"Forget Me Never" (1960/1961/1965)

𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐬 𝐀 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

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tags: smut, rough sex, gentle sex (eventually), established relationship, angry!Elvis, early 1970s Elvis, kitchen counter sex, p in v sex, free use(?), light face slapping, dirty talk, light choking, aftercare, apologetic!Elvis, possessive!Elvis

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As always, smuts under the cut

Elvis slammed the front door of Graceland, his heavy boots stomping through the house like a thunderstorm. You barely had time to turn around from where you stood at the kitchen counter before he was there, towering over you, his blue eyes burning hot with frustration. “Damn Colonel’s got me runnin’ ‘round like a damn fool,” he growled, voice thick with his Southern drawl. “Bout near lost my temper at that bastard.”

You reached for him, but he caught your wrist, tugging you flush against him. “E—” you started, but the way his hands slid down to grip your hips stole the words from your lips.

“Need somethin’, baby,” he muttered, voice husky, lips ghosting over your jaw. “Need you.”

Your breath hitched as he lifted you onto the counter, fingers digging into your thighs as he stepped between them. His mouth was on yours, hungry and desperate, his body pressing you back against the cabinets. You barely had time to gasp before he was yanking at your dress, bunching the fabric up as his hips rolled against yours. “Gonna make me forget all about that bastard,” he murmured, breath hot against your skin. “Ain’t that right, honey?”

Your heart raced as Elvis pulled you closer, his hands rough but comforting as he undid the buttons of your dress with a fierce urgency. The heat of his anger still simmered in the air, but you could feel his need to release it, to lose himself in you, in the only thing that ever seemed to calm him down. “Elvis…” you whispered, breathless as his lips traced your neck, pressing bruising kisses against your sensitive skin.

“You’re all I need, baby,” he growled, his hands now slipping under the lace of your panties, dragging them down roughly. “Gonna make you feel so damn good you forget all my troubles.” Before you could respond, his lips crashed back to yours, silencing the rest of your words. He gripped your waist tighter, lifting you slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes flashing with a hunger that matched the rage still bubbling in him.

You could feel him push his head cock inside with a rough thrust, causing a gasp to leave your lips. His pace was frantic, his breath ragged as he fucked you with a desperate intensity, needing to forget everything but you. “Don’t hold back, baby,” he growled between gritted teeth. "lemme hear ya."

Elvis’ frustration was palpable, his words coming in harsh bursts between ragged breaths. “Damn Colonel,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening around your hips. “Always got me runnin’ around for him, makin’ me feel like a damn puppet on a string…”

His thrusts grew more erratic, his hips slamming into yours with an intensity that bordered on painful. But you didn’t mind. The sting mixed with the pleasure, and you were more than happy to take it. His anger fueled him, his frustration sharpening his movements as he gritted out more complaints about the Colonel, his words biting as much as his actions. “He thinks he owns me,” he seethed, his pace quickening as his fingers dug into your flesh. “Thinkin’ I’ll jus' do whatever he says… but I ain’t some damn tool for him to use. I’ve had enough…”

His thrusts became harder, rougher, almost mean, but you found yourself moaning louder with every snap of his hips. The sting in your body only made you crave more, and the way he was losing himself in you, letting go of everything that had been eating at him, turned you on even more. “God, you feel so damn good,” he growled, voice low and strained, his anger now mixed with the raw need for you.

You could barely form coherent thoughts, your mind spiraling as Elvis continued to fuck you with a raw, relentless energy. The sound of his hips meeting yours was loud in the room, echoing off the walls as you clung to him, every nerve in your body alight.

"God, Elvis… please… don’t stop…” You babbled, breathless, your words a tangled mess. You could barely hold yourself together as his hands gripped you tighter, pulling you closer with each hard thrust.

His lips ghosted over your neck, his teeth scraping lightly over your skin, the sensation sending waves of heat straight to your core. You whimpered, barely able to keep up with his pace. “Please, baby, I can’t… can’t take it, it’s so—”

“Shut up,” he growled, his voice a mix of anger and something darker. He snapped his hips harder, pushing you further up the counter as if trying to bury himself deeper inside you. “You want me to stop, honey? Huh? You want me to stop?”

You shook your head violently, the words tumbling out faster now, completely incoherent. “No, no, no—please don’t… I need you—so good, so—" He slammed his dick into your cunt again, a harsh thrust that made you cry out, your body shaking, your babbling growing louder and more frantic as he drove you to the edge.

Elvis' breath was hot and heavy against your ear as he continued to move inside you, his pace relentless and unyielding. His hand, large and possessive, found its way to your throat, fingers tightening just enough to make you gasp. "You think he gives a damn about me?" Elvis growled, his voice harsh, barely above a whisper. "That damn Colonel, he don’t care about nothin' but his own damn pocket. Treats me like I'm nothin’ but his prize horse, pushin' me 'round... keepin' me on a leash..."

You could barely breathe, but the way his cock was filling you, slamming into you with punishing force, made it feel like you were floating. Your pulse raced, both from the thrill of it and from the sensation of his fingers around your neck, making everything feel so much more intense.

"All he cares about is his cut, his goddamn money," Elvis continued, his voice thick with disdain as he thrust into you harder, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to send a thrilling wave of dizziness through your head. "But you, baby… you're all I need. All I fuckin' need. Not him. Never him."

The words were coming faster now, and so were his thrusts, rough and desperate. Your head tilted back, eyes barely open as you felt the pressure building inside you. You could feel his anger, his frustration mixing with a ferocious need, and you loved every second of it.

You squeezed around his cock, your voice strangled, almost pleading. "Please, Elvis, don’t stop… keep going…" His hand on your throat tightened, his pace increasing, and you felt the familiar heat of release start to curl in your stomach.

Elvis’ grip on your throat was unforgiving now, his fingers pressing in with a mix of anger and lust that made your head spin. His thrusts were punishing, each one harder than the last, as if he was trying to drive every ounce of frustration out of his body and into you.

The kitchen counter was cold beneath you, your body trembling, but you couldn’t help the way your hips instinctively met his, the need for him overwhelming every thought. “You like this, don’t you, baby?” His voice was low, rough, dripping with the heavy drawl of his southern accent. “You like me fuckin’ you like this, don’t you? I can feel you clenchin' around me, beggin' for more. You’re nothin’ but mine, ain’t ya?”

His words were like fire, and each one made your insides twist with desire. He was brutal, taking what he wanted, and you were helpless to stop him. The feeling of him pounding into you, over and over, was starting to break you down in the best way possible. It hurt, but in the most delicious way, your body on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

“Gonna make you beg for it, baby,” he rasped, his hips slamming into yours with vicious force. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you forget your own name.” The pressure in your chest, from both his hand around your throat and his relentless thrusting, was starting to pull you under, your body aching, but you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

You were so close, your body trembling with need. "Please, Elvis," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, but he heard you, his lips curling into a satisfied grin.

“Please, what?” he snarled, his words like a challenge. "Tell me, baby. What do you want?"

"I want you," you managed to breathe out, your body bucking beneath him. "I want all of you."

The roughness of his movements only intensified, his hands gripping your body like he was trying to claim every part of you. It was almost too much, but you didn’t care. You wanted to break.

Elvis’ pace didn’t slow down, each thrust crashing into you like a wave against the shore, relentless and unforgiving. Your head was spinning, the rawness of it all making it hard to focus on anything but him—his cock, his hand around your throat, the biting sting of his slap to your cheek. The slap was sharp, not too hard but enough to send a jolt through your system, snapping your attention back to him.

His eyes burned with intensity as he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Ya feel that, baby? Feel how badly I want ya?”

You could barely form a response, your body trembling beneath him, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his movements. You loved it, loved how rough he was, loved how he was pushing you to your limits. “Answer me, honey,” he growled, his fingers gripping your jaw to force you to look at him. His other hand came up again, and this time, his slap was gentler, a reminder of the power he held over you. “You’re mine, understand? Ain’t no one gonna fuck you like I do.”

You nodded, barely able to breathe through the pleasure and pressure building inside you. You were close, so close, and every ounce of pain was worth it.

The muscles in your thighs were on fire, shaking with every brutal thrust. Your body felt like it was on the edge of breaking, and Elvis wasn’t making it any easier. The slickness between your legs made a wet sound with every harsh movement, your body leaking all over the counter as he fucked into you with merciless force.

Elvis grinned, his breath coming out in quick bursts, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you tremble beneath him. "Look at you, baby," he said, his voice rough, almost teasing. "Leakin’ all over the place like you’re desperate for it. God, you’re so fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t ya?"

The sound of his words, coated in his thick southern drawl, made your head spin. You couldn’t form any coherent thoughts anymore; you were too consumed by the way his cock was slamming into you, the way your body was trembling with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a mess, sweetheart,” Elvis murmured, his lips curling into a smirk. “But I don’t mind. You wanna keep goin’, don’t ya? You love it when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

You could barely nod, your body trembling in response. It felt like too much, but you wanted more, needed more, your mind hazy with desire. Elvis’ moved his hand and gripped your hair as it tightened, his fingers twisting into the strands with a roughness that made you gasp. He pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at him, his eyes wild, feral. He was thrusting into you with a brutal, animalistic pace now, each movement harder and faster than the last, his cock pounding into you with relentless power.

“You wanna come, don’t you, baby?” he growled, his voice dripping with both lust and dominance. His thrusts were so deep, so hard, that you could barely breathe, your body trembling beneath him.

But just as you were on the edge, feeling the pressure building, he pulled back, grinding against you with an almost cruel slowness. His hand stayed tangled in your hair, forcing your head back further, exposing your throat to him. “You ain’t comin’ yet,” he hissed, his breath heavy as he smirked down at you. “Not until I say so.”

You could barely form words, your body shaking from the need to release. “Please, Elvis... please… I can’t… I need it…” Tears welled in your eyes, your cries of desperation echoing in the room as you begged him. “Please, let me come... I can’t take it…”

But Elvis just laughed, a dark, twisted sound, as he increased the pace again, fucking you harder, not letting you get any closer to your release. “You think I care what you need? You’ll beg me for it all night if I want you to.”

Elvis’ frustration was still burning in his eyes, the anger he felt toward the Colonel spilling into his every movement. But even as his thrusts remained hard and unyielding, he seemed to notice your discomfort, the strain on your body from being pinned to the cold kitchen counter.

With a growl, he pulled you off the counter, not bothering to slow down, his cock still buried deep inside you. You barely had time to gasp before he lifted you into his arms, holding you effortlessly as he stalked toward the doorway, still thrusting into you with a steady rhythm.

Your hands instinctively clung to him, your body trembling in both pleasure and exhaustion as he carried you through the halls of Graceland, his grip on you possessive and unyielding. “Not gonna keep you bent over that damn counter,” Elvis muttered through clenched teeth, his voice a mix of anger and lust. “You deserve better than that.”

With one final, furious step, he entered the Jungle Room, the soft lights and lush décor contrasting sharply with the rawness of the moment. He didn’t hesitate, sitting down on the sofa with you still in his lap, his cock still buried inside you, the force of his thrusts now more deliberate, though still rough. “You’re gonna stay on my lap now,” he growled, one hand gripping your waist, the other running through your hair. “Let me fuck you how I want, baby, no more of that cold counter. You’re all mine, now and always.”

You were limp against Elvis' chest, your body barely able to hold itself up as he continued to fuck you with relentless force. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain through your body, your limbs weak, your breath ragged. You couldn't do anything but cling to him, your hands barely able to grip onto his shoulders as he held you in place. "You like this, huh?" Elvis growled, his voice dripping with a mixture of anger and dark amusement.

His hands roamed over your body, rough and demanding, leaving marks on your skin, fingers digging into your flesh as if he couldn't get enough of you. He was grabbing every inch of you—your waist, your thighs, your breasts—leaving behind bruises that would remind you of him for days. "You’re all fucked out, aren’t you, baby?" he taunted, his voice low and mocking, his thrusts never slowing. "Barely able to hold yourself up. You gonna be my little ragdoll, huh? All limp in my arms while I fuck you like this?"

You could barely respond, the pleasure mixing with the soreness in your body, but your mind felt like it was spinning in a haze. Every time you thought you might collapse, he would tighten his grip, pulling you back up into him. “Come on, baby, talk to me,” he demanded, his voice rougher now. “Tell me you love it when I leave marks on you, when I fuck you like this. You’re mine, ain’t ya? Gonna remember me for a while, won’t you?”

You could only moan in response, your body too weak to do anything else, and he smirked, clearly pleased with your inability to speak. His pace quickened, the pressure building again, and all you could do was hold onto him, completely lost in the storm he’d created inside you.

Elvis’ hand suddenly came down sharply on your ass, the sting from the slap jolting you out of your haze. You barely had time to register the sensation before he did it again, harder this time, making you gasp. “Focus, baby,” he growled, his voice rough, thick with his southern drawl. “You’re makin’ a mess of yourself, can’t even keep it together. You ain’t gettin’ a break.”

You whimpered, your body too weak to keep up with the force of his thrusts. The ache in your legs and hips was overwhelming, and your head felt foggy. You could barely breathe, let alone concentrate, your thoughts scattered. "Please, Elvis..." you begged, your voice hoarse. "I can't... I need a break... just for a second..."

He smirked down at you, his grip tightening on your hips as he slammed into you harder. “Nah, baby. Ya don’t get no break. Yer gonna take it all. Take what I give you, whether ya can handle it or not.”

The sting of his words, mixed with the sharp slaps on your ass and his punishing thrusts, had you on the edge, your body trembling in his hold. Your muscles were screaming, but you couldn’t stop yourself from begging for more, your desperate pleas only egging him on.

Eventually, Elvis' pace began to change—slower, deeper, like he was trying to anchor you to the moment. His hands, which had been gripping and bruising, were now soft on your body, caressing the curves of your hips, your waist, your breasts. His voice, previously harsh and commanding, softened as he spoke, his breath still ragged but filled with a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he pulled you closer to him, one hand gently cradling the back of your head. “You took everything I gave you. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

You could barely focus, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of everything he'd put you through. Your muscles were sore, weak, and your entire being was on fire. But even as your mind was swimming, you could hear the love and care in his voice.

You felt his body tighten beneath you as he thrust once more—hard—and you were on the edge again, feeling the pressure build up like a storm. "Come for me, baby," he growled, his voice strained but loving. "Let go."

And with that, it hit you, crashing over you like a wave. You came hard, your body shaking in his grip as you cried out, your sobs trembling in the air. As you were still reeling from the aftershocks, you felt him release inside you, his body going tense before going still.His movements slowed, his breath slowing down as he collapsed back onto the couch with you still in his lap.

You were exhausted, your body limp against his chest, and Elvis held you close, brushing his fingers through your hair, soothing you. “Ya did so good, baby,” he murmured softly, his voice full of warmth and pride. “Yer perfect, just perfect.”

Your quiet sobs were a mix of relief and emotional exhaustion, but as Elvis held you, kissed the top of your head, and whispered sweet words of praise, you knew you were safe in his arms. The anger from earlier had faded, replaced with something deeper, something genuine.

Elvis' thumb gently brushed across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear, his gaze softening as he noticed the exhaustion in your eyes. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as he held you close, his body still warm beneath you.

"I'm sorry, baby," he muttered in his deep, southern drawl, his voice low and sincere. "I got carried away. Didn’t mean to push you that hard." His hand slid up to your damp forehead, gently brushing back the strands of hair that stuck there from the sweat, his touch tender. "You were just too perfect, too damn beautiful. I lost myself."

You could feel the sincerity in his words as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. His breath was slow now, calming, no longer the ragged breaths of anger and desire, but the steady, reassuring rhythm of someone trying to make sure you were okay. "I never meant to hurt ya, honey," he murmured, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your back. "You’re all I’ve got, all I ever need. I jus' got frustrated, but you don't deserve that. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His apology came as a whisper, soft but sincere.

You stayed silent for a moment, your head resting against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding you as your mind tried to piece everything together. You could still feel the ache between your legs, the soreness that reminded you of just how intense everything had been, but there was also something else lingering in the air, something deep and satisfying.

After a few beats of silence, you let out a shaky breath and lifted your head to look up at him, your eyes still a little glassy. "Elvis," you started, your voice soft but steady, "I— I think I kinda liked it."

His eyes widened, but only for a second. Then a slow grin spread across his face, the kind of smile that made his eyes sparkle with mischief and something else—affection, maybe. “Ya liked it, huh?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, his southern drawl even more pronounced. He let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers trailing up and down your back as he pulled you closer to him. “Well, ain’t that somethin’.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but the smile that played on your lips couldn’t be helped. “Yeah, I guess I did. I mean... you were rough, but it felt good. It’s like you made me forget everything else.”

Elvis softly laughed again, the sound rich and full of warmth. “Well, honey, I’ll be sure to remember that next time. But don’t get used to me goin’ so hard on ya. I gotta keep you on your toes, ya know?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the affection in your smile said it all. “I can handle it.”

Elvis kissed your forehead gently, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “Good,” he whispered, pulling you into him even tighter. “You sure are somethin’, sweetheart. Ain’t nobody like you.”

Elvis shifted a bit, his hands gentle as he cupped your face, his eyes full of concern. He had always been so intense, so passionate, but seeing the faint discomfort on your face made his heart drop. He knew he’d gone too far, taken his anger out on you, because of the damn colonel, and it weighed on him now, despite the pleasure that had taken over both of you earlier. He couldn’t ignore it—he had to make sure he hadn’t hurt you.

"Hey, baby," he said softly, his southern drawl thick with concern as he gently pried your legs apart. “Let me check on you, alright? Just wanna make sure I didn’t do anything too rough.”

You winced slightly as he adjusted you, but there was no pain in your voice, just a quiet, understanding nod. You trusted him, and he was going to make sure he didn't hurt you in the process. His fingers lightly parted your thighs, and his eyes immediately focused on your red and tender cunt between your legs. The sight made his chest tighten—a mixture of guilt and regret flooding through him.

The folds was red and swollen, the aftermath of his roughness, but there was no blood --thank God--. His heart ached for a moment before he looked up at you, his eyes soft. “You’re okay, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his fingers gently brushing over the sensitive flesh. You could see the guilt written all over his face, how much it was weighing on him.

Elvis carefully set you down on the couch, making sure you were comfortable as he moved away for a moment. You could see the determination in his movements as he went to grab a wet towel from the kitchen, his steps quick but careful. When he returned, he knelt in front of you, his face soft, his hands trembling just a little as he carefully wiped the area between your thighs.

You winced as the cold towel touched the sensitive skin, your body still so sore from everything that had just happened. The sting made you flinch, and Elvis froze, his heart sinking. His large hands trembled slightly as he continued to clean you up, trying to be as gentle as possible, but the hurt in your eyes made him feel like the lowest of the low.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean to hurt ya, darlin'. I got too carried away with my own damn anger... I'm sorry. I’m sorry for hurtin' ya.." His voice cracked slightly as he leaned in, brushing his lips against your thigh in a soft kiss, trying to comfort you as much as he could. He wanted to undo the damage, make sure you knew how much he cared for you—how deeply he regretted pushing you too far.

“You didn’t deserve any of that," he murmured, his hands now gently massaging the tender skin as he kissed your thigh again. "I’m so damn sorry, baby. You’re too good for me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even in your sore state, your hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "I’m okay, Elvis. I’m fine. Just... next time, maybe a little less angry, okay?"

He chuckled softly, but there was a tenderness in it that made you feel safe. "I promise, sweetheart. No more anger. Just you and me... and a lot more care." He kissed you again, this time on your lips, softly, gently, showing you just how much he cared.

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Also I'm looking for new friends!

Me everytime I look at this guy:

I'm seriously worried when I'm old looking at him will make me have a heart attack. "What did she die of?" Oh she was watching an Elvis film.

Elvis Presley

Elvis, who holds his hand on your jaw to keep you steady and from shying away from him when he's kissing you. Elvis, who when you're stressed, tucks you under his chin and hides you away from the world, whispering into your hair, "let daddy take care of it." Elvis, who braids and plays with your hair while you're in the bath, your back pressed to his chest. Elvis, who presses quick and soft kisses to your head and temple as he passes you wherever you might be. Elvis who just adores you because you're his baby

ELVIS PRESLEY. (1) The Ed Sullivan Show, 3rd appearance (January 6, 1957); (2) '68 Comeback Special (aired on December 3, 1968). Guitar Man Production Number.

let's. let's woah with mama. i'll see myself out

Agree! Ppl need to do better research then to make fun of elvis or call him a creep or predator because of the elvis movie! I'm on Elvis's side no matter what ❤️

This is how Elvis reacted to gospel music. His reaction is how we react to his music.

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