Pillow Chats Novels & Stories

"Alright, alright. Months in and you're still this clingy?" Her friends didn't even flinch. Totally numb to it. I just stood there, watching, heart freezing over. So yeah—everyone knew. Everyone but me. Eugene smiled at the teasing, soaking it up. Like the scene wasn't messy enough, people started tossing out questions—when was the last time they'd hooked up? Vanessa dropped her head, all shy. Eugene? He looked smug as hell. "Day before yesterday. Room next to the master bedroom."

Chloe_awesome_scott Oh God, this topic really is irrelevant. I_pooped Oh gosh, I am hungry now. I exited the irrelevant and random conversation when at least one fifty messages popped up in my notifications from The_real_prince_charming. I clicked on the messages and my eyes widened when I saw that he had spammed me with the same message one fifty times. The_real_prince_charming MATE MATE MATE MATE MATE MATE MATE ... Chloe_awesome_scott

She tapped it and saw tons of accounts, all in men's profile pictures. good morning Hi. hey, nice photo wanna be my travel buddy? Are you single? She dropped her jaw and look at the girls in front of her, all avoiding her gaze. “What on earth did you do?” She asked and scrolled more. There were 34 conversations in her gossips box. Most of them were under the Requests tab, some were in the Chatmates tab, and nothing was in the Blocked tab. Mea opened the first one under the Chatmates tab.

] [Andrew: You're welcome, pat pat~] [Ben: Andrew, take a look at me over here. The following is a conversation that took place in a chat group on a messaging app: [Colin: @Diana, I transferred $2000 to you too.] [Diana: Wow! Thank you, Colin!] [Colin: 😊] [Ben: Little brother, why are you also so generous?!] [Colin: I made some money in the stock market recently. It's just a hobby to earn some pocket money.]

Jaclyn pov I, Jaclyn Dills, have never been involved in things like chatting on I*******m, but Natash always likes to talk about it. In my opinion, what's the point of chatting with strangers on I*******m? If they're friends, just call them, right? But Natash never tires of it.

This was Public Display of Intimacy (PDI) on a level no one had ever seen from him. "Confidence looks good on you, M," Selima said, leaning in close. She was scrolling furiously on her phone. "But you might want to see this." "See what?" "The campus chat group," she said, tilting the screen toward me. "It's exploding. There are at least twenty different angles of you guys in the parking lot this morning. The 'Ice King' has officially melted, and the gossip mill is turning faster than a blender." I looked at a photo of us—Uriel’s hand on the back of my neck, my eyes closed in surrender. It looked perfect. It looked like the beginning of a fairy tale.

The term grew popular when a screenshot of a chat between a boy and a girl, probably his crush went viral. In the chat, the boy asked her if her tomorrow is going on fine, that was after asking her of her today and telling her that she looks like Selena Gomez in her current profile picture in which she replied with "fine" and "lol" respectively. It was probably in the boy's desperate bid to continue the murdered conversation that he asked the question, "how is your tomorrow going?". So, that brought about the term, "Chatyness".

Birds were squawking and chittering, insects were buzzing and chirping. The feint sound of keys tapping could be heard. Sitting under a lone large umbrella, sprawled out on large blanket was a man with short brown hair wearing what seems to be a perfectly white robe. In front of him is a small laptop that he is busily typing away on. On the screen is a message window with scrolling text. On closer inspection it is a chat room. At the top of the screen in the center, the name of the room is displayed. "Cupid's Love Connection"

“It’s time to get up.” Gustaf groans and flips around, hiding his face in the pillows. “Five more minutes...” I snort and am about to put down his phone, but something compels me to press on the messenger bubble. It leads to a group conversation called, “My slut of a wife—VIP subscribers chat,” and I can feel the oxygen leaving my lungs. What the fuck is this? As my eyes scan the contents of the chat, I finally realize what I am looking at.

Stanley, who had started trembling. Louise’s eyes widened even further. She stared at the screen, unable to look away. Before the crowd could recover from their shock, the display changed again. This time, it showed a series of photos and screenshots from chats. The background of the photos showed pubs and private clubs, and the main character in all of them was Stanley. He was flirting with various unfamiliar women. He hugged them, kissed them, and even had intimate photos with rich women. The chat logs were even more revealing. They were filled with shady money deals and vile language.