I Can Only Imagine How Many Meaningful, Harmless Letters Were Ripped Up By A Man At A Desk.

I can only imagine how many meaningful, harmless letters were ripped up by a man at a desk.

Found this on Twitter/X. Hope this helps anyone.

Daddy Needs His Baby

A/N: Didn't even mean to write this. But uh, it just came to me (pun intended) and I had to do it. This one goes with Daddy Likes His Coat, Daddy Likes His Football, and Daddy Loves His Baby. Turns out I made this some kind of vignette series? Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, a gratuitous public blowjob and Elvis being moody about getting older.

Word count: 1.3k

For his 38th birthday, Elvis fills the house in Los Angeles to the brim with people. He's leaving for Hawaii the next day, but he really doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts tonight. Even with you there, he's afraid of the silence.

So instead he fills the house with his mafia guys, their women, and just about anyone else he can find. You're there too in a scandalously short dress, flitting around the room socializing. You love it when Elvis throws parties. It feeds a part of you that goes ignored when he's in one of his hermit phases. He watches the way you work the room and sighs from his place on the couch. Even with the house full, the thoughts creep up and swirl around his brain.

38.

Almost 40. And what has he done that anyone might remember? Not any of those stupid movies. Maybe a few things in the ‘50s. But what does he have to look forward to? This satellite concert might be a big deal, but he'd much rather do a world tour. Just about the only thing he has going for him is you. But as the thought crosses his mind, he looks up and catches you flirting with a group of three men. You're so young and pretty. He should let you go be young and leave him in the dust where he belongs. That thought is the one that pushes him to get up off the couch and walk over to the bar.

You're flirting with these guys for a reason, hoping that Elvis will get all possessive and punish you tonight. But when you look for him, you see him behind the bar pouring whiskey in a glass and know something is wrong.

Elvis doesn't drink.

“Excuse me, fellas. I'll be right back.” You leave the guys mid-sentence and walk up to the u-shaped bar that he's standing behind. “Pour me a drink, cowboy?”

He looks up at you and gives you a sad smile. You're sweet to try to come talk to him, but there's nothing you can do to change this mood. “S’okay, baby. Go have fun.”

“Daddy, this is your birthday party. What kind of baby would I be if I left you all alone?” You push your bottom lip out and give him your best wide-eyed pout. He throws back the whiskey and starts to pour a second one, refusing to make eye contact.

“Please, honey.”

“Please, honey what?” You ask, your voice low and honey-smooth. He finally looks up at you and purses his lips.

“I'm no good for you. Too old.” You blink once and then let a slow, seductive smile spread across your face.

“Good thing I like old men.” You're trying to keep him playful, it usually works when he's in one of these moods, but the second you say it you know it was the wrong move. He looks down at his glass and swallows hard. “Elvis, I'm kidding. You're not old.”

He looks up at you, his eyes wet. You never call him Elvis. Your hand instinctively reaches for him and he takes it and kisses it softly.

“Sure feel like I am, baby.” This is the lowest you've ever seen him and your heart skips with concern. You wrack your brain for what you can do to cheer him up. As you think, he throws back the second glass of whiskey and cringes, coughing. He starts to pour another one.

“Elvis, you don't drink. What are you doing?”

“Why not? Fuck it.” That's it. Enough. You stand up and walk around the bar to be with him behind it. You grab the glass of whiskey and throw it back yourself. Then, you take his face in your hands and make him look at you.

“Listen to me. You are not old. You are Elvis fucking Presley. My daddy. And I'll be damned if I let you think you're gonna fade away on my watch.”

“Baby, I–”

“Hush.” You kiss him deeply and then sink down to your knees under the bar. Because of the shape of it, you're hidden from view. Your hands immediately go to his belt and he hisses.

“Baby! What’re you doin’?!” You look up at him as you pull his soft cock out of his pants and it twitches against his will, starting to harden in your hand.

“I'm reminding you who the fuck you are.” You pump him slowly and he gets harder and harder. He looks around the party to see if anyone can tell, but it looks like no one has noticed. When you wrap your mouth around him, he growls deep in his throat and looks down at you.

“You're a fuckin’ menace, baby.” You pull off and lick the sensitive head of his now-rock-hard cock.

“You want me to stop, daddy?” You bat your eyelashes as he leaks precum on your tongue and he groans. “Didn't think so.”

Just as you start to really work him, Joe walks up to the bar and starts up a conversation. You hear Elvis answer, his voice strained.

“You okay, EP?” Joe asks and you suppress a giggle. The vibration makes him damn-near double over.

“Yep. I'm fine. You want a drink?” You can tell he's trying to distract Joe. His hands shake, but he manages to pour a glass of whiskey and hand it over. He grips the edge of the bar so hard his knuckles are white. Joe looks at him curiously, but decides not to press it any further when Elvis gives him a pained, obviously-fake smile. He turns to walk away just as you reach in and take Elvis's balls in your hand, squeezing gently.

“Jesus– fuck– baby…” His hand tangles in your hair as you lick up his shaft and bob your mouth on him.

Some girl walks up and starts to flirt with him and you pull him deep into your throat, pressing your nose into the patch of hair at the base of him. His hand tightens in your hair until it almost hurts and you feel his legs start to shake. He responds to the girl with short, protracted grunts and single words. His hands tremble as he pours her a screwdriver and you run your hands back to squeeze his ass while you bounce your hot, wet little mouth on his dick. The girl walks away awkwardly and he looks down at you. The sight of you with your pretty lips wrapped around him, eyes closed like it's the most pleasurable thing you've ever experienced, pushes him so close to the edge he moans audibly. You pull back, his cock sloppy with spit, and whisper up at him.

“Cum for baby, daddy.” He slams his fist on the bar and you take him in fully, letting him hit the back of your throat. You feel his dick pulse and he leans his head back, groaning as he lets go and cums hard in your mouth. Once you've swallowed everything he gives you, you giggle up at him, kissing his sensitive tip gently. He looks around the party and realizes a good number of people are looking at him, but he no longer cares.

He's Elvis fucking Presley.

As soon as you get him put away, he drags you up from under the bar and throws you over his shoulder, panties on full display under your short skirt. The gasps and whispers start when people figure out where you were, but he just carries you across the room. In the doorway, he turns back to the crowd who are mostly standing with their mouths hanging open.

“I'm about to make this little girl scream. If you don't wanna hear it, ya better clear out.” You laugh loudly as he turns and carries you into the bedroom.

Needless to say, the house is empty in less than 2 minutes flat.

******

The End

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