Elvis One Shots/Imagines

That's All Right - Elvis (kinda NSFW)

A/N: throwback to my first ever one but better (I hope)! request by the lovely @joebartolozzistan

There were few things about yourself that you truly let get under your skin. On the whole you tried to understand who you were without judgment. You accepted certain things as the facts they were : your singing voice wasn't the best, your hair rarely liked to behave, and you when got very excited about something you had the possibility to annoy someone. But those things didn't make you bad or undesirable, they were just traits you possessed.

Of all the things you had, one of the traits you couldn't get past was your appearance. You weren't the most ugly creature in the world, but you were still a far cry from pretty. You were lumpy, too much this and not enough that. Your legs never looked perfectly smooth even after shaving and you had marks along your skin from different things in your life. Acne, stretch marks, scars. It wasn't perfect and that broke you. You were a perfectionist in almost everything, how could you let yourself go? During your worse days, even looking the mirror felt painful.

Dating Elvis Presley seemed to only make it worse at times. He was handsome. So handsome it hurt your heart. You often found yourself in complete shock that you were who he had chosen to date. He wanted to love on you and it never seemed to make sense. Elvis could have anyone he wanted, the whole of America loved him. And yet, he saw something in you. You wish you knew what it was but you didn't.

Last week, you had been hit in your car at an intersection and fractured your leg. It wasn't life threatening but it was scary, and you needed help getting around with stable use of your left leg. Elvis offered for you to come stay at Graceland and you accepted before remembering the staircase leading to the bedroom.

Elvis didn't hesitate for a moment when he noticed this, scooping you into his arms to carry you into the bathroom. You said you were too heavy but he scoffed as he went up the steps.

When you got to the bathroom, you sat on the edge of the tub to turn the water on, running your hand under the faucet to feel it. Elvis was leaning against the door, watching you.

It was a little difficult to keep your balance but you held on as you prepared the bath. He still hadn't left as you went to unbutton your shirt, and you paused. He still didn't leave.

"I wanna watch the show, baby."

The instinct to say 'it's a rerun' was very strong, but it was overwhelmed by the flood of anxiety. Elvis had never properly seen your body. The two of you had made love but it was always at night in a poorly lit room. This bathroom, with its blaring lights and unflattering colors, would surely show him how ugly you were.

"It's nothing you want to see," you murmured, looking down at your hands to try and ignore the nerves.

Elvis's brows furrowed in genuine confusion and he quickly asked, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," you said quickly. Now was not the time to deal with your body dysmorphia.

"No, it ain't nothing." Elvis said, stepping near the tub. He crouched so he was closer to you and you looked away. "You was hating on yourself."

"Elvis-"

"Y/N... you do know how attractive you are? Right?"

You flushed, "that's certainly not what the papers say."

"Since when do I care about them papers? They also think I'm breaking the law, they ain't got no sense."

"Well, when half of America rushes to shame you because they think you're too ugly for your partner, let me know," you said defensively.

"Y/N, I think you're beautiful. Why don't you really want me here? You just want privacy? 'Cause if it's that I'll leave you just fine." His blue eyes watched you intently. He was giving you an out, Elvis always gave you an out. The last thing he wanted was for you to be forced into something extremely uncomfortable.

But looking at him, listening to his words and choosing to believe them, you decided to be transparent. Emotion clouded your voice but you pushed it down, "Elvis, I don't want you here because you've never seen me naked like this. Not dolled up to be sexy or... or hidden by the darkness. If I strip to clean, you'll see everything. And I don't think you'll like it."

"Oh baby..." His entire face softened, and his hand came to hold your cheek. You hadn't realized you were crying. Elvis studies you intently, searching for the right words. His other hand held yours, resting on your lap.

"You can say no," he started. "But I'd like to see all of you. Cause I promise baby, I won't hate it. Not for a second."

"What if you do? What if you hate all of it?" You said desperately.

"Y/N, I don't see you the way you do. I think you're a beautiful woman and I ain't see a single issue with your body. You could have a tail hidden back there and I'd simply be excited you got another cool thing about ya." His thumb ran along your knuckles. "Loving someone ain't dependent on their looks, baby. I love you for that sweet heart, your body just happens to be a bonus."

"Join me?" Your voice was nervous because you were, but you felt like you needed him to be with you in that moment. Not sexually, just intimately. Elvis nodded, unbuttoning his shirt and quickly stripping.

You took a shaky breath, his words giving you the encouragement to unbutton your shirt slowly. Elvis watched with eager eyes but made no move to rush you. In fact he didn't even look at your body. With each patch of new skin exposed, Elvis looked directly into your eyes with a soft kindness. You shucked it off, clipping off your bra to join it at the floor.

Without gawking or staring, Elvis helped you stand, allowing you to lean on him as you took off your skirt and underwear. He got into the bath first, then helped you step in. He eased you down until your back was leaning on his chest, his legs on either side of you.

To your shock, Elvis's length against your back was hard. He noticed you noticing, and kissed the space between your neck and your shoulder.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N..." he said, peppering hot kisses along your skin. "I have no clue what you was talking about."

"I have stretch marks and hair," you pointed out, wanting to prove you weren't crazy.

"So do I, baby, it's human."

Elvis held you in his arms, helping wash your hair and body in the warm bath. Yes the two of you were naked and you could tell Elvis's body was aroused by all of this, but it really wasn't sexual. It was just two people being together in the most raw way.

Elvis didn't stop his praises. With each lather of the soap he commented on how soft your skin was, how lovely you were, how ravishing you appeared. He told you how stupid the papers were and how blind the photographers were. Even your double chin you hated served him a purpose, and he planted a kiss along your neck to prove it.

You felt yourself cry at his actions, the kindness of it not lost on you. He just held you, loving you for everything. When he noticed your sobs, he kissed your forehead and said, "that's all right, baby."