Brainrot - Blog Posts
Hero
Deku x Reader NSFW
A/N + Summary: Once again, my daydreams are getting the better of my day. So I figured I’d share one of the dirtier ones that’s been on my mind lately.
Just imagine if One for All caused Deku to experience heat cycles. Then one day, the two of you were out(you’d tried to keep Deku at home, but his desire to save others often trumps out anything else, despite his never ending discomfort), and after a long day of hero work, the two of you had gotten on the train to head home. You knew Deku had been having trouble that day, and the way he clung to you definitely showed it.
Not proofread, sorry
Warnings: Mommy kink(alot of it, srry), sub deku, public sex, ahegao, handjobs on a train, t h i g h
ATR(About the Reader)
Reader is taller than Deku
Reader is a very high ranked hero
Reader is wearing a huge jacket(there’s a reason I promise)
Reader can’t make up her fucking mind
Reader is AFAB
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As bluntly as it could be said, the train was awfully slow. It seemed that way, at least. The crowd of people surrounding you and your boyfriend seemed to cause it to go even slower. An awful day for it to slow down, you thought, just as you began to feel Deku grow restless. You could feel his breath against you as he clung to you, face buried in your chest. His breathing was heavy. It was hard for him to distract himself when he was so close to you. Your scent enveloped him, the same scent he’d found himself addicted to, so it was no wonder he couldn’t stop himself from clinging to you.
“Deku...” you whispered, though he could barely hear you “Deku...! You have to hold it together. I know it’s difficult, but please try and wait until we get home.” After awhile, just when you’d started to give up hope on him even hearing, he answered.
“I-I....I c-can’t...wa-want you...wanna...wanna cum for mommy...” he began to plead, starting to grind himself against your thigh “F-forgive me...I’ve been such a bad...boy today...” your heart squeezed, he must’ve been struggling so much “p-plea-please...forgive me...p-please...” his tongue fell out as he openly panted, growing needy for more friction against his strained cock. “Baby...you know we can’t, we’re heroes! Imagine if someone caught us...!”
It was illegal...as far as you could tell(even for heroes of your status).
Still, you couldn’t help but want to assist him in some way. You looked around, then sighed. Your baby needed help, and you were a hero after all.
His hero.
And just like that, your thigh lifted up and pressed against his manhood, eliciting an immediate response. Izuku’s mouth opened wide, tongue sticking out as you began gently please him. His lewd expression amplified when he began to desperately rut into your soft flesh, taking your action as a go ahead. His eyes rolled back, and you pressed him against your body in an attempt to hide him.
You just had to go and choose a lover who couldn’t keep his vocals(or facial expressions) in check. Weirdo.
Almost immediately, he began to aggressively rut his crotch against your thigh. His mindless babbling continues of course
“F-fuck, s-s-so good mommy...please...please don’t st-ahHh-!” his face was pressed into your chest once again and(as if on instinct) he began to suck on the flesh that resided there. “S-so good...l-love you mo-mommy....wanna..wanna b-be a good boy for...for you..! Wanna cum...mommy...wanna cum for you...p-please..!”
“Shhh, it’s ok baby, mommy’ll let you cum, but you gotta be good and stay as quiet as possible, kay?” his cock throbbed at the chance of being good for you “Y-yes...I’ll be good..I’ll d-d-do my...mmMmy be-est...!” the boy had reached his high, burying his face in your clothing as his face morphed into the most lewd expression he’d ever made before. Izuku’s cock spurted into his boxers as his hips twitched and rolled against you, riding out his orgasm while he creamed all over himself.
The green haired boy wheezed against your frame, now coming down from an intense high. Possibly, the excitement of getting it on whilst on the train added to the excitement(it definitely did).
You figured you’d helped him calm down, and now he’d be able to wait until the two of you were home. That was, until he began to rut himself against you once more. “D-Deku...!” you whisper cried, this time a little more frantic “Listen, I gave you some leeway before but I’m serious this time! Please, try your best to hold out...!” his rutting continued, followed by many apologies “I’m so-sorry mommy...it won’t- it won’t stop...I-I..I can’t...!”
At that point, you were far too nervous to let this happen. So you grabbed Izuku’s soft cheeks(the ones on his face, anyway), and gave him a look so serious it almost scared the heat right out of him.
“Listen, Deku,” you said, softening your gaze almost immediately, as if looking into those eyes of his was enough to crack your attempt at a solid exterior “I know this is tough..but we can’t do this here,” even though you just did “you hear me? We can’t. So please...please...try and hold on till we get home..”
And then he stopped. He tried to at least.
He clutched onto you tighter than ever, holding himself still with a will he never knew he had. He couldn’t disappoint you. He couldn’t upset you. So he stopped.
Until he couldn’t.
Until it hurt.
Small groans began to escape from him after about five long minutes, and you began to worry. “B-baby...? It’s ok, baby...we’re almost there.”
“I-It hurts...” he whispered. Your heart broke. He was hurting himself to hold out for you. Oh, Izuku. What a lousy hero you were, putting your public image above his needs. Above something about him that he had no control over. No, that was enough of that. Fuck that. Fuck the law.
You loved Deku. You’d do anything for him. You were his hero, after all.
You felt you owed him this much, so with haste, you unzipped your jacket and wrapped it around him. It was huge, so it’d work nicely. “Y-Y/N...? W-what’s...” he inquired, just as you pulled him flush against your thigh once again. “Don’t worry, baby. Just hold on and mommy’ll fix everything.” Izuku gasped, clasping a hand over his mouth as he subconsciously attempted to follow your order to stay quiet.
It was hot. He was hot. Even moreso when you pulled out his cock and began to stroke it for all it’s worth. The bus was crowded, no one would know. You even considered getting down and sucking him off, but then, how would he stay quiet? As much as he could, anyway.
You’re hands always felt like heaven to him, so he couldn’t help but cry out for you as you began to pleasure his needy cock.
“M-mommy...th-that’s...n-no..I ca-can’t- I’ll cum- I’ll cum a-again...!” despite his weak protests, the way he mindlessly fucked himself into your hand gave him away. “S-so...so good...Mommy’s so...a-ahHah..g-gonna...go-gonna lose my- m-my mind...so gooood~” He kept his head down so the chatter of the train, mixed with your jacket kept him somewhat quiet. When he gripped onto you, beginning to moan at staccato, you knew he was close. He was gonna cum again, and you knew, but you didn’t care.
“M-mommy...! I-I can’t t-take it...! I’m gonna cum..! Gonna cum for mommy...gonna be a...a good boy...! Gotta cum...wanna cum...p-please! S-so good! Love you..love you..love m-mommy..!” You felt your heart swell at the honest confession, as well as him bucking into your hand. You watched as Izuku lost himself to you, forgetting about everything but you.
“I love you, too. Go ahead baby, you’re such a good boy. Cum for mommy, ok?”
And so he did. Pushing his cock back into his hero suit, you used your thigh the rest of the way, assuming he didn’t mind the mess it would cause. You tilted his head up, crashing your lips into his as those beautiful green eyes rolled back once again, eventually closing. Izuku squealed against your lips, drowning in ecstasy until finally, he began to come back down
Until
It moved again. Your thigh. His whimpers began again as well, overstimulated. You wanted to relieve him to the best of your ability.
You weren’t done.
One more time.
You know,
FINISH HIIIIMM
Like they say in those fighting games.
Your thigh pushed against him once again, making it much harder for him to control himself. Poor baby hadn’t been able to calm himself down. His hips bucked against you, moans stopping and starting with each thrust. “O-ohHh, f-fuck...mommy...can-can’t..! M-my hips won’t st-stop..! So g-good...a-amaz-zing...” Tongue out, eyes back, full ahegao. At this point, he’d gotten on his tip toes to keep the friction going. And you were right there with him, egging him on.
“Good boy. That’s right. Such a good boy for me, cum lots okay?”
and he did.
“M-mommy...can-can’t! I-I...ahHhAh- I-It’s gonna- Oh, fuck. I’m...I’m cumming...I-I’m cumming...cummingcummingcummingcumming...I-I...!”
And then he was quiet.
And then he broke.
You zipped your jacket up higher, as to cover his head, pressing him against you as hard as possible. He screeched. Screamed. He couldn’t take it. His tongue hung out, and he practically vibrated against you.
It was enough to cause the passengers to look around. Luckily, the only opening on your jacket was the one that allowed for your legs, so most of his sound was directed downwards. And when you looked around all confused as well, the passengers were none the wiser.
despite the obvious buldge in your jacket and probably the light smell of cum but like who cares this is fanfiction and logic doesn’t exist
And then, finally, it was your stop. But Deku wouldn’t move. Then you realized.
He’d passed out!
Luckily you were strong, so you hoisted him up and hurried out, making sure to unzip the top of your jacket so he could breath. You sped home, ignoring fans and trying to lay low.
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Izuku’s hair fluffed up when you removed him makeshift bed you’d unknowingly created for him. You laid him gently against the bed, unzipping his hero suit to deal with the first issue. It was revealed to you then. And it was nothing short of...
Disgusting.
But alas, not all heroes wear capes. Some wash clothes. So as easily as possible(and without gagging) you peeled the suit off of him. Hurriedly, you took it off and got to wiping your lover down, careful not to wake him. Once that was finished, you went to take care of the suit you ruined. And once that was done, you were done. Except you weren’t.
When you finally got back to your room you realized you also had to clothe Deku. Of course, this would only be the case had you not found him awake and on his stomach, flashing that plump ass toward you.
“Mommy...?” he called “I love you~” the green hero shook his ass teasingly, peering back at you with those eyes you’d fallen in love with so long ago.
Whew, boy. Who knew being with the number one hero would be so much work?
Well you were his hero, after all.
i wish i could feel the same way i felt when i read this for the first time. one of my absolute favorite pieces of writing ever. i think about it all the time.
COMPLETED (2/2)
Part One: “Devils Roll The Dice”
JJ and Y/N‘s friendship has been different since they secretly started hooking up. With new feelings stirred up by the recent change in their relationship, Y/N avoids JJ until the Pogues gather them together for a Fourth of July party that can only end in chaos.
Warnings: Implied sexual content, strong language, alcohol consumption, angst, implied physical abuse, and mild violence.
Word Count: 17k
Part Two: “Angels Roll Their Eyes”
Hurricane Agatha approaches Kildare Island during the aftermath of the eventful Fourth of July party. JJ and Y/N are determined to continue avoiding each other after what happened at the party, but John B, Kiara, and Pope have other plans for them.
Warnings: Smut, strong language, angst, implied physical abuse, depictions of anxiety/panic attacks, and sickeningly sweet fluff.
Word Count: 24k
(gif: @jackpearcsn)
Hey gang, more Dogman memes, with some max design pro…..
(Image not mine/credit is in the picture itself, plz go see their social)
This ship is just Electro Swing. Prove me wrong. This is literally just my middle school playlist.
P.s. I DONT SHIP THEM!!! I don't ship ANYONE with Alastor for obvious reasons, and no one with Vox cuz I don't care enough.
Meanwhile, Tony and Peter, in the background, fucking.
they're glued to each other bruu It's like in every universe
freaky tsum tsum
Just watched the first ep of My Adventures With Superman
I love it. Adorkable Superman! Bubbly Luz Lois! Cryptid hunter Jimmy!
I can feel the brain rot setting in
you are so goated sigma meal skibidi slicers baby gronk icl ts pmo sybau chicken jockey positive aura points fries in the bag 💗💞🥀
Awhhh thank you baby abcdefghijklmnop❤️💞 You're so adorable honda civic Qrstuv wxyz💔💔 mmhm, I can speak gen alpha im so hippity hip hop cool for my age🥰
Who is she?
[This is a my own small drabble for a oc of mine. It's a genshin oc, ilomilo by Billie Ellish and Who Is She by I Monster really fed into this. Thinking of just doing a oc word vomit one day ong]
The dull ache intensifying as their ragged breaths filled the small space. Images of a woman that looked so much like them flashing through their head. Vision blurring from the real world to something that looked so familiar.
But how?
Who was this mystery woman that had their exact face? It was as if the 'thing' they are now is a fake. Her bright smile and gleaming eyes, mockingly staring back at them. As if to haunt them, to tell them that this is just all a past memory. Something they'll never have again but can only crave.
Crave...
Crave?
How could they crave something when they've never felt it before. Right? Their supposed to not feel emotion. So why is it that they are haggard in a small crumbled ball, feeling conflicted. The cool metal lab floor digging into their knees.
It hurts...it hurts...it hurts
WHY DOES IT HURT!?
"A....ye.......Aye....sha..." A muffled distorted voice pushing through their subconscious. As if someone was trying to gain their attention. The splitting headache just making it unbearable for her to withstand. Finger nubs digging into the ruby locks that fall over their shoulder.
Palm flat against the shell of their ear, trying to block out the mess around them. Eyes squeezed shut in hopes that these flashes of this woman would stop. Gasping and eyes shooting open at the feel of an all too familiar gloved hand. The leather making her skin burn, but in this state, a small part of her wanted to lean towards them. Wanting to seek something from them like a distant memory.
"Ayesha!" In front of them stood what everyone referred to as 'The Doctor'. Someone that they refers to as...their creator.
His mask staring back at them as their blood shot eyes stared up at him. Kneeled before them, head fuzzy like they were stuck in a trance. Vision coming back into focus at the swipe of something on their cheek. Gaze tracking down to the material of the doctors glove that was just a few centimeters from them. A glossy substance on the pad of his glove. Reaching up to touch the area that he had touched, fingers ghosting over the mystery substance. Pulling back their hands to examine it, squinting at the clear liquid that had rubbed off on themselves.
Finally focusing on the feel of the wet liquid running down their face. These were...tears?
"Was it happening again? The visions of the woman?" The same question he would repeat whenever they would get like this. It sounded more like a inspection question then one from concern. It's always been that way, as long they can remember at least.
Feeling the urge to hold back about how vivid they became. Even though it was against their training to keep secrets...this time they felt as they should. It was just gonna be the same process as before, it always was. This incident would just be erased from the little memory they had. Most parts of their time here were, the ones that remained were filled with Dottore and metal walls.
The most vivid ones were those behind the glass wall and the cold metal table they'd lay on. Screams echoing in the silence, machinery whirring in the background.
Nodding to Dottore's interrogation as they forced a wad of thick saliva down their throat. Which did nothing much but make it feel more dry than before. Hands clenching on their knees, expecting his next words.
"Hmm, well then, back to the machine it is. Let's go, Ayesha" His gentle hand that was cradling their face immediately pulled away. As if they were a disgust to him, Dotorre's small flicker of emotion showing past his mask. Tight lipped as he stood, heading behind the glass walls.
Sucking in a sharp breath between their teeth, rising to their feet. Following after their creator obediently despite knowing the pain they'll have to endure again. The ache subsiding and feeling the emptiness that comes after their melt down. One of the few emotions that they were still familiar with.
Oc brain rot hits hard rn, might post the sketch later, who knows 🤷♀️
I did two things at school of just one oc 😭
Imma def have no inspo for the rest of them later on (I'm a liar, I have so many wip)
Guys guys guys the welcome home/Wally brainrot is so real help 😭 I can't stop drawing this mf
HE'S SO DRAWABLE IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT
found this caption thing on the offical slugterra facebook account so ofc i had to ruin it
Here is the blank one if you want to do it too
❝Too Far Gone❞
Mark Grayson x Brainrot Girlfriend!Readerᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
˗ˏˋ 𓉘 Part 2 of ”Corruption Complete” 𓉝ˎˊ˗
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
🦈 summary: mark’s corruption arc continues. he’s made it to the dark side—but the brainrot never ends. from forced meme bootcamp to cursed movie nights and chaotic friend group crossovers, mark’s peace is officially gone. and now… he might kind of like it?
🦈 contains: sfw. modern brainrot. fandom jokes. reluctant!mark, chaotic!reader. oliver returns with more menace. debbie thrives. william + rick join the chaos. wine obsessed!debbie. amber vs eve. tiktok audios. cursed AI videos. gacha reactions. passive-aggressive memes. „tragic boy 2.0”
🦈 wc: 2187
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: we’re back, baby. this was supposed to be a joke, and now it’s a saga. blame mark for folding like a wet napkin. shout-out to the “ballerina cappuccina” for lighting this fire. enjoy the chaos.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Mark stared at the whiteboard in front of him like it was written in an alien dialect. Which, to be fair, was only partially inaccurate.
“Okay,” you said brightly, tapping the marker against your palm. “Let’s review: What does it mean if I say ‘she’s giving One Direction in 2013 with a sprinkle of Tumblr Sexy Man pipeline energy’?”
Mark blinked once. Twice.
Oliver leaned forward like a predator scenting fear. “Say it, Mark. Say the answer.”
Mark sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “It… means she’s popular?”
“Popular how?” you challenged. “Contextualize it.”
“She’s… trending?” he tried.
“Wrong,” Oliver said, shaking his head gravely. “You’ve just been hit with a ✨deduction✨.”
He clicked a buzzer. Where it came from, no one knew. Where it went after that, no one wanted to ask.
You turned back to the board, adding another tally to the “Cringe Counter” in red marker. Mark’s score was now dangerously close to being labeled “culturally illiterate.”
“This is so dumb,” he grumbled. “This isn’t even a real language.”
“It is to us,” you and Oliver said in perfect sync.
Mark muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “cult behavior.”
You ignored him, moving to the next slide. A collage of pixelated TikTok reaction memes flashed onto the screen. “Okay, rapid-fire round: What’s the audio for this one?”
Mark squinted. “Is that… a raccoon in a nun outfit?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point,” you snapped.
Oliver gasped. “You don’t know the ‘Father, forgive me, but she was SERVING’ audio?!”
Mark opened his mouth. Closed it. “Why would I ever need to know that?”
“Because one day you might be the raccoon in the nun outfit, Mark,” you said, eyes burning with brainrot conviction.
He slumped back on the couch. “I regret everything.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
What was supposed to be a calm, relaxing day became a Friday Movie Night. Which, in your (the Graysons’) household, meant one thing:
No peace. No mercy. Only WiFi-fueled chaos.
It started innocently. You were lounging on the couch, half-scrolling and half-plotting dinner, when Debbie offhandedly said, “We should watch something tonight.”
You, of course, took that as a declaration of war.
Ten minutes later, the lights were dimmed, the coffee table was drowning in chips and half-melted gummies, and everyone had been emotionally blackmailed into joining.
(“Mark, you saved the world. You can survive one night of meme cinema.”)
Mark sat like a hostage. William arrived mid-chaos with Rick, who brought snacks and the wrong kind of emotional preparedness. Debbie brought wine. Oliver brought his entire personality.
You? You brought a curated playlist of AI-generated edits that actively offended the concept of linear storytelling.
“Okay,” you announced, remote in hand. “Tonight’s film festival opens with: Edward Cullen breakdancing in front of an explosion to Skyfall.”
“…Why?” Mark asked, already regretting being born.
“Art,” Oliver whispered reverently.
The video began. Within fifteen seconds, Comic Sans text scrolled across the screen:
‘When he says forever but leaves the Minecraft server.’
Rick blinked. “I have so many questions.”
William, eyes wide, leaned in. “And none of them matter.”
The next clip was somehow worse—or better. AI-generated Loki slow dancing with the Riddler at prom while Will Smith stood in the corner like a disappointed gym teacher. The audio? A slowed-down remix of Let It Go over Sandstorm.
No one blinked.
“I hate this,” Mark whispered.
“You’re watching it,” you replied sweetly.
“…Shut up.”
Oliver pulled out a scoring notebook. “Okay, rating time. Editing? 10. Trauma delivery? 12.”
“Is there symbolism?” Rick asked, way too seriously.
“Absolutely,” William said. “The Riddler’s bowtie was a metaphor for late-stage capitalism.”
Even Debbie chimed in with a solid, “The pacing in the Subway Voldemort edit was weird, but I respect the emotional core.”
By the third cursed slideshow, everyone had a ranking system, emotional stakes, and deeply divided opinions about whether or not Gandalf doing a TikTok dance counted as character assassination.
Mark didn’t get up. Didn’t leave. Didn’t even look away. He just sighed.
And for some ridiculously stupid reason?
He didn’t hate it.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
It happened on a Tuesday.
A simple, forgettable Tuesday. Rain outside. Soup on the stove. A blanket of rare peace over the house.
And then Mark opened his mouth.
“You’re being real ‘girl who fell off the swing in 2012 and never emotionally recovered’ right now.”
Silence.
Your spoon hovered mid-air.
Oliver, across the room, slowly turned like an animatronic coming online.
Debbie looked up from her crossword, one eyebrow arched with terrifying accuracy.
“What,” you breathed.
Mark blinked, backtracking immediately. “I mean—not like that. I wasn’t saying you were—It’s just—I saw a TikTok—”
“A TikTok,” Oliver echoed, mouth spreading into a villainous grin. “So you have been studying.”
“I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”
“You quoted a cultural meme tag with precision,” you gasped. “Unprovoked.”
Mark stood frozen in the kitchen doorway like a raccoon caught in the fridge light.
“I blacked out,” he tried.
“You blacked in,” Oliver corrected, dramatically pointing. “Welcome to the hive mind.”
Debbie didn’t say anything, just sipped her wine with the smugness of a woman watching her son descend into madness she fully supported.
You dramatically slammed your hand on the counter. “You mocked us.”
“I still do.”
“And yet!” you shrieked, gesturing wildly. “You knew what that meant!”
Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “This is your fault.”
“You’re damn right it is.”
Oliver held up the whiteboard from earlier and slapped a gold star beside Mark’s name. “Corruption milestone achieved: accidental meme reference in domestic context.”
“You’ve fallen,” you said softly. “You’re one of us now.”
Mark didn’t respond.
But he did mutter “she’s giving ‘delulu but functioning’” under his breath an hour later.
Oliver tackled him with a celebratory pillow.
You cried actual tears.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
What started as a casual group hang spiraled—as most things in your social circle did—into chaos within twenty minutes.
Amber had stopped by under the innocent promise of “a chill night.” She brought wine, even wore slippers. Her guard was down.
Eve was already there. Cross-legged on the rug, hoodie half-zipped, energy drink in hand like it was liquid law.
Amber settles in with a sigh. “I was promised snacks and serotonin.”
Eve flops down beside her, stealing a chip from Mark’s bowl. “And yet you walked into psychological warfare.”
The TV is paused on a cursed slideshow. The image? A freeze frame of Shrek photoshopped into a Renaissance painting, holding hands with a pixelated Garfield.
The caption reads: “when you and your emotional support cryptid walk into therapy”
Amber groans. “No. Absolutely not.”
Eve perks up. “Why not? That one’s a classic.”
“It’s blasphemy.”
“It’s art.”
“It’s Garfield in a toga.”
“Exactly.”
Amber throws her hands up. “Why is he glowing?”
Mark, exhausted from the last three meme dissections, doesn’t even look up. “Symbolism.”
“Thank you!” Eve beams.
“Don’t encourage her,” Amber mutters, taking a swig of wine.
You sit smugly between them, remote in hand, before asking. “Next slide?”
“Absolutely.” The red-haired girl encouraged.
“I will scream.” Amber promised.
The next image pops up—a tier list ranking internet boyfriends. At the top? Invincible, labeled: ‘tragedy-coded, would cry during WALL-E’
Directly beneath him—Paddington Bear and that guy who fixed his crush’s WiFi in a TikTok once.
Amber squints. “What does this even mean.”
Eve leans in like a scholar. “It’s a commentary on emotional vulnerability in male-coded narratives.”
“You just made that up.”
“I did, and I stand by it.”
William mutters, “I’d date Paddington. He’s stable.”
“That coat? Immaculate.” His boyfriend adds.
Amber glances at you. “Are your friends okay?”
“Absolutely not.”
Oliver, feeling slightly left out, stirs up some drama. “Mark’s at risk of joining the list if he cries during Finding Nemo.”
“I DIDN’T CRY.”
“You sniffled,” Debbie says from the kitchen.
By the end of the night, Eve and Amber are locked in a passionate debate about whether or not liking Remy from Ratatouille is a red flag, William is drawing diagrams to explain meme evolution, and Mark’s soul has visibly left his body.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
It was supposed to be harmless.
A passing moment. A flicker in the chaos.
You hadn’t even meant to record him. Not really.
You were filming Oliver’s dramatic reenactment of the “I’m just a baby!” audio using sock puppets and half of Rick’s hoodie when Mark walked by in the background—bored, hoodie half-on, sipping orange juice straight from the carton.
And then, with zero prompting, he did it.
He hit a trend pose.
Perfectly.
He didn’t even notice he’d done it. Just sipped, blinked, walked off like nothing happened.
Everyone stared.
“…Did he just—?” William whispered.
Oliver stood frozen mid-puppet grab. “Roll it back.”
You did.
And there it was: textbook trend behavior. Down to the head tilt.
“Put that on the internet,” Eve said, eyes wide. “Now.”
“No,” Mark said immediately, from the kitchen.
“Yes,” everyone else said in unison.
You posted it. You didn’t even try to be subtle. The caption?
’when the trauma makes you trendable. #tragedyboy2.0’
By the end of the night, it had 40k views.
By morning, 200k.
╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮
ြ The comments were chaos:
➤“he’s so emotionally charged I could fix him AND he’d thank me”
➤“when you cry to Mitski but still hit a clean pose?? king”
➤“tragedy boy 2.0 just dropped and I’m obsessed”
╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯
Mark stared at your phone, expression blank.
“I didn’t even do anything,” he muttered.
“That’s the point,” Rick said, nodding.
“Tragic aura,” Amber added.
“It’s the silent suffering that sells,” William confirmed, sipping his smoothie.
You handed Mark your phone with a smile. “Congrats. You’re a meme now.”
He stared at the screen.
Then at you.
“…I’m deleting all of your editing apps.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You need help.”
“YOU TREND IN SILENCE.”
From the hallway, Debbie called out. “Make sure to tag me next time. I’ve got burner accounts ready!”
Mark buried his face in his hands.
Somewhere, a comment called him “WALL-E coded.” Another simply said, “blink twice if you need therapy, blink once if you already went and it didn’t work.”
He blinked once.
The internet cheered.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
It started out as a joke.
A throwaway mention. A cursed sentence uttered in the depths of a late-night scroll session:
“Imagine if there was a Gacha Life video of Nolan betraying Earth.”
You had said it. Mark had groaned. Oliver had gasped.
And twenty minutes later—you were all gathered on the couch, screen mirroring a Gacha reaction video with a thumbnail that read:
“Invincible Characters React to Nolan’s Betrayal (SAD/CRYING/REAL)”
The title card was Comic Sans. The music was royalty-free piano tragedy. The vibes? Devastating.
Mark looked like he was about to walk into traffic.
“Why is my Gacha self crying in the corner?” he asked, horrified.
“Character depth,” you replied.
The video played.
Pixelated Gacha!Debbie gasped in slow motion as Gacha!Nolan punched Gacha!Mark into orbit. A single animated tear rolled down her face and sparkled. The screen flashed:
“TO BE CONTINUED…?”
“Oh my god,” Rick whispered. “They gave it a cliffhanger.”
“Of real history,” William added. “This is art.”
Debbie blinked at the screen. “Wait. That’s supposed to be me?”
“She looks twelve.” Amber said.
Eve raised her martini drink. “I respect the commitment.”
Meanwhile, Gacha!Mark lay motionless on the screen, sparkles and red overlay blood pooling dramatically as a voiceover whispered: “He was just a boy.”
Mark put his head in his hands. “This should be illegal.”
Oliver patted his shoulder. “That’s what makes it so powerful.”
By the end, there was a montage of Gacha!Mark’s “best moments” set to a slowed-down nightcore remix of “My Heart Will Go On.” The subtitles read: “Mark… you were the light in our darkness.”
No one spoke for a solid fifteen seconds.
Then you wiped a fake tear and said, “They got your trauma arc better than the actual writers.”
Mark muttered, “I’m moving out.”
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•∘˙○˚.⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨🪼୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•
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By now, the “Tragedy Boy 2.0” clip had gone viral enough to birth its own ecosystem—edits, fancams, conspiracy theories.
And Debbie?
Debbie was thriving.
She’d quietly created an account under the name @markgraysondefenseunit, and she was everywhere.
╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮
ြ Commenting on hate:
➥”he looks like he cries after arguments”
╰┈➤ @markgraysondefenseunit: “He resolves his trauma. Do YOU?”
╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯
Debbie hit send, sipped her wine, and smiled like she just ended a war.
╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮
ြ Fighting trolls:
➥“mid hero tbh”
╰┈➤ @markgraysondefenseunit: “Tell that to the asteroid he punched.”
╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯
She cracked her knuckles before typing that one. Felt good.
╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮
ြ Replying to thirst:
➥“me n him rn [photo of two frogs cuddling]”
╰┈➤ @markgraysondefenseunit: “wrap it up sweetie, you’re not his type.”
╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯
Debbie raised an eyebrow, muttered “delusional,” and hit send without flinching.
For her defense—she did tell Mark about it, not her fault everyone thought she was just joking around.
So she stayed silent.
Until the day he scrolled through comments on his own post and paused.
“…Why does one of these accounts call me ‘my brave little meatball’?”
You smiled, innocent. “Huh. Weird.”
Oliver snorted into his juice.
From the kitchen, Debbie sipped her wine.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
a/n: this was supposed to be short. it was not. it got out of hand. again. also—did anyone clock my weird obsession with Tuesdays or are we all just politely ignoring it? be honest.
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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
With Love, @alive-gh0st
❝Corruption Complete❞
Mark Grayson x Brainrot Girlfriend!Readerᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
𓊆ྀིfeat. Oliver & Debbie Grayson𓊇ྀི
˗ˏˋ 𓉘 Part 2 — ”Too Far Gone” 𓉝 ˎˊ˗
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
🦖 summary: mark’s trying to enjoy a quiet night at home. too bad his girlfriend has just discovered a new hyperfixation—and now oliver’s in on it. debbie joins next. mark’s officially outnumbered.
🦖 contains: sfw. modern brainrot. fandom jokes. long-suffering boyfriend!Mark. brainrot!reader. tiktok trends. group roasting. oliver is a smug little shit. debbie is thriving. mark just wants peace. comedic fluff, banter, affectionate roasting, domestic vibes. silly chaos.
🦖 wc: 722
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: i wrote this instead of doing literally anything productive. it started as a joke and now it’s got lore. enjoy my descent. also, yes—i know, the title is 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
It started innocently enough.
You were sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, tears streaming down your face as you watched an AI-generated TikTok video.
“Mark—Mark, look!” You shoved your phone in his face. It almost smacked him in the nose, but it’s fine. He’s literally [Title Card].
Moving on.
He squinted at the screen. “Is that… a cat in a firefighter uniform?”
“Yes! It’s so tragic and inspiring. The kitten was rescued from a fire, grew up to become a firefighter, and then died heroically saving a child. And—listen to this—it reunited with its grandma in the afterlife.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “You cried over an AI-generated cat video?”
“It’s not just a video, Mark. It’s art.”
➽─────────❥
The descent into chaos was swift.
A few days later, Oliver burst into the living room (nearly crashing into a wall), eyes wide with excitement.
“Have you seen the ‘Ballerina Cappuccina’ trend?!” he blurted, practically vibrating.
You gasped, sitting up. “Yes! The one with the cappuccino-headed ballerina pirouetting into the void?”
Oliver nodded vigorously. “It’s peak brainrot.”
Mark groaned from the kitchen. “Not you too, Oliver.”
“It’s a cultural movement, Mark.” Oliver said, deadpan.
Not even ten minutes later, real chaos began…..Debbie’s curiosity was piqued.
She entered the kitchen, holding her phone while pursing her lips.
“Kids, what’s this ‘Bombardino Crocodilo’ thing?”
You and Oliver made eye contact, then—without speaking—played the audio simultaneously: “FORZA BOMBA!”
Debbie blinked. Then looked at Mark—who didn’t even look up, just slumped lower against the cabinets like the universe was personally attacking him.
“Well, that’s… something.”
➽─────────❥
A quiet evening turned into a bonding session.
With Mark and Oliver out training because let’s be real—that boy needs some serious teaching, you and Debbie settled on the couch. She sipped her wine, a mischievous glint in her eye like she’s about to drop a bomb.
“You know,” Debbie says casually, “Nolan once gave me a whole tree instead of flowers.”
You blink, taking your eyes off the TV. “Like… an actual tree?”
“He said, and I quote, ‘Why bring a branch when I can bring the whole organism?’”
“I kept it,” she says. “Still in the backyard. Useless man, but decent taste in flora.”
You clutch your heart. “That’s the bar. If Mark doesn’t deliver a redwood to my house within 72 hours, we’re over.”
As if summoned Mark walks back into the house with snacks and an expression of pure betrayal. “I brought you chips.”
“Does the chip bag photosynthesize?” you ask sweetly.
➽─────────❥
The ‘Pass the Phone’ challenge ensued.
Feeling strangely inspired (which should’ve been a red flag), you declared: “Let’s do the ‘Pass the Phone’ challenge!”
Everyone agreed way too quickly.
You started the recording. “I’m passing the phone to someone who still doesn’t understand TikTok.”
Mark raised a brow, sighed like a man defeated, and took the phone. “I’m passing the phone to someone who’s been on TikTok for five minutes and already has a fan club.”
He passed it to Oliver.
The purple boy—who was just happy to be here—beamed straight up at the phone screen. “I’m passing the phone to someone who once received a tree as a romantic gesture!”
He hands it to Debbie, who only laughs.
“Guilty as charged.”
➽─────────❥
╒════════════════𝜗𝜚
ACTUAL QUOTES FROM THE EVENING:
➥ „I swear to god if you post that TikTok—”
➥ „Too late. It’s already at 40k views. You’re famous now, tragedy boy.”
➥ „You said you wouldn’t bring up Amber! And—why are people simping over my MUM!”
➥ „Because she’s a baddie, Mark.”
ꪆৎ════════════════╛
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
•∘˙○˚.⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨🐊୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•
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Mark stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching his mom and little brother conspire with you over delusional fan theories and imaginary men.
“…I want in,” he said.
Everyone froze.
You blinked. “Wait, what?”
“I’m tired of fighting it. I need to understand the brainrot. Teach me your ways.”
Oliver threw his arms in the air. “HE’S CONVERTING.”
Debbie raised her wineglass. “To the dark side.”
You grinned, scooting over and patting the space beside you. “Welcome to hell, babe. First lesson—rank these fictional men based on how they would treat you.”
Mark sighed. “I already regret this.”
“You will,” you promised. “Now take this blanket. We’re about to watch a seven-part edit of Tim Cheese killing John Pork.”
“…and no, you can’t ask questions.”
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ With Love, @alive-gh0st
Night sketches lol... Some brainrot for ya
i hate him but i'd fuck the shit out of him
i never have inspiration for anything and the literal fucking BUSIEST WEEK EVER is just the right time to have tons and tons of inspiration for zosan stuff I HATE IT..............
i hope some of these ideas come to see light someday.
Skibidi Skibidi
Hawk Tuah Hawk
Skibidi King
Who Gives Out Blumpkins
Edging And Gooninh
And Learning To Munt
Dripping Cheese
All Over My Lunch
Skibidi Skibidi
Hawk Tuah Hawk
Skibidi Boom
Or Skibidi Doom
Edging And Gooning
In Ohio Square
Stinky Back Shot Air
🪅🧑🎄🧚🎁🎶🎄🦃🎅🤶
Last Rizzmas, I gave you my gyatt🎄🍑
But tthe very next day, you gave me your Drake 😞🍆
This year, no skibidi rizz 🥵❌
Im edging with someone sigma 👬💦
Last Rizzmas, I gave you a Prime 🍾
And tthe very next day, you showed your Balkan rage 😡🤬
This year, no skibidi rizz 🥵❌
I'll griddy with someone sigma 🕺🕺
narrative structure i am begging you not to turn into a series of vaguely connected emotional breakdowns. narrative structure please help me form a cohesive storyline. narrative structure you were supposed to have THREE ACTS not seventeen feral gremlins fighting in a trench coat over tone and pacing.
Fuck, this hit too hard, god no 😭
My mama didn't raise a quitter..
She didn't raise a winner either so imma do the secret third thing and rot in my bed 👍
You both need help. In VERY different areas. I will stand what I'm saying.
@vile-villainess I'm putting @bruisedandbeloved in a rehab program, I found her having a staring contest with a cat last night. . .
You feed her delusions, no wonder she likes you so much.
23 hours sober and I think I realised why the prison guards thought I was a drug addiction because I kept screaming "POWDER. I NEED POWDER!" . Damn, the things sobriety can do am I right?
@vile-villainess @piltover-bulwark @piltovers-sweetest-cupcake
why did I laugh so hard when reading this... i showed this to my friend and we were dyinggg for like ten minutes
this is why i don't go to public school
“Trojan, stop their doomscrolling!”
Random thought: guys I LOVE fluffy pajamas, like I want to cuddle with my S/O in those and snuggle under a blanket in winter while surrounded by cats. Am I asking too much?
Need some1 to kiss me like Astarion in bg3 when he says 'on your knees, Darling'
Need some1 to kiss me like in all those damn fanfictions
Need someone to hold/grab me by the throat
Need- need some1 to press me against smth or pull me against them or on their lap
Need some1 to push their tongue in my mouth and kiss me until I'm leaning against them, melting in their hold, make me swallow their.. your, spit, make me moan against your lips and cling onto you, make me not wanna let go, make me loose my breath, make me roll back my eyes and whine for more
God.. someone's just please fucking make out with me or sum
I’ve been having HLVRAI brainrot since July/August of 2021 dear god help me
can everyone reblog with the interest of theirs that was the most intense or continued for the longest because i’m so curious