair, baring you fully as you sit on the counter, kicking feet thumping against the cabinets in your patten leather heels

“Nah…perfect -that would be you, Mrs Presley.” he kisses you deeply, before taking you in his arms bridal style and carries you into the bedroom, conscious but uncaring that you’re leaking all over his pristine shirt sleeve.

This next part oughta involve washcloths or wet wipes. But that would require leaving your sweet arms and facing a jet crew that just heard him railing his tender young bride.

Yeah, he’ll just use his mouth.

Hope y’all enjoyed. This is a repost from my (currently censored) main blog @precious-little-scoundrel and in turn it’s a repost from the original written over a year ago on my deleted OG Elvis blog@aconflagrationofmyown I want to start collecting my fics here in case anything happens with my main. Xoxo

#repost from main #honeymoon #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis #lana del rey #pricilla presley #priscilla presley #priscilla movie #priscilla 2023 #elvis and priscilla #elvis and me #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis music #mine

[marvelobsessed134]

Love me tender part three: moving in

Series masterlist

Pairings: 60s!rockstar!bucky x innocent!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, guided masturbation, innocent!reader, Bucky refuses to look at readers pussy until their wedding night, Bucky refers to reader as a little girl once, expectations from the time period, age gap (Bucky is 24 and reader is 18), Bucky denies reader of sex till marriage

With a lot of convincing from Bucky, your father allowed you to move into his house in the countryside of California. It is absolutely beautiful and huge. You’re so overwhelmed by all of the rooms and things inside of it. Even though your father’s house is a very decent size, you’ve never seen one like this before.

You packed all of your things you needed before heading out front. Bucky waited leaning against his black Cadillac in a perfect buttoned up shirt tucked into pants. He had a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he watched you make your way towards him.

The singer threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it before quickly helping you get your suitcases in the trunk. Once that was done, he stepped close to you and looks down at you before pressing a kiss to your lips.

He loved the way you looked in your pastel pink dress and soft white cardigan with your big hair.

“So beautiful.” He murmured before kissing you again making you giggle, “Bucky let’s hurry up before my father changes his mind.”

“Your wish is my command darlin’.”

He opened the passenger door to you and let you inside before shutting it and running to the drivers side.

When you got to his house you were in utter awe. As you drove through the iron gates and saw the fountain in the middle of the curved driveway and the beautiful huge grassy lawn you felt like you were in a whole other dimension.

As soon as Bucky pulled up to the from numerous assistants emerged from the front doors and got your suitcases out for you. Bucky helped you out of the car and gently held your hand as he led you through the grand front doors.

“Why don’t I show you the living room first sweetheart?” He asked and you nodded with a smile. You followed him into the beautiful living room with a gorgeous fire place and comfy couches. A tv set sat on an angle towards the couches. There were potted palm plants in the corners of the room.

“It’s so beautiful in here.” You gushed.

“Well you oughta get used to it honey it’s yours now too.” His words made your heart flip flop. He lead you throughout other parts of the house-more like mansion-before he had one id his assistants tell him he had someone waiting on the phone for him.

“I have to take care of some business but you keep explorin’.” The rockstar gave you a quick kiss before leaving you in the hallway upstairs. You slowly continued to walk till you reached two double doors at the end which was clearly Bucky’s bedroom. You knew you shouldn’t intrude on his private space and how wrong it was for unmarried people to share a bedroom but you just wanted to know what it looked like so bad.

So without any maid or assistant seeing you, you quickly slipped into the room. You closed the door and leaned against it after taking a deep breath. You looked around the room and slowly stepped further. A huge king sized bed was up against the wall in the middle of the room with two nightstands on either side. A another television set was across from the bed. Two doors were inside the room assumably to the bathroom and a walk in closet. The view from the large windows overlooked the backyard with its green lawn and large pool and beautiful landscaping.

Bucky has very good taste, you thought to yourself. There was also a loveseat at the foot of the bed. You walked towards the bed and slowly and carefully sat down on the plush mattress. It was softer than anything you’ve felt before.

Suddenly you felt this wave of tiredness wash over you. You couldn’t sleep last night since you were both so nervous and excited about the big move. And you woke up extra early today. So you found yourself kicking off your heels and lying back on the bed to drift off to sleep.

~Time Skip~

“Y/n, wake up baby.” A familiar baritone voice spoke softly as you slowly opened your eyes. You looked up to see your fiancé-he immediately proposed after the third date which isn’t as insane for this time period-sitting next to your small frame staring down at your fondly. You slowly sat up and yawned, “I’m sorry Bucky. I know I shouldn’t even be in here in the first place but I was just so curious and then I got tired and fell asleep.” You tried to explain yourself the best you could in hopes not to get into too much trouble.

“That’s alright, darlin’. You’ve had a big day today little girls like you can get easily tired.”

“M’not a little girl Bucky.” You laughed softly. The singer leaned down and kissed you.

“You’re precious just like one.” You blushed at that.

Later on as the days went by you got quite used to living with Bucky. The two of you spent time together all the time but when he wasn’t around you occupied yourself by going out to the pool, reading in the home library, watching movies and going shopping.

There were times where you’d get that sensation between your legs and god, you’d do anything for Bucky to take care of it. Too nervous and scared to touch yourself, you needed him badly.

One night you began to kiss him with more passion and started to grind against him. You felt his growing bulge under his satin pajamas but before you two could go any further he put a stop to it, “This is something that’s very special to me and I want to experience it after we’re married.” You pouted at his words, “but this feeling I have-“

“Let me teach you how to touch yourself okay honey? And you won’t have to do it much longer we’re gettin’ married real soon.” He soothed you and you nodded.

So, Bucky sat behind you in front of the floor length mirror and asked you to spread your legs. You were in a short babydoll nightgown. “Now take your panties off. Don’t worry I won’t look.” You took off your panties and he had his eyes closed. “I don’t want to see that pretty pussy of yours till our weddin’ night but I’m gonna do the best I can to show you how to play with it okay?” He opened his eyes but only paid attention to your face in the mirror and not your naked lower body.

“Okay Bucky.” Your soft, sweet voice responded.

“Run a finger up between those folds.” You did as he said, and hissed at the friction. “Good girl now continue to rub those wet lips and try and stick a finger inside.”

You rubbed your wet folds, getting your fingers wet as well before slowly entering yourself using one slender finger. You moaned softly at the feeling. “God if only I could see that pussy right now. Okay now, you know that little button at the top, go ahead and rub that with your thumb, princess.”

You rubbed your clit with your thumb and squealed at the feeling of slight overstimulation before going back in and rubbing your thumb. “Thrust that finger in and out, maybe add a second one too.” Your fiancé suggested and you obeyed him, adding a second finger and fucking yourself while rubbing your clit.

Bucky admired your beautiful face as you relished in the newly found pleasure. “Mmm Bucky I feel so…good. I feel like I’m going to pee!” You cried.

“Don’t stop baby, you’re about to cum and it’s gonna feel so good I promise baby keep goin’.”

You did as he said and finally you experienced your first ever orgasm, you saw stars as you came all over your fingers. You caught your breath and leaned helplessly against Bucky’s chest.

“You did so good Y/n. Such a good girl.” He smiled at you through the mirror and kissed you on the cheek making you blush and giggle.

#marvel rockstar au #marvel x reader #marvel smut #marvel fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #rockstar!bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #60s au #elvis presley #elvis and priscilla

[dylobilysmomg]

Jacob Elordi Fic Recs

𝗻𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲! 𝗶 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆’𝗿𝗲 *𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗳𝘀 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀* 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 <𝟯

𝗵𝗲𝘆! 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗼𝗯, 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝘅𝘁𝗮𝗽𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘀!

𝗺𝗶𝘅 𝟭 𝗺𝗶𝘅 𝟮

“…no one needs to know.” (felix catton) - @anni1309-blog

stepbrother smut with felix (felix catton) (req) - @anni1309-blog

misery business (felix catton) - @blondedmuse

cruel summer (felix catton) - @perlelune

felix aftercare (felix catton) (req) - @tojigasm

thinking about jacob fucking you stupid (jacob elordi) - @tojigasm

something they all want, that only you can have. (felix catton) - @yoyokalicent

#jacob elordi #nate jacobs imagine #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi smut #nate jacobs smut #jacob elordi masterlist #saltburn #felix catton #felix catton smut #felix catton imagine #priscilla #elvis presley

[jaqueline19997]

Lord I wasn't gonna do this but now I HAVE TOO 😭😭😭

This is to the Priscilla fans that love to CLAIM that Elvis was a "bad husband" She herself admitted to parts of the "movie" are fake yet she still let the "movie" be released!!!! And in every interview I've seen of her she's changed the story or says that parts of the movie didn't actually happen in real life not only the movie but with her book (Elvis and me) just like I this interview!¿!¿!¿!¿! Like girl 👀👀 make it make sense!!!!! And it's been since Elvis passed this girl keeps changing "her" story over and over again and she's not even trying to do it on the down low she's changed it DRAMATICALLY to the point where it's getting annoying 🙄!!!! ANDDDDDD it's not the only part of "her" movie or her book it's with many more INCLUDING the INFAMOUS pillow scene!!!!! So for those who believed everything sorry to say it was ALL LIES 🤷🏻‍♀️🚫🤮

#elvis presley #elvis history #elvis music #sixties #elvis presley x reader #elvis angst #elvis presley fic #big daddy elvis #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis aaron presley #priscilla movie #priscilla beaulieu #priscilla 2023 #elvis and priscilla #lisa marie presley

[livelovedilfs]

#elvis the king #elvis smut #elvis the pelvis #justiceforelvis #elvis presley #elvis and priscilla #elvis music

[surferblues]

stay in bed | e.p

warnings SHORT, 18+ only minors dni, slight praise kink, dumbificaton, oral,ex!, softdom!elvis, and ofc sexual themes.

pairing boyfriend!elvis presley x fem!reader

He was insufferable. He knew what he was doing, but you were not going to stay in bed - you were not going to give him what he wanted.

With his heavy arm pulling you against his heavy chest, making sure you wouldn't be able to move - it was going to be beyond hard getting out of his grasp without waking him up.

Your's and Elvis's career's weren't much different, with you both being in Hollywood's eye and tabloids for your looks every week - you could say you and him were Hollywood's hottest couple of the sixties.

He had the voice and the pretty looks, and you had the acting and the pretty looks - not much of a big difference. You knew about the bets and flashy headlines put on your relationship and how long it would last.

articles claiming no longer than a month! but you and elvis had surpassed your month anniversary long ago. you two had met filming, him being the lead man and you the starring lady - cliche? very much.

he and you kept your relationship quiet and on the low for a few months, but god, he was head over heels! you were bound to get caught in public smooching, because quite frankly, he couldn't keep his hands to himself!

prime example, being now - the current situation you were in.

you were going to be late fo rehearsal if he didn't release you, if given any other chance, you would love to be in the arms of the man you loved most - anytime but now!

you slowly tried to lift his arms up, being quiet and careful. "Baby stay still," He murmured in a daze, pulling you even closer. Elvis's grazed his arms from where they wrapped around your torso, placing both of his hands on either side of your waist.

"elvis, I've gotta' get up." you pushed his chest away, but with him being much stronger than you - you didn't get far. "no, stay in bed with me." he slightly opened his eyes to get sight of you - pouting his lips .

"you're so pretty in the morning,honey, y'know that?" he cooed groggily, placing kisses on your collarbone as he parted your thighs with his knee.

"elvis, you know im busy today." you groaned, but your words were quickly cut short when you felt his hands grazing towards your lace panties - that and alongside your thin bra were the only things covering your body.

"oh, honey, i can be quick and easy with you." he rasped, cooing at you as if you were sensitive as fine china. he slowly began tampering with your panties, slipping down to your knees - he's done this too many times, he's perfected it by now.

"besides, y'always tell me how good i am with my hands. why let them go to waste?" he chuckled lowly, his cold fingers slithering dangerously close towards your folds.

"don't twist my words." you whimpered, you were in too deep now to refuse him. Elvis slipped two fingers into you without warning, making your jaw drop as you let out a breathy moan.

but before the shout of pleasure could slip from your lips, elvis slickly placed his lips on yours - swallowing the moan.

while his other fingers were pumping in and out of your whole, his hand slithered on your neck as the heated kiss intensified - his thumb pressing down lightly on your neck.

Elvis pulled his fingers out of you and began kissing down your neck to your collarbone, "ill be right back, honey." he winked, leaving you confused and needy. he moved from the side you, and used your parted legs as an advantage.

Elvis positioned himself between your legs, placing bold kisses own your stomach, repositioning himself so he was completely under the blankets now. You felt him peeling your panties down your thighs slowly before his mouth immediately came in contact with your heat.

#austin butler smut #austin!elvis smut #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin!elvis #austinbutleredit #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis smut #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfic #austin butler gif #austin butler #austin butler angst #austin butler fluff #elvis and priscilla #elvis fans #elvis presley #austin elvis imagine #austin elvis #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvisaaronpresley #elvis imagine #austin butler x reader

[dreamersparacosm]

austin butler - into you

warnings ; smut. what did u think this was gonna be????

prompt ; in which you and austin butler are co-stars in the new elvis biopic, and it leads to some sexual tension on and off set. 

a/n ; first writing in over 3 years but this movie was enough to make me return to the writing scene, so, here goes nothing. requests are open!

part two

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

One of the weirdest things about becoming an actress was working with people you saw on screens, at galas, red carpet events, etc. You would pass them on the carpet, take one glance at them, and not think much of it. For example, you currently were working on the film Elvis, a documentary about the King of Rock and Roll. Lucky you, your co-star was none other than Austin Butler. You had seen him at multiple red carpet events, and you always thought he seemed a bit pretentious. However, you two have been working together for two months so far, and apparently there could be more than what meets the eye. 

It was a big transition for you, moving to Australia to work on a film you were really passionate about. You were secluded from the rest of your family and the world, only keeping up through pictures and cryptic messages from your friends. Not only was it a big transition, but you were also recently single. You broke up with your boyfriend to move to Australia - well, not precisely. He broke up with you. Details not necessary. Regardless, you took the role as Priscilla Presley to advance your career and play an influential role that meant a lot to others. And, there you were. Filming a movie like this was not only for yourself, but to prove everyone who doubted you wrong. 

Another day of filming had wrapped up, and today, your scenes had required you to make out with Austin Butler more times than you could count. You were currently scouting the food tables by set, hoping to devour a donut secretly while no one was looking. Suddenly, you felt a body slide in next to you, reaching out to grab a sandwich nearby. You looked up, smiling when you noticed it was Austin. The two of you weren’t necessarily close, but you had bonded over breaking up with your significant others recently. Everyone, and you mean everyone, knew about him and Vanessa Hudgens. Tragic, really. You could relate. You also bonded because you had practiced making out about 10,000 times for a chemistry read. So, maybe you were close. “I have to say, this sandwich is worse than yesterday’s,” He broke the silence, chewing with a hint of disgust on his face. 

You laughed, replying “Oh I know, that’s why I’m scouting these donuts over here. Can’t go wrong,” you finally located them, picking one up and taking a bite of it. He watched as the powder exploded over your face; mouth and nose. 

“Geez, you’re quite the delicate eater,” He joked. “Must be why the boyfriend left, eh?”

“Shut up,” you scoffed, slapping his arm. “I’ll have you know, I can eat politely. Just not when it involves powder or sauces… or seasonings..”

He rolled his eyes again, chuckling softly to himself before walking over to speak to one of the cameramen. You couldn’t lie to yourself and say that you weren’t attracted to him. However, what actress wasn’t attracted to their coworker at least once? You had worked with Dylan O’Brien previously on a film, and your attraction had actually manifested into a drunken hookup. Again, far too common. But Austin was a little different, if you were being honest with yourself. He was kind, funny, and was always down to go over lines with you. And… also incredibly attractive. 

There were times where you would catch him looking at you from across the room, or make eye contact awkwardly while you both talked to other people. You’re sure he had his fair share of off-screen hookups, but no need to ruin a friendship, right? 

                                                             +

It was the next day, and you had yet again managed to kiss Austin over 20,000 times. This last kiss was quite the passionate one, leaving your mind reeling with thoughts that might had not been legal in some countries. The way he cupped your face, gazed deep into your eyes, it was cruel. To think, it was just two characters playing a role. 

“Cut!” Baz Luhrmann, your director, yelled out. “Another amazing, AMAZING, scene, Austin and [Y/N]! I cannot deny the chemistry between you two.” 

“Hey, it’s all her,” Austin pointed towards you. “I’m just a prop of her affection.” 

You pushed his shoulder, and you almost flinched at the electricity between your touch. You were constantly playing with him, pushing him around like an elementary school student with a crush. “He just gazes into my eyes ever-so-lovingly, and I am overcome with love,” you pretended to swoon, making the crew laugh. 

“Keep up this act and the two of you will have yourselves nominated for Oscar’s,” Baz encouraged before walking off to discuss with the cameramen. 

“Oh god, I haven’t even thought about getting nominated for anything,” you spoke under your breath, but Austin heard you. You had been nominated twice for an Oscar before, but never won anything. 

“Me either. I don’t even think I’m doing that good to even get nominated,” he agreed. There it was again. The boy that you thought was pretentious was actually humble, and he didn’t realize that his acting was actually monumental for the role. 

“Are you kidding?” You turned to face him, a look of disbelief plastered on your face. “You literally carry every scene we do together. You’re practically Elvis.” 

He blushed a little at your comment, smiling and looking down at his feet, “Damn, that means a lot coming from someone who was nominated for an Oscar two times.” 

“You knew that?” You scrunched up your brows, shocked that he even knew who you were before this film. When he introduced himself the first day of the table read, you didn’t think he had any clue of what movies you were in. 

“Don’t worry, I do my research on all the pretty girls I work with,” He smirked lightly before walking away. You were left with your mouth gaping open. That was the first time he had ever actually flirted with you to the point where you could be sure he was. He had opened the flood gates for even more flirting, possibly sexual innuendos. 

And, that is exactly what happened. 

For the next two weeks, stolen glances escalated into promiscuous touches, and little flirty comments into bold, outright statements. At this point, even the crew and the rest of the cast were beginning to catch on. The crew would gossip on the sidelines wondering when the two of you would finally hook up. Now, every time you two kissed on set, it had a hint of passion and longing behind it. It ached your core and burnt your insides. 

One night, you were in your hotel room, watching a rerun of an old television show. You had on a white silk nightgown that was gifted to you from your parents after you won your first award. It was almost a little too short, but it was good enough for you to sleep in your room. 

The cast and crew stayed in the same hotel, and oftentimes you would run into them when getting a midnight snack. You didn’t mind the constant company; it made filming less lonely, especially since you had replaced your ex-boyfriend with your new eating habits. 

You laid comfy in your bed when you were suddenly jostled from your thoughts by a knock on the door. You furrowed your brows, confused as to who could knock on your door at this late night hour. You shrugged your shoulders, getting up and unlocking the door without checking the peephole. 

You opened the door to reveal Austin Butler. 

He had on a white t-shirt with a silver chain on, and boxers. His hair was disheveled and he had a small smirk on his face that didn’t seem like it was leaving. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Who looks this good at this hour? “H-hi, what are you doing here?” You found yourself in a vulnerable position, unable to form coherent words at the sight of him looking like this at your doorstep. 

“Thought I’d stop by. I couldn’t sleep tonight,” he spoke in a tone much darker than normal. His Elvis accent had impacted his voice greatly, and it was even more attractive than you thought. 

“You don’t have anyone else to bother at this hour?” You joked, regaining your composure and propping yourself against the door. 

“I mean, I’d rather bother you if that’s alright,” His eyes had a tiny sparkle in them. You couldn’t even look away from the constant eye contact he held. 

“Am I signing myself up for a night of teasing and bullying?” You took a step forward, feeling more confident. You knew this was wrong on so many levels, but you couldn’t help yourself. He was just so damn handsome. 

“Depends, sweetheart,” you shuddered at the pet name that fell out of his mouth. “I’ll do whatever you want to do.” 

The submissive words that exited his mouth felt dirty. They could be innocent in other context, however, him in his boxers didn’t really leave much else. “Really? And here I thought you were here to make me do what you want to do.” 

“And what is it you think I want you to do?” Now, he took one step closer. One more step and he would be touching your face. You were going to lose your composure again if he got any closer to you. You could smell the faint cologne left over on him and it was driving you mad. 

You slyly smiled, looking up at him with submissive eyes, “I think you want me to fuck you.” 

What the hell am I doing? You thought to yourself. Multiple curse words flew through your brain. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again but the chemistry was too undeniable to reject him. His eye contact still hasn’t broken yours, and he took one more step towards you. You could see every freckle on his face, every fleck in his eye. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Before you even had a chance to think or move, he slammed the door behind him, pushing you up against the wall and smashing his lips onto yours. It was messy, tongues colliding after weeks of sexual tension. You couldn’t even breathe, your heart jumping out of your chest as he pulled your arms above your head, pinning them against the wall. 

You moaned out lightly as his hand roamed to your neck, firmly clasping his hand around it and moving your chin up to kiss down your neck. You had a moment of clarity that was clouded by the wetness that had pooled in your underwear. “Fuck, what are we doing?” You spoke, almost coming out like a whine. He kissed up your neck, back to your lips before pulling away. 

“I want you, [Y/N]. Bad. I don’t give a fuck if this ruins everything. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says in a rushed tone, eager to kiss you again. That was enough confirmation for you and you grabbed his face and kissed him again. You jumped up, allowing  yourself to wrap your legs around his waist. He was bulkier than before; he had worked out a lot for his role. Your fingers roamed down his arms, feeling the biceps he worked so hard for. You could feel him moving towards your bed, lips still intertwined. 

You two dropped down on the bed, his body weight on top of you as he pulled your legs out from under him. His fingers traced your leg, feeling up the hem of your nightgown. At this point, you were soaking wet. It took all your night to just not come right then and there. His fingers dipped into the waistband of your underwear, his thumb brushing over your clit gently. You gasped at the sudden contact, pulling away from his lips to look into his eyes. Maintaining eye contact, he peeled down your panties, down your shins, and over your feet until you were bare in front of him. “God, this little thing is so fucking hot,” he referred to the silk nightgown. He kneeled down, kissing up your leg before getting to your thigh. You were restless, small moans exiting your mouth. 

“Oh!” You gasped as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, nose brushing against the inside of your thighs, your clit hot and throbbing in front of him. As he tasted you for the first time, it was everything he imagined and more. Sweet on his tongue. You let out an audible moan as his fingers entered your aching core while sucking your clitoris with his mouth. A fire struck your veins, your fingers desperately grabbing for his hair as he licked and sucked, your back curling as he brought you closer to the edge. 

He could tell you were close, his fingers pumping in and out of you. He could feel your walls beginning to tighten, numerous moans and curse words falling from your lips consistently. He removed his mouth from your clit, taking his fingers away as well. He looked up at you, your mouth parted open and cheeks red with desire and agony. Seeing you in this state was everything Austin wanted and more. “Why d-did you stop?” 

He slowly began to kiss down your thigh, saying, “Because you’re going to come when I tell you to.” 

“Please, Austin,” you pleaded, eyes begging for more. He moved towards you, his chest on yours. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you what you really want.” 

You grabbed his face to kiss him again, tasting yourself on his lips. You hastily reached down to slide his shirt off, and then his boxers off, and you were met by his erect cock, springing free. He was way bigger than you expected, and you almost wondered how you were going to fit him inside of you. With no hesitation, you flipped the two of you over, your waist hovering over his as you leaned down to kiss him again. He was shocked by your dominance, moving his hands from your legs up to your waist to slowly remove the nightgown off your body. 

You began grinding against him, groans exiting his mouth as he massaged your breasts. Now, those were a different story. He couldn’t keep his hands off them. They were perfect and just as he imagined they would be ever since you walked on set. He moved between your bodies with his free hands, grabbing his cock and sliding it through your folds until it was aligned with your entrance. You could feel him teasing you as he moved the tip between your wet folds slowly. “Fuck, please. I need you inside of me,” You begged.

“How bad do you want it?” He whispered against your lips. His tip slipped into you with one smooth move, showing no sign of moving. You tried to slide down on him but he would not let you.

“Austin, please, baby. I want you so bad. I want you deep inside of me,” That was all he needed to hear, and he released his cock as you slid down on him. You both moaned at the same time, and your walls wrapped him warmly. You were paralyzed, adjusting to his size. His hands were gripping your hips as you started rolling towards him. You were in charge, and he liked it. The way your tits bounced up and down as you sped up, your eyes never breaking eye contact with his. 

"You are so fucking tight, sweetheart," He grabbed your hips, beginning to control the tempo as he thrusted up into you. Your hand moved towards your clit, slowly making figure eights around your soaked core. 

"Austin," You whined as he went so fast all you could hear was the sound of skin slapping, your tits mesmerizing him as he watched you crumble. 

"Say my name again,” He watched as your head leaned back, eyes shut tight. 

“Austin," You said, his name coming out in a whining moan. You could feel yourself nearing closer and closer to the edge, and he could once again feel your walls tightening around him.  He knew he wouldn’t last much longer in this position, so he flipped you over with his hard cock still inside of you, your back pressed into the mattress. He resumed his previous speech, slowly placing one of your legs on his shoulder. 

“Oh my god, yes,” you moaned out, your eyes still squeezed shut, “That feels so fucking good.” 

“Look at me when I’m fucking you,” His tone was dark and you almost didn’t even recognize him when you looked up at him. His jet-black hair was pooled over his eyes as he pounded into you, sweat heading his forehead. He was gripping your hips so hard you were sure you were going to be bruised the next day. He put your other leg over his shoulder and you were certain that was the position you were going to come in. 

You were an absolute mess, squirming and moaning as he could feel your walls clench around him. “Oh my god, I’m going to come,” you exclaimed. “P-please, can I come?” 

“Do you want to come for me?” 

“Yes, please,” You whimpered, breathing heavily as the burning pit in your abdomen grew. “I’m so fucking close.” 

“Come for me, [Y/N].” His voice was enough to send you over the edge. He watched as you worked through your orgasm, toes curling and back arching off the bed as you tried to maintain eye contact with him. He could feel his own release coming close to, biting his lip as he tried to suppress his moans. 

He pulled out just as he was about to explode, motioning for you to go over to him. You sat on your knees, cupping your tits together as he let out a string of curse words. “Fuck, [Y/N]. I’m going to come, baby,” he moaned out as his warm liquids painted your chest. He looked so submissive in this angle, his chest heaving as he met his release. 

The two of you fell backwards almost immediately, chests rising and falling as you took in what the two of you just did. Thoughts ran rampant in your brain as you realized you two could’ve possibly ruined the chemistry between your characters. You could hear him still breathing heavily beside you as he spoke his first words, “I’ve wanted to fuck you like that for a while.”

You looked over at him, eyes gazing over his naked body. “You did?”

“You were my celebrity crush, you know.”

You sat up a little, propping yourself up on his shoulders and leaning over to look him in the eyes. “Seriously? I kinda thought you had no idea who I was. Plus, you were dating Vanessa so I didn’t think you noticed anybody.” 

Possibly bad timing to mention the ex. 

He chucked at your thought process, “Well, yeah, but after that, I always counted you as my celebrity crush. I would notice you on the red carpets. You always had a boyfriend, and I guess so did I, but it's weird how this worked out.” 

You lightly smiled, looking up at him as you rested your head on his chest, “I guess so. But, this can’t be anything, you know that, right?” You hated to be the bearer of bad news, but it didn’t feel right. The two of you were co-workers and everyone knew how bad it was for co-workers to be involved. It could impact the entirety of filming. 

“Yeah. We’re just rebounding from our exes,” He agreed. “It’s for the best anyway.” 

You couldn’t help but deny the twinge of pain in his voice. 

“Exactly, some good old-fashioned sex. Which you’re pretty good at if I say so,” you joked as you began to get up to put your nightgown back on. “I do have to go to bed though, and I don’t think I can let you sleep here for obvious reasons, so…” 

You trailed off, slipping your nightgown over your body once more. “Right, of course,” he spoke as he stood up and snatched his shirt off the floor. “Just to be clear, you are going to let me fuck you like that again?” 

You smirked at him, moving towards him slowly. “Oh, absolutely, we are doing that again.” 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request 

#austin butler #elvis #elvis 2022 #priscilla presley #austin butler smut #austin butler imagine #smut #austin smut

[aconflagrationofmyown]

but then…Gigi

Warnings: the usual for this universe with crass language and descriptions of bodies (flattering and negative) with use of the words fat, etc. some heavy petting and kissing and talk of blow jobs, age gap, mentions of drugs, mentions of and an actual enema described in the most respectful and vague way that I could manage? strictly caretaking in tone and help regarding serious health concerns

Rating18+: Mature for some sexual language, some sexual scenes, subject matter, dark thought processes and health specifics

Word Count: 10k 🤭

Special Thanks: to baby girls @stylespresleyhearted & @eliseinmemphis who’ve breathed this universe into being and for my friends who gave their input and assurances for this chapter. And to all of y’all who said to go full real and raw in this one, incorporate the hard and ugly parts with the soft and lovely -just like life. Thank you, this urging has helped me go ahead and write something I’m very proud of and hope touches y’all, too.

Graceland at night will always remind Gigi of the first time coming, seeing the house all lit up at the end of the drive's curve, window lights twinkling at her and the promise of his presence inside filling her with butterflies.

Tonight Elvis’ hand is heavy on her ankle and its little chain instead, as it lays in his lap as he drives them up and around back himself, the garage opening like witchcraft without Gigi noticing a single employee besides Sam down at the gate. What a change a week makes.

It’s his home, she thinks fondly at the sight of the back kitchen door. Seems ages since this afternoon when he sent her out here to wait in the garage as he took care of business. They must both be thinking the same thing as they loiter in the Stutz for a little while after he turns the engine off, as if scared some remnants of ghoulish Alden’s might remain inside.

She slips her hand into his big paw at last and he seems to startle out of a reverie in order to give her a tight smile. His sweaty skin glitters from the garage light and it’s muted and pretty as a painting. “Thanks for bringing me home, daddy.” she whispers and if a kid ever got the chance to be brought to the North Pole by Santa, Elvis ain’t sure they’d be more grateful than this shimmery eyed girl child in his seat.

Who the fuck didn’t want this sweet little thing? Who made her so desperate she’s coming home with a washed up old man who’s notorious for having a revolving bed? Elvis chuckles mirthlessly at the thought that even he is so beat that right now he is more preoccupied with how to distract her so he can slip away and do a damn enema.

Life is rarely fair, but it definitely ain’t fair to poor Gigi. The least he can do is tell her,

“Stay put, baby girl.” as he gets out on his side and limps over to the passenger door and opens it for her like his mama taught him, hoping he doesn’t look as stiff as he feels.

He must fail at that. No sooner does she duck her head and emerge from the car, one long leg at a time, than she’s by his side with an arm looped around his waist as if she could support him were he to tumble, kicking the passenger door closed with her still shoeless foot.

Nasty habit that, going around barefoot, he’s gonna have to break her of it, this lack of shoes, and she’s gonna have to shower before getting into bed, no way he’s gonna have grimy sooties in his sheets.

Gigi pulls Elvis’ arm over her shoulder like they’re two marines headed up a beachhead and he’s had his leg blown off, her smile is the only thing keeping him from shoving her off to prove just how fine he is. God. Why?

“What’re you doin’?” he asks instead keeping his feet firmly planted, blinking owlishly at her and she gives in to the temptation to swipe the mop of hair off his forehead. She thinks he looks so distinguished with it swept back, each of his striking features lifted by the volume. She spies some gray roots in the glow of the back door light and it makes her smile, she wonders if she can talk him into styling it the old way again, or a version of it. The way it naturally fell when he was licking her.

“I’m helping ya.” she replies with confused cheeriness.

“I don’t need it.” he insists while squeezing her waist in an attempt to make the blow land softer.

She gives him the closest thing to a suspicious look that he’s ever seen out of this guileless creature. “C’mon in honey.” he changes tactics and taps her butt, getting her to move up the few stairs to the kitchen and willing himself not to wince as he bends his knee.

Gigi is watching him like a hawk and it makes him feel very decrepit and he can just hear the ribbing from the guys about coming back hobbling after taking out a young lady a few years too vigorous for him.

That thought makes him pull his arm off her shoulder and he goes back to squeezing her waist. Which now that he thinks of it, she’s very skimpily dressed still. Just the panties and his jacket. Elvis hopes most of them have gone to bed inside or are out.

The house is far more homey when there’s less people in it, Gigi thinks, as they cross the threshold and no booming bass hits their ears or the tinkling den of party guests. Just the gentle clatter of cutlery and quiet hum of low conversation which ends up being Mary at the sink and Lamar still sat where Gigi got the keys from him at the kitchen counter, eating his burger in between sharing it with Dinah. Dinah who’s making chewing ground beef and onions an art form of seduction. It’s a little off putting if Gigi is being honest which she tries to be but Elvis makes an outright noise of disgust at being met with this in his own home.

“Fuck’s sake Lamar,” he grunts and his friend drops his bun in surprise at the sudden apparition of the two runaways, “don’t ya need to polish a windshield or somethin?”

“I’ll help polish your hubcap, baby.” Dinah purrs into Lamar’s ear and Gigi’s eyes bug about as much as the driver’s.

“Out, both of ya.” Elvis snaps his finger towards the door and Lamar lumbers by with a murmured

“Sorry EP- just sorta happened…”

as he goes with Dinah skipping past them with a wink and a tipsy gait that suggests smoking too much grass in one day.

“Jesus.” Elvis mutters, wondering what the hell is up with this group of friends and holds Gigi tighter lest she pick up on bad behavior as they venture into the den and past it to the living room, seeking out humankind.

There are no Alden’s to be found but unfortunately there is a scene unfolding on the couch of two frizzy blondes clawing at each other while unhinging their jaws like mating hippos, the better to lick each other’s tonsils. Dodger sits to the side in her usual spot in the rocker with her pipe, heedlessly crushing her crossword opposition.

“Tammy!” Gigi gasps in glee at her friend’s scandalous public behavior and the way her red acrylics have torn poor Jerry’s shirts to literal shreds, biceps and fuzzy golden pecs on almost-full display. Not that he seems to mind with the way his hips keep pumping up and his hands are wedged in the back pockets of her cutoffs.

“Jerrah,” Elvis thunders after her exclamation and only then does the hippo-love-fest- cease and Dodger raise her head in order to look Gigi up and down from the anklet on her footsie to the crown of her pretty blonde head, “the hell you doin’?” Elvis demands of his friend, “Comin’ into my home, fuckin’ up the place with b-b-barbecue sauce and ruinin’ d-dinner while y-y-yer at it a-and now neckin’ on m’couch? It’s new, man, got it last month!”

His irate voice turns into a whine at the end and Gigi rubs her hand against his chest in soothing commiseration. “Yeah Tammy, it’s new.” she echoes him.

“Who’s this?” Dodger asks, blatantly ignoring Elvis’ plight.

“I-its Gigi, grandma, ya met her earlier?” he prompts with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows that Gigi finds as cute as a little boy and she gives the unimpressed dame a little wave.

“So many girls in here I can’t keep straight.” she huffs around her pipe.

“Speaking of, uh, how’d it go? Ya know with-“ with Ginger, Elvis means, as he runs his hand down from Gigi’s waist to grab her hand and hold it.

“Oh uh,” Jerry rights himself on the couch and clasps his hands like he has some shred of professionalism left to him in that ribboned shirt, “it’s been handled. Wasn’t pretty but -well, the termination was pretty obvious. Ya gotta be a little more than delusional to push it when your ‘fiancé’ has left to go … out to eat.”

Gigi bites her lip to stall her giggle at his phrasing and burrows closer to Elvis while looking up to see his reaction, follow his lead. The man couldn’t look less sympathetic for her Predecessor and some guilty little cloud that has been hanging over Gigi all evening dissipates under the bright light of his justification.

“Good,” he murmurs lowly, “didn’t want it all fussy, jus’ wasn’t meant to be. Was wrong about it all.” and that seems like a very gentle and kind concession for him to make, just as he doesn’t seem to regret the fact it is very much over.

“Well, uh, now that’s been handled…” Jerry trails off in the manner of those waiting for recognition of a job well done. He doesn’t get it. And so he continues after a beat, “Now that’s done I’ll just be uh, on m’way-“

“-No!” Elvis protests urgently and suprises evryone with his vehemence. “I-I mean don’t go, I need ya man. I-I mean, ya just got here, ya know? A-a-and where’s everybody else gotten to?”

There it is, Jerry thinks with a sigh, he’s needed since the house is empty, it’s got nothing to do with being missed. “Well, Hodge and Ricky spent most the afternoon clearing Ginger’s stuff out at her request and tidyin’ up the master for when ya get back. They’re takin’ the last of her shit over now.”

“Oh.” Elvis accepts this with a thoughtful nod, “Thas good.” he declares softly. “Well, don’t go man, not yet. Not till they get back. You just stopped by and I ain’t seen ya and we can play pool?” Elvis tempts him.

Jerry tries to ignore the way Tammy’s hand has crept into the back of his jeans and is wiggling a finger at his crack. “Uh, ok, yeah I mean- ain’t you tired, Boss?”

“Oh jus’ need a lil refresher, then I’ll be back down, right as rain. I’ll smoke ya.” Elvis replies easily and Jerry picks up on the reason for his insistence like a well trained hound.

A refresher. Be right back down.

Jerry glances over at the cute little stage five clinger holding onto Elvis like he’s a teddy bear she won in a striptease carnival and he gets the memo loud and clear.

“A-a-and it ain’t gentlemanly, you leavin’ Tammy after such a display, a girl’s owed more than that.” Elvis gets desperate enough to pull that one out and Jerry hides his laugh with a dry cough.

“Yeah, yeah I wouldn’t wanna miss seein’ you.” Jerry agrees, “Came just to see how ya were.” he admits the truth of it. “I’ll be down here when you’ve freshened up.”

“Alright.” Elvis nods.

“What’d you two get up to anyway?” Jerry starts a conversation and looks to Gigi for an answer, she doesn’t seem inclined to answer, favoring petting Elvis’ chest instead, but when he doesn’t say anything she picks up the social cue and replies for them both since he seems tired,

“We went back to my place.” she admits breezily, “The only place we could think to hide out. I’m not dressed for anything much.” and she pouts in a way that suggests she thinks she is but an executive decision was made to hide her.

“Ya went to the apartment?” Tammy is grinning wildly and she scoots closer to Jerry, patting at the seat next to her for a juicy retelling. Elvis shuffles the Siamese twins that he and Gigi have become over to the couch and gently disentangles her to sit next to her friend, exchanging a vehement look with Schilling.

“Yes we did!” Gigi is glowing with the memory and his heart aches.

“Who’s this again?” Dodger repeats, too distracted by the sight of a panty clad woman on the red couch to go back to her crossword with full mental capacity.

“This is Gigi, Dodger.” Jerry repeats gently but with more volume as if that’ll sink in better.

“Yes, I’m Gigi.” she’s eager to make a good impression, bless her and her full cotton-crotched display. Elvis starts to creep away in a stealthy little meander from the couch now that Gigi is facing away from the stairs.

“You from Memphis?” Dodger asks sourly, and this plays well into his ploy, Dodger has two moods -not giving a rat’s ass about what happens around her or else being a goddamn one-woman inquisition.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Born?”

“In Memphis, ma’am!”

“Your parents?”

“Mama’s French but Daddy is from Hardiman county.”

“French, hmph.” Dodger picks out the one unacceptable nugget and latches on, “I went to France once…”

Elvis can taste the inquisition coming on and it should buy him a good thirty minutes. Thirty minutes should work if he can just relax and not fuck it up with nervous retention. A ticking clock always makes him clamp up. He bites his lip and reminds himself just how awful it would be for Gigi to learn what his regimen requires. He takes the first step soundlessly, then the second. He’s made it to the third by the time he hears a distant-

“Oh Gigi!-“ from Jerry and the feel of a soft hand on his elbow. She looks so at home on his stairs that Elvis feels like marveling, like she was meant to go up to this sanctum-sanctorum that he trusts so few to see. Not for the first time today he feels as if he’s being looked at with eyes as unconditionally loving -and presumptive- as his Yissa’s.

“Are we going up now?” Gigi asks in a giddy little whisper and Elvis wonders if she really just tore out of the living room and Dodger’s chat in order to be with him. Not even housebroke, this one.

“Gigi, it ain’t polite leavin’ Dodger like that.” he rebukes gently and the glee fades into consternation.

“S-she knows I went to help you!” she whimpers in protest and behind her ear he can see Schilling get up and whisper something to Tammy. It better not be any particulars.

“That’s real sweet darlin’ but I’m gonna be right down,” Elvis soothes, his hand cupping her cheek, “be right down, and family’s very important to me, Baby Girl. I’d like ya to get to know my people.”

It’s a thin excuse with one of those people being her best friend and the other his friend. He imagines it’s not the most appealing thing to sit and be grilled on genealogy by Dodger but Gigi is just gonna have to bear it.

“Can ya do that f’me Gigi?” he prods like it’s a great commission and she’s got watery eyes again and he really cannot believe someone is this sensitive, like God sent her out into life half baked with too thin a skin.

“Yeah, daddy.” she agrees softly, glancing up the stairs to where he’s barred her from going after inviting her up just this afternoon -it makes no sense to her.

He’s never seen a more dejected creature than Gigi as she slinks back to the living room, much to Jerry’s relief and encouragement, and takes her seat beside Tammy with crumpled cheerfulness. Elvis sees her wipe her eyes with the back of her wrists, like a kid, before perking up and turning back to Dodger with faux investment in the conversation.

Elvis climbs the stairs and wonders how he’s gonna manage this night after night. Hell, some mornings he needs it, too. Suddenly the irony hits him of wanting a girlfriend to stay only to now find the reality of that much too oppressively clingy for his pride. He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do about it but for now he opens the padded doors to his room and notices with satisfaction the orderly sanitation that Hodge conducted on the place. He leaves his door adjar, no fear of intruders in this house with its well worn habits and spoken and unspoken rules. He calls up Yissa first and foremost, and while she’s in the middle of something she drops her project and they eat up a good bit of his thirty minutes with conversation. Not that he minds or counts. He’d sit on burning coals every night if that’s what had to happen to talk to his little girl. When she has to go he hangs up the receiver and goes about setting up his routine in the bathroom.

Below him, Gigi crosses and recrosses her ankles under Tammy’s smirking scrutiny and tries to listen to Dodger’s questions with due attention even as Tammy whispers filthy questions in her ear about her time with Elvis.

“Haven’t you got any shoes?” This is Dodger’s most recent concern.

“Yes ma’am I do.” Gigi patiently insists.

“Never see you in any shoes.”

“Well I- it was a pool day, you see?”

“If ya got shoes you should wear them.” Dodger moralizes and Gigi can see her point, even if she doesn’t agree.

“Yes ma’am.” she murmurs as her heart wanders upstairs where she’s seemingly not allowed.

“Get my grandson to buy ya some shoes.” Dodger points at her.

Tammy, who’s not even bothering to act like she’s listening to Dodger, starts to crack up in laughter at this berating of the point, she catches Jerry’s eye in her mirth and like lovers often do, they set each other off into a series of giggles that soon lose their context and Gigi is left more alone than ever.

She looks about the place and thinks of a million things she’d like to ask Elvis’ grandma, if he had a normal grandma. One of those cuddley, gingerbread types that the world had led Gigi to believe were ubiqtous. Instead there’s just this aged artifact from another century, smoking her pipe and staring at Gigi like she’s the oddity.

“Is that weed?” Gigi asks hopefully, nodding at the pipe’s smoking bowl.

Upstairs Elvis had slipped into a plush blue robe he uses exclusively for these purposes to keep the chill away, and having ordered his accouterments, had proceeded only a small way into his routine when the damn intercom blared to life and spooked the ever lovin’ crap outta him. He fumbled with his tools and lost his progress, angrily washing his hands so he could buzz back.

“Elvis, come get yer floozy,” Dodger was saying over the loud speaker, “she’s cryin’ in the den.”

Of course she was, he seethed and felt like breaking the glass in his frustration over no one being competent enough to wrangle a single teenage girl from intruding on him for half an hour.

“Gigi, she don’t mean nothin by that!” he could hear Charlie’s voice faintly in the background and the fact that even with reinforcements they couldn’t handle this made Elvis laugh in manic hopelessness.

“Tell her to grow up, Goddamnit, or I’ll send her home.” he roared through the intercom, punching the button with a vicious jab.

It was quiet for a few moments after that. Fed up and miserable with pain, Elvis stepped away from the button and grabbed another enema bulb and poured in the saline, warming it in the sink and slicking up the catheter with a lubricant that used to remind him of happier times -now his mind associates it with this. He released the button before hearing the response - downstairs Gigi’s sobbing whimper and Tammy offering her friend support by calling him an ‘ass.’

Unable to get the angle right he gave up his attempt to do it standing and grabbed his allocated mat for these purposes, fluffing out a black towel over it. This activity was something he did more of the set up for than anything else in his life. In decades. Having his crew carry the cases of supplies around was humiliation enough, he didn’t need anyone around him to get a firm impression of the details, which laying out towels and lubing up tubes inevitably gave. Mystery was important for respect, and there weren’t no mystery here. And little, if any, dignity either.

Elvis got down on the mat with a brutal pop of his left knee. He heard his own whimper and it sounded like a wounded creature, not at all himself. It was cold down here on the tiled floor with just a thin mat between him and the marble but he could lay down at least and reach behind himself and make his tense body relax enough to accept and dispel what it needed.

Getting up and to the toilet from the ground was the hard part. And he’d bite that challenge off when he needed to.

“Daddy?” he heard faintly outside his room, through the barrier of a wall and half closed door, but while his sight suffered and his body failed him, his ears were sharp as ever and for a brief moment his heart leapt at the unexpected joy of his Lisa coming early. Then he heard again, “Daddy?” And that wasn’t Lisa at all, she didn’t call him daddy and she’d never be so tentative upstairs.

Too committed to his procedure and unable to interrupt it, Elvis held his breath like he was playing hide and seek as Gigi repeated his name closer, inside the bedroom, gently but with so much sadness in her tone.

So she’d ventured up here anyway.

He tensed as she drew closer to the bathroom, drawn by the light under the door in the otherwise darkened room. This tenseness was gonna screw up his enema, he was gonna retain at this point.

“Elvis, you in there?” she asked gently on the other side of the wood and he let out a shaky breath at the inability to deny any longer, fearing she’d try the doorknob of he was silent and in his trust of his home’s stable order, he hadn’t bothered to lock it.

Gigi turned everything topsy turvy and he felt like a young kid again, getting overwhelmed when changes came to fast and nothing familiar would remain just so. He felt his breath coming fast and his vision starting to spot. Such silliness for a man in his forty’s.

“Yeah baby girl, I got in the tub for m’head.” He lied, counting on the compassion she had previosuly shown for his ailment to bolster his story. He has no body of water to splash for emphasis so he stayed stock still on his side on the cold floor and waited with baited breath for her to accept this. “And I had’ta call Lisa.”

“Oh good!” she cooed from outside, and he smirked at the confirmation that he still knew how to play ‘em. “You coulda told me, Daddy! I’d be quiet as a church mouse and coulda run the tub for you and washed your hair for you so you didn’t have to strain your shoulders.”

Did she think he needed to wash his hair? He put his hand to his head and felt grease and immediately regretted it as part of that was now lube. “Aww, you sweet thing.” he complimented her kindness vaguely even as he panicked at the thought that his lie would require a wet head. God he was so tired, he came home so he didn’t have to pretend and here he was on his bathroom floor, puttin’ in a Oscar worthy performance with a half quart of saline up the ass.

“You shouldn’t be so silly, Daddy.” she scolded sweetly and he rolled his eyes, thinking ‘if she only knew.’

“Oh?”

“I love to help you.” she insisted and she must’ve had her lips presssed to the door gap, she was so breathy and close, he could picture her smushed face now and he wanted to tear up at the sweetness. “Will you let me wash your hair, Elvis?”

He didn’t know if it was his imagination or not but he thought he saw the door handle wiggle like a hand had put weight on it. “N-n-no, I-I,” he stuttered out urgently, “I-I-I ain’t comfortable w’that.” he begged, “Not tonight i-I-i’m shy, Gigi. Believe it o-o-or not I-im shy.”

And that at least was a God’s honest truth.

“I know.” she murmured back and sounded like she was smiling herself, “I noticed. I didn’t expect that of you, but I really like it. Makes you cuter somehow.”

And being considered cute was a real heartening thing for a fella to hear, tipped on his side as he was, like a beached whale. Elvis grinned into his hand and let himself savor that. The feeling came again that Gigi really liked him as he was, except for his temper, maybe, and he could hardly fault her for not enjoyin’ it. But she liked him. As he was.

“I’m just gonna sit outside here and be with you.” she declared gently and to his alarm he heard the sound of shuffling like someone sitting down in front of the door, “We don’t haveta talk if you wanna be quiet. I understand, with your head hurtin’. I just couldn’t be away from you any longer. Please don’t make me be away from you, Elvis. It’s all I want, to be with ya.”

Elvis stared unblinking at the caulk line at the bottom of his tub. It was right at eye level down here and the varied thickness of it made him irrationally annoyed, he reached out and picked at a gloop of the dried stuff with his bitten fingernail.

“Ok.” he answered, utterly terrified.

How the hell was he gonna get off the floor, hobble to the John and do his buisness without the sound of any convincing bath effects -and her sitting right outside the door. How the hell. He figured it would be better if she were distracted.

“Tell me ‘bout your French mama.” he requests the first distraction that comes to his mind.

Gigi eagerly takes off on a tangent about her mother who was an artist and rarely in one place, how she had been born in Normandy and credited their breasts to good Norman cow milk, how she painted replica Monet’s on commission and was accordingly sued and how Gigi enjoyed being taken overseas to visit her French relations and go apple picking in the orchards and swimming in the sea -and Elvis listened to the narrative, told in her sweet voice, and allowed himself to be lulled, trying to relax before he made the effort to finish this business.

“-the seashells in Normandy are gigantic, some as big as my palm!” she was telling him as he sneakily turned over and raised himself on his knees, “Of course they wouldn’t be so big in your hands, your hands are so big and beautiful and could hold two of mine but -but they’re big. Does hawaii have big seashells?”

Elvis grunted in effort of holding it in until he could get where he was going and he still had concerns about noise with her right there. “Mm, pretty big.” he grunted out and a thought came to him as he gripped the edge of the tub for leverage to stand, “Water’s gettin’ cold, hold on sec I’m gonna top it off with some hot, won’t be able to hear ya.” he fibbed and reached to turn the handle so it gushed out a roar of water.

Satisfied with his cover, Elvis grabbed again at the tub’s edge and anyhting else that might aid his poor knees in getting off the damn floor. This is what trying to cut back on the pain meds got him, such debilitating pain that he could hardly get off the floor when just a few months ago he was able to kneel down for kisses on stage with only veiled discomfort. Not this agonizing ache and strange weakness in his limbs. He clutched at the tub faucet with it’s handled shape and pushed up.

He was a few pounds too much and after some strain and little progress, the faucet snapped out of its fixture with a deafening clatter that sounded like the ceiling had caved in, reverberating around the tiled room like a thunder clap. He fell back on his kneecaps with a searing thud.

“Lord have mercy!” he heard Gigi exclaim clearly over the roar of the empty tub, and that was because she was right beside him, having burst in with all that loving presumption at the first sound of distress. “Oh daddy, what happened? Ya slip comin’ out?”

She couldn’t get a good read on the situation with it so dim and simultaneously shiny in here, besides the confusing aspects of Elvis being dressed in a robe and dry headed as if having been out of the tub for awhile and him crouched beside it as the absent faucet still roared from its pipe against the empty porcelain. His bathroom was mainly gold, with flecks of black in the tile and accents and it disoriented her, so busy and gaudy she didn’t even notice the mat beneath her feet, assuming the spread out towel was another odd addition that went with the solid gold faucet lying wrenched from its place in the tub.

“Elvis, here, my hand!” she turned the tap off so he could hear her better and tried to get him to look up but his face was turned down with his hair hanging into his eyes. “I’ll help ya up, daddy.” she assured again, and stepped closer, crouching to brace her track hardened thighs for the ordeal of hefting such a sturdy man onto his feet.

On her way to him Gigi stepped on a clear little carton, rather like a baby bottle but far more collapsible. It was empty and squished under her foot, she picked it up curiously. “What’s this?” she asked him innocently.

He looked over at her then, up through a fan of golden lashes so thick and stiff you could hang your hat on them and answered in a dejected growl, “It’s a goddman enema, Gigi.”

She squeezed it once more till the empty thing wheezed and realisation dawned on her face. “Oh, duh.” she laughed and chucked it aside without a second thought before offering her forearm as a handle for him to grip, he rather dazedly let his hand curl around her tan flesh, “If you’re in here doin’ those ya really oughta have somebody nearby to help.” she berated him and once again he thought of Lisa and was beyond glad that it wasn’t his little daughter seeing him like this. No, it was just this big tittied sweetheart who he’d remember fondly through a haze of shame once she leaves him tonight. “Ya should have someone near to help ya get up if you’re in trouble,” she went on, “I know you’re shy. But it’s just me! I’m shy too and I let you see my pussy.”

Like that’s remotely the same as helping a man shit. “Girl,” he rebuts solemnly as he staggers to his feet with her help, feeling the liquid slosh in his gut, “some things are best left between a man and his toilet.”

“Yeah ok,” Gigi conceds, then strikes back right away, “but right now there’s nothing but a lotta distance between you and your toilet. Let me help. C’mon. This is a really pretty robe, by the way. You should always wear blue. And red, I suppose. You look so good in red. Well then there’s black, you’ve always looked good in black,” Gigi babbles and before he knows it he’s sat on the porcelain throne as she tugs the aforementioned blue robe away in the back for him, Gigi herself, lost in a world of the photos she’s cut from the papers of him at his concerts as she continues on “-and I like you in oranges, too. Never thought yellow was the best but I’ll have to see it in person. Pink makes you look kissable-“

“-Gigi,” Elvis whispers in a small voice, “could ya turn around, a’least?”

“Oh! Of course!” she spins around and faces the open bathroom door that she walks over to and shuts, confining them both in here. He means to ask her how she got away and made it all the way up here without interference, he has a buncha pussies for bodyguards. He doesn’t know Gigi was personally escorted upstairs by Dodger who was fed up with the girls tears, who pointed out the master bedroom doors and everything.

“You need to wash your feet, been in the garage and walkin’ in the street’n’shit.” he says for lack of anything better and to minimize the utterly irregerous ordeal of having a woman here for this. Bathrooms just don’t get shared for this shit. They just don’t. But here he is, losing control of one more aspect of his life. All he can focus on right now is letting the thing do it’s job so this ain’t a waste.

“Ok.” Gigi answers obediently and starts shucking her clothes without preamble, stripping down to her naked state in front of him for the second time today and she gives him a bashful grin over her shoulder like she should be the shy one before standing next to him again and turning on the shower tap. The tub and it’s damaged faucet is separate and he’s glad of the patter of rainfall that fills the room and after feeling it for temperature, Gigi soon steps in and begins a faithful lather of her body, starting with her feet.

Elvis watches transfixed as she sudses her little pink toes and the well formed shape of her heel and thumbs at her arches. He wishes to God he was in there doing that. As it is, the little show makes him forget his surroundings and he finally relaxes more than he had been able to all night. Suds are dripping off the curve of her titties like a chocolate fountain splashing off strawberries and he reaches behind him to flush without tearing his eyes from the sight, grateful for the distracting sounds of Gigi humming one of his songs and the fizz of the shower.

Whether the noise alerted her or she’s just intuitive, Gigi glances up as he gathers his robe about him and braces to stand up. “Daddy, I said Let.Me.Help.” she punctuates her sentence with aggravation that bounces off the shower wall like she’s in a stage play. She’s stepping out of the still running shower, all shiny and dripping, before he can protest, and she stands in front of him bare and gentle and he could weep at the sweet expression on her face, so devoid of anything but affection and determination to be of help.

He wonders if this is how mama felt, when she got tipsier than she’d ever have the courage to admit, when he helped her up stairs or into bed and ignored the smell of the alcohol and the slur of speech. The staggering ineptitude of a parent whose child has suddenly had to take over caring for. Mama always used to pat his head in the morning, a silent acknowledgment for his kindness but also his silence, covering her nakedness like Noah’s faithful sons.

He wants to cry. He misses mama so much, misses her assurances and her approbation that she sees him trying to do his bestest. He finds his forehead leaned against Gigi’s slick belly before he means to and finds he’s weeping with her hands in his hair before he can stop it.

“Daddy, sweet daddy, you bear up with so much.” she’s murmuring in broken hearted tones and he hears her sniffling too, and maybe it’s her saying it but it’s his mama talking though her, he’s sure of it. Here in this Gethsemane of his pride and dignity, he weeps at being found out and instead of scorn he gets warm flesh melding into his own and soft messages from his mama.

“Gigi -Jesus! -I-I dunno what to say.” he gasps, ragged and hoarse.

“You don’t? I don’t, more like.” she whispers fiercely, “The whole nation would apologize to ya if they knew how bad it’s gotten. And you never breathin’ a word. Lord daddy, you’re stronger than anyone I ever seen.”

He doesn’t feel very strong, staring at the broken faucet lying in the spatter of shower drops.

“Do ya need to do another?” she asks gently, soothing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I’ll get it ready.” she offers.

“No, m’set.” he mumbles.

“Be honest.” she warns.

“I swear, m’done. Just beat.”

“Maybe the fennel oil helped?” she hopes and maybe she’s got a point, this was easier than some.

“Maybe it did.” he’ll give her that and smiles against the curve of her belly.

“Why aren’t you usin’ coffee in the enemas instead?” she inquires much to his bewilderment, “It’s good for your liver and less abrasive on the gut. Saline just shreds you.”

“Really?” he grunts, this cute girl knows a thing or two after all, “Never heard that.”

“We’ll have to see if they help, get you a bucket and tub too, they’re easier to manage.” she decides and he wants to protest that she doesn’t get a say in such things but the fact she’s talking about a future where she’s here and meddling with enemas makes him a little woozy with hope. Gigi makes a mental note of calling up a friend who’s majoring in nursing and asking for any and all books and tips that could help in a situation like this. “Let’s get you washed and put to bed.” she encourages him, scratching at the base of his head and feeling the steam roll off of him, inflammation and exhaustion pouring out from his skin, “no way you’re up for shooting pool with Jerry.”

“Oh that was just to get him to keep an eye on you.” Elvis laughs as she helps him stand, never once planning on playing pool tonight of all nights.

Gigi rolls her eyes at him and pouts at his deviousness, Elvis is just glad she’s focusing on that and not the surrounding accouterments any longer, “It really hurt me you didn’t want me with you.” she informs him with grave maturity that somehow makes a mockery of her nineteen years, she looks more fragile than ever, even in this attempt at communicating her needs.

“And I don’t want ya seeing me do this.” He replies as gently as he can as the shower roars next to them and fills the room with billows of steam, “Like I said, some things are between a man and his toile-“

“-and his toilet, yeah. But I’m me!” she explains with a wide smile and he’s really got no clear, available arguments against such impregnable, optimistic, self-exalting while at the same time being utterly selfless -logic.

It’s like arguing with a very pretty lunatic, one with ripe tits still shiny from her shower and crooked little front teeth behind full lips and eyes that could convince him of anything at all -and Elvis wonders if this is how folks feel with him. Is he this infuriating? Do they get a thrill of confusion and reward in doing what he asks? Is it some sorta weird ass loop over and over that has them denying then agreeing right after, again and again?

“Let’s get you in the shower daddy.” Gigi is saying with a roll of her eyes at *his* silliness and Elvis watches in a sort of disembodied trance as she undoes the thick tie holding his robe closed.

This is another thing he was gonna take slow. Getting naked, touching and being touched no faster or intensely than what he directed and allowed. And…well, there it goes, his robe and his resolve opened up and pushed off his shoulders as slow as a strip tease while this perfect young thing has her watching face transformed from caring into something so hungry and admiring he actually feels his pulse quicken.

That’s more like it, the natural order of things is somewhat restored when the caregiver shifts from viewing him with solicitude to viewing him with the divine and fathomless want that is feminine arousal.

But still.

Sweet Jesus, it’s been forever since someone reacted to his body that way. The face sure, the man -yes, and the legendary presence is a given. But that’s all outliers of him, of poor little ole Elvis alone in his own room, in his own house, without the trappings. Nobody in a long while has taken the trappings off and moaned like a paid whore at the sight of something so utterly human and a little faulty as his body now is. A body Elvis has fought and lost against for well over a decade now.

The robe puddles around his feet and he expects it’s time to get in the shower if Gigi would pull her eyes up from his protruding gut. She’s already seen it once today when she unzipped his jacket. After an overly long review where he can actually see her crane her head down to try to see his pecker -jokes on her, the gut hides it- and up his treasure trail to his chest and his neck and his chin and his lips-

-Gigi throws her arms around his shoulders and kisses him. The sight of him naked and hairy, manly and huge, with a hanging belly too much for her to hold her desires back any longer.

Elvis is as warm as she remembers and with his body unimpeded by a tracksuit or a robe she can now fully press her body against his, standing toe to toe with their heights not too dissimilar, making it wonderful and easy to kiss him as she presses herself to every inch of his tacky skin, so much muscle and discipline polished beneath the soft and hairy bulk. It makes her feel small, just how wide and broad and large he is in comparison to her, tall and lanky as she is, she’s never been little before, but with this bear of a man she could curl into his barrel chest and pull the hairy curtains closed and be tucked away from it all. Like a fairytale princess in her favorite oak.

“I want you to crush me.” she moans in his ear as she curves her body to align with the pouch of his belly, her ass stuck out for optimal contact and Elvis groans in response, seeing the pair they make in the fogging mirror.

Something in him responds to the rightness of the image presented, fogged by the steam and softened where they’re two pink cherubs caught in an embrace, her soft breast resting on the dome of his furred chest.

Both complimentary but untraditional in their combination, - a sorta Gainsbourg and Birkin vibe where everyone’s left wondering how exactly the gargoyle got the maiden -or the thickening rockstar got this sweet piece of ass- but nobody doubts the sex is blazing hot.

It’s sexy as hell and the temperate side of himself that health and Ginger had been striving to coax into the fore, plummets into a lava filled grave at the primal, loin swelling satisfaction of Gigi and her nakedness pressed to him, writhing against him, reveling in him and trusting in his masculine abilities to satisfy her.

He grips an ass cheek in his hand, spanning from hip to crack, and crushes it to him meanly, pinching her soft skin with hsi rings, his other arm flung about her ribs and pressing her nearer there, too. Gigi lets out the happiest cry of completion at him granting her request. It’s breathless and short from the lack of air left in her lungs.

“This how ya like it?” Gigi hears him rumble darkly in her ear and she feels herself dribble at his voice alone, finding the feeling of all his strength and power pressed to her more overwhelming that any self-brought pleasure.

She can only nod her head frantically in agreement, his grip too hard and tight for anything else, she feels like she’s floating and somehow that’s more grounding for her than anything else she’s ever felt in her life. He must feel her shudder as he responds with one of his own and readjusts his grip on her butt, fingertips grazing the underside of her cheek and teasing the folds that lead to where she’s a wet mess for him.

He teases there for a moment, tiny, ticklish little swipes to the back of her waxed pussy lips and then he curls his fingers again and grips harder than even before, into her plush ass and he lifts her up to her tiptoes by the hold, making them level before slotting his mouth against hers, the closest thing to sloppy in his kisses that she’s yet experienced from him.

It delights her. This gritty, unmeasured side of him that doesn’t take things in measured and calculated amounts. She wants to be mauled and squeezed and have the crescent indentions of his fingernails on her ass. She wants to be irresistible to him, she wants him to appraise and enjoy her like she’s both precious and objectively the only thing he wants to squeeze and fuck for the rest of his life. She’s ready for that life. Gigi mauls him back, careful to be gentle with her pressure but she kneads his soft sides and the thick cording of his neck, so full of strength but also inflammation -and she suddenly recalls the shower.

Having broken their kiss, they both glance over at the pattering water. And it’s better this way, neither having to break up the moment, they both just seem to agree and proceed to amble over in a waddling embrace and step into the lavish shower.

Gigi has already washed but she won’t be the one reminding Elvis of that as he squirts a generous amount of shampoo into his hands and grumbles about her stupid drugstore lemon shit. That wanting to have him paw at her and be a little sleazy in his touches is gratified by the way he spends too long on her boobs, something that is traditionally a rather clean body part. But his boyish little smile and the single minded lostness on his face he suds up their heavy weight and let’s her large pink nipples slide through his knuckles, his pink tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he gently jiggles the slippery firmness of them, makes Gigi sigh in dreamy delight that she can bring him joy by standing in the shower and letting him wobble her boobs, clapping them together one minute and jostling them the next to make the soap suds slid and back and forth along the runway to her nipples. They might have stayed at that game all night, both quite invested in never letting one little congregation of bubbles slip off the Cherry red cliff onto the shower floor. But Elvis yawned once and just like that they decided it was time to wash him and go to bed. With a sad kiss goodbye to one of her large nipples, Elvis allows for the roles to be reversed.

Of course washing him was strictly utilitarian. What was she on about, lathing his shins and his thighs and squeezing his ass like he was a nineteen year old girl? And what was it about Gigi rubbing his shoulders as she went and then turning him around into the spray to wash it off as she started to work at his front, giggling to herself as she swooshed his chest hair into certain patterns with the slippery soap. She even hefted his own boob flaps up, something he fuckin’ hated even existed right now, and she did it with heavy lidded eyes and bitten lips like she was getting off on this, on swishing suds around his large belly before squatting to get her first peak at lil Elvis.

He was still soft, or mostly so, but what shocked Gigi was how thick he was even in repose. Laying heavily on his thigh, his length was nothing much, decent but not particularly matching of his long limbs, but his thickness was to a degree that she wished she did have the stupid Lemon Up shampoo to compare it to, it wasn’t too far off. She didn't know dicks came in that size, the sorta size that makes babies heads coming out seem like not much of an escalation. Alright maybe not that big but he was large, very thick and cutely stubby and Gigi wondered if maybe it was swollen like the rest of him, if it changed with age or weight, if his pink and vulnerable little head was always peaking out of its tan sheath and if his stones were always so large and heavy, asking for the same treatment as her boobs got.

She cupped them with a dollop of shampoo in her hand and jostled the heavy sack gently and with joy in her heart. Elvis lurched forward to lean his forearm against the shower wall to steady himself.

“Gigi, honey, be brief.” he begged and if he’d have commanded her, then she might’ve popped the heavy balls into her mouth just to show him what she thought about him always denying himself any fun, but Elvis was begging and above her his belly heaved with his labored breathing and much as she wanted to see him swell to life, she cared more about seeing him rested.

Reluctantly she finished with a swipe and rinse to the back of his sack and between his crack which made him jump like a critter ran up it instead of a diligent hand. Gigi liked it when he was boyish and shy like that. It makes her press a kiss to his floppy little dick, so heavy and promising in its shrunken state and he lets out a scandalized groan at the feel of her nibbling at the tip with her lips.

“No, no honey don’t.” he begs and gives her a hand to pull her up, she remains steadfastly on her knees with a hand on little Elvis like he’s a handle of some sort. “Good girls don’t do such things.” He explains gently but with firmness, “There ain’t no need, that’s not somethin’ I need from a sweet thing like you.”

Gigi is far from relieved. In fact, if the shower spray weren’t so universal he’d think her eyes were welling with tears for the zillionth time tonight.

“What?” he barks in absolute confusion.

“But I wanna suck you!” she begs, hoarse and throaty and -she’s definitely back to crying again, sweet Jesus, he’d gotten himself a huge tittied young woman who cried over not being allowed to have his cock in her mouth.“I practiced just for the odd chance I ever met you!” she pleads in a desperate cry.

“What?” Elvis looks down at her perturbed and has to admit, unsettled as he is by this, she sure does look pretty right at cock level.

“I practiced with a nice guy who was cut so I had to pretend.” she explains mournfully and Elvis hauls her bodily up by her elbows against the tile to understand this riddle.

“Thought you said you were a virgin, baby.” he chides in confusion about the aspect of practicing for him.

“I am!” She swears, “But I practiced for you! See, I can-“ and she sticks her fingers back to her tonsils with only a small gag that makes Elvis’ masculine heart twinge in admiration.

But he’s better than this. He’s beyond appreciating her gag control and needs to know about this so called nice guy. “Darlin’ who’s this feller?” Elvis has a knack for recalling names and he’s gonna shoot this sonuvabitch if he can find him.

“He was a sweet trucker,” she explains with dreamy reminiscence, “about your age or older, and he fixed my flat tire when it popped near Jackson last year. He was real sweet and I wanted to thank him. He shared his Sundrop with me and he had one of your albums on the radio in his cab. So we talked about you and I told him how I loved you -this was a year ago- and how I wished I could meet you and show you how I loved you. And he lived in Meridian, see, and he sounded a little like you and he had dark hair and this gorgeous belly and when I sucked him I listened to your voice singing through the radio and pretended it was you.”

She finishes this saga with a simple head nod, like that’s all real tidy and normal. Elvis just gapes and a million feelings rush through him, horror at the fact she’s this gullible and unprotected, followed by burning pride at the idea of having been a preoccupation of her’s for so long. Some of this smacks of psycho stalker fan and he should probably run for the hills but Gigi pretended to blow him a year or so ago with a flabby truck diver and Elvis has a vision of that happening again if he somehow screws this up and she ends up on her own again.

That just can’t happen. He shuts his mouth and coughs, realizing that just can’t happen. “Do you like fat men, Gigi?” he asks soberly.

She looks a little hurt by this before replying with wounded devotion and a wobble of her wet lip, “I only love you.”

Elvis sighs and shakes head in astonishment and presses a kiss to the top of her wet head before turning off the shower stream. She likes it when he rolls his eyes at her but doesn’t push her away, Doesn't say she’s silly, just kisses her into compliance. She likes that.

She likes it even better when he was wet and large in the shower grinning down at her, wrapping her up in towels they had to waddle to the drawers to get in dripping pairs.

“You’re somethin’ else, baby.” he tells her but never says it’s too much. She’s waited all night for him to tell her she’s too much it she’s too clingy or she’s too effusive and he hasn’t said it yet.

Gigi helped him step into his silk pajamas pants, he was strangely meek and appreciative of this sort of help and it made her sigh with relief, letting her guard down as she did up the buttons of his sleep shirt under his smiling gaze. She had to ignore the chill of the room on her bare skin, gooseflesh pricking beneath chilled droplets, but it was worth it for the way his eyes ravished her with searching adoration, every single part of her.

Elvis offered her pajamas of her own, too, matching his own. She declared she never could sleep in clothes and the shocked little O of his mouth made her giggle, then he looked hurt and tried very hard to persuade her to try it for him.

“C’mon baby, everybody needs ‘jamies.” he sweet talks to her, holding open the waist band.

“I can’t sleep in them! It’s got elastic!” she sounded like a child forced to eat collards.

“Gigi, wear some pajamas,” Elvis tried sternness, “do it for your daddy, now.”

She sobered up at that, while remaining dried eyed much to his relief. With a slowness of movement and a grimace of distaste that showed her dislike, Gigi took the pajama top from him and slid it on.

It hung there unbuttoned with her bare cunt out and her belly and tits and legs and everything nearly, except for her covered arms, and then she smiled at him with self sacrificing serenity in her eyes while murmuring, “Only for you, daddy.”

And that’s how they ended in bed with Gigi in nothing but an open silk pajama shirt, sans bottoms, with an embroidered E of her right yam.

“I can’t believe they expect you to tour like this.” she muttered as his sweet expressions turned to grimaces and groans upon stretching out on the mattress. Tired from just entertaining a girl and her friends. The closest to angry he thinks Gigi is capable of as she scrunches her brows in frustration and he finds he has to hide a smile instead of telling this little girl to mind her own. She’s frustrated for his own benefit.

“I got good days and bad days.” he explains, turned on his side and stroking her face where it lay on their shared pillow, the room dark except for a lamp on, showing them in the mirror above. “Today were tougher than some, not ‘cause of you but jus’-“

“You woke up with a migraine.” She recalled and he is touched by that.

“Yeah, and had to take more pills for it.” he agrees, “and I gotta take s’more before I can sleep.” he warns her but Gigi just hums and keeps on kneading the back of his neck in a way that is liable to make him start drooling.

“When do we leave for the tour?” she asks, setting in and slinging her naked leg over his hip comfortably.

His heart skips a beat at her presumption. Then it plays catch up and bounds so hard he feels winded as he gasps, “September.”

“We’ve gotta get you better by then.” she mutters, “And you’ll have to help me with midterms, it’ll be crazy trying to pass long distance.” To herself Gigi ponders on whether she might have to push back school in order to be with her Daddy, the thought troubles her none because she’d fail it a million times in order to get more time with him. As long as he’ll have her and even then she knows she’d never be able to leave him as compliantly as Ginger had.

Elvis contemplates the fact she’s willing to risk college for him, that she depends on him for midterms and his belly tightens at the thought in anxious hope.

He turns on his other side, hoping for some relief from the belly ache. Without fail she follows and curls around him,seeking to understand he can’t take the heavy pressure of laying on it, and she is jetpacking on his back like a clingy koala, legs and arms woven around him until he’s half laying back on her.

“Baby Girl, I’m gonna smother ya.” he resists a little laugh as she has him in something close to a wrestling pose, legs wrapped around his hips from the back and arms over his belly, his back smashing her boobs.

She lets out a happy moan instead, “I want you to.” Gigi insists and sounds close to climax at the feel of his weight on top of her. She keeps her hold on him tight, content with feeling enveloped by him as droplets of water drip from his hair onto her chest.

Pretty lil weirdo.

“S’like a elephant layin’ on a junebug, we can’t sleep this way.” Elvis finds himself grinning at the comical image reflected in the mirrors above.

“But it’s all I’ve ever wanted.” she begs, “I’ve dreamed about this. Take your pills daddy’s and we’ll go to sleep now.”

Compliant in his bewilderment, Elvis props up and measures out his doses in his palm, swallowing them down dry before lying back, trying to aim for the mattress but Gigi wriggles beneath his bulk again and he prays he doesn’t get another lawsuit on his hands come morning for smothering the life out of a teen girl.

“Do you want a burger?” she asks softly in his ear, right as he starts to relax in her protective hold. He’s got his arms criss crossed across his body to hold her own as they hug him.

“Uh, umm, no -I-I-I’m -I’m sleepy.” he drawls, torn at the lovely idea of a burger after such a long evening but then again, his head is pillowed on boobs and Gigi’s fingers are swirling shapes in the hair on his belly under his shirt. He doesn’t really feel like ever leaving. She makes a better mattress than any amount of money could ever buy.

“Ok, honest?” she whispers in his ear and he smiles into his pillow at her childish earnestness.

He presents a wobbly pinky for her to witness his solemn oath and she happily hooks her littler one with his and they curl round each other, it feels like a promise of more than just midnight burgers. A promise of him helping with midterms and her never having another man in her life.

To his surprise, just as he starts to drift off, Elvis feels Gigi’s hand slither beneath the waistband of his silk pajamas. He thought she’d gotten the message he’s not up for it, the preliminary little snores from the sedatives underscoring his point, but all she does is cup his soft package in her palm, like it’s the most precious wobby in the world for her, and promptly starts snoring little snores herself.

Elvis tries to savor the feeling of her holding him through the night and as he slumbers, her voice manages to break through the fog of dreams talking about midterms to come, about his tour in September — with his surety in their future aided by the promise of their still clinging pinkies, sleep comes easier than it has in years.

I hope y’all enjoyed, thank you for reading and thank you for all the prompts that got us here! We are working on a prompt list because after his chapter we open it up to jumping around with prompts. But don’t feel like you’ve got to wait till then, go ahead and send in whatever you’d like and I’ll see what I can cook up! 🌷 xoxo

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged by commenting below:

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

@vintageshanny

@landmermaid12

@ashtag2887

@notstefaniepresley

@butlersluvbot

@steph-speaks

@eliseinmemphis

@lookingforrainbows

@dkayfixates

@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

@thatbanditqueen

@elvisabutler

@butlersxbirdy

@heartbrake-hotel

@fav-fanficssss

@austinbutlersbaby

@freudianslumber

@kxnnxy

@kingdomforapony

@be-my-ally

@crazymadpassionatelove

@that-hotdog

@missmaywemeetagain

@fallinlovewithurlove

@richardslady121

@lilycherries123

@18lkpeters

@xenaspace3-blog

@lil-mamas-obsessions

@father-of-2cats

@helen06dreamer

@returntopresley

@gonnagoandfangirl

@kelssssxd

@octobers-snow

@velvetelvis

@blursedblegh

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #big daddy #big daddy Elvis #big daddy Elvis fanfiction #baby elvis #elvis smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presely smut #Elvis #elvis x reader #elvis x you #70’s Elvis #70s elvis #army elvis #elvis and me #elvis and priscilla #Gigi

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Has anyone written a Marilyn Monroe x Elvis Presley AU?

Or has that universally been decided to be too disrespectful? I feel like it could be so soft and kind and lovely if done right in the reimagining. I am genuinely curious about y’all’s thoughts on this 🌸

Credit: to Pinterest (and yes before I get >helpfully< called out, these are quite obviously edited photographs, cheers)

#Elvis #baby elvis #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #marilyn monroe #Marilyn Monroe x Elvis #Marilyn Monroe fanfiction #norma jean baker #norma jeane mortenson #Norma Jean #blonde #poll #Elvis ask game #ask game #old hollywood #priscilla presley smut #priscilla movie #jacob elordi

[elvisabutler]

ally's wet hot smut summer

i would try and do this all fancy but i am not always the most graphically inclined. so this is basically kinktober but in the summer and stretched out over two months so i don't take on too much.

basically pick your day and pick your character/person and i will write it. if there is enough interest i will do four days that are double dips. now, day sixteen is a free day/free space where once the first 15 are filled, whoever wants that can go for it and pick the kink and if i'm okay writing it, i will. also within reason i might be able to work a kink into a specific verse as i did with my austin and dove/priscilla reader requests during kinktober.

only rule i'd like to make is one request per person- at least until this has been up for 24 hours. people who i write for are in the tags plus, and these four are mildly iffy so pick them at your own peril: wil ohmsford from shannara chronicles, hangman and rooster from top gun and mccoy from star trek ( i do err more to the kelvin timeline/aos/the karl urban portrayal as a warning, i'm also capable of writing not reader fic with him but idk all of y'alls taste because it's not the normal fandom y'all are used to. ) i'm also willing to attempt an elvis movie character or two so hey if you want to surprise me with a request for one of them i won't complain.

day one. cuckolding with steve x reader x elvis

day two. marking with sub wil ohmsford ( double dip: biker austin )

day three. mommy or daddy kink with selkie! elvis

day four. praise kink with austin butler

day five. degradation with austin butler

day six. titty fucking with rooster

day seven. uniform kink with army elvis

day eight. threesome/moresome with austin elvis x steve x reader ( double dip: elvis x jerry x reader x possibly sandy )

day nine. breeding kink with 70s elvis - specifically big daddy

day ten. knife or gun kink with big daddy elvis

day eleven. public play with big daddy elvis ( double dip: 50s/early 60s elvis )

day twelve. virginity/innocence kink with austin butler

day thirteen. period sex or breastfeeding kink with selkie elvis

day fourteen. housewife kink with spark universe elvis and lilly

day fifteen. religious kink/priest kink with '68 elvis

day sixteen. requester's choice with possession/possessive kink with 50s elvis ( double dip: threesome with movie based 60s elvis x priscilla x reader and facefucking with inexperience 50s elvis )

#austin butler #elvis presley #steve binder #olivia dejonge #priscilla presley #jerry schilling #elvis 2022 #sebastian kydd #austin butler elvis #why i'm posting this at 10:30 on a sunday night is beyond me. #also spoilers: had to stop myself from doing a professor kink option. #also elvis's movie characters are fair game i think but i'm not listing them all out. #ally writes #ally's wet hot smut summer

[angelinajoulie]

Here’s another small extract from my upcoming dom!Austin x shy!girlfriend!reader one shot.

➡️ read the entire work here!

18+ content below the cut MDNI.

"You're such a good little girl for me, you know this?" his voice gets deeper enough to make you feel soaked as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

"So submissive" he praises you in a whisper, his calloused digits moving to caress your cheek, allowing you to surrender to his touch by resting your head on his thigh.

“So responsive" the intense feeling of the cold gold of his rings hits your warm skin and your spine tingles.

His voice is so soft, yet so firm while he praises you that a weak moan leaves your parted lips, Austin taking advantage of it to shove two of his long fingers in your mouth.

You know what to do so you embrace them with no hesitation and start sucking, wrapping your lips and tongue around his knuckles as the metallic taste grows strong in your mouth.

"So greedy..."

You are a vision to him, you look so tempting that his hand falls on his crotch to palm himself, his growing erection begging to be freed from his slacks and swallowed up by your throat.

As I already said, English is not my first language so I’m currently translating this work (from ITA to ENG) and I can tell you that the warnings will include size kink, praise kink and some other very VERY filthy things. It will be a 5k words piece, should I post it in two parts???✨

I read all your previous requests for the tag list and I wanna thank you sooooo much for em😭😭😭 if you want to be added comment down here, I’ll add you as soon as the one shot will be posted💘

#austin butler #austin butler x y/n #austin butler elvis #austin butler x you #austin butler x priscilla actress reader #austin butler fluff #austin butler x reader #austin butler ff #austin butler smut #austin butler imagine #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis fluff #austin!elvis angst #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis x oc #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis film #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis presley #elvis movie #sebastian kydd #angst #smut #one shot

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Love another

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x reader x Oliva!Priscalla.

Warning: STEP-SISTER INCEST! Love triangle? Little reader, Sex tape, Creampie, Little space, Fluff, Fingering, mention of sex, Dirty talk, Pillow talk, Augst, Daddy and Mommy kink, Elvis kissing women, jealousy, Soft Dark Austin!Elvis, Soft Dark Oliva!Priscilla.

Summary: You were 11 when your mom married Priscilla Beaulieu's dad and Priscilla was 13 so when Priscilla meets Elvis at the age of 14 and you were 12 you sorta get a crush on him but you saw how your step sister was happy with him and saw how happy he was with her so you hid it away but over the years you hide a secret not knowing they already knew and multiple stuff happen starting with Elvis performing at one of his concerts at the international hotel ( @galaxygirl453 )

You strolled down the hall to Elvis's room where you and your sister were hanging out, A big grin stretched on your chubby cheeks, and holding drinks for all three of you, every step you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You still couldn't believe it, you got to hang out with your celebrity crush! You turned to walk through the open bedroom door but pause watching with a broken heart as the man you loved made out with your sister, tears threatening to spill, you run downstairs and pushed the drinks into a soldier's arms.

You cried the whole night and Priscilla being the wonderful sister tried everything to get you to tell her why but you refused to, determined to keep to yourself so after a while, she just give up. What you didn't know was that was only the first of many heartbreaks and tears along the way.

You cried on their first date, at their wedding, and when you realized you were in love with them both, you had cried so much that you would go into another headspace, one that longed to be held and loved, babied. You had some partners here and there but Priscilla nor Elvis ever approves of them.

Either one would scare your boyfriends away, or worse like when you were 16 and you lose your virginity to your boyfriend at the time Once Elvis and Priscilla caught you in the act Elvis almost beat the poor boy to death, and Cilla wouldn't help you until you promise not to bring a boy home, fearing for him and Elvis you agreed. It took a lot of pulling, Cilla threatening not to kiss him and you threatening to never talk to him ever again to get him off not without him shouting at the boy saying if he ever saw him around you again he'd finished the job.

Even now through their married, they were still protective of you. You shook your head and focused on Elvis as he sang 'love me tender' on the hotel's stage you could help but smile, his voice was like an angel but your smile turned into a frown as he suddenly jumped off the stage and kissed the women in the crowd. Your glaze switches to Priscilla, whose eyes were filled with sadness and hurt 'Oh hell Nah' you slid out of the circular Booth and stormed your way to Elvis "What the fuck Elvis?!" you yelled but before you could yell at him more his lips and tongue mets yours, his big warm hands hold your face, kissing you deeper.

It took everything in you not to kiss back and push him away "How..How dare you?" you glared at him "(Y/N)," He started however you didn't let him finish "Fuck you, Elvis Presley." you hissed in a low voice, eyes wet with tears and speed walked out the hotel ignoring both Cilla and Elvis, calling your name. You got into your car and drove to your apartment, you can't stop replaying the kiss for as long as you could remember you wanted nothing more than to be kissed by Elvis, and be loved by him, you had loved him since you were 12 but it was wrong, so wrong. You needed to time to think.

A week or so when things went downhill, you got fired for nothing and lost your apartment the next day. Without another place to go you called up Priscilla, with a bruised ego, asking if you could stay at Graceland with her and..Elvis although you didn't want to talk to him until you could get back on your feet. A team of movers arrived 10 minutes after the call and Jerry came to pick up you to drive you to Graceland where the couple waited by the door "(N/n)!" Priscilla smiled pulling you into a tight breathtaking hug, you return the hug with a fake smile plastered on your face.

"Darlin' look about what happened," "Hey Cilla I want to go see my room. Show me yeah?" you took your sister's hand and walked into her house leaving Elvis standing there, regretful and in pain watching the ground, he had to make it up to you. All day you and your sister caught up, she luckily didn't bring up what happened. You brushed your hair in front of your vanity and remove what little makeup you had on and dressed into your favorite baby doll. You happily sigh into the comfortable mattress and in no time you fell asleep.

Elvis sighed outside your closed door since he met you and Priscilla, he could see you like him at first he wasn't attracted to you in that way then you grow into a beautiful young woman he didn't realize he had fallen for you until he caught you giving your innocence to that cowardly son of bitch. He wanted to kill him hell he almost did and he wouldn't regret you were his, even if you didn't know it.

He felt so guilty for loving you Priscilla's little sister, of course, he still loved his wife but it became so overbearing, so much he breakdown to Cilla, imagine his surprise when she confessed she was in love with you as well. "we can do it, it's now or ever baby." his wife soft voice helped to relax him, Elvis hummed and nodded, with a deep inhale he opened the door and walked to your peacefully-sleeping form, "Darlin' wake up, let mommy and daddy show you how much we love you." Elvis cooed, moving your hair behind your shoulder "Dadda?" you moan, slowly opening your tired eyes," that's right it's dadda." Elvis smiled "Want dadda plewes." you begged, making grabby hands, He quickly took his robe off and flipped the blanket off of you "What do you want princess? Mm?" He kissed your neck as he towered above you his hard cock laid against your covered cunt, you whined and rolled your hips upwards "fuck me dadda." you pout, your eyes shined with frustrated tears, Elvis cursed under his breath, and yanked your underwear, freeing your rapidly wet pussy to the cruel-cold air, Elvis put two of his fingers into his mouth wetting them before sliding them in your tight-hot core, he set to work loosening you up to take his dick, his fingers curled as his thumb rubbed at your clit in a harsh speed, his fingers soon thrusted at the same speed.

Priscilla smiled as she watched behind the video camera at her love and sweetheart, Cilla could already feel herself getting wet but this wasn't about her it was bout you, and she didn't mind, she pressed recorded, Elvis and she is gonna enjoy replay this.

You whimpered cumming around Elvis's large fingers "that's it sugar, dirty daddy's fingers." he cooed with hood lust-filled eyes, his thrusts quicked almost slamming against your special spot as you finished, he was slow to pull out and sucked your juices off his digits, his dark orbs glazed into yours, smirking, his another hand stroked his leaking cock. "please, please! Fuck me!" you cried, pulling him closer, Elvis hissed as he slammed himself inside, his tip hitting your poor cervix. His strong hips rocked your shoulders against the bed as he stood up on the mattress and pulled your lower body up, his pounding moved into a new punishing angle.

His eyes rolled back, his arms around your thighs pulled at you to match his fierce hammering, moans, and fucks, goddamns leave Elvis, you weren't any better yelps and moans left you "Fu-So fucking right, gonna be my slutty princess huh? Let daddy use you whenever I want" his dull nails dig into your legs as he spreads them, his balls tightened at the pretty tight below him, your breasts bounce with each hard thrust, hair in beautiful waves, eyes hooded and look at him, lips fell in an o shape "your s-slutty princess dadda, Mark me please!" you jerked your hips, the invisible knot started to break "Goddamn, princess!" Elvis growled as he thrusted faster, his hot cum spraying into your walls and womb, pushing you over the edge with a blessed out scream.

You moaned, rolling to the edge and off the bed with a thud "Fuck! Ow" you barked getting off the hardwood floor and pausing when you felt something drip and pour down your sore legs "So h-he, that was real?" you stutter when the dots connected, you felt your face heat up, you had to find Elvis. You showered and changed into a white short dress, and started your journey to find Priscilla and Elvis. The endless doors made you feel like you were turning insane, you opened the last door upstairs, and the room was way different from the rest, a Circular pink bed sat in the middle, and toys, crayons, colored books, and plushies littered neatly around the white-wallpaper room. A big closet stocked with rows of pretty clothes that had colors of the pastel rainbow. You felt yourself slip "Ya like it princess? We had it made for Ya." Elvis whispered laying his ring-covered hands on your hips with Cilla on your right "Momma? Dadda?" "That's right! let's go color something honey?" Priscilla smiled taking your hand, and gently pulling you to the coloring table.

'Finally.' Elvis smiled putting his hands on his small waist watcing his lovers play together.

Taglist; @littlewierdalien @starwarsf1lms @galaxygirl453 @plasticfantasticl0ver @godlypresley

(@galaxygirl453 )

#elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis 2022 #austin elvis imagine #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere austin!elvis x reader #elvis and priscilla #elvis presley #tw:incest

[marvelobsessed134]

Love Me Tender Series Masterlist

Pairings: 60s!Rockstar!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight innocent!reader, smut, age gap (not specified), gender roles for the time period, mentions of drug use (coke), alcohol usage

A/n: This is pretty inspired by the Priscilla/Elvis movies so yeah Bucky and Reader are loosely based off of Elvis and Priscilla.

Summary/Synopsis: You are the daughter of a big time Hollywood executive and get dragged along to an event full of starlets, musicians, and Hollywood insiders. There you meet Bucky Barnes one of the most famous rockstars of the year.

Part one: the meeting

Part two: the first date

Part three: moving in

Part four: the wedding

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #rockstar!bucky x reader #marvel x reader #marvel au #marvel smut #60s au #elvis and priscilla #priscilla presley #elvis presley #Elvis #Elvis movie #vintage #Lana Del Rey