#elvis presley angst

[starryschoolgirl]

Family & Fame

An attempt at a Elvis x Reader drabble

Summary -> In private Elvis was your loving husband and you were his doting wife, but in public Elvis was Elvis Presley, and you were just the wife. Unfortunately, sometimes that public dynamic would follow the two of you home, making way for arguments.

Warnings -> Jealousy, marital dissatisfaction, arguments, very cute and domestic 1st scene though, if you only want some pure fluff read that first scene it's adorable, denial of sex, yelling, swearing, flirty fans, circa 1956, Elvis' confusion leads to anger, Elvis is such a cutie I can't even be mad at him in this. Elvis is also a dad in this because I felt like it.

WC -> 3.5k

Request -> "i was wondering if you could write something with elvis x reader where there's a little marital dissatisfaction? just like a little drabble, doesn't even need to be over 100 words"

"You look handsome, now stop fussing"

Elvis leaned into your hand that cupped his cheek which was smooth from being freshly shaved.

"Now,"

You reached down for the comb on the hotel suite's bathroom counter, holding it casually between two fingers. While you smiled up at him your thumb stroked his cheekbone gently as you asked,

"Would ya hold still so I can fix that mess of hair?"

Elvis laughed softly and turned his cheek slightly to press his lips on your palm, smirking sweetly as he murmured against the skin,

"Sure thing Mama…"

With a smile you stilled his head by keeping your hold on his cheek, tapping it lightly you signaled for him to get lower, which he complied with as he bent his knees slightly, lowering himself to a height that you could see the top of his hair better.

As you neatly combed the gelled mess back into place you mumbled fondly,

"See what happens when a man fusses over his appearance? Just makes it worse, you men, so reckless with your hands…"

He asked testily with a smirk,

"And when a woman fusses over her appearance?"

You simply responded with one last perfecting swoop of the comb,

"Women don't fuss."

He drawled out a sarcastic, "Mhm…"

To which he was answered with a pointed, "Mhm."

After feeling pleased with your work you placed the comb down and smiled up at him, "Perfect", you said just before kissing his cheek.

You then turned to the long bathroom mirror that covered the entire length of the long marble countertops, leaning over it ever so slightly to rub at the skin around your lipstick, making sure it wasn't off-kilter in any way.

He smoothly stepped behind you, the front of his body pressed against the back of yours as his spine bent with yours, leaning over you onto the bathroom counter as you eyed him through the mirror. His arms wrapped around your waist and his chin fell to your shoulder as he stared back at you through the mirror.

His voice was low and gruff as he suggested,

"We don't really gotta go to this little gatherin' tonight now do we? Couldn't we just enjoy the rest of our time in San Francisco? We got about 10 more hours."

Elvis punctuated each sentence with a kiss to your neck, right in that spot he knew you were ticklish. You laughed softly and gently batted him away with a few swipes of your hand which in turn made him laugh.

You spoke while trying (and failing) to keep a serious face,

"Elvis, t-the mayor-"

Your laughing made it hard to put together a proper sentence.

"He's holding this soirée tonight in honor of you coming to- Ack..!"

Elvis laughed and said sarcastically before biting your ear,

"Oh, a soirée? I'm sorry little Ms. French I didn't know it was such a big deal"

You tried your best to continue through the giggle-fest Elvis could pull from you.

"Don't you w-wanna show them all that Southern charm you used to get me to marry you?"

Elvis growled playfully as his hands wrapped around your waist tightened and he picked you up from behind, evoking a squeal of surprise from you as he mumbled into your ear,

"Ya make it sound as if I schemed on you with those charms"

You laughed loudly as he held you up and responded,

"You did scheme on me! Made me think I was marrying a John Wayne cowboy type, just to find out you're a Harpo Marx clownish type, but instead of playing a harp you play a guitar"

He growled into your ear "Oh you little-" before ravaging your neck with playful kisses.

A knock on the bathroom door interrupted your fun, the both of you turning to see it soon opening after Elvis', "Come in Roberta"

As the door opened you smiled to see Roberta, the sweet old lady who'd been working for you and Elvis since a month or two after he released his first RCA record which brought in the money needed to have a personal nanny for yours and Elvis' daughter, sweet little Charlotte, who she was holding as she stood in the doorway.

Roberta smiled as she saw her two employers as in love as ever in each other's arms, the both of you looking like a million bucks in your outfits for tonight.

"Well kids, I just wanted to let the two of ya know Charlotte is all dressed and ready to go, and that the bellboy said the car's out front and ready.

She was much older so even though you and Elvis were adults, she still referred to the both of you as kids, because the two of you in life experience were like kittens compared to a sweet old cat like her.

You smiled and quickly made your way to take your daughter out of her nanny's arms, cooing over how darling she looked in her little dress and coat before saying with a smile, "Thank you, Roberta."

You looked back at Elvis as you bounced Charlotte in your arms, asking with a soft smile,

"Could you grab my purse over by the sink Honey?"

-----

Sometimes you forget how Elvis' emotions could flip like a switch.

One moment before walking into the big building as Elvis held Charlotte and nervously stared at the doors, you'd cup his cheeks gently and whisper reassuringly, "Hey, everybody here is here for you, to just be around you. You're the man of the evening, they're the ones who should be nervous right now, and I bet you they are"

And then the next, you're holding your sweet daughter in your arms while Elvis is holding some random girls (who you're sure are somebody's sweet daughters) in his arms as he's telling them what "overcomes" him to make him move on stage.

You could vomit, you really could, at the way they all put their hands mindlessly on his chest, and 'ooh' and 'ah' over him explaining what it was like for him to film his upcoming debut film "Love Me Tender"

You got along well with the mayor's wife and a few of San Francisco's socialites who were older women which meant they weren't here for Elvis they were here because their husbands who were close friends of the mayor were here. Due to their disinterest in Elvis, they were easy to make casual conversation with.

The younger women, however, were a different matter. Most of them clung to Elvis or waited their turn to do so. And as you watched from afar you were well aware you could go over there to claim what was yours, but you didn't feel the need to. The ring was on your finger, and his child was in your arms. Sure, he didn't often make eye contact with you through the night like he always used to, but that was just because he was surrounded by so many fans. Right?

Sometimes through the night, he'd shifted through the room to you, with a group of girls in his arms, only now it was a different set, and of course, the merry mayor following him closely, buttering up to America's icon. You shifted Charlotte to your hip as Elvis introduced you to the short, tubby man.

"This is my wife, and right there is our little girl, Charlotte."

The mayor tipped his head to baby Charlotte in your arms, "It's nice to meet you little miss, and," he then turned his head to you and held his hand out, "It's nice to meet you as well Mrs. Presley"

You laughed softly at the title and politely urged him to just call you by your first name.

The night went on like that, now and then a new important man would shuffle his way into the circle of girls that surrounded Elvis and the two of you would do introductions, eventually, Elvis had offered to hold Charlotte for you, and as he picked her up he smiled at her saying, "There's my little girl", making those big fish eyes that often entertained the little girl.

The women that surrounded him would coo at how sweet of a father he seemed to be. You only watched with an unimpressed look as one of the girls chimed in,

"She's blonde? I thought you said under that mop of shoe polish dyed hair was a light brown color, or are you just trying to fool me, Mr. Presley?"

The girl giggled and obnoxiously leaned her head against Elvis' shoulder and made a playful face at your daughter as she did so, clearly infatuated by the adorable baby, but not as much as she was with the man who had fathered the baby.

Elvis laughed softly at her jest, and responded simply,

"Well Hon, it's true that I have light brown hair now, but when I was a baby I had blond hair, it just turned brown as I got older, happens with a lotta babies"

The girl giggled once more and took an almost mournful sigh as she stared up at Elvis through her batting eyelashes (you were surprised she didn't fly away with how fast those things were flapping), and crawled her hand that rested on his chest a little higher as she spoke,

"I think I'd have to see that to believe it…"

Oh, brother.

You sighed softly at the ridiculousness of these girls, and the added ridiculousness of Elvis actually laughing and smiling along. He would get a little bit of nagging later. Thankfully you didn't have to stomach the situation too much longer as Charlotte began to cry. As Elvis tried to hush her and bounce her in his arms you smiled politely at the girls and made your way closer to Elvis.

As you took Charlotte from his arms you spoke softly,

"I think she's just a bit tired Elvis, I'll calm her in the car for a bit"

Elvis mumbled a soft 'Alright Hon', and caressed Charlotte's cheek gently with his index finger before leaning your way to kiss you. But, feeling as annoyed as you felt now, at the last second you'd turned your head, his lips landing on your cheek rather than your lips, his original target.

But he couldn't say anything as you'd already begun to walk off.

As soon as you slid into the backseat of the car, the driver asked where Elvis was. You explained that you and the little one were just resting up for a bit and that you weren't sure when Elvis would be through. Charlotte had calmed down and quite quickly fell asleep in your arms, the closing of her pretty little eyelids had marked the end of the party for you. You wouldn't leave your baby to sleep in the car alone, and you wouldn't force her to be awake for the rest of the party.

You didn't mind though as you felt all partied out yourself. As much as you hated to admit it, you don't think you ever could get used to seeing Elvis surrounded by girls and entertaining girls the way he'd been since his launch to fame.

You didn't think it was unfair of you to feel this way. It wasn't as if this was something planned when the two of you got together a few years ago. It was only recently that you'd had to start enduring Elvis Presley, the rock and roll heartthrob, and not just Elvis, the dorky boy who drove a truck and had a hard time putting together a neighborhood team to play football with him.

You closed your eyes with a sigh, resting a gentle hand upon your daughter's hair. You leaned your head against the car window, it was cold as the nights were beginning to have a little chill to them. The seasons were changing, and with them, so was Elvis.

Oh well, such is life.

-----

"…Just to the hotel Frank…"

You hummed softly at the familiar voice, pressing your head impossibly closer to the window as you tried to adjust to a more comfortable position. Just as you had settled comfortably back into the window a warm weight in the form of a hand pulled your head elsewhere. You were too tired to care, so you let it, your head soon resting comfortably on familiar broad shoulders.

That voice spoke again, but it seemed that in your half-asleep state, his voice kept coming in and out.

"…took me awhile, but… sorry… gotta entertain the fans…"

You felt annoyed by the voice interrupting your slumber, but you tried your best to ignore it after letting out a disgruntled hum.

It felt as though only a minute had passed since you'd gotten peace again before you heard that familiar voice, your husband's voice, whisper as his hand gently kneaded your shoulder, only now it was coming from the other side.

As you opened your eyes you saw the soft lighting of the hotel's sign lights spilling into the open door of the car along with Elvis' figure outside the car. Now it seemed he was holding a sleeping Charlotte in one arm as his hand tried to soothe you awake.

"C'mon Honey, we gotta get some sleep 'fore the flight"

You hummed softly and after mumbling a 'thank you' to your driver you got out of the car with the help of Elvis' steadying hand which naturally shifted to your hip after you were standing upright.

Elvis unlocked the room and kissed your cheek, mumbling something about the baby and Roberta, you were too busy on a mission to get out of this uncomfortable dress and still miffed at him, to care to process what he was saying. Your mission was to get to the bathroom to get ready for bed, as you made your way there you stopped by your suitcase to grab a short silk nightgown and your robe.

As soon as you stepped into the hotel's bathroom, and Elvis disappeared off to who knows where you could finally let out a breath. You were exhausted but you couldn't go to sleep just yet in your state. You tiredly shuffled over to the sink and began to take apart your pretty party appearance piece by piece. The hair clips that tugged at your scalp now rested on the sink, and the makeup that caked your face now caked a rag.

You struggled to reach the zipper of your dress, and for a moment your body went limp and you debated just going to bed in it. With your head hung tiredly and your eyes closed, you could've fallen asleep standing there had a set of familiar hands not graced your bare shoulders. Elvis' voice close to your ear as he asked through a smirk,

"Ya need help?"

You opened your eyes and looked at him through the mirror, you finally got a good look at him, his hair had been fussed with, could've been from him carding his hands through it throughout the night, or from one of those girls carding their hands through it. You nodded with a sigh, upset with him, but definitely in need of assistance.

As his rough fingers glided along your bare back before working at the zipper, Elvis' lips quickly fell to your neck, placing soft little pecks along the skin. You stared at him through the mirror blankly, and shook your head as you mumbled,

"Not tonight Elvis, I'm too tired…"

He hummed softly as the sound of the undoing of the zipper and the feeling of the dress loosening around your body filled your tired senses.

"Who says ya gotta put in effort Honey? I can handle ya the way I always do,"

You felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin as he murmured,

"I know how ya like it when you're tired…"

You sighed and tried pulling your neck away but his lips followed, and his hands began to explore you thoroughly as the only thing holding that dress on your body was his pressed so close against yours. You quickly stepped to the side, leaving him to shuffle forward as you were no longer there for him to lean his body against.

You kept a hand on your dress to hold it up on your body as he watched with furrowed brows.

"Elvis, I'm not in the mood for it tonight alright? We have a flight in a few hours, I want to get some sleep."

"Baby-"

Elvis reached his hand out to you but you took a step back and shook your head, a firm, "No, Elvis." leaving your lips as you walked to where you placed your nightwear with a hand still holding up your dress. Just as you began to head for the closed bathroom door he followed and asked,

"What's wrong Hon? W-what did I do to ya?"

His voice got louder as the confusion he felt was beginning to get him worked up,

"Seriously Baby, I took ya out to this nice party or fuckin' soirée or whatever pretentious bullshit you called it and this is the thanks I get?!"

You shoved him by the chest as you whisper-yelled, "You're gonna wake the baby..!"

Elvis scoffed as he took a step closer to you, practically caging you against the bathroom's door, his teeth were grit as he stared at you incredulously,

"You've been in a bad mood with me all night, seems like ya haven't even been listening… I told ya I was puttin' her with Roberta tonight! You would know if ya didn't have a stick shoved so far up your ass."

You stared up at him, feeling a pang of hurt at his words. He continued,

"Actin' like you're too good to talk to any of the fans. Spendin' all ya time schmoozin' with the rich old hags who don't give a rat's ass about me or my music"

You abruptly yelled back at him, staring daggers up at him through your teary eyes,

"That's why I was with those women Elvis! Because when I'm hanging out with them I don't gotta watch as they make goo-goo eyes at my fucking husband! I don't need to watch them paw and grab at the father of my child!!"

Elvis shook his head with a scoff and looked away from you, still keeping his hands pressed against the door, caging you in one spot. He mumbled something along the lines of "naggin' me like a jealous old wife…", a term that had only become a thing said in your arguments since Elvis' rise to fame.

You cupped his cheeks in your hand and pulled him to look at you, your voice shook as you affirmed,

"That's cause I am a jealous old wife Elvis… And had I known I would've turned out this way when I married you a few years ago… I…"

Your voice had dissipated before you could finish your sentence. You stared down at the tiled floor of the bathroom. Elvis was still wearing his shoes, whereas yours had been off the moment you stepped into the room. You could see the creases in the shoe of the foot that he was tapping nervously, and you could see the way your toes scrunched tensely.

The bathroom was quiet, and Elvis' voice which was once full of defense was now softened as he spoke quietly,

"Now, ya don't mean that Baby. You're just tired is all…"

He looked down at his shoes nervously and then at himself through the mirror on the other side of the bathroom. His hands that once caged you in landed ever so gently on your arms, his words came out through nervous stutters,

"You were right, we-we gotta catch a-a flight. Better head to bed,"

There he goes. When things get just a little too real, when the words are just a little too honest, and when reality is a little too close to crashing into the both of you, he expertly redirects it all for another time. Wanting to keep his schoolboy fantasy of having a little family of his own intact.

The little fantasy that he would whisper in your ear late at night in high school as the two of you squeezed into his twin-size bed, knowing if he talked at a normal volume the very thin walls of his house would give way to his voice waking his parents in the small room on the other side of the wall.

The little fantasy that he assured your Daddy would come to fruition if he got your parent's blessing. And it seemed so as you soon gave birth to sweet Charlotte, but just months after she was born you saw the first few strands of that fantasy being shot to hell as Elvis' talent had started being recognized.

And though it had only been maybe a year or two since then, you felt as though the boy you married straight out of high school was becoming a man you didn't recognize. And while you could keep the fantasy with Elvis going when the two of you were alone such as during the time you spent getting ready with him, it all crumbled bit by bit as his love affair with the fans and the public would disrupt his love affair with his wife. And he would let it.

So, I meant it when I said it was supposed to be a drabble, less than 100 words, short and sweet, as requested by a lovely anon. Don't know what happened...

[elvisabutler]

Austin!Elvis x reader - Elvis convinces the reader’s mom to let her stay at Graceland for the whole summer. You can do whatever you want from there.

queen of graceland

summary: your parents don't like elvis one bit. you do like elvis quite a bit. somehow you get your parents to allow you to stay with your boyfriend all summer. the two of you have a plan to make your stay permanent. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley rating: m pairing: austin!elvis ( 50's ) x female reader word count: 5007 ( do i have an explanation? no, no i don't. but welcome to why my requests take a hot minute i guess? ) warnings: p in v sex ( unprotected ). oral ( f receiving ). breeding kink. mutual weirdly wholesome entrapment. everyone is of age. going against parents' wishes. controlling parents. pregnancy. gladys' death is mentioned at the very end. mentions of elvis's close relationship with his mother. author’s note: first off anon! thank you for this request and saints preserve me i am truly sorry it took so long to get to it and it turned into- well this. so i got this before i did kinktober and blah blah we all know life is hectic around the holidays but once i realized this clearly is happening with an of age reader and all that jazz i had to pick an elvis and while i believe it can be agreed that this prompt lends itself well to a sort of dark ( or innocent tbh ) 70s elvis thing- my brain settled on this interesting 50s elvis mutual entrapment breeding kink thing that was originally a little darker but still has those morally grey tinges. i hope you enjoy anon, i did actually really like this prompt from the moment i got it. special thanks to @blurredcolour for being my 50s elvis woman always and my partners in breeding mrs. presley crime, y'all know who you are. and if you all so desire you can imagine elvis in this. but i did try and stay closer to the movie than i have lately on some of my specifically austin elvis requests as of late.

Your mama hates Elvis, it's a fact you've known since the moment she laid eyes on him when you brought him home. First it was that he wasn't good enough for her daughter, too poor, too stupid and too destined to be in the poor parts of Memphis until he dies. Then it was that he was too vulgar and too free wheeling and he was just gonna hurt you, besides what would he see in the girl he left behind at home. All the things she whispers in your ears aren't true because you know as well as anyone the Elvis is practically obsessed with you to the point of madness. It flatters you and delights you enough to make you want to keep him until the end of both your lives. It makes you want to claim him and keep him as your own, to be at home while he travels the states or to accompany him, whatever he wants and whatever brings you the most pleasure in your life.

These wants are how you found yourself practically begging your mother for permission to spend the summer at Graceland after Elvis has already plead his case. You're nineteen and an adult but you still live under your mama and your daddy's roof so their rules are law. And their main rule is one date every two weeks with you and your boyfriend. The concept of you spending an entire set of months with him is not one they're willing to easily agree to but you promise that no funny business is going to go on and besides, his own mama would rather die than have him do anything untoward to you. Nevermind that she's been pressuring him to put a ring on your finger since she realized that you were fine with how close they were, found it endearing and hoped, God willing that your own son and you would have the same sort of relationship. Granted, you were aware that it was unhealthy and all but- Elvis wasn't ever going to unwind himself from his mama so you dealt with it, you could deal with it and charm her to where she needed to be charmed.

Elvis doesn't waste a minute as soon as he sees you walking up the steps of Graceland, carrying two bags full of clothes you planned on wearing while you were there. He takes them from you despite your valiant protests and sets them down by the door the moment he shuts the front door.

"Can't believe you got her to agree to it." Elvis grins, practically bouncing on his heels. He looks like a kid in a candy store, like you've given him the best present you could have for his birthday, his Christmas, his everything. "Getcha all to myself all summer."

You move closer to him moving your hands to his hips and pulling him in for a kiss that's supposed to be chaste but- you've missed him too much to try, instead allowing your tongue to meet his and your teeth to pull at his lip earning a low moan from him as you pull away. "If you do your job right, it'll be longer than the summer, Elvis. I'll be here every summer. Every winter." You move one of his hands to your stomach. "I'll be here every second you want me and them to be."

His eyes widen just a hair before he rubs at your stomach, picturing you full of him, your stomach swelling with a baby or two he's put there. Picturing you going home to your parents only to be sent back because his child or children are growing inside you. The only thing that keeps him from pulling you inside and fucking you against the nearest surface is the knowledge that his mother and Mary and Grandma Dodger are in the kitchen but he moves closer to you anyway, pulling you inside as he nips at your ear. "That you askin' for a baby, Satnin? Askin' for me to fill ya up before ya go back to your parents? Make them see ya belong wit' me?"

You feel your arousal pool in your undergarments as you clench around air, wishing he was having sex with you already. Wishing you could feel his cock filling you up in just the way you needed. A noise of pure desire- a mix of a coo and a whine- leaves your mouth as you push him against the wall by the door. "That's me beggin' for one, El." Your own accent thickens, brought on only by the desire coursing through you at proving that you belong by Elvis's side.

Elvis looks like he's about to say something, or like he's about to lift you up against the wall- everyone be damned before he hears his mother shouting his name and he growls against your neck, allowing himself to at the very least shove his knee in between your thighs. Gladys comes around the corner, grinning and looking pleased as punch to see you even as you take just a second to grind on her sons' thigh as you smile over his shoulder at her.

"Y/N!" She shouts, starting to walk to toward the pair of you, causing Elvis to move his thigh from between your legs and turn to face his mama. "Bewbie, you were supposed to tell me when she got here!"

Elvis has the decency to look chargined for a moment, burrowing his face into your shoulder like a little boy and mumbling. "Mama- she just got here and I missed her."

"And you think I haven't?" She frowns, lightly slapping his arm and pulling you away from him. If she notices anything about his lower half she doesn't say anything, instead focusing on pulling you in for a hug. "A whole summer with us, oh- I was thinkin' I was gonna have to talk to your mama myself to convince her." She pauses and looks at Elvis. "You'd have thought she thinks my bewbie's gonna ruin you."

Elvis looks over at you as his mother just squeezes you in her hug. His teeth are biting into his lower lip as he tries not to laugh, knowing fully well that had she not interrupted you that he would have been well on his way to ruining you by the front door. Your smile back at him is full of promise and can barely be called a smile, edging more to a smirk than anything else. The idea is for him to ruin you this summer, you are both entirely aware that your parents will never let you be with Elvis as long as they live unless something drastic changes. Unless they're forced to allow him to be with you and while you like to think there's a better option, from the way you and Elvis keep looking at each other you both have come to the same conclusion, there isn't. He's never going to be good enough in your parents' eyes for their baby even if he makes all the money in the world or if he settles down and stops making that rock and roll music. No, he's always going to be that boy they don't like, that boy who'll only ever bring ruin to their baby girl. Even if that's the furthest from what he is, from what he wants to be.

In a perfect world, he likes to think he'd have you after seeing you dressed up all in white, looking a vision from the bible, all virginal and ready for him to explore in ways no one ever had or ever would after him. You'd be underneath him, writhing and panting in the way you do when you both get a little hot and heavy in his Cadalliac but he'd have you bare and so open to him. So open to be able to receive his cum, so open and ready to give him children so that he could see you swollen with him. So that he could see a little blond boy or girl suckling at your chest with you all sweaty after having brought them into the world.

in a perfect world, he likes to think the two of you would have a gaggle of kids after you got married and that he'd take them on the road with him. Get himself a bus like BB where he can just have you and his kids as a little moving sanctuary or maybe just have them at home with you taking care of them. He knows you might wanna work outside the home but he also knows that can wait, he could provide for you both and for anyone else for now. In this world though, in the world you both live in he has to find a way to even have you for longer than a summer and drastic situations call for drastic measures. The pair of you are so busy looking at each other that neither one of you are really paying attention to Gladys when she pulls away and says something to the both of you only to shake her head at how little you're both paying attention.

"Ignoring me because you can't take your eyes off each other-" She sighs a little, clutching her chest at the image. "I'll leave you two be, Elvis go take her things up to her room, show her what we set up for her."

You raise an eyebrow as she leaves and within a minute you're up against Elvis, grabbing both of your bags for him to take from you. "My room." You pause and giggle softly. "You mean the room that's just going to have my clothes in it?"

Elvis has to shut his eyes for a moment as he shakes his head, exhaling softly. "Darlin'- if you're lucky your clothes are gonna be there. I plan on havin' ya everywhere in my damn house."

A gasp leaves your mouth as he takes the bags and starts to walk up the stairs. "Everywhere in the house, El- what about everyone else."

He's silent as you head up the stairs and doesn't bother to answer your question until you're both safely in your room. The bed is simple enough, large enough for you and Elvis to be on it together easily and the room is surprisingly simple in decoration. Gladys' influence, you figure. The bags hit the floor with a thump as suddenly you find yourself being walked back to the bed. The back of your knees hit the bed frame and you let out a huff of surprise before flopping on the bed. Elvis doesn't miss a beat as he crawls on top of you, his eyes heady with desire.

"Satnin, darlin' they ain't here all the time." He starts before kissing at your neck, his hands moving to undo the buttons of your blouse with surprising ease. "And if you want to leave here with my baby in you, we gotta make sure there's enough of me in there. Gotta make sure you're full of me. Gotta make sure it stays and catches, like they all say it does."

A shiver goes through you at his words, your hands moving to undo his belt and pants, some sort of primal need overcoming your desire to say anything else. He's right and you know this. You know that there's no guarantee you'd get pregnant on the first try, that practice makes perfect and it wouldn't hurt to have him fill you up with his- release as much as he can. Yet, hearing the words come out of Elvis's mouth, hearing how he's going to fill you up has your body on edge, has it craving what he's offering. You faintly hear a chuckle as you struggle with the button to his pants and feel his warm hands- always so large- over your own, assisting you before you triumphantly achieve your goal. Your hand slips into his underwear, finding its way to his cock easily, feeling his foreskin and how dry it is before you pull his cock out. Elvis grabs your hand and spits into it, knowing that sometimes you forget to spit, forget that while his precum helps, the beginning part, this part depends on a little extra liquid.

"Don't hold back, darlin'." He mutters, seeing your lower lip caught between your teeth. "Gonna make you mine, wanna hear how you love it. How you would have sounded if we could do this proper with a wedding an' everythin'."

If you're embarrassed at the whimper, it doesn't show, the arousal starting to seep out of you becoming unbearable as your chest heaves just a tad. Elvis watches your breasts still in your bra bounce that little bit as your chest heaves and tries to focus on anything but your hand wrapping around his cock as you move your hand up and down for a moment before starting to pull back his foreskin. He hisses the second your thumb brushes against his tip. His precum makes it glide easily but- it's too much, he wants to be in you, doesn't want to waste a single drop down your throat or your hand or anywhere. Somehow his hand makes it down to your skirt, pushing it down with an ease he'll explain away later as just dumb luck. He knows fully well it's come from the few times he's had someone on the tours but he loves you- has loved you from the moment you agreed to date him but he was lonely. Somehow your underwear comes with the skirt and you find yourself shivering at the cold air against your pussy. Elvis looks down, his fingers sliding between your folds, marveling at just how wet you are for him. A growl leaves him unbidden as he moves to shoo your hand away from his cock and lines himself up with your exposed pussy, allowing himself to put just the tip in, feeling you stretch around him. He knows he should wait, knows that you've stretched yourself as much as you can playing with yourself over the phone while he pumps his cock in empty hotel rooms, but it's nothing compared to his cock inside of you.

His eyes dart across your face, asking for permission to push in farther and you nod just barely, your eyes shutting as you feel the burn of his cock in you. It's a uncomfortable but you manage, breathing through your nose as he takes his time. You figure this has to be torture for him, after all you had felt how hard he was, saw how red the head of his cock looked but he's still being gentle. He's still putting your needs so far above his own. This is what your mama doesn't see- the man who treats you like a goddess when he's fucking you for the first time. You roll your hips up, earning a groan from him as he increases his speed, taking your actions to mean he can. Whimpers and small tiny moans escape your lips, providing a small symphony of noise around you both as Elvis's lips smack against yours and against your skin and as your skin meets over and over again as his hips rut against you. Your brain floats the more you feel him, the more you feel a coil deep inside of you tightening, feel yourself inching closer to the edge. Your hands move to his back, pulling him closer into you before you hear him curse, and feel his hips rut a few times in quick succession before feeling a warmth inside you. Your own orgasm follows soon after, the moan that escapes your lips being swallowed by Elvis's kiss so as to not arouse suspicion of what you've done up here. Elvis stays on top of you, keeping his cock inside you even as he catches his breath and his hips still pump ever so slowly into you. Your ears faintly register a faint squelching noise as he does and you find that you can't look Elvis in the eyes, the noise somehow reminding you that this is an inherently filthy act. A moment passes of still hearing the noise before your vagina inadvertently clenches around him, earning a low growl and a biting kiss from Elvis.

It was like you were trying to suck him into you, trying to make sure no part of his cum or him would be free of you. You don't intend for it to be that way and yet it's how it goes, allowing you to hold him close as you both continue to catch your breath. The amount of time that passes isn't something either one of you pay attention to before Elvis starts to pull out, earning a whine from both of you as he does.

"Got me in a vice grip, Satnin. Gotta let me go, mama was cooking with everyone- gotta make sure we keep up our strength." He murmurs, kissing your cheeks, your lips and down your neck to your chest. "Gonna have fun tonight- play with those breasts of yours. Show ya how our baby is gonna eat from ya."

A low keen escapes your lips as you push him off of you, knowing that the way he's talking is going to have you pulling him back on top of you, ruining any hope you have of getting to stay the rest of the summer. Gladys may want you here but she doesn't know what her son and you have planned, how right she is about him ruining you. How with any luck, you'll be leaving with a baby in your belly that will round out your form and have your parents forcing him to marry you. A simple entrapment scheme- but one you and Elvis are privy to while either set of parents aren't.

It takes a moment before you and Elvis are put together and you hear Gladys calling for both of you as you're both smoothing out each other's hair, making sure it's just mussed and not completely giving away how fucked out you are. That it's not giving away how you feel his cum leaking out of you enough that you want to push it back in but know that it can wait. This time it doesn't need to take. Besides, if it did- why you think you'd be leaving with an already there bump, and that won't quite do. Elvis kisses you one more time, gently before grabbing your hand. "Come on darlin', gonna show ya how it's gonna be when you're here forever."

True to his word, Elvis does manage to fuck you in just about every place in the house, except for the few rooms that are off limits. Sure, the Colonel comes and has to have meetings and Elvis has to leave one week to record some music but otherwise, he's by your side unable to keep his hands off of you. Unable to keep himself from being in you the moment he can, there's even a moment while you're out on the porch with you in his lap and your skirt billowing around the two of you as he fucks you while watching the sunset. Your period doesn't come the last month you're there, and Elvis finds that any time he touches your breasts you hiss, swatting his hands away. He doesn't dare put into words what he's thinking, what you're both thinking until the hot sticky August day you have to leave. You're waiting for your father to come pick you up, sitting in the living room and Elvis finds his hand moving to your stomach, rubbing it, trying to feel out a bump he's praying he'll get to see soon.

"Ya think it took this time, darlin'? Think they're growing in there?" He murmurs giving you a soft kiss as he does. "It's out last shot, don't think ya parents are gonna let ya come back if they aren't."

One of your hands moves to cup Elvis's cheek while you place the other on top of his hand that's on your stomach. "I'm not gonna think about it that way, don't wanna talk 'bout it and then something happens. Have a little faith, El. You know I want this as much as you."

He nods exhaling shakily. "I-I know, just don't wanna think of a world where I don't get to keep ya. Where they keep ya away for good this time, ya- ya know I gotta do one of those tours soon and I wanna be able to take ya to see some places, baby."

Your lips quirk into a smile. "And you will. Faith, baby. Faith." A honk interrupts whatever you're planning on saying next and Elvis pulls away slowly, his hand reaching out to pull you up from the couch as he kisses you goodbye. "Make 'em send you back as soon as ya know, lil one. Please."

The only answer you give him is a nod as you rush out the door, carrying your bags and cooing a loud hello to your daddy.

Elvis- Elvis doesn't see you for another two months. Not intentionally on your part, mind you, but more due to the fact that your mother sees the signs and hopes and prays she's wrong. Prays that her fears won't be confirmed, that after she let herself be charmed by you and that stupid young man that he's ruined you. You've always stayed the same size, always been able to not need your skirts or your shirts changed since your waist and your chest settled into what they are. Yet, here you are, slowly filling out, your breasts pushing at the buttons of your blouses and your stomach starting to bloat. She thinks it's just your period only to realize it's not when you don't come to her as you would normally like clockwork. You're eating everything she puts in front of you and she swears on more than one occasion she hears you retching in the bathroom in the early evening hours.

It all comes to a head one afternoon with you on the couch, your hands settling on your stomach, highlighting a bump that's starting to form, that's beginning to be more pronounced by the day- that has her seeing red in her mind's eye. Her question is brusque and to the point.

"When was your last period?" She pauses. "Don't lie to me, Y/N."

In another time and place, one where you aren't secure in the knowledge that you're carrying Elvis's baby, you'd look away when you answer, too mortified to admit that Elvis got you pregnant because you wanted him to. In this time and this place, you press a little harder into your stomach, trying to protect your baby from your mother, lest she do something awful. "Three months ago. Maybe almost four, I lost count, mama."

All hell breaks loose after that, with your mama screaming and telling your father and calls to Graceland where you can hear Gladys calling Elvis's name sounding more angry than you've ever heard her. Throughout it all- despite it all, you're in your room smiling, talking to your stomach telling the baby that's growing in there that they're gonna meet their daddy finally. A week after you find yourself being driven to graceland in a coat to keep yourself warm in the cool weather while also hiding what's underneath from the fans gathered outside the gates. Your daddy leaves as soon as he sets your luggage down next to you, muttering about how he always knew that boy would ruin you and now he's gonna be stuck with him as a son in law.

The door opens to reveal Elvis looking like he's going to curse someone out before he realizes it's you. No words are exchanged as you open up your coat carefully and grab Elvis's hand to press against your bump. You're wearing a tighter blouse than normal to highlight it, and Elvis starts to breathe a little heavier taking note of just how much you've started to change in the months since he's seen you. He pulls you inside, grabbing the bags with a speed you marvel at before he pulls your coat off and takes a proper look at you.

You breathe slowly and Elvis swears he sees one of the buttons on your blouse look as if it's going to pop off before you smile ever so sweetly at him. "Mama hasn't let me get new clothes and- I wanted you to see what you've done to me." You lean forward, your lips brushing against his ear. "How you've ruined your sweet girl. Would have waited a little longer but I wanted you to see me grow."

His only answer in reply is lifting you up with a surprising bit of strength onto the dining room table, laying you out on it with your legs dangling at the edge, his head moving under your skirt. You can barely hear what he's saying as he kisses up your thighs but what you catch has you shivering in delight. "Made you better. Gave you my baby. Made it so your mama had to let you go. Get to stay with me. Be my girl, be my queen of Graceland."

You try and push him away, your brain reminding you that there's people in the house and you can hear cooking happening in the kitchen but your attempts are forgotten at the first brush of his tongue against your slit and the brush of his nose against your clit. He licks at you like a starving man, his tongue fucking your pussy like a pale imitation of his cock as his fingers play with your clit, rubbing and touching and even pinching in the way he's learned you enjoy. You bite your lip, whimpering even as you do, trying to keep quiet so that no one realizes just what Elvis is doing to you even as you barrel quick enough to your orgasm that it shocks you with the sheer force and speed it comes at you.

Gladys voice rings out as your chest is heaving and Elvis finds his way out from under your skirt, his face glistening as the door to the kitchen swings open. His mama sees you on the table and looks to her son, her eyes narrowing just a hair before she shakes her head. "Bewbie, you're- we gotta get you two married before you do anything else." Her face flushes just a little. "Off the table, Y/N. Let me see you and my little grandbaby you got growing here."

Her hands move to your stomach, feeling around like she's looking for something before her lips curl into a sad little smile. There's a moment where she looks like she's going to lean in to tell you what she's thinking before she stops herself and just pulls you into a hug. "I'm- We're gonna take good care of you here. Gonna make sure you and this baby have all the strength you need. I told Bewbie to marry you but- didn't think you'd both be so silly to do this to make it happen. It's alright- what's done is done and now we have this to celebrate."

And so life goes until everything comes crashing down with the papers and the Steve Allen show and Russwood- it all culminates in you seven or eight months pregnant, wishing you could drink as heavily as Gladys is when you hear your husband is getting shipped off to Germany. You promise to take care of his mama and promise to call him the minute you go into labor so that he doesn't miss seeing his baby born while in training. Yet, you find that you fail the first one so miserably when you come across Gladys on the stairs, slumped over, forcing you to call Vernon to help you with her. Not even the movement of the baby within you is able to rouse Elvis from his tears until the Colonel says something to him. You're hidden away from the cameras at Elvis's request. People know he's married, know that you are due to give birth any day now but beyond what everyone's already seen, he doesn't want anyone to see you, not right this moment, not when everything feels so raw and he's got to protect his only girl left- his queen of Graceland.

It's the day before he goes back to finish training when you feel the pain- when you feel your back and stomach twist and you moan in the bed, clutching at your stomach like that will help. This would be so much easier if Gladys was there, she could coach you through this. Elvis forces his way into the room, too scared to be away from the only Satnin he has left, too scared he'll lose you too if he lets you out of his sight. When you push out your first and it still feels like there's another in there- you realize just what Gladys had held back this whole time, too superstitious to even whisper to you that she figured you were too big for just one baby.

You name them Elizabeth and Loretta and Elvis promises to find a way to have you all brought to Germany with him. It takes a year but when you finally do see him again- when you finally both see each other again? You make a vow to stick to each other like glue if only because you're both so tired of being separated when there's no reason to be, no matter what the Colonel would like to argue.

And if perhaps your number of children shows that level of togetherness? Well. You can't very well be a queen without plenty of heirs, now can you?

tag list: @eliseinmemphis, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @aconflagrationofmyown and @butlersxbirdy, @lindszeppelin, @powerofelvis @floralcyanide seriously i never know who to tag in this and breeding kink is so iffy i apologize y'all and hey once again if you all want to be on my tag list ( in general, tbh ) just give me a heads up or a holler.

[headfullofpresley]

Hey, babe! 🥰

Saw you needed some scenarios 👀 and idk if this is cute enough but I've had this idea for a while and just haven't gotten around to writing it myself—what if reader found some old photos of E when he was younger, and he catches her looking through them and he gets self-conscious, because he knows he doesn't look the same and he knows reader could have anyone else if she wanted, but she reassures him and they end up reminiscing as they go through the photos together. 🥹

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

Word count: 3,2K

Warnings: angst-ish, Elvis feeling insecure, strong language.

A/N: thank you sm for the request, steph! i hope you like it, honey! 💗 the celine song was on repeat while i was writing this- i thought it fit pretty well. 😌

masterlist

“Mrs. Presley, I don’t think this is a good idea!”

Miss Jenkins called up to you from where she stood by the pull down attic ladder.

You managed to suppress a scream when you walked right through an old spider’s web and cleared your throat a little, shivering as you slapped it off of you.

“Don’t worry, Mary- I’ll be fine! It’s just.. very dark in here,” you made sure to lower the volume of your voice at the end of your sentence, but Mary heard you nonetheless.

Mary Jenkins loved you and she enjoyed having you around her whenever Elvis wasn’t home or sleeping, but you always came up with the darnest ideas.

Like on this relaxing Sunday afternoon where Elvis had some time for himself and was snoring up a storm in his bedroom, you decided you wanted to inspect the attic. When you told Mary and Minnie Mae that you had been hearing noises coming from up there and wanted to find out what it was, they told you not to do it.

Well, Mary told you not to, Minnie Mae cheered you on.

Graceland was built in 1939- there being wandering spirits wasn’t such a strange idea.

You liked the idea of it, but Mary did not like to mess with these things at all. Still, she wasn’t going to leave you all by yourself and stayed in her spot at the bottom of the stairs.

Partly to catch you in her arms if something would happen and you’d come down crying and screaming – which she knew was definitely something you’d do – and partly to keep an eye out if Elvis was coming out of his room or not.

“There’s a light in the middle of the room, pull the string if you can find it,” you did as she told you to, shuffling forward with your arms stretched out. “Oh, I really do think you should just come down, little girl. Mr. Presley doesn’t want you to go up there, you know that!”

Elvis did not want you to inspect the attic because he too has heard the noises and just like you, he was convinced it weren’t rats or mice. He told you to leave the spirits of Graceland alone, but he should’ve known that you weren’t going to listen.

“He’s asleep, don’t worry, Ma-AH!”

“What? Mrs. Presley, what happened?!”

You placed your hand over your heart, a headless mannequin standing in front of you, adorning one of Gladys’ dresses on the silhouette. Your adrenaline had grown tenfold, but still you didn’t come downstairs.

“N-Nothing- just another spider!”

“Hmmhmm,” she mumbled, obviously not believing a word you said. You were pretty sure she was rolling her eyes right now.

 

The lighting in the attic wasn’t much, but there was not much up there to see that you hadn’t seen yet. An old sofa that once stood downstairs, Elvis’ army uniform, some mannequins with Gladys’ dresses and a big, mahogany dresser- you smiled as you opened a few drawers and noticed Elvis’ baby clothing in them. You admired them for a little bit, until you spotted some boxes in the corner, propped up against the side of the dark Chesterfield sofa.

“Mrs. Presley, Minnie Mae needs me- I’ll be back in a minute. Please don’t stay up there for too long!” Mary yelled in a whisper as you sat down on the couch, waving some specks of dust out of your view while pulling the boxes closer to you.

You heard Mary shuffling away from the stairs, calling out to Dodger and you opened the first box. Inside of it were photo albums, a lot of them.

“Okay, Mary!” you yelled back, not caring if you woke up Elvis or not. You knew he’d forgive you for doing something he told you not to.

He was your husband, not your father.

Ofcourse, you couldn’t resist yourself.

You pulled out the first heavy album, placing it on your lap to open it. Despite the low lighting, you could make out that it was mostly pictures of Elvis’ parents, grandparents and other family members that you had never met. The pictures were old- the edges were frayed and in some were deep creases, indicating that they had once been folded and unfolded. Your smile grew as your eye fell on a picture of Gladys and Vernon, little Elvis sitting on their lap as he was shooting the camera a toothless smile.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, caressing your fingertips over it before you shut the photo album and moved on to the next one.

And the next one, and the next one…

Until you came across one filled with pictures from the 50s, from Elvis’ last years in high school and gradually going to when he was starting out his career.

You met Elvis in the early 70s and although you had seen pictures from when he was younger before, you hadn’t seen them all.

Mary startled you as she called out to you again and you quickly got up, shoving some albums back in the box though keeping the last one under your arm. You pushed the box back to the side of the couch and turned off the light, carefully climbing down the stairs.

“What’s the verdict, Mrs. Presley? Do we need a priest?” Mary grinned playfully at you and you frowned as if you had no idea what she was talking about.

Because of the pictures, you hadn’t even thought to check for mice or for ghosts.

“I don’t think so,” you then laughed, helping her push the ladder back up before you followed the other woman down the stairs.

Figuring Dodger was in her room and Vernon was in his office or at his own home, the house was silent. Extremely rare, but you liked it.

 

Mary joined you as you looked through the photo album together while nursing a cup of coffee. You giggled together as you pointed out Elvis’ boyish but flirty smirk in one of the pictures.

The both of you were so engrossed in the pictures that you hadn’t seen or heard Elvis wandering into the dining room where you were seated until Mary looked up and got up from her seat.

He told her to stay seated, but she just flashed him a smile as she told him she’d make him something to eat before disappearing into the kitchen.

“What are you looking at, baby?” he questioned as he walked over to you, his large hands engulfing your smaller shoulders as he stood behind you.

“You,” you grinned. As you looked up and behind you, you noticed his eyes were on the open photo album in front of you. He grimaced, though his features softened as he looked back at you.

“I told you not to go up to the attic,” he mumbled as he sat down in Mary’s seat next to you, keeping his eyes strictly on you.

You chuckled, looking at him with a small pout and a raise of your shoulders. “Someone had to check for mice,”

He hummed teasingly, squinting his eyes a little at you before he leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. “Ghosts, mice- same thing, right?”

You hummed in agreement as he laughed softly, his arms snaking around your waist to pull you onto his lap. He gently leaned his chin on your shoulder and closed the photo album.

“Why are you even lookin’ at that? It’s just old, boring pictures,” he mumbled, trying to distract you by moving your hair over your shoulder and hiding his face in your neck, his lips parting against your heated skin to lick that little sensitive spot underneath your ear.

You would’ve given in any other time – it was hard not to – but Mary was right there in the kitchen and you weren’t done looking at the younger version of your husband that you never got to experience in real life.

“They’re not boring, Elvis!” you protested, raising your shoulder again to get him out of your neck. You opened the photo album again, flipping to the page you had been looking at before you were interrupted. “These are really beautiful memories, you should treasure them, not put them up in the attic- besides, you were really handsome,”

He scoffed, looking at the side of your face as he squeezed you in his embrace. He could practically see hearts popping out of your eyes and drool dripping down your chin.

“Were, huh?”

“Oh, you know that’s not what I meant,” you shushed him, waving your hand before you leaned your elbows on the table, happily looking at the pictures of your boyfriend posing with his car.

If the comment hadn’t struck some kind of nerve inside of him, he would’ve grabbed your hips and thrusted his hips upwards against your ass that was currently sticking out, but it did.

He didn’t know why – he did, but he just didn’t want to admit it because he knew it were his own damn insecurities coming out to play – but your words made his mood drop in a matter of seconds. Grabbing your waist, he got up from underneath you and pulled the album toward him as he stood next to you.

You sat down on the chair, looking up at him with confusion written on your features. You could see his mood had shifted, you just didn't know why.

“I told you not to go to the attic, so why would you do it- why don’t you listen?”

He kept his flat hand on top of the photo album, preventing you from taking it back when you tried. You scoffed and got up, folding your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just the attic, Elvis. You’re acting like you have some kind of gold treasure hidden up there,”

You had to surpress an eye roll, knowing that would get him even deeper in whatever emotion he was feeling.

“It’s just a bunch of old stuff up there, like this,” he tapped his fingers against the book, placing his other hand on his hip. “And the lighting up there is bad, you could’ve hurt yourself, Y/N,”

“Well, maybe I like old stuff,” you smiled as you took a step closer to him, your hand sneaking to the photo album. “I like you, don’t I?”

The words flew off your tongue before you could stop yourself. But that was who Elvis and you were- you’d tease the hell out of each other and your age difference was usually the main subject.

You’d call him an ancient old vampire and he’d call you a child, putting on Sesame Street during your movie nights.

And you could always laugh about it together, but right now, laughing was the last thing he did.

Grasping the album from the table, he turned around and stormed out of the dining room and up the stairs.

 

Elvis didn’t know why he was acting the way he was. He knew you- knew your jokes and what your personality was like and most importantly, he knew you loved him.

You had told him so many times, showed him so many times. You were the type of girl that would bite someone’s head off if they said something nasty about him, even stuff that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about. You were always there to stand up for him even though he could handle it himself perfectly fine.

But seeing you look at those pictures of his younger self, seeing you swoon over them, it made the demons in his head overrule the rational part of his brain.

Because he didn’t look like that anymore. He didn’t have the same body, nor the same face, nor the same hair. His body had gotten fuller and let’s be real- who would be happy about that?

Ofcourse he knew that you loved him for who he was and that you thought he was attractive, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you wished he was a little skinnier, maybe even a little younger.

A knock on the door startled him as he was sitting up against the headboard of the bed, looking up at a random show that was playing on the ceiling TVs. He knew it was you, so he mumbled a soft “come in”.

“I come in peace,” you announced yourself, stepping inside your shared bedroom with a tray full of food Mary made. He didn’t say anything, instead turning his head back to the TVs.

You put the tray on the bed as you crawled onto it on your own side, sitting on your knees. Smiling at him, you pushed the tray closer to him.

“’M not hungry,” he mumbled, grabbing the remote to absentmindedly switch the channel.

“Liar,” you squinted your eyes at him, catching him off guard as you snatched the remote out of his hand and turned the TV off, throwing the remote to the end of the bed. He sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the bed as he closed his eyes.

“What’s going on, Elvis? I know this isn’t about me going up to the attic,”

He sighed deeply, opening his eyes. He didn’t want to look at the food nor at you, so he opted for the black tv screens. You hated when he was this distant, because it usually meant something was wrong and in this moment, you had no idea what happened that got him to this point.

Moving the tray further away from the both of you, you crawled closer to his side and lifted his arm, forcing him to put it around you. Leaning against him, you put one hand on the side of his neck, your fingertips pressing against his jawline to get him to look at you.

He was resisting.

“Elvis, I know something’s up, but I’m not a mind reader,” you whispered, the teasing tone of your voice nowhere to be heard. You were getting a little worried now, because truly upsetting him had never been your intention.

For the first time since you came into the room, he looked you in the eye. A heavy sigh slipped past his lips and his arm that you put around your own shoulder squeezed you into his side a little firmer.

“It’s.. it’s those damn pictures,” he eventually admitted, his voice a mere whisper. “Ofcourse they’re great memories- I looked good, I looked better,”

You frowned, moving your hand down his chest as you sat up a little, looking at him as if he had just grown two heads. “Baby, you still look good,”

He scoffed softly, shaking his head as he looked down at your hand on his chest, placing his own atop of yours. “Hardly. I don’t look like that anymore, Y/N.. and when I saw the way you were looking at ‘em, I-I don’t know.. You can easily find some better looking fool- you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,”

You shifted your body, sitting back on your behind on the soft mattress to properly face him. You laced your fingers together with his, slipping your other hand in his as well.

“I don’t want any other fool, Elvis, only the one I already got,” you smiled softly at him, squeezing his hands firmly.

He sighed deeply, his thumbs rubbing the back of your hands as his eyes watched the repeated motion.

You hated to see this was bothering him so much. If only he could have a peek in your heart, then he could see it was full of him and only him. He stayed silent, so you continued, wanting your husband to know that you loved him more than life itself.

“Elvis,” the serious expression on your face made him a little nervous. “I love you for you- not for your body, or anything superficial like that. To me, you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but I fell in love with you, your soul..” you managed to release one of his hands, flattening yours against his chest. “… your kind soul and heart. Even though I can tape you to the ceiling on some days, you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met- you put up with me on my worst days, you’re always here for me and that’s why I love you,”

“You mean that?”

“Ofcourse I do, you silly man,” you laughed softly, moving to straddle him. Gently cupping his face, you grinned and pecked his lips. “Besides- Elvis in the 50s was cute, but he could never handle me,”

He watched with an amused look on his face as you threw your hair over your shoulder and fluttered your eyelashes at him. Laughing, he pushed you against him by placing a hand in between your shoulder blades and hugged you tight. “I love you, little one,”

“I love you too,” you hummed, pecking his lips once more as you pulled back from the embrace. Getting off his lap, you grabbed the photo album he had put at the foot of the bed and the tray of food, putting it on his lap. You sat next to him again, with the album on your lap.

“Now, let’s look at these pictures and I promise you I will make fun of every single one of your outfits,”

“Hey! There was nothin’ wrong with what I wore!”

“I meaaaan…” you opened the book, pointing at a picture of him on stage dressed in the gold lamé suit.

He ripped into a piece of bacon, grimacing at the photo before he looked at you. Giving you a nod and a small shrug of his shoulders, he agreed. “Fair enough,”

 

Elvis knew he had to get over himself and he was glad you were there to help him with it. You loved him and only him- you didn’t care about the clothes he wore, the size he was, or the wrinkles he inevitably was going to get.

You loved his style through all the years, but you kept making jokes here and there about some pictures to lighten the mood and he appreciated it. He’d joke along with you, or tell you stories about something that happened before, during or after a show or the backstory about certain pictures.

Being there with Elvis at the very start of his career sounded exciting – at least, from the stories he told you – but he was doing great things now as well. He was still making his fans happy with new records and live shows, or simply by chatting with them about their personal lives if he had the chance to.

Your husband was a person with layers- sometimes that manifested in moments and outbursts that were not so pretty, but most of the time it manifested in kindness and empathy.

So, yes; young Elvis was amazing. A trendsetter, if you will. That twenty something year old changed people’s lives even though he might’ve not realised it (and probably still doesn’t now).

But the man that was currently laughing at a picture of himself and telling you the funny story that went along with it was extraordinary.

No matter what he looked like, you thought the world of him. And if there was any possible way for you to give Elvis Presley the moon and the stars, there was no doubt you would.

Taglist: @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @woundmetender @returntoelvis @prayerstopresley @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @notstefaniepresley @wonka-gifs @ellie-24 @dollksj @webbedwebs @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley

[powerofelvis]

No Longer The Housewife, Part 2

Pairing: Elvis Presley x f!reader; Austin!Elvis x f!reader

Word Count: 7.2K

Summary: Your husband is looking for you but you are too enamored with Elvis to care. However, you would soon learn that you shouldn’t have been in Las Vegas in the first place. 

Warning(s): There are some TRIGGER warnings in this part. Physical Assault, Use of A Gun, Profanity, Angsty asf, SMUTTYYYY, Oral (m.receiving and f. receiving), masturbation (f.receiving), Foot Kink, Exhibitionism, Elvis gives reader slight aftercare. 

A/N: I honestly hateeeee part of this, but I hope you guys are ready because it is very angsty and spicy. Make sure you guys read the trigger warnings before y’all dive in because whewwwww I literally had to think about how I was going to implement the husband and let me tell you, he’s dog shit in this part. I hope you guys enjoy ;)

read part one here.

masterlist.

Saturday rolled around too fast for your liking. You already knew that you would have to face Elvis after you told him that you would stay the night in his arms. Pulling yourself up in your bed, you looked over to see that Lindsay wasn’t in bed beside you. Maybe she went to breakfast; you thought as you got out of your warm bed. The cool air from the air conditioning system caused goosebumps to form on your skin as you stood in the middle of your hotel room, only dressed in your nightie. You decided to get ready for the day, walking into your shared bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and you wished you were shocked by what you had seen. Elvis did a number on you the previous night–neck covered with purple-ish marks and little scratch marks that littered your skin. If you were any other vanilla woman, you would have been uncomfortable with the sight. However, you weren’t vanilla, and you wouldn’t become vanilla now. Your fingers brushed over the marks, wincing as some of them were tender to the touch. Your mind went back to the previous night in Elvis’s penthouse–him taking you over and over in different parts of the suite and especially the hot sesh on his piano. Your head was so buried in your thoughts that you didn’t notice your hands moving slowly down your body before your fingers rubbed at your now-sensitive bud.

After your masturbation session and a hot shower, you were finally dressed and ready to go for the day. At that time, Lindsay had returned to the room, so she wanted to know how your night with Elvis went. You sat on the bed with her, not sparing the details of the racy night of lovemaking that you had experienced with him. “Oh, Y/N! You can’t leave him after he made you feel that good! You must continue seeing him or something; screw your bonehead of a husband.” Of course, she would have said something like that. Lindsay couldn’t stand your husband, and yet she is trying to convince you that the only way out of your dead-end marriage was to continue with an affair with the most lusted-after man in all of America. You wanted out of your marriage more than anyone, wanting to escape from the misery that your husband has bestowed on you since he entered your life. You wanted nothing more than to be with Elvis completely, watching him perform every night before he took you until the sun rose in the sky the following day. 

Lindsay had convinced you that a day out would be something that you needed, so you followed her around the Vegas strip as she wanted to shop for the second show of Elvis that you both would catch later. You were completely unaware that your husband was trying to find you, calling your family and your other friends to see where you went off to. He wasn’t pleased that you left, especially without your ring. The ring that he paid for signaled that you belonged to him. You were his wife. He may have slept around with a few women, but he felt as if you should have been grateful that he came home to you at night. You should have been grateful that he laid beside you every night and was there waiting for you the following morning. He wasn’t a complex man, all he wanted was his wife to cook and to clean, maybe even satisfy him. All he asked in return was that his wife wouldn’t abandon him, like you were doing. He had found out from your small circle of friends that you had gone to Las Vegas with that bitch, Lindsay. 

How he hated Lindsay. 

Lindsay was the reason that you were so unhappy with him. She never made it unknown that she hated him, but he could say that the feeling was fuckin’ mutual. In his eyes, she was a whore who always tried to convince you to leave him and become a whore like her. You weren’t a whore, you were his good girl; the reason why he decided to marry you in the first place. He knew how easy you were to manipulate, but he couldn’t help but admit that you were the love of his life. He played on the emotions that your family felt about you being married so young, but he knew all along that Lindsay didn’t buy it. He could care less though, as he only wanted you to believe him. He wasn’t marrying Lindsay, he was marrying you. So why were you running away from him all of a sudden? He wondered if you ever did like how he never wanted you to work, wanted you to stay at home and keep up the house. Any woman would like that, right? 

He may have been wrong to step out on the marriage and maybe slap you around a bit, but he wasn’t a horrible husband like the others were painting him out to be. He took care of you, making sure that you never had to work a day job in your life, while working his fingers to the bone. How could you run away from that? Who would want a woman who doesn’t even know how to work a fax machine? He does, so off he went to Las Vegas to bring you home. He finally made it to Vegas earlier that morning, stepping out of the airport with a look of disgust over his features. Out of all of the places that that whore could have brought you, she brought you to the whore capital of the United States. Your parents would have been shocked to hear that you were parading yourself around Vegas with your shitty friend, possibly waiting for another man to pick you up. He hated the thought of some greased up hooligan running his filthy hands over his woman, but he wouldn’t have to worry about that because you were faithful to him. 

Even through all of the times that he knew that you caught on to his cheating ways, you never left him before. He was frightened to say the least, the thought of him being alone without you bothered him. This is why he has to find you, he has to make things go back to the way that they were. He was comfortable with what he was doing, sleeping around but cuddling with you at night. He wouldn’t dream of tainting you with his dirty habits, which is why he hasn’t touched you in about a year. As he walked along the strip, he could have sworn that he saw you with Lindsay, your nervous energy he could spot from a mile away. He didn’t want you to know that he was in Vegas, so he stayed hidden but he knew that he saw you. The outfit that you wore sent his blood boiling. You never wore those types of clothes with him, but even if you did, he wouldn’t have liked it. He followed you around town as you and Lindsay shopped for clothes, overhearing how you were going to look amazing for the show that was happening later that night. What show? He had to find out, so he stuck around you for the remainder of the day. 

He found out that you were going to see Elvis Presley in concert, like you had the previous night according to Lindsay. Why were you going to see such a washed-up musician in a seedy town? Why did you look so in love when you talked about him? He could tell that you were in love with Elvis as it was the same look that you used to give him. Used to. You never looked at him in that way, only giving him glares or the resting bitch face when he would come home. Were you whoring yourself to this Elvis fellow? The blood continued to boil in him as he stomped off to get a room at the hotel that the show would be happening—the International. Once he got his room, he spent hours pacing as he thought about what he had overheard from you and Lindsay. You were definitely whoring yourself to him, you had to be. The only reason you would wear the loved on look that you had was if he had pleased you in some kind of way. He knew what Elvis Presley was about. His parents used to warn him to never become like him, a sex crazed maniac with the power to make women turn into whores. He wasn’t about to let his wife become one of his whores. Something had to be done. 

***

Lindsay pulled you into all of the shops that littered the Vegas strip, making you try as many skimpy outfits that you could fit into your hands. “Remember Y/N, you have Elvis Presley under your thumb. You have to make him want you more.” Her smirk turned your stomach upside down as your thoughts once again moved to the events that happened last night. Elvis had definitely brought out the fire in you, the fire that you didn’t know that you had. You had to see him again, but you were afraid of what he would think. He probably had already figured that you were long gone from his arms and he was probably upset about it too. You didn’t know how you were going to make it up to him, but you wanted him to know that you enjoyed yourself with him. You knew you sounded like other women who had their hopes up when they were with him, but you didn’t care if you sounded crazy when you thought about staying in Vegas for him. You wouldn’t tell Lindsay that because she could make an inch into a mile with hopes. You found the perfect outfit that you were going to wear later on that night, pulling Lindsay towards the front of the store before paying for it. “You’re right, Linds. I have to make him want me tonight, but I am still going to have to find him and apologize.” You just hope that he was willing to listen. 

You and Lindsay returned to the hotel soon after, your heart immediately fluttered as your footsteps walked towards the elevator. You wanted so badly to press the button to the penthouse, but you had to get ready for the show later. You shook the thought of Elvis out of your mind as Lindsay pulled you into your shared hotel room, forcing you to put all of your energy into knocking Elvis off of his feet. The dress that you bought was tight in all of the right places, your curves making themselves known. The material was mesh, showing a bit of your skin but only a tease. You placed your feet into your black heels, before walking into the bathroom where Lindsay was—teasing her hair. You stood next to her, beginning to work on your makeup. You settled for the exact replica that you had worn the night before, but you focused more on covering up the marks that Elvis had left on your body. A knock on your hotel room door broke the both of you out of your routine, Lindsay leaving you in the bathroom as she went to get the door. 

A black haired man stood before her, sunglasses clad over his eyes but he was staring right at her. “Is Y/N here?” He asked, eyes raking over her body as he was clearly enamored with her. “Yes, she is. Who is asking?” She asked, catching your attention as you walked out of the bathroom, eyebrows raised. His eyes moved from Lindsay to you as he smiled. “Elvis is looking for you. I’m here to take you to him.” Your heart picked up speed, immediately nervous about meeting with him. You nodded your head, grabbing your clutch off of the bed before walking up to the door. Lindsay stood there with a bright smile on her face, clearly enjoying that you had a man who was sending members of his entourage to pick you up. You glared at her, whispering in her ear, ‘calm down, I’ll see you later,’ before you followed the mystery man out of the room. He told you as you both entered the elevator that his name was Joe. “Pleased to meet you, Joe. What does Elvis want with me?” You wanted to know what to expect before you stood in front of the man who had the world in the palm of his hand. 

Joe shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the wall as he pressed the penthouse button. “He just told me that he wanted to see you. Whenever he wants something, we do it. No questions asked.” He chuckled, noticing that you were a bit nervous. “Did you do something that makes you all jumpy like this?” He poked into your mind, wanting to know what you had done to be nervous as you were. “I-.. I just want to know if he needs anything, that’s all.” You turned away from him as the penthouse floor flashed on the elevator’s wall. The doors opened as he walked off out, turning to you before urging you to walk up to the door. “Well, whatever you two have going on, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Joe laughed out, knocking on the door before he walked off in the opposite direction before disappearing from your sight. The door opened, revealing Elvis in all of his glory. He immediately brought a smile to your face as he opened the door wider so you could walk inside. “I woke up and you weren’t here, lil’ mama. What happened?” Elvis closed the door after you walked inside, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest. 

He smelled magnificent, the scent of tobacco and a hint of cinnamon hit your nostrils as you took him all in. Part of you wanted to tell him that you ran away because you didn’t want him to get caught in your secrets, but you were so scared that you would lose him that you coward away from the truth. You weren’t ready to tell him, but you knew that you had to eventually. So, you turned around in his arms, your eyes moving from the ground up to his blue eyes that were staring intently at you. You could tell that he knew something was up, but you wanted to reassure him that nothing was wrong. You put a wide smile on your face before wrapping your arms around his neck, standing up on your toes—leaning into his embrace. “I didn’t want Lindsay to freak out if I didn’t go back. I know I promised that I would stay, but if you want, I’ll stay tonight.” The voice in your head laughed at your poor excuse. You’re such a liar. 

Elvis believed you. His bright smile spread across his face as he leaned into you, pressing his soft lips against yours. You were glad that he didn’t ask further, running your fingers up the nape of his neck before resting them in his locks. He tasted amazing, something that you missed so much as the visions of his body over you came creeping back. You pulled away from him, taking him by the hand before pushing him in the loveseat that sat near the piano that he had graciously taken you on the previous night. Elvis chuckled, reaching over to grab the already lit cigar that was in the ashtray. He stuck it in between his teeth, manspreading as his eyes clouded with something that was normal for you at this point. You got down on your knees as you crawled over to him like a lioness stalking her prey. Elvis was your prey and you were ready to pounce. You didn’t know what he had over you, but you were willing to embrace your wild side when he was around. 

Your hands rubbed up his legs before stopping at his thighs, your eyes watching him as he sat there, puffing away on his cigar. His head was thrown back as a smirk crossed his lips, waiting for you to continue. Your fingers danced across his thighs before you grabbed his bulge that was proudly growing in his jumpsuit. You swore that you heard his breath hitch, but he never showed that he was affected as you unzipped the material. You pulled his erection out of his jumpsuit, wrapping your lips around the tip. Elvis hissed, pushing you to push him inch by inch into your mouth. You knew that he had a show that was soon, but you wanted him to relax. All the nervousness he may have been feeling should be released from his body, along with other things. Your mouth worked his cock, moaning as one of his hands moved to rest on your head, pushing you deeper on his cock. You gagged but quickly composed yourself as you took all of him inside your mouth. 

“Goddamn, baby. You know just what I need.” He praised you, watching with a smile as you sucked him off. Your hand moved to wrap around the base of his cock, the other moving to fondle his balls as you continued on through his moans and praises. You pulled off of his cock, gathering spit in your mouth before letting it fall down his cock. You wrapped your mouth around his cock once again, lapping up what you gave him, smirking as he lost his mind with how dirty you were being. “Fuck, you’re my dirty girl, huh?” He pulled up off of his cock again, spitting on his cock as well. “Lap it up, slut. My little cum whore.” He let your jaw go, pushing you on his cock once again where you did exactly what he told you to. The slurping noises picked up as your head moved up and down his length. Your hands still fondling his balls, you knew that you were driving him closer to his orgasm. His cock twitched in your mouth before he spilled in your mouth, grunting loudly as you continued taking all that he gave you. 

You sat up as you opened your mouth, showing that you were holding his cum. He tapped your jaw, indicating that he wanted you to swallow all of it. You smirked, closing your mouth as you swallowed his cum, putting his cock back into his jumpsuit before zipping him back up. He finished up his cigar, putting it out before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. Elvis pulled you up to sit on his lap, nuzzling against your shoulder. “What did I do to deserve something like that, baby?” You looked down at him, running your fingers up across his chest—playing with the chest hair that sat prettily. “I want you to enjoy your shows tonight, relax. Everyone is gonna be there to see you.” You wanted him to know that you would be there to see him. As if on cue, a knock on the door broke you both out of your romantic stupor as you slid off of Elvis’s lap. Elvis stood up from the loveseat before crossing the room, opening the door to see Jerry and Joe standing there. You waved at them, rocking on your feet as Jerry told Elvis that it was time for him to head down because the show was about to start. 

“C’mere baby.” You didn’t need to be told twice before you were immediately at Elvis’s side, gripping your clutch in your hands. “Jerry is gonna take you down to meet with your lady friend. We have a table for you and her so I can see you. I’ll see you later, okay?” He pressed his lips to your forehead, pushing you gently out of the penthouse as he and Joe walked in the opposite direction, disappearing once again from your sight. Jerry escorted you down to the showroom, your eyes immediately found Lindsay who stood next to the table you assumed was where you were going to sit. As you neared the table, you swore you could feel familiar eyes watching you, but you chose not to pay it any attention. You sat down at the table, conversing with Lindsay as you waited for the show to begin. 

***

What you didn’t know was that your husband was also in the showroom, standing in the back of the room, watching you. He managed to get a ticket for the show tonight after hearing that you would attend earlier. He was still boiling with anger, watching as you giggled along with Lindsay as you waited for the show to start. He found a table that was out of sight for you, but he was still willing to keep his eyes on you. Once the show was over, you would know that he was there. The lights lowered as the music picked up, your husband’s eyes moved between Elvis and your table. He wasn’t impressed with the show, never being a fan of his music but he had to admit that he must have had a hell of a talent to have women throwing themselves at him. He noticed that you were also acting like those women. He didn’t like it one bit. You would soon learn that he didn’t like this type of behavior that you were exhibiting. You would soon go back with him and he would never let you out of his sight again. 

He gripped the glass of the whiskey that he had ordered, downing the liquid as he gained alcohol courage for later. As the show moved on, the anger in him brewed and brewed until he was unable to keep the look of disgust from his face as he watched you and your friend swoon over the dancing man that was performing on the stage. As time went on, he didn’t realize that he had ordered more glasses of whiskey until his vision was getting blurred. He had to stop himself from drinking as his anger grew from the fact that you were enjoying yourself more than he was. You should be enjoying yourself in the comfort of his home, sitting with him and lusting after him. However, that was not the case. Elvis soon exited the stage, walking in the crowd as he kissed the women who wanted it. Your husband scoffed, not understanding what women found so attractive about him but he sure as hell wasn’t impressed. It was until he saw Elvis walk over to your table, placing his hand on your face and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that his anger blew out of the top. He was so angry that he felt that he had steam coming out of his ears. 

Once Elvis walked away from you getting lost in the crowd, your husband decided that he would make his move. He stood up from the table, walking over to your table. “So, this is where you are, baby.” He spat, smirking angrily as he noticed how shocked you were that he knew where you were. He grabbed your arm, yanking you from the table as he pulled you out of the ballroom. He ignored the screaming of Lindsay who was telling him to let you go and the pleas of yours—crying that he was hurting you. “I come home after working all fucking day to you gone. I find out that you’re in Vegas with your whore friend and now I know that you’re whoring yourself to see Elvis Fuckin’ Presley.” He stopped, turning back as he saw Lindsay tugging you away from him. He stopped in his tracks, shooting a glare toward Lindsay. “Let her go, bitch. You took my wife away from me and now you want to interfere? You’re so fuckin’ lucky that I don’t fucking call the law on you.” He pulled you away from her, pressing the elevator button before pushing you inside of the elevator—Lindsay begging for him to let you go as the door shut in her face. 

***

You struggled against your husband as he pulled you into his hotel room. When did he arrive in Vegas? Why was he there? “Honey, please. Let me go, I’ll go back with you. Please.” You begged as he pushed his room door open, throwing you inside. He walked inside, slamming the door behind him as he rolled up his sleeves. You gulped, knowing that he was going to punish you. He gripped your hair tightly, tilting your head back as he looked over your face. “So, you came here to Vegas to fuck that washed-up pervert?!” His hand came across your face so fast that you couldn’t blink as the pain made your ears ring. You fell backward, pushing away from him as you whimpered. “Please, I’m not doing anything. I just came to-….” You couldn’t continue with your excuse as he pulled you up by your hair, pushing you onto the bed. The bed bounced as you pushed yourself up in an attempt to get away from him. Your husband was not having it, pulling you back to him by your legs as he sat on them. “I didn’t know I married a whore.” His fingers caressed your cheek as his other hand held your arms. “I didn’t know your parents raised a fuckin’ whore.” The hand that was once caressing your cheek soon wrapped around your throat, squeezing a little too tight for your liking. 

You gasped, jerking underneath him as your oxygen was cut off. In your mind, you were begging for anyone to help you. You were begging Lindsay would get you some help. You were begging that Elvis would come to save you. You knew, you wishfully thought, as you knew that nobody usually saved you from the wrath of your husband. Your husband moved his hand that was holding your arms, punching you across the face as his other hand still choked you. You couldn’t do anything but cry, wondering why you didn’t leave the country instead of coming to Vegas with Lindsay. You were getting beaten and strangled in your husband’s bed, but no one could save you. As he sat above you, punching and slapping your face as well as choking you, you were fighting back with everything that you had. Your hands were pushing your husband’s face, scratching him across the face as you managed to get his hand from across your throat. You coughed, your oxygen coming back as you screamed out with the little voice you had. “Help! Help me!” 

Your husband chuckled as he held your cheeks in his hand, glaring down at you. “No one will help you, bitch. I’m going to show you who you belong to and news flash, it’s not Elvis Presley.” His hand connected with your face once more and you heard a snap. The fucker broke your fucking nose, but you were so numb to the pain that it didn’t phase you. You were only worried about saving your life and not being found dead in a huge hotel in Las Vegas. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please stop!” You begged, now sobbing as you covered your face with your hands, which was becoming soaked with your blood. At that moment, you were sure that you were gonna die and you wouldn’t even be able to see Elvis again. The exact time that your husband was torturously assaulting you, Lindsay had found Joe. She was crying, trying to explain what was happening with you. “Doll, you’re gonna have to calm down. What’s happening?” Lindsay wasn’t sure where you were, but she wasn’t going to stop until she made sure you were safe. 

“Y/N—is in trouble! Her husband has found her,” Lindsay started, noticing that Joe’s eyes widened. “H-husband?” He asked, shaking his head. “Long story, but he is probably killing her! We have to help her! He is so abusive to her; he literally will kill her if we don’t help her!” She sobbed, trying to get Joe to do something. Joe nodded his head frantically as he tugged her with him as they went off to find Elvis and the others. Joe led Lindsay to the dressing room where Elvis was after finishing up the show. Jerry was standing at the door, turning to look at the both of you. His smile fell from his face when he saw that Lindsay was crying and Joe was visibly angry. “What’s going on?” He started before looking back at Lindsay. Joe explained what was happening, noticing how Jerry’s face paled before he turned to knock on the door. “Hey, EP. We got a problem.” Elvis opened the dressing room door, immediately noticing that the aura was off. “What’s—where's Y/N?” He asked, eyes locking to Lindsay who clearly didn’t have Y/N standing next to her. Jerry leaned in, whispering the situation in his ear. Elvis’s fists clenched as he pushed past everyone. Joe and Jerry followed behind him, knowing exactly the reason why Elvis was upset.

Your husband had finally gotten tired of beating you, laying beside you on the bed as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You silently sobbed as you laid there, sick to your stomach. You were sick to your stomach because you were laying next to your husband, sick to your stomach because you were covered in blood and bruises, and most importantly you were sick to your stomach because in the midst of it all, you missed Elvis. You wanted Elvis to come rescue you and in the back of your mind, you knew that he would. There was suddenly a knock on the door, and you sat up in bed. Your husband grumbled as he sat up with you, yelling at the door. “I asked not to be disturbed!” The knock came once again, causing your husband to stand up and walk to the door. As he opened it, a gun was placed against his forehead. You gasped, sitting back against the bed frame as Lindsay ran inside of the room. You reached out for her, sobbing in her arms as you watched the scene in front of you. Elvis walked into the room, followed by Joe and Jerry with his gun pressed against your husband’s temple. 

“You son of a bitch! You like beating women? You like hitting on MY woman!” Elvis gritted, his blue eyes were painted over with fury, and at any moment, he would have snapped. “She’s my wife! What in the hell do you mean, ‘your woman,’ Your husband spat at Elvis, careful not to say anything crazy as Elvis still had the gun pressed to his head. Elvis chuckled darkly, pressing his tongue in his cheek as he pushed the safety down. You gasped, closing your eyes as you feared that Elvis would kill him. The look in his eyes was so deadly that you were sure that the room would be covered with his brains if he wasn’t careful. “Do you think that I give a fuck that she’s your wife? After today, she’s going to be my wife. You don’t deserve to have her after the shit that you’ve done to her. I know all about you putting your fuckin’ hands on her, forcing her to stay at home while you go out and lay your dick in other women.” Elvis walked your husband backward to the nearest wall, still pressing the gun to his temple. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t blow your fuckin’ brains out all over these walls? You’re gonna leave Las Vegas tonight and crawl back into whatever fuckin’ hole you came out of, and you’re gonna leave Y/N alone. You ain’t gonna show your face back here ever again, or I will fuckin’ kill you. You hear me, ‘ya son of a bitch?” At that moment, he pulled the trigger, but it clicked. Your husband looked like he could shit an egg out of his ass. 

Elvis laughed, smacking your husband’s face lightly before rearing his hand back—connecting his fist to his face. Your husband fell down on the floor, holding his cheek as Elvis climbed over him. The punches kept connecting to your husband’s face as Lindsay helped you out of the bed. Joe rushed over to the both of you as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you out of the room—the sounds of your husband’s groans echoing in your ears. You called out for Lindsay as your vision started to blur. You hadn’t realized that you had lost a good amount of blood until you passed out in Joe’s arms to the sound of Lindsay screaming your name. 

When you came hours later, you were in Elvis’s bed. It was still the dead of night, but you could tell that the sun would rise soon. You winced, feeling your head pounding and your ears ringing. Your mind returned to your husband pounding into your face hours earlier, the fear jolting you out of the bed. “Woah, baby. Relax.” A soothing southern accent stopped you in your tracks as you were thinking of taking off once again–escaping from the wrath that your husband had inflicted upon you. “I know you ain’t tryna to leave me again, honey.” Elvis placed his hand on your shoulder, spinning you around; his blue eyes were once again looking into your soul. Although you knew that your face was covered in scratches and bruises, Elvis still looked at you as if you were beautiful. “Gee, honey. I hope you didn’t come here to think that you could come into my world and then leave. How long have you been dealin’ with that son of a bitch?” You were taken aback by the question as you thought that he would have asked about you hiding your marriage from him. “You’re not going to ask about why a married woman is sleeping around with you?” Your voice shook as your arms instinctively wrapped around yourself. Elvis laughed, leading you back over to the bed and sitting you down on the edge.

“Honey, married women are the least of my problems. There have been plenty who have wanted to be in your position, but none of them have made it past one night. D’ya know what makes you different? You have that fire in your eyes, as I do. You want something better for yourself, which is what  I like about you. So no, I ain’t askin’ ‘ya about why you are sleepin’ with me. Unless you want to tell me that yourself?” Elvis looked over you with a look of understanding before sitting beside you. You took a deep breath before you started your story. You had met your husband when you were a teenager and immediately married him, but deep down, you did not want to. You told him about how your husband made you stay home while he was out sleeping with other women but would come home and beat you, even though you did nothing wrong. As you were talking, you noticed that Elvis’s fists were clenched–white-knuckled, and his jaw flexed. You placed your hand over one of his, reassuring him that you were okay. “I shoulda’ shot that bastard back there. I didn’t want to scare you off.” He pulled you into a hug before he kissed your forehead. 

You melted into his embrace as he kissed down your face, running his fingers over your bruises. You winced, cowering away from him. “I’m sorry you had to save me back there. I feel embarrassed.” You shouldn’t be here with Elvis right now, as you thought that your husband was surely going to find you again. “If you think that your sorry excuse of a husband is going to find you here, he’s not. Joe and Jerry took care of him.” He spoke as if he read your mind. You instantly relaxed, not caring where he was. You were done with him as far as you were concerned. Your husband had ruined your life for far too long, so now it was time for you to live for yourself. Elvis continued to be attentive to your needs more than your husband had ever been. The thought of this made you feel warm inside, so you leaned in pressing your lips to his softly. Elvis stilled before pressing his lips back to yours gently, careful not to hurt you. He pushed you back to the bed, moving his lips down to your neck.

He traced the hand print that was around your neck, grimacing as he thought about how your husband could have killed you. “That bastard, I should have killed him.” He repeated, pressing soft kisses along your skin, licking and nipping at your collarbone. “I think I’m going to worship you tonight. Don’t need to worry your pretty little head about pleasing me.” He whispered, pushing your straps that held the dress to your body down your shoulders. As the straps fell down your shoulders, his lips chased them—nipping and licking at your skin again. He smirked, noticing that purple marks that littered your skin that he knew came from him. As Elvis removed your dress from your body, you shivered with anticipation as you watched him continue to kiss down your body, undoing your bra before throwing it on the floor. He pecked around your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple. You could have died and went to heaven at that moment. His mouth felt hot on your skin, pushing you to release a whine from your lips.

Elvis continued to show your breasts much needed attention, but you were needy for him. You needed him to assure you that he would protect you. “Please, Elvis.” You whined but you knew he wanted to take care of you tonight. You pushed the urgency of having him inside of you aside as your eyes continued to watch him, kiss and lick down your body once again. His fingers quickly pulled your panties down off your hips, throwing them down where your bra now lay. His lips wrapped around your budding bud, fingers rubbing between your folds. Your arousal was beginning to pool around your walls, slowly oozing out of you. Your back arched off of the bed as he slid two fingers inside of you. Your folds fluttered around his fingers as your own fingers found their way into his hair. Your moans grew louder and louder. You didn’t care. You were deep in pleasure, ignoring the pain that was screaming all over your body from the abuse your husband gave you. You lived for the pleasure mixed with the pain, remembering how Elvis was close to shooting your husband earlier. Your pussy fluttered again with the thought, whimpering curses under your breath as he continued to eat you. 

Elvis enjoyed the sweetness that was coming from you, lapping up the arousal that was pooling on his taste buds. He moaned, sucking your pulsating bud, spreading your legs wider as his fingers fucked into you. “You want me badly, dont’cha baby?” He teased, licking around your pussy lips as he pulled away from you; continuing to finger fuck you into oblivion. Your orgasm was growing closer and closer, your toes curling into the sheets as you continued whimpering louder. Elvis pulled his fingers from you before you could cum causing you to groan out in disbelief. He tsked as he kissed down your leg as he pulled your foot up to his face, pressing kisses along the padding of your toes. You gasped, not used to the feeling as he kissed up the side of your foot. Elvis smirked, wrapping his lip around your big toe, playfully moving his tongue around it. Your body arched off the bed again as Elvis pulled your toe out his mouth. “Touch yourself, baby. I wanna watch you cum.” 

‘Your hand moved down to your clit, rubbing in a circular motion as Elvis continued to wrap his lips around your toes. You never knew that Elvis was into feet, but you would be lying if you didn’t find the idea arousing of Elvis licking and sucking your toes. You would even entertain the idea of giving him a footjob later, if he wanted. As your brain replayed the moment of Elvis scaring your husband with his gun, you chased your high as you continued rubbing your clit with your fingers. “Fuck Elvis! You were so hot today, scaring my fuckin’ husband with your gun.” You whimpered out, not caring that it could have ruined the moment. Elvis’s brow raised as he smirked at your words. “Yeah? You loved seeing me take care of your husband for hurting my woman? For thinking that he could take you away from me?” He continued kissing at your toes, his eyes not leaving the sight of you pleasing yourself. “Use your other hand to finger yourself slowly, baby. Don’t rush..” He commanded as he moved away from your foot, getting on his knees—only watching you. You groaned, throwing your head back against the bed as your fingers continued to rub at your clit, the overstimulation at its full peak. You could feel all of your orgasm pushing forward like a train, the urge to pee crashing over your body as your hips lifted off of the bed, your juices shooting straight into Elvis’s face. You screamed at the top of your lungs as your legs continued shaking and your orgasm continued to crash over you. “Holy shit, mama! ‘ya fuckin’ covered my outfit with your squirt.” Elvis chuckled, standing up from the bed as he unbuttoned his blouse. 

His chest glistened with the mixture of his sweat and your juices, which you couldn’t help but to stare at his dark hair that littered his chest. You collapsed on the bed, trying to catch your breath as the pounding of your heart took over your hearing. Elvis walked away from the bed, heading into the bathroom as he wiped himself off with a towel before he headed back towards the bed, where you laid. He leaned over to your lips, pressing an passionate kiss to your lips before he wiped the glistening arousal from your thighs and your pussy. “Get some rest, mama. Tomorrow, we have a lot of things to do before we get you settled to stay here.” Your brow raised as you looked over at him. After everything that happened tonight, Elvis was still willing to allow you to stay by his side. He was willing to help you escape your husband. Your eyes fluttered as darkness surrounded you. Somehow, as you slumbered beside Elvis, you had never felt more safe. You were never safe with your husband–the bruises and scratches were proof of the pain and anguish that you lived with. However as you laid in Elvis’s arms, snoozing away, Elvis made it his business that your husband would never touch you again. He was going to make sure of it, even if he had to handle it himself. 

Taglist:

@aconflagrationofmyown @lindszeppelin @headfullofpresley @venus-haze @ash-omalley @oh-my-front-door @oh-kurva @loving-elvis @lovininapinkcadillac @ep-supremacy​ @sournatromanoff @woundmetender @rainydayz101 @aysiiarenee @godlypresley @bisexualwvtson @samfangirls @missmaywemeetagain @literally-just-elvis-fics @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @rosaminny @foreverdolly​ @austinbutlersbaby​ @ggwritesstuff​

[emmie-tt]

Revenge

Elvis Presley x wife!reader

Elvis Presley x Wife!reader : he 0verd0ses at a show and you finally realize what's going on

WARNINGS: drugs, cussing

Y/N POV

As I stand side stage watching my husband I cant help but notice a few things...His balance is..off? He keeps stuttering and tripping over his words. The sweat is pouring down his face and its like he cant breath.

I look over at Jerry who also has a worried look on his face as he watches his best friend, he makes eye contact with me before walking over. "was he not feeling good or something?"

I shake my head no "he was fine...i-i don't know whats wrong.."

He sighs and grabs my hand leading me back to a more secluded area "i'm gonna tell you something but you've gotta promise to not freak out.."

I look at him confused "what? what's wrong?"

Jerry sighs "the colonel he...Elvis has been working himself to the point of exhaustion so the colonel has been having Dr. Nick perscribe him Modafinil...i-it's a drug that keep's you awake and stimulates your nervous system bu-"

I cut him off "I'm sorry what?! They've been giving him what?!"

He covers my mouth "y/n! shhh! Listen to me, freak out when I tell you why I think he's acting like that."

I sigh and move his hand off my mouth but let him continue talking "Elvis took 5 before the show...they are high dose tablets h-he might be overdosing.."

My eyes widen and that's when I hear gasps from the crowd and a thud, I immediately go back to the side stage to see my husband laying on the stage breathing heavily

My feet start moving before I can even register what's happening. I kneel down next to Elvis and gently push his hair off his forehead "Elvis!"

His shaking hand reaches up and rests on my cheek "h-hey now..n-no need for t-he tears pr-pretty mama..."

I smile softly as I gently stroke his hair "I n-need you to keep your eyes open for me okay? Stay awake El.."

He nods as his breathing picks up, I watch as he fights to keep his eyes open...inevitably loosing the battle as he goes unconscious

I look at Jerry who's on the phone with 911, I feel for a pulse and let out a sigh of relief when I feel one, it's light but there.

I look up when I hear a cane, my gaze immediately hardens as the colonel walks over to us. He goes to touch Elvis but I smack his hand away, I stand up "do. not. touch. him."

He look's at me with wide eyes "excuse me little girl. who do you think you are talkin' to me that way hm?"

I scoff and push him back watching as he falls. "I'm his wife. And i'm telling you right now if you so much as look his way i'm gonna be your worst fucking nightmare. do. not. underestimate me."

I turn and look at an officer who gently grabs my hand "ma'am, please calm down..."

I pull my hand out of his grip and watch as they wheel Elvis off on a gurney "don't tell me to calm down! this man- this monster has been pumping drug's into my husband and now- now I could loose him! So no, I wont calm down!"

Jerry walks over "y/n...let's go, we can deal with him later...Elvis needs you.."

I take a deep breath and wipe the tears off my face before I nod and walk off out to the ambulance

-TIMESKIP A FEW HOURS-

Y/N POV

I pace back and forth in the private waiting room as all of the Memphis Mafia and Elvis's parent's (cause I refuse to believe Gladys died 😭) sit waiting.

My head snaps over to the door when the doctor walks in "is he okay?"

The doctor nods "he's still asleep but he's gonna be fine...he's very lucky"

I walk over and hug the doctor tightly as I listen to Gladys cry out thanking the lord, I whisper my thanks into the doctors ear before pulling back

The doctor nods "you can go see him- two of you can go see him..." I nod and take a deep breath as the doctor walks out

Gladys stands up and walks over to me "lets go see our boy"

I nod smiling as Gladys hugs me tightly, I wrap my arms around her hugging her back

We make our way to Elvis's room and walk in as soon as we get there. Tears start falling again when I see him...Guilt and sadness hit me all at once..

"How did I not notice this..?" I walk over and sit down in the chair next to his bed and gently grab his hand

Gladys shakes her head and sits in the other chair "This isn't your fault. He's always been good at hiding things"

I sighs and lean back in the chair closing my eyes the exhaustion of everything hitting me all at once

-TIME SKIP A DAY-

I hang up the phone with Priscilla, who has been watching the kids while I stay with Elvis in the hospital, I sigh and lean back against the wall. He still hasn't woken up and my anxiety has been at an all time high. My hands run down my face and I walk back to his room only to find the doctor and nurses surrounding his bed

I walk in "w-whats happening? is everything okay? is he okay?" that's when I hear a chuckle...

The nurses move away from the bed and I make eye contact with my husband. Tears immediately start flowing down my face

"hey now mama. no need for tears, i'm alright" My body filled with relief as I heard the voice I had missed more than anything.

I walk over to the bed only for him to pull me down ontop of him. I go to sit up but his grip on me tightens as my sobs grow louder. "shhh.. my love, i'm okay. settle down now..i've got you..."

My arms wrap around him and I bury my face in his neck as he continues to comfort me. I take in his scent and his warmth and allow it to comfort me and bring me back down to earth. "i hate you..."

He laughs and kisses the top of my head "I love you to mama..so much"

I sit up still sitting on him "why- why wouldn't you say anything?"

He sighs softly and rests his hands on my hips "i'm sorry...i didn't want to worry you..and i just didn't realize it was getting bad..."

I sigh and lean down kissing his lips "i hope you know I fired the colonel..and Dr. nick...also might of threatened to kill him when he showed up here"

He laughs again and pulls me down to lay on him again "that's just fine with me..."

TAGS

@future-corpze @father-of-2cats

[ophelia-writes-stuff]

♥ remember you . oneshot ♥

. pairing : austin!elvis x fem!reader

. summary / request : finding out that your pregnant is an exciting thing-- for most. but with your boyfriend set to go off to war for two years, you worry over whether or not it's the right time to start a family. (request by @diamonddiv245)

. notes / warning : pregnancy, mentions of war, mentions of periods and all that stuff, slight angst, tooth rotting fluff, swearing, happy ending, more may be included.

. word count : 2k

(♥) . . . request something . masterlist . taglist . navigation

It had been about a week since your period was presumably due, and you were starting to get worried.

Of course, tracking it was always a tricky thing-- it was normal for the dates to fluctuate and for it to come later or earlier than usual, but considering what you'd been up to in the past month, you were beginning to consider that its lateness may have been caused by something else more serious.

Plus, the occasional throw-ups truly only seemed to be there to prove your point.

Elvis had been your boyfriend of five years, and counting. Although most couples didn't last so long, especially after having gone through high school together, the two of you were practically inseparable.

You supported Elvis through his career, coming on any trips you could, but most of the time, you had to stay at Graceland. His mother, of course, didn't mind your company at all, and you made sure to keep her company and to help her around the house. Especially now that she was drinking more and more, you'd keep a close eye on her more often than not.

But, even with the support from your family and his, you knew that a child going without a father for the first two years of its life would be cause for disaster. Him going off to Germany was bad enough-- but the chances of you having a child during that time? You could only worry about the outcome.

Elvis wasn't home when you slipped off to the doctor's to take a pregnancy test. Your heart beat erratically in your chest as you drove off, your nervousness almost causing you to crash several times. You did, however, manage to get there in one piece.

Taking in a seat in the waiting room (as you'd already spoken to the lady at the front desk), you fidgeted idly with your hands, clothing-- really anything you got a hold of.

"Y/N L/N," a monotone voice read out.

Your stomach filled with dread.

Slowly, nervously, you entered the doctor's room. You were met with an average looking man, presumably in his thirties, who greeted you kindly.

"Take a seat."

The process was quick enough. He asked you to pee in a cup so they could have a urine sample-- which, gross-- but you did it anyway. You listened intently and quietly as he explained the process of how the test worked, that is, until he spoke of when you'd get the results.

"We'll give you a call in about two weeks to tell you if the test is positive or not."

Time seemed to stop. Two weeks? How were you supposed to keep that information from Elvis for two whole goddamn weeks?

"Um, okay, thank you."

The doctor smiled at you reassuringly, and you did your best to return it before beelining straight for the door. The hospital was causing you much too much stress and anxiety.

Shit, shit, shit!

What were you going to do? You didn't want to just tell Elvis that you'd taken the test before you got the results-- you didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. But, then again, he did deserve to know. He was to be the father of whatever child you may or may not have.

Elvis wasn't home for most of the first week-- something about needed to get more press (you never really knew when it came to the Colonel)-- which, you supposed was good. It gave you time to try and decompress due to the whole situation.

The second week, though, Elvis was home most of the time, making sure to make up for all his time spent away from you and Gladys. It was nice, too, having him home, though you did find that his lack of knowledge of the situation was starting to weigh on your conscience.

"Hey, Elvis, what are your thoughts on a family?"

The question seemed to catch Elvis off-guard, who stared at you in surprise for all but a fleeting moment.

"You mean havin' a family of our own?" You nodded. It was then that a smile slowly crept onto his face.

"Well, I s'pose I wouldn't mind having some little Presleys running 'round the house." His grin only grew wider when he paused and stared in your direction. "And I quite like the ring of Mrs. Presley for you, if you know what I mean."

You let out a chuckle at his statement, and he did the same, before capturing your lips in his. He was sly, just barely parting your lips before slipping his tongue inside you mouth, causing a small groan to escape your lips.

He then slowly pulled away, opting to rest his forehead against your own. "After the war," and there it was-- those words that you had been dreading for him to say. "I'm gonn' come back, I'm gonna give you the bestest welcome any man's ever given to his woman, and I'm gonna marry the shit outta' you, until even the Lord is on his knees in awe."

And, in spite of the new sinking feeling in your stomach, you couldn’t help but feel your grin grow wider as you nodded, before pressing another kiss on Elvis’s lips.

The evening that you got the call, Elvis wasn’t at home.

For the past day or so you’d been camping by the only telephone in the house, picking up practically every call that rung. You were sure you already knew the answer, anyway– your period had still not come, putting you at nearly a month past your due date.

When the phone rang beside you, you were quick to pick it up. You didn’t get so much as a word in before the person on the other end spoke, “Hello, is this Y/n L/n?”

You eyes widened as you nodded, before you let out a small laugh. You’d momentarily forgotten that the person on the opposite end could not see you.

“Yes, who is this?”

“Ms. L/n, this is Dr. Owens! I’ve called to inform you that your results are positive! Congratulations!”

Your lips parted in surprise. Of course, you’d expected as much, but hearing it confirmed by someone else made it feel all the more real.

“Uh, thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it.”

You hung up before he could respond.

You let out a dry chuckle, no humor evident in it. Just my luck. Of course you got pregnant right before Elvis went to war. And– what, you only do it a couple of times and this happens?

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about having a child before, in the future. With Elvis’s whirlwind of a career and the fact that he was shipping off to Germany for two years, the least you thought you could do was wait until everything died down and you could settle down with him.

It was then that you heard the front door open and close, and in came Elvis, battered and tired from a presumably long day. Speak of the devil.

Upon seeing your form curled up on the couch, Elvis offered you a kind smile. “Hey baby.”

Walking over to you and giving you a tender kiss on your forehead, he was surprised to find that you leaned away from his touch. You didn’t mean to, of course, but you couldn’t help it. All your pent up guilt over the past was starting to fester– and Elvis, being the cause of your guilt, made you almost instinctually pull away from him.

“Baby?” Elvis’s voice was soft, gentle as he sat down beside you and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Is anythin’ wrong?”

You stared at Elvis and your lips parted, as if to say something, before you slowly closed them and shook your head. “It’s nothing.” Elvis, however, didn’t seem convinced.

“Bullshit.”

You stared at him wide-eyed. “What?”

“I call bullshit. You ain’t been acting like yourself for weeks now, Y/n. I know there’s somethin’ you ain’t tellin’ me.”

You sunk into yourself. “I told you, Elvis. It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Upon seeing your conflicted expression, Elvis let out a small sigh. “Look, Y/n, you don’t have to tell me now, but whatever this is, it’s obviously botherin’ you, and you’re going to have to tell me at some point.”

You bit your lip before you spoke. “I’m pregnant.” Your voice barely exceeded in a whisper, and you silently wished Elvis wouldn’t be able to hear you.

He, of course, did, and, eyes widening, said, “What?” At his surprised expression, you felt a hole grow in your stomach, though it was soon filled as Elvis’s face of surprised was slowly replaced by a wild grin. “Baby, why didn’t ya’ tell me earlier?– That’s amazing!”

“So you’re not– mad?”

Elvis let out a laugh, “Mad? Why on Earth would I be mad?”

“Well, uh, you’re–” You were momentarily cut off by a sweet kiss to your lips, catching you off-guard as you let out a muffled moan. Elvis, in response, only laughed more before reluctantly pulling away. “Sorry, baby, I just couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

“Now, what were you saying?”

“Well,” you felt that pit in your stomach return just as it were before. “Elvis, you’re going off to war for two years. I’m not exactly sure if this is a great time to start a family.”

To this, Elvis paused, deep in thought. “Well, you were talking about startin’ a family before, right?” You nodded. “Well, every family has its challenges. My daddy went off to prison, and I had to start workin’. And your mama– she died when you were just a young girl, didn’t you say?” At the mention of your mother, your eyes floated to the ground in shame, though Elvis was quick to gently tilt your chin towards him. “Baby, I’m sorry, but, look– all I’m trying to say is, we’ve both had challenges once it’s came to family, and that’s all this’ll be. Another challenge.”

“Another challenge,” you echoed, allowing your mind to wander.

“And– look, I’ll call you every day to ask you about our son or daughter, and I’ll send you presents all the time, and I’ll visit whenever I can, alright?” Your eyes were distant as he spoke, and you were only startled out of your thoughts when you felt a hand gently squeeze your own.

“You hear me, baby?”

“Um, yeah,” you said, nodding. “Okay.”

Elvis smiled. “Good.” He then pulled you in for yet another kiss, this one longer, before slowly placing a hand over your belly. “You know, I think this one’s gonna be a girl.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmm, I can feel it.”

You allowed your smile to linger for a while before you were harshly brought back to reality. “Elvis?” Your voice was once again quiet and meek as you whispered out his name.

“Yes?”

You took a deep breath. “What if you don’t come back?”

It was then that Elvis’s voice grew dark. “Now, darlin’, I love you beyond belief, but I don’t want to ever hear those words come out of those pretty lips of yours again, you hear me?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Well, it’s just–” You sighed. “I don’t know, I just… They’ve been talkin’ about the war getting worse and worst, and I… I guess I just don’t know what I’d do without you– what we’d do without you.”

“Listen here, okay? I ain’t never leaving you, Y/n– or this baby, you got that? I will go to the ends of the Earth and back just so I could be back with you.”

Silence. He allowed the weight of his words to sink in.

“Do you promise?

To this, Elvis could only laugh as he spoke his next words. “‘Course darlin’. I promise.”

want to join my taglist?

taglist: @iloveaustinelvis, @powerofelvis, @kendralavon7, @austinstyles, @bobthefishiesworld, @ramirezb-blog1, @itlover8000

[babylovepresley]

thinkin’ about you — elvis presley x reader

summary: you are elvis presley’s former lover… at least you think you are. the year is 1960, and he is finally returning home from the service… but you haven’t heard from him since the day he left memphis and got on that plane nearly two years ago. what is left of you both?

word count: 2k

content warnings: 18+ sexuality mentioned, ANGST, possibly an unhealthy relationship, references to religion and god

read & listen along: https://open.spotify.com/track/1fDFHXcykq4iw8Gg7s5hG9?si=c2I7yoRJQMOSZEIrxLHCsg

writer’s note: hiya lovebugs! this is just a little something i conjured up when i was supposed to be doing homework (hehe), and i thought perhaps you’d all like to suffer with me. it’s not my best work, as i have had quite an overwhelming day and this is the best i could produce. this is my first fic posted, and i truly hope you all enjoy! remember requests are always open, and i am forever sending you all plenty of love and light!

dedicated to: my darling friends that promote my obsession with writing angst, though it hurts them in the end <3 (@eliseinmemphis my sincerest apologies lover)

It’s a cold day in March when he comes home; his hair wispy and long, touching the tip of his forehead beneath the large issued cap. When he first went away, the cap seemed to swallow his sleepy head and make him seem like the boy I first met all those years ago— when life was kind and he smiled with his tongue between his teeth. A patron moves to turn the television up, standing on the counter and nearly knocking over a young man’s grits that sat untouched on his plate. The soldier huffs and puffs as the camera follows him; his lean figure cutting through the tv and leaving an ache in me heart. Did the scars from our childhood playing wear off? Did the inside of his left pinky still glow red and raw from the movement of his ring? Does he still think of me?

He swallows, and my own throat constricts watching him. Life had become so difficult after he left— the beginning of us did not matter, I only wanted to get through to the end. And now we’re here, or rather he is. All I can do is stand and watch in our hometown diner, as he glows for the entire world. My coworker comes up beside me, placing her tray down on the crowded counter and side eyeing me.

“Yes Minny?”

“Sugar, I hate to do this… ‘specially today of all days… but—“ always walking on eggshells, Minny was. In fact, I’ve noticed that every other waitress today has been side-eyeing me with pity; wondering what I must have done to him to be here instead of greeting him with open arms, perpetually on my knees for him. The truth is I never did anything to him… and I guess that’s why he never found it important to write to me.

“You need me to close… don’t you?” I smile. I didn’t have it in me to be cruel right now, though I wanted to scream and cry can’t you see I’m busy lamenting a man I don’t know anymore?

“I’m sorry y/n, it’s just that my daughter wanted to stop by the Graceland gates tonight to.. well.. you know…” she trails off, itching an imaginary scratch behind her neck. It isn’t her fault that her daughter looks at him the same way I did, or still do. It’s been a long time since I’ve laid my eyes on him, and I wonder if they still fill with the warmth and affection I once saw him have for me.

“It’s okay Min, I don’t mind at all! I’ll probably just make a cup of tea for myself and clean the jukebox tonight… have a feeling I finally wanna clear out a certain someone’s records….” I giggle, though I’m laced with a bitter agony in my throat; I never wanted to hear his voice again, but I know one sound falling from his pouty lips would cause me to stare in adoration and declare my god, where have you been?

I turn my head back to the television, because I simply cannot bear not looking at him… not after three years of staring out the window and praying to God that he’d somehow be sitting outside my door, waiting for me all the while. He has changed so much; poised and gifted with the confidence that can only affect a young boy who dreamt of the strength and masculinity he exudes. He left me a scared boy, with heavy shoulders that I ached to massage into a restful stature, and came home a man; broad and unashamed. I simply can’t wrap my head around it as the camera pans to his face, spotted with the cold sting of snowflakes as he nods his head in thanks. It’s ridiculous.. I feel jealous of a force of nature simply because they get to live and die on him; when I have faced far more triumphs and little deaths as a result of his person.

Still, he looks afraid as he shuffles through the crowd of women waiting to grab at him. I feel nauseous just looking at it, and I find myself tugging at my uniform in an attempt to deflect from the obvious want situated in each woman's eyes. Many years ago, I would’ve moved through the sweaty crowd gathered by the gates of that airport, and used my handkerchief to wipe the nervous sweat on his eyebrow; my hands ever-so delicate on his cold cheeks. And he’d look up at me and smile, the apples of his cheeks pressing his eyes into a squint; “you miss me lil?”

But now I stand here, as unknown to the world as the words he said to me the first night he pulled me by bare chest to his and mouthed a sonnet only he could tell. Memphis has changed, he has changed, but I haven’t. Maybe that’s why he didn’t write. Maybe that’s why I’m living in the in between; Elvis’ girl or not? Lover or former flame?

The hours pass by with the creaking stools signaling the end and beginning of each meal, my nails making a dull clack against the cracking counter. Before I knew it, the street lights flickered to life, and my coworkers' cars pulled out of the lot, blowing kisses out their windows in a silly “goodnight!” gesture. The diner is lonely without the murmuring of the town, but I find it to be deeply comforting while I clean. The TV has been turned off, and the jukebox unplugged, leaving me with nothing but my pitiful thoughts and slight hiccups as I cry and clean the corner booth.

In the midst of my cry, for him, for me, for his Mother, and for any semblance of a future I had once dreamt of, I failed to notice the front door being pulled open and the slight ting of the bell. The wind from outside climbed my bare legs as I wiped, shouting out a quick “We’re closed honey, I’m sorry!”. Why look up when I always know who it’ll be— whether it be a neighbor, the town drunk or a church choir member.

“Oh… ‘m.. ‘m sorry” the stranger stumbles out, and I can physically feel the soft tapping of his loafers on the sticky linoleum floor. I’d know that voice in death, when the grim reaper kisses me goodnight, I’d be begging him “please.. let me hear his breath one last time”.

With all of my strength I turn to him, staring down my old hero. My spray bottle has long been abandoned, spilling on the floor beneath me and wetting the tips of my white shoe. I couldn’t care less. Nothing could’ve stopped me from following his voice— nothing could have prepared my heart for the sight of him in front of me. I feel the ache of my brows pulling down on my face, and the cold air drifts through my parted lips to remind me that this is real… he’s here. After all this time, he’s here. I’m silent as I watch him distribute his weight; left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

“Ya see me on TV today lil?” His thick voice cuts through the air; still gravelly from the cold morning air he sucked in earlier that day. A part of me wanted to coddle him; coo “oh poor baby” for the pain in his throat. But the other part of me wanted to laugh in his face at the incredulous question. In the end, that’s just what I did.

“Did I- Did I see you on TV Elvis?” I barely manage to get out, as my throat begins to constrict with sobs. Bastard. At least we both are in pain from the words we can’t say, I think to myself.

“W-well I noticed the TV ain’t on.. so I thought I’d ask…”

“You thought you’d ask me if the TV was off because you wanted me to watch you come home today?”

“Baby I know it ain’t been that long,” he chuckles, his hands digging deep into the pocket of his black slacks. I once sewed a hole he tore in those slacks, and I remember the way he kissed my cheek in thanks— I still feel the burn of his lips. “know my girl hasn’t gone all dumb on me”.

My girl. As if he had any right to call me that anymore. My anger bubbles to the surface, as the chemicals I dropped sting my nose. We stand polar opposites of one another. On one end of the diner, we have a lowly waitress who dreamt of a family and a small life but now spends her days covered in bacon grease for the creepy men in town to ogle at. On the other end, with hair still blown back from the influx of winter wind coming through the corner window, stands a god amongst men. He has the world in his hands, and it dawns on me that he could have any family or anyone’s life that he could ever want— small or large it wouldn’t matter, it’s all small to his strong flesh.

Unchanged in my agonizing swirl, I threaten, though no matter how hard I try I could never be crossed with him in tone, “You don’t get to call me that no more Elvis”.

He shuffles uncomfortably, and his lips curl inward with a tremble. He has taken an interest in the floor, and I wonder if he remembers the time he stayed here until 4 am with me scrubbing them down. He looks at the tiles just as intently as he did then, though now it seems like he feels just as dirty as them.

“I ain’t… I m-meant to write you y/n honest—“

“Oh you MEANT to write me, huh?”

“Yes! Yes I-I-I did I just got caught up ‘s all…”

“Caught up?”

‘Yes Lil! Caught up!” he extends his arms out to his sides; desperate for a positive response.

I can’t hold back the building sobs anymore, it hurts too much— makes me want to reach my arms out to him like a child and cry for help. I’ve bared my soul to him in far too many ways, and he deserves to see the mess he’s made of me.

“For two years E?” the tears sting my cheeks, as I hiccup in a breath.

For a moment, I see him take a step toward me. Ever the holder, Elvis always showed love through his touch. There would be nights I’d wake up sobbing and afraid at the idea of never getting to feel the velvety touch of his fingertips in or against me ever again. Those nights still haunt me, and the idea of him touching me is almost too much. No man has touched me since him, and I’ll never want anyone else to ever again. I move from his reach, and walk beside him with a wipe of my nose as he panics.

“B-Baby I tried! T- The Colonel”

“The colonel,” I stop in my tracks and smile spitefully with a small shake of my head “It’s always the Colonel E, isn’t it?”

“Oh c’mon y/n whas’ that supposed to mean?'' he follows behind me as I stomp past him and behind the counter, desperately grabbing at anything to appear unaffected; but he knows me. Elvis knows me more intimately than I know myself, and I’ve come to resent him for it. I can’t bear his cluelessness, and I can’t live with all of this hurt inside of me for any longer.

“ELVIS! He has taken EVERYTHING FROM YOU. Money, your Mother, your life, me! You’ll just let him take and take and take,” I throw the bulk of napkins across the counter and into his chest in anger, though I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt him. Strange how he seemed fine all the while I was dying for a single word from him. “until there’s nothing left of you— of us!”

I move around the counter, and it feels as if I don’t keep moving I’ll collapse in a heap of tears. My finger jabs into his chest, and he flinches with the intrusion. For the first time tonight, I see tears forming in his eyes, yet his stained cheeks indicate they have been falling for a long time as he struggles to inhale from his own pitiful, silent sobs.

“One word from you Elvis, that’s all I wanted.” I sob, barely coherent as I lay my hands on his chest. He grabs them, and the shift in my stomach nearly makes me lurch in pain. I feel him now, so real and warm and so mine. I could never forget his touch, and now that I have it again I doubt I’ll be able to breathe without it. We cry quietly for a moment, holding one another as if we were foreign to each other; like he hasn’t consumed by body and soul whole and left it to rot in his chest.

It’s silent save for his uneven breathing and the gentle scuff of my feet; unable to stay still as my body betrays itself. I pull away, and he mumbles a “no, no honey stay” as I wipe my eyes and regain my strength. He paws at my apron, trying to pluck me closer before I scold him for his mistakes.

“Elvis, please just go. I-I’ve lived without you, I’ve cried each time I saw your house, or-or heard your records. I’ve grieved you before you were even gone, and I know I can do it again. So please baby, please just go” I whimper out, smoothing down my skirt and pinching my thighs beneath the frilly mess. I can’t look at him, though my eyes thirsted for the pinch of his brow for so long.

There are very few women who can say Elvis Presley laid himself in front of her and wept. I’ve seen him cry before, in fear and anger, and each time I have taken him into my arms and quelled him into relief. But nothing could prepare me for the sight laid out before me.

My man, a god, falls to his knees in front of me and cries with outstretched palms, “Do ya think I’ve forgotten ‘bout you?”

His eyes appear to burn as they flutter closed with a gulp, his large hands gripping onto the bottom of my skirt, “Oh God baby, ‘ve messed up somethin’ awful, I know.” he cries out, wiping his nose with his sleeve like a boy. A chuckle builds in my chest at the antic, as it reminds me of the boy I’ve cried for all along. He licks his lips, panicking at the thought of rejection. “ ‘ve always tried to be so good for ya and look what I’ve done now… look what your satnin’s done now…” He chokes out, ever the fallen angel.

His arms wrap around me, and I stumble forward with the force of his pull. It’s no use in fighting, I think to myself, I can never purge myself from the feeling he gives me. I don’t think I’ll ever want to— I can never shed the feel of him. The feel of Elvis; an irrevocable heartbreak. My upper body falls on top of him, my breasts pressed against his strong shoulder as my hands slide flat down his back; the wool of his jacket slightly burning my wrists. I feel his cries against my hips, as his arms lock around the backs of my legs; hands clasped in fear that I’ll soon pull away. His shoulders shake as I lean over him, and chills run down my flesh as his thumbs soothe the backs of my thighs.

Against my skirt he wails, “Kiss me. Please God, kiss my sins away. ‘ve done so bad by you baby— let me know I ain’t the devil incarnate..” his nails dig into the thickness of my thighs in desperation.

Who am I to deny him?

[butler-on-beale-street]

Unforgettable | E!Austin Butler X Plus!Reader | Part 9 

Warnings: Allusion to SA, as discussed in previous chapter. That's about it!

Word Count: 6.1K

Have you read part 8?

Summary: He doesn't usually do it, but in times like these, Elvis isn't afraid to flex his status if it means that he can get home to you as fast as possible--even if it is in the middle of the night on a full flight.

Elvis gathered his belongings from the hotel room, packing a bag as fast as he could, his heart racing as he practically jogged around the room. He rushed his way through a shower, not even bothering to comb his long hair back into his usual coif. It hung limply in his face, dripping beads of water down onto his nose. He shoved as much as he could fit into the duffel bag, taking no time to straighten, fold or pack the items nicely. He sat on the edge of the bed and dialed 0 on the phone. “Operator, Beverly Wilshire, how can I help you?” A woman’s voice began. 

“Concierge, please,” he asked. 

“Yes, sir. Just one moment,” she said. Elvis heard a small click on the other side of the receiver and heard the dial tone continue to ring.

 “Front desk, Beverly Wilshire.”

“Hello, This is Elvis Presley in room 456. I would like my car pulled up for me.” 

“Oh, of course. Right now?” The concierge confirmed. 

“Yes sir. Immediately–as soon as you can, I mean,” Elvis backtracked, fearing that he was rude. 

“It would be my pleasure, sir. We will have your car prepared for you in five minutes.” 

“Thank you very much,” Elvis said appreciatively before hanging up the phone, walking into the bathroom to take one last look at himself before stepping out of the hotel room. He ran a comb through his dripping hair, tidying it the best he could with what little time he had. He wore a simple white t-shirt, but he saved a casual sport’s coat to pull over it so that he could look presentable. In the mirror, he didn’t look like himself. His complexion wore quite pale, his eyebrows struggled to relax, and his hands kept pulling into fists, his emotions swirling somewhere between anger and fear. He looked at himself once more in the mirror before determining that he had a job to do, and that nothing else mattered. He needed and wanted to be with you. Though it didn’t make sense, he silently blamed himself for not being there with you in Memphis. He beat himself up for it as he walked down the hotel hallways. At this late hour, he was grateful that there weren’t many people milling about the hotel. He was bound to be recognized, but he hoped that it wouldn’t turn into a mob. He took the elevator down and watched the button for each floor illuminate as it went down. He cursed to himself as it stopped on the seventh floor, opening for two adults and a small child. They all held hands with each other, the kid toddling in last, taking her sweet time to cross the threshold of the elevator.

 “Sumi Lee, come on, sweetheart. Let’s not keep this gentleman waiting any longer.” The little girl held a red dog pulled snuggly against her chest. The woman looked up at Elvis and nodded apologetically at him. “Sorry, Mr. Presley. Little kids,” She explained. She knew who he was, but didn’t make a show of it. Elvis smiled kindly, squatting lower on the child’s level. 

“It’s safe in here, little one.” He beckoned Sumi Lee forward into the elevator with a friendly wave. She smiled sweetly, stepping into the elevator, hugging the dog and squeezing it tight before pushing it to Elvis to take. 

“For me?” Elvis asked, reaching for the toy. 

“Hug!” she said, speaking for the first time. 

“A hug he wants, a hug he gets!” Elvis answered, taking the stuffed animal and pulling it tight against his chest, kissing the top of its head. He grunted like one would during the tightest of hugs. “He’s a good hugger, little Sumi Lee.” Elvis handed the toy back to her. “Thank you for letting me give him a hug. I think I needed it.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Presley,” The father said, maintaining a reserved and quiet demeanor. 

“Elvis,” he said, extending his hand for the man to take. The man looked at Elvis's hand for a long moment, as if unsure what to do. He offered his hand finally, shaking it firmly. “Have a wonderful night, sir.” Elvis said, ending the conversation. “Goodbye sweetie,” he said, bending down to kiss the child on the top of her head, right in between her two pigtails. She giggled softly. 

“Bye, bye mister!” Elvis smiled softly before stepping out of the elevator toward the front desk.

 “Mr. Presley,” the concierge said discreetly. “Your vehicle is right outside. The valet will assist with your bag as well as giving you the key.” Elvis nodded and thanked him before stepping out of the hotel. 

“Here you are, sir,” the valet said. This time, it wasn’t Michael, but another man. “May I help you with your bag?” he asked, extending his hands. Elvis gave the man his bag, watching the valet load it into the trunk of the car and arrive back with the key. “Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Presley.” The valet nodded respectfully before stepping back from the vehicle. If Elvis had more time and was less stressed, he would have given him a sizable tip. 

“Thank you,” Elvis said distantly before stepping into the Cadillac, and driving it out of the porte cochére and onto the main road. He drove through the Hollywood Hills, wasting no time. His destination was LAX, Los Angeles International Airport. It was approaching eleven P.M., and chances were slim that there would be any flights available at that time, but he had to try. He was Elvis Presley, after all. He arrived at the airport some time later, pulling into the Park N’ Go parking lot. He threw his car keys in his pocket and jogged into the airport toward the check in counter. The woman behind it was talking to a flight stewardess who looked quite disheveled. 

“I missed the flight. I’m going to get canned, Roxy.” She said, leaning over the counter dejectedly. 

“Just smile and look pretty tomorrow morning when you clock in. Maybe they’ll go easy on you,” Roxy responded, obviously trying her best to comfort the other woman. 

“Excuse me,” Elvis said, clearing his throat. The women went silent as they turned towards him. Usually, he would have been enthused to watch their jaws go slack as they recognized him. He continued to speak, cutting off their opportunity to fawn over him. “My name is Elvis–”

“Presley!” The flight attendant said, her voice way too loud. 

“Shhhhh,” he said softly, putting his hands up. “Yes,” he nodded. “I’m trying to find the next flight to Memphis, TN. It’s an emergency and I’m trying to get home.” 

“I-I’m sorry to hear that. Let me check the books.” The woman behind the counter said. She looked nervous, but seemed determined to help. “Bad news,” she said after a moment. “Boarding just closed. The flight looks full.” She looked up from the book at Elvis. Her expression was regretful but she didn’t seem ready to give up. 

“I have an idea!” The cute stewardess said after a moment. “But we’ve got to run.” She looked at Elvis and back at Roxy. She reached down for her heels and removed them, holding them in her hand. 

“Oh you weren’t kidding,” Elvis said with an impressed grin. 

“Not in the slightest. Come on,” she said, grabbing Elvis’s hand as she sprinted toward the gate. She ran fast. So fast that Elvis and Roxy had trouble keeping up. 

“Woman, my legs are going to fall off before we get there!” He huffed, offering her a bright grin. “What’s your name?” 

“Darlene!” She said. “You gotta get home, and I need to save my job!” He chuckled at her as he jogged. 

They arrived at the gate with five minutes to spare from takeoff. A man stood just outside of the external gate exit, closing and locking the steel door. “Jeffrey!” Roxy croaked, stumbling to a halt as she caught her breath. “I–I need you to open the door.” 

“What?” Are you kidding me? You know I can’t do that. The flight has to fly on schedule.” Jeffrey eyed her with confusion. 

“Good evening, sir.” Elvis stepped forward, causing Jeffery’s eyes to practically jump out of his skull. “Sir, I’ve got a family emergency. I’m trying to get home to Memphis.” 

“I–I’m sorry sir, but the flight is full.” Jeffrey said, walking around the receptionist podium toward the record log. 

“I might not have a job tomorrow, so I’ll do it,” Darlene said, stepping forward.

 “Excuse me?” Jeffrey asked. 

“You saw nothing,” Darlene warned, eyeing Jeffrey as she stepped forward to the door, prying open the lock and pulling on the door. It opened, but only after she man-handled it open, using her entire body in the process. “Wait, it’s not safe. You’re breaking so many rules!” He shouted after her. She was already gone before anyone could do anything about it. The trio stood inside watching her flag down the pilots. To their amazement, they unlatched and lowered the stairs for her to board the plane. 

Darlene walked up the stairs with dignity, heading to the cockpit. “Young lady, what do you think you’re doing?” The co-pilot said, swiveling in his seat to watch her step into the small space. 

“Risking my job for Elvis Presley.” She admitted frankly. “Listen, he’s got a family emergency. Trying to get home to Memphis.” 

“Yeah and I’m Buddy Holly,” he said with a sarcastic chuckle. “Earl, listen to this woman. Says she’s got Elvis Presley wanting to get on the plane.” The pilot turned, removing his radio headset to look back at Darlene. 

“Honey, what is your motive? We’re fully staffed. You’re pretty and all, but we don’t need another stewardess.” 

“You don’t understand. Elvis Presley is standing at the gate door.” Darlene looked outside of the plane, hoping that they didn’t shut the door. To her relief, she watched them standing, talking to each other. “Look!” She pointed out of the window. “Look up!” Both pilots peered out of the cockpit. The co-pilot practically climbed over Earl. Their jaws dropped when they saw him. 

“Holy cow, you weren’t kidding!” Earl said, looking back at Darlene with bewilderment. “We can’t do anything about the flight, though.” 

“Well, people have to get off planes to allow others to get on board.” She said, as if posing a proposition. 

“What exactly are you saying?” 

"It's Elvis Presley. You can't tell me no one would be willing to jump off the plane for him." Darlene bit at her bottom lip, waiting for the pilot to consider. 

"If someone offers to deboard, he can get on. No special treatment, though. My plane won't be turning into a party. 

"I don't think that's his goal. Would you mind if he announced his situation on the intercom?" Darlene asked. 

"Let me meet the guy first." He said, standing and crawling out of the cockpit.

"Mike, I'll be right back. Don't make any announcements just yet." The co-pilot nodded and turned his attention to the control panel of the cockpit, grabbing a control book from one of the compartments of the aircraft. Darlene watched him initiate the checklist sequence before turning and following the pilot out of the plane. 

"It's Elvis Presley. You can't tell me no one would be willing to jump off the plane for him." Darlene bit at her bottom lip, waiting for the pilot to consider. 

"If someone offers to deboard, he can get on. No special treatment, though. My plane won't be turning into a party. 

"I don't think that's his goal. Would you mind if he announced his situation on the intercom?" Darlene asked. 

"Let me meet the guy first." He said, standing and crawling out of the cockpit.

"Mike, I'll be right back. Don't make any announcements just yet." The co-pilot nodded and turned his attention to the control panel of the cockpit, grabbing a control book from one of the compartments of the aircraft. Darlene watched him initiate the checklist sequence before turning and following the pilot out of the plane. 

Darlene struggled to hide her growing smirk as she watched the pilot strut across the tarmac and into the gate. He adjusted his gait as he laid eyes on Elvis, clearing his throat and straightening his already-neatly placed necktie. 

"Good evening," Earl said, offering a hand out for Elvis to take. Elvis took the pilot's hand and shook it firmly. 

"Good evening, sir. Sorry to stir up trouble," Elvis said, offering an apologetic smile. 

"Eh, it's no sweat off my back. Heard there's an emergency back home?" He said, expectant for an answer. Knowing it would take far too long to explain, he opted to lie.

 "My Dad is sick...they tell me it's pneumonia, that he's not doing too well." Earl took his cap off and ran his fingers through his crew cut. 

"Gosh, I'm so sorry to hear that, sir." He said, his expression full of concern. "Let's see if we can get you home, shall we?"

Earl led Elvis out of the gate, waving goodbye to Darlene, Roxy, and Jeffrey. "Wait," Elvis stopped the pilot. "Miss Darlene has been so helpful. Can we get her on this flight to work? She missed her other flight. I don't want her to get in trouble." The pilot looked over Elvis's head at Darlene before returning his gaze. "I will speak with her superiors and tell them that she was a big help in getting you to your final destination. Though, if you would, it wouldn't hurt to write a letter explaining the situation. Hearing the story from Elvis Presley himself says more than from a measly pilot," Earl chuckled. Elvis noticed the slightest bit of nervousness from the pilot, though he didn't comment on it. Earl trained to stay calm, so it was rare to see any hint of vulnerability from someone in his position. 

"You're doing many people a great act of service," Elvis said, patting the pilot on his shoulder. "Say, are you a serviceman?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Earl nodded. "Second Battalion, five-hundred third Infantry Regiment." 

"Thank you for your service, sir. Even if I don't get on your plane, thank you." Elvis offered his hand, which the pilot took. 

Earl led the way back into the plane, grabbing the microphone for the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologize for the delay. I have someone here who would like to speak with you." Earl handed the receiver over to Elvis. 

"Uh, good evenin' everyone." Elvis began, creating a stir in the cabin. 

"That's not Elvis," a woman barked. Another younger teen jumped up from her seat. 

"It is! Saw him walk out to the plane!" 

The plane began to chatter loudly, making Elvis nervous. He pulled back the curtain that obscured the cockpit from view. Stepping out to wear passengers could see him, he continued to speak. A roll of gasps filled the air. 

"It's him!" 

"Elvis Presley!" 

"Shh...Let's hear what he has to say."

Elvis waited for the commotion to die down before continuing. "Hello. I-uh, I'm sorry to inconvenience you on your journey, but I wanted to ask a favor if you're willing." He looked around the cabin at the sea of faces, some very young, some very old. 

"See, I've got an emergency back home. My family needs me back in Memphis. I wouldn't usually ask for somethin' like this, but there's no seats on this plane, and it's the last of the night." The crowd remained silent. 

“I’d be happy to give free tickets to my next concert. Uh, autographs. Dinner at home in Graceland whenever you want. I will pay it back two times over, you have my word.” One by one, people of all ages began to stand up, ready and willing to give up their seats. 

“I want dinner with Elvis!” A teenage girl shouted. Her mother hushed her and sat her back down. The cabin erupted in laughter.

 “I’ll get off, Elvis. I’m on business anyway and I have a day in between meetings,” A young man said, standing up from his seat in business class. “Plus, I’ve got family in Los Angeles.” 

“Are you sure?” Elvis asked. 

“Absolutely.” The man got up and grabbed his belongings and moved into the aisle for Elvis to pass. Despite the more expensive section, women and men still reached out to touch him, as if they were testing if he were truly the celebrity. He was grateful that the man sitting at the window seat couldn’t have cared less about him. He lowered himself into the seat. He looked up into the aisle and shaked the generous man’s hand. 

“Please leave your name with the front stewardess. I will reach out to you soon. I’d love to have you home for dinner, if you’re interested. I’ll happily pay for your travel.” The man nodded kindly. “What is your name?” Elvis asked.

“Will–William Satterfield.” He answered. 

“Well, Will. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll remember you.” Elvis shook the man’s hand once more before he left. Though the man didn’t seem to mind, Elvis still felt guilty for asking a passenger for their rightful seat. The plane was noisy with conversation as the pilots and crew prepared for takeoff. Passengers got out of their seats to talk to Elvis, climbing over each other and lining up toward the front of the plane. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats for departure.” The pilot spoke from the cockpit, but the people remained clogged in the same area. Elvis turned his head to watch a stewardess walk toward the cockpit. “Attention: in order to taxi the plane to the tarmac, everyone must be in their seats. Otherwise, the plane cannot and will not take off. Those who do not abide by this request will be asked to leave the plane.” 

The crowd dispersed reluctantly, murmuring insults as they took their seats. In the last minute, a woman from first class moved into the aisle beside Elvis’s seat. “Trade seats with me.” she whispered, trying her best to not attract attention to herself. 

“Huh?” Elvis asked. 

“Switch seats with me. For privacy. I don’t need it. I can tell you’re gonna be heckled all night.” She had kind eyes and a beautiful smile. What impressed Elvis more was that she treated him like a person rather than an object. “Besides, I don’t feel like being checked on by the stewardesses every five minutes.” Elvis nodded with appreciation. 

“Thank you, honey. I really appreciate it.” 

“Don’t mention it. Get home safe. The woman squeezed Elvis’s hand fondly before letting him move up closer to the front of the plane, taking the woman’s previous seat. He was grateful for the personal space, as well as the privacy screen that could be pulled down from the ceiling of the plane. In truth, after so much socialization, he wasn’t feeling very charismatic. He played it off well, but his stomach churned with unease, the miles in between Memphis seeming to go on and on forever. He leaned his head against the window, letting the undulation of the plane’s engine lull him into slumber. 

***

Four hours later, his eyes flew open, his head jerking downward in reflex as the bright cabin lights clicked on. “Good–very early–morning, everyone. We will be landing in Memphis in fifteen minutes. Please keep all items stowed in the bin in front of you, stay seated and prepare for landing.” The intercom dinged as the stewardess finished speaking and the lights dimmed again. Elvis rubbed the sleep from his eyes, straightening himself in his seat. In the idle time, he took a small notepad out of his back pocket, as well as the pen from his checkbook and began writing. 

Thirty thousand feet above and only thinking of you. Sending me higher and higher than airplanes fly. I’m thinking of you, only of you…I can’t focus on anything but you. Even when it’s another woman, another actress, no matter the beauty, the grace or talent, your face dominates my view. I only ever think of you, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way…my heart jumps out of my chest with the chance to call you mine…it’s a shame I haven’t gotten to ask you yet. 

“Prepare for landing,” a voice announces on the intercom, prompting Elvis to put away the notepad, flipping the book closed and sliding it, as well as the pen, into his pocket. He was among the first to leave the airplane, and he did so quickly, trying his best to avoid the crowd behind him. He practically sprinted down the terminal toward the airport entrance. The airport wasn’t busy in the slightest, but he just couldn’t handle having to talk to more people. He made his way toward the front reception area towards an older looking man. He hedged his bets with the man, hoping he wouldn’t make a show of seeing Elvis in person. 

“Sir, My name is Elvis Presley. Can you tell me where I could make a phone call? Somewhere a bit more private?” The man looked up at Elvis with a gentle smile. “Of course, sir. The Admiral’s Club is around the corner to the left. It is private for our most valued patrons.” He winked at Elvis. “My daughter loves your music, by the way. You look tired, so I won’t make a fuss. Can’t wait to tell her I met you.” 

“What’s her name?” Elvis asked, reaching for his notebook, turning it to a new blank page. 

“Gladys. Gladys Ann.” The man answered. 

Elvis looked up at him with interest. “That’s my Mama’s name!” He took his pen and scrawled a quick note. 

To Gladys, the sweetest of the bunch. Love, Elvis.

He tore off the piece of paper and gave it to the man. “Thank you, young man. Best of luck to you. She will be over the moon! Go on now, I’m expecting a crowd any minute with the next flight.” The man shooed Elvis away, trying his best to be considerate of his privacy. Above his head across the lobby, he saw a sign directing him to the Admiral’s Club. He didn’t want special treatment, he just wanted a phone and a few minutes of peace. 

“Hello, sir.” Elvis said, stepping into the club, which was pretty much deserted except for a middle aged business man smoking a cigar in the far corner of the lounge. Elvis leaned over the reception desk. The concierge sat in his chair reading a novel. He looked up at Elvis. 

“Oh my goodness. I am so sorry…Mr. Presley! Wow!” He checked his wrist watch at the time. “Wow, you’re certainly here early.” 

Elvis offered a charismatic smile. “Yes, well a red eye flight wasn’t really my plan, but here we are,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. “I was wondering if I could borrow your phone so that I may call a car to pick me up.” 

“Oh, sir. I’d be happy to call the car service myself and order you one. It’s not a problem,” he said, picking up the phone from the receiver. “Thank you sir. From here to 3764 Highway Fifty-One South. Oh and please say that the car is for a Mister Vince Jones.” The concierge nodded, confused for a moment. He realized that Elvis was trying to be discreet and ordered the vehicle promptly. 

“Ten minutes, Mr. Presley. We’re glad to have you home.” He offered Elvis a kind smile. “Please,” he waved around the lounge. “Take a seat, or we can offer you a drink, maybe coffee if you are interested…” 

Elvis shook his head politely. “No thank you, but I appreciate the offer, sir. Just tryin’ to get home. Surprising my family for a few days.” It wasn’t completely a lie. His family didn’t know he was in Memphis, so they were bound to be joyful to see him. 

He nodded. “Understood. Well, it was lovely to meet you, Elvis.” The gentleman reached his hand forward. Elvis shook it with enthusiasm. 

“Thank you, sir!” He offered a kind smile and loitered quietly around the lounge until he saw a man in a suit walk into the airport from across the corridor. He held up a sign that read ‘Vince Jones.’ Elvis gave a kind two-finger wave to the concierge before stepping out of the lounge and making his way across the airport, looking cautiously to his left and right for fear of being spotted. Elvis walked towards the chauffeur hoping that he would continue being discreet. His eyes widened slightly with recognition, but he was extremely professional. 

“Good Morning, Mr. Jones.” Elvis nodded with a gentle smile. “Good morning, sir.” 

“May I take your bag?” The driver asked. Elvis handed his duffle bag to him to take and he took the lead out of the airport. He opened the back door for Elvis to sit before closing it and putting the bag into the trunk. He walked around the car to the driver seat and got in, turning the key in its ignition. 

“Graceland?” The Driver said, turning in his seat to look at Elvis, offering a knowing smile. 

“Yes, please. Thank you for not making a scene in there.” Elvis said. For the first time since he left, he felt like he could finally relax. 

“Of course. It’s part of my job. You look tired–I mean that as respectful as I can…I just know when someone wants attention and when they don’t. Also, ‘Vince Jones?’ Kinda gave it away.” Elvis offered a thin smile. “Happy to serve you, Elvis. Let’s get you home before the sun rises, hm?” He turned back over the steering wheel and began driving. Elvis laid his head against the window, watching the familiar scenery pass his view. Even in the dark, he could recognize the diners, schools, grocery stores and churches as they passed. He must have nodded off, lulled into sleep from the drone of the vehicle. 

“Mr. Presley? You’re home, sir.” Elvis opened his eyes. The driver had pulled around the front of the house, which was dimly lit by the small sconces that hung on the outside of the house. Elvis sat up in his seat, stretching. The driver stepped out of the vehicle and opened Elvis’s door for him. Elvis stepped out, his face contorting with an exhausted  yawn. Elvis took his duffle bag from the man, paid him generously and walked toward the quiet house. His keys jingled as he unlocked the front door and stepped in. He looked around the familiar rooms, feeling weirdly out of place. Of course, he had come home at strange times in the day before, but rarely ever was he completely alone. Most of the time, he’d have someone home to greet him. He considered walking straight up the stairs to his bedroom to get a few hours of sleep without telling anyone, but he knew that his mother would have appreciated him coming to greet her upon his arrival. 

He walked towards his parent’s room and opened the door slowly, cringing slightly when the door squeaked within its hinges. He’d fix that later. He walked around the bed past his snoring  father to the other side to wake his mother. He knelt down and shook her lightly by her shoulder. “Mama. Hey. Mama…” She gasped awake, hearing the voice, but not immediately recognizing it as Elvis’s. Her eyes trained on him finally and she pulled her hands up to touch his face. “Elvis? Baby?” She sat up in bed. “What in the world are you doin’ home?” 

“I’ve got a friend I need to help.” He said, bending to kiss her softly on the forehead. “I just wanted to let you know I was home. Probably only for a couple days, but I’m here.” He moved back down on his knees so that his mother could look at him. 

“Baby you look like you’re runnin’ with the dead. You look tired–and are they feeding you? You’re too skinny.” Elvis shook his head with a soft smile. 

“Yes, mama. It’s just cause I’ve been travelin’.” He said, raking his hand through his hair. “I’m gonna go get a couple hours of sleep. I love you.” He kissed her on the cheek before getting up from his knees. 

“I can make you breakfast the way you like–with the extra sausage wieners with ketchup–” She squeezed Elvis’s arm lovingly. 

“Oh Mama, save that for tomorrow morning. I’ll probably be on my way to my friend’s house before breakfast anyway.” 

“Who is this friend, anyway?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. She asked the one question that caused him to blush. Even in the low light of the bedroom, his mother saw it. “It’s a lady friend, isn’t it?” She asked with a knowing grin. Elvis considered lying, but something compelled him not to. 

“Yes, Mama. I want you to meet her. She’s wonderful. Beautiful, sweet….thoughtful.” Gladys nodded, pulling the covers around her. “Did you meet her in hollywood? Some toe-headed blond girl with long legs…” She spoke as if she had one day wished to fit the imagine of the woman she described. 

“No. She’s from here. Memphis. I met her before I left for the movie.” Gladys nodded. “A southern belle?” She asked with an impressed smile. 

“One with a brain, Ma’. She’s all I can think about.” He took his mother’s hand, squeezing it softly. 

“Oh, baby. That’s just wonderful. Are you surprising her?” She asked. 

Elvis nodded. “Yes. Got a late flight so I wouldn’t be bombarded by fans.” Gladys nodded. 

“That’s good. Well, sweetheart. Go get some sleep. Ill see you later. Maybe I can fix you a tomato sandwich like you like?” Elvis chuckled softly. 

“You know I can never say no to you, mama.” He bent to kiss her on the top of her head before stepping out of the bedroom. “Love you, mama.” 

“You too, baby.” Elvis closed the door softly before stepping into the kitchen, walking to the fridge to pour a large glass of milk. He leaned against the counter, feeling the tension in his shoulders throb into a dull ache as it finally began to relax. He didn’t know how it would go, but somehow he needed to be with you. He prayed that Harold would understand and accept his surprise arrival. 

***

Elvis was up early…he had barely slept, but it wasn’t anything that he wasn’t used to.; Insomnia had plagued him for several years. It was the stress of knowing that someone he cared about was hurting that made him feel beaten down. He still got out of bed, propelled by the guarantee of seeing you. He made the effort to look nice, taking a shower, shaving and combing his hair neatly. He spritzed on a few sprays of Old Spice before reaching for an outfit. Today, he would go for something more relaxed. He chose a blue and white seersucker cotton button-down and paired it with a dark pair of trousers and a pair of black oxfords. He walked out to the dining room where his parents sat, eating breakfast and discussing the headlines in the morning paper.  

“I’m headed out, Mama, Daddy.” He came around and gave them both kisses on the tops of their heads. “Not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be around.” Elvis turned and began walking out. 

“Elvis!” Gladys called after him. 

“Yes, Mama?” He asked, turning around. 

“Don’t bring crowds to this poor girl’s house. Try to be discreet?” She said, lowering his gaze to him. “If she’s just a normal girl, she probably wants as normal of an Elvis as she can get.” Elvis nodded quietly. As he walked out of the house, he got an idea. He headed for one of his Cadillacs and drove out to the main road. 

An hour later, he walked out of the nearest dealership with the keys and registration to a 1956 Chevrolet Belair in Nassau Blue. The salesman offered–begged even, to deliver Elvis’s Cadillac Coupe DeVille to Graceland. Yes, this car was new, but at the same time, it was one of the most purchased vehicles in the country. Elvis figured that with this purchase, he would attract much less attention than with his own luxury cars that he liked to drive. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into your driveway. It was just past ten A.M, yet the house was still quiet. Elvis looked around the cul de sac to make sure that he wasn’t being watched. When he felt comfortable enough, he stepped out of the vehicle and headed to the front door. He thought about knocking, then saw the doorbell. He rang it and stepped away from the door. Uncle Harold pulled the door open. 

“Elvis?” He asked, shaking his head with confusion. “Wh-what are you doing here?” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect you.” 

“That’s quite alright, sir. Um, Evelyn told me what happened.” Uncle Harold shifted in place. It was obvious that it made him uncomfortable to talk about. “I came home. For her.” 

Uncle Harold nodded slowly, though there was still suspicion in his eyes. “All the way from Hollywood?” He asked. 

“Got the first flight I could find…last person on the plane,” he chuckled nervously. 

“She’s still asleep.” 

“That’s okay, I’m willing to wait for her to wake up. If that’s alright with you, sir.” Uncle Harold nodded slowly, peering over Elvis’s shoulder. “New car?” 

Elvis turned to join Uncle Harold’s gaze. “Figured it would be less flashy than the Cadillac.” Uncle Harold grinned, opening the door for him. “Come on in, son.”

“Daddy! Breakfast is up–I burnt the bacon, though.” Evelyn announced, walking into the dining room with two full plates. 

“Sweetheart,” Uncle Harold began. 

“I know, I know, I was cooking on too high of heat.” She said sheepishly. 

“Looks delicious!” Elvis said enthusiastically, causing Evelyn to look up. 

“Elvis! Wow that was fast!” She said, setting down the plates and stepping forward to give Elvis a warm hug. “How did you get home so fast? I called you LATE.” 

Elvis nodded as he squeezed her into a hug. “Had to practically beg someone to give up their seat on the last plane to Memphis from LAX.” 

“How on earth did you manage that?” Evelyn asked.

“Well, I mean,” Elvis said, blushing softly. “I’m kinda–” 

“I forgot. You’re so normal.” She said with a grin, sitting down at the table. Uncle Harold joined her. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“I don’t mind if you go up to see Y/n.” Uncle Harold said, checking his watch. “Sure she’d like to see you. Plus, she really should get up.” 

Elvis nodded. “Thank you, sir. Door open.” 

Uncle Harold smiled and nodded, enthused. “Door open.” 

***

She’s so beautiful, Elvis thought as he watched from the doorway as you slept. Sun rays cut through your curtains, spraying light into the bedroom. You were snuggled tightly within the covers, your hair puffed around your head in a halo. Your foot stuck out from the covers at the end of the bed causing Elvis to smile softly as he entered your room. He pulled at the comforter, covering you better. He leaned over you and kissed your temple. As soon as he saw you, his heart sprung to life with boyish excitement. You adjusted in bed, pulling the covers back up to your chest, still withdrawn to sleep. Elvis chuckled softly. “You’re so peaceful, Cheeks.” Elvis murmured softly, brushing the stray hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear. You felt it. You smelled him. Was this a dream? You felt your body drift within the current of consciousness, teasing the idea of waking up before withdrawing again. You heard a soft tune being hummed. You had heard it before. Consciousness prevailed, letting you open your eyes for the first time. And he was there. Finally. Just when you needed him. 

“Elvis?” You asked, confused. 

“Hello, Cheeks.” Elvis smiled softly. 

“Elvis–oh my–” You reached out for him, though your muscles ached from the ordeal with Adam. Elvis squeezed you tightly, not realizing the pain he was inflicting. At the same time, you didn’t care. You could have clung to him for a lifetime within that embrace.

“I’m here, honey. I’m here. And I’m so, so sorry.” He held you protectively, tucking your head into the curve of his neck. “I'll make that sorry son of a bitch pay.”

End of Part 9.

Taglist: @mamaspresley @anestesia-mxm @misspygmypie @austin-butlers-gf @cozacorner @she-is-juniper @shimmeringlights44 @mariposa-mila @austinelvisimagines @sagesolsticewrites @guns-n-queen @anangelwhodidntfall @avengen @suitrry @eurusthewanderer @domaniquessidehoe @kittenlittle24 @softmullet @mirandastuckinthe80s @stargiirl27 @maddieks-blog @kyddosebastian @girlnairb @its-funny-til-its-not @im-just-star-dust @bobbykennedyfan @venus-haze @groovydeputyfestivalkid @hockeyfootballhoe @21bruhs @thebeatlesbitch @dangerdolll @captured-memory @kingelviscreole @adoreyouusugar @slutforblueeyes @theinvisiblecapricorn @ghxst-heart @yagirlalexx @sapph1re @madzandflowerz31 @kaycinema @theloveoftoms @annamarie16 @omgellenlouise @re3kin @feverdawg @cutie-ghost @shynovelist @fxntxsix @rheathesimp @madzandflowerz31 @writeroutoftime @bamitzzsam @meladollsims @mslizziesblog @headfullofpresley@shandis-world @in-my-body-bag @ash-omalley @stitchattacks @foreverdolly @fullmetal-falcon @lolllasblog@omgellenlouise@wolffes-cyarika @kaitaesupremacy

[sincerelylea]

happy birthday, austin <3

5:04 pm. austin’s elvis. when i close my eyes at night. 

when you close your eyes, he’s there. standing behind your eyelids like a picture. like a dream. he lived there too, in thoughts beyond your brain, in worlds you fixed for him. 

he was lavish with beauty, acutely intoxicating, savagely close and just beyond your grasp. 

oh, how you longed for him. so desperately, starved. you needed him to be yours. terribly. 

at night, at your bedside, you’d fold onto your knees and clasp your hands together, eyes closed tight, and beg. beg that whatever being lived above you and around you could give him to you. 

“i already love him. i love him and i cannot stand it.”

in the safety of your covers you’d lay, wetness growing in your waterline, biting your cheek to avoid tears in the dead of night. you saw him then, black hair, smudgy makeup, tall and lean and pouty and perfect. 

you imagined his arms around you, his hands touching you. you thought maybe his hands were cold at times, he had the prettiest hands. 

the idea alone - of him looking into your eyes. it ripped breath from your body. you could only imagine the privilege of looking into the eyes of that man and call him yours. your knuckles under his chin, the freckles dotting his cheeks, his smile. all of it you wanted. he was perfect. 

on the off chance you did get to see him, between hangouts with mutual friends and glances from across clubs, you remained silent at best. it was enough to look at him, and the redness of your face when he did speak to you was humiliating enough. you knew he could see right through you, perhaps it hurt to know he could and did little about it. 

he says your name. 

your eyes blink open, the wetness is blinding, you blink the tears away as you awaken. 

“oh, darlin’ what’re you cryin about?” it’s sweet, sugar on his lips. your head is still pressed into the pillow, a thin streak of sunlight stretches across the bed, limbs tangled in a silk shirt of his you slept in. 

his hand is warm when he places a hand at the side of your face, wiping the tears from your cheeks before pausing to get a good look at him. 

his silhouette is shining like an eclipse before you, black hair unstyled from sleep, brows furrowed with an ache you’d seen only a few times before. 

your eyes are heavy with sleep, limbs heavier. it was bittersweet, the dreams living in your brain. 

“just remembering.” you answered, pressing his hand close to your face as your eyes flutter closed. 

you told yourself to hang on. hang on to the feeling of his skin against yours, the warmth you felt, the overwhelming feeling of loosing your breath to the love before you. because he was here, and you were here. and you were laying in his bed, able to kiss him, able to remind him of your love. 

“what were you rememberin’?” he lays back down on his side to meet your eye level, his eyes searching for your own to find the answer in case you couldn’t spill it from your lips. 

“when i was a million miles away from you.” 

[steveskeery]

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steveskeery; hii !! I’ve been a tumblr user for a long time & finally had the courage to use this blog for reposting and liking posts which i never done b4 bc im nervous 🥲. although i am still kinda nervous, i wanna do this !!

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info ab reposts !!

★ i will most likely repost ab:

Steve Harrington

Joe Keery

Elvis Presley

Austin Butler

Eddie Munson

warning: some fics may be 18+ , please minors dni with those posts if they are !

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Reminders!!!

steveskeery; this is a safe space so please no judgment to any blog/post that is reposted on my blog !! also feel free to send in some of your fav posts! but as always, show love & support to any blogs/posts ‹3

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[elvisabutler]

should have worshipped her sooner

summary: you are known around campus as a bit a harlot when it comes to sleeping with professors. it's a title you have earned rightfully but you want to change that. as a last hurrah your friend convinces you to go for professor presley, a man you've admired from afar. things go unexpectedly for both of you. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m overall, but this part is a high t i think. pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader word count: 8420 i don't even know warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. use of a cane to startle people. mild fantasizing about the cane. implied praise kink. student and professor relationship ( everyone are of legal age ). religious talk. power kink/title kink? elvis being ill enough to miss class. unrequited love that would be requited if people just opened up their mouths. author's note: so welcome to the beginning part of the my heart's already sinned, there's a final part after this where it has the happy ending that i promise i'm giving these two but i'm not quite done with it so welcome to the thing that started these two being- the way they were in the fic i linked. special thanks everyone who has listened to me scream about these two, y'all know who you are. and i kind of tagged anyone who reblogged this/left a comment on the last one sorry if you didn't want to be tagged but i at least promise the smut for the last part is- a beast and i wrap it up in a nice bow. and y'all know the drill, pick your elvis poison, this is written with real elvis in mind but you can imagine austin elvis.

"I'm just saying it'd be a waste to not try this last time. I get it, I support you and I'm proud of you. But you're- if anyone could sleep with Professor Presley, it would probably be you. I'd bet good money, we could win good money." Noelle says, brandishing her fork at you over dinner. "I could see you and him getting along."

You roll your eyes at her antics before glaring at her with a mouthful of your food. You swallow before shaking head. "Of course, because the religious studies professor who everyone knows goes for women who are not going to our school and who is pretty religious himself would go for me, the "Tour Guide" for the school. I could definitely see it."

Normally your sarcasm would clue Noelle into dropping it but she can't help but continue her line of thought. "That's why, though. You're not his type, though we both know you love taking orders from someone big and strong. And you and both know how big and strong you think he is."

"I told you that with the idea that you wouldn't use it against me." You whine, poking her with your fork. "If I agree to this, if I agree to try, will you never mention it again?"

There's a moment where your friend debates whether or not she wants to agree to the terms before she nods solemnly. "I'll bury my knowledge of you liking Professor Presley and any other professors who are big and strong deep within me. As long as you tell me if you do manage to sleep with him. Just for my own selfish desire."

You can't help the way your lips purse but you nod anyway. "Deal."

Seeing Professor Presley up close, breathing in his scent as he walks by is something entirely different than seeing him from afar, seeing him from across the way, talking to the selected group of other professors from varying different departments that he dubbed his Memphis Mafia. Did it matter that not everyone was from Memphis? No. Did it matter that technically speaking neither was Professor Presley himself? Also no, because they had come to Tennessee and fell right into the lap of someone who from what rumors say is practically a King in Memphis. He was imposing enough from afar, capable of commanding his group like it was nothing but in person? In the same room as you with his eyes flitting around the still empty classroom? That was another thing entirely, that was the universe narrowing its focus to just this room, to just this part of the room where you're sitting in a dress jotting down a note- or ten- in your planner. The tap of his cane gives him away even as you don't look up and it's perhaps for the best because if you had looked up your reaction to Professor Presley might not have been as chaste as it is. After all, how is a woman supposed to react to someone looking at you like you're some priceless religious tome- like you're more beautiful than every angel in heaven or any god or goddess in any religion especially when most people on campus have never seen that look on Professor Presley.

He stops in front of you, tapping his cane once on the ground and clears his throat. "Pretty early for class, aren't ya? One of those overachievers?"

Your first instinct, the one that you have to tamp down on when you look up is to roll your eyes and try and say something cute. Something charming to rope him in like you've done with so many other professors. What you do instead is look up at him with a small smile. "Something like that." Not at all like that, if he asked anyone else. "And I wanted to get a good seat. I know in classes like this a lot of people take al the good ones if you don't stake your claim first. Is it a problem, Mr. Presley?"

Elvis lets out a short whistle that sounds more like him saying whew than anything else before he starts to laugh, shaking his head. "Now I know ya ain't calling me Mr. Presley like ya talkin' to my daddy. Know I ain't a spring chicken no more, but ya gotta way of takin' a man down a peg wit' that."

Almost as if you can't control your body, your head tilts a little as you raise an eyebrow. "What do you want me to call you, then? Professor Presley?"

Elvis's leg and cock twitches at his title slipping from your lips as if you're just casually reading off a menu or a list of ingredients. Never in his life has he thought being referred to as his title was arousing and yet there you were having him react like that. He shakes his head and licks at his lips before answering. "Elvis." He pauses to exhale quietly. "Call me Elvis."

You blink once and a slow gentle smile crosses your lips. "Elvis." It feels surprisingly right leaving your mouth, feels surprisingly right being on your tongue. "In that case, is me choosing a seat a problem, Elvis?"

It was a mistake to have you call him by his God given name, oh it was a mistake because now he knows how it sounds rolling off your tongue. Knows how the angel standing in front of him, this sweet girl that he knows isn't what she seems, sounds saying his name. He wants to hear it more, he is- he knows he shouldn't but there is something about the way the syllables fall from her lips that sound like a hymn, the musicality he only ever hears in them falling from her lips. He'd call you a siren if he didn't know any better but no, no you're something else entirely. A moment passes before he answers, trying to tamp down on the arousal he feels in his veins at your use of his name, innocent as it may have been.

"It is, darlin', because that's not where I planned on ya sittin'. A girl like ya in the middle of my class? Tryin' to hide from me? That won't do at all." He lifts up his cane and uses it to rap against the chair two rows in front of you. It's a seat in a spot you hate, at the end of the row and smack dab right in front of the podium. Even though you were planning on trying to charm him throughout the semester and you planned on paying attention in class the idea of being right there in front of everyone made you feel a little self conscious for some reason. "Front row, right there. Up n'at 'em."

You look up at him through your eyelashes and pout just a little bit before you gather your items and your bag, standing up and walking to the aforementioned seat. There's a part of you that wants to turn around, wants to be a little childish and stick your tongue out at him but while you've heard that Professor Presley- Elvis was a bit of a child at heart, something tells you he'd prefer the show of respect and so you resist. Instead you choose to just go back to what you were doing originally, thinking that perhaps he was done talking to you. You hardly register the tap of his cane on the floor approaching you yet again, and what part of your brain does assumes he's heading to the front of the classroom before you feel the warmth of his hand against your shoulder. On top of your shoulder, really, the sheer size of his hand making it so that the heat emanating from it feels like a fire licking at your skin. You swear you hear your heartbeat roaring in your ears and feel it rushing through your body and your head. Despite this or perhaps because of it, your brain narrows to just you and Elvis and your ears that aren't hearing a single other thing in the room at the present time can hear the words leaving his mouth.

"That's a good girl." His voice practically rumbles against you and you know he's not pressed up against you, there's no reason you should swear that you can feel the vibration of his words and yet here you were. "Doin' what you're told." He pauses. "Be prepared f'me to call on ya today."

You don't realize when your eyes shut of their own volition until you have to force them to open at his question. Part of the reason you had chosen your seat was to really study Elvis in his class setting properly without him being able to really study you back or accuse you of being distracted, but here you were being thrust into his view and under his constant attention. You swallow slowly and exhale. "I-Are you prepared to hear my answers to what you ask?"

There's a moment where you swear you see or maybe you feel Elvis bending closer to you, to maybe brush his mouth against your ear. You know you're imagining it though, knowing he wouldn't be that close to your neck and the shell of your ear. "Darlin', don't think 've ever been more prepared for somethin' in m'life. 'sides, curious what's inside that head of yours."

A smile crosses your lips, small but still ever present before you respond. "Careful what you wish for, Elvis. Might live to regret giving me a challenge."

"Regret giving ya a challenge?" He moves to be in front of you, trying to walk to the front of the room before he looks back at you his eyes dancing with something you'd like to call amusement before he shakes his head. "Doubt it, if anything you might become my favorite student because of it."

There's a rush of heat that runs through your body at those words and you find yourself biting your lower lip and looking down, bashful and yet thoroughly delighted. You open your mouth to say something only to realize he's not paying attention any more, that he's already moved to the bottom where his podium is and you take that to be a sign you should get back to your other notes. The moment you bury yourself into them, looking down instead of looking up at him, he allows himself to stare at you, thanking God you had to take his class this semester.

Your class goes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself marveling at how he's commanding the room with everyone actually paying full attention even as they take notes. True to his word he calls on you multiple times and you find that seeing how his mouth splits into a grin and how he seems to have a bit more of a pep in his step as he moves to the next point after you provide a bit of debate with him. Elvis has always supposedly had a way of making a mildly boring subject to most be a rather boisterous and entertaining class but if anyone who had his class before were to see him today- hell- if any of the Mafia had seen this class today they'd wonder what he took to have all the energy he has.

The next class is a few days later and you remember what Elvis had said, that he assigns his seats and that he had specifically picked out your seat for you. A thought crosses your head to sit in a different seat but after that first class you find you enjoy where he put you, find that it fits your plans for the semester but it also makes you feel watched by him versus watched by everyone else, which was the reason you had avoided it in the first place. Elvis is running a bit late to class that day, he's still there before it starts but there's more people in the room and you barely hear the tap of his cane before you feel his warm hand on your shoulder and you swear you feel the heat from the rest of his body against your back as he leans over to you, his voice pitched low and rumbling in a way that has you shivering just slightly, your eyes fluttering shut as images of him speaking to you like that as you roll together among his sheets before you open your eyes.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be, Y/N." He murmurs and you swear you can hear the hint of a smile in his tone before you shake your head in an attempt to clear it. "Better than everyone else around here."

"You assigned the seat and I'm good at following directions when I want to." You answer, clenching your pen just a little bit tighter in an effort to keep yourself from doing anything stupid. You had a plan forming in your head for how you wanted this to go and falling for him- falling immediately into his arms wasn't how you wanted it to go in the slightest. "I wanted to for you, Elvis."

You swear you feel or maybe you hear Elvis growl a little at your words and it has your toes curling in your boots just a little. Against your will you shiver just a bit and when Elvis speaks you can definitely hear a smile in his tone as he squeezes your shoulder. "Oughta get a jacket, darlin'." He removes his hand and you bite your lower lip to keep a noise from escaping, knowing you're around people before you hear the rustle of fabric and then feel the the warmth of fabric and the scent of Elvis- at least you think it's his scent- envelop you as you look down and see a jacket that is not your own around your shoulders. You open your mouth, turning around to say something before he shakes his head, motioning for you to put it on properly, not just have it draped around your shoulders "Use it for right now. Just gotta give it back after class. Hate to have you distracted because you're cold."

There's words on the tip of your tongue but they're jumbled up the second you look at Elvis and see him without the jacket, his shirt tailored enough that the buttons don't rebel against any part of his waist or chest and you merely nod, swallowing your spit as to not drool. You had already found Professor Presley attractive from afar and you had already planned on trying to sleep with him but this- oh this might be a genuine problem. You're not used to this, you're used to the men being sweet maybe but not- like this and not after such a short period of time. By the time Elvis has turned around, ready to start the class you find yourself burrowing into his jacket, hugging it tightly to your chest. You don't bother to look up at him until he calls on you, unsure if you want to see just how he feels about you wearing his jacket but when you do look, you find yourself relieved and a little put out that he doesn't seem to care about you wearing it. Almost as if he had offered it to you with the intention of just keeping you warm with no strings attached and nothing behind the action. It's not an unwelcome concept just entirely new. By the end of class you find that his jacket around you has relaxed you, made you a little more bolder than you already are and it appears to be lighting a fire in Elvis's eyes that spurs you on even more. You wait until the class has dispersed other than the two of you before you make your way down to the podium, your books in your bag. You've made no motion to actually take off Elvis's jacket and when he notices his heart stops in his chest. He thinks you look good in his jacket, thinks you look like you belong wearing his clothes and he has to look away for a moment, leaning on his cane before he exhales.

"Do ya want to come to my office?" He starts, allowing one of his hands to play with the lapel of the jacket. "We had to cut our debate short so everyone else could have a chance but-"

"I'd love to." Your answer comes so quickly out of your mouth and so eagerly that both of you look a little startled by it before you both start to laugh. "Sorry- I meant-"

He shakes his head, moving to smooth out the shoulder of his jacket. "Don't apologize. Not for bein' excited like that. It's- People like my class, darlin' but not usually like this. It's nice to see. Helps me- I enjoy it, alright? Don't even dream of being sorry 'bout it. Just walk with me to the office, alr'ght?"

You nod and start to follow him. Maybe it's because he usually takes his time when he heads into class but you're prepared for one speed as far as walking goes only to realize you're more behind than you mean to be before you've even crossed the threshold of the classroom. It's easy to catch up though and you find yourself just talking to Elvis about the debate you had been having with him, keeping your passion in check as to not alarm anyone passing by but still proving to be enough of a spitfire that Elvis can't help but have a huge grin on his face as he fires back his own responses. More than once his eyes drift to his jacket, not that you notice too busy hugging it just a little closer to your body for the warmth but the surprising comfort you find it brings. The pair of you reach his office quicker than either of you expect as he unlocks the door and ushers you in. A part of you wonders if this is it, if this is him just bringing you in here like every professor ever has after you've charmed them only to have sex and be done with it. He motions to the couch for you to sit on as he moves the chair out from behind his desk to relax in it across from you, his eyes glinting with unashamed delight. "Lay it on me, Y/N. Tell me what ya were really thinkin' in class."

The grin that breaks out on your face is one of unabashed joy that has Elvis's heart stuttering in his chest for a moment before you launch into a tirade that has him laughing loud enough that the professors in the rooms beside him take note and the members of his mafia who are about to come see him stop at the door before turning around, figuring interrupting whatever that is can wait. it's not that Elvis hasn't laughed like that in a while but- they forgot what it was like to hear him laugh like that when he wasn't with them and hearing your laugh follow suit as he talks they realize it's best to not interrupt. You're a bit late for your next class as you lose track of time but when you finally do leave the room you make move to take off the jacket only to have Elvis's hand stop you.

"Keep it. Got a dozen like it at my house. Won't miss that one." He pauses before he shrugs. "'Sides, you look good in blue."

Your breath catches in your throat as you try and speak, try and tell him that you can't keep his jacket before a baser part of you, a part of you in the back of your mind wants to let him lay the claim on you. That's what you want, right? To have him want you enough to fall into bed with him and maybe you get to keep a trophy for once to go along with the one you'd leave him. His eyes rake over you for a second before he opens the door and motions you out. "Go on, out ya go, just tell 'em I kept ya real late. They'll understand, I can talk an ear off."

A nod is the only thing you manage as you leave, risking a glance back at him and seeing nothing but him closing the door. You think you hear him say something like "lord have mercy" but you figure you imagined it.

And so it goes throughout the semester, you wearing his jacket on certain days you see him, finding yourself in his office practically every day after class with the only exception being the occasional days you had plans in between his class and your other one. It becomes an integral part of your life, arguing with him in class as you take notes and arguing with him in his office in between sips of Pepsi and coffee and finding out more and more about him as a person. Noelle tries to press about how things are going- noting how you seem happier than she's ever seen you in an attempt to sleep with a professor. There's a thought you have to tell her, to pick her brain on if this is what a normal progression to something more as an adult is supposed to be but you find yourself wanting to keep whatever it is you're nurturing with Elvis a secret even if half of his Memphis Mafia has come in to see you grinning on his desk or him laughing with you on the couch. Their knowing looks say it all but you don't pay any mind for once and Elvis- well he does command them for a reason. Both of you are so used to each other's company that when you leave his office one day you can't help but notice he's looking a little more tired than normal and you find yourself frowning before you leave, your hand moving to cup his face with the sleeve of his suit jacket just covering your hand.

"Are you feeling alright? You look-" Worn out, tired, sick are all the words that come to mind before you settle on a single word. "Exhausted."

Unbidden, Elvis nuzzles into your hand, his eyes shutting momentarily before pulling away, realizing what he's doing. "'m fine. See ya after m'next class?"

Your frown deepens before you exhale as you nod. "Always. Get some rest, though, Elvis. Can't have you letting me win because you're tired."

"Never." His chuckle is soft before he shuts the door, leaning on it for a second before he moves to the couch to just take a nap. What you don't know is that Jerry and Joe find him after he misses his next class to teach and that they take him home, setting him up to rest before leaving.

Finding out that Elvis isn't there for the next class feels as if someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Sure it's a little chillier outside now, but that has nothing to do with the cold that seeps into your bones and has you hugging his jacket closer to you. You're not- You shouldn't be worried about him the way you are, you think. He's just your professor and while he's proven to be the nicest person and has proven to be so much more in general this isn't what you're supposed to do with a professor. This isn't- you know better, because they've always got a wife or a girlfriend or you're just the fling for the semester but it feels- you feel different with Elvis. Sometimes in his office you just do your work for other classes, enjoying the company of someone who you can talk to so easily after an invigorating time in his actual class. He never seems to mind, never makes a move to kick you out, instead choosing to kick back on his couch and read some text for the lesson plan for next week, occasionally asking you if you think he should tweak the plan. You had told him to tweak this week's plan about two weeks ago and you had been excited to see what he was going to do with it only to find him not here, instead a substitute- you think it might be Joe from the Memphis Mafia stepping in. You know this isn't his area of expertise, but you figure maybe he's one of the few people Elvis trusts to teach his class.

It goes by fine enough with a paper being assigned to make up for the fact that Elvis wasn't there. You find yourself wondering if he's alright, worrying if he's sick as you hear whispers from your classmates about the status of his health because "he had this problem last semester didn't he" and "not surprised, we've all seen how he is coming into class". You feel like you should have noticed something was up and done more to help before you realize you couldn't have because there's some things Elvis keeps close to his chest. The thoughts that run through your mind and envelop it to the point where before you realize it you find yourself at his office door, completely forgetting that he's not there- that he's not here for you to talk to. Once again you hug his jacket closer to you, sniffling as you head to your apartment before your next class. He- He'll have to be there for the class after this one. You just had to wait a couple of days to see him.

Those two days feel like some of the longest ones in your life, Noelle notices the change in your mood and asks if it has anything to do with the lack of Professor Presley today. Your answer- or lack thereof give her the only confirmation she needs before pulling you into a hug. She doesn't press beyond that, choosing to distract you with tales of how stupid everyone else is as the hours tick by until that Friday. You've got on one of your own jackets, choosing to leave behind his at your apartment just in case he isn't there again. As you put on the finishing touches to your paper you hear the tap of his cane and a tension you didn't realize was within your shoulders dissipates, causing them to droop down just a little before you feel his warm hand against your shoulder and his breath against your ear.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be." His voice is tired and tight but you can still hear the warmth and the rumble you like to think he only reserves for you.

"Always. Even when you're not here." You answer, turning a little try and look up at him before he shakes his head and mouths the word later to you as he slowly makes his way to the podium. He sits on the chair, a true rarity that has a few gasps including your own erupt from the class before he waves you all off.

"Stomach bug, still feeling a little off. Don't get used to it." He says before launching into the lesson plan a little more subdued than normal but still with enough vigor that the class barely misses a beat.

When it ends you see him still just sitting on the stool before he moves to get up with a grunt as you stand in front of him. "I owe you a meetin' don't I? Last class of the day, right?"

You nod, smiling softly. "You know my schedule too well, Elvis. Last class. So I can be in the office as long as I'd like. If you're not too-"

"Don't ya accuse me of being too tired, Y/N." He starts to walk to the door and motions for you to follow him. "'m older than you all. Can't always bounce back as quick. 'll be fine come Monday. Provided I can get through all these papers Joe decided on assigning y'all."

There's a response at the tip of your tongue that you swallow until you reach his office, watching as he flops onto the couch, his bag falling next to him and his cane following suit. You make sure to not startle him and sit on the coffee table in front of him, your hands moving to touch his knees as you speak. "I could help you with them. The papers I mean. I've- I'm pretty light on my classwork this weekend so I don't mind."

His eyes dart around your face, trying to find a lie in what you've said only to come up with nothing. You're being genuine in wanting to help him and that has a rush of fire traveling from his chest to every part of his body. He's gotten used to women he dates not necessarily caring the way you are right now. Not for the first time since his first class with you he finds himself falling more for you than he already was. It almost makes him feel like a younger man again, makes him feel like that young man tripping over his words with girls while also making him feel like that young man who had girls falling all over themselves for him because of his hips. He sees your face morphing into one of regret before he nods. "If- If you don't mind spendin' a while wit' me 'll definitely take the help."

A smile crosses your features as you grab his bag and start to pull out the papers, splitting the first pile out between the two of you and leaving the room to grab you both Pepsis. He watches you leave and exhales slowly rubbing his face with his hand, praying to every god he knew that he could keep himself in check with you acting so helpful near him like this. When you come back there's a moment where he's about to say something before he stops himself, allowing himself to just focus on the papers, kicking up his feet on the couch while you take his desk. His door is locked as to prevent interruptions and you both find that time passes by quicker than it does when you have conversations. He yawns, looking at the time to see that it's about 5PM and curses to himself. You had been there for five hours with him with no real break. Sparing a glance at you he sees that you're leaning your head on one hand and chewing a red pen with the other. The image of the pen entering your mouth has his cock showing a slight bit of interest before he shifts in his seat and coughs to get your attention.

"Y/N. It's gettin' late you- I'm plannin' on headin' home, 'less you wanna come wit' me, why don't ya just-"

You wave him away with a flap of your hand. "I'll come with you, just let me finish this one. I'm almost done." You pause and look up. "I- I don't have to come home with you."

He should tell you that you shouldn't come home with him and that if you did he didn't trust himself to not do something stupid but something about the way you sounded so earnest made him stop. He was a grown man, he could stop himself from being stupid with you. He could stop himself from pulling you in for a kiss and taking you to bed. He could resist the urge to do all those things, after all, wasn't he already? "I offered, darlin'. Just hurry up."

It takes you longer than you admit to finish looking over the paper as you keep getting distracted by looking at Elvis off and on. Watching him clean up his office just a bit before you finally finish and he whisks you away to his car a black cadillac that you feel fits him surprisingly well. The car ride is quiet and you both don't dare to look at the other for fear of saying something you might regret later. There's a thought in the back of your mind to make a move- that this would be the perfect time to make a move but you stomp down on that thought, knowing that this isn't right. This can't be the right time, not right after he's come back sick and looking haggard. No, you can wait just a little longer. Especially once you see just how big his house is. Honestly, you'd define it as a mansion if you're being one thousand percent honest but it's his as he casually reminds you as he opens the door for you to exit the car.

"Home sweet home." He pauses. "I have a lot of guests over and- the rooms help for them."

"I wasn't going to ask." You whisper, taking in the sights of everything as you enter the house.

Elvis tells you to get settled in the living room where you find a record player and a sea of records nearby. You know that sometimes Elvis like to incorporate gospel into his classes but these records aren't just gospel. In fact some of them are his records. Your ears hear Elvis's cane even as it's muffled by his carpet in the room and you can't help but ask the first question that comes to mind the longer you stare at the records.

"You used to do music?" You ask innocently enough as you flick through the records, stopping on one whose cover makes you chuckle a little to yourself as you pull it out. The man in front of you and the man on this cover are the same person- you can tell in the eyes but physically they're two very different people and as you glance back at Elvis setting down two Pepsi's and some you find this one is the one you prefer over the one on the cover. 

His eyes flick up to you as you fiddle with his record player and place the record on it. He looks down at the floor, a rare show of bashfulness that you find yourself smiling at as he finally speaks. "Aw hell, yeah. Back before everythin', back before I got drafted I did. Stopped- right 'bout '60? Made my manager mad as hell but I couldn't do it no more. Constantly gettin' told I was doin' things wrong, being a bad impression on the youth. I wasn't that old ya know? Wasn't that much older than the youth they wanted to say I was corrupting. Like everythin' I did wasn't t'make sure my mama- god rest her soul- and my daddy and my grandma were taken care of." Elvis pauses when he realizes just what record you put on and he has to hold back the urge to just stare at you. Of all his songs. Now or Never?

He runs his tongue across the front of his mouth and just looks at you before crossing the room in a few short strides. A short exhale leaves your mouth, almost a reverse gasp as you find yourself a bit startled by the way a switch appeared to be flipped with him. You’ve never been the most demure but you find yourself looking down for a moment before you feel his hand underneath your chin. You find that your brain seems to shut down looking at Elvis. There’s something in his eyes as he looks at you, something that you can’t quite put your finger on but it’s heady and has your body shivering just slightly at the intensity of whatever emotion is hidden his blue eyes. 

“Can I hear you sing?” You ask before scrunching up your face. In all the times you’ve been talking about class and occasionally about things outside of it, he had never mentioned a music career. This had to be something he didn’t like to talk about and here you were asking him to sing. Even though you want to hear it- you’re starting to- you have been caring about him too much to put him in too much discomfort. Your mouth opens to tell him he doesn’t have to before you hear it as he pulls you closer to him.

His voice is deeper than in the recording, fuller you suppose but it sounds no less beautiful, no less rich and inviting than it does on the recording. The vibrations of the song, of his lungs and of his throat and chest as he sings settle something you didn’t know was giving you a problem. It’s then that you take a chance, a stupid chance you feel like you might regret, of just leaning your head on his chest. He doesn’t push you away and he’s thankful you can’t see him looking at you, can’t see inside his head and realize that he wants to just stroke your hair. He wants to feel you this close to him more often than not, he wants to have you be this gentle and comfortable with him. It’s easy enough to tamp down on the urge though, to tamp down on even telling you this instead choosing to start to sway along with the music. You pick up quickly, swaying back and forth as you listen to him sing, noting that some lines seem to be getting more attention than others.

Maybe you're just imagining it, maybe it's just the natural cadence of the song but you shut your eyes as you sway, allowing yourself to pretend he's saying things like "my soul surrendered" and "I spent a lifetime waiting for the right time" to you. That he's singing those to you while in your bedroom, or maybe in another life while he's on stage, telling everyone that he loves his- girlfriend more than anything. You look up to try and meet his eyes only to realize that he's not looking at you so you sigh remembering it's only a fantasy but one you're willing to indulge in, perhaps one you can make a reality if you just took the plunge, if you just finally admitted to him that you wanted to be with him intimately and more. His heartbeat feels fast but you've never been close enough to listen, close enough to hear how his heart beats a strange percussion just for you. The song is reaching its end you think and you feel Elvis's lips- you think- on top of your head, kissing it softly as he practically whispers a line of "kiss me my darling, be mine tonight" against your hair. 

He's asking you, he's begging you he thinks but you don't notice. You don't realize as you hum along as the song ends, his heart threatening to twist at how it feels so goddamn natural to have you like this- to have you in his arms. It's silly, what he does next and he's ready to play it off if you hear him but he places another kiss at the crown of your head and whispers soft as a church mouse "my love won't wait". 

You can hear him just barely but your mind knows better, it knows that he can't be meaning that. This is just him trying to charm you like other professors have. Your heart though, your heart beats faster, threatening to escape from your chest after hearing it. Maybe- maybe you're not wrong, maybe you're not wrong when you think this is different. Maybe Elvis actually is different than the others. Still- you're not- you want to be the one to make the first move but not here, not in some place as intimate as his home. It's with a heavy heart that you pull back from him, looking up at him with a smile that you hope doesn't betray how delighted you are to hear what he's said to you.

"We should eat." You whisper, not trusting your voice to go any higher but figuring he can hear you even as the record flips to play some song with the words make me know it in it.

He pulls away fully from you and moves to sit down where he set the food and nods. "Course. Then we'll get back t'work."

As it turns out you only get about three more hours of work in before you hear him snoring lightly next to you in his lounge clothes. You don't know when he fell asleep but you see how his body is contorted into something that you figure is him trying to get comfortable and realize that maybe he might feel more comfortable sleeping in his own bed. Shaking him awake isn't the easiest thing but after about a minute he looks at you blearily, his eyes blinking to try and focus on you.

"Come on, big boy, to bed with you." You try and wiggle yourself under his arm, forcing him off the couch a little before he grumbles something and moves into a proper sitting position. He's still not standing up but it's progress, especially when he follows suit as you stand up from the couch, leaning just a bit on you as he tries to get his legs to work to move in the way you need him to.

Elvis is surprisingly easy to maneuver for someone who you'd think once he starts to doze off would practically be dead weight, but you still find that he leans on you a little more than you'd like, than you feel you can handle in the moment. Not for the first time tonight you find yourself looking at his face, seeing the little wrinkles by his eyes, seeing the stubble growing on his chin and realizing he looks exhausted and just at least mildly like he's seen better days. You feel your heart twist at the knowledge that even with you coming here tonight, he's likely in for less rest than you think he needs in the coming weeks trying to catch up. A part of you is thankful that Elvis had changed into his lounging clothes when the two of you had gotten to his house, after all if he hadn't have you might have had to help him change in his state right now and- you truly don't trust that you would have been able to keep your touches helpful and chaste.

As it stands you get him to the bed after pulling down the sheets and lightly push him to give him the hint to lay down. In a moment of clarity, he looks at you as if to voice his displeasure at the idea before he frowns and doesn't argue. Once he's settled himself in with your assistance when he gets his legs tangled in the sheet a little you pull the sheets up, almost tucking him in before placing a soft kiss upon his forehead. You're about to pull away before you feel his hand moving to grab your wrist and hear his sleep addled voice speaking. 

"Stay 'ere, Belle. Stay wit'me."

You freeze, unable to move between his grip on your wrist and the shock of what he said just now coursing through your veins and bouncing in your brain. This has got to be a dream, you both fell asleep on the couch and you're dreaming. This is not real. His grip loosens as his eyes flutter shut and his head lolls to the side. You manage to pull away but not before you place yet another kiss to his forehead and walk over to the bedroom door. The words that leave your mouth are barely audible but you know what you say. "Not tonight, Elvis. Not tonight, my Big Daddy. Maybe another night."

The walk back to the couch is lonely and a bit cold if you're being honest, despite the heat in the house. Elvis's jacket is sitting on the couch in plain view of you as you hug your own jacket closer to you. Your eyes drift to the plates that you had left on the table before you head to clean them, setting them where they need to go. A thought crosses your mind to head home but you realize you don't have your car and you're not about to try and drive his home. The couch isn't an ideal place to sleep but you figure it'll do for tonight, at least until Elvis wakes up. There's no blankets around but there is his jacket and you allow yourself to cover yourself with it, inhaling the unique scent of cigars and old spice and everything else that makes up Elvis. The warmth of the jacket has your eyes falling shut quicker than you think is possible.

It's warm when you wake up, warm enough that you take more time than is perhaps necessary to actually open your eyes and register your surroundings. You shift just a little only to realize that where you are at the present moment and where you fell asleep are two completely different places. You had been on the couch alone covered in a mix of your jacket and Elvis's, inhaling the unique musk that was him. It made you feel as if you had taken him up on his offer and joined him in bed, his arms enveloping you and keeping you warm despite the slight chill in the house. You still can smell that unique musk and you can still feel the warmth that accompanied it but your eyes flit down to your waist where even in the dim early morning light you can see the outline of Elvis's arm, you can feel his arm wrapped around you pulling you close. You shift again, trying to see if there's any give to his arm only to have him tighten it as his head moves down to the back of your neck and nuzzles, growling ever so softly. 

"Too early, darlin'. Stayin' right 'ere." He mumbles against your neck, placing soft kiss there. "No early bird this mornin'"

You can feel his arousal against your backside and you tamp down on the urge to grind against it, knowing that as much as you want to that's not what- you can't do that when he's still asleep like this. Still, a sigh erupts from your mouth as you feel him shift causing it to thrust up against you just a bit. How had you even gotten in here, last thing you had remembered was being on the couch. Had you walked back here in your sleep? Had you been craving his warmth and his embrace so much that you had done something as silly as this in your sleep? No, you- maybe you had. You needed to leave- you could stay here not for him to see you when you woke up. He had gone to bed alone even if he might not have fully realized it so he needed to wake up alone just the same. If he didn't maybe he'd- no Elvis wouldn't hurt you. He was different but you didn't want to risk the anger, risk seeing his face contort into something you didn't recognize because you let yourself be greedy before you had properly planned. You needed to talk to him before something like this happened. Every card needed to be on the table before you allowed yourself this guilty pleasure of waking up in his arms enveloped by a heat and what feels like maybe the first smatterings of an honest love.

It takes you twenty minutes to detangle yourself from Elvis's arms as you struggle not to wake him and as his arms tighten around you every time you so much as think of moving but you finally manage to grab a pillow that you use to replace your body slowly but surely as you move out of his grasp.

A pillow is a poor substitute for you, and you’re aware of it, knowing fully well that at best it’ll buy you maybe ten or twenty minutes before he’ll wake up and realize you’re not there. Even now you can hear him mumbling your name in his sleep interspersed with Belle, it makes your heart jump into your throat, seeing him clutch the pillow as if it’s the only thing allowing him happiness. He’s- even if he’s meaning you he doesn’t know you probably crawled in here after having a hard time falling asleep or that you slept walked into there. He wouldn’t have reacted well to seeing you in the bed with him, let alone as curled up together as you were. Even as he clutches the pillow he looks so happy, the smile playing on his face as he holds the pillow close. You knew you were doing the right thing, knew that if you didn’t he might regret letting you come to his house and everything up to this moment would be for naught and truthfully you’re not entirely sure your heart would be able to take the rejection that you figure would come when he awoke. 

The overwhelming desire to stay there, to crawl back into bed with him chokes you the longer you look at him, look at the empty space beside him before you remind yourself why you’re leaving. Elvis won’t- he won’t do anything to you, you don’t think and yet. You allow yourself the pleasure of placing your hand in his hair, running it through the strands and hearing a relaxed sigh leave his mouth as any tension he had in his shoulders leave them. Before you go you place a kiss to his forehead, mirroring what you had done earlier that night and without much noise you sneak out of his bedroom, grabbing your jacket on the couch before you sneak out the front door as well.

Elvis wakes up about an hour later, his brain not catching on immediately to the fact that you had become a pillow, allowing himself to grind against it for a moment before his eyes shoot open and realize you’re gone. His brain blanks on anything but this one thought.

“Now you’ve gone and left me alone too?”

taglist: @elvisgirl35, @butlersluvbot, @lokis-right-femurr, @godlypresley, @steph-speaks, @lindszeppelin, @eliseinmemphis, @thatbanditqueen, @venus-haze, @lrd98, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @aconflagrationofmyown and @butlersxbirdy

[headfullofpresley]

Puppet on a string

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader (can be Austin!Elvis as well)

Word count: 3,2K

Warning(s): cheating, BIG age gap (14 years), toxic relationship, reader was underaged when they met, slight abuse? (he grabs her arm once), elvis being an asshole dominant, reader is naive and in love, smoking, teeny tiny smut (if you squint real hard), angst, my shitty writing.

Author’s note: This is a pretty heavy piece of writing and can be triggering to people, so I advice to really read the warnings. Some things in this were inspired by Priscilla’s book, and some things were made up by myself. Enjoy, babies <3

‘‘Don’t you think nineteen is too young to be played by your dark twisted games when I loved you so? I should’ve known.’’

The carpet of your shared bedroom with your boyfriend of two years burned underneath the soles of your bare feet as you paced back and forth. The crumbled up piece of paper between your fingertips felt heavy in your left hand, the mix of emotions that were running through you making your head spin.

Once again you had found something that indicated that the man you loved more than life itself had been unfaithful to you. Sometimes it would be a pair of panties you’d find in the pocket of his slacks when you were folding his clothes, or the smell of perfume on his collar that didn’t belong to you. This time it was a telegram you found neatly folded in a shoe box when you were reorganizing your shared wardrobe.

Last night was amazing, miss you already. x A

You had no idea how long the message had been there or when it had been sent, but deep down inside, you weren’t even surprised anymore.

It has been this way for as long as you could remember and being hopelessly in love, you ignored the warnings and red flags that were right under your nose. You ignored your family and friends’ worries, even ignored your mama when she accused you of losing your mind. Not only were you stepping into a relationship with a 31 year old man at the young age of 17, you were stepping into a world that was completely foreign to you. Now, two years later, you still weren’t used to the screaming and flirting girls who got too close to your man, or the amount of people that were always coming in and out of Graceland. It was hard to get a moment alone with Elvis other than late at night in your bedroom ─ people were always trying to get his attention, getting him to spend time with them, and he happily went along with it.

You felt like you were being pushed to the background of his life and it made you grow jealous and suspicious. You didn’t mind the guys coming over to the house and would often hang out with them yourself, but you hated whenever random girls came along after nights out. Elvis always assured you they were more interested in the other guys than him, but he’d also tell you to not make up things in that ‘’pretty little head of yours’’.

He had a way with words and he always knew what to say to make you think you were seeing things that weren’t there.

Elvis Presley was the greatest manipulator that you had ever met, but you just couldn’t seem to shake him off.

The sound of a car door slamming shut visibly startled you and made you stop pacing, walking over to the window instead. Pulling the curtain aside, you saw Elvis including entourage walking up the steps that led to the front door and your heart skipped a beat, looking down at the telegram that you were still squeezing in your hand. The silence in the house was interrupted by the men entering and you quickly folded the paper, shoving it in your bra before leaving the bedroom and descending the staircase.

You feigned a bright smile at the men, hopping over to your boyfriend to plant a kiss on his lips. You were still angry, still planning on confronting him even though you knew that never ended well, but right now you were too nervous. You wouldn’t do it in front of other people and even though Elvis seemed to be in a good mood, you were also aware of how fast that could change.

The house was full of people for the most part of the late afternoon and evening, and you hated it. You were trying to act normal but after dinner was over, you were getting impatient.

Elvis was still sitting at the head of the table, telling stories and puffing on his cigar. He had everyone hanging onto his every word, even though they have all heard his stories a million times before. When the door bell rang, you gave up on your idea to confront him about the telegram and leaned your forearms on the table, sighing deeply as you took a sip of your wine. You felt Elvis’ eyes burning on the side of your face, but you ignored it, already knowing he’d have a lot to say about the way you were acting later tonight.

Jerry got up from the table to open the door, returning with a ginger haired beauty on his side. Hour glass figure, crystal blue catlike eyes and red stifted lips. Even you were taken back by her presence for a second and it didn’t seem like you were the only one.

As Jerry introduced her to everyone in the room as Donna, a close friend of his, Elvis was up and out of his seat, pulling a chair back at the table for her. Donna fluttered her eyelashes at him as she thanked him and sat down and you immediately felt jealousy creeping into your veins, throat tightening up. You were not going to cry, not in front of everyone at the dining table.

Elvis returned to his seat next to you, lazily slouching his arm on the backrest of your chair.

‘‘What is that perfume you’re wearin’, doll? Smells real good,’’ he said and as you turned your head to look at him, his eyes weren’t on you. No, they were on Donna, those stupid beautiful plumb lips of his turned up into a smirk.

‘‘Oh why, thank you. It’s Chanel Number Five,’’ she replied, smiling sweetly his way and you clenched your jaw, forehead frowning in annoyance.

It was the exact same perfume you were wearing and the only time he ever complimented you on it was when he bought it for you.

Elvis looked at you, lifting his hand to let his index finger tap your forehead, a silent warning to make you relax your face again. He often did things like that. Whenever he noticed you were slouching when walking, he’d comment on it, remind you it wasn’t ladylike. He picked out most of your outfits when you’d be leaving the house with him, making sure you looked appropiate enough to uphold his image.

Whenever he didn’t like the way you applied your make-up or did your hair, he’d make you go back upstairs and redo it until it was done right. To his taste. You knew that the relationship you found yourself tangled in was unhealthy, to some even toxic, but you were young and in love.

Stupidly so.

‘‘Anythin’ on your mind, honey?’’ He whispered to you and you squeezed the hem of your dress underneath the table when you felt his hot breath against your cheek.

Even though you couldn’t see, you knew your knuckles were turning white in your lap. You hated that no matter how angry you were, or how heart broken you felt whenever you found something that belonged to another female, he still had this effect on you. Making your heart leap in your chest, blood running straight to your cheeks.

Elvis was also aware of the power he had over you and he used that power against you more times than he should, and more times than you liked to admit.

‘‘You’re lookin’ a little flushed. Are you getting sick?’’ he questioned softly, the combination of his deep voice and the back of his hand pressing against the side of your neck not helping the current state you were in at all.

You could smell the smoke of the cigar burning right behind your head where it still hung between his fingertips, his arm not leaving the back of the chair even though ashes were threatening to spill to the floor. You cleared your throat a little and reached for your glass, taking a few small sips, hoping the alcohol would distract you. The only thing it did was making you even hotter than you already were.

You decided to turn your head to Elvis and look him straight in the eye.

Big mistake.

His eyes were boring right back into yours, teasing eyebrow raised, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Your fingertips clenched around your glass which was still in your hand and swallowed at the feeling of butterflies errupting throughout your entire body. In hindsight, those should’ve been a warning to you all along, but ofcourse.. you ignored them.

When it came to Elvis, you ignored everyone and everything. Like a magnet he pulled you in and kept you right where he wanted to, as if you were a puppet on a string.

His puppet.

‘‘N-no,’’ you said, hoping he missed the way you stammered. He didn’t, but did not comment on it.

‘‘I’m just feeling tired. I think the wine’s getting to my head,’’ you lied, letting out a small laugh and he hummed softly, leaning forward to capture your lips in a kiss. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough to make you forget you had been angry with him in the first place. And it completely made you forget about the folded telegram that was still hidden in your bra.

‘‘Let’s go to bed,’’ he whispered, moving away from you and even though it felt as if you were able to breathe normally again, you already missed the force of his presence close to you.

He pushed his cigar out in one of the ash trays that was closest to him on the table and took your hand into his, getting up. Everyone at the table immediately turned their heads, looking at him questionably. They were waiting for his word, for his approval to be allowed to stay or not.

He granted it to them, telling Jerry to not let things get out of hand too much. The other man gave him a nod and you gave Jerry a soft smile, ignoring the way Elvis squeezed Donna’s shoulder when he pulled you along with him out of the dining room.

You followed him upstairs and into your bedroom, stepping out of the pumps you had been wearing the moment since he came home. Elvis’ arms were wrapped around your waist from behind before you could even make it to your shared bed, his lips attached hungrily to your neck. Your hands grabbed onto his as your eyes met your own in the full length mirror you two were in front of.

With your cheeks flushed and lips parted, you almost didn’t recognize the girl staring back at you.

As a little girl you always dreamed of meeting a man that would care for you, loved you and only you. A man that didn’t just see you as a doll to dress up and prance around with in public. You had always wanted so much more than that.

You wanted more from Elvis, but you knew that was nothing more than wishful thinking.

As his hands moved up to your breasts and his tongue flicked at your earlobe, you realised that you’d rather live a lie than lose him.

The moment his hand squeezed your right breast, you heard the crunch of the paper underneath your clothing. It was absolutely deafening when you were reminded of the telegram.

Elvis heard it too and his hands came to a stop, as did his kisses.

He lifted his head out of your neck and looked at you through the mirror, laughing softly as he raised his eyebrows.

‘‘What’s that?’’ he questioned and maybe if your face hadn’t heated up and maybe if your eyes hadn’t widened in slight panic, he would’ve believed you when you told him it was probably just the tag you forgot to cut out of the piece of lingerie.

He wasn’t an idiot, unfortunately for you.

‘‘You’re lyin’,’’ he simply stated, stepping back and turning you around with his hands on your shoulders.

‘‘Take it off, Y/N,’’ he said, but to you it felt more like an order.

You didn’t miss the warning tone his voice held and you knew the best thing to do here was to just do as he said and take off your dress. But you were nailed to the ground, staring at him, throat tightening up as tears prickled at your eyes.

Once you’d undress, you were going to have to show him what you had hidden in there and he certainly was not going to be happy about that.

‘‘Elvis, it’s nothing. Let’s just go to bed, okay? I’m tired,’’ you said, trying to walk by him to get to the ensuite bathroom to wash up for bed, but you were pulled back by his rough hand.

You looked down at his fingers that were wrapped around your arm, digging into your skin painfully. ‘‘You’re hurting me,’’ you told him, panic obvious in your voice.

Never in your entire relationship had he laid a hand on you and when he saw a tear rolling down your cheek, your lower lip trembling, he realised what he had done. Immediately, he pulled his hand back and let go of your arm, but instead of apologizing he told you to undress again.

You rolled your eyes up to the ceiling, quickly wiping away the tear and trying to hold back the flood that was uncomfortably waiting to be released. You pulled down the side zipper of your dress and let the fabric fall down your arms and onto the ground, kicking it aside roughly.

Bringing your arms to your back, you unclasped your bra and threw it aside, catching the telegram in your hand as it fluttered down. Before he could snatch it out of your hand, you slapped the piece of paper against his chest and walked off into the bathroom, slamming the door shut with as much noise and strength you could muster.

Elvis’ movements were quick when he strided over to the door, swinging it back open before you had a chance to lock it. You didn’t hold back the sob that spilled out and your hands flew to your face, hiding from him as you turned around, hunching over the sink.

You didn’t know how things had gotten this bad and why you were allowing it to get this far. You didn’t even know who you were anymore, other than Elvis Presley’s girlfriend. You didn’t have a job, no plans for college, no money of your own. You just sat in this big house looking all pretty, waiting for your man to come back home and give you attention. And even that was not always garantueed.

You needed a way out, go back to your parents and find out who you really were. You had to run ─ away from Graceland, away from people that would give you nasty looks for holding the hand of the man they idolized, away from Elvis.

But as soon as you felt his arms wrapping around you and his lips were in your hair, you were right back to zero.

You allowed yourself to be pressed against his firm chest, letting him squeeze you in his embrace as if he was afraid you could disappear into thin air any second now. With your face still in your hands, you only cried harder.

‘‘Sssh, baby. It’s alright,’’ he whispered, consoling you by rubbing his hand up and down your back. The rings that adorned his fingers were cold against your heated skin and you pulled your face out of his chest, removing your hands. They remained on his chest, squeezing the fabric of his shirt in your palms.

‘‘The telegram is old, little one, from way back before I even met you. You don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing, okay?’’ he told you, gently taking your face in between his hands, his thumbs caressing away your tears.

‘‘What about.. What about the other things? I found panties in your back pocket last week, Elvis,’’ you said, feeling anger surface again as you pushed him backwards. You ran your hands through your hair, shaking your head as tears were still spilling down your cheeks. Cheeks puffy and eyes red, you looked at him.

He could see how exhausted you were, how broken you were, and it was all because of him.

He hated himself for being this way, and he hated for making you feel like this, but he wouldn't change. For no one.

‘‘Y/N baby, that’s.. nothing. None of ‘em mean anything to me,’’ he said, raising his voice a little, and you didn’t know whether it was to get his point across or to show dominance. To you, it was the latter.

He was a dominant person by nature ─ fucking Capricorns.

Stepping closer to you again, he grabbed onto your wrists and pulled you into his chest.

‘‘You’re the only one I love, Satnin. You’re my special little one and there’s no one that could compare to you,’’ he said, his voice coming back to a normal volume, a hint of determination lacing his tongue. He knew that by him calling you Satnin, he’d have you right in the palm of his hand. After his mother passed, you were the only one who he used the pet name with and it made you feel special.

It made you feel like you were the only girl in the whole wide world that he loved and cherished.

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ he whispered, letting go of your wrists and placing his hands back on your cheeks, pressing his lips softly against yours.

For a second, you contemplated on pushing him away and to have another go at him, maybe even threaten to leave him if he wouldn’t change his ways. But even if you did, you would not only be fooling him, but yourself too.

Because the truth was… you were never going to leave this man’s side, you were never going to leave Graceland. You found yourself tangled in a web you couldn’t get out of and when he was kissing you like this and holding you like you were a porcelain doll, you had no desire to leave anymore.

As usual, you turned to putty right under his touch, ready to do whatever he asked of you.

When he pulled back and looked into your eyes, you grabbed onto his wrists, clinging onto him for dear life. ‘‘Now dry those tears of yours and get ready for bed, so I can make it up to you,’’ he smiled softly and you felt your knees weakening at the sight.

Any other sane woman would’ve smacked him right across the face and tell him to stick it somewhere the sun don’t shine, but you were anything but sane. This blue eyed devil had you right under his thumb, dancing to his every tune like a puppet on a string.

And just like you had done for the past two years, you allowed him to.

If you hadn’t already, you learned that in order to be together with Elvis and for him to keep you by his side ─ it was best not to ask too many questions.

[powerofelvis]

You’re Not Alone

Pairing: Elvis x Reader, Austin!Elvis x Reader

Word Count: 1096

Warning(s): A tearjerker in its own right, Angst, a lil’ fluff, you’ll probably cry because seeing Elvis cry is enough to cry.

A/N: This was a request from @loveforelvis. I really wanted to write this because I have yet to write about Elvis losing his mama and I needed something to cry about. I hope this is good and I hope that I wrote to you expectation, darlin’! Our poor boy.

—————————————————————————————————

The news of Gladys’ death shocked you beyond words. You were worried about the Presleys—mainly Elvis. Everyone around town knew how close Elvis was with his mother but only you knew the depths of their relationship. Elvis told his mother everything and he didn’t do anything without her opinion. You were at his home, helping Vernon out with things that Gladys used to do. You would help the cooks cook dinner, clean, and with everything else that you could do. However, while you were staying at Graceland, you would hear Elvis cry himself to sleep every night. The pain in his cries would break your heart into millions of pieces but you didn’t know what to do about it. You could tell that Elvis was waiting for everyone to go to sleep before he would cry. He didn’t want anyone to hear him cry, especially you.

During the day, Elvis would pretend that everything was fine, but in his heart, he was lost. His mother was his bestest girl, nothing could ever get in between them. So how did death rip her away from him so soon? He knew that he couldn’t help that he was going overseas soon to serve in Germany, but he didn’t think that his mother would suffer as much as she did. That is what hurt him the most, that she suffered silently—not reaching out to anyone about her fears of losing her only son to the war. During times that he was sure that no one would be in his parent’s room, he would sit in her closet, sobbing as he held the bottom of her dresses against his face. He could still smell the specific perfume that only he knew she wore.

He would spend weeks going back to the same spot, sitting on the ground, crying into her dresses. His father would try to convince him to come out of the closet, but he would only tell him that this was the only way he could be close to his mama. Sighing, Vernon didn’t know what to do, so he turned to the only person who knew Elvis as well as Gladys did—you. “All he does is sit in the closet, crying into Gladys’ dresses, darlin’.” Vernon said that night, sobbing into his arm. “My boy is lost, Y/N. I can’t help him. He won’t listen to me. I’m scared that he will be too far gone.” He said, reaching out to take your hands. “Please..help my boy. He trusts you. He needs you.” He said as he stood up, patting your shoulder as he went to cry in the room he once shared with his beloved.

You didn’t know what you could do to help Elvis, but it was at that moment that you realized that you had to give your all. Vernon had already told you the times that Elvis would go to that closet, so you waited until you could hear his heartbreaking sobs, crying out for his mama to return to him. You walked into his parents’ room, standing by the closet door, tears falling down your cheeks as your heart broke again. You didn’t know if you could handle seeing him come apart again and again, not having Gladys. You knocked on the door frame, watching as his eyes snapped up to you. “Hey there, bewbie.” You whispered. Other than his mother, you also found yourself calling him that beloved nickname. Elvis sobbed again, hearing the name pass from your lips. Oh how did he miss laying his head on his mama’s lap as she ran her fingers through his hair, singing gospel songs. “Your daddy is worried about you.” You said as you crotched down in front of him. “I don’t wanna go anywhere, I-I just wanna stay here forever.” His voice cracked as he sobbed into his mama’s lavender dress.

She remembered how beautiful she looked in that dress, Elvis had bought it for her with his first paycheck working with Crown Electric. She wore that dress proudly. She sighed, sitting down beside him. “We all miss her, bewbie. But nobody can replace her. Nobody.” You whispered as you scooted closer to him. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. I am here, your daddy is here, and so is Dodger and Delta.” You whispered, taking his hand into yours, rubbing the back of it with your thumb. He sobbed as he laid his head on your lap, still clutching on to the lavender dress that had now fallen off of the hanger. You ran your fingers through his raven colored locks, humming his mama’s favorite song. All the while, Elvis was silently crying at the sound of his mama’s favorite song coming from your lips.

“Thank you, baby. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He sobbed as he laid in your arms, allowing you to hold him as long as he needed you to. Once he couldn’t cry anymore, he would sit in the closet with you, reminiscing on the memories that the both of you shared with Gladys. There were funny stories, which made Elvis laugh for the first time since she passed. You were glad to see his beautiful smile again, but you knew it wouldn’t last for long before you would find him again in the closet, the next day. However, it didn’t stop you from repeating the same routine of holding him until he either passed out from crying or sitting up, asking you to sing to him. Eventually, Elvis would ask you to come to the closet with him as he wanted to spend time with you away from everyone else. You didn’t mind though, wanting to spend as much time as you could with him.

This routine continued until it was time for him to go overseas. “Are you sure you’re ready to leave? I know you’re still mourning Satnin.” You said, holding his hands. “I have to go back, baby. I can’t take more time off like I wanted.” He sighed, moving his hand up to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Well if you ever need someone to talk to, whether it is to rant or cry, you know that I’m only one phone call away.” You said, pressing your lips to his cheek. You wanted Elvis to stay, but you know that he had to go serve the country. Even though this separated him and Gladys, you wanted to make sure that it didn’t do the same for the two of you.

Taglist: @lovininapinkcadillac @lindszeppelin @headfullofpresley @cchl @loveforelvis @oh-my-front-door @rainydayz101 @venus-haze @ash-omalley @oh-kurva @aconflagrationofmyown

[emmie-tt]

Okay! I go home tonight and i’ll have my computer again, due to personal reasons, i’ve been staying with my parents for awhile and have only had my phone. I’ll get started on ‘Never comin home’ tonight and hopefully have it up and posted by Sunday, i’m so damn sorry for being so MIA and silent!!!

[wanderingelvis]

Omggg cg!Elvis x littleF!reader who’s sick and keeps slipping into littlespace cuz of how sick she is so he takes care of her despite the possibility of him getting sick? 🥺

Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you like it <3

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

Word count: 2,135

Pairing: Early 70's CG!Elvis x Little F!Reader

Oh Lord, you were trying so hard, so so hard to be a big girl.

You knew that Elvis had so much on his schedule, the Colonel was working him and you too by default. You'd been on the road with Elvis, helping out where you could like the good little girlfriend you were, but it had become all a bit too much and you had caught some sort of bug that was making you feel all kinds of miserable.

And when you were ill, well, that was the most sure fire way for you to slip into little space. You just weren't very good at being independent and coping with the overwhelming and horrible feelings you were having.

But you were trying, you really, really were. You didn't want to interfere with the schedule, Elvis had a lot on his mind and you'd be damned to cross paths with the Colonel when there was so much money to be made. Even when you were feeling your best, you still didn't like to even be in the same room as the Colonel.

All morning you'd felt achey, sore and tingly all over with a fever creeping in. Naturally, you'd been quieter than usual, trying to stop yourself from slipping but it was becoming inevitable.

Your body just wasn't strong enough and you felt exhausted and vulnerable as you sat in Elvis' dressing room as he did a run-through of his show tonight.

You'd found a spare blanket and you were curled up in the corner of the large couch as members of staff and the Memphis Mafia alike walked past you, a few giving concerned looks your way, in particular, Red, who watched as you rested your head on your arms and closed your eyes.

See, being in the state that you were in meant that you had absolutely no concept of time and when you were woken from the light slumber you were in, you had no idea how long you'd been asleep for.

"Baby?" That familiar deep, Southern voice hushed, laced with concern as your eyes sleepily opened, staring up at Elvis who was studying your state with worry on his face after Red had told him that you seemed unusually low today.

You blinked adorably up at him and if you weren't so apparently sick, Elvis would do the most unspeakable things to you.

Elvis sighed, realising how wiped and sick you were as he put the back of his coarse hand on your forehead to check your temperature, which was far too high for his liking.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak, you felt all achey and sore and your head was just so fuzzy that you were pretty much ready to let tears spill down your cheeks.

And Elvis could tell. He'd been with you for long enough now to know your little space 'tells'. You'd go non-verbal, your eyes would get all big and round and glossy, because even after all this time, you still got nervous about being little in front of Elvis - a fact that Elvis actually thought was very sweet and endearing. You'd start chewing on something too, whether it was your toy stuffy, your lip or your fingers, you'd chew on something as you tried to get all your thoughts in order. And there you were, chewing on your lip as you trembled from the fever.

"Oh little one, you ain't feelin' too good huh?" Elvis cooed, to which you shook your head ever so slightly. "Oh baby. Need me to look after you, princess?" Elvis asked as you pushed yourself up feebly, the blanket pooling by your waist as you nodded and rubbed your eyes sweetly.

Effortlessly, Elvis scooped you up in his big, strong arms and your head automatically went to rest on his shoulder as you began to chew on your fingers anxiously, wanting this horrible feeling to go away.

"Y/N is comin' down with somethin' nasty, I'm gon' take care of her, let everyone know they can go home, I ain't leavin' her today." Elvis said to Jerry before he carried you to his private elevator that took him right to the suite that the two of you shared at the top of the International.

As soon as the doors closed, Elvis began to rock you gently. "Gon' get you undressed baby, take off all yer clothes and get you in the tub, give you some medicine that's gon' make you feel all good n'better then we're gon' get you into bed to rest n' take it easy. How does that sound pretty girl?" Elvis soothed.

You nodded into his shoulder, feeling vulnerable and weak as he held you tightly, you couldn't help but let out a couple of sniffles too.

"Little one, d'ya think you can use your words f'me?" Elvis said. He knew you'd go non-verbal whenever you were feeling overwhelmed and little, and usually he wouldn't push you, but when you were feeling little and sick, he needed to know that you could still understand what he was saying and there wasn't anything more serious that was underlying.

"J-Just, don't feel good Daddy." You whimpered and oh if Elvis' heart hadn't broken in two when he first saw you on that couch, it certainly had now.

The name that you'd just called him was definitive confirmation that you were deep in little space and you needed to be treated as delicately as possible.

"I know baby, I know you don't, Daddy's gon' take care of you." Elvis promised, kissing the top of your head as you got out of the elevator into the suite.

Elvis wasted no time in taking you straight to the bathroom, sitting you atop the bathroom the counter as he rolled up the sleeves on his blue silk shirt, one that you'd actually picked out for him because you thought he would look "extra pretty" in it and began to run the bathtub full of warm water for you. He then went through the bathroom cabinet, through the one that held all of the medicines you may need for any particular reason, before he found the right one for your fever and chills.

"Now, you gotta be a brave girl f'me, I know this don't taste too good baby, but it's gon' help make you better, 'kay?" Elvis said as he poured the medicine onto a spoon, ready to feed you as you watched on, grimacing a bit, you hated having to take medicine.

"I don't wanna..." You practically whispered.

"Darlin', I know it ain't nice, but you gotta take it like a good girl, can you do that fr'me?" Elvis said, his tone becoming a little sterner than before, you taking your medicine is not something he was going to compromise on.

You nodded but not without small tears forming, making Elvis feel quietly guilty, he wished that it was him that was sick, he'd give anything to swap places with you. It really did pain him to see you in this state.

"Okay, open them pretty lips fr'me angel, just like that, good." Elvis encouraged as he fed you the spoon with the medicine.

He used his pointer finger on his other hand to poke just under your jaw ever so slightly to close your mouth around the spoon. "Good." He hissed, nodding in approval at how good you were being.

Slowly, he took the spoon out of your mouth as he studied your face, your eyes staring up at him as your nose scrunched up at the sour tasting medicine.

"Baby, that medicine ain't gon' do a damn thing stuck in your mouth like that." Elvis half-heartedly chuckled, knowing you were being a little too stubborn for your own good. "Swallow." He commanded gently.

And, like the good girl you were, you did just that - although with a grimace on your sweet little face the entire time.

"Good girl." Elvis praised softly, as he began to take off your clothes for your bath.

You watched as his coarse, ring-clad hands traced your skin, causing shivers to travel through your already sensitive skin. Elvis hushed you reassuringly, saying sweet nothings to reassure you that you were okay, that he was your Daddy and he was going to make you better, and you believed him.

After you were fully undressed and after Elvis checked the water temperature, Elvis helped you into the tub where you instantly loved the sensation of the hot water on your shivering skin.

"Does my little girl like that?" Elvis smiled warmly as he watched you smile for the first time today, even if it was only a small one.

You nodded as you brought your knees to your chest to rest your head on your knees, your head tilted so you could watch your Daddy.

Elvis grabbed a loofah and took to gently washing you, getting you all soapy and lathered up in the suds as he watched you practically preen in delight at his touch.

"Bein' such a good girl fr' Daddy, ain'tcha?" Elvis soothed.

"Yes Daddy." You said sweetly, your eyes closed in bliss as Elvis continued to wash you all over.

"That's right, that's my girl." Elvis praised as he held out one of your arms to wash it, as if you were some sort of a doll for him to move as he pleased. You were so malleable and so sweet and Elvis loved nothing more than to take care of you.

When Elvis was done washing you, he scooped you up out of the tub and wrapped you up in a fluffy towel, holding you tightly and peppering you in kisses, eliciting a few soft giggles from you.

He knew you were feeling little, you were so overwhelmed and he knew the last week had taken it's toll on you. You were a little people pleaser, so much so, that you'd taken on much more than sweet, little you could manage. You would comply to anyones request and you'd caused yourself to become burnt out and Elvis couldn't help but feel responsible for not stepping in sooner - even if he knew that if he had stepped in, you would've begged him to let you help out as much as possible because you were just a little angel sent from heaven. Elvis quickly got you dressed into your favourite pyjamas that you wore when you were feeling little. They had cartoon horses on them and you'd adorably named each one, one morning whilst Elvis was reading his paper and drinking his morning coffee.

He took special care as he dressed you, mindful that your body was still tender and sore.

As Elvis led you to your bed, you began to feel all drowsy and achey again, making you extra clingy and needy with Elvis, but he secretly didn't mind.

Elvis tucked you up in bed and placed your stuffed bunny in your little grasp, smoothing back your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

After placing a kiss atop of your head, Elvis began to make his way from the bedroom to let you sleep before he heard a whine come from your lips.

"Oh honey, what's the matter?" Elvis cooed, making his way back to the bed before you reached out your arms wide and made grabby hands at Elvis, making him chuckle ever so.

"Daddy, stay," You whimpered. You were not in any fit state to not be close to Elvis. "Don't go, need you." You mumbled cutely.

Elvis smirked as he began to remove his shoes and get atop the bed, next to you, placing one arm across the pillows where your head rested so that you were able to slot into his side and snuggle into him as you clasped onto your stuffed bunny too.

"I ain't goin' anywhere baby, now rest your eyes honey, you need to get your strength back little one." Elvis instructed, his fingers running through your hair, sending shivers through you as you let your eyes close.

Elvis continued to play with your hair as he reached over to his bed-side table with his other hand and grab the telephone.

"Jer? Yeah, Jer, tell the Colonel to tell whoever needs to know that the show ain't happenin' tonight, reschedule, cancel, I don't care. I gotta take care of Y/N, ain't no way I'm leavin' her tonight, not in the state she's in. Okay. Thanks Jer." Elvis said into the receiver before putting it down again.

You couldn't help but feel bad as you nestled into Elvis' side. "Daddy?" You said meekly.

"Yes baby?"

"You don't got to cancel your show Daddy." You said softly, your big eyes looking up at his blue ones.

"Little one, I ain't ever wanna do a show if you ain't in the crowd." Elvis said firmly and you knew he wasn't going to budge on the matter - and with that you drifted off in the arms of your Daddy.

[angelinajoulie]

At his mercy.

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy!

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

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

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

"As usual," you think.

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

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

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

And then, again, silence.

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

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

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

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

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

You see him.

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

Austin.

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

It suits him heavenly.

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve missed him so much.

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

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

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

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

You nod without hesitation.

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

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

“Yeah”

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

You shudder thinking about the pet name.

Good girl...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still haven't answered his question.

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

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

You got caught.

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

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

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

Austin knows everything about you.

Because he knows you too well.

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

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

Because he'll never get enough of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You aren't wearing panties. As he wished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like an angel at God's feet.

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

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

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

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

“So greedy...”

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

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

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

“Y-yes...” not enough.

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

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

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

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

“I want your cock.”

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

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

Because you know he's doing it on purpose.

He wants to hear your voice.

He wants to hear you beg.

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

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

“In m-my mouth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're a complete mess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he knows it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can't run away.

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

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

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

Now he can feel it.

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

“Please, Aus...”

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

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

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

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

“Please, I need you”

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

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

“Oh!” you feel so full. Full of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-i can't...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanna cum, angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're exhausted.

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

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

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

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

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