#silk chiffon collection

[silkfab1]

Best Elegant Silk Fabric Styles in Homer Glen 

Silk Fab offers the best elegant silk fabrics in Homer Glen! We provide a wonderful selection of silk fabric styles, each chosen for quality, attractiveness, and sumptuous feel. Our sleek silk textiles are noted for their smooth finish, brilliant colors, and long-lasting durability. shop now! For more details, contact us today! 

[samkkshopping]

Sridevi Vijaykumar: Turquoise Dream in Samyakk Organza

Introduction

In the realm of haute couture, certain creations possess the uncanny ability to transcend mere fashion, evolving into exquisite works of art that capture the essence of beauty, grace, and sophistication. Recently, the spotlight shone brightly on the resplendent @SrideviVijaykumar as she graced the scene adorned in the enchanting Turquoise Blue Sequins Embroidered Organza Saree crafted by the esteemed artisans at Samyakk.com. Let's embark on a journey to unravel the m yriad intricacies that rendered this ensemble nothing short of sublime, and why Sridevi Vijaykumar emerged as the epitome of elegance and poise.

Organza: The Epitome of Sheer Elegance:

At the heart of Sridevi Vijaykumar���s mesmerizing ensemble lies the timeless allure of organza — a fabric renowned for its delicate translucence and ethereal drape. Woven from fine silk yarns, organza embodies a sense of understated luxury, its sheer texture lending a subtle yet enchanting quality to any garment it graces. As Sridevi Vijaykumar donned the Turquoise Blue Organza Saree, she effortlessly epitomized the essence of sheer elegance, exuding a timeless beauty that is both captivating and unforgettable.

A Symphony of Color:

Sridevi Vijaykumar looks absolutely enchanting draped in her Turquoise Blue organza saree, showcasing a quintessential Sridevi saree look. The serene hue reminiscent of azure skies and tranquil waters exudes calm sophistication, perfectly complementing her elegance. This choice not only accentuates her beauty but also reflects her refined taste and timeless style. With her impeccable saree ensemble, Sridevi epitomizes grace and sets a high standard for discerning fashion connoisseurs, creating an iconic Sridevi saree moment.

Masterful Artistry in Embellishments:

In the realm of elegance, the Sridevi Vijaykumar saree stands out with its turquoise grandeur. The unparalleled craftsmanship manifested in its intricate embellishments. Delicately woven Sequins, Cutdana, and Zardosi work adorn the fabric, bestowing upon it an ethereal quality that is simply mesmerizing. Each meticulously placed embellishment serves as a testament to the artisan’s skill and dedication, resulting in a symphony of textures and patterns that dance in harmony with every movement, creating an enchanting visual spectacle.

Exquisite Border and Pallu Embellishments:

The border and pallu of the saree stand as veritable masterpieces in their own right, showcasing a symphony of craftsmanship that is both opulent and refined. Embellished with Pearl, Cutdana, Zardosi, Resham, and Sequins work, the gold-colored border exudes an aura of regal splendor, adding a touch of grandeur to the ensemble. This ornate detailing not only enhances the visual appeal of the saree but also elevates it to a realm of unparalleled sophistication and luxury.

The Velvet Blouse: A Study in Elegance:

Complementing the resplendent saree is a Velvet Blouse in the same captivating Turquoise Blue hue. Crafted with meticulous attention to detail, the blouse features intricate Cutdana, Zardosi, Resham, and Sequins work that mirrors the embellishments found on the saree. The luxurious velvet fabric adds a sumptuous texture to the ensemble, creating a seamless fusion of elegance and opulence that is truly captivating.

Elegance Personified:

Sridevi Vijaykumar’s appearance in this stunning ensemble left an indelible impression, showcasing the quintessential Sridevi looks in a saree. Each graceful gesture breathed life into the fabric, weaving an enchanting narrative of elegance and sophistication. With her innate charm and impeccable style, Sridevi Vijaykumar elevated the saree to new heights, underscoring the essence of true beauty — wherein one’s demeanor and grace transcend mere attire. In this defining moment, she epitomized timeless elegance, redefining conventional notions and leaving a lasting legacy in the realm of fashion.

FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)

What makes the Turquoise Blue Sequins Embroidered Organza Saree from Samyakk unique? A: This saree stands out for its impeccable craftsmanship, captivating color palette, and timeless allure. It epitomizes the brand’s commitment to excellence and serves as a testament to the enduring power of sartorial artistry.

What fabric is used in the creation of the saree? A:The saree is crafted from organza, a delicate fabric woven from fine silk yarns. Known for its sheer translucence and ethereal drape, organza lends a sense of understated luxury to the ensemble.

Can you describe the embellishments on the saree? A: The saree features intricately woven Sequins, Cutdana, and Zardosi work, which bestow upon it an ethereal quality that is simply mesmerizing. Additionally, the border and pallu are adorned with Pearl, Cutdana, Zardosi, Resham, and Sequins work, adding a touch of opulence to the ensemble.

How does Sridevi Vijaykumar’s choice of the saree reflect her style? A: Sridevi Vijaykumar’s choice epitomizes elegance and grace, showcasing a quintessential Sridevi saree look. With her innate charm and impeccable style, she elevates the saree to new heights, underscoring the essence of true beauty.

Does Samyakk offer other varieties of sarees? A: Yes, Samyakk has a wide variety of sarees in enticing hues, embroidery, and fabrics. From traditional Kanchipuram silk sarees to modern organza designer sarees and intricately embroidered pieces, their collection caters to every taste and occasion.

Does Samyakk offer international shipping? A: Yes, Samyakk provides international shipping services to customers worldwide. Whether you’re located in North America, Europe, Asia, Australia, or any other part of the globe, you can enjoy the convenience of having your desired saree or other garments delivered to your doorstep. Samyakk ensures a seamless shipping process, allowing customers from around the world to access their exquisite collection of sarees and other ethnic wear.

Conclusion: A Timeless Masterpiece:

In the rich tapestry of fashion, Samyakk.com shines as a bastion of diversity, offering a plethora of sarees in enticing hues, exquisite embroidery, and luxurious fabrics. From the traditional opulence of Kanchipuram silk sarees to the regal charm of Banarasi sarees, Samyakk’s collection spans the spectrum of timeless elegance. Moreover, their modern offerings, including organza designer sarees and intricately embroidery sarees, redefine contemporary fashion with flair. Sridevi Vijaykumar’s choice of the Turquoise Blue Sequins Embroidered Organza Saree from Samyakk epitomizes the brand’s commitment to excellence. With its impeccable craftsmanship, captivating color palette, and enduring allure, this ensemble stands as a testament to the enduring power of sartorial artistry. As Sridevi Vijaykumar graced the scene in this resplendent saree, she not only epitomized elegance and grace but also left an indelible mark on the annals of fashion history, serving as an eternal source of inspiration for generations to come.

Also Check Out:

Sakshi Agarwal Looks In Saree

Athulya Ravi Looks in Saree

Riya Suman in Saree

Kavya Gowda in Saree

[agworldexim]

Trending Collection of Silk and Chiffon Saree

Discover elegance redefined with our trending collection of silk and chiffon sarees. Immerse yourself in luxury, grace, and timeless beauty. Explore couture that speaks sophistication.

agworldexim.com

[piharwacollection]

Ready-made suits for women have become increasingly popular among women due to their convenience and diverse range of styles. However, finding the ideal ready-made salwar suit that complements your personal style and fits you perfectly can be a daunting task. In this blog post, we will provide you with valuable tips to help you navigate through the options and discover the perfect ready-made salwar suit that matches your preferences.

[yellowfashionsarees]

[frostedmagnolias]

Dress

c. 1913

Silk embroidered with silk, beads and pastes; trimmed with chiffon

Label ‘Liberty & Co London & Paris’

The John Bright Collection

[a018233]

ೀ Identity v men with a s/o that sleeps naked.

Characters: , Eli Clark, Norton Campbell, Naib Subedar. Edgar Valden

content warnings: gn!reader, mostly sfw. Not really yandere, but can be read as one. Established relationships. Cockwarming in Norton's but it's not really sexual.

A/N: almost at 100 followers so I kinda wanna do a special. Someone should commission me and I'll write you whatever you want, give me sanrio photographer or buffy and my life is yours‼️‼️

Eli was surprised after finding out, he's a little traditional and modest when it came to clothes, but oddly enough, he wasn't against it. Eli can't help but think it's a little cute and endearing, though. Mainly because he thinks he's at the point of your relationship where you're comfortable doing 'weird' things with him. His biggest concern is you catching a cold. Eli prefers to keep his sleepwear on, so he won't join you in sleeping naked. Though, maybe on a hot summer night, he'd strip down to his boxers just so he can spoon you comfortably without overheating the both of you. Eli likes having you relying on him whether you realize it or not, so he prefers to stay up until you've fallen asleep so he can cover you with a blanket, it's more a act of love and reassurance that you won't accidentally catch a cold.

After you started doing it, It didn't take Norton too long to follow. He likes the close intimacy he gets from cuddling nude with you. Norton is aware he's high maintenance as a lover, to him, it's total reassurance that he's the only one for you. Reassurance that you love and trust him no matter what. The type of intimacy only he and he alone can have with you. It gives him a little pep in his step the next day. It's something looks forward to each night. He looks forward to your shared nightly routine just as much as waking up with you. I'd think at some point you two decide to kick it up a notch with cockwarming, something to keep you two locked in place together. He finds nothing as relaxing than burying himself nice and deep inside you while his arms keep you in a tight embrace.

Naib already likes sleeping in his boxers, so he doesn't really have a reaction. At least, that's what you think when you go under the covers on your shared bed. He's internally questioning himself. Is it okay to hold you? Where does he even put his hands without it being weird? Is he even allowed to look? For the first couple nights, he doesn't hold you like he usually does. But after a while, he gets used to it. Although, he won't join you in going full comando unless he just got out of the shower and dried himself fully, but he's keeping his boxers on when it comes to sleep. Naib isn't one for opening up or heart to heart conversations but having your head against his chest, and your limbs entangled with his provides comfort for him. He's a mercenary, someone who has killed for his own benefit. So it's complete solace when you ramble in a sleepy voice about your day knowing you trust him wholeheartedly.

Edgar can't help but scoff when you join him nude under the covers, he's seen your nude form before. Your his lover and muse, of course he'd seen every inch of you. As much as your breathtaking, he's annoyed. He bought you a whole collection of all sorts of sleepwear made from the most richest material money can buy. Only the best for his lover, he can't have his muse wearing cheap clothing. Linen, silk, cotton, satin, and chiffon. With all sorts of designs he commissioned personally. Tailored to your exact size, some with your favorite colour's, colour's that match you. He even made sure the fabrics were light and breathable, and yet you choose to sleep naked? When the initial annoyance settles, he begins to feel a little flustered, yes he's seen you naked before, he has done full body portraits of you. But somehow this feels different. He can't explain why, but it feels more intimate than any canvas he's painted of you. Now, to him, it cements your love for him. That in the dead of the night, that you aren't his muse right now. But his lover. The one you love the most.

[heirofnight]

pendulum

an azriel x reader thought dump that may or may not become a series but is really just me needing to unload a bunch of thoughts and feelings that i have

ok enjoy <3

the late afternoon light cascaded through the chiffon curtains that billowed gently against the large windows.

your rooms at the house of wind had become a sanctuary - your safe place, secluded from the hustle and bustle of the main two floors below you.

you'd spent months curating your chambers, collecting pretty trinkets and beautiful art that were all now dutifully placed around the room. you'd made sure that each item had elicited emotions from deep within your chest each time your eyes happened to fall upon them - sadness, joy, longing, adoration - you'd been infatuated with simply allowing yourself to feel.

you'd acquired bookshelves lined with novels including the widest range of genres you could get your hands on. you loved to learn - aspired to fill your mind with as much knowledge as possible. your eyes snagged onto the spine of one of your favorite classics - a romance, of course. you were always drawn to romance. your heart was consistently perched right on your sleeve, dreaming of the day that a lover may pluck the beating organ right into their own hands - cradling it and worrying over it as if it were their own.

you sighed at the thought, gently sprawling your current read across your chest. layers of cloud-like bedding encompassed your frame - you were already curled into your mattress for the evening, body adorned in a silk pajama set comprised of a camisole and shorts. the smooth fabric boasted dainty embroidered roses - it was your favorite ensemble to wear to bed, airy and light.

you peered around your space, the fire lit in the hearth providing the coziest blanket of warmth. the bursting sunset allowed pools of golden, pink light to pool across your hardwood floor. you felt, just for a moment, like you were solely existing in a dream.

and, like in most of the dreams that nestled their way into your mind's eye while you were asleep, azriel's face made an appearance right at the forefront of your thoughts - uninvited, but never unwelcome.

your eyes fluttered shut as you allowed every part of you to succumb to every bit of him.

you adored being a romantic to your core, and often found a lovesick, drowsy feeling always trailing right behind any thought of the shadowsinger that resided right down the hall.

you'd pined for him, which came as no surprise to you at all. he was so kind, so gentle with you. and you longed to give every ounce of love that you'd been collecting, saving, nurturing, growing for the right moment - the right lover - over to him.

you knew he deserved it. and deep down, you knew he'd been longing to be loved just as much as you'd longed to love.

you curled your legs in tighter to yourself, opening your eyes to cast them to the tall ceiling above your head, but only momentarily.

you never allowed yourself to give into these lovelorn feelings for too long, lest you actually make yourself feel ill. your body would begin to itch with the urge to bound northward through the halls, until your bare feet found themselves right at the threshold of azriel's wooden door.

and then what?

then things - feelings - would become too real, and azriel struck you as the kind of male likely to bolt as opposed to stare down the barrel of that gun.

so, you clutched onto the book that was still spread across your chest, stretched your bare legs out before you, and continued to read. about love, and happy endings, and a male that loved the main character just as much as she loved him. if only.

azriel, on the other hand, decided that he loved you about fifteen minutes later. and by decided, it moreso felt like he had been hit in the chest by one of cassian's training shields at full-speed.

his shadows had been skittering about his large frame, following him up, up, up the stairs, and down the hallway towards his rooms.

he was lost in thought, momentarily attempting to work out the details of a mission he was set to embark on later in the week, and also contemplating if he should ask the house for a plate of chocolate cake to indulge in before sharpening truth teller.

he watched as a tendril of shadow darted ahead to unlock his door, and all it took was one absentminded craning of his neck to the left to stop him dead in his tracks, literally - his heavy boots almost making an audible screeching sound at the abruptness of it all.

the door to your rooms was ajar, just slightly. he wasn't even sure if you were aware of it.

but right in his line of sight, was you. laying atop soft bedding, bare legs in silk shorts, long hair undone and cascading around your shoulders like a halo. the evening glow through your windows mixed with the flames from the hearth and surrounded you in a haze that made you look like an angel - like you were a figment of his imagination that had conjured itself when he was in need of it the most.

you were so peaceful, reading a book with a dreamy-looking expression painted across your features. he couldn't have asked the most skilled artist in prythian to create a more beautiful piece of art.

now, of course azriel knew you. he'd conversed with you plenty of times. you were often around the rest of his family, present at most meals and gatherings. and he'd always thought you were beautiful - achingly so, at times.

however, he'd forced himself to place a mental barrier where you were concerned. you were too precious, too kind, too bright. so bright, in fact, that he'd always made sure to hide his shadows away from you.

but seeing you this way, right now - he felt those mental walls crumbling under the weight of your exquisite existence.

should he knock?

should he inquire about what you were reading?

should he honestly just skip all of that, and instead rip his heart from the confines of his chest and offer it over to you on the spot?

no, surely not. his shadows were lazily orbiting around him now, and his wings had relaxed to the point of lightly trailing along the stone floor. he was mesmerized, and you hadn't even noticed - hadn't even seen him.

which, he thought, was probably how it was always going to be.

his hand twitched, his fist clenched, and his shoulders drooped - all for only a moment. and then he continued forward, dejected and craving isolation.

back to the shadows, where he belonged. not worthy of your warm, bright light.

a/n: sad girl + sad hours = sad writing

lmk what u think PLS, this one feels a little pointless but i wanted to share it anyway <3

[dreamgrlarchive]

My Collection of Beauty Standard Inspo 💗

#PrettyHeiressDiaries

video vixens ❤︎︎

video vixens are the quintessential sexy girl that you either wanted to be or wanted to get. they’re almost always hyper girly and there’s a natural beauty to them that’s less prominent as of late. they ooze effortless sex appeal. not to mention the mystery they held. i mean they literally were just there to look good, be pursued, and look good some more. they weren’t talking, let alone telling their business.

thin brows

frosty lip gloss

jet black or honey blonde long hair

millennium/logomania designer pieces

very blingy detailz

revealing cuts + sexy silhouettes

vintage glam black women ❤︎︎

appearing effortlessly beautiful while giving high maintenance class. these women are EXPEN$IVE! striking personalities and body language that commanded respect and attracted the best treatments only. a very overt glamorous brand of femininity.

voluminous hair and curls

opulent accessories

fur coats + shawls

metallic, shimmery eyes

pendant jewelry

ultrafeminine bougie women ❤︎︎

women like kimora lee simmons, mariah carey, and nicki minaj (and fictional characters like hilary banks, dionne davenport and toni childs) all carry themselves with a super girly aura. they don’t mind the “diva” or “gold digger” label; embrace it even. they love pink and being the most sparkly in the room and are often very successful and headstrong!

pink, pink, pink

tweed, tartan, + plaid

natural glam makeup

silk presses and sew ins

blouses + skirts

crop tops, tube tops, + turtlenecks

iconic early 90s supermodels ❤︎︎

the golden age of fashion. these women walked in the most influential fashion shows for me; chanel ss95, chanel fw92, azzedine alaia fw91, versace 92, lanvin a/w 91. the epitome of untouchable glamour. the circle of the most beautiful, most hardworking women ever.

silk, tulle, chiffon

statement pieces

designer purses

houndstooth and cheetah prints

form-fitting silhouettes

an amazing strut

[silkfab1]

Buy The Best Chiffon Silk Hijabs | Silk Fab

Silk Fab offers the best chiffon silk hijabs and the most attractive  Silk Fab's exclusive line of beautiful silk hijabs combines design and elegance to elevate your look. Our gorgeous silk hijabs are designed for women who respect high-quality fabrics and elegant designs. Shop our inventory today and see why Silk Fab is the best place to buy beautiful, luxurious hijabs online!

[samkkshopping]

Unveiling Elegance: Embracing the Surge of Designer Pure Saree Trends for Women

Introduction:

For numerous women, possessing a designer saree signifies the pinnacle of ethnic fashion, offering a distinctive way to stand out. The allure of a designer saree collection lies in its versatility, spanning from intricate traditional pieces to chic, ultra-modern designs. Catering to diverse age groups and fashion tastes, these unique, stylish Sarees are not only cherished by Indian women but also sought after by global clientele. India remains the unrivaled hub for authentic and trendsetting Pure Designer Sarees, captivating the imagination of artists and designers worldwide.

What are we going to learn from this blog?

In Indian culture, adorning oneself in a saree is deeply imbued with reverence for elders and cherished family values. Embracing the saree is embraced as a practice that bestows dignity and poise upon a woman’s demeanor. Furthermore, it symbolizes modesty and femininity, fostering a sense of confidence and empowerment within women.

The signature Indian dress comes in a variety of options in different colors. And patterns and one of the most stunning looking is Latest designer Sarees. These exquisite pieces are crafted by top fashion designers and houses according to the latest trends.

Why does this saree so much popular now a days?

For every Indian woman, owning a designer saree Silk is a cherished dream. The sheer elegance of a Stylish designer saree ensures that one truly shines amidst the crowd. What’s truly remarkable about a designer saree collection is its vast diversity, offering a plethora of options ranging from embellished to sophisticated, traditional to contemporary. Rest assured, there’s a designer saree to match every unique style.

“Indian designers continuously experiment with international designs and tastes, yet India remains at the forefront for authentic and trendy designer Sarees. These iconic garments not only elevate one’s style but also showcase the rich cultural heritage of India.”

“Let’s dive into the diverse range of Designer Sarees available at Samyakk!”

Are you ready to immerse yourself in the world of designer Sarees? At Samyakk.com, we pride ourselves on offering a wide range of exquisite Sarees crafted to perfection. From pure designer embroidery Sarees to organza designer Sarees, tissue organza Sarees, pure Tussar embroidery Sarees, and an array of designer printed Sarees including georgette, crepe, Tussar, silk, Mysore silk, and drape Sarees, we have something to suit every taste and occasion.

Next up, we have the organza designer Sarees. Known for their lightweight and sheer texture, organza sarees are perfect for special occasions. Our range of Pure organza Sarees features exquisite designs and vibrant colors that add a touch of glamour to your ensemble.

If you’re looking for something truly regal, then our tissue organza Sarees are the perfect choice for you. Made from high-quality tissue fabric, these Sarees have a subtle sheen that gives them a luxurious appeal. With delicate embroidery work and intricate detailing, they are sure to make you feel like royalty.

For those who appreciate the beauty of handcrafted Sarees, our pure Tussar embroidery Sarees are a must-have. Made from the finest quality Tussar silk, these Sarees feature intricate embroidery work that reflects the rich heritage of Indian craftsmanship. Each saree is a work of art, meticulously crafted to perfection.

Last but not least, we have our drape Sarees. These Sarees are perfect for those who love the convenience of pre-stitched Sarees. With their effortless drape and flattering silhouette, Designer drape Sarees are a popular choice among modern women. Whether you’re a busy professional or a busy mom, our drape Sarees are sure to make dressing up a breeze.

What to look for while buying Indian Designer Sarees??

When Buying Indian Designer Sarees, several crucial factors demand attention to ensure a satisfying choice. Firstly, scrutinize the fabric meticulously. Fabrics like silk, chiffon, georgette, and organza offer luxurious draping and elegance, each boasting distinct textures and characteristics.

Color, design, and occasion should also heavily influence your decision. Opt for hues and patterns that complement your skin tone, body shape, and personal style. Consider the event at hand, selecting heavy silk Sarees with intricate embellishments for weddings and festive occasions, while reserving lightweight options with minimal detailing or printed designs for casual gatherings.

Lastly, establish a budget and adhere to it, prioritizing quality and craftsmanship over price. Remember, a well-chosen designer saree is an investment in timeless elegance and cultural heritage, capable of enhancing your beauty and confidence for years to come.

Distinguishing Between Fancy Sarees and Pure Sarees

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

What sets designer Sarees apart from regular Sarees? A: Designer Sarees are meticulously crafted by skilled artisans and fashion designers, featuring unique designs, intricate embellishments, and superior quality fabrics. They often incorporate the latest trends and innovative techniques, making them stand out in terms of style and craftsmanship compared to regular Sarees.

How can I ensure the authenticity of a designer saree? A: Authentic designer Sarees usually come with branded tags, labels, or certificates of authenticity. They also feature high-quality materials, impeccable stitching, and finely executed embellishments. Purchasing from reputable stores or directly from designer boutiques can further ensure authenticity.

Are designer Sarees suitable for all body types? A: Yes, designer Sarees are available in various styles and cuts to suit different body types. Whether you’re petite, curvy, or have a straight body shape, there are designer Sarees tailored to enhance your silhouette and accentuate your best features.

What occasions are appropriate for wearing designer Sarees? A: Designer Sarees are versatile and can be worn for a wide range of occasions, including weddings, receptions, parties, festivals, and formal gatherings. The level of embellishment and fabric choice may vary based on the event’s formality and ambiance.

How should I care for and store my designer Sarees to maintain their quality? A: To preserve the beauty and longevity of your designer Sarees, it’s essential to follow proper care instructions. This may include dry cleaning or gentle hand washing, avoiding direct sunlight exposure, and storing the Sarees in a cool, dry place. Additionally, folding them neatly or hanging them on padded hangers can help prevent wrinkles and creases.

Conclusion

The wide variety of designer Sarees available at Samyakk caters to every taste and occasion. Whether you prefer traditional embroidery work or contemporary prints, we have something for everyone. So why wait? Explore our collection today at our website www.samyakk.com and visit are store at Bangalore City. Add a touch of elegance to your wardrobe with our Elegant Sarees.

[the1920sinpictures]

From the 1922-23 Winter collection of French designers Callot Soeurs, this remarkable piece of clothing, which I can only guess was meant as a tea dress (which was a cut above lingerie and meant to be worn either alone while resting or as a hostess gown when entertaining lady visitors) is of silk chiffon over a lining of off-white satin, with gold metallic trim. From Fashion of Bygone Days, FB.

[whatisflorencewearing]

September 11, 2024 - St. Mary Magdalene Church, London

Florence got interviewed by @claraamfo ahead of her @bbc_proms performance.

She's wearing a vintage 1900s silk chiffon and lace robe from @rockstarboudoir paired with @shopdoen Dasha velvet ankle boots in Hickory (a rich chocolate brown that turns coppery when it hits the light) that features an almond-shaped toe, a mid-height heel, leather piping and cord lacing from the Holiday 2022 collection.

For those that are interested: Clara is wearing head-to-toe Vivienne Westwood.

Styling: @aldenejohnson

[lokisgoodgirl]

The Ceremony [Asgard! Loki x Fem. Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Every 1000 years, the gods of Asgard provide their sacred seed in a revered and respected ceremony🍆✨ Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Voyeurism. Language. Humour. A/N: Inspired by a scene in The Tudors where Henry VIII has a w*nk into a dish held by a servant. @lokischambermaid thank you for being my unwavering bad influence and cackle-merchant. (w/c 3.1k)

Loki sighed, turning and gazing critically at his reflection. He pulled the tie of his ceremonial robe tight around his hips. Green and gold. “Why we must endure this infernal sideshow of lewd banality, mother? It’s absurd.” Frigga rolled her eyes, a laugh catching on her tongue as she tutted gently. “I tell you this every millennia, Loki. The Ceremony of the Sacred Seed is not a sideshow. It is imperative to the good of Asgard.” “Watching the Royal family masturbate onto a garish golden platter is imperative to the good of Asgard? I see.” Loki huffed, smoothing his hair in the mirror.

The material was finest spun silk chiffon, the barely opaque fabric clinging seductively to every curve of Loki’s muscled body. A little too seductively, for Loki’s liking.

Intricate lace was hearted to the edging, pure sewn gold weighing on the hem. The ceremonial dressing gowns were woven by hand, the delicate work passed through generations. Creation of each of the three bespoke items for the gods of Asgard were legend, spanning the thousand years between ceremonies. Only the eldest and most revered weavers of the city were instructed; the knobble-fingered crones, Loki thought. He shivered, the image like freezing water on his balls. Frigga knew he was toying with her, but still...she felt the need to remind him of the role he must play. That all the men in their family must play. “You know very well that the seed is collected, that it is offered to the soil beneath the Tree of All Things to ensure Asgard’s continued prosperity. The people must-” “-The people must see that their gods' are strong, virile and willing to serve the realm with our innate power, brother. Our sacred seed gives sustenance to the tree, which in turn serves the people. Yes, mother?” Thor boomed. His own ceremonial robe hung loose at the waist, his oiled chest on display; the tie dangling ominously close to revealing all that lay beneath. He took a bite of an apple, the crunch making Loki flinch. “Yes, darling.” Frigga replied, squeezing Thor’s forearm as he grinned widely between messy chews. Loki grimaced, turning away. “Why must I always be last? It’s humiliating.” he murmured, tucking his hair behind his ears as he lingered on his reflection. His eyes flickered upward, seeing Thor’s beaming face appear ghoulishly over his shoulder. “Because you’re my little brother, brother.” the blonde smirked, taking another bite of apple. “I don’t know why you always make such a fuss, Loki. This is my sixth ceremony...and your fifth. Just close your eyes and think of someone pretty.” “We are not all as brutish in our carnal delights as you, brother” he hissed, “to whom the mere sight of a curvaceous table leg during a feast has him making a hasty exit to his chambers and the embrace of his hand. Some of us require more complex inspiration.”

Frigga raised her eyebrows, lips pursed at the familiar spat between her sons. Loki’s ceremonial gown swirled around his bare legs as he paced the floor, incandescent with self-satisfied vitriol. “...and inspiration such as that, I shan’t find behind those doors. Especially not as the third act to my father and brother’s sequential onanism.” “Onanism, brother?” Thor scrunched his eyebrows as a low cheer echoed from the hall next door, the sign that Odin’s contribution in the ceremony had been secured. “Self-pleasure, you cretinous rube.” the dark-god muttered, staring out the window-arch at the pink glow settling over the city below. “It’s time, Thor.” Frigga said, sensing the approach of the guards to usher her blonde son to his duty. He tossed the half-eaten apple towards Loki, a flick of his brother’s wrist making it vanish in mid-air. “Time to give the people want they want.” Thor grinned, throwing Loki a wink as Frigga tightened the belt around his hips. “Prepare yourself, Loki...I shan’t be long.” he rumbled smugly, making his way towards the now-open golden doors to the side, striding past the guards with arms outstretched. Loki could hear his brother working the crowd, their welcoming applause making him shudder. Two-hundred of Asgard’s dignitaries waited through those doors; standing in the side-wing of the great hall. Murals of past ceremonies decorated the alcove, visual reminders of memories that Loki would rather forget. Fifty witness spaces were balloted to the citizens of Asgard, the right to attend considered the highest honour. ‘The Ceremony of the Sacred Seed must be witnessed. We must be seen to be benevolent’, Loki thought, recalling his mother’s words in the lead up to his first experience with this accursed tradition. He rolled his eyes silently, making Frigga chuckle. “I shall leave you now.” she murmured, touching his arm lightly before her dress was but a whisper across the marble floors. For the first time, Loki felt the clench of nerves in his stomach. A thumbnail scratched at the gold edging of the robe by his heart, slipping to rub the muscle beneath. He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as he summoned familiar thoughts of the one he adored from afar. The one he craved. The forbidden one.

His hand slid down his chest between the soft fabric, the tie of his robe loosening. Massaging his soft cock, he could feel the first stirrings as his mind perused well-trodden fantasies. Slipping down the shoulder of her dress to plant a biting kiss, a tug of her wrists fastened to his bedpost, one slick soaped-up calf rising seductively above the rim of his claw-foot tub. Loki shivered, a wave of desire rolling down his spine, ass clenching. The loose fist he had made around his manhood pressed outward, the flesh thickening beneath dangerous thoughts. He was ready.

On cue, respectful cheers rumbled through the wall signalling that Thor’s dutiful service to the realm had been a success. Quick and artless, as usual; Loki thought with a smirk. The engraved golden doors swung backwards, palace guards setting themselves at either side in wait of their prince. Loki took a deep breath, striding barefoot across the marble floor. The flow of his ceremonial garb grazed his ankles with each long step, his shoulders squared; jaw set. He stared ahead, as imposing in the luxurious garment as he would be in his battle armour. The god’s dark hair rested behind his shoulders, one curl falling forward as he gave a curt nod to the high-priestess standing in the centre of the alcove. She raised an arm with difficulty, the long draped sleeves of her white gown made of the same intricate material as his robe. Don’t think about the knobbled crones, Loki thought; cursing himself inwardly.

“Loki Odinson. Prince of Asgard. Second son of our most sacred royal lineage...” Her voice was strong and commanding despite her advanced age, the white of her hair strewn across the back of her dazzling gown. “God of Mischief and Chaos; sworn protector of Asgard and its people. Do you consent to a ceremonial offering of your most sacred seed this night?” Loki’s eyes went out of focus momentarily, the temptation to roll them almost overwhelming. “I do.” he muttered, to a murmur of approval from the shuffling crowd. He ran his gaze around the half-moon congregation, two-hundred spectators waiting with a mix of trepidation and awe as Loki took his place in the centre. His stare crawled across familiar faces from council meetings and feasts, dignitaries and statesmen who had roamed his father's halls all his life. Their presence was to be expected.

In the middle of the crowd, the Asgardian citizens stood, their clothes noticeably less refined. Less...gold. Many held their hats in their hand, reverent and disbelieving at the sights they had seen thusfar as sunset drew closer. Four guards stood in a square around the dark prince, each holding a pole from which white silk hung like a flag. They all turned; eyes cast upward as they raised their posts to conceal the prince from the waist up. Loki heard a disappointed hush of whispers from his left, tilting his head in half-interested acknowledgment of their discontent. Of course, he thought with a smirk; observing a small group of women. The wives and daughters of Asgard’s political elite. With one notable exception. “It is time.” the high-priestess announced, passing the infamous golden platter to her disciple. Loki nonchalantly untied his ceremonial robe, letting the exquisite green fabric fall loose at his chest. He threw a knowing glance toward the women leaning forward in rapt attention as the silk-chiffon slid down his shoulders, catching on the curve of his biceps. They giggled, quickly hushed by their elders. Every inch revealed more of the legendary landscape of his body, forearms tensing as his broad shoulders rolled back. Several of the women gasped audibly, the ceremonial robe pooling on the floor around his bare feet with a soft rustle. Loki knew that the dying rays of sunlight from the circular window behind would be radiating across his skin, sparking the gloss of every strand of raven hair. He raised his chin upward, letting the crowd admire their prince as he gave a nod to the high-priestess. A sudden scent wafted in his nostrils, making them flare. Poppy. Only one person in this palace wore the scent of poppy.

His stomach fluttered, excited murmurs from the crowd becoming white noise as his eyes fell on she who haunted his thoughts. She slid beside the gaggle of women muttering to each other. There you were. Your face collected; dutiful. Beautifully impenetrable. In every way. She’s not supposed to be here, Loki thought; biting his lip as he extended his hand, one of the guards pouring oil into his palm. “Begin, Prince Loki.” the priestess proclaimed theatrically.

Loki’s gaze fell to the man kneeling in front of him, head bent in dutiful reverence with the golden receptacle outstretched, ready to receive his offering. The platter bearer, Norns; Loki thought. Best seat in the house. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply with his chin tilted upward. The scent of your perfume hung in the air like smoke, tendrils invading Loki’s mind as it began to whirl with lust. So close. You were so close...and you would see him as you had never seen him. As you had been forbidden to see him. Loki smirked, loose grip running up his thick arousal. Sneaking into the Ceremony, against her father’s wishes? What a naughty girl. Long fingers flexed around the base of his girth, giving it a tight squeeze. His lips parted, a low sigh of need escaping under the smallest movement of his hand. His oil slicked palm slid up his member...all the way up, achingly slowly. A gruff ahh caught in his throat as his fingers grasped the sensitive tip, imagining your plump lips sucking brazenly in their place. Loki’s grip tightened; his teeth gritted in concentration as he widened his stance. The marble was cool beneath his bare feet. How many times Loki had envisioned how he would take you upon this sacrosanct floor. The skirts of your dress pushed around your waist as your nails clawed down his back. He would unmake you, devour you, he would free you from every modesty you had ever learned...starting with that beautiful cun- “Fuckkk...uhhh..” Loki moaned, the echo creeping to every corner of the hallowed alcove and beyond. His head fell back further, waves of his hair brushing against the centre of his shoulder-blades as he stroked himself shamelessly under the spell of fantasy. “G-gods...yes.” A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd. The Ceremony was usually a silent affair, perhaps a whine or two at completion from its participants but nothing so...enthusiastic. From the level at which they stood, the crowd began to shuffle, craning to catch a better view of a god lost in his own ecstasy. Above the silk panels, his strong torso was visible from the navel, every thrust of his hips against his palm making that powerful stomach clench. The fading light cast shadows across deep abs, spasms of restrained desire making the muscles at his ribs jolt beneath the taut skin. Loki’s face was marble in motion, exquisite cheekbones sharpening and softening with each biting clench of his jaw, panting sluttishly to the muraled dome above. Loki’s mind wandered to the day he had returned from battle, coated in blood of a thousand foes: dead by his hand. You had run to him, concern etched across your brow, before you realised that the blood was not his own. How innocent you were. If only you had known the things that he would do to you. That he would have you do to him.

In his fantasises, he envisioned you pushing him against the balustrade, ravenously thrusting your tongue into his mouth. You would have relished every drop of him mixed with the sweat and filth of war that clung to his skin; consuming the grime as you would the one that wore it. Dirty girl, Loki thought; his stomach flipping with a wave of adrenaline, dangerously close to climax. You would be such a dirty slut for me. And only me. Loki thought of how your fingers would make quick work of the crusted ties holding his leather trousers at the hips. Of your hands slipping down to grasp his furiously hard cock in your delicate grip. His knees would buckle, delicious cleavage pressing against his bloodied armour; red streaks smeared across your cheek as you savagely took his pleasure at any cost. “Uh-uh-uh...Uh hhhh- y-yes...don’t stop...Gods.” Loki grunted wantonly, his face falling forwards with his mouth hanging open. His cock was bursting, flexing outward against the tight clamp of white knuckles. Blood thundered in his ears, a thick haze of feral lust coursing in his veins as he raised his gaze slowly, ceasing his heavy strokes to a crawl. The disciple at his feet raised his head in expectation, bringing the golden platter forward; flinching back down when he realised his mistake. Loki’s eyes locked to yours, watching him with that same concerned expression that you had worn in the hallway the day he returned. Or wait..., Loki thought as he palmed his cock gently upward, a shiver of desire rolling down his spine; Not concern. Need. Your lips were parted, brows knitted in concentration as you shuffled beneath his simmering gaze. Loki’s eyes ran covetously over your frame, your breasts rising and falling against the corset of that pretty dress. They may not know how much you wish to be behind these silk curtains on your knees choking on my cock, darling; Loki smirked to himself, as you let out a staggered breath beneath his smouldering stare. But I do. He let out a low growl, eyes rolling back as a thumb pressed up the centre of his wide manhood. The oil on his hand was hot with friction, slipping around the velvet skin beneath. Loki’s eyes never left yours, tilting his chin upwards again. His hair fell around his cheekbones, a strand sucked across his lips as he began to pant beneath the renewed pace of his palm. He observed you through half-lidded eyes, biting his lip as his ass clenched with every smooth swipe of his hand against that forbidden pleasure he knew you craved. How he wanted you. How he had always wanted you. Loki hoped your father could see the eye-fucking occurring amid this most solemn of Asgardian festivals. An honour: Loki thought with a sly tug of his lips, that even that odious old fucker could not deny, surely. “Oh-oh, f-fuck...yess.” Loki groaned, close to release; syllables dripping from his tongue like double cream. His fist flexed around his length, palming himself mercilessly while thoughts of you ravaging his cock invaded his senses.

The god’s eyebrows slanted upward, his jaw slackening. A murmur of excitement rolled across the crowd, seeing the prince’s shoulders tense and tighten. Biceps bulged as his free hand grasped his naked thigh beneath the silk panel, an audible gasp from the spectators as he threw his head back. The veins in his throat stood out, jawline sharp as Vanaheim steel in the embers of smouldering sunset. The curtain-bearers tenses in position, the manservant serving the golden platter forward as the muscles in Loki’s legs strained against the precipice of orgasm. His eyes squeezed shut. Knowing you were watching him come undone...that would need to be enough. For now. He could feel breaths catching in his throat, panting like a wolf on the hunt. Stars flashed and simmered behind his eyelids, mutters of anticipation rising from the crowd as his dark moans of shameless pleasure reverberated around the marble walls. In his mind, you were lying in his bed. Legs spread to welcome him as he lowered between your open thighs, melting into the curve of your breasts. “Take me, Loki.” you would whisper against his skin, as you guided his aching cock inside your wet, hot cunt. “I’ve been waiting for you.” With a thundering groan that would wake the dead, Loki came. It rang around the alcove, bouncing to every nook and cranny of the great hall beyond. He heard the group of women gasp in unison, their quiet whines peppering the air as he came undone. Glorious, pure white seed spurted across the outstretched golden bowl as Loki juddered. He steadied against the shoulder of one of the stoic curtain-bearers as shallow pants racked his body. Loki squeezed up from the base of his cock, every drop of his essence secured. For none could remain. Slow claps dotted the crowd, growing louder as the spectators showed their appreciation for his dutiful service to the realm. The god's eyes flickered to where you stood; a coy smile pressing against your dimples as you applauded demurely with a mischievous glint in your eye. He swiped the ceremonial robe held out to him, making a show of whirling it around his body, allowing you a final gratuitous look. Loki tightened the cord around his hips, straightening and smoothing his hair back as the curtain-bearers raised their poles to reveal his whole form once more. I’m still hard, Loki thought, realising immediately that he didn’t care. The high-priestess approached, giving a small bow. She smiled, leaning in toward him. “One can always count on Asgard’s second son for some...unorthodoxy.” she whispered. “It is nice to see that a millennia has not changed you, Loki.” She winked, accepting the golden platter and its contents from the kneeling man shuffling on his knees across the floor. Loki rolled his eyes. “Will that be all?” he quipped, pursing his lips. She nodded, the same smile tugging the corner of her mouth. He gave a curt nod to each section of the crowd, lingering a moment longer toward the one where you stood. Loki could swear there was a thin sheen of sweat on your collarbone, that you pressed your lips together to contain a bite as he raised his eyes to yours.

I have been waiting for you, he thought, feeling his heavy cock throb as he began the short walk back through the golden doors from whence he came. Tonight, my forbidden one; we shall wait no more.

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[foreverdolly]

Heyyyyy Sunny baby! So listen, congratulations on hitting 2.5K! I couldn’t imagine it happening to a better person.

So I have a request for mafia boss!Elvis (preferably 70s era if that’s okay with you!)

21. “Touch her and you’re dead.”

16. “You shoot anyone that comes through the door who isn’t me.”

And I would like the forbidden love trope as well!

Something about mafia boss!elvis and the forbidden love trope sounds hot to me. I love you baby! Congratulations again!

-Daisy (@powerofelvis)

𝐏𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 | 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚!𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

prompts: "you shoot anyone that comes through the door who isn't me" and "touch her and you're dead." with forbidden love trope.

word count: 2.1k

song: i got a feelin' in my body - elvis presley

notes/warnings: SMUT! brief talk of violence. elvis owns you and your pussy, but he worships the ground that you walk on. you've got him majorly pussy whipped. thank you so so much, daisy! i hope you enjoy this.

You were guilty of overlooking every rotten thing that your lover had ever done- which was a lot. Your ole’ man wasn’t a very good man, but he owned you. Heart and soul, he owned you. Your existence before Elvis felt so far off- like it had been a past life. You weren’t sure how you even functioned before you had a great big man to warm your bed at night and scare away all the monsters. 

You were guilty of overlooking every rotten thing that your lover had ever done- which was a lot. Your ole’ man wasn’t a very good man, but he owned you. Heart and soul, he owned you. Your existence before Elvis felt so far off- like it had been a past life. You weren’t sure how you even functioned before you had a great big man to warm your bed at night and scare away all the monsters. 

The Sunset Strip used to be your stomping grounds. You made a name for yourself there, what with your good looks and submissive disposition. One day you were doing a private dance for a good looking stranger that was dressed to the nines, and the next day you were holed up in the penthouse of his luxurious hotel room, breeding like rabbits and kissing until both of your lips felt raw. 

Elvis loved adorning you in diamonds and blood rubies. He made sure your hair and nails were done at all times, bought you all of the latest designer collections- you were a prize, and he treated you as such. His prize. The man, regardless of his cold exterior, belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him. You had him wrapped around your little finger. The power that you had over the boss was remarkable. All it took was a singular heated gaze from across a busy room, and in the blink of an eye he would be tugging you into the nearest bathroom, ripping at your chiffon skirt with eager hands. 

Your name hung from his neck on a solid gold chain, the lettering inlaid with diamonds. He had one made for you as well- ELVIS spelled out in bulky letters. He loved to joke around and say that it was your collar. He’d often tug your face closer to his by hooking one of his long fingers underneath the chain. You loved feeling the heat of his cigar and peppermint scented breath, paired with the cold metal bite of the thick chain pressing nto your neck and he pulled you up, up, up. Elvis either fucked you like he hated you or made love to you as though you were made of silk stretched thin over porcelain. 

It drove him crazy, but he loved being mean to you. Loved biting into your skin to leave claim marks deep enough to draw blood. You’d yelp and thrash, scratching at his exposed flesh, all while he’d stay deeply buried inside of you. Marking you. Claiming you. Owning you. He’d apologize afterwards with strong calloused hands stroking gently at your hips, his skilled tongue flattened against your abused pussy. 

Your ole’ man was harsh and cruel. He loved striking first and getting even. He believed that pain and death were two of the greatest motivators in life. He held strong to his convictions, maintaining that certain things weren’t deserved but earned. 

Life being one of them. 

Elvis rarely messed up. His ideas were usually reckless- the thoughts of a mad man- but everything always worked in his favor.  He was an evil genius, his mind only working in absolutes. 

You were lounging on the king sized bed, your long legs stretched out behind you, your head popped up on your elbow. You enjoyed watching Elvis work. You liked the way his long fingers rubbed against the barrel of his gun as he polished his collection. You liked the deep rumble of his voice, like lightning before a storm, when he was barking orders at someone over the phone. You liked it when his blue eyes turned glacial when something didn’t go exactly his way- the murderous aura that overcame his built stature. 

He was all powerful. He had a penchant for torture. He didn’t believe in “forgiving and forgetting”. He feared no one and nothing. 

And he was yours. 

“And what the fuck do they want?” He leaned back into the red velvet desk chair, boredly staring out the window and down at the view of the city. He owned half of it. 

You watched him with heavy lidded eyes, your limbs still shaky and unstable after an hour of incessant pounding from the tops of Elvis’s muscled thighs. Usually he stayed in bed long enough to watch his cum drip out of your spent cunt, lazily scooping the warm seed up with two fingers only to shove it back inside. 

Keep it where it belonged. 

There was something about tonight's conversation with one of his lackeys, Lamar, that felt off to you though. 

“Tell Frank that if he tries to get anywhere close to me that we’re gonna have’a problem,” A heated pause, and then Elvis was slamming his large fist down onto his oak table. “I’ll blow his fuckin’ brains out. You tell him that verbatim, got it?” He slammed the black telephone back down onto the receiver, stretching out his long legs before letting out a troubled groan. 

“Baby,” He mumbled as he pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, giving them a few exhausted rubs. “Imma need you to get dressed.” He braced his hands on his knees, letting out a small groan before he was up and moving, one of his shoulders popping when he stretched his long arms up and over his head. 

You dragged yourself up to a sitting position, strands of hair falling off of your shoulder, a few flyaways falling into your face. He wanted so badly to lay you back down on the bed and hold you until you fell asleep. Maybe push himself inside of you up to the hilt, just so that you could warm his cock while you slept. 

But tonight was going to be different. 

Tonight he’d have to teach a few rookies a lesson before he could turn in for the night. He was getting old, and the last time he checked the clock it was nearing midnight. He was tired, and because of that he was extra grumpy. 

He lit up a cigar before reaching into the large walk in closet for the closest shirt. He wasn’t shocked to find that it was a black button up- nearly everything he owned was black. He didn’t bother tucking the material into his trousers before he walked into the living room to slide on the pair of shoes that he had been wearing earlier in the night- before you had slyly cupped him through his pants the moment the both of you had gotten back to dinner. 

“What's wrong?” You called out to him from the bedroom, untangling your limbs from the satin bed sheets and stumbling into the closet. You put on the nearest lacey nightgown, ripping one of your robes off its hanger to pull on as well. 

“Frank and a few of his men are bein’ nice enough to pay me a visit, that’s all. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He shrugged on the leather holster vest, tightening the belts at his chest before loading them up with guns. He slipped a few magazines into his pockets, just to be safe. 

 He loved watching you dress- but almost everything you did turned him on. The bullets jingled in his pockets as he leaned against the french doors that connected the living room to his private quarters. You could spit in his face and he’d be rearing and ready to teach you a lesson. 

He worshiped you. 

Which is exactly why he had to keep you protected. 

He crossed his strong arms over his chest after he folded up the sleeves to his forearms, the tattoo of his family crest now on full display. “You’re gonna hate me for this,” He started, licking his plush lips before continuing. “But imma need you to get in the closet and close the door, honey. Whatever ya hear out here. . . don’t come out until ya hear me tell you to.” 

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as you stared at him from across the room, your heart already thundering in your ears. “I-I can’t just stay with-” 

“No!” He barked, causing you to jump in shock. He never raised his voice at you. “This is gonna be bad. "Brains smeared on the walls” sorta bad, lil one.” 

You sucked in a breath, your joints locking up in panic. He could tell that you were starting to spiral, and so he took a few long strides to get to you, pressing a few quick pecks against your already kiss-swollen lips. 

“There’s a couple’a guns in the closet. They’re all loaded. I want ya to shoot anyone that comes through these doors that ain’t me.” 

You nodded your head, shakily turning around to face the closet door. 

“Use your big girl words. I want to hear that you understand.” 

“I understand, Elvis.” 

The dyed brunette heard the closet door shut, and he was quick to close the french doors, only shapes and blurry colors visible behind the frosted glass windows. Almost on cue the door to the suite slammed open, the doorknob going straight through the drywall of the entryway. The man’s eye twitched, one of his guns already in his hand. He felt the cool metal- the weight of the weapon.

It was all familiar, just like going back to Memphis. 

Happiness can be found in a warm gun. When his finger is on the trigger, no one can do him any harm. Elvis could shoot a hole straight through a quarter from half a mile away. 

He was God with a revolver. 

“What the fuck has you bargin’ into my home at midnight, Frank? Did your wife leave ya? Maybe you want to park your sorry ass on my couch.” Elvis used his free hand to push back a few strands of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. 

Frank growled, flashing his clenched teeth at the younger male that stood across from him. 

“I know you took it. Don’t play dumb, you hick.” 

Elvis took a deep breath in through his nose to cool down the heat that was building in his chest. He acted too quickly on his anger- it was something that he was working on. 

“Frankie, I ain’t got the time’a be arguin’ like this. Either tell me why you’re here or get the hell out.” He could have been balls deep in your pussy again by now if it wasn’t for the rude interruption. 

“Someone stole a hundred pounds of product from one of our warehouses last night, and I know it was you.” 

Elvis stood there stoically, his face completely void of any emotion as he let the other male’s words sink in. After a few seconds the corner of his lip turned up into a small smirk. Then it evolved into a grin. 

Before Frank could understand what was going on, Elvis was clutching at his stomach, throwing his head back with loud laughter that echoed around the room. 

“F-Frankie Boy, I had no clue you were such’a comedian.” He wiped at one of his eyes with the back of his hand, as if to rid himself of a tear. “You think that I, Elvis fuckin’ Presley, would steal a measly one hundred pounds. . . from you? I could own you and your entire family four times over. You’re nothin’ to me. Nothin’ but’a speck on a whole map’a pricks.” 

Frank and the two sons at his side bristled with anger. Elvis didn’t flinch when he heard the sound of a gun’s safety being clicked off. He didn’t even bat an eye in their direction. 

“Then who the fuck took it?” Frank asked through clenched teeth, the veins in his forehead bulging. 

Elvis thought that the old man’s fat head might explode, especially if he kept tensing up like that. 

“Maybe ya should check out the nearby gas stations. I’m sure some junkie had a field day., is all” 

And Elvis was right. He hadn’t been the one to steal the product. . . but he did check out one of Frank’s warehouses. He preferred to keep an eye on his competition. 

Elvis didn’t invite the homeless man into the building. . . but he hadn’t exactly locked the door back behind himself when he left. 

“If you don’t start talking, Presley. . . I’ll carve that pretty littl-” 

Elvis might have been an older man, but he was still far faster and stronger than most men that were fifteen years his junior. He’d been in this game a very long time. Before Frank could even finish the sentence, Elvis had one arm wrapped around his throat, his other hand holding a smoking gun. 

The three men had been too shocked to have even heard the gunshot ring out in the penthouse. All they could do was blink dumbly at each other. 

That was before the pain kicked in, anyway. 

The shortest of Frank’s sons dropped to the floor, screaming out and clutching his shattered knee. The gun was already pointed at Frank’s other son before they could even recover from the surprise. 

Elvis pressed his lips against Frank’s ear and spoke through clenched teeth, tightening his hold around his throat. The room plummeted into silence, the only sound behind the boy’s whimpers of pain and the deep sound of the mob boss’s voice. 

The sound of your man’s voice. 

“Touch her and you’re dead.”

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[digitalfashionmuseum]

Pale Lilac Silk Evening Dress, ca. 1909, English.

By Pickett.

Worn by Miss Heather Firbank.

Victoria and Albert Museum.