“Laf? What are you wearing?” you ask, staring at him with wide eyes as he walks through the door.
He told you a few days earlier that he planned to come as a firefighter for your Halloween party, but you didn’t quite expect this.
Instead of getting the firefighter costume you thought he would, he showed up in a ‘sexy’ costume, complete with a short skirt, a top that is too small to button up over his chest, red suspenders and tall black stiletto boots.
“Well, they were out of men’s costumes so…” he says, gesturing down to his outfit.
“So you didn’t pick a different costume?” you ask and he winks at you.
“Y/N, I look damn good in this outfit and the look on your face when you opened the door was worth getting this one to wear,” he says, looking very happy with himself. “Also the man’s face at the grocery store when I stopped to buy you chocolates on the way here was definitely worth the costume.”
You can’t help but laugh as he hands you the box of chocolates and leans in to kiss your cheek.
Muder dad, I have a not so little brother who likes murder strut (and run after small jet-powered children) in 6" heels, but he will not teach me his secrets. 😢 I am a sad bean, because I fall flat on my face if I try anything that's over 3" that isn't a wedge. How did you learn not to face plant?
practice and nazi science, my friend. i don’t recommend the nazi science route though. bad call.
when you walk in heels, it’s tempting to put your whole foot down at once like you do with flats–or like you would with wedges. there’s a bit of a gentle roll to it, and if you have a single continuous sole, that’s okay. but actually with heels you want to hit heel first, then toe–you should hear that two-stage click sound as the front and back of your foot impact separately. also, you want to keep your weight really poised; your spine straight but not stiff, and your weight more on your toe than your heel; your heel is going to be wobblier. think of something pulling upwards from the top of your head and between your shoulderblades. if you can, do heeled boots–weakness in the ankle is what gets people a lot of the time, and even short boots will be more stable.
if you want that hip sway, walk on a line like you’re on a balance beam. lions do this–they place their paws all along the same axis. stepping into the same centerline will push your hips side to side as you walk. it is indeed very murder-strut-y.
when you run in heels, you run on tiptoe–your actual heel pretty much never contacts the ground. same with walking on grass–it’s exhausting, but you literally balance on just the balls of your feet so your stiletto doesn’t puncture the ground. when you kick in heels, you kick stiletto first–otherwise whats even the point of wearing knife shoes.
beauty is pain. and pain is heels.
source: drunken shenanigans. so many drunken shenanigans. tony got science involved, and pepper provided expertise. steve is weirdly good at the can-can in heels, just for the record.
you can’t know this many badass ladies who fight in heels and not have drunken conversations on how exactly they pull it off. they are a source of wonder and mystery, and the drunkvengers are determined to someday discover the secrets of heelfighting.
Runner up. Second best. How do I know if I’m an upgrade or settlement? Everything I do, she did too, everything I say, she said her way. When you tell me you love me, do you mean like you loved her? Should that question even be past tense, or future?
That’s the thing about someone’s first love, it’s the baseline, the mark after which every love comes. How am I to know if you see her in me? Am I what you want, or is she what you need? I am trying so hard to fill in her shoes, to strut her stilettos, and shuffle her boots. Trying to curl my toes just so, in a way that tells you, “my heart’s yours, you know”.
But I worry that my feet are too big or too small. And they stretch out the hole or don’t fill it at all. I worry I can’t erase the space in your brain, the space that’s engraved with her heart and her face. And I worry and worry and love you to death, because coming in second is so hard to get. There is so much potential and so much to lose, because all I want to is to fill in her shoes.
Blue Diamond headcanon: She has a massive shoe collection ranging from flats and flip flops to stilettos and tigh high boots, but no one knows because she’s wearing a dress so sometimes she’s randomly taller than Yellow who is just like “???…!!!!??”
Summary: An angel/demon AU featuring demon!Bucky and angel!Reader based on this request:
Pairings: Bucky x reader
Warnings: Religious imagery, probably some blasphemy, language, unprotected (graphic) sex
Word Count: 2,915
A/N: Ask and ye shall receive. I kinda got carried away with this one. I do hope it’s okay? (.gif has nothing to do with the story. I just like staring at it)
What happens when an angel knocks up a demon? You get a devilishly handsome half-breed with angelic charm and passion like hellfire running through his veins—you get me. Maybe I’m not as impressive as Lucifer, I didn’t fall from grace, I didn’t cut off my wings to spite my father—I never had wings—but I am more impressive than other demons. I’m stronger, smarter…just overall, I’m better. My unique position comes with perks from Luci, but jeers from full-blood demons. They say I’m not pure, that I have a disgusting heavenly glow about me. They say I don’t belong in Hell.
today’s look: opalescent silk negligee over thigh high black patent leather stiletto boots, braless, ‘20s silver screen lipstick tucked inside the hollow spine of a notebook filled with self-curated poetry and daydreams in one hand, embroidered scarf fluttering over the shoulders