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#elvis fans
elvispresley1956 · 3 days
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I will never get over how good he looked this day 🥲🥲
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hooked-on-elvis · 20 hours
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The Black Brocade Suit (1970) featured UNICORNSSSSSS! Oh my god. The sad thing about is: there aren't pictures of Elvis wearing it (that had surfaced so far). It's a shame Elvis' early seasons at the International Hotel weren't fully documented. Apparently this suit was very close to be featured in an Elvis film.
First worn during his 1970 January/February Las Vegas engagement (Elvis' second season at the International Hotel) then *possibly* again during the August/September engagement — the moment "Elvis That's The Way It Is" was filmed, his third season at the International Hotel. I mean... imagine if this suit has made it to the documentary! 🥹✨
Further info: There is another version of the Black Brocade suit which features a gold trim instead of redish tone.
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Credits/Source: elvisconcerts.com [Jumpsuit Index]
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“Welcome Home Elvis” 1960. Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra duet - Love Me Tender/Witchcraft.
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jhoneybees · 2 days
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This picture gives me chills, the past looking at the future😓
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Songbird
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Summary: The year is 1969. The place is the International Hotel. Valerie Pedretti, an aspiring singer, has a chance encounter with one Elvis Presley in an elevator that will change her life forever. Notes: To me, 1967-1971 EP is kind of peak Elvis, and so I wanted to write a fic with him smack dab in that time period. In the 1969-1970 period, especially, Elvis was probably the most handsome and alluring man in the galaxy. Lots of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies in this one, but just roll with it because it's fun! I based Valerie, in a sense, off of a mixture of Kathy Westmoreland, Joyce Bova, and Linda Thompson. Kathy met the real Elvis for the first time in an elevator, and that really inspired this work. Priscilla exists in this universe but she and Elvis get a divorce far earlier than in real life. Theirs, in some ways like real life, is a marriage of convenience and an "arrangement." Lisa Marie does not exist in this universe.
Las Vegas, Nevada, 1969
*
Valerie Pedretti was not at all prepared to meet Elvis Presley. 
If you had told her she would soon come face to face with the biggest star on the planet, she would have probably laughed in your face. Then, if she realized you were actually serious, she would have at least wanted to look nice. Without question, she’d have spent hours in the front of her tiny, chipped, robin’s egg blue vanity primping and preening and making sure her nails were a beautiful crimson red.
Then, she’d have slipped into a knit wrap dress to accentuate her waist or something flirty like that and made sure her chocolate brown locks were curled into place. Her face would be painted to meticulous perfection, having obsessed over every flick of eyeliner, pump of mascara, and swipe of strawberry lip gloss. 
In that alternate reality, Valerie Pedretti would've met Elvis Presley looking every bit the star that he was. But life, with its unpredictable turns, had other plans.
Instead, she found herself dressed for comfort in her oldest and rattiest pair of jeans, her hair a tangled mess, and she’d been schlepping, with great difficulty, what seemed like the two largest suitcases known to man.
As she looked at her reflection in the airport bathroom, Val could see the exhaustion written all over her face. Dark circles sunk in around her eyes and her mascara had smeared from the long flight, leaving streaks down her cheeks. All she wanted was to dart out of the airport, peel off her sweat-slicked clothing, plop into her hotel bed, and start fresh tomorrow. 
It had been a horrendously long day. A simple six-hour flight to Vegas turned into a 19-hour odyssey thanks to inclement weather. On the cab ride to the hotel, she didn’t even care to look at the lights illuminating the strip. Normally, her eyes would have been peeled, taking in all the sights and sounds of Sin City as they flashed by the window and melded into one big neon strobe. Instead, she lay her exhausted head down against the inside of the doorframe and drifted off to sleep.
Before she knew it, she was shaken awoke by the gruff cabby, drool pooling at the side of her mouth. So attractive.“International Hotel,” he grunted, his voice an ice bath. As if on autopilot, Valerie stuffed a few crinkled bills into his hands and spilled out onto the hotel's paved entryway in a crumpled heap. 
An arctic blast of air conditioning jolted her awake. Valerie's legs ached with each step and her shoulders sagged under the weight of her suitcases. The International Hotel engulfed her in its fervor, neon lights winking like overzealous stars against the deep velvet of night. Despite the late hour, the lobby buzzed with life, swarms of people milling about, all dolled up in sequins and slick suits. Elvis memorabilia hawkers were shouting deals, waving glossy photos and gold-lettered albums. Pennants and posters seemed to drape cover every square inch of wall space. And then it hit her, a sinking in her gut—Elvis's debut season. She winced at the oversight.
"Shit," she murmured, shuffling forward.
Suddenly, she felt self-conscious in her t-shirt and Robert Clergerie knock offs. Her mind wandered back to small rooms with peeling wallpaper, where a radio was the gateway to a world beyond. Valerie would press her ear against the cool plastic, letting melodies replace meals she couldn't afford. Singing became her escape, her only luxury. High school years were a blur of odd jobs and makeshift stages, all for that one shot at the spotlight.
When her best friend Deena fell ill, this golden ticket—an audition for Frank Sinatra in Las Vegas—landed in Valerie's hesitant hands, and she was going to take it come hell or high water. Here and now, amidst the glitter and fanfare meant for another.
Someone walking by spilled their drink on her sleeve, bringing her back to reality. Weaving through the crowd, Valerie found her way to the check-in desk. She cleared her throat.
“What’s the name of the reservation?”
“Val—uh, Deena Lovelace.”
The blonde woman with a pixie cut whose nameplate said Brenda thumbed the appointment book and, after what seemed like an agonizing wait, found her tired guest’s name. “I’ve got you! You’re in room 2106. Just a moment, please.” 
In an instant, weighty keys were plunked into her hands. Valerie turned on her heel and hoofed it for her room. The hotel was a dizzying array of turns—this way and that—and in her tired stupor, it reminded her of a twisting maze. Her thudding, ungainly steps were muffled by both the shag carpet and the din of the fans congregating in the reception area. 
However, as she continued her journey, the ambiance gradually shifted. The hum of voices grew fainter, replaced by an overwhelming silence that signaled she was far from the bustling core of the hotel. Exhaustion tugged at her bones while she navigated the maze of hallways. Her room was somewhere in this labyrinth, but her bed felt worlds away. 
Her steps sunk into the plush carpet as she drifted into a quieter corridor, dimly lit, less traveled. Finally, she found herself in a secluded spot, standing alone in front of an elevator. She pressed the button and waited, arms aching from the weight of her bulging valises. Inner Valerie cursed herself for packing way too much. 
"Must be close now," she told herself, voice barely a whisper.
With no effort at all, she slipped out of her heels and bent her toes backwards and forwards, allowing her feet to relish the plush shag below. It was soft, springy, and just what her aching soles needed. On instinct, she began singing a familiar, yet nameless tune—just a few absentminded bars of sweet little sounds to make the time pass. Notes she’d always turned to when she needed comfort. The thought of washing her face and jumping into bed was the only thing on her mind as the golden doors opened with a tinny ding, only half-startling her out of her exhausted stupor.
The light emanating from the gilt cabin was so intense she hadn’t realized there were people inside. As her eyes adjusted, she quickly shoved her feet back into her shoes, feeling like a complete mess.
"Evening, miss," greeted a man with a shock of red hair and a face peppered with freckles. He held the elevator door with a gesture of gentlemanly politeness, his eyes twinkling with warmth. As she stepped inside, he looked to his companion. The contrast between them was stark.
Beside the redhead in white stood a tall, lean man, exuding an air of effortless elegance. He was dressed head-to-toe in black: sleek trousers, a crisply tailored shirt, and a sharp tuxedo jacket that hung perfectly on his lithe, powerful frame. 
The lone pop of color came from a chic scarf looped around his elegant neck, its pink, black, and white patterns accentuating the perfectly tanned skin. His raven-black hair, styled to perfection, gleamed like quicksilver in the elevator's light. But what really gave him away were the expensive-looking horn-rimmed sunglasses perched atop a flawlessly sculpted nose.
Valerie didn't need a second glance. Even with those sunglasses on, there was no mistaking him. His images, large and in living color, adorned the walls of the hotel's lobby. Everywhere she looked downstairs, his face stared back, and now, she was sharing an elevator with him. 
The redhead caught her gaze and gave a knowing smile. “I see you’ve met my friend Jon Burrows, here.” He chuckled, shaking his head. 
But there was no mistaking it; this was no Jon Burrows. It was him. Elvis fucking Presley. In the flesh. Was she dreaming? Her pulse quickened. Should she say something to him? Would he even acknowledge her? And most importantly, how in the hell did this happen?
Every ounce of self-consciousness about her disheveled appearance vanished instantly, eclipsed by the sheer magnitude of his aura. Her eyes widened to an almost cartoonish extent, and she found herself involuntarily scanning him with exaggerated deliberation—starting from his polished shoes, moving upwards past tailored seams, and culminating at the crown of his meticulously styled hair.
Valerie had never met anyone famous before, let alone a star of his magnitude. 
The man she recognized as Elvis leaned casually against the elevator’s plush wall. His observant eyes, always used to the spotlight, now turned their attention to her. He took in her slumped shoulders and the fatigue etched into her features.
“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you, honey?” His voice, usually filled with the charisma of a performer, now carried an undertone of genuine warmth and concern. It startled Valerie. 
She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. "I—uh, yeah. No. I mean, yes. S-something like that." 
Fucking get it together, Valerie. 
"Hey,” he soothed. “I know the feeling.” He flashed a smile that seemed to blind her in the already bright cabin. "My name is Elvis, and this here is Red. And who might you be, honey?" 
As if he needed any introduction. 
A warm blush colored her cheeks. "Val—," she murmured, her eyes darting downwards. “My name is Valerie.” She looked down and breathed a sign of relief. Her shoes were on her feet and not in her hands. 
"Val-e-rie," Elvis repeated, rolling the name over his tongue, savoring every syllable. "That's a beautiful name. Are you in town for a show?"
Valerie shook her head. "Technically, yes. Well, no. Just an audition," she replied, her pulse quickening. Her heart thundered in her ears. She hoped he couldn’t hear it. 
“Who for?”
“Frank Sinatra.”
“Too bad. Could’ve used a pretty little voice like yours in my show. Never hurts to have another one,” he chuckled, his eyes dancing with mischief and warmth behind tinted sunglasses. "Well, I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead," Elvis whispered. "You have a lovely voice, I can tell."
Suddenly, Valerie’s cheeks scorched and her stomach rolled. "How d’you mean?"
Elvis laughed again. "Well, darling, I have a sixth sense about these things," he said. He rolled one of his impressive gold rings around his finger. "Plus, I heard you singing a tune just before the doors opened. You're just a li’l songbird, ain’t you?"
Words scattered like startled birds in her mind. Every ounce of air she inhaled seemed charged with energy. First she shares an elevator with Elvis Presley, and now he’s complimenting her? And giving her a nickname? It was almost too much to handle. Deena would just die at having missed this.
Before she could respond, Elvis reached for her hand and clasped it in his own. His icy rings sizzled as they touched her hot, flushed skin. A jolt of electricity coursed through her body. And just as the elevator doors opened, Elvis leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered with genuine sincerity. “Give it your all tomorrow. Knock ‘em dead, songbird.” Valerie shivered, feeling both excited and slightly afraid, and catching a glimpse of what she thought could be a smirk on his full lips. 
Then, wordlessly, smoothly, almost teasingly, he stepped out of the cab alongside Red. All that remained was a cloud of heady, spicy cologne. Shivering, she was left leaning against the cool wall of the elevator, her legs weak.
“What was that?” she muttered to herself in disbelief, frantically pressing the button for her floor. As she ascended, her lungs remembered to breathe again. Her body, coiled like a spring, gradually loosened. Warmth dissipated from between her legs. 
It was the first time that Elvis Presley and Valerie Pedretti would meet, but it would be the last time he would ever forget her. Little did they both know that their paths would cross again, in a way that would change both of their lives forever. 
But for now, Valerie was content to sink into her hotel bed and dream of the handsome stranger she had met in the elevator.
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ladelinee · 23 hours
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I would do anything to get a kiss from Elvis 🤩🤩😍
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vintagepresley · 2 days
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It’s giving model. It’s giving Zoolander’s blue steel.
Lmao, he’s so cute.
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starryschoolgirl · 5 months
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Good Husbandry
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Summary -> While you view preparing for your honeymoon as finding all the hottest destinations in Honolulu for tourists, Elvis knows that he must help you, his soon-to-be virgin bride, understand all that comes with the honeymoon. What a good man he is, to give you a little hands-on lesson on what good husbandry is.
Warnings -> Lovely domestic things, innocence/purity kink, religious undertones, smut, just the tip trope, hinted breeding kink, swearing, Elvis gets a little rough, mention of RFK's assassination, the reader is overbearingly sheltered when it comes to topics like sex, cum eating, fantasies of "ruining" a girl's vagina, there's definitely some plot here I won't lie, loved writing this a little too much.
WC -> 7.3k
A/N -> This is an installation of the Baby Love AU. Find Masterlist Here!
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The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotion for everyone. Elvis was doing press conferences for the NBC special he was about to start filming for, and while you usually go with him, with the recent assassination of Robert F. Kennedy, it was decided unanimously that it would be best if you were at home.
Elvis would have liked to keep you by his side, but given your family’s public connection to the Kennedys he knew that the press might behave in an uncalled for manner toward you.
It was also to be noted that he’d been very patient with you the entire week, after all you did know the man. He was a close family friend, a lot closer to your father, mother, and older brother than you. But there were still tears shed a few nights ago when it had occurred.
Most of that week you sat around the current California home, keeping the couch company like you were the prettiest of pillows as you spent most of your time on the telephone with your hysterical mother and being soothed by your childhood nanny who now watched your younger brother. You’d decided to write a letter to Ethel, she was no doubt being bombarded with phone calls from press and other family with the recent death of her husband. 
It was a rough way to start the month, it was only 6 days into June when something as tragic as that had occurred. 
You were certain things would change in regards to the guest list of your wedding just a little over a week away, for one you could understandably count on the possible absence of Ethel Kennedy and her children. Aside from her it wasn’t Elvis’ side you were worried about, because when Elvis says jump they all say “how high?”. It was your own side that worried you.
You knew it was selfish and stupid to be thinking of that at a time like this, those poor Kennedys have been through so much. But you couldn’t help the worrisome thoughts that lingered in your mind. Your parents already didn’t approve of Elvis all that much, with the influx of emotion that this event caused they might just cancel all together and then you’ll be left without anyone from your own family.
And that alone could cause an emotional storm to brew in Elvis. He always expressed his own disdain for your family, but you knew there was guilt deep down that he felt. And if he realized that he were the reason your wedding day went without family, he would be angry with you and himself. But that was only because he felt things very deeply, he was caring in that way.
So you made sure the past few days to get in as much reading as possible, so that even if your wedding doesn’t end up being the dream you hoped for, that your knowledge of your honeymoon destination would make up for it.
It had to be perfect. You had to be perfect.
"We better get up and get changed soon..."
You hummed absently at Elvis' words as your eyes continued to skim along the page.
"Wouldn't want the rest of the boys seein' ya in ya nightie"
You hummed once more at whatever he had said, much too focused on your book to pay much mind. Elvis noticed this and laughed softly as he asked,
"What are ya readin' Honey?"
You looked up from the book that you had been enthralled in for the past half-hour to see Elvis staring at you over one of his religious books, he had a crooked smile and a quirked eyebrow, his facial expression likely from the fact that you were actually reading a book.
You smiled cheekily and crawled closer to him on the bed, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you quickly card your floral bookmark in between the pages you were on before closing it and presenting it to Elvis, your fiancé.
"It's a book all about Hawaii, it has some of the best secret locations on all the islands, including Oahu"
You smiled up at him as his eyes scrolled to look over at you then at the book, a smirk playing on his lips as he did so. He set his book down on his lap to grab yours, one of his fingers tracing over the cover as he murmured honestly,
"Well Babylove, I don't think these locations are all too secret anymore considerin' the book is 7 years old"
You hummed softly at the statement. Truthfully you only picked the book off the shelf because one, it said Hawaii which is the place you and Elvis were planning to be your honeymoon destination, and secondly, it was pink.
Elvis shook his head fondly and brought a hand up to ruffle your hair, thankfully at the moment there were no rings on his fingers to pluck and pull at the strands of your hair. With that in mind you happily leaned into the touch like a cat getting its fix from its owner.
You roll your body closer, dragging one leg over Elvis' legs as if he were one of those long body pillows. You snuggled your face into his chest, feeling the silky fabric of his short ascot scarf. He'd recently begun wearing them often, you didn't mind it because you could tug him by his scarf whenever you wanted a kiss.
Your voice was soft and murmured into the fabric, "I wanna start our marriage off right, our honeymoon has to be perfect, and this book,”
You pull back for a moment to grab the book and open it to the first page. Elvis watches with an amused smile as your dainty little finger flies across the dust-colored pages to the sentence that you read aloud,
"These spots will guarantee a sweet time with that special someone"
Elvis’ voice is laced with harmless sarcasm (that you don’t quite catch) as he says,
“Oh well if the book says so, it has to be true”
You then excitedly close the book and show Elvis the back cover, where a quote from what must've been a review was laid out in bold, "Has the hottest places for America’s hottest honeymoon destination"
Elvis laughed softly. His arm wraps around your shoulder as his hand runs up and down your back, calluses grazing the delicate fabric of your satin nightie with a scratching sound before taking its rest on the curve of your ass. He explains, "Well little one, there's a bit more to honeymoons and marriage than that"
Your eyebrow quirks in the way you learned from watching Elvis' own eyebrow within the span of your relationship. It looked as if you were suspicious of Elvis, thinking he was trying to pull the wool over your eyes.
With a gentle hand Elvis removed the book from your hand and set it on the nightstand where he then set his own book on as well. You laughed softly as Elvis’ hands pulled you into your place, till you straddled his lap innocently for him to explain something,
“Well Babylove, a big part of marriage and honeymoonin’ is good husbandry.”
You go silent for a second, thinking to yourself as your fingers trace little shapes on Elvis’ chest absentmindedly. When you come to the conclusion that you’re clueless on the subject you ask,
“What’s husbandry?”
Elvis’ hands run along your sides, running up to your ribs, down to your hips, then repeating their cycle, it was in his own absentmindedness that he did it as he explained,
“Well, husbandry is kind of cultivatin’ and makin’ use of land, sorta like plantin’ a seed and takin’ care of it.”
“Like farmers do?”
“Very good girl, like farmers do. Now ya see, that comes into play within things like marriage and honeymoons. To be a farmer, the first thing ya gotta do is plant a seed, then ya get your farm goin’ and everythin’ is just dandy as long as you keep takin’ care of that seed.”
You nodded your head along to what he was saying, it made sense. But what did that have to do with your honeymoon?
“Just as that goes, to be a husband, you also gotta plant a seed. So ya see, in marriage, instead of a farmer plantin’ a seed, it’s the husband who plants the seed, and he plants it right in your petals”
You grimaced with embarrassment as you heard Elvis mention your “petals”. Such talk was still very new to you. Having been raised by the church most of your life, and having only attended catholic private schools, you’d been taught that such talk was deplorable and vulgar. 
Elvis seemed to be trying to undo all their teaching as he was very free and open with topics such as that one.
He could see the way your face began to dust a precious pink along your cheeks as you stared down at your hands scrunching up his shirt’s fabric within them. He couldn’t help but adore his sweet girl and lift your chin to take in the entirety of your innocence, the privilege of being innocent and naive having been fed to you with a silver spoon since you were a baby with your family’s fortune.
Your education didn’t span too far, it was done under the assumption that you’d be protected from the roughness of the world, the riff-raff. And though Elvis was a fair match monetarily-wise to your parents and the people you were raised around,with enough money to keep you as far away from the world’s roughness as possible, he was still considered to be in that riff-raff crowd.
Oh, what a shame for your family and the rest of your upper-class culture to have a rare purity, like you whisked away from your family made up of good breeding and a pure bloodline by a man like Elvis who would screw it all up when he one day planted his seed into your womb, making your once purebred French bloodline his own as he mixed himself into the history of your DNA to make a child that you will carry for months.
A child you will love to no end while your ancestors roll over in their graves.
Just the thought of it all made Elvis giddy.
His smile is cheeky as he grabs one of your nervous hands to soothe you while also keeping a grip on your chin with his other hand, his voice is breathy from speaking through a laugh,
“Now don’t let me lose ya, still got some splainin’ to do”
You can’t help but continue to duck your head away into your shoulder to hide your embarrassment, till Elvis pulls you out of it with his sweet little nickname for you,
“C’mon now Bubbles, need ya to keep listenin’ f’me”
You look up to meet those dark blues of Elvis’ that pierce with a strange softness.
“To seal the marriage a man plants his seed in a woman, and from then on he has to take care of that woman, that’s good husbandry. That’s part of what happens on a honeymoon. Understand?”
You nod slowly, and mumble a soft, “I understand”, before laying yourself down on Elvis, making yourself comfortable as you lay your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso, somehow squeezing their way between Elvis' frame and the mattress.
Marriage seemed scary. Ever since you had gotten engaged to Elvis you felt a different weight begin to fall on your shoulders. And though you were excited to marry Elvis, you couldn’t help but remember how your mother described marriage to be with your father.
As Elvis dragged his hands along your body tracing every poke of a bone through your skin he closed his eyes, showing his affection through the action, you thought back to how marriage was represented to you as a little girl.
There were nights when your father stayed late for work that you’d sit on the floor between your mother's legs as she sat on the sofa, by then she would be nursing her 4th glass of wine that night, and let her braid your hair before bed.
You’d whimper softly as her diamond-littered gaudy engagement ring, which was comparable to the one you now owned, would catch on some strands of your hair. But you wouldn’t voice any complaint as she was too busy voicing her own, complaining to an 8-year-old you about your father’s “wandering eye”, how he loves work more than he loves his family, and that he can’t even function without a pill, in what sense she meant “function” you’d never know, because you only saw your father as a personal superhero. The man who would bring gifts like Santa, the man who would read you to bed on the rare nights he could, the man who held the whole world in his hand every time he held you.
You didn’t recognize the man your mother would drunkenly describe. And soon after you wouldn’t recognize your own mother as she would break into tears and talk about how it’s her fault, and that she knows it all falls on her to make the marriage work, she just needs to try harder.
You’d caress her knee and try to soothe the adult, “It’s okay Mommy”, while mustering up the courage to promise her that, “It’ll be okay”
And then at the end of the night, she would turn you around and slur with as much affection as she could muster,
“Always tend to your husband Sweetie, don’t make a prude of yourself like me, don’t make a nagging wife, be pleasant and pliant and you’ll be a happy wife”
Of course you weren’t married yet, and that might’ve been what was causing you to be such a worrywart, because you were scared of the unknown. That’s why you’ve been trying your best to find ways to start the marriage off in the best way possible.
But you now had a whole other thing to worry about perfecting, husbandry. 
It would all work out though, as long as you heed your mother’s words and be a pleasant, pliant wife, you’ll be just fine, and you’re confident that Elvis would never turn out to be the kind of husband that your mother described your father to be.
You mumbled into the fabric of Elvis’ shirt,
“How does a man plant his seed in a woman?”
Elvis’ hands came to a halt at your words. He thought he’d gone over this kind of thing with you before, then again there was never much need to. You never prodded for more than you were given, because you were simply unaware there was more you could get out of the pleasures of your body.
Elvis stared down at the top of your head as you kept your cheek resting on his chest, he realized how abstract your thoughts must’ve been compared to his within your relationship. He had spent countless nights holding himself back from making you his completely, there were so many times he easily could’ve done so. So many times you put yourself in the position to be vulnerable to the disgusting thought of a man who knew the pleasures you could give.
Had Elvis been a different man he would’ve done so by now, taken you shamelessly and left you crumpled on the floor next to your crumpled up clothes.
But he’d be reigned back by the thought that God wouldn’t make something like you, something so pure and holy, for sin. Had Elvis not been a god-fearing man he would’ve had his way with you.
All those nights he spent eating you out, listening to you finally break that voice box of yours in, the only thing he’d thought about was how much louder you would be when he could finally fuck you, meanwhile you thought that the sensation guided by Elvis’ tongue that momentarily blinded you was as good as it got, was as close as you’d get to God.
Oh Elvis could show you so much more, teach you so much more, touch you so much more. And as shameful as it is, he’d be a liar if he said that the fact that he wanted to be the one deflower you didn’t play a role in your engagement.
“I could show ya how it’s done Honey, would ya be alright with that? It’s a little different from anything we’ve ever done”
You sat up on his lap and nodded as you kept a hand to support yourself up on his stomach. He basked in the sight of you with a small smile, digging his hands through your hair like roots in the dirt, so deep and entangled it could be hard to tell where your hair began and his hands ended.
It wasn’t at all painful in the way your mother’s hands used to rest in your hair during her drunken stupor.
It was gentle as Elvis always was.
He used a gentle force to pull you close enough for him to press a kiss to your forehead for a moment and hold it there, you closed your eyes and let out a breath, any stiff stress in your body leaving at the touch of Elvis’ lips.
He pulled away, lips and hands.
“Lay down Baby”
Elvis patted your side of the bed and you quickly laid down as you usually would, and with a quick fwip of his hips Elvis’ knees rested just outside your thighs, his entire body hovering above yours as he reached over to your nightstand.
You heard the clink of glass, no doubt the two glass figurines you’d had since you were a child, your voice was soft but panicked as you felt a pang of protectiveness over your childhood trinkets.
“W-What are you doing?”
His response was immediate as he knew your sentimental feelings toward your figurines,
“It’s alright Honey, jus’ turnin’ Dottie and Lottie around”
“Oh.”
You let out a sigh of relief before having a blush spread like a wildfire in the summer across your cheeks. When Elvis had first touched you, you felt the need to turn your glass figurines Dolores and Charlotte, also known as Dottie and Lottie, around before he could continue any further. When he asked you why you could only mumble a quiet explanation about wanting to preserve their innocence. Elvis didn’t mind the strange gesture, he thought it was rather cute actually, it was something so girlish and sweet, something he’d never think of, it further instituted that you really were an endearing little girl.
And ever since then anytime Elvis touched you, he’d always turn your figurines toward the wall for you. And him doing it now meant that to plant his seed in you, he had to touch you.
You close your eyes as you relax into the mattress completely, and feel a shift in the bed then the cold air began to linger up your nightie, or rather Elvis made your nightie linger up your skin, giving way for him to view the cutely contrasting color of your pastel yellow panties to your pastel blue short satin nightie.
As the bed shifted a little more you allowed Elvis to part your legs so he could slide off the piece of fabric, his hands caressing the skin of your ankles a few seconds longer than the rest of your leg, and then he intricately removed your panties off your feet he laid them on the outside of your thigh, within arm's length.
You assumed what you’d be feeling next was what you always felt whenever he touched you, those calloused fingers of his walking their way up your thighs as he made himself comfortable right between the two limbs, his mouth and nose inches away from that bundle of nerves that he so lovingly explained was the bud of your little rose. 
His fingers would then drift down to what he called the petals of your rose, separating them gently, exposing your hole to the cold air of the room making you shiver like the scared little girl you were as he did so. But he liked it, liked how visceral all your reactions were from your inexperience.
Only this time, you’d been wrong as you heard the familiar shink of his belt, and as if you were a trained dog and his belt were a clicker, your eyes shot open as you knew what that sound meant. It meant you got to do the touching, but, why were your panties off if you were doing the touching?
As you sat up you saw Elvis shucking his pants and boxers down, you watched with a blush as you saw his dick, it wasn’t yet completely hard, it more so at half-staff if anything, with that it maintained enough loose skin so that the usual image of his veins bulging profusely through the thin skin was not a sight you’d yet see, but you could change that.
As you sat up with your legs still spread enough so that Elvis once he was free of his pants was able to swiftly kneel between them. You leaned forward with an eager hand but Elvis had caught your wrist before you’d made it to your target, you batted your eyelashes up at him in confusion.
“Elvis?”
He had a crooked smile on his lips and asked, “Don’t ya remember what ya gotta do first? C’mon Hon we’ve been over this a dozen times”. You had to think for a moment but felt flushed with embarrassment at your own mistake.
Elvis’ eyebrow ticked upward as he caught your realization, then he slowly raised your hand up to your mouth for you to lick a stripe along it. When he didn’t immediately pull away you knew to keep lapping at the skin till Elvis saw it suitable.
His head tilted down a little as he made eye-contact with you through the cracks of your fingers, staring at you as you licked lines of wet along the lines of your palm, he was mumbling a praise or too like “There ya go”, and “Just like that”. You only shut your mouth as his free hand came up to cup your cheek and gently push you back from your hand.
With your newfound view of his cock it definitely looked less limp than before but Elvis had taught you how to get it standing, and you wanted to show him that you could. He’d been loosening the reins lately and had been giving you more independence to touch him in the way you knew he liked. But at the perfect moments he’d step in and be a helping hand, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he showed you what kind of pace he liked when his dick twitched a specific way.
It was him helping you build this muscle memory that was slowly etching its way into your brain, on the walls of your skull, and in the nerves of your hand
With the softest of groans leaving Elvis’ mouth your eyes shot up from his cock that maintained the attention of your palm, wanting to see his face, see the preview of your own triumph as you continued to stroke with the pace his hand guided yours along.
His smile was gone as his mouth twisted slightly to let out the low noise, he licked his lips quickly and tightened his hold on your hand, in turn tightening your hold on his cock as he ran your palm up and down it, your voice was hesitant and soft as you questioned, “L-Like that Elvis? I do it like that…”
He hummed an affirmation and mumbled, “Keep at it”, before pulling his hand off yours, leaning back on the bed on his palms while watching you with lowered lids, had they been any lower they would’ve been closed.
You tried shuffling yourself closer by planting your heels into the mattress and scooting yourself closer, but it was hard to focus on both things. You didn’t want to louse up what a good job you were doing, but you felt you could do better if you were just a little closer.
Elvis must’ve read your inner turmoil as he leaned off his palms and cupped the back of your knees with each hand, pulling you closer at the top of your calves where they connected with your thighs. As you continued with your strokes you noticed how close you now were, your bare pussy had never been so close to Elvis’ cock.
With the realization a strange curiosity shot through you, a kind of curiosity that had filled your senses one of the first times you’d sat on Elvis’s lap. He kept you on one knee easily, and it had been the leg that he often bounced absentmindedly, and as he easily bounced you on his leg you felt a weird sensation, and that damned curiosity of yours got the best of you subtly shifted on his leg, and suddenly the jumbling of your legs on his knee had shifted to a jumbling on a small bundle of nerves between your legs.
No you wouldn’t let your curiosity get the best of you again, you wouldn’t.
As Elvis pulled his hands away from your legs he leaned back on one palm and the other he reached forward to rub that very bundle of nerves you’d just been thinking of about. Just the slightest bit of force made your body react with what could be described as a convulsion as you breathed out a noise of surprise.
Elvis’ almost dazed look on his face didn’t shift as he glided his calloused thumb down between your folds, scooping up whatever was beginning to wet them, then using it as a lubricant to give your clit a good rub down, his facial expression unwavering as he watched you twitch and struggle to focus on doing a good job.
His voice was low and almost sounded slurred as he mumbled,
“Now this is hard ain’t it Honey? Tryin’ to pleasure each other at the same time?”
Your face shrunk and your lip quivered as you tried to maintain that you wouldn’t break under the sensations of it all, wanting to do good.
Upon gaining no answer Elvis’ eyes glazed up to meet yours, they now shifted to sympathy as he reassured you gently with little circles of his thumb around your bud,
“It’s alright Baby, I know it. I know it’s hard, that’s why through marriage a man can plant his seed in a woman, makes it easier y’know? A man can help you while he helps himself, ya shouldn’t have t’be doin’ work Honey”
You don’t know when you started nodding along to his words, you hardly understood them, but the way his eyebrows arched, the way his lips curled, the way his voice drew out, he seemed like he knew everything in the world. He was so in his element that you wouldn’t question it if he told you a cat were a dog.
But you had to ask, through your soft pants and whimpers, “H-how?” How was it possible to both be pleasured at the same time? How was it possible for both of you to reach that special spot just between the earth and the heavens where all felt impossibly right?
Elvis’ lips grew to a smirk once more as he removed his thumb from your clit and his hand wrapped around yours to pull you away. As you looked down you saw that familiar sight, that thin skin stretched out to show that long vein that started at the side of his dick and traveled down the center.
His other hand ran up your calf, to your thigh just to rest on your stomach, still covered by the top of your satin nightie, and with a firm force and a, “Lie back f’me” you were laid down on the bed with your legs spread.
He spread them a little further, and you watched as best you could while still laying down, craning your neck painfully to see what he was doing as he made a ring out of his thumb and index finger.
Elvis’ eyes met with yours, making sure you were watching before lining the tip of his cock up with the little makeshift hole he made of his fingers for demonstration.
“When a man plants his seed, he fills you with himself. This right here,” He lifted the little ring he’d made of two fingers, “This is like that little hole between your petals, so what I’m gonna do is fill it just slightly,” he slid the ring over the tip of his cock, leaving you to watch with a mouth slightly agape as his movement stretches the foreskin.
It’s not like when you stroke him though, he stops much too short, and doesn’t even go near the base of his cock, he ends at the base of the tip only.
“Now, this much is just till the wedding Hon. We can only do just the tippy top Baby, can’t break ya in just yet, we gotta wait till we’re unified under God to make that kinda connection-”
“...cause it’s special”
Elvis looked up at you, surprised to hear your soft voice so suddenly, it seems the words left your mouth with a little thoughtful pout. God, let this man hold back today. Let him be graceful and kind to his babylove, Elvis thought to himself as he smiled softly and hummed, 
“Yes it is sweet girl, it’s somethin’ special”
As a moment of sweet silence filled the air the two of you made eye contact, you smiled, feeling unsure of what was to come, he smiled back knowingly.
“Are ya ready Babylove?”
You bit your lower lip nervously and could only nod with trusting eyes. Elvis’ figure suddenly shut out most of the light from the ceiling as he supported his body above yours with one hand while he used his other to line up the tip of his cock.
You let out a shaky breath as he parted your fold with the tip of his cock before running it along your leaking slit. From the bottom up past the top till he hit that bundle of nerves that he could find with a blindfold. You squeaked softly at the bit of force he was using to circle your clit with his cock.
Elvis swore he’d do everything with you in mind, but as he watched the way your big eyes would crinkle to little bouts of eyelid folds and as he saw the way your lip quiver with every squeak and breath you let out, he couldn’t help himself but gauge your reaction to a little something.
Your breaths came out one by one in panic as you suddenly felt the tip of his cock begin to bat around your little bundle of nerves from the top, from side to side, even attacking from the bottom. Your eyes shot open from their little crinkles of stress and just before you could open your mouth his little batting around of your sensitive bud turned to slowed drawn out circles rubbing along the edge.
“That feels good huh Honey? It’s gonna get even better, just need ya to relax. Uh huh, that’s good, you’re doin’ good”
You relaxed into it, your jaw falling slack and your breaths coming out shallow. As you sank into that warmth that always accompanied Elvis’ gentle touch, Elvis pulled his neck back slightly to get a better look at your hole, with your folds parted he had a perfect view if he could look past his cock. He craned his neck a little to the left and found the target, wide open from your relaxed state, he licked his thumb to lubricate it and like a veteran, he navigated his cock down and at the forefront of it as his thumb took its place and pace in circling your clit, had you not been watching through lidded eyes you wouldn’t have even noticed.
“Here it come Baby, here it come”
Elvis couldn’t even look at you to gauge your reaction as his head fell back immediately as he was engulfed by your heat. Somewhere in the distance he heard a high-pitched noise but he was too high on the feeling- No, the knowledge that the first thing to fill you, to really fill you was his uncut cock’s head.
He breathed out to the ceiling, or rather to the Lord,
“Fuck…”
How could a feeling like this fill his mind, body, and soul from just the tip going in. Shit if he hadn’t already proposed to you he would do it now, just so he could one day feel the full effect of your body on his.
And then he finally peered down at you, and you were a sight to behold. He hadn’t been with a virgin in a long time, and the ones he had been with, you made them look like the most experienced girls in the world.
Your face was crumpled and your clenched fist was brought up to your mouth, you bit down so hard on your knuckles Elvis could see the skin losing its color around your little teeth. His hand slid down to your hip, running along the skin soothingly, as he hummed out, “Relax, it’s alright, just relax”
You nodded and pulled your fist from your mouth to show you were relaxing, but as your lower lip trembled Elvis could only softly remind, “Relax…”
And after a few moments of Elvis running his hands along your hips you spoke in an unsure whisper, “I-Is that it?”, Elvis sighed with a smile, “No Hon, don’t worry, but I can’t show ya the rest till ya relax, alright?” Elvis could feel you tightly around him, if he tried to pull the head of his cock back out he’d hurt you, he knew that.
"I-I am relaxed"
“No ya not Babylove”
You sighed softly, feeling a bit frustrated, this wasn’t what you thought it would be, it hurt. And it was obvious that you weren’t acting in the most pleasing way, so you lied through your teeth with a bit of an edge to your quiet words, “I’m relaxed.”
Elvis’ soft smile fell slightly at the tone of voice, and his eyebrows rose as he stared down at you, only now you avoided eye contact and opted to look at the wall. You tried to focus on the paint of the wall as best you can but it was thrown out the door as you felt a painful pull.
You whined at the feeling, and watched as Elvis pulled out, now you attempted to look him in the eye but he didn’t even spare you a glance as he muttered before lining himself up again, “Call that fuckin’ relaxed? If you’re so relaxed it should be easy goin’ back in”
Before you could voice an apology he’d already shoved the tip back in. It was much rougher than the first time he had put it in, it had you release a loud whimper and kick your feet, your heels pushing you away from his body, but his hips only chased further.
And those hands that were soothingly rubbing along your hips earlier now had them in a bruising grip to keep you from moving.
“Said ya relaxed, so fuckin’ act like it-”
Elvis let out a low groan as he stroked his cock while your little hole contracted from the stress of it all, it was like you were trying to swallow him, trying to suck him down into you. Almost like your body knew you needed his seed. And had he been a different man, or more accurately, had you been a different girl, he would’ve given it to you without shame. But you were different, you were special, you made this special.
He pulled out once more just to push back in, and then he repeated with no time in between, leaving you gasping at the rough push and pull of his cock head and whining at it, before blubbering out a series of apologies to him.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, ‘m not relaxed..! I-It hurts Elvis..!”
He’d ignored your apologies, but the way you said his name, like he could solve all your problems while also causing all of them, it was like you had this type of innocence. A pure innocence that no matter the pain he’d cause you, you’d still love him. Like if he kicked you, you’d come running right back.
Elvis stopped himself from pulling out once more and stared down at you, his grip released and one of his hands cupped your cheek and rested a thumb at the corner of your eye just before your temple, ready to catch a tear in case those teary eyes of yours spill over.
You stared up at him with a frown and pulled your hands to rest nervously on your stomach, feeling a sudden sense of awkwardness mixed with discomfort at the idea of Elvis being upset with you. But instead he seemed to sympathize with you,
“Now you see, ya gotta listen to me Babylove. I don’t expect much from ya, all I expect is honesty, now, be honest and let me know when you relax.”
You let out a shaky breath and soft noise as Elvis’ thumb landed back on your clit, beginning to rub those circles that make your hips twist a little from instinct. Elvis’ lips had been on yours in the blink of an eye, but his kiss was deep and slow, it wasn’t like when he’d kiss you so hard and so fast that your teeth knocked against his. Instead you felt his tongue explore each and every inch of your mouth carefully, could feel the way his tongue swiped along the small space between your lower gums and teeth.
His nose lightly grazed against the start of your cheek as he tilted his head to get a different angle. 
And in what would be one of the only moments for you to catch your breath within the kiss, you managed to breath out, “‘M ready”
It was a different kind of tug due to the efforts of the both of you. You were relaxed and open and Elvis was only rocking back and forth into you, no complete pulling, you couldn’t handle that yet.
With each rock of his hips, you let out a little breath or squeak. For a moment you lost focus as you watched the way Elvis used the thumb on one hand to stroke your little bud while using his other hand to stroke himself, but you were pulled back into your moment with Elvis as he groaned lowly, followed by a groan that sounded a bit more throaty. He was close.
And knowing that it was because he was in you made you feel a sense of excitement, and sense of sexuality, realizing you could make a man feel this way by doing nothing but laying there like a pliant doll.
Be a pliant wife. Your mother was right.
Your hips dragged upward slightly, crashing into his hips that were rocking down into you, the collision of skin made you moan softly as your manicured nails reached for the sheets, one hand gripped them brutally while your other hand ended up in Elvis' hair, not gripping, only carding through the dark strands.
“E-Elvis, it’s- I’m…”
You couldn’t describe it, what was coming, but thankfully you didn’t have to as he mumbled into your lips,
“I know Baby, I know. It’s comin’ f’me to, comin’ fast Babylove- H-how’s it comin’ for you?”
As the upward grind of your hips turned to little upward thrusts that your feet could manage on the slippery sheets of the bed you could hardly choke out a word as his thumb had entertained that warmth just below your stomach for too long, it’d been teased and tugged along far too long from the rubbing of his thumb on your little bundle of nerves that at its peaking point, it snapped, leaving you to try and choke out the words,
“It- I- It’s-”
As your mouth remained agape but your voice fell silent, and those pitiful attempts at thrusts of yours fell back to wishful grinds of your hips. Elvis thanked the Lord, he’d been trying his best to hold on for you, to slow his rocking when he felt himself get a little too close, he’d been edging himself almost the entire time for you.
And now as he pulled out and continued to stroke his cock with one hand, the hand previously fondling your clit reached for the pair of panties he laid aside so long ago.
As you caught your breath you watched as Elvis’ hand stroked twice, thrice, four more times along his length before he buried his cock in your crumpled up panties, letting his head fall back and a guttural moan fill the room as he reached his peak.
After a few moments of silence accompanied by the pants of the both of you Elvis removed the metal ring holding his short ascot scarf together at the center of his neck, you heard a clink as he tossed it somewhere on the wood floor, then you watched as the fabric got closer to your face, closing your eyes at the contact you could feel Elvis wiping away the dampness building on your head and cheeks from the heat what you just experienced. As the feeling left you watched as he wiped his own face off before bringing the satin scarf down to your petals, wiping off the proof of your pleasure from your pussy’s lips then wiping off your thighs that happened to be the victims of the heated juices that spread through your body which were shoveled out from the earlier pulls of Elvis’ cock’s head.
After Elvis caught his breath and pulled the panties away from his cock to see his work, then he flipped it toward you, and you saw that familiar white liquid that Elvis told you was a reward for your hard work.
“When we get married and I fill you with my seed, this is what I’ll be fillin’ ya with, I promise…”
Your eyes were lidded and tired, but full of love as you took in the sight of your fiancé, his once perfectly coiffed hair now ruffled, you could see sweat stains forming on the blue silk shirt he didn’t bother to take off before starting, and those eyelashes of his must’ve been batting so much as he now had a stray on his cheek, he must’ve missed it with his scarf.
As Elvis prepped your reward, scraping it off the pastel fabric with a finger you parted your lips, and as he finger-fed you his seed you accepted the finger into your mouth, closing your lips around it as you sucked it clean. “Atta girl, did so well” 
Your own little finger guided up his cheek to swipe the eyelash off his cheek, he watched with confusion at the way you smiled around his finger, then you flipped your finger around to show him.
As he crawled over your body to lay down beside you, removing his finger in the process you spoke with a bit of hoarseness, “Make a wish”
Elvis smiled fondly and put a hand over your thigh, “You can have this one Babylove”
You smiled before checking once more, “Are you sure?”
He wanted to laugh at how serious you were taking it all, and with a gentle rub of his hand he reassured, “I’m sure Honey, I’m sure”
You smiled down at the little eyelash resting on the middle of your index finger. And you wished for all that you could want, you wished for a happy marriage.
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I had so much fun!! I really liked writing this, and I'm so happy I've had requests to write this character to the point I can turn it into a whole au!! hope you liked it.
If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this au feel free to just comment or message me!
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@fadedsummerlove, @lialocklear, @astral-eyed-cat here it is lovelies
597 notes · View notes
wanderingelvis · 3 months
Note
Omggg cg!Elvis x littleF!reader who’s sick and keeps slipping into littlespace cuz of how sick she is so he takes care of her despite the possibility of him getting sick? 🥺
Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you like it <3
🧚 Masterlist 🧚
Word count: 2,135
Pairing: Early 70's CG!Elvis x Little F!Reader
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Oh Lord, you were trying so hard, so so hard to be a big girl.
You knew that Elvis had so much on his schedule, the Colonel was working him and you too by default. You'd been on the road with Elvis, helping out where you could like the good little girlfriend you were, but it had become all a bit too much and you had caught some sort of bug that was making you feel all kinds of miserable.
And when you were ill, well, that was the most sure fire way for you to slip into little space. You just weren't very good at being independent and coping with the overwhelming and horrible feelings you were having.
But you were trying, you really, really were. You didn't want to interfere with the schedule, Elvis had a lot on his mind and you'd be damned to cross paths with the Colonel when there was so much money to be made. Even when you were feeling your best, you still didn't like to even be in the same room as the Colonel.
All morning you'd felt achey, sore and tingly all over with a fever creeping in. Naturally, you'd been quieter than usual, trying to stop yourself from slipping but it was becoming inevitable.
Your body just wasn't strong enough and you felt exhausted and vulnerable as you sat in Elvis' dressing room as he did a run-through of his show tonight.
You'd found a spare blanket and you were curled up in the corner of the large couch as members of staff and the Memphis Mafia alike walked past you, a few giving concerned looks your way, in particular, Red, who watched as you rested your head on your arms and closed your eyes.
See, being in the state that you were in meant that you had absolutely no concept of time and when you were woken from the light slumber you were in, you had no idea how long you'd been asleep for.
"Baby?" That familiar deep, Southern voice hushed, laced with concern as your eyes sleepily opened, staring up at Elvis who was studying your state with worry on his face after Red had told him that you seemed unusually low today.
You blinked adorably up at him and if you weren't so apparently sick, Elvis would do the most unspeakable things to you.
Elvis sighed, realising how wiped and sick you were as he put the back of his coarse hand on your forehead to check your temperature, which was far too high for his liking.
You couldn't bring yourself to speak, you felt all achey and sore and your head was just so fuzzy that you were pretty much ready to let tears spill down your cheeks.
And Elvis could tell. He'd been with you for long enough now to know your little space 'tells'. You'd go non-verbal, your eyes would get all big and round and glossy, because even after all this time, you still got nervous about being little in front of Elvis - a fact that Elvis actually thought was very sweet and endearing. You'd start chewing on something too, whether it was your toy stuffy, your lip or your fingers, you'd chew on something as you tried to get all your thoughts in order. And there you were, chewing on your lip as you trembled from the fever.
"Oh little one, you ain't feelin' too good huh?" Elvis cooed, to which you shook your head ever so slightly. "Oh baby. Need me to look after you, princess?" Elvis asked as you pushed yourself up feebly, the blanket pooling by your waist as you nodded and rubbed your eyes sweetly.
Effortlessly, Elvis scooped you up in his big, strong arms and your head automatically went to rest on his shoulder as you began to chew on your fingers anxiously, wanting this horrible feeling to go away.
"Y/N is comin' down with somethin' nasty, I'm gon' take care of her, let everyone know they can go home, I ain't leavin' her today." Elvis said to Jerry before he carried you to his private elevator that took him right to the suite that the two of you shared at the top of the International.
As soon as the doors closed, Elvis began to rock you gently. "Gon' get you undressed baby, take off all yer clothes and get you in the tub, give you some medicine that's gon' make you feel all good n'better then we're gon' get you into bed to rest n' take it easy. How does that sound pretty girl?" Elvis soothed.
You nodded into his shoulder, feeling vulnerable and weak as he held you tightly, you couldn't help but let out a couple of sniffles too.
"Little one, d'ya think you can use your words f'me?" Elvis said. He knew you'd go non-verbal whenever you were feeling overwhelmed and little, and usually he wouldn't push you, but when you were feeling little and sick, he needed to know that you could still understand what he was saying and there wasn't anything more serious that was underlying.
"J-Just, don't feel good Daddy." You whimpered and oh if Elvis' heart hadn't broken in two when he first saw you on that couch, it certainly had now.
The name that you'd just called him was definitive confirmation that you were deep in little space and you needed to be treated as delicately as possible.
"I know baby, I know you don't, Daddy's gon' take care of you." Elvis promised, kissing the top of your head as you got out of the elevator into the suite.
Elvis wasted no time in taking you straight to the bathroom, sitting you atop the bathroom the counter as he rolled up the sleeves on his blue silk shirt, one that you'd actually picked out for him because you thought he would look "extra pretty" in it and began to run the bathtub full of warm water for you. He then went through the bathroom cabinet, through the one that held all of the medicines you may need for any particular reason, before he found the right one for your fever and chills.
"Now, you gotta be a brave girl f'me, I know this don't taste too good baby, but it's gon' help make you better, 'kay?" Elvis said as he poured the medicine onto a spoon, ready to feed you as you watched on, grimacing a bit, you hated having to take medicine.
"I don't wanna..." You practically whispered.
"Darlin', I know it ain't nice, but you gotta take it like a good girl, can you do that fr'me?" Elvis said, his tone becoming a little sterner than before, you taking your medicine is not something he was going to compromise on.
You nodded but not without small tears forming, making Elvis feel quietly guilty, he wished that it was him that was sick, he'd give anything to swap places with you. It really did pain him to see you in this state.
"Okay, open them pretty lips fr'me angel, just like that, good." Elvis encouraged as he fed you the spoon with the medicine.
He used his pointer finger on his other hand to poke just under your jaw ever so slightly to close your mouth around the spoon. "Good." He hissed, nodding in approval at how good you were being.
Slowly, he took the spoon out of your mouth as he studied your face, your eyes staring up at him as your nose scrunched up at the sour tasting medicine.
"Baby, that medicine ain't gon' do a damn thing stuck in your mouth like that." Elvis half-heartedly chuckled, knowing you were being a little too stubborn for your own good. "Swallow." He commanded gently.
And, like the good girl you were, you did just that - although with a grimace on your sweet little face the entire time.
"Good girl." Elvis praised softly, as he began to take off your clothes for your bath.
You watched as his coarse, ring-clad hands traced your skin, causing shivers to travel through your already sensitive skin. Elvis hushed you reassuringly, saying sweet nothings to reassure you that you were okay, that he was your Daddy and he was going to make you better, and you believed him.
After you were fully undressed and after Elvis checked the water temperature, Elvis helped you into the tub where you instantly loved the sensation of the hot water on your shivering skin.
"Does my little girl like that?" Elvis smiled warmly as he watched you smile for the first time today, even if it was only a small one.
You nodded as you brought your knees to your chest to rest your head on your knees, your head tilted so you could watch your Daddy.
Elvis grabbed a loofah and took to gently washing you, getting you all soapy and lathered up in the suds as he watched you practically preen in delight at his touch.
"Bein' such a good girl fr' Daddy, ain'tcha?" Elvis soothed.
"Yes Daddy." You said sweetly, your eyes closed in bliss as Elvis continued to wash you all over.
"That's right, that's my girl." Elvis praised as he held out one of your arms to wash it, as if you were some sort of a doll for him to move as he pleased. You were so malleable and so sweet and Elvis loved nothing more than to take care of you.
When Elvis was done washing you, he scooped you up out of the tub and wrapped you up in a fluffy towel, holding you tightly and peppering you in kisses, eliciting a few soft giggles from you.
He knew you were feeling little, you were so overwhelmed and he knew the last week had taken it's toll on you. You were a little people pleaser, so much so, that you'd taken on much more than sweet, little you could manage. You would comply to anyones request and you'd caused yourself to become burnt out and Elvis couldn't help but feel responsible for not stepping in sooner - even if he knew that if he had stepped in, you would've begged him to let you help out as much as possible because you were just a little angel sent from heaven. Elvis quickly got you dressed into your favourite pyjamas that you wore when you were feeling little. They had cartoon horses on them and you'd adorably named each one, one morning whilst Elvis was reading his paper and drinking his morning coffee.
He took special care as he dressed you, mindful that your body was still tender and sore.
As Elvis led you to your bed, you began to feel all drowsy and achey again, making you extra clingy and needy with Elvis, but he secretly didn't mind.
Elvis tucked you up in bed and placed your stuffed bunny in your little grasp, smoothing back your hair that had fallen in front of your face.
After placing a kiss atop of your head, Elvis began to make his way from the bedroom to let you sleep before he heard a whine come from your lips.
"Oh honey, what's the matter?" Elvis cooed, making his way back to the bed before you reached out your arms wide and made grabby hands at Elvis, making him chuckle ever so.
"Daddy, stay," You whimpered. You were not in any fit state to not be close to Elvis. "Don't go, need you." You mumbled cutely.
Elvis smirked as he began to remove his shoes and get atop the bed, next to you, placing one arm across the pillows where your head rested so that you were able to slot into his side and snuggle into him as you clasped onto your stuffed bunny too.
"I ain't goin' anywhere baby, now rest your eyes honey, you need to get your strength back little one." Elvis instructed, his fingers running through your hair, sending shivers through you as you let your eyes close.
Elvis continued to play with your hair as he reached over to his bed-side table with his other hand and grab the telephone.
"Jer? Yeah, Jer, tell the Colonel to tell whoever needs to know that the show ain't happenin' tonight, reschedule, cancel, I don't care. I gotta take care of Y/N, ain't no way I'm leavin' her tonight, not in the state she's in. Okay. Thanks Jer." Elvis said into the receiver before putting it down again.
You couldn't help but feel bad as you nestled into Elvis' side. "Daddy?" You said meekly.
"Yes baby?"
"You don't got to cancel your show Daddy." You said softly, your big eyes looking up at his blue ones.
"Little one, I ain't ever wanna do a show if you ain't in the crowd." Elvis said firmly and you knew he wasn't going to budge on the matter - and with that you drifted off in the arms of your Daddy.
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midnightaire · 3 months
Text
🎀 All dolled up 🎀
- ONE SHOT -
Elvis Presley x Innocent!OC
Summary: Marie has never liked being treated like a doll or like a baby, but when Elvis does it…
warnings: angsty, fluff, kinda toxic!elvis, takes place in the 70s, age gap (21 & 40) although not implied/mentioned, OC is religious, implied smut (not sex), mentions of elvis persuading OC that certain things aren’t against her religion.
note: this is my first time ever writing so any tips are very welcome, let me know what you think! (And if i missed anything in the warnings 🥰)
layout inspired by @yourfavoritedreamgirlblog
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When Elvis goes to Vegas, Marie always stays at home. Its not because she doesn’t want to go with him, but because he asked her to keep the home fires warm. And if there’s anything you should know about Marie, especially if you’ve known her for years, is that she’ll always do what Elvis tells her to do.
So even if she’ll miss him terribly every time, Marie always stays home. Besides, its not all that bad. She gets to cook and hang out with Nancy, read Elvis’ books even though the words are sometimes hard to understand, and Marie ends up asking Nancy what they mean. The big house, all to herself, it makes her feel like royalty sometimes, but then she giggles to herself at that thought.
Being “alone” in Graceland also gives her time, to think. There’s a lot Marie thinks about when she’s alone, but first and foremost her family, and the horrible childhood she had. Once that thought has crosses she always thinks about how lucky she is to have Elvis, he protects her, and provides for her. But ofcourse Marie already knows how lucky she is, how could one not?
It often consumes her with guilt, how quickly she can forget about her family and the life she had before elvis, when she’s around him. On that thought, Marie picks up the phone and spins the number of her parent’s home phone, she hasn’t talked to them since she ran away to be with Elvis. Another instruction she followed, “Come stay with me permanently.”
Now this instruction Marie doubted to follow at first, her parents being strictly religious, and Marie herself being raised like that, she wondered if it would be wise. I mean, surely that would mean she would be committing sins with Elvis, what else could it mean? But Marie made sure she wouldn’t do ungodly things with him, and Elvis respecting her religion, he never made a move to have sex with her. But that didn’t mean Elvis didn’t convince Marie that certain other things were alright in the eyes of god.
When the telephone finally gets picked up after a few dials, Marie quickly snaps out of her thoughts. “Hello?”, it was her mother that answered the phone, and that made Marie so much more nervous. “Hi mama, its me, Marie.”
“You useless ungodly child! Calling after all this time? Your father was worried sick about you until we read in the papers that you were with that disgrace of a man. Elvis Presley.” She says his name with such disappointment, and Marie doesn’t understand it. Elvis isn’t disgraceful, he is actually filled with grace from the lord himself, and he is a very kind man.
“I’m sorry mama i-“, Marie gets cut off by her mother, “We never want to hear your voice again, and we never want to see you again.” And before Marie could get another word in, her mother had hung up. It wasn’t long until tears started rolling down Marie’s cheeks, and sobs left her lips. Deciding she wanted the comfort of Elvis’ voice, she spins the number she was given for when he was in Vegas. She was always in direct line to him, so she was certain he would pick up the phone. But to Marie’s greatest surprise, it wasn’t Elvis’ voice that she heard after the phone was answered, it was Jerry’s. And no offense to Jerry ofcourse, but Marie was confused. Elvis always picked up the phone when she called. She was in direct line.
“Hi Jerry, Can i speak to Elvis please?” She asked, evidence of crying sounding in her wobbly voice. “Hello Marie, Elvis isn’t available at this time, should i leave a message?” Not available? Marie was sure Elvis didn’t have a show or a party, so why on earth wouldn’t he be available. “No thats alright Jerry, its nothing important.” After saying her goodbye to Jerry and laughing to a joke that she didn’t realize was a dirty one, Marie hung up the phone. Later that night Elvis called, but by then Marie already convinced herself that she was overreacting.
After Elvis returned home from his weeks in Vegas, time was mostly spent preparing for his tour. Elvis and Marie digging through her closet to find the perfect clothes for her to wear, and every time Marie picked an outfit, it was denied by Elvis. That endless cycle continued until the suitcase was filled with clothes Elvis approved of.
When Marie carried her luggage downstairs, red quickly stepped in, “a pretty little girl like you shouldn’t have to carry such heavy things, hm?” And Marie just agreed and let Red take her suitcase.
Marie went down to the Jungle room, where the Memphis mafia including Elvis, and their wives were hanging out. She brought down a Shasta Black Cherry for Elvis, and handed that to him before she was pulled to sit onto his leg, sideways. Conversations continued after that, and Marie tried to keep up with all the jokes, asking Elvis what they meant but he just shrugged and said “not something for you to worry your pretty head about.”
The conversations and laughter continued until Red spoke up, “Marie, Doll, can you please pour me a whiskey?” The silence after that didn’t last long, as Elvis started yelling at Red for speaking to her like that, and most of all, calling her doll.
“Oh its fine, i don’t mind, and i’ll pour Red a whiskey if thats what he wants.” Ever the people pleaser, Marie tried to step in and calm down Elvis, but he wouldn’t have it. “He can use his own goddamn hands!” Minutes after that, Red poured his own whiskey, and everyone continued as they were, meanwhile Elvis held Marie much tighter than before. Meanwhile Marie was trying to keep her tears at bay, she had always been an extremely sensitive girl, and she never liked it when people were angry and yelled. Especially when it was Elvis. Even though it wasn’t directed at Marie, she still didn’t like it, but she didn’t want to be seen as a cry-baby so she never mentioned it. Jennifer, or Jenny as Marie called her, reached out to hand Marie a magazine, so Marie lifted herself from Elvis’ lap for a moment and apologized for it when she sat back down. “Sorry for what, doll? Ain’t got nuthin’ to be sorry for.” Elvis laughed, and Marie laughed along. She did that often, apologize for things, even if they didn’t need an apology.
That night, while Elvis said goodbye to some of his guests, Marie found polaroids. Not the polaroids Elvis took of her, but polaroids he took off a different girl. Marie recognized the girl, it was Kathy, Kathy Westmoreland. She was one of Elvis’ back up singers. Tears sprung into Marie’s eyes and flowed down her cheeks once she noticed how intimate these pictures were. She confronted Elvis with her, but he assured Marie that it meant nothing, it wasn’t anything special, “i-i- i just get lonely without my girl there, s’ all.”
He sealed the deal with a small kiss, as he took off his EP ring, and attached it to a necklace, to show her that she was the only one. And Marie ate it up, like she always ate any attention up she got from Elvis.
During one of the last shows of Elvis’ tour, he kissed only Marie when he sang Love Me Tender, and whispered to her, “You look so pretty all dolled up f’me.” Marie giggled and blushed at that, Elvis could talk about shit and it would still sound sweet to Marie. After the show, she didn’t leave Elvis’ side once, practically attached by the hip to him. It isn’t like Elvis hated it though, as his arm was around Marie’s waist at all times, not once letting go.
That same night, while Elvis was taking forever in the bathroom, Marie prayed. She prayed to god, asking him if he would be kind enough to let Elvis be by her side forever and ever. And Marie never asked anything for herself, ever. As she rose from her knees by the bed, having finished prayers, she found Elvis on one knee, glancing at her nervously. “Will you marry me, doll?”
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dreamingofep · 1 month
Text
A Blue Velvet Crush
(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)
Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)
TW: Cussing, teasing, SMUTTT, fingering
Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)
Word Count: 5.4K
A/N: Hello everyone! This picture of Elvis lives rent free in my head and I knew when I first saw it, I had to write something for it.
If you've never seen some of this performance, I'd recommend watching! I'll make another post with the youtube link!
Thank you again❤️
Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.
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Mississippi, September 26th, 1956
Traffic was backed up for miles and the buzz in the air was electrifying. You couldn’t hide your nerves though. You weren’t even supposed to be here today but by the grace of God, you got thrown in the ring and had to cover today’s most important story. Elvis Presley was back in his hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi to perform a charity concert. His rise to fame seemed to happen overnight and everyone was dying to see him in person. 
You were just an intern at the Tupelo Mirror and your supervisor that was running the Elvis story got sick this morning. Eric called you at the crack of dawn, frantic that no one was going to be there to take pictures. You had only been at the newspaper for a month and a half, you didn’t want to overstep your role and be too forward, but you mentioned that you have photography experience. You ran your college photography club and were majoring in journalism. You know you can take some decent shots of him. You try to sell yourself, affirming you can do this! The whole reason you were working for the newspaper was to get a better shot of getting a job at a newspaper company after you graduated. You thought this would be the perfect way to gain the experience. And if you got some good pictures of Elvis Presley? That could change your whole life. 
You did have a fondness of the man but like, who didn’t at your age? He was the new cool guy who was causing havoc wherever he went. He was talented and had this luring sense about him. You hadn’t ever seen him in person, but based on the few televised appearances he’s made, he was beyond incredible. You knew he had a talent that no one had ever had. Your parents would always make a fuss if you were watching him and tried to make you feel bad for it. 
“No Christian boy should be moving like that! It’s abhorrent.” Your parents used to say. 
You’d just roll your eyes and grumble under your breath. Your parents didn’t understand that he was something young people could love and be fully immersed in without having to act all prim and proper about it. There was no other artist that would make you feel the way Elvis made his audiences feel. He was passionate and he felt the music to his very soul. It showed so easily he didn’t have to say he loved what he was doing. 
And now you were going to be feet away from Elvis, taking his picture and maybe even getting the chance to ask him a few questions. The cars started moving forward more and before you could get through the gates, a police officer stopped you. You rummaged through your satchel and pulled out your press pass. He quickly nodded and directed you to the portion of the lot where other photographers and press reporters were gathered. You quickly find a spot and throw your car in park. You throw your satchel over your head and grab your camera out of its bag. It wasn’t the most high-end camera but it took nice pictures. You double-checked the camera had enough film and quickly made a beeline to the stage. 
There were thousands of people here already and the buzz in the air was electric. You saw girls jumping up and down giddy that they were about to see Elvis live. You had some of the men standing next to them with a bored expression on their faces like they didn’t want to be there. You had to play it cool though. You had your press badge on and the last thing you needed was for someone to see you acting giddy when you had to be professional today. 
There was a corralled section for the press behind ropes that gave you a bit better access on the side of the stage but it was still very crowded. Not only that, but it was all men here and they were all significantly taller than you. You couldn’t see a damn thing from this area and became worried you weren’t going to be able to get one good photograph of this entire thing!
You try to push and shove your way closer to the front but just get these condescending looks toward you and don’t budge an inch for you. You didn’t expect anything less honestly, the industry was made up of men and wasn’t exactly kind to women entering the workplace. You shake it off, not letting it get to you too much. 
The audience starts screaming as the band takes their place on stage. It’s a small band with just a drummer, bassist, and guitar player. They’re all smiles when they hear the crowd go wild for them. Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage though. You want to get the first glimpse of him when he gets on this stage. 
The audience continues to grow antsy and an announcer hops on stage. He steps in front of the microphone at center stage and taps it with his finger. 
“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all are very excited to have one of our very own from Tupelo be here today. I need you to give a warm welcome to Elvis Presley.”
The crowd erupts at his name and everyone bursts out in insane excitement. You keep your eyes on the side of the stage and you raise the camera to your face, getting ready for the first shot. 
The audience gets louder and you feel the hair on your arms rise. There you see him. He’s dressed in a velvety blue long-sleeve and loose black slacks with his perfect white oxfords. His hair was greased back and looked shiny. He had his guitar on and made his way to the microphone. From this angle, he looked so tall, his legs easily gliding him across the stage. 
He carried this nervous energy about him tho. He puts his hand in his pocket and grabs the microphone with the other hand. 
Click. 
He starts Heartbreak Hotel and drives the place insane. Everyone is screaming and some girls are even crying. His voice rings out flawlessly and once he starts singing, there’s no stopping him. He can’t seem to stand still. Whether it’s the music moving him or the nerves, he is shaking and moving, making the crowd even more insane.
There are times when the screams overpower his voice coming through the microphone. He has an amused look on his face the whole time though. Especially when he swings his hips and makes the girls go bezerk. You catch yourself blushing at those moves, how he can move his hips so easily as he makes these in-passion faces. He made you feel something you’ve never felt before. It was bad, it was lust driving you to keep looking at what he was going to do next. You wanted him to move more to see just how those hips would move in other circumstances…
Click.
Fucking focus.
He wasn’t afraid to get close to his fans. It looked like he really loved them. You could tell he moved his leg just to get them going and have them look there. Or how he’d say a certain word and prolong it all sensually, it drove the place nuts. Even just the way he held the microphone and dragged it along beside him. He commanded that stage by doing the smallest things. Elvis walks slowly to the edge of the stage where dozens of fans reach out their hands for him. He gets close and reaches out his hand too, still singing and never missing a beat.
Click.
You get the side profile of him but you think it’s going to be a great picture when it develops. What you really want is a perfect picture of his face straight onto the camera. That would be a great way to solidify that you are a great photographer and can do this professionally.
Elvis finishes his set and gets rushed off stage into the building behind the arena. You follow the crowd that’s trying to get to him, hoping you can get another picture of him that’s even better than the ones you took. The other photographers aren’t paying any attention to you and push and shove their way through. You huff annoyed, hoping you can get in there before they close the doors. 
You find a spot on the side but all the men in here are so much taller and crowding Elvis. You slump by the door, frustrated that you might have ruined your big chance to prove yourself at the newspaper as you haven’t gotten a single shot of his face straight on. You wanted to the perfect shot and it seems your opportunity was wasted. 
“Alright everyone it’s time to leave. Elvis won’t be answering any more questions,” a man bellows. Most of the men try to protest but they slowly start to funnel out of the door. You continue to get pushed aside until you’re almost behind the door. You don’t move from behind there because, for a brief second, a devious idea pops into your head. 
Just stay here long enough for everyone to leave and ask for a picture when he’s alone.
Your heart pounds away at just the thought of being alone with Elvis but you had to try it. The worst he could say was no and get out. 
The last few remaining men shuffle out of the room and Elvis yells out that he’ll be right out. The door shuts closed, making your little hiding spot be exposed in plain sight. 
Elvis had his back to the door so he didn’t see you right away. You sighed in relief for that but had to work up the courage to say something to him.
What exactly should you say in this situation? ‘Hi I snuck in your dressing room even though I was told to get out, can I take a few pictures of you for the newspaper?’
You cringed just thinking about it. You took a few deep breaths and straightened out your dress.
“Umm, excuse me, Elvis?” You say sheepishly.
He turns around quickly at the sound of your voice and stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t say anything right away and neither do you because seeing him this close and in person is too much.
He is beautiful, in every shape and form, he is beautiful. You’ve never seen such a handsome-looking man before in your life and have no words. Logical thinking went out the window with him and he looks at you with the same expression on his face. You haven’t said more than four words to him but you want him. You want him to look at you and touch you and never stop. Your core flutters at that scandalous thought.
“You scared me there honey. H-how’d you get in here?” He asks with a mischievous grin forming on his face.
“W-w-well I uhhh. Well, I work for the newspaper and I was wondering if I could take a few more pictures of you?” You ask nervously. A long silence fills the room and you are about to turn on your heels and run for the door when he gives you another cheeky smile.
“Sure, I don’t mind at all. What was your name lil’ darlin’?” He asks smoothly.
Lil’ darlin’.
Jesus Christ I’m not going to make it out of here alive with all his charm suffocating me.
“Oh gosh Elvis, thank you so much. This truly means so much to me. And my name is y/n.” You tell him in a hurry. You make sure your camera is on and ready before you look back up at him watching you intently.
“Y/n… that’s very pretty…Where’d you want me, honey?” He coos.
Your heart pounds in your ears and you can’t register anything he just said. All you can do is look at him in shock and can’t believe you’re alone with him. You know how many thousands of girls would kill for a moment like this? And the question he just asked?! Ooh, the sheer audaciousness he has. He knows he's irresistable.
I'd love you to cover me in kisses with those pillowy soft lips...
“Huh?” You say in a daze.
“Where did you wanna take my picture honey? You’re the photographer and all,” he teases. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you nervously look down at your camera.
“Oh yeah… sorry… I’ve never really done this,” you admit. His eyebrows shoot up surprised, “First time? Wow, that’s somethin’ for a little lady coming here and coverin’ a story on a day like this. The whole town is making a huge fuss over me, I don’t think deserve it, but it’s very special either way. I’ll make sure to give you the best pictures,” he winks. It feels like your heart just about stopped by that one minuscule movement.
Stop that. Stop that right now!
You sweetly smile up at him and move further into the room, trying to see what angle and lighting would be best. The wall behind him was blue and you thought that would be a perfect backdrop to accentuate the velvet shirt he was wearing and his piercing blue eyes.
“Umm, let’s try with you stand there. I think that would be a nice background,” you say.
He casually takes a few steps back and puts his hands in his pockets.
“Like this?” He asks. You raise the camera to your face, make sure the frame is straight, and push the button.
Click.
He looked good without even trying. He had this golden aura about him. Like he shined from within. He was remarkable and you know that without saying much else to him. Even if you didn’t like him already, you can see the appeal. He was so easy to love. So easy to be around. Everything about him was inviting and warm. You don’t know how you were going to peel yourself away from him…
“Okay, how about one smiling?” You ask. He nods his head and gives you this cute cheeky smile.
Click.
God help me I can’t breathe with this man around looking this good.
“How are they comin’ out honey?” He asks, his southern inflection on honey making you feel like the actual word.
“Oh, just fine. I think they’re going to be amazing when printed,” you try to say casually.
“Oh good… what are you doin’ working for the newspaper?” He asks, fixing the sides of his hair with a comb.
Click.
“I don’t work for the newspaper, not yet at least. I’m just an intern. I’m a student at the University of Mississippi studying journalism and thought it would help to work there for a bit so when I graduate in two years, I can hopefully get a job at a newspaper,” you explain.
He intently looks at you, interested in everything you have to say, “That’s wonderful honey. I think that’s great you’re pursuing that. I don’t doubt for a second you won’t get a job anywhere you apply for,” he says sweetly. You can’t help but blush at his nice words and fiddle with your camera.
“Thank you, Elvis,” you say quietly. He walks over to the sofa that’s up against the wall and casually takes a seat.
He stretches out one arm along the back of the couch and the other rests on the arm of it. His legs were spread open and your eyes can’t help but stare at them. They were so long and he exuded sensuality, it nearly made you dizzy. He sees how you’re looking at him, intrigued with the man that so many found attractive.
You raise the camera to your eye once again as he looks down the lens intensely.
Click.
You felt like screaming like those girls were earlier. You’ve never felt so attracted to someone’s presence. It kind of scared you in a way. 
He moves on the sofa slightly, bringing his hand to his mouth and giving you this luring, sultry gaze.
Oh lord, I’m a dead woman…
Click.
He doesn’t change this pose after the flash goes off, he continues to sit there with his eyes drinking you in. Your body can’t take this, the tension in the room is palpable and you are seriously considering running out now since you have plenty of good shots. Elvis slowly starts to lower his hand from his mouth and you see he was biting his lip behind it this whole time. He slowly drags his teeth across it before letting it go with a pop.
“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He asks softly.
You can’t hide your flushed cheeks anymore and lower the camera from your face to see if he’s being serious. His eyes look heavy and somber, but he cracks a little grin to lighten the mood.
“Oh, no… not something I normally hear,” you say insecurely.
“That’s a shame darlin’, you really are. You have the most gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen,” he gushes. 
I’m dead. I’ve gone to heaven and died. This can’t be happening!
“Well thank you very much. I could say the same for you,” you say coyly.
His eyebrows raise at the blunt remark and chuckles softly to himself. He lowers his hand off the back of the sofa and places it on the empty space beside him, looking at it, then looking back up at you. He doesn’t need to say another word, he pulls you in without trying.
You carefully place your camera on the table and take your bag off your shoulder. You make your way to sit beside him as your heart gallops like a racing horse.
He turns his body a bit to face you more and being this close to him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You have to hold your breath or he might notice how nervous you are.
“No guy back home telling’ you how pretty you are hmm?” He says, tucking back stands of hair behind your ear. All you can do is shake your head no. His fingertips barely graze the lobe of your ear but it makes you feel weak anyway. The arousal dripping from your core is not helping the situation and not letting you think clearly.
“Oh, well I’m sorry men are so blind over there. I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he quips, giving you a cheeky smile. “The most pretty eyes, the most pretty nose, the most pretty pink lips I’ve ever seen,” he coos, leaning in closer until you can feel his breath on your lips.
You can’t take it anymore and lean in, devouring his lips with yours. You let out a deep breath as your mouth touched his, his lips feeling softer than you could have ever possibly imagined. He was so gentle with his kiss, making sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries. But you didn’t care about that. You screamed for more from him. More kisses, more long heated stares, more everything. 
You boldly, place your hand on his bicep, pulling yourself closer to him. He responds to your touch and you can tell he likes it. His crushed velvet shirt felt nice underneath your fingertips and felt his toned arms. He places his hand on your cheek, pulling you in with more urgency. You feel breathless, loving the way his skin makes yours feel like it’s on fire.
Elvis softly pulls away, not before biting your bottom lip and letting a sigh slip out of his mouth.
“Those lips darlin’, I could kiss them all day,” he mutters, his eyes heavy with lust.
“What’s stopping you?” You whimper. He grins and pulls you in once more.
You can’t believe any of this is real. The way he is kissing you should not feel so good and yet it does. You put both of your hands on his chest, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. His hands start to roam along your back, feeling the curve of it and how well this dress fits you. Every inch of you wants his hands placed lower. Right at the spot that is yearning for friction from those perfect hands.
He starts to drag one of his hands to your hip, squeezing there then down the top of your thigh. Need coursed through you and you couldn’t help but open your legs a tad bit. You’re not sure if he noticed, but he let out a pleased hum as he kissed you with more intensity.  
You needed to feel him. You needed to feel how soft his skin would be when it’s pressed against yours. Your hand sneaks into his shirt and feel the coarse little chest hairs he had there. You were right, his skin felt perfect and it only made you crave more. You snake your hand lower and onto the top of his thigh. You make the same movements he’s doing to you and you feel his body melt at your touch. 
You move your hand a bit lower and go to caress the inside part of his thigh and you freeze.
“Oh…” you moan into his mouth.
What you felt underneath your fingertips made you cry in need of him. Dear God, he was blessed in more ways than one. He was so much longer than you expected and it made your heart leap out of your chest. His cock was warm and fully hard in his pants as your fingertips slowly start to rub against him. You pull away from his lips and have to look at what your hand is feeling. 
You were going to die and see the pearly gates if you tried to have that inside of you. But God you didn’t care, you wanted him so bad. You’ve never wanted a man like this in your entire life. Looking up at Elvis, he looks calm and collected, still giving you a heated stare. He looks down at your hand, then back up to you with an innocent look about him. 
“You like what you feel baby?” He asks low. You take a deep breath before answering him.
“Y-yes. Yes, I do…” you say softly, your hand moving along him more. He lets out a pleased groan and adjusts his hips slightly, liking the feeling of your touch on him.
“Do you want more? Do you want to feel what it’s like inside of you?” He coos, leaning in for a soft kiss that leaves you dizzy. Your breathing felt erratic and the ache you had in your core only worsened.
“Yes please Elvis… please,” you beg. He smirks at you and kisses your neck, sending a shock of electricity through you. 
“Can I see what you’re wearin’ underneath this pretty dress honey?” He asks you. You nod your head and his fingers find the zipper of your dress easily. He slowly pulls it down and pulls down the fabric off the front of your body. You help him slip you out of your dress and sit there with your white bra and panties left on. He lets out a pleased little groan as he sees you sitting there, trembling with need. He gently touches your exposed skin, leaving little goosebumps behind. He touches your breasts gently, biting his lip as both of his hands cup them and start to play with your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You can’t help but lean into his touch loving every second of this.
He places a soft kiss on top of your breast as he reaches around and unclips your bra. He quickly puts one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it, groaning as he does so. Your back arches into his mouth, craving so much more from him. His other hand roams your body but only focuses on the top half of you. Your core was dripping with arousal and aching to be touched by those long fingers. You guide one hand between your legs and have him put pressure there.
You gasp instantly, his touch feeling better than you could have imagined but also realize you’ve soaked through your panties. He takes his mouth off of you and pulls away to look down at his hand.
“Fuck honey, how long have you been soaked like this?” He grumbles, his two fingers sliding up and down through your covered folds and creating the most delicious friction.
“Since I saw you moving on that stage,” you admit weakly.
He chuckles softly, “Oh honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner… this pussy just weepin’ for me?” He asks as his fingers slide the elastic of your panties to the side and expose your leaking core to him.
“Yes,” you moan. He nods his head and slowly pushes a finger inside of you. You both groan together, filling you so nicely. Your hips rock into his hand, needing everything he can give you. 
You throw your head back as he adds another finger inside of you.
“Elvis,” you moan, your chest heaving for more. He watches you intently, liking how on edge you are for him. His fingers twist and curl inside of you and you gasp for air. He likes what he’s doing and can’t get enough got you either.
“You feel so nice and wet baby. Can I give you my cock now?” He asks.
“Please, I want you Elvis, please give it to me,” you beg, reaching for his belt and unfastening it. He pulls down your panties and you lift your hips to help him get them off. You then work on the button of his pants and slide down the zipper. He lifts his hips up too to take them off and you watch as his cock comes out. Oh God, you were weak by just looking at it. His pink tip was peeking out from his foreskin and clear precum started to dribble down his length. His hand wraps around his length and spreads some of that slickness around the tip of him, moving his hand up and down slowly. You look back into his intense eyes and don’t know what to say.
“You want to ride me, honey?” He asks. The look on your face must have shown the apprehension you had thinking about taking him like that. He rubs his thumb along your cheek and smirks at you.
“It’ll feel so good baby. You’re so wet for me, you’re going to cover my cock in your sweet honey and make us feel so good,” he groans as you watch him swirl his thumb around the tip of his cock. A pent-up moan escapes your lips and quickly straddle his hips, needing him more than ever.
He rubs his length through your folds, covering him in your arousal and making you both moan with the sensation. You hold onto his shoulders and press kisses to his cheek. You feel him line himself up to your entrance and hold your hips. Elvis looks up at you with need and his eyes are begging you to have him. You felt the heat of him pressed there against your entrance and you can’t wait any longer. You start to sink down on his impressive length, moaning as you take the first few inches. He felt so good, filling you so completely and stretching out your tight entrance. He throws his head back onto the couch and groans as you take him, squeezing your hips tightly.
The sounds he makes when he’s getting pleased goes straight to your head. You love the way he groans as you move slowly on him. You never knew you could be so attracted to the sound of a man getting pleased. You take more of him inside you and cry out his name, overwhelmed it can be feeling this good. 
“You feel so good, honey. You like how my cock feels inside you?” He groans into your ear. You gasp as his hips move up into you, stuffing more of his length inside of you.
“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you cry out.
You move faster on him, wanting more of him and feeling your walls fluttering each second. His eyes watch how your breasts bounce as you’re riding him, drunk at the very sight of you. You close your eyes, overwhelmed with all the sensations he’s giving you and those eyes only make it worse and worse. 
Your hips grind at the base of his cock and you both whimper. Your clit rubs at the base of him and you feel your walls start to clench around him. You ride him harder, chasing the high of your orgasm. You look back into his eyes, desperate for him to help you.
“E-Elvis… oh please,” you beg.
“Come darlin’, I wanna feel you come for me,” he groans as he snaps his hips into you, causing his cock to get deeper inside you.
You whimper in agony, not being able to hold on much longer. His hands are back on your hips and help you move more. Your breathing is ragged and your vision is blurry, you thrust a few more times on him and you feel your body shudder hard. Your walls squeeze around his length and cry out his name like he’s your saving grace. He groans with you, loving how good you feel around him. He helps you rock your hips into him more, making you come more than you ever have in your life. Your head feels dizzy and your body feels like it’s floating. You never knew a man could make you feel this good.
You keep riding him and don’t want to stop. He was still making these sinful sounds that sent a pulse straight to your pussy as you hear him getting pleased by you. He bites his lower lip as he stares at you, beaded sweat gathering at his temples and his breathing becoming more frantic.
“Ah, honey you feel so damn good. I need to come now,” he says gruffly. He picks you up off of him and has you stand in between his open legs. He grabs his cock in his hand once more and starts to jerk himself off, staring at you with need. You wanted to touch him again, feel the warmth of his length fill your hand. You boldly get on your knees and take his hand off of himself. You wrap your small hand around him and his eyes roll back in his head. Your wetness covered his length and made it easy to move your hand on him. You angle his length toward your chest and he bucks his forward and falls apart. His seed comes out in thick, hot, spurts and lands on your chest. He groans loudly and cusses under his breath with each stroke of your hand. 
“Oh yes honey, yes,” he moans.
He’s trying to calm down and regain his normal breathing but your thumb continues to tease his extra sensitive head. He groans in agony, loving and hating how you’re playing with him.
“God honey I-I-I ain’t never felt so good,” he sighs. “Come here,” he says opening his arms to you. 
You get up and sit on his thigh, your spilling arousal making a mess on him. You wince when you feel the wetness spread on him and look up at him with an innocent smile.
“Sucha messy lil’ girl hmm?” He teases.
“Mhmm, you’re quite messy too,” you quip, looking down at your chest with him covering it.
He laughs amused, “Well, you felt too good what can I say,” he says cutely, placing a soft kiss on your lips.
“I had to say thank you in some way for letting me take some pictures of you,” you say shyly.
“Oh, you didn’t need to, but I’m so thankful you did,” he winks.
You kiss each other more, reveling in this moment together, not wanting it to end so soon. But you knew he had other places to be, you couldn’t keep him in here forever.
“I don’t want to keep you from your day. The whole town is so happy you’re here,” you smile.
“Thanks, honey. It’s nice to be celebrated in sucha nice way,” he says caressing your face, “but this might have been my favorite thing I got today.” He says cutely.
“And what’s that?” You ask smartly.
“You, my new favorite reporter.”
*
*
*
Tagging:
@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler
@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @loving-elvis @theresalwaysep
@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz@tacozebra051
@thatbanditqueen
@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873
@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis
@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy
@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony
@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl
@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121
@jaqueline19997
@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8
@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69
@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista
@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs
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elvispresley1956 · 2 days
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@loving-elvis @aliypop @lookingforrainbows @faeolwen @eapep
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hooked-on-elvis · 1 day
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Baby Elvis and Elvis baby. ♥
Pictures 2-5: Publicity shoot for "Love Me Tender" (1956).
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jaqueline19997 · 1 month
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I love this man so much!!!! I feel like every day I love him just a little more!!!!❤️💓💞
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jhoneybees · 2 days
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Shine bright, handsome❤️
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Magic Man
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Summary: Elvis breaks in a virgin. Word count: ~2,200 words of pure, unadulterated smut inspired by this post. This is purely a work of fiction, and from what I have read of how Elvis actually treated his lovers in real life, is probably a lot less tender and loving than the actual Elvis would have been. But it's make believe and fun, so enjoy it! Warnings: 20 year age gap, dubious consent at some points, full intercourse, course language. Somewhat callous treatment of Elvis' taste for younger women.
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His bedroom is a gilded cage, dripping with excess and the stench of hedonism. Elvis's entourage has left them alone, finally, after weeks of teasing glances and knowing winks. Tonight, it’s just him and his prey—sweet little Molly van Patton. All night, she’s tried to resist, but his primal aura is too strong to deny. He’s charming. Dangerous. A seasoned, world-famous rock star. And she's just a 19-year-old innocent, trembling on the edge of womanhood. Just like he likes ‘em.
Their meeting felt like some sort of strange, cosmic joke. She wasn’t a fan, hadn’t even intended to go see his show. But her best friend convinced her, one thing led to another, and now here she is, somehow lying in his colossal bed like a tiny helpless creature, her presence filling him with a burning desire to crush and destroy.
Now, he traces his lips down her neck, pausing to nuzzle at the hollow of her collarbone. Sweetly at first, then more insistently as she drags long, jagged breaths. Molly can’t help but gasp under the full weight of him, her body opening up in ways she’s never experienced before. It’s heady and intoxicating and dangerous and delicious and—
Oh. Oh. 
Each touch sets off an electric current, making her arch closer. She runs her fingers through the thick hair on his chest, feeling the cool metal of his gold lion's head medallion pressed against her own breasts. But as he reaches for her waistband, she hesitates.
“Stop,” Molly trembles. Heat flushes her cheeks. "I’m not… I don’t…"
Elvis nuzzles her neck. His hand is dangerously close to unzipping her skirt. He’s in a taking mood tonight.
“Please,” she pleads. “Won’t they know what we’re doing in here?”
Elvis chuckles, a low, deep rumbling sound that vibrates through her very bones. “Baby, they don’t care. They’re probably already placing bets on how long you’ll last.”
Molly's heart plummets into her stomach. Of course they knew. All those knowing glances and hushed whispers, they’d known all along. Her face flushes and it's all she can do to grab her things and run.
But Elvis doesn't give her time to process this newfound knowledge. His insistent lips find her earlobe, nibbling it lightly as he whispers lewd suggestions she can't comprehend but her body understands. Against her better judgment, heat pools between her legs, and she bites back a moan of desire. 
"Just one more," Elvis purrs, his voice thick with want, sending shivers down Molly's spine. "One more’n I'll stop.”
But one more turns into two, and then three, and before she knows it, she’s powerless under him. She feebly attempts to push him away, but his strong arms grasp her tighter. His grip is firm but not quite enough to leave bruises. Not yet at least. But she knows it’s coming. Braces for it. His lips find her neck again.
The heat between her thighs grows unbearable, and she clenches them together, as if that could stop the freight train that is Elvis Presley. As if it could cool the fire raging through her veins. She’s never felt so alive, so free, so needed and… so scared, as she does tonight in his arms. But as he inches lower, kiss by agonizing kiss awakening something primal inside her, Molly panics.
This is really happening.
She’s about to give herself to a man she barely knows, a man nearly twenty years her senior. One who could crush her like a fly if he wanted to. Her heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline coursing as she manages to shove him off. 
“No!” she cries out, the word catching in her throat. Molly’s outburst gives Elvis pause. Hurt and confusion flash across his face as he pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow. 
“What is it?” his voice is gruff but not unkind.
Molly turns her face away, cheeks flaming. How can she tell him? That despite her adventurous friend and all the talk, she's never actually… that he would be her first. 
Elvis regards her steadily. Impossibly long black lashes curtain the genuine concern in his eyes. Molly's pulse throbs in her ears. 
"Please don't make me say it," she whispers finally. Molly squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. But a single drop escapes, trailing down her cheek. 
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "It's just… I've never…"
Understanding dawns on Elvis' face. He brushes the tear from her face with surprising tenderness. 
"Never been with a man before?" he asks gently. 
Molly shakes her head, a furious blush creeping up her neck. She expects anger, derision, rejection. For him to throw her out and call for the next girl. 
But instead, Elvis tips her chin up to look at him. "Oh honey," he murmurs. "Why didn't you tell me?" 
Molly's breath catches in her throat as Elvis regards her with unexpected tenderness. His hands, which moments before seemed so insistent, now caress her face and arms with featherlight touches. 
"I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elvis shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Oh darlin', that don't matter one bit to me. I want you, Molly girl. I want to make you feel real good." 
He drags his thumb over her bottom lip and Molly shivers. She knows she should leave, should find Doreen and book it out of there before she does something reckless. But the way Elvis is looking at her, like she's the only woman in the world… it makes her feel powerful. Desired. Dangerous.
She... likes it?
"Just relax and lemme take care of you," Elvis murmurs, his breath hot against her ear. With that, the last of her resolve melts. 
His hands, knowing and sure, explore her curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moans, melting into him, her body betraying her. She's scared, yes, but she's also aching for more. He senses her hesitation, easing her back even further, parting her thighs with a tenderness belied by the impressive size of his hands. His eyes are hungry, admiring the perfect, trembling creature before him. 
"You're so beautiful," he breathes, running a calloused finger along her jawline. His words were like sweet poison, both thrilling and terrifying. "Shh, baby," he coos, "I gotcha."
He kisses her, his lips firm yet gentle, as if he can taste her innocence. Her first kiss, her first everything, all with him. She was born for him.
*
His lips trail down her breasts, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Molly arches into the sensation, the soft scratch of his stubble against her skin. His hand slides down to her stomach, fingertips tracing the sensitive flesh just below her belly button. 
"Do you want me to stop?" he asks hoarsely. She shakes her head, unable to form words. "Say it, Molly girl." He presses a kiss to her hip bone, nipping lightly at it. 
"No," she gasps. "Don't stop."
He smiles against her skin. "Good girl," he purrs before lowering his mouth to where she's aching for him most.
His tongue flicks forward, teasing her entrance and Molly cries out, her fingers curling into the silk sheets. She looks down at him—somewhere down there—through one open eye.
"Is that what... are you supposed to be—"
Before she can finish her sentence, his hands grip her thighs. Fear and desire battle within her, but desire wins out as curious pecks and licks turn into long, languid strokes. Bracing himself, Elvis feasts on her, like she's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. She finally opens her eyes and there he is in all his glory: lapping at her, coaxing the desire out of her body and onto his waiting tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through her. "Oh God," she whuffs out, her head thrown back in ecstasy. 
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice wonders what everyone else must be thinking. But then Elvis's tongue buries itself deep within again, soft and wet, and all thoughts vanish into thin air. His hands grip the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her closer to him as he laps at her vulnerable center. She's never felt anything like this before, the pleasure so unbearable it hurts. 
"That's it, baby," he growls into her glistening pussy, "ride it out."
And she does. His tongue flicks and swirls, plunging inside her, mimicking what she imagines is his impressive length. 
By now, the whole house must hear her moans, but she doesn’t care. She’s coming undone whether she wants to or not, and she’s never felt more alive.
“Oh, Elvis,” she moans, her voice high and desperate, “Oh, I—”
Molly van Patton shudders and bucks against him, her first ever orgasm coursing through her body like wildfire. He doesn't stop though, not until she's sobbing and spent, her juices coating his face. He looks up at her through hooded lids, a satisfied smirk on his full lips.
“I ain’t done with you yet.”
*
He moves up her body, his manhood hard and throbbing against her thigh. Her entrance flutters in anticipation, and Elvis smiles at the sight. He positions himself there, large and intimidating. 
“Relax, li’l girl,” he whispers in her ear. “I’ll be real gentle.” Molly looks up at him, eyes wide, pleading. 
“You sure you want this?”
She nods dutifully.
“Say it f’me, now.” 
“I want you inside me.”
That’s all he needs. Before she can take it back, he slides in an inch, and then another. He’s so big, stretching her so wide she’s certain she’ll split in half. Certain he'll pierce her and she'll never be the same again. Tears leak from her eyes, mixing with the mascara from earlier.
“Shh,” he soothes, “I got you.” His accent is thicker than usual, sweet like molasses. Slowly, bit by excruciating bit, Elvis works himself inside her tight heat. Molly bites her lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway.
At that, Elvis groans, and then he’s entering her more and more until he bottoms out. He's still for a moment, ensuring she can truly take in all of his length. “Tell me how it feels,” he grunts, as he slowly picks up speed.
“It hurts,” she pants out. But it’s a delectable sort of hurt. He’s filling her up in ways she never thought possible. Each thrust has her teeth bitting his shoulder tighter.
“I know, baby,” he coos into her ear, “but it gets better, I promise.”
And somehow, it does. The pain eases and is replaced with a delicious ache that has her hips rocking towards his.. Heat pools in her belly as he claims her with every thrust, like she was made for him and only him.
“You’re so tight,” he moans. “Made for me.”
It’s a mantra, a vow, as a he pistons in and out, breaking her in with every stroke. Her climax from before was nothing compared to this. She’s soon whimpering, clawing at his back, an evil sob stuck in her throat. 
"That's it, baby," he pants, "give it all to me."
Elvis pulls out swiftly, leaving Molly empty and aching. In one smooth motion, he flips her over onto her stomach. 
"On your knees," he commands.
Molly whimpers but obeys, presenting herself to him on all fours. Elvis groans at the sight, gripping her hips tightly. 
He enters her from behind in one powerful thrust. Molly cries out, the new angle allowing him to penetrate her even deeper. Elvis sets a ruthless pace, pounding into her relentlessly.
The sound of slapping flesh fills the air as he claims her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. He hits a spot deep inside that has Molly seeing stars. She pushes her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough.
"That's right, take it," Elvis growls. His breathing is labored in her ear, hot and ragged. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping onto her shoulder blades, but he doesn’t relent. “You’re taking me so good. You love it, don’t you?”
She does. Oh, God, does she ever. Fuck it. If this was wrong, she didn’t want to be right. 
He keeps pounding into her, and it's dizzying and intoxicating all at once. The room spins as she clings to the headboard for dear life, his name a curse on her lips, a talisman against the building pleasure-pain coiling in her core. His pace quickens, hot breath on her neck, and his thick chest hair tickling her back.
“El… vis…” she mewls. “Right there!”
He obliges, his expert hands massaging her swollen clit as he pounds into her from behind. 
“Yeah, just like that,” he rasps as Molly bucks against him, working the length of his cock with her slick and pushing her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough. It shocks him how quickly she took to his cock. Elvis’ fingers dig almost painfully into her hips, urging her on. “That’s right, take what you need.” 
"Elvis, I..."
The pressure builds, coiling in her belly like a spring. “That’s my girl, let it go,” he growls in her ear, and that’s all it takes.
Her body explodes into a million stars, tightening around him as she screams her release. Just like that, it hits her all at once—from heaven and hell itself, crashing over her like a tidal wave and even more powerful than the first. Colors dance behind her eyelids. 
Elvis’ nails dig into her back, and she can feel the delicious sting as they break the skin. “Unnngh,” he grunts, “I’m fuckin’ close.” The filthy words spur her on, and she clenches around him, the fluttering of her walls easing up, and suddenly she’s slowly floating back to earth and back to life and back to his gigantic bed in his gigantic mansion in Memphis, Tennessee. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.
He growls and buries himself even deeper, his thrusts erratic and desperate now. Harder and harder until he, too, splinters apart, shattering inside her like stained glass. He grunts, his release warm and sticky deep inside her.
Later, Elvis cocoons Molly in his strong arms and starts to rock her gently. As she drifts off to sleep, she knows there's no going back.
She's his now, body and soul. That’s the price she paid for giving in to her darkest desire.
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