#Classic denim overalls

[mashaly1986]

Jordache Denim Jean Overalls Girl's Size XL (14/16) Pants Stud Embellished Med/

The Jordache Denim Jean Overalls for Girls (Size XL 14/16) are a stylish and practical addition to any girl's wardrobe. Made from durable denim fabric, these overalls feature a classic overall design with adjustable shoulder straps for a customizable fit. The medium wash gives them a timeless, casual look, while the stud embellishments add a touch of flair and uniqueness to the outfit. These overalls are perfect for everyday wear or special occasions, offering both style and comfort. The versatile design makes them easy to pair with different tops, making them a go-to choice for any fashion-forward girl.

[meazalykov]

two worlds collide

emily fox x WNBA!liberty!reader

summary: going on a date with a soccer player, especially an arsenal player, was not what you expected to do during the WNBA break

you sit at the corner table of a cozy restaurant in new york city, your fingers idly tapping against the wooden surface.

the glow of soft yellow lights overhead casts a warm shimmer over the room, glinting off polished silverware and the dark, gleaming wood. 

it’s early evening, just the cusp of sunset, where the streets outside hum with the mingled voices of commuters, tourists, and the occasional street performer.

sabrina had sworn that this was the perfect spot. 

“trust me,” she’d said with a sly grin, eyes glinting with a playful mischief. 

“you two will hit it off.” you remember the way she had nudged your arm weeks ago, barely holding back a laugh when you asked for details.

“wait wait wait– who’s emily? what team does she play on?” you had asked, leaning back in the locker room after practice, beads of sweat still rolling down your neck from drills. 

the name was unfamiliar, and your mind scrolled through every possible wnba roster. nothing.

sabrina had raised an eyebrow, tying back her ponytail. 

“not an emily in the wnba. she’s a soccer girl. arsenal’s defensive player, plays for the uswnt, too.”

your breath had caught in a laugh. 

“an arsenal player? you know i’m a chelsea fan.”

“and yet,” sabrina said, crossing her arms with that knowing smirk, 

“you’ll survive. she’s nice. you’ll see.”

you glance at your phone now, the screen lighting up to show the time: 6:47 p.m. 

emily’s supposed to be here at seven. the soft murmur of voices around you doesn’t distract you from the nervous thrum in your chest. 

on the court, your playstyle might say you’re fearless on the court, storming and crossing up the other team without hesitation, but sitting here waiting for a first date feels like stepping up to the free-throw line with a championship game on the line.

the door opens, letting in a quick gust of cool air that makes your shoulders tense slightly. your eyes shift instinctively, and there she is—emily. 

she’s wearing a dark denim jacket over a white t-shirt, dark brown hair pulled back in a casual ponytail that still somehow looks effortlessly styled. you’re wearing a blue sweater with blue levi jeans, somehow casual. 

emily is scanning the room, eyes bright and clear, until they land on you. she smiles, a small curve that softens her sharp, athletic features, and it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“y/n?” she asks, voice smooth, accented just slightly in a way that tells you she’s been overseas for some time.

“that’s me,” you reply, standing up and offering your hand, which she takes without hesitation.

“nice to finally meet you,” emily says, slipping into the seat across from you. she moves with the ease of someone who’s spent her life in motion.

you both take a moment, the initial rush of introductions settling. you order drinks—her, a classic gin, and you opt for your usual. 

as the server walks away, emily leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“so,” she starts, eyes sparkling with curiosity, 

“sabrina tells me you’re a chelsea fan. should i be worried?”

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing at the playful jab. 

“don’t worry,” you say, smirking. 

“i won’t hold arsenal against you—at least, not tonight.”

“sounds fair,” she replies, and there’s a moment where you both smile, the warmth between you growing.

the conversation flows easily after that. you share stories about your college days at uconn—the relentless practices, the roar of packed arenas, the thrill of being drafted third overall for the liberty. 

emily’s eyes light up as she tells you about growing up playing soccer until the sun dipped low and her mother would call her home.

“and after some time in north carolina–arsenal came calling since caitlin really wanted me to play with her,” she says, sipping her drink. 

“wasn’t even sure i’d say yes. london felt like another world at first.”

“but you did,” you say, nodding, already picturing her on a pitch, stopping forwards with ease.

“and i did,” emily confirms, eyes catching yours with a look that lingers.

the night stretches on, the restaurant’s bustle slowing as patrons leave, and yet, you barely notice. 

you talk about the upcoming olympics, how emily’s gearing up for it, and she asks if you’ll be watching.

“i’ll be cheering louder than anyone,” you say, meaning every word.

she asks why you weren’t on the basketball team representing the USA in the olympics, you said it was due to an injury scare on your wrist. she understood as a girl who had many injures herself.

by the time the server brings the check, neither of you are in a rush to leave. 

outside, the city’s lights twinkle like a sea of stars, and when you step onto the sidewalk, the air feels cool against your skin.

“thank you for tonight,” emily says, and you catch the faintest hint of nerves in her voice.

you smile, hands slipping into your pockets. 

“anytime.”

“next time,” she says, with a hint of mischief, “don’t wear chelsea blue.”

you look down at your sweater, noting that the blue did match chelsea’s colors. 

“deal,” you laugh, already thinking about when the next time will be.

whenever the american girl comes back from london. 

masterlist

[g1rld1ary]

Hello ml, i have binged all of your lifeguard!james series and wondered if the could be in a country bar with cowboy hats and low jeans or dressed as cowboys for Halloween ( not purposely matching ) I can see reader being all hot and bothered about james in overalls no shirt and a cowboy hat. Dont feel like you have to but i love these sm

- Hannah xx

lifeguard!james potter x fem!reader (COWBOY EDITION)

prev

wc: 1949

cw: hornyyyy, alcohol

me: i am FERAL for this ask like absolutely UNHINGED girl i loved it sososo much and i really hope you do too!!!! watched footloose as research and if anyone wants more cowboy/footloose content PLS just shoot me an ask or request because the obsession is back in full force. thank u so much for reading!!! <3

ALSO!! this is my 1 yr anniversary fic!!!!!! felt right to be my boy lifeguard!james because im crazy for him <3 thank u sososo much to everyone who's ever read and interacted with my fics i love u all soso much and am grateful for u all every day <333

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“shh, hurry up!” lily giggled as you snuck out her window, snorting as you landed heavily in the bush underneath. you flipped her off as you wiped the arse of your low-rise jeans, hopping over to marlene’s old car and sliding through the open window.

“are we picking up the boys?” you asked, taking the beer bottle offered by mary from the back seat.

“you mean are we picking up james?” marlene said with a sing-song trill and you turned out to the window to hide your smile.

“that’s not what i asked, was it?”

it was only a half-hour drive to the next town over, where your real favourite pastime lived. lounging by the public pool was fun and all, but nothing compared to maverick’s. maverick’s was a classic country bar, and the last saturday of every month was all-ages line-dancing all night. you went without fail.

you loved the atmosphere of the bar, the music, the crowds, the fashion. everyone dressed to the nines in cowboy attire, hats and boots dominating your eye line, though your group was no different.

you’d perfectly tailored your outfit to fit in with the crowd of dancers. skin-tight low-rise denim sandwiched between red cowboy boots and a red flannel just a size too small, tied up tight under the curve of your breasts.

“fuck!” you moaned, running your hands down your face as the girls all turned to look, “i forgot my hat!” the girls all burst out laughing, relieved there wasn’t an actual emergency.

“just come dance already,” lily grabbed you by the hand, leading you out to the big wood dance floor. you followed with no hesitation.

everything felt better when you were dancing. there were no worries, nothing to think about, no sadness or boredom to wallow in. when you were dancing, there was just music. just joy.

the song ended as if on cue, right when the gimmicky saloon doors swung open to four figures. you, however, were only staring at one.

james potter had never looked sexier. you said that every time you saw him, but this time it was really the truth. cowboy boots with washed denim overalls being the only thing covering his broad expanse of chest. on top of his dark messy curls rested a leather cowboy hat.

you could have sworn your legs should have been strong from dancing but your knees grew weak at the sight, mouth practically watering as you drank in the man before you. you laughed but were secretly grateful when mary jokingly supported your weight.

the boys sauntered over to you, all clearly feeling themselves in their cowboy getups — even remus looked confident in his double denim.

“hello there,” marlene crowed, laughing as they all did little spins to show off their outfits.

another song started and all your conversation was forgotten in favour of dancing, not wanting to waste the night you’d waited all month for. as each of your friends found their own space to move, james slotted in by your side.

“so you do this every month?” he asked, nervously looking around to see what other people were doing.

“every month,” you affirmed, already feeling yourself getting lost in the music.

“what am i supposed to do?” you could hear the rising panic in james’ voice as the choreography began to pick up, “i’ve never learnt these steps, how does everyone know them?” you couldn’t help but laugh at handsome, cool, lifeguard james potter freaking out because he didn’t know some dance steps. you laid a hand on his bicep to calm him down (and because it looked irresistible in the low light of the bar).

“the trick is not to worry — if you look closely, sirius hasn’t done a single right step this whole time, he’s just confident about it.”

james took your advice and you could see him starting to loosen up, which brought a pretty smile to his lips. he still looked to you for a guide of what direction to be travelling in, but you liked watching him have fun with it and laugh through all his stumbling.

he managed to make it through three whole dances before tapping out, and you skipped behind him over to the bar, still moving your hips to the music.

“what’s the problem?” you asked with a twirl to the song, watching as james cracked open his beer, “all those weights you lift not helping you with your moves?”

“it’s overwhelming,” james shrugged, catching you again unprepared for his unwavering vulnerability, “i’ve never been anywhere like this before, i feel out of my depth. how’d you guys find out about it?” you really, genuinely did feel bad that james was being honest with you and you were staring at his exposed chest, but it wasn’t your fault that he’d gotten sweaty from dancing and now it was shiny! you felt no better than a crow.

“believe it or not, a guy actually took me here on a first date once. it went terribly, like fucking awful, but i just fell in love with this place and the feeling. been dragging everyone else here ever since.”

“how does a guy screw up a chance with you? i mean, he takes you out dancing and still can’t show you a good time?” james shook his head like he was exasperated that some man he’d never meet hadn’t had a good date with you.

“he wouldn’t loosen up,” you hooked a finger around the strap of his overalls, pulling yourself closer to james’ seat on the barstool. “barely danced ‘coz he didn’t wanna look like a dork, and he wouldn’t tell me anything real about himself. i spent the whole night staring at other couples and wishing he was like them. unlike…” you stopped yourself by biting your lip shyly, eyes straying past james to the multicoloured alcohol bottles stacked against the wall of the bar.

“unlike?” he asked, then sensing your sudden nervousness, changed the subject, “your outfit’s missing something.” you cocked your head to the side curiously.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he repeated, lifting his cowboy hat from his head, placing it on yours instead. you took the initiative to run your fingers through his messy curls, arranging them to cure his hat hair.

“d’you even know what that means, baywatch?” you asked, one eyebrow raised.

“nah, but i’m sure i’ll like it.”

james’ sharp tongue went un-reprimanded when your favourite song came blasting through the speakers: Fake ID. you gasped in delight, taking off towards the dance floor in a hurry, james stumbling along behind.

james sat out the first verse to get acquainted with the music, eyes trained on you. you, for once, were mostly unaware of james’ gaze, enraptured by the music and the energy around you. you lost yourself in the dance, body moving with muscle memory so you could enjoy the experience fully. james’ eyes couldn’t leave your figure, roving over the creamy expanses of exposed skin, observing appreciatively as you swung your hips in his direction with a quick wink.

remembering what you’d said about your failed date james took the dive and risked his dignity, hopping the barrier between him and the dance floor. in seconds he was next to you again, clumsily (but enthusiastically) following the choreography you were executing more gracefully.

“let loose!” you yelled as the choreography faded out, everyone around you turning and twisting to the music.

you left james to his own devices to twirl with mary, holding james’ hat on your head to ensure you didn’t lose it. you flung your arms into the air with glee, grinding against nothing when fingers interlaced with yours, spinning you quickly into someone’s hold. james. you released the alarmed breath you’d taken, raising an impressed eyebrow as james smoothly brought your hands up to rest around his neck, his own finding their way down to your hips.

you barely spoke, enjoying the music and the tension that thickened whenever the two of you were alone together. james’ eyes moved almost erratically, trying to take in every inch of you he could, and you weren’t much better. there was a thin sheen of sweat coating the miles of exposed, tanned skin james was showing off, catching the light and drawing your eyes toward it.

james let go of you long enough to get low to the floor, hands and mouth grazing your skin as he worked his way back up your body. you arched your back to swing away from him long enough to hide your blush at the sensations, straightening back up to push yourself even closer to your dance partner.

you’d practically fused into one being, all sweat and flying hair and moving limbs, both your hips moving in time with each other and the music in a way that wasn’t feeling strictly friendly. the eye contact between you was unwavering and you had to force yourself to keep it, refusing to back down from what james had started.

you were so close, millimetres apart. james’ plush, pink lips were practically already on yours, yet he hadn’t closed the gap. why? his heavy breath fanning your face as you danced and all you could think about was what it would be like to kiss james potter.

the song ended just as you’d made your mind up to close the gap and you pulled away with a start, lips only barely grazing his. the room applauded as the houselights came back on, a sign that the night of dancing was over. you cheered with them, still making eye contact with james.

the rest of your group broke up your moment, hooting and hollering and dragging you back to the respective cars. james twirled you one more time on the dance floor, landing with his hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. you gasped with both surprise and delight at the unexpectedly smooth manoeuvre, letting him lead you back into the cool summer night air.

not quite ready to go home yet the group spread across the two cars, sitting on the bonnets and the grass in between. you stood still connected to james, who was leant against the driver side door. idle chatter passed about as you all praised the night, rehashing what you’d just lived through and how you already missed it.

“so, little lady,” james exaggerated a terrible southern accent, “you gonna tell me what all that fuss is about my hat?” the group had finally started moving, the click of car doors pervading the otherwise now quiet night.

“you’re outta your depth, baywatch,” you produced a cocky grin, “save a horse, ride a cowboy.” james’ surprise gave you leave to skip back to marlene’s car and slide through the passenger window.

she’d just put the engine into drive when james called after your car, “is that a promise?”

your laugh carried back to him through the wind as marlene pulled out onto the road back home.

[venusianpulp]

Rising Sign & Your Perfect Festival Outfit

Here are the perfect any music festival outfits for each of the 12 zodiac signs and Ascendants, with details on color schemes, materials, accents, and overall aesthetics:

PSA: Images and descriptions are both complimentary, so they may not be entirely identical, but everything is relevent.

Aries Rising: Bold and daring, an Aries rising would rock a fiery red crop top paired with high-waisted denim shorts. Accessorize with a black leather choker, combat boots, and a statement belt. The outfit screams confidence and adventure.

Taurus Rising: Earthy and sensual, a Taurus rising would opt for a flowy, bohemian-style maxi dress in shades of green and brown. Pair with a leather fringe vest, ankle boots, and a wide-brimmed hat. The outfit exudes comfort and laid-back elegance.

Gemini Rising: Playful and eclectic, a Gemini rising would mix and match patterns and colors. A graphic tee paired with a colorful, patterned skirt, fishnet stockings, and high-top sneakers. Accessorize with layered necklaces and quirky sunglasses for a fun, youthful vibe.

Cancer Rising: Soft and feminine, a Cancer rising would choose a vintage-inspired, pale blue sundress with delicate lace details. Pair with a cozy, oversized cardigan, ankle-strap sandals, and a small, cross-body bag. The outfit radiates comfort and nostalgia.

Leo Rising: Bold and dramatic, a Leo rising would make a statement in a metallic gold romper with a plunging neckline. Accessorize with a chunky, gold chain necklace, oversized sunglasses, and platform heels. The outfit screams glamour and confidence.

Virgo Rising: Clean and practical, a Virgo rising would opt for a crisp, white button-down shirt tucked into high-waisted, black denim shorts. Pair with a black leather belt, minimalist jewelry, and comfortable, low-top sneakers. The outfit is polished and effortlessly chic.

Libra Rising: Elegant and balanced, a Libra rising would choose a flowy, pastel pink maxi skirt paired with a white, off-the-shoulder crop top. Accessorize with delicate, gold jewelry, strappy sandals, and a woven clutch. The outfit is feminine and harmonious.

Scorpio Rising: Mysterious and alluring, a Scorpio rising would opt for a black, lace bodysuit paired with high-waisted, faux leather leggings. Layer with a sheer, black kimono, and accessorize with a choker, ankle boots, and a dark, smoky eye. The outfit is seductive and intense.

Sagittarius Rising: Adventurous and free-spirited, a Sagittarius rising would rock a tie-dye, cropped t-shirt paired with distressed, cut-off denim shorts. Accessorize with a woven, multicolored belt, layered anklets, and gladiator sandals. The outfit is playful and adventurous.

Capricorn Rising: Classic and sophisticated, a Capricorn rising would choose a sleek, solid & colored co-ord with a structured, cinched waist. Pair with knee high or thigh high black boots or dainty shoes, minimalist jewelry, and subtly refined look. The outfit is timeless and powerful.

Aquarius Rising: Unique and unconventional, an Aquarius rising would opt for a holographic, iridescent bodysuit paired with high-waisted, flared pants. Accessorize with a chunky, silver choker, platform boots, and a brightly colored, faux fur coat. The outfit is futuristic and eccentric.

Pisces Rising: Dreamy and ethereal, a Pisces rising would choose a flowy, sheer, pastel purple maxi dress with delicate, floral embroidery. Layer with a soft, crochet cardigan, and accessorize with a flower crown, layered, beaded necklaces, and strappy, barefoot sandals. The outfit is whimsical and enchanting.

[daddykinkkinard]

! crossposting from my twitter !

bucktommy costume analysis 👔

hi ! i'm a fashion student and am really interested in costume design so i wanted to do a (long) post on tommy's style and how i think buck might be influenced by it in s8 as seen in "buck's britches." :))

[about tommy]

tommy's wardrobe is entirely functional and indicative of his dedication to his work. it's practical, useful, and speaks of his can-do attitude.

all his signature clothes (henleys, shackets, canvas jackets) have historical traces to being used as workwear.

(1) henleys - this one, ironically in the philippines it has its own term in our local language. it's called a camisa de chino and is used by laborers. although i live in a different country, i'm sure its use case is still the same for other countries as it's historically deemed the workman's undergarment.

also: yes. tommy is technically right. there were henleys in the 80s. even in the 1880s. so what we're learning here now folks, is that he's a smartass little shit.

(2) shackets - historically, also an item used by the working class. they were mostly worn to prevent any possible stains on inner clothes from their work (i.e. dirt, grease, grime, etc.)

(3) canvas jacket - although this was only seen in 7x04, it's more likely that he still owns a lot more. (waxed) canvas jackets are traditional workwear often used as weatherproof outerwear or heavy duty rainwear.

as a form of fun speculation, i'd like to think some of these items are also in his closet:

contrast collar canvas jacket

an authentic flight jacket

overalls, but only for when he fixes up the car

denim trucker jacket

if anything, who better to listen to when talking about tommy's clothes than tommy himself !

here's lou's cameo for me describing tommy's closet as rugged, practical and useful :))

[about "buck's britches"]

now to the "buck's britches" post. two notable items of clothing:

the famous flight jacket

baker pants.

now here's the thing about buck:

buck doesn't wear utilitarian clothing. in fact, he doesn't wear woven clothing all that much. he wears knit. knit polos. sweaters. hoodies. he is not a workwear person. in fact: he's a comfort person.

that's his primary reason for style that's a testament to his own character. buck is widely recognized as the more radiant and funny character. he has charisma and is very inviting, which is accompanied by his choice in clothing.

soft, warm, comfortable.

which goes back to the photo ostark posted on his instagram story.

(1) flight jacket - here's where i have to go and burst everyone's bubble for a bit. this is only a flight jacket because it's labelled as such. but categorically, it isn't. flight jackets are the classic term for bomber jackets.

bomber jackets (and flight jackets) were workwear used by the military, characterized by garterized cuffs and hems and short bodices. for pilots, they were interchangeable. but modernly, they have some more definable features.

characteristically, flight (or aviator) jackets are leather with shearling or sherpa collars. bomber jackets are the modernized version taking the silhouette and cuff designs and making them more accessible through material choice (linen—like buck—nylon, silk)

(2) baker pants - as the name suggests, it's a piece of kitchen workwear often in twill (which i'd assume is what oliver is wearing), denim, cotton or linen. it's characterized by the topstitching to outline the pockets and diagonal pocket openings (vs. the usual curve).

so very evidently: buck has been influenced by tommy's style. he's wearing woven material versus knit for one. if i were hopeful, i'd say they're exploring one another's style because they're sharing a closet.

[character analysis]

woven fabric as a material is sturdy. it's more structured and does not stretch. think: cotton, linen, rayon, wool, denim. what this means for buck is that, by virtue of being tommy's boyfriend he is introduced to structure, groundedness and maturity.

tommy's closet is filled with utilitarian clothing and workwear. he, as a character, is known to be emotionally grounded and mature and it translates to his clothing.

buck adapting the defining features of his wardrobe shows how much tommy has helped him get off his hamster wheel.

in fact, even the inverse can be noted. when buck asks for a second chance and practices communication towards tommy. he's wearing a woven buttondown. and in emphasizing tommy's desire to make buck comfortable, he's in a hoodie. neither of which are common for one another.

buck and tommy, even through subtle clothing choices are becoming part of one another's world and that makes me so soft as someone whose love language is fashion.

[wishful thinking]

perhaps maybe we could see tommy in a fully casual sweat set? i know that they might be protecting lfjr but man. if i see a hoodie on him. (nqueso, if you can sneak me a photo of him in knitwear ill love you forever i just want to prove my theory right i wont even post it)

if they are putting buck in this sort of attire, my guess (or hope) is that they have tommy ease up too.

it would be nice to show buck's effect on tommy as much as tommy's effect on buck because tommy's an established character and has a backstory that the writers could explore.

so if the 9-1-1 costume designers ever see this:

please put tommy in a sweat set. or a hoodie. (not a zip-up one, im talking real hoodie). i'm willing to compromise with overalls. i see what you're doing with buck's wardrobe, and love it. maybe tommy's could soften up too :))

thanks for reading ! 🫶

[male-us-prison-experience]

WHY AMERICAN PRISONERS HAVE TO WEAR A UNIFORM

In (almost) all American prisons, prisoners are now required to wear a uniform (again). This uniform is either a two-piece, consisting of trousers and a shirt, with the trousers held up by an elastic band around the waist, or a one-piece, a kind of overall, a so-called jumpsuit, which is usually closed at the front with a row of snaps. Nowadays, these uniforms have short sleeves; in cold weather, prisoners often are allowed to wear a sweater underneath.

The appearance of prison uniforms in the United States varies from state to state and from institution to institution, and is usually determined by the prison authorities themselves. The uniforms are either made in a solid color - preferably orange, but also red, pink, green, blue, gray and yellow - or as a horizontally striped kind of zebra suit, colloquially known as 'prison stripes', with black and white stripes being the standard, but green and white, orange and white and red and white also occur.

Such prison stripes have become very popular again, especially in recent decades, and harks back to the classic convict uniform that was common at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century. The current striped uniform differs from this in two respects: the sleeves were still long at the time, and the stripes were much narrower. The jumpsuit version did not exist in the past either.

Prison uniforms are common in most countries, although they are usually not as strikingly designed as the American ones; as far as I know, prison stripes aren’t in use nowadays in any other part of the world. In Europe, it is usually a two-piece uniform in a grey or blue colour, which does not make a prisoner stand out very much in a larger crowd. This one underneath is from England.

In America, too, khaki or a blue type of denim was common in many prisons until a few decades ago. Regularly, it was even still permitted to wear your own clothes, at least in your own cell(block). That has changed. This picture shows a working crew of inmates in Texas.

What are the main reasons why prison authorities require all prisoners to wear a (conspicuous) uniform (permanently)? This is not only done – that morally controversial motive is often certainly present in the background – from the point of view of the call for a certain stigmatization, to make the wearer of such a uniform a social outcast, both to make him feel that himself, and to show him that way to others, the latter as a warning: watch out for this guy.

There are also a number of rational arguments for doing this. Searching for information on the internet, I come to the following motives based on various sites

1.First of all, safety. A (conspicuous) uniform makes a prisoner easily recognizable as such. Bright colours also make him clearly visible from a greater distance. It reduces the risk of escape attempts, because a prisoner is also recognizable to outsiders, and in his uniform it is less easy to mingle with the public unseen.

This is extra important because many prisoners - although usually only those with lighter sentences, and only those who are not considered really dangerous - do community work outside the prison during the day, as cleaning roads or digging fenches.

In order to prevent any escape attempts, they almost always have to wear leg-irons, but a recognizable uniform puts a stop to this too.

This recognizability is increased because the name of the correctional institution is usually printed in capital letters on the back of his uniform, in the case of prison stripes often in read.

Incidentally, that is one reason why prison stripes - also the standard outfit for the chain-gang - have become popular in that case. Since road workers often wear orange clothing, a prisoner in an orange uniform can be more easily confused by the general public. With prison stripes, that risk does not exist. They stand out in the crowd.

2. A uniform emphasizes the equality of all prisoners, and also the sharp distinction with the guards. It makes things much clearer for the latter; the risk of confusing the inmates with visiting outsiders (family, workers, doctors) is then minimal.

The obligation to wear a uniform moreover prevents the development of a visible hierarchy among the prisoners, which can be expressed in the wearing of expensive brand clothing; a discussion that also plays a role with regard to school uniforms. The risk of theft or violent robbery of each other's clothing is thus nil.

A uniform also strengthens the mental awareness of the inmates themselves that they are prisoners now, and thus has a positive influence on their behaviour: they become more compliant, as confirmed by testimonies of their own. This awareness of the loss of their citizen identity together with the loss of their freedom becomes even stronger if their prison number is printed on their uniform too.

A uniform hairstyle – in a number of American prisons, all new prisoners are not only forced to put on a uniform immediately upon arrival, but then also get a complete headshave – also contributes greatly to this. Those two pics underneath shows this transformation, showing a new inmate from Oklahoma before and after his make-over.

3.In line with this: a prison uniform also somewhat prevents gang formation – a major problem in American prisons – because gang members usually want to distinguish themselves by external markings.

The more strictly the uniform requirement is enforced, including THE WAY in which the uniform is worn – in the case of a two-piece shirt tucked into, or not tucked into, the pants, in the case of a jumpsuit all the snaps closed to the last, not only when going to court – the less possible this is. Prisoners are also always explicitly forbidden to make any changes to their uniform themselves, or to provide it with any 'decoration' (which could after all form a certain code).

4.With a prescribed prison uniform, which often (but not always) includes certain footwear, the prison authorities can ensure that all prisoners wear the clothing that, according to the circumstances, is the most practical and safest. No belts in the trousers (but elastic) or laces in the shoes, to prevent suicide. Cotton slippers or plastic sandals, to make it more difficult to run away quickly outside.

Sturdy short boots are often prescribed as work shoes, especially for the chain-gang, because in this case a heavy chain, secured with a padlock, is fastened around the (left) ankle of the prisoner.

Clothing with a minimum number of pockets, so that concealing weapons (and this can also be a knife from the kitchen) or contraband becomes much more difficult. In the two-piece uniform, the trousers have no pocket, the shirt only one, for a handkerchief or glasses. The same applies to the jumpsuit: a small breast pocket for that purpose is all, nothing more.

Jumpsuits have the advantage from a security perspective that they are not only a real eyecatcher, but also that they take a little longer to get rid of (to exchange for other clothing on the run) and offer more protection to the prisoner himself against potential anal rape; with a two-piece uniform, trousers can be pulled down by force more quickly.

5.A fixed uniformstyle also, on the other hand, offers the prison authorities the possibility to differentiate between prisoners themselves, with colour codes. It makes it possible to place prisoners of very different kind who live together in visible categories, from more to less (escape) dangerous. This is also useful for the guards, because then they know more easily who they should pay special attention to. Red in that case usually means dangerous, green safe.

This can also be done in the striped version, where black and white is standard, and red and white (or orange and white) is then also usually considered the biggest security risk, green again as the lowest.

[skzdarlings]

07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.

-

It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground.  With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe. 

After some arguing, you face each other.  You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom. 

You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily.  With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed. 

You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.

There is a minute of silence.   Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent.   It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.    

“My life is a joke,” you say. 

“Yeah,” Seungmin says.  “Your life is a joke.  Ow!”

He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers.  You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare. 

“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks. 

You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.   

“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.     

“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm.  It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove.  “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”

“Funny.”

“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re the other cow.”

“I got it, Seungmin.”

“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”   

This fucking guy.  

Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met.  A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group.   You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way.  You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy.  Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle.   You clashed from your first introduction. 

You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point. 

Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin.  This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours. 

You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered.  You have already spent three days at each other’s throats.  Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again. 

You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket.  With Seungmin, it was on sight. 

Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom.  The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin.   You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating. 

Then Minho returned.  He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you.   You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail.  There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you.   The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho. 

Minho dangled the keys in your face.  

“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”

You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys.  That kitty has claws, mean ones.  Not even you mess with Lee Minho. 

Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed.  You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt.  All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep. 

You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.

“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”

He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better. 

“What do you mean?” he asks.  “Wait, you’re a freak, right?  Is it something kinky?”

He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow.  You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.

“Wait, really?” he asks.  “What the hell.  Why?  What is it?”

“You sound curious.” 

You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve.  You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply.  The tips of his ears are faintly red. 

“Oh, you are curious,” you say.

“Gross, no way.”  He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion.  “Keep it to yourself.  Pervert.”

“Proudly.”

“Wow.”

You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor.  But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation. 

“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks.  “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”

“It’s a hard packer.  You know, a strap-on for wearing out?  A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?”  You list everything with the same pleasant smile.  “Big one too.” 

His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed. 

“Right now?” he says.  His eyes drift down to your jeans.  “You wore… you wore it out?”

“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it. 

“You’re lying,” he says.  He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs.  It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him.  He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly.   “Whoa, wait, seriously?” 

“Dude!”  You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy.  “What the hell, man.  You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”

“Why not? It’s not real.”

“It is in a way!  I can still feel it!”

“You can?”  He pokes it.    

“Yes.” You swat him away.   “Depending on position.”     

“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head.  “Wow.  You have a high opinion of yourself.  Thought you were gonna get lucky?” 

“I did very well for myself, thanks.”

He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own. 

“Not that well,” he says.  “Or you wouldn’t be here.” 

“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say. 

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says.  “I should have known.”  He sighs as if disappointed in you. 

You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.  

Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.

“I have an idea,” you say. 

“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”

“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.” 

“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”

“Why do I even bother?”  You sigh.  “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”

“Fine.”  He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you.  “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”

You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard. 

“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?”  you ask.   

“Yes,” he replies, warily.  “Why?”

“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”

“What!”  He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.

“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.

“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”

“Two things,” you say.  “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension.  And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.” 

“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection.  “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us.  There’s no way he’d believe it.”

“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?” 

You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest.  It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath.   His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he says.  “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”

“I mean, you can try that too,” you say. 

“Shut up.”  He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around.  “Just get down.”

“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back.  You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance.  “You get down. I’m on top.”

“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright.  “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”    

“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”

“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.” 

“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.” 

You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts.  Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket.   Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff. 

“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back.  You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm. 

“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back. 

“I’m not doing anything.  Ahh, stop that!”

He tires to lick you.  Tongue out, he dives at your head.  He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back. 

“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.

“Immature?” you ask, aghast.  “You were trying to lick me!”

“That was different.”

“How?”  

“Because you suck,” he says. 

He manages to get his glasses back.  He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face. 

You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other.  Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips.  Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands.  He strains for one pitiful push.  His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall. 

You lift an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.

“I can hear your ugly face.”

“That’s a you problem.”

He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again.  All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy.  Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.  

Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily.  He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.  

Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants.  You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric.  When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.

It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too.  He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you. 

“What the hell was that?” he asks. 

You let go of his hips immediately. 

“Nothing,” you say.

He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again.   You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you. 

“Can you feel that?” he asks.  He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas. 

“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first.   “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly.  This… is… one of them.” 

“Wow,” he says.  He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins.  “So… you can feel when I do this?”  He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours. 

“Ohmyff—”  You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you.  “Dude.” 

“Just checking,” he says.  He grabs the headboard and pushes again.  The thud is a soft one. 

You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up.  You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back.   His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.  

His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard.  His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours.  He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses.  Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room.  He swallows.

You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly. 

“Moan or yell or something.  Whatever you normally do in bed.”

“I’m normally quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly.  “Since that mouth never stops.”  

“Why don’t you moan?” 

“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.”  To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion.  The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps. 

He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you.  That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it.  It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder.  You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove.   His eyes go to your arm. 

“Well?” you say.  

He looks at you.  It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath. 

Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat.   You are certain only you can hear it.   He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.

It is, in a word, hot.  Hot as fucking hell.  Oh god.  You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin.  Absolutely not. 

He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it.   He cants his hips and falls back again.  He moans one more time.

Ah, you think.  Fuck. 

You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion. 

You clear your throat.  Seungmin is still staring at you.  You stare back, then your gaze drifts.  The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up.  You gulp. 

“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation.  His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.

He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them.  He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you. 

“So are you,” he says.

“Mine’s not real,” you say.  

“Ohh, so now it’s not real?”  He rolls his eyes.  “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.” 

“You know what I mean, smartass.”  

“If anything yours is more real,” he says.  “Your dick is more deliberate than mine.  I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.” 

That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue.  You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried. 

“So,” is all you say, at a loss. 

He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright.  You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans.  You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously.  He even snarls. 

Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer.  He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button.  He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down. 

You let go of his hand, surprised.  He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants. 

He balks at it. 

“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you. 

Fuck.  It is literally right by his face.  It looks obscene.  Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin. 

“Yes,” you answer in a low voice.  “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”

“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline.  He even cackles a little.  “Action,” he repeats.  “Not ‘making love?’”  His tone is drole. 

“Not really the making love type,” you say. 

“Wow,” he says.  His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face.  He pushes his glasses up his nose.  He glances up at you with that evil smile.   “Same,” he says. 

Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it. 

For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it.  Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal. 

“Jesus fucking—” you start.

He pops off your dick with a wet sound.   He licks his lips. 

“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully.  “Tastes funny.   Could you feel that?”

“Kinda,” you squeak.  “In a way.”

“Got it.” 

Is this even turning him on?  His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm.   He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it. 

“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit.  He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you. 

It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops.  He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.

“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth. 

Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs.  You stare at him.

“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural.  “Yes.” 

He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself. 

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says.  “I thought it would be more complicated.  I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?” 

Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop. 

“Uh, yeah,” you say.  “Yeah.”  What the fuck else are you supposed to say? 

He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it.  He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself. 

“Oh,” he says.  He looks at his fingertips.  “I see.” 

Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth. 

“Right,” you say.  “Got it.” 

You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband.  You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest. 

“Slippers first,” he says.  

He is just being difficult.  You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper.  You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot.  He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart.   You shake your head but remove that one too.  Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest.  His glasses slip a little again.  His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them. 

“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form. 

“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband. 

You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open. 

“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick.   “No way.  No way.” 

Kim Seungmin.  Blazer-and-tie good boy.  Pristine socialite.   Arrogant snob.   High society darling.   Spoiled brat.  Good boy.  Good boy.   Good boy. 

He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick. 

He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him. 

“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb.   It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake. 

“S-surprised?” he asks. 

“Honestly, yeah,” you admit. 

He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you.  That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down. 

His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected.  He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down.  You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him. 

“Louder,” you say.  “Remember?”

“Oh, right.”  He drops his hand.  “Your stupid plan.  Okay.  Continue.”  He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows. 

He is so annoying.  He really does have a pretty dick, though.  Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him.  He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully. 

You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you.  He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.  

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching.  It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage. 

Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips.  You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss.  It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours.  He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity.  The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too. 

You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth. 

Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder.  He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.  

You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence.  Eventually he lifts his head and exhales.  He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins. 

“I won,” he says.

“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.

“Yes you can, and I just did.  Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Oh my god.” 

Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual.  You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks.  It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed.  You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor. 

You look over Seungmin who was watching too.  When you make eye contact, you both start laughing.  It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one.  Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own.  He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.

Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open.  It smashes into the wall, startling both of you. 

Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room.  He slams the door shut behind him. 

You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys. 

“Told you,” you say. 

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face.  It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind. 

Your wrist is still cuffed.  He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard.   You tug on it then look at him. 

“Kim Seungmin,” you say. 

“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “I’m winning.”

You decide not to argue for once.   It goes without saying you both won this round. 

[thecranberriesslut]

Californication

Summary: You and your best friends dad commit sin on family vacay.

Pairing: no-outbreak! Joel Miller x Fem!Reader ’Cara’

Wc: about 3k

Warnings: The age gap is girthyyyy (Joel is 40-something, reader is 18), dirty themes, smut, read at your own risk, inappropriate jokes.

Notes: It’s my first fanfic posted on this account so please be nice, also english is not my first language so sorry for any typos, also you decided to read this so don’t complain about the age cap, it’s legal guys…

Californication Pt. 2

Californication, Pt. 3

The sky is bleeding shades of gold and orange over the navy blue early morning shade, only a couple of stars still visible from the night before. You shift in your bed uncomfortably, not having been able to sleep almost the entire night, mostly due to pure excitement. Luckily, your alarm sounds, and you get up to turn it off. 7:01, you manage to make out as your eyes adjust to the morning hue. You gather your honey-blonde hair and tie it up, so it's out of your face. As you retrieve your phone from charging on your bedside table, you see 4 new messages from Sarah, your best friend since grade school, right when you moved to the suburbs from New York.

You love Sarah, you have from the very first moment you met her. When you had just moved to a new house, and you felt all blue until you saw a beautiful blonde girl about your age in the yard next to yours-- wearing denim overalls with flowers on them, reading a book and eating a strawberry popsicle. She saw you looking through the window, and yelled to ask you whether you wanted a popsicle too. Sarah was an angel-- unfortunately, you were the fucking devil, especially when it came to Sarah's father.

Joel Miller-- You had begun to notice his appeal in the seventh grade, right around the time you started feeling things while watching that one scene in titanic. When you happened to scrape your knee outside Sarah's house and Joel had to patch you up. He lifted you onto their bathroom counter and placed a hello kitty band-aid on your knee, while looking up at you with his dark brown, captivating eyes and giving your knee a kiss. He told you that you were such a good girl for being so brave. You, being a horny 13-year-old, thought about that for months. He was your sexual awakening.

And now you're 18, still not able to look at him without your face growing hot, and your knees nearly giving out, going on spring vacation to Palm springs with your parents, Sarah, and Joel.

“Cara, are you up? We're leaving in two hours, with or without you!”

You hear your mom's perky voice yell from downstairs, she can be quite dramatic. But you wouldn't change her for anything.

“Yeah, mom!”

You quickly gather yourself and make a mental note to not think absolutely anything dirty about Joel 'sex god' Miller while on vacation. You answer Sarah's anxiously worded texts about what to pack for the vacation, and whether she can wear a bikini or will your mom think it's too whorish. The thing you love about Sarah is how much she thinks about stuff, she knows your mom loves her, and still, she's worried. You tell Sarah not to worry, and that you'd already packed, because you can think ahead too. You move onto picking an outfit for the trip.

It has to be something cute, but not too cute so my parents don't get suspicious-- but Joel has to like it.

You think to yourself, and then go on to curse yourself for thinking about Joel, and what he might like. You need to get yourself together. He's like 40, not to mention your best friend's father. You settle on some classic Levi's 501 shorts and a white Brandy Melville long sleeve, because the morning dew can cause a chilliness in the air. You decide on no makeup, and to wear your hair down, unstyled. You hurriedly grab the last of your things, phone charger, bikini-- a book.

Furthermore, you grab a Red Bull from the fridge quickly before you make it down to the driveway. Sarah's already sitting in the backseat of your moms gray sedan, and Joel's loading up their stuff. You feel weak as you see Joel, he's wearing a black t shirt that shows off his sweat glazed biceps and that damn cross necklace hanging around his neck. God-- there's something in you melting right now, and it is not from the heat outside.

“Hey darlin', need any help with that?”

Joel asks, in his low voice, smooth like whiskey, topped with the most charming southern drawl imaginable.

“Uhm, yeah! Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

You smile at him as you hand over your suitcase, trying to paint your face with an attractive smile, it is probably coming off as shy and adolescent if anything. Joel smiles back, the kind of smile that could stop traffic, and he pats you on your lower back, his hand lingering there for a second too long to be considered innocent. Even after he lets go, the heat of his big hand lingers there.

“It's no problem, a pretty lil' girl like you shouldn't be doin' heavy lifting, go on sit down, Sarah's in the car already.”

You go in the car, ready to blame the heat for your fiery crimson cheeks if it comes up. You hug Sarah excitedly and your parents carry the rest of the stuff to the car. You almost choke on your Red Bull as you see Joel opening the back door and motioning you to sit in the middle so he can fit in the back. Reluctantly, you move to the middle seat, as close to Sarah as possible, so you don't accidentally brush up against her smoke show of a father and go even more red than you knew to be humanly possible.

---------

After a long 5-hour drive of sitting next to Joel as still as you could, avoiding sliding closer to him during bumps in the road, and trying not to look at the slight bulge in his shorts. You were exhausted. You were so aroused and embarrassed, you feared that in the span of 5 hours Joel had noticed your horniness, had thought it was super gross, and had somehow telepathically told your parents about it. You were pulled out of your thoughts as the car came to a stop in front of a gorgeous white beach villa and Joel patted your thigh.

“Finally here, bet you're dyin' to stretch those legs, huh?”

He fucking knew. And now you needed to find the nearest hole in the ground and bury yourself in it. You just let out an awkward laugh as he got out of the car, and tried to console yourself.

He doesn't know anything, you are being paranoid.

You and Sarah managed to get out of the car, and you almost dropped your phone when you saw it.

“There's a huge fucking pool!”

You yelled in utter shock and excitement.

“Watch your mouth, young lady!”

Your dad yelled from behind the car. You and Sarah just laughed as you ran inside the villa, the tile floor freezing in contrast to the scorching hot air, you ran to the biggest bedroom and claimed it for you and Sarah. There was a huge king-sized bed laying in the middle of the room with expensive looking white sheets, and pillow mints set on the pillows.

“I could get used to this.”

You exclaimed, joking with a certain sense of indifference, as you unwrapped the pillow-mint. Sarah only laughed and said something about her dad, before he appeared in the doorway with our bags.

“Speak of the devil.”

Sarah said.

“You were talkin' 'bout me?”

Joel asked, a smug smile on his face, as he set our bags down with ease. The veins in his forearms prominent as his muscles bulged. He was strong, like-- incredibly strong, those bags weighed a lot, and he lifted them with not as much as a grunt. His rich dark brown hair fell over his eyes and he pulled it back with his hands, revealing some gray salt and pepper hairs underneath.

“Yeah, Cara was saying how embarrassing you were in the car.”

Sarah said nonchalantly, rolling her eyes and smiling at you. You were horrified. First of all, you were already terrified of Joel and now the fact that he probably thought you disliked him.

“I didn't say that! I-”

You defended yourself frantically, until Joel interrupted you.

“Sure you didn't, you lil' troublemaker. Your dad 'oughta teach you a lesson about respectin' adults.”

He joked. You couldn't say anything back, just stare at him as he turned to leave the room.

“Gosh, my dad's embarrassing.”

Sarah complained.

“No he's fine.”

You said quietly. Joel's jokes sounded like normal jokes to everyone else, but if you were a horny 18-year-old avid dirty book reader, his jokes always had a dirty undertone to them. Like that one time he suggested he bend you over and spank you for stealing some of his beers with Sarah. His words always had an effect on you, and sometimes you felt like he was doing it on purpose. Although every time he joked, you tried to hide behind your shy, enigmatic personality and not reveal that you had just gotten hornier than ever.

You had all settled in by the time the sun was starting to set, your parents had gone out for a walk and Sarah wanted to go scout the surrounding area for shops and things to do. So you were alone at the villa-- with Joel. You hadn't dared to leave your room yet, but your stomach was begging you to go get food already, and you had no other choice. So you gathered your courage and went into the kitchen, Joel was nowhere to be seen. You opened up the fridge to see a tuna sandwich, and came to the conclusion that it was probably for the road trip, and you could eat it now. So you took a bite, and felt someone's eyes on you, you turned around to see Joel wearing only his swimming trunks, hair soaking wet, and his abs glistening, as he dried them with a white towel.

“So... now the naughty girl is stealin' sandwiches too, huh?”

He accused you playfully, while dragging the towel across his body lazily, as if trying to torture you.

“What? I- I didn't know this was yours-”

You were quick to defend yourself.

“Relax, Cara.”

He said, a sly smile painting his beautiful face. The way your name rolled off his tongue felt like a direct attack to the tough exterior you were trying to keep up around him, and it went straight to your core.

“I'm jus' jokin' with you, you're always so tense around me, why is that?”

He asked, his voice remaining velvety smooth.

“Uhm... no, I'm not.”

You tried to sound convincing, you didn't. The way you fidgeted with your shirt hem and always slightly lowered your head when you spoke to him, suggested that you were genuinely afraid of him. But you weren't, just head over heels in lust. Wrongful lust.

“You jus' seem nervous is all... is everything all right?”

He asked as he walked slowly closer, like a predatory cat, he was a tall man, well over 6 foot. As he got closer, he started to tower over you in an intimidating but undeniably attractive manner. His build was strong, he looked like a man who could throw you across the room and not break a sweat.

“I'm not nervous.”

You lied. He looked at you knowingly, like a teacher who had just caught you cheating and was about to embarrass you in front of the entire classroom. He brought his big rugged hand to your forehead and made a caressing motion, you were confused until he held his hand to the light and confronted you.

“You're sweatin', and it ain't even that hot in here, you're also red as a beet.”

He smiled, having caught you in a lie. You were about to say something, but he stopped you.

“You know, lyin's not nice-- only bad girls lie.”

“What are you, my father?”

You clapped back, soon to realize that was a mistake. Because he placed his hand on your chin gently, but in a way that was meant to intimidate you, and forced you to look straight in his dark, scary eyes.

“No, and you're damn lucky I ain't, cause I'd sure as hell punish you for lyin' to me, make you respect your daddy.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you could feel the familiar redness rising to your cheeks. He dropped your chin and laughed a hearty laugh.

"Listen, kiddo, I'm jus' messin' with ya.”

“Oh!”

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding and tried to shake off your dirty thoughts.

He didn't say anything sexual, you are just a weird ass dirty minded virgin.

“And I'd work on hidin' your emotions better. Gettin' all worked up by your best friend's father callin' himself daddy-- you are one sick puppy.”

His crude words should have disgusted you, you should've felt gross or violated or something, but you didn't. All your feelings were overpowered by one. Complete intoxicating arousal, purely from his words. You didn't have a lot of time to gather yourself when you heard the door and saw Sarah walking inside with something in her hands.

“What do you have?”

You asked, curious. Sarah held the items up, and you could make out two bagels and two diet cokes. You smiled like you had just seen a million dollars.

“I love you so much!”

You screamed as you ran for the bagels.

“I thought you'd probably be starving, I found this cute ass little café down the road.”

You took the bagels and headed to your room. Feeling extremely guilty about what had happened with her dad just moments prior, how could he just say something so-- vigorous out of nowhere, and now you had to pretend it didn't happen. You placed the bagels on the bed and changed your denim shorts into your comfortable pink Hollister mini shorts, you took out your MacBook and scrolled endlessly, trying to find something for you both to watch.

“Can we watch The Kardashians?”

You asked Sarah, she just nodded a quick yeah and bit into her bagel. You watched the show until it was very late, the sun had set completely, and the only sound throughout the house was the quiet hum of an air conditioner. Sarah was half asleep, you had almost forgotten about the whole thing with his dad already.

It's fine, you were just reading too much into it, he didn't mean anything by it.

You were way too in your thoughts to go to sleep, so you decided that a little midnight swim could do you good. You changed into a tan Burberry bikini and retrieved a white towel from your closet, and made your way to the massive pool. The air felt warm, the night had brought a cold breeze, but the heat of the day still lingered in the air, almost like a memory. The water was warm, it was sitting there day after day in the heat, so it had gathered some of it. You could easily just go all the way in, it felt heavenly-- After having swam a couple of laps you lifted your head out of the pool. You almost drowned when you saw Joel, crouched by the side of the pool, staring at you and smiling.

“Fuck! You scared me!”

You screamed at him. Coughing out some water you had accidentally swallowed when you saw him.

“Sorry... was jus' enjoyin' the view.”

He said, smugly. You decided that if he wanted to play games, you would play along. You splashed him with water so his sweatpants and white tee got soaking wet, and smiled at him-- challenging him.

“Whoa! Kitty's got claws... But you ain't a brave girl.”

“Why's that?”

You asked, swimming closer to him and holding onto the border of the pool, inches from him. The light of the moon reflected on you from the water. The air smelled like smoke, brittlebush, and chlorine.

I probably look fucking ethereal right now.

You thought to yourself, feeling confident, trying your best to give Joel 'fuck me' eyes, something you'd learned while reading one of your grotesque books.

“You know I can't come in that pool, you're hidin' out 'cause you know you shouldn't challenge me.”

If there was ever a time to be courageous, this was it. You lifted yourself out of the pool slowly, Joel observed you with a slight sparkle in his eye. You got out of the pool and slowly walked over to your towel to dry yourself off. Joel laughed a low, hearty laugh.

“I guess I was wrong.”

He said, holding his hands up in defeat.

“So, what are you doing up this late?”

You asked him, party curious, partly trying to relieve the tension.

“Oh, well darlin' if I told you I'd be considered a dirty, bad man. Let's jus' say I couldn't sleep.”

To be continued.

[prythiansprincess]

style | the slytherin boys.

author's note: just a silly little post about what I personally think each boy's aesthetic would be.

TOM is dark academia.

blazers, houndstooth vests, tweed jackets, oxford shoes, classic white button ups, plaid trousers, tortoiseshell glasses, and tailored coats.

REGULUS is light academia.

white billowy shirts, wingtips, slim fit trousers, uni jumpers, suspenders, silk button downs, argyle vests, and family heirloom necklaces.

MATTHEO is soft grunge.

tattered band tees, classic chuck taylors, faded flannels, shredded black denim jeans, leather jackets, cargo pants, beat up doc martens, and chunky rings.

THEO is indie skaterboy.

oversized patterned jumpers, carhartt jackets, vintage graphic tees, baggy jeans, chunky chain necklaces, high top vans, beanies in every color, and tote bags.

DRACO is old money.

tailored suits, perfectly pressed dress shirts, italian leather shoes, silk pocket squares, neutral turtlenecks, expensive wristwatches, dark dress pants, and family heirloom rings.

BLAISE is preppy athleisure.

rugby shirts, cricket sweaters, new balance trainers, fleece sweatpants, puffer jackets, monogrammed socks, functional fanny packs, and bucket hats.

ENZO is cottagecore.

chunky knit sweaters, floral print button downs, denim overalls, pastel vests, gingham shirts, corduroy pants, crochet scarves, and homemade friendship bracelets.

[ashstfu]

How would you describe the way you dress?

i stick to the classics: tailored blazers, crisp white shirts, cashmere, and perfectly cut trousers. also lots of denim, simple tees, slip dresses and statement accessories. i always aim for a sleek, polished, and slightly moody vibe. a look that’s both commanding and subtly alluring. overall i would say that my style is effortlessly elegant, versatile and exudes a quiet confidence :)

[overalls4all]

Harry was running a little late meeting up with his friends Mike and Jack. They were volunteering to help out at an Overalls for All meeting, setting up chairs and the catered dinner. Harry entered the meeting hall in his denim shirt and classic blue denim overalls. He waved towards his friends, already working.

"Overalls for All, guys!" Harry shouted, pulling at his bib.

"Overalls for All, Harry!" Mike and Jack shouted back, returning the gesture as well. Mike was wearing duck brown overalls with a flannel, and Jack was in blue denim overalls and a red shirt.

"Sorry I'm late. I was finishing chopping some firewood," Harry explained.

Jack laughed, "Only you would be late for being too damn manly, Harry!" He clapped Harry on the back, his fingers lightly grasping at the straps playfully.

"Well we got most of the place set up already," Mike added. "We just need your help hanging the banner."

The three men pulled up some ladders to hang a hug banner behind the speaker's podium. The banner was all-too familiar to Harry. He remembered the first time he saw it set up in the park. A group of strong, broad-shouldered men were speaking with me in the park, all of them clad in overalls. It struck Harry as odd at that time. Little did he suspect one day he would only wearing overalls and supporting that same group, Overalls for All.

The banner hung in the meeting hall featured an image of men, all groomed conservatively and wearing classic denim overalls. The words OVERALLS FOR ALL were written above them. Harry couldn't help but smile at the banner. He used to feel so lost in life. But Overalls for All offered something to him - a purpose, a chance to make change in his life and his community.

Jack stood next to Harry, chest full of pride, "It's amazing isn't it?"

Harry turned to his friend, "Huh?"

"Amazing how much has changed. Overalls for All started as a small grassroots movement. Now we have chapters all across the country from big cities to small towns. Our brothers are changing this nation," Jack explained as he grabbed his overalls straps with clear pride.

Mike patted his bibs, "I know it changed me! Remember me before overalls? I was so lazy and unmotivated."

"Totally," Harry said. "You could hardly hold down a job!"

"And now I'm working down at the shop, like a real man!" Mike beamed, happy to mention his new job at the auto shop.

"We're really doing something meaningful here," Harry said. "I finally feel like I'm a part of something bigger than myself. If it all it takes is wearing overalls, I am happy to do so."

"I can't wait until every man has to wear overalls like us," Mike was quick to add.

"We're getting there, brothers," Jack reminded them. After all, membership in Overalls for All was increasing by thousands every week across the country. Whole families and even small towns of men were wearing overalls. A few of those small towns even passed overalls ordinances requiring bibs for all men. That is the ultimate goal of Overalls for All. All men are meant to wear overalls. Overalls instill masculine values and remind us all to work-hard and conform to traditional masculinity. It's our duty to wear overalls and spread Overalls for All to all men!

[hinamie]

hi hina! if you were yuuji, megumi, and nobara's personal stylist (you already kind of are 🙂‍↕️) what's an outfit you would pick that represents their casual style and one look that represents fancy attire? and what's an absolute No for each of them?

SORRY FOR GETTING TO THIS LATE i have . fashion opinions and need 2 articulate them Properly. gomen ik this isn't /exactly/ what u asked this is moreso just. my style headcanons fr each of them but i think it more or less gets the point across gFGHDSHFGJ.

will get long btw :')

yuuji:  casual: 

i loveloveLOVE him in jean jackets . since a hoodie is a staple for him that + a jean jacket i think is The Go-To fit for him hands down i think he pulls it off so well. u can even ditch the hoodie to opt for a baggy graphic T shirt but the jean jacket carries the fit.  it’s so casual n classic which helps it be ~versitile~ and it's just boyish enough to rly suit yuuji’s character. I have him in distressed jeans (grey or dark wash blue, as long as it’s a different shade of denim) whenever i can bc i think it looks good but athletic pants (think like adidas jogger-shaped) work also . add red sneakers of choice accessorize that boy with a gym bag or backpack Bam yuuji fit. 

formal: 

i feel very strongly about yuuji in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. no suit jacket fr him but definitely a tie and a waistcoat + straight leg trousers. i want to keep a pop of red on him so the safe option wld b to make his tie red but i think maybe he could pull off a maroon dress shirt + black everything else combo. important thing is He Wears Red :)

no’s:

honestly I can picture yuuji in most anything but i don’t think he wears long structured jackets, even fr fancy outfits. he’s too stocky of a build and i think a long jacket makes him look shapeless in a bad way i think mid-thigh is as long as i’d be willing 2 go for his outerwear, though im sure with the right fit i could b convinced otherwise

megumi:  casual: 

tl;dr: loose sweater over turtleneck/over collared shirt i feel SO strongly about megumi in loose straight silhouettes. HEAVY on the grey/black neutrals with the occasional cool jewel tone (green or teal u know how it is) though i do also like him in a chocolate brown! it is important 2 me also that whatever pants he wears r not too baggy since his top will have a lot of that Chunkiness to it and u need some shape n slimness 2 the leg 2 balance it out. this overall silhouette on megu >>>>>>>

formal:

unlike yuuji i Do think megumi could pull off a suit jacket or maybe even a blazer but whatever it is u best bet this boy is in All Black . I also like him in a turtleneck instead of a dress shirt but if we button him up Completely i think it achieves more or less the same look 

no’s: 

ok i have a couple but my biggest one is Fushiguro Megumi Does Not Wear Shorts end of story no further elaboration. also, this is slightly more forgiveable but like w yuuji i would avoid him in long jackets Also, altho fr the opposite reason . it’s not tht he’s too stocky for it rather i think he’s too lanky n a long coat runs the risk of drowning him — again situational tho !!!!! he would probably look good in a black wool coat so i will entertain the possibility . 

also listen. this is a personal headcanon and ik it likely puts me in the minority and i may even get flack fr this . but i do not think fushiguro megumi would have piercings. i know ive drawn him with earrings before but listen those were for Me . those were for the fit. he was an acting mannequin. but just him??? his personal feelings?? i just have a hard time thinking that boy is th type 2 put metal in his face sue me :’/ 

nobara:  casual: 

this is so hard because a. women’s fashion has SO many more options b. nobara is 100% the type to have a different style every week and c. she looks good in all of it. I think though i like her best in long skirts and layers so something along these lines is a Hard yes from me, though possibly with a brighter colour palette

formal:

i had Other ideas but god just spoke to me through pinterest by showing me this dress and this is all i want to see nobara in actually. 

(((real talk tho in terms of fancy dresses I like her in black/gold/red/pink for colours, either baby doll or bell skirts, strapless sweetheart necklines,, etc etc etc)))

no’s: 

similar to yuuji, I don’t have many things that i picture as off-limits for nobara fashion-wise bc she seems the type to experiment :’) I think any faux-pas i can name r just my own fashion icks so i’ll just go with those: no low rise and no full skin-tight fits (ik i said she seems down for anything but i think she draws the line @ athleisure). also maybe a pocket pick but i don't think she would wear orange or hot pink on account of her hair

[kosije]

a/n: never have unprotected sex with strangers! only read about it <3 also this is a old work i just added a bit onto...

cw: mdni, mechanic!hawks x fem!reader, use of doll/ma'am/miss, unprotected sex, missionary, pretty vanilla, simp behavior by hawks, reader calls him keigo, corny dialogue, horrible capitalization (im so srry), probably wont edit this lol...

It's been hours. It's been hours and you're dripping sweat despite the multitude of cold drinks you've ingested from the vending machine in your local auto care. You just took your car in for an oil change and regretted not getting a bus ride back. The more the round clock above the register desk clicked, the more impatient you're getting and the smell of gasoline was hurting your head. After bobbing your leg up and down a little more, you decide to just go out and check on your car.

"Hey! Uh, my car was scheduled to be done 30 minutes ago. Is there any way I can check on it right now? Do you have an ETA of some sort?"

The receptionist, a dark-haired boy with a red choker, looks up empathetically before clicking his keyboard.

"Sorry miss, I dunno much about that, but let me call up your mechanic. What number are you?"

"3389"

"3....3....8- oh Hawks is working on that one! I'll call to see if you can get buzzed in, but no need to worry. He is our fastest and most skilled mechanic, so your car will be good as new as soon as he's done."

The boy's voice becomes the slightest bit animated and you feel your annoyance tone down. But you didn't care if it was "good as new," just as long as you could get home safe.

"Okay, thank you."

His fingers quickly punch into a corded phone before a voice comes on the other line.

"He said it should be done in 2, but you're more than welcome to go in."

You nod and thank the teen before stumbling past wired gates and stray cigarettes before finding your car. It looks damn good. Originally a somewhat hand-me-down from your mother to yourself, it was always beautiful on the outside. The silhouette was a classic thing. real sleek and "real groovy" according to your mother. But the upsides stopped at the exterior.

The ac was loud, and the radio was spotty. Even the leather seats were chipping, despite the multitude of repairs you've paid for out of pocket.

But now the car looks brand new. The shell of your car is clean and shiny. When you open the door, you're pleasantly surprised by the smell of musky cologne and your clean linen car freshener, and even more surprised when you can't see where the patches of missing leather are. you almost let yourself smile before realizing this might be a scam to force you to pay for the advancements.

You're too busy peeking into your interior to notice another person walking up.

"Is this ya car, or you lookin' for a ride to jack?"

You flinch slightly but recover yourself well enough to turn to face the deep voice and a rush of heat flushes over you. Sharp amber eyes run over your figure as you busy yourself with getting a good look at the man leaning against the bumper of your car. messy blonde hair, healthy tan, scruff, and muscular. All things you like, except (so far) his personality.

"And you are?"

"The mechanic, doll," He replies in a "duh" voice, slipping his arms out of his dirtied blue denim overalls and crossing them over the other. You don't miss how his biceps flex slightly at the gesture.

"You got anything else to ask, or are you jus’ gonna keep checking me out?"

"I wasn't checking you out."

"Whatever makes you feel better," He laughs, walking up only to lean on the steel table behind you.

"Look this is my car-" He cuts you off by reading your name off a stray paper that has dirt and oil on it, raising an eyebrow and you nod a confirmation.

He offhandedly purrs something about the name being pretty, and you have to consciously ignore the burn in your cheeks.

"Just tell me how much the repair is gonna cost," the question comes out with a sigh, and now it's your turn to cross your arms. It's done out of attitude, but when his eyes lower to focus on your chest, electricity trickles down your spine.

"You gonna answer or keep checking me out?"

coughing and readjusting himself on the table, he tells you $110.

"Are you kidding? The oil change was 60!"

"I did a whole lot besides an oil change, doll"

"without my consent! This has got to be illegal!" 

"Well, how about this?" he says, moving closer to you, and you can now see just how much he dwarfs you in size. "You pay $40 bucks, and let me take you out to dinner."

well... that wasn't something you were expecting.

"I don't know you."

"I know."

"You don't know me."

"Let's change that then." He says. The smirk he has is toothy and could almost be seen as sweet if he didn't just try to scam you out of $50. After another beat of silence, he talks again.

"Don't be brutal, doll. You know you're just as excited to see where this goes."

"I don't usually date scammers." You finally say, but it's meek and you instantly regret it because all he does is smile wider.

"There's a first for everything."

... 

You don't know why you agreed and gave him your number and address. But you did. You also don't know why you're wearing such an expensive dress and perfume. Or why you're putting on makeup. But you are. It was all too elaborate for a one-off date with a random man. Nevertheless, here you were, crouching down to put your bobby pins in your hair because your dress didn't allow for enough movement.

There are three quick knocks at your door before you hear Hawk's voice. 

"I'm starving, doll. Don't leave me like this." 

Bastard

You quickly give yourself a one-over and head to the door. When you open it you see Hawks, except he looks different. His hair is neatly brushed back, and he swapped his stronger cologne for a much more elegant one that matches even better with yours. simple suit and tie with square-cut earrings.

"you look good" he looks better than good, but you don't wanna say anything that'll inflate his ego more.

"you look perfect," and he punctuates it by saying your name instead of 'doll' and you like the way it sounds more than you thought.

Hovering over you now with one arm on the doorframe. He stretches out a hand with a small grin.

"May I? " You place your hand in his.

"You May."

...

5 things you've learned about Hawks Keigo so far

1. his real name is Keigo, hawks being a nickname he got in his youth because of his speed and eyes

2. his hand is much larger than yours

3. he has great taste in restaurants

4. his favorite food is yakitori (a new favorite of yours too)

5. he's ready to go back to your place

"How was your food?"

"It was actually... great"

"C'mon, don't act all reluctant! This restaurant has never done me wrong!" He says as you shift the air conditioner to fan your face and turn the radio up a bit.

"Right, yakitori connoisseur. I can see why you'd take your dates here."

"You're the first." He says emphasizing the last part with a sly look over to your spot in the passenger seat of his Mercedes. It's an admission that has a smile threatening to find a home on your lips, but you turn your head to face outside the window and he chuckles knowingly.

"Or are you saying this should now be the spot? Cuz I could make that work."

"You sure know how to ruin a mood." You're laughing at his feigned hurt expression as he steers with one hand while the other goes over his heart.

"How rude!" He says before the hand over his heart falls to your thigh and suddenly you're hyperaware of how warm he is. "I'll make sure this spot is special to just you."

If the hand on your thigh wasn't enough, the sincerity of his tone has you reeling and reaching over his middle console to kiss him. Soft, short, and sweet on his cheek. You can hear his breath hilt and the smell of his cologne is stronger. When you pull back, you can see the mark of your lipstick on his cheek. And his hand squeezes your thigh tighter.

"You're driving me crazy, doll."

"...was that a pun because you're driving?"

"What?"

"I said-" 

he dramatically turns up the radio and you roll your eyes when he excessively mouths 'I can't hear you!' 

"YOU'RE LUCKY THIS SONG IS GOOD!" you yell into his ear and he laughs, drawing circles onto your thigh with his thumb. The ride back to your apartment is shorter than you'd like, but at least he walks you up to your door, right?

"I don't usually invite scammers into my house."

"yeah?" he asks, hands already on your waist and head tilted.

"but there's a first for everything, isn't there?"

"id like that," he says, smiling down at you as you walk backward into your living room.

His lips are feverish on yours, tongue exploring as deep as it can into your mouth until his and your lips are purple and swollen before drawing purple bruises all over your neck and chest, just over your tits. Your body is hot and you hurriedly pull your arms out of your dress and shimmy it off-eliciting a pleasured hum when he finds that you're not wearing a bra- as he quickly tosses his button-up and jacket before his lips are back onto yours. Your hands wrap around Keigo's neck and his hands cup under your ass and lift you up.

"First door on your right." 

Following your instructions, he walks with you to his arms to your room and tosses you on the familiar sheets of your bed.

"Do you want this?" he asks, hands working on his belt

"Please."

His jaw clenches, and in a second he's bare in front of you.

And big. Much bigger than you think you can take. Thick veins wrap around his cock and you can tell he shaved just for tonight. He runs a finger up and down your clothing slit. Your lips part and a soft sigh rolls off your tongue.

"Don't be a tease."

"Yes ma'am," his finger hooks on the edge of your lace panties and slides them off before running his cock up and down to gather your slick with a quiet groan. Without warning, he slides into you, and you're both vocal. after letting you adjust to his length, he slowly starts moving inside of you, then faster and you're whining around him.

"so pretty," comes out a gasp when his hands pull your legs over his shoulders.

"yer so pretty. And yer the tightest lil' thing I've ever had. Why don't we make an h-habit of this, hmm?" 

"The sex or–fuck–dinner?" You ask, trying to slow the coil in your gut with deep breaths.

"Both."

"That sounds like dating." 

"It's not–shiit"

"How so?" You ask, moaning into the back of your hand when he switches his angle and hits that spot that has you seeing stars.

"You don't date scammers," he says and you would laugh if you didn't have drool sliding down the side of your mouth. His eyes flicker to it and when he licks it up, only to kiss it back into your mouth, and your nails find his back and rake over the skin in an attempt to ground yourself.

"So...what...' bout...it," he asks between kisses and you roll your eyes. When you don't answer, he grunts and stalls all movements.

"What-"

"Answer me and I'll move." 

His eyes widen as he watches you move up and down on your own.

"Stubborn," he whispers out, still wide-eyed when his lips split into a grin. "you won't be able to fuck yerself the way I do it. So just be good 'nd-"

"Yes." you bite out. Your pride feels robbed, but you can tell he's right when you feel your stomach ache.

"Yes, what?"

He's moved again, but it's too slow for your liking and leaves you irritated. You're exactly where he wants you, and so—reluctantly — you mutter:

"Let's make this a habit!" 

An uncharacteristically soft hand cups your cheek and your stomach twist.

"I knew you could be good for me," he says, lips pressing into the side of your mouth and you're writhing. 

Speeding up again, you feel that familiar flame of pleasure ignite within you and tangle your hands into his blonde strands. The room is filled with slaps and moans and if you weren't so fucked out, you might've been able to hear your headboard knocking against the wall and how the mess of your nightstand slightly bounces from the source. Praises are whispered in between messy thrusts and you try your best to focus on the sweat running down your back to let the feeling of him inside you last longer, but your toes are curled and can taste blood from how hard you’re biting down on your lip. 

“Don't shy away now, I love that pretty voice of yours,” and his face looks so much in ecstasy that when his tip hits that spot in you again a pornographic moan leaves your lips, and the flood of pleasure hits you is as foreign as it is blissful. You almost gave no control of yourself. barely hushing yourself, barely able to unravel your legs from around his hips, all too consumed in your high. But Keigo is no better. When your legs ease the hold around his hips, he hurriedly pulls out, but not fast enough, and globs of white spray onto your pussy and all over your chest, even up to your neck. He can only pump himself a few more times before he's falling on top of you with a huff, knocking the air out of you. 

"U-P!" you gasp out, hitting his chest until he rolls over with a sheepish look.

"'M sorry," is all that he says before narrowing his eyes when you giggle.

"Didn't know nutting took that much energy out."

"me neither," he says, joining in on your giggles with a squawk-like laugh that makes you laugh even harder. "I've never come that hard."

"I'm flattered." You purr, smiling up at the ceiling. "I don't think ill be able to walk for a couple of days myself."

And you were joking, but when he laughs and hoists himself up with a hand on your thigh, the soreness humbles you and you realize there's more truth to that statement than you care to admit. You point to the bathroom and he nods, disappearing and reappearing with a damp rag and cleans you up. 

"How do you like your baths?"

"Warm." you twitch when he wipes over a sensitive part, earning a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

When he's done, he moves back into your bathroom and you can hear him turn on the faucet, and you stretch to your legs until the water is turned off and he's scooping you into his arms. When you've finished, he offers to carry you back to bed, but you insist on getting back on your own, even if your legs felt a bit wobbly. You slip into something comfortable while he puts on what he had on before, only now it's wrinkled. You expect him to leave immediately after he's dressed.

"what are you going to watch me sleep?"

"just waiting for you to invite me to stay the night"

"not gonna happen," you say and laugh at the way he pouts. "next time, maybe." And now you're laughing harder at how quickly his expression changed to a smile.

He leans down to kiss you long and slow, pulling away to leave a peck on your cheek. 

"Same time next week?" he asks, giving you another peck, this time along your cheek. You mumble an affirmation, eyes blissfully shut as his lips move to our neck.

"and the one after that. " And he's grinning against you again when he says this.

"Overzealous, don't ya think?" not missing the glint in his eyes when they meet yours again. Same gold that seems to shimmer close up.

"Just makin' a habit of it." Is all he says, same beautiful eyes looking down at you, same lopsided grin, now pretty purple marks on his neck. 

And all you can do is say,

"okay, same time next week."

[thetic-core]

different variations of kidcore for all you cuties !!!

Popular Kidcore Variations

Classic Kidcore: Primary colors, alphabet blocks, crayons, and cartoon character motifs (like Lisa Frank or Rugrats).

Rainbowcore: Focuses entirely on rainbows and multicolor patterns.

Toycore: Incorporates childhood toys like LEGOs, Polly Pockets, and plushies.

Cartooncore: Nostalgic 90s and early 2000s cartoons as the main inspiration.

Stickercore: Inspired by Lisa Frank and colorful, holographic stickers.

Candycore: A sweet, candy-themed variation with lollipop and gummy motifs.

Arcadecore: Neon lights, tokens, pinball machines, and arcade game vibes.

Pastel Kidcore: A softer, pastel-toned take on the usual bold kidcore colors.

Nature-Inspired Kidcore Variations

Crittercore: Focuses on bug-catching, backyard animals, and nature exploration.

Gardencore Kidcore: Bright, childlike depictions of gardens with sunflowers, watering cans, and butterflies.

Beachcore Kidcore: Sand buckets, sea creatures, and tropical color schemes.

Dino Kidcore: Features dinosaurs, fossils, and paleontology-themed fun.

Zoo Kidcore: Animals from the zoo with vibrant safari themes.

Bugcore: Bugs like ladybugs, bees, and caterpillars in a playful and non-creepy way.

Media and Technology-Inspired Kidcore Variations

Gamecore: Gameboys, Pokémon, Tamagotchis, and board games.

90s Cybercore Kidcore: Early internet-inspired fun with pixelated graphics and Tamagotchi influences.

Spacecore Kidcore: Rocket ships, aliens, and stars in bright, playful colors.

TVcore: Fuzzy TVs, static screens, and nostalgic childhood shows.

Bookcore: Highlights pop-up books, picture books, and library time nostalgia.

Art and Craft-Inspired Kidcore Variations

Crayoncore: Everything crayon-themed—wax-like textures and doodled patterns.

Craftcore: Pipe cleaners, googly eyes, and DIY craft materials.

Paintcore: Finger painting, rainbow splatters, and coloring outside the lines.

Sticker Album: Focused on collecting and trading stickers.

Fashion-Centric Kidcore Variations

Kaleidoscope: Patterns and textures that feel like looking through a kaleidoscope.

Overalls Kidcore: Denim overalls with colorful patches, mismatched socks, and bright sneakers.

Bowcore: Large bows, ribbons, and hair clips inspired by childhood dress-up.

Dress-Up Kidcore: Fairy wings, tiaras, and dress-up box nostalgia.

Seasonal Kidcore Variations

Summertime Kidcore: Ice cream trucks, sprinklers, and pool floaties.

Winter Kidcore: Snowmen, hot cocoa with marshmallows, and mittens.

Autumn Kidcore: Leaf piles, pumpkin patches, and school supplies.

Springtime Kidcore: Pastel eggs, baby animals, and blooming flowers.

New and Unique Kidcore Variations

Bubblecore: Inspired by bubbles, suds, and translucent iridescent effects.

Glowcore: Glow sticks, neon colors, and things that light up in the dark.

Circuscore: Bright circus tents, popcorn, clowns, and carnival rides.

Birthdaycore: Balloons, streamers, party hats, and confetti explosions.

Puzzlecore: Puzzles, Rubik’s cubes, and brain teasers.

Cerealcore: Breakfast cereal boxes, milk splashes, and cereal mascots.

Paradecore: Colorful parades, confetti, and marching bands.

Treasurecore: Maps, hidden treasures, pirate hats, and playful exploration.

Playgroundcore: Jungle gyms, swings, and hopscotch chalk drawings.

Fantasy Kidcore: Magical castles, unicorns, and glittery fairy dust.

Bubblegumcore: Pink and pastel themes with chewing gum and bubble motifs.

Milkcore: Cartons of milk, cow spots, and nostalgic dairy ads.

Friendshipcore: Best friend necklaces, bracelets, and doodles.

HOLIDAY CENTRIC kidcore variations

Christmas Kidcore: Bright Christmas lights, toy trains, ornaments, gingerbread houses, and Santa motifs.

Halloween Kidcore: Fun costumes, candy buckets, jack-o'-lanterns, and playful spooky decorations.

Valentines Kidcore: Heart-shaped candies, love notes, teddy bears, and pastel pink/red themes.

Easter Kidcore: Bunny ears, pastel eggs, baskets of candy, and floral patterns.

Thanksgiving Kidcore: Hand turkey crafts, pumpkin pies, cornucopias, and warm autumn colors.

New Year’s Kidcore: Party hats, confetti, noise makers, and glittery decorations.

Carnivalcore Kidcore: Masquerade masks, colorful beads, and vibrant parades for Mardi Gras.

Harvest Kidcore: Scarecrows, hay bales, apples, and cheerful harvest festival themes.

Back-to-School Kidcore: Chalkboards, crayons, pencil cases, and notebooks with fun patterns.

[myobsessionsspace]

Who is Kim Young Jin?

The man behind the looks, bringing BTS' vision to life, from photo-folios, to music videos to high fashion magazine photoshoots.

Kim YoungJin and his team have worked with the members as a group and as individuals on their concerts and everything in between.

“Seoul-based stylist Youngjin Kim has been obsessed with fashion since he was a child, saving up his pocket money to buy magazines. “It was so special to me,” he remembers. After majoring in photography at college but leaning into the looks just as heavily, somebody suggested he give styling a go and well, the rest is history. These days, he’s working with BTS, but can also be found dressing the likes of NCT 127, Super M and Daniel Kang for cover features, campaigns and album artwork.”

ID Magazine - VICE Interview (March 2022)

👤What was your entry point to styling?

“I worked as an assistant to [Korean actor] Jin Oh Jeon’s stylist for about five years and came to understand the overall system of the Korean fashion scene. Looking back, that time was so precious; time that brought me to this moment, I guess.”

The man himself, Stylist @kimvinchey on IG

Kim YoungJin styled BTS and Bang SiHyuk for their TIME Magazine 2022 photos.

Kim YoungJin has been head stylist for MVs such as 'My Universe', styling Jimin for 'Vibe', j-hope for 'On The Street' to name but a few MVs

👤Tell us about the type of work you do.

“Styling for albums and projects such as “My Universe” by BTS and Coldplay is receiving tremendous attention on a global scale. Whenever I style an idol group, I think of a designer creating a collection. I mix and match clothes from different Japanese brands such as Comme des Garçons and Yohji Yamamoto, and I express my own aesthetic with styling to fit each concept. I also style various editorials for fashion magazines. I consider myself a fashion stylist, and when I first took on the role of an idol stylist, I was proud of demonstrating what kind of visuals could be created if a fashion stylist takes on an idol.”

Kim Youngjin has worked with the members on the brand ambassadorship endeavours, such as styling for mag shoots like the Valentino photoshoot with SUGA

👤Of course, a stylist doesn’t just ‘style’. You’re often a bridge between celebrities and brands — a look you introduce to an idol could quickly become a trend.

“Exactly. In many cases, celebrities or models with good momentum are recommended to brands or magazines, and if the celebrity is an ambassador of a fashion house, they communicate more closely with the fashion brand.”

👤What do you think is the most important thing in styling?

“I try to combine the latest fashion trends with classic items. For instance, I like pairing Levi's denim and casual sneakers with a Saint Laurent blazer. As details are crucial for men's clothes, the overall outfit is often impacted by details such as perfect length and sleeves.”

In Chapter 2 of BTS' journey, Kim YounJin has been part of many of the members solo projects that were even released post enlistment for some, such as j-hope LV campaign and styling for Esquire Magazine

👤Do you have a favourite brand or designer?

“I’ve always loved Givenchy by Riccardo Tisci, which has had a huge impact on me as a stylist. I have such respect for a person who has accomplished what they’ve wanted to do for a long time — I think Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons are both great in that regard too.”

“I’m 32, so I was in elementary and middle school in the 1990s, which was when I started getting into fashion. Since I was really young, like 10 years old, I used to go downtown to buy clothes by myself. In elementary school, I wore baggy sweatshirts and jeans like this Balenciaga ensemble. I liked hip-hop and K-pop even back then and would dress up like this and dance at school festivals. Retro fashion is back in style, so it doesn’t at all look out of place or time to dress like this again.”

Mr Porter - The Journal Interview (Oct 2020)

💜

Special Mention:

**Though Taehyung has worked with Kim YoungJin with group projects the Head Stylist for Taehyung (V) during Chapter 2, in particular his Layover Era has been @HIJIBIN, Taehyung's personal stylist.

Info on Kim YoungJin:

https://www.mrporter.com/en-sg/journal/fashion/youngjin-kim-contemporary-fashion-classic-style-k-pop-1445414

[uloelu]

🖼️ Jordyn Padgett 🖼️

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Ethnicity: Irish and Black British (Simlish)

Traits: Snob, Sporty, Art Lover (custom traits)

Age: 24 (young adult)

Current world: San Myshuno

Likes: Writing, wellness, mixology, media production, fitness, skiing, dancing, painting, photography, red, black, white, yellow, brown, classical music, new age music, hip hop, preppy and polished fashion, discussing interests, deep thoughts, stories, idealist Sims,

Dislikes: Handiness, gardening, cross-stitch, cottage-core and pop music, nature enthusiasts, basics and country fashion, gossip, small talk

Potential Profile

Jordyn Padgett (she/her) spent 18 long Sim years in her sleepy farming hometown of Henford-on-Bagley. As soon as she was able, she fled to the bustling city of San Myshuno, rooming with 3 other Sims in the Fashion District. One of those Sims was a woman by the name of Penelope Puri (Penny Pizzazz by default), a Simfluencer who skyrocketed to stardom through her videos reviewing celeb style fails and budding fashion trends. Penelope taught Jordyn the tricks of her trade, and now Jordyn has a following of her own--though she only makes content related to movies, TV, and the art world. Her ultimate goal is to become a world-renowned art critic, attending shows/ galleries around the world and leaving her mark on the industry. She knows she'll have to compete with the juggernaut that is Diego Lobo, but she greatly admires him and hopes they can collaborate one day.

She likes to go out and have fun, but Jordyn isn't a huge party animal. She's just as likely to prefer a night in with Netflix to a night out at a bustling bar. She's got a tight-knit group of friends with eclectic interests, and she prefers it that way. Jordyn has been on her fair share of dates with guys, but it's only recently that she realized her lack of attraction to them. Though she's not out to anyone, she's excited to explore her newfound identity as a lesbian.

Jordyn cares greatly about her health and personal style. She's seen enough denim and overalls to last her a lifetime--it's high quality clothing only from here on out. When she's not working or hanging out with her friends, you can find her shopping online, at a yoga studio, or a gym. Jordyn wishes she could eat healthier, but her notorious sweet tooth prevents her from cutting sugar out of her life altogether. She doesn't do dieting, either--she believes it can lead to unhealthy relationships with food.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this off-the-cuff profile! I'm thinking of creating roommates for her. Let me know if you'd like me to post them as well!

(Note: I don't currently own the Cottage Living EP [that or Cats and Dogs, Horse Ranch, and For Rent]. I'm trying to see if I can find a coupon/cheaper way to purchase it, but if not, I'll have to wait until the next sale. I'm not paying EA 40 whole United States Dollars for just one pack lmao. So if I make Jordyn available for upload before then, just be aware that she'll be missing those official aspects of her backstory. Sorry about that!)