#Brainrot caught up to me again

[beaudesoleil]

the dove

[ragesingoddess]

Odysseus, on his journey home to Ithaca, was visited by a ghost.

[wispurring-moss]

*stumbles back onto this blog utterly disheveled & covered in blood*

...anyways. back on my bullshit lmfao

[o-wild-west-wind]

in my Stede Bonnet era (ignoring my responsibilities & fucking off to the waterside to sit with a cup of tea and my old sailing manual ft. my new best friend, Dryocampa rubicunda)

[sereneslash]

im back again sorry for all the incoming bg3 shit. if you see me posting like a rabid dog about shadowheart or karlach do not say anything and if you see me rb anything about wyllstarion DO NOT SAY ANYTHING it's already embarrassing enough

[a-random-warrior]

Woagg Pizza Tower oc

(Read more for bad old art and more info [rambles])

The difference between 2023 and 2024 is so funny to me. Boy, why were you so tiny?

He still wears the jacket thing he just doesn't wear it often bc he hates wearing clothes.

He's 28 years old and like 6'3ish

He uses he/him but doesn't mind they/them

He's friends with Gerome, Noisette, the fake Peppinos, the noiseys, and the Noise, tho moreso acquaintances. (I could go on about how he met them, but I'm not sure if anyone's actually gonna read this lol)

He only stayed in the tower until it collapsed bc he was worried about the fake Peppinos and bc he could tinker away

Gameplay wise, you'd find him on the 5th floor in his "room" somewhere around the elevator and pizzascare. (it's just a random room he claimed. He doesn't even have a bed in there)

He despises the toppin animatronics. He tries to go as long as he can before he's forced to check to make sure they're workin.

His species is a fiend? I think that's what I'm gonna call them idk

He always had a shadow on his face when wearing a hat, no matter what type.

He has different prosthetics that he made. He just perfers the one shown

He can foam at the mouth on command! He only really does it on accident when he's pissed. He does it sometimes to get out of social situations or just to fuck with ppl

Alright, time to stop ramblin. sorryyy

[megapteraurelia]

suna rintarou's throaty groans and the slick sounds of his spit-soaked fist dragging against his cock echoed in your ears. he was panting, swallowing, breath heavy, the pleasure overwhelming him so much that his tenor started to go into head voice, short high-pitched gasps leaving him, ah— ah-haah- ah—, whines, words escaping him that were a mix of garbled and pleading, that asked for your pussy because— g-god, ple-hah!-ease, i want t'sink into you s-so bad-ngh hn-ah— n-need your pussssy grip- swallowing, -ping me, please please plea-ha-haah—

with wide eyes, chest expanding deeply and heavily once, a severe blush having spread out all over your cheeks and your neck down to your cleavage, you sat there in the library, gripping your book tightly.

—y-you don't und-ngh-erstahaand, baby, god fuck this is ah—

in front of you, lounging lazily with a sharp look in his eyes, was suna, flipping through his own college assignment, only a couple words written so far; his slender fingers flipping the pen back and forth. there was a suspicious amount of drool building up under your tongue, pooling from your cheeks, and you swallowed, throat scratchy and dry.

—mhmmm-miss y'r wet pussy an' the way ah— she talks to me—

both of your eyes met; yours over your arms as you had started to bury your face so no one in the viccinity could see the way your eyebrows started to furrow pathetically, thighs clenched and rubbing against each other, and his with his head tilted back as he too seemed to sink deeper in his chair across you, a mean glint in the dark of his pupils, a sarcastic twitch of his mouth at knowing exactly what was playing through your headphones. the audio he sent you and told you to listen to.

—fuck fuck fuck fuck baby i can't ohhh fu-huuuck please, i n-need y'to spit in mmmy mouth hah-here yeah ngh—

you could imagine the base of his hand slapping against the skin of his hips with the hurried and messy way he was jerking his cock in your ears, wet sounds from suna's mouth as he gathered his spit to use it to slide his fingers faster, wishing it was your spit down his throat. the fingers that your eyes zeroed in on as he kept playing with his pen in front of you.

—when you h-hear this, baby, his whisper was so close to the microphone, his breath harsh, c-come meet -ah!- me in th'bathroommmmhh—

somebody tugged on your hair, and when you whirled around in your chair at the teasing, you caught suna's tall form disappearing around the corner into the direction of the restrooms. it took you less than a second to scramble up from your place at the table and hurry after him; the loudness of suna's groans and the tell-tale sound of him cumming competing with the strength of your own heartbeat between your legs.

TAGLIST | @lale-txt @takes1 @sugacor3 @classicalelephant

@codedragons-world (i know you didn't ask for a tag, i'm sorry for disturbing you— but your comment spurred me on to give into suna brainrot again !! so suffer with me!!)

[kitten4sannie]

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

“You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

While gazing down at you, his ringed finger drifted down your chest and along the seam of your blazer. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

-

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve. 

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place. 

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.” 

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking��unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.” 

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?” 

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.” 

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.” 

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over. 

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side. 

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks. 

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum. 

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear. 

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip. 

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[mottemotte]

true suffering is finding a lot of old monster high/ever after high dolls for like $5 each at the antique store and not being able to buy any of them bc ur with ur normie irl friend and u cant just say 'i want to get back into doll customizing so i can make my homestuck blorbos into dolls but fsr i have all my old supplies but i tossed out all my blank dolls' so u have to just walk past them and cry silently

[mazeeelabyrinth]

*⁀°▪︎♡ he walked in on you fingering yourself

*⁀°▪︎♡ pairing: lads lis x afab!reader

*⁀°▪︎♡ tags: second person pov, 18+, shameless smut, vaginal fingering, masturbation, masturbation interruptus, comedy, crack-leaning, ooc

*⁀°▪︎♡ a/n: I'm having lads brainrot, so I decided to use old ideas to start a random lads drabbles? One shots? What do you call this little scenario fanfics? lmao. This is already on ao3, btw.

*⁀°▪︎♡ wc: 975

masterlist ❀ ao3 ❀ navigation

The soft hum of the city outside your window was a distant echo, fading into the background as you lay sprawled across your bed. The room was dim, lit only by the pale glow of the moon filtering through the blinds.

You were lost in your own touch, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to the warmth pooling in your core.

Faint yet unmistakable squelch echoed in staccato throughout the room as your fingers worked on your cunt—sliding in and out of your hole at an increasing pace.

When you pinched your clit, the world outside ceased to exist; there was only the sensation, the heat, the anticipation.

Your breath quickened, matching the pulse of your heartbeat, fantasizing about your man and moaning his name as you desperately chased a rewarding climax when—

The door cracked open with a click.

You froze.

One hand buried between your thighs, slick fingers still curling inside your throbbing cunt.

The other clamped down on your tit like it owed you rent.

Breath caught. Orgasm? Canceled. Pride? Evaporated.

*⁀➷ Caleb

"What the f—?"

He didn’t just open the door. Caleb kicked it open like you were being held hostage—which, technically, you were. By your own horny hand.

You shrieked and scrambled to pull the blanket up. He just stood there, towering and flustered, violet eyes locked on your wettest crime scene.

"I heard noises!" he shouted. "I thought you were under attack!”

You blinked. "I was."

His face went beet red. He inhaled like he was trying to oxygenate his boner away.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “...Next time, give me a name so I know who to beat up.”

And yet—he didn’t leave.

Nope.

Caleb’s hand gripped the doorframe like it was the only thing stopping him from doing something wildly inappropriate.

“...Were you thinking of me?”

Oh. He’s flustered but you’re the slut.

*⁀➷ Sylus

Click.

He didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even knock.

"Tsk. Should’ve known you’d start the party without me."

Sylus strolled in like he owned the whole damn city—coat half off, red eyes glowing like he had night vision directly on your pussy.

You gasped. He smirked.

"I leave you alone for ten minutes and you’re already making a mess."

He stepped closer, watching your fingers sink back in without shame.

“That poor little pussy,” he purred, with the smug confidence of a man who knew exactly how to finish what you started. “Bet she’s lonely.”

Your thighs snapped shut on instinct.

“Mm,” he said, gaze sharpening. “She wasn’t two minutes ago.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t even apologize. You were the one burning up, and he was the one walking away with your orgasm hostage in his pocket.

*⁀➷ Zayne

"...Why?"

He just stood there. Stone-faced.

You were halfway through slamming a pillow over your vagina when you saw it—

That tiny twitch at the corner of his lips.

“Zayne!”

“You’re going to give yourself a carpal tunnel,” he deadpanned.

You stared. “Seriously? That’s your concern?”

He adjusted his glasses. “And possibly a UTI.”

You squealed and threw the pillow at him.

He caught it. Barehanded. Unbothered.

You lay there, legs shaking, fingers still inside you. His gaze drifted lazily across your flushed chest, then lower.

"You couldn’t have waited until I was off call?"

The man was still in his lab coat.

Still holding a clipboard.

Still managing to make your orgasm feel like a scheduled appointment you missed.

“You should be careful,” he said, adjusting his glasses while glaring at your hand. “You could damage tissue if you keep using poor technique.”

And then, under his breath, like an afterthought:

“…Do it again. I want to observe.”

He was totally going to write it in his journal later.

*⁀➷ Rafayel

“YES.”

The man fucking cheered.

You screamed. He clapped.

Rafayel popped his head in like it was a peek-a-boo moment. “I knew I heard my muse gasping in ecstasy!”

“GET OUT—”

“I CAN’T. I’M EMOTIONALLY INVESTED.”

You tried to hide under the covers. He was already sketching you with invisible lines in the air.

“I want to remember this. The way the light hits your nipple—magnifique!”

You threw a sock at him.

He dodged. “Don’t be shy! Your body’s art! This scene—raw, primal, dripping with desire—it's poetry with a squelch track!”

Rafayel spun in like a stripper pirouetting into hell.

One second you were about to climax—

Next second? This man was doing jazz hands at the foot of your bed.

“My muse,” he moaned. “My starlet. My filthy, glistening goddess—!”

You screamed. He gasped.

Then dropped to his knees dramatically, like your clit was the Holy Grail.

“If I do not capture this moment on canvas, I will perish.”

You couldn’t tell if he was about to weep, paint you, or join you.

You were going to need therapy.

He was probably going to frame a sketch of your clit and hang it over his bed.

*⁀➷ Xavier

Dead silence.

You felt him before you saw him—standing there, mouth slightly open, ash-blond hair tousled, face blank like his brain had blue-screened.

“...Oh,” he whispered.

And you swore he was physically buffering.

You yanked the sheet up. “How long were you—?!”

He blinked. Slowly.

“I... think I came in at the squelching.”

Oh. My. God.

“I… was going to ask if you wanted tea.”

You stared, breathless.

He stared, boner aggressively forming.

“I’ll go—I mean—I saw nothing—I mean—can I help? Wait, no! Unless…”

He trailed off, dazed, like he just saw God and she was you, three fingers deep.

He turned around. Still buffering.

“Lock the door,” he mumbled. “Or don’t. Your choice.”

Then he vanished like a ghost who’d just had his first wet dream in 200 years.

[heliosunny]

Hi! I wasn’t sure if you’ve played the older genshin events/have an interest in him, but if you do could I request something for yan! Albedo? His long awaited return has been causing me crazy brainrot lol I’d love to hear your thoughts on him

Rest assured, I've been one of the players since the game's release and only stopped playing after Fontaine. It was a magical game back then, but I lost interest later on and dropped it. Hope u enjoy reading this!

Contractual Affection

Yandere!Albedo x Reader

Albedo sat in the dim glow of multiple screens, his sharp eyes scanning the profiles in front of him. His fingers tapped idly against his desk.

"This one."

The assistant beside him marked the chosen candidate.

You had heard the rumors.

The Kreideprinz Corporation paid exceptionally well—better than any other company in Teyvat. But there was a catch: employees never lasted long. Some said the work was grueling. Others whispered about the CEO’s particular standards.

Then, the real surprise came.

"You’ve also been selected as his partner in marriage."

Wait—what? You're here for work though.

Before you could protest, you were ushered into his office.

"I’ve been waiting for you." 

You checked the email notification on your phone again and again.

"Congratulations! You’ve been selected as the personal assistant to Chief Albedo Kreideprinz. Additionally, you are hereby formally engaged to him under a provisional contract."

You blinked. Then read it again.

…What? How did you miss the second line?

Sure, the job posting had mentioned "unconventional benefits" but this was not what you’d signed up for. You were thrilled to get the job, maybe that's why you didn't even bother to finish reading the mail.

Albedo’s office was pristine, much like the man himself. He didn’t even glance up when you stormed in, waving your phone like a white flag of confusion.

"There’s been a mistake!" you insisted. "I applied for a job, not an—an arranged marriage!"

Finally, he set down his pen. His gaze was glacial, but there was something beneath it—amusement? Annoyance?

"No mistake," he said. "It’s a temporary arrangement. My family has been… insistent."

Alice—his adoptive mother, a whirlwind of chaos, and Klee, his little sister (bless her explosive heart), had apparently decided that Albedo’s "workaholic iciness" was a cry for help. They’d misread his quiet dedication as loneliness.

"They believe I lack 'human warmth,'" he deadpanned. "This was their solution."

You crossed your arms. "So I’m your..."

"For appearances only. The salary, of course, will reflect the additional role."

…Well. That was a staggering number. And, not that it mattered, but Albedo was unfairly handsome.

"Fine," you sighed. "But no weird demands. We keep it professional."

"Naturally."

Breaking News! The announcement hit the tabloids: "Kreideprinz CEO ENGAGED to Mystery Partner!"

Speculations ran wild. But your identity remained sealed under airtight confidentiality—for your safety, the contract stated.

…Which meant you now had to dodge paparazzi, side-eye strangers in cafes, and resist the urge to throat-punch anyone who whispered, "I heard they’re a gold-digger."

The pressure was on.

Surprisingly… Albedo was chill about it.

He treated you with the same detached politeness as before, just with added "my dear" in front of the board members.

"This isn’t working," you admitted one evening, slumping into his office couch. "People think you hired an actor. Look at this."

You shoved your phone at him. A gossip forum’s top thread: "Albedo’s ‘partner’ = paid PR stunt??"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! If this fails, your family will just set you up again. And I’d like to keep my lucrative job." You hesitated. "We should… go on dates. Public ones."

Albedo finally looked up from his notes.

"Very well. Dinner at La Lumière tomorrow."

You should’ve known the universe would punish you for trying to help.

The photo splashed across every gossip site by dawn: "Albedo’s Future spouse Caught in Scandalous Rendezvous!" The caption screamed betrayal, but the reality was pathetic. You’d just been asking an old friend for café recommendations while Albedo took a phone call.

You’d explained. He’d nodded calmly. "I trust you."

…Which somehow made it worse.

Now, holed up in his pristine townhouse (a temporary safety measure, he insisted), you stared at the latest headline: "Heartbroken Kreideprinz: Is the Engagement Doomed?"

You groaned into a couch cushion. "I’m going to strangle the press with their own camera straps."

knock knock knock.

Albedo hadn’t mentioned visitors. The paparazzi wouldn’t dare approach his private residence… right?

Cautiously, you peered through the door’s stained glass and saw a tiny figure in a red hat, bouncing on their toes.

You cracked the door open. "…Hello?"

"Hi!!" The girl beamed, clutching a backpack that rattled suspiciously. "I’m Klee! Big brother Albedo said I could visit, but.." She leaned in, whispering loudly, "he forgot, so you gotta let me in before the monsters find me!"

…What.

Five minutes in, you learned three things:

Klee was Albedo’s sister (and a walking explosion hazard).

She adored her brother (and was thrilled he "finally got a friend!").

She had the energy of a thousand suns (and zero respect for "boring adult rules").

By the time Albedo’s immaculate living room resembled a rainbow bomb site, crayon murals on the walls, Dodoco plushies staging a coup on the sofa, and something sticky on the ceiling, you were ready to collapse.

Klee, however, was just getting started.

"Watch this!!" She brandished a handful of glitter. "Sparkly Boom—"

"NO—" You lunged.

The door clicked open.

Albedo stood in the doorway, gaze sweeping over the chaos, the overturned furniture, the glue-streaked floor, Klee dangling from the chandelier (how?!) before landing on you.

"…I was gone for two hours."

Klee waved. "We bonded! Your friend's fun, Big brother Albedo!"

"Did you now?"

You thrust Klee toward Albedo like a live grenade.

"Here. Please."

He took her without comment, though his eyebrow twitched at the glitter smeared across his sleeve while you scrambled to salvage his ruined home.

"Leave it," he said, catching your wrist as you tried to scrub crayon off the wallpaper. "I’ve already called a cleaning service."

"You—what? Then why didn’t you—"

"You seemed… invested."

Was that amusement in his voice?

With the house uninhabitable and no food in sight (RIP, the exploded kitchen experiment Klee swore was a "snack"), the three of you fled to a quiet corner of Mondstadt’s tavern.

Peace, at last.

"Big brother Albedo," Klee chirped around a mouthful of sticky honey roast, "do you like your friend?"

You choked on your water.

"Of course."

"But like-like? Like how Mom likes Dad before he went poof?"

"Klee—"

"Because if you like-like them, you gotta hold hands! And kiss! And—"

"We are engaged." Albedo interjected smoothly. "That means I care for them deeply, and we’ll be together… indefinitely."

Klee squinted. "That’s boring. Prove it."

"It’s inappropriate to do such things in front of children."

"Liar." She puffed her cheeks. "Mom kisses people all the time in front of me!"

With terrifying calm, he turned to you.

"Apologies."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Your face burned. Klee giggled. Albedo sipped his wine like nothing happened.

"Happy?" he asked Klee.

"Mmm… barely pass." She grinned at you.

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate both of you."

-----

The moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew something was wrong.

A man you’d never seen before suddenly blocked your path, grinning like a wolf who’d spotted easy prey. "Hey there, sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here."

You sidestepped, but he grabbed your wrist. "Come on, don’t be like that. Let’s chat—"

Camera flashes erupted.

Shit. You’d been set up.

The paparazzi lurked just out of reach, snapping photos of the "scandalous encounter" they’d orchestrated. Your pulse spiked—this would be everywhere by sundown.

"Remove your hand."

You didn’t even have to turn to know Albedo was there.

The man scoffed. "Or what? You gonna fight me over your little—"

Albedo’s fingers dug into the man’s shoulder, forcing him back with terrifying ease. "I won’t repeat myself."

The cameras went wild.

You expected him to drag you away. Instead, Albedo cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek where the stranger had nearly grazed you. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head.

Then, in full view of the paparazzi, he pulled you close, one arm locking around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Let’s go home," he murmured, loud enough for the cameras to catch.

The crowd erupted.

Once the authorities dispersed the paparazzi, Albedo didn’t let go. His grip on your hand was just shy of painful, his strides too fast as he led you through backstreets.

"Albedo—"

"Quiet."

Only when you were safely inside his car did he finally look at you.

"It won’t happen again."

--Days before the actual selection--

The stack of personnel files sat neatly on Albedo’s desk, each one meticulously reviewed and annotated in his precise, angular script. He had no patience for incompetence, no interest in those who might disrupt the careful order of his work. And yet, when he reached your file, his pen hovered.

He didn’t believe in fate. But something about you, the way your credentials aligned so perfectly with his needs, made him pause.

A practical choice. He circled your name in red ink.

But just to be sure, he'll look up for more information.

At the time, it was nothing more than that.

He hadn’t expected you to be good with Klee.

Most people weren’t. Either they coddled her like glass or scolded her recklessness without understanding the sharp mind behind it.

You handed her bandages when she skinned her knees, humming distractedly as she chattered about her latest "experiment." You packed her lunches with the same precision you applied to his reports, slipping in a handwritten note now and then ("No sparkling bombs today, okay?").

And when Albedo worked through the night, he’d find a fresh pot of coffee at his elbow, a blanket draped over the back of his chair.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

-------

The sky had been clear when you left headquarters. Albedo remembered this distinctly because he had noted the weather in his daily log—72% humidity, minimal cloud coverage, optimal conditions for outdoor testing.

And yet, by mid-afternoon, the clouds rolled in like spilled ink.

He was reviewing soil samples when the first raindrops hit the windows. A flicker of movement caught his eye—you, darting across the courtyard below, arms raised uselessly over your head as the downpour soaked through your clothes in seconds.

A logical man would have returned to his work.

Albedo found himself at the door with his coat in hand before he'd fully processed the decision.

You nearly collided with him when you burst inside.

"Oh—!" You skidded to a halt, blinking water from your lashes. "I didn't think anyone was—"

"Take this." He thrust the coat at you.

"But you'll—"

"I dislike repeating myself."

"...Thank you."

He watched, inexplicably fascinated, as you shrugged it on. The sleeves swallowed your hands whole.

"You look ridiculous." 

You laughed, shaking rainwater from your hair. "Well, it's not like I had much choice. Unless you wanted me tracking mud through your—"

"The third floor lavatory has a hand dryer." He turned on his heel. "Try not to electrocute yourself."

You returned the coat folded neatly on his desk, still faintly damp at the cuffs.

Albedo picked it up. The scent hit him like a poorly calibrated reaction. His grip tightened.

Across the room, Klee bounced on her toes. "Big brother, are you listening? I said—"

"Later, Klee."

The coat went into his desk drawer.

---

A late night in the lab, the winter chill seeping through the windows. You rubbed your arms absently, fingers numb from sorting through stacks of his research notes.

A shadow fell over you, then the weight of his coat across your shoulders.

You startled. "I’m not—"

"You’re shivering." His fingers lingered at your collarbone, adjusting the lapel. "It’s inefficient."

The fabric was still warm from his body.

You didn’t have time to protest before he was back at his desk, scribbling equations like nothing happened.

Then there was this other time.

"You’ll freeze."

The winter wind howled through the streets as Albedo looped his scarf around your neck.

"I have my own—"

"Not thick enough." He tugged the wool tighter, his breath fogging in the air between you. 

When the paparazzi snapped photos of you wrapped in his colors, he didn’t correct the headlines.

"Kreideprinz’s Future Spouse Spotted in His Clothes!"

"Stay close."

Albedo’s hand settled at the small of your back as you navigated the ballroom. This was something you didn't expect to do. Dancing and all at a party.

"We agreed—no unnecessary contact in public."

"Mm." His thumb stroked your spine. "But that reporter from Fontaine has been staring. Credibility demands consistency."

Then his lips were at your ear, his teeth grazing the lobe.

You gasped.

"Paparazzi expect them at events like this." he murmured, pulling back to admire the mark blooming on your neck. 

Your face burned. "That’s..."

"Shall I add another?"

The office knew.

How could they not? Their boss is definitely not good at hiding his true intention.

But the worst part?

You were starting to like it.

The way his gloves caught in your hair when he "fixed" your hood. The weight of his coat. The thrill when he glared down people who dared to flirt.

----

It was just another ordinary day.

You were delivering a stack of reports to Albedo’s office when a loud crash from the hallway startled you. The papers in your hands slipped, scattering across the floor. With a sigh, you knelt to gather them, only to freeze when you realized what you were looking at.

A list of names.

His original selection of candidates.

Each one was meticulously annotated—appearance, qualifications, personality traits. All of them were stunning. All of them were brilliant.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

"Wow, look at these people. Gorgeous, talented.. Why am I even here? I should’ve quit ages ago." you joked, shuffling the papers back together.

You looked up.

Albedo stood in the doorway.

"You’re not leaving, are you?"

"I—It was a joke." you stammered, quickly standing.

He stepped forward, his fingers curling around your waist. "Humor is subjective. That wasn’t funny."

"I wasn’t serious."

Just as he leaned in, his lips parting to say something far from professional.

"OH MY, IS THIS A WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT?!"

There she was—Alice, Albedo’s adoptive mother, back from her latest trip.

Her eyes darted between the two of you, Albedo’s hand still gripping your waist, your face burning crimson, and she grinned.

"Awwww! My little chalk prince finally found love!" she cooed, clapping her hands. "And you! You’re adorable! Oh, we have to start planning—"

Before you could even process, she had whipped out a detailed baby-naming guide from god knows where and was flipping through it excitedly.

"Hmm, if it’s a girl, ‘Lumine’ has a nice ring!"

You were mortified. Albedo, however, looked completely unbothered.

"Mother," he said calmly, "this is Y/N L/N."

"I KNOW! I SAW THE HEADLINES!" Alice squealed, grabbing your hands. "You’re staying for dinner. We’re celebrating! Klee! KLEE, GET IN HERE!!!"

The "celebration" lasted three full days—three days of Alice’s increasingly unhinged wedding plans, Klee’s sugar-fueled energy, and Albedo watching it all with the quiet amusement of a man who had already accepted his fate.

By the time you finally returned home (Alice having vanished mid-party with a "Be back in a year or five! Love you!"), you were exhausted.

Klee, somehow still buzzing with energy, had insisted on a "sleepover!"—which meant she now lay sprawled between you and Albedo in the bed, her tiny limbs taking up an unreasonable amount of space.

"Hey," Klee piped up, rolling onto her side to squint at you. "Hypothetically… if Big brother Albedo turned into a dragon and kidnapped you, would you be mad?"

"What?"

"Like, a big dragon. With scales and fire and stuff. And he carried you away to his super-secret dragon castle and said you could never leave." She grinned. "Would you stay?"

You shot a glance at Albedo, who was watching you with far too much interest.

"Well," you mused, playing along, "if he was nice about it… and maybe let me redecorate the dragon castle… I guess it wouldn’t be so bad."

Klee giggled. "He’d definitely be nice! He’d give you all the books you want and never let anyone else take you!"

Albedo’s fingers twitched against the sheets.

You yawned, your eyelids growing heavy. "Mmm… then sure. I’d stay."

Klee opened her mouth to ask another question, but before she could, you were already asleep.

Albedo waited until Klee’s breathing evened out—until she, too, finally succumbed to sleep, curled up like a little firework ready to explode at dawn.

Carefully, he shifted her to the side, tucking the blankets around her before turning his attention to you.

His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from your face.

He had made the right choice.

Not just in selecting you, though that had been flawless in its own way, but in keeping you. In letting you carve a space into his life, his routines.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, murmuring something unintelligible.

The peace lasted exactly two hours.

The bedroom door burst open with enough force to rattle the walls.

"GOOD MORNING, FUTURE GRANDBABY FACTORY—"

Albedo’s arm shot out, catching Alice by the collar before she could leap onto the bed. Klee snorted in her sleep, rolling over like a tiny, bomb-happy burrito. You jolted upright, hair sticking in every direction.

"Mother," Albedo hissed through gritted teeth, "they’re sleeping."

Alice pouted. "But I have blueprints for a nursery! And a list of explosion-proof baby names!"

Without breaking eye contact, Albedo reached for his desk intercom. "Security."

As they hauled Alice away, her voice echoed down the hall:

"FINE! BUT I’M MAILING YOU THE CRIB ANYWAY—"

The door slammed.

You stared at Albedo.

Then, slowly, he pulled the blankets over your head.

"Five more minutes" he muttered.

----

You woke in a cold sweat, gasping.

"Albedo—Albedo—"

He was already awake, "Hm?"

"I just dreamt you were a dragon," you panted, "and you...you swallowed me whole—"

Albedo laughed. Not a polite chuckle, but a deep, unhinged sound that vibrated through his chest.

"That’s not funny!" you hissed, swatting his arm.

"It’s hilarious," he corrected, wiping his eye. "And biologically implausible. Unless," he added thoughtfully, "I shrunk you first."

You gaped at him.

He kissed your forehead. "Go back to sleep."

You did not.

[piastriprincess]

wrapped  around  your  finger ⸻  alex  albon  x  reader  .

featuring  alex  albon  ,  established  relationship  ,  disgusting  tooth  rotting  fluff  word  count  0.8k author’s  note  requested  by  anon  forever  ago  but  i  just  got  inspired  for it today  !!  ALEX  ALBON  P5  oh  the  man  that  you  are  …  i’m  a  mclaren  enjoyer  but  if  we  don’t  get  albodium  this  season  i  WILL  riot  .  this  is  a  bit  short  and  frankly  very  random  but  i  was  having  brainrot  about  cuddling  with  alex  and  saw  the  albon_pets  story  which  just  made  me  laugh  and  inspired  a  tiny  bit  of  the  fic  .  i  hope  you  enjoy  it  ,  anon  !  as  always  come  tell  me  what  you  think  and  my  inbox  is  always  open  for  requests  !  title  is  from  linger  by  the  cranberries  .

“Okay. What am I drawing now?”

You trace your finger deliberately against the side of Alex’s arm. You’re in the hotel bed in Imola; you flew in just a few hours before, after your boyfriend mumbled through the phone after qualifying that he missed you very much and would like you to come to the race please, if you could. He’s been clingy all evening since you got to Italy, now holding your back flush against his chest in the bed, arms wrapped around your waist. You like that he always presses his arms tight against yours, like he’s not just spooning you but actively hugging you closer.

There’s silence, for a moment. Even though you’re facing away from him, you can picture his face, the way his bottom lip is probably caught between his teeth, the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s concentrating. “A cat?”

“Be more specific,” you say, smiling. 

He sighs lightly into your hair, his grip around you settling just a little tighter. “You’re expecting me to guess one of the cats based on your invisible drawing on my bicep?”

“They’re your children, you should know them by touch.” 

“Fine, okay — do it again,” he says, and you try not to laugh at the appearance of his familiar competitive streak, exactly like you knew would happen when you started this little game. Still, you oblige, dragging your finger over his skin again and watching as it leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Horsey,” he says confidently. “Definitely Horsey.”

You shake your head, hiss through your teeth like a disappointed game show host. “It was Moomoo.”

“That felt nothing like Moomoo,” he protests, and you just laugh. “Are you having me on, love? Barely felt like a cat, honestly — it’d be a bit of a funny-looking thing.” 

“Well…” you say, trailing off, and Alex gasps. 

“How very dare you. Moomoo is a handsome boy,” your boyfriend says haughtily. He gives an exaggerated gulp like he’s shocked at your audacity to suggest otherwise, but you know better. Really it’s just because he knows you hate the feeling of his adam's apple bobbing against the back of your head. 

“Alex, ew, stop, it feels so weird!” you whine, squirming away from his grip, but he holds you firm against him, arms lean and strong around yours. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says lightly, doing it again. “And if you keep wiggling around it’s going to be something very different rubbing against you.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles. “I’m scandalized, Albon.”

“It’s scandalous business,” he replies, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Tread carefully.”

You snuggle in closer, cherishing the proximity after being apart for the week. There’s a yawn creeping into the edges of your voice when you speak again. “I’ll be sure to watch my step. Your turn. I’ll close my eyes, you draw.”

“If you close your eyes, you’re going to fall asleep, love,” Alex murmurs, his hand ghosting gently up and down your side in a soothing sort of motion.  

“I won’t,” you lie. You can feel the exhaustion overtaking your body, but you want the time with him more. “Promise. I’ll stay up until you go to sleep. Now draw.”

“Bossy,” he huffs, but there’s no heat behind it. There’s a pause, and then his fingertip drags slowly across your forearm. It’s delicate, precise, like he’s trying to make sure you get it right without disturbing you too much. 

You hum, trying to picture the soft touches in your mind’s eye. “Is it… a star?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a really lopsided version of the track tomorrow.”

Alex laughs, low and warm in your ear. “It’s a heart.”

“Might need to take some art classes, baby,” you tease, though you can feel your cheeks heating up even in the dark, cool room. 

“Hey, my canvas was moving,” he says, squeezing your arm as if to emphasize his terrible conditions. “And I was distracted.”

You crack one eye open at that, tilt your head back towards him even though you can’t see him. “Distracted by what?”

He shifts slightly, like he’s trying to be closer to you even though he’s basically wrapped around you by this point. When he speaks, his voice is achingly soft, almost shy. “By how happy I am you’re here.”

The sudden sincerity makes something warm bloom in your chest. You’re quiet for a beat, finding his hand in the darkness and intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m happy I’m here too,” you whisper. “Even if your drawing skills are questionable.”

“Rude,” Alex mumbles into your hair, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Poured my soul into that drawing, didn’t I?”

You laugh, tired and utterly content as your eyes flutter shut again. “I lied earlier. I think I’m falling asleep.”

“I know, love,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, squeezing his hand once before you let go. “Love you.”

You don’t hear his reply. You feel it, as sleep starts to drag you under. 

Alex’s finger tracing across your forearm. L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-M-O-R-E.

[starkwlkr]

Oh my, imagine you and Hugh have a teen daughter who is like 16 or something, and she goes live and just keeps talking in brainrot terms while you don’t understand what she’s saying.😭😂

ps: love your writing💗

HOT TO GO! | hugh jackman

an: thank you anon for this request, it was so fun to write!! love youuuu

“And there’s my mom . . .” Olivia had walked into your room where you were doing your makeup at your vanity. She held her phone in her hand pointing it at you. “‘Mother is mothering’ I know right? She’s out here serving cunt on a Tuesday afternoon.”

Serving cunt? Did you hear that right?

You stopped applying the red lipstick on your lips and looked at your daughter. “I’m a cunt?”

Immediately the teen bursted out laughing. “No, oh my god! I didn’t mean you. You look great, that’s what I meant.”

The comments on Olivia’s instagram live were going crazy. They found it funny that their favorite actress was clueless.

natsyelena y/n is so adorable 😭

y/nupdates please tell her she’s mother

“The comments are telling you that you’re mother.” Olivia said to you. Again, you were confused.

“I know.” You reply. “I have three kids.”

Olivia chuckled. She then set her phone against the vanity mirror and posed while you continued doing your makeup. It was date night and Hugh had gotten you tickets to see Stevie Nicks perform. Olivia was heartbroken she wouldn’t be able to see her favorite singer, but Hugh promised her they would go see her at her next show as a family.

“What does that mean?” You pointed at a comment that caught your eye.

y/nstyle donatella VERSACE 💜

Olivia looked at the comment and laughed. “It’s a meme, mom. Donatella commented that on Bella Hadid’s post.”

Another comment caught Olivia’s attention.

xmenarchive SHOW HER THE JOSH HUTCHERSON EDIT

Olivia gasped then grabbed your phone since hers was on live. She searched on YouTube for the specific video and showed it to her mom eager to see her reaction. As whistle played and pictures of Josh Hutcherson appeared, a smile formed on your face.

“It’s Josh! I haven’t seen him in so long.”

“Wait what?” Olivia paused the video.

“He visited Jennifer on the set of X-men when I was visiting your dad and we hung out. Your brothers were also there too.”

“And you never told me?!” Olivia yelled. “The mom lore is insane.”

After learning more about you, the comments wanted you to react to THE Pedro Pascal, Steve Harrington, and other specific edits. Olivia gladly showed them to you.

Once you saw the Pedro edit, you giggled. “I’m going to send that to Pedro.”

“Guys, hide the fanfics!” Olivia shouted at her phone.

After coming back from the corner store with snacks, Hugh walked into your room where Olivia was teaching you the HOT TO GO! dance. He looked so interested in what you two were doing.

“You can take me hot to go!” Olivia finished the dance. “Look, the comments are saying you ate that up.”

“What the fuck?” Hugh said when he heard that.

“Guys, don’t worry I’ll teach her everything,” Olivia took the phone from the vanity and saw her dad with snacks. Some comments had recognized Hugh’s voice so they demanded Olivia to show him. “After this I better be everyone’s favorite nepo baby.”

“You’re not even my favorite nepo baby.” Hugh teased. Olivia then showed Hugh waving hello to the live.

“The viewers want me to teach you the hot to go dance.” She read some of the comments.

“No.”

“Oh ok so you hate happiness in others? I see the type of person that you are, Huge Ackman!” Olivia left her parents’ room to go continue her instagram live in her room.

Hugh stood beside you confused. “How did we raise completely different kids?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know, but I learned so many things today.”

[purinfelix]

walking 'cross the campus - n. riki ⋆˚࿔

summary: one too many drinks lands you in the arms of a handsome stranger, who you suddenly end up confessing to - but given that you've never met before, it shouldn't be too big a deal, right? ─────── college au niki x reader || warnings: alcohol, reader being a sappy and kinda cringey drunk, fluffy awkwardness, tension || w/c: 2.5k

a/n: i fear the Niki brainrot is taking over me lately (blame my younger sister whos a niki bias and who has just been influencing me LOLLL) also not that anyone gafs but i actually had this fic idea for a formula one driver originally but never finished it so i recycled it .... hope u guys enjoy !!!!

Maybe this party hadn't been a good idea.

It had certainly seemed like it a couple of days ago when you'd decided to go, despite the assignments and readings piling up on your never-ending to-do list. Even a couple of hours ago, when you were there and enjoying yourself quite a bit, it hadn't seemed too bad an idea. But now, as you heard back to your dorm, barely able to keep your head up or your eyes open after enjoying yourself a little too much, you were starting to regret your decision

And it didn't help that you were being carried bridal-style by the most attractive guy you'd seen all year.

"What did you say your name was again?" you slurred, trying your best to stay awake in his arms.

"Niki," he says, his voice deeper than you were expecting, "though I doubt you'll remember that tomorrow morning." You watch as he chuckles to himself softly, eyes fixed on the stairs he's carrying you up.

"Huh- why?"

"Do you even remember how many drinks you had?"

"I stopped counting after," you unloop your hands from around his neck to count on your fingers, "eight?"

He lets out a small sigh, followed by a shake of his head, as if he's tired of you. But as he does, there's a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, almost as if he's trying not to laugh. "And that's if you can even call the shit in those solo cups 'drinks'. You're braver than I am, trusting frat boys with what you put in your mouth."

You let out a quiet hiccup before speaking in a high, giggly tone, "That sounds dirty." As you lay your head back on his broad chest, you can feel him laugh under his breath.

"Is this your floor?"

You nod, despite having absolutely no idea where you are - surely you can trust your past self to have been stupid enough to tell a total stranger where your dorm is, especially one as good-looking as this.

"I won't forget you," you hum happily, fighting the weight of your eyelids to look up at him, though he just looks ahead, brows furrowed as he tries to find your room.

"And why is that?"

"Well, you're so nice for doing this," you pause, a playful smile spreading across your face, "plus, you're not bad to look at, I don't think I could forget a face like this if I tried."

Without thinking, one of your hands comes up to cup his jaw, pulling him to look at you. Without your hands around his neck, his grip on you slips- and it doesn't help that your words, actions, and the sudden eye contact have caught him completely off guard.

"Wh-careful!" He scolds you with a soft hiss as he quickly repositions his hands to keep you upright.

"Oops!" you hic, unable to comprehend just how much of a hassle you're being right now, but still aware enough to catch the pink flush across his cheeks as he lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of the door with your name on it.

"Key?" he asks, somewhat impatiently, and you clumsily fumble around in your pocket for them before slamming them into his open palm. You hear the familiar sound of your dorm door opening and soon, the cool feeling of your plush bedsheets.

"There you go," he hums softly as he lays you down, though your grip on his neck doesn't loosen.

"Hey, mister," you huff through pouted lips.

"Yes, missus?" He replies in a tone that's equal parts amused and endeared, despite how exhausted he must be with you.

"I think..." you pause to reposition yourself, widening your eyes and pulling him close as if to force him to see the earnest expression on your face, "I think I might love you."

You don't have time to hear his response because you're passed out stone-cold the next second, and the only thing you hear is quiet shuffling followed by the soft click of your dorm door shutting.

The next morning hits you like a truck. Hard.

Your head throbs as you peel it off your pillow, and your mouth feels like sandpaper as you let out a croaky groan. You squeeze your eyes shut, lying there for a few moments and slowly, memories from last night trickle in.

Loud music, sticky floors, flashing lights, one drink, two, six - after that, nothing, a complete blank. Though if you try hard enough to can conjure up the faint memory of someone's hands on the small of your back, and yours around their neck.

You try not to overthink it, sitting up slowly and glancing around your room for any signs of damage. Everything looks normal enough, no carelessly thrown clothes or items belonging to anyone other than you.

With a painful stretch, you reach for your phone, which is neatly waiting for you on your bedside table. All it takes is one look at the time to force you out of bed in a rush - class starts in 20 minutes, great.

You do your best to slip into class unnoticed, making a beeline for your usual spot at the back with your hoodie over your head, sunglasses shoved onto your face to protect you from the harsh overhead lights. You think you've succeeded and start to rummage through your bag for your laptop when you notice someone drop into the seat next to you.

At first, you don't think anything of it, but curiosity forces you to attempt to glance at him over the top of your glasses. He's handsome, there's no doubt about it - he has a sort of boyish charm that you can sense from the way he's lounging in the seat, dark hair falling over his sharp features. It almost irritates you how put-together he looks for how early in the morning it is.

Then you realise he's looking right at you, with an amused smirk spread across his face that makes your heart unexpectedly flutter and your stomach twist.

"Rough night?" he asks, his voice deeper than you expected as he gestures to your sunglasses. His eyes don't leave yours, and there's a mischievous glint in them as he speaks.

You blink. "Uhm... yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh, and you can't help but feel like there's something more going on here that you're not quite getting. "You don't remember much, do you?" he drawls through a smile as he leans back, eyes raking over you.

"Should I?"

"Figured," he laughs, low and teasing, instead of answering your question.

You narrow your eyes at him, chewing on your bottom lip as you struggle to place him - he looks familiar, somewhat, but you're sure you'd remember meeting someone like him before. He certainly doesn't have a face you'd see every day around campus, so you're pretty sure you've never spoken to him before.

"I'm Niki," he offers casually, but as he does, a pang of deja vu hits you, and you don't get long to wonder why before he speaks again. "We kind of met last night."

You feel your stomach drop. Kind of?

"You were at the party?" you blurt out in surprise.

"Yeah, you were a mess," he says, the corners of his lip quirking into an entertained smile.

You're unable to hold back from letting out a mortified groan, hiding your face in your hands - partially to hide your blush but mostly because you can't stand to meet his eye right now. "Please tell me I didn't throw up on anyone or anything," you whine out.

"No puke, don't worry," he assures, "but you did need a little help getting home.

You peek at him through a gap in your fingers. "Who by?" you ask, speaking slowly as if you don't really want to know the answer.

He gestures to himself, a smug grin growing on his face. "Yours truly."

"You drove me?"

"Carried," he corrects.

"Carried?!"

"Bridal style, actually, the entire way."

Your eyes almost pop out of your head from how wide you open them, and all he does is tilt his head to get a better look at your reaction to what he's just said - almost as if he's savouring it. "Oh my god," you sigh, "I am so sorry."

"Don't be," he shrugs calmly, bringing up a hand to run through his hair, "you were pretty entertaining compared to that boring party."

"What exactly did I do?" You feel your chest tighten as you ask, wincing at the endless possibilities of ways you might've embarrassed yourself.

"You don't want to know," he scoffs, turning away from you.

"No, I really do," you insist, despite your better judgement telling you that you were probably better off blissfully ignorant.

He leans back in, dropping his voice to a low tone that feels like it's a secret just for the two of you. "Let's just say you were very ... affectionate."

You blink, unsure of how to respond. "Affectionate?" you echo.

"Yep," he says, and it irritates you just how unaffected he seems by all of this. "You told me you loved me, and I have to say it was pretty convincing."

He turns to you, watching with a playful glint in his eye as you struggle to comprehend his words. If he feels bad for teasing you, he certainly doesn't show it, instead continuing with a taunting tone. "Practically begged me not to leave."

You feel your face burn hot with frustration as you furrow your brows. "You're lying," you insist.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Okay, just tell me I didn't, like, cling to you or anything."

He raises an eyebrow, attempting to fight a smile as he speaks. "Define cling."

You let out a guttural groan of embarrassment, pulling your hood down to hide your face again. "I am never drinking again," you sigh dramatically, your voice partially muffled by it.

"Aww, c'mon, I kinda liked that side of you," you hear him taunt, "it was cute."

"I hate you," you huff curtly, flicking back your hoodie to meet his eye, though the pink blush spreading across your cheeks betrays your words.

"That's not what you were saying last night," he chuckles to himself, turning back to his laptop and focusing his attention back to the lecture which, at this point, is almost over. You feel your frustration grow at the sight of him pretending he actually cares about it, as if he hasn't just dropped an earth-shatteringly embarrassing bomb on you.

You try to do the same, to make an effort to show just how much his words aren't affecting you, how totally normal you are about what he's just revealed - or more the thought of what he's still hiding. But you can't. Even as you try to focus on what your professor is saying, you can't seem to comprehend a single word. All you can think about is the boy sitting next to you, about the faint memories you have and how every single one aligns horrifyingly with what he's told you.

You're so lost in these memories in fact that you don't notice him leaning close to you again, not until his low voice hums in your ear.

"You really don't remember anything?"

You jump slightly, turning just enough to catch his eye, which is a lot closer than you're expecting - close enough that you can see the slight hint of worry in his expression. "Not a thing," you sigh curtly.

"That's a shame," he says, clicking his tongue as he shifts back in his seat, flicking his hair in the opposite direction as if to avoid your eye "I was starting to think you meant it." By how exaggeratedly he sighs, you can tell he's meaning to poke fun at you, but the slight waver in his voice betrays him, and instead, you sense just a tinge of disappointment in his words.

"So, what now?" you mumble, shifting awkwardly in your seat, "Do I owe you a thank-you or something?"

He tilts his head back to you, round eyes lighting up despite the rest of his face clearly trying to convey nonchalance. "I wouldn't say no to a coffee."

You narrow your eyes at him, "You're not trying to ask me out, are you?"

He stiffens slightly at your words, but is quick to cover it up before speaking again. "Would you say yes?"

You open your mouth, then close it, unsure of what to say in response. He's caught you off guard for what feels like the millionth time this morning - not by what he's asked, but rather by how not casual he sounds for once. In the time you take to process his question, you get a chance to study him, searching for a sign. One that tells you that he's just messing with you, that this is all an elaborate prank and that the previous night didn't actually happen the way he says it did.

But instead, you get something completely different, something unexpected. You watch as his eyes suddenly flicker away from yours, and he turns his attention to fiddling with the several rings on his fingers, as if he's trying to act like he hasn't just asked whether you'd consider a date with him.

That's when it clicks - he's nervous.

The guy who witnessed you make a total embarrassment of yourself last night, whom you drunkenly confessed to and whom has been doing nothing but teasing you and basking in your flustered responses for the past hour, is nervous.

You're unable to stop your lips from twitching into a small smile at the feeling of the tension suddenly flipping. "Maybe," you answer, trying to mirror his calm tone.

He glances at you again, something flickering across his face that slightly resembles hope, maybe relief, as he bites back a wide smile. "I'll take that."

The lecture finally draws to an end, and you watch as he stands up, grabbing his bag swiftly before turning to you. He's failing at hiding his smirk, but now it lacks the same smug self-assurance you found irritating just a couple of minutes ago, and you swear you see him hesitate for just a second before speaking.

"Think about it," his voice is lower now, almost careful, "and then if that maybe becomes a yes, you know where to find me. Or, I guess, I know where to find you technically."

"That sounds stalker-ish," you scoff.

"Hey, you're the one who told me you loved me."

"Fair," you shrug, resigned. With another low chuckle, he's slipping out of the classroom - but not before sending you one last look, as if his eyes refuse to let yours go. He sends you a lazy grin, one that seems like an affirmation of everything that happened the previous night.

And now you're sitting there, heart beating a little faster than before, head still a little foggy with blurry memories - but not enough to fully miss everything that just happened.

'Think about it.'

You've never really noticed Niki before, not like this, but now with the memory of his low voice in your ear, his teasing gaze on yours and his inability to let you live anything down ever - you're definitely thinking about it.

taglist for ni-ki fics (love u!! <3) : @miniw0nz @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @charsworld96

[duvetchico]

collision - (smau)

a yu jimin x fem!reader college smau

NOW PLAYING ; Collision by Straykids “ did you hate me that much? you were always within my reach. where are you now? i cannot find you now. ”

synopsis y/n and jimin used to date. then y/n transferred univs. now they're on rival volleyball teams forced to share a court. jimin caught a volleyball to the head. y/n caught feelings (again). shit’s about to get athletic and emotionally unstable.

genre ; exes to lovers / enemies to lovers (but make it traumatic and horny) / college volleyball au / slowburn so slow u might scream / humor / crack / fluff / angst / lesbian screaming

warnings ; lots of suggestive / swearing every 0.2 seconds / jeno slander / offensive phrases / family stuff / lots of lesbians. like. a lot.

featuring ; aespa / xiaoting as y/n's faceclaim / kim minju / kim chaewon / huh yunjin / shin ryujin / hwang yeji / an yujin / kim minji / lee jeno / zhou xinyu

taglists are open !

status - on-going !

upd. sched - 4 chapters every after 2 days of dating 101 upd !

main masterlist. playlist. thunderspikers. blue eagles.

CHAPTERS ;

00. we broke up, she dated jeno, and now i want to kill her again

01. who tf invited them.

02. headshot (not in a cute way)

03. she looked at me. like. with her eyes.

04. lesbian activity at an all-time high

05. i could fix her (but i won’t)

06. i blocked u on everything but...

07. u got a staring problem or u wanna fuck

08. i’m legally hers

09. i can fix her (but i’m also the reason she needs fixing)

10. i hate u (but also sit on my face)

11. they’re threatening each other

12. u wanna share a water bottle or something slutty like that

13. jeno's breathing is pissing me off

14. serve the ball bitch

15. ur name on the scoreboard and in my brainrot

[slytherinshua]

WITHOUT WORDS

genre. fluff. maybe a bit suggestive?? warnings. making out. they're so in love it's disgusting(ly cute). half proofread. pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader. wc. 1.1k. request. no. a/n. i don't think i've watched any enhypen content since like spring 2022... but i still wrote this just to feed @hursheys brainrot so she better thank me smh.

Perhaps the only time where you could admire your boyfriend without getting embarrassingly hot in the face was when he was asleep. You weren’t sure how it was possible for someone to be so handsome, but Sunghoon surpassed perfection in many areas, so you had grown to accept it. The first morning light had just started to seep through the window, shining softly over Sunghoon’s face.

And, god, he just looked so pretty. His hair fell over his forehead, eyelids closed, lips slightly parted letting soft breaths out. You were practically hypnotised by him. Usually you weren’t so utterly down bad for him (well, no, you were), but you simply couldn’t take your eyes off of him this morning. 

You silently brushed his hair away from his face, your touch light and gentle so as to not disturb him. The light from the window hit his now exposed forehead and eyebrows, warming up his cool toned skin and taking your breath away. You would never not be in love with him.

Your eyes shifted to his perfect nose, and the little brown mole that dotted the side of his nose bridge. You gave in to the immediate urge to press a gentle kiss to it, despite knowing that the action would probably wake him up. He was bound to wake up sooner or later from the light anyway, and you knew he always liked waking up to your kisses.

Your hand cupped his cheek, a finger softly tracing his jawline and then eyebrow, as if you were memorising his every feature. When you lifted your hand, intent on bringing it back to rest by your side, your wrist was caught midway by Sunghoon’s fingers. Although his eyes were still closed, he guided your hand back to the side of his face, a silent plea for you to continue your gentle touch. 

Instead of opening his eyes, his lip twitched, threatening to lift up into a smile. He tried to suppress it, but he too was struggling with the butterflies that your touch gave him. When it was just you two, he felt like he was floating, heart completely caught in your hold. Just when he thought he was the happiest he ever could be, you proved him wrong.

He gave in, letting the breathless laugh that was fighting to emerge, out, gracing your ears with the sound. When he opened his eyes, he was met with his favourite sight, one that he was sure he would never get tired of. Sunghoon was well aware that he was debilitatingly in love with you, but he faced the feeling with pride. He allowed you to invade his every thought, direct his every decision, and dwell at the very centre of his universe. It was where you belonged. 

There were no words needed between you two. All sentiments were delivered through your eyes, as you both could read each other like it was second nature.

Sunghoon’s ebony eyes sparkled with many messages, the most obvious of which was I love you. After years of dating him, that was one you could never miss. There was rarely a time where you didn’t see it reflected in his irises. It had become a constant for Sunghoon. Loving you was simply a part of his identity. He wasn’t himself without the love that you brought out of him. 

Your fingers danced on his cheek again, committing the feeling of his smooth skin to memory. He had a busy day ahead of him, and you knew you wouldn’t be seeing his face again until the middle of the night, so you took your time, soaking him in for as long as you could. Sunghoon was attentive to this as well, but had something else on his mind regarding how to spend the time he had left with you. He caught your wrist, this time using it to bring you closer to him, your nose almost brushing against his.

“Let me kiss you.” Came his soft request, his voice deep and slightly raspy from sleep. You smiled, meeting his lips immediately. There would never be a time when you would refuse his wish to kiss you. You sighed when he kissed you back, the warmth of his love reaching you from his lips.

You bit his bottom lip gently, making him gasp. His lips parted just enough to allow your tongue past them, the movement causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. His hands slipped to your waist under the covers, circling his thumb over your skin under your pyjama shirt (which just so happened to be one of his old t-shirts). 

Sunghoon knew he would have to break away from you sooner than he wished in order to allow time to get ready for the day. This only urged him to kiss you deeper, drowning in the feeling of you. His tongue circled yours, the dance of lip and tongue feeling as natural as breathing. He knew exactly how you liked to be kissed, years of perfecting his skills ever clearer to you as he pulled you closer.

He wished he could kiss you for eternity. He wished he didn’t have to leave you or the bed. He wished he could call the day off and stay— stay with you for the rest of his life. He was sure he would do that, but not in the way he currently wanted to right now. His work was far too important to miss, as he had several important shoots to attend. He had to cut his losses, no matter how hard it was to leave you for the entire day.

So, he pulled away, although it broke his heart to do it. You let out a quiet whine, knowing that he had to leave soon and dreading it as much as he did. He soothed you with a few quick kisses to your cheek and nose, hand squeezing your hip before he sat up, eyes lingering on your figure under the covers.

He checked the time, panicking slightly when he realized that he may have kissed you for a minute or two longer than he should have. He’d have to cut his shower short. He grabbed the clothes he had picked out the night before and rushed to the bathroom, giving you a quick smile as he closed the door. You heard the shower run for no longer than 3 minutes, and the hurried movements of him brushing his teeth and changing. 

He emerged exactly 6 minutes later, grabbing his bag and blowing you a kiss before he left. You sighed, eyes focused on a random spot on the ceiling. The taste of Sunghoon’s lips lingered on yours, making you smile slightly. You already missed him, and it hadn’t been a minute since he left. You were so down bad for him.

You rolled over to his side of the bed, squishing your face into his pillow (which smelled just like him) and falling back asleep.

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