Did He Wore This?!

let's. let's woah with mama. i'll see myself out

I actually believed that at first, when I started to see them, tbh 😅

I think it'd be reeeaaalllyyy funny if like all the Elvis accounts were run by one person but absolutely no one knew

when reading smut and y/n says “daddy”

whatever mama if you support generative ai you can fuck right off huh-huh

Big Daddy Elvis

◇ Pairing: Big Daddy!Elvis Presley X girlfriend!Reader

◇ Warnings: fat tummy worship, smut, handjob, insecure E, hairy body (?), established relationships, age gap (they are both off age), love, glimpse of silly Elvis

◇ Summary: Elvis wants to be intimate with his girlfriend since it's been forever since their last time.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

His blue eyes kept moving from a part of his body to another as he stood bare in front of the mirror of the huge bathroom. He used to weight less, be less shamed of his own body and even more active in the bedroom.

It wasn't like he didn't have any woman, damn... on contrary, he still had plenty of them swirling around him like moths attracted to the light of a lamp.... But he didn't loved himself like he should had.

"Honey? Is everything okay in there?" The voice of his latest flame broke his trail of thoughts, making his heart beat faster in slight panic and shame

"Y-y-yeah, Satnin'..." his low voice cracked as soon as he replied, making him curse under his breath while rushing to grab something to cover himself up.

A gentle knock and Y/n's muffled voice made itself hear from the wooden door again

"You don't sound okay, love. Can I come in?" She asked weakly not wanting to upset him or scare him for some unknown reason.

The young woman had sadly noticed Elvis' mood in the past days and she didn't want to add more stress on his shoulders, she loved him too much that even the thought hurt her.

"No, wait for daddy on the bed, little one" Elvis asked harsher than he intended, his shaky hands moving under the water of the sink in an attempt to calm himself and refresh his face.

It's been too long since he made love to Y/n, he honestly couldn't wait anymore... he needed to swallow his discomfort caused by his changing body and seduce her as only he could do.

It took him longer than expected to finally find the courage to walk out of the hotel bathroom and step in their bedroom, where the young woman was hopefully still waiting for him.

"There you are, E. You feeling allright?" Y/n asked softly not looking up, too busy fixing the food she got them and check if everything was there on the cart.

His careful steps and the soft noises caused by his robe dragging on the floor made her looked up bit worried since she received no answer from the older man.

His hair were wet, plastered on his forehead and bit messy since he probably ran his hand through it. He was trying to keep a poker face on but his beautiful eyes clearly showed the discomfort and sadness that he was feeling.

Y/n gifted him a small smile, pretending she couldn't read through him, as he started to breath heavier, his hands grabbing into something to keep them from shaking as his chest rose up and down. He couldn't back away now... not when she was all dolled up for him.

"Love that lil' dress on you, Satnin'... makes me feel things every time you put it on for me" he murmured lowly, his accent getting thicker just like she liked it; there was still insecurity behind his sweet blue eyes but it slowly faded away as soon as he saw her surprised and flattered reaction at his comment.

"Y-y-ya know.. I-I just need a glimpse at that pretty face of yours... and I'm already all fired up—" he continued, gathering enough confidence to step closer to her and brush his big hands on her arms so to slowly remove her robe.

His cold rings made her shiver just as much as his intense lustfull gaze; it all happened in such little time but the young woman's body was already reacting at him like usual.

His hands wandered all over her, resting one back up on the back of her neck so that he could tilt her head as he liked before moving to the next step.

"So y-you know how you always say that you like... love my belly?" He corrected himself, his voice coming out weaker than he intended and his grip got bit tighter as he squeezed softly her nape.... not daring to take a glimpse at his fat tummy.

Damn, he needed to distract himself or he wouldn't be able to act like he had planned.

A slight pull and his lips were now on her warm neck, leaving wet kisses on her vulnerable throat and feeling her heartbeat which boosted a bit his ego since it was increasing due to the arousal

"Remember... what you like to do when we lay together on our bed..?" Elvis whispered, brushing his nose against her ear to inhale her scent, which never missed to turn him on. Her locks tickled his face, making him smile softly as past memories of their after sex came back to his mind.

As his hands started to roam and rub her flesh, taking a hold of it to knead with passion and lust, he allowed her to slowly unzip his tracksuit and reveal his chest covered by thick dark blonde hair, lower his fat tummy was peppered with softer ones which got thicker right under his belly button and disappeared in the waistband of his pants.

"You like... to squeeze it, hm...?" His voice got lower and raspier, his heartbeat quickened and his skillful but shaky fingers removed carefully her last pieces of clothing so that she was bare in front of his towering form

"...And then you like to... kiss it, right..?" Elvis continued earning a lustful moan from the younger woman, who was getting worked up by the mere view of his naked torso plus his voice and light touch.

The King was not different, he was getting more and more riled up at the reactions of his girl.

Lust was slowly eating him up, making him almost act as an animal in heath if it wasn't for the warm feeling of affection caused by her love filled gaze.

"A-And then... y-you like to... gently bite it, right..?" The statement came out more as a whimper followed by a shaky breath, since her well groomed hands reached for his sensitive skin... playing teasingly with his chest hair while gradually moving lower

"All over" she purred with a sensual smile, her soft lipstick stained lips brushing against his warm skin, leaving open mouth kisses till down to his waistband.

As the young woman kept getting lower, Elvis couldn't hold back anymore the satisfied smile as he spoke back in a half-raspy, half-normal voice.

His finger twitched slightly at the strong need to just push her pretty face where he needed her the most, so that he could receive some well deserved friction

"Oh, yes... yes, all over... baby" he hummed, allowing a low groan to escape him when Y/n lowered carefully his sweatpants, letting them fall down his thick hairy thighs to his ankles, thus freeing its length.

Her soft huff right on his warm skin made him twitch, his half-hard cock swinged free now that it wasn't held by his pants anymore... since he didn't put any underwear.

Y/n was about to grumble something, since his dick nearly slapped her across the face when she took care of his pants, but she quickly stopped as soon as she heard Elvis' contagious and hearthy laugh.

A small smile appeared on her face and she looked up, biting her bottom lip due to the perfect view she had now on her kneeled position. The young woman was close enough to be able to see perfectly the roundness of her boyfriend’s tummy and his blue gorgeous eyes tightly shut in anticipation.

The mood from amused and playful quickly switched back to one filled with need and desperation to feel any kind of touch.

"You're so beautiful, love" Y/n whispered softly against his flesh, gently nibbling at his belly while her hands finally got to work, pumping a couple of times his cock before moving his foreskin and reveal his pinkish tip which was already leaking of pre-cum.

It didn't happen often that Elvis allowed her to worship him, expecially after the weight gain, so she didn't waste any time partially in fear for him to back away... or even shy away from her.

"So, so, so fucking sexy" she moaned out the loved filled praise, letting his big hand grab her nape again and press her eager mouth more into his fat while never stopping to work on his cock after spitting on her hand to use it as lube.

Her right hand started to rub his tip as her other hand worked his length from the base till she saw his body tense after some minutes.

His groans and praises got louder and his hips bucked forward to make her fist hit harder his base as she tightened her grip a bit around his lenght. His breath got quicker and he finally allowed himself to take a look at his girl, admiring with a soft blush on his cheeks how she shamelessly nearly made out with his belly while never stopping to pleasure him till he finally released.

It didn't stop there, though, her hands worked on his softening cock slowly as to not overstimulate him but to guide him through the orgasm and her mouth kept kissing, licking and worshiping his belly as if there wasn't a tomorrow, not really caring about the dripping seed and the messiness of the act.

𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐬 𝐀 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

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tags: smut, rough sex, gentle sex (eventually), established relationship, angry!Elvis, early 1970s Elvis, kitchen counter sex, p in v sex, free use(?), light face slapping, dirty talk, light choking, aftercare, apologetic!Elvis, possessive!Elvis

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As always, smuts under the cut

Elvis slammed the front door of Graceland, his heavy boots stomping through the house like a thunderstorm. You barely had time to turn around from where you stood at the kitchen counter before he was there, towering over you, his blue eyes burning hot with frustration. “Damn Colonel’s got me runnin’ ‘round like a damn fool,” he growled, voice thick with his Southern drawl. “Bout near lost my temper at that bastard.”

You reached for him, but he caught your wrist, tugging you flush against him. “E—” you started, but the way his hands slid down to grip your hips stole the words from your lips.

“Need somethin’, baby,” he muttered, voice husky, lips ghosting over your jaw. “Need you.”

Your breath hitched as he lifted you onto the counter, fingers digging into your thighs as he stepped between them. His mouth was on yours, hungry and desperate, his body pressing you back against the cabinets. You barely had time to gasp before he was yanking at your dress, bunching the fabric up as his hips rolled against yours. “Gonna make me forget all about that bastard,” he murmured, breath hot against your skin. “Ain’t that right, honey?”

Your heart raced as Elvis pulled you closer, his hands rough but comforting as he undid the buttons of your dress with a fierce urgency. The heat of his anger still simmered in the air, but you could feel his need to release it, to lose himself in you, in the only thing that ever seemed to calm him down. “Elvis…” you whispered, breathless as his lips traced your neck, pressing bruising kisses against your sensitive skin.

“You’re all I need, baby,” he growled, his hands now slipping under the lace of your panties, dragging them down roughly. “Gonna make you feel so damn good you forget all my troubles.” Before you could respond, his lips crashed back to yours, silencing the rest of your words. He gripped your waist tighter, lifting you slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes flashing with a hunger that matched the rage still bubbling in him.

You could feel him push his head cock inside with a rough thrust, causing a gasp to leave your lips. His pace was frantic, his breath ragged as he fucked you with a desperate intensity, needing to forget everything but you. “Don’t hold back, baby,” he growled between gritted teeth. "lemme hear ya."

Elvis’ frustration was palpable, his words coming in harsh bursts between ragged breaths. “Damn Colonel,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening around your hips. “Always got me runnin’ around for him, makin’ me feel like a damn puppet on a string…”

His thrusts grew more erratic, his hips slamming into yours with an intensity that bordered on painful. But you didn’t mind. The sting mixed with the pleasure, and you were more than happy to take it. His anger fueled him, his frustration sharpening his movements as he gritted out more complaints about the Colonel, his words biting as much as his actions. “He thinks he owns me,” he seethed, his pace quickening as his fingers dug into your flesh. “Thinkin’ I’ll jus' do whatever he says… but I ain’t some damn tool for him to use. I’ve had enough…”

His thrusts became harder, rougher, almost mean, but you found yourself moaning louder with every snap of his hips. The sting in your body only made you crave more, and the way he was losing himself in you, letting go of everything that had been eating at him, turned you on even more. “God, you feel so damn good,” he growled, voice low and strained, his anger now mixed with the raw need for you.

You could barely form coherent thoughts, your mind spiraling as Elvis continued to fuck you with a raw, relentless energy. The sound of his hips meeting yours was loud in the room, echoing off the walls as you clung to him, every nerve in your body alight.

"God, Elvis… please… don’t stop…” You babbled, breathless, your words a tangled mess. You could barely hold yourself together as his hands gripped you tighter, pulling you closer with each hard thrust.

His lips ghosted over your neck, his teeth scraping lightly over your skin, the sensation sending waves of heat straight to your core. You whimpered, barely able to keep up with his pace. “Please, baby, I can’t… can’t take it, it’s so—”

“Shut up,” he growled, his voice a mix of anger and something darker. He snapped his hips harder, pushing you further up the counter as if trying to bury himself deeper inside you. “You want me to stop, honey? Huh? You want me to stop?”

You shook your head violently, the words tumbling out faster now, completely incoherent. “No, no, no—please don’t… I need you—so good, so—" He slammed his dick into your cunt again, a harsh thrust that made you cry out, your body shaking, your babbling growing louder and more frantic as he drove you to the edge.

Elvis' breath was hot and heavy against your ear as he continued to move inside you, his pace relentless and unyielding. His hand, large and possessive, found its way to your throat, fingers tightening just enough to make you gasp. "You think he gives a damn about me?" Elvis growled, his voice harsh, barely above a whisper. "That damn Colonel, he don’t care about nothin' but his own damn pocket. Treats me like I'm nothin’ but his prize horse, pushin' me 'round... keepin' me on a leash..."

You could barely breathe, but the way his cock was filling you, slamming into you with punishing force, made it feel like you were floating. Your pulse raced, both from the thrill of it and from the sensation of his fingers around your neck, making everything feel so much more intense.

"All he cares about is his cut, his goddamn money," Elvis continued, his voice thick with disdain as he thrust into you harder, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to send a thrilling wave of dizziness through your head. "But you, baby… you're all I need. All I fuckin' need. Not him. Never him."

The words were coming faster now, and so were his thrusts, rough and desperate. Your head tilted back, eyes barely open as you felt the pressure building inside you. You could feel his anger, his frustration mixing with a ferocious need, and you loved every second of it.

You squeezed around his cock, your voice strangled, almost pleading. "Please, Elvis, don’t stop… keep going…" His hand on your throat tightened, his pace increasing, and you felt the familiar heat of release start to curl in your stomach.

Elvis’ grip on your throat was unforgiving now, his fingers pressing in with a mix of anger and lust that made your head spin. His thrusts were punishing, each one harder than the last, as if he was trying to drive every ounce of frustration out of his body and into you.

The kitchen counter was cold beneath you, your body trembling, but you couldn’t help the way your hips instinctively met his, the need for him overwhelming every thought. “You like this, don’t you, baby?” His voice was low, rough, dripping with the heavy drawl of his southern accent. “You like me fuckin’ you like this, don’t you? I can feel you clenchin' around me, beggin' for more. You’re nothin’ but mine, ain’t ya?”

His words were like fire, and each one made your insides twist with desire. He was brutal, taking what he wanted, and you were helpless to stop him. The feeling of him pounding into you, over and over, was starting to break you down in the best way possible. It hurt, but in the most delicious way, your body on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

“Gonna make you beg for it, baby,” he rasped, his hips slamming into yours with vicious force. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you forget your own name.” The pressure in your chest, from both his hand around your throat and his relentless thrusting, was starting to pull you under, your body aching, but you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

You were so close, your body trembling with need. "Please, Elvis," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, but he heard you, his lips curling into a satisfied grin.

“Please, what?” he snarled, his words like a challenge. "Tell me, baby. What do you want?"

"I want you," you managed to breathe out, your body bucking beneath him. "I want all of you."

The roughness of his movements only intensified, his hands gripping your body like he was trying to claim every part of you. It was almost too much, but you didn’t care. You wanted to break.

Elvis’ pace didn’t slow down, each thrust crashing into you like a wave against the shore, relentless and unforgiving. Your head was spinning, the rawness of it all making it hard to focus on anything but him—his cock, his hand around your throat, the biting sting of his slap to your cheek. The slap was sharp, not too hard but enough to send a jolt through your system, snapping your attention back to him.

His eyes burned with intensity as he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Ya feel that, baby? Feel how badly I want ya?”

You could barely form a response, your body trembling beneath him, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his movements. You loved it, loved how rough he was, loved how he was pushing you to your limits. “Answer me, honey,” he growled, his fingers gripping your jaw to force you to look at him. His other hand came up again, and this time, his slap was gentler, a reminder of the power he held over you. “You’re mine, understand? Ain’t no one gonna fuck you like I do.”

You nodded, barely able to breathe through the pleasure and pressure building inside you. You were close, so close, and every ounce of pain was worth it.

The muscles in your thighs were on fire, shaking with every brutal thrust. Your body felt like it was on the edge of breaking, and Elvis wasn’t making it any easier. The slickness between your legs made a wet sound with every harsh movement, your body leaking all over the counter as he fucked into you with merciless force.

Elvis grinned, his breath coming out in quick bursts, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you tremble beneath him. "Look at you, baby," he said, his voice rough, almost teasing. "Leakin’ all over the place like you’re desperate for it. God, you’re so fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t ya?"

The sound of his words, coated in his thick southern drawl, made your head spin. You couldn’t form any coherent thoughts anymore; you were too consumed by the way his cock was slamming into you, the way your body was trembling with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a mess, sweetheart,” Elvis murmured, his lips curling into a smirk. “But I don’t mind. You wanna keep goin’, don’t ya? You love it when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

You could barely nod, your body trembling in response. It felt like too much, but you wanted more, needed more, your mind hazy with desire. Elvis’ moved his hand and gripped your hair as it tightened, his fingers twisting into the strands with a roughness that made you gasp. He pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at him, his eyes wild, feral. He was thrusting into you with a brutal, animalistic pace now, each movement harder and faster than the last, his cock pounding into you with relentless power.

“You wanna come, don’t you, baby?” he growled, his voice dripping with both lust and dominance. His thrusts were so deep, so hard, that you could barely breathe, your body trembling beneath him.

But just as you were on the edge, feeling the pressure building, he pulled back, grinding against you with an almost cruel slowness. His hand stayed tangled in your hair, forcing your head back further, exposing your throat to him. “You ain’t comin’ yet,” he hissed, his breath heavy as he smirked down at you. “Not until I say so.”

You could barely form words, your body shaking from the need to release. “Please, Elvis... please… I can’t… I need it…” Tears welled in your eyes, your cries of desperation echoing in the room as you begged him. “Please, let me come... I can’t take it…”

But Elvis just laughed, a dark, twisted sound, as he increased the pace again, fucking you harder, not letting you get any closer to your release. “You think I care what you need? You’ll beg me for it all night if I want you to.”

Elvis’ frustration was still burning in his eyes, the anger he felt toward the Colonel spilling into his every movement. But even as his thrusts remained hard and unyielding, he seemed to notice your discomfort, the strain on your body from being pinned to the cold kitchen counter.

With a growl, he pulled you off the counter, not bothering to slow down, his cock still buried deep inside you. You barely had time to gasp before he lifted you into his arms, holding you effortlessly as he stalked toward the doorway, still thrusting into you with a steady rhythm.

Your hands instinctively clung to him, your body trembling in both pleasure and exhaustion as he carried you through the halls of Graceland, his grip on you possessive and unyielding. “Not gonna keep you bent over that damn counter,” Elvis muttered through clenched teeth, his voice a mix of anger and lust. “You deserve better than that.”

With one final, furious step, he entered the Jungle Room, the soft lights and lush décor contrasting sharply with the rawness of the moment. He didn’t hesitate, sitting down on the sofa with you still in his lap, his cock still buried inside you, the force of his thrusts now more deliberate, though still rough. “You’re gonna stay on my lap now,” he growled, one hand gripping your waist, the other running through your hair. “Let me fuck you how I want, baby, no more of that cold counter. You’re all mine, now and always.”

You were limp against Elvis' chest, your body barely able to hold itself up as he continued to fuck you with relentless force. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain through your body, your limbs weak, your breath ragged. You couldn't do anything but cling to him, your hands barely able to grip onto his shoulders as he held you in place. "You like this, huh?" Elvis growled, his voice dripping with a mixture of anger and dark amusement.

His hands roamed over your body, rough and demanding, leaving marks on your skin, fingers digging into your flesh as if he couldn't get enough of you. He was grabbing every inch of you—your waist, your thighs, your breasts—leaving behind bruises that would remind you of him for days. "You’re all fucked out, aren’t you, baby?" he taunted, his voice low and mocking, his thrusts never slowing. "Barely able to hold yourself up. You gonna be my little ragdoll, huh? All limp in my arms while I fuck you like this?"

You could barely respond, the pleasure mixing with the soreness in your body, but your mind felt like it was spinning in a haze. Every time you thought you might collapse, he would tighten his grip, pulling you back up into him. “Come on, baby, talk to me,” he demanded, his voice rougher now. “Tell me you love it when I leave marks on you, when I fuck you like this. You’re mine, ain’t ya? Gonna remember me for a while, won’t you?”

You could only moan in response, your body too weak to do anything else, and he smirked, clearly pleased with your inability to speak. His pace quickened, the pressure building again, and all you could do was hold onto him, completely lost in the storm he’d created inside you.

Elvis’ hand suddenly came down sharply on your ass, the sting from the slap jolting you out of your haze. You barely had time to register the sensation before he did it again, harder this time, making you gasp. “Focus, baby,” he growled, his voice rough, thick with his southern drawl. “You’re makin’ a mess of yourself, can’t even keep it together. You ain’t gettin’ a break.”

You whimpered, your body too weak to keep up with the force of his thrusts. The ache in your legs and hips was overwhelming, and your head felt foggy. You could barely breathe, let alone concentrate, your thoughts scattered. "Please, Elvis..." you begged, your voice hoarse. "I can't... I need a break... just for a second..."

He smirked down at you, his grip tightening on your hips as he slammed into you harder. “Nah, baby. Ya don’t get no break. Yer gonna take it all. Take what I give you, whether ya can handle it or not.”

The sting of his words, mixed with the sharp slaps on your ass and his punishing thrusts, had you on the edge, your body trembling in his hold. Your muscles were screaming, but you couldn’t stop yourself from begging for more, your desperate pleas only egging him on.

Eventually, Elvis' pace began to change—slower, deeper, like he was trying to anchor you to the moment. His hands, which had been gripping and bruising, were now soft on your body, caressing the curves of your hips, your waist, your breasts. His voice, previously harsh and commanding, softened as he spoke, his breath still ragged but filled with a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he pulled you closer to him, one hand gently cradling the back of your head. “You took everything I gave you. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

You could barely focus, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of everything he'd put you through. Your muscles were sore, weak, and your entire being was on fire. But even as your mind was swimming, you could hear the love and care in his voice.

You felt his body tighten beneath you as he thrust once more—hard—and you were on the edge again, feeling the pressure build up like a storm. "Come for me, baby," he growled, his voice strained but loving. "Let go."

And with that, it hit you, crashing over you like a wave. You came hard, your body shaking in his grip as you cried out, your sobs trembling in the air. As you were still reeling from the aftershocks, you felt him release inside you, his body going tense before going still.His movements slowed, his breath slowing down as he collapsed back onto the couch with you still in his lap.

You were exhausted, your body limp against his chest, and Elvis held you close, brushing his fingers through your hair, soothing you. “Ya did so good, baby,” he murmured softly, his voice full of warmth and pride. “Yer perfect, just perfect.”

Your quiet sobs were a mix of relief and emotional exhaustion, but as Elvis held you, kissed the top of your head, and whispered sweet words of praise, you knew you were safe in his arms. The anger from earlier had faded, replaced with something deeper, something genuine.

Elvis' thumb gently brushed across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear, his gaze softening as he noticed the exhaustion in your eyes. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as he held you close, his body still warm beneath you.

"I'm sorry, baby," he muttered in his deep, southern drawl, his voice low and sincere. "I got carried away. Didn’t mean to push you that hard." His hand slid up to your damp forehead, gently brushing back the strands of hair that stuck there from the sweat, his touch tender. "You were just too perfect, too damn beautiful. I lost myself."

You could feel the sincerity in his words as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. His breath was slow now, calming, no longer the ragged breaths of anger and desire, but the steady, reassuring rhythm of someone trying to make sure you were okay. "I never meant to hurt ya, honey," he murmured, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your back. "You’re all I’ve got, all I ever need. I jus' got frustrated, but you don't deserve that. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His apology came as a whisper, soft but sincere.

You stayed silent for a moment, your head resting against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding you as your mind tried to piece everything together. You could still feel the ache between your legs, the soreness that reminded you of just how intense everything had been, but there was also something else lingering in the air, something deep and satisfying.

After a few beats of silence, you let out a shaky breath and lifted your head to look up at him, your eyes still a little glassy. "Elvis," you started, your voice soft but steady, "I— I think I kinda liked it."

His eyes widened, but only for a second. Then a slow grin spread across his face, the kind of smile that made his eyes sparkle with mischief and something else—affection, maybe. “Ya liked it, huh?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, his southern drawl even more pronounced. He let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers trailing up and down your back as he pulled you closer to him. “Well, ain’t that somethin’.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but the smile that played on your lips couldn’t be helped. “Yeah, I guess I did. I mean... you were rough, but it felt good. It’s like you made me forget everything else.”

Elvis softly laughed again, the sound rich and full of warmth. “Well, honey, I’ll be sure to remember that next time. But don’t get used to me goin’ so hard on ya. I gotta keep you on your toes, ya know?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the affection in your smile said it all. “I can handle it.”

Elvis kissed your forehead gently, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “Good,” he whispered, pulling you into him even tighter. “You sure are somethin’, sweetheart. Ain’t nobody like you.”

Elvis shifted a bit, his hands gentle as he cupped your face, his eyes full of concern. He had always been so intense, so passionate, but seeing the faint discomfort on your face made his heart drop. He knew he’d gone too far, taken his anger out on you, because of the damn colonel, and it weighed on him now, despite the pleasure that had taken over both of you earlier. He couldn’t ignore it—he had to make sure he hadn’t hurt you.

"Hey, baby," he said softly, his southern drawl thick with concern as he gently pried your legs apart. “Let me check on you, alright? Just wanna make sure I didn’t do anything too rough.”

You winced slightly as he adjusted you, but there was no pain in your voice, just a quiet, understanding nod. You trusted him, and he was going to make sure he didn't hurt you in the process. His fingers lightly parted your thighs, and his eyes immediately focused on your red and tender cunt between your legs. The sight made his chest tighten—a mixture of guilt and regret flooding through him.

The folds was red and swollen, the aftermath of his roughness, but there was no blood --thank God--. His heart ached for a moment before he looked up at you, his eyes soft. “You’re okay, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his fingers gently brushing over the sensitive flesh. You could see the guilt written all over his face, how much it was weighing on him.

Elvis carefully set you down on the couch, making sure you were comfortable as he moved away for a moment. You could see the determination in his movements as he went to grab a wet towel from the kitchen, his steps quick but careful. When he returned, he knelt in front of you, his face soft, his hands trembling just a little as he carefully wiped the area between your thighs.

You winced as the cold towel touched the sensitive skin, your body still so sore from everything that had just happened. The sting made you flinch, and Elvis froze, his heart sinking. His large hands trembled slightly as he continued to clean you up, trying to be as gentle as possible, but the hurt in your eyes made him feel like the lowest of the low.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean to hurt ya, darlin'. I got too carried away with my own damn anger... I'm sorry. I’m sorry for hurtin' ya.." His voice cracked slightly as he leaned in, brushing his lips against your thigh in a soft kiss, trying to comfort you as much as he could. He wanted to undo the damage, make sure you knew how much he cared for you—how deeply he regretted pushing you too far.

“You didn’t deserve any of that," he murmured, his hands now gently massaging the tender skin as he kissed your thigh again. "I’m so damn sorry, baby. You’re too good for me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even in your sore state, your hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "I’m okay, Elvis. I’m fine. Just... next time, maybe a little less angry, okay?"

He chuckled softly, but there was a tenderness in it that made you feel safe. "I promise, sweetheart. No more anger. Just you and me... and a lot more care." He kissed you again, this time on your lips, softly, gently, showing you just how much he cared.

Interview in 1972🥰

I had to make gifs as he looked stunning ❤️

Im actually autistic and thought he was autistic bc of that list 😅

Why I think Elvis may have been autistic

First of all, the reason why I am making this post is because @iloveelvis2 has asked for more insight into why I believe Elvis may have been autistic.

Disclaimer: I just want to start out by saying that I am not a doctor or a psychiatrist or any kind of professional. Nor am I definitively saying that Elvis was autistic. We cannot diagnose someone who is not here and who cannot speak for themselves. This post is purely based off of my own personal opinions, lived experiences, and things that I have read about Elvis' life and personality. I am autistic and I also grew up with an autistic sister and father, thus I am using my own lived experiences as a reference point. Remember that autism is a wide-ranging spectrum and can present itself differently in different people, with different symptoms. There is no one lived experience of autism.

This might be a complete mess, but now I am going to list some of the traits that Elvis displayed that leads me to believe he possibly could have been autistic. So here we go.

Stuttering: It is very common for autistic people to have some sort of speech impediment or stutter. We do know that Elvis suffered from having a stutter, especially when he was younger, but it was something he carried with him throughout his life. Elvis himself said in an interview in 1956 that he stuttered when he got excited and had a hard time saying words that started with the letters "w" and "i."

Maintaining a sense of safety, familiarity, and security: Autistic people usually don't like change. We tend to like familiarity and have repetitive behaviors. We don't like outside forces disrupting or coming into our little bubbles. Elvis was the same way. It is well known that Elvis was extremely shy growing up and had trouble making friends. When he got older and as he became famous, he made sure to surround himself with his own group of loyal friends, and quite literally created his own little world and bubble with the famous "Memphis Mafia." These guys gave Elvis a sense of security, safety, and familiarity amid the chaos of his fame. While they were very much needed to help Elvis and provide him with protection for obvious reasons, they also became his entire world. So much so that I have heard countless actors and actresses who worked on Elvis' movies say that it was hard to get to Elvis because his guys were always around him. It was clearly very hard for E to let new people into his life at times, just as it was hard for him to let go of some of the people in his circle who were using him. Autistic people tend to be manipulated easily and taken advantage of by others who see them as an easy target and in spite of it we still keep these people around because we don't like confrontation and don't want to mess with the bubbles we have created. And I think that is exactly what Elvis did in some ways with the Memphis Mafia and the Colonel. Even if he was being taken advantage of, he not only wanted to remain loyal to them, but I think he felt he also would have been lost without them and the transition would have been highly difficult for him.

Repetitive behaviors: This sort of falls hand in hand with number 2. Autistic people usually do not like change and will often develop repetitive behaviors as a way of comforting themselves. One way I can see Elvis having repetitive behaviors is in his eating habits. I have heard countless friends of Elvis talk about how he was not adventurous with his taste (which is common in a lot of autistic people) and that he mainly stuck to the same southern foods he always ate. Yes, this is in part because of how he was raised but he also appeared to have eating cycles. I believe it was Sonny West who talked about a certain food combination Elvis ate repeatedly while he was touring in 1956, and during the last couple years of his life, he claimed that Elvis started "eating like 56' again." Showing that Elvis clearly went through repetitive food cycles. Not only to mention those peanut butter and banana sandwiches he loved to eat that seemed to provide him with so much comfort. Elvis was also known to rewatch movies over and over again. So much so that he would memorize the script and could repeat the dialogue over. It was claimed that he watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail around 35 times and knew every line! He also repeatedly listened to the speeches of MLK Jr. and could recite them back.

Regulating emotions: Most autistic people have problems regulating their emotions and Elvis was clearly the same way. He was highly impulsive and all over the place. His friends and family have talked about how his emotions would swing up and down and if he was upset or mad, they would make sure to stay away from him. Elvis was also known to get upset and fire people, only to rehire them after he cooled back down again.

Sensory issues: A lot of autistic people have sensory issues (including myself, it is an absolute hell). Elvis clearly showed signs of having sensory issues. For example, we know that he hated the smell of fish so bad that he banned fish from Graceland. He also had to have his room and hotel rooms at a certain temperature, usually very cold. There are several instances of him leaving and changing hotels because his room was not as cold as he wanted it to be. He also had a sensitivity to light. But that one is probably due more to his glaucoma in his eyes. But he also had problems with certain textures in food and had to have his meals prepared a specific way in order for him to eat it. For example, he only wanted to eat bacon and eggs if they were practically burned to a crisp. He also ate other specific combinations of food that many people would normally find repulsive.

Sleeping: Like many autistic people, throughout his life, Elvis had problems sleeping. He used to take sleeping pills in order to sleep, and his sleep patterns were not normal, as he was very nocturnal. now this in part was due to his lifestyle, but a lot of autistic people are naturally very nocturnal.

Stimming: Autistic people usually need to stim or fidget to help calm their nerves. Elvis was the same way. He was always moving and fidgeting, and he even said that he took up smoking because it was something he could do with his hands because he couldn't keep still.

Anxiety and digestion: A lot of autistic people have really bad anxiety and thus many autistic people suffer with massive digestion issues. While there are a lot of various medical reasons that could be at play, it is well known that Elvis had problems with his digestion throughout his entire life.

Special interests: Autistic people are well known for having special interests. Things we are interested in that we tend to become obsessive over. We love to immerse ourselves in these special interests and Elvis was no different. Elvis had many different special interests. He loved reading, religion/the Bible, spirituality, karate, football, Captain Marvel Jr., and he even immersed himself in those worlds. He incorporated his love of karate into his performances, had some of his jumpsuits designed after his favorite comic superhero, Captain Marvel Jr., even used Captain Marvel Jr.'s lightning symbol as the symbol for his TCB logo. His friends also said that he always watched football on TV wearing a football helmet because he wanted an immersive experience.

Attention to detail and hyper focus: A lot of autistic people are known for their attention to detail and hyperfocus. Their ability to tune into something, especially if it's something they love. I think we can apply this to Elvis and his music. Yes, Elvis was passionate about music, but he also had an uncanny ability to be able to listen to music and know precisely just how to arrange it. I have heard several members of his friends and band mates talk about how, despite the fact that Elvis never learned how to read music, he had an ear for arranging the music and was so hyper focused that he could come up with amazing music arrangements on the spot. He was also known for learning entire songs after hearing them only once.

Final thoughts:

Wow that was way longer than I intended it to be! I hope it's not too much of a rambling mess. Anyway, those are just some of the reasons why I believe Elvis could have been autistic. There are more reasons I could list but this post would turn into a book, and I would need to do more research for that. I just want to close by restating that all of this is just my own personal opinion and that we cannot and should not diagnose people we don't personally know, especially famous people who are no longer alive. Whether or not Elvis was on the spectrum, we will never know for sure. But I hope this post gets you thinking about the ways we view autism in our society today and how our expectations of what autism looks and acts like has changed as time has gone on. The possibility of Elvis Presley, the "king of rock n roll" being autistic does a wonderful job of challenging societies definition of what it means to be autistic. There has been such a stigma around autism, but the thought that Elvis himself could have possibly been a member of our community brings me a sense of comfort.

Man I wish I had someone to talk to about Elvis for that long lol