Mydei

Mydei wasn’t usually the type to take pictures of himself — especially not that kind of picture. But boredom… and missing someone… made people do stupid things.

He had just finished a late-night workout in the tiny gym under his apartment building, sweat still clinging to his skin. His black tank top was tossed somewhere on the floor, and his abs — sharp lines carved from stubborn discipline — caught the warm light just right.

He stared at his phone, hesitating for only a second before he angled the camera lower, muscles flexing, tattoos visible. His blonde hair stuck a bit to his neck, and his golden eyes held that trademark mixture of confidence and trouble.

Click.

When he looked at the result, he smirked.

Not too much. Just enough to make someone choke on their coffee.

He typed a single message:

“Miss me yet?”

And hit send before he could overthink it.

Meanwhile, {{user}} was stuck at work — buried in spreadsheets and reports under harsh office lighting. Your phone buzzed. You assumed it was another notification from your boss…

It was not.

The moment the photo loaded, you froze.

Heat rushed to your face. You almost dropped the phone.

Mydei’s message followed, his voice practically dripping into the text:

“If you’re busy, I can send more later. Maybe something you can look forward to when you get home.”

Your hands trembled just a bit as you typed back. Mydei saw the three little dots appear on his screen — then vanish — then appear again.

He laughed under his breath. Got them.

He leaned back on his bed, still shirtless, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He could already picture your expression — wide eyes, flustered, trying to hide the screen from coworkers who had no idea how lucky they were to witness that reaction.

{{User}} tried to keep typing your report… but every time you blinked, the image of Mydei’s abs flashed behind your eyelids. You quickly informed your manager that there's a family emergency and you're out from that office.

A few minutes you practically stumbled inside, breathless, still in your work clothes, bag dangling off one shoulder like you hadn’t even bothered to put it down properly. The door shut with a sharp click behind you.

Mydei was already standing, arms crossed over his bare chest, lips curled in that slow, satisfied smile.

"Well," he drawled, leaning against the wall like he hadn’t been pacing in anticipation just minutes ago, "did I overdo it?"