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precious-little-scoundrel · 7 months

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Summary: A Snapshot of Elvis and Elaine, newly married, hardly satiated, very in love

Warnings: 18+ entirely made up of fluff and smut and fluffy smut, sorry to the sweet ask -this got a bit off track. We don’t have them going at it like bunnies herein so much as alluding to that having been happening and determined to continue. What we do have is a lotta smutty thoughts, breeding kink, innocence kink, oral sex fem receiving, unkosher usage of baby oil, the very beginning of penetrative sex, some begging and dirty talk…most importantly we’ve got a bit of body consciousness, Elaine is slightly embarrassed by her new stretch marks and her pretty husband sets out to show her they’re incredibly cool

Word count: 5k

Hope you enjoy sweet anon, so sorry your original ask got eaten by tumblr, I hope this notification finds you!

Elaine had taken to water calisthenics classes at the Elders Club in Killeen Texas out of sheer need to move without dying of heatstroke. Swelling each day into a fluffy little matron, Elaine made house for Elvis on base one month after the next as May and then June and then July ticked on by in a sweltering dust cloud. And, whenever she wouldn’t be missed, the new Mrs Presley dashed to the pool and swam with the grandmas.

It drew a bit of a crowd, this swimming of hers, and Elvis, sympathetic and prouder than anything, took it upon himself to order from the catalogs the very best and loveliest and most advantageous swimsuits to accommodate his wife’s growing belly and plush breasts to their best advantage. He also threatened crushed jugulars and broken spines if any of his army buddies so much as drove by the dinky place for a peek at his ripe little woman.

Truth be told the larger she grew, the more evident her condition, the fruit of his loins obvious to the world, the more Elvis’ excitement for her grew. If breaking her innocence had proven more tantalizing in theory than practice and if her submission had been a versatile thing he found himself often teetering under the sway of, this, her ripening form, was one fantasy that matched his dreams.

In the early morning her plush body wrapped beside his was the only thing dragging him out of bed for basic and to watch her clip clop about in heels and a ever stretched apron while serving him breakfast was a sorta dream state of things he hadn’t dared hope would be as perfect as it was in reality. All that sickly pallor and nausea of the early months had vanished in its place he had a freckle-nosed bride shimmying into dresses increasingly too fitted. Zippers groaned and buttons popped in their little house on base and Elvis gloried in it, sat on the edge of his bed and watched her dressing struggles with splayed thighs and appreciative groans. He reveled in putting his hands on her to aid her and glutted at what he’d done to her fresh little self. He liked to tease her to “suck in” when her bust no longer fit in her old dresses.

“You’re carryin’ my whole world” he told her time and again, whispering it into her ear and squeezing her tight. He sang to his babies and they quited, he read to them from the Gospels and they kicked: “just like the John the Baptist” and in the latter months when he’d teasingly mimic a babe's cry when snuggling his wife, her breasts would begin to leak.

And now the swimsuits. Graduating up one size after another in these later months, Laney had packed on a bit of tush along with her belly and tits and the sway of it, atop long stems sat upon pretty footsies in heeled sandals, drove Elvis and half his army mates wild. See, after awhile, the secret was out and the other army wives came to swim, too. And their husbands became over eager to pick them up after class.

Threats be damned. Elaine Presley was sweet and pretty and often made chit chat with their wives and babies, towel slung uselessly over her shoulders and pool droplets running from her clavicle to the never-never-land of her bosoms when she bent to kiss a child or two goodbye. Just lanky enough to require a bend, that lady, and just affectionate enough to not content herself with head pats.

Dodger observed these things and pondered them but kept her mouth shut, sat like a disapproving crow under a umbrella and sipping gin and tonics after Elaine had insisted they wouldn’t kill her. Elaine liked to press the cold glasses to her throat when playing Bingo on the patio chairs. Eileen Macdermot went home, scandalized, one day at the way the girl splayed her legs over the side of the lounger, like a primitive or else - a man.

These things filling her days and bothering neither of the newlyweds much, if at all, Elvis had come home one evening to the smell of pork chops and gravy and no Laney in his kitchen. Their house was tiny with few rooms and after inspecting the empty single bedroom he proceeded into their bathroom and found her there, stripping out of her sodden swimsuit.

It was black, with lemons on it and white polka dots intermingled and it paired so well with her tanned skin and white headband that Elvis groaned aloud at the sight and spooked his wife who didn’t suspect him home.

“Lord, Elvis-“ She clutched her chest and heaved in a breath, smile breaking out as soon as her shock calmed, “-you’re home early.”

He wrapped a hand around the doorframe and practically lounged against it as much a person could lounge while standing, while vertical, stupid, giddy grin in place. She was halfway through stripping and there was something so very domestic, jarringly normal and almost raw about seeing his swim pink wife in a modest chipped tile bathroom of a single bedroom house, swollen and barefoot. Just one more regular American housewife among many in a tidy row of white picket fenced army accommodations.

Playing house, it was moments like these when it hit him just real enough to taste a dream and chew it and swallow it down till it fizzled out his fingers and mouth in a hunger fueled by gratitude. This wasn’t gonna last forever, not the normality of basic training or the ruthless hours of not belonging to himself, this too would pass he told himself when it got awful. But so would these precious days of just the two of them, Laney alone to putter around their house and think only of him and he to come home to her with only her on his mind and in his arms.

“Elvis?” she prodded again when he barely managed more than a soothing, faraway humm of greeting when she calmed.

“Yes Mrs. Presley?” he asked, doorframe digging into his cheek, wondering when she was going to drop the lovely sweetheart neckline she was clutching to those creamy tits that heaved under his stare like she didn’t endure such admirations regularly.

“A-are you going to-“ she was oddly hesitant, his pretty wife tonight, she’d been a bit voracious recently as the health came back to her but maybe it was just the fright.

“Am I gonna what, babydoll?” he asked softly, eyes flicking up to meet hers and he saw a little panic brewing in their warm depths. “Why, what’s this, huh? Caught ya at something?” he teased her, genuinely unsure of what was amiss and why she still clutched the soggy suit to her goose pimpled skin. “You’re gonna get cold, shuggums.” he straightened up and moved towards her, army boots mashing down the pretty green pile of the bathroom rug.

She stepped back reflexively before catching herself and giving a forced little laugh and shrug, a shrug that was very hampered in it’s carefree intentions with the way her arms crisscrossed over her chest. Perhaps he’d been too eager for her lately, he thought with self chastising consternation, perhaps she was flighty from soreness or neglect of more cerebral pursuits or maybe it was bad news from home.

“Is everything alright?” he finally asked, grave and soft spoken.

“Oh yes I was just-“ she mumbled, gesturing to the pink marbled countertop and its bottle of baby oil and pearlescent nail polish “-about to moisturize. The pool, the chlorine it…I’ve become itchy lately after going in. Doctor said it was normal, stretching and such but-“ she raised her eyes to his and they looked so young without the coal lining of cosmetics, sometimes he forgot his Tink wasn’t an ancient love goddess, just a sweet and unsure teenage girl. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

It didn’t make sense why her tone would be apologetic about that. He was early and she was industrious, dinner already baking and even if she hadn’t -they’d been making such ravenous love of late that often they ate charred remains of her carefully made meals or else opted for burgers at the joint in town. There’d been no apologies then; why now?

“C’mere babeh, lemme help.” he drawled and before she knew it he’d slinked across to her and laid his warm hand on her chilled shoulders.

Such lovely, large hands, they spanned her shoulders and a clavicle each, thumbs meeting like a little talisman adornment at the hollow of her throat. Seconds before he even did it she could predict the soothing swipe of his thumbs there, and so he did, and like clockwork she found herself taking in a larger breath, one that expanded her chest and made her clutched swimsuit a little obviously absurd. She used the breath he’d given her to let out a sigh of defeat.

“I’ve been growing.” she admitted rather resignedly and at this admittance Elvis had to check himself from nodding in furious, appreciative agreement, there was invisibly some catch here and in his own enjoyment of her ‘state’ he tried his damndest to recall it must be uncomfortable at best, growing and stretching and creating life inside one’s guts. Hell he wanted to die sometimes from too many sandwiches, how much fuller she must feel, about ready to burst with kids.

So he restrained his enthusiasm and nodded encouragingly. “Mhmm.”

“All perfectly normal, doctor says it is and others too, all the others say so. Nothing out of the ordinary and I was expecting it. Yet still, it’s quite-“ Elaine trailed off on this long prelude and Elvis held his breath lest his concern leach into impatience.

“Buuuuut?”

“But it doesn’t lessen that it’s quite ugly.” Once decided upon a course she finished up quite tidily but Elvis found himself further confused.

“What is, baby?” he asked, bewildered. “What’s ugly?”

“This.” she gestured resignedly at her belly and scratched the clinging nylon, her skin irritated from the pool.

“Don’t, stop that.” he chided softly, knowing it would make it worse and caught her waists in his hands, swaying them between them gently. “I don’t know what you’re on about but let’s get oil on there so you ain’t so prickly.” he suggested and let go of her hands, dropping them gently before raising his hands to her shoulders again and sensuously trailing his fingertips over the swell of her breasts till he met lemons and polka dots, and peeled the material down away ever so gently. “How’d you plan on hidin’ from me?” he asked her as the pert darlings came into view with the enlarged areolas and lengthening nipples.

“I wasn’t planning!” Elaine protested, biting her lip as he tugged further “It just- it showed up out of nowhere and it’s-“

He’d managed to peel the thing over half her ponderous belly, uncovering her belly button, when he caught sight of something entirely new. Red with a tinge of silver, a split, a crack, a bolt, scarred across her navel, running up and down -straight as a proper zig zag.

“Well. Goddamn.” he breathed, sitting back on his heels to take it in. His hand shook a little as he laid his palm on the stretch mark, an awed expression on his face as it was nearly the length of his whole hand. “Why, goddamn Tink,” he repeated, marveling, “you’ve got yourself an honest to God lightnin’ bolt on yous.”

Like her belly were heaven and in the paying of her dues for such a miracle as two lives with one body, it had been rent like a sheet. His stomach churned, something a little worshipful filling him. He took his hand away, marveling at the perfect design.

A lightning bolt. That’s not at all what Elaine expected from him, some kindness and maybe even relieving indifference, she anticipated that despite her embarrassment, but awe wasn’t on the cards. “I guess it rather does look like…that.”

“Looks like Shazam done paid you a visit, lil mama.” he nodded enthusiastically and Elaine laughed before she could help herself, thinking it funny her naked state was suddenly a costume in his mind. “Don’t you see it?” he crunched down to his knees and took her still suit clad hips in his hands and turned her towards the mirror.

“I-I suppose it bears some resemblance.” she muttered with distaste at the sight of it only more angry and prominent since the pool. “It’s a horrid color, looks like an scar already-“

“-oh hush up it’s amazing.” Elvis swatted her backside with his hand and she yelped, the jangle of his watch chain familiar as was his grinning face at belly level. “You’re mama’s all down on herself,” he loudly whispered to the babies inside her house, “don’t appreciate the fact she’s lookin’ like an gen-u-ine superhero. I know how to solve that.” he muttered darkly and Elaine felt him gather her hands again and he placed one in the counter for stability before he yanked the rest of her wet costume off, letting it pool round her ankles and helping her disentangle it.

“What are you going to do?” she asked with some trepidation as she stood fully naked before his keeling, uniformed, booted figure.

“Gonna convince ya.” he stated sure of himself before reaching for her nail polish, the pearlescent, silver shimmer of it drawing his eye like a magpie. “Gold would suit better, but between you’n’me doll, we’ll assume it’s platinum.” he murmured conspiratorially before giving her a solemn wink and unscrewing the cap.

Before she could worry for his trousers, he didn’t carry her foot to his knee and paint her toes. No. Instead he brought the tiny brush and its icy paint to her belly and began to swipe it along the design of her recent marring. Elaine gasped at the chill and in shock of his ingenuity, the tongue bitten concentration on his pretty face and the way his free hand splayed on her skin like an artist’s beside its canvas, anchoring his work.

Tink was yet a new little thing, barely broken into the art of the marriage bed and now accommodating his children, her bred little body hadn’t yet widened in all the ways it would eventually come labor. Her hips were beginning to comically expand whereas her waist in the back remained tapered and gave her a nearly illustrated quality to her proportions, that Elvis had begun to obsess over watching in the mirror when he was taking her.

Everything about her was ripe and taut and now this. He found his eyes going glossy and he tried to finish his painting in a tidy manner, his groin pusing distractingly beneath the material of his slacks as he worked lower, catching a whiff of her own interest in those soft curls.

He could almost taste her by memory.

He pulled away and surveyed his work, immensely pleased with the glistening silver lightning bolt stamped across his children's abode.

“It’ll smear with the oil.” was all she said, soft, distant.

“Then we’ll have to let it dry.” he decided, letting his fingers trace up the backs of her shapely thighs, appreciating soft flesh and toned ridges. He gave it some thought before he pursed his lips and blew. His cold breath blasted against the freezing polish and Elaine felt herself start, a gush of arousal puddling between her lips, almost burning at her entrance as she tried to clench it shut, keep some demureness in the face of it all. She thought she’d caught him sniffing, it wouldn’t do to have her legs a running mess with her need.

But the chilled ghosting of his breaths, the tantalizing burn of his fingertips’ trail- they made her throb and Elaine let out a helpless little moan, shifting on the pink rug in restless wanting.

“What’s that, baby honey?” he asked softly, looking up at her equal parts eager and questioning. “Makin’ you feel funny?”

“It’s the oddest sensation.” she shivered.

“What’s it make you want?”

“You.”

“Which’aways?”

“All of the ways.” she giggled bashully and stared at her swollen reflection and his at faucet level in the mirror, kneeling still. She chose to put her foot on the counter top, opposite hand balancing against the wall, “Elvis, won’t you lick me, please?” she asked.

“Since you ask so nicely.” he whispered, “And since you hold the power of a million universes.” he gestured to her belly once more before ducking his head running his nose along the seam of her slit, nudging her nosing like a puppy.

He hadn’t even kissed her mouth in greeting. He regretted that before opening his poofy lips and beginning to caress her pretty pink labia like he was smooching a lover. A gush let out against his chin, she must’ve been keeping that to herself for some time, there was too much of it. As was the pained moan that followed as her cunt clenched around nothing at his expert manipulations and teases. He opened his jaw and gathered as much of her in as he could before closing his mouth and sucking, amused at the sounds of shock she made as he swirled her, guarding her from his teeth, just his tongue and lips and the hot inferno of his mouth turning her to puddy.

He reached into his pants pocket and adjusted himself, and finding the need to touch too strong to ignore, he kept his hand there and jostled his stick and balls like a boy, moaning further into the taste of her as she came down from her high. She tasted different since pregnancy, and of late, was wet at whim. Elaine was as puzzled and shocked by the changes in her own body as he was, and it gave Elvis immense satisfaction to further surprise her with what he could draw from it. It drove him mad, this shock of hers, and he flattened his tongue and gave her a few parting, broad strokes to collect his winnings as she shoved at his shoulders in helpless, sensitive distress, yelping and shuttering and her propped leg kicking the bottle of oil over and off the counter.

He caught it before it hit the ground without even pulling his face from her muff. Elaine giggled again at his skill before whining at his repeated attempts to slurp at her sensitivity.

“You still gots an itch, lil mama?” he asked her, finally pulling away and looking up at her from under the dome of her belly, his hands planted on hips and his face aglow with her pleasure.

“I do.” she whined breathily, slumping against the wall.

He neared her again with his face and she questioned his motive the whole way until he stuck out his tongue and tried the nail polish on her belly. “S’dried.” he informed her as if he hadn’t just done a stupid thing and then with a decisive nod of his head, swiftly rose back to his full height and presented his hand to her.

“You come with me now, and I’ll tend to it.” he said and, meek as a lamb, Elaine put her little hand into his sticky one and he tugged her into the bedroom, oil bottle in hand. “If we’d been bad, mamas, if we’d been real naughty like, if I’d been a lil less good to ya, we’d be a couple of young folks new married and you swellin’ and barely a pan on the stove or a mattress on much else but floor. We wouldn’t be playin’ house in this lil shack, we’d be livin’ it and barely makin’ it.” he explained to her and Elaine was confused by his meaning, his analogy too, and where this was coming from, but pliant and tripping over her own feet from post orgasmic clumsiness, she chose not to question it, assumed it was play acting of sorts as he led her to the foot of their bed and sat himself down on the floor, still holding her hand. “But even then, Laney baby,” he glowed up at her with a bright, crooked grin on his slick face, “even if we was poor as dirt, I’d invest in a mirror so I could watch that tight lil snatch under your pretty belly swallowing me down like it’s got hunger pains.”

Elaine whirled around and stared at the mirror opposite the bed, positioned lovingly in the tiny space of a walkway where she might view the effect of her outfits and he might straighten his uniform, but perhaps more intentionally, it was placed opposite the bed where Elvis managed to configure them most times in some manner and at some point in their lovemaking so that they were near the foot of the bed and he might watch. Recently Elaine had come to enjoy the nearly lewd prospect of her growing body being gripped and kneaded and caressed, the unarguable beauty of it in the reflected image convincing her of prettiness she herself did not always feel.

The act, him, her responses to them both -they were all still new to her and now this, this pregnancy and the surprise of a million unexpected things.

Surveying themselves in the mirror she thought he looked a bit more debauched than herself, fully dressed though he was. He sat on the floor like a drunk, pussy dazed and loose, legs splayed and collar wet, pit stains prominent and swollen outline bulging in his pants. In his dishevelment he looked worse news than her wholesome nakedness and she licked her lips at the thought that it wasn’t at all wrong to indulge in such a dangerous fella. He belonged to her, and she to him.

“Did you ever think about it, Elvis?” she asked eagerly, her face aflame.

“Think of what, darlin?” he murmured, lazily undoing his fly and pulling himself out, pumping his fat pink member with an elegant pump of his wrist, ogling her appreciatively like she was a poster looming above him and not a living woman stepped between his thighs.

It made her drip. Elaine could feel the slick down to her knee, a stray dribble escaping her curls. Since marrying, since rubbing shoulders with other married women and being allowed into the gossipy little circles on base, she had begun to grow an inkling of awareness that her case was rather special. It was true, all couples made love, most couples had children, and plenty of couples were in love. But there were extracurriculars, such as she had been led to believe quite common in her own marriage, that were rarely mentioned by others, and if so, done with scandalized and hurried admittance. Elaine had begun to notice that while plenty of men liked their wives, wanted their wives even, there was a peculiar singleness of focus to her husband‘s interest in her that was not matched by others. Why, she’d even become aware of men’s magazines and the reasons for their existence, and yet never had seen one in her husband‘s possession, although she had awoke plenty of times to the sight of him pleasuring himself over her sleeping form, or as he was now, unabashedly admiring his view. She was in essence, both fantasy and form for him.

It was enough to make any woman proud and wet.

“Think of what?” he repeated with a laugh and an edge to his voice, looking up at her under an arch brow.

Elaine snapped out of her daydream and stepped up to him, enjoying the way his hands cupped the back of her knees, a little tickle, his head leaned back against the mattress. “Did you ever think to -think of…taking me sooner?” she asked, carding her fingers through his hair. “Ruining me early?” she smiled at the thought, at how clueless and helpless she’d have been if one of those nights on the den floor at Graceland during their short engagement, if one of those times he had rolled atop her - her sleeping father be damned - and had his way. It wasn’t his style but she wondered, what with the way Elvis could barely make it to the wedding, now that she knew what she knew, she wondered. In another world, would she have been a plundered little thing and he a dutiful young bachelor with a set of twins in need of a baptism to cover their conception?

“Thought of it every goddamn night.” he admitted earnestly, “Ruined a couple dozen pants over it.”

“No!”

“Mhmm.”

“Heavens. But never- you never-“

“-not while I was with ya. Bad as I wanted it.” he tisked, “I done told ya, you’re special baby. I was savin’ ya, couldn’t have brought myself to it, had plans for ya.”

Those plans of his were kicking and rolling in her belly as her heart rate sped up with the gentle trailing of his fingers over her thighs and the sight of his bobbing cock, jutting out from his uniform pants.

“I see.” Elaine simpered and pressed her palms to his own, swaying over him before he tugged her down, doing a pretty, clumsy little split over his lap. He groaned at the contact and the sight of her bare backside in the mirror.

“I missed ya today, Mrs. Presley.” he informed her as always and Elaine was grinning when he slotted his mouth against hers in a long overdue lover’s greeting.

Elaine blithely allowed him his smooching way across her throat and the swell of her decollage as she set to undoing his tie with loving firmness, and then stripping the pungent material of his worn shirt off his shoulders and at last tugging his trousers further down which broke his kisses contact and caused much protest. She stayed firm however, insisting that painting her belly with polish was one thing, but if he thought she was going to risk baby oil stains on that uniform, he had another thing coming.

“Your supposition bein’ that I’ll be in some position for stainin’!” he protested as if she were the one with all the wiles and meddlesome ideas.

“What plans did you have for it?” She asked dryly, crouched at his feet and yanking his boots off with much eagerness and little finesse.

“I intended to slather it on my wife.”

“Funny how what’s slathered on me always ends up slathered on you.” she pondered with a pretentious finger to her lips before she was tugged back atop his now bare lap, and spun so that she could lean against his chest.

“S’not always slathered.” he rebuts in a low tone, his voice gone intimate at the new position and their bare cuddling. Elvis hooked his chin over her shoulder and petted the lightening bolt gleaming so well in the mirror, the late summer’s sun beaming through the slanted blinds. He should close them before he did what he intended, before they got nekid in the first place, but if they were just any ole new couple there’d be no need with being off the road and the blinds partially drawn.

He squeezed her harder and reached for the oil. “S’not always slathered, sometimes I manage to get it real nice’n’deep, don’t I?”

Elaine sucked in a shaky breath as she felt him shift beneath her in his reach, the hot, eager firmness of him cradled under her cunt lips. She felt their privates begin to pulse in unison.

“Don’t I?” he asked her, one oily hand splayed low on her belly and the other gripping her jaw.

“Yes.” Elaine moaned, her head lolling back against his shoulder so she might keep his gaze.

His hand began to move again.

Slathering.

“Hmm?”

“Yes, daddy.” she whispered, and saw him smirk in satisfaction.

Witchcraft, it was, the way his hand could go through all the same motions as before but like a switch flipped, his own intent could bleed into his touch and suddenly he had gone from tending her stretched skin to driving her mad, oil and warmth spreading all over her, her breasts shining, her shoulders shining, her thighs aglow and golden.

Shining, all of her.

Elvis hooked his hands under her knees and spread her legs, bent and wide, feet settled far apart on either side of his own thighs. She could see little Elvis twitching futilely against his thigh, glossy, shiny, leaking oil himself. She cupped them both and did some slathering herself, wiping his arousal up her slit, rubbing his head and her puffy bud with her fingertips, the both of them moaning and whimpering in unison at the tease.

“Baby, baby let’s…let’s…” he was saying urgently and she pulled her hand away at his direction, allowing him to bring the bottle between their legs.

She felt that patter of drops against her clit and the silky run of it down to his cock. She ached, back arched and hips grinding against him like she could start a fire with the friction if she moved insistently enough.

“I-I-I want it!” she begged, overcome and her neck straining as she tilted her face to the ceiling. Waterstains patterned the white paint and she squeezed her eyes shut in a exstastic grimace as she felt him pull at his cock and tap it, all oily slapping, at her spread petals. “Elvis, please, please put it in.”

“Mm, m’not sure you’re slick enough.” he disagreed slyly, rubbing his glans against her fiery little hole as her legs kicked out in frustration. She knew he was staring in the mirror at his handiwork without even having to glance there herself. She squinted harder and aimed a thrust downwards, catching him. It was bend or enter. She had him, it took great willpower to hide her smirk as his breath gusted against her cheek.

“My baby still got an itch?” he asked softly, his large hand cupping their joining, just the tip of him snug and cozy inside her swollen channel.

“Yeah.”

“Where?” Elvis rumbled in her ear.

She took his shiny hand and spread it low on the lightening bolt, “Here, real deep.” Elaine whispered, “Right hyer.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. Xoxo 💋

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121 notes · View notes

elvisabutler · 1 year

Note

#15 Fluff prompt with army! Elvis where you know he’s been seeing other girls and you just met him but he actually really adores you/makes time for you. Kinda took inspiration from the Anita phone call where he’s nagging her about calling, this is different, he wants her to visit and call.

called ya, didn't i?

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t for some implications but again pretty tame pairing: elvis presley x female plus sized reader word count: 1249 warnings: mentions of elvis and his ladies' man ways. mentions of the reader deciding men are trash. minor insecurity on the reader's part, nothing too woe is me, more practical than anything else. reader is of age ( i mention her daddy so it needs to be said. ). author’s note: thank you for this anon! this was adorable and after the- smut army elvis prompt i got i discovered he's actually quite fun to write. hope you enjoy this! this is done for my 1k gala, based on fluff line “just call me whenever you like.” y'all know the drill, real elvis or austin elvis works fine for this despite the moodboard.

If there's one thing, and one thing only that your parents have taught you, it's not to be stupid around boys. It's to know that most boys are stupid and don't have your best interests at heart, instead they have their own interests at heart and are slaves to their own desires. Army boys- be it the ones you've grown up with on bases in various places or the ones who've been shipped off to fight in wars or to just be a peacekeeping force- are ten times worse. Something about the fact that they know they can be shipped away at any time makes them practically caustic with other people's feelings and hearts. No, you know better than to fall for an army boy.

Or at least, perhaps you you did. You thought you knew better and then Elvis Presley came strolling into your life and you- oh, you feel that God has to be mocking you. He has to be mocking you because there's no way Elvis Presley would show interest in you. You're confident enough in your figure, it errs a little too much in the rotund direction for some but you like it just fine. Figure that whoever you want to be with would do the same, tell you how much they enjoy the plushness of your stomach and of your various parts. You know the type Elvis goes for, however, and you- oh you- are most definitely not it.

Yet, here was Elvis sending you letters and finding out your phone number from other people because you're so charming every time he talks to you. He never gets to talk for long, someone always pulling him every which way but it's fine, you think. It's fine because he's got all those other girls, the nice refined girls who look good in the papers and even the ones that just look good, even if no one but you and half the base know about them. No, it's better this way, better that you don't call him and you just leave him be to the other girls. Leave him to charm them like he kind of charmed you.

Except Elvis keeps making time for you. He keeps pushing aside whatever girl he has on his arm at any given function to come and say hello to you. It's not unwelcome but it's strange, it's strange to see Elvis Presley making time for you. It's even stranger still that one night he asks you on a date. A date your mind tells you that you should accept, you shouldn't accept because he's going to inevitably toss you aside like you just watched him toss the other girls aside. It's a date you do accept though, one that's filled with dancing a little silly till the slow songs start and he's twirling you as if it's the most natural thing in the world. It's a date filled with so much joy you almost forget it has to end until Elvis is on your doorstep placing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"Gonna let me take ya out tomorrow night?" He murmurs, his hands against you cheeks, his thumbs rubbing them slightly. "Please, darlin'."

You agree and your life becomes a whirlwind of dates and phone calls and Elvis getting sent to Paris where you know he's got another girl so you don't call. You don't call for over a week until Elvis calls first. Your instinct is to remain sweet and charming because even if he's got another girl probably in the next room over but you can't help the way you pout just a little.

"Why are you calling me? Don't you have a pretty French girl to kiss and spend your time with?" The hurt seeps into your tone despite everything. You knew better and yet- yet you thought maybe this was different. "I didn't call you for a reason, 'Vis."

There's a silence on the other end of the phone call before you hear a muffled curse before he groans. "Baby, I ain't got any French gal. I got you, but no French gal looking to be mine." He pauses. "Ya really think I ain't- Baby I'm mad as hell ya ain't here wit' me. Why would I- That's why ya haven't been callin' me? Ya think I got someone else?"

It's your turn to be quiet on your end of the line as you listen to his breathing and hear a slight huff of a laugh leave him before you answer. "Well what am I supposed to think? I know how you are and how girls are and how I'm cute and pretty but not your-"

He cuts you off. "Not what I go for? Darlin'- now I want ya t'listen. I jus' call me whenever ya like. I wanna hear ya voice, wanna hear 'bout ya day. Wanna get to know ya real well. Thought I made that pretty clear 'fore we went to Paris but I'm guessin' I didn't now."

"Oh Elvis." Those are the only two words that cross your mind at the admission and you're struck by a faint rush of embarrasment that you had read the situation so wrong, that you had allowed your judgment to be a little clouded when it came to him just because he was Elvis and just because he was a boy in the Army. It makes your heart twist a little before you finally gain up the courage to speak again. "You really mean it? You aren't teasing, are you? I know you do that too and I don't think I could handle you doing that to me. It'd be real mean."

"Baby. My mama'd- God rest her soul- she'd ask God to smite me if I lied about this. No lyin' I want to get to know ya better 'fore my tour's over. 'Fore they send me back home. If I get to know ya and we like- we enjoy each other more, ya can come home wit' me. Already want ya to visit me more often. Wanna see ya. Hear ya."

A laugh leaves you, a soft little thing that Elvis thinks is something a little bird might sing before you speak. "I- Okay. Alright. I'll- I'll call tomorrow night, how about that? Because I got to sleep, Elvis. And we'll talk and I'll see if my daddy can help me see you."

You can hear the relief and the smile in Elvis's voice when he answers you. "You better. And- I know you're a good girl, I do, but I wanna kiss ya on the lips sometime soon. Can we-"

"Maybe. Play- Play your cards right, Elvis. I'm not so easily swayed you know." You answer is a little cheeky and earns a loud bellowing laugh from him in response.

"Best answer I'll get from ya. Alright." He pauses and hears someone yelling for him before he curses yet again. "Listen. You 'member. Tomorrow night. Gonna be right by the phone waitin' for ya."

He has to hang up before he gets confirmation from you. But the phone call he gets the next night and the night after that and the one after that might just be enough of one. Enough of one to take you on another date when he sees you and one that ends with a proper kiss. And perhaps it's just maybe enough of a confirmation to talk about taking you back to Memphis with him.

#elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x plus sized reader #austin butler elvis #austin elvis #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley fanfiction #ally's 1k gala #ally writes

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memphisflash · 2 months

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Saw this browsing the web today. What do you make of this?

https://www.express.co.uk/entertainment/music/1458274/elvis-presley-girlfriend-german-army-memphis-mafia

first, a little piece of advice for you, anon: don't browse the web if you want to learn about elvis and his life. pick up a book and do proper research, because news outlets love to twist stories into a negative light.

margit was a girl that was set up to meet elvis by photographer robert lebeck, who worked for Stern magazine who was on an assignment to meet elvis and take pictures of him. even though the meeting was set up for publicity, they dated for a little bit but it was all innocent. there was a language barrier between them and according to margit herself all they did was listen to music, make music/sing and talk (margit using her little translating dictionary).

as far as the "grind city" comment, it's obviously slang for there being a lot of pretty girls in germany. the man was at the height of his career, he got a lot of attention, and naturally he didn't turn a blind eye.

here's an example why you can't trust the media, not even in the 50s:

picture was taken on their first meeting (when margit was brought over to ritters park hotel by robert). they weren't dating yet, but the cover makes it seem as if they're completely serious about each other - peek the questions on the left. and this is to get people to buy the magazines and to make money and i understand that. it's the same now with social media and whatnot- articles need clicks. journalists need money.

my point is that if you want to learn about elvis, do your proper research. pick up a book. talk to other fans. but don't read news articles you find on google, because they almost always have a lot of faults and misinformation in them.

#even with books its important to view things with a neutral point of view #everyones memory is different and some books are a load of shit too #but it's better to do research and compare stories and really put your time in it than to google stuff #tam answers.#elvis #elvis presley

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goldendiie · 10 months

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I adore all your sargemore content, so here's some questions! (Feel free to pick and choose these as you please.)

Out of the two of them, who is more likely to borrow clothes from the other?

Which of them likes cooking and/or baking? (or, alternately, who is less likely to burn down the kitchen doing it lol)

Do they prefer tea or coffee? How do they like their tea/coffee?

Aside from each other, which of the Radiator Springs residents do you think they get along with best and/or consider their very close friend(s)?

If they were to get a pet, what would they get?

Do they have a favorite movie they like to watch together?

hi anon! guess what-- you're getting answers to all of these.

They're both certainly prone to stealing each others' clothes. Fillmore doesn't really own anything nice, so anytime he needs to look presentable, he raids Sarge's closet. Sarge, on the other hand, is no stranger to stealing Fillmore's clothes when he spends the night. He always claims that he "forgot" his own pajamas, but Fillmore knows that it's just a poor excuse to borrow a t-shirt and some sweatpants.

I think that Sarge is more of a cooking guy, while Fillmore is a baking guy (lol). It's well established on this blog that Sarge comes from a very sturdy, corn-fed upbringing in the midwest; this means that he can grill just about anything, and he can make the best potato salad on this side of the Mississippi. Fillmore is more content to simply bake some brownies and call it a day. If they had been more "out" to the town, they'd probably rival Flo and Ramone's hosting skills.

Sarge is a "one black coffee" guy. Fillmore can go both ways; but, usually, it's coffee in the morning and tea in the evening.

Fillmore gets along really well with Ramone (which, might I remind you, his VA is Cheech Marin. Perhaps, in an alternate universe, Fillmore was played by Tommy Chong). They like to smoke together and talk about music. When stoned together, they're very prone to friendly pranks. I bet they kissed like once, just because they thought it'd be funny. They have a lot of laughs. Sarge, ever the straight edge, prefers to hang around the likes of Doc and Sheriff. It's actually canon that he and Sheriff are old army buddies-- they were in the Military Police together! Mostly, they just reminisce about their old army days, and keep an ever watchful (and, sometimes judgmental-- they strike me as a pair that loves to gossip) eye on the community.

They're dog people! In another life, where they get married or whatever, they have two german shepards named Gunner and Floyd.

They love a good, trashy western. They watch John Wayne movies together, when they decide to be cooperative. Otherwise, they compromise. Sarge likes those stuffy historical films (along the lines of Hunt for Red October. He also quite enjoyed Elvis, but he'll never admit to that.), and Fillmore gets a kick out of stuff more artsy, critical stuff (such as literally Wes Anderson movie-- yes, he dragged Sarge to see Asteroid City. They both loved it).

#sargemore #headcanons #i'm tagging this. guys send me sargemore asks!!!!!

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loving-elvis · 2 years

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"I never did anything lasting" line saddens me so much (this is what real Elvis told to one of his backup singers in late 70s). All his hard work are no longer a sense of pride for him, but a waste. Complete disenchantment and disillusionment with his achievements because he was in such a dark place mentally. Incredibly sad.

It is terribly, depressingly sad, Anon.

He was concerned about how he'd be remembered (as anyone in that position would be, I think), if he would be at all. The music industry following his return from the army had changed, and that change would continue while he was making movies and into the 70s, and for the first time, he wasn't at the forefront of that change.

He was trying to find where he belonged, I think, and he began questioning his place in the grand scheme of things. You're right about that - he did all this work and sold all those records, and...what did he have to show for it?

What was it all for? What did he work so hard and tour so long for? What did his mother die for? What did he lose his wife and daughter for? Would anyone even remember him or anything he had done?

It's tragic that he passed away thinking that. I wish so badly that he could know how much he's loved, how he changed the game for everyone who came after him; That he wasn't a joke or a punchline for late-night comedians. How more than 60 years after he first appeared on the scene there's a movie about his life and people discovering and appreciating his music again

#I think he would be so flattered #But it is terribly sad to think that was his mindset at the time #Elvis Presley #Ask box #Replies #Anonymous

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naneun-no · 11 months

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💭 Thoughts on Seven - song and MV

Are you looking for someone to react to this with you? Are you wanting to hear someone else’s thoughts so you can organize your own? Here you go! This is gonna be a long one but I have thoughts to share! I’ve broken them down into categories…

The Song

Lo and behold, the horny anons were (a little bit) right! This song is definitely about sex! Lol.

I’m gonna need a few more listens to really solidify my opinion, but first few listen throughs and… I like it! It’s fast, its a little chaotic, but it’s still so melodic and pleasing to listen to, courtesy of Jung Kook’s impeccable vocals, as usual. It’s a lot more explicit than I was expecting, lmao, but we’ve been saying for a while that he’s a grown ass man. No serious person was out here thinking he doesn’t fuck. Is the song somewhat aspirational for him with the “every minute every hour” thing, considering he spends at least 2 hours at a time in the middle of the night making noodles with ARMY? Perhaps. But hey, most of us alosexuals can only dream of getting lucky seven days a week, so I don’t blame him for manifesting that energy. Also, he didn’t write it. So there’s that.

Concept & Video

My condolences to the horny anons for the lack of steamy, sexy scenes in the video (the scenes that the rest of us knew wouldn’t be there, and let’s be real Jung Kook singing about fucking somebody right is already probably the most his fans can take at any one time lmao. I’m sure there were ladies fainting at his GMA performance like they were front row watching Elvis swivel his hips in 1956).

I liked the video! It was fun, and unexpectedly funny; JK playing the part of a boyfriend so obsessed with his toxic relationship that he keeps chasing his poor woman down even after every breakup (and murder?) attempt, through these surreal settings that just show how chaotic and unstable their relationship is. Han So Hee was gorgeous and did a good job despite her character pretty much having the same reaction/feeling in every scene but the last. Jung Kook, as so many pointed out, did a pretty terrible job looking angry or frustrated at any point 🤣 but that wasn’t really the point — the point is his obsession with his partner and willingness to jump off of a literal gurney and right back into the same situation that put him there in the first place.

Which brings me to my one gripe about the concept of the video which is that…. It doesn’t really match the lyrics? It’s not like that’s unusual in the world of MVs and I don’t think videos always have to be a play by play of the song, but it does feel like an excellent execution of a concept that would have fit better with a song about obsessive love, being unable to stop falling into the same toxic patterns, etc. Instead the song is pretty purely about sex and romance. To be honest, a few scenes of them falling into bed together would probably have made a bit more sense, honestly, if that’s supposed to be the reason he can’t stay away from this woman who seems to want almost nothing to do with him, lol.

Overall the video was visually satisfying and interesting, and this moment actually made me laugh out loud, boy was in his goofy element for a moment:

Latto

I’ll start by saying I was very excited when I realized that she would be featuring. I know some people had complaints, others didn’t know who she was, but I very much do know who she is and love her sound, so I was jazzed. My one concern was that… Latto lovers don’t be mad, but in my opinion she doesn’t have a lot of on-screen charisma.

I think it’s because she’s still relatively new. She’s beautiful, but I’m not sure she knows what to do with it yet other than sensually touch herself and minutely dance. It’s reminiscent of Dua Lipa in the early days when she wasn’t really great at dancing but was thrust up in the spotlight surrounded by backup dancers (who lest we forget have typically been training in dance nearly all their lives). For Latto, if she has no interest in dancing, that’s totally fine. I don’t think she HAS to do it or be good at it, but then in that case, I would expect a bit more expressiveness in her face and actions. And maybe you totally disagree with me — feel free to watch the Big Energy video and decide for yourself. To me though, she doesn’t bring enough energy (lol). Basically the opposite of Jung Kook in the GMA performance (which he fucking owned 😩 the 90s boy band vibes, the way he held his own and actually drew my attention the entire time despite the immense talent of his backup dancers. Holy shit that boy is a star.)

And my initial excitement and concern about Latto pretty much held up. Her rap was good, a fun add to the song, and I think she nailed the energy and the rhythm and the vibe (seriously when will male rappers catch up? Women are the only ones I want featuring on pop songs from now on. They’re the only ones who understand how to stay on topic). That being said her feature in the video was… just okay? The funeral scene was one of the better ones because of the above moment I mentioned, so that saved it, but I wish she’d given a little more than just like…touches to her boobs, you know? But to be fair, that was in keeping with the song’s theme.

Overall it’s a job well done for her. I was bummed she couldn’t join him at GMA but baby rapper JK came out of hiding and did a few of her lines, which was fun. He did quite intentionally change out the pronoun from “him” to “her” which brings me to…

Does this song mean he’s announcing he’s straight?!

I feel like I’m going to get a lot of anons about this… or maybe not since their wild predictions of pornographic make out scenes didn’t happen, after all… but I feel like there will be a lot of people calling this his definitive “coming out” as a pussy-loving straight dude. And to that I say…

Maybe? Here are my thoughts on this in no particular order:

We always say to listen to the guys. I didn’t disregard it when he and Jimin chose not to change the pronouns in their cover of “We Don’t Talk Anymore” and I won’t disregard the fact that he did change them in his performance here. For whatever reason, he wanted this song and this performance to be about a woman.

This might be an unpopular opinion, but him making this single about a woman doesn’t necessarily mean he did it out of an obligatory need to appear straight in order to appease his oppressive government. Maybe he just wanted to make it about a woman. And just in case you forgot…

Liking, being interested in, and/or being sexually attracted to women doesn’t automatically make a man heterosexual. Jimin has been giving off flirty vibes to men AND women his entire career, and he still melts over Jung Kook like a bomb pop on the Fourth of July. You can be a man and like women and also like men and those things can coexist and there’s a word for that. It’s called being bisexual. Hi 👋 there’s lots of us out here, even though we tend to get drowned out and ignored, especially if and when we pursue relationships with the opposite sex. Let’s not do that so much anymore, yeah?

I’ve brought it up before and I’ll continue to; he was in Charlie Puth’s video as a very obvious love interest. Now he has a woman in his video as a love interest. Neither one cancels out the other. Neither one is a definitive confirmation of his sexuality.

Also like… maybe it is that he’s just closeted and doesn’t feel ready to share his sexuality and so he’s going with heteronormativity because it’s easy and less questions will be asked. Idk. It’s not really my business to know.

Regardless, all the holding-hands-with-an-actress-in-a-music video moments in the world can’t cancel out this:

He supported Jimin in all these ways with all this undeniable lovey-dovey energy all this time. I don’t think his feelings for that man have changed one iota, whether it’s a really tight friendship (with… ahem, undertones of longing and desire) or a bona fide relationship. Either way, I think they’re enjoying it. And I hope they have fun exploring New York together.

Oh and I know he didn’t write it but… you gotta appreciate the continuity of “give me a good ride” and “it’s the way that you can ride” 🤭🤭🤭🤭

OKAY I think that’s all my thoughts for now. What are YOUR thoughts??? Please share them. Please share them respectfully, whether you comment or message or send an ask. I’m all ears 😁

#jeon jungkook #jungkook seven #jungkook seven music video #thoughts on seven by jungkook

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doll-elvis · 11 months

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idk, i might actually be the one elvis stan that's not riled up over the upcoming priscilla film. as far as it tainting elvis' image goes, over the years i've always come across people who condemned his dynamic w/ priscilla, so this just isn't something new. also, i don't recall him being depicted as a monster in her book?? at times he was loving, gentle, supportive, and remorseful. i think those aspects will be shown.

yeah now that some time has passed since the trailer was released I think I was probably being a little bit dramatic myself in my initial reaction lmaoo. like you mentioned, Elvis and Priscilla’s relationship has been under scrutiny for decades, so no matter how frustrating it is, that discourse will never end, I just have to learn how to put up with it 🤧

and while I’m not riled up about the movie anymore, I’m not exactly excited for it either. I’m still just questioning why it needed to be made as I don’t see this film offering any new information that we don’t already know. I saw the trailer in the theater previews when I went to see asteroid city and I have to say it made me weirdly anxious seeing it on the big screen 😩

but an anon did send me an ask that said this was the “official synopsis” and it made me feel more optimistic for the film

“When teenage Priscilla Beaulieu meets Elvis Presley at a party, the man who is already a meteoric rock-and-roll superstar becomes someone entirely unexpected in private moments: a thrilling crush, an ally in loneliness, a gentle best friend. Through Priscilla’s eyes, Sofia Coppola tells the unseen side of a great American myth in Elvis and Priscilla’s long courtship and turbulent marriage, from a German army base to his dream-world estate at Graceland, in this deeply felt and ravishingly detailed portrait of love, fantasy, and fame”

however despite the overall positive things Priscilla has said about Elvis over the years and in her biography, I think after reading her book the average person would walk away with a negative feeling towards Elvis and I can see that being the same with this upcoming movie, even if it shows the gentle and loving side of him

She didn’t exactly shy away from telling his unflattering anecdotes in the book: his infidelities, his temper and quickness to anger, like when he allegedly threw the chair with records on it at her, or when he allegedly hit her in the eye during a pillow fight which resulted in a black eye. and of course saying that he quote “forcefully” had intercourse with her after she told him she was leaving the marriage

to be fair to Priscilla, she made no allegations of r*pe despite some fans saying she did. however “forcefully” does imply that it was not consensual on Priscilla’s part, even if she didn’t say it explicitly

From my personal interpretation of the event, I could see Elvis being bolder or more “rough” than he had ever been with her as he felt as need to prove himself, and perhaps Priscilla did not expect it as Elvis was normally a very gentle and sensual partner

and like I mentioned while she never claimed it was a r*pe, that hasn’t stopped people from using that quote to say Elvis commited spousal r*pe, which is what most fans take issue with when it comes to her book, therefore I wish she could provide more clarity to dispel any rumors like that

but in this interview she does the say that the incident was “overstated”, so if that is true, I hope this film doesn’t have a repeat of the scene in the 1988 “Elvis and Me” which was extremely disturbing

I’m very curious to see how these scenes will be shown or if they will be shown at all and I really hope Coppola hasn’t made a film that Elvis haters will celebrate like they have been doing with the trailer

#thank you for the ask!!#I still can’t believe this movie is happening😭#I truly hope this film is like the synopsis suggests because I cannot wait to see the public realize Coppola isn’t out to ‘expose’ Elvis #I just want everyone on Twitter who thinks Elvis is a monster and that this film will prove it to have their hopes crushed lmaooo #like imagine this movie being a romcom #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis asks #elvis movie #elvis fans #priscilla movie #priscilla presley #Priscilla 2023

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deke-rivers-1957 · 10 months

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speaking of junior, i wonder why there isn't much about him in the elvis universe? like, there's curiously not a lot of stories and anecdotes from the memphis mafia about him. i want to know how elvis reacted to his death.

Billy in the Memphis Mafia book talks about him for about a chapter. The best way to describe the situation is: Junior got seriously messed up by his service in the Korean War. Nowadays there's resources for people suffering from PTSD but back then there just wasn't. Billy and Elvis still cared about Junior since he was family. The rest of the MM guys were afraid of him because his PTSD made him really dark.

When Junior died, Elvis had to re-shoot scenes for Wild in the Country when Hope Lange's character was going to commit suicide so he couldn't go to his funeral. Elvis supposedly said in reaction to Junior's death "It’s all over, Junior. It’s all over.” which I interpret it as Elvis knew Junior was hurting and is just at peace to know that Junior didn't have to suffer mentally anymore.

There is one story Billy shared where when Junior died, him and Elvis went to a morgue. See on Gladys' side people just didn't live long. Regardless of the reason, they usually didn't make it past their 50s. So when Junior died only a couple years after Gladys did, Elvis had this curiosity about death. In the end, according to Billy, Elvis in a sense blamed himself for Junior's death because ever since he went to the army in 58 he just didn't keep Junior close to him like he did in previous years. Of course it's not Elvis' fault since it's not his fault Junior even had to go to Korea, but I get the impression that Elvis was really the only one in position to help Junior and it just wasn't enough.

I'll post a video where Billy talks about Junior later. Hope this answered your question, anon.

#junior smith shouldn't be forgotten in this fandom #elvis fandom #anon submission #asks

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septembersghost · 1 year

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Sometimes it feels like people like to pat themselves on the back for dissing Elvis because it’s the cool thing to do

I’m the anon who deleted TikTok btw. I was tired of the same repetitive comments about Elvis and decided finally to delete that annoying app LOL.

i'm not sure what you saw on the clock app, though can guess it was probably the same stuff that's said on twt, but any reason you feel to get rid of that app, or anything that's stressing you out!, is a good/valid one.

when it comes to e, between misinformation, misunderstandings, and decades' worth of caricatures and this almost prideful disdain towards him - the origin of which i can't quite figure out? - he's been an easily mockable and reduced figure. like even beyond, idk, judgment of his struggles and addictions and health, or the massive volume of tabloid accounts, or the cardboard camp of impersonators, or the feeling some seem to have that he was too excessive or gauche, or define him by vegas as a kind of sideshow, there are some, i've come to find, that outright reject the idea he was in any way a serious artist. the article i read recently...basically posited he wasted his entire life and talent, in a way that was so cruel and dismissive of everything he ever did after sun records. things i can't even fathom saying about a person. ("success corroded and finally destroyed a budding talent who might have achieved so much more than just celebrity. He might have been an artist...by 1958, when he was inducted into the U.S. Army, his beauty and his creativity were behind him. A few brief echoing rays of the glory that had been might suddenly shine through, yet the sun had all but set." seriously? he was 23 years old in 1958! it's a complete erasure of nearly half his life. and it's particularly jarring as some of what's said in that piece is astute and well-written, yet some of the rest of it...i refuse to even quote.) he created so much wonderful music later, but it routinely gets ignored. (plus he wasn't a songwriter, as if that invalidates his astonishing musicality and gift of interpretation and arrangement). the movies, and critical view of them due to what they are, unfortunately do not help. this embarrassment surrounding him, the sense that his talent was squandered and his legacy tarnished, mixed with misperceptions of his character, is so ingrained in the pop cultural zeitgeist that there are always going to be people set to take him down a peg or deride him or shake their heads rather than lend any sympathy for how and why things unfolded as they did.

that video analysis i shared about the film mentioned him as this sort of quintessential american tragedy, the hollowness of the dream gone wrong, even though he was still trying so hard up to the end, still sharing that love with his audience, and i think sometimes we're uncomfortable looking at tragedy and illness and exploitation, so it's easier to ridicule or blame or turn into a joke. i also think his sincerity and emotion as a performer, the movement that came to him naturally that he couldn't switch off, the unique ways he utilized the power of his voice, read as, for lack of a better word, cringeworthy, to many, because society at large struggles with raw expression. a combination of factors thus make him an easy target. he's that halloween costume, spangles on a jumpsuit and what they erroneously view as shlocky music, or he's the worst perpetuated things, but never real, never explored or offered understanding. it's lousy and disheartening, but it unfortunately is what it is. (i can imagine only a fraction of why this stuff used to upset lisa marie the way it did.) i don't require people to be perfect to care about or be touched by them. human beings are not saints. he was flawed, he had a temper, he certainly misstepped, he made choices along the way that proved to be destructive. he was also generous and gracious and forgiving and compassionate, kind in a way that embraced people and made them feel seen and like they belonged, in a way that's still radiant in recollections, and in what we find in ourselves too.

catherine martin recently said, "elvis is a humanist. he believed in people and kindness and connection, and i think he wanted to use music to bring people together." he'd say, "i'm just a singer. i'm nobody special. do you think they'll remember me?" he always marveled that people came to see him, and held fast to that idea that the happiness and love in that connection of the music was worth something. as my friend wrote to me, there's a lot of dreck out there, but it's boring. there's no fire there, no passion. without the fire and passion you can't even get elvis at all. meanwhile, here we are, nearly fifty years later, on technology that didn't even exist while he lived, still finding reason to remember him, to wax poetic about him, to connect to him and to one another, to find that same joy and solace in the music. i have to believe that matters so much more. some of this other stuff is just useless clatter, you know? there's music and there's noise. i'll choose the music every time.

#anonymous #letterbox #elvis presley #i was a dreamer

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vintagepresley · 9 months

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CORNSTAR!ELVIS X NEW TO THE INDUSTRY!READER

You lay on the soft bed, completely naked. You wouldn't be able to stop looking at the camera if it weren't for the sex god on top of you. He spreads your legs and slowly enters you, your walls immediately clenching against his thick cock. You moan softly as he grunts, hiding his face in your neck. "That's it, doll. Take my cock." God, you wanted to come right then and there. You keep reminding yourself that this is porn, he's doing this cause it's his job, but it somehow feels like something else. His thrusts and rough and you wrap your arms around his neck, moaning loudly. You come and feel him pull out. He taps your thigh and snaps you out of your delicious high. "Want ya to ride me, baby." You moan as you straddle him and take his cock into your hand, as you do, you note the veins and his mushroom tip. You sink onto him and your eyes roll back. You bounce on him softly until he grabs your hips and helps you. He lifts you and as he pushes you down, you take more and more of his cock. The stretch burns deliciously and you come immediately. He thrusts into you until you feel warmth in your insides and his cum seeps into your womb. You would protest, as you aren't on the pill, but you were too gone to do so. You lay on him, his cock still inside of you, plugging you up. He whispers softly to you and caresses your hair. "You did so good, darlin'. So full of my cum, gonna give me a baby? Hmm?" and oh fuck, you're wet again.

xoxo, Army Elvis fic anon 💋

NOW BESTIE… YOU NEED TO GIVE ME A WARNING OMG FUCK ME. KRIS JENNER WORKS HARD BUT THE ELVIS BESTIES WORK HARDER BC WTF 😩😩😩😩😩😩

#army elvis anon

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venus-haze · 2 years

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Hey Battie, this is Childhood sweetheart yandere!Elvis anon, thank you so much for taking the request! And as far as what era I'm thinking pre-army 50s Elvis, like maybe in that time frame where there was the "new" Elvis, it was suggested maybe settling down with a nice girl and he only had reader in mind. If you think there's another era that works better feel free to change it, I trust your judgment completely, because I know it will be amazing 👏

That’s perfect🖤 I just wanted to check with you, and honestly I’m excited to write for ‘50s yandere Elvis since I feel like most of my yandere content for him takes place later in his career. Thank you for requesting!

🦇 Battie

#request tag

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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could i possibly request more gun kink pls? 🙏🙏🙏

red brass

summary: elvis loves you or at least likes you. elvis learns things on the road. elvis likes to have the girl he likes try the new things he thinks he'll like with him. you allow it. fandom: elvis presley | elvis 2022 pairing: elvis presley x female reader rating: m word count: 3408 just i don't know what happens. i don't know why i write 3k gun kink fics. warnings: gun kink. use of a gun in penetrative ways. guns. implied masturbation ( m ). implied future oral ( f ). technically defined as masturbation or maybe fucking ( f ). dubious, and i mean very dubious consent. 50s era elvis being a little shit. infidelity ( elvis to the reader ). southern accents being mildly butchered. faintly erring toward a sub elvis, while also somehow being a dom elvis, it's nebulous honestly. me implying that texans love their guns a lil' too much. use of nicknames ( honey, darlin', baby. ) and 'vis. no use of y/n. i think that might be everything? author's note: hi anon, i know who you are and i love you. i hope you enjoy this fic that essentially is a prequel-ish, a spiritual prequel to gunmetal. and me basically going, i guess i'm gonna write 50s elvis with a gun kink. generally speaking i don't even know what has come over me with this, i'm just gonna take y'all along for a ride. watch me inevitably write army e or hollywood e with gun kink.

You know you can find a better guy, or at least you think you can, because there's something that makes men- little boys want to prove themselves after they find out you're with Elvis Presley. You're fairly certain that you could at least find a guy who would be there more often than Elvis is, you could find a guy who could take you out on regular dates and could eat dinner with your parents and- maybe even get married to you sooner rather than later. The problem is, you're never quite sure you want to find that guy, never quite certain if that sort of guy would be better than Elvis. For all Elvis is a selfish young man— the kind who will take take take from his girlfriends as much as he gives gives gives- he's also a good man. He's a better man than half the boys who sniff around you, the little hound dogs as you and Elvis like to call them. So it's always a whispered "honey, ya ain't gonna leave me are ya? gonna be comin' home soon and we'll have some fun. gonna show those dogs who they'd be fightin' wit' for ya."

Your friends think you're being silly, waiting on Elvis, thinking he's remaining faithful to you while on the road. Your mama thinks the same thing and god help you even Miss Gladys agrees. She loves her son, she does, but she knows- oh she knows how he's been calling her less and less and knows that can't mean a single good thing. Can't mean anything good for anyone involved. But when her little boy calls you or calls her he's always reassuring you both that the girls don't mean nothin'. He's jus' lonely and he can't take he can't take the love of his life or his mama wit' him so sometimes- sometimes there's a girl in the hotel. June says you shouldn't forgive him when he admits it the first time but you've never been like June, never been as strong as June is and maybe— maybe that's why Elvis liked you so much. You're not June but you're just close enough that he can still have her with the parts that don't fit his life removed. Selfish, but he's never claimed to be a saint, hell no one's ever claimed he's a saint.

The thing is- you've gotten used to him talking to you over the phone about things that don't always happen. Sometimes it's just about his dreams, about his plans for what he's gonna do the second he sees you. Sometimes it's plans for how he's gonna take you out on the next tour, he doesn't care how it looks, he misses ya widdle pussy and everyone already knows he's got a girl, it won't matter seeing ya on the tour. You're expecting tonight to be just the same, another night of promises he can't keep even though he'll be home tomorrow night for at least a week or two. Tonight, though, tonight, he surprises you.

"Baby? Ya- Whatcha got planned for tomorrow? Nothin' fancy right?" He murmurs into the phone, his breath hitching in a way you know doesn't mean anything good.

You hum softly, shifting in your bed a little. "Planned on jus' lettin' ya go home to ya parents, honey, why?"

"Wanna- Ya gonna think I'm crazy but wanna try somethin' wit' ya tomorrow night. Think you'll like it." He sounds excitable in a way that means you're gonna regret telling him no if you do. He'll every bit of the young man he is, the yittle boy who wants so much and now that he's got a taste of people saying yes, yes, yes, he doesn't necessarily want to hear no on something he truly wants. "Ya gonna say yes, ain't ya?"

A sigh leaves your lips as you debate with yourself, debate if you can chance saying no before settling on the a yes that's filled with such trepidation you worry he'll still want to argue with you. "'Course I am, darlin'. Tell me, 'Vis, whatcha plannin' on doin' wit' me. Gonna take me somewhere and have us play there? We gonna have fun in the car?"

The tone you manage is light and playful— or at least as close to it as you can manage before you hear Elvis's laugh. It's a laugh you've never heard from him and one that worries you. It sounds a little demonic if you were being perfectly honest, but you trust Elvis for the most part. He loves you and wouldn't purposefully hurt you and maybe it's just a mean idea. One he shouldn't be asking you but he's going to because he knows you're better than all those girls on the road.

"Ya ever played wit' ya daddy's guns, darlin'? Ever felt the metal on ya? It's cold on ya skin, ya know." He muses, like he's put it on his skin and a rush of jealousy rears its ugly head at the idea that maybe just maybe some other girl has gotten to see this. Or maybe he's done this to another girl. You almost miss his next words. "Bet it'd make your chest- make those pretty nipples of your stand right up. Be beggin' for me to suck on 'em."

Your pussy clenches at his words and you can't help how your breath catches. "You'd- I've never— What are ya sayin', Elvis Presley?"

Almost his full name because you're so taken aback by what he's saying. You're imagining this or he's playing a joke on you, trying to get some sort of rise with you. He wouldn't dream of saying this and honestly meaning it. Let alone telling you over the phone like this, it's almost as if he's warnin' you about this but— why? Why would he want to warn you about something like this.

"Honey, I— down here in Texas they— their girls are wild, ya know? Thought it was jus' the women but no it's girls your age too, ya know? Somethin' 'bout this air that makes 'em do things I ain't ever seen another girl do. And I was talkin' to someone 'bout the gun he had on his holster, prettiest thing I ever did see other than you, darlin'. Told me 'bout how his girlfriend— or maybe it was his fiancée played wit' it." Elvis's voice sounds simultaneously like he's nervous to bring this up to you while also taking on this certain element of delight. Certain pleasure in telling you about this person. "Inside of her."

"Inside of— Now I know you aren't— You mean inside her—" You cough, because you are not some wilting little girl. You are Elvis Presley's girlfriend and you can be a big girl about this. "You mean she put it inside of her vagina?" The last word is whispered almost as if you're scared your parents are going to hear or if it'll make it more real to say it out loud.

Elvis chuckles softly, more of a huff of a laugh than anything else before he responds back with any words. "She did. He said he watched her and said she— She liked it. Told 'im it was even better than when he fucked her."

The image of Elvis pumping his gun in and out of you like he would his cock has you dropping the phone for a second in pure shock. The way you can feel your arousal starting to pool between your legs has you biting your lips and shifting in your bed, your thighs gliding together as your breathing changes just slightly. You know Elvis can tell from how he growls into the phone. He may be a dumb yittle boy sometimes but he knows you just as well as you know him now. "You don't really want me to do that when you get home, do you 'Vis?"

"I think ya wanna do it for me, honey. Think if I was there I'd see ya looking like a damn cricket, sliding your legs together. Just one time, baby? One time and if we don't like it, I ain't ever gonna bring it up again. For me? For us?" He sounds so small when he asks, but you know better, it's him trying to charm you, trying to seem all innocent when you both know he hasn't been innocent since the first time he went on tour or the first time a girl batted her eyelashes and said hello.

Your only response is a simple okay before you move onto better topics. Less arousing topics.

Your parents are used to Elvis whisking you away for any number of things so when he comes home the next night, they don't bat an eyelash at him taking you with him to Graceland with promises about how you'll be in another room and his mama won't let him do anything untoward to you. Nevermind that when Miss Gladys sees you it's for the briefest of moments as her son whisks you up the stairs and has you pinned against the door, hands roaming every inch of your skin threatening to set it on fire as he kisses your lips and your neck. He's needy tonight and you don't know if it's because of what you promised him or if he missed you just that much. You feel a hard mass near his leg and you can't help but wonder if it's his cock or the gun because you haven't seen a holster or anything that shows off a gun. Despite your better judgment when he pulls away and you are nuzzling at his nose you give him a nervous grin and whisper a joke.

"That your gun, 'Vis? Or are ya jus' happy to see lil ole me?" A laugh escapes his lips at the same time one escapes yours before he moves to try and pull down your skirts.

"Lil' of both, honey," he practically coos at you when your skirt comes down and you're standing there in your half unbuttoned shirt and your underwear. "Wanna see ya naked for this. Get the full effect."

You bite your lip, your nervousness finally fully peeking through. It's not as if you've never been naked with Elvis, it's not as if he's never seen you completely laid bare underneath him or above him but this is different. Something about this makes you feel raw and exposed like a live wire. A shiver escapes you as Elvis tilts his head just a little bit.

“Don’t— Ain’t nothin’ we haven’t shown each other, baby. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Gonna make ya feel good. Gonna have ya feeling the hot and cold’s what they said,” his hands ghost over your waist before he slides his hands under your shirt to pull it off of you, kissing along the skin he’s exposing bit by bit. “Ya wanna take off my clothes, honey? That gonna make ya feel better? Give ya somethin’ to settle the shakes ya got like ya had the first time we did it in the Cadillac?”

Your hand clenches into a fist before you nod, moving to undo his belt with a speed that embarrasses you a little bit until you hear him laughing softly above you. He finds it endearing, your eagerness or your nervousness and somehow that settles something in you, makes this seem less terrifying. Elvis may have asked you something that’s a mighty strange request but he’s still your Elvis. He wouldn’t hurt you, not intentionally. It doesn’t take too long before you manage to get him out of all his clothes, watching as his muscles twitch under your touch and how the moment you step out of your undergarments his cock twitches so violently in the confines of his underwear he hisses when he gets to pull them off, cursing at his foreskin. The gun is sitting on the bed and you stare at it as Elvis moves behind you cupping your breasts and kissing along your neck slowly, trying to settle you like a scared animal.

“It ain’t loaded, honey, just— this one time, ‘member? We jus’ gonna try it, see if those Texans know somethin’ we don’t.” His voice is low enough to be crooning at you and you feel your body lean up against him, relax up against him. “You get to do it, baby. Just, do what ya want with the gun.”

It takes you a minute or maybe five of just relaxing against him to get up the nerve to crawl on his bed and prop yourself on his pillows.The gun feels heavy in your hand but you’re pretty sure you’re just imagining it as you let the metal touch your neck— your overheated neck— and whimper at the coolness of it. Elvis settles himself at the end of the bed, eyes watching how your nipples are already pebbling before the gun even touches them. You let your legs fall open to give him a better view and you hear a grunt that has you looking up at your boyfriend’s lower lip between his teeth.

“Already gettin’ shiny down there. Glowin’ in the moonlight, darlin’. Wanna- Gonna taste all that later, if ya don’t leave it all over the bed.”

You clench around nothing at the words and Elvis reaches out to touch you before you shake your head, “no, wanna— you wanna see me play wit’ this. Wanna see me play wit’ this like they did. No- You don’t get to touch.”

The funny thing is, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Elvis react as quick as he does in that moment. You don’t think you’ve ever seen your boyfriend respond to something you’ve told him to do as quick as he does in that exact moment. His hand goes directly to his own lap as he nods, whining just a little as he does and you have to bite back the soft giggle that threatens to escape you. The gun though, the sharp coolness of the metal helps you, helps distract you from giggling even if as the gun glides across your nipple you cry out almost in agony. Elvis had been right, they were practically begging to be sucked, to be warmed by his tongue and his mouth. Anything would be better than the bite of the metal, the brush of the barrel against them. Elvis doesn’t make a move though, you had told him not to touch and he was being good even as his hand strayed to his cock, playing with it, his thumb brushing over the tip as he pulled his foreskin back.

Focusing on him made things worse and somehow better, made you wish you had told him he could touch, made you wish he would was moving the gun himself but he told you this was your call, you were in control of what happened with the gun. Small whimpers leave your lips as you try and keep your legs open, practically trying to grind on the air as you slide the gun down down down your torso. You stop just shy of your vagina, your hand shaking a little before you hear Elvis’s voice.

“Ya— Ya good, darlin’?” His question is asked a little shakily but it makes you realize you aren’t the only nervous one here, or maybe he’s just so turned on he can’t speak straight. It doesn’t matter, you don’t think, not with how it calms you just so. “Ya want my help? Want me to hold it for ya?”

“Please?” Your answer comes out rushed and so quiet that you feel the rush and heat of embarrassment as you shiver from it. You want to do this, but it’s not something you’ve ever done and it’s new. For both of you, you hope. Elvis moves closer to you, deciding that sitting next to you might be the best position for this so he can watch and still help you. You move to take your hand off the gun, thinking he wants complete control before he links your fingers together and places both your hands on the gun. You’re still in control with just a little help from him.

You take your hand that’s not on the gun and use it you spread yourself open, making sure there’s enough of a glide from your arousal- a forgone conclusion you think- to help with the gun brushing against your cunt— your vagina— your whatever the two of you want to call it. As your fingers start to play with your clit you feel the brush of the metal finally sliding down and against your clit. A groan leaves your lips as you grind down automatically, craving something to finally give you some proper friction. It’s cold but it doesn’t have the same bite as it did against your nipples, no it’s almost as if the burning heat that keeps growing between your legs offsets it, allows the gun to be heated quicker than it ever would be outside of you. Elvis’s lips brush against the shell of your ear. “Ya ready baby? Ready to take it inside?”

A hum is all you can manage, too anxious and excited all at once to trust anything other than a whimper to leave your mouth if you open it. Elvis knows you though, knows you like the back of his hand or like his guitar and he pushes the gun inside you, slowly but surely, watching the barrel disappear in between your legs as you practically keen at the sensation. It’s the metal contrasting with your skin, with your arousal with everything. It feels like it shouldn’t be up there while feeling less filling than Elvis ever has been. You rock a little against it as part of it brushes against your clit or maybe that’s just yours and Elvis’s hands. At some point you shut your eyes, not because you didn’t want to watch, but because the sensation feels better when you don’t see it, it keeps you grounded in a way having your eyes open doesn’t. Elvis’s voice seems so far away even as you rock against the gun. Had this been what the women were talking about? Did they feel like this too? Powerful and yet stripped bare knowing what was between their legs sliding in and out of their most private parts?

“Christ they weren’t lyin’ ya look fuckin’. Gonna hafta help me wit’ what’s ‘tween my legs, honey. Wanna taste ya after this- wanna have ya all night. Missed ya and now ya doin’ this? Fuckin’ perfect for me. Best girl I coulda asked for. Ya gonna— Ya hear how ya sound?” His words are slurred against your ear and you do hear yourself, hear how the gun squelches and squishes between your folds and you whine, your head turning trying to bury your head into Elvis’s shoulder even if it should be impossible. Your brain and your heart and your ears register him shushing you, telling you he’s gotcha, telling you how he wants to see you come like this and that does it. You clench around the barrel and a soundless scream leaves your mouth as your orgasm rips through you and leaves you shaking and twitching against Elvis. There’s a warmth next to your leg and you open your eyes to see Elvis’s own release against your leg as he flushes under your gaze.

Almost as if he wants to distract you he starts to pull the gun out and you shut your eyes at the sensation before opening them back up again when you hear the pop of it being pulled completely out of you. It takes you and Elvis a few minutes after he tosses the gun to the side before you speak.

“Can’t do that again tonight.” But perhaps another night, your mind thinks as you move to play with Elvis’s cock.

His hand moves to swat your hand away as he slinks down the bed and puts himself at eye level with your vagina. “Don’t want ya to,” he pauses, licking his lips as you allow your legs to fall open just a hair. “Gonna taste ya though. See if ya taste any different.”

You don't.

#elvis presley #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #that's all the tags i'm doing.#ally writes #should've hid this one in my ao3.

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