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sissylittlefeather · 10 days ago

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True Love Travels on a Gravel Road

Chapter 2

A/N: I may or may not be working on a x reader series to post concurrently with this one, but in the meantime, have chapter 2! I know we're all on the edge of our seats to see what happens between Elvis and Leona!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, cussing, drinking alcohol, she slaps him

Word count: 2.8k

Elvis is back in New York for the Ed Sullivan show in September. Unlike his performance in July, he actually enjoys himself and puts on a good show, even if they do only film him from the waist up. He makes his way backstage to the press area with the singular aim of finding Leona. That article has haunted him for far too long, and he needs to know why she wrote it, needs to hear it from her own lips.

He scans the room quickly, but doesn't see her on his first sweep. After answering a few questions from other publications, he stops and asks if there's anyone there from the Starlite Press. The crowd parts, and a shy little blonde thing in a light yellow dress raises her hand.

“You're from the Starlite Press?” She nods.

“Yes, sir. Is that okay?” His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach, but he tries to slap on a plastic smile.

“Of course, honey.” She relaxes a bit and giggles obnoxiously.

“I promise to be a little nicer than the last article we published about you.” A hush falls on the room. Everyone read the scathing indictment that Leona wrote, and the air buzzes with awkward anticipation.

“That'd be good, doll. Thank you.” He looks around at the rest of the crowd and smiles again. “Now, who has questions?”

Outwardly, he's as cool as a cucumber, but his insides are burning. Where is she?

******

Leona is in the bath with candles lit and a cigarette in her hand, trying to do anything but think about Elvis. She takes a sip of her red wine and sighs deeply. Tonight is one of those nights when she wishes she hadn't written that stupid article. Since then, her editor has been on her to write about him again because it sold so well, but she refused. She wrote it out of anger and hurt and a healthy dose of fear. That's not a feeling she's hoping to replicate.

That's why she told her boss to eat shit when he demanded she go to interview Elvis tonight as he recorded his performance on the Ed Sullivan show. She made him send the new girl instead and headed home to try to get him off her mind. It's not working, though, and she drains her glass of wine with a huff.

She's leaned over the side of the tub, pouring herself a refil,l when there's a knock on her door. Her heart jumps, but she tells herself there's no way it's him. He probably doesn't even remember where she lives, and even if he does, he doesn't want to see her. Not after what she wrote. Just when she thinks whoever it is has given up and gone away, there's another knock, louder this time.

“Leona!” She freezes. There's no mistaking that voice. But what is he doing here?

She slips out of the bath and quickly dries off, pulling her robe on and blowing out the candles. When she finally gets to the door, she takes a deep, steadying breath and then opens it.

For a second, he just stands in the doorway, silent and breathless. He hoped he might be immune to her this time, but he absolutely isn't. Her eyeliner is a little smudged, and her cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and the heat of the bath. It takes everything inside him not to just sweep her into his arms right then and there.

“What are you doing here, Presley?” Her voice is sharp, and it's clear she has her defenses up.

“‘Hillbilly cat? More like hillbilly puppy.’” He quotes the article, spitting it at her like acid. “What the fuck, Leona?”

She sighs and walks away from the door, letting him follow her inside. “I had a job to do.”

“Bullshit. That wasn't about doing a job.” She's faced away from him, emptying the bottle of wine into her glass.

“I don't know what you want from me.”

“I want to know why!” She closes her eyes and takes a big gulp of her drink. He raises his voice even louder. “Damn it, Le, look at me!”

She still refuses to turn around. “You knew I was a journalist. This is as much your fault–”

“THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT AND YOU KNOW IT.” He's yelling now. “GODDAMNIT, TURN AROUND AND LOOK ME IN THE EYE. LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME YOU MEANT WHAT YOU SAID.”

She looks at the ceiling to try to keep the tears from sliding down her face. They burn the corners of her eyes.

“TELL ME THERE’S NOTHING BETWEEN US. TELL ME YOU FORGOT ME. TELL ME YOU DON’T–”

“I can't!” She finally rounds on him, her eyes on fire with everything she's not saying. “Damn it, Elvis, I can't!”

“Then I want to know why. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me why you did it.”

She walks up close to him, shaking her head. “No.”

“No?” He looks down at her with his nostrils flared, rage burning in his veins.

“In case you haven't noticed, I don't do well with being told what to do.”

“And I don't do well with being called a ‘sorry excuse for a gentleman’! Why, Leona?!” She scoffs and turns to walk away from him, but he grabs her arm to drag her back. Instinct takes over, and in a flash, she whips around and slaps him hard across the face. He stumbles back a step and raises his hand to his cheek. When he speaks, his voice is frighteningly soft. “I have done nothing to you. What the fuck is your problem?”

Leona stands with her chest heaving, her robe open to her waist. They stare at each other in heated silence, and the air crackles between them.

And then they slam into each other like two runaway trains bound for hell.

His lips crash into hers with a force that is matched only by the power of her tongue in his mouth. She tears at his shirt, ripping it off of him as buttons fly around the room. He has her robe off and thrown in a corner in seconds, pushing her back up against the wall and pinning her hands above her head. She moans loudly as he mixes kisses with bites on her neck and collarbone. His hand slides roughly to her center and he makes hard circles on her clit before pushing two fingers up into her wet heat.

“You're mine, Leona.” She yanks her hands down and shoves him backwards with both palms on his chest.

“I don't belong to anyone.” She keeps pushing him back until he falls onto the bed. Her hands rips his pants open and she pulls them down and off, his rock-hard cock bouncing free. She licks the tip of it aggressively and then arranges herself with a knee on either side of his hips. “If anything, you're mine.”

He grunts as she sinks down onto him, taking him in fully, slamming her hips into his. “Fuck, Le.”

She moans and whimpers as she rides him hard, but he doesn't let her win for long. His hand slides to her lower back, and he flips her quickly without pulling out, dropping her back onto the bed and pounding her with every ounce of anger he's held onto since the article came out.

“Tell me why, Leona.”

“I can't.”

“Look me in the eye right now and tell me why you felt the need to hurt me like that. What did I do to deserve–”

“I was scared!” He freezes and then looks down at her, his mouth open in shock. Of all the things she could have said, he didn't expect that.

“Scared?” And then she can't keep the tears in any longer. They slide down into her hair, hot and uninhibited.

“Yes!! You ripped me wide open and made me feel things I've never felt before. I was raw and exposed, and you were just gone.”

“You made me leave!”

“I know! And I just– I just– oh god, Elvis!” He slips out of her and rolls onto his side, pulling her into his arms as she cries against his chest.

“Shh. Baby, it's okay. I'm right here.” She lets him stroke her hair and kiss her forehead as the sobs come tearing out of her. He holds her close and breathes deeply, trying to help her regulate. It slowly begins to work, and she's able to calm down enough to look up at him.

“I'm so, so sorry.” He nods and wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I know, honey.” She sighs deeply as he kisses her forehead and nose and both sides of her face. He pulls back and looks her in the eye. “I forgive you. Okay? It's forgotten.”

She nods and kisses him softly. Then, he rolls onto his back and pulls her on top of him to straddle his hips. He reaches up to hold the side of her neck, fingers tangled in her hair.

“I’m yours if you want me, Le. And I know you're scared. I am, too. Let's be scared together.”

She sniffles and gives him a soft smile. “Together.”

“Together.” He muffles a moan as she sinks onto him again, rolling her hips to push him deeper. His hands go to her hips, but he lets her take the lead. “Fuck, Leona, you feel so good, baby.”

She rides him like this, slow and deep, the energy building between them, until it feels like they could both die, it's so good. Elvis starts to lift his hips to meet hers, and they pick up speed, both of them panting and groaning, sweat forming on their foreheads and chests. She feels her orgasm start to gather in her belly and throws her head back as the pleasure reaches a fever pitch. Elvis is so lost in her, lost in the overwhelming satisfaction of loving her, that he forgets himself and they fall, sailing over the edge into oblivion. They shudder and pulse and quake, and he empties himself deep inside her while she throbs around him. She collapses onto his chest, and for a moment, there is only shared ecstasy.

And then she sits up, and he inhales sharply. “Fuck.”

She looks down at him, her mouth open in shock. “You just–”

“I know.” They stare at each other in stunned disbelief. And then he whispers. “I don't really care.”

She laughs and lays back down on his chest. He makes lazy circles on her back with his fingertips, basking in the afterglow. She sighs contentedly. “I don't either.”

“Come to Memphis.” She sits up again.

“What?”

“Come home with me. Please.” Her eyes search his, but all she finds is sincerity.

“I can't.”

“Why not?” He reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I have a life here, El.” And I'm not ready for this. She doesn't have to say it for him to know.

“Someday, then. Just think about it.” She nods and then settles into his side, her hand on his chest.

“I will.”

******

Elvis stays with Leona until the last possible second, and the rest of the time is spent in the kind of softness that only comes with early love. They talk and laugh and share things they haven't said out loud to other people. They make love two more times before he leaves around noon the next day. He's exhausted, having only slept for a couple of hours after she fell asleep, and he watched her breathing quietly, his heart full to bursting. But when he returns to his life, he's permanently changed. She's a part of him, stitched into his soul, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

******

When he comes back in October, it's like they were never apart. She actually squeals when she opens the door to him in a suit, leaning against the frame like he's coming home after a long day at work. This time she cooks for him, her Nonna’s recipe for meatballs, and he imagines her in a white dress. They make love as many times as they can stand, and he never pulls out. They know it's a risk, but they're both secretly hoping for something to force their hand. But again, she turns down his request for her to come with him when he leaves. He kisses her cheek and whispers. “I'll be waiting.”

And he does. He goes out with other girls, but none of them come close to what he feels when he's with Leona. She'll change her mind eventually, and they'll have the future he imagines in the midnight hours when he can't sleep.

The first time he gets a letter sealed with a red lip-print kiss, he's almost giddy. He tears it open and reads it, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Hi El,

Miss me yet? Burnt some bacon the other day, and I couldn't help but think of you. Wish you were here right now. It's raining and I think you'd enjoy the view from my apartment. Something about the city being wet and sparkling makes me lonely. Come back soon, yeah?

Yours,

The first time he calls her, they're on the phone for 4 straight hours. And in between calls, there are letters. Sometimes they're short and sweet, sometimes they're long and deep, and occasionally they're dirty and filled with lines that would make any good girl blush. Leona doesn't.

Somewhere around November, they're arguing on the phone, and he can't hold the words in any longer.

“I love you, you stubborn little woman!” He half-yells it at her. She laughs, the argument forgotten.

“Well, I love you too, crazy man.” They never stop saying it.

In January of 1957, he's back in New York for another appearance on Ed Sullivan. By now, he's too famous for regular places, but the seedy Italian places Leona frequents are used to dangerous men. Elvis Presley is nothing to them, and he loves it. He tells her all about his plans to buy a new house and the movies he's scheduled to make. She listens and sips her Manhattan, trying not to get distracted by his lips. This time, he's carved out two days to spend with her, and they're in bed for most of it.

At one point, they fight over the fact that he asks her to marry him. They yell and scream, and she throws a shoe at him, but it doesn't take long for them to end up pressed together, naked and tumbling. The ring that he bought sits forgotten on her nightstand.

The second he's gone, she slips it onto her finger and cries. Why can't she just say yes?

Instead, she puts it on a chain and wears it every day, sitting just over her heart. Someday she'll be ready to settle down. She prays he can wait that long.

The letters and phone calls continue, and always she turns down his offers to move to Memphis, even after he buys Graceland. But every time he asks, more of her breaks open, and she gets closer and closer to yes.

And then, a few days before Christmas in 1957, something is different in his voice when she picks up the phone.

“You alright, El?”

“They drafted me, Le.” The silence stretches between them as her heart stops.

“Drafted? But there's no war?”

“I know. But I'm going to Germany. Colonel says I don't have a choice.” She tries to swallow her tears. He doesn't need to comfort her while he's dealing with this.

“Germany? How long?”

“Two fuckin’ years, Le.” She holds the phone over her heart for a second and rocks back and forth. Then she takes a deep breath and puts it back to her ear.

“It'll be over before you know it.”

“Yeah.” But he's so defeated. They end the call, and he doesn't even ask her to come to Memphis. He just whispers, his voice thick with emotion, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, El.” Leona hangs up the phone and lets the tears slide down her cheeks. And then she decides.

******

Elvis is sitting at the piano, fiddling with a melody, when the doorbell rings. It's Christmas Eve. No one is expected to arrive, so he's a little unsure as he stands up from the bench. He walks slowly to the door and pulls it open.

“Leona?” There she stands, suitcase next to her on the porch. Snow falls softly behind her, emphasizing the silence that hangs between them. She holds up her left hand and shows him the ring that she's wearing there now.

“Yes.”

******

Is she serious?!

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sissylittlefeather · 13 days ago

Text

True Love Travels on a Gravel Road

Chapter 1

A/N: Alright, I got enough votes on the poll to convince me to post this! I've been very discouraged about my writing lately, so if you enjoy it, please let me know. It's hard to keep writing when it feels like I'm screaming into the void. Those of you who have been loyal commenters, THANK YOU. You seriously keep me living. I wouldn't be me without you.

Now, about this fic. This is gonna be a looooong road, so buckle up and get ready. I hope you love the stick of dynamite in heels that is Leona Moretti as much as I do.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, no slow burn here. These two are magnets. Sex, smut, nudity, cussing, alcohol, all the good stuff.

Word count: ~3.2k

“Fucking ridiculous.” Elvis mutters under his breath as he stomps backstage, aggressively tugging at his white tie until it comes loose and he throws it across the room. He continues to rip off pieces of the tuxedo he'd been dressed in for his appearance on the Steve Allen show, throwing them all over the room. He yells at his band members in frustration, and they don't hesitate to yell back. In general, the atmosphere is tense at best as they debrief the performance.

Leona stands hidden in the shadows, pen and pad in hand, watching the scene in front of her unfold. Her eyes are narrowed, and her lips are curled into a smirk. All she's heard from the other journalists is how sweet and humble this boy is supposed to be, but it would appear she's witnessing a different side of him. Truth be told, it turns her on a little bit.

Eventually, he seems to run out of steam and just stands in the middle of the room, half-dressed and panting like a bull. She takes this as her moment and steps into the light.

“Mr. Presley, do you have a moment?” Her voice is low and honey-smooth, and she immediately catches his attention. He turns to her quickly, ready to glare and fume, but he's completely caught off guard. It's the summer of 1956, and if most of the women he's met are baby dolls, this one is downright vampiric. Her black pencil skirt is scandalously tight, but long enough to still be respectable. The white silk blouse tucked into it is tailored perfectly and unbuttoned just a little too far, the soft roundness of her bosom evident in the opening. Her black hair is styled impeccably, teased and smoothed so well it gives the impression of a kind of effortless perfection, and the sharpness of her red nails is matched only by her black winged eyeliner. He does his best to keep his mouth closed, but the overall effect is shocking. She looks dangerous. “Well?”

He shakes his head just a little to try to get his bearings back. “What?”

“You gotta minute for the press?” She points to the badge clipped to her shirt, and he tries not to focus on what's underneath it. Her accent is unfamiliar, crisp and sassy, but he wants to hear more of it.

“Oh, um, yes. I guess so.” He shrugs and tries to rearrange his face to be nonchalant, even though he's standing in the middle of the room shirtless. She taps her pen on the pad and gives him a swift nod.

“Good. You got somewhere we can talk?” A hush has fallen over the rest of the room as they watch Elvis and Leona size each other up. The two of them seem to have forgotten there's anyone else in the room.

“Sure. Um. This way.” He points to a small dressing room, and she moves smoothly, her black patent heels clicking on the hard floor. Elvis looks over at Scotty, who raises his eyebrows. He shrugs and follows her into the room, carefully closing the door behind himself.

“You seem upset. Did the performance bother you in some way?” Leona turns to face him as she waits for his answer. He sighs deeply.

“I didn't catch your name, honey.”

“Oh. Leona Moretti, Starlite Press.” He crinkles his nose, and she crosses her arms. “You gotta problem with the Starlite Press?”

“No, honey, I just didn't expect a classy little girl like you to be workin’ for that rag.”

“I ain't a little girl.”

“Sorry, honey, it's a southern thing.” She purses her lips. At 22, she's seen a thing or two, but she's never been south of the Mason-Dixon, so his accent is throwing her off too.

“Well, you gonna answer me or not?” She puts her knuckles on her hips and stares him down. Something bubbles up inside him, and he has to look away for a bit. Then, he looks back at her and puts on a charming smile.

“Where'd you say you're from?”

“I didn't.” But he just continues to stare at her sweetly. “Chicago.”

“Leona Moretti from Chicago. Damn. Your daddy a gangster?” He chuckles, obviously joking, but Leona bristles a bit.

“Nothing has ever been proven about Pop. Don't you worry about him. Unless you plan to fall in love with me.” Now it's her turn to smile, but there's a devilish twinkle to it that makes him swallow hard.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” They stare at each other for a while, and then she sighs.

“Fuck it. You wanna get a drink?” He blinks a couple of times, shocked first by her language and second by her suggestion that they get a drink.

“I don't drink.” She rolls her eyes.

“Well, then you can watch me drink. Let's go.” Elvis grabs a shirt and throws it on as she heads for the door. He doesn't even bother to change out of the tuxedo pants or shoes. He just follows her.

******

Leona takes him to some local Italian spot where the smoke hangs heavy and the drinks are strong. Everyone in the place sounds like her, and Elvis does his best not to stick out like a sore thumb, but his haircut and accent don't do him any favors. He calls the waitress “honey” and she rolls her eyes. Leona giggles a little, and he's surprised at how sweet the sound of it is. Maybe there is some softness to her in there somewhere.

“You really gonna just drink a Coke?” She asks over her Manhattan. He was amazed when she didn't even have to order it; the waitress just knew.

“I wouldn't even know what to get.” He shrugs a bit, completely lost, but not ready to walk away yet. She clicks her tongue, and the waitress reappears magically.

“He'll have a bourbon. With lotsa ice. He's just a baby.” Elvis frowns, not even noticing that he's going to have to drink alcohol. He's more worried about being called a baby.

“I ain't a baby.”

“Sorry, doll, must be a Chicago thing.” She smirks at him, and he realizes she's making a joke. Her sense of humor is razor sharp, but he doesn't exactly not like it. A slow smile creeps across his face.

“You're pretty tough, huh?” The waitress brings his drink, and he takes a sip, grimacing and coughing.

“You'll get used to it. My father owns an Italian restaurant in Chicago. I was raised by hard men in a dangerous town. I had to be tough.” She throws back the last of her glass, and another one appears on the table for her. Elvis stares in a kind of reverent disbelief. She's unlike anything he's ever seen before, and he knows he should turn and run, but he doesn't. It's like he's under some kind of spell. Her spell.

“What about your mama? Was she tough too?” Leona darkens and looks down at her glass.

“Wouldn't know. She died giving birth to me.” There's a familiar ache in her voice when she says it, and Elvis watches her carefully.

“I had a brother. Twin. Died when I was born too.” She looks up at him, and there's a moment of something that passes between them. And then Leona smiles a little softer this time, but catches it quickly.

“Your mama probably makes biscuits and fried chicken on Sundays, don't she?” Her biting tone is back, but now he knows she's just joking.

“Oh yeah. A full southern feast. What do you eat on Sundays? Spaghetti and meatballs?” She laughs.

“Nah. I prefer to eat sweet Southern boys. But I don't just do that on Sundays.” Elvis coughs and chokes on his drink, he's laughing so hard.

“Damn, baby. You don't hold back, do ya?” Leona giggles.

“Can't say that I do.” Elvis’s eyes glaze a bit as she orders him another drink. He's feeling nice and relaxed, ready to do just about anything she asks.

The rest of the evening passes in teasing and laughter. At some point, he gets up and moves in to sit next to her on the booth instead of across from her. She giggles and leans into him without thinking, his arm slung around her shoulders. The last thing he remembers is pressing his lips to her neck, just under her ear, and the little satisfied moan she makes in response.

******

Elvis groans as Leona throws open the curtains to let the light stream in and then climbs back into the bed next to him. He rolls over a little and looks at her, his eyes bleary, not sure who she is for a second. Then it hits him. Leona.

He sits up a little too fast and grabs his head, moaning again. “What happened last night?!”

“You had a good time.” He pulls his hands from his face quickly.

“Oh God… did we…?” She giggles a little, lights a cigarette, and lets him sit in the panic before she shakes her head.

“No, baby. You passed out the second we got to the bed.” He notices that he's under the covers with his shirt and shoes off. It dawns on him that she took care of him, and he softens a bit. She laughs again. “You wanted to, though. You really wanted to.”

He covers his face in embarrassment again and groans. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be. I enjoyed it. You don't remember us getting kicked out for kissing at the bar?”

“We did what?!”

“Yeah. You had one hand up my shirt and the other–”

“Jesus. Okay. That's enough. Is there any water?” Leona gestures to the side table, where she's left him a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. He chugs half the water and then takes two of the pills. “We got kicked out?”

“Well, asked to leave really. And then you did a whole performance in the street. If you check your pockets, I think you made about three bucks.” Leona smirks and takes a drag from her cigarette. He reaches into his pockets and chuckles.

“I'll be damned.” They sit for a bit, her smoking and him sipping the water. Eventually, she speaks softly.

“I have toast and coffee, if you'd like to stick around for a bit.” He looks over at her. Her makeup is not as sharp this morning, and her hair is everywhere, but somehow she's even prettier like this. There's a kind of vulnerability in her asking him to stay that touches him. It doesn't seem like she lets many people see her like this.

“Yeah, I'd like that.” She immediately perks up, her face breaking into a wide, relaxed smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, honey, sure. You got any bacon?” She nods and hops out of bed. “Burn it black.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.” She laughs, but does exactly as he asks. Then, she brings him toast, coffee, and his crispy bacon in bed. He's surprised at how willing she is to care for him and keep him around.

After they eat, they sit and talk for a while about everything and nothing all at once. Eventually, he stretches and yawns.

“You mind if I take a quick shower?” She’s standing up, gathering the breakfast dishes, so she shrugs and shakes her head.

“Won't bother me. Towels are under the sink.” He slides out of the bed and makes his way to the bathroom. Before he gets there, though, he steps up close to her and wraps his arms around her waist. She looks up at him with her eyelashes fluttering.

“Thank you for taking care of me last night.” His voice is so sincere that it catches her off guard. For a second, she struggles to make words. He's so beautiful up close like this, and it makes her heart skip a beat.

“Y-yeah. I wasn't gonna let you sleep in the street.” He breathes out a soft laugh, leans down, and kisses her cheek. Then, he unwraps himself from around her and walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. Leona stands in the middle of her bedroom, touching the place where his lips were. He might be the most dangerous man she's ever met.

******

Elvis is in the shower, steam curling around his legs, humming quietly, when he hears the door open and close gently. He freezes, not sure what to expect.

“L-Leona?” The shower curtain opens, and there she is, naked.

“Miss me yet?” She gives him another devilish smile as his mouth drops and his eyes rake over her body. He was already half hard just being in her apartment, but staring at her perfectly rounded breasts, slim waist, and the curve of her hips that meet at the dark patch of hair in the middle has him achingly erect.

“Goddamn baby. You sure?” She steps into the shower and closes the curtain.

“I'm always sure.” And then he's on her, his mouth crashing into hers with a feverish frenzy, his hands roaming over her soft skin, squeezing any inch he can grab onto. Their tongues tangle in the middle as she moans into him. He grabs her thighs and lifts her, pressing her back against the cold tile frantically. She reaches a hand in between them to stroke him a bit before lining him up with her entrance, soaking wet but not from the shower. She whispers into his lips. “Fuck me like you mean it, Presley.”

He groans as he slides deep inside her, her walls tightening around him as she takes him in. She clings to his shoulders, and the water slides down their skin as he begins to thrust into her, slow at first but quickly picking up speed. “God, Le, it feels so fucking good.”

“Yes, oh fuck, don't stop!” He drives into her with a passion he's never experienced before. It's not his first time, but something about this feels different. Like two souls meeting in the place they were always intended to be. He grunts, pulling her hips in closer to his, and she lets out tiny moans with each impact. She starts out kissing his shoulder, but it quickly turns to little nibbles, and he moans deeply.

“You keep doin’ that and I'm gonna cum, baby.”

“Good. Cum for me, babe.” He presses his forehead to hers and bites his bottom lip.

“Not inside. Can't do that.” He stops himself from saying not yet, but the thought is there.

“I'm so close. Please!” She whimpers, and her thighs tremble with the nearness of her orgasm. He quickly finds her clit with his thumb and goes to work, pushing her over the edge. “FUCK!”

She tumbles into oblivion and sinks her teeth into him, her climax pulsing through her body like lightning. He pulls out at the very last second, shooting cum all over her pussy and the inside of her legs.

“Yeah, baby!” He groans as his cock twitches, emptying onto her. She leans her head back against the wall, and he kisses her neck tenderly. “Fuck, that was incredible.”

“Yes, it was. Wow.” They stand there for a minute, both of them trying to catch their breath, before he gently sets her feet back down on the ground. She settles her head on his chest and they let the water run over them, both of them trying desperately not to give away that they're absolutely reeling. Eventually, they pull apart and just look at each other.

“Le, I–” Suddenly, there's a loud knock on the front door of the apartment. It's so powerful that they can hear it even in the bathroom with the water running.

“Who the fuck–?”

“It's the Colonel. Goddamnit. How did he find me here?!”

“The who?!” Elvis cuts the water off quickly and jumps out of the shower, grabbing a towel. He hands one to her, too, and they dry off as fast as possible. Leona wraps herself in a robe, and Elvis pulls his pants back on, not even bothering to do anything with his hair. There's a booming voice from the outside.

“I know you're in there! Open this damn door!” Elvis rolls his eyes, and Leona gives him a threatening look. Then, he walks to the door and opens it.

“How did you find me?!” A fat man in a suit with a cigar between his teeth enters her apartment.

“How is less important than why. What exactly do you think you're doing?!” The Colonel’s eyes drift over to Leona, who tightens her robe around herself instinctively.

“I'm a man, Colonel. I can do what I want.” Elvis pulls on the rest of his clothes defiantly, but also trying to hide the marks Leona has left on him.

“I did not bring you to the city to cavort with whores.”

“With what?!” Leona matches him in volume. Elvis cuts in.

“She’s not a whore. She's a journalist.” The Colonel scoffs.

“I think I'd rather she be a whore.”

“She's right here and she can speak for herself, damn it!” She's almost shaking with rage at this point.

“Le, please. Lemme handle this.” Her mouth drops open, and she laughs a cold, brutal laugh.

“Sure. You handle it. Outside my home. Get the fuck out, both a’yous.” She starts to push Elvis towards the door. The Colonel walks out on his own, but Elvis tries to turn back to her.

“Le, please. He doesn't control me. I can stay.” She looks up at him for half a second, and then something inside her snaps. She can't afford to feel this way.

“No. You should go. Goodbye, Elvis.” She shoves him through the door.

“Wait!” He shouts as she slams it and turns the lock.

Outside the door, Elvis rounds on the Colonel and is just about to give him a piece of his mind, but at the last second, he can't. He stares at him in silent defiance and then walks away, back to his gilded cage.

Leona crawls into bed with her hair wet and sobs into the pillow that still smells like him.

******

Two weeks later, Elvis and Scotty, Bill, and DJ are back on the road in some little backwater town in Texas when the Colonel walks into the room and slams something on the table.

“I told you it would've been better if she were a whore.” The other guys look around confused, but Elvis knows exactly who he's talking about. He hasn't stopped thinking about her. Still, he's not sure what the Colonel means, so he approaches the table carefully.

There, under the Colonel’s hand, is a copy of the Starlite Press with the headline, “My Night with the Hip-Wiggling Sensation was Anything But” by Leona Moretti.

Elvis snatches the paper up and starts reading furiously. He's absolutely floored by lines like “more boy than man, he's less than impressive in every way” and “still a sucker for mama’s cooking, he’s the exact opposite of cultured”. But the thing that gets him the most is the very end.

“At the end of the day, this sad little boy will always be a disappointment. He just doesn't have what it takes to be memorable. I've already forgotten him.”

He turns and throws the paper as hard as he can against the wall and then sinks into a chair, his head in his hands.

“You see, my boy. No one is to be trusted. Especially not loudmouthed little girls with a pen and pad and something to prove.” Elvis looks up at the ceiling.

“She’s not a little girl.”

******

Now what?

Taglist:

I feel like half my taglist isn't even on tumblr anymore. Let me know if you want to be added or taken off!

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #Elvis x oc #Elvis Presley x oc #true love travels on a gravel road #Leona moretti #Elvis x leona #Elvis presley x leona moretti #50s elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis fans

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sissylittlefeather · 15 days ago

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So, uh...

I have three chapters of a new OC series written. Should be long and angsty and full of lightning-hot smut. Anyone interested?

Here is the OC's moodboard:

Leona Moretti, a journalist born October 27th, 1933 in Chicago finds her way to Elvis in 1956. She's wild and dangerous and everything Elvis doesn't need and isn't even sure he wants. So why can't he stop thinking about her?

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic

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sissylittlefeather · 18 days ago

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Amen. Please.

dear lord, please take all life problems and responsibilities away from fanfic writers but also make them financially stable and happy with nothing to worry about so they can happily focus on writing and posting fanfiction. amen

#I just want to write.#please

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sissylittlefeather · 19 days ago

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May your days be blessed with glitter and fairy dust! You're an amazing writer, person, and I hope you have a lovely day!

-a person who's trying to get rid of hate and evilness

OMG THIS IS THE SWEETEST THING EVER!!!

🥹🥹🥹

Thank you!!! Back at ya, friend!!! ♥️♥️♥️

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sissylittlefeather · 24 days ago

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It's been a minute...

All Shook Up

Echoes of stardust

That's all I have of you

But I swear there's something that binds us

Golden white strands of purpose

Between you and me

Tighter than chains

But so much more delicate and heartfelt

You are the answer to the question my soul poses

I am lock

You are key

Enter me and see how we unlock the universe

How were you real?

And not mine?

The shape of my heart is you

Just a cardboard cutout of your silhouette in my chest

The need is like an unquenchable ache

Dry ground burning and begging for your rain

Do you see how my fingertips reach for you?

Touching the edges of what we have left

And begging for your broken, human shape

I'd touch you like you're holy

Hands grazing the edges of your crucifix

Up and over

Around

Until you broke apart, soft in my hands, like so much clay begging to be made into something real

What I wouldn't give to love you

Truly

Madly

Deeply

Until you thrived in the beauty of my embrace.

You belong here.

Yours forever.

Whole.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley poem #elvis poems #elvis presley poems #elvis presley poetry #elvis poem #Elvis poetry

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sissylittlefeather · 25 days ago

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Hurt

A/N: this is a one shot I just wrote out of the blue because I was feeling some type of way. I hope you all... love it? I'd say enjoy but it's kinda sad...

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, sex happens, but also it's just sad

Word count: ~2k

You really only came to the concert because your daughter loves him. Sure, she loves him because you did first, but by now you're pretty sure you might as well fade into the background of life and let her live it for you, even if she is only seven years old. At 38, your best days are behind you. Now there's only this: memories for your children to make and keep as you disappear slowly.

So you take her to see Elvis in 1975. She has a sign that she made herself that says “I love you, Elvis!” and you hold her in the front row so she can try to let him see it. You know he probably won't notice, but you don't want to kill her dreams. She's too little for the reality of life. She still believes in Santa and the Tooth Fairy and Elvis Presley. Let her.

And then it happens. Somewhere between Love Me Tender and I’ve Got a Woman, he sees her sign. A kind of warmth seems to come over him and he pulls her onto the stage for a hug and a scarf. He kisses her forehead and you watch as her childhood dreams come true. When he passes her back to you, though, his eyes settle on yours for a minute. You manage a weak smile and mouth “thank you.” But he seems lost in looking at you. You're not sure what he could possibly be thinking, so you take your daughter back and try to disappear back to your seats.

But Elvis is captivated. First, he loves your little girl and her enthusiasm. Young fans always make him smile just a little more. But second, he notices you. He recognizes something in your eyes: exhaustion, pain, loneliness. And they stick in him like a thorn.

Toward the end of the show, a man comes to you and introduces himself as “Joe”. He asks for your address so Elvis can send your daughter a letter. You give it happily, not expecting anything at all.

And that's the end of it.

Or so you think.

The next day, there's an unexpected knock on your door as you vacuum. Your husband answers and finds a small man who says his name is Charley.

“I'm here on behalf of Elvis Presley. Is your wife available to speak with him?” Your husband is flabbergasted, but he trusts you, so he calls to you and you come to the door. You smile blandly and agree to go with Charley, if he'll let you freshen up a bit first. He says that's fine, he'll wait, so you run back into the house to change and try to smooth your hair a bit.

Finally, you find yourself in a limousine pressed between Charley and the man you know is Joe. You ride in silence until you pull up to a giant hotel that you know is one of the fanciest in town. The elevator carries you in silence again up to the penthouse suite. As the doors open, Charley beckons you inside and tells you that Elvis is waiting for you. You nod slowly and step into the suite, your stomach a cross between knots and butterflies.

“Come on in, honey.” His voice is mellow-butter smooth, so you walk a little closer to where he sits on the couch. “Come sit with me.”

You move over to him and settle yourself on the plushy sofa. He's just as beautiful as he ever was and something inside you aches with being so close to the man you've loved for two decades.

“Your daughter is precious.”

“Oh, thank you. She hasn't stopped talking about how you hugged her on stage last night. Thank you for that.” He smiles genially.

“It was my pleasure, honey.” You sit in silence for a beat before you open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.

“Thank you for coming. I have kind of an unconventional question for you.” You figure it has something to do with your daughter, so you nod slowly. “Are you okay?”

It catches you completely off guard, and you stare at him blankly for a bit. “Yes, I'm fine.”

“Hmm.” He nods. “Me too. So I'm gonna ask again. Honey, are you okay?”

This time you hesitate. Truth be told, you're about as far from fine as you could possibly be. Your husband is not a bad man, but he's inattentive. Gone most of the time and unavailable even when he's around. Your friends have all moved away or tapered off and you find yourself crying into a pillow most nights. You're not sure how you got to where you are in life, but your two kids run you ragged and you'd really rather just disappear into your dirty baseboards.

“I'm fine.”

He cocks his head to the side and clicks his tongue. “Nobody with eyes that sad is fine.”

“Your eyes are sad too.”

“That's how I know.” He reaches up and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, and you sigh softly, closing your eyes. It's been so long since anyone touched you with anything other than obligation. “One more time, honey. Are you okay?”

And then you hear it come out of you in a whisper. “No.”

“I didn't think so. C’mere.” He opens his arms and you don't even think. You just climb across the sofa into his embrace and lay your head on his chest. He holds you to him and kisses your hair softly. “Tell me everything, honey.”

And then you do. It comes pouring out of you before you can stop it and the next thing you know, you're sobbing quietly into his chest hair and telling him about how you feel so trapped in the life you've created. You know you should be grateful, but it feels like you don't even know who you are anymore.

He listens quietly, making little affirmative noises when appropriate. It feels so good to say all of this out loud.

“And I just don't know what I'm doing anymore. My life is just… empty.”

“Honey, I understand that more than you'll ever know.” You lift your head a bit and look him in the eyes. For the first time, you see in them a depth of sadness that matches your own. It's the kind of soul-deep exhaustion that only someone who's fully broken can recognize. Something unspoken passes between you, an understanding of sorts, and you just nod slowly. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and speaks softly. “Here's my offer. Stay with me tonight and for the next 12 hours, we don't belong to anyone but each other. I'll give you everything you need if you'll stay with me and do the same. How does that sound?”

“Like a dream. You mean it?”

“Honey, you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever encountered. And not just on the outside. Let me love you, just for tonight. Will you love me back?” You consider for a second what he's asking and then the answer comes out of you before you can stop it.

“Yes.”

You know that he's not talking about sex, but if that happens, you're not going to stop it. Instead, you kick off your shoes and settle into him and he sighs deeply, tightening his arms around you. He's been so hungry for real affection. Whatever you give him will be enough.

You spend a few hours right there on the couch just talking. He asks questions about your life and you ask about his. The time passes in honesty and vulnerability and you feel yourselves growing closer. At about 1am, he shifts uncomfortably and you sit up a bit.

“Should we move somewhere more comfortable?” You ask. By this point, there's no more hesitation. He smiles and nods.

“You want to go to bed with an old man?”

“I'm an old woman. It's to be expected at this point.” He chuckles a bit and you both peel yourselves off the couch, groaning a little. But eventually you make it to the bedroom and he offers you a shirt to sleep in. He turns his back as you change into it and he puts on some pajamas too. You crawl into the giant bed and find each other somewhere in the middle of it. It's so easy to fit into his arms and some part of you wonders if this is where you've always belonged.

You keep talking, but the lateness of the hour starts to overwhelm you. Your kids are early risers and you've been awake since about 5:30am. You feel yourself start to drift and he kisses your hair softly. “You can sleep, honey. You're safe here.”

It doesn't take much longer for you to fall into a deep sleep in his arms. He watches you for a bit and is surprised to find that he's sleepy too. With a quiet sigh, he fades into sleep wrapped around you.

In the morning, the sunlight streams into the room through the open curtains and you stretch in his arms. Part of you forgot where you were, but when you see that it's him, you smile and kiss his cheek. He moans softly and smiles in return, finding your lips without opening his eyes. This is the first time you've kissed him on the mouth, but it's so soft and sweet that it doesn't feel like anything you should be guilty about. He kisses you again with a little more hunger and you melt into him, your bodies pressed together under the covers.

“You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.” He whispers against your lips.

“I know. But I want to.” You whisper back and he rolls over on top of you, his hand creeping up your thigh. He pushes your panties to the side and slips his fingers through your wetness for a bit before pushing one inside you. You whimper as he pumps it in and out. Even he's surprised to feel his hard cock where it rests against your thigh, but he wants to know you're sure before he does anything more.

“You really want this, honey?” You nod into his neck.

“Please, Elvis. Love me.” He pulls his hand away and drags your panties down your legs as you push his pajama pants down and take him into your palm. When he slides into you, it's not with force or lust, it's an act of devotion that opens you up to him like you've never opened before. He groans at the feel of you wrapped around him and begins to move slowly.

“I do love you honey. In my own way, in this time. I do.” He presses kisses to your shoulder and you moan softly.

“I love you too, Elvis. So much.” He begins to move a little faster and you feel your release gather in your hips.

“You know your cycle, honey?”

“Yes. You're safe.” He nods and presses his sweaty forehead to yours. You know he must be getting close and you're right on the edge.

When you do finally break apart together, the waves of pleasure wash over both of you gently, but firmly and you pulse around him as he empties inside you.

When it ends, he rests his head on your chest and you run your fingers through his hair affectionately.

He orders breakfast for the two of you and you eat it slow, talking about everything and nothing all at once. You shower together, pressed together in overwhelming intimacy.

Eventually, you find yourselves back together on the couch. You're settled on his chest as his fingers make lazy circles on your back.

“I'm not ready for this to end.” You whisper into him. He sighs deeply and you hear it in his chest.

“Me neither.”

But it does. And the time comes for you to leave, so he can get back on the road.

As you stand in the doorway together, a tear escapes and slides down your cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb.

“I'm sorry I can't offer you more than just this.” You shake your head and look up at him.

“I knew what this was. I understand.”

“I'd ask you to come with me if I thought you would. But I know you won't leave your kids.” You smile weakly.

“No. I won't. But thank you for giving me one night to feel alive again. I'll carry it in my heart until I die.” He leans down and captures your lips in a kiss.

“I will too, honey. I'll never forget this.” Before you leave, he scribbles a phone number on a slip of paper and presses it into your hand. And then you disappear out the door for Joe and Charley to take you home.

You never call. You never see him again. Your husband never asks about what might've happened. But you never forget the night Elvis Presley saw your hurt and did what he could to make you feel it just a little bit less.

******

The End

Taglist:

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

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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WE HAVE A CHAMPION

Guys, I am completely shocked. But also really glad because this was the most heartfelt one I wrote and I feel like it shows that we're not all just horny heathens. We have heart and so did he. This has been so much fun! Thank you to everyone who participated and made this a success!!!! You all (and him of course) are the reason I do any of this at all. ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Got some fun stuff in the pipeline for you! Stick around for more great fics!

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #kink madness

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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Kink Madness: FINAL ROUND

Size Kink vs Foot Worship

Here it is! The final round of Kink Madness! We're almost to the end! I hope you all have enjoyed this as much as I have!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut

Size Kink: Walter Gulick

You've only been married six months and you're already pregnant. It didn't take Walter long to fill you up good at just the right time. He'd been dying to do it since the first time you were together anyway. And now you're here, trying desperately to find a pair of pants you can zip or a dress that doesn't show your growing bump.

You're standing in front of the mirror about to cry when Walter comes in from his job at the garage.

“Baby, what’re you doin’? You okay?”

“No! I'm huge. None of my clothes fit. And I hate it.” You try to pull your pants closed again to demonstrate what you're saying and then sigh deeply, your throat thick with tears.

“Ya look good to me, babe. I like you rounded out a little. It's sexy.” He walks up behind you and runs his giant hands over your belly and you cringe.

“I was so tiny when we got together. I feel like a whale.”

“Honey, you're still tiny.”

“No I’m not.” You look down at the floor and try not to cry.

“Yeah y’are. You need me ta prove it?”

“How you gonna do that?” He leans in to whisper in your ear, like he can't stand for anyone to hear what he's about to say.

“With this big cock.” A shiver runs over your body from head to toe. You lean your head back against his chest and he knows you're saying yes. “Lemme show ya.”

In a second, he has your bra, pants, and panties off and his finger on your clit. You moan softly as his other hand finds your breast and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Look at how big my hand is on ya, baby.” He looks at you in the mirror and your eyes drift to where he's touching you. You really do look small with his hands covering you. “Don't even need clothes. I can cover all of ya with just my hands.”

And then he does, with one hand hiding your pussy and the other arm across your breasts. You gasp a little and he grunts. “My tiny little thing.”

He pulls back just long enough to get himself naked behind you, dwarfing you where he stands with your head leaned back on his chest. You can feel his massive cock where it presses against your ass and lower back. “Put your hands on the mirror and watch, baby.”

You do as you're told, leaning forward to take hold of the framed glass, and then look down between your legs. His dick is enormous where you can see it through your thighs. He teases your entrance with the head of it, his knees bent. “Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make you see how tiny you are with this cock inside you.”

“Walter!” You moan and blush. He's never talked this dirty before and it's got you dripping in anticipation. You whimper as he starts to push into you, spreading your legs to try to give him more room.

“See, honey? Your little pussy can barely take me. Look.” You watch in the mirror as his cock stretches you slowly. Even after almost two years of fucking him, it still takes a while for him to fit inside you all the way. He gets within an inch and moans loudly. “So tight and tiny, baby.”

“I don't know if I can– OH GOD.” He snaps his hips and rams the last inch of himself up inside you and you almost collapse against the mirror.

“Did I hurt ya?” You look at him over your shoulder in the glass and his eyebrows are pulled together in concern.

“Fuck, no. Walter. Jesus. You're so big.”

“Am I big or are you small?” He leans in to kiss the back of your neck and your shoulder, pulling out and then filling you again in once smooth motion.

“I'm not sure, but goddamn it feels good.” You moan and arch your back as he starts to slide in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“You're small, baby. Just a tiny li’l thing. Taking this cock so well.”

“Fuck.” He smiles and blushes behind you in the mirror. You can tell he's outside his comfort zone talking like this, but some part of him is really enjoying it. His hands hold your hips in a bruising grip as he pumps into you from behind. You watch in the mirror as he moves in and out of you.

“See? I told ya. You're so pretty like this, honey. Round with my baby and still so small. You like it baby?”

“Y-yes… I love it… it's so good.” He continues to drive into you from behind, using his hands to pull you back onto his dick, your eyes almost crossing from the sensation of being stretched so well.

“And you see that you're so little?” You can tell by how his voice deepens that he's getting closer to his climax. Your orgasm is gathering in your hips too and you can barely respond.

“Yes… so… fuck… tiny…”

“Good. Now cum for me baby. Cum on this dick.”

“W-Walter! Ohhhhh!” You groan and squirm as your release blazes through you like an electric current.

“Good girl. Now it's my… turn… fuck.” You gasp and look at him in the mirror. He's never cussed before. But you don't have long to ponder it as he slams into you and pumps his seed into you. You feel him twitch as he does and then his breathing slows and he pulls you back against his chest. “Tiny li’l thing. Mine.”

You giggle a little and reach back to run your fingers in his hair.

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

“Still me, baby. Just wanted you to know how bad I want you. How much I love you. Was that okay?” You giggle again.

“Walter, that was better than okay.”

“Good. Now will you believe me when I say you're tiny? And no matter how big you get, you'll always be small to me.” He wraps his arms around you and presses his lips to your neck.

“Yes, baby. I believe you. And I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. My tiny little thing.”

“Yours, Walter. Always, always yours.”

******

Foot Worship: Big Daddy Elvis

Honestly, he forgot he had asked Joe to fetch you from the audience after he kissed you during Love Me Tender. So, when Elvis gets back to his suite all sweaty and panting and trying to recover from the show, he's a little shocked to find you there on the couch in your light blue babydoll dress, hair teased to perfection and eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass. It's 1976, and your look is a little outdated, but you've read articles about what he likes, so here you are. Still, you never dreamed he'd actually pick you out of the crowd. You sit on the couch in his suite chewing your cuticle when he comes in, his eyebrows raised.

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry.” You pop up off the couch quickly.

“Should I not be here?” He shakes his head.

“No, it's okay, I'm just… tired… is all…”

“Oh… I can go…” You start to walk past him to the door, but he gently grabs your upper arm to stop you.

“Nah, honey, it's alright. Here, come sit with me.” You settle on the couch together, you nervously twiddling your fingers and him sweating and wishing he'd let you leave. “So, did you enjoy the show?”

“Oh yes! I loved it!” He smiles a little awkwardly and there's a beat of silence. Then, he sighs deeply and covers his eyes with his hand.

“I'm sorry, honey. I'm just really not in the mood for this tonight.” You cock your head to the side a little and really look at him. He's beautiful, that much is true, but he also seems so tired and maybe a little sad.

“What are you in the mood for?” Your voice is quiet and soft, comforting even, and he looks at you a little surprised. His eyes roam over your face and then your body and he smiles softly.

“Just company, honey. You mind that?”

“Not at all.”

Once the expectations drop, you find he's actually really easy to talk to. He also seems pretty pleased to have someone to listen to him. The conversation flows easily and you settle into the couch. About twenty minutes in, you kick off your heels and he inhales sharply.

“What?” You ask with a sly smile, wiggling your toes.

“Nothing. Just– nothing.” His eyes are glued to your feet, though, and you decide to take a chance. You put your little foot in his lap and giggle.

“Oh yeah? Nothing?” He looks down at your pink toenails and tries not to respond too obviously. “You like my feet?”

“Umm, yeah, sweetheart, I-I-I do.”

“You can touch them.” He looks up at you quickly and swallows hard.

“I can?”

“Of course.” You add your other foot to his lap and wiggle your toes invitingly. His hand trembles a little as he takes hold of one of your feet. He runs his thumb up and down the arch and moans softly.

“Such pretty sooties.”

His other hand joins the first in gently massaging your feet and you watch him curiously. It feels amazing and he seems to be really enjoying it, touching you with reverence, almost.

“No one really asks you what you want, do they?” You say it softly, a dull ache rising in your chest for him.

“No. They don't.” He whispers, barely audible.

“What do you want, Elvis?” A small chuckle escapes him as he looks over at you.

“Right now? I want a bath. But I know–” You swing your feet out of his lap and stand up. Then, you turn and walk away from him. He hangs his head, convinced he's offended you in some way, and assumes you're leaving.

The sound of water in the bathroom catches him off guard, though, and he lifts his head, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. You step into the doorway and click your tongue.

“Well, come on then.” A smile spreads across his face as he gets up off the couch and makes his way to you. You offer to leave the bathroom, but he puts his hands on your waist and shakes his head. It takes a bit to get him out of his jumpsuit, but you manage it together. Your dress comes off much easier and before you know it, you're in the bath together, facing each other from opposite ends of the tub. He's got his hands on your feet again and you're talking and laughing as he relaxes into being with you.

“What else do you want? Anything at all.” He's practically glowing with the freedom and it hits you that he might be the most beautiful human you've ever seen. His eyes trail down over your naked body in the water and he gives you a devilish smirk.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Lemme see that pretty little body up close. I'm gettin’ old, y’know.” You crawl across the tub and settle in his lap, straddling him. He starts to run his hands all over you, giving your breasts a gentle squeeze. “Eyes don't work so good. Gotta feel around for stuff.”

You giggle and moan softly as he runs his thumbs over your nipples. It doesn't take long for his hands to make their way back down to your feet, though. He leans forward and presses his lips to your chest while your head falls backwards. You start to roll your hips against him, but there's something so obviously missing.

“Honey, I want to. I really do. But I just can't. I can use my mouth–”

“Is that what you want instead? Don't think about me. What do you want?” You say it without a hint of judgment and he almost cries.

“I just want you close enough to feel. I want you to stay. I wanna feel like you… like…” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers in his hair.

“I do love you, Elvis.” He leans his head forward into your chest and the tears come hot and fast. You hold him there like that for as long as he needs, until his body relaxes and he breathes deep and open, like a weight is lifted.

“You probably think I'm crazy.” He sniffles a bit and moves his hands off of you, like he's giving you permission to get up, but you don't. Instead, you take his face in your hands and kiss each eye, his nose, and then his mouth so gently.

“I think you're beautiful.” You whisper against his lips. He pulls you in tighter, kissing you fully and deeply, his hands holding your body close to his. With one hand on your foot, he moves his other one in between you to make circles on you. You whimper and pull back. “You don't have to do that.”

“I know, honey. I want to.” You bury your face in his neck as his skilled fingers move on you, bringing you to a climax in almost no time. When your body relaxes against him, he kisses your temple. “Stay. Please.”

“Always.”

In the morning, when he has more energy, you’ll make love fully and completely. But for tonight, he's content to slip into bed with you and fall asleep holding your pretty little foot.

******

Reblog! Vote! The end!

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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Guys, this is unexpected...

The winner of Round 14 is

Foot Worship?!

I am SHOOKETH to my core. My money was on Cum Play. In fact, I had already made the final graphic with Temperature Play vs Cum Play because I just knew that would be it! But no! Y'all surprised me and it's Size Kink vs Foot Worship!!! I'll post it later. Don't forget to vote and reblog. THIS WILL BE THE LAST EVER VOTING ROUND!!!!

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #kink madness

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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Kink Madness: Round 14

Cum Play vs Aftercare vs Foot Worship

This matchup has 3 challengers because Round 12 was a tie! Let's see who gets to take on Walter G and Size Kink for the Title!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, in one of them Elvis is angry and he gets a bit rough with the reader, but it's all consensual

Cum Play: EOT Elvis

Elvis is mad. And not just, like, yelling mad. He's kicking tables and screaming mad. When he gets back to the suite you're sharing, his hair is wild and he takes off his glasses and throws them at the wall as hard as he can. You raise your eyebrows as they shatter onto the carpet.

“Elvis…”

“FUCKIN’ COLONEL. PIECE OF SHIT MOTHERFUCKER.” He kicks over an end table and sends everything on it flying. You sigh and look at the stuff on the floor. This is not the first time you've seen him in a rage like this.

“Elvis.”

“FUCKIN’ FATASS BASTARD.”

“ELVIS.” He stops and turns to look at you, nostrils flared as he seethes.

“What?!” You don't even flinch and it's not lost on him. You're the first girl he's ever known who hasn't cowered in fear when he gets like this. Maybe it's the way you were raised, but you get more steady as he gets more turbulent. Right now, you're so calm you could perform brain surgery.

“What do you need?” You ask him, not quietly, but not aggressively either.

“Need?! I don't know. Fuck!” He turns and throws an ashtray at the wall and then drops into a chair, hands in his hair. You walk over to him, not carefully, smoothly.

“Fuck is right. That's what you need.”

“What?” He looks up at you with his eyebrows screwed up in confusion.

“You need to fuck. Me. Right now.”

“What? No? Baby, have you lost your ever-lovin’…” But he trails off as you stand in front of him and start to undress. Once you're naked, you bend over and put your hands on his knees.

“You need this negative energy out of you. I'm gonna fuck it out.” He opens his mouth to protest, but goes silent as you turn and walk away from him to the bed and then climb onto it on all fours. “Come on, daddy. Show baby how mad you are.”

He grunts as you wiggle your naked ass at him. Then, he's on his feet, shedding layers as he walks towards you on the bed.

“I'm pretty fuckin’ mad, baby. I don't think you know what you're doin’ pokin’ me like this.”

“You think I'm scared of you? Scared of big bad daddy with his bad temper?” He slaps your ass with one of his big hands and squeezes it.

“Stop it, baby.”

“Make me.” You lean down on your arms so that your glistening pussy is right in front of him. He growls and pushes his fingers into you up to the rings.

“Make you? Make you?” He slams his fingers in and out hard and you whimper with the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Yeah, daddy. Show me how mad you can get.”

“Show you? I'll fuckin’ show you.” He growls as he pulls your hips back to him gruffly. You bite your lip as he teases your entrance for a second before he slams his whole aching cock into you.

“Oh!” You let out a little moan as he starts to pound into you.

“I'll show this little pussy just how mad I am.” He speaks under his breath, but you can hear him.

“Louder, daddy. I wanna hear you.”

“Fuck. You don't want this, baby.”

“Don't tell me what I want! Harder!” He groans loudly and squeezes your hips so hard you know there'll be bruises in the morning. You curse under your breath as he drives into you with so much force you lose the ability to think straight.

“Don't… fuckin’... tell me… what to do…!” He punctuates each word with a harder thrust. And then, without warning, he pulls out and flips you over, slamming back into you, hard.

“Yes, daddy. Just like that.” You whimper and he reaches down to wrap his hand around your throat. He doesn't choke you, but he grips you with just enough pressure to let you know he's there.

“You like that, you little slut? You like daddy’s cock punishing you like this?” He moans and his eyes roll back as he pounds you.

“Y-yes. I love it, daddy.” He can feel the edges of his release closing in as he slams into you harder than he's ever fucked a woman before.

“Get on your knees then.” He growls, squeezing your throat a little before letting go. You scramble off of him and down onto the floor in front of him. “Good girl. That's daddy’s good little slut.”

And then before he knows what he's doing, he's pumping his cock and shooting cum all over your face. You close your eyes quickly and open your mouth, but he continues to cover your cheeks and lips and forehead. When he finishes, he exhales and steps backwards, spent. He looks at what he's done to you and stumbles over to the bed, sitting on the edge and then laying down. You feel around on the floor for something and eventually find your panties, using them to clean off your face. When you finally blink your eyes open, you turn to see him lying on the bed staring at the ceiling.

“Daddy?”

“I shouldn't have done that.” You lay down next to him on the bed and he wraps an arm around you to pull you in close to his side. He looks down and caresses your cheek with his thumb. “I'm so sorry.”

You look up at him and shake your head. “Don't be. I asked for it.”

“But still–”

“Elvis, you needed to get that out of you. You didn't hurt me.”

“You sure?” His eyes are round and blue and tortured as he looks down at you.

“Yes. Are you still angry?”

“No.”

“Then I did exactly what I was trying to do.”

“Baby…”

“I love you, Elvis.” He freezes for half a second. That's the first time either of you has used that word or even entertained the thought that this could be more than just sex. He thinks about what you just did for him, how you put his needs first, how you're always there for him, and have been, since the start. And then it just comes tumbling out.

“I love you too, baby. So goddamn much.” You smile a little and kiss the end of his nose.

“Whatever you need, daddy. Baby’s here. And I'm not goin' anywhere.”

“Thank you.” His voice is thick with emotion and he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead. It's a hell of a beginning, but it's yours, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

******

Aftercare: 50s Elvis

“You're sure about this, baby?” He looks down at you with his eyes round and blue, his dark hair falling in his eyes from the passion that led up to this moment. You spread your legs a little wider and nod, determined to put on a brave face despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Because we don't hafta do this. You know I love you either way.”

“I-I want this.” You lift your hand to his cheek and he kisses your palm as you gather the strength to continue. “I love you so much, Elvis. I want you to be my first.”

He sighs and reaches down between you to drag the head of his length through your heat, a soft moan escaping his lips at the feeling. “You stop me if it hurts too much, okay?”

“I will.” You take a deep breath and wiggle your hips a bit. “Okay. I'm ready.”

He inhales, holding it, and then slowly starts to push forward. You do your best to try to relax, but there's a thick tightness inside you that is less than pleasant. He moves like a glacier, watching your face for cues as he presses into you, but the sensation is about to overwhelm him too. It takes everything in him not to just slam into you, but he knows that would hurt you too much. As he moves deeper, it starts to burn and you're shocked at just how big he feels. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper a little and he freezes.

“Baby, are you okay? Should I stop?” You hear the panic and concern in his voice and pop your eyes open, shaking your head.

“No! No, I'm okay. Don't stop.”

“Are ya sure, ‘cause I don't wanna–”

“Elvis, I'm okay. Please.” He nods again and then resumes moving into you. The stretching pain resumes too and you try your best to keep breathing. You're just about to tell him to stop when there's a sharp pain and you gasp. But then something changes.

“Baby?! I'm stopping.” He starts to slowly pull out and you grab his hips to hold him in place.

“No, wait! I-I-I think I'm okay.” You look up at him and he blinks, his heart racing.

“You sure?” You roll your hips forward and wrap your legs around his waist and he groans.

“Yes. Keep going.” He slides forward again, smoother this time, and fills you fully as you moan softly.

“Is it good?” He asks, his voice still laced with concern.

“Yeah. God, yes. It feels so much better now.” You lean forward and kiss his lips and he smiles against your mouth.

“That's good because you feel so damn good it was gonna be real hard for me to stop. I-I-I'd do it, but it wouldn't be easy.” You giggle and he peppers your face with kisses. “I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you, t– OH!” You gasp and moan as he pulls back and pushes into you again. Your eyes cross a little and he chuckles.

“That good, huh?”

“God. Fuck. Yes.” You groan loudly. He starts to pick up a slow but steady rhythm, grunting with his forehead pressed to yours.

“Yeah. What you said.”

He continues sliding in and out of you, moving a little faster with each thrust. You say a lot more curse words as your breasts start to bounce and he snaps his hips against yours with more force.

“I'm gonna cum, baby. Oh God.” At the last second, he pulls out and pumps himself with his hand, letting his release cover your stomach. When he finishes, he rolls over on his back, trying to catch his breath. “Wazzat good for you too?”

You giggle at how his speech is slurred from the aftershocks of his pleasure. “Yeah, it felt really good. I loved it.”

He turns and looks at you, his eyes warm and soft. Then he realizes you're just laying there sticky and rolls off the bed to get a towel. He comes back to wipe you clean, dabbing your tummy lightly. And then he sees it. There on your thigh: blood.

“Oh God, baby! You're bleeding! Is it–?”

“No. It's not that time. Must be from what we just–”

“I did this to you?!” He pushes your thighs apart gently and touches you so softly with the towel. “Does it still hurt? Oh God. I should've stopped.”

“Elvis, I'm fine! I promise!”

“No. I hurt you. Goddamnit, baby, I'm so sorry.” His hands shake and his eyes fill with tears and the sight almost breaks you. You grab the towel and hold it with your thighs shut and then drag him up to be face to face with you.

“Elvis, look at me.” You grab his cheeks with both hands. “I am okay. It hurt a little, but then it stopped. And a little blood is normal. It's okay. You didn't hurt me.”

“You sure? Because I couldn't stand it if I hurt you. I just couldn't. I love you way too much.” You kiss the end of his nose and he closes his eyes. “I can't believe I took that from you.”

You stroke his cheek with your thumb and sigh.

“I love you too. And I'm fine. It actually felt really good. But Elvis–” He looks at you again. “You can't take something that's freely given. I wanted to give myself to you. I'll never regret that.”

You smile softly and move your hands from his face. He shakes his head incredulously.

“I don't deserve you.” You kiss his lips, smiling with your heart full to bursting.

“Nah, probably not. But I'm yours anyway. Yours, Elvis, fully and completely.” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and touches your cheek as you blink away tears.

“Then I'll live the rest of my life trying to be worth it.” His voice is low and soft, almost a whisper. You sniffle and kiss him again, whispering in return.

“You already are.”

******

Foot Worship: Big Daddy Elvis

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry.” You pop up off the couch quickly.

“Should I not be here?” He shakes his head.

“No, it's okay, I'm just… tired… is all…”

“Oh… I can go…” You start to walk past him to the door, but he gently grabs your upper arm to stop you.

“Oh yes! I loved it!” He smiles a little awkwardly and there's a beat of silence. Then, he sighs deeply and covers his eyes with his hand.

“What are you in the mood for?” Your voice is quiet and soft, comforting even, and he looks at you a little surprised. His eyes roam over your face and then your body and he smiles softly.

“Just company, honey. You mind that?”

“Not at all.”

“What?” You ask with a sly smile, wiggling your toes.

“Nothing. Just– nothing.” His eyes are glued to your feet, though, and you decide to take a chance. You put your little foot in his lap and giggle.

“Oh yeah? Nothing?” He looks down at your pink toenails and tries not to respond too obviously. “You like my feet?”

“Umm, yeah, sweetheart, I-I-I do.”

“You can touch them.” He looks up at you quickly and swallows hard.

“I can?”

“Such pretty sooties.”

His other hand joins the first in gently massaging your feet and you watch him curiously. It feels amazing and he seems to be really enjoying it, touching you with reverence, almost.

“No one really asks you what you want, do they?” You say it softly, a dull ache rising in your chest for him.

“No. They don't.” He whispers, barely audible.

“What do you want, Elvis?” A small chuckle escapes him as he looks over at you.

The sound of water in the bathroom catches him off guard, though, and he lifts his head, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. You step into the doorway and click your tongue.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Honey, I want to. I really do. But I just can't. I can use my mouth–”

“Is that what you want instead? Don't think about me. What do you want?” You say it without a hint of judgment and he almost cries.

“I just want you close enough to feel. I want you to stay. I wanna feel like you… like…” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers in his hair.

“Always.”

In the morning, when he has more energy, you’ll make love fully and completely. But for tonight, he's content to slip into bed with you and fall asleep holding your pretty little foot.

******

Don't forget to reblog! Thanks!

Taglist:

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x reader #kink madness

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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Y'all really shocked me with this one!

The winner of Round 13 is

Size Kink!

Walter got 90% of the votes!! I totally expected Temperature Play to win that one! Round 14 will be out soon. Only two more rounds of voting before we have a Grand Champion! Who will it be?!

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #kink madness

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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Kink Madness: Round 13

Temperature Play vs Size Kink

Down to the Final 4 (or I guess 5 since Round 12 was a tie 😂)! I'm going to post both polls today, so make sure you voteeeeee!!

Temperature Play: TTWII Elvis

Elvis walks into the cool suite after rehearsal with his silk shirt stuck to his back from sweat. It's August in the desert and hot is an understatement. He looks around the room for you, but you're nowhere to be found. Finally, he finds you on the patio laid out on a lounge chair, skin slick with sweat as you sit in your bikini trying to get a tan. Before he walks to you, though, he grabs a bucket, fills it with ice, and plops a bottle of champagne in it, holding two glasses with his other hand. He doesn't normally drink, but today was good and he wants to celebrate.

“It's a million degrees out here, honey. You tryin’ to cook yourself?” You startle a bit at the sound of his voice and cover your eyes to look up at him.

“You know I like to be tan. It is hot though. Almost too hot.”

“Wanna cool off?” He holds up the bucket and the champagne glasses before settling next to you on the chair.

“Oooh yes, please!” You hold out your hand for a glass and he sets the other one on the table with the ice bucket. He pops the bottle open and then lifts it over to you to fill your glass, but it drips icy water onto your stomach and you gasp. “Oh shit, that's cold!”

He laughs and finishes filling your glass. You take a sip and he eyes you from behind his sunglasses. “Just how hot are you, doll?”

“Pretty damn hot, Elvis. Why?” The corners of his lips curl up into a wicked smile and he takes your champagne glass, setting it on the table next to his. He dips his hand into the ice bucket and pulls out a small cube. “I know you don't think you're gonna–”

Before you can finish the sentence, he starts to slide the ice around on your chest, pulling your top out of the way to drag it around your nipple. You gasp again, “fuck, that is cold!”

“Oh, I'm sorry, baby.” He leans forward and warms your icy bud with his tongue. But he doesn't stop with the ice cube. He keeps sliding it around on your skin, heating you back up with his mouth afterwards. You whimper and gasp and moan as he works your body, moving further and further down towards your center. The cube has melted fully, so he uses both hands to slide your bottoms off.

“What are you up to now?”

“You trust me?”

“Always.” He smiles and fishes out another piece of ice, this time slipping it into his mouth. Then, he presses his lips to your thighs, the cold sensation making you shiver as he approaches your slit. You arch into him when he finally makes it there, dragging his cold tongue up and down.

And then he does the unthinkable. He pushes the piece of ice, now small and soft, up into you with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, Elvis!” Your pussy clenches around the cube and the feeling of it threatens to overwhelm you.

“Hold it in there ‘til I make you cum.”

“Jesus. Fuck.” Your knuckles go white as you grip the edges of the lounge chair while he dives into you, licking and sucking on your clit. You can feel the ice slowly melting and it's like he's teasing you from the inside out. You whimper and moan as he eats you, moving his tongue in slow, lazy circles over your hardened bud. “Mmmm it's too much!”

“No it's not, baby. Just cum for me.”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” He licks hard and fast over you now, desperate to push you over the edge. “Fuck!”

When your orgasm crashes into you, it feels like the ice runs in your veins out to your extremities and back again and it feels so good you almost scream. He pushes a finger inside you to make sure the ice is melted and groans.

“Get on top.” You quickly rearrange so that he's sitting in the chair and then unzip his pants. His cock springs free, hard and aching, and you don't hesitate to line up and sink down onto him. “Goddamn baby, your pussy is cold.”

“I told you!”

“Fuck, but she's squeezing me so good.” He growls into your neck as he grabs your hips and starts to move you up and down on his dick. You reach back and grab an ice cube and hold it to your lips. Then, you lean forward and press your lips to the skin just below his ear. He gasps a little and starts to move you even faster on his lap. You pop the ice cube into your mouth and kiss him deep and he groans. The desert sun on your skin is the perfect contrast for where you're icy cold and the sensation of both at once pushes you to the edge of another orgasm. He rips the straps of your bikini down and presses his cold lips to your breasts again, murmuring against your nipple, “Cum with me, honey.”

You roll your hips against him hard and he reaches down to rub your clit while you ride him. It's just enough to drive you into your release and you moan loudly as your body shudders and pulses around him. He grunts and holds you still, letting your pussy milk his climax from him.

“Fuck, that's good baby.” His breath is still a little cold from the last ice cube as he pants against your skin. You collapse on his chest, shaking and sweating as you both try to steady your heart rates. “You cold?”

“Little bit.” He grins at you mischievously.

“Let's go inside, then. I've got a warm bath and some hot wax candles with your name on them.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Honey, do I look like a man who would joke about a thing like that?” You move to stand up off of him and he grabs you and holds you tighter, whispering in your ear. “You know I'll always give you what you need.”

“You really, really do.”

******

Size Kink: Walter Gulick

You're standing in front of the mirror about to cry when Walter comes in from his job at the garage.

“Baby, what’re you doin’? You okay?”

“No! I'm huge. None of my clothes fit. And I hate it.” You try to pull your pants closed again to demonstrate what you're saying and then sigh deeply, your throat thick with tears.

“Ya look good to me, babe. I like you rounded out a little. It's sexy.” He walks up behind you and runs his giant hands over your belly and you cringe.

“I was so tiny when we got together. I feel like a whale.”

“Honey, you're still tiny.”

“No I’m not.” You look down at the floor and try not to cry.

“Yeah y’are. You need me ta prove it?”

“How you gonna do that?” He leans in to whisper in your ear, like he can't stand for anyone to hear what he's about to say.

“With this big cock.” A shiver runs over your body from head to toe. You lean your head back against his chest and he knows you're saying yes. “Lemme show ya.”

In a second, he has your bra, pants, and panties off and his finger on your clit. You moan softly as his other hand finds your breast and gives it a gentle squeeze.

And then he does, with one hand hiding your pussy and the other arm across your breasts. You gasp a little and he grunts. “My tiny little thing.”

“I don't know if I can– OH GOD.” He snaps his hips and rams the last inch of himself up inside you and you almost collapse against the mirror.

“Did I hurt ya?” You look at him over your shoulder in the glass and his eyebrows are pulled together in concern.

“Fuck, no. Walter. Jesus. You're so big.”

“Am I big or are you small?” He leans in to kiss the back of your neck and your shoulder, pulling out and then filling you again in once smooth motion.

“I'm not sure, but goddamn it feels good.” You moan and arch your back as he starts to slide in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“You're small, baby. Just a tiny li’l thing. Taking this cock so well.”

“See? I told ya. You're so pretty like this, honey. Round with my baby and still so small. You like it baby?”

“And you see that you're so little?” You can tell by how his voice deepens that he's getting closer to his climax. Your orgasm is gathering in your hips too and you can barely respond.

“Yes… so… fuck… tiny…”

“Good. Now cum for me baby. Cum on this dick.”

“W-Walter! Ohhhhh!” You groan and squirm as your release blazes through you like an electric current.

You giggle a little and reach back to run your fingers in his hair.

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

“Still me, baby. Just wanted you to know how bad I want you. How much I love you. Was that okay?” You giggle again.

“Walter, that was better than okay.”

“Good. Now will you believe me when I say you're tiny? And no matter how big you get, you'll always be small to me.” He wraps his arms around you and presses his lips to your neck.

“Yes, baby. I believe you. And I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. My tiny little thing.”

“Yours, Walter. Always, always yours.”

******

Vote, reblog, y'all know the drill!

Taglist:

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader #kink madness

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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And the winner of Round 12 is...

No one. They tied.

Both Aftercare and Foot Worship will be posted with their challenger and you'll have to pick between the three!

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #kink madness

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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Kink Madness: Round 12

Aftercare vs Foot Worship

We have reached the end of the Elite 8! Who will win the Intimacy Division?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut

Aftercare: 50s Elvis

“I-I want this.” You lift your hand to his cheek and he kisses your palm as you gather the strength to continue. “I love you so much, Elvis. I want you to be my first.”

He sighs and reaches down between you to drag the head of his length through your heat, a soft moan escaping his lips at the feeling. “You stop me if it hurts too much, okay?”

“I will.” You take a deep breath and wiggle your hips a bit. “Okay. I'm ready.”

“Baby, are you okay? Should I stop?” You hear the panic and concern in his voice and pop your eyes open, shaking your head.

“No! No, I'm okay. Don't stop.”

“Are ya sure, ‘cause I don't wanna–”

“Baby?! I'm stopping.” He starts to slowly pull out and you grab his hips to hold him in place.

“No, wait! I-I-I think I'm okay.” You look up at him and he blinks, his heart racing.

“You sure?” You roll your hips forward and wrap your legs around his waist and he groans.

“Yes. Keep going.” He slides forward again, smoother this time, and fills you fully as you moan softly.

“Is it good?” He asks, his voice still laced with concern.

“Yeah. God, yes. It feels so much better now.” You lean forward and kiss his lips and he smiles against your mouth.

“I love you, t– OH!” You gasp and moan as he pulls back and pushes into you again. Your eyes cross a little and he chuckles.

“That good, huh?”

“God. Fuck. Yes.” You groan loudly. He starts to pick up a slow but steady rhythm, grunting with his forehead pressed to yours.

“Yeah. What you said.”

He continues sliding in and out of you, moving a little faster with each thrust. You say a lot more curse words as your breasts start to bounce and he snaps his hips against yours with more force.

You giggle at how his speech is slurred from the aftershocks of his pleasure. “Yeah, it felt really good. I loved it.”

“Oh God, baby! You're bleeding! Is it–?”

“No. It's not that time. Must be from what we just–”

“I did this to you?!” He pushes your thighs apart gently and touches you so softly with the towel. “Does it still hurt? Oh God. I should've stopped.”

“Elvis, I'm fine! I promise!”

“Elvis, look at me.” You grab his cheeks with both hands. “I am okay. It hurt a little, but then it stopped. And a little blood is normal. It's okay. You didn't hurt me.”

“You sure? Because I couldn't stand it if I hurt you. I just couldn't. I love you way too much.” You kiss the end of his nose and he closes his eyes. “I can't believe I took that from you.”

You stroke his cheek with your thumb and sigh.

You smile softly and move your hands from his face. He shakes his head incredulously.

“I don't deserve you.” You kiss his lips, smiling with your heart full to bursting.

“Nah, probably not. But I'm yours anyway. Yours, Elvis, fully and completely.” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and touches your cheek as you blink away tears.

“Then I'll live the rest of my life trying to be worth it.” His voice is low and soft, almost a whisper. You sniffle and kiss him again, whispering in return.

“You already are.”

******

Foot Worship: Big Daddy Elvis

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry.” You pop up off the couch quickly.

“Should I not be here?” He shakes his head.

“No, it's okay, I'm just… tired… is all…”

“Oh… I can go…” You start to walk past him to the door, but he gently grabs your upper arm to stop you.

“Oh yes! I loved it!” He smiles a little awkwardly and there's a beat of silence. Then, he sighs deeply and covers his eyes with his hand.

“What are you in the mood for?” Your voice is quiet and soft, comforting even, and he looks at you a little surprised. His eyes roam over your face and then your body and he smiles softly.

“Just company, honey. You mind that?”

“Not at all.”

“What?” You ask with a sly smile, wiggling your toes.

“Nothing. Just– nothing.” His eyes are glued to your feet, though, and you decide to take a chance. You put your little foot in his lap and giggle.

“Oh yeah? Nothing?” He looks down at your pink toenails and tries not to respond too obviously. “You like my feet?”

“Umm, yeah, sweetheart, I-I-I do.”

“You can touch them.” He looks up at you quickly and swallows hard.

“I can?”

“Such pretty sooties.”

His other hand joins the first in gently massaging your feet and you watch him curiously. It feels amazing and he seems to be really enjoying it, touching you with reverence, almost.

“No one really asks you what you want, do they?” You say it softly, a dull ache rising in your chest for him.

“No. They don't.” He whispers, barely audible.

“What do you want, Elvis?” A small chuckle escapes him as he looks over at you.

The sound of water in the bathroom catches him off guard, though, and he lifts his head, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. You step into the doorway and click your tongue.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Honey, I want to. I really do. But I just can't. I can use my mouth–”

“Is that what you want instead? Don't think about me. What do you want?” You say it without a hint of judgment and he almost cries.

“I just want you close enough to feel. I want you to stay. I wanna feel like you… like…” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers in his hair.

“Always.”

In the morning, when he has more energy, you’ll make love fully and completely. But for tonight, he's content to slip into bed with you and fall asleep holding your pretty little foot.

******

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