padded push up bras

silver-feather  asked:

Since you posted the Samus photo I have a question that I've kind of been too awkward to ask until now :P With costumes that are so form-fitting like Samus, Mara Jade, and Asuka, what do you wear underneath so that lines don't show through?

This is a GREAT question because I wish someone would have told me what to wear under my bodysuits years ago. 

Shapewear is a wonderful tool and I recommend it to people of all sizes. Not only does this prevent panty lines from showing, it smooths out all your shapes and keeps potential food babies in check. The “wear your own bra” style is extra great and versatile. Body suits tend to compress your chest, so lots of cosplayers (including me) choose to wear padded push-up bras with them to balance the figure and create a more flattering silhouette.

The shapewear acts like a lining that can be washed frequently, so that the whole bodysuit doesn’t have to be. Unless you’re sweating A LOT or something, the bodysuit stays relatively clean.

Here’s the brand/style I actually use:

On a related note, here is a very important bodysuit undergarment PSA that can’t be shared enough: If you have a penis and you’re wearing a bodysuit, PLEASE wear a dance belt for the love of god. No one wants to see the sad outline of your flaccid wiener. A dance belt is designed to keep your dick under wraps. Google it if you need to.

Good luck with your bodysuit adventures.

L works her cleavage as hard as she can. Padded, push-up, not even trying to hide the bra to make the maximum amount of tit come into play… and she hasn’t a chance in hell.

anonymous asked:

Aobajousai second and third years +Kuroo when their girlfriend tearfully admits she’s afraid to take her bra off around them because she wears a padded bra and so her boobs aren’t as big as they think it is? D:

(This is p cute! Because it was requested gender-specific, I used female pronouns here.)

Oikawa: In an attempt to lighten the mood, Oikawa would give an overblown reaction of shock. It would not go over very well. He would explain to her that all he wanted was to see her smile, and she should because he didn’t care about her breast size. He could understand why she would be sensitive about it, but to him it just wasn’t a big deal. He’d give her a playful kiss on the nose, and an equally lighthearted squeeze of the boob, telling her she had nothing to be worried about.

Iwaizumi: This poor baby would have no idea how to react. Iwaizumi would be confused as to why his girlfriend was so upset, because he honestly though all bras were padded. After receiving a rather awkward explanation of what a push-up bra was, he’d ask again why she thought it was a big deal. With a straight face, Iwaizumi would let her know he still loved and was attracted to her, and that she should learn to appreciate her body just as much as he did. (”Besides,” he might add, “I’m a thigh man.”)

Matsukawa: “It’s cool, __, mine are small too,“ Matsukawa would joke dryly, trying to lighten the tense mood between them. When his girlfriend’s welling tears started to spill out, he realized he’d screwed up big time. He would pull her into his chest, ruffling her hair as he hugged her. He really didn’t care about her size; in all honesty, he sort of preferred smaller breasts. Matsukawa held her for a little while, until he felt her stop crying, then tried again, “The best gifts come in small packages, right? I like you the way you are.”

Hanamaki: It had always worried Hanamaki’s girlfriend that he could be so hard to read, but never more than in this situation. He would regard her silently for a minute or two, a quizzical look on his face, his eyes all over her body. “So you wear push-up bras, huh?” he’d finally say, more of a statement than a question. “And your boobs aren’t as big as they look.” She would nod shyly at his recap. Hanamaki would finally crack a smirk, joking, “Wanna show me what they really look like?” and earning himself a flick in the forehead. 

Yahaba: As his girlfriend makes her confession, Yahaba can’t help but let out a tiny giggle before leaning in to press a kiss to her nose. Honestly, he was a little happy that she decided to tell him this; it showed that she trusts him, and that she wants to be truthful in their relationship. Sure, he likes big breasts as much as any man, but he likes her much more than any individual feature she might have. He strokes her hair and lets her know she’s still beautiful to him until she calms, then jokingly suggests they go bra shopping, this time finding something with a little less padding. 

Kyoutani: With a grumble, Kyoutani would ask his s/o why she was even telling him this. Why did her bra matter at all to him? He wasn’t the one wearing it. When he realized she was tearing up, it would fluster him a little. Dealing with crying people was far from his strong suit. He would stiffly pat her head, unable to find the right words to tell her that he still found her good-looking. As she looked up at him for a more readable reaction, he turned his head to hide a light blush, and grunted, “’s still fine with me.”

Watari: Watari doesn’t necessarily understand why she’s been so embarrassed all this time, but he does his best to be gracious about the situation. As she’s speaking, tears welling in her eyes, he gives her a gentle, understanding smile and nod. When she finishes, he puts a hand on her shoulder, and even though he’s blushing over it himself, lets her know that he’s not concerned about her breast size. He likes her for who she is, and if she’s a little smaller up top than he originally believed, it won’t bother him at all. As he tells her so, he pulls her into a comforting hug, and plants a chaste kiss on top of her head. 

Kuroo: Kuroo has always operated under the philosophy that all boobs are good boobs. He’s never been picky about size, color, stretch marks, or anything else. His partner’s revelation wouldn’t particularly shock him, but he would be a little miffed that she thought he would be less attracted to her because her breasts weren’t quite as big with her bra off. He would kindly laugh it off, though, for her sake, letting her know with a coy smirk that if she wanted, he could show her exactly how great he thought her boobs were.



It’s been a long time since I’ve done any silly comic shorts about my life, and I’ve got a lot of stupid stories to tell…

I was an ignorant and innocent 20 something year old… and if you’re equally innocent, you can learn from my mistake. Push-up bras are padded bras to make your boobs look bigger, NOT for extra support during push-up exercises…

Opm character dirty little secrets...

(….that I found through my awesome assassin investigation skills).

Saitama: in high school some bullies shoved an explicit yaoi manga in his locker as a joke. He’s still got it.

Genos: has the ability to take photographs with the lenses in his eyes and store them to a small hard drive. Very useful when walking behind girls in skirts up stairs.

Mumen: literally nothing. A gum packet fell out his pocket and accidentally “littered” and he hasn’t forgiven himself. Dork.

King: he doesn’t mind people seeing his huge collection of hentai but what he doesn’t want them to know is they’re all full of pictures of the check out girl at the local market. Literally hundreds of photos. It’s scary.

Seaking: you know those hearts that look like nipples? Yeah. They’re stickers. He lost his nipples in an embarrassing fight with a jellyfish when he made a drunken bet about fucking one…

Puri Puri: his first kiss was actually with a girl called Susan. Yeah. I dunno either.

Boros: the only problem with being the last remaining member of your species (by your own fault) is that after years and years of deep space travel your second-in-commands tentacles start to look reeeeal appealing…

Handsome Mask: every time he gets a spot he eats an entire tub of ice cream and cries himself to sleep to PS I Love You. Also has creepily small feet.

Fubuki: wears a heavily padded push up bra to make her C’s look like DD’s.

Bang: has a camera hidden in the female changing rooms of his dojo. I disabled it. Even I can’t sit around and tolerate that.

Flashy Flash: is naturally a “dirty blonde” (read: ginger) but regularly goes for bleaching treatments and waxes. Hair stylists are sworn to secrecy under pain of death.

Dog man…thing: actually saw him pissing up a lamp post. That guy has real issues I swear.

Child Emperor: how old is this kid? Because he hacked the website of a major porn company and sent all the content to himself for free. I don’t even know anymore I regret this.

Metal Bat: he always refuses to tell people what inspired that ugly ass pompadour hair style of his. No wonder. It was inspired by a cringey 80s porno he saw on tv at 3am at the age of 9.

Tatsumaki: has a side job as a cam girl under the screen name NoImNotAChild

Pig God: just….no. I still have nightmares and ptsd from that.

Garou: wears that tight as fuck muscle shirt cause he was the fat kid in school and wants to show off his weight loss. Also gets through several cans of hair spray a day to look like an Addams family reject.

That’s everyone I’ve spied on so far…after all that I need a lie down. In some bleach.

Here’s all you need to know about men and women: Women are crazy, men are stupid.

And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid. It’s not the only reason, but it’s a big one.

And by the way, if you don’t think men are stupid, check the newspaper. Ninety-nine percent of all the truly horrifying shit going on in this world was initiated, established, perpetrated, enabled, or continued by men. And that includes the wave and the high five, two of history’s truly low points.

But as I say, besides knowing that men are stupid, it’s also important to remember that women are crazy. And if you don’t think women are crazy, ask a man. That’s the one thing men aren’t stupid about; they know for sure, way down deep in their hearts, that women are straight-out fuckin’ nuts.

But it doesn’t just happen; it isn’t an accident. Women have good reason to be nuts, the main one being that in the course of life, compared with men, they have far more to put up with; they bear greater burdens. Think of it this way: In the Big Cosmic Cafeteria, as human beings move down the chow line of life and reach that section where the shit is being spooned out, women are given several extra portions.

And please understand, my motives here are not selfish or personal. I’m not saying all this stuff to get in good with women, although an occasional blow job would be nice. But it’s not a requirement. It’s optional. BJO: Blow Job Optional. No, I just think it should be evident to any person who’s being honest and thinking clearly that women carry a lot more of life’s baggage than men.

To begin with, they’re smaller and weaker, so they get slapped, punched, raped, abused, and, in general, get the shit beaten out of them on a rather regular basis. By men, of course, who are stronger. If women were stronger, this wouldn’t be happening. Men would not raise a hand if they thought the balance was more equal; they would back down quickly. Then again, if women were stronger, they would probably be beating the shit out of men just for the fun of it. It’s only fair.

Another major problem for women: They have to look good all the time or at least they think they do. So they’ll be attractive to their male protectors. ‘Gotta look good tonight, Joey’s gonna beat the shit out of me. Maybe I can get a nice kick in the fuckin’ mouth. Gotta look my best.’

And looking one’s female best requires a lot of things. Start with cosmetics. Just think of all the products and procedures a woman is forced to deal with in the world of cosmetics: cleansers, toners, foundation, blush, face powder, lipstick, lip gloss, lip liner, eyeliner, eye shadow, eyebrow pencil, mascara, nail polish, nail polish remover, manicures, pedicures, fake fingernails, fake eyelashes, face cream, neck cream, eye cream, thigh cream, root cream, day cream, night cream, cold cream, wrinkle remover, makeup remover, hand lotions, body lotions, bath oils, bath beads, shower gels, bubble baths, scented baths, perfumes, colognes, toilet water, astringents, moisturizers, emulsions, exfoliants, peels, scrubs, depilatories, body wraps, facial masks, shampoos, conditioners, bleaches, dyes, rinses, tints, perms, straighteners, wigs, falls, rats, extensions, combs, barrettes, bobby pins, hairpins, hairnets, hair curlers, scrunchies, ribbons, bows, debacles, headbands, streaking, frosting, teasing, spraying, moussing, blow drying, cutting, layering, curling, eyelash curling, eyebrow plucking, armpit shaving, leg shaving, crotch shaving, crotchwaxing, leg waxing, eyebrow waxing…

And a purse! A big fuckin’ purse so she can carry all this shit around with her. Especially the makeup, which must be close at hand at all times. ‘Gotta have my makeup. In case I run into Joey and he wants to beat the shit outta me. I gotta look my best. Maybe he’ll punch me repeatedly in the kidneys and the stomach so it doesn’t mark up my face. He’s so thoughtful.’

And, my friend, I hope you’re aware that when we talk about women looking good, we’re also talking about clothing. Clothing is what generates all this shopping shit that occupies so much of a woman’s time. Because the truth is, women have to buy, own and wear an unbelievably bewildering number of garments: Slips, half-slips, camisoles, thongs, panties, pantyhose, stockings, half hose, knee-highs, anklets, socks, leg warmers, garter belts, girdles, corsets, training bras, padded bras, sports bras, nursing bras, push-up bras, strapless bras, Wonderbras, bustiers, teddies, petticoats, peignoirs, negligees, nightgowns, shorties, muumuus, body stockings, blouses, sweaters, jerseys, pullovers, halter tops, miniskirts, maxiskirts, slacks, suits, sunsuits, business suits, pants suits, culottes, capris, shorts, short shorts, hot pants, formal gowns, bridal gowns, evening gowns, street dresses, sundresses, cocktail dresses, housedresses, housecoats, winter coats, fall coats, spring coats, hats and scarves, brooches, pins, necklaces, pendants, medallions, lockets, bracelets, ankle bracelets, earrings, wedding rings, engagement rings, friendship rings, thumb rings, toe rings and (optional, of course) nipple, nose, and labia rings.

And let’s not even begin to talk about shoes. Oh, God! Sorry, girls! I take it back. But at least let’s keep it brief: tennis shoes, sandals, open-toes, slingbacks, mules, wedgies, flats, half-heels, and… high heels. High heels that damage a woman’s feet, ankles, and knees, but make her ass and legs look great, so how can you blame a guy for the occasional rape? ‘Hey, the bitch was askin’ for it, she was wearin’ high heels.’

Now, generally, all this obsession with appearance has one purpose. It’s supposed to lead to romance and it is devoutly wished by some a wedding. A wedding is another one of those good deals women get: The man ‘takes a wife,’ the woman is ‘given away,’ her family pays for the whole thing, and everyone stands around hoping she gets pregnant immediately.

Pregnant! Hey, another terrific treat for the gals! A chance to gain forty pounds, puke in the morning, walk like a duck, get sore tits, and develop a nice case of hemorrhoids. What a deal!

And such attractive clothing. Plus, she can’t get up off the couch without help. Well, it’s her own fault. This wouldn’t have happened if she had taken her birth control pill or used her diaphragm.

Notice: her pill, her diaphragm.

But think of how fulfilling it can be. After all, now she has a baby; a baby she gets to raise practically alone. And if she decides to be a stay-at-home mom, she gets to cook, clean, sew, scrub, scour, wax, wash, dry, iron, do the shopping, drive the van, and entertain the guests.

She’s a housewife! An unpaid, in-family domestic servant. Admittedly, that description is a bit more in line with the old model. The new model is so much better: She ‘gets a fuckin’ job so she can be bringin’ somethin’ in.’ But, somehow, she still winds up being an unpaid, in-family domestic servant after she gets home from the job.

You know, the job? Where she gets paid less than men for the same work, does not rise beyond a certain level in the company and gets harassed all day long by some oversexed moron with a lump in his pants.

Probably better just to stay home where she doesn’t have to be bothered with that pesky paycheck crap, and there’s none of that nonsense about Social Security, pension plans, and unemployment money in case of divorce. Just alimony and child support… if the ex-husband can be located. The ex who probably thought she was looking a little used up and dumped her for someone whose milk glands hadn’t sagged yet.

Can’t forget those milk glands, can we, girls? Tits! Two tits, sticking straight out of your chest; in some cases sticking straight out. Well, for a few years, anyway. Yes, girls, just by virtue of being female, you get to walk around all your life with two vulnerable milk glands hanging out in front of you like lanterns.

And if, somehow, you should get the idea that men don’t approve of the size and shape of those milk glands, you’ll find plenty of social pressure to have them artificially ‘enhanced.’ Such enhancement usually will be performed and supervised by men.

Here’s another physical treat for females: periods! Cramping, bloating, and bleeding five days a month. Fifteen percent of the time. And you can add the time spent with premenstrual syndrome. PMS. Men gave it that name. If women had named it, it would be called, ‘My several days of shrieking and crying and depression, just before my several days of bleeding, cramping, and bloating.’ Men don’t quite see it from that angle. Men experience PMS as a problem for them.

‘What’s the matter, Joey? You don’t look so good.’

'Ahhhh, my wife’s got the PMS.’

Here are some more special female advantages in case you haven’t had enough: pap smears, mammograms, hysterectomies, mastectomies, miscarriages, abortions, labor pains, childbirth pain, episiotomies, stretch marks, and breast-feeding. And postpartum depression. Can’t imagine why she wouldn’t feel good. And just to top it all off, menopause. Menopause! More strange behavior and exciting physical sensations.

And in exchange for all this, in exchange for all this abuse from nature, what is the woman’s payoff? Why, she’s allowed to get into the lifeboat first. At least theoretically. How often do you think that really happens? Oh, and let’s not forget, many men are quite willing to hold the door open for her. In fact, some men are quite impressed with their willingness to do this; they brag about it: ‘Yeah, I beat the shit out of her a lot, but when she runs from one room to the other, I always hold the door open.’

I’ll tell you what a bad deal women got: They’re in the majority on this planet, and they still wound up with the shitty end of the stick. That’s how big a hosing they got.

Oh, and one other inequity I neglected to mention; very unequal. But this one works in women’s favor: They live longer than men. And remember this happens in spite of all the shit they have to put up with. So who do you think is tougher? Men or women? Why don’t you guess. And don’t forget, women have the huge added burden of having to put up with men.

—  George Carlin, When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?