#elvis with his guns is such a turn on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

memphisflash · 6 months

Note

Hi!!! I saw your post and wanted to request :)

Could you write a early 70s Elvis X innocent reader, where we're one of the many girls that he brings up to his suite at the international hotel and as he expects for both of us to do the deed, he notices we're really reluctant and shy and he tells us we can do anything else instead of the dirty if we want to.

I think that would be real cute🥹

𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧

Word count: 5,1K

Warnings: virgin!reader, innocent-ish!reader, age gap (reader is 19/elvis 35), small mention of guns, reader struggling with extreme blushing, elvis poking a little fun at reader, both elvis and reader taking a sleeping pill, fluffy, smut; non-penetrative sex, dry humping/grinding, gg rubbing, elvis cummin' in readers' panties.

A/N: honestly, i'm not as good at writing innocent!reader as other writers in the fandom, buuut i had fun writing this and i kinda wanna explore this trope more - a part two is already cooking in my mind, tbh. like i told @jhoneybees this turned into more than the request but oh wellll.. let me know what y'all think, lovies! 🩷

➼ Masterlist. | Read on Wattpad

When it came to boys, you had always been shy. When it came to men, you considered yourself pretty much a disaster.

Now it wasn’t like you couldn’t have a normal conversation with someone of the opposite sex. Shy you were, but definitely not unsociable. You liked going out to places with your friends, even friends of the male kind.

But it were men like Elvis Presley that had your hands trembling and your heart beating so loud it was deafening in your ears.

Never in your 19 years of life had you expected to be approached by a member of Elvis’ entourage in the showroom of the International to ask if you were willing to meet the man himself up in his penthouse. Your first reaction was to politely decline, but your friend who had dragged you along to the concert in the first place pretty much pushed you into the arms of Sonny West – another handsome man that had got your cheeks flushing crimson, but it couldn’t compare to the effect the raven haired singer on stage had on you.

The last thing you saw as you were whisked out of the showroom was your friend putting both her thumbs up, waving as a shit-eating grin spread across her face.

Talk about peer pressure. You didn’t stand a chance.

The Imperial Suite was lush. The kind of luxury you’d never experienced before in your life. It barely felt as if you were still in a hotel, this seemed like a whole apartment with several rooms, a living area bigger than your childhood home and a seperate kitchen. The interior in the living space alone was worth more than your car, you were sure of it.

But even if you wanted to gawk at the beautiful things in the room, you didn’t had the chance to. Sonny West had left, leaving you alone with the man who you had just watched perform downstairs. The man millions of men wanted to be and millions of women wanted to be with.

You felt like a deer caught in headlights as he walked toward you, like a predator about to circle his prey. Though once he spoke, introducing himself as if you didn’t know who he was, you didn’t miss how soft spoken he was.

He wasn’t like any other superstar hauling girls up to his room to have his way with them and then kick them to the curb once he was done with them. At least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

And perhaps it was because of that naivety that you managed to calm down, so much so that you had agreed to wear one of his silky pyjama button ups, neatly folding the outfit you had so carefully picked out for tonight on a chair near Elvis’ bed.

Elvis was sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, wearing his own pair of midnight blue silk pyjamas. The first few buttons of his shirt were left open, causing his chest hair and tan skin to peek out and it instantly made you nervous all over again.

“C’mere, honey,” his voice was soft and low, his hand patting the empty spot next to him.

You stared at him for a second too long, quickly snapping yourself out of it before he’d think you were an idiot who didn’t understand the English language. You hated being like this in this moment – after all, this was a one time chance and you didn’t want to ruin it by having him think you were not interested in him at all.

You were, you really were, but this was the kind of man that could send you into a frenzy.

You sat next to him, nearly forgetting to breathe as his warm hand found home on your thigh. In a reflex, you pulled your knees up to your chest and his attention shifted to your feet.

You had recently gotten a pedicure, chosen the baby pink to go with the outfit and open toed heels you’d worn tonight, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Elvis.

“You got real pretty feet, honey,” he grinned as he slipped his hand underneath the sole of your foot, caressing his thumb across the top and over your toes, admiring the color on your nails. “So tiny and dainty, like a little doll,”

“T-Thank you,” you blurted out in a stuttered whisper, mentally slapping yourself for such a stupid reaction. But it was better than letting out the moan that was bubbling in the back of your throat, which you quickly swallowed.

His hand moved from your feet back up your leg and you froze as it slipped in between your thighs, fingertips pressing into the supple flesh of your right thigh softly as he leaned in closer to you. You looked into his blue eyes that were slightly drooped and you had no idea if it was due to fatigue or lust, but you figured it was the latter. And although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same – your stupid body seemed to have a mind of its own – your nerves prevented you from fully giving in.

As you felt his hot breath against your skin and he was going in for a kiss, your eyes automatically fluttered shut. His lips were soft and warm, and as his tongue slipped into your mouth, so wet.

You let him take the lead, not because you had never been kissed before, but because you had never been kissed by someone like Elvis Presley before. He was the kind of man that had probably kissed a thousand girls in his life and it showed in his experience – he explored your mouth in a slow but heated manner, his hand moving from your thigh to your hip and the more he leaned into you, the more you sunk into the soft pillows and sheets of his kingsized bed.

You were doing alright until his lips moved to your neck, dragging down to your collarbone and his hand creeped underneath your pyjama top, cupping your breast. It was then that your breath hitched in your throat and your muscles tensed up uncomfortably tight.

Elvis noticed it immediately and pulled his head back, looking down at your face. As he saw how flushed your cheeks and neck were and you were looking at him as if he was about to murder you, he moved his hand down your ribcage and out from underneath your top. He placed a gentle hand on your hip instead and frowned a little, his eyes gentle.

“You alright, little one?”

The sound of his voice sounding so soft and sweet made you want to burst out into tears, because you felt stupid. Stupid for freezing when the most wanted man in the world wanted you, but you couldn’t help it.

You simply weren’t ready for sex. You valued your virginity and didn’t want to lose it to a man you were probably never going to see again.

“I’ve never.. n-never..”

“Never been touched by a man,” he simply finishes your sentence for you, a soft smile raising the corner of his mouth. You nodded and looked down, noticing how quick your chest was heaving up and down as if you’d just ran a marathon.

He shushed you gently, placing his fingertips underneath your chin to make you look at him again. You didn’t know what his reaction would be, but the sweet smile and soft kiss to your forehead wasn’t what you’d expected.

“We don’t have to do it tonight, honey. I ain’t gonna force ya to do anythin’ you don’t want.”

“You’re not gonna throw me out?” you whisper with wide eyes, trying to ignore the way your bodies were still pressed together and you could feel his very prominent bulge poking against your thigh.

He let out a laugh, the sound of it deep and rich. “Ya think I was raised by wolves? No, I ain’t throwin’ you out. You’re stayin’ that cute little butt right here, and we can do somethin’ else.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, biting your lip as another flush of crimson spread up your neck and to your cheeks. He squeezed your hip softly before he sat up, bringing you up with him, and as he sat against the headboard again, he quickly draped some of the covers over his middle, hiding the fact that he was still very much turned on.

“And you stop that blushin’ before your face stays like that, little tomato,”

A wide grin settled on his face, and you could hear the playful tone in his voice which made you laugh softly. You pressed the palm of your hands against your cheeks and try to gather control over your breathing, making your cheeks slowly return to their normal state.

Instead of sleeping with the man that millions of females all over the world would call you crazy for rejecting for, you let him show you around the suite. He showed you his collection of guns that were safely stacked away in black cases which scared and intrigued you at the same time – you politely declined when he offered you to hold a gold handle hand gun, but you did admit it was very pretty.

Then he showed you around his wardrobe, from the outfits he wore on stage to the ones he wore off stage. As he noticed you particularly liked a black, somewhat see-through, blouse with white flowers on it, he handed it to you like it meant nothing to him.

Again, you declined.

But Elvis didn’t give up so easily and as you two sat on the bed again, his jewelry case opened and exposed in between the both of you, he noticed you admiring his black star sapphire ring. Not thinking twice about it, he took it out of the case and slipped it around your ring finger. As expected, it was way too big for you.

This had Elvis go through his jewelry, looking for a necklace he didn’t wear himself anymore. Had to be in there somewhere, he knew it.

“Elvis, I can’t take that,” you gasped as he took the ring off your finger again and hung it on a simple golden chain. Before you even had the chance to stop him, he was already putting it around your neck, the ring resting heavy against your chest. “Elvis, I’m serious. This is too much, you don’t have to-“

“Looks great on ya, little tomato,” he grinned as you looked at him with wide eyes, grabbing your wrist when you went to take the necklace off. You wished he’d use another nickname for you, but you ignored it for now – you had more important matters to worry about. Like the 14 karat gold ring that was hanging on your neck.

As you went to protest again, Elvis grabbed both of your hands and lowered them. Once more, you blushed as he leaned forward and placed a soft, tender kiss on your lips. “I want ya to have it and to wear it every day. Somethin’ to remember me by,”

“As if I’d ever forget you,” you whispered, looking down at the ring as you swallowed down the lump in your throat. If Elvis had heard your words or noticed that you were about to cry, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he closed his jewelry case, put it aside and settled in the sheets, half sitting up against the headboard. He opened his arms for you and you didn’t think twice to settle against his side, putting your head on his chest.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you whispered as you snuggled up against him, earning a kiss on the top of your head from him.

“My pleasure, honey.”

Luckily, in this position he couldn’t see that your cheeks were flushed and hot the way they’d been before. And as his fingers gently combed their way through your hair, you truly felt special. Something that you perhaps were not in Elvis Presley’s world, but for tonight you decided to indulge yourself in the fantasy.

Elvis picked up a book from his bedside table and with his arms wrapped around you, he opened it and started reading to you in a hushed tone. While at times the subject of the book was confusing to you, you listened with interest nonetheless. Maybe you were a little more interested in the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne, but you fought off sleep that was slowly threatening to overtake you.

You didn’t want to fall asleep, didn’t want to miss a waking second of being with Elvis.

“You gettin’ sleepy, aren’t ya?” He smirked as he peeked down at you, noticing your eyes threatening to close a few times. You immediately shook your head as you raised it and looked at him, smiling sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologized, stifling a yawn. Elvis chuckled and closed the book, putting it to the side before he turned back to you.

“Go an’ lay down,” he ordered gently as he nodded to the empty spot in the bed. You did what you were told, slowly creating some distance between you two as you laid back in the bed, giggling softly as he pulled the covers up to your shoulders, tucking you in. “Now don’t go and get all nervous again, ‘lright? I’m just gonna lay down next to ya so we can cuddle, sound good?”

You smiled at him, truly appreciating that he wasn’t trying anything you didn’t want and that he was so sweet about it all. You considered him to be a true gentleman.

As you nodded, he smiled back at you and slips underneath the covers next to you. His body warmth is intoxicating as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer against his chest. With him laying on his side, he has the perfect view of your face and he takes advantage of it by studying every little detail, his other arm slipping underneath your head so he could hold you even firmer against him. He squeezes your shoulder softly and then his hand moves to your face, fingertip poking your cheek softly.

“No blushin’…” He whispered with a small grin on his face as he noticed your cheeks were slowly turning red again. You looked at him and laugh softly, hiding your face in your hands. He immediately clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, grabbing your wrist to softly pull one of your hands away. “And ‘specially none of that..”

His whisper was low as he leaned in closer to you when he managed to pull your other hand down too, his lips finding yours once more.

You lost yourself in your second shared kiss tonight, and you felt a little more loose. Probably because he couldn’t comment on your blushing when he was kissing you.

Elvis had to force himself to keep himself under control – he wasn’t going to do anything you didn’t want, because he respected your need of not wanting to take things further, and he did truly enjoy your company without the intimacy part.

But he was still a red blooded man, and his hard cock that twitched against the fabric of his pyjama bottoms was proof of that.

And as you slowly broke the kiss and turned your back to him to hide your flushed cheeks, he took the opportunity to spoon you, your ass pressed against his cock in a way that had him humming lowly.

You didn’t move away, and he took it as content. With one arm still underneath you and one arm around your waist, he kept you close to him as he pressed his hips forward, letting you feel how hard he was.

You tensed up but as you felt him placing sweet, comforting kisses on your shoulder, neck and eventually cheek, your body relaxed again as if he was a God who could put you at ease right away.

It was a strange sensation, really… and although the way he was slowly grinding against you was definitely of sexual nature rather than just cuddling, you didn’t stop him.

Because it was turning you on more than you’d ever admit to anyone… or even to yourself.

“If you.. want me to stop.. I will.”

His breathing had quickened a little, words coming oit in a low stutter.

Telling him to stop would be a wise thing to do because you had no idea how strong your willpower was… you had no idea how far this was gonna go, or if he’d be able to stop.

But by the sounds of his low groans and soft moans, you knew it felt good to him. Really good. And even as your brain worked itself into a frenzy, you wanted to please him.

Show him that you were not completely clueless, or a little lamb that had no idea she at least had some kind of effect on men.

“N-No.. Don’t stop,” you whispered back, hiding your face in the pillow a little despite him not able to see the state your face was in.

Elvis cursed softly under his breath and took it a step further – thinking you wouldn’t notice when he tugged his bottoms down to his thighs, rubbing his bare cock against your ass. But you were only wearing his pyjama shirt and your panties, ofcourse you noticed it.

And yet, you still didn’t stop him.

The feeling of his cock against your ass had you letting out a soft moan of your own and this caused Elvis to grip onto your waist a little firmer, twirling his hips around firmly and slowly as he grunts deeply in your ear.

“Oh God, baby..” his breath was hot against your neck, his fingertips digging into your skin softly. “Such a soft ass,”

His words had your heart beating so loud you were scared that he could actually hear it, but if he did, he didn’t mention it. He was too busy focusing on the friction he was creating, working himself up more and more.

You took your face out of the pillow to inhale a sharp breath of air as his hand slipped underneath your top, fingertips grazing the curve of your breasts. You surprised yourself as your back arched and your ass pressed firmer against him, indicating you wanted him to use it to his liking.

And he did. Even had you gasping and moaning a couple of times as his cock managed to slip in between your thighs from behind, his tip and part of his length ghosting along your folds, missing your clit by inches. He apologized in a stuttered whisper every time it happened, but you could tell by the moan that rolled off his tongue that he enjoyed the feeling of his mistake.

And so did you, but you were praying he didn’t notice that your own arousal was staining your panties.

He did. He definitely did and it had him fighting the urge to tear your panties off and sink himself into you inch by inch.

His self control was stronger than he realised because he kept his hands where they were, grinding his cock against your ass, though he didn’t stop himself from making his “mistake” over and over again.

Seems like he wasn’t the only one getting worked up because as soon as you raised your leg a little, he immediately grabbed onto your thigh to keep it up. He moved closer to you, his cock resting against your clothed pussy.

“I can feel you’re wet,” he whispered in your ear, his voice raspy as he let you put your leg down again, though he didn’t move away, enjoying this close proximity.

“P-Please, d-don’t put it i-in,” you immediately said, a hint of panic evident in your face. He laughed softly and placed a hand on your tummy, keeping it there as he felt it was the safest place.

“I won’t, honey, I promise,” he said as he raised his head a little, looking down at you. You carefully made eye contact with him, cheeks flushed, teeth sunken into your lower lip. It took everything in him not to fuck you senseless right here and now. “Can I put it in your panties?”

The question sounded both innocent and like absolute filth at the same time. You blinked a few times, repeating the words in your head over and over again until you suddenly nodded, afraid you were taking too long to think about it. He smiled at you, pecking your lips sweetly as he whispered a soft “Really?” against your lips.

You nodded again.

You were curious… curious to how the skin on skin contact felt. He promised not to put it inside of you and break your virginity, and in your innocent naivety, you trusted him.

He pulled your panties aside, letting it snap back into place softly as soon as his cock was resting against your wet folds. You shuddered and gasped at the feeling of his warm length pressed against your exposed pussy, his tip putting the slightest amount of pressure against your clit.

He didn’t put his head back down again, this time leaning on his elbow so he could look at the way your face was truly resembling a tomato right now, soft breathless moans escaping you. He thought it was adorable.

His hand found him on your hip, fingertips caressing your skin softly as he started to move his hips back and forth at a snail’s pace. You swore you could hear the sound of both your essence mixing together, your arousal deliciously coating his length.

“Feels good, don’t it, baby?” He whispered as he keeps looking down at your face, not wanting to miss the way you could barely keep your eyes open, lips parted as soft moans filled his ears. He smirked a little as he could see you nod your head slowly, eyes fluttering shut.

He keeps his pace slow, afraid that if he’d go any faster he would slip in by accident and hurt you, and that was the last thing he wanted. Just because he kinda got his way with you tonight doesn’t mean he was going to overstep your boundaries.

But it was you who wanted more of that delicious feeling he was giving you. It was your self control that was threatening to slip.

“P-please.. Elvis.. faster..”

He grunts lowly at your words, lowering himself a little more on the bed again to hide his face in your neck and sprawled out hair, his hips snapping forward just a little faster. The feeling had you moaning a little louder, gripping onto his hand that was still on your stomach.

He laced your fingers together, concetrating on not fucking you by accident, no matter how much he wanted to.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he moaned in your ear, his tongue flicking against your earlobe which had your eyes roll in the back of your head. “Bet I could slip right in..”

“N-No!”

“I won’t.” he immediately said, laughing softly as he slips his other hand into yours as well. He keeps the pace steady – not too fast, and not as slow as before.

With the way you were holding each others’ hands and your most intimate parts were rubbing against each other, bare and raw, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. You hadn’t expected the night to end like this, but deep down inside you were glad it did.

Your only problem now was that you didn’t want any other man other than Elvis Presley anymore and he hadn’t even been inside of you.

You were completely ruined for anyone else.

Elvis lost himself in the pleasure and the feeling of you grinding against each other, and so did you. Part of you wondered what it would be like to have him push into you, how deep you’d be able to feel him.

Would it even feel good at all, or would it only hurt?

A million questions plagued your mind, but Elvis made you forget every single one of them with the way his cock was stroking through your folds and how lovely his moans sounded in your ear.

You weren’t planning to ask them, anyways.

Neither were you planning on taking it to that sacred part of the whole ordeal. You weren’t ready, and that’s what you’d keep repeating in your head like a mantra until you truly felt otherwise.

Besides, Elvis seemed to enjoy this just as much as the actual deed and you were right – he did. It was evident by the way he was freely moaning, the feeling of the fabric of your panties rubbing against the sensitive tip of his cock feeling like a lick of a flame against his skin.

He was close to coming undone and he didn’t try to stop himself, nor did he warn you what was coming – you’d feel it when it happened.

Squeezing your hands firmly in his own, his hips stuttering forward for a second before he pushed his hips forward firmly, you moaned shakily as strings of cum sputtered from his cock, shamelessly staining the inside of your panties. The baby blue piece of underwear that was one of your favorites was completely ruined and in your state of arousal, you couldn’t get yourself to care.

Elvis breathed heavily as he slowly let go of your hands and gripped onto your hip, groaning softly as he pulled his now soft cock out of your panties.

The loss of skin contact already had him yearning for more.

He rolled onto his back, ready to have you cuddle up to him and hold you, so imagine his surprise when you shot up out of the bed and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“Honey, you okay in there? Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to go this far,”

He sounded truly apologetic from the other side of the door. And you wished you could find the strength in your voice to tell him you weren’t mad, but rather embarrassed like hell.

You’d gone into the bathroom to take off your panties and clean yourself and after you did so, you’d caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your face was hot and as red as a cherry.

Splashing water on your face didn’t help, neither did the breathing exercises you taught yourself whenever you were blushing this much.

You felt like an absolute fool and it wasn’t until Elvis threatened to break down the door because he wasn’t getting an answer from you that you unlocked the door and faced him.

He saw the state of your face and chuckled softly, but before you could hide again, he stepped inside the bathroom and gently cupped your face.

“Jus’ breathe, little tomato. In through your nose, out your mouth,” he showed you how, as if you didn’t know what he meant, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

The nickname… not so much, but you didn’t protest.

You followed his example a few times and closed your eyes as you focused on breathing with him and the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheekbones.

You didn’t know what kind of witchcraft Elvis Presley was practicing, but he managed to help you calm down in the matter of a few minutes.

“There, all good,” he smiled as you opened your eyes to look at him, the heat disappearing from your face. He gently pulled your face closer to his own and pecked your lips, wrapping an arm around you as he took you back to bed – making sure you were wearing one of his boxershorts, before he’d get turned on all over again due to you being half naked in his bed.

Elvis settled in the sheets with you in his arms after he took a sleeping pill and when you asked him about it, he wanted to tell you no when you asked for one. But he couldn’t resist the way you fluttered your eyelashes at him and looked up at him as if he’d hung the stars and moon for you every single day the sun went down.

Your mother took sleeping pills due to her own insomnia and sometimes even when she was stressed, so it wasn’t a foreign thing to you. Elvis relented, figuring it would help you calm down a little, but he only gave you half a pill.

The two of you slipped into a relaxing state of drowsiness and with your head on his chest, you listened to the calming sound of his heartbeat. His fingers ran through your hair, twirling the ends around his fingertips, and you could hear his breathing get heavier.

Before he could fully fall asleep, you spoke up, making sure your voice was soft and sweet. “Elvis?”

“Hmm?” he squeezed your shoulder softly, pushing your body firmer against his.

“Can you.. can you give me a new nickname?”

It was silent for longer than you expected and you thought he’d fallen asleep, but before you could raise your head to check, he let out a deep amused chuckle.

“Why, honey? I like callin’ you my little tomato,” He smirked, his eyes closed, but he could picture the pout you were probably giving him as you did raise your head to look at him this time.

“It sounds weird… and I hate tomatoes..” You giggled softly, putting your chin on his chest, trailing your nail softly across his jaw.

“Fine,” he sighed softly, feigning annoyance but he let you know by the grin on his face that he was playing. As he felt your fingertip grazing along his lips, he kissed the pad of your finger. “How’s Cherry?”

“Cherry..” you whispered, testing how it sounded on your tongue.

You liked cherries a whole lot better than tomatoes.

“Alright, my sweet Cherry. Close your little eyes an’ get some sleep,” he mumbled sleepily, his hand resting at the back of your head, fingertips massaging your scalp softly.

You smiled and a flush creeped along your neck once more as you leaned in closer and kissed his lips softly. Elvis smiled and held you close as he drifted off into a deep slumber.

You did as well, sneakily reaching your hand to his bedside table to take the other half of the sleeping pill he’d given you.

There was no way you’d be able to get a proper rest on your own without the help of medication and as you fell asleep in Elvis Presley’s arms, you dreamt about what the two of you had done tonight.

Only in your dreams, you were confident to take things a step further, allowing Elvis to own you completely – body and soul.

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis headcanons #elvis presley headcanons #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n #elvis oneshot #elvis presley oneshot #tamwrites #requests

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lustnhim · 1 month

Text

დ︎ “little sister.” — elvis x fem! reader დ︎

note: based on ‘little sister’ by elvis (obvi) + requested / warnings: MDNI, non-specific age gap (elvis is 26 but idk abt the reader lol), innocence kink, purity kink, cheating (kinda), p in v sex, fingering, no protection, car sex, panty stealing elvis cause’ i'm self indulgent. / summary: elvis is dating your big sister, but after he sees you much you’ve grown– he can’t help himself.

Elvis couldn’t believe what he saw. A grown girl in place of the little doll he knew before. Upon walking into your house for dinner, he didn’t even realize it was you till you took your place at the table. His breath was caught in his throat, he couldn't even focus on what your sister was saying– every other word, in and out. Like nothing. Sure, he thought your sister was pretty, and it was true he loved her, but something was different. Something about you just..stirred something in him. Elvis' heart raced as he took in the sight of you. You still wore your hair in pigtails. Smirking to himself he nodded mindlessly as your father started talking about his work, he watched as you took small bites of your food, your head was downcast, your pretty lil’ eyes, god. He wanted to see them so bad. ‘Just raise your head, yittle un.’ He thought letting out a breathy groan.

“You alright, El?” Your sister said, his mind went blank. Snapping back to reality he looked around the table, seeing that you had finally raised your head up, confusion etched on your soft features. “Ah, yeah m’ alright. Just tired, the Colonel’s got me workin' like a dog.” Elvis joked, and your father laughed. “I’ve heard that, seems like everyday you’re in the papers.” Elvis felt his heart flutter as he made eye contact with you, trying to act casual, but his nervousness was palpable. You didn't seem to notice the tension between the two of you. Your sister, however, did. She could tell something was off, she could tell from the moment ya’ll sat down for dinner. “Can I go to the movies with sis?” You asked your father, and Elvis swallowed hard. Your voice was as sweet as sugar and as smooth as silk, that pretty innocence lingering in your voice. “Course’ honey. If that's alright with them of course–” Your father looked over at Elvis who nodded in compliance quickly, making your sister scoff. “What? C’mon- I don’t want her to go.” Your sister complained and Elvis looked over at her, his tone gentle. “Oh c’mon honey, let er’ go…she won’t bother us.” Elvis cood, taking his hand and placing it over hers in desperation. Elvis could tell your sister was annoyed. The way she shot glances at you showed that. Jealous of her younger sister…and rightfully so. A different beauty entirely, perhaps it was the innocence that radiated off of you, your full lips, those sun kissed freckles from bein’ outside, those long eyelashes, and the softness of your skin…things your sister had all but lost. Lost from runnin’ around. It was no secret to anytone that your sister liked to get around, Elvis had known for weeks what she had been doing but he never bothered with it. Too busy. But now you were here, you were somethin’ new and he wanted you.

Your sister rolled her eyes and pulled her hand out from under his, pulling her hand out from under his she crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine, you can come. But don’t bother us!” She gave a small huff before turning her attention back to the last little bit of food on her plate. As you all finished eating, your father took Elvis into the living room, showing him the new guns he had bought while your sister started tidying up. In the bathroom, you stood in front of the mirror brushing your hair when your sister came in. “Elvis was jus’ being nice,” She said, smiling cruelly. “But then again, he won’t pay you no mind anyways.” She chuckled and walked to the living room, sitting down on the couch. Scoffing you fixed your hair back-up in your pigtails and smiled in the mirror, feeling pretty. Maybe your sister was right, maybe he was just being nice. But that was beside the point. You still liked him. As you walked into the living room, Elvis drank in the sight of you, smiling as he spoke. “You girls ready?” You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips as you walked over to Elvis. "Ready when you are, Elvis." Your sister rolled her eyes, but you ignored her. "Alright, let's go then." Your sister stood up, and grabbed Elvis hand, leading him out the door.

The theater was packed, you recognized a few people you knew and some of your sister's friends who she chatted with before the three of you went to take a seat. Elvis took a seat in the middle, between you and your sister. The lights dimmed, and the movie began. Your sister chatted with Elvis throughout the movie, making jokes and laughing. You watched the movie, enjoying it but also feeling a bit left out. You wanted to talk to Elvis, to get to know him better, but you felt intimidated by your sister's presence. Halfway through the movie, Elvis leaned over to you, his arm brushing against yours. "This is a great movie, isn't it?" He whispered. You smiled, feeling your heart race. "It's amazing." You whispered back. He gave you a small smile before turning his attention back to your sister, who had been jerking on his arm so he could look back at her. During the intermission, Elvis stood up, stretching his legs. "Want anything from the concession stand?" He asked, looking at both of you. Your sister shook her head, but you nodded, biting your lip. "Um, could I get a coke and some popcorn, please?" Elvis smiled, nodding. "Sure, be right back." He winked before making his way out of the theater room.

Walking to the concession stand Elvis could feel how shaky his legs were, how fast his heart was racing, and how disappointed he was that your sister was hogging him. He should’ve just ended stuff with her a long time ago, but she stayed. In a way, he was glad. He wouldn't have been able to see you as much as he did, let alone spend any time with you. Ordering his two cokes and a large popcorn he started to head back to the theater room before hearing a familiar giggle. Your sister. Peeking around the corner he saw your sister and some fella, he had her in a corner, his arm raised above her head as he leaned close to her. Elvis watched as they kissed, a short sweet one before he took her hand and the two snuck out the backdoor. Elvis was mad, in short. She had run off with another man mid-date, shaking his head and taking a deep breath as he walked back into the theater room, finding you sitting alone. “Elvis- uhm she said that she felt sick n’ had one of her friends take her home…I-I told her that she could wait on you n’ you could take us home but she didn’t listen to me!” You explained and Elvis laughed gently, “Don’t worry bout’ it little. I saw her, she done run off.” He said, handing you one of the cokes. “Oh…m’ sorry…” You whispered, seeing genuine hurt in his features. “Ain’t your fault, she's been doin’ that for a good while.” Elvis said softly, looking over at you. “You wanna just head ta’ the car?” Elvis proposed and you nodded. Standing up and walking out of the row of seats Elvis took your hand in his, leading you out.

Truthfully, Elvis was curious. Curious about what he could do with you. The idea of revenge came to mind, get back at your sister for sleeping around. But that would be wrong. It wouldn’t be right, he didn’t want to use you like that. But god. He wanted you. Opening the passenger car door Elvis let you get in before moving around to the side of the car, hesitating before opening the door. He could try. That’s all he could do. “We can just hang out here for awhile, if you’re wantin’ too.” Elvis said, turning to look at you. You looked so pretty, in that white dress n’ those frilly socks…bows in your hair too. “That's fine with me,” You said, crossing your legs in your seat. Elvis swallowed hard, a majority of your thigh exposed. He could see just a sliver of your panties but that was enough for his pants to get uncomfortable. He hated how you made him. All desperate, worked up, needing you so bad but it was just so wrong. “We’ve never been alone together before.” You said, looking over at him, scanning his face- trying to figure out what his expression was. “I guess that’s true, little.” As you both sat in the car, Elvis tried to keep his cool. He was so close to you, so close that he could smell the sweet scent of your perfume. It was intoxicating, and it made him want you even more. He knew that he shouldn't be thinking like this, that he should be focusing on getting you home safely, but he couldn't help it. He was drawn to you, and he wanted you more than anything. You, on the other hand, were feeling a bit nervous. You were so close to Elvis, and alone with him. No sister to stop you from talking to him or batting your eyes at him. “I’ve never been alone with a boy before.” You blurted out, your face flushing a deep shade of red from embarrassment. “Oh, well that’s alright…” Elvis replied, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You look purty.” He finally said, waiting for your reaction. Elvis' words made your heart flutter. "You- You think so?" You said shyly, looking down at your lap. Elvis chuckled, "Aww don't be like that little, you're very beautiful." He said, putting his hand on your thigh. You felt a jolt of electricity as his hand touched you. "You’re…you’re really handsome." You said, a blush spreading across your face. The two of you seemed to stare forever at each other, you hadn’t noticed that the two of you had gotten closer to each other, your noses almost brushing together. “Uhm, Elvis..? Can I- Can I kiss you?” You asked, your heart pounding against your chest. Elvis was taken aback but didn’t hesitate, his hand cupped your cheek as he pushed you closer to him, your lips meeting in a slow, soft kiss. You were shaking, so was Elvis. And neither of you knew why. The bulge in Elvis’ pants became more evident, the fabric of his jeans rubbing him uncomfortably tight, he cursed god as he pulled away from you. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks pink. “How was that..?” Elvis asked, his hand still resting on your thigh, drawing circles on your soft skin. “Nice..” You muttered, biting your lip. “I’ve never done that before.” You confessed, and Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, you’re a natural.” He said, kissing your forehead. The two of you sat in silence, the two of you heard the faint sound of the movie theater in the distance, the music from the film playing. Elvis looked down at you, his eyes soft and gentle. He couldn’t help but feel that this was wrong, but the way you looked at him, the way you kissed him…it was hard to resist. “Do..do you wanna go to the backseat?” He asked, his breath caught in his throat. Hesitating slightly you nodded, and the two of you moved to the backseat.

“ Hi…” You whispered and Elvis laughed gently, “Hi there, little.” You were so innocent, so pure, and he wanted to keep you that way. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe from the world. “You’re different from most girls.” He whispered, his hand finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked, and you nodded, you could feel yourself shaking. “You sure? We ain’t gotta do nothin’ if you don’t wanna.” He prefaced and you took a deep breath. “Elvis please..jus’ kiss me again.” Elvis didn’t hesitate, pulling you closer he kissed your jawline. You let out a small moan, your body responding to his touch, wanting more. Elvis could feel your heart racing, and he knew that you were as affected by him as he was by you. He pulled back, looking into your eyes. “This is so wrong.” He whispered, his hand moving to your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” You smiled, a small and innocent smile. “I want this, Elvis.” You said softly, your hand moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m grown.” Elvis looked at you, his heart aching for you. He wanted to take you home, to keep you safe, but he was also drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He couldn’t resist you, you were too pure, too sweet, and he wanted to savor every moment with you. “Alright, little.” He said, kissing you again, this time more passionately. His hand moved from your hair to your back, pulling you closer, feeling the curve of your body against his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling your heart race as his tongue danced with yours. His hand snaked up to your chest, gently groping your breast with his hand causing you to squeal into the kiss and Elvis pulled away, “Fuck, was that too far?” Elvis cursed, his heart dropping. “No, do- keep doing it.” You begged, taking ahold of his hand and placing it back on your breast. Elvis let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe how far things had gone, but he couldn't deny the desire that was burning between the two of them. He started kissing you again, his hand massaging your breast, kneading it between his fingers, his other hand slowly moving under your dress. You let out a soft moan, your body arching into his touch. Elvis' hand started to explore your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, moving lower to your panties. He could feel your heat through the fabric, and he knew he was getting dangerously close. You bit your lip, your breath hitching as tugged on the edge of your underwear, hooking his fingers underneath and pulling slightly.

Elvis looked up at you, searching for consent– when you nodded he Elvis pulled them down your legs, taking them off and holding them in his hand for a moment before stuffing them in his pocket. You couldn't help but laugh when he did so– “A keepsake.” He joked before leaning over you and hiking up your dress. Elvis' heart raced as he exposed your delicate, untouched skin. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't resist the temptation. Your eyes were closed, your body trembling with anticipation. Elvis' finger traced the outline of your folds, feeling the wetness that coated them. He bit his lip, his breathing heavy as he slowly inserted one finger inside of you. You gasped, your eyes shooting open as you looked at him, a mix of surprise and pleasure evident on your face. “Can hardly fit my finger…” Elvis noted, moving his finger in and out of you, feeling your walls tighten around his digit. You arched your back, your moans growing louder as he continued to pleasure you. He added another finger, the two of them working in perfect harmony. Your breathing grew heavier, your body trembling under his touch. Elvis could feel your impending climax and he sped up his movements, wanting to push you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, your body convulsing as you came. Elvis watched you, a sense of pride and satisfaction washing over him. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you,the wetness coating them a testament to your pleasure.”God…” He said, admiring his fingers before placing them on his tongue. You looked at him, your eyes hazy. "Elvis..." you whispered, your voice soft and quiet. He leaned in to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue as his hand moved to the front of his pants. He was hard, throbbing for you, and he couldn't wait any longer. Elvis unzipped his pants, pulling out his erection. You looked at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. “Spread your legs, little.” He coached, as you parted your shaky legs wider. He positioned himself at your entrance, and with a gentle push, he entered you. You let out a small yelp, the sensation of being filled by him unlike anything you'd ever experienced. A short, sharp pain causing you to slam your eyes shut, “Ah! E-Elvis…it hurts.” You whined, feeling his continue to ease into. Taking your hand he held it close in his hand, “I know, little..squeeze ma’ hand.” He says, groaning as he struggles to fit into you. You’re so tight, unbelievably warm and so, so wet. Elvis moved slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. Slinging your arms around his neck, Elvis gently let go of your hand and gripped onto your hips as you sunk deeper onto him. “So fuckin’ tight.” He groans as he begins to move you up and down onto him, each thrust drawing a soft whimper from you. Elvis' heart thudded against his chest, his eyes locked on you as he watched your reaction to him. He could see the pain, but also the pleasure that you were experiencing, and it was enough to make him want to take you over and over. He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he felt his own pleasure building. You cried out, your body responding to his movements, your walls tightening around him.

"Elvis..." you moaned, your voice catching in your throat. He leaned down, kissing your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Cum for me, little." He commanded, his voice low and gruff. You could feel your orgasm building, the sensation overwhelming you. "Elvis...I...I'm gonna cum..." you gasped, your body trembling. That was all the encouragement he needed. Elvis increased his pace, thrusting into you as hard as he could, his own climax approaching. "Fuck, little..." he groaned, “I’m gonna fill ya’ up. Make you feel all full…You want that?” He said, his eyes locking onto you. Watching you nod frantically, wanting nothing more. Elvis’ thrusts became more frantic as you rested your head against his neck as his fingers dug into your hips. You let out a shaky gasp, feeling the warmth of his release as he filled you. He moaned out, pulling you close to his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Elvis pulled out of you, his spent cock leaving you feeling empty.

Still holding you to his chest, he stroked your hair as you shook in his arms, his cum dribbling out of your swollen cunt. As you caught your breath, you clung to Elvis, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. He kissed the top of your head, his hand moving to your hip as he looked at you with a satisfied smile. "You’re so perfect little." He whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. Whimpering in response Elvis smiles at you, adjusting himself before pulling your dress back down in place. “Will you be mine baby?” He asks, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Mhm…” You smile gently, and he tilts his head curiously before yanking gently on your pigtails. “You gonna be mine forever just…” Elvis starts looking out the window of the car which had humorously fogged a bit.

“don’t you do what your big sister’s done.”

i tried alternating perspectives, give more on what elvis’ is thinking— so i hope it makes sense :3 this was really fun to write tbh, i listened to the song like 7 times while writing 😭 hope y’all enjoy!

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @wildhorseinkansas @elvisiana @spookyeagleflower @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 @elvisalltheway101 @cherrycolaride @sloppyzengarden @faeolwen @slayingjd

if you wanna be added or removed lmk!

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miryum · 2 months

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"Valentine's Day"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

The bullpen was decorated in red and pink hearts, streamers thrown around haphazardly. Multiple Cupids were stuck in the holding cell and Damian had a cup of heart-shaped lollipops on his desk. Cass wore a red sweater, a rare, colourful sighting.

It was Valentine’s Day.

And Y/n’s desk was filled with crap. “What’s all this?” Captain Wayne strode past, pausing at Y/n’s desk. His eyes scanned over pictures, police reports, a comic strip, a takeout menu, and a stub to a baseball match.

“It’s a shrine dedicated to Jason,” Cass said.

“She spent all of last night uncovering these keepsakes.” Damian outed Y/n to the entire precinct.

“Nuh-uh!” Y/n shook her head. “I had them all ready to go.” She smoothed her hands over the memorabilia, looking proud of herself.

“Oh, please.” Damian rolled his eyes. “You spent last night panicking because you couldn’t recall where you kept the bookstore photo.” He referenced a candid of Jason Y/n had taken one day. Jason had been in a bookstore, frowning intently at the summary of a book. His brows were furrowed and he was still recovering from a bruise on his jaw a perp had given him. The photo had been taken at an odd angle and the lighting was dim and washed out, save a stream of ethereal sunlight filtering through the bookstore window. It was Y/n’s favourite. “Until she realised it was on her fridge.”

“Shut up,” Y/n mumbled.

Wayne was astonished at Y/n’s speechlessness, something he had never witnessed before. He was about to comment on it when Jason entered the precinct, gripping his coffee. He halted by Y/n’s desk, sighing heavily. “Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” Y/n grinned. “Do you like it?”

“Not one bit.” He picked up a police report. “What was this? The first case we worked together?”

“Yep,” Y/n said. She pointed to another case file. “And this was the one where we had to pretend to be married for the sake of the case. That one was the best.”

“Hm. And wasn’t this the baseball game we got to go to when a perp decided to hide in the crowd?” Jason remembered, gazing at the baseball tickets.

“And the comic strip you thought I would like,” Y/n smiled softly. She ran a thumb over the Calvin and Hobbs strip.

“You still have this?” Jason laughed in astonishment at the takeout menu.

“Yep. Our first all-nighter meal. But this isn’t all I have planned for this wonderful day,” Y/n exclaimed. “No, no. This is only the first act. I have a whole performance planned for you, honeybear.”

“Honeybear?” Jason’s brows knit together in confusion. That was a new one.

Y/n scrutinised him and called out, “Steph, put ‘honeybear’ at a three.” Steph yelled back in agreement which only made Jason more confused.

“A three? L/n, what are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to find the best pet-name for you based on reaction. You didn’t seem that flustered by ‘honeybear,’ so it’s only a three. I need to find the perfect ten.”

Jason swallowed and nodded once. “Good to know.” He planned on dampening his emotions for the rest of the day.

“The second act of our performance is me serenading you.” Y/n flung open her bottom desk drawer to reveal the small electric keyboard that Jason had bought for her after solving the case with Hercules Muffin Man. She hit a button and the beginning tunes of Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love started playing. “Whyyy-se mehhhn sayyyy…. own-ly foools ru-shin in…. But eye can’t hell-p fall-in’ in love… with you….”

The Cupids in the holding cell laughed and cheered along. Jason buried his face in his hands and slumped down in his chair. “Oh my gosh I hate this.” Damian held up his phone, the flashlight turned on. “Please make this stop,” Jason groaned.

“Lie-ck a river flo-es… new-new,” Y/n vocalised along with the background music. “Sure-lee to the sea… new-new… Dar-ling so it goses…. Some thhh-ings are men-t to bee…”

“This is absolutely terrible.”

Captain Wayne shut his door and closed his shades. Cass wished she had that kind of privilege. Dick hummed along, continuing with his work.

Y/n hummed along, slowly losing herself to the music. Jason peered at her from around his computer, noticing the shift in her attitude. This wasn’t for the sake of attention anymore. This seemed more personal. “Take my hand…” her singing became more melancholic and truthful. “Take my whole world too… For I can’t help… Falling in love with you…” She glanced timidly over to Jason who she found to be staring softly back at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Darling, so it goes…” Jason flushed, blood rushing to his cheeks and neck. “Some things are meant to be…” After a moment of silence, she muttered, “Steph, put ‘darling’ down as an eight.”

“For the third instalment of our little performance,” Y/n said around lunchtime. “I have prepared a lavish meal.” Out of the community fridge, she pulled out a pink cake with a slice missing. “Wait, who the hell ate Jason’s cake?!”

“I am so sorry,” Tim called from the bullpen. “But it was two A.M. and I was incredibly hungry.”

“Fine.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “Jason, here is your partially eaten cake.” She plopped the mass of sugar in front of the man. “I hope you like it- even the part in Tim’s stomach.”

“You bought me a cake?” Jason asked in disbelief.

“Technically, no… I made it. You’re welcome.”

“You made this?! Y/n, how long is this gonna go on? I mean- oh my gosh, this cake is good. How the fuck are you a good baker?” Jason stuffed some more into his mouth before continuing. “I mean, seriously, you can’t spend the entire day coddling me.”

“Why yes, I can, dear Jason,” Y/n said. “You know why? Because today is the marvellous day when Emperor Cladius executed a dude named Valentine ‘cause he was fine with soldiers marrying.”

Tim frowned at her. “How do you know all that?”

“The internet.”

“Ah.”

“Just tell me our secret ingredient,” Jason said. “And I will marry you.”

“Be careful what you promise, baby.” Y/n winked and Jason blinked and swallowed harshly. “Stephanie, ‘baby’ is a six.”

“Got it!”

“I’m not touching that.” Jason grimaced at the piece of evidence lying in front of him.

“I’m not touching that: Title of your sex tape,” Y/n muttered, sitting opposite him, typing away at her computer. “I’ve touched grosser shit than that,” she nodded towards the chewed-up wad of gum.

“I’ve touched grosser shit than that: Title of your sex tape,” Jason retorted.

Y/n gaped at him. “Oh my gosh, I love you.” Jason’s lips parted and his stomach dropped.

She’d said it before. She had said the words “I love you” to everyone in the precinct at least once. They were her family- her life. Of course she loved them. And yet, Jason desperately wished for them to be true. To be more than another common thing she said out of excitement. He rubbed the pad of his finger along another, wishing that instead of touching himself, he was touching her. Y/n watched him intently, an unconscious smile gracing her face. “I’ll wait,” she whispered. “I’ll wait…”

“L/n!” Dick called from the other side of the bullpen. Y/n bounded up from her chair to see what her sergeant wanted; Jason watched her go.

“I swear, if you hurt her,” Damian growled. “No one will ever find your body.”

“You work with a group of detectives,” Cass sighed a laugh. “And given that Brown and I just heard your murder threat, I’m pretty sure we would track you down.”

“I would go off the grid.” Damian glared at Jason. “I would change my name and appearance. I already have a bag waiting for me at home.”

“What is your life?” Steph exclaimed. “You’re a law student. Why do you have a Quick Run Bag?”

Damian shrugged. “Just in case.”

“Sometimes I worry about you,” Steph said. “And then I realise I work with an incompetent lovesick fool and I realise you’re not that bad.”

“Are you talking about Todd or L/n?” Cass raised a brow and Steph snickered along.

“What d’ya need, Sarge?” Y/n skipped over and leaned on Dick’s desk.

“These cases have to go down to filing,” he handed her some stacks of paper. “And I need you to tell Davidson he’s approved for his week off. And please,” he looked up at her with tired eyes. “Stop tormenting Todd. Usually, I’d love to see it, but we’re a bit swamped today.”

“Ah, Sarge,” Y/n pouted. “How dare you get in the way of love? Don’t you love Kori? And your kids? I thought you of all people would understand!”

“Just… don’t make him quit.”

“No promises!”

“The climax in my performance here today,” Y/n swooped over to Jason who was just trying to do his work in peace. “Is the one I’m most excited for. Dami, go!” Damian obediently hit a button on his phone and through the same speakers Y/n had once used to welcome Captain Wayne, she was now playing Ma Belle Evangeline from the Disney movie Princess and the Frog. “You once said you loved this movie as a kid, so I thought it was fitting,” Y/n shrugged. She knelt down on one knee and Jason groaned loudly. “My dearest Jason,” Y/n began, a shit-eating grin on her face. “Here, with this ring-pop I present to you, do I ask for you to make me the happiest woman alive and officially marry me. What’s your answer, dude?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair and replied, “I’m assuming ‘no’ isn’t an answer?”

“Lovely Jason,” Y/n seemed appalled. “You can always say no! But if you’re asking if I will stop asking you until you say yes, then correct, the answer is no.”

“Fine.” The man rolled his eyes to the applause of his coworkers. Stephanie was filming everything. “I’ll marry you. But only for the candy!” He accepted the ring-pop and Y/n leapt up and hugged him tightly.

“Mr. L/n,” she said happily. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“The final instalment of my grand declaration of love,” Y/n declared at the end of the day, standing over Jason who had yet to pack up. “Is a parting gift.” She leaned down and pressed a loud, obnoxious kiss to Jason’s cheek. Jason tried to concentrate on his work, but he knew that it would be futile with the replay of the simple, yet flamboyant kiss running rampant in his mind.

“Goodbye, my love,” Y/n hummed in his ear.

“That-” Jason coughed, attempting to disguise his red cheeks and bright eyes. “That may be the ten.”

Y/n whooped loudly and pumped her fist in the air. Yes! “And we have a winner, folks!”

“I am so happy for you,” Cass said monotonously as she walked by.

Y/n gathered her things and threw an over-exaggerated wink towards Jason. “Until next time, my love,” she cried.

Jason sighed and muttered, “until next time.” He rolled the plastic ring-pop base in between his fingers.

#title of your sex tape #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #detectives au #brooklyn 99 #b99 #b99/dcu #slow burn

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sissylittlefeather · 8 months

Text

Viva Las Vegas

A mafia!Elvis AU Story

A/N: This was a request that threw me for a loop. I didn't know anything about the mafia. But after watching Casino and talking to my husband, I think I did this one okay and I had an absolute blast writing it! Hopefully it's exactly what it's supposed to be and you all enjoy it!

Warnings: SO MUCH SMUT AND VIOLENCE 18+ NO MINORS, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, swallowing, ejaculation, creampie, ALSO GUN VIOLENCE

Word count: ~6.2k (it takes a lot of storytelling)

In 1973 after the Aloha Special, Elvis decided he had had enough of the colonel and his life in Vegas. He didn't want to leave Vegas per se, but he wanted to try something different.

Thats when he bought a casino and entered the world you'd been trying to get out of for a decade: the world of corrupt casino bosses and the mafia back east.

You hate your father. He owns one of the casinos in Vegas, which means he's in neck deep with the mafia. All of the casinos are tied up with the mob somewhere. Some are from New York, some in Chicago, and a few in other cities around the Midwest.

The casino Elvis buys is New York mafia and it doesn't take him long to get wrapped in their web. Despite his rock star status, he loves it and is eager to do odd jobs for the bosses here and there and earn their trust. Before too long, he's one of their most trusted lieutenants. And by 75, he's his own kind of boss in Las Vegas. The mafia game is new in Vegas, but Elvis is on the forefront, creating his own family of Memphis guys to help him enforce the dealings of his casino.

Your father owns a Chicago mafia casino. And although there's not really beef between the two in their individual cities, the battle over who reigns supreme in Vegas rages. Elvis dives headfirst into this feud and is quick to figure out who the enemy is: your father.

This is not a problem in the beginning. You've sworn up and down that you'll marry a nice man and get out of this bullshit. You're tired of people you know ending up buried in the desert. You'll never get involved with a mafia boss. It's just not in the cards for you.

And then 1975 rolls around and you attend an event put on by the gaming commission to thank the casino owners for their contribution to the city of Las Vegas. You wonder if they have any idea how dangerous it is to have all these men in one room together. Still, you're not there with any of them. You're there on the arm of a senator. He's sweet and naive, and a little bit dumb, but at least he doesn't kill people in his spare time. Your father is disappointed, but the work you're doing with the senator might pay off, so he doesn't try to stop you.

That's when you meet Elvis. You catch his eye across the room and hold his gaze for a few seconds. You know who he is, but you're not eager to know him any better than you already do, so you look away. Still, you feel eyes on you and you look back in his direction to find that he's still staring at you. You look away again to try to convey your disinterest, but when you look back a third time, he's left his date and is walking towards you.

"Oh fuck." You whisper under your breath and roll your eyes. You walk away from the senator toward the bar in an effort to dodge Elvis. But somehow he catches up to you.

"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but you already have one." When you turn to face him, he's taller than you expect.

"Also they're free."

"True. Can I offer you something in gold and diamonds instead?" He smirks and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes again.

"I only wear white gold."

"Noted. What's your name."

"I'm y/n. Y/f/n y/l/n."

"Y/l/n? Any relation to Marco y/l/n?"

"He's my father."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so I suggest you move along, soldier. I know who you work for."

"Now hold on, I'm not a soldier. I own my own outfit these days."

"Good for you. I'm still not interested." You go to walk away from him and he grabs your arm and pulls you close to him.

"Oh, I think you are, doll. You wouldn't be so keen on runnin' away if you weren't." Your proximity to him allows you to notice the scent of him. He's all cologne, cigarillos, and peppermint. It's an intoxicating blend and there's something about the way his eyes sparkle that draws you in.

You were a fan of him when you were younger and he was still starring in movies. He's 40 now and he's grown into his maturity in a way no one expected. He carries more weight than he has before, but somehow that makes him more attractive. Like he's a whole man now and he knows what a woman wants.

"Say I was interested. It's not like you'd be allowed anywhere near me. If you don't want to end up in a hole in the desert, I suggest you go back to your date."

"Your father doesn't scare me, honey. All I heard was that you're interested." In a move bold enough to shock you, he leans in and kisses your cheek.

"I can't believe you just did that."

"You're a beautiful girl. Might be worth a hole in the desert." No one has ever pursued you with such fervor. You hate to admit it, but it's turning you on quite a bit.

"Okay, I'm interested. What's your plan now?" He smiles and wraps his hand around your waist.

"Come with me, sugar."

He leads you through the party back to the door that goes into the kitchen.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

He takes you into the pantry where they store the dry goods. It's bigger than a closet, so there's space for both of you. As soon as the door closes, he kisses you, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your lower back, pulling your body in close to his. You kiss him back and melt into his embrace. You know you should stop him, but you don't. He pulls back and looks into your eyes.

"Just how interested are you?" His hand moves to your breast, where he squeezes gently and then slides down to your core, easily finding your clit through your dress.

"I'm interested, daddy. But you better make it worthwhile."

"Mmmm sugar, don't you worry about that. Daddy'll take good care of ya." He gets on his knees and pushes your dress up to your hips. Sliding your panties down your legs, he moves back up to your center, pressing his mouth to you. You gasp a little at the sensation. He slides two fingers inside you to pump in and out while he licks your clit. He makes circles over and around it with his tongue and you moan and put your fingers in his hair. He continues to lap at you as he fucks you with his hand. You feel your orgasm coming to slam into you and your walls tighten around his fingers.

"Let go, baby. Cum for daddy." As soon as he says it, your climax hits and the pleasure washes over you like waves crashing on a beach. He licks you through your orgasm and then backs away slowly. He stands back up and turns you to face away from him. Whispering in your ear, he unbuckles his belt and drops his pants just enough for his cock to bounce free.

"You want daddy to fuck you, sugar?

"Mmmhmmm yes please daddy." You whimper and moan as he lines himself up with your entrance from behind. Then, he holds your hips as he slides into you and picks up a steady rhythm of pounding you. He's balls deep inside you when someone opens the door. He slams it shut with his hand and hollers, "Occupied!"

You giggle a little and he laughs too. Through the whole episode, though, he doesn't stop fucking you. He holds your hips and slams into you over and over again until it feels like you just can't stand it anymore. You cum hard on his dick and he pulls out just in time and pumps his cock a few times to shoot his seed all over your ass.

"Fuck yes, sugar, fuck!"

When he's finished, he finds a napkin to clean you up and then pulls your panties back to where they belong. He slaps your ass before he pulls your dress back down. "Mmm. I want you to belong to me."

"I'm not sure that's possible. You know who my father is."

"I don't give a damn who your father is."

"Well, I don't want you dead. This was fun, but that's all it was."

"We'll see, sugar." He leans in and kisses you deeply one last time. Then, you both make your way out of the closet and back to your respective dates at the party.

But for the rest of the night, you catch him looking at you from across the room.

You've never hated your father more.

******

Three days later a box arrives at your suite. Your parents have the penthouse, but your living area is nothing to sneeze at. You've got three full bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms, and a large space for entertaining complete with a bar. You're no stranger to luxury.

So when you open the box and even you are shocked, you know this is an impressive gift. You lift out a large, ornate jewelry box and open it carefully. The whole thing is packed to the brim with white gold and diamonds. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings you suspect to the tune of roughly a million dollars. There's a card inside as well, so you open the envelope and pull it out gently. A necklace falls into your lap when you go to read it. The card is blank except for a single line:

"This one makes you mine. -EP"

You hold it up to examine it. It's smaller than some of the others, but the whole thing is coated in little diamonds. The letters "TLC" surround a lightning bolt and hang on a white gold chain. You look back down at the box of jewelry on the table in front of you. If you accept this gift, you're opening the door to a dangerous situation for both of you. Is he worth it? There's a part of you screaming yes, but you also swore to never get involved with a mob boss. And now you're considering your father's biggest rival? No. You decide to call him and thank him, but graciously tell him no.

"Hello?" Of course he doesn't answer the phone. It's obviously one of his guys.

"I need to speak to Elvis please."

"I'm sure you do. You and every other broad in this town."

"Tell him it's Sugar and I just want to thank him for the gift." You can tell he sets down the receiver and you hear mumbling in the background. After a few more seconds, the phone is picked up again.

"Hi, Sugar. Sounds like you got my present?" His voice is warm and sensual and you're almost hypnotized by it. You shake your head a little to bring yourself back down to earth.

"I did. And it's very sweet, thank you. But-"

"No."

"No?"

"You're not sending it back. It's yours."

"Elvis, I can't keep this."

"You will. And you'll have dinner with me tonight."

"Elvis, no I-"

"I'll pick you up at 8."

"You can't come here."

"So meet me on the corner outside. Wear something pretty and don't forget your necklace. I'll see you at 8." There's a click and the line goes dead. You look at the receiver and slam it down on the dialer. He's impossible.

******

At 7:30, you sit on your bed staring at the dress you picked out. It's tight and short and covered with black rhinestones. Are you actually going to do this? You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to see him again, but there's so much at risk. Your hair and makeup are done and all you need to do is get dressed and put on your jewelry. You look at the clock again and bite the inside of your cheek.

"Fuck it."

You stand up and slide the dress on. It fits you like a glove and won't do much to keep him from liking you. Neither will the black strappy heels you pull on. You go to the jewelry box and put on a pair of large diamond earrings, a bracelet, and several rings. You stand there holding the TLC necklace and stare at yourself in the mirror. Going to dinner with him is one thing. Wearing the necklace that claims you as his own is totally different. But you're not sure what he might do if you show up without it. At 7:53, you throw the necklace around your neck, grab your purse, and head for the door. You stand on the corner for less than thirty seconds before a long black limousine pulls up and the window rolls down.

"You waitin' for someone?" Elvis gives you a mischievous smile.

"Maybe."

"Hi Sugar. Come on." A guy pops out of the car and opens the door for you to slide in next to Elvis. As you settle on the seat, Elvis reaches across and fondles the necklace where it sits on your chest.

"It looks good on ya." You feel your cheeks get warm.

"I wasn't sure I wanted to wear it."

"And yet, here you are. You're in love with me, Sugar."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself."

"Because I'm in love with you."

"You literally met me once."

"That's all it takes when your souls are aligned like ours are." He leans forward and captures your lips in a deep kiss. You begin to make out heavily. As your tongues move against each other, the passion overwhelms you and you crawl on top of him to straddle him. You continue to kiss and his hands run over your body hungrily. Eventually, he grabs your ass with both hands and pulls you in against him, his hardness pressing into you between your legs.

"How far is the restaurant?" You whisper breathily.

"Far enough." He lets you unbuckle his belt and get his pants open enough to pull his cock out. You hike your skirt up to reveal that you aren't wearing panties.

"Sugar, you're gonna kill me." He holds your hips, lining you up with him, and then drops you down on his dick. You roll your hips against him and fuck him deeply. He grunts and grabs your neck to pull you into a kiss. You both know that you don't have much time, so you move on him quickly. He lifts his hips a little and his cock rubs perfectly against your g-spot. Without warning, you cum hard on him and the intense pleasure runs through you like fire.

"Mmm." He grunts and you know he's getting close too, so you back up off of him and drop to your knees on the floor of the limo. You put your hands on his thighs and pull his cock deep into your throat. "Dear god, woman."

You bounce up and down on him for a few more seconds before his hips buck and he fills your throat with his warm release. You swallow it all down and then run your tongue around his uncut tip. When you pull back off of him and sit on his lap, he grabs your chin and kisses your lips gently.

"Sugar, you're mine and you know it."

"I am." He kisses you again.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

The car stops and you both make yourselves presentable before the door opens. You head into the restaurant together and never look back.

******

You spend the next few weeks together pretty much 24/7. Periodically, he disappears to take care of business, but for the most part you're either talking, sleeping, or fucking. You really hope that your parents don't notice that you haven't been home except to grab a suitcase since you left for dinner that night. This is the happiest you've ever been in your life and at the beginning of the fourth week Elvis walks into his suite after some business and asks you to come sit with him on the couch. You do as he asks, but you're starting to get a little worried because he seems really serious.

"What is it, baby?" You settle in close to him but he moves away from you to look into your face.

"Sugar, I've never felt like this about a woman. I truly believe our souls were meant to be together. I want you to marry me." He pulls a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal an enormous emerald-cut three-stone diamond ring of no less than 14 carats.

"Wow. Elvis, I- wow."

"What do ya say, Sugar?"

"Elvis, I want nothing more than to marry you. But I don't think I can. The only reason we've made it this long is because my father doesn't know."

He slams the box down on the coffee table and stands up, pacing.

"Damn it, Sugar, I told you I don't give a fuck about your father! Let him find out!" You stand up too and raise your voice to match his.

"Do you think I want him to kill you?!"

"You don't believe I can defend myself?! Is that what you think of me?!" He kicks over an end table, sending the things on it flying. "I'm a man, y/n! This is what I do!" He puts his foot on the coffee table and pulls the gun from his boot, dropping it on the table with a thud. He rips his jacket off and pulls the two guns out of his shoulder holster, tossing them on the table too. He pulls the guns from his waistband holsters and adds them to the pile.

You watch as he does all of this. You've seen your father do almost the same exact thing at the end of a long day. You feel the tears well up in your eyes and you want to scream. How did you end up here, so in love with a man who is in this world? If you marry him, you'll never escape. You'll get married in the mafia, raise your kids in the mafia, and watch your husband die in the mafia. It's all too much and the tears start pouring down your cheeks.

He realizes you're crying and puts his hands on his hips, trying to avoid softening, but he can't.

"Now, Sugar, what's all that about?"

"N-nothing." You sob and he walks over to you and wraps you in his arms. He strokes your hair and you cry on him.

"Come on, out with it." You burrow your face into his chest and yell.

"I don't want you to die!" He looks up at the ceiling and sighs deeply.

"Sugar, I don't have any plans on dyin' any time soon." You look up into his face and he uses his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"You don't know that."

"No. I guess I don't. But I know this. I love you right now and I want to marry you right now. And if I die, then I die, but I'm alive now and I want you to be my wife while I am." He leans down to kiss you softly on the cheek. You push away from him and he sighs again deeply. "Sugar, please."

You turn and look at him. Then, you snatch the ring box off of the table. He's afraid you're going to throw it at him, but you don't. Instead, you open it and take the ring out. You jam it onto your ring finger and purse your lips.

"Okay. Yes."

"Yes?" A smile spreads across his face.

"Yes." You walk over to him and jump on him and he catches you, spinning you around. He kisses you deeply and then carries you into the bedroom. You both laugh as he takes your clothes off and you fall into each other again.

******

What you don't know is that your father has noticed your absence. He sent out some of his favorite soldiers to locate you and they did. They call him to let him know where you are.

"She's with Elvis?"

"Yeah, boss. Looks like she's been there a while."

"I guess we have some business to take care of. Bring her back here."

"Understood."

Your father hangs up the phone after hearing about your location. Then he turns and throws the phone at the wall.

******

You're lying naked in Elvis's arms when there's a loud knock on the front door. He immediately gets up and dresses quickly. One of the things he's learned is how to assess a threat and this feels like something bad.

"Stay here, Sugar." He goes in the living room and puts all his guns back where they belong on his person. There's another loud knock.

"We know she's in there! Open the fucking door!" He looks at you standing in the doorway in one of his shirts. He walks over to you and hands you one of his pistols. Then, he kisses your forehead and cups your cheek in his hand.

"Stay in here. This might get ugly."

"Those men are my cousins. Maybe I should just go with them."

"Is that what you want? They won't let you come back to me." Your eyes flick between his while you think. The decision you make right now will define your future. Do you stay with the man you love? Or do you go with your family and forfeit your chance at happiness with him but make sure he stays alive? You know which one he would want you to choose. The cold metal of your engagement ring becomes heavy on your finger. You can't live without him.

"Donny got in a fight when he was younger and doesn't see very well out of his left eye. Use that if you can. I love you." You kiss him deeply on the lips and then take the pistol in the room and shut the door. You find some pants and put on your shoes in case you have to make a run for it. Then you sit on the bed with the pistol in your hand and listen.

Elvis opens the door carefully. He's got a loaded gun in his hand behind his back. The two men saunter into the room.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"You know who. Marco sent us to get her."

"You can give her to us the easy way or we can take her. It's up to you."

The sound of your cousins' voices is not hard to hear. Donny is the big booming one. The higher-pitched whiny one is Nick. They're both a little older than you, but you try very hard not to remember them as kids.

"You're not taking her." Elvis looks toward the door. They must've already dispensed of the guards he keeps out there day and night.

"Hard way it is, then." You hear the sounds of a scuffle as Donny lunges toward Elvis. You open the door silently and peek into the room. Elvis fires a shot at Donny, but he's a moving target, so he misses. Donny wrestles the gun away from him and gets him on his knees with his hands behind his back. Nicky stands in front of him with a gun pointed in his face.

"Tell us where she is and we'll take her and go. We're not lookin' to start a war over this bitch. Her daddy just wants her back."

"Fuck you and her daddy."

As the conversation happens, you slip off your shoes and walk silently into the room with the pistol in your hand. It takes Donny a minute to register that you're there, so his warning comes too late.

"Look out Nick!"

When he turns to face you, you have the pistol cocked and pointed at his head.

"Oh, come on now, y/n. You're not gonna shoot me."

"You know I know how to." It's true. Your father had a gun in your hand as soon as you were old enough to hold it. Your marksmanship is solid.

"Just come home with us. You don't need this fucker."

"Don't talk about him like that." You shake your head and then Donny chimes in from across the room.

"Just grab her, Nick. We don't have time for this." Nick nods and makes like he's going to grab you. Without thinking, you pull the trigger. Again, your marksmanship is spot on.

Once you shoot Nick, Donny is so caught off guard that Elvis is able to slip away from him. He grabs his loaded gun from the floor where he dropped it earlier, turns, and shoots Donny in the head.

Your gun falls to the floor and you drop to your knees shaking. You've never shot a person before, much less a family member. Elvis rushes to you and catches you just before you pass out.

******

When you come to, you're in a car. You turn and see Elvis in the drivers seat.

"You alright, Sugar?"

"Yeah. Did I really shoot Nick?"

"You did."

"Fuck." You're overcome with nausea and you start to shake again. Elvis notices how pale you are and pulls the car over on the side of the deserted highway you're on. You stumble out of the car and vomit in the dirt. It doesn't take long for him to be by your side, holding your hair back and humming a soothing melody. When he can tell that you're finished, he scoops you up like a baby and carries you to the backseat of the car. He slides in next to you and holds you close to his chest. You're too shocked to even cry. That'll come later.

"Nicky was a real asshole. He shot my first boyfriend- buried him in the desert- because he took my virginity. Pretty sure my father just wanted him beat up, but Nicky was always taking things too far. He would've killed you too."

"I believe you, Sugar. You did what you had to do."

"I did. And I'm not sorry. I probably should be, but I'm not." He lifts your chin and looks into your eyes.

"Welcome to the mafia, Sugar." You nod slowly and lean back into his chest. You sit like this for another half hour, with him still stroking your hair and humming. Eventually, you sit up.

"Okay. I think I'm okay. Where are we going?"

"One of my guys owns a motel out here. It's safe. We'll stay there until I can figure out the next step. I have an idea, but I'll need to do some business to work it out."

"I trust you." He kisses your forehead and then you both get out and get back in the front of the car. Once you're settled, he grabs your hand and holds it in his lap. The future is cloudy for both of you, but at least you're together.

******

You're at the motel for three weeks in the desert. Overall, you're doing okay except for the nightmares. But Elvis is always there to take care of you, whether you're screaming, crying, or throwing punches. It doesn't take long for you to sink back into your routine of talking, sleeping, and fucking.

Elvis makes business calls and even goes to a couple of meetings in town. Every time he leaves, you're a basket case until he returns. You sit in the bed with a loaded pistol in your lap just waiting. But every time he comes back unscathed. It helps that his men are all over the motel and they accompany him any time he goes into Vegas. The only thing you argue about is who needs the most protection when you're apart. He wants you to have the bulk of the security and you argue that he's in much more danger in the city. He always wins, though, and you end up with a better protection detail than the president.

At the end of the three weeks, Elvis comes to you with an assignment.

"I need you to get dressed. We're going into Vegas."

"For what?! How should I dress?"

"Well, I've got a little business deal to solidify and then we're celebrating. So wear something nice. Maybe something white."

"White?"

"Yeah. Just in case." You have no idea what he could possibly be talking about, but you follow instructions and pick out the only white dress in your bag. It's a long-sleeved mini dress with a deep v-neck that shows off your cleavage nicely. You put it on with your white patent leather boots. When he sees you, he looks you up and down and whistles.

"Will this work?"

"Sugar, it's already working." He grabs you and pulls you to him, kissing your neck down to your breasts.

"Mmm you want to take it off of me?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. But we have somewhere to be soon. Later I'll rip it off with my teeth." He nibbles your breast a little and growls. Then he turns and grabs a briefcase, puts his jacket on over his guns, and walks you to the door.

You settle in the back of the limousine with him and giggle a little. He looks at you with an incredulous look.

"Sugar, what's got you tickled?"

"I was thinking about the first time we were in the limo together."

"And you didn't have any panties on?" He turns to look at you, his eyes darkened with lust.

"I'm not wearing any tonight either."

"Mmmm." He shakes his head and grunts. Then he runs his hand up your thigh to your center to verify what you've said. It's true. "Sugar, you sure know what daddy likes."

He gets on his knees in front of you on the floor of the limo and yanks you to the edge of the seat. He spreads your legs and pushes your dress up over your hips. Dragging his tongue up your thigh, he presses one finger into you.

"Mmmm yes daddy." You moan as he works his hand on you.

"You want daddy to eat this pussy?"

"Yes please." You answer breathlessly and put your fingers in his hair. He smiles at how eager you are and moves his mouth to your center. His tongue begins its familiar pattern over and around your clit. He's learned your body and knows exactly what you like. He knows how you squirm when he runs his tongue directly over you hard and how you moan when he pushes his tongue into your slit. He knows when to flatten his tongue and move his head side to side and when to tighten his tongue to a point and lick up either side. He does all of those things and more and it's only a little while before you cum hard in his mouth and he licks you through it, the electricity of your orgasm running through you to your fingertips and back again. He kisses your clit one last time, pulls your skirt down, and then sits up next to you on the seat, wiping his mouth with his hand. You're just about to crawl on top of him when the car pulls to a stop. He leans over and kisses you.

"I can wait, Sugar." He pats your knee and the door opens for you to get out. Your breath catches.

You're at your father's casino.

"Elvis! What are we doing here?! He will kill you!"

"No, he won't. I've arranged a business meeting through both of our lawyers. And his board of directors."

"How did you work that out?"

"It's a long story. Come on." In a gesture bold enough to make your heart jump, he pats your bottom to encourage you to walk. When you get inside, you head to a meeting room. Your father is seated at the head of the table with several men around him. They're in boring, relatively cheap suits, though, so you suspect they're truly businessmen and not mobsters. You notice your father's mouth pop open a little when he sees you and Elvis walk into the room, but he quickly rearranges his face. His jaw flexes, but that's the only indicator of his feelings. Elvis shakes his hand and smiles warmly and then takes the seat at the other end of the table. The meeting begins with the discussion of business. As it turns out, Elvis has opened a shell corporation and then used it to negotiate a purchase of your father's casino. Now you see why he's so angry. Without knowing it, your father has allowed his biggest rival to buy his prized casino. He made a pretty good chunk of change in the meantime, but now Elvis and his connections to the New York mob will run Vegas.

After the business is settled, Elvis dismisses the business men so that it's just you, him, and your father in the room.

Your father glares at him.

"I should kill you for this disrespect."

"I wouldn't try it. I have more men in this town now than anyone else. You wouldn't make it to the sidewalk." Your father swallows deeply. He knows he's beaten, so he turns to you.

"I'm going home to Chicago. You're coming with me. Your mother misses you." There's a small pang in your heart at the thought of your mother. Elvis puts his arm around your waist and pulls you to him protectively. His grip steadies you and you feel more confident than you have since you walked into the casino.

"No, I'm not. I'm sorry about mother, but I'm not going back to Chicago." Your father's anger flares up again and he reaches for one of his guns. But Elvis beats him to the punch.

"Here's the deal, Mr. Y/l/n. I bought your casino. And I'm gonna marry your daughter. You can accept that and leave, or I can shoot you right here, right now. It's up to you." Your father looks between the two of you and then down at the gun Elvis has pointed at him. He spits at you and throws his gun on the table. Then, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room. Elvis turns to you and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

"I can't believe that just happened." You shake your head incredulously.

"It did, Sugar. Now. I already asked the question and you already said yes. All that's left to decide is when and I say tonight is as good a night as any."

"That's why I'm wearing white!"

"What do you say, Sugar?" You nod your head excitedly and throw your arms around his neck.

You manage to make it in and out of a chapel without anyone noticing who you are. And you've got a slew of bodyguards with you anyway.

You barely make it the short ride to the casino before you've got your hands in his pants. Instead, you make it to the elevator and he hits the stop button while you yank his pants down and drop to your knees in front of him. You hold the base of his cock with one hand and lick a slow circle around the tip. Then you run your tongue along the bottom of the shaft and tease him a little.

"Goddamn, Sugar." He weaves his fingers into your hair as you pull him deep into your throat. He holds your head still and begins to thrust into your mouth, making your eyes water. Suddenly, he stops and tries to pull away from you. "Mmmm. Daddy wants to fuck you, Sugar, and if you don't stop I won't be able to."

You back off of him and stand up. He pushes your back against the wall and lines his cock up with your entrance. Then, he bends his knees a little and pushes into you like he's done so many times before. But this time, he's your husband.

"Hey." You grab his face and look into his eyes. "Don't pull out this time."

"You sure, Sugar?"

"We're married, aren't we?" He kisses your mouth, your cheek, your neck, and then your mouth again. You didn't know he would be so excited, but he is. The prospect of another child is something that's excited him since he met you. He begins to pump in and out of you deeply.

"God, I love you, Sugar."

He pounds into you rhythmically for a few more minutes before you feel him shudder into you.

"Oh fuckkk yes." He yells as he fills you with his warmth for the first time, but certainly not the last. He stays inside you for a while, kissing your neck. Then, he slowly pulls out and starts the elevator again as you adjust your skirt and he puts himself away. When the doors slide open, the men posted there nod to him. One of them says, "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Presley." And you giggle. You're Mrs. Presley.

He scoops you into his arms and carries you across the threshold. You've finally accepted that the mafia will be your life forever. But as long as it's a life with him, you couldn't care less.

******

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

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mahg-stuff · 1 year

Text

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍

Prompt: "Only God knows why"

Summary: Big Daddy just wants to try exploring new erotic themes with his sweet dolly but it involves a firearm, though she is wary she puts her faith in Elvis and God.

Pairing: bd!elvis x afab!reader

Word count: 13k

Warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, excessive smut, 18+!, gun play, sorta naive reader, manipulative tactics!?, mentions of religion, age gap (isn’t directly stated), certain themes can be disturbing/dark, lots of manhandling, quick mention of Elvis’ health, implied butt stuff f!receiving (only briefly brought to the attention), first time giving oral m!receiving, use of the word daddy, pet names, Elvis at one point calls himself papa bear, might’ve missed a few...

AN: ITS HERE MY LOVELY'S! I know i made y’all wait so so long for this & I just wanna say sorry. Life just decided to get in the way again and took a toll on me but I'm finally back & ready to give you guys this story you so deserve!

Like I mentioned in my previous post this is my literal first attempt of writing something like this and about Elvis, as well as writing about religion. Hope you all enjoy it! I’m no expert so please go easy on me. hehehe (Though I will admit I had this story idea marinating for a quite awhile, let's just say Big Daddy is a handful.)

After wrapping up your usual prayer of gratitude to God for another day of life, something you had started doing since getting with Elvis. You noticed the time on the clock and realized that night was drawing near. Feeling a sense of peace and delight, you closed your eyes, ready to embrace the night and all the possibilities it may bring. You felt grateful for the moment and decided to cherish it. As you opened your eyes, you promised yourself to make the most of the night and enjoy every minute of it.

Getting up from your vanity's desk, striding to the bathroom with some pep in each step, and starting to wind down for the night by getting ready for a relaxing bath. You entered the bath and soaked in the warm water, letting your mind drift as you reflected on the events of the day. You remembered what Elvis mentioned earlier today, that he'd be getting his hands on a new toy for the two of you. You weren't sure what this toy could be at all, but you were excited to find out. You trusted him to surprise you with something delightful, even if it meant not fully understanding it at first. However, as you soaked in the warm water, trying to relax, you just couldn't help but wonder if this new toy would be something intimate and sensual, considering Elvis' comment about it being an "adult" toy. Regardless of your slight inexperience in this area, you felt safe knowing that Elvis would be there with you.

Finally feeling freshened up, you hop out of the bath, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel before heading to the closet. Looking through it, you spotted your new pink babydoll nightie. You couldn't help but beam at yourself, your thoughts going straight to him. Taking it off the hook, you slipped it right on after putting on some simple underwear. You skipped towards the mirror, admiring how the pink satin fabric draped over your curves and how the lace details accentuated your feminine features. You couldn't wait for him to see you in it, knowing he'd be pleased. He always told you how pretty you were in pink and how it brought out the rosy glow in your cheeks. You turned your back to the mirror, looking back at yourself over your shoulder with a playful grin, then blowing a kiss to yourself, feeling like a ditz just at the mere thought of his approval. Catching the time on the clock through the mirror, you gasped, realizing Elvis would probably be on his way right now. You rushed back to the bathroom and applied some light makeup and a little bit of eyeliner, just the way Elvis liked it. Before letting your hair down and brushing it out, your natural loose curls flowing against the midsection of your back. Finishing up and giving yourself one last glance in the bathroom mirror, your hand naturally reaches to touch the cross on your necklace, a comforting habit you've developed over the past months of being with him.

You take a deep breath, and as you are about to walk out of the bathroom, you can hear the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing. You feel a flutter of excitement in your chest as you know it's him. You were probably so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear his arrival. Composing yourself, you slowly walk out into the bedroom, and there he is, standing with his side to you.

He turns to you, revealing a better view of his tall and broad frame, slightly pudgy but taut at the same time. As you approach him, you observe just how tall he is, towering over you. His big shoulders stretch out the fabric of his shirt, and his pudgy belly that protrudes just barely over his belt. You can't help but feel small in his presence. Shyly meeting his gaze, you notice a twinkle in his eyes through his glasses, and you can't help but wonder why he held both of his hands behind him. His deep, honey-colored voice echoed off the walls.

You felt a sense of security wash over you as you listened to him speak. "There's ma sweet baby 𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍."

You practically pounced on him, embracing him in your arms, they hardly reached to hold him all. You nuzzled your face against his hairy chest that was revealed by his open button up, breathing in his distinctive aroma of musk with hints of cigar and his cologne, feeling safe in his embrace. As he held you tightly, you felt like a kitten being cradled in his large and heavy arms. As you pulled away, you gazed into his eyes but everted them due to his intense stare.

"I missed you." you mumbled as you coyly ran your little digits through his chest hair.

He then held your lower back tightly with one of his broad hands and kissed your forehead.

"I missed ya too, ma sweet angel," he replied in his thick, southern drawl.

As he spoke, you could feel the vibrations of his bass voice reverberating through your body, making you shiver. You knew that no matter what happened, his embrace would always be your safe haven. He looked at you with such intensity that it was practically begging you to look away. You could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he were trying to communicate something without saying a word. It was both exhilarating and unnerving, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Eventually, you broke the silence.

"What ya thinking about, bub?" you voiced as you poked at him in a girlish manner.

He let out a soft chuckle and shook his head, breaking his intense gaze. You felt relieved but also a little disappointed that you didn't get to uncover the mystery behind those blue eyes. You spotted him looking at you up and down behind his spectacles, and you were overcome with a rush of shyness. You were conscious of how little clothing you were wearing in comparison to him—you were just wearing a pair of underwear underneath your babydoll and were barefoot—as opposed to how fully dressed he was. He kept staring at you, and you could feel your heart pounding and your cheeks flushing. While you were already his, it took some getting used to the impact he had on you. Sometimes he left you almost woozy with the way he handled you. You made an effort to keep his stare in your direction, but soon you had to turn away since the intensity of his gaze became too much to bear. He made a muttering noise and stretched out to firmly grasp your chin to make you look up at him. The coolness of his rings and roughness of his large hand on your warm skin was a dangerous sensation you enjoyed but knew you'd never admit it to him. As he held your gaze, you couldn't help but feel excitement. You wondered what he was thinking as his thumb lightly brushed against your lips, making you shiver with anticipation.

"Yur jus tha prettiest lil’ thing, ya know that sweetness?" in a low tone.

You nodded to him with your doe-eyes, trying your hardest not to break eye contact. While holding his gaze on yours, gauging for your reaction, he let go of your face and slowly lifted your nightie to reveal your undies he stroked his fingers over the waistline, letting his icy rings brush across your belly, giving you goosebumps. His face lit up when he saw your choice of underwear, a simple pair of white cotton undies. You couldn't help but be embarrassed by his attention, but you also wondered what else he was thinking as he looked at you. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, but you couldn't deny the little thrill you felt of being so intimately inspected. You felt exposed but also desired, and knowing that he was the only one who could make you feel that way made him even more irresistible.

Letting your nightie drape over you once again, he held out one of his hands. You took it without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his big palm against yours. He leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck and trailing kisses down to your collarbone that left tingling sensations behind. You closed your eyes, trying your best to hold back any noise that urged to escape.

"C’mon, tiny, give yer ol' man ah lil’ spin," he encouraged whispering into your ear as he leaned back.

You agreed compliantly and did a twirl for him, your nightie flowing up a bit and revealing your clad butt to him, which he whistled at with praise. As you spun around, you couldn't help but feel a rush of giddiness.

He liked seeing you this way, it was like you were his own little doll.

You liked the sense of being entirely in his hands and enjoyed playing, exploring, and being pleased with him. As he continued to admire you, you felt your body responding to his touch, with that fuzzy feeling in your belly and your panties growing slightly damp. You were immediately distracted when you noticed that he still held something behind his back. You wanted him so desperately. The same ache could be seen in his eyes, but you quickly fought the tension that was beginning to grow between your gazes, leaving only want in its wake.

"So, w-what exactly is this new toy you were getting t-today..?" You stuttered out as you wriggled towards the arm behind his back in a kittenish manner, but he was faster than you and withdrew away before you could get a good look.

"Now, darlin’, you go ahead and sit yer lovely self on that bed there and keep those pretty eyes closed f’me, hmm.." was the command he gave in that thick drawl you adored.

With a sneer look on his face, he gestured to the side of the bed, and you realized there was no use in disagreeing with him. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, wondering what he had in store for you.

"Alright, babydoll, now hold out them gorgeous things," he said once you were comfortable on the bed with your eyes shut.

His voice made you shudder, and you extended out your small hands, palms up, as he asked. You could feel something heavy, metallic, and cold being put inside of them, and you couldn't help but want to have a look. You opened your eyes and gasped when you saw a black pistol gleaming in your hands. You were aware that Elvis owned a variety of guns, but since they were lethal weapons, he never brought them near you. You gave him a confused look as you glanced up at him with wide eyes.

"Goddamnit, honey, did I tell ya ta open your eyes?'' He voiced it sternly.

You quickly shut your eyes again, unable to utter a word.

As you sat there in your and Elvis' shared bed with a gun in your hand, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline. You had never held a firearm before, let alone a lethal one. Your heart was racing, and you could feel the weight of the gun pulling down on your dainty arms. You knew you had to trust Elvis, even though you were unsure of his intentions. You tried to calm your thoughts, but the fear of the unknown was getting overwhelming.

Suddenly, Elvis broke the silence, seeing the way your hands were starting to slightly shake, and said, "Darlin', now go ahead an open 'em pretty doll eyes f'me."

You slowly opened your eyes, still feeling the rush of adrenaline, and looked up at Elvis. He saw the rushing thoughts in your eyes, making him feel a twinge of guilt but also amusement. He took a few steps back, and it looked like he was admiring the view.

"Would'ya look ah that, mah two stunnin' girls look great together." He gasped as he stared in awe.

The way he referred to you and the gun as his girls sent a shiver down your spine, a strange mix of fear and excitement. You never expected to find yourself in this situation, holding a gun in your trembling hands. But deep down, your assurance in God gave you a glimmer of hope that everything would turn out okay. As Elvis looked at you and the gun, you couldn't help but feel a rush of confused emotions. Elvis was looking at your expression, and he couldn't help but be entertained by your confused state, but then he saw as your expression went from confusion to overwhelm. Your rookie self was sitting there with that cold weapon in your trembling hands, looking at Elvis with knitted eyebrows and a pout. He sensed your emotions were becoming too much for you and quickly moved to ease your distress. With a gentle smile, he reached out and gently took the gun from your trembling hands, placing it safely out of reach on the bed.

"I ain't mean ta startle ya, tiny. I ain't gon hurt cha." He said it softly, soothing your nerves slightly.

You nodded hesitantly, still unsure of what was happening.

"Good," he ushered as he stroked down on your hair, putting a strand behind your ear.

You took a deep breath and tried to process what was happening. So this was the 'new toy' he went to get today—a gun. Elvis was known for his extravagant gifts and gestures, but this was different. He had presented you with a gun, and although he said it was out of reach now, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. You continued to observe him, searching for answers, but he simply leaned in closer.

"I trust ya, baby," he said, his voice low and smooth.

"And I need ya to trust me too." You couldn't deny the allure of his charm, but the fear in your gut was still present. You had no idea what he was implying here.

"El-" you tried to speak before Elvis interrupted you.

"Now before you say anythin' darlin', lemme explain. Last night, ..." he paused, "it's just I had a thought, and, w-well, maybe I was wonderin' if you'd like ta bring that beaut into the bedroom, hmm? What d'ya say?"

You were taken aback by Elvis’ request and unsure of how to respond. Your gut was telling you to be wary, but you also didn't want to offend or disappoint him. Elvis was now taking off his slightly tinted glasses and placing them on the bedside table. Your eyes connected once again with his sense of urgency.

"I understand if ya ain’t comfortable with it," he said softly, his words rolling off his tongue like sweet velvet, "but I jus thought it'd be fun ta try s-somethin' different, somethin' new, together."

You weren't sure why, perhaps it was the brief tingling sensation that still lingered after your body responded to his touch from the events that occurred not so long ago, but there was something about his request that gave you a rouse deep down. Pushing that feeling away almost quickly and coming back to your senses and reality, you wondered how a gun would do any good in a setting of intimacy, which led your thoughts to race once again. Handguns are made for killing, they are no better for anything else, as you thought.

Building up the courage to speak, you expressed, "E-Elvis, I don't really understand, why, why you'd want to involve an item like that i-in our intimate space."

Elvis looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he let out sternly, "Only God knows why, hon', everythin' appears for ah reason, an that is why this idea was sent to me."

You paused for a moment before timidly looking up at the cross that hung on the wall of the bedroom.

"Sweetheart, look, you may not comprehend it right now. That may not appear ta be fair. But God knows what he's doin'." Elvis interrupted your thoughts.

He took your smaller hands in his big ones and gently squeezed them, speaking, "Trust in the Lord with all yur heart, and do not lean on your own understandin', in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight ya paths."

He had just uttered the following words from Proverbs 3:5-6 as he stared into your eyes. It was clear that Elvis was trying to soothe you and help you find peace in your current situation. Giving the cross another glance brought you back to what you had promised yourself at the beginning of the night after prayer, 'to make the most of the night and enjoy every minute of it'. You pondered for a while and thought that certainly this was truly God's notion, and he was leading you to embrace this unexpected and confusing situation as an opportunity for growth and a test of your faith. He was telling you to fulfill that promise right now.

As you looked back at Elvis, you felt a sense of calmness and knew that with him by your side and your faith in God, you could handle whatever came your way. Elvis gave you an encouraging look after observing your train of thought. You took a deep breath and decided to let go of any doubts or worries and instead fulfill Elvis' request by taking a leap of faith. While you knew Elvis wouldn't harm you, you were still a little wary about what role that particular object might play in the night's events. Eyeing the firearm where it now lay on the bed. You felt Elvis' large hand come into contact and rest on your bare shoulder, and your head shot back to his face as he gave you a reassuring smile.

"Don worry, doll," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and affection.

"I promise it'll all jus’ be like ah playful lil' game."

With a mixture of curiosity and uneasiness, you sluggishly nodded to him, “Okay-y then.”

He then went to remove his heavy blazer, slipping it off and tossing it somewhere on the bed. You flitched a little at the sudden movement but couldn't tear your eyes away from his piercing gaze. The uncertainty in your eyes was replaced by a flicker of fever as he approached, his confident steps inching closer to you. As he stood in front of you, he bent down to meet your gaze as you sat still on the bed. His broad shoulders and tall stature seemed to loom over you, emphasizing how bitty you were in comparison. With a coy smile appearing on your lips, you began to play with a lock of your hair, feeling oh so fragile in his presence. He clutched the back of your head and pulled you in close for a passionate kiss. In your overwhelmed state, your hands fumbled clumsily, unsure of where to go. He pulled back, staring into your eyes, and with a rough motion, reached for your arm, pulling you to stand up from the bed.

You couldn't help but yelp a tiny, "ouch."

His grip still firmly on your arm, he went and sat himself down on the bed. He pulled you into him right away and made you lay on your tummy beside him, he handled you like a ragdoll and pulled you over so your lower body was draped across his lap. Your uncertainty and exhilaration were both palpable as you lay there, consumed by a mix of confusion and excitement. His actions left your mind spinning, unsure of how to react or what he expected from you. You felt his big belt buckle rubbing against your bare thigh, as well as feeling his slightly protruding belly pressing against your upper thigh. In a way, it brought you sensations you didn't understand but liked. You felt his large hand rubbing up and down against your back thigh, going higher and reaching under your nightie to your clad bum as he firmly squeezed it. Feeling your face flush at this, though it wasn't new to you, you still felt shy at his actions. He scrunched the bottom of your nightie, pulling it up and revealing your undies to him.

"My, my, you are jus ah sight for sore eyes, honey." You blushed even deeper as his words sent a shiver down your spine.

His touch, combined with his compliment, made you feel excitement. You couldn't help but squirm slightly under his firm grip. As his fingers traced the edges of your underwear, teasingly exploring the delicate fabric. Suddenly, you felt the coldness of something gliding up your calf. You glanced over your shoulder to see him holding the gun. Your heart raced as a million thoughts ran through your mind. Was he really about to use the gun in such a way? You gulped nervously, unsure of what to expect next. His eyes locked with yours, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he brought the gun more upward across your leg, grazing the tip softly over your delicate skin. You slightly moved to lift your upper body, feeling overwhelmed by this new situation.

Softly you stammered, "Wait... E-Elvis...". His eyes softened as he looked at your frazzled state.

“I want no harm done ta ma baby doll, hmm, it's only ah little fun," he rasped out.

"Y'know I'll always take care of ya.” he caresses you with one hand while the pistol rests in the other along your thigh.

You start to feel more at ease as he reassures you, and gives you an encouraging look. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts. As you glance down at the pistol resting on your thigh, you look back at him and give him a timid but sweet grin. While keeping an eye on the pistol, your gaze shifts to the cross on the wall in front of you, providing a comforting sense that everything will be alright. He steadily starts to bring the gun more upward, grazing it on your back thighs and in-between them, slowly inching higher until it reaches over your clothed backside.

Despite the unsettling nature of the situation, your mind becomes foggy and your senses dulled. That fuzzy sensation rises as he traces the contours of your back thighs and rear end with the cool touch of the gun, heightening a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He brought his other hand to your hair, grabbing it, making you turn to look at him, and the way he ran the gun across your body left a trail of goosebumps along your precious skin.

In that moment, time seems to stand still as you stare into his eyes, a mix of fear and curiosity swirling within you. You watch as he inches the gun towards your undies, dragging it slowly along the fabric, teasingly close to the sensitive skin underneath. Your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest, as you wonder what he has planned next. Every nerve ending in your body is on edge, ready to experience the unknown.

As the gun hovers just above the edge of your undies, you can't help but let out a shaky breath, a silent plea for reassurances. He eyes you as he starts sliding the pistol in between you and the fabric, his gaze filled with both mischief and desire. The cool metal of the gun grazes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His other hand lets go of your hair and brings it to caress the cheek of your face, lightly squeezing it. With one hand gripping the gun and the other now firmly holding your face, he leans back slightly, to admire you. The contrast between his strong, supple thighs and your petite frame as you lay across his lap sends a jolt of anticipation through his body. As you rest against him, you can't help but feel both breathless and eager for what lies ahead. He chuckles softly, enjoying your muzzy state and the way your lips are slightly parted.

"Mah sweet yittle baby is doin' so good f'me." You can't help but blush at his words, feeling a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

His deep, even-keeled voice sends shivers down your spine as you obediently keep still, not daring to make a sound. The weight of his hand on your face is both comforting and controlling—a reminder of how much you love pleasing him and giving your all to him. As he continues to stroke your cheek, his touch gentle yet firm, you can't help but surrender further to his control. The intensity of his gaze holds you captive, his eyes piercing into your soul, leaving you feeling displayed and vulnerable. Every word he speaks feels like a command, and you are eager to comply, to show him just how much faith you have in him. He lets go of your face and directs his attention back to your clad bottom, the gun still grazing under the fabric on your buttocks as he inched closer to your dulcet parts.

But then he stops and reaches with his other hand, coming into contact with the waistband, and swiftly pulls them down to your mid thighs, revealing your bare ass, and slowly but firmly starts grazing the gun over it. Every nerve ending in your body is on high alert, acutely aware of your every movement.

Each stroke is calculated, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in its wake. As the gun traces its path along your rear, you can't help but feel a strange mix of pleasure and danger—an intoxicating concoction that leaves you craving for more. You feel a tad bit jittery but stiffen as you feel him bring the pistol along your tailbone and drag lower along the middle of your buttocks, going lower until he reaches that sensitive area between your thighs. Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of your quickened breaths.

He notices your state and coos again, questioning softly this time, "Tiny's doin' such ah good job fer me, ain't she?"

Your cheeks flush deeper with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement as you nervously nod to him over your shoulder, yearning for his approval.

As he continues to explore the sensitive area between your thighs, you can't help but feel a ripple of pleasure and shock shoot through your body when he presses the cold metal against your heat.

"Oh—mmph," you gasp lowly, your words muffled by the intensity of the moment.

The sensation is unlike anything you've ever experienced before—a tantalizing mix of pleasure and the forbidden. As he continues to tease you with the cold metal, your mind becomes consumed with a dizzying array of thoughts. You find yourself surrendering to the intoxicating pull, losing yourself in the overwhelming sensations that ripple through your body.

Elvis sees this and smirks, his grip on the gun tightens, rubbing it against your sensitive core, as he slowly speaks, "You enjoyin' that doll? See, I knows what's best for ya."

You're too overwhelmed to respond, the mixture of fear and arousal fueling a confusing rollercoaster of emotions within you. He takes a peek and sees how your flesh is pressed against the pistol, he lets out a low chuckle, seeing the slickness of your arousal starting to glisten along the gun.

"Oh, y’dirty lil' girl." he murmurs out in his smooth voice.

The physical sensations and his words, combined with the undeniable evidence of his growing desire against your thigh, heighten your anticipation, leaving you flushed. Your face probably looks like a tomato by now, but all you can do is bite down on your lip from the new sensations you're feeling. Elvis decides to push the boundaries as he brings the pistol back up along the middle of your ass, leaving your throbbing core, but this time he goes in-between your cheeks, catching a view of your small hole. You shift in his lap as you feel the cool air hit it, and your breath hitches in response. The charged atmosphere is heavy as Elvis slowly traces the outline of your anus with the muzzle of the pistol, teasingly applying gentle pressure. Your mind races with panic at the unfamiliar commotion, and you try to slowly crawl further toward the bed and away from his lap. He had never been so close to that area, and the intrusion by gun both jarred and frightened you, you felt it was getting too much for your little self.

"Wha-, no-o, not there!" you shrieked out in a high pitched voice, hoping he would attend to your plea. Elvis smirked, his hold on you loosening.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered huskily, his voice appearing playful.

"Is this too much fer mah yittle baby," he said, as he withdrew the gun from your prohibited area.

You relaxed, still feeling the tingling in your belly but also having scattered emotions. He went and placed his heavy hand on the small of your back and leaned down to kiss your bottom before giving it a light slap.

"Y’were so darn good, f'me doll." He cooed out as he gripped your arm roughly, lifting you up from your lying position along his lap.

You stumbled slightly as he pulled you up, your body still feeling weak from the intensity of the moment. As he guided you to your feet, his grip on your arm tightening, you couldn't help but feel a mix of conflicting emotions, excitement, and danger. You balanced yourself, feeling your nightie drape back down, but then heard the slight noise of your undies hitting the carpet under you near your feet, causing a sudden rush of embarrassment to flood over you. You glanced down, and so did he, both of you eyeing the wet stain you had left on them from the actions that had just taken place. Your cheeks flushed crimson, and you quickly looked away, playing with your fingers.

He couldn't help but smirk at the sight of your damp undies. Elvis stood up from the bed and towered in front of you, his presence commanding the room. You could feel the intensity of his gaze as he leaned closer, bringing his larger hand to gently pet your head. He then gripped your head towards him, his voice low and filled with a mix of desire and control.

"Did ya enjoy that, Tiny?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. Your heart raced as you met his intense gaze, unable to speak.

You nodded silently, feeling a wave of anticipation and curiosity wash over you.

His smirk broadened as he noticed your reaction—a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. Slowly, he released his grip on your head and leaned in, kissing your forehead softly. Then he took your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. As his enormous hands wandered down your body, the intensity of the moment grew, causing your body to respond eagerly. Your brain goes fuzzy once more, as your nipples harden under your silk pink nightie. As his hands trailed down your smaller frame, his touch felt intense and electrifying. His lips left yours and began to trail a path of kisses along your jawline, down the column of your neck, and to the hollow of your throat.

Your breath quickened, mingling with his as he pressed his body closer to yours, the feeling of his pudgy belly and big buckle adding a comforting weight against you. His desire was evident in the way his large hands gripped your teeny waist. His bulge grazed against your upper abdomen, and a surge of anticipation coursed through your veins, heightening the electricity between you. You felt yourself growing hotter, the slick between your thighs was starting to ooze out even more, causing your legs to clamp together involuntarily. Elvis caught this, and his lips curled into a mischievous smile. He leaned in closer, and brought his hand to squeeze your breast over the silk fabric. The touch sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you gasp softly. His fingertips danced over the hardened bud, teasing and caressing, as his other hand trailed down your back, giving your ass a light but firm squeeze. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, as the heat between you became almost unbearable. You could feel his desire pulsating against you, almost matching the rhythm of your racing heartbeat. He then dragged his hand down your body until it met the hem of your nightie, his touch tracing the delicate fabric.

The impatience built within you, as you yearned for him to explore further. His massive hand continued its journey, inching lower and lower, until it reached under and to the center of your innermost desires. With a tender yet possessive grip, he cupped your exposed, sopping core, sending a buzz of electricity through your entire being. He starts softly caressing your sensitivity, carefully switching between light strokes and firmer pressure.

"God, darlin', yur drippin' like honey down there," he whispered huskily in your ear.

The weight of his hand, combined with the coolness of his rings, made it impossible to control the rising tide of pleasure that threatened to consume you. As he continued his intimate touch, you could feel the heat building within you, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through your whole body, making your toes curl and your back arch. Elvis eyed your expression, your scrunched eyebrows, shut eyes, the slight agape of your small mouth, revealing just how lost in the moment you were. He smiled mischievously and pulled his hand away from your heat, leaving you feeling a sudden void that sent a shiver down your spine. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze filled with amusement. The air around you crackled with anticipation as he leaned in closer, his warm breath grazing your earlobe.

"How ‘bout we take this lil' nightie off ya, doll?" Your cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and nervousness as his words sent a rush of tingles down your body.

With a subtle nod, you allowed him to take control, trusting him entirely.

He gestured for you to lift your arms up, and he carefully slipped the delicate fabric over your head, revealing the curves and daintiness of your body beneath. His gaze seemed to appreciate every detail, from the suppleness of your breasts to the gentle curve of your hips. As the nightie hit the ground, you stood facing him, captivating him with your shy yet alluring presence. He brought his hands to your boobs, kneading them, causing a surge of pleasure to ripple through your body.

He admired them in his large hands, "You jus got tha prettiest, perkiest pair ah titties I've ever laid eyes on," he whispered in his drawl.

You blushed deeply, even though he'd always say the same thing every time he saw them.

He leaned down into your breasts and placed gentle kisses along the curve of each one, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled further down, exploring the softness of your stomach and the curves of your waist. You arched your back, allowing him to trail his kisses down your abdomen, leaving a trail of heat on your soft skin. He started lowering himself until he almost got to your heat.

He looked back up at you as he spoke out, "M'gon take ah look at cha doll parts, ok? darlin'." His voice was filled with a mix of lust and tenderness.

With a mumbled "A-Alright", you watched as he positioned himself lower between your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, before you interrupted.

"W-Wait, I don't want you t'get h-hurt on your knees." Elvis having health issues, you couldn't help but worry and didn't want him putting strain on his knees due to his age.

"Don't cha worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Daddy's takin' good care ah himself." He reassured you with a gentle smile, his hands caressing one of your thighs.

The concern in your eyes lingered, but his words provided some comfort. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to your throbbing heat, and a mischievous smirk played on his lips.

"But right now, I think there's sumn else that needs mah attention," he whispered huskily, "M'doll is lookin' so pretty an pink down here."

You felt a rush of heat spread throughout your body as his words sank in.

His touch on your thigh sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn't help but feel torn between his desire and your worry for his well-being. However, as his hand moved closer to your throbbing heat, you found yourself giving into his touch, unable to resist the temptation that lay before you. He grazed his fingers against your hot flesh, feeling you shudder under his touch.

As he leaned his face closer to your heat, he mumbled, "So perfect, jus f'me."

He stuck his tongue out, giving your cunt a slow, tantalizing lick that made your body arch in pleasure. The intensity of the moment washed away any remaining doubts as you surrendered yourself completely to the passion and desire coursing through your veins. A symphony of soft moans filled the air as he continued to explore every inch of your moistness with his skilled tongue. He reached over and forcibly pulled one of your legs over his shoulder while the other remained balancing your posture and allowing him better access to your throbbing core. His hands firmly gripped your hips, holding you in place as his tongue delved deeper, swirling and flicking with expert precision. He pressed his face closer into your heat, feeling his nose graze your bud, sending electrifying tingles of pleasure throughout your body. The intensity of his actions sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, causing your toes to curl up and your breath to hitch in your throat. Every sensation seemed to be intensified, with every touch and movement driving you closer to the edge of bliss. Your itty-bitty fingers found their way into his hair, pulling gently as you gave in to the overwhelming pleasure he was providing.

As he continued to devour you with his mouth, his hands roamed your trembling thighs, gripping them firmly as he held you in place. With each flick of his tongue and every gentle nip, the tension within you built, threatening to push you over the edge. You could feel your body arching towards him, desperate for release. The world around you faded into a hazy blur, leaving only its raw intensity.

"Elvis-s...feels s-so good," you managed to gasp, your weak voice barely a whisper.

The words hung in the air, heavy with desire and need. His movements became more fervent, his lips and tongue working in perfect sync to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. You could feel the slight familiar heat pooling between your thighs, your senses heightened as you yielded completely to the pleasure he was giving you. The sounds of your tiny gasps and the lapping of his tongue filled the room, creating a trance of pleasure that echoed in your ears, only pushing you more over the edge. Your body trembled with need, yearning for release, as the intensity of his mouth consumed you. Every nerve-ending tingled with pleasure, the sensation was electric and intoxicating.

With each passing second, the climax grew within you, the waves of pleasure crashing against your core. Your nails dug into his shoulders, desperately clinging to him as you rode the wave of ecstasy. His hands, strong and sure, held you steady, supporting your weight as you surrendered to the dizzying pleasure coursing through your body. Lost in the moment, you gasped for air, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. His mouth continued its assault on your dripping cunt, his tongue expertly flicking and teasing your swollen clit. Every touch sent electric shocks of pleasure through your overstimulated body, making it hard to think or speak. You tried to push his head away, tell him you needed a break, that you were reaching your limits, but he was stubborn as he continued licking up your release and savoring every drop. The intensity of his actions had you teetering between ecstasy and displeasure, your mind going numb.

As you struggled to regain control of your senses, you found yourself yanking his hair and grasping at his shoulder, trying to bring him back up to your embrace, but he wouldn't budge. The conflicting sensations of pleasure and sensitivity overwhelmed you, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably.

Finding your voice, "Too much-h..t'much, daddy-y."

You gasped, your voice trembling with a mixture of pleasure and a hint of discomfort. His actions had pushed you to the edge, and you needed him to ease off, even if just for a moment. As you tugged at his thick hair, you could feel his lips curl into a devilish smile against your skin. His grip tightened around your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continued to ravish you with his mouth. The intensity of his action nearly blurred your vision, and he pulled away to give you a look. You felt relieved but were still in a gasping and quivering mess as he held your hips to calm you and keep you steady.

"M'sorry doll, seems like papa bear jus can't get ‘nough uh yer sweet honey," he murmured, his voice filled with appetite. You give a timid smile as you try to regain thoughts.

With a strength you had never seen before, he rose from his knees, towering over you. His eyes glimmered with a mixture of hunger and adoration as he stared down at you, you couldn't help but rest your body against his from slight exhaustion. In that moment, he saw you as his cherished doll, a testament to his faith in him and the divine guidance bestowed upon both of you. As he stood before you, you noticed a subtle shift in his posture, he adjusted himself, making his bulge more prominent. You couldn't help but feel a surge of desire as his confidence and craving for you became increasingly evident. And as your fingers grazed across his hairy chest, finally breathing steadily again, he couldn't contain his passion any longer.

He took hold of your waist firmly, pulling you closer to him and gently guiding you towards the bed. Lying your naked, slender body down, grabbing the small cross that hung around your neck, he paused for a moment, his eyes fixated on the symbol. The contrast of the saintly necklace against the sinful scenario heightened the vague nature of it all. With a passion fed by the shared devotion, he kissed the cross, then left kisses against your collarbone and chest, moving lower, leaving a trail of holy desire across your skin. The sight in front of you made you purr with anticipation, every nerve in your body aflame with a mix of excitement and a tinge of fright. And in that intimate moment, the boundaries between sacred and profane melted into an ecstasy that intoxicated both body and soul. As he trailed more kisses towards your belly, he looked at you, eyeing him, he got up from the bed, and you sat up slightly to see as he tugged at his tucked shirt from his waistline and started unbuttoning it.

Your heart races with suspense, desire igniting within you as you watch him undress. The sight of his pudgy yet strong physique only intensifies your desire for him, appreciating every special detail. In this moment, he is perfect to you, captivating you with his raw masculinity and genuine desire. As he finally removes his shirt, your eyes drink in every detail, savoring the sight of his wiry chest and abdomen hair. The beads of sweat already glistening on his skin only add to his allure, making him appear even more irresistible. He watches as you're in awe of his beauty, a smug smile appearing on his face. He knows the effect he has on you, and revels in the power it gives him. Slowly, he walks towards you, his steps deliberate and confident. You can feel your heart race, and your breath quickens.

"Y'wanna try helpin’ me wit these, lil' girl?" His words flowed smoothly from his lips with that mesmerizing southern accent, the drawl adding a touch of charm to his request to help him with his pants.

You sit up more and inch closer, your legs dangling from the bed as you try to gather the courage to respond.

"P-Please, I'd like... to," you stammer at him sweetly in that soft voice he adores , your cheeks flushing with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

As you reach out to assist him, your fingertips graze over the firm bulge in his pants, making you momentarily lose focus. You quickly retract your hand, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood through your body. He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watches your reaction. Your cheeks grow even hotter as you meet his gaze. He stares into your doe-eyes, his smile never faltering.

"No need ta be afraid, hon’. Y'seen him before," he says, his voice filled with a hint of mischief.

You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure, knowing it would be the first time seeing it so up close.

With a nervous laugh, you reply, "Yes, b-but... not like this."

He can't help but chuckle louder, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek.

"Well, darlin', consider it an introduction then," he teases, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

Despite your flustered state, you manage to regain composure and slowly begin undoing his big belt buckle, the trembling in your hands being noticeable. As you struggle with the clasp, you can't help but notice the stark difference in the size between his buckle and your hands. His deep chuckle vibrates through you, a sound of amusement. With determined focus, you finally manage to loosen the belt, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. And reach over to his zipper, your voice small and shaky.

"C-Can I...can I undo this too?" you ask, biting your lip nervously.

His eyes lock with yours, a mixture of adoration and desire shining through.

"Uh course, my yittle baby can do anythin' she wants," he whispers huskily, his hands caressing your flushed cheeks.

You start bringing his zipper down, and as you do this, Elvis' heavy hand goes and gives your supple breast a light squeeze, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The touch is both gentle and possessive, sending a surge of electricity through your body. You can feel the heat between your legs rise as you continue to undo his zipper, revealing his hard on as it springs out, you can't help but let out a tiny gasp as it captures you with his size and girth up close. Despite not wearing any underwear, his arousal is evident on his glossy red tip as a bead of precum glistens at the slit. Your curiosity grows as you bring your shaky hand to give him a teasing stroke from base to tip, feeling the throbbing pulse of his large member in your hand. The combination of his commanding presence and your newfound control ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart racing, never having done this before, you looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Is this-s okay?" you asked in a shy, uncertain voice.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he gently placed a hand on your cheek.

In his deep, southern accent, he reassured you, "Doll, ain't nothin' to be shy bout’. Yer doin' just fine. Keep goin' like that, nice an slow."

As you held his cock in your hand, you marveled at its size and how it felt, barely fitting against your palm. With every stroke, you tried to mimic the rhythm you'd seen him do before when he'd spew himself on your tummy. The softness of his touch on your cheek reassured you, making you feel more at ease with each passing moment. As deep, low groans started flowing out of his mouth, you felt yourself grow more wet. His grip tightened on your cheek. The sound of his pleasure, mixed with the rush of the moment, sent shivers down your spine. You kept stroking him as you eyed it in front of you, glistening with anticipation. The sight of his throbbing member made your heart race, fueling your desire even further. His breathing became heavy, and the way his hips involuntarily bucked against your touch made it clear how much he was enjoying this moment as well. As you continued to stroke him, you felt his grip tug at your face to move closer to his manhood.

Panic shot through you as you gazed up at him with wide eyes and knitted eyebrows, unsure of what he wanted next.

"Awh, darlin’, don be scared," he whispered lovingly, his voice filled with tenderness.

"Jus wants ya to give him some gentle kisses, show me how much ya adore me," he said, his words both soothing and tempting.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart as you processed his request. This was so new to you, you'd never felt his with your lips or hands before. Slowly, you leaned in closer, your lips hovering just above his shaft. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and with a mix of nervousness and desire, you pressed your lips against him, planting soft, delicate kisses along the length of his throbbing member. As you pressed your lips against him, his scent filled your senses, it was a distinct aroma that aroused you even further, making your heart race with want. The way his flesh felt on your lips was like velvet—soft and smooth, yet with a subtle roughness that made it all the more exhilarating. You could feel his pulse throbbing beneath the surface, echoing the desire coursing through your own body.

He reached out to hold your face, making you look up at him as he ran a swipe across your lips with his thumb, "How bout' cha give him ah lil’ taste, baby," he whispered in a low, commanding voice.

The words sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned with a mixture of nervousness, knowing it'd be your first time taking him in your mouth. With a shaky breath, you obediently parted your lips, allowing him to guide his throbbing shaft towards your waiting mouth. As the tip grazed your tongue, a surge of electricity shot through your body, causing your senses to heighten and your arousal to intensify. You could taste the saltiness of his arousal mingled with a hint of his musky scent, a heady combination that intoxicated you further.

As you slowly began to take him in, your mouth stretching and adjusting to accommodate his size, a mixture of pleasure and slight discomfort washed over you. You were a bit clumsy and couldn't help but gag a little at first, trying to relax and focus on your breathing. Your rookie inexperience was evident, but you were willing to please him. Slowly, you went just past his tip trying to find your own pace and rhythm. You felt him buck into you, making you tense up a little and unconsciously attempt to back away a little, he then firmly brought his broad hand to the back of your head.

"Relax, f'me doll, jus wanna feel more of tha pretty little mouth," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to panic as you looked up at him with your big eyes.

His grip on your head tightened slightly, guiding himself deeper into your mouth. Starting to gag, you struggled to maintain control and suppress the instinct to pull away. The taste of him overwhelmed your senses, and the musky scent of his skin filled your nostrils. As his hand continued to grip your head, his pace quickened, and you could feel his desire building. Your mind raced with a mixture of fear and arousal, unsure of how to navigate this new territory.

His other hand went to caress your face, giving it a soft slap, "Doin' so good, tiny," he groaned out.

The sensation of his hand connecting with your cheek sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through your body. You felt the corners of your mouth starting to burn due to the stretch from his size, and you couldn't help but squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming sensations. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to handle, but you liked this, you liked the thrill of exploring uncharted territory with him. It was a delicate dance between pleasure and pain, and you found yourself surrendering to the unknown. As his hand continued to explore your face, you felt him trying to horse himself in deeper, but you weren't letting him as you brought your hands up to rest against his upper thighs.

He brought his large palm to stroke your throat, breathing out, "C'mon, baby, r-relax tha itty-bitty throat ah yours."

His voice was low and velvet-like, sending shivers down your spine. You hesitated for a moment, but you did as he said. As you did this, he bucked straight to the back of your throat, almost fitting his whole shaft inside. The sudden intensity took you by surprise, causing a gag reflex to kick in. You fought against it, as you let out a tiny cry that sent vibrations to his cock and only seemed to heighten his pleasure. The tip of your nose is just barely grazing against his pubic hair. The sensation of his soft curls against your skin sent a jolt of electricity through your body, fueling the fire that was already burning within you.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his arousal filled the air around you.

As he thrust deeper into your mouth, your eyes began to water. The taste of him, slightly salty and intoxicating, lingered on your tongue, further abusing your senses. Your mind became a blur of sensations, the taste of him, the pressure against your throat, and the sound of his ragged breaths. He groaned above you, the sounds of your sweet muffled yelps and his cock hitting the back of your throat seemed to just rile him up more. But just as he was reaching the edge, he suddenly stopped himself. Harshly, he pulled out of your mouth, his length glistening with arousal and your saliva.

"Goddamn, honey!" he panted, his voice filled with lust.

You gasped for air, your lips still tingling from his intense assault. Your eyeliner smudged from the force of his movements, matching the chaotic state of your mind. The taste of his saltiness lingered on your tongue, intertwining with the bitter sensation of adrenaline that coursed through your veins. You went to wipe your lips, feeling the mess of him and your drool covering your soft lips and chin, but he grabbed your hand before you could clean yourself up. His eyes locked with yours, and he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, sealing the taste of him on your lips in a deliciously filthy embrace. He pulled back, seeing your puzzled state, and reached up to clean some of your smudged eyeliner with the pad of his thumb.

"Lordy, girl, ya sure make this old man feel young again," he chuckled, his voice laced with passion.

You felt a rush of warmth surge through your body at his words. Not having a chance to answer, he gripped your face closer, giving you a harsher kiss.

As he pulled back from the kiss, his grip on your face tightened, and he forcefully guided you back down onto the bed. You let out a low gasp at his sudden roughness as you lay there, arousal coursing through your veins. The sound of his pants and buckle hitting the carpet was heard in the room, only making you more aware of the intensity of the moment. You couldn't help but bring your hand and rub your small digits over your cunt, the ache almost paining you. Elvis saw the way you were growing needier and needier, and he let out a low chuckle. As he climbed onto the bed, the mattress shifted underneath you, sending shivers down your spine. You glanced up at him with your doe eyes, feeling both needy and shy at the same time. His gaze intensified, and his lips still formed a smirk, he brought his hand down over yours and pulled it away to catch a look at your throbbing core, glistening with desire.

"M’god, yur all rosy an swollen," he teased, and he went to cup it in his hefty palm, relishing in the wetness that coated his fingers.

You felt your body jolt at his touch, showing just how sensitive you were. Your breath hitched as he continued to stroke you, his fingers dancing lightly over your pulsing center. Giving your pussy two light slaps to heighten your arousal, he chuckled lowly, reveling in the way you flinched. He pulled his hand away and positioned himself in front of you as he pulled your legs apart and made them bend so that your knees were raised, exposing your most intimate area more to him. You watched as he reached for something, a dark glimmer in his eyes. As he retrieved the pistol another time tonight, a rush of anticipation and fear coursed through your veins once again.

"It's alright, doll. Only wanna have more fun wit cha." The mix of arousal and trepidation overwhelming you.

"O-Oki," you mumbled softly after some time, your voice barely audible as you tried to steady your racing heart.

You watched as he moved closer between your legs and raised his arm over to your face, grazing the barrel along your cheek and slowly moving it towards your mouth. You look at him, and he gestures to open your mouth. You're hesitating, but comply. He swiftly inches the cold metal into your hot mouth as it grazes over your tongue, it tastes metallic and foreign. You can feel the weight of it against your tongue, the coolness spreading throughout your mouth. He slowly moves it in and out of your mouth, staring at him, his expression filled with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction. As the cold metal continues to dance against your tongue, you feel him withdraw it as a string of your saliva comes along the tip of the metal. You can't help but shudder at the sensation, a mixture of discomfort and a strange, illicit pleasure. He brings the gun down along your neck, brushing against your necklace, then to your chest, tracing a chilling path along your skin. The metal's touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Bringing the gun to your breast, he traces it over your hardened nipple. You let out a shaky breath.

"Daddy-y," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and desire.

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he replies, "Does it excite cha, doll?"

Your heart races as you nod, unable to form words.

Your body hums with anticipation as he continues his tantalizing exploration. The cold metal trails down your abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to escape your lips. He stops the gun just above your lower abdomen, his fingers gently tracing circles across your sensitive skin.

His voice drips with seduction as he murmurs huskily, "You want more, don't ya, tiny?"

Your breathing quickens, as you notice how close he is to your aching cunt. Gulping, you watch as he hovers it just above the bundle of nerves with a quick motion. You reach to stop him, your mind filled with hesitation. But he was quick to raise his hand with the gun in his grip.

“Aye now, none of that babydoll, hmm.” he asserts firmly.

You brought your balled up fists to rest on your chest and gave him an understanding pout, letting him graze the gun on your bud. As he does, a mixture of fear and excitement surges through your body. The dangerous thrill intensifies as you feel the cool metal brush against your hot, sensitive flesh. Your soft whimpers escape in short gasps as he rubs the barrel along your outer lips. As the tension builds, his touch becomes more deliberate, tracing the outline of your entrance with the cold barrel. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you feel yourself tense up as you feel him trying to push the gun inside you.

"Wait, wait!" you stammered, your voice trembling with nervousness.

"Is-isn't.. this, too dangerous Elvis?" you stumbled over your words, feeling hazy and disoriented.

The rush of adrenaline mixed with fear creates a dizzying sensation, clouding your thoughts and making it difficult to articulate your concerns. He looked at you with a stubborn expression, his gaze unwavering.

"Come on, darlin," he said, his eyes gleaming with desire.

"'Member why wer doin' this hmm, the Lord struck me with this vision, and I ain't one ta ignore His call." His words echoed in your mind, intertwining with the doubts that swirled within you.

The weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders, he leaned in towards you. Placing his forehead against yours as his grip on the gun continues toying with your entrance for access.

"No, no," you stammer, your voice shivering.

"I don't— f-feels wrong."

Fear grips your heart as his eyes bore into yours, a flicker of anger crossing his face. His grip tightens around the gun, pushing against your opening.

"Don't cha understand?" he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and fervor.

"This is tha path we must walk together, doll, guided by His will."

Your mind races, the conflicting emotions tearing at your soul. You look into his eyes and see a glimmer of hope—of someone who believes in something greater than themselves. In the midst of the intense moment, mingling with your feelings of desperation, you seek divine guidance. You hold onto the belief that, through this unsettling path, you and Elvis are bound by a higher purpose, walking together under the will of a greater power. As the intensity builds, Elvis places a hand on your cheek, seeing how your racing thoughts are slowly starting to disappear.

"Attagirl, trust in Him, in Me." he uttered in his soothing drawl.

As you look into Elvis' eyes, you find solace in his words and the comfort of his touch. In that moment, you give him a nod and surrender to the newfound growing faith, allowing yourself to trust in a higher plan. The pressure against your center intensifies as he continues rubbing it with the gun. Despite the unease, you remain connected through the shared purpose and the touch of his hand on your cheek. You feel as he retracts the gun from your entrance and backs up along your clit trying to give you pleasure in the midst of your discomfort, his movements becoming more deliberate and controlled. The combination of unease and pleasure leaves you bewildered, yet strangely more aroused. Your mind struggles to comprehend the conflicting sensations, but your body responds instinctively, arching towards his touch. He watches as you enter a state of bliss once more, the pistol getting easier to glide along your folds from all your slick. Inching the gun back towards your entrance, he presses it against you with a firm yet gentle pressure.

"Quit clenchin', honey," he grumbled, his breath tickling your ear.

You try to relax, and let go of the fear that still lingers in the back of your mind. As he eases the pistol's tip inside you, the cold metal sends shivers down your spine, contrasting with the warmth radiating from your core.

"Look at cha tiny, yur doin' purfect." he purrs out as he lifts himself from hovering over you to take a look at how your cunt clenches at the muzzle.

As he begins to move it in a slow, rhythmic motion, you can't help but be amazed at the conflicting sensations overwhelming your body. The fear that once gripped you tightly begins to fade away, replaced by curiosity. The coldness of it all sends shivers down your spine. Elvis feels a mix of satisfaction, desire, and a hint of surprise as he sees how your body responds to his actions. He puts more of the pistol's barrel in, so you're taking about two inches of the gun. You hear him chuckle as he sees how wet and heated you are, and your face flushes deep with embarrassment. He moves slowly in and out at a delicious pace that has you letting out low gasps and moans of pleasure. As the pleasure intensifies, every movement of the pistol sends waves of ecstasy through your body. The combination of fear and arousal fills the room, creating an electric and forbidden ambience. With each thrust, you tighten around the barrel, your soft gasps and moans blend into a symphony of pleasure, driving him to push slightly deeper into you. The sensation of the cold metal against your walls only heightens the intensity of the moment, as you surrender completely to the dangerous passion enveloping you.

"Daddy-y..I-." You start to feel that heat pooling in the low part of your belly, spreading through your entire body, reaching your fingertips, and curling your toes.

Elvis sees that you're on the brink of pure bliss and pulls the pistol out of your throbbing heat, leaving you feeling empty, his eyes filled with hunger. With a mischievous smile, he grazes the pistol against your folds and up to your bud, and you can't help but shudder with anticipation. The cool touch of the metal against your sensitive clit sends a jolt of electricity through your veins. As Elvis continued to tease and taunt, you grabbed his wrist with both hands, barely able to wrap around it and pressed the side of the barrel more firmly against your bud while slowly moving your hips upward.

Elvis saw this and was amused, smirking, “Look at cha honey, goin' crazy over ah piece of metal.’’

Lost in bliss, you didn't pay attention to his words, you were so drowsy from the feeling and trying to chase that sensation you craved again. This ticked something in Elvis though, he had gotten jealous over the thought of something else but him giving you such grand pleasure. He yanked the gun from you with a growl, and threw it across the room, you let out a whine while looking at him dumbfounded.

"N-no, Elvis-s!" You stammer, your voice laced with nerves and frustration.

"W-Why did you, you do that-t? I was almost-."

His eyes narrowed, and his voice was filled with annoyance.

"You was almost wha, huh? Y’were gettin' lost in some dang stupid piece ah metal!"

You bite your lip, the familiar sensation of nervousness coursing through your veins.

"but.. but you.." you stutter, confused.

He shakes his head, his bitterness evident as he moves over so he's resting against the headboard, "I jus... I don like seein' yur little pussy gettin' all soppin' wet if it ain't cause ah me. I ain't gotta be competin’ with no damn gun."

Your heart races as his words sink in, a mix of desire and uncertainty swirling within you. You bite your lower lip, feeling a sudden rush of excitement coursing through your veins as you sit up and crawl in front of him.

"But," you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

"I-I was only feeling so, so good b-because you were there w-with me." you said quietly.

His eyes darken with a dangerous intensity, and a smirk plays at the corners of his lips. His mood instantly switching again.

"Is that so, doll?" he growls out.

"I reckon, ya c’mere nd make me feel better then," he gestures you over to his lap with a swift motion.

Your heart races as you obediently move closer, your body trembling with desire, but nervous hoping he wasn't still angry. As you straddle his lap, you can feel the heat radiating from his body, igniting a fire within you. His strong hands grip your hips firmly, and you can't help but let out a small whimper as you hover above his hard throbbing cock.

"Why doncha give me ah sweet ride, darlin' '', his blue eyes dark with want.

You gulp, feeling the weight of his words and the intensity of the moment. With a raised confidence, you slowly lower yourself onto him while holding on to his broad shoulders for support, gasping at the slight stretch. Still not quite used to his size, you feel your legs quiver. His deep groan echoes in your ears as he tightens his grip on your hips, guiding you lower.

"Lord, honey, this lil' pussy needs sum stretchin'," he blurts out in a low tone.

You let out a pitiful cry as you took him in fully, your bodies becoming entirely intertwined in a passionate embrace.

"Oh...oh god," you whine, your voice trembling with pleasure.

You feel Elvis slowly beginning to thrust upward into your dripping heat, filling you completely with every movement. Each thrust sends waves of intense pleasure coursing through your body, leaving you powerless to resist his advances. As the intensity builds, the rhythm of your bodies matches the beat of your racing hearts. With each deep thrust, you can't help but surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, your senses consumed by the touch of his skin against yours.

Elvis whispered in your ear, his voice filled with lust and desire, "Y'feel so good, tiny. F-Fuck, can't get enuff of yuh."

His words sent shivers down your spine, adding to the already intense pleasure you were experiencing. As he continued to thrust into you, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate, Elvis let out a low moan that echoed through the room. The sound of his moan only fueled your own desire, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. Your body arched against his, seeking more of his touch, more of his passion.

The room was filled with the intoxicating scent of his musky scent mixed with a hint of sweat, a potent aphrodisiac that heightened the atmosphere. Each breath you took seemed to draw you deeper into the moment, as if surrounding yourself with his essence would somehow bring you closer to him. The sounds of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin echoed through the air, creating a trance of pleasure that drowned out all other thoughts.

As your bodies moved in perfect rhythm, you couldn't help but run your hands through his chest hair, feeling the softness beneath your fingertips. His groans filled the room, fueling the fire that burned between your legs. The feeling of his large arms wrapped tightly around your small waist provided a sense of security. You felt him ram into you deeper and couldn't help but let out a wail of pleasure as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed you. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, building towards an inevitable climax. His lips found yours, their touch igniting a fire within you that matched the one consuming your every sense.

You pulled away, “Oh, I, I can-n feel it in m’tummy.” you softly cried out.

"Is ma yittle d-dolly feelin’ all good in... er t-tummy?" He panted, sending shivers down your spine.

"Mhmm," you moaned, barely able to form words as the pleasure intensified.

As his thrusts continued, the sensation in your stomach intensified—a delicious ache that made you yearn for it. You could feel the tension building, the coiling of desire ready to explode into an overwhelming release. He held you even tighter, his thrusts becoming more passionate. Your vision blurring, you felt his other hand glide over to your bundle of nerves, pushing you to reach your peak of ecstasy. Each movement drew you closer and closer to the edge, until finally, you couldn't hold back any longer. With a breathless cry, you shattered into a million pieces, waves of pleasure washing over you and leaving you completely spent. Collapsing onto his hard yet soft chest, your legs trembled above him as you both basked in the impact of your intense orgasm. You could tell he was still yearning for release, his need was evident as his cock still throbbed and thrust inside you.

Catching your breath, you felt him shift underneath you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He flipped you over onto your stomach, positioning you exactly as he desired. You gasped in shock, but your jumbled mind prevented you from fully comprehending the situation. The aftershocks of your orgasm only made you struggle to process what was happening. As he entered you again, every thrust sent waves of pleasure and confusion coursing through your body. His hands firmly gripping your waist, he guided the rhythm, leaving you vulnerable and powerless to resist. Although your mind was clouded, your body arched in response to his commanding touch, willing to surrender once again to his insatiable desires. The weight of him pressed down on you, enveloping you in a delicious mix of pleasure and submission. Every movement seemed to blur the lines between pain and bliss, blurring the boundaries of your own identity. His chest brushed against your bare back, adding an extra layer of sensation to the already electrifying experience. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch and mingle with his own ragged exhales. The occasional sound of a low, guttural growl escaped from deep within him, further fueling the fire that consumed both of you. And then, unexpectedly, another climax crept up on you, taking you by surprise and leaving you gasping for air.

"E-Elvis" you wailed out.

Your voice cracked with desperation, and your body quivered with the force of the pleasure coursing through you.

“Mmf, h-hang in there, baby.” He comforted trying to soothe your overstimulated mind and body.

He continued to move against you, his own release imminent, but he didn't falter in his rhythm, driving you to the edge once again. As your mellow moans filled the room, the air crackled with a raw and primal energy, and you could feel the intensity of his desire he was clawing at. The world seemed to blur around you, your senses consumed by the blend of pleasure and drowsiness. Your mind was clouded, lost in a sea of sensations that left you highly sensitive.

Every touch, every stroke sent electric currents coursing through your body, heightening your pleasure to an almost unbearable level. The intensity became too much to handle, pushing you to the edge of sanity. You felt your body exhausted and your mind going empty, the only thing you could do was clench the sheets beneath you, desperately trying to ground yourself in some semblance of reality. The room around you felt like it was spinning, a dizzying carousel of colors and shadows. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, the air feeling heavy and suffocating against your skin. He lets out a gnawing grunt, pulls himself out, and sits up on his knees. Swiftly stroking himself until he spews his release onto your ass. You feel a sense of relief and soreness as you try to come down from your powerful orgasms and still your breathing.

He chuckles weakly, spreading his cum over both of your cheeks with his smooth tip, "T-Tiny, yer lil’ booty sure looks even p-perttier covered with mah babies." he pants out.

If even possible, your face heats up even more at his witty comment, and you gather the strength to look over back at him through half-lidded eyes, the feeling of drowsiness and contentment consuming you.

"D-did I do good, b-bub?" you murmur, your voice carrying a soft, low tone. He smiles wearily, his hand gently stroking your hair.

"Y'did more th-than good," he slurs, his voice filled with exhaustion yet affection.

You are can feel his weariness as he lies back against the pillows, his chest rising and falling heavily as beads of sweat glisten on his forehead. The room is filled with a comfortable silence and your breaths as you both bask in the aftermath of the erotic, hazardous experience. Slowly, he reaches out to caress your cheek, his touch tender and loving.

"You were perfect…perfect f'me, sweet, yittle, doll," he murmurs, sleep already taking him.

As his hand caressed your hair, you couldn't help but feel a sense of divine connection. The words wrap around you like a warm blanket, and you know that you have pleased him, fulfilled his message. The intertwining of the pleasure and fear you faced made you question the boundaries of your faith. Still drowsy, you inch closer to Elvis and rest your head against his fluffy, warm chest, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath. You looked up at his face, his eyes were closed in peaceful contentment. The room is dimly lit, with the soft glow from a lamp in the corner as you both lay in each others mess. On the wall, the cross hangs, casting a shadow that dances alongside the gentle sway of his snores. You close your heavy eyelids, cuddling closer to his warmth, succumbing to exhaustion from the nights events as sleep overtakes you both.

- This is the only account I have and the only platform I’ll be uploading my stories on, just informing in case my stories get stolen and re-uploaded somewhere else.

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙇𝙞𝙨𝙩

₊ ⊹ Taglist: @18lkpeters @doll-elvis @eliseinmemphis @prompted-wordsmith @rockstarg1rl @dkayfixates @livelaughelvis @honey6578 @girlblogger2002 @justinlovewithjulesvaughn @velvetelvis

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jhoneybees · 6 months

Note

hii! can i request 70s!elvis x reader where elvis fucks up and reader leaves him, but they make up at the end? thank you!!

Oh my gosh I'm so sorry for making you wait for SO long!! I love this idea and got @elvisalltheway101 to help me with this one!! A lot of the credits go to her!🫶

Sorry

Characters: early!70sElvis X Wife!reader

Warnings/triggers: argument, leaving someone, crying

_____________________________________________

It is known that Elvis’ career is slowly… going down the toilet, and as a loving wife, it upsets you as much it upsets him but you’ve only just found out about the news half an hour ago during a sit down with wine from Sonny when he was sloshed out of his mind which you thought was his drunk brain making it up until you turned to ask Elvis, seeing his eyes looking away with a hint of insecurity.

“Why didn’t you tell me, this is happening?” you ask as you toss the headband you were wearing onto the shared bed. Running a hand through your hair as you turn your back to watch Elvis plunge down onto the sunken couch, lazily reaching forward for the TV remote.

Elvis lets out a sigh “It’s not as bad as you think it is, Honey” his words coming out in a mutter.

You frown at his response, scoffing as you walk closer “Not as bad as I think?” stopping in your tracks behind the couch, crossing your arms as you give Elvis a stern look.

“Elvis, you know I’m willing to help..I want to help-”

“I-I don’t wanna worry your pretty little head”

He responds quietly with a small deceivingly enthusiastic smile. Some part of those words are true, he really does appreciate your unconditional help but he thinks that he can handle it himself, his eyebrows lift as he offers his hand for you to hold so you could sink onto the couch with him and cuddle, truthfully wanting to drop the subject, only for him to earn a quirk of an eyebrow from you.

You sigh quietly as you close your eyes for a moment “I’ve helped you with so many things during our 4 years of marriage, Elvis” hearing a muffled thump of his offering hand fall onto the decorative cushions and a small groan, you open your eyes to see him pinching the bridge of his nose.

His voice low, growing more firm “Let’s talk bout somethin’ else, alright?”

You scoff again “This is your career we’re talking about!” you lift your arms in the air, reminding him of what he has worked so hard for “You’ve worked so hard to get all these things you want, the house, the guns, the jewellery, the cars, the fans, you bought your Mama a pink cadillac when you were starting out for God Sake and you’re just letting all of it go down the dra-”

“Enough, Y/n” he warns, rubbing his face with his hands still keeping his eyes trained on the TV.

“It’s-”

“SHUT UP, I’M TRYING MY GODDAMN BEST AND I DON’T NEED YOUR F*CKIN’ HELP”

You flinch terribly and quickly take a few steps back, your frightened filled eyes seeing a sight of Elvis that you have never seen before and a sight that he swore on his own damn grave to not ever show you.

His chest heavily rises and falls as his finger points at you, his face softening as he closes his eyes while dropping his arm to his side. Looking down at the floor as he takes a deep breath “Honey-”

“I’ll pack my things and go then” your voice shaky and weak, breathing in as you turn on your heel. Closing your eyes as you feel his warm hand wrap around your wrist, holding it tightly.

“H-honey, I-I’m sorry, w-w-we can talk this out baby” the sudden frantic tone in his voice pulls at your heartstrings, you know he didn’t mean what he said but it’s best to just let him have his own space to think.

“Let me go…” you say weakly, pulling your wrist out of his grasp as you walk up towards the shared bed, grabbing a suitcase out from the closet in the bathroom to lift it onto the mattress. Brushing Elvis’ hands away from yours “Don’t touch me” tears stinging your eyes.

“Please baby, I-I appreciate your help so much, so much baby- please” his eyebrows furrowing as you throw clothes into the suitcase. Hearing the slightest whimper from his lips as his hands find their way around your waist “Sweetie-”

Pushing his hands away for the last time before buckling the suitcase up, gripping the handle tightly you walk to the door. Opening it with a bit of force, your blurry vision looking back at the dark figure of Elvis following after you “Y/n please…d-don’t go”

You inhale sharply, taking a step forward to place a kiss on his cheek. Your hand applies pressure to his chest as he tries to take the suitcase from your hand “Don’t go, w-we can talk about this” Looking from one eye to the other, you see that fear in his eyes.

“..Bye..Elvis” you whisper.

You know he’s frustrated and stressed and you really can’t comprehend how big the pressure Elvis must be feeling, yes you don’t have to know everything but you get worried.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pushed on the topic.

“Hey Y/n, should I wear red or pink lipstick?” You look over your shoulder, a soft smile on your face as you see your friend holding a lipstick in each hand, You’ve been staying at her house ever since the argument happened, after she asked you how things are going over the phone just expecting a pleasant conversation with you. She was devastated to hear the news and offered to pay for a plane ticket back to Memphis and host you at her house which you reluctantly accepted.

“I think pink would look better” you reply, closing the magazine you were reading and leaving it on the coffee table. Your friend hums “Hm, I thought so too..” lowering her hands as she walks back into the other room.

You sigh quietly, turning your head back down at the magazine you were skimming through. As you skip through a few pages, there’s a knock. A desperate one, it sounds. When your friend raises a brow and glances back at your seat on the couch, “expecting someone?” She asks. You share the same confusion and shake your head. “Oh maybe it’s the make-up set from Europe I told you about! It’s supposed to arrive this week.” She smiles widely while skipping to the front door.

you hear dead silence and feel disappointment in the air. Since being in another room, you don’t know who it is or what it is. “It’s definitely not the European make-up set.” She calls out, and you can just see the unacceptable frown on her face.

“w-who is it?” You say out softly but you already know in your gut who it might be. You hear a scoff and just know there was an eye roll with it, “it’s no one, especially someone not wanted.” she says out, her upper lip curled in attitude as she glares across the man at her doorstep.

Starting to get irritated from being in the unknown, you brush off the chips from your lap and walk among the creaky floorboards to where she is. Your eyes widen at the human being that’s presented.

Of course you expected Elvis, but not in this condition. Standing straight and tense, breathing heavily as he smacks his lips and looks around. He looks exhausted, absolutely exhausted. Gray circles forming from the worry and lonesome upon his tawny flesh that rests tiredly under his eyes. Oh his blue eyes, a gray cloud in those pupils, the pretty sky blue eyes that would mimic the bright, shining and welcoming sun. But now showing a perfect impression of a cloudy day with the sky’s cries of rain. He looks so out of it. Out of himself….all because you were gone for such little time?

His weary eyes then connect to yours and you gasp softly, able to feel the immense pressure on his shoulders from the fear that you were lost. The thought of losing the only person that mattered to him mostly.

“Oh Y/n!” Your name comes out his lips like a prayer of great thanks, and before you know it, you’re being completely engulfed in his arms.

“A-ah’ve been so worried. So goddamned worried about you, A-ah had been searching for you. A-asking every goddamn store in Memphis!” His soft arms squeeze around your shoulders tight, almost as if you’ll wash away from existence and beneath his eyes if he even lets go for air. His faint spicy, floral cologne surrounds and you inhale to your lungs as you flutter your eyes closed.

“I’m so sorry, baby. S-s-so sorry. Hell, I’d get a whopping if my mama caught me talk atcha like that. I’m so sorry y/n. I’ll plead with all my existence, a-all my life I’ll make it up to ya.” He whispers so desperately, and hugs you tighter to his chest.

Your eyebrows furrow and you slowly lift your arms to rub his back gently, letting out a breath you feel like you've been holding onto the entire week, your back sensing your friend has left the room, sick of the love fest but glad you have both made it up and no one’s gonna get hurt.

You smile gently and connect with his eyes once again with a soft smile, “it’s okay Presley,” you giggle softly and you can feel the radiating warmth of relief and love in his eyes.

He heaves out a breath with that shy crooked grin “You're the most important, Honey. I-I don't know what I was thinkin” his slightly shaky hands cupping the sides of your face.

Your smile softens as you do the same, wiping your thumbs near his eyes, seeing the gray skin under his eyes “Elvis…” his calloused hands careful to hold your wrists, he leans into your touch.

“Jesus… I thought I lost you”

#elvis presley #I am so sorry for taking so long!!#elvis #elvis fans #i love him #70s elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis fandom #elvis imagine #elvis x y/n

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ladelinee · 4 months

Text

Authors note: This was a challenging part to write. I had many doubts about how to approach it, but I couldn't wait to finish and share it with you all! Enjoy! 🥰

Word count: 3,5K

Warnings: cussing, mentions of pills, a bit of violence.

All shook up

Part 7

"Goddammit man, she ain't killed nobody! And I swear to God, whoever swiped my gun… I'll tell you what, I'm gonna rip his goddamn spine outta that son of a bitch!" Elvis hollered in the living room.

He was clearly getting desperate, pacing back and forth, plopping himself down on the sofa, nervously bouncing his knee, and wiping his face with his hands in sheer frustration.

Most of his guys were in the room supporting him: Joe, Red, Sonny, Lamar, Marty, Charlie, Jerry, Billy…even Vernom, his father.

Elvis's yells made the room fall quiet for a

moment as all the guys jump to attention.

They were sitting in a circle, looking serious and deep in thought. Smoke from their cigarettes filled the air, making it hazy, but they didn’t seem to mind. Each guy had this mix of worry and determination written all over his face, but they were ready to face whatever came their way as a team.

Elvis felt the knot in his stomach tighten as he grappled with the words the Colonel had spoken earlier. He didn't want to admit the truth, but deep down, he knew he was in a challenging situation. The accusations shook him to the core, leaving him with an unsettling feeling.

As Elvis paced the room again, his frustration boiling over, Joe spoke up. “She was so sick she could barely stand. There’s no way she could’ve done anything like this.”

Red nodded vigorously, adding, “Yeah, Elvis, she was practically passed out. I had to carry her. Shooting a gun? Not even in her wildest dreams.”

“Maybe we should start by figuring out who had access to the penthouse. That’ll give us a place to start.” Lamar suggested as he stared at the table deep in thought.

Charlie reacted to Lamar's words “ But we need to be careful. The police are gonna be all over this, and they won’t hesitate to come down hard on us” he warned in a severe tone.

"Women... always causing trouble," Marty quipped, laughing and puffing his cigar.

Elvis erupted in rage, charging over to where Marty was seated and seizing him by the collar. "Ya think this is funny, you damn fool?" He yelled with anger, his knuckles turning white from the gripping.

Marty’s laughter died in his throat as Elvis’s fury bore down on him. Joe and Red rushed forward, attempting to pull him away from Marty. “Come on E, let him go” Joe urged, his voice tinged with concern.

Marty, visibly shaken, straightened his collar and cleared his throat nervously. “I-I’m sorry, Elvis. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

Elvis looked at Joe and could see from his expression that everyone was there just to back him up. After taking a deep breath and pausing briefly, he approached the group. He placed his hand on the back of the couch and began to speak.

"Alright, y’all…here's the deal: Billy, Lamar, and Sonny, you guys go and check out those who have access to this room. Joe, Red, get yourselves ready for talkin’ with the police. We ain’t hidin’ nothin’. Rest of ya, gather up information and keep the press outta here. Dad, you take care of the Colonel.”

With confidence, the guys nodded in agreement to Elvis's instructions, and each one began to leave the room to carry out their assigned tasks. Jerry approached and gave Elvis a pat on the back. “Don't worry, we'll find that son of a bitch” he said, trying to reassure Elvis.

Still slightly panting with anger and staring at the floor, Elvis couldn't respond to Jerry's words. His frustration simmered, and he simply wanted everyone to leave the room. The only thing that could make him feel better was his upcoming date with Y/n and talking to her about everything. He was eager to see her again and to keep her safe.

The scalding water from the shower had managed to calm his boiling rage. As Elvis carefully wrapped a towel around his hips, he began to lather his face, preparing for a clean shave. His plan was all set in stone; he had his outfit picked out and the perfect undercover car chosen. This time, Elvis had opted to go alone throughout Las Vegas, and he already had a gun in mind to carry for protection and a foolproof escape route from the hotel up his sleeve. A smirk played at his lips as he realised that thanks to y/n, he had the perfect strategy for slipping away undetected.

Emerging from the bathroom, Elvis drifted into a reverie. He yearned for moments alone with her, with no rush. Oh, how he craved the simple pleasures: sharing a meal, witnessing her radiant smile, smelling the fragrance of her hair, and feeling her warmth...

“Oh, there you are!”

Priscilla's voice abruptly shattered the daydream that was consuming Elvis' thoughts at that moment.

Elvis's eyebrows furrowed as a feeling of annoyance washed over him. He hadn't expected her to come at that moment, especially when he was already dealing with a lot. This moment felt like déjà vu. Every time he was about to meet y/n, Priscilla suddenly showed up. She moved around the bedroom, smiling tenderly at Elvis.

Priscilla approached him and took hold of his face with both hands before leaning forward and kissing him. Elvis didn’t move a muscle; his eyes remained open and fixed on hers the entire time. He didn’t kiss her back, not even for an instance. He just stood there, letting her kiss him.

“What are you doin’ here, Cilla? you should’ve phoned before comin’ over.” Elvis asked while he gently pushed away Priscilla’s hands over his face. He really hated her surprises, and he was still processing why she was there, just as he was about to leave.

“I just wanted to see if I could melt that icy heart of yours…maybe we can give ourselves another chance” Priscilla answered gently, brushing her nails over his wet chest down to the towel.

Elvis’s jaw clenched as he felt Priscilla’s touch,

“Cilla, this ain’t the time” he managed to say, his voice strained. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. There’s… there’s been a murder and it seems someone got me involved. I gotta go.”

“What happened? Please, you have to tell me” Priscilla insisted, her tone of concern and seriousness. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it might all be a misunderstanding.

Elvis turned his back to Priscilla to take his robe and put it on. "The girl was murdered in my assistant’s office, with my gun. And I know it wasn’t her." He explained as he tied the robe’s belt.

Priscilla's eyes widened in surprise as she struggled to contain her rage. "With your gun? H-How?" Priscilla's nervousness was evident in her hesitant question. She understood something had gone wrong in Angelica’s plan. Then, gaining composure, she changed her expression to a darker tone, "I'm sure she stole the gun. How can you be so certain it wasn't her?"

With his back still turned towards Priscilla, Elvis glanced at her from the corner of his eye and said, "Because... she spent the night with me." He stayed calm, keeping his explanations short and simple.

Priscilla pretended to be surprised. She knew she had to perform a whole act so Elvis wouldn’t suspect anything.

Priscilla’s eyes filled with tears, her lower lip trembling as she struggled to comprehend his words. “Oh, Elvis”, her voice breaking. “How could you?”

"Please, don't act like you don't know what I'm talkin’ bout", Elvis scoffed, looking at the ceiling and rubbing his eyes. "I ain't no fool, darlin'. I know them employees gossip; it’s not the first time, and you sure have your contacts among 'em." Elvis couldn't stand it when Priscilla played the victim.

Immediately, guilt washed over Elvis as he turned and watched her tears fall. Despite his anger, he couldn’t bear to see her cry and felt a deep sense of remorse. “Look, sorry, I-I need to go.”

Priscilla wasn't ready to back down. "Fine," she retorted. "Running off to see your little fling while there's a murder investigation going on. That's just like you, Elvis" she snapped, wiping her tears away. "You can't leave me here; I might be in danger; we need to talk." Her words were filled with a strange mix of anger and helplessness.

Elvis stared at her silently, feeling torn. While he wanted to give Priscilla a break, his concern for their daughter’s well-being held him back. At the same time, he knew that their relationship had changed. Although she remained important to him, the romantic spark was over.

A loud knock on the door abruptly broke the silence between them. Elvis let out a curse under his breath, wondering who could possibly be coming now. As soon as he opened the door, his expression changed drastically. It was the police. Elvis's mind raced as he tried to process the unexpected arrival of law enforcement.

The police officers on the other side exchanged glances before one spoke up. “Mr. Presley, we need you to come down to give a statement.”

"Sure, Sir" Elvis replied with a resigned sigh, casting a final glance back at Priscilla. "I'll be right back" he assured her. "I'll stay, so we can wrap this up later, alright?" With that, he turned his attention to the police officers and followed them outside, leaving Priscilla behind.

The police arrived at my doorstep with a search warrant, and before I knew it, I found myself being escorted into their car without any explanation. I couldn't even be sure if they had read me my rights.

As the police car pulled from my house, I couldn't help but stare out the window. The streets rushed past, each turn carrying me farther from the life I once knew.

The officers in the front seats occasionally exchanged glances, speaking in hushed tones that I strained to understand.

Finally, we arrived at the police station. As I entered, the harsh fluorescent lights exposed the sterile surroundings. My heart pounded as I was escorted to a small interrogation room. The door clicked shut behind me.

Alone in the stark room, I sank into a chair, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

The harsh glare of the spotlight in the police station room was so intense that it felt like it was burning into my retinas, making it nearly impossible to focus. Since Elvis called, my thoughts have been trapped in a thick, suffocating fog. Everything happened so quickly; my world felt like falling apart, but I couldn’t even cry. I was too shocked.

A stern-faced detective and an officer entered the room as the door creaked open. The detective's piercing gaze bore into me as he took a seat, relieving me from the harsh spotlight.

“Miss y/ln, correct?" the detective inquired, flipping open a document-filled folder.

"Yes" I affirmed, meeting his gaze.

"We're going to ask you some questions. You have the right to remain silent until your lawyer arrives. It's your decision," he stated, arranging the papers.

"It's okay, let's proceed."

"Alright. Miss y/ln, to begin with, there has been a murder," he explained, displaying a photo of my office. "Is this the office where you typically carry out your work tasks?"

"Yes, that's correct."

The detective leaned in, his expression grave. "Now, Miss Y/ln, can you take us through what you were up to on the night of the incident?" He shifted his gaze from the papers to me as he asked.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I had to tell the truth, but I was getting nervous as I didn’t remember part of the night.

“Well, I was working in Mr Presley’s private party…” as I was explaining, the officer was taking notes, recalling that night was hurting me more than the thought of the police sending me to jail “(…) and I spent the night with him in his penthouse.”

“Right. Now, Miss y/ln, this is why we searched your property” he said, displaying another photograph. The photograph was the victim’s hand holding a piece of paper.

“It’s a note that reads: ‘Don’t freeze out there while I’m not with you, baby. Meet me at midnight, backstage. -E.’ We also found fibres in her hand that matched your coat at your residence. Can you explain this?”

I froze at that moment. Why did she have that note? It was from the box I left in my office. But how did she come across it?

"Mr. Presley gave me a present. It was a box that contained a coat and that note. I left the box and the note in my office," she explained.

"Then it's possible that in the middle of the night, you took Mr. Presley's gun and shot the girl after she found out about your secret affair?" he pressed, increasing the pressure on me.

"No, no, no... I would never harm anyone or steal, for god’s sake!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with panic.

"We've traced your telephone conversation with Mr. Presley earlier today," he stated calmly, retrieving another document from the stack of papers and presenting it to me. It was a transcript of our conversation. "'Oh, I know, but I reckon you might have headed to your office after Joe and Red took you back'... Miss y/ln, what do you have to say about this?" The detective asked.

As I heard those words once more, spoken by none other than Elvis, it felt like a punch to the gut. I was left speechless, grappling with the weight of his harsh accusations. Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn't hold them back.

"Okay, let's take a break," the detective said gently. "We'll continue once you've had a chance to compose yourself."

When you sit down to watch a horror film, you know it's going to scare you. Even though you're fully aware that it will give you nightmares, you still can't resist watching it. That's exactly how I felt after my last conversation with Elvis.

Bursting into tears that were almost choking me, I couldn't help but read the script repeatedly, engraving those words in my mind with fire.

I began reading from the start once more, over and over again, and...

Hold on.

“I-t’s me, darling”

“M-aybe this ain’t the right moment”

“N-o darlin’, I ain’t comin’ over”

“O-h, I know, but I reckon you…”

“T-he truth is, I can’t risk hanging…”

“S-orry, darlin’, but…”

“A-one-night stand, I guess”

“N-ot to mention darlin”

“T-ake care of yourself, honey”

“A-nd one last thing”

I- I’m.. not…S- a- nta? I’m not Santa! Santa Claus? But what is this?

As I looked on, my eyes widened, and a shiver ran down my spine. It couldn't have been a mere coincidence. My hands began to tremble involuntarily.

Alex, you are a fucking genius.

Why did he do this? To protect me? No, he would have been straightforward; he was hiding this message for a reason. He wouldn’t hurt me unless someone forced him to do so. Something must have happened. Actually, I didn’t see him around my office this morning, and he never missed a gossip.

Oh god, he is in danger.

"Officer!" I yelled, my heart racing. "Please, you have to help. My friend is in danger, something's not right." My words tumbled out in a mix of worry and hope. If the police took this information seriously, maybe they could finally uncover the truth and find out who was behind it all.

As soon as the detective burst into the room, his expression was a mix of surprise and concern. I quickly launched into explaining the encrypted message from the conversation transcript, but his expression grew darker as I spoke. He abruptly left the room to make a phone call, leaving me wondering what was happening.

He took the nearest telephone just in the corridor in front of me. So I was able to see him. He said, “She knows too much. Alright, thanks," and hung up.

I was utterly confused. Before I could make sense of anything, he rushed over and grabbed my arm, saying aggressively:

"You're coming with me. We're visiting someone.”

Elvis spent nearly 5 hours giving his statement, determined to ensure that every detail was known. His affair was now public knowledge, but he didn't mind, as long as y/n was safe. Sonny escorted him to the floor where his penthouse was located.

"Sonny, stay close. If ya hear anything, give me a heads up," Elvis urged, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Sonny nodded with concern in his eyes and said his goodbyes to Elvis.

As Elvis closed the heavy wooden penthouse door behind him, he leaned against it, feeling the coolness of the polished mahogany against his back. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, trying to relieve the pounding headache that had been building up throughout the chaotic events of the day.

He walked into the bedroom and saw Priscilla peacefully asleep in bed. A wave of relief washed over Elvis as he realised he wouldn't have to deal with her just yet.

Elvis was extremely cautious as he quietly made his way into the bed, ensuring not to disturb Priscilla. He positioned himself along the edge, making a conscious effort to avoid any physical contact with her. His mind was racing, and despite his strong desire to take sleeping pills, he resisted, determined to remain awake in case any updates were to come in.

He couldn't get the police's information out of his head: the note clutched in the victim's hand and a shocking new revelation about the weapon - only Elvis and the victim's fingerprints were found.

Elvis spent the night staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. As the first rays of sunlight peeked through the closed curtains, he heard Priscilla stirring. He kept his eyes closed, not ready to face her yet. He feigned sleep, knowing she would probably leave early.

He felt her hand on his waist and her breath near his ear. Priscilla kissed his cheek and whispered, "I have some appointments but I'll return soon. I love you."

Elvis remained silent, his breathing becoming deeper and more steady. He had fooled Priscilla into thinking that he had taken sleeping pills. Noticing his oblivious state, she reached for the phone on the bedside table, ready to make a call.

"I'm on my way," Priscilla said.

Elvis found it odd, but he assumed she was probably heading to have breakfast with Joe's wife or something similar.

Once Priscilla left the room, Elvis slowly opened his eyes. Sitting up in bed, his dark circles were a clear sign of exhaustion.

He heard the door creak open, and for a moment, he thought Priscilla was returning to the room. Quickly, he lay back down on the bed.

“God, Mr. Presley, I am so sorry!" Doris's voice broke in as she saw Elvis in bed with one eye open and the other closed.

"Oh, it's just you, darlin’. No need to worry, come on in," Elvis said, brushing off her apology.

“I'm really sorry; I saw Mrs Presley and thought I could come in to clean the room," Doris said, looking at Elvis, clearly a bit worn out. "Mr. Presley... are you okay? Shall I call in-room dining service?

"Don't worry, darlin’, I'm fine... thank you so much", Elvis replied with a forced smile, but with every intention of making Doris feel comfortable.

Doris continued cleaning as she glanced at Elvis's face once again, her gaze then fixed on the floor. She knew Elvis was suffering; that poor boy was under much pressure, especially as a public figure. She began to ponder as she straightened out one of the corners of her uniform jacket.

"Mr. Presley, I think I need to tell you something," Doris said with a frightened tone.

"Don't ya worry about the mess, darlin’, the guys were here last night. I know it's full of cigarette ashes and Lord knows what else," Elvis said with a smirk.

"No, it's not that, Mr. Presley," Doris said with a serious tone.

Elvis opened both eyes, sat in bed again, and asked eagerly, "Then what is it?"

"I-I don't think it was y/n who killed the girl," Doris said, afraid to speak.

“Ah, I agree. I'm sure it wasn't her," Elvis said while twirling the rings of his fingers deep in thoughts as he nodded in agreement.

"Mr. Presley..." Doris began, cautiously approaching Elvis.

"Perhaps you misunderstood me. I think I know who is behind this murder.”

Need to recap? Part 6 here

Part 8 here

Tags: @pxpresley ❤️❤️

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dutiful-wildcraft · 4 months

Text

Lies and Alibis

Part 2, Previous, Next

Nikolai/Plus Size F!OC

This one's a bit longer! Nothing to scary, but their is some violence. Again this is a bit silly and very self indulgent, please enjoy!!!

banner by @/une-femme-de-lettres

Life or death situations really do sober you up, which is really handy considering very big men with very big guns were now looking for her. She tries not to tremble too badly as she scans the bathroom for something, anything really to help her.

Best case scenario, she escapes with all her limbs intact. Preferably.

Worst case scenario, they bust in and simply kill her then, a quick bullet to the dome. There were certainly more worse scenarios…but there was no time to line all those details out. She shudders.

Think think think.

Locking the door would only make her presence inside more obvious.

Find a weapon? She's seen broads in movies use the ceramic back of the toilet as pretty solid weapon before, she knows if she clocks someone just right it would at least knock them out.

She peers into the stall, and of course there isn't one. Stupid automatic flusher.

She turns again, eyes the small windows lining the far wall and nearly curses. She couldn't even fit her tits through the opening let alone the rest of her. Who the fuck even makes a window like that?

She can hear more yelling outside, and her heart pounds. She wasn't going to make it out. Not without someone seeing her.

She’s desperate, mind racing as a very hairbrained thought occurs to her.

If she was going to die cartoonishly, her fat ass wasn't going to be shot to swiss cheese hanging out of window she most certainly was going to get stuck in. Instead she works the glass pane open, pushing it as far as it could go before peeling off her heels and tossing them haphazardly onto the floor below the opening.

With the clock ticking she scampers on bare feet into the handicap stall, leaving the door open a crack and climbing onto the toilet in the far corner. She was thankful that nicer bathrooms didn't have a crack a mile wide between the frames. She hunkers a bit, feet on the bowl with her ass resting against the wall to brace her.

This was stupid, really. Beyond stupid, suicidal even. But her mama did not raise a quitter.

The door opens and her heart catches in her throat. She holds her breath as a pair of footsteps echo against the pearly tile. One set coming closer as the other kicks open the other closed stalls ahead of her. Oh god. She was going to die like this. On a toilet, Elvis style. She almost starts to cry, clutching her hands over her mouth to stifle her trembling breaths.

I escaped, I escaped.

A voice rings out in the quiet, disbelieved barking.

“Blyat, Sbezhal!!”

What.

More cursing. A frantic phone call, and hurried steps out of the bathroom follow.

She waits. That…that seriously worked.

Holy shit. That worked.

She climbs down on shakey legs and puts an ear to the door, listening carefully for any more noise. The commotion must have cleared the place, and she cracks the door into the dead quiet. She'd planned to bolt, hit the door and run for her fucking life, but she thinks of her knight in glittering gold jewelry.

She doesn't know why now out of all times she feels guilty for a random russian mobster. He couldn't have been too much better than these other men, and for all she knows if it was his business she was poking into he would have had her murked too.

He helped you.

For reasons unknown, or perhaps even nefarious, but she didn't know that, just like he didn't know having her on his arm would get him a gun stock to the face.

Her eyes flicker between the door to her escape and the long hallway they'd taken him, and she sighs, long and ill suffering.

This is beyond stupid, she grouses inwardly, crawling her way underneath another set of hallway length windows in an effort to not get her head blown off by the rifle toting jarhead she'd seen walking the perimeter.

She didn't have much besides “Grab Nikolai and Leave”. The details around even that fuzzy, not to mention the man may or may not be dead…or at minimum very angry with her. She pauses dead for a second, a little spinning wheeling flashing in her mind's eye as she slowly works that problem out.

…maybe he won't be so mad if she helps him. He could at least get them out of there and hunt her another day.

Too late to go back now.

From what they could tell they were searching the woods for her. What remnants of the dinner party left long gone in the aftermath, with just a few men and her knight left.

She continues following the trail of blood and black skid marks from well polished shoes down fancy tiled corridors. Pausing around the corner as the sound of wet thuds and pained grunts hit her ears, followed by more seething russian.

Words so snarled she can barely understand. Something about her, betrayal, stupidity. Their captive rasps. Feigning ignorance.

No, not feigning, telling the truth. As the familiar voice definitely belonged to Nikolai, a light edge to it despite his predicament. Her heart pangs with guilt. This was definitely her fault.

She's fully prepared to play the waiting game, find a place to hide until at least one of the guards leaves the room. That is until she hears the light tap of a shoe on tile far too late, turning just in time to catch the pistol careening with her face.

Fucking, ow.

Her head bounces off the marble and she sees stars, body laying limply on the floor as she attempts to reboot.

He'd definitely busted her head open, hopefully she wouldn't need stitches, but probably considering she could already feel the blood slipping into her hairline.

And as she takes stock of herself, she realizes that he definitely thinks he's knocked her out, judging by the way he bitches, grumbling about her weight before unceremoniously grabbing her ankle and dragging her along.

She bites her tongue, forces herself to fall limp despite the radiating pain in her skull. Cracking like lightning as her head thunks between the grout.

Eventually she's stopped, her thick leg flung hatefully to the floor as a door slams behind her. She keeps still. Listening. There was another, ragged labored breaths. She dares to crack her eye just a smidgen, taking in the blurry visage that was Nikolai, his limp black locks hiding his face from her view.

Okay. Target located. She hadn't necessarily planned playing possum to get there but hey, a win is a win.

Win number two, a knocked out fat girl was apparently not threatening enough to justify security. Her arms and legs left splayed lifelessly beside her and undisturbed.

The door clicks again. Followed by heavy footsteps.

New problem.

She cracks her eye again, watching the guard stalk back and forth through the blurred slit of her eyelids. His back, thankfully toward her.

He's yapping again, yanking Nikolai back by the hair to sneer. Monologuing as power hungry idiots are wont to do.

Her eyes scan the room fully now. She can make this work. He's bigger than her but she's got enough ass to swing hard if she needs to. Enough pressure in the right place can knock anyone out. Jaw, temple, base of skull, she lists.

Her eyes search, lamp, chair, paperweight, all doable but loud….her eyes fall just above her. Pretty velvet curtains tied back neatly with thick, golden tasseled chord. Bingo.

Keeping her eyes glued to her chatty assailant she reaches upward, fingers barely grasping at the silky strands before tugging it down the length of the curtain, catching it swiftly before it could thunk against the floor.

She'd needed to be quick for her next trick. She eases herself up. Wrapping the chord around both palms, steeling herself for what could very well be the worst decision she's ever made. Cut off blood supply, crush his windpipe. She pictures the anatomy in her head, and before she can bitch out she lunges, throwing the chord around his throat and yanking.

There's a choked gasp as she twists, turning her body 180 and pulling down sharply, attempting to use her own weight to assist in strangling the man. He thrashes against her back, nearly toppling them both over. She's too short, his legs still able to scrabble against the ground.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She twists again, maneuvering her arms to twist the makeshift garrote around his throat into more of a noose. They both stumble in the struggle, falling to the floor in a heap.

Absolutely fucking not.

She scrambles, keeping the chord pulled taut around the guards neck as she kicks her feett out, planting them both against the man's shoulders and yanking with all her might. Keeping her legs stiff and holding onto the chord for dear life, palms straining as she simultaneously pushes and pulls.

He really flails now, legs kicking and eyes bulging. Dull nails drawing blood against her calves and ankles where he fights to claw her off. She'd be impressed with his tenacity had she not been fearing for her own life. How fucking long did it take to strangle someone?

“Pull harder, zaychonok” a voice rasps over the gurgling and choking in the room. Nikolai.

And she does, grunting with the effort as she pushes with her knees, keeping the chord pulled tight against her chest, whole body beginning to tremble with the effort.

“pull, keep pulling, more, more”

The man at her feet tries to howl, frothing and flailing desperately before there is a sickening pop. His body falling limp and silent. She sags, panting harshly, letting her cheek rest against the cool tile of the floor. Her hands throbbed, burned and bloodied from the rope, but she was alive, blessedly alive.

Which could not be said for the guard.

She shoots up, flinging the chord viciously from her hands and stares at him. He's dead alright, head cranked at an unnatural angle, dead eyes bulging and painted red from broken vessels. His neck painted in varying shades of red and purple.

It makes her stomach churn.

She stares at the body, her memory carving his corpse into the inside of her skull. It’s not that she hadn't seen a dead body before, she's seen plenty. She's just…never been the direct result of a dead body. The words Do No Harm, echoes in her brain.

“Zaya”

She flinches, eyes bouncing to Nikolai who watches her carefully. “Fetch me his knife” he instructs, and his voice is soft, surprisingly gentle given the situation. She follows, moving on autopilot to flip the thug over and snag the knife from his belt.

She stumbles toward him. Clumsy like a newborn foal as she cuts the zip ties from his wrists with trembling fingers. Vehemently ignoring looking at the dead man on the floor.

Nikolai makes a little relieved sound, rubbing his aching wrists as she circles back around. He carefully tugs the knife from her hands, never taking his eyes off of her as he slides it against his belt.

“Good job” he murmurs, hooking a hand a bit to roughly against her shoulder. Shaking her from her thoughts again. The poor man looks rough, they both do. Thankfully it’s something she thinks a few stitches and a bath couldn't fix. But something else occurs to her.

“You speak english.” she deadpans, staring at him with exhausted eyes, and this mad bastard has the gall to let out a small wet laugh.

“Very observant” he chuckles, patting her shoulder moving across the room on stiff legs. He plucks a handgun from the desk drawer and checks the magazine. Satisfied , he slides it into his belt, bending again to pick up the guard’s fallen handgun making the same check. He eyes her with a raised brow.

“Can I trust you with this?”

She swallows hard, nods. It’s been a while, but she knows how to use it.

He approaches, quickly going over the safety, how to clear it, before pushing it into her hand. His warm palm slides over the metal, gripping her wrist securely. He folds his chin to his chest, looking into her eyes. Holding her attention.

“Stay close to me, keep your hand off the trigger, we will survive.”

“Da” she repeats, preening just a bit as he smiles at her.

#I'm having a grand time with this #their just silly your honor #until you kill a man #nikolai cod #chubby oc #nikolai x foc #nikolai/foc #nikolai x original character #call of duty #lies and alibis #wildcraft writes #nikolai x oc #nikolai x reader

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tumbleweed-writes · 5 months

Text

Deserving: Chibs Telford X Reader

Y/N was horrified. She couldn’t believe Jax was not out there searching high and low for her boyfriend.

The night had been long and so filled with dread.

It had all started out so normally. Nero, Lyla and Y/N had been the only ones working up at Diosa. Y/N had been training Lyla on some of the facets of her job at the companion service. Lyla was interested in coming to work for Diosa, helping Nero manage the girls and the office.

Y/N was thankful for the possible new hire. She’d been doing this on her own for a while now, and it was so time consuming that it was not even funny.

Nero’s sister Carla was not always the most helpful. She usually favored managing the girls and was less interested in helping with any clerical work.

That responsibility always fell on Y/N.

When Frankie Diamonds had shown up the energy in the room had shifted.

When the gun had come out it had been clear that Nero, Lyla, and Y/N were in danger.

Jax, Bobby, and Chibs had no idea what they were walking into.

Nero had been tied up. Frankie had taped her wrists and ankles together too tightly bound against the sofa.

Y/N stared up at Chibs, the bile rising in her stomach, she resisted the urge to attempt to yank from her bonds and run to him for protection. Frankie currently had a gun tucked into Lyla’s mouth and his hand on the trigger.

He’d pointed the gun in Y/N’s direction more than once over hte past hour. She felt sick thinking that he could easily pull the trigger and end them all at any moment.

Y/N feared any sudden movement from her would spook the man enough that he’d do just that. He seemed panicked and unpredictable. She feared just what he was capable of.

He’d forced Nero to call the Sons and Y/N feared what he wanted with them.

She watched helplessly as Frankie screamed out orders. “Guns and knives, drop them to the floor. Now.”

Jax spoke tying to remain calm. “Okay. We’re doing it.”

Jax spoke again holdling his hands out to Frankie. “Listen, they have nothing to do with this…”

Frankie spoke interrupting him. “Shut up and get down on your knees. Put your hands behind your heads.”

Bobby dared to speak stepping forward slightly. “What the hell is this?”

Frankie spoke his voice harsh. “What do you think? I want money. The cartel cash I know you got it in a safe in the chapel”

Jax spoke as Chibs, Bobby, and he did as they were ordered. “We aint a bank. Drug money comes from the Mayans, cash goes straight to the Irish.”

Frankie scoffed digging the gun further into Lyla’s mouth. “I don’t give a shit where you get it. I want $200 grand or I’ll kill Ope’s whore…I won’t stop with her either. I’ll kill Chibs’ whore while I’m at it, kill two whores with one gun.”

Y/N cringed at the statement she not missing the look Chibs sent her he attempting to be reassuring without saying the words.

Nero spoke a sigh leaving him “I got it. In my studio. There’s about 130 grand cash, a couple of gold watches. You want that?”

Frankie shifted his eyes from Nero to Jax as Nero spoke again his voice demanding. “Take that gun out of her mouth, okay.”

Frankie at least did what he was told nodding to Bobby. “Elvis move that fat ass. Go get it, move.”

He held the gun out waving it from Nero to Y/N. “You try anything I’ll kill them both.”

Nero spoke quickly rattling off the combination to the safe and its location.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek unwilling to let herself cry fear crushing down on her. She kept her eyes locked on Chibs trying to keep her focus only on him. He was the only thing keeping her from falling apart at the moment. She let out a shaky breath the tape digging into her wrists sharply the pain intense.

Y/N tore her eyes from Chibs as she watched as Bobby. The older biker backed out the room going to get the money and watches Frankie was demanding.

Jax spoke quick to challenge Frankie. “How do you think this ends Frankie?”

Frankie shook his head his gun turning to point directly at Y/N as he thought about the statement. “This wasn’t my idea. Clay promised us shit he couldn’t deliver.”

Jax replied ot the comment. “You’re telling me Clay was behind the break ins.”

Frankie shook his head he fast to respond. “Come on Jax. You know he’d do anything to get the gavel back and his cash points.”

Jax spoke up his voice holding a dangerous edge. “He sign off on you going after me and my family?”

Frankie pulled the gun from Y/N pointing it at Jax. “I never went after your family.”

Jax was fast to respond his words harsh. “Someone went after my family. Someone went after Gemma and my kids last night.”

Frankie scoffed at the statement he tilting his chin up. “And why the hell would I do that?”

Chibs spoke up his words defiant despite the situation. “Because you’re a greasy scumbag animal.”

The comment earned Frankie pointing a gun at Chibs’ direction before he pointed the gun back at Y/N. “You want to try that again Chibby? We both know you’re sweet on this little whore. It’d be a shame to splatter her brains all over the wall just because you have a big fucking mouth.”

"I swear to God, if ye fuckin touch a hair on her..." Chibs spat out not getting to finish the threat as Frankie spoke.

"Shut up, I have the gun. I'm in charge. You always have something to say. It's about time you shut that damn mouth."

Bobby reentred the room he holding up a baggie containing the money and watches. “Hey, hey, hey.”

Frankie pulled the gun from Y/N’s direction using it to motion down to the coffee table. “On the table.”

He pointed the gun at Bobby as soon as the bag was dropped on the table. “Get back on your knees.”

Frankie spoke nodding to Nero. “Is that your truck out back?”

Nero barely had a chance to give the affirmative as Frankie spoke again. Shoving Lyla over to Nero. “Get his keys.”

He kept the gun trained on the three Sons as he leaned down reaching for the money.

Y/N felt her blood run cold when Frankie motioned to Chibs. “Get up Scotty.”

When Chibs hesitated Frankie pointed the gun back at Y/N. “Get up. Remember what I said about her brains and the wall.”

Chibs did as he was told Jax standing as well trying to reason with Frankie all three men speaking at once Chibs speaking loud enough reassuring Jax to keep calm.

Y/N pulled against her bonds as Chibs shot her a look reassuring her. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Love.”

She felt her blood run cold as Frankie tossed Nero’s truck keys at Chibs. “You’re driving. Let’s go.”

Y/N dared to speak as Frankie pulled the gun from her pointing it at Chibs. “Filip, no...”

Chibs spoke before she had a chance to continue. “It’s goin to be okay, Mo leannan. It’ll be okay.”

Frankie pressed a gun to the back of Chibs’ head as he spoke the threat spilling from him. “Any of you come after me, I’ll kill him.”

Jax spoke his words tense. “You’re making a mistake.”

Frankie reacted by pulling the gun away just long enough to shoot Lyla in the upper thigh the action creating enough chaos for him to shove Chibs forward both men leaving the room.

Y/N struggled at her bonds, everything in her screaming as she watched helplessly as the man she loved was dragged away at gunpoint during all the chaos.

Y/N felt like the walls were shutting in on her. She scratched at the tape digging her nails into her skin trying so hard to escape and failing miserably.

She felt a chill run down her spine at the promise to kill Chibs if they were to go after Frankie. He was going to die wasn't he? Who was to say Frankie wouldn't kill him either way? The man she loved was going to die and she couldn't do a damn thing about it.

The chaos continued Bobby freeing both Y/N and Nero from their bonds as promises were made by Nero to call a client of Disoa who happened to be a doctor to patch up Lyla.

Y/N stared up at Jax, her words frantic. “We have to go after him. We have to go get him. He's going to die, Jax. We need to go get him.”

Jax parted his lips to speak but remained silent, the act filing her with rage. She spoke hitting the Sons President’s chest hard beating at him with her fists weakly tears spilling from her eyes her voice cracking. “You’re a fucking coward. You’re just going to do nothing? He would die for you and you're going to leave him to fend for himself. You're a fucking coward. How can you be so weak?”

She glared up at Nero as he pulled her from Jax and spoke his words reassuring. “He’s a tough bastard, Sweetheart. You’ve gotta trust it’ll be alright.”

Y/N felt the tears begin to fall harder sobs spilling from her as she plead for someone to please go get Chibs. She was unable to do anything other than break down.

She didn’t believe Chibs would be alright. None of this felt alright.

She felt like the walking dead as Nero drove her car to her apartment. He’d tried to coax her into spending her night at Diosa but she wanted no part of it.

So, he’d offered to drive her car and borrow it to get back to Diosa. He’d told her to remain at home tomorrow as though she would have the energy to come in to work the next day.

She glared up at Nero, her voice harsh as they stood at her front step. “If Filip dies, I will never forgive any of you. I hate all of you.”

“I know you’re hurting right now. I also know you don’t mean that.” Nero replied, cringing at the statement that had left her lips.

He sighed leaning in pressing a kiss to her temple, the act resembling something almost paternal. “He will be okay. I might not have been too thrilled that the Scottish bastard was sniffing around you at first. I will admit that he’s a tough bastard though. You’ll see.”

Y/N scoffed at the comment she fast to speak as she entered her apartment. “I don’t think bullets give a shit how tough he is.”

And with that she slammed the door in Nero’s face, surprisingly not ashamed to be so cold to the man who she adored and credited with saving her life.

She stood in her apartment feeling lost and utterly horrified.

She found a bottle of vodka in her upper cabinet opening it and drinking straight from the bottle, not caring for a glass at this moment.

She allowed her mind to reflect on the Scotsman she loved; a man who she might never see again.

When Nero had begun his working relationship with SAMCRO, Y/N had been suspicious. She did not think anyone could possibly blame her for being wary of the MC. Afterall, she’d first met three members of SAMCRO when they’d been using Diosa to hide out from the local police department who was trying to scoop them up on a murder charge.

That alone had been enough to make her question her boss and long time paternal figure’s apparent choice to tie himself to SAMCRO.

She knew of course that the MC had only found their way to Nero’s front steps due to the woman he’d apparently taken a liking to.

Gemma Teller had been a one night stand who had turned into something more for Nero. She had seemed to bring trouble along with her much to Y/N’s frustration and dread.

Y/N had not known what to make of the woman. She seemed intense to say the least…intense, secretive, and calculating.

Y/N had not been the only one who had some serious reservations about Gemma and SAMCRO.

Nero’s sister Carla had not been happy about Gemma’s new found place in Nero’s life nor the outlaw bikers who had come along with her.

Y/N suspected that Carla and Gemma were just simply too alike to ever dare to coexist; though the thought of the two being so alike was worrisome given the very different type of relationships they seemed to have with Nero.

Y/N knew enough and had been around long enough to know to tread lightly with Nero’s sister. Gemma seemed less inclined to tread carefully despite Nero’s frustration. Nero loved his sister, no matter how much of a pain Carla could be…no matter how disturbingly possessive Carla could be.

Y/N did not always see eye-to-eye with Carla, but she had to agree that Carla was right to question Nero’s choice to allow not only Gemma but SAMCRO to infiltrate their world.

Y/N’s worry had only grown when Nero had accepted a business deal with Jax which had turned into a business deal with SAMCRO.

Having girls from Cara Cara make appearances at Diosa and offer services to clientele had been a smart business move…but Y/N had remained wary of SAMCRO.

SAMCRO’s newfound partnership with Diosa meant that the MC had become prone to making visits to Diosa.

Y/N had found that she saw the Sons far more often than she’d prefer.

She hated to admit that she’d grown fond of a few of them…Tig for instance could be amusing in a sort of perverted mischievous sense of the word…Happy seemed intense, but he had been far calmer and more respectful than some of Diosa’s clientele. Juice had seemed quiet and she’d honestly sensed a hint of sorrow from him that she could not entirely pinpoint the source of. Bobby was talkative and usually in good spirits. He was always happy to talk about baking and music with Y/N once they’d found out they shared the common interest.

Jax only came to discuss business with Nero and Y/N hated to admit that he still made her feel suspicious though he’d been polite to her and willing to help Nero out here and there. She’d held the criticism in due to Jax’s willingness to work with Nero on a few favors.

It was the man who usually accompanied Jax that made Y/N feel the most conflicted.

Chibs Telford was an odd one.

His brothers had been perfectly delighted to take advantage of the services the escorts at Diosa offered. They got discounted rates due their partnership with Nero, and Y/N had to think they were taking far too full advantage of those discounted rates.

Chibs had seemed uninterested in the services offered at Diosa though. He might hit up the bar and have a fat glass of expensive scotch, but she did not see him take up any offers of the massages offered by Diosa’s attractive female employees.

Y/N could admit she’d found herself observing the Scotsman far more than she would ever openly admit.

She’d noticed that he always arrived with Jax and he usually always seemed to be watching over the man. If Jax went to chat with Nero; Chibs was close by.

She spotted the kutte Chibs wore and patch worn on Chibs’ right side: SGT AT ARMS.

She knew nothing of what the title meant, but by her observations she’d assumed that perhaps the patch signified that Chibs had the duty of playing bodyguard to Jax Teller which would explain why he always looked as though he had an eye out for possible threats.

Much to her shock and annoyance Chibs had seemed to take notice of Y/N as well.

She could admit she’d been annoyed the first time he had made it clear that he had very much taken notice of her.

He had pulled up a desk chair and sat by her side at the front desk interrupting her work to speak. “Ye always look serious. Ye always got the slightest frown on yer face, like yer mad at the monitor yer starin at.”

She’d raised a well manicured brow at the comment, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. “How else am I supposed to look when I’m working? Maybe I’m frowning because I have a lot of work to do.”

“Aye, fair point…and what are ye workin on at the moment?” Chibs dared to ask, taking a slow sip from the glass of scotch he’d been holding leaning in far too close to her.

She’d ignored the realization that he actually smelled kind of pleasant; leather, cigarettes, the slight hint of the scotch he was drinking, a rich woodsy smell that she was sure might be cedar, and a hint of citrus.

She shrugged her shoulders hoping her avoidance of even glancing his way would deter him from continuing this conversation. “Schedules. Have to keep everyone’s appointments and availability on track.”

“So, ye jus do reception work here? I never see ye away from this desk.” Chibs dared to ask, still remaining far too close to her for her sanity.

The words left her lips sounding harsher than she meant for them to be as she practically snapped at him. “I don’t play the companion game, not anymore. That part of me is not for sale, not to anyone…not even you. So, don’t even ask for me.”

She took a deep breath taking notice of the fact that Chibs jerked away from her just the slightest the edge behind her voice taking him off guard.

He spoke after a moment of silence, seeming to find the right words. “I wasn’ askin fer yer services, Love. Jus’ feelin bored waitin on Jackie Boy to get done talkin with Nero. Thought I’d find conversation with someone who wasn’t lookin to make a buck off me.”

She cleared her throat at the comment the pet name love making her heart do a strange flutter that she was certain she did not approve of. “You aren’t looking for a good time with one of our girls? I heard Uma does a peppermint blowjob.”

He smirked at the comment he quick to reply. “Not interested, tend to like my mint blowjobs in a non-transactional setting.”

He paused clearing his throat. “Not that I’m a cheap bastard, jus’ not interested in gettin my dick wet fer a price. Doesn’ seem like it’d satisfy me when it's all said and done.”

“Even for the discounted rate Nero’s been giving you boys? Pretty sure your friends are taking full advantage of that perk. I do the books and have noticed just how many services your brothers are booking.” Y/N dared to ask, hating to admit that this conversation was interesting to her.

She rarely met men who would not trip over themselves to get laid by a high class companion. The fact that Chibs was not tempted by the availability of the services offered at Diosa intrigued her.

Chibs took a long sip of his scotch, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. “Nah, not my thing. The lads are enjoyin that perk a wee bit too much. Can’t say we’re a crowd that practices abstaining from indulgence though, Love.”

She parted her lips to respond to the comment but had not the chance as Jax reappeared from Nero’s office nodding to Chibs. “We gotta go, man.”

Chibs gave her a smile that read as far too flirty and confident for her liking as he spoke to her. “I’ll see ye round, Lass.”

She hated to admit that she was looking forward to seeing him around.

The visits after that had continued with the same pattern; Chibs sat at her desk insisting he was looking for conversation.

She’d been surprised to find that the conversation had come easily. It was unexpected given her past. She’d not always found that talking with men was something that she felt completely at ease with. Chibs was easy to feel at ease with.

The change in the odd friendship they’d developed had come when she’d gotten a flat tire. Chibs had just so happened to be around at the time and had insisted that her car would be towed by TM Auto and that he would personally provide her with a ride home.

Along with the ride home had been an offer for dinner at a nearby diner and despite her kneejerk reaction to tell him no, she’d accepted the dinner offer.

She’d been stunned as she’d opened up to him the words falling from her lips between slow bites of the fries she’d been eating.

“Nero found me almost eight years ago. I got picked up with one of his girls. I’d been in the game since I was barely eighteen…long story short I was young and naive enough not to see the red flags when the charming boyfriend I had acquired turned out to be a less charming pimp. I came from the foster system…my parents were not around and I had no real family…so, it was easy to fall into the life. At the time I figured my boyfriend was all I had and this was a chance to make money…even though it was not something I enjoyed. Things were violent and volatile at best. My boyfriend didn’t quite take care to really screen the guys he set me up with. I’m amazed I survived it all. I was involved with that path for a couple of years. I was barely twenty one when I got arrested and met Nero. The girl I got picked up with, Nero’s girl, she talked praises about her boss and insisted he was different from most of the guys running girls in Northern Cali. She talked about this companion business he’d started up…she talked about how he didn’t put his girls on the street, he set em up in much nicer digs, made them feel like they had control over their work. She was only out at that shit hotel with me because Nero couldn’t stop his girls from doing independent work…he was not amused by her independent work to say the least. When Nero showed up to bail her out, he also bailed me out.”

She paused, her stomach turning avoiding Chibs’ gaze. She felt a sense of anxiety wash over her; she was not entirely inclined to share the story with many people. “He got me talking, I opened up to him about how things had been for me…I was surprised he seemed upset by my experiences thus far. He explained to me that what had been happening to me was unacceptable…that it didn’t have to be like that. I, uh, I kind of fell apart on him. I admitted I wanted out. I was exhausted but too weak and scared shitless to get out on my own. I never wanted to be in the life to begin with. I still don’t know why, but he found use for me. He realized I was smart enough to not only do books for Diosa but to manage the administrative work he didn’t care to deal with. He encouraged me to find my own path. He promised me I didn’t have to sell myself and he kept that promise. He’s looked out for me, taken me under his wing. He feels more like family at this point. I like working for him; I’m thankful he still found use for me outside of companion work. I have zero interest in reentering that line of work ever again. I don’t care how desperate I get in my life…I will never sell my body again. I can’t be that weak and afraid ever again.”

She’d expected Chibs to bolt from the table upon hearing this information. So, imagine her shock when his hand had slid across the table caressing hers.

She’d been dumbfounded when Chibs’ fingers had laced with hers the words leaving him. “I promise ye, ye won’ ever have to reenter that life. Ye don’ have a reason to be afraid. I’ll make sure of that.”

Y/N had been stunned to realize she believed him.

There had been a shared kiss at the end of that night and much to Y/N’s shock the kiss had remained chaste. He’d kissed her so delicately as though she was the most fragile being on the planet to him.

She was certain no one had ever kissed her that gently before in her entire life.

The real change to their relationship had come a few months after that diner conversation and their first kiss.

There had been plenty of shared soft kisses between them after that night, but they’d not gone much further.

It seemed that he’d sensed that she was a little wary of men at least when it came to experiencing that activity with men. Her past prior to Nero had left her feeling skittish and much to her relief Chibs had proven to be a patient man.

A new client to Diosa had not quite gotten the memo that Y/N was not available for any services.

Chibs had sensed something was wrong the second he’d entered Diosa and spotted the woman he had grown quite fond of.

Usually the sight of her in such a tight fitting little pink cocktail dress would have been pleasing to his senses.

The man who had seemed to have cornered her at the bar though had made the sight of her in the cocktail dress seem less alluring.

The man was wearing a fine suit and was quite young looking. He was probably close to Y/N’s age. It was clear by the rolex watch on his wrist that he had money to spare.

Chibs had practically marched over to the bar glaring down at the man who had cornered Y/N. He spoke nodding to her. “Ye okay, Lass?”

She parted her lips to speak but the man who had been just moments before harassing her turned his icy blue eyes up a Chibs a scoff leaving him “I was here first.”

Chibs glared down at him a bit astounded by the somewhat childish remark. “I wasn’ talkin to ye.”

The man didn’t sense the obvious aura of danger radiating off of Chibs because he spoke rolling his eyes. “Listen, Scotty, I approached her first. There’s plenty of whores around here to service you. Though by the looks of you, I don’t think you can afford it. This bitch is driving up a hard bargain. She keeps saying she's not for sale, but why the hell else is she here?”

“Ye watch yer fuckin mouth and leave her alone or I'm goin to beat yer face into this bar. She aint a companion.” Chibs snapped his hands clinching he trying to resist throwing the first punch.

The man let out an unamused chuckle at this. “You’re really threatening me over a whore? This some kind of white knight routine? Trust me man, she doesn’t need your protection.”

He paused a cruel smirk crossing his lips. “When I’m done with this pussy you can have it”

Chibs saw red reaching out at the words his hand pressing to the back of the man’s head. He slammed the man’s head down into the bar a sickening crack sounding out as the man’s nose was bent at an odd angle blood pooling from his nose.

He glared up at Chibs as he recovered from the shock. “You Son of a Bitch.”

He charged at Chibs not making it far as Chibs reacted by raising his fist delivering a harsh blow right square in the man’s clearly broken nose.

The man howled out in pain he folding over clutching his nose the cartilage shattered.

Nero chose this moment to finally make his way out of the back office dumbfounded by the sight.

“What the hell is goin on here?”

Chibs spoke his voice harsh the words spilling form him. “I’m protectin my lass. Somethin ye shoulda been doin? Ye lettin slimy pricks in here and lettin em harass yer receptionist.”

Nero stared down at Y/N her voice soft she was a bit overwhelmed by the entire exchange she’d had with the man before Chibs had arrived. To be honest she'd found herself frozen in place until Chibs had arrived. The man who had been harassing her was all too like the men who she used to have to service back before she'd met Nero. Being around a man like that left her filled with dread to the point where she remained frozen in place unable to act or think.

“He kept trying to get me to tell him how much I wanted for my services. Kept waving the menu at me demanding I tell him how much he could get for each service from me. I tried to tell him I don’t do that…I tried to tell him I just work at the front desk. I just came to the bar to get ice for my drink. He told me I was lying, trying to get a bigger paycheck for my services. He kept throwing out prices at me and I kept telling him no, but he wasn’t listening.”

Chibs stepped aside stepping around the still pained man his hand reaching out to gently caress Y/N’s side his voice reassuring. “Ye told him no, Love. that shoulda been the only answer he needed.

She let out a shaky breath allowing him to embrace her she clinging to him tightly.

She took a deep breath daring to glance up at Nero though she did not pull from Chibs’ embrace. “Filip was just trying to look out for me. He saw I was afraid.”

Nero sighed running a hand along his face as he glanced at the still pain struck client. “Shit, I’ll take care of him.”

Chibs glared down at the man his voice harsh. “If he shows his face round her again, I’ll fuckin break somethin more painful than a nose.”

Nero held his hands up shaking his head. “No need to throw out threats. I said I’m going to take care of it.”

Y/N sighed pulling from Chibs her eyes spotting the dried blood caked across his knuckles. “Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up.”

She didn’t speak again until she was pressing a soft damp cloth to Chibs knuckles her voice soft. “I just hope he doesn’t report us. I don’t want to be the reason for a damn raid.”

“Nero will take care of it, Lass.” Chibs reassured her hating that she seemed to be blaming herself for any outcome that might come of this.

She sighed shaking her head shame washing over her. “You didn’t have to hit him.”

“Aye, I did.” Chibs remarked furrowing his brow dumbfounded by the comment. What did she mean he didn't have to hit him? As though he should have stood by and let him harass her?

She sighed again a tight pained smile crossing her features. “He didn’t lie…I’m a whore, or I used to be…I mean, I work in the company of them. So, I might as well be one. So, he didn’t lie.”

Chibs was fast to speak his hand reaching out to press to her cheek the words certain. “Ye hated doin that line of work, Love. I ain't goin to sit back and let some prick call ye that word when I know it's a word that fills ye with nothin but pain. I know yer past filled ye with so much sorrow. Ye work so hard fer Nero and yer proud of the work ye do here. Ye keep this place runnin fer him. Yer more than what ye use to do almost a decade ago. Ye don’ do that type of work anymore. Ye told me ye’d never sell yer body again. I aint lettin anyone treat ye like ye can be bought. I know ye only wanna give that part of yerself to someone who deserves it. It can't be bought. I ain' lettin' anyone treat ye like ye can be bought or disrespect ye in any way shape or form. I’m goin to protect ye.”

She felt the tears fall at the words she leaning up pressing her lips to his, the kiss growing deep.

She managed to speak her hands taking his as she lead him from the small kitchen area in the back rooms of Diosa towards one of the “therapy rooms” her voice soft. “I want you to show me, Filip. Show me how much you deserve that part of me.”

He moaned at the request fully content to give her exactly what she was asking for.

Y/N felt tears leak from the corners of her eyes at the memories. She could remember that night that she’d taken him back to the rooms usually used by the companions and demanded he show her that he deserved her body.

He’d shown her that he deserved her ten-fold.

He’d made love to her that night; it was something she’d never experienced before in her life. It was an experience she’d had many nights since then. Each time took her breath away. Each time she was reminded of how much she adored Chibs Telford.

He loved her. Though he’d not said the words yet out loud. She was certain of it.

She felt a sob escape her the fear she might never experience his love ever again washing over her.

She did not want to live in a world where his love was not in her grasp.

—---------------------------

The firm knock awoke her, rousing her from sleep. She cringed at the massive hangover that felt as though it was tap dancing on her brain.

She groaned, her mouth feeling sticky, a terrible taste on her tongue.

She felt bile rise in her throat, she shoving it down refusing to vomit.

She stared up at the ceiling in taking her a long while to gather the energy to get up from her sofa.

She glared at the vodka bottle on the coffee table as though it was solely responsible for all of life’s problems.

She stood up her feet padding across the carpet as she spoke her voice tense. “Keep your damn pants on, I’m coming.”

She peered through the peep hole to her apartment, the sight of her visitor making tears leak from her eyes before she could stop them.

She flung the door open, she practically falling into his arms full sobs leaving her.

Chibs held her against him allowing her to fall apart against him shaking sobs leaving her. He ran a hand up and down her back whispering soothing words to her.

She finally pulled back from him just enough to speak. “Are you real?”

He snorted at the comment, taking him off guard. “I think so.”

She let out a shaky breath fast to speak a million questions dancing through her head. “How did you get away?”

“Fuckin prick glocked me in the back of the head with the butt of his gun. Had me down on me knees in the middle of fuckin nowhere. I thought he was goin to execute me righ then and there, but someone started hokin their horn…he had a ride come fer him. He was on the damn cell all the entire time talkin to someone…Clay maybe, I don’ know. I guess he decided catchin his ride was more important than killin me.” Chibs explained a chill running down her spine.

He ran a hand up and down her back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I’m okay, all in one piece.”

She stared up at him, her brow furrowing. “How’d you get here?”

“Fuckin trucker found me lyin in a pool of my own blood. Took me to the ER to get stitched up. Told em I picked up a hitchhiker in Nero’s truck and the bastard robbed me. Gave a vague description of my hitchhiker. It’s fine.” He reassured her not shocked by the small frown that crossed her features at his insistence that it was fine.

She spoke not caring if she was possibly risking smothering him. “Let me see.”

He sighed leaning down parting his hair just enough to let her see the stitches on the back of his head.

She spoke her voice small. “Jesus, Filip.”

“I’m okay. I promise.” He reassured her, straightening back up keeping the reminder of what had happened to him out of her gaze.

She shook her head her voice soft. “Your head tells a different story.”

“Aye, I know. I’m hardheaded though luckily enough. So, I’m gonna fare well.” He insisted his arms wrapping back around her, holding her close.

She spoke, sinking against his hold, needing to say the words. “You could have died, Filip.”

“Aye, I know. I know, Love. I could die everyday. It’s the life I chose.” He insisted, hating that the words could not bring her comfort though they were the truth. It was a harsh reality that he could not hide from.

She spoke her eyes watering needing to say the words though she’d never worked up the nerve to say them. “You could have died and I would have not had the chance to tell you that I love you.”

Chibs felt the breath leave his body at the statement. He allowed it to wash over him, the realization that she loved him making him feel warm and secure.

He spoke the words leaving him without fear. “When the slimy bastard had me down on my knees…when I thought I was done fer. I thought bout a lot of shite, my daughter, the club, my brothers, the choices I made…apologies fer all the shite I’ve done and all I’ve failed to do. I thought of ye too…thanked the lord fer bringin ye into my life…said my thanks fer lettin me have ye. Prayed ye’d be okay without me.”

“I wouldn’t be okay without you. I was so scared, Filip. I was certain you’d die. I was so mad at Jax that he wouldn't go after you. I told Nero that I would never forgive him if you died.” She exclaimed, soaking up his words he pressing a kiss to her temple, whispering soft reassurances that he was okay.

He placed a hand against her cheek, the words leaving him. “I love ye. I wish it hadn’t taken me getting smacked over the head with a gun by a greasy prick fer me to have the nerve to say the words.”

He pressed his lips to hers, the kiss brief before he spoke again. “I love ye Mo leannan. I promise ye that. Ye got no reason to be afraid with me, I got ye.”

She clung to him the words leaving her, she was certain of them. “That goes both ways Filip. You have no reason to be afraid with me either. I have you too.”

He held on to her so tight that it almost hurt he whispered soft words to her, the words intelligible between kisses to her skin.

She closed her eyes, soaking up the kisses and the promises behind them.

She might have been wary of the Scotsman when Nero had first brought SAMCRO into her world.

Y/N knew though that Filip Chibs Telford was her world. She had never known love before him. She would do whatever it took to give him that love in return.

She knew that he not only deserved her body, but her heart as well. She could not think of anyone else who would be more deserving of her heart than Chibs Telford.

#chibs telford #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs telford x reader #sons of anarchy fanfiction

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asshlyyyy · 1 year

Text

A Night To Forget

Fic Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+ Only! Swearing, murder, killing, gun use, blood, the colonel. Reader gets injured, and attacked. Yelling, fighting, violence. Glass breaking and ending up cutting reader. Elvis covering up a murder. A/N: Reader is Steve Binder's sister, Priscilla doesn't exist.

Masterlist

The room was dark and silent. The lights of Las Vegas glowed behind the windows. Your body shook as beads of sweat fell off your face. Your chest heeded as you breathed heavily. Your hand went limp and the piece of metal fell onto the floor with a clank! You took a step back and watched as blood poured onto the floor. You felt as if you were in a movie, and this was all fake.

You heard the jiggle of a doorknob and immediately turned your head towards the sound. You stood like a deer in headlights unable to move. You were about to get caught. This was the end of your life. You were about to get thrown in jail to rot forever.

The door creaked open and the appearance of your boyfriend. You stood in fear as Elvis met your eyes. Confused, he made his way over to you after he closed the door. He came to a pause when he saw the scene in front of him. The body of his manager was lifeless on the floor. He should be sad, but he felt happiness. He felt this weight get lifted off of him.

“Well, it’s ‘bout time,” Elvis claimed as he shut the door behind him. You stood there confused by his reaction. He stepped closer to you and moved around your body. He found his gun on the floor. There was no shot though, he would’ve heard it if so. Then again, all he heard was his band and the sounds of his fans screaming.

He reached down and held the metal piece in his hand. It was warm from your clench and covered with blood. He looked at the Colonel and noticed his disheveled face. You had beaten his face, but there was also a hole in his neck where blood seethed out. Had you actually shot the Colonel?

Elvis turned and looked at your perfect face. Your once-white dress had splatters of blood over it. His innocent good girl just killed someone. Your face was pale, and he knew you were scared. He wouldn’t let his girl get in trouble. No no, Elvis would make sure no one would know.

“I-I’m sorry,” you breathed out. Elvis shook his head. There was no reason why you should be sorry. The colonel was a bad man, and he needed to go. You hadn’t planned for things to happen like that… but they did.

It really all started when Elvis came back from the army. You didn’t know him personally at the time, but when you met him, you knew he wasn’t happy. You sat in your older brother’s office as he walked through the door. He stood tall and had this… handsome appearance to him. He was always handsome though.

It was all funny looking back at it. Your brother didn’t even like Elvis. He was more of an East Coast boy. He liked the sounds of the beach boys. Elvis didn’t even pass his mind, but the sound of meeting Elvis. That was what intrigued him.

“Mr. Elvis Presley,” Steve stood up from his seat. You stood up quickly with a smile.

“Please, just Elvis,” Elvis held his hand out to Steve, who gladly took it. The two shook hands and he looked over at you. He held a smile on his face and reached for your hand. You placed it in his and watched as he brought it to his lips and kissed it. You blushed lightly at the gesture and bit the inside of your cheek.

“Right, Elvis. It’s an honor to meet you.” Steve said as he sat down down. He picked up his pen and situated himself. Elvis sat on the other end and looked at the Binder siblings. He had a good feeling about this.

“Let me ask ya something, Steve. Where do you think my career is right now?” Elvis questioned. You looked over at Steve and nodded. You knew it was risky, to be honest, hell he could fire you both right there.

“Well, I think it’s in the toilet.” The room fell silent and you could only imagine how he felt. Then the sound of laughter came of out Elvis’ mouth. You smiled softly and stifled out a soft sound of laughter also.

“I knew I was gonna like ya. You’re honest with me,” Elvis admitted once his laughs calmed down to a slow. “I haven’ been on television for a long time.”

“It’s no different than filming a movie, sir.” You spoke as you stood up. “We will practice, and if you make a mistake that’s okay. We can start the film over. Delete those takes that don’t make it. This is your special, Elvis.”

“What’s ya name dalrin’?” He asked as his blue orbs stared deep past your own.

“Y/n,” You answered him.

“Well, I like the sound of that, Y/n. My special, no one elses.” He smirked as he tapped his finger against the table.

“We’ll give you what you want. She is right, this is your special.” Elvis smiled and nodded slowly.

The three of you were inseparable. Elvis took trusting to you two like it was nothing else. It was because you two could give him something the Colonel couldn’t. The Colonel didn’t care about anything. All he cared about was the money.

Didn’t allow anyone into Elvis’ dressing room. Yet, your brother and your brother pushed. He really pushed the Colonel’s buttons. Those who met the Colonel all had the same opinions. Sure, he could be sweet and pleasant, but he could also be harsh and rude. Lord knows you also don’t want to be on his bad side.

You guys would start in the afternoon and you would be there till early in the morning. There have been moments when Elvis would offer you to stay in his dressing room. Since, during the time of the comeback special, he slept in his dressing room. At first, you declined since you didn’t leave too far, but Elvis had such a charm to him.

“Come on, doll,” Elvis chuckled lightly, “it’ll be fun.”

“Oh please,” you rolled your eyes and laughed gently. “My apartment is just a half-hour walk.”

“Ain’ safe for you to be walking alone at night. Don’t need anything happening to ya now.” You let out a breath and just shook your head. A smile grew on your face and Elvis couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Fine fine, I’ll stay.” You laughed gently and walked with him. Not much happened in that room. You guys mostly just talked and shared a laugh. To you, he wasn’t the king of rock and roll. He… he was Elvis. It felt as if you guys have been friends for years.

If anyone came up to you and asked what Elvis was like… You would tell them he was the sweetest man ever. Sure, he had his outbursts but so did everyone. Elvis was a nice man, and he would do everything in his nature to make sure his friends and family were okay.

You couldn’t understand why the Colonel would treat him like a child. Elvis would be more than happy agreeing with his manager and treating them well. Yet, the Colonel abused him. Sometimes when you just stand in the background. You noticed his body language when he was alone… and when he was with the Colonel.

When he was with the Colonel he had this stiff expression. He was locked up in this gate, trapped under his watchful eye. When he was by himself, he held a depressed example. It was like he was lost in some aspects. Now, when he was with his friends and family… he was so happy. He smiled and he laughed a genuine laugh.

You remember your brother getting called down to the Colonel’s office. It was a sad piece really, one of the broom closets near stage four. The Colonel demanded for at least one Christmas song. Well, it was more he tried to tell Steve that Elvis wanted the Christmas song. Elvis stood next to him with his head down. It was like a young child who had just gotten in trouble with their parents.

“Fuck him,” Elvis spoke to Steve once they got out. Elvis hated the Colonel, but he couldn’t do anything. He was trapped. He was locked behind this wall of gratitude for everything Parker gave him. There was nothing more he could do.

You remember when everything was all finished, and you guys were ready to show the screening. The Binder siblings were pulled into a meeting with the Colonel. It was a room with a large table. The way that room smelled… It smelt like smoke and testosterone.

The Colonel wanted his one Christmas song. He wanted it to be at the end of the Special. Of course, your brother and you went a separate way. You thought you guys were screwed though, because… You could have gotten sued right there and then. Then you two remembered then Elvis did perform a song.

“Blue Christmas,” you said as you looked at Steve.

“That’s right, he did sing Blue Christmas,” Steve held a smirk. You could’ve sworn you saw the Colonel’s eye twitch at the response. That was not what he wanted to hear. The Colonel wanted a whole scene dedicated to Christmas.

The screening was the last day you all pretty much spent together. You remember sitting in the room next to Steve. Elvis’s Memphis Mafia was in the room and it was just silent the whole showing. You helped Elvis during the whole filing. Steve mostly stayed up in the booth, you were down on set.

You were at the stage, and neither you nor Steve knew what he was going to do, or what he was going to sing. You guys just allowed him to do whatever he wanted. He had his friends next to him, and it was just a jam session. You smiled the whole time watching him. Watching it in person, and then watching it on screen. Your smile was wide.

Being in the room watching the whole playback and finished product was scary. You were surrounded by his friends, and sometimes his friends scared you. It was just the look they held on his face. It’s like how when you look at a certain someone they have this type of face. At some moments, Elvis had the softest face, but he also had a very… I will kill you look.

Once his friends left, he turned and looked at us and asked to watch it again. It was a completely different experience when it was just you threw. Elvis laughed, and he smiled. To Steve and yourself, this was music to your ears. It can be painful to watch something you created, but how Elvis positively reacted to it… It showed that he loved it. That he was once again enjoying his life.

Once the recording finished for the special Elvis gave you and Steve his number. He left you with something more though. A simple, yet meaningful necklace. You denied it at first of course, but he kept pushing and pushing. That’s just who he was. He was a giver and he never took no as an answer.

“I uh… I got ya something.” Elvis spoke as he came up to you. You raised your eyebrow in confusion.

“Why did you get me something?” You asked him.

“Well, your brother and you helped me so much.” He admitted. You rolled your eyes playfully and took the navy blue velvet box in your hands.

“You honestly didn't need to do-” You opened up the box and the softest gasp left your mouth. “Oh my god.” You looked at the gold necklace that held both pearls and diamonds. You just started to shake your head. You couldn’t imagine how much money this costed.

“A pretty necklace for a pretty girl,” he commented. You shook just shook your head with an idiotic smile on your face.

“Can you help me put it on?” You asked as you picked the necklace. Elvis nodded and took it out of your hand. You closed up the box and turned your back to him. You grabbed a handful of your hair and moved it out of the way.

The necklace came around your front and Elvis clamped it in the back. His fingers grazed over your exposed skin. It caused a comforting chill to run up your spine. You let your hair fall back into place and turned to look at him.

“How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” he answered instantly.

The first night Elvis performed at the International… you never saw a smile so wide. Though It was his first time performing in front of an audience this size. It was like he never left the stage. He jumped right back into the groove. He invited you and your brother, which you two gladly accepted.

When it came time, Elvis made his rounds around the room. Well, he walked through the middle part, and back up to the stage. He grabbed as many women’s faces as he could and kissed them. You didn’t find it disgusting, you found it sweet? In a weird way, it didn’t push you off as Elvis being horny. You saw it as Elvis was saying thank you. He was thanking his fans for sticking by him.

He was back to what he loved doing. He may have at one point wanted to be like James Dean. Now… he just wanted to be Elvis. He wanted to sing, he wanted to dance, he wanted to make music. While he would’ve preferred you and Steve to be at one of the tables with his other guests, you opted for being near the stage.

You were right by the stairs that would lead him back up. Your eyes met and he made his way straight towards you. His hands cupped your face and he pulled you close, crashing his lips into yours. You melted against his perfectly sculpted lips and kissed him back. You felt as if the room around you was spinning, but probably did all the other girls.

Elvis pulled away and ran his finger along the necklace he gave you. He leaned down to your ear, “Meet me in my room after the show,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to the side of your head and heading back on stage. You watched him in disbelief at what had just happened. Unbeknownst to the death glare Steve was giving Elvis.

That’s when your relationship changed with him. You had the most magical night and he asked for you to stay with him. You agreed in a heartbeat, hell anyone would have agreed. After the sex you two had though… There was something more, there was love. As much as you loved Steve and working alongside him, you wanted a break and a change. Why not give this love thing a chance? Oh boy did the Colonel not like that.

He called the influences of you and Steve hillbillies. That you two were trying to steal him away. In all honesty, you two just wanted him to do what he loved. The amount of conversations of fights you shared with the Colonel. The amount of threats you received from him… It was painful, but you just knew deep down in that fat sack of his. He was suffering and was pushing that onto other people.

“You’re dragging him down!” He yelled at you, his spit falling right onto your face. You gagged and shivered as it hit your face. You whipped your face and glared at the man in front of you.

“Funny, because last time anyone checked, you were.” You laugh coldly and shook your head.

“I am making him bigger!” He argued back. You rolled your eyes at him. Every second he got, he picked a fight with you.

“You’re not letting him do what he wants! He wants to tour the world!” You exclaimed to him. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“God, now he’s in your goddamn brain! He will never EVER go on a world tour. I will make sure of that as long as I am living!”

It was like that almost every day. So when it came to Elvis’ fifth week at the Internation, it was no surprise when the Colonel showed up at the suit. You had decided to stay in when Elvis performed his midnight show. You loved watching him perform, but you just wanted to rest up and read your book.

There was no knock, he just walked in. You looked over at him confused. “Colonel?” You stood up from the couch and placed your book on the table. “What are you doing here?” You asked as you made your way over to him.

“Getting rid of you,” he spoke in a harsh voice. You knew the Colonel never really liked you. Hell, he never really liked anyone. He always thought they were out to get him.

“I’m a bit lost,” you looked at him confused.

“Ever since you and your idiotic brother came into Elvis’ life you changed him.” He spoke in a twisted voice.

“He’s just back in his roots. Being happy again, we didn’t change him.” You corrected the Colonel.

“Oh please, you don’t know what makes my boy happy. You’re just here as his little sex toy.” Colonel tried to get under your skin. Get you all rattled up. “I suggest you get the hell out before the truth comes out about you.”

“What truth? I have nothing to hide?” In fact, you don’t even think you have any secrets. You kept honest because honesty is the best medicine. Nothing good came out of lying. Looking at the fat fuck in front of you proved you of that.

“You may think that now, but when word gets out that Elvis’ sweet innocent girlfriend killed one of his fans in anger… things may be different.” You just shook your head at his words. Why was he doing this? What was so fucked up with his brain that led him to be this way?

“Elvis wouldn’t believe that,” you shook your head. The Colonel started to walk closer to you, and you felt uncomfortable. With every step he took, you took one back. His fat cigar stood off his lips as his cane hit hard against the flooring.

“Oh, but he will. He believes everything I tell him-”

“Because you force it down his throat!” You quickly spoke interrupting him. He didn’t like that. He held this look in his eyes. It was like they turned a shade darker, almost black in fact. You were so focused on his eyes that you didn’t notice when he lifted the cane and hit you with it. The top of his cane hit into your hip causing pain to erupt. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it wasn’t pleasant.

“Ow! What the fuck is your problem!?” You grabbed onto the golden alcohol cart as you almost fell from the impact. With a clash, some of the glassware fell to the floor. You looked at him with anger, your chest heaved out. This was no longer a nice conversation. Especially not after he would accuse you of such things.

“You are precisely my problem, Y/n.” He pulled the cart away from you, which caused the rest of the glasses to shake and fall onto the floor. Each and every one broke. Shards of glass accompanied the floor along with split liquor. You were able to balance yourself up, but you soon fell to the ground when he whacked you once again. You really wish you had kept your shoes on.

Your palms landed on the loose pieces of glass. You sucked in a breath and looked up at the Colonel. This fat fuck was about to kill you and for what!? What would he even gain from killing you? Your breath quickened as you watched him lift his cane once more. The tip of his cane hit against your head and scratched along your cheek. Your head snapped to the side from impact.

You felt your vision get blurry. Your head felt like it was spinning in the clouds. You ran your finger along the fresh cut and looked up at him. If you didn’t do anything he would bludgeon you to death right here. You quickly moved out of the way of his flying cane and got up, despite feeling the blood rush through your brain. You rushed over to Elvis’ gun collection and opened up the chest.

You heard him laugh from behind you, he didn’t believe you were going to shoot him. Your blurred vision gazed over the guns and ended up just picking a random one. It didn’t have to matter, you were just trying to protect yourself at this point. You quickly turned to him and pointed the gun at him.

“Oh, you don’t have the guts in you, girly.” The Colonel commented as he made his way to you. You breathed heavily as your body shook ever so slightly. As the Colonel came closer, his face was just in arms reached. You raised the gun and hit him across the face. He stumbled back in surprise and looked at you.

“Wow,” the Colonel spoke as he brought his hand up to his face. “You just keep fucking surprising me.” He let out a cough and turned his head. Soon he hacked up a ball of spit and mucus together and spit it out. Yet, it wasn’t mucus or spit… it was blood. Your hands shook as you kept the gun pointed at him. There was no way you were going to shoot him. You already knew this, and he knew that.

“I didn’t do anything to you! Why are you trying to kill me!?” You asked in a loud shaky voice.

“You are trying to take my boy away from me!” He matched your volume. No… no, you couldn’t believe that was the answer. There was more, he just wasn’t sharing anything with you.

“All you care about is the money! You don’t give a shit about Elvis!!” You screamed as you took a step closer to him.

“I care de-”

“Bullshit!” You screamed and clicked the safety off.

“I’ve had just enough from you-” Before he could finish you just started to beat his face in. You don’t know what came over you. You just felt this source of anger come over you. The Colonel fell onto his back and you just continued to hit the metal gun against his face.

He tried to push you off him, but you just kept going and kept going and- Bang! You stood up quickly with a shaken expression and looked at him with wide eyes. Blood started to trickle out of his neck and onto the floor. Your body shook as your hand went limp. The metal piece fell out of your hand and onto the floor. You… You just shot him. It was self-defense right? You couldn’t be at fault here, he attacked you first.

The sounds of the doorknob pulled you out of your thoughts. You stood like a deer in headlights as the door pushed open. The door creaked in and the disheveled appearance of your boyfriend appeared. His eyes met yours and he smiled, but it quickly changed once he saw the state of yourself. You held a look of fear and pain in your eyes. He saw the red splatters over your face and purely white dress.

His eyes scanned the room as he noticed the liquor cart thrown on the ground. Glass shattered all over the floor. He walked forward and closed the door behind him. It didn’t take long before he saw the lifeless body of his manager on the floor. He should be sad… depressed even. Yet, he felt a sense of happiness.

“Well, it’s ‘bout time,” he said as he looked at the scene. He tore the scarf off his neck and tossed it onto the couch. He reached down and picked the gun up in his hands. Most of his guns kept cold from the metal, but this one was warm from your touch. He brought it over to his collection and placed it down to the side. He’d have to clean it off later. He came up to you and took your hands in his.

“What happened?” He asked you with a soft voice.

“H-he uh- he-” You tried to speak but you were too shaken up. Hell, you just killed someone! And… and… to be honest, you weren’t exactly bothered by it. You killed a bad person. You killed the villain.

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll worry ‘bout this.” He said as he cupped your face. You flinched a bit when his hand came in contact with your cut. Nonetheless, you nodded quickly and looked into his eyes. You felt at ease, you felt safe. Elvis leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You hummed and kissed him back.

The two of you separated and you made your way over to the bathroom. You looked yourself in the mirror and cringed at the sight. You had blood all over you. You let out a sigh and turned on the sink. You heard the muffled sounds of Elvis’ voice and tilted your head towards the door. You walked away from the sink and stood closer to the door.

“I need ya to come up here.” You listened in on Elvis. “There’s been an accident.” You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. Well, in terms of evidence, the shot was an accident. The beating his face in with a gun wasn’t. You were only fighting back though, and the Colonel just pushed your hands in a way that triggered the gun.

“You’ll understand once ya get your ass up here.” The sound of the phone clicking indicated that Elvis ended the call. His footsteps came closer to the bathroom and he pushed open the door. He looked over at you and let out a sigh. He couldn’t believe what happened to his girl.

“Come ‘ere.” He said gently as he dragged you over to the sink. He dipped a washcloth under the running water and dabbed it onto your cheek gently. “I just called Jerry. He’ll be up to help assess the situation.”

“I-I’m sorry, Elvis,” you spoke quietly and shamefully.

“Oh please, I always wanted him dead.” He admitted with a straight face. You knew Elvis hated the Colonel but to want him dead? Well… you wanted him dead also. So did your brother, and so did just about anyone he worked with. “But I promise you, nothing bad will happen to ya.”

“How can you be so sure of that Elvis? We’re on the thirtieth floor, and the hotel is flooded with people. You can’t exactly walk out the front door.” You pointed out to him.

“We’ll figure that out once Jerry comes up okay?” Elvis pulled away the washcloth and tended to your hands. Most of the glass didn’t stick when you landed, but there were a few pieces here and there. He pulled them out and then cleaned your hands. Elvis may have never appeared to be one to aid people, but when it came to his girls… He would kill to protect them. If you hadn’t killed the Colonel, well… he would’ve done so himself.

He pulled away once he was done and turned off the sink. “Take a shower, love,” he said as he gave your bum a quick slap and walked out of the bathroom. You let out the slightest sequel and smiled softly. You knew he would take care of you, and you were lucky to have that in a partner. He closed the door behind him and you were left alone.

You peeled the white dress off your body and frowned at the blood splotches. You knew you were going to have to through the dress away. It was easy evidence that pointed you towards the killing. You just… You loved this dress so much. If only it was black instead of white. Maybe then you could salvage it. You brought your hands up to your necklace and took it off. You laid it gently on the sick and looked back towards the shower.

You undressed the rest of your undergarments and made your way over to the shower. You leaned into the shower and turned the water on. You turned the knob towards heat and wait for it to warm up. Only then did you step in and let the water run against your skin. You closed your eyes and let out a shuddered breath. In the main room, Elvis was opening the door.

“What’s the accident man?” Jerry questioned as he walked in. His eyes were mainly on Elvis, but when he looked anywhere but- “Wait-”

Elvis closed the door and nodded, answering Jerry’s unspoken question. “He’s done. Got shot in the neck shortly after having his face beaten in.” Elvis explained what he could only gather.

“How?” Jerry asked, trying to grasp together the parts.

“Y/n,” Elvis responded. Jerry snapped his head in Elvis’ direction and his eyes widened.

“What? No,” Jerry shook his head. You were the sweetest girl Jerry had ever met. You had a hard stick, yes, but to go ahead and kill someone. You would never do that.

“I don’t know what happened, I could only assume he started it. She’s got a cut on her cheek, she had glass in her hands. She grabbed one of my guns and beat his face in. Shot him in the neck.” Elvis shrugged his shoulders. He knew he wouldn’t get the full story until you spoke to him, but for now… he just paced together what he could.

“Damn,” was all Jerry could say. Elvis nodded and rubbed his jaw gently. He was just trying to figure out what to do. They had to get the body out of the building and taken care of. How they were going to do that though… that was the question.

“I don’t know how we’re gonna do this EP,” Jerry admitted. Elvis let out a breath and nodded. He knew it wasn’t an easy task. Not to mention, if news ever got out and you were the suspect… he would take the blame easily. He was more of a suspect than you would be.

No one could know what happened. “What if we take him down to his office? Throw around his office a bit. Make it look like someone came in and killed him.” Elvis suggested.

“Could work, but her blood could be on his cane.” Jerry pointed out.

“We’ll clean it off.” Elvis replied back.

“Okay… Okay, yeah, we can do that.” Jerry nodded slowly as he thought over the idea. It was simple really. They drag him down to the Colonel’s office. It was just below this floor. No one would see them. They sneak the body in and mess up the office. Make it look like it was s struggle.

“I’ll have someone come up and clean this mess. Explain that Y/n had a fall.” Elvis continued to speak out about their plan.

“And bled out that much?” Jerry questioned him. Elvis gave Jerry an all-knowing look and nodded.

“Right… We’ll clean the blood up and then call up the housemaids.” He changed up his wording.

“E…” Your soft voice broke them out of their conversation. Both Elvis and Jerry turned towards you. You had just finished your shower and made your way out of the bathroom. One of Elvis’ robes wrapped around your body. The white from your pearls and the shine from the diamonds stood out from underneath.

“Yeah, darlin’?” Elvis questioned as he gave you his attention.

“What’s going to happen to me?” You asked gently. That’s all you thought about while you were in the shower. What was going to happen to you? You couldn’t exactly keep this to yourself.

“Nothin’ is going to happen to you, love.” Elvis made his way over to you. He placed his hands on your upper arm and rubbed gently in a comforting manner. “We got it all planned, We’re gonna take him down to his office. It’s gonna look like someone broke in and killed him.”

“I- I killed him…”

“No one has to know,” he said in a whispered tone ad he pushed away the loose pieces of hair that stuck to your face. “To them, an enemy killed him. No one will know, and if the truth comes out… I’ll take the blame.”

“Elvis no,” you shook your head, “I can’t let you do that.”

“You saved me, I owe everything to you. I know damn well my sweet girl ain’ gonna go to prison now.” The corner of his lips turned upward. You let out a breath and just shook your head. You knew you weren’t going to win this battle.

“Okay,” you said gently.

“Can you do me a favor, darlin’?” He then asked. You nodded easily not having to think about it. “Clean up some of the blood. Then call housekeeping, and say you fell and had a little bit of an accident. They’ll clean up the rest.”

“Okay,” Elvis leaned down and pulled you in for a long kiss. You closed your eyes and felt your hands grab his top. You pulled him closer to you and deepened the kiss. When the two of you pulled away, you shared this look between the both of yourselves. You two were stuck together now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Elvis let go of you and turned towards Jerry. “Let’s get him out of here.” Your eyes watched as they picked up the Colonel’s limp body. You don’t think you will ever heal from this. You were going to be haunted forever by this memory. They made their way out of the room and you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

You went into the bathroom and grabbed one of the towels you just dried off on and went over to the spot. You threw the towel down and looked out the window. You knew no one could see you up here, but you still had that fear that someone saw… That they watched you shoot him.

You let out a sigh and got down on the ground to clean up the blood. Picking up as much as possible. It was okay if there was some blood smeared. The housekeepers will just clean them. You did just have an… accident. Once you finished cleaning up most of the mess you walked over to the front door and dropped the towel down.

You watched your step as you walked over to the phone. You picked it up and called the number to the front desk. You let out a hum and sat down on the couch, your book long forgotten by now. “Mr. Presley, what can we do for you?”

“Hi, I was wondering if we could get housekeeping up here? I tripped and made a bit of a mess with the alcohol cart,” You chuckled lightly but inside you were dying.

“Of course Ms. Binder. We’ll send someone up right away.”

“Thank you,” you hung up shortly after and let out a sigh. You let yourself sink into the black patterned material.

Down in the Colonel’s office, “Goddamn he weighs a fucking ton,” Jerry groaned as he and Elvis dropped the Colonel’s body onto the ground.

“Ya telling me,” Elvis let out a huff and looked around. He leaned down and picked up the cane and looked at the Colonel. Jerry looked at Elvis with a look of intrigued. Before he knew it, Elvis lifted the cane and bashed it onto Parker’s face. Jerry flinched back a bit but continued to watch as he took a few more swings before dropping it on the floor.

“Fuck you,” Elvis muttered and looked around the office. This could be his chance to look around. See what the Colonel was hiding.

“You want to see what he could be hiding huh?” Jerry could read Elvis like no one else. He was his best friend after all, but he wanted to snoop too. Jerry hated the Colonel just as much as Elvis did.

“Oh yeah,” Elvis nodded simply.

“How about, you get back to your girl? I’ll look around and finish up in here.” Jerry suggested. Elvis turned and looked at Jerry.

“Yeah… Yeah,” Elvis nodded and rubbed his jaw. “Yeah, I should get back to her.”

“You want to hit him again don’t you?” Jerry let out a light sigh. He knew he shouldn’t push Elvis to do such things but…

“Ohh yeah,”

“Well, go ahead-” Jerry should’ve never said anything. Elvis picked up that cane once more and just went to town. The Colonel’s face was unrecognized once he was done. He just had so much anger for him, and he finally got it out.

“Okay, Elvis… I think it’s time you go back to, Y/n.” Jerry said as he took the cane out of Elvis’ hand. Elvis let out a loud breath and nodded.

“Yeah… I’ll uh- I’ll see ya tomorrow, Jer,” Elvis said as he headed towards the door.

“See you, EP.” With that, Elvis left the Colonel’s office and headed back up to his suit. Tonight has been… weirdly rough. All he wanted to do was lay in bed with his girl and fall asleep. He knew tomorrow wasn’t going to be any easier. They would find him tomorrow, and everything would be turned into a crime scene.

As Elvis reached the suit and walked in he noticed that the curtains were closed. He blinked a bit to adjust his eyes and made his way over to the bed. He saw you curled up on top of the blankets and smiled. He pressed his knee onto the mattress and pulled himself up. He leaned over and pressed a kiss against your head.

He would do anything for you.

Mutual taglist: @darlinboypresley @emmymaehereeeeee @venus-haze @austinstyles

For those curious, this is the necklace.

#asshlyyyy writes #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis fic #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fic

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 2 months

Text

s3 episode 4 thoughts

here we are!!! i actually turned off auto caps on my phone for this; that’s how serious this blog is getting. don't worry, i'll probably remember to turn it back on before i send an important email.

i haven’t seen an ep in a few days and i feel like it has been 80 years. the last episode wasn’t the greatest, so our time apart feels even longer.

this episode is about a guy named clyde. clyde bruckman is a hell of a name. i’m expecting a real cowboy. a guy who knows his way around a horse. he probably spits chew in a certain fashion. we shall see if i’m correct.

(editor's note: op found that clyde was not a cowboy, but something just as special... a friend <3)

we open with a man reading a magazine article on predictions, written by a celebrity psychic. we later learn that this fellow doing the reading is, in fact, clyde bruckman. and elvis being dead but buddy holly being alive has got to be one of the greatest theories i’ve ever heard. i WILL incorporate this into my belief system.

allegedly, buddy holly is going to open at a big music festival. and this is how i learn that lollapalooza was a thing even before chappell roan visited... but we all know that when she steps on that stage in a few short weeks it will blow anything secretly alive buddy holly could have cooked up in his wildest dreams. "the night the music died" <- crazy thing to say about a time before miss roan was even born. anyway...

bruckman ran into someone in the street. feels like a chekov’s gun moment but who knows.

hint: it was!

now the clumsy man is at the psychic. and he says he saw his own future and he seem himself doing things that are “out of character”. now that's suspicious~

OH??? clumsy man just killed the fortune teller and says she should have seen this coming. HUH???? clumsy murder man needs to be punished …our psychics deserve federal protection.

we are at the scene of a murder. a different murder, because this one did NOT take place in the psychic's room. “they say the eyes capture the last thing a murder victim sees” “so what do they say about the entrails?” “yuck” LMAO i giggled a little….

they’re talking about some guy in vague terms, that he’s “unorthodox” and “a kook”, and then mulder walks in and it looks like they’re talking about him but the investigator says “who the hell are you” HAHAHA that got me as well

so the murderer left behind the eyeballs and scully says that they made a profile for the killer and i’m thinking yaaaaay they worked together <3 i love that spooky mulder, the well-established profiling expert, is willing to collaborate. but with her only.

and also the house is filled with porcelain dolls

mulder knowing the professional name for the people who read tea leaves… unfortunately i love him so bad.

THEN the real star of the show rolls up. it’s the psychic from the cover of the magazine we saw clyde reading earlier. CROWDED w paparazzi. he's got a vague european accent going on here. hold up is that jon favreau in the background. i received no clarification on if that was him or not.

psychic is describing a guy who could be literally anyone “white man with facial hair… or not” “tattoo somewhere on his body” wow king of specifics. it's like he's in the room with us. /s

the agents are watching him do this and share a glance and i want it on a poster it’s sooo cute <3

celebrity psychic says he lost the vision from negative energy and then gets right up in the agent’s faces. they handle it pretty well, all things considered. because i would be telling him to back tf up.

he asks mulder to LEAVE!!!! he has been diagnosed with negative energy. she leans in and says “i can’t take you anywhere” LMAOOOO so he stands outside and then the psychic says that skeptics like mulder make him sick. yeah i laughed!!! so what!

description of our guy: “white male, 17-34, with or without a beard, maybe a tattoo, who is impotent” <- wow.

back to the clyde cam. he's selling insurance. telling some guy that he is going to die in a car crash. well this is an effective life insurance sales policy. or not, because he doesn’t close the deal!! sure would have worked on me.

back home, he takes out some moldy cabbage that looks like a guy’s head into the trash. takes out his neighbor’s trash as well, and sees a vision of the dog eating her remains. (sabrina brier voice) oh!!!

(wait i just realized i reference that video all the time and have never cited my sources. if you are unfamiliar with the legendary "oh!" moment please click here)

back to the plot at hand.

clyde asks if his neighbor has enough dog food. thoughtful man. BUT he sees a body in the trash!

this episode is making me giggle <- don't remember what prompted that note but it was true.

clyde, who reported the murder, says that he knew the eyes were cut out, but she was found face down... so. how do you know that. site your sources. “well it just figures”, he says, and it absolutely, and i cannot emphasize this enough, does not

they bring him to… a murder scene. dun dun dun!

he thinks they're pranking him and asks to see their identification again (sees mulder’s badge) “i’m supposed to believe that’s a real name?” yeah get him again for me.

he sees blood at the crime scene and throws up which... yeah. that’s pretty messed up. he emerges from throwing up and starts saying and doing the same things as the earlier psychic. but then he starts getting... a bit more specific. allegedly, the woman was having sex with the killer before she met her end.

“well then, what’s wrong?” “sometimes, it just seems that everyone’s having sex except for me” LMAOOOOOOOOO clyde you are too real

scully looks soooo confused and i love it

all of a sudden, he sees one of the many dolls as a bloated corpse head, and announces where they’ll find the body then… hands the doll to mulder. which is not the first time we have seen him holding a doll. it is an interesting visual. what are they trying to tell us??

scully isn’t buying it. why does clyde know all this stuff? “i don’t believe he’s the killer”, says mulder, and she responds with, “i don’t believe he’s psychic” yeah that’s the dynamic i love. and she is sooooo pretty.

mulder goes to the dude’s house and he knows exactly what is going on. but then clyde seems shocked it's him so we are getting mixed messages here.

he asks mulder if he wants to know how he’s going to die, and mulder says yes after stuttering a little and i’m like WOAH where is this going… but clyde responds with “no you don’t”, which, okay yeah, i don’t think i could handle that either

(he goes on to try and sell mulder insurance)

clyde says the future is inevitable. or if he does get involved… what if there is the whole butterfly effect thing? and then he immediately agrees to going along with the investigation. king of not having an answer. the indecisive representation we deserve.

mulder you’re so pretttttyy... look at him watching clyde touch some brass frogs and base conclusions off of them.

scully arrived at the door as mulder has his head FLAT ON THE TABLE lmaoooo

so, it appears that clyde can ONLY tell how people are going to die. nothing else. now is that useful to this investigation? it's arguable. maybe they can find an angle.

clyde says that the scrap of fabric he’s holding comes from mulder’s new york knick’s t shirt (which was a thing that happened in 1x13 when he was testing that other psychic!!!! ohhhh i remember! do not think i forgot!! and i was confused as to why he would have a knick’s shirt if he was from new england... perhaps he knows no loyalty to geography when it comes to sport)

but mulder denies that it is his shirt anyway, so.

they found keychains on the bodies, and clyde is going on about all the personal information of whoever owned said keychains. it turns out he just sold the guy an insurance policy a few months ago lmaooo... but he knows he was murdered! the death power strikes again.

scully is driving. clyde is in the passenger seat. mulder is sticking his head in between them, asking how he receives his psychic transmissions. it's funny. he wants to know how being a psychic works! so is it like, visions, or dreams or something?

he then implies that mulder will die by autoerotic asphyxiation <- HELLO????? he looks at scully after receiving this news. as if she can possibly defend him against such an accusation.

they’re in the forest looking for a body and clyde explains he knew “the big bopper” was going to die.

scully says she doesn’t believe in that stuff, and even if she did, she wouldn’t believe that story. damn, just really going for his throat, huh. he seems to believe her indignation is over the fact that he liked the big bopper better than buddy holly and he defends himself.

they try to get the car out and mulder’s suit gets all dirty (this is sad to me, a mulder suit enjoyer) but gasp!!! the car is RIGHT OVER THE BODY. that has to be bad for finding evidence. so he did know exactly where it was!!!!

they have a thread from the scene, and have presented it to clyde. “but don’t you have crime labs that analyze these things for you?” he asks scully “yes. yes we do” (pointed glare at mulder) LMAOOOO but he says it takes time!!! and they still haven't analyzed the other thread. so please please please just give your powers a go.

he doesn’t want to help out, but mulder says he wants some insurance. on the fiber, not actual life insurance :( clyde was so excited to tell him the benefits of general mutual!!!

clyde is describing mulder being stalked by the killer sometime in the future, and all of a sudden scully’s up and asking him for more details like she believes it. awww. it’s sweet in a way. does she believe in psychics? no. is she still gonna take detailed notes when one says mulder is in any slight danger? yeah. and don't worry about that seeming to contradict her belief system. she is complicated beyond simple characterizations of skeptic or believer.

he seems to think that the killer will slit mulder’s throat at the investigation, but he doesn’t want to tell him. he DOES tell him that he will step on a pie before whatever happens to him, happens to him.

thank you to the subtitles for clarifying that clyde was imitating johnny carson because they reference would have been lost on me. i know, i’m uncultured, i’m sorry. i’ll google it though. okay, as i thought, he was a late night host. see? we get an exchange of knowledge on this blog, i learn about johnny carson's way of pronouncing the word "killer" and you can use sabrina brier's "oh" in conversation now.

it seems the killer sent clyde a letter saying he’ll kill him. and he’ll be dead before they can get him help :( noooo i like mr bruckman!!! :(

back to the killer. he’s getting a tarot reading and says he’s looking for a guy he’s gonna kill. the man doing the tarot reading smiles nervously, because what do you say in such a situation.

they seem to have bought clyde a pie after his earlier ramblings on the subject, and he kindly asks scully if she wants some, but she denies because she must study background checks instead of relying upon visions. he asks if she is jealous. a good banter between them.

back at the tarot place, the reader mentions a woman. MAYBE A REDHEAD...? stay away from her…

clyde is going on about seeing himself in bed with scully. HELLO??? “it’s just a very special moment neither of us will ever forget” huh. laughs nervously. what the fuck. is she gonna find him dead or do we need to call HR.

(cries editing this, now that i know how the episode ends)

it seems the tarot card guy is about to get murdered. but back at the hotel room with clyde and scully, they’re playing cards and she’s talking about moby dick and macbeth misinterpreting prophecies...

but despite the denial, SHE ASKS HIM HOW SHE DIES??? he says “you don’t” and that is exactly what i like to hear <3

she seemed really serious about it too, like she didn’t want to admit that she was curious, initially deflecting. oh best believe i WILL psychoanalyze that.

LMAOOO okay so this is the episode where mulder says the “chantilly lace” line and she makes that face. he's referring to another thread found at a murder scene, but i saw it in a gif and i have been thinking about it since then.

she slaps his chest with the file and says good luck as he goes to babysit the old man psychic. it was very affectionate. do it again.

mulder is in bed. it’s sleepover time with the old man. “you’re not one of those people that turns everything into a sexual symbol, are you?”, clyde asks, seemingly self-conscious about revealing his recurring dream. mulder says no, but i’m unconvinced.

anyway, he talks about seeing himself dead, and how his body fades away. we see a cgi decomposing body and it’s quite gnarly. maybe it's clay? and all his skin faded away and he becomes bones. kinda gross tbh. but he says he feels at peace.

there’s been another murder, so another guy is gonna babysit our clyde, and i’m thinking noooo don’t trust this other guy!!

scully says she feels bad, that clyde has convinced himself he is a psychic and it’s taken all the joy out of his life :(

okay, the guy babysitting him seems to be telling him jokes. clyde says he won’t die of lung cancer so he lights up. and i'm thinking, buddy, he did not rule out emphysema.

hang on. that is a lighter we have seen before. in the hands of old lady who shall be eaten by dogs. now is this a mass produced object or are we about to witness the end of clyde!!!!

“don’t open that door for anybody”, says the babysitter, and clyde then immediately proceeds to do so. and who is it knocking but the psychic killer delivering their room service!!!

killer is asking clyde why he does these things and it’s “because you’re a homicidal maniac” well that would explain it! and then he stabs the babysitter. but clyde has delayed his fate by telling the murder he doesn’t kill him now. seems he believes him. clever thinking.

scully realizes that the killer is the bellhop at the hotel after seeing some more lace. which mulder describes as “woman’s intuition” yea <3

back at the hotel. mulder is in the kitchen. he sees the killer with the knife. it is all going down as clyde described it. now if there really is a pie do NOT BE DISTRACTED. OH there is a pie. and he knows he has to turn around, so he turns THE OTHER WAY. noooo!!!!!

they get in a struggle!!! mulder’s bleeding, and scully gets off the elevator just in time. she shoots the murderer. no hesitation on taking a life, she will kill a motherfucker for mulder. i love that about her.

and scully only got there because she took the wrong elevator!!! more pondering on the meaning of fate!!!!!

i love when one of these bitches is on the floor in pain and the other comes over and comforts them. i think i need that in my life just once. it would heal me.

but the question is: where is bruckman?

they go to find him and they only find a dog tied to the door?? and a letter to scully. it’s the dog from before, the neighbor's pet. the letter from clyde says to take care of his neighbor's remains. and he asks if she wants a dog, and that you can’t blame him for the dog’s actions. so they go into the room.

BUT IT IS BRUCKMAN THAT IS DEAD IN THERE. it looks he took pills and suffocated himself. scully looks so so so so so sad.

AND OMG!!! SHE IS HOLDING HIS HAND WHILE HE IS IN BED AND CRYING. JUST LIKE HE SAID WOULD HAPPEN. WAIT THIS IS SO SAD.

so that must be why he say a head in a bag at the start of the episode, it was his own death... and the killer was right, he did get to clyde before he was caught, he just didn't attack him. huh. funny how prophecies play out.

cutscene to her on the couch WITH THE DOG IN HER LAP. and an ad from the earlier eastern european psychic is on the tv. she throws the phone at him.

A DOG!!! a dog. okay, a lot to think about, but first and foremost we have scully with a dog <3 and it sits in her lap while she watches TV. and it MAY have tasted human flesh, which i feel is a hard thing to get past, but clearly she has done it. she has done the emotional labor of knowing that fuzzball knows what human meat feels like. and she has faith that this dog will not do the same to her. that is an awful lot of trust for a new dog. but we do know she loves animals. so perhaps she trusts the puppy.

i always pictured her with a big ol mutt from the pound. but a little dog can be just as good of a friend. and it WAS a rescue. that is important!

okay. back to the episode at hand, dog aside. even though it is a BIG deal to me and i'm honestly being so brave by not going on a monologue about what scully having a dog means to me. this episode was definitely comedic, and like the earlier comedic episode, i liked it a lot! but the ending made me so sad :( it was a pretty abrupt tone shift.

still. the episode was SO good. i kept pausing every few seconds to write things down because they made me laugh or otherwise intrigued me (thinking of scully playing cards and explaining macbeth. or chantilly lace line. or "i can't take you anywhere". i will try not to think of mulder's potential death by choking himself for my own sanity)

and i liked clyde a lot. we get a lot of one time characters who we will never see again and so it’s good when those characters make an impact in the short amount of time we share with them.

and i’m always gonna take a light-hearted episode, as light-hearted as a show where serial killing is a daily occurrence can be. it does go to show though that there wasn’t always a consistent tone throughout the story. and i do find that interesting. i am part of a generation where we typically get 6 hour long episodes of a tv show per season, and they’re so condensed there is very little time for exploration with genre or tone. in general, i have loathed this about modern television; the death of the filler episode has been lamented by people far more eloquent than myself.

the only thing i dislike about this format- doing a silly episode- is that if the next episode ends up being really dark it’s like, woah man, the whimsy, where did it go? last season we got humbug, which was SO fresh and funny, and then within the first 3 minutes of the next episode, a baby was killed by a train. so i lowkey got whiplash. but then again, i watched those episodes back to back, so maybe having a week between them seeing them air as they hit TV would have softened the blow. feel free to chime in with your theories on the nature of genre and how pacing of episode viewing effects that experience.

overall, a very good episode. i rank it up with humbug as one of my favorites, which is again funny, because i love the extreme angst and the silly. i paused to take so many notes because i liked so many things that i think i should someday rewatch it again and get a smoother experience haha

#now i'm pondering on the explorations in tone a 24 episode season of television allows you to have #is there a constant tone in this show? beyond the spooky? how would i describe it to a friend? all questions i am asking #i meant that i said about scully not being as simple as falling into mere “skeptic” or “believer” categories btw #i don't think she will fully admit it to herself but that's a conversation for another day when she's ready to have it #because clearly at this point in time she isn't.#but there have been things and i notice them. that is all.#there is a dog now which is huge.#but who will care for it when she must fly off to some sad little motel to investigate the latest grisly tragedy?#maybe her friend that plays the cello will come and let her out. maybe her mom if she's in the area still. a dog is good for the soul.#especially because she just lost missy.... no i'm sad now :((#juni's x files liveblog #the x files #txf

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

Text

Prima Nocta (or the right of the first night) Part 1

Warnings: so so so so many for thematic material. This is dark. Quite dark. This is freshly divorced and verrrrrry bitter and disillusioned Elvis helping himself to the bride of the newest Memphis Mafia initiate. Hugely unreliable narrator, belittling and objectifying of women, dub con because of that, sanctimonious chauvinism, reference to his marriage going very south. no actual sex yet but definitely 18+.

Notes: this got so long from just lead up that I figured it was worth publishing on its own and seeing if there’s interest for a part 2. Sorry for going bonkers on this one, sometimes you just gotta tap into the villain side of yourself. Also, this was inspired by many talks with my previous mutuals about THAT picture of Elvis holding a gun to George Klein’s head at his own wedding…I’m using it for solely for vibes, sorry George

Series: Sky High Lovin -reading Honeymoon might make this even better but not necessary

Dedicated to: Sweet Christi with the wayward mind and all my thanks to Ally and Jane and Elise for spitballing this into existence.

There was a time, not so long ago, when Elvis enjoyed life affirming events like weddings, believe it or not. He enjoyed facilitating days to celebrate love and loyalty and vows before God, promising everlasting devotion. That is, until he learned that “till death do us part” meant about as much to most as a “bless you” did when someone sneezed.

It makes surveying the pink and white festooned hotel ballroom something of an eyesore for him as he lounges back, dressed in black velvet, a sore thumb of ominous derision amidst the pastels, viewing the merry reception through moody, tinted lenses. The familiarly charming table accents of champagne and flowers and paper mache hearts twist his own into something a little furious and decidedly bitter.

A man’s wife betraying him and leaving him and stripping him of his pride and his joy and all his best intentions for her and your child will do that to a man.

Couldn’t even make it a whole decade before she found fault and spread her legs for another and turned his child against the father that loved her.

Sorry for being away so much baby, I was just singin’ myself hoarse to buy you that fuckin ring and car and hair and face and keep you in the style you’d married me for.

Cause it was obvious as all hell that honoring and obeying hadn’t been first and foremost in her mind when she promised forever. Forever to riches and fame, maybe, but not forever to him. She has those now, and he hasn’t got the family he’d prayed an Old Testament God for.

Rather like the pretty lady currently allowing her rodent of a groom to feed her their wedding cake, fake giggles and batting lashes adding to the nauseating act of pretending she can stand being in his company for longer than a couple hours.

Forever, my ass.

Elvis watches her through his shades and with each passing minute the anger burns brighter and his justification steadily builds for the liberty he’s about to commit.

The groom is here for Elvis’ paycheck, the lovely bride is planning to suck that idiot's cock till death doth them part (or a good four years) for the status of being a Memphis Mafia wife, and even the guests now stuffing their faces with pasta and alcohol are here for what Elvis’ money buys.

Loyalty is dead and what’s left is the goddamn food chain, like they’re the animals school tells them they’ve evolved past. In the recent months since his divorce, Elvis has felt a near Devine calling to bring this wicked devolution of morals and motivations to light, to humiliate these homosapiens until some level of shame is regained by mankind. If this is a pack of animals that surrounds him, he is King of the Jungle, and it is a careless and heartless king who lets his subjects run amuck.

He has no appetite for pasta, the hours of frivolity pass him by and he remains aloof, crouching in wait in his chair, running off righteous indignation and primal sufferance. Good things come to those who wait.

That’s what the bride is thinking, Elvis suspects, as the reception winds down and her luxurious honeymoon full of sunbathing and spas, good food and rich wine and the obligatory playing hooky to get out of sex draws nearer. Just a little more time letting fuckin’ Ronnie feed her cake and paw at her, then she’ll be on her way, securely locked into her future of privilege. He’s got nothing against Connie, uh, Sandra, -oh hell what was her name? he consults the gold embossed invitation at his elbow,- He’s got nothing against the newly minted Mrs. Kemp, nothing in particular, except that she’s a woman. And Elvis has a bone to pick and a point to prove with the whole, whorish lot of them.

Elvis opens the limo door for the bride himself, gallantly ushering in the happy couple before joining them as arranged, the whole merry band of his boys piling in after.

The new Mrs. Kemp, unlike some of his boys wives, had had the good grace not to whine about the lack of privacy and alone time to be found in and around Graceland’s inner circle. As a result Elvis allowed her to choose the more expensive flowers and gold embossed invites and french vintages, even if he knew why knew she’d been disgustingly eager for any chance of her intended husband being distracted from her. Elvis is certain, thanks to first hand accounts from fuckin’ Ronnie himslef, that the groom has sampled the bride already. It’s the way of things in this decadent decade, and she’s no fresh outta the nest baby chick. The fact Ronnie could give no further details about his encounters with his betrothed beyond the mechanics of thrusting above her till he blew his load, made Elvis despair of humanity and suspect Mrs. Kemp had a serpentine pragmatism about this entire arrangement.

Oh my buddy my pal, he thinks to himself as the limo flies through the never dark streets of Las Vegas towards the airstrip, I gave my wife everything and that wasn’t enough, how can you compete? God gave Eve the whole of Eden ‘cept for one measly apple tree -and what did the mother of all mankind do? She took, she ate, she damned them all with her disloyalty.

Ronnie is a damn fool, and while Elvis’ warnings were not needed during the engagement and this marriage has progressed to a limo ride and honeymoon, Elvis is not to be thwarted in his determination to save Ronnie the slow disillusionment, the slow death of any pretense of love in his wife’s eyes, the crumbling of all faith in anything such as Elvis has endured. Better to rip the bandage off now, five years is a long crucifixion.

As the limo parks on the tarmac and the gleaming hulk of the private jet looms over them in the night sky, no doubt Ronnie harbors some pathetic hope Elvis has forgotten his promise.

Elvis proceeds his guests up the jet bridge, cane thumping and carefully harnessed excitement radiating through him as he enters the opulent space, watching with benign magnanimity as the newlyweds board his jet, the boys providing a rollicking group to ferry the new couple to their honeymoon destination.

This was Elvis’ treat, he had insisted the jet drop them off before he heads back to wherever it is he’s supposed to be tomorrow. He’s not lost his appetite for spoiling folks. Only this time, he is gonna get repaid in currency a little more tangible than ephemeral, transient, fleeting loyalty. And Ronnie, kiss-ass, weak-spined fuckin’ Ronnie wasn’t man enough to hold out more than a few minutes when Elvis told him his new bride was the price for being inducted into the inner circle, the intitiation to prove his loyalty to The King.

Predictably, after some pathetic and scandalized objections, some monetary threats by Elvis and some judgmental snickers by the guys, fuckin’ Ronnie had caved and betrayed his loyalty to his own wife before he’d even walked down the aisle to marry her.

“B-b-but d-did the rest of t-the g-guys h-h-have to do this?” Ronnie had protested while they were shootin some pool, leaving the gals the other rooms to wedding plan, “Is it a-a-always this w-way?”

It hasn’t always been, no. Because Elvis hadn’t always been so astute. He had allowed his taste for pleasure and innocence and childish notions of fidelity to cloud his perception of women and the men they married. Elvis once was blind, now he saw, and now there was a currency of wedding nights established in the jungle.

“No one’s forcin’ ya to stay in this group.” Elvis had pointed out while lining up his pool cue with the ball, “you’re mighty welcome to go right on out that door, never receive another check from me or a glimpse of Vegas again, you’ll lose that girl, too, cause she sure as hell won’t be stickin around when all your bells and whistles fall off and it’s just you she’s left with. She don’t want ya Ronnie, she wants what I give ya, which makes me her provider, don’t it?” he reasoned before making his shot, the clatter of the balls deafening against the green felt as the older members of the mafia held their breaths in sick fascination with this new form of hazing. “And now, if I’m her provider,” Elvis had straightened up his posture to watch Sonny mark the score on the board, “that makes me a husband of sorts, an authority, a protector. A sugar daddy. Don’t it? You gonna tell me I should throw you guys a damn weddin’ and honeymoon, buy ya the house you live in and the cars you drive, the clothes she wears and the food you eat cause you hang around me an’ promise to protect me if the time comes? Bodyguard my ass, I could turn anyone to chopsticks before you even woke up long enough to realize a threat. Face it Ronnie, there’s a totem pole in this here life, and no one blames ya for bein’ a few notches down than most in the scale of things, but it don’t give ya much leverage bein’ down there. I give you that leverage. And I’d like to compensate myself for my generosity with a lil marital privilege. Jus’ once, just first night rights.” he took a swing of his coke and watched Ronnie closely, licking the sugar off his lips with deliberate swipes of his tongue, “Or would ya prefer I just wait and fuck her in six monthes when she comes knockin’ on my door sayin’ she just got lost in this big ole place?”

Fuckin’ Ronnie was a coward and a cad and he essentially agreed that he’d rather Elvis fuck his wife on the wedding night and be done with it than always be watching his back, suspecting her of carrying on an affair. Ronnie was a little bitch, Elvis surmised. Gone was any protest that he couldn’t do that to her, that she was a good gal, that Elvis wouldn’t do that to a friend.

Kings had no friends. And tonight Ronnie was oh so close to being officially inducted into the Memphis Mafia, he’d do nothing to jeopardize that . Elvis figured he’d wait until the plane took off to sample the goods, make her husband squirm guiltily over it while his new bride puzzled over why he was so tense.

Out of consideration for her downer of a groom, Elvis handed her a drink, playing the gracious host and taking her mind off her husband's stiff bearing and sweaty pallor.

“Don’t mind him, honey,” Elvis whispered hot and wet in her ear as he handed the drink off, “Ronnie boy here’s just scared of flyin’. You’re not scared are ya, honey?”

Honey….he couldn’t recall her name, Mrs. Kemp’s name, his fatigue and apathy too strong. He stood straight and dug in his pocket for a pick-me-up as he watched her smile and blush under his attentions,

“No sir, Mr. Presley, I’m not scared.” she smiled, “One could think we’re sat in a living room, it's so spacious here.” she added a compliment.

“I’d like to show ya the rest.” he says sitting down next to her, his arm heavy and warm around her shoulders and his gaze intent on her, knowing the effect this has on an ignored woman.

He recalls using that same line on his young bride during their honeymoon, eager to show his own new wife everything he had to offer. Beauty and luxury and care and a damn good fuck in front of the mirror back there. And it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough.

He can feel Ronnie tense further against the back of his hand where he clasps the bride’s shoulder, knowing that the “rest” of the plane beyond this lounge is a conference table, a toilet and a bedroom. Ronnie has had the privileges of being part of the TCB and now he’s about to pay his admission fee, and Elvis smirks at the thought that the man will never ride aboard this jet again without thinking of getting cuckolded by his boss.

The Bride is trying to make sense of Elvis' sudden shift of mood along with her husband’s. Both of them seeming to have swapped bearings, changing from the reception as if the jet’s air pressure had doused Ronnie’s merriment and finally revitalized Mr. Presley from the rather sullen attendee he had been. Elvis can feel her hesitancy to agree in her body language and the way she keeps looking over to Ronnie, as if to figure out his nervous ignoring of her and the way Elvis makes up for it in touches and attention. Beneath them the jet rumbles and takes flight, her little gasp at the heart swooping feeling of take-off a taste of what’s to come, of what he’ll pull from her body, willing or not . He’d rather lure her, try that first, the other can always be resorted to.

There’s an unspoken agreement to wait on this lil tour till the jet reaches cruising altitude, and Elvis spends the wait rubbing her arm and watching her try to make conversation with her groom who finds discussing the latest baseball stats with Red far more interesting than recalling the beauteous memories of the last few hours with his now introspective and mildly panicked bride. It’s funny to hold a woman whose mind is racing, Elvis can almost feel the frantic thoughts and conflicting emotions battering her frame from the inside out like a caged bird against its bars.

Elvis allows the minutes to trickle by and work for him, the soothing sweep of his hand slowly melting her rigidity, the continued abandonment of her husband's attention going from hurtful to frustrating, the innocuous chatter of the fellas talking and laughing around them, the cool air of the jet’s cooling system kicking on, and his warm and broad chest already pressed against her, now beckoning like a little haven for her to cower inside until the confusion passes. He clocks all these developments as the minutes go by, fully aware the boys are making small talk with their minds as preoccupied as Ronnie’s about when Elvis will make his move, their anticipation mounting while her guard drops, finally accepting his closeness without question. The jet rumbles and her drink kicks in and with the wedding fever abated it leaves her drowsy, unmoored.

Elvis waits for the perfect moment to pounce and is rewarded for his patience. The cool blast of the AC has made her begin to curl towards him and he’s met her halfway and it’s not till her head almost nods weakly to lay on his shoulder that her sensibilities prick her and she jerks it back up, another little gasp. It makes his repeated,

“Lemme show ya round, honey, got all sorts of remarkable stuff up here”

sound like a gallant cover for her lapse of decorum. Predictably, she shakes herself upright and gives him a polite nod of thanks, their first mutual, unspoken communication acknowledging something the rest of the room isn’t privy to. Her loyalty is slipping and all it took was a few minutes of heating her up with his embrace, a few whispered teases and buying her a whole damn lifestyle. To her credit she looks to Ronnie as she rises, asking him to come along in a coaxing voice Elvis knows is her trying to get her new husband to even look at her.

Elvis watches her try and fail at this from the curtained doorway leading to the back of the jet, thinking it makes a striking picture. A bride still dressed in white, bending over to try to catch her husband's eyes as he watches TV in his rumpled tux, the entire plane’s worth of masculine attention directed on her, except for the man who swore to worship her. Perhaps the disillusion will go both ways tonight, maybe women aren’t all merley bitches in heat, maybe some start out intending to be faithful and good and content.

Elvis has yet to meet a woman faithful and good and content once he puts his mark on them, they spend the rest of their lives day dreaming and closing their eyes when their husbands are in them and clogging his phone lines, kidding themselves that they’re special. He’s saving her the sin of coming to his room in a couple of months or years and saying she got lost while dropping her silk nightwear down her frame, an old and familiar expression of invitation on her face. She might not know that’s in her future otherwise, but he does. And he’s gonna save her the wait. When she wants something she’ll come to him now, not her husband, and he will have the discipline to make the right choices for her.

Elvis holds the curtain aside and beckons her with his fingers, and she would be angrier that he has the nerve to summon her away from her husband if she weren’t so humiliated at being ignored by the man. Frustration at their man makes women very susceptible to comfort, Elvis knows this intimately, and in their strong desire to be understood and soothed, they’ll spread their legs for the first person who tells them they deserve that attention.

She ducks under his arm, into the shade of the conference room with an attitude written on her face. Elvis drops the curtain behind them, the prey corralled. Nothin so easy as a woman scorned, nothin’ quite so hungry and quite so fierce. He hopes she’ll take out some of that miffed little ‘tude out on his back with those fancy nails his money bought her. It makes him smirk in anticipation and he can tell she finds that unsettling, her huffy bearing faltering once she notices him just watching her move round the glossy table top, suddenly aware of their seclusion and the fact she left her groom behind for a tour of the jet. She’s beginning to doubt her choice, doubt her loyalties.

Honeymoon off to a damn good start, she thinks sourly.

It’s innocuous, standing at opposite ends of a conference table with a man who is your husband's closest friend and at whose house you’ve eaten multiple dinners. There’s nothing wrong with it, but she feels her skin prickle none the less like she’s in danger, like those eyes observing her through shaded lenses are not fully human, not fully beneficent. She curses Ronnie for humiliating her, for his weird mood these past weeks making her feel isolated, for her past making her paranoid of this assessing male gaze.

She’d met a panther in the woods on an Appalachian bike ride once. They’d stared each other down as he had crouched and observed, his eyes fathomless and intent, the muscles of its body undulating in readiness beneath sleek black fur. Her mouth had dried out exactly the same as it does now when her shy smiles aren’t met with anything besides those assessing eyes and that crooked smirk that holds no fondness for her, no pride in his jet, no amusement at her awe of his wealth. A smirk of pure and smug knowingness.

Then he calls to her and the warmth of his voice melts her fear. “Check out this icebox, honey”

Her face lights up like a kids in the yellow glow of the refrigerator light as she bends over to look inside, white stain skirt hugging her perfectly and he gathers that all that athleticism has done her good, she could probably ride a man for hours without tiring, judging by the firm curve of that ass.

“See anyhtin ya’d like?” he asks her casually, laying a light hand between her shoulder blades as she reads rows and rows of labeled refreshments.

“Oh, uh, no, no, the drink was enough for now. Thank you Mr. Presley.”

He used to correct folks when they called him that, and used to punt the honorary title to his father. But nowadays he finds “Mr. Presley” might be closer to “your majesty” than mere “Elvis” -in which case he’s stopped putting little floozies at ease by asking them to call him by the name his mama gave him. That’s a name used by a wife back when he was happy and respected and alive.

“C’mere, I wanna show ya this television back here.” he beckons again, removing the heat of his hand from her back and she breathes easier with him taking the lead, she’s able to watch his imposing figure unobserved as he leads her past the conference table and into a small hallway with a large, showbiz style mirror.

Elvis swaggers right on by the marvelous monstrosity with its low counter and doused bare bulbs, but she can’t help herself. A flicker of childish glee taking over as she flips the switch on the wall and makes the bulbs buzz to life, brilliant as a spotlight in the inky gloom, illuminating them from the knees to the ceiling in a gaudy reflection. The sudden blast of light makes him pause on his trek to the bedroom and he joins her in looking at their reflection.

“Hell, honey,” he drawls amused as he takes in her fresh little wedding set and his decadent black suit, “we look like cake toppers.”

She laughs at that, a sweet unaffected thing that is music to his ears, and no doubt a screech to Ronnie’s. Elvis finds his grin growing at that thought and she mistakes it for joy. She laughs again, aborted little chuckles tapering out.

“There’s a tv back here, too?” she asks, embarrassingly at ease with entering a bedroom in the company of Elvis Presley.

Interestingly she doesn’t even glance at the bed when he ushers her in, she’s peering at the walls and the built in furniture for a peek of a screen.

“Mhmm, keep lookin, it’s hidden.” Elvis follows her and shuts the door behind him, a quiet click she doesn’t hear as she’s got her back to him, busily creaking open dresser doors and clapping in commendation upon finding the tastefully camouflaged TV set.

“How wonderful!” She praises and his heart does something funny and nostalgic over unpretentious enjoyment of what he has to give her.

One day it’ll be old hat to her and she’ll be like all the other wives, naggin’ and bitchin’ over keeping up with each other, forgetting about what it was they ever wanted, consumed with one upping each other and dominating the pecking order, spending Elvis’ money not for pleasure but for bragging rights. For now he watches this young woman bounce in her heels over a hidden TV set and makes a pact with himself to be nice, to gentle her into this ruination.

Then he recalls she married Fuckin Ronnie, and that twists his gut in reminder she’s a practical gold digger like all the rest. And he doesn’t mind that about her, he just hates the dishonesty of pretending she’s in it for more, and her ignoring him for a tv irks him as disingenuine.

“Wanna kick back and watch somethin, doll?” he asks her and sees the exact minute his words make her back and shoulders stiffen beneath white silk.

“Uh, on this one?” she’s scared to ask, scared to sound like she’s accusing him of suggesting it, scared to suggest it and give him ideas.

“They got the damn game on the other.” he answers her smoothly, coming up behind her and reaching round her to power it up.

“Elvis.” she dares to sound reprimanding when all he’s done is stand behind her and punch a button, she’s the one who walked into a bedroom with a man who isn’t her husband.

“Gonna be a long flight, three more hours I reckon.” he is patient with her.

“Y-yes.” she hesitantly agrees, watching the screen flicker to life, “And I wanna spend it with Ronnie, exc-“

Liar! He doesn’t let her turn around, he puts his hands on her shoulders and keeps her facing the TV, keeps her away from the closed door she’s not yet noticed, he nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck telling himself, gently, gently, tempt her, tempt her. “Doesn’t seem like Ronnie is eager to spend it with ya.” he mourns low and sympathetic in her ear and she gasps at his brutal honesty, at the fact he’d have no tact to pretend he didn’t notice.

“Elvis, t-this isn’t right.” she parrots her mother or her favorite tv show or some rote set of rules she doesn’t really embrace.

“What ain’t right, honey?” he rumbles, keeping his hands on her, moving them from her shoulders down her arms, then swooping them up again and fingering at the sides of her neck, delighting in the shiver her body yields up to him.

If he hadn’t been so aloof before, she figures she might not feel so electrified by his sudden, all consuming touch. But it’s not just that, he’s kept his distance from her since she started dating Ronnie and in her star struck insecurity she’d made no move to become friendly with him.

Now this, this intentional hovering and the petting that tastes like something she’s only ever heard about. It’s Elvis, Elvis petting her in her wedding dress on the way to her honeymoon destination and that’s simultaneously about as predictable and uncredible as can be. Elvis, who’s been the ephemeral host for countless of lovely parties, Elvis who’s been the presiding specter over all their schedules since she became part of the group, Elvis who has been the magical name on the credit card used for everything she ever wanted. Elvis Presley, the man who achieved all there was in life by 21, and has been bored by it ever since. What did she expect him to be, a fatherly figure?

“Did you like your weddin’ honey?” he asks her after her raging thoughts consume the time she should have spent answering and protesting him.

The hands descending to her hips and squeezing there hint a warning prompt even as his gentle tone reminds her of all he has done for her, his inexhaustible benevolence -which it seems something has finally exhausted. She begins to panic, no need to see those panther eyes when the heat is radiating off of him, sexual intent potent from his aura alone, no need to feel a crude gesture or have it spoken out in clunky declarations of desire. Ingrained self doubt takes hold of her for one brief moment before the scratch of his sideburn rubs against her cheeks and the hot press of his lips against her neck tells her it is not vanity making her project on him, Elvis Presley really is trying to seduce her mere hours after her vows, a few yards away from her new husband and his friends.

“Mr. Presley!” she resolutely stiffens in his embrace and tries to turn and leave his hold of her and he lets her so far as she’s spun round and facing him, her stern tone wobbling out when she’s met with the hypnosis of his expectant stare, “Y-yes it was lovely, thank you.” she stammers out, fear and primal instinct kicking in and guiding her to cower and simper her way out of this, her boldness having bounced off him like shotgun shells off cement. Nothing but damaging to her. “T-thank you for all you did.” she tries again, her tone unsure as his face remains unreadable, his eyes burning and unblinking behind his shades, lit with white hot something in the glow of the tv screen. “You’re very generous.” she admits, tacking on every obeisance she can think of while resolutely ignoring the feel of being held to his chest, near eye level with the gap of his shirt and the chains glittering on his skin. “I need to rejoin my husband, sir.” she begs, begs that she doesn’t want this, denies she’s ever hoped for this.

Idly he wonders if she’s being honest, then he watches her swallow thickly as she catches a whiff of his scent.

Suddenly he crushes her to him, her mouth smashed to the metallic, skin warmed nest of his chains, pinning her there with a hand to the back of her head as his other reaches for the hem of her skirt and drags it up and over her ass, palming it even as she shrieks in shock, “Tell me, Mrs. Kemp,” he growls in her ear, “did you go after Ronnie cause he was near me, or did ya come for the money and stay in the hopes I’d pay attention to your little self? Was you countin’ on me gettin lonely some night an’ sendin’ your husband on an errand so I could get my fill of his wife? Is that what keeps ya from gaggin when he’s on top of ya? Is that the hope?”

Elvis’ fingers find the band of her lacy panties -honeymoon lingerie his money bought her- and he snakes his hand in, down the warm curve of her ass and along her crack, dipping between clenched thighs to rake through predictably sopping wet folds. She gave the whole resistance act a good try, but her womanly body responds to dominance, and Elvis is dominance incarnate. It’s in her weak nature to drip for him, plain and simple, and so he swipes and dips and drags his fingers through her as she fights against his chest, pounding her fists impotently against the velvet of his coat.

“Shhh, shhh honey, I know, it ain’t your fault.” he is magnanimous, gracious as King Solomon. “This, honey, this is what hope tastes like.” he brings his glistening fingers to her snarling mouth and shoves them in against her tongue, savoring the way her choke distracts her from the obvious defense of biting him, “Taste that? That’s how hope tastes, and there ain’t anyhtin’ more harmful than hope. Makes a purgatory of your life. Doesn’t let ya be satisfied with what ya got, won’t let ya get dissatisfied enough to wanna change anythin. You just hope and hope and your life goes by, while you’re hopin.”

She whimpers around his fingers, wilted white silk in his arms, dress bunched up obscenely in the screen-lit room. He strokes her cheek with his spit wet hand, the ring faces of rubies and diamonds and priceless gems caressing her tears away, lulling the creature back to her basic instincts, hypocrisy and futility purged away beneath Elvis’ healing hands. “I ain’t gonna let you go on hopin for years and years,” he enchants her with whispers, rocking her now as she whimpers in catatonic fascination, “I’m gonna gift ya with knowledge.”

Everything she’s given up while fighting to get herself on a jet like this, married to a man of means, with a house and a steady future and a predictable timeline stretching out before her -security at last! -all of it crowds her mind, the devil and the angel on her shoulders whisper in a traitorous debate. Of course life isn’t how she wanted at eighteen when she expected to marry for love, yet of course her mature self is pleased with this match. Those can both exist, and she planned for them to exist in a tidy world where Elvis Presley wasn’t an option, because he’s not. He’s not offering himself, doesn't even have enough dreams of his own to bother with lying about it to buy them both a minute of reprieve from the disillusioned hellscape that is life in one’s thirties when you comforted your starry eyed twenties by telling yourself it gets better. Then to no one’s surprise -it didn’t. The one last insupportable piece of this maturing puzzle that would cement her growing up forever is tasting this then going back to Ronnie. It’s out of the question and she doesn’t give a shit what he’s going through right now, or what Ronnie thinks about her angering his boss, what she needs is the peace of mind that comes with not knowing.

“You can take your knowledge and shove it.” she snaps out of the pliant heatstroke his embrace caused her and shoves him away, only succeeding at making room between them because he’s so surprised by her sudden surfacing out of the trance.

One final thrash of the prey and he watches with amusement as she stumbles in haste across the flickering room, yanking open the closed door and steadfastly booking it to the front of the jet. Headed to the shelter of a man who promised to protect and defend her and cherish her and swore it all while counting his bonus for selling her out.

Elvis watches her till she and her crumpled white dress fly past the brightly mirrored hallway and disappear from his vantage point through the doorway. He picks at his nose and thinks about what he might like to take on this little experiment, and having procured a few items of use saunters after her at a leisurely pace. He sets them on the conference room and table and watches as she pulls back the curtain and steps into the lounge, her whole being vibrating in a way that is not subtle or discreet about what just occurred between them.

It’s warmer in the lounge, just pulling the curtain back wafts warmth into the ice box chilled areas of the plane that Elvis frequents, it makes her tremble with relief. She’s back in public, back where he won’t try anything. Ronnie, to her angry bewilderment, is still glued to watching the TV like he didn’t even register her absence. But his mere existence will still work for what she needs. She needs to belong to someone and sit beside that person for three hours while his boss cools off.

She is not prepared for the way everyone in the lounge spins round to look at her once registering her presence, looking with absolute surprise as if her reemergence was the surprise, not the lengthy plane tour to the back bedroom. It makes her seethe inside, they thought she’d go through with it, damn animals that they are, all “what happens on the road stays on the road” and carefree chauvinism inherited from their boss. She has to remind herself why she wanted this life in the first place, has to recall the perks and the wages and lavish reception.

Red and Joe now flank Ronnie and her seat beside him is taken up by those two manspreading oaf’s. Desperate, she decides to play at being cute and makes to sit on her husband’s lap, spinning round to find Elvis watching hehe from the curtained doorway as she tries to lower herself down to perch.

“Babe, I can’t see the damn screen with you like that.” Ronnie has the churlishness to complain and she wants to scream at his denseness, the way pushes at her lower back to tip her out of his lap.

To save herself the humiliation of face planting on the plane floor she chooses to stand of her own accord and catch herself from the shove. She sees Elvis’ lush mouth frown behind the cigar he’s lighting up.

“Don’t be an ass to her Ronnie, she’s your wife.” he reprimands and she gets a funny feeling of appreciation for being defended in all this. Her loyalty teeters towards the man she has to remind herself she needs to escape from. “Or have ya forgotten, ya unchivalrous bastard?”

That’s a little harsh but the memory of Ronnie not giving a damn about the fact she was almost assaulted -that’s harsh word for that too, her traitorous mind supplies- reminds her that she isn’t happy with him at all. But in fact, come to think of it, she isn’t pleased with any one them, and there’s no where to go on this damned plane. It starts to make her skin crawl, the realization that she’s surrounded by men who would either not believe or else not care if Elvis went through with the forceful attentions he was showing her back there. Who would believe her if she said he forced her?

“Ronnie I’m tired and my seat’s been taken!” she argues with him, “I just wanna sit down. Lay down, even!” she begs, thinking of how best to clear the couch of anyone but him so that no one takes liberties and sits down beside her.

“Then go lay down in back where there’s a fuckin’ bed? Why’d you come out?” he snaps.

“Cause-“ because Elvis Presley tried to take liberties, that’s why, but she feels strangled watching how all the men await her answer with a little too much investment, the way Elvis is still watching her behind tinted shades and a haze of cigar smoke.

“You get all bitchy when you’re tired, go lay down and take a nap, honey. I’m watching the game.” Ronnie suggests her worst fear and it infuriates her how he’s changed just since he slipped a ring on her finger.

“Ronnie please-“ She whimpers and would give anything to know why Joe is leering up at her with a sly grin. There’s no time to think on it as Elvis’ ringed fingers close around her elbow and tug her back towards the curtain.

“C’mon honey, ya heard your husband, let’s get ya situated.” he coos and her fingers turn to ice from the shock of it all.

“I don’t wanna!” she protests, “Ronnie!” she tries one more time while being backed away from her husband by his boss.

“Oh for fucks sake just do what he wants!” Ronnie begs with something akin to frustration but the red hot blush sweating up his neck suggests he’s humiliated to be caught saying it.

“Beg your pardon?” she hisses in disbelief, feeling Elvis’ hand clamp on her arm just a little more, maybe to keep her from marching up to Ronnie and smacking him.

“Just, just give him what he wants. Just tonight.” Ronnie spills the beans far sooner than needed and Elvis wants to roll his eyes at how fast they went from taking her for a nap to admitting to something far more sinister.

The bride’s head swivels from viewing her husband to Elvis and back to her husband and the room full of men who’s thrumming interest in her makes her wanna bolt straight out of the plane now she knows why. It’s sickening yet so strongly in character for them she doesn’t waste many moments in disbelief, it all makes sense in a horribly predictable way. Every one of these fella’s grinning at her discomfort are pathetic in her eyes, as pathetic as men who’d prefer to watch naughty movies than better themselves as lovers. Somehow in the mess of it all, Elvis alone stands out as something a little less deplorable. Even if it’s just his brash and demented honesty she admires.

“Y’all planned this?” she asks dully, scanning each lip licking face, ending with her husband’s sullen one, “This was all planned out? You offered me up? You goddamn, two faced bastard-“

Elvis loops his arm around her waist to prevent her from launching at Ronnie and clawing him to shreds. His chest is searing her through the silk on her back and his hands grab at her more than they need to in order to restrain her. It makes her pulse pound and fury swirls inside her, battling with the cold dread of weakness and helplessness.

“Ronnie made a little deal with me.” Elvis is drawling in her ear in so soothing a way it almost counteracts the nauseating confirmation, “And now, we can watch you runnin’ round this plane for hours to get away from me like a Junebug in a bottle but that ain’t gonna change how this night ends. How bout ya just be sensible, hmm? Just cause he’s a lyin’, no good sunnuvabitch don’t mean you gotta turn bad yourself, ya know? He gave ya instructions, ya can still be a good lil wifey and honor and obey him, can’t ya?”

“Why?” she persists, but feebly this time, not knowing if she’s asking her husband who keeps his face averted towards the screen or the man whose hands are mapping out her body in full view of his friends. “Why y’all gotta do this?”

“I told ya honey,” Elvis murmurs, rucking the hem of her skirt up passed her knees, “hope’s a dangerous thing. I don’t allow it in my house. An’ you’re part of my house now, ain’t ya?” he pets at the damp plushness of her inner thighs as the men stare and she struggles to find a way to empower herself while caught in such a feeble position. Hurting Ronnie, twisting the knife a little more like he’s done her is all she can think of at the time. “Don’t you belong to me, sweetie?” Elvis is prodding once more and his cheek is clammy and hot against hers, the cigar smoke pungent around them.

“Yes sir.” she agrees while sneering at Ronnie’s reddened face.

“That’s more like it.” Elvis’ voice gentles to something a little less frightening than before but all the more terrifying for how sure and smug it sounds. His hands grab at her breasts and she can’t help the whimper she lets out from the presumption, no doubt it’ll only get worse. “Since you’re so eager to stick close to ole Ronnie and include e’rbody in our private business, I reckon it’s only fair we conduct this lil interview on the conference table, hmm?”

When she cranes her neck to look behind him and past the curtain, she can see the shiny table top littered with items it didn’t hold when she made her hasty exit passed it; scarves and a strange sort of plastic wand, that stupid police flashlight and a box of cigars are clumped at its foot in an ominous hodgepodge.

Admitting to being frightened by it would strip away her last bit of autonomy in this and so in a bid to act unbothered she slips out of Elvis’ hold and walks on her own two feet into the room, turning her back to Ronnie before shifting herself to sit on the cold, hard surface of the table.

“Is this what you had in mind, Mr. Presley?” she asks him meekly and makes sure to let her legs fall apart just so. She thinks she’s going to have some control in all this, the silly little thing, thinking he’s a man with regular tastes and base preoccupations, easily distracted from the purpose of this like any other. And the purpose is not pleasure -though he intends to draw it from her till she is broken from it- but purity of intention and nature. A lie dressed in white no more, but a wanton woman giving in to her true nature. Only he has the power to bring this out in every one he meets, and to purge it all the same.

Elvis Presley eyes her, as do all the men in the lounge just past him, until with an approving little hum and smile that is almost pleased, he steps towards her, yanking the curtain closed behind him and leaving them (somewhat) alone together in the dimly lit room, full of anticipation.

And maybe dread.

#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #sky high lovin #Prima Nocta #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis au #70s elvis #elvis the king #elvis film #elvis aaron presley #austin elvis #elvis x you #Elvis #elvis movie #elvis photos

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sissylittlefeather · 3 months

Text

Suspicious Minds: Part 3

A/N: Phewwwww alright, y'all. I finally was able to finish this!!! I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out, so I hope you all love it too! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments. Seriously, we writers live for that. Your love was the only way I was able to break through that writers block!

Need to catch up? I know it's been awhile. Masterlist HERE.

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS ALLOWED, kissing, cussing, gun violence, blood, espionage, and sex, oral sex (m receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~4.4k

"Elvis!"

bang

******

You cringe and shudder as the bullet hits the wall right behind your head. Elvis rips the earpiece out of his ear and tosses it on the ground, stomping on it quickly. Before you even register what's happening, he does the same thing to yours.

"Elvis, what the fuck is going on?!" You ask shakily. He grabs you and pulls you to him, holding you tightly and trembling.

"I just either uncovered two traitors in our organization or betrayed my country."

"Why did you almost shoot me?!" He pulls back and cups your face in both of his hands.

"They told me you were working for the enemy. Tell me that's not true, honey."

"Of course it's not! I swear it, Elvis, I-"

"I trust you." He leans in and kisses you. "I lo-"

Just then the door busts open and multiple armed security guards enter the room, automatic weapons pointed in your direction. Elvis turns and pushes your body behind his. That's when West saunters in.

"Ah, Agent Presley, I knew you would be a problem for me."

"West. I should've known, you fucking rat-"

"I think that's plenty. Grab him, boys." The guards approach Elvis and he fights back, but they get him restrained and drag him away from you. "Her too."

You shake your head as the guards grab you and pull your hands behind your back with zip ties.

"Elvis!"

"It's okay, honey, I'll come for you as soon as I can. It's okay."

But it doesn't feel okay as you're dragged down a hallway to a room away from Elvis. They plop you in a chair and the two armed guards assigned to you circle like sharks.

You sit in the chair trying to assess the situation. Maybe you should just wait for Elvis to come to you. But you are probably significantly less guarded than he is. You can't just wait here. What if they kill him? No. That's too much to even think about.

You look between the guards and try to figure out what to do. As you do, tears begin to stream down your face. How did you get here?

"Shut up that crying." One of the guards yells at you.

"I can't! I don't belong here. I'm just a person. I'm not a spy." You continue to cry hysterically, increasing in both volume and intensity and an idea occurs to you.

"I said shut up!" The guard hits you across the face and you yelp in pain. You don't stop crying though. If anything, that makes it worse. You shudder and hiccup and cry with everything inside you. "I said-"

"I'm sorry! I can't help it! I'm so scared and I don't know what to do! I need my meds." The guards exchange a glance.

"Meds?"

"Yes! For my anxiety. I have them in my pocket. Please." You sob loudly again and the guards look at each other.

"No. Just shut up."

"I literally can't! Please! I won't do anything. I'm just a girl. What would I do?"

"No." He says it shakily. You can tell his resolve is faltering as you continue to sob openly.

"Please! Just cut me free and let me take my medicine. That's all I'll do. I promise." The guards seem to be trying to communicate silently. You whimper and cry and pray that they'll let you free. Finally, one of the guards walks to you and pulls out his knife. The other one shakes his head.

"If this'll shut her up then it'll be worth it." The guard leans down and slices open the zip ties at your wrists.

Before either of them can register what's happening, you rip the gun out of your shoulder holster under your vest and shoot the guard with the gun in the head.

"Oh God. Fuck." You try really hard to ignore what you just did. Your love for Elvis outweighs any other hesitation. You quickly point your gun at the other guard who has his hands raised, daring him to do or say anything.

"I'm going to leave here, and you're going to let me." The confidence in your voice shocks you. But still, you walk to the door and sneak out, leaving the guard standing there in shock.

Alarms blare as you search from room to room for Elvis. You have no idea what you'll do when you find him, but leaving without him is not an option. After a decent amount of time, you open a door and find him sitting in the middle of a room, hands zip tied behind him. Your heart stops when you see him. They've obviously been beating him. To what end, you're not sure, but his face is bloody and swollen and it breaks your heart. You immediately rush over to him, pulling the knife from your boot to cut him free.

"Baby, how did you-?"

"Shhh, Elvis, we need to get out of here." You get him completely cut free and he leans against you as you move towards the door. When you get there, he stops you and kisses you.

"You're incredible. I need to to tell you-"

"Elvis. We really have to go. They'll be here any second." He nods and lets you guide him out the door and up staircases. You manage to make it to the roof without running into anyone else. But once you get up there, you stand there with him wrapped around you, not sure what to do next.

"What's your plan, babe?"

"This was it. I don't know-" You're cut off by the sound of a chopper hovering close to the roof. Elvis pulls his gun out and points it at the helicopter, but the door swings open.

"Get in!" Its Nine. Part of you freezes. Whose side is she on? "All hell's broken loose. Get in the fucking helicopter!"

You decide you don't have a choice and half carry Elvis over to it and climb in. You slam the door and she takes off quickly.

"Well, that didn't go as planned, did it?"

"You could say that." Elvis yells over the sound of the chopper. You make the rest of the journey in silence, but she doesn't take you back to headquarters. Instead, she takes you somewhere else. It's not until you land that you realize you're at some kind of government location. She cuts the engine and the blades slow and you are finally able to speak.

"Where are we?" She looks at you, seemingly trying to decide how much she should tell you.

"Langley. My organization is shot. We need big guns." She leads you into the building and you're greeted by the deputy director of the CIA. Nine does all the talking as you hold Elvis up. He does his best to stand on his own, but you can tell he's in a good deal of pain.

Eventually, they separate you all to tell your pieces of the story. You sit with an agent and tell him everything, starting with the night you downloaded the information.

"And where is that flash drive?"

"We gave it to the Colonel." The agent curses openly.

"That traitorous bastard will be on the first plane to a country that doesn't extradite."

"I'm sorry."

"We'll get it back." You continue your conversation until he finally dismisses you. He takes you down to the cafeteria to eat something and then brings you back up to a waiting area of sorts. They appear to do the same with Elvis and he sits next to you about an hour after you sit down.

He immediately turns to you and wraps you in a hug, kissing your cheek.

"Honey, I'm so glad you're okay. I thought I'd lost you." He gently brushes his thumb across your face and looks into your eyes.

"I'm right here. We made it out."

"Yes, but you failed the mission." Nine appears, looking between the two of you cuddled together in the chairs. "You're obviously fired, Agent Presley."

"I know I should care, but right now, I really don't." He looks back to you, his hand on your face again.

"Good. That means you can work for me." The deputy director chimes in, interrupting your moment with Elvis.

"Work for you? Here?" You ask genuinely curious.

"Yes, here. The mission still needs to be completed. I'd like to have you both work here to make sure it gets done. Once that is complete, we will consider you for other projects in the future. Our concern is your skill, not your relationship status." Elvis looks to you as you nod and smile and then up at the deputy director.

"I think we can make that happen, boss." He stands up and shakes his hand, grimacing with the pain of getting on his feet.

"But not today. You two need some time to recover. We will resume the mission in 48 hours." Nine nods to the deputy director.

"We'll put them back in the safe house until then."

You both breathe a sigh of relief that you'll be alone again soon.

******

It's dark when you finally get back to the safe house. Elvis is really glad to see his Stutz is still there. He unlocks the door and you both drop your bags on the floor and wrap yourselves around each other, but he winces and pulls back.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize. Let's just get you cleaned up." You take him into the bathroom and manage to find a bowl and washcloth. He leans against the counter as you gently dab at his face to remove the dried blood. When you finish, he takes your hand and kisses your palm softly.

"Thank you, baby." He's dying to tell you what he's been trying to get out all day, but his exhaustion gets the better of him.

"Okay, let's get you into bed. You need rest." He nods and allows you to lead him into the bedroom.

You sit him on the edge of the bed and begin to undress him carefully. He grimaces as you move him to remove his jacket and shirt. The bruises on his ribs are starting to turn dark purple and it breaks your heart to see them. Your fingers are featherlight as you graze them over his skin.

"Oh, Elvis."

"It's not so bad."

"You don't have to play tough for me." He pulls you down into a kiss. Keeping his lips pressed to yours, he turns and lays back on the bed, bringing you down with him, his hand on the side of your face. He backs away from the kiss and his eyes flick between yours quickly. It's like he's trying to decide something. You stare into his eyes silently waiting and he finally opens his mouth.

"Baby, there's something I've been trying to tell you all day." Your heart flutters as he moves a piece of hair out of your face.

"Yeah?" He swallows hard. You can tell he's nervous too.

"And you don't have to say anything. I know it's quick, but I just can't wait anymore."

"Elvis-"

"I love you." It hangs in the air like something tangible, falling on you like soft rain drops. You close your eyes and let it wash over you. "Baby?"

Your eyes open and you lean in and kiss his cheek. You kiss above his eye where there's a deep cut. Then you kiss his other cheek, the end of his nose, his jawline, his forehead, and finally land at his lips. Then, you whisper.

"I love you too." He pulls you in to kiss you deeply and presses his forehead to yours.

"You do?"

"Of course I do." He smiles and kisses you again and then backs off quickly, grunting in pain. You kiss his neck and start to move down his chest, softly pressing your lips to the places where the bruises are forming. He whimpers as you leave a trail of kisses down his abdomen to the line of hair that leads down into his pants. You undo his belt and begin to strip him from the waist down.

"Honey, I want nothing more than to make love to you, but I can't really move-"

"Then don't. Be still and let me take care of you." His cock bounces free, standing at full attention, as you remove his pants and settle between his legs.

"Honey-OH!" He leans his head back and moans loudly as you take him in your mouth. You use one hand to push his foreskin back and then pull him deeply into your throat. "Goddamn, baby, that's good."

His hand goes to your hair and he grabs a handful as you bob up and down on his dick. You run your tongue up the bottom of his shaft and then lick a slow circle around the head. Then, you go back to bouncing up and down and pull him into your throat again. His hips buck and he moans and you know he won't last much longer if you keep this up. You pull off of him and stand up next to the bed, stripping off all of your clothes. He reaches up and touches your body, squeezing your breast gently, dragging his thumb across your nipple, and then moving down to your center where he rubs circles on your clit.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. You have me body and soul, honey."

"I'm yours, Elvis." You whisper as you climb on top of him and straddle his hips. He groans as you sink down onto him, taking his whole cock inside you. You start to slowly grind against him, pushing him even deeper and he whimpers. "Does it hurt?"

"God, no, baby." You smile and lift your hips, sliding him back into you as you lower yourself. He grabs your hips and holds them, moving you up and down on himself sensually. "Mmm I'm not gonna last long."

"That's okay." He moves one hand back to your center and moves his thumb on your clit. "Me neither, if you do that."

You throw your head back as you ride him a little quicker and he continues to rub your sensitive bud. You moan softly and sweat as he groans and tenses under you.

"Cum with me baby. I'm so close."

"Yes, fuck. Me too!"

You both move a little faster, trying to push the other over the edge. Finally, your climax bursts inside you and you come so hard just as he grunts and bucks his hips up into you one last time, filling you with his release. You shudder and pulse around him as he trembles and groans. He pulls you down to his chest and holds you close as you both try to catch your breath.

"I love you, Elvis." He kisses the top of your head and sighs.

"I love you too, baby." He mumbles and you lay in silence for a few minutes before you realize his breathing has evened out. You look up at him and smile. He's asleep. For the first time in days, you feel completely relaxed and drift off to sleep in his arms.

******

For 48 glorious hours, you're in the safe house enjoying the bliss of being together uninterrupted. At the end of it, you dress again for the mission and he kisses your forehead with his arms wrapped around you.

"No matter what happens, remember that I love you. We can do this, baby." You nod and snuggle into his chest.

He drives the Blackhawk back to Langley and you both get out and walk in. You're led to the roof where there's a helicopter waiting for you. You find yourself again with a voice in your ear telling what to do and you start to have flashbacks to the last time you did this. Your anxiety hits the roof. Elvis can feel the change in your demeanor and he reaches over to take your hand and squeeze it gently. He gives you a smile and you breathe a little easier. Something about having him close by makes you feel like you can do anything.

Next thing you know, you're being dropped on the roof again. Security shows up a little quicker this time, but you make it inside. There are more armed guards and it's harder to make it to your destination. Elvis also has a harder time fighting hand to hand with all of his injuries. Still, you're doing okay and making it to your destination.

"One last corner, baby, then we're in the room." You nod and Elvis grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss. He's smiling at you, distracted, when he walks around the corner.

bang

Everything is in slow motion as you watch in horror while Elvis's body hits the floor in front of you. Somehow, you think fast enough though to pull your gun before you turn the corner and shoot the guard. Turns out your aim is pretty good and he hits the floor too. You frantically kneel next to Elvis and watch as his fingers turn red where he holds the wound.

"Oh God."

"Angel! What is it? Is Agent Presley down?" Nine asks sternly in your earpiece.

"Yes!" You holler shakily in response.

"You have to continue. We will send someone to help."

"No! I'm not leaving him."

"Angel, you have to-" You rip the earpiece out and set it on the ground, turning your attention to Elvis where he lays on the floor in what is quickly becoming a pool of blood.

"You have to stop the bleeding." He growls, grabbing your hand.

"What? Elvis-" Your voice comes out a panic-stricken screech.

"You can do it. You need to cover the wound and then tie something around it to keep it in place."

"Keep it in place? I'll just hold it?" You strip off your vest and press it against the wound, holding it down as tightly as you can.

"You have to tie it in place so you can finish the mission."

"No! I'm not-"

"Listen to me. If you don't finish this, then it's all for nothing. Please. You have to do this. For me." His blue eyes plead with you and you know you can't tell him no. You rip your shirt off and tie the sleeves around him tightly to hold your vest in place on his bullet wound. Left in just your undershirt, you shiver a little, but you'd give every article of clothing to save him.

"I don't think I can do this."

"You can and you will, baby." He reaches up to touch your face, but his fingers are covered in blood. You grab his hand in yours and kiss the back of it. "I love you."

"I love you too. Please don't die." He smiles weakly.

"I'm not plannin' on it. Now go." You snatch the earpiece off the ground and stuff it back in your ear. Giving Elvis one last quick kiss, you stand and look up and down the hallway. You hear someone coming and pray that it's help and not another guard, but just in case it is, you quickly slide into the room and lock the door behind you.

Breathing deeply, you walk to the computer and start your part of the mission. Surprisingly, no one bothers you and you're able to download evidence of West's and the Colonel's treason with no issues. Then, you plant a virus given to you by the tech team at the CIA and watch as their system begins to crumble. That's when the alarms go off.

You sneak back out into the hallway, gun drawn, but there's no one there. Even Elvis is gone and there's nothing but a bloodstain where he was lying. You say another quick prayer that he's been rescued and not found by the wrong people. Miraculously, you make it back up to the roof without having to shoot anyone else. It seems like everyone is too busy dealing with the system crash to find you.

You run to the chopper as it lands on the roof and jump in, expecting to see Elvis there. But he's not. The helicopter is empty except for the pilot. You scream at him that you have to go back, that you're not leaving Elvis behind, but he ignores you, taking off as soon as the door is shut. He can't hear you over the sound of the blades, so he doesn't notice that you cry hysterically the whole way back to Langley.

Back in the building, you stomp and scream at anyone that will listen, begging them to tell you where he is. They shake their heads and tell you they don't know and you become more frantic by the second. Finally, you locate Nine and run to her.

"Where the fuck is he?!"

"Angel, calm down-"

"No. I want to know where he is! Did you leave him there?!" She purses her lips.

"Of course we didn't leave him! He's in surgery. It doesn't look good. If you'd stop screaming, I could take you to the hospital."

"Surgery? No." All of the adrenaline that was keeping you standing is sucked out of you when you realize he may not make it. You fall to the ground weeping quietly. "He's going to die and it's all my fault."

"I said he's in surgery. They're still working. Don't give up on him yet. Come on." She drags you up off the floor and half carries you to her car.

At the hospital, the doctor comes to you to explain what's happening, but all you hear is that he's in critical condition, has lost a lot of blood, and they're not sure they can get him back. You nervously pace the hospital waiting room, chewing your nails until they bleed. Nine watches you, in awe of your dedication to him. Several hours later, she tries to encourage you to take a break.

"Angel, why don't you go take a shower and change. Eat something." For the first time, you realize you're still in your undershirt, dirty and covered in Elvis's blood. You haven't eaten in almost 14 hours.

"I can't leave him."

"Then at least sit down." You nod and drop into the chair next to her, your exhaustion winning out. "You really love him, don't you?"

"I do. I can't lose him."

"I hope you don't." She pats your hand awkwardly. You can tell she's not one for conversations about feelings. But you are grateful that she hasn't left you alone. You're about to tell her as much when the doctor comes back. You immediately stand up and walk to him quickly.

"Doctor, what-"

"He's alive." Your heart skips and you breathe for the first time in hours. "It was touch and go and he has a long recovery ahead of him, but he is alive. I can take you to him."

"God, yes, thank you doctor." He leads you down a hallway to a room. It's dark with lots of beeping machines and you nearly lose it again when you see Elvis laying there on the bed. He seems almost childlike in his vulnerability and it makes you love him even more. You go to his side and sit down, gently taking his hand.

"He won't be awake for a while. You can go home-"

"No. I'll stay." The doctor shrugs.

"Alright, then. Let us know if you need anything." He leaves you alone and you lay your forehead on the bed. The exhaustion hits you and you're sound asleep in minutes.

You wake up to the sun peeking in through the curtains and a nurse there to check his vitals. You sit up quickly and look at him.

He smiles warmly.

"Hey, honey, you're awake."

"I'm awake? You're awake! Why didn't you wake me up?!" He reaches out and caresses your cheek gently.

"You were sleepin' so good, baby. I didn't want to bother ya."

"Elvis Presley, I could slap you right now."

"Please don't. I'm still in a lot of pain." You smile despite yourself and then start to giggle. He tries to laugh with you, but it hurts. Then, your giggles turn to sniffles as the tears start to slide down your cheeks. You wrap your arms around him and kiss him gently on the lips and then on the cheek. "Aw, honey, now why are you crying?"

He catches your tears with his thumbs and wipes them away.

"I thought I'd lost you." He pulls your face down to his and presses his forehead against yours.

"Baby, it's gonna take a lot more than that to get rid of me." You smile and close your eyes. "I love you."

He whispers and you whisper in return.

"I love you too."

******

One year later

You're in the kitchen staring at water and waiting for it to boil when you hear the front door open.

"And just what kind of time do you call this?" You holler to him. He saunters into the kitchen.

"Some of us have real jobs that require paperwork." He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, setting his chin on your shoulder. "We don't all get to work in a cushy office at headquarters."

You turn to face him and he kisses you tenderly.

"Listen, it's not my fault you botched that job and had to fill out a report. The direction I gave you was good, you just weren't listening."

"I was a little distracted. I kept thinking about you naked on top of me last night." You gasp playfully.

"You naughty boy."

"You love me." He kisses you again.

"I do love you, Agent Presley." He smiles and you kiss the end of his nose.

"I love you too, Agent Presley." This time he kisses you deeply, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You completely forget about the water you were waiting to boil as he lifts you into his arms and carries you to the bedroom.

He was right about one thing on the night you met him. You never needed that pink vibrator again.

******

The End!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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