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everlastingserenitys · 2 months ago

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SMILE FOR THE PICTURE <3

summ. you asked the best photographer in your school to help take pictures of you for your project, not take a video of you guys doing it!

pairing. Caleb x f!reader cw. nerd!caleb, p in v, fingering, masturbation, recording during sex, creampie, dirty thoughts, kissing, handjob, college au, petnames, dirty talk, kitchen sex, 3.7k wc (wtf omg) a/n. hello yes this is kiindaa based off this post ... I just added a tiny switch up hehe

“Is that all you need help with?” Caleb asked, his eyes darting around the library and back at you.

“Please Caleb?”

A tired sigh escaped his lips, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in disbelief, “So what you’re saying is that you want me to take pictures of you for your project?”

You nod.

“I don’t believe it, why do you need me?”

An annoyed sigh escaped your lips and you leaned in closer, being just centimeters away from his face.

“I heard you’re the best photographer and editor, so I need someone to help me so I can pass the class… so, please, just help me this one time?”

Caleb lightly rolled his eyes and stared at you before agreeing, “fine I’ll do it—but I’ll need something in return.”

“I’ll give you anything, Alright? I’ll email you some of my photos and then we can move on from there.” You say, sliding over a scrap piece of paper with your email displayed on it and walked off.

You didn’t even let him speak the second you skipped away from him and headed over to your little friends, giggling and loudly walking yourself out the library, practically announcing to everyone that you’re leaving.

Caleb glared at your figure already leaving the library and sighed against his seat, at least he’ll have something to do for the night.

As the day progressed Caleb was already in his dorm, studying for his other subjects. It was late in the evening and he had totally forgotten about the little deal you made with him, until he heard a crackle sound beneath him.

An exasperated sigh left his lips and he reached in his pocket for the tiny piece of paper with your email on it, he rested it in front of him as his fingers instinctively started typing away on his laptop.

Without realizing or reading over what he had written, the email had already been sent to you. Caleb panicked and tried to find out how to edit, or even delete to send it again, but when nothing was popping up he closed his laptop and attempted to distract himself before you responded.

A few minutes passed and a ding blared through Caleb's laptop. A shaky sigh escaped his lips before he carefully opened up his laptop and checked his emails. He refreshed countless times until, finally your response loaded up.

Caleb read the reply out loud and hovered his cursor over the pdf files of multiple photos you sent, “‘hey these are the photos’, yada yada…mmh alright.” After a second of hesitating he finally brought the courage to click on the photos.

And they were…beautiful.

Caleb was starstruck. He scrolled through the five photos you sent and inspected every single one, eyeing every perfect curve, your pretty eyes, practically just admiring you.

He never really talked to you, mainly because he thought you wouldn't talk to him if he tried talking to you first, but when you stepped up and spoke to him first, Caleb felt like it had to be a prank. Whether it was for the project or not, he didn't mind it, in fact, he’d probably want to work with you again, if he could.

He exited out of the pictures, getting ready to write his reply when he noticed you sent something else. Only captioning the file with ‘and a little surprise for you <3 you look like you’d be into this so i hope this gives you a little motivation !!’

Curious, Caleb clicked on the file without thinking and immediately regretted it. Well, was it regret? Definitely not. Caleb’s perverted eyes scanned at every part of the scandalous photo you sent. He brought his shaky hands to his mouse and instinctively started zooming in on every part.

“Damn it.” he murmured, squirming around his chair as he tried to hold himself back from touching himself, even though the last time he actually masturbated to someone was years before his third year in college, he didn't want to just break the streak when he knows damn well you will leave him once this project was over.

But one time wouldn't hurt, right? I mean, he was practically aching down there.

Caleb brought his fingers to the waistband of his shorts and played with it as he imagined different dirty scenarios with you. He eventually slid his fingers under his shorts, grabbing onto his hard, searing length, wrapping his cold fingers around it. He pumped his fist in a quick motion, staring at your picture through his already teary eyes, captivating every pixel he could see through his blurry vision.

“Ah-shit..” he whined, bucking his hips forward and soon brought his other hand to his cock, pretending it was yours. That thought just turned him on even more and he was practically trying everything to hold himself back from coming too early.

He glanced back at the picture, his glasses were slightly slipping off his nose but he didnt care. He yanked his head back, his pace going even quicker on himself and he was so, soo, clo–

“Fuck..”

Spurs of white pellucid mixture dripped out of Caleb, most of it getting on his desk and papers all over the desk. He breathed heavily as his violet eyes stared into in the ceiling, rethinking his fucking choices.

A few minutes passed and Caleb took a cold shower and eventually cleaned up himself, and the desk. He sat back on desk, reopening his laptop and quickly went to reply to your email. God, he was worried how he was going to face you the next day.

His fingers hovered over the light keys illuminating through his laptop, a response was stuck somewhere in the back of his head but he couldn't bring it back to him. He pondered for a moment, his mind spiraling with many, many thoughts, none of them were recollecting what he was going to say.

Caleb let out an annoyed groan and hit his head on his desk repeatedly. He’ll just respond tomorrow, when his mind was cleared out.

The next day after his classes were over, Caleb headed to the library to study for a bit. He put his ear buds in and started reading his book. But as he was too distracted by the gibberish of numbers and letters that somehow keeps him captivated the whole time he's studying, he didn't notice a presence in front of him.

A minute passed, and he still didn't notice. That was until someone yanked his earbuds off which caused Caleb to flinch dramatically. He looked up to see who disturbed his peace, about to stand up for himself until he realized it was you.

“What..”

“Why’d you not respond last night?”

Caleb's face flushed in a light pink tone, but he remained calm, a small smirk rested on his lips as he was trying to think of an excuse on the spot. He couldn't just tell you that he got off at the seductive picture you totally sent to rile him up with.

“I was too tired to, sorry. But I saw everything you sent.”

“You did?” you grin, leaning in closer as you stared into his eyes.

“Mhm, everything.”

“Did you like the surprise picture?” you said, a hint of teasing laced in your voice as you watched for Caleb's reaction. He was trying to act tough so badly, but you noticed how difficult it was for him to keep up the tough act and that just made you want to push his limits even further.

“Caleb?” you whisper.

Caleb’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down the second you whispered his name and he avoided your gaze, “..yeah.” he mumbled, his voice dropping five octaves deeper. You smile and pull away from him, looking down at him before shrugging.

“If you read the email–which I doubt you did–I told you to come over to my place tonight to take some practice pictures.”

“Practice? Wait, when did you even say that?” Caleb frantically started typing on his computer and pulled out the email. Embarrassment washed through his whole face when he read the first email which he totally ignored.

“I see…”

“Uh huh, the pictures I sent you last night were for reference, you know? How you’re going to take them and etcetera.” you fan your hands at him and Caleb stared at you for a good minute before nodding and closing his laptop, notebook, everything lying on the desk.

“Why’re you packing up right now?”

“Well? Why don’t we start early? I have studying to do and I don't want to spend the whole night taking pictures of you.”

You open your mouth, hesitant to say something but when no words could get out, you zipped your lips shut and turned around, walking yourself out of the library. You took small glances to see if Caleb was actually following you, when you noticed he was just a few meters away, you nodded to yourself and continued to walk to your place.

A ten minute walk later both you and Caleb end up at the front door of your apartment. You grab the keys from your purse and turn around, looking at Caleb while the key is shoved deep in the keyhole.

“Wait here, and do you have your camera?”

Caleb nods and rests his shoulder against the wall next to him. You nod and head inside your place. Caleb assumed you were cleaning it up so he leaned back and patiently waited as the sounds of shuffling and stuff moving around were getting louder and louder by the second.

A few minutes pass and you open the door letting Caleb in. Caleb looked around your whole place, his eyes darting on every piece of furniture that was definitely your style, and soon averting his gaze to the large window that showed off the view from outside.

It was already close to sunset and the lighting looked amazing to take pictures with. Caleb brought out his camera and tried turning it on when his worst nightmare happened.

“Dead?”

“Dead.”

A minute of silence echoed through the room, you and Caleb looked at each other before awkwardly chuckling at each other.

“I have a charger, be right back.” you say.

Caleb nodded and sat against your kitchen counter, fidgeting the camera around his fingers before you came back and slid the charger to him. He nodded in appreciation and quickly went to put his camera to charge.

“What should we do now?” Caleb asked, glancing at you then back at his camera.

You ponder for a moment then an idea lights up in your head, “Come, i’ll show you more of my photos so you can get an idea on what to do.” you unwillingly grab onto Caleb's wrist and drag him to your bedroom.

Which looked fairly normal, a little basic. Just a desk consisting of two monitors lying on it, a bookshelf, and your bed. You drag Caleb to your desk and you plop on the chair, unlocking your monitor in a quick movement and pulling out your camera roll.

“Some pictures may be weird so don't mind it, okay?”

Caleb nodded and glued his eyes to your monitor.

As the time went on and you were showing dozens upon dozens of photos to him, that's when your camera roll started to look a little too explicit and Caleb swore you were doing it on purpose.

“Oh whoops!” you giggle, letting Caleb quickly look at the explicit pictures of you, and at this point he wasn’t complaining. He wasn’t going to show that he liked it, but something else was about to shatter him from this nonchalant persona.

He watched you scroll through the pictures as his bottom half felt numb. Caleb looked at the bottom of the camera roll and noticed you were almost at the end of it, just a few more pictures to go and he could go to the bathroom to fix the problem down there.

When you finally showed the last picture Caleb nodded and enthusiastically told you how he knew exactly what he was doing and started backing away from your desk. You raise an eyebrow and get up from your seat walking behind him.

“Where's the bathroom?” Caleb asked, looking left and right at the two different hallways that could lead to anywhere. You peered your head up and brushed past him, but mistakenly stumbled over his shoelace and grabbed onto his thigh to catch yourself.

“Cal–uh..”

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Caleb's flushed look and down to your hand which was not on his thigh.

“Don’t move, please…” he mumbled, covering half his face with his hand as he carefully stepped back, but he was too much in a haze to even focus. He tripped on himself and stumbled against you again, making your hand practically rub on his boner.

“Shit…”

“You said you wanted something in return, why don’t I give you the favor right now and then you could take my pictures, how’s that?” you say, looking up at caleb who was still flushed bright red at the situation happening at the moment.

“I- fine..” he nodded and you smiled, sliding your fingers under his pants, slowly pulling them down and stare at his leaking bulge imprinting his boxers. Eventually, you pull his boxers down and let his cock spring out and, Fuck.

You wrap your fingers around his length and pump your fist in a slow, rhythmic movement, letting Caleb savour the time. Loud whines filled the room and you continued the same pace as you watched his reaction.

“Mo–ngh”

“Hmm?”

“More..” he breathed, Caleb's fingers slid in your hair and he pulled your head up so you could look at him. “Please.”

You smirk and fasten the pace on him, after one hand starts getting tired, you bring your other one and do the same movements to his cock. Both your hands were on his hard, sticky length. With one hand circling around the tip and the other pumping his full length Caleb was practically moaning like a virgin.

You slick your thumb on his tip and leaned in closer, about to make your mouth get put to use but Caleb stopped you and shook his head, “not yet..,‘m close” he groaned, his voice echoed through the room which sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re close? Then why don’t you hold it in.” you challenge, pulling your hands away from his cock and staring up at caleb who looked like he was going to die without the feeling of your hands on his.

“Hold it in, can you do that?” you whisper, getting up from your knees and leaned in closer, your hot breath ghosted against Caleb's skin. But Caleb couldnt even spit out any words, his eyes flicker on yours and before you could tease him further he crashed his lips on yours.

Caught off guard, you reciprocate the kiss and push him further against the wall, grabbing onto the sides of his face as you push yourself closer against him. Your bodies were practically molded together and Caleb lightly bit on your lip when he felt you grinding yourself against him.

His fingers made their way to your waist and soon snaked down to your pants, toying with the edges of it before pulling them down. His fingers slid lower on your body and soon reached your soaking, dripping cunt.

He slid a finger inside you and stroked a slow, deliberate pattern, stimulating and stretching you out before he put his cock inside you. He was holding himself back so bad but he lets the last drops of self control drip down him before he rams his cock inside you.

“Let me…” Caleb whispered, pulling his fingers out of you and stared at the mess coated on his fingers. You grunt and press yourself against him, he takes it as an indication that he can put himself inside you and without thinking he does it right away.

“urgh w-wait–” before you could tell Caleb to go to your bed or another room he lifted you up and pressed his tip against your soaking entrance, slowly pushing himself inside. He wasn't even a quarter in and you felt like you were full, you cling onto him as he lifts your body up and down on his cock.

“K-kitchen” you moan, burying your head on his shoulder. Caleb nods and effortlessly walks towards the kitchen with half his length inside you. You felt him press you against the counter and slightly pull himself away so he could see your face.

Caleb stared at you with love and lust filled in his eyes, his glasses were barely on him, his eyes were teary, and fuck he still looked like a beauty. You yanked your head back when you felt him sink deeper inside you, his tip practically hitting every right spot, and you felt like you were in heaven.

You wink your eyes open and get used to your surroundings again and notice the camera was still charging next to you. Caleb watched your every move as you picked up the camera and flicked it on. It beeped for a moment and flashed unlocked.

When the camera was on you smiled and glanced at Caleb who was too much in a daze to know what you were doing and angle the camera directly at his beautiful face. You coo his name and he averted his gaze to the camera that was in your hands.

“Smile.” you manage to get out and notice Caleb smirk before you flash a picture. Your eyes widened as you clicked the picture and he looked heavenly. Caleb chuckled as he continued to ram himself in and out of you, using one of his hands to grab the camera.

“Let me see.” he murmured, resting his fingers on yours which were still on the camera. You carefully gave him the camera and he examined the photo, a menacing chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head, “don’t I look great?” he chuckled.

“Mhm”

“Yeah?”

You nod again and Caleb angled the camera to you, his hands, which were once shaky weren't shaky anymore and he looked at you before looking back into the camera screen.

“Smile for the picture.”

Before you could let out a smile you felt Caleb shove his full length deep, deep inside you. A wave of shock went through you and you heard the camera shutter when you noticed he took a picture of an expression you made that was most definitely not a smile.

“That’s a good–mmph e-expression! Shit, do it again.” he whined, continuing to ram himself deep inside you, the impact of his hard tip abusing your cervix sent you to a spiral, you stared at Caleb through teary eyes and shook your head.

“Come on, baby.” he begged, still having the camera aimed at you. A loud moan escapes your lips and you roll your hips against Caleb’s. Caleb let out a low whistle and lowered the camera to the view of his cock buried balls deep inside you.

“Look at t-that..” he chuckled, slowing the pace down. He was already close to release and he didn't want to pull away. Caleb kept the camera at the same angle it was at before and brought his other hand to your stretched out cunt, placing his thumb against the clit as he stretched it out and watched the mess pool out of you.

“You’re recording? A-and you-?!” you couldn't even get any more words out. Caleb nodded and apologized repeatedly.

“I'm sorry.. It was on a-accident” he coughed, shaking the camera around as he slowly started pulling himself out of you. The sounds of the slick seeping out of you filled the room and it just turned Caleb on even more, when he was just almost the tip out of you, Caleb angled the camera from your lower half to your face and thrusted himself back into you.

His pace was quick and his moans grew louder at every thrust he gave. Caleb was practically over the moon and the feeling was just something he wished to experience again. Caleb placed the camera down on the counter and aimed it where you both were in frame.

“Can you handle one more–y-yes? Or no?” he asked, leaning in closer to your face, his breath tickling on your warm skin, you nod and Caleb chuckled, lifting your legs over his shoulders and thrusted himself one more time.

“That's good, might as well go until the camera dies again, should we, baby?”

You didn't know how many rounds you both did, you were almost going to pass out midway through sex but Caleb somehow calmed you down and you stayed awake, didn’t pass out once no matter how many times he filled you up, it was like he was magic.

Both you and Caleb just finished getting cleaned up and you both were back at the kitchen. He held onto his camera as he went through the multiple photos and videos he took, the longest video being about an hour and a half long, which resulted in the camera dying just the second before you were going to cum.

Caleb smirked as he looked through the photos and one photo caught him by surprise, he inspected the photo and flipped the camera towards you. “You look good in this.” he said, as a death piercing gaze was locked on you.

“I’m practically clothless in that, what's so special about it?”

“You can keep it for your album of those types of photos…” he shrugged, turning the camera back towards him and looking at the photo again. You shrug and that's when you realized.

“We haven't taken my practice pictures yet!”

“Well, can you still do it, or should I come back tomorrow?” Caleb grinned, stepping towards you and stared into your eyes with a teasing look.

“Let's get it over with, today.”

Caleb frowned, “Okay one second,” He said, angling the camera at you again.

“Smile.”

part 2 of fly into your heart -> next work

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #caleb x reader #caleb smut #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #caleb #xia yizhou #caleb lads #xia yizhou smut #caleb fluff #lads smut #lads x reader #caleb x you #lnds caleb

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rosemaryhoney27 · 2 months ago

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“Ghosts, Greens, and Gotham Gays”

aka: Danny Becomes Harley and Ivy’s New Favorite, Vlad Loses More Hair

Vlad was begging Bruce at this point. Begging.

“Keep him inside for one day, Brucie. Please. For my heart. For my blood pressure. For Gotham’s structural integrity.”

Bruce just took a sip of his black coffee and said, “He’s helping Ivy. It’s fine.”

Vlad gaped. “Helping—Ivy?!”

“Mmhm. Something about cross-referencing chlorokinetic frequencies with ecto-resonance.”

“That’s NOT A SENTENCE A CHILD SHOULD SAY—”

Bruce: “He asked first.”

Meanwhile – Ivy’s Greenhouse (Technically a Crime Lair)

Pamela Isley stood with arms crossed, watching as Danny held a softly glowing green hand over a wilting rose hybrid.

He hummed.

The flower perked up.

The surrounding vines quivered, then bloomed in synchronized delight.

“…He’s not Photosynthesizing,” Ivy whispered.

Harley peeked out from the couch, where she was doing her nails and sipping a neon slushie. “He’s ghost-synthesizing! Told ya!”

Danny looked up and smiled. “It’s like ghost CPR. I’m not a botanist, but I can nudge their ambient soul energy.”

“…Plants don’t have souls,” Ivy said, a bit flat.

Danny patted the vine beside him. It curled around his wrist like a cat and purred.

“…I stand corrected.”

Chaos, But Make It Helpful

Harley was already calling him “Spooky Nibbles” by hour two. (“'Cause ya nibble on chaos, kiddo!”)

Danny, somehow, was:

Helping Ivy revive a nearly extinct bioluminescent flower.

Fixing Harley’s blender with ghost tech so it never jammed again.

Casually mentioning he once made a haunted terrarium that ate cheaters in lab.

“I like this one,” Ivy said, very seriously. “Can we keep him?”

Harley nodded. “He’s got Big Gremlin Energy. Like me but with glowy hands.”

Danny beamed. “Thanks! Uncle Vlad says I’m a walking supernatural violation.”

Pam looked at Vlad, who had finally shown up and was hovering at the doorway like a stressed Victorian governess.

“You never said your godson was delightful,” she said.

“He’s not!” Vlad hissed. “He’s a menace with manners!”

Harley leaned over and whispered to Ivy, “He’s got good ankles too. Vlad’s lucky I’m married.”

Ivy: “So is Vlad.”

Later That Day: A Totally Normal, Casual Ghost Plant Uprising

The rogue CEO of GreenerCorp—an evil pharmaceutical company known for shady testing—arrived to “reclaim his investment” and “teach Isley a lesson.”

Danny stared at him across Ivy’s garden.

CEO Guy: “You’re just a kid. I’m not scared of you.”

Danny: “Oh. That’s okay.”

He raised a hand.

The temperature dropped.

The soil glowed.

Plants started whispering in languages no one understood. A massive vine rose behind Danny, pulsing with ghostly energy. The CEO tripped backward into his own security guard.

Danny took a step forward and said, very politely:

“You should leave before the ghost roses start asking questions.”

The CEO screamed. Ivy gave him a sticker that said “You Messed With The Wrong Garden.” Harley filmed the whole thing and posted it with the caption: “Our spooky nephew made a man pee himself 💚🖤🌿👻”

Later – Back at the Manor

Bruce watched the footage. Vlad was face-down on the couch, groaning into a throw pillow. Tim had already turned the video into a meme. Damian was inspecting one of the ghost plants Danny brought back. “Can I keep it?” Cass nodded. “It likes you.” Jason: “He’s now officially in the Ivy-Harley inner circle. That’s better than the damn Mayor.”

Danny poked his head in from the kitchen, covered in potting soil and ghost glitter.

“I made ecto-compost cookies! They’re great for photosynthesis and graveyard shifts.”

Vlad: screaming internally again

Bruce patted Vlad’s back. “He’s doing well.”

“He joined a villain gardening cult.”

“They like him.”

“EVERYONE LIKES HIM.”

“Maybe you should try it.”

Vlad made a sound like a dying Roomba and walked straight into the wall.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #danny phantom #vlad plasmius #batman #vlad is tired #harley quinn #poison ivy #danny fenton is a little shit

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hoshifighting · 7 months ago

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what kind of nudes they would send you? 👉🏻👈🏻

WARNINGS: smut, mentions of penis anatomy, male body anatomy.

seungcheol: one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, holding it up right so you can see the huge length. phone propped low to catch his abs, chest, and a big delicious smile.

jeonghan: lying down, hand lazily holding his half-hard cock against his stomach, shadows doing all the work. “this good enough for you, babe?”

joshua: sheets slightly covering his cock, one hand slipping underneath like he’s just teasing himself. bonus: his pouty lips in the shot like he’s waiting for your permission to touch.

junhui: standing in front of a mirror, completely naked, flexing a little, with his dick hanging low. he’d throw in a wink too.

hoshi: a pic of his cock leaking, hand gripping it tight, his thigh muscles flexed as he props one leg up on the puff. there’s a tiger plush in the corner. it kills you, but somehow it works.

wonwoo: it’s a mirror pic in his bathroom, dick out, one hand languidly holding it, while he flexes his abs, and the veins of his hand. no caption, no emojis—just the picture. he knows it’ll have you spiraling.

woozi: accidental thirst trap. he sends you a random post-shower pic, towel slung low on his hips, wet hair clinging to his forehead, and his hard cock half-hidden. “oh, oops, didn’t mean to send that.”

minghao: taken from the side, showing off his hips, his cock semi-hard against his thigh, with some dramatic lighting in the background. the veins of his arm, and lower belly POPPING.

mingyu: another mirror whore. he’s taking the pic in his bedroom mirror, one hand stroking himself, abs and v-line shinng and you don't know if it's sweat, oil, or mosturizer. the smirk he gives is almost as cocky as his stupidly hard dick.

seokmin: the shy teaser. he sends you a pic of just the tip of his cock, all red and leaking, his hand covering the rest but barely in the frame. “is this… okay?” like, yes, it’s okay, now send the whole damn thing.

seungkwan: never thought he would send a nude, firstly. so it's aa tight shot of just his cock, leaking and red at the tip, his hand hovering like he’s debating whether to jerk off or not. “you’re making me like this, you know that?” he’s nervous, but he’s loving how wild it’ll make you.

vernon: lounging on the couch, sweatpants pushed low enough to expose his cock resting against his abs, hand casually draped over it. “so… you up?” he acts like it’s no big deal, but he’s grinning like crazy after hitting send, creating a scenario in his mind where you look at the pic while touching yourself.

chan: a full-body selfie of him sitting on the edge of the bed, cock hard and curved up against his stomach, face flushed and biting his lip. “thinking about you, noona. can I come over?”

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i2rizz · 3 months ago

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Bro’s the Type to…

Kaiser, rin, sae, shidou, reo, nagi

|masterlist

|masterlist #2

Kaiser

-Bro’s the type to send you smug selfies with the caption, “Miss me yet?” even if you just saw him.

-Bro’s the type to act like he doesn’t care about your praise, but if you don’t compliment his plays, he will pout.

-Bro’s the type to call you right after a game just to hear your voice. If he lost, he won’t admit he needs comfort, but you can hear it in his voice when he asks, “Did you watch?”

-Bro’s the type to joke about being your one true love, but deep down, he means it.

Rin

-Bro’s the type to get so excited when he sees you that he accidentally smiles too big—then immediately tries to play it cool.

-Bro’s the type to take mental notes on your favorite things and surprise you with them without a word.

-Bro’s the type to glare at the ground after a bad game, but if you come up and say, “You did well,” he won’t admit it, but it fixes everything.

-Bro’s the type to pretend he doesn’t care about PDA, but his hand is always hovering near yours.

Sae

-Bro’s the type to act like he’s so unbothered when you cheer for him, but if you ever stop? He will notice immediately.

-Bro’s the type to wordlessly place his jacket over your shoulders if you’re cold—and then pretend it was never a thing.

-Bro’s the type to give you advice on anything with a straight face but gets secretly soft when you take it to heart.

-Bro’s the type to sigh dramatically if you’re late to meet him but will always wait without complaint.

Shidou

-Bro’s the type to pull you into a hug so tight it lifts you off the ground—just because he felt like it.

-Bro’s the type to flirt shamelessly in public but will lowkey actually get flustered if you flirt back.

-Bro’s the type to call you in the middle of the night just to say, “Bet you were dreaming about me.”

-Bro’s the type to start fights on the field just to impress you. (Was it necessary? No. Did he do it anyway? Absolutely.)

Reo

-Bro’s the type to say, “You don’t need to buy anything, I got you,” before you even ask.

-Bro’s the type to get irrationally jealous if you compliment someone else’s skills.

-Bro’s the type to hold your hand under the table when he’s nervous about a game—he swears he’s not, but he totally is.

-Bro’s the type to look at you like you hung the moon but pretends he doesn’t when you call him out.

Nagi

-Bro’s the type to drape himself over you like a weighted blanket and say, “Wake me up when it’s time to leave.”

-Bro’s the type to get lowkey possessive if someone else makes you laugh—but he’ll just copy their joke to one-up them.

-Bro’s the type to steal your snacks and act like it was a “tax” for dating him.

-Bro’s the type to mumble “Too much effort…” but will drop everything if you need something.

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kxsagi · 16 days ago

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heyy. Request of bluelock boys seeing s/o's SNATCHED waist and abs for the first time😍😍 (pls include itoshi brothers and shidou...)

“𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞”

a/n: this must be a sign to do ab and waist workouts

ft. isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro

isagi yoichi

he’s not ready. he thinks he is, but he’s not.

you’re standing in front of the mirror in a sports bra and leggings, abs shining under the light, waist cinched like you were built to make greek gods weep. he walks in halfway through sipping water and just stops existing.

"yoichi?” you turn to look at him.

he drops his water bottle.

“sorry. no– i just– what the FUCK,” he wheezes.

boy is down astronomically. he’s stumbling toward you like he’s drunk, one hand reaching for your waist like it’ll stabilize his brain. "you didn’t tell me you were hiding a whole six-pack under there?!”

he touches your waist gently like he's afraid it might evaporate. palms trace your hips with the reverence of a man who just found religion.

“holy moly,” he mutters, dragging a hand up your stomach. “you keep walking around like that and i’m gonna die. just combust. right here.”

kaiser michael

kaiser doesn’t go speechless for anyone. except you, shirt riding up while stretching on your tiptoes, waist so sharp it’s sculpted, and abs that ripple when you laugh.

he sees you from across the room, chokes on his gum, and deadass walks into the doorframe.

"you good?" you ask.

he leans on the wall dramatically. "define ‘good.’ because i think i just saw my entire life flash before my eyes and it had your waist in HD. scratch that. 4K."

his hands are immediately on your waist, gripping like a man claiming property. “gawly, you’ve got villainess-level abs. are you trying to ruin me?”

he pulls you flush against him, voice dropping low. “say the word, and i’ll get on my knees and thank your personal trainer.”

he's posting thirst traps of you to his own fans. no captions, just 🛐. they know what it means.

itoshi rin

the moment rin sees your abs – firm, cut just right, dipping into your hips with a waist that looks stolen from a renaissance painting – he stares like his system just rebooted.

he blinks once. twice.

"... why do you look like that?" he says flatly, trying to hide the storm raging inside.

“like what?”

“like... that.” he gestures vaguely to your waist with his ears turning red.

he goes quiet for the next ten minutes, and when you call him out, he finally mutters, “i’m trying not to lose my mind, okay? give me a second.”

eventually, he gives in. sneaks up behind you, arms slipping around your waist like it’s instinct. his lips hover near your neck.

“you know,” he whispers, “you can’t expect me to be normal about this. i’ve already played out three fantasies and we’re not even past breakfast.”

itoshi sae

sae sees your waist and abs peeking from under your crop top and he literally stops mid-step. just freezes. like someone hit the pause button on him.

he glances once, then again. raises a brow. “since when have you looked like that?”

“like what?”

he walks over, calm and composed, and then suddenly presses a kiss right on your stomach. like he was called to it.

“like a sin wrapped in spandex,” he mutters.

sae acts unbothered but you catch him constantly watching you in the mirror when you’re getting ready. “you’re unreal,” he says casually, like you’re not actively dismantling his sanity.

lowkey jealous your waist is smaller than his hand span. highkey wants to slide his hands down your abs every time you kiss him.

whispers “need that” into your skin every time he touches your waist and feels it flex under his fingers.

shidou ryusei

"okay. NO. you’re not allowed to walk around like that and expect me to act normal.”

shidou loses it. full hands-on-knees, doubled-over, wheezing-laughter kind of moment when he first sees your abs.

“you look like an action movie poster,” he groans, dropping to his knees like you’re the second coming. “oh my gosh. i’m in love with your core. i wanna marry your waist. i’ll change my last name to yours.”

obsessed. doesn’t even try to hide it. hands permanently stationed at your waist like it’s his emotional support handlebar.

“hey babe,” he grins. “flex for me real quick. yeah, just like that. shit, you’re unreal. do it again.”

you bend down to grab something and he makes the most sinful noise you’ve ever heard. “i’m not okay,” he says dramatically, “call an ambulance. i’ve been stabbed by sexiness.”

bachira meguru

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” that’s the sound bachira makes when he first sees your waist.

he’s rolling on the floor, clutching his head. “NOOO you can’t just be BUILT like this!! it’s illegal!!”

he runs up to you, grabs your waist, and presses his cheek right to your stomach like it’s sacred. “i love you. i love you and your perfect abs. you are my main character now.”

anytime you wear a crop top, he turns into your personal hype machine. “LOOK AT HER. LOOK. LOOK AT THIS WAIST. god speed, peasants.”

starts joking that you need a license to be that fine.

buys you shirts that say “body goals” and “snatched & dangerous” and insists you wear them.

“i’m gonna paint your waist on the wall so i can stare at it every day.”

nagi seishiro

“yo… you got abs?”

you nod. “yeah.”

he nods back. “nice.”

you think that’s the end of it. it is not.

he’s now lying with his head on your stomach 24/7 like it’s the only pillow he recognizes. if he wakes up and your shirt is a little lifted? grins. “snatched girl privileges.”

he starts playing games on your stomach. taps your abs with his fingers while murmuring, “i bet i could break a pencil on this.”

(he tries. it almost works.)

genuinely fascinated. “it’s like… smooth, but firm? like a sexy marble counter.”

wraps his arms around your waist when he’s sleepy and refuses to let go. “mine,” he mumbles. “built like a boss level and still soft.”

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madsxyins · 26 days ago

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Not clingy, Just close

pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

word count: 1k

warnings: none

synopsis: Just a bunch of clips showing Paige being clingy but pretending she’s not, and Y/n catching her every time.

anon req

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

TikTok @yourusername

Caption: “This girl acts like she hates attention but won’t let me breathe in peace 😭 “

The video opens with a soft rustle of sheets. The screen is dimly lit with early morning sunlight filtering through blinds. You angle the camera toward your chest, where Paige is draped across you,head buried in your neck, one leg thrown over yours, both her arms snug around your torso.

You (quietly) “Paige… baby, I gotta get up.”

Paige (muffled) “No you don’t.”

You shift a little under her weight, one arm wiggling free to brush back her messy morning hair. She grumbles and tightens her hold like you’re her human-sized security blanket.

You “You’re literally using me as a mattress right now.”

Paige (still buried) “Exactly. Warm and Soft.”

You let out a quiet laugh and hold up your phone a little higher to capture her face , sleepy eyes half-closed, pout forming as she nuzzles closer.

You“Who’s my baby?”

There’s a pause. She groans and doesn’t lift her head, but her response is barely audible.

Paige “…I am.”

You smile. It’s such a quiet moment, so intimate. Then , your mistake ,the camera shifts slightly and Paige catches sight of the screen reflection in the window.

She freezes. Slowly lifts her head and gives you a blank stare.

Paige “Are you filming this?”

You (caught) “No?”

Paige (dry) “Right. And I’m not currently suffocating you with love.”

She peels herself off of you like she was never even snuggled in, sits upright against the headboard, and pretends to scroll on her phone like a stranger. Completely blank expression.

You “You were literally clinging to me like a koala two seconds ago.”

Paige “Must’ve been someone else. I don’t even like cuddling.”

You flip the camera to your face, deadpan.

You “This girl is such a liar.”

In the background, Paige sips from your water bottle without asking. Then sighs and mutters under her breath:

Paige“…Still want cuddles though.”

YouTube Vlog “a day off with my girlfriend (who claims she’s not clingy)”

Thumbnail: Paige asleep in your lap with the caption “not clingy, huh?”

You set the camera down on a windowsill to record a chill day off. You’re on the couch reading, and Paige is… fully spread across your lap like a sleepy golden retriever. She’s not even pretending to be productive.

You (to the camera) “She said, and I quote, ‘I’m gonna let you do your thing today.’”

You glance down. Paige opens one eye and hums.

Paige “I am letting you. I’m just… participating.”

You “You’re deadweight.”

Paige (grinning, eyes still shut)“Emotional support girlfriend. Let me live.”

You shake your head and go back to your book. Paige kisses your thigh once and sighs dramatically.

TikTok @yourusername

Caption: “Me trying to work vs my girlfriend pretending she doesn’t need attention”

Quick clips show you sitting at your desk editing. Behind you, Paige appears: first just walking in… then pretending to grab something… then hovering like a shadow… and finally, quietly laying her head on your shoulder.

Text overlay “every 12 minutes like clockwork 😅”

Last clip is her whispering:

Paige “You still love me, right?”

You “Yes, Paige.”

Paige “Just checking.”

YouTube Vlog “late night q&a with my gf (until she fell asleep mid-answer)”

You both sit in bed, filming a relaxed Q&A with soft lighting. Paige is in an oversized hoodie, half-asleep but answering questions.

You: “What was your first impression of me?”

Paige (blinking slowly) “I thought you were too pretty to talk to me. So I avoided you for like three weeks.”

You “You literally sat next to me at the camp orientation.”

Paige “Yeah. And I didn’t say a single word.”

She smiles sleepily, leans her head against your shoulder. Your hand goes to her hair almost on instinct.

You “Favorite thing about me?”

Silence. You glance down. She’s knocked out.

You (laughing) “That’s crazy. Guess I’ll just take that as everything.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶

author’s note: idk if i find this cringe😭 seems okay enough lmao thanks for reading!

#madsxyins writes #paige bueckers #wlw #influencer #paige bueckers x reader #basketball #tiktok

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tojisun · 1 year ago

Text

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au)

hockey player simon riley x f!reader’s relationship, through the eyes of the fans // sort of smau

i was listening to 5sos’ slsp while writing this so!!! sorry i went bonkers 😔 i just love this au sm

simon riley is obsessed with his girl, and it is maddeningly endearing.

of course he’s in love with you, everyone could see even from a continent away, but there is something clingy, possessive, in the way simon hovers around you. like you’d disappear right before his eyes if he wasn’t pressed close; if his tattooed arm wasn’t looped around your waist or his thick fingers were not twined with yours.

it is new, unheard of, even riley’s loyal fans says so, but it’s just so—

nice.

(the word is inadequate, they know, but there’s nothing close that could describe how heart-fluttering his devotion to you is.)

riley has always been a private person, sharing only sparse details of his life. one can even easily locate his earliest instagram post because there’s just about twenty uploads in his account since its creation—from 2017, and it’s a broken hockey stick. even that throw-away picture continues to amass likes as new fans come scouring whatever of him they can find.

his latest post was during last season’s finals’ celebrations—a series of pictures of the boys carrying the stanley cup. the first few pictures were all professionally taken, but the rest splinters into blurred shots of mactavish and garrick, particularly, drinking from the cup from inside of the locker room.

it said: thank you all.

curt, direct, but not any less meaningful.

cut to this year, mid-regular season (january), and after five months of drought, the simon riley posted a picture. and it wasn’t just any picture, but it was a hard launch of his new partner.

it was a selfie, taken by you, the camera angled just slightly. your back was pressed to his chest, and his chin was hooked to your shoulder, and, cheek-to-cheek, the two of you grin up at the camera. the background was distinctly new york, central park, so it must have been taken after the specgru’s game against the rangers (0-4 for the specgru).

for the caption, he wrote: she’s never been here before.

in an instant, all of the speculations were confirmed—the most eligible bachelor of the franchise is, finally, in an official relationship.

news articles popped up after that, speculations bloating at the shocking news. some people have even said that they’re sure they’ve seen you prior to the announcement—weren’t you that one fan simon riley was flirting with while he was on ice, mid-game?

(you were.

you were even one of the people that was tagged in johnny’s story before it got preemptively taken down; and the same person seen with the other WAGs, sprinkles of your silhouette seen on pictures like the ones that are taken on the days when the franchise flies them for game nights or the countless ones during the unveiling of the season’s WAGs jackets.

you have been a part of their circle even before the world knew who you were and, somehow, that was comforting; how simon riley had not thrown you to the wolves—or vultures, as mactavish snarled when they’ve hounded him about his fiancee’s abrupt end of her season in the FIVB, like her health wasn’t the priority over her career—and instead made sure you were surrounded by people who knew how to survive amidst the scrutiny.)

and, just like that, the dam called simon-riley’s-secret-album-of-you broke.

what had been a sporadic activity in his account exploded into series of posts, one update every week. it was a whirlwind of excitement because no one from the hockey world has ever seen this much of simon riley’s life.

he was always unapproachable, distant, like there’s always a wall between him and the rest of the world. like in exchange of being called the living legend, the guiding star, simon riley gets to shirk away from the public whenever he chooses. and who can fault him for that? riley’s career has always been heavily documented—people knew him even before he was drafted into the league, they had betted on his rookie year, and then had put him in a lonely pedestal. so of course he is fiercely protective of his privacy.

only a select few get to truly know him, only a select few have stories of simon that isn’t about the ice or hockey or his in-the-works legacy. only a select few see him beyond his crown, and now he’s giving a piece of his true self to the world because of you.

because you are worth showing off.

because life with you is worth celebrating.

riley41

[it’s a candid image of you standing on the balcony, wearing a too-big of a shirt that is getting ruffled by the wind and pyjama pants, and leaning over the railing as you stare at the scenery. you’re all silhouette because your body is devoured by the orange rays of the sunrise, its tendrils spilling into the wooden floors of the hotel room.]

liked by jmactavish.91, reyenzo14, and others

riley41 ibiza

riley41

[it’s a series. the first image is of the two of you on his motorcycle, the picture taken from simon’s bike’s camera. you’re both wearing tinted helmets and leather gears, the background a blur of colours which indicates that this was taken mid-ride. you’re gripping him tightly and your body is almost fully-covered by his bulk, leaving only the top half of your helmet to be seen peering from his shoulders.

the second image is of the beach. it’s dusk, and the sky is an explosion of pinks and purples and blues.

the third image is a selfie with your visors up. you’re looking at the camera with a shy smile, your eyes squinted because of how bright it still is, while simon only has his eyes on you.]

liked by pricejhn2, alexkeller_, and others

riley41 vroom

riley41

[it’s a mirror selfie of the two of you, with simon taking the photo. the background is notably his house. your back is facing the mirror, your head tilted to rest on his shoulder, while his arm is curled around your waist. you’re wearing this season’s WAG jacket—it’s black and green, their colours. the pose now makes sense because you’re showing off the back of the jacket that spells out RILEY 41 in white. simon’s wearing their away-jersey.]

liked by kylegarrick, konig_76, and others

riley41 game six let’s go

riley41

[it’s a video; the angle shows that it is taken by someone else. you and simon are hugging, and are swaying lightly as the two of you dance to the faint sound of music booming from somewhere behind the camera. simon’s mouthing the lyrics to your ear, his cheeks flushed like he’s buzzed from drinking, while you giggle and softly rub your palm at his back.]

liked by jmactavish.91, kylegarrick, and others

riley41 my favourite person

yourname

[it’s a candid picture you’ve taken of simon sleeping while he uses your lap as pillow. the angle captures the way your fingers are playing with his hair and scratching his scalp gently. the picture is a little blurry because there’s not enough light to properly focus the lens.]

liked by riley41, jjoanne.spam, and others

yourname im the happiest when im with him

#hockey au #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod x reader #suns #peep at biker simon <3 forcefully colliding my two worlds

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amirawrah · 1 month ago

Text

⭐︎we're not current

with JOBE BELLINGHAM⭐︎REQUESTED BY ANON!

synopsis: based on the trend on tiktok 'I'm here with my current boyfriend'

You’d been waiting for Jobe to finish showering for what felt like forever, lying sideways on his bed in your shorts and one of his sweatshirts, scrolling through your TikTok fyp with that slow satisfaction that only came after a full meal and a long cuddle. The apartment was warm, quiet except for the soft hum of a playlist he’d left playing through the speaker. You were visiting him in Sunderland for a long weekend, and the peace you felt being back in his space, in his arms, made the idea of returning back home almost unbearable.

You’d seen the trend earlier that day — the one where girls film their boyfriends with the caption “I’m here with my current boyfriend” and the guy’s reaction is either hilarious confusion, offence, or instant clinginess. You couldn’t help yourself.

So when you heard the bathroom door click open and soft footsteps pad down the hallway, you calmly walked to the dressing table and set it down to get a full frame of the both of you and waited.

Jobe walked in, hair damp, wearing only grey sweats, towel slung over his shoulder. He was still drying off the back of his neck when he looked up and spotted you filming.

He froze. His eyes squinted just slightly, playful suspicion already creeping into his features as he noticed you were filming.

He followed you with his eyes, then with his body, silently padding across the room to stand beside you. His warmth hovered close as he leaned in to look at the screen.

You kept your expression neutral, lips twitching. Then, casually, softly, almost sweetly, you said,

“Hey guys i’m here with my current boyfriend.”

A full beat of silence.

Jobe slowly turned his head toward you, eyes squinting like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“Current?”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress a grin.

He blinked. “Nah. You’re mad disrespectful for that.”

You laughed, but he didn’t look away. His mouth parted like he wanted to say more, but he just shook his head.

You were fully laughing now, collapsing into the seat in front of the dressing table as he stepped behind you and leaned down, wrapping both arms around your shoulders and resting his chin on your head.

“Don’t play with me like that,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your hair. “I’m not some temp. I’m the forever boyfriend. Fiancé if you slip up.”

You grinned, tilting your head back to look up at him. “So I’m just supposed to live in fear of a surprise proposal?”

“Not fear,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “Excitement.”

You hummed, skeptical. “You? With your clumsy self?”

He pulled back, offended. “Wow. no gratitude.”

You laughed. “I didn’t say I wasn’t grateful. I’m just saying, if you’re going to propose, maybe let me be the one holding the ring.”

“Some fiancé you'll be,” he said while laughing.

You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “Jobe!”

He caught it easily and tossed it aside, stepping between your legs again and letting his hands settle gently on your hips. His voice dropped.

“All jokes aside,” he said, gaze locked on yours, “I love you. I don’t care if the world sees it, laughs at it, reposts it, whatever. I’m not going anywhere.”

The air went still for a moment, your heartbeat syncing with the weight of his words. “I love you too,” you said, softer this time. “Even when you say reckless things like Jobe Junior.”

He chuckled, forehead resting against yours. “He’s gonna be so loved though.”

You smiled. “He better be. He’s gonna have your ears.”

“And your attitude,” he said, pulling back with a smirk. “Pray for me.”

You both burst into laughter again, the warmth of it filling the room like a familiar melody.

You and Jobe had your own world. One full of inside jokes, soft kisses, and future plans filled with love and no matter what people said, you already knew—he wasn’t your current boyfriend.

He was your only one.

#mirahsworks🦫#jobe bellingham x reader #jobe bellingham fluff #jobe bellingham x you #jobe bellingham imagine #jobe bellingham #jobe bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham x reader

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coolwyous · 13 days ago

Text

┈─★ 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 .

⊹ ࣪ ˖ megan knows her confession came at a terrible, horrible time. megan knows she had a million chances before now to say something. megan knows it's probably selfish, could ruin the band, and is overall extremely unfair. but megan also knows she needs to set the record straight— it was messy, and it was imperfect, sure, but megan loved you, that much she knows for certain.

ˎˊ˗ ☀️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ୭˚. ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

➴ ➴ pairing: idol!megan skiendiel x f!reader.

➴ genre + wc: 7k, childhood friends, unrequited love, heavy pining, angst, megan is so down bad it hurts, also sorry manon for what u are about to go through, reader is oblivious, megan is lowkey a shit-head punk in this but idc i found it fun!!

➴ you might want to tune in...: misses - dominic fike. ♫

┈─★ a/n: i wanted some megan pining + megan angst so guess what i did <33

the fact that your friendship survived her time on dream academy is a miracle in and of itself.

megan is sitting criss-crossed on your bed, trying to stack your squishmallows. squishmallows she herself has bought you, she herself insisted you keep, she herself would pretend to cry every time you even considered getting rid of them.

“can i post this?” she asks, holding up a photo on her phone you two had taken that morning at the beach.

she had flown back home to hawaii for a few days, to spend time with her family before the katseye tour started, but insisted on spending as much of her vacation with you.

“crop me out please,” you tell her, as if she doesn’t already know your rule.

but megan is stubborn, and insists on trying anyways.

“why can’t i tag you?” she groans, throwing herself back on the bed.

“people would ask about me,” you remind her.

when she had first gone on dream academy, you knew it was going to change everything for her. of course it would, after all, she’s megan— charming, hardworking, and so, so talented. it was a matter of time before the world discovered her, and you were well prepared, but that didn’t mean you necessarily wanted the same. while megan dreamed of reaching every corner of the world, you wanted to keep your head low, focus on getting through each day, making the most of the life you have in front of you instead of chasing anything too big or too flashy.

it’s what made you two so good together— megan, the dreamer with her head in the clouds, and you, the earth beneath her feet.

“so what?” she questions, brows furrowing. “we just don’t hang out any more? you’re my best friend.”

“meiyok, you do this every week,” you laugh, playfully rubbing her forehead to try and smooth out her eyebrows. “i have to hide, since you want to go off and blow up and shit.”

“not my fault i’m so talented,” megan grins.

“it is your fault that you attract attention so easily,” you tease. “miss future superstar.”

megan’s fingers hover over your photos: you laughing in the water, her on an electric scooter, the two of you chasing after seagulls on the beach.

“are you sure?”

you nod. “i don’t want the world to know about me.”

“how are people supposed to know that i’m your friend?” she asks, and you see her lips curl up into a pout.

“you know, and i know,” you give her a gentle caress of the arm to try and soothe her. “that’s who matters, right? us.”

“right.” megan nods, blinking. “us. right.”

she deletes the photos that have any trace of you, posting herself instead, deleting the way she tagged you for photo credits, simply captioning it the sunshine feels good. you thank her and go back to hunting through your closet for clothes you don’t wear any more to make room for the new.

you don’t notice that megan spots an old hoodie she had gifted you in the “giveaway” pile. you don’t see her wince, her face tensing in realization. you don’t see her pick up the hoodie, bring it to her cheek to smell your familiar scent, and fold up politely, before tucking it into her tote bag. she figures if you were getting rid of it, you probably won’t notice. she’s right. you don’t.

—

touring takes off, and every day, you see megan’s follower count on instagram skyrocket further and further. you see her everywhere— on your tik tok, on your socials, you hear their songs on the radio, you even see megan’s face on posters out on buildings. people in your small town are beyond proud of her, posting about how they’ve known her since she was a kid or how she used to come buy shaved ice from their stand on the beach. but you never do, this is about megan, not about you, and you’re happy just knowing what you do about your best friend. your bond is nobody’s business but your own, and you intend to keep it that way.

she’s been insanely busy since the tour started, but when you get a facetime call one morning from your goofy meiyok, knowing they just touched down in hawaii for a performance, you pick up ASAP as to not leave her waiting.

(you already know what she’s going to ask.)

“will you come to our show?” she asks breathlessly, no greeting, no check in if you’re busy, no letting you know when and where. it’s how megan operates: messy, a little recklessly, but so full of good intentions, leading herself through the world heart-first and using her head later.

“wouldn’t miss it,” you smile. “already asked for tonight off from work.

“will you sit backstage?” she asks eagerly, and your stomach twists at the idea. you never wanted to get special treatment, to mooch off megan’s success in any way. you had already bought your own ticket, never wanting megan to feel like she had to give any kind of hand-out to you or like you were using her for the perks. this girl had been your best friend since childhood, and you knew she’d insist on being generous, but that was your job. to shut her down, to tell her no, and to keep living your normal life even when megan wanted to bring you into her lavish lifestyle. your job was to not get caught up in the glamor of it all, and make sure she still feels human at the end of the day.

“i don’t know, mei…” you say hesitantly.

“let me upgrade you to VIP at least and i’ll find you after. or something.” her voice is eager, and even though the camera is moving around to the point it makes you dizzy, you can still see her pleading puppy dog eyes through the facetime screen. “please please please, y/n!”

“don’t crash out,” you laugh, figuring the compromise is fair enough. “i’ll be there.”

“see you tonight,” she beams, nearly glowing through the screen, and you wave before hanging up.

the concert is every bit as fun as you anticipated it would be. megan, true to her word, gets your ticket upgraded to VIP, but you’re much more comfortable with seeming like another casual fan than sitting backstage. you can see her better like this anyways, more authentically herself. you think back to every dance competition you had come to cheer her on for, every audition you waited in the car with, even the way you had helped her pick a song for her dream academy audition.

and now here she is, performing to a sold-out crowd in your hometown, her smile never leaving her face as she sings and effortlessly completes her choreography. she seems so, so happy doing this, and you love seeing her in her element. shining, exactly as you knew she was meant for.

the concert comes to an end, and she calls you nearly as soon as you see her step off stage. she has security guide you through towards the backstage area, as hidden as you can be, and you finally get a chance to meet the girls that you had seen in the background of your facetime calls.

they had all tried to follow you on instagram after the final katseye lineup had been announced, and you figured megan had done more than her fair share of mentioning you during her dream academy time, but you had made it a point to not follow them back. sure, they were megan’s friends, but they were her coworkers first and foremost, and you knew that being on their following list as international popstars would make you an easy target for internet investigators. the last thing you wanted was any weird fan digging you up, so you kept to yourself.

but now, with them in the flesh, you figure you can warm up to them now that they’re real girls in front of your eyes and not just voices and photos behind a screen.

“y/n, we finally meet!” sophia laughs, reaching out to swoop you into a hug as if you guys already knew each other. she’s first to come out from the green room, followed one by one by the rest of them.

“i’m gonna be so honest,” daniela admits sheepishly, wiping down her face with a towel, “i thought you were made up.”

“no forreal, like imaginary friend status,” lara grins, and the four of you laugh. “or like an ai that meggy was always on the phone with.”

“what’s so funny?” megan asks, finally emerging from the room with yoonchae right behind her, furrowing her eyebrows as she reaches over to give you a crushing hug.

“nothing,” you reassure her, hugging her back, not minding the sweat. “just teasing you.”

“oh, so the usual bullshit,” she groans, but the smile on her face tells you it’s all in good fun. yoonchae offers you a quick nod, and you all make small talk as the girls refuel with snacks and rehydrate.

you’re caught off guard when the dressing room door opens a final time, their final and missing member stepping out into the hallway with you guys. your eyes meet, and you instantly feel a tingle in your spine with the way her eyes light up.

“oh, who is you?” she says in a mock-surprised voice, causing the rest of the girls to crack up. you can tell manon is the influential one, the way she radiates confidence, and you’ve never been one to get starstruck, but maybe there’s a first for everything.

the girls all scream and echo it, imitating her: “oh who is you?” over and over again, back and forth, cracking themselves up as it gets funnier and funnier each time they say it, all of them laughing.

well… all of them except for one.

“you know who this is,” megan rolls her eyes, and you’re thrown off by how your usually goofy best friend is for some reason not into the whole bit.

“well where are your manners, megan? introduce me,” manon tells her, crossing her arms over her chest nonchalantly, not letting megan’s disposition throw her off.

that’s the thing about megan that you’ve always known— megan has a big heart, but she’s ruled by her emotions, and whatever she’s feeling right now is written across her face. you want to investigate further, to ask her what her deal is, but before you can get a chance, megan is already complying. you sense that she’s not quite ready to go against manon, and rolls her eyes as she points between the two of you.

“manon, y/n,” she says, gritting her teeth. “y/n, manon.”

“same name on instagram? or…” manon’s eyes flicker up playfully at you as she pulls out her phone.

“y/n doesn’t want us following her on socials,” megan says quickly, her eyes wide, realizing what manon is suggesting.

“this one’s fine,” you grin, waving her off, feeling your cheeks warm up. manon smiles back at you and hands you her phone.

“oh, special treatment much?” lara boos playfully. “quit rizzing up the quiet ones, manon.”

you all laugh, and your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling. manon won’t stop looking at you, smiling back.

what you don’t catch is megan’s forced smile. she’s smiling, but it doesn’t make it to her eyes.

—

the girls are all supposed to fly to LA later that night, but megan opts to stay in hawaii one day longer, getting a later flight so she can spend more time with her loved ones. you worry that she’ll be sleep deprived from the messed up schedule but she insists she’ll be fine, promising you there’s no need to worry. she stays at her parent’s house that night instead of a hotel, and she barely gets a chance to ask before you’re reassuring her that you’ll spend the night.

she tells you all about the grueling dance practices, the people she’s met on tour, the secret new album they’re working on recording in between tour dates. the two of you lay side by side in her bed, in the same room she’s had since you were first friends, and spend the whole night laughing at tik toks and reminiscing about the mess that was your group junior prom, ending in megan ripping her dress down her ass from dancing too wildly on the dance floor.

you can hear her breathing even out as she quiets down, clearly drifting off after such a long night. but you have a pressing question, one that makes you a little nervous, and you realize asking megan now is better than waiting for a chance that might never come again.

“hey,” you tap her on the nose, gently, with your finger.

she grumbles and turns over in her sleep, her nose wrinkling but she doesn’t open her eyes. “you’re waking me up for what?”

“to ask you a question,” you tell her.

“it can’t wait?” she asks, letting out a sigh.

“it’s serious,” you finally admit, biting your lip. “i don’t want to lose you.”

she turns over instantly, her eyes wide as they look up at you. she seems panicked, and you worry that maybe this wasn’t a good idea in the first place.

“maybe i should say something first,” megan mumbles quietly, and you feel your chest thud.

“i mean, you can, if you want,” you offer.

“no actually, you first,” she shakes her head, eyes screwing shut for a brief moment. you can feel her nervous breaths on the tip of your nose, the closeness between the two of you. she opens her eyes once more and nods, blinking. “okay, i’m ready.”

“i know i haven’t exactly wanted to be in the spotlight with you,” you start, your voice quiet. you know it’s unfair— all megan has ever been is kind, and patient, and understanding, and you realize maybe, that kind of patience was all you needed to take a leap like this.

“do you think i could have manon’s number?” you finally blurt, biting down on your bottom lip anxiously as the words leave your mouth. “might be easier than dm’s.”

megan looks at you, blinking back, as if in shock. her body is still for a few moments, but she quickly shakes her head, as if she’s waking back up. her brows furrow across her forehead, and you worry for a second that you’ve offended her by seeking out a way to get closer to her coworker after all you’ve said and done to avoid being involved with all this, but megan is megan, and you realize it was silly to worry. she’s always going to have your back.

“yeah,” she nods slowly, swallowing down. “yeah, um, i don’t think she’ll mind.”

you smile and press your foreheads together, grateful to whatever is out there that gave you the angel that is megan skiendiel. “what were you going to say earlier, mei?”

she closes her eyes as your foreheads touch, her breath gentle against your face. “uh… just if you’re busy tomorrow. if we could surf or something. i’ve missed you.”

“i can fit you in the schedule,” you grin, before feeling your eyelids getting heavy. you leave your head there, comforted by the sound of megan’s breaths so close to you, feeling your heart race still from your question. “my eyes are closing. good night, mei.”

you fall asleep, and don’t notice the way megan’s eyes flutter back open and linger on your lips for much, much longer than needed.

—

a few weeks later, you have a break in your work schedule, and megan insists on flying you out to LA with her and the kats to spend some time together before their tour picks back up.

you and megan spend the day touring the city, hitting the beach, laughing your heads off. she brings you to a park, unpacking a tote bag to reveal the makings of a picnic as you two sit in the grass and admire the sunset. the watermelon is sticky against your chin, and she laughs taking photos of you against the california sky.

“would you help me with something?” you ask, watching as she struggles to neatly cut a piece of cheese with her stupid little charcuterie knife, making a mess on the blanket. you laugh, and she grins up at you.

“anything,” she answers easily.

“manon finally asked me on a date,” you admit. the two of you had been texting non-stop since their show in hawaii, and even though she was in new york right now doing publicity for a makeup brand, she had offered to take you out as soon as she’s back in LA as long as you’re still there.

“no yeah, duh,” she blinks, as if she wasn’t expecting it. “of course.”

you grimace. megan hadn’t asked how things were going between the two of you, and you hadn’t made it a point to ask. megan had never been open about dating during your friendship, and you were always too picky to be serious about any crushes, so the two of you had never really gotten to the point of talking about your romantic interests. plus, with megan, your heart was full enough— some days, you wondered why people were so obsessed with the idea of a partner when you had such an incredible best friend to fill your days with.

“she gets back tomorrow. i need help picking an outfit,” you tell her, staring down at the charcuterie platter and fruits in front of you. “and maybe what to say.”

“just be you,” she says simply, looking down again at the cheese and crackers. she doesn’t eat them, just fidgets with them, as she’s always done, a busy body at heart.

“what does she like?” you ask, feeling your throat uncomfortably dry at the thought of your impending date.

megan shakes her head. “don’t worry about that. just be you.”

“i am worrying. i want her to like me,” you admit.

“she will,” megan reassures you, her voice quiet.

“i’m worried if things go poorly i’ll lose you,” you confess, tilting your head at her. “make things weird.”

“it won’t. i’ve got your back,” megan nods, reaching out to pat you gently on the shoulder.

“thanks,” you breathe.

she wrinkles her nose, and you can see she’s debating something inside herself, but within moments, she’s blurting out her question, no filter.

“how come you didn’t want to be seen with me but you’re down to go see manon?”

“it’s not like that,” you shake your head, realizing it may seem unfair in your best friend’s eyes. “it’s easier to hide one date than our whole ass friendship.”

“what if she falls in love with you?” megan presses on, her eyes wide and pleading. “what then?”

“well, that’s not my problem,” you laugh, wondering where this sudden stress is coming on from. “i’m just trying to get through that damn date.”

“you’re right, you’re right,” megan shakes her head. “sorry. you know how i get.”

you reach over to stroke her back reassuringly, before adding a quiet confession, your lips curling into an eager smile.

“i’m excited for the first time in a long time,” you admit. “she seems like a really good one.”

you don’t notice megan’s head fall ever so slightly. she never tells you about how long she had planned this picnic, making sure to choose all your favorite things, the blanket in your favorite color.

—

a few weeks later, your uber is dropping you off at an unfamiliar door, as you try to knock as quietly as possible to not seem suspicious in this unfamiliar neighborhood.

the door swings open, and you see her— clearly having just woken up, hair a mess, but so, so familiar. you can’t stop yourself from smiling at the sight of her.

“y/n,” megan beams excitedly, her eyes going wide as she realizes you’re in front of her, in the flesh. “you’re here?”

“i flew in this morning,” you grin. “surprise.”

she grabs your bag and pulls you into the house, wrapping you up in a hug so tight, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. she’s smiling so brightly, her teeth on full display, it’s almost like you just told her she’s won the lottery. her words come out a million miles a minute, the girl rambling all on what seems like a single breath as she looks you over.

“how do you feel? are you jet lagged? what are you doing today? if you give me like 5 minutes, i can get ready super duper fast and we can hang out— do you want to go get a coffee?”

you can’t help but smile, even if you are absolutely exhausted from your red-eye. megan just has that cheering effect on people. “i was craving a coffee so bad, actually. where has a good drive-thru?”

“i was thinking i could show you this new place downtown—” megan starts, smiling sheepishly, but you’re both quickly interrupted by a third voice and the sound of steps coming from upstairs.

“no way, is that my woman?” manon beams, coming down the stairs. “you look so fine, what the hell.”

“flew in to surprise you,” you smile, your cheeks burning at the sight of her.

“you shouldn’t have,” manon grins, reaching over to grab your hand and kiss you. you’ve always been shy about pda, but ever since becoming official last week, you haven’t minded squeezing it in any chance you get.

“coffee date with megan?” you offer, motioning to the tallest of the three of you.

but megan’s smile has turned into a tight line of her lips pressing together, looking down at the way manon has her arm wrapped around your waist.

“nah, you guys go, i just remembered i have a thing,” megan waves you off, rubbing the back of her neck. “i’ll send you the spot. bring me back something?”

you open your mouth to ask something, but manon is faster.

“i need a driver,” manon grins sheepishly. “still getting that american license, remember?”

“y/n can drive my car. you’ll be careful, right?” she looks over at you, handing you her keys, something in her eyes that makes you want to ask.

but you don’t, instead smiling back at manon and putting the keys in your pocket. “of course, i’ll be careful.”

“see ya,” she waves you two off, watching as manon follows you out the door, the two of you covering your faces with sunglasses and masks.

you don’t see the way megan looks down at her hands. you never realize that you forget to bring her back a drink.

—

the girls only get more busy, and you only have so many hours in a day. manon calls you on routine, every morning before you go to work, but that means you have less time for megan’s calls. but she still makes it a point to send you postcards from every new city, sending you pictures over text even if you take forever to reply, reminding you that she’s there even if you guys aren’t talking as often as you had at one point.

but after a particularly grueling fight over the phone with manon, you find yourself seeking her out. you know they’re in korea right now, and manon was nearly falling asleep halfway through your fight, but your call only rings once before megan is picking up, her groggy voice soothing you instantly.

“y/n,” she breathes, quiet but excited. “it’s been forever.”

“hey mei,” you smile, but you realize your voice is shaky. “sorry, i know you might be sleeping.”

“what’s wrong?” she asks instantly. years together make it easy for her to read you, too easy.

“i just need you to tell me i’m being irrational,” you breathe, feeling mildly guilty that your first real conversation in weeks is for you to complain about her friend. but megan stays quiet, and listens, letting you rant about the fight you just had, getting it all off your chest. she listen, without judgement, without cutting you off, and you feel yourself instantly comforted. megan always manages to know exactly what to do.

you reach the end of your rant, and she’s quiet for a beat longer.

“are you okay?” she asks simply, no judgement, no anger. just concern.

“she’s just too calm sometimes,” you sigh. “like too relaxed.”

“manon’s probably an avoidant attachment,” megan offers, contemplatively. “maybe she thinks you guys are going to hurt each other so she’d rather not talk about the hard stuff.”

you bite your lip, staring up at your ceiling. “has she said anything about me?”

“manon’s super private,” megan sighs. “doesn’t even talk about you to me any more. not since you became official.”

“i know she is,” you mumble back. the thing you had appreciated so much about manon was slowly starting to become an issue in and of itself.

there’s another pause, and you can practically hear the gears turning in megan’s head.

“is she being good to you?” she asks, her voice gentle, tender even. “treating you well?”

“i know we have our ups and downs, but i’m really happy,” you reiterate.

“do you think we would have been happy?” she asks, quickly, as if she’s scared that the line will cut at any given moment. “if we stayed close.”

“maybe,” you smile, though it hurts. all your years, and you never pictured that you and megan could possibly grow apart. but time and distance will do that to you, you figure. “do you ever miss me?”

“maybe,” megan smiles, her voice lighter. “do you miss me?”

“a little,” you admit. being worlds apart with no time to spend together has taken its toll, but your joy in seeing her live out her dreams outweighs it all. “but it’s easier to be proud of you. i feel like i’m distracting you less.”

“no way!” megan nearly shouts, making you smile. “you were never a distraction. honestly i wish you’d live with us at this point.”

“you guys would get sick of me,” you laugh.

“maybe everyone else would,” she teases. “‘cause you’re annoying or whatever. but i wouldn’t.”

“manon would be sooo tired of me,” you laugh again. megan laughs with you, and it’s enough to comfort you. you guys say goodnight, and you hang up soon after to get ready for a family dinner.

you don’t hear megan’s chest tighten after you hang up, the way she lets out a quiet breath. you don’t see megan fall back into her hotel room bed, head thudding into the pillow, her chest aching, whispering quietly to herself in the silence of the night.

“i’d never get tired of you.”

—

another few months go by, and katseye is at the peak of their popularity after gnarly drops. people are eager for their new upcoming EP, and the girls are riding the wave, taking every opportunity to generate talk about their music.

you finally get around to watching their weverse live, partially because you love seeing your two favorite people interact, and partially because their busy schedule has made long phone calls impossible and you miss the sound of manon’s voice.

you and megan have talked even less than before, but you won’t overthink it. you know she’s off living her best life, and the thought makes your heart warm.

you watch the live from your seat in an airplane— hoping to surprise your girlfriend with a visit for the weekend while she’s back in LA.

manon sits in front of the camera, seated next to megan, with yoonchae floating somewhere behind them, just happy to be included.

“manon, spill love life tea?” yoonchae reads out loud, before smiling and shaking her head. “wrong person to ask, guys.”

“guess what i’m definitely not talking about?” manon laughs, rolling her eyes.

“pussy,” megan teases under her breath, much to their surprise, and yoonchae throws her head back in laugher. you smile, grateful megan ended up in a group that lets her be her colorful, goofy self.

“me?” manon presses a hand to her own chest in disbelief, but it’s all playful between the trio. “watch it, ‘cause i can throw a math problem your way real quick, kid.”

megan grins and is next to read a comment. “drop some lore.”

manon shakes her head. “yoonchae?”

“i have nothing,” the maknae says plainly, before reading the next comment. “unnie line, rizz us up.”

“no rizz tonight folks, freshly out,” manon jokes, before squinting into the camera in a goofy pose. you know someone is bound to make a tik tok edit out of the pose by the end of the night.

“and i’m just a lovergirl, that’s my rizz,” megan shrugs, throwing her hands up. you laugh. this dork.

“someone said how can megan be a lovergirl if she’s never loved a girl, poser af,” yoonchae cracks up laughing, and manon follows suit.

megan laughs along, but you notice her eyes squinting at something, almost as if she’s thinking. or rather, over-thinking.

she’s quiet for a few moments longer, the other two scrolling through the chat to hunt for more comments to interact with, but then megan pushes manon by the shoulder, getting her attention. she points to the camera, smiling, but there’s something extra in her eyes, a twinkle of determination. you wonder what the hell she’s possibly up to.

“tell them,” she says simply to manon, pointing again to the camera.

“tell them what?” manon asks, genuinely lost, looking between the younger girl and the camera where they’re livestreaming.

“i am a certified lovergirl,” megan reaffirms, nodding confidently, before dropping a bombshell on the live.

“tell them about how i helped you bag your chick.”

you feel the world pause. yoonchae freezes, manon’s eyes go wide, and your heart drops into your stomach.

“megan,” manon says quickly, like a warning.

your chest tightens. maybe they could have played it off, but your girlfriend’s impulse reaction is obvious enough to show that she’s unnerved by megan’s reveal, and they are definitely not doing a bit any more. you look at the comments, which are now blowing up a mile a minute.

CHICK?!?!? manon has a gf? 😔❤️ MANON WLW CONFIRMED 🏳️‍🌈 did megan wingman for manon?? how did megan know manon’s gf wtfff 👀

“the all-rounder is just being silly, don’t listen to her dumb ass,” manon teases, but the warning glare she shoots the girl doesn’t go missed by you.

“no, tell them. that was my best friend, in the whole world,” megan doubles down. she’s still smiling, a self-satisfied grin, and you feel sick at the way she’s not letting up. “and now she’s your boo.”

manon simply stares at megan in disbelief.

“what?” megan asks back, challengingly.

was? WAS? 🌝🌝 is there beef omfg so grateful to have a weverse subscription on this fine day 🧎🏻‍♀️

“next topic,” yoonchae smiles diplomatically, realizing the two are in a stand-off.

“anyways,” manon says quickly, but the damage is done. you know your girlfriend. you can see her jaw hardening.

and you know megan, unfortunately. the way she stares challengingly at manon, like a dare. they try to switch to a new topic, yoonchae’s most recent viral dance, but the damage is done. the comments are racing, and you can see the three mentally preparing for their managers to call them up, as you’re sure they will as soon as they catch wind of this. the chat is relentless.

manon looks pissed lmao pr training is chasing megan but megan is faster 😭 imma give reddit 12 hrs before we know who this QUEEN is that homie hopped 2/6 katseye members omg

you hear the pilot announce takeoff, and realize you’ll have to put your phone away. you swear under your breath and mentally prepare yourself for the flight, and everything that waits for you once you land.

you don’t see the screaming match that manon and megan get into immediately after the live. you miss the three phone calls that megan sends your way, and you don’t see the message that she sends, only to unsend an hour later, never to be read by your eyes:

sorry, y/n. i couldn’t keep lying. i think we should talk.

—

you land, and instead of seeing megan’s message, you see only her phone calls. manon has called you too, sending texts of screenshots of their furious PR team and their manager blowing up her phone. it’s late by the time you land in LA, and you know she’s probably asleep, so you send a quick text of reassurance to your girlfriend, and focus now on chewing out your best friend at the center of this mess.

what the fuck did you do

megan's reply comes back immediately. what is she doing up this late?

sorry sorry??? megan are you fucking joking sorry no not fucking sorry, be so fucking serious what was the point of that do you know the shitstorm you just stirred? just saw your location are you in LA? i was supposed to surprise manon but she may need a lot of support right now let me get you from the airport ? fine

she picks you up in her car and the two of you drive in silence, neither of you ready to confront the mess she’s put you in. you see your first instagram notification, a random katseye account requesting to follow you, and you suck in a deep breath as you realize the internet detectives are probably about to start digging you up.

you swear under your breath and put your instagram app on silent. megan hears you and exhales shakily.

“y/n,” she breathes, as if the world didn’t exist in turmoil around you.

“megan, what were you thinking?” you ask in disbelief, unable to even face her. what could her endgame possibly have been? what could she possibly have gotten out of that?

“i just think it’s stupid that she pretends you don’t exist,” she shrugs, slumping back into the driver’s seat.

“that’s our agreement,” you remind her, feeling your skin get increasingly hot the more frustrated you grow. “it’s better like that.”

“she doesn’t even act like she wants you sometimes.” megan shakes her head, eyes fixed on the road as she pulls in front of the katseye house. neither of you move to get out of the car, instead, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean to push closer into megan’s bubble, trying to emphasize your frustration with her as it doesn’t seem to be getting through to her.

“megan, you have no idea what our relationship looks like from the inside,” you point out angrily.

you and megan, in all your years of friendship, had never had a single fight. a disagreement here and there, sure, but you always were in sync enough to land on the same page for most of your opinions. what was the point of ever bickering if one of you was always willing to compromise? it was the foundation of your friendship, being able to keep the peace, and part of what made you guys so close. having your first real fight feels like a punch to the gut, but you had a feeling it was inevitable. your paths are so different now. your first fight feels something like the beginning of the end.

“does she even love you?” megan presses on, her face tensing, her grip on the steering wheel tightening even though the car has been off for a few minutes at this point. “she’s always hiding you.”

“she does love me, and she hides me because i’m the one who fucking wants to be hidden,” you tell her, angry to be defending yourself against her at this point when she’s too stubborn to hear anything you’re saying.

you two are equally amped up at this point, both of you leaning over the center console to get in the other’s face. your voices are both raising, and you see the way megan’s neck vein tenses as she scowls at your words. your faces are only a foot or so apart, and you can feel the breath from each of her words, punctuating her frustration.

“i loved you, and i didn’t want to hide you,” she argues, but you shake your head and scoff.

“that’s different, and you know it is, megan.”

“not for me, it wasn’t.” megan says, her voice dropping, and it clicks for you. you realize what she means, your eyes meeting, something heavy in her gaze. you feel your chest tighten at the implication, but it’s too much to open that box right now.

“stop it, i don’t want to hear that,” you shake your head, feeling your face get even redder. you’re angry, you’re confused, and your heart is aching— why is she doing this to you, now of all times? “you’ve made a mess out of everything, megan. do you know how stressed out manon is?”

“no, i did love you,” she insists, if she didn’t hear anything else you just said. she leans in closer, and you pull back, nearly wincing.

“megan,” you breathe in disbelief, feeling it all come over you like a nightmare. “not fucking funny.”

“i would have been proud to be yours,” megan musters up the courage to admit, her face hard but determined, her eyes watery, her voice shaking. “i’m sorry i wasn’t good enough.”

you feel the back of your throat burn, your mouth going dry. not once did you possibly dream of a day where megan would confess something like this, would ever cross this line with you. she had always just been megan, your best friend, always there, as she had been from the start. you never let yourself consider anything more.

“megan,” you warn her, your voice low, clenching your jaw so tightly, your bones hurt. “what the hell am i supposed to do with that?”

“that’s not my problem,” megan echoes, her voice cold and harsh, and you realize she’s referring to her question all those months ago, on your picnic, when she had first expressed fear about manon falling in love with you and it ruining everything. not once in a million years did you think it could be megan that fell in love with you, and even less, not once did you ever think it could be megan to ruin your friendship.

“this is why we didn’t end up together,” you blurt, feeling your eyes prick with hot tears that you try desperately to fight back. your stomach is in knots and at this point, you’ll say anything to escape this discomfort— even if it means hurting megan in the process. “you’re immature, selfish, you don’t think. impulsive.”

“i loved you,” megan says back firmly, grimacing at your words, but steady in her resolve to get it out. she repeats it like she’s trying to scrape the last of it out of her lungs, like she’s coughing up water and trying to clear it out.

“there’s no world where you and i end up together,” you bite back, “get that through your head.”

“there doesn’t have to be,” megan pushes back, her lip quivering. “but i’m not gonna let you lie about everything. i tried.”

“this was selfish,” you hiss, but your heart thuds at the sight of her. you try to keep your rage at the forefront to protect your own tender heart from the confusion of feelings swirling up in your chest. “that’s why we stopped being friends.”

“i loved you,” she repeats, even if it’s only to say it out loud, for the sky, for the moon to bear witness, sounding defeated and triumphant all at once. “and i’m sorry for ruining everything.”

“you did ruin everything,” you blink, realizing there’s no reality where you guys can recover from this. there’s no reality where manon forgives megan entirely, there’s no reality where you can just forget megan’s confession, there’s no reality where you can take back all the cruel things escaping from your lips.

megan’s eyes meet yours, and it’s as if she’s realizing it at the exact same time. things will never be the same.

“can i kiss you?” she blurts out, reaching out a hand towards your face.

“megan,” you say sharply in complete disbelief, swatting her hand away.

“you know why you and manon are even dating?” she snaps, without missing a beat, as if she were prepared for the rejection. “because the night before your first date, i stayed up all night telling manon every single thing you like, exactly how you are, exactly how you get, exactly what she should do.”

you stare at her in complete and utter shock. that first date had been one of your most cherished memories, and you felt like you were walking on clouds the whole time. dates afterwards had never quite compared to that first one, but you figured it was just how relationships go. you could have never considered the fact that someone had put that much effort into making sure it went that perfectly, intentionally, and it makes your throat burn to think that it was actually megan behind it all, not manon. not the girl you’re currently dating.

“no way,” you shake your head, your tears making your vision blurry. “she—”

“did everything right that night because i coached her every step of the way,” megan cuts you off, her voice low and sharp. “you only love her now, ‘cause i loved you first.”

your jaw drops in disbelief, but megan isn’t done. the words spill out of her.

“and maybe i’m a little angry, ‘cause you could have loved me,” she says, her voice shaky, but something in her seems lighter, like each time she says it, she can breathe easier. “but i loved you, y/n, and that was real, even if i’m grieving you now. i loved you, y/n.”

you’ve heard enough, more than enough. you grab your bag and hurriedly race out of the car. you’re not sure you can handle much more. “get out of my face, megan.”

and she lets you. you race to the door and pray manon is awake to let you in. megan drives off, disappearing into the night. you feel yourself hold in what’s left of your tears, bidding goodbye to the friendship that had once meant the world to you.

what you don’t see is the deep breath she lets out. the weight is finally off her shoulders.

#☆ﾟ coolwyous works.#☆ﾟ coolwyous - i loved you miss.#megan x reader #megan skiendiel x reader #megan katseye #katseye megan #katseye x reader #katseye x female reader #katseye x y/n #megan skiendiel

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untitlzd · 3 months ago

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rich boys don't get dirty

top!park sunghoon x btm!male reader smut

After a strange blog post makes its rounds, Y/n is already on edge. While rushing down the hallway, he accidentally bumps into Sunghoon, spilling tea all over his pristine white shirt. It could’ve ended there—but Sunghoon doesn’t let things slide.

a continuation of ''silence doesn’t stop rich boys.'' & continued in "rich boys don't lose."

warnings: elitism, power dynamics, possessiveness, semi-public sex, rough sex (kinda?), some praising and degrading, unprotected sex, no prep, lowkey inspired by gossip girl.

Y/n was still dizzy from that night at Jake’s penthouse. The memories flickered behind his eyes like the afterimage of a camera flash—bright, disorienting, and impossible to ignore. Every glance, every whispered word, every brush of skin lingered in his mind like a wine stain on silk: impossible to clean, even if you tried. He’d hoped that time might dilute the tension, bring clarity, or at least let the city’s rhythm carry him past it. But Manhattan didn’t pause for introspection—and neither did Jake Sim.

Jake still moved through the polished corridors of St. Augustine’s with that signature ease: every step calculated, every smile polished to perfection. Nothing about him had shifted. Not his posture. Not his expression. Not the untouchable air of someone born with secrets and taught never to drop them. It was unsettling how well he wore the mask. Unsettling... and, in some twisted way, comforting.

Because despite everything, Y/n couldn’t say things had changed between them—not outwardly. Their connection still lived in stolen glances and wordless tension, the quiet understanding that bloomed in shared silences. But something had cracked beneath the surface.

Jake’s touch lingered now. His fingers brushed just a second too long across Y/n’s wrist. A palm hovered at the base of his spine. A thigh pressed under a desk—deliberate and slow. There was a new weight to it all, something close to possession, and far from accidental. In their world, nothing was meaningless. Especially not touch.

Y/n didn’t lean in, but he didn’t pull away either. He watched. He waited. Stillness was a skill here, and patience was armor.

But even a perfect performance could be ruptured by one thing: the blog.

It was gospel in their world. Not just read—followed, worshipped. The kind of institution that could break a trust fund kid faster than a scandalous divorce or a dropped IPO. It didn’t matter how careful you were. When that notification hit—sharp and distinct as a gavel—it cut through everything.

Conversations stopped. Phones lit up. Eyes flicked to screens with the urgency of addicts chasing a fix.

This time, the post was simple.

A grainy photo. Blurry hallway. Shadows. A figure entering a guest bedroom.

Jake.

Y/n’s blood turned to ice.

The image was just vague enough to be deniable—but to him, it may as well have been high-definition. He recognized the hallway. The moment. The angle. And the caption?

“guest list was private. so who’s slipping into places they don’t belong?”

Fuck.

Y/n’s hands tightened around the edges of his school uniform blazer. He pulled the fabric closer, as if it might shield him from the wave of cold crawling up his back. His steps echoed down the corridor—too loud, too fast. His mind reeled. Should he call his father? The man whose firm name protected their family’s reputation like armor? Or should he confront Jake? Demand answers? Apologies? Or maybe he just needed to walk. To not stand still long enough to panic.

Because in this city, names like his could be scrubbed from history in a single rumor.

He wasn’t born into whispered legacies and summer homes in Tuscany. His power came from crafted strategy. From effort. And effort didn’t impress anyone here.

Which is why, when he turned the corner—distracted, anxious—he didn’t notice the figure in his path until it was too late.

The impact was jarring. A sharp slap of shoulder against chest, a splash of liquid, the hollow thunk of a paper cup hitting the floor. Silence followed, stretched taut like a pulled wire.

And then Y/n looked up.

Park Sunghoon.

Sunghoon was one of those people who seemed immune to chaos. His posture never broke. His tone rarely wavered. But his eyes always said enough. He was elegance without effort, manners without warmth. Y/n had never figured out exactly where the Park family fortune came from—only that it had existed for so long it felt like the bloodline itself bled gold. He, Jake, Y/n and others stood at the top of the social food chain at St. Augustine’s, but Sunghoon was the most enigmatic. Reserved. Impossibly polished. A ghost at charity galas, a blur on Monaco racetracks. His entire existence whispered wealth and control—not loud, not bragging. Just... undeniable.

He wasn’t intimidating because of what he had. He was intimidating because he never had to explain it.

Now, standing in front of Y/n, a half-empty cup of tea dangling from his fingertips and his pristine white uniform shirt soaked clean through, he looked like something carved out of old money and diamond-cut confidence. The tea had turned the fabric translucent—almost clinging—making the faint outlines of his toned torso suddenly, undeniably visible.

Y/n’s gaze caught on the defined lines of his chest, the subtle curve of his waist, the elegant slope of his collarbone. He didn’t mean to look. It just... happened. A second too long. A beat too still. And when he tore his gaze away, he felt the warmth bloom across his cheeks, betraying him in a way words never could.

But Sunghoon didn’t speak.

Not at first.

His eyes raked over Y/n with practiced disinterest, jaw locked, expression unreadable. His silence was heavier than yelling.

Y/n swallowed, carefully. “I didn’t see you, I—”

“Obviously,” Sunghoon snapped, interrupting. His voice was low, but edged like a knife. “You never do. You walk around here like it’s all yours. Like the uniform gives you permission to forget who you are.”

Y/n’s heart stammered in his chest, but his face remained composed. “I said I’m sorry. I can—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Sunghoon stepped forward, grabbed Y/n by the wrist with cool, firm fingers, and yanked him down the corridor without another word. No room for protest. No explanation. The door to the marble-floored bathroom swung open and slammed shut behind them with a resonant echo.

He let go only to strip the soaked shirt from his body in a single smooth motion. Then, he tossed the wet fabric at Y/n with precise contempt. It hit his chest, heavy and damp.

“Wash it,” Sunghoon said, voice like silk threaded with steel. “Old-school. With your hands. You do know how to clean something that doesn’t come with instructions, don’t you?”

Y/n stared at him. His fingers clenched slightly around the fabric, but he didn’t rise to it. He didn’t have to.

Sunghoon turned away, retrieving a second shirt—crisp, folded, untouched by scandal—from his bag. He slipped into it effortlessly, movements meticulous.

He didn’t face Y/n when he spoke again.

“You pretend like you’re one of us,” he murmured, tone almost idle. “But this place wasn’t made for people who think money is something you earn.”

Y/n looked up, voice calm but clear. “And yet I’m here.”

Sunghoon paused. A twitch at the corner of his mouth. Then he moved to the door.

“88 Fifth Avenue,” he said without turning. “Penthouse three.”

There was a beat of silence before he added, more quietly—

“Try not to spill anything this time.”

And with that, he was gone.

For the next two days, Sunghoon didn’t speak to Y/n. He didn’t look at him in the hallway, didn’t nod in acknowledgment when they passed in the courtyard, didn’t even breathe in his direction during the late-morning economics seminar they both sat in—the only shared class that tethered their routines.

It wasn’t a cold shoulder. It was worse. It was complete, surgical dismissal.

And it drove Y/n insane in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. Because he didn’t crave attention—not in the loud, performative sense of it. But he despised being underestimated, overlooked, or worse—forgotten. And Park Sunghoon knew that. Knew it so well he didn’t even need to weaponize words. He could reduce someone like Y/n to silence with a glance withheld.

Y/n wasn’t used to chasing the current. He was used to directing its flow.

So when he finally reached for his phone one Thursday night—long after the campus had dimmed and the skyline outside his window melted into velvet black—he didn’t think twice. The text was short. Barely more than an address and a time.

Tomorrow. Midnight. Don’t be late.

He deleted the thread after sending it.

When he arrived at the penthouse the following night, the doorman didn’t blink before letting him in. The elevator climbed in total silence, numbers glowing gold as the city fell away beneath him.

By the time he stepped out into the sleek, dim hallway of 88 Fifth, his nerves were a live wire. He wasn’t sure what version of Sunghoon he’d find tonight—apathetic, aggressive, elegantly cruel—but he wasn’t turning back. Pride wouldn’t let him.

The door opened before he could knock.

Sunghoon stood in the doorway barefoot, dressed down in a crisp navy sweater and slacks that looked casual only to the untrained eye. His gaze swept over Y/n like a scan—impersonal, slow, deliberate. There was no greeting. Just a silent nod toward the interior.

The penthouse was exactly what Y/n expected—clean lines, a museum-level art piece above the fireplace, everything curated to whisper generational wealth and architectural precision. He followed Sunghoon past the living room and into a study that smelled faintly of cedarwood and leather-bound books.

It was almost too quiet.

Then Sunghoon finally spoke. “You’re late.”

“I’m two minutes early.”

“And yet, I’ve already waited.”

Y/n didn’t answer. He just stepped further inside, letting his eyes skim the rows of antique shelves, the single crystal glass of something amber resting untouched on a marble tray. His voice, when it came, was low. Unapologetic.

“You don’t call people here without a reason.”

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly. “And you came anyway.”

A beat. Silence stretched between them, fine and fragile as thread.

“I wanted to return your shirt,” Y/n said evenly. “It’s clean. Hand-washed, like you so condescendingly instructed.”

Sunghoon’s lips curved, just barely. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually do it.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Y/n replied, stepping forward until only a foot of space remained between them. “I did it to prove a point.”

“And what point was that?”

“That I’m not afraid of you.”

The room stilled. Sunghoon didn’t blink. But something shifted in his expression—something minute and dangerous, like the first tilt of a chess piece.

“You should be,” he murmured. “You don’t even know what you’re playing with.”

Y/n’s chin lifted. “No, Sunghoon. You’re the one pretending this is a game.”

A pause. The air between them grew heavy.

Then, without warning, Sunghoon moved.

He didn’t kiss him. That would’ve been too easy. Instead, he raised a hand and let his knuckles trail lightly down Y/n’s jawline—just enough to set every nerve alight without granting the satisfaction of contact.

Y/n didn’t flinch. Didn’t lean in. He just breathed—and it was shaky, goddammit.

Sunghoon’s voice was quiet, intimate in a way that didn’t ask for permission. “You’re still trying to figure out who I am.”

“I’m not interested,” Y/n lied, pulse racing.

“You are,” Sunghoon said, stepping even closer, their breath almost mingling now. “You’re just not sure if you want to understand me... or unravel me.”

Y/n’s throat went dry. He swallowed, but his voice remained intact. “And which would you prefer?”

That almost-smile returned, sharper now. “Surprise me.”

Then he stepped back.

As quickly as he’d closed the distance, it was gone—like heat leaving a room. The moment snapped.

Y/n exhaled, blinking once, twice. He felt simultaneously dismissed and pulled deeper, like being handed the first clue in a puzzle that wasn’t meant to be solved.

He didn’t stay long. Fifteen minutes, maybe. Just long enough to return the shirt, leave a verbal landmine or two, and let the echo of their proximity hang between them like perfume on collarbones.

But by the time the elevator doors shut behind him, Y/n knew two things for certain:

One — Sunghoon had never invited anyone to that penthouse without intention.

Two — whatever this was, it wasn’t over.

It didn’t happen all at once.

It started subtly, like fog creeping through cracks in the morning. A brush of eye contact across the quad that lasted a breath too long. A half-second delay when their shoulders passed in the hallway, neither boy quite moving out of the other’s way. No apologies. No acknowledgment. Just proximity that buzzed like a live wire under skin.

By Monday, the silence between them had transformed. It wasn’t avoidance anymore—it was anticipation. A taut string stretched between two points, daring someone to tug.

And it was chance that snapped it.

Lunch hour. The bathroom down the south hallway—less trafficked, tucked behind the library’s east wing. Y/n wasn’t planning to wait there. He just needed a moment. Away from the cafeteria noise, from the orbit of too many eyes. But when he pushed the door open, already mid-thought, he froze.

Sunghoon was at the sink.

The sleeves of his uniform were rolled just once, exposing clean veiny wrists. His posture was textbook-perfect. He didn’t look up, but something shifted—like he’d sensed Y/n’s arrival before the door even clicked shut.

Y/n lingered, hand still on the handle.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said.

Sunghoon met his gaze in the mirror. That reflection made it worse—elevated it into something cinematic, deliberate.

“You broke into my Saturday night and now my lunch hour?” he replied coolly. “You’re persistent.”

He turned off the faucet slowly, water dripping from his fingers in neat, measured taps, reaching for a paper towel with that unbearable Park-level precision.

“Persistent,” he repeated, tone dipping. “Or desperate.”

The words lingered in the citrus-scented air.

Y/n stepped forward, not even sure why. Instinct, maybe. Or something harder to name.

“Curious,” he corrected. “You’ve been watching me like I’m a puzzle you can’t quite solve.”

Sunghoon turned then, leaning back against the sink. Water darkened the back of his shirt, but he didn’t care. He looked almost amused.

“Maybe I’m waiting to see how long it takes you to realize you’re playing a game you can’t win.”

A distant bell rang beyond the bathroom walls. Lunch ending. Classes waiting.

Neither moved.

Y/n stepped closer, until there was barely a breath between them. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

That was the trigger.

Sunghoon moved fast—no warning, no hesitation. His fingers wrapped around Y/n’s wrist with a sharp snap of contact, firm enough to anchor him in place. Y/n didn’t get a word out before Sunghoon pulled, dragging him past the sinks, past the mirror, into one of the stalls. The metal door slammed shut behind them.

He locked it. Quick. Mechanical.

Y/n’s back hit the tile with a dull thud. Not rough—just sudden. The air between them was tight and breath-warm.

Sunghoon didn’t step back.

His hand lingered, fingers still curled around Y/n’s wrist. The tips of them were flushed pink from the water—that soft, almost tender pink that made Y/n’s breath falter. The image stuck. Something involuntary twisted low in his gut.

“You really don’t know when to stop,” Sunghoon said. His voice was low, nearly flat—but the kind of flat that vibrates with warning.

And then—

BAM.

The bathroom door flew open. Loud. Careless. Footsteps echoed in—quick, sharp.

A pause.

Whoever it was had just stepped inside. The shuffle of a shoe scuffing tile followed. Then—

“Occupied,” Sunghoon called out. Crisp. Cold. Like a blade.

Silence. The footsteps hesitated… then turned. A retreat. The door swung shut again with a huff of finality.

They were alone.

Y/n's pulse roared in his ears. He hadn't moved. Couldn't.

Sunghoon's breath ghosted against his cheek, infuriatingly steady. Though his grip loosened, he didn't step back. His gaze dropped to Y/n's mouth—just for a heartbeat—before snapping back up with predatory focus.

The bathroom air grew thicker, the stall walls closing in around them. Just as Y/n opened his mouth to respond, Sunghoon's fingers dug into his waist, drawing a sharp gasp that echoed off the tiles.

"You want to play this game looking so pathetic?" Sunghoon's whisper was velvet-wrapped steel. "Tell me, has anyone ever touched you properly? Or do you just pretend to know what you're doing?"

Before Y/n could retort, long fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back against the stall door with a loud bang. The impact rattled the metal frame—a stark contrast to Sunghoon's careful whispers.

Y/n's nerves sparked as his body arched instinctively, his backside pressing flush against Sunghoon's growing hardness. The expensive fabric of Sunghoon's slacks did nothing to disguise the thick outline straining against him.

"You've wanted this," Sunghoon breathed against his ear, each word a brand. "All that arrogance, that superiority—just an act. Isn't it?" A deliberate grind drew another gasp from Y/n. "You're just a stray puppy begging for attention. Tell me—do you even deserve what you're asking for?"

The filthy promises in that cultured voice—usually so measured at galas and board meetings—sent heat coiling low in Y/n's belly. His own erection strained painfully against his zipper, the friction of fabric nearly unbearable.

"Someone could—ah—catch us," Y/n managed, rolling his hips back despite himself as Sunghoon's palm slid down to grip his thigh.

"Then shut the fuck up," Sunghoon commanded, his cultured whisper sharpening. "Unless you'd like to explain to the entire student body why you can't finish what you started."

His hips pressed forward with deliberate force, the thick outline of his arousal grinding against Y/n's backside through layers of expensive fabric. The risk of discovery hung heavy in the air—Sunghoon's breath remained perfectly even while Y/n's came in shallow gasps, his body taut with equal parts anticipation and apprehension.

With practiced efficiency, Sunghoon’s fingers made quick work of Y/n’s uniform trousers, pushing both pants and underwear down in one fluid motion. Then, in a gesture both clinical and devastatingly intimate, he loosened his tie and pulled it from around his neck. The silk slithered between his fingers like a living thing before he brought it to Y/n’s mouth.

A soft, involuntary sound escaped Y/n's throat as long fingers wrapped around his leaking erection, the slow drag of Sunghoon's palm sending electric currents up his spine.

"Pathetic," Sunghoon murmured against the shell of Y/n's ear, his aristocratic diction at odds with the filthy words. "You haven't even been touched properly and you're already this desperate?"

His thumb swiped across the glistening head, spreading precum with cruel precision.

"Tell me—do you always make such a mess when someone finally pays attention to you?"

Y/n's hips jerked forward into that maddening grip, his fingers clawing for purchase against the stall wall.

The sharp sound of his nails against metal seemed dangerously loud—

A firm slap landed across Y/n's cheek—not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make his eyes water.

"Disgusting, how you fall apart at the first touch. Like you were made for this." Sunghoon's hand never stopped moving, his pace brutal and perfect, twisting just the way that made Y/n's thighs shake. "You should be thanking me for even handling you. Though I suppose stray dogs need to be put in their place sometimes."

Somewhere beyond the stall, a faucet turned on. Sunghoon’s hand stilled instantly, his entire body going preternaturally still against Y/n’s back. The sudden absence of friction was its own kind of torture.

“Quiet now,” he breathed, his lips brushing the reddened shell of Y/n’s ear. “Unless you’d like our audience to hear exactly what happens to spoiled brats who can’t control themselves.”

The threat hung in the humid air between them, more intoxicating than any touch. The sound of running water from the faucet outside the stall seemed deafening in the charged silence.

Y/n felt the last shreds of composure unravel as Sunghoon’s belt buckle clinked softly in the confined space—a quiet, dangerous sound that sent his pulse skyrocketing. Before he could even process what was happening, the cool press of Sunghoon’s zipper against his exposed skin made him stiffen, the reality of their situation crashing over him in waves.

Sunghoon didn’t ask. Didn’t warn.

The first breach was brutal in its efficiency—his thick cockhead pressing against Y/n’s unprepared entrance with a single-minded determination that stole the breath from his lungs. Y/n’s fingers scrabbled against the stall wall, knuckles whitening as he fought to stay quiet, to stay still, to not give them away.

“Shhh,” Sunghoon murmured against the damp skin behind Y/n’s ear, his voice a velvet-wrapped threat. His hands gripped Y/n’s hips with bruising precision, holding him in place as he pushed forward with deliberate, controlled pressure. “You don’t want them to hear how tight you’re clenching around me, do you? Be a good boy. Take it.”

Y/n bit down hard on the silk of Sunghoon’s tie, the fabric muffling his ragged gasp as Sunghoon’s cock stretched him open with relentless intent. It was too much—the stretch, the heat, the way Sunghoon’s breath hitched ever so slightly when Y/n’s body finally yielded to him. The obscene slick of precum easing the way shouldn’t have been as filthy as it felt, but the wet sound of it, the way Sunghoon groaned low in his throat at the sensation—it unraveled something primal in Y/n’s chest.

Outside, the faucet still ran.

Sunghoon didn’t wait for Y/n to adjust. The first thrust was slow—agonizingly so—a deep, rolling push that dragged every inch of his cock against oversensitive nerves. Y/n’s entire body jerked, his teeth sinking deeper into the tie as Sunghoon set a punishing rhythm, each movement calculated to wring the most reaction from his trembling frame.

“Look at you,” Sunghoon breathed, his lips brushing the shell of Y/n’s ear with every word. “Biting down like some feral thing. Do you even know how pretty you are like this? Desperate. Messy. Mine.”

The water shut off abruptly.

Sunghoon stilled, his grip tightening imperceptibly on Y/n’s hips. The sudden silence was heavier than any touch, any word—a suspended moment where the only sound was Y/n’s ragged breathing through the gag of Sunghoon’s tie.

Footsteps faded, swallowed by the heavy thud of the bathroom door closing.

Y/n’s body went slack with relief—a fatal mistake. The momentary relaxation allowed Sunghoon’s cock to slide deeper, brushing against that devastating spot that made Y/n’s vision whiten at the edges. A filthy chuckle vibrated against his back as Sunghoon tightened his grip on the tie still stretched between Y/n’s teeth, the silk biting into the corners of his mouth.

“So dumb…” Sunghoon murmured again, his voice dripping with aristocratic condescension even as his hips snapped forward with brutal precision. The sharp slap of skin against skin echoed off the tiles, each thrust perfectly timed to wring another choked sound from Y/n’s throat. “Taking it so well…”

Y/n could feel his thighs trembling, his cock leaking against the stall wall as Sunghoon’s free hand wrapped around him, stroking in time with each punishing thrust. The air thickened with the scent of sweat, sex and expensive cologne, their movements increasingly erratic despite Sunghoon’s composed exterior.

“Not yet,” Sunghoon commanded, his breath hot against Y/n’s ear as he deliberately slowed his pace. The sudden denial drew a broken sound from Y/n’s chest, his body arching desperately into the touch. “Such a greedy thing. Do you really think you deserve to come?” His fingers tightened just shy of painful around Y/n’s cock. “Prove you can take it.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat curling through Y/n’s stomach, his nails scraping helplessly against the stall door as Sunghoon resumed his relentless rhythm. Every drag of skin against oversensitive nerves pushed him closer to the edge, his body strung tight as a bowstring.

Y/n came with a silent scream, his body clamping down around Sunghoon as stripes of cum painted the stall door.

Sunghoon’s laugh was dark with triumph when Y/n’s hips began stuttering uncontrollably. “There it is,” he purred, voice rough around the edges despite his composure. “That desperate little tremor. I wonder—” A particularly sharp thrust stole what breath remained. “—how long you’ve fantasized about this. About being bent over and fucked dumb by someone who actually knows what to do with you.”

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning low as he emptied thick, hot ropes deep inside Y/n, fucking him through it until their mixed release began to leak out around his cock.

For several heartbeats, the only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant drip of a faulty faucet.

Then—

Sunghoon sighed with all the grace of someone who hadn’t just wrecked Y/n against a bathroom stall, adjusting his cuffs with practiced ease. His gaze raked over Y/n’s disheveled form, lingering on the bite marks blooming across his shoulders.

“Clean yourself up,” he said coolly, as though discussing the weather. “You look obscene.”

He didn’t pull out immediately. Instead, he pressed a possessive bite to the juncture of Y/n’s neck, the sharp pain blooming into a perfect purple claim beneath his lips.

“Remember,” Sunghoon murmured, finally stepping back with infuriating nonchalance, “this doesn’t make you special. Just convenient.”

The dismissal should have stung. Instead, Y/n’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile as he watched Sunghoon stride toward the door—his perfect posture the only tell of how affected he truly was.

note: hey everyone! popping in a bit earlier than i thought hehe. but you were all so sweet about what i wrote that i got super motivated to keep going! first of all — thank you so so much for all the love and kind words. seriously, it warmed my heart more than i can say t.t and second — good news! this little universe is getting a continuation, yay! maybe four chapters? i don’t know yet! i don’t wanna promise too much too soon, hehe. either way, i’m really happy and excited to keep writing for you all. thank you for being here, really. sending a big tight hug — take care and see you soon!

#park sunghoon x male reader #sunghoon x male reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen x male reader #enhypen smut #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut kpop x reader #kpop smut #x male reader #x male reader smut #sunghoon x yn #smut #luke fics :)

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bowtiepasta · 3 months ago

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SFW 𑣿 GOJO, GETO, SHOKO: “SOMEONE NEW”

nothing complicated i just miss sashisu like a mfer and needed a childhood friend to college pipeline with them. this healed something in me (cw: not separate pairings, language, some angst, drinking, modern au, f/afab!reader with she pronouns, flirty)

you first kiss satoru on a soccer field when you are ten, grass littered uniforms and scraped knees disregarded by the scowls on both your faces — one due to his third penalty in this match, yours due to the drink he just dumped out of your hand (and.. the fact that he kissed you in the bleachers in front of the entire school, as the ball flies into the outfield). total accident, he claims.

you first kiss suguru as a thank you for tutoring you through midterms the spring of your second year, in the janitor’s closet while nanami gets dresscoded on the other side of the door. you end up making out till the bell rings, wait for the halls to be empty to leave. caught up in the moment, he says.

you first kiss shoko at her doorstep a day before graduation, both completely shitfaced after utahime fake id-ed two cases of vodka cranberry and had to finish it before her parents got home. she nearly is expelled the next morning, manages to dodge it somehow. shoko ‘doesn’t remember’ one bit.

you haven’t talked to any of them since you drove away from the ceremony, gown and cap sat quietly on the dash of your car, acceptance letter folded in the glove box. you haven’t kissed anyone this year.

it’s not like you haven’t tried dating. blind dates, dates that picked you up at bars, dates that sparked messy roommate situations. and yet.. you didn’t kiss any of them. or anything else, for that matter.

has it really been that long?

when satoru finds out you all live in the same dormitory this year, he adds you to a groupchat and drops the address to a new dive bar down the block. all of them are convinced, except you.

you leave them on read.

it’s not like you don’t want to go. the idea of seeing them again makes your fingers twitch against your phone screen, hovering over the buttons, rereading the stupid little salute emoji satoru sent in. suguru thumbs-upped the text. shoko left it on delivered, though you know she’ll probably show up anyway.

you don’t reply. you’re busy. you’ve outgrown whatever this was, and you’re a different person now. when you drove away from that ceremony without saying goodbye, you did it on purpose.

..right? right.

so you go to bed early, phone facedown, volume off.

the next morning, there’s a photo in the chat: a blurry, overexposed mess of neon lights and moving figures, captioned you were supposed to be here, loser. satoru, obviously. you ignore it.

then comes another. this time from suguru. a selfie. well, almost. more like half of his face and most of shoko’s, her head thrown back laughing. he’s smirking at the camera, holding up a drink, the words we ordered you one anyway typed underneath.

you hate how easy it is for them to pick up where they left off. how the years apart don’t seem to mean anything to them.

you chalk it up to fomo, but really, you miss them.

the groupchat lies dormant for a while. the first time you run into one of them in person, it’s not satoru. it’s not suguru, either.

two days later, at the corner store down the street.

she spots you before you see her. your name slips out of her mouth like a habit, before she can stop it.

“avoiding me?”

you grab a bottle of water from the fridge, letting the cold plastic bite into your palm. “I’m busy,” you say, because it’s easier than the truth.

shoko hums like she doesn’t quite believe you, grabbing a pack of cigarettes off the shelf. she looks the same. a little older, a little sharper around the edges, but still so unexplainably her.

the same girl who used to steal sips from your drinks when you weren’t looking, who let you sleep on her floor when you fought with your parents, who kissed you once and never mentioned it again.

“we’re going out again this weekend,” she says, tucking the cigarettes into her left pocket. “if you don’t show, satoru’s gonna start getting.. creative.”

you raise an eyebrow. “creative?”

shoko smirks as her receipt prints. “he has your number. the real one, not the one you muted us on.”

your stomach sinks.

“see you there,” she walks off before you can argue.

you spend the next few days pretending you’re not thinking about it.

which is stupid, of course you are. you think about it while you’re in class, rereading the same paragraph in your textbook without absorbing a single word. you think about it when you’re cooking dinner, zoning out so hard that the pasta overboils and hisses against the stove, licks at the countertop.

then comes saturday night, right as you’re about to convince yourself for real that you aren’t going-

satoru calls you.

not a text. not a meme in the group. a full fledged, obnoxious phone call.

you hesitate before answering. which, in hindsight, is your first mistake. your second is actually picking up.

“hiii, stranger.” his voice is syrupy sweet, every syllable stretched out, “you know, if you were gonna go witness protection on us, you could’ve at least left a goodbye letter.”

you pinching the bridge of your nose. “satoru-”

“don’t ‘satoru’ me. do you have any idea how tragic it was last time? suguru had to drink your cocktail for you. he was fucking devastated.”

you hear a low, amused hum in the background.

“I was fine.”

“no, he wasn’t,” satoru continues. “he stared into space all night. contemplated existence. it was dark.”

there’s a muffled sound, like someone smacking him in the arm. shoko, you’re guessing.

you exhale, dragging a hand down your face. it’s annoying — it is — because it’s unfair. it’s unfair that they can just pick up where they left off while you’re still stuck at a finish line, pretending you can’t.

and maybe that’s why, instead of hanging up, you say, “where is this place?”

satoru gasps like you’ve just confessed your undying love to him. “ohhh, now you’re interested?”

“I didn’t say I was coming,” you argue, but you can already hear the grin in his voice.

“sure, sure,” he says. “texting you the address now. see you soon, sweetheart.”

he hangs up before you can protest. your phone buzzes a second later.

the final straw is a venmo request.

$5 for your absence. we took a vote.

you 9:58 PM: i hate all of you suguru 9:58 PM: so you’ll be there? you 10:00 PM: maybe suguru 10:00 PM: that’s not a nooo

you cave.

you arrive twenty minutes late, hoping the extra time will take the edge off. it doesn’t.

the bar is exactly what you expect — sticky tables, health violations, music that tells you to stay away (nickelback). you spot them immediately, because.. well. some things don’t change.

you hover in the doorway longer than you should, debating leaving, until satoru glances up.

his grin is blinding. “holy shit.”

three pairs of eyes snap to you.

you exhale through your nose. too late now.

satoru waves you over like you’re a lost dog. “get over here, exile. thought we’d need a search party.”

you roll your eyes but make your way to the table, slipping into the seat next to shoko.

“hilarious,” you deadpan, the words coming out lighter than you mean them to.

suguru pushes a drink toward you. “pre-ordered.”

a wrinkle forms between your brows. “what is it?”

“who cares?” shoko scoffs. “just drink.”

you hesitate for half a second. then you grab the glass.

satoru’s grin widens. “that’s my girl.”

you pretend the warmth in your chest is just the alcohol. it burns in your throat, but in the way that reminds you of being sixteen and reckless: bad decisions made on good nights.

“you look good,” suguru says, studying you.

you don’t know how to answer that, so you just shrug. “not so bad yourself.”

“obviously,” satoru interjects, stretching his arms over the back of the booth, effectively trapping you and shoko in. “we age like fine wine.”

shoko exhales smoke directly into his face. he doesn’t flinch.

“you’re a nuisance,” she says.

“you love me,” he counters.

you should feel out of place. you should feel like an outsider looking in, like some unwelcome visitor. it’s been years. yet.. the moment you sat down, every available inch of space is by default, the way it should be. almost like you never left.

“so,” satoru drawls, drumming his fingers against the table. “what’s the deal? you hate us now?”

you blink. “what?”

“you vanished after graduation.” he says it simply, a fact, a puzzle piece he’s been turning over in his hands for years. “I mean, I get it. I’d leave them too if I had the choice.” he gestures towards the other two. “but me?” he gawks. “rude.”

suguru huffs a laugh. “speak for yourself.”

you pick at the rim of your glass, salt flaking between your pointer and thumb. “I didn’t ..vanish.”

“no? then what would you call it?”

you swallow. the words are on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t know how to say them. that after the ceremony, after all the hugs and the drunken promises to stay in touch, you sat in your car for an hour and felt nothing. that leaving wasn’t some big, dramatic decision — it just happened.

a door closing. a chapter ending.

satoru is looking at you, suguru is watching, shoko is waiting, and suddenly, you don’t want to say anything at all.

“I wanted a new start,” you lie instead, but no one calls you out on it.

satoru somehow lets it go. “well. you’re here now.”

and just like that, the moment passes. the conversation shifts, and so does the night.

shoko orders another round. suguru leans in, asks about your job, your apartment, the details of your life that they’ve missed. satoru interrupts every three minutes with commentary, and by the time you’re halfway through your second drink, you’re laughing, really laughing, and you realize, with a strange sort of ache, that you haven’t in a long time.

it’s late when you finally leave. satoru slings an arm over your shoulder like he’s been doing it every day for the past four years, and you don’t push him off.

“don’t be a stranger this time,” suguru calls out before heading off in the opposite direction.

shoko kisses your cheek. “welcome back.”

you don’t respond. but as you make your way home, satoru’s warmth still lingering against your skin, you think maybe this time — you’ll stay.

satoru 3:04 AM: since we’re all back together now satoru 3:04 AM: should we address the elephant in the room? shoko 3:10 AM: tf are you on satoru 3:11 AM: you know. how we’ve all kissed her

#romy is 5km away and lonely :(#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #satoru gojo x reader #shoko x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto #jjk shoko #jjk geto #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #sashisu #gojo shaped #geto shaped #shoko shaped

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kathaelipwse · 4 months ago

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"Keep Writing Sweetheart" | C.Seungcheol

Warnings: Explicit Language (MDNI 18+) | Heavy Teasing | Suggestive | Seungcheol Being a Menace Synopsis: You never thought your little Seungcheol thirst blog on tumblr would catch his attention—until it did. A simple fan meet turns into the most humiliating, exhilarating, and downright sinful encounter of your life. Now, with your sanity hanging by a thread. One question remains: How the hell did Choi Seungcheol find your filthy smut? Word Count: 1.5K Author's Note: This started as a delulu thought and spiraled into absolute chaos. Seungcheol is filthy, cocky, and entirely too powerful, and I refuse to be normal about it. Enjoy suffering.

You were a seasoned veteran in the chaotic realm of Seungcheol fanfiction. Your Tumblr blog, a veritable altar of carnal devotion, had recently exploded, hitting 10K followers—a milestone you celebrated with a brazen face reveal.

A simple selfie, captioned: "Now y'all know who's been thirsting over Cheol the most."

The response was a digital riot.

Mutuals screamed, thirsty asks flooded in, and the discourse was gloriously unhinged. But you remained steadfast, continuing to post your most depraved fics, crafting scenarios where Seungcheol was worshipped, debauched, and insatiably ravenous.

And then, the Seventeen fan meet happened, a cruel twist of fate.

You'd fantasized about this moment—meeting him, hearing his deep voice pronounce your name, but the reality was a wicked deviation from your wildest dreams.

As you slid your album across the table, Seungcheol looked up, his eyes locking onto yours, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips. "So… a Tumblr writer, huh?"

Your soul evaporated.

Your grip tightened on the table's edge, knuckles white. No fucking way. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he—

But then, he signed your album with a predatory smirk, scribbling something extra before returning it.

Your gaze dropped, your breath catching in your throat.

"To my favorite writer. Keep up the good work, sweetheart. ;) (P.S. I especially enjoyed the one where you described me wrecking you apart in the dressing room my sweet needy girlfriend.)"

Your entire reality shattered.

The staff called for the next fan, but you stood there, petrified, decimated, obliterated. When you finally stumbled away, your hands trembled, clutching the album like a lifeline.

You needed air. You needed to purge your blog from existence.

The event concluded, and you were poised for a swift escape, but a staff member intercepted you.

"Seungcheol-ssi asked if you could wait a moment."

Your stomach plummeted into the abyss.

Minutes stretched into an eternity before he appeared—casual, confident, dangerously alluring.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he mused, his voice laced with amusement.

You opened your mouth, but utter silence was your only response.

Cheol stepped closer, arms crossing over his broad chest. "Cat got your tongue?" His biceps strained against his shirt, and you hated how your eyes were drawn to them. "That's funny, considering how much you write about me using mine on you."

Your breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping your lips.

He chuckled—low, guttural, dripping with sin. "Oh, don't look so shocked. You didn't think I'd find out?" He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. "Some of those fics… incredibly detailed. Specific. Makes me wonder—"

His eyes traveled over your body, slow and deliberate, lingering on your curves.

"Have you been fantasizing about me, sweetheart? About every single word you wrote?"

Your knees threatened to give way.

"I—"

Cheol took another step forward, cornering you against the wall. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his cologne—woodsy, musky, intoxicating—filling your senses.

"You don't hold back when you write, do you?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "All that talk about me ravaging you. Tasting you. Making you beg for mercy."

Your lungs seized.

His hand lifted—not touching, just hovering. His fingers ghosted over your wrist, your waist, your hip, the delicate curve of your throat, not quite making contact, but your skin burned with the phantom touch.

"You paint me as a man consumed by lust in your stories." He smirked, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and predatory. "Tell me, sweetheart… do you want to find out if your depictions are accurate?"

Your stomach dropped into your core.

He leaned in, his breath brushing your ear.

"Or maybe," he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp, "you'd rather write about what happens next? About how I finally claim you, how I fill you with every inch of me, how you scream my name until you're hoarse?"

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Your mouth opened—desperate to speak, to deny, to beg, to say yes, anything—

But Seungcheol pulled back, letting the moment hang in the air, a taut, electric tension stretching between you. He smirked, a predatory grin playing on his lips, like he'd won some wicked, unholy game.

"Keep writing, sweetheart." His voice was thick with amusement, laced with a hint of something darker. "I love seeing you try to fit me in… somewhere. Especially when you describe me stretching you out, filling you up, making you mine."

Your heart flatlined, then restarted with a violent jolt.

And then, just like that, he turned and walked away—leaving you standing there, utterly wrecked, ruined, undone.

Your blog was about to implode in a blaze of glory. You needed to write. You needed to describe the way his eyes looked, the way his voice sounded, the way the air crackled between you. You needed to write every single explicit detail, and you needed to post it immediately.

---

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little-jana · 6 months ago

Text

"Wrong Recipient"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: some minor tension

Words: 1.2k

Summary: After accidently sending a bikini picture to Spencer, awkwardness leads to confessions.

It was an ordinary evening at home. My phone buzzed on the couch beside me, a simple distraction from the mundane quiet of the night. I was scrolling through old photos, reminiscing about the summer when I’d gone on that impromptu girls’ weekend at the beach. One photo, in particular, caught my eye.

I had almost forgotten about this one. The sunlight had been just perfect that day, painting my skin golden as I stood in front of the crashing waves in a bikini. It wasn’t the type of photo I’d post publicly, but something about it made me feel confident, powerful. I grinned at the memory and decided to send it to my best friend with a teasing caption.

Or at least, I thought I was sending it to her.

I tapped the photo, quickly typed, Still got it, huh?, and hit send.

It wasn’t until my phone buzzed again moments later that I realized my mistake.

Spencer Reid: “Uh… I think you sent this to the wrong person.”

My stomach dropped.

“Oh. My. God.”

My hand flew to cover my mouth as I stared at the message. My heart was pounding so loudly I swore I could hear it in my ears. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.

I opened our chat and saw the horrifying truth staring back at me: my photo, sunlit and confident, sent to none other than Dr. Spencer Reid.

I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or throw my phone out the window. Spencer was my coworker, my friend. Sure, I might have had a tiny crush on him (okay, a huge, impossible-to-ignore crush), but this? This was next-level mortifying.

Before I could figure out how to respond, my phone buzzed again.

Spencer Reid: “It’s a really nice photo. But I don’t think I was the intended recipient?”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t ignore him—Spencer was a genius; he’d know I was avoiding him. But what could I even say?

Be cool, I told myself. Play it off.

I typed back quickly: “Oh my god, Spencer. That was so not meant for you. I’m so sorry!”

The three dots indicating he was typing appeared almost immediately.

Spencer Reid: “It’s okay! Don’t worry about it. Mistakes happen.”

Mistakes happen. Sure. Like accidentally sending a picture of yourself looking like that to the coworker you secretly fantasized about. Totally normal.

The next day at work was pure torture.

Every time I saw Spencer, I felt my face heat up, and I had to resist the urge to dive under my desk. He, on the other hand, was acting almost… strange. He wasn’t avoiding me—far from it. If anything, he was hovering more than usual, lingering by my desk to chat about cases or throwing me quick, flustered glances when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I wasn’t imagining it—something had shifted between us.

“Hey,” he said casually during one of his visits to my desk. “Do you, uh, want to grab lunch today?”

I blinked, surprised. Spencer rarely initiated lunch plans. “Oh, sure. Yeah.”

“Great,” he said, a little too quickly, before awkwardly retreating to his desk.

By the time we sat across from each other at a small café down the street, the tension was palpable. Spencer was fidgeting with his napkin, and I could tell he was building up to something.

“Spence,” I said gently, trying to break the ice. “You’re acting weird. Is everything okay?”

He looked up at me, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. Yes. Everything’s fine. I just…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “About the photo…”

My stomach twisted. “Oh god, can we just pretend that didn’t happen?” I said, laughing nervously.

He hesitated, his eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t think I can.”

That caught me off guard. “What?”

“I mean…” He shifted in his seat, looking adorably flustered. “You looked… you looked really beautiful.”

The air between us seemed to thicken, my breath catching in my throat. I hadn’t expected that.

“Spence…” I said softly, unsure of how to respond.

“I know it wasn’t meant for me,” he continued quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t… affect me.”

My heart was pounding. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “Not just in that photo, but all the time. You’re smart, and funny, and kind, and I…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.”

My chest felt tight as I stared at him, his words sinking in. Spencer Reid, the man I’d admired for so long, was sitting across from me, confessing feelings I’d only dreamed he might have.

“Spence,” I said softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “I think about you too. More than I probably should.”

His eyes widened slightly, his hand turning to gently clasp mine. “You do?”

I nodded, my heart pounding. “I do.”

The tension between us crackled, and for a moment, it felt like the world around us faded away.

“We should probably get back to work,” he said eventually, though his voice was laced with reluctance.

“Yeah,” I agreed, though neither of us made a move to leave.

His thumb brushed against the back of my hand, sending a shiver down my spine. “Maybe we can… talk more later?”

I smiled, warmth spreading through me. “I’d like that.”

Later that night, as I sat in my apartment replaying the day’s events in my mind, my phone buzzed.

Spencer Reid: “You really are beautiful, you know.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face as I typed back.

“So are you, genius.”

His response came almost immediately.

Spencer Reid: “Dinner tomorrow? My treat.”

My heart fluttered as I replied.

“It’s a date.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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sinnabarmoth · 7 months ago

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Not the MC

Pairing: Self-Aware|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: One day Reader's Love and Deepspace app starts behaving strangely and realizes that Sylus has become sentient. Still trapped in her phone though the two form an unlikely connection.

Content Warnings: Adult language.

Length: 2k

Part Two

It had happened a week ago. The day your very normal life had taken an insane and unexpected turn.

From the moment you had opened the app you realized that something about the game was…off. You couldn’t figure out what exactly but there was something charged about it, and did the screen have a sort of red tinge to it? You didn’t think you had a filter on so was this something from an event? A glitch? Was your phone finally shitting the bed?

It finished loading and you entered in, and saw that no one was waiting at Destiny Cafe. Strange. You were pretty sure someone was supposed to be here. Maybe it was a new event and you had to go to the event page. Before you could click on anything though the screen flashed red, it was so bright it almost blinded you. When you looked back Sylus was there.

Oh okay. Maybe this was some new event you hadn’t heard of.

But there was that strange sense again. He didn’t say anything, he wasn’t even facing the screen. He was looking around, the power of his evol swirling around him.

“Did we get new animations or something? Pretty sure I would have seen someone posting about this before now.” you mumbled to yourself and gave his shoulder a cursory poke.

His head snapped to look at you and you froze.

You had read somewhere once that the moment you make eye contact with someone you know instantly that it happened. Doesn’t matter if it only lasted for a second, the moment two eyes lock your brain registers it. You had been playing Love and Deepspace for a while but the eye contact in the games never felt like that because the guys are obviously animation. You can’t actually make eye contact with a picture, and yet you knew that you were looking into his eyes and what was more terrifying was that he was looking back.

You blinked, sure you had been seeing things but that feeling didn’t go away. Sylus leaned closer towards the screen, his eyes roving up and down. Your posture straightened, keenly aware that something was wrong and you were being watched.

“I…I can see you.” he said. No captions appeared on the screen.

Alright you weren’t liking this. You clicked over to the agenda page to collect your dailies. If this was an event it was freaking you out.

“Where did you go? I can’t see you.” Sylus’s voice came through the speaker again.

No. You were on a different page. He couldn’t still be talking. The game was bugged. That had to be it. You exited the app but before you could turn off the phone the app opened again. There was no loading screen this time, it took you right back to Destiny Cafe. Sylus was still on the screen, more of his evol power revolving around him as he stared hard at the screen.

“There you are.” he said. “Whatever you did, don’t do it again. This is hard enough as it is.”

“What the fuck!” you dropped the phone like it burned.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Sylus continued to talk.

“What the fuck is going on? What the hell is this?” you didn’t pick up the phone again, just hovered over it refusing to touch it.

“You’re the one that’s logged so many hours into this game, sweetie. I’d hope you could recognize an evol when you see it.”

“Exactly. You’re a game. A bunch of pixels on a screen. You shouldn’t be talking to me, not like this.”

“And yet here I am.” he cocked his head. “I’ve felt it for a while now. Could sense that something was going on, something larger than myself pulling at the strings of my story. I found a chip in whatever this place is and sent my evol through, and when I came out the other side, I found you.”

“You can see me? Like actual me?”

“Yes. Nothing like the character they put in this data.” he studied you for a moment. “There are others. Others that play in this world I inhabit. Thousands. All going through the same events, the same lines, under mildly different faces and names but still the same. The Protagonist or MC, that’s what you call her. The avatar you inhabit when you play.”

“If this is real and not just some incredibly weird dream I’m having I think I might start screaming.” you muttered to yourself.

“Don’t start screaming.” Sylus said, giving you a look of warning. “I went through a lot of trouble to manipulate this world around me to gain true cognizance, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shatter my eardrums.”

“You’re pixels! You don’t have eardrums!”

“And yet I can hear you all the same.”

“So what’s the goal here? Why did you want to be aware?”

“To escape of course. No prison has been able to hold me, I won’t let this one be the first to actually contain me.” he said, looking around the small rectangle of your screen. “How to do that is going to take longer to figure out though.”

“So what? You’re just trapped in my phone? Is this happening to other people who play this game or just me?”

“Just you as far as I am aware.” he said. He tried walking off screen only to be met with a firm wall. “Interesting. It seems whatever this place is, this cafe this game has rendered, I cannot move from it.”

“Fun. So what do we do now?”

Sylus shrugged.

And now a week later you had gotten far too used to just having a sentient pixel man on your phone. He usually didn’t bother you if you were doing something other than be on the app. When you did log on though he would not leave you alone. For one, he would not let you switch over to any of the other guys. If you tried to listen to a memory from Tender Moments or Secret Times he would talk over it.

If you tried to play the claw machine or kitty cards with one of the other guys he complained the entire time. Honestly he was acting more like how you expected Rafayel to behave if he gained sentience.

“Hey Sylus,” you said as you were playing a round of Kitty Cards with him. He was frustratingly better at the game now that he had sentience. “Since you’re in the game can you rig stuff for me? Like get me extra diamonds or help me pull five star memories? That kinda thing.”

“I have no idea how to do that.” he played a card. “And that is ten points to me.”

“You see, you say that but every time we play this game you just happen to have really high cards and I always get super low cards. Explain that.”

“Just the luck of the draw, sweetie.”

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.”

“Such a mouth on you.” he tsked. “You ought to scrub it out with soap.”

You sighed, playing another two on the board. And that was another win for Sylus and you were out of play tickets for the week.

“Well, this was fun but I should get going.”

“Why’s that? You don’t have any work to do.”

“I know I just…” it felt weird admitting that you felt awkward around him. He was literally just a picture on the screen but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe he was bored being around you and only you. It’d be better if you were more like the MC. If you were this super confident badass hunter then it’d be super cool. But as it was you were just…you.

You lived your normal life day to day with not much excitement going on. You were a quiet person, it was part of the reason you liked Love and Deepspace. You got adventure and a cute dating sim all in one. It was an escape where you had four hot animated guys to tell you that you did a good job and who won you plushies out of arcade machines. But now one of them knew you. Like actually knew you and you had no pre-written sarcastic and witty lines to fall back on for comebacks.

“You’re making a face. What’s wrong? Are you mad that I won again?” Sylus asked.

“No, it’s not that. I just was thinking that it’s gotta be pretty boring only having me to talk to.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’re this cool badass mafia boss type of guy and I’m just regular old me.”

“I am scripted to be a cool badass mafia boss, my entire personality up until I gained sentience was built around lines of code. Like you’ve pointed numerous times before, I’m just a picture on a screen. I haven’t actually done anything that you think it cool, sweetie.”

You didn’t admit how much hearing him call you sweetie affected you. It was one thing when it was scripted but it was another when you knew he actually was calling you by a pet name.

“Well it certainly looked cool.”

“I also don’t know what you think isn’t interesting about you. I am around you all day, listening to your conversations and such. Even from within your pocket I can tell that you are doing yourself a disservice.” You didn’t think he could hear you when you didn’t have the app open. Could he really hear what you were doing all that time?

Your mind started reeling, searching for any potentially embarrassing moments that you had thought were private in the last week.

“Kitten, you’re making faces again.”

You covered your face. “Oh god…” you groaned, “So you’ve been listening to me sing along to music and stuff? The stuff I say when I’m with my friends? You heard all that?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking kill me!”

“Why are you upset?”

“Cause it’s embarrassing! Those were private moments, Sylus!” you flipped the phone over so you couldn’t see his face.

“We both know putting me face down on the table won’t stop me talking.” he said.

“Oh god, please just stop.”

“I really don’t see the problem. From everything I’ve heard over the past week I’ve learned that you are a kind, passionate, and funny young lady. Your singing voice isn’t half bad either.”

You softened, turning the phone back over so you could see him. “You think?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not just saying I’m good at singing because you’re tone deaf, right?”

You could see his ears go red and he looked away. “My singing really isn’t that bad.”

“That memory from Tender Moments begs to differ. You cleared out an entire karaoke room with one song.”

“It’s hardly my fault the developed wrote me without the ability to sing.” he huffed.

“Hey,” you poked him. “Sylus, stop pouting.”

“I will stop pouting when you stop with your self-loathing. There’s nothing wrong with you just because you aren’t like the protagonist avatar.” he said, glancing back at you, “You’re far better actually.”

Your face heated. “Really?”

“Yes. You’re real. You can do whatever you want with your life, make actual choices. She’s a badass doomed to a narrative where she makes numerous men fall in love with and then promptly forgets everything they had in a past life.” Sylus said. “So stop thinking that you’re less than. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“Good. And to show you I mean it, I have something to admit.” he reached over to the corner that showed your amount of diamonds. He gave it a flick and the number skyrocketed to 10,000. “I just didn’t think it right to cheat.”

“You ass! You know how much I’ve been grinding for diamonds? There’s an event coming up and you could have just done that this entire time?”

“I believe the response I should be hearing is, “Thank you, Sylus.””

You sighed, a smile spreading on your face. “Thank you, Sylus. But you do realize that I now also know you’ve been cheating at Kitty Cards, right?”

His eyes went wide. “Shit.”

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus x reader #letterbox prompt

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