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floralcyanide · 2 years

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Soco Amaretto Lime

Jerry Schilling x Reader Smut

request: congrats on 2k!! could i get 12: “I could make you feel better.” w mister jerry schilling?? i love him sm 🙏🏾 by @dilfelvis

hi its mila!! congratulations on 2k 💕 💕 6. “My tongue still remembers the way you taste.” by @sassy-ahsoka-tano

smut prompt #12: "I could make you feel better."

smut prompt #6: "My tongue still remembers the way you taste."

warnings: gender neutral/ afab!reader, smut, mentions of alcohol, underage alcohol consumption, brief cigarette smoking, inexperience, oral (afab receiving), fingering, oral (m receiving), cum eating, throat fucking, all the fun stuff.

summary: When your new neighbor Elvis Presley becomes your best friend, you meet one of his other friends, Jerry. The two of you share a special night together, only to never see each other again. At least, not for many years. What happens when you finally meet again?

word count: 4317

author’s note: welcome to request 5 of my 2k celebration! I have a soft spot for Jerry so this was super fun to write!! I hope everyone enjoys!! (: also, the timeline in this fic is kinda altered because Jerry would've been 18 in 1960, but for plot purposes, we'll say he was 18 in 1954 instead. also I kinda got carried away with the plot I had in my head so I'm sorry if this is kinda long lmao. also if it doesn't flow smoothly, I wrote half of this on campus earlier, and the rest just now so oop. (I don't feel like proof reading my stuff anymore atp sorry lol)

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here | 2k celebration prompts here | request a prompt here or in my asks.

"I'm gonna stay eighteen forever, so we can stay like this forever.”

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Your neighbor and new best friend, Elvis Presley, was throwing a small get-together at his big house down the road from yours. He’s invited you, insisting that you meet his other friends and family. You oblige, deciding that getting out of the house would be good for you. Besides, you got a nice new outfit you wanted to show off. Maybe you’ll make some new friends.

You’re studying yourself in the mirror, repeatedly fixing your hair to get it just right. You aren’t impressing anyone in particular, but you never know. Dusting yourself off, you head downstairs and bid farewell to your parents as you swing the front door open. You begin your half-mile trek to the Presleys, kicking at rocks in your way every now and then. It’s a mild day temperature-wise, so you aren’t surprised to see Elvis tossing a football back and forth to some of his friends when you finally reach Graceland. Elvis spots you and immediately waves you over to him excitedly.

“Hey! I’m glad you made it,” he yells, tossing the football to one of his buddies before meeting you halfway in the yard, “Let me introduce you to some people.”

You follow Elvis to where his friends are standing and talking amongst each other. They pause when they notice the two of you approach.

“This is cousin Billy,” Elvis gestures to a boy with dark hair, “This is Roger,” he then points to another guy with red hair, but your eyes land on the taller person next to him with sandy hair.

“This is Jerry. Say hi, Jerry,” Elvis slaps a hand onto his shoulder, grinning at you.

“Hi,” Jerry says a bit awkwardly, but you smile at him.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. They live down the road,” Elvis returns to his spot next to you.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N!” Billy says, and Roger nods at you. Jerry remains quiet, looking down at his feet.

“Don’t mind Jerry, he’s a little shy is all,” Elvis jokes, causing Jerry’s face to flush slightly.

“I completely understand. I’m kinda shy too sometimes,” you say, trying to make the sandy-haired boy feel better.

“Now, who wants to play some football?” Elvis grins, motioning for Billy to toss the football back to him.

The five of you play a few football games before Gladys beckons everyone inside to get washed up for lunch. Three of the guys make a beeline to the front door while you hang back with Jerry, who is moving a little slower.

“So,” you say, walking alongside him, “How old are you?”

“I’m eighteen,” he says, glancing over at you, “How about you?”

“Same,” you say, shielding your eyes from the glaring sun, “How do you know Elvis?”

“Believe it or not, we met playing football several years back,” Jerry chuckles, opening up to you a little.

“Really? That’s fun. Do you guys play football a lot?”

“It’s few and far between now that Elvis is getting attention for his singing, but he tries to make time,” Jerry says, opening the door and letting you walk inside ahead of him.

“That’s good! I’m glad Elvis makes time for the little stuff,” you turn around to look at Jerry and walk with him to the washroom.

The both of you take turns washing up before heading to the dining room, where everyone but Billy is seated.

“Billy! Hurry up!” Elvis calls from the table, where everyone has now sat down.

“Imma comin’!” Billy shouts back from the kitchen.

He comes out with a pitcher of sweet tea and carefully sits it down at the center of the table before taking a seat across from Jerry, who is next to you. Everyone enjoys lunch and casually converses, including you and Jerry. You learn a lot about his everyday life, and he learns about yours. Every now and then, you’ll look up to see Elvis smirking at you knowingly. You just roll your eyes at him and look away.

The afternoon seems to go by quickly after lunch. You and the group of guys gather in the living room, and Elvis plays his vinyl collection. You all take turns dancing with each other.

“Would you care for a dance?” Jerry asks abashedly, scratching the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact.

“I’d love to,” you smile, taking Jerry’s offered hand.

The boys all watch the two of you dance in rhythm to the music. Billy nudges Elvis, who is still nose deep in his collection, searching for the next one to play. Elvis observes Jerry and you carefully, a smile growing on his face at the sight of his friends getting along.

The album ends, and Elvis and his friends all clap at your dancing skills, and you take a bow with your face burning in slight embarrassment. Jerry just stands next to you with a blush taunting his cheeks. You glance at the clock, noticing it is almost time for dinner at your house.

“Well, I best get going,” you sigh, turning to Jerry, “It was nice meeting you!”

“You too,” he says, his gaze lingering on you as you bid farewell to everyone else.

As you leave, you wonder if you’ll see Jerry again.

It’s now nearing ten at night, and you’re still in your clothes, lying on your bedroom floor as you listen to your favorite album. All you’ve been able to think about all evening is Jerry. You don’t know him extremely well, but well enough to have taken a liking to him. You wonder if he’s thinking about you the way you’re thinking about him. Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted by a sharp noise. You sit up and look around, unsure where the noise came from. It happens again, and you realize it’s coming from your bedroom window. You quickly get up and go to investigate. Resting your hands on your windowsill, you peer out of the glass, and your eyes fall onto someone standing in the yard.

“Jerry?” you wonder to yourself as you open the window.

“Jerry, what are you doing? It’s late,” you scold, looking behind you to ensure your parents aren’t coming.

“I just wanted to see you,” Jerry shrugs.

You sigh, wondering how you two could hang out without getting caught. Then, you remember your treehouse that’s in the backyard.

“Do you see that treehouse in the back?” you ask quietly.

Jerry steps backward, studying the dimly lit backyard before nodding.

“Meet me there,” you say, fighting a giddy grin.

“Alright,” Jerry says.

You pull away from the window before shutting it, smoothing out any wrinkles on your outfit hurriedly as you look around for your shoes. Before leaving your bedroom, you go to your dresser and fish out a pack of cigarettes you’ve hidden from your parents. You didn’t smoke often, but you thought it’d be fun to do with Jerry if he also smoked.

Shutting your bedroom door quietly, you tiptoe down the hall, down the stairs, and through the living room and kitchen to the back door. You shut the door behind you, sneaking through the dewy grass to the treehouse ladder. You climb up and finally reach the top to see Jerry sitting in the corner, waiting for you.

“Hi,” you say, sitting across from him.

“Hi,” he says back.

You look around the treehouse for a moment before spotting the outline of a lantern you left up there, switching it on. There was enough light for you to see the bottle next to Jerry that he brought with him. You raise an eyebrow.

“Elvis got me a bottle to bring to you,” he says, noticing my curiosity, “But you don’t have to drink it if you don’t wanna.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind it. Do you smoke?”

“Only when I’m drinkin’.” Jerry chuckles.

“Alright,” you grin, handing him the pack of smokes with the lighter.

He offers you the bottle, and you break the seal, taking a swig. Your face twists into disgust as the alcohol burns down your throat, “That’s retched.”

Jerry laughs as he lights up a cigarette, taking a puff before handing it to you and taking the bottle from your hands.

“It’s whiskey, it’s not supposed to taste good,” he jokes.

You shrug, lighting your cigarette and taking a drag, “I don’t drink whiskey, so,” you trail off.

The two of you pass the bottle back and forth, taking puffs of your cigarettes as the bottle begins to empty quickly. You’re both now lying on the treehouse floor, staring up at the stars through the open roof, and you’re giggling over something Jerry had said about Elvis. You’re glad to see Jerry’s shyness slowly slip away the more the two of you drink. You both fall silent, and you start thinking about how you probably won’t see Elvis as much anymore with him becoming more musically successful. This also means you may not see Jerry anymore.

Jerry turns his head away from the sky and looks at you for a moment.

“I can hear you thinking too hard.”

You turn your head to look at him, “I’m just thinking about how I may not get to see Elvis as often since he’s getting famous.”

Jerry hums in response.

“And I may not get to see you as often either.”

This causes Jerry to turn his head back in your direction, his blue eyes scanning your face closely.

“You wanna see me?” he questions, “Usually, people care more about Elvis.”

“Well, I care about him, of course. But I care about you in a different way,” you say, focusing on the stars as if they’ll give you the courage to tell Jerry you like him.

“How so?”

You bite your lip, eyes burning into one particularly bright star, “I kinda like you.”

“Only kinda?” Jerry jokes, trying to lighten your obvious tenseness.

You turn to look at him, rolling your eyes and letting out a scoff, “You know what I mean, Jerry.”

“I do,” he says, “But I’d like to see you prove it.”

“How so?” you say mockingly, repeating his words from moments ago.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“No,” you say, “I really don’t.”

Jerry sits up and offers his hands to pull you up with him. You take them and lift yourself from the wooden floor of the treehouse. You almost don’t want to let go of his hands for a second, but he releases your grasp before you can decide.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Jerry asks, and you furrow your eyebrows.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, I’m trying to ask if you’ve ever kissed anyone without blatantly asking. Because I want you to kiss me.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling heat rise to your cheeks, “You could’ve just asked.”

“You know I’m not good with being out there with other people,” Jerry says, his drunken honesty showing.

“True,” you giggle.

You stare into Jerry’s eyes, moving closer to him.

Both of your knees are pressed against his, your body almost involuntarily moving closer to his because of the intoxicating proximity. The truth is, you’ve kissed a boy before. But not one that you were attracted to like you were with Jerry. You glance down at his lips as you lean into him, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. You close your eyes before letting your lips press to his. And it feels like magic when you do, even if that seems cheesy. Jerry cards his fingers through your hair, pulling you as close as possible. You open your mouth slightly to run your tongue along his bottom lip, and he allows you to slip it inside his mouth. But before you can fully take over the kiss, Jerry dominates your mouth with his tongue. You let him, feeling dizzy with growing lust. You’ve never done anything other than make out in your whole life, so the more intense the kiss gets, the dizzier you feel.

Jerry pulls away for a moment, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“Sorry, I don’t want to move too fast if you don’t want-”

You interrupt Jerry by gently kissing along his jaw, nipping at the skin lightly as he shakily inhales. You return to his lips, kissing him deeply. He returns the kiss with equal passion, his fingers curling into your hair and pulling a little. You quietly moan at the motion, allowing Jerry to slip his tongue back into your mouth. As the kiss gets more heated, you climb onto Jerry’s lap, much to his surprise. He removes his hand from your hair and places both hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin when you press your core against his. Jerry pulls away from the kiss again; this time, his eyes are no longer blue from how large his pupils have grown.

“I uh,” he says, unable to look away from your lips and unable to look you in the eye, “I’ve never done anything like this.”

“Me either,” you say, “I can stop if you want me to-”

“No,” Jerry says, stroking your face, “I want to take care of you.”

Jerry slowly guides you off his lap, “Lay down.”

You do as told, and Jerry hovers over you, giving you a kiss before slowly making his way down your neck. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin until he reaches the top of your shirt. He pulls the hem up to reveal your stomach, where he continues to pepper kisses, and you fight the urge to laugh from how it tickles.

Jerry runs a finger along the waistband of your bottoms, “Is this okay to take off?”

“Yes,” you say, growing slightly nervous.

You’ve never let anyone near you like this before, so you’re a little worried. You’re a little drunk but trust Jerry nonetheless. Besides, sober you wouldn’t allow yourself to be so bold and willing. At least you aren’t alone in not having done anything sexual in your life, so you don’t expect this situation to be perfect. But hopefully, it’ll still be fun. You push your nerves away as Jerry pulls down your bottoms and underwear simultaneously, gently laying them next to your legs. You almost feel the urge to cover up as Jerry has his eyes on your half-naked body. He leans down on his forearms before moving his face downward. You feel his breath against your sensitive skin. Carefully, Jerry licks a stripe up your slit, gathering the small amount of arousal that resulted from the intense make-out session. He circles his tongue experimentally around your clit when he finds it, which makes you let out a shaky moan. It feels too good. Jerry continues the exhilarating movement, going faster as you let out the slightest noise. Your hands fly to his sandy hair when he dips his tongue into you, lapping at the growing wetness. He runs his tongue up and down your slit before gathering up spit and letting it fall onto your bundle of nerves. Jerry then swirls his tongue around it again, nipping at it with his teeth very softly to see how you react. You accidentally let out a loud moan, and your hand covers your mouth quickly. Jerry chuckles before he envelops your clit with his lips, sucking lightly and gauging your reaction with his pupil-blown eyes. You look down at him, your mouth covering your muffled moans. Jerry starts to suck a tad harder, before switching between kitten-licking at the bud and sucking harshly. You try your best not to wiggle around or make any noise, but the way Jerry makes you feel is making it difficult.

Jerry then gathers your slick with a finger, still assaulting your clit as he gently pushes in a finger. When he curls it, you have to bite down on your knuckle to keep quiet. Shortly after, Jerry adds another finger, and then a third as you grow impossibly wetter from the stimulation. He finds the sensitive spot inside of you, rubbing it with his fingers as he licks your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re so close to orgasm, and it’s an intense feeling. Your stomach is in knots, and your body shakes from the newly experienced pleasure. Your thighs clamp around Jerry’s head as the knots come undone, pleasure overcoming you in waves. Your chest heaves as Jerry licks you and his fingers clean. He sits up and watches you twitch from your orgasm, softly running a hand over your thigh.

“That was,” you say shakily, “That was amazing. How did you know to do all of that?”

“I’ve seen some things but have never done it until now,” Jerry says, his face turning red.

He helps you get your bottoms back on after you offer to take care of him. He politely declines, saying it could be saved for next time.

Except, that would be the last time you saw Jerry. Elvis rose to fame very quickly, and Jerry and cousin Billy joined him on tour, and every tour after that. Years go by, and you never forget your first time with Jerry. You don’t blame him for not seeing you again. He had things to do and take care of. When you’re 21, you finally move out to California for school. You finish school and work odd-ended jobs for a few years until you see that an opening for an internship at NBC is available. On your first day as an intern, you meet producer Steve Binder, who offers you a job as his assistant. This job could open doors for you while you get experience. You accept it right away.

One day, Steve excitedly tells you about an idea for a comeback special for Elvis Presley. You perk up at this idea, hoping, after all this time, that you’d be able to see your friend again. It’s been nearly 15 years since you last saw Elvis, and so much has happened since then. It’s also been almost 15 years since you last saw Jerry. You and Steve work together to develop ideas for the special, bouncing stuff back and forth daily.

The day you’ve been waiting for finally arrives when Elvis enters Steve’s office to talk to him. Steve is currently doing something else, so you’re in his office instead, organizing some papers. When Elvis enters the room, you almost don’t hear him.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Your head snaps up at the familiar voice.

“The one and only,” you say, a huge smile spreading across your face, “How have you been?”

Elvis chuckles, walking over to you, “I’ve been dealing. How about you? I never thought I’d see you at NBC.”

“I’ve been wonderful. I came here for university a long time ago and decided to stay,” you explain, and Elvis nods.

“Jerry will be here in a second if you wanna say hi to him,” Elvis says.

“I’d love to,” you say, suddenly feeling nervous at the thought of seeing Jerry again.

You and Elvis continue the conversation until there’s a knock on the doorframe.

“Steve is on his way.”

You look over to see a much older Jerry with longer hair standing in the doorway. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he recognizes you. But before he can say anything, Steve approaches, and everyone dives into a conversation about the special.

You find yourself alone in the hallway outside of Steve’s office after the guys leave, and Steve shows them around the studio. You’re leaning against the wall, flipping through stapled pages of the plan for the special so far. You’re focused on reading until someone taps your shoulder. Turning around, you’re surprised to see Jerry behind you.

“Hi,” you say, surprised.

“Hi,” he says, looking you up and down not-so-subtly.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Jerry looks down, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s alright, I understand,” you say, “You got very busy very fast.”

“You moved away,” Jerry frowns.

“I did. I moved here for school.”

“Makes sense,” Jerry smiles, “I know you wanted to get into this business.”

You’re surprised he remembers anything you told him about yourself.

“You look good,” you say, eyeing Jerry carefully, taking in how much he’s changed. It was obviously a good change. He is still very much attractive to you.

“So do you,” Jerry says, stepping closer to you, “Are you doing anything right now?”

“Not really, just waiting for Steve’s next appointment in,” you glance down at your watch, “About an hour.”

“Wanna kill some time?” Jerry asks, his eyes not tearing away from you.

“What do you suggest?” you ask, trailing your eyes up his body, knowing what he’s hinting at.

“Follow me, and you’ll find out,” Jerry says, offering a hand for you to take.

For a moment, you hesitate. Did you really want to have sex with Jerry? Not to mention you’re in your workplace- did you want to risk getting caught? But you can't say no when his blue, familiar eyes meet yours. So you throw caution to the wind and take his hand.

Jerry leads you to a private restroom toward the basement where no one would likely intrude.

“How romantic,” you joke as he opens the restroom door for you to enter.

When Jerry flips the light on and closes the door while locking it, you get down on your knees. You never forgot about him saying he’d let you take care of him the next time, even if that next time was a decade and a half later. So you were ready. Jerry turns around and looks down at you, surprised at your eagerness.

“You said I could take care of you the next time,” you say, running your tongue along your bottom lip with your face level with his zipper, “It’s now the next time.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” Jerry says, placing a hand under your chin, his fingers gripping it softly.

“Well, you’re the only man who has ever made me cum while eating me out. It’s the least I can do,” you shrug.

It was true. You’ve been in many serious relationships over the years, but none of them could satisfy you with oral. It was a little tragic knowing that the best you ever had was when you were 18 by an inexperienced guy you had just met.

“Really?” Jerry exhales, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“No man has ever made me feel good,” you pout, bringing a finger up to trace the outline of Jerry’s dick in his pants.

“That’s because only I could make you feel better, sweetheart,” Jerry lifts your head with his hand still under your chin, “And I will after you suck me off.”

You look up at him as he unbuttons his pants, pulling them and his underwear down, letting himself spring free. You immediately grab his length, circling your tongue around the tip as you feel him grow harder in your hand. Enveloping Jerry with your lips, you let him slide inside your mouth as far as you could allow him. Jerry’s hands steady your head, his fingers in your hair. With your hand, you pump the rest that wouldn’t fit in your mouth. Jerry’s head hits the restroom door he’s in front of, and a groan bubbles out of his mouth. His tip hits the back of your throat as you bob your head. Your hand and head set a rhythm, both moving back and a little faster with each movement. Jerry has to grip your hair in order not to thrust forward. You let go of his cock for a moment and grab both his hips, pulling them forward, wordlessly telling him you’ll allow him to fuck your mouth.

“Fuck,” Jerry mutters, letting his hips snap forward sloppily.

You nearly gag but breathe through your nose as best as Jerry’s cock slides down your throat. You hollow out your cheeks as your head bobs to his thrusts, creating a delectable rhythm that causes Jerry to moan. He grips your hair to keep your head still, fucking into your mouth quickly as obscene choking noises fill the room. You don’t mind, though. You thought about this experience many times when you were younger. Now that it’s come to fruition, you will gladly be cock drunk. Jerry’s pelvis slams into your face as he gets closer to the edge. You feel him twitching in your mouth with every erratic thrust. Jerry stills his movements, hot spurts of cum shooting down your throat and onto your tongue. Before he can offer a paper towel, you close your mouth and swallow.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I know,” you shrug, “I don’t mind.”

Jerry just looks at you while completely blissed out, pulling his pants up.

“And you don’t have to make me feel better right now,” you say, standing up and dusting off your knees, “Maybe dinner first, and then you can make me feel better.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Jerry says.

You walk to the mirror to check your reflection, knowing you probably look like a wreck. Jerry walks behind you, running his hands along your hips as you wipe away the tears that gathered in the corners of your eyes from choking.

“You know,” Jerry leans into your ear, “My tongue still remembers the way you taste.”

A shiver runs up your spine at his words, “If you don’t shut your trap, I’ll take you right here and now, Schilling.”

“Sounds like a deal,” he smirks.

“I think I’m rather hungry, though. Do you think you could behave for a few more hours?” you tease, staring at him through the mirror’s reflection.

“I can, just as long as you behave too,” Jerry says.

“Sounds like a deal,” you repeat his words with a smile.

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