HIIII🤭 Lovelies, we're back with some Elvis head cannons! I've realised that there hasn't been any Elvis HCs made in a LONGGG time sooo here's some dirtyyyy ones for you~
Now, this is different. These are just gonna be what he would say to you during intercourse👀
Characters: 70s!Elvis X reader
Warnings/triggers: Daddy E, Dom and sub dynamic, swearing, just dirty stuff lol
i hope u know u have destroyed me w ur description of major cleven back there and i expect every detail of major egan’s as well now
P.S CLEVEN SO IS A SPLUTTER
Long love our gushing little eager sprinkler Cleven!
Now, on to Major John Egan who will definitely blush up to his ears regarding what I shall relay over the covers of this our sleepover, but who will nonetheless be tuned in with unabashed curiosity to hear what we make of him and to catch -he dearly hopes- some word of admiration and applause for his pleasing proportions…
Cock-versations: John “Bucky” Egan edition
nsfw (AF!) under the cut:
So we’ve talked about Gale Cleven and his ken doll perfect silicon-esque, beauty pageant pretty cock, how it’s shaped and sized as if to be a dildo, as immaculate as that face he possesses, feels a little otherworldly to be even dealing with it kinda cock.
But Bucky? Oh that’s no cherub for you, that’s a salt of the earth man.
Where Gale Cleven’s appendage could get passed up in a line up of fakes as another perfect fake, there’s something to be said about a cock so singular, rugged and wonderfully human there’s no doubting it’s a genuine -if utterly shocking- article.
If Gale Cleven is a renaissance pillar, John Egan is a gnarled oak tree.
Hear me out:
For one: The sheer size. Tree-worthy, a mighty oak, a stalwart redwood, a hardened maple. But also, a tad bent, and curving up, partly because all that length must go somewhere. And oh -trust me, there’s length. But there’s also girth. But here’s what’s funny, my sweets, length and girth as we have said but were you to lay this cock next to say, bratwurst or the average petite pubic bone, you might be a little shocked by just how large it is. Because when seen in the wild, seen at liberty, attached to the man himself, it appears deceivingly moderate.
It’s the opposite of Cleven’s slim hips and jutting pillar illusion. Instead, with Bucky you’ve got mighty thighs and a huge torso and broad shoulders that could carry the globe. You would be forgiven for thinking he’s nicely equipped while not rightfully proportioning it to you, to the rest of us mortals.
Taken alone or…into oneself, you suddenly realize you’re riding a telephone pole and…now we are back to the tree imagery again. Huge, bent a bit, a tendency to grow and throb the harder he gets, but most of all -we all know and love that very special vein running along the underside of a dick. But for Egan? That whole vein is an extra ridge, like a three leaf clover cock sorta thing: if you’ve seen one you never forget it, and when I tell you it rubs your stretched little rim to madness with it’s extra ridge, I’m not using hyperbole.
Closing thoughts: less of a bright Barbie pink tip like Cleven’s and more of a constant pretty multi shade of purples, all along, sack and all. shockingly huge balls to go with it, even deeper plummy shade for these. perhaps the hottest and warmest cum blast you’ve ever felt, those swimmers have been sheltered and simmered in between those thighs waiting just for you, after all.
Had a really funny moment midway through EPiC where I seemingly completely forgot where I was and what I was doing, and as a performance finished i nearly went to applaud and had to catch myself😭
I do not condone the casting of this adaptation of Wuthering Heights. But Jacob Elordi is Jacob Elordi, and ovulation is ovulation.
tw: sex
do i need to say size kink just because it's Jacob Elordi?
enjoy
Like clockwork. The shutting of the door, no matter how softly they tried, made a clanking noise that awoke it inside of me. Like clockwork, at 8pm once a week, the two servants would have their conjugal visits. And equally like clockwork, I sat on the floor above, excited to witness it.
The soft patting of the horsing equipment ensued as the lady carefully weaved in and out of our horse brindles, lightly giggling, taking on the role of the mouse in the dramatic chase that was to pursue. Joseph happily obliged, and slithered through the leather straps following her, like a predator hunting his prey, only to catch her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her towards him. Her laughter was louder than they usually allow, prompting him to quickly kiss her mute.
I already knew what was to happen next. He used his measly arms to somehow manage to pull her up on the counter. The sound of her plump rear hitting the wooden counter worked like a switch to my body. I felt almost Pavloved, feeling an immediate rush of excitement at the filthy act I knew I would witness. I pressed my body as hard to the ground as I could, and pressed by forehead against the light cracks between the floor boards, watching attentively as her hair was pulled back to grant him access to her neck. I felt such vivid tingles on my chest and neck, it was as though I could feel someone's breath against my own body.
Once their mouths touched, they had their hands on one another like they were clawing at who could get closer to the other. I felt tingles watching her spread her legs open and him push his clothed body against hers. Even the slightest contact gave me shivers.
Suddenly, I am broken out of my dirty trance. A large body is pressed against mine. My mouth is swiftly covered. The hand is so large, my gasp is rendered silent. My initial panic is settled once the scent of familiarity hits my nostrils. Heathcliffe uses his hand over my mouth to pull my face to the side and look at me. Maintaining sturdy eye contact, he presses his entire body against mine, fitting perfectly against me like a puzzle piece made of my hips and rear pressing against his crotch. Our legs remain intertwined, with my feet pressing against his knees.
"Snooping, are we?", he whispers against me so quietly, that against the continuous gasping heard from beneath us, I could barely make out the words. I pretend not to, and don't respond, which is met with an airy laugh against my face. His hand remains over my mouth but he gently lets go of my face, so I slowly let my head back down, partially in shame, partially to check whether our presence is known to the people below us. But two people so in love wouldn't notice an earthquake. Joseph begins to pound at his lover, holding the side of the counter to avoid it from hitting the wall with each powerful thrust. Only a few seconds of watching them makes me feel a certain guilt that usually an hour doesn't. The difference is Heathcliffe's presence, which I can feel over every inch of my body, as well as his increasingly fast breaths that tingle my neck.
The feeling of his body heat increases my arousal tenfold, making my cheeks full flushed and my head spin a little. I don't move an inch, as though not moving now would save me from being caught in the act of sneaking around. Too little too late, I fear.
Heathcliffe's lips press near by temple, making me instinctively flinch away from him, only for his strong hand to pull me back to gaze I previously held. I continue looking down, not being able to control the speeding beating of my heart or the warmth building in my thighs every time he uses his strength against me.
"You just can't look away, can you?"
His tone sounds partially mocking, but equally genuinely intrigued. It isn't until he mentions it that I realise how long we've been watching them together. Heathcliffe lets out another quiet laugh, this time much more mocking, and slides his body forward to put his head by my side. When his shoulder move past mine and his hips graze against my ass, the sharp feeling of his hardness rubs against the middle of my cheeks, and I let out an involuntary whimper. Though his hand muffles it to the people below us, who have now increased their moaning to a decibel close to yelling, Heathcliffe clearly either hears or feels it fine. His face presses against my temple, and his nose tickles my eyelid.
"Shhh"
The almost inaudible soothing sound pushes warm air against my cheek. I can barely hear it over the sound of him rustling his overpowering hips around, I can only assume to purposely bother me. It works, and the heat radiating from me doesn't penetrate the floorboards, instead hitting back to me, trapping me in an inescapable heat. Any attempts to wriggle and release the increasing tension from my predicament is nullified by Heathcliffe's heavy body pressing me further into the floorboards.
The movement of his hips continues, and he pulls my face up closer to his. He props himself up on his elbow and gently begins to pull up my skirt. The sudden movement renders me frozen for a moment, and the continuous sound of slapping skin and breathy noises from downstairs only adds to the difficulty of processing this situation. I put my hand over his, but don't succeed at pulling it off my face. I pull at one of his fingers to no avail, an effort that he rewards by entertaining me, and letting go of my face with one of his fingers. It does nothing to weaken the tight grip he has at me, physically, and emotionally.
His hand tugs at my skirt so lightly that the fabric travels up at a torturously slow pace, tickling my thighs, and letting the caresses linger between them. Heathcliffe grinds his body against mine, attempting to speed up the process of lifting my skirt, aiding only in my shortness of breath and lightheadedness. The hem of my skirt finally brushes past the peach fuzz on my lower back, and bunches in a way that drives some distance between Heathcliffe and I.
He does not allow this, immediately lifting his body slightly to lay the skirt flat over my back, before pressing his body back against mine. This time I can feel it. His bare skin touches my ass. I can feel a patch of hair on my ass and his long shaft pressed against my thighs, before his hand resumes a tighter grip over my face and brings it closer to his.
"Be quiet now"
The rhythmic movement and lewd cries that fill the stable from downstairs make it hard to concentrate. My head feels light and almost drunk from such arousal, not only titillating my mind as it does every time I'm up here, but now being on the receiving end of these manly yet gentle movements. Heathcliffe's arms trap me on either side of my shoulders, and he guides to push into me with nothing but his hips. Though my body was lax with tingling helplessness until now, I bend my knee to the side and scootch my crotch around aimlessly, lifting it up closer to him in a desperate attempt to be so so good for him. He finds the help unnecessary, and his chest presses against mine, squishing my ribcage into the wooden floorboards before sliding in past the plushness of my thighs and slowly but firmly pushing further in.
He pushes past any obstacles and stretches me to fit around him, with the keen help of how absolutely soaked his body heat has gotten me. The rapid sounds of cursing and muffled whining downstairs reach a speed they never have before, only increasing the aching clenching around Heathcliffe, longing for us to get to their level. My ribcage pressed so tightly against the floorboards accenuates to me how fast my heart races. The filthiness of the toys, uncovered breasts, Joseph's hands restraining the hands of his lover, all pale in comparison at how lewd I feel taking Heathcliffe. The curvature of my ass does nothing to mediate his size, and he still fills me up past my limits, despite the angle. I whimper at the fullness. The teasingly slow speed at which he pulls out only to begin pushing back in is only highlighted by the comparison of the speed of the furniture squeaking downstairs.
The tingles of my scalp and the attentive speed at which Heathcliffe rips his cock out, giving me a brief reminder of how tight and small my canal can get, only to push himself back in and stretch me out to his girth, makes my head drowsy. My eyes struggle to stay open, and any slow whines I make are relentlessly muffled by his hand. Every time his tip kisses my cervix, his deep groan echoes in my ear.
The lady downstairs is getting persistently drilled, her hair is being pulled, her nipples are being tugged, her eyes are rolling back, and the sweat dripping down the side of her face can be seen from the floor above. She clamps her mouth tightly around her gag yet her repeated cursing remains perfectly audible. Joseph reaches his hand between their bodies, fiddling at her crotch, which makes her go ballistic. My eyes stay half fluttered open, only to continue greedily watching them from above. Heathcliffe pounds against me, yet the sturdy whacks of his hairy crotch against my ass are for our ears only. His hand momentarily loosens up against my face, dragging his fingers down and using two of his digits to brush against my lips, a slow and loving movement that feels inappropriate considering his continuous fast assault against my ass. He drags his fingers down and slides them with ease past my teeth. I eagerly wrap my lips around him, to which he cockily plunges them in further. His fingers go deep, touching the back of my tongue, and his thumb rests on my cheek, following the shape of my hollowed cheek as I suck on his fingers, pushing it to urge me to continue.
I can instantly feel the effects of this power play on him in his stiffness plunging deeper into me. His groaning against my ear becomes delayed, like he tries so hard to stop it from releasing, but he can't. The electric warmth building inside of me feels nothing like when I do it alone. The ball of tension in my stomach unravels so fast, that I can barely hold my head up. I can feel his huge length pushing so deep inside of me, the hard floorboards beneath me only amplify it, like his tip is touching them.
I flutter my eyes open from savouring his fingers and suddenly, much to my dismay, the couple downstairs are both standing up, fully clothed, talking to one another. The reality check makes my cheeks flush instantly and I turn my head to look at Heathcliffe, who gives me a smug smile and pushes his fingers to touch the back of my throat. He only presses once before I gag and pull at his hand. The arrogant pace of him fucking me into the floorboard increases, and the airy moans he makes against my hair feel louder than ever now that the silence downstairs is only interrupted by occasional light chatter and kisses.
Heathcliffe's savagery at my body makes it move up and down on the floor, itching my clit against the floor, pulsating my insides and boosting the feeling of his tip scratching against my walls. But he presses his chest hard against my shoulders to stop me from moving, and shoves himself deeper into me. His fingers twitch inside of me as I feel it. He continues his rapid assault, and I try to control my tempered breathing and allow his fingers to quieten the moans that threaten to release. The ball in my pussy not only unravels, but explodes, like a balloon popping and releasing hot magma, just as Heathcliffe forces some of his last thrusts against me, shooting his load. I feel the warm fullness as his hitched breathing slows and he rests his head on shoulder. He gently slides his fingers out, and I finally put my heavy head down on the ground to catch my breath.
The door downstairs is opened and closed as the couple leave. But Heathcliffe doesn't pull out right away. Instead, he puts his face to mine, and gently kisses my cheek.
Jeannie C. Riley telling how it was to meet Elvis and what happened in that dressing room at the Flamingo Hotel.
This is a truly funny and charming interview.
First, Jeannie explains why she was playing with Elvis’ necktie—were they involved or not? You’ll have to watch to find out. Second, the interview brings yet another great story: another man (one more to the list!) who, in Jeannie’s words, was “too macho” to say things like that, yet so mesmerized by Elvis’ good looks that he couldn’t help commenting on them as soon as Elvis walked away: That man was... her own husband! Hahaha So good! And finally, it’s hilarious when Jeannie says it was strangely comforting to know that Elvis used the restroom — because fans often have the impression that people like him aren’t really human. Apparently, even his peers felt that way. Fascinating, isn’t it? That’s how extraordinary and overwhelming Elvis Presley’s presence was.
A really great interview. Enjoy! ❤️
February 6, 1969: On this date, Elvis Presley met country music entertainer Jeannie C. Riley at the Flamingo Hotel. He attended her concert and it was an unforgettable moment to Jeannie. According to her, there was a very small light leak coming down on the audience and, incredible as it is, it only illuminated Elvis' face, therefore he was the only person she could see from the stage. According to Jeannie, Elvis was at the Flamingo accompanied by Colonel Tom Parker and members of his Memphis Mafia, as he was scouting venues for his long-awaited return to live performances, carefully evaluating the possibilities. Twenty days later, on February 26, Elvis signed a contract for a month-long engagement at the International Hotel. This season, which would begin in July 31st 1969, became one of the most celebrated and critically acclaimed periods of his career (see photos below).
AWESOME!!! UNSEEN TILL NOW! B/W EP FANS AND AUDIENCE MEMBERS LIVE CANDID PGOTO OF ELVIS PRESLEY PERFORMING HERE AT IS SEATTLE IN WASHINGTON DC SHOW AND CONCERT ON THE 12TH OF SEPTEMBER IN 1970 WEARING A POLICE CAPTAINS HAT HE WAS GIVEN AS A GIFT BY THE POLICE CAPTAIN WHO ATTENDED THIS SHOW AND CONCERT FROM THE SEATTLE POLICE DEPARTMENT WHO ATTENDED THIS SHOW AND CONCERT.
I WONDER HOW MANY BEAUTIFUL EP LADY'S AND LADY'S IN GENERAL ON TUMBLR WOULD LOVE TO BE ARRESTED BY OFFICER ELVIS PRESLEY?
summary: the Creature (Adam) gets curious about his physical feelings towards you, so you teach him.
word count: 2.6k
warnings: unprotected piv, cowgirl, pwp, cockwarming. this is basically the Creature's first time. idk i love him
A/N: I wrote this drunk last night & with no real plot in mind, just consumed by Frankenstein (2025). first fic in like 2 years, hope you enjoy❤️
gif: @headph0neson
There is hesitation percolating through his mechanical movements; his eyes betray his restlessness the most, even as they rest comfortably on your figure. You approach him, carefully studying his expression, and it becomes clearer with each passing second and each removed inch between the two of you that something resides on his mind.
“Are you alright?” you can’t help but ask.
He looks as if he’s about to nod, but then changes his mind at the very last second and shakes his head ever so slightly. His eyes are still on your figure, once in a while falling upon your mouth. You draw in a sharp breath.
“What’s the matter?”
“When you kissed me, the other day… I felt—something.”
You try not to chuckle, despite feeling flushed already. “I should hope so.”
Adam smiles—yes, the both of you settled on the name Adam as it carried a certain appeal to him. It was his very own name, something of his own, distinguishable from his dreadful past.
Oh, how you adored his smile.
“No,” he clarifies, still smiling. “Something… more.”
The way he struggles to say the word ‘more’, as if it is something shameful, it pains me in a certain way. Although the more you look at him, the more you come to realize that it most likely comes from a place of curiosity instead of shame.
And then you start to realize what he means.
“Oh,” is all you can get out, feeling more flushed this time around. Truth is, that more has been something heavy on your mind as well—for quite some time. You didn’t want to broach the subject with Adam, fully aware that it is a foreign concept to him and that it is, perhaps, something out of his comfort zone and out of his line of interest.
It seems as if you were wrong.
“What did you feel?” you ask, taking his hands into yours.
“I felt… a twitch. Down—down here. When you kissed me, something ached. A need... of some kind.”
You don’t know how to react more than a playful chuckle, suppressed—you wouldn’t want Adam to feel ashamed in any way or to have him believe you would mock him in any way. But you also cannot help the flood of heat and desire that races through you, coursing shamelessly through your bloodstream. Adam is unlike any other man you’ve ever met; granted, the may not be quite human, not quite man, but everything about him is so curious and kind and untainted.
Yet you long to for a stain in his purity, something akin to pure hunger that you can call your own. To claim him as your own.
“That is normal,” you breathe towards him, your pulse an erratic beat behind your ribcage.
“It is?”
“Yes. When you care for someone, and when you… develop feelings for them… it manifests physically.”
“Physically?”
You subdue a chuckle yet again; everything about him is new and enticing and enthralling, and you want to savor this moment, cherish it, preserve it and freeze it in time.
A moment where there is only you and him, together, and not a single threat posed to either one of you.
You nod. “Yes, physically. The body sometimes responds before the mind—at least, in men’s cases.”
“But I am not truly a man.”
“You are more man than anyone I’ve ever encountered.”
You cup his cheeks, Adam exhaling restlessly inside your palm. You’re not quite sure when it all escalates or how; all you know is that Adam radiates enough warmth for you to tiptoe and press a sincere kiss on his lips, pulling him closer. He’s shockingly vocal, but you suppose it makes sense given how everything is anew to him. That’s how he treats you as well: a blank canvas waiting to be explored, filled with colors you wouldn’t have even dreamt of.
The more you kiss Adam and hold him against your body, the more you feel what he told you about; he’s rock hard at this point, and while you’re quite surprised that all of his bodily functions are intact and normal, you still moan in his mouth.
Which acts as a catalyst for him to evoke the same sounds, more guttural by nature, and end up atop of you. He’s eager, yet restrained; the same restrained curiosity you’ve grown accustomed to. He’s not wearing many clothes, which works in your favor as you work to undress him hastily, all the while with Adam huffing next to your ear, his shock at the sight of you never wavering.
“You are breathtaking,” he tells you, and you shudder at the sound of his voice, the thought of him admiring you so thusly.
You believe him; there is nothing in this world that would make you not believe Adam. You kiss him everywhere, not just his lips, hoping to get a rise out of him as soon as possible: his neck, his collarbones, his arms, all of which are, admittedly, uncharted territory to him, but upon hearing his groans, increasingly more desperate, you figure you’re doing something right. You take it upon yourself to remove your own clothes, albeit your dress proving to be a challenge in and of itself. But haste has its perks, for you move faster than you ever have with the fabric, including undergarments, and soon you’re left bare before Adam, aching and pleading silently with a single lustful glare at him. Your eyes drop fleetingly to his manhood and you gulp, utterly flattered to notice that he is hard and surely aching by this point.
“How are you feeling?” you ask him.
“It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“All of this… desire.”
You fleetingly smile, your legs spreading open further for him. His gaze drops, swallowing harshly.
“How do you know it is desire?” you ask, half curious, half flirting.
“What else can it be when it comes to you?”
You pull him in again and again, kissing him till your lips feel raw and as needy as you feel. Your movements feel rushed as your hands roam freely around his body—surprisingly, he’s never been one to shy away from your touch, regardless of how you proclaim it—and each tug, each caress earns you a moan or a gasp from his side.
“If it is too much, you should tell me,” you tell him, catching his eyes staring in wonder between your legs.
“I’m not sure… what to do. What do I do?”
With a smile, you reach and undo his breeches, keeping your surprise to yourself—you figured Victor would’ve made everything proportional and as beautiful-looking as possible but fucking hell, this was a pleasant surprise.
“Do you trust me?” you ask him.
Adam nods incessantly. “Always.”
“Okay. Touch me.”
You don’t want to overwhelm him, so you take his hand and guide it to your pussy, smiling when you earn a gasp and a surprised face from his side. He caresses you, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds, earning soft gasps from you.
“It’s wet,” Adam remarks.
You chuckle, the sound earnest and pleased. “Yes. That happens to women when they desire someone.”
“You… want me?”
He sounds more than shocked; quite trifled and astounded. You nod frantically, by this point dripping with need.
“Yes, Adam. Always.”
He takes a while to process your words, but he does so nonetheless. It’s almost as if your words become law to him, something to tether himself to.
“What do I do now?” he asks, his voice betraying both curiosity and fear.
“Here.”
You guide your hand to his cock, now fully erect, and he groans as you give it a few strokes and guide it to your entrance. His eyes are fully blown, as if he cannot believe what is happening and what is in front of him as of now.
Adam watches enthralled as you guide him further inside you, a pleasurable moan escaping your mouth as he thrusts inside you. Inch by inch, you swallow him whole it seems.
Fully sheathed inside of you, your mouth remains ajar as you stare longingly at him, unable to suppress the moans escaping past your vocal chords. Your whole body is afire, your face a canvass of your love and appreciation for your beloved Creature, and his face a combination of shock and lust.
“How does that feel?” you manage to ask him.
It feels like you’re going insane, utterly maddened by his curiosity, his sensitivity and love for you, all of which are undoubtable.
“Ethereal,” Adam murmurs, and leans over to press a kiss on your lips and forehead.
His movements remain mechanical. It is clear he’s unsure as to how to proceed, but his eyes, oh his big, wonderful and pure eyes, they remain locked on the movement of his cock between your legs. They seem to be fascinated by the way he fits inside you, and you are no exception to said marvel.
You try to move so that you meet with more of his hips, and you catch Adam by surprise with those motions; he stares in awe, almost aghast, at the sight of his cock thrusting in and out of you, and you moan as he does so. He doesn’t pose any questions anymore, he simply watches and follows your sounds, your scent and your movements. Soon he catches the drift, especially after one of your hands sinks its nails deep into his back and pulls him forward.
Thank goodness he feels little to no pain from this.
You mean to inflict no pain, you simply wish to sink into him, to have him and own him in primal ways, in caring and loving ways, those of which have not been taught to him by his creator. You both move together in a set rhythm, albeit stunted by it being a first time, with Adam’s eyes alternating between your face and your glistening pussy.
“Is this—good?” he asks, his face dangerously close to yours.
“Yes—oh gods, yes… so… so good…”
Words fail you in this moment of need, but you do not need them it seems. Your hands roam aimlessly on his back, the staccato rhythm of his hips more than a distraction or a want—a necessity; an insatiable craving, a hunger to be held, one you are more than certain Adam shares it as well.
You are very much aware of how touch-starved he is, and in so many ways, you reciprocate the sentiment. But Adam’s curiosity and lack of experience make him the perfect lover. It causes a stir inside of you, a storm brewing all too dangerously to the surface and an ache you found only he can soothe.
You feel him tense above you, a clumsiness about him that is more than endearing. He watches your every move, listens to every sound you make, in awe of how tender and warm you are, how malleable and willing in his presence.
A fact which will never not surprise him.
“Adam, wait,” you breathe, cupping his cheek.
On command, Adam halts all movements, blinking inquisitively at you.
“Have I hurt you?” he asks.
You feel a tug in your chest, eyes a little bit teary. By gods, you couldn’t stand the thought of someone so utterly soft and attentive by nature.
“No,” you smile. “You are wonderful. Do you trust me?”
“With my life. Endless as it may be. But it only means I get endless lifetimes to learn you.”
Breathless, you rise a little and shift so that now you are the one atop of him. Adam is evidently taken aback—one of the many endearing things about him is how he cannot hide a single emotion he feels for the life of him, endless as it may be, as he put it earlier—and you smile widely at him.
The stretch is glorious; Adam’s giant hands reach to your hips, resting there tentatively. He gazes upon your body as if he were charting a map, studious and careful, his eyes never absent of intensity and admiration.
“More,” he groans, mouth agape. “Please.”
And more you give: you start to move up and down slowly, taking every inch of him in a stretch that heats your entire body and causes your head to spin; Adam groans, the sound low and nearly pained from deep within, yet you know by watching him it cannot be that of pain. Adam tries his darnest to remain still on the bed simply because watching you take pleasure from him this way is maddening, but he finds that he cannot do so. He reaches up to meet you halfway, his fingers grazing your cheek. You cling to him, anchoring yourself to his broad shoulders as you keep riding him, and pull him closer. You find his lips in a rushed take, the kiss careless and despairing.
There’s a rush throughout your extremities, a wave of heat impossible to contain in your chest. You have never felt a fire like this one, an affection quite as strong as the one you carry for Adam. It stretches beyond the physical—although gods beware, simply feeling his cock buried inside of you so intimately and sweetly is reason enough.
He feels you tense, your movements more rapid and messy. He tries to hold you steadily, but he fails. Just as he had previously failed. And yet he realizes he does not care. He wants to see you break, he wants to see you come undone before him, with him inside of you. Something tells him you can take it—just as you can take him—and that you want to take it.
“Oh fuck—I am so close—“
He wishes to ask you what you mean, but words fail him. He feels, simultaneously, whole and fractured. He watches your face contort in what he presumes is pleasure, untethered, unashamed and whole, and he feels you quiver around him. You seize, the warmth of your walls clenched all around him, squeezing his cock in a tighter confinement.
And then he breaks.
In this moment, gravity is not what holds him, but rather you. You are all that he sees, all that he smells, craves and wants—and all that he feels. You are all that he feels as he spills himself inside of you with a roar that shakes the room to its foundation. You are all that he feels when his head drops in the crook of your neck, kissing every inch of skin his lips can trail. You are all that he feels as your hands cradle his head, tender and poisoned with raw need.
When your eyes find his again, they are as soft and as kind as you know them, yet they seem to contain something else as well. Something which you can also identify as of now.
Pleasure.
You barely move now, having felt him twitch and convulse inside you mere moments ago. Neither of you seems eager to break the touch, but you suspect Adam is much less inclined to do so than you.
“Can I stay?” he asks.
“What do you mean? Of course you can.”
“I wish to stay like this. For a while longer, inside you. You are warm and welcoming and…”
You cup his cheeks in your hands, your palms feeling the small ridges and indentations of him.
“And what?” you ask, kissing his nose.
“Mine.”
You smile wider than you have before, now sated and happy. “I am yours. Always.”
tags: established relationship, kissing, loss of virginity, baby’s first handjob <3 lol, finger sucking, guided touching, clit play, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex
a/n: hello EEEEK long time no see…. this movie has taken over my life and obviously i had to do something about it. so here’s this. title from harry styles’ sweet creature… hehe… see what i did there. anyways, i hope you enjoy <3
w/c: 4.9k
the one you love concerns himself with your worn books and your sleepy-eyed cat that likes to curl beside him on the bookshelf while he reads.
she’s there beside him now, perched precariously and purring on the shelf by his shoulder and swishing her tail against the end strands of his long hair. he doesn’t mind it, he never does, despite the shudder that courses through him at the ticklish feeling and the way his neck pops when he tucks his head to the side. your love is still skittish when it comes to the yipping dog outside that jumps and barks his greeting, but he has taken a gentle interest in your little orange tabby, and she is just as interested in him.
“she’s fond of you,” you smile, hands tucked under your chin and blanket curled in your fists. the bed is cold without him but nearly just as cold with him in it, patchwork skin stuck in a constant chill that never seems to leave him unless you’re pressed close. your body still searches for his regardless, curling inward and bending toward his silhouette like a flower reaching for sunlight. adam looks to you with shining eyes and closes his book before turning his attention to the cat.
his lifts his hand slowly and lets her smell him, his body held taut and still. only after she butts his hand with her hard little head does he caress her ears with a subdued palm and benevolent fingers, humming deep under his breath when her purring only increases at his touch.
you cannot lie and say you don’t understand her. you feel the same way when adam graces you with his touch too, a hand over your heart as you sleep soundly beside him, a hesitant pat to your head after a hearty supper or a particularly good book you found for him. always gentle, mostly painstakingly hesitant. boundless reassurance and patience chips away slowly at the thawing want that you know resides under the surface of his skin; underneath innate selflessness lies the vastness of his yearning, the warmth of his own beating heart aiding your practice. he longs for merciful touches and a forgiving gaze, though there’s hardly a thing to forgive him for.
adam is slow and soft to speak, his voice a rumbling gravel when it finally kisses your ears. “she likes this.”
she tilts her head again and rubs her face into his palm.
“she likes you,” you reiterate. there’s a shy, pleased smile tugging at the dark corners of his lips, and your own trails behind. “she is not the only one who does.”
you tuck your face further into your pillow to laugh at your own brazenness, and when you look to adam again, he’s standing from his chair and regarding you with those shining eyes of his, regarding you like you’re something purely unbelievable. you uncurl your fists from the blanket and beckon him with a quirked finger and a thrumming heart.
his first few steps are stiff, his neck cracks again as he sets his shoulders, but he moves with the motion of your beckoning finger and sheds his clothes the closer he comes, rounding the corner of the bed and hesitating only a moment before you lift the blankets for him. he’s stiff again as he settles beside you, shifting on his back to find the most comfortable position to lay in.
“do you hurt?” you ask. your hand finds his sternum, fingers tracing suture lines along cool, blue-gray skin.
“my body aches,” he answers easily. day in and day out he aches, but the cold always makes it worse. you frown then, only appeased by the way his fingers twitch when you curl closer to him to share your body heat, a long pinky grazing the soft skin of your thigh. “but it feels better like this.”
only when you slip your thigh over his and tuck your face into his shoulder does he allow himself the simple pleasure of wrapping an arm around you; he slips it underneath your neck and around your back, cold fingers relearning the shape of your spine and the give of your hip. his other hand slips to the bent elbow of your arm that’s resting on his puzzle piece chest. everything about you is so soft, so warm.
“my love,” you whisper, a kiss placed over his heart, over the tender lines of borrowed flesh.
your nose brushes his chin when you lift your head to find him already peering down at you, gaze as warm as the lit hearth crackling by your bed, an equally orange tint in one sparkling eye. the tip of his nose taps the bridge of yours then and traces shyly upwards until his lips meet your forehead. he rests them there for a moment, turning himself closer to you to lay his forehead on yours and share your trembling breath.
“why do you refer to me as such? is adam not to your liking?”
adam is very much to your liking. he is your adam, just as he is your love, your sweetheart and darling and treasure. he told you that was his name the first time you met. how could you take that away from him when it belongs so wholeheartedly to him?
adam, the first of his kind, the antithesis of sin. an unwitting creation and the greatest joy of your life.
“adam is certainly to my liking,” it’s said through smiling lips and glinting teeth. you lift your arm to tuck the sweet strands of white behind his ear. “it’s like… hm. a term of endearment for someone you care about, you see? i call you that because i love you. you are my love because you have my heart.”
his breath wheezes. he lifts his own hand to mimic you, tucking your hair behind your ear in return. you cup his scarred cheek in your hand and he leans into the touch, closing his eyes in contentment when you keep it there. you keep it there when you lean in too, your nose nudging the gray tip of his just before you press your lips to his for the first time that night. adam exhales through his nose, shuddered and surprised as always, even though this is far from the first time you’ve come together to share a sweet kiss.
it’s slow and chaste, a soft press of lips that’s easy for him to melt into. and that’s exactly what he does — he melts, thawing underneath your touch and the give of your mouth. adam is pliant under your hands and content to let you guide him, tilting his head as you do to deepen it and sighing into your slick lips. his body clings to the cold but his mouth is blissfully warm, his timid tongue hot when it finally brushes yours.
the noise you breathe into his mouth is as earnest as your greedy hands. that’s what you wholly are to your core, greedy, the furthest inverse of adam’s selfless nature, open and honest in your desire for him while he learns to navigate his own. what he gives, you will undoubtedly take.
and take you do, with hands roaming the bare ridges of his shoulder and carding through his hair. adam is lax when you lift onto an elbow to kiss him deeper, a large hand smoothing up your spine to brush the ends of your hair, but he stiffens when you adjust your leg that’s settled over his hip.
adam shudders then, your name a ragged whisper through his uneven breath. his cock is hard at the bend of your knee, hard from longing touches and a kiss that reached the depths of your soul. he looks away from you as if he’s ashamed, so you cup his cheek once more to guide him back to you.
“i apologize,” he insists. adam’s hand comes to cup yours that still rests on his cheek. “it was not my intention-”
“it’s alright,” you insist in return. you’re faring the same, an ache deep in your belly and heat dripping between your legs. honey dipped and slick you are for him, your body readying itself to take and take and take in whatever capacity he wants to give. you tuck yourself further into his side so that your breasts press to his cool skin, nipples tightening at the instant chill. his hips kick as if he can’t help but move against you, and he ducks his head to the side to press his forehead to the top of your head. your arm slips down his chest, your fingers find the taut skin of his stomach. “may i… touch you?”
adam’s throat clicks as he swallows, another small grunt leaves his lips and his searching eyes look to yours for reassurance.
“yes.” whispered yet steady. willing. curious.
“even here?” your own voice is hushed, scared to speak any louder as if it would shatter the moment you’re sharing together. the tips of your fingers trail underneath his bellybutton in wait of his answer. his cock bobs its own response underneath the blanket, but you still wait for his with a drying mouth and a rabbiting heart.
“anywhere that would please you.” his fingers find the ball of your shoulder, twitching and tapping where they caress.
you want to touch him so badly you feel it in your bones, carved deep in your marrow. a lifetime of pain and sorrow eclipsed by the vastness of pleasure and love, both of which you are willing and able to pour upon him until he understands that he’s deserving of both.
“but i want it to please you,” you beg. you sit up on your elbow again to look at him closely. you cup his neck desperately with one trembling hand, brush your fingers along the lobe of his ear. “i want to show you, if you would let me. i want to show you what it feels like to be touched in this way.”
you adjust your knee again, curling further onto your side so that it’s the softness of your thigh pressing to the length of his cock instead. adam’s lashes flutter, his breath leaves his heaving lungs in a rush.
“please. please, show me everything.”
your eyes roam his face, the lines that make him. shifting your leg away from his cock, the first brush of your fingers against his drooling tip makes your brows furrow and your jaw drop. adam clings to you like a limpet, blue-gray fingers curling around wherever they can, but they don’t seem to stay in place for long. he doesn’t know where to keep his hands, so he keeps them everywhere, your shoulder, your hips, the back of your head and arms. despite the chill coming from the rest of his body, he’s warm here, from the collection of pooled blood or the weight of your leg or both. his body tightens and releases when you wrap your fingers around the head and ease your grip down. he’s leaking enough that the slide is slick. it could be slicker if you went to retrieve a vial of oil, but there’s nothing you’d rather do less than pull away from him.
you stroke him slowly, eyes locked on his and reeling over the way his fight to stay on yours when they want to roll into his skull. his breathing is ragged, a soft, gruff growl leaving his lips every time you twist your wrist at the crown of him.
“how do you feel?”
“i feel,” he starts. his throat bobs, his legs twitch. “i cannot… i cannot describe it, my lady. i have never… felt this.”
greed flares, a boiling pot of water that’s bubbling over the edges and spilling down the sides. you whimper then, the simple thought that you’re the one showing him even the basest pleasure sends a lick of heat down your spine.
“does it feel nice?” a push. you need to know if it feels as good to him as it feels to you.
“yes. yes, it is nice. you are… so soft, your hand. on me.”
his stomach tightens. you know he’s close to his climax before he does, and that’s just another thing you’ll be able to show him. his eyes sparkle in the dim light, one reflecting the flickering firelight like he’s the one who’s ablaze inside. adam places his hand on your flexing arm to feel your muscles working, and his teeth gnash.
“something is-” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.
“mm. yes, that’s good. it’ll feel even nicer soon. is that alright? may i help you feel nice, lovie?”
adam is too overcome by the feeling of his building orgasm to give you a verbal answer, but he nods his head because he’s nothing if not polite. his hips buck unconsciously into your slick grip, his fingers squeeze your skin lightly every time your stroke hits his pelvic bone. adam’s eyes roam then to the movement of your hand underneath the blankets, so you push them to his thighs so he can watch himself receive the pleasure you so willingly give him. you look too — eyes widening at the sheer size of him in your grip, the dark color at his tip and the way your fingers shine with his pre. your love curls into you when he cums from just your hand, a new, serene first, feral growl bursting from his lips as he tips over the edge and sinks into your embrace.
your hand is sticky with his release, white coating your fingertips. it’s without a second thought that you bring them to your lips for a taste and suck the bitter spend down your throat with a low hum. adam watches with curious, wide eyes and equally curious fingers. they trail to your cheek and then to your neck to feel the way you swallow.
“is there-?” adam’s chest heaves, those beautiful eyes find yours again. “is there something i could do for you? like that.”
you smile then, suddenly shy at the mere thought of reciprocation. it wasn’t what you were seeking when you wrapped your hand around him, hungry only to make him feel the pleasure he so graciously deserves.
“well, yes, but. but it was my desire to do this for you, not to have you do something for me.”
he shakes his head, silk strands falling into bright eyes. “please,” he pleads. “i beg, allow me this. you have shown me a new world, i only wish for you to accompany me there.”
adam finishes his plea by pressing his angular face to your chest and kissing whatever he can reach. he is clumsy and sweet, his chapped lips mapping your collarbones and the tender swells of your breasts. he grunts and whines into your skin, and you can’t deny him anything, especially when he asks for something so sweetly, even more so when he’s admitting to something he wants.
your fingers find his, and he waits with bated breath against your chest as you bring his digits between your thighs. he’s cold where you’re warm, boiling hot and silky wet under the touch of his fingers. he looks to you then, as he so often does, letting you guide him under your touch so that he can learn the feel of somewhere so intimate, a place he’s never been before. you settle further into your pillow with a dreamy sigh, curling an arm around adam’s shoulders to hold onto him. he watches you keenly as his fingers slip and nudge and assess.
“i’m soaked,” you whisper, half disbelieving of just how much his fingers slide against you. there’s hardly any friction between your legs. “for you.”
“for… me?”
he lifts his hand from you then, eyes leaving your face only to survey the wetness coating the pads of his fingers. they shine under the light of the fire, and you press your thighs together at the sight.
“would you like to taste it?” your eyes are heavy lidded and your voice is low. he nods then, slowly, like he’s making sure he’s allowed to want such a thing. you take hold of his wrist but let him set the speed, bringing his own fingers to his lips and meeting them with a slippery tongue. his pulse spikes under the tips of your fingers, and he takes his own between his lips then to get a better taste.
adam purrs from deep in his throat, a sound reminiscent of your orange tabby he loves so much, pleased and content and satisfied at the new taste of you on his tongue. you slip your hand up his arm and back down just to feel him while he sucks your sweetness from his fingers. they pop from his mouth when he’s done, and he looks at you with something akin to awe in his dark eyes, that starry wonder only deepening when you take the meat of his hand in your grasp to bring his fingers to your own lips. your tongue finds the wet tips of them and meets the taste of his skin, only the faintest hint of yourself left behind from his diligence.
his hand dips back between your legs with a renewed vigor, a curious tenancy to learn your body the way you so quickly learned his. but he falters at the first moan you give him, something loud and unbridled that he’s not expecting. his hand snaps away like he’s been shocked.
“i- apologize, i apologize, i couldn’t help it.” your words are warbled and wet in your throat, tongue thick and heavy. you reach for him with trembling hands and clutch onto his arm in a pitiful attempt to bring his fingers back to your core.
“you are not in pain?”
a wild shake of your head. adam’s fingers find you then after your quick reassurance, gentle and cool like a fall breeze in a place that burns so hot. his hair sweeps into his eyes as he leans over you to keep careful watch on your face, the expressions you make that cause conflict in his mind. furrowed brows, a clenching jaw, wild noises falling from your lips that he immediately assumes are out of pain, but you hold him close to you instead of pushing him away. you don’t hit him or scold him or mock him, you lean into him with spread legs and tender arms.
“your hands feel wonderful,” you breathe. “i sound this way because you are- ah! do you remember how it felt when you spilled over my fingers?” a quiet, throaty yes from adam. “you are making me feel the same. it feels, oh, it feels so nice.”
“nice?” he parrots. “feels… nice.”
your hips raise, and the first glide of his fingers over your swollen clit makes you keen. adam repeats the noise back to you, a trill in his throat to copy yours in his own special way, to share the sounds of your pleasure and join with his own.
“that little bump… it is sensitive to me. touch me there, feel it with your fingers.”
adam learns what pleases you the most like that, with the pads of his fingers massaging the ridge of your clit and his earnest focus on your face. he takes into account the way your breath hitches when he touches a certain way, or how your thighs quiver when he circles around it slowly. your toes curl when he traps it between his slick fingers; your cries bless his ears when he presses them slightly harder. he lets you guide him further down then with your own insistent fingers, down to the give of something sweet and sticky and warm, where your hunger for him is ravenous.
you feel it then, so overcome by your own pleasure that the jut of his hard cock against your hip only registers when he prods curious fingers at your clenching hole. you reach down for the length of him, arm hugged between your bodies and tucked tight to your side. you can only brush the tip of his cock with your fingertips, but adam purrs like you’ve fully engulfed him with your hand again.
“i want to take you.” you’re squirming by now, desperate to wrap your hand around him again but ultimately unable. “i need it. but you must- you must prepare me first, yes?”
“how, my lady?”
“with your fingers, like this.” you angle his wrist and use your grip to ease it forward, sliding two long fingers into your cunt. two from the start burns pleasantly, but your desperation exceeds the need for only one, and he slips in soundly regardless, aided by your wetness. “it will help me relax a bit, and it will help you… fit.”
he mouths the word. you can see the cogs turning in his head — he looks down at himself and then down to where his fingers spear you open. his eyes find yours again when you clench down on him purposefully, and you smile at him, something soft and playful, the type of smile that adam can’t help but return with one of his own.
“i understand. i have read of such in your books.”
“in my books!” you guffaw. “my- my-! no. you have not. have you?!”
he hums in response, pressing his smile to your glistening throat. “mm. the red one, at the far end of the furthest shelf. you have marked several pages. what did you like about them?”
you release his wrist and throw your arm over your face instead, narrowly missing knocking adam over the head with your errant knuckles. of course you forget about the erotic novel terribly hidden in your bookshelf, and of course adam has already read it front to back, thumbing through countless pages of your wildest desires, of written words that made your heart flutter and your cunt pulse.
“if you must know, i will inform you later.” you rock your hips into his hand and finally pull your arm away from your face to wrap around the back of his head. “please, my love, will you curl your fingers? place your palm- yes, right there.”
with his palm pressed to your clit and his fingers curling inside, you see stars on the inside of your closed eyelids. adam is mouthing at your neck once more, his subtle playfulness replaced by his need to please. he listens well and learns quickly, massaging your insides with diligent fingers as your noises pitch in his ear, noises that he responds to in kind, breathing grunts and huffs and coos into your neck to answer your own.
“you are so warm,” he grunts. a deep hook of his fingers that makes you shudder in his hold. “so soft, everywhere i put my hands.”
if you don’t feel him inside of you in the next minute, you’re going to burst into a million pieces, stardust covering the floor of your cabin and swept into a jar of glittering desire.
“because i am ready for you.” he lifts himself from the cradle of your neck and looks into your eyes, leaning down just as you crane your neck in search of a kiss. you lose yourself in it for a moment, the sweet press of his lips and his shy tongue. but his cock still throbs at your hip, and you still pulse around his fingers. “i’m going to roll us over now.”
adam is as pliant as can be as you roll him onto his back and take your seat atop of his lap. his hands hover for a moment but ultimately seek the solace of your hips while his eyes roam your naked form, pausing at the swell of your breasts before dipping to your heaving belly and then farther down. he resettles his gaze onto your face when your soft fingers knead his shoulders and dig into the base of his throat.
“your neck must feel better like this,” you muse.
“i would not know, as it was not on my mind.”
he has such a way with words even if he doesn’t know it. your lips tug at the corners, and you lean down to blanket him with your body, kissing his lips just once and then his chin, making your way down to kiss the suture marks on his neck and feeling the saccharine vibrations on your lips when he purrs deep in his throat.
your cunt drags up his cock like this, and you reach down to hold him steady so that you can ease yourself down onto his tip. it’s hot in your hand, silky and warm and primed for you. adam’s breath leaves his lungs in a rush, his mouth moves like he wants to speak but just can’t. you’re faring no better — it’s sugar coated no matter how base it is, the first act of your coupling is as sweet as the berries that grow on the bushes in the summer.
“you’re stretching me,” you keen. your fingers scramble for purchase on his patchwork chest, sinking, sinking, sinking down until your clit mashes against his pubic mound. “adam, my adam, you’re so deep inside.”
“deep. deep, yes.”
he’s so deep that it feels like he could pierce your lungs. if he bucked his hips just once he’d carve a place for himself between your ribs. he already holds your heart in his hands, so he might as well, shape a home for himself inside your body where he’s always welcomed, where he’s always loved and wanted.
but adam doesn’t buck his hips. he doesn’t chase the pleasure you know he must be feeling. he waits for you instead, keen to let you move at your pace and bring the pleasure to him rather than taking it for himself. with your hands braced on his chest, you lift yourself up to the crown of his cock and back down with a whimper. you repeat the movement slowly until you set a rhythm to your liking, and adam’s hands travel to your wrists, cupping the bone and tapping expressive, bending fingers onto the top of your flexed hands. his touch is tender. you’d never expect someone of his size, someone made of his manner to be as gentle as he, but that’s just the nature of your adam.
just as it is his nature to help you when you falter. despite your eagerness to bounce on his cock, you tire out easily, thighs burning as you lift yourself high to feel the entirety of him. adam’s large hands find the dips of your waist. it’s the hardest he’s ever taken hold of you but only with the purpose to aid in your movements, taking some of your weight into his hands so that you can ride easier.
it’s beautifully relentless, a never ending pleasure. adam’s long, heavy cock strokes all of the right spots inside. you want to watch his face, see how pleasure contorts it, but your eyes won’t stop rolling, you can hardly keep them open. your own heavy breathing is nearly deafening in your ears, the only thing louder than your own pathetic noises is the steady clap of your skin together, the sound of adam’s raspy grunts following close behind. what a perfect melody you’ve created together, one you want to replicate again and again.
you bend over him again, pressing your forehead to his to look into his eyes. your hardened nipples brush his chest like this, your belly nudges his, and adam wraps his arms around you to hug you close with two large palms pressed to your spine.
there are so many ways to make love again. there are so many ways to show him pleasure, to learn that pleasure together. there are locations you can go, positions you can try, sluttish books to read and outdo. but it’s perfect like this, with your fingers brushing through brunette and white strands and a palm to his sutured cheek, kissing his lips and easing your tongue along the slice in his top lip.
“my lady,” adam growls. he changes his course, follows it up with another deep growl of your name that you swallow down with an eager tongue. “i feel it. it is happening again, i am-”
you cut him off with frantic words and an equally frantic roll of your hips. “inside of me. please, stay inside!”
adam’s body locks tight when he cums. he clings to you as his cock kicks inside the snug haven of your cunt, pouring rope after rope of his spend where you want it the most. it doesn’t take you long to follow, not when you guide adam’s fingers between your thighs to nudge circles on your sensitive clit. you tip over the precipice just as adam catches his breath — it’s easier for him to catch you this way.
your heart rabbits in your chest, and when you rest your cheek atop of adam’s sternum, his heart is thunderous, a quick thrum that slows to a lull the longer you breathe together.
his hand is stuck between your bodies, but he’s made no attempt to move it; his wrists will ache tomorrow from so much diligent work, but you’ll hold them between your hands and blow warmth onto his fingers. you’ll ask him to read to you by the fire, and his voice will lull you into a peaceful sleep, just as the beat of his heart does now.
