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#vinyl football jersey

dabisbratz · 1 year

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can we cam up? eren yeager x male reader

w.c: 4.3k

genitalia terms: dick, cock, hole, fuckhole, cunt (1 time), pussy (1 time)

WARNING: spit, blowjob, rimming, anal (obvi), creampie, dirty talk, humiliation, filming, degradation, humiliation, nerd!eren, jock!reader, intoxication, may read kinda dubious but it’s 100% consensual, light d/s dynamic, alcohol, weed mention, dumbification, eren compares you to a hentai character one (1) time bc he’s deranged

a/n: i was kicking my feet twirling my locs screaming into my pillow writing this and it shows. also eren has a BIIIIG phat crush on you but i didn’t wanna get too into it… you definitely remember him, probably even sexted him w/o even knowing it was him

Let’s get one thing straight: You're not an arrogant man. Not at all— in fact, you’d consider yourself to be quite humble. This night may be about you and your winning score, but you’re humble about it. Considerate, even. So you feel no guilt when you accidentally spill alcohol on someone’s shirt, explaining that if they can somehow find you on instagram and send a DM, you’ll pay for the laundry and potential damages. The stranger peers at you with a funny glint in his green eyes as his hands pull the wet fabric apart from his skin, his glasses falling down the arched bridge of his nose.

You shrug and wave to your teammates, your football jersey loose on your form as you make way through the frat house’s large interior. Music blares in your ears for the millionth time tonight, the bass rattling your skeletal system with each increasingly tipsy step you take. Grinding, flushed bodies invade your vision, all around you as you shimmy through the sea of bodies to pour yourself another generous shot. Cool, blue rays of strobe lights dance and flicker across your eyelids. Warm, pink rays that caress your cheek like the confines of your safety helmet, the vinyl of your mouth guards. It overwhelmed you at first, so bright and unapologetic as your eyes adjusted and focused.

Somewhere beneath the tranquil hum of alcohol flowing through your veins you can feel your phone buzz in your pocket, rippling through your skin and sobering you up just a little.

Your girlfriend.

She’d been blowing up your phone all night, something along the lines of forgetting her gift for your anniversary— what was a few weeks, anyway? — and how ungrateful you were for yours. She was a good lay, a quick way to resort to getting your dick wet on particularly lonely nights; when you couldn’t stand the sound of silence dancing around your head. But that was all.

You shake the thought of her squawking voice the second you find Connie, surrounded by sorority girls with glossed lips and pink-tinted eyes. Finding solstice in his company, they’re huddled relatively close, knit together in some sort of baked clique. He’s perched over a bong, lighter in hand as he inhales the fumes with muffled haste. Pothead.

Your hand finds the crown of his head, palm nestled in the bristles of his buzz cut. Noone is allowed to touch Connie’s hair, at least not when he’s coherent enough to stop them. It usually ends in flying fists and bruised cheekbones, but all the man sends your way is a hazy glare. Someone punching the university’s all star just isn’t a good look. Especially when he’s pretty and popular with the public.

“Do that again and I’ll throw this bong at your head.” It’s an empty threat, clear of malice and slurred on Connie’s bitten lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” You steal the smoke exuding from his mouth, swishing the fog in your mouth a few times before blowing it back into his face. “Never again. Scouts honor.”

You shoot back up, mind reeling and posture straightening as a particularly pretty cheerleader hands you a bottle of something you can’t quite make out. It’s brown and rich though, smacking against the glass as you take a swig and chase it down with Connie’s leftover beer of all things.

One thing leads to another and suddenly you’re trapped between sobriety and full on plastered drunk. You remember chugging something sickeningly sweet, despite it leaving a harsh burn in the back of your throat as you took in a deep breath of victory. There were many eyes on you, loud cheers reverberating off the walls as you’re hoisted into the air for your skillful performance and high-fived by your frat brothers. But there are those green eyes again, staring straight through you with a look you can’t quite place.

Not that you can place much. You’re shitfaced.

He smells good, you later discover. There’s a strum of wind as he pushes forward and straight by you, weaving through the crowd like he’s invisible. The swaying of bodies— the sight is still so freshly imprinted in his brain, and it makes his head swim while liquor glides across his tongue, clumsy and inexperienced. He must not get invited to parties often. Or maybe he does, and you’ve just never noticed him.

He’s quite nerdy, some sort of graphic design on his stained shirt that resembles that of a video game or cartoon logo, and a poor excuse of a beard litters his chiseled jaw. And oddly handsome, pale face flushed from the alcohol, pink and pooling at the apples of his cheeks as he stares at you expectantly. But you’re not into men, and all the shots in the world couldn’t get you to even think of advancing with one. He quirks his thick brow in passing, settling back into his seat with a depleting mumble you can’t make out under the loud music.

But the alcohol paired with the sultry music-choice is doing things to you, you can’t help but stare longer than you should when he swallows down his adams apple, throat bobbing as he downs a fruity drink. His tongue darts over his lips, quick and steady as he nods along to the bass. You’re thinking with your dick, pushing past the batting lashes of cheerleaders and curvy bodies of sorority girls until you’re uncomfortably close to the guy who won’t stop looking at you.

“Do you- do you have a staring problem?” You ask, a slight slur to your voice as your face leans in close enough to count the nerd’s lashes individually.

Just to reiterate, you’re not arrogant. In the slightest.

He jumps back in response to the evasive question, strands of hair falling over his glasses as his emerald eyes roam your face. The lines are blurring now, his nerdy, almost irritating face looks kissable and inviting— his parted lips look warm and skilled. You can smell the pineapple on his tongue, sweet and citrusy.

“You heard me,” You hiccup straight into his face, watching his gorgeous features distort into something not even remotely akin to disgust, which makes confusion rack your brain. “Do you talk, or what?”

Your tongue is sharp, much to Eren’s chagrin. You’re too pretty to talk to people like that, especially him. He may look the way he does, but that doesn’t mean you can talk to him like that. It’s not like he can’t recognize a brat when he sees one. Usually, you’re a bubbly team player— everyone likes you, even if they say they don’t. Still, he shakes his head, humoring your drunken irritation. He understands, at least a bit, as he has a natural temper of his own.

Truthfully, Eren has been keeping his eyes on you for the past millennia. It started when he accidentally walked in on your practice, a sunny day that simply got brighter when he saw your face, cheerful and bright as you joked along with your teammates— Jean, Reiner, Levi? Was it? It didn’t matter, his focus was on you.

You and your sinfully tight compression shorts. You and your hands that curl into fists as you grasp at his sheets like a lifeline, as if holding them tight will somehow keep him inside of you, right where he belongs.

You and your stupid football that’d smacked him right in the face at full speed. But it was in his favor, you came running over apologetically as he rubbed away the blooming bruise. Your voice was sweet then, a melodic chirp that he couldn’t stop thinking about since then. He wants to hear it break.

It seems you too always meet at the expense of his dignity. But not tonight.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Eren grunts, sliding his glasses back up his nose and turning his head away. His glasses are fogged up, but it might just be saving his pride. He’d rather not get hard in front of the person he’s been fantasizing about for the past few months, not when you clearly had no recollection of him. He doesn’t blame you. “My bad. I’m not, yknow, stalking you or anything.”

“Oh, because staring for hours and stalking are very different things,” You’re staring at his lips now, ignoring the vibration in your hand. The second your phone screen lights up you slam it face-down into your front pocket. There isn’t an ounce of remorse in his voice, like his response is calculated and open-ended. “What if I like that?”

Your eyebrows wiggle, even with the mind splitting sensation of your brain beating against your skull. Almost as hard as your heart hammering in your chest. Eren’s scoff is barely audible over the music, but the comment has his heart racing.

You pull him in by the collar of his t-shirt, fists bunched up in the dark fabric as your lips press against his. It’s feverish and sloppy, your teeth occasionally grazing his own. His mouth is hot and wet, fruity essence on his tongue as it slips past your lips and into your mouth. You’ve never had a kiss feel this good. He nips at your bottom lip, pearly teeth digging into the skin until he feels you make an embarrassingly high pitched noise in your throat.

There’s a twinkle in his teal eyes as his posture straightens, slowly leaning back to catch a breath of fresh air (as fresh as it can get, anyway). You watch him readjust his position, lifting his hips instead of his actual body, practically rutting into the thickening air as he shifts. His bubblegum lips curl into a lazy smile as his fingertips circle the rim of the red solo-cup he’s been drinking from. “What if I like you?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Your phone just doesn’t shut up, does it?” There’s clear agitation in his voice, his arched eyebrows furrowed as your feet carry you somewhere much more secluded. Eren trails behind you, his eyes glued on the mound of your ass as you walk. He has to help you occasionally, without even knowing the layout of the place, just so you don’t fall over. The light shine of your phone screen emits across your hip, and he can see the contact of whoever it is that’s so deeply desperate for your attention.

Too bad it’s all on him.

“I’m a pop— popular man.” You finally respond, shutting the door behind you to what Eren assumes is your bedroom in the frat house. It’s between two other bedrooms and across from three more, with a sizable closet that holds more trophies than clothing.

“Can see why, pretty mouth like that,” The words slip before he can think, but it’s worth it to see the way you oh, so conveniently hiccup in response. The implication of you being some type of campus whore makes your throat feel tight, and you can’t help but twitch in your tight pants. “Talks a lot of shit, though.”

“You talk too much.” Correction: he doesn’t talk enough. But you shut him up with a kiss anyway, hungry and frantic because whatever this is, whatever you feel when you look at him, you don’t want it to end. His hands travel under your shirt, cold from his previous icy drinks, and you squirm under his palms. He spreads goosebumps across your skin, and when his fingers brush the bud of your nipples you can’t help but jolt where you stand.

A malicious grin snakes across Eren’s face, all teeth and predatory as he runs his tongue over his sharp canine teeth. “Been thinking about fucking you for weeks. The whole time we were talking, all I could think about was shoving you down on my dick.”

Oh. Your cock aches at that, which is almost already too much for you, you’ve never done this before. Not with a man, not with someone who looks at you like they’re going to devour you whole. You swallow hard, alcohol dispelling from your body the more blood rushes south, and suddenly you’re on your knees, unbuttoning Eren’s jeans with trembling hands.

The door locks behind you, a small click that only the two of you can hear. You look back up at the nerd, who’s watching you intently with a smirk.

He’s a complete juxtaposition to his appearance— if you were a bad man you’d call him a loser, but he exudes dominance and power. You want to wiggle under his gaze, shifting your weight between knees. Eren’s large hands cradle your face, oddly tender and affectionate as he rubs your cheekbones, slowly sliding them to the sides of your head. He lifts your gaze, forcing eye contact.

His glasses hang low on his nose, clouded from his breath as he lets out a satisfied sigh. You want to pull on his hair, flyaways barely reaching the base of his neck as the rest remains in a ponytail.

“This okay?” His tone is beyond sincere.

“Yeah,” You breathe, momentarily losing yourself in the forest of his irises. Blinking rapidly, Eren removes his hands from your head to free himself from his jeans, his long cock decorated in a small vein that disappears below his head. It’s pretty, arched against his stomach and dripping onto his shirt. The leaking precum makes you wonder how long he’s been hard. “Yeah. This is—this is more than okay.”

“Open,” It’s more of a command than anything, Eren’s very hands on, his fingers slipping into your mouth to pull at the corners of your mouth. Your tongue covers your teeth, your mouth watering as his salty fingertips graze your tongue. His other hand is busy working at the head of his cock, twisting smooth circles over the slit until it crashes down against your tongue. Again, and again, and again. “Good boy.”

You find yourself drooling on your jersey, sucking in a deep breath through your nose as his tip rests on your tongue. He goes slow at first, letting you suck on the tip while his fist roams his shaft. You’re a big boy, he knows you can handle much more than just the head— even if he is thick. Your eyes water immediately, gagging instinctually as he shoves his dick deeper into your mouth. “Say thank you.”

Before you can pull away with an answer, both hands return to the back of your head, holding you in place. He encourages you to breathe through your nose, cooing at your inexperienced efforts to catch the drool escaping your mouth, and even goes as far as to wipe one of your tears, “Gonna thank me? F’letting you be such a good, warm n’ wet hole for me?”

You feel yourself nodding, blinking hazily as he rocks in and out of your mouth. There’s a sound you don’t recognize coming from your throat, squelching and soaked, and it has you whimpering on the mouthful of cock. You don’t mean to make such a pitiful noise, but it feels so good, letting yourself go a little brainless over a cute boy.

You slurp loudly— not on purpose, but it earns a throaty chuckle from the man above you. He pulls out to let you breathe, his cock slowly sliding up your throat and past your lips until all you can do is whine and lean forward, lips wet with spit. The tears in your eyes spill unabashedly, your face nearly crashing against his dick.

“Thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

You want to groan, to bang your fists against the wall because he’s being so mean. He knows what you mean, you know what you mean. Regardless, still focused on his cock just inches away from your face, you moan against nothing. It’s a light noise, breathy and quiet but effective enough to make his cock jump. “Please, please— I mean- fuck, thank you for letting me be…yours.”

Eren tuts, feigning annoyance as he grips your chin between his fingers, digging into the soft skin so you’re actually focused on his face. You smile into his palm, eyelashes batting against your cheek and he just can’t help but spit onto your cheek.

“What, d’you just go dumb the second you see some dick?”

You’re barely listening, instead grinding against the fabric of your jeans because his touch treatment has you feeling some kind of way. “Does your girlfriend know her boyfriend’s a cockslut too? Does she know other boys spend their nights getting your holes wet, fuckin’ you in the same bed?”

It’s much easier to hear the vibrations in your pocket now that you’re alone, the only barrier between you being the muffled music on the other side of the door. Eren’s hand leaves your jaw, and you have no complaints when he helps you to remove your jeans.

The jersey can stay on, though. He wants to fuck you in it.

He pushes you into your bed, watching you bounce in the mattress in nothing but your jersey, and helps himself into solely his birthday suit. You’re just as exposed, seemingly moreso, as he pulls your bottom half into his lap. It’s an odd position, not anything you’re used to, maybe your exes and past hookups— but never you.

Eren hunches over, his breath tantalizingly close to your hole. First, he licks a fat stripe across the surface, holding your thighs open when they threaten to instinctively close. You can’t prop yourself up on your elbows at this angle, your feet dangling over his shoulders while he holds you up. The nerd is stronger than he looks.

His tongue is hot and wet, and you feel yourself clenching when a glob of spit lands on your hole. He massages it in with his ring and middle finger, and your body finds itself squirming against his touch. You expect fingers, one at first, maybe, then another. But instead he uses his tongue, lets it dip inside and lap at your insides. Eren looks hungry, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he spreads you open and holds you there with an iron grip. A punched-out “Eren!” leaves your lips the second his tongue is lapping you up, leaving tingles up your spine and smog in your brain.

He kneads his fingers into the fat of your thighs, nipping occasionally where your skin folds into your ass, just to get another choked whine out of you. And, oh, you whine. The intrusion isn’t unwelcome, in fact, the feeling of Eren’s face slick with his spit as he tries to get his tongue as deep as he can into you makes your toes curl. You fist your bedsheets, finding comfort in the pillows you’re pressed into, and go as far as to hold yourself open for the man while he goes to grab something.

“Oh, baby. You shouldn’t have,” You shiver at the sound of his dark chuckle, and squeal when his ring finger finds a spot next to his tongue. “Look at that. Hole’s leaking. You just sit here and look pretty while I fuck it on my tongue, hm? Think you can do that?”

“Mhmmm, mhm, yeah! I can— I can do that, ‘Ren.” You sound like a bitch, with your nose buried in your pillow as you moan with every brush to that special spot inside of you. Your cock jumps against your stomach, leaking into your belly button and down your chest. Your jersey is ruined, but so are you, especially when Eren rubs your cock once, twice—

Holy shit. You’re cumming.

“That’s it, come on, give it to me.” Your jersey catches it all, right over your reserved number and embroidered nameplate. Your brain is too fried for you to care, tears streaming down your face as your hole flutters on his tongue and fingers. Sensitive now, moreso than you were before, you whimper and shimmy in Eren’s lap, simultaneously moving toward and away from his touch. He keeps you where you are though, staring at your blissed out face through clouded glasses and licking his lips like he’s just finished eating the best meal he’s ever had. And as if that’s not enough to have you cumming again already, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your puffy hole just for good measure.

“You felt so soft on my tongue, fuck, I almost busted right on you,” His cheeks are pink, and the rosy shade blooms down his neck and disappears into his chest. He pulls you forward by your wrist, sucking on your tongue and licking over your lips so you can taste yourself. He’s gonna be the death of you.“Bet this hole’s gonna be even softer. Nice and warm while you take my cock. Gonna let me cum inside? Pump that soft cunt full until it’s all creamy and used?”

He’s so filthy, so unashamed. The nickname doesn’t go unheard, and despite the slutty moan that you let out in response, part of you wants to pinch him just for that. Damn Eren and his shameless mouth! But you nod anyway, an everlasting stream of ‘yesyesyes’ floating in the air as he lines himself up to finally give you what you’ve been gagging for so prettily.

Eren just can’t help himself. Not when you’re folded up and presenting yourself to him like this. Not when your eyes are wide and your lips are parted and you’re letting out such pretty sounds. Sounds that belong to him. Plus it’s not all on him, you’re the one with an unlocked phone. You’re the one with space in your camera roll.

He’s sure the camera is shaky, maybe even a little blurry, but he makes sure to get your face in it, fucked-out and crosseyed as he pounds his dick into you, keeps you steady with his hand on your jaw. A string of precum connects you together, pooling at your ass and Eren’s thighs as his hips crash down, yours convulsing upward to meet him halfway. It’s a bit half-assed on your part, but who’s gonna blame the guy getting fucked stupid?

“‘Ren, you’re,” You sob in disbelief, eyes rolling along with your hips. “You’re— ohh, you’re fuckin’ me.”

He smiles down at you, feral and heated as he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his balls slapping against the curve of your ass. He never seems to stop, always chasing that feeling of you clamping down on him even when you’re almost too sensitive to take it. “That’s right, I’m fuckin’ you. Just how you like it, hm? Right in your fuckhole. S’what it’s there for, right?”

“That’s—“ Absurd? Vulgar? Objectification? It’s hot. It’s hot and you know it, Eren knows it, and your dick sure as hell knows it too because you can feel your next orgasm coming. “Yeah. N’my fuckhole.”

He makes a pleased sound in response, groans and pants joining your moans when he speeds up, his slow and deep strokes becoming fast and hollow, pounding that sensitive spot deep inside you over and over and over. “Should train you to take this dick.”

“Hold on,” Despite looking straight at him you can’t understand what he’s saying, not until his glasses are placed over your eyes and you’re blinking away the prescription blur. You struggle to collect yourself, wailing as you reach for his free hand that begins to nestle between your jawline and your neck. He squeezes affectionately, lets you cry and arch on his cock while he breathlessly sighs, “You look straight outta my favorite hentai.”

And, technically, you’re making a sextape now. A tape that showcases closeups of his cock disappearing deep inside you, pummeling your puffy hole until it carves the shape of his dick into you. Until only Eren can fit, big and thick and unbelievably deep. A tape that has you, a popular and well-known straight jock, crying on the dick of a guy you just met.

“Eren, m’gonna… ‘Ren—” You may as well scream, your body tensing as you spray across your chest — when did your jersey get bunched up enough to expose you like that? — sticky cum shooting out your spent cock until you’re twitching, handsfree and body ablaze. He doesn’t let up, castelon eyes narrowed as he fucks you through it, watching more cum squirt from your cock, milking himself for all he’s worth. “Inside, wanna be full, I deserve it, please, Rennie.”

He bounces you a few times, watching you fall back onto his cock until he feels himself aching hard, hard enough to start cumming inside you. It’s the nickname that gets him, groaning loud as he pumps a load inside you. It’s messy, and downright pornographic watching his cum leak out of you, just for him to fuck it back in with the head of his dick. It’s clear you feel proud of yourself for making him tremble inside you, and Eren takes the opportunity to scrapbook the memory.

“C’mere,” He’s not asking, simply pulling you closer to the camera so it can focus on your cum-stained face. “Smile for me, baby. Tell your ‘girlfriend’ how much you like it in your pussy too.”

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emwritesfootball · 11 months

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Jersey Jealousy | Benjamin Pavard

smut with Benjamin Pavard where he becomes jealous when he sees you wearing a jersey of his teammates

Warnings: Spanking, fingering, blow job, begging

- - -

You walked into the Stade de France, the ‘Mbappé 10’ burning a hole in your back. It wasn’t like you’d necessarily chosen to wear this kit - the product of being the loser of your friend group’s fantasy football competition last season. When the punishment had been made, you had cackled at the thought of one of your friends wearing a kit that wasn’t their boyfriend’s to a match, but your cockiness had gotten the better of you and now you were paying for it.

You watched as Benjamin warmed up with the rest of the team but you couldn’t help noticing Kylian who caught your eye and gave you a knowing wink. You responded with an eye roll and a rather rude hand gesture that had him laughing. This, of course, alerted Benjamin, who looked over and narrowed his eyes as he looked from you to Kylian. You blew Benjamin a kiss, hoping to smooth things over with your boyfriend.

“What was that all about?” Benjamin asked before making his way into the tunnels, giving you a hug.

“Nothing, just lost a bet.” You could feel his hands on your back, touching the vinyl letters and numbers printed on the jersey you were sporting that definitely didn’t spell ‘Pavard 2’.

“A bet, huh? Turn around.” When you didn’t comply, Benjamin turned you himself, letting out a curse in French when he read the back. “Some bet, chérie.”

Your stomach dipped at the promise in his voice. Benjamin didn’t get jealous easily, but you had never shown up a match not wearing his kit before, so you didn’t know what to expect.

He was gone before you could say anything, not giving you his usual quick kiss for good luck. You watched the match with bated breath, cheering harder for your boyfriend than you ever had. The only time you slipped up was when he assisted Kylian on a goal and you couldn’t help shouting for the striker as he celebrated the goal.

“I saw you cheering for Kylian,” Benjamin whispered in your ear after the match. France won, another of many in their collection of wins on the road to the next Euro Cup.

“He scored a goal.”

“I assisted.”

“I’ll see you at home.” Benjamin stood back, his eyes raking over the kit. “Keep that kit on.”

You sat on the sofa waiting for Benjamin to arrive, nervous and playing with the hem of the kit, hoping you weren’t in too much trouble.

The sound of keys in the door made you jump, and you raced to the door to greet Benjamin. You threw your arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his skin.

“You still wearing Kylian’s kit?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good.”

Benjamin took your wrist and walked you back over to the sofa, sitting down and quickly tugging you over his knees. He hiked the kit up to expose your ass, and you couldn’t help letting out a whimper as his hand connected with your skin. “What’s the number on the back of this kit?”

“Ten.”

“Count.”

You counted each smack until you hit ten and then Benjamin’s fingers found their way between your legs, his thumb brushing over your perineum before pressing against your asshole. His middle finger slipped into your pussy as his other hand gently rubbed circles over your stinging ass. “Good girl.”

“Please, Benjamin.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me.”

The second the words left your mouth, Benjamin took his fingers out of your pussy. He made you suck your juices off his fingers.

“Maybe later. On your knees.”

You did as he ordered, watching as he freed his cock and started to stroke it while holding eye contact with you. When you finally got your mouth on his cock, you sucked him off until he came down your throat, hoping that by doing a good job, he would give you the reward of an orgasm.

“If you want your own, you’re going to have to work for it,” Benjamin said, reaching down and slipping two fingers inside of you. You were still kneeling at his feet, your ass brushing against the carpet as you tried to ride his fingers.

“Who do you belong to?”

“Y-You.” You gripped his wrist, holding his fingers in place so you could rub your clit on his palm.

“Not Kylian?”

“No. Not Kylian. Only you.”

“Take off the kit and you can cum.”

You took off the kit so Benjamin could ogle your breasts as you rode his fingers until you came.

“Good girl. If you ever wear another player’s kit in the stadium, I’ll have you like this in front of the team.”

#benjamin pavard x reader #benjamin pavard x you #benjamin pavard smut #benjamin pavard imagines #benjamin pavard imagine #benjamin pavard blurbs #benjamin pavard blurb #benjamin pavard oneshot #benjamin pavard one shot

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ronsenthal · 4 months

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💐 once you receive this lovely bouquet of flowers you have to mention five things you love, publicly, and send it to 10 of your favorite followers if you want. SPREAD POSITIVITY! ⛅️

Schatziiii thank you so much for sending me this, you know how much your opinion means to me so I really appreciate it

Five things I love:

my cats

my books

my football jerseys collection

wearing beanies or caps

old vinyls

#asks #a little bit of jessica #sweetxvanixlla

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firesnap · 1 year

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okay but oasis is the funnier band. theyre funny bc a clip of liam and noel fighting literally charted in england. you cant beat that

Oh Oasis is funny in a trainwreck way. Liam is just such an unpleasant person that it takes some of the punch away.

But I definitely know about that single.

How would you react to learning I have a vast collection of britpop memorabilia in my basement despite not being in the right country or even old enough to have been listening to music when those bands were at their height? And that collection includes not only the vinyl release of that interview (wibbling rivalry) but also a Blur football jersey from a charity match in 1995 and a signed CD of Pulp's Different Class. I also have a plastic bin of paper copies of NME/Q/Mojo featuring various Britpop interviews, original VHS copies of Blur's 1992 concert documentary, a dvd with Oasis appearing on MTV unplugged and various bands on 120 Minutes and a pack of cigarettes signed by the lead singer of Elastica.

And a whole other bin of rare Blur memorabilia from Japan including VHS tapes, live recordings, magazines, posters and stickers.

I'm still in music memorabilia groups just to keep an eye out for stuff.

I don't even own a VHS player. I don't even think I own a way to play CDs at this point.

But I still collect. To this day.

I've gone on a tangent about my special interest sorry

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theseancekid · 2 years

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SPECIFIC HEADCANONS

WHAT THEY SMELL LIKE : klaus, unfortunately.....doesn’t have a very pleasant scent. he LOVES taking long baths, and will often go home with people just to take advantage of their bed and shower, but even when he does have access to showers, he rarely washes his actual clothes, which is where most of the odors come from. He basically smells like a walking cigarette, which is honestly fine because the smell of smoke mostly masks the smell of vomit (and other bodily fluids) that will also cling to his old coat. if he’s feeling special, he’ll spritz on some perfume (usually stolen from whoever he’s currently hooking up with) but yeah unfortunately he’s a bit smelly :/

HOW THEY SLEEP ( POSITION , SCHEDULE , ETC. ) : he really has a hard time sleeping, i’ll tell you that much. having spent most of his life homeless, he’s used to sleeping in small spurts, and waking up at the slightest noise. that being said, he often tries to avoid sleep altogether because his night terrors are so bad. from the ages of 13-29 he relied on drugs to both keep him awake, and to fuck him up so much he just passed out. and then when he does eventually get sober, he suffers both from ghostly visions and from severe ptsd from his time at war.

SO this is all to say that basically the only time klaus gets any rest is when he ends up taking random power naps in random places throughout the house. on the sofa. under the kitchen counter. in the bathtub. grace’s corner. inside the linen closet. the bottom of the staircase. you name it, klaus has probably napped there LOL

WHAT MUSIC THEY ENJOY : Klaus is one of those people who says he listens to everything and means it. Pop, folk, punk, country, disco, european, new wave, classic rock, grunge, metal, bluegrass....he loves it all. (grunge and oldies are his favorites though)

HOW MUCH TIME THEY SPEND GETTING READY IN THE MORNING : either 0 seconds or 2 hours. no in-between. some days he rolls out of bed and just gets going (again, he’s used to living without shelter so...some of his habits are informed by that), but other mornings he wakes up and can’t decide what flavor of Gender he wants for the day so will try on approximately 20 outfits and still end up wearing his same old pleather jeans and fur coat. there have been many mornings where was rumored out of the bathroom by allison lmfao

FAVORITE THING TO COLLECT : I actually think he has a fun time collecting hospital tags from all the clinics he’s been to. He kinda thinks of them as trophies to signify his survival. But outside of that, he’s got a killer vinyl collection in his room!

LEFT OR RIGHT HANDED : he’s part of the lefty club, baby! he’s completely left-handed

FAVORITE SPORT(S) : he’d rather die than be caught caring about any sport team. But as a kid, he played football and soccer with Diego a lot. As an adult, he’s more into yoga. He likes to support whatever teams his boyfriends follow, but that mostly involves him buying jerseys and merch only to try and make them look as Slutty as humanly possible. dave has absolutely come home to find klaus in a dallas cowboys cheerleader getup.

FAVORITE KIND OF WEATHER : stormy, but only when he’s inside. otherwise he actually loves to soak up the sun. he always runs cold (re: his constant proximity to death) so he’s like a lizard, he likes to bask in the heat when he can.

WEIRD/OBSCURE FEAR THEY HAVE : i think klaus is afraid of a lot of random shit as a result of all the Bad Trips he’s had LMAO like i can totally see dave offering him a pickle or something and klaus just Shudders and looks off into the distance with a cringe on his face asdfghjskndfv

THE CARNIVAL/ARCADE GAME THEY ALWAYS WIN WITHOUT FAIL : see the thing about klaus is that he’s awful at all the carnival games because he has the hand-eye coordination of a drunken giraffe, but he always walks away with a prize because he knows just how to flirt with the carnies :)

tagged by : stole it

tagging : steal it :)

#*【 ☂ ┊ ❛ Maybe they’re here for Kenny’s birthday ❜ 】 ➤ Headcanon #*【 ☂ ┊ ❛ Baby you’re a haunted house. ❜ 】 ➤ Isms

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grad604marcominogue · 6 months

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20 Items

Vintage Globe

Have kept in my room for years, reminds me how big the world is and is a reminder of opportunity. Has this vintage look and beautiful embossing. Will keep it forever.

Rising Sun Pendant

I bought this after overcoming a deep change in my life. Lost a lot of weight and overcame depression and an eating disorder so I bought it to signify the ‘new day’ in my life. Helps keep me grounded .

Surfboard

Broken first board that got me in to surfing. Was passed down from my sister to my brother to me so I held on to it for decorationand keep it to remind me of my family. Surfing has always been a unique way I’ve been able to express myself and was a massive part of my youth.

Operation Doomsday Vinyl

Favourite album of all time. Was an immediate purchase as soon as I got my record player. The albums sampling and experimentation changed the way I listen to music and had a profound effect on me as a creative.

Record Player

A recent gift. Listening to vinyl gives me this raw sense of creativity. The clearer sounds I hear from the record player help me understand musical compositions and It ispires me to think deeper about the decisions I make within design.

Laptop

Birthed my abilities, allowed me to unlock my abilities and get my ideas on paper for the first time ever. Learning to utilise digital creation has been the most important step in identifying myself as a creative person.

Lamp

Emitting a warm orange light, the old school lamp is the only light source in my room. The tint it gives and the deep shadows it casts creates a space I can be creative in.

Headphones

Noise cancelling truly locks out the rest of the world and gets me in the absolute zone. Helps me push out any external noise and allows me to think, reflect on my work and draw inspiration from the music I listen to.

Stationery

Been integrating analogue process into my work. Keep them handy at all times so I can get any random idea on paper, helping unpack any ideas I might have.

Paintbrush

A new tool in the box, I’m struggling to figure out how to use this effectively. I’ve been using it to challenge myself as a creative and is telling as to how I strive to expand my creative range.

Speaker

Even on low volume, my speaker is on daily. I draw a ton of creativity from music. It’s simple, sleek design ties in to my room cleanly. My speaker is key in getting me working productively and happily.

Wales Bonner Shoe

A recent purchase by a designer I admire, Wales Bonner. A classic Adidas silhouette with several unique fabrics and colours.Reflective of how I love putting a spin on traditional ideas and art across a range of mediums.

Vicinity Denim

Statement piece with super maximalist type design. I have began expanding my style to match my creative ideas and values. The embroidery remindsme of David Carsosn’s work.

Chelsea Kit

Chelsea Football Club is my first love. It is the first thing I found myself being truly passionate about. Football being my first means of self expression, incorporating flair, hard work and reflects my desire to improve myself always.

MF DOOM Ring

A gifted piece of jewellery. Super big ring that really stands out. A big identifier in the way I portray myself When someone recognises it in public we give eachother that silent nod of approval. A bit of an artistic validation.

Wardrobe

How I represent myself. Surfwear, Jerseys, Hats. All of it. Have a lot of clothes and its becoming a passion. Reflects me as a person through various stages of my life each garment is telling as to how I portray myself through fashion.

Doomsday Poster

Beautiful framed composition. Was a freebie from the vinyl and is now displayed right above my bed. Has such an interesting art style. The influence of DOOM on me as a creative is greater than anything else.

Handmade Rug

First piece of art I made that has a real life use. Was made in a class and is a very different medium I’d never worked with. I thoroughly enjoyed challenging myself with this creation. Was so difficult to make and I take pride in having it on display.

LEGO Countach

Two childhood favourites combined. The countach is the most stylish car of all time. It is my dream vehicle. For now I just keep one made out of lego. But you never know what the future might hold.

Painting

A work in progress… Working on a massive canvas and in a new medium with no rules for the first time. Enjoying the challenge but intimidated by the process. Shows my open mindedness towards new mediums and methods of creation.

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midnighticephnx · 11 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NFL EQUIPMENT boys large L 14-16 Peyton Manning jersey shirt.

#18

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slyveeenterprise · 1 year

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Yang mana nak custom Jersey sblum dan selepas raya Boleh PM kami di bio #sublimation #sublimationprinting #sportswear #embroidery #tshirt #printing #apparel #tshirts #custom #hoodies #fashion #basketball #sports #clothing #smallbusiness #jersey #screenprinting #heatpress #design #sublimationprint #streetwear #football #usa #sublimationjersey #shorts #custommade #tshirtdesign #gymwear #customshirts #vinyl https://www.instagram.com/p/CqAViHPLW99/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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versastyle22 · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just found on Poshmark: Official NFL jersey child's Small 4 Redskins (commanders) 26 Clinton Portis.

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rightsideoutshirts · 1 year

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Excited to share the latest addition to my #etsy shop: Hurst 88 PNG, Svg, Eps cut file | Digital Download only | Bengals | Jersey Numbers | print cut l | Not a physical product | Cricut | Vinyl #png #eps #vinyl #cricut #cutfiles #football #jerse https://etsy.me/3XQQp0o (at Right Side Out Tee Shirt Co.) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn83AVuOUXM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#etsy #png #eps #vinyl #cricut #cutfiles #football #jerse

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stone-didion · 1 year

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I wonder if the girls who sat on the swing sets after dark with me /

And counseled me on how to make myself more appealing to my crush at the time ever regret telling me that the only thing I needed to do was lose weight. As if I wasn’t weighing at Weight Watchers every Saturday morning with my mother, starting at the age of 12. As if I didn’t have my routine down. Wake up. Go to the meeting. Take off as many layers as possible before weighing in. Feel good at the validation you receive if you’ve lost weight. Begin to hate yourself slowly if you don’t. Either way, there’s a Starbucks next door and you can order a venti iced coffee with two pumps of sugar free vanilla syrup, two Splendas, and a dash of skim milk / and it’s 0 points! And it tastes just like a vanilla latte. (It doesn’t.) Don’t they know I’ve wondered how I might be able to survive on 0 point sad lattes after weekly weigh ins where I always pee before weighing in. Every ounce counts.

As if I did not go to Chili’s last week with them and turn down the blooming onion even though I really fucking wanted it - because I looked up and saw Betty, our meeting leader, sitting in a sticky vinyl booth across the room. As if I did not raise my hand to share proudly how seeing Betty out and about helped me turn down the thing my body wanted in favor of half an ounce. As if I am not painfully aware of the way my thighs rub together. As if I didn’t have to shop in the women’s section for a formal dress when we went to see A Christmas Carol and we were told to dress up. As if I wasn’t wildly overdressed and embarrassed - even though in the dressing room I’d begged my mother to say yes. The dress was green, it fit well - with an empire waist so I wouldn’t have to worry about my belly outline showing through. It came with a shawl. One of my friends asked me if I was going to prom, and suddenly my feelings of beauty were squashed. Now, I was simply fat and overdressed. Making myself even more of a target.

As if losing weight could cure my blues. As if losing weight was my duty. As if losing weight would make me whole.

I didn’t lose the weight. He dated me anyway. I remained self-conscious on game days when I would wear his football jersey, and it felt snug on my body. I remained self-conscious at the birthday party when he pulled me into his lap, and again when he tried to kiss me in that basement, with Doritos in his braces.

I wonder if those girls know how that moment shaped how I saw myself for the next two decades. I wonder if they even think about it at all.

#writers #stonedidion #women writers #writing #amwriting #writeblr

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svgdemon-design · 2 years

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Wrexham Wales Soccer Jersey SVG, Wrexham Wales SVG, Football Soccer Dragon SVG DXF EPS PNG

Wrexham Wales Soccer Jersey SVG, Wrexham Wales SVG, Football Soccer Dragon SVG DXF EPS PNG ♥Warmly Welcome To Our Store!♥ Are you looking for original and cute high quality clip art images to use in your projects? You’ve come to the right place!! You can use them for tshirts, scrapbooks, wall vinyls, stickers, invitations cards, web and more! Perfect for T-shirts, iron-ons, mugs, printables, card…

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apex-azhar · 2 years

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All over design sublimation print short sleeve premium quality shirts #sublimation #sublimationprinting #sportswear #embroidery #tshirt #printing #apparel #tshirts #custom #hoodies #fashion #basketball #sports #clothing #smallbusiness #jersey #screenprinting #heatpress #design #sublimationprint #streetwear #football #usa #sublimationjersey #shorts #custommade #tshirtdesign #gymwear #customshirts #vinyl https://www.instagram.com/p/CjD0Hc3r19i/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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beatdisc · 2 years

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Re-issue Round-up!

Owls Band - s/t (2001) Underrated 2001 debut from the Cap'n Jazz & American Football offshoot feat. Tim & Mike Kinsella, Victor Villarreal and Sam Zurick taking their 90's emo roots into avant-garde math-rock territory. Re-pressed for the first time in a decade by Jade Tree on translucent blood orange colour vinyl. $55.

Kikagaku Moyo / 幾何学模様 - House In The Tall Grass (2016) / Masana Temples (2018) Two classic records from the Japanese psych-rock outfit re-pressed by Guruguru Brain. Japanese import black vinyl pressings with obi-strip. $55 each.Linda Hoover - I Mean To Shine (1970)First ever release of the lost 1970 album from then-19-year-old New Jersey singer. Famously backed & co-written by Donald Fagen & Walter Becker of Steely Dan! A lost folk masterpiece resurrected by Omnivore Recordings. $55.

Slipknot - s/t (1999) / .5: The Gray Chapter (2014) We're slowly seeing the 2022 Slipknot re-issue series roll through our doors, with these 2 selections currently in-stock and hopefully more to come. s/t ("lemon" colour vinyl) $50 / Gray Chapter (2xLP pink colour vinyl) $70.

Neil Young - Reprise Records - Toast (2000/01) Archival release featuring the 7-song unreleased album from Neil Young and Crazy Horse recorded at Toast studio in San Francisco in late 2000 and early 2001. Available on 2xLP ($75) or Digipack CD ($32)

K's Choice - Paradise In Me (1995) / Cocoon Crash (1998) Two classic 90's albums from the Belgian duo re-pressed by @musiconvinyl on limited colour wax. Paradise (2xLP white) $65 / Cocoon (1LP white) $55.

Yothu Yindi - Tribal Voice The iconic 1991 album feat. "Treaty" re-pressed on yellow vinyl. $65.

Slint (official) - Spiderland Not a new pressing, but always worth noting that this masterpiece is back in-stock. $40.

(Running out of character space but here's more!)

- Screamfeeder - Kitten Licks (Silver) $45 - Liars - They Threw Us All In A Trench... (Recycled colour) $45 - Keane - Strangeland $55 - Lovage (2xLP black vinyl re-press) $70 - Rich Kids On LSD - Live In A Dive $35 - Pulley - Encore (2xLP turquoise splatter) $48 - No Fun At All - E.P.'s Going Steady (2xLP random colour) $48 - Girls Against Boys - House Of GVSB (2xLP) $60

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