#askdolly

[foreverdolly]

Heyyyyy Sunny baby! So listen, congratulations on hitting 2.5K! I couldn’t imagine it happening to a better person.

So I have a request for mafia boss!Elvis (preferably 70s era if that’s okay with you!)

21. “Touch her and you’re dead.”

16. “You shoot anyone that comes through the door who isn’t me.”

And I would like the forbidden love trope as well!

Something about mafia boss!elvis and the forbidden love trope sounds hot to me. I love you baby! Congratulations again!

-Daisy (@powerofelvis)

𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 | 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚!𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

prompts: "you shoot anyone that comes through the door who isn't me" and "touch her and you're dead." with forbidden love trope.

word count: 2.1k

song: i got a feelin' in my body - elvis presley

notes/warnings: SMUT! brief talk of violence. elvis owns you and your pussy, but he worships the ground that you walk on. you've got him majorly pussy whipped. thank you so so much, daisy! i hope you enjoy this.

You were guilty of overlooking every rotten thing that your lover had ever done- which was a lot. Your ole’ man wasn’t a very good man, but he owned you. Heart and soul, he owned you. Your existence before Elvis felt so far off- like it had been a past life. You weren’t sure how you even functioned before you had a great big man to warm your bed at night and scare away all the monsters. 

You were guilty of overlooking every rotten thing that your lover had ever done- which was a lot. Your ole’ man wasn’t a very good man, but he owned you. Heart and soul, he owned you. Your existence before Elvis felt so far off- like it had been a past life. You weren’t sure how you even functioned before you had a great big man to warm your bed at night and scare away all the monsters. 

The Sunset Strip used to be your stomping grounds. You made a name for yourself there, what with your good looks and submissive disposition. One day you were doing a private dance for a good looking stranger that was dressed to the nines, and the next day you were holed up in the penthouse of his luxurious hotel room, breeding like rabbits and kissing until both of your lips felt raw. 

Elvis loved adorning you in diamonds and blood rubies. He made sure your hair and nails were done at all times, bought you all of the latest designer collections- you were a prize, and he treated you as such. His prize. The man, regardless of his cold exterior, belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him. You had him wrapped around your little finger. The power that you had over the boss was remarkable. All it took was a singular heated gaze from across a busy room, and in the blink of an eye he would be tugging you into the nearest bathroom, ripping at your chiffon skirt with eager hands. 

Your name hung from his neck on a solid gold chain, the lettering inlaid with diamonds. He had one made for you as well- ELVIS spelled out in bulky letters. He loved to joke around and say that it was your collar. He’d often tug your face closer to his by hooking one of his long fingers underneath the chain. You loved feeling the heat of his cigar and peppermint scented breath, paired with the cold metal bite of the thick chain pressing nto your neck and he pulled you up, up, up. Elvis either fucked you like he hated you or made love to you as though you were made of silk stretched thin over porcelain. 

It drove him crazy, but he loved being mean to you. Loved biting into your skin to leave claim marks deep enough to draw blood. You’d yelp and thrash, scratching at his exposed flesh, all while he’d stay deeply buried inside of you. Marking you. Claiming you. Owning you. He’d apologize afterwards with strong calloused hands stroking gently at your hips, his skilled tongue flattened against your abused pussy. 

Your ole’ man was harsh and cruel. He loved striking first and getting even. He believed that pain and death were two of the greatest motivators in life. He held strong to his convictions, maintaining that certain things weren’t deserved but earned. 

Life being one of them. 

Elvis rarely messed up. His ideas were usually reckless- the thoughts of a mad man- but everything always worked in his favor.  He was an evil genius, his mind only working in absolutes. 

You were lounging on the king sized bed, your long legs stretched out behind you, your head popped up on your elbow. You enjoyed watching Elvis work. You liked the way his long fingers rubbed against the barrel of his gun as he polished his collection. You liked the deep rumble of his voice, like lightning before a storm, when he was barking orders at someone over the phone. You liked it when his blue eyes turned glacial when something didn’t go exactly his way- the murderous aura that overcame his built stature. 

He was all powerful. He had a penchant for torture. He didn’t believe in “forgiving and forgetting”. He feared no one and nothing. 

And he was yours. 

“And what the fuck do they want?” He leaned back into the red velvet desk chair, boredly staring out the window and down at the view of the city. He owned half of it. 

You watched him with heavy lidded eyes, your limbs still shaky and unstable after an hour of incessant pounding from the tops of Elvis’s muscled thighs. Usually he stayed in bed long enough to watch his cum drip out of your spent cunt, lazily scooping the warm seed up with two fingers only to shove it back inside. 

Keep it where it belonged. 

There was something about tonight's conversation with one of his lackeys, Lamar, that felt off to you though. 

“Tell Frank that if he tries to get anywhere close to me that we’re gonna have’a problem,” A heated pause, and then Elvis was slamming his large fist down onto his oak table. “I’ll blow his fuckin’ brains out. You tell him that verbatim, got it?” He slammed the black telephone back down onto the receiver, stretching out his long legs before letting out a troubled groan. 

“Baby,” He mumbled as he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, giving them a few exhausted rubs. “Imma need you to get dressed.” He braced his hands on his knees, letting out a small groan before he was up and moving, one of his shoulders popping when he stretched his long arms up and over his head. 

You dragged yourself up to a sitting position, strands of hair falling off of your shoulder, a few flyaways falling into your face. He wanted so badly to lay you back down on the bed and hold you until you fell asleep. Maybe push himself inside of you up to the hilt, just so that you could warm his cock while you slept. 

But tonight was going to be different. 

Tonight he’d have to teach a few rookies a lesson before he could turn in for the night. He was getting old, and the last time he checked the clock it was nearing midnight. He was tired, and because of that he was extra grumpy. 

He lit up a cigar before reaching into the large walk in closet for the closest shirt. He wasn’t shocked to find that it was a black button up- nearly everything he owned was black. He didn’t bother tucking the material into his trousers before he walked into the living room to slide on the pair of shoes that he had been wearing earlier in the night- before you had slyly cupped him through his pants the moment the both of you had gotten back to dinner. 

“What's wrong?” You called out to him from the bedroom, untangling your limbs from the satin bed sheets and stumbling into the closet. You put on the nearest lacey nightgown, ripping one of your robes off its hanger to pull on as well. 

“Frank and a few of his men are bein’ nice enough to pay me a visit, that’s all. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He shrugged on the leather holster vest, tightening the belts at his chest before loading them up with guns. He slipped a few magazines into his pockets, just to be safe. 

 He loved watching you dress- but almost everything you did turned him on. The bullets jingled in his pockets as he leaned against the french doors that connected the living room to his private quarters. You could spit in his face and he’d be rearing and ready to teach you a lesson. 

He worshiped you. 

Which is exactly why he had to keep you protected. 

He crossed his strong arms over his chest after he folded up the sleeves to his forearms, the tattoo of his family crest now on full display. “You’re gonna hate me for this,” He started, licking his plush lips before continuing. “But imma need you to get in the closet and close the door, honey. Whatever ya hear out here. . . don’t come out until ya hear me tell you to.” 

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as you stared at him from across the room, your heart already thundering in your ears. “I-I can’t just stay with-” 

“No!” He barked, causing you to jump in shock. He never raised his voice at you. “This is gonna be bad. "Brains smeared on the walls” sorta bad, lil one.” 

You sucked in a breath, your joints locking up in panic. He could tell that you were starting to spiral, and so he took a few long strides to get to you, pressing a few quick pecks against your already kiss-swollen lips. 

“There’s a couple’a guns in the closet. They’re all loaded. I want ya to shoot anyone that comes through these doors that ain’t me.” 

You nodded your head, shakily turning around to face the closet door. 

“Use your big girl words. I want to hear that you understand.” 

“I understand, Elvis.” 

The dyed brunette heard the closet door shut, and he was quick to close the french doors, only shapes and blurry colors visible behind the frosted glass windows. Almost on cue the door to the suite slammed open, the doorknob going straight through the drywall of the entryway. The man’s eye twitched, one of his guns already in his hand. He felt the cool metal- the weight of the weapon.

It was all familiar, just like going back to Memphis. 

Happiness can be found in a warm gun. When his finger is on the trigger, no one can do him any harm. Elvis could shoot a hole straight through a quarter from half a mile away. 

He was God with a revolver. 

“What the fuck has you bargin’ into my home at midnight, Frank? Did your wife leave ya? Maybe you want to park your sorry ass on my couch.” Elvis used his free hand to push back a few strands of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. 

Frank growled, flashing his clenched teeth at the younger male that stood across from him. 

“I know you took it. Don’t play dumb, you hick.” 

Elvis took a deep breath in through his nose to cool down the heat that was building in his chest. He acted too quickly on his anger- it was something that he was working on. 

“Frankie, I ain’t got the time’a be arguin’ like this. Either tell me why you’re here or get the hell out.” He could have been balls deep in your pussy again by now if it wasn’t for the rude interruption. 

“Someone stole a hundred pounds of product from one of our warehouses last night, and I know it was you.” 

Elvis stood there stoically, his face completely void of any emotion as he let the other male’s words sink in. After a few seconds the corner of his lip turned up into a small smirk. Then it evolved into a grin. 

Before Frank could understand what was going on, Elvis was clutching at his stomach, throwing his head back with loud laughter that echoed around the room. 

“F-Frankie Boy, I had no clue you were such’a comedian.” He wiped at one of his eyes with the back of his hand, as if to rid himself of a tear. “You think that I, Elvis fuckin’ Presley, would steal a measly one hundred pounds. . . from you? I could own you and your entire family four times over. You’re nothin’ to me. Nothin’ but’a speck on a whole map’a pricks.” 

Frank and the two sons at his side bristled with anger. Elvis didn’t flinch when he heard the sound of a gun’s safety being clicked off. He didn’t even bat an eye in their direction. 

“Then who the fuck took it?” Frank asked through clenched teeth, the veins in his forehead bulging. 

Elvis thought that the old man’s fat head might explode, especially if he kept tensing up like that. 

“Maybe ya should check out the nearby gas stations. I’m sure some junkie had a field day., is all” 

And Elvis was right. He hadn’t been the one to steal the product. . . but he did check out one of Frank’s warehouses. He preferred to keep an eye on his competition. 

Elvis didn’t invite the homeless man into the building. . . but he hadn’t exactly locked the door back behind himself when he left. 

“If you don’t start talking, Presley. . . I’ll carve that pretty littl-” 

Elvis might have been an older man, but he was still far faster and stronger than most men that were fifteen years his junior. He’d been in this game a very long time. Before Frank could even finish the sentence, Elvis had one arm wrapped around his throat, his other hand holding a smoking gun. 

The three men had been too shocked to have even heard the gunshot ring out in the penthouse. All they could do was blink dumbly at each other. 

That was before the pain kicked in, anyway. 

The shortest of Frank’s sons dropped to the floor, screaming out and clutching his shattered knee. The gun was already pointed at Frank’s other son before they could even recover from the surprise. 

Elvis pressed his lips against Frank’s ear and spoke through clenched teeth, tightening his hold around his throat. The room plummeted into silence, the only sound behind the boy’s whimpers of pain and the deep sound of the mob boss’s voice. 

The sound of your man’s voice. 

“Touch her and you’re dead.”

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior @18lkpeters @memphis-mania @rjmartin11 @artlover8992

and the big daddy crew: @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

[dollysionalstuff]

♡♡

🩷

[crybabybunnyartz]

I had this in mind, I think is a good idea

Also ask dollie

Rules:

Only appropriate questions (mean only safe topics)

None of them should be having swear words, dollie is sensitive.

Don't do anything weird to her

Try not to make her cry, or something..

And lastly, don't mention anything about her dad.. she doesn't like him, he's mean.

Anyways yeah go ahead and ask her

[dollymanghat]

Natal Chart Report With 40 Mins Talk REQUEST YOUR NATAL CHART 👉 👉 👉 https://dmtreasure.com/product/natal-chart-report-with-40-mins-talk/ Individuals who want to know the complete life path and overall analysis of their strengths/weaknesses, opportunities, and energies. . . .

[screwdoll]

1%, 27% and 31% please

Hahah you’re supposed to ask your phone battery silly but here we go

1% How many people have you had sex with?

11 🙊

27% Longest dry streak after you lost your virginity?

A year? Or a little over perhaps?

31% Describe your most unusual/taboo fantasy.

Mmm… idk about unusual (considering which corner of tumblr we’re at), but see this post for my lil childhood degen fantasy. 24/7 beloved slave/toy/pet is also just a huge fantasy, prob always will be. Implausible but yes please

[askollieandco]

Old blog titles because I’m looking back to the past huh

askbabyoliver askbakerkase askboxcutteroliver askcosplayeroliver askcreepycrollie askdemonoliver askdetectivesoliveranduna ask-florist-piko ask-I-seeu askmeandmystupidbrother askmonsteroliver asknotapsychic askoliverthescammer askpaperboyoliver askpikothecop askprostheticfukase askroyaltutoroliver asksharpestoliverintheworld asksollie askstreetartistoliver (or smth like that) asktheflower asktheflowerangels askthefunkyloids askthevocaswaps askdollie asktoxicoliver askunana askv3v4flowers askyoutuberoliver

Does anyone remember any of them?

[ask-dolly]

Update on Updates

Hey everybody, hope you’re all doing well. So as you’ve noticed Dolly hasn’t been getting updates for the past couple weeks, and this was due to the passing of two people I adored and my childhood dog. I’m not exactly all there, but I’m here enough to know it’s time to get back on track. But, there’s a lot of things coming too that you guys need to know:

1. This upcoming week is my final’s week My last semester in my community college before I go to big kid school! I’m wrapping up classes so there is some stress to complete things.

2. Taking a trip to Spain Yup, this kid’s gonna go international! I’ll be there from the 5th to 18th, but I’m trying to get as much as I can done so that I’ll actually have updates posting while I’m there. It’s a lot of work, but I want to make this count!

3. Getting together money for Bronycon 2017 I’m doing everything in my power to be there again, but I’m struggling financially. Commissions are an option while updating, I have a patreon open ( https://www.patreon.com/askdolly ), and I do what I can to scrap together some money, but we’ll see… Worst case scenario being that I sadly can’t go and will have to wait until next year. But doing my best to be with you all, I promise.

So those are the biggest factors that are messing with the updates, but I know they can be overcome to get to a better solution. The next update will be up on Wednesday by about 4 PM Pacific, and thank you to everyone who follows and now supports me on patreon. Take care!

-Loads of love from Scribbly

[deardollyz]

thoughts on case walker?

He made me dookie

[desertdollysdesires]

Have you ever been paddled?

Nooo 🥺 I really want to tho

[foreverdolly]

29 & 49, austin!tex, dark romance. I basically want more in that same universe as your other austin!tex work honey

𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐒 | 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧!𝐭𝐞𝐱 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

prompt: "I can't. . .please. . . I can't take it anymore." and "good boy."

word count: 2.5k

song: cinnamon girl - neil young

notes/warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT! a rosary is used for. . . stuff. this fic is absolutely filthy good lord. tex legit worships you and thinks of you as his own personal goddess. i hope you love this, baby.

Not before Tex, that is. 

Not before Tex, that is. 

Again and again, he had proved to you that he would never do anything that might put you in danger. You were the one thing in the world that he really wanted to protect. He’d been spiraling before he met you. He had been searching for a purpose, and now that he had found one? He wasn’t willing to ever let that go. Let you go. 

You knew that Tex was ultimately stronger and more capable in a fight, so he’d easily be able to keep you there with him even if you weren’t willing to stay. Yes, you had been taken against your will- but that didn’t mean that you had no control. If anything, you’d never felt more powerful in your life. 

Because Tex depended on you for happiness. 

You weren’t too far gone not to notice how unhealthy the relationship between you two was. It was codependent and it was unpredictable- but it was also passionate and real. He hadn’t been a very good person before he met you. He was pretty evil, actually. 

But he treated you like a Goddess. The man prayed to you before bed each night. You were his entire world. 

Maybe it was wrong of you to love it so much, but you did. It had been impossible not to fall in love with Tex. 

It felt nice getting away from the ranch for a few hours some nights. Both you and Tex were still formulating a grand scheme to get out of that house and away from Charlie. Though neither of you would say it, you knew that getting out as soon as possible was the best idea. 

The two of you would climb into whatever car was available and drive thirty minutes further up the mountain. The view was beautiful up there at night, what with all the stars and sprawling farmland. 

You hadn’t bothered asking whose car you were in when Tex hurriedly led you outside, excitedly jingling some car keys with his free hand.

 It was an old, weather worn truck. It had probably once been a beautiful mint green color, but now it was spotted with rust and small scratches. Still, the old thing started up without a problem when Tex turned the key. Smalltalk was hard when all the two of you did was spend time together. 

Surprisingly, Tex was fond of deeper, more intimate topics of conversation. He asked about whether or not having a family was important to you. He talked to you about theology and music. He talked about things that had happened in his past, and that those things most likely contributed to the way that he had turned out. How he had run into Charlie and got tied up in all of that mess. 

It was Tex’s desperate yearning for a family that led him on his current path of death and destruction. 

He was trying to change. Now whether it was because he genuinely disliked who he had become or solely to please you, you still weren't sure. 

Dropping acid in an old, rundown truck probably wasn’t a good idea. Especially since you were just off of the main dirt road. Tex had turned the headlights off, but anyone could bump into you on the way to their homes. You were too busy looking at Tex to really care too much though. 

His black dyed hair was starting to get even longer, his chestnut brown hair now visible at the roots. He was perfect with his big blue eyes and bubblegum lips. It was hard to keep your hands off of each other whenever you did any sort of drugs, especially psychedelics. All of your senses were heightened, and his skin somehow felt velvet soft against your fingers. You pressed your thumb against his lower lip, dragging it down ever so slightly so that you could get a better look at his lower teeth. One of his lower canines was slightly crooked, but other than that his teeth were perfectly straight. 

“I’ve never had one cavity in my life. I’ve been mighty blessed, I think.” He mumbled, his chest vibrating with each word. 

You were straddling him in the driver's side of the car, one of your knees tucked against the doorframe and the other one pressed against the armrest. You’d somehow ended up in his lap just a few seconds after the LSD kicked in. It was almost instantaneous with tabs. You’d learned to brace yourself for the odd wavy visuals. 

“Very blessed.” You nodded your head, biting your lower lip as you tried to keep yourself from smiling. 

Tex seemed to notice, his own lips pulling up into a wide grin to match yours. His palm had been resting on the middle of your back, but suddenly became aware of the fact that he was now brushing his hand up and down your side absentmindedly. Your entire body broke out in chills. He noticed the way you shivered, his eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Does that feel good?” He asked, blue eyes flickering down to your lips and then back up to stare into your eyes. 

You managed to nod, your hands moving up his chest and over his broad shoulders. It was his turn to shiver then, his grip on you tightening, pulling you further into his lap. Your fingers slipped under the collar of his shirt, feeling the skin of his back. 

Some days there was nothing to do around the house to pass the time aside from fucking. Listening to album after album while smoking pot was only fun for a limited amount of time, and there was nothing left to do except to chase a different sort of high. You couldn’t count how many times you and Tex had sex over the two months that you had been staying with him. Some days it was nonstop. The second that he caught his second wind he was pulling you back into the room that the two of you shared. 

Even after all of that though, it still hasn't lost its novelty. Your fingers explored the expanse of his chest like it was a foreign land, tracing each scar like you were making a roadmap out of them. And he was beautiful in the pale light of the moon. He was staring up at you as though you were some prophet, sent down to lead him to a new world. 

A better world. 

One by one, the two of you began to peel off articles of clothing, not caring where anything ended up. The man took advantage of the unusual height difference, leaning forward so that he could place an opened mouth kiss directly in the middle of your chest. His long eyelashes brushed against your collarbone, his long hair tickling your shoulder as he moved down, down, down. 

And then he was cupping your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands. 

“I’m so glad that these are mine.” He spoke so softly that you could barely make out what he was saying. 

There was nothing in the world that beat the feeling of Tex being seated up inside of you. You could feel every inch of him practically in your stomach, pushing up against your insides. It was deliciously painful now that you were on top, pushing him even deeper than usual. Tex had barely pulled down his jeans, in too much of a hurry to feel all of you to worry about his clothes. His belt buckle was digging into the sensitive skin of your thigh as you moved your hips against his. 

You didn’t care enough to tell him that it hurt, because you were positive that it would leave a mark. And you wanted that. Every bruise, bite mark or scratch was worn with pride. They were constant reminders that the both of you belonged to each other. 

Tex was usually the dominant one. He enjoyed taking care of you in bed. Being in control was something that he preferred. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust you to take the reins, but because he enjoyed watching your expressions. He loved pounding into your small, soft little body and listening to your sounds of pleasure knowing that he was the one that was causing it all. It was hard for him to do much of anything other than fuck up into you, meeting you halfway as you raised up and down on your knees. 

Your thighs were burning and quivering, but you didn’t care. Suddenly you understood just what was so good about being on top. Tex was a blubbering mess, his eyes blown out wide, cheeks a bright pink as he tried to control his breathing. Still, you continued to move against him, even when he gently began tapping at your hip, trying to silently communicate with you that he was close. 

You didn’t care. You even moved his hands away from sides when he tried to stop you, moving your hips even faster against his. 

“O-Oh fuck-” He panted, out, his hand clumsily bumping into the armrest as he tried to grip onto something- anything as the pleasure kept building. 

You recognized that look in his eyes. Knew he was about to cum- but you wanted it. 

“H-Honey. . .” He was trying to warn you and try to get you to stop. 

But he was too high and it all felt too good. Your hips were moving relentlessly against his, and your pussy was so warm and tight around him. He pressed his face into your chest as he climaxed, repeating your name again and again like it was some broken prayer. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you, pumping you full. Warming you up from the insides. You didn’t stop moving against him though. Even when you were sure that he was finished. 

He was a shaking mess, his eyes filled with tears as he pulled his face away from your chest so that he could look at your face. He looked pitiful, still shaking with the aftershocks of his climax as you continued using his oversensitive dick. 

“I can’t- please. . . I can’t take it anymore.” He was begging you. 

Despite his tears and twitching muscles, he didn’t make any move to try and get you off of him. He could have lifted you easily. 

You could feel that all too familiar tightening in your abdomen, and telltale sign that you weren’t too far off. Tex must have felt you tightening around him, because his hands, albeit a little shaky, moved to your hips. He helped you move on top of him, clenching his teeth and staring up at you. He was watching your face intently, wanting to watch you fall apart. 

“I-If you’re a good boy then I’ll reward you.” You panted out, bracing a hand on his bare chest. You were finding it hard to move anymore, the pleasure starting to render your limbs useless. 

The brunette’s blue eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose. 

“You’re gonna reward me by comin’ on my cock? I know I’ve got more cum to give you, so please. Keep goin’. Don’t stop.” He had such a filthy mouth. He never had a problem with telling you exactly how he felt. 

Normally you would have said something to him to egg him on, but the promise of being packed full with even more of his seed had you falling over the edge. His large hand reached up and gripped onto your throat as he felt your walls clench down hard around him, keeping your face tilted down so that he could see it. 

See your precious lips part and your eyes roll back. 

“G-God you’re so hot. Holy fuck.” The urge to squeeze your throat even tighter was overwhelming. Because you were just so soft and small compared to him. The urge to hurt you in bed was overwhelming sometimes. He wanted to leave bruises. Wanted to claim you in as many ways as he possibly could. 

It was your turn to be oversensitive. Tex continued his assault, thrusting his hips up into you as you loomed above him, trying to breathe through the comedown of your climax. He wasn’t going to give you even a second to rest though, because now he had an end goal. He wanted to cum inside of you twice without pulling out, and then enjoy the sheer amount of himself that was bound to pour out of that well loved pussy of yours. Your moans of pleasure were growing in volume, and the brunette was sure that he had seen a house less than a mile up the road. The last thing he needed was to get the cops called on the both of you, and so with frantic hands he tried to find something that he could use to muffle your screams. 

In his desperate searching his finger tugged at a long string of beads that had been haphazardly hung over the rearview mirror. The clasp gave out easily, the necklace tumbling down into the passenger seat. It was good enough for him. He gathered the long necklace up into his hand before shoving some of it into your mouth along with two of his long fingers. You gagged around him, your cunt clenching around him yet again but in shock. He let out a low growl, his breathing becoming more frantic. 

The long string of rosary beads that weren’t in your mouth felt cold against your chest. There was something that was so blasphemous about the scene. Something that was so wrong and debased that it had Tex beginning to shiver beneath you, eyes wide and glassy. He curled his fingers inside of your mouth, pressing against your tongue. 

And then he was cumming again, his head lolling back onto the headrest, the muscles in his biceps pulling tight. He breathed hard, moving one of his hands to press against your abdomen, and was pleased to find that he could feel himself twitching inside of you. 

Claiming you from the inside out. 

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior @18lkpeters @memphis-mania @rjmartin11 @artlover8992

and the big daddy crew: @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

[crybabybunnyartz]

Hey Dollie what do you think about mollie

( I couldn’t think of anything else I’m sorry ;-;)

Dollie: what can I say except.. she's nice

(thx @weirdcores-blog for asking)

[dollymanghat]

Natal Chart Report With 40 Mins Talk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMMIJfFyS5A Individuals who want to know the complete life path and overall analysis of their strengths/weaknesses, opportunities, and energies. REQUEST YOUR NATAL CHART 👉 👉 👉 https://dmtreasure.com/product/natal-chart-report-with-40-mins-talk/ . . .

[screwdoll]

Have you looked at what FetLife has to offer? Like all social networks, it's far from perfect, but you might find a munch or something to meet local ministers. Good luck!

thank you!! I got another app called Feeld - hope that’s not a secret nono in the community or anything 😬 I would get Fet too, but these apps are very overwhelming !!

[officialdollyparton]

Hey everyone! I’m doing a live Twitter Q&A on Sunday from 4pm-4:30pm Central time! Stop on by and ask me questions using the hashtag #AskDolly!  http://bit.ly/DollyQA

[desertdollysdesires]

Hey!

Just so you know,

All my original posts are tagged #dollysdesires

Asks are tagged #askdolly

Any art I post is not mine! I give credit to artists whenever I can but don’t always know who the artist is. If you see your art on my blog and you want it removed, please dm don’t report!

P.S. Minors are not welcome here!!

[foreverdolly]

For tut sleepover I’d love dad Elvis with 9 and 26 thank you!!!

𝐌𝐔𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐄 | 𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐦𝐨𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

prompt(s): "I love it." "I'm gonna puke." and "If it makes you feel any better then you can slap me. Lightly."

word count: 1.3k

song: fooled around and fell in love - elvin bishop

notes/warnings: this is for my 2.5k celebration! no triggers, this is a safe read. elvis is the best dad ever and loves you and your kids more than anything. we stan a girl-dad king.

The musician had grown up ridiculously poor. The kind of poor that had him eating nothing but corn bread for dinners some nights and living in government housing. He never grew up with many toys, but neither did the other boys from his side of town. They had to make do with what they had. 

The musician had grown up ridiculously poor. The kind of poor that had him eating nothing but corn bread for dinners some nights and living in government housing. He never grew up with many toys, but neither did the other boys from his side of town. They had to make do with what they had. 

An empty apple crate was a car if you tied a thick rope to the middle plank and took turns pulling one another in it. You could make forts out of broken branches and dead leaves, and the local streams were just as good as any saltwater swimming pool. 

His daughter had absolutely everything that he had grown up without. A nice big house, brand new clothes (without any patches in them), and more toys than any child would know what to do with. Instead of riding her tricycle around the house and terrorizing Miss Mary (his daughter loved to help her with the cooking), she was outside getting her hands dirty. His daughter was out in the front yard with a plate, one that she no doubt had to have stood up on her tiptoes to steal from the fine China cabinet. The baby blue dress that you had put her in just hours ago was practically black, mud splattered all over every visible inch of her tiny body. 

“Winnie!” He called out to her, hoping to get her attention. 

She didn’t look up, rather just slapped another fistful of mud onto the plate. He spluttered, feeling jilted by the act of her down right ignoring him. It wasn’t just any old plate that she was sullying either- it was your wedding china. It was cream colored porcelain with gold inlay- very expensive. He didn’t care about the price though, rather the fact that you and him had eaten your wedding cake off of it. 

Right on que, as if summoned by his panic, you appeared in the doorway behind him. You opened your mouth to ask him what he was looking at, but found out on your own very quickly. 

“Winona Mae!” You called out to her hurriedly, motioning her over with a forceful wave of your hand. “Come here, baby.” 

Elvis couldn’t help but huff in annoyance as his little girl stood up, plate in hand, and did exactly what you said. He should have known that she would listen to you over him. His brown suede jacket crinkled softly at his elbows as he crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his booted foot against the stones of the front porch, trying to look the part of an authoritarian. 

“Did you not hear me, lil girl?” He asked her once she was close enough. Her bare feet slapped against the stairs as she walked, and to his disbelief she shook her head. 

“I was busy cookin’.” Her little southern drawl was thick as she replied in a rather matter-of-fact tone. 

He couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh as she proudly held out the plate. You and your husband stared down at the mud, both knowing that it would be better to play along with her little game of make-believe. You were the first one to lean down, admiring her handy work with kind motherly eyes. She had placed small pebbles around the perimeter of the dirt mound, even going as far to place a few leaves and sticks on the very top. You surmised that it had to be a cake. 

You pretended to sniff the air, shooting her a wide grin soon after. “Oh my- what a beautiful cake. And it smells so delicious. How did I not know that you were such a talented baker?” 

It was moments like this that had Elvis falling in love with you all over again. Motherhood suited you beautifully. Here you were, happily playing with your daughter, your stomach swelling with his child. He had the family that he had always wanted as well as a wife that he adored. You were someone that truly saw him and his heart.  

“S’cause I didn’t wanna tell ya.” She got her sas from you, he supposed. 

Winnie smiled expectantly at Evis, staring at him expectantly. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing, not wanting to offend her. “It looks delicious, honey. Can I have a bite?” 

He pretended to scoop some up into his hand, then proceeded to fake chew. “It is delicious. That’s gotta be the best cake I’ve ever had.” 

“Well is mama gonna eat a slice?” It was almost like the girl didn’t realize she was coated in a thick layer of dirt. She was carrying on a conversation like everything was normal. 

Elvis was fully focused on his precious red carpets, wondering if they would ever recover from the stains they were no doubt about to endure. Thankfully you had heard what your daughter said and replied for him. 

“I’m sure I would love it, but mama can’t eat anything that might hurt the baby, and that much sugar would be bad for me.” You pointed at your rounded belly. “But I’m sure daddy would love to eat another slice.” You shot your husband an apologetic smile, but the expression was soon replaced with shock. 

“Winona, baby- don’t-” You hurriedly reached out for her, but it was too late. 

Elvis felt something cold and wet press against his mouth. He parted his lips to let out a surprised yell, which was a terrible idea. 

His daughter’s small hand was pressed against his mouth, force feeding him a fist full of mud. The earthy, gritty sludge had him doubling over the side of the porch to spit. His stomach churned as the horrific flavor hit his tongue. 

“I’m ‘bout to be sick.” He grumbled, his eyes tearing up as he tried to keep himself from dry heaving. 

Instead of sympathy on your end, he heard. . . laughter? Sure enough, you were doubled over as well, but for entirely different reasons. The white turtleneck that he was wearing under his jacket was stained, his perfect face marred with mud and chunks of grass. The usually well kept, perfectly put together man was an absolute mess. The ungodly moans and groans of disgust made the moment even more comical. 

“Are you laughin’ at me?” He gasped, his large hands braced on his knees. 

“If it makes you feel any better, you can slap me. Lightly.” You teased, only for another round of giggles to pour out of your mouth as he leaned back down, gagging dramatically loud. 

“E-Elvis? Did you hate my cake that bad?” His daughter's small voice sounded dejected as she stared up at him, her big eyes and long lashes downcast. 

He was too preoccupied with trying not to puke his guts out to correct his daughter when she called him by his first name.

No matter how disgusting it was, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for his reaction. He was sure that anyone else in his position would have acted the same way, but his daughter had him wrapped around her little finger. He should have just chewed and swallowed it; he couldn’t stand to see her upset.  “Baby, I loved it,” A pause, then another gag.”I loved it so much that I just had to spit it out, that way I could get to enjoy the slice twice.”