Little Black Dress | One-shot

Little Black Dress | one-shot

・❥・Pairing: 70s!e x reader

・❥・Genre: a pinch of angst, fluff, mature themes, 70s!Elvis, shy reader, insecure reader, jealous Elvis.

・❥・Ratings & Warnings: 18+ NSFW. MDNI.

・❥・WC: 5803 words

・❥・Summary: After being a devoted Elvis Presley fan for more than a decade, you and your best friend manage to miraculously score tickets for his Las Vegas show. You wear a classic little black dress, as your best friend decides it's the perfect opportunity to wear it for the first time. Unbeknownst to you, what you believed to be a 'plain' outfit choice seemed to have caught the eye of the King of Rock 'n Roll himself.

・❥ A/N: Hi my beautiful followers! I apologise for not posting for a while, life happens and well, you'll soon find out that I am quite the perfectionist when it comes to writing. This is unlike any other I have written before, my first attempt in writing NSFW content. Please be gentle with me, aha. Anyways, I hope you all like it! 💋

@literally-just-elvis-fics

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“I think it’s too short,” You said, attempting to pull the dress down lower. 

“Girl, you look hot, don’t overthink it.” Your best friend, Annie, confidently replied in contrast to your self-doubt about your attire. 

Exactly a week ago, you managed to score some tickets to see Elvis Presley at the Las Vegas Hilton hotel. Even if the infamous singer has been playing numerous back-to-back shows at the infamous venue, the tickets remained challenging as ever to get a hold of. It seemed that even after the decade-long absence from the stage, his name never failed to lose its popularity and relevance. As a result, crowds upon crowds of people were lined up just outside the ballroom excitedly waiting to be let in. And for once, you and your best friend were one of them. 

You became an Elvis fan since you were a freshly-turned teenager, his charm and unique way of performing immediately captured your curosity.  Despite, of course, against your parents’ wishes. Like all the other parents in the country, they were determined in calling Elvis Presley “a rebellious boy” and how his scandalous movements are wrecking the minds of the youth. You laughed at that and simply ignored the “warning.” You were still fairly young back then, only really discovering him after he finished his military service. And so, ever since the start of teenagehood - you became a fan. 

Because here you are, all these years later and still an avid fan of him. Through the persuasive ways of your best friend, she has managed to convince you to finally wear the little black dress at the very back of your closet. You purchased it a while ago, with no specific intention on wearing it anywhere, as you didn’t perceive yourself as a wildly confident dresser. But as your best friend said, it seemed to be the perfect outfit to wear for your first Elvis Presley concenrt. 

And so, here you were. A tight little black dress that reached just a little above your mid thigh, paired with black boots and your hair in a half-updo. You thought it was basic and simple enough, but fitting enough for the event. But now, as you stood in the lobby - you began having second thoughts that the dress might be too short for the occasion. 

“Annie, does my underwear show through this?” You said, turning around, “I don’t want to be flashing anyone.” You worriedly say, knowing that the material of the dress is quite thin. 

Annie laughed, “You are absolutely fine, Y/N. “

You sighed in relief, “Ok, just double checking. “

“Besides, if you were to flash anyone, it’d be Elvis so-”

You gasped and hit her arm, “Annie! Oh my god, No!”

You shake your head horrified, face fully red in embarrassment at just the thought of such an incident. 

Annie simply smirked, “Why? It wouldn’t be so bad.”

You smile shyly, “Let’s just go before they close the doors.” You switch the subject immediately, keen to draw away from Annie teasing you. 

-

Excited chatter filled the ballroom, with not one single empty seat. You and your best friend were luckily seated only a few rows from the very front of the stage, but of course, found yourself rising from your seats and being as close to the front as possible. As close as possible to him. 

The moment you saw him appear on stage, it was surreal. He was one of the most photographed celebrities, but those photographs did not do him justice. It was true what others have said, how Elvis Presley’s looks were almost to the level of a greek god. A sharp jawline, beautiful tanned skin, high cheekbones, plump lips, and the most striking blue eyes that seem to pierce right through whoever he’s looking at. His black hair was messy, but fit him perfectly, falling over his eyes a little - with that boyish smile gleaming at everyone. It was such a stark contrast from the all clean-cut Ken doll throughout his Hollywood years. Even more so, his jumpsuit hugged his lean and tall figure, with the few buttons undone to reveal his chest. 

You were entranced. You spent your days endlessly playing his records in your bedroom at your parents house, and now more recently in your own apartment. But hearing him sing, right at this moment, in front of you - his talent never wavered. It astounds and shocks you at the same time, the familiarity of it and the newness of seeing him perform right in front of your eyes. He seemed to be more confident in his performing persona, knows how to command a stage and gone was the shy smile of his when he first started out. All throughout the concert, he would every now and again drop jokes and would constantly check if the audience is enjoying the show. 

It is almost the end now, and sweat trickles down his face and it doesn’t surprise you. The way that Elvis performs, it’s not a case of simply singing. No. It’s the vocals, along with his dances and karate movements mixed along that capture the eager-eyed audience. His immense energy surprises you, and you aren’t ashamed to admit that you are one of the girls in the audience screaming constantly in excitement. 

But then came the moment you’ve heard through hushed whispers, and that is how Elvis would kiss his fans at his concerts. You thought it was simply a rumour that spread like wildfire, as celebrity rumours do - but now you can definitely confirm it to be true. And that is because you are now on the receiving end of such a public display of affection. You barely registered the very brief encounter, but it happened. Elvis cupped your cheeks with his hands, and planted a brief soft kiss to your lips. He pulled away, but made sure to fixate his gaze on you with that smirk of his quirk in the corner of his lips. He was quick to be pulled into another kiss by another female audience member, but you were frozen. You touched your lips with your fingertips, the sensation still lingering as waves of bliss course through you. 

Of course, you were not naive to the fact that you are merely one of the many women that he would kiss that night. Afterall, the evidence was right in front of you - how Elvis walked away from the stage and made his way around, interacting with as many fans as possibe. This went on for a good while, before he returned to the stage and resumed performing a few more songs. 

After the final song, Elvis bids goodbye to the audience and gratefully thanks them before the curtains draw the show to a close. Your cheeks seem to be hurting, probably from all the smiling you’ve been doing so naturally. But you are back to reality now, the concert you’ve waited for what seems like your whole life - is now over. It felt like it was over in a blink of an eye, and you never fully understood that phrase when people say it - but you do now. Hours worth of performances were done in a single second it felt. 

But despite the shrinking feeling of dismay within you, the euphoric sensation coupled with pure adrenaline coursed fiercely through your veins. You linked arms with Annie, who herself shared the same expression - absolutely elated and sad it’s over. Everyone slowly dispersed the venue, excited chatters of memorable moments from the show filled the conversations. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Your best friend says, as she sighs while you are in the line of people exiting the venue. 

You shake your head, “Neither can I.”

“Well, now we can cross off two things from our bucket list.” Annie muses, as she smirks. 

“Finally going to an Elvis concert?” You ask, unsure of what the second one could be. 

“That and also kissing him.” Annie says, pure delight in her voice. 

You bite your bottom lip, unable to control a smile. 

“Gosh, did you see how that lady leaped over the tables just to get to him?” Annie asks, lowering her voice a little, “She’s my idol.”

You chuckle, “She definitely was determined.” 

“I’m surprised that his clothes didn’t rip to shreds, like back in the 50s?” Annie says, as you quickly recall the news articles of ‘rebellious Elvis’ performing and would often end with his clothes, quite literally - destroyed. There was a photograph of him walking backstage with no shirt on, and his pants that might as well be shorts. 

You shake your head, “Gosh, yeah. That was - people are strong, I’m telling you.” You chuckle. 

Annie nods and says, “I don’t know about you, but I am starving. Where do you want to go?”

You both were in the lobby of the hotel now, much of the crowd of people have exited the hotel and are most likely finding transportation to go home. 

Before you could even respond to the question, you hear a rush of footsteps that seem to be getting near you. 

“Excuse me!”

You both turn around and see a man who seems a little out of breath, “Hi, ladies. “ He offers a kind smile, and you instantly recognise him as part of Elvis Presley’s entourage. One of the men in his ‘Memphis Mafia.’ 

“I know you.” Annie furrows her eyebrows, seemingly taking longer to recognize the man. 

“Hi, I’m Jerry. I work for Elvis, and well he has invited you both  to his suite for dinner.” He says, as if it’s the most casual thing to say in the world. 

You freeze and exchange a look of shock with your best friend. 

“I-I’m sorry?” You stutter, not fully believing the words. 

“Us? He’s inviting us? To meet him?” Annie questions, tone in equal disbelief as you. 

Jerry nods, seemingly unfazed by your reactions. 

“Yes, that’s right.” He nods in certainty. 

You look at Annie again. 

“We’d love to!” Annie responds grinning excitedly, interrupting your thoughts from running into overthinking. 

As Jerry leads the way, Annie whispers to you, “Don’t overthink it, Y/N. This is once in a lifetime.”

On the way there, Jerry makes small talk with both of you. Just the usual case of introducing yourselves, how long you’ve been a fan and all that. All the while, trying to calm the fast thumping of your heart at the reality that not only will you be face to face with Elvis - but you’ll be talking to him. And also thinking about the wild thought that he has asked to meet you. 

There was not even one single point during the concert in which you’d thought he’d be fixated on you like that. 

-

You have been in his suite for an hour now, and overwhelmed is an understatement. The suite was filled with many other people; beautiful girls that could easily pass as models (perhaps they are), actors and actresses, and of course the Memphis Mafia. It still felt like an intimate affair though, with only around fifteen people in the room. You were sitting on the velvet couch, as you took gradual sips of your drink. Evidently, you were subtly people watching. Annie seemed to be caught up in a conversation with Jerry, as they both lingered near the pool table. Her laugh seemed endless, and you know from the look in her eyes and the gestures that she was definitely flirting with Jerry. 

You’ve met Elvis earlier, it was very briefly since he wanted to say hello to everyone. But in that split-second interaction, you cannot help but blush and stammer your name out as you introduce yourself. You were thankful that he was wrapped up in a conversation with someone else, as it decreased the chances of you absolutely making a fool of yourself in front of your celebrity crush. Right now, he seems to be in conversation with a comedian and his laugh echoes. You cannot help but smile at the sound. 

Annie seems to be nowhere in sight, but so does Jerry and you can only make assumptions of what that may mean. You sighed and stood up, refilling your glass of wine as you leaned against the corner of the wall - people watching. You don’t go unnoticed though, as a member of the Memphis Mafia approaches you - Red West. 

“Hi.” 

Your eyes refocus on the new face in front of you, he flashes a grin at you as he leaned the side of his body on the wall. 

You clear your throat, “Hi.”

“I’m Red.” He says, sticking his hand out. 

You shake it and kindly smile, “Nice to meet you, Red. I’m Y/N.” 

He repeats your name, an amused grin on his lips. 

“So, Y/N. . . avoiding humans then?” He jokes, as you are removed from all the conversations going on. Here you were, standing alone.

You chuckle, “Not exactly. I was part of the human chatter earlier.” 

Red nods with his arms crossed, “And now you’ve realised that humans are a pain in the ass.” 

You laugh, “I was going to say I just like people watching, but that too.” 

Red’s eyes flicker to your lips and you hardly notice it, completely oblivious that he is physically attracted to you. You yourself have never been experienced in the art of flirting nor romance, therefore you just deemed it to be a normal conversation. 

“Sounds like stalker territory, but okay.” Red says, dramatically putting his hands up.

You rolled your eyes but laughed, “You’ve never heard of that term before?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.” 

“It just means someone who is an observer of life. You know, how Shakespeare says that thing about how movies are ideas from what humans are like in real life. People get ideas from people, by people watching.” You explain. 

Red steps a little closer to you, and this you notice. But you don’t react because the conversation has been harmless so far. 

“Like Romeo and Juliet then, that’s Shakespeare right?” Red says.

That’s not exactly what you were saying, and you are pretty sure he just ignored the rest of what you were trying to say. But you are also aware of how some men just don’t use whatever brain cell they have. So, you are not surprised at his question. 

You smiled tightly, “Yeah.”

“You are very smart, you know. Very pretty just like Juliet.” Red says, a glint in his eye as he smirks. 

You laugh unsure of what to say, “Thanks, I guess.”

And still, you are oblivious as ever with his flirtatious tone. 

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of azure eyes gaze intently at you from across the room. Elvis has been socialising with everyone for an hour or so now, but in the corner of his eye he is still paying attention to you. Ever since his eyes met your face at the show earlier, he couldn’t help but immediately want to see you again. He has seen and been with many beautiful women in his life, the advantages of being who he is - the way women just flock to him without him even lifting a finger. But your beauty was not overdone, and your whole look was minimal. It was obvious that you were not dressed to impress, as they may say. You dressed as one would to attend a concert, but not with the intention of ever drawing his attention. Well, you did. But you had no idea. 

Of course, Elvis would invite a bunch of people to his suite for dinner after his shows. Aside from celebrity figures, Elvis would also invite people from the audience. Most of the fans invited immediately said yes, as you and Annie did as well. The hopeful women that clearly wanted and competed for Elvis’ undivided attention surrounded him, but his head snapped to you. You who was leaning so close to Red West, as you laughed in your fixated conversation with him. You both looked so in your own bubble, apart from everyone else. Apart from him. The women around him keep on talking, but Elvis is no longer listening. 

Elvis has thrown warnings to the MM before about his fans, if any of them were to try anything with any of the fans - he wouldn’t take it lightly. Of course, some fans that he would invite to his suite - Elvis had no intention of being intimate with. And so, Elvis wouldn't bat an eye if any of the MM were to flirt with them. 

But he clearly expressed his interest in you to the MM, and so rage fuelled his body at the sight of Red going against his words. Even worse, it looked like you were enjoying Red’s company with your cute laugh and  endless smile. 

Elvis has had enough. He excuses himself from the women around him and stands up, much to their dismay. But they quickly talk amongst themselves. Elvis strides over to you and Red, he takes his sunglasses off and folds it confidently - holding it in his hands. 

“Red.” One word and Red freezes. He turns around and there is Elvis with his jaw tightened and a tight smile on his lips. 

“Boss.”

“Heard you both laughing all the way there, wondered what the joke is.” Elvis says, though the intensity in his eyes mentally burning holds into Red’s head. 

You, of course, were frozen that Elvis decided to show up all of the sudden. Still not used to his effortless charm and handsome smile of his. 

“Um, i-it was n-nothing. “ You stutter, mentally hitting yourself at the sudden timidity of your voice. 

Elvis eyes are on you but he quickly looks back at Red, who seemed to have gotten more nervous than ever. He is scratching the back of his neck and is no longer leaning against the wall, but straightening his posture. 

“Honey, I doubt it. What do ya say, Red?” He says. 

Red immediately gets the hint and realises that he has fucked up. Here he was blatantly flirting with you, right in Elvis’ line of sight. 

“I’m saying. . .  I uh, Charlie needs my help on something. I better go.” He says, quickly excusing himself and briefly looking back at you. You frown, confused as his sudden change of mood. 

Elvis sighs and pats him on the back, “Good idea, man.”

“Bye, it was nice to meet you!” You call out and he shoots you a small smile before vanishing somewhere else. 

“You enjoying yourself, honey?” Elvis asks, the southern drawl so apparent in his tone. He casually takes the spot that Red was standing in, but Elvis is closer and he is leaning against the wall. 

You attempt to make eye contact with him, but his gaze is intense. Even more so without his sunglasses on. 

“Yeah, it’s nice. Thanks for , um, inviting me.” You say, twirling the empty glass of wine in your hands nervously. 

“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” He asks.

“You remember my name.” You say before you can stop yourself. 

Elvis chuckles amusedly, “Why wouldn’t I? Miss Little Black Dress.”  He says, shamelessly trailing his gaze from your long legs up to the gaze in your eyes. 

You feel your cheeks heat up, “Not the most creative choice, I know.” You smile at him, trying to make yourself relax and appear more confident. 

Elvis shakes his head at your comment, “You look good, honey. Don’t count yourself out.” 

Although he has probably complimented many women, his words still make you naturally blush. You can’t help but look away and nervously say, “Thanks.”

The one chance that Elvis Presley is having a conversation to you and to you alone, and you are looking away? You mentally hit yourself and try to push out the shyness that seems to have taken over you since the start of this conversation. With Red, it was easy conversation, you weren’t rethinking each word that left your mouth. But he wasn’t Elvis. He wasn’t the celebrity crush that you’ve endlessly devoted yourself over for the past eleven years. Elvis found you adorably amusing, clearly hyper aware of the effect he has on you. 

You muster some courage of confidence and attempt to meet his eyes again, as you clear your throat. 

“Sorry, you were saying?” You ask. 

“Hmm?”

“Uh. . you said about being honest with me about something?” You explain, redirecting the topic of conversation. 

He snaps his fingers and chuckles, “Ah! Right. I, well, would you like to get out of here?” He asks, his hand lightly brushing your hand but not quite intertwining your fingers. 

You freeze, not being able to maintain the shock with your eyes. Although you were practically oblivious when a guy was flirting with you, the naivety did not extend to words such as the ones that Elvis just let go. You knew what he was implying, and you were quite certain that he was hinting to sleeping with you. But this is when you drew the line. Sure, it was nice to talk to your idol, but crossing over to that territory? You don’t think you are sure of yourself. Besides, you haven’t even crossed territory like that with any guy. 

“I-”

He interrupts you, as if reading your mind. 

“I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I promise. I just figured it’s easier to get to know each other without all this noise.” He explains, voice soft. 

Your best friend’s voice echoes in your mind at that very moment. 

‘Live a little, Y/N. When an opportunity presents itself, just jump. As long as it’s not harmful. Besides, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ 

You hesitate, unable to form words. 

Before you could even register what is happening, you find yourself smiling at Elvis and agreeing to his offer, “Okay.”

-

It has been a while now since Elvis whisked you away from all the ‘noise’ as he described it. You were sure that your heart was beating loud enough for anyone to hear, as he placed his arm lightly around your waist. You were now in his room, and it was as luxurious as you’d expect it to be - the interior exactly what you imagined his taste would be. You were unsure at first on what to do, as you stood there. But luckily, Elvis was careful and noticed your nervous energy - he offered you to take a seat at the very edge of his bed. 

“How old are you, darlin?” He questions, as he faces you fully. 

“Twenty-four.” You say, and your mind immediately runs wild at what he must think of you now. 

Here you were, at the adult age of twenty-four and yet your life experiences seemed to not suit that description of such an age. You struggled to even hold a conversation with Elvis without stuttering or looking overly timid. In this stage of a woman's life, aren’t they supposed to be confident in their desires and advances? Romantic and sexual experiences should be vast by now, right? That’s what you believed, and yet - here you were. An anomaly within that belief. Your shy nature upon initial conversation with him, made Elvis conclude that you were a precious jewel out of the many. But your naivety to such things made you embarrassed, as someone with overflowing sex appeal had his undivided attention on you. 

Oh shit. He’ll probably ask something and that’s that. He’ll find out how embarrassingly inexperienced I am, and I’ll have to make a run from it. That is humiliating. 

You thought to yourself. Although you cannot be one-hundred percent sure that the conversation would lead to that, you know in yourself there is a pretty solid chance that it will. After all, the environment you are in just screams it. Here you were, literally sitting on his bed, the door is closed and it ‘s just the two of you. Besides, you’ve heard the rumours - about his sexual appetite. Afterall, he was this rock ‘n roll singer who practically had women fawning all over him. Logically speaking, he had to do something with that adrenaline after walking off stage - right?

You were getting ahead of yourself again, your thoughts running rampant and Elvis clearly noticed this. He delicately placed his finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, concern swimming in his blue eyes. 

You shake your head, “N-Nothing. I, um. . .”

“I meant what I said,  I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He says, placing his hand over yours as he squeezes it reassuringly. 

You sighed and nodded, trying to calm your nerves down. 

“Do you read?” Elvis asks suddenly. 

“I used to a lot, but not anymore.” You reply, managing to form a normal sentence without stuttering. You tilt your head in confusion as Elvis gets up, but shortly returns back to his spot next to you with a book in his hands.

“Why did you stop?” He asked, his genuine curiosity took you aback a little. 

You shrugged, “Life became busy and I don’t know, I eventually lost interest I guess.” 

You look at the title of the book that he’s holding, “The Impersonal Life by Joseph Benner.” 

Upon reading the title of the unknown book, Elvis delves into revealing that he is an avid reader and brings a suitcase full of books whenever he’s on the road. Surprise would be an understatement, you admitted to him that you never expected him to be a reader. As the conversation grows, you find yourself relaxing and all the nervous energy vanishes from you. You thought that when Elvis said that he wanted to get to know you, it was simply just a phrase. But he truly did evidently show that he was interested in what you had to say, you felt flattered. You would answer his questions, but then he would ask another one based on the answer you just gave him. And you knew that he was listening to you, as he stared intently and would nod encouragingly at you to continue. 

Initially stepping into the room, there was no clock in sight. You wished that you had your watch on, it would’ve helped to know what time it was. It felt like you’ve been talking to each other for a while now, you presume it has been hours. And yet, Elvis was true to his word - he hasn’t done anything that you didn’t like. 

You were in the middle of explaining to him the meaning behind your name, but you stopped mid-sentence.

“I’m sorry, I’m just rambling. Am I boring you?” You smile at him apologetically. 

Elvis grins amusedly at you and shook his head, “The opposite, honey.” 

He nods at your black boots, “Interesting choice.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, well, wearing heels makes my feet hurt. I mean, I have worn heels before because on some occasions, you just have to. But my black boots are my go-to, and coincidentally enough-”

You are looking down at your black boots, but stop yourself from continuing your sentence because you feel his focus has shifted. In the corner of your eye, you feel the heat of his gaze and this makes you naturally turn your head to face him. The pair of blue eyes flickered between your eyes, and your lips. Elvis sighed and it was obvious that he desperately wanted to lean in. All the while when you were talking, his mind kept directing him to stare at those lips of yours. So perfectly pink and inviting. But he held himself back, and didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

It was only this, in this moment did you realise how close together your bodies were. Your thighs were pressed up against each other and literally no space between you. It was silent for a while. You found yourself studying his face, and you still cannot believe how perfect he looks. It was so unlike the beauty of any other human being, you thought. You found yourself tracing his features with your finger, lastly touching his plump lips. Your motions were slow, and agonsing it seemed as Elvis' breathing increased. All the while you maintained your eye contact with him in good control. His eyes held pure fascination with your actions, a stark contrast from your shy nature. Your touch was delicate and careful, but he can tell that there is something more wanting to break out from you. 

It was in this very moment that you felt a hot sensation within you. You have hardly done anything, and Elvis is already feeling that familiar ache. His eyes intensified, as his tongue wetted his lips. 

Annie’s words echo through your brain again.

“I want to kiss you,” You finally admit, voice delicate but strong. You have never been this forward with a guy before, and so the words that leave your mouth surprise you.

“You don’t have to ask.”  He says, his tone of voice low.

You circle your arms around his neck, and finally - your lips meet his. The melding of your lips together, causes Elvis to let out a groan. The sound sparks the sensation in your lower body. The kiss was sweet and slow at first, but you felt yourself wanting more. An unfamiliar determination takes over you, as your hands thread through his hair - pulling it tightly. Elvis welcomes the pain, and tightly secures an arm around your waist - his touch searingingly  hot through your little black dress. The kiss is far from slow, as you both grow in need. His other hand grips your cheek as he deepens the kiss, recapturing your lips again, as he bites into your bottom lip. You let out a gasp, and swipe your tongue on his lips. The sweet sound of your gasps spurs something darker within Elvis, he needs more. But he can’t be selfish, and so he pulls back from the blissful touches.

Elvis is breathing hard, and you do too. Both trying to catch your breaths, as you try to comprehend what you just did. But a smile pulls on your lips, as does his. 

“Y/N, if we continue. . . I-I don’t think I can stop.” He warns, and your heart beats at how careful and honest he is. Staying true to his word. 

You lean forward once again and whisper, as you look him right in the eye, “Then don’t.” 

You gulp at the words you just let go, unaware where you found this confidence from. But you keep it going, not knowing when you’ll shrink back into your timid nature. 

Elvis’ movements are fast, as your lips meet together for the second time. This time, the kiss is not gentle anymore. It is filled with hunger and pure desire, a kiss that feels like the dichotomy of scorching desert sun and the icy glaciers that are surrounded by the Southern Ocean. A kiss that both felt like a crashing wave of relief, and an invisible rope tightly binding you and Elvis together. Your hands travelled through his back, his neck and his hair. Elvis’ hand trailed up your thigh and you felt your heart beating faster, as he slid the ends of your dress higher and higher. His other supported the back of your neck, as you naturally arched your back - displaying your neck invitingly to him. 

Elvis left a trail of strong kisses to your neck, “You have such soft skin, honey.” He hums, and you feel his teeth tug lightly at the skin of your neck. You moan at the feeling, knowing that you’ll have to find a way later on to hide the inevitable hickies that’ll be marked on your skin. You feel Elvis smirk at the sound, and this only encourages him to add more to the ones already forming prominently on your skin. 

“Elvis, I-I” You gasped. 

He pulls away, you frown confused at abruptly stopping his actions. Elvis finds this cute and chuckles at your expression, “Let’s take these off.” He removes both of your boots, and winks at you. 

He pulls you back into a kiss, and naturally brings you to his lap with your legs on either side of him, straddling his lap. Elvis groans at the contact of your thin underwear on his crotch, in this new position. His hand on the back of your neck finds its way to grip the butterfly clip that holds your hair together, he removes it letting your hair fall down and rest on your shoulders. 

Elvis looks at you in awe, “Beautiful.” 

Your cheeks heat up, only adding to the warmth that fiercely courses through your body. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the little black dress.” He says, and you feel breathless. 

“Oh do you now, Mr. Presley?” You muse, tilting your head at him as you bite your lip. 

Elvis places both of his hands on the ends of your dress and attempts to remove it smoothly, but grows frustrated at the strength of the material and you suddenly hear a sharp sound of tearing. Elvis pays it no mind and lets it fall to the floor. 

You laugh and shake your head at his frustration. Elvis laughs along with you and leaves kisses at the side of your face, as  you glance at the torn material on his velvet carpet. 

“But it’s time to say goodbye to it.” Elvis smirks. 

He flips you both over, so your back is on the soft sheets of the bed as he presses his body against you. Both of your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. You help him rid of his clothing, admiring in awe at his bare chest. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one.” He assures you, implying to the ripped up dress. 

“I have a better idea,” You say, tone sultry. 

Elvis smirks, his fingers circling your breasts, as his thumbs graze your perked nipples in repeated motions. You moan at the action, arching your back. At the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head, Elvis wishes to have the sight before him captured into his mind forever.

“Hmm? And what would that be?” His deep voice, sending you into limitless bliss.

You reach your hand out and grip the necklace dangling from his neck, using it as a way to pull his face towards you, as you clash your lips together and you feel him smirk through the kiss. He detaches himself from your lips, and descends down to kiss your jaw, your skin and now your chest. He is quick enveloping the hardened buds, wetting them with his tongue, as he repeats the action to your other breast. Your mind is in a frenzy, feeling your toes curl at the pure euphoria as you moan. 

Thank goodness for the Little Black Dress, you thought. 

Writers never stop learning

Becoming a better writer takes hard work. Wanting to write is just the first hurdle. It takes dedication, effort and practice to refine your craft.

Every draft is a learning opportunity, so never stop reaching for the stars. Each word is one step closer to achieving your goals.

I don't have much posted, but I am curious

Reblog if you're a fanfic writer and you wanna know what your followers' favorite story of yours is ❤

‘Yours Truly’ aesthetic

The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.

Update!

Hi! I haven't posted anything for a few days now, but know that I do have a few WIPs and something will be posted very shortly. I hope no one has forgotten about me aha. I do appreciate all the love on the works that are already up on my page.

Stay tuned!

Rose 💋