#Elvis Presley

[onlyangelsstuff]

In my dreams

me and him

[citizenscreen]

Elvis Presley reading his military draft letter by the Christmas tree on December 20, 1957.

[dreamingofep]

You ever just…. ✨think✨ about this man…🫠

[elvispresley1956]

Photo dump kind of day

[from-memphis-with-love]

Damn you, Joyce Bova.

You had the best Elvis, lol.

elvis with fans in las vegas (8-21-69) 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

1969 elvis is so handsome, ethereal beauty. sorry the coloring of these photos vary- but i think they’re amazing nonetheless!

[elvisvideos]

"You want a kiss, you want a scarf, what else!??! I mean...uh" lol. Atlanta, Georgia. May 2, 1975

[sissylittlefeather]

Hi there! I’m not exactly sure how to give links to songs, nor am I sure if I send this other places, but I do have a song I’d like to give for the event! “Your Love’s Been A Long Time Coming”, by Elvis, of course, and my only other request is that you have a good day/night! 💜

12 Days of Ficmas

Day 5: Your Love's Been a Long Time Coming

A/N: Aw thank you so much!!! I'm sorry this one is late. We're still dying of some kind of plague in my house and it's been rather distracting. But here it is!

(Also, as an aside, I have a whole fic series based on this song. If you're interested, find it here.)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~1.2k

You've had one bad relationship after another with men that hurt you over and over again. It's gotten so bad that you've sworn off dating altogether. It's just not worth the pain.

That's when Elvis collides with your life. No, really. He actually collides with you. He rear-ends your car in the middle of the night on your way home from work because you're too broke to get your tail lights fixed. He's ready to read you the riot act until you roll your window down and turn your tear-stained face up to him. When you realize who he is you stammer and apologize and cry even harder, but he's gentle and kind and he makes sure you and your car get home safely. Still, you're pretty sure you've seen the last of him.

But you haven't, not by a long shot. He turns up on your doorstep two days later with a bouquet of pink roses and the keys to a brand new station wagon. You sit on the porch and talk for a bit until he tries to persuade you to go to dinner with him. You're deep into telling him no when your son comes to the door to announce that whatever your mom is cooking is ready to eat. It's a veritable nightmare and you bury your blushing cheeks in your hands.

“What's for dinner, bud?” Elvis asks over you. Your 5 year old son, Benny, replies happily.

“Meatloaf!”

“I love meatloaf. Is there enough for me?” You sit up and shake your head. There's no way you're letting him come into the house you share with your aging mother and young son.

“We always have extra. Come on.” Benny pushes the screen door open and Elvis stands up before you can stop him. You want to sink into the floor as he stands in your tiny, messy living room, but Elvis continues to be gracious and sweet. He puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close to him, whispering in your ear.

“It's okay, honey. I like it. It's nice and homey.” He pulls back and smiles down at you. You're not sure how it happens, but somehow you end up with Elvis Presley at your small dinner table, laughing and chatting with your little family. He and your son bond instantly over cars and football. He even manages a talk with your mother about church music and she blushes and calls him a ‘nice young man’. The conversation is easy and you seem to get along in a way that he hasn't experienced in a while. There's something about you, a simplicity and authenticity, that he can't get enough of. When the night comes to an end, you walk him back out to the front porch and he kisses your cheek and tells you he'd like to see you again. How on earth are you supposed to say no?

After a few more weeks of spending an inordinate amount of time together, you find yourself in his bedroom at Graceland. You know he's married, but that doesn't seem to matter to either of you as he kisses you deeply, his hands on your hips. He starts to move down your neck, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin under your ear.

“Elvis?”

“Hm?” He doesn't stop kissing your neck.

“Why do you like me?” Now he pulls back and looks down at you.

“Honey, I've been dating beauty queens and movie stars for so long, I forgot what a regular woman is like. You're a real person and I like who you are. You make me laugh and you're kind and warm and you don't see dollar signs when you look at me. You're smart and beautiful and you're a good mom. I've been waiting for someone like you for a long time.” You look up at him, your eyes glassy with tears.

“I think I've been waiting for you too.” He smiles and dives into another deep kiss and neither of you looks back. You shed clothing left and right as you stumble to the bed, his hands running over your naked skin. He presses his lips anywhere he can get them and lays you on the bed gently. In a matter of seconds, he has you spread open for him, his tongue dipping into your pussy between hard licks over your clit. Your hand goes to his hair as you whimper and moan and get closer and closer to your climax. He's relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure and you've never had a man try this hard to get you off. He feels your walls flutter and tighten on his fingers and hums, the vibration making you see stars. It doesn't take much longer for you to cum, your pussy throbbing around him as the lightning bolts run in your veins.

“God, you're pretty when you cum.” He whispers as he sits back up, situating your ankles on his shoulders. You bite your bottom lip as he teases your sensitive entrance with the head of his cock. “You ready, baby?”

“Yes, oh yes please!” You whimper breathlessly as he starts to slowly push into you, giving you time to adjust to the size of him. It feels so good, being filled like this, and the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you. When he bottoms out, his whole cock inside you, he stops for a second and groans.

“You're so tight, baby. So fuckin’ tight. You're perfect.” You moan as he slowly pulls back and then thrusts forward, filling you again. “Does it feel good?”

“Feels so good! Oh!” He smiles down at you and kisses your ankle as he starts to pick up a steady rhythm of fucking into you.

“You got such pretty little sooties, baby.” He kisses your ankle again as his hand caresses your foot, his dick sliding in and out of you at an even pace.

“God, Elvis, this is amazing.” You moan as he rearranges your legs to be around his hips. He leans over on top of you and whispers in your ear.

“I want you to stay with me. Not just tonight.”

“But aren't you–”

“That's over. Has been for a while now. I want you, baby, for the long haul. Tell me you want me too.” He holds both of your wrists in one of his hands above your head and runs his fingertips down your body with the other.

“Yes, Elvis. Yes, I want you.” He grips your hip with his free hand and starts to pump into you faster and harder.

“Good. I'm gonna cum, baby.”

“Me too, oh god.” He slams into you hard and deep and you hit your climax simultaneously, both of you pulsing and panting and melting into each other. As your bodies relax and you come down from your shared high, he presses his sweaty forehead to yours.

“I love you, baby. I know it's quick, but I've loved you since I first saw you.”

“Oh, Elvis. It's not quick. This has been a long time comin’ for me. I love you too.” He smiles and rests his head on your chest.

“It has for me too, baby. It has for me too.”

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 9 - Made a promise to be kept

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 3.2K

TWs: Illness, self-esteem issues, discussion of spanking, handjob/masturbation, voyeurism, suggestion of ass play, possessive kink.

Tegan spends the day at work feeling gradually more and more ill, so she decides to pick up a few things on her way home in case she can’t get out to get them the next day. It’s probably just a cold she picked up from the kids at the weekend, but she doesn’t want to have to drag herself out of bed and look for cough medicine if it’s worse than that. As she gets out of the car she suddenly remembers that Elvis basically lives in her apartment right now, and she could send him out to get things. Part of her wonders what on earth he’d come back with, but she also realises she’s been on her own for so long she’s forgotten what it’s like to rely on someone else.

Elvis fusses her and tries to insist on her resting, but she’s too worried about what kind of dinner he’ll cook without her help, so she tells him she doesn’t feel that bad. And she doesn’t, not really. Not until she tries to sleep. They lie down together as usual and she lets her mind drift off, but her thoughts stop making sense. It’s as if she’s put the words in a blender and then poured them out, and all the while she’s sweating and starting to wonder if her legs belong to her or have been swapped out for someone else’s. Eventually she tosses and turns herself fully awake, body hot and arms outside of the duvet freezing cold, sweat dampening the hair at the back of her head. 

“Queenie?” Elvis whispers. He looks at the digital clock by the bed. 2.30am. He’s been awake this whole time, watching her thrash about in her sleep and listening to the odd random word she’d mumbled. 

She rolls over and looks up into his concerned face. “Elvis, I’m sick.”

He strokes her forehead gently. “I can see that, baby.”

She closes her eyes again and groans. He presses a little kiss to her forehead now, carefully moving her sweaty hair out of her face. 

“Try ‘an go back ta sleep, honey.”

She groans again. “I’ll try.”

She closes her eyes but Elvis feels like a furnace next to her, he’s making it even hotter in the bed that already seems like it might be on fire. Then she hears him start to sing. 

Forever, my darling / Our love will be true / Always and forever / I'll love only you / Just promise me, darling / Your love in return / May this fire in my soul, dear / Forever burn

Her mouth curls into a smile and she opens her eyes again. 

“That’s cute.”

“Mmmm. I’m trying ta sing ya ta sleep.”

She giggles, putting her hand on his cheek. “Oh ‘raur. Don’t take this the wrong way but… you’re going to keep me awake if you keep doing that.”

Elvis immediately looks hurt and she wishes she could take it back. “Hm. Forget it then.” He flops onto his back, sighing loudly. He doesn’t mind staying up late, in fact he kind of enjoys it, but he wants to be asleep right now. When you’re asleep you can’t feel rejected.

“‘Raur.” Tegan rolls onto her side, leaning over him to look into his face and seeing his eyes firmly shut. “I’m sorry. I love your singing.” She nuzzles his cheek. “I just don’t find it very sleep-inducing.”

He grumbles again. 

“You could sing to me when I feel better. I’d like that.” She’s still feeling a bit delirious from the fever and so she puts her head on his chest and says, “I’d really like that, Elvis.”

“Why’s ‘at then?” He huffs. 

She giggles into his pyjama top. “‘Cause I’d find it a turn on.”

His lips curl into a smile at the revelation and he starts singing again, right in her ear.

My heart's at your command, dear / To keep, love, and to hold / Making you happy's my desire / Keeping you is my goal

She giggles even more. “Stop it! I’m sick!”

“Alright then. Try ‘an sleep. I won’t sing this time.”

She props herself back up on her elbow again. “You’re making the bed kind of hot…” She pulls an awkward face, knowing he won’t like this either. 

He sighs deeply. “First ya won’t let me sing ya ta sleep, now ya want me on the couch.”

“I’m sorry. But you won’t sleep well with me here either.”

He curls a stray piece of hair back behind her ear. “This’d be a damned sight easier if we were at Graceland.”

“But I like my apartment. And you like my apartment. Don’t you?”

“Hmmm. Yeah. But not when I have ta sleep on the couch. I’m an old man, my back can’t take it.”

Tegan doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable, but she can’t see how she’s going to sleep at all with him in the bed. 

He shakes his head and sits up. “But I’ll go. I’ll see ya in the mornin’ baby.”

***

When Tegan doesn’t appear at the usual time, Elvis picks up the phone and calls her work. He causes quite a kerfuffle, being Elvis Presley and everything, but it does mean that they believe him when he says he’s not sure if she’ll be in for the rest of the week. He pads around the kitchen making coffee and rummaging around in the cupboards for anything else she might want. When he’s finished he puts it all on a tray and then sets it down on the side, slowly pushing her bedroom door open and peering inside. 

“Honey?” He says softly, into the semi-darkness. 

Tegan grumbles. She’d woken up a while ago, but she didn’t really want to move. She still doesn’t want to move now, so she burrows further into the bedding. Elvis walks around the bed and gets in next to her, gently putting an arm over her. She grumbles again. 

“I made ya coffee,” he murmurs into her hair. 

“Thanks. I feel like my throat’s full of broken glass.”

Elvis pulls her against him, kissing the top of her head. “Ya want it now?”

“Please.”

He gives her another kiss and then gets up again, fetching the tray and bringing it in. She sits up slowly, pulling pillows behind her to prop her up and looking with some interest at the contents of the tray. 

“I thought you were just bringing coffee?”

Elvis puts it down on her lap. “Well I thought these might help.”

Tegan looks at the rest of the contents of the tray in bewilderment. There’s painkillers, which make sense, next to two cups of steaming coffee. So far, so good. But then there’s a box of crackers, a bottle of gatorade (which she’s quite sure she didn’t buy, so she’s confused as to what it’s doing in her apartment) three or four candy bars (which, again, she didn’t buy) and a packet of lemsip. Just, on its own. Without hot water or a cup. She rubs her forehead in confusion and then just giggles. 

“What?”

She hands him his coffee and takes hers, setting the tray down on the bed between them. Coughing a little, she takes a few sips of her drink to try and make her throat feel a bit better before replying. 

“I bought a load of cough drops and things at the shops yesterday,” she explains. “They’re in the cupboard over the sink.” 

“Oh,” he sighs. He didn’t sleep well on the couch at all, and he’s starting to feel a little like everything he does at the moment is wrong. “Ya want those?”

She takes another sip of coffee. “In a bit.”

He huffs again. She raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Everythin’ I do fer ya, ya don’t like.”

Tegan sighs, and then she puts her head on his shoulder. “That’s not true. This coffee is actually alright.”

She means to make him laugh but he just groans, moving her off him and getting up again. 

“I’m no good at this.” 

She watches in disbelief as he walks back out of the room again. “Elvis!” She calls after him, then bursts into a fresh round of coughing. “‘Raur?” 

When she sees he’s not coming back, she decides to get up, slowly pulling on panties and an old Elvis sweater she found the other day in the back of her closet. She pushes on slippers and then pads out of the room, carrying her coffee. He’s always telling her off for wandering about the place naked, so she hopes this will do. She coughs a bit more and sniffs, finding him sat on the couch watching MTV. Wandering over to the cupboard she grabs a handful of cough drops, Vicks and tissues, and then walks over to the couch. Looking away from the TV for a moment, he’s greeted by the sight of his girlfriend walking around in a sweater with his name on it and a pair of boxer-style panties. It’s hard to stay mad. 

“Where’d this come from?” He asks, tugging at her sleeve as she sits down next to him. 

“Found it in my closet. I think I must’ve bought it when I was a teenager. I’m amazed it still fits, but it was pretty baggy on me back then.”

“I like it,” he announces, because he really does. “No panties with my name on?”

She smirks. “I bet I could find some.”

He pats his thigh. “C’mon. Lap.”

Elvis has got in the habit of telling her to get onto his lap if she doesn’t do it of her own accord, and although it makes her feel a little bit like a pet dog, she does kind of like it. And she likes cuddling up with him like this anyway. So she sits sideways on his lap so she can still watch the TV, his arm firmly around her. She sneezes. 

“I’m gonna give you this, if you keep cuddling up to me all the time.”

Elvis huffs again. “Ya want me ta go? I’ll just go.” He lets go of her so she can get up if she wants. 

“I didn’t say that, ‘raur.” She cuddles into him more, her fingers playing with the buttons on his pyjama top. “I just don’t want you to get sick too. I like you being here. I’d be lonely without you.” 

“Hmmm. Wouldn’t want ya ta be lonely.”

His arm returns to its previous position, but he still feels uncomfortable. He’s a protector, but he’s not much of a caregiver, and he feels like he ought to be. After having a child, he thinks he should be better at knowing what to do when someone is sick, but he and Cilla had always sort of farmed that out to other people. 

“I was only teasing, earlier, you know?” She says after they’ve been sitting there quietly for a while, watching music videos. 

“Should’ve known,” Elvis mutters. “Should be good at looking after sick people by now.”

Tegan shifts to look into his eyes, which stare back, full of sadness. “You couldn’t know what was in my cupboards, I didn’t tell you. But you could’ve just asked what I wanted. That might’ve been easier.”

“Oh. I suppose so.”

“It’s cute though. How much you try.”

He huffs. “Don’t wanna be cute.”

“That’s tough really, isn’t it? Because you are so cute,” she teases, rubbing her nose against his. 

“Ya do really emasculate me sometimes, honey. Callin’ me pretty an’ cute. Next thing I know you’ll be plaiting my hair an’ puttin’ on make-up.”

Tegan giggles. “You put make-up on yourself in the 50s, didn’t you? Come to think of it, in the 60s and 70s too, blodyn.”

“What are ya callin’ me now?”

She bites her lip. “Blodyn. It’s a term of endearment, but literally it means flower.”

“Flower?!” He rages for a second, and then laughs. “Yer really callin’ me flower. Aha. I see.”

“Yeah I am. My little blodyn, fy blodyn bach, taking care of me while I’m sick.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “If ya weren’t sick, ya’d be gettin’ a spankin’ for this…”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He gives her a quick hard slap to the side of her thigh, making her yelp, and then kisses her gently on the lips. “I’ll put it on the list of things ta do when you’re well again. Sing ta ya and then spank the livin’ daylights outta ya.”

***

Tegan gets worse over the next few days, and spends them mainly in bed, with Elvis ferrying hot drinks and soup back and forth. Around day four he starts to get sick too, and although he's grumpy about it he only really gets a sniffle and a bit of a cough for a day or two. Tegan is still exhausted a week later, but she drags herself out of bed to sit on the couch. 

“Feelin’ any better, baby?” Elvis asks, pulling her onto his lap as usual and arranging a blanket around her. 

“Hmmm. Just tired.” Tegan’s head flops against his chest. 

“Can I get ya anything? Ya hungry?”

“Yeah, I am actually. Nothing in the apartment worth eating though.”

“Why don't I go out and get us a little breakfast, baby?”

She sits up and strokes his cheek lovingly. “That would be great if you feel OK?” She puts her hand on his forehead to check his temperature, worrying that he's more ill than he's letting on. 

“I feel fine, baby. Jus’ sniffin’ a bit s’all.”

“Don't know how you've got away with that but I shouldn't complain. Don't want to lose my nursemaid.”

Elvis shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “What have I told ya about that? ‘M not a nursemaid.”

Tegan giggles. “Sorry. You're doing such a good job of taking care of me, though.”

He puffs up with pride. “I am?”

“Yes!” She kisses him on the lips. “I don't know what I'd have done without you.”

He grins, pleased to feel useful for a change. “Alright then. You stay there and keep warm and I’ll go and get us some breakfast.”

Tegan chuckles to herself about staying warm in the middle of September in Memphis, but she doesn't say anything. It's sweet of him to worry. As she waits for him to come back, she thinks about how sweet he's been this whole week. It was obvious not being able to take care of her instinctively bothered him, but he'd taken her advice and actually asked what she wanted and by now he was pretty good at feeding her and bringing her medicine. He'd even got in the shower with her a couple of times and helped her wash when she'd been too tired to want to do it on her own. 

***

After breakfast, Elvis watches Tegan take the plates from the couch into the kitchen. She’s still only wearing panties and that old sweater, and he feels his body react to the sight of her ass jiggling a little as it makes its way around the apartment. It’s happened the past couple of mornings, but he’s done his best to ignore Little Elvis and concentrate on looking after Tegan. This morning, though, he’s really making himself known and Elvis isn’t sure he’s going to be able to ignore him. 

Tegan’s too tired to notice the look on his face, flopping back down next to him and putting her legs up on his lap.

“Honey, ya can’t keep wanderin’ about the place like this,” he tells her. 

“Hmmm? Why?” 

He takes her hand and puts it on his now fully-hard dick. She moves her head and her eyes go wide. 

“Oh.” She doesn’t know what else to say. She doesn’t want to tell him to sort himself out, but she’s not sure she has the energy to do anything for him either. Plus she’s not exactly feeling that sexy right now.  

“I-it’s okay,” he stutters. “I…uh… I can sort myself out.”

Tegan shakes her head and squeezes him. “No, I wanna help.”

“Honey, you’re still sick.”

She sighs, her head back on his shoulder. “Well, at least let me watch then.”

She hears him cough awkwardly, as if he’s trying to swallow down something particularly difficult. 

“W-watch?”

“Mmmm. Y’know. You jerk yourself and I’ll… watch.”

“I think I might feel a bit self-conscious, baby.”

“Why? I’ve seen your dick before. And, spoiler alert, I know what happens at the end.”

She hears a grumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve never… done that before. In front of someone.”

“Oh. Well I promise I’d enjoy it.”

He moves his head and shoulder so that she has to look at him. “Would ya?”

She nods. “Here. Why don’t I help you?” 

Reaching down to undo the garish belt he’s wearing, she unzips his pants. He shuffles around to make it easier for her to release Little Elvis from his boxers, then moans softly as she pumps him up and down a couple of times. Letting go, she takes his hand from where it’s resting on his thigh and guides it towards his dick. He takes over stroking himself, enjoying the feeling of the kisses she starts to press to his neck and ear. His other hand reaches around to her ass, grabbing a handful and sighing softly to himself. She bites her lip, thinking about how else she can help him.

“You want me to do this?” She asks, slipping her hand in his boxers to massage his balls. 

He groans. “Yes please.”

She squeezes them gently a few times, and then starts to get other ideas. One of her fingers rubs the skin just below them, and he almost jumps. 

“Honey!”

She giggles. “No?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“I swear you’re supposed ta be sick.”

She goes back to massaging, her lips pressing against his. “I am. I just thought you might like a little assistance.”

He kisses her and then pulls back again. “I don’t need yer finger up my asshole.”

Tegan can’t help herself, bursting out laughing, pulling her hand away from him to slap her thigh in amusement. 

“It wasn’t your arsehole, cariad. It was your taint.”

Elvis tilts his head to one side and huffs out a sigh. “Yer on very thin ice, y’know that? Even sick girls can get a spanking.”

She giggles, cuddling into him and kissing his collarbone. “Sorry, ‘raur. Please carry on. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

She doesn’t really, they hang around his neck as he kisses her, run over his chest, even wrap around his own hand to help him as he gets closer to release. But she does resist the temptation to put them in his boxers again. At least for now. 

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he breathes in her ear, his lips and teeth finding the lobe. 

“Let me see,” she replies, looking down as he kisses her neck and makes a mess of his hand and pants. 

“Oh fuck. You do like me wandering around in these panties.”

“Mmmm.”

They sit there for a while longer, until he decides he has to get cleaned up. 

“You enjoy that?” She calls after him, as he walks towards the bathroom. 

He turns and smiles. “More ‘an I thought I would.” He fixes her with an intense stare. “But not as much as I’d enjoy fucking that pussy a mine, baby. Hurry up and get well.”

***

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[elvisbdoll]

Hey!!! I was wondering if I can request a fic of 60s!army!Elvis, where he sees reader during a party and is instantly in love with her? Like just finds her to be the most prettiest, cutest girl he has ever seen and is determined to get her attention?

Take all the time you need, girlie!❤️

The One in the Polka-Dot Dress

Request by @jhoneybees

TW: nothing really, just Elvis being Elvis

Words:2.300

A/N: HI Love! Thank you for requesting this, I really hope you enjoy and keep requesting! Love you so much ENJOY.

The officers’ club buzzed with energy, a cacophony of conversation, laughter, and the faint strains of jazz from a crackling record player in the corner. The room was dimly lit, the kind of soft, amber glow that made everyone look a little more glamorous.

Elvis Presley stood near the bar, fiddling with the silver cufflinks on his neatly pressed uniform. He’d been stationed in Germany for months now, and nights like these—filled with small talk and stiff drinks—were beginning to blur together. But tonight felt different, though he wasn’t sure why.

He surveyed the room lazily, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he exchanged nods with a few familiar faces. But then he saw her.

At first, it was just a flash of movement—her skirt swishing as she turned to laugh at something one of her friends said. The light caught the soft waves of her hair, framing her face like something out of a dream. She was standing by the window, her silhouette outlined by the faint moonlight streaming through the glass.

She wore a polka-dot dress, black with little white spots, cinched at the waist and flowing just enough to show off her figure without being too much. Her bare shoulders gleamed under the light, and her laugh—it wasn’t just a sound, it was a melody, cutting through the noise of the room and wrapping around him like a lasso.

Elvis froze, his drink halfway to his lips, his heart thudding hard enough that he was sure someone nearby could hear it.

“Lord have mercy,” he muttered under his breath.

“What’s that, EP?” one of his buddies teased, elbowing him.

“Nothin’,” Elvis replied, his Southern drawl a little thicker than usual. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen—no, not just beautiful. There was something about her, something that felt like sunshine on a cold day or the first few notes of a song that you know is going to be a hit. She wasn’t just pretty; she was magic.

For a moment, he considered staying put. After all, what were the chances she’d notice him? Sure, people back home always said he had a certain charm, but this was different. She wasn’t just another pretty girl at a party. She was the girl, the kind you’d write songs about, the kind who could ruin you in the best possible way.

But Elvis Presley had never been one to back down from a challenge.

Taking a deep breath, he set down his glass and adjusted his tie. His palms were sweating, but he wiped them discreetly on his uniform trousers as he made his way across the room. He’d faced screaming crowds and flashing cameras, but somehow, the thought of saying hello to her felt like the most nerve-wracking thing he’d ever done.

As he got closer, he caught snippets of her voice—soft, lilting, with just a hint of mischief. She was telling a story, her hands gesturing animatedly, and her friends were hanging on her every word. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, his voice low but steady.

She turned, and for a second, Elvis felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Up close, she was even more stunning. Her eyes—bright and curious—met his, and a soft blush rose to her cheeks.

“Yes?” she said, her voice as warm as he’d imagined.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” he began, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck, “but I just had to come over and say… well, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her friends giggled, and Elvis felt his own face heat up, but he didn’t break eye contact.

“That’s quite the compliment,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you always talk to girls like this?”

“No, ma’am,” he said quickly. “Only the ones who take my breath away.”

Her lips curved into a smile, and Elvis felt like he’d won a prize.

“Well, thank you,” she said. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, savoring the way her name felt on his tongue. “I’m Elvis.”

“I know,” she said with a little laugh. “It’s hard not to recognize you.”

Elvis chuckled, his nerves starting to ease. “Yeah, I guess I’ve got one of those faces, huh?”

Her smile widened, and she gestured to the empty spot beside her. “Would you like to join us?”

“I’d be honored,” he said, sliding into the space and feeling a little like he’d just been invited into heaven.

For the next hour, Elvis forgot about the rest of the party. The room faded into the background as he hung on her every word. She told him about her travels, her family, her favorite books and movies.

[hooked-on-elvis]

[elvisgasm]

Why was '75 literally his best year

[citizenscreen]

Elvis Presley and Hope Lange on set of WILD IN THE COUNTRY (1961). Director Philip Dunne

[whositmcwhatsit]

[silvyysthings]

Lol

[sexybimbo47]

cailee spaeny and jacob elordi as priscilla and elvis in priscilla (2023)