#it's been such a good time to be an elvis fan

[dannyboy-writes]

Just some

okay so this started as something and drifted but im going with it! will prob make a pt2

Meeting the love of your life in the workplace is not the best idea, especially when you have to work together after breaking up.

Especially when the work is undercover as a couple.

“Look, I don’t want this anymore than you do, so let’s just do the work and get it over with,” Natasha said, dropping her bags in the house you were assigned to.

The Jones, married couple in hopes of starting a family.

Everything you and Natasha were not.

“I’ll take the spare room, you can take the main one,” you shrugged, making your way to the room to get settled in.

You unpacked your bags and laid in the hard mattress, kicking off your shoes. Questioning yourself whether the grey shape in the ceiling was mould, or if you were in fact, losing your mind.

It looked like Elvis.

A knock on your door lured you away from the shape, and you groaned, leaning up.

“I’m going to shower,” Natasha told you. “Is that okay, or do you want to go first?”

“Uhm, you go. I’ll check if the equipment is ready for the stake out.”

She nodded and left, as you got fully off the bed, grabbing a pen and notebook and heading to the dining table, to get the inventory.

Some time later Natasha took your place with the notebook as you left for the shower.

You hummed a soft melody as you dried yourself and tied your towel loosely around your waist, putting on a shirt on your still damp torso.

“We should have bought something to eat,” you complained, looking in the empty fridge. “I’m starving.”

Natasha looked towards you, taking in your tousled hair and the droplets of water falling off it and into your shirt, which was already sticking to you, restricting your moves, but also showing off your muscles and figure.

A frown in your eyebrows and a familiar melody coming off you, as you went through the many cabinets and drawers there were. One specific strand of hair, sticking in your forehead bothered her.

A wave of your hand took her off her trance, “Natasha, I asked if you want pizza?”

She blinked twice to recompose, unsure. “Yes, I do. With peppers,” she added.

You muttered a ‘Yeah, I know, and extra cheese,’ before picking your phone up and calling a restaurant.

“So, how’s inventory going?” You asked her.

She hummed, “Rather boring…” And she moved forward to you, sticking her hand in your face, moving a loose strand of hair out of the way.

She earned an eyebrow raise and your face, stoic.

“It was bothering me, sorry.”

You chuckled. “Bothering you, huh. Spend a lot of time checking my hair lately?”

Her face turned as red as her hair, definitely not expecting that reaction. “Just some of it,” she decided.

You ate in almost deafening silence, only humming in delight, and both of you decided an early night’s sleep would be good for the tension built in the room.

You weren’t sure if it was the mattress’ rock resemblance, or Elvis gazing at you from above, or Natasha’s words, but rest did not come easy.

Shifting from one side to the other, finding no cavity in the surface. The cover was too thick, and the fan too loud and timid in its cooling function. 

The window showed just enough light that you could make the outlines of the furniture in the room, and you followed carefully and almost with perfect precision each and every angle.

To your annoyance, the bedside clock glowed too much in the dark. Its led lighting the room red. A ’2:43’ burning your eyelids.

Just some of it.

And her calloused fingers tracing your forehead.

You decided it was definitely the fan’s loud whirring, and turned over, hoping to rest.

You rose with the sun the next day, shining warmly across the room, hitting your face with just a little too much light.

You could hear Natasha cleaning up in the kitchen and so you made your way there, stopping to clean your face quickly in the bathroom.

“Morning,” she told you. “There’s fresh coffee.” She pointed with her head towards the machine, and you nodded.

She had been training.

Maybe even gone for a run in town, you weren’t sure. 

Her hair had been neatly tied in a braid, before it disarmed with the movement, and you could still see the waves it had formed. You could still remember the way it fell after a long day, or a mission. 

“Sleep any good,” she asked you, blinking you out of your trance.

“Not really.” You poured some coffee into a mug and took a sip. “You?”

“Hm, some. The mattress could be better.” 

You laughed, “You should try mine, it almost feels like the one in Bagdad.”

She laughed too. “I take it back, my mattress is alright.”

You hummed, drinking some more coffee. “Did you go for a run?” 

“Oh, yeah. Town’s apparently dead at 7, it was peaceful.” She told you, “Why?”

“No nothing, your hair is– Well it looks like you ran.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Spend a lot of time looking at my hair?” She teased.

You choked on your coffee, your face heating up.

“Uhm, some of it, I guess.”

She grinned at you, her eyebrow still up high. But with a softness still.

Part II

[semperamans]

benny pulling his bike into the garage at his girl’s place to get some work done on it when the body on it isn’t looking too hot. his girl pulls up an old pool chair and watches him work.

and, see, she just came out to watch benny work. but she didn’t expect watching those hands turn the ratchet or buff out the dings. she keeps clenching her thighs tighter and tighter and sliding down down down in her seat… 🧿

eeeeeek! <3 changed it just a bit, but hope you still like it <3

"y'know in some places it gets so hot you can fry an egg on the street," cal says, perched on the vamps of his boots, leaning over benny's shoulder. it sure feels like that'd be possible today. benny, who drips sweat from his head to his toes, shoots a glare over his shoulder. he doesn't give a fuck about frying eggs not when he's this warm and this tired and his bike is leaking again. he turns his attention back to the matter at hand, the bike, this stupid fucking bike. the sun holds tight to the metal and shines so bright benny can't see anything and everything scorches his skin when he touches it and god damn why isn't there at least one cloud in the sky? he lets out a frustrated sigh, flicks his cigarette onto the street, and tears off his soaked white tank top. "wan' me to get y'some sunscreen?" cal chirps and no. benny doesn't want sunscreen and he doesn't want cal breathing down his neck. "no man just get the fuck outta here." "fine, fine." cal stands, wiping his greasy fingers on the already stained white of his undershirt. "someone's a grouchy fuckin' gus today. s'not my fault your bike leaks more than my momma at an elvis show." and that makes benny chuckle. "you're sick. go on somewhere." "fine. m'gonna swim. maybe your girl'll finally let me use that unicorn float of hers." benny doesn't respond, just shakes his head as cal continues talking to himself, long legs carrying him up the front walk where he stops and shimmies out of his levis leaving a puddle of denim at the base of the stairs. your place has been a hot spot as of late. with your father gone on business and your momma always away at her various clubs, your pool is the place to find any of the chicago vandals. it's a thin crowd today. there's wahoo and corky, who have more fun beating the shit out of each other with pool noodles than they do swimming, zipco, sonny, and johnny and they're good company, but you miss your boy.

"god damn it, cal if you don't get away from me." benny warns hearing the familiar flop of plastic against asphalt. but it's not cal, just you. "well, that's no way to greet a lady," you hum and benny nearly hits his head on the handlebars. he turns, smiling sheepishly. "m'sorry baby, just so fuckin' aggravated at this piece of shit." he wipes new grease onto his jeans, reaching for the glass of lemonade you've brought him, and yeah, the sun is hot but you are in a league of your own. swimsuit snug on your body, heart-shaped sunglasses hiding your eyes, floppy sunhat drooping into your field of vision. you're a sight for sore eyes and benny's eyes fucking ache. "what're you doin' out here, mm?" benny asks as you settle a picnic blanket on the grass on the other side of his bike. "just wanna spend time with you." you say, laying back, spreading your arms, welcoming the sun. "tryna distract me?" "no sir, just wanted to be by you." "mm, okay." benny finishes the glass, smudged fingerprints over the dainty design, and sets his sights on fixing this leak once and for all.

the sun hangs lower in the sky, but benny is hyper-focused; eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip bit as he ratchets a bolt back into its socket and my god is he beautiful. you're on your stomach now, legs up, sun caressing the pads of your feet as you kick them back and forth back and forth back and forth and if benny were a tv show you'd be the top watcher. the biggest fan. a bead of sweat tumbles down his cheek, and plunks into the concave curve of his clavicle and why do you want to lick it off? it's disgusting you tell yourself but you just can't help it. you'd chase it with your tongue, draw designs with saliva along the defined bone and down down down his happy trail and straight on til morning if given the opportunity. you'd do more, even. bite the silver button of his jeans with your teeth, tug the fabric away revealing- you have to shake the thought from your head and scold yourself and it does nothing because things get progressively worse when he reaches for a rag, sprays god knows what on it, and begins buffing the chrome exhaust pipe. his tattooed arms flex, the muscles straining and relaxing as he moves them up and down and up and down and you're dizzy as you think about what he does when he's alone in the dark of his room, legs tangled in bedsheets. your eyes latch onto the tattooed heart bearing your name. it's tinged red, glistening with perspiration, almost appearing to weep and you want to latch your teeth onto it, mar his pretty skin with indentations of your canines. drink him in until you're satiated and this heat must be making you crazy because jesus what is wrong with you? "what's on your mind doll?" benny's ears perked up at the first little whimper you unknowingly let out and ever since he's just been watching. peeking up every so often to see the muscles in your thighs clench. the jump in your jaw. the want seeping out of every pore. "nothin'" you say, giving him your best smile. benny nods, disbelieving. "wanna jump in the pool after?" "no." you say, too quickly. "no there is something i need to show you, actually." "yeah?" "mm." "where?" "my room." and benny has a feeling this day is about to get a whole lot hotter.

[natailiatulls07]

Do you have anymore platonic fics in those drafts of yours 👀

The f1 fandom has a severe drought of those and your my supplier lol

The Menace

Austin Butler x female!reader Formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Summary - After Y/n’s boyfriend cheated on her, she really had that post break up glow!!

Warning - swearing, alcohol, cheating, break ups

A/n - Your wish is my command, currently sat in the hairdressers with toner on lolll 😚

Few notes -

1. No shame to Austin Butler

2. Face claim is Kaia Gerber

3. Reader drives for Ferrari, taking Carlos’ spot

-

f1gossip

Rumour has it: Ferrari driver Y/n L/n and her boyfriend, actor Austin Butler have been rumoured to be broken up after Butler was seen in a club just outside of London Soho. L/n had to dnf from the Sunday race in São Paulo last weekend after her car suffered some mechanical damage in the formation lap.

Liked by username and 2,836 others

username After the season Y/n had this year in Ferrari, she doesn’t deserve this!!!

username Oooo he has fucked up!

= username Lost a rare find, he’ll never find one like herrrr

username Y/n just get with me, I’ll treat you right😚

f1gossip

Rumour has it: After it was rumoured that Ferrari driver Y/n L/n and actor Austin Butler had broken up, L/n was seen this morning supposedly with bloodshot and puffy eyes on the streets of not so sunny Monte Carlo. With a few days to go until the new Las Vegas Grand Prix, how will Y/n spend her short time off?

Liked by username and 3,922 others

username Poor girl is going through a breakup but paparazzi still want to barge into her busy, disgusting 😒

username She still slays tho!!

username I would say she’ll get redemption in Vegas but with the car atm I highly doubt

= username AGREED

username Hoping for a post break up glow 🥹

= username OMFG CAN YOU IMAGINE 🥵🤤

scuderiaferrari

Las Vegas…we’re coming for you

Liked by f1 and 87,926 others

username Hoping for a good Ferrari weekend pleaseee

username After Y/n’s break up she deserves a miracle this weekend 🙌🏻

username Charles what are you wearing??? 😃

username Just wait it we all see Austin crawling back for her, just you wait!!

username Polar opposites, Charles all dressed up and Y/n keeping it simple but effective

username Please someone beat Max and get first PLEASEEE

yourusername

Any boys in Las Vegas, I’m here early but please no Elvis 🤮

Liked by georgerussell and 107,936 others

username YOOO MISS GURL

username She really out here shaming him publicly. Love it 😍

landonorris And this is why we call you the menace

= yourusername So glad I live up to the name 😋

username austinbutler Look what you missed out on loll

username Not her mentioning his biggest role and then putting a throwing up emoji next to it LMAO

maxverstappen1 Y/n don’t get to crazy

= yourusername No promises 😇

= danielricciardo She is definitely going to get black out drunk tonight omfg

= maxverstappen1 100%

austinbutler

Never really liked red Ferrari, it’s tacky and old fashioned

Liked by username and 54,926 others

username Oh shit he’s fighting back!!

username Their pr teams are gonna be so annoyed with both of them frrr

username Patiently waiting for mother to put him in his rightful spot 😌

yourusername Everyone is a ferrari fan, even if they say they’re not, they are Ferrari fans - Sebastian Vettel 😚

~~ Liked by sebastianvettel and 123,037 others

username OMFG SHE SNAPPED BACKKK

username The Menace is back at it again!! 🙌🏻🙌🏻

charles_leclerc Sort yourself out mate

~~ Liked by yourusername and 109,935 others

username Not both Ferrari drivers clapping back LMAO

yourusername

Babes get over yourself 🍾

Liked by lewishamilton and 113,025 others

username Girl really said ‘Calm your fucking ego down’ 🙌🏻

username LOVING THIS 🤍🤍

username Hot ass female driver and some random drivers

sebastianvettel Loved see the grid again, thank you

= yourusername Always 🫶🏻

username austinbutler

username You just know that Y/n and Lewis were best dressed there!! Hands down!!

mickschumacher You definitely brought the party 👏🏻👏🏻

= yourusername It’s my job Mickey!!

username THE CAPTION She really is the menace!!! 🤩

f1 posted a story

username FERRARI DRIVERS ARE SERVING CUNT OMFG 😍😍

username Y/n is really showing her really style and I’m living for itttt

username THE HAIR SUNGLASSES MAKEUP AND WHOLE OUTFIT 🥵🥵

username Charles really let her have spot light and rightfully so!!!

username Austin really fumbleddd

-

[jhoneybees]

Re: your last post, i would love to see more fics where reader just gets to love on BDE and show him how much he deserves gentleness and affection 🥹 maybe he’s just come home from a tour that didn’t go so well and he’s exhausted and hurting, and we home make his favorite meal and feed it to him and give him a bath and read to him in bed and just remind him that he is so much more to us than just Elvis the entertainer and we love him for the person he is!!

We definitely need more of these comfort fics! Thank you for requesting!🥹

You're welcome

Characters: Late 70s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: body aches, a bit of baby talk, insecurities

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @another-identityofmine @i-r-i-n-a-a @theelvisprincess @thelonelyheart @polksaladava

_____________________________________________

Elvis has always worked so hard when it comes to his career, it’s what brings him joy, he tells you all the time that God put him into his life to entertain people and he never wants to disappoint his fans but sometimes he doesn’t know when to slow down to rest and that gets you worried.

So worried that when he came through the front door, dripping with sweat and grunting a little in pain your heart broke into a million shards.

“Oh honey.” You gasp, running over to wipe the sweat off his face with the towel he has around his neck. Huffing when you watch the mafia walk past him making their way into the jungle room, laughing and carrying on.

“How’s my baby, hm?” he asks, smiling tiredly as his hands go to cup your cheeks, giving you a kiss.

“I should be asking you that, are you feeling okay?” Your eyebrows furrow, clicking your tongue as Elvis struggles to move his weight from one leg to the other. “Oh, Elvis…”

He sighs but then chuckles quietly seeing your worried face. “I’m alright, darling.” showing his pearly whites as your delicate hands go over his calloused ones, looking at him so worryingly.

“No, you’re not alright…let me take care of you, baby, I’ll go tell the guys to go home and I made you your favourite sandwich and-”

“That’s real sweet of ya, baby, real sweet but I’m alright.” He coos, pressing a kiss onto your forehead to stop you from talking before you lose your breath.

You shake your head, moving his hands away from your face. Holding them gently in yours. “I can see you’re really tired, Elvis, you’re groaning in pain…you had a long day.”

He grumbles. Looking from one eye to the other, he looks down at your intertwined hands.“I’m really alright, baby-”

“Let Satnin take care of ya…she’s been worried.”

He lifts his gaze.

Reaching up to peck his cheek, you smile when he mumbles. “...Okay”

__

“Baby?” You call out, putting Elvis’ sandwich down on his bedside table and closing the door. You look around the bedroom to find him not in the room so you make your way into the bathroom and smile when you see him leaning back against the bathroom sink, rubbing his face with his hands in just his little white pants. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi…” he replies quietly, closing his eyes briefly to focus on the feeling of your hand on his cheek.

“Let’s run you a bath, hm?”

“...Mhm.”

You beam, delicately. Walking over to turn the bath on and pour some bubbles in, you grab his hand. “Now, let’s get you out of these undies.”

Then his cheeks start to red when you grab the elastic, stopping your hands from pulling his pants down. “I-I-I-I can get in the bath on my own.”

“Okay.” Watching his face, carefully, you move your hands away and grin when he looks at you shyly.

“Can ya…uh…”

“Turn around?”

He hesitantly nods, blushing.

“Okay.” You giggle and start to walk out of the bathroom, grabbing his robe that’s resting on the bed. After a few moments you go back in, Elvis is sitting in the water and you sit yourself down on the edge of the bath. “Nice and warm?” Dipping your hand in to feel the temperature, you lean down to kiss his cheek as he hums . “Good.”

For the next hour or so, you take your time to wash his hair getting all the sweat and dirt washed out and calmly pour water over his shoulders with a cup to clean his body with soap. You make sure he’s nice and clean. Kiss his cheek as you finish up and reach over for a towel, telling him it’s time to get out of the bath.

“Want me to blow dry your hair?” You ask quietly, turning back around to face Elvis after he puts his robe on. “Or just towel dry?” Looking up at him and lifting your arm to play with hair, he nods silently breathing through his nose as your fingers scratch his scalp a little.

“Towel dry…the blow dryer’s too noisy.”

“Alright, c’mon.” Holding his hand gently, you pick up his towel and pull him into the bedroom. Telling him to sit down on the bed, you climb up in front of him and begin to rub the towel on his head. Laughing quietly to yourself at how he scrunches his nose.

“Squeaky clean!” You say with a big smile after making sure his hair is completely dry, you can’t help melting at how he looks at you with his pretty blue eyes just calmly observing.

“I love you.” You whisper suddenly, talking to him in a motherly voice. Smiling when he says it back and pulls on your shirt wanting you closer, you fix his hair a little. “Okay, okay, lean back up there… get yourself comfortable. I’ll go put this back in the bathroom.”

“Don’t want ya ta leave.” He pouts.

You giggle, pecking his nose. “2 seconds.”

He huffs a little as you walk away but when you come back, he does grabby hands towards you and you laugh at how needy he can get. “Alright, alright, I’m back!”

You tap his leg to get him to go under the blankets and as you join him, giving him a kiss on the lips, your hand reaches over to pick up the plate with his sandwich on it. “Here.” Giggling seeing his eyes light up and excitedly take the food.

“Thank you.” He smiles, happily taking a bite of his sandwich.

You smile back and begin to comb your fingers through his hair.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Fame pt.4

Austin Butler X Actress! Reader

Summary: Y/n and Austin meet in L.A, the paparazzi capture their meeting...

Warning: Use of Y/n/ Bad photo editing (I'm trying)/ spelling mistakes.

@Fame.inside:

@Fame.Inside: Actress @Y/n.Y/l/n and actor @Austin.Butler on a date today. Could it be the start of a new relationship?

Liked by 183 281 people.

Comments disabled

-

"They're looking at us." Y/n couldn't care less about the paparazzis. Yes, she and Austin were eating together. Yes, it would be seen as if they were on a date, but she didn't care. She was enjoying her time with Austin, conversation was easy and they had a lot in common.

"You were astonishing in Elvis. I mean it." She praised him. Austin blushed and chuckled a bit. "Thank you, I've been a fan of yours since you did Grown Ups 2" She starts to laugh as she remembers her role in the movie. She was Nancy, the girl Greg had a crush on. "I was like, 18 while filming" She laughed.

Their date went well, except for the paparazzi and what the gossip pages had to say about them.

Paparazzi saw the two of them on what appeared to be a romantic date earlier this week. Y/n and Austin had been flirting for a while before they went out together. Could it be the start of a new relationship?

-

She couldn’t believe how well their dinner went. Even if they got caught by paparazzi. When she came home that night, she giggled like a twelve year old. Sabrina was called immediately, getting informed on details of the "date." Sabrina informed Barry, and he gave the details to Callum.

Y/n felt like a teenager again, kicking her feet as she thought about him. It was a little bit pathetic, but it's been a while since she felt like this. Even though the date was not officially a date, it felt like one.

Austin had a good feeling when he closed his apartment door. Y/n was a wonderful person. Conversation was easy with her, and her laugh was contagious. So, the first thing he decided to do was to send her flowers. To show her that she was more than a friend.

@Y/n.Y/l/n added to their story

Caption: I love flowers even more when they're from Elvis 🤍

-

"Oh, come on! You two are worse than middle schoolers! She liked the flowers, get over it!" Callum signs. Austin has been looking at his phone for 5 minutes straight. Watching Y/n's story as if it was the last thing on earth. Austin glanced at the story one last time before closing his phone. "I know, I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Kinktober Day 4 - Stockings

Pairing: 1970!Elvis x reader

Word count: 1K

TWs: Praise kink, Elvis calls reader Mama, stockings are heavily involved, subby!Elvis, blowjob, handjob.

A/N: This is a bit of a request from @polksaladava - I hope I did it justice!

Kinktober masterlist

Elvis runs his foot up and down between your stockinged calves. He loves the feeling of nylons against his skin, and they feel particularly good right now, with him naked pressed up against you in your lingerie. 

You bite your lip and look up at him. 

“You like them?

He nods. “Feels good.”

“How good?”

“Really good.”

“You wanna… try them on?”

He stares for a second and then frowns. “Think I’d stretch them, baby. My feet are a bit bigger than yours.”

You notice he hasn’t freaked out, or told you he’s not gay, or asked you what the hell you’re talking about. His only issue seems to be stretching your stockings. You shrug. 

“You can just buy me some nice new ones, then.” Your fingers tangling in his hair. 

He smiles a little. He’s sorely tempted. They do feel so nice. And he likes to do what you ask.

“Well okay then.”

You smile back and slip your garter off, before slowly rolling a stocking down your leg. You shift a little and then carefully pull it over his foot and up his leg, trying hard not to snag it. His foot is far too big for it, but you manage to get it just over his knee anyway, and then glide the garter up too. He giggles, rubbing one leg against the other. 

“You want the other?” You ask.

“Well I’d look silly with just one, honey.”

You both dissolve into a fit of giggles, heads pressed together, his apple cheeks prominent and his eyes shining. 

“Alright then.”

You repeat the process on the other leg, then sit back to admire your work. He admires you right back, enjoying the way your skimpy lingerie is hugging your curves. He’d always been a fan of white lace, but you’ve turned him on to black. You’ve turned him on to a lot of things he thought he didn’t like before he met you. Biting your lip, your eyes move up to his dick, watching it twitch. You can’t tell if it’s because your breasts are almost spilling completely out of your bra, or if it’s got something to do with the stockings. It’s making your mouth water, either way. 

You crawl up between his thighs, running your hands up his legs before settling on your front with your hands on either side of his dick. You look up at him and he moves his hands above his head to grip onto the bed frame, obediently. You don’t even have to handcuff him these days.   

He lets out a moan as you lick the tip, one hand moving to massage his balls. 

“You look so pretty like this, baby,” you tell him, licking him from the base to the head like his dick is a lollipop. 

“Mmmm.”

A few more licks and then you kneel instead, one hand running up and down his stockinged leg as you take him into your mouth. His chest heaves and he watches you through hooded eyes. You let him hit the back of your throat once, enjoying the guttural moan that comes along with it, and then pull off entirely, spit sliding down his length. 

“Does my pretty baby like dressing up for Mama?” You tease. 

“Mmmm. Y-yes. Yes, Mama.”

His words make you grin. He is so well-trained nowadays, unlike when you met him. He was all, you need to style your hair like this, only speak when you’re spoken to, wear the underwear I like. But he’s the same as all men; he likes to cum. So it was easy for you to train all that bossiness out of him. Well. You still let him act like it around the guys, it wouldn’t do to ruin his image after all. But the bedroom is your domain. 

“Good. You’re a good boy aren’t you? A good boy for Mama,” you coo. 

He nods enthusiastically. “I’m good,” he says, staring at you almost desperately, as if he’s trying to convince you. 

You smirk, pumping him a few times with your hand before you let go, getting off the bed entirely and going to look for something in a drawer. He whines. 

“Shh.”

His breathing comes in harsh pants, wanting you back on the bed, wanting contact on his aching dick, just wanting, but knowing he can’t move his hands. Eventually he sees you return with a single stocking. 

“Think you’re going to have to buy me a few more pairs of these, baby.”

He nods. “Whatever you want, Mama.”

You grin again. “Good boy.”

Slipping your mouth back over him, you tease him, licking and sucking until he gets close and then slowing your movements down again. Repeating over and over. He moans and starts to plead.

“Mama. Please.”

“You wanna cum?”

Nodding, almost unable to speak. 

You giggle, sitting back on your knees and rubbing your hands up and down his legs, enjoying the silky smoothness of the nylon there. Then you grab the other stocking. 

“Let’s see how much you like my stockings, shall we?”

His eyes are like saucers when you wrap the stocking around his length and start to work his dick with it. It feels so good. You watch with delight as his hips buck into your hand and filthy moans fall from his lips. 

“That’s it, good boy. Cum for Mama.”

He grunts as he cums, long and hard over your hand, the stocking and his belly. You stroke him through it and then let go, sitting back to look at him all over again. 

“That’s a pretty mess you’ve made, isn’t it baby?”

He whines. “Fuck. Yes Mama. Please…”

“Let go,” you say softly, and he stops holding on to the bed frame. 

You move so you’re next to him on the bed, then pull him into your arms, so you’re wrapped around him. He sighs with pleasure feeling you press against his back. This is his favourite part. Not the sex, though he loves that. The cuddling afterwards, when he feels like you love him the most. 

“That was so good,” he whispers, after a while. 

You kiss the back of his neck. “I liked it too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But maybe we need to buy you your own stockings.”

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @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

[rebelliousstories]

Old Habits

Relationship: Austin Butler x Reader

Fandom: Austin Butler RPF

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Insecurites

Word Count: 1,386

Main Masterlist: Here

Austin butler Masterlist: Here

Summary: Preparing for his new film, Austin starts to freak out once his voice starts slipping.

Waking up in the morning, with birds chirping and the sun shining, Austin was happy to wake up and see her face. There was very little that brought him joy quite like waking up to that image. Sunlight beaming down and her eyelashes tickling her cheeks. She looked so peaceful just lying there, in one of Austin’s shirts. Her breath fanned out across his bare chest, and he unfortunately had to get up to start his day.

With great difficulty, he set his girl back down on her pillow and went to get ready. Austin’s shower was heating up while he brushed his teeth. Smaller arms wrapped around his torso while he was rinsing his mouth, and he chuckled. Spitting the last bit of water out, he shut off the faucet and turned to face his lover.

“Good morning, baby. You awake?” He questioned, letting her fall into his chest again with a sleepy yawn. Austin chuckled, and set to rubbing her back for a brief second.

“Want to shower with me?” She nodded, and let her boyfriend take the shirt off before he moved to his own clothing. They stepped underneath the stream together, and took turns washing and rinsing. No words were spoken, but there was no need for them to. Austin stayed underneath to wash his hair while she stepped out to go get ready. Afterwards, he stepped out after turning the shower off, and slung the towel across his hips.

Austin was busy applying product to his hair as he heard rustling in the next room over. They switched places for her to do her hair and makeup while he got into his clothing. His eyes drifted over to the bathroom periodically to watch her. She was just finishing up when Austin slipped on his shoes. Reaching into his bedside drawer, his gold chain, and ring was placed on, followed shortly by his watch. His lover came over and placed a kiss to his forehead so as to not disturb his hair.

“Gotta go to a table read today, baby. I’ll be home by dinner. Think about where you want to go. I’m treating us tonight.” He said with certainty, kissing his girl and gathering the rest of his things.

“Okay, hun. I’ve just got to get some stories run by the office and then I should be home by four at the latest. I love you.” She pressed another kiss to his lips, and giggled as she rubbed the lipstick off. Grabbing a bag, her wallet and keys, she rushed out the door with a final farewell out of the door. Austin smiled, and turned his attention to gathering his own things, but paused when he saw the photo of them on his nightstand.

It was from the premiere of Elvis a few years ago where they had announced their relationship for the world. She had worked as a story developer for the movie industry, and it just so happened that she was working on Elvis this time around. Her presence was usually on set in some form or another, meaning that Austin spent a lot of time around her. A three year long process had cultivated in a phenomenal performance, and an incredible relationship.

He had offered to make her his plus one to the premiere, and she had shown up in a gorgeous 50’s style evening dress that matched his suit to a tee. Ever since then, they had been so happy. There were highs and lows, just like every relationship, but they always came out stronger together. The script he was reading for was a new movie about a biker gang from the 60’s; The Bikeriders. It was always a fun challenge doing a period piece for him, but he was certain that this was going to be a great film to make. At least, that is what he hoped for.

The rest of the day passed without a hitch for her. It was a normal work day. She was biding her time until she could officially clock out and get home to get ready for her date with her lover. As soon as the clock hit four, she packed up her desk, clocked out, and practically ran out of the door. The car ride home was filled with anticipation for the night ahead, but when she pulled in, confusion hit her hard. Austin’s car was already parked in the driveway. He was supposed to be home later than her, not before.

Making her way inside, she cautiously set down her bag and keys before searching the rooms. Nothing in the living room, nor the kitchen. However, pushing open the bedroom door, she was met with a pitiful sight. Austin was curled up on top of the covers in a fetal position. Softly kicking her shoes off, she made her way over to the bed and placed a hand on her lover.

“Aus, honey, what are you doing here?” She cooed softly. The man did not respond for a minute, but turned to lay in her lap without a word.

“Oh sweetheart, what’s going on? What happened?” Once more she tried to get a response out of him, but her words died when she saw the tears that stained his face. He grasped at her clothing and buried his face into her top as a tear fell out. She ran one hand up and down his back, and the other through his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“Is it anything that I can help with? I gotta know, Austin.” Once he was able to calm himself, Austin turned out of her to face his girl. His head was still in her lap, but now he could gaze up at her.

“It’s nothin’ that you can help with.” His words choked up as he spoke, and fresh tears ran down his face.

“What happened?” She pressed again.

“I… I went to go do the script read. We were all sittin’ round the table and, my voice. It just- it slipped. And I can’t get it back, baby. Nothin’ is workin’.” He wailed, scrubbing his hands over his face. The longer he talked, the more she understood what had caused her boyfriend to become so upset.

“Elvis came back out, didn’t he?” Austin confirmed her theory with a nod, and more tears ran down his face. They were starting to stain her legs beneath, but neither one cared too much about that.

“Did you call your coach?”

“He ain’t available right now.”

“Honey, look at me,” her hands removed his from his face, “we’ll get through it. Just like we did last time. But hey, you stayed in that voice for three years. You’re going to have slip ups now and again. It’s natural. It’s just a minor set back. You’ll be okay.”

“And what if I can’t? What if I can’t get tried of it this time? I don’t know who I am when it slips in.” Austin lamented. While they did not fall, tears remained in his eyes as he thought about the alternative.

“Then we’ll get through it like last time. We’ll find a way to get around it. I’m not letting you be helpless during this, honey. Believe me, please.” She comforted her lover, who finally was able to crack a smile for the first time in hours.

“There’s my man. Such a pretty smile on such a pretty face.” The blush that came across his face made him turn to hide it, which caused her to giggle as she tried to turn him to see his face again.

“Now, do you still wanna go have dinner, or do you wanna stay in?” He rubbed his face again and laid down on his back once more. Austin chuckled out a breath, and sniffled lightly.

“Wanna go to that diner on fifth? I could use a burger and a milkshake.” Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to his lips and patted his chest upon her ascent.

“Let’s do it. Gotta change my clothes though.” Austin rolled off and watched as his lover picked out a new set of clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom. All he could think about in that moment, was how lucky he was to have a lover and partner like her.

[dreamersparacosm]

austin butler - clumsy

warnings ; none

prompt ; in which your celebrity crush causes you to become a flustered, blubbering mess.

a/n ; a little something fun i wrote during the fall but never published! it’s basically anxious!reader and honestly how I imagine myself reacting to meeting aus so enjoy xoxo

Okay, don’t panic.

Do not panic.

It’s just a man. A man with blonde, curly locks, blue eyes, over 6 feet tall��� but still, a man. Nothing special. You could probably find ten of him walking down Rodeo Drive.

Except that’s probably not true either.

It is Austin Butler, after all.

You hike the tail of your dress higher as you descend up the stairs to the red carpet, inhaling as much oxygen as possible to tame your nerves. It does nothing for you beside provide a placebo effect of calmness. Your publicist, Jane, stands next to you with her eyebrows furrowed in permanent worry, a crinkle she’s had since the day she took you on. “[Y/N], did you get a chance to look at your seating arrangement?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” You respond slowly, wincing slightly as you brace yourself for her reaction. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning towards you.

“You know what, that’s fine, sweets. Just go stand on the carpet so we can take these pictures,” She goes back to her clipboard full of tedious things like timing and interviewers and stupid seating arrangements, and you’re trying to stay focused, but how can you do that when Austin Butler is standing 8 feet away from you, posing on the red carpet?

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling.

Whoever keeps leaving his shirts unbuttoned is a menace to society and needs to be locked away for endangerment to the general public.

This whole idiotic schoolgirl crush began relatively long ago, when he was still deeply in love with Vanessa Hudgens and playing a teen heartthrob on The Carrie Diaries. You weren’t even famous at that point, just a mediocre commercial actress trying to get her big break. Once you finally booked your first big role, the crush faded away (only the tiniest amount) but that all came crashing down like an avalanche when you saw Elvis with your best friend.

They probably could’ve posted the entire movie on a porn website and made the same amount of money. And, thus, your crush ensued, full throttle and invading your every thought at the worst moments. Including this one.

Jane kicks the back of your leg, cursing under her breath as you tear your eyes away from him. You’re not new to this scene, you’ve been in major leading roles and you’ve been nominated for Oscars. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that at your core, you are a complete and utter mess. A klutz. A loser with some money in the bank.

So, you take the pictures, with not too many mistakes as you expected, just a few shots of you blinking while smiling. You’re sure they’ll end up on Twitter where your fans will laugh about it while saying how much they love you.

This part always goes by fast. It’s camera flashes, smiles that are strained under the bright lights, talks with interviewers that always go far longer than expected, and then before you know it, you’re being ushered into a tight room with celebrities you had only dreamed of seeing in real life. Jane is glued to your side as you wait for your turn to enter the theater.

Despite the cool temperature of Los Angeles, you’re somehow drenched in sweat. You’ve done this before, you know that. But that doesn’t stop your entire body from going into fight or flight mode, teetering towards flight.

“What’s the hold up?” You hear a female’s voice yell out, and you almost think it’s Jane before you hear her chuckle beside you.

“Speak that truth. I am so sick of these fucking Oscars dimwits wasting my time,” Jane says loudly enough for the girl to hear it, and before you know it, they’re enthralled in a full-blown conversation. If you weren’t trying to fan your armpit sweat, you might’ve joined.

Maybe it’s a good idea to find out where you’re sitting. Probably will need to know that before you enter. You can only assume they’ll sit you next to your last co-star, Timothee Chalamet. What a delight that would be (and that’s not sarcasm, he always smells like cashmere and some type of forest.)

You turn your body slightly, eyeing Jane and the girl she’s talking to. She’s a redhead, also wearing a suit and clearly another publicist that has been in the position for far too long to enjoy it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a male figure standing next to the redhead. Hm. A black suit. Your eyes trail over his body, a soft black lace shirt that is half-unbuttoned peeking over the hem. How nice. You love that look on men.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Your body freezes. Mouth runs dry. Sweat shrivels back up into your body only to start forming at impossible speeds. Heart palpates so quickly you think you might be going into cardiac arrest.

In front of you, is Austin Butler. And he completely, totally, entirely, caught you checking out his entire body, head to toe.

There’s a smirk on his face that is undeniably directed towards you, eyes glimmering with amusement. You can’t even believe that you’re looking directly at him. He can’t be real, he has to be a figment of your imagination.

“Come here often?”

You did not just speak.

No, you didn’t. That couldn’t have been real. That couldn’t have been what you just said. After years of dreaming about this moment, that can’t have been what your brain and tongue agreed on.

He chuckles, a deep one that rumbles through his chest, and says, “I try not to make it a habit. You?”

You entangle your fingers with each other, hoping the sweat that has gathered on them just slides right off. “Me either. Trying to cut down on my presence and all that.”

He raises his eyebrows quizzically, that soft smile that curves upon his lips widening a little, “Well, can’t say the Oscars is the best place to do that.”

“Yes, well…” You trail off. Thoughts empty. Brain just a shallow void with nothing but dirty, filthy fantasies about him floating around. Oh god, get a grip.

And he should end the conversation right there, then back around and not acknowledge the weird girl who clearly hasn’t had enough media training. But, he doesn’t. Instead, he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and says, “I’m Austin. Austin Butler.”

“I know,” You say almost immediately. His facial expression contorts into something unreadable, and your lips flap again to try and salvage the rest of your dignity. “I’m [Y/N].”

You shake his hand, praying to some otherworldly creature above that he won’t feel the sweat on your hands. It’s a little weird, when you touch his hand. Feels like you’re envisioning yourself with him, like you’re some kind of wizard that can tell it won’t be the last time you see him. It feels a little like something out of a rom-com, with the electricity zap and the sounds of your hearts beating erratically.

You both pull your hands away, smiling to the ground. You really, really, really hope he’ll keep talking to you.

“Nervous?” He asks, taking note of the way your thumbs twiddle and the sidestep you keep doing with your heels.

“A little. Kinda. Maybe,” You let out a sigh of relief. “I’m not really the most organized.”

“Hm. Well, I’m sure you’ll be great,” His grin widens just enough to show off his pearly white teeth that glimmer under the remaining sunlight that California has to offer.

“Thanks,” You smile back. “How about you? Nervous?”

“Always,” He responds, almost taken aback by the transparency he’s having with another celebrity. He’s never had a conversation about nerves, never felt validated enough by someone to open up about the fear that comes along with being at this level of fame. “It’s my first Oscars.”

“Right,” You say, “Well, I’ve been to a few, and honestly, I’ll let you in on a secret. Even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself a little when the nominees are announced.”

He lets out a laugh, a real one, one that sounds like all good things in the world and you would be more than happy to capture it in a jar and keep it on your bedside forever. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” He switches gears, shifting his body around a little. “What afterparty are you going to?”

It’s a simple question, one you’ve been asked numerous times by other people in the industry. It usually offers a sense of dominance over who got the better invite. “Er, yes, that would be a question for my lovely publicist, Jane, because I don’t have a rat’s ass idea of where I’m supposed to go.”

He laughs. Again. Part of you is enthralled, part of you is confused as to why he thinks you’re a comedy show. Maybe he thinks you’re a joke. Yes, that makes good sense. “That honestly makes me feel better because I don’t really know where I’m going either,” He admits.

“Are you kidding?” You ask incredulously. “You look like that and you don’t know where you’re going? I think the President of the Academy Awards has a personal invite waiting for you.”

Okay, maybe you shouldn’t have said that. But really, it has to be blamed on the fact that there are a swarm of murderous bees flying around in your stomach that are making you feel woozy.

His cheeks turn a crimson glow, “Like that?”

“Oh, you know…” You trail, slowly laughing to brush off the fact that you basically just admitted your undying love to him. “Just…. That’s a great black shirt. I’m gonna buy one for my brother.”

His lips curve upwards a little more, blue eyes sparkling like little oceans. “Thanks. And, you know, you don’t look bad yourself.”

You blink twice. Did he just say that?

Before you even whip up a flirty comment, or even a funny one that’ll have him doubling over in laughter and proposing to you by tonight, you feel Jane gripping your forearm tightly. “Stop dicking around, [Y/N]. We need to go in.”

“Right, yes, totally,” You smile awkwardly over to Austin, and he returns it. You feel soft and warm and glowy inside, like you might levitate off the floor.

And then you really are levitating off the floor, because your feet miss the step and you’re falling before you even have a chance to stop yourself. Your arm extends to try and delay your inevitable fall, but it doesn’t work and you’re really sprawled out. Immediately, Jane rushes down to try and drag you up, hurriedly asking if you’re okay.

You nod slightly, balancing yourself on your knees. Thankfully, you think the vast majority of people have entered the theater and missed out on your embarrassment of epic proportions.

Well, maybe not everyone.

Suddenly, like a light peeking from beyond the clouds, you see an outstretched hand to your right. It’s tan, a male’s hand for sure. You look up to see who could possibly be nice enough to help you up. Maybe it’s God telling you it’s time to pass away.

It’s Austin. And he has a really worried look on his face that you’re shocked by, but his expression falters once he sees the look on your face. You’re smiling, a real big goofy one, because it’s so ridiculous and he’s so ridiculous and you’re pretty sure one of your heels is broken.

You place your hand in his, and his other hand wraps around your waist to help you up and steady yourself against him. Once you’re finally standing, he grins, leaning into your ear, “Remember, even Leonardo DiCaprio shits himself at the table.”

You don’t even realize his arm is still wrapped around your waist until you notice the absence of it. You giggle lightly, biting your lip. “Of course. And I think I saw Brad Pitt throw up in the bathroom last year.”

“Austin, we gotta go,” His publicist grabs his hand, and you feel a pang of disappointment. You almost think he does too, his blue eyes turning grayish as he looks back at her.

“Right,” He clears his throat. “Well, good luck tonight, [Y/N]. I hope you win.”

“You too,” The smile on your face is probably permanently tattooed on. You feel Jane’s hand on your back, slowly moving you away from him although your feet beg to stay.

“Oh, and [Y/N]?” You turn back around to face him, “Big fan of your work.”

With that, he turns away with his publicist to go and find his seat amongst the crowd. You watch him disappear, an indescribable feeling washing over your entire body. You’re also being whisked away to your table, greeted by familiar faces and friends. But it’s pretty clear that’s not the reason why you’re smiling.

Some part of your brain decides on one thing: this won’t be the last time you see him.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

You decide that you like California. Not a whole lot, but enough to make you sign a contract for a new film. Normally, you believe that Los Angeles and all its surrounding cities are a dreadful structure that encapsulates all the worst features of privileged Southern California lifestyle. But the food is undeniably tasty, and your new apartment is decorated with high ceilings and well-lit rooms, so you’ll make do. You’ll be filming in sunny Calabasas, where the houses are painted a perfect shade of white, where time stills a little and every cloud is just the right amount of fluffy.

The Oscar’s had came and went, and you won, to no one’s surprise but your own. With that accomplishment came offers. People really, truly wanted to work with you, and although it baffled you, Jane was having the time of her life coordinating auditions and interviews.

Everything was truly perfect.

You flip through the pages of your fresh script, your manicured nails turning through the warm pages, the black ink bleeding onto the sheets. Jane sits across from you, feverishly scribbling something, negotiating your pay for your new film. She’ll deliver. In the end, she always does.

She hangs up her call, sighing from relief. You’re about to ask her how it went, if you got the price you wanted, before her phone blares again with that god awful ringtone she refuses to change. She answers it, a cheerful tone in her voice, “Kate? So good to hear from you! What’s going on?”

You tune out of her conversation, focusing your eyes back on the mass of paper in front of you. A new story to be told. A new character to embody. A new chapter of your life. It’s all very emotional and sappy and you almost want to cry tears of happiness, but you’ll save that for later, once you get home and crack open a bottle of wine.

You hear Jane place her phone down, and your eyes flicker back up to her. There’s an expression on her face that’s unreadable, and you’re unsure of how to process it. Oh, no. If you didn’t get the price you wanted, that would suck. Or, maybe you did and she’s just unsure on how to process emotion. You always thought she was a robot.

“I just had the weirdest phone call,” She finally speaks, scratching her forehead quizzically.

“What’s up?” You ask mindlessly, certain she’s going to tell you something personal like her cousin getting married to a farmer.

“That was Austin Butler’s publicist. She said he’s been asking about you since the Oscars.”

There’s no fucking way. She’s pranking you. Any second now, Ashton Kutcher is going to pop out behind the doorframe and say “You’ve been Punk’d!” and then maybe he’ll also bring out Austin to further your embarrassment.

“Excuse me?” You blink.

“Yeah,” She seems just as baffled as you are. “She said he’s been trying to find a way to get in contact with you, but turns out, you guys don’t have a lot of mutual friends.”

Well, that makes sense.

She continues on, “Anyway, she gave me his number and then said he wants to ask you on a date. So, do with that what you will.”

She unlocks her phone, slides it across the table to you, and you see a phone number typed into her notes. Your hand trembles as you pick up the iPhone, copying the number into your own contacts. You feel woozy, just like you did on that red carpet, just like you did the moment you locked eyes with him.

“Right, well,” You clear your throat. “I’ll just step outside and call him real quick.”

She nods, raising one eyebrow. There’s a small grin that appears on her lips, a knowing one, and you slide out the door into the hallway.

You don’t know what comes over you, or what demon compels you, but you click the number. You hear the ring. There’s a pause. Your heart drops as you think that he might not answer.

And then you hear him. His voice.

“Hello?”

“Uh, h-hi. Hi. This is, um, [Y/N]. Your publicist gave me your number.”

It almost sounds ridiculous.

“[Y/N]. You know, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you but turns out you’re not an easy person to reach,” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, you know me and my presence. All time low,” You say sarcastically, and he chuckles.

“Right. Well, congratulations on your win. Very well-deserved,” His voice is deeper than you remember. There’s a slight desire that pools between your legs for a moment before you snap yourself back into reality.

“You too. Some would call it the performance of the year,” And you can’t even believe it’s happening. You’re really flirting with him.

“Thank you,” He says so softly, so charming. He’s always grateful and humble, and it makes you even more attracted to him. If that’s even possible at this point. “So, do you think there’s a chance you would allow me to take you out to dinner? Somewhere lowkey, you know, for your presence and all?”

The question is so unbelievable that you can’t even take it in. You make a few sounds, splutter over your words and trip over them like you did your own two feet at the Oscars. Your heartbeat travels up to your eardrum, pounding with every ounce of blood that travels through you. “U-uh, umm… well, you know, let me go ahead and check my schedule.” There’s a pause. You cover the reciever and scream a silent yell into the void, jumping a few feet high.

Clearing your throat, you say, “Hm. Seems like I’m free tomorrow.”

“You can’t do tonight?”

The question takes you aback. Surely, he can’t be asking that because he wants to see you. “Oh, why? Are you leaving California tomorrow?”

“Not at all,” You hear him shuffle. “I just really want to take you out.”

“Right, yes, of course.” You let his question hang in the air. You know your answer, but you like letting him think there’s a possibility you might reject him.

“I am free tonight.”

“Great,” His voice is upbeat, a newfound excitement peeking through. “Well, text me your address. I’ll send a car to pick you up.”

“Yup, totally. Super duper cool. Looking really forward to it,” You babble on, pacing the hallway you’ve trapped yourself in.

He lets out a low laugh, “Me too. I’ll see you tonight. Bye, [Y/N].”

You say your goodbyes, leaning against the wall for stability before you collapse into a puddle. Later, a janitor might come to find your lifeless body glued to the wall. Cause of death? Man built like a Greek god asks woman on date.

But, everything is fine. You’ll somehow make it.

There’s a ridiculous feeling in your heart, a warmth that spreads to your toes and fingers. Now, everything is perfect.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[hooked-on-elvis]

I'm shocked (not really, but it's shocking to hear this anyway) to learn that at some point in life Priscilla sued Marty Lacker for a money Elvis gave him. She dropped the lawsuit when Marty counterclaimed it. Marty says "She messed with the wrong guy, but she was trying to use me as a test case against the other guys. She is a lovely person."

(1) February 25-26, 1965: Elvis signing autographs for fans in Nashville while he was in town for the recording session for the "Harum Scarum" movie soundtrack. Marty Lacker is seen by Elvis' side.

YOUTUBE - INTERVIEW WITH MARTY LACKER BY JOE KREIN PART 3 (out of 4) (go to 30:00 to listen his story about the lawsuit by Priscilla)

Now, this is just my personal comments on this but for all I've learned about Marty Lacker so far I believe he had the best interests at heart concerning Elvis. He helped EP with his music career A LOT. The way he puts it, it seems he worried with Elvis' name in the business because: 1. Marty knew EP had so much to offer (as everybody else knew), so much talent to go to waste on unworthy movies and its soundtracks and on general commercially weak songs, and 2. I bet it wasn't funny to see people mocking his friend for the kind of music and movies Elvis was making. Marty, as well as some other Memphis Mafia guys, worried about Elvis' personal satisfaction and well-being for multiple reasons... maybe not all of them being selfless but I still believe they did care about Elvis as a friend and human being even if they had hidden interests and whatever was the nature of them.

Now, all of those guys (all the people) around EP were seeing him killing himself little by little while trying to numb the disturbing thoughts in his mind and the sorrow in his soul... they were witnessing all of the sad incidents happening over the years where Elvis would end up hurting himself or almost dead. Marty was one of the few people that would go against Colonel Parker when he convinced Elvis to try something new for his career, something that would end up giving Elvis a great refreshing moment in his life, something he was hoping for deep down but somehow couldn't imagine how to make it happen himself and the ones who were in the place to advice him were too busy with their own personal agendas to care about the King's aspirations for his career.

Marty was the one to manage getting Elvis into the American Sound studio (later at the Stax too), and Marty was also the one to recommend the Sweet Inspirations to work on Elvis' concerts. Just by that alone, ALONE, could you really think Marty deserved a lawsuit for a money Priscilla didn't even need? I mean, where is the gratitude to some of the close friends of the man she allegedly says she loved?

As he said in the same interview, Marty was no saint… he wasn't a leech either. There was a time when Elvis lent him some money and Marty paid him back some time later, so Elvis was deeply touched by it because normally no one would pay him back ever! That shows something, right?

Maybe I don't know enough yet because I'm relatively a new born in the Elvis fandom, and I absolutely don't agree with every statement I've listened/read coming from Marty but in general I see him as one of the good guys from the Memphis Mafia bunch. I mean, every story has two sides. Maybe Priscilla sued Marty after being counselled to do so by some lawyer she had, like she was when she decided take Elvis to the court again in 1973, asking for more money after the divorce settlement had been set in 1972 - and by this I mean she could've been convinced to sue Marty instead of having the idea herself, which at least would make things a little less awful. But any reason she had to do that, I mean... why? There's things in life we just don't do. Even if she didn't personally liked the guy (and we know from Elvis' friends the ones she really liked were Joe Esposito and Jerry Schilling), she had to admit Marty was a great contributor to the Elvis Presley estate from which she benefits until today. I think for all Marty did for Elvis' career it's reasonable to think that any money he could've borrowed from EP would have already made its way back into the Presley's bank account in other ways. Maybe a little bit of gratitude and respect to him wouldn't hurt. I mean, I'm not totally against Priscilla... in some ways I can understand her, I really can, but not on this. Not when it comes to her greediness.

I just wonder what would Elvis think.

(2) The Presley's wedding day, February 1, 1967. Marty with Elvis and Priscilla.

FURTHER INFO: On July 17 1973, "in the papers presented to the court Priscilla's new attorney seeks to set aside the original divorce settlement." - Excerpt from 'Elvis Day by Day' by Peter Guralnick and Ernst Jorgensen. Now in addition to what has been agreed on the August 1972 divorce settlement, from the 1973 new settlement Priscilla would also receive, among other things, Spousal support, additional $625,000 (in cash) to the original $100.000 agreed and 5% of Elvis' royalties.

[meangirls-imagines]

Welcome to the Poly!Plasticsverse!

collab with: @yungpoetfics (my fav bubs in the world)

Regina George

@queenbgina/@callmereginald (she/her)

North Shore's Queen Bee

Soft for her girlfriends

The mom of the group

Basically a sugar mommy for her girls

Lifehack Geek

TikTok hater

Has rational fear of werewolves

Will fight a bitch

Victoria's Secret girly

Female rapper stan (Doja, Cardi, Megan, etc.)

Gryffindor

Lesbian

Gretchen Wieners

@thegretchenw/@greatgretsby (she/her/it (only if ur special))

The second mom of the group

Softest human

Loves playing with her girlfriends hair

#1 Twilight hater

Has a letterboxd account just to leave bad reviews

The level headed one usually, but will snap when she needs

Cuddly as fuck

Loves Fleur du Mal lingerie

Stubborn as Fuck

Wine drinker/expert

Loves vintage music (Elvis, Elton John, etc.)

Hufflepuff

Bisexual

Karen Shetty

@karebearz/@karensheetty (any pronouns)

Ambidextrous™️

Loves Spongebob

Plant Parent

Knows Britney Spears and Lady Gaga choreo

Kpop girly (Blackpink, BTS, etc.)

Lettering expert

Has Funko Pop collection

Squishmallow lover

Ravenclaw

Pansexual

Cady Heron

@cady_heron/@defnotcaddy (she/her)

The third mom of the group

Whispers when angry

Carries bandaids at all times

Always has snacks

Lactose Intolerant (but LOVES cheese)

Cries at Rom-Coms

LOVES hugs

Cannot handle spicy food

Sleeps with a teddy bear

Happy to be here

Friends with everyone's parents

Token vanilla of the group

Has diary (with a heart shaped lock)

Bisexual

Aaron Samuels

@aaronsammy/@atomicaaron (he/him) or (ho/mie)

1/3 of Terror Trio

Y/N's best friend

North Shore's resident Himbo

Will do anything if someone says "I dare you"

Impulsive buyer

Has one brain cell (shares it with Y/N)

Overuses 💪 emoji

Usually confused

1/2 Golden Retriever duo

Can skateboard

Uses Axe body spray

Co-founder of Stuntmares

Dreams of grabbing a teddy in a claw machine (bucket list item)

Ass man

Owns too many grey sweatpants

Kisses his homies (homiesexual)

Has never watched Harry Potter

Watches lifestyle coaches on YT

Can play the ukulele (really badly)

Loves Eminem and Harry Styles (would fuck Harry Styles)

Writes Larry Stylinson fanfics

Kissed Y/N once (regretted immediately)

Bisexual

Damian Hubbard

@hubbarddamian/@damianishubby (he/him/they)

Learned how to sew from Janis

Does drag and has a YT channel (Anita Dick)

Huge Adore Delano stan

Will fight anyone who hurts Janis

Doesn't like Rupaul as a person, but is a religious Drag Race fan

#1 Poly!Plastics fan

Has an 8 step skincare routine

Cameraman for Stuntmares

Earlybird

Lies about having curfew to go to sleep early

Ravenclaw

(Lowkey wishes he was a Slytherin bc it's the "cuntiest house"

Him and Karen watch The Bachelor

Fav movie is Dirty Dancing (did the lift with Janis)

Learned how to twerk from Y/N

Gay

Janis Imi'Ike

@janiisimiike/@imiikenough (she/they)

Secret Barbie girly(live action and animated movies)

Will go straight for Ryan Gosling

Feral chihuahua of the group

Hozier stan

HATES THE KARDASHIANS

Pain in Regina's ass

Anger Issues™️

Secretly loves Olivia Rodrigo

Mentally Ill friend

Emotional Drunk

Karaoke Queen

Tits girly

Leather Jacket lesbian

Getting piercings > therapy

Has a suit collection

Thrifter

Loves her friends

Dog person (secretly)

Quotes niche memes

Kinky af

Middle Child

Lesbian

Y/N Y/L/N (FC: Chrissy Costanza)

@thisbeyn/@reginaslefttit (she/he/they/it)

2/3 Terror Trio

2/2 Golden Retriever duo

Has matching fried egg tattoo with Aaron.

Co-Founder of Stuntmares

"Hi, I'm Y/N and welcome to Stuntmares" *jumps off roof into pool*

Cuts her own hair

Blooper Reel Queen

North Shore's resident stoner

AUDHD (autistic + ADHD)

Playlists range from Beethoven to ashnikko

"IT'S NOT A PHASE. IT'S A LIFESTYLE."

Demisexual

Plays electric guitar

Has slight speech impediment

Gremlin of the group

D&D Dungeon Master

ALWAYS falls asleep during movie night

Power Nap Addict™️

Insomniac

Monster Energy Drink Enthusiast (collects the cans)

Oddly good at Origami

Tweets everything she thinks

Has been banned from Fortnite and Roblox

Married to Gretchen on The Sims (regina and karen were sad)

Anger issues

✨Spicy✨ Latina (do not fuck with her people)

Matching rings with her gfs

Def had one night stand with Cady

Shane Oman

@shaneomann/@omantastic (he/him) or (dumb/hoe)

Loves Old School Rap (Biggie, Tupac, Snoop Dogg, etc.)

Hates Y/N at first but comes to love her like a sister.

Only person who can outsmoke Y/N.

Has a dropped truck with red LED lights under it.

Blasts music walking down the halls.

Always has the zoomies.

Orange cat friend.

Has elevator music playing in his head 24/7.

Challenged Damian to a dance off. (He lost. But he had girls simping over him)

Posts thirst traps on TikTok. (Regina's mom is his #1 follower)

Has a frying pan tattooed to match Aaron and Y/N.

Always on Stuntmares trying to create new world records.

Or eating a bunch of weird combos.

"Oman! Not again!" *proceeds to eat a marshmallow and spam sandwich*

Ralph Lauren man

Whenever the polycule argues, he's a "fuck this shit, I'm out" person.

Professional party crasher

Dine and Dash expert

Has nipple piercings (Aaron and Y/N dared him to get them)

Curses like a fucking sailor (Half of his lines on Stuntmares are just censor beeps)

Talks way too fast.

Knows Italian and Spanish (Him and Y/N talk shit in Spanish)

His ringtone for Aaron and Y/N is the remix of the Windows error sound

Loves t-shirts with offensive prints (Regina tries to make him dress normally)

Has gc with Aaron and Y/N called "Hoemies"

Would fuck Aaron

TICKLISH

Major gossip (Him and Gretchen meet once a week to talk shit)

[m1ssunderstanding]

Notes on Nowhere Boy

Finally posting the long version of the close-watch I did for @sleeper9's Fete zine. The bad thing about me is I hate spending money and love pirating shitty quality versions of movies. The good thing about the Beatles fandom is we're used to dealing with grainy pics. Anyways, here goes!

The opening ten seconds really do set the tone for the film, and here's why. It's the opening of A Hard Day’s Night where the boys are running from a hoard of screaming fans and George biffs it. John sees him go down, laughs, and keeps running. Only here, it's just John. George’s fall has been erased, making John into a cocky, if slightly insane, little lone hero. 

Mimi: do I ignore you? No. So please don't ignore me. Me: ummm, yeah you do ignore him, Mimi. Enough to leave deep psychological scars. But it's fine. Moving on.

Ugh, Uncle George is so sweet! I wonder how much of John's sweetness he learned from him. I wish we knew more about him.

Actually that was Jim that set up a cord running into Paul's room from the radio downstairs. But it fits Uncle George's character, so it works. 

Why did they make Mendips look a lot more working class than it actually was? No fancy iron fence, no pretty hexagonal outcropping, no stained glass veranda? 

Aaron Taylor Johnson is nailing it though. The laugh sounds very John, and this posture? Perfect. 

Okay but if that doesn't heartbreakingly encapsulate John and Mimi I don't know what does. Uncle George has just died. John goes to Mimi, wraps her from behind in a tight embrace and lets out a sob. Her response is to push him away. “Please, let's not be silly. If you want to do that, go to your room.” Alright, it's making me feel things, it's winning me over. 

John making his cousin Stan go and ask Mimi where Julia is is also extremely accurate. Always had someone to do the dirty work for them, all of them. 

Mimi's concern as John's going to visit his mother in the “bad” part of town is very good to have in too. “And you will be careful, hmm? Careful who you talk to.” And John's response, “it's only Blackpool, Mimi.” It's true. It could've been Speke, or the Dingle. Which Quarryman did I read saying Mimi didn't like John even leaving Woolton?

John's hurt little face when he finds out his mum, all this time, has been less than a bus ride away is a very clever way to show us his painful confusion about the whole situation. 

Trying to remind myself that this is a very anti-Julia pro-Mimi movie that will try to make me think she's crazy. But it sure is doing a hell of a good job. She hasn't seen him in years and suddenly she's hand feeding him desserts, kissing him every chance she's got, flirting all over the place. “Do you know what it means? Rock and Roll? Sex.” “Don't tell Mimi, alright? This is our little secret. Promise me.” And to a poor affection-starved boy, that's going to feel good. That's going to put thoughts in his head like “this is how it should be”. I mean I know she was wild and fun and sexy and irresponsible. And I know John did have weird thoughts about her. But I hope she wasn't actually this crazy. 

But the weird Freudian thing aside, he's got to be so terribly confused hearing the woman who effectively abandoned him declaring her love for him. Between Mimi and Julia, John would've had such a messed up idea of what that word meant. 

The Daily Howl, my absolute beloved!!

Nowhere Boy John watching Elvis: damn I've gotta get the girls screaming for me like that! Actual John watching Elvis: he's so beautiful! He's perfect! I'm in love!

Also I do not think sixteen year old John was that good at fingering. Just saying. 

This part always drops my heart cold into my stomach. Poor John. Poor poor baby. You can hear his little boy voice calling, “mum? It's me.” And she mutters, very annoyed, “go away.” Again. I have to remind myself that this is a purposely negative portrait of Julia. But then. It is true that she was a mostly absent and wholly undependable figure in John's life. 

Sometimes dialogue is absolutely perfect. Like this – “Aw, why couldn't God make me Elvis Presley?” “Cause he was saving you for John Lennon.” “Aw I'll get you back for that, God!” And this – “you haven't told Mimi, have you?” “No point going through her bullocks if I don't have to.” “Why? She has to go through yours.” “Yeah well I never asked her to, did I?”

Ugh this whole movie just hurts so bad! How he looks to Julia as Mimi is ordering him out of her house, just begging her to claim him this time. And she doesn't until he makes a stand for himself. And then, later. “How long can I stay?” Is met with nothing. Not even a fake “long as you want, love.” It really plays into the title of the film. This boy's got nowhere to call home. And then, the final straw. Look at his face as he hears Julia agree that he does in fact need to go back to Mimi's. If I did that kind of thing, I'd actually be crying right now. Fuck, why was I knit-picking, this movie is working so well. 

 As he's announcing he's leaving Julia's, John wants her to tell him to stay. To at least pretend it's not what she wants. And she doesn't even look at him. Imagine if they did something like this in the John biopic mirrored with a scene with Paul in the breakup?

He's just so adorable looking at that guitar like he can't believe it's real.

John's gathered the og Quarrymen in the bathroom and Pete goes “I take it we're not here for a communal crap.” Idk Pete, wouldn't put it past him. It's not far off what you all do already.

It's making the Quarrymen look kinda cool here, and I really want them all to be shit except John, just because that's what I get from Paul's description. Not that he's biased or anything. He could've been watching John play with Elton John and David Bowie and he'd still say everyone faded into the background. 

Also Mimi would Not have been there. Not on her life. 

Okay now we're sort of seeing them from Paul's perspective. Bunch of losers surrounding this inimitable shining star. 

Accurate that the first thing John says to Paul is about jerking off. 

The dynamic in general is just so well-done in this first scene. John instantly testing Paul. How much shit will he put up with? And Paul instantly having none of it, showing off, and winning John over. 

All the other Quarrymen just know it's time to dust off the ole resume. 

But! Paul's fete “audition” is so toned down for this film. Although of course, accounts vary. He did 20 flight rock, yeah. But he also did it on someone's borrowed right hand guitar turned upside down. And he did little Richard and played the piano, and tuned John's guitar for him. In one telling of it, John says he asked him to be in the group right there on the spot. So. Yeah. 

But either way, watching John watch Paul is just gorgeously gay. It's giving extreme “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” It's actually illegal not to queerbate using Lennon/McCartney and I'm glad all moviemakers seem to understand the law.

Cut to “John, your little friend's here!” Can you imagine if they'd showed the “chalk and cheese” whirling dervish moment? Or Mimi making Paul use the back door? Those might change some thoughts and feelings in this movie. 

And then we get the reciprocated “Oooooh, he likes hiiiiiim!” Moment as Paul's too busy checking out John’s buddy Holly Look to remember where he is, let alone what cord they're on. And it's so sweet because Paul's the first person who gives John the idea that his real self is actually cooler than his tough-guy act. 

The little matching feet tapping?? Eee it's so cute! 

But why miss the opportunity for them to sing in harmony here?

Sometimes the dialogue is extremely inaccurate. “So mummy’s cool about baby Paul wanting to be Elvis?” “Oh she would've loved it.” Like hell she would've. She would've been as disapproving as Mimi. Then again, maybe it is accurate for Paul to be lying about that.

“Well she – she sort of – died. You know, em. If we're gonna do this we should write our own stuff.” Okay yep there he is. That's Paul. 

Also love how John gets his first calluses after Paul the bossy taskmaster comes into his life. (You know. And the reason to push himself and a person who cares enough to take the time to show him things and it makes John all dreamy staring at the stars that night etc) Anyway. It's perfect. 

And the first gig we see after Paul joins is in a venue on a real stage with a much bigger audience, and the matching suits of course. 

Mimi selling John's guitar because of a bad report card is like the lighter, kinder translation of what happened in reality when she had his dog put down while he was staying at Julia's. 

So they kinda make up for not letting Paul sing etc by having him nail the guitar instead of screw up at this gig like he did irl. 

And he's stealing Julia's attention, which is clearly Not okay with John. Reminds me of that quote of Paul's about how they were both in love with John's mum. 

George is appropriately infantile. Good. Cutie. 

The Quarrymen playing “That's Alright, Mama” as John's making up with Julia since she bought his guitar back for him. Okay. Very clever. 

Paul does Not like John disrespecting his mother after the show for obvious reasons. (“I said something wrong now I long for yesterday.”) But clearly he doesn't have the full picture here. I wonder at what point irl Paul got a full run-down from John on his messed-up family life. Or did he just have to pull it together piece by piece over the years?

And of course he jumps to light Julia's cigarette. Boy was patting his pocket for a lighter like it was the race of his life. Mister steal your mum.

Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, Paul McCartney’s number two complaint about this movie: John was Not taller than him. How dare they? Slander.  

That's one hell of a jacket.

At the party, John's of course pissed to find Paul serenading Julia in the kitchen. But Paul just wants a mommy so bad, John. Why can't you just let him have yours since you clearly don't want her? Right, because you really, really do. More than anyone can understand. But when you showed her that – how bad you wanted her to be your mum, not just a friend – she hurt you. Forced you to go through your abandonment all over again. So now you can't show that anymore. 

The washboard over Pete's head is almost exactly accurate, isn't it? John does not handle people leaving him well. 

Ugh his little voice cracking on the word “mum.” John Lennon is a poor poor baby and I will die on that hill.

I wonder how John did find out about Victoria and the real story of why he was with Mimi. No matter how, though, that's certainly a lot of mess for a young man to be carrying around with him all the time in his head. 

“When your father came back from the merchant Navy, he wanted to try and save the marriage, but your mother would have none of it.” I do feel like we're going with Alf’s version of events here, the one he sold John in order to get into his good graces after he was famous. Which is, again, not fair to Julia. I wonder how little Julia feels about this movie. 

In fact, I think this part –  “who do you wanna be with, John? Do you wanna be with me or do you wanna be with your mum?” – has been categorically disproven. But it certainly does make for some high drama. And John himself did believe his father's story, so there has to be at least some emotional truth there. 

Nowhere Boy John: There's no point in hating someone you love. I mean really love. IRL John: How do you sleep, you cunt?!

There he is. Art School John. Though he fell in love with every iteration of John, I think this one never left his head because he was one of the earliest Johns, and he was a John Paul had to fight for, you know, with all the Stu business and dead mother anger.

He really does an excellent job of playing John, though, when he's written right. “Woman took her kit off and we painted her breasts. Not actually physically. I got my eye on you two.” Ridiculous. Charming. Off- putting. Adorable. 

Ignoring the fact that I prefer to think of “Hello, Little Girl” as being about Paul (“you never seem to see me standing there”) and they're making it about Julia, this is a lovely scene. With John somewhat unsure still of his songwriting abilities and Paul looking up at him from the floor full of admiration. 

Oh he's gonna murder someone. To be fair, I think playing Julia's banjo at her funeral is exactly the type of insensitive thing Paul would do, because he just thinks and feels in music and it makes Sense to him even though of course it's going to piss John off. 

Hilarious, and probably accurate tbh, that Paul's pissed John off so he gives Pete a bloody nose.

But here we go, the number one complaint about this movie from Paul, which I think is actually valid. John never hit him and that was important to both of them and it's disrespectful to portray it and play into the myth of their rocky, angry relationship. 

But maybe in 2009 that's what it took for them to be able to show John Lennon and Paul McCartney in a genuine, loving embrace, crying into each other's necks about mothers. It has to be preceded by John punching Paul in the mouth. 

If I was John's writing partner, my biggest beef with this movie would actually be the scene where they're recording ISOATD and making it look like John wrote it and played the guitar solo. But Paul's never even mentioned it. Which I guess really shows he cares far more about the legacy of his relationship with John than his career legacy. Which. If you mean more to Paul McCartney than his fucking music? Well then you must be just about important enough to have your own movie. 

This is really the Vote for Mimi Smith campaign, isn't it? Putting across the screen the fact that John called Mimi every week until he died as “Mother” plays in the background is brutal. Ouch. But it's true. “It's Mimi time.”

[ravers8fantasy]

🌸Piston hondo Headcanons🚄

Hooray yipee!! we have made it to major league, everyone say helloo hondaaa- wait, I mean hondo.

I definitely think he has the best car out of the boxers idk theres smth about him

Is goated at those arcade motorbike racing machines and rhythm games

He hates claw machines, he always loses on them but somehow ends up playing them over and over and over- oh there goes his money

Outside the ring he is quite charitable with all the money he has earned from boxing (inspired from that one old nintendo comic where he was revealed to be a pretty good guy)

Likes to say he is respectable in the ring.... But his ass is competitive so sometimes he slips up

Its a running joke that his fans either call him 'sonic' after the blue hedgehog or 'honda' after the car brand

Because of this, most of his gifts from fans are sonic keychains which he lovingly attaches to every.single.bag. He owns (which is alot)

Got dragged to a karaoke one time with the others and ended up doing a very drunk and very bad rendition of baby one more time by Britany spears

I think his alchohol tolerance is abysmal, after one or two drink's the 'asian flush' kicks in and if you dont get him back home in time he WILL fall asleep

Has a collection of little things he has won from different gachapon, this started when he was around 10

He has always been pretty fast even as a kid, he did and still does run into stuff sometimes (like the locker situation I mentioned in my major league locker room hcs😈)

Very superstitious, firmly believes ghosts are real and will do anything to prove it (has dragged the others to do those abandoned house ghost hunting things)

I think he would be musically gifted, play's drums and bass as a hobby

He has a great appetite, is noted for his ability to make convayor belt sushi places run out of sushi temporarily (inspo from his rematch title defense cutscenes)

He ended up getting banned from one for eating so much sushi to the point the chefs were getting worried for his digestion

Likes doing adventurous stuff: rock climbing, hiking, mountain biking, archery etc

LOVES action films, especially the ones with sports or fighting involved ( he is also a fan for tragic romance but, no one knows that because he's too shy to admit lawl)

Started sleep talking one time whilst having a dream he was sailor moon and woke himself up by shouting "moon prism power, make up!"

Because of his accent he cannot pronounce the letter 'r' and it really annoys him sometimes he just refuses to talk because of it

Has secretly tried on Don's toupee when he wasnt looking, he thought he looked like Elvis presley and started giggling to himself

His parents own a family run resturant, Hondo in highschool worked there and used the money he got to help pay his boxing training

Very humble dude and very chill outside the ring and apart from his severe competitiveness, he is considered one of the nicest out of the boxer roster

Okay thats all hope you enjoyed also if I make any mistakes sorry😭😭

[prsleysbabe]

Sleepy Angel

Summary: You as the reader are getting very tired while Elvis is with his friends and he notices.

Warnings: Absolutely none, this is complete fluff (This is my first time writing fan fiction so please bear with me)

When you are dating THE Elvis Presley, you have to be prepared for a very messed up sleep schedule. That man will stay up until early mornings and will sleep In till afternoon, it's a nightmare.

That being said, it is currently 1am and Elvis and his friends have been sitting in the living room for a good few hours now. While Elvis has been sitting in his chair, you have been laying on the couch struggling to keep you eyes open. You would go to bed but you hate going to bed without Elvis, you get lonesome when he isn't with ya. So instead, you shall continue to sit here and struggle until Elvis is ready to go to bed.

Out of the corner of Elvis' eye, he sees your head flopping to the side constantly as you make a cute attempt to keep your eyes open. Elvis can't help but chuckle to himself as he watches you.

As Elvis continues to observe you, he decides to stand up and walk over to you. Your body is hunched up with your knees tucked into your chest while you lay sideways.

Elvis gently sits down next to you and leans down to you.

"Ya tired, honey?" He asks you in his softest tone, the words rolling off his tongue like silk. He brings his hand up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Your tiredness has gone past the point of being able to talk, so instead you answer him by nodding your head slightly.

Elvis continues to give you soft and gentle touches as he says, "my poor baby. Why don't ya go on up to bed, hm?".

You turn your head slightly to meet his eyes and say, "ion wanna go without you, I wanna stay with you".

Elvis can't help but get little flutters in his chest as you look at him with your doe eyes and talk to him with your mellow, soft voice that he just adores.

"C'mere, baby" he instructs you as he stands up from the couch band holds his arms out.

You slowly sit up and stand up from your position, only to have Elvis pick you up and have you wrap your legs and arms around him.

He turns his head to look at his friends and says, "Party's over gentlemen" and with that he leaves the living room with you in his arms and he carries you up to the bedroom and lays you gently on the bed.

After placing you down, you ask, "Are you getting into bed too?"

He smiles down at you and answers you by saying, "yes, honey, I'll be with you in a minute". He walks into the bathroom after that to get into his pyjamas and do whatever he needs to do before bed. \

After a few minutes, Elvis emerges from the bathroom to see you still wide awake, waiting for him.

"Baby, you coulda gone to sleep while I was in there" he says to you as he slides into the bed next to you.

As soon as he's in, you slide your way over and snuggle Into him and wrap yourself around him as though he was a big teddy bear.

"I was waitin" you say softly as you close your eyes.

"Waiting for what, honey?" he asks as he looks down at you

"you" is all you say before you feel sleep takeover.

[sissylittlefeather]

We Can Make the Morning

(or Angel Take 7)

A one-shot

A/N: I've had this idea for a while and just decided to go ahead and write it the other day while I was watching Elvis On Tour. I hope y'all enjoy this 1972 Elvis x fem!reader one-shot!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, handjob, ejaculation, oral sex (f receiving), possible concussion

Word count: ~3.7k

Greensboro, North Carolina. You've lived here your whole life. And you've been an Elvis fan since you heard his first record at the tender age of fifteen. Now you're in your early thirties and you finally find yourself at one of his shows. You've never managed to go to one before and something about this feels like destiny. Still, the best you could afford is a seat at the front of the balcony, but you're next to where he'll walk into and out of the arena. If you push, you might be able to get a pretty good glimpse of him, and that's all you've ever really wanted. You dream of more, but you know better than to think he's going to notice you or anything.

April 14th, 1972 is show day, finally. You get dressed and try to ignore your nerves as you fix your hair and swipe on your makeup. You opt for your favorite bell bottoms and a cropped peasant blouse. It's not the dressiest outfit you own, but it flatters you and shows off all your best assets. Not that it matters much. He'll never see you.

At the arena, you make your way to your seat and try to survey whether you'll be able to get to a place where you can really see him up close. Eventually the lights go down and the music starts up. You head over to the railing, but there's a hundred girls between you and the tunnel. There's no way you can fight through them this time. You'll have to try again at the end of the concert. You head back to your seat with a new determination.

The show is incredible.

He's wearing a dark blue jumpsuit with a belt that has an owl on it, as he points out during one of the songs. Even as far away as you are, you can tell he looks amazing. His voice is on point and his performance is unmatched. You sit in silence with your lips parted slightly and your eyes wide. It's like he's made of stardust. And you're not going to let him pass by without seeing him up close.

He ends the show with Can't Help Falling In Love and then bows with his arms held out holding the silver cape. You know he's going to move fast through the tunnel, so you run to the railing and push your way through all the women gathered there. It's hot and hard to breathe and your heart is pounding. You're pressed up against the railing where it hits you just below the waist. Your position on your platform boots is precarious but you lean over anyway, just in case he reaches up. You feel yourself getting lightheaded from the excitement, but you're not going to miss this for anything, no matter how you feel. Just then, you see him headed for the tunnel. Your ears start ringing and the edges of your vision go dark. You can't believe it's really him. As the blackness envelops you, someone behind you pushes on your back and you feel yourself falling...

******

On stage, Elvis knows he's putting on a hell of a show. The energy from the crowd is electric and the camera crew seems excited by the footage they're collecting. In truth, he's ready to be done with this damn movie. Ready to be done with this damn tour. He enjoys the stage portion but everything in between is grueling. And honestly, the loneliness has been setting in pretty hard for him, especially in the middle of the night. Sometimes he picks up a girl at a show, but most of his encounters are empty. And even if he does find someone he likes, the conversation is lacking or she's so starstruck she can't do much more than giggle or try way too hard to impress him in bed. He longs for a real connection.

On stage, though, he lives his dream every night. This show in North Carolina is particularly satisfying for some reason and he comes off the stage with a smile on his face. He makes his way quickly to the car, heading for the tunnel lined with screaming fans. Looking up briefly, something strange captures his eye.

He reacts quickly without thinking, throwing his arms out to catch you just before you hit the ground. Somehow, you fall perfectly into his grasp and he holds you like a baby. He's stopped running, so his entourage encircles him to urge him forward.

"You can't stop here, man!"

"Put her down; let's go!" He looks down at you in his arms and realizes you're out cold.

"I can't! She's out, guys!"

"You're gonna have to drop her!" He shakes his head vigorously.

"No. I'm bringin' her with me." The guys make eye contact across him. They know when he's like this there's no arguing with him. He starts moving forward again with you in his arms.

At the car, the guys try again to get him to drop you with a security guard, but he refuses.

"It's my fault she's like this! I'm not leavin' her!" He gets into the backseat of his car, holding you on his lap. The other guys roll their eyes and squeeze in with him. It was a tight fit even before you were there, so now it's almost impossible for them to smash into the car. He wraps his arms around you tighter and holds you to him while the guys pile in. Sweat from the show slides down his face and he looks at you in his arms. The gentle lines of your features are intriguing and he wonders what your name is. For a moment, he forgets where he is and does something a little strange. He pulls your face to his and presses his lips to your forehead. That's when your eyelids flutter and you stir.

******

You sit up quickly and look around, trying to figure out where you are. You're in a car of some kind with a bunch of men you don't recognize. You try desperately to remember how you got here.

"Hey, honey. Are you alright?" When you hear his voice, you whip your head around.

"Oh." You answer breathlessly. "It's you."

He chuckles softly and his smile almost causes you to pass out again.

"It's me. I'm sorry, honey, I just didn't want to leave you there in that state."

"State?"

"Do you remember falling over the wall?" You cover your face in embarrassment.

"Oh my god..." He laughs softly again.

"Honey, it's okay. It happens."

"This has happened before?!"

"Well, not exactly..." One of the guys cuts in and you realize you're sitting on Elvis's lap with his arms around you. You fight to keep your composure.

"We're here, boss." The door opens and the guys climb out of the car until it's just you and Elvis.

"I'd like you to stay, so I can keep an eye on you. Is that okay?"

"I'm not sure it's necessary..."

"I say it is. Come on." You're not going to argue with him. He pats your bottom and you climb out of the car, followed closely by him.

On the sidewalk, you stumble a little, still woozy from passing out. He wraps his arm around your waist and steadies you.

"Do I need to carry you, honey?" The concern on his face is so endearing you almost melt into the ground.

"N-no, I think I'm okay."

"Alright. I'm gonna keep a hold of ya, though." You nod and he smiles genially. Then, the two of you make your way into the hotel surrounded by his bodyguards. At the elevator, he tries to dismiss them, and they refuse to leave him alone, but when he speaks sternly and insists that he'd like to be left alone, they listen and watch as he gets on the elevator with just you. Once the doors slide shut, he turns to you and puts both hands on your hips.

"What's your name, honey?"

"Oh! I'm y/n. I'm really sorry about this."

"Don't be." He waves his hand to dismiss your apology. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Do you remember if you hit your head on the way down?"

"I don't. I think I might've been out before I fell."

"You still might've hit your head." The elevator dings and the doors open. He keeps one arm around your waist and ushers you down the hallway to his room. You look at him in his jumpsuit and wonder where he might possibly have a key stashed. He bends down and pulls it out of his boot, standing and unlocking the door. You stumble a little walking across the threshold and he steadies you again, watching you with even more concern. Once you're in the room with the door shut behind you, he seats you next to him on the couch. You yawn and blink slowly. Somehow, you're exhausted.

"Are you sleepy?"

"Mhmm." You answer, yawning again.

"Okay. We need to keep you awake. If you hit your head, you shouldn't go to sleep."

"I don't feel like I hit my head." He reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek.

"I'm not willing to take any chances, honey." You nod slowly and notice that his eyes flick down to your lips. He clears his throat and pulls his hand back. You're a little surprised that he almost seems shy.

"You're sure I can't just lay down?"

"No, baby, you gotta stay awake." He looks down at himself and then to the bathroom. "I need to shower, though. But I hate to leave you alone."

"I really think I'm okay." He looks at skeptically as you yawn yet again.

"No. You're comin' with me. You can wear your underwear in the shower. I won't touch you. C'mon." He makes you stand up off of the couch and takes your hand, walking you to the bathroom. You want to tell him that you'd happily get in the shower with him naked, but you don't. He puts you in first, facing the back of the shower and then you hear him undress and get in behind you. You're dying to peek and see what he looks like without his jumpsuit, but he's being so kind that you can't violate his privacy like that. Still, the knowledge that Elvis Presley is naked behind you in the shower makes you a little crazy. Just when you think it can't get much more endearing, he starts humming. Your heart melts when his humming turns to quiet singing and you're dying to turn around and wrap him in your arms. He's so much more precious in person than you ever dreamed he could be.

You're lost in a reverie when the shower turns off and you feel him turn to face you. You can tell he's looking at you and you want to turn around so badly. Everything inside you is screaming at you to just turn around. But it's like you're frozen where you stand. When he kisses your shoulder, though, your head rolls to the side and you're desperate for him to touch you. He doesn't though. Instead, he whispers.

"You stay here, baby. I'll get you a towel." He gets out of the shower and hands you a towel. "There's a robe hanging on the door. I'm right outside."

You dry off and slip out of your wet undergarments, wrapping the fluffy robe around yourself. When you open the door, he's sitting on the couch with a towel around his waist. He looks up at you in the robe and swallows deeply. You sit on the edge of the bed and smile awkwardly. He returns your smile.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep."

"Yes, sir." He chuckles softly and moves back to the bathroom. You settle against the pillows and hastily break your promise to stay awake. The warmth of rest washes over you and your eyes close.

******

Elvis puts you in the shower in your underwear facing away from him. It's impossible for him not to notice your figure, though. The curve of your ass in your white panties about drives him crazy. He strips naked and turns the shower on. Through the whole shower, he tells himself not to get aroused just at your proximity. Once he's finished, he pulls the handle to make the water stop and then turns to face you. Your hair and your body are wet from the shower and he wants to touch you so badly that it almost hurts. Without thinking, he leans down and presses his lips to your shoulder. It's an indulgence he should have resisted, but something about you is intoxicating. He breathes deeply and pulls himself away to get you a towel. Once he does, he walks out into the room and sits on the couch. What is it about you that has him so out of sorts?

When you come out in the robe, it takes all of his self control to keep from ripping it off of you. But he wants more from this. He wants to know you, not just fuck you and move on.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep." You give him a salute and he chuckles, making his way back to the bathroom. After about thirty seconds, though, he has a bad feeling. He doesn't even get his pants on and walks back into the room still in his towel.

He was right. You're asleep.

He moves to the bed quickly and sits next to you, shaking you gently.

"Hey, baby, wake up." You don't stir and he starts to panic. He thinks back to how he woke you up in the car and leans in and kisses your forehead. Still, you stay asleep. He kisses your cheek and then finally, he presses his lips to yours. Finally, your eyes flutter open and he smiles. "You're back."

******

"I am. You kissed me."

"I'm sorry; I was getting desperate." He looks into your eyes and your smiles fade.

"Do it again." You whisper and he nods, pulling your face back into his. He crashes his lips into yours and the kiss moves to a fever pitch as he parts your lips with his and slips his tongue into your mouth. He puts both hands on your cheeks and you sit up on your knees, ready to crawl into his lap. Thats when he notices his erection under the towel. It's impossible to hide and he pulls away, looking down, and trying to push his cock down to make it less obvious.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, honey."

"Don't be. It's okay." He shakes his head.

"No. It's not. I brought you up here just to keep an eye on you and now this." He's ashamed at his reaction to you. He feels your finger under his chin and you pull his face to looking into yours.

"Elvis, I've loved you for as long as I can remember. Meeting you? Knowing you? It just confirms everything I've ever believed to be true about you." He melts at your words and pulls you in close to him, kissing you deeply. But he pulls away again.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't know if you should do... this..."

"Then maybe I can do this..." You reach your hand forward and run it down his chest to the top of the towel. Then, he inhales sharply as you move further down to where his cock is erect underneath it. You slide your hand under the towel carefully and take him in your palm. He moans softly as you begin to stroke him, moving his foreskin back and forth gently.

"God, baby, that feels so good. You don't have to-"

"Shhh. You've been taking care of me all night. Let me take care of you." His hips buck into your hand as you continue to pump him. He grunts and leans his head back as you move your hand a little faster.

"Mmm, baby..." He moans as you push his foreskin back and collect a bead of precum that's gathered there, running your thumb across his sensitive head. He leans back and lets you move the towel out of the way to free his cock and stroke it in the open. You pump him a little faster and he groans again. "It's so good, baby."

He feels your lips on his cheek as you move your hand on him and turns to kiss you. He looks into your eyes and puts his hand on your cheek, leaning in to capture your lips again. Then, he presses his forehead to yours and whispers.

"Thank you..." You smile and continue moving your hand up and down on him gently. He throws his head back and his hips buck again. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-"

A guttural groan rises from his throat as he cums, hard, and shoots his climax all over your hand. You pump him through his release and he shudders into your palm. He uses the towel to wipe your hand clean and then lays back on the bed.

You giggle a little and lay back with him. He turns and looks at you.

"I haven't been that satisfied with a handjob in years."

"I haven't given one in years." You smile. He rolls over and smothers you in kisses, forgetting for a second that you might be hurt. He pulls back and looks into your eyes, reaching down to undo the tie on your robe. His hand runs underneath it onto your stomach and down to your hip.

"Can I make you feel good too, honey?" You nod frantically and he laughs out loud. Then he stops and looks at you seriously. "Alright, just don't move around too much. I'll never forgive myself if this hurts you."

"I really think I'm fine." He sinks to the floor between your knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He spreads your legs, kissing the inside of each of your thighs gently. You moan softly as he leans forward and drags his tongue up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top.

"Oh, god, Elvis!" You whimper as he continues to move his mouth on you. He swirls his tongue over and around your clit in tantalizing circles. The sensation drives you wild and your pussy clenches around nothing as he licks you. He dips down and pushes his tongue into your slit several times before slipping one of his long fingers inside you. You whine and arch your back as he pumps his finger in and out and goes back to dragging his tongue over your clit. The pressure of your orgasm builds as he works and you know you won't last too much longer. He pulls back a little and flicks your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, teasing your orgasm out of you.

"Cum for me, baby." He whispers, pressing his whole mouth to you and moving his tongue on you hard.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" You cry out as your orgasm crashes into you, pumping through your veins like electric shockwaves. He continues working his mouth on you as you ride out your high, your hand in his hair.

When you finally come back down and stop shuddering, he pulls back, wiping his face with his hand and laying next to you on the bed.

"Wow." He chuckles and looks over at you. "No, seriously, I've never had a man...get me there."

"Really?"

"I mean, they've tried, but never successfully. It's like I was waiting for you."

"Honey, I feel like I've been waiting for you too." He rolls over and put his hand on your cheek.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't explain it. Something about being here with you, feels like I was meant to catch you."

"It feels like I was meant to fall." He presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You shimmy out of the robe and get under the covers with him. He holds your naked body close to his own, running his hands over you gently as you talk.

You spend the rest of the night in conversation and soft touches. He tells you stories about his life and listens attentively when you share yours. The connection between you strengthens with each passing hour and each soft caress and each sweet kiss.

When the sun peeks through the curtains of your hotel room, he pushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I think you're okay, baby. You haven't had any other symptoms and it's probably been long enough now that you would have."

"Should I leave?"

"Not unless you want to."

"I don't."

"Then stay. We made it to the morning. We can rest now." You nod and he settles on your chest. You're both asleep within minutes, wrapped around each other.

Eventually, there's a harsh knock on the door and someone calls to him from the other side of it.

"Hey, boss, we gotta be wheels up in twenty."

"Okay." He hollers back, groaning and stretching.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night." You whisper.

"Don't be, honey, that's the best night I've had in years." You both get up and start to get dressed. When you're fully put back together, he grabs you and pulls you into a warm embrace.

"I hate that you're leaving." You mumble into his chest.

"Come with me."

"What? No, I can't."

"Why not?" You wrack your brain for a reason, but there's nothing keeping you here. Nothing that's more important than him.

"Okay." You look up into his face, your arms still wrapped around each other.

"Really?"

"Yes. Can we swing by my apartment and let me grab a few things?"

"Baby, I'm Elvis Presley, we can do whatever we want." He leans in and kisses you softly again. "You know somethin'?"

"Hmm?"

"I know I caught you when you fell, but I think you're the one who saved me tonight." He takes your hand to lead you out of the room and into your future. "My own little angel fell right out of the sky. I'm so glad you did."

******

The End

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

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things

[jhoneybees]

Guardian Angel

Here you go, darlings :)

Characters: 70s!Elvis x little!reader

Warnings/triggers: Anxiety, Stage fright, age regression, little!space

_____________________________________________

Elvis has always been the type to not seek help when he needs it. He just thinks he can handle everything himself, he’s done it from the day he could walk and talk. 

So asking for help is a thing he never really does. Why would he anyhow? It’s beyond him because he can deal with his own troubles himself. 

When people do offer him help, he’s appreciative of it. It’s kind but he just declines the offer and politely brushes it off. 

When it comes to you though, someone he’s been madly in love with from the first time you met. He occasionally accepts your help whenever you would offer because he knows you can sense he’s lying when he says he doesn’t need anyone to help and he knows it worries you and he hates seeing a pretty little thing like you worrying.

So ever since preparing for the opening night at the International hotel, he’s been considering the thought of asking you to comfort him with his stage fright. He doesn’t really know how though.

He’s always suffered from stage fright. Every performance he did, from the first concert in Tupelo to the comeback special he was a shaky, sweaty, anxious mess and tonight isn’t any different. It’s actually worse.

“Smile, E!” a photographer calls out. 

After giving the camera what it wants, Elvis lowers his eyes back down towards the coffee table. Nervously fidgeting with a pen in his hand and licking his lips, his head spins with thoughts of tonight’s upcoming performance and the commotion going around him.

It’s a big milestone for Elvis, to be performing at the International. He gets this opportunity to show a pretty big audience that big sound he’s been experimenting with on a big stage and it gives him an opportunity to connect with his fans more.

 He’s real excited but also mighty nervous. 

“Wardrobe in half an hour, Elvis.”

Elvis nods. 

Running his hand through his hair with a deep breath, Elvis lifts his gaze and leans back against the couch with his hands on his head as he scans the room.

“Tonight is a new performance with a new audience” he thinks to himself.

He gulps.

Damn, his nerves are eating him alive. 

Elvis sighs quietly and closes his eyes, trying his best to soothe his anxious mind before someone mentions you coming into the room.

“Daddy?” a soft voice calls out. 

Opening his eyes again and looking to his right, he smiles gently at the sight of you standing there fiddling with the hem of your pretty pink dress. Looking at him with big eyes. 

Dropping the pen on the coffee table, Elvis holds his arms out with a hum. “Hi baby”

Seeing the corners of your mouth turn up, you climb up to straddle his lap and he pats your head softly.

 “How’s my little, hm?” he asks, earning a quiet nod from you and he lightly chuckles as you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head in the crook of his neck. 

“Good?”

“Mhm…” 

He breathes out a smile and pecks your forehead with a small hum. Tightening his embrace around your sweet figure before looking down as you speak. “Daddy’s gonna sing see see rider?” 

Elvis laughs and nods. “Mhm, Daddy’s gonna sing a lot of songs tonight.”

He feels you move your head and cups your cheek with loving eyes. Noticing your eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Daddy?”

“Hm?”

“You’re nervous.”

Elvis frowns and chuckles confused. 

“How do you know that?” rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

You lightly shrug. “Help?”

He observes your face and thinks, he adores how you always ask him if he wants help.

He reluctantly nods.

“A-Alright…” he whispers.

Smiling a little at your sparkly eyes, he lets out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding in as you hug him again. This time a lot tighter. 

“What’re nervous ‘bout?” you ask and he breathes in deeply, squeezing you in his firm hold.

“...Nervous about the show, baby.”

Feeling your head move on his shoulder again, you pull away and look at him with a calm expression. “s okay ta be nervous ‘bout the show, Daddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm…” you nod. “Shows that you care.” 

Elvis smiles genuinely at your words.

“E-Everyone came to see you because they love you, Daddy, jus’ like I do!” you exclaim, making him chuckle and pat your butt gently.

“Ya think so?” 

He laughs again at you cupping his cheeks. “Yeah! No one does a show like Daddy does.”

You always seem to know what to say to ease his nerves. It’s almost like you’re his little guardian angel. 

“Thank you, Angel.”