wearing corset

Hi my name is Yuri Ice Tiger Fairy Dark'ness Plisetsky and I have a short blonde bowlcut (that’s how I got my name, cause i look like a lesbian LOL) with purple streaks and red tips and insanely green eyes that look like a tigers and a lot of people tell me I look like Ellen (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a witch, and I go to the Russian figure skating rink where I’m in better than all those slow fuckers on ice. for example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and black leather booty shorts, purple fishnets and black combat boots with knives duct taped to the bottom. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside the rink. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them. Fuck you Victor.

Hi my name is Pizza Hut Guy and I have long real Pizza hair (that’s how I got my name) with greasy streaks and greasy tips that reaches my mid-back and warm pepperoni eyes like pepperoni and a lot of people tell me I act like a complete buffoon. I’m not related to the Carney brothers but I wish I was because they’re major fucking hotties. I’m a Pizza Hut customer service rep but my teeth are about as crooked as my sexuality. I have cheesy orange skin. I’m also an asshole, and harass random idiots on the Internet despite being a minor (It’s my main hobby). I’m a Pizza Hut customer service rep and I wear mostly my Pizza Hut uniform. I love Pizza Hut. Today I was wearing a Pizza Hut corset with matching lace around it and a black Pizza Hut miniskirt, Pizza Hut fishnets and black Pizza Hut boots. I was wearing marinara lipstick, cheesy foundation, black olive eyeliner and red pepper eye shadow. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I wasn’t very happy about because it was harder to deliver pizzas in. Some idiots said I wasn’t a real Pizza Hut customer service rep. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Belle is the feminist princess so much better than Cinderella who is a bad role model for girls!”

Oh. Oh really

So she was a bad role model when she:

  • Stood up to her abuser twice
  • Didn’t whine or moan about only getting until midnight at the ball
  • Used the derogatory name her abusers had given her to proudly announce herself to the prince because she wouldn’t let them win
  • Remained kind and courageous through the abuse she endured
  • Worried more about the man who delivered her the news about her father’s death than herself (”that must have been very difficult for you”)
  • Forgave her abuser, because she knew continuing to stay mad would only bring her down.
  • Felt sorry for how her stepsisters because of what they had become due to their mother
  • Had just had her mother’s dress destroyed and the chance of meeting her only friend taken away from her, but still cared for the beggar woman who asked for some milk
  • Didn’t try to hide who she was for the prince
  • Told a man of wealth off for hunting after a stag - “just because its what’s done doesn’t mean its what should be done!”
  • Cared for all her animals

A female character doesn’t just have to punch things and not wear a corset to be a good role model. I love Belle, but don’t dismiss Cinderella when she’s just as good as a role model as Belle!

(also feel free to add what I have missed!)

So this is a totally useless rant, but as a skinny girl, I’m getting extra, extra tired of fat-shaming.

I work for a corsetier at a Renaissance Faire. We sell corsets. Not flimsy bullshit costume corsets; like real, durable, waist-training corsets. Today a woman came in with her boyfriend, so I helped her pick out a corset and try it on. While her boyfriend—who was decidedly enthused about the whole corset thing—sat watching me lace her in, he told me, grinning, “Of all the good jobs at the Renaissance Faire, I think you have the best.”

I shrugged in agreement. “I touch butts and reach down cleavage all day; I mean…” Because we like to be a bit rakish at the Faire, and, y’know, it’s true. Tying people into corsets pretty much invariably requires getting handsy.

The couple laughed at that, and the boyfriend said, “That’s the job I would want!” But then he chuckled again and said, offhand, “Or maybe not; while we were looking at the racks, there were some pretty big sizes on there!”

Our sizes are all done in inches, and the biggest we make is a 46. And you’d better believe our large sizes sell. For a second I wasn’t sure what to say to the guy’s comment, but I answered him casually. “We get a lot of beautiful big ladies in here.” Because we do. “We make corsets for real women, not Barbie dolls,” I added. Wasn’t trying to be smart, just kind of tossed it out there because that’s the line we like to use when people ask about larger sizes, and because, again, we do.

The boyfriend went quiet at that; I didn’t think anything of it, I just kept on lacing. A moment later, he said, a little awkwardly (but sincerely enough), “Didn’t mean to be offensive.”

I quickly smiled and brushed it off, said he wasn’t, said I was just saying. (Don’t want to make the customers uncomfortable, you know?) And that was the end of it. His comment had rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn’t a big deal. Now, I wear a 20-inch corset. I’m a few cup sizes short of being one of the Barbie dolls. Like his girlfriend, I’m one of the “hot chicks”; he doesn’t have to worry about offending me by implying that I wouldn’t be fun to poke and pull at.

Honestly though, of all the people I fit sexy technically-undergarments to in a day, fat girls are maybe my favorite people to lace up. Because they are just so damn happy that we have stuff that fits them. They are so damn happy that the corsets we make in their sizes are all the same pretty, shiny colors and cool flower/dragon/skull/etc. prints that the smaller corsets are, not ugly beige and boring “granny” colors. They are so goddamn happy that at least one (of several on the grounds) corset shop carries things that they can wear, that they actually want to wear, and that they look fucking awesome in. This is only my second season working, and we’ve fit 60+ inch waists and double-K busts. The only people we’ve ever had to tell sorry, we don’t have anything that fits them, are twelve-year-old kids.

It’s half-wonderful, half-heartbreaking how excited those women get. Women who say with sad smiles, when we ask if they want to get fitted, “Oh, no, you don’t have anything that fits me,” and then are stunned when we’re 300% confident that yes we do, and we have options. Women who can’t stop smiling and looking at themselves in the mirror after we’ve got them laced in.

I had a lady last week whose waist I measured (cinching the tape tight, as per procedure) at 41 inches—honestly not all that big. So she picked out a 41-inch corset to try on. I could tell halfway through getting her laced that it was going to be a bit big for her, so I mentioned it and said she might do better to try a smaller size. She started crying on the spot. She was so overwhelmed; she couldn’t believe someone had just told her that a 41 was too big. She told me about how hard clothes shopping was for her, how her mother would tell her she needed an XXXL instead of an XXL, how she had recently lost weight but still couldn’t wear certain colors because they didn’t fit or she wasn’t confident enough.

She did end up getting her corset, and after I checked her out she asked if she could give me a hug, so we ended up standing there hugging each other for a minute. While we did, I told her, “Do not ever let anyone tell you any bullshit. You are gorgeous.” She said, “I have a new boyfriend and he keeps telling me that.” I told her he was right, and to just keep telling herself she’s gorgeous; it was okay if she didn’t always believe it, but to keep telling herself anyway. (That’s how I talked myself through shit when I had bad anxiety.)

We all know fat-shaming is bad. The stupidity, fatphobia, and misogyny of it has pissed me off since I first became aware of it. But working with clothing, especially as figure-hugging and precise as corsets, has given me a new perspective on it—how much it affects people and just how shitty it is. Like, what does it say that I had a grown, only average-big woman crying into my shoulder because she was so overjoyed not to be the uppermost extremity of what a manufacturer can clothe?

My job rocks and it’s really rewarding, but sometimes it highlights some of the ugliest shit about society. I’m so glad I work at a shop that’s not bullshit about body types and operates with more people in mind than just scrawny white chicks like me. The fat women I work with are a ton of fun to lace up, and they’re so much more than their size—they’re cool, they’re smart, they’re funny, they’re sweet, they’re great to talk to, and yes, they’re hot. I’m so damn done with them getting short-changed and shamed by petty fucks who refuse to make them nice clothes, who refuse to even try to work for them, who refuse to consider them pretty. This whole rant was useless and won’t get read, but I had to vent because it’s been driving me nuts.

So actually, screw you, random dude. Fat girls are the highlight of my job.

It'll Last Longer (Bucky Barnes x Reader) One-Shot

It’ll Last Longer: After being gifted a Polaroid camera, Bucky becomes infatuated with taking pictures. Reader finds out that Bucky likes to take pictures of her, leading them to discovering Bucky’s camera kink.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minor kink shaming. Minior humiliation. Come play. Camera kink. Extremely NSFW!



When Steve brought Bucky to the tower for the first time, you were curious about him. He was a bit reclusive. When you held out your hand for him to shake, he stared at it as if it were some kind of deadly insect. The man hardly looked at you more than twice after that. Steve assured you that Bucky did like you, it was just going to take some time for him to get used to being around females.

“He hasn’t seen a dame that wasn’t running for their life since back in the day,” he explained.

You understood completely, figuring if you just gave the poor guy some distance, he’d come around at some point. It was only the first day, so it was no big deal. You made sure to give him a smile each time you saw him and even exchanged good mornings at breakfast. It took a while, but he began coming out of his shell bit by bit.

However, nine months into his stay at the tower, Bucky still wasn’t ready to go on missions yet.

There were days when he was stuck at the tower by himself with absolutely nothing to do. He watched movies on Netflix, worked out in the magnificent gym, and even tried drawing like Steve did. But the boredom was becoming unbearable. That’s when Steve took it upon himself to get his best friend a hobby.

“What is this?” Bucky asks, curiously fiddling with the device in his hands.

“It’s a camera. Y/N used to have one growing up, so I figured you’d like it.”

Steve took the camera from his friend’s hands and turned it towards him. After a bright flash, the mechanical sound of the picture printing made Bucky’s eyes widen with shock. They watched as the small Polaroid picture ejected from the camera.

“Holy shit!” he gawked as he stared down at the camera.

“Language, Buck.” Steve laughed and tossed the camera back to him.


The camera became Bucky’s new obsession.

He began snapping pictures of small things at first. He got ones of the birds as they flew over the roof of the tower, he got some of Steve as he polished his shield in the armory, and he even managed to get some of Tony’s suits in his lab.

As time went on, and he came out of his shell bit by bit, he began taking pictures of the team (with their permission of course.).

Everyone had gotten used to the small mechanical sounds of his Polaroid camera. He had a small collection of his team mates covering the walls of his room.

The ones of Sam consisted of the man doing everyday things like playing video games or singing along to Marvin Gaye. His favorite was the one he snapped of him wearing his wings right before a mission. His back was turned, the lighting casting a shadow over the mechanical wings, making it look like it belonged in some action movie poster.

The ones of Nat were mostly of her outside. He thought the sun made her hair look fiery and complimented her skin perfectly. He got some of her lounging by the pool as she read a book. Some were of her doing yoga on one of the mats by a large window in the gym. His favorite was the one he took a couple weeks ago; she and Steve were at the park and he managed to catch a photo of them kissing secretively. Bucky still smiles every time he sees it.

The ones of Clint consist of the archer doing the dorkiest things. There were far too many ones of him aiming one of his arrows at one of the team members, making silly faces behind their backs. There was some of him playing guitar hero dramatically and even one of him trying to balance a vast amount of graham crackers on his forehead; that one was Bucky’s personal favorite.

The ones he got of Wanda, usually Vision was there with her, and so he just combined the two of theirs into one section in his room. Most of their pictures consisted of them cooking in the kitchen (Vision finally learned how to properly make paprika!) with the two covered in flour and laughing. There was some of Vision by himself, putting together the many puzzles he owned or helping Tony in the lab. The ones of Wanda consisted of the woman sculpting clay with her powers (which became a hobby of her own.) and covered in various colors of paint from head to toe.

Somehow, he was able to get some selfies from Thor when he came down from Asgard. He got some of the demi god placing his hammer on Steve’s shield with Steve struggling underneath it. His favorite was the one he got of him calling Heimdall to open the portal.

The ones of Tony were almost always from afar. He still wasn’t comfortable with the man just yet, but that didn’t stop him from snapping a few pics of him as he tinkered away in his garage. And he has one of the men secretly playing the grand piano in his basement. He made sure to hide that one.

Out of all the pictures he had in his room, he found that the ones of you took up the most space. And for a totally valid reason. Bucky would take it to the grave if he had to.

He was a little bit obsessed with you. Just a little bit.

Some of the pictures of you consisted of you working out. He found you the most beautiful when you simply weren’t trying to be. Your eyebrows were drawn together in focus, your hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, and you were completely unaware of your natural beauty. The other half were of you in your combat suit before a mission. There was something about your pre-mission aura that made you look amazing. You were standing next to Steve during a mission briefing, your eyes were focused on the paper in front of you. There were some of you doing your make up in the mirror of your bedroom, your hair in rollers as you applied a coat of mascara that you really didn’t need.

On top of all that, Bucky Barnes had a secret that nobody knew. He had an entire separate collection of Polaroids of you hidden in a small box underneath his bed and they were for his own eyes only. Steve had been the only one to notice that majority of the pictures Bucky took of you were ones in which you were wearing less clothing than usual. He nearly had a heart attack when the blond brought it up one day. But being the pure, wholesome soul Steve was, Bucky was able to argue that the pictures were taken in the summertime.

In the hidden box, there were various photos.

Some were of you in the swimming pool, wearing your bikini. The first picture was your breasts, he didn’t even bother to get your face into the shot. It was the first day of summer and it was your day off. The next picture was taken seconds later, but the shot was of your ass as you reached for the beer Nat was handing you. The material of the bottoms hugged around your curves amazingly, how could he not snap a picture?

The third photo was the main source of Bucky’s masturbating material, as it was a photo of you lying on one of the lounge chairs. The position Bucky was in gave him a perfect view of your clothed crotch. Your feet were planted on the chair, giving him the opportunity to snap the picture and slip it into his back pocket.

There was a second group of pictures from the one time the power went out during a thunderstorm, causing everything to shut down, even the water. Luckily for him, you were in the middle of a shower and had to step out into the common room wearing only a towel. He just HAD to get a picture of that. There were only two: One of you sitting on one of the stools. He purposely chose to sit on the couch to get a view of your slightly open legs, but alas, you crossed them as soon as he sat. The second one was of you crossing your arms over your chest, unknowingly causing your breasts to push up.

The third stack was taken during a Halloween party that Tony was throwing. You decided to come dressed up a Little Red Riding Hood, wearing a rather revealing corset and skirt that showed off your legs. The entire night, Bucky stealthily followed you around, snapping picture after picture of you. There were some that he was able to get up your skirt as you re crossed your legs or bent over. He got some of your breasts as you leaned over the pool table and some of your mouth as you bit into one of the candy apples Wanda made. Steve couldn’t figure out why Bucky was grinning like an idiot as he walked back to his room after the party. To sum it up, Bucky had a very good time in his room that night.

There was the downside of it all, though.

Bucky was taking inappropriate pictures of you without your permission. When it all came down to it, he was technically a peeping tom. It was wrong, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop, not matter how perverted it was. It was almost like an addiction. He longed to finally get a picture of you completely exposed and vulnerable. It was his biggest fantasy.

But honestly, he would be terrified if you somehow ever found out about his little perverted game.


Tony was perhaps the dumbest smart person you’ve ever known.

One of the greatest minds in the twenty first century, somehow managed to ‘accidentally’ cause a malfunction in one of his suits, causing it to explode in his workshop. The same workshop that was right next to the giant air conditioning unit, causing the entire tower’s air conditioning to go out in the middle of July.

You were in the common area, trying to read one of your beloved Harry Potter books, despite the scorching heat coming from outside. You tried to go swimming, but that only made it worse, hence the sun was still directly beaming on you. Giving up, you toweled off and plopped onto the couch, flipping through your book.

After a while of flipping through the book, you got the sudden feeling of someone watching you. It was probably nothing, as you were the only person on the floor. You focused back on the words of your book, scanning the paragraph for the place you left off.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it never went away. In fact, it only got stronger. Glancing up from your book, you caught the sight of Bucky Barnes watching you intently from the small kitchen area. The way he was positioned, the average person wouldn’t have been able to spot him, but you had grown used to his stealth.

Setting your book down, you gave him a smile. How long had he been there? Bucky was a pretty cool guy from your encounters, but this was creeping you out a bit. He blinked a few times, before pretending to do something. Unsure of how else to handle the situation, you went back to your book, ignoring the intense gaze from the kitchen.

After finishing your book, you closed it and rolled onto your back. The bikini top you wore tightened around your chest, but you couldn’t find yourself to care the slightest bit. You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. You really, really, missed the air conditioning.

For the second time that day, you felt the feeling of being watched creep its way into your mind. The sound of footsteps alerted you that you weren’t alone in the living room any more.

“Why don’t you take a picture, Barnes?” you tease, smirking. “It’ll last longer.”

Turning your head to the side, you caught the sight of Bucky peering down at you from behind the couch. In his hand was the small Polaroid camera you’d seen quite a bit. Trailing your eyes down his body, you noticed how handsome he was. Those darn super soldiers…

“I already have some of you,” his voice is soft, yet reluctant. Each one of his words were chosen carefully, you could sense it. “You’re just…very photogenic. I can’t help but admire.”

You’ve been called a lot of things by past boyfriends and lovers. Hot, sexy, etc.; but there was something about being called photogenic by Bucky that made your heart flutter and a blush break out on your cheeks. You sat up, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Photogenic?” you ask. He nods, eyes trailing down your body. “That’s one I haven’t heard before.” It was meant as a joke, but you both knew it was the truth.

“If it’s alright with you,” he says, holding the camera up for you to see. “Can I….take some pictures of you?”

The question catches you off guard.

You knew he took some snaps of you now and then, but he was technically asking you for a photoshoot now. You knew he wouldn’t post them or anything – he barely could operate the remote for the TV.

“Alright,” you say, standing and walking over to him. 

“Where do you want me?”


It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

You were in the pool, floating around on Clint’s little duck floaty as Bucky snapped picture after picture of you. It was almost as if you were some A-list celebrity. You felt like Marilyn Monroe without the extra craziness that came along with it. It was flattering, to say the least.

“Is this okay?” you asked him as you took a sip from your beer.

“It’s perfect,” he says, snapping another picture. “You look gorgeous.”

He looked like a kid at Christmas. Maybe he was just excited that someone had took an interest in his hobby? He always got that way when Steve asked him about his pictures.

After a couple of hours, you began to grow tired. The beaming sun on your body mixed with your hands turning wrinkly were draining you and Bucky had run out of film. He had used an entire roll; scattered all around him from his lap and onto the concrete were pictures of you.

“You said you had more of those,” you mention, peering up at him. He hums a yes while taking a sip of his own beer. You can’t help but stare at his jawline. Man, you could cut diamonds on that thing. “Can you show me?” His eyes light up at your words.

“Anything for you, doll.” He grins, setting the beer down and helping you out of the pool.

You’d always wanted to see this so called collection that Steve talked about. He said that Bucky had a whole wall dedicated

to it. You had to see this for yourself.

Bucky’s room wasn’t as dark and gloomy as you thought it would be. In fact, it was pretty well decorated.

The first thing you caught was the Polaroid’s, which covered an entire wall. You gaped, standing in front of it. There were pictures of everyone doing all sorts of things.

You saw one taken on Sam’s birthday; Clint had smashed some cake into his face. You saw another taken of Peter, who was dangling upside down on a web, grinning at the camera. You giggled when you saw one of Nat as she was angrily swatting at the camera, her face covered in a facial mask. There was even one of Vision giving the camera a thumbs up as he stirred whatever he was cooking.

But the one that caught your eye the most was a peculiar one on his desk. If you hadn’t of glanced there, you wouldn’t have noticed it in the first place. Moving the random book that covered half of it, you held it up so that you could get a better look.

And you weren’t sure if you should’ve done that.

It was a Polaroid of you a couple months back. You had spilled a glass of soda on your white sleeping shirt during movie night and your nipples were almost visible through the material.

Thinking back to that night, you remembered that there wasn’t anyone else in the kitchen with you either. How did he even get that pi-

Before you could react, Bucky snatched the Polaroid from your hand and held it behind his back defensively.

“What…how did….why?” you stuttered. If he’d taken one picture like this, there surely must’ve been more, right? He was far too skilled when it came to it.

Bucky stared down at the floor shamefully.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he says quietly. You frown.

“Find out what?” You ask, glancing back at the photos. “That you’re taking perverted pictures of me?”

“That’s not what this is, I swear!” he cried. “I like you, Y/N. A lot, actually. I didn’t know how to approach you. I’m not used to being around…women.”

“But Nat…”

“Nat’s well….she’s Nat,” he says with a nervous chuckle. One that he immediately stops when he sees your eyes grow colder. “She’s not really a traditional dame, if you catch my drift. She’s like one of the guys.”

You had no idea what to say. You were frustrated, not because you were embarrassed, but because somehow, deep in that dirty little mind of yours, you found this to be the sweetest thing. But you couldn’t figure out if it was because it was Bucky, or because it was the situation. You were utterly confused.

You stood in front of Bucky, holding the picture in your hands. 


“This has got to be the creepiest…” you began. His face fell into a frown. “….cutest thing anyone has ever done for me, Bucky.” You placed the picture back into his hand and placed a small kiss on his lips.

“What do you say we take some more? Maybe without all these clothes on?”

His eyes nearly shot out of his head at how wide they were. You watched his face as you reached behind your back and slowly undid the bikini top and dropped it onto the floor. His mouth fell open at the sight of your bare chest. You licked your lips before crashing them onto his. His hands felt their way to your hips, hooking underneath the bottoms of your bikini and tugging them down your thighs forcefully. Once he rid them from you, he gave your behind a playful swat. You moaned into his mouth. He pulled away, staring down at you with darkened eyes. This was far better than any picture he could’ve taken.

“C’mere,” he says, gently pushing you back onto the bed. He picked your legs and spread them wide, setting both your feet on the bed. You felt so exposed and it was the hottest thing you’ve experienced so far. You rested your hands on your stomach as you patiently waited for Bucky. The sound of clicking was the only thing audible as he replaced the film in his camera.

“Okay, doll,” his Brooklyn accent now, and it sent a wave of arousal to your core.

You picked your head up and peer up at him. He held the camera in his hands, but his eyes were glued between your legs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the comforter, just imagine how it must’ve looked to Bucky.

He cleared his throat before looking back into your eyes. “Can you spread your legs for me?” he asks.

You can’t help but giggle at how chivalrous he was even when he was horny. You nod, spreading your legs farther apart, giving him a full view of your pussy. You could hear his breath stutter, he cursed under his breath.

“Like this?” you ask innocently, sliding your hand down your body until your fingers are resting on your lips, spreading them apart. Bucky lets out a small groan at the sight and nods.

“That’s perfect, angel.” He says, looking into the camera and pressing the little red button on the side. You watched as the picture slipped out of the camera and onto Bucky’s hand. Setting it on the dresser, he turned back to you with a grin.

“You look so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he says, leaning down and pecking your lips. “Can you try something else for me?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, darling.” You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but you couldn’t help it. You were being showered with affection and compliments, you were lost in Bucky at the moment. 


Bucky held the camera with his flesh hand and brought his metal one to your mouth. His fingers brushed your bottom lip, running along the pink flesh. “Can you get these nice and wet for me, sweetie?” you groan at the nickname and take two of his fingers into your mouth, lapping them up with your tongue.

Bucky watched you as you did, licking his lips hungrily. Pulling them out, he leaned forward and pecked your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Leaning back between your legs, he slowly ran his fingers along the slit of your core, making sure your lips were spread. He placed the camera between your legs and pressed red the button again.

“Fuck,” you whispered. His metal fingers were cold, but you didn’t mind. They felt amazing.

You began grinding your hips into them, eager for some kind of friction. Bucky smiled down at you, one that showed nothing but pure admiration.

“You want my fingers, honey? Is that it?” he asks. You nod furiously.

“Please, Bucky.” Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when he inserted his first finger into you. But it wasn’t nearly enough. You needed more.

Placing the camera back between your legs, he added another finger; earning a moan from you. Clicking the red button, you let out another moan as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. You grabbed onto his arms, spreading your legs even wider.

“Oh my god,” you whimper. His fingers began creating an obscene sound as they entered you over and over again. It was so damn filthy, but you fucking loved it.

Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his fingers from your dripping core, making you whine.

“We’re not done yet, doll,” he says. He placed the camera on the bed and slowly pulled the black boxers he wore down. You watched as they traveled down his toned thighs until they were nothing more than a heap of material on the floor.

He gripped his member in his flesh hand and slowly began pumping himself as he stared down at you. That’s when you got the brightest idea. Reaching beside you, you grabbed the camera and aimed it at Bucky and pressed the little red button. You turned the camera towards you and held the Polaroid in your fingers. You couldn’t see his face, but you could had a perfect view of his cock, leaking precum onto his hand. Smiling innocently, you placed the picture on the dresser.

“Y/N,” he smiled. “Did you just….?”

You reached forward and pulled him on top of you. You threaded your fingers in his hair and crashed his mouth onto yours. He let out a moan into the kiss, licking inside your mouth with his tongue. He tasted so damn good, just like you knew he would.

Your legs found themselves wrapped around his waist and you could feel him sliding across your heat. You reached down between the two of you and gripped his member, guiding it to your entrance.

“Not so fast, sugar,” he teased, reaching for the camera. He leaned back, aiming the camera between your bodies. He gripped himself once again and slid the head of his cock against your dripping hole. You threw your head back, letting out a cry of pleasure. You ached for him, yet he tortured you. It wasn’t fair.

The sound of the camera snapping pulled you back to reality.

“Bucky,” you hissed. “Enough already. Just fuck me!” He chuckled with amusement.

He slowly pressed the head inside of you, stretching your walls farther than they’ve ever been. It hurt, but it was amazing. His head fell onto your shoulder and he let out a shaky breath. He pulled out all the way and peered down between the two of you. The sight of his cock covered in your juices nearly made you orgasm right then.

Without telling you, he slammed his hips into yours, making you scream out in both pain and pleasure. His thrusts were brutal, causing the bed to slam against the wall. You wrapped your arms around him. His mouth found its way to your shoulder, biting gently onto the flesh. He felt so fucking good, you felt like you could cry.

Shifting his weight onto his knees, Bucky pulled your legs over his waist and began thrusting harder into your abused hole. Your head fell back onto the bed, you could feel your clit rubbing against his abdomen in such delicious way.

It was all too much for you. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, your body was trembling with pleasure. Bucky’s hands began kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples softly. He let out a loud groan as he felt the head of his cock hit your cervix. The sound of your skin hitting his filled the room, along with your screams.

“Bucky,” you cried. "I’m gonna come!”

He let out a shaky laugh, amused at how much you loved this, before grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. He gently sucked on your neck, nibbling into the delicate flesh.

You let out a scream as your orgasm ripped through your body. You dragged your nails down Bucky’s back, making him let out a gasp. His thrusts are becoming sloppy, you can feel him trembling against your body, but you’re too out of it to even care. You just came your brains out.

“Fuck, Y/N!” He growled into your ear. “Im gonna come.”

You gently pushed him away from you, he let out a whine. Placing a kiss on his cheek, you force him to stand. You kneel in front of him, opening your mouth for him.

Taking the hint, he grabbed the camera and aimed it at you, while pumping himself curiously with his metal hand.

He’s chanting your name over and over, thrusting into his fist and its the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. You can’t wait to taste him.

FUCK Y/N!” He shouts, his orgasm ripping through him.

You lean closer as he coats ribbon after ribbon of come onto your mouth and breasts. It was a lot, far more than any of the few guys you’ve been with could produce. He tasted sweeter than them, too. You licked your lips, gathering some of it with your tongue.

You looked up at Bucky innocently, smiling at him.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this, Y/N.” he breathes. He lifted the camera and aimed it at you. With a nod, you smile seductively as he clicked the little red button.

Tossing the camera onto the bed, he helped you up from the floor and set you on his bed. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he ran to the bathroom. You could hear the faint sound of a faucet running. He made his way back to you, a small washcloth in hand and a sheepish smile on his lips.

He gently wiped your face, making sure nothing was left, before making his way to your chest.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking the silence. Your eyes met his.

“Yes, Bucky?” The corners of his mouth twitched at the sound of his name coming from your mouth.

I love you.” You can’t fight the grin that spreads on your face.

“I know,” you say, placing a kiss on his lips. “I love you, too.

- Fin!

Halloween

Summary: Nat and Wanda trick you into going to a Halloween party at the Stark Tower.

Warnings: smut- oral (receiving), penetration; fluff

A/N: Wrote this to get out of my writer’s block. I hope you like it!


“Fuck!” Nat yanked the strings tighter and you gasped for air. “I know I wanted to wear a corset for Halloween but-”

“Authentication is the key.” She helped you straighten. “And look at how great your breasts look.” 

“They do look pretty great.” You admired yourself in the mirror, running your hands down your torso and enjoying the feeling of the leather under your fingertips. “So…are you finally going to tell me who’s going to be at this party?”

“Nope, it’s a secret.” Nat chuckled as she adjusted her hair and makeup. “Don’t worry, you’re going to have fun.”

“You’re in for some serious hell if you’re lying to me.” You pointed at her and slipped into your leggings. “Why do I have to be a sexy cat? Why can’t I be like Victorian royalty?” 

“Because last time you were drunk you let it slip that you’ve always wanted to dress up as one.” Wanda slipped into the room grinning. “I told Nat and she helped me get the costume, now let’s go.” 

Keep reading

2

When you wear a corset and ball gown and heels all day, every day, you get sick of dressing up. I get excited to dress up for modern events. Doing events like that is super fun, because I don’t really dress up to go out anymore. I don’t really even go out anymore because I work so much. And when I do go out, I’m in boots or really comfy platforms and jeans and a t-shirt or a sweater, and that’s it. I do not dress up, because of course I’m in stilettos all week. But it is fun to once in a blue moon dress up for an event.

◆ —— CURSE OF THE BLACK PEARL QUOTES STARTER PROMPTS.

❛ They’re safe ❜  
❛ She’s/he’s/they’re safe, just like I promised. ❜
❛ And you get to die for her/him/them, just like you promised. ❜
❛ We’re all men/woman of our word. ❜
❛ This is either madness or brilliance. ❜
❛ It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide. ❜
❛ Me? I’m dishonest. ❜
❛ And a dishonest man/woman/person you can always trust to be dishonest. ❜
❛ It’s the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they’re going to do something incredibly.. stupid. ❜
❛ This is the day you will always remember as the day you almost caught NAME. ❜
❛ You cheated. ❜
❛ Pirate. ❜
❛ You are without doubt the worst pirate I’ve ever heard of. ❜
❛ What’s your purpose? ❜
❛ I confess, it is my intention to commandeer one of these ships. ❜
❛ I confess, it is my intention to raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out. ❜
❛ I said no lies. ❜
❛ I think he’s telling the truth. ❜
❛ If he/she/they were telling the truth, he/she/they wouldn’t have told us. ❜
❛ That’s not true. ❜
❛ I am not obsessed with treasure. ❜
❛ Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate. ❜
❛ You’re supposed to be dead! ❜
❛ The only rules that matter are these: what a man/woman/person can do and what a man/woman/person can’t do. ❜
❛ Pirate is in your blood, boy. ❜
❛ I can let you drown. ❜
❛ So, can you sail under the command of a pirate, or can you not? ❜
❛ Drink up, me hearties. Yo ho. ❜
❛ You burned all the food, the shade.. the rum! ❜
❛ Yes, the rum is gone. ❜
❛ Why is the rum gone? ❜
❛ It is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels. ❜
❛ The entire Royal Navy is out looking for me. ❜
❛ Do you really think there is even the slightest chance they won’t see it? ❜
❛ There’ll be no living with him/her/them after this. ❜
❛ I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against PLACE. ❜
❛ There are a lot of long words in there, Miss/Mr. ❜
❛ We’re naught but humble pirates. ❜
❛ What is it that you want? ❜
❛ I want you to leave and never come back. ❜
❛ I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Mean’s no. ❜
❛ I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean. ❜
❛ Too long I’ve been starving to death and haven’t died. ❜
❛ I feel nothing. ❜
❛ You best start believing in ghost stories, NAME. You’re in one. ❜
❛ No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder? ❜
❛ If you were waiting for the opportune moment, that was it. ❜
❛ I want you to know that I was rooting for you. Know that. ❜
❛ It never would have worked between us, darling. ❜
❛ I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know. ❜
❛ How far are you willing to go to save her/him/them? ❜
❛ I’d die for her/him/them. ❜
❛ You need to find yourself a girl/boy, mate. ❜
❛ Who are you? ❜
❛ No one. He’s no one. Distant cousin of my aunt’s nephew twice removed. Lovely singing voice. Eunuch. ❜
❛ A wedding? I love weddings. Drinks all around! ❜
❛ I love this song. ❜
❛ You’ll be positively the most fearsome pirates in the Spanish Main. ❜
❛ You stole my boat! ❜
❛ I borrowed. Borrowed without permission, but with every intention of bringing it back. ❜
❛ It’s frightful bad luck to have a woman on board. ❜
❛ She/he/they go free. ❜
❛ You only got one shot. ❜
❛ We can’t die. ❜
❛ Don’t do anything stupid. ❜
❛ The crew are not to be harmed. ❜
❛ Curse you for breathin’, ya slack-jawed idiot. ❜
❛ You should know better than to wake a man when he’s sleepin’. It’s bad luck. ❜
❛ Savvy? ❜
❛ It’s not worth you getting beat again. ❜
❛ You didn’t beat me. ❜
❛ You ignored the rules of engagement. In a fair fair, I’d kill you. ❜
❛ That’s not much incentive for me to fight fair then, is it? ❜
❛ The deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers. ❜
❛ You know nothing of hell. ❜
❛ How can we sail to an island that nobody can find with a compass that doesn’t work? ❜
❛ I’m actually feeling rather good about this. ❜
❛ You could surrender. ❜
❛ I’m gonna teach you the meaning of pain. ❜
❛ You like pain? Try wearing a corset. ❜
❛ Wretch. ❜
❛ I couldn’t resist, mate. ❜
❛ That’s got to be the best pirate I’ve ever seen. ❜
❛ I cannot just step aside and let you escape. ❜
❛ This shot was not meant for you. ❜
❛ You’re pirates. ❜
❛ Hang the code, and hang the rules. They’re more like guidelines, anyway. ❜
❛ You lying bastard! ❜
❛ Don’t dare impugn me honor, boy/girl! ❜
❛ I always liked you. ❜
❛ It goes with your black heart. ❜
❛ I really rather hoped we were past all this. ❜
❛ Perhaps you’ll conjure up another miraculous escape, but I doubt it. ❜
❛ Do us a favor. I know it’s difficult for you… but please, stay here, and try not to do anything… stupid. ❜
❛ Even a good decision if made for the wrong reasons can be a wrong decision. ❜
❛ Any man who falls behind, is left behind. ❜
❛ Take what you can! Give nothin’ back. ❜
❛ I hardly believe in ghost stories. ❜
❛ We are cursed men. ❜
❛ Will you be saving her/him then? ❜
❛ I can’t swim. ❜
❛ I’m watching over you. ❜
❛ I should have told you from the moment I met you. I love you. ❜
❛ Hang him. ❜
❛ Keep your guns on him, men. ❜
❛ How did you escape last time? ❜
❛ This man/woman/person saved my life. ❜
❛ One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness. ❜
❛ Come out… and we promise we won’t hurt you. ❜
❛ I invoke the right of parlay. ❜
❛ I can’t breathe. ❜
❛ You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before? ❜
❛ I had a dream about you last night. ❜
❛ You don’t want to be doing that, mate. ❜
❛ I’m curious. After killing me, what is it you’re planning on doing next? ❜
❛ Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death? ❜
❛ You forget your place. ❜
❛ So, this is where your heart truly lies? ❜
❛ I already feel like a fool. ❜
❛ I admire a person who’s willing to do whatever’s necessary. ❜
❛ You’re a smart man/woman/person, but I don’t entirely trust you. ❜
❛ I’m not sure I deserved that. ❜
❛ I may have deserved that. ❜
❛ You’re safe now. ❜
❛ You’re despicable. ❜
❛ I saved your life, you saved mine. We’re square. ❜
❛ I can get you out of here. ❜
❛ I’d need a lot more to drink. ❜
❛ It was a good plan.. up ‘till now. ❜
❛ Do not make the mistake in thinking you are the only man here who cares for NAME. ❜
❛ Is there a problem between us? ❜
❛ Every decision you’ve made has only brought us from bad to worse. ❜
❛ Easy on the goods, darling. ❜
❛ I’m not entirely sure that I’ve had enough rum to allow that kind of talk. ❜
❛ He’s still breathing. ❜
❛ Easy on the goods, darling. ❜

2

You vs the girl she tells you not to worry about

when people complain about season 1 being boring and im like this is literally the happiest season ever can we just go back to season 1 please everyone is alive everyone wears turbans flint is just an asshole that ran away with someones wife silver has two legs eleanor doesnt have to wear a corset jack wears sunglasses gates just sits out on the porch for hours watching naft critique tit art like this season was so Good.

anonymous asked:

Can you elaborate on your issues with Emma Watson? I am genuinely curious since I've always been pretty neutral about her.

The biggest issue I take with her is that I can’t get behind her brand of feminism; it’s lacking in intersectionality and inclusiveness. HeForShe is problematic. She uses her white privilege to invite men (predominately white men because those are the circles she runs with) to the table who already have all of the power in the world to speak up if they wish to instead of passing the microphone to people of color or queer people. 

She stated that feminism isn’t a stick with which to beat other women with, but she does just that. She condemned Beyoncé for showing her body and being voyeuristic despite the fact that she recently did a Vanity Fair topless shoot. Women should not be defined by what they do or do not wear, and their feminsm shouldn’t be put under scrutiny for these choices either.

She also insists that her version of Belle has more agency than 1991 Belle simply because she’s not as traditionally feminine. Lately I’ve seen numerous women (including my sister) get berated for wanting to lead traditionally feminine lives or dressing a certain way or wearing makeup or pursuing romance when none of this is inherently anti-feminist. It’s so important to support all women in who they choose to be and what they choose to do so long as they are advocating for equality as well. Emma Watson continues to perpetuate this modern myth that you have to be physically strong or outspoken or independent in order to be feminist, which simply isn’t true and needs to stop. 

She took a holier-than-thou approach when talking about Cinderella (2015) and turning down the role (presumably because she wouldn’t have been able to push her agenda or have as much influence as she did with BATB), and criticized Lily James for wearing a corset. A) corsets are time period specific and made sense for Cinderella and not BATB and B) the issue of slimness = beauty is greater than that of a single actress or character. 

She compared Belle’s struggles of not fitting in to the struggles of the queer community which is just… no? Stop? Also classifying Belle as ‘different’ is just pushing the “I’m not like other girls!” narrative. 

Lastly, I’m just not a big fan of her acting or singing. I feel she plays the same Hermione (herself) part again and again, and I’m not sure why she has such a huge following. I am all for people learning and growing, and I won’t write someone off who clearly has good intentions. But if you’re going to claim yourself as a feminist icon then you need to be aware of intersectional issues and absorb certain criticisms instead of deflecting them. I don’t agree with a lot of what she’s pushing, and I’m worried that some of it can be harmful to young women because of how popular she is.

I’m probably pissing off some people by saying this, but it is the truth; doing sports with a binder will hurt you.

Binding in general is not the healthiest thing to do to your body, but to transboys like me it’s not really an option to wear one or not. But no matter how uncomfortable I’ll get by not wearing a binder in (somewhat) public, I WILL NOT do anything considered sport or exercises! 

Wearing a binder makes you unable to use all of your lungs, and if you bind tightly with a big chest, you can even end up pusing your ribs. You wouldn’t wear a corset on a jog, so don’t wear a binder. 

I’d actually recommend, if you can’t do any exercises without a binder, DO NOT DO IT. Sure a healthy body is important, but if binding is your ONLY option, it is NOT worth it. I’d rather recommend accepting your body as it is for the time being and owning what you got. I got big breasts and I’m not too fond of them, but with a sports bra and a tight tank top, damn I look fine. (but not as fine as I’ll look with a flat chest ayy am I right?)

Please, if you GOTTA do anything in a binder, just go for a long WALK but get your binder off as quickly as possible afterwards.

- Addam

10

Welcome back to FRIDAY FASHION FACT! Today’s topic is one that seems to be quite the curiosity to many people, or, more accurately, to many women. That’s right, I’m finally covering maternity wear in the age of corsets! It’s no wonder why this topic is so perplexing to so many people- it is a shockingly un-discussed area of fashion history. We rarely, if ever, see images of pregnant women throughout history. What we commonly see, though, is women with teeny-tiny waists that are caged in and perfectly flattened by stays and corsets. Clearly, those styles didn’t leave much room for a little alien growing in a woman’s belly. Yet the fact that we all here today is proof that the vast majority of women throughout history were pregnant at some point in their lives. This means that some sort of clothing accommodating a rapidly growing midsection had to exist. So what did it look like?

Up until the Renaissance, maternity wear was barely, if at all, different from regular dress. This is because in these early days, clothing was not fitted to the body. Fabric was cut in rectangular pieces that were laced together, making it easy to tighten or loosen a dress. During pregnancy, women would simply loosen the lacing, allowing more of her underlayers of clothing to be visible, possibly adding additional layers. Later in a pregnancy, women simply stayed at home, meaning they could just wear loose undergarments and open robes. During the late Middle Ages, it was in fact fashionable for a woman to appear pregnant, whether or not she actually was. They would wear high waisted gowns with extra fabric gathered around her belly, thus making specific maternity wear unnecessary.

By the Renaissance, though, seams and structure became integral parts of fashion. Stays came into fashion (read here) resulting in a restricted bodice. During this era, women would loosen the bottom of their stays as much as possible during the early part of their pregnancy, thus causing the bump to appear rather low. Those who could afford new clothing would wear shortened bodices as their stomachs grew larger. Those who could not had two options. One, they would wear a man’s waistcoat paired with their loose underlayers and skirts. This is because during this era men’s waistcoats had vents in the back, held together by lacing which could be loosened. The other option was to wear a bodice that laced in the front, leaving the lacing around the belly open. This would then be covered up with an apron. Using an apron to cover an open bodice that accommodated a full belly remained the go-to style for the pregnant poor for the next couple of centuries.

The first official pregnancy garment was created in the 17th century. Known as the Adrienne dress, the style had loose folds of fabric where normally a fitted waist would be found. The Adrienne developed throughout the next century, and by the 18th century it often included a bib that could be folded down for breastfeeding. In the early 19th century Neoclassical era, fashion was once again in a style that easily accommodated a pregnant figure. By the 1820s, though, structured undergarments made their way back into style, soon becoming the cinched-waisted corsets we associate with the word today. However, maternity corsets were also created around this time. These garments were created to shape, support, and minimize the appearance of a belly. They were adjustable, and some had flaps for breastfeeding. There were countless styles created, all boasting some new-found advantage.

Throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries, maternity wear would either raise or lower waistlines, depending on which was more fashionable at the time, to accommodate the shape. The crinoline era used empire waists, as well as separate blouses and skirts, often covered by a large jacket to hide the bump. At home, wrappers and robes were extremely common. The bustle era, with its drop waists, attempted to hide the shape by smoothing it down into folds of fabric by the hips. When tea gowns- unstructured, flowing dresses- were developed towards the end of the Victorian era, they became the fashionable choice for women at home, particularly towards the end of their term. Yet the birth (get it??) of the ready to wear industry (read here) and the downfall of the corset shortly after caused maternity wear to shift towards the distinctive garments we often think of today. That, however, is a topic for another day.

Have a question about fashion history that you want answered in the next FRIDAY FASHION FACT? Just click the ASK button at the top of the page!

“Nothing bold or magnificent is built from fear.” –Amazon’s The Collection

Gone was the hard, boxy and masculine look (including liberating trousers) that came with wartime fabric rationing. “Hideous and repellent” is how Dior described that look. Instead he made sculpted dresses of as much as 25 yards of the finest luxury fabrics: ultrafeminine, but a burden to wear. Corsets shrank waists by up to two inches; crinolines and padding made full, calf-length skirts even more voluminous. Busts were lifted and breasts made into pointed cones. High heels and wide-brimmed or tilted tri-cornered hats completed the look. Comfort was not the point: not then, and not now, on the small screen. [x]