It Was Amazing - Tumblr Posts
So
........... hero's rising.......
Chip wakes up from a nightmare and Gillion offers comfort - and finally figures out why Chip's Coat felt so familiar to him.
THE SELKIE CHIP AU LIVES AT LAST IVE FINALLY WRITTEN SOMETHING FOR IT!!!
feel free to ask me anything about selkie chip i could ramble for hours
LIGHT-TRICKS AND DISAPPEARING ACTS : a chapbook by me, @sheherazade, of seven poetry/prose pieces. themed around an ongoing conversation between the narrator and their shadow.
you can get the pdf of this chapbook for free here.
thank you so much if you read it; feedback and reblogs are so deeply appreciated..
BTS 'Fire' Theory
the fire symbolizes the fact that I might as well burn myself alive with this comeback
in the wrong. / levi x f!reader
for @levievent #levimonth24. (day one: pre-canon, first time)
pairing: gang leader!levi ackerman x military police!reader word count: 2.4k summary: You're Military Police. He's public enemy number one. Getting involved with one another is wrong.
tags: 18+ MINORS DNI! pre-aot, in the canon of 'a choice with no regrets', smut, enemies to lovers, military brutality mention, first time, bottom!levi, virgin!levi credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics
And so it goes—
There’s no disputing if waiting here in the dead of night is right or wrong.
Leaving your post, forcing your colleagues to pick up the slack — it’ll catch up with you eventually.
Military Police stationed within the Underground City is about as much of an oxymoron as it comes. You see the irony of walking these streets as the symbols of order when it’s a place that thrives in disorder.
Your superiors don’t wish to save these people.
You — your squadron — will do nothing here.
(But he could.)
Meeting with the leader of the most notorious gang in the city started out as an accident, really.
You’d minded yourself down here, still trying to do your job when you could: helping elderly people walk their rotting groceries to their door; aiding a young child who found themselves lost, only to witness the dilapidated home they came from; smuggling your own rations down from the surface to feed the sick.
In their eyes — wrong.
In his — confusion.
If you ever came into contact with the perpetrator known as Levi, then you were meant to engage.
Albeit fast on his feet and even faster with a weapon, his ever-growing group of goons were the Military Police’s biggest enemy.
You’d just spotted a redhead doing her best to creep up one of the staircases towards the surface, assuming no one was watching.
There are people up there, you remember saying.
Her wide eyes stared back at you with uncertainty, like perhaps getting her attention was a trick to set her up, but you’d managed to grab her by the scruff of her dirtied vest.
The small girl made a noise of protest, but you did your best to press a finger to your lips:
Silent.
Pulling her back into the shadows with you had been the smart move — the unit at the top of the stairs trudged down the stairs and into the Underground pathway, presumably to cause trouble.
They always did.
You held onto the stranger until the unit disappears, letting go only once the place is clear.
The girl turned around, seemingly breathless. “You… why?”
You didn't know.
“I don’t know,” you confessed, blinking between her face and the pathway. Paranoid. “Those two are pieces of work. Nasty. Would’ve had your damn head on a platter.”
“So you saved my life?” she asked, and the musical naivety of her voice squeezed your aching stomach.
“It wasn’t that noble,” you promised softly. “Just… be more careful.”
She realized as seconds pass: you’re letting her go.
There’s nothing to arrest her for.
The people down here suffer enough.
When she left, you thought it was the last time you’d ever see her.
.
.
— —
.
.
It isn’t.
.
.
— —
.
.
“The hell is an MP doing here, Isa?”
You can’t say. You’re not sure.
The redhead, a common recurring figure in your time patrolling the Underground, seems to have taken a liking to you when she surely shouldn’t.
Isabel Magnolia, you learn, is her name.
Talking to you about her life, asking questions about the surface, wondering if there’s a better life up there—
She’s a part of a found family she definitely shouldn’t be telling you about.
You explain that, while the sun is beautiful, the surface isn’t much better sometimes.
If there’s a better life, then clearly you wouldn’t know it.
You’re stuck down here, too, whether you’d like to admit it or not.
Perhaps by choice — you enlisted for a reason — but nonetheless stuck.
She’s so cheerful. Trusting.
You hate that for her.
(Someone could take advantage. Doesn’t she know that?)
Yet when Isabel grabs your hand one day and excitedly pulls you down an alleyway, telling you she has to show you something, you wonder if this is the moment where your stupidity catches up to you with a final blow to the head.
So it begs the question while you’re standing in an oddly pristine, clean-to-the-edges apartment in the middle of the city where two boys stare at you like you’re the devil incarnate:
What the hell is an MP doing here?
An ashy-haired boy yelps from his spot at a round dining table, catching a second dark-haired boy’s attention. He whips around, the whites of his eyes growing while he stares directly at you.
Immediately you recognize the cold stare, the raven-black fringe sweeping against them.
A smaller frame for a man but nevertheless daunting.
Billowing white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His hands are busy scrubbing dishes at the sink of their quaint kitchenette.
The one they call Levi.
“This is the girl who saved me a few months ago,” Isabel chirps like it’s nothing, happily tugging you further into the apartment.
Your uniform feels constricting, like it’s threatening to choke you out.
“You never said it was a goddamn MP, Isa,” the lankier boy whisper-shouts as he stands from the table, his head whipping between the other two. “Levi? The hell do we do?”
Levi’s silent, observing you.
“Isabel, I should go,” you murmur to your odd friend, looking over the ginger warily. “They’re right. I shouldn’t be here.”
“But why not?” Isabel asks with confusion. “You’re not like them. Furlan, she’s really not, she’s actually really—”
“You’re the one who saved her ass from MPs?”
Levi’s voice, smooth like honey and deep like a rumble, cuts through your panic.
You turn your chin to regard him, lips parted with an apology you shouldn’t owe.
“She was getting too close to the stairwell,” you confess softly to him, clenching your fists at your sides. “I know how the MPs treat people down here. I didn’t — I couldn’t let something happen to her.”
“Why?” he asks abruptly, eyes narrowing.
Isn’t that the question of the hour:
Why are you trying to get yourself fired and tossed down here with the rest of them?
“Because it… was the right thing to do.”
He makes a noise, something of a tch, before picking up a fourth tea cup.
.
.
— —
.
.
If your colleagues knew you spent the better part of your shifts in the Underground talking to their number-one public enemy, with your backs against adjacent brick walls — you facing the street, him in the shadows of an alleyway — they wouldn’t hesitate.
Execution style, side by side.
You confess the routes of your brethren.
You warn them of the dangers of different colleagues that want nothing more than to hurt people, to use their position of power for worse.
It takes time — months upon months — but eventually his group grows stronger than your unit.
They could very well kill you themselves, if they wanted.
Maybe you’re like Isabel with the desperation to connect.
Maybe you find yourself hating the animals your colleagues become under the guise of an endless night.
Levi meets with you weekly, if not daily, by this point.
For the good of his friends, he claims. Nothing more.
You don’t blame him.
(Yet the more you talk to him, learn about what he’s built, what he’s about, the less you feel like returning to the sun.)
.
.
— —
.
.
He likes tea.
That much you’ve gathered in your time sitting in the living kitchenette of their apartment.
You’ll never forget the change in his expression, usually so stoic and emotionless, when you produced a small bag from under your emerald cloak late one evening.
“The traders down here don’t carry these blends,” you tell him, pushing the bag towards him.
His eyes squint, observing the brown pouch with confusion, before reaching to delicately unravel the tie holding it together.
Levi lets out a gentle huff when the aroma hits him, face smoothing with recognition.
Fresh leaves.
“Why?”
It’s a question you’ve even asked yourself.
You get things for Furlan and Isabel all the time, their requests for surface goods fairly frequent, but—
“Because you never ask for anything,” you confess. “And it’s the least I can do.”
“But why?” he questions again, softer this time.
His gaze flickers to yours.
Your throat clenches with the truth.
“I don’t know.”
A lie.
.
.
— —
.
.
You’re meant to be patrolling the streets of the Underground City in the dead of night.
Another lie.
All you’ve learned to do is hide, steal, and lie.
Yet nothing feels closer to the truth than Levi letting you into the small, cramped apartment.
Opening his home to you.
The enemy.
“Furlan and Isabel are elsewhere tonight,” he confesses under his breath when he closes the door.
“Elsewhere?” you ask him quietly. “Are they safe?”
“You would know if they weren’t.”
You step forward, anticipating the same song and dance you’ve played for over a year now.
Instead of dancing with you, playing the game, Levi stays put.
It forces you chest to chest, eye to eye, and suddenly you realize just how blue those gray eyes really are.
Stormy, like a sky he’ll never see.
Something shifts in his expression. Something lighter, tangible, as he takes a slow inhale through his nose.
You shift on impulse, angling closer, until you feel the heat of his face.
“Can’t,” he states, like you know what he’s saying.
By now, you do.
“I know,” you whisper, and those eyes dart lower.
Cheeks.
Nose.
Lips.
“Shouldn’t,” he argues to no one but himself when he leans closer.
His breath tickles your face.
“Wrong,” you agree, accidentally brushing your lips to his.
A single act opens the floodgates.
Both pairs of hands jump as your lips smash into one another’s.
His palm cradles the back of your head while yours guides his cheek closer, directing the angle of the kiss.
With a purposeful push, he slams you into the front door, caging you in and causing stars to flash behind your eyelids.
You’re already undoing the straps of your uniform with haste — he may have stolen ODM gear in the time you’ve known him, but you’re not confident he knows how to disrobe a military uniform.
He seems grateful, because he grunts against your lips and flicks his tongue against your lower lip in thanks. You part your lips obediently.
Can’t, but you’re still hopping up into his arms the second you free your lower half of white uniform trousers.
Shouldn’t, but he catches you with ease, digging his free hand into the flesh of your ass while he pivots and walks with you in his arms.
Wrong, but he drops down to his couch anyway, letting you sit in his lap.
There’s no time for decorum.
His hand blindly dips down your lower belly and slips under the fabric of your panties, groaning when he realizes you’ve been wet since you saw him.
You make the tiniest noise, a strangled moan at best, and you feel it right against your lips:
A smirk.
Brief and fleeting, but you felt it.
Lazily dragging his fingertips in a circle around your clit, your breath becomes stagnated. Shaky.
Your bare thighs clench around his, trying to keep your wits about you, but his hand only proceeds faster to ruin those efforts.
“Off,” you weakly state, reaching between you to pathetically tug at his own trousers.
Levi pulls away from your mouth, staring up at you in his lap. “That’s—”
“What I want,” you interrupt, and you see his throat bob with a swallow.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses, and it feels like the closest you’ve ever gotten to knowing the essence of him.
“You don’t have to,” you promise. “I do.”
Once, fumbling at the cadet barracks.
It was awkward and quick and unremarkable.
Yet the way Levi’s eyes widen with recognition, you already know this is what you want — him, every fragment of him, hidden away from the world.
Pushing him to the couch cushions, you raise your hips to help him push down his trousers and underwear.
His cock springs free and his hisses at the contrast of the cool air and his hot skin.
You take advantage of the moment, wrapping your hand around him.
The way he whines when your hand leisurely pumps will be burned into the back of your skull.
“Are you sure?”
His question manages to weave itself through the hazy maze of your mind.
Glancing down at him, you note how flushed his cheeks have become; how his chest rises and falls under that flowing white shirt. He looks utterly wrecked without having to do much of anything.
“Are you sure?” you ask in return, giving your answer rhetorically.
Panting, the dark-haired boy nods.
Certain.
So are you.
“Just touch me,” you tell him, and Levi leaps at the damn opportunity to do so.
He raises up from the couch to loop his palm around your neck, dragging you down with him into a searing kiss. You moan into it, gently nudging the tip of him to your entrance.
When his hand returns to your clit, eager to draw those noises out of you, it only makes it that much easier to slowly push yourself down onto his length.
Both of your mouths drop open, wide with a soundless shout, as you ease him fully into you.
Wrong.
Over and over, the word plays in your mind.
Levi groans as you drag your body up, then down, beginning a tentative rhythm.
Wrong.
Nothing fills you like him.
Nothing fills you like this.
He lets you set the pace as you fuck him on his couch, the sounds of your pleasure mixing in the midnight air.
Faster.
Harder.
His hand grips your hip so hard it could leave a bruise.
You don’t care.
He groans a semblance of your name, something he rarely does, and squeezes harder.
Close.
If he’s never done this, then you know he won’t last long.
With your own climax coming at you with a vengeance, you can’t find a reason to care.
Suddenly you feel it — the wave rises so fast and falls that you don’t have time to warn him.
Within seconds you cum around him, violently shuddering around him as you cry against his mouth.
The sheer force of it causes Levi to gasp sharply, hips slamming abruptly into you so he’s buried deep—
He doesn’t have time to warn you, either.
He cums just as hard, sealing the loud moan with a kiss to your lips.
You still your hips, spent — his arms catch you when you crumble against his chest, desperately trying to catch your breath.
You’ve passed it: the point of no return, forced to confront a choice with no regrets.
The aftermath, euphoria clouding judgment, hasn’t quite hit yet.
Wrong.
(Neither of you care.)
.
author's note:
Thank you so much for reading! This one shot was unbeta'd and written in two hours so I hope this insane "I woke up with this idea and really wanted to participate" story made you as sweaty as it made me this morning.
Sometimes I think about this monologue in Tommy’s March 12th, 2021 stream
hard liquor | myg. (m)
➵ summary: your dull evening at a bar becomes hopeful when your mysterious, handsome boss min yoongi shows you the ropes on everything alcohol, but shows you much more when he ends up buried deep inside you.
➵ pairing: executive boss!yoongi x employee!reader
➵ genre: business!au, age gap!au (5 years), smut, pwp
➵ rating: 18+
➵ word count: 8k
➵ warnings: alcohol consumption, teasing, explicit sexual content, pussy fondling, semi-public fingering, exhibitionism, humiliation, dry-humping, begging, titty sucking, marking, manhandling, dirty talk, elevator sex, tipsy sex (consensual), cum-eating, impregnation kink, creampie <3
➵ a/n: HELLOO THIS FIC IS FINALLY HERE!! thank you endlessly to everyone who’s patiently waited and shown support for this before it was even written, i hope it reads well!! 🥺 a million thank you’s to my wife @amourtae for beta-ing!! your feedback is always appreciated <3
“One more sangria, please.”
“Haven’t you had enough of those?”
Keep reading
The fact that I have not seen a single person talk about “Go ahead, Mr. British Man: wow me with your miracles!” Mr. David John Tennant What Was That Voice
14/30 - Your favourite silent film
Modern Times (1936), dir.: Charles Chaplin
Boy and The World (O Menino e o Mundo) 2013 dir. Alê Abreu
i have no words, that was an experience
Anyway if you see this you have to reblog and tag with a delight from ur day -- even the littlest thing counts
Heartbreak High (2022-) Epidode 1.01 “Map Bitch”
=^>
GOD OF WAR: RAGNARÖK Santa Monica Studio (2022)
pls repost if possible I really need at least 5 slots rn:pp thank you for your time, for more info pls dm me !!!
So while my tablet is trying to process the first post
Part:2/?
Very cute!it was a buy 5 get 2 gift.My personal favourite is Bulbasaur followed by Gengar!he looks like he's up to mischief!:9/10(I don't have an addiction to stickers,I don't have an addiction to stickers,I do-)
That was a lot of stickers.Hiwever, we're not done!I also found some genshin stickers
Scara and Fremi! My favorites.Now,while this are amazing stickers it would not be Genshin if there wasn't a way to gamble!there was a while that cost 50 cents for one spin.I spent 1 euro and got two spins!The first time I tried I got characters thet they were out of (Ga ming and Navia) so they let me spin again and I got drumroll pls:
Ganyu and Kazuha!
20/10 for these amazing stickers
Part 2/3