#Austin!elvis x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

butlervibesonly · 2 months ago

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𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑛 || 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐭 || Austin! Elvis

PREVIOUS PART <- -> NEXT PART (coming soon)

• Summary: There it is! You finally graduate collage and Elvis’ career is one big ride. But he is sure more than anything of one thing. He can’t be without you. Forever begins. From now on.

• Pairing: Austin! Elvis x female reader

• Warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of love making, maybe typos,...

• Proofreader: her majesty, one and only amazing @eternal-love 😌

• Note: My acknowledge of Elvis is not so big, all things I know are from movie, documents, webs etc! So I deeply apologize for any mistakes/typos/misunderstanding that have nothing to do with reality. All of this is fic and has nothing to do with no one or anything. Based just on Austin's role of Elvis!Thank you for understanding!

Graduation day came like the greatest award of all the studying you put big effort in. The early summer sun covers the campus in honey gold light. Laughter fills across the courtyard, and proud families are standing in clusters, clutching bouquets and cameras, their eyes wide with pride and disbelief— you all made it. You finally made it.

And among them, wearing a pink robe and a dress are you. Your heart pounding behind your ribs, eyes filled with pride and wonder. You can’t believe it, not fully. You walk across that stage with your name echoing from the principal, your diploma finally in your hands as a proof of this hard work.

You did it. Despite the late nights, the doubts, the whispers behind your back, and the long lectures from your father. Despite choosing a life that didn’t fit in a neat box. You carved your own way—and now it is real. And standing a few feet away, just behind the crowd of other graduates, is Elvis.

His career had taken off like wildfire. His name is on posters in cities you have only read about, his voice on every jukebox from Louisiana to New York. But no matter how loud the world screamed for him, he always came back to you. Always.

And now, as you step off the stage and into his arms, you feel a shift. But not just in time, but in purpose. Elvis kisses your cheek, whispering a “you did it, baby” that made your knees go soft, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear like he always does when he was about to say something serious.

Because he actually has something planned. Something that has been burning in the back of his mind for months. You have your degree. He has his dream. And now all he wants is forever. “Darlin’, why don’t we go back home and you put somethin’ nice on? I wanna take ya somewhere.” Elvis whispers to your ear, making a shiver go down your spine.

You immediately nod, holding your diploma in your hands. You have everything you wanted now. A degree that your father always pushed you towards, and Elvis. He takes you back to Graceland, where you pick some pretty dress Elvis bought you. And as soon as you are done, dress on, heavy makeup that he loves, you hair styled, you’re ready for him to take you whenever he wants to.

He smiles, seeing you all dressed up for him. Approaching you, Elvis puts his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. “You look damn good, sweet darlin’,” he says, placing a soft kiss on your neck. “I want to take ya somewhere… You will love that place.”

“Alright,” you smile excitedly and he intertwines his hand with yours. Soon, you are back in his pink Cadillac, driving somewhere. You don’t care where, because all that you want is to be with him. Now that you are free, from all studying, stressing about your life.

Elvis pulls the car off the main road and onto a quiet, sandy path lined with tall sea grass and worn wooden posts. The ocean hums softly ahead, that low, endless hush that always seems to quiet the noise inside your chest. You look over at him. His hand is firm on the wheel, jaw set like he’s been holding something back all day.

“You alright?” you smile, a small smile playing at your lips. He cuts the engine and turns to you, his eyes glinting just a little. “M’real alright,” he says slowly, his voice thick with that sweet Southern drawl that still makes your toes curl. “You’ll see why.”

Elvis climbs out and circles the car, opening door like to you like he always does. You gladly accept his hand, stepping into the warm sand in your bare feet, your dress swaying with the early summer breeze. “This place…” you say barely above a whisper, looking around. It’s quiet. The kind of hidden beach you don’t just find unless someone’s meant to find it.

“Used to come here when I needed to breathe,” he says, his fingers laced with yours. “Before all the fame. Before the music, the lights, the crowds. Back when it was just me and a busted guitar and too many dreams in my pocket.”

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you walk. “It’s beautiful here.” you say softly. Elvis leads you to a little rise overlooking the water. A blanket is already laid out, a basket tucked nearby. Your heart skips. “You planned this.”

“I sure did, darlin’,” he says, grinning. “A man don’t go bringin’ the love of his life to the middle o’ nowhere without a plan.” he gestures towards the blanket. As the two of you approach, Elvis gets more nervous, but his confidence never leaves him. He swipes a hand over his mouth, then drops to one knee right there in the sand.

“Y/n...”

You gasp, hands flying over your mouth. “I been thinkin’ ‘bout this moment since the first time I kissed you in Graceland. Since you told me your dreams, since I saw how damn strong and smart and stubborn you are. You walked across that stage today like a queen, and I swear, it near broke somethin’ in me, ‘cause I knew I was already yours. All the way.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Opens it. Inside there is huge 3.5 ct diamond ring, with 20 surrounding detachable diamonds. “I want a life with you, darlin’. A real life. A home, a family, somethin’ we can build with our own hands. I want you wakin’ up beside me every mornin’, wearin’ my shirt and nothin’ else.”

Elvis grins crookedly. “I want your name with my last name. I want to watch your belly growin’ with my babies… And yeah, I do wanna keep you all to myself, ‘cause I ain’t never known nothin’ in this world that felt this right. I ain’t gonna pretend I’m not selfish about you, Y/n. I am. And I ain’t sorry.”

He takes your hand, eyes burning into yours. “Marry me, Satnin. Be mine. Let me be yours. All the way.” he says finally, your eyes full with tears but a huge smile on your face. “Yes,” you breathe out. “Yes. Of course I will. Elvis smiles wide, sliding the sparkling ring onto your finger. He stands up, and wraps you in his arms like he’s afraid you might disappear.

He presses his lips onto yours, savoring every little second. The kiss is heated, hot, because finally — you are his. Only and only his. Future Mrs. Presley. His tongue presses against your lips, quietly asking for entrance. How could you disagree?

You part your lips, his tongue sliding in slowly, tasting you. When Elvis pull away, his grip on yours hips tightens, trailing kisses along your neck. “I can’t wait… to see you walkin’ towards me in white,” he says, his breath raged with affection and possessiveness. “I can’t wait to call you my wife, doll. From now on.”

You two made love that night. For the first time ever, you experienced what you’ve been waiting for. He wanted to wait until this day, knowing he finally has you for himself. It was so new, yet so pleasant. Elvis was gentle and wanted you to know that you are all that matters to him the most.

And you can’t wait to be his wife. To be his Y/n Presley.

#Spotify #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler x you #austinbutler #austin butler fandom #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fic #austin butler imagines #elvis 2022 movie #austin butler elvis presley #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis film

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thegettingbyp2 · 10 months ago

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I Never Liked Him Anyway

Summary: Reader comforts Austin!Elvis after he fires the Colonel

You were up and out of your seat the moment you heard Elvis yelling, trying to make your way backstage as inconspicuously as possible. You’d noticed that something was wrong with him before the show, drinking more than usual and taking a few more pills than normal, but he’d assured you that he was fine. It wasn’t until he started slurring his words and wavering that you realised just how wrong things were.

A rush of anger filled your body when you heard the things that Elvis was saying; about how the Colonel had been lying to him all these years, hindering his career just so he could earn more money. You hadn’t told Elvis about your feelings towards the Colonel because you had seen how grateful towards the Colonel Elvis was and you didn’t want to ruin that for him, however, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief when you heard Elvis tell the Colonel that he was fired.

When you finally made your way backstage, you saw Elvis on his own, on his knees in the middle of the stage and you didn’t waste a single second in rushing over to him, sinking to your knees and wrapping your arms around him the best you could.

‘You okay, baby?’ you asked softly, threading your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly as your other hand began to smooth up and down his arm.

‘Years,’ was all he said in reply, his voice rough but distant, his eyes screwed tightly closed. ‘Years I could have been touring the world, taking my music to my fans everywhere and he stopped all because he couldn’t leave the goddamn country.’ His voice had risen in volume as he spoke and you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

‘I know,’ you replied sadly, knowing that there wasn’t anything you could say to him to make things better at the moment.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, you just being there for him until you felt him calm down a bit. ‘Hey, do you want to know something?’ you asked, turning your head to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

‘Always, baby,’ he replied, picking your hand up and smoothing his thumbs over your knuckles.

‘I never liked him anyway,’ you whispered, making Elvis’ body vibrate with chuckles. He leaned back to sit on the floor, bringing you into his lap.

‘Is that so?’

‘Yeah, I didn’t like the way he seemed to have some kind of control over you. And I know he didn’t like me.’

‘You’re not wrong there, baby,’ he said softly, ‘he didn’t like how I’d always run everything by you, didn’t like how I always wanted your opinion on everything.’

‘Well, then, it sounds to me that you did the right thing by getting rid of him, huh,’ you said, tilting his chin playfully, making Elvis smile softly at you.

‘It definitely is, baby,’ he murmured, leaning down to press his lips tenderly to yours.

‘How about we head upstairs, jump in a bath and try and forget all this, at least for the rest of the night?’ you suggested, tugging on his jumpsuit slightly.

‘I think that sounds amazing, baby,’ he said, standing up before helping you up, throwing his arm around your shoulder and kissing the side of your head as you left the stage.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley imagine #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis #austin!elvis imagine

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pxnsneverland · 27 days ago

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Heartbreak Hotel | austin!elvis x oc (part 9)

(gif source: austinbutlermischief)

plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a costume designer at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 2369

warnings/notes:

Chapter 9: Caught in the Snare

A month later, Angel woke to an empty bed.

The sheets on Elvis's side were cold, indicating he'd been gone for hours. She glanced at the clock – 3:17 AM – and sighed, wrapping herself in a silk robe before padding barefoot through their suite at the International Hotel. The sound of the television led her to the living room where she found Elvis, still in his stage clothes from the night's second show, slumped in an armchair. An empty whiskey bottle lay on its side on the coffee table alongside an open pill bottle, several white tablets scattered across the polished surface.

"Elvis?" she called softly.

He turned to her with glassy eyes, his movements sluggish. "Hey, darlin'," he slurred, attempting a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Angel replied, carefully moving the pill bottle away as she sat on the arm of his chair. "What are you doing up? It's after three."

"Couldn't sleep." He gestured vaguely at the television where a late-night talk show played at low volume. "Mind's racin'."

Angel gently brushed back his hair, damp with sweat despite the room's chill. His skin felt clammy beneath her touch. "The doctor said you need to cut back on the pills, Elvis. They're making it worse, not better."

Elvis's expression hardened. "Doctor doesn't know what it takes to do what I do." He reached for another pill from the scattered few on the table, but Angel caught his wrist.

"Please," she whispered. "You've had enough."

For a moment, she thought he might argue, but then his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm just so tired, Angel," he confessed, his voice breaking. "Tired of the shows, tired of the Colonel's demands, tired of not being able to sleep without these damn pills."

"I know, baby." Angel helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as they walked unsteadily toward the bedroom. She helped him undress. The buttons of his stage shirt were slick with perspiration, and his hands shook as she worked to free him from the elaborate costume.

"The Colonel wants me to add a third show on weekends," Elvis mumbled as Angel helped him into pajamas. "Says the demand is there, the money's too good to pass up."

Angel's jaw tightened, but she kept her voice gentle. "You can barely handle two shows a night. Three would kill you."

"That's what I told him." Elvis sat heavily on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. "But—”

“I don’t want a dead husband, Elvis,” Angel said firmly.

Elvis looked up at her, his eyes clearing slightly at the steel in her voice. "Angel—"

"No," she interrupted, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands in hers. "I won't watch you destroy yourself for his greed. I’ll do something about this.”

Elvis squeezed her hands. He pulled her up onto the bed until they were both laying down, their hands still intertwined. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. Elvis was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.

"I want to go home," he finally whispered still not looking at her, “I want to wake up in our own bed without having to perform for anyone."

Angel's heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. "Then let's go home," she said softly.

"The Colonel won't let me," Elvis murmured, his eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion finally began to claim him. “Gotta…protect you. Won’t let him…take you…away.”

“What are you talking about, Elvis?” Angel asked with a furrowed brow.

But Elvis was already sleep. She sighed heavily stroking his hair. She lay beside him for a long while, watching the rise and fall of his chest, noticing how even in sleep, tension lingered in the lines of his face.

***

The bright morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming Angel's face as she sat at the desk in their suite. She'd barely slept after Elvis had finally drifted off, her mind racing.

Jerry knocked softly before entering with a tray of coffee. "Morning, Angel. You look like you've been up all night."

"Almost," she admitted, accepting the steaming cup gratefully. "Is he still asleep?"

Jerry nodded. "Dead to the world. Those pills..." He trailed off, his expression troubled.

“I’m worried about him, Jerry.”

"I'm worried too," Jerry admitted, setting down the tray. "He's pushing himself too hard. The Colonel's got him scheduled for interviews this afternoon, then two shows tonight."

Angel sipped her coffee, her jaw set with determination. "Something's not right. Last night, Elvis said something about protecting me, about not letting the Colonel take me away. It was like he was afraid."

“It’s probably nothing. Just ramblings,” Jerry said softly, “I mean what could the Colonel do now? Ya’ll are married.”

“You know Elvis, Jerry. He’ll kill himself to take care of everybody else,” Angel murmured, knowing she was at the top of that list. “If the Colonel said something to him—”

“Calm down, Angel,” Jerry interrupted before she could spiral. “Now I agree Elvis is being pushed too hard, but don’t go jumping to conclusions.”

Angel considered Jerry's words, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. "I need to speak to the Colonel," she said decisively, setting down her coffee cup.

"That might not be the best idea," Jerry cautioned, lowering his voice and glancing toward the bedroom where Elvis still slept. "The Colonel isn’t your biggest fan.”

"I don’t care what that man thinks of me," Angel replied, standing and smoothing down her dress. "I'm his wife. And I won't stand by while he works himself to death."

Jerry sighed. "At least wait until Elvis wakes up. Talk to him first."

Angel shook her head. "If I do that, he'll just tell me not to worry. He always does. Jerry, I need you to keep Elvis in the room when he wakes up. Tell him I went shopping or something. I'll be back before his first interview."

Jerry looked uncomfortable but nodded reluctantly. "Just... be careful, Angel. The Colonel plays dirty."

Angel kissed his cheek gratefully. "I know.”

***

Colonel Parker's suite at the International Hotel was a stark contrast to the one she shared with Elvis. Where their rooms were filled with personal touches—Elvis's records, Angel's sketches, family photographs—the Colonel's space was impersonal and coldly efficient. A makeshift office had been set up in the living area, files and contracts stacked in neat piles on a large desk.

The Colonel himself sat behind this desk, phone pressed to his ear, when his assistant showed Angel in. His eyebrows rose slightly at the sight of her, but he gave no other indication of surprise.

"I'll have to call you back," he said into the receiver before hanging up. "Mrs. Presley. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Angel remained standing, refusing his gestured invitation to sit. "We need to talk.”

The Colonel leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “About what?”

“About Elvis. About what you’re doing to him.”

"Doing to him? My dear, I'm making him more money than he's ever seen. The Vegas run is breaking records."

"He's killing himself," Angel said bluntly. "The pills, the exhaustion, three shows a night—"

"Two shows," the Colonel corrected smoothly. "Though the demand for a third is certainly there."

"You're considering it?" Angel's voice rose in disbelief. "He can barely function as it is."

The Colonel's smile never wavered, but his eyes hardened. "Mrs. Presley, I understand your wifely concerns, but Elvis is a professional. He knows what's required of him."

Angel stepped closer to the desk, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "He's afraid of you," Angel said, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. "Last night he was mumbling about protecting me from you. What did you threaten him with?"

The Colonel's smile faltered for just a moment before returning, tighter than before. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Don't lie to me," Angel hissed, planting her palms on his desk and leaning forward.

The Colonel's expression darkened, all pretense of civility vanishing. He reached for the intercom on his desk and pressed a button. "Andrews, come in here please."

The door opened almost immediately, and a large man in a dark suit entered. Andrews was at least six-foot-four with shoulders like a linebacker, his face impassive as he assessed the situation. The Colonel gave him a nod and he locked the door. The bodyguard moved with surprising speed for a man his size. Before Angel could react, his massive hand closed around her throat, not quite squeezing but applying enough pressure to make her gasp.

"Easy now, Mrs. Presley," the Colonel said, his voice sickeningly calm as he watched Andrews hold Angel in place. "No need for dramatics."

Angel's eyes blazed with fury even as she struggled to breathe properly. "Let me go," she managed.

The Colonel stood from his desk using his cane to walk over to them. "You see, my dear, you've misunderstood the nature of our arrangement. Elvis may think he's gained some measure of independence by marrying you, but the reality is quite different."

Angel's mind raced, searching for an escape route, but Andrews blocked the only exit. "What do you want?"

"What I've always wanted—complete control over Elvis Presley's career. And that includes controlling the influences around him." The Colonel leaned in closer to his mouth was right by Angel’s ear. “Sometimes I must remind him of this. After all, getting rid of you is quite easy.”

Angel's blood ran cold as the Colonel's words sank in. "You're threatening me."

"I prefer to think of it as clarifying the situation," the Colonel replied, straightening up. He gestured to Andrews, who released his grip on Angel's throat but remained close enough to grab her again if needed. "You see, Mrs. Presley, Elvis believes he's protecting you by continuing to work himself to death. He thinks that as long as he performs exactly as I demand, I'll leave you alone."

Angel rubbed her throat where Andrews had gripped it, her mind racing. "What did you tell him?"

The Colonel returned to his desk, settling into his chair with a satisfied expression. "Nothing too dramatic. Just that accidents happen in Las Vegas. Beautiful young women can disappear so easily in a city like this. The desert is vast, after all."

"You sick bastard," Angel whispered, horror and disgust churning in her stomach. The Colonel was worse than she'd imagined—not just manipulative, but truly dangerous.

"Crude, perhaps," the Colonel conceded with a shrug. "But effective. Elvis is quite devoted to you, after all. The mere suggestion that harm might come to you was enough to ensure his complete cooperation."

Angel's mind flashed back to Elvis's increasing dependency on pills, his exhaustion, his paranoia, his desperate attempts to please the Colonel despite his deteriorating health. It all made terrible sense now.

"You won't get away with this," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I could go to the police—"

"With what evidence?" the Colonel interrupted, his smile never reaching his eyes. "Your word against mine? The word of a costume designer who managed to marry one of the most famous men in America? They'll think you're after publicity or money."

Angel swallowed hard, her mind racing. The Colonel was right. Without evidence, who would believe her accusations against a man with his connections? But she couldn't let this continue. Elvis was slowly killing himself trying to protect her from a threat she hadn't even known existed.

"What happens now?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

The Colonel regarded her with cold calculation. "Now, Mrs. Presley, you have a choice to make. You can continue this ill-advised crusade against me, in which case I cannot guarantee your safety... or Elvis's continued career." He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. "Or you can be the supportive wife Elvis needs. Encourage him to fulfill his commitments, help him manage his... habits, and stay out of business matters."

"You're asking me to help you destroy him," Angel said, disgust evident in her voice.

"I'm asking you to help him succeed," the Colonel corrected smoothly. "Elvis is making more money than he ever has. His career has never been stronger. All I require is that he honor his commitments without... interference."

Angel felt sick to her stomach. "And if I refuse?"

The Colonel's smile turned predatory. "Then Andrews here will escort you on a little trip to the desert. Elvis will be told you simply... left. Couldn't handle the pressure of being married to a star. He'll be heartbroken, of course, but heartbreak can be quite motivating for an artist."

Angel's jaw tightened. "You're insane."

"I'm practical," the Colonel replied. He motioned to Andrew who unlocked the door and opened it. “Good day, Mrs. Presley.”

Angel stepped into the hallway, her legs trembling beneath her as the door closed behind her. She walked back to the suite. She looked into the bedroom. Elvis was still sound asleep. She could hear the shower going and supposed that’s where Jerry had disappeared to. She closed the door to the bedroom again and finally let her legs buckle falling to the floor.

She had underestimated the Colonel, terribly. She had underestimated the entire situation, terribly.Angel sat on the floor of their suite, her back against the bedroom door, trembling as the full weight of her situation crashed down upon her. The Colonel wasn't just manipulating Elvis's career. He was holding both their lives hostage. Every pill Elvis swallowed, every exhausted performance, every sleepless night was the result of his desperate attempt to keep her safe from a monster she hadn't even known was stalking them. What was she going to do? She was only a small town girl. A costume designer. She had no leverage, no nothing. Nothing but her love for Elvis and she couldn’t just watch him suffer. If he kept on like this, he was going to die right on that stage. There had to be a way out of this nightmare.

Stay tuned for part 10!! Click HERE to view!

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drtyelvisfantasy · 4 months ago

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elaine. I go by my middle name lol. elvis and lana lover. 19. black. summer baby. based in canada. In love with country music. shopping addict.

• I don’t take request at the moment but feel free to send things to my ask box (thoughts, convos)

• links: old masterlist, spotify, new masterlist

• other socials: pinterest-drtyelvisfantasy, tiktok-missamericana__, Instagram-coneyislandpr1ncess

rules: 18+ blog only!!

#elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fluff #austin butler x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #outer banks #outerbanks fanfiction

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floralcyanidee · 2 years ago

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˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

! please remember, in order to participate in kinktober, you must be 18+ as there will be nsfw material involved. anyone not following these rules will be blocked!

✧ hello! it's that time of year again (: I did my first kinktober last year, and it was a success (and still is), except I never fully finished it ): I'm hoping this year will be different because I'm starting as early as feasibly possible. if you think you've seen this post already from another account, you're correct. that's my account, except it is currently shadowbanned. so, I made this new account and decided to redo this masterpost as I'll probably be posting kinktober here. also, the prompt list has been edited as 28.08.2023.

✧ here is the taglist form if you'd like to be tagged in my kinktober works! click meee!♥

✧ prompt list is below!

day one. cockwarming with: Cillian Murphy

day two. nipple play with: Jonathan Crane

day three. blood play with: Charlie Walker

day four. orgasm control with: Stu Macher

day five. praise kink with: Mickey Altieri

day six. degradation with: Jonathan Crane

day seven. bondage with: Billy Loomis

day eight. edging with: Ethan Landry

day nine. breeding kink with: Roman Bridger

day ten. mutual masturbation with: Austin Butler

day eleven. throat fucking with: Ethan Landry

day twelve. threesome with: Stu Macher/Billy Loomis

day thirteen. knife kink or gun kink with: Gun Kink/ Tommy Shelby

day fourteen. sex toys with: Cillian Murphy

day fifteen. hate sex with: Jonathan Crane

day sixteen. thigh riding with: Richie Kirsch

day seventeen. sex tape with: Roman Bridger

day eighteen. squirting with: Neil Lewis

day nineteen. public play with: Jackson Rippner

day twenty. voyeurism with: Ethan Landry

day twenty-one. corruption kink with: Jonathan Crane

day twenty-two. daddy kink with: Cillian Murphy

day twenty-three. spanking with: Austin!Elvis

day twenty-four. shower sex with: Mickey Altieri

day twenty-five. roleplay with: Austin Butler

day twenty-six. face sitting with: Raymond Leon

day twenty-seven. dom/sub with: Ethan Landry

day twenty-eight. drunk sex or high sex with: High Sex/Stu Macher

day twenty-nine. phone sex with: Ethan Landry

day thirty. anal sex with: Jackson Rippner

day thirty-one. mommy kink with: Jonathan Crane

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isthlsfate · 1 month ago

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⌞ 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⌝

‧₊˚ ❀ ༉‧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: elvis presley/austin!elvis x black!reader, hurt to comfort, pt. 2 to “the other woman” but can be read as a standalone, inaccurate timeline, mentions of cheating, minimal language

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

‧₊˚ ❀ ༉‧

the letters pile up in the top drawer of his nightstand, tucked away like love notes from a life he’s scared he’s already lost.

elvis writes them at night, when the world goes quiet and the ache in his chest is too loud to ignore. sometimes he starts them with your name, just your name, like a prayer. other times he doesn’t write your name at all, just “you” over and over again, until his handwriting runs thin and jagged.

you should’ve answered me by now. and so on, and so on.

he sends them anyway.

he sends them to your old address, to your mother’s new job, and even to that bookstore you always used to slip away to when things got too loud around graceland.

each one comes back with a bright red stamp across the envelope: return to sender.

gladys tells him that you’re okay and that you’re working, but she won’t tell him where. everytime he presses her for more, she just says that you’re not asking after him.

she says it kindly, but it still stings.

vernon won’t say a word. and your mama? she gives him a look like she’s thinking of setting fire to his cadillac, and honestly, he wouldn’t blame her.

he keeps thinking of that night: the way your voice cracked, the way you screamed, “i was yours first!” and how everything in him crumbled like a house without a frame.

he hadn’t even fought for you. not really.

he just stood there like a damn fool and let you walk away with everything he ever wanted tucked inside your chest.

he hears about you from a neighbor once, said they saw you walking into humes with a tote bag full of books and that bright yellow dress you used to wear in the spring.

apparently, you’re a teacher now.

it was something you always talked about doing, and something he—well, he talked you out of it. told you it was too risky, that the world wasn’t ready, that he wasn’t ready. and that, more than anything, haunts him.

so he does what he knows, what he’s good at. he writes you a song. it’s corny, he knows it, but it’s got heart. a little bounce in the beat, something you might tap your foot to, if you weren’t so mad at him.

he calls it “return to sender.”

when he records it, he thinks of your eyes, and how you’d roll them when he said something stupid but still couldn’t quite hide the smile.

it’s warm out today, the sun shining over the overton park shell in ribbons of gold. you’ve staked out a spot under the shade of an old elm tree, your tote bag spilling open with graded math assignments and a worn paperback that smells like your childhood bedroom.

your little radio hums beside you, the dial slightly crackly but tuned just well enough to keep you company.

the laughter of children floats in the background, tangled with the breeze and the rustling of paper. you try to focus on the long division and multiplication tables, but your mind drifts.

that’s when it happens; you hear it. his voice.

“return to sender… address unknown…”

your heart stutters and you freeze in place. the pencil slips from your fingers, rolling across the page like it’s trying to run from the memories.

you know that voice too well.

you slap the radio off. the silence is immediate and violent, but the damage is done. it’s not just a song, it’s a letter, a message wrapped in rhythm and rhyme. it’s him reaching across the static and the space and the year that’s passed like it was nothing.

like he can just sing his way back into your life.

you pack up your things with shaking hands, your breath hitching, the corners of your vision stinging.

the audacity.

that man really had the gall to make a song about you, about the letters you wouldn’t answer, after everything he did?

you’re halfway to the car before you can talk yourself down. and then you’re behind the wheel, the road a blur beneath your tires, your heart a ticking bomb inside your chest.

you get to graceland in record time, unclicking your seatbelt and letting the door shut with a slam.

you stomp up the steps like you own the place, rage pouring off you in hot, uneven waves.

you don’t even have to knock—gladys opens the door with that familiar warmth in her eyes, though her expression shifts when she sees the firestorm written all over your face.

“well, hey there, baby girl—oh, lord, you look like you got a bone to pick!”

“i do,” you say, breathless. “where is he?”

her eyes widen. “he’s upstairs—”

that’s all you need. you march right past her.

you’re storming up the steps, every thud of your feet echoing through the house like thunder.

his door is half-open. that’s his first mistake.

you push it the rest of the way, and there he is, sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt rumpled, hair a mess, guitar in hand like he was waiting for a reason to sing again.

he looks up and his face drains of color.

“you’ve got some goddamn nerve,” you hiss, the words spilling out like lava. “writing a song about me? after you lied? cheated? after you let me walk away like i was nothing?”

he sets the guitar down slowly. like he’s afraid it might shatter.

“i didn’t know what else to do,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“oh, i don’t know,” you shoot back. “how about tell the truth? how about fight for me, elvis?”

he stands and runs a hand through his hair like that’ll tame the guilt clawing at his throat.

“i tried. i’ve been trying. letters, phone calls. your mama threatened to throw a hot comb at me last week.”

you don’t laugh. you don’t even blink.

“i don’t care. you don’t get to write a love song and think that makes it right. you left me behind like i was nothing but a secret. and now you want to sing me back?”

he steps closer, but you step back.

“i was scared,” he says softly. “of what people would say. of losin’ everything.”

“you did lose everything.” you laugh, bitter and sharp.

he flinches.

“i never stopped loving you,” he whispers. “not for one second.”

your jaw tightens. “then why’d you let me go?”

“i was stupid.” his voice cracks. “i let the colonel, the fans, the damn world tell me what i could and couldn’t have. but i’m done. i’m done lettin’ them pull me in every direction but the one that leads to you.”

he steps forward again, slow this time, like you’re a deer and he’s scared you’ll bolt.

“i’m tired, satnin,” he says. “i’m tired of singin’ songs i don’t mean, tired of smilin’ when all i wanna do is cry. i need you. not for the fame. not for the headlines. for me. for the part of me that only breathes when you’re around.”

you stare at him, trembling.

the silence between you stretches long and aching. you want to scream. you want to run.

you want to fall into him and disappear.

instead, you whisper, “it’s not that easy.”

“i know.” he nods.

“i’m still angry.”

“you should be.”

“i don’t know if i can trust you.”

“i’ll earn it,” he says, voice raw. “every day. however long it takes.”

you look at him.

beneath the tired eyes and trembling hands is the boy who used to sneak into your room and whisper secrets to the moon. the one who kissed you like you were holy. the one who broke your heart without even meaning to.

and maybe, just maybe, the one who can piece it back together.

you take a shaky breath.

“you don’t get to write any more songs about me unless i say so.”

a small smile tugs at his lips.

“deal.”

“and i swear, if you ever, ever, call another woman beside me or your mama ‘satnin’—”

“never again. cross my heart.” he lifts his hands in surrender, chuckling through a tear.

you don’t smile, not yet, but you step forward.

and this time, when he reaches for you, you don’t step back.

graceland softens in the evening light, gentle golden rays melting over the windows like honey.

everything is quieter now, the storm between you and elvis having passed, and the house seems to breathe again.

you sit in the kitchen, legs curled beneath you on one of the stools, watching elvis as he moves around like it’s second nature. he’s making coffee—real coffee, not that instant kind you always teased him about—and humming some old gospel tune under his breath. every so often, he glances over like he’s checking to make sure you’re still real, still here.

the silence between you is gentle now, earned, like a quilt worn soft at the edges.

he pours a cup and sets it in front of you, your favorite mug: the chipped one with the faded cardinal on it. he remembered.

“still two sugars?” he asks, quietly.

you nod.

he sits across from you, hands wrapped around his own mug, fingers tapping the ceramic like a nervous habit. his foot nudges yours under the table. not demanding. just there.

“i don’t wanna scare you off,” he says softly. “but bein’ here with you like this… it feels like the world’s finally holdin’ still.”

you sip your coffee.

“don’t get all poetic on me now.”

he grins. “can’t help it. you make me wanna write sonnets.”

you roll your eyes, but the warmth behind them betrays you. he sees it, and it makes his breath catch.

after coffee, you help him tidy up the living room. not because it needs it, but because it’s something to do with your hands. you fold blankets, fluff pillows, and rearrange the record stack so it’s alphabetized (because it always drove you nuts that he didn’t).

he watches you from the armchair like he’s memorizing it all.

from the kitchen, his mother looks on with a knowing smile, settled comfortably in her favorite chair by the window.

“y’know,” elvis says, “i used to dream about this.”

“about alphabetized records?”

he laughs.

“nah. about you. here. not as some secret… not as the maid's daughter… not as someone i had to send songs to just to feel close to. but like this. just… bein’. cookin’ and talkin’ and livin’ in the quiet.”

you glance at him over your shoulder. “that dream still on the table?”

he sits forward, elbows on his knees, eyes soft.

“only if you still want it too.”

you don’t answer with words. instead, you walk over, slip into his lap, and rest your head on his shoulder. his arms come around you instinctively, and there’s that feeling again.

safety.

you hadn’t felt it in so long.

“you scared me,” you whisper. “when you let me go.”

“i scared myself.” he presses his lips to your temple.

you sit like that for a long while, just breathing each other in, the weight of the year between you finally dissolving.

later, you fall asleep tangled together on the couch, his heartbeat thudding steady beneath your cheek. the tv hums softly in the background—some old western neither of you were really watching. his fingers trace lazy circles against your arm, and you drift, safe in the knowledge that this time, he’s not going anywhere.

when you wake up, the first thing you hear is him murmuring a melody. not for the stage or for the charts. just for you.

“are you lonesome tonight, do you miss me tonight,” he sings softly, voice thick with something unspoken.

his eyes meet yours, searching tenderly, like he’s trying to hold every word between you.

you don’t say anything. you just tighten your arms around him and meet his gaze, the silence full of questions and answers that don’t need saying.

because maybe the world isn’t fair. maybe love hurts like hell.

but tonight, you’re here. you’re his and he’s yours.

___

꩜ taglist: @literally-just-elvis-fics @elvisslut @presleyhearted @elvis-presleys-stuff

#reader insert #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis x black!reader #elvispresleyxblack!reader #elvis presley #austin butler #elvis presley x reader #austin!elvis x reader

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bodyelectr1c · 11 months ago

Text

keep talkin’

austin butler as benny cross

just smut, no plot

i love benny, i was enamoured in the cinema

warnings: degradation, rough sex, possessiveness, a little overstim if you squint, not proofread, dirty talk

no spoilers for the bikeriders movie :)

benny cross wasn’t much of a talker

from the day you’d met him, he always let you do the talking. he’d let you go on and on without more than a few words, and you didn’t mind it, and clearly, nor did he.

but when it came to sex, benny cross talked.

talked you through your orgasm, talked dirty to you, degraded you, the whole lot. his voice was deep and rough during sex, a result of the years of smoking and riding, and he took the utmost advantage of this.

from the first time he claimed you, bullied his fat cock into you, saw how you reacted when he talked down to you, told you how much of a slut you were, how tight you were, writhing and babbling on his cock while he split you open, he knew he had found his favorite game.

benny reveled in it, got off on it, honestly. the way you melted under his words, in the way your body betrayed your mind's resistance, the way you’d squirm and try to stifle your moans, trying to hide the way his degradation turned you on.

"look at you," he'd tsk, feigning disapproval “fucking desperate for my cock. you need it, don’t you baby?” his grip punishing on your hips, forcing you to take every inch. "such a needy little slut, can't get enough of my cock, can you? always so tight for me, always so wet."

with benny, every thrust was deliberate, each stroke accompanied by a litany of degrading affirmations. "you love this, don't you? being my fuck toy, my little whore. look at how you're dripping for me. pathetic." he’d spit out between ragged moans

you'd gasp, the shame mixing with pleasure, making your body respond even more fervently to his rough handling. he'd grab your hair in fistfuls, pull your head back, making sure you saw the depravity in your own eyes reflected in the mirror.

"fuck- cmon, take it all, you fucking minx. you were made for this, weren't you? for me, to be used, to be filled up with my cum. fucking say it." he’d prompt you as he jackhammered the fat head of his cock further in you, smacking against your cervix repeatedly with a squelching sound.

and you would, because he made you, because his voice alone made you almost cum on the spot.

because the power in his voice left no room for anything else but obedience.

"yes, benny, fuck- ‘m yours, need your cock, need to get fucked, love your cock, please cum in me, pleasepleaseplease." you barely even knew what you were saying, you just knew you needed him, needed what he could give you.

he’d let out a loud, deep moan, music to your fucking ears, the sound sent shivers down your spine even as your body betrayed you again, arching into his touch, seeking more.

he'd smack your ass, hard, leaving his mark on you as a reminder of who you belonged to, relishing in your screams.

"that's right. you’re mine. no one else can fuck you like this, stuff their cock so deep in you, make you forget your own name. no one else can make you cum like i do.” his voice would begin breaking, his moans choked as he neared the edge. “cmon baby, cum on my cock, cum for me, m so close. don’t- fuck, don’t forget this feeling baby. don’t forget how good i stretch you, fill you. you feel full baby? stuffed?”

all you could do was nod, frantically as your thighs shook and your orgasm washed over you, and despite all he’d say, benny would hold you close, soothe your body through the orgasm as it wracked through you, whispering praises and endless filthy words into your ear.

"that's my good girl, my perfect little slut. look at you, falling apart for me, taking every inch like you were made for it."

he'd hold you tighter, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate, each one fucking you further into the mattress, fucking deeper into your already overstimulated cunt. his big, rough hands, callused from years on the bike, would wander over your body, leaving eventual bruises and marks in their wake, reminding you of your place, of his dominance.

"fuck, baby," he'd groan, the desperation in his voice eminent. "'m gonna fill you up, gonna pump you full of my cum. you want that, hm? want me to cum in your pretty cunt, baby?"

you'd nod, barely coherent, lost in the haze of pleasure and degradation, along with the comedown of your high. "yes, benny, please. need it, need you s’ bad."

his grip would tighten impossibly more, breath hot against your neck as he thrust deeper, harder, faster, driving himself to the brink.

"take it all, baby. so good for me, gonna mark you as mine."

with a final, guttural growl, benny would bury himself to the hilt, body shuddering as he came, flooding you with his release. the feeling of him pulsing inside you would trigger another wave of pleasure, leaving you trembling and spent beneath him.

benny would never let you go immediately.

he'd stay buried deep inside you, breathing heavy, his hands still possessive on your skin. he'd savor the moment, the way your body molded to his, the way you fit him perfectly.

"good girl," he'd murmur, his voice softer now. "you did so good for me. you’re perfect baby,” he’d punctuate his sentence with a soft kiss to your lips, before pulling out, exuding another moan from you.

he’d smirk, rolling over to the bedside table, already reaching for a cigarette.

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #elvis presley #austin!elvis x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #benny cross #benny cross smut #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders #the bikeriders smut

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eternal-love · 6 months ago

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what I wouldn’t give to be in church this Sunday…

a little Elvis edit I made to Sun Bleached Flies. I thought it fit him perfectly!

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oldermen-apologist · 11 months ago

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˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚ AUSTIN BUTLER ˚ · .˚ ༘🦋

Actor!Austin -

Be my baby : Sub!Aus smut

Sweet nothings : Smut

Trouble : Smut

Winding down : Fluff

Orgasm denial : Smut

Austin!Elvis -

After midnight - Smut

Safety - Fluff

Hands all over - sub!e smut

Acts of lust - Smut

Austin!Sebastian -

Brat : Smut

Tension : Smut

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler fluff

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youaintnothinbuta · 1 year ago

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𝐄𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

FLUFF

meeting your family

playin’ house

“Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.”

“I didn’t know you could sing!”

Elvis the pelvis

“if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes” - PART 1

(part two in smut)

“if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes” - PART 3

first kiss

“mama, will you teach daddy how to?”

worried about you (DDM)

daddy Elvis

“oh good lord, deeper, Elvis!”

“What’re ya doing out at this time by yourself, anyway?”

“Do you have to show off?”

lunch with his family

“Thank you for being brave enough to ask.”

“I’m telling you, honey, you ain’t gon’ like it.”

“I’ve got her, you relax.”

“Are you going to come see daddy’s show, little girl?”

“What are you doing up, little lady?”

"Don't tell me you can't ever again."

“She’s being a real brat.”

“Hey now, don’t you start questioning me too.”

“Elvis, stop it.”

“I wanna go steady.”

“Just a little bit more.”

“Is everyone where you’re from this pretty?”

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night”

SMUT

“got the blood pumping quite a bit there, hey sweetheart?”

finish what you started

“if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes” - PART 2

“Come home, baby, please.”

“Looks like Presley’s got himself a little plaything.”

“I can’t think straight with such a view.”

“I got what I wanted.”

“It’s okay, baby, come.”

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hiddeninthemagnolias · 8 days ago

Text

Chapter 1

Crossed lines

Moving to a new city for a fresh start was foreign to honey the only person she knew in midwest Chicago was her dear friend Kathy plus she needed to lend her 500 dollars for something she did for her way back. Honey was going to meet up with Kathy that night, she talked to her earlier that day, she said where they were meeting would be at a bar and that the guys where having a meeting, Honey didn't mind meeting at the bar but she didn't know that the bar would be packed to the brim, there was the heavy smell of smoke and beer. the first guy she saw was corky, Cory a shirtless guy in a vest wrapped his arm around honey "Hey beautiful! You need a man?" honey drops her head and Corky moves on with a yell at the bartender. As she scans the bar for her girlfriend, Honey passes an assortment of crazed bike riders. Honey wedges her way to the back where Kathy waves her to a table with another bike rider, Honey slides Kathy the money and looked around

"here." Kathy kissed her cheek and pulled a chair next to her "you're the best" Honey looked around "I gotta go Kath-" Kathy cut her off before she could finish saying her name "why?, you just got here. that's cockroach" Honey looked physically disturbed "what?" she looked at the man who Kathy called "cockroach" "they call me cockroach" the man with the big bushy side burns said "why they call you a stupid name like that." Cockroach scoffed like it was an obvious question that honey just asked 'Cause I like to eat bugs you know?Like a gag. But I do, I mean, like to eat 'em. Bugs you know?" Honey looked at him bewildered "that's disgusting I gotta go." Kathy rolled her eyes "oh they're not that bad, just sit a minute ill get you a soda" Honeys attention trickle to the other bikers passing by one name wahoo and corky who she say earlier start pestering her , wahoo smug as ever stepped up to honey, "hey there cutie, you wanna come live with me?" Honey nodded no "I uhm no thank you." then corky spoke up "what about me you wanna come live with me?" honey was scared it was like she was in kindergarten again when all the kids crowded her just to ask to be friends. she looked to him and she says no " I have a date." corky scoffed not believing her "a date? " Yeah, 12 o'clock. I-I have to get home."

"You hear that, Cockroach?" corky said "Cinderella’s got a date." Cockroach being smug as ever scoffs once again "Cinderelli’s got a date at twelve o’clock. She’s about to turn into a fuckin’ pumpkin." Cockroach gets up and the guys laugh as they trail off. Boy did Honey feel out of place she felt so small she aint never been around rowdy guys before, Kathy comes back with a glass cola and she hands it to honey, honey who still looks shooken up just says what she's been saying from the start "thank you but I seriously gotta go now." honey stands up and when she does she sees Johnny lookin at her she turned her head around a few times to clarify that he was looking at her and sure as hell he was, he nodded to her with a comforting smile she nodded back unsure of what to do then brucie, whispered into johnny's ear. Honey looks around and a group of guys were staring at her. She sits back down next to Kathy, "ya see that they're planning something all of em, you think they planning against me?" Kathy gives her a deadpanned look "honey you need to calm down nothin''s gonna happen you have ya cola sit down and drink it yeah?". Honey didn't feel comfortable she gathered her things and her cola "im leaving Kath." she stands up and from across the room she sees him. Benny.

She sits back down next to Kathy. "boy who's that good lookin guy over there?" Kathy croons her neck to look over where honey's lookin at she quickly nods her head no "oh honey you don't wanna go out with him." honey looks at the man who locks eyes with her she quickly averted her gaze "well why not he doesn't look like the rest of these animals." Kathy takes a sip from her cola "he hurts himself on his bike, every time he rides his bike there's an accident" honey sipped her cola "oh." Kathy notices some of the guys messing with something in the corner "these idiots, stay here honey? please don't leave" Honey sipped her cola and nodded.. She sat there feeling out of place once again, I mean in her defense she was from the south she never saw anything like this in new orleans it was just jazz music playing or the horn of a steamboat blowing. Honey sips her cola and she feels someone brush behind her, it was benny he sat in Kathy's chair "im benny" he bluntly says, Honey took notice to that "hello" she says, benny just stares at her mesmerized then he smiles at her it made her smile. "what are we doin her just shooting a breeze?" Bennys ears perk up to her accent she wasn't from Chicago. "yeah I guess" he says honey scoffs and sips her cola "well I gotta go" he looks at her still smiling "okay." he doesn't move. Neither does Honey, then he gets up putting his hands up in mock serenader "you gotta go" he stands and walks into the crowd.

She looks as he walks away then Johnny sits in front of her. "cmon what is this a roundabout?" her accent slipping in more, he smiles and lights a cigarette. "what's yer name?" Honey takes one last sip from her cola "its honey" Johnny chuckles a bit "like the condiment?" honey noted his reaction to that and her southern accent came out even more "yeah it is and do you have a problem with that." Johnny started laughing at her boldness he took a drag from his cigarette "you're from the south hm? a southern belle" he takes another drag "well honey don't worry", honey perked up at this "don't worry about what?" she looks at him high on alert , he flicks as he off the end of his smoke "nuthin" she cracks a fake laugh "har har , thank you for that but im leaving now." she got up pushing through the crowd slapping some people's hands from touching her bottom side. she finally out of the door the streets where very quiet she stood on the corner, then benny walked out smoking a cig, her eyes followed him he didn't look at her he just got on the bike, other bikers barged out of the door edging honey to get on the bike she felt ambushed, so she got on. she saw Kathy on the back of wahoos bike she mouthed an "im sorry" honey just gave her a nod.

Honey grips the side of his jacket as he speeds she could faintly hear cockroach yelling "See ya on the expressway!" benny shoots off speeding through stop lights maybe he was going so fast so she wouldn't jump off. when they made it to the expressway she heard other bikes behind them, it was the whole club. It was her first time experiencing something like this. Honey didn't get home until four in the morning ,that night. "okay adios thank you for.. what ever that was" she walk her new small pale yellow house she moved into about a month ago, she heard the bike pull off then come back around she looked around one more time seeing him sitting there then she walked into the comforts of her home. Its Been one hell of a day for her.

TAGLIST-@xmrsbutlerx @mvst4far

#austin butler #elvis presley #benny cross x reader #1960s #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler angst #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #orginal character #the bikeriders #tom hardy #bucky barnes x you #elvis the pelvis #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fic #austin and me #austin butler elvis

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ssinnerplazahotel · 7 months ago

Text

WC:3k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, yandere elvis, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Note/: intended for black readers but written with no physical descriptions—all reader’s welcomed

When you saw him watching, you couldn’t help but put on a show. He didn’t seem like the type of man to approach a woman; you imagined he wouldn’t have had to do so often. Instead, he watched you move around the crowded lounge for over half an hour. He smiled softly whenever you caught his eye but otherwise only looked when you weren’t. At one point you had moved to the opposite side of the room and you thought you’d lost him. But when he managed to find you, you managed to find it in your heart to put him out of his misery.

He spoke first when you were close enough to hear him over the band. “You’re good at that.”

“At what?”

“Dancing.”

You laughed. “You’re good at watching.”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

“Your name?”

You pretended not to be able to hear him over the music and offered to go upstairs to talk some place quieter. He hesitated and although you wondered why, you didn’t question it. You managed to get through the dense crowd without losing each other and you guided him upstairs.

“Yo, Treasure.” You found a familiar face lingering by the staircase.

“Chuck, baby, why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“You can’t be more surprised than me,” He said. “You look good.”

“You look the same as when I saw you last.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“He doesn’t have a name yet.” You smiled and continued up the stairs with your new friend in tow.

“Your name’s Treasure?” He asked.

“It is for Chuck.”

“What is it for me?”

You thought for a moment. “…Birdie.”

“Why ‘birdie?’”

“Have you ever seen a bird stay in one place for more than a few seconds?”

“No.”

“Exactly.” He was still confused. “I’m saying that I refuse to stay still.”

“You refuse?”

“Yeah.”

“…I struggle keeping still myself.”

“I guess we’re the same.”

He stepped towards you whenever you stepped back, keeping the space between you minimal. “Do you live around here?”

“I’m not from here.”

“Where are you from?”

“Nowhere.”

“W-What’s that mean?”

“I sorta go wherever I want and do whatever I want.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, and I don’t stop by the same place twice.” He looked disappointed. “My mother was the same way, so I can’t really say I’m from anywhere.”

“Oh.”

“What’s your name, baby?”

“O-Oh, it’s uh, Elvis.”

“Uh-Elvis?”

He chuckled softly and despite the dim light you saw the tips of his ears turn red. “Yeah.”

“I saw you up there talking to BB.”

“Yeah, w-we uh—I know him.”

“He ever show you this room?” You went over to the window and looked out. “They used to leave me up here when I was too little to party.”

“You were little? I-I mean, y-you knew him w-when you were little?”

“Come look, you can see the road from here.” You waited for him to cross the room, watching his expression as he looked out the window. He didn’t look too impressed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…w-why’d you ask?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would you?”

You shrugged. “Just being careful.”

He stepped closer. “You don’t have to be careful with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

You slipped your hands onto his shoulders. “Still okay?”

He nodded.

“Yes?” You wondered.

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“You can touch me, y’know?”

When he realized that his arms were still motionless at his sides he moved to hug your waist; you smiled as your body pressed against his.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You laughed.

“I-I don’t—y-you’re just…I don’t think I’ve met a girl like you.”

“You need to get out more.”

You couldn’t make out his expression as he examined your face. “Can I kiss you?”

You were shocked that he had been polite enough to ask. “Only if you promise to buy me a drink.”

He nodded. “Whatever you want.”

He wasn’t only polite in asking, he was polite in letting you make every move. His lips were soft when they met yours. He was nice…too nice.

“Remember when you said I didn’t have to be careful with you?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“You don’t have to be careful with me either.”

“Okay.”

“Touch me, Elvis.”

“Okay.”

He deepened the kiss but it was up to you to take his idle hands and make them grope your breasts. After that bit of encouragement, they were all over you as he held you against the windowsill. You wondered if anyone could see the two of you from the road but you didn’t care enough to stop.

You guided his right hand under the skirt of your dress and he rubbed you through the damp fabric of your underwear. You smiled against his lips when he pushed the fabric aside and his trembling fingers met your arousal. He kissed you more eagerly and touched you with the same vigor. Despite his nerves, he was sure of himself as he fingered you within an inch of your life.

“Yes, baby, that’s perfect,” You whimpered. You could feel his confidence growing with every word of encouragement. Soon he broke the kiss in favor of meeting your eyes; forcing you over the edge with one final thrust in the right direction. Before he pulled away, you guided his hand to your lips.

“No,” He whispered in awe, watching with lust blown pupils as you lick his fingers clean.

You kissed him again, grinning at the desperation behind his tongue but stopping suddenly. “H-How about that drink, huh?”

His shock didn’t go unnoticed. “O-Oh…”

“You owe me, remember.”

“Y-Yeah…okay.”

He looked confused when you moved to unbuckle his belt. The sound he made when you touched him scratched a certain part of your brain—it made you want to make him fall apart. It’d be so easy.

“Oh my god,” He muttered breathlessly as you tucked his errection into his waist band.

“We’ll just tuck this away for later. No one will ever know.” You instructed him to fix his belt while you grabbed your purse.

“W-What, uh…What drink do you want?”

“Something sweet.”

“Something sweet,” He repeated. “…Sure.”

“Go, I’m right behind you,” You said, stopping to wipe your lipstick off his lips before ushering him the rest of way out of the room.

You followed him out after fixing your clothes and makeup. When you got downstairs you stopped the first man you ran into.

“Hey, baby, come here.” You smiled and motioned for him. “Wanna buy me a drink?”

“In exchange for what?”

You almost rolled your eyes. “You choose.”

“What do you want?”

“Something sweet.”

He looked like a man who struck gold as he rushed towards the bar. You spotted Elvis there too and you couldn’t help but laugh watching the two order similar drinks.

“Hope this is sweet enough for you, doll,” Elvis said as he handed over the drink, kissing your cheek along the way. BB showed up and began pestering him about treating you right, but you could hardly pay attention as you kept an eye out for the tall dark devil you sent to the bar. Your stomach churned in delight when you saw him making his way over. You took a seemingly harmless step away from Elvis and BB when he neared, abandoning the drink that had been placed in your hands just moments before.

“Something sweet,” He said when he found you.

“Aw, baby, you really shouldn’t have.” You felt Elvis’ eyes boring into you, how could you not when he was only a few feet away.

“I bet you’re the sweet one, really.”

“Stop,” You chuckled.

“Once you finish that we can roll.”

“Roll where?”

You choked on your strawberry daiquiri, covering your mouth to hide your amusement at the sound of Elvis’ voice.

“Is there a reason you’re talking to me?”

“Is there a reason you’re talking to my girl?”

“Your girl?” The stranger looked at you.

“I’ve never seen that man in my life,” You said with an oblivious expression, ignoring BB’s horrified one.

“Hold on just a damn minute~” Elvis started as the man went to defend you, stepping in front of you to act as a barrier.

“BB you oughta get this flamingo outta here, he don’t fit no way.”

You backed away discreetly, moving away as BB kept the two men from attacking each other. You abandoned your drink on a nearby table, slipping down the wooden steps of the lounge and into the cool night. You were relieved to be outside again. You sauntered into the street, hardly dodging the few cars that still lingered that late in the evening. You looked back at the club once more before disappearing into the night with a final laugh.

“I don’t know when you’re gonna stop coming back here. I can’t keep blocking off streets for you.”

“Anything?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking~”

“BB, please.”

“E.P…” The man sighed, pouring a drink. “It’s the same as I told you before, I ain’t seen her since that night.”

“Has anyone seen her?”

“Nah…” He offered Elvis the drink but he declined the glass.

“I’m getting on the road tomorrow,” He said instead. “I dunno when I’ll be back in Memphis again.”

BB looked thrilled. “That’s good to hear~”

“I wanted to see her again before~”

“That girl’s probably halfway across somewhere by now. She don’t stay put.”

“You said she’s your cousin.”

“That’s how I know. I heard stories about her for years ‘fore I actually laid eyes on her, that’s how fast she moves around.”

“…There was something about her.”

“There’ll be something about someone else soon I’m sure.”

“What’s her name?”

“I can’t~”

“Please. I’ll never see her again anyway. Neither will you from the looks of it.”

He looked conflicted but ultimately answered. “…It’s Y/n.”

“Y/n?”

“Are you bunnies talking about me?”

BB groaned and rushed to push the door shut before any desperate stragglers slipped through. “Can you get that maniac upstairs before I have to board up another window.”

You couldn’t tell if Elvis was the maniac or if you were. “Oh, BB, aren’t you happy to see me at least?”

“Upstairs!”

“Fine.”

You huffed and led the way upstairs. You faced Elvis when you were behind the door of the small room upstairs. He looked the same as when you saw him last, only the circles under his eyes were darker and he looked more stressed.

“What happened to not stopping by the same place twice?”

“You remember that but not the part where I told you that I do whatever I want.” He rolled his eyes. “You look tired.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“I called that number you gave BB.”

“He’s really not supposed to be giving that out.”

“A man picked up.”

You liked the jealous undertone in his voice, it made you smile. “Did he say ‘hi?’”

“Who was it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Did he give you my message?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

His jaw twitched. “…I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I know that’s why I came today.”

“You couldn’t have come sooner? Shit, I asked BB about you a million times in the last five weeks.”

“That’s a lot of asking when you could’ve just called.”

“And talk to your man?”

“And talk to my dad, jackass.”

He looked stunned and you laughed. “Y-Your dad? You live with your father?”

“No, but I stop by to pick up my mail when I’m in town.”

“Which is…whenever you want?”

“That’s right, bunny.”

“Uh-uh, don’t go giving me one of your freaky little nicknames, alright, I got a name. I like my name, I want the whole world to know it~”

“I didn’t mean to get you all flustered~”

“I don’t get flustered.”

You bit back a smile. “Okay.”

He sighed and looked off. “I can’t believe you’d wait til tonight to show up.”

“I came as soon as I got the message.”

“You’re playing with me.”

“I’m not. You’re the only reason I came back.”

“You’re lying.”

“Come on, bun…Elvis.” You inched towards him, waiting until he met your eyes to continue. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I’m happy to see you, I just wish I didn’t feel like I had to stare at you for the next five hours to make up for the past five weeks.”

“You count like a girl.”

“You get around like one.”

“How dare you~”

“Where do you go when you run off in the middle of the night? You aren’t sleeping in the street are you?”

You were shocked by his forwardness. “It’s none of your business, honestly.”

“Of course it isn’t. Because you do whatever you want, you go wherever you want to go~”

You groaned. “You’re making me regret even showing back up in this old, deadbeat town.”

“I feel like an idiot. All these days I’ve been holding you up here when really you’re subpar with the rest~”

“It’s not my fault you spent the last five weeks hoping you could fuck me before tour~”

“I don’t want to fuck you, I want to talk. I hardly said two words to you the last time I saw you.”

“I’m not the talking type.”

“Where do you go at night?”

“…I just…fly away.”

“You fly away?”

“Yeah, but…I gotta stop by and pick up my mail tonight. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” He responded sarcastically. “I’ll just pull my fucking jet around.”

You laughed. “I’m serious. Unless you’re too mad at me.”

“…I’m not mad at you,” He finally said.

“Then come with me.”

“Fine.”

“Can you get us out of here?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect.”

You were hoping to avoid running into Ron, but he was up waiting for you when you got there. You couldn’t make out his expression, but you knew he wasn’t happy.

“This is Elvis. I told you about him.”

“Elvis? What kind of name is that?”

Elvis started to respond but you stopped him in time. “Some guys were bothering me so he was walking me home. We were just saying goodnight.”

“Bothering you where?”

You shook your head. “Nowhere, just up the street b-by O'malley's…”

“…We need to talk.”

“Okay, baby, I’ll come talk to you in a minute.”

“It was nice to meet you, Ron.”

“Yeah…”

You stopped Elvis when he headed back toward the door, holding your finger to your lips until you heard Ron’s bedroom door shut behind him. You motioned for the stairs and carefully crept up them—showing him how to avoid the creaky parts of the steps. You were relieved when you were behind the door of your bedroom.

“That wasn’t so bad.” You slipped his coat off your shoulders and threw it on your bed.

“That’s your dad?” He looked uneasy.

“Yeah, but only when he’s sober.” You laughed.

“Is that your father?”

“…No.”

“Are you together?”

“No…he don’t care what I do as long as he gets the final word.”

“And does he?”

“Does he what?”

“Does he get the last word?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because it don’t seem right.”

“Bunny, don’t make it more complicated than it is~”

“I’m not playing your game right now, I’m serious.”

“So am I—leave it alone. You can go back where you came from if you think you’re gonna be sitting up here interrogating me like you’re my goddamn daddy.”

“But he can?”

“Yes, he can. And can also put a bullet between your eyes if I ask him to.”

He looked shocked. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Do I even have to say it?”

“Say what?”

“I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Y’know what…fine, that’s fine.”

You almost felt yourself stopping him when he turned to leave. You refrained and instead faced your window to light a cigarette. You heard the shuffle of his coat going on before there was silence.

“Is this where you’ll be?”

“Aren’t you leaving tomorrow?”

“Is this where you’re going to be?”

“Not if I can help it.”

He sighed. “Will he give you my messages?”

You nodded. “I’ll get them whenever I drop by.”

“Can you try to do that more often?”

“Drop by?”

“Yeah. So I can hear from you while I’m on the road.”

“…I’ll try.”

“Will you?”

“I’ll try, bunny, I promise.”

When you heard from him again it had been weeks later when you received a copy of his latest record in the mail. Ron got real quiet when he saw what it was—not good. You flew away quickly that night; leaving the record behind as proof of how much it meant to you.

The next time you heard Elvis’ voice, you just so happened to be in town when he called.

“Hello?”

“Birdie?”

“Elvis?”

“You’re home?”

“Elvis…”

“Hello?”

“Y-You can’t call this late, you’ll wake up Ron.”

“Why are you whispering? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…h-he just now went to sleep and I don’t want to wake him up.”

“I called last week and I ain’t heard nothing back.”

“Sorry, he…” You checked down the hall before dropping your voice some more. “He’s still mad about th-the record you sent.”

“He is?”

“Yeah, y-you really can’t do those kinds of things.”

“I thought you said Ron don’t care.”

“…Ron takes care of me, Elvis.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, so if he asks me not to accept gifts from other people I don’t accept gifts from other people.”

“For someone who does whatever they want he has you on a leash this big~”

“I’m hanging up.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I can’t talk.”

“I’m sorry about the record. I s-sent em around to everyone. I-I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I know…don’t do it again, that’s all.”

He fell silent on the other line and you didn’t rush the silence, you just let it be until he spoke up again. “Where are you going to be tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” You responded. “What about you?”

“I don’t know…”

You couldn’t let the silence sit that time. “I have to go before he realizes I’m gone.”

“…I’m starting to think you don’t feel safe.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna come get you.”

You stifled a laugh. “Oh no.”

“I’m serious.”

“Come get me then.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you be there?”

“You always ask the right questions, don’t you?”

He was serious. “Birdie.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Will you be there?”

“Honestly? I hope not.”

He sighed softly but he didn’t say anything about being disappointed. “I’m gonna be in Ohio for the next two weeks.”

“Okay. Good luck in Ohio.”

“…Thank you.”

“…You’ll break my heart if you make me hang up first.”

You heard him chuckle and after a beat of silence the line went dead.

“Every time I see you I go to pinch myself.”

“Do you know what it takes for a girl like me to get this far this fast?”

“I’m sure Ohio’s happy you’re here.”

“Ohio better not be the only thing happy to see me. I might turn my ass around.”

He laughed. “Y-You wanna ride with us?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m headed to meet someone. I just thought I’d surprise you while I was here.”

“Where ya headed? W-We can drop you off on the way.”

“I’m going back that way, opposite direction.”

“What way?”

“That way.” You motioned vaguely.

“Let’s go, EP. Truck’s already rollin.”

“You should go.”

“W-Will you come with us?”

“Baby, I already said~”

“Please? You don’t know where you’re headed anyway, what’s the difference?”

“They’re going to leave without you.”

“Get in the truck.”

For some reason you hesitated and you found yourself rushing to respond. “I-I really can’t.”

“Why?”

They blew the horn and he got this anxious expression on his face that made you feel bad. “I can’t just leave you standing here~”

“Let’s play a game,” You said, opening your purse and rummaging around for a moment. “Take…uhm, take this, okay?”

“Why?” He asked, letting you put the silver compact mirror in his palm.

“So you can give it back when I see you next time.”

Another exasperated blow from the car horn.

“Kiss me.” You stood up on your tiptoes expectantly and waited for his lips to touch yours before pushing him away. “Go. Be careful.”

“Me be careful?” He wondered as he skipped a few steps toward the truck. “You be careful.”

“Elvis!” You called just as he climbed into the truck and shut the door. You laughed when you saw him sticking his head out the window.

“What?” He called as the truck started rolling.

“I love you!”

“What?”

“I love—“ You motioned to your heart and then to him. “—you!”

You couldn’t make out his expression as the truck picked up speed and made its way down the road. You watched until the vehicle was out of sight, suddenly feeling the emptiness of the night as you stood there alone.

“He’s in a bad way…there’s no telling how long he’ll be over there.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

You rummaged through your purse in search of any change, collecting the loose dimes from the bottom of the handbag.

“I’m only telling you ‘cause he’s been here every night since he found out. I been boarding up windows and blocking off doors~”

“I’m waiting for this to turn into my problem, BB.”

“This is your problem, this is solely your problem.”

“I don’t even know when I’ll be in Memphis again.”

“Can’t you get one of your men to bring you down here? How much they be paying Ron anyway?”

“It’s not about the money~”

“However much it is, I’ll pay him back if you can get here ‘fore he ships out.”

You laughed. “What is it about that man that makes you do whatever he says?”

“I could ask you the same damn thing. I’m tryna get a problem off my hands.”

“So am I.”

“Nobody put you in the position you’re in.”

“…I don’t know if I can be in Memphis before next week. It’s too short notice.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Ron’s sick of hearing about him and he’s starting to take it out on me. Things were good before, I don’t need all this.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have told him you loved him and you’d see him again.”

“I didn’t think I would, that’s why I said it. I was just trying to make his night.”

“You made it alright.”

“…I’m on my last dime, baby.” You turned the silver over in your palm before dropping it into the pay phone.

“I know you can be here, you can be anywhere.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Come by the club, have a drink with the man. Do all your little tricks and disappear like always.”

“I’ll see, okay? Don’t be mad at me…I can’t handle you being mad at me.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.”

#elvis presley #black reader #elvis x black reader #elvis x you #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis fluff #elvis fanfiction #austin!elvis x reader

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