#that’s. not a big age gap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvrxbunny · 1 month

Text

homecoming ─ ★ joel miller x f! reader

a/n: i wrote this at like 3:30am 🦢

wc: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ MNDI, really light choking, dry humping, piv, some praise, oh and some hair pulling but i feel like joel miller smut = some hair pulling.. with me at least cus like.. THE CURLS (not proofread and much longer than intended)

okay so Joel coming back from a trip, maybe it wasn’t even super long, a week or so but nothing you guys haven’t weathered before.

but for some reason; maybe it’s been a long time since he was away from you for even a day.. Joel all but loses his mind without you.

it’s like he goes into heat or something. like his body knows that he can’t have you and suddenly its craving you 10x its usual amount.

he comes back late at night, near midnight. all the guys wanted to take shelter for the night, arrive at the community in the morning but Joel hadn’t mentally prepared himself for another night without you. he refused to go another night without you.

you’re snug in bed when he crawls in. you’re pulled from your sleep by the dip in the bed but you instantly recognize the broad chest pressing against your back.

you gasp and bury your hand in his hair as quickly as possible. you reach over his face as he gives your neck a kiss and presses closer to you, poking you in the back with a feeling you’ve missed.

“is this okay? i’ve missed you so much, love.” you only hum in response, arching your back so he can grind against the plush of your ass, an opportunity he graciously accepts. he groans low and rough into the back of your neck as he starts humping you. “we can stop if you’re sleepy, baby.. shit.” his arm comes to wrap around you.

his forearm stretches diagonally across your torso as he cups your blood with his palm, using you for leverage to grind himself more forcefully into your ass. “could- oh god.. mmm we could w-wait for— until the—”

“baby, shut up.” is all you mumble before twisting to finally devour his lips in a kiss that he whines into. whines

his frantic humping turns into purposeful grinding as you pull away. his breathing is more erratic than you’ve ever heard it. his eyes are shut as tightly as his hand is gripping your hip, surely leaving dents in your skin.

you turn back around to bury your face in the pillow in front of you, too uncomfortable with your body twisted but leaving your hand to play with his hair. “needed me this bad, baby?”

you try to sound teasing, dominant but instead the question comes out high and breathy, sounds as desperate as he’s acting.

all you get in response is a growl from Joel before his hand leaves your boob to flip your body around, letting you face him, letting you— for the first time— really take in his disheveled state.

his hair is mussed— definitely your doing, but his lips are red and bitten, presumably from holding in his sounds to not disturb the silence of the night. his eyes are blown wide, glinting with a crazed look as he grinds into you gently.

he has his hand on your thigh, your leg pulled over his hip do he can grind right into your core, sending convulsions throughout your body.

after taking him in you meet his eyes again and he crumbles. whimpering a loose form of your name before burying his face in your neck and inhaling your scent as his hand coming to your lower back to press your body into his.

“i’ve needed you more that air, dove. been craving your soft body, your- fuck- your sweet sounds.” his voice gets high near the end of the sentence, only reminding you of his need. “swear i’ve been seeing you in the stars at night. m’losin my goddamn mind over ya’.”

his desperation is leaking into your veins now, the same way you’ve started to seep into your underwear, growing tired and teased with Joel’s incessant movements against you.

you stay silent, let him release wet moans into your skin as you take matters into your own hands.

you grab his waist band and pull the buttons apart so roughly you may have broken them. you keep up your urgent demeanor as you free his cock from its confines.

his hips don’t stop moving as you fumble with his pants, he grinds against the air, your hands and your wrists, anything he can reach.

he moans your name when you wrap your hand around him but his breath is stolen as you quickly pull your panties aside and shove him in.

he’s surrounded in your wet warmth before he can take another breath. the same heat he’s been dreaming of, craving, fiending for over the course of the past week.

his head is finally pulled from your neck as he sits up a bit with his hand on your throat, his index finger and thumb holding your jaw in place as he forces you to look him in the eye.

his brows are furrowed and there’s a look of confusion and a softness that feels like begging in his eyes. you’re waiting for him to scold you, remind you who’s in charge, that you don’t do anything without his permission first. but instead he just pants against you, incapable of taking even breaths as his hips twitch softly and against his will into you.

you hold his eye contact as your hands come to the base of his spine, pressing down and curving his hips into you, guiding his slow and gentle thrusts.

his face crumples in pleasure, all his features scrunching in as he tries not to moan into your face. his hand twitches on your throat before tightening again as he leans down to press you against his forehead before resting his cheek on yours as he finally releases all the sounds he’s been holding in.

first you get a guttural groan, something that sounds like it came from the depths of his chest; low and rumbling. as his hips begin to move on their own accord, his moans change. they become more urgent, short and cut off as he tries to catch his breath. every now and then it sounds like the first syllable of your name but he’s never able to get the full thing out. “there you go, sweetheart. just like that.”

you try and stay composed as you guide him but he’s ramming into your g-spot like he’s been searching for it for weeks. your brain is turning to mush, melting out of your ears. when Joel pulls his face away from yours, wanting to examine your state, he can tell. he can tell that you’re not all there, that you’re holding on by a thread for him. it fills his chest with pride.

you watch a lazy smirk slide over his face as his hooded eyes meet yours. “it’s okay, baby.. m’here now.”

Joel lifts one of your legs, gripping your thigh and pushing it to meet your chest. “you don’t gotta be all tough anymore.” it feels as though he’s opened up a new channel inside your pussy, like he’s reaching places that weren’t accessible before. like he’s reached heaven, inside you. “you can let go, darlin’.”

you explode.

its that godforsaken southern drawl of his. whenever he talks to you in his low, smooth voice, like pouring warm honey right into your ear, filling your brain with sweetness. you have no choice but to fall apart. you hadn’t even been aware of how badly you’d been craving him.

you knew you missed him of course, but you thought you’d be satisfying yourself decently in his absence.

you obviously had forgotten when your orgasms feel like when they belong to Joel.

it feels like your body falls completely apart. you don’t feel attached your limbs anymore. all you can feel is the warmth blossoming violently in your abdomen. your thighs shake, and Joel tightens his grip, wanting to feel the rippling muscles under his palm.

he watches your brows furrow as your eyes roll back. you go limp in his arms, your entire body relaxed as your soak his cock in your juices.

Joel fucks into you at a leisurely pace, forgetting his desperation in favor of watching you melt into the bed. but as he thrusts he watches you slowly coat his cock, giving him a milky sheen, an award for his actions and a reminder of your own craving for him.

it’s more than a punch in the gut, it’s like he’s been completely winded, like someone has punctured his lungs and crushed his heart inside his chest.

he gasps once and sees your eyes snap open to his, waiting and watching as his body folds in on itself to fill you with its seed.

Joel almost falls on top of you, his arm catching him before he lowers himself into your lips. he’s too busy moaning your name and praises to kiss you properly. he rests his lips against yours as his mind clears, blank and thoughtless, finally satiated after a week of driving him crazy.

his body weight slowly increases as he blankets you, his cock pulsing inside you gently, gently pumping pent up ropes of cum into you despite the small amount already leaking onto your thighs.

“love you s’much.” Joel mumbles groggily into your ear. his hand comes up to stroke your head, soothing you as he notices your rapid heartbeat. “you’re my perfect girl, y’know that? everything i dream of, everything pure.” you feel that terrifying warmth spread through your chest, that intense, buzzing love that blooms in your chest whenever he opens his mouth.

“i know, joey.” your hand slides out of his hair and down his back, scratching gently and relishing in the way you feel his chest rumble with a contented hum. “i love you so much more, y’know that?”

he chuckles softly before biting you semi-gently. “no way.” he sighs against your skin. “ain’t possible.” he licks over his teeth marks before kissing them.

his lips just barely ghost over the area as he falls asleep, his cock warm and soaked inside you.

a horrid surprise for Tommy when he tries to welcome his brother home with a “gourmet” breakfast in bed service.

236 notes · View notes

h0unds-of-h3ll · 16 days

Text

Shades of cool

Instances where your best friends dad tried to seduce you.

Big daddy Elvis Presley x reader! Sexual situations.

Word count: 5k.

Warnings: As you read it’s your best friends dad seducing you. Major age gap. Naive reader. Kissing. Manipulation, gaslighting. Swearing. Obsession. He’s a cocaine user. Talk of male masturbation. Female masturabtion. Objectification. Sexy Polaroids. Sacrilegious. Detailed description of perversion at the end. Perverted E. All parties are legal!

A/n: “I wanted to try something a little different than I normally do. I wanted to write something a little darker. I also wanted to write something and this is what came out. Let me know if you like this version of my writing!”

Before the instances

It started, well, it was always in motion ever since he saw a little you with Lisa back in the late 60s. Nothing more than a lil ole schoolgirl. His friends talked about you like they did when he was with Priscilla all those years ago. It struck the same vein-alighted that same hunger. His micro aggressions towards you though, where he grew overtly affectionate and fond over you. Was the summer in 1985. He was older, much older, thirty-two years to be exact and you didn’t know why but his age never affected how you thought of him. If anything it drew you to him. He was older, more mature than the guys you’ve hung around. He was the father figure you needed whether you wanted to admit it or not. By God, Elvis was smart and he knew he’d never have a greater opportunity than now helping your own self, mature into a fine young (co-dependent) woman. You just had graduated high school the previous may with Lisa who was still a little younger than you. Since school let out you practically lived at Graceland. Much to her and her daddy’s satisfaction.

Graduation night

The first incident happened after graduation night. You were over at Graceland (shocker.) It was dinner, congratulations and gifts mostly from Elvis but others in his circle came and gave you a pat on your back as well. You were just excited to be done with it and to have done it with Lisa by your side. After the grand dinner everyone departed in their respective areas. You and Elvis however went outside in the darkness of night and sat by the kidney sized pool. Lisa wanted to take a nap so she could stay up later and so it resulted in just the two of you staring at the blue light that illuminated the chlorinated water. Elvis nursed a little Roi-Tan cigar. His infamous orange sunglasses still pressed against his chubby face. He puffed those cheeks with every draw of his cigarette. He uses it as a crutch. In his youth it was biting nails or the wiggling of a leg, now it’s just the burning inhale of tabcco. The two of you stared at the stars. He pointed some out lazily. Explaining their relationship to the other stars along with the spirituality behind them. He told you to pick any star your little heart desires and he’d buy it for you. You giggled at his playful jest but when you looked over to his face you saw no hint of humor. He was dead serious. So, you pointed to the biggest and brightest one there was. That one, you said. He chuckled darkly to himself. You’re gonna make me go bankrupt, pretty baby! Then he huffed on his cigar more with a hint of a grin, and your cheeks burned. The cigar embers burned his thick golden fingers. His other hand laid flat on his blue track suit covered thigh. He took his index and drew stars by his knee. You spread your denim daisy duke legs out and relaxed into the chair. Lifting your hips up, your shirt raises up your pretty hips. He stared without abandon. God cursed him. Elvis was nothing but a devoted Christian and God cursed him. How did God curse him? God cursed him by being infatuated with a teenage girl. Even worse, his daughter's best friend. No, it wasn’t God’s curse. It was the Devil's temptation. He can’t wrap his head around you being nothing but an angel. He often told you how your soul was the prettiest thing to him. Your soul is older than your body. He wished that you had grown up with him, met his mama and daddy. Gotten married and settled down with him. When he told you that you weren’t sure how to feel, should you feel grateful that in an alternative universe that you could’ve been Lisa’s mother instead of friend or that it might still happen in this reality if given the chance. You knew of his exs, Lisa told you about them. You knew of his player status of objectifying women and not taking no for an answer. Whatever he wanted he got it. He stopped officially being with women in ‘77 after his engagement had broken off. He doesn’t talk about it much. Sure, he still has girls hang off his wide arm on occasion but it’s nothing serious. It was like he was saving himself for something. Something to grow older. He takes a long draw, tilting his head up and the smoke billows out like a cloud into the sky. His soft jaw and lips puckering when he does. He stares at the side of your face through his shades. Admiring from afar. He leans over to the ashtray on the table beside him and stuffs the cigar in the marbel where his initials are. You watch as his tracksuit starts to rise and the soft pudgy skin of his back starts to emerge. You treasured all the times you got to see his skin. He never showed it off like he did when he was younger. The only time you were blessed was when he wore normal shirts or felt a little scandalous by unzipping the jacket to his sternum, making sure to not show his round belly. You nibbled on your lip and cut your eyes to the North Star, making sure that he didn’t see your wandering eyes. It's silent as he huffs to turn around. He looks at your face again. Nothing but a little ole baby in a woman’s body. That- that very dangerous thought is what spurs him on.

“Are you a virgin?”

You choke, eyes wide, mouth dry. You can’t look at him and your body is stiff and straight. Begging the North Star for guidance.

“W-what?”

He chuckles. The wrinkles on his face deepening as he smiles.

“Ya heard me lil darlin’.”

You nod and blink slowly, trying to find a way to divert the conversation.

“Why do you ask?”

His wide shoulders shrug and he pushes the bridge of his sunglasses down, you see the bloodshot veins in his eyes.

“Sometimes when I see you around my friends’ boys you don’t care ‘bout ‘em, like yisa does,”

He pauses. His hand on his thigh moves to his face and he scratches his chin and rests his face in his palm. His elbow on the armrest of the lawn chair.

“Ya couldn’t be more bored in ‘em.”

His fat tongue swipes over his plump lip. His eyes flick across your face, baiting you for a reaction.

“But when your ’round me you act like you’ve never been ‘round ‘nother man in your entire yittle life.”

Movie night

Elvis rented out a theater in Memphis near Graceland to watch The Way of All Flesh his favorite movie. Often he would do this. It didn’t matter how many times he saw it or forced you and Lisa to, he’d visit it again. Lisa complained about not watching something different like the goonies or the breakfast club, and you were just happy to be there. He didn’t care about Lisa’s cries of protest and change. He liked his 1927 black and white movie, he wouldn’t hear anything else about it but praise. He sat between you and Lisa in the back below the projector as it ran. He had his arm around Lisa’s shoulders, hugging her to his own. She yawned watching the banker find his life flipped upside down. As for you? He had his fat palm on the inside of your bare thigh. The warmth blistered your skin. The rings were heavy on your soft skin. His orange sunglasses were tucked into his white tracksuit zipper. You didn’t watch the movie as his hand danced along the inside of your thigh. You watched his broad face. Your lips pouted as you wondered what his game was. What was he trying to do? He wasn’t trying to do anything which resulted in you over analyzing the situation which ultimately is what he wanted. He wanted to get inside your little head. Wanted you to think of him. Obsess over him. You trail your eyes over the dips and curves of his plump aged face. His blue eyes catch your own and the gaze is held between you for a few minutes. He doesn’t speak a word and all you do is breathe. His hand doesn’t move and the unspoken power is acknowledged, along with his shit eating grin.

The kiss

You hadn’t visited in two weeks. You called Lisa and told her work had gotten in the way of your visits and she understood. She tried to emphasize that to Elvis but he didn’t care. You were being a ghost and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He’s been so gracious to you, so loving and you decide to abandon his family? He was going to lose his mind. He became short with everyone, the mafia, the maids, even being short with Lisa. He was a grumpy old man. While you were at work your parents had paged you at least a hundred times over. You were confused, exhausted, and frustrated. All you wanted was to lay down and get some sleep. You went to the bathroom and read the slow news.

“Urgent...”

“Elvis…blowing..up..phone..”

“Hurry..home…”

You sighed. When you did get home, you asked about whats wrong with Elvis and your parents told you that he’d rather talk to you in person. You nodded and packed an over night bag, ate dinner with your parents and bid them goodbye before getting in the cherry red Audi Coupe GT Elvis had gotten you and drove to Graceland.

It was dark and hot in the summer heat when you arrived at the gates. You didn’t have to mutter your name to the guard since you’ve visited so often. You pull up in front of the white stairs and your stomach drops. Anxiety flashes over you. What if he’s mad? What if he prohibits you from ever seeing Lisa again? Ever seeing him again? You breathe cautiously. Turning the car off and grabbing the duffel bag you packed and walking to the door. Before you raised your closed fist to knock the door swings open. You hear Lisa watching tv in the living room. It’s Growing Pains. He’s wearing a black tracksuit and his sunglasses are a baby blue like his eyes when they’re not bloodshot. He holds the door open with one of his hands and just stands in front of you like a wall. He’s staring at you. Eyes glossy. One of his nostrils dusted white. You open your mouth to apologize but before you could utter a word he takes the sides of your face in his hands and places his lips onto yours. He cranes his head down and tilts your face up. His gut pushing against your stomach. Your eyes are wide and you drop both your keys and the bag outside Graceland’s door. His lips are so much softer than you anticipated. His rings catch on your hair, but the slight pull burns into your stomach and makes your heart beat faster. He doesn’t press his tongue into your mouth, the pressure of his lips is enough to drive you into a frenzy. You can’t. When he finally does move away, it’s slow and staggered. His eyes are closed and his breathing is unsteady. He’s winded from kissing. He sweeps his thumbs over the bones on both side of your cheeks. Watching the burning sun in your eyes. You open and close your mouth like a fish. He just smiles lopsidedly, his smile lines and crows feet deepening. He presses a chaste kiss onto your lips.

“Don’t tell yisa.”

His lips brushes against yours as he speaks before pulling himself away completely. He crouches with a moan to your feet and picks up your keys and bag and walks up the foyer. You stand there puzzled, and sexually frustrated.

The picture

It was a blistering hot day in June. Elvis hosted a barbecue for his family and friends. For no particular reason other than to reminisce about the old days of his career. He’s been out of the performing business since ‘77 and now just produces his own recording company, giving kids like him a shot at making music. He wore a red tracksuit, with golden sunglasses. (One of those special occasions where he had the zipper down his sternum.) He didn’t go outside much that day since it was so hot, so he stayed inside Graceland with some of the older musicians and family who didn’t care to be outside either. He stayed by the window that looked the pool though. Watching you sunbathe and Lisa talk to some boys while swimming. Little kids ran throughout his property with water guns and balloons. Some of his colleagues tried to talk to him, he’d just mumble mhm. Never leaving the sight of you in a swimsuit top and a little denim skirt with bare feet. A boy came over to you, trying to talk and you didn’t care. Mumbling mhms. Priscilla visited and tried to talk to him about Lisa and doing things as a family and he didn’t care.

At 5, nearly sundown everyone gathered outside with three picnic tables pushed together as dinner was served. Crickets crowed and frogs croaked. He didn’t get a say who sat by him on the arrangement, he’d rather have you and Lisa sitting next to him than just Priscilla. They prayed before eating and he prayed that God would stop this little crush he had on you. He looked up from his bowed head and saw your breasts pushed together in that stringy bra and bowed his head to pray harder.

“Amen.”

The dinner was good and prestigious. He made jokes and smirked small, laughing mostly at Charlie’s jokes. Priscilla’s little hand was on top of his thigh and he couldn’t care, he watched you eat a hot dog like no other. His burger was a bit charred which was fine, but he only took a couple bites before retiring it. He watched you and Lisa whisper and giggle over some boys Lisa stared at. Droplets. Nothing more than a couple drops of ketchup fell on your bare chest and he felt himself throb. The tracksuit tightening around his burly thighs. He sips on his canned Pepsi. You don’t notice the smeared ketchup on your breasts as you move to look around and talk. Priscilla looked to her side as she talked with some older married woman about life. Priscilla’s hand cupped the side of his cock and he jumped. Letting go of his can of Pepsi.

“Jesus!”

He cut his eyes over to Priscilla and she took her hand off of his thigh and he groaned. He crouched down onto the grass below the table. Looking for the can. He pauses like a kid finding cookies. Finding snatch. His heart hammers and he adjusts his growing bulge. He pushes his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to the bulbous tip to fully look at the situation. His mouth nearly dripping with drool.

“No pannies.”

His thick drawl comes out as he whispers the revelation to himself. You spread your legs out wider and his breath stops. Hairless. Glistening. Untouched. He nearly sticks his wide tongue out to lap a fat stripe down and up your wet cunt. He wonders who did this to little miss darlin’? How’d her little pussy get so wet on his bench? How’d just looking at it gets him higher than any Miami coke. Then his heart strikes out. He sees Lisa’s head pop out on the other side of the bench a concerned look written across his face.

“D’you need help getting up, daddy? I know how bad your back is!”

He chokes and snatches up the can. He pushes up his sunglasses and sitting upright and the small of his back begins to ache. He looks at you and you smile dumbly.

“‘M fine.”

Priscilla looks at him then back at the soda can he threw on the table with a scoff. He sighs asking God for a blessing.

“Picture time, y’all!”

He stands in the back with more of the taller men and ladies were. He morphed into the back, not caring to be seen. Priscilla stood up front as well as Lisa. You stood in front of Elvis and he took your hips in his meaty hands. You jumped before realizing who it was. He whispered a husky. Jus’ me, pretty baby. He rested his chin on the top of your messy hair. He pressed his front up to your back and you raised on your tiptoes and he nearly came. The pressure of your firm ass pressing against the tucked head of his dick was enough for his eyes to roll back in his head. He needed to get one of his sleeping pills after. The rush of coke and the adrenaline of sex is too much to bear. He’s sweating bullets. You smile wide at the announce of cheese. Slapping his squeezing hands on the sides of your hips.

“Say cheese, big daddy.”

He smirks a little and swivels his hips so his hard on is pressed right up against the cheeks of your ass. For the first time in months he smiles to the point where his wrinkles are creased and he looks young, taking pictures in front of Graceland.

“Cheese.”

Fast food

It was a lazy Sunday after church. Elvis didn’t want to wait until he got to Graceland to eat so he took Lisa and you out to eat at McDonalds. He was starting to get a headache from only doing a milligram of coke before church. He asked before getting to the intercom what each of you wanted before Lisa and you decided to share an order and get a couple of large Coke’s. The only time he wore anything other than a tracksuit was to church and his recording company’s meetings. It was a simple black suit with no tie and a few of the buttons at the top unbuttoned. He was sweating profusely with the skin tight fabric. He thought he’d be able to fit in the old suit. It hadn’t been since a couple weeks since he last put it on. He was going to have to get on those weight loss pills again. He sighed and order a couple McDLT’s with no onions, no mayonnaise, mustard, or ketchup and a large Pepsi. He was content with not having to deal with being asked for autographs or pictures anymore. Occasionally there’d be the oddball who’d recognize him and asked for a memento and he’d graciously give it to them. He doesn’t miss the constant paranoia of who knows him and who watches. He listens to the conversation between the two of you talking about musicians and media. Lisa talks about Madonna and you talk about how Cher is still relevant. He pays and pulls up to the next window. It’s another twenty minute wait. He looks up through the rearview mirror through his black shades, watching you gush over Cass Elliott. Admiring the way you talk with your hands and the sheer white sundress you’re wearing. How Lisa matches your enthusiasm. The young clerk finally hands the food over and he leaves in the passenger seat as he drives to a nearby parking lot that oversees the traffic. He often liked sitting and watching the people and making up stories for them. Where they’ve been and where they’re going. He pulls to a stop and the chattering stops. He looks back and sees two sets of grabby hands luring him to give food away. He smirks softly and grabs the tray of large drinks and hands it to you. The banter continues as Lisa shoves your shoulder and you dump the drinks onto his lap. He freezes.

“F-fuck!”

Posture straight, hands up, shaking. It’s deathly quiet, not a word spoken. You’ve only seen Elvis angry a handful of times. Him pissed was a different situation entirely. Both you and Lisa utter apologies without abandon. He starts picking off the huge ice cubes and as he does you lean over the arm rest and start wiping off the Coke and ice off his fat thighs into the floorboards. His paunchy stomach tightening as you brush over his flaccid (hardening) cock. He watches your bare tits hang loose in your sundress. The perky nipples coming through. He thanked God for the no bras movement and watched you lazily hang onto his thigh. You smile like a bimbo when you’re done and rifle through the bag for napkins and press them down onto his soaked lap. After you felt like you did all you could do you leaned back and kissed his aged cheek. He apologized for getting angry and swearing. He went through the paper bag and handed out food. While unwrapping his first burger, his face scrunches and he throws the burger on the passenger window. He whips the car into the reverse and spurs out of the parking lot. As you look to the window you see onions, mayonnaise, mustard, and ketchup splattered on the window.

Pool Side View

He sat in one of the lawn chairs in a his DEA tracksuit, white bucket hat, and golden sunglasses. He was coked out and barely functioning. July was one of his busiest months and he couldn’t keep up with it all. He’s trying to read one of his spiritual books while smoking one of his cigars. He kept a prying eye on you and Lisa swimming in the pool. You had left for a couple days, to get some clothes which he resented. He simply would’ve bought you more. You had your own room at Graceland for fuck’s sake. He made you quit your job after the instance where you ghosted him. He never wanted you to leave. The swimming suit was big on you. He had bought you a swimsuit that was two pieces and a little big on you since he didn’t know your exact size. You guessed he did it on purpose. Lisa proposed for you to wear one of hers but she was a little skinner than you so you politely declined. Lisa and you were performing ungraceful water aerobics. Going underwater and kicking your feet up in the air and kicking them. Both of you kept chirping at Elvis to watch you perform. However one of the times you went under and came back up, your top had untied. You didn’t realize it until Lisa told you with a giggle. You were mortified, your mouth dropped open as you grabbed the floating article of clothing. You looked at Elvis and his sunglasses were perched lower as his strung out eyes watched you like a hawk. He couldn’t figure out if the coke was bad and he was having a hallucination or if what he did see was real. Did he see dirty little pillows with pretty nipples or did he dream that? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t question it. The stream of smoke by his head and he puffs. Taking his book back into his palm as Lisa ties your top back on. He pushes his palm over the base of his dick trying to push the blood elsewhere. I like that trick, do it again. He smiles to himself at the cynical joke. If only it wasn’t just a joke.

Polaroids

More than once Lisa reassured you that her dad wasn’t a creep, he was just overly sentimental and affectionate. It was just southern hospitality she reiterated over and over. It was late at night and Lisa and you were in your nightgowns in the living room, wrestling and laughing loudly. Watching Saturday night wrestling and reenacting some of the positions. Some nights you both would sleep in the living room to scare the maids when they first come out to work. The tv was the only light on, other than Elvis’s lamp light that he used to read one of his spirituality books. He was in his satin emblem pajamas. He wore reading glasses with the chain necklace around them. Every now and again Lisa and you would ask him to watch and you’d accidentally flash him. He’d blush and his stomach would start to stir. The thing that made him get his Polaroid camera was when you straddled a pillow between your little thighs and started to hump it. Intentionally or not, he didn’t care. He went into his room, grabbed his wallet where he kept the film in and the camera itself and went back into the living room. You were laid diagonal on the couch, your nightgown off and just in little cotton white with pink bows on them bra and panty. Your head was hanging off the couch and your legs were kicked up on the headboard. He got on his knees in front of your face and you smiled. The click and motor of the camera blinded you momentarily before he asked you to model which you replied attentively to. He asked you to pose in various positions. Running his fingers and palms over your body to smooth out the rigidness of your body. You watched Lisa stare into the tv, ignoring the photoshoot happening behind her. You wondered if this was appropriate and you remembered what she said about southern hospitality. He made you sit on his lap where you can feel the pressure of his bulge up against your clothed pussy. He lightly cupped the front of your throat and pushed your head back into his shoulder and your back pressed up against his chest. You feel his glasses pinch at your back. His rings biting into your neck. He raises the camera in front of your faces and it clicks. His lips brush over the shell of your ear as his voice drops to an octave lower. The tone where he used to sing.

“Wancha ta hump me like you did the piller little miss.”

You look at the back of Lisa’s blonde head. Your body is scorching hot. Your clit throbbing as his dick bobs with every buck of your hips. You move quicker, more desperate. Click. The Polaroid falls to his feet. You feel his stomach bounce with every gyrate. Click. If he could he’d hump back up into your wet little snatch. But his poor achy old back isn’t used to his 20yr old libido. The 50yr old man’s body isn’t adept to pleasing a pretty young 18yr old, but in this moment. The moment where your panties are soaked and catching on the outside of his pajamas pants, he thinks it doesn’t matter. Lisa shouts if you saw that move and you choke out a yes. Whether it was to Elvis’ fat fingers constricting your airways or the fact the friction is going to make you cum. Click. Your body starts to shake and pulse and he pulls you back to his chest. His thick stomach pushing into your back as he holds his palm over your mouth.

“Don’t say a word.”

He places the camera on the seat beside this thigh, running that hand flat over your stomach and to the hem of your panties. He plays with it. Running the fabric in his palm. Closing his fist and letting his gold rings run over it. He sticks his hand flat and into your panties. His palm flat on your mound, his middle and ring fingers play with your throbbing clit. The sight is ungodly. His big hand between your legs causing your panties to stretch out on your thighs. He whispers pretty words into your ear as he huffs. Your body spasms and shakes. Your cunt tightening over nothing as you cum. He pats your clit a couple times before removing his hand and wiping it on the your stomach by your belly button. He turns your head to the side and presses his lips to the side of your head. He pulls you off of his lap, picking up his camera and the fallen Polaroids up. He walks up into his room to finish what he started.

A couple days later you and Lisa decided to go to the mall to find some WWE shirts for an upcoming show. You told Elvis about the event and how you needed some money as he ate a peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwich. He nodded as he read the news, only half listening. Telling you to make sure that you have a driver and couple of the mafia guys to escort you and that his wallet was in his room. You giddily kissed his cheek and he smiled softly. You bounded up the stairs and into his room, finding his wallet where it normally was on his dresser. You opened it and as you pulled out a wad of one hundreds you gasped. The Polaroid of you on his lap fell out as well as pictures of him, Lisa and you at the aquarium. You grabbed at least a grand and shoved the Polaroids back in where you found it. Going to Lisa’s room and announcing that their allowance came early. Southern hospitality, you reminded yourself.

The letter

It was Sunday afternoon once again. Sometimes Elvis would get in this religious frenzy that church couldn’t even soothe. You and Lisa sat in front of his feet as he sat on the couch preaching. He had gotten to this one verse that he couldn’t seem to remember which was strange because he could remember a book start to finish as soon as he was done reading it. You watched as his bare bloodshot eyes wandered everywhere, searching for his words. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s disappointed in himself. He’s not as good of a Christian as he wants to be. He reaches down and holds your hand, staring into your eyes with such a softness that not even a cult member could obtain.

“Would you be a doll and get my Bible from my nightstand by my bed?”

You nodded eagerly and with an of course. He kissed the back of your hand as you stood up and walked to the stairs. He resumed his preaching to a different sermon to Lisa while you found his Bible. You walked into his room as you have a thousand times before and looked in his nightstand. Religious books and notes, medications. His coke. Nothing about the Holy book. You looked at the bottom drawer and you found it. Saying to yourself a little aha. However when you picked it up you found an envelope addressed to you. Your eyebrows were furrowed as you placed the book on his bed and picked up the letter. You had a moral confliction within yourself whether to open it or not. You finally decided to when you realized that he must’ve wanted you to read it eventually, right? You tore open the top of the envelope and took out the orange paper that he used for his notes and began to read.

“Dear little miss darlin’

“I don’t even know where to begin. I can’t even hardly see with how much I’ve sniffed. My hands are shaky and I’m nervous honey. For the first time in twenty years I’m nervous. I’m nervous about our encounters and if little yisa would find out. God, please don’t let her find out. I love you both too much for that to happen. I’m perverted and vile. I’m too far gone to be saved, I realize this now. I’ve prayed to God countless nights on my knees for him to fix it. To make me see you as nothing as my daughter’s friend, but pretty baby. Every time I look at you, or think about you, those sinful feelings start bubbling from my stomach and I can’t help them. I ain’t a strong man. I wish I could be so I can stop torturing myself with the thought of you. The thought of burying myself inside you and never leaving. Every woman I’ve been with, every woman I’ve fucked. I thought of you. I can’t get there anymore without thinking about you. I need help yittle one. I need your help. I need you to drain me so I can be whole again. I need you, I need you, I need you. God help me.”

“To be carnally minded is death; But to be spiritually minded is life and peace.”

His voice jolts you. He stands at the foot of the bed. He looks like a kicked dog. He’s ashamed.

“Romans 8:6, that is the verse I couldn’t remember.”

He shakes his head. Chuckling lightly, he runs a hand through his messy dark hair. You stare at him. Glancing back and forth at the letter and him.

“When did you write this?”

“After the Polaroid instance.”

You nod, speechless. Tormented. You want to be with him. You love him, but you know it’d never work. It’d have to be a secret for eternity. A secret that’s going to tear both of you from the inside out.

“So what are we?”

You ask shakily, dreading the answer. His face is grim and his eyes are glassy.

“Star-crossed lovers.”

#xreader #fanfic #smut #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader smut #dark smut #dark Elvis #elvis x reader #elvis smut #70s elvis #80s #80s Elvis #dark themes #big age gap #big daddy elvis

221 notes · View notes