#this whole sentence is brainrot

[elposting]

tortured poets department is so snl au connor summer 2016

[drenched-in-sunlight]

wtf DLC Eng translation... In the original JP version, Messmer's armor states that he made himself a symbol of fear "for the sake of his mother's wish" (same wording as "Marika made these flask for Messmer's sake").

It's a 100% no ambiguity confirmation that he did that on his own free will.

母の願い、粛清の聖戦のために -> for the sake of his mother's wish and (for the sake of) the purging crusade Messmer made himself a symbol of fear. 嘆きも、呪詛も、ただ私だけを責めればよい -> you can blame your lamentations and curses on me alone.

it's a direct reference to Marika's wish stated in Golden Braid description: 彼女が何を祈り、願い、告解したのか知る者は誰もいない (which makes sense with my theory she wishes for vengeance for what had been done to her people).

remember Genichiro? his "for Ashina's sake i will endure any burden i will shred humanity itself" ? it's the exact sentence structure (no tame ni)

why the Eng ver keeps translating these things in a long ass timey whimey way and in this case throwing in some crazy ambiguity about whether he was willing or not... and now we have a bunch of ppl screaming she made him do it among English version player base...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

okay wait laughingstock concept Incoming: so im imagining some of the neighbors (maybe Julie & Frank) noticing that Barnaby & Howdy are a lil fruity, yk yk. and Julie's like damn, i guess we have to play matchmaker here.

so naturally they wind up getting the whole neighborhood involved. everybody's a wingman here. Poppy's dropping hints when Howdy drops off groceries, Wally is constantly asking Barnaby to go get him things from the bodega, etc etc. Howdy and Barnaby are facing this sudden change in town-wide behavior with slight concern and bemusement

eventually - lets say Julie, Sally, and Wally - get Barnaby into the bodega and then abruptly leave like "don't have too much fun without us you two *wink wink nudge nudge*". once they're gone (read: very obviously hiding outside & watching through the window) Barnaby & Howdy turn to each other like:

Barnaby: you think we should tell them we're already married?

Howdy: let them have their fun - they'll figure it out eventually

[inlovewithaspiderguy]

I’ve been meaning to watch this for some time and I finally did. it’s goddamn hilarious

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Further evidence (not that we needed any) that the Forspoken brainrot has taken over my brain is that any time I see an #aesthetic landscape photograph I have to fight back the urge to tag it with which region of Athia it reminds me of

I might stop resisting tbh

[beneathashadytree]

EATEN ALIVE - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : biting, Sylus likes feeling his lover’s weight, neck kisses, BDSM mention, implied scent kink, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : spicy fluff <3

Word count : 0.9K words

Additional notes : This brainrot is a result of that one homescreen interaction where you give him his palm and he bites you, and that one bond story where he’s sitting on the couch reading at some point. The image drove me a lil crazy😵‍💫 Also this was inspired by the song Eaten Alive by Diana Ross 🙏🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

“Another book on firearms?” they asked, leaning over him to get a glance at what he was reading.

Sylus didn’t look up from the page, glasses perched on his nose and legs crossed underneath his silk robe in the picture perfect image of regal serenity. The only acknowledgment he gave them was a hum, before simply saying, “Not this time,” and returning to his quiet laser-focus.

Annoyance flashed behind their eyes at his complete ignoring of their presence in front of him. And to make matters worse (or in this case, simply more irritating), from their position they couldn’t even read a single sentence upside down. “Aren’t you gonna tell me, then?”

At that, a smirk touched his lips, knowing that he got the desired reaction from them. “You do know that curiosity killed the cat, right?” The look in his eyes was every bit as fierce as it was taunting. “You seem hell-bent on using up all your nine lives.”

Bastard. He loved to tease them relentlessly, didn’t he?

Snapping the book shut with one hand, he pushed it aside face-down. He was taking all the possible measures to make sure they wouldn’t be able to read the title, it seemed. Would a kick to his shins procure the answer they wanted?

Before they could think of another tactic, he clasped their hand in his, unceremoniously tugging them down onto his lap. Yelping as he caught them off-guard, they barely managed to balance themself over him, hovering a little as they tried not to crush him—something he must’ve noticed, given the way he arched his eyebrow at them.

“Put your whole weight on me. I like that.” Sylus’ grin was wicked as he said that, but it was all parts tempting, luring them in like it always did. Maybe it was a figment of their imagination, but they could’ve sworn that they saw his eyes gleam brighter as they settled down properly in his lap. “That’s it, sweetie,” he purred, his hands quick to seek purchase in the fat of their hips.

His touch leaving a burning ache in its wake, he gently caressed every inch of skin he could reach. The hem of their top raised, nimble fingers dancing over their back and trailing over paths he’d long-memorized, he looked like he was truly enjoying the way their breath hitched in their throat, and how they squirmed against him.

“You’re too much,” they managed to huff out, trying their best to school their expression to one of indignation. “Weren’t you… just acting like I was distracting you?”

“A welcome distraction, if anything.” His free hand came up to remove his glasses, a mischievous look in his eyes. “If you hadn’t come for me, I would’ve gone looking for you in a bit anyways.” As though swearing his honesty, he pulled them closer and began pressing open-mouthed kisses against their neck, softly sucking at the warm skin. With every nip of his teeth, he earned a hiss of pain-pleasure, and a jolt of their hips bringing them closer to his. “You taste divine,” he groaned into their neck. “Smell so good too.”

“Hey.” It was supposed to sound admonishing, but it came out as a half-moan, half-whisper. “Stop trying to keep me off-track.” But were their words convincing, when they were writhing in his lap just at his kisses like that? “You’re… hah… avoiding me.”

“‘M not.”

Another kiss, this time at the junction of their jaw and neck, earning a small cry of his name, and that snapped them out of whatever daze they’d been trapped in. With a push to his chest, they managed to pry him off and cover his sinful mouth with their hand, though it seemed that it only spurred on the desire brewing in his scarlet eyes.

“Answer my question.” Panting and their head swimming, it was a wonder they were able to say anything coherent at all. “What were you reading and so hell-bent on hiding?”

As Sylus chuckled into their palm, he merely reached out a finger to drag the book in, quickly flipping it back up.

‘Screw the Roses, Send Me Thorns.’

Oh.

Pure delight danced in his eyes as he relished in their expression as realization dawned on them. Taking advantage of that split-second of their shock, he caught their hand in his, and bit into it—lightly, but just enough to sting in that way he knew deep down they liked so much.

Jumping, they were quick to snatch their hand away from his mouth, cheeks burning with warmth. Before they could even think of snapping at him, he’d licked his lips, as though savoring the taste of them that lingered.

It was all too hot, all at once and in all the most dangerous places of their body.

“I didn’t want to scare you off,” he coolly said, leaning back against the back of the leather couch and eying them with a practiced sultry-sweet gaze.

A promise lingered there; a promise of a forbidden fruit dangling right before their eyes and practically begging to be stolen and feasted on. Their hands itched to take him for themself, but would they do that without being devoured first? A chilling thought, and yet… the warmth in their core seemed to anticipate the moment either of them would snap and give in wholly.

Sylus quietly laughed at their heavy silence and glazed over eyes. At that moment they knew, that they’d fully played right into his hands where he’d wanted them. “But… judging from your reaction, I guess my worries were all in vain, hmm?”

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[hotpinkstars]

GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance. 

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form. 

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

(18+) horny brainrot & hcs about the men I write for..

includes: bucky barnes, logan howlett, matt murdock, miguel o’hara, moon boys, peter quill, pietro maximoff, spencer reid, tangerine

fem!reader, mdni

cw. mentions of edging, blow jobs, dry humping, cock warming, oral (f receiving) fingering/ clit play, pinv sex

bucky barnes: likes to eat you out after you've had a bad day. he likes to listen to you try to formulate words describing the details of your day while his tongue flicks over your clit - the feel making your mind blank and hazy. he loves listening to you restart your sentences over and over and over because you keep cutting yourself off with noises - with moans

.

logan howlett: likes to play with your clit while he’s fucking you. palm resting on your public bone, thumb extended down to your clit — the motion slow and unrushed. each little circle and swirl matches the pace of his strokes, his cock fucking into you. the sensation of his dual touch earning him all your beautiful sounds and noises. every little one acting as fuel, as his momentum to keep going for you.

.

matt murdock: he knows the moment just as you're about to let go. he listens to your body, to your heart - listens to it pick up in rhythm, to it pump wildly just before that moment. he listens to your breathing stagger and heighten, listens to the change in your body, to your muscles seize and tense. though that's all he lets you feel. he snatches himself away just as you're about to cum - pulling away his cock or tongue or fingers, not allowing you that sweet moment of release. he plays with you, endlessly working you up until you're just shy of your orgasm, then yanks himself away - listening to you whine and protest, panting wildly. he tells you he'll be nice on you and let you cum, but it'll be the same story again. working you up impossibly more, leaving you on the cusp of your high

.

miguel o'hara: he won't always fuck you with the full length of his dick. sometimes, he's just too much for you to take, so you have to satiate your need with just the tip of his cock. he'd keep his fat head wedged snuggly inside you, not moving or giving you any friction you desperately need. only placing his thumb over your clit, circling it slowly as he essentially uses his tip as a plug. he'd look down at you almost pitifully, cooing at you when you'd pout and whine, trying to take more of him. but he won't allow it - placing a large hand on your hip, stilling you as he continues to toy with your clit

.

moon boys: they make you wear a blindfold while they take turns fucking you. you have to figure out who is fronting solely by their touch - no talking, no communicating, no nothing. you have to differentiate them by their strokes and rhythm, by the way they fuck you, by how they touch and caress you. they don't like being mistaken for one another, so you best not guess wrong - they won't be so lenient with you

.

peter quill: a lazy, heated makeout in bed under the covers. both wearing comfy, cozy underwear, quill hovering atop, your legs wrapped around his hips - keeping him snug to you. kissing each other carnally, all slow and sloppy, breathy muffled moans into one another's mouths as he nudges his clothed chub-on on your pussy. leisurely winding his rock-hard cock against the pit of heat between your thighs. one hand on your throat deepening the kiss, the other holding your hand beside your head

.

pietro maximoff: before you both get down and dirty one night, he'd pull out a deep, dark red lipstick from his nightstand, asking you to put some on before you suck him off. he loves to see the red kisses scattered along his chest and stomach - your lipstick marks littered over his pale skin as you work down to settle between his thighs. he'd smear the red over your mouth, his thumb dragging over your slightly bruised lips - smudging the lipstick around. he keeps his eyes glued on you the whole time, watching the way your mouth wraps around his cock, leaving a messy red ring at the base - streaks running up his shaft

.

spencer reid: enjoys the intimacy of touch during sex. loves the feeling of your fingers in his messy curls, your hand soft and gentle on his face as his cock rocks into you. it would all be slow and sweet - the encounter so leisured and unrushed. the steady wind of his hips into yours and the warmth of each of your hands on one another faces, creating a beautifully tender moment

.

tangerine: loves to play with your cunt while he's sat behind. you'd lean into him against the headboard, your back resting against his chest, one of his arms tightly wrapped around your middle, the other between your thighs. he'd extend his neck, reaching around to kiss up the side of your throat, peppering your skin in soft, light kisses as he lazily rubs over your clit. middle and ring finger leisurely circling over the swollen nub. just him mindlessly toying with you as he kisses your cheek, whispering sweet words into your skin as he palms your tits with his spare hand

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

had some of these ideas floating around for ages, but never done anything with them—so finally finally wrote about the brainrot that’s been eating me up

added bucky and reid mar 5th

added logan oct 11th

[flrlgreen]

older brother's best friend (suguru getou x reader) + twt prn link

a/n: getou brainrot <3 i apologize for any errors i'm so tired.

cw: unprotected sex, use of the names good girl and princess, reader has a pussy, biting, dirty talk.

link

Suguru knew it was wrong to try and flirt with his best friend's younger sister. Throughout their teenage years he thought about it, but Satoru drew that line in the sand, but today Suguru danced all over that boundary. 

His brawny tattooed arms wrapped around you while high-pitched sobs escaped your throat. "Hah, Suguru! Fuck!" You yelled as his cock slammed into you. The pace was brutal and his cock sent shockwaves through your whole body. "Is it good Baby?" He cooed in your ear and fixed his grip on your waist all while bouncing you up and down. 

"Mmpf. God yes! So fucking good!" Was all you managed to get out. The feeling of his huge cock ravaging your insides while his fat tip hit that sweet spot inside you was making your head spin. 

"Squeezing me so fucking tight Princess." He let out a groan when he felt you clench even more as a result of his dirty talk. You feel a sudden smack on your ass and another groan escapes his mouth. "Such a tight little pussy, it's all mine." His sudden possessiveness makes you involuntarily shake and spasm on top of him.  "You like when I'm possessive over you don't you?" He half laughs at your reaction and his mouth finds your neck and you feel his teeth on the fragile and sensitive skin. 

"Answer me, Princess." He pulls away from your neck when he doesn’t hear a reply. He lifts your smaller frame until you're hovering over his cock. The thick and warm tip pokes and prods at your small entrance. You're so disheveled and fucked out that all you can get out is a small 'yes i love it'. The man gives you a sadistic smile before he forces your body down on his cock all at once. "S-so deep! Fuck I can't!" 

It was deeper than it ever was before. The feeling of being so full was driving you mad. Suguru loved that he could make you a mindless fuck doll. Watching your eyes practically roll to the back of your head while you moan and cry his name was making him approach his peak rapidly. His hand finds your clit and you feel your body give out at the sudden contact. "I can't! I'm gonna-"  You couldn't hold it back anymore, you felt the tingling all over your body and no words could escape your mouth before the pure bliss washed over your body. His fingers still toyed with your overly sensitive clit. "Good girl, cumming all over my cock." He says as he licks the shell of your ear.

You couldn't even move and the overstimulation of his cock thrusting inside you while you bathe in the afterglow of orgasm was too good. "Nngh, fuck Baby. I'm gonna-" He groans and before he can even finish his sentence you feel his warm seed spill in you, warming your insides. "That was so good Doll." He says and gives your shoulder a kiss. “This will be our little secret Princess.” 

[dipperscavern]

jon snow brainrot rn.

like imagine finding him after the whole thorne execution, post-death and post-revival

i need to hold him so bad🙁🙁 in spite of the horrid crawl of his skin, hair at his nape standing on end, urging him avert his gaze as you approach, he can't help but seek your soft stare, his own eyes weak with feeling, brows curved with vulnerability. and his heartbeat is quickening, and his breathing grows sharp

his hand trembles and no matter how desperately he tries to hold fast, he crumbles when you near, raising a hand to his cheek; warm and soft and tender. his breath hitches violently in his chest and his head falls to the crook of your neck, his silent sobs disrupting the quiet with small soundless gasps

and you hold him close, with a gentleness he deserves that he'd never before recieved, a hand in his curls and the other a firm warmth on his back as he helplessly leans his weight on you to finally release the overflow of agony he'd all but drowned in 🙁🙁🙁

SWEET BOY, I NEED TO HOLD HIM💔💔

SONGBIRDS — JON SNOW

pairing: jon snow x fem!reader, 3.1k words

synopsis: the ask above <3

authors note: ouh this was a rough one! i did in fact steal sentences from this ask, so thank u anon!! i love u!! become a writer!! thank u to my febu frongers @useralba & @eldrith for helping me not lose my sanity over this, love y’all!! enjoy i guess 🙄(if possible) (i’m gonna be quiet now)

SNAP

you’re brought out of your thoughts with a jolt, startled so badly you near fall out of the tree you’ve found sanctuary in. that doesn’t sit well with you, you’ve always been steady.

so was bran, a small voice whispers. so was he, another part of you agrees — and the one it mentions has naught to do with climbing.

was, your mind echoes bitterly. it seems like everyone who once surrounded you is only that anymore, a was. a whisper of the past, faces seen nowhere but in living memory; and now, he has joined them.

fresh tears roll down your cheeks, and you wipe them as soon as they join the conversation of grief. bitterness — mourning — desperation, all cradling you at once.

you readjust your form, limbs beginning to fall asleep from the tight position they’re in. if only you could do the same. it seems the gods have deemed you unable, as every time your eyes droop, you see the face of the lord commander.

the mere thought of him is paining, and the sight of him was entirely too much to bear. so much so that you fled, the memory squeezing uncomfortably at your chest.

his eyes, once ever-expressive, dulled to nothing but an expressionless saccharine blur. lips parted, yet no air being brought in to fill his lungs. the snow beneath him was stained a bloody crimson, and you can almost feel the familiar cold of the icy ground beneath your knees as you kneel beside the form of the man you love.

at first, you had cried. whispering pleas to whomever would listen, clutching any part of him you could reach — you had even attempted to stop the bleeding. stupid, stupid girl.

then, it seemed to occur to you that you were touching death. slowly removing your hands, looking down at the lifeless body of jon snow. and just like that, repulsion had entered your veins. no — rejection.

you rejected this. you rejected death, you rejected the finality you had been dealt. you had stood, clutching your bow, arrows lightly jostling from the movement. hunting.

you had been hunting while jon was dying.

if only time had dealt you a mercy, perhaps you would’ve made it back in time. to save him, or just to say goodbye, you’re not greedy in your wishing.

you glance to your hands, still stained with his blood. suddenly, your eyes flutter shut as you see the image of his body again — his wounds smoking in the cold nights air. it feels like a lifetime ago. rejection has long since abandoned you, leaving bitter acceptance in its wake.

you blink, eyes threatening tears, and your gaze finds the white and red blur of a weirwood tree. you return to the woods to escape, yet the gods find you anyway; what cruel mockery.

how could they, yet again? don’t they see all you lose? they must, you think, as they’re the ones who keep taking. is that the only joy a god may find? maybe now, that’s why you hunt; to send them a life as sick compensation for the one they took. what an acidic dance.

CRACK

this time, when a twig breaks, you are not so foolish as to think it only by coincidence. you aren’t the only hunter out here — yet you did not think to find yourself as prey.

whatever stalks you is enough to bring you out of the cynicality of grief, snapping you into a different mindset. though previously unsure how much more you can withstand, your body proves otherwise, flawless in its transition and execution.

you heart increases its rhythm, surefire in its performance, allowing extra blood flow and oxygen to be pumped to your aching muscles. your breathing changes, now quick and rapid breaths to take in more air which prove effective as you shift yourself from your sitting position.

you had chosen not the tallest tree, but the thickest and most concealed. it gives more room for stability, allowing you to exercise your position; a small decision you now are thankful for as you move forward, outstretching yourself on its thick limb to try and catch glimpse of whatever it is that seeks you.

unfortunately, the concealment that hides you does its job too well. you try to peer through the branches and leaves for what feels like ages, but they prove too thick. you curse under your breath, withdrawing from the branch to retreat back to the trees trunk once more.

closing your eyes, you listen. the gust of wind, the rustling of leaves, a raven cries in the distance. you wait.

there — your ears are graced with the light chirp of birds, in your own tree and in others nearby.

“If danger is near, the birds don’t sing.”

ned starks voice rings through your ears, so loud and clear that for a moment, you almost lose concentration. if asked why, you’d never be able to directly say why your eyes didn’t snap open, why your head didn’t swivel around, looking for the source of the voice you’ve heard. can you and the gods share a secret, if it’s one they decide not to include you on?

as the melody of songbirds continue, you shift to begin your descent.

in any other scenario you would stay in the tree, concealed by its branches until the threat was certainly gone. but things are different. jon is dead — you seek a fight. (do you, or do you refuse to allow the stranger your soul as well?)

the decision made, even in grief, isn’t a rash one. whatever it is isn’t nearby enough to silence the singers, and this may be your only window of opportunity to flip the coin; restoring yourself as predator, not prey.

your feet hit the ground, and you wince at the noise made. it’s midday, so you cannot hope for nightfalls rescue of concealment.

you pause, peering around you while you allow yourself a moment to think. your hunting grounds have always been the forest that surrounds castle black, and you had retreated to the very edge of it. your hunter has come from the north — funny enough, from the direction of castle black itself. if you’re careful, you can make a loop back east, foregoing your usual trail. swallowing your nerves, you begin to move your feet.

your senses are heightened, alike to how they are in battle, but this is different. instead of blood pulsing in your ears, they’re attuned to every sound, no matter how minuscule. the smell of blood and death is replaced by nature, the scent of oak & pine leaves fighting to not be smothered by the cold.

you don’t make much progress before you turn a corner and yelp in surprise, being met with a hulking figure, red eyes boring into you.

“Ghost—!” you shout; in surprise, frustration, and relief all at once. your breathing heavies, heart now beating wildly, ready to supply you should you need to run at a moments notice. then, somehow, you’re smiling. you smile at ghost, at the birds, who didn’t notice him enough to quiet themselves, and the childness of it all. you kneel, shouldering your bow and outstretching an arm.

ghost seems like he’s been waiting for your action, stepping forward immediately. you register his willingness — had he been searching for you? or did he find jon dead and left, as you did, finding you accidentally? if only he could speak; the phantom of a thousand words.

he’s soft under your hands, a small comfort parading in the wake of sad relations. and suddenly, you feel guilty. how long has ghost been by jon’s side? how fierce, the loyalty the direwolf has shown him? how fierce the devotion jon had shown him in return? he mourns alongside you, grief arguably more substantial, as he was given no explanation. how could he understand such matters?

an idiot thought, you're quick to push it away. you both have every right to grief, there is more than enough to go around.

eventually, ghost pulls away, and begins padding in the direction to castle black. you think he means to be solitary, but after a few paces, he stops, turning to look back at you. expectant.

though your breath hitches and grief nags at you once more, you swallow it down, and begin to follow the only remnant of jon snow — a piece of him that the gods saw fit to leave you. what cruel mercy, coming from the same hands of injustice.

though content to wallow in your anger, your disbelief, you refuse to allow the direwolf to return to castle black alone. strangely, the farther you follow him, the more you get a sense of deja vu. it can’t be more than a few minutes before you see a tree with bark missing, torn off and left bare its left side, which is now your right. a mark you had left to remember your trail. ghost has tracked your scent from castle black.

with the realization arises conflicted feelings, as if they can’t agree on how you feel. loyalty rings faintly in the back of your mind, the things done for love.

you forcibly close your mind, numbing yourself as to be fully in the present. you’ll have the rest of your days to dwell on it; but only now are you here, in the company of trees and wolves and birds, oh how they sing.

and suddenly, the melody is quiet.

time itself has been stopped, halted in its tracks. there’s no rustling of branches, of leaves, no sound of birds, no sound at all — the world has become inaudible.

you and ghost mirror each other in the ways you both lurch to a halt. a sick feeling infects your gut, hairs rising on the back of your neck, and the instinctual need to flee almost takes over. but something keeps you there, rooted to your spot, feet unmoving. what anchors you, is another secret between you and the gods; another peculiar joke that you stay the punchline of.

then, after a moment, a gust of wind graces the forest. it blows your hair, rustles through the trees, and almost hesitantly so, the birds begin their song again. ghost looks back at you, surveying as if this is the first time he’s seen you.

he begins to lead the way once more, but a thought still lingers in the back of your mind, and you’re unable to shake off the unease in your gut. what has dismantled the harmonious balance among living things so?

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

he wakes with a gasp.

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

it must be hours later when you approach the gates of castle black. one of the guards on watch takes notice, shaking the other awake. as they both stare down at you, you wonder.

are they close enough to see the mourning that rests forefront on your face? were they the same men who opened the gate for you upon your return last night, only to do the same thing minutes later after you found jon? do they feel guilty? should you?

the wooden gates protest opening, loud creaks and groans as it gives you access, and at first, you don’t see it.

at first, you walk in, and your gaze is trapped on the ground, lost in thought. you’ve come back empty handed, as you came back to jon — or rather, his body. but you don’t think anyone was expecting a stag draped across your shoulders. amidst the unexpected.

when you finally do look up, you’re startled for the ? time today. four men hang in the middle of the courtyard.

you stop in your tracks, but this time, ghost pads on ahead of you. he stops not for anybody, curving them all to fair left. the direction to jon’s chambers.

you don’t have long to dwell on the wolfs mistake, as peoples eyes find your frozen figure. among them, friends; edd, grenn, pyp, others you don’t recognize. some, not dressed in black. wildlings. you begin to walk forward, and a tall, ginger bearded figure spots you. tormund walks to meet you, an expression on his face unreadable — unable to be identified by your tired eyes.

confusion — surprise — apprehension — curiosity; all fight for their seat at the forefront of your mind, but they’re forced to share.

as you and tormund find each other, you glance past him at the hanging men. then to your left, expecting to see ghost still scratching at jon’s door — but he’s not there. was he shooed off? did you misread his intention?

“I don’t— what’s…” you start, but don’t finish. how could you even begin?

tormund reaches for you, hands settling on your biceps. whether he’s keeping you in place or checking for injury, you don’t think you care. the weight and warmth of the gesture is welcomed.

“Tormund, you’re scaring me—” your admission wouldn’t usually come so easy, but you can’t be bothered to guard yourself. you’re exhausted, your muscles are stiff, you’re confused, and you hurt.

he only turns you toward jon’s chambers, pointing, a hand on the small of your back. “In there, little bird.” he says, and you wish to tell him what a help he is. but you don’t. for some reason, you bite your tongue, sparing a last glance at him, before slowly making your way over.

all of the eyes on you make you nervous, and frustrate you all the same. why do they all act like they’ve seen the father?

it doesn’t take long for you to reach the door, curiosity guiding your step. you see ghosts muddied paw prints on the wood, but they don’t turn left or right — ending at the chamber door. your brows furrow almost instinctively. you can’t help but linger on the thought, setting your bow & arrows to lay nearby; your shoulders welcome the reprieve. with bated breaths, you push on the wood, stepping inside. what you find is beyond even your wildest imaginations.

what you find is jon’s head turning to look at you, and you can’t help the sharp inhale of air you take.

his bottom half is clothed, but his upper is uncovered, torso wrapped in bandages; covering the stab wounds that you know took his life.

you think him a hallucination, mind willing his fate to change so desperately it has conjured up its own delusion. but you glance to ghost, dutifully curled by his feet, and shift to turn, looking at the paw prints that led you here.

you turn back to (jon?), closing the door behind you. while your own flickers to ghost once more (an affirmation), jon’s gaze remains fixed on you. you inch closer, surveying him.

his eyes, now encasing life — not quite the same as you knew, but life nonetheless. lips, parted, as to suck in air to fill his lungs. lungs that in return, work in correspondence with his heart, beating to keep him alive.

no. this can’t be…

but it is.

he’s rigid — uncomfortable, yet a part of him fights to relax in your presence. how can it all be so unbalanced and so right all at once? you’re here. you’re all he’s ever wanted. but a part of him keeps him withdrawn, fighting him on reaching out for you.

perhaps it’s the horrid crawl of his skin, urging him avert his gaze as you approach. even so, he can't help but seek your gentle stare, his own eyes weak with feeling, brows curved with vulnerability. you see it as you close in — the turmoil within himself.

a different part of him wins, and he reaches for you. you’ve been waiting, it seems, and reach for him with equal fervor. his hands are cold on your waist, strikingly so. your eyes widen, disbelief written on you like ink on parchment.

you had not expected to feel him. no, you expected for him to vanish underneath your very fingertips.

one of your hands find the bare skin of his torso, experimentally reaching out. jon is hungry for your touch, offering any part of himself for your taking. he has craved you desperately ever since he awoke.

he watches, patient as you register the warmth underneath your hand. there’s blood circulating through his veins. your pupils blow wide in the realization.

you’re anxious for more assurance, your right hand moving to his forearm to keep him in place (jon wouldn’t dare to move), as your left finds his chest. specifically — the part of his chest that keeps safe his heart. you feel it beat underneath your palm, and your reaction is immediate, eyes fluttering shut.

if he didn’t want to be touched, jon would’ve shied away from you by now. but he hasn’t. no, his eyes bore into you with the attention only divine beings receive

jons breathing heavies in anticipation, expectant. he gauges every ounce of your reaction, waiting for your evaluation of him — as a sinner would their god. is he worthy? do you deem him so?

when your eyes open, something clicks into place. jon is here, in the now, alive and breathing; your fingertips said so themselves. you don’t know how, but you can’t find it in yourself to care much in the present, not when you finally have him in your hold once more. what you would’ve given for this, hours ago in your tree. what wouldn’t you have given?

and now, your eyes roam over every part of him, drinking in all that you can. your gaze trails fast, mapping the expanse of his shoulders, down his arms, to his torso, across his bandages again.

your hand removes itself from his chest, only momentarily, but jon chases your touch all the same. you can’t bear to leave him wanting, sliding a hand up his shoulder, feeling the lithe muscle beneath it. you’re desperate to ground the feeling of him, to commit it to memory — and jon seems equal in his need.

you hand stops it’s ascent when it reaches his neck, cradling the juncture of it, thumb smoothing over the soft skin of his cheek, as you meet his gaze. your touch is warm and soft and tender, and in an instant, his eyes are watery. the hands on your waist tremble, and his breaths turn shaky in an attempt to hold himself together. his brows pull together, and his breath hitches violently in his chest. something stirs in you at the sight, the expressions of a broken man.

jon has passed your test of realism with flying colors, and when he realizes, he crumbles.

his head falls to the crook of your neck, closing the small distance between you. you’re quick to wrap your arms around him, and jon’s immediate in pulling you closer — as close as you can get. the tears begin their flow easily, releasing the buildup of emotions harbored from death snaring & absolving him; akin to poison swallowed and retched before fully digested.

your touch is gentle, a hand in his curls and the other a firm warmth on his back. he leans himself into you, almost helplessly so, as if he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. you accept his weight with open arms. if jon was asked why he fights so desperately, even in times it seems hopeless, he would say to repay the gods for their gift to him; you.

the only things that disrupt the steady quiet that surrounds you are his silent sobs, accompanied by the small soundless gasps that flow from his lips as a river of melancholy.

his grip is tight; he drowns in a vast sea of agony, and you alone are his anchor.

[beepboopkek]

need jing yuan to lay on top of me... i bet he'd be hesitant at first, not wanting to crush you (literally) but after a while he'd start to doze off and fully relax. he's so huge,, i might not be able to breathe after all but its so wort it!!

GOD UR SO RIGHT ANON YOU ACTIVATED MY JY BRAINROT SO BAD I SHIT OUT THIS 560 WORDS FLUFF DRABBLE INSTANTLY IM IN THE MIDDLE OF EXAM WEEK BUT DO I CARE!!!! NO!!! Jing Yuan x GN!Reader (Fluff)

“You want me to do what?”

Your boyfriend blinked owlishly at you, almost as if you'd spoken a language he didn't understand.

“I want you to lay on top of me.”

“I'll crush you—”

“—and that is exactly what I want. Please.”

You gave him your best pleading face until he sighed and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the bed, both of you were already in your home clothes so you didn't have to worry about his armour.

“The things I do for you…”

You jumped up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before jumping onto and splaying yourself in the center of the bed, looking like a starfish.

You wiggled your fingers as you smiled up at him,

“Come onnn, I know you want to!”

Jing Yuan eyed the bed hesitantly.

“Do I just—” He paused before gesturing at your body

“plop down on you?”

“Do whatever you want Jing Yuan, just lay on top of me.” – You emphasized with great need.

Jing Yuan shook his head and slowly crawled up the bed, both his arms caging you in as his hair fell down his shoulders.

“You know,” He began with a cheeky look and you already knew where this was going.

“Jing Yuan.” You hissed back at him before he could complete his sentence.

Before you could scold him again, the air out of your lungs was pushed out entirely as you felt the heavy weight of your boyfriend drop down on you. Panicked by the sound of the loud gasp you let out, he immediately lifted some of his weight before grabbing you.

“Sorry, sorry, was that too much?”

You smiled back at him giddily,

“Do it again!” 

Jing Yuan sighed in relief but told you a firm “No” before speaking again.

“I'm only going to let down some of my weight, we'll stop after you've had your share of whatever this is.”

And with that, the general lowered his body onto yours once again but, this time he was holding himself up slightly.

You only giggled in response and wrapped your arms around his soft head, gently petting the white hair.

“Relax, Yu.”

Jing Yuan only groaned in response, his head buried into the soft material on your chest. His voice was muffled as he spoke.

“I am relaxing.”

“You're not, drop your whole weight on me.”

Jing Yuan only nuzzled his face further into your chest and made a noise of disagreement.

He was enjoying this, you could tell.

“This was a good idea.”

“Mhhhmmm.”

Jing Yuan drawled out.

There was a soft silence after, the only sounds in the room were your hands petting your boyfriend's hair and his soft breathing.

Slowly but surely, you felt more and more of Jing Yuan’s weight drop back down on you, the “dozing” general finally dozing off.

You chose his afternoon nap time for a reason, there's no way he'd be able to resist his sleep cradled this close to you.

It had barely been five minutes into the silence that had fallen over the room when you heard his soft snores.

Checkmate.

You smiled fondly before closing your own eyes, your breath coming out in short intervals.

You'll sacrifice being able to properly breathe for now— Hell, you'd sacrifice anything to have him agree to do this more often.

[evvyyypeters-fics]

LoveBug

Peter Maximoff x infected!f!reader

Warnings! Pure smut, porn w/ basically no plot, vague sex virus stuff, needy reader, p n v, rough sex, dorky Peter

Literally wrote this in 5 minutes. Been having major Peter brainrot recently and I love super horny crazed reader

“Peter…puhlease..” You whined desperately, swaying your hips tauntingly at him, back arched deep into the bed. You eye him from his stance at his Pac-Man machine, now distracted by your erotic behavior.

“What’s gotten into you today?” He chuckles softly, a hidden amused smirk creeps on his face as he reluctantly walks away and over to you, still mewling against his sheets like a cat in heat.

“Need y’u sho’ bah’…” Your words slurred, your mouth felt numb, slow with words and too filled with lust in your overdriven horny brain to process speaking any coherent sentence.

A red tint instantly begins to creep on his face and he shyly plants himself behind you, massaging your hips testingly with his hands.

“What do you need, baby?” He asks, swallowing thickly as he peers close to your face.

“Need y’oh…need y’uh in me sho’ ba’h” The words sinking into the thick sheets below, hips still swaying. Peter stares into your lust-blown eyes. He knows something else is going on, but he doesn’t bother to ask any further, he knows you would hate it if he did with the predicament you were in.

He frees himself from his pajama pants, then boxers and grabs your hips in a tighter grip, pulling away your panties and positioning himself before sinking into your drenched cunt. Arousal having leaked down your thighs, the sight almost making him shiver.

An unexpected moan slips past your lips and Peter groans as you flutter harder and tighter around him than you usually do, causing him to desperately rut into you. He presses you further into the bed, grabbing the elbows of your arms desperately clinging to the sheets and pulling them back to fuck you into oblivion. Pulling strings of thick, erotic moans to spill from your lips shamelessly. The hot coil in your abdomen winds tighter and tighter, becoming unbearable as your eyes roll back. Orgasm washes over you, but Peter doesn’t stop. Determined to reach his high, he overstimulates you just enough to scratch away that itch only a little, bucking deep against your cervix before releasing a hot load. A loud groan escapes his lips and he falters back. He starts to pull away, but the itching inside of you unsatisfied, you grip his wrist. Pleading eyes boring into him.

“M-more’h..plesuh..” You whimper, thighs trembling with anticipation and a lingering orgasm. Peter is shocked by your needy behavior, but nods and obliges. Shoving himself slowly into you again, his pillowy tip pressing against your cervix, building a crescendo of speed before completely pounding you back into the mattress again. Your final orgasm hits like a brick and your whole body shivers, shaking in his grip as he spills over with you. Filling you more than you’ve ever been with his warm seed.

Peter, worn out, flops down beside you on the bed and places a tender kiss on your forehead. The sound of the TV having been playing in the background the whole time hits his ears.

“..outbreak of sexual virus that infects host with high libido…” Perks him up, and everything clicks. Today was going to be a long day, far from over. That he was sure of.

taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx @alittleobsessedbitch

[ellecdc]

Hiii congrats on your new job, we love a employed queen 🙌. I hope I’m not bothering you with requests my marauders brainrot is taking over. Could I please perhaps request headcannons and whatnot about the boys as dads, individually and/or the different polys you write for? If that’s alright, your latest fic brought this on I suppose 😭. Bye bye now lovely, enjoy your dayyy

marauders brain rot is taking over for me too babes, no worries.

James:

cries constantly. baby is upset? he's crying. baby is adorable? he's crying. baby learns something new? James is crying.

tummy time is daddy time because James is on his stomach in front of the baby too - his partner will make jokes saying that James and their five month old are working on their gross motor skills together

loves playing pretend; get's in arguments with the child if he doesn't think they're imagining 'properly' (his partner has to scold James for ruining the fun)

the dad-friend; kids will run up to the door to ask if your kid and James can come outside to play - plays manhunt, nickie nine-doors houses with the kids, is the best dad to go trick-or-treating with, his kids friends come over to hangout with his kids and him

cries at every single milestone: first steps, first word, birthdays, plays/awards or recitals or sports games etc, graduations, first dates, school dances etc

begs his partner the second his kids move out for more (regardless of how old they are at that point) "we can adopt! yeah? what about foster - why don't foster kids? please?!"

then he becomes a grandpa and the whole damn thing starts all over again

Sirius:

I see Sirius as a bit of a worrier - constantly in his head about what he's doing, if he's doing it right, if he's being a good enough dad, etc etc

stuck like glue to the kid the second they're born - takes night time feedings and every diaper change because he doesn't want to be absent like his dad (and maybe mother? probably had nannies in muggle AU or relied on Kreacher for child rearing) -> Sirius wants to be there for it all; he wants his child to know that their dad was there

does stuff with the kid that's a little too old for them lol - five month old wearing a leather jacket, buys a motorcycle helmet for a 1.5 year old (partner had none of it!), buys them their first bike at 3, etc

BUT then....as the child get's older - refuses to believe that they're that old. "a cellphone?! what do you need a cellphone for!? you're seven!" "dad, I'm 13." "since when!?!?!?"

definitely wants his kids to learn how to play an instrument (he doesn't even care which instrument; he just wants to share his love of music with them!) but doesn't want it to be a chore/burden like learning the piano was for him and Reggie (and many children world wide lol), so gently encourages through out their whole life and buys them any instrument they're interested in and let's them change their minds 700 times (even though it breaks his heart a little bit each time)

pretends not to cry when he sends them off to school (in kindergarten or college in muggle AU or Hogwarts)

cheers the loudest and most obnoxiously at all sports games/recitals/awards etc even if he has no fucking clue what's going on (OMG, I just thought - I used to work at a dance studio and he was be the best fucking dance dad!!!!!)

known as the cool/hot dad amongst his kids' friends

Remus:

so incredibly freaked that something this small and perfect could possibly exist - moves in slow motion for the first month of the babies life because he's afraid of dropping it or shaking it unintentionally

talks to the infant like it's a regular person/adult; running joke in the family (i.e., friend group) that the baby won't have a first word - they'll just one day start stringing full sentences

swears constantly in front of the kid - one of their first words is fuck which Sirius and James find hilarious and never let Remus forget it (and they actively encourage the kid to continue it too because they love to see Remus sweat every time it happens)

insists the kids know how to play outside and get dirty - (jokingly) admonishes them if they come inside after playing and don't have dirt under their finger nails.

loves to build forts (inside and outside) and I could see him liking to hike with the kids (nothing huge, but down to streams and such), teaches them to catch (and release) frogs, bugs, etc, they take pictures of bugs they find on their walks so they can look them up when they get home

reading, arts and crafts, paintings, etc

keeps every single painting and drawing they've ever made - keeps them in a filing cabinet organized by child, age, and type

if James is the fun dad, Remus is the chill dad; all the kids in the family go to him for advice, if they are in trouble (e.g., need a ride from a party that their parents don't know about), to complain about their own parents

never not telling the kids how much he loves them and how proud he is of them

Regulus:

runs immediately to James and Sirius for advice - does not want to be an apathetic parent

deep anxiety/lots of overthinking

very gentle and delicate with his babies - afraid of hurting them and finds them to be just the most precious little things...like they're sacred and need to be handled with the utmost care

keke & I headcanoned that his partner would often find him in the middle of the night playing the piano quietly with the baby laying on top of the piano to feel the calming vibrations if he got up with them

reads baby books and parenting books front to back like they're novels - takes notes, highlights, stickie notes etc

LOVES STRUCTURE - routine is so important to Regulus as a dad; his friends end up needing to learn his child's schedule in order to ever see Regulus

his kids may find him to be a bit more strict, but he's also a bit of a pushover; will buy his kids whatever they want - his partner ends up having to yell at him and tell him that he's going to raise spoiled brats....he buys them a diamond tennis bracelet to make up for it

works really, really hard to be different than his parents; Sirius tells him constantly that he's doing a very good job of it (and they both pretend that Reg doesn't cry about it)

Barty:

had a bit of a chat about this in this post, but basically...

the most hands on and involved dad to ever walk the earth - will not go to any place that isn't child friendly or catered to children

the most proud of everything that his kid does: sits up on their own? can hold their head up? holding a fork? knocks over a block tower? can point to their nose? He's fucking celebrating, like, throwing a party over it

I could see him being like an instagram dad - constantly taking pictures and bragging about how awesome/smart/cute/perfect his kid is (but his partner had to tell Barty to stop telling other parents that this meant their kids were inferior to his......even if they were)

get's faaaarrrrrr tooo involved with playtime, one of my mutuals made some really sweet comments on the post linked above that I might turn into a quick blurb

cannot for the life of him be bad cop - he thinks everything his kids do is awesome/spectacular (even the bad stuff) -> tries to play it cool in front of his partner/co-parent but will absolutely fold the second they leave or the kid's lower lip wobbles or the give him those doe eyes

most hated parent on the PTA [parent teachers association] but volunteers for everything - every school field trip, every bake sale etc

fucking ridiculous when his kids start dating - no one is good enough for them, pouty when the kids want to spend an evening or whatnot with their new fling instead of him

takes it as a personal offence (or at least acts like it) when the kids move out/go to college

what do you all think? any other head canons I should add to this list?

[weneeya]

the death of me w/ law m.list | rules

note. the one piece brainrot is never over but i'm definitely not writing with them enough so pls take law as a sorry <3

You couldn’t even remember when you joined the pirates of the Heart. It had been so many years ago, you felt like you had been here your whole life. They were the only thing that mattered to you and you would have given everything for them ; maybe too much even. 

If the things had been a bit complicated at first with your captain, Trafalgar D Water Law, you were now ready to give your own life for him and his objective. You were completely devoted, and the word wasn’t maybe even strong enough to describe how you felt towards him. 

There was a fight on this stupid island. Your crew just stopped by to get some groceries as an emergency, but you ended up getting trapped by some Marines who clearly wanted to bring all of you with them. You were a fighter, you had been your whole life. So you didn’t hesitate for a second when you saw them almost jump on Bepo to catch him. 

The fight got farther than expected, but thanks to Law, all of you had the chance to escape before they got any of you. When you finally all found your way back to the submarine, well hidden under the sea, Law thought he had finally some time. The wounds of the crew didn’t seem too bad, so it shouldn’t take too long. 

At least, he thought so ; until he saw you arrived. Or in fact, when he saw Penguin and Bepo bringing you to him, obviously worried about your state. They started to explain to Law what happened, how you jumped in front of Bepo so he wouldn't get hurt, even if he was more resilient than you for this. 

Law asked them to bring you to the bed and laid you down there so he could take care of your wounds. He firmly asked everyone to leave the room, and nobody said anything about the orders. He needed to be fully focused ; and he didn’t want anyone to see a hint of worry on his face. 

It had been hard, and he almost thought it was over a few times ; but you were holding up like no one. After a long time which seemed like hours, he was finally done. He took a chair, sitting down next to your bed. A long sigh left his lips before he closed his eyes, face hidden by his hat. 

You woke up a few days after, and the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Bepo. The huge bear started to cry almost immediately when he saw you awake. He almost took you between his arms, but stopped right before because he didn’t want to reopen your wounds. He quickly called for Law at the door, and soon you were alone with your captain in the infirmary. 

You were sitting on the bed when he sat on a chair a few steps away. Both of you stayed silent, before you slowly cleared your throat. You looked at him, ready to say something, when his own voice resonated in your mind. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said with a sigh, and you didn’t know what to answer. You looked at him, completely silent, before you finally met his gaze. You had known Law for years now, but you were sure you never saw him this annoyed before.

‘I’m sorry, I…” He didn’t let you finish, cutting you mid sentence. “What were you thinking? You could have died there.” He said, the anger slowly rising inside of him. You felt so guilty, but at the same time, you didn’t regret your choice. You knew your decision was the best. 

“It was me or Bepo, and Bepo can’t die,” you started, and a frown appeared suddenly on his face, understanding what you were trying to say. “Oh, because you can?” He asked, and he hated how he already knew what your answer was going to be. “Yes,” was the only thing you said, still looking at his face. 

He stood up from his chair, tongue clicking against his palate. He came closer to you, grabbing you by your collar, not caring about your state right now. You met his gaze, and the worry you saw in it caught you off guard. You knew your captain cared about his crew, but so much about you? Impossible. 

“You have no right to die, not under my watch. Am I being clear?” He asked, but you knew you could only answer one thing right now. You slowly nodded at his words, and he let go of your top. A sigh left his lips. “Good. Now take some rest. You’re not going out of here until you’re better. Really better, I mean.” 

You could only agree to this. You hated to stay in here, and you were always finding a way to get out of here. But this time, it was different. You knew that Law wasn’t going to be as tolerant as usual. But it warmed your heart in your way. Especially when almost half of the crew rushed into your room to get news about you. 

You were sure it was the first time that you felt people really caring about you, and it felt so good. You ignored the tears forming at the corner of your eyes, and you let your mind focus on reassuring your crewmates.

thank you for reading <3

[bokutosmochi]

kinktober day 3: body worship!

MY WHOLE EXISTENCE IS FLAWED (YOU GET ME CLOSER TO GOD) ♡ GOJO SATORU

gojo satoru x fem!reader

ingredients? no plot. just gojo sucking tits.

what's it? smut

allergen warnings? established relationship, needy!gojo, gojo being obsessed with your tits, body worship

sugar level? 1.1k

regulars? @ventdavi154 @eussstasss @deobiforever @sugusshi @angelshub (send an ask if you wanna be a part/removed from the taglist)

parlor's note? the gojo brainrot is unbelievably strong.

bon appetit!

gojo is obsessed with your boobs.

satoru doesn't care whether you're not in the mood to fuck, so long as you give him the green light to suck your tits.

you're in your shared bed, watching your favorite movie when he walked into the room, shoulders uncharacteristically slumped and lips characteristically pouty.

he's had such a rough day -- getting chastised by yaga for being six minutes late to a meeting, ignored by nanami, and getting sassed by kugisaki and fushiguro. all he wants is some quality alone time with you to make it better.

you didn't notice it at first though, not when the movie's in its climax. instead, you're buzzing with excitement and leaning from side to side whenever satoru's figure blocks your view of the tv.

but it seems to be impossible to ignore him.

with the loud huff he always breathes out at times when your attention isn't on him, he plops right on top of you.

the warmth travels up as he scoots so his head would be on your chest where he buries his face. he can feel the heat you radiate through the thin, worn-out fabric of his your old shirt and it melts the stress off his shoulders. not entirely, though. he needs some more help from you for that.

thoughtlessly, you run a hand through his soft white hair. it's instinctual, just like the hum of acknowledgment you give him.

it doesn't seem to be enough for an ever insatiable satoru though.

"babyy," he whines, wrapping his arms around you and cuddling further.

much to his dismay, you only disinterestedly hum at him again.

if it was any other time, he probably would have kicked up a fuss about it. actually, he thinks, there wouldn't be a probably about it. he would have kicked up a fuss about it, after all, in his opinion, your attention and love should always be on your devoted, thoughtful, handsome boyfriend. that day of kicking up a fuss is not today though.

he's feeling way too needy for that, knowing it'd take way too long for you to pry your focus from the stupid movie and onto him.

so he just asks you for something instead.

"can i play with your tits, baby?" as dirty as the sentence is, he says it sweetly, reminiscent of a boy asking out a girl he's liked since forever to go on a date with him.

and your voice is just as soft when you answer in the affirmative, hand still in his hair, running your fingers through he snowy strands.

he starts off with grabbing them through he shirt, massaging them in his big hands. there's something he finds oddly relaxing in the action. he's able to turn his brain off for a while and simply let the part of him he always suppresses rise.

the part of him that always hungers for pleasure.

he gifts both of your already stiff nipples a chaste kiss through the shirt before pulling the fabric up and over your tits.

his eyes shine like diamonds when he gazes at your bare chest. no matter how many times he's already seen you naked, it's a sight he can never get sick of. he's moved his head a bit to the side now, longing to see your whole abdomen, to see and hear how your voice hitches at his ministrations or how you shakily inhale or exhale.

"pretty," he comments as he pinches a nipple and rolls it between his fingers. it's not for you though, he's thinking out loud, talking to himself.

when he's content with how hard it is, he moves on to your other tit. this time he gropes and squeezes at it. with all of his fingers except his index, he holds the bottom of your tit, keeping it in place as he rubs the nub with his pointer finger in circular motions.

you let out a content exhale as he does so, moving on to scratch at his scalp.

he shivers at the feeling, electricity running up and down his spine until it sparks in his brain.

it's almost too much to bear for him.

and so he does something about it.

he starts off by trailing wet kisses from your shoulder, to your collarbone, to the sides of your chest, all the while his hands caress your waist and tummy with a feather-like touch.

his movements are perfect. they make you squirm and slowly rub your thighs together, trying to satiate the slowly building ache between your legs. it's not enough to make you look away from the television though, just enough to make you moan his name softly, back arched off the mattress slightly.

you gasp when he puts his wet mouth on your tits.

the contrast of the coolness of the room and the warmth of his mouth is pleasurable. it makes everything he does feel so much better.

your brain short circuits when he sucks on your sensitive nipples, running his tongue up and down the tip until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, before sucking on it harshly again. it makes you moan louder now. his name leaves your lips like a prayer and he swears to never forget how you sound, to keep it ingrained in his brain for safe keeping, only to be used during long missions.

the sight of him moving from one breast to the other, the sight of the string of saliva that follows his mouth is unbelievably lewd. you can't bring yourself to look away from satoru now. the only thing that your mind processes is him. all of your senses are solely focused on him.

the way he smells, clean with a hint of after-shave, fresh out of the shower. the way the skin of his back feels under your fingertips, smooth, excluding the rough lines from past scars he's collected over time. the way he looks, utterly engrossed in the moment with his one track mind. the way he sounds as his mouth works over you, the tiniest moans slipping out of his glossy, spit covered lips. whether that's from the satisfaction he gets from pleasuring you or from the way his hips thrust against your legs, you are not sure, although knowing satoru, you think it's both. and you swear, you can taste him on your tongue.

satoru doesn't care whether you're not in the mood to fuck, so long as you give him the green light to suck your tits. both of the time though, if you do give him the green light, it ends with you giving in either way.

i get: reblog

you get: gojo satoru noodle stopper

[lnfours]

Hey girl, could you maybe do something fluffy with Lando? Really just anything. Thank you ily🫶

of course i can 🫶🏻

warnings: fluff, language, lando not being sure on how to ask his crush out on a date

lando brainrot? lando brainrot.

max looked over at his friend with raised eyebrows, watching as the boy he had known almost his whole life watched the girl across the room with an expression he only wore when you were around.

unbeknownst to him, everyone knew of lando’s soft spot for you. how he’d open doors for you, insist on paying for your coffee, how he’d show up to the apartment with little gifts from all around the world simply because ‘they reminded him of you’. it was really no secret, but it wasn’t like he was doing a good job at hiding it.

especially right now, his eyes filling with that look as he watched you talk with oscar at the mclaren event he had invited you and max to. you had picked out a stunning dress that hugged you in all the right places and had complimented your skin tone so well. he was half tempted to thank ria for convincing you to splurge on the silk dress.

“would you just go talk to her?” max groaned, taking a sip from his drink.

lando whipped his head around to his best friend, “what?”

“you heard me,” max chuckled, “she’s not going to stay single for long, y’know. plus, she’s into you, what’ve you got to lose?”

lando was more focused on the second sentence coming from his best friends mouth, “she’s into me?”

max rolled his eyes, “anyone with eyes can see the two of you drooling over each other anytime you’re in the same room.”

“i don’t drool,” lando teased back, saying it matter-of-factly.

“yeah? what’s that? right there?” max teased and lando shoved his arm playfully.

“shut up, mate.”

just then, your eyes had landed on your friends, smiling before you made eye contact with the brunette, waving him over, “lan, c’mere!”

max leaned closer to his friend, whisper yelling to him, “this is your chance!”

lando shook his head, walking to where you were laughing with his teammate. you smiled at his presence, motioning over to oscar, “i was just telling him about how i beat you in karting that one time.”

“yeah?” lando asked, turning to his friend, “did she also tell you that she almost crashed at the first turn?”

oscar laughed, a look of amusement on his face as he looked over at your gasping face, “no, she didn’t!”

you slapped his arm playfully, slightly giggling, “no i didn’t!”

“whatever you say, love,” he hummed, looking down at your drink that was almost empty, “want another drink?”

you twisted your lips in thought before shrugging, “sure,”

“i’m gonna go find lily,” oscar said, “ill catch up with the two of you later.”

you both nodded and bid a small goodbye before you looked over at your best friend, a small smile on your face, “accompany me to the bar?”

he smiled, offering you his arm, “it’d be my pleasure.”

you linked your arm with his, hand resting on his bicep as the two of you walked through the crowd.

“you look gorgeous tonight, by the way.” lando stated, leaning closer to your ear so you could hear him speak.

your cheeks felt hot, but you looked up at him anyway, “thank you,” your eyes traveled over his suit, “guess you clean up well, too.”

he smiled, looking over his outfit, “you think so?”

you nodded, stepping in front of him as the both of you approached the bar, reaching up to fix his tie, “i know so.”

“fancy another drink?” the bartender had cut the moment short, you turning back around to face the man in front of you who wore a polite smile.

“yes, please. i’ll have another vodka cran,” you smiled, looking back at lando, “and a water for him.”

the bartender nodded, “coming right up.”

you turned back to your friend who was already looking back at you before he spoke up, “you having a good time?”

you nodded, “i am, thank you for inviting me.”

“it’s actually really nice having you here,” he said, “wish you could come to all of these.”

“me too.”

“here you are, a vodka cran and a water for the gentleman.”

you thanked the bar tender, taking the cups from the bar top before you handed the water to the man behind you. he accepted it, you raising your glass to his.

“to another year with mclaren,” you smiled, “and more podiums.”

“and us.” he smiled back at you before the both of you clinked your cups, taking sips shortly after.

“mm,” he hummed, swallowing his drink down before he continued, “i’ve got a question for you.”

you raised an eyebrow, “hmm?”

“would you want to..” he trailed off, his eyes on yours as he suddenly felt the nerves come over him in a rush, “um, did you want to maybe get dinner?”

you looked at him, “as friends or… as in a date?”

he swallowed, trying to suppress his nerves, “a date.”

you smiled again, for what felt like the hundredth time, and each time was because of the boy in front of you. you nodded, taking a sip of your drink.

“i’d love to.”

i’m his nerves washed away, grinning down at you, “really?- uhm, how about friday? when i’m done training?”

you nodded, “sounds perfect.”

he nodded back at you, “okay, cool- i mean, great!”

you laughed softly at his nervous stammering, “pick me up at 6?”

he opened his mouth to speak before getting cut off by the sound of someone calling his name. he looked over to where it was coming from, spotting jon and zak waving him over.

“6 is good,” he nodded, “i’ll catch you in a bit?”

you grinned back at him and nodded, “come find me.”

he smiled and nodded, making his way over to his trainer and his boss, looking back over at you with a smile before turning his attention back to the conversation.

a presence joined you at the bar, watching you watch the man across the room, “did he finally ask you?”

you didn’t have to look at the person next to you to realize who it was, the australian accent giving it away, “yeah, he did.”

“thank god,” oscar sighed, “you’re all he talks about, y’know.”

you smiled over at the aussie next to you, “i know,”