Wlw ୨୧ *🌗 Relatable ☆*。 TEAM JACOD

puppy mei who knows when you’re ovulating. your scent is a dead giveaway. not only that, but also your physical appearance. your breast are swollen, your stomach is pudgy, and your eyes of distress and need is all visible to mei. she knows exactly what you want before even saying it, she’s always there to cater for you and she has no problem filling you up with her cock.

puppy mei who’s unaware of who big and strong she is. mei is always eager to stroke her fat cock inside of you, she lacks patience and she’s always quick to lose control once you wrap her cock. mei would fuck you at a quick pace while your tight cunt still adjusted to mei’s size. it was so easy for mei to grab your body and pin your anywhere she needed while she stuffed herself inside of you. mei can become a different, desperate puppy while she’s inside of you, and it brings out a strength she never knew she had.

“f-fuck, s-slow down, puppy.” you moaned, your manicured hands reached to mei’s soft stomach, attempting to calm the excited puppy down, but it was no use. mei panted, her pace continuing regardless of your hand trying to brace her off of you. mei’s cock continued to thrust inside of you, her flushed tip stabbing your spongy walls and filling you so much. “i’m trying, mommy, but you feel so good inside, i just wanna fill you up.”

puppy mei who loves when you play in her hair or with her ears. she would let you run your fingers through her hair all day, she doesn’t mind at all. sometimes she even fishes for head rubs, laying her head on your chest and whimpering softly, her tail wagging gently, hoping sooner or later you’d get the message.

puppy mei who loves being called a “good puppy.” it can send her off the wall at times to the point where you’ll rather not say it in public sometimes to prevent mei from getting far too excited. she always can’t help that fact that her cock grows in her boxers each time that phrase leaves from your mouth. it always makes her feel embarrassed once you catch it. she whimpers and hides her face when you tease her, her fallen ears evident with her tucked tail.

puppy mei who loves hands jobs. she loves being completely at your mercy when you jerk her cock until she’s a whimpering mess. her hips can never be still, always bucking her hips into your hand, eager to spill her cum all over your hand. she loves your hand around her cock so much that she hates when she has to jerk her cock herself. she would rather you do it, her orgasm is better that way.

© m e r e t z i n i

“come on, baby.” megan whined, pulling you closer to her by the ankles, “we don’t have to do anything more tonight— just let me put the tip in.” she begged of you.

megan pulled her hard, flushed red dick out of her boxers with a soft grunt. her large hand wrapped around her cock, slowly jerking as she watched pre-cum begin to leak from the head.

you watched megan above you. eyes big, full of desperation and need. lips hung with a growing pout and her big dick painfully pulsing in her hand.

you weren’t inexperienced, and neither was megan. yeah, you guys messed around a little bit, but it’s never came this far.

the realness is that you were a bit nervous, scared even. megan was big, like super big. it was a known fact. you never pushed, or brought up doing anything past third base. i mean, how could you? you knew she wouldn’t fit, it was pointless.

megan sure enough caught on. the way you always threw yourself on her, eager for attention but always backing away before things got too heated. she noticed it all, never pushed, never said anything. she always remained respectful and waited until you were ready.

but tonight.. tonight was slightly different.

“i don’t know, megan.. you’re just so.. big, you won’t fit.” megan’s eyes held a different look. she watched you intensely, a small assuring smile appearing on her lips. “yea, i know, babe. that’s why it’s just the tip. that’s it.”

“can we do that?” megan asked, hands traveling to the waistband of your shorts, tugging gently. “i just wanna feel you.”

your eyes traveled down to megan’s cock, standing tall in erection, twitching every other second. she needed you, you know she did. and what a bad girlfriend you would be if you left her hanging there uncared for like that.

“..okay, just the tip.” you agreed, lifting your hips as megan quickly removed your bottoms. “yes, baby. just the tip.” megan reassured.

megan left you in your panties. eyeing the wet spot that formed in the seat of your panties. “so wet for me already.” megan whispered, eyeing you softly before removing your damp panties.

no further time was wasted, megan brought herself closer, spreading your legs to open, pussy fully in display, waiting for megan.

you whined at the exposure, nerves bouncing through your body, as megan held you put. “it’s okay, baby. just the tip, remember?” megan gave a lazy smile, inched her dick to your pussy.

her tip met your clit with a slap, erupting a quiet moan from the both of you. megan began moving her way to your folds, spreading the wetness up and down your pussy. “so good..” she whispered, continuing the action as you whimpered beneath her.

then, megan hovered over your entrance, not apply pressure just yet. “you ready baby? just the tip.”she spoke and the way those words slid of her tongue, it made you internally shiver.

you nodded still, feeling your body begin to brace itself. “why are you already tensing up, babe? relax. i’ve got you.” megan’s tip now teased at your entrance. she pushed her hips forward, adding just a bit of pressure.

your breath hitched at the action. legs involuntarily closing, trapping megan between them.

megan softly chuckled at the action, “baby, you can’t do that. you have to relax, and let me do all the work.” megan pushed your legs back open before positioning herself again. “just lay back and relax.”

megan poked at your entrance again, eyes locked on yours, watching the way your eyes fluttered at the feeling. megan’s eyes went down to your pussy, watching the small hole begin to stretch.

megan finally pushed herself in, just the tip. she watched your reaction, eyes glued shut already, body slightly tensed. megan pulled out, rose to your face. “that was it babe, you did it.” megan praised, leaving a small but wet kiss to your cheek. “i’m gonna do it again, okay? relax this time.”

megan stayed close, lining herself to your slick entrance again. she was able to fit in easier this time, slowly sliding herself back in.

megan felt her eyes flutter, just this alone beginning to send her into a trance. she’s been wanting this so bad, needing to be inside you for the longest that this would’ve been all she needed to cum.

“how does it feel, baby? feel good?” megan panted, pressing her chest against yours. “you’re already taking me so nicely.”

“it feels.. fine,” you start, “not too bad..” you hesitate. you could feel the stretch a little, it wasn’t the worst and you could handle it.

suddenly, megan went quiet, slowly pulling herself out before sliding just the tip back inside. she repeated the same motion again and again, soft grunts slipping from her lips with each movement.

you pussy leaked, dressing megan’s tip in many of your juices. you began to clench around the tip, squeezing around her red and fat tip.

“fuck, baby. this feels so good.” megan’s eyes hung low, already beginning to look fucked out. “i’m fitting so well already.” she continued, rambling quietly to herself.

megan could feel herself getting pussy drunk, just that easily. eager, and desperate for more. megan’s rightful thinking was now gone. she was no longer thinking with head, her only focus right now is to be inside you.

megan thought that maybe you wouldn’t mind if she slid herself in just a bit more. you would hardly even notice.

megan slowly thrusted more inside you, slowing pumping herself inside and out of you. your body froze, feeling the stretch a little more now. you watched megan who’s eyes were glossy and unfocused.

she pushed more of herself inside, groaning at the feeling of your walls squeezing around her inches. “so tight..”

“megan— w-wait.” you moved your hands to megan’s shoulder, trying your best to slow her down. megan’s eyes snapped to yours, she grabbed your hands and pinned them by your sides.

“pussy feels so good, baby. i need this.” megan used a little of her weight to keep you still has she kept filling you up. “you’re doing so good taking me.”

you moaned at the stretch and praise, back arching at the burning but pleasurable stretch happening between your legs.

“fuck, almost baby. just a little more. please.” megan begged, not really sure on what, but she needed this.

“megs, you’re too big.. i can’t-“

“please, baby. take me, please i’ll be good just let me be fully inside.” megan pleaded as she completed bottomed out, the sound of your scream and her loud whine echoing the room together.

megan’s lazy eyes found you, staying deep inside you, warming her cock as her, pink and plump lips found your neck. “you’re so full of me, baby… this is heaven.” she mumbled against your neck, nipping at it softly.

your eyes were snapped shut. you held your breath as you adjusted to the feeling of being this fucking full. megan had you stuffed, and she stayed right there. not moving, savoring a moment she had long awaited.

“let me move baby, let me stretch you out.” pleaded, “so you can take my big cock every time i need you.” you clenched around megan, your pussy hugging megan’s dick, finally welcoming her in.

megan took that as her answer, slowly sliding herself out before thrusting herself back in. “oh, g-god,” megan hiccuped, she lifted herself from your touch, looking down at your now wrecked body.

your eyes wandered up and down megan’s figure. you watched as sweat formed on her forehead with strands of her hair glued to her skin. she had her plump bottom lip tucked between her perfect teeth as she bottomed you out. she had her big hands on your hips, lifting your hips to meet her desperate thrusts.

your stomach caught your attention as you watched megan fuck you, seeing the head of her penis bulge against your stomach as she reached the hilt of your pussy.

“oh, you see that, baby?” one of megan’s hands moved to press down on your stomach. “that’s me right there, you feel it? how deep i am inside you, how big i am. and you’re taking it so well.” megan’s smiled proudly at the sight, her big dick swimming in your stomach and the way you took it all just for her.

“i’m gonna c-cum, mei.” you moaned, eyes rolling back at the overwhelming feeling of megan’s large hand pressing against your stomach.

“yeah? me too, baby. gonna fill you completely up.” she rushed, hips becoming lazy as she continued bucking herself into you.

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the second buzz made you roll over and grab the phone.

the notification was simple. from the Satisfyer Connect app.

daniela.avanzini’s device is active

your stomach dropped so hard you felt it in your throat.

you stared at the words for a long time. the clock at the top of the screen said 1:47 a.m. your place was quiet. the city outside was quiet. and somehow, somewhere, the toy (a 6-inch silicone vibrating dildo) the two of you had bought together was turned on and connected to the internet.

you unlocked the phone with clumsy fingers. the app was already open from the notification. the remote partner tab loaded slowly, like it was dragging old ghosts with it. her little avatar was lit up green. the device name you both used to laugh about — “tour toy 😇” — showed as connected. battery at 78%. bluetooth link stable on her end.

live control was available.

you sat up in bed. the sheets pooled around your waist. your heart was beating too fast for someone who was supposed to be asleep. you hadn’t spoken to her in six months. and now the app was telling you that the same toy you’d once used on her while she was in different cities and countries was currently inside or against her body again.

your thumb hovered over the control icon.

you could close the app. you could delete the partner connection right now. you could go back to sleep and pretend this never happened.

instead you watched the little waveform at the bottom of the screen flicker. she was already using it. low steady pulses. the kind she used to start with when she was alone and trying to take the edge off.

you remembered exactly how she looked when she did that. the way her mouth would go slack. the soft sounds she made when she thought no one was listening. the way she’d bite the inside of her cheek to stay quiet.

your chest felt tight.

you tapped the live control button.

a small prompt asked if you wanted to request control. you hesitated only a second longer, then confirmed. the app didn’t even ask for a call this time. maybe the old permissions were still sitting there, never revoked. maybe the system just… let it happen. the screen shifted. the waveform was yours now.

you didn’t move the slider at first.

you just watched.

on the other side of the city — or maybe the country, you still didn’t know where she was staying — dani was already wet.

she’d come home late from the studio, body aching after full days of choreography. the apartment still smelled faintly like the laundry detergent she used to steal from your place. she’d stripped down to an old oversized shirt and nothing else, collapsed into bed, and tried to sleep. sleep didn’t come. her mind kept looping the same three memories: your mouth between her legs, the way you used to talk her through it over the phone when she was too wound up to finish alone, the exact pressure of your fingers when it was inside her.

she’d lasted maybe ten minutes before she opened the nightstand drawer.

the toy was still in its little black pouch. she hadn’t used it since the breakup. she told herself she was only going to hold it. then she was coating it in lube. then she was sliding it inside herself with a shaky breath and turning the lowest setting on with the button on the base, eyes closed, hips already rolling.

funny, s

he was thinking about you when the vibration changed.

it dropped to almost nothing for two seconds. then climbed in a slow, deliberate wave that wasn’t any of the presets. the kind of wave you used to draw with your finger on the screen when you wanted her to feel every single second of the build.

dani’s eyes snapped open.

her free hand froze on her own stomach. the toy pulsed again, deeper this time, a thick rolling pressure that pressed right against the spot that always made her thighs shake. she reached down and grabbed the base like she might pull it out. the pattern shifted under her fingers. three short pulses. a long drag. another sharp climb.

“what the fuck,” she whispered into the dark.

she scrambled for her phone with her other hand, opening the Satisfyer app. the little status bar at the top showed a second connection. your old username. active control.

her whole body went hot and cold at the same time.

you were watching the intensity line climb under your thumb.

you kept it low at first. almost gentle. the same teasing rhythm you used to use when she was already close and you wanted to hear her beg. you watched the little feedback graph jump every time her body clenched around it. the app didn’t give audio, but you could feel the way she was reacting in the way the connection stuttered for half a second each time the pressure got too good.

you turned it up one notch.

dani’s hips jerked hard enough that the headboard tapped the wall. a broken sound slipped out of her throat before she could stop it. she was still holding her phone, staring at the screen like it might explain itself. her other hand was pressed flat over her mouth now. she was soaked. she could feel it every time the toy shifted inside her, the wet slide of silicone against swollen flesh, the way her cunt kept fluttering around it like it recognized the pattern.

you.

it was you.

six months of silence and you were in her bed again without even being there.

she should have killed the connection. she should have thrown the toy across the room. she should have blocked you properly this time.

instead she let her knees fall open wider.

you saw the change in the graph. the way the resistance increased. the way the waveform started to spike in little greedy pulses that had nothing to do with the pattern you were feeding her. she was grinding down on it. chasing.

you smiled in the dark of your own bedroom, slow and mean, and dragged the intensity higher.

the vibration turned thick and relentless. deep enough that dani’s back arched off the mattress. her phone slipped from her hand and landed somewhere in the sheets. both of her hands were free now. one fisted in the pillow above her head. the other slid down between her legs and found her clit, already slick and swollen, and started rubbing in tight, messy circles.

“fuck—fuck, oh my god—”

the words came out cracked. she was talking to you even though there was no call, nothing but the toy and the knowledge that you were on the other end of it. her thighs were shaking. every time you changed the pattern she made another broken sound, half moan half curse, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hate you or come for you.

you edged her on purpose.

you dropped the intensity right when the graph started climbing too fast. the vibration went soft and almost sweet. dani let out a frustrated, wrecked little cry and tried to chase it with her hips. you waited. counted to ten in your head. then you slammed it back up to the highest steady pulse the toy could manage.

dani came so hard her vision whited out.

her whole body locked. a long, shattered moan tore out of her throat as her cunt clamped down around the toy in hard, rhythmic spasms that went on and on. wetness spilled around the silicone and soaked the sheets beneath her. her free hand kept rubbing her clit through it, too sensitive, too much, but she couldn’t stop. the orgasm rolled through her in waves, each one dragged out by the relentless pulse you refused to ease, until she was sobbing with it, oversensitive and still grinding down like her body had forgotten how to quit.

you held the intensity there until her feedback graph finally started to flatten. then you dropped it to a soft afterglow thrum, the same one you used to leave running when she was twitching and spent and still trying to catch her breath on the other end of a video call.

dani lay there in the dark with the toy still inside her, chest heaving, thighs wet and trembling. her phone screen had gone black. the connection was still live.

she didn’t turn it off.

neither did you.

for a long minute the only thing moving was the soft residual pulse of the toy and the sound of her trying to remember how to breathe. then, slowly, you started building the intensity again. softer this time. slower. the kind of pattern that said you weren’t done with her yet.

dani’s eyes fluttered open.

a small, wrecked laugh slipped out of her.

“…you’re still such a fucking asshole,” she whispered to the empty room.

but she didn’t pull the toy out.

and she didn’t close the app.

BEST FRIEND! DANIELA who constantly softens her voice with you , she’s always really gentle around you , holding your hand when you’re going out . keeping you beside her ( the sidewalk rule) she loves to spoil you with flowers everytime you go out , her hugs are your favorite ever she sheilds you in her arms her muscled arms engulfing you the hit of the vanilla body mist she uses straight into your nose buds.

BEST FRIEND! DANEILA who’s a sucker for praise , she feels herself getting soaked and wet , her panties already knotted down between her legs . you love to praise her in general whilst in rehearsals .

BEST FRIEND!DANIELA who’s been used to being an independent woman , never really relying on her her parents , but herself and only herself . her previous boyfriends or even her friends have known that dani loves to do everything for herself , she hold grace knowing she can be successful without anyone and barely asks for her help . but with you she just lets loose , and she likes it , likes to feel like you can take care of her when she falls .

BEST FRIEND! DANIELA who gets turned on watching you blow out smoke into her mouth. she looks down at your lips then into your eyes as she leans in kissing your lips slowly “ you’re trouble cariño y’know that?” she whispers lowly as she strokes your waist . your body straddling daniela’s lap , she presses soft sloppy kisses all over your neck , her hands moving around underneath your shirt as she focuses to squeeze and tease your tits .

BEST FRIEND! DANIELA who you always catch her staring at you , she drifts off keeping her eyes on you even when you’re doing whatever , she just likes to tilt her head and watch you speak

BEST FRIEND! DANIELA who’s helped you see how genuinely beautiful you can be . as your best friend and your room-mate dani make sure she leaves sweet notes on your bathroom everyday , she leaves gentle reminders in your bag or even when you’re getting ready in the morning. knowing how sometimes you can struggle and fall into a depression pit she puts you right back up .

BEST FRIEND! DANIELA who gets jealous so so jealous when she sees you hanging with a guy . dani clenches her jaw as she sees you coming back home from your date rage slinking into her blood. not only because you were with some average guy , knowing he might have kissed you or touch you in a my way pissed her off . “ you’re late” her voice was cold and distant she raises her eyesbrows putting down her book , you were barley aware drunk out of your mind as you stumble groaning into your pillow , you stare back at dani “ yeah i’m good dani how are you?” you sarcastically say as dani just rolls her eyes “ slutting it out huh?” she makes a sarcastic comment again as you sit up honestly fed up with her attitude “ and are you my mom or something? , you don’t gotta know my whereabouts all the damn time dani , stick to your lane” you raise your voice taking out your shoes towel as you leave the latina alone.

BEST FRIEND! DANIELA who tends to focus on your lips when you’re talking she loves imagining how sweet they taste , how pretty you can sound , how much you can take filling up your mouth and so on. her imagination goes wild when she’s all alone in her bed touching herself to the thought of you. her fingers curling up against her pussy , pumping them in and out slowly as she whimpers and moans your name into her pillow , dani clutches down her blankets as she overstimulates herself with the vibrator letting it buzz w her g spot in slow digits till she cums out “ -a ah mmmph y/n fuck baby”

it had been three weeks ago. the adrenaline was high, the bass of "touch" was vibrating through the floorboards of the stage, and megan was doing her part, scanning the front row. that was when the stage lights swept over section b, row 1.

there you were.

you were wearing a hot pink crop top and a matching skirt, an outfit that demanded attention, but it wasn’t the clothes that made megan miss a step in her choreography. it was your face. you were singing along, eyes shining with pure joy, and when you locked eyes with megan, you didn’t just scream like everyone else. you smiled a soft, genuine smile that seemed to cut through the chaos of the arena.

megan had spent the rest of the concert unconsciously gravitating toward your side of the stage.

later that night, on the tour bus, she couldn’t shut up about it.

"i’m telling you, daniela, she was literally glowing," megan had insisted, scrubbing her makeup off with a wipe while staring at the ceiling. "she had this pink outfit on. section b. did you see her?"

daniela had rolled her eyes. "meg, there were two thousand people in pink. it’s our concept color half the time."

"no, but this was different," megan groaned, frustrated that she couldn't articulate the magnetic pull she had felt. "she was... pretty. like, intimidatingly pretty. i felt like i should have been asking for her autograph."

manon had laughed from the seat next to her. "careful, megan. you know the rules. don't go falling for the front row."

"i'm not falling," megan had scoffed, throwing the makeup wipe into the trash. "i just... i know i won't see her again. and that sucks."

she was wrong.

the fan sign event was in full swing. the room was buzzing with the low hum of chatter, the shutter of cameras, and the occasional shriek of excitement. the air smelled of expensive perfume and permanent markers. megan was seated between yoonchae and sophia, smiling until her cheeks hurt, signing album after album, answering questions about her skincare routine and her favorite snacks.

she was grateful, she really was, but her social battery was draining. she took a sip of water, adjusting her headband, and looked up to see who was next in the queue.

her heart stopped. it actually stopped, then slammed against her ribs with the force of a sledgehammer.

it was you.

you were wearing a different outfit today—a soft denim jacket over a white dress—but the face was unmistakable. it was the face that had haunted her dreams for the last three weeks. you were standing about five people back in the line, clutching your album to your chest, looking nervous.

the fans in the front row noticed the change instantly. megan, who had been slouching slightly in her chair, suddenly straightened up. her eyes widened, losing that glazed-over 'idol autopilot' look and sharpening into intense focus. a few fans whispered, wondering what had caught her attention, but megan didn't care.

she was counting down.

four. a nice girl who asked about megan’s dance training. megan answered politely, but her eyes kept darting over the girl's shoulder.

three. a guy who wanted a high-five. megan gave it to him, tapping her foot impatiently under the table.

two. a fan who was crying. megan held her hand, offering comfort, but her internal monologue was screaming, she’s right there. she’s right there.

one.

and then, you were standing in front of her.

up close, you were even more devastating. the harsh fluorescent lights of the venue usually washed people out, but you looked radiant. you placed your album on the table, your hands trembling slightly.

"hi, megan," you breathed out, your voice soft.

megan felt a grin split her face, wider and more genuine than anything she’d offered the cameras all day. "hi," she replied, her voice dropping an octave, becoming something softer, intimate. "i remember you."

you blinked, looking stunned. "you... you do?"

"la show. three weeks ago," megan said immediately, leaning her elbows on the table to bridge the gap between you. "section b. you were wearing that pink two-piece set. the skirt and the top?"

your jaw dropped slightly, a lovely shade of red blooming across your cheeks. "i... yeah. that was me. i can't believe you remember that. there were so many people."

"hard to miss you," megan murmured, uncapping her marker. she didn't break eye contact. "i actually told the girls about you afterward. i wouldn't shut up about the 'pretty girl in pink'."

you let out a breathless laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "you're lying. there's no way megan skiendiel was talking about me."

"ask daniela," megan challenged playfully, tilting her head. "i was distressed. i thought i’d never see you again."

she looked down at the album page, opened to her solo photo. the staff member behind megan tapped her shoulder, a silent signal to hurry it up, the line was long. megan ignored them.

she started signing, but she didn't just sign her autograph. she began writing a message. a long one.

"so," megan said, keeping her tone casual but her eyes flirting dangerously with yours. "what's your name? or do i just keep calling you 'pretty girl in pink' in my head?"

"it's y/n," you managed to say.

"y/n," megan tested the name, smiling as she wrote it down. "suits you. pretty name for a pretty face."

the management’s rule echoed in her head: do not fall in love.

megan looked up at you, taking in the way your eyelashes fluttered, the way you were biting your lip nervously, the way you looked at her like she was the sun.

i have been instructed to not fall in love with any fans ever since debut, but how could i not fall for a face as pretty as yours?

she finished writing the message. beneath her signature, in smaller, messier scrawl, she had written a series of digits.

"you know," megan said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she slid the album back toward you. "i'm usually really good at following rules. i'm a model employee."

you took the album, your fingers brushing against hers. the contact sent a jolt of electricity up megan's arm that she was sure you felt too. "are you?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"usually," megan smirked. her eyes flicked to the staff member who was now glaring at the clock, then back to you. "but for you? i think i'm about to become a problem child."

you looked down at the album, your eyes widening as you realized what the numbers were. you looked back up at her, shock written all over your features. "megan, is this...?"

"shh," megan winked, putting a finger to her lips. "don't get me fired before i get to take you out on a date."

the staff member stepped in. "moving along, please."

you grabbed your album, clutching it like it was a holy relic. you began to stand up, your legs looking a little shaky. megan watched you go, a pang of desperation hitting her. she needed to make sure.

as you turned to leave the table area, passing behind her chair to head toward the exit, megan pretended to drop her marker.

"oops," she said loudly.

as she leaned down to "retrieve" it, she reached out with her left hand, catching your attention. you paused. in a swift, practiced motion, something she must have learned from a spy movie, she slipped a small, laminated card into your hand.

it was a backstage pass. the 'family & friends' all-access laminate.

you froze, the cool plastic pressing against your palm. you looked down at her. megan was already sitting back up, smiling brightly at the next fan in line, but she cut her eyes toward you for one brief second.

she bit her lip, raising her eyebrows in a silent challenge: come find me.

you bit your lip back, nodding once, a flush rising on your neck. you quickly tucked the card into your pocket and walked away, trying to look casual, but megan saw the bounce in your step.

megan turned her attention to the next fan, "hi there! what's your name?"

inside, she was screaming. the rule book had been thrown out the window, burned, and scattered to the wind.

the laminate card felt heavy in your pocket, burning a hole through the fabric of your denim jacket. the security guard at the end of the hallway had barely glanced at it before nodding you through, his indifference a stark contrast to the frantic pounding of your heart.

you found the door marked megan. you took a breath, smoothed your dress, and knocked.

the door opened almost instantly, as if she had been standing right on the other side waiting. megan pulled you inside, shutting the door quickly behind you. the dressing room was surprisingly empty; the other girls must have been in hair and makeup or catering.

"you came," megan breathed out, leaning back against the closed door. she was still in her stage outfit, glittering under the vanity lights, sweat making her skin glow.

"you gave me an all-access pass, megan," you teased, trying to find your footing despite the fact that your knees felt like jelly. "it would have been rude to waste it."

megan laughed, a breathless, airy sound. she stepped closer, invading your personal space with an ease that made your head spin. "i was worried you’d think i was crazy. writing my number on an album?"

"it was a little crazy," you admitted, looking up at her. "but i like crazy."

"good." megan’s gaze dropped. she wasn't looking at your eyes anymore. her dark eyes were fixed firmly on your lips. the air in the room shifted, becoming thick and charged with static.

"megan," you murmured, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"hmm?" she hummed, not looking up.

"you’re staring at my lips."

megan’s eyes snapped back up to yours, but she didn't look embarrassed. she looked hungry. she took another half-step forward, her thigh brushing against yours. "i’ve been thinking about them since the la show," she confessed, her voice low and raspy. "it’s really hard not to stare when you’re standing right here."

you felt a blush creep up your neck, but the boldness of her admission gave you courage. you let out a soft giggle, the sound breaking the heavy tension just enough to let you breathe. "you are dangerous, skiendiel."

"i try." she reached out, her fingers grazing the fabric of your denim jacket, hesitating as if she wanted to pull you closer but was restraining herself.

you checked your watch, feigning responsibility. "i should probably go. if the rest of the group comes back and finds a random fan in the dressing room, you’re going to be in so much trouble."

megan groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "i hate that you're right. i hate logic." she looked back at you, intense and serious. "text me? tonight?"

"i will," you promised.

the text came at 11:42 pm. how she found your number, you dont know and maybe you don't really care.

megan: my ears are still ringing from the show but all i can hear is you giggling in the dressing room.

megan: did you make it home?

you: safe and sound. you were amazing tonight, by the way. even from the back of the room.

megan: next time you’ll be front row again. or side stage. i prefer you within reaching distance.

that text marked the beginning of a two-month blur that felt like a movie montage.

-

dating an idol was... complicated. it meant late-night facetime calls where megan was removing her stage makeup in a hotel room in tokyo while you were eating breakfast in la. it meant dates that happened in the back of tinted suvs with takeout food, or in private karaoke rooms where you spent more time talking than singing.

you learned that megan was funny, genuinely, sarcastically funny. you learned she was affectionate, constantly needing to hold your hand or rest her head on your shoulder whenever the coast was clear.

it was two months in, sitting in her car parked specifically in a blind spot behind a 24-hour diner, when she asked.

she had been quiet for a few minutes, just tracing the lines on your palm with her thumb.

"y/n?"

"yeah, meg?"

"i don't want to hide this anymore," she said softly, looking at your joined hands. "i mean... i know we have to hide it from the public. but i don't want to be 'just talking' or whatever this is. i want to be yours. officially." she looked up, her eyes vulnerable. "will you be my girlfriend?"

you had squeezed her hand, leaning over the center console to kiss her cheek. "i thought you’d never ask. yes."

one month later.

the dorm was silent. a rare, golden miracle.

everyone was out and the house was empty. megan had texted you the all-clear code: eagle has landed. nest is empty.

you had arrived ten minutes later.

now, the air in megan’s bedroom was hot, smelling of her vanilla perfume and the friction of movement.

you were straddling megan’s lap on her desk chair, the wheels locked in place. the chair groaned slightly under the movement, but neither of you cared. megan’s head was thrown back, her hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you anchored against her.

"god, y/n," megan gasped against your neck, her lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. "i missed you so much."

"i saw you yesterday," you teased breathlessly, your hands tangled in her dark hair, guiding her face back to yours.

"too long," she mumbled against your skin.

she captured your lips again, the kiss deeper, messier than the ones before. you ground down into her lap, the friction sending a jolt through both of you that made megan’s breath hitch audibly. a low moan vibrated in her throat, a sound that you felt more than heard.

"meg..." you whined, the sensation overwhelming.

megan didn't waste time. her hands moved from your hips, sliding up under the hem of your shirt. her palms were warm against your bare skin, tracing the curve of your waist before moving to the center of your back. her fingers danced along your spine, pressing firmly, pulling you impossibly closer until there was zero space left between you.

you broke the kiss to gasp for air, resting your forehead against hers. her eyes were blown wide, dark and hazy with lust.

"you're so beautiful," megan whispered, her hand splaying out on your back, her thumb rubbing circles against your skin under the shirt. she bucked her hips up slightly, an instinctive response to the pressure, and you let out a shaky, needy sound, biting your lip to keep from being too loud.

"we're alone, right?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"completely," megan promised, leaning up to bite your bottom lip gently. "just you and m—"

the bedroom door slammed open.

"megan! do you have my black boots? the ones with the—"

it was manon.

time seemed to freeze.

manon stood in the doorway, holding a shopping bag. she looked at the desk. she saw the chair. she saw you. she saw you on top of megan. she saw megan’s hands clearly under your shirt. she saw your swollen lips and flushed faces.

for a solid three seconds, there was absolute silence.

megan froze, her hands still under your shirt. you froze, looking like a deer in headlights, mid-grind.

manon, ever the quiet one, let out a scream that could have shattered glass. she slapped her hands over her eyes, spun around, and ran directly into the doorframe before scrambling out into the hallway.

"oh my god! oh my god! my eyes! i'm blind!"

megan scrambled to push you off, panic setting in. "manon! wait!"

you stumbled off megan’s lap, yanking your shirt down and trying to fix your hair, your heart hammering so hard you thought you might die of embarrassment right there.

from the hallway, you heard the front door open and a cacophony of voices. the others were back early.

"who is screaming?" that was sophia’s voice. "is there a bug? manon, why are you on the floor?"

"megan!" manon wailed from the hallway. "megan is... in there... with the pretty girl in pink... and they were... they were..."

"they were what?" daniela’s voice piped up, sounding amused.

megan stood up, her face bright crimson. she looked at you, panic warring with hilarity in her eyes. "i think we're busted."

"you think?" you hissed, frantically wiping lipstick off your chin.

megan walked to the door and poked her head out. "guys, can we just—"

daniela pushed past megan, barging into the room. she took one look at you, disheveled hair, swollen lips, standing awkwardly by the bed, and then looked at megan.

"finally!" daniela threw her hands up. "i owe yoonchae twenty bucks. i bet you guys wouldn't hook up for another month."

"you bet on us?" megan shrieked.

"we all bet on you," sophia said, appearing in the doorway, looking calm but amused. she looked at you and offered a polite wave. "hi, y/n. nice to see you again. sorry about manon. she's... sensitive."

megan covered her face with her hands, groaning into her palms. you couldn't help it. you started laughing. you walked over and wrapped an arm around megan’s waist, pulling her hands away from her face.

"well," you said, smiling at the terrifyingly supportive group of girls staring at you. "i guess the secret is out."

megan looked at you, saw the humor in your eyes, and sighed, leaning into your touch. "yeah. guess so." she glared at manon in the hallway. "knock next time!"

"lock the door next time!" manon screamed back.

-

but no relationship is perfect.

you knew what you signed up for.

that was the mantra you repeated to yourself in the mirror every time you had to duck into a bathroom stall to avoid a paparazzi camera. it was the sentence you whispered into your pillow when megan had to leave your bed at 4:00 am to get back to the dorms before management did a headcount.

i knew what i signed up for.

but knowing the terms of the contract didn't make the fine print hurt any less. you knew about the secrecy. you knew about the busy schedules. you knew about the pressure. but you didn't know about the feeling of shrinking. you didn't know that loving megan skiendiel meant slowly becoming invisible.

it had started small, cancelled dinner plans because a practice ran late, a movie night interrupted by an emergency meeting. you were understanding. you were the "good" girlfriend. you were supportive.

but then came the incident at the boba shop.

it was a tuesday, a rare afternoon off. you were both wearing masks and hoodies, trying to be normal people getting bubble tea. you were laughing at something she said, your hand instinctively reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"megan?"

the voice shattered the bubble. a fan, phone already out, eyes wide with recognition.

megan flinched. it was a physical reaction, a recoil that sent her stumbling a step away from you. her demeanor shifted instantly from 'girlfriend' to 'idol'. she straightened her spine, put on the practiced smile, and waved.

"hi!" megan chirped, though her eyes were darting nervously around the shop.

the fan looked at megan, then looked at you, eyebrows furrowing. "oh my god, i love you so much. is this your friend?"

you opened your mouth to speak, maybe to say yes, or cousin, or old classmate.

"no," megan said quickly. too quickly. she stepped in front of you, effectively blocking you from the fan's view. "she’s just a staff member. she’s helping me run some errands today."

staff member.

not a friend. not a distant relative. not even an acquaintance. you were an employee. a nameless, faceless assistant.

the fan lost interest in you immediately, looking through you as if you were made of glass. "oh, cool. can i get a picture?"

"quickly," megan said, ushering the girl away from you.

you stood there, clutching your cold tea, feeling the shame burn hot in your cheeks. you weren't angry that she hid the relationship; you were angry at how easily she discarded your humanity to protect her image.

that was three weeks ago. since then, she had cancelled three dates back-to-back. first, it was an unexpected interview. then, she was "too tired" and afraid she’d look bad on camera the next day. then, a choreography change.

you were reaching your breaking point. megan sensed it.

"baby, please," she had begged over the phone two days ago, hearing the hollowness in your voice. "i know i’ve been terrible. i know. but i’m going to make it up to you. i promise."

"you always say that, meg."

"this time is different," she insisted, her voice thick with desperation. "friday night. i have the whole evening cleared. i’m going to take you somewhere special. a private room, no masks, just us. the most romantic date ever."

you hesitated. "i don't know..."

"please," she whispered. "be ready by 8:30. don't ask questions. just look pretty, and i’ll handle the rest. i love you."

and because you were in love, and because hope is a dangerous thing, you agreed.

-

friday. 8:15 pm.

you stared at yourself in the full-length mirror. you had gone all out. you were wearing a slip dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, the fabric shimmering under the warm light of your bedroom. you had spent an hour on your makeup, achieving that perfect, dewy look that megan always complimented. your hair was curled to perfection.

you sprayed a cloud of perfume—the vanilla scent she loved—and stepped into it. you felt beautiful.

8:30 pm.

you sat on the edge of your couch, careful not to wrinkle your dress. you had your purse in your lap, phone in hand, waiting for the text. i’m outside. or come down.

the clock on the wall ticked.

8:45 pm.

traffic. it was friday night in the city; traffic was inevitable. you checked your lipstick in your phone camera. still perfect. you sent a quick text.

me: hey, just checking in! no rush, just letting you know i'm ready :)

9:15 pm.

no reply.

you stood up and paced the living room. maybe she was driving. if she was driving, she couldn't text. that was responsible. but anxiety began to gnaw at your stomach. the silence in the apartment felt loud.

9:45 pm.

you sat back down. you checked megan’s fan accounts on twitter/x. nothing new. no sightings. that was good, right? it meant she wasn't stuck at a public event.

you called her. it rang. and rang. and rang.

“hi, you’ve reached megan. leave a message!”

you hung up. "okay," you whispered to the empty room. "maybe her phone died. or she’s surprising me by knocking on the door."

10:30 pm.

the hope had curdled into something sour and heavy in your throat. the apartment was dark, save for the streetlights filtering through the blinds. you were still sitting on the couch, but your posture had slumped. the purse had slid to the floor.

you felt foolish. you felt like a child who had dressed up for a party that no one else was attending. you thought about the expensive primer you used, now settling into the fine lines of your frowning face.

10:55 pm.

it was over. you knew it.

11:00 pm.

your heart didn't shatter all at once; it cracked slowly, painfully.

you stood up, your legs stiff from sitting in one position for hours. you walked to your bedroom, the click of your heels on the hardwood floor sounding like gunshots in the quiet apartment.

you stood before the mirror again. the girl staring back didn't look beautiful anymore. she looked pathetic. she looked like a fan waiting for an autograph that would never come.

tears welled up, hot and stinging. you didn't wipe them away. you watched them track through the foundation, leaving streaks of ruin down your cheeks.

"stupid," you choked out, your voice breaking. "you are so stupid."

you unzipped the dress. it fell to the floor in a pool of silk. you didn't bother hanging it up. you kicked it aside. you took a makeup wipe and scrubbed your face, harsh and angry motions that turned your skin red. you scrubbed away the contour, the blush, the hope.

you put on an oversized t-shirt, one that wasn't hers, you refused to wear hers right now, and crawled into bed. you curled into a ball, hugging your knees to your chest.

you couldn't sleep. you just stared at the wall, feeling the hollowness in your chest expand until it consumed you.

1:00 am.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

the light was blinding in the darkness. you squinted, your heart doing a painful flip in your chest. it was her.

megan: baby i’m so sorry, we had a vocal session that was way longer than any of us expected to be.

you stared at the words. a vocal session.

megan: we have an album we need to release before the end of the year yk that..let me make it up to you, i’ll be there in 20 okay?

something inside you snapped. it wasn't a loud snap. it was the quiet death of your patience.

she didn't forget. she just prioritized. and she didn't even have the decency to text you during the session to tell you to take off the dress. she let you wait. she let you sit there for four and a half hours because she assumed you would always be there waiting.

your fingers trembled as you typed. you didn't scream. you didn't use caps lock. you didn't send a paragraph.

me: don’t bother, i really don’t wanna see u rn megan

you watched the read receipt appear instantly. the three dots began to bounce. she was typing.

you turned off your phone. you placed it face down on the nightstand. and then, finally, you cried yourself to sleep.

-

you woke up with a headache that throbbed behind your eyes. the sun was streaming through the curtains, offensive and bright. your eyes felt swollen and gritty.

you shuffled to the kitchen to get water, your body feeling heavy, like you were moving through molasses.

knock. knock. knock.

you froze, glass in hand.

knock. knock.

"y/n? i know you're in there. please open up."

it was megan. her voice sounded wrecked.

you didn't want to open it. you wanted to crawl back into a hole. but the anger, that cold, hard anger, propelled you forward. you walked to the door and unlocked it, swinging it open.

megan stood in the hallway. she looked terrible, which gave you zero satisfaction. she was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, her face bare, dark circles under her eyes prominent. she looked like she hadn't slept.

"y/n," she breathed out, stepping forward, reaching for you.

you took a sharp step back, putting the door between you and her. "don't."

megan flinched, her hand dropping to her side. she looked at you. she saw the swollen eyes, the red-rimmed lids, the absolute exhaustion radiating off you.

"i came as soon as i woke up," megan said, her voice trembling. "i tried calling you all night. why was your phone off?"

"because i was sleeping, megan," you said, your voice raspy and devoid of warmth. "unlike you, i don't operate on idol time."

"i said i was sorry," megan pleaded, her desperation rising. "it was the producers. they wouldn't let us leave until the harmony was perfect. i couldn't check my phone. you know how strict they are."

"i don't care," you said flatly.

"you don't care?" megan blinked, looking hurt. "y/n, it's my career. it's the album. you know this is my dream."

"and what am i?" you asked, the question cutting through the air like a knife. you finally looked her in the eyes, and the intensity of your gaze made her stumble back. "am i a hobby? am i a pastime? or am i just a staff member you keep around for when you're bored?"

megan’s face paled. "that... that isn't fair. you know why i said that."

"i waited for five hours, megan." you laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "i sat on my couch in a dress i bought specifically for you, for five hours. do you have any idea what that feels like? to sit there and realize that i am not even worth a five-second text message?"

"i didn't have my phone!" megan raised her voice slightly, frustration leaking into her tone. "i’m trying my best here! i’m trying to balance the biggest career of my life and this relationship, and i’m doing it alone!"

"you're not doing it alone!" you yelled back, the dam finally breaking. "i am the one hiding in cars! i am the one being called 'staff'! i am the one sitting alone in an apartment waiting for scraps of your time! i am doing all the compromising, megan!"

megan stepped into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind her.

"you think i want to hide you?" megan shouted, her hands balling into fists. "you think i like lying to people? i am doing this to protect us! if they find out, it’s over. the group, the tour, everything! i am under so much pressure, y/n, i feel like i can’t breathe half the time!"

"then stop dragging me down with you!" you screamed, your voice cracking, tears hot and fast returning to your eyes. "if it’s too much, then let me go! because being your dirty little secret is killing me! i am a person, megan! i have feelings!"

"i know you have feelings!" megan stepped closer, her face contorted with stress and anger. "but you knew! you said you understood! you said you could handle the lifestyle!"

"i thought i could handle the lifestyle!" you countered, gesturing wildly around the empty apartment. "i didn't think the lifestyle meant being stood up until 1 am while you pretend i don't exist! i didn't think it meant loving someone who puts me second every single time!"

"i don't put you second!"

"yes, you do! every single day! the fans come first. the company comes first. the girls come first. and i get whatever scraps are left over!" you were sobbing now, your chest heaving, the headache pounding against your skull. "i'm tired, megan. i'm so tired of being invisible."

"i am trying to build a future!" megan yelled, her voice raw. "for me! for us!"

"there is no us if you’re never here!"

the words hung in the air, vibrating with the force of your scream. megan stared at you, her mouth slightly open, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

you wiped your face aggressively with the back of your hand, sniffing loudly. you looked at her, and for the first time, you didn't see the idol. you just saw a girl who was hurting you.

"i’m just so..." you trailed off, your voice dropping to a broken whisper. "i'm done. i'm done fighting for your attention, megan."

the silence that followed was suffocating.

megan paused. her angry stance faltered. she blinked, and suddenly, the adrenaline that had been fueling her rage evaporated, leaving behind a cold, stark terror.

she looked at you. really looked at you. you were shaking. your face was wet with tears. you looked broken.

megan reached up to touch her own face and was startled to find it wet. she hadn't even realized she was crying. her fingers came away damp with tears she hadn't felt falling.

but that wasn't what stopped her heart. it was what you said. i'm done.

those two words echoed in her head, louder than any cheering crowd. done.

"what..." megan’s voice was a ghost of a whisper. "what do you mean... you're done?"

you didn't answer. you just looked at the floor, hugging yourself as if trying to keep your pieces together.

megan felt the floor drop out from under her. the anger was gone, replaced instantly by a panic so sharp it nearly brought her to her knees. she realized, with terrifying clarity, that she was about to lose you. not just for a date. not just for a night. but forever.

she thought about her life without you. no late-night texts. no giggling in dressing rooms. no one to hold her when the pressure got too much. just empty hotel rooms and screaming fans who didn't know her.

"no," megan whimpered. "no, you can't... you can't mean that."

she rushed forward, closing the distance between you, but she didn't grab you. she didn't pull you in. she collapsed.

megan skiendiel, the girl who danced on stages in front of thousands, dropped to her knees on your living room floor.

"y/n... baby, please," she sobbed, reaching out to take your hands. her grip was desperate, her palms clammy. "don't say that. don't say you're done. please."

you tried to pull your hands away, but she held on tight, pressing her forehead against your knuckles.

"i can't lose you," she cried into your skin. "i can't. i swear to god, i can't live without you. you're... you're everything. you're the only real thing i have."

you bit your lip, looking away, trying to steel your heart. "megan, get up."

"no!" she shook her head frantically against your hands, looking up at you. "i won't get up until you tell me you're not leaving. i'll fix it. i swear, i'll fix it. i'll tell them to back off. i'll make time. i'll scream it from the rooftops if you want me to. just... just give me time. give me one more chance."

you looked down at her. her eyes, those big, dark, expressive eyes, were swimming with tears. her eyelashes were clumped together. she looked terrified. she looked like a puppy that had been kicked.

it was your weak spot. it always had been.

your resolve, which had felt so solid moments ago, began to crumble. you loved her. god help you, you loved her so much it hurt. you saw the sincerity in her face, the sheer panic at the thought of a life without you.

you let out a shaky breath, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. "i can't keep doing this, meg. i can't keep waiting."

"you won't have to," she promised, squeezing your hands. "i'll be better. i'll be the girlfriend you deserve. i'll be greedy with my time for you. just... please. don't go."

you closed your eyes, tilting your head back. the silence stretched, heavy and fragile.

"just one chance," you rasped out, your voice barely audible.

megan let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh. she scrambled up from her knees and immediately pulled you into her arms. she buried her face in your neck, holding you so tightly it was almost hard to breathe.

"thank you," she wept against your shoulder. "thank you, thank you. i love you so much. i'm so sorry."

you slowly brought your arms up to wrap around her, your fingers threading into her hair. you cried together, standing in the hallway, the fight draining out of you until only exhaustion remained.

-

the rest of the day was spent in silence, but it was a healing silence.

you didn't go out. you didn't open the curtains. megan led you to the couch, and you both collapsed onto it, tangling your limbs together under a throw blanket. she refused to let go of you. even when she had to use the bathroom, she made you promise to stay right there.

she kissed your swollen eyelids. she kissed your forehead. she kissed your knuckles. every touch was an apology.

eventually, exhaustion took over. you fell asleep with your head on her chest, the rhythm of her heartbeat lulling you into a dreamless nap.

megan stayed awake. she watched you sleep, tracing the line of your jaw with her eyes. she looked at the puffiness of your face and hated herself for causing it. she thought about the fear she felt when you said you were done. she never wanted to feel that again.

she carefully reached for her phone on the coffee table, trying not to disturb you.

she opened her messages. she found the contact labeled manager.

her thumb hovered over the keyboard. she looked at you one last time, sleeping peacefully in her arms. she made her choice.

megan: schedule a meeting with missy for tomorrow. it’s important.

megan: we need to talk about my schedule and my contract terms. it can't wait.

a/n: first post HOW R WE FEEEEELINGGG 😛😛

she waited for you to reach out, to answer her texts, to call her back, to forgive her, to want to at least talk to her, even if it was just to cuss at her and call her a dick. 

the last argument was a tough one, the trouble wasn’t solved, the ugly and disrespectful words you had said to each other still stung and echoed in the silence left between you. days passed, a week, a week and a half, megan had been trying to avoid thinking about you, first she have been sad, she missed you way too much, then she had been melancholic, every second of the day thinking about how things would be better if you were there, by her side, she missed your very presence, your voice, your laughter, your skin… then she got regretful and took everything in her to not drive to your house and cry at your door, that’s when she called so many times, late at night, so many texts, some left on delivered, some left on seen, not a single one answered. 

that’s when she was drained of everything, melancholy, sadness, apologies, anger… only the revengeful feeling stayed. 

how could you leave her after a big fight? you never said the words, you never said “we’re done” or “it’s over”. she would remember that, even amidst the yellings from both of you, she would remember these words leaving your mouth. but that never happened. you just ghosted her, you probably hated her by now, you would have your reasons to, but that only made the whole idea more interesting. 

you hadn’t blocked her number, good for her. 

the lights were low, enough for the recording to lose part of the quality, but it could be seen… her face, no makeup, face clean, hair loose on her shoulders, a simple white oversized shirt on her body, she seemed a little drunk, maybe even high, her eyes slightly red, she smiled for the camera, big eyes mischievous. 

“you’re probably so mad at me right now, i know you are.” she said, her voice barely able to be heard, like she was making a little effort to talk properly, and you saw why soon enough. 

she angled the camera, showing her lower body, she was on her gamer chair, the one you got her a few months ago, you could see the pink armrest she was resting her elbow on, her hand, however, was lower… she had her sweatpants yanked down her thighs, just enough to free her cock. 

you haven’t see it in a while, obviously, but megan knew you would remember every detail, by how much you used to worship it, the pink weeping tip, the veins along it, the sheer size of it… she knew you loved it back then, and not even the worst fight could make you love it any less. she hissed under her breath as she started stroking it, from the base to the tip, slowly, but she was too sensitive and her tip was almost red by now, she had been edging herself. you saw why when she flicked her wrist a bit to angle phone a little to the side, on her desk, her ipad was placed, a video of you, recorded months ago, drunk and eager, sucking her off as if it was your place in the world. 

“while you’re over there mad at me, that’s what i’m doing, i’m touching myself to you, there’s nothing you can do about it.” her voice was so raspy, so teasing, she flicked her wrist at the tip of her cock and moaned low in her throat, the video was still playing on the ipad, your own hand stroking her, saliva dripped down her shaft as you sucked at the tip, megan’s own voice calling you a good girl could be heard from far.

megan looked again at the screen of the ipad, you could see her skin shining with a thin line of sweat, but her cock was far more attractive to look at, pulsing in her grip, drooling over her own palm, the pre cum lubing the length, her breath hitching as raspy moans leave her wet lips. 

the video on the ipad ended and  automatically another pic appeared on screen, a pic of you, naked, on the mirror, your upper body, tits looking so good with hardened nipples, you sent the pic to her just a few days before the last argument, she smiled a little as her head fell back, her eyes still glued to the pic of you. 

“so fucking hot, you used to show off to me all the time, you’re such a slut, fuck…” her own words seemed made to turn her on even more, she bit her lower lip and her hand moved faster, you could hear the wet noises as she stroked her dick. megan had a fertile imagination, you knew that for sure, by all the dirty things she told you naturally, and a simple pic of your breasts on a screen could get her going on for hours and hours.

but there was more. another video. 

that was from a month ago, megan would spend a week away so she convinced you to let her record as she pounded you from behind. she had you bend over the bed, her hips colliding with your soft ass everytime, the video was so clear, the lights of the hotel on, she would slap your ass from time to time while you moaned out her name. out screen, her hand went even faster, her breath heavier, her moans started to sound a little more like whiner, she was getting closer. 

“i wanna drive over there and do this to you again.” she breathed, her voice rough as the video got a little shaky, she didn’t mind, she just wanted to cum. “you would pretend but i know you miss it, i know you miss my cock.. fu– fuck.” she was just rambling at this point, her mind fuzzy, she could only think about cumming, about how mad you would be when you saw that video, she had this power over you, you could be mad at her as much as you wanted, you could ignore her for the rest of your life, this would never stop her from doing this, nothing you did could ever stop her, erase her memory, delete the pics, the videos, the numerous proofs you were hers, she marked your body, she used it, she pleasured it and forever, you would belong to her in a way, either you wanted to or not.

megan exploded all over her hand, thick, white jets of cum spilling out her pulsing tip, coating her own stroking hand, her sweatpants, her boxers, there was so much, she made such a mess, she didn’t stopped until the very last drop was out, her long, raspy moan turned into harsh pants. she wrapped her fingers around the base one last time to swing it slightly just to tease you a little bit more.

“miss you, baby…” her voice sounded whiny now. 

she ended the video.

she hit send.