#cause it's rotting my brain

[soldrawss]

I love all spideymans equally but the Peter Parker that’s also a pseudo adopted Stark kid is so near and dear to my heart that I’m going to make it everyone’s problem

[ghostbl00]

id put every bone back in place for you

[dearabsolutelynoone]

“Anthony was rather famously besotted with his wife…”

…who was in turn rather inexplicably besotted with him.”

[caspervi]

Date time ⭐️

[jenofthefar]

I am suffering from severe Astarion brainrot, send help, thank you that is all

[meep-meep-richie]

There was absolute no space in that room for Loki to move; that’s why he stands so close to Mobius here

[sofiaruelle]

Meet us at the Bus Stop~!

# a d (/s for joja)

[shootingmorningstar]

Was inspired by bambygourl’s fanart and a TikTok I saw. Dressing up as Roger and Jessica Rabbit for a costume party with Lucifer. I think he’d be all pouty and grumpy about dressing up as such a silly character and not a suave charming character. Especially since he’d take a look at the white button up, red trousers with suspenders, and blue bow tie with yellow polka-dots and see it as a fashion nightmare XD. And don’t get him started on the bunny ears and tail. Tho his mood is sufficiently uplifted when he sees the reader dressed up as Jessica Rabbit. Low cut red dress with a slit and all. Just imagine pulling on his suspenders or bow tie for a kiss, getting lipstick on his mouth and face, and cooing over how adorable and handsome her honey-bunny is.

I've been meaning to get to this request ever since I saw it because it is just so good. I'm definitely biased for anything Lucifer related but god this is just so cute. Anon, your brain is outstanding. I love pouty Lucifer. If you still have that tiktok on hand or ever come across it again, do you think you could send it my way .ᐣ

You didn't include what kind of request you wanted though, and my default is HCs -- but I couldn't help but throw in a little drabble based on them, too. Or, at least I intended it to be a drabble .ᐣ It got away from me, haha.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Lucifer and Female Reader Dressing

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Up As Roger and Jessica Rabbit ~

Lucifer is initially thrilled when you bring up wanting to attend a famous yearly costume party in Pride with him. A chance to show you off sounds amazing, and he's great with costumes. Just the thought of you two matching is enough to get him excited.

You seemed just as excited as he was -- in fact, he was even more excited when you told him you'd already had something in mind .ᐟ He's pestering you to tell him just what the costumes were as soon as the plan leaves your lips, but much to his displeasure, you refuse, saying you want to keep it a surprise.

You'd even managed to resist the very strongest puppy-dog eyes and pout. Impressive. He usually succeeds in getting his way with that one -- who could ever say no to that face .ᐣ Having exhausted his options, he sighs his defeat.

Well, nearly exhausted his options. He was entirely too ready to pretend that you'd won and snoop through your closet the second you walked away. Apparently his quick glance at said closet had given him away though, and with a quick deadpan stare alongside a scary sounding ❛ don't you dare. ❜ has his feet rooted to the floor.

Did his poker face really suck so bad .ᐣ He's definitely practicing it in the mirror later.

Ultimately, though, he trusts you completely and your choice in matching outfits is no exception, so he allows it to drop for now. There's still a few more days until the party, but that time could be spent much more productively by your side rather than whining about clothing.

That is, until the day of the party comes around and you bring out his outfit. You'd never seen Lucifer's jaw drop quite like that before and it takes iron will to stop yourself from giggling at his present state.

He doesn't understand the reference. Lucifer regrets his past decision to give humanity free will. It's obvious, even if he never seems to say it outright. He had given out such a precious gift and so much of humanity chose to abuse it, to be nothing but cruel. Looking at sinners and by extension humanity is just a terrible reminder of what he'd done, so he prefers to avoid it whenever possible. This quite often includes the media of the living realm -- he's never even heard about the movie, forget seeing it.

So without the full context, all he knows is that you've just handed him an absolutely atrocious outfit -- and to make it worse, you expect him to go out in it .ᐣ Seriously, he whinges, red overalls with a blue bow .ᐣ Rabbit ears .ᐣ And to make it worse, you won't even show him your outfit until he gets dressed .ᐟ He can't believe you're laughing.

He sounds completely and totally ridiculous, in your defense. Seriously, has he seen his regular outfit .ᐣ He looks absolutely stunning, sure -- but he also looks like he walked right out of a circus.

It says a lot, though, that despite the complete and total pity party he's currently throwing himself, he's beginning to shuffle into the costume anyway. He's grumbling the whole way, but the fact that he just doesn't have it in him to say no to you warms your heart.

You had been so, so eager about this party, and the way your eyes had shined like stars when you told him had long since burned itself into his heart.

wc ; 1.2k

His seemingly endless complaints had tapered off ever so slightly when you shimmied his grasp off of the ruby red suspenders sagging unbuttoned over his chest. By the time you take the fabric into your own hands his protests faded to little more than a mumble under his breath, and with the very first snap of a button in place under your gentle touch he'd quieted completely. Where a look of exasperation had reflected off his face seconds prior, in its place now is that of silent awe, his gaze trained on your every action. The gesture of intimacy is enough to leave Lucifer somewhat choked up, his heart still not used to receiving such acts of adoration and kindness. You tie the cornflower blue fabric adorned with tiny yellow spots into a bow to accentuate the costume and cover his hands briefly with your own as you slip the gloves onto his fingers.

Not twenty minutes had passed, and he finds his attitude regarding the ensemble shifting with every second you take to assist him into it. Each and every part of it looks ridiculous at best, but the thought of you picking it out solely for him has him warming up to the idea.

Declaring your work complete, you raise your grasp ever so slightly, palms holding each of his cheeks close, your thumbs rubbing soft little circles below his eyes. Your affections are sufficient only when finished with a kiss placed on his forehead. ❛ I'm going to go get dressed, okay .ᐣ No peeking. I promise I'll be right back. ❜

The way his wrists on instinct dart out to catch yours to bring you close to him again as you pull back nearly got you. He's extended his lips in a pout once more. You hate to leave him quite so sad looking but you know he'll appreciate what you have planned enough for it to be worth it.

Bathroom door shutting closed behind you, there's the smallest bit of lingering regret that he can't help you to get dressed like you had for him. The outfit itself takes you barely a few moments to slip into -- it's the makeup that requires precision, time and effort. His pacing around the bedroom is audible, impatient steps sounding into stomps, the sounds causing you to choke on a laugh. You need a steady hand for your eyeshadow and that's hard to maintain during an act quite as cute as this.

Nonetheless, your look is finished within half an hour and therefore Lucifer is put out of his misery. It's not a second after the door clicks open that his attention is caught, snapped to the light peaking out of the doorway. Stepping into the small hallway, your eyes are met with his own -- and the way his pupils widen as soon as he gets a glance of your dress makes both your efforts and his complaining worthwhile. His gaze takes you in from top to bottom, each detail enchanting him further. The dress so perfectly hugging your curves is crimson to match him and absolutely breathtaking -- and are you walking towards him .ᐣ Your strut does well to accentuate the slit stitched into the leg, your thigh tantalizing in its display.

Finally reclaiming your place beside him, one of your fingers reaches out, finding purchase under his chin -- and when you tilt his head up you swear you saw his eyes flash red. ❛ Hello, my darling husband, ❜ you coo, sending his already overloaded brain into a frenzy. Husband . . .ᐣ You wanted . . .ᐣ With him, really . . .ᐣ And although he's beginning to put the pieces together and clue in that such a term of endearment was part of your match, you seemed so happy to say it. He snaps his focus back onto just how stunning you look tonight, but the idea has firmly implanted itself into the depths of his mind.

Back into the present time, his hands have begun to roam -- he wants to commit every detail of you to memory, and that includes the feeling of your dresses fabric under his fingertips. His grasp is met with your own, for it's not long before you're pulling the straps of his suspenders, tugging him forward into a kiss. By the time he's recovered from his surprise enough to reciprocate, though, you're already beginning to pull away. He chases your lips with a whine but you've already moved on, pressing a kiss first to his cheek and then to his forehead. It's only when you offer him a small compact mirror does he understand -- each of your kisses has left behind a little bit of the lipstick you oh so painstakingly applied. Your marks on his face have left him entranced, desperately craving more.

A gasp rips itself from those same cherry red lips in surprise -- you weren't expecting him to summon forth his tail, much less wrap it around your midsection and use it to bring you closer. ❛ Kiss me again, ❜ He pleads, desperate and breathy. ❛ Anything for my honey bunny, ❜ you chime, matching the mark on his left cheek with one on the right. ❛ You just look so cute, ❜ between each kiss is another offering of praise and compliments, the blush left in your wake matching excellently. ❛ Who's my handsome bunny .ᐣ ❜

Your multitude of kisses has left Lucifer stunned and looking nothing short of angelic -- even more so than usual. You're fully intending on giving him several more, leaning in to do just that when the wall mounted clock besides you chimes a new hours arrival, alerting you to the time. ❛ Oh, dear. I'm very sorry, Mr. Rabbit, but I'm afraid we simply must be going. We don't want to be late, do we .ᐣ ❜

Fixing your lipstick takes all of a few seconds, leaving you free to grab a makeup wipe off the pouch resting atop your vanity and wipe all of the stains you'd adorned his face with away. A snap of his wrist catches yours just inches from his face, however, halting your plans in their tracks. Confused, you look to him for an explanation, a soft ❛ leave them. please .ᐣ ❜ being all he offers you. ❛ You're going to go to the party like this, love .ᐣ ❜ to which he nods sagely. He can't bear to part with them -- not when the lipstick marks are yours, not when they declare proudly that he is yours.

❛ If you say so, honey. ❜ You can't deny that the prospect leaves your heart fluttering. A grand, golden portal appears with a simple snap of his fingers and he takes your arm, now linked with his own in an attempt to usher you forward. He can't wait to show you off, to watch as other demons eyes glow green as they stare his way. You stay still, though, prompting him to look back at you with an air of confusion. It's then that you lean close, whispering ❛ be a good bunny and there will be more where that came from. too bad we'll have to wait until we come home, hmm .ᐣ ❜

Suddenly Lucifer can't wait for this party to be over.

I still can't believe I'd originally intended this to be 100 words and it ended up over a thousand. I can't help it, I'm so weak for anything Lucifer related. I'm half tempted to write an absolutely filthy post party part 2. If there's enough demand for it .ᐣ I just might.

As always, let me know what you think .ᐣ Hearing back from you guys keeps me motivated ~

[sirbird]

I have been seeing this goober everywhere

[socialiseisnotinmyname]

I just wanted to post this...

I did this like 2years!? ago

[losticaruss]

chronicles of narnia: prince caspian will forever be a tragedy to me, especially in the way the movie presents it. it opens with peter, desperate to return to the respect he deserves (or thinks he deserves), a fully grown man trapped in this child's, this stranger's body, still adjusting to the life he'd long since forgotten. he gets into a fight because it's natural to him. don't they realize who is he is? not selfishly (a little bit selfishly) he expects people, his siblings, the crowd, to be with him in battle. it's another battle to him, and edmund, lovely edmund, young edmund, edmund who was 12 and on the verge of death, edmund who loves his siblings the most one could ever love your own blood, is in the fray with him, and they fall back into the rhythm they were used to back home- back in narnia, and lucy and susan are screaming at them to stop, and edmund and peter see the soldiers coming home from war, and all they wants is to go back with them, and they understand how these soldiers feel, shell-shocked and distant and they want to fall into line with them, but they're kids and they're fighting other kids, they're not undisciplined, they're unadjusted. nothing changed but so did everything.

and they hop on the train and none of the pevensies want to talk about what happened and they end back in narnia and they're finally back in narnia they're home on the beaches of their home and it's a joy so grand that there's nothing they can do but go back to being kids- again, and they find cair paraval, and everything's gone- and the chessboard that edmund loved, the chessboard he played on when he first beat peter, is gone, there's nothing left of it, and they fall through the ruins like ghosts. here's the dining hall, the ballroom. remember this, lu? it used to be your bed. do you remember when you were so homesick you begged me to stay with you until you fell asleep? do you remember the way the garden bloomed in the spring? and they fall naturally in step into the dais, empty, not even the familiar sound of their shoes clacking against the polished floor. everything's gone now, of course it is. they knew how time worked in narnia, but it didn't happen to them. how could it move on without them? and they make their way into the lower floors, peter naturally falls into the trait of the leader, hes the first to forget the world they came from, but edmund, clever edmund, desperate edmund, brings a torch. he doesn't say how he packed it in his bag every day, how he packed it and prayed that they'd return. and everything is still there, in that room. nothing prepares you for seeing statues of your face- not your face, but what will be your face, what used to be your face- cracked and covered in moss. their crowns are there. everything is there. peters sword returns to his side, and it's the first time he looks complete since they left narnia. and they adventure- how much had changed? the trees are so much taller. how long now had they been gone? it was natural for narnia to have moved on, but they were meant to move on with them. peter tries to bring his siblings through his usual shortcuts, through an overpass, far from the well-trod paths that had cropped up since theyd been gone. he can't have been abandoned by his home, not so soon.

but he was. and there's a kid here, claiming to be the new ruler of narnia. who is he? he looks so young, and susan is looking at him and he's... looking back? and the civilians are looking at this stranger, this kid, like he's supposed to know what to do. had he even fought a battle? he rubs his beard- and is blocked by the bare skin of his chin (of course it's not there. he forgot.) and peter wants to be the bigger person, he's the high king, that's how it should be. but there are all these emotions he hadn't felt before- he thought, not in narnia at least. and he doesn't want to be the bigger person, he finds. stop looking at him like he should know what to do! he stands up to take over- his people forgot about him. he left and they forgot. and he sizes up this child as he speaks- high king peter of narnia, he says. the magnificent. and there it is, he thinks. the familiar look, shock, awe and- confusion? that's a new one- but not incorrect, as he realizes his situation.

he wants to be recognized how he used to be. the pevensies have returned to what they were, the warrior, the archer, the diplomat, the healer. and this new one, the one who wanted to be all four at once so desperately it made ed look wise. and finally- finally he gets his chance to shine, where he belongs, on the field, against The Enemy. of course, not how he'd like it, not in broad daylight, sword and armor gleaming, but it was the smart move. and he's filled with these emotions- not dread, or worry (maybe a little worry), but excitement, and everything is pounding in his head and the adrenaline- he forgot how good it feels- and he leads the army, his army. he's the warrior, the high king, and for a night, the people remember, they remember the golden age. and ed is brilliant, and peter can't help but grin with glee as he sees him pull of a maneuver that pete knows took months of training.

and then the hoards come and they're losing- they can't be losing, this was his chance! he's right, he's the king this was his chance to show them. and he cries for a retreat but it's too late- he was a fool, he watches his army, the army who trusted him, he watched them be slaughtered against the gates that had sealed their fate. he watched the blood spray and stain the metal, oozing between the stone bricks and he just stares. and it's all he can do and he wants- what does he want? to say he's sorry? to save them?

no- no, nothing like that. he should be in there with them. he should be gutted like the rest of them (a hero's death, not this cowards life). he went in too fast, too proud, he knows that. but to have these innocents follow him in willingly, blindly, and he's the one to make it out? it's unforgivable.

and then he's given another chance. a fight- a duel, to the death. he leaves the arena a victor, or he dies a martyr, and everyone forgets his sins of the night of the ambush. and he fights the best he can, he loses his helmet, he's injured and he can hear death whistling it's grim tune, and he almost doesn't pick up his sword, and he sees edmund, lovely edmund, young edmund, with hope in his eyes- with faith in his eyes, and peter knows, he certainly doesn't deserve the life he's been longing for, but he picks up his sword because his little brother, his little brother who almost died, whom he loves with all his heart and so much more. and he accepts it. he realizes he won't get it back, his golden age, but he can fight for edmund, for narnia. and he fights. he fights and he fights and he fights.

and when it's over he breaths the sweet narnian air, and he clasps the hand of caspian, another brother, not a blood one, nor a narnian one, but one of a deeper connection, deeper than any love, and he sees susan smiling. the pevensies and caspian are celebrated like kings, and the pevensies help caspian, still a child, overwhelmed with all this love, they guide him through it, preparing for the many days in the future when parades and celebrations fill the streets, and the people adore their rulers- their king.

it's their last time, he tells the others. once they leave, him and susan can't return. there's more on the other side, the other world, another way to return to narnia, to Aslan, and he doesn't share the fear in his heart. another way, but not this way. not through his home, where he's surrounded by it, drenched in it. not the same not the same, never the same again. they could stay, of course, says a foolish side of him. but not, they couldn't, it's stupid to say so. his mother- had he forgotten his mother so soon? she would go mad with loss. his golden age, it's come and past, and narnia moved on without him, and he steps through to the train station, not to his home, (no. he can never go home again.) and susan follows him, and she grasps his hand, a look shared between the two of them that she understands. and peter, one last chance to be the bigger person, he sees her loss and he squeezes her hand back. edmund and lucy they think they understand, and they grasp their elder siblings hands, and it's comforting, but peter and susan know, they know they won't understand, not until it's their turn, they won't know how empty it is, how lonely it is in this world.

so yeah. it's a tragedy

[chickenoptyrx]

Is literally a 'I like drawing the blorbos' brain rot thing :T I watched, then re-read nimona yesterday and this is just a nothing bit from the comic

[mokadevs]

fiammetta, on having your partner fall

[ra-vio]

“I thought of a design that would suit you”

[neurodivenport]

SIR! SIR! imma need you to be writing more nsfw chase fics! i have no shame. i need more. im on my hands and knees. credit card out and ready. i will even give you scenarios if you need some. im begging, crying, screaming, wailing, salivating, barking, meowing, purring, wobbling, and all the other i-n-g-s. you're the only one that gets into it. 😩

i literally love u… here’s something thats been floating in my brain for a hot minute (that i never wrote because of lack of motiv+ive been sick ugh)

but PLEASE send me scenarios if you have any! i ALWAYS wanna write stuff for him but its just about if i have actual ideas or not

its literally nothing but porn without plot under the cut you’ve been warned (chase davenport x gn!reader)

Chase had finally come up with a way to recharge without his capsule.

He spared you the nitty gritty of it, only telling you he had changed the way his entire room worked in order for him to sleep in your (now) shared bed. You told him he didn’t have to go through all that just because you wanted to sleep next to him- but he insisted that he was just as desperate to hold you, too.

The thought of that made you feel warm.

You watch as he turns off the light, cuddled up in his own set of pajamas, which you note have a little Davenport Industries logo on the side. He squeezes in next to you, lifting the covers above his body.

“I never knew how you slept without a blanket,” You note, “It’s so cold in your room… and you were just in a glass capsule.”

“Highly flexible industry grade polymer,” Chase corrects, with the ‘I’m a genius’ smile plastered on his cute face, “And these pajamas are designed to be warmer than blankets, with adjustable settings to regulate it to human body temperatures. You can also just turn those features off completely.”

You gape at him, eyebrows furrowed tight, watching as he giggles at your expression. “God, you Davenports are so strange.”

He just hums in response, a big, dumb grin lighting up his face.

You settle in, turning around to your side. When you feel him hesitating, you grasp his hand in yours, pulling his arm to slot over your side. He pulls you in tight, spooning your form against his. You feel his face bury itself into your neck, humming, nustling itself into your skin.

“‘S really nice,” Chase says after a few beats- voice muffled with his face in your neck.

You laugh a little, squeezing his hand. “It is for me too.”

You feel him push his body closer to yours, like he’s trying to get as close as he can. His hands bunch up at your pajama shirt, legs intertwining with yours, trying to pull you closer to him.

“Mm, Chase,” You hum, “You okay?”

“Mmhm,” He says, “I just- I want to be close to you.”

“I don’t think you can get any closer than this.” You giggle.

Chase hums in response. You know how clingy he can be, how touch starved he is, constantly clinging to you like a koala or a sloth to a tree. You bet he’d hold you for the rest of his life if he could- not getting up to a single other thing.

You feel his thumb barely touching the light hint of your skin that peeks out from your scrunched shirt, feather light and shaky. He’s praying you don’t notice him taking in your smell.

You slide your leg between his, intertwining your limbs to bring him ever tighter, pulling him forward with your tangled hands. You hear him grunt as he slots against your back, before stilling behind you, lifting his head off from your neck.

“Sorry.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about… until you feel it.

Oh.

Oh.

“Chase,” You breathe out a laugh, “It’s okay. Don’t apologize.”

“It just- it just happens.”

You can feel him trying to hover his crotch away from your ass, trying not to press his obvious hard-on against you. You two have had sex before- but since it’s still early in that stage of your relationship, his nerves are still never ending, never wanting to overstep a boundary.

You grab onto his hip, pulling him towards you to press just as tightly as he was before. He grunts at the contact, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“You don’t have to,” Chase says, ever the gentleman, voice laced with tensity.

“Chasey,” You breathe, knowing full well what any pet name does to him, “I like making you feel good.”

He lets out a long trembling breath at that. He stays silent for a minute, clearly contemplating something, the cogs in his brain practically audible.

“Can I, uh,” Chase stutters, fidgeting with your shirt. “Can I just… do this…?”

You feel him grind against your ass experimentally. That makes you moan, shifting it back against him, reveling in the soft, barely noticeable noise he makes.

“Go ahead, baby,” You encourage. “Get yourself off for me.”

That makes him whine, burying his face back into your neck. He can never get used to your vulgarity.

Chase’s hips start moving, softly humping against you. You hold his hips in aid, guiding him with more determined strokes.

“That feel good?” You ask. He moans softly, nodding his head.

His movements get faster as he adds more pressure, his hand gliding up your stomach. Sensing his hestiance, you grab his hand and place it on your chest, feeling him pinch a nipple from over your shirt.

“I’m-“ He starts, cutting himself off with a groan, “I’m close- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby, you’re doing such a good job for me. You deserve it. Let yourself go.”

Chase’s whines amp up in volume, getting more and more frequent while his thrusts lose their rhythm. He’s trying to muffle his sounds into your skin, embarrassed by how much he’s enjoying this.

With a final groan, he stills, legs twitching as you feel his pants dampen.

He’s panting as he comes down, barely moving. You reach back to pet his hair, turning and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. “Was that good?”

He hums in response, still high pitched and breathy. That makes you giggle, squeezing his cheek.

As you begin to push yourself up off the bed, you feel him grab you.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m just gonna get you a washcloth and new pajamas, don’t worry.”

Chase’s eyes are big and dreamy as he speaks. “I want- I want to return the favor.”

You smile, heart warming - knowing full well its not out of obligation but out of his own want.

“Can you do that in the shower?”

You’ve never seen him get up so fast.

[ozarkthedog]

i got the belly brain rot 🙃

inspired by @sin-djarin