iris

stalkerau g!pmei obsessivemei femreader smut.

wc: 3.1k

masterlist prev

the invasion of your space happened in increments, so gradual that you almost convinced yourself it was normal. first, it was just the couch. she would show up at seven, eight, nine o'clock, always with something a meal, a candle, a book she thought you'd like and she would simply settle into your living room as if she had been there all along. you stopped asking her to leave because the confrontation felt more exhausting than the intrusion itself. you began to accept her presence as a strange, inevitable weather pattern.

then came the night of the thunderstorm.

it was one of those violent, summer storms that made the windows rattle in their frames and turned the sky a bruised purple. you woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of thunder rolling across the city, feeling exposed and raw. the apartment felt too large, too empty, and the shadows in the corners seemed to stretch toward you.

you rolled over to reach for your phone, but you didn't hit your nightstand. you hit something warm. something breathing.

your heart stopped. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as you realized you weren't alone in your bed. you slowly turned your head, your eyes widening in the darkness.

megan was there. she wasn't sitting on the couch or waiting in the living room. she was curled up beside you, her body pressed against yours. she had clearly come up while you were asleep, slipping into your bedroom like a ghost. she had wrapped herself in your sheets, her hand resting on your waist, her breathing steady and calm.

"m-megan..” you whispered, your voice cracking. "what are you—what are you doing here?"

she didn't startle. she didn't flinch. she simply opened her eyes, those dark, hungry eyes that seemed to catch what little light filtered through the curtains. she didn't look guilty; she looked peaceful.

"you were having a nightmare, princess” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. she reached out, her hand finding yours under the covers. her grip was firm, possessive. "i could hear you stirring. i could hear you crying out in your sleep. i couldn't let you be alone."

"you can't just you can't sleep here, megan. this is my bed. this is my room." you tried to push her away, but she didn't budge. she was like a stone, immovable and heavy.

"it's our space now, y/n" she said, her tone shifting from sleepy to that terrifyingly calm certainty. she pulled your hand up to her lips, kissing your knuckles with slow, deliberate pressure. "don't you feel safer like this? you don't have to worry about locks anymore. you don't have to worry about the dark. i'm here to guard you."

you wanted to scream, to bolt from the bed and run out into the storm, but something held you back. it was the terrifying intimacy of it. she was touching you, holding you, claiming you in the most vulnerable moment of your life. and despite the horror, despite the violation, there was a sick, twisted part of your brain that felt a surge of relief. the loneliness that had been gnawing at you for weeks the isolation of being hunted was suddenly gone, replaced by this overwhelming, suffocating presence.

she moved closer, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against her. she was smaller than you, but she felt powerful, her body heat seeping into yours until you couldn't tell where you ended and she began.

"just sleep." she whispered into your hair. "i'll stay awake. i'll watch over you. i'll make sure nothing hurts you."

you lay there in the dark, distraught. you could feel her heartbeat against your back, steady and relentless. you could smell her that faint lavender scent mixed with something uniquely hers. you knew you should fight her. you knew this was wrong. but as the thunder rolled outside and the rain lashed against the glass, you found yourself relaxing into her touch.

you closed your eyes, letting the darkness swallow you.

over the next few weeks, the couch became obsolete. megan stopped leaving. she moved her things in a few changes of clothes, her laptop, her books and she claimed the bed as her own. she became a permanent fixture in your morning routine, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes, the last thing you felt before you fell asleep.

she started making decisions for you. she'd decide what you wore, what you ate, what time you went to bed. she'd frame it as care:

‘you need more iron, y/n, eat this.'

'that dress is too thin for tonight, wear this instead.'

'you're too tired to go out tonight, stay here with me.'

she was building a world for two, and she was slowly, methodically, erasing everything else. your friends stopped calling because you stopped answering. your family stopped visiting because you always had an excuse you were tired, you were busy, you needed rest. megan had convinced you that they didn't understand you, that they were distractions from the 'real' connection you had found.

—

the library was a battlefield of small, petty cruelties. you had spent eight hours pretending to be a functional adult, smiling at patrons who didn't see you, ignoring the way your shoulders burned from tension, and maintaining a professional detachment that felt thinner with every passing hour. but the breaking point wasn't a customer or a supervisor. it was a child.

a six year old boy, screaming in a tantrum because he couldn't have a specific sticker, had grabbed a first edition a fragile, cloth bound volume that you had spent weeks preserving and torn it clean down the spine. the sound of the binding cracking had felt like it was happening inside your own skull. you had watched, frozen, as the pages fluttered to the floor like wounded birds, the child's mother offering nothing but a distracted apology before dragging him away.

by the time you locked up and walked toward your apartment, your hands were shaking. the frustration was a physical weight in your chest, a hot, throbbing pressure that made you want to scream at the sky. you felt raw, exposed, and utterly alone in a world that seemed determined to break everything fragile.

you fumbled with your keys, your vision blurring with frustrated tears. when you finally pushed the door open, the familiar scent of lavender hit you immediately. it wasn't comforting anymore; it felt like a claim. it felt like the walls themselves were breathing her name.

"you're late, y/n."

megan was there, sprawled on the couch in your living room, a glass of wine balanced precariously on the cushion beside her. she looked up at you with those dark, knowing eyes, reading the tension in your jaw and the way your breathing came in ragged gasps before you even said a word.

"I'm fine," you snapped, though the lie tasted like ash. you dropped your bag on the floor and headed toward the bedroom, needing to escape, needing to hide.

"you're not fine. you're vibrating with rage." megan stood up, her movements fluid and feline. she followed you into the bedroom before you could shut the door. "tell me. what happened?"

"nothing happened. just work. everything is just stupid." you threw yourself onto the bed, face down in the pillow. you wanted to cry, but you were too angry to let the tears come. you just wanted to disappear into the mattress.

then you felt the bed dip. she was behind you. she didn't ask permission; she never did anymore. she simply crawled over you, her body a warm, solid weight that pinned you to the sheets. her hands found your shoulders, kneading the knots there with surprising strength.

"let it out, sweetheart," she whispered against the shell of your ear. "don't hold it in. give it to me."

"I hate it there," you choked out, the words finally breaking free. "I hate how people treat things. I hate how nothing matters. I hate that I have to pretend."

"I know," she murmured. "I know you do. That's why you don't have to pretend here. With me, you can be as broken as you want."

she began to kiss your neck, her lips hot and insistent. it wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a claiming one. her teeth grazed your skin, leaving faint marks that would surely be there tomorrow evidence of her ownership. you found yourself arching into her touch despite yourself. the anger was still there, but it was beginning to transmute into something else, something darker and more desperate.

she pulled away just enough to roll you onto your back. your hair was mussed, your makeup smudged from the day's stress, but she looked at you like you were something sacred. she reached down, unbuttoning your work blouse with steady fingers, exposing the pale skin beneath.

"you're so tense," she said, her voice dropping to a husky register. "let me help you relax."

she slid your clothes off with practiced efficiency, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the room before she replaced it with her own heat. she moved down your body, her mouth trailing fire across your stomach, your hips, your thighs. you gasped when her hands found you, her fingers sliding between your legs to find the slick evidence of your arousal.

you were already wet, the adrenaline of your anger bleeding directly into desire. you needed something to ground you, something to drown out the memory of that torn book and the screaming child.

"please," you whimpered, your fingers tangling in her hair as she pressed closer.

she didn't need to be told twice. she shifted lower, parting your thighs wide. she didn't use her hands this time; she wanted to be closer. when her tongue first made contact with your clit, you let out a sound that was half sob, half moan.

she was relentless. she buried her face between your legs, her mouth warm and wet as she began to lap at you. she wasn't just performing oral sex; she was consuming you. she seemed to drink in your reactions, her tongue working with a focused, almost obsessive intensity.

then she moved deeper. she pressed her face against you, her tongue sliding between your folds, exploring every crease, every sensitive inch of your swollen flesh. she latched onto you, her mouth creating a vacuum that pulled at your very core.

"oh god, fuck, megan " you cried out, your hips bucking involuntarily against her face.

she didn't pull away. she gripped your thighs harder, holding you still so she could work more thoroughly. she found the sensitive bundle of nerves at your entrance and began to suck on them through your lips, her tongue flicking in rhythmic, maddening patterns. you felt like you were unraveling, like the anger that had been coiled tight in your chest was being forcibly extracted through your cunt.

she was drunk on you. you could hear it in the wet sounds of her mouth, in the way her breathing became ragged as she tasted you. she seemed to be savoring the salt and the musk, her nose pressing into your pubic hair as she worked to drive you over the edge.

the orgasm came like a freight train. it wasn't a gentle wave; it was a violent convulsion that left you gasping for air, your back arching off the bed. you screamed her name into the empty room as waves of pleasure crashed through you, each one more intense than the last.

she stayed there through it all, refusing to let go. even as your muscles began to twitch and relax, she continued to lap at you, cleaning you with a slow, reverent thoroughness that felt more intimate than the act itself. she wanted every drop of your release.

when she finally pulled away, your legs felt like jelly. you couldn't move. you could only lie there, staring at the ceiling as your heart hammered against your ribs. she crawled back up the bed, settling herself between your thighs, her face flushed and damp.

she pulled the duvet over both of you, tucking you against her side. you felt small, fragile, and utterly spent. the anger was gone, replaced by a hollow, aching vulnerability.

"see?" she whispered, kissing your temple. "everything is better now. everything is quiet."

you closed your eyes. you knew that this wasn't healing. you knew that she wasn't fixing the world for you; she was simply making you too exhausted to care about it anymore. she was feeding you a drug made of pleasure and dependency, ensuring that when you finally stopped fighting, you would have nowhere else to go.

as sleep began to claim you, you felt her hand slide down beneath the covers again, her fingers tracing lazy circles over your stomach, possessive even in the aftermath.

"I've got you," she promised into the darkness. "I've always got you."

you drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep, the kind that only comes when the body has been pushed to its absolute limit. your breathing became slow and rhythmic, your limbs going slack against the mattress. in your mind, the library, the torn pages, and the screaming child had finally faded into a dull, distant static. you felt safe. you felt cared for.

beside you, megan remained wide awake.

she watched you in the dim light filtering through the curtains. she watched the way your chest rose and fell, the way your lips parted slightly as you slept, and the way your skin glowed faintly in the shadows. to anyone else, you looked peaceful. to her, you looked like a masterpiece that she was still in the process of claiming.

she couldn't stop. the taste of you was still coating her tongue, a heady, intoxicating reminder of how easily you had surrendered. the sight of your flushed skin and the way you had buckled under her touch had ignited something feral inside her. she didn't want to sleep; she wanted to prolong the feeling of having you completely undone.

slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb your unconscious state, she slipped a hand beneath the duvet.

she reached down to herself, her fingers wrapping around her cock as she began to stroke. she kept her movements silent, her eyes locked on your face. every slide of her hand was punctuated by the image of your hips bucking against her mouth moments ago. she imagined you were awake, imagining you were watching her, watching her claim you even while you slept.

her breathing became shallow. she leaned closer to you, her body hovering just inches above yours, close enough to feel the heat bleeding off your skin. she watched the way your thighs parted slightly in sleep, exposing the dampness she had left behind.

the arousal was overwhelming, a building pressure that made her vision blur. she imagined marking you again, not with kisses or teeth this time, but with something more permanent, something that would stay on your skin long after she had stepped away.

as she neared the edge, she shifted slightly, positioning herself above you. she didn't want to touch you directly not yet but she wanted to leave her mark.

she let out a strangled, silent gasp as her climax hit. she arched her back, her muscles locking as she came hard. she didn't pull away. instead, she allowed herself to spill over you, the hot, thick evidence of her release painting across your stomach and spreading down toward your hip. she watched with undisguised fascination as the white streaks glistened against your pale skin in the moonlight, a physical brand that tied her to you while you were unaware.

she stayed like that for several minutes, panting silently, watching the way your body reacted to the unfamiliar heat settling on your skin. you didn't wake. you only shifted slightly in your sleep, a small sound escaping your throat.

then, she reached for her phone on the nightstand.

she turned the brightness down to the lowest possible setting, the screen casting a faint blue glow over her features. she positioned herself carefully, angling the camera downward. she wanted to capture the contrast: your serene, sleeping face, the vulnerability of your exposed body, and the messy, undeniable proof of her possession spreading across your flesh.

click.

the shutter sound was muted, but the flash was non existent. she checked the image immediately. it was perfect. it was raw, intimate, and terrifying. it was the final piece of the collection she had been building since the first day she saw you in the library.

she opened her hidden folder, a digital vault of obsession that no one would ever find. she scrolled past the photos of you walking to work, the shots of you through your apartment window, and the blurry images of you sleeping from weeks prior. she tapped the new photo, bringing it to the center of the screen.

she stared at it for a long time, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. it wasn't just a photo; it was a trophy. it was proof that she had moved past the shadows and into the very fabric of your life.

she saved the image, locked the phone, and set it aside. then, she crawled back under the covers, sliding close to you once more. she pressed her forehead against your shoulder, inhaling your scent, feeling the faint stickiness of her own cum drying against your skin.

she closed her eyes, finally allowing herself to drift off, wrapped in the absolute certainty that you were finally hers.

𓂃

(me saying you did a great job btw)

yes cause i don’t know how to respond

(thank you btw)

..

monsterhighau puppymei femreader smut.

wc: 1.1k

⌞ one year of monster high ⌝

masterlist

the studio lights are blindingly bright, but you can barely focus on the cameras because you're too busy looking at her. megan has been vibrating with excitement since she got the call about the monster high concept, and now that she's actually standing there in the huli jing costume, she looks absolutely breathtaking.

the costume is intricate, all flowing silks and delicate details that make her look like something out of a dream, but the way she carries herself is still so distinctly *her*. she's bouncing on the balls of her feet, her eyes bright with that pure, unfiltered joy that makes you want to protect her and ruin her all at once.

"you look so adorable, puppy.." you tease, leaning down to whisper in her ear as the makeup artist finishes a final touch on her cheek. you watch the way her ears would practically perk up if she actually had them. she flushes a pretty pink, giggling and hiding her face behind her hands.

"s-stop it baby, i'm supposed to be intimidating and mystical..” she protests, though there's no real conviction in her voice. she's too happy, too eager to please, too caught up in the magic of the moment.

"mystical? you? you're just a little puppy in a pretty outfit." you murmur, brushing a stray hair away from her forehead. you spend the entire day like this, playing with her. every time she nails a pose, you're there to praise her. every time she glances at you for approval during a break, you give her that smug, knowing smile and tell her how perfect she is. you call her cute, you call her precious, you treat her like the most precious thing on the set, and you can see the effect it has on her.

she's getting bolder, her movements becoming more fluid, more desperate for your attention. she's chasing after your praise like it's the only thing keeping her grounded.

by the time the director calls wrap for the day, megan is exhausted but still buzzing. she practically drags you toward her dressing room, her fingers interlaced tightly with yours. the moment the door clicks shut behind you, the atmosphere shifts. the playful energy that's been simmering all day suddenly boils over.

the room is dim, lit only by the warm glow of the vanity lights. megan doesn't even wait to take off the costume fully before she's moving toward you. she's breathing fast, her chest rising and falling beneath the delicate fabric. she looks up at you through her lashes, her expression no longer just innocent and excited. there's something hungry there now, something needy that she's been holding back since you started teasing her.

"you've been doing that a-all day.." she whines, her voice dropping an octave. she steps into your space, forcing you back until your thighs hit the edge of her vanity. "calling me puppy.. telling me how cute i am. y-you think it's funny, don't you?!"

“well i think you're adorable." you respond calmly, though your own pulse is starting to quicken. you reach out, your hands finding her waist, feeling the soft fabric of the costume beneath your palms. "and.. i think you're doing such a good job for me."

that's the breaking point. she makes a small, pathethic sound in the back of her throat and suddenly she's climbing you. she straddles your lap, her knees digging into the cushion of the chair as she settles herself over your thighs. the costume hiked up around her hips, revealing the pale skin of her thighs. she's trembling slightly, her hands gripping your shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

"then prove it!" she whimpers, the sound breaking from her as she presses her forehead against yours. "don't just tell me. prove you think i'm good."

you don't need to be told twice. you shift your grip, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck while the other settles firmly on her hip. you pull her closer, forcing her to feel the heat radiating off your body. she arches into you immediately, a soft moan escaping her lips as she grinds her hips down against yours. she's so sensitive, so reactive to every touch, exactly like the puppy you've been teasing all day.

"you're being such a good girl for me, mei.." you murmur against her lips, tasting the sweetness of her breath. you feel her shiver violently at the praise. she loves it. she lives for it.

you begin to undress her with slow, deliberate movements, savoring the way she whines every time your fingers brush against sensitive skin. the costume comes off in pieces, revealing the soft curves beneath. she's flushed from head to toe, her skin warm and damp. when you finally expose her to the air, she's already slick, her body betraying just how badly she's been wanting this.

you guide her onto the bed, but she won't stay still. she wants to be close to you, wants to feel your hands on her at all times. she ends up back on you, riding your thigh as you sit on the edge of the mattress, her small hands wandering over your chest, her hips moving in slow, torturous circles. every time she moves, she makes these tiny, pathetic little whimpers that drive you insane. she's completely undone, her usual confidence melted away into pure, unadulterated need.

"p-please.. baby, please" she begs, her head lolling back as you stroke her. she's not even asking for anything specific anymore; she's just begging for the sensation, for the validation of your touch.

you decide to give her exactly what she wants. you take control, turning her over and positioning her just right, making sure she knows exactly how much power you have over her pleasure. you slowly pushed 2 fingers up in her, focused entirely on her reactions, on the way her back arches when you hit the right spot, on the way her voice cracks when you whisper filthy things in her ear. you praise her through it all, telling her how beautiful she looks, how well she's taking you, how good she feels.

the climax comes fast for her, a desperate, shaking release that leaves her sobbing your name into your neck. she's spent, her body twitching with residual pleasure as she collapses against you. you hold her close, stroking her hair and whispering more sweet words, letting her come down from the high. she's still your puppy, still precious, but now she's yours in a way that words can't quite capture.

"good girl," you whisper into the quiet of the room, and you feel her nuzzle closer to your chest, finally still.

𓂃

𓏻i: making absolute SHIT

gfau gpmei virginmei degradation. smut.

wc: 1.3k

masterlist

it was always the same routine on tuesdays. megan would show up at your house after school looking like she hadn't slept in three days all limbs and nervous energy and that stupid puppy dog desperation that she couldn't seem to shake.

she looked like she was constantly on the verge of crumbling her shoulders hunched as if she were trying to make herself smaller though she never quite succeeded. she was a loser plain and simple clumsy sweaty and completely incapable of holding herself together when you were in the room.

you watched her from the doorway leaning against the frame with a practiced air of bored indifference. you looked every bit the queen bee you were your hair perfect even after a full day of classes your expression one of mild amusement mixed with something sharper something almost cruel.

you were wearing a tiny white tank top that showed off the sharp lines of your collarbones and a pair of baggy boxers you had stolen from megan's apartment the week before. you liked the way they felt against your skin a constant private reminder of the girl currently squirming on your bed.

"you're late megan" you said your voice smooth and cold as ice. megan flinched at the sound of it her head snapping up. her face was already flushed a deep pink her eyes wide and watering slightly. "i-i know, sorry… the bus was just-“

"i don't really care about the bus." you cut her off walking into the room with slow deliberate steps. you didn't sit down immediately instead you circled the bed like you were inspecting a piece of property. you noticed how megan's breathing had already begun to quicken how her thighs were pressed tightly together shaking almost imperceptibly.

you knew exactly what was happening. you knew about the missing underwear in your own drawers the damp patches on the hoodies megan borrowed the way megan couldn't seem to keep her hands off herself whenever she thought you weren't looking.

megan was already unraveling. she looked pathetic sprawled across the duvet with her fingers digging into the fabric. she was already hard the unmistakable bulge straining against her jeans. she looked like she wanted to cry and beg at the same time her lips parted as she let out a whimper that sounded painfully needy.

"you're already making those noises" you noted stopping at the edge of the bed. you looked down at megan with undisguised disdain. "you're such a mess. do you ever actually control yourself?"

"baby.. i-i try" megan whined her voice cracking on the last syllable. she sounded so small so helpless. "it's just... when i'm here y/n. it's hard."

you let out a soft mocking laugh. you sat down on the edge of the mattress not touching megan yet just letting the girl suffer under your gaze. you could see the sweat beading at megan's hairline the way her chest was heaving. the power dynamic was delicious the way you held every single piece of megan's composure in the palm of your hand.

"well you're not doing a very good job of trying" you said. you reached out not to comfort her but to hook two fingers under megan's chin forcing her to meet your gaze. megan's eyes were glassy completely undone. "you're shaking like a leaf. it's embarrassing."

"please" megan whispered the word barely audible. she didn't even know what she was asking for only that she needed the torment to end or perhaps for it to escalate into something she could finally lose herself in.

your smile didn't reach your eyes. you liked this the way megan crumbled at the slightest provocation. you liked knowing that you could break this girl apart just by speaking to her. slowly you shifted sliding off the edge of the bed to kneel between megan's spread legs. you could feel the heat radiating off megan's body the desperate energy that seemed to fill the space between them.

"if you're going to be this pathetic about it" you murmured your fingers moving to the button of megan's jeans "then i guess i'll have to show you how to actually handle it."

you didn't rush. you took your time undoing the denim savoring the way megan's hips jerked upward at the contact. when the fabric finally gave way revealing how badly megan needed you you felt a surge of satisfaction. you wanted to see every reaction every gasp every shameful sound. you wanted to milk every drop of desperation out of her.

you leaned forward your breath hot against the sensitive skin of megan's inner thigh. you watched as megan's head fell back against the pillow her eyes fluttering closed as she let out a broken keening sound. you knew what came next and you knew exactly how you were going to make megan beg for it.

you didn't rush to finish what you had started. you wanted to prolong the agony to watch megan squirm under the weight of her own need. you peeled back the fabric of megan's underwear with agonizing slowness exposing her completely to the cool air of the room. megan looked so exposed so vulnerable her hips twitching involuntarily as the air hit her sensitive skin. she looked like she was begging without even saying the words her entire body arched toward you.

"look at you" you whispered your voice dripping with mock pity as you reached out to trace the length of her. "you're already leaky. you're such a filthy loser aren't you?"

megan couldn't even answer. she could only let out another broken whimper her fingers tangling in the bedsheets as she tried to anchor herself. you finally closed the distance your tongue flicking out to taste the salty heat of her. you started slow teasing the tip swirling around the sensitive head before taking her fully into your mouth.

the reaction was instant. megan's entire body convulsed her back lifting off the mattress as a strangled scream died in her throat. she sounded like she was breaking apart. you kept your rhythm steady and relentless using your tongue to stroke and your lips to create a tight sucking pressure that made megan's toes curl. you could taste how desperate megan was the saltiness of her sweat mixing with the slick heat of her arousal. "y-y/n... please... oh god y/n please" megan sobbed out her voice thick with pleasure and shame. she was completely lost her eyes rolled back as she surrendered everything to you.

you didn't stop. you increased the pace your hand wrapping around the base to provide a steady punishing friction while your mouth worked feverishly above. you wanted to milk every single ounce of pleasure out of her. you wanted to see megan reduced to nothing but raw sensation. you could feel the tension building in megan's thighs the way her muscles were coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.

you shifted your grip using your free hand to cup megan's balls kneading them gently between your fingers as you continued to suckle. the dual stimulation was too much for megan; she began to thrash beneath you her hips bucking wildly. she was close so close her breathing coming in short ragged gasps that sounded more like hyperventilation than anything else.

"that's it baby.. give it to me." you commanded against her skin your voice muffled but clear enough to send fresh waves of electricity through the girl above you.

megan finally broke. with one last desperate cry that sounded almost like a plea for mercy she came. she shuddered violently her entire body seizing up as she spilled over your tongue. you didn't pull away; you stayed right there swallowing every drop milking the last of the tremors from megan's body until the girl finally collapsed back onto the pillow panting and completely spent.

but you weren't done yet. you pulled back slowly strands of saliva connecting them in the dim light. you looked up at megan's flushed wrecked face with a cold satisfied smile. megan looked like she had been through a war her eyes unfocused and her lips swollen.

"that was just the first time" you murmured wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. you leaned up pressing your face closer to megan's letting her see the hunger still burning in your own eyes. "i told you i was going to teach you how to behave. now we're going to do it again."

you moved higher positioning yourself so you could look megan directly in the eyes as you prepared to take her again. you wanted to watch the exact moment megan lost herself for the second third time. you wanted to see her face painted with the evidence of how badly she needed to be owned.

you didn't give her time to recover. you knew her body was still hypersensitive from that first climax and you intended to exploit every single nerve ending. you reached down again her fingers finding the slick evidence of her release before you pressed your mouth back against her. this time you weren't gentle. you wanted her to feel the full weight of your control. you focused on the cock that was already twitching and leaking from her earlier release. you used your tongue with a more demanding rhythm licking and swirling around the head with an intensity that made her hips buck involuntarily against your face.

"stay still, puppy." you commanded when she tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. you grabbed both of her wrists pinning them to the pillow above her head with one hand. it was a display of dominance that made her whimper but she didn't fight you. she couldn't. she simply laid there helpless beneath you her chest heaving as she stared up at you with pupils blown wide with need.

you watched her unravel. you watched the way her throat bobbed when she swallowed hard and the way her thighs trembled violently. you shifted your grip moving your hand down to cup her balls while your mouth worked feverishly. you wanted to taste every drop of her desperation. you pressed your tongue harder against the sensitive tip swirling it in circles while your thumb applied steady pressure to the base. you wanted to see how much more she could take before she completely snapped.

you watched her eyes roll back as soon as your tongue found that sensitive spot again. she was already close this time her body reacting to your touch before you even fully engaged. her hips began to grind against your mouth seeking more friction seeking more of you. you didn't give it to her freely. you pulled back suddenly leaving her gasping and desperate the sudden absence of your tongue making her whimper like a wounded animal.

"please," she choked out the word barely audible as she arched her back trying to force herself against you. "please y/n don't stop."

"did i say you could speak?" you murmured against her inner thigh before moving back up to face her again. you wanted her to understand that every second of pleasure was a gift you chose to give. you returned to her cock taking the swollen head back into your mouth but this time you used your teeth. you grazed the sensitive underside with the faintest pressure sending electricity shooting through her entire frame.

megan's legs fell open wider her thighs shaking so hard they could barely support her. you could feel the heat pouring off her. you increased the suction making it deep and punishing your throat working to draw every ounce of feeling out of her. you wanted her to feel like she was drowning in you. you wanted her to forget everything except the way your mouth felt wrapped around her.

your hand moved in perfect sync with your mouth stroking the length of her with firm deliberate motions. you watched her face through half lidded eyes. she looked wrecked. her cheeks were flushed a deep crimson and her mouth hung open as she struggled for air. she was completely at your mercy and you savored every second of it.

"that's it puppy, break for me." you commanded between slow, kitten licks.

she couldn't hold it back. the tension in her body coiled tighter and tighter until she finally snapped. her hips jerked upward with violent force as she came again. she cried out your name as she spilled over your tongue the release so intense it seemed to shock her system. her entire body went rigid before melting back into the mattress. she was sobbing now small broken sounds of pure overstimulation.

you didn't pull away immediately. you stayed connected to her milking the last of the tremors through slow deliberate strokes of your tongue until she finally went limp. you pulled back slowly letting the saliva string between you as you looked down at her ruined expression. she looked pathetic. she looked perfect.

stalkerau g!pmegan fem!reader toxic!yuri

wc: 5k

masterlist next

"excuse me?"

the voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of her arousal like a blade. megan jumped so hard her chair scraped violently against the linoleum floor. she scrambled to close the tab, her fingers fumbling and clumsy, but she wasn't fast enough. the librarian, a woman with glasses perched on the tip of a nose that seemed permanently wrinkled in disgust, was already standing over her.

"what exactly do you think you're doing on this computer?" the woman asked, her voice carrying across the quiet room. megan could feel the heat flooding her cheeks, a burning shame that made her want to crawl under the desk and die.

"i-i was just-i wasn't " megan stammered, her voice cracking. she felt so small, so pathetic. she couldn't even form a coherent lie.

"this is a public facility for educational purposes, not for... this kind of filth" the librarian said, gesturing vaguely at the screen before megan could fully hide it. the whispers started almost immediately. she could feel the eyes of the other patrons on her, judging her, seeing right through her cheap hoodie and her messy hair to the sick girl underneath. "you're making everyone uncomfortable. you need to leave. now."

"please, i'm sorry, i'll just-”

"you're banned, young lady. don't let me see you in this branch again."

the walk to the exit felt like a mile long parade of shame. megan kept her head down, her bangs falling over her eyes to shield her from the stares she knew were burning into her back. she felt exposed, raw, and utterly rejected by the world. she was a freak. she was a loser who couldn't even browse the internet without getting caught being disgusting.

she wandered aimlessly through the streets for hours, the humiliation simmering in her gut like acid. she needed a place to hide, somewhere where the rules felt less rigid, somewhere where she could disappear without being noticed. that was when she saw it the small, dimly lit sign for the community library two blocks over. it looked abandoned, almost forgotten, which was exactly what she needed.

she slipped inside, hoping to remain invisible, but then she saw you.

you were standing behind the desk, sunlight filtering through a stained glass window behind you, making you look like something from a dream. you were laughing at something a patron said, a soft, genuine sound that made megan's breath catch in her throat. you looked so kind, so untouched by the ugliness she carried inside herself. you were organizing a stack of books, your fingers moving with a gentle grace that seemed impossible.

megan froze. she felt like she had been struck by lightning. she wasn't thinking about the porn anymore, or the shame, or the librarian who had screamed at her. all she could think about was the way your hair tucked behind your ear when you leaned forward. she felt a new kind of hunger stirring in her something deeper and far more dangerous than what she had been looking at on that computer screen.

she found a seat in the furthest corner of the basement stacks, a place where the shadows were thick and the air smelled of decay. she opened a notebook, pretending to study, but her eyes never left you. she watched you for hours. she memorized the way you walked, the way you bit your lip when you were concentrating, the way you smiled when you thought no one was looking.

she was a loser, she knew that. she was a stalker in the making, a girl who couldn't function without the proximity of someone who didn't even know she existed. but as she watched you, megan realized she didn't care. she would become whatever she needed to be to get closer to you. she would learn everything about you. she would haunt your digital life and your physical one until you had no choice but to notice her.

it started with the search bar. she found your tumblr first, a private little corner of the internet where you posted blurry photos of sunsets, quotes from old movies, and occasional selfies that made megan's vision go hazy. you looked so soft in them, so unguarded. she would spend hours scrolling through years of your posts, memorizing every caption, every reblog, every tiny detail of your digital existence. she felt like she was getting to know your soul, even though she had never said a single word to you.

she became a ghost in your notifications, too. she never liked your posts that would be too obvious, too dangerous but she would reblog them to a burner account she'd created just for you, an account with no profile picture and no followers. she wanted to consume you without being seen. she wanted to hold your thoughts in her hands without you ever knowing she was there.

then she found your private story on instagram. she couldn't follow you, of course, but she had become an expert at finding the crumbs. she'd find the people who tagged you, the friends who posted you in the background of their stories. she'd zoom in until her phone screen was nothing but pixels, studying the way you laughed in a group photo, the way you looked when you were tired.

it was pathetic. she knew she was a loser. she would sit in her dark apartment at three in the morning, the only light coming from the blue glare of her phone, jerking off to photos of you that she'd saved to a hidden folder. she'd record herself doing it, too shaky, desperate videos where she whispered your name like it was a prayer. she'd watch them back over and over, a sick kind of feedback loop that made her feel both electrified and utterly disgusted with herself.

"you're so pretty" she'd whisper to the empty room, her breath fogging up the screen. "you're so perfect. you don't even know how much i need you."

she started imagining conversations with you. she'd practice what she would say if she ever worked up the courage to approach the desk. she'd rehearse the way she'd ask for help finding a book, hoping your fingers would brush against hers. she'd imagine the way you'd look at her if you knew if you truly knew what she was doing, what she was thinking, what she was recording.

she knew you'd be horrified. she knew you'd call the police, that you'd see her as the freak she was. but the thought didn't deter her; it only made the yearning more intense. she wanted to be seen by you, even if it was with disgust. she wanted to be part of your world, even if she had to be the monster under your bed.

one rainy tuesday, she saw something new. a post from a friend of yours, a photo of a party you'd been at. you were wearing a dress that clung to your curves, your hair loose and wavy, a drink in your hand. you looked radiant, alive, and so painfully far away from the girl rotting in the basement stacks.

megan felt a surge of something dark and possessive twist in her gut. she wanted to reach through the screen and pull you into her darkness. she wanted to take that brightness and smother it until the only thing you could see was her.

she opened her camera app, her fingers trembling as she set up the phone against a stack of books. she needed to record this. she needed to capture the feeling of this hunger, this desperate, aching need that was consuming her whole. she wanted to watch herself lose her mind over you, over and over again, until there was nothing left of her but the obsession.

she pressed record, the small red light blinking like a heartbeat in the darkness.

the red light of the camera was the only thing keeping her grounded as the darkness of the basement stacks pressed in on her. megan's breathing was shallow and ragged, echoing off the old book spines like something broken. she positioned the phone carefully between two heavy encyclopedias, angling it so it caught the way her face looked pale, flushed, and completely undone and the way her hand moved.

she didn't even bother changing out of her oversized hoodie. she just needed to feel you. she opened the photo of you from the party the one where you looked so untouchable in that dress and propped it up on her laptop screen right behind where the camera could see her. she wanted the video to show them together: her pathetic reality and your perfect, distant light.

"please... please look at me” she whimpered, though she knew you couldn't hear her. she knew you'd never hear her.

she started stroking herself, her movements clumsy and frantic. she wasn't graceful like the girls in the videos she used to watch; she was desperate, like she was trying to claw her way out of her own skin. every time she closed her eyes, she didn't see darkness she saw your smile, the way your lips parted when you laughed, the way you looked when you were focused on a book at the library desk. she imagined those hands, those gentle, volunteering hands, touching her instead. she imagined you seeing her like this, not as the quiet girl in the corner, but as this starving, needy thing that existed only because you did.

she let out a choked, wet sound as she picked up the pace, her hips jerking up. the camera captured everything the sweat beading on her forehead, the way her eyes rolled back in shame, the way her fingers trembled against herself. she felt like a loser. she felt like the smallest, most disgusting person on earth, but the disgust only made the arousal sharper, more dangerous. she wanted to be ruined by you. she wanted to be seen in her worst state and still be wanted.

as she neared the edge, she leaned closer to the lens, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "m-mine.. ah.. mine..”

when she finally came it was messy and uncoordinated, leaving her shaking and gasping for air in the silence of the stacks. she stayed like that for a long time, slumped against the cold metal shelf, her chest heaving while the camera continued to record her unraveling. the white liquid all over her tummy just sitting there waiting to be taken care of. she felt hollowed out, drained of everything except the single, burning point of her obsession.

slowly, she reached out and stopped the recording. she didn't delete it. she never deleted them. she transferred the file to her hidden folder, a digital trophy of her own degradation.

she sat there in the dark for another hour, staring at the frozen image of you on her laptop. the hunger hadn't gone away; it had just settled into something deeper, something more patient. she couldn't just watch anymore. she couldn't just be a ghost in your notifications. she needed to hear your voice. she needed to see your eyes lock onto hers in real life.

the next day, she didn't go straight to the basement. she waited until she heard the bell chime at the front entrance, the sound that signaled your arrival. she stood near the circulation desk, pretending to browse a magazine, but her heart was hammering so hard she thought it might bruise her ribs.

when you finally walked up to the desk to check in a book, she saw the way your sweater sleeve slid up your arm as you reached for the scanner. she saw the small mole near your wrist. she saw everything.

"hi, do you need help finding something today?" you asked, your voice soft and professional, tilting your head slightly.

megan froze. she had practiced this moment a thousand times in her head, but hearing your actual voice real, warm, and directed at *her* made her brain short circuit. she felt like she was drowning. she looked up at you, her eyes wide and glassy, looking every bit the pathetic, lost girl she truly was.

"i... i'm looking for..." she stammered, her voice barely audible. she couldn't finish the sentence. she couldn't tell you she was looking for a way to ruin you, or a way to make you love her. "i'm looking for something... quiet."

you gave her a small, confused smile, the kind you give to the strange patrons who don't quite make sense. "the reading rooms in the back are pretty quiet. would you like me to show you where they are?"

"yes," megan breathed, the word coming out like a sob. "please."

as you led the way through the stacks, megan followed close behind, close enough to smell the faint scent of vanilla and old paper that seemed to cling to you. she watched the sway of your hips as you walked, her mind already spiraling back to the videos, back to the dark apartment, back to the way she wanted to scream your name until her lungs gave out.

megan felt like she was walking through a dream that was slowly turning into a fever. the silence of the library felt oppressive now, amplified by the sound of her own pulse thundering in her ears. she watched your back, the way your shoulders moved under that soft sweater, and she felt that familiar, sick twist of need in her stomach. she couldn't let this moment end with just a polite smile and a direction to the reading rooms. she needed to plant something. she needed to make you remember her.

"wait," she blurted out, the word too loud, too sudden in the quiet space.

you stopped and turned around, looking at her with genuine concern. "did you forget something? or did you need help finding a specific section?"

megan felt her face burning. she looked down at her hands, which were shaking visibly. she forced herself to reach into her hoodie pocket and pull out a small, crumpled piece of paper. she had spent three hours last night writing this, her handwriting shaky and uneven, but she had tried to make it look casual. like something she'd just scribbled down.

"i... i found this.” she lied, her voice cracking. she held out the paper like it was something sacred. "it fell out of a book earlier. i think it belongs to you?"

it was a complete fabrication, a pathetic little trap, but she needed to see your reaction. she needed to see if you would take something from her.

you took the paper, your fingers brushing against hers for a split second. the contact sent a jolt through her so violent she almost gasped aloud. you unfolded the paper, your brow furrowing in confusion. it wasn't a note it was a polaroid. she had taken it months ago, from a distance, when you were sitting on those concrete steps during your lunch break. it was blurry, slightly underexposed, but it was undeniably you. you were looking off to the side, caught in a moment of quiet contemplation, looking beautiful and utterly unaware of the lens that had captured you.

megan watched your expression shift in real time. first came the confusion, then the recognition of the setting, and then something else something colder. the way your features hardened, the way your smile vanished completely.

"where did you get this?" you asked, your voice dropping several octaves. it wasn't soft anymore. it was flat. dangerous.

megan felt the air leave her lungs. she knew she had fucked up. she knew she had pushed too far, too fast, but the pathetic part of her the part that lived for the crumbs of your attention couldn't stop herself from leaning in.

"i just... i saw it and thought it was pretty" she stammered, her eyes darting around the empty aisle. she tried to force a weak, watery laugh. "i didn't mean to scare you. i just thought you'd want it back. you look so nice in it."

you didn't laugh. you didn't soften. you stared at her with an expression of pure, unadulterated revulsion. it was the look you'd give a bug you were about to crush under your shoe.

"this isn't mine" you said, your voice trembling slightly now, but not with fear with anger. "and this isn't how you act in a library. you need to leave, miss. now."

the fact that you knew her name sent a fresh wave of terror through her. you had noticed her. you had finally noticed her, but it was exactly what she feared. you hadn't noticed her as a person; you'd noticed her as a threat.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to"

"leave." you repeated, stepping closer, forcing her to back up against the cold metal of the bookshelf. "before i call security. i don't want you here anymore."

megan stumbled backward, her heart breaking even as her arousal spiked from the confrontation. she felt exposed, humiliated, and utterly rejected. she turned and ran, not toward the exit, but deeper into the stacks, needing to hide, needing to disappear before the entire world saw what she really was.

she made it to the basement, to her dark little corner, and collapsed onto the floor. she pulled out her phone with trembling fingers, her vision blurred by tears of shame and frustration. she didn't open her notes. she didn't open her camera.

she opened her private folder. she opened the video of herself from last night, the one where she had whispered your name like a prayer. she pressed play, letting the sound of her own desperate begging fill the silence of the basement. she needed to drown out the memory of your disgust with the memory of her own obsession. she needed to remind herself that even if you hated her, you were still the only thing that mattered.

she curled into a ball, the blue light of the screen washing over her pale face as she watched herself unravel, over and over again, while the ghost of your rejection burned in her chest.

—

the weeks following the incident at the library felt like living inside a fever dream. you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on you. every time you walked to your car after a late shift, every time you turned a corner on your way home, your skin prickled with the sensation of being watched. you had reported her, of course. you had told the head librarian, you had told security, you had even mentioned it to your parents. but the police said there wasn't enough evidence, that a single polaroid wasn't a crime, and now she was just a ghost haunting the periphery of your life.

you stopped taking the bus. you stopped walking alone at night. you started checking your locks three times before bed, the metallic click of the deadbolt offering only a pathetic sense of security against something you couldn't see. you felt hunted. you felt like prey.

and then, the messages started.

they didn't come from her direct account that would be too stupid. they came from new burner accounts, anonymous profiles with no pictures, sending you messages in the dead of night when you were most vulnerable.

> “i saw you today. you looked pretty in that blue coat.„

delivered

> “why did you say those mean things to me? i only wanted you to know me.„

delivered

> “please princess one chance.„

delivered

you deleted them all. you blocked them all. you cried yourself to sleep more times than you could count, the blue light of your phone feeling like a weapon aimed directly at your chest. you felt insane, but you knew you weren't. you knew she was out there, somewhere in the shadows, watching you unravel.

the breaking point came on a Tuesday. it was raining that cold, relentless autumn rain that turned the streets into mirrors of oil and gray. you were walking home from a late shift at the grocery store, your umbrella tilted against the wind, when you noticed the black sedan parked two blocks away from your apartment. it had been there before, you remembered, but tonight it felt different. it felt deliberate.

you quickened your pace, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. you kept your head down, focusing on the wet pavement, praying that if you didn't look, she wouldn't see you. but as you turned into the narrow alleyway that served as a shortcut to your building's entrance, you realized you had made a mistake.

the alley was too dark. the streetlights couldn't reach the bottom. and suddenly, the only sound was the steady drip of water from the rusted fire escape above.

"y/n."

the whisper came from behind you, so close you could almost feel the heat of her breath against the nape of your neck. you froze, your entire body locking up in terror. you couldn't breathe. you couldn't move.

"don't run." she said, her voice soft, almost tender. it was the most terrifying sound you had ever heard. "please don't run, baby."

you spun around, your umbrella slipping from your grasp and clattering to the ground. she was there. she was standing less than two feet away, pressed against the brick wall. she looked terrible her hair was matted and damp, her eyes sunken and bloodshot, her skin pale as a corpse. she looked like the definition of a loser, a broken, desperate thing that had been rotting in the dark for too long.

but her eyes... her eyes were terrifyingly bright. they burned with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"get away from me." you choked out, your voice cracking. you reached for your phone in your pocket, but before you could even touch it, she moved.

she didn't hit you. she didn't grab you violently. she simply stepped into your space, forcing you backward until your spine slammed against the cold, wet brick of the alley wall. she placed her hands on either side of your head, trapping you in the small space between her arms.

"i missed you so much." she whispered, leaning down until her forehead rested against your neck. she smelled like rain and something metallic, something sharp. "i missed you every second since you screamed at me. do you know how much it hurt? to see that look in your eyes?"

"you're drenched." you gasped, tears blurring your vision. "miss. get off me. get home"

"i don't want to." she said, and for the first time, you saw a flash of something else in those eyes not just desperation, but a twisted kind of conviction. "i just need you. and you're going to need me, too. you'll see."

she leaned closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "you can pretend to hate me all you want, y/n. you can scream and call the police and lock your doors. but we both know why you haven't called anyone tonight. we both know why you're still standing here."

you wanted to deny it. you wanted to scream that she was wrong, that you were terrified, that you loathed everything about her. but as she pressed closer, her body warm against your shivering frame, a terrifying, shameful thought flickered through your mind.

the adrenaline, the fear, the sheer intensity of being seen so completely by someone even someone as broken as her wasn't just terrifying. it was electrifying.

she felt it too. she pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, a slow, knowing smile spreading across her pale lips. it was the smile of someone who had finally won.

"see?" she whispered, her thumb brushing almost gently against your lower lip. "you're not running."

the fear didn't disappear overnight, but it changed. it stopped being the sharp, stabbing panic of being hunted in an alley and became a dull, constant ache of unease that lived in the back of your throat. you had called the police after the alley incident, but they had found nothing no evidence of a struggle, no witnesses, just you standing in the rain looking terrified. they told you to file a restraining order, but how could you serve someone who seemed to know exactly how to stay just out of sight until you were alone?

then came the gifts.

it started small. you'd come home from work to find a single flower tucked into your doorframe. then a coffee from your favorite shop sitting on your doorstep, still warm. then a bag of groceries exactly what you needed for dinner that night left on your welcome mat with a note in that same shaky, uneven handwriting.

« you looked tired today. eat something good, y/n. please. »

you wanted to scream. you wanted to throw the food away and call the cops again. but there was something deeply wrong about the precision of it. she knew what you liked. she knew what you needed. she wasn't just watching you; she was studying your needs as if they were her own.

the first time she actually came inside, it didn't feel like an invasion. it felt like a haunting.

you came home late on a Thursday, exhausted and drained from a day of pretending everything was normal. when you turned your key in the lock, you noticed something immediately: your apartment smelled different. it didn't smell like your stale takeout and laundry detergent anymore. it smelled like lavender and something warm, like freshly baked bread.

your heart leapt into your throat as you stepped inside. the lights were dimmed, casting long, soft shadows across the living room. and there she was.

megan was sitting on your couch, wrapped in one of your spare blankets. she looked smaller than she had in the alley, less like a predator and more like a wounded animal seeking shelter. she was holding a mug between both hands, steam rising from it.

"you're late." she said softly, not looking up. her voice wasn't threatening this time; it was almost scolding, like a worried partner. "i was worried you'd gotten hurt."

"how did you get in here?" your voice was a strangled whisper, your hand already fumbling for the phone in your pocket.

"the window in the bathroom doesn't latch properly." she said simply, finally looking up at you. her eyes were red rimmed, dark circles beneath them making her look hollow. "don't be angry, y/n. i just wanted to make sure you were safe. the world is so dangerous for someone as precious as you."

she stood up, the blanket sliding off her shoulders. she didn't approach you aggressively. she moved slowly, deliberately, giving you every chance to run. but your legs felt like lead, rooted to the floor by a terrifying cocktail of fear and a perverse sense of being cared for.

"i made tea. chamomile, with two sugars, just how you like it when you're stressed." she said, stepping toward you. she held out the mug. "come sit. you look like you're about to collapse."

"get out," you managed to say, but the words lacked conviction. you were shaking so hard you could barely stand.

"you're shivering..” she murmured, ignoring your command entirely. she reached out, and before you could flinch away, she pressed the warm mug into your hands. her fingers brushed yours again that same contact that had sent electricity through you in the library. "just sit for five minutes. then i'll go. i promise."

you sat. you didn't know why you sat. maybe it was because the warmth of the mug felt good against your frozen fingers. maybe it was because the exhaustion had finally won. maybe it was because, for the first time in weeks, the paranoia of being watched had been replaced by the strange, twisted comfort of knowing exactly where she was.

she sat beside you, not touching you, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from her body. she started talking not about stalking or photos or the alley, but about mundane things. she talked about the weather, about a book she had read, about how quiet the library was today. she acted as if this was normal. as if she belonged here, sitting on your couch, sharing your space.

"you deserve to be taken care of, princess.” she said suddenly, her voice dropping to that intimate whisper that made your skin crawl. "people don't appreciate you. they don't see how delicate you are. they don't see how much you need someone to watch over you."

she reached out then, her hand hovering near your face before she finally settled it against your cheek. her palm was warm, her touch impossibly gentle.

"i'm the only one who really sees you." she whispered. "and i'm never going to give up."

you should have pushed her away. you should have screamed for help. but as you sat there in the dim light, sipping the tea she had made for you, you felt a sickening sense of surrender beginning to take root. she was invading your home, your privacy, your very identity but she was doing it with kindness. she was replacing your fear with a dependency that felt like a trap lined with velvet.

and the worst part was, you were starting to stop fighting it.

𓂃

| 𓏻 i:

dlsuau meganxyoonchae nerdmei nepobabychae wc: 1.5k

masterlist

“paligoy-ligoy”

(adjective)

going around in circles;

beating around the bush;

failing to get to the point

being indirect or evasive

in speech or action.

the humidity in manila was doing no favors for megan's bangs. she shifted her weight, adjusting the strap of her heavy laptop bag as she navigated through the crowded corridors of the henry sy building. the air conditioning in dlsu was a godsend, but even that couldn't quite mask the restless energy of a tuesday afternoon. around her, students were rushing between classes, the sound of chatter and shuffling feet creating a constant hum that megan usually tuned out.

she wasn't exactly the type to notice people. she was too busy with her engineering notes, her headphones permanently glued to her ears, and her mind always three steps ahead in whatever problem set she was solving. she was part of the campus royalty the 'f4' as the girls in the cafeteria jokingly called them but not because she was rich or spoiled. it was because she and her friends were untouchable.

lara was the resident fashionista, always looking like she just stepped off a runway even during a three hour lecture. daniela was the athlete, effortlessly cool with a sharp tongue that could either make you laugh or make you cry. then there was manon, who possessed a calm, ethereal beauty that made people stop dead in their tracks whenever she walked past. they were a unit. they were the girls everyone knew, the girls who moved through the university with a kind of effortless confidence that made them seem like they lived in a different world entirely.

"meg, you're doing that thing again where you pretend the world doesn't exist” lara said, appearing at her side without warning. lara's perfume was expensive and floral, cutting through the stale air of the hallway.

megan pulled one earbud out, sighing. "what thing?"

"the nerd stare. you're calculating something, aren't you? probably something boring like stress loads or whatever." daniela joined them, spinning her keychain around her finger. she looked energized despite the afternoon slump. "come on, we're meeting at the food court. manon said she found somewhere good."

"i have three more pages to read..” megan whined, though she already knew she was going to follow them. she never could say no when they moved as a pack.

as they turned the corner toward the main exit, the crowd seemed to shift. it wasn't a dramatic change, just a subtle ripple in the flow of students. megan felt it before she saw it that strange, sudden awareness that something different was happening in her space.

and then she saw her.

she was walking beside the famous influencer sophia laforteza, who looked familiar in a way that made megan's brain stall. sophia was a dlsu alumna, someone who visited occasionally and made school vlogs, but she wasn't the reason megan's heart suddenly decided to perform a chaotic drum solo against her ribs.

it was the girl beside her.

she looked younger, somehow, but there was an air about her that was impossibly composed. she had this quiet, nonchalant energy that seemed to push back against the chaos of the campus around them. she wasn't loud, she wasn't performing; she was just existing, and yet she was the only thing in megan's field of vision.

"who is that with sophia?" manon asked quietly, her keen eyes catching megan's sudden freeze.

megan didn't answer. she couldn't. she was too busy watching the way sunlight from the high windows caught the strands of the girl's hair. there was something about the way she moved so careful, so deliberate, like she was a visitor in a world she didn't quite belong to.

"that girl beside sophia is... wow," megan finally managed to whisper, her voice betraying a rare crack in her usual composed demeanor.

lara arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow, peering over megan's shoulder. "wow as in pretty? because she's cute. she has that whole soft aesthetic going on."

"no, not just pretty," megan insisted, though she sounded ridiculous even to herself. she was an engineering major; she dealt in facts, measurements, and certainties. this girl was an anomaly. she looked completely unfazed by the sweltering manila heat that made everyone else look slightly wilted. she seemed almost untouchable, wrapped in a bubble of calm that megan suddenly wanted to burst or perhaps, to be pulled into.

"she's yoonchae, right?" manon asked, tilting her head as she observed them from a slight distance. "sophia mentioned she was bringing her sister along for the visit. i think she's staying for the week."

the fact that yoonchae was a temporary visitor made something sharp and territorial twist in megan's chest. she had exactly seven days to figure out what this feeling was. she had seven days to bridge the gap between the girl who hid behind textbooks and the girl who seemed to understand the world without saying a word.

"come on, mei, stop drooling," daniela teased, nudging megan's arm hard enough to make her stumble. "we have food to eat and you have a reputation to maintain. we don’t stand around staring at strangers in the hallway."

"i-i wasn't staring." megan lied automatically, adjusting her glasses and pulling her bag higher on her shoulder. she forced her gaze back down to the floor, focusing on the scuff marks on her sneakers, but her peripheral vision remained stubbornly locked on the retreating figure of yoonchae.

as the group continued their walk toward the food court, megan felt the weight of the afternoon shift. the calculus problems that usually occupied her mind felt distant, replaced by a singular, nagging question: how do you approach someone who looks like they already have everything figured out? how do you make someone who is so effortlessly nonchalant actually notice you?

—

the rest of the afternoon passed in what could only be described as a complete cognitive malfunction. megan sat through her advanced calculus lecture, but instead of deriving equations, her brain was busy deriving the exact shade of yoonchae's hair under the fluorescent lights. she kept staring at her notebook, but the numbers were blurring into something unrecognizable. it was infuriating. she prided herself on her focus, on being the girl who could tune out the entire world, but now, the entire world was suddenly centered around a girl she hadn't even spoken to.

"earth to megannnn..” lara whispered, leaning across the library table during their study session later that evening. lara was surrounded by color coded highlighters and aesthetic sticky notes, looking like the picture of academic productivity. "you've been staring at that same page for twenty minutes and i'm pretty sure you've been holding your pen upside down."

megan blinked, feeling the heat creep up her neck. she quickly flipped the pen upright. "i'm just tired. the heat today was draining."

"liar” daniela chimed in from across the table, not even looking up from her phone. she was scrolling through sports highlights, her legs stretched out under the table. "you've been in a trance since we saw sophia and her sister at the henry sy building. admit it, you're intrigued."

"i'm not intrigued, i'm... distracted!" megan corrected weakly.

"distracted is what you are when you forget to submit an assignment, mei” manon said gently, though there was a playful glint in her eyes as she closed her book. she was the most observant of them, the one who could read megan's moods before megan even realized them herself. "but there's a difference between being distracted by a problem set and being distracted by a person."

the girls all shared a knowing look. that was the thing about being in their circle; there were no secrets. they knew each other's rhythms, each other's tells. and right now, megan's tell was written all over her face.

"she's just... different." megan finally admitted, lowering her voice as a librarian shushed them from three tables away. "she doesn't seem to care about anything happening around her. it's like she's in her own world."

"well, if you want to get into her world, you're going to have to do better than staring from across a hallway." lara said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "you can't exactly walk up to sophia laforteza's sister and start drooling."

"i know..” megan muttered.

the next few days were a test of will. megan found herself taking longer routes to her classes, haunting the buildings where sophia was known to film her vlogs, hoping for nothing more than a glimpse. she told herself she was just getting fresh air, or exploring new parts of the campus, but the truth was simpler and much more pathetic: she was hunting for a ghost of a feeling.

she saw them again on Thursday. this time, it wasn't a passing glance in a crowded hall. she was sitting alone in a quiet corner of the taha building, trying to focus on a structural analysis report, when the door creaked open.

the familiar sound of sophia's laughter drifted in first bright, engaging, the kind of sound that belonged to someone who lived their life in front of a camera. and then, there she was.

yoonchae walked in behind her, carrying two iced coffees. she wasn't looking at sophia; she was looking out the window at the courtyard below, her expression unreadable. she looked even more composed in the quiet of the taha building, the soft afternoon light filtering through the glass and casting shadows across her face. she looked like something out of a film, something too perfect to be real.

megan froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. she should leave. she should get up and walk out before she made it obvious. but she couldn't move. she was paralyzed by the sheer proximity of her.

sophia and yoonchae chose a table not far from megan's. sophia immediately started setting up a tripod, her hands moving with practiced ease as she prepared to film a quick story about her visit to her alma mater.

"okay, so we're here at dlsu and it's literally so nostalgic " sophia's voice rose as she began her monologue, but megan couldn't listen to a word of it.

she was watching yoonchae.

yoonchae had set her coffee down and was now simply sitting there, waiting. she wasn't checking a phone, she wasn't fidgeting. she was just... present. she looked up suddenly, her gaze scanning the room with that same nonchalant curiosity.

megan ducked her head behind her laptop, her breath catching in her throat. she felt like a criminal caught in the act. her pulse was racing so fast she was sure sophia would hear it.

"you okay?" manon's voice came through megan's earbuds. she had texted her earlier asking to meet up, and now she was calling.

megan didn't answer. she couldn't speak. she could only watch through the narrow gap between her laptop screen and her textbook.

through the gap, she saw yoonchae turn her head. she saw the way yoonchae's eyes wandered across the room until they landed directly on megan's table.

for three seconds, time stopped.

yoonchae's eyes locked onto megan's. there was no surprise in them, no embarrassment. just a quiet, steady observation. she didn't look away immediately. instead, she tilted her head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible quirk at the corner of her lips that might have been a smile, or might have just been a trick of the light.

then, as quickly as it had happened, she looked away, turning back to watch her sister work.

megan felt like she had been struck by lightning. her hands were shaking so badly she had to grip the edge of the table to keep them still. she had been seen. not just noticed, but truly seen.

"mei? you there?" manon's voice asked again, more concerned this time.

megan finally fumbled for her phone, typing back with unsteady fingers.

> i think i just died.

𓏻 delivered

she stared at the screen, waiting for the reply, but her eyes kept drifting back to the girl with the iced coffee. the seven days were ticking away, and megan realized with a terrifying jolt that she wasn't just trying to win over a stranger anymore. she was trying to survive the aftermath of a single glance.

just as she was about to close her laptop and flee, yoonchae stood up, grabbing her drink and walking toward the exit. as she passed megan's table, she slowed down. just for a fraction of a second.

she didn't stop. she didn't say anything. but as she walked past, a small, folded piece of paper fluttered from her hand, landing silently on the floor right beside megan's chair.

megan's heart stopped.

been saving up fics on my notes app and figured i should feed yall.. so hi — ion write smut for yoonchip:)

katseye

s m u t g!pmeganxfem!reader

f l u f f meganxyoonchae

s m u t g!pvirginmeganxmean!femreader

part ii