#reader x elvis presley | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

voxmortuus · 10 months ago

Text

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Dom!Benny Cross x Sub!F!Reader

⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Bikeriders

⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 3k

⇘ SUMMARY:⇙ Seems you've found yourself in a rather unique situation. You've known Benny for a long while, but you always felt a little out of his league, whatever league that may be, it just didn't feel like you were good enough for him. The thing is, you're just what he's looking for. You've got a lot of love to give, a heart on your sleeve, and a loyalty that is stronger than a dog. He wants you, but he wants you specifically. He wants you to be his old lady, he wants you to be his ride or die. Once he gets you alone though, the patches stay on, and things get a little far from vanilla.

⇘ NOTES:⇙ I hope this brings you some joy.

⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa

⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa

⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

Was it happenstance, or was it planned that he happened to show up today? Handing the beer over the counter, you lean against the bar, and you smile the sweetest smile you've got in you.

"Well shit, if it ain't Benny Cross. How long has it been?" You asked. Benny looked up at you as he walked in, giving you that same crooked grin he always walked around with. He gave a slight chuckle.

"Well, no shit. It's been, what, almost 7 years?" He asked you. You nod your head and chuckle a bit.

"Yeah, somethin' like that." you smirk and look down at the bar top.

It had been what feels like forever. It feels like you haven't seen him in ages, and truth be told, it had been ages. Seven whole ages, as a matter of fact. Smirking, he looks over you as he approaches the bar. Looking over his face, you smile, and a soft blush graces your cheeks, causing you to feel warm. Letting out a soft, shaky breath, you glance around, realizing that no one else was there in the bar, but you knew that wasn't going to last too long. How do you even say what you think you need to say. You groan, and you sigh and decide not to say anything.

As the night went on, the two of you mingled and caught up. He learned quite a bit about you, just as much as you learned about him. You learned quite a bit, and he learned just as much. However, you learned something that he didn't tell you either, he had always liked you. Well fuck. Upon closing up the bar, you look at him and shake your head.

"Benny, I've always had a thing for you. I always thought you were too good for me. Outta my fuckin league." you state honestly.

Benny stopped and stared at you. "Outta my league? No, no. I felt you were outta mine. Let me ask you this... you still want me?"

"I've always wanted you... that never changed, never after all these years." you admit.

He looks at you and runs his hand over his face. Nodding his head, he looks back toward the door. Looking back at you, he walks to the door and locks it. "Come here." he points to the ground in front of him.

Lifting a well-manicured and well-defined brow, you walk to him and stand in front of him. You look over that face, that handsome, perfectly chiseled face, and you lose yourself all over again. Why? Why, when you are around him, he makes you feel so... weak. He makes you feel so... dead-brained.

Walking to you, he sticks a finger under your chin and forces you to look up at him. A thought crosses his mind, an urge.

"I want you to prove to me how much you want me." He tells you, his voice drops an octave as he watches you.

"How do you want me to do that Benny? Just say the word and you got it." You state.

"Strip, then lay flat, face down on the floor." He states.

Okay, so that was NOT what you had expected. Blinking a few times, you don't hesitate, and you do just that. Stripping down, you fold your clothes and place them to the side, and you lower yourself to the floor. Biting your lower lip, you listen as he paces around you, observing you, taking in your figure, your heartbeat picks up in anticipation as you watch his boots come into view, and he stops and looks down at you.

Benny lights a cigarette and takes a long drag from it. Watching you as you lay there, he runs his free hand through his hair and then over his facial hair for a moment. Smirking, he takes a few steps closer to you and kneels down a moment, a hand dangling between his legs.

"So, you've gone this whole time not sayin anything. All because you felt I was out of your league... You know Darlin' if you had said anything, you may have learned a thing or two about how I felt. Maybe you need to be punished for that, huh? Teach you how to speak your mind? Make you beg for my attention now?" he stated.

Why did that make your cunt tingle? Make you hot? And why the fuck did that sound like such a good idea coming from him? You nod softly.

"No, I want you to say it." He stated firmly as he took a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke bellow above him as he exhaled.

"Yes. Punish me, teach me to speak my mind... make me... beg." You state. Your eyes look at his boots, and your fingers press into the floor as they are stretched out to your sides.

Standing up, he looks ahead of him, out the window of the bar, and smirks. He leans against the pool table, thinking of ways to punish you. Looking at your figure as you are sprawled out against the floor, so many things come to mind.

Standing back up from leaning, he pushes himself from the pool table and walks to you. He places his right boot on the side of your head. Not stepping, but applying just enough pressure for it to feel -- oddly comfortable. Your fingers press into the floor as you gasp. Why are you feeling this right now? Feeling these... feelings push through your thoughts. You bite your lip, and you let out a slow breath.

"Now, I've been thinking, since walking into this place, since we started talking, reminiscing about the past. I have been thinking about how things could go. About how we could have been together this whole time. But now, now I see the kind of girl you really are. I won't lie, Darlin'... kinda revs me up a bit. Eager to please." he mused a moment.

Looking down at you, he tilts his head, a sight for sore eyes, and fuck did he enjoy the view. Licking his lips, he took another drag from his smoke before he reached over to a close by table and tapped the ashes into an ashtray he had. With your head under his boot, he looks over the rest of your body. Leaning over with a smoke between his lips, his fingers run down the length of your spine. Feeling your flesh under his fingers.

"Soft to the touch." he pointed out.

Standing back up, he moved away from you, leaving you to bite your lip and almost ask for more. But instead, he reached down, grabbed your hair, and moved you to a standing position. You guided yourself with ease, and there was this deeper part of you that also enjoyed that. "What is wrong with me?" you asked yourself.

Moving you to sit in a chair, he spreads your legs apart. Looking over you, he licks his lips.

"Hands on your thighs, don't move them." He demands.

You nod in agreement. He wasn't going to demand the 'Sir' word just yet, but holy fuck was he going to enjoy it when it happened.

"Now I'm going to ask you a question, either say yes or say no. It's that simple. Got it?"

"Yes. I understand."

"Good. I'm going to hurt you, but it's not because I want to hurt you, it's because well... I want to see you in a different light, and because I enjoy it. Do you consent?" he looks over your face.

Taking a moment to understand, you've read some raunchy trashy books, so you knew not to compare the two, you weren't that naïve. You draw in a breath and you nod. "Yes. I consent." you finally state.

With a smirk across his lips, he nods. "Good girl. So long I've wanted to do this to you." He stated as he put his smoke out.

Walking behind the bar, he went to wash his hands, took a swig off a whiskey bottle, and made his way back toward you. Standing in front of you, he tilts his head. With a firm hand, he looks at you and throws it across your face. At first, you gasp, you close your eyes, your head whipped to the side. You whimper, not sure how to feel about it. You look to the ground, but he takes your chin and forces you to look back at him, and he smiles. Giving you a wink, and that's when you feel this sense of calm wash over you. It's like this switch was flipped in your mind. Submissive mode on... more so than before.

You didn't dislike the feeling on your skin, a hot sting. He brought his hand back, and it met your face again. Quickly moving to grab your chin, he leaned in and kissed your lips softly.

"Atta girl." he praised.

You felt this bubble of excitement rise inside you. It was this rush that moved through your veins like a hot liquid. Bubbling at the surface, wanting more.

"More, please." You ask.

He was happy to oblige. A little harder, be clipped your lip, but you didn't mind. The coppery taste on your tongue was sort of pleasant, a welcomed gift. You smile looking up at him. He looked at you, almost worried, but yet oddly calm. He smirked, leaning in he kissed you again, nipping at your now swollen lip. You feel your lower lips clench and quiver with want. Your breath was shaky against his lips.

His hand moves down your torso, moving to grip a breast before his hand moves down your apex right to your core. Your breath, staggered, your heart, pounding, your mind, stupid. You clench your lower walls and bite your lip, watching him, feeling him, desiring and needing him. You whimper. His fingers hover, and the heat from his flesh kisses your warm, swollen, needy bud.

When he finally brings his fingers to touch you, you gasp. You lock eyes with him, studying his baby blues as he begins to work your little swollen bundle of nerves. His free hand moves to jerk your head back by pulling your hair, as he hovers over you. His legs pressed against yours spreading your legs further as he worked you, exposing you to the pool table behind him.

But it was when he slid his fingers into you that your mind went more stupid. You let out a heavy moan as your eyes flutter, feeling his fingers work you. Leaning back in the chair, you let him take complete control, as he desired, and your body was no longer your own, and you were far from upset with that idea.

His fingers were like magic, but suddenly that all came to a stop. He looks at you, holding his fingers up as he looks at you. Bringing them to his lips he placed them in his mouth and smirked.

"Finger lickin good... Now... show me what you do with that pussy of yours when you think of me, because let's face it, Darlin, with all you've admitted, I know you've thought about me." He smirked as he moved back to lean against the pool table.

Looking at you he watches intently. Your hand moves to your bud as you slowly begin to work yourself. You watch him, intently, watching how he moves, how he breathes, how his lips curl with that crooked grin of his. You begin to remember how his lips tasted, how they felt against yours, how his fingers felt playing with you. You whimper as you bring your other hand up to grip your breast. Your breathing becomes heavy and you watch as the front of his pants grow tight.

Biting your lip you tasted the blood but your focus was on him.

"Atta girl, slow down, not too fast." he guides.

He readjusts against the pool table as he undoes his pants, freeing himself, he begins to stroke himself slowly. You slow down a bit, your toes curl against the floor as your legs spread even wider giving him a full view as you scoot forward a bit and expose your whole self even more.

"Just like that, keep going. What crosses your mind when you think of me?" he asked you.

Letting out a whimper you look over him as he strokes himself right in front of you. Dear fuck, his cock is god damned perfect.

"What you would feel like inside me." You state honestly with a soft whimper.

"What I'd feel like inside you huh? Well, maybe if you're a good girl, you'll find out." He mused as he moved his hand a little quicker against his cock. "Pick up a little speed." He demanded.

Without a shadow of hesitation, your fingers begin to work yourself quicker. You moan a little louder. His hand works himself faster, a little harder. He grunts, you whimper. It's a tandem of back and forth, a perfect give and take.

It feels like a lifetime, but a lifetime you'd never give back. He sees how wet you are, how you're beginning to drip off the edge of the chair. He snarls and walks to you, taking you by your hair he guides you to the floor and slips his cock between your lips, pressing to the back of your throat. He lets out a heavy groan.

Like a good girl, you take all of his cock, your tongue swirling around as he uses you like a little sex doll, fucking your face. He pulls you back, strings of spit from your mouth to his cock still connected as he slaps you across the face and shoves his cock down your throat again. Your eyes water and your breathing through your nose becomes heavy, and he does it again. Pulls you from his cock, slaps your face and brings your mouth back to his cock, and proceeds to fuck your throat and mouth, his grip on your hair tight it pulls at your scalp. Your moans and whimpers echo and vibrate through him and you as he uses your head to pleasure himself.

"Finger yourself." He snarls

You begin to do just that, your fingers working yourself as your mouth is being used. He smirks looking down at you before he's had enough of using your face he throws you back onto the floor and stands over you.

"Keep going." He demands.

And you do, you don't question him.

"Yes Sir." You state. Again, no question.

He's officially lost all control, at this point you both have. He works his cock faster, and you're watching every bit of it while you're moaning loudly just slightly below him as you work your bud, driving your fingers as deep as you can, feeling your wetness. You want to finish, you're right there, you almost cannot contain that hot explosion between your legs.

"No girl, you gotta beg for that finish." He states.

"Please, please let me cum" You plead.

He shakes his head. "Not yet... keep going... faster." He demands.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you work yourself faster, you arch slightly your toes curled under you. You're rocking back and forth your hips buckle.

"Please... please Sir... I want to cum. Can I please. Please." You beg.

He looks down at you as he works his cock, and he feels his own eruption on the rise. He looks down at you and smirks.

"Open up." He states.

Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and you begin to taste those hot wet ribbons as he releases against your tongue, and over your face.

"Come on... Cum for me." He growls as he continues his facial finish.

You let out a heavy moan, a loud breathy gasp as your body begins to tremble. His cock tapped against your tongue as if saying he was finished with his finish. He watches you shake, almost a pleasure convulsion. You begin to giggle, swallowing what was in your mouth, and cleaning up your face. Licking it from your fingers.

"Thank you." you muse.

He looks over you and smiles. "No, thank you." he chuckles as he puts himself away.

Moving toward you, he scoops you up places you on the pool table, and looks over your face. He moves a moment and grabs a bottle of water from the bar fridge, and a clean, rag, getting it cool, he moves back toward you. Wiping your face, and neck, he starts to wipe you off and smiles handing you the water bottle.

"So I have a question." He states.

"Yes Sir?" you ask.

"How about you be my Old Lady... my ride or die... my one and only. My little pet... my little pain slut... my girl." He asked you looking over your face.

You look up at him, and this sense of perfection washes over you as you lean forward and kiss him sweetly. "I've waited a long time for that..."

"So is that a yes?" he asks with a smirk.

Nodding your head you chuckle place your arms around him and pull him in for another kiss. "That's a Yes." you whisper against his lips.

Smirking he presses his lips against yours and wraps his arms around you. Holding you tightly against him he leans back and looks over your face.

"Now, how about I take you back to my place, and show you how I feel inside you..." he smirked.

Nodding your head you chuckle. "Yes please, Sir." you whisper against his lips.

He kisses you again, and helps you get dressed before he takes you to his bike, hands you a helmet, and takes off in the direction of his place.

Everything that happened today, it felt like a dream, but this dream was one you'd remember. Only it wasn't a dream. This was real, and you were about to unlock a new chapter in your life.

1K notes · View notes

wanderingelvis · 10 months ago

Note

hi girlie! love your work, please could you write about a reader that loves sex with ep but is still very innocent?

i hope you like it! thank you for requesting!

masterlist is here for more elvis fics takin' new elvis requests here

wc - 2.8k

warnings - SMUT, daddyk!nk, profanity, overstim, praisek!nk, innocencek!nk, all the usual stuff for me

Elvis was the one to expose you to a lot of your firsts. Your first kiss, your first time in Las Vegas, your first designer dress, your first sip of alcohol but most importantly, your first experience of sexual pleasure.

Now, despite your innocence, even you knew that Elvis had been with many lovers and was well known for his abilities in the bedroom. Sure, it made you a little hesitant at first, a little scared that he would find someone more exciting and experienced than you and forget all about you. Actually, you were more than a little scared of that happening, you were terrified, you didn't even want to fall for Elvis because you never felt that you were worth the famous man's time or attention but oh Lord, you fell hard.

And you could tell straight away why so many people fell for him, when he looked at you, it felt like he was looking through to your soul and out the other side again. It was like you were the only person in the world to him in that moment.

But when Elvis introduced you to the world of pleasure and sex, you couldn't get enough. You were nervous during your first times, so, so nervous and Elvis could tell. But he went slowly with you, praising you and cooing at you as you took all of him, even if it stretched your walls and made a few sweet, little tears trickle down your cheeks.

Elvis would always praise you and make it clear what he was doing too, never leaving you in the dark.

"M'gonna take off these pretty lil' panties now, little girl."

"Open them lips f'me doll, that's it, just like that, good." He would hiss.

"Daddy's gotchu, s'okay baby, yer likin' that ain't ya? S'okay, I know yer overstimulated. That's my girl."

"Yer takin' my fingers so well little one, that's right, you're doin' so good f'me. You like that dontchu dolly? Yeah? M'gonna add another finger, stretch out yer pretty lil' cunt, I know you can handle it baby."

And he'd delight in watching you get so worked up under him, writhing with pleasure and practically begging for more through whimpers and tears each time.

Yet still, that sweet naivety that clouded you never left. You were always still seeking Elvis' guidance and love and attention and that's when Elvis realised the gem that he had in you.

You'd gaze up at him with uncertainty, seeking reassurance with every move as he would teach you all the ways he enjoyed being pleasured and Elvis would have to stroke your pretty little head as he taught you how to give it.

You became obsessed with feeling pleasure from Elvis, you found yourself begging and mewling for it in the morning, whispering in Elvis' ear during the day asking for him to take you, and undressing yourself at the earliest opportunity in the evenings so that Elvis would have his way with you.

And he'd always chuckle at you fondly, adoring your sweet desperation.

You didn't even know the names of the acts that the two of you were performing but it didn't matter, your head became fuzzier and fuzzier over time, your only goal was to feel the pleasure that Elvis gave you.

And it wasn't long before Elvis realised you were his naive little nymphomaniac.

You were sat in your regular spot in the International, watching Elvis perform. You just thought he was oh so magical, the way he sang, the way he moved and gyrated on stage, captivating you and the rest of the audience. You watched tiny beads of sweat drip down his tanned face onto the chest hairs that were exposed by the white jumpsuit he wore.

He'd look over at you, every now and then, sending you a wink to make sure you knew he remembered that you were the most important little girl in the audience and by the end of the show, that sweet desperation that had started to become an all too familiar feeling, was creeping its way in.

And Elvis just loved to tease you. He practically relished in watching you whine and plead for his touch and his love, he just thought you were so sweet, especially when you still didn't understand half of what was going on, you just got so carried away.

So, when you and Elvis finally made it back up to the hotel suite after the show, you were nothing short of desperate. See, Elvis had this thing where he was just so damn nice to everyone that after a show, he'd go around and thank everyone for their hard work, and whilst you loved that about him, you were growing needier and needier by the second.

Elvis knew you all too well though, he knew that he was dragging this out for his little desperate baby. In fact, he didn't just know, he enjoyed it. Elvis decided to drag out the process and turn you into his own needy little mess tonight.

"You look so pretty tonight baby, y'know that? Got all dressed up n'pretty f'me huh?" Elvis teased, lowering his head slightly to kiss the top of yours as his large hand traced your skimpy, sparkly dress that he'd bought for you, only three days before.

You gulped and nodded quickly, smiling and letting out a giggle - he'd barely touched you and yet there you were all flustered.

It was no surprise though that just a couple of loving words and a gentle touch from Elvis would send you spiralling each time he did it. You'd never experienced life the way that you had since Elvis came into it, before Elvis, you would attend your part time job, go to the library and do your studies. It was mundane, unexciting, and repetitive. Then, you met the most famous man in the entire world and everything changed, you had so many new experiences from spending hours in lavish boutiques, to dining next to the King of Rock n' Roll as you both sat in the crowd, watching Frank Sinatra singing.

In all honesty, it was a life you were never prepared for, you still weren't adjusted to it all that well, that's why you clung to Elvis, he was like some form of security blanket for you, a protector of sorts that looked after you and cared for you. He knew you were new to everything so he would always take things slow with you, making sure that you were always okay and comfortable.

He'd help alleviate the stress of the lifestyle change in lots of ways, for example, he would choose what you wore each day and how you did your hair and make up. Now, many people had called this controlling, but how were you, a girl that had never stepped foot on the Las Vegas strip, supposed to know what to wear to a casino and show? Elvis knew what would look good on you and what would be appropriate for each occasion because Elvis always knew what was best for you. He ended up knowing you better than you knew yourself.

The new world that surrounded you, Elvis' world, was intoxicating. You hardly ever had time to think straight or understand what was going on around you.

But what you did know was that when Elvis touched you, you felt good, so you chased that feeling.

"C-Can we, can we do the stuff?" You whispered, avoiding Elvis' gaze.

Elvis smirked, oh Lord you were just the most adorable little thing. "The stuff? Well baby, yer gon' have to use a couple more words than that." Elvis said with a dry chuckle, lighting up one of the Cuban cigars that Sammy Davis Jr had gifted him.

You sighed a little, a mix of desperation, impatience, frustration and embarrassment. "Can, c-can you, touch me?" You asked softly. "Please?" You squeaked, pleadingly.

"Oh Little One," Elvis hushed, causing a sweet whine to leave your lips. "Y'need me t'touch you huh baby?" Elvis teased as you nodded almost frantically with wide eyes, leading him to chuckle at your state. "Need me t'make you feel good hm?" Elvis said, his eyes growing dark in comparison to your wide, sparkly eyes.

"Uh-huh," You squeaked adorably, barely an inch between the two of you.

God, Elvis could just devour you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he cupped your face in his large coarse hands, his left hand also holding his cigar between his fingers, the warm filler of it tinging the skin on your pink cheek, making you wince as you gazed up at him with eyes wider than a Disney princess.

"I ain't gon' touch you tonight honey, no, yer gon' do it all on yer own." Elvis whispered cooly, as you whined at the thought of not having him touch you, your eyes resembling that of a puppy dog as your desperation grew.

"What do you mean?" You murmured looking up at Elvis tentatively with a shaky voice as Elvis placed his large hand on the small of your back and guided you to the bed where he set you down, moving you like you were his own little doll, but in many ways, that's exactly what you were.

"You're so needy Little One, yer gon' have t'learn how to pleasure yerself baby," Elvis teased, facing you as you sat upright, letting his hands roam up your sides as your body trembled in his hold.

You chewed on your lip cutely, "Are you not gon' touch me at all?" You asked, your head tilting.

"No honey, y'gotta learn how to touch yerself, yer gon' touch yerself f'me okay baby?" Elvis instructed and you nodded despite feeling apprehensive. "Good girl." Elvis praised. "All I'm gon' do is get you undressed so I can watch all of you as you play with your lil' pussy."

You shivered as Elvis' coarse hands shimmied your dress up, exposing your white panties that already had a wet patch that was making the fabric sheer and translucent, letting Elvis see the pretty pink flesh that was so needy.

"Let's get these cute lil' panties off baby, looks like y'need them off." Elvis chuckled making you blush. "Oh baby, m'only teasin." Elvis said, soothing you as he dragged the damp panties over your legs, letting them pool at your feet as he grabbed each leg and helped untangle them from you, all the while being careful not to singe your skin with the burning cigar that he took a puff from every now and then. "Atta girl." He cooed. "Now, pretty girl, spread them legs f'me." Elvis instructed and you did exactly what you were told, gazing at him intently.

Elvis really had taken over your entire life, you basically worshipped the man. Sure, there was a noticeable age difference and there was a definite power imbalance but as much as you worshipped him, Elvis treated you like you were the most delicate, precious thing in his life.

Despite Elvis having all the power, he could practically feel his old men knees buckle whenever you would lie there on the mattress, staring up at him adoringly with those wide eyes full of curiosity and love. Your plump, glossy lips parted ever so slightly as you studied all of Elvis' movements as he took your tender wrist in his large hand, guiding your hand to your slick coated cunt.

Your breathing was shaky at best, your chest rising and falling ever so erratically, making Elvis smirk at how nervous you were, even though he knew how much you needed to be satisfied.

Slowly, he directed his hand over yours, making your soft, small fingers fondle your soaked folds, your slick leaking from your pussy as your fingers traced up and down your slit.

Your gaze wandered back and forth between Elvis and what was happening 'down there', the curiosity and nervousness getting the better for you as you let out soft gasps and mewls at yours and Elvis' actions.

"Keep going." Elvis commanded, removing his hand from yours, letting you continue on with the motions as you began to pleasure yourself in front of the old man. "Tell me how it feels honey." Elvis said, his voice emotionless as his eyes darkened on you as you squirmed about.

You blinked hazily, your mind becoming a mess, your attention becoming divided by the overwhelming sense of pleasure and the God of a man that stood at the end of the bed, towering over you, not taking his eyes off you and your body.

Only a single, small lamp illuminated the room in a dull, dark pink tone, the rest of the light coming from the Las Vegas strip, the bright lights reflecting into Elvis' suite, letting Elvis see the silouhette and highlights of your body as you let your fingers rub around your clit in circular motions, eliciting soft whines from you.

"Feels so... feels so nice." You sighed lazily, moving your hips in a pathetic attempt to create more pressure between you and your own hand - but Elvis could only find it adorable how desperate you were. "B-But," You said through breathy whimpers. "Want you."

Elvis smirked, a slight chuckle leaving him, one that had an almost sadistic tone to it as he walked to a chair opposite the bed and sat in it, taking a puff from his cigar, letting the smoke cloud him as he stared at you.

"Not tonight little girl. Yer gon' keep going until yer learn how to make yerself cum like a good girl." Elvis hissed, causing you to whine at his denial. "Tell me what yer gon' learn, I want to hear you say it." Elvis softly demanded.

"Gonna, gonna," You whined, trying to do as you're told all the while touching your cunt. "Learn how t'make myself cum." You recited, your mind becoming hazy and the pace of your fingers quickening.

"Why?" Elvis teased, enjoying watching you battle with yourself, as he made you have to think whilst he knew that all you wanted to do was mindlessly pleasure yourself.

"Good girl, m'a good girl." You whimpered, your eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"That's right baby." Elvis praised, taking a drag from his cigar, never letting his eyes leave your body. "Put your fingers in your pussy for Daddy." Elvis instructed firmly - almost coldly.

You blinked at him, pausing your motions to silently confirm what he had said to you.

"Now." Elvis growled and you nodded tearily, pushing two fingers into your soaked hole, whimpers leaving your lips as your pink cheeks felt tears trickling down them from the sensations and the experience.

"You've never fingered yerself, pretty girl?" Elvis asked, watching your trepidation and jolted movements, he could tell you were experienced from the smallest of things.

All you could manage was a shake of your head as it rested on the mattress, your eyes rolling towards the back of your head as you let your fingers pump in and out of your pink pussy - and if your cheeks weren't already pink enough, Elvis would've seen a blush creeping onto your face at the question.

You cry out adorably from the pleasuring feeling, as you practically hump your own fingers, not noticing that Elvis is now palming the large bulge in his pants.

Oh, how he loved to be the one to corrupt you like this.

"Faster." Elvis demanded before you stared at him with nerves and apprehension in your eyes. "Don't you want to be my good girl?" Elvis teased, exploiting your desire for praise.

You nodded feverishly, tossing your head back onto the mattress as you let your fingers tease your hole at a quicker pace, slipping through your walls, your own slick acting as lube.

"Look at you, so needy, doin' such a good job of playing with your cunt and puttin' on a show fr' Daddy." Elvis praised, knowing his words would send you spiralling.

And he didn't stop, urging you on with gentle commands, praises and downright filthy comments as he got off to you masturbating for the first time.

"Such a needy puppy, ain't ya? That's it, doin' such a good job baby."

"Yer such a pretty sight fr' Daddy, fuckin' yerself with those fingers baby, it's okay, you can go faster, you can do it."

"Just breathe baby, y'can fit in another, I know that pretty pussy of yours can handle it. Good girl, that's it."

"Feelin' good huh? Gon' touch yerself when I'm on stage huh? Yer cunt that desperate huh kid?"

Elvis continued teasing and praising you, talking you through your first orgasm from your own masturbation, your mewls turning into full-blown cries before your body collapsed, and you lethargically pulled your fingers from your glistening, wrecked cunt.

You pushed yourself up and blinked adorably, looking at the wet patches on the silk bedding before you shyly looked up at Elvis.

"M'sorry, I made a mess on your sheets." You whimpered, still feeling overwhelmed and extra-sensitive, sniffling as you wiped away a stray tear.

Elvis couldn't help but smirk at the adorable sight in front of him.

You, the love and light of his life, a naked, flustered, soaked mess on his silk bed sheets, your chest rising and falling erratically as you came down from your self-inflicted high.

"Uh-uh, ain't nothin' t'be sorry about baby." Elvis cooed and he watched relief wash over you as you offered him the goofiest, sweetest smile at the reassurance and Elvis felt his both his heart and cock jump.

How had he been so lucky to have such a sweet, little, naive nymphomaniac such as you?

1K notes · View notes

presley4president · 6 months ago

Text

Me core:

451 notes · View notes

atleastpleasetelephone · 4 months ago

Note

Elvis teaching reader how to use vibrators one day then catching her using the, by herself one day..then using them on her til she can't take it anymore.

Dolly

A/N: oooh this was a fun one! Elvis is a little mean 😈

Pairing: 1970!Elvis x reader

Word count: 4.3K

TWs: Elvis is dominant, reader calls him daddy and sir(!), dollification (kinda), exhibitionism (if you squint), praise kink, orgasm control, pillow humping, mean!Elvis, teasing, forced orgasms, overstimulation, little bit of choking, general smut.

You sit on the sofa with your legs crossed demurely at the ankle, flicking through a magazine. Elvis has been out all morning, leaving you alone in the house to make your own entertainment. You’re not sure why he didn’t want you to go with him, and you find yourself worrying your lower lip with your teeth again, wondering if you did something wrong. The bang of the door opening and the chatter of conversation make you sit up, putting down the magazine and quickly smoothing down your little dress.

“Where’s my little dolly?” Elvis’ voice booms out through the downstairs of his LA house.

You spring to your feet, pushing them into your kitten heels and trotting towards the source of the noise, eager to see him.

“Here, Daddy!” You exclaim as you reach him.

One arm pulls you against him, his palm flat on your lower back as your face turns up towards his expectantly. You feel yourself enveloped in a cloud of cologne and cigar smoke as he leans down to kiss you. He lets you go to run his thumb over the bitten skin of your lower lip, eyes narrowing with concern.

“Need ta take better care a these here lips, dolly.” His thumb presses just that little bit more firmly, making your lips part a little. “Want ‘em nice an’ soft, sweetheart. Not like my old calloused fingers, here.”

He laughs then, eyes flicking around to the rest of the Mafia who’d come through the door with him. As if on cue, they all start laughing too. You’re not sure they could’ve all heard what he said, but they know which side their bread is buttered on.

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe.

He hums, seemingly satisfied, and steps back, holding out a bag that he’d been hiding behind his back.

“A gift for my pretty little doll.”

You beam with delight. He must've gone out without you to buy you a surprise. He knows how much you love surprises.

“Oooh, Daddy.”

Your hands go to either side of your face in girlish excitement and his lips curl into a slightly smug smile at such an enthusiastic response.

“Go on, take it baby.”

Your hand closes around the handle and he lets it go with a satisfied hum.

“Why don'tcha take it into your bedroom?”

You feel him watching you as you trot off with it, your ass jiggling in the tight little dress he'd set out for you to wear that morning. He follows at a more sedate pace but when you pause to open the door he catches up, and you feel the flat of his hand against your ass cheek. You giggle.

“You like my dress?” You tease, coquettishly, looking over your shoulder at him through your big false lashes.

“I love yer dress, baby,” he coos in response, moving his hand to press his groin against your ass instead, showing you just how much he likes it.

“Mmmm. Daddy!” Wiggling against him, one hand over your mouth, pretending to be scandalised.

“C'mon,” he clicks his tongue, back to using his hands again. “Don'tcha wanna open yer gift?”

You nod quickly, affirming him with a “yes, Daddy,” before moving quickly into the room and sitting down on your plush, pink bed. You'd asked for a heart-shaped one, almost as an unreasonably bratty demand, but he'd got it for you anyway.

His thigh presses up against yours as he sits down next to you, and you feel a familiar warmth start to spread between your legs. Peering into the bag, you dip your hand in to pull out a small pink box. You open it, rifling through the layers of pink tissue until you find another, smaller box.

You frown. What could it be? Perfume? It's kind of long and thin… opening one end you shake it carefully into your palm.

“Daddy? What is it?”

You pout as you try to comprehend the object in your hand. It's pink and plastic, shaped like a long thin ice cream cone. He gently takes it from you and thumbs a switch at the base that you hadn't noticed. It comes to life with a buzz, and he holds your hand palm up, pressing the end against your wrist. You jump.

“Ooh!”

That self-satisfied smirk reappears.

“A treat for my dolly. Ya like that?”

The vibrations creep along your skin and the feeling between your legs intensifies.

“Mmmm. What's it for?” You blink at him.

The smirk spreads further across his face. “Ya haveta guess, baby.”

Moving the pink toy from your wrist to your thigh, he studies your face as he drags it higher and higher. Suddenly, understanding spreads across it and your lips form a little o.

He chuckles, his other hand pushing your skirt all the way up, exposing your pink panties. Your eyes flick towards the semi-open door.

“Daddy?”

You watch his tongue poke out to wet his lower lip. “Don't worry ‘bout that, baby.”

Hearing the Mafia as they laugh and joke in the living room, you squirm, eyes fixed on the doorway now.

“What if they see?”

“Then they'll have me ta answer to.”

He presses the vibrating stick against your panties, and you forget all about the open door.

“Oh!”

A finger presses against your lips, and you flutter your eyes open, barely even realising you'd closed them in the first place.

“Lil bit a quiet now, darlin’. Know I said I'd deal with anyone seein’ ya, but yer only encouragin’ them with those pretty little noises, ain'tcha? Could ya blame ‘em if they came in?”

You shake your head and stare back at him, your eyes wide.

“N-no,” you whisper back.

“Be a good girl an’ be quiet f’me then, hm?”

You tell him yes again and he starts the vibration up again, having flicked it off when you’d cried out. Your teeth start worrying your lower lip until you remember what he’d said about it being rough. You suck it into your mouth instead, tongue running over it repeatedly. The feeling between your legs is growing and with it the wetness of your thin little panties.

Elvis clicks his tongue and switches the toy off again, making you wriggle about and let out a tiny moan. You look up into his blue eyes pleadingly, finding them dark with lust.

“You enjoin’ yerself, little girl?”

You nod quickly. “Y-yessir.”

His mouth curls into a self-satisfied smirk at the honorific. Your chest is heaving with your ragged breathing, you’re so turned on and desperate for him to touch you again.

“Darlin’. Daddy is just fine.”

“Yes Daddy,” the words tumble out of your mouth quickly, giving away your desperation if it weren’t already painfully obvious.

“Not that I don’t like it when ya call me sir…”

Your head spins. “Yes, Daddy… Sir… oh…”

He chuckles, thumb rubbing your cheek as his fingers rest underneath your chin.

“Poor ‘lil thing. Reckon ya really like yer new gift, hm?”

You nod again, deciding to not to confuse yourself further by speaking.

“Good girl,” he coos. “Let’s get these wet panties off, shall we?”

You shift your hips to help him as he pulls them down for you, instructing you to sit at the head of the bed with your legs spread. You watch as he closes the bedroom door, then stalks back towards you like a tiger stalking its prey. Your heart starts beating out of your chest and it takes all your concentration not to press your thighs together again.

He sits down beside you on the bed, his hand on your face again as he starts to kiss you. You're melting into him, the way his tongue gently and patiently parts your lips and then dances with your own. The noise of the vibrating stick buzzing into life reaches your ears just before the feeling of the vibrations reach your pussy. You jolt and moan into his mouth, and you can feel him resisting a smile. Pulling away, his thumb brushes your saliva-coated lower lip and the smile appears. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream.

“Ya can make all the noise ya want to now, dolly.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” rushes out of your mouth again, making his smile somehow even bigger.

“Ya like this, honey?” He asks, pushing it against your clit firmly. You’re starting to sweat and you wonder if this is too much pleasure and maybe you might have to scream.

“Y-yes. Oh God. Feels so good.”

“What about this?”

Without warning, he slips the long thin toy inside you and suddenly you’re vibrating from the inside out. Your hips buck and you moan, eyes fluttering closed.

“So good,” you whisper. Your brain seems dangerously blank.

He starts to fuck you with the vibrating toy and you can feel arousal spilling down your legs and onto the bed. If only Elvis’ dick did this when he fucked you. You think that his thick, vibrating dick would be even better than this feeling right now, before the feeling of his thumb pressing against your clit stops all further thoughts.

“Oh! Daddy!”

“Ya gonna cum fer me, dolly?”

You nod quickly, feeling the edges of your orgasm as he keeps up the pace with the toy and his thumb rolls your clit around.

“Oh… Oh…” you moan, helplessly, your body jolting and writhing with pleasure.

“That’s it. Cum f’Daddy.”

Your vision blurs as you feel the wave of orgasmic bliss crashing over you, the pleasure is so overwhelming you don’t know what to do. Wetness streams between your legs and you’re calling out Elvis’ name between desperate moans. You’re not sure sex has ever felt quite this good, although you know you definitely shouldn’t ever mention that to Elvis, feeling your body still and his hands move to gentle, tickling strokes of your thighs.

“Mmmmm. Good girl,” he hums.

Eventually your eyes flip open again and you gaze up at him in wonder.

“You never told me what it was, Daddy.”

He laughs. “Ya still don't know? Innocent lil thing. That's a vibrator, baby. A sex toy.”

“Are there more?” You ask, breathily. “Sex toys I mean.”

Those tickling, teasing fingers are still running over your skin as he considers your question.

“Yes dolly, lots more of ‘em. But this is all we need right now.” He moves his hand to your throat, thumb gently pressing against your windpipe. “An’ no usin’ it on yer own now, little girl.”

The warning tone is one you're used to by now, and you reassure him quickly that you wouldn't possibly dream of using it without him. He seems satisfied by your promises, tucking his thumb away and letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. He kisses you gently and you lean into him. You've barely come down from your high and you're already thinking about when you'll be allowed to use the toy again. You hope it's soon.

***

Elvis has been gone all day and he shows no sign of coming back. You flick through one of your magazines disinterestedly, then try reading one of his books. It's no good, though, you can't concentrate. He wasn't interested in pleasuring you last night, just teasing you until your pussy ached and then making you please him instead. Your pussy still aches now. It pulses with need, and you shuffle your legs back and forth, squeezing your thighs together as your dress rides up higher and higher.

Joe coughs.

“Uh… princess?” He has a habit of calling you princess when Elvis isn't there and you don't really like it.

“Hmmm.”

“Your uh… your skirt…” he mumbles, and you watch the blush spread across his cheeks as he says it.

“What about it, Joe?”

You probably wouldn't be this bratty if Elvis were here, but he isn't.

Another cough. “You might need ta… pull it down, honey. I don't think Elvis would like the view you're givin’ us right now…”

“Well Elvis isn't here!” You declare. Standing up, you pull your skirt down to where it belongs and huff loudly. “I'm going to bed!”

You can hear Joe humming and muttering to himself as you leave and you have half a mind to go and find his wife and tell her that he's been looking up your skirt. But the ache between your legs is reaching a fever pitch and you have to find a way to relieve it, right now. You stride into your bedroom and close the door behind you, looking quickly around as if you expected to find Elvis hidden in some corner or other. Of course he is nowhere to be seen, but you sigh anyway. You miss him. You like him being there to tell you what to wear and what to do and, hell, probably what to think too. In his absence you always make silly decisions, and as you unzip your dress and let it fall to the ground at your feet, you feel another one coming on. Sloughing off your panties and unclasping your bra, you stand in the middle of your bedroom completely naked aside from your heels. Elvis loves you in heels, he tells you they make your sooties look pretty, so you even wear them indoors. You spin around on the spot for a moment, looking at your white peeptoes. They do make your feet look nice. Then the throbbing between your legs makes itself known again and you remember your earlier frustrations. You don't think it's fair that Elvis denied you last night and then disappeared all day today. He doesn't like you touching yourself on your own, he always tells you Daddy has to be there to make sure his pussy is being treated right. But you don't know where he is, and your pussy isn't being treated right at the moment, you're damn sure of it.

Wandering over to the full-length mirror in the room, you take some time to give yourself a once over. You don't look bad naked, and the heels add a certain something. You turn to the side, kicking one foot up behind you and putting a hand on your hip. Pulling a pin-up style expression, you imagine Elvis behind you. Before you know it, the girl in the mirror has her hand between her thighs and is stroking herself there. She puts her other hand to her mouth in faux-surprise. Pleasure starts to pulse through your veins, excitement too, and the next thing you know you're thinking of the vibrator. Elvis did say it was a gift for you. An unhelpful part of your brain reminds you that Elvis also said you weren't to use it without him. You push the thought away, concentrating for a minute or two on the coquettish girl in the mirror, surprised at her own hand between her legs. Then you go in search of the box.

You’re on the bed, vibrator in your pussy, humping one of your pink fluffy pillows when the door opens a crack and Elvis looks in. You don’t notice him at first, of course you don’t, he’s being deliberately quiet and you’ve got carried away, lost in pleasure. You don’t even notice him slipping into the room completely, silently closing the door behind him. Your mouth falls open as the delicious friction on your clit brings you close to orgasm. That’s when you hear it.

“Dolly.”

At first you think you’ve imagined it. You want him here so badly that your brain has conjured up that soft southern drawl. As your eyes slowly open and your hips still, you finally register him standing in the middle of your room.

“Daddy!” You squeak, throwing yourself backwards off the pillow and quickly trying to cover up with one of the many throws on your bed. Your hand reaches between your legs to switch the vibrator off in a way that you pray is subtle but you’re pretty sure is anything but.

Elvis stares at you with ill-concealed annoyance. His jaw is ticking, clenching and relaxing over and over again in a way that you know spells trouble for you. He rakes a hand through his previously beautifully coiffed hair, leaving it spilling haphazardly over his forehead. You can’t help noticing how good he looks, the way his pants cling to his thighs, his rolled up shirt sleeves emphasising the muscles in his forearms.

“Jus’ what d’ya think yer doin’ exactly, little girl?” He asks, through gritted teeth.

“I-I was missing you, D-daddy…” you try. It’s not a lie, but it probably isn’t enough to save you.

He purses his lips, titling his head to the side as he huffs air out of his nose. “What have I told ya ‘bout pleasurin’ yerself without me?”

You wriggle uncomfortably under the blanket. The toy is still inside you and you’d been so close when he interrupted you. It’s not as if you’ve stopped wanting to finish. If anything, the way he’s talking to you is just making you wetter, your stomach twisting and turning, body aching with want.

“Not to,” you whisper. “‘M sorry, sir.” It’s a long shot, but maybe upping the ante will help. This might be a get-down-on-your-knees-and-beg-for-forgiveness sort of moment. If only doing that wouldn’t make it immediately obvious that not only had you been pleasuring yourself on your own, but you’d been using the toy that had been expressly forbidden too.

“I’ll make yer sorry,” he hisses, closing the distance between him and the bed in two large strides. Okay, so maybe your kneeling and begging moment has passed you by.

The speed with which he pulls the blanket off your body makes you squeal, and you try to wriggle away from him. Anything to stop him seeing what you’ve done, but of course he’s quick, much quicker than you and he grabs your ankles and pulls you across the bed by them. Another deeply exasperated and disappointed sigh falls from his lips and you know he’s spotted the toy.

“What. Did. I. Tell. Ya. About. This?”

You’re on your back now and he’s pushed your legs up and apart, hands on the backs of your knees as he leans over you menacingly.

“Sorry, sorry…” you mumble, eyes wide and afraid though you know the wetness leaking out of you is giving away your arousal. “...’m so sorry, sir.”

There’s a silence then, during which you can only assume Elvis is considering exactly what he’s going to do with you. You can almost see his brain working on his face, the way he frowns and then eventually his lips curl into a cruel smile.

“Ya wanna cum, little girl?”

You nod slowly, unsure. It seems like a trap, but you’re not sure exactly how it could be. The smile is wolfish now, and you start to feel like his prey laid out underneath him as he flicks the switch on again and the delightful buzzing fills your pussy.

“Well let’s see if that’s what ya want when I’m done with ya.”

Your brain latches on to the words briefly, and then stops trying to work out what they mean as he starts the same process as before, moving the toy in and out of you as he touches your clit. It’s mere moments before you’re cumming, the thrill of your orgasm rushing through your body from your core to your fingers and toes. The relief is so great you sigh with satisfaction, hands thrown above your head. You can hear him laugh a little, and you force your eyes open to try to figure out why. He’s already undone his pants by the time you look, and then his dick is in his hand.

“Warmed up now, aint’cha?” He coos, replacing the vibrator with his dick in one quick movement.

You yelp in surprise. You’re relaxed, but not relaxed enough to take him in one go so quickly and you feel your pussy stretch a little painfully. Elvis doesn’t care though, he barely gives you a second to adjust before he’s thrusting into you, making your body shake with each movement. The feeling is overwhelming, it’s pleasure and discomfort and a little sprinkle of oversensitivity to boot. You just lie there, being fucked, panting and moaning, barely able to string a thought together. Your ability to string a thought together leaves you completely when you feel the vibrations again, this time on your clit. You squeak.

“Daddy!”

“Mmmm. Want ya ta cum again, sweetheart,” he tells you, hair falling into his eyes, sweat on his brow.

“O-Oh…” you manage, and then your brain is gone again.

He keeps thrusting and holding the vibrator against your clit so firmly that all you can do is what he wants, and this time everything goes white and you feel like you’re floating in space, in your body and out of it at the same time. He moves the vibrator for enough time for you to catch your breath and then it’s back. And then he does something you didn’t know was possible - he turns it up.

“Ahhh! No!” You squirm and struggle, trying to get away from him. The feeling is just too much.

“Uh-uh, little dolly,” he chides. “Yer gonna lie here until ya cum again.”

“I-I can’t… I… oh God…”

“Ya wanted ta cum. ‘M jus’ lettin’ ya cum.”

You keep wriggling until his hand wraps around your throat.

“Stay. Still.”

You feel it tighten, blocking off your airway just enough to make the message clear. You stop moving your body but your head nods quickly and desperately. He presses the toy against your clit again.

“Relax and cum f’Daddy.”

His dick is still inside you as your walls flutter and then squeeze for the third time, your pussy hot and swollen. You don’t know how much more of this you can take. He’s not interested though, and he doesn’t give you another chance to try to escape after this one. Pulling out, he flips you onto your belly and lies on top of you, holding you down. Once he’s got you where he wants you, he shifts just enough to slip the vibrator between your legs and turn it up to full.

“No… no… ‘s too much, please…”

“One more, little girl.” His voice is gravelly, dark, dangerous.

Your clit is so sensitive now you don’t know what to do with yourself. Not that there’s much you can do with yourself, with all of Elvis lying right on top of you, holding you against the terrible buzzing torture. You can feel his hardness against your bare ass, you know he’s getting off on this. You hear someone start to whine, and then after a minute or so you realise it’s you.

“Relax, baby.” Sudden gentleness, his lips next to your ear, the smell of him all around you.

He kisses your neck and you’re screaming out the fourth orgasm, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes and then spilling down your cheeks, wetting the already much-abused pillow.

“Oh, good girl.”

“No more, please Daddy… no more…” you whine, arms and legs thrashing as he rolls off you and pulls the toy away, switching it off and tossing it over the other side of the bed.

“C’mere.”

He guides your face to his lap and your mouth to his stiff dick. Gently helping you move up and down on him, he tells you when he’s going to cum so you can prepare for it spurting down your throat. You only gag a little. The satisfied moan he makes fills you with pride, and you look up at his blissed-out face feeling warm and fuzzy now too. You lick your lips as you rest your head on his thigh, starting to feel tired. After a while he comes round from his orgasm and you feel him move you gently and stand up, tucking himself away again.

“I’ll run ya a bath,” he announces, getting up and going into the en suite.

Sitting up slowly, you realise your pussy feels about twice its usual size, puffy and hot between your legs.

“‘M sorry, Daddy,” you tell him as soon as he’s back, eyes big and desperate for approval.

The corners of his lips pull into a little smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “So ya should be, sweetheart.”

Your face falls and you look down, studying the carpet, worried he hasn’t forgiven you and he might start torturing your clit again. Then you feel a finger under your chin as he tilts your face back up towards his.

“I forgive ya. Think ya took yer punishment.” He smirks then, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Not well, but ya took it. An’ now I gotta look after my lil dolly, haven’t I?”

You wiggle closer to him as he sits down next to you on the bed, your arms around his neck, pouting lips and big doe eyes.

“My pussy’s sore,” you whisper.

He laughs and slings his arm underneath your legs, picking you up so you’re sitting sideways on his lap.

“‘M not surprised, baby. Maybe next time ya won’t try ta take care a yerself without yer Daddy around, hm?”

You nod and he kisses you affectionately, first on the lips and then on the end of your nose, finally landing on a last gentle kiss to the forehead.

“That’s my dolly. Let’s go and check on this bath, sweetheart.”

You cling to him as he stands, holding you in his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. You can feel his pulse throbbing in his neck as your face presses against it.

“Love you, Daddy.”

He strokes your hair, then kisses you. “Love you too, darlin’. More ‘an anythin’. Now let's get ya nice an’ clean.”

***

Taglist:

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

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

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis presely smut #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

334 notes · View notes

kinascum · 8 months ago

Text

CHARMED ᯓ★

Austin Butler x Reader

wc: 1.7k | summary: y/n, an interviewer at Variety, scores an interview with Austin Butler. | nav - taglist

FLUFF. no major warnings.

You sit in the quiet of the Variety office, surrounded by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clack of a keyboard echoing through the open-plan space. Your heart beats a little faster than usual today as you prepare for the interview of a lifetime. The email with the subject line "Austin Butler Interview: Confirmed" still sits open on your screen, a stark reminder of the excitement and nerves you've been juggling since you read it. You've done this before, of course, but something about Austin feels different. Maybe it's the way his blue eyes seem to look right into your soul in every magazine cover, or the way his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine when you watch his interviews. You're a journalist with a knack for making even the most guarded celebrities open up, but you're not immune to the charm of Hollywood's golden boys.

The clock ticks closer to the scheduled time, and you stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your blouse and taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. You've spent hours researching his career, from his early days on the small screen to his breakthrough performance as the king of rock 'n' roll. You've rehearsed your questions, honed them to perfection, and now all that's left is to wait for the moment when he walks through the door.

When he does, it's like the air in the room shifts. He's taller than you expected, with a presence that seems to fill the space around him. He's dressed casually, but it looks like he stepped out of a magazine spread, his jeans fitting just right, and a leather jacket thrown over a simple white tee. His eyes scan the room, and when they land on you, you feel a jolt of energy. He smiles, a genuine, warm smile that reaches his eyes, and you can't help but return it, feeling a little bit like you're melting.

You extend a hand, and he takes it, his grip firm but gentle. His skin is warm, and for a second, you're lost in the sensation of his touch. "Y/N," he says, as if he's known you for years, not minutes. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." His voice is like a caress, and you blush, hoping it's not too obvious. You've always been a little shy around the people you admire, and the fact that he's looking at you with such kindness isn't helping your nerves.

As you lead him to the interview set, you notice the way his boots scuff the floor, the quiet confidence in his stride. He seems to be at ease in his own skin, a stark contrast to the flurry of activity around you. You offer him a seat and take yours opposite, placing your notebook and pen on the table. You've done this a hundred times before, but today, your hand trembles ever so slightly. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you thought you'd outgrown, and try to remember to breathe. The cameras start to roll, and you're aware of every little detail: the sound of the film crew moving around, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the background, the way the lights cast a gentle glow on Austin's face.

He leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "So," he begins, his voice like a purr. "What's the first question you've been dying to ask me?"

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat. You clear it, hoping he doesn't notice, and glance down at your notes. But as you look back up, you realize that the question you've so carefully prepared isn't what you want to ask anymore. There's something about the way he's looking at you, something that makes you feel seen in a way you never have before. And in that moment, you know that this interview is going to be unlike any other.

You take a deep breath and dive in, asking him about his preparation for his latest role, one that's earned him critical acclaim and a slew of award nominations. His eyes light up, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he thinks back to those intense days and nights spent becoming someone else. He speaks slowly, thoughtfully, his voice deep and resonant as he recounts the hours of research, the months of practice, the moments of doubt and triumph. You're captivated by his dedication, his passion for his craft shining through every word.

As you listen, you find yourself leaning in, hanging on to every syllable. His words paint a vivid picture of his journey, and you're drawn into the story as if you were there with him. You ask follow-up questions, eager to learn more, and he responds with the same thoughtfulness, never rushing, always choosing his words with care. His honesty is refreshing, and you can't help but admire the way he's handled the pressures of stardom with such grace.

But then his gaze starts lingering on you a beat too long, and when he smiles, it's a smile that says he's not just talking about the movie anymore, and suddenly, the air in the room feels charged with electricity. You blush, your cheeks grow warm, and you feel your heart race in your chest. Your hand fidgets with the pen, and you realize you're playing with your hair again, a nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in high school. But with Austin, you're feeling anything but professional.

He leans closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and asks you a question about your own work, your favorite stories, your dreams. And you find yourself opening up to him, sharing things you never thought you'd say out loud, let alone on camera. His voice is a gentle coax, drawing you out of your shell, making you feel as if you're the most interesting person in the world. And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe it.

The conversation flows like a river, twisting and turning through topics of art, life, and love. His stories are peppered with laughter, and you find yourself smiling more than you ever have in an interview. His hand reaches out, resting on the arm of your chair, and you feel the warmth of his touch seep through the fabric as he pulls your chair closer to his. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt through your body, making you aware of every inch of space between you as you catch a glimpse of how his muscles flex under the studio lights.

You notice the way his fingers tap against the chair, a subtle beat that matches the rhythm of your heart. His eyes, so blue and deep, seem to see right through you, and for a moment, you wonder if he can read your thoughts. You realize you're not just asking questions anymore; you're exchanging glances, sharing silent moments filled with understanding. The chemistry between you is palpable, and the crew seems to have melted into the background, leaving just the two of you in the spotlight.

The interview comes to a close, but the energy between you and Austin doesn't dissipate. As the crew starts to pack up, he lingers, his hand still resting on the arm of your chair. "Thank you," he says, his voice sincere. "That was one of the best interviews I've had in a long time." You blush, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was an honor."

He stands, and you follow suit, the space between you closing as you exchange pleasantries about the weather and the traffic. His eyes never leave yours, and you can't help but feel like there's something unspoken hanging in the air. He's charismatic, down-to-earth, and thoughtful—everything you've read about him, but seeing it up close is like experiencing the gravity of a star for the first time. His words come out measured and deliberate, each one chosen with care, as if he's afraid of saying too much or too little.

As you walk him out, the quiet of the office seems to amplify the sound of your shoes on the floor. The lights seem to dim, and the world outside the glass walls fades away. You find yourself lost in the depth of his gaze, the way his eyes seem to dance when he smiles. He pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees wobble. "Y/N," he says, and the way he says your name feels like a secret shared between the two of you. "Could I interest you in a drink? To celebrate a successful interview?" His words are followed by a cheeky grin as he addresses you in an overly formal manner.

You're surprised by the invitation, but something in his tone tells you that it's more than just a professional courtesy. You hesitate, your heart racing as you laugh nervously. You've never mixed business with pleasure before, but the way he's looking at you, the way his thumb brushes against the back of your hand as he holds the door open, makes you want to throw caution to the wind. You nod, trying to sound casual. "Sure, I'd love that."

The bar he chooses is dimly lit, the kind of place where whispers are the loudest sounds and secrets feel safe. He orders a whiskey neat, and you ask for a glass of wine. As you sit across from him, you can't help but notice the way the light plays with the shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He talks about his love for music, the way it's shaped him as a person and an actor, and you listen, enraptured. His passion is contagious, and you find yourself sharing stories from your own life, things you rarely speak of outside of your closest friends.

The conversation flows as easily as the alcohol, and you realize that you're not just talking about work anymore. You're laughing, sharing, connecting in a way you never have with an interview subject. His hand reaches across the table, and he takes yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. It's a simple touch, but it feels like a promise, a question, a door opening to something new.

A/N: kinda in a love-hate relationship with this one yall

tell me if yall want to be added to this masterlist's taglist !!🩶🩶🦫

440 notes · View notes

bartxnhood · 10 months ago

Text

escort at the oscars | a.b

austin butler x fem!actress!reader

summary: getting lost at the oscar’s wasn’t on your roster. neither was getting austin butlers attention.

warnings: definitely poor representation of the oscars but idc this is just for funsies !

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: omg hi everyone !!! long time no see i know, life has been insane. i know no one will read this but ive had some HUGE life changes. i graduated cosmetology school, officially a nail tech now, yay me !! also, unfortunately, ill be having a hand surgery soon. so, im hoping i can write more before i can’t 😭. thank you to everyone who still supports me even though im not ac active as i used to be. one day i promise ill update regularly !!

a/n2: also, austin in the new bikeriders movie had me in a chokehold. the austin butler renaissance is upon us, people !!! (he’s also my bday twin WOO) and i know austin didn’t win an oscar for elvis but for the sake of the fic he did in this !!

not proofread

requests open

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

since the red carpets were only carpets, you could have sworn they were easy to manage. the theater was only accessible by walking through a line, but that wasn't the case. after only thirty minutes, you had to make a big mistake by trying to use the restroom and ending up opening a broom closet.

“hey,” you heard a voice, and you quickly turned around only to find yourself facing austin. “the ceremony isn’t in the closet, darling.”

“right..” you whisper under your breath and close the door. you smile awkwardly turning on your heels and holding your clutch tightly.

“i was just uh..looking for the restroom but i couldn’t find it” you laugh, looking down and shaking your head, and begin walking away from the boom closet.

austin couldn’t help but chuckle, following behind you while holding his hand behind his back as he walked slowly for you to match his stride.

he could tell that you were an up-and-coming actress, something about the way you carried yourself gave it away, and he could also tell that this was your first time on a red carpet by the way you were clutching your clutch bag so firmly like your life depended on it.

“you look nervous,” he said softly, “it’s your first time on a red carpet, isn’t it?”

you smile sheepishly. “that obvious, huh?” you trail behind austin assuming he is taking you to the restrooms.

“never knew how big these places are” you laugh, holding up the end of your dress so it doesn’t drag.

austin could see how nervous you were by the way you were holding your dress up while you were walking, and he thought that it was adorable, honestly.

he chuckled as you mentioned how big the venue is because you weren’t wrong, it is pretty damn big. “ive been to a few oscars now and i still think the venue is too big,” he said with a laugh, as he walked by your side with that perfect movie star strut.

“which movie are you nominated for?”

you had never been to something like this, and you didn’t even have a premiere for your movie. but somehow, critics loved the movie and now your movie was nominated.

it felt like it happened overnight.

“blue moon” you answer, not expecting him to know it.

the movie was set in the second world war and your character was the spouse of one of the soldiers. after he died, your character joined the war.

it was an underground film, your first lead and you didn’t expect anyone to pick up the movie. but someone did, ended up being shown at a film festival and the critics fell in love with your performance. and that’s how you landed a nomination for best lead actress.

austin’s eyes widened as you mentioned the movie you’re up for, blue moon; he enjoyed that movie, and as he thought about it more he really couldn’t deny that you were fantastic in it.

“no way,” he said in disbelief, “no wonder you’re nominated for best actress, you were incredible in that film.”

“thank you” you nod, noticing you have finally made it to the restrooms.

“and thank you for showing me the way” you chuckle, dropping the train of your dress then stuffing your clutch under your arm and sticking out your hand.

austin takes your hand with a gentle yet firm grip and smiles, nodding. “no problem, glad i could be of help.”

“i’m y/n l/n” you introduced. “it was nice to meet you, austin. thanks for this” you grin, retracting your hand.

“i guess ill catch you later..”

“it was a pleasure to meet you, y/n,” he replied with a smile before watching you walk into the restroom, and he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the door as you disappeared behind it.

he thought you were pretty. very pretty, and he kind of regretted not asking you for your phone number before you disappeared.

so, austin stood there leaning against the wall deciding he would wait on you. just in case you got lost again.

no other reason.

after relieving yourself, you stand in front of the mirror taking in a couple of deep breaths to calm the pounding in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

you open your clutch, picking out a compact and a lipstick. you swipe the color on your lips to touch up the splotches, and quickly powder your face.

you put everything back in your clutch smoothed out your hair and admired your dress.

floor-length satin gown in your favorite color, a ribbed corset look.

“you can do this, y/n/n..” you whisper to yourself then pick up the train of your dress and exit the restroom, hoping you won’t miss the award ceremony.

austin was now pacing in front of the restroom, waiting for you to exit, his eyes fixated on the door, and he found himself running a hand through his styled hair, ruining the gelled look.

he wasn’t sure what had compelled him to wait for you, but here he was, still waiting outside the restroom, tapping his foot anxiously and checking his watch now and then.

austin leaned back against the wall as he waited, trying to look nonchalant as ever, and once the restroom door opened, a soft exhale left his lips.

you let the door shut behind you while smoothing out the front of your dress and began walking down the hallway until you stopped seeing a figure.

you look up from the floor and spot austin, assuming he is waiting for you.

“austin?” you ask softly, taking in a deep breath.

austin’s eyes softened at the sound of his name, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you once he saw you walking towards him, smoothing out the front of your dress and making sure it was wrinkle-free and free of any stains.

“hey,” he replied with a smile and nod, “i was just, uh, making sure you didn’t get lost, again.” austin laughed, looking at you through his eyebrows.

you couldn’t help but chuckle, “no worries, restrooms are pretty simple,” you reply with a toothy grin.

“but, if you wouldn’t mind showing me the way to the theater?” you ask, knowing if you didn’t have the guidance you’d definitely get lost and miss the entire ceremony.

and you didn’t need that kind of embarrassment.

though, deep down you know you wouldn’t win tonight, but still, you wanted to experience being at the freaking oscars!

austin smiled at how eager you were to not get lost again. he chuckled softly as you asked him to guide you to the theater, and he pushed himself off the wall, taking one last look at his watch before walking closer to you.

“and here i was, thinking you’d never ask,” he joked, before holding out his arm for you to grab and wrap your own around.

“don’t wanna risk you ending up in the broom closet again,” he teased.

you drop your head, smiling, and then laugh at his comment about getting lost in the broom closet.

“listen..” you say softly, covering your face with the clutch. “i would say it was one mistake, but with my luck, it’s bound to happen again.”

you carefully take his arm and begin walking towards the theater. you can feel your cheeks warming up.

here you are, lost at the oscar’s and now having the austin butler escort you into the theater.

when you attempted to cover your face with your clutch, he rolled his eyes and gently grabbed it, pulling it away from your face. “no hiding.” he teased.

as you walked side by side, down the halls and towards the theater, austin couldn’t help himself but glance over at you now and then.

he smiled when you laughed at his joke and chuckled even more as you attempted to defend yourself. “just one? you’re sure about that?”

you smile, looking ahead. not being able to look him in the eyes. “no..” you laugh.

“on my first day of filming, i got lost and accidentally locked myself in the hair and makeup trailer” you giggle, recalling one of the most embarrassing moments that’s happened to you. though, this one trumps that.

“no way..” you hear austin laugh wholeheartedly, a sound so beautiful it could turn your legs into jelly.

“yes way” you laugh back, nodding. you weren’t paying attention and almost tripped over the end of your dress.

“here, let me help you with that” austin offers, picking up the train of your dress so you can walk more comfortably.

“see? clumsy.”

austin grins, holding the satin fabric in his hands as you continue towards the theater. “we all have our quirks” he adds. “you’ll warm up to this life, it’ll become easier and if it doesn’t, i’ll help you navigate this journey.” austin spoke without really thinking.

you finally see the two large golden doors which lead into the theater. “ready?” austin grins, raising his eyebrows before opening the door.

when the door opens you’re hit with a soft wind of cool air, the sound of people chattering, and the camera crew getting ready to go live.

“well, let’s hope i can find my seat with ease..” you say walking down the aisle with him towards the seconds for the nominees. “i’ll help,” austin says and begins scanning the row of seats for your name.

y/n l/n

“here you are.” he points to your name plastered on the back of the seat. “right next to mine” he leads you to the two end aisle seats on the front row. your crew sat behind you and austin’s was right next to him.

you were shocked, walking to your seat and letting go of his arm. austin drops the end of your dress gracefully, making sure it doesn’t get dirty.

“what a coincidence, huh?” you take your seat, crossing your legs and placing your clutch in your lap.

austin had what you’d call a shit-eating grin on his face as he sat next to you. “coincidence? or the universe giving us a sign?”

he could tell you were feeling out of place, but he silently tried to make you feel more comfortable by flashing you a reassuring smile.

you shrug, smiling as the staff prepares to go on air. you take in a deep breath, calming your racing heart as you watch the host enter the stage.

“good luck tonight.” austin leans in, whispering. you turn to face him, “you too”. austin winks and then focuses his attention on the stage as the lights dim.

you follow suit, the ceremony officially begins.

a short video montage of all the movies nominated begins to play, and for a second you see yourself.

wow.

after the video, the lights come back on, and out steps the host.

“hello, and welcome to the ninety-sixth oscars, everyone! look at these beautiful faces!”

the room explodes into applause and cheers from the guests.

there’s more to the introduction, bad jokes, awkward laughter, and overall a very, very, long introduction before getting into the awards.

tonight was going to be very long.

“and the nominees for the best lead actor” the host announces, letting a brief video play of all the nominees and their movies.

some actors you knew well, others you didn’t.

“and the oscar goes to..” the host drawls, opening the envelope and a smile appears on her face.

“austin butler!”

the crowd erupts into a roar of cheers and applause, people standing up all around, yourself included. austin stands up hugging his team around him and his friends. he turns to you, smiling as if he won the lottery. “congrats!” you pat his shoulder as he walks past you on stage to accept the award.

“wow..” his deep voice rang through the microphone, looking at the audience and fellow nominees. “i’d uh..wow..all my words are leaving me…i’m standing in front of my heroes. i’m so incredibly grateful to be standing here, i just wanted to say thank you to my team, all the producers, writers, directors, costume, and makeup. everyone. and the presley family for guiding me through this whole process. thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart. and lastly, thank you to all the new people i’ve met” he looks towards you. “i’m so grateful to be standing here. thank you.” he blows a kiss to the crowd before disappearing backstage.

the rest of the male categories went on in between intermissions. many of your favorite actors won, and movies.

then, before you knew it, the female categories were beginning. you saw austin returning to his seat before the nominees were announced.

“now, let’s take a look at the nominees for best female lead role…” the host begins.

like the male category, there are videos of each nominee and then you’re face pops up in a small montage of your movie with your name announced.

austin looked over at you when your face appeared on the big screen, he saw that look in your eyes. he couldn’t describe it. awe? no, it was something more than that. something he had never seen from any of the people he worked with. he had been to many events like this, but you…something about you.

“and the oscar for best female lead role goes too..”

anticipation.

so many great and talented women in this category, that you feel honored to even be considered as good as them.

what if you didn’t win?

but what if you did win? you didn’t even think you prepare an acceptance speech because there is absolutely no way someone like you could-

“y/n l/n! congratulations!”

the world stopped, people around you standing up and applauding. you.

you sat there, mouth agape staring at the stage with your face on the screens like an idiot. your crew grabbing your shoulders to congratulate you as you stand up. hugging some of your crew, then looking at austin wide-eyed. he’s smiling at you, saying something like “i knew you’d win” but you couldn’t be sure, you were in shock.

you begin towards the stage, austin trailing behind you holding your dress so you won’t trip. if there’s one thing austin learned about you tonight, you were clumsy.

you look back, thanking austin with your eyes approach the host, and accept the award.

“oh man..” you begin, feeling tears prickling your eyes. a quiet laugh escapes your throat, looking down at the golden award and then back to the crowd. “i didn’t have a speech prepared, i didn’t expect to win at all. but i wanted to thank everyone who worked on the set of this movie. thank you to the director who saw my indie films and thought i had the talent to portray my character. thank you to my team who always supported me. thank you to my family who always believed in me..who pushed me to work harder..” you sniffle, lip quivering.

“thank you. thank you so much.” you cry. “and thank you to austin, who helped me when i got lost, otherwise i would’ve missed the best moment in my life”. you look towards austin, your teary eyes glittering underneath the lights. the crowd laughs at this, finding it humorous.

austin smiled as he listened to your heartfelt acceptance speech. he couldn’t help but feel proud of you, watching the way you held the award in your hands and thanked everyone who had helped you along the way.

his heart skipped a beat when you mentioned him in your speech. he chuckled softly as the crowd laughed when you joked about getting lost, and he felt a warmth spread through him as he heard you express your gratitude towards him.

“and to all my fellow nominees, i can’t believe im standing in front of you. i’m so honored to be here with you tonight. and i realize i am rambling so i will accept this and go” you laugh, waving to your crew and exiting the stage.

as you walked off the stage, austin stood up and applauded once again, clapping louder than ever before.

the rest of the night continued without fail, the whole thing continued for about three and a half hours. you knew it was going to be long, but you don’t think you’d ever get used to it.

the ceremony ended, leading you and the other winners backstage to get pictures and interviews.

you stand with your friends, who also are a part of your crew. you’re still absolutely shocked. crying on and off as they congratulate you on one of the biggest achievements of your career.

you weren’t aware of austin approaching you until you felt a hand on your lower back. you look over your shoulder and see his baby blues. “austin!” you grin, turning your body toward him. “hi, darling. congratulations.” he says, gesturing to the award in your hand.

“thank you” you bring the award up to your face, grinning like a proud parent. “and congrats to you”

austin nods, looking down at his award. “looks like we both got pretty lucky, huh?”

you nod, agreeing. “i guess so..” you say softly.

you see austin’s eyebrow raise, his eyes dancing over your figure against the wall. you couldn’t quite place what he was thinking. he could be thinking many things, but you wouldn’t know. he was too hard to read, for you at least.

“say, uh..” he smirks, biting his lip. “how would you feel if i asked for your number?” his extra arm came up to the wall beside your head, entrapping you.

oh boy.

you hold the award close to your chest, looking up at him. “well, i’d feel like i’d be dreaming but im not going to say no.” you answer.

“good because i don’t know what id do if you said no” he chuckles, his eyes not leaving yours.

“i’ll call you, we’ll go out sometime. i wanna know more of you. if it’s anything like i saw tonight, i think i might fall in love with you.”

you can feel your ears burning as he speaks, his raspy voice making your legs feel weak. his eyes looking down on you, god. he was driving you insane. his slightly gelled hair, his grey suit, his cologne.

he was so close.

“then i guess you should be ready for that,” you say, smirking.

you heard your name being called, your manager trying to get you for an interview.

you push yourself off the wall, but before you leave you pause. “call me.” you wink and then walk away, leaving austin’s world rocked. never had he met someone like you, never has he been this intrigued and captivated by someone.

thank god he found you when he did.

#bartxnhood asks #bartxnhood writes #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fan fiction #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #elvis presley x reader

689 notes · View notes

lustnhim · 9 months ago

Text

manspreading 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

inspired by a post i saw on tiktok. i just climb right between them and lay down on his thighs :( ugh, cute baby.

802 notes · View notes

twobitsblade · 1 month ago

Note

Hi!!! I saw your poll and I was wondering if you could write a 60s!Elvis X Reader fic, where Reader is having a hard time at work because they can't seem to keep up with everything and Elvis finds them crying outside their work place? Comforting them and asking why they can't just let him take care of them?

Take all the time you need!❤️

(hello, thank you so much for requesting this! it was slightly difficult to write since this is my first time writing smut, but i hope you all enjoy it. i’d love to see more requests featuring elvis in my inbox!)

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ MY HEART BELONGS TO DADDY !

a work of fiction written by @twobitsblade and inspired by @atleastpleasetelephone, @jhoneybees, @wanderingelvis, @lustnhim, and @theelvisprincess !

contains: smut (obviously), reader and elvis are married, elvis is a cocky know-it-all with hints of the 1960s male mindset !

you and elvis had been together for a while now; around three years of loving, fighting, and arguing, but you knew that at the end of the day he’d always be there for you. and you knew that even when you took up a new job at your aunt’s boutique—something which elvis discouraged multiple times (“oh m’baby, you ain’t needuh do these stupid ol’ jobs, m’the one providin’”)—while you were very thankful for him, your aunt desperately needed your help, and who were you to turn her down?

but it turns out that perhaps elvis was right—this job began to be a lot more than you’d signed up for. originally, the deal was you’d wear a cute dress, get your hair done all nice (for free, mind you), and greet the customers, but then more and more duties started being asked of you.

“oh dear, can you go bring the boxes from the basement?” “can you go downtown and pick up some new hair dyes? we’re all out, and the shipment won’t be on time?” “can you give her a little trim? it’s not too complicated.”

while you don’t like to think of yourself as spoilt, you’re not very used to working these types of jobs. i mean, you and elvis have been together for years, and you’d gotten used to the comfy lifestyle he provided you.

one day, it just became too much—you were turning around like a dog, fulfilling one task after the other, and it didn’t help that you barely slept last night. it’s not like you could tell elvis about this because it’d prove him right, and you can’t handle that damn cocky smirk on his face as he tells you how he knows his little one wasn’t made for such hard work.

you sigh, placing your things down—the sound a bit louder than intended, causing you to flinch. you toss off your high heels, lazily running up the stairs of graceland and into the bedroom you and elvis shared—grand, beautiful, and decorated by both of you as a visual representation of your love for the other—but now all it felt was suffocating.

you plopped down on the bed, not bothering to change out of your outdoor clothes, and laid your head facing the ceiling when suddenly you heard rustling and groaning, causing you to turn your head as you saw the back of elvis’s head. he slowly turns around to face you, clearly still half asleep.

“mmm, hey m’baby, how’s work?” he says drowsily, grabbing you by the collar of your dress and pulling you close, wrapping his leg around your waist.

“it was fine, el—fine as usual,” you say, though he wasn’t stupid; even half asleep, he could tell. he groaned, rubbed his eyes, and sat up.

he looked you up and down before smirking—god damn it—“well, what’s the matter, huh, little ’un?” you rolled your eyes and weakly shoved him, the shove barely moving him.

“i said it was nothing, didn’t i?” you groaned, but he doesn’t care.

“ah, f’god’s sakes, just let me take care of my babygirl…” he groaned, grabbing you and laying you on top of him. you tried to pull away to no avail, causing you to let out a mewl which made him chuckle—everything about him was irritating you in that moment: his baby blue eyes, his tan skin, his perfectly, oh so disgustingly perfect smile, and the softness with which he looked at you, his girl. you sighed, resting your head on his chest and stifling a sob, and he noticed, tangling his fingers in your hair, “shh, m’girl, tell daddy what happened.” you did, and even though it all came out as incomprehensible high-pitched, whiny rambles, he nodded as though he understood you—not just your words, but the language of your soul.

you eventually felt content, done venting. you sighed, wiped your tears, and looked up at him, and suddenly you chuckled. it wasn’t quite wry but not quite from happiness; you felt good—elvis always had a way of making you feel good.

and in your exhausted state, you needed him, needed him badly, and he could see that; after all, he knew you inside and out. his hand went down to your back, then to your hip, then to your butt, then to your thigh, causing you to feel slight tingles coursing through you—you hated that, you hated how easily he could get you in such a vulnerable state.

“baby, come on, you need to open up for me. how else can i keep you safe, huh, lil ’un?”—ah, the typical elvis double entendre.

you nodded slowly, turning around on his lap so he could unzip your dress, the slight friction causing him to groan, “fuckin’ tease, you are…” he said, unzipping your dress slowly but surely, “ah, m’girls wearin’ somethin’ fancy, hmm?” he said, observing your baby pink bra with lace detailing. your face heated up at his words as you expected him to unbuckle your bra, but he didn’t.

he linked his fingers underneath the clasp and pulled you backwards so that your back rested on his chest, as his hands, in a painfully slow manner, slid down from your cleavage to your ribs, to your belly, down to your pelvic bone, and under your skirt—and you arched into him, causing a giggle to escape him. “hmm, needy, ain’t ya?” he said, his fingers rubbing circles on your clothed cunt as you squirmed into his touch. he slipped one finger underneath the fabric and then inside you, causing you to let out a loud, high-pitched moan—and god knows he wasn’t going to be the one to silence those sounds—then another finger, then a third and final one, as he slowly began pumping them in and out of you. you lost yourself in his touch; incomprehensible words mixed with moans left your mouth drowned by his groans—the sounds almost pornographic.

he pulled his fingers out and wiped them on your dress, causing you to whine at the sudden emptiness you felt and at the vulgarity of the action.

he rolled around so that you were now under him, and a surge of excitement crossed you.

he removed his pants, then his boxers, his erect cock springing out from them. he grinned, “y’ready m’baby?” you nodded, preparing yourself as he aligned his tip with your entrance, your wetness working as the perfect lube, and slowly—painfully slowly—he entered you, moans leaving your mouth as your mind became dazed, hungry for the man you loved so much.

slowly, he began thrusting in and out repeatedly, causing you to let out a strange sound—a mix of a scream and a yowl—with his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh of your hips. “mm, take it for me like a good little girl.” you nodded, continuing, and as you felt your climax approaching, he nodded, a silent signal that you could release yourself, and so you did—all over him—and soon after, he followed.

you both plopped down onto the bed with a sigh. he looked at your tired frame with admiration, the sweat glistening off your body and making you look like an angel. he hugged you slowly, “m’girl, you gotta be honest with me; i’m always gonna be takin’ care of you, aight?” you nodded, letting out a gentle mix between a whimper and a sigh as his body embraced yours.

200 notes · View notes

youaintnothinbuta · 8 months ago

Note

Could you do an Elvis x reader where the reader likes another person that is sat at a table with them and she thinks she is playing footsie with said person but finds out it’s actually Elvis and they end up going out together instead of her and the other guy.

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that all night” — Elvis x reader

Summary: Out at dinner with some friends, Elvis manages to skew your attention away from the boy you were originally interested in, and he and you seperate from the group, going to catch a picture just the two of you :)

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warnings: none, fluff!! There may be typos sorry in advance <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The small restaurant was alive with conversation, the clinking of silverware against plates, and the low hum of laughter that seemed to fill every corner of the room. You were seated at a round table, large enough to fit everyone comfortably but small enough to keep the group feeling close-knit. The soft glow from the overhead lights made everything feel warm and intimate, setting the mood nicely for a meal with friends.

You strategically sat yourself across from Danny, the boy you were a bit keen on. His sandy hair caught the light every time he turned his head. You’d noticed him before, casually, in the way that someone stands out in a crowd. You weren’t too familiar with him yet, nor many of the guys. As you sat across from him though, you couldn’t help but feel a subtle pull, your eyes finding his more than once as the night wore on. Your best girlfriend sat beside you, keeping you well entertained, but your focus kept drifting back to Danny, catching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

Seated directly beside Danny, was Elvis Presley—a name that was beginning to mean something to people outside of your little group. You’d heard him sing a few times, and he’d always been part of these gatherings, but you didn’t find him to be anything special. Or so you thought.

Finally, food was beginning to be brought out, and you felt a nudge against your foot under the table. It was subtle, barely there, but it caught your attention. You glanced up, and your eyes met Danny's for a brief moment. A small smile tugged at your lips as you assumed it was his way of testing the waters.

You responded in kind, nudging back, your foot brushing against his ankle. A little thrill ran through you—innocent, playful, nothing too serious, but enough to make your heart flutter a little.

Again, you pressed, seeing if he’d play back. You felt his hand catch your ankle, the warmth of it startling you for a split second before he began to draw soft, teasing traces over your skin. Your breath hitched, almost gasping at how intimate it felt. You quickly looked up at Danny, expecting to see a smirk, a hint of recognition in his eyes. But instead, you watched him bring both hands to the table, fiddling with one of the rings on his fingers. Confusion clouded your head. Danny's hands were both clearly visible as he listened to someone's story.

You felt your stomach do a small flip as your gaze slid sideways, to the person sitting right next to Danny.

Elvis.

He was lounging back in his chair, his eyes half-lidded as he listened to the conversation, his expression unreadable, with one hand resting on his lap. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. But then, as if sensing your gaze, he looked over at you, his eyes locking with yours.

Realisation hit you slowly. It wasn’t Danny at all. It was Elvis. And with that realisation came another—maybe, just maybe, you liked it better this way.

He watched you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that made your cheeks burn. There was something in his eyes, something that told you he knew exactly what was going on. He broke contact with your skin, bringing both of his hands back to visibility.

As you sat there, trying to compose yourself, one of your girlfriends turned and gave you a concerned look. She’d always been good at picking up on your moods, and tonight was no exception. With a gentle hand, she pressed the back of her fingers against your cheek, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked, her tone laced with worry. “You’re burning up.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden attention. “No, no, I’m fine,” you stammered, trying to wave off her concern. Elvis’ was watching you still, and he seemed rather amused at the way he was flustering you.

Your friend wasn’t convinced. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smile as she eyed you. “Come on,” she said, her voice taking on a more playful tone. “Let me fix ya up.”

Before you could protest, she took your hand and gently pulled you up from your chair.

Elvis was leaning back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with merriment. There was a smirk playing on his lips, a look that told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

She guided you down a narrow hallway, past the hum of the restaurant’s main room, until the two of you reached the small, dimly lit bathroom.

Once inside, she turned to you with a mischievous grin, shutting the door behind her. “Alright,” she said, her tone light and teasing. “Let’s see what’s going on with you. You’re all flushed.”

You tried to play it off, shrugging and giving her a sheepish smile. “I guess it’s just a bit warm in there,” you said, but you knew she wasn’t buying it. She always had a knack for seeing right through you.

“Mhm,” she hummed, reaching into her purse and pulling out a compact and a powder brush. “Or maybe it’s something else entirely?” she teased, giving you a knowing look as she dabbed the brush into the powder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, though the words felt weak even as you said them.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she gently powdered your face, freshening up your makeup.

“There,” she said finally, stepping back to admire her work. “Good as new.”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, noting how much calmer you looked, at least on the outside. Inside, though, you were still reeling slightly.

“Thanks,” you said, giving her a grateful smile.

“Anytime,” she said, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur, your focus shifting entirely. Every time you glanced up, you found Elvis’ eyes on you, a silent conversation passing between you that no one else was privy to. By the time desserts came around, you were no longer thinking about Danny at all.

Everyone began to finish up and gather their things, making plans for what to do next. The group was splitting up, some heading out to another spot, others calling it a night. You were about to say your goodbyes when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Need a ride home?” Elvis asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure. But then you nodded, your decision made. “Yeah, that'd be great.”

He nodded goodbye to the other boys, holding the door open for you. The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside. It cleared your head. You glanced up at Elvis, who was walking beside you with an easy confidence.

He walked you over to a pink Cadillac. The interior was white, the whole thing looked brand new. You couldn’t quite believe it was his. Perhaps this whole music gig was more serious than you originally thought. He opened the passenger door for you, before he climbed in beside you, his presence warming the space as he started the engine.

The drive was quiet at first, with only the hum of the car and the soft sounds of the city filling the background. You glanced over at him, trying to gauge his thoughts, but his expression was relaxed, almost unreadable. After a few minutes, you realized you weren’t quite ready for the night to end.

“Elvis?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He glanced over at you, his eyes warm and attentive. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, a little nervous to suggest anything else. “What time is it?”

Elvis flicked his wrist slightly, checking his watch. “Just past nine,” he replied.

“It’s still early,” you said, the words coming out before you could think better of them.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he nodded, understanding your hint. “You wanna do somethin’ else?” he asked, his tone playful.

You nodded shyly, “Yeah.”

He grinned, turning the car onto a new street. “How ’bout the drive-in? There’s probably another picture showing soon. We could catch that.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you spoke, “sounds perfect.”

The drive to the drive-in didn’t take long, just, just a few miles out of town. When you pulled up, the large screen was already glowing with the start of a movie, and rows of cars were parked in front of it, people getting cosy or sitting on the hoods of their cars to watch.

Elvis found a spot toward the back, away from the crowd, giving you both a little privacy. He turned off the engine, and you settled into your seat as the movie played on the screen in front of you. The cool breeze brushed over you, and you felt a comfortable closeness to him that hadn’t been there before.

You both watched the screen in silence for a while, the dialogue and music filling the air. But as the minutes passed, you felt his arm slide along the back of the seat behind your head, his fingers lightly brushing your shoulder. Your breath hitched, and when you glanced at him, he was already looking at you, his eyes soft and searching.

Without a word, you shifted closer to him, your body naturally leaning into his warmth. He welcomed you into his embrace, his arm wrapping around you more securely as you rested your head against his chest. It was an innocent enough move, but it sent your heart racing all the same.

The movie played on, but you were barely paying attention now. Instead, you focused on the steady beat of his heart under your ear, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. You felt safe, content, but there was also that undeniable spark of attraction.

At one point, he shifted slightly, his hand coming up to gently tilt your chin up so you could meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, but there was a softness there too, something tender that made your chest tighten.

“You comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as his thumb traced soft circles on your upper arm.

You smiled, nodding, too nervous to speak.

His lips quirked up into a small smile, and he nodded. “Good.”

There was something in his eyes, something unspoken that made your breath catch.

“Elvis…” you started.

Then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing lightly over yours in a tentative, testing kiss. It was soft, almost hesitant.

You responded without thinking, your hand coming up to rest on his chest as you kissed him back, a little more firmly this time. He made a soft sound of approval in the back of his throat, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek as he deepened the kiss, his thumb gently brushing against your skin.

It was slow, sweet, but there was a heat beneath it, a promise of something more. When you finally pulled back, you could see the desire in his eyes, you were sure he could see it in yours too.

“I’ve been wantin’ to do that all night,” he admitted, his voice hushed.

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. “So have I.”

The rest of the movie passed rather quickly, your focus entirely on him, the way his fingers intertwined with yours, the way he would occasionally press a soft kiss to your temple or the top of your head.

When the credits finally rolled, Elvis glanced over at you. “Guess I should get you home now, huh?”

You nodded, though part of you wished the night didn’t have to end. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He smiled, but there was a hint of reluctance in it. “Don’t worry, darlin’. This won’t be the last time.”

You nodded sheepishly. He gave you one last lingering look before turning the key in the ignition. The drive back to your place was quieter, both of you lost in your thoughts, but there was a new warmth between you now, a connection that hadn’t been there before.

When he pulled up to your house, he parked the car and turned to you, his eyes searching your face. “I had a good time tonight,” he said, his voice sincere.

You smiled, feeling the same. “Me too, Elvis.”

He walked you to your front door. As you stood on the porch, you hesitated for a moment, not really wanting to go inside.

He leaned down, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Elvis,” you whispered back.

As you slipped inside your house, closing the door behind you, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, not for the rest of the night.

253 notes · View notes

lillyrob · 9 days ago

Text

How I feel asking for a Pt 2 😔

812 notes · View notes

allbark-no-bite · 1 year ago

Text

which lover will i get today.

elvis presley x reader (wc: 1.2 k)

summary: there were two sides to elvis presley, and you never knew which one you were going to get

warnings: toxic relationship, implied age gap (just mentioned that reader is younger)

authors note: after watching saltburn and priscilla, i can say that i’ve been converted to a jacob elordi fan. he’s a ridiculously tall freak of a man and i love him.

————————————————————————

You see him before he sees you, striding in through the front door of Graceland on those goddamn long legs that carry him twice as fast to the bottom of the stairs.

"Where's my girl?" he barks out, you being the first thing that has his attention about as soon as he enters the house. He stops at the first step, allowing you to meet him a few steps up from the bottom. For once you're just about the same height.

"Hello." You greet him, your voice quiet. It's timid, almost like you're uncertain of whether or not he's even remembered you, like maybe you've just dreamed this whole thing up and he's not really madly in love with you.

At your quietness, his aura changes, and he dims himself a little just for you. As if reminding himself that you're not one of his cousins or the Mafia. You're his girl, his Satnin. His expression becomes more pleased than exuberant, his smile faintly subdued.

"Hello," he says softly, copying your greeting with an air of teasing. Because it's so preciously innocent. Because hello is such a laughable greeting after not seeing each other for months. Because it's absurd how much he adores you.

"Hello," he then repeats, firmer this time. Because Hello, I missed you. Hello, where have you been all my life? Hello, I love you.

Elvis closes the distance between the two of you, one of his large hands pressing into your back to bring you into his chest, the other on your waist. His mouth finds yours, gentle and sweet, smiling privately into the kiss. Not really even kissing you properly because there will be plenty of more opportunities to kiss you in the future.

And he's just so charismatic that you don't even care.

But there were two sides to him.

And you never knew which one you were going to get.

That was the one thing that you kept having to remind yourself about him.

It was so easy to forget all of his faults when a majority of the time he was so utterly boyish. He still had to be reminded to pick up after himself, still had to be reprimanded for rough housing, still cried for his mama sometimes. He was fascinated by everything, and he had a new interest all of the time. First it was the books, then the guns, then the horses, then the sailing cap that he took to wearing at every opportunity.

The two of you had gone up to bed early, excusing yourself to a disgruntled Dodger back at the dinner table. You race up to Elvis' bedroom, both of you giggling like little kids as Elvis fumbles up the stairs after you.

Once inside his bedroom, you shriek when he catches you, his arms wrapping around you from behind. He lifts you off of your feet and hefts you onto the lavish spread of his bed, laughing all the while.

When you manage to sit up, brushing your hair from your face, Elvis is already turned back around, a camera in one hand and the previously mentioned captain's hat perched precariously a top his head. With the world at the tips of his fingers, everything was a game to him. He was always trying to find new ways to make life exciting, and if that meant playing dress up then he was all for it. Therefore his donning of the out of place hat came as no surprise to you.

What does surprise you is his tumbling onto the bed, and you have to duck to avoid his flailing limbs.

"C'mere," he laughs, one hand wrapping around your ankle and the other clutching the polaroid camera. He stands, dragging you towards him across the top of the bed until your hair is fanned out behind your head. Lifting the camera and squinting, he snaps a picture before you're kicking your foot from his grasp.

"Oh no you don't, lil' girl." You wheeze in laughter when he drops the camera and catches hold of your other leg, and you find yourself hanging upside down, your head just barely brushing the bed.

"O...o-kay! Okay!" You exclaim through the bubbles of laughter that escape your throat, trying and failing to hold down the bottom of your baby pink skirt. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, let me down!"

You tumble back onto the bed with a thunk when Elvis releases your feet from his grasp.

"You're a piece of work, Satnin. You know that?" he says with a huff, fixing the hat that had begun to fall from his head. It's to little avail because it falls off completely when you grab a pillow, swinging it at him before he can dodge it. A scoffing laugh erupts from him at your challenge, and he aimlessly shoves you away so that he can grab his own pillow.

Weak from laughing, you swing at him again, completely missing. Elvis lashes out with his pillow, and it barely catches you, giving you enough of a chance to wind up and swing at him again.

It's harder this time, as hard as a pillow can be, and you suppose it catches him off guard because the smile drops from his face and he shoves you back hard, so obviously not playing anymore. It doesn't hurt as much as it should, his hands on you, but maybe it's your own surprise that prevents you from feeling anything.

"Not so goddamn rough," he snaps, breathing hard.

You've heard him yell plenty before. At his cousins, the Colonel, his daddy, but never you. Especially not at you. It causes something sickening in the pit of your stomach that you don't like.

The shock has quickly evaporated and now you're left cowering at the end of his bed, hugging the pillow close to your chest. You don't know where they've come from but suddenly there are tears burning at your eyes. Embarrassed by his rebuke and angry at yourself for being upset, your voice cracks. "That's not fair. You can't play without winning."

"I don't wanna play with a goddamn man," he retorts, already removing himself from the bed. Elvis roughly tosses the pillow that he had been wielding onto the ground.

You see it then in his narrowed and glinting blue eyes. Not exactly anger but something else. Hurt, insecurity, fear. Then it's gone with the slam of the door.

You wait for the sound of his retreating footsteps down the stairs before you take in a shuddering breath, your chest feeling as if you hadn't been breathing the entire time, and quickly wipe at your eyes. It only made him angrier when you cried.

Certain that there's black eyeliner and mascara smeared under your eyes, you shakily stand up from the bed and go over to the bathroom mirror. There is. You look like a feral raccoon and immediately set to scrubbing it away. Once you've finished, your eyes are still glassy and your nose red, but at least you can't tell if your face is wet from the water or the tears.

The door opens behind you and then his hands are sliding around your middle, Elvis' towering figure a looming presence at your back. His head dips and his lips ghost your exposed shoulder, sponging soft, barely there kisses.

You close your eyes and you let him. This is as close to an apology that you’ll get.

It was just a moment. One moment of misjudgment. One single bad moment.

You’ll spend the rest of your life forgiving his bad moments.

#elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n #priscilla movie #priscilla 2023 #elvis x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi elvis

1K notes · View notes

wanderingelvis · 6 months ago

Text

just thinking about what elvis would be like with you if you had a stutter or a stammer.

he’d be so patient with you, not everyone is, they get easily frustrated and fed up that you can’t get your words out properly but not elvis. he lets you take your time and it’s almost even more intimidating that someone is waiting for you to finish speaking.

but he won’t just say encouraging words to you, he’ll gently trace soothing circles into the small of your back. kiss your knuckles after rubbing them with the pad of his thumb, playing with the loose strands of your hair as he tells you “s’okay honey, y’doin’ just fine baby.” when you look to him desperately for comfort and reassurance.

he knows your prone to shutting up altogether when the nerves get the better of you but he loves nothing more than coaxing those thoughts out of you.

you’ll feel your mouth go dry as you try to manage a coherent sentence, getting all worked up and upset when you can’t do it but he never makes you feel bad for it.

you’ll sniffle through tears as elvis lovingly holds your hands and speaks to you softly but firmly, telling you that, “now, there ain’t nothin’ you gotta be upset about baby, you’re tryin’ your best ain’t you darlin’? hm? now i’m real proud of ya, tryin’ y’best like that, there aint no need for those tears now princess.”

and then he’ll let you collapse into his big hold, his arms engulfing you as he presses tender kisses to the top of your head, letting you get settled again as he soothes you.

and even if he tries to encourage you to speak and finish your sentences, sometimes he knows that ain’t always going to be the best thing for you.

like when you’re in a boutique, buying all them pretty dresses that elvis just loves to put you in, and the shop lady shows you something just gorgeous, and all you can do is try to get your words out.

“tha-a-tha-th-“ it’s on the fourth stutter that your eyes go all glossy and panicked, seeking out the big n powerful man like you’re just some little lost puppy searching for her owner.

and so he’ll step in, taking a hold of your little hand in his big coarse one and turning to the shop lady to speak on your behalf. “thanks honey, that’s awful kind of you to show us this. looks like it might just be the one that this little one is gon’ wear tonight.” he says fondly, the shop lady and elvis both looking at you with patience and a smile for you to swallow the lump in your throat and nod — that’s all you can manage for now but it’s enough. and sure, sometimes you feel like you’re four years old and unable to do anything yourself, not even speak, and the frustration gets to you, and the fear.

when you first began to date elvis, you’d wait for him to snap at you, the same way your parents would for embarrassing them in front of others, but elvis doesn’t do that — the thought wouldn’t enter his head.

no, elvis instead crouches down, whisperin’ “such a good girl,” to you. “such a polite, good girl huh?” he practically coos, knowing it’s hard for you, knowing how hard it is for you to even try to speak sometimes.

so elvis reminds you that you’ve tried and that is what matters most.

and elvis is always proud of you for trying. it’s okay if you can’t get your words out, he knows you and he understands you. and you love him, oh how you love him and how he look after you and takes care of you.

sometimes the stuttering makes you insecure, that elvis will get just as fed up as the memphis mafia do, or colonel tom does, but he doesn’t and he won’t.

he loves every part of you. stutter or no stutter, you’re his and he loves you.

note; had a bad week with my stutter, failed a test in a course i'm taking as it was part speaking and couldn't manage it, got rlly upset and rlly hating myself for it, so i thought writing down a lil about how elvis would be with me would help.

masterlist is here

request an elvis imagine etc here, i always love new ideas

love u all ❤️‍🩹

442 notes · View notes

presley4president · 5 months ago

Text

He’s so cutesy 😗

282 notes · View notes

atleastpleasetelephone · 3 months ago

Note

Elvis who absolutely just loves eating readers pussy and fingering her and can't get enough and whines everytime he can't have it. Sorry if this isn't good it's my first request lol

A/N: I got another similar request so I've grouped these together. I thought 1950s E was best for this one.

Picture You

Pairing: 1950s!E x reader

Word count: 840

TWs: Public sex, Elvis is pussy-eating-obsessed, kind of exhibitionism, dirty photos, smut.

“Whaddya mean, no?” Elvis is looking at you with big, puppy dog eyes and his voice is particularly whiny.

“The opposite of yes, El.”

“But why?”

“Because we’re going out with my friends in five minutes, and I know you’re good, but you’re not that good.”

Elvis humphs. “‘S’not fair, honey.”

“It is too. You ate me out last night and this morning.”

“But y’look so pretty in this dress…” he weedles, fingering the fabric.

“You just wait until tonight,” you try to tell him, but suddenly he’s on his knees and pushing his head under your skirt. “ELVIS!” You squeal, backing away while his fingers do their best to get into your panties.

“Honey…” he pleads, following you on his knees, head still under your skirt.

You’re in the process of pushing his head away from your thighs when you both hear Gladys shouting up the stairs. Your friends have arrived.

***

You spend the day around Beale Street, drinking ice cream floats and listening to the live music in the bars there, since you turned 21 last week so now you’re allowed in. Elvis loves every minute of it, and insists that you come back after dinner to see when things really get wild. You nod and giggle, cuddling up to him in a corner for a while. Some time in the late afternoon the pair of you come across a photobooth. None of your other friends are interested, saying they’ll meet you back at A Schwab for more floats, so you get in together, laughing and giggling. As you fiddle with the settings, trying to make sure your chair is in the right place, Elvis has an idea. He gets down on his knees between your legs, pushing his head under your skirt again. You squeak.

“Elvis!” Your heart is beating quickly and you’re flushed. It might be a booth but it’s still kind of public. The curtain doesn’t quite touch the floor, for a start.

“Let me, honey. Wanna photo of that lovely face ya make when ya cum for me.”

You squeak again. “Elvis! People might see!”

“Cum quickly then.”

He pulls your panties to the side and starts to lick your clit furiously, feeling it harden under his tongue. You moan softly, looking down at the bulge his head has created under your skirt. The boy has a problem. You were the first girl he’d ever licked, down there, and it had gone from something that disgusted him to a full-on addiction in a matter of days. He wanted your pussy all the time, to lick and finger until he made you scream. You’d had sex once or twice, but this was his preferred method of getting you off, and it seemed to make him crazy too. More than once he’d cum in his pants, or against the mattress as he lay on the bed with his head between your legs. You kept trying to tell him to wear underpants so he’d stop ruining his slacks, but he wouldn’t listen.

His long middle finger slips inside you and curls to hit the perfect spot. You let out a shuddering moan and hit the button to take the photos. Sucking on your clit now, he slips another finger inside and pumps them quickly, knowing what will get you there. The camera flashes once, twice, and then you feel the tide of your orgasm wash over you and murmur his name. Two more flashes and he licks you through it, kitten licks to your sensitive clit that almost make you yelp.

“Come on!” Someone yells from outside. You freeze. There hadn’t been anyone else around when you’d come in, but now there must be a line.

You sit up and mumble something to Elvis about getting out, and he emerges from your skirt, hair ruffled and lips glossy with your arousal. He grins, sheepishly.

“Can’t wait to see the photos, baby,” he murmurs, as you try to get him to stand up so you can both leave. “Think I might haveta go home now though.”

Tugging on his wrist, you turn back to look at his face questioning. ‘Why, El?”

He giggles, pressing his lips to your ear as he follows you out of the photobooth.

“Made a mess in my pants.”

You blush as you pull him behind you, waiting outside for the photos to come out as the girls waiting tut and look at you like they know exactly what you’ve been getting up to in there.

“El! What did I tell you about wearing underpants?” You whisper, shame making your face even redder.

He wraps his arms around your waist, hiding his crotch from view. “Sorry, honey.”

“Won’t let you have it any more if you don’t wear some,” you tell him, as the photos drop into the slot.

He whines into your neck. “But honey, I need it.”

“Then get your mama to buy you some underpants,” you chide, picking the photos up and pushing them into your purse. “No underpants, no pussy.”

***

Taglist:

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

@arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy @presleyhearted @lvrdollep @nebulamorada @iloveelvis2 @18lkpeters

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis presely smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

291 notes · View notes