#Just... my God I STILL can’t believe this is a real thing that just happened!!! AHHHH!!!💘💘💘💘💘
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Love Potion
Mattheo Riddle x Reader
Summary: Mattheo always looked at you in a certain way.
His eyes always followed your every move.
You noticed it very early on just how much attention he was paying to you.
His eyes followed you everywhere.
No matter the place, time or occasion.
Let it be class or breakfast or lunch or dinner.
He always had an eye on you.
And you actually didn’t mind.
Mattheo is a very handsome guy. Even if everyone and even your instincts warned you about him, there was still something.
Something which kept you interested.
You felt a pull towards him.
A pull you never acted on.
So, it was mostly longing looks exchanged between you two, nothing more.
One evening, you were having dinner with your friends.
Hermione talked about Ron and how stupid he was. Then you grabbed a bonbon and popped it into your mouth.
“Y/N NO!” you heard someone say but it was too late.
Amortentia.
Or as they called it, love potion.
The entire room smelled like him. Amortentia tends to smell like the person you are in love with, you didn’t even realise.
You were blind.
The room smelled like smoke, honey and wood.
You wanted to see him, kiss him.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to eat it!” said one of the Hufflepuffs. “I was meant to prank my roommate!”
While everyone was talking, you were quick to run off into the backyard of the school.
You had a pretty good idea of where to find Mattheo.
And surely enough, you found him by the trees smoking.
“RIDDLE!” you yelled, making him flinch and almost drop his cigarette.
“Y/N?”
“Kiss me! RIGHT NOW!”
“Are you drunk?”
“Just in love, come on.” you ran over to him, almost making him trip as you came in contact with him.
He grabbed you to save you from falling and this is when he noticed your eyes.
“Were you given something?”
“All I feel is looooove.” you said and smiled.
Mattheo noticed Hermione from the corner of his eyes.
“What happened to her?”
“A Hufflepuff gave her Amortentia.” she explained as she grabbed your hand and began to pull you back.
“Love potion? Why?”
“Forget this happened Riddle!” Hermione yelled back at Mattheo as you waved to him.
“Byeeee Matty!” he lifted his hand and gave you a small wave back. He was utterly confused.
—
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I DID THAT!” you yelled into your pillow once the potion wore off. “Why didn’t you stop me?!”
“I tried!” said Hermione.
“I want to die. I’m so embarrassed. At LEAST he was alone! Imagine if I did that in front of the school!”
“Well… on our way back to our rooms… you kinda… just a tiny little bit yelled in front of everyone passing by that Mattheo is yours and you will fight for your true love… kinda.”
“Oh. My. Fucking. God. No.” you shook your head but she nodded. “NO. PLEASE NO.”
“And… maybe… kinda… The Slytherins were also there? Maybe?”
“I am jumping out the window,” you said as you stood up and walked towards the window, Hermione grabbed your hand and pulled you back. “I want to die, please. This is so embarrassing!”
“The thing is that almost everyone like cheered for you. Malfoy even wanted to give you a high-five for being so brave. I thought he was being sarcastic, but he was for real. Then Theodore came up and said ‘Go get him, Tiger’ They were all cheering you on.”
“So, I’m the laughingstock of the entire school. Lovely.”
You fell back into your bed, face into the pillow. How will you face everyone tomorrow?
—
“Mattheo Riddle! The lucky guy!” said Theodore as he hit Mattheo in the shoulder. “Having one of the prettiest girl scream and declare her love for you. Lucky you!” Mattheo rolled his eyes at his friend.
Although he couldn’t sleep one bit for the entire night, his mind was way too busy.
“It was only a prank.” Mattheo said. It was the only logical explanation.
“Nope. You know Angie? The Hufflepuff girl? Nevermind… Apparently, she made some chocolate for her friend as a prank, but Y/N ended up eating one and it had Amortentia in it.” Mattheo looked at Theodore, trying to see if his friend was lying but he wasn’t.
“And how do you know that?”
“Angie told her friends and I heard it. They didn’t realize I was standing there. But lucky you, having a girlfriend! Don’t fuck it up tho! Or I might steal her.”
“Piss off.” Theodore laughed as they both entered the class.
Mattheo’s eyes immediately locked with yours. You looked scared as you looked away. He could only imagine how you were feeling.
But he was just as confused and embarrassed.
After classes, you wanted nothing more than to run back to your room and hide from everyone.
No one said a thing. But the looks they gave you, said it all.
You just wanted to get out.
You made it to the hallways when someone behind you called your name.
It was Mattheo, your eyes widened as you quickly darted into the girl’s bathroom.
“Y/N, I just want to talk.”
“Look I’m sorry what happened okay?! Please just forget it.”
Then he opened the door and came into the bathroom as you back away and walked into the sinks.
“This is the girl’s bathroom what are you doing?”
“I need to know if, what you said is true. Did you mean any of it or was it the potion?”
“I-I.” you wanted to lie, you wish you were a better liar. All you could do was listen to your heart hammer in your chest.
“So it’s true. What you said is all true… you do lo-”
“OKAY now, please, I’m embarrassed enough, I do not need your rejection, Riddle. Please can you just leave me alone?” you wanted to go into a stall and lock yourself for eternity.
“I thought you hated me.” he suddenly said and you looked at him, shocked. “I was watching you and… you always avoided my looks. Okay, not always but many times.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just agree to grab some butterbeer with me. That could be a start.”
“What?” you were so confused.
“I’m asking you on a date.”
“You are asking me on a date?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” he asked as you turned your body back towards him.
“I thought you didn’t do… dates.” you sounded very nice, you worded it even more nicely.
“I don’t. But with you, I will.”
“So, what? You… like me too? After what I said and did yesterday?”
“It was very cute.”
“Cute? Which part exactly? When I yelled at you to kiss me or when I swore to kill whoever dares to go close to you?”
“Exactly.” he smirked. “I will wait for you, get ready for our date. An hour? Is that enough?”
“Okay. An hour.” he nodded and turned to leave.
You stood there, stunned when a voice behind you made you jump.
“How romantic!”
“Myrtle!”
“You have a date! Go get ready!” she yelled and you listened.
You got ready relatively quickly.
You debated not going, then you decided to give it a try and go.
Then, as you waited by the gates you were prepared for Mattheo not showing up.
Maybe this was his way of repaying you for embarrassing him?
But, he did show up. He did take you out to eat and drink and you did have a good time.
He did walk you back to your dorm and placed a small kiss on your cheek as a goodbye.
He did all that.
And if you only knew it would take a small amount of love potion for you to finally be with him, you would have eaten that piece of chocolate a long time ago.
Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
#mattheo riddle#slytherin boys#mattheoxreader#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle x fem reader#mattheo riddle x female reader#mattheo riddle imagines#x reader#fanfiction#x female reader#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter x reader#slytherin x reader
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Hi! I’ve read quite a lot of your works and I’ve got to say, you’re a great writer, like oh my god!
I was wondering if you could write a one shot of Alastor with a female reader wife who’s like Beetlejuice? Appearance wise (but more feminine), personality wise and power wise as well. Maybe he hadn’t seen her full power before due to no one chanting her name, but during extermination day, as a last resort, someone does and she kind of just goes full on “beast mode” to protect her husband? What would Alastor’s reaction be? Would he like it?
If you can’t do it, that’s alright! I hope you have a great day! ^^
( ≧ᗜ≦)₊˚⊹♡ OMG NONNIE!! you do not understand how excited i was to write this for you hence beetjuice being one of my favorite movies hehe and thank you so much i hope you enjoy this one !!
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
ghost with the most !
alastor/beetlejuice f!reader
warnings: slight angst, mentions of blood and massacre, some fluff towards the end!!
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
“Wait…sooo you’re telling me chuckles over there has a wife?!” Angel Dust asks his voice raising in disbelief towards the chipper blond in front of him who just so happened to spring this unbelievable information on him.
“Oh sure!” Mimzy raved, with a sort of twinkle in her eye that she only got when she started to gossip. “Under all that creepy and murderous exterior there’s a big ol’ sap! Can’t say I blame him ether — his wife’s a real firecracker! Me and her use to get into all kinds of trouble when we were living!”
She sighs reminiscent on her past looking like she was lost in thought before Angel erupts in bewilderment once more, “There’s no fucking way! I can’t believe i’ve never heard about this…”
Then he suddenly glares at Husk who was unamused by the whole thing. “What?” He huffs with an eyebrow raised, using a towel to wipe off the innards of a dirty glass.
“You knew about this didn’t you…” He eyes him with the worst stink eye making Husk snort, “Listen…I did but that women is bad news and if anyone bothers to say her name three times it’s over…” The cat then places the glass delicately amongst the others before Mimzy gestures for a drink earning a scowl out of him, grabbing the glass once more. “Besides why wouldn’t i know…”
Angel Dust rolls his eyes, resting his cheeks in a pair of his hands taking all this new information in, then sitting up straight again. “Wait? why three times..”
Mimzy giggles delightfully like a toddler clapping her hands seeing Husk place a full glass in front of her. “It’s like her way of a contract honey, to make sure you truly need her when she’s summoned and she’s not all that bad Huskie she’s just a little eccentric and bizarre is all, but truly a fun gal!”
Husk lets out an annoyed huff turning his back to her as she downs her drink in one big gulp with a small hiccup following. “Besides no one’s seen her in years, bless her damned soul…” Mimzy goes back to being reminiscent once more, but this time with a frown forming on her face which was unusual for her.
“Anyways tits, are ya joining us tomorrow? Gonna be a riot.”Angel Dust attempts at changing the subject though he still wanted to know more, seeming that his question somewhat spooked her she started readying herself to leave.
“No, no, no sweetheart! As much as I loooove a good brawl, this one is just not my cup of tea, kick ass though, choa!” And like that the tiny little blonde broad was gone out the door.
Leaving Angel to stew on all this information he just consumed, his eyes then wandering on the grouch in front of him with a smirk playing on his face.
“Wanna fuck before we die?”
“No.”
“Worth a shot.”
⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🪲
On Extermination Day it wasn’t looking so hot for the Hazbin crew.
Each and everyone getting hit down one by one like a domino effect without really too much that they could do about it with their fire power seeming to not be enough like they thought.
Angel Dust looks along the battle field, spotting most of his friends injured or worse and none other than Alastor actually getting his ass kicked. Causing the spider insane amounts of uneasiness, when suddenly an idea clicks.
“Y/n…..,” Angel Dust hesitates thinking back to what Husk said about you and how this could possibly turn out. “Ah fuck it….Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!” He gives in shouting it as loud as he possibly could and within an instant the sky above the hotel swirled in green, causing many sinners and angels to look into the direction of it completely in awe of what it could be.
Alastor holding his chest as the gash across it starts to burn profusely, he notices everyone had stopped for some odd reason making him look in the direction of what had caught everyone’s attention, and if that man’s smile wasn’t permanently on his face already you would’ve saw the biggest grin known to man.
Suddenly a loud noise of a playful accordion rips through the air in a circus theme. ( https://youtu.be/gwsR5gOKK1U?feature=shared sounds something like this if your curious.) “Attention Kmart shoppers!” Your sweet yet sinister voice echoes throughout everyone’s ears with a menacing giggle following. “CLEAN UP ON ISLE SEVEN!! ,” Everyone looks around confused without noticing your form appearing in the middle of a bunch of the Exterminators, Angel Dust finally getting a good look at you causing his jaw to drop. Green hair flowed down your shoulders, a white and black striped dress hugged your body as two large mallets adorned both hands with a mischievous grin that could put Alastor’s to shame, then spinning both mallets around before giving quick blows to each and every dumbfounded exterminator that you saw, leaving an absolute massacre in your wake. Chest heaving with golden blood on your face, when you suddenly notice them, quickly wiping the blood with your striped sleeve and made your way over.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
(dress ref!!)
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
Your green cloud forms behind a unsuspecting Adam with a pointed black nail coming out to tap his shoulder. He looks around aimlessly before facing Alastor once more, and then suddenly a large golf club appears with you on the other end of it with a golfers cap on your head. “FOUR!” Is shouted from your lips as you suddenly swing it with much force sending the douche bag flying lord knows where.
You hold your hand over your eyes pretending you saw where he was going, but then quickly snapped out of it to tend to your lover. “Always know how to make an entrance my dear,” Alastor says rather proud of his wife for being able to keep her cool all while kicking ass. “Oh you know I can’t help myself when there’s a crowd!” You dust yourself off before you do your best to help him up seeing his gash slowly dissipating into nothingness leaving just the rip in his nice dress shirt making you frown. “Awww Al, he ruined my favorite shirt!” You then loose track of what you were upset about and start playing with the hole delicately skimming your fingers across his skin, making him shiver as you made it seem like a mouth making ‘nom, nom,nom’ noises until Alastor cleared his throat.
“Sorry babe..” He chuckles down at you while then patting your head, before you wrap your arm around him taking him back to his friends.
“That’s quite alright…now how about we do some catching up, i want to hear all about your adventures,” He says looking down at you feeling how much he really missed this, missed you, clinging to you close like he never wanted to let you go again while you two walked.
Your eyes light up, bouncing up and down giddily next to him before jabbering on the rest of the way about things like almost getting eaten by a sand worm and practically ruining a recently deceased married couples start on the after life.
And of course Alastor was happy to hear all of it from his precious wife who he adorned and loved very much…
#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings#☆⋆｡𖦹anon’s#☆⋆｡𖦹 alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin imagine#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor
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Why There’ll Never Be Another Good Omens 2 Experience
The strangest thing happened after a few days post my watching of S2. I got a wave of real, bittersweet sadness.
Not due to the obvious – I was dealing with that too, but with more excitement than anything – but because I realized something, as a writer and consumer of media. I realized that it’s unlikely I’ll ever get a media experience close to what I experienced at the end of Good Omens 2. Because really, its setup was absolutely unparalleled – in general, and for myself personally.
I am currently writing my third romance, and what I’ve learned primarily about the genre, the way for it to really work, is that there needs to be something keeping the couple apart initially. The more things keeping the couple apart, the stronger the romance hits. The more the couple clashes with each other, the better it is. Societal norms, class issues, initial dislike, literal danger—all these aspects are what make a romance a story. It’s that conflict that creates the compelling narrative. No romance was ever popular because things worked out well from the beginning – it’s that “look at what we were, and look at us now” aspect that gives readers/watchers that satisfaction. It’s the “I can’t believe this happened” effect. The “I would never have foreseen this” effect. The “they’ll never be together” effect. It’s why forbidden romances are so incredibly popular.
Another aspect that makes a romance story really work well is the amount of time it takes for the romance to develop. A couple that gets together after a few days? Eh, it’s tricky. You better make it really dramatic somehow. A great example is Titanic – class differences, betrothal, and a huge amount of danger threatens this couple, so them being in love after only a few days works. But what really sells this one is because we can see how this romance has survived beyond those few days. We see it 80 years in the future, still there, in the memory of Rose. That is why it hits so hard. Romances that span over long periods of time (especially ones that are bittersweet/tragic) hit so much more than ones spanning a short period.
But wait! There’s more!
You can up this effect by not only having the romance take time in story…but having it take time in real life, for the viewer/reader.
This is why romances in TV shows that take years to finally work out are so compelling. It’s that “Pam and Jim” effect, that will-they-won’t-they deal. We are waiting right along with them, and we’re feeling that same relief when all those things keeping them apart finally fall away. This is harder to pull off, because there’s never that guarantee that the story will make it that far. TV shows get cancelled, creators lose interest or die, etc. So it’s not just “Will They, Won’t They,” it’s “Will They, Won’t They, Can They Even Try?”
This is also compounded by that fear that it won’t happen in-story after all, and while in romances you’re pretty positive that things work out (they kinda have to, for it to be labeled a “romance”) in other media, there’s always that possibility. Look at Community – there’s a forbidden/conflict-ridden romance that didn’t end up working out, even though it was “Will They, Won’t They”d for six entire seasons. You also then have shows and ships where fans are almost sure it won’t happen, but still hold out hope. (See: Supernatural, Sherlock, etc.)
Now. Now look at Good Omens. Look at that absolutely unparalleled, unbelievable set up. It’s unbelievable because it takes almost every single thing that makes a romance compelling, and not only uses all of them, but dials them up to 11.
Why are they at odds? Why are they forbidden from being together?
Because they are literally the most opposing forces you can imagine in Western Canon. They are the Angel Guarding The Gate and The Serpent of Eden. The literal only way you could’ve made this a bigger deal would’ve been to make it God and Satan, and even that would’ve not hit as hard, because it’d be like two CEOs getting together – there’s no fear of a higher power adding that delicious conflict. And to add to all this, in real life, the couple is portrayed as two men, which adds that second meta level of conflict.
And what fear/danger is keeping this couple apart?
Not just familial disappointment—but disappointment from God and Heaven and Hell. Not just moral guilt, but the guilt of potentially dooming the entire Earth. And finally, on top of that, the very real danger of being killed. Not only that, but making it as though you never even existed.
And in real life, they face all those roadblocks that queer couples in media have been battling for years and years, but I'll talk about that more in a second.
Okay, then Time. How long have they been kept apart?
For…all of it.
All of the time that ever existed.
They, quite literally, could not have been kept apart longer.
And this leads into those final two points, the ones that actually really sell it. Because I can sit down right now and write a story about an angel and a demon falling for each other at the beginning of time against all odds…but what I can’t do is to have already written it thirty-three years ago.
That’s how long this story has existed. Thirty. Three. Years.
I’m not even counting how this is using characters that have existed as opposing forces for thousands of years. I’m not even saying that, even though that’s also a part of it. But besides that, this story, this exact story started thirty-three years ago, and is still being continued by the author to this day.
Do you know how uncommon that is?
Yes, we have canon that has lasted for many, many years. Hundreds. We get new versions of beloved older stories ever year. But it’s so very rare that they are by the same creator. We get new Sherlock Holmes content, but it is not written by Arthur Conan Doyle. This, on the other hand, is actual canon content, written by the author of the original. That is unbelievably rare.
That means we’ve got a fandom where some people have grown up with these characters. People who read it at twenty are fifty-three. People who read it at fifty are eighty-three. Kids who saw their parents reading the book now have children of their own. It is a cult classic that has been in the hearts of so many people for generations. Me, personally, I fell in love with it ten years ago, at age twenty, at the very beginning of my own writing journey. This story means so much to people, because it’s stood that test of time.
And yet, this story was never explicitly romantic. So many saw it that way, but it was never something confirmed. Because this was a book from the 90s, at a time where this kind of romance just wasn’t in popular media if it wasn’t played as a joke. It was, back then, the same kind of “forbidden” as a romance between angel and demon. So people imagined, but they never expected anything more. And they’ve continued not expecting more, because even in the 2019 first season, there was never any true confirmation of anything, and people accepted it. You have a 33-year-old story here – it’s possible that this major change/confirmation could happen, but all things considered, it was unlikely. You would never blame the creator for not making major developments to a story they wrote with their late friend a lifetime ago. And no one in production was saying a word to confirm or deny, but we’ve seen all this before. It was a Will-They-Won’t-They…Probably-Not situation.
And then you have the end of S2.
And that's where that bittersweet sadness comes in for me, personally. Not at a huge level, not to the point where I'd have it any other way, but it's there regardless. Because I realized that this was a unique situation that could never be replicated, for me, and likely for many, especially readers of the book pre-show. In all likelihood, I would never again experience a romantic payoff like this one. Because it was the most forbidden of forbidden romances, the couple of which have been kept apart by the worst of all dangers and highest level of guilt for the longest amount of time literally possible, written over a real-life span of time where this kind of romance went from “completely taboo even in real life” to “finally acceptable in popular media,” written by the same creator, and not confirmed as canon until the story reached the age of Jesus Christ himself.
And the real kicker is, even after everything these two literally star-crossed lovers have gone through…they’re still being kept apart. They’ve still not taken down those final, seemingly insurmountable barriers between them. It wasn’t a “here you go 😊” move to make long-time fans happy – it’s being used as a perfect, painful plot point. After 33 years, we’re still having to wait longer.
Chef's kiss. Couldn’t have been a better set up if it was mathematically calculated. And yet, the best part is that it happened organically.
It just works.
#good omens#good omens 2 spoilers#go2 spoilers#good omens 2#gos2 spoilers#good omens s2 spoilers#good omens spoilers#good omens season 2#good omens season 2 spoilers#gos2#good omens meta#good omens 2 meta#neil gaiman
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after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader
summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.
contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn
reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!
word count: basically 3.9k
author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that
part two
★–————————–
Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors.
“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?”
Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago.
“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off.
“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.”
He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there.
Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?”
“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.
Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.”
And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him.
———★–————————–
Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused.
He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief.
You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out?
So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least.
He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.
And there you are.
Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off.
“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”
Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.”
Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too.
His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream.
Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him?
Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess.
Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone.
Oh he’s so fucked.
————–——★–————
Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.”
He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late.
Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work.
He had to.
Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen.
You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?”
You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.”
Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.”
And you laugh.
You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions.
“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now.
And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today.
He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems.
It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg.
And he stops looking there.
Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them.
Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away.
God he just knows you’re a needy little thing.
He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss.
“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again.
You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen.
“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes.
His cheeks are hot.
Fuck is he blushing?
He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot
You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you.
Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you.
Okay fine, it is.
“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground.
———————–★–———
Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop.
So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor.
He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up.
The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different.
“You good, Chef?”
To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat.
“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.”
You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Anything, Chef.”
Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.”
He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders.
Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back.
Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious.
When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief?
“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.”
He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.”
Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor.
——————————★–
Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you.
But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him.
You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well.
He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video.
Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.
#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#so many versions of his name#🤍: the bear#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#♡: carmen berzatto#the bear x reader#the bear smut#the bear#carmy x reader#carmy x you#carmy smut#carmen x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x you
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SHE’S MY COLLAR. eren jaeger
── eren knows you, he can deal with you; but sometimes, your obsessions can be too much, even for him.
content contains : nerdy!eren x dumb!gf so real, reader is needy and obsessed with eren, nsfw, unprotected sex, riding, dumbification, ‘just the tip’ moment, size kink kinda, slight cervix kissing, dick drunk reader & pussydrunk eren, creampie. wc: 2.2k. minors do not interact thanks <3
god, you’re annoying sometimes.
unfortunately, you can never seem to realize that your boyfriend is a busy person—or anyone, really, for that matter. it’s like you believe everyone is just as carefree as you; leaving things up to the ‘fate of the universe’ and ditching responsibilities to constantly hang out with eren, essentially leaving him to deal with your eccentricity and fixations.
and it comes as no surprise to learn that he just happens to be the latest one.
it’s different from your other ones—they were much easier. because he could simply just take you to the nearest parlour and buy you scoops and tubs of your favourite ice cream, or spend his latest internship check on your wardrobe and be done with it for a favourable amount of time. but with this? you’ve been as insatiable as they come.
eren can count on two hands how many times you’ve begged him, with tears clumping your dark lashes and patchy mascara, to get away from assignments, studying, classes—even work—just to come see you in the past week. and of course, they all ended the same way; with swollen lips, limbs sore from how you held your legs to your torso as he rutted his hips into the fat of your ass, your messy cunt full of his cum, and both his face and sheets stained with your juices. he doesn’t doubt he’s been shooting blanks for the last few times, too.
but still, the worst part about it all is the fact that he just can’t bring himself to say no to you—despite all of his damned efforts to do so.
“‘ren, you should pay attention to your girlfriend.” you groan, neck curling backwards as you crane your head up to look at him. you’re planted near his left leg as he works away at the desk in his bedroom, completely ignoring your words while pages of code reflect on his glasses. “i don’t wanna sit down here anymore.”
‘i’ve been paying attention to you all week’, he wants to say—but would rather opt for the regular ‘im busy’ rather than anything else that could potentially hurt your feelings. and eren knows you’re immune to it, how if you had a dollar for every time those words left his mouth, you’d be fucking millionaire most likely—but he does it anyways.
it’s laughable, how you offered to sit there yourself as opposed to his lap because he said you would distract him if you did. yet here you were still doing the same thing; looking up at him with that subtle pout and eyes full of adoration of some sort—the kind that has his dick swelling at an embarrassingly quick rate.
“can you take a break? i miss you s’much it hurts.”
eren recognizes the drag in your voice in almost a second. as if uttering a silent prayer, he keeps his breath in the tunnel of his throat when you lazily hug him, hardened nipples brushing against his bare leg through the thin fabric of your tank top. he knows he’s taking you for granted. shit...just how many guys would pay money for this sight; the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on asking him for attention. in all honesty, you’re not the best influence, but it’s gruelling trying not to give in to you.
“fine.” the four letter word is all you need as an invitation to jump from the seat near his chair and into his legs, which widen just a teeny bit for your comfort as you straddle him.
the feeling of your arms wrapped around Eren’s slender waist whilst burying your head in his chest burns through his clothing and into his skin. instead of focusing on how your acrylics gently rake up and down his back, he chooses to open up his phone, mindlessly swiping between different page screens and periodically opening up the ‘settings’ which seem to be so important.
honestly, you just needed to be close to him; close enough to bunch his shirt in your hands while you get a whiff of his body soap and cologne—the same one lingering in your apartment, your clothes, everything. but ugh, his scent alone isn’t capable of grant your contentment; you need him inside of you—his muddled moans flowing into your mouth as you tangle your fingers within his hair, the way his brows pull together when he frantically rubs and your clit, desperate to get you crying for him.
the thought of him alone is more than enough to get you off, and just for a moment you forget eren’s there. too stuck in your head and up in the clouds, you fail to notice the way your body subconsciously rocks itself on his lap, arms tightening in the embrace as you tense from the slight stimulation to your cunt.
and eren. . .he watches with wide eyes full of surprise, his phone falling to the floor with a thud. there’s no other way to describe the sight other than pretty—your eyes are squeezed shut with fickle breaths and lips jutted out into a pout; the same pout you give when it’s just not hitting right. but he can feel all of you rubbing against his crotch, even the damp spot forming on the centre point of his grey sweatshorts.
fuck, he concludes that you must not be wearing anything under the satin shorts hugging your legs. sooner or later, you’d be the death of him.
eren jaeger: death by pussy.
doesn’t sound too bad, considering what he knows he’s in for.
“i need it eren, can’t cum without it.” you ramble the same words that you’ve been saying for the last week, eyes glossed over when you look up at his flushed face. when he tries to speak, you’re quick to cut him off, “just the tip, promise—i promise…”
eren’s almost unsure how he finds himself mindlessly nodding along, as if your whines and pleas are like a coercive drug, “just the tip…”
you repeat those three words over—like it’s more of a mantra to yourself rather than a word of reassurance to your boyfriend—as you clumsily pull one leg out of the confinement of your shorts, giving him the perfect view of your sheened over pussy. just the tip, you mumble, drooling at the sight of eren tugging his pants further down his legs to free his dick, all achey and upright, standing against his torso as he breathes heavily.
your cunt throbs when you line yourself over him, dragging his leaky tip across your folds and sensitive clit. it’s easily one of the best reliefs you could ask for, eyes flitting around in the back of your head as you lean into his shoulder. poor eren could probably cum straight like this, seeing you use him like a damned fuck toy—seeing how horny you are for only him.
his moans only add fuel to the fire, pushing you to try your luck at sliding down his bulbous head before stopping right where it ends. he’s just so big, stretching out your hole with just the tip alone—leaving you to mutter a string of jumbled up curses as your body leans forward into him.
“does it feel good, baby?” the hoarseness in his voice is difficult to miss, it’s as if his throat is closing up with every passing moment. you’ve never tried this before, but the vice grip your cunt has on the most sensitive part of him has him wishing you’d done this much sooner.
“yeah—yeah, it feels really-”
your last word comes out in choked whine, breath hitching when his middle and ring finger find their way to your clit, tracing feather-light circle on the bud.
you want eren to make you cum—you’re so desperate that you resort to steadily rutting yourself down on his tip, focused enough to not break your promise to him. there’s a steadily approaching burn in your thighs: it’s a burn that makes you want to cry, makes you want to beg him to make the pain go away and make you finish—but you hold your tongue.
eren’s lips can only part at your unexpected determination, showcasing the sharp bottom teeth that look so much like fangs. you don’t think when you move a hand to his flushed face, your thumb messily slipping inside his mouth and padding the surface of his canines. your other hand makes its way to his glasses, gently pushing them back up the bridge of his nose before meeting his swollen lips with your own.
the residue of the strawberry cake you fed him hours prior is still lingering on his tongue, you can at least make that out as you swirl your own in his mouth.
the voice in your head chanting ‘just the tip’ is growing fainter and quieter, as if it’s moving from the front of your brain all the way to the back of your head, alongside all of the other forgotten things that seemed to hold no importance to you anymore. you want to feel all of him, the pulse of his cock that seems to barely match his heartbeat, the prominent vein running up the length, and the delicious curve that jutted up right against your walls.
“‘ren, don’t wanna hold out anymore.” relentless is what you’re becoming, tired of the way that your pussy grows achey with every passing moment—it’s not enough.
“you said just the t-tip.”
“i don’t fucking want just the tip!” the tears brimming your eyes are growing more apparent, to the point where eren can’t just simply ignore them. “gotta—you gotta let me have it all!”
eren feels like he’s lost his mind: you’re already driving yourself onto his dick, a silent scream falling from your lips as you split yourself open with his sheer thickness. your hands reach to grab whatever they can, one on the back of his searing nape, and the other on top of his own.
the sought out feeling of being full makes your head almost go haywire, stumbling over words as he bottoms out, tip feathering kisses to your cervix, “i’m sososo obsessed with you eren.”
and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s sososo obsessed with you too. despite all of his complaints, there’s still a longing to give you everything you want—need, even. he can’t help but sigh when your walls start to flutter around him, as if your pussy is welcoming him like it always has.
with your guidance, he moves a hand up your shirt and towards to chest, taking your puffy nipples in hand, rolling and prodding at it before messily taking one into his mouth.
“just…right there—”
your words are less than coherent—too busy slamming yourself back down onto him to make any sense to your boyfriend, who looks at you with his brows pulled together. it’s the same look he gives when he wants to say how ditzy you can be sometimes, but you just can’t help it!
there’s a thickening ring of cream near his base, and the squelching sounds of your cunt fucking him dumb overpowers any other sounds in the room. you sniffle and whine as your pace falters, legs giving out from your sporadic bouncing as you fall into eren. it’s almost a wonder how ‘just the tip’ turned into his tip and much more, but you don’t care enough, too eager to grind your hips along his pelvis, barely moving on his length as you play with your clit.
“you can’t do that...” he finds himself mumbling out. how is it fair for you to do all of this to him, making his dick a fucking mess just to finish it all by your self; without him. “c’mon baby, that’s so unfair” he continues to mumble about how ‘unfair’ it is as he grabs a vice hold of your hips, steadying them in place for a moment and lifting you off of him, just to slam you back down with a pace more fervent than before—one that knocks the fucking wind out of your lungs and roughly brings you back down to earth.
and the trip back down hits as hard as his thrusts. the pace is unforgiving, one that you almost didn’t know he had—barring your body to his chest to easily make you meet him halfway as he fucks up into you with low remorse. his eagerness has dick slipping out of your hole and sliding up against your swollen clit, involuntary spreading the mix of your slick and his pre everywhere between the two of you.
“feel’s so good—yeahyeahyeah—don’t stop ‘ren…” you babble run on sentences that would’ve made zero sense had eren not known you. but he does: he knows the way your brain seemed to shut down while fucking you, and how your velvety walls essentially have been warped by his cock pummelling into you at any given moment.
the arch in your back is irregular, dipped beautifully for eren to hesitantly trace lines up and down the expanse of bare skin. your pussy is the best (and only) one he’s ever had, and there’s nothing that’ll ever change that fact.
because who else’s moans will sound like a god-gifted symphony from heaven? who else’s cunt will tighten around him like so the way you do when you’re cumming, translucent white slick dragging down all over and down to pants? who else will whine and cry his name the way you do? who else will make him happily empty his balls inside of them just because they begged and asked?
nobody.
after all, you’re one of a kind.
#eren x reader#eren jaeger smut#eren jaeger x reader#aot x reader#aot smut#eren smut#eren x black reader#eren jaeger x black reader#aot x black reader#snk smut
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To The Ground Floor
Heyo- Saw this next picture and just had to use it so here’s a businessman to dumb sub twunk TF!
If anyone wants to suggest a prompt for my 1K follower post here’s the link- https://forms.gle/NE66kaH4KJxkhgPk9
Probably be wrapping it up/posting a poll soon! -Occam
I don’t know what my company was thinking when they scheduled our conference in Tenerife. It would be one thing if it was a retreat or team vacation, but it is nearly impossible to get any real work done with all these tourists stomping around and getting in my way. I was set to make it early to our morning meeting, as I always do, before this twat forced his way in before I could get to the close door button. He surely noticed since he glared at me before returning to focus on the only thing that seems to matter to him, his vanity.
In retrospect I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help but scoff as he started to take a picture of his reflection in the door. It was immature, but when dealing with this crowd of influencers or whatever these childish twits has put me off my usually stoic demeanor. He immediately responded with aggression, “You laughin’ mate? You lot all think you’re so much better than us eh?” He scowls once more at me and to his credit, I do think myself superior to him. Not afraid to say it either.
I open my mouth to shoot some clever insult at him but before I can the delinquent fully spits at me! Where does he get off! The elevator chimes as it stops at the sixth floor. I grab my handkerchief to wipe the spit off my dress shoes as I hear him run off, shouting “you’ll get yours ya git!” I look up to see the small of his back showing beneath his trailing coat and mesh top. I can’t help but stare as he runs, asshole he may be but, god, he is hot isn’t he?
I cough as I can’t believe I thought that! He’s absolute filth! Parading himself around dressed like that on a work day, my word! I don’t notice that there is no longer a handkerchief in my hand as I reach to wipe the spit off my shoes with my now empty hand. As I finally wrest my eyes from his pert body I notice that the villain pushed every button in the elevator. So help me god if I’m late to my meeting I will find him and- well, there’s not much I can do. I’m not exactly the peak specimen, unlike, uh him I suppose.
The doors click closed and begin to take me to the fifth floor. I consider hopping off to take the stairs but I’m sure he’ll be there waiting for me. I go to check my rolex when I notice I’m not wearing it? I would never go to a meeting without it though? My mind grows foggy as I thoughtlessly wipe the spit still on my hand on my suit. God it’s a little warm in this elevator isn’t it. I sniff the air and find that it still smells of that jerk. His cologne must’ve been something intense.
I continue to whiff the air before realizing that it is clearly not perfume but his natural body odor, blushing as I grow slightly jealous at his scent. I find my mind drifting as I think what a man he must be to smell so, mm. The only word I can think is, virile? Ugh, I need to get to work, this is going to set me back. The doors clink open to the fifth floor as the heat only continues to grow. Why am I wearing such a thick suit jacket anyway? It is so fucking hot on this island. I absolutely hate it here. I’ll just take it off for the rest of the elevator ride. Yeah, that couldn’t hurt right? My eyes glaze over as I think of his coat trailing off his head as he ran down the hallway and I bite my lip.
God that hot fucker. My jacket falls to the floor and before I can catch it it’s as if it was never there. I grunt as I think once more of my upcoming meeting. Surely they won’t judge right? My mind shuffles as I don’t even try to understand what has happened to my jacket. The fogginess in my head swiftly finds a form though as I see his smug smirk in my mind. Fuck I- I need to fuck him, or be fucked or? I grunt once more, my voice noticeably more dull. I try to fan my shirt open as the heat grows worse and I find myself growing hornier by the second. The elevator is already on the way to the fourth floor without my notice. I give up fanning my shirt and instead just open the buttons when I am suddenly met with something I cannot reconcile. When the fuck did I get, such, fuckable pecs? I press a finger into my own chest and start to drool as I see the depth of my muscle. I see my brown nipples grow and try to wipe the pooling drool from my mouth as I think how much my body looks like that uh, that twit? No that uh, that hot fucker? I feel like I’m losing my mind. Or, losing myself? Uh..
The doors open and close on floor four as I struggle to think of absolutely anything but that, uh, stud. My own chest jutting out forces me to think of his own hearty pecs. The powerful curves of his body stretching his fishnet top, ugh. I see the biceps now on my own arms and struggle to not flex them thinking of that staring at himself in the elevator’s reflective wall and posing. I stare at the abs pushing out of my torso and think of his cinched waist peeking out from those sagging pants. God why didn’t I just try to fuck him then oohh.. Or no, Why didn’t I give myself to him..I moan as I loosen my belt, trying to allow my growing erection some air, instead giving my cock and ass more space to expand.
God his fuckable ass was impossible to miss even through those jeans. I bite my lip once more trying to stop myself from moaning as the doors open to the third floor. No one is there to see or hear me as my pants drop to the floor and disappear as if they were never there. As if I would wear pleated pants ever I think blushing. My cock begins to grow to fill my boxers. Or no hee hee- Surely I’m not wearing boxers right haha, giggling as I look down and see the clear imprint of my erection in my tight spandex. Mikey would never let me wear something so unattractive as boxers~
I feel an itch in my crotch as I think of Mikey once more, not hesitating to wonder how I could possibly know his name. Nor why he brings me such intense, feelings. It’s just, I’m so lucky to have him! Ah- I might lose control if I keep thinking about him, I need to keep it together for my uh, meeting? I shove my hand into my crotch to deal with whatever that itch is when I find it’s not my still growing cock, but a jungle of pubes that have begun to grow down there. I feel my fingers drag through them, now covered in sweat as the pubes begin to push themselves above my waistline.
I giggle to myself as I see the thick black hair inch its way to create a perfect treasure trail up my stomach. I’ve gotta keep it looking good for Mikey after all! I play with the lengthening hair in my crotch, giggling to myself, as the elevator makes its landing on the second floor. I raise my sweaty hand to smell it as some prude stares in disbelief in the elevator lobby. I smile coily at him as he narrows his eyes in shock. He almost looks a little familiar but I’d certainly not waste any of my time on him haha!
He decides not to get on for some reason, not that I care as I look at my sharpening reflection. I play with my chest feeling the ebb and flow of my strength as I start to smell my own scent fill the elevator. I notice my feet are now bare on the dirty elevator’s floor. Ah, I hope Mikey won’t be upset if my feet are gross, smiling to myself as I think of him chewing me out. I feel a similar forest begin to grow in my pits as the elevator stops unceremoniously on the first floor before making its way to the ground floor.
I rub my hands all over on my now almost completely unclothed body as I feel my spandex shrink and tighten into a yellow speedo. My hands glide smoothly around the muscular curves, only ever getting caught on my tangled pubes as I giggle to myself. Wasn’t there something I had to do when I got to the ground floor? I raise my arm to bask in my scent as the elevator finally delivers me to my destination, and who could be standing there but Mikey!
“Mikey!” I shout at him! He looks so happy to see me, before responding, “well you’re looking great aren’t ya love.” He pushes and prods me as if he’s inspecting me as I proudly stand there giving him the doe eyes he demands. He smirks as he pulls me out of the elevator and plants his lips on mine. I can barely help but come right there as I feel my cock stretch at my speedo. I moan but keep it together, feeling his pursed lips grow into a smirk before he pulls away and laughs.
I tilt my head at him before he speaks once more, “you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now right, pet?” My face grows warm with blush, surely betraying my cluelessness as I struggle to remember. I had a meeting or? No, Haha As if! I, I could never work a stupid office job~ I try to look as coy as possible, inviting him to jog my memory. His eyes grow dark, not from aggression, but a hunger welling within him as he answers, “I need ya to get those posh wankers and bring them to me eh, doll? Need to them to submit yeh?”
My smile grows wide as my mind fills with excitement for this task. I’m gonna be so good and Mikey will be so proud of me! None of those boring businessmen will be able to resist me hehe! I begin to make my way out to the beach looking for any salarymen looking especially susceptible to my charms. I strut around, my body on display to everyone, monkeysuit suckers and other horny tourists alike. As if any of them have something more important going on hee hee! Soon they’ll all realize there is nothing more important than pleasuring Mikey!
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miguelxpregnant!reader drabble
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im so sorry but i can just imagine miguel laying his head on his wife’s stomach as he often does to get her to play with his hair because he’s a big baby and after laying down for a second he shoots up looking like he can’t believe something just happened
“ay miguel wtf”
he just shushes you and puts his head back to your stomach and when he looks up at you he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face
“oh my god what is wrong with you”
“mi vida… you’re pregnant”
“..what? no baby im not”
he looks like it’s christmas morning “yes cariño you are”
“how do you know” you’re assuming he was gonna say that he had a feeling
“i can hear it” you look at him like he’s gone insane
“hear what?”
“a heartbeat”
“uh yeah.. mine?”
he rolls his eyes “no.” his hands come to the sides of your waist and he just stares in wonder at your belly
“there’s another one. it’s small but it’s there”
“migs..” you place a hand on his face, you feel bad
“i know you want it to be true but i think i would know if i was over a month pregnant” (heartbeats develop around 35 days)
he just brings your hand down gently still smiling like a madman but then he looks at you very seriously “baby when was your last period”
you think about it for a second. you’ve been literally so wrapped up in work you hadn’t even noticed. your hand comes up to your mouth
“oh my god.”
he’s practically beaming at you but you.. just feel nauseous. “holy shit”
you spring up and run to the bathroom and lock yourself in. you hadn’t told him but you’d stashed a couple tests under the sink. you pulled every single one out and used all three.
he’s outside the bathroom door knocking repeatedly begging you to come out or let him in but you just sit on the floor too scared to look.
“bebe please come out”
“no”
“mi amor i will break this door down”
“don’t you dare”
you heard him sigh and slide down the wall to sit on the floor outside the door.
you wanted this. eventually. you were sure of it but you had expected it to be planned, you weren’t even off the pill yet.
your hands were trembling as you finally picked the test up and flipped the first one over.
and then the second
and then the third.
you sat on the floor a while longer to process. a few minutes later you finally open the door and his head turns to you, face full of concern. you put your hand on his shoulder so he doesn’t get up. you take a shaky breath and hand him the test
he takes it from your hand gently. his eyes widen as he reads it. he looks back up at you. your eyes are puffy you’d clearly been crying but before he can say something like “we have other options” “we don’t have to do this yet if you’re not ready” (which is exactly what he was about to say)
you look at him dead serious and threaten “if you baby me or smother me or try to keep me from working i will make you wish you were never born” but he isn’t even listening he just throws the test aside and pulls you down into his arms. you feel his shoulders shudder slightly
“miggy are you crying?”
he sniffles and looks down as you tip his face up with your hands
“aww mi cielo why are you crying”
“i just never thought i’d get another chance”
you wipe the tears from his face with your thumbs gently.
“well i guess we’re gonna have six kids now”
“six?”
“yeah”
he rolls his eyes even as another tear sneaks it’s way down his cheek “the spider teens are not our children”
“really? because we’ve essentially adopted all five of em”
“speak for yourself”
“oh come on migs i know you love em, even hobie”
“no.”
“mmmhm. i think i’m gonna ask him to be the godfather oo or maybe peter b”
his voice is firm but his face is soft and his eyes are still staring at you like you’re a real life angel he shakes his head gently “you will do no such thing cariño”
“don’t tell me you were planning on asking lego spider man”
“i-“
“god the attachment you have to that piece of plastic is concerning”
“don’t disrespect him like that”
————
the ending was not planned but it made me giggle and i hope you enjoyed
#across the spiderverse#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel x reader#miguel x y/n#spiderman 2099#atsv#miguel ohara#atsv miguel#miguel o’hara smut#miguel ohara fic#miguel ohara fanfiction#dad miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara drabble
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Marc Guiu and reader making up after an argument pls
m. guiu | into it
ik hector doesn’t have his license yet but here he does ok?! also sorry i got carried away and wrote smut :o
warnings: toxic relationship, smut, not proof read
“are you actually fucking kidding me, marc?” you scoff, grabbing your things ready to leave. you were sick of his shit. sick of him taking his anger out on you when you did nothing but support and be there for him. how could be so mean? you understand that him loosing a game would get him upset, but making it seem like it’s your fault, when he should’ve been the one to kick the ball in the net is just not fair.
“yeah run away, like you always do when it gets tough.” he walks after you, shrugging his shoulders. “marc, don’t you take your shit out on me, because the both of us know it’s literally not on me you can’t kick a ball.” you shake your head, clearly having enough of your boyfriends whining. “fuck you can be such a-.” he stops himself before saying something stupid. “yeah, no we’re done. don’t even try to call me because i won’t come back. i mean it this time.”
you walk out the house, catching marc’s sister on the way. “hey, what happened, i heard yelling, are you guys okay?” she gives you an concerned look, probably noticing the tears that have been building up in the corner of your eyes.
before you completely break down in front of her, you decide to give her a nod, before leaving. you couldn’t believe marc. he has gotten mad about his team losing many times, but it has never been this bad. sure you would fight, it’s just something that was part of your relationship, but maybe that isn’t so normal after all.
you were both toxic playing stupid games with each other like how to make the other jealous. you loved it, the fights, the trouble. it’s what kept your relationship entertaining, but now you weren’t so sure anymore.
just fucking great! now you have to walk home. you go to walk on the other side of the street, when you suddenly hear a honk, making you jump. you turn to see hectors car stopping beside you. “shit, you scared me! what the hell are you doing here.” you sigh, shaking your head. “came to take you home.” he answers. “i’m f-.” “just get in the damn car, y/n.” hector interrupts you. you roll your eyes, walking to the passenger seat.
you wouldn’t have needed him to drive you if it wasn’t so dark out. “did marc tell you to drive me?” you ask, looking over at him. he doesn’t reply, instead he keeps looking at the road not giving a reaction, so you must take his silence as an answer. “what happened?” you can’t help but scoff. “as if marc didn’t tell you already.” he shakes his head. “he didn’t. he just told me he fucked up again and that i should pick you up.”
“we’ll at least he knows he did.” you breathe out a laugh. “seriously, what happened?” he repeats. “he’s just bitching about the lose of the game and literally behaves like a child, acting like it’s my fault. he also almost called me a bitch… so told him we’re done.” hectors eyes widen, looking like they are about to pop out. “wait what? you broke up with him, like for real this time.”
you giggle, nodding. “i’m just done with all the fights, you know.” you look out the window watching the peaceful road, with almost no cars to be seen. “but you guys love it.” he furrows. “i’m just tired lf it, you know?” he nods. “that’s fair, he’s dumb for treating you like that.” hector says, before shutting the motor down, because you arrived home. “what are you doing right now?” you ask hector, since you guys haven’t talked much previously. “nothing, why?” you smirk. “you have to stay with me! we haven’t had our gossip sessions in so long.” you nudge him. “yeah, if that makes you feel better.” he smiles shrugging. “definitely. god, there’s so much tea!!” you walk over to your house
…
“i still love him, even if he does stupid shit like that you know.” you tell hector, while stuffing the chips in your mouth. you would probably die if anyone saw you like this, but it’s only hector, he’s seen you your worst times. even though he’s marc’s best friend, he never told him anything when you would talk about him. that’s why you can talk so openly with him about anything, he just won’t tell anyone. “then why don’t you get back with him?” hector asks. a knock on the door cuts in your conversation. “y/n?” you hear marc’s voice, making hectors mouth drop in a gasp.
shit, this looks so wrong right now, with hector laying in your bed as well as yourself. you walk over to the door, opening it a tiny bit to see his sad looking face. he genuinely looks like he’s sorry. you look back to hector that sits dumbfound in your bed. “who’s in there?” marc asks. you shake your head. “no one.” you answer way too quick. he pushes open your door, revealing hector that is sat on your bed. you look him in the eyes to see an hint of reaction, but he doesn’t show any.
“why is he here?” marc asks, way too calm, it’s almost scaring you. “we just talked.” you say your eyes meeting with the ground, mentally preparing yourself for the yelling. “okay.” he just nods. you look up at him, a furrow on your face. have you heard that right? “can i talk to you..alone?” marc scratches the back of his head, nervously. you nod following him out.
“did you fuck him?” woah straight to it marc! also what the fuck? “what the fuck, no!” you exclaim. “okay.” he nods. “marc, can you explain yourself other than replying with an “okay”. why are you here?” he just keeps head low. he almost looks like.. he’s intimidated by you.
“i wanted to apologise.” he finally looks at you. suddenly hector comes out of your room. he points to the door awkwardly, mentioning he’s gonna leave. you give him a smile before looking back at marc.
“marc..” you start. “no please, don’t say anything, just hear me out. i shouldn’t have talked to you the way that i did. it was stupid of me to take everything out on you, because you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and i would never want you to feel guilty of something that i did. i understand that you probably never wanna talk to me again, but i just need to make sure that despite what i said, you know that i love you.” something in the way he’s saying it makes you believe him, but you’re not sure if you can forgive him so soon.
but fuck, he has no right to look this good right now, you’re supposed to be mad at him! his lips plump and red from the way he’s been biting on them nervously, his biceps broad and strong as he crosses his arms and his eyes looking lowly down on you. how can you be mad at him, when he looks like that? “you’re on probation, i guess.” marc’s eyes light up. “what’s that supposed to mean? please. are you ever going to forgive me?” he asks, needing to know. “like i said, you’re on probation.” you reply, getting closer to him. “that isn’t a yes, y/n. do i need to get on my knees and beg for you?” you can’t help but smirk. “getting on your knees wouldn’t be such a bad idea, actually.”
“fucking hell, well we can always make that happen.” his hand makes its way to your waist, pulling you onto him. in a matter of seconds his lips are on your’s. he tightens his hands on your waist and runs the other up your back, pressing you harder into his chest. your hands move in his hair, pulling him closer, if that’s even possible. he parts your lips with his tongue, to deepen the kiss. his hand on your waist loosens and trails down the side of your body, until he turns it to grab your ass. he lets out a low groan, bringing his other hand also down on your ass. you pull on his bottom lip slightly, making him smile in the kiss before reconnecting them again.
he squeezes your butt, muttering a quick “jump.” before picking you up and carrying you to your bed. he sits down, your legs each spread as you straddle him. he grips your hips, moving them back and forth so you’ll grind on him.
he groans as you feel his dick twitching under your cunt. he unbuttons his pants, making you slide your hand in them to feel his hard and veiny dick. you always forget how big he is.
he groans, taking your hand out of his boxers. “i want to make you feel good.” can he get any hotter? you smile at him, while dropping beside him on the bed. he lifts your arms before taking off your top and throwing it on the ground. he begins sucking and kissing your neck, most likely in order to cause hicky’s so everyone knows who you belong to, but it feels too good right now, to care about. his hand slides down to your loose pyjama shorts, touching your clit. you let out a whimper. you forgot how well he knew what you liked. “you look so good, ma.” he says now kissing your tits, sucking on them like a newborn.
his mouth moves back on your’s, when he slides his cold fingers into your shorts, forming goosebumps on your skin. he immediately finds your hole pushing his fingers inside of you without an warning. he keeps stretching your walls, causing you to moan in his mouth. you part your mouth in the kiss, marc taking the opportunity to bite on your button lip, tasting your cherry flavoured lipgloss. he plumps his fingers in and out of you, whispering sweet words in your ear, in order to show his love for you.
his mouth moves from your face, down to your body, where you need him the most. he starts eating you out like his live depends on it licking and sucking in all your juices. you push his head deeper in your cunt, needing to feel him deeper. “marc i need your dick, please.” you moan. he looks up to you, eyes glistening, having waited for you to say that. as soon as the words left your mouth, he instantly turns you around, having your face meet with the pillow. he pulls your pants down, following with his own. you turn your head to watch him pull out his dick. lord, you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get used to his size.
he stretches your cunt as he slides into you, having you bite in the pillow in order to not let embarrassing sounds out of you. he fills you up moving, his dick in and out of you. your eyes almost fall to the back of your head, from rolling them as he fucks into you relentlessly. “fuck, so tight, ma.” he groans. you move your ass up, for yourself to feel him deeper, according to the fact he isn’t fully in you yet. “fuck, y/n. if you do that one more time i’m gonna come.” he curses.
he buries his dick deeper inside of you, his balls hitting your butt, making you whine of pleasure. he spanks your ass, fastening his peace. “marc!” you cry, as you feel him hitting your g spot. he moves rapidly, squeezing your waist. your legs begin shaking, signalling marc that, you’re gonna come. “do it.” he demands. with a cry, you cum around his cock, making him twist inside of you and pull out, coming on your belly.
he breathes heavily, his sweaty chest rising and falling with each breathe he takes. “fuck.” he mutters before getting up to take a towel from your bathroom. you look on your cum covered stomach, then back at marc that’s coming back with the towel. he smiles slightly, as he wipes it all off of you. “how are you?” he goes to lay beside you, his arms naturally finding their way to your waist, hugging you. “for a person that won’t be able to walk for the next hours, i’m doing great actually.” he laughs, pecking your shoulder.
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stop assigning meaning to the physical world.
stop assigning meaning to something that is only reflecting you.
it is always reflecting what you have inside, constantly and continuously.
the 3D should arise no interest in you.
you gave it to yourself in imagination and that’s MORE than enough. you have it. you declared it to be yours.
the 3D is not manifesting, it has no power and since your body, your brain, your thoughts belong to the human flesh version of you they have no power.
yes, you read that right.
it is not your human version manifesting, it is not your human body and not your brain since like everything else physical it belongs to the 3D.
alia in her physical human form can only TRY to manifest.
the 3D is powerless and so it’s your human body. it is powerless. it can’t do anything,
it can’t make anything happen.
you CANNOT manifest with your human brain.
your human body and all the emotions and thoughts attached to it are just there. they belong to the 3D and are powerless UNLESS YOU (THE INNER MAN, GOD WITHIN YOU) GIVE THEM POWER.
your human self is pathetically powerless. stop giving it so much power by being scared of your own thoughts, emotions and feelings.
YOU aka THE INNER MAN, PURE CONSCIOUSNESS are giving them power.
YOU ARE GOD.
god does not exist outside of you, manifestation is what prayer is because god exists INSIDE of you. it is within you.
it gets me so frustrated when i see people asking me if having it in imagination is enough. and it’s not because i don’t feel for you or i think you’re dumb af (sometimes i do lmao) but it’s because I KNOW how tired you are I KNOOOOWWWWWW how much it sucks to be in this state of trying.
BELIEVE ME WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS SO FUCKING TIRED.
i was constantly in a war in my own mind thinking i had to change my thoughts or constantly look for a specific feeling/emotion. i was SO tired of being scared in my own mind, it’s truly the worst thing ever because there’s no escape. if you feel trapped and scared and you’re constantly trying to prove yourself in YOUR OWN mind THERE IS NO PEACE. there is no escape and you don’t know what to do.
there is no escape because our imagination is all we got and ever will have and if we make that our hell you’re gonna live a miserable miserable life.
i was SO tired of being triggered by the 3D and blaming myself for what i was seeing, i was in a constant self-sabotaging cycle. i was looking outside for permission to just believe when everything is within, even permission to just believe it yes! that’s within you!
and i was wondering what was i doing wrong.. well, news flash alia if you’re tired you’re not in the state you want to be.
i knew manifestation wasn’t supposed to be tiring, i studied my shit! i knew it! but i still found myself trapped in my own mind.
i decided i had to be honest with myself, i had to stop excuses and reason on why and how i was supposed to believe.
“why am i seeing the opposite? why am i seeing just movement and not my full manifestation?”
did you ever really shift your state?
be honest.
be honest with yourself because you don’t gain nothing by lying to yourself.
“well… i feel like i’m doing it right but i still cannot see my manifestation”
are you doing it right? are you?
are you doing it right if you’re acknowledging your manifestation isn’t real just because it isn’t physical?
“i don’t understand why did the opposite happen what am i doing wrong?”
why are you acknowledging the 3D as the real reality? why are you taking ANYTHING the 3D shows you as fact?
did you sit with the concept that imagination/consciousness is the only reality?
did you internalize it?
because if you did you wouldn’t be bothered at all by ANYTHING the 3D is showing you EVER.
no, not even the “positive” things should faze you.
why do you care what the physical world shows you if it literally means nothing?
the 3D is never gonna fulfill you on its own.
that sp coming in, that money in your account, that dream body in the mirror, that dream face, that job is NEVER gonna fulfill you.
YES! NEVER! THE 3D WILL NEVER FULFILL YOU.
harsh truth?
well, it’s the truth.
you could have your sp telling you how much they love you and you could still not believe them.
you could look in the mirror and have that dream body or dream face and still find A MILLION things you want to change and be insecure of yourself.
you could have that dream career and still feel like a failure.
you could have a million dollars in your bank account and still feel financially insecure and unhappy.
why?
because we are always living in imagination no matter what the physical world is showing you.
look back at your life and tell me i’m wrong.
personal examples:
*TW: mention of ED experiences*
i remember when i was a teen i had what some would consider a “dream body” and i still felt ugly, fat and had an eating disorder.
i used to gain and lose weight continuously because i was NEVER satisfied with how i looked, i wanted to be skinny but i was never skinny enough. i wanted to be pretty but i was never pretty enough.
there was ALWAYS something i could change and improve.
i had people complimenting me on my body and on my face, did i care?
did i care even ONE bit?
no i didn’t. no matter how close i was to the beauty standard i was NEVER satisfied with my appearance because i wasn’t accepting it inside.
i believed what I WANTED TO BELIEVE AS TRUE IN IMAGINATION.
yes, i had people telling me “omg you lost so much weight, you’re so skinny!” and i looked in the mirror and still thought “i’m so fat, just a few more pounds and i’ll be satisfied”.
spoiler: i wasn’t.
clearly this is not a fun circumstance to be in and it is mental health we’re talking about but i can make less harsh examples.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
my sp was PURSUING ME and i still saw her as a liar and a manipulator because of my trust issues.
i had her telling me “i want you so bad these other girls are nothing compared to you” and i was whining to my best friend and complaining about how i “simply could not trust her”…
you may ask me “wtf is wrong w you alia why did you think that?”
and idk what to tell you tbh i just trusted “my gut” (aka my imagination 💀) because in my mind there was no way she could be genuine…
poor thing never even did me wrong and i still trusted my imagination so strongly disregarding every cute thing she was telling me.
to the point i was telling her i didn’t wanna be with her and we could never be together because i could never trust her (i had made up in my mind this persona for her that proved to me she was unloyal and not trustworthy) and she would reply to me things like “why the fuck do you not believe me” or “why the fuck do you not want me” and then when she acted according to my script by ignoring me (obviously she would ignore me tf cause eiypo aside why would she want to entertain someone that says “i don’t want you”) i would be like “there you go, i knew it”.
this is funny now because i can see how i always blindly trusted my imagination and had blind faith in it being FACT when it came to the negative things.
if it’s that easy for the negative stuff why would it be any harder for the positive stuff?
why?
because you think that good things never come easy?
because YOU think that you need to work hard to get the good stuff?
who is thinking that?
YOU!
who is making up that assumption?
YOU!
the physical world WILL NEVER be able to provide enough proof for you to believe you are who you want to be unless YOU believe it.
you can’t reason your way into faith and it’s true because i CONSCIOUSLY applied the law properly multiple times (gave myself more than enough proof that this shit works) and still found myself in this state because the proof is never enough if you don’t JUST believe.
read this thread i made:
faith is KEY idk how else to tell you, faith in yourself is the ONLY thing you truly NEED. when you don’t believe that you have what you want simply because you said it you are sinning because YOU ARE GOD.
by lacking faith in yourself you lack faith in god. you are sinning.
i know you want to drop the need to have it in the 3D, i know that deep down you’re desperate to drop the need for it and just believe that having it in imagination is enough.
i know how you are feeling exactly.
you are desperately looking for permission and proof to just believe when you actually should JUST do it.
it’s always gonna be a leap of faith, faith isn’t built, it isn’t something you create, it is something you surrender to.
“but if i stop wanting in the 3D will it ever show up?”
you shouldn’t give a shit about when, if, or how the 3D conforms to what you have inside if you truly and DEEPLY understand that imagination is the only reality.
asking yourself if the 3D will conform if you drop the need for it is batshit crazy bc again THIS IS HOW THE WORLD WORKS.
IMAGINATION EXPRESSED IS ALL THE WORLD IS!!!!
THE PHYSICAL WORLD IS JUST IMAGINATION.
asking yourself if the 3D will conform is the same thing as asking yourself if the apple will fall to the ground if you drop it.
yes, you read that right.
law of assumption is just as real as the law of gravity.
it’s how the world works whether you believe it or not.
idk how else to tell you this but please just allow yourself to surrender, give yourself permission to believe in imagination being the only reality and not needing it in its physical form. because at the end of the day the 3D being “positive” does not equal to true fulfillment.
allow yourself to feel the peace of having it for the sake of feeling good.
give permission to yourself.
“but what if it doesn’t work?”
yeah what if?
what’s the worst that’s gonna happen?
you not getting what you want and that’s the same exact miserable life you’re living now.
now that we’ve established that you have nothing to lose by just believing give yourself permission to do exactly that.
just have faith.
hold your own damn hand.
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⇢ ˗ˏˋ joost klein x tinder date!reader ࿐ྂ
ੈ✩‧₊˚ OCEAN EYES : mention of sex (but no smut) fluff ; use of alcohol ; imagine ; all is fictional ; english is not my first language
(part two)
, , ,
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ CREATING AN ACCOUNT on tinder wasn’t on your to do list, but after another failed attempt on meet your future ‘husband’ in real life, you decided to seek luck at this app. after choosing your best pictures, you set your profile with hope that you wouldn’t have to text with all of those weirdos that probably were on this site, asking themselves why i don’t have girlfriend?
you honestly couldn’t understand people (mostly the whole alfa men) on this kind of platforms, where they acted like they’re better than everyone else, but in reality they wouldn’t even say ‘hi’ to you. also what’s the point of having a dating app, if you can’t even properly ask the other person to date. you personally hated texting, it was the worst way to communicate, because you weren’t able to show your emotions clearly and it was easier to misunderstand the intentions.
you tried to ignore all suspicious looking people, but you lose hope, when even people your type were weird or impolite towards you. you were close to just delete app and forget about everything that happened. but then you received some kind of ‘super like’ from very good looking blonde man, the first thing that caught your attention was his bright blue eyes. how ironic, you thought. blonde hair and blue eyes, if he were a girl, he definitely would be miss universe. but god knew that he would be too powerful if he was a woman.
before you even checked his profile, you saw that he already messaged you. he already had big plus, because it was usually you who needed to start a conversation.
‘you & me, beer in an hour?’ okay, he definitely was really straightforward but you couldn’t tell that you didn’t liked it.
‘okay’
it was an irresponsible decision, but you couldn’t care less right now. you were truly tried of the endless conversations about nothing, you needed some adrenaline in your life. and even if it turn out that he’s a murderer, you will have an interesting story to tell your future kids — of course if you will survive in that scenario.
, , ,
it was almost twenty minutes after the set time, but you still waited like a fool, because you were curious if you were just scammed at this point. when your second cigarette started to slowly gutter out, you checked your phone to see if he tried to inform you about his lateness, but as you thought — nothing. you were honestly irritated that you couldn’t met a proper guy, not even for a relationship but just good sex, apparently you just missed to have someone close, in physical and mental way.
fuck it. you said to yourself and deleted this stupid dating app, right after you did that, you heard someone’s calling your name. before you turned around, you throw out a cigarette.
“i get it that i’m late, but you don’t have to ignore me” you saw the blonde guy in front of you, with two bottles of wine in his hands and two beer cans in his jeans pockets.
“so your real miss universe, nice to meet you” you said with a bit of irony in your voice, and he just laughed, giving you bootle of alcohol.
“or maybe i’m just in your imagination, guess we will never know” he said with smile, and you realised that he loved to laugh a lot, but honestly that was exactly what you needed now. some positive energy. “but now let’s go, shall we?”
, , ,
at first it was supposed to be quick meeting to get each other better and then probably forget about the existence of each other. but to your surprise it turned out that you were sitting in some sketchy looking place with joost for almost four hours already, and the fun only began.
you couldn’t believe that your perfect type of person was right in front of you and he was interested in you, which was the most unbelievable part. he was the first person that could make you laugh only by saying something random, or maybe it was because you were under the influence of weed, that you just smoked. either way his ability to turn every little thing into a joke was hilarious and you simply loved it.
suddenly you both became silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for you, which was also something new. all you could hear was the sound of wind and some other birds but you decided to interrupt the silence.
“you want to come to my place?” you said without thinking twice, well. . . let’s be honest your brain wasn’t working at all at the moment.
“to do what?” he looked at you with his typical smirk, sipping his beer.
“obviously to play monopoly” you said sarcastically, but underneath you had a little smile. “i want you to fuck me” you added and he seemed to be taken aback with your directness, as he watched you getting up.
“so you’re coming or i will need to please myself on my own?” you said, walking slowly in the direction of your house.
“you don’t need to tell me twice” he quickly said and you just chuckled as you felt his hands on your waist.
that was a great match, for sure.
, , ,
⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! hope you liked it!
#joost klein x you#joost klein imagine#joost klein x reader#i love joost#stand with joost#joost x reader#eurovision imagines#imagine#x reader
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Eddie’s missing. Steve can’t form a coherent thought beyond: Eddie’s missing, find him. The last few hours, it’s been his every thought, his every action.
There’s never a smooth visit to Hawkins. Eddie’s reputation has only gotten worse in the years since they moved to Chicago. Every time they come back, something goes wrong. But Eddie wanted to spend Wayne’s birthday with him, which also happens to be his mom’s birthday. That’s why he put on Wayne’s Muddy Waters record after a few drinks too many, mumbling, “Doesn’t sound the same.”
One second, Eddie was drunkenly rocking to the music, then he went outside for a smoke and didn’t come back.
Wayne shouldn’t be out in the cold weather, but nothing could stop him from getting in his pickup to look for Eddie.
Steve’s mind jumps to nightmare conclusions. Eddie still has enemies, maybe they’re finally taking their revenge. Or what if they hadn’t destroyed the gate afterall and something worse took Eddie? Steve’s mind skipped every small explanation, but that detail about Eddie’s mom comes back.
He’s searching backroads and the thought leads him down Philadelphia street. No one goes there anymore, convinced there’s more ‘Munson victims’ buried where Eddie’s childhood home once stood.
Steve sags with relief when he shines the headlights and sees Eddie among the piles of old burned wood.
“Eddie!” Steve’s already jumping out the car, hurrying to him, “Oh God, there you are. What are you doing out here, baby? You okay?”
Eddie doesn’t seem to realize Steve’s there, frantically digging through the rubble. Looking for something.
“Eddie?” Steve reaches him, crouching down next to him, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you hurt?”
Without looking up, Eddie mumbles something like, “Can’t find ‘em.”
“Can’t find what?” Steve asks, keeping his tone soft despite how worried and confused he is. Eddie doesn’t answer. There’s random cuts and splinters on his hands, covered in dirt and soot but he doesn’t slow down. Steve winces at the sight and reaches for his shoulder, rubbing gently to get his attention.
“Eddie, look at me, hey. What is it? You can’t find what?”
Finally, Eddie turns to look at him. Though, his stare is a thousand miles away, eyes wide and bloodshot. The headlights show tear tracks through the soot dirtying his face. It’s like he’s in a trance, still mumbling things Steve can’t quite make out. He can smell the beer on Eddie, but he knows this isn’t just from drinking. Eddie gets stuck in his head sometimes, like in the boathouse all those years ago. Reliving nightmares from '86, and things that happened to him long before that too.
“Her records,” Eddie stresses, “My mom’s records. I left them right here.”
Steve looks down where he points to nothing but charred, rotting wood. There hasn’t been a house here in years. Steve remembers the fire, everyone said Eddie did it just because he was a ‘no good Munson’. Steve didn’t learn the real story until later. Eddie told him about the records, how they burned in 84 when all his dad’s scheming backfired.
“Eddie…”
“They were right here!” Eddie interrupts, almost like part of him knows what Steve’s going to say and he doesn’t want to hear it. “I left them right here and now I can’t find them.”
With a half-choked sob, he turns back to scouring through the rubble.
“Hey, It’s okay.”
“No it’s not. I gotta find them, Steve, they’re all I have of her,” Eddie strangles out, flinching when Steve’s hand slides behind his shoulders.
Steve swallows down the emotion swelling in his chest. Feeling powerless to really do anything, he says, “Okay, we’ll— we’ll find them. It’s okay.”
That’s the only thing that seems to ease Eddie. Though, the way he slumps seems like he knows it’s not true, but lets himself believe it anyway. Just for the comfort.
He’s breathing raggedly, shivering in the cold and every sob rattles his body under Steve’s hand. Finally, he lets himself sink fully into Steve, his cold wet nose pressed to Steve’s collarbone.
“S’all I got. Momma’s music,” he keeps repeating as Steve rubs his back, so drunk and so sad, “Gotta get ‘em back. S’all I got left of her.”
“I know, baby, we’ll find them.” Steve presses kisses into Eddie’s forehead, holding him and rubbing his back. It’s not the truth, Eddie knows that, but he doesn’t need the truth right now. So Steve says it again and again, as long as Eddie needs to hear it. “We’ll find them.”
#sorry again#if you know you know#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#stranger things#rueswriting#mp
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Headcanon with TF141 & König with Fem! Reader who had amnesia after loss blood from battlefield and how would the mens react. Pls!
Oof ouchie owie my heart 😭 this is so mean I love it 😭😭😭😭 (I’m not crying YOU’RE crying)
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:
When the nurse told him you suffered amnesia due to the severity of your injuries, he didn’t want to believe it. He refused. Even though they told him it could last a few minutes to several weeks or months, he didn’t want to believe it.
So he went to visit you, sat beside your bed, balaclava twisting nervously in his hands as he watched you sleep. He eventually dozed off, arms crossed over his chest, head resting back against the wall. He woke up to a soft prodding at his shoulder,
“Excuse me, are you the nurse?” You’d asked, throat hoarse and exhaustion evident.
“Who do you think I am?” He asked, his heart beat so hard in his throat, his stomach churning and heavy, he felt violently ill
“I… don’t know to be honest. I’m not sure why or how I got here.” Your voice was small and uncertain and fuck he wanted to cry. His eyes burned and his throat threatened to shut.
What should he do? Tell you what happened and risk further trauma? He’s the reason you were out here in the first place. What’s the right thing to do? What would you do in his position?
“Sir? I’m sorry, I’m just really thirsty. I’m sorry to bug you.”
“Don’t sweat it, here, have my water.” He uncapped his water bottle and got up to bring it to your lips, you took it from his hands before he could tip it back,
“I’ve got it, thank you.” You said with a weak chuckle. At least that’s still the same. He watched you drink your water, weighing his options in his head. If the roles were reversed, you’d be honest with him. Gentle, but firm. Even if it pained you, you’d tell him the truth.
“I’m sorry, have we met before?”
He was a both a coward and glutton for pain.
“You can call me Ghost, for now.”
He still wasn’t sure if he’d tell you about all the nights spent together, all the mornings you had breakfast in the mess hall together, your apartment that you shared, the tattoo he has under his collarbone of your callsign or the matching one you got of a skull on your hip. This could be his chance to spare you the pain of sticking around him any longer.
But he’s selfish, in that sense. He’s had you, he can’t lose you now.
John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:
He’s devastated. He’s absolutely heartbroken, there’s no way this is happening. He’s convinced it’s not real. It’s a bad dream and he’ll wake up in your arms and it’ll be gone. How he wishes that was true.
He comes into your room, the nurses words echoing in his head, triggering his tinnitus, making him nauseous. His legs are horribly unsteady and his hands have never shook this hard. He feels like such a fool for being so fucking weak in front of you like this.
This isn’t about him, it’s about you. It’s all about you, it’s about setting things right with you, it’s about bringing you back to him. It’s all about you.
He sat beside your bed and waited for you to wake up, and when you did you smiled so wide when you looked at him, that he honestly believed the nurses were wrong
“This might be wildly inappropriate, but you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
God how he wished the nurses were wrong.
“Could say the same for you, love.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and stamped out the ache in his chest
“Love?” You blinked in confusion, “are you my- oh god, I’m sorry, I… I don’t remember.”
“It’s alright, the nurses said it could happen. You’ve been through a lot.”
“If I’m here then, yeah, seems like.” You chuckled dryly,
“I’m Johnny.” He held his hand out to yours, you took it and couldn’t help how soothing his palm felt against yours as you introduced yourself shyly.
He could be strong. For you. He’d do anything for you, whether you wound up remembering or not, it didn’t matter. He’d do anything.
John Price:
He’s shell shocked. Please god no. Not you. Please sweet fucking Christ, not you. He doesn’t go to see you right away, he sits in his office quietly. He’s sitting in the dark, replaying the events that led up to this over and over in his head like a fucked movie on loop.
He snaps. He’s flinging everything off his desk, it’s all flying to the floor, he’s screaming, crying, raging. The team hears it and they all run to his office, Ghost is the only one to successfully hold him back. He eventually gives up and starts sobbing. Perception be damned.
He’s clutching onto Simon like his life depends on it, Soap and Gaz quietly start picking stuff up off the floor,
“Come on, mate, she needs you. Clean up and go.” He’s not stupid. He’s seen you two, seen the way you are with one another. It’s the best kept secret of the 141.
“I know. Fuck, I know.”
He hesitantly walks to your room, his heart pounding a mile a minute, he hears you talking to the nurse and you sound a little hoarse but it also sounds like you’re drinking water. He waits until you’re done talking and walks in, he steps aside to let the nurse walk out and sits beside you,
“How’re you feelin’?”
“Not great but the pain meds help.” You laughed weakly, “and you must be?”
“John.”
“John…?”
“Just John.” He sighed, slowly taking one of your small hands in his, giving you every opportunity to withdraw, “Your John.”
He’s a patient man. He can wait.
Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:
He’s in tears before the nurse even has a chance to walk away, Price has a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in an attempt to keep him grounded
“None of that, Gaz, just go see her. Somewhere in her heart, she’ll be happy to see you.” His words were reassuring and it helped give him the boost he needed to go and see you.
So he did, with an arm full of flowers, your favorite snack and candies, and fruits of course. He came in and set them down at the table quietly, watching you watch him as he did so. He took a deep shaky breath and pulled the chair up to the bed.
“Is that all for me?” You asked with a shy smile, even under the unflattering glow of the fluorescent lights above you, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen,
“Yup. I thought if I’d brought you the things you like, it might help you recover your memory.” He swallowed his tears, swallowed the lump in the throat, he’d set it all aside because there’s work to be done.
“I take it you and I are quite close then?”
“As close as two people can get, without being related.”
“Hm. That makes me happy, you seem really sweet…?”
“Kyle. Or Gaz. But you’ve always called me by my name.”
His heart skipped a beat when you tried his name out, getting a feel for it on your tongue, and then you smiled softly at him.
It’ll be hard work but fuck you’re so worth it.
König:
He feels violently ill. He’s nauseous through and through, he’s in shock, he’s grieving, he’s mourning, he’s furious, he’s appalled, he’s miserable
It’s all playing over and over and over and over again, the exact moments that led up to this. You trusted him and let you down. He fucking let you down. He ruined it. He ruined the one good thing he had going for him in this shithole. It’s gone it’s all fucking gone. And it’s all his fault.
All of that was repeating in his head as he punched a hole in the tile in the bathrooms, it repeated when he’d try to sleep until you woke up, it repeated while he’d wait for you, it repeated until there was nothing but self-inflicted venom pumping in his system, circulating mercilessly
And then you woke up. He’d at least had the presence of mind to take his veil off so he wouldn’t startle you, but in his vitriol he forgot something,
“You’ve got a little something on your uh… all of that.” You sleepily laughed, pointing at your eyes,
“Ah yes, that’s intentional.”
“Why?” You blinked in confusion, weakly trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes,
“Helps keep me concealed when I wear this.” He lifted the veil in his hands for you to see,
“I imagine it’s hard to do with your size.”
“It can be but I’m quite determined.”
“You seem upset, I take it you and I are close and the nurses told you?”
He gently took your small hand in his, his eyes watering, lower lip starting to quiver,
“Oh schatz, you have no idea.” His voice shook and your heart broke for him, his accent brought you peace even if you couldn’t exactly remember why, you could still put the pieces together. You don’t know why, but you wanted to be strong for him,
“Then give me an idea.”
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#soap mactavish x reader#soap mctavish x reader#soap x reader#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#könig x reader#konig x reader#cod x reader#mw2 x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod headcanons
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Paris in John and Paul’s life
30th September 1961:
“John and I went on a trip for his twenty-first birthday. John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It’s ironic, he was always very ‘fuck you!’ and he wrote the song ‘Working Class Hero’ – in fact, he wasn’t at all working class. Anyway, one of John’s relatives gave him £100 for his birthday. A hundred smackers in your hand! That was a real windfall. None of us could believe it. To this day if you gave me £100 I would be impressed. And I was his mate, enough said? ‘Let’s go on holiday.’ – ‘You mean me too? With the hundred quid? Great! I’m part of this windfall.’”
- Paul McCartney, Anthology
“We planned to hitchhike to Spain. I had done a spot of hitchhiking with George and we knew you had to have a gimmick; we had been turned down so often and we’d seen that guys that had a gimmick (like a Union Jack round them) had always got the lifts. So I said to John, ‘Let’s get a couple of bowler hats.’ It was showbiz creeping in. We still had our leather jackets and drainpipes – we were too proud of them not to wear them, in case we met a girl; and if we did meet a girl, off would come the bowlers. But for lifts we would put the bowlers on. Two guys in bowler hats – a lorry would stop! Sense of Humour. This, and the train, is how we got to Paris.
- Paul McCartney, Anthology
“And Paul and I also did the same thing, once. We just cancelled. We’d made it, in Liverpool. We were making good money, for those days. I can’t remember what it was – maybe a couple of hundred dollars a week – but enough that you’d have a little extra. You’d have it in your back pocket. And Paul and I just— A relative of mine gave me a hundred pounds, for my birthday, which I’d never seen that much money in me life. Paul and I just canceled all the engagements, and left for Paris… And George was furious, because he needed the money – to work, you know. But that was another time when the group was in debate as whether it would exist or not.”
- John Lennon, 1976, an interview with Elliot Mintz
“Last night I heard that John and Paul have gone to Paris to play together – in other words, the band has broken up! It sounds mad to me, I don’t believe it…”
- Stuart Sutcliffe, Anthology
“We’d never been there before. We were a bit tired so we checked into a little hotel for the night, intending to go off hitchhiking the next morning. Of course, it was too nice a bed after having hitched so we said, ‘We’ll stay a little longer,’ then we thought, ‘God, Spain is a long way, and we’d have to work to get down there.’ We ended up staying the week in Paris – John was funding it all with his hundred quid.
We would walk miles from our hotel; you do in Paris. We’d go to a place near the Avenue des Anglais and we’d sit in the bars, looking good. I still have some classic photos from there. Linda loves one where I am sitting in a gendarme’s mac as a cape and John has got his glasses on askew and his trousers down revealing a bit of Y-front. The photographs are so beautiful, we’re really hamming it up. We’re looking at the camera like, ‘Hey, we are artsy guys, in a café: this is us in Paris,’ and we felt like that.
We went up to Montmartre because of all the artists, and the Folies Bergères, and we saw guys walking around in short leather jackets and very wide pantaloons. Talk about fashion! This was going to kill them when we got back. This was totally happening. They were tight to the knee and then they flared out; they must have been about fifty inches around the bottom and our drainpipe trousers were something like fifteen or sixteen inches. We saw these trousers and said, ‘Excusez-moi, Monsieur, où did you get them?’ It was a cheap little rack down the street so we bought a pair each, went back to the hotel, put them on, went out on the street – and we couldn’t handle it: ‘Do your feet feel like they are flapping? Feel more comfortable in me drainies, don’t you?’ So it was back to the hotel at a run, needle and cotton out and we took them in to a nice sixteen with which we were quite happy. And then we met Jürgen Vollmer on the street. He was still taking pictures."
- Paul McCartney, Anthology
“Jürgen had a flattened-down hairstyle with a fringe in the front, which we rather took to. We went over to his place and there and then he cut – hacked would be a better word – our hair into the same style.”
- John Lennon, 1963
Interviewer: I heard you took a trip to Spain before once, didn’t you? On Holiday?
Paul: I didn’t go to Spain, no. I tried once to make Spain but… and John and I were gonna hitchhike. We hitchhiked down from Liverpool… We didn’t hitchhike. No, we got the train down from Liverpool ‘cause we thought we won’t hitchhike down the first bit. And we got the boat over to Paris. Then we got the train into Paris ‘cause we thought: “Well, it’ll be too hard to get a hitch here”. And we just stayed in Paris all week. And eventually… I mean, all the time trying to get out of Paris and make Spain! We never made it, we just flew home at the end. What a lazy hitchhiking Holiday!
“The thing was all the kissing and holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic just to be there and see them even though I was 21 and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing. And they weren’t not mauling at each other, they were just kissing.”
- John Lennon
"John’s 21st birthday was a month away, and he knew he was getting money — 100 pounds cash, more than he or Paul had ever seen in their lives. (…) Bob Wooler was party to their planning, and fought with them:
They were bored, and decided they would go away for a month. I thought this was disastrous because they would be away from the scene too long and lose their fans, Fans were very capricious: they moved from one group to another. And anyway, what about the other two members, George Harrison and Pete Best?. What about them, what do they do? We argued a lot about this — we argued in the back room of the grapes pub to a large extent —- and they said ‘Well, we’ll go away for a fortnight only’
(…) Equally, the promoters who paid the Beatles over-the-odds to present them every week had to “lump it” (….). To a man, and woman, they were incensed by it - but John and Paul hadn’t a care. They didn’t mean to be rude about it but basically it was tough shit.
it was tough too on Dot and Cyn, Dot simply had to accept the situation, but Cyn had a greater case of grievance. John was heading off without her when he could so easily gave waited for the art school holidays. (…).
That John was taking Paul, no one else, accentuates the renewed closeness since Stu quit The Beatles. They were the Beatles force, an unstoppable and authentically powerful pair. “Lennon had the attitude”, Wooler said, “and taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were superior human beings”
"You’d always see them together, in the pub or walking along the street", says Johnny Gustafson of the Big Tree. "They were a duo, and seemed each other’s equal". Bernie Boyle, the young lad hanging around with them at every opportunity, says, "They were like brothers, with John as the elder and Paul’s mentor. They were so tight it was like there was a telepathy between them: on stage, they’d look at each other and know instinctively what the other was thinking"
They were brothers. They were the Nerk Twins, and now they were taking a break from The Beatles and gofin off to Spain.
Gustafson happened to bump into them the day they left, Saturday, September 30. “They both had bowler hats on, with the usual leather jackets and jeans. They said they were off to Paris, so I walked down to Lime Street station and watched them go. They were an incredible pair: always great fun, irreverent and so close.
- Mark Lewinsohn, Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years (2013)
As was written in this post: That last picture is one Paul took of John sleeping in Paris. From what I remember of a performance he did of ‘Here Today’, and earlier comments, this picture hangs framed on a wall in Paul’s house.
Unconfirmed quote (may or may not be true):
"He must have been fond of me to spend that money. He let me have all the banana milkshakes I wanted.”
- Paul McCartney
In January 1964, only a few scant weeks before the Beatles took America by storm, the band mates settled in for an extended stay in Paris. For the group, the Parisian visit proved to be a magical experience, with the Beatles playing 18 shows at the Olympia Theatre between Jan. 16 and Feb. 4 (source).
The photo Paul took of John (in the "Eyes Of The Storm" book):
1966: Paul, his girlfriend Maggie McGivern, John and Brian Epstein spend 5 days in Paris.
"All of them flew into France separately — Lennon had been filming abroad and Epstein had been away on business. Maggie and Paul, she says, traveled apart ‘as part of keeping the relationship secret’. During the five-day trip the foursome stayed at the same Paris hotel where she and Paul shared a luxury suite. ‘It was a marvelous holiday,’ she says. ‘. . . just walking around the streets of Paris.‘My abiding memory is of me, John and Paul lying under the Eiffel Tower, gazing up at it. We couldn’t go up because we would have been recognised, and we were masters at the art of avoiding people." [x]
1969:
Hoping to get married in France, John Lennon and Yoko Ono flew to Paris on this day [16th March].
The couple had decided to marry on 14 March 1969, two days after the wedding of Paul McCartney to Linda Eastman; whether it was in response to this event on some level is open to conjecture.
On McCartney’s wedding day Lennon and Ono were travelling to Poole in Dorset, where he introduced her to his Aunt Mimi. During the journey he asked his chauffeur Les Anthony to go to Southampton to enquire about the possibility of the wedding being held at sea, on the cross-channel ferry to France.
(source)
“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible”
- Philip Norman, John Lennon: The Life (2008)
"We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required."
- John Lennon
1974:
“After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”
“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.””
— May Pang, Loving John (1983)
1978:
Wings album "London Town" is released. It includes the song "Cafe on the Left Bank", the lyrics of which clearly refer to John and Paul's trip to Paris.
Late 1970s (maybe 1978?):
John is singing to Paul about Paris in a home recording.
Longer version
1970s: John writes "Skywriting by Word of Mouth", a book that would be released in 1986. One story is about sex he had with a woman in Paris. Here it is.
As anon noticed here: "...the woman is called Amie L'Nitrate and Amyl Nitrate is a reference to poppers. He talks about grabbing her 'pomme de frites.' Her potatoes? He uses the term 'tread lightly on some loafers' which is an old euphenism for being gay. Amie says they should have sex to God Only Knows. Then John says their relationship ended in a seething rage but he still thinks of 'her.'"
@sgtsaltsband concluded in the same post: "so he writes a story about PARIS ( where he and paul went on a trip for his 21st bday and never stopped talking about it ) , in the HOTEL where the Beatles stayed later on , names the girl after POPPERS ( a drug commonly used by gay men during sex ) , the girl wants to have sex to PAULS fave song and he uses this PHRASE."
Also: this is an excerpt of the story:
"Boogie" is a slang word for sex or dance (also, "Born to Boogie" is a 1972 movie starring Marc Bolan, Elton John and Ringo Starr). "Band on the Run" is a Paul McCartney and Wings' album which John loved. "Sue you sue me" can be a reference to to the Beatles' legal and business disputes and the fact that Paul sued John, George and Ringo in December 1970, and to "Sue Me, Sue You Blues", a song by George.
(thank you @menlove for uploading the story and pointing out interesting words!)
1994 - Paul inducting John to Rock and Roll Hall of Fame:
“And then on your 21st birthday you got £100 off one of your rich relatives up in Edinburgh, so we decided we’d go to Spain. So we hitch-hiked out of Liverpool. And we got as far as Paris, and decided to stop there for a week. And eventually got our haircut, by a fellow named Jürgen, and that ended up being the ‘Beatle haircut’.”
I also remember watching an interview with Paul about his album "Memory Almost Full" (2007). Thank you for adding, @ringompreg!
youtube
(it's like 7 minutes in)
Interviewer: There is a very beautiful song called "The End Of The End", the way you talk about your whole ending, and the lyric goes: "It's a start of a journey to a much better place." You mean, better than England?
Paul: It's basically a start of a journey to France. Or Spain through France. Yeah, that's what it is. It's a much better place, Paris.
Also worth mentoning:
"All You Need Is Love" begins with La Marseillaise.
"Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)" contains French-language speech by BBC broadcaster Pierre Le Sève.
#mclennon#mclennon is real#mclennon anthology#paris#frankly i miss paris#may pang#yoko ono#linda eastman#the beatles#gay#bisexual#france#insane#compilation#master post#Youtube
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Trailer park Steve AU part 53
part 1 | part 52 | ao3
cw: sex & spit & sadness; period-typical homophobia
They're on each other the second they get through Steve’s front door. Something charged and taut between them; something begging to be snapped.
It's not gentle — Eddie pushes him against the walls as he walks them toward the bedroom, tearing off clothes and palming Steve's cock just enough to get it hard. Shoves him down onto the bed and preps him quick with messy fingers, mumbling praise into the crook of his neck as he spreads him open, one, then two, then, breathless, “Three.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah,” he groans. “There you fucking go.” Frenzied flicks and thrusts, curling just right at the tip, and when he lines himself up he urges, "Come on, baby, let me in- let me—"
Steve tenses, then lets go. Sets his thoughts to run free in a field of wildflowers, lets himself sink into warm depths where his mind is quiet and his body is in flames and everything is so, so unbearably good. Eddie gives him a second to adjust, and when he moves, Steve moves with him. Earth and moon; tidal force. He plants one foot on the bed to match Eddie's frantic pace, the other leg thrown around his hip, urging him deeper, harder, in in in, and Eddie's fucking him so hard he's sliding up the sheets, so hard he can barely speak, his mouth open on one long, continuous moan.
He can't keep not saying it. He can't keep— he can't— "Eddie," he gasps, whimpering as Eddie angles his hips and strokes in deep, slick skin slapping where their bodies meet. "Eddie, I- unh, oh, fucking god, I lo- lov-"
"Stick your tongue out for me, princess."
Eddie grunts and spits in his mouth. Wet and gross and loud, splashing on Steve’s cheeks and nose, his lips, and he chases it with his tongue; licks over Steve's open mouth and fucks his tongue in deep, then pulls back to slide two fingers in and moan, "Suck my fingers while you come. That's it, honey, that's—" and Steve comes with a hoarse shout.
Eddie follows him right over. Fills him up and stays there; collapses on his chest.
He’s still inside him when the tears start.
Muffled sniffs against Steve’s collarbone, wet and warm and mixing with their cooling sweat, and Steve says, “Hey,” but there's no answer.
Eddie stifles another whimper. Steve drops his arms from his shoulders to his waist. "What's wrong?”
The question feels like putting one foot out over the quarry. Fourteen and tipsy on a dare, smiling real wide as his friends counted down from ten. The cheering, the shoulder grabs, handshakes and pats on the back, and then, and then, alone in the bushes, stomach turning as he realized they had almost let him die.
Eddie shakes his head against him; rolls his forehead back and forth on his shoulder, no and no and no. “I can’t— baby, I’m not… I’m not good.” His voice cracks, and he gives a low moan, pained and drawn out like he’s fighting off a fever. “I’m a fucking black hole.”
There's no fight in his voice — no hint of hysteria, no sing-song sarcasm, no boisterous breath. He goes soft and slips out, and it's just empty. Just dead. Speared through by the ruthless roots of old grief, and now some deep, hollow misery churns ugly truth like solar flares, the words blackened and raw and wholeheartedly believed.
And Steve wants to laugh, because he’s the black hole. He’s the rotten thing sucking Eddie into orbit. Eddie’s the brilliant star stuff spinning past his dark horizon. “No,” he says simply, squeezing his arms tighter around him. “No.”
They lie in silence for a while. Breathing out of rhythm, hearts thudding against each other's chests. Eventually Eddie falls asleep, and Steve rolls him over and tucks them in, cleans them up with a discarded t-shirt.
He stays awake for a long time; stares at the ceiling, a question tearing at his mind — a jagged thumbnail worming under the edge of a too-fresh scab:
What happens when two black holes collide?
He’d asked that once. In middle school. Raised his hand in science class, and Mr. Clarke had called the question intriguing, and Tommy H. had called him a fag. ‘Only nerds care about space shit,’ he’d taunted during recess, ‘I mean, what are we, eight?’
Steve sometimes wishes that he was still.
Wishes things could be that easy.
Wishes, more than anything, that he didn’t wake up alone.
—
part 54
tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)
happy endings only i promise!!
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So when I wrote down that Big Undertale Meta Post about how Sans probably doesn’t remember RESETs at all and why that’s cool - I got a lot of responses to the tune of ‘that’s probably canon but I’m still gonna enjoy Sans Remember fics because of the angst’. And, well... first I want to emphasize that those are very good and correct responses! Like ‘I acknowledge might or might not be in the text but I am also gonna explore alternative ideas Because I Enjoy Them’ is a Good Damn Position to have! Transformative Fandom is Transformative on purpose! Engage with the text and it’s various analyses but don’t let it chain your creativity or fun!
It’s just that… all of the people saying that they prefer Sans Remembering ‘for the Angst’ make me think that maybe folks are kinda ignoring the incredible angst potential of Sans NOT remembering.
My original post focused on how cool it is that Sans manages to be so on-top-of-things even though he doesn’t remember anything - but let’s not ignore the fact that this situation is also grim as shit.
Through some mysterious super-science or whatever, Sans has managed to discover that his timeline is being RESET and altered constantly (before the Player came along, Flowey had already managed to basically 100% the entire Underground) and he has no memory of what's going on and what exactly is being altered.
He knows he might’ve gone through the same day over and over and over again thousand times but he’s simply not aware of it. It’s all the helplessness and lack of forward momentum of a classic timeloop and none of the benefits of memorizing occurrences or acquiring extra information. That’s exactly the thing that drove him into his depressive spiral.
That line always strikes me. It’s like… Sans suspects that without the meddling of capricious immortal time gods, he’d be a much happier and motivated person. But he doesn’t know for sure, because he can’t remember how he was in some distant ‘original timeline’. He is essentially fighting to avenge a version of himself that might not even be real.
Like, yes, it is very impressive and badass how well Sans trained himself to notice every tiny little hint that might indicate that a RESET happened - but it’s impressive because the deck is stacked so heavily against him. And it is very impressive and badass how Sans managed to turn his weaknesses into strengths during his Boss Battle - but it’s impressive because these are usually huge weaknesses. Trying to work to solve a timeloop that you can only infer is going on through context clues is quite a hopeless and desperate mission!
Another bit in the Sans fight that I often think about is his unique reaction if you kill him and then RESET to Fight him again.
With how skilled he is at reading expressions, Sans probably knows what that ‘weird expression’ means, he knows the Player killed him once before and is here to try again. And yet he still goes along with the same attack plan he has, the one he knows killed him in that previous timeline. Why? Because he doesn’t know where the flaw in his plan was exactly, he can’t even begin to guess. So he has no choice but to go along with the plan he knows did kill him, because that’s the only thing he has.
You know, the thing about Sans, is that he always plays his cards very close to his chest. It’s very hard to tell what exactly he’s thinking. That’s probably why so many people do believe he remembers RESET. If any non-Flowey character remembered RESETs, only Sans would be remotely able to hide it so well. But for me? It makes me wonder how much of his Troll who Knows Too Much persona is a bit of an act as well.
You know, Sans’ deduction requires some keen observational skills - does he ever second-guess his conclusions? Living on constant high-alert that something has been reversed or that someone knows something they shouldn’t requires fostering a lot of paranoia, and that can’t be healthy for him. Is he ever overcome with doubt on whatever something was really an indication of a timeline RESET or not? How does he feel when he realizes something horrible happened on a previous timeline (for example, his brother dying) but he doesn’t know about the context to feel sure that he can stop it from happening again?
I also think about it in terms of his relationship to Papyrus in general. Sans tends to hide so many things from Papyrus, especially in timelines where the Player is particularly kill-happy...
In part it’s about his perception that Papyrus’ kindness and pacifism is born from naïveté and thus the only way to preserve it is to hide the cruelty and harshness of the world from him (Undyne also does that). But also, with the paranoia and helplessness Sans lives in every day - is it any wonder that he might believe that ignorance is bliss?
I do truly think it’s beautiful how fandom can experiment with cool non-canon ideas! There are probably so many great emotional angsty ideas tied up to Sans remembering RESETs! I just feel it’ll be a shame if people ignore just how dire and depressing Sans’ canon situation also is!
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This is a call to action for all the PJO girlies (gender neutral) that I know are sleeper agents on this webbed site
Go read Trials of Apollo. Go do it. Do it right now.
I know what you’re thinking. “Tbh I didn’t love Rick’s writing towards the end of Heroes of Olympus” “There’s no Percy so why bother” “All of the Argo II crew are kinda OOC” and listen my friends. You are so valid to have those opinions. I felt the same way after Blood of Olympus. But listen to me. Look at me.
Now that you have had some time away, you must give these books another try. For me. For Uncle Rick. For the demon baby grain spirit who is only able to say his own name (Peaches).
Do not worry friends, I do not expect you to read just based on my say-so - I also provide:
A list of reasons why you (yes you) should go read the Trials of Apollo series right now gogogo:
(Spoiler warning - all broad plot things that you learn early on, but I know some people (including me) avoid that shit at all costs)
All the chapters are titled in bad haiku. Ya know that one scene in Titan’s Curse where Apollo just starts reciting apropos of nothing? That’s every chapter title. They’re all so bad it’s amazing.
Apollo is so up his own ass about everything, and it’s so cool to experience the same world through the eyes of someone who is not used to being in amongst the chaos
Oh yeah the plot. That’s a reason to read it.
Okay so
Basically Zeus continues his streak of being a shitty shit parent and decides to blame like… every bad thing that has happened on Apollo, and punish him by turning him mortal and enslaving him to a demigod girl named Meg who is a garbage gremlin with a little demon baby guard named Peaches (see above)
And like the A plot is they gotta save the oracles from shitty old Romans who wanna take over the world (stop me if you’ve heard this one before)
But like the B plot is about what it means to discover that you’ve fucked up, you’ve made mistakes, you’ve hurt people, and you gotta fucking own up to that shit
But also
You do not deserve to be punished for every horrible thing that has ever happened because of you, or even around you, and when a parental or authority figure in your life tells you that, they are an abuser and they are wrong
And yet
It can be so hard to fully separate yourself from them. Because for so long, they were all you had.
But that’s okay, because when you start to learn that the people who were supposed to care for you and love you were not actually doing that, there are people around you who will love you, who will support you, who will pick you up and hold you close and make sure you know that you are okay
And they can’t fix you
But they can give you the safe space to fix yourself
hmm that was an essay about themes and metaphors BUT THATS WHY YOU SHOULD READ IT
also there’s a wikipedia arrow who only speaks in Elizabethan prose (in all caps)
OH ALSO ALSO you get to see Will and Nico being a CUTE AS FUCK couple in the first book. Nico smiles. Also makes skeletons grow out of the ground when people annoy him. Fuck I love this little gay death boy so much.
AND. You get to see so MANY of your old friends. And they still! Get! Plot! And! Character! Development!! Even though they are only there for a little bit
OH OH OH there are two old lesbians who run a halfway house for people who are tangled up in magic shit with nowhere else to go
Did I mention Peaches? I did. He’s my favorite.
OH ALSO. This is “unreliable narrator” executed SO FUCKING WELL. Like, all narrators are unreliable. But Apollo used to be a FUCKING GOD. He has not had to deal with the reality of death all that much. He’s used to people praising his name and bowing down at his feet. But that ain’t happening!! And he is Unhappy about that!! But it also lets there be such a clear juxtaposition between what Apollo believes about himself and about the world and what is really true, which is such a wonderful way to write about recovery from trauma.
Ahem
Anyway it’s just real good Uncle Rick continues to knock it out of the park but he just did something different and we (at least I) needed some space from OG PJO fan brain before I could appreciate how fucking awesome this series is.
OH OH OH and if you like audiobooks Robbie Daymond (hello CR mutuals - yes, this is the one who is our beloved Blue Boi who we (Orym) so desperately need returned) is the audiobook narrator and he is. So fucking good. Absolutely NAILS the dramatic-ass-inner-monologue of this dramatic ass ex-deity. Also nails all the other voices as well. 15/10 audiobook narration I’m lichrally gonna go listen to other books JUST cuz he reads them.
okay why the fuck are you still here. GO. GET THESE BOOKS. If your public library does Libby you can absolutely get them on there. GO FORTH.
#trials of apollo#toa#rick riordan#uncle rick#pjo#percy jackson#pjo apollo#peaches the karpos#robbie daymond
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