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[optimisticgrey]

WIP Wednesday

I feel lost this week. What are you working on? Show me. Talk to me about it.

no pressure tag @dearest-and-nearest @perpetualmaladaptivedaydream @stupidsexywizard @starlightweave @nw39

NSFW so, ya know. MDNI. The whole thing.

You move against him with a hunger that feels older than words, each breath drawing him deeper until you can no longer tell where your need ends and his begins. Halsin steadies you with a low sound, warm and unhurried, one broad hand resting at the small of your back. His touch anchors you, guides you, with the same care he would offer a wounded creature that still carries fire in its heart.

When he fills you completely, the breath leaves you in a shudder, trembling with the ache of reunion. It feels like coming home after a long and uncertain journey — the weight of him, the warmth, the steady pulse that reminds you that you are here, alive, safe. The distance between you dissolves until there is nothing left but shared breath and the soft rhythm of belonging.

You sit astride him, your arms drawn behind you, held easily in one of his great hands. Your braid is looped through his fingers, a quiet tether meant not to bind but to hold you steady, to draw out every shiver, every heartbeat.

Bound like this — unable to move, unable to do anything but feel — your body answers him in waves, trembling with the mix of yearning and surrender. The air tastes of autumn and rain; his scent fills your lungs, grounding you even as the world blurs.

“Gods…” you breathe, voice catching between pleasure and wonder. “You feel...so good…”

[from-memphis-with-love]

Chapter 5

The tinny trill of the alarm clock awoke Frannie from her dead sleep.

Though it was morning, the room was pitch black, its thick velvet curtains drawn, nobody having bothered to open them. Not without protest, she squinted her eyes. Her head was pounding with a throbbing pain that came and went while a low, steady ache remained. It felt like there was a balloon in her skull, slowly inflating, the pressure mounting with every breath. She was tangled in her cotton sheets, unable to move except to blink slowly and adjust to her woken state. 

The unnatural rrrrriiiiiiiippp of her foot running across her sheets told her she was still wearing her heels from last night. Her mouth dry and sticky with saliva, she licked her lips and retreated into the comforter. Sleep had almost reclaimed her when as if out of nowhere, the frigid water of regret splashed her in the face.  

Last night. What in the world did I do? 

Instinctively, her hands snapped up to hide herself, the theatrics of teenage rebellion coming back like muscle memory. Though her mamma was long gone, Frannie could swear she was somewhere out there. A ghostly apparition in a housecoat shaking her head in disapproval, hands clasped in prayer and eyes turned toward God. Though it no longer came from this mortal plane, her mother’s voice rung out as clear as a bell. “Good girls don’t do that, Francesca. Good girls don’t go with just any guy.” 

Good girls grew up to get married, perpetually stir the sauce, get fat ankles, and make babies—and only in that order. 

Good girls only went to school until necessary—because why waste learning on girls?—and set their expectations in life low.  

Good girls stayed in Brooklyn because Manhattan was for druggies and miscreants and so-called career girls who, God forgive them, had no use for marriage and babies. 

And good girls definitely did not do whatever it was that Francesca Ferrara got up to last night. Just the same, her pounding headache snapped her right back to reality. To hell with being a good girl, she spoke to a mother that wasn’t there, and I happen to like living in Manhattan.

Mustering all her force, she raised out of bed. Once on her feet, the room was a ship swaying on the sea, causing her to lose her balance and reach for the wall. Her hand slipped on the glossy chinoiserie wallpaper, and she careened to the carpet with a clumsy thump. The room spun before becoming stationary again and she used her headboard to right herself. Obviously, her headache and nausea meant she’d had some fun the night before but somehow, she couldn’t remember a thing. Now, removing her fingers one by one from her face, she found her vermillion lipstick had transferred to them.

I must have come right home and passed out. 

Perhaps she stayed too late at Rothman’s chatting with her friends and had a little too much to drink. They were always good for a laugh; heaven knows she’d needed to wind down a little. Yeah, that’s it. I just got a little carried away is all, she consoled herself as the room tilted viciously.

Her stomach lurched and gurgled, sending her crashing back to the bed in a tangle of wayward limbs and knocking her purse off the nightstand. A small-folded paper fluttered to the ground. One look at it told her all she needed to know. 

You can find me at the Statler Hilton. Dial NY 1-2793 and ask for “Zorro.”

Zorro? Suddenly it clicked. The man in the mask. The man with the rose. 

Through broken shards of memory, she was beginning to piece together what had happened the night before. Frannie remembered going to Rothman’s party and indulging in a little too much champagne when a strange man had approached her. He had made a corny joke about that singer. Just as she remembered, he was wearing a mask and sporting a red rose on his collar. 

Oh God, the blind date. That was my blind date!

She remembered glimpses of the night. Bumping into the man, his strong, heaving chest underneath her searching fingers. Flashes of glossy raven hair and plump fleshy lips. An errant hand riding up her skirt. His elegant, lithe body leaning in the doorway. The scent of grapefruit and jasmine. The wild kiss they shared like two beggars fighting over found treasure. His mouth going down, down, down to her… No. She shook her head. It was too delicious, too scandalous. Too shameful. 

Taking a shaky breath, she reached a trembling hand to the phone. I have to know who he is. I have to call him. And then I’ll never do this again, she lied to herself. Frannie wanted so desperately to see this man without a mask, to know him and join their bodies together again. All the same, the shame of it was such that she wouldn’t actually dare calling. She withdrew her fingers, balling them up into a fist in her lap. 

Outside, the city air was fresher than usual, almost sweet and floral as rush hour subsided and the pace of the day relaxed to a steadier rhythm. With steely determination, Frannie headed for the bathroom, washed her face, ran a comb through her hair and made herself as presentable as possible. She selected a demure, brown wool coat and changed into more comfortable shoes. Getting up to leave, she turned back to look at the note on the nightstand. 

Without thinking of it anymore, Frannie grabbed it and threw it into the drawer. 

Behind dark sunglasses, Frannie slinked into a corner booth at Uncle Bill’s Diner. 

It felt as if she’d entered a dreamland what with the happy chatter, the fragrances, and the cozy warmth of the open kitchen. In the buzz of the diner, words were challenging to catch but every so often she’d read the body language of those around her. The couple in the booth across from hers were obviously fighting, their hushed tones belying the seriousness of their disagreement. The bespectacled young man at the counter was nervously waiting for someone—probably a girl—and checking his watch every few minutes, his hand shaking each time he raised coffee cup to mouth. 

She was just starting to feel better when suddenly the floor shook with the stomp of little feet, accompanying the percussion of the hangover banging into her skull. They all congregated at the neon jukebox near Frannie's booth. She scanned the menu, but the baseline nausea due to last night’s revelry mixed with the cacophony of 10 pre-teen voices killed whatever appetite she’d come in with.

The waitress appeared, voicing what Frannie thought was a request for her drink order. She closed the menu and rubbed at the ache behind her eyes. “Black coffee?” she begged. 

Her head in her hands, she hardly had time to notice the clink! of the coin being shoved into the music machine by a pigtailed little girl. A slow, melodious guitar riff filled the room, accompanied by the dulcet tones of the Jordanaires singing backup. In the clatter of the restaurant, she hadn’t even realized it was an Elvis song, just that it provided a temporary distraction from her headache. 

She stared at her reflection in the black coffee, its ripples reflecting back a distorted image. 

“Ssshhh!” the little girl playfully hit her friend on the shoulder, “this is when he talks. I wanna hear him talk!”

Just as she promised, Elvis’ voice filled the clatter of the restaurant, rising above the din of clanging plates, percolating coffee, and scratching silverware. The little girls squealed in delight.

I wonder if you're lonesome tonight You know someone said that the world's a stage and each of us must play a part Fate had me playing in love with you as my sweetheart Act one was where we met I loved you at first glance You read your lines so cleverly and never missed a cue

Holy shit.

As if by sheer reflex, Frannie dropped her spoon. It met the cold, Formica tabletop with a clang that reverberated through her entire body. She froze. 

She knew that voice. Hell, she’d been around that voice. For six weeks, almost 24 hours a day, she’d heard that voice joking, laughing, arguing, and even taunting her when she’d missed a line. She’d heard it in all its permutations from sadness to elation and back again; she’d even heard it whispering sweet nothings at pretty extras and yelling during rowdy football matches with his friends. 

And she most definitely heard that voice purring against her ear last night. Heard it humming between her thighs. It was like warm honey drizzled over a pat of butter. She tingled at the thought.  

A wave of glacial clarity washed over her. It was him. Elvis was her blind date. It all made sense now—the hair, the accent, the cologne, the stupid, corny joke. Even a fool could have seen it was him. She must have been drunk off her ass to not realize it.

It all meant that she and Elvis—no, she couldn’t bear it. Frannie crossed her legs, trying in vain to quiet the searing white heat. Snatching a crumpled single from her purse, she placed it onto the table and ran for the door.

Autumn in New York brought infinite hues of reds and golds and yellows, the palate of a season without end, each vivid shade complementing the other and together more beautiful than alone. Inside, the same gold color was mimicked by the curtains and carpet of the sumptuous presidential suite of the Statler Hilton. Though alone in the palatial room, Elvis felt the walls closing in on him, his thoughts consumed by the previous night's events.

From the moment he walked up to the woman at the party, he was absolutely convinced. For six weeks, he'd studied every bit of Frannie and would have known her anywhere. From the gentle swing of her hips to her specific shade of chestnut locks, he knew it was her, mask or no mask. Seeing the golden M pendant nuzzled between her pert breasts as they embraced took him right over the edge. It was a lucky thing that waiter knocked on the door when he did, otherwise Elvis might have just passed out in her arms.

He needed to speak to Frannie. Needed to see her again and tell her his true feelings. But by mid-afternoon, no call had come for him and he was abuzz with anxiety. 

He wanted to go out and take a walk to clear his head, but each time he popped out onto the balcony, flashbulbs made it hard for him to see. From the sound of the street below, he knew the sidewalks were teeming with journalists, photographers, and the general public. Everyone was clamoring to get a view of him. Returning inside, he decided to put his nervous energy to good use. 

One of the best things about being Elvis Presley was information. Everyone wanted it, but he could get it. With little resistance, he made a few strategic phone calls. Before he knew it, he was dialing Frannie Ferrara’s office, sweat forming on his perfect brow. A sunny voice on the other line greeted him.

“Good afternoon. Thank you for calling Double F Enterprises. How may I assist you?” He noticed that the tone of it was bright and breezy, just like Frannie’s. 

“H-hi. This is Elvis Presley calling for Miss Ferrara. Is she in?” As if Connie didn’t know who it was by his molasses-tinged drawl. Elvis was calling for her sister! Her plan had worked. She smiled widely, her cats-eye glasses rising up with the wrinkle in her nose. 

Talking to him was still a thrill for her—and even more so as he’d caught her off guard. She was just coming back lunch when the trill of the phone greeted her; two minutes later and she might have missed the call. That thought tickled her—it was all she could do to stifle the butterflies in her stomach. “Unfortunately, Miss Ferrara is not in right now. May I take a message for you?”

“Well,” Elvis paused, running a hand through his hair. “I-I spent a wonderful evening at a party with her last night and promised I’d pick her up today for lunch.” He lied, but it was the only way to make the call plausible. The woman on the other line didn’t need to know he’d intended to ravage Frannie again at some point. “Only thing is, I lost the darn paper she wrote her address on. S’pose you could give it to me? I’d surely be glad if you would.” 

Connie was pleased but apprehensive. She was positive it was the real deal calling. Yet, all the same, she wasn’t quite comfortable giving her sister’s address out. Suddenly, an idea came to her.

“Mr. Presley, it’s not like I don’t believe you, but I can’t just give my boss’ address out all willy-nilly. Could I ask you a question or two before I tell you?”

Smart girl, Elvis nodded to himself, and by the silence on the other line Connie could tell he wasn’t protesting. 

“What were you both wearing on your lapels last night?”

Without hesitation, he answered. “Red roses. And we both had on masks and, well, Frannie—I mean, Miss Ferrara—had the loveliest little pearl dress on.”

Right answer. 

Connie caved. “Okay, go get a pen and paper. Write this down.”

[mothdruid]

Morning After

pairing: robert ‘bob’ floyd x fem!reader

summary: while at the hard deck you meet a shy guy, but get him to loosen up with some shots. when you two walk home you learn who he is, Bob. Bob goes on the fuck your brains out that night, even stays over at your place. he quickly leaves in the morning, only for you to meet back up somewhere unexpected.

wc: 4.5k

warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, fluff at the end, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal fingering, blow job, cum play, spit play, pet names (angel), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, bob fucks.

a/n: i've been cooking this one up for awhile and had it as an idea for even longer. this is my little crack at the bob fucks idea.

“What are you? A wallflower?” The words come out of your mouth with a particular tone, not one that you had initially intended. Alcohol always tends to do this, making you a bit more loose and unaware of your actions. It was such a drastic change from your normally reserved nature. Phoenix had always teased you about it, saying you became a completely different person when you drank. Eyes narrowed at you behind the glasses, his eyebrows knitting together. But there was a confused smile to the questioning look, one that made your heart flutter. 

“I don’t really know what that means.” A rosy flush tinted his cheeks, taking a drink from his beer bottle. You raised an eyebrow, questioning his reply. A gentle smirk pulled at his lips while he looked at your expression. “What?” 

“Are you being serious?” All of it was too cute. The way his lips curved into that half smile, words barely forming in his mouth. He took a sip of his beer while shaking his head no. “Like you know,” you nudged his arm with your elbow while your brain buzzed, “someone who knows everything but isn’t a part of it. Stays on the wall of things.” He raised his eyebrows again, biting at his lower lip while you watched him. 

“I mean, kind of.” A bit of nervousness laced those words, pointing out that you might have hit some form of nerve. A pang of guilt shot through you, the weight of your words finally catching up.

“Hey, I’m really sorry. I… I shouldn’t have said anything.” A soft look settled on his features, taking in your apology.

“No, you’re good. My friends are alway on my ass about not putting myself out there. I don’t mind, it was just an observation anyways.” You couldn’t help but stare as he adjusted his glasses, pushing the wire frames back up the bridge of his nose. You offered him an awkward smile before taking a drink from your beer. You leaned up against the wall next to his chair, the two of you silently deciding to watch the room together. It had seemed that your friends disappeared from the bar, or maybe your brain just wasn’t registering them anymore. That’s when an idea popped into your brain. 

“Do you wanna go do a shot? Maybe two?” He was mid drink of his beer when the words hit him. His eyebrows knitted together slightly, a look of thought on his face. You watched the him intently, finishing off the drink in your cup. 

“Ah, sure.” 

-

“Eight hours? How?” A tone of shock was laced in your words, your facial features reflecting the same level of shock.

“It was a big lego set! Like,” he paused for a moment to think, “a lot of pieces.” The two of you laughed at the thought of it. The both of you were five shots later and giggling all over the bar of the Hard Deck. The two of you had chatted about mundane things at first but slowly ventured out. The conversation had covered movie favorites to TV show horrors. Lego sets were the new topic, a personal favorite of the new man that had captured your heart tonight. 

The two of you were beyond the point of driving, making you thank yourself for getting a rental unit close to the bar. You knew this man wasn’t able to drive either, not sure whether his friends had also ditched him like yours had. The intention of the night wasn’t to bring someone back home with you. But after being the one who suggested the shots, you felt obligated to take care of him. Bringing him home would be simply that, taking care of him. 

A source of warmth brushed your thigh, pulling you from your thoughts instantly. The look on his face had changed when you weren’t paying attention. It was a soft look but different from all of his other ones, but with a hint of lust. A heat filled your cheeks, his eyes meeting yours. His hand settled on your thigh, not leaving its place this time. The warmth from his palm radiated into you, making you borderline nuclear. 

“This is gonna sound weird, but do you wanna crash at mine?” It was his turn for his cheeks to fill with heat, a blush blossoming over them. Lips parting slightly then closing again, his words not forming in his mouth. Panic had started to creep its way into you. “If you don’t want to though I get it-” 

“I’d love to.” A flutter in your chest was all you felt, the panic melting away. He hopped off his bar stool, the hand on your thigh lifting off for only a second. He offered his hand out to you, taking it as you got off your own bar stool. The both of you fished out bills to leave the bartender before leaving. 

The cool air was sobering, helping your brain start processing that you were bringing this man home with you. This man that you hadn’t learned the name of yet. “Wait, wait, wait.” The walk had barely started, the both of you on the shoulder of the road until you hit the sidewalk. One of his eyebrows cocked up, a questioning look on his face. “You’re not gonna kill me right? Cause like I don’t even know your name, and now you’re coming home with me and I just have too much going to die like this.” Word soup. Another favorite trait you acquired when drunk. 

A strong silence hung between the two of you, a car passing by to break it. A giggle started emanating from him, making it your turn to have a questioning look. The wrinkles near his eyes made your heart warm, the almost undetectable shake of his head catching your eye. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close into his chest as he started walking the two of you down the side of the road again. 

“I’m not gonna kill you, I promise.” A small pause had you, metaphorically, on the edge of your seat. “But my name is Bob.” 

Bob stumbled through the doorway behind you, hands low on your back. Bob walked a little bit further into the foyer of your house. After you closed the door you pressed your back onto it, you watched Bob lean against the wall. His jaw was tipped up towards the ceiling, staring into the dark abyss. Your fingers crept over to the light switch, flicking the switch and illuminating the area. 

“Wowza.” The light seared Bob’s eyes, him squeezing them shut. A giggle crept up inside you, pushing off the door you walked over to him. Bob rolled his head to look at you, opening one eye open. “What are you laughing about?” A big smile tugged at his lips, his body turning to meet yours. The two of you burst out into a laugh, his arm reaching out and pulling you closer to him. 

Heat bubbled up into your cheeks, cerulean orbs staring into your own. A gulp was audible, not sure whether it came from you or Bob. One of his hands trailed up, a finger ghosting over your cheek. The warmth of his body covered yours, sending a small shiver down your spine. Your gaze flicked to his lips then back up to his eyes. Bob leaned in close, his hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. Suddenly, he was pulling away from you, hand gently resting on your face now. 

“I.. I’m sorry.” A worried look had settled onto his features. Your hand covered Bob’s as you looked at him. 

"Sorry for what?" Alarms had started going off in your brain. Did you do something wrong? Was bringing him back a mistake? Was he actually going to kill you?

"I…" A softness gathered in his eyes now. "I was gonna kiss you." Your heart fluttered at his words, the heat in your cheeks burning more intensely. “But.. we are inebriated.” It was cute, his use of such a technical word. You shifted a little bit closer to him, only mere inches in between your bodies. You moved to the balls of your feet, pressing your forehead to Bob’s. That perfect cerulean gaze meeting yours. 

“Kiss me.” There was a small pause before you felt his lips met yours. It was a gentle kiss, one that you would have expected from a man like him. Bob slowly backed you up against the wall, his one hand staying on your cheek while the other moved to your hip. The hint of alcohol still lingered on the both of you, becoming drunk on each other now. His hips pressed towards you, pinning you against the wall. 

Fingers threaded into Bob’s hair, bumping his glasses and making them go slightly askew. His tongue moved over your bottom lips, asking for permission to slide into your mouth. Your lips parted for him, allowing his tongue to swirl around yours, exploring your mouth freely. You pressed your hips into his, rolling them up against his. The hand on your cheek moved along your jaw, pushing back some hair back from your face. 

Slowly the two of you undressed each other. A trail of clothes led from the foyer to your bedroom; you flicked the lights on when you passed the door frame of the room. Both your brains were still in a haze from the alcohol. His lips were like fire against your skin, nipping and mouthing the skin of your neck. One hand cradled your face while the other wrapped around your body; palm pressing between your shoulder blades. The pressure of his palm kept you pressed tight against him. The edge of your bed pressed into the back of your knees.

You climbed onto the bed, waiting for Bob to meet you on it. The only article of clothing left to take off were his boxer briefs. You sat on the edge of the bed, fingers toying with the band of his boxer briefs. Bob’s mouth was slightly agape, watching your fingers hook under the elastic band. His cheeks reddened even more, gaze stuck on your fingers as they started to drag his underwear down. His cock sprang free, tip glistening with a small amount of precum. 

“That feels so good.” A shaky breath left Bob as he felt your tongue lap at his cock. His hand rested on the back of your head; guiding you slowly as you started bobbing up and down his cock. You looked up at him through your lashes, seeing him adjust his glasses. A moan fell from his mouth every now and then. 

You let your spit start to drool down your chin, gathering at the curve of your jaw. Bob brought his free hand to your mouth, groaning while his thumb gathered the drool on your chin. He moved his thumb around your lips, stretched out around his cock as you looked up at him. 

“I could stare at you like this forever.” Bob let out a raspy groan when you pulled off of him, tongue dragging along the underneath of his cock. 

“That so?” It was the first thing that passed your lips, a small challenge to him. Bob smirked, his thumb rubbing spit on your bottom lip. 

“Let me taste you.” Bob’s words were barely above a whisper, almost begging you. His thumb stayed on your lip as you nodded. He sank down onto his knees, both of his hands trailing down your chest. You draped your legs off the bed, him settling between them. His hands palmed at your breasts, thumbs rubbing your nipples. He leaned in, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. 

Bob felt like he was in heaven when your back arched, pressing your chest further into his face. Having someone of this beauty want him? It shocked him. But he kept swirling his tongue around your nipple, his other hand trailing down to your clothed cunt. He let out a moan when he pressed his fingers against your cunt, feeling how wet you were. 

“Got this wet from blowing me?” Bob questioned, kissing down your sternum and stomach. 

“Got a little excited,” you lifted your hips to help him pull your panties off, “at the idea of you inside me.” Bob kissed his way back up your leg, starting at your mid calf and ending on the inside of your thigh. His lust blown eyes stared at you through his glass. He flattened his tongue and dragged it through your folds. You dropped your head back, holding yourself up on your elbows. 

Bob kept up with these languid licks for only a moment longer. He started flicking his tongue against your clit, making you whine loudly. Bob brought his arms around your thighs, locking you in place against his mouth. He kept up his assault, randomly alternating the flicks and stroke of his tongue. At some point you had laid back completely on the bed, back arching hard when he sucked on your clit. 

“Oh my..” Your mouth was agape, moans and his name flowing freely from it. His right hand left your thigh, snaking up to your breast and squeezing it. 

“You sound like an angel.” Bob moaned, keeping his focus on your clit. His other hand left your thigh, coming down and pushing a finger inside of you. Your walls clenched around the finger, him thrusting it in tandem with his licks. Your hand moved down to his hair, almost catching his glasses in the process. Fuck, those glasses were really doing a number on you. 

A second finger entered you, then a third quickly. They were pushing and prodding against that sensitive spot inside of you. “Bob,” you looked down at him, “please..” 

“Let go, angel.” It quickly became too much, your orgasm rocking through you. You clenched around his fingers like a vice grip, his tongue giving languid strokes to your clit. Your legs began to shake as Bob kept going, not stopping anytime soon. His fingers kept working you while he started flicking his tongue on your clit again. 

“Fu-ck, Bob!” You grabbed at his hair, pulling it hard enough to get his mouth off you. His fingers followed soon after, an empty feeling replacing them. Bob audibly gulped as he looked at you, shaking and already thoroughly fucked. A small kiss was pressed to the inside of your thigh, Bob resting his head against the expanse of your exposed inner thigh. The thin metal frames of his glasses pressing into your skin. A comforting smile was on Bob’s lips, making your heart melt as your orgasm finally started to subside. 

“That… was amazing.” You whispered as you laid back on the bed, your hands settling on your stomach. Bob placed a few more kisses on your thigh, moving up your stomach to meet you face to face. Your hands cupped his face, pulling him down into a kiss. Your fingers played with the metal frames of his glasses slightly. There was a small devilish smirk on his face when he broke the kiss. 

"I'm glad you liked it," his arm snaked under your lower back, "but I'm not finished yet." There was that confidence he liked to keep hidden away. His arm tightened around your waist, hiking you up on the bed more. Bob had you in the middle of your bed quickly, settling himself between your legs. 

"I shouldn't need these anymore." Bob took off his glasses, setting them on the right bedside table. Bob leaned down and captured your lips again. His forearm was near your head, holding up a majority of his weight. Your legs were spread out for him, one of either side of his waist. One hand traveled up and down your sides, soothing and calming you while moving his cock closer to your cunt. 

"You ready?" Bob questioned with a peck to your cheek. 

"More than ready." Bob brought the hand from your side down to his shaft, lining himself up. Bob kept his eyes on your face, watching how your eyes fluttered when he ran himself through your folds. The head of his cock rubbing on your clit, sending small waves of pleasure through you. 

"Bob." It was a plea. You didn't want teasing, you wanted him stretching you out. Bob bit his lower lip and nodded, the tip of his cock pressing at your entrance. 

The stretch of his cock had your head thrown back. Bob let out a soft groan when he sank inside of you. Your warmth welcomed him more and more until he bottomed out. His eyes followed down your chest, watching your chest rise and fall. He brought his hand to the side of your thigh, hiking it up further on his hip. Bob nuzzled into your neck, nipping and kissing at the skin. 

"So tight." Bob practically whimpered, his hips slowly pulling back just to slowly press forward. The slow thrusts were agonizing. One of your hands threaded through his hair, your other arm draping around his shoulders. Just as you were about to say something, his thrusts picked up. 

Moans poured from your mouth, the head of his cock zeroing in on the sensitive spot inside you. Your walls were clenching hard around him, encouraging Bob to fuck you a little harder. Bob pulled back from your neck, watching your face for a moment. "Wanna see you." 

Suddenly, his thrusts stopped. Bob got up and sat back on his heels, keeping your legs spread wide apart. You were at his mercy now, your entire body on full display for him. "This way I can see all of you." 

Without hesitation Bob pressed back into you, resuming the pace he was previously at. That sensitive spot being targeted once more. Your hands dug into the comforter underneath you, back arching with pleasure. 

It felt like his whole world was spinning, watching you underneath him was beyond intoxicating. Bob watched his cock push in and out of you, watching it stretch you open. The way your tits bounced with every forward thrust had his mouth watering. Groans flowed from him as he watched you become more fucked out. 

"You're so fucking pretty." Bob grabbed your legs and set them up on one of his shoulders. His arms tightened around them, keeping your legs closed and tight. The sounds of skin smacking and your wet cunt filled the room. You felt that familiar sensation of an orgasm approaching. 

Bob knew you were close again, the clenching of your walls signaling it. Bob started thrusting harder, pounding the sensitive bundle. "Bob, I- oh fuck! Bob!" You tightened around his cock, your orgasm crashing hard. His cock slid in and out of you, fucking you through your orgasm. 

"That's it, that's it angel." Bob cooed, talking and fucking you through it. But his hips never slowed, keeping you at some form of high still. Bob moved your legs so one was on each of his shoulders. He watched himself fuck into you for a moment, his eyes flicking to yours. 

Bob’s head fell back, his thrusts never faltering as he let out a loud breath. You dragged your hands down his abdomen, “Bob, oh my-” 

“One more, I need one more.” The hand on your left calf moved to your clit, thumb rubbing tight circles on the sensitive bud. He started thrusting faster, keeping the circles tight and quick on your clit. The tightness in your abdomen had already returned, the overstimulation pushing out a rolling orgasm. 

When your insides clenched around his cock this time Bob lost it. His hips started to stutter while whimpers fell from his lips. Your hands were both now gripping the comforter, borderline screams falling from your lips. His whimpers turned to groans as his orgasm arrived. Bob pulled his cock out, leaving you empty. He pressed his cock between your folds, rubbing it between them. He unloaded himself all over your clit and cunt, spreading his cum all through your folds. 

Bob whimpered out a small ‘fuck’, watching himself fuck his cum through your folds. Your hips shook with pleasure, the slick wet feeling of his cum making you clench. Bob’s hands moved to your legs, rubbing the outside of your legs soothingly. He stopped his movements, looking down at you with an equally fucked out look. You finally registered his new look. 

A deep red blush covered his chest to cheeks, hair tousled and messy, with a thin layer of sweat covering him. He sat back on his heels, tilting his head to the side and cocking an eyebrow. His chest was rising and falling fast as he regulated his breathing. “Sorry..” Your eyebrows knitted together at his apology, wondering why he would be apologizing. 

“Why?” 

“Was it too much?” Bob asked, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee. You took in a deep breath, trying to regulate your own breathing. 

“No, it was really hot.” You smiled as he removed himself from you. Bob laid down next to you, staring at you as you looked at him. “Huh?” 

“Nothing, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” You rolled your eyes, surprised that the man that just fucked your brains out would think he didn’t please you. “Uh.. where can I.. clean up?” 

It was cute, watching him now slightly awkwardly ask for the clean up. You nodded your head and started sitting up, Bob quickly getting up to help you. Your legs were still shaky as Bob helped you walk to the bathroom. 

The two of you cleaned up, Bob being as gentle as possible when he cleaned his come off you. The warm washcloth helped soothe the now slightly raw flesh between your legs. Bob quietly waited outside of the bathroom, waiting for you to pee so he could help walk you back to bed. Bob helped you back to the bed, the both of you slipping on your undergarments and you putting on a big t-shirt before climbing under the covers. The two of you quickly fell asleep, Bob holding you from behind tightly.

The loud noise of the alarm woke the two of you up. Bob sat up swiftly, surprised by the unfamiliar surroundings. You reached out, hand soothingly rubbing his thigh. “Hey, it’s okay.” Bob gave you a weak smile, laying back down next to you. The two of you laid there for a few minutes before getting up. You watched as Bob gathered his clothes, dressing himself after finding them all. 

“Do you wanna stay for breakfast?” Bob shook his head no. 

“I’d love to,” he moved to grab his glasses from the side table, “but I can’t. I gotta go get ready for work.” He offered you a weak smile, hating having to turn down your offer. You gave him a smile, getting out of bed and walking him to the door. You gave him a goodbye kiss before he left. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” You asked. Bob gave you another smile, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

Your morning moved by quickly, shower, breakfast, memories from last night, driving to work. The typical things in your routine. You sat in your car before getting out, thinking about the events of your night. God, you really hoped to see Bob again. If not, at least he gave you a memorable night. 

“Quiet this morning, Howler.” Phoenix teased while zipping up her flight suit. “Where’d you disappear to last night?” 

“Home. I went home.” You zipped up the front of your suit. 

“With?” 

“You wouldn’t know him.” You really didn’t want her to know about your escapade last night. Halo chuckled at the two of you.

“Chances are high, if he is a pilot I mean.” 

“That’s why.” The three of you giggled as you all finished up. All of you made your way to the hanger, seeing the typical two person tables set up. A few people were already sitting down at the tables. Hangman, Coyote, and someone you didn’t know. They turned around and it hit you. Bob. The man how fucked your brains out was sitting in front of you. His eyes flicked between all of you, landing on you last. They were glued to you, making you stop in your tracks. Of course this would happen, why wouldn’t it?

“What? You scared, Howler?” Jake yelled out, eyes drifting down your stare to Bob. He cocked an eyebrow, staring at the both of you. Hangman didn’t say anything else, turning to make a snide comment at Phoenix. You swiftly made your way to the table behind Bob.

“What the fuck?” You whispered. Bob was bright red, his embarrassment obvious. The confidence he had last night being tucked away.

“I didn’t.. you’re a pilot?” Bob questioned, adjusting his glasses and trying to keep his gaze low while the two of you talked. 

“You are too, apparently.” Bob smiled awkwardly, giving a small nod. You couldn’t help but admire how cute he looked like this. 

“Gonna introduce me to your friend?” Rooster joked when he sat down next to you. Bradley nudged your arm with his elbow in an encouraging way. 

“This.. this is Bob. He is a..”

“WSO. I’m a WSO.” Phoenix pulled that chair next to Bob out, a big grin on her face. Fuck, she knew. 

“My most recent backseater.” Her grin painful to you. The teacher started the class, silencing the conversation you all were having.

The class felt like it dragged on. You needed it to end, needed to talk to Bob. Privately. When all of you were dismissed you leaned over your table, getting a knowing smirk from Rooster and Phoenix. Bob turned around when you tapped him on his shoulder. His cheeks were still rosy, making you wonder if he had been blushing all class. “You, me, private.” Bob nodded and got up, the two of you awkwardly excusing yourself from the group for a moment. 

The both of you were silent in the side hallway for a moment. He was facing you on one side of the hallway, you leaning against the other side. “So..” You lead.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you.” Bob apologized, making your heart break a little. 

“Don’t apologize. I didn’t say anything either.” You said, not wanting him to feel bad. There was nothing wrong with either of you forgetting to mention that you were pilots. “It’s not like we knew we’d be in this group together.” Bob took a few step towards you. His right hand grabbing your left hand, fingers lacing between yours. A smile crept on your lips at his affection. It was something you could get used to. 

“At least now we get to see each other again.” Bob’s words were sincere and full of affection. His heart fluttered as he watched you.

“Yeah, I guess we do.” You heard some footsteps, the both of you looking down the hallway to see Natasha. 

“Hurry up you two! We are getting ready to head up!” Once she stepped out of sight Bob pressed a kiss to your cheek. It was your turn for a heat to fill your cheeks at the gesture. A happiness spreads through you, glad that he was going to become a constant in your life.

[pastorpresent]

Just Let Me Adore You.

[ you can't watch what their doing to him any more. He's overworked. Exhausted, and pumped full of pills to keep awake. ]

TW: mention of drug use, vomiting, blood, mild sexual content.

Elvis/YN, or Austin!Elvis/YN if preferred

"Where is he?"

Your voice is sharp, demanding, and Vernon looks fearful almost as he takes a small step behind the colonel.

"Don't get all twisted up, sweetness. He's resting, was a big show tonight."

You didn't think you could hate anyone quite as much as you hated the man in front of you. From the minute he stepped into the picture, he only had one intention: bleed Elvis dry for everything he had.

It didn't matter how much you tried to warn him. Elvis saw him as a second father figure of sorts, and refused to say a bad word about the old bastard.

You had no such qualms.

"I want to see him, you twisted monster," you spat, glare hardening.

The ridiculous show schedule they had him on was taking its toll. Tonight more than ever. He looked awful up there, even if he did sing and perform just as perfect as ever, but even that made your chest ache. He would kill himself before he would let down his fans. You could see it backstage, between songs, where he would all but stumble to the waiting chair, letting them slip him pills and needles and shoving his face in ice water until he was gasping for breath, hurriedly reapplying his eyeliner before the next song.

He was dead on his feet. A puppet on strings doing everything he was told, consequences be damned.

"Now listen to me-"

"Let her in," that was Vernon's tired voice cutting in, avoiding your face, but you could see the guilt there anyway. "She might be able to settle him down," he continued, even softer, and you felt your concern grow worse.

Parker huffed, muttering something incoherent but stepping aside away from the door to the penthouse. You kept your posture tall, giving him a brief nod before pushing past and locking the door behind you.

There was silence for a few moments, and then a half moan, half sob. It was unmistakably him.

You followed the noise to the bathroom, and found your lover on the floor covered in vomit, sobbing dejectedly over the bathtub.

"Elvis, sweetheart," you gasp, dropping to your knees. He recoils almost, curling in on himself miserably.

"You need to go, mama. Can't- Can't be having you 'round when I'm like this," he moaned, burying his face away in his legs.

"No, baby. This is exactly the times I should be around," you say, moving close enough to wrap your arms around him. His reaction is almost automatic, even if he does try to fight it. His arms curl desperately around your waist, face buried in your chest as he cries, begs for unnecessary forgiveness.

"Hate myself, baby. I'm- I can't- I need to let you go, mama. You need'a run. Run far a'ay, you hear me?"

You shook your head, rocking him and pressing kisses to his damp hair, running your fingers over his back.

"Don't say those things. Please, Elvis. Don't say those things. You're amazing, baby. You did so well up there tonight," you knew it was what he needed, ultimately. He was so terrified of failing, of disappointing those flocks of people who scream and cry for him, as if he ever even could. You were convinced he could sit and talk for a few minutes about the blandest topic in the world and they would still go wild.

It was his greatest fear. That's why he let them fill him with drugs and take half his money. Consequences be damned, as long as he was making the people happy.

He all but mewled against you at the praise, slumping further into your warmth, mumbling a broken "you rea'ly think so?"

It shattered your heart, and you nodded, kissing his forehead.

"So good baby, but you need to rest now, for a little while. Till you're all nice and better, sweetheart."

Predictably, he shook his head, although anything he planned on saying was cut off with a harsh gag, and he was pulling away from you quickly to cough up a sickly mix of bile and blood over the tile floor.

He was pale, skin clammy, and while you winced in sympathy you couldn't help but be slightly relieved at the ejection of those horrible pills from his body.

He was apologising again, words slurred and body wracked by violent shakes.

"'Nother show, a-at t-ten. Colonel said demand was enough for it, I'm gettin' two shows a night," he sounded proud, despite being half dead on the floor like a weakened animal, eyes half shut and muscles tense, twitching incessantly.

"No," you spoke firm, leaving absolutely zero wiggle room for compromise, "you can't go back out there tonight. A few nights, maybe even a few weeks. You're going to kill yourself," it was brutal, perhaps a little harsh, but what else could you do? How else would he ever come to accept how bad the situation was, if not even one person in his life could be honest?

"If it's how I go, it's how I go."

Anger fluttered in your stomach, and you pulled him up to sit against the wall, sitting directly in front of him, hands clamped on his shoulders. You watched his eyes drift and struggle to focus on your face despite the close proximity.

"Don't you dare! What about Lisa, huh? You gonna have me explain to her where her daddy's gone? Want me to tell her how he loved them more than her? The Colonel, the fans, whoever the hell else! And- and what about me?! You just- you just gonna leave me, like that? After everything?!"

You didn't realise quite how worked up you had gotten, nor the tears streaming over your face, until he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, trying to thumb the wetness away as if he could make it all better just by cleaning up your hysterics.

It was him pulling you in this time. You wanted to fight. You were so damn furious, still - but his hands left you powerless, reducing you to a palatable mess who sunk against him in a bone heavy heap, hiding your face in his neck.

"Sorry, mama. Sorry. Not leaving either of yas, what kinda man would that make me, huh? What kinda daddy, or husband? Needa look after ya better, don't I? Look after my best girls."

You nod against his damp skin, a mix of tears and sweat as his body struggles. Your breath hitches when you feel how shaky his hands are running through your hair, and you pull back enough to wipe at your eyes.

"Let's get you to bed, baby. Let me look after you this time," you say quietly, running your thumb over his jaw. He blinks at you, a small smile tugging his lips, even if it is a little forced.

He looks pained and so, so exhausted. You never thought yourself capable of violence, but you wouldn't hesitate to kill Tom Parker for what he's done to your man. You remember those early days, back in memphis, back when his momma was alive. He was so bright then - so happy and carefree.

The years since had only served to beat him down. The shows and the fame and the fucking colonel- they only ever served to break him, and here he was now. Broken. He would never again be that nineteen year old starry eyed boy you first met, but that was ok. You loved him no matter what, just like you always swore.

You help him to his feet, and between yourself and the bathtub he makes it up on trembling legs. You wrap your arm secure around his waist, and you notice his slight wince, an insecurity spurred on by those awful pills. You tighten your grip, kiss his cheek to reassure him you don't care in the slightest.

It's slow, but you get him to the bed. He all but collapses into it with a groan, eyes already fluttering shut.

"Let's get you some clean clothes, baby," you encourage, and he obeys so easily as you strip him out of the soiled jumpsuit, tugging on some briefs in its place and some softer sleeping pants.

"Shirt, mama?"

It's not cold in the room, and the vulnerability in his eyes makes the shattered pieces of your heart burn.

"Don't need one, baby. I promise. You're gorgeous. All my gorgeous man, daddy," you assure, kissing his collarbone all tender and letting your hands move careful over his sides.

He shivers, squirming a little on the bed under your touch.

"You sure baby? Not quite as pretty as I useta be," he mumbles, and you huff a little, continuing to kiss downwards, on your knees all but worshipping every piece of visible skin.

"So gorgeous, daddy."

"What'd I do to deserve ya, huh?" Elvis whispers, and you chuckle a little against his skin, and his smile this time feels much more real.

"Somethin' diabolical, I'm sure," you tease, pushing him gentle until he lies down.

"Think I must'a been a saint or somethin," he drawled, and you smile.

"Or somethin."

You dip to press a kiss to his forehead, which still feels awfully hot. You decide a cold towel might help, but as you go to grab it he grips your hand.

"Where ya goin?"

He's giving you those puppy eyes, fingers linking with yours.

"Gonna get a towel, try to cool you down some. You're burning, baby," he shakes his head, whimpering a little, pressing his lips to your hand.

"Stay, mama. Ya all I need, you'll fix me right up with ya pretty lips. Just wanna hold ya, is all. Ya my medicine," he murmurs, and you sigh softly, perching on the bed and running your fingers through his hair.

"I'll only be downstairs, baby. Just one moment, ok?"

Reluctantly he loosens his grip, pressing a weak kiss to your thigh as an almost wordless agreement.

You rush downstairs and search for a towel, wetting it with cold water. You grab a bowl from the kitchen incase the nausea hits again, and a glass of water. You're just gathering up the things to take upstairs when you hear voices from the bedroom.

You quickly grab the supplies and go up, only to find Elvis now half sitting, struggling to get all the way up, breathing rough like he's panicking and trying not to cry. The colonel stands at the foot of the bed, cigar between his lips puffing clouds of smoke, arms folded over his chest as he watched, almost bemused.

"What the hell are you doing?" You spit, almost dropping the glass in your haste to reach your man. You place the water on the bedside, the bowl on the floor, and ease the towel around his neck, whispering reassurances as you direct him to lie back down. You can see in his eyes that he doesn't necessarily want to, but his body is far too weak to fight your guiding hands, and his head lands back onto the pillow with a soft thump.

"He's got a performance in a half hour. We need him downstairs for sound check and wardrobe," Parker states, voice void of any sympathy. He's looking at the sick man with something akin to frustration and anger, and you can see how it hurts him, can feel him try to sit again under your hands only to be physically incapable.

"He's not going on that damn stage," you growl right back.

"It's none negotiable, little girl. He signed a damn contract, he honours it!" Tom hissed, getting into your space.

You didn't back down, grabbing your lovers hand to assure him you were ok when you felt him try to struggle to his feet again.

"He's half fucking dead, you dimwit! You're working him to death, can't you see that? He's a human being! You can't just stuff him with drugs and push him onto a damn stage night in night out! He needs rest!"

The Colonel shook his head, chuckling. He looked at Elvis, who was glaring up at him now.

"You letting your girl fight your battles now? Letting her make the rules?"

He glances your way, tightening the grip on your hand.

"She's right. It's too much," it felt almost relieving to hear him finally say it. "Tell them I'll resume I'm a few days but not tonight."

You hoped you could convince him for a little more than that, but it would do for now.

The colonel seemed to of realised he lost, storming out with a promise to make us both pay.

The door slammed, and you climbed onto the bed immediately, wrapping yourself around him and kissing his lips sweetly, letting your hands draw patterns over his bare arms.

"I do good, baby?" He hummed quietly, and you nod, the tension melting from your body as he nuzzles into you, linking your legs and bringing his arms around your waist to tug you closer.

"The best. I'm proud of you," you murmur into his hair, peppering his face with gentle kisses.

You both lie like that for a little while, and eventually you can feel him snoring softly against you. You let yourself drift off too, feeling impossibly safe in his arms.

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 4: Dry Humping

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Words: 979

Warnings: discussions of difficulties with sex, just a lot of making out really.

A/N: How could I possibly write dry humping and not write Ben when it’s so obviously his thing? skhkfkdjksd

Keep reading

[sargeant-bxrnes]

thirty seconds. [a.b]

summary; austin has to leave bed early in the morning to go to work, but promises to stay if you manage to keep him in bed for over 30 seconds.

warnings: lots dirty talk, teasing, fingering, biting?, slight d/s dynamic, unprotected, rough sex, creampie, this one is nastyyy.

word count: 3.5K.

my masterlist!

The feeling of Austin's body moving beside you woke you from your slumber, you heard him let out a yawn, his body unconsciously inching closer to yours while you slowly blinked your sleep away.

"Good mornin'," his deep voice greeted you, raspy from sleep.

You gazed at him, admiring how attractive he looked. His deep voice, his warm, soft skin against yours, and the memories of what happened last night prompted you to press your lips to his.

Austin was certainly surprised, but not displeased. He pursued the kiss, placing a hand on your cheek as you placed yours on his bicep, squeezing it gently.

"Good mornin'" you mumbled in between kisses, barely pulling away for long enough.

"What time is it?" Austin mumbled, pulling away from your lips, but maintaining his hand on your cheek.

Not wanting him to focus on that right now, you pulled him closer again, his soft pink lips pressing against yours as he gave in momentarily, getting lost in the feeling of your kiss.

Eventually though, Austin pulled away again and looked over your shoulder, taking a look at the clock placed on your bedside table.

"It's 8 already," he mumbled over your lips, pressing quick kisses in between words. "I gotta get ready for work, baby."

"No, you don't." you assured, as confident as you could, once kissing him deeply, trying to keep him focused on you.

"Yes, I do." he said over your lips, it was a miracle you'd understood his words.

"No, you don't," you said, pulling back far enough for you to be able to stare at his face entirely. "You could stay here, with me."

"Oh, I would love to," Austin assured, his blue eyes moving down to your lips almost instantly, like they were naturally drawn to them. "But I gotta go."

"Mmm... I don't think so." you said confidently, already planning something. The movie director had told you Austin could have some days off, he let you know beforehand so you could ease the idea into Austin, since your boyfriend is always hellbent on working and not wanting to rest until it was done.

"Baby, don't make this hard for me, I don't want to leave, but I have to." Austin almost groaned, he didn't want to leave you, of course not, but he had responsibilities to attend to.

"No, you're not going anywhere, mister," you said with an amused smile, making Austin smile and raise both eyebrows. "I'll hold you here if I have to."

"You'll hold me?" Austin scoffed, not meaning to offend you in any way.  "And how will you do that?"

"I'll–" you had no idea of how to do it. "I'll pin you down."

"Pin me–" Austin chuckled, running a hand through his curls as he looked at you. "You're strong, I'll give you that, but I'm stronger."

He was stronger, and you knew it. Still, you wanted to test this theory, who knows? Maybe you got lucky and found a way to overpower him. Sure, he's 5'11 ft tall with an athletic physique but... you had hopes. They must count for something, right?

"I will still find a way to keep you here." you assured with a knowing smirk, the one he mirrored— it was hard to tell if he'd read your intentions or if he just thought you were cute for believing you had any chance against him.

"Will you now?" he inquired.

Sensing the challenge, you rolled closer to him and pinned both his arms against the bed, holding each with one hand. Austin looked up at you, trying to hold a laugh down. He could feel your efforts on trying to keep him down, but all it took was for him to sit down for you to topple off him.

"Am I supposed to feel trapped, without an escape?" he ironically asked you, his eyes moving down to your lips once, twice, thrice. "You know what? Maybe I'm being too harsh on you. Let's make a deal, alright?"

"I'm listening." you said, not letting go of his wrists.

"If you somehow manage to keep me in this bed for thirty seconds..." he conditioned, biting his lower lip as his eyes found yours again. "I'll stay here."

"Really?" you asked, surprised and enticed by his proposal.

"Yup, so go on baby, try your best."

You let go of his wrists and sat straight, trying to think of something to keep Austin down. It was nearly impossible, to be fair, he was strong enough to push you away whenever he wanted, and tall enough for you to be unable to cover his limbs in entirety.

So, you acted desperate. Because lowkey, you were.

Clearly not thinking about your odds, you leant to the front and wrapped both hands around his left arm, effectively pinning it down to the bed, securing it tightly.

"Nice," Austin admitted, shrugging his free shoulder. "Two hands to pin one of my arms down, great planning."

He was mocking you, damn him. You moved closer to him, sitting on his waist this time, using your body weight to try and keep him down, pressed against the mattress.

"Ooooh," Austin nearly smirked, biting his lip as he nodded his head in agreement, liking your new tactic. "I mean, you could for sure sit there but then..."

With ease, he wrapped his free arm around your body and effectively rolled you both around in bed, so this way he'd be on top of you, his body keeping yours down and his beautiful face inches away from yours. His naked chest was pressed against your breasts, and you could feel him getting hard against your thigh.

Not giving up, you tried to wiggle your way out, tried to sneak away from him, but Austin wasn't having it. He chuckled and reacted quickly, wrapping one big hand around both your wrists and pinning them to the bed.

"One hand to keep both your arms down," Austin mumbled, looking deep into your eyes. "What are you gonna do now?"

Without a word, you tried to push him away with your legs, but it didn't work since Austin placed his legs on top of yours and used his own weight to pin you down, completely immobilized you under him.

"You're trapped," he said with a shiteating grin. "So I win, I'm stronger."

"No, actually, I win," you pointed out, smirking at him and turning your head to the clock to take a look at the time. "You've been here for two minutes."

Austin looked at the clock and realized you were right, you'd won and managed to keep him in bed for over thirty seconds, sure, he'd won and overpowered you quickly, but you'd kept him with you either way.

You could see the gears turning behind Austin's eyes, the hue of blue getting darker as an idea came to mind, you knew him well enough to tell he was planning something, and if the position you're in is anything to go by, you're going to like his plan.

"Oh, would you look at this?" he mocked surprise, blue eyes wide and jaw dropped. "Look who's pinned to the bed now? I have my hand wrapping yours, my legs are pinning yours down and... guess what? I still have a free hand, to do with it as I please."

Now that you knew you'd have him with you all morning, you allowed yourself to smile victoriously, feeling proud of your accomplishments and of course, your flawless plotting.

"This is what you wanted all along, wasn't it?" Austin questioned, understanding everything. You knew he'd overpower you, even before trying.

"Of course not." you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes in a mocking manner.

"No?" he asked and you shook your head, trying to keep the game up for as long as you could. "So it wouldn't have any effect on you, like at all, if I do this?"

Before you got the chance to ask what he was talking about, Austin moved his face away from yours and down to your chest, he hovered over your left breast before pressing a kiss against it, to then wrap his lips around your nipple, sucking slightly before pulling away and giving the other nipple the same attention.

His tongue swirled around your nipple and you swallowed heavily, trying to keep your act together, a whimper threatening to spill from your lips. "O-of course not."

"Right..." Austin mumbled, knowing fully well that you were probably dripping wet already. "Then I guess I'm free to do this, too."

He moved his face down again, only this time it was his teeth, the ones that scraped against your nipple as he bit gently, pulling with his lips, making your back arch and a whimper escape your lips instantly, the stimulation feeling great. Austin knew just how sensitive your tits were, which explains why he immediately moved his lips to the other and repeated the manner, biting softly.

"Please..." you said, wanting to feel more of his touch.

"Oh no, you wanted me here in bed with you," he rasped out, his breath over your nipple sent shivers down your spine. "So you'll take what I'll give you, like a good girl."

Your hips involuntarily moved upwards, but Austin made sure to pin them down when he moved his body up again, so his face would be at your neck level— where he began to kiss. At first it was soft, barely a caress, but then his lips pressed harder against your skin until his teeth dragged against it, threatening to bite, only to suck after.

The feeling of his lips against your neck was maddening. It made you want nothing more than to turn your bodies around and ride the life out of him— so foolishly, you attempted to do so, starting your plan by trying to squirm away, but of course, he didn't let you.

To keep you under his control, Austin took a hold of your head and pulled it back, exposing your neck to his lips, your skin as his mercy for him to lick, bite, kiss and suck as much as he pleased. He could feel you getting restless under him, and Austin enjoyed it thoroughly, he LIVED to tease you.

"Please Austin..." you begged, needing to feel more.

"Please what?" he pulled back, wanting to know what you wanted, whether it was for him to stop teasing, to focus somewhere else, or if you wanted to stop— he would if you asked him to.

"I need more," you expressed, trying to find his eyes with your own.

"Hm, I guess I could send this hand..." he said, showing you the hand that was holding your head down. "Lower."

"Yes–" it was almost ridiculous how relieved you sounded.

"Here?" Austin asked, placing his hand at your clavicle, the tips of his fingers trailing over your skin teasingly.

"No, lower."

"Here?" he repeated the question, pressing his hand on your belly, pinning your lower half down.

"Aus, please–" his teasing was beginning to get you restless, not that you didn't enjoy feeling like that but, for god sake, he was driving you insane. "Lower."

"Here, then?" he asked, tantalizingly slow, his hand slowly moving lower and lower until it disappeared between your legs. "Fuck, you're dripping wet, baby, all that just for teasing you? God, I can't imagine how wet you'll be when I fuck you."

His words sounded twice as dirty when he uttered them with that raspy voice of his, traces of southern accent still adorning his words as he spoke them with such certainty, it almost made you let out a whiny whimper.

His long, slender fingers began to tease you, spreading your wetness across your lips. Then, he drove his fingers up to your clit, slowly starting to rub in circular motions, pressing down slightly. His motions were slow, meticulous, giving you the right amount of pleasure so you'd beg for more.

You tried to press your legs together to get more friction, Austin noticed, of course, and he showed it by pulling his hand away and spreading your legs wider, opening you up for him.

"Fuck..." you let out a half moan half groan, throwing your head back against the pillow as two of his fingers burried inside you, expertly pulling in and out of you– he curled them in a come hither motion at the right moment, hitting your spot with efortlessness. "Oh my– Austin—"

"That's it," he said, eyes dark with lust as he observed you squirming under him, his eyes moving down to see his fingers disappearing inside your pussy, to come out glistening with your juices, the ones that had begun to drip down to the bedsheets. "Goddamn it, I love how you moan my name."

As he fingered you, he drove his thumb up to your clit, starting to rub at a certain rhythm that he knew drove you wild— he was using every single trick he knew to please you, using every single one of your weak spots to make you crumble.

He felt you starting to clench around his fingers, making it almost impossible for him to move them– you were close and he could tell. Austin felt generous, wanting you to reach your climax sooner. Without a word, he drove his lips to your chest again, twirling his tongue about one nipple and then biting the other, and vice versa. All while he kept his amazing pace with his fingers.

Your moans were getting louder now, you were unable to remain quiet as his fingers curled against your spot and his lips sucked your nipples till they almost hurt, you couldn't cover your mouth since he kept his hold on your wrists– so all you could do was try to bite your lip, only to let it go seconds after in a failed attempt to keep quiet.

Austin was enjoying this, feeling you squirming under him, hearing your desperate moans and the sound of his name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer, not to mention your pussy wrapping his fingers greedily, not wanting to let them go.

He could probably spend the rest of his life like this. But... his dick was killing him. It was painfully hard now, he'd started to leak and he feared his dick would explode if he didn't use it to fuck you soon.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." you began to mumble quickly, feeling your orgasm arriving, a wave of pleasure running close to shore, about to invade your body but— he pulled his fingers out of you at once. "Austin!"

"Tch, tch..." he tutted you, his eyes focused on yours. "Don't get greedy with me."

"But— But-I was about to–"

"Oh I know," he assured you with a cocky smile, making you let out a frustrated groan. "Is it really a crime that I want to make you cum with my cock instead?"

That was effective in shutting you up, your legs spread wider as you maintained eye contact, wetting your lips slightly as you nervously awaited for his next move, or his next word.

"That's what I thought." Austin said, voice incredibly deep now as he now wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it a few times as he slowly began to line himself up with you.

He slowly pushed himself into you, letting you feel absolutely EVERYTHING. Every curve, every vein. Everything.

The deep groan he let out right next to your ear as he pushed inside you made you instantly clench your walls around him, making it hard for him to move.

"Goddamn, fuck..." he groaned, pressing a borderline agressive kiss against your neck. "Holy shit, you feel so good wrapped around me."

"Plea–" a moan interrupted your pleading. Austin started to thrust, building up a pace as his cock slid and out of you, stretching you with every pump, the feeling was bittersweet, the stretch burned, but the pleasure made up for it. "Aus– oh my– fuck, right there."

"Right here?" he asked, thrusting harder and pressing the tip against a certain point inside you. "I can feel you clenching 'round me, darlin'. So fucking good."

You were getting desperate to touch him, his hold on your wrists hadn't relented and the lack of touch was driving you crazy. Austin's mind wasn't far from sharing the same thoughts, since he looked at your eyes before speaking again.

"I'm gonna let your hands go," he said and started thrusting slower, it was hard to know if he wanted you to focus on his words or not. "So I can take a hold of your hips and fuck you right."

You nodded, but still had the intention to roll you both around and start riding him, wanting to chase your own orgasm and tease him for a while. As soon as Austin let go of your hands, you tried to turn the situation around, to no avail though, for he chuckled and took a tight grip on your hips, the one would surely leave finger shaped bruises in your skin.

"Oh, havin' an attitude?" he quirked, smirking as his lips teased yours, barely pressing a kiss. "Guess I'll have to fuck it out of you."

The last word left his lips and a deep, sharp, hard thrust followed, and then another, marking the beginning of a ravaging pace that would for sure lead you right to your orgasm. His cock dove into you hard, fast and deep, touching parts of you that only he could— he had you at his mercy, doing whatever he wanted with you, and you loved that.

"So good, fuck–" you moaned, eyes rolling at the back of your head as his dick pressed against your g-spot repeatedly. "Austin– ah f-f..– baby please..."

You were just rambling at that point, begging, pleading, praising, asking, not one coherent sentence left your lips, just words and moans and his name— Austin felt proud of what he was doing to you, he was fucking you dumb, leaving you barely able to speak.

He moved his body closer to you, entrapping you under him as he placed an arm next to your head and dove his face back to your neck, kissing messily around it, wet kisses being placed all over your neck as his dick kept fucking you closer and closer to your orgasm.

The first clench came, and then the second, your moans began to get high-pitched and your hips attempted to chase his— all of those were clear signs that you were about to cum.

"I can recognize those pretty moans everywhere," Austin rasped in your ear, his hips snapping against yours. "You wanna cum, don't you?"

"Fuck, yes, yes, please."

"Do it," he allowed you, his pace getting impossibly better, going deeper, faster, harsher. "Cum around my cock baby, c'mon, cum for me."

His words basically eased you into it, his dick hit all the right spots, and with a loud whail of his name, you came around him, clenching your walls so tight Austin thought he was about to come as well. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own in the process.

The overstimulation felt oddly delicious as he kept moving in and out of you, his thrusts getting sloppier and his hips stuttering until eventually, Austin let out a groan from the depths of his chest and came, filling you up until the last drop.

Both of you were panting heavily by then, but Austin didn't care, he still pressed his lips against yours and kissed you passionately, his tongue going inside your mouth, lips capturing yours– he was still inside you, so he definitely felt you clench around him when he bit your lower lip.

It was only when he felt entirely out of breath that he pulled away, allowing you to breathe properly now. Your eyes instantly connected with his, a smile teasing the edge of your lips.

"That was..."

"I don't know what took over me–" Austin was about to apologize for his behaviour, but you interrupted him with a kiss.

"It was fucking amazing." you assured with a huge smile.

"It was," he admitted, his sweet smile turning into a smirk.

"What?" you asked, knowing he was up to something, AGAIN.

"I'm still inside you," he pointed out, pressing a kiss against your jaw. "We don't have plans today so..."

"Is this you, asking for round two?" you asked teasingly, finding it hard to believe that he was being shy all of a sudden, especially after he fucked you like that.

"Absolutely." he admitted without hesitation. "You feel so perfect wrapped around me like this, with my cum dripping out... it would be a shame to pull out."

And just like that, you placed your hand on the back of his head, tangled your fingers in his hair, and pulled his face down to yours, your lips crashing in a hungry kiss that did nothing but escalate from there.

[foreverdolly]

my bestest girl | austin!elvis x reader

summary: you're elvis’s childhood best friend, and he’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember. his mother and father keep trying to push him to finally make a move, what with you being the only girl that they would ever approve of their son going steady with. elvis, bashful and fearful of rejection, decides to keep his feelings to himself. . . well- that is until he can’t physically take it anymore

pairings: austin!elvis x fem!reader

word count: 9,173 ( I couldn't stop typing ).

warnings/notes: SMUT !, cursing, the reader and elvis are both huge virgins, grinding, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, implied breeding kink, elvis loves you so much that it physically pains him. the internal image of an inexperienced, nervous elvis has me foaming at the mouth. everyone always writes austin!elvis as a sex god, but quivering boys with shaky, wandering hands who cry during sex is my own personal kryptonite. a continuation of this fic is currently in the works, so please follow me or ask to be added to my taglist for my virgin!elvis content if ya liked this.

masterlist | requests are currently closed !

“Mama, here you go again! Stop tryin’ to stick your nose into other people’s business.” He called from his bedroom, his heart pounding against his chest. Elvis stared at himself in the small mirror he had in his cramped space, taking a few steps back so that he could make sure that his short sleeve button up didn’t have any wrinkles. He had insisted that he do the ironing himself, not wanting his mother to be too overwhelmed with things to do. He wasn’t very good when it came to housework, no matter how hard he tried. 

“I’m not doin’ anythin’ a mother shouldn’t do, baby! I ran into her daddy at the grocery store, and we just got to talkin’ is all.” Is that what she wanted to call it? Vernon had pulled Elvis aside just thirty minutes ago and had told him that Gladys had practically begged your father to get you to come over for dinner tonight. She’d been meddling in his relationship with you for years, but tonight was different. He could tell that she had something up her sleeve, ready to pull out once she got two of you cornered at the dinner table. 

She had always been wildly overprotective of her son, and Elvis had never fought the hold that she had over his life. He didn’t blame her one bit for it, rather he enjoyed feeling loved and cared for. He never spent a single night away from home until he was seventeen, for crying out loud. If Elvis lost a son the same way that she had, he was positive that he’d want nothing more than to keep him safe and healthy. That was exactly what Gladys was doing. She looked after him and made sure he never got himself into any sort of trouble. His old pals from high school used to say that she felt “threatened” by the girls that used to try their hand at flirting with him, but the blue eyed boy knew that it just wasn’t the case. No, she wanted him to be with the right girl. 

In Glady’s and Vernon’s eyes, you were the only girl for Elvis. He felt that way about you too. 

When he reached puberty and moved to Memphis, girls started paying more and more attention to him. The one girl that he wanted to look in his direction never did though. His sultry voice, long eyelashes, and crooked smile never worked on you. Good lord, had he tried it time and time again, but you never acted interested. Despite the dull ache of rejection that Elvis always felt in your presence, he never could shake you. Not that he wanted to. You were just as much family to him as his own parents were, what with the fact that you two had always been connected at the hip. He couldn’t go a single day without phoning you up, the two of you chatting excitedly about your latest Beale Street shenanigans. 

His love and attraction for you never dimmed, and his eyes never strayed. Elvis was positive that you were the girl that he was supposed to marry. . . but he knew that you didn’t feel the same way. He smoothed a few stray pieces of ebony hair back into place, chewing nervously at the inside of his cheek. “Sure, sure. You only did what you thought was right.” He moved to stand in the doorway of his room, pressing his hip against the wooden frame. “But mama?” She was anxiously setting the table, and stopped what she was doing so that she could meet his gaze. 

“You can’t force her to feel somethin’ that she doesn’t, alright? I’m perfectly fine with just bein’ her friend.” That was a lie. The words burned his tongue the second that he said them, but he refused to take back the statement. He wasn’t going to say anything to you that might potentially push you away. He’d rather not have you romantically than not have you at all. Elvis was sure that he might just keel over if you never spoke to him again. The remorseful look on his mother’s face didn’t escape him, but he made the decision to ignore it. He didn't want anybody's pity. Not right now, at least. You’d be here any second, and the last thing he needed was to start moping around. You would be sure to notice. 

He wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks, clearing his throat as he straightened out his shoulders. “Now what can I do to help, satnin?” He cooed to his mother, watching the way the nervousness dissipated from her expression. 

He was helping to lay out the silverware, but paused as there was a knock on the door. “That must be our girl. Elvis, how ‘bout you get that?” Vernon spoke from the kitchen, probably busy sneaking a few spoonfuls of his mother’s famous ambrosia salad, which she would be sure to notice. His father would be getting an earful about it later. 

The man was at the door in the blink of an eye, his long legs quickly stalking across the small home. He ripped the door open with a wide smile, eager to see you after the few days that you two had been apart. You were like a drug to him- at this point he couldn’t go too long without you, not without suffering withdrawals. You blinked in shock, a few strands of your bangs fluttering with how violently he had ripped the damn thing open. 

Standing in front of you was a very eager looking Elvis, his plush pink lips upturned into his signature smile. Judging by the way you were quick to step into the house and wrap your arms around him, he could tell that you were excited to see him as well. “That was the longest trip of my life.” You sighed against his chest, giving him one last squeeze before letting him go. He found it hard to speak for a few seconds, so he decided to nod his agreement. You and your family had taken a last minute vacation to Cherokee Lake Beach, deciding that the summer break would be a better time than ever to celebrate your father’s recent promotion. Last night had been your first day back, but you had claimed to be too tired for a visit, so Elvis made do with the half hour phone call you made to him. 

Gladys had been lucky enough to bump into your dad after the week long vacation, which was how he had ended up in this mess. Elvis was too mortified to ask about all of the details, knowing that his loud mouthed mother probably gushed to the middle aged man about her son’s private thoughts and feelings. You were dolled up, which wasn’t completely unusual. You always went out of your way to look pretty- but you had even dusted your wide doe-like eyes with a shimmery shadow. Your cheeks were naturally flushed, your skin glowing after the days of soaking up the sun. He was taken aback by your beauty. So much so that he just stood there, his blue eyes half lidded as he took you in. For a moment neither of you spoke. You merely stared at one another, basking in each other’s presence. That was until Vernon spoke, that is. 

“Gladys cooked you a welcome home feast, darlin’. I hope you’re hungry.” Elvis could have cursed at his father, your beautiful eyes leaving his face and instead turning in the direction of the kitchen. 

Your lips moved up into a lazy smile, and soon you were moving closer to Vernon, wrapping your arms around him quickly as the two of you exchanged your hellos. He gave the top of your head a quick kiss before letting you go. Gladys was next, moving from the kitchen so that she could wrap you up in one of her usual bear hugs. She peppered your cheek with kisses, rubbing your arm up and down when she pulled away so that she could get a good look at you. “Why, look at you!” She purred, giving you a once over. “You look beautiful, y/n.” 

And you did. Then again, Elvis couldn’t even remember a time when he hadn’t thought you looked gorgeous. Whether you were stumbling out of your room after a long night's rest, sleep caked in your eyes and your hair sticking up on end, or as sick as a dog- Elvis always found you gorgeous. He was smitten to the point of being lovesick for crying out loud. 

“Did you make the ambrosia salad?” He heard you ask from the kitchen, your small frame disappearing into the tiny space. You and his mother always got along like two peas in a pod, but he couldn’t help but glare after his mother who had stolen you away from him so soon into the visit. 

Vernon took it as his opportunity to move towards the dining room table, taking his seat. Elvis hesitantly followed suit, nervously looking down at his shirt one last time, attempting to brush out a wrinkle with his hands, his silver watch jingling softly with the movement. “Son,” His father kept his voice low, leaning forward on his elbows. “Your mother and I are goin’ to watch a movie together once we’re through with eatin’.” Elvis’s eyes furrowed in confusion, but he nodded his head anyway. “What movie are we seein’?” It wasn’t like his father to go to the movies. His parents never spent money on frivolous things like the cinema. Vernon was quick to shake his head, reaching into his pocket to show him just two tickets. “I just thought that you and y/n might like some time to yourselves tonight.” Elvis had to pinch his nose to keep from exploding, his cheeks hot with both anger and embarrassment. Now how the hell was he supposed to explain all of this to you? “Daddy- you’re just as bad as mama is!” He whisper-yelled. Before he had time to scold his father any further, his two girls emerged from the kitchen, arms full of serving dishes. 

Warm biscuits, mashed potatoes with gravy made from drippings, green beans and hamburger steaks. His mother really had gone out for your long overdue return to the presley household. You sat next to Elvis wordlessly, and when he turned to face you he could tell that your cheeks were a little pinker than they had been before. He blinked a few times, but settled further into his seat, grabbing the linen napkin off of the table so that he could put it on his lap. The four of you all joined hands, your mother insistent that you all say grace before she began putting heaping servings on to everyone’s plate. 

“So? How was the lake, y/n? I’m sure you and your family had quite the time down there.” Vernon was quick to engage you in conversation. 

Your arm brushed against Elvis’s side every time you moved your fork around on the plate, and each time his stomach did a flip. He found it hard to even focus on eating, so he just moved his food around from one spot to the other, hoping that his mother wouldn’t notice his lack of appetite. If she did, she didn’t comment on it. Instead she was too focused on her role as “matchmaker”. 

“It was wonderful! I got to teach my baby cousin how to swim while we were down there.” Imagining you carefully taking care of your aunt Valerie’s son made his heart seize up. Elvis had always wanted children, and lots of them. He saw how it had completed his own mother and father’s lives, and he wanted that for himself. His career had steadily been taking off, and though he hadn’t really gotten his big break yet, his single ‘That’s Alright’ was doing pretty well. They had just played it on the KWAM radio station the other night, and he had quite literally jumped for joy. Once he was settled enough in his career, he wanted to start a family and get married. Hopefully by some time next year, he might be far enough ahead in his life where that could be something to seriously think about. That is. . . if you ever returned the sentiment. His mother seemed to be thinking the same thing, because her eyes softened. 

“You’d make a mighty fine mama someday. I know you wanted to go to college once your younger sister graduates high school, but I’d hope you’d be thinkin’ ‘bout marriage too right around that time.” Elvis widened his eyes at his mother, his mouth parting in shock at her boldness. 

Your cheeks heated up all over again, but you slowly nodded your head. “I’d like to be able to support my parents someday, which was why I wanted to go and get my education. I do want a family someday though. . . It just depends.” Your southern drawl was as sweet as sugar. Your voice has always been one of the many sources of Elvis’s weak spots for you. He glanced over, catching the way you were looking at him out of the corner of your eye. He swallowed thickly, filling his fork with mashed potatoes so that he could keep himself busy. 

Gladys hummed her approval, but continued to hone in on the subject. Elvis knew that this was going to be a shit show. . . but it was almost like the woman was going out of her way to embarrass him. “Elvis has always wanted a family, ever since he was a little boy. Isn’t that right, baby?” He nearly choked on his food, covering his mouth with his hand as he cleared his throat. You seemed to notice the panic on his face, because you were quick to hand him his glass of sweet tea. He gulped it back appreciatively. 

“The both of you are quite the lookers. If you two ever had any youngins, they’d be models.” It was your turn to choke on your food, narrowly avoiding getting a green bean stuck in your windpipe. Elvis reached out, giving your back a few pats before glaring at his mother. 

“Mama! That’s enough, ya hear? Give it a rest.” He spoke through clenched teeth, shaking his head in disbelief. To say that he was mortified would be an understatement. He knew that the two of you were in for a treat the second that his mother had practically skipped home last night to tell him the news, but god damn it this was horrifying. He was too scared to even look in your direction, fully convinced that the second his parents left the house you would be sure to reject him. It would be brutal, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to survive it. 

“I was just tryin’ to help-” Gladys started to mumble, but Elvis stood up from the table, the chair loudly scraping against the wooden floors. He tossed his napkin down onto his plate, staring the woman down. 

“Daddy, don’t you think the two of you should start headin’ to the theater? Wouldn’t want ya to be late.” His low voice was thick with humiliation, his lush lashes casting shadows on his cheeks as he turned his attention to his father. The man quickly nodded, standing up so that he could grab Gladys by the arm. “You’re right, son. Come on, dollface. Let’s get goin’.” 

Elvis could tell that his mother was starting to realize the embarrassment she had caused. She was damn near tears as she gave her son a soft pat on the back, and for once in his life he didn’t pay any mind to it. Elvis was a mama’s boy, and proud of it. He had taken care of his parents all of his life, both financially and emotionally. The only thing he asked for was privacy every now and again, because he had always been careful around you for a reason. Losing you would kill him. He’d be absolutely gutted. He shoved his hand into his pocket as the front door closed behind his parents, his sharp jawline ticking as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. He was staring absentmindedly at the table, his mind flying at a mile a minute as he tried to come up with something to say to you. Anything to fix whatever the hell his mother just did. 

Gladys Love Presley might as well have shouted from the rooftop that her son was in love with you. She had just hammered that final nail into his coffin. There was no getting out of this one. Over the many years that the two of you had known each other, he had slipped up on numerous occasions. Just two years ago he had tried to kiss you at a party, and when you had leaned away he had feigned drunkenness when in actuality the man had barely had a drop to drink the entire night. This was worse somehow. He could feel the tension in the air so thick that he could barely breathe. 

“Well, now ya know.” He threw his hands up, his heart pounding with nervousness or anger- he just didn’t know anymore. He couldn’t differentiate between the tsunami of emotions that were washing over him. You kept silent, but he could feel the weight of your gaze. He swallowed thickly, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I was hopin’ she wouldn’t be so obvious for once in her god damned life.” He moved away from the table, pacing back and forth in the living room. 

“Elvis, I’m not up-” “Just let me talk, okay? I at least want you to hear it from my mouth and not hers. She’s spoken for me my entire life,” He motioned towards the door, tapping his foot angrily. “So I don’t know why I’m shocked.” 

You bit your own lips to keep them from quivering, and he watched you distractedly for a few more seconds before finally taking a deep breath, running his large hands over his face. “I’ve never been able to get you off of my mind. You ran into me in the hallway on our first day of school, do ya remember that?” Despite his darkcast mood, he couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “You were wearin’ that pink gingham dress? The one your mama forced you to wear. . . and I thought that you were the most beautiful girl in the world. You smelled like gardenias, and were always eating peaches with your packed lunches. You were mean to every boy that ever approached you- but not me.” He shook his head, his voice thick as he remembered the first time he ever saw you. “You were a baby faced daydream of a girl, and I’ve never been able to get enough of you. I never will.” 

Elvis didn’t want to look at you for too long. He could tell by your expression that you were close to tears. He was neck deep into the confession now, and he didn’t want to leave anything out. He had been bursting at the seams for years. Bursting with love, and it felt good to get it all off of his chest. Damn good. 

“I don’t have eyes for anyone else. You asked me why I turned Dixie down last year when she asked me out, and it’s because you’ve blinded me. You’re so bright, I can’t see anyone else. I know you don’t feel the same way that I do. You’ve made it very clear over the years. . . but I just want you to know that I’m madly in love with you. My heart just aches. It’s disgustin’ how much I love you, really.” He laughed humorlessly, kicking his shoe against his mother’s rug. 

He could hear your soft hiccups from across the room, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to run to you and hold you, even for just a second, or if he wanted to find some means of escape. Either way, he had done it. There really wasn’t much else for him to say or do, other than just wait to hear what you had to say. He just hoped you’d be nice about it all. You were always kind to him, but maybe he had crossed a line. Maybe he had incurred your wrath somehow. 

He opened his arms out wide at his sides, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally locking his eyes on you. “Go ahead. Get it over with, y/n.” He didn’t want to beat around the bush with the rejection. You needed to rip it off quickly like a band-aid.    

╚══•●•══╝

Your father had tried to emotionally prepare you for the night. He had accepted the invitation on your behalf, knowing everything that Gladys had in mind for the dinner. It was no secret to any of your family or close friends that you were in love with Elvis Presley. He was just as much a part of your everyday life as breathing was. The two of you had done everything together. From attending senior prom to getting drunk for the first time, most young adult milestones had been reached together, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Despite your unchanging feelings, you were no stranger to the way that other girls looked at Elvis. You’d have to be blind not to see how beautiful he was. From his sultry blue eyes framed by thick black lashes to his plush lips and perfectly-imperfect smile; Elvis was irresistible. Nobody would ever compare to his looks. And his voice? It was smooth and velvety like honey. You had stopped being nervous around him years ago, and instead suffered your crush internally. Whenever friends or family asked, you always brushed the topic off. Either telling them that you weren’t ready to tell him, or that you were certain that he didn’t feel the same. Either way, it wasn’t time. When was it ever going to be though? The older the two of you got, the more of your old friends from school started getting engaged or married. 

One day Elvis was bound to find someone worth proposing to. One day you’d have to be forthright with him and your feelings. 

Elvis had always turned girls down, and you had gotten too comfortable with that fact. One day the right girl was bound to ask him out, and for once he wouldn’t say no. You’d be left in the dust. So when your father came bounding into the house, his eyes alight with excitement, you couldn’t see what there was to be so happy about. 

“Elvis has something he wants to tell you tomorrow night. Gladys wanted me to make sure you’re at their house for supper.” Your stomach had dropped. What was so exciting? The big news could be a handful of things: he finally found a worthwhile person to manage him, he got a well paying gig, his career was beginning to take off. All you could think about was the fact that he could be telling you that he finally got himself a girl. All night you had practiced your smile in front of the mirror. As you sat there at your vanity, your pink lips pulled back in a wide grin, you couldn’t wipe the sadness from your eyes. Tomorrow was going to be the worst day of your life, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. It was like knowing you were about to get in a car accident, but you were unable to pull over to the side of the road. You just had to keep driving, hands glued to the steering wheel and foot nailed to the gas pedal. 

You had taken extra care in your appearance that night, even going as far as to apply a soft pink eyeshadow to your lids. If you were going to get your heart broken you at least wanted to look pretty. 

Elvis always looked at you with kind eyes, but the way that he had opened the door that night had left you stunned into silence. Your chest burned like it was on fire. The longer you looked at him, the more in love you fell. Right when you thought that you couldn’t love the boy any more- it was impossible- he would look at you like that. You had quickly searched the living room for any sign of another girl, but found none. The only purse to be seen was Gladys’, and the middle aged woman’s voice was the only one to be heard. 

It wasn’t until Gladys had you cornered in the kitchen that you finally clued in that she had schemed something up for the two of you. Right as you were grabbing all the food that you could fit in your arms, the woman leaned in close, her eyes twinkling. “You’d make the perfect daughter in-law.”  If Elvis and Vernon had noticed the way your face had flushed a bright red, neither of them commented on it. 

Gladys only continued throughout the night, driving the point home. If the news wasn’t about him having a girlfriend, then what could it possibly be? He hadn’t said anything about his singing yet. The more aggravated and embarrassed Elvis became throughout the dinner, the more confused you became. 

It wasn’t until Elvis mentioned his parent’s surprise movie date that it all finally clicked. 

You’d never seen the man get so upset with his mother before. Sure, she could get a bit overbearing and annoying at times, but he had more patience than anyone else you’d ever met before. He treated his parents like they were his own children, and never minded their meddling before now. His cheeks were red with anger, a few pieces of black hair falling out of place as he began to pace in the living room. They hung in his eyes, bouncing a bit with his constant movement. “Elvis, I’m not up-” You wanted to let him know that you weren’t upset with him or his mother, but he cut you off before you could get the words out. 

You didn’t know that you were holding your breath until you felt as though you were going to faint. You sucked in a deep breath, watching him with wide, teary eyes once he finally turned to face you. He had always been a poet, in his own right. He wrote beautiful songs, but you never had prepared yourself for such sugar-coated words to be spoken to you so directly like this. You weren’t sure what to say. How in the world were you ever supposed to say anything half as romantic and as beautiful as that, especially in the heat of the moment like this? You sniffled softly, wiping at your tear stained cheeks before you stood up on shaky legs. His chest was rising and falling in quick succession, so despite his calm expression, you could tell that he was panicking. He had never been so vulnerable like this in front of you. 

You began making your way up to him, your bottom lip quivering as you took in his expression. He noticed your tears, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Just say what you need to say.” He assured you, his arms dropping back down to his sides. It was crazy, but he really thought that you were about to turn down his affections. There wasn’t even a shred of hope in his bright blue eyes. 

“You’re either blind,” Your voice shook as you spoke, but you kept going. “Or an idiot, EP.” His eyebrows slowly began to furrow in confusion. He licked his dry lips before opening his mouth. “You don’t have to insult me too, ya know. Jesus.” His eyes began filling with tears, and that was all it took. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing his face contorted with pain, his eyes so very blue and so very sad- it pushed you over the edge. You grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him down to your height. Your movement was so rough and jerky that one of the buttons even flew off, but you paid it no mind. There was no time for apologies. 

His lips felt full and plush against your own, albeit a little chapped from the way he had been nervously chewing them during dinner. You had been kissed, but only once before. It had been a horrible slobbery mess, and even though Elvis had laughed at your expense all those years ago, you could tell that he was upset. Now you recognized it as jealousy. 

You poured everything you could into that kiss, your hands moving up to cup his cheeks and hold him in place as you slowly moved your lips against his, the tip of your tongue gently lapping against his bottom lip. You were easing him into it, and judging by his hands that shakily wrapped around your waist, he was terrified shitless. Scared or not, he was excited out of his mind to finally kiss you. Taste you. His unsure hands tightened their hold, his large hand sliding up from your hip to your back, pressing you flush against him. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, and the second that it registered to Elvis, he gasped against your lips. 

“I don’t know what I’m doin'.” He mumbled shyly against your mouth, his hot breath fanning over your face. You allowed your eyes to flutter open, your thumbs brushing against his warm cheeks. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did right then. His eyes were half lidded and laden with a lust that he still didn’t quite understand. His cheeks were flushed, and as you pulled back a little more so that you could get a better look at him, his lips looked pink and kissed. You breath locked up in your chest as you noticed his eyes still looked watery. You moved your hand upwards, gathering up one of the unshed tears that had become tangled in his thick lower lashes. “I don’t either.” You admitted with a smile. He chuckled, his hand moving further up your back so that he could gently cup the back of your neck. “Let’s learn together.” You weren’t sure when you had gotten so bold, but it was worth it to see his reaction. 

He hurriedly pressed his lips against yours, the both of you slowly moving backwards. Neither of you were sure where you were trying to go, but you just knew that you needed to get closer somehow. One of your hands moved from his face as you felt something pressing against your lower back, moving to try and blindly figure out just what it was. Elvis didn’t need to open his eyes to know that the two of you had ended up back in the dining room. He wordlessly bent down, placing his hands at the back of your thighs so that he could sit you down on the table. It was his turn to run his tongue along your bottom lip, and you wasted no time granting him access. The two of you explored each other’s mouths tentatively at first, but the more time went on, the more hungry the both of you became. He couldn’t get enough of you. His hands shook with the weight of his neediness, his hands moving from your neck, to your hair, grabbing a fistful as he held you more firmly against him. The two of you had fallen into a pattern, and in a matter of seconds the kiss no longer felt inexperienced. The both of you moved your lips against one another as if you could somehow devour the other. You parted for a second so that you could take a few deep breaths, and Elvis took that time to press his lips against your chin, your cheek, and down your neck. 

You spread your legs so that he could step between them, your hands shaking as they gripped at the fabric of his cotton shirt. It felt like every single nerve ending was on fire. Anywhere he touched felt like someone was holding a flame to it. His lips pressed against the hollow of your throat, his needy hands moving over your thighs, up your stomach, and stopping just below the swell of your breasts. His thumbs gently dug into the soft skin there, but it wasn’t enough for you. “For the love of god, touch me.” Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears. Elvis let out a loud groan against your skin, his hands moving up to cup you through the bodice of your dress. 

Your breasts felt heavy with want, even in his hands. He added pressure, his ring and middle finger pressing against your hardening nipples. You let out a loud yelp, your hips bucking on their own accord. Elvis’s hips jerked forward as he felt your core brush against his own, ripping his face out of your neck so that he could stare down at you with wide eyes. His pupils were completely blown out, his eyes more black than blue at this point. The noise you had let out as his hips moved against yours had been sinful. Never in your life had anything even remotely similar left your lips. He wanted to see what he was doing to you, so he moved his hips again but slower this time. Your jaw dropped, your lips parting as you felt him pressing against you. The movement directly stimulated your clit, and you couldn’t help but jerk against him slightly. It felt too good. 

It was almost too much, but still not enough, all at the same time. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared up at him, concentrating hard on not making a sound. You weren’t sure why but it was embarrassing. Elvis’s lips also parted as he repeated the action, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he licked his lips, his arm wrapping around you so that he could get a better angle. He pressed against you harder, moving his head down to press a kiss against your top lip. “Make that sound again for me, baby. Please.” He sounded so good when he was begging for your validation. He wanted to know that he was making you feel good. He wanted to know that he was doing right by you, and god was he. Your eyes nearly rolled back at the mere sound of his voice, so deep it was practically a hum. 

His hand lowered from your back to your bottom, and he gripped hard, physically moving you against him in time with his hips. You moaned so loudly you could feel the sound reverberating in your chest. “Oh fuck.” You distantly heard him curse, but you were too focused on what he was doing to you to really understand what was going on around you. Your hands flew to his shirt, your fingers fumbling as they tried to undo the buttons. It must have been taking too long, because Elvis’s hands moved to cover yours. “J-Just rip-” He gently brushed your hands away gripping the front of his shirt with shaky hands. He moved his mouth down to yours, pressing a wet kiss to your lips. “Rip it.” He was breathless as he tugged at the shirt, the buttons popping off with small snapping sounds. He must have decided that unbuttoning the shirt would have taken too long, because the second that he felt air against his chest he moved your hands towards him, wordlessly begging you to feel him. You swallowed back his hot pants as he breathed against your lips, your hands moving against his soft skin. Your small hands brushed against the expanse of his chest, starting just above his belly button and moving upwards. The tips of your nails gently scraped against his nipples, and he jerked forward, letting out a small hiss. “I’m sorry.” You were quick to apologize, but he shook his head, pressing his forehead against yours as he searched your eyes. “I-I liked it.” 

Your eyelashes fluttered as you moved your hands up and over his shoulders. Despite his skinny frame, he was toned. You pulled away from his face, smiling softly as he tried to follow you, not wanting to be parted from you for even a second. You let your eyes brush over his chest, moving the shirt down his shoulders so that you could get your fill. For a second, even through the haze of lust, Elvis’s eyes flashed with uncertainty as he watched you take him all in. Sure, it was just his chest, but for a second he was scared that he might be too scrawny for your tastes. The second that your eyes finally met his, all doubts flew right out the window. He wet his lips as he took in your expression, his heart hammering in his chest. Never in his life had he ever seen a more beautiful girl. This look- this expression- was all for him. If he had anything to say about it, no one else would ever see you in this position. 

You were just his. All his. You knew it, and now he knew it too. “I love you.” His voice was so quiet that you barely heard it, and suddenly he had you laid out on the table, moving to push plates and silverware down or off the table- he didn’t care. You laughed against his mouth as a glass cup filled with tea shattered on the floor next to him. “Damn it.” He cursed with a smile, quickly going back to having his fill of your lips. His hands gently moved from the back of your knees to your thighs, his fingers brushing against your soft skin. 

He was damn near petting you, groaning into your mouth as he pressed himself flush against your core. You could feel him better at this angle, your eyes flying open to stare at the ceiling for a few seconds before squeezing closed. He must have been painfully hard, and part of you were scared that if it already felt this good, that you might never want to stop. You loved him so much it was physically beginning to hurt. Never in your life did you ever want to be parted from this boy. Not even for a second. You opened your eyes again as his tongue pressed against yours, watching his eyelashes flutter as he kissed you. The ceiling light in the dining room hung directly overhead, looking more like a halo than anything to your tear blurred eyes. “I love you.” Elvis pulled away then, bracing one arm against the wooden table as he stared down at you, trying to decide if he had really heard you say that to him. He blinked a few times before he melted against you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. He pressed kisses against the flushed skin there. “Say it again.” 

“I love you.” His hands had snaked under your back then, lifting you up and off of the table. He backed up and out of the room, giving your small form a small squeeze. “Again.” 

“I love you.” He was walking blindly through the house, holding one arm against the nearest wall so that he could feel for the doorway. He peeked his eyes up from your shoulder, making the final couple of steps into his bedroom. He closed the door with his foot, shuffling over towards the bed. “Again.” He sounded breathless now, his voice thick with emotion. 

“Oh god, do I love you.” He placed a knee on the bed, gently setting you down before crawling over your form. His bottom lip quivered as he sat up on his knees, shrugging his shirt off of his shoulders. His hands moved to his belt, but he stopped himself. “I don’t want ya to feel pressured. How far were you wantin’ to go?” You knew that all you had to do was say the word and that Elvis would have stopped at any point. You were nervous, admittedly so, but you could tell that he was just as scared, if not maybe a little more so. The both of you seemed to want the same thing though. The both of you had already gone too far to back down now. You wanted him to be inside of you. Your body was humming with need at this point, the constant touches to your core working you up to the point of damn near frenzy. You were past the point of being nervous of what you were saying to him. You were usually careful with your words, but any and all shame had flown out of your body the second his lips had made contact with your neck. “I want you inside of me. Right now.” 

He let out a small whimper, his hands moving as quickly as they physically could as he removed his belt, tossing it onto the floor and doing the same thing with his pants. You were already sitting up, your hands moving to the zipper of your dress. You shrugged it off of you, kicking it down to the foot of the bed once it was off of you. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, but Elvis was on you in the blink of an eye, his strong arms wrapping tightly around you, his hips nestling in between your legs. You could tell by the way he was staring at you that he truly liked what he was seeing. 

Elvis always looked at you with honest eyes, soft and kind for you always. But he was staring at you now like you were the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on, and you were. He loved you. Every inch of you. He’d loved you since your embarrassing high school years, and over time the feelings had only managed to grow. They deepened with your bond, and at this point he was sure that he couldn’t love you any more than he already did. There was just no possible way. 

He pressed kiss after kiss against your lips, his hand moving up your thigh slowly, as if he were testing the waters. He was giving you a chance to back out. You didn’t say a word. His fingers finally brushed against you, gathering up a bit of your slick before gently moving upwards, continuing his exploration. The second his fingers brushed against your clit, you couldn’t hold back your obscene moan. Elvis was a fast learner, repeating the motion again and again as he pressed his finger against you in circular motions. Your body’s natural instincts took over, your hips rocking back and forth against your hands as he continued to bury his hand in between your legs. You could feel his cock against your inner thigh, completely unclothed now. Your hands moved down to feel him, but his free hand stopped you before you could. “I wanna make you feel good.” He said simply. Elvis’s blue eyes pinned you down, watching as you panted and writhed beneath him. After some time he sped up his ministrations, which elicited even more ungodly sounds from you. He ate it all up like a man starved, his jaw slack, his lips swollen from the constant kissing. You could feel yourself starting to come undone, your head pressed against the mattress. Your breathing sped up, and your heart rate with it. Elvis could tell that you were about to climax. He might have been a virgin, but that didn’t mean he was an idiot. Men often had no filter, and not all of his friends were as inexperienced as he was. 

He repositioned his fingers, moving so that his thumb was pressed against your clit, moving to bury two of his fingers into your cunt. You yelped in surprise, but found that it wasn’t uncomfortable like you once thought it might be. Your hands gripped his biceps, feeling the muscle flex under your palm as he continued his movement. You felt something building up in your abdomen, your eyes beginning to fill with tears as the pleasure reached its peak. 

“That’s it, baby.” Elvis mumbled, feeling you flutter around his fingers, watching your face closely as you threw back your head, your body quivering as he continued to ride you through your orgasm. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, and for a second you swore that you had gone blind, your vision going white. After a few seconds you finally sucked in a deep breath, Elvis growling low in his chest as you tried to back away from him. The pleasure was getting to be too much. “Please,” You begged breathlessly, blinking back tears. “I need you.” You were beginning to get overstimulated, but the second that Elvis removed his fingers you felt the need to cry out. You felt so empty. 

You gripped at him wildly, your nails digging into his skin as he reached down, wrapping his large hand around his cock. You finally took the opportunity to look down at him, having not gotten a good look at him earlier. What you had felt and what you were now seeing were two completely different things. Sure, you’d never actually seen anyone’s dick before, but this exceeded your expectations. Even compared to his large hands, the man was huge. You swallowed thickly, leaning up slightly so that you could press your forehead against his. 

His head was an angry pink, begging to be touched in some way. Precum beaded down the entire length of him, the man dripping with need. Elvis watched you, trying to decipher your expression. Once he was positive that you had gotten a good look at him, he wasted no more time. He pressed his head against your entrance, both his own precum and your slick making it easy for him to press his way in. You were so turned on- so ready- that your body practically sucked him in. 

Elvis’s breathing was so loud that you could hear it, his chest rising and falling wildly. He was fighting off his base urges, wanting nothing more than to press all the way in and fuck you into the mattress. You could see the pulse in his neck, thumping away wildly as he stared down at you. Once he was sure that you were fine he pressed in further, repeating the process until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Despite the fact that your orgasm had warmed you up for what was to come, it did very little to spare you the pain. It was sharp and sudden, but dissipated just as quickly as it came. Elvis let you cling to him and didn’t say a word when your nails dug in a little too deep for comfort. His free hand cupped your cheek, shushing your soft whimpers and kissing your cheeks. You could feel him quivering against you, as if the emotions and sensations were too much for him to handle. He only began to move once he was positive that you were alright, pressing his forehead against yours as he watched you closely. His eyelashes brushed against yours when his eyes fluttered, his breath shuttering across your lips. His hips moved slowly at first, his moans quiet and under his breath. The second that you raked your nails down his back, letting out a moan of your own, he was gone. It was almost as though he just snapped. 

He sat up, pressing your back into the mattress as his hands moved to your hips. The different angle caused him to press against your cervix, and for a second it was painful. You cried out, gripping the comforter tightly in your hands as he continued to fuck into you. His moans turned to grunts, and then into growls. They rumbled low in his throat, the sound doing dangerous things to you. His jaw ticked as he watched you. He loved the way that your back arched, watching your breasts as they bounced with his frenzied movements. Elvis might not have known what he was doing, but he was going off of pure animalistic instinct. Never in all of his life did he think anything could feel this good. Your walls were soft and velvety, and pressed tight tight tight against him. If he had thought that he couldn’t live without you before, now he was certain. Elvis could have eaten you alive. 

His hips continued their assault as one of his hands moved back down to your core, pressing against that same spot that caused you so much pleasure before. Your walls instantly tightened around him, causing him to cry out at the sudden wave of pleasure. He was close, and he was positive that no matter what he did, he wasn’t going to last long. He wanted to do whatever he could to make you cum right along with him. His fingers moved against her wet core along with his thrusts, the two feelings combined almost too much for you to wrap your brain around. You could feel him everywhere. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and yet you couldn’t stop shivering. “Please, please, please.” You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, just that you wanted something. No- you needed something. 

“I wanna cum inside.” Elvis’s voice was shaky from exertion, a thin sheen on his chest and beading on his brow. You were too blissed out to think too hard about whatever consequences that might have. All you knew was that you wanted more. Anything that he could give you of himself, you wanted it. You nodded quickly, moving your hips against his the best that you could. You could feel your own climax boring down on you like a weight, your walls already beginning to flutter around him. He leaned his torso over yours, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth. His lips muffled your cries of pleasure as you came and came hard. He followed close behind you, rutting into you a few more times before he broke the kiss so that he could press his face against your throat. You jumped slightly at the sudden warmth that began to pool in your abdomen. His hips pumped in and out of you every few seconds, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You were starting to come down from your high, but you still managed to lazily move your hips against his, wanting all of it. Every last drop. You didn’t want any of it to go to waste. Not when it could be filling you up. 

He peppered your face with soft kisses, and it wasn’t until he pulled away that you realized that he must have been crying at some point, his eyes slightly red and his cheeks wet. “I love you.” You didn’t need to be assured, but at this point he was saying it just to say it. Just because he could. “My bestest girl.” He smiled down at you, rubbing small circles into your flushed cheeks with his thumb. 

You hummed lazily, finding it hard to keep your eyes open for too long. Elvis appeared to be wide awake, leaning his head against his hand as stared at you. After a few more seconds he slowly pulled out of you, and you couldn’t help but wince as you felt liquid leaking out of you. He reached down, using his ruined shirt to carefully wipe you up. He took his time, making sure that you were alright before pulling the comforter up and around you. “I’m goin’ to go get somethin’ to drink, alright?” He slipped his trousers back on, closing the door behind him as he stepped out of the room. Distantly you heard the front door open, Gladys and Vernon’s voices filling the small home. 

“Oh. . . did y/n leave already?” There was an awkward silence before you could hear the sink turn on in the kitchen. It only took the middle aged woman a few seconds to notice the broken glass. “What in the sam hell happened in here? Elvis Aaron Presley- you broke one of my good cups!” There was a mumbled sorry and the sound of shattered glass being tossed into the metal garbage bin. You waited with bated breath for him to return, pulling the blanket further up around yourself just in case someone walked in. “Gladys. . . baby. . . let’s go and head to our room, alright? I think y/n’s still here, darlin’.” It was obvious that Vernon had clued in on what happened immediately. You could hear the discomfort in his voice as he spoke. “She’s here and you’re lookin’ like that? Put on a shirt. . . “ Her voice trailed off, and for a second you were sure that both you and Elvis were goners. “So does this mean you two are goin’ steady? Really? Oh, Elvis. . . I’m so happy for you.” She lowered her voice in the hopes that you might not hear her, but her voice was naturally loud. “Thank you mama. Do you mind ringin’ up her folks and lettin’ them know she’ll be staying the night? I’ll sleep on the couch if need be-” You had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. Well, it was moot-point now. Gladys seemed to think the same thing. “Her father and I were just sayin’ yesterday how badly we wanted to see you two together. They’ll be over the moon. Head to bed now, alright? I’ll call her mama right now.” 

Elvis slipped into the room a second later, handing you a glass of water that you happily gulped down. He flicked the light off, crawling into bed beside you. “I thought she was going to kill me.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You placed the glass down on the bedside table, laying back against the pillows. Elvis moved to lay on his side, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Now they’ll be gunnin’ for us to get engaged. I’ll never hear the end of it at home.” Your mother was already quite the nag. She’d be relentless when you got home tomorrow. “Give me a month.” He mumbled sleepily, moving to lace his fingers with yours. You closed your eyes tightly, your cheeks flushing all over again. “A whole month? Really?” You teased quietly. He chuckled softly, placing a warm kiss against your shoulder before he fully settled into the mattress.

 “Fine. A week.” And it didn’t sound like he was joking, either. 

want to continue reading this story? check out part two.

[youaintnothinbuta]

austin - “you need me.”

Summary: Your time of the month really sends your hormones crazy, Austin is sick of you rejecting period sex because you ‘feel dirty’.

Pairing: austin x fem!reader

Word count: 1,100

Warnings: SMUT, period sex, unprotected sex, blood, period oral (f receiving).

If period sex makes you uncomfortable, do not read this!!

MASTERLIST

Being on your period was torture, and not just because of the cramps and the pain and the headaches and the nausea. While those things definitely sucked, it was the crazy fluctuation of hormones that sent your sex drive skyrocketing. You and Austin had a very healthy sex life to say the least, and your insistence on not having sex for the week you had your period drove him wild just as much as it did you. He’d made it abundantly clear he had no problem with the thought of period sex, he took every opportunity to remind you about how orgasms can help period cramps, and had even used the phrase ‘not a real solider without a bit of blood on your sword’ more than once. You wanted to, too, of course, there was just that mental barrier of feeling dirty that was stopping you. Usually, you two just settled for grinding on each other til you came and then finishing him off in your mouth.

“I’ve done the math, Y/N. Your crazy hormones plus your sexual frustration times by my sexual frustration leaves us pretty amazing sex. Please.” Austin groaned as the pair of you arrived home from dinner, walking through the front door.

“Austin, I want to, you know I just can’t bring myself to.” You reminded him, locking the door behind you.

“It’s not any easier for me than it is for you, you know. You’re like an animal in heat. Clawing at me and rubbing on me all day. And then you leave me desperate.” He explained you as he hung his coat up.

“Austin.” You sighed his name, turning to head upstairs.

Begging you wasn’t working, he needed to change his tactic. Seduction. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you from walking away. A little whine escaped your lips. You were desperate to be manhandled by him. That whine didn’t go unnoticed by Austin, who was stood in front of you, one side of his lips curling into a smirk.

“Look at you, you’re about to combust,” he dropped your wrist, instead using his hand to squeeze your waist, “you need me.”

He had you wrapped around his finger with those three words. His eyes fixed on yours intently, making the pit in your tummy feel like it was on fire. You opened your mouth to speak but no words could be said before Austin pressed his lips to yours, that same hand that was around your waist now snaking around the inside of your thigh, giving you a squeeze and trailing his fingers up to your crotch. Your eyes shut, a quiet moan leaving your lips. You thought for a moment.

“Austin, fuck me. Please.”

It was his to turn to almost combust, a tingly feeling shooting through his nerves at the sound of your voice, asking him to fuck you. He picked you up, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist, he wasted not one second getting you to your bedroom, laying you down and then himself on top of you. You tilted your hips upwards as he placed kisses erratically all over any skin that wasn’t covered by your clothes, although aiming his attention at your chest.

“God, Austin, now.”

Usually, being so desperate and demanding would’ve got you punished but not this time, he was far too desperate himself to drag it out any longer. He stood up off you, stripping himself of his clothes, giving you a chance to do the same whilst on the bed.

A hand of his pulled your knee to one side, spreading your legs in front of him. He wrapped the string of your tampon around his finger.

“Can I?” You nodded, he slowly pulled the cotton out of your pussy, going into the ensuite of your bedroom to put it in the bin.

“My sweet girl.” He muttered, his naked body crawling back over you before trailing kisses down the length of your body, his fingertips making the hairs on your body stand up from the coolness of the water he’d washed his hands with. He dragged his nose against the mound of flesh above your clit, his breath lightly brushing over it.

“No teasing, please, not today.” You asked, your voice calling his eyes up to meet yours. He nodded ever so slightly, accepting your request. You thought that was the teasing, being down between your thighs. I mean, obviously, he wasn’t going to eat your pussy on your period, obviously.

Your eyes widened at the feeling of his tongue brush against your clit. And then again.

“When I said fuck me I didn’t mean—“ you tried to speak but your sentence was cut short as his lips tugged on your most sensitive area.

“Oh fuck, okay.”

Austin smiled against you, his lips kissing and sucking your clit. He pressed his index and middle finger inside you, shivering at the squelching sound of his fingers playing in your wetness and blood, making him groan against you. The vibrations of his groan went shooting through your core, you were fighting the urge to clamp his head at your heat with your thighs. His fingers curled inside of you, each motion forcing a chorus of wet noises from your body, each one sending him closer and closer to the edge.

“Need you in me.” You panted, desperately. He gave you clit one last long suck, his lips popping loudly as he disconnected them from your dripping heat. The palm of his right hand had some blood dribbled down it, his index and middle finger bright red. He wiped his fingers off on his bare chest before leaning his hands either side of your head, the sight of your blood smeared across his skin was turning you alarmingly more than it probably should have. Maybe it was just due to the fact that humans are, at the end of the day, still instinctive animals, but he felt no different. Sex with Austin was always amazing, but this, this was dirty, this was raw. His cock was throbbing, aching to come in you. Slowly, he pressed his hips into yours, both of your jaws hung open as he did so. The hormones, the extra lubricant, the sexual frustration, whatever it was- it was ecstasy. He quickly found the rhythm you liked best, his teeth biting his bottom lip as he watched your thighs tremble as his cock slammed in and out of you.

“Gonna come already, aren’t you? I can feel it, honey, come f’me.” He mumbled, his lips smeared against yours. He didn’t need to ask you twice, your hips bucking up against his. He kept his pace, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

“Austin!” You cried his name, clinging to him as the knot in your tummy unraveled. He too, came undone, the most gutteral, hoarse growl you’d ever heard come from him leaving his mouth as he spilled out inside of you, his arms shaking as he held himself hovering over you.

“My lord.” He laughed out in slight disbelief of the pleasure he’d just experienced, pulling out of you. He kissed your forehead, “how was that for you?”

Your head was spinning, the stars in your vision were starting to fade, however. “We’re gonna do that again.”

Austin smiled against your shoulder, “we are, but I think we should step into the shower f’now.”

[austinsmutler]

The Walls Have Ears | Austin!Elvis x Reader | One-Shot

Summary: While on tour with the carnival, Elvis takes you into the hall of mirrors for some privacy. Smut ensues.

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Reader (can also be irl Elvis x Reader)

What you’ll like: Smut, dom!elvis, Elvis adoring every bone in your body, Elvis being a cocky little shit, established relationship

Warnings: semi-public sex, teasing, light choking, creampie, general sexy fanfic stuff. Minors dni.

If any of the above will trigger you, go read Just Pretend instead- it's light, fluffy, and comes with 0 content warnings!

Word Count: 2846

A/N: Good lord this was fun to write. I hope you like it.

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want! Confess your sins, spill the gossip! Have a good time with it!)

“You can do anything, but lay offa my blue suede shoes!”

With a twang of the guitar, the song was over, and the audience (mainly young women) began pelting your boyfriend with their undergarments. Dating Elvis was many things, but you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to the sight of him smirking, holding up a particularly lacy pair of pink panties. The stage was so covered, it was a wonder anyone in the crowd had clothes left. He probably could have found a matching set if he’d looked hard enough.

Instead, Elvis laughed and tossed them at Scotty’s head, lowering his voice for the next song. 

“If you’re looking for trouble…”

You looked away before the next volley of intimates could be launched. Dating Elvis the man was easy; dating the god who took over onstage was hard.

“He certainly has a way with the women, doesn’t he?” The Colonel chuckled, coming up beside you backstage. You had a perfect side-view of Elvis, could just make out the sea of women in front of him past the glow of the stage lights. 

“He’s always been good with a crowd. Ever since our first school talent show, I knew he was special.” 

The older man studied you from the corner of his eye. “Yes, special.”

You ignored him as best you could- everything about the way the Colonel moved, looked, spoke, gave the impression he was hiding something. Making his own plans that nobody else could see coming. You watched every show from the sidelines with him, and he never seemed interested in Elvis or the music, never once swayed or tapped his foot. No, his eyes stayed glued to the crowd, the rapture on every young girl’s face as Elvis swayed and sang his heart out. The Colonel only ever saw dollar signs on that stage.

Anyone who could look at Elvis on stage and feel nothing was someone you couldn’t trust. But Elvis trusted him enough for the both of you, always insisted ‘He’s done alright by us so far, hasn’t he?’ and so you continued touring with the carnival. 

That didn't mean you had to stick around with him giving you that odd look, though.

You were walking around the fair grounds alone, waiting for the show to wrap up, when a hand grabbed yours from nowhere. You span around to see two blue eyes gleaming in amusement.

“Hey baby. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “I wasn’t scared.”

“No?”

“Nah. I knew you’d be coming to find me sometime soon.”

“Always.” Elvis promised. His eyes were wild, clearly still high from the adrenaline of his performance. He gave your hand a hard squeeze. “C’mon. Let’s go have some fun.”

He was dragging you forward before you could ask what he meant, leaving you almost running to keep up with his big strides. He was breezing past all the usual favourites: the ball toss, ferris wheel, rollercoaster, past the cotton candy, peanuts and popcorn. Soon a very specific destination came into view: the hall of mirrors.

It was closed- had been all week. 

“Elvis?” He slowed to let you catch your breath, arm around your waist to tug you close. You could feel how warm he was through his black lace shirt, the sweat from his performance palpable, even through your plain white button-up… not that you minded.

“Elvis? It’s closed.” You repeated with a frown. 

Elvis looked down at you with that famous lopsided grin- one you had been the first to see from him, which he’d mimicked in publicity shots because he knew what it did to you. It was meant as an inside joke on his first album cover, and now girls around the country were fawning over that smile. But it was all yours.

“I know. That’s why we’re going in.” He leaned so his breath was close to your ear, sending a shot of warmth right to your core. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You whimpered and tried unsuccessfully to cover it up with a cough. “Yes. Of course I do.”

“Come on.” He was tugging your arm again, but this time it was gentle, as if he wasn’t sure you’d follow, even as he held the door open for you. He made sure to close it shut behind you so nobody would see anything awry, even if they were looking.

It was lit up inside the hall as Elvis led you through, one hand in yours, until you were deep in the maze, surrounded by your own reflections. 

It was quiet in here- the music and noise of the carnival damped by the thin walls and mirrors. You knew how the maze worked- it needed people inside the walls to open the exit, and since this attraction was closed, there was no way out. So why had he insisted on coming?

Soft lips on yours answered the question. His kiss was firm but exploratory, testing the waters. Despite dating for years, some parts of your relationship were still so new he treated them like fine China. Physical acts were one such thing.

While your parents had allowed you to tour with your boyfriend for the summer, it was under the express rule that you slept in a separate hotel room, and that nothing untoward would happen.

Well, the Colonel did book you a lot of rooms. Whether or not you slept in them was another thing entirely. You and Elvis were young, dating since the first year of high school, and had other ideas. In your eyes, you were as good as married- and the first time he pressed into you, even though it was in a cheap hotel room, you were wed. 

This was different, though. You were careful not to be seen together in public acting too much like a couple. The way his hands were snaking up to cup your ass and wrap your legs around him, you weren’t exactly being subtle. The thought of that unlocked door at the beginning of the maze made your heart pump faster, the idea that anyone, at any moment, could come in and find you like this made every touch burn.

“This okay, angel?” Elvis murmured against your ear. 

Your arms held on to the back of his neck for dear life as you nodded, biting back a moan as he rubbed against you in just the right way. He was painfully hard between your thighs, and every thrust sent a shot of warmth to your center. The sounds leaving your mouth were pure scandal, muffled only when he kissed you as deeply as his tongue could reach.

“I’ve been thinkin’ bout this all day.” Elvis breathed, one hand snaking up your thigh to reach beneath your poodle skirt. He moved so slow it was hard to tell if he was testing or teasing or both. From the way his darkened eyes studied your every move, it was probably both. “Been thinkin’ bout taking you in here. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“What do you want to do?” You whimpered, his fingers coming to a pause just outside your underwear. 

Elvis pressed his forehead against yours and breathed, “Everything.”

You rolled your hips, trying to get him to move his hand, to rub against you, anything. How could he say that and stay so perfectly still? The smirk that overtook his face was infuriating as anything. Elvis knew the effect he had on women, but better than that, he knew the effect he had on you. He could have you melting into a puddle on the floor without even touching you, as long as he gave you the right look and said the right words.

His fingers found their way under your panties, teasing your entrance, and he let out a groan. “So wet for me already?”

“Always.” You met his gaze and wrapped your legs around him that much tighter. “Please, Elvis. I need you.”

You let out a yelp of surprise when his hand withdrew and he unwrapped your legs from around him, quickly spinning you around so your back was to him. Not that it mattered- you could see him from every angle in every mirror. More than that, you could see yourself for the first time, cheeks flushed, lips parted with want, eyes dark with lust. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” Elvis held your gaze in the mirror, his arms wrapping around you from behind to touch you everywhere. He cupped your neck for a minute, squeezing lightly, before making his way down to your breasts, unbuttoning your shirt just enough that your bra was visible. His fingers trailed down the sliver of skin between your breasts before making their way back up. Then his hands were under your bra, ghosting over your nipples and pulling unsightly sounds from your lips. “I want you to see what I see.”

His voice rumbled low, growling to himself as he trailed open-mouth kissed up your neck. That alone was almost too much: seeing his eyes so dark, the dishevelled look of you, the way you shook in his arms as you fought your own weak knees. You screwed your eyes shut, earning a sharp pinch to your nipple that made you jump. 

“No.” Elvis said simply. “Look at yourself, baby.”

Against your own feelings, you opened your eyes in time to see his hand making its way to the hem of your black poodle skirt, slowly hiking it up your thigh. You were completely leaning on him now, acutely aware of his hardness pressing into your ass, grinding slowly as his hand moved under your skirt.

“Keep them open.”

His fingers were back in their rightful place- just outside your underwear, shy of where you wanted them by less than an inch. If you moved right, he’d be on your clit. Unfortunately, his strong grip on your hip prevented any such rebellion. 

Instead, the hand under your skirt played rhythms on your inner thigh, ghosting over where you needed them most. Your breath hitched as his finger traced over your slit, no doubt feeling your wetness through your panties, but if it affected him he hid it well. His face didn’t change, studying yours in the mirror as you grew more hot and bothered by the second.

“Good girl,” He groaned into your ear, finally letting his fingers put pressure on your clit. You moaned so loudly he clamped a hand over your mouth. “Shh. The walls have ears in this place, baby. We gotta keep quiet.”

How was that possible when he chose that moment to plunge a finger into you? Elvis smirked at the sound you made through his fingers, hand not leaving your mouth. He found your favourite spot and ran a finger along there, concentrating his attention in a way he knew would drive you towards the edge, fast.

Your walls began to flutter around him and your eyes rolled into the back of your head, shutting tightly as you prepared to ride out- 

His fingers stopped where they were, still inside you, knuckle-deep. You opened your eyes and shot Elvis a look that made him chuckle. 

“I said keep your eyes open. You shut ‘em, not me.”

“Tease.” You rolled your hips, hand reaching up behind you to tangle in his hair. “They’re open again now. Wide open.”

His eyes darkened as you tugged, dragging his head close to the sweet spot on your neck. You knew what pulling on his hair did to him, especially when he had it all gelled up for a performance. The mussed-up look it gave him was one he wore only for you.

You batted your eyelashes and breathed, "I'm watching."

He swore. Before you could breathe, he had you face-first against the mirror, arms pinned above your head and hips pressed against him. 

“I was gonna wait, but…” Elvis licked his lips and looked at you in the mirror, the hungriest look you’d ever seen on another human being. He looked wild, nothing but mussed-up hair and blown-out pupils as he pulled his pants down just enough to position himself at your entrance. He paused and caught your gaze in the mirror. Even now, a question flashed through his eyes: Is this alright with you?

“Elvis.” You shifted your hips and met his gaze evenly, “Fuck me.”

That was all he needed. The hand that wasn’t holding your arms in place grabbed your hips and he entered you in one thrust, pulling a yelp of pleasure from somewhere deep within you. Your head fell down as you had no time to savour the sensation before he set a wild pace. 

Elvis pulled your hair back, forcing you to look at him. Your walls fluttered at the look on his face, the way his jaw was set and teeth grit as he fucked you with everything he had. 

Your hips rose to meet his every thrust- he was good with his fingers, but you were sure his cock could cure you of the worst moods. It had many times before. You were certain it would continue to do so. Elvis reached around and began rubbing your clit in a frenzy, breathing against the back of your neck,

“S’tight, baby, I ain’t gonna last long. I need you to come for me.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Between the way his cock worked in you, hitting your spot with every thrust, the way his fingers worked you with the expert skill of a guitar player, and the way he was looking at you in that mirror like you were the only thing that mattered- you came undone in moments. 

To his credit, Elvis slowed after your orgasm, giving you the short, deep thrusts you knew were designed to milk your pleasure for as much as it was worth. You could tell he was close, holding back by a thread. The renewed tension in his shoulders as his hands took your hips again, fingers digging into the flesh there with bruising strength; the way his eyes bored into you, not studying you, no deep thoughts bubbling in his mind. When he looked at you like that, it felt like the most honest way a man can look at a woman. 

“S’good for me.” Elvis panted, pulling you up by the hair as his thrusts became more erratic. Your back was flush against his, the lace of his shirt rubbing harshly through the fabric of yours. 

The image in the mirror was positively debased. Your mouth hung open, red lipstick smudged ever so slightly. Your breasts bounced with every thrust inside your slightly-askew bra. Elvis had his head nestled in the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses there, never once breaking eye contact in the mirror. He looked just as debauched as you, despite his clothes being mostly-buttoned, pants pulled down just enough to do what he needed to you. Then there was the look in his eyes that told you how much he was loving this.

Elvis' breath fanned out over your neck as he panted, “I perform, and when I look at that crowd I know I could have any woman there.”

You whimpered as his hand came back up to your throat with a possessive squeeze.

“But I don’t want any of them. Never. Not one of them is as good as you.” 

You believed it, too. The desperate look in his eyes begged you to believe him. His thrusts were faster now, pulling delicious sounds from your throat that only egged him on. 

“They throw themselves at me, and all I can think about is finally getting off that stage and finding you. Doing this.” Elvis growled against your throat, pushing you until you were bent over, leaning on the mirror for balance. You kept your head up to meet his gaze and watch as he repeated the same words with every thrust, so low you could barely hear,

“Only you. Only you. Just you.”

Then he came, taking a second orgasm from you as he went, your walls milking him for all he was worth until he went still, withdrawing after a long moment of panting against your back, one arm around your waist as Elvis struggled to hold you both up.

Afterward, you helped him put himself back together, smoothing down his hair and re-buttoning his lace shirt. He did the same for you, re-buttoning your shirt with such tenderness it would have been hard to believe he’d just taken you so fiercely, the evidence of which was safely hidden beneath the many layers of your poodle skirt and petticoats. 

Elvis pressed a kiss to your lips. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but giggle, sore in all the right places. “I hope this place stays out of order.”

He gave you that lopsided grin again before taking your hand. “C’mon. Lemme get you something to eat.”

“Popcorn?”

He tucked you close to his side with one arm around you, feeling for a way out with the other. 

“Whatever you want, baby, I’ll give you.”

[illfoandillfie]

Kintober Day 7: Public Transport

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Lucy Boynton x Reader

Words: 1,207

Warnings: public sex, fingering, mentions of oral, mentions of strap ons

A/N: This is a tad late but work was really busy all day so i didn't get the chance to finish it until somewhat late at night.

You were not the only inebriated people on the train that night. Which was fair enough, it was nearly three in the morning on a weekend, people were making their way home after nights out. You and Lucy had found yourselves seats together at the back of the carriage, on the right side of the doorway that lead to the next carriage. Your night had gone on a bit longer than you’d expected but it was your friends’ thirtieth birthday and every time you tried to leave she’d pout and tell you it was mean to ditch her on her special day and convince you to stay for one more drink or one more song or five more minutes. Unfortunately, delaying going home had also meant delaying having sex. You’d wanted to squeeze in a quickie before you went out but Lucy had said it’d be more fun to wait, always keen to tease you a little, and now you were cursing her. Not least of all because she’d kept teasing you throughout the night.  

She’d worn a tantalisingly short dress that made her look incredible and then spent the whole evening touching you in ways that seemed innocent but actually just made you feel incredibly warm. You’d caught more than one glimpse of her underwear as she leaned over bars, which you were sure were not accidents, and whenever she’d wanted to talk to you she’d whispered in your ear. Apparently, during the course of your relationship, you’d developed a Pavlovian reaction to her perfume because every time she got close you’d be overwhelmed by the smell and your desire for her. And that wasn’t even mentioning that every time she agreed to stay longer she’d promised that as soon as she got home she’d make it up to you, going into explicit detail about just what she had planned, or that whenever you ended up dancing she made sure she was pressed tight to you, grabbing your arse and subtly feeling you up. So, sitting there beside her on the train, you were quite worked up, and counting down the stops until you were home. But you suspected you weren’t the only one in such a state.  

Lucy was sitting as close as she physically could without being on your lap. She was acting normal but whenever she looked at you her gaze fell directly to your lips, and she kept grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. You needed to relieve some of the pressure before you burst, and you thought it was likely she needed to as well.  So you kissed her.   She giggled but when you tried to pull back she stopped you, sliding a hand into your hair to hold you in place. She shifted forward onto the edge of her seat, forcing you to lean back into yours.  “We should have got an Uber,” you said softly when she did let you go, unable to take your eyes from her pink lips.   “Why?” she asked, laying her hand on your thigh, her fingertips just on the inside and stroking you softly.  You lay your hand over hers, “We’re on a train remember.”  “No one will notice,” she countered, continuing to stroke your skin, even hampered by your palm.   You looked around, torn between your desire and knowing you were in public. But the carriage was mostly empty and those on board were either close to passed out or entirely wrapped up in their own groups.  Lucy placed a finger against your jaw and turned your gaze back to her, “Just keep looking at me and be quiet and no one will know.”  You gasped as Lucy’s fingers dipped under your dress and began to rise higher and higher. When had you moved your hand? It wasn’t important. What was important was that Lucy was rubbing you through your underwear. You let your legs spread a little wider and she smiled as she worked her fingers into your knickers, stroking your cunt directly.   “You’re so wet,” she giggled softly, pulling her fingers free to suck on them.  You whined at the loss.  “So I should keep going then?”  “Yeah,”  “But we’re on a train.”  “I know, it’s so wrong,” you groaned, “But please don’t stop.”  Lucy laughed but nodded and immediately began touching you again. You sank a bit lower in your seat, trying to give her better access. The angle was a little awkward and she was impeded by your underwear but she managed to slip two fingers into your hole, slowly thrusting them in and out as much as she could. It wasn’t really enough and you had to bite your lip to keep from whining.  “I know baby,” she cooed, leaning closer to you, “It’s not enough is it? But I really just want to make sure you’re ready for my strap as soon as we get home.”  You whimpered but Lucy relented her teasing and moved up to circle your clit.  

It didn’t take long with how wound up you were for Lucy to get you off, all the while reminding you to be quiet in case anyone realised what was happening. You clutched the edge of the seat as your whole body tightened, Lucy continuously rubbing you through your climax. She let you pull yourself together, resuming her soft touches along your thigh. But, after a few minutes she leant back in her seat and let her own legs spread a bit wider.  “Shouldn’t you return the favour?”  “You’re evil,” you hissed and then, after a beat, “God I want to eat you out.”  “I wouldn’t say no but I think it’d probably be a little more conspicuous.”  “As soon as we’re home I will,”  “Yeah? Tell me about it.” She pushed, gently pulling your hand to the hem of her dress.  “I won’t be able to wait until we’re in the bedroom,” you softly said, hoping only she would be able to hear, as you began stroking her slit through her underwear, “I’ll drop to my knees just inside the door and crawl under your skirt and lick your cunt until you tell me to stop.”  “Why would I t-ell you to stop,” Lucy closed her eyes as you worked your way under the leg of her undies, spreading her wetness around, angling your fingers to press against her clit.  “Because you promised me your strap. You’d let me make you cum a few times first of course. But that would just make me even wetter and you’d have to fuck me.”  “Mmhmm, make you –” she cut herself off with a small gasp, “make you so fucked out and brainless.”  “Please. Wanna be your good girl,”  Lucy came at that, just as worked up as you had been, unable to resist the picture you were painting. You didn’t stop until she signalled for you to and then slowly withdrew your fingers and sucked on one, trying to look innocent and cute.   “Now who’s evil,” She chided, bumping your shoulder with hers.   You could only laugh, leaning your head on her shoulder and settling back into your seat.  Lucy reached for your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours, “Only a couple more stops to go.”

[nobedofroses]

Day 2: Floor Sex

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

warnings: a quick fingering, p-in-v sex

words: 658

a/n: hehehe love some reunion sex

Last, Full List

Keep reading

[absorbedbutler]

Oh my the things you’re writing…everything is so good!

Okay so, could you write something about just dry humping with Austin? Idk maybe reader is kinda shy-ish so he’s just dirty talking and y’know all that good stuff.

me looking at this with my dry humpingobsession 👀

your legs straddled his lap, an impromptu makeout session quickly beating up to be much more.

hands on either side of his throat, you took what you wanted and he gladly gave it to you.

feeling the hardness in between your thighs your brain immediately pushed your hips down to grind on on it, him pulling away and kissing his teeth the second you started moving.

“don’t start something you can’t finish” he said looking up into your eyes, lids half dazed.

it felt so good, different than what you and him usually did, but so good.

moving your grip to his shoulders, you shoved yourself down harder onto him, high pitched whines coming from you.

his smug smirk and one liners deemed to immediately leave him, his head falling to your chest.

he bucked up to meet you, adding the friction you needed to start feeling the knot in your stomach.

while you were completely clothed, you felt so exposed to him. the extreme eye contact he was giving you had you panting and moving faster against him.

“gonna make me cum in my jeans like a middle schooler, baby.” he said before going to leave marks and kisses on your cleavage.

he was up against the headboard, him coming back up from your chest and resting his head on the wood behind him.

from the iron grip on his shoulders he could tell you were close, him also feeling his release build.

your thighs burned but you couldn’t stop, you let him take the control and move you against him.

you wanted to be close to him, like basically in his skin but you settled for hugging him into you.

with a few more snaps of your hips an overwhelming feeling of pleasure took over you and all you could do was hold onto him until it died down.

you could also feel his release under you, hiding your face in the collar of his shirt.

for the short amount of time you and him rested and let your adrenaline die down, you were sure you could die happy.

[butler-on-beale-street]

Skin Tight | A!Elvis X Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, slight taste of voyeurism, guided masturbation, Oral (fem. receiving, switch of dominance, graphic descriptions of sex, orgasm denial, teasing, touch of humiliation at the end if you squint??

Word Count: 5K (it's a long one, folks)

A/N: I received this request from multiple sources, but originally from a DM sent from @horselover1992. With help from several nonnies and @cosmickiszka.

Based on a myth that Bill Belew discovered that Elvis had an orgasm in his jumpsuit during the 68 special.

This fic was was particularly challenging to write in a way that wasn't tacky or sleazy, but I am proud of what I wrote and it is HELLA spicy. I hope you guys enjoy!

“Oh, I’ll touch you, baby,” You told Elvis. “You just can’t cum.” 

“Now how is that fair? You’re torturing me,” He whined as you took his cock in your hands, playfully stroking it up and down, choosing varying speeds, stopping and starting as you pleased. 

“You always perform better when you’re frustrated…Steve’s saying that you’re having a hard time on set.” You looked at Elvis, leveling your gaze with him. “That you’re not on.” You moved your hands from his cock to his belly, grazing your fingertips slowly up his body, enjoying how solid and manly he felt underneath you. 

“Well, baby–” He raised his hands in a shrug. “I haven’t played live in almost ten years.” He was smiling, but behind the expression, you could see darkness dwelling within his soul. It hurt you to think that he was withholding some secret insecurity–and in that darkness that you saw in the glint of his eye, you could tell that it was haunting him. 

“That might be true,” You said, crawling on top of him, kissing his chest and swirling your fingertips in the light hair that adorned it, a contrast to the mink color of his coiffed head of hair. “But that doesn’t mean that Elvis Presley can’t have the world in his hands at the turn of a dial.” You walked your fingers up his chest and up his neck until you made your way to his mouth, dragging down the fullness of his bottom lip. You adored the way he looked at you, his arms pulled possessively around your body. He grinned bigger and bigger with your encouragement. “Really, E.P., you just need to get back to your roots.” 

“You mean the sex,” He said, rolling over with you underneath him. You squealed as he tossed you over in bed, his hands scrounging for your sides, tickling you and bending to kiss you anywhere he could reach. 

“No! No!” You squealed, trying your best to evade his fingertips. He continued to chuckle. 

“You’re a minx. You know that?” He said, kissing and dragging his lips about your bare skin. 

You chuckled softly in response. “I’m only supportive of your needs,” You responded, biting your bottom lip.

“And what exactly is that when you won’t give me the satisfaction of making love to my beautiful girlfriend, hm?” He said, reaching your lips, placing a soft kiss upon them. 

“I’ll give you everything you want and more if you play the special like your life depends on it, baby. You’ll get rewarded, I promise. Also, fuck what the Colonel thinks about turning this into a Christmas special.” You eyed him fiercely. “You make this moment yours, Honey. Don’t let him pull you downward. Or anyone else for that matter.” Elvis stayed quiet, nodding in response as he rubbed your thigh lovingly with the tips of his fingers. He knew that you were speaking the truth, it was just up to him to turn it into reality.

 “You’re right, baby. You’re absolutely right.”

***

“Goddamn it,” Elvis spat. “Ope, sorry ladies and gentlemen,” He apologized, adjusting the microphone as the audience giggled and chirped in response to his profanity. “I’m still just as much a sinner as I was when I did the whole–” He wiggled, shaking his legs vigorously, causing the studio audience to begin screaming. “Y’all like that?” He asked, fully enthused with the crowd’s reaction. Women and girls alike, caused Elvis’s smirk to grow wider and wider, his beauty filling the entire room with unspoken lust and adoration. Elvis knew that he was beautiful. He knew that he had a one of a kind voice as well. What he didn’t know was if his career would ever amount to more than being the ‘good ole boy’ for Paramount Pictures and Twentieth Century Fox. 

“Alright, Elvis. Ladies,” Steve Binder addressed with a kind smile, stepping onto the stage. His cheeks slightly blushed as he watched their gaze linger a bit too long on Elvis. “We’re gonna take a break for lunch. The studio has provided catering on the back patio.” Steve offered a kind smile to everyone. “Thank you for sitting through these long hours of rehearsal. I’m sure I’m not speaking for Elvis when I say that we appreciate your willingness.”

Elvis nodded. “If I could, I’d give each of ya a kiss,” he said before bringing his palms together as if he were praying, bringing them to his face, kissing his lips before pointing the gesture to the audience. Elvis walked off stage with Steve, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as the producer ran a finger over a masterlist of each number. Steve pretended to give Elvis pointers on specific scenes, as they walked off stage. “Now Steve, just tell me what the hell you wanted to say already,” Elvis huffed, planting his hands on his hips.

“Well, Elvis. Can I be frank with you?” Steve said, pulling his colored glasses down his nose. 

“I have a feelin’ I don’t have a choice,” Elvis answered, wiping sweat from his upper lip with his thumb and pointer finger. 

Steve returned an apologetic grin. “You’re missing cues, E.P. Forgetting words,” Steve said, idly tapping his clipboard with the tip of his finger. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Are you getting sleep?” He asked. 

“Steve, are you serious? Sleep?” Elvis raised his eyebrows, adjusting his step. “You really think I’m getting sleep? I am Goddamn terrified right now.” Elvis swept a hand through his hair, a habit that had become comforting to him over the years. 

Steve turned his wrist to look at his watch. “We have an hour until the sit down performance. I need you to figure it out, E.P. Meanwhile, I’ve gotta make sure we actually have an audience.”

You watched Elvis and Steve talking from where you stood. Elvis was noticeably stressed. You could see it coursing through his entire body. It certainly didn’t help that he was wearing an incredibly tight and hot leather jumpsuit. You certainly didn’t mind the view, though. You decided to walk up to them and handle business yourself. “Steve, I’d like to talk to Elvis for a moment if that’s okay,” You began politely, placing a hand on Elvis's nearest shoulder. 

“Of course, of course. Elvis, I’ll see you afterwhile.” Elvis nodded and smiled before watching Steve walk off.

“Honey,” You began. “Everyone can see that you’re nervous,” You said, reaching out for his hand. “Who are you?” You asked, tilting your head down to find his eyes. 

“I–” He shook his head dismissively. “I don’t wanna do this, baby.” His eyebrows furrowed with frustration, but you weren’t going to take no for an answer. You reached for his hand and pulled him off set and down a long hallway to the nearest elevator. Once you stepped in, you pulled Elvis down to you with your hand at the nape of his neck. 

“You are Elvis Aaron Presley. You aren’t someone’s water boy, do you hear me?” You said sternly, daring him to look away from you. “You are going to take those nerves and channel them into something useful. Otherwise, it’s over. It’s just over, Elvis. Do you understand me?” You were taking a risk speaking to him this way, but out of anyone in his inner circle that could, it would have been you. “You haven’t worked this hard to live the rest of your life playing it safe.”

“You’re right, baby. You’re right,” He said, dejecting his gaze from you. You turned your head to watch the elevator doors open. “You’re hearing me, but you aren’t listening. Let me remind you who Elvis is.” You say decidedly, pulling him into the hallway towards his dressing room. Inside were a few staff members–a stylist, a makeup artist and an intern, organizing costumes on a garment rack. You looked at them all. “Hello, Elvis and I would like a moment of privacy, please.” The staff turned to you, pausing before they looked at Elvis for approval. Elvis lifted his hand, waving them away in dismissal. 

“Thank you guys. I’ll call you back in if I need you. I’d like to talk with Y/n. Alone.” They smiled at Elvis before finishing up what they were doing, walking out and leaving you two alone. You walked to the door as they exited, stopping to engage the lock before turning around and approaching Elvis slowly. “You don’t listen to encouragement…certainly not admonishment either. Sit down, baby.” You pulled an acrylic chair out from underneath the nearest vanity, placing it in the center of the room. Elvis looked at you suspiciously. “Sit. Down.” 

“Okay, mama.” He said slowly, stepping in front of the chair, pulling on the legs of the jumpsuit before he finally sat down on it. “Get comfortable because you won’t be leaving that spot for a while.” 

His eyebrows rose with mischief, bringing his fingertips up to scratch at the short stubble on his face. “What are you up to, you she-devil?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” You said, closing the distance between yourself and Elvis, pulling at his knees to separate them before stepping in between them, running your fingertips down the expanse of his chest. His hands moved from his side to snake up your hips, but you reached to pull them away. “Nope,” You said, reaching upward to wiggle a pointer finger at him.

“Mama, just let me touch you. It’ll make me perform better,” He whined, his full lips falling into a pout. 

“No you won’t. If you step on stage only thinking about sex, I think you might take some risks, what do you think?” You asked, pulling your manicured fingertip just below his chin, tilting his head upward.

“I don’t know, I think I’ll just forget the words more,” He said with a crooked smirk. You leaned in and kissed him on the lips before backing away from him, pulling his stubborn hands away from your body.

“Not a chance. You get off on watching, don’t lie.” You replied. 

“Girl, what the hell are you talking about?” Elvis asked, slapping his hands over his knees. 

“Maybe I should just show you…” You murmured seductively, your heels clicking against the tile floor as you reached for another chair, dragging into the center of the room, opposite Elvis. You sat close to him, but not close enough for him to be able to touch you, and it was a completely intentional decision. 

You were wearing a skirt, which was ironically convenient for what you had up your sleeve. “You know, baby. Seeing you up on stage in all of that leather–I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to take care of myself,” You said, walking your fingers under your skirt, pulling at your underwear and slipping them down your legs. A wet spot was noticeable in the center of the crotch, which made you grin. You threw them at Elvis to catch, watching his eyebrows raise. You watched as he rubbed the wetness between his thumb and pointer finger before looking back at you. 

“Do I really turn you on that much?” He asked with a wicked grin. You answered by nodding, pulling your skirt up to your waist, exposing the bareness of your lower body. 

“I’m feeling it more than ever right now,” You answered, pulling your fingertips through your folds. You allowed yourself to sink into the chair so that you could get more comfortable. You watched Elvis adjusting in his seat and you could see the bulge growing in his pants, even through the thickness of the jumpsuit. 

“You are evil for using this against me,” He said. “I can’t get this thing off if I tried,” he said, attempting to shrug out of the tight leather. 

“Nice try. Sit and watch. Be a good boy for me,” You said, pulling your fingers up to your lips, licking them before bringing them back down to your clit, rolling it in several varying circles. You exhaled into the room, stretching out and relaxing your body as much as you could. “Don’t you wish you could be down here right now, Elvis? What do you call it? Taking care of Business?” You continued to finger yourself, using your own wetness to loop around your sensitive clit. 

“Baby–” Elvis said, watching you with a glazed over expression. 

“Tell me what you’d do to me if I let you touch me,” You asked. He looked at you, his eyes half-lidded with lust. You watched as he fisted his crotch, squeezing his erection. You had told him not to touch himself, but you’d let him get away with it this time. 

“Trust me baby. I’d take care of you. Everyone would hear us fucking in this room and there wouldn’t be a damn thing anyone could do about it,” He said matter-of-factly. 

“How would you fuck me, Elvis? Seems as you can’t touch me. I want to hear you say it.” You rubbed spirals into your clit, feeling your body reflexively arch against your fingers as you worked. You couldn’t help but moan.

“Since you want to tease, I’d teach you a lesson. See, people see me walk on stage dressed head to toe in leather. They dream about what it would be like to spend a night with Elvis Presley, but they don’t actually get the chance to do it, do they?” You shook your head to give him an answer.  

“No they don’t,” you answered. “Tell me what you want me to do to myself, Elvis,” You ordered, giving him the tiniest bit of control. 

“I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers. Close your eyes while you imagine me being the one to do it.” You bit at your bottom lip as he spoke, enjoying the way he still manifested control even without the physical element. You moved your fingertips from your clit to your entrance, inserting them inside. You curled up inside as best as you could, squeezing yourself around your fingers. 

“It’s not as good as you, Elvis.” You murmured, your voice falling out in more of a whimper than you had intended. 

“I’d fix that, but you won’t let me touch you, baby.” He said, sitting back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest, his eyebrows raised in a challenge. You eyed him for several moments before finally giving in–but not all the way. 

“Come here.” You commanded finally. 

“I can touch you?” He asked, springing forward. You nodded your head with a grin. 

“Only thing is, you can’t touch yourself. So if that’s good enough for you, go ahead. That’s the deal.” You said, pulling your hands from yourself.

“Don’t worry, mama. I’m a giver. I get off on being a generous lover,” He said, getting on his knees, placing his thumb on your clit, rolling lazy circles upon it. You held your breath as you watched him lean forward, flicking his tongue against your entrance. You felt the heat from his breath looping around, flooding your core with need for him to ravage you in any way he could. You’d have to stop to remember that you only benefit from the tips of his fingers and from his mouth–you sat there for a moment mentally kicking yourself for the boundary you put on Elvis’s performance, but you weren’t going to walk backward now. You would take what you could get. 

“Open your little eyes, honey. What are you thinkin’ about?” Elvis asked, breaking from you. 

“Just you, Elvis. I only ever think about you,” You answered honestly. You watched him as you spoke, watching his gaze change from one of curiosity to one of determination. 

“Well for now, you’ll only be thinking of my tongue,” He said before returning to you, licking long stripes through your folds, replacing the touch of his thumb with his tongue, rolling it in spirals around your swollen clit. You couldn’t help but whimper from where you sat, bringing your hands to ruffle his hair, pulling him firmly against you. He hummed in response, quickening his speed, flicking his tongue against you, using the fullness of his lips to close around you, sucking and pulling at your delicate skin.  

“Elvis, oh–” You whimpered, bringing one of your hands to his shoulder, squeezing and pushing; an ironic need filled your body to beg him to stop. At the same time, if he had, you would have scrambled to grab him back by whatever you could get your hands on. His hand snaked up to find yours, lacing his fingers with yours, letting you push and pull as you wished. You felt his barely-there stubble beginning to chafe against your thighs, but nothing in your mind, body or soul cared. You’d continue the game of playing the one in charge, but you both knew the truth. You scooted further in your seat, pushing yourself quite literally into Elvis’s mouth. His response was to disconnect his hand from your own, moving to pull you to him by your hips, his tongue ringing your pussy in wide circles before finally teasing your entrance once more. You brought your hands up to your chest, pinching your nipples through your shirt, doing anything you could to keep yourself busy. Unintelligible moans slipped from your throat. “Please, Please, Please,” You said, short of begging. Elvis came up for air, chuckling lightly. 

“Don’t worry baby. Keep still,” he purred. His face was flushed, both from friction and exertion. You did as he instructed, staying in position as he pulled your legs apart further, burying his himself into you once more. This time, he increased his speed and pressure, pushing himself against you, the strength of his body pressing you firmly against the back of the chair, your head and neck tilted uncomfortably, though you couldn’t care to do anything about it. Everyone on the planet knew about Elvis’s lips; he surely never hid the lip curl he’d been banking on since the beginning of his career, not to mention the effortless curve of his cupid's bow, matched with the plump pout of his bottom lip. He had every girl in America, if not the world, on their knees begging to be kissed; only you got something more. He moved his top and bottom lip feverishly against you, the flat of his tongue moving in and out of you, swirling your salty-sweet slick upon your clit and the surrounding area. 

“Elvis, baby, I–I–” You blurted, letting your eyes roll back as he continued to work. You felt him breathing heavily against your skin, and knew that he was just as tired as you were. His fingertips dug into the softness of your skin. In the quiet of the room, the only thing you could hear were the obscene noises that he made between your legs. You thought you were hearing things at first, so you focused further. He was moaning in pleasure as he finished you, but both of his hands were visible. The realization sent you into a flurry deep within your core, desire exploding from every firing synapse. You closed your eyes and let yourself fall apart against him, your legs shaking uncontrollably with pleasure, your entire body pocked in a layer of goosebumps. Behind your closed eyes, you saw white at first, before prisms in almost every color began to appear like fractals, shattering into smaller and smaller pieces until all you could see was blackness, pulling you back down to earth in a sweaty, moaning heap. Elvis rose from below you, leaning down into you to grab you into a breathless kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, which filled you with unmatched euphoria. His face was sticky with sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, showing obvious proof of your shared rendezvous. He parted from the kiss, grinning against your lips. 

“How’d I do?” He asked simply before standing up off of you, raking his hand through his hair. You stared at him for a long moment, unsure of the words to say. 

“Wow.” Was all you could say, pulling at your skirt, inching it back down your thighs. He chuckled in a sing-sing tone before leaning back down to kiss you softly on the lips.

“Thank you, baby” He said softly, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles.

“For what?” You asked, raising your eyebrows with confusion. He eyed you with a wide smirk, his fingertips stroking at his chin. 

“Just thank you,” He said simply, before turning around and looking at himself in the mirror, picking up a comb and pulling it through his jet black coif. “I look fresh out the loony bin,” he said, turning to you. 

“No, you just look—like you just had sex,” You said honestly, unable to hide your own grin. “Think you can perform?” You asked, standing up from the chair, straightening out your outfit and turning to the mirror to fix yourself up as best you could. 

“Baby, I’ll perform like the world depends on it,” He answered, walking to the door, pulling it open. He caught a staff member passing the door and got his attention. “Hey, uh, can you get Linda in here to fix this mess,” He asked, gesticulating to his unkempt hair. 

***

Half an hour later, you sat in the back of the audience, waiting for Elvis to walk back on stage. “Attention ladies and gentleman,” the cameraman announced. “Please remember to applaud when the lights go up. I’m sure you guys don’t need any help going wild for Elvis, do ya?” He asked, getting his answer when the crowd went wild, many of the young women screaming and hollering Elvis’s name. 

“Going live in twenty seconds,” A shout from the other side of the set bellowed. They began to count down the seconds, the crowd rumbling with anticipation. You turned your head to see Andy, an audio technician throwing up an “ok” sign, before the “Recording in Progress” red light began to glow from above everyone’s heads. Suddenly, and like a holy spectre, Elvis appeared on stage before the entire audience, grinning from ear to ear. He searched for you, landing his gaze on you finally, winking with the oh-so-famous lip curl that everyone loved. The audience roared.  

“What? What are you lookin’ at me for?” Elvis said, addressing the crowd, his tone liliting playfully. He chuckled softly. They continued to squeal. “Alright, alright, you can stop all that, I love you too,” he continued, blowing a flirty kiss to the girls sitting beside the stage. They only continued to scream, and you couldn’t help but grin bigger and bigger each time. 

Elvis turned to the band and they began to play, trumpets blasting out a spectacular medley before Elvis grabbed the microphone, turning swiftly to the audience with a knowing smirk.

Well, it's one for the money two for the show

Three to get ready now go, cat, go

But don't you step on my blue suede shoes

Well you can do anything but

Lay off of my blue suede shoes

Well, you can knock me down, step in my face

Slander my name all over the place

Do anything that you want to do

But uh-uh honey, lay off of my shoes

Don't you step on my blue suede shoes

You can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes

Now let's go cats!

Elvis was enigmatic on stage. You knew the real Elvis. You knew how nervous he was to return to the stage. Though this one was particularly small, this wasn’t the one that terrified him. It was the world’s stage. If he was nervous now, he left no visible trace within the performance. You watched as he danced around the stage, twisting, bending, crouching and gesticulating, his hands gesticulating every which way. Throughout the performance, he tossed tissues into the audience, pieces of fuzz that had landed on his face…you realized that Elvis’s fans were as hungry as ever, willing to take any and every piece from him that they could. You watched him emerge from a type of metamorphosis that couldn’t be described in words. Elvis lived his music as if it were worship–a sermon that reverberated through every bone in his body. You crossed your ankles as you watched him, proud of yourself for giving the man on stage even the smallest bit of confidence, though you knew you weren’t the creator of it; merely the messenger. 

Elvis played the rest of that night like no other before. Where he had been timid and reserved before, he was like a forest set on fire by a lightning strike. Energy burned through every single second, filling every audience member with passion for music, for the entertainment, but more importantly, for him. You watched the women in the audience twisting in their seats, their expressions filled with awe and longing. You witnessed ecstacy on their faces as if Elvis were personally delivering each one of them an orgasm sealed with a kiss. For a long time, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Yes, you were aware that Elvis was beautiful and that he had a worldwide fanbase, but this was something completely different. Women and men alike looked at the man in front of them like their own devilish messiah. You watched the lust in their gaze, paired with an insecurity of what was happening in front of their eyes. When Elvis was finally done with the performance, the crowd whined collectively. It was a smart move to leave them wanting more. When the cameras finally cut, you walked backstage to Elvis’s dressing room to find him and congratulate him. 

“Baby! That was phenomenal! Just un-unbelievable. Wow!” You said, stepping into the room. He stood inside, gulping down a glass of water with a towel wrapped around his neck. 

“Thank you, baby,” He said, bending to kiss you as you stepped into his embrace. 

“Now to get this damn thing off,” He said, pulling at the leather. “Lemme get wiggled out of this thing and we’ll get ready to go home, okay? Run off and find Steve. Maybe see if the Colonel is still standing upright,” he added with a soft chuckle, kissing you once more. “I’ll come find you, baby.” You nodded, pecking him three more times on the lips before leaving him in his dressing room with Bill Belew and another staff member. You watched as they began to peel the outfit off of Elvis. You couldn’t help but grin as you shut the door behind you. 

You wandered around the studio, eventually finding Steve sitting on the main stage, puffing on a cigarette with his arms crossed across his chest. He eyed you as you walked towards him. “He really put on one hell of a show,” He said, raising his eyebrows. You could tell he was impressed, but also a bit skeptical. “It’s strange though, he started out the day like a wobbly baby deer,” He said, snickering. You stepped forward, sticking out your hand. He handed you his cigarette and you took it, taking a few drags for yourself. 

“He really turned a corner, didn’t he?” You said, unable to stop the crooked grin snaking across your face. 

“Put on a show for him?” He asked, snatching back the cigarette with a grin. 

“Mm, Maybe. Maybe not,” You said, shrugging within your attempt to feign innocence. 

“Well, whatever you did,” he paused. “Might have helped earn his career back.” 

***

You found yourself milling about, heading to Elvis’s dressing room. He had been gone for much longer than you expected. Just as you arrived at the door of his dressing room, Elvis’s costume designer, Bill Belew walked out with the jumpsuit on a hanger. “Excuse me, Miss,” He said, stepping to the side to let you enter. You knocked on the open door before entering. 

“Come on in, baby,” Elvis said, sitting in a chair dressed in a fresh outfit. His hair was still wet from showering. “Sorry.  it took a while to get that damn thing off,” He said, shaking a towel against his head, creating a ring of static around his head, making you giggle. You stepped into his embrace, smoothing down his hair as he pulled you against him by his hips. 

“Ready to go?” You asked softly, bringing your hands down to squeeze his shoulders lovingly. 

“Yeah, baby. Come on,” He stood, pulling you beside him by your shoulder, turning his head to kiss you on the top of yours. You walked as a pair out of the dressing room into the hallway where Bill stood, carefully drying out the suit by pulling it inside out, inspecting every inch of leather. You were certain that you both saw it at the same time because you felt Elvis straighten like a board. Bill’s hands paused as he inspected the garment. In the center of the crotch of the suit, there was a noticeable, transparent stain. You couldn’t help but stare at it. Bill was the first to talk. “We’ll just have to get this cleaned up a bit more…thoroughly,” He said, sighing softly, putting the suit back on the hanger and back on the rack. 

Elvis turned his gaze to yours, his cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and arousal. “Sorry Bill, I got a bit too excited on stage, I guess,” Elvis answered, pulling a hand to the nape of his neck as he spoke. 

“Don’t worry one bit, Elvis. That’s why we’ve got multiple suits,” He said, nodding softly. Bill was embarrassed; it was evident in his flushed cheeks and loss of eye contact. Elvis patted Bill on the shoulder. “Thank you, Bill. I’ve got some new ideas for some jumpsuits. I’ll give you a call.” Elvis exchanged a few more polite words before stepping away with you. 

“Whoops,” He whispered softly in your ear. You couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I’d say it worked, don’t you think?” You said softly, taking his hand. 

“Yes, yes it did, but now I’m more pent up than a whore in a nunnery.” You bumped him with your shoulder. 

“Elvis!” You spat softly. “Sh!” 

“Let’s go home. I could use some stress relief,” He said, smacking your ass from behind, causing you to yelp flirtatiously. 

He squeezed your hand reassuringly as he led you to the back exit of the studio. “I can help,” you answered simply. 

Taglist: @mamaspresley @anestesia-mxm @misspygmypie @austin-butlers-gf @cozacorner @she-is-juniper @shimmeringlights44 @mariposa-mila @austinelvisimagines @sagesolsticewrites @guns-n-queen @anangelwhodidntfall @harley-thurd @bamitzzsam @annakatf @suitrry @eurusthewanderer @domaniquessidehoe @spencer-is-amazing @kittenlittle24 @softmullet @cb97slut @hunterthecharmer @mirandastuckinthe80s @puppykitt @stargiirl27 @maddieks-blog @kyddosebastian @girlnairb @its-funny-til-its-not @im-just-star-dust @bobbykennedyfan @venus-haze @groovydeputyfestivalkid @hockeyfootballhoe @21bruhs @thebeatlesbitch @dangerdolll @coffee-addict21 @kingelviscreole @adoreyouusugar @slutforblueeyes @theinvisiblecapricorn @ghxst-heart @yagirlalexx @sapph1re @madzandflowerz31 @kaycinema @theloveoftoms @annamarie16 @omgellenlouise @re3kin @feverdawg @cutie-ghost

[goldenj0]

trouble

warnings — 18 + innocence kink + age gap (readers in her 20’s, he’s in his mid 40’s!!) + daddy kink + house wife kink + breeding kink+ beard kink + cum play + slight degradation + overstimulation + bucky being an absolute menace

summary — act like one get treated like one.

a/n — please read the warnings! dads best friend bucky? absolutely!! because im so in love with this man and the beard does things to me. many more too cum;)

© my work is not to be transferred or copied! I work hard and would appreciate it if you respect me!! however you do have permission to like, comment and reblog all the time!!!

Jealousy, any man's kryptonite. It was the wrinkles on his sunkissed forehead, death grip around his glass and drowning out the nonsense of the men in front of him. It was some over the top, all out, summer bash that your dad’s company was throwing at some vineyard in the Hamptons. He swears you’d been making heart eyes at a younger man all day but he knew your eyes only ever belonged to him. He felt seventeen again — crushing hard on the girl of his dreams. The girl who made his stomach do somersaults, made his heart beat through his ears— that just made him weak for her. 

He wanted to be the one next to you, arm around your waist tucking you into his side. His lips brushing against you as your eyes widened when something caught your interest. He needed a reminder that you were his. So when his steel eyes connected with his favorite doe eyes you knew what he needed— you. 

“Bambi, been driven' me fuckin’ crazy all night.” Burgendy lips pressed against your jawline. “This dress? Trouble." His lips slotting against yours, "You’re trouble.” Hands roaming his wonder. “You’re about to feel me right there,” Cold fingers pressing against your body. Right where they belonged.

“Need to be close to that delicate heart of yours.” Heavy. Everything that was spoken between you two always held weight. A promise of belonging to one another. 

“Want you to feel me spreading through your body, making its way up. Please, Bambi.” 

Warm palms against his scruff that lines his sharp jaw line. He grew it out after you told him you loved the way it felt when his tongue and lips danced between your legs. How it looked after he made you cum- it was pornographic the way your cum lined his beard.

"I need you to see how much I love you."

Twinkle in your eyes as your lips chased his- all the confirmation he needed from you. Only this time his kisses became primal and territorial. Almost afraid if he didn’t you’d vanish.

Breathless and glazed “Where’s your dad?” Hands wrapped around your warm cheeks, the twinkle of those damn Bambi eyes as he looked for his answer.

“Still there.” Speaking between heavy breaths. “Won’t be till the morning.” Your nose scrunched and eyebrows raised. A lmichaeavious but daring look as you spoke to him.

Tongue running against his lips, “Perfect.” Cabernet consumed his tongue, “I’m about to make his daughter scream.”

Then within seconds he has you engulfed around your safe haven. Cold meeting your neck, molding your lips around his as he placed you on the kitchen counter. 

Shaky hands found the button, then the zipper, demanding them down. Cold air fanning your body as he raised your dress up and ripping off the white that covered his favorite place to mark — breed. 

You looked marvelous. Pebbled nipples from cool air wrapping around your them, faint purple marks trailed along your neck from the earlier and you with those damn Bambi eyes silently pleading him to fulfill his promise. 

“Can’t wait Buck, need to feel you. Please.” His favorite song sang.

A groan leaving his lips as he wrapped his hand around his cock, running it through your dripping folds— only ever this wet for him.

Bucky’s tip pressing against your pussy unleashed a sound that was downright beautiful before your velvet walls welcomed him home.

“Fuck Bambi. You get tighter since this morning?” His forehead resting on yours, as he brought you closer to him and finding your lips. 

Determined to have his cock feel the heart that belonged to him. 

Tongues fighting for dominance, your hands tangled through his hair and when he hit that one spot he captured not only your tongue but the moan he gave you. It was like the gates of hell had opened when he saw you tonight. He should've been the reason for your laugh and smile, not the people you had been speaking to. 

“Shit— you drove me crazy tonight y’know that?” Grunting out as you sucked him back in. “That dress is a menace. Stop lookin’ so good.”

“Stop lookin’ at me then.” You threw right back at him, only adding fuel to burning fire.

“Such a fuckin’ brat— don’t worry, i’ll fuck that right outta ya.”

Ripping away from you, he had you pinned against the marble counter. God did he miss those pebbled nipples. Fuck. What he wouldn't give to see how cold they felt. Loved marking them, biting them and twisting your nipple— the sound that fell from your lips made him drive harder into you. Moans erupting from the two of you. They were poetic. 

“Act like a brat, I’ll fuck you like one.” Your body connects with his. Fingers splayed around your neck with his lips dancing around it, his fingers tracing the promises against your clit. 

“Y’know I can’t not look at the most important wonder of the world, Bambi. Especially since she’s mine.” Teeth grazing your neck with each spoken word. You clenched around him as he spoke. 

You got off on the way he spoke to you. Each word holding meanings behind them. His cock brushing against your g’spot earning moan after moan out of you. You squeezed tighter around him each time he hit. 

“More daddy. So close.” His lips found your as he swallows each moan. Forefinger and middle finger pressing harder against your clit. The other working your nipples— pulling and twisting. His lips pull away to listen to the words that would leave your swollen lips. 

“Beg me.” Speaking those two words in your mouth. 

“Please let me cum. I— ‘m sorry. Won’t be a brat.” Lie. 

“Let me cum for you. ‘ll be a good girl. Lemme show you how much I love you. Wha ya do to me.” 

“Let me make a mess for you, daddy.” You moaned. 

A grunt left his mouth capturing your lips with his. He was done for,  “Fuck Bambi cum for daddy.”

White coating his cock— your claim to him, as he fucked you through your first orgasm but never stopping as he fucked you through your first, ready to pull another one out of you. 

Leaving you empty for a split second before his hands wrap around your hips spinning you around to sit on him. 

“C’mon Bambi. Y’can do it.” His hands help you work yourself on top of him. 

“Too sensitive.” You whined against his lips. 

“Yeah? Well ‘m gonna need one more outta ya. Y’know for being a brat and all.” Hips snapping against you, “Need to watch those Bambi eyes as they roll back when ya cum.” Pink swollen lips, his tongue running against his bottom lip as his eyes beamed brighter than before. 

Sweat lined your forehead as your hair stuck to it and a moan left those lips he craved when he came into contact with your ass. 

“Bounce on daddy’s cock baby. Make me cum so you can feel it right here.” Your heart. “Let me try and touch your heart. Be a good girl.”

“C’mon fuck me like the whore you are.” His hips snapped up hitting your g’spot over and over again, fingers sliding to pinch your clit. Velvet walls with silky folds. Bucky swore he could feel your cum seeping out of you when you bounced up only to miss the feeling when you came back down. 

“Gonna cum baby. Need to cum with ya. Let go for me.” 

It was blissfully pornographic. The sounds that filled the kitchen as he came in you and you all over him were perfect. Just like the sight in front of him when you both came down. 

Absolutely beautifully wrecked. 

Standing up, he placed you on the chair as he stood in front of you. Kissing every inch of his favorite thing to taste, feel, touch, smell and hear. All the way down till he was crouching in front of your dripping, puffy and ruined pussy.

“‘M gonna need to buy lots of dresses baby.” Mirrored kisses placed along the legs he loved wrapped around him and his head. His lips leaving your skin— already craving for them to go back home.

“Why's that?” You hummed out running a hand through his hair and the other grazing his beard. His fingers never leave you as they ghost over your pink puffy folds. A whimper leaving your lips the moment he makes contact with your clit. 

“Because when I buy you that dream house, I’ll have the access to fuck you against every surface of it.” His fingers pressing the cum back into you. 

tags: @mackenzielovee @r0und3bitch @ceceswriting @storytellingwitht @bethoconnor @glittersandsparklesss

[rushingheadlong]

The Worst Best Friend in the World - A Roger x f!Reader fic

Summary: You and Roger have been calling each other the “worst best friend” for years now, but it’s only recently that it’s started to hit a little too close to home - because only the worst of people would fall in love with their best friend like you did.

Tags: ~8700 words, Roger x f!Reader, angst, h/c, friends-to-lovers, soft smut

Notes: Written for a request from a tumblr user who wishes to remain anonymous. Requests are technically closed so I’m not accepting anymore, but I loved this prompt and just couldn’t resist writing something for it!

Read on AO3 here!

1957

“I hate you Roger Taylor! You’re the worst best friend in the whole entire world!”

Years later, when you look back on that day, you won’t remember what Roger did that upset you so badly. You’ll remember running back home in tears but you won’t remember that you cried so hard that you got hiccups, or that you were nearly sick down the front of your mum’s skirt when she wrapped her arms around you and asked what was wrong. You won’t remember what you told her and you won’t remember crying yourself to sleep that night, hours after the fight actually happened.

What you do remember is seeing him waiting for you by the school gates the next morning. Even now, years after the fact, you remember how nervous he looked when he handed you a piece of paper, and you remember how small his voice sounded when he said, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean what I said. Will you still be my friend?”

You remember opening the piece of paper to see a crude drawing of two stick figures holding hands with your names inside a lopsided heart. At the top of the page, written in Roger’s childish script, are the words Best Friends Forever.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Keep reading

[view-from-up-here]

[bunhed]

queue this post when it’s your birthday and be surprise

[queenmylovely]

At First Glance, Part VII

Summary: Roger Taylor x fem!reader. More drama! Things really develop!!

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: cussing, alcohol consumption, smut (18++): fingering, protected sex, feeling up etc. lmao. also… ostensibly the second to last part 

A/N: here’s part vii for ya! perhaps the most exciting part!!

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Masterlist

(yeah hottie) 

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