boot tower

ebonyheartnet  asked:

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.

anonymous asked:

your headcanon of girl!bts and what they'd be like

omg okay!!!!

yoongi: butch lesbian…….. always wearing ripped jeans and baggy tshirts. she has rly short hair bc taking care of long hair is too much work. no one can rmr the last time they saw her wearing high heels. pretends she hates tall ppl but melts when one of the girls hug her from behind. hates men every second of her life.

seokjin: long brown hair….. she likes wearing tight pants and like blouses and stuff shes #chic….. neutral bi. makeup is her coping mechanism… mom friend who everyone secretly wants to bang… hates boys but in a its so unfortunate im attracted to them way

namjoon: probably had t/erf bangs at some point before knowing what theyre related to. likes dyeing her own hair (and yoongi’s). she used to be self conscious abt being tall but now wears boots with plataform and towers over everyone else. likes girls above all else

hoseok: shoulder lengh black hair….. probably the dancer u see on youtube and want to die bc shes hot as fuck. prefers wearing sporty outfits which makes everyone around her go [cold sweats emoji]. chaotic pan

jimin: hair a bit longer than her shoulders… she likes to keep it a dark brown….. tiny but thick…. jm is the girl who everyone thinks is straight until they see her making out with her gf (tae) at a party. 

taehyung: goes through lots of phases and that reflects her hair… rn she has like blonde coco channel style hair bc she likes fashion or smth like that. tall and lean but is obviously the little spoon in her relationship. big old lesbian who pretends men dont exist

jungkook: dresses even more butch than yg but she buys all of her clothes in the men’s section. used to have rly long hair but then yg convinced her to chop it all off and she rly doesnt regret it. ppl think shes intimidating but shes actually rly shy and gay….. has had pink highlights…. probably has a lesbian flag button on her jean jacket 

anonymous asked:

Harry's got a backstage pass and Merlin wants to watch

“First left, second right,” Merlin says from the control room. “The pass code is 2-6-2-5.”

“Are you aware that spells ‘anal’?” Harry asks nonchalantly as he’s tapping the number keys on the door.

“Yes, far too well; just get on with it, please.”

Harry quietly lets himself into the room, then emits an entirely ridiculous groan of pleasure at the racks of costumes: feathers and sequins everywhere, towering platform boots, huge curly wigs.

“I’m trying every fucking thing on,” he says fiercely, fumbling to take off his jacket.

Merlin presses record on his screen and sits back for the show.

anonymous asked:

I had a totally random thought and wanted to know ur thoughts: what do u imagine happening canon had it been clarke that was the one shot and not lexa?

In a pure fantasyland, the world where Clarke is killed and Lexa goes full vengeance mode, terrible and terrifying, striking down everyone who had a hand in this, would have been amazing. Lexa covered in blood and warpaint, waging guerilla warfare, raising armies, hunting down every last one of her enemies. Storywise, there would be no plot or development or true resolution, but in terms of visuals and satisfying character porn? It would be awesome.

In a scenario where Clarke is shot and survives? Well for one, Lexa would have booted Titus off the tower without hesitation. Secondly, she would have called for some doctors, rather than dumping water on her wound and crying.

Then, imagine the way Clarke heals slowly, recuperating in Polis. Lexa doesn’t let anyone near her–after Titus’s betrayal, she gets protective. So Lexa is the one who cares for her and helps her heal. She draws her baths, washes her hair, brings her food, lounges with her reading, like the way they did in 306. She cleans her wound and lets Clarke dig her fingernails into Lexa’s skin to blunt the pain. One day, she enters the room and discovers Clarke struggling to change her own bandages, so she forces Clarke to sit still as she clumsily changes Clarke’s bandages, with hands of a warrior, not a healer, and Clarke coaches her through it. Lexa’s boundary around Arkadia stands and Clarke stays on the Polis side; when she’s questioned, Clarke declares that she’s not a sky person and Lexa glowers at anyone who would argue until they back out of the room. Eventually, the Sky People, starving, hand over Pike, Bellamy, and the others and agree to peace terms. All is well.

And none of it happened because Titus was a shitty shot and couldn’t hit Clarke the first time.

Until the End of the Line (Fred Weasley x Reader)

              Word Count: 1,000

a/n i suck so bad i’m sorry i’m a terrible person for 

          You and Fred were watching the battle rage on, and you looked at each other, smiles on your faces. There was nothing you’d rather be doing than protecting your home, and you knew that you would never make it out alive. At least you would spend the last time with Fred. “Hey Freddie.” You reached over and gave his hand a light squeeze, “you know I love you, right?”

               “I know.” He whispered, looking over at you. It was dark in the castle, and you both could hear the silence that came before a war. The tension was in the air, and the adrenaline was running through your veins.

               “What if we don’t make it?” You whispered, and he shook his head, looking forward again at the scene in front of him. Voldemort’s army was crashing through the barrier, and you could hear the faint shouting of soldiers from below.

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y̸̧͇͒͝o̸͙͚̔ú̶̪͎͐ ̵͈́͝ḃ̶̡̗ȇ̶͎͝l̶̛̳ǒ̸͔n̷͍̅͒g̷̥̃͘ ̶̘̝̀t̷̮̘̋o̶͍̼͌ ̴̭̉͠t̸̡̂h̷͚́͋e̷̫̾̈́ ̷͓͔̓s̸̳̹͐̆m̷̫̟͑i̷͚͠l̸̳̯͑e̶̛͈r̴̗͑

Frat Boy (Part 2)

Originally posted by frozen-delight

Summary: Dean and reader find out who wins their little bet…

Part 1

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 4,073

Warnings: language, smut

A/N: This series is so much fun to write…


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Ereri Smut

Levi takes his cock, stroking it as sweat beads across his temples. He kneels on his bed, ass raised high, shirtless and immensely hot. Hot from the summer weather, hot from training, hot for Eren Jeager.
During morning training, Eren was sweaty, chest bared, and muscles rippling. Since seeing those glorious biceps and pectorals in action, Levi’s erection has been begging for sweet release. A release he can’t seem to reach.
“Dammit,” he mutters, fisting the sheets. Levi attempts to recall this morning in further detail.

Blue shorts stopping mid-thigh. Oh, god. Eren’s thighs. Tan, immaculate. Defined, powerful. How Levi would love to be between those thighs, taking or tasting Eren. He wasn’t picky.
Teal eyes, crashing against their confines, like waves crashing against the cliffs. Levi would happily drown in Eren’s inner storm.
Plush, perfect lips; a few shades darker than his skin. What flavor are they? Levi wonders sometimes.
The hickory color of Eren’s hair and it’s lovely gleam. Appearing soft to the touch. Levi has dreamt of tangling his fingers in Eren’s locks, finally knowing its feel.
Everything about Eren is perfect. The man exists without a flaw. At least not one that Levi can find. Sure, he is impulsive and quick tempered, but he is also devoted and unmeasurably brave. Levi doesn’t overlook Eren’s quirks, instead he accepts them as part of the charm. That’s how love should be.

Levi still works at his swelling cock, a pain building inside him. He needs to cum, has to soon. “Suck my ass, Eren,” he spits then groans. “Dammit,” Levi barks, “suck my ass.”
Abruptly, the bedroom door creaks open. Eren stands in the entrance, an expression of disbelief heavy on his face. His wide gaze slowly relaxes as he shuts and locks the door behind him.
Levi is paralyzed, the echo of his drumming heart pounding in his ears. Awkward silence fills the room; it’s nearly unbearable.
Steadily, Eren makes his way to Levi, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “So,” Eren starts, “you want me to suck your ass?”
Levi snaps, “No.”
Eren’s expression darkens. “Don’t lie. I know you want me.” Eren slips his fingers underneath the hem of Levi’s loose jeans.
“Eren, what are you-” Levi moans as Eren squeezes his succulent ass. The brunet tugs Levi’s jeans down, down, down. He kisses the pale skin here and there, then drags his tongue along the crevice of Levi’s ass.
Eren firmly holds Levi cheeks, spreading him. Levi attempts to rise. “You don’t have to,” he mutters.
“But I want you.” Eren inserts his tongue, flicking it in and out, laving the sheath. His lips worship everything they meet. A hand finds Levi’s shaft and begins working it, slowly at first, but gradually faster… faster.

Levi gasps, spasms, his muscles clenching and then relaxing in a wonderful burning sensation. He pants heavily, unable to utter anything more than a single word. “Eren,” a plead. “More.” The tip of his erection is so swollen, ready to burst, but Levi knows it’ll take more than Eren’s intoxicating tongue to sate him. He needs his cock too. Wants Eren’s cock inside him, surging in and pulling out. Feel Eren’s testicles slap against him.
The point of Eren’s tongue suddenly caresses Levi’s sweet spot. His inner walls tighten around Eren as he searches for air. Wickedly, Eren asks, “Like?”
“Love,” Levi rasps. “Again… Please.”
Eren relentlessly strokes the sanctified flesh, enjoying the sensation of Levi’s tremors echoing through him. Oh, lord. Maybe he could cum without Eren’s dick stretching his naughty hole.
"Levi,” Eren purrs, “let me taste you.” Levi bites his lip, taking in a sharp breath. “You are.”
“No… I mean taste your cock.”
For a moment, heavy breaths are the only sound. Abruptly, Levi cranes his neck. "Do it, Eren. Suck me off.”
Eren climbs further onto the bed, removing his jacket and kicking off his boots. He towers over Levi, his mischievous grin still in place and bedroom eyes becoming more lustful. Levi pops open the buttons of Eren’s shirt. His fingers trail along the tan, sculpted abdomen and then begin unfastening Eren’s jeans.
He stops Levi’s hand, gently kissing the palm. “There’ll be time for that later.” The brunet leans in, lips grazing the rim of Levi’s ear. “Right now it’s all about you,” he seductively whispers. He runs his tongue over the area before bringing himself to Levi’s rising shaft.
Levi grips the sheets tighter, his knuckles turning white, as Eren glides his tongue up Levi’s cock. He moans. Eren’s lips surround the tip, his hot tongue strokes it. Up, down, up he works, all the way to the hilt. He cups Levi’s testicles, massaging them. Again, Eren flicks his tongue over the swollen head. Sucking. Scraping with his teeth. Oh, yes. No need for penetration.
“I’m going to— Eren!” Levi roars his name, the climax ripping through him, shooting his hot seed into Eren’s mouth.
Eren swallows every drop and even licks the last little bit away, instinctively knowing that would please Levi. As Eren sits up, Levi continues to spasm in pleasure, even though he is spent. His eyes are closed, his mouth open in wonderment. The sight an erotic feast for Eren’s lust filled eyes.
The brunet rubs his erection against Levi, licking his lips. “Now,” he begins, sliding Levi’s hand into the crotch of his open jeans, “it’s my turn.”

Exhilaration- Ryoumarx

A sort of sinful fic that was heavily inspired by this lovely fanart. (they are the best ryoumarx artist go follow them)


Ryoma would never understand how Nohrians could wear such tight clothing, and so much of it, too. 

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anonymous asked:

Hi, could you do 77. "It's a Texas thing" and 83. "Enough with the sass", with Steve please, and I love your writing by the way!

Drabble Challenge # 1 from these prompts

A/N: This was kind of a challenge for me since I know absolutely nothing about Texas and didn’t want to stereotype! I hope you enjoy this anyway. <3 

Characters: (Texan) reader x Steve

Genres: slightly jealous Steve, fluff

It was another one of Tony’s outrageous parties. The entire world, it seemed, had been invited. You sat next to Steve at the bar, sipping a martini as he was surrounded by a crowd of people. You rolled your eyes. He was chugging straight vodka, and the crowd was egging him on, not seeming to realize that with his super-soldier metabolism he couldn’t actually get drunk. You were never really one for these parties, and preferred only to go when you actually went with people you knew. Which, this night, was supposed to be your boyfriend. But he seemed pretty occupied at the moment.

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Vainglorious

CPWeek2K16: Day 8

Gold or Anything goes!

An AU in which Laurent is the owner of a small but highly exclusive fashion label, and Damen is a cage fighter who’s been forced out of the ring and into a bodyguard position by an injury. I really hope to make this into a thing one day. It needs to be a thing.


 When the door to the studio clicked shut, Laurent was immediately slipping out of his jacket, watching Damen do the same before he crossed to the far wall, palms pressed flat against the ceiling-tall mirror there. Glancing over his shoulder with kohl-rimmed sapphire eyes, he said, “Attend me.”

 "Attend you?“

 Laurent met Damen’s eyes in the mirror, a bit irritated to see him smiling, a crooked, precious thing. "Did I stutter?” The smoke of the club was still present in his voice.

 That bemused little smile remained, and Damen stepped forward, hands lifting to the delicate lacing at the back of the corset the smaller man wore. Carefully working the knot at the top of the corset open, Damen said, “I don’t see why you insist on wearing this thing. Your waist is pretty small already.”

 "Have you been looking?“ Now it was Laurent smirking, and when Damen gave no reply to the jibe, he explained, "It’s part of the aesthetic.”

 "Same as those boots?“ Damen asked, sparing a glance down at the utterly ridiculous, utterly lovely boots Laurent was wearing. They were made of soft, worn leather, coming to just above the knee, where Laurent’s trousers tucked into them. It looked slightly army-chic, save the boots’ slender, towering heels. Laurent was almost eye-level with him with those boots on. "How do you even walk in those?”

 Laurent’s pretty eyes rolled at that, and he muttered, “Practice, obviously.”

 Carefully, Damen slid his hands beneath the panels of the corset, gently pulling it further open. Casually, he asked, “Don’t those qualify as fuck-me boots?”

 There was a long pause before Laurent gave a soft huff of laughter as he admitted, “I’ve only ever heard Vannes call them that.”

 "But that’s what they are.“

 Another pause, and Laurent murmured, "I suppose so.”

 "Why would you wear such a thing?“ Damen asked, easing a string out through its assigned eyelet. "You aren’t even interested in sex, are you?”

 Laurent’s voice was still soft when he replied, “I can be, if I find someone interesting.”

 "Oh?“ When Damen glanced up to catch Laurent’s eyes in the mirror again, they were dark, hooded. "Is that right?” Laurent’s responding smirk sent a shiver racing its way down his spine, and he looked away, lowering his head to hide the shadows in his own eyes.

anonymous asked:

Shizuo, Izaya, & Mikado's reaction to their s/o being a whole lot shorter than them

Heiwajima Shizuo:

“Never realized you were this short.”

“Goddammit.”

He looks down at his significant other, hands in his pockets and sunglasses hanging off his vest. There’s never been a time where he doesn’t cherish each second he gets to look at his lover, but now that he’s standing in close proximity towards them and having to actually crane his neck downwards to get a good look at their face - 

“Really short.”

“Stop.”

But it’s not him who’s craning necks too, they’re doing the same thing - save for instead of looking down they’re looking up. A fair deal, he supposes, closing his eyes for a moment. 

A split-second decision has been made and then his hands wrap around their wast, chin in their hair.

“Shizuo - ?!”

“..Sorry,” he mumbles, but he has no intention to move or pull away.

“It’s just really comfortable - your hair, I mean.”

Orihara Izaya:

He doesn’t even need to wear those high heeled boots to tower over them.

With a smirk settled on his face, Izaya slouches slightly and makes his way towards his significant other, hopping the last few steps.

“What’s up?”

Immediately, they turn to look at him - puzzlement obvious on their face. 

“What did you just - “

And then, Izaya straightens his back and he can’t help but grin. 

“Fuuuuck.”

Raising an eyebrow, Izaya’s smirk stays perfectly the same as he tilts his head to the side and inspects his significant other’s face. His coat is fluttering annoyingly in the wind and his hands are on his hips like he’s won a competition - smugness radiating from both his appearance and voice as he finally speaks again.

“Shorty-kun.”

-

 (( shortest s/o coming up next, tbh. )) 

Mikado Ryugamine:

“A - Ah, hello!”

Mikado is formal, bowing and trying to calm his beating heart that’s in a sudden frenzy. Taking deep breaths do not help however, and although he expects to see the grey painted sidewalk when he bows, all he gets is his s/o’s neck - or face? - as they straighten their back.

“Mikado-kun?”

His face is flushed and there’s honestly no way to look, other than behind him if he wants to rid himself of the blush. Why - oh, even if he bows and his breath hitches and his eyes shut, he can still feel the gaze of them and if he dares to peek he’ll be seeing their chin, and, and -

“..Mikado-kun, are you okay?”

“Y - Yes!”

Embarrassment comes in waves and he takes a deep breath as he smiles cheekily, laughing nervously before petting them on the head.

“Let’s.. Let’s just.. Head to the park now…?”

“Okay!”