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thedgeofreality · 11 months

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can i request a fic where reader ann margaret is rude to reader and reader is like what did you say and just starts to beat up(or argue) elvis and memphis mafia are just in shock , elvis gets turned on and it turns into a super smutty steamy sex?

she walks over me

warnings: 18+, rude Ann, beating her up, smut, p in v, filth, choking, typical elvis stuff

pairing: reader x '64 viva las vegas elvis

wc: 1.9K

Elvis was throwing a small party for wrapping up the filming of 'Viva Las Vegas'. He invited the Memphis mafia and a few cast members which included Ann Margaret. You weren't too happy about her being there. You had been dating Elvis for a few years and everything was going so well until she came along. Whilst filming the movie Ann teased and flirted with Elvis multiple times and the worst part for you was Elvis doing it right back. Even when you were on set a few times, they continued to flirt. You tried bringing it up, but Elvis brushed it off as it was 'just a part of getting into the role'. So obviously you hadn't been very fond of Elvis either lately. And you made sure to make it obvious to him. You had been very distant to him.

You talked to him before the party and explained exactly how you felt about what had been going on. Yet this time he understood and listened. He even promised to keep you near him the entire time to show he wanted nothing to do with Ann.

So here you were sitting across the room from Ann, sitting on Elvis his thigh. His arm wrapped around your waist to keep you as close as possible. He was being extra affectionate and kissed you multiple times. Every now and then Ann would give you a judging glare. She had a tendency of being mean to you, but you couldn't care less.

You listened to Elvis and listened to his friends talk, ignoring and avoiding her as much as possible. Until they started talking about the cute moments Ann and Elvis had on set. You felt like a ghost at that moment. Could they not see you sitting right there? Elvis moved his hand up and down your waist in a comforting way.

You looked at Ann and she had a stupid smug expression. She kept going on and on about Elvis and it was starting to piss you off. Anger poured through you and you knew you had to leave the room or else things wouldn't go too well. So you stood up and walked into the kitchen just to calm your mind for a second. You stood there and drank some water and calmly made your way back into the room.

As you got closer you heard Ann talking to Elvis about you. Elvis didn't sound very interested in the conversation and kept telling Ann to stop talking about you. Ann of course didn't. You didn't understand how someone could be so hostile.

You entered the room again and just as you did, you heard Ann say something rude about you. According to her, you weren't a good lover and didn't understand Elvis. Hearing her say that made you go insane.

Elvis looked up at you and noticed the look on your face. "Baby.." He started but you ignored him. You walked over to her breathless with anger. You stood in front of her staring her down. "What did you say." You asked her, feeling rage taking you over. "I said you're not a good lover." She replied smirking at how riled up you were because of her. You felt humiliated by her.

Right there something snapped in you and anger ran through you like lava. Before you knew it you were beating her up. A silence fell over the room, everyone giving you horrified looks. They panicked and didn't know what to do. You heard your boyfriend say something, but you couldn't understand. Your ears were ringing and everything sounded like it came through a haze.

You continued your attack on her and all of a sudden you were pulled away. Elvis his big arms wrapped around you and pulled you off of her. You were afraid to look at him, you felt he was going to be upset and disappointed. You stared at the boys in front of you. They were kneeling in front of Ann and making sure she was alright. You caught a glimpse of Ann her face and you smiled when you noticed she had a bloody nose, her white dress now blood-stained.

Elvis carried you out of the room and went upstairs. Once he walked into the bedroom he set you down on the bed and stood in front of you. You sat there looking up at him, feeling a little afraid of what was about to come. You looked into his eyes. His eyes were looking down at you dull with disappointment. He shook his head before finally speaking.

"What is wrong with you." He spoke and you opened your mouth to reply but before you could say anything he cut you off. He raised his hand. "No. I don't want to hear it." He said and sat down next to you. He sighed and hid his face in his hands. He felt ashamed at that moment. You looked at him and felt so stupid. You disappointed him. You let your anger control your actions and nothing good came from it. "I'm really sorry." You said softly.

He dropped his hands and looked at you. He nodded. "I know." He replied softly and placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing it gently. "I'm not mad at you." He said, giving you a soft smile. "She was being a bit of a bitch wasn't she?" He chuckled and you nodded. "It was a bad idea inviting her." You replied.

"I know baby." He said and nodded. "But I had to, she was my co-star."

"I guess you're right."

Elvis got closer to you and wrapped his arms around you again. Pulling you in for a hug. You rested your head on his chest and felt his heartbeat fasten. You smiled to yourself as you hugged him back tightly.

"I've never seen you angry before." He said softly, resting his head against yours. You hummed in response. "I liked it." He said and smirked. He broke off the hug and stared deeply into your eyes. "Think I need to put you back in your place for that outburst there." He said and stood up in front of you, he was towering over you as always. You looked up at him with doe eyes, smiling knowing what was about to go down. He placed his finger under your chin and kissed you deeply.

Elvis pushed you down into the mattress and climbed on top of you. You felt like the room was spinning as he started kissing you. Soft moans were leaving his and your mouth. You both needed each other desperately. His big hands wandered your body and one made its way up to your neck softly choking you as he deepened the kiss. It felt as if a match was lit inside you, but it was immediately blown out as he broke off the kiss.

You whined softly and he chuckled at your desperate state. "Need you to be patient for me." He said softly and buried his head in your neck. Placing soft kisses on your neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, but he stopped you. He grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and pinned them down above your head. "Mm, none of that." He says grinning at you and kissing your neck again. He made his way down your chest and stopped. He pulled you up again so you were sitting and he got behind you. Unzipping your dress and slowly pulling it down your body. He placed kisses along your shoulder and a few down your back.

He threw the dress on the floor. He stared down at your body and smiled. "So pretty mama." He said and slowly unclasped your bra taking it off too along with your panties. You were now fully exposed to him and laid back down again. He got on top of you and started kissing down your body again teasingly. You felt his body pressed against yours, exposing how hard he was for you. You whined. "Want me that bad huh?" He said smirking. You nodded. "Nuh uh say it. Use that pretty mouth." Elvis says running his thumb along your bottom lip.

"Want you so badly." You said softly and he nodded in approval. He starts unbuttoning his pants and slides them off swiftly. His throbbing erection sprang up freely. Elvis got closer to you again kissing your neck as he rubbed his tip between your lips teasingly. You whined loudly as he slid into your pussy, feeling the burn of him stretching you out.

"Yeah, you like that huh mama?" He says looking deep into your eyes and smirking. He started moving inside you slowly, making sure you felt every bump and vein on his cock. "Yeah." You replied softly, feeling so dizzy and unable to speak as he slides in and out of you slowly.

He leaned down to give you a sloppy wet kiss. You placed your hands on the back of his head and he immediately broke the kiss off, shaking his head. "You've done enough with those hands today." He said and pinned your wrists above your head once again. He kissed you again and finally sped up his actions. The room was filled with loud moans and slapping skin. You were sure everyone downstairs could hear the two of you, but that was the least of your concerns right now.

He groaned loudly as he hit a deep spot inside of you making you clench around him. Elvis let go of your wrists and pulled your legs up high around his waist. Giving him a new and even deeper angle inside of you. He thrusts hard and roughly into you, making you moan loudly. "Such a bad girl, beating other girls up f'me." He says and he brings his hand up, wrapping it around your neck to choke you again. You moaned again loudly unable to form any words in response.

Elvis continued his rough attack inside of you and you closed your eyes, pleasure taking you over. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder and started thrusting fast inside of you. You looked into his eyes. You whimpered loudly as he hit a spot inside of you that made you see stars. "That's the spot huh?" He says smiling as he watches your face contort into pleasure. "So tight." He says as he hit the spot over and over again. You can't help but moan loudly as he does.

He attached his lips to the soft skin on your neck, sucking harshly. He pulled back and moved his hand down to your clit, slowly rubbing it but putting pressure. "I'm gonna cum." You say, your voice sounding harsh from all the moaning. "Do it baby, cum for me." He says and thrusts harder into you, fastening the circles he rubs on your clit. "Say you're mine." You said.

You moaned loudly as your climax got closer and closer. "Ah, I'm all yours," Elvis says loudly and you smile at him. That was all you needed to go over the edge. You moaned loudly as you clenched around his cock. His thrusts were starting to get slower and more sloppy. It hit you hard and you rode out your orgasm. At some point, you saw stars.

Elvis began moaning softly into your ear as his orgasm washed over him as well. He came deep inside of you and collapsed on top of you. His head resting on your breast. The two of you panting heavily as you came down from your orgasm. You played with his hair as he laid there.

You chuckled. "Think she knows who you belong to now." Elvis nodded sitting up and pulling out of you. "Yeah baby.. All yours." He says and kisses you passionately.

#elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #50s elvis #60s elvis #70s elvis #austin butler #big daddy elvis #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis fanfiction #elvis fluff #elvis smut #smut #fluff #viva las vegas #elvis x you

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aconflagrationofmyown · 11 months

Text

Three Way Script

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Warnings: rather angsty and with some strong language -but with a load of gentleness and love thrown in as is typical with this universe, please note the subjects covered here relate to infidelity and the death of an infant. Everyone herein is coping and not in a very tidy way but they’re tryin’.

Note: this is written in experimental first person view from Ann-Margret’s perspective. I’ve zero intention to vilify anyone and even had a little bit of qualms regarding using her in this at all. As is, I’m creating more of a character for her in the form of “Thumper” and her dynamic with the fictional Presley’s than any true resemblance to the lady herself. Cheers 💋

Dedicated to sweet @ab4eva who loves her hot tamale

Circa: summer of ‘63 on the set of Viva Las Vegas

It was a dark and deathly quiet quarter to four in the morning. I’d just been decked in the face by a sleepwalking Elvis Presley for trying to wake him up. Face throbbing, nerves strained from our undefined tryst, I clumsily chased him as he wandered outside, strangely stubborn in his unconscious quest for air, or space, or -her.

I didn’t know the etiquette for this, for any of it. I’d told him just that as he, a married man of such notoriety, pressed his lips against mine and told me that we had a connection.

He and I.

As if I couldn't feel it thrumming and seething and tugging between us during every scene and more concerning still, in the lulls between, in the quiet and unpretentious moments of rest when it wasn’t our characters, when it was just us. When he admitted to being gutted by the loss of his child, estranged from his ever-ebullient wife in her own bereavement, envious of his son, not even four years old, who occupied his space in her bed and took comfort from her body while he was obliged to dance and sing his way to another hit as if he wasn’t fragmented by the grief of it all.

“I thought you’d be all tough n’shit, a real firecracker.” he’d breathed with immense relief after uncovering that gooey, soft, vulnerable place inside of me that something about his grief and his hollow smirk and his lonesomeness had almost immediately unleashed in my soul. That urge to comfort, to assure him he wasn’t going out on a limb, it had me spending my days making a fool of myself for him.

Yet it seemed the price for such misplaced loyalty and pleasure was about to be extracted as I trailed him, calling out to him in vain, ignoring my aching jaw in an attempt to stall his sleepwalking, quelling the panic I felt at what must be done.

His guys didn’t know he was here with me and I wasn’t sure if I should tell them anyway, though I would have at this crucial point if I could have found or telephoned any of them. Tell them he was about to wander bare as the Lord made him into the studio lot.

I had to spare her that at least.

I had to call Graceland.

When I had entered my studio apartment earlier that evening Elvis had been sat in the kitchenette chair, twirling the landline cord around his finger, feet propped up on the Formica table, perfectly at home in my space, saying his goodbyes to a child or four. He gave me a dazzling smile as I stepped over my own threshold yet held up his finger for silence in my own space as he finished speaking with his family.

“Your phone ain’t bugged like mine is.” he had said casually by way of explanation for his entitlement to my rented room and then took me in his arms. I’d forgotten to press my point regarding privacy and rumors after that.

Now I fumbled the receiver off its hook and with all the cold, dreading heroism of a soldier launching a nuclear missile, I pushed redial.

One of the Presley cousins answered, I calculated the truth would get me where I needed fastest, so I said outright “Elvis is sleep walking on the lot and no one knows how to wake him”.

I was asked to hold and about twenty seconds later the receiver picks up again and this woman’s soft drawl comes over,

“Thumper? Is that you? Is he with you?”

Elaine was anxious. I could feel the strength of it through the phone, a visceral connection with a total stranger just by the waiver of her voice. So very anxious in that way that people who’ve been in a rash of losing things start to freak over the slightest possibility of another blow. It was the first time we’d ever spoken and yet I told her the situation as it stood, clear and concise. She knew of me -not just of Ann-Margret but of Thumper- and god knows I knew of her.

Elaine gained strength with details, demanded how long he’d been asleep and if he had his eyes open at all. With the first question I thought she was trying to trap me and get me to admit something I was more than ready to own up to. But then I realized she was just trying to triage. I gave her all the details I could tell and she gave me some suggestions.

“Make sure you duck away when you touch him or he’ll wallop you in the face, Thumper.” she warned with the surety of a veteran and her tone was so kind it took me ten whole minutes later to process the fact she had anticipated everything that had occurred and would occur. Despite that she was kind.

She was still kind after she suggested I let the dream run its course and maybe try to steer him from the gates or keep the outer door locked, and I had to tell her sheepishly he wasn’t wearing anything. Again, instead of what I was expecting she just let out a little huff and said

“Why didn’t you say? That makes things easier, you’ve got an ice pail, don’t you?”

So I ended up tossing ice at Elvis Presley’s chilled skin till he woke up and startled. Then led him back inside and when he saw the phone off the hook he got spooked and yelled at me that it wasn’t something to call the police for.

I said it was his wife instead. It was like he turned into a little boy then, he just yanked a sheet off the bed and curled into a chair at the kitchenette table and picked up the receiver.

I heard him whisper,

“Tink?”

before he waved me away and off as if this wasn’t my place that he had crashed in. But they were still softly chattin’ in a foreign sort of gibberish on the line by the time I gave up and fell asleep with the lamp on and him mumbling to his wife about his dream and asking to talk to a kid if one was awake.

He was gone when I woke up, so were his clothes.

Next I saw him, he was on set looking chipper, full face of pancake makeup disguising his exhaustion, playing cards with the boys waiting for the director to show. A quart’s worth of makeup was lathered to my own face, meticulously plastered on my left cheek five layers deep to disguise the purpling bruise he’d given me.

He acted like nothing, and I do mean nothing of any sort, had happened the night before. It was puzzling and I began to realize just how well he could compartmentalize everything. Lines and paces and dances and duets, he moved through them all that day with ease, belying the man who told me the night before he didn’t think he could keep going on like this.

‘This’ being the continuing of the smiling and dancing and grinding for all the nation to applaud, anything to market his resilience, once again having to rebound from his unsellable grief. But a child buried comes back in a man’s dreams.

“They made me choose, Annie,” he’d wept to me, “came out in their coats and said ‘which would ya like us to save, Mr. Presley?’ What was I s’posed to say to that, Thumper?” he begged me for an answer like I had an opinion on such a horrific conundrum. It’s times like these when a twenty three year old starlet isn’t sure what to say. “I can’t live without her! Can’t keep ‘em all well and happy without her, chose her. Now my baby girl’s dead.”

Her was always Elaine. And baby girl had been named Joe.

Josephine Belleaza, though her daddy couldn’t say her name, the name he’d lovingly chosen in happier times, couldn’t say it aloud without sounding strangled.

“It wouldn’t have changed a thing.” I kept insisting, I didn’t know what else to say except the truth of it, “They just ask those things to put it back on the -the- the patient.” The victim, the father, the parents. Putting those sleepless nights about choices back on his shoulders. As if a child drowned in the amniotic fluid that had once been its home and haven could be revived if the mother was cut apart to take it out. It was cruel, there never was a choice that god hadn't already made. “Wouldn’t have changed a thing. She doesn’t blame you, does she?”

“No, no never.” he’d sighed bitterly.

We talked a lot about her for a young co-star and her married leading man, laying in those twisted sheets he laid me out on, reveling in the fact I had no old memories etched on my skin, yet was soft and giving in all the ways to mimic the familiar one. It was an unfair usage, but when you’re in love you take a married man happily even if he seems as if he’s looking for more and less than your unstoried body could ever give him. A respite from things associated with dreams gone wrong, turned dark and twisted. He made me feel like a lifeline, he made me feel indispensable for him getting up each new day, he made my body rejoice and thrum from even the smallest of child play beneath the sheets, he made me fall in love with him.

And then he railed at me for calling her. I was the lifeline to get him back to her alive, sane and somewhat devoted. I was never his wife and according to him I should never have made his wife listen to his passing dalliance recount our tryst. It was unfair, I had done it to protect him but the minute the cameras stopped rolling he had cornered me and cut me down for the night before.

“You told her about us!” I accused him right back, righteous and misled all at once.

“There ain’t no us!” and he said it so easily.

That was true, I’d never met a fully grown man with such drive who found a way to make love in every possible way except the typical insertion method. I had not pressed it before, thinking it connected to his fear of pregnancy. “You told her about me being Thumper!” I clarified my complaint.

“Course I did!” he acted like I’d cracked up, “I tell her ‘bout all of ‘em, she’s accommodatin’ like that. Don’t mean she should have to have salt rubbed in the wound by talkin’ to ya. Ain’t fittin. She’s my wife!”

That stung, the categorization. There was little ole me, one of an apparent host of good time girls, and then there was her. And the fact she was his wife, that he really had his priorities straight despite his wandering eye, was a virtue lost on my love sick heart.

I was just furious and hurt.

“Did she put you up to this?” I seethed and he said no, no she hadn’t but this was just the way of things. He told Elaine about all his friends, which he considered me one, and on the flip side he kept them separated from his family life. It was traditional and tidy and archaic and we fought bitterly over it and made up in my bed.

He was gone again when I woke the next morning. But across the room in his stead was a large spray of roses he must’ve allowed in, shaped in a heart like a valentine, though the month was July. I anticipated conciliatory words in his childish scribble on the note. Instead, there in a delicate cursive was a quote, from Anna Karenina, I recognized,

“There are as many kinds of loves as there are hearts”

and down below in tiny, achingly gentle words was the sentiment:

“to a very tender young lady, for her pains and kindness to us, hope the cheek heals by the time I come and kiss it, all my thanks, -Elaine.”

———————————————————

I so hope I can crank out another of these or one for Gigi before too long, and a happier one at that, but for now I hope y’all enjoyed and thanks for all the love and questions flooding into my inbox for this make-believe family, it makes me so soft 🥹

Hope y’all enjoyed xoxo, lemme know below if you’d like to added to the taglist

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted