#as is the camera and 4k screen

[betwixtyiff]

Tbh I'm gonna go back to an iPhone

[vmantras]

Unbeatable Features of Realme Neo 7: A Flagship Review

The Realme Neo 7 is a smartphone that doesn’t just follow the trends—it aggressively pushes into flagship territory, all while staying under ₹25,000. Let’s take a deep dive into what makes this device stand out and where it compromises. Design & Build: Bold but Practical Premium Finish: The Neo 7 feels substantial at 213g, with a high-end matte texture and IP68 water resistance—a rarity at this…

[krawdad]

Maybe I should create something that deliberately replicates the blurry CRT look both as a deliberate stylistic choice, but also as a means of giving myself less work to do

[mesterdeals]

Top 7 Vlogging Cameras for YouTube in 2025 (With 4K Quality)

Looking to start your YouTube journey or upgrade your vlogging gear? Choosing the best vlogging cameras for YouTube in 2025 with 4K quality can help you create high-quality content that stands out. We've rounded up the top 7 vlogging cameras that offer excellent video quality, portability, and advanced features to help you become the next content creator sensation.

How to Choose the Best Vlogging Camera for YouTube

Before selecting your vlogging camera, consider the following factors:

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[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru insists on being your lock screen.

like actually insists. he’s made it his personal mission, his divine right, his sacred duty as your overly clingy, stupidly hot husband. the moment he sees your screen light up with anything that isn’t his face—your cat, a flower, a quote graphic—he gasps like you’ve just committed adultery in 4k.

“...a sunset? a sunset?” he blinks at you like you’ve betrayed every vow. “is the sun a pretty man with ocean eyes? no. do you kiss the sun goodnight? no. do better.”

instead of letting it go like a normal person, he floods you with selfies. hundreds. different lighting. different angles. thirst traps with his shirt pulled up to flaunt the sin that is his eight-pack. mirror pics where he’s flexing. ones where he’s pouting. one where he’s fake crying. him stuffing his mouth with mochi. him dramatically sobbing with a caption that reads, “you used to love me.”

and the worst part? he’s sending all of this while sitting beside you. phone angled down, giggling like a schoolboy, thinking he’s being slick while your inbox explodes. you’re already overwhelmed when you see it.

sandwiched between selfies and spam, a very accidental mirror pic. last night. you, bent over the bathroom counter, absolutely ruined, face flushed, mouth open in a silent gasp, while satoru stands behind you grinning like a menace, very much still inside you. you scream. you hit him. he yelps but laughs, no shame, no apology. “oopsie~” and “you looked so good, though.”

he doesn’t stop even as you glare. now he’s negotiating. bartering. one lock screen slot for a back massage. five minutes of home screen privilege if he orders your favorite takeout. a full 24 hours if he lets you pick the movie and doesn’t complain even once. he even pulls out the big guns—puppy eyes, soft voice, a breathy, “baby… do it for love.”

you roll your eyes, say no, but you’re already folding. he casually shifts on the couch, hand propping up his jaw just right, profile lit perfect by the golden hour. “what about now?” he says, voice all smug, like he doesn’t already know he’s stupidly pretty. “i’m moisturized. glowin’ like your man should. tell me that’s not lock screen material.”

and in his defense? your face is everywhere on his phone. lock screen, home screen, widget rotation. polaroids of you tucked inside his clear case—some with your cheek squished to his, one with your wedding bands on display. siri responds only to your voice. his notifications banner still reads “i ❤️ my wife.”

his favorites bar? just your contact and his camera roll. album names include: “my baby 🫶,” “hot wife hours,” and “the loml fr.” he’s got slow-mo videos of you laughing, candid shots he took while you were sleeping, a live photo of you on your wedding day spinning in your dress. even that pic you told him to delete? it’s buried in a hidden folder titled with a heart emoji and he opens it like it’s the damn grail.

it’s not even a bit—he just genuinely thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. so really, is it too much to ask for one lock screen in return? balance, baby. harmony. fairness in marriage.

you hold your ground for a solid ten minutes. you really do. arms crossed, phone untouched, lips pursed like you’re not even thinking about giving in. but then he starts pulling out the big guns—his stupidly pretty face all soft and glowy from your skincare, his voice low and coaxing like he’s seducing you into sin (he is), whispering, “just a day, baby. for me?” as if it’s not his lifelong mission to conquer your lock screen.

you scoff, bratty and unmoved. “you want me to advertise you on my phone? why don’t you get a billboard?”

“because,” he says, smug, “my wife’s wallpaper real estate is more valuable.”

you shouldn’t cave. you really shouldn’t cave. but then he kisses your cheek, trails down to your jaw, murmurs something sweet and stupid that melts your last nerve. you grumble about being weak for hot idiots, scroll through the absolute onslaught of selfies he sent, and pick the one where he’s grinning—smug, shirt slightly askew, and your lipstick still stamped on his jaw. it’s criminal how good he looks. you fight the urge to bite your lip and sigh like it’s the biggest burden of your life as you set it as your lock screen.

he gasps like he’s just been proposed to. dramatic hand to his heart, eyes glassy, voice warbling as he says, “i’m your lock screen. me. your husband. this is the greatest day of my life.” and then he traps you—physically. throws his whole weight over you on the couch like a human weighted blanket, peppering kisses across your face with alarming speed. “you can’t leave now,” he mumbles into your neck, “this is your new full-time job. cherishing me.”

you groan, swatting weakly at him, but it’s no use—he’s clinging like a damn koala, legs hooked around you, arms locked tight. “satoru,” you wheeze, “get off—” but he just shushes you, smug. “nope. consequences of loving me. should’ve picked the cherry blossom jpeg.”

and because he’s him, he spends the next hour being insufferable. changes your passcode to your wedding anniversary (“for security and romance”), and sets calendar reminders titled “admire husband” three times a day. “any attempt to change it will be met with a lockscreen tax,” he warns, grinning. “one kiss per pixel replaced. i will collect.”

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Caleb's streamer significant other.

Imagine it was supposed to be a normal stream.

Imagine it was just a regular night of you. Your headset and some mildly concerning energy drinks. You were three matches deep into ranked, half losing your voice, half losing your sanity and fully locked in.

"Alright, alright, we push A this time." You said, already running in site. "No thoughts. Just aim. Trust. Have fun." And then a familiar name popped up in chat.

1sht1kll: Be honest. You got a boyfriend?

Imagine the way you raised a brow. "Boyfriend?" You peeked A short, headshotted Reyna and casually leaned back. "Nah" You said smug. "Who needs a boyfriend when I've got recoil control and abandonment issues?" The chat exploded.

Ztrope: LMAO BYE

Abcdefg: Single queen alert

Ladsslave: THAT'S why your aim's so clean. No distractions.

2days3days: So you're saying I can apply??

Imagine the way you grinned as the you clutch the round. "Applications open. Must bring snacks and not ask me to log off. Ever." And then.

10,000 DONATION: ColonelApple

Message: Interesting. When did I get replaced by snacks?

Imagine the way your heart stopped. And the name. The name. You blinked at the screen like it personally betrayed you. "… Huh?"

Ztrope: WHO??

Abcdefg: 10K TO CLAIM YOU??

Ladsslave: They said no boyfriend and this guy shows up swinging.

2days3days: Bro what kind of username is ColonelApple

Imagine the way your headset nearly slipped off. "Chat. Relax. It's just- He's… a friend."

15,000 DONATION: ColonelApple

Message: A friend who literally pays your rent?

Imagine the way you choked. "CA- Caleb-!" Chat exploded again.

Ztrope: EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ****

Ladsslave: Not them saying 'friend' while living with a sugar daddy

Abcdefg: Rent??? That's a boyfriend or a very expensive ghost

1sht1kll: Girl if he's a friend I'm a space pilot

Imagine you were already blusing so bad trying to form words when a new notification came in.

20,000 DONATION: ColonelApple

Message: Drink your water. Don't make me call a restaurant again.

Imagine the way you wheezed. "I was going to drink-"

30,000 DONATION: ColonelApple

Message: Do it now.

Imagine you eventually grabbed the water bottle with trembling fingers. Mumbling something about being cyberbullied by your own boyfriend.

Ztrope: OH SO HE IS YOUR BOYFRIEND

Abcdefg: Chat W

2days3days: I knew it. I KNEW IT.

Ladsslave: You lied to us and got caught in 4K by your rich, passive-aggressive boyfriend

Imagine you ran a hand down your face. "Okay. Look. Technically… I never said I don't have a boyfriend. I said I didn't need one."

25,000 DONATION: ColonelApple

Message: Keep talking. Let's see if you still get your GPU upgrade.

"You're bluffing." You froze.

30,000 DONATION: ColonelApple

Message: Am I?

Imagine you screamed. "Caleb! You're being so dramatic- stop donating, you're gonna bankrupt yourself!" He didn't respond. But the chat did.

Ztrope: I want a jealous sugar daddy too 😭

Abcdefg: show his face. no more faceless rich boyfriend propaganda

1sht1kll: Guys 100 says he's mid

Ladsslave: 200 says he's hot and smug about it

Imagine the way you laugh and held up your hands. "Okay, okay. No face reveals today. He's not even home. Probably doing something military and mysterious. You know, colonel things."

Imagine right on cue your door creaked open. You froze. "... No way." Caleb stepped in like he belonged there. Which to be fair, he did. Wearing his dark jacket, underneath you could already see his sleeves rolled up, holding your favorite takeout in one hand and your cat in the other.

Imagine he looked at you. Then at the camera. And smirked. "Still single?" You died. Your chat died harder.

Ztrope: I AM ON THE FLOOR

Abcdefg: BRO??? BROOOOO???

2days3days: NOT THE BARE ARMS. HE'S HANDSOME. I'M MAD

1sht1kll: 100 down the drain. I was humbled.

Imagine Caleb walked over like a man on a mission. He set the food down, handed you the cat then leaned into the mic with all the casual confidence of someone who could win a war and still be home for dinner.

"Next time they ask if you have a boyfriend." He said, eyes on the screen. "Just tell them this guy's got his own aircraft."

50,000 DONATION: ColonelApple

Message: And they still think they have a chance?

Imagine the way you screamed again. "Caleb!" He kissed your cheek. "Hey. You told them you were single. I'm just correcting misinformation."

Ladsslave: I can't even be mad. he’s EARNED the smug

Ztrope: the aircraft reveal… the timing… the face…

Abcdefg: Yeah I'd flex him too

2days3days: we lost. good game everyone.

Imagine you sat there, still holding the cat, still blushing like a maniac, totally forgetting about your game that is now over while your chat grieved their collective delusion.

Imagine Caleb opened the takeout for you, adjusted your chair, and whispered. "You're streaming for another hour, right?" You nodded weakly still processing how everything unfolded. "... Yeah."

Imagine he pulled over another chair. "Good. I'm queueing with you." Your jaw dropped. "Wait- Caleb. You don't even play- Do you even know how to play valorant?"

Imagine he already had the second PC starting. And when the queue popped? He actually top fragged. Casually. Effortlessly. As if he wasn't a military colonel who flew fighter jets and apparently now stole hearts on stream too. And chat? Chat was never the same again.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

[kidsstories1]

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[pinkcasket]

foldable phones are unironically great like I cannot exaggerate how much I love my z flip. I moved from apple to android after using iphones my entire life and regret absolutely nothing. I had the z flip 3 for 2 years with zero issues (and I am NOT easy on my phones). currently have the flip 5 and it's fantastic! the cover screen!!!!! the look!!!!!

[levigarden999]

you're feeling insecure ⋆˙⟡ famous!bakugo x reader

༉‧₊˚. theme : bakugo being a softie 'cuz you're feeling insecure about yourself

༉‧₊˚. warnings : suggestive language

ever since your boyfriend!bakugo became a professional in saving human lives, he also became famous. of course, he was a great hero so it was only natural for him to be in the news and interviews constantly. however, you weren’t expecting how… boldly people would react to his attractive looks and muscular body.

you were jealous. there was no denying that.

every time you scrolled tik tok or watched instagram reels, he popped up on your screen. and every time it happened, you would expect it would be just a regular news clip where he blew the villain up or saved a kitten from a tree. but no, they were fucking edits. edits of your goddamn boyfriend.

the edits were high quality 4k thirst trap footage of what was yours, hundreds of thousands of likes on each of them and hundreds of girls screaming and simping in the comment section.

once again you were met with this kind of video – this time it was an edit of a fight which happened a few weeks ago. in that fight bakugo got slightly injured. you remembered how he came home that night with a ripped hero suit which was dripping blood and you nearly collapsed from worry. you remembered how bakugo spent the night curled up in your arms, the only thing soothing him from the intense fight was your touch and coos.

but now, there were edits of that same damn fight that had injured him. a slow motion clip of his grin when he had finally made the villain collapse, a sensual song playing in the background as the clip zoomed and lingered on his scarred abs which were now visible through the ripped suit.

and once again, you made a mistake with opening the comment section.

raw next question

5 mins and a hair tie

born to ride forced to scroll

ughhh i need him so bad

your jaw clenched in anger and jealousy as you read through the lewd comments.

however, the worst moments always happened when you two attended those absolutely ridiculous interview events where fans were allowed to attend as well. bakugo was practically forced to attend – because he probably drew in the most fans from all the heroes there – but he only accepted the offer if you could come as well. you obviously said yes, there was no way you’d leave him alone in the middle of those squealing girls.

tonight was the worst.

you and bakugo were standing in the middle of a red carpet, reporters and cameras and fans surrounding you. luckily the fans were isolated from the actual carpet with a fence, but they were still far too close in your opinion.

bakugo stood beside you with a black suit on. he was so effortlessly handsome with his unkempt hair and stoic face. hell, why did he have to look so good?

as reporters pushed the mics in his face, you tightened the grip around his arm. cameras flashed and fans screamed.

”so, dynamight, i heard you were offered to model for calvin klein? i’m sure your fans would love this to happen! what do you think about it?” a middle aged woman reporter asked, beaming. she completely ignored your presence even though you shot her a dirty look.

bakugo scratched the back of his neck and scowled, as if he had no idea what she even talked about. he probably didn’t, because he had told his manager to turn off any sponsor ship offers like that.

”klein’s clothes are low quality anyway, so no. especially the underwear” he grumbled, trying to push the mic away from his damn face. you couldn’t help but smirk a little, he was so polite yet rude at the same time.

”o-oh! well, i bet your fans are disappointed!” she continued with those annoyingly red lips and flashy smile. ”what do you think about your fans, dynamight? you sure have a certain audience, don’t you?” she continued pressing.

at that, the fans surrounding you squealed and screamed to the point you were sure your eardrums exploded. katsuki only frowned again and very openly rolled his eyes.

”they’re fans, nothing special. now, if you’ll excuse me-” he said more firmly and wrapped an arm around you as he began to lead you inside the extravagant hotel to the actual event. you couldn’t help but smile proudly, knowing that bakugo was mostly just absolutely irritated by his childish fanbase.

the girls giggled and tried to ask bakugo for an autograph or a selfie, anything. you glanced over at them and immediately felt your stomach drop – they were so beautiful. tiny dresses and tits spilling out and big lips and wide eyes were everywhere.

all for bakugo, your boyfriend.

you felt your chest tightening, your confidence suddenly crumbling to pieces.

you heard their screams, even the whispers and giggles.

”he’s so much hotter in real life”

”is that his girlfriend? she’s not even all that”

”katsukiii! i love you!” someone even cried and sobbed while someone else threw a pair of goddamn pink panties on the red carpet, with the words dynamight on the front.

as you finally made it to inside of the hotel, you were already on the verge of tears. you rarely ever attended these events with him which was why you weren’t used to the intensity of everything. you were holding back tears, hands gripping his big arm harder than you realized.

”you okay?” bakugo suddenly asked, softened red eyes down at you, a slightly concerned arch between his eyebrows.

you turned your head up to him and gulped the lump down your throat. maybe the girls were right. maybe you didn’t deserve him after all.

”y-yeah” you mumbled. however, bakugo knew better. he noticed the way you suddenly took your hands off from him and fixed the straps of your dress to hide your cleavage. he noticed the way you crossed your arms over your stomach. he even noticed the way your shoulders slumped a little – you were trying to hide yourself from him.

bakugo wasn’t having anything of that. no way his beautiful, kind, amazing girlfriend was feeling insecure.

without any words he grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side, to a hallway which was in a secluded place.

”katsuki, what-” you tried to ask with a shaky tone, but you didn’t even have the time to finish your sentence. his soft lips were on yours, warmth spreading all over your body as he expressed his love which was meant personally for you.

his large, scarred hands held your cheeks softly, thumbs rubbing against the skin there as he gently moved his lips against yours. there wasn’t any tongue, anything forceful or desperate – it was a confident yet gentle act which's purpose was only to remind you that he was yours.

as he pulled back, your eyes were slightly widened, mouth still agape. your mind had been emptied with a single kiss – the thoughts of inferiority forgotten as you stared at the red eyed, firm looking man in front of you.

”don’t hide yourself. and stop that overthinking, there’s no way you actually think you’re inferior to those ridiculous girls” bakugo nearly hissed. he wasn’t angry at you though, he was angry at his fans who had made you feel like this.

”i- no, i just, they’re all so pretty-” you stuttered out, arms wrapping around your body again.

”nuh uh, don’t even go there, beautiful” he stopped you from talking again and looked down at your body while his hands wrapped around yours to stop you from hiding yourself again.

bakugo sighed and let your hands go, but instead placed them on your hips.

he rubbed his hands up and down on your sides, the warmth of them coming through the fabric of your dress.

”you know i goddamn love every inch of you. don’t ever say you aren’t beautiful or that those extras are prettier than you” he grumbled, a hint of firmness yet affection mixed in his tone. his hands ran over your stomach now, to your chest and behind your back to your ass, until they were on your sides again.

he leaned down, warm breath fanning against your neck now.

”you want proof of how i think you’re the most fucking beautiful woman i’ve ever seen?” he murmured against your skin and before you knew, he pressed his crotch against your thigh. you could only feel his hardness poking against your skin and it made you blush.

”here. your sexy ass manages to get this reaction out of me even after all these years. i touch your body for one second and i’m hard as fucking titanium”

you giggled.

bakugo pulled back and his eyes softened a little as he searched your face. it was the look of love, adoration.

”i’ve seen at least a million fans of mine throughout these years. and you know what? every time i’ve wished they were you. but of course, they haven’t been” he admitted with a small chuckle.

his hands roamed on your sides and hips again.

”sometimes i get through the fucking stupid fan meetings only by imagining you at home, safe and curled up on couch. the fact i get to come home every night to… you. it’s a thought that keeps me doing this shit, really” he continued and you could tell there was a hint of blush on his cheeks. the poor man was embarrassed.

you snickered and took his face in your hands, a gentle and loving smile spreading on your lips.

”imagine the reporters seeing you all soft like this. it would make a headline” you teased. bakugo only huffed and blushed deeper, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

”shut your pretty mouth, brat. don’t tempt me to shut it for you”

your arms found themselves wrapped around his neck as you smirked, playfully challenging him.

”oh? and how would you do that, dynamight?” your voice took a much more seductive turn.

fuck. he absolutely loved the way you drawled out the dynamight. bakugo’s eyes visibly darkened and his jaw clenched.

before you knew it, he grabbed your hand from behind his neck and pulled you away.

”let’s get home and i’ll show you, fucking minx”

now as you walked out through the very same sea of fans, you smiled smugly and walked proudly beside him, giving all the girls dirty, knowing smirks.

[pochaccoups]

facetime — choi seungcheol & yoon jeonghan

pairing — choi seungcheol x yoon jeonghan x f!reader

summary — when three people in a relationship want to fuck but one of them is in a different country, facetime comes in pretty handy.

wc — 4k

warnings — nsfw content minors dni! smut, established polyamorous relationship, threesome (technically), phone sex, butt plugs, anal and vaginal fingering, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, so much dirty talk, soft dom!seungcheol, brat tamer!seungcheol, prone bone, creampie, slight daddy kink, reader referred to as a girl, a lot of ‘cheollie’ and ‘hannie’ sorry but i think they sound cute

author’s note — umm hi can u tell i had so much fun writing this …… this will be part of a poly jeongcheol series i have in the works so pls stay tuned and enjoy !!! :>

seungcheol: just finished up the show, what are you up to?

jeonghan: busy.

Attached is a photo that’s slightly shaky and dimly lit, but Seungcheol can make out every detail of you with Jeonghan’s cock halfway down your throat. 

It takes less than a second for Seungcheol’s caller ID to pop up on Jeonghan’s phone screen, and Jeonghan doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Yah… You know I hate being left out,” is the first thing Seungcheol says. The sound of his deep voice makes you draw your mouth off of Jeonghan.

“Cheollie?” you ask, beaming as you snatch your boyfriend’s phone from his hands so that you can see your other boyfriend through the screen. 

“Hi, pretty,” Seungcheol says, waving. He looks hot, but that’s a perpetual characteristic of his. He hasn’t removed his makeup yet, and his hair, getting longer, is still styled from the show. “Miss me?”

“So much. We both do,” you say with a grin. You make a show of mouthing at Jeonghan’s cock for the camera, sticking out your tongue so you can slap the tip on it, swirling it around, all with a faint mischievous gleam in your eyes at the sound of one boyfriend’s whines and the other’s sulking.

“Yeah? Doesn’t really seem like you do,” Seungcheol says, laying back on a bed that’s way too soft, too cold, too far away. 

“Seungcheollie, you know how needy our girl is-ah,” Jeonghan pipes up, moaning as you wrap your lips around him and bob your head up and down. 

“I do know, and you’re not innocent either, Jeonghan. You miss getting your pretty little ass fucked, don’t you?” 

You worry Jeonghan will bust then and there from the way his cock twitches in your mouth, but fuck was Seungcheol right. It’s why you all prefer to have sex with all three of you present, because at this point having someone missing feels… weird. Not bad. Definitely not. But the absence of a third lover becomes far too apparent.

Right now, you and Jeonghan don’t have much of a choice though. Duty calls, meaning Seungcheol is touring on the other side of the world—has been for the last two weeks and will be for another two weeks. Jeonghan would be with him if it weren’t for his enlistment. Alas, you have Seungcheol’s voice to do what it does best: tell you two exactly what to do. 

“Take all of him, baby, you know you can,” he says, soft and slightly commanding in a way that makes you want to do good just for him, make him proud. And you’ve taken Seungcheol, who’s a little longer and far thicker, all the way down your throat many, many times before that swallowing Jeonghan’s entire length feels like a mere warmup. 

Pride swells through you when your two boyfriends curse above you, filling you with an eagerness to give them more. So while one of your hands holds the phone, albeit shakingly, your other hand pumps the base of Jeonghan’s cock, in rhythm with your mouth as you bob up and down. It’s wet and obscene, the way you lap up the precum that leaks from your boyfriend’s tip only to let it spill from your lips and drool all over him, all over your fingertips. 

Your eyes never break away from Seungcheol, who’s chewing on his bottom lip and staring at you with eyes that are both clouded over with desire and dark with concentration. If you know your boyfriend then he’s thinking of all the things he would do if he was in the same room as you two.

Jeonghan doesn’t expect it when one of your spit-slick fingers creeps down to his ass and traces his hole, and he squirms and cries as you prod at his opening before pushing inside. He’s taken Seungcheol many, many times, too, that your finger should feel like a warmup, but two weeks without his boyfriend’s cock stretching him out is torture, so the slide of your digit in and out is a sweet relief that he’s forgotten. 

You pull your mouth away from him, sitting up on your knees so that you can angle the camera for Seungcheol to watch as your finger dips in, all the way to your knuckle, then back out of Jeonghan’s hole. 

“He’s so whiny today, Cheollie.”

“Mm, more than usual, huh?” he replies, licking his lips, his hand reaching to his crotch to palm at it just a little. He thinks about how his fingers are twice as thick as yours, how Jeonghan would sob if it was his hands inside him. 

“He misses your fat cock,” you say, and Seungcheol feels his sanity jump straight out of his hotel window. You’ve always proven detrimental to his patience and self-control, taking years off of your poor boyfriend’s life with your bratty ways. “Right, Hannie?” you say, right as you pull your finger out of him, grinning as he squirms and curses under his breath as a reply.

You only stop fingering him because you have an idea. With the phone still in hand, you dangle yourself off the side of the king bed to open one of the bedside table drawers, grab the silver heart-shaped plug and bottle of lube, then clamber back between your boyfriend’s legs. Jeonghan watches with glistening eyes as you drizzle the plug with lube. Once it’s drenched, you flip the phone camera around, letting Seungcheol watch as you press the tapered end of the plug against Jeonghan’s hole. The cold toy makes him flinch at first, and he shudders as you circle his rim with it until he’s thoroughly smeared with the sticky liquid. 

The sound Jeonghan makes when you push the plug inside of him is pitiful, and it’s in harmony with a deep groan of approval from Seungcheol. You’re the furthest one from dominant among the three of you, and yet you have these men dangerously wrapped around your finger. Your men.

“There,” you say, content, like you’ve just painted a masterpiece—and your boyfriend’s pretty ass with a cute heart-shaped butt plug nestled inside comes pretty close. 

“That’s my girl. So thoughtful,” says Seungcheol, and his praise ignites you with a sense of accomplishment that rivals the highest of promotions. 

“Can I make him eat me out now?” you ask, because it’s Cheol who does this best; sets the pace, tells you what to do, lets you sit in the palm of his hand while he does all the thinking for the three of you. A true leader, through and through. 

“Keep sucking Hannie off, baby, just for a bit,” is his instruction. It would be easy to disobey him, yes, to disconnect the call and turn off the phone if you so pleased, but the thing about Seungcheol is that even when his voice is soft, it still commands. 

You pout only for the sake of pouting because, really, having Jeonghan’s cock in your mouth is one of your favourite pastimes. You waste no time swallowing him all the way down to his base again, only to pop right back off him just to hear a tortured moan from him. You fall back into an up and down bobbing rhythm then, steadily, lips wrapped tight around your boyfriend’s length in the way that you know won’t make him last long. 

“Jeonghannie,” Seungcheol calls out, but the man in question is too busy whining and whimpering to hear him. When he’s close his brain all but shuts off and the only thing he can do is take whatever he’s getting with pretty, pretty moans. 

“Baby, don’t let him cum yet,” Seungcheol urges you instead. 

Jeonghan nearly sobs this time when you pop your mouth off his cock, but there’s a force in Seungcheol’s voice that compels you to listen. “Yes, daddy,” you say—the cherry on top.

Seungcheol drags a hand over his face, groaning. “Fuck, you two want me dead, huh?”

“Yeah, well, you two are disgusting… and annoying,” says Jeonghan, who sounds thoroughly irritated as a cute frown knits his brows together. 

Poor, poor you, with not one but two needy, jealous boyfriends who can’t stand not being the subjects of all your affection. If it was you in Seungcheol’s position, alone on the other side of the world, you would never get this sulky. You’d be completely rational about it. Obviously.

The urge to soothe Jeonghan comes as an instinct, one that makes you crawl up from between his legs so that you can straddle his slender waist and kiss his pouting lips. He melts into you when you do, mouth moulding against yours so sweetly, his hands falling to your waist and the tips of his fingers dancing softly against your skin. The Facetime call is forgotten, much to Seungcheol’s dismay, as you drop the phone to the bed in favour of cradling Jeonghan’s cheeks in your hands so that you can kiss him harder. Your crotch, still clothed, rocks back and forth over his erection and soon you’re moaning into one another’s mouths, muffled by your tongues that are swirling together. 

Jeonghan doesn’t have half of Seungcheol’s strength to manhandle you around, so he opts to gently guide you off his lap and onto the bed until you’re underneath him. He kisses you once, twice, thrice, leaves you reeling as he moves on to pepper your neck with soft nibbles and scrapes of his teeth. He pulls away for a moment only to drag your t-shirt (one of Seungcheol’s, of course) up and over your head. 

Now that you’re less occupied with Jeonghan’s lips, you pick up the phone again and bring the camera up to your face, grinning at Seungcheol’s small pout on the screen. If you could only hop through the phone and into his lap, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

“Cheollie, wanna see your cock, please,” you say, shivering as Jeonghan mouths at one of your nipples. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue as his hands reach up to grasp your tits delicately, and you sigh when his warm, wet mouth envelops one of your hardened buds. 

“Not yet, baby, I’ll take it out when Jeonghan fucks you, okay?” 

Seungcheol chuckles fondly at your unhappy hum, so he adds, “I wanna cum with you two, yeah?”

“Okay, fine- wait, Hannie,” you whine. “My boobs.”

He peers up, already between your legs, having decided he was done giving attention to your tits. You see right through it—your boyfriend is nothing if not vengeful. 

“You’re too spoiled,” he quips, peeling your shorts and panties down your legs, exposing your drooling pussy to him. 

“And you’re used to Cheollie doing everythi-ahh!” Jeonghan cuts you off when he licks your cunt without warning, sending your eyes rolling back into your head and your hand grabbing a fistful of his now-short hair. He’s far from rough and aggressive, but it’s precisely the patient softness of his touch that leaves you keening for more. 

“Baby, can you do me a favour?” Seungcheol asks, practically cooing as he watches your eyes glaze over with pleasure.

But all you can focus on is the way that Jeonghan’s warm tongue flicks lazily over your clit as well as the grip of his fingers on your thighs. 

“Baby?” Seungcheol tries again, only a little louder. This time your eyes flick to him on the screen and you make a little affirmative noise. “Will you flip the phone screen around for me, please? I wanna watch Hannie eat your pretty pussy.”

You do as he asks, pointing the camera to give Seungcheol a view of his boyfriend between his girlfriend’s thighs. 

“Good girl,” he says, breathier now, his tone darker. It’s deliberate; malicious, you would say—his praise makes you a whiny, needy mess. His voice alone turns you into a slut and he knows that because you’d told him that, word for word. “And since I’m not there, can you play with your tits for me, baby? The way that I would do it? I know it’s not the same, but it’ll still feel good.” 

“Mhm,” you moan. You find yourself closing your eyes as you let go of Jeonghan’s hair and bring your hand to cup your own breast, to squeeze and grope at it, to tweak and tug at your nipple, all while imagining that you’re leaned against your boyfriend’s sturdy, broad body and that it’s his big, unrelenting hand cupping your tits and not your own. 

At the same time, Jeonghan eats your pussy like the fiend that he is. Unlike Seungcheol, who lacks the control to stop himself from ravaging you like an animal until your pussy is raw and puffy, Jeonghan is much more, as he is in all aspects of his life, calculated. He’ll string you along with swipes of his tongue that seem coy until he’s making passes through your folds, prodding at your dripping, awaiting entrance. He licks into your hole and sips at your arousal like it’s honey, intent on making you fall apart slowly.

“How does his mouth feel, angel? Tell him,” says Seungcheol, whose lips have gotten swollen from his relentless chewing on them.

“God, Hannie, feels so good,” you squeak, your eyes still screwed shut as if that’ll help soothe the heat that burns through your body from Jeonghan’s mouth. Your fingers keep pinching at your nipple, and then Jeonghan slips two of his fingers into your heat, sending your hips bucking against his face and leaving you whining desperately, shamelessly. 

While his mouth makes out with your cunt, Jeonghan’s fingers dip in and out of you, massaging at your most sensitive spot over and over. He finds it with practiced ease, and he knows by now exactly what kind of vigour it needs to have you crying. He’s practically petting at your insides, your walls clamping around his fingers as your moans start to grow louder.

“H-hannie, I’m close, please, right there,” you squirm as your walls attempt to suck his fingers in.

You don’t see it, but his eyes flash with something devilish. Your other boyfriend sees it, though. 

“Jeonghan, don’t even think about edging her.”

Jeonghan smirks with mischief, letting his fingers do the work as he pulls his mouth away from your pussy. 

“Let me have my fun, Seungcheollie.” 

“If I did that neither you nor her would cum at all,” is your other boyfriend’s response. 

There’s silence as Jeonghan ponders whether he should obey or disobey. All the while, you’re mere inches away from your edge, hot with frustration because it’s so close; you’re so close. You just need a little bit more. It’s not too much to ask.

“Hannie, please…”

And he can’t find it in himself to deprive you any longer, so he crooks his fingers and works them as fast as he possibly can until you’re clenching, gushing, writhing all around his hand, wailing his name as you grab at his wrist but he still won’t stop. 

“Such a good boy, huh, Jeonghannie? Making her cum so good,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, sounding more breathless with each time he speaks. “Now we’re all happy.”

It’s only once your walls have stopped spasming around his fingers that Jeonghan finally slips them out of you and pops them straight into his mouth, licking them clean of every drop of your sugary arousal. He makes sure to gaze directly into the camera as his tongue laves and swirls over each one of his digits, knowing Seungcheol’s dick is twitching at the sight.

“I haven’t cum yet though. So I’m not happy yet,” he says, dragging a finger out of his mouth with a pop.

You sit up on your elbows with your cute, blissed out features, your eyes falling to his red-hard cock. 

“Come here and fuck me, then,” you say, impatient, like he didn’t just give you an orgasm. You paw at the hem of his shirt (also Seungcheol’s) and bite your lip as he pulls it over his head, letting your hands roam over his pale torso.

“Ride me?” he asks. How predictable. If it’s not Seungcheol taking him from behind then it’s you on top of him. God forbid Yoon Jeonghan does the work.

“Actually, I have a better idea. And this way Cheollie can see us both,” you say with a grin. 

With the phone on the front-facing camera, you prop it up against the headboard and roll onto your stomach, craning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Like this?” Jeonghan asks, straddling the backs of your thighs.

“Yeah,” you say, parting your legs a little, arching your back and raising your hips—presenting your soaked, messy hole to him. “Try not to get tired.”

He responds with a half-hearted smack to your ass and Cheol scoffs out a chuckle. Jeonghan slides his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, revelling in your tiny gasps every time it catches on your entrance. You’re prepared to whine and nag at your boyfriend to hurry up, but you suppose he’s feeling just as impatient as you are because he’s pushing in before you can even speak up. You look at Seungcheol, mouth dropping as you’re stuffed full with Jeonghan’s cock until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. His hands land on either side of your elbows so that he can hover over you, reel his hips back, and fuck himself into you like that. 

In this position, Jeonghan’s length brushes right against your gummy, sensitive spot with every stroke, making you keen for more even though he’s just started. 

“Harder, Hannie,” you sigh, pushing your ass up against his hips.

Instead of listening, he drops his head to the crook of your shoulder and kisses your skin. His breath tickles your ear when he whispers to you: “ah, what’s the rush, angel?”

You turn your head to catch his gaze, to drink in the sight of his face as he takes what he needs from you; his cheeks pink, his eyes tired and full of hunger. His lips, plump and enticing, evoke an unrivalled craving within you and he reads you well, brings his mouth to yours to give you as much satiation as he can muster. 

Seungcheol sits, silent, waiting. His patience is mere embers as he watches you two, his boyfriend and his girlfriend, tangled within one another. The wet slap of Jeonghan’s balls against the back of your thighs; the smacking of your lips, teeth, and tongues. He misses it. Fuck, he could go insane. 

“Cheollie,” you whine, when Jeonghan’s lips are no longer enough. “Want you to feel good too.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he replies, abandoning all semblance of the self-control he’d displayed up until now. It’s time, anyway, he thinks. He’s held off long enough. He puts his phone down and there’s shuffling as he strips himself of his sweat-soaked outfit from the show and settles upon the bed sheets once more. 

Saliva pools from the sides of your mouth when he angles his camera to show you his hand wrapped around his thick, erect dick and God, what you’d do to have it bruising the back of your throat until you’re gagging, letting him defile you all while he coos the sweetest of praises at you. 

“Daddy, I miss your cock so bad,” you admit in a weak whimper, shivering when Jeonghan angles himself deeper inside you.

“Yeah? Miss how I’d fuck your pretty little mouth?”

“Fuck, she’s clenching so hard around me, Seungcheollie,” Jeonghan grits. “Greedy little thing.”

“I mean, it’s our fault one cock’s not enough to make her happy anymore,” says Seungcheol, sighing with relief as he thumbs at his leaking tip, squeezing his fist around it, reminiscent of the way that you and Jeonghan like to tease him.

“Like I said,” says Jeonghan as he pushes two of his fingers between your parted lips. “Spoiled.”

You moan around them, staring straight into the camera as you suck on them, staring at Seungcheol, who starts to pump his hand up and down his cock. He wants to shut his eyes and pretend it’s your hand, or Jeonghan’s hand, or one of your tight, warm holes, but he can’t take his eyes off of his phone screen no matter how hard he wants to, and, well, he doesn’t want to.

He jerks himself off to the same rhythm that Jeonghan’s hips grind into yours. Seungcheol likes things a little faster, usually, more rough, but it’s Jeonghan who’s inside you right now, not him, so he matches his boyfriend’s lazy but not too slow pace, one that’s just enough to give you a gradual stimulation. 

There’s something about the whole thing—being fucked on camera, being teased with Seungcheol’s cock when you can’t have it—it has you way more excited than you expected. Way more turned on than you expected. It shows in the floods of arousal that drip from your pussy and dampen yours and Jeonghan’s thighs, in the way you’re whinier and more sensitive than usual.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s own noises don’t help. In fact they spur you on, coax you closer to your edge, urge the heat in your belly to grow. When Seungcheol isn’t giving deep, rasped curses, he’s letting out pretty, breathy, borderline whimpering moans. Jeonghan’s sounds are as angelic as he is. His voice is a holy choir in your ear, heavenly and soft as he gasps with exertion and pleasure; as he does things to you that any God would frown upon.

Jeonghan, too, is more sensitive. With the plug constantly brushing at his prostate, he can’t help but screw his eyes shut and pretend it’s his big, buff boyfriend fucking his girth into him. It makes his thrusts grow raggedy, like he’s more heavy. His body weight presses into you as his arms start to ache just a little. He’s impossibly deep in your guts like this and it feels so fucking good that your brain starts to melt. 

Seungcheol recognises the look in your eye—absent, like you’re starting to tap out and letting yourself become consumed by bliss.

“Is she getting close, angel?” he questions, punctuating it with a moan, the slick glide of his hand up and down his cock like music in your ears.

Jeonghan hums affirmatively. “Pretty pussy’s choking me,” he says, his voice cracking, his composure with it. He tries to put more vigour in his thrusts, more determination. The sooner you cum, the sooner he cums. 

“Cum for Jeonghannie, baby,” Seungcheol urges softly. 

“Cum for me,” Jeonghan echoes. You don’t stand a chance.

The heat inside you coils up, then erupts. Jeonghan fucks you through your climax as you tremble beneath him, crying his name and clawing at the sheets below you. 

“There it is, my good girl,” Seungcheol coos, tightening his grip on his cock as he tugs at it harshly as though it could ever replicate the feeling of your warm walls clamping down on him as you cum. 

“Ah, fuck,” Jeonghan gasps, dropping his head to your shoulder, cock twitching. His next request is a broken, pathetic moan. “Ch-cheollie, cum with me.”

Jeonghan stills inside you, whimpering softly with every rope of cum that he spills inside you, letting you milk him of every last drop. At the same time, Seungcheol gives a resounding groan as he brings himself to his own release, cum splattering over his toned stomach. 

There’s a moment of silence, or, rather, nothing but a harmony of laboured breaths as the three of you come down from your orgasms. You give a noise of protest as Jeonghan suddenly rolls off of you, but his stamina is always drained after sex—especially when he’s doing the work. You shiver, both from the emptiness in your cunt and the cold air that hits you now that you no longer have your boyfriend’s body as a shield from it. 

“Seungcheollie’s gonna wanna see your cum leak out of me, you know,” you say. 

“You know me so well, baby,” is Seungcheol’s reply. 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. He makes no effort to move from his spot, opting to stretch his arm above his head and pat around until he finds the phone. He sits up next to you, points the camera between your legs as he grips one of your ass cheeks and spreads you apart. 

There’s a screenshot sound as white drools from your spent hole.

“Seungcheol!” you shriek. “You pervert.”

“Coups-ya, send that to me.”

thank you for reading! reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated <3

tags — @svtiddiess @ylangelegy @simpxxstan @caibeauchicfashion

[koushikrockboy]

G9Pro Cheap & Best Dual Screen 4K Wifi Action Camera Review

[vmantras]

OnePlus 13T Full Review: A Next-Gen Flagship That Balances Power, Elegance, and Endurance

The smartphone world is evolving rapidly, and OnePlus seems determined to stay ahead of the curve. With the OnePlus 13T, the brand delivers a phone that’s not just a spec powerhouse but also a refined experience, tuned for both enthusiasts and everyday users alike. Scheduled for release around May 31, 2025, this upcoming flagship is already turning heads—thanks to its future-ready chipset,…

[rafecameronssl4t]

thinking about this TikTok https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS6QMnM4U/ and maybe it’s Thornton!reader x Rafe and readers door bell camera is always capturing the two being super touchy and readers parents and even topper always unfortunately end up accidentally watching it bc they check it frequently 🤣🤣🤣

Caught in 4k || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

gif by @1liv

A/n: I LOVE THIS LMAOO here’s the tiktok btw

Warnings: just Rafe being super touchy

Word count: 1,024

MASTERLIST (rafe x Thornton!reader)

The soft chime of your phone alerted you to a text, and when you saw Rafe’s name flash across the screen, a thrill of excitement ran through you. “Here.” the message read, and you didn’t hesitate to spring from the couch and head for the door. Pushing the front door open, you stepped out into the warm evening, spotting him just as he was locking his car.

Rafe looked effortlessly handsome, his stance relaxed, his eyes immediately lighting up when they landed on you. You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face as you practically bounced down the steps toward him, arms already open. He met you halfway, a smirk tugging at his lips as his hands went straight to your waist, then slid lower to grip your ass.

His touch sent a pleasant jolt through you, and you squealed as he effortlessly hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his hips like it was second nature. “God, I missed you,” you murmured, smiling against his lips as he pressed a lingering kiss to your mouth. Rafe chuckled, his hands gripping you tighter, fingers brushing the bare skin where your shorts had ridden up.

“Missed you too,” he murmured, his tone low and warm. He carried you up the steps like you weighed nothing, pausing at the front door. But before he could set you down, one of his hands delivered a sharp smack to your ass, the sound cracking through the air. You gasped in surprise, your voice hitching as his fingers curled under the hem of your linen shorts, pushing them up even higher.

The cool evening breeze met your exposed ass, sending a shiver up your spine. “Rafe!” you hissed, a mix of shock and laughter in your voice as you squirmed in his grip. You tried to swat his hands away, but he only grinned, unbothered by your protests. “You like it,” he teased, his voice low and smug, making your cheeks burn.

Any retort you had was cut short by a sharp, familiar voice. “Are you two fucking serious right now?” You froze, your head whipping around toward the source of the voice. Your heart sank when your eyes landed on the doorbell camera mounted beside the door, the tiny red light blinking accusingly at you. “Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in Rafe’s chest in embarrassment.

“The fuck?” Rafe mumbled under his breath, his brows furrowing as he glanced at the camera. “I forgot my parents installed a new doorbell camera,” you groaned, your voice muffled against his chest. “Yeah, they fucking did,” Topper’s voice crackled through the speaker again, laced with exasperation. “And when they see the shit you two are pulling—” “Shut up, Topper!” you snapped, whipping your head around to glare at the camera.

Your cheeks were blazing now, and you reached for Rafe’s hand, tugging him toward the door. Rafe, ever the troublemaker, turned to face the camera with a cocky grin, raising a hand in a lazy wave. “Tell them we say hi,” he drawled before letting you pull him inside. “That’s still my little sister, shithead!” Topper’s voice shouted from the camera as Rafe shut the door firmly, the sound cutting off whatever else he had to say.

“You’re such an idiot,” you mumbled, shaking your head as you led Rafe deeper into the house. Rafe just laughed, leaning in close to kiss your temple. “Worth it,” he murmured smugly, his tone making it clear that he had zero regrets about his antics.

~

“And then she gave me the dirtiest look ever,” you scoffed, slamming the door shut behind you and locking it with a sharp twist of your wrist. The irritation from your encounter still lingered, and you couldn’t help but vent as you tossed your keys back into your purse. “Like, what is her problem?” you ranted, turning to face Rafe as he hummed in vague agreement, though it was clear he wasn’t fully listening.

“I know, right,” he muttered absently, his attention flickering elsewhere. “Bitch has never even talked to me—” your words were abruptly cut off when Rafe’s hands found your waist, tugging you closer in one swift motion. “What are you doing-,” you started, but your breath hitched as his fingers toyed with the hem of your tube top. He tugged it back just enough to get a peek before letting the fabric snap back against your skin with a playful smirk.

“Rafe!” you gasped, your jaw dropping in disbelief. “Haven’t seen the girls in so long,” he teased, faking a dramatic frown as his eyes flickered to your chest. “You’re such an ass,” you snapped, trying to sound stern, though your laughter betrayed you. Before you could say more, a familiar voice cut through the air, sharp and disapproving. “Rafe Cameron!”

You froze, your heart sinking into your stomach as your mother’s voice echoed through the room. Slowly, your eyes darted toward the doorbell camera you’d just walked past, the realisation hitting you like a truck. “Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, slapping a hand over your mouth as you glanced between Rafe and the blinking red light of the camera.

Rafe, ever the smooth talker, scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh, sorry, Mrs. Thornton,” he called out sheepishly, trying his best to sound sincere. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your mother’s likely glare palpable even through the camera. You didn’t dare say a word, too stunned to move.

Rafe, however, recovered quickly. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you toward the stairs. “Let’s go,” he whispered urgently, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter. You didn’t protest, the two of you breaking into a run as you bolted down the steps, bursts of nervous giggles spilling out of you both. Once outside, you scrambled into his car, breathless and still laughing as he started the engine.

“That was so bad,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands as you sank into the seat. Rafe’s grin was unapologetic as he glanced at you. “What? Your mom loves me,” he said with a wink, reaching over to squeeze your thigh before pulling out of the driveway.

[jaja-salute]

Feeding from the palm of your hand

summary: Wonwoo eats because you feed him.

pairings: jeon wonwoo x afab!reader

word count: 4k

tags/warnings: smut with plot, domestic scenario, established relationship, multiple positions, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, pussy drunk Wonwoo - like pussy obsessed (feed this man some pussy for the love of god), size kink goes brrrr, sort of body worship (reader receiving), wonu is a simp, fluff if you squint, he is in looooveeeee and we are in love with him, he is a disaster in the kitchen – I mean he is a gamer, poor diet Wonwoo, mentions of junk food

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Not safe for work

commentary: Happy Wonu day <3 (in Korea is already midnight and I couldn't wait anymore lol)

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write something like this again.

Hope you like it!

(Inspo: Minnie – Blind Eyes Red, d4vid, Hyunjin – Always Love, Rihanna – Birthday Cake, TVB Marti. Questa è per le mie Wonu gals <3)

Some help to visualise his moans in your heads <3

Tell me if I missed anything, and enjoy!

Reblogs and likes are highly appreciated :) <3

____________________________________________________________

You know the clichés on gamers, right?

They spend most of their time on their console, poor hygiene, poor diet, which usually consists in junk food or microwaved meals, they fuck good and have a big dick –

Your Wonwoo checked almost all the boxes (thankfully), but the harsh truth confirmed also that he was a complete disaster in the kitchen. Well not completely, but he came very close if one could burn literal water. When you two got together, you knew what were you getting yourself into, and you were more happy to oblige to handle the cooking in your shared home since he did everything else. You two started off a bit rocky, as he needed his time to open up to you and finally be comfortable enough. After that it was pure bliss.

He is a man who yearns silently, with no pressure but he lets you know that he misses you a little more than yesterday, and whenever he is with you his love is never bombed and filled with dramatic (coffcoffKwonSoonyoungcoffcoffChoiSeungcheolcoffcoff) gestures, but is that kind of loving that seeps into you from every crevice of your being and keeps you warm and longing for more of it.

He loves to the point that cheesy is an understatement, and he does it naturally, not even thinking about it. Like that time when you were taking pictures together at the park, each with your own camera as he wanted to teach you some photography skills. He snapped a picture of you, saying that he needs one for his wallet and one for his lockscreen, because you look too pretty to not look at every spare second his eyes have.

You knew he was a gamer, and that allowed you to have some time for your hobbies too, and let's be honest, you absolutely adored how he would come check on you between matches on LoL and peck you on the lips, getting lost in your taste a bit too much so that Seungcheol had to call him on Discord to get him back on the game, because ever since that time that Wonwoo fucked your brains out with the mic of his headset still on, Seungcheol learned to instantly mute Wonwoo whenever he excused himself from the game.

Today was his day off after months of never ending schedules, and obviously he wanted to spend his time nowhere other than on his PC and at home. When you came back from work, groceries in one hand and purse in the other, he was in the studio (gamer cave as you called it).

“Love? I’m home!” You take off your shoes and drop the groceries in the kitchen, then stroll to his studio. When you pop your head in the room you see you boyfriend immersed in the game, leaned back in his gaming chair, looking all smug and honestly almost disrespectful by how he is essentially annihilating  whoever is on the other side of the screen. When you come close you can hear Seungcheol cursing like a madman at your boyfriend. You let your hand slide down his arm in a soft caress, startling him slightly and he emits a surprised sound. He looks at you with soft eyes, matching his smile. “Hi baby, how was work?” he says as he shuts his mic and mutes the screaming Seungcheol (his last words were ‘DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TO LEAVE THE GAME YOU HORNY BASTA-’ click). “We can talk about it at dinner, finish the run before Seungcheol comes out of your headset and kills us both for ruining his gaming session.” You say as you peck his lips and run to the door before Wonwoo pulls you in his lap and kisses you some more. He sighs in defeat when you escape him, but there’s a smile now adorning his lips then he returns to the game. “Hyung you really suck at this huh?” he smiles wider when he pours gasoline on the fire that is Seungcheol’s anger.

By the time Wonwoo emerges from his studio you have already started dinner and got some side dishes ready. As you are by the stove distracted by the music in the room and what you are cooking, Wonwoo uses this moment to look at you unbothered. He is leaning on the doorframe, a content expression on his face. He is following the sway of your hips, moving on the rhythm of the song and his ears perk at the soft hum of your voice. Before he can realize it, he is already picking his phone and snapping a picture, adding it in the album he has selected where he has all your pictures on rotation as his lockscreen. He looks at you some more, then slowly approaches you from behind. His big hands meet your waist first, pulling himself closer to your back. You are now wearing one of his t-shirts that you stole months ago, the collar loose around your neck giving him the perfect access to his favourite part of your skin.

He is now pressed flush against your back, head on the side of yours as he peeks at what you are making, hands still holding you close, his palms warm against your skin, thumbs brushing against you tenderly. “What are you making that smells this divine?” “Japchae and some bibimbap, the rice should be ready any second now.” You respond in a distracted tone, keeping your attention on the food you are preparing. Wonwoo is not the type to act needy or demanding anything from you, but there are times when he needs the extra attention, and he can get passive aggressive about it. He kisses the top of your head, inhaling your scent that still faintly smells of your shampoo. He then moves to your temple, where he stops a little longer. “Love… don’t get me distracted.” He chuckles, that stupid little ‘tehehe’ sound he makes when he is acting cute when you catch him being naughty, but your warning doesn’t stop him and he is kissing your cheek next.

You give in and tilt your head so you can kiss his cheek too, and before you can retreat, he tilts his own head and locks you in a tender kiss. He travels from your mouth down your jaw and as he is about to start with open mouthed kisses on your neck, your warn him in a strained voice, “Jeon Wonwoo if you won’t let me finish dinner, I swear you are not allowed to enter this kitchen if not for washing dishes.” Your words have no bite in them as you betray yourself with a smile, and Wonwoo sports one of his own, then kisses you again on the lips. “Alright~” he says in his cutest voice, then another peck, “I’ll set the table”, another one, “and place the side dishes.” The last kiss lasts a heartbeat longer, as if he did not want to let go of your softness. You feel the loss of his warmth in the same way, almost regretting sending him to occupy himself with something different other than you.

Dinner goes by smoothly, you two talking about your respective days. Wonwoo has collected the dishes to wash them in the sink and you are sitting on the counter behind him, talking about something that your coworker did at work. He is listening and humming, occasionally saying a ‘No way’ and smiling softly the whole time. He loves how you fill his days, the silence he once cherished and guarded now being disrupted by your presence could have been the best thing that happened to him. He would not trade this for anything else.

Once he is finished, he simply dries his hands and turns to face you leaning on the sink behind him. He is looking at you, always with that content little smile of his, he could listen to you talking for the rest of his life. His gaze stops on your lips, watching as they move when you speak, tongue peeking when you articulate the words. He inhales briefly to steady himself, but his own eyes betray him, when his gaze moves slowly, almost reluctantly, down your neck. He loves it so much, burying his face in it when he is tired, kissing it when he wants you to feel warm, nibbling when he is deep in you at night and whispers words of love and pure lust in your skin. His eyes catch on the collar of his t-shirt, loosely hanging around the base of your neck. It’s loose enough for your collarbones to peek out, making his mouth salivate and hands tighten on the edge of the sink.

“-nu? Nonu?” Your voice calls him back to reality. “Are you alright love? You spaced out for a second.” You say with a chuckle. Wonwoo says nothing, instead he pushes himself from the sink and comes closer to you, placing his hands on each side of your thighs and leans in your face. “I got distracted looking at my beautiful girlfriend.” His eyes are already staring at your lips, but he manages to meet your gaze, which is growing heavier and hungrier thanks to his closeness. “God you are so cheesy.” You say rolling your eyes but unable to fight the smile on your lips. He smiles at your reaction, biting his lip to prevent it to spread wider, he looks at you, searching for your eyes as you avoid his gaze, his comment making you shy. “Don’t hide, show me those pretty eyes~” he says as he is following your face with his own. “Oh my god stop it” you say between giggles, making his heart skip a beat when he hears you. He is now smiling like an idiot, and when you feel his fingers threatening to tickle your sides you grab at his wrists and look at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile. “Don’t you dare to tickle me, you menace!” he laughs under his breath and says, “There they are, my favourite pair of eyes, my maze to get lost into.” His gaze is soft and so full of love it almost makes you gasp, and you feel your eyebrows frown in an awed expression after hearing him. “Oh my – you are insufferable.” You say with a groan, hiding your face behind your hands, blushing up to your ears.

He chuckles low, happy with your reaction and for making you shy. He then takes one of your hands from your face, turns it and places a kiss in your palm. You part your lips in a gasp, but no sound comes out, the feeling of his lips in your palm almost overwhelming, the gesture incredibly intimate. Then another one, still in your palm, as if saying ‘Here’s me, my love, all for you to dispose however you want.’ He looks up briefly up to meet your eyes, and when he sees that tension behind them at what will be coming next, he doesn’t restrain himself anymore, wanting to show you just how much he missed you today. His lips kiss your wrist and trail up your arm, one kiss after the other, slowly, teasingly. He earns a soft exhale at each peck that meets your skin. When he reaches your shoulder, you are already tilting your neck for him.

“Good girl.” He whispers in your skin before tasting his most treasured flavour. You sigh when you feel his lips on you, also because he is using the pet name he saves up only when you let him give into his desires. Wonwoo is growing intoxicated from the taste of your skin and its smell, his mouth is now behind your ear and he breaths a bit shakier and heavier than before. His hands have travelled one on your waist and the other is behind your upper back, between your shoulder blades, keeping you upwards. He feels goosebumps erupt under his lips and fingers, and smirks detaching himself to look at you. You are now blushing a deep shade of red on your cheeks and ears, breathing softly but not at ease. Your eyes are driving him mad, pupils dilated and heavy eyelids, screaming in lust and want.

You two liked to play this game, riling each other up and dancing on that thin thread of composure before it snaps under your feet and you fall, giving into your desire. He drags you by your hips to the edge of the counter and flush against him, his pelvis meeting yours and making him groan and you whimper feeling his hardness pushing into your clothed cunt. He liked to test that thread more than you, so he starts to slowly drag his hips against yours, breathing in your face and mouth once it parts when he grinds his head against your clit. You sneak your hand behind his head, dipping your fingers in his soft locks, brushing his scalp with your nails lightly. The feeling sends a shiver down his spine and makes him close his eyes and hum in pleasure. He loves feeling your hands on him, igniting sparks wherever you touch him. Your other hand slides up his torso, feeling up his chest and the pecs adorning it, plump and firm, muscles tensing slightly underneath tour caresses.

You let go of his hair, letting him breath and blink a few times to regain focus in his eyes, but that lasts short when his senses take in the information of your hands on him, and you proudly earn a low groan from him, making you smirk. Both of your hands are now on his broad shoulders, and you treat yourself to some groping, down to his biceps, then up to his shoulders again, dipping another time to his pecs and squeezing them lightly. That makes him frown with a half amused and half uncomfortable face, still not used to you groping his pecs, no matter how many times you like to do it. When he is about to move your hands from his pecs, you slide them lower down his abs, and his breath hitches again, your hands close to his erection. He has his eyes fixated on your hands, breathing heavily through his nose.

“Babe?” you call for him in a small voice and his head jolts upwards, eyes pitch black and tinted with desire. When his eyes lock with yours, his gaze shifts to the movement of your tongue, seductively licking your lips and wetting them for him to taste. “Oh for fuck’s sake-“ he curses under his breath and meets your lips in a heated kiss, head tilted to the side, lips taking your own between them, teeth lightly tugging at your bottom lip. You moan for him and he slips his tongue inside your mouth, licking at your own, under it and tickling the roof of your mouth. His hands have moved one behind your nape, burying in your hair and the other one is gripping at a handful of your ass. He tugs at your hair, tilting your head back and you gasp, he groans low in your mouth and moves from it to trace open mouthed kisses down your throat, nipping at your pulse points and lightly biting in the crook of your neck.

Hi hand is firmly holding your head in place when he resurfaces from your neck to look at you again. He is still towering over you even if you are seated on the counter, his frame engulfing your own. You whimper at the sight, realizing just how big your boyfriend actually is, the strength he has and how he can easily handle you to his liking. Wonwoo may have sensed a change in your gaze, submission draping over your eyes, and it makes his pulse quicken and blood run faster in his veins. He twitches in his pants, remembering that he was as hard as a rock right now, probably with precum seeping through his underwear and staining his pants. He groans again, louder now, when he grinds on your thigh to relieve himself with some friction. You whine at the feeling, as you can’t look at what he is doing but only feel it, courtesy of his hand holding your head in place. He is looking straight into your eyes, mouth parted and brows knitted together, visible struggle on his face as he is restraining himself. He is panting in your face, lips hovering over yours.

“Tell me how much you want it. How much you want me to fuck you right now, here on the counter of our kitchen, right where you were making dinner for us.” He says between heavy breaths, “I could take you here, right now, bend you over and take you from behind. I bet you are so soaked you won’t even need me to prep you.” He groans at the thought of your wet pussy, making himself twitch in his pants again. “So ready and eager to take me in deep, aren’t you love? All for me…” he kisses your neck and behind your ear, grinding against your thigh again and now moaning in your ear. “You feel so fucking good baby, I’m not even inside you and I want to cum already.” He chuckles breathlessly against your cheek, nuzzling it with his nose as he moans again when he trusts.

You are feeling like fire has erupted under your skin, squirming and shivering under him, the damp feeling of your panties stuck to your dripping core growing more uncomfortable with each breath you take. You have positively reached the point where you can’t take it anymore and you whine his name, pleading at him. “Babe, love please, please- Wonwoo please, just fuck me already babe, please!” he is looking at you bewildered, like he was hearing your voice again for the first time, after all, ever since he kissed you on the counter your words have been reduced to mere breathless whimpers and whines. He blinks his big brown eyes a few times to regain himself and then turns to you with a shuddering breath, forcing some confidence in him to cover the need in his voice. “My baby deserves something better than cold marble, don’t you baby?”

With that he grabs you under your knees and wraps your legs around his waist and carries you to your shared bedroom, kissing you on the way and letting you feel his hardness on your ass. Inside, he lays you on the mattress and keeps kissing you when his hands slide under your (his) t-shirt, feeling your warm and soft skin under his fingers, kneading the flesh in his hands. He inhales your scent with his face buried between your breasts, placing open mouthed kisses and biting into the softness of your tits, earning a whimper with each nip. You are left in your underwear, he is still wearing his sweats, and of course, his glasses. He is looking down at your flushed figure and groans, “Damn, you are beautiful, so beautiful..” his hand is now parting your thighs, dipping himself lower, his head between as he presses kisses in your thighs and biting in the flesh, savouring the taste, the plush of your thighs filling his mouth. He is leaving hickeys on his path, trailing from your neck down your chest and now decorating your thighs too. He is sliding your panties down your legs, kissing your knees and calves. When his eyes meet your wet folds, he groans low, sounding almost as if he whined at the sight.

He is dipping his head seconds after, glancing at your face one last time before devouring you. He licks with his tongue flat against your folds, slowly. He licks a few more long stipes before kissing your clit and sucking at it gently, increasing the suction progressively. He is humming and groaning when he takes a breath, obscene sounds coming from between your legs as he is making out with your folds, pleasuring himself by just your taste. He hooks his arms around your thighs when he dips deeper, shoving his face in your pussy eagerly. His glassed are sitting crooked on his face, poking at your thighs when he moves his face against your folds. His long fingers join his mouth to pleasure you, pumping at the same pace of his sucking and licking, curling and massaging you from the inside. It’s not long before you feel your orgasm approach, legs spasming and clit twitching, clenching rhythmically around his fingers as he continues to lick into you. When your orgasm hits you, shaking your entire body, you don’t realise that your legs have tightened around his head, squishing his face between your thighs.

When you come down from your high and look at him, he is breathless and a hundred times hornier than before. Then you notice his glasses, the Chrome Hearts pair, completely bent the wrong way, one stem broken. You bring a hand to your mouth and gasp in disbelief realizing what you did when you tightened your thighs around him. “Baby I’m sorry, your glasses, oh no..” the words die in your mouth when you see him throw them on the nightstand, then rising from the bed and take down his remaining clothes, now standing fully naked. His cock leaking and impossibly hard. He climbs on the bed, placing one of his palms behind one of your thighs ad the other guides his cock in front of your hole, then he sinks slowly in you, savouring every inch of it. He groans loud once he bottoms in you, leaving you huffing soft gasps and whining.

He places your legs on his shoulders and he wraps an arm around them as the other finds it’s place on your cheek, stroking it softly before he drags his hips from you, only to thrust them back against you. He sets a steady pace, a few moans escaping him between grunts. His free hand is now on your jaw, thumb in your mouth and pressing your tongue down. “You look so fucking good like this, fuck baby, you feel so good, so warm and wet. All for me, for m-e hnngah yes fuck yes baby yes...” he’s trying hard at talking to you , but the feeling of you clenching him and milking him with every drag is leaving him breathless. He has you now bent in half, you knees close to your chest as he fucks into you harder, chasing his pleasure and providing for yours. Sweat dripping from his nose on your cheek, his mouth parted and huffing grunts and moaning freely.

“God you are perfect, perfect for me, hhng oh fuck yes yes oh god, o-only for me.” You have your brain slowed down by the pleasure he is making you feel, not catching up with his movements and words, focused on his face, his eyes closed and brows knitted together, mouth parted as he breaths hard, his sounds fogging your mind even more. You are whining and moaning under him, messing up his thoughts and throwing any piece of reason out of the window. Before you know it, he pulls out of you as you whine in protest, then turns you on your stomach, throwing you around and manhandling you like you weight nothing. You are now with your face planted in the mattress, ass up in the air with you legs parted, knees wide. Your folds pulsating in anticipation on full display for him, and dangerously close to dripping on the already ruined sheets under you. Wonwoo keeps staring at you pussy until he sees a bead of your arousal roll down your pussy towards your clit and he is fucking salivating at the sight, like a dog in front of his favourite meal after being starved for days.

He dips his face in your core, making you moan loud when you feel his tongue lick up the drop of slick from your clit and up until he pushes his tongue inside you, humming a moan in you. He is starting to eat you out again like before, fingers rubbing in circles on your clit. He has to stop because you are whining louder and your legs barely hold you up, so he bites a few times into your ass, never getting enough of your meat under his teeth. He lifts himself on his knees and lines himself once again with your entrance. This time he’s less gentle with you, he plunges into you with raw need, thrusting into you with less care and more to chase his release, dragging you along. His hands are gripping on your hips and pulling you against his own, slamming deeper in you.

He’s not holding back, neither his sounds or his movements. You feel all his need in his movements, how desperately clings onto you to ease that knot and finally let go of the tension he has been building ever since you came back home to him. He’s loosing himself in you, his breathing heavier. He lets himself push down on you with his weight, pressing you further in the mattress until he is brushing your nape with his nose and is biting into your shoulders and behind you neck. “You are made for me, ooh fuckfuck fuuuuck, for m-me, only me,” he is saying horny nonsense in your skin, “m-mine, ah haa ah-ah shit,  you are mine, mine, min-e hnng” he groans deep kissing your shoulder blades as he fucks you desperately, hips loosing rhythm gradually, his climax approaching “My girl, my baby, my fucking pretty girl, taking me so so good, fuck baby fuck!”

You are almost unresponsive under him, completely fucked out, until he reaches under you and he finds your overstimulated clit, jolting you back to life. “W-wonwoo, no- nonono wait- please babe no- oh god baby, baby I-I can’t oh god ahnn ah ah W- Won-wo pl-ease” He is loosing his mind when he hears you, “You c-can do it love, one, just one more t-time, cum for me, with me please baby, I need to feel you cum with my cock in you, please baby give it to me, fucking hell yes-” his words make you lose hold of what was left of your composure and consciousness as you feel yourself black out for a second when you finally cum around him. “Yes, yes, yes just like that fuck yes! Oh fucking hell yes-” Wonwoo groans out a guttural moan as keeps fucking into you through your and his orgasm, until you are milking him dry of every drop. He collapses spent on top of you, breathing heavily with his head spinning after what could’ve been one of his most intense orgasms of his life.

He pulls you with him to the side, dick still inside of you. He starts kissing your shoulders and all the hickeys and bite marks he left on your back. “I love you, I love so much.” He admits between kisses. You reach for his nape and stroke him in a tender gesture, still not able to articulate words. He kisses your palm again, like he did in the kitchen, pressing his lips in it and sighing after, almost in a whine. You turn in his arms after he softens enough to slip out of you, and curl unto his embrace as he pulls you tight into him. “I love you too Nonu..so much…” you say with your voice small and sleepy. You manage cups his face and bring him down to you for a soft kiss. He sighs and melts in your tender touch.

You part almost breathless, his eyes are glazed again, unfocused. "You got pretty wild tonight babe," You chuckle under your breath, "what has gotten into you?" You peck his lips again. He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "I don't know, I admit I was feeling needy, you were gone all day, but you breaking my glasses with your thighs was the sexiest thing ever and I just lost it." You groan frustrated, "Oh my god the glasses, those were your favourite pair too!" He chuckles as he kisses your forehead, "I can get a new pair whenever babe. Also, I think I really have a thing for you in the kitchen, I almost got a boner when you were making dinner." "Perv" you laugh swatting his chest. "But can you blame me? Wearing my clothes, dancing and singing like an angel-" "You sing like an angel, I am like a chicken getting strangled!" You laugh. "-Still an angel, looking like a fucking snack. I need to fuck you on the counter next." "Didn't I deserve more than cold marble?" You mock him mentioning his words, and his cheeks grow pink as he grins. "Of course you do baby, but imagine me bending you over the counter," his voice is now whispering in your ear, "your body warm on the marble as I fuck you hard from behind, just as you like it..." his hands are roaming on your body, his dick twitching weakly back to life. "Hmmh temping," you lick his lips leaving as his mouth searches for a kiss, "but if we were to do that now I know that I wouldn't be going to work tomorrow." You say knowing that you are going to be 100% sore after tonight.

He smiles wide and proud, then captures your lips in a wet and open mouthed kiss. "How about you let me eat you out some more, then I'll draw a bath and massage where I was too rough?" He says between kisses. You hum happily, "You are spoiling me Jeon Wonwoo..." "You spoil me everyday by cooking for me and loving me babe, it's the bare minimum that I can do for you." He kisses you again to prevent you from protesting. He makes you cum two more times befor he lets you relieve him with your mouth in the bath.

Wonwoo is bending you on the counter the morning after during breakfast preparations, and you definitely have to call in sick for work.

[couch-potato28]

ROMANTIC MOMENTS CAUGHT BY FANS WITH THE BLLK BOYS! 📸

PT 3.

🎥 synopsis: Your relationship with him is already established but fans still can’t get enough of the two of you—always wanting more crumbs. Accidental meetups, funny moments and romantic scenes that get captured or posted by them online offer the world a chance to witness little glimpses of your dynamic with him.

🎞️ a/n: Lowk Karasu’s part feels a little inaccurate but could just be me, also he’s aged up! Honestly this whole series feels very goofy. Ty for reading tho lmao

🎬 characters: hiori y., karasu t., isagi y., michael k., nanase n. and reo m.

Hiori Yo—viral video

Both of you frequently watched the “Compilation of Hiori Yo being a simp for Y/N for 15 minutes straight” titled video that was edited by a fan of his who took the time to cut together all of your boyfriend’s soft moments caught on camera during his livestreams.

The football player would often stream besides playing on the field, wanting to virtually connect with his fans through the screens while also enjoying his hobby of gaming.

During the long hours of talking online—fans would often ask questions about you that he would happily read out loud before carefully answering every single one of them—sheepishly praising you for simply existing including the act of breathing itself.

His fans swore they saw heart eyes appear whenever you were mentioned, showcasing just how whipped to the core he was.

6.5 million views and a comment from:

@hioyooo_16: got caught in 4K

Karasu Tabito—dirtbag picture

Being an average high schooler, then debuting as a football star at 17, and now playing in a pro league—that was the dream for a lot of kids. Your boyfriend worked hard to get where he is now, and according to everyone who went to school with him, one thing was universally agreed on: Karasu was smart and athletic as hell.

So what happens when one of his diehard fans turns out to be a student from the very same high school he once attended?

Obviously, they start snooping around. And somehow, they manage to dig up an old yearbook from your boyfriend’s graduating class—complete with a few random photos left behind by the football team years ago.

Days later, Karasu’s name was suddenly trending. Thousands of fans were tagging him in a post: a grainy photo uploaded by that same fan.

It was a small polaroid, probably taken with someone’s old digital camera after the school’s football team had won the regional title and gone out to celebrate.

And there it was—your faces squished together, both of you with puckered lips, messy hair, and your boyfriend’s whole face covered in lipstick marks.

The PR team was freaking out. He had a great laugh while saving the pic.

Liked by @crowrasu_tabito and 4.3 million others

Isagi Yoichi—loser in love

He did it. He scored the last goal. His team won.

The fans erupted from the benches. Screams, cries, and sobs filled the stadium as the adrenaline flowed through the air.

You were there. Cheering from the first row, tightly gripping the bar before your eyes met his.

And then, as always, you opened your arms waiting for him.

Isagi sprinted across the field, ignoring his teammates’ shouts only to get to you.

It was perfect.

You two were about to be the highlight of the match again. Fans were already hearing the edits with Taylor Swift’s lyrics.

“Where’s the trophy? He just comes runnin’ over to me~”

Sweat clung to your boyfriend’s forehead, hair resembling a bird’s nest but that sweet smile of his was more radiant than ever…

…until he tripped.

He was almost there. Just a few more meters but after the game his shoelaces must have loosened up a bit, causing him to fall face flat into the grass.

Fans were about to erupt again but they stopped midway. You laughed out loud. He stayed there for a good minute before looking up, flustered and grinning.

Isagi simply proved he was in love again—no matter how much embarrassment he just put himself through national TV.

Michael Kaiser—silent or silenced

Your boyfriend had some unhinged fans—the kind who would literally do anything just to see him in person.

Even if it meant sneaking past security just to catch a glimpse of his blond hair and post-game sweat.

Naturally, they were documenting everything on live.

Thousands were watching. Some laughing. Others just straight-up crying at the absurdity of the situation.

What they didn’t know was that you two were mid-argument.

You, sitting cross-legged on a bench in grey sweats, probably his hoodie thrown on, while he stood in front of you, hands waving wildly in the air like some dramatic soap opera character.

They could barely guess what he was saying before one of the most iconic moments between WAGs happened.

You calmly took a sip from your water bottle, slowly pulling down your sunglasses.

Looked up at him with a death stare. That shut him up for good.

It was a rather simple moment but the fans ate it up, especially after a few seconds of you saying something to him before he immediately grabbed your face and kissed you for what seemed like an eternity.

Safe to say, the next day the media was filled with edits of you and he couldn’t help but drop a like for every single one of them.

Nijiro Nanase—personal experience

Your boyfriend was someone who deeply cherished his fans despite his busy schedules—after all, as he often said, they always greeted him with such sweet smiles so how could he not stop for a minute and talk?

Above all, children cutely waving and waiting for him in the crowds made him the weakest.

One of the most well-known stories about his friendliness was posted by a fan of PXG, sharing how they’ve met Nanase in a restaurant near the stadium he played in just a few hours ago.

Turns out the fan was with his 4-year -old daughter at the time (also big fan btw) who easily recognized him before bravely going up to the player with a toothy grin, asking if he would like to take a picture with her.

They wrote how Nanase’s face immediately lit up at the request, granting her wish as well as giving the child some free candy from his bag.

Melting at the sight, your boyfriend—with permission of course—immediately brought her over to your table to show you his new best friend, squishing her cheeks in the process. You two played with her for a long time before waving the little girl goodbye.

1,9 million likes and reposted by @nanana_jiro

Reo Mikage—caught comments

He loved to compliment you day and night without fail, be it in public or private, Reo would always shower you in sweet words that were truly meant from the bottom of his heart.

Sure, he had his official account for media and fans—but he wasn’t super active on it, only following his teammates and you, making it clear that he was taken.

Yet the fans never really saw him liking your posts or interacting much, leaving them to assume he was just more of a private guy.

That was until someone found his other account with a definitely not suspicious name, and the comments that were left on each of your posts—some containing a bunch of hearts while others simply praised you.

He knew he got exposed when the account suddenly gained a few thousand new followers, and how every single compliment he ever left on your photos were now top comments.

Guess, he needs to think of a new username cause @oreo_milkshake has been exposed.

2,2 million new followers and a new story posted by:

@m_reo: whoever exposed me watch out…im coming for you :)

[kunareads]

brat | track three

club classics

producer!suguru x popstar!reader

prev / next series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 4k

content: drug/alcohol use, angst, emotional distress + kind of spiral, jealousy + insecurity

taglist is closed!

18+ please <3

Billboard — FESTIVAL SET OR CULT INVITATION? CLUB CLASSICS DEBUT PROVES THE BRAT MOVEMENT HAS NO CEILING

Pitchfork — THE CHURCH OF CLUB CLASSICS: GETO AND YN TURN A PERFORMANCE INTO A POP CULTURAL RELIGION

Complex — IN THE ERA OF THE RELATABLE POP STAR, YN AND SUGURU GETO ARE SEALING THEIR LEGACY INSTEAD

LOLLAPALOOZA NIGHT TWO HEADLINER: YN AND SUGURU GETO

vroom vroom / i love it / speed drive / hot in it / 360 / club classics

your breath comes short as you spin into the final chorus of 360. the bass shakes the barricades. your hair sticks to your neck and your feet ache, but it doesn’t matter. nothing does when sixty thousand people are screaming their favorite song back at you in unison.

when you're in the party b-b-bumpin' that beat 666 with a princess streak

they finish it for you. you take the moment to turn toward suguru—lit in strobes and stage smoke at the boards behind you. his hands stay on the mix, but his eyes are locked on you. shining and a little disbelieving.

and for one strange second, you can’t believe it either.

because not too long ago, the two of you were bottom-row filler on this very lineup. you were the set they tolerated while waiting for someone more famous. now it’s your faces on the livestream banner, your names on the wristbands. the two of you burning bright in front of the biggest crowd you’ve ever seen.

it’s so good it scares you a little.

the last loops of the track dissolve into the night as you take your place next to him. “lollapalooza,” you call into the mic, catching your breath as suguru adjusts your mic cord. “still with me?”

the answer is deafening.

the lights drop.

then they strobe white—blinding, baptismal. your smile glints on a dozen screens like a warning shot.

it starts as a pulse and a warped right now vocal.

“alright,” you say, pacing to the end of the catwalk. “if you came to stand around and look pretty—” you grin. “get the fuck out of my pit.”

screams.

“if you came here to dance to us,” you raise your free hand. “make some fucking noise.”

they do. loud enough to startle you. loud enough to rattle the stage. you crouch down, mic to your lips, voice low and threatening against the bass.

when i go to the club, i wanna hear those club classics club classics—club, club classics

by the third repeat, they’re screaming it back like they’ve known it for longer than twenty seconds. you spring into the post-chorus, bouncing loose and electric, your pulse loud in your ears. when you catch suguru’s eye again, he’s mouthing it back to you with a wink:

yeah, i wanna dance to me i wanna dance to SG

you spin back toward the crowd, catching flashes of smeared eyeliner and poppers and arms outstretched. they’d follow you off a cliff right now.

sweat marks all on my clothes, tight like mike kinda flow yeah, i wanna be blinded by the light, lights, lights

a phone appears, shoved toward stage. security hands it up. you grin, flip the camera, and run.

the lights smear in your vision as you bolt. your heels almost betray you when you toss yourself into his space, but suguru catches you easily, one arm wrapping around your waist to steady you with a laugh. the video catches both of you beaming into the lens with the knowledge that the world is turning exactly how you asked it to tonight.

he builds the bridge. you pass the phone back without looking, hips still moving, one hand up high.

put your hands up and dance yeah, i’m gonna dance all night, that’s right

and they obey. ten thousand hands. then thirty thousand. then all of them reaching, dancing, worshipping.

the outro detonates—bass pulsing, strobes slicing, bodies surging like tide. and center stage, shoulder to shoulder, you and suguru shine like myth.

the sound cuts. the lights drop. your heart keeps sprinting.

in the dark, suguru kisses the top of your head in benediction. and you believe it. that the two of you were born for this. that every eye on you is a prayer you deserve.

@/ynsdaughter: “i wanna dance to SG” i don’t care if it’s fake i need them to get married like yesterday

@/angelbrat: huge day for bisexuals and music historians everywhere

@/suguruscream: suguru always so serious on stage until she gets close. then it’s just ☺️❤️‍🔥

backstage is chaos.

a manager shoves a water bottle into your hands. production assistants bark about press. security yells about routes and crowd control. stagehands blur past in neon lanyards with too much urgency.

but all you see is suguru.

backlit by the stage, hair plastered to his temples, chest rising fast under a sweat-soaked t-shirt. and he’s smiling. just for you, like he knows everything’s changed.

you don’t realize you’re laughing until he pulls you in—arms tight around your waist, lifting and spinning you once.

“i told you,” he murmurs against your ear. “you fucking killed that.”

you’re still giggling when he kisses you. quick and dizzy, one hand cupping your jaw. your makeup’s a mess and his hair’s undone. but the world feels perfect in that distorted, glittery way.

everything moves in fragments around you. voices come from too many directions, hands pulling you in and out of outfits you don’t remember picking, your face wiped and redone with practiced hands. and then, just as suddenly, it’s quiet.

the car feels like a haven. cool and comfortable, sealed from the noise outside. city lights strobe past tinted windows in slow motion. your legs drape over suguru’s, his fingers tracing light lines on your thigh. neither of you say much. just the occasional whisper, the occasional kiss.

you can still hear it—i wanna dance to me, me, me, me, me. he looks at you like he doesn’t want it to end.

and you don’t wonder if he’s distracted.

you don’t ask what was bothering him on his phone all morning after that night with satoru. or if it even mattered.

you don’t think about it—because this is easier. his undivided attention feels like resolution. like you were right to let it go.

the car slows to a stop. outside, the afterparty’s already a circus—paparazzi this time, not fans. velvet rope, flashbulbs, a security perimeter.

you blink back into the present as suguru leans in, pressing one last kiss to your temple.

“ready?”

you nod. smile. take his hand when he offers it.

flashes go off the second your heel hits pavement. someone shouts your name. someone else yells his. suguru doesn’t let go of you.

the room changes when you walk in together.

or maybe it doesn’t. maybe it was always tilted toward you, eyes snapping to where you entered and refusing to look away.

you’re the last ones on the list to arrive. everyone that matters is already here.

a couple of execs nod from a booth. someone starts a wave of applause. a drink is pressed into your hand—“fucking unbelievable,” someone says. **you don’t know who, and it doesn’t matter. people keep coming—hugging you, whispering praise, passing joints. you let it wash over you. revel in the feeling of being known and wanted.

the high has softened, gone warm and syrupy. everything feels elastic. expansive. your body’s still catching up to the size of your name.

somewhere in the back of your mind, something claws at the edges—soft and stupid and scared. but you smile wider. drown it in praise.

suguru stays close.

his hand rests low on your back, thumb dragging over exposed skin. you glance at him over your shoulder and catch the look in his eyes. it’s not professional. a little admiring, but mostly hungry.

he leans down, lips barely brushing your ear. “everyone loves you,” he says. “gonna tell them who you belong to?”

you turn around fully to meet his gaze, lashes heavy, smile dangerous. “you want me to make a scene?”

he laughs, low and sharp. he doesn’t care if you’re bluffing. he wants you to try.

“come.”

he doesn’t wait for an answer—just takes the drink from your hand, sets it down without looking, and tugs you by the wrist into the center of the room.

the music thickens as you follow—slow, syrupy, slipping into something obscene. he spins you into him, your chest brushing his as you fall into sync. his fingers drag down your spine, the other hand settling at your lower back, guiding you like he has a hundred times in his head.

you show off a little. hips fluid, eyes teasing, smile pure. you sway close enough to breathe each other in. close enough for him to feel you. close enough that it’s obvious to everyone watching.

he just studies you at first—your jaw, your lips, the slick line of your collarbone. you get the sense that he’d drop to his knees right now if you asked nicely.

then he leans in, voice rough. “you don’t know the kind of thoughts you put in people’s heads,” he says. “in mine.”

and maybe you don’t. but you can feel it in the way his hands flex. in the way the room spins around you and not the other way around.

you laugh, lazy and lethal, drunk on the way he watches you. then you twist in his hold, press your back to his chest. his arms lock around your waist. he inhales at your neck, mouths at your jaw like he wants it branded. doesn’t care who sees. someone snaps a picture on film. someone else whistles.

it takes a few songs before you both drift off the floor—laughing and tangled in each other. your section is tucked in the far corner of the lounge. it smells like weed and expensive upholstery and bottle service tucked into ice. a bouncer lifts a velvet rope to let you in.

suguru drops into a low couch, gaze climbing your legs in a habit he hasn’t even tried to break. as far as he’s concerned, you’ve always belonged in his lap.

he offers a hand.

you take it. step between his knees and let him guide you down until your weight sinks onto him, legs draped across one of his. he exhales immediately, relieved and possessive.

his hands find your waist first. then your thigh. then the bare stretch at your ribs. each touch is slow, sunk, claiming.

you loop your arms around his neck. feel the sweat at his hairline, the chain at his throat. he’s warm—in his lap, his chest, the fingers dragging up your leg with a pace that’s not quite innocent. you kiss the corner of his jaw, grinning when he turns into it automatically.

“i should take you home,” he murmurs, voice thick with reverence. “take this dress off you. thank you for tonight.”

you laugh, light and breathy and buzzed. wanted. chosen. undisputed. “are you asking?”

his grip tightens. he presses a kiss below your ear.

“i’m telling you,” he says. “let’s leave.”

thank god, you think. the yes is already forming on your lips. but before you can say it, a voice cuts in, too loud and too close.

“sorry,” someone says. “i hate to interrupt—fuck, you guys were unreal.”

you blink up, disoriented by how quickly the moment unspools. a label rep—important enough to recognize, intrusive enough to resent.

“i just—can i steal you for two seconds? a couple people want to talk VMAs. logistics stuff. you’re the only person who can actually speak to it—”

suguru’s head drops to your shoulder with a low groan. you kiss his temple before sliding off his lap. he catches your hand before you go.

“go do your thing,” he says, lifting your fingers to his lips. he presses a slow kiss there, a little smug. “i’ll be right here.”

@/cultyn (story) 📸 : wide shot of the audience from stage 💬 : you had to be there

@/cultgeto (story) 📸 : black and white photo of reader twirling at the afterparty 💬 : i wanna dance to me 💿

the MTV reps are all smiles and champagne, talking lighting setups and impact and career-defining moments. someone calls you visionary. you lead the conversation and it feels easy. the kind of thing that would’ve paralyzed you three years ago but now feels like momentum. you could do this all night.

but you don’t really want to.

you want to go back to him.

it’s all humming inside you now—the things you used to dream about. the performance. the power. the boy. your set still rings in your teeth and the heat of his hands still aches in your thighs. your body’s drunk on it. your mind, too.

you round the corner. everything tastes like sugar. someone calls your name. someone else reaches for a hug. you smile, brush shoulders, keep moving. you’re thinking about his lap. the way he said let’s leave. his hands on you.

you expect to find that lazy grin as you near your section. the sprawl. the suguru-specific pull he doesn’t seem to notice.

but what you see first isn’t him.

it’s her.

sugar-pink nails on suguru’s tattooed arm. a giggle too bright for the hour. mila hart—pastel and perfect and glowing like a bad omen. laughing at something he said and easing into his space like she belongs here.

and she doesn’t.

you saw the guest list three days ago—she wasn’t on it. this velvet-roped, bottle-service corner of the lounge isn’t for surprise guests*.* no one’s here by accident.

at this hour, in this fucking room? that kind of access has a signature.

your eyes move back to suguru and your mouth goes dry. her hand drifts to his chest. she’s standing too close. she’s breathing the air you were in less than ten minutes ago. the air that belongs to you.

the music feels weird suddenly—dissonant and too sharp at the edges. your fingers buzz, and the base of your neck aches. you recognize it—you’re coming down too fast. you missed the cue to slow it down.

and suguru—

he doesn’t look caught. doesn’t lean away. doesn’t seem to notice at all. just stands there, drink in hand, smiling like he’s immune to consequence.

maybe he is.

because this is what power looks like, isn’t it? the casual kind. the kind that lets things slide because it can fix the mess later.

you recognize it. you have it too.

maybe he’s done this before. maybe he wants her there.

or he hasn’t noticed. he’s too polite to move her hand. he’s caught mid-conversation.

none of it holds.

because the cruelty isn’t mila’s hand or her dress or even the way she looks at him like she won something. the cruelty is the sudden, yawning absence of what you thought was clarity.

your brain starts slotting the night together again. the way he looked at you like he’d bring the stars down if you wanted them. i should take you home. the kiss to your hand. i’ll be right here.

and now this.

now her.

and still, you enter.

you thank the bouncer for lifting the rope. your smile slips back into place like nothing at all just broke in your chest.

suguru doesn’t see you at first, too focused on the story he’s telling to someone else in the circle. one hand loose at his side, his drink in the other. that easy grin. that relaxed, commanding posture.

you’re surrounded before you can think harder—girls you’ve danced with, recorded beside, shared stylists and secrets and cigarettes with. one lifts your hand like a trophy, another kissing your cheek.

there’s a flash of recognition, of celebration, the room itself seeming to brighten just because you entered.

you fucking murdered that set. you’re unreal. i think hot in it is my new favorite—

you laugh. thank them. tilt your head just right for instagram stories you’ll end up reposting. someone hands you a drink. someone else plays a shaky clip of the crowd screaming, and you pretend to be surprised like you didn’t watch it happen from the stage.

somewhere in the excitement, it hits: you weren’t high on triumph.

it was him.

the warmth you’ve been riding all night? it was his hand on your waist. his voice in your ear. the way he looked at you.

you glance behind you instinctively.

he’s already watching. not cold. not distant. that same familiar softness—sure and centered. he smiles, and it feels like a lie he doesn’t know he’s telling.

and it might have helped—might have grounded you—if mila hadn’t brushed imaginary lint off his shoulder in the exact same moment. casual and intimate, like it’s her place to do that.

he doesn’t look at her. doesn’t notice, because his eyes are on you. and it hurts anyway. because you know you’re not making it up.

the girls pull you for one last round of photos. digital cameras flash, drinks clink, someone calls your name for a video that ends up blurry and chaotic. and when the moment finally starts to dissolve—when the conversation shifts to the next thing—you turn back toward the couch.

you see her leaving.

mila blows a kiss to someone—maybe no one in particular. says goodbye like this was her space all along. suguru gives her a half-hearted wave, doesn’t pause his conversation. she vanishes just as easily as she arrived. like she was never really here.

like you imagined the whole thing.

you want to feel better about it. you really do.

but you don’t.

you lower yourself into the seat, fingers closing around the chilled neck of a bottle before you’ve even settled. you pour a shot of something clear, movements measured, like control can be reclaimed in ounces.

and then he’s there.

no delay, no hesitation. as if he’d just been waiting for you to finish your conversations so he could take his place beside you.

he sinks down, knees brushing yours, and reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear with careful fingers.

“missed you,” he says softly.

you tip the shot back. “wasn’t gone that long.”

he doesn’t respond. just watches you for a second too long, his thumb grazing gently against your cheek like he’s realigning both of you. like it matters to him that you’re still with him, still here.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

and that’s the pattern, isn’t it? both of you knowing, never naming.

he takes the empty glass from your hand and sets it down for you before shifting closer. his mouth tilts—not quite a smirk. something gentler. almost shy, if he were capable of that.

you feel him waiting for the moment to settle.

so you let it. you lean in.

you want to feel the ease. you want the consistency of him, the way he always finds you in the noise.

he tucks your knee over his and rests his hand there, thumb pressing into the soft part of your thigh. you settle into the warmth of him. his cologne, the rise and fall of his chest. close enough to convince yourself that maybe this is still the version of the night that made sense.

for a second, it works.

he murmurs something into your hair. a private thing. low and fond, and probably dumb. you don’t catch all the words, just the stupid softness that makes you want to kiss him despite everything.

you’re already turning your head to ask him to repeat it when his phone lights up on the table.

mila you looked good tonight. thanks again for the invite. wish i stayed <3

your stomach turns. not violently, just enough to make your spine go rigid.

he doesn’t see it. he’s too close to catch the screen, his undivided attention back on you. right where you’d wanted it a few minutes ago.

you stand slowly.

“be right back,” you murmur.

his brows draw in slightly. “you okay?”

you nod too fast. “mhm.”

and you go.

you don’t rush, but you don’t look back either. you smooth your dress as you walk, smile ready to spring back into place if anyone looks too close. the hallway’s freezing. or maybe it’s just the warmth bleeding out of you.

the bathroom is white tile and fluorescent light. too bright, too clean. you lock the door behind you and sit on the toilet lid, hands slack in your lap.

your skin still sparkles, but nothing’s glowing anymore. nothing’s buzzing. just your pulse retreating inward, slow and strange.

you don’t know mila personally, but you know enough. she’s what they mean by relatable. sweet and soft and easy to root for. the version everyone’s supposed to want.

including suguru. that’s why it feels like a glitch.

you were never the traditional pop girl. you’ve always known that. you never even wanted to be.

but tonight, you’d give anything to feel like someone he could explain. someone with a PR-approved personality and soft edges.

through the door, you hear it—your own voice, muffled but unmistakable.

when you’re in the mirror, do you like what you see? when you’re in the mirror, you’re just looking at me

you don’t laugh. you don’t cry. you don’t even blink.

you just sit there, perfectly still, trying to feel like the girl who meant it.

but eventually you stand. you reapply your lipgloss. fix your hair. you come back like nothing happened.

suguru lights up the moment he sees you again. you’re not sure what to make of it, but you let him touch you. hands to your waist and lips to your temple. it feels almost too easy now. and you hate that it works. that you want to let him fix it. that you’re not sure what you’d do if he didn’t.

the section’s more full than you left it—more label people, more phones, too many hands. someone clinks a glass.

“a toast to the stars of this festival. tonight changed everything,” they say. it sounds suspiciously like a warning. “that was a fucking performance.”

a cheer goes up. someone offers you another drink. you wave it off. someone else taps their phone to yours for the picture.

suguru leans closer, chin brushing your shoulder. “you were perfect,” he says.

you smile again. and mean it, kind of.

but you’re not fully here.

your mind is still hovering somewhere before the text, the pastel, the interruption by the overeager label rep.

you think about the way he looked at you earlier—how it felt like the only girl in the world. and how maybe he’s just good at that. maybe it’s not sacred, and it never was. maybe mila’s seen that look too.

the toast fades. conversations resume. you turn into his side.

“can we go?”

it comes out smaller than you meant. like a white flag.

he studies your face a second too long.

then nods. “yeah.”

you nod too.

and the worst part is—you’re not even sure he did anything wrong.

just that you feel stupid for thinking any of it meant something.

for needing it to.

@/deuxmoi BLIND ITEM: pastel princess spotted getting very cozy with a certain dark-haired hit maker at a lollapalooza afterparty. insiders say she wasn’t on the guest list.