#custom calvin klein

[luxuriascloset]

Zendaya wearing customCalvin Klein for the premiere of Challengers in Rome, Italy, on April 8, 2024.

[teaboot]

We get a lot of bad customers at my retail job but i think my favourites are the couples where the dude is like 45 years old wearing a snapback with the sticker on, "Cocaine and Caviar" hoodie with the Calvin Klein sweatpants and blown out hand tattoos and the girlfriend has the super saturated box dye lip injections full face Kardashian makeup inch long acrylics and platform heels and they come in together at like 3pm on a weekday to steal beef jerky, and when you find them on Facebook they've got 20+ heavy filter selfies together like "He's my King/She's my Queen" matching tattoos and if you confront them about hiding $3 energy drinks and false eyelashes in her purse they act like they run the streets but they drive a 1999 Toyota Corolla with one mismatched door no front fender and gold rims they bought on Amazon. Like girl he just got laid off from the Jiffy Lube and you were caught shoplifting from Dollar Tree, you're not Bonny and Clyde, you're Brandine and Cletus, and you're being removed from the Walmart

[hysteria-things]

BIRTHDAY BOY

also based off of this

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!nate x stripper!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: for his 21st, nate goes to the strip club with his two best friends.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, drinking, semi-public, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, gagging, p in v, handsome/good boy kink, unprotected sex, cream pie

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,370

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: day THREE of nate week!

let’s pretend that today is yesterday🤫

shoutout to @stellarsturns for the idea <3

boston’s local strip club was the last place nate wanted to go to for his 21st, but chris and matt insisted on bringing him. for understandable reasons, nick decided to stay home and wait for them to get back to have some birthday cake.

this isn’t his scene at all, and to be honest, he’s freaked out. not because of the half-naked girls dancing on poles, but because this isn’t… him.

he wanted to stay at the triplet’s house to celebrate, but according to chris and matt; that was boring.

poor nate got left all alone, watching with wide eyes as the dancer did their thing on the stage in front of him. the other two left and said ‘we’re coming back with a surprise!’ whatever that means.

“nate, dude!” chris slurs loudly over the music, his two friends stumbling back to the table they’re sitting at. “look who we got for you.”

“this is— uh…” matt trails off.

you wave. “cherry.”

“damn straight.” matt says, sipping on his beer. “happy birthday, man. we paid her ahead of time.”

holding your hand out, nate’s silent as he grabs on with his shaky and sweaty one. you can feel that he’s squeezing tight, but he doesn’t notice. you don’t mind, though, and instead start walking to one of the many private rooms. “don’t have too much fun!” chris laughs, cheering until his voice fades.

nate didn’t realize how much his head was pounding until he got into the room, the vibration hurting like crazy. the music is muffled, voices from others outside the door. “sit.” you demand softly, and he does.

he takes a good look at your very revealing two-piece, cash that he assumes is the money chris and matt gave you sits under the strap of your bra. avoiding eye contact, he glances around the room. he’s so intimidated by you, especially when he was standing. you’re much taller than him in those tall heels.

“you’re intimidated.” you point out as if you’re reading his mind.

ain’t that the truth.

taking your acrylic thumb, you graze it over his bottom lip. without thinking, he opens his mouth the tiniest bit. he’s looking at you now, mesmerized by your beauty. “your friends told me it’s your birthday.” you say innocently. “how old are you turning, handsome?”

he clears his throat, stammering syllables before he gets the words out. “t-twenty-one.”

nodding, you hum before straddling his lap, your clothed pussy rubbing on the bulge in his pants. he wants to touch you, but he doesn’t know if he can. your hands run from the sides of his head down to his chest, grinding slowly.

he grunts, rutting his hips subconsciously. “s-sorry.” he stutters, but then does it again. his cheeks are red like a tomato. “i-i’m sorry.”

sighing, you start to leave open-mouthed soft kisses down his neck. he groans, the aching boner rubbing your clit the right way. rutting his hips once more, he whines. “i’m so—”

“it’s highly against the rules to fuck customers.” you say between kisses. “but because you’re the birthday boy… i’ll make you an exception.”

you hover on the ground, licking and biting your lips as you stare into his pleading eyes while you unbuckle his pants.

there’s already a wet spot forming through his calvin klein’s. he’s just about cumming in his underwear already. “aw, pretty boy. you’re already making a mess in your boxers.” you tease innocently.

when you start to kiss his hard-on, he jolts from the sensitivity. his hands rush to the hem, pulling down the remains of his bottoms in a whine.

so needy.

his dick is red, the hardness of it looking painful the more you stare at it. you lick the pre-cum from his slit, pumping your hand and swallowing the amount you can fit in your mouth.

lolling his head back, his mouth hangs open from the warmth. god blessed you with no gag reflex, so this is going to be a piece of cake. his eyes roll back each time you bob down.

your throat morphs into the shape of him, gulping as your saliva moistens his base. you notice his nails claw at his thigh. he wants to grip your hair, but he also doesn’t want to hurt you.

to tease him, you moan to send some vibration throughout his body. he thrusts up into your mouth from the suddenness, but you keep going.

the softness of his hips moving upward has him moaning like a mess. “oh, fuck. oh, fuck.”

his dick twitches, pelvis shuttering before shooting his load down your throat. that doesn’t stop you, though. “w-wait.” he whines, trying to push your head away. you don’t budge.

in fact, you move back to his tip, kitty-licking the rest of his cum off of it before spitting. his breath hitches, legs quivering from the feeling. your plump lips move to the side of his dick, sloppily licking the remains of his orgasm that dripped down.

angling yourself differently, you take him to the point where all of him now fits in your mouth.

“wait!” he cries again, eyes becoming watery. “it’s t-too sensitive.”

even though he’s complaining, he takes each side of your head and guides you nice and deep on his cock; nose touching his pubic bone. “it hurts.” he whimpers, forcing your head to go faster.

nate feels so pathetic because of how fast his second orgasm approaches. he’s squirming and twitching like crazy.

“i’m going to cum again.” he pants, hooded eyes looking into your doe-like ones.

a few gulps later, you stay put on his dick while his spurts of cum land on your tastebuds. it’s still coming out of his slit when you take your mouth off with a pop noise.

you get up from the floor, his eyes staring at what your hands are doing as he catches his breath. you reach for the front clip on your bra, take it off, and let it fall to the floor.

then, you remove your panties, bunching them into a ball. his mouth dangles open in complete awe with your body.

you take your time to walk over and lean over him, smirking when all he seems to look at is your breasts. “you’ve been too noisy.” you state. “i think somebody needs to be gagged.”

before he can answer, you shove your panties into his mouth. you start to sit on his dick, nate’s panting getting more intense the further down you go.

you moan lowly, lifting yourself to the tip and plopping back down. he sniffles, you continuing those actions. you run your hands through his hair, looking at his face of pleasure each time you bounce.

the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs is covering up his muffled whimpers and moans. tears stream down his cheeks, a choked sob flowing through the panties blocking his lips.

“you’re so handsome.” you coo, the eye contact turning you on even more as you wipe the tears. his blue orbs are dark, the lids fluttering closed at how your bare pussy feels.

you can’t help but moan as well from the squelching noise that portrays. the tips of your fingers run through his hair, peppering kisses on his jawline. “you want to be a good boy for me?” you ask.

he nods frantically. “uh huh.”

“be a good boy and cum for me, yeah?” you say, moving faster, causing you to squeal when your g-spot gets hit. your dominance is starting to slip. “you-you have too much of a handsome face.”

his eyes widen when he figures out what you mean by that, but he doesn’t care. he grabs your hips and starts to thrust into you, the both of you whining as you reach your highs. “that’s right, handsome. c-cum in me.”

“mhm.” he moans, following your instructions.

you keep going until you collapse on top of him, removing your underwear from his mouth. grabbing the money his friends gave you, you hold it up and get off of his lap. he’s trying to catch his breath when you put your foot next to his leg to hunch over.

“free of charge.” you smile. “happy birthday.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07

[vixonspixels]

The Ultimate Default Underwear Collection ( REWORK )

So as I'm sure you remember a while back I released this, but unfortunately two of the sets featured in the catalogue had to be removed due to breaking a creators T.O.U

I removed the files from my page but the images were still on the catalogue which was very confusing for some when it came to downloading them and also annoying for myself ( I have to have everything organised )

So I decided to fully rework the catalogue along with adding SIX new sets for you also, of course in a bunch of different swatches

The first two sets and the keeper boxers are from the SxC Lovebirds collection by @caio and @serenity so full credit goes to them and their beautiful underwear. The last set of boxers and matching joggers are mine, they say calvin klein in simlish

These will override the default underwear in game so make sure to only download one set at a time as you can only have one default in your game at a time.

Make sure to head over to their respective pages to check out more of their collections, or even just to download the non default versions 🤍

All sets are fully BGC and come with custom thumbnails

PLEASE NOTE

The joggers are not a default item so you can download them regardless of what default you choose. They are intended as lounge joggers and I made them to match the default boxers

Yes I'm aware there is a vast amount of defaults here, it wouldn't be an ultimate collection if there wasn't 😂

Available for free on my patreon page here

[octuscle]

My boss has been giving me shit ever since I got this job. If I could just put him in his place for one day…

Your boss's day is off to a great start. Power cut. And the Tesla is not charged. The only way to get to the office is by bus and suburban train. He hates public transport. But what should he do? At the bus stop, he pulls out his cell phone to buy his ticket. All around him are schoolchildren and wetbacks on their way to work. Damn, did he pocket the cell phone of his cleaning lady from Colombia? All in Spanish. And the phone far from his own brand new show-off model. And already has a few scratches too... Maldita sea! Why can't he buy a ticket now? Tarjeta bloqueada. That's all he needs. His not-so-clean trousers hang low on his narrow hips. The waistband of his fake Calvin Klein briefs is clearly visible. When the bus arrives, he rummages in his deep trouser pockets for a few dollars. Just enough to buy a ticket.

When your boss changes trains, he realizes that his briefcase is gone. Where the hell did the hip bag come from instead? He looks inside. Tobacco, cigarette papers, a few crumpled dollar bills, some weed. And condoms. Lots and lots of condoms. His gaze falls on his reflection in the window pane. Mierda, soy un espalda mojada. ¡Un sucio y apestoso espalda mojada! Instead of his spotless white shirt, he wears a dirty wifebeater. And the jacket has become a sleeveless open plaid shirt. Not entirely clean either. His feet are in dirty biker boots. A couple of silver chains around his neck. Shit, something's not going well. When he arrives at the station, he walks towards the toilets. He needs a mirror. Sporty and dynamic, he jumps over the turnstile at the entrance. He has no more money to use the toilets. There are the mirrors. And that's no longer your boss. Okay, the other hustlers at the station all call Juan "jefe" because he has the biggest cock. But apart from that, he's nothing but a well-trained wetback hustler.

One of the other hustlers comes up to jefe and asks for a fag. Juan panics. Should he be nice to the scum? Juan will probably need help. On the other hand, the mere presence of this gay trash makes him nauseous. At least he speaks English. Juan decides to be friendly. And he tries to reply that they can share a fag. He replies in broken English with a heavy Spanish accent. The other hustler thanks him with a fist bump. He doesn't seem surprised by the language. Juan builds a cigarette, takes a first drag and passes the fag on. While they smoke in a corner of the train toilet, a punter wanders around them. Juan doesn't think much about it. He needs money. And it can't get much worse than this. His eyes and those of the punter meet. The rest happens without a word. A few minutes later, Juan kneels on the piss-strewn floor of the toilet and swallows the cum of a strange man. And he's a pro, he gets a hard-on even though the punter is rather disgusting.

It gets quieter from 10:00 onwards. The rush hour is over. There's nothing to do at the station until 16:00. Juan counts his takings. 120 dollars. Not bad. He joins the other hustlers at the kiosk in front of the station, smokes a cigarette and drinks a beer. He needs to get rid of that damn taste of cum from old fat white men. Then Juan has to go to the wholesale market and clean the market halls. He's definitely no longer the boss here. The job is also badly paid, but he has to prove he has a regular job so as not to lose his residence permit. And there are showers for the employees. If he goes back to the station sweaty and dirty, he can forget about good sales.

Juan is just getting out of the shower when a regular customer contacts him via Facetime. He asks how his favorite slut is doing. Juan poses a little in front of the cell phone camera. He doesn't understand English very well, but he knows that his customer gets horny when he shows off his hairy armpits. And the customer pays well. Most of the time, Juan even gets a bit to eat. And if he's lucky, he can even spend the night with the client and doesn't have to go to the dirty dormitory where Juan has currently rented a bed. But if he's not lucky, at least he knows where his place is.

Pic of your jefe found @marechais 

[lostinribscore]

Zendaya wearing custom Calvin Klein at the challengers premiere in Roma

[nestito702]

Jeremy wears a custom look by Calvin Klein Atelier, designed in New York City

For the 2024 Golden Globe Awards.

[sjsmith56]

Customer Service

Summary: Bucky’s former girlfriend helps him buy a new suit, but he’s there for other reasons. First part of a two part series.

Length: 3.6 K

Characters: Unnamed OFC, named minor OFC, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson.

Warnings: Bucky showing up unannounced at her workplace, OFC remembering the not so good times, anxiety.

Author notes: Once upon a time I worked retail. An ex-spouse or lover showing up unannounced was always problematic. I’m not terribly knowledgeable about what men’s suits go with an athletic build, although my research did lean to a preference for the Hugo Boss and Calvin Klein labels.

🥾 👔 💔

“There’s a customer here that wants to speak to a manager,” said Lynette, the clerk at the customer service desk, sticking her head in the door of the office. She had a big smirk on her face. “I’m just warning you to be careful.”

I pulled my glasses off to glare at her as I really didn’t have time to deal with a grumpy customer. She shrugged.

“That’s why you get paid the big bucks.”

I followed her out and turned the corner where the most beautiful man I had ever seen leaned on the counter, someone I knew well and hadn’t expected to ever see again. Tall, broad-shouldered, with soft dark brown hair, rugged good looks, and a pair of blue eyes that pierced me as sharp as a knife. He had a smirk on his face as if he knew exactly the effect he had on me.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I said, trying to modulate my voice so that I didn’t give away that I knew him. “How can I be of assistance?”

He looked at me in surprise. I was going to be like that was I? Well, two could play that game.

“I would like to return these work boots,” he said, in a manner that indicated he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “They fell apart the first time I used them at work.”

There was a black garbage bag on the counter that I assumed held the boots in question. Before I looked in it, I looked at him, trying to gauge if he was going to be one of those customers to me, in front of a witness. You know the type, someone who buys something to replace the worn-out ones he already has, then tries to pass the worn-out ones off as the newer model in order to get his money back. It’s a scam, and I could always pick out the type of person who would do that, which he wasn’t but it would be just like him to push the boundaries, trying to make me react to his being there. Internally I really hoped he wouldn’t go this far to punish me for ending it with him but his manner, although brusque, had none of the tells of someone who was trying to make life hard for me.

“Do you have your original receipt, sir?” I asked politely.

He nodded, pulled his wallet out of his jeans and opened it, revealing a carefully folded receipt that he handed to me, from his gloved hand. Lynette noticed the glove but stifled her reaction to it, except I could tell he noticed, as his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was a little bothered. Briefly, his eyes flickered to mine. Had I not told anyone about us?

Swallowing, I opened the bag and looked inside at a pair of boots that had definitely seen better days. Although the top portion of them and the tread looked fairly new it was obvious that whatever mission he used them for was too much for the boots to handle. In several places the top part of the boot had pulled away from the sole. The stitching had also split in several of the stress points. I could only imagine what he went through that had caused this much damage to the boots. It was one of the reasons we broke up; nights of imagining the mission, wondering if he was alright but not hearing from him, not until he walked through the door all bruised and battered, sometimes still bleeding because he didn’t want to bother the medical staff. Meaning that I had to patch him up and deal with the stoic suffering he inflicted on himself by not believing he was worth being looked after.

“May I ask what line of work you’re in?” I asked politely. “These were new but seem to have been subjected to a lot of ….” I didn’t want to say the abuse word. “Um … stress.”

“I have a stressful job,” he answered, still playing the part of the customer who was a stranger to me. As if he hadn’t ever touched me in ways that no other man had; had never told me he loved me, who hadn’t argued with me sometimes just for the sake of arguing and liked seeing me all fired up because it meant the makeup sex after would be incredible. “It sometimes involves a lot of … running, jumping, kicking, and often moving through uneven terrain of all types.”

“Okay,” I replied, taking in a breath and deciding I couldn’t do this anymore. “I’ll authorize the refund, since your receipt shows you’ve only had them a week but obviously this brand won’t stand up to the pressures of your job. I would suggest you try a specialty footwear store that can provide something sturdier for you.”

His face changed when he realized I wasn’t going to prolong this moment anymore. Mentioning he should buy elsewhere could also be taken that I didn’t want to see him come back here, to where I worked. I entered the refund in the cash register, asking him to insert his bank card to finish the procedure, then had him sign our copy of the new receipt. I looked at the signature, J.B. Barnes, then at him.

“Is there a problem?” He looked at me with his eyebrows raised; as if he was willing me to say something, anything that he could respond to.

“No, no problem.” I made the mistake of getting caught by those eyes, becoming a little lost in them. It wouldn’t have been the first time those eyes made me change my mind, but not this time. “You have nice handwriting.”

“Thank you,” he smiled sadly, making my heart flutter a little. “I appreciate the good customer service.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, then smiled my customer service smile as he turned around and walked away.

That should have been the end of it, except he turned around and looked at me one more time when he met up with Sam Wilson. He almost waved at me, but Bucky shook his head at him, and instead he just put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, in support. I heard Lynette gasp.

“That was Captain America,” she exclaimed. She grabbed the receipt that he signed. “That meant he was Bucky Barnes. He looked at you.”

“Of course, he looked at me. I was processing his refund.”

She wouldn’t stop talking about it, so I went out on the floor, wanting to get away from her incessant blathering about how I should go out with Bucky as it was obvious to her that he was sweet on me. Although I normally worked as a manager in the clothing department, I sometimes acted as customer service manager when that person had a day off. I still had a duty to walk around the store, making sure everything was working the way it should. That’s when I saw him again, Bucky, that is. He and Sam were in men’s wear, looking at shirts. By the sounds of it they were having a disagreement.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked.

They both turned to look at me then shared a look that can only be described as polar opposites. Sam grinned at Bucky, who scowled at him.

“He needs a dress shirt,” said Sam, playing along for the benefit of the male clerk on duty in men’s wear. “There’s a little problem in that he thinks a button cuff will be too tight. But he hasn’t worn a French cuff since the 1940s and thinks they’re old fashioned.”

“On the contrary,” I replied. “A French cuff is very fashionable. Personally, I think it offers a classy look to a man. Are you wearing a suit or a blazer?”

“Suit,” said Bucky, who seemed taller now that he wasn’t blocked by the customer service counter, taller than the last time he held me; broader than the last time I placed my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, sexier than the last time we made love.

“What colour of suit and what colour of shirt do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t even have a suit yet.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“A formal event that he doesn’t want to go to because he doesn’t have a date,” smirked Sam. Trust him to be blunt.

“Sam,” glared Bucky. He turned to me, looking a little flustered. “Sorry, I really don’t know what I want. He’s right. I haven’t bought a suit since the 1940s and the one suit I had then was what I could afford.”

He looked a little lost, not that I could blame him. Outside of his missions, his wardrobe consisted of black jeans, blue jeans, long and short sleeve T-shirts, and Henley shirts, and those plain black combat boots that he wore constantly. He never wanted to go out anywhere that required a suit; always saying that he just wanted to stay in, as I was all the entertainment he needed. It was nice until it became stifling. The male clerk was helping another customer, and I suddenly didn’t want Bucky to leave. When we were together, I offered to help him buy a suit, but he always turned me down, saying he didn’t want to be my customer. But if this was the only way I could show him that he would be more than that then I was going to take my shot.

“Would you like me to dress you?” I blurted out.

“Excuse me?” His eyes opened wide. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry,” I smiled. “What I mean is, would you like me to help you find the right suit and shirt for this event?”

“I don’t want to take you away from your manager duties,” he answered, still looking unsure.

“Our store prides itself on its customer service,” I stated. “It would be my pleasure to help you find the right clothing for this event, Mr. Barnes.”

“She knows what she’s doing, Bucky,” said Sam, in a low voice. “I think you should listen to the lady.”

“Alright.” Bucky’s acceptance of my offer was said softly but loud enough for both me and Sam to hear.

I called up to the office to advise them I was helping a customer in men’s wear, taking measurements for a new suit so I wouldn’t be available for the next half hour. Then I pulled a card out of a drawer and wrote James Buchanan Barnes in the Customer Name portion.

“I’ll mark all of your measurements here,” I said. “That way, you won’t have to be measured again if you ever decide to buy another suit with us. It will also mark your preferences in suit style, shirt style, colours, and shoe size.”

“Shoe size?” he asked.

“You will need a pair of dress shoes,” I replied, looking down at his combat boots, all worn and scuffed. “Those won’t exactly complete the look you’re going for.”

“No, I guess not,” he agreed. “What do you need me to do?”

“Well, we can start with taking your height and weight measurement,” I began. “We have a scale here, unless you’re pretty sure of what you weigh.”

His eyes went soft. “6 feet even, 220 lbs., it doesn’t change.”

I wrote it down. “We need to take your body measurements; in one of the dressing rooms if you want privacy as you’ll have to take your jacket off and your Henley. We can choose a shirt first then wear that while I take the suit measurements, so the jacket fits properly.”

“Let’s do that,” he agreed, and waited for me to lead him to one of the larger dressing rooms.

He took his jacket off, then his Henley. Sam took them while he sat in a chair. I got the measuring tape and stood in front of Bucky, before wrapping it around his neck, taking the neck measurement.

“How are you?” he asked, in a low voice meant just for me.

“Managing,” I answered, getting a slight grin from him at my pun. “You?”

“Existing,” he replied, making me look up at him, and noticing how tired he seemed.

I took his arm measurement and wrote both measurements down on the card. “So, what type of shirt would you like? Classic fit, with room for your shoulders? Close fitting to display your physique? Button cuffs, French cuffs?”

“Why don’t you pick out some suitable choices, so I can see them on me?” he suggested.

Nodding, I left him and Sam there and went out to our selection, looking for some candidates. I picked white ones, thinking that if he wanted a coloured shirt, he could grab one with the same size and features. Taking them into the dressing room I was surprised to see he had his T-shirt off.

His physique never failed to impress me. His vibranium arm and shoulder had been made to match his right arm and shoulder, and the Wakandans had done a superb job of duplicating the musculature of that limb. As I removed the updated classic look shirt from its package, then removed the pins holding it together, he watched me, standing close enough so that I was aware of his scent. That mixture of citrus and sandalwood, from a cologne I gave to him on his birthday, brought back memories of burying my face into his neck during our more intimate moments, breathing in his unique essence. Fumbling with one of the pins, I stopped and took a breath, recenterring myself before handing the shirt to him. Without a word, he took it and put it on then buttoned it up. I handed him some cufflinks to go with the French cuffs. Taking the glove off of his left hand he attached that cufflink first, then the next one before standing in front of the mirror and taking in the fit.

“That’s almost perfect,” I said. “The length is enough to tuck in, without the threat of it coming out. The shoulders are snug enough to show your form but roomy enough for your muscles to move. The French cuffs give you a tailored look with enough room not to bind your wrists.”

Sam coughed and we both looked at him, at his timing. “I didn’t say anything.”

With the shirt on I began measuring Bucky for the suit jacket, starting with the chest, over arm, neck, and sleeve length. Then I continued with the shoulders, waistcoat length, jacket length, bicep, wrist and stomach. The next set of measurements were for the pants, waist, hips, thigh, knee, then the rise, running the tape from the front of waist down over the crotch and up to his back. We both glared at Sam who pointedly looked elsewhere for that measurement as well as the inseam measurement, before finishing off with the out seam.

“We can go look at the suit styles,” I said. “I think with your broad shoulders and slim waist that you should stick with Hugo Boss or a Calvin Klein suit. They’ll need minimal tailoring to be fitted properly. You can leave the dress shirt on, while you try the jacket on the sales floor.”

Both men came out and I showed them the suits, not surprised when Bucky gravitated towards the black ones. Colour was hard for him, as he always thought it made him too visible. The arm already did that, in his opinion. He tried on several jackets in his size before he found one that he liked, nodding his head as he looked at himself in the mirror on the floor. I found his waist size in the matching slacks and draped them over my arm.

“Ties?” I asked, walking towards our display. “You have your choice of plain, patterned, paisley, stripes.”

“Plain, black,” stated Bucky. “Could I try a black shirt as well?”

As much as I wanted him to experiment a little, I also knew he would look stunning in a monochrome suit ensemble of black. I found a black shirt to match the white one he wore then took them back to the dressing room. While he put them on, Sam came with me to the shoe department to find a pair of shoes. As soon as we were some distance away, he stopped and hugged me.

“How are you?” His eyes were full of concern. “This must be hard for you.”

I shrugged. “I miss him, even with all of his quirks. He can’t just show up here unannounced. Why is he really here? He wouldn’t even step foot into the store before even though I offered to help him find clothes many times.”

“I know.” He looked back towards the men’s wear department. “This formal event is mandatory for him. We’re going to the White House to receive a commendation and attend a banquet. It’s made his anxiety level go up through the roof. You always had a way to keep him level. It was my idea to come here and hopefully get your help. The work boots still had to be returned. He just bought them on impulse when he came here by himself the first time to ask for your help but couldn’t find you.”

I began walking to the shoe department; suddenly angered that Bucky was only here so I could make him feel better. Sam hurried after me.

“Seriously? You thought I could give him an emergency psychological bandage to get him through an anxiety episode? You’re better than that, Sam.”

“He needs you. He’s pretty lost without you.”

I could feel the need to cry bubbling up from my stomach and stopped at a display of men’s shoes, plain black Oxfords. Picking up a pair I held them up to Sam.

“What do you think? He’s going to look great in the suit and these will be just the thing to finish it off.”

“Yeah, he’ll like them,” replied Sam. “Size 12.”

I went in back to find the shoe, taking the moment to compose myself before coming out with the box. We began walking back to men’s wear when Sam stopped me again. With a sigh I looked at him, feeling almost at the end of my tether.

“Tell me the truth, are you happier without him?”

What an unfair question to ask. I wasn’t happy. I was miserable but I just didn’t know if I had it in me to put up with everything else. The moodiness, the lack of communication, the emotional withdrawal that happened around every anniversary of his fall, the possessiveness … the good things we had never seemed to outweigh the negative. Without even answering Sam knew what I would say, and he touched my arm, then nodded his head sadly. As we stepped into the dressing room Bucky stood there in the suit, wearing the black shirt, with the black tie, and the black pocket square poking out of the chest pocket. I took the shoes out of the box, doing up the laces, then kneeled in front of Bucky, helping him on with the shoes, before pinning the length of the trousers to fit the shoes and stepping back to look at the almost finished product.

“There you go,” I said. “You look great.”

“I feel good,” he replied. “Thank you.” His eyes flickered to Sam.

“You do look good,” said his friend. “The all-black look suits you.”

“I’ll take it,” said Bucky. “All of it, and the white shirt as well, with a tie of your choice. Just so I have two looks.”

“I’ll pick something out while you get changed,” I said. “Then I’ll meet you at the desk. The slacks can be left here for our tailor to shorten. They’ll be ready in two days.”

I found a tie, a paisley design, black with silver and gold accents, that matched the colours of his vibranium arm. There was even a pocket square to match, and I tossed that on the pile. I entered the information of the suit on the card. It would be entered into our database so that anyone could help him find what he needed in the future.

Sam came out with the suit, shirts and shoes, placing them on the desk. Bucky came out a few moments later, seeming a little more withdrawn. After entering the work order for the slacks, I handed him a claim ticket. It seemed odd that in this digital age we still used paper claim tickets, but it was what our customers liked, as part of the service. I tallied up the total, presenting the amount to Bucky, and he didn’t bat an eye as he pulled a black credit card out of his wallet. It seemed the superhero business had finally started paying off. As he entered the code on the terminal, I placed the suit jacket and shirts into a suit bag, the shoes and ties in a paper shopping bag. Then the receipt was handed over, and I looked at him, wanting to say something other than my usual customer service ramble.

“You should launder the shirts before you wear them, just so they’re softer on your skin,” I suggested. “In the shoe department are some protective sprays that will help keep them looking good in wet weather. You can also polish them with regular shoe polish.” Those blue eyes met mine, boring into me, maybe for the last time. “I hope your event goes well. You’ll look great and you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you for your help,” he smiled softly, seemingly accepting that it was over.

He gathered up his bags and stood awkwardly for a moment before turning away. This time he didn’t look back.

Part 2>>

Short Fiction Masterlist

Tumblr Masterlist

Please reblog if you liked this.

[wttcsms]

🏐 wttcsms written works, haikyuu ;

last updated feb 23, 2024

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles and i can't make you stay (in this broken place) — ( nsfw )  i sin too much to pray for you — no one can believe that one of the most powerful crime lords in the underground world of japan, atsumu miya, is wrapped around the finger of a naive girl like you, but love doesn’t really care about boundaries anyway. take care of you — ( nsfw ) atsumu just wants to give you everything he can offer: an easy job, a brand new car, a baby… wanting was enough (for me, it was enough) — ( sfw ) "He carries your confession home in the to-go box from the diner. It’s heavy, matching the American theme of burgers containing his weight in meat and fries slick with oil and grease. The two of you are walking together, and he wants to ask you, specifically, what did you mean when you told the team you liked me?" paper rings — ( sfw ) the tiffany blue ring box currently resides in the second drawer of his night stand, unceremoniously buried underneath several pairs of calvin klein briefs. when you know, you know — ( sfw ) atsumu considers marriage to be a trap, until he realizes that even a lifetime commitment to you isn’t long enough

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : domesticity with atsumu — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : ex!atsumu seeing you're engaged to oikawa — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : how atsumu says i love you — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : atsumu and you having "non-dates" — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : atsumu's green flags — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : dating atsumu — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : dad!atsumu — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : mastermind inspired — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : atsumu randomly showing you his camera roll — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : in a world of boys, he's a gentleman — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : atsumu as a college interviewer tiktoker — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : husband atsumu using ur purse — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : you're the first person atsumu wants to tell anything to — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : the miya divide — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : girl dad atsumu — ( sfw )

multipart afterglow — ( nsfw ) finding out that his hot supermodel girlfriend is dumping him for some baseball player? that sucks. finding out via her red carpet debut with her new man as her plus one? sucks a bit more. having this happen to him the same day he just lost the last game of the season? yeah, it’s starting to feel like the universe has it out for him at this point, right? but atsumu miya is nothing if not petty, childish, and immature. he’ll get back at her. after all, there’s a secret dating app created by publicists and agents that pair up perfect matches for brightening up any celebrity’s public image. all atsumu has to do is pay a pretty sum of money to convince the media (and mainly his ex) that atsumu miya is still on top of the world and living his best life with the best (albeit, fake) girlfriend ever. unfortunately for him, his perfect match just so happens to be you — his first girlfriend, his highschool sweetheart turned sour, and the first girl who ever broke his heart. you know what they say: when it rains, it pours.

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles customer satisfaction — ( nsfw ) you go above and beyond for your customers...

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : engaged to oikawa when atsumu's your ex (yikes) — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : ex husband!oikawa still in love with you — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : ice skating au — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : royal au — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : learning about the tradition of giving the first slice of cake to who you love the most — ( sfw )

multipart forever golden — ( nsfw ) everything is going fine: you just graduated with your first degree, you get to work alongside your older brother for the 2021 olympics, and you think now might be the perfect time to finally jumpstart your dating life (atsumu miya certainly seems cute...). there's no time for you to think about torn acls, shattered dreams, and the fact that this was never your original goal in life. and there's certainly no time for you to worry about tooru oikawa, the boy who practically grew up in your house now turned into the man who poses as your team's fiercest competitor. you definitely don't have the free time to remember how he's the first boy who ever had (and subsequently broke) your heart. or that the two of you went from practically joined at the hip to total strangers for the past four years. you don't even bother wondering why he suddenly wants to repair the broken bond between you two, and you totally don't give in to him (except for the times that you do... which is almost all the time).  yeah. everything is going fine.

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles rapture — ( nsfw ) his tenacity and stamina prove to be a deadly combination indeed. you know you make my cold heart warm with a touch — ( nsfw ) how else can kiyoomi show you how close to his heart he keeps you than by fucking into you so deep, you’re pretty sure you can feel him reaching for yours?

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : how kiyoomi says i love you — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles as the world caves in — ( sfw ) they say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. if that’s the case, then that explains why kageyama only sees you.

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   :  kags' act of service — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : tobio craves your attention — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : vampire hunter!reader x vampire!kags — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : he responds to all your texts individually — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈  ✩ ✭

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : domesticity with iwaizumi — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : shoujo concept with iwaizumi — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles it's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender — ( sfw ) you never do get over your first love. / you fell first, he fell harder.

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : domesticity with suna — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀  ✩ ✭

headcanons & concepts ✩��   : marriage of convenience with ushi — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : underground fighter ushi — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles in every universe, it's still you — ( sfw ) in all the universes, in all the different versions of you and kuroo, you’re certain of two things: that he’s always a good person, and that you love him.

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : fake dating au — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : business school academic rivals to lovers — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : kuroo tweet — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : dad!kuroo is the best — ( sfw ) ✩✮   : single!mom reader x kuroo office romance — ( sfw )

multipart get him back! — ( nsfw ) so, in an attempt to get back at your ex - who posted a sex tape of himself cheating on you with your best friend - you decide that you’re going to upload your own film, and it’s going to be even hotter than theirs. you don’t anticipate your class’s teaching assistant being your co-star, especially considering that he’s the one who took your virginity, and after all was said and done, you ran out on him. but there’s no running from him now, especially whenever your tape does better than expected. now, you’re one of the hottest up and coming content creators on the platform, and the cash is too good to let this opportunity go to waste. what starts as a petty revenge scheme results in a lucrative business partnership with three simple rules: profits are split 50/50, all videos remain faceless, and this newfound partnership means absolutely nothing. just because you two fuck on a daily basis does not mean you’re friends, and you’re certainly not lovers. then again, things hardly ever are that simple.

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles paper rings — ( sfw ) shinsuke kita is a creature of habit.

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : influencer!reader x kita — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles xoxo — ( nsfw ) just thinking about recreating the infamous maison margiela kiss button-down shirt for your boyfriend osamu

headcanons & concepts ✩✮   : the miya divide — ( sfw )

( 🏐 )  ⸺ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈  ✩ ✭

one shots & drabbles everything's blurry but you — ( sfw ) barely in your baby twenties, and you think life is so over for you. then, while at rock bottom, you run into futakuchi, and realize that 1) he’s kinda pathetic, and 2) someone else’s pathetic-ness totally distracts you from your own. so, guess you two are in it together.

[inyourwildestdreams22]

So Now that the Challengers Press Tour is over, what was your favorite outfit Z wore on this press tour? I made a poll cause I’m curious

Sydney: Custom Lacoste -Custom Loewe

Paris : Louis Vuitton, Spring/Summer 2013- Louis Vuitton, Spring/Summer 1999- Custom Louis Vuitton

Rome: Custom Loewe-Custom Calvin Klein 

London: Vivienne Westwood Spring/Summer 1994- Custom Thom Browne

Monte-Carlo: Brunello Cucinelli Fall 2024- Custom On

Milan: Ralph Lauren Spring/Summer 1992- Custom 16 Arlington

London: Custom Vera Wang- Custom Celia kritharioti

Rest of the options on the reblog

[rebelangelsims]

Edith Billboards

I wanted to make some custom billboards with my model Edith! I did two that are Calvin Klein (One with Edith and Min-Joon) and then I did two as CC creators @pralinesims and @simandy for those who don't want irl bands in their game. If you guys like the idea I'll do more like it

Please note previews taken with custom in game lighting with reshade and outside on a sunny day. Please also note if they are placed inside they'll be bright and hard to see the photos (They have a fixed lighting)

Download (Mediafire) // Simfileshare

Thank you @alwaysfreecc

[friendofgeorgeharrison]

George Harrison Drawing (2000)

George created this drawing of Danny Ferrington's workshop while the two were in Hawaii together, and signed it "Keoki" Hawaiian for "George." He inscribed the back,"To Danny, Maui May 9th 2000, from George Best Wishes". Danny has been called the "Calvin Klein of guitars", and has been the go-to guy for exquisite custom guitars and also in George’s case, ukuleles. The art is mixed media with added cloth and glitter on paper. (x)

[gainingfiction]

Thrifting

Summary: Ali works at a second-hand store. Evan is a regular customer who donates clothes as he outgrows them. As Evan’s size increases, so does the attraction between the two men.

~

S

Evan adjusted the waistband of his slim-fitting track pants as he approached the storefront, a garbage bag of old clothes clutched in his free hand. Like most of the clothes he was giving away, the track pants were extra-small, and they didn’t fit quite as well as they had a few months earlier. They were getting harder to pull over his butt, and the elastic was starting to leave an imprint around his waist when he stripped them off at the end of the day. When his friends asked him to go thrifting, he decided it was as good a time as any to size up to a small.

He followed his friends into the store. They were college classmates, all stylish girls with elaborate, glittering eye makeup, baggy jeans, and crop tops that showed off their toned midriffs. Evan liked to keep up with fashion, too, and generally took care of himself, at least in the skincare and haircare department. But since getting into his first long-term relationship, he may have let his diet and gym regime slide a little, hence the need for some new threads.

The store was quiet when they entered, the air smelling vaguely musty. The first thing Evan noticed was the cashier. He looked to be in his mid 20s, slightly older than Evan, and tall: about a head taller than Evan, who stood at 5’7”. He was dressed in a loose-fitting graphic tee featuring Blondie, a pair of oversized jeans, and some hightop sneakers from the 80s or 90s. He exhaled a cloud of vape smoke, tucking his Juul into his pocket at the sight of customers.

Evan was instantly smitten, stomach fluttering as he walked up to the counter. When he reached the cash register he noticed the guy’s name tag, identifying him as Ali, and the way his dark eyes seemed so calm and intelligent. He had black curls that fell around his face to about his chin, and a prominent but well-proportioned nose. He gave Evan an easygoing smile as he approached. He was thin, but with a wiry strength that made Evan acutely conscious of the way his stomach had started to brush oh-so-slightly against the front of his form-fitting shirt.

“I have some clothes to give away,” Evan said. “But I didn’t see a donation bin.”

“You can give them here,” Ali said. He accepted the heavy bag with one hand, bicep flexing, and set it behind the counter.

“There’s lots of good stuff there,” Evan said. “It just doesn’t fit great anymore. You know, relationship weight.” He flashed a sheepish grin in Ali’s direction. Why did I say that?

The cashier gave a knowing nod. “Well, thanks so much. Most of the proceeds go to the local animal shelter, so we really appreciate it.” Another easy smile, as the guy coursed a hand through his glossy hair, melting Evan’s heart.

He could have spent the whole day staring, but his friend, Cassie, approached, carrying a sweater. “Evan, check this out! It’s a Calvin Klein quarter-zip in great condition, you should give it a try.”

Evan turned and followed her to the mirror, watching from the corner of his eye as the handsome cashier turned to sift through Evan’s old clothes. He’d have to come shopping here again.

M

Ali pushed rice around his plate, keeping his eye on the time. He had work soon, which gave him a great excuse to ditch his family lunch.

“You coming to my graduation this weekend, bro?” Faisal asked. Ali’s brother was a 26-year-old health nut, who wore a buzzcut and a rotation of tight-fitting v-necks to flatter his gym-trained figure. He’d just finished med school.

“Of course he will be there,” their father answered, before Ali could respond. He was a commanding presence, with a broad belly and a bushy moustache. He kept his thinning gray curls cut short, a relic of army life.

“Not like he’ll have one of his own,” Shadia said, smirking.

Ali rolled his eyes. His little sister had just started work as an engineer, and she loved to look down on Ali’s education, job, apartment, and fashion sense. And since he came out to her, she also made fun of his taste in men, dubbing them “doughy white guys.”

“Be nice,” their mother said. She was laid back, with an average build and culinary skills Ali could only dream of. Before immigrating, she was also an engineer, but now she helped run the family restaurant. “Speaking of nice, I told Noor you will take her daughter out for dinner this weekend. She is a very sweet girl, I know you will like her.”

Ali felt a lump in his throat. The pressure to start a family had been ramping up since he turned 25, and he knew he couldn’t hold his family off forever. Shadia looked at him with concern.

“Sounds great,” he managed.

Then, he said his goodbyes and left for work, eager for some mindless tasks that could distract him from his pushy relations. In the parking lot outside the store, he slipped on his favourite choker and undid his button-down shirt, revealing a loose tank top underneath. He flipped his septum piercing out of his nostrils. Feeling more like himself, Ali walked in, tying a patterned fleece around his waist as he went.

It was boring for a while, but things got a little more interesting a few hours into his shift, when a familiar figure entered. It was the guy from a few months ago, who had come in with his friends. Ali recognized the way his chestnut hair flopped in front of his forehead, and remembered how he’d talked about relationship weight, flashing Ali a shy grin with dazzlingly white teeth. Evan, was it? Ali was pretty sure he’d heard one of the girls call him that.

He entered with an equally handsome and very well-built young man. It had been a few months since his last visit, and Evan’s shirt looked even tighter today than Ali remembered, framing not just his slight belly but a pair of small love handles that poked over the waistband of his pants, forming a little muffin top. Looser clothes might have hidden his pudge completely, but his form-fitting apparel put his extra 20 or so pounds on display.

The two men approached the counter, with the brawny one carrying a bag.

“Another donation?” Ali asked, with a smile.

“Yeah,” Evan said. “Outgrew some more clothes.”

The hunky boyfriend rolled his eyes, slightly. “Are you totally sure you want to give these away? You’ll probably fit back into them soon,” he said.

Evan bit his lip, looking embarrassed. “I don’t know, I can always buy new ones,” he said. He didn’t sound too confident.

Ali accepted the bag, thanked the men, and left them to their shopping. As they walked away, Ali noted the way Evan’s perky bubble butt packed his black denim pants, the curves of each cheek hugged by the taut fabric. He sighed and opened the bag for sorting. Evan’s last donation had been full of extra-small clothes, but this bag was full of smalls and a few mediums, with jeans that went up to 33”. It was all in great condition, and medium was Ali’s size… he’d definitely be buying some of these for himself.

As he separated different types of clothing, Ali watched the two men with silent jealousy. He wondered if Evan would lose weight, as his boyfriend predicted, secretly hoping that he wouldn’t.

L

The bell in the doorway trilled as Evan entered the thrift store. Standing next to Hannah and Cassie, he felt particularly fat, aware of the way his medium shirt cradled his soft belly and love handles, which muffin topped over the waistband of his too-small shorts. In just three months, he had definitively outgrown all of his medium-sized clothes. And when his chubby backside popped the seam at the seat of his pants during work one day, Evan knew he couldn’t keep putting it off: he was overdue for an upgrade.

His breakup with Jeff had been hard. It was the sort of breakup that made Evan lock himself in his room and eat four thousand calories of rocky road ice cream in a single sitting. Jeff had always been shallow, but dumping Evan over an extra 40 pounds was a particularly heavy blow to his self-confidence. And rather than inspire him to get back in shape, it just inspired him to wallow in self-pity, turning his 40-pound weight gain into a 55-pound weight gain. Evan now weighed 197 pounds, by far the heaviest he’d ever been. He wasn’t proud to be a size large, didn’t like that his pants were at least six inches larger than his former waist size, but he couldn’t live in denial forever. Especially when his added poundage was pushing his clothes beyond their breaking point.

He felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness when he saw Ali at the cash register. He looked totally gorgeous in a slim-fitting bowling shirt, and he now sported a short, well-styled beard. Evan was secretly hoping his favourite cashier would be working, since it would give him a chance to ask Ali out.

Evan approached the checkout, toting his bag of undersized clothes. His palms were clammy as he stood in front of Ali, heart pounding.

“More donations?” Ali asked. His voice was so soft and smooth that Evan felt a little more at ease.

“You know me,” Evan said. He didn’t need to explain it anymore; the evidence was written across his widening torso and burgeoning hips.

“Well, thanks so much,” Ali said, taking the bag in his strong arms.

Evan hesitated. Now was his chance. “Hey, I was just wondering if… would you maybe want to go out sometime?”

The way Ali’s face dropped made Evan feel self-conscious, like his impossible request had embarrassed a guy who was way out of his league. “I’m, uh, engaged, actually,” Ali said. His tone was bland, without a trace of excitement in his voice. If anything, he sounded disappointed.

Evan kept a smile on his face, to mask his own disappointment. “Oh wow, congratulations! When’s the wedding?”

“We haven’t set a date yet,” Ali said, without hesitating. “Fatima wants a spring wedding, I think.”

“Huh,” Evan said. He was surprised to hear that Ali was engaged to a woman, but he did his best to hide it. His gaydar was usually spot-on; maybe this guy was bi? “Well, I’m sure it’ll be lovely. I bet you’ll make her very happy.”

Ali smiled weakly. “Thanks. Oh, by the way, I don’t know if you like kebab or shawarma, but my family has a restaurant downtown. I do shifts there sometimes, so you might see me around, if you’re ever out for a bite.” Ali gave him the address.

“Middle Eastern food is my favourite,” Evan grinned. He made a mental note to check it out, and not just for the food.

Donation complete, Evan returned to the racks of clothes. The rejection stung, but at least Ali hadn’t shut him out entirely. The invitation to his family’s restaurant was far from a date, but it gave Evan hope that they could at least be friends. 

He was distracted from his fantasies by Hannah, seeking an opinion on a slightly hideous knit beret. As he checked it out, Evan noticed Ali staring in his direction, a wistful look on his face.

XL

Ali stared across the bar, wanting to go home and sleep. He’d met his sister at a small pub near the thrift store, to give her some clothes he thought she’d like. Shadia didn’t drink, but Ali nursed a vodka tonic, feeling miserable. All his work was running him into the ground, but at least it gave him a reason to neglect his personal life. Other than going to the gym, he didn’t do much besides work and sleep.

“You look exhausted,” Shadia said. She had a real knack for mixing judgment with concern.

“Thanks,” Ali said, frowning. “The store was busy today. Lots of back to school shoppers, and people giving away summer clothes.”

He didn’t mention the worst part of his day, when Evan came in with yet another donation, looking more overfed and adorable than ever. Ever since the growing young man had asked him out, he’d been all Ali could think about. His cute, round face, the way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled… he was so damn cute, and Ali had turned him down.

After Evan left, Ali had sifted through his donations. They were mostly size L, with plenty of stretched-out elastic waistbands. When Ali noticed a pair of tiny pink swim shorts, he imagined Evan wearing them at the beach, frolicking in the sun and sand with his beautiful chub on full display. The fact that he was giving them away suggested that they had gotten too small for public viewing. Ali had shoved the bag aside, trying to rid his mind of thoughts of those swim shorts, skin-tight against Evan’s round bottom, seams fighting against his chubby thighs.

But as much as he wanted to get Evan out of his head, the universe seemed to have different plans. Ali nearly choked on his drink when he saw Evan walk into the bar with a tall, slender guy. Evan’s companion seemed about Ali’s age, with an unremarkable face and thin brown hair. He was dressed in khakis and a dress shirt, which fit him far better than the fashion-forward corduroy shorts and tight patterned shirt swaddling Evan’s hips and gut.

Ali tried to hide his face, but Evan noticed him immediately, and pulled his boyfriend in Ali’s direction. Shadia seemed generally oblivious, sipping cranberry juice and staring at her phone.

“Hey! Funny seeing you here,” Evan said, standing by their table. His perfect smile was like a sledgehammer to Ali’s chest. He turned to the man he was with, adding: “This is the guy from the thrift store I was telling you about.”

That sentence made Ali pause. Were you telling him about the guy, or the store? he wanted to ask. “Hey,” he said instead, managing a weak smile of his own. He extended a hand to the guy Evan was with. “Is this your boyfriend? I’m Ali, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I’m not—uh, we’re not—” the guy fumbled for words, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the bar as he shook Ali’s hand. His palm was sweaty. “Xander.”

Evan seemed embarrassed by his response. “Xander TA’d one of my electives last term. Intro to Classics,” he said. He turned to Shadia, whose interest had been pulled from her phone, and extended his hand to her. “I’m Evan.”

Shadia shook it. “I’m Ali’s sister. Shadia, nice to meet you.” She shook Xander’s hand, too.

“I just have to say, you have, like, the best eye makeup I’ve seen in a while,” Evan said. Shadia beamed, lapping up the praise, as Evan turned back to Ali. “Well, it was nice running into you. Now you know I go to places other than your family’s restaurant.”

Ali chuckled, tucking a lock of curly hair behind his ear. “Good seeing you, too.”

And with that, Evan and Xander turned and walked away, heading towards a table at the other end of the bar. Ali watched Evan’s chubby hips sway as he walked, admiring the way his plump lower half jiggled in his skintight shorts.

“You like him!” Shadia whispered once they were out of earshot, a massive grin crossing her face. “You have a crush on him!”

“Shut up, I do not,” Ali lied, crossing his arms.

“You are such a liar,” Shadia said, still grinning. “It’s so obvious, you were practically drooling. I wish I could get a guy to look at me like that.”

Ali shook his head, “Okay, fine, maybe I do. But I obviously can’t do anything about it when I’m supposed to be planning my wedding.”

Shadia rolled her eyes. “Tell me you aren’t seriously considering going through with this marriage,” Shadia said. “You can’t marry this poor girl just to make Mom and Dad happy.”

Ali sighed, knowing his sister was right. They’d been engaged for six months and were still no closer to setting a date, much less starting any preparations, and he knew Fatima and her family were starting to get impatient.

He motioned to the bartender for another drink. Even if he wanted to make a move, it didn’t matter now. Ali had waited too long, and Evan was off the market.

XXL

Evan was starving. He fucking hated dieting, but he’d been putting on so much weight that Xander was starting to get on his case about eating better. Sure, he was up to a 2XL, but Evan reassured himself that it was only temporary as he walked into Eastern Flavours, mouth watering at the smell of seasoned meat and fry oil. He wasn’t even going to donate his XL stuff, since he’d be back into them in no time. Probably even smaller.

Evan grinned when he saw Ali at the cash register, somehow managing to make a polo shirt and chinos look sexy and cute at the same time. He always dressed so differently at the thrift store; it was funny to see how conservative and straight-laced he looked as a server, with his mop of curls tucked under a baseball cap.

“Hey, Evan,” Ali said. “The usual? Number 4 combo with chicken, fries, and a fountain drink?”

Evan was a little embarrassed by the fact that he had a usual order. But he was a regular customer, even if his recent attempt at weight loss had seen him cut back his visits. He’d been good all week, though, and he felt like he’d earned a reward. “Sounds perfect,” he said.

Ali rang him up, and a few moments later he arrived at Evan’s table with a basket of food that looked as incredible as it smelled. “I threw in some extra pita bread and fries,” Ali said. “Consider it part of our loyalty program.”

Evan beamed at him, although he felt a little guilty about overdoing it. Xander thought he was going for a smoothie, not a family-sized Mediterranean feast. Still, if he destroyed the evidence, no one would ever need to know….

As he ate, Evan watched Ali wipe down tables, discreetly ogling his tight little ass. But it wasn’t just the food or the scenery that Evan liked about this place. It had warmth. He appreciated seeing Ali’s parents in the kitchen, conversing as they cooked up incredible meals. Sometimes Ali’s brother came by, too. They seemed like such a nice family; Evan thought about the time he met Ali’s sister at the bar. He struggled to imagine a night out with his own sister. His family just wasn’t that close.

After his lunch was finished, Evan headed out, bundling up against the cold winter air. There used to be a time when winter clothes would disguise any body fat, but now they just made him look bigger. When he got back to his apartment, Xander was marking papers on the couch. “How was lunch?” he asked.

“Fine. Sure do love those smoothies,” he lied, as he made his way to the bathroom.

“You have hummus in your beard,” Xander called after him.

Evan was blushing as he closed the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, knowing he’d been caught red-handed. He sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror. He kept his beard short, barely longer than stubble, but it was long enough to betray his lunchtime indulgence.

He’d grown out his facial hair to try to mask how round his face was becoming. Bye bye, jawline, he thought, noticing his developing double chin and chubby cheeks. He turned on the shower and started pulling off his clothes. His chunky belly flopped out as he removed his shirt, taking a few seconds to stop jiggling. He dragged his fingers along the underside, trailing them over his love handles. He had so many stretch marks now, little red lines that gave away just how much he’d blown up, and how quickly the weight kept piling on. He lifted his belly with both hands, noticing the way it bulged through his fingers. He had more than a couple of handfuls of fat to grip; it was a full-blown gut. And a heavy one, at that.

He peeled off his pants and stood nearly naked, letting it all hang out. Looking at himself in just his underwear, he knew he wasn’t just chubby anymore; he had broken through into fat guy territory. He spun around and looked at himself side-on, at how far his gut hung out in front of him, and how far his butt stuck out behind him, and then turned and looked over his shoulder at his backside. He had to admit, 2XL undies fit him much better. He was a little pear-shaped, and he was no longer able to fit his ass into XL briefs. He could get them up, but they were too tight, constraining his package and leaving a wedge of crack exposed. He slid out of his underwear, watching the way his butt wobbled as he freed it from containment. His wide lower back dimpled above it.

He studied the prominent shelf of ass fat, the way his love handles looked even beefier from the back. He was carrying so much weight back there. He didn’t just look fat. He looked obese.

He frowned. He knew he was supposed to be trying to lose weight, but he honestly liked getting bigger. Feeling the pounds piling up on his body was hot. As he ran a hand along the curve of his blown-up butt, he felt himself starting to get hard.

Fuck it, he thought. No more stupid diets. I’m gonna eat what I want.

When he pulled on his sweats after the shower, he started going through his closet for XL clothes to give away.

3XL

The restaurant was bustling with customers, mostly college students looking for a snack after a night of hard drinking. They always did well on weekends, thanks to that demographic. Ali zoned out as he rang up orders and handed over foil-covered wraps to beefy frat guys and their glassy-eyed girlfriends.

Breaking up with Fatima had been the right thing to do. His family wasn’t thrilled, but it wasn’t fair to keep stringing her along. And she’d landed on her feet, anyway: just a few months after the breakup, she and Faisal announced their engagement. Shadia attributed it to the power of maternal scheming, but Ali wasn’t ashamed to admit that it was a far better match. Faisal had an MD after his name and a well-documented attraction to women, neither of which Ali could offer.

But being single had left him with plenty of time to reflect on his own life. He was lonely. Whenever he worked at the thrift store, he kept waiting for Evan to walk in with another bag of tight clothes and that perfect smile on his round face. But he never did.

Ali still saw him, though, and he was clearly still going through clothes like a mall on Black Friday: it seemed like every time Evan came by the restaurant to stuff his face with mind-boggling quantities of food, he looked bigger and fatter than he had the time before. Ali knew it was stupid, but a small part of him hoped that Evan was coming to see him. Ali wanted to flirt with him, to smile back and tell him how cute he was, but he always felt like a kid when he worked the cash register, caught by the watchful gaze of his parents.

And anyway, it just wasn’t in the stars. Evan had someone else.

At that moment, as if on cue, Evan appeared in the doorway. His svelte friends were completely dwarfed by him; he looked massively overnourished in a tank top and a pair of jeans. Ali wondered if they were supposed to be that form-fitting, or if they were just struggling against Evan’s juicy legs and generous, baby-making hips.

They were part of the bar crowd; the girls were dressed for a night out, with slinky dresses and high heels, and it was obvious from the volume of their conversation that they were drunk. Ali smiled as they reached the front of the line and he got a good look at Evan. He looked even bigger up close, his beefy breasts cleaving against the front of his tank top, which had started to slip up his gut to reveal a few stretch marks. That gut now hung out well in front of him, hiding his waistband from view. His arms looked huge, too—and not from muscle.

“Hey!” Evan said, flashing a drunken smile. “I’ll get a number three combo with fries, a shawarma wrap, a kebab, and an extra order of fries, large.”

“The ‘Fuck Xander Special’,” one of the girls said. They all laughed, even though Evan looked a little sheepish.

“You guys broke up?” Ali said. He didn’t want to pry, but that comment had sent his curiosity through the roof.

“Yup, Xander dumped me,” Evan said. He looked bashful, but there was something else in his expression. Was it… pride? “Pretty much said I was too fat for him.”

“What an asshole,” Ali said, meaning every word. “Well, this one’s on me.”

Evan beamed, a smile that was worth every penny. “Oh, and you guys wanted fries too?”

Ali hadn’t realized all that food was for Evan, but he tried not to let his surprise show as he added fries to the order.

He watched Evan laughing with his friends as they waited for their order. So Evan was single again… And now he was single, too… Ali handed Evan his order, and the young chub headed to the exit.

Ali’s mind was reeling, and he knew he was going to do something really stupid as he leaned into the door of the kitchen.

“Mama, can you watch the register for a minute?” Ali said.

“Your father needs me here, I—”

“Thanks! I’ll be right back!” Ali said. And then he raced through the front door and into the summer night.

Evan and his friends were halfway down the block, and they all turned when Ali called his name.

He felt a little awkward at the audience, but he pressed ahead, jogging over to Evan, who was already tearing into his first wrap. He looked particularly immense from behind, and Ali drank in his curves as he turned around. “I—I wanted to catch you before you left,” Ali said. He swallowed.

Evan looked a little confused. His friends were whispering to each other. “What’s up?” he asked. He gave a mischievous grin, maybe to defuse the awkwardness. “Did you decide to charge me after all?”

“I just wanted to say that… you’re a catch. And Xander didn’t deserve you. And that he should have treated you like the prize you are.” Ali cringed at the word vomit that was spilling out of him; he had waited so long to ask Evan out, and now he was making a complete ass of himself in front of Evan’s friends.

Evan looked around, seeming a little embarrassed. “Ali, you don’t have to say—”

Ali cut him off. He knew he was destroying the suave image he had spent so long cultivating, but he couldn’t let Evan get away again, even if that meant spilling his guts like a teenager with a schoolyard crush. “I know. I just—I really like you, Evan. I’ve liked you from the first time I saw you. And I know I’m being super weird right now, and you probably just want to walk away and never see me again, but…”

Evan laid a hand on Ali’s bony side, and Ali felt himself run out of words as Evan leaned towards him. And then Ali was leaning in, too, and he could smell the liquor and tahini on Evan’s breath, and see the city lights in his eyes, and feel Evan’s bulk, warm and vast, pressing against him, enveloping him. Their lips met.

Ali could barely hear the sound of Evan’s friends hooting in the background—his heart was racing, and he broke into a grin with Evan’s lips still pressed against his own. He felt like the luckiest man on Earth.

4XL

Evan managed to finish his ice cream cone by the time they reached the front door of the thrift store. Ali was carrying two large garbage bags, full of the 2- and 3XL clothes that Evan had outgrown.

He started sifting through the racks as Ali dropped off the donation, but he knew it would be slim pickings—well, maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words, but it would be next to impossible to find anything that fit him. Trying to find anything stylish in a 4XL was a huge pain in Evan’s huge ass.

But they weren’t just here for him. Ali was looking for maternity clothes for his sister-in-law—who also happened to be his ex-fiancée, but Evan didn’t judge. If anything, he related to Fatima more than ever. Pregnancy struggles sounded pretty familiar—round belly, swollen feet, nothing to wear, constantly sweaty… Welcome to my life, girl, Evan thought. At least her pregnancy would end when she had the baby; for Evan, feeling heavy and cumbersome, with a big belly and sensitive nipples, was a part of life. A very enjoyable part of life, for the most part. But he did wish that people would give him their seat on the bus. Ideally more than one seat.

And he wasn’t the only one who had put on some weight: Ali’s brother Faisal had clearly packed on a few pounds of sympathy weight, his tight shirts looking tighter than ever around his belly. A family of dishes, Evan thought, as he considered the two beautiful brothers.

Evan hadn’t been there when Ali came out to his parents, but apparently it went fine. Ali’s siblings dutifully backed him up, and Ali’s mother—the mastermind behind all that delicious food that had fuelled Evan’s transformation from cub to chub—made it clear that she would always stand by her son. Even Ali’s father was coming around; he was very interested to hear about Evan’s time as a high school soccer player (football, as he called it) and delighted to learn that they cheered for the same leagues. It may not have been what either of Ali’s parents expected, but no one could deny how much happier Ali seemed these days.

Evan was happy, too. Ali didn’t just tolerate his weight gain, he actively encouraged it, ordering for Evan at restaurants, loading up shopping carts with his favourite snacks, and constantly pushing him to exceed his limits. It was no surprise that his weight had soared far beyond 300 pounds, considering how thoroughly his boyfriend pampered him. He hadn’t just doubled his weight, he’d doubled it and kept on growing. It had been a while since he weighed himself, but considering the fact that 3XL clothes were starting to get constricting, he guessed that 350 pounds could be an underestimate. Was he proud to be two and a half times the weight he’d been when he started college? Fuck yeah he was.

Both men alternated between dominant and submissive. Sometimes, Ali would bring out an enormous plate of food, forcefully stuffing Evan’s face, ordering him to keep eating until he licked the plate clean and leaned back, stomach stretched to its limits and so bloated that it was firm beneath his thick layer of pudge. Other times, Evan bossed him around, ordering him to serve up plate after heavily-laden plate; Ali would be forbidden from touching himself until Evan had eaten every last bite, no matter how hard his erection cried out for attention. Evan enjoyed stretching out those meals, savouring every bite as Ali watched, rapt, practically aching with pleasure but powerless to relieve the tension. Evan would moan and groan as he filled his gigantic belly, while his naked boyfriend squirmed, desperate for release. Food and sex were so comingled in Evan’s mind that overeating made him horny, and sex invariably left him craving something sweet.

“This would look cute on you,” Ali said, snapping Evan away from his lustful daydream. Ali was holding up a narrow tank-top with pink and white horizontal stripes. Not only was it at least four sizes too small, that pattern would be sure to accentuate his astonishing girth. There was a time when that shirt would have been too big for him, but those days were long gone.

“That would be, like, a crop top on me,” Evan said. It might contain his moobs, but there was no way it would cover more than a few inches of his incredibly fat belly. Even a well-fitting shirt would be tested by his gut; it projected so far outwards that his underbelly would always be exposed, unless he tucked it in. “But sure, toss it in the cart.”

It was cheap, anyway, and growing his tits so fat that even they couldn’t fit into that shirt could be his next goal. A target to work towards. Plus, Ali went absolutely wild at the sight of Evan in undersized clothing. That’s why they made sure not to give all of his old stuff away.

“I was thinking we could go to the beach later,” Ali said, as he browsed the racks. “So I can slather you with sunscreen and show you off.”

Evan chuckled. “If you can find a pair of swim trunks or board shorts that can actually cover my ass, I’m in.”

Ali peered at Evan’s huge backside, biting his lip. “Well, maybe we could let it hang out just a little….”

5XL

Ali adjusted his tie as he surveyed the latest Eastern Flavours location. Business was good: things were running like a well-oiled machine, and the customers were happy. If this kept up, they might even be able to open a fourth location next year, in the next town over.

And the family business wasn’t the only thing expanding. Evan was blowing up like a balloon from the absurd quantities of food that Ali was pumping into him.

On that note, Ali piled up a plate with fries and headed to the office upstairs. Cool air hit him as soon as he walked in; Evan kept the air conditioner on bust to keep his generously-padded frame from completely overheating.

He was seated in a reinforced gaming chair, his mountainous bulk bearing down on it, taking up every free inch. His ample hips and voluminous love handles pressed into the sides; that chair had a 500 pound weight limit, but Ali was confident he could push Evan past its breaking point.

“Hey, cutie,” Ali said, as he approached his fiancé with yet another mountainous portion of food. “Thought you could use an afternoon snack.”

“You know I ate lunch an hour ago,” Evan said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I know,” Ali said. “What took me so long?”

Evan laughed as he helped himself to a heaping handful of fries. Paperwork spread out on the desk in front of him, and his dual monitors were full of spreadsheets and supply orders. He moaned as he ate, trailing a meaty hand across his boundless gut. “I was looking at tuxes for the wedding this morning,” he said, through a mouthful of fries. “Not exactly a lot of choice out there for a guy my size.”

They had decided to elope; neither of them wanted the drama of a big wedding, but a tropical vacation—with Evan lounging naked on the beach, sipping daiquiris—sounded like heaven. Still, they did want to bring along some formalwear, at least for the photos. If only to prove that Evan had once been able to fit himself into a 5X dress shirt.

Ali rubbed Evan’s shoulders; even those were encased in soft fat that gave way beneath his fingers. “Well, how’s business?” he asked. “Maybe we could go for something bespoke. You know, really freak out the tailor who has to take your measurements.”

“He’d be freaked out until he swiped our card,” Evan said. “Then we’d be his favourite customers. Business is good, by the way. Really good.”

Ali beamed. He’d finally made his parents proud: they could now say that he was an entrepreneur, growing the family business into a successful franchise with three locations across the city. And he couldn’t have done it without Evan, whose business degree was turning out to be a very valuable asset.

Ali bent down and kissed Evan’s chubby cheek; he turned and planted a kiss on Ali’s lips. 

“Oh, by the way, Fatima was asking if you have any old 2XL clothes. Apparently Faisal needs to size up again,” Ali said.

Evan arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you and Fatima have more in common than you thought,” he said. “There’s no way that’s just sympathy weight.”

Evan was right: Ali’s nephew was about to have his first birthday, and Faisal was looking even fatter than he had when his son was born. Ali considered the thought; the idea of Fatima deliberately fattening up his ex-jock brother was pretty funny, in his opinion, given how obsessed Faisal had been with “making gains” at the gym, and all the vanity behind his thirst trap Instagram photos. Now all his gains were made at the buffet table, steadily enlarging his gut.

“Good point,” Ali said. “Pretty soon he’s gonna make my dad look skinny.”

“I’ll have a look in my closet, but you know I never keep clothes for long. I might have a few things for him, though,” Evan said. He grabbed another handful of fries, washing it down with a swig of soda from the two-litre bottle on his desk. The watch Ali had proposed to him with looked tight around his chubby wrist, cutting into the fat between his plump forearm and his porky hand; they would need to get a few links added to it soon.

“I should probably get back to managing things downstairs and leave you to do the real work,” Ali said. 

“Bringing me fries is real work,” Evan said. He slipped a hand under his monster gut and gave it a shake, sending ripples across his epic torso. “This thing is—uuuurp—a full-time job.” Evan flushed; all that jiggling had coaxed out an impressive burp.

Seeing the way Evan’s fat belly wobbled and quivered made Ali realize just how tight his t-shirt had gotten. It was probably time to drop off some more clothes at the thrift store where Ali used to work. He nudged the plate of fries closer to Evan, smiling at the thought. “Well, I should get on that.”

Evan grinned at him. That perfect smile still made Ali’s stomach flutter. “Oh, you should definitely get on that.”

The thought of climbing all over Evan’s blubber-bound body got Ali’s heart racing. He really couldn’t wait to get on that.

[louisupdates]

FITFWT23: FASHION

EUROPE

Via LWTHQS

29 Aug - Barclays Arena, HAMBURG: [CDLP tank] [Saul Nash pants]

31 Aug - Royal Arena, COPENHAGEN: [Casablanca Casa t-shirt]

1 Sep - Spektrum, OSLO: [Nike shoes] [Commes des Garçons x Lacoste polo] [Adidas jacket]

2 Sep - Hovet, STOCKHOLM: [Stone Island t-shirt], [Stone Island pants], [Salomon shoes]

4 Sep - Ice Hall, HELSINKI: [Pleasures x Sonic Youth jersey]

5 Sep - Saku Arena, TAILLINN: [1017 ALYX 9SM t-shirt] [Nike Air Max shoes] [Nike Windrunner fleece hoodie] [Nike joggers] [Nike trainers]

7 Sep - Arena Riga, RIGA: [Champion t-shirt] [Supreme x Lacoste track suit]

8 Sep - Zalgiris Arena, KAUNAS: [Neill Barrett t-shirt] [Neil Barrett IG post and IG story] [Sergio Tacchini tracksuit]

10 Sep - Tauron Arena, KRAKOW: [VTMNTS t-shirt] [Stone Island hoodie]

11 Sep - Atlas Arena, ŁÓDŹ: [Leones The Band tank top] [Converse high tops] [CP Company pants] [424 Logo hat] [Salomon shoes] [Mastermind hoodie]

13 Sep - Wiener Stadhalle D, VIENNA: [CP Company pants] [Palace hat]

14 Sep - Stozice Arena, LJUBLJANA: [Wales Bonner tank top]

15 Sep - Budapest Arena, BUDAPEST: [Stone Island cap] [Stone Island pants]

17 Sep - Arenele Romane, BUCHAREST: [Burberry t-shirt] [Burberry cap]

18 Sep - Arena Armeets, SOFIA: [black tank top] [Nike pants]

20 Sep - Petras Theater, ATHENS: [VTMNTS t-shirt] [Sunflower Mike shorts]

1 Oct - Bilbao Arena Miribilla, BILBAO (VIZCAYA): [Calvin Klein white tank top] [North Face pants] [Nike shoes] [Adidas Y 3 track pants] [Han Kjøbenhavn hoodie]

3 Oct - Altice Arena, LISBON: [CP Company graphic t-shirt] [CP Company pants] [Asics shoes] [Palace hoodie]

5 Oct - Wizink Center, MADRID: [Fred Perry x Pleasures t-shirt]

6 Oct - Palau Sant Jordi, BARCELONA: [Moncler t-shirt] [Customized face all over Hawaiian shirt]

8 Oct - Pala Alpitur, TURIN: [Sunspel beige tank top] [Stone Island pants] [Y/Project hat] [Adidas x Wales Bonner sweater and pants]

9 Oct - Unipol Arena, BOLOGNA: [Nanushka tank top] [Stone Island pants]

11 Oct - Rockhal, ESCH-SUR-ALZETTE: [Stone Island t-shirt]

12 Oct - Sportspaleis, ANTWERP: [Wales Bonner jacket] [1017 Alyx 9SM Studio bomber jacket]

14 Oct - Accor Arena, PARIS: [Balmain polo shirt]

15 Oct - Ziggo Dome, AMSTERDAM: [Givenchy tank top] [CP Company pants]

17 Oct - Lanxess Arena, COLOGNE: [Ralph Lauren polo shirt]

19 Oct - O2 Arena, PRAGUE: [Junya Watanabe t-shirt] [Nike pants]

20 Oct - Mercedes Benz Arena, BERLIN: [Kith black tank top] [Stone Island track pants] [Axel Arigato shoes] [Fred Perry t-shirt] [Alyx Studio hoodie]

22 Oct - Olympiahalle, MUNICH: [Burberry polo shirt]

23 Oct - Hallenstadion, ZURICH: [Stone Island t-shirt] [Stone Island trousers] [Axel Arigato shoes]

8 Nov - 3Arena, DUBLIN: [CDLP tank] [Reebok sweatshirt] [Saul Nash pants] [Nike mock neck top] [1017 Alyx 9SM jacket] [Vetements cap] [Thames MMXX top]

10 Nov - Utilita Arena, SHEFFIELD: [Givenchy logo tank top] [CP company pants] [Aimé Leon Doré hoodie] [Palace trousers]

11 Nov - AO Arena, MANCHESTER: [Aimé Leon Dore jacket] [Nike shoes]

12 Nov - Ovo Hydro, GLASGOW: [Palace Skateboards shirt] [Stone Island pants]

14 Nov - Brighton Center, BRIGHTON: [Farragamo polo]

15 Nov - International Arena, CARDIFF: [Casablanca Paris top]

17 Nov - The O2, LONDON: [Saul Nash vest] [Saul Nash track pants] [Comme Des Garçons shirt]

18 Nov - Resorts World Arena, BIRMINGHAM: [Burberry t-shirt] [Lacoste top]

23 Nov - Camden Roundhouse, Rolling Stone UK Awards, LONDON: [Neil Barrett mesh jacket] [black vest] [Hugo pants] [Grenson leather shoes]

Photo via lbfcult

[mote-historie]

Coty powder compact designed by Leon Bakst, Made by Coty Inc in Paris, France, 1935-1955.

The founder, Francois Coty believed the aesthetics of the packaging to be as important as the product. After his successful artistic partnership with designer Rene Lalique in the early 20th century, Coty approached Leon Bakst to design the Air Spun powder box. Leon Bakst is celebrated for his colourful exotic costumes and decors created for the Ballet Russes, which prompted new fashions in dress and interior decoration. This colourful, exotic aesthetic can be seen in the design of the powder box, where fluffy white powder puffs with black and gold handles float against an orange and gold background. Bakst’s original powder box design was made of Moroccan leather with gold leaf embossing. However, these boxes were expensive to manufacture and Coty paid his customers to return them when empty. They were then sent to Japan where the gold leaf would be scraped off and then reused. Bakst’s design was later modified into a cheaper cardboard version by Coty’s commercial artist Georges Draeger. The design of the packaging created an impression of luxury and prestige, while still being mass produced. These ‘luxury’ items were made even more accessible to middle and working class women by packaging them in small quantities and creating gift sets and co-ordinating product lines. Coty Air Spun powder was very successful, selling in Europe, North and South America, Australia and Asia. It was so popular in Asia that the ‘Rachel’ colour was created specifically for Asian skin tones. Coty is an internationally renowned beauty product and fragrance company that was founded in Paris in 1904 by François Coty. The company was acquired by the fragrance division of Unilever in 2005. In 2010 Coty had it’s headquarters in New York City and had become the world’s largest manufacturer of mass-market fragrances, aligning many of its new fragrances with celebrities like Sarah Jessica Parker, David and Victoria Beckham, Jennifer Lopez and Calvin Klein. Alysha Buss, Curatorial volunteer with Anne-Marie Van de Ven, Curator, February 2011 Reference: Toledano, Roulhac B. and Coty, Elizabeth Z., ‘Francois Coty: Fragrance, Power, Money’, Pelican Publishing Company Inc, Gretna, Louisiana, 2009

Powerhouse Museum Collection.

[donnidarko-world]

When I look back on my life

It's not that I don't want to see things exactly as they happened

It's just that I prefer to remember them in an artistic way

And truthfully, the lie of it all is much more honest

Because I invented it

Clinical psychology tells us, arguably, that trauma is the ultimate killer

Memories are not recycled like atoms and particles in quantum physics

They can be lost forever

It's sort of like my past is an unfinished painting

And as the artist of that painting

I must fill in all the ugly holes

And make it beautiful again

It's not that I've been dishonest

It's just that I loathe reality

For example, those nurses

They're wearing next season Calvin Klein

And so am I

And the shoes, custom Giuseppe Zanotti

I tipped their gauze caps to the side like parisian berets

Because I think it's romantic

And I also believe that mint will be very big in fashion next spring

Check out this nurse on the right

She's got a great ass

Bam

The truth is, back then at the clinic

They only wore those funny hats to keep the blood out of their hair

And that girl on the left

She ordered gummy bears and a knife a couple of hours ago

They only gave her the gummy bears

I'd wished they'd only given me the gummy bears.

Credit : Lady Gaga - mery the night