#ramblings of a reader

[readerofoddities]

I'm a sucker for fancy "ooohhh space/tarot card" symbolism for the winners

BUT

Joel being that fuck ass car is hilarious and I want it to be a thing

Just imagine it:

The sun, the stars, the moon, etc and then... CAR

Everyone gets a fancy illustration or smth and then it's just a scribble of Joel driving his car with the biggest grin on his face

It also fits with how unserious this season felt. So this season's winner deserves an unserious symbol

I've decided, actually. As the leader of the winner's symbolism council (/j) I've decided that Joel MUST be a car

Anyways, I need to go draw my seasonly drawing of the winner

[rememberwren]

Thinking about how when you’re drunk—and I mean really drunk—you get it in your head to catcall men. They could use a little harassment. When you reach that point, your friends immediately know it’s time to cut you off, acting like the Secret Service as they usher you out of the bar and towards the Uber. But they couldn’t anticipate the group of men standing outside the bar swapping laughs and smoking.

Of course you pick the scariest one of the lot and:

“Hey!” you shout, half giggling. “Hey—you, in the mask!”

The man turns. You can’t see his mouth with the surgical mask in place but you can tell his eyebrows are raised. He’s fucking huge, towering over his counterparts (who are nothing to sniff at), thick and strong. His head cocks in silent question.

“Can I get your number?” you shout, licking your friend’s hand when she slaps it over your mouth. All your friends rush to brush the guy off, but he’s already ashing his cigarette under his boot, slipping his hands into his pocket, and crossing the street quietly.

He stays a healthy distance away, aware of how it looks: a man his size approaching a group of young, inebriated women. You think he’s come to harass you in return, or maybe just to mock you—either way you are stunned silent, mouth agape, eyes wide. He’s so much taller up this close.

“Got a pen?” he asks.

He only approaches then, shoulders hunched to make himself appear smaller and innocuous. He takes your hand in his own and writes his phone number on your forearm.

When you wake up hungover the next morning, his number is there on your arm along with a reminder that you hadn’t been able to see in the dim lighting of the parking lot: XXX-XXXX—S. Drink water.

[ayyy-pee]

waking up freezing and shivering, teeth chattering every night because your husband is a blanket hog. you know it's not on purpose. he just can't help it. doesn't even know he does it most times. you'd think after years together you'd be used to it, but waking up curled into the fetal position as you try to retain even a smidge of warmth is something you don't think you'll ever adjust to.

so you reach behind you, feeling your spouses large form wrapped snug as a bug in your shared blanket and you grip onto the fabric. you pull as hard as you can but you don't manage to move him even an inch. you try once more...same result.

"ken..." you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself. no response. "kento..."

he doesn't budge. you're tempted to just get up and go grab another blanket, but your husband, despite his seriousness, can get quite pouty when you do that. so you tap him hard instead sure to jab him in the spot you know is his most sensitive. this seems to do the trick as he grunts in response.

"I'm cold," you tell nanami and he sits up quickly, realizing what he's done. his pajama top hangs off one shoulder. his blonde hair is pointing every which way and sleep is heavy on his eyelids, threatening to weigh him down again any minute.

"I'm sorry, love," nanami speaks, voice rough and deep with exhaustion, but the sincerity in his apology clear.

then he's throwing the blanket back over you both. only he adds in a little extra warmth as he wraps his arm around your waist and throws a large leg over your body.

nanami buries his face in your neck, adjusting himself so that he can be as close to you as possible. only a few seconds pass before you hear his light snoring behind you. and you know the warmth you feel is from more than just his touch.

[starsofang]

Simon didn’t like to hold you. He liked to be held.

At first, you didn’t understand why he’d turn his back to you in bed without saying anything. You thought you’d done something to him, or maybe he was in a bad mood. You couldn’t be any more wrong.

Simon Riley, an absolute brute of a soldier, was silently asking for you to be the big spoon. You nearly didn’t believe it when he finally brought it to your attention.

He was too embarrassed to ask you, so he’d resort to flipping on to his side and wait. And wait. Until he realized you didn’t catch the memo, even after many hopeless attempts.

In his mind, he thought being the big spoon would somehow convince you he wasn’t manly enough, as if his title in the service or his pure stature wasn’t proof enough of his masculinity.

To him, being held was a blanket of security. Where he’d always have to watch his back out on the field, both literally and metaphorically, he didn’t have to keep an eye out at all times with you. It was a chance for him to find solace in a person, and when he explained this to you, he was surprised to find you so willing.

And oh, when it happened, Simon nearly kicked himself for holding back on verbalizing it for so long.

The warmth of your arms when they wrapped around him from behind, your face buried between his shoulder blades, legs tangled in his, he thought that this was what inner peace felt like.

He was silly to think you’d ever be the one to judge him for what most deemed ‘unmasculine’. In all of his broad glory, he felt safe the moment you held him, like a child does when they feel a mother’s embrace except it was from someone he loved dearest to his heart.

And you? You found that being the big spoon was rather enjoyable when the man you’re holding was so damn comfortable to snuggle up to. It was a win-win for you both.

You just wished he wasn’t an idiot that left you wondering all those hopeless nights until the truth came out.

[etirabys]

can anyone find me that mesopotamian clay tablet telling you to marry a party girl because she'll bring you joy

[onlinedolly]

nanami who secretly gets off to being so much older then you, his cock twitching whenever you remind him of the gap between your ages. he loved having you clinged around his arm in public, a subtle ego boost as he watched how people reacted. he pretended to be better then that, rolling his eyes everytime satoru said something crude. you were barely in university when he had gotten with you and didn’t like the way his cock stirred when gojo joked about ‘robbing the craddle.’ he just couldn’t help it, not when you were so young and pretty. not when you got so shy when he worked his cock into you, something an older more experienced woman would never do. the thought itself could make him cum, knowing you were innocent and shy and young.

nanami would just love his younger girlfriend so much 🤒

[hellishattempt]

nanami kento comes home on a saturday afternoon, hands full of groceries and hair freshly cut. in the distance, he hears his precious wife humming along to her favorite soundtrack. you must not have heard him come in. he smiles to himself, setting the groceries on the counter, but not unloading them. that can wait. right now, he wants to hold you.

he slips out of his shoes, padding quietly to the laundry room where you are folding towels. you have your back to him, headphones lodged in your ears. as nanami gets closer, the music bleeding from your headphones becomes audible. he chuckles softly. no matter how many times he tells you it's bad for your ears, you insist on listening to your music at just below full volume.

snaking his arms around your waist, you jump at the sudden contact. nanami presses his chest against your back as you take out your headphones, leaning into his touch. you sway in silence for a moment, nanami resting his chin on your shoulder. when you turn to face him, your expression changes at the sight of his hair.

"your hair," you state dumbly. "you cut it."

"yes," your husband muses. "is there something wrong with it?"

"no, no!" you assure nanami, studying his hair. "i just wasn't expecting it. you normally have me do it, which you know i don't mind doing."

"i know, but i didn't want to bother you on your cleaning day."

your expression softens at his words. nanami, your ever loving, ever caring husband, always thinking about you before himself. you reach one hand up, smoothing the hair down the back of his neck. as you bring your hand up, the freshly cut hair pricks your palm, and nanami lets out a low hiss.

you immediately apologize, pulling away. "did that hurt?"

"yes, but it's okay. it felt... good," nanami confessed. "... do it again. please." his voice is thick and demanding, and you obey without hesitation.

this time, you use just the tips of your fingertips to graze his undercut, beginning at the base of his neck. his breathing quickens as you continue to to run your hands through his undercut, going up and down, switching from one hand to both, thumbs caressing the sides of the cut. the laundry room fills with his melodic whimpers and faint groans. his eyes are shut tight, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"fuck..." he cusses lowly.

"you okay, nani?" you giggle, stopping momentarily. his eyes flash open, pupils blown. "kento?"

"let's go to the bedroom," he insisted, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the master bedroom. you barely have time react before nanami pushes you back on to the bed, practically ripping your leggings off.

"kento, what are you doin-" you try to protest, his hands clamping around your wrist and bringing them down to grip his hair. his head disappears between your leg, lips latching around your clit. involuntarily, your fingers tighten around his sharp undercut. he moans into your cunt, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body.

from then on, nanami kento always got an undercut.

[luna-andra]

Sukuna rolling his eyes at you after watching you struggle to open your fruit snack pack for less than a minute. He snatches it away from your useless hands and easily tears it open for you. The crinkling of the bag was irritating him, that's why he helped you. But you still give him a peck on the cheek, making him turn away with a grumble about how much of a brat you are.

[suiana]

yandere! mr crawling who is super duper clingy and never wants to let you go ☹️ he'll actually sob and cry if you ever as much as leave him alone for just a second. what do you mean you need to leave him??? no you don't! if it's something you can't do with him, you don't need to do it at all!

yandere! mr crawling who will unintentionally emotionally manipulate you. he'll cry and ask if you hate him, begging you to stop trying to leave or he'll be devastated. it's not his fault, he can't help it! he just gets so emotional when it comes to you... please never leave his side, okay?

yandere! mr crawling who thinks you're the absolute cutest and most perfect thing ever! okay, so what if you tried to kill several people?? you can do no wrong in his eyes ❤️ if you wanted to kill them, then they definitely deserved it!

yandere! mr crawling who gets you things that you like. oh you like that crowbar? here's like 5 more of them! :333 do you like them? yes? ok praise him please! he loves getting praised byyou. oh! oh! pat him too! he absolutely loves it when you run your hands through his hair and ruffle him >___< it makes him feel so wanted and loved by you.

yandere! mr crawling who just wants to be loved by you. please don't raise your voice at him, and definitely don't hate him ☹️ he'll be cute for you! you don't like scary things? he's trying to find ways to make himself less scary, all for you. just don't push him away. please.

[pastelclovds]

“til the bed breaks”

[simply-ewok]

rolling over, half asleep, in the middle of the night and when you stretch your arm out you end up smacking ghost in the face, and you can’t help but fling yourself back with a loud gasp before realizing it’s just your man, who yet again, snuck inside and cozied up to you without stirring you (bc he hates waking up his baby) bc he was able to come home early and chose to surprise you. and after you relax and begin apologizing for hitting him you hear his low, growly chuckle as he sits up to pull you into his chest, kissing your forehead before mumbling into your sweet smelling hair “it’s all right lovie, di’n’t mean to scare you.”

[readerofoddities]

Congrats to Spirk, the first ever slash fic ship, on becoming canon

I love a great ending for a ship where they're old as hell

[rxmye]

" 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐊 — a confident athlete who turns into pathetic putty at the thought of you . . .

nsfw / sixteen + content / smut / gender neutral reader / yandere content / sub!yandere / masturbation / pervert yandere (he literally breaks into the locker room for your shit) / olfactophilia/osmolagnia (scent/smell kink) / dacryphilia (kink for crying) / breath play / yandere oc x reader

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: haven't wrote smut in awhile, so im a bit rusty . . .

Lucas dangled the keys in his hands, a grin playing on his face as he walked towards the locker room—using the key to unlock the door—it was pretty easy grabbing the keys from the janitor's room, not that this school was particularly secure with their locks. It would be pretty easy breaking in, if he tried hard enough . . 

Lucas scanned the area, looking through each locker trying to find which one was yours . . he had your lock combination memorized, though he did get a little help from a friend in order to figure it out.

His hands reached for the clothes that you had left in your locker, lifting it up to his face, eyes going half lidded as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, he felt his face growing warm and his body growing weak. Lucas leaned down onto the lockers for support, almost losing balance as he slid down onto the floor.

Lucas pressed the flimsy piece of clothing further onto his face, engulfing himself in your smell—so much so that he could almost taste you—all the while his other hand travelled downwards, clumsily unbuckling his pants in a hurry . . hasty movements contradicted his rational mind, not bothering to care if he'd get caught.

He slid his pants down, just enough to reveal his semi-hard cock—a soft whine escaped him at the feeling of the cold air—his free hand now teasing his tip, as he relaxed his body, closing his eyes shut . .—imagining how disgusted you'd be seeing him in this pitiful state— . . that really turned him on, he cussed under his breath at how pitiful and pathetic his thoughts were . .

Lucas wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly moving his hand up and down—his vision growing hazy—as he let out breathy sighs of pleasure—whines growing louder when he moved his hand faster.

Lucas stuffed the clothing he took, and pushed it into his mouth—drool escaped the corners of his mouth—blocking his ability make a sound, as he moved his hand faster around his cock—little tear droplets stinging his eyes, as he felt his legs shake slightly at the sheer pleasure—he used his now free hand to pinch his nose, closing his only source of air . . .

All he could taste was you, the clothing taking away all the moisture in his mouth, as tears begin to escape his eyes, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his clothing—his legs began to convulse—his back arching slightly, as he finally came, all over the floor . . .

Lucas spat out the fabric, "fuck", the bell rang . . How is he gonna clean up this mess fast enough? . .

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[captain-hawks]

iwaizumi's favorite shirt is a faded old oversized godzilla tee that he's had since high school. the navy blue fabric has gone nearly threadbare in some places, the neck has certainly seen better days. and there's a finicky hole that needs to be re-sewn in one of the armpits before it gets too out of hand again.

oikawa, mattsun, and makki all learned the hard way at one point or another that one does not borrow iwaizumi's godzilla t-shirt—not even when one is camping and "iwa-chan, you're the only one who has a spare dry shirt left, and it's freezing out, you stingy bastard!"

so when you pad over to the front door early one fall morning to let the boys inside while iwaizumi finishes packing for their hike, you're met with several curious and somewhat dumbfounded stares when they see the shirt you're wearing as pajamas.

“IWA-CHAN, YOU FINALLY DID IT?!” oikawa calls out suddenly.

“does this mean i don’t have to keep it a secret anymore?” makki exhales in relief, fist-bumping mattsun.

“let me see the ring, he wouldn’t show me,” oikawa gestures impatiently toward your hand. “he’s had it for months.”

you blink in confusion. oikawa looks down at your very empty ring finger and also blinks in confusion.

“out. right now. all of you with your big, dumb, giant ugly mouths, get out,” iwaizumi barks from somewhere behind you.

it’s only once the front door swings shut and the entryway goes quiet that you finally turn around.

—and you find your boyfriend on one knee, his shirt halfway on and toothpaste smeared on his cheek.

“i did have this entire thing planned out for later tonight,” he sighs, smiling up at you, the diamond in his hand reflecting in the soft morning light.

(at the wedding, oikawa’s speech is a 5-minute monologue about how a 14-year-old iwaizumi once told him—after punching him in the face for trying to steal that very shirt from his closet—that the only other person he’d ever let wear it would be his future wife.)

[artdolliewishes]

Deuce, mistaking Epel for a girl: What’s a girl doing at an all boys school?!

Ace: Moron, there aren’t any girls officially enrolled here.

Grim and fem Yuu who’s cross-dressing to avoid trouble:

[lostagoodcigar]

Been thinking abt retired price a lot

Outside doing yard work, all but barking at you to stay your ass inside cause he’s got it.

Perching up behind him on the couch to rub his shoulders, joints aching because military service and age seem to be worse on certain days.

If you still work, John will grumble every few days about how “you don’t need to work love, can take care of ya.” Which you know and assure him of that as you kiss him while getting out of bed. He’ll sit in the bathroom as you get ready, make you your preferred morning drink and maybe even pack your lunch.

“John you don’t need to-“

“Least I can do, not jus’ gonna sit around and let my pretty wife have a million things to do.”

Grumbles about gaining weight every time you make a meal, which is most nights. Seeing John a bit softer around the edges puts your mind at ease. It’s not often he gets strung up on how he’s not as cut as he used to be, but when he does you spend a few hours assuring him with kisses and then some that, “Love the way you look John- part of the whole marriage plan I had actually. Needed a nice body pillow.” Which earns a chuckle, before you’re bouncing in his lap murmuring how much you adore him and like treating him well.

Being the host for the get together dinners John drags the 141 into. An excuse to see his boys again, and an excuse to show off the pretty thing he gets to see everyday.