no underwire bras

7

Dangerous Woman Collection

Natori Foundations Women’s Feathers Lace Underwire Bra with Chantelle Opera Lace Waist-Cincher Garter Belt and Saint Laurent Lace Choker and the Atsuko Kudo Candy Cup Bodysuit with Latex Gloves and Dangerous woman Lace Gloves

  • Personnal Mask But thre is a similar here by @candycanesugary
  • HQ Textures
  • Custom Thumbs
  • 3 Packages
  • 1 Color by Item
  • .zip File
  • Recolors: Allowed (Don’t Include The Mesh !!)
  • Tag Me If You Use IT
  • Don’t Re-UPLOAD

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somanyfandomssolittletime  asked:

SARAH I DON'T EVEN WATCH TIMELESS Y U MAKE ME SHIP LYATT.

JO. BECAUSE. BECAUSE HOW CAN YOU LOOK AT THIS

AND NOT?????

PLEASE DO THIS TO YOURSELF. DO IT. YOU DESERVE THIS.

A BREAKDOWN:

WYATT

  • SAYS MA’AM A LOT. 
  • CAN PICK LOCKS WITH PAPER CLIPS. 
  • CAN PICK LOCKS WITH UNDERWIRE BRAS. 
  • HAS READ EVERY JAMES BOND NOVEL. 
  • DOES NOT LIKE BUTTON FLY JEANS. 
  • BUCKLES SEATBELTS REAL WELL. 
  • MIGHT BELIEVE IN THE FORCE. 
  • LIKES BOSSY KNOW-IT-ALLS.

LUCY 

  • ENCYCLOPEDIA BROWN. 
  • CANNOT MOUNT A HORSE. 
  • CANNOT CLIMB THROUGH WINDOWS. 
  • FIERCE MEGABABE TO ALL HISTORICAL MEN. 
  • NEEDS YOU TO IGNORE THE NO MODERN GUNS IN THE PAST RULE. 
  • DECIDES HER OWN FATE THANKS. 
  • WILL HELP YOU STEAL A TIME MACHINE. 
  • LIKES RECKLESS HOTHEADS.

YOU ARE WELCOME.

still breathing

A lil 4x03 bellarke speculation fic for your enjoyment

Bellamy can’t stand to watch Clarke cry.

Under other circumstances, he would consider himself strong. He threw away his chance at a normal life the moment he held baby Octavia in his arms, he’s gone to the ends of the Earth and back for her and the other delinquents time and time again. He’s watched loved ones die over and over and still pushed on—

But he can’t stand to watch Clarke cry.

As she sits in front of him, sobbing, he can’t help but to reach out to her, just a hand on her shoulder, a silent comfort, a gesture of solidarity. He lets it rest there for a second, giving her a light squeeze, and he’s about to pull away when she rests her hand over his, anchoring him.

Then she turns her head, resting her cheek over the hand that has a death grip on his. He can feel the wetness of her cheeks, and he is so, so weak.

Bellamy kneels in front of her, sliding the hand on her shoulder up her neck to delicately cup her jaw, his thumb swiping away a stray tear.

“Clarke,” he says, voice low. “We’ll figure this out. We always do.”

Another tear slips down her cheek, and he gently wipes it away. He brings his other hand to rest above her knee, thumb tracing patterns back and forth over the fabric there.

She reaches out and grips his shoulders, still catching her breath from crying, and its natural, the way his hand travels from her knee to rest on her hip, his thumb continuing the comforting circles over her hipbone.

Having her this close—it’s terrifyingly intimate. It’s more intimate than anything they’ve done before, but somehow, it still feels right. His heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest, but he’s breathing easier than he has in months.

He shivers when her hands on his shoulders snake around his neck, fingers curling into the ends of his hair. With a sigh, her head falls forward, forehead resting lightly on his, noses barely brushing.

They stay like that for a moment, just breathing the same air, and he can feel Clarke start to relax before him. It would be so easy, he thinks, to close the gap between them—only a few inches—and just kiss her.

He wants to map her body with his lips. He could make her pain go away, even for just a few minutes—he could make her feel good, if that’s what she wanted.

It startles him, when the thought crosses his mind, that it’s not what he wants.

Of course, he’d do anything he could to take her pain away.

But he wants more than that.

He knows, that as much as he’d like to kiss her at this moment, the timing is wrong. The way things are right now, with both of their still healing hearts, the ticking time bomb that is a nuclear apocalypse hanging over their heads—he could never have more.

It’s why he’s so caught off guard when Clarke closes the distance between them and presses her lips to his.

At first, she’s tentative, her kiss gentle and unsure. She presses another slow kiss to his cheek, his temple, his forehead, and then she seals her lips over his once more.

He’s ready this time, and against his better judgement, he kisses her back.

The second kiss is more demanding. She swipes her tongue across the seam of his lips, demanding entrance, and he gives it to her. She groans into his mouth, and that’s when he knows he’s fucked.

The hand resting on her hip slips under her shirt, smoothing over the soft skin of her stomach and sliding up her spine. His other hand curls around her neck, tangles in her hair, holding her as close as he possibly can.

One of her hands remains anchored in his hair while the other fists into the collar of his t-shirt.

Her mouth moves desperately against his, and she presses against him, silently pleading for more.

He lets his hand roam from her spine back to her stomach, and when he traces his fingers over the skin beneath the underwire of her bra, he feels her whole body shudder.

It takes all his willpower to wrench himself away from her mouth. He tries catch his breath, to get himself under control, to tell her that they can’t, but Clarke takes the opportunity he’s presented her and attaches her lips to his neck, trailing hot, wet kisses across his jaw and collarbone.

“Clarke,” he tries, but it comes out more like a sigh when he feels the light scrape of her teeth against his skin.

She finds his lips again, but he feels wetness on her cheeks. He pulls away.

“Clarke,” he says, more firm this time, and she hastily tries to wipe the tears from her face.

She brings her forehead back to his and grips his biceps. “Bellamy, please.”

He rubs his hands up and down her arms. “We can’t, Clarke. Not like this.” She looks at him then, her bright blue eyes boring into his. “Not when we only have months to live.”

He’s afraid, after he’s said it, that Clarke wouldn’t even want this if they weren’t about to die.

“What if we did?” she asks, and her voice is strong, sure. “What if we did have time?”

He searches her eyes for any evidence of hesitation or uncertainty, but he finds none. Instead, her eyes are clear.

It takes him a long time to find the words. “If you still want this after we both survive the end of the world,” he starts, and even he is surprised at the confidence in his words, “then I’ll be here.”

It feels like a promise, somehow, and she squeezes his arm to tell him that she feels it, too.

She looks at him then, eyes a little watery but otherwise composed. “You still have hope?” she asks.

He almost wants to laugh. The only reason he’s had hope since he landed on this radioactive wasteland of a planet is sitting right in front of him.

“Are we still breathing?”

Mark’s Kiss - Pt. 2 of Mark’s “Types of Kisses” Series

Originally posted by j-miki

member: mark
rating: nc-17
genre: smut
word count: 2987

A/N: And here’s part 2 that someone requested!! Thank you for your support, everyone <3 You can read Part One here.

I also have a treat inside for you! Be sure to put your name in the box and hit submit for a more immersive read. (It only works if you’re on my page, and using a browser with javescript enabled.)

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Congratulations

Bellamy X Reader

Request? Yes:

Can you write a smut where Bellamy finds out y/n has a daddy kink and she gets embarrassed but it turns him on?


It’s loud. Everyone is shouting and laughing and having a great time. The entire camp stands around a huge bonfire, all holding cups of moonshine. Today was essential for your survival. You found yet another bunker with more guns and supplies and food.

Clarke stands closer to the fire and shouts, telling everyone to quiet down. You turn your attention to her, a soft smile plastered on her lips. “We really need to thank Bellamy and Jasper,” she says, looking around the group

The two boys stand together across the circle with Monty and Finn. Jasper grins while Bellamy assumes that humble smile you know so well. “Without them, we never would have found the bunker.”

Everyone chants praises and raises their cups. You smile and do the same, taking another painful gulp of alcohol. Then you set your cup down and walk along the outside of the circle, creeping up behind Bellamy. You’re as quiet as possible, standing right behind him and clapping a hand over his eyes and another over his mouth. “Don’t say anything,” you mumble quietly as you pull him backwards.

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Optimizing Clothes For Lifting

This is one thing I haven’t seen so I’m doing it. I am not a roleplay blog and all of these have been personally tested by me!

1. Oversized Underwire Bra: Slip small things into it. Works best with an underwire because the band will hug your torso no matter the cup size, which prevents your items from falling out.

2. Boots: Only really works in winter/fall for obvious reasons. Slip things like sticks of eyeliner, lipstick, or pencils (hah I love lifting art supplies) in there. Pretend there’s a rock in it or something and bend down with the item concealed in your hand.

3. Baggy Sleeves: Preferably elastic-cuffed, or you can slip a hair tie over the sleeve to keep things from falling out. Pick up the item you want, hold it as if inspecting it, then casually slip it into the sleeve.

4. Cargo Pants: If you didn’t know, these are the pants with pockets all up and down the sides. If they have buttons, have all the buttons undone before you enter the store. Pick the item up, bend down as if to tie your shoe or adjust your pant cuffs, and slip it in on the way up. This method also blocks your movement from any cameras.

5. Snug Underpants: So you can hide flattish items there without them falling out.

6. Snack Bag: I don’t think this is a very well-known method but it’s super effective and if you get caught, SAs won’t think to look in it. Carry a bag of chips/Cheetos/Smartfoods/whatever, preferably empty or half-eaten. In a blindspot, shove the merchandise inside. (Note: some stores may not allow food inside, but most do)

7. Scarf: If it’s warm out, you can opt for a lightweight fashion scarf. Pick up the merchandise you want. Start by fiddling with the scarf a bit, acting like you want to pull it off. Remove the scarf and quickly wrap the merchandise in it. Ball the scarf up and place it on your bag.

That’s all I have right now. If anyone has more add them! Happy lifting :)

Titillate (M) | Jonghyun

// halloween gets rather crazy at night…and not because of zombies

Jonghyun has a thing for uniforms.

More specifically, Jonghyun has a thing for you in a uniform.

You found out this amusing fact on a cool autumn’s night when you returned home from a Halloween party. Jonghyun had been watching a horror movie on the TV from the kitchen, the remains of his midnight snack scattered on the dining table. The moment he laid his eyes on you, you felt the lust bursting forth and attacking you from all corners. The white blouse you had on was buttoned up to a point just fairly above your cleavage, and its ends were tucked into the high-waisted, plaid navy skirt that barely covered the milky thighs that Jonghyun loved to squeeze every time you were together.

You caught sight of his Adam’s apple moving up and down as his eyes scanned you over. Pretending not to care, you removed your bag from your shoulders to let it hang on the stand. You swept your long, wavy hair to one side and your heartbeat rose with each second as Jonghyun’s eyes never left your body.

His knuckles turned white as his grip on the remote control tightened, his body reacting to your movement in ways he was too familiar with. You walked slowly up to his side and leaned over his lap to grab the remote, being highly aware of the warm air that he was breathing down your neck. The television was now turned off; the menacing orchestral music, and the all too piercing screams of the female protagonist came to an immediate halt. All that illuminated the apartment now were the fairy lights hanging down from the walls.

In the tension-filled silence of the space, you pushed Jonghyun’s chair backwards, giving yourself some space to straddle his thighs. Your toes were barely touching the floor, and when you inched yourself forward, the increasing bulge that threatened to burst out of this sweatpants came into contact with your clothed core, and you had to stiffen a moan.

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She sounded stupid. Absolutely stupid.

Here she was, laying on the hood of his precious car, in the middle of nowhere, asking him to make love to her. At least in the middle of the desert no one could see her die from embarrassment. Her eyes slid closed and she turned her head away from him, pretending to be more interested in one of the scrawny bushes that had made its home in the rocks. She tried to think about how long that bush had been there, how the rainfall had affected its growth this year, or how the drought had affected it last year. She tried to think about how it reproduced and then-

“I could. If you wanted me to.” He shifted next to her, his boots knocking up against the front bumper. His words sounded tight and stretched, as if he was trying to keep something locked in his chest and far away from her. “I mean… you’re just looking for something fun right?”

[more under the cut]

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wideblueskies  asked:

I frequently think back on the amazing outfit that Anthea brought George when she was in hospital. The bra without underwire but with elastic lace, and the coat with the beautiful blue lining. I love that Anthea anyway, and her relationship with Mycroft is really wonderful, but that scene in particular has stuck with me since I first read it years and years ago.

Anthea was BLISS to write in Least of All Possible Mistakes. She was so inscrutable and weird, and I imagined her as someone like the Holmes boys, exceptional and as a result exceptionally lonely. It’s hard to be a sharp tongued genius male, but much worse for women as in all things, and I think for Anthea, in George she made a friend who not only doesn’t mind her strange personality, but never makes a show of not minding her strange personality. George doesn’t like it or dislike it, she just takes Anthea as she is, in all of her voluminous Anthea-ness, and for someone like Anthea, I think it must feel like the dizzy exhalation after so long holding your breath.

COLORS :: Bellamy Blake Smut

Pink. 

The cake was pink. 

He hated pink. 

You winced as the chef sat Bellamy’s birthday cake down on the party table, turning to you with a satisfied grin. His face faltered when he saw the yellow banners and red table settings. 

“This must be one weird party…” he muttered, walking away before you could beg him to try to fix Bellamy’s cake. 

It was humiliating enough to have to explain the cake, let alone the strange color pattern Octavia had picked out. Bellamy would be here in two minutes. Your mutual friends ran about, getting in their positions to surprise your boyfriend. Octavia climbed like a monkey to the top of the lounge area, hanging from a light as she waved at you. 

After the Ark managed to hurdle itself towards the Earth and survive, they built a lounge area that parties could be held in. Kane assured you that Bellamy would love it, so here you were… standing by the light switch as you awkwardly waited for the birthday boy. You could hear his boots echoing down the hallway, following the instruction to meet you in the lounge. You quickly turned off the lights and pressed yourself against flat against the wall, watching as his tall frame emerged into the darkness. 

“(Y/N)?” he called out, peering out as you flicked on the light and jumped from your spot at him. 

“Surprise!” everyone echoed. 

His reaction was instantaneous. Bellamy wasn’t one for surprises, but his face lit up with a wide smile and you were relieved…. Until he ran at you, scooping you up in his arms as if you weighed no more than a small puppy, and pushed his lips happily against yours. Bellamy lightly bit your lower lip as you pulled away. 

You giggled, “This isn’t the only surprise you’ll be getting tonight…” you whispered, giving him a soft kiss to the cheek as he sat you down. You went to walk away, before turning back and wincing, “…And it was your sister who picked out the cake…” 

The party went slower than expected. Maybe it was because the aching you felt in your stomach, the need to give Bellamy his present growing with every second. You watched him, in all his glory, as he began to shake hands goodbye to his guests. A mountain of presents were piled up in the corner, and once everyone had departed you walked towards Bellamy with a purple wrapped box. Bellamy looked almost disappointed, obviously wishing his gift was something that involved a bit more touching. However, he smiled giddily and took the box from you, laughing, “You know, this is probably the only think purple at this entire party.” He ruffled the big black bow you placed at the top, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you close to him, giving you a kiss on the temple. You sighed in content, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head on his shoulder. 

 “Well, it is your favorite color… which leads me to my next surprise,” you drawled, moving to the front of him. Bellamy thought it was cute, how you had to go on your tippy-toes to reach his ear, but shivered when you gently ran your lips along his earlobe, whispering seductively, “Open your present, and then come find me in our room…” you trailed, purposely swaying your hips as you left the lounge and headed for your shared room. 

In a matter of minutes, after the shock wore off, Bellamy was racing down the hallway to get his hands on you. He passed Lincoln who gave him a proud bro-five, laughing as Bellamy dangled your present for all to see. When he reached your door, he wasted no time is busting it open and rushing inside, his steps faltering as he saw what stood in front of him. 

“Like what you see?” you hummed, walking towards Bellamy with your lips tugged into a sly smile. 

Bellamy’s eyes hungrily scanned your half naked body, holding back at groan at the sight of your purple panties and bra. His favorite color. Bellamy’s hand cupped the side of your ribs, rubbing his thumb along the underwire of your purple bra. He took his lip between his teeth as he held up your present… purple handcuffs. “Thanks for my gift…” he smiled. 

You shrugged, rubbing your hands across his chest lightly as you worked off his guard jacket, slipping the handcuffs through the sleeve before returning your hands to their previous position. “Well, I know you’ve always wanted to try. So I figured I could play a little bit of bad girl and maybe find myself in some trouble…” you swooned, dropping to your knees in front of Bellamy. 

He let out a sigh of relief as you pulled both his pants and his underwear down in one fluid motion, allowing his hard-on to spring up against his clothed torso. Almost as if sensing your next request, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. You smiled and reached forward, cupping his long, thick shaft and giving him a soft kiss to the tip. You sighed at just how hard Bellamy really was, it seemed almost painful, “Bell, how long have you been like this?” you questioned softly, genuinely concerned with the strain this must’ve had on him. 

Bellamy swallowed his groans and answered gruffly, “Since I saw you at the party…” You can’t help the joy it brings to know just how much you affect Bellamy. Surprising him, you give a long lick up his shaft before taking in half of him, pumping the large portion you couldn’t fit. 

“Oh, fuck, baby…” Bellamy groaned, reaching a soft hand into your silky hair. “Just like that, (Y/N)…” You hummed lightly, sending vibrations through Bellamy he didn’t know could feel so amazing. 

Losing control, his hips began to thrust towards you, pushing his dick even further into your mouth. You held back your gagging as he hit the back of your throat, panting and moaning your name as you felt the warm, salty liquid spill into your throat. You swallowed it all, looking up as Bellamy as he grabbed you beneath your arms and hoisted you up onto his hips. You gasped as his lips attacked your neck, shrieking a laugh as Bellamy launched you back onto the mattress, your giggles turning into moans as his lips found the soft spot on your neck, sucking harshly. You knew what he was doing: giving you a (very noticeable) hickey. He liked to show people that you were his, and his only. 

His lips trailed down the small amount of breast popping from your shirt, marking you there too. Bellamy’s hand reached down, pulling at the hem of your shirt as he slid it up and over your head. You reached behind you and unclipped your purple bra, slowly sliding the straps down your arms until Bellamy had enough and ripped the fabric away from you. His lips had no time to give your breasts attention, he was on a mission, kissing a straight line from your collarbone to your naval, stopping there as he slowly pulled down your pants and panties at once. 

He moved himself to the floor, leaning on his knees as you watched him take your tiny feet in his hands and pull you closer to him. Standing up, you were confused at what he was doing, before he grabbed your wrist and suddenly cuffed you the bed stand. He ran back to the floor and spread your legs apart, opening you fully to him. You shudder as he kissed up the insides of your thighs, blowing cool air on your clit when he reached it. 

“Say it, baby,” he demanded, nibbling on the skin around your most sensitive area. 

“Bell…” you sighed out, trying to find the strength. “Bellamy, please just… just…” you can’t find the words, but Bellamy finds your plea acceptable and attaches his lips harshly to your clit. “Holy— Bellamy, oh, my god!” you cry out, your stray hand searching for something to hold while the other pulls against the cuffs. Bellamy pushes one, long finger into you walls while his other hand finds yours and rests against your stomach. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), you’re so tight around my fingers, baby,” he cooed as he pushed another in. 

You gasped and arched your back off the bed, a string of curses and Bellamy’s name leaving your lips, “Oh, my… Bellamy… Bell, baby, I’m so close. I’m… I’m so close…” As if the words fired a trigger, you cried out as white hot pleasure pushed through your veins, your juices soaking Bellamy’s fingers. “Bellamy!” you call out, panting as he licks you clean, returning his position above you with a smile. 

“You always taste so good, (Y/N),” he bit his lip, leaning down and kissing you softly. You clawed as his chest with your free nails as began to rub his tip along your wet folds. You breathed out heavy, lips brushing against his as you arched forward, pushing your hips towards his as motivation. 

“Bellamy…” you whined. “Bell, please!” 

“Please, what, baby?” he reached forward and bit your lip gently, pulling it out towards him before releasing it. His dick still rubbing against you, painfully slow.  

“Please fuck me!” you pleaded, looking deep into his chocolate brown eyes as he smiled. 

“Because you asked nicely…” he nuzzled noses with you, slowly entering you with a sigh of relief. You tensed under the sharp pain pushing through your lower abdomen. It had been so long since you and Bellamy last did this. In the meantime, either you got tighter or he got bigger… maybe both. 

“Ow,” you winced when he was fully in, biting your lip to hold back the whimpers of pain. Bellamy ran his hand soothingly along your bare side, the other pressed against your bed, holding him up. You reached with your free hand and wrapped it around Bellamy’s wrist, pressing your forehead into the crook of his neck as you adjusted. “I’m sorry, it’s… it’s been awhile,” you mumbled, embarrassed of Bellamy’s waiting. 

Bellamy let out a light laugh, “It’s okay, baby, I know. I know, and it’ll be different this time, I swear. I’m gonna take better care of my girl,” he kissed the top of your head. You smiled at his words, shifting your hips, a little shocked with the pulses of pleasure from your movements. 

You inhaled, “Hey, Bell?” “(Y/N)?” You leaned back and looked into his eyes, “Move.” 

Bellamy kissed you long and gently as he began moving in and out at a slow pace. The pain had subsided into pleasure, and you just wanted more. More sex, more kisses, more Bellamy. 

“Faster, Bell,” you breathed, gasping when Bellamy followed your commands, ramming into you hard and fast. Your hand shot up to his back, leaving scratches in its wake. With each thrust, he got deeper, faster, harder. It was amazing. Bellamy was always amazing in bed, and he was all yours. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), you’re so beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful, and smart, and kind. You’re so pure, even as I’m fucking you beneath me,” Bellamy worked out, breathing heavy in between. “God, I love you. I’m so sorry, baby, I’m gonna take better care of you. I promise, (Y/N), I love you so much…” 

“I… I love…” you struggled to make out as, again, pleasure coursing through your body. Your entire legs shook under the pleasure Bellamy was giving you. With a few more thrusts, you felt his hot liquid fill you up as he laid there, still for a moment. You caught your breath and smiled, “I love you, too.” 

Bellamy laughed and kissed your nose once more before unlocking your cuffs and kissing your now sore wrist. He pulled out gently and rolled beside you. He covered you from chest down with the sheets, pulling you close to his side as he peppered kisses along your forehead. 

“I have a new appreciation for my favorite color,” he nodded into your head. 

“Shut up…” You laughed and lightly punched his abdomen, “Happy Birthday, loser.”

Originally posted by bebelusa003