Ok cool appreciate you ❤️ but honestly what I found was yea he’s dad is a famous hairstylist umberto giannini but he died 18 months after Orlando was born his mom made a vegan hair care company for curls named after him to keep his memory alive (so would I consider him a nepo baby?? I mean to each their own ) now as for his relationships I can exactly pin poke when him and Lara got together and because how ppl claimed he cheated on his last relationship with Lara (which isn’t true because the dude makes sad piano music about it but who am I you know 😂) it just seems like to me he may have moved on quickly maybe other then that I mean there is this video talking about who he really is 🙄 but mind you the person who made that video their account has edits of Lara with her ex from that Photo Booth pics but dude doesn’t seem bad as ppl make him to be
Ps I did all this cause I was bored sitting and waiting for someone 😂 but the second Orlando slips up I will be taking my chances with Lara 🤣
Whattt omg this is so crazy but the end is so real
Bro idk how ppl are still upset at the age difference with Lara and Orlando when it’s a 5yr age difference but if you look at her parents have a 4 yr difference and her sister dated someone that was 8yrs older then her for 5 yrs so I really can’t be mad 😂 plus like too me after doing my own research after that jorlando account lied about him dating a minor but I found some things that aren’t bad at all
but I found a lot of katseye fics from your repost so I wanted to say thank you and I like your pfp also sorry for this I had no one else to share it with
Omg this is so true and your welcome! You have nothing to be sorry for 💕
syn. a motel owner's daughter and a girl from Switzerland spend one unforgettable summer together, under a tree, in the rain, and in a quiet space before goodbye.
(🥥) i bite my tongue, it’s a bad habit (nonidol!Manon x hicks!reader) cw: fluff surroundings are based on the movie the florida project wc. 10k
a/n: if there's a will there's a way.
You were sitting on the front desk, legs swinging, licking a vanilla ice cream loaded with rainbow sprinkles.
“You know you can’t sit there, y/n. Get off,” Amber said from behind the counter without even looking up.
You rolled your eyes. “Dad’s not here. And who’s gonna come in at six in the morning on a Tuesday?”
Amber snorted. “Aren’t you eighteen now? Shouldn’t you be getting a job or some shit?”
“Shouldn’t you be answering your phone?” you shot back, grinning.
She smiled despite herself. You hopped off the desk and dropped into the chair behind it, spinning once.
The lobby door swung open.
A family rushed in like they’d just realized something was very, very wrong.
Two daughters.
The younger one had a septum piercing, thick curls, and tired eyes like she hadn’t slept.
You caught yourself staring. She looked stressed, arms crossed tight over her chest.
They were speaking German, you guessed. You didn’t understand a word.
“Hey! You guys need help?” you said, slipping off the chair. “My dad’s the manager. You want me to get him?”
The father nodded quickly. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
You pushed through the lobby doors and stepped into the parking lot.
Bobby was out there on a ladder, repainting the faded purple wall.
“Daddy!” you yelled. “Some family with a hot daughter needs your help!”
He didn’t even flinch. “I’ll be there in a minute, sweetie.”
“Copy that,” you muttered, heading back inside.
“He’ll be here in just a minute,” you told them, leaning against the counter. “You can sit if you want.”
Your eyes drifted back to the younger daughter. She noticed this time. Her brows pulled together slightly.
A minute later Bobby came in, wiping his hands on a rag. “Sorry to keep you waiting, folks. What can I help you with?”
The father cleared his throat. “We appear to have made a mistake. We meant to book a Disney resort hotel. Not… a motel near Disney World.”
Bobby nodded calmly. “We’ve got a phone if you’d like to call the resort.”
The man picked it up immediately.
The mother leaned toward him. “Was sagen sie?”
(what are they saying?)
“He’s calling the Disney resort for you,” you explained.
She blinked at you, confused for a second, then nodded politely.
The daughter with the septum answered her mom in German. Her mom looked at her and said something else, nudging her gently.
Manon’s face shifted to disbelief.
“Nein, Mama. Sie starrt mich an,” she muttered.
(no, mom. She’s starting at me)
You tilted your head. “I don’t speak German, but I can tell you’re talking about me. We probably got off on the wrong foot. I’m y/n Hicks.”
She hesitated before answering. “Manon Bannerman.”
Her dad hung up.
“They won’t have a room for us until next week.”
Her younger sister groaned. “We can’t stay here. It’s a motel. It’s disgusting.”
You straightened. “Hey. It’s not disgusting.”
“Let me handle this,” Bobby said calmly. “You’re welcome to stay here. Free of charge. We have an apartment unit, three bedrooms, one bath, kitchen, living space. It’s yours for the week.”
The Bannermans exchanged looks. The father sighed.
While they were talking quietly, you walked over and grabbed Manon’s hand.
“I’m gonna go play,” you called out.
“Y/n—” she started, but you were already pulling her outside.
You stopped near the benches by the vending machines. You sat on the table. She stayed on the bench, arms still crossed.
“So,” you said, licking the last of your ice cream, “family trip to Disney? Aren’t you a little old to have your parents paying for that?”
She looked at you flatly. “Aren’t you a little old to sit on tables?”
You laughed. “Okay. Fair.”
She studied you for a second. “Is he really your father? You don’t look alike.”
You shrugged. “Adopted. He took me in when I was ten. Been here eight years. Turned eighteen two days ago.”
Her posture shifted slightly. “I turned eighteen last week.”
“Oh yeah?” You smirked. “So this is your big birthday trip?”
“I suggested it as a joke,” she said. “Didn’t think he’d actually book a flight to Orlando.”
You nudged her shoe with yours. “Welcome to Florida, princess. You booked the wrong castle.”
She almost smiled.
“So what were you expecting?” you asked. “Fireworks outside your window? Mickey Mouse at the door?”
“I was expecting air conditioning that doesn’t sound like it’s fighting for its life.”
You laughed. “Okay, that’s fair.”
There was a brief pause. The Florida heat was already creeping in even though it was barely morning.
“So,” you said, leaning forward, elbows on your knees now. “You mad you’re stuck here?”
“I’m… adjusting,” she said carefully.
“Good. Because you’re not gonna be bored.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I’ll show you the good parts. There’s a gift shop down the road that sells fake designer bags and questionable fireworks. And there’s this abandoned mini golf place we sneak into sometimes.”
“We?”
“Me and whoever’s not lame.”
She gave you a look. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re eighteen, German, dramatic, and you think our motel’s disgusting.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Your sister did. Same thing.”
She shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re still sitting here.” That made her look away for a second. From the lobby door, Bobby called out, “Y/n!”
You stood up. “That’s my cue.”
Manon stood too, brushing her hands on her jeans. “You staying?” you asked.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Looks like it.”
You started walking backward toward the lobby. “Cool. Then later, I’m showing you the view from the roof.”
“There’s a roof?”
“Obviously.”
“That sounds unsafe.”
You grinned. “You’ll survive.”
She watched you for a second before following.
“Wearing jeans in this heat is crazy,” you said to Manon as Bobby handed you a key. “You’re gonna regret that in like ten minutes.”
“What do you need?” you asked.
“Take these folks to their room,” he said, dropping the key into your hand.
You nodded once. “Alright. Come on.”
You led them out of the lobby and toward the elevator at the end of the walkway.
“Most people don’t use this,” you said, pressing the button. “It smells like smoke half the time. But since you’ve got luggage, we’ll risk it.”
The doors slid open. You stepped aside. “After you.”
They filed in. You followed last and pressed the button for the fourth floor.
The ride up was slow and loud. You leaned back against the wall like you’d done this a hundred times. Manon stood near the corner, arms loosely crossed, watching the numbers light up.
When the doors opened, the hallway was quiet.
“Okay,” you said, stepping out first. “Nobody’s allowed up here except me and my dad. This apartment hasn’t been used since I was ten.”
You walked to the end of the hall and unlocked the door.
The Bannermans stepped inside cautiously. The apartment was simple but big, three bedrooms, small kitchen, couch, dining table. Clean. Not fancy, but solid.
Her sister looked around, surprised. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” you said. “It’s not that bad.”
Bobby had fixed it up years ago and just kept it ready.
“Go ahead, put your stuff down,” you told them.
Then you looked at Manon.
“Come with me.”
She blinked. “Where?”
“I’m gonna show you something. You want ice cream?”
You didn’t wait for an answer. You grabbed her wrist lightly and pulled her back into the hallway, tossing the key to her sister on the way out.
“Hey—” Manon started, but she followed.
The elevator groaned as you both stepped back inside.
“You always drag people around like that?” she asked.
“Only the interesting ones.”
She rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t fighting it.
You didn’t press a button this time. Instead, when the doors opened on the ground floor, you walked past the lobby and straight out toward the side of the building.
There was a small outdoor freezer near the vending machines.
You flipped the lid open and started digging through it. “Dad lets me grab stuff as long as I write it down.”
“You just take whatever you want?” she asked.
“I live here.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
You pulled out two ice cream bars and handed her one. “Chocolate or strawberry?”
“Chocolate.”
“Good. Strawberry’s mine.”
You closed the freezer and leaned against it, tearing the wrapper open with your teeth.
She copied you more neatly.
For a second, neither of you talked.
“So,” you said finally, mouth half full, “how long were you planning to stay at Disney?”
“A week.”
“Well. Congrats. You’re staying here a week.”
She took a bite of her ice cream. “I can’t believe my dad misread the booking.”
“What did he type in? ‘Cheap Disney experience’?”
She almost choked trying not to laugh. “Stop.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
She looked away, but she was.
You nudged her shoulder lightly. “It’s not that bad here.”
She looked around the parking lot. The purple paint. The cracked pavement. The giant souvenir shop across the street shaped like a wizard.
“It’s different,” she said.
“Different’s not bad.”
She studied you for a second. “You really like it here?”
You shrugged. “It’s home.”
There was no joke in your voice that time.
She noticed.
“You’ve lived here since you were ten?”
“Yeah.”
“And you don’t want to leave?”
You thought about it.
“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But not like… running away. Just seeing what else is out there.”
She nodded slowly.
“I’ve lived in three different cities,” she said. “My dad and mom move for work.”
“See? You’re the experienced one. I’ve barely left Florida.”
“You’ve never been to Disney?”
You looked offended. “Obviously I’ve been to Disney. I live ten minutes away.”
“Do you go often?”
“Nah. Too many tourists.”
She smirked. “Like me.”
“Exactly.”
You both finished your ice cream around the same time.
“Alright,” you said, tossing your stick into the trash. “You wanna see the roof or are you scared?”
She raised an eyebrow again. “You’re very obsessed with this roof.”
“Because it’s the only place around here that doesn’t feel small.” That made her pause. “…Okay,” she said. “Show me.”
You didn’t say anything else. You just started walking.
Instead of heading back toward the lobby, you cut around the side of the building where the paint was more faded and the security camera didn’t work.
“There’s stairs inside,” Manon said. “Yeah. But this is faster.” You pulled open a maintenance door that didn’t fully latch unless someone kicked it.
She hesitated for half a second before following you in. The stairwell was narrow and warm. You climbed without slowing down.
“Do you bring everyone up here?” she asked from behind you.
“No.”
“You said that about dragging people too.”
“I lie sometimes.”
She let out a quiet laugh.
When you reached the top, you pushed open the heavy door that led to the roof. The morning sun hit immediately, bright and already hot.
From up there, you could see the tops of souvenir shops, the highway, and in the distance, just barely, the outline of Disney property. Not the castle exactly. Just the hint of something bigger.
Manon stepped out slowly. “This is it?” she asked. You leaned against the low wall. “Yeah.”
She walked toward the edge carefully, looking out. For a minute, neither of you talked.
“It’s quieter up here,” she said. “Exactly.”
Cars passed below. A truck honked somewhere far off. But up there, it felt separate.
“You come up here a lot?” she asked. “Whenever I don’t feel like being downstairs.”
“With guests?”
“With anyone.”
“So I’m special?" She glanced at you. You smirked. “Relax.” She leaned her elbows on the ledge next to you.
“You really weren’t joking,” she said after a second. “You can actually see Disney from here.”
“Yeah. Close enough to see it. Not close enough to touch it." She looked thoughtful at that.
“You don’t like it?” you asked.
“I do,” she said quietly. “It’s just… different than what I thought.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Because today is not going how I planned.” You looked at her sideways. “You plan everything?”
“Most things.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
She huffed softly. “It is.”
You studied her for a second, the curls moving slightly in the breeze, the small silver ring in her septum catching the light.
“You don’t have to plan this week,” you said. “I’ll handle it.”
She looked at you. “Oh really?”
“Yeah. I know all the spots around here.”
“Like the abandoned mini golf place?”
“Exactly like that.”
“That sounds illegal.”
“It’s only illegal if you get caught.”
She shook her head, but she was smiling again.
“You’re trouble,” she said.
“You’re still here.”
She didn’t have a comeback for that one.
The sun kept rising. The heat started settling heavier on your shoulders.
“You’re definitely gonna pass out in those jeans,” you said, nudging her side with your elbow.
She glanced down at herself. “I didn’t know Florida would be like this.”
“It’s always like this.”
She sighed. “I should change.”
“You should.”
She pushed off the ledge but didn’t move toward the door yet.
“Hey,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think your motel is disgusting.”
You tilted your head. “That your official statement?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because I would’ve kicked you off the roof.”
She laughed under her breath.
Down below, you could hear Bobby calling your name faintly.
You rolled your eyes. “He’s already looking for me.”
“You’ve been gone like twenty minutes.”
“Exactly.”
You started toward the door. She followed.
As you reached it, she slowed slightly.
“I’m glad we booked the wrong place,” she said, almost casual.
You stopped just enough to look back at her.
“Yeah?” you asked.
She nodded once.
You tried not to smile too hard.
“Good,” you said. “Because you’re stuck here all week.”
The next morning, you knocked on the apartment door twice, then once more just to be annoying.
It opened a few seconds later.
Manon stood there in shorts this time, hair pulled back loosely, still half asleep.
“Good,” you said. “You changed.”
She frowned slightly. “You’re loud.”
“Yeah. Get used to it. Come on, I’m showing you my favorite spots.”
You reached for her hand and pulled her into the hallway before she could argue.
“Wait—” she said, laughing under her breath. “I didn’t even tell my parents.”
“They know you’re with me. I’m trustworthy.”
She gave you a look that said debatable.
You stopped by the outdoor freezer and flipped it open.
“Breakfast?” she asked.
“Obviously.”
You dug around and pulled out two strawberry bars.
“You’re getting strawberry,” you said, handing it to her.
“I thought you said strawberry was yours.”
“It is.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m being nice,” you said, shrugging. “Plus I like you.”
She stared at you for a second. “And?”
“And you’re pretty,” you added quickly, suddenly focused on unwrapping your own ice cream.
There was a small pause.
“…Thanks,” she said.
You glanced up. She was looking at you like she was trying to figure you out.
“Don’t make it weird,” you muttered.
“You made it weird.”
You started walking, motioning for her to follow.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Down the strip. There’s stuff you need to see if you’re gonna survive a week here.”
You walked along the cracked sidewalk past souvenir shops with giant plastic wizards and inflatable alligators out front.
Manon looked around at everything. “This is insane.”
“Welcome to tourist central.”
A man in a Mickey costume waved at passing cars even though it was barely 9 a.m.
She leaned closer to you. “Is that even licensed?”
“Definitely not.”
She laughed.
You crossed the street when there were no cars and cut behind a closed gift shop.
“Okay, this one’s important,” you said.
Behind the building was an old mini golf course, faded and half overgrown. The fence had a gap where the metal had bent inward.
“You’re kidding,” she said.
“Nope.”
You slipped through the gap easily and held it open for her.
She hesitated. “This is trespassing.”
“Technically.”
She looked back toward the street.
Then she ducked through.
“See?” you said. “You’re learning.”
The course was quiet. Fake palm trees leaning sideways. A cracked windmill that didn’t move anymore.
You hopped onto one of the low concrete edges of a putting lane and balanced along it.
“So what do we do here?” she asked.
“Nothing. That’s the point.”
She walked slowly across the turf, looking around like she expected someone to jump out.
“You really grew up here,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“And this is fun to you?”
You shrugged. “It’s free.”
She shook her head but smiled again.
You jumped down and walked backward in front of her.
“You ever do anything you’re not supposed to?” you asked.
“Not really.”
“Not even once?”
She thought about it. “I pierced this myself.”
You blinked. “Your septum?”
She nodded.
“Okay. That’s kind of cool.”
She smirked slightly. “See? I’m not boring.”
“I never said you were.”
You stopped walking backward when you almost tripped over a loose brick.
She reached out automatically, grabbing your arm to steady you.
For a second, you were both just standing there.
Her hand was still on you.
“You good?” she asked.
“Yeah,” you said, quieter now.
She let go slowly.
“So what’s next?” she asked.
You cleared your throat and pointed toward the far end of the course.
“There’s a spot back there where you can see the fireworks at night without paying.”
Her eyes lit up slightly. “Actually?”
“Yeah. If you’re still not too good for motel life by then.”
She nudged your shoulder lightly. “I never said that.”
“You thought it.”
She didn’t deny it this time.
You started walking again, slower now.
“You know,” she said after a moment, “this is better than waiting in a hotel lobby.”
“Told you.”
She looked at you from the side. “You’re very confident.”
“I have to be. I live here.”
She didn’t joke back.
Instead she said, “I’m glad you knocked on the door this morning.”
You tried not to look too pleased.
“Yeah,” you said casually. “Me too.”
Her phone started ringing.
She checked the screen. “It’s my mom.”
You made a face. “Uh oh.”
She answered and turned slightly away, but not enough that you couldn’t hear the tone of her voice.
“Hallo?” she said.
A pause.
“Ja. Ich bin mit der Tochter des Managers.”
(Yes. Im with the manager’s daughter)
Another pause.
“Nein, nein, mir geht’s gut. Sie ist wirklich nett.”
(No, no, we’re fine. She’s really nice)
She listened again, nodding slightly. “Ja. Wir sind nur in der Nähe. Ich komme später zurück.”
(Yes. We’re just in the neighborhood. I’ll be back later)
Another pause.
“Okay. Tschüss.”
(ok. bye)
She hung up and slipped her phone back into her pocket.
“So,” you said. “What was that?”
“She wanted to know where I was.”
“And?”
“I told her I’m with the manager’s daughter.”
“Wow. So formal.”
“She asked if I was safe.”
“And you said?”
She looked at you for a second, then shrugged lightly. “I said I’m fine. That you’re really nice.”
You tried not to smile too much. “Really nice?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
She rolled her eyes.
“She worries,” Manon added, quieter. “We don’t usually just… wander off in random places.”
“This isn’t random,” you said. “It’s my spot.”
She looked around the abandoned course again.
“It still feels random,” she said.
You stepped closer, lowering your voice like you were sharing something important.
“Then I guess you’ll just have to get used to it.”
She didn’t step back this time.
For a second, it was just the two of you standing there in the middle of cracked fake grass and chipped plastic palm trees.
“You always this forward?” she asked.
“Only when I mean it.”
She held your gaze for a beat longer than before.
Then she looked away first.
“What’s after this?” she asked.
You nodded toward the back fence. “There’s a shortcut to a lake behind here. Not pretty. But it’s quiet.”
She hesitated only a second.
“Okay,” she said.
You grinned. “See? You’re already breaking rules.”
She bumped your shoulder lightly as you walked past her.
“Only small ones,” she said.
“Give it time,” you replied.
You pushed through the broken part of the fence and followed the dirt path behind the mini golf course. It wasn’t paved, just flattened grass and patches of sand.
Manon stayed close behind you.
“Are you sure this is safe?” she asked.
“It’s fine,” you said. “I’ve been coming back here for years.”
The path opened up to a wide field. A wire fence stretched across it, and beyond that…
Cows.
Just standing there. Eating. Moving slow in the heat.
Manon blinked. “There are cows.”
“Yeah,” you said, walking up to the fence. “I like to look at them.”
She stepped up beside you. “This is your favorite spot?”
“One of them.”
The huge tree next to the fence gave enough shade to make it tolerable. You sat down at its base, leaning your back against the trunk.
She hesitated before sitting next to you.
“They don’t really do anything,” she said, watching one flick its tail.
“That’s the point.”
She glanced at you.
“Everything around here is loud,” you continued. “Tourists, cars, music from the gift shops. Back here it’s just… this.”
A cow lifted its head and stared in your direction.
“You named them?” she asked.
“Obviously.”
She looked at you.
“I haven’t,” you admitted. “But I could.”
She let out a small laugh.
The breeze shifted slightly, carrying the smell of grass and dirt.
“This is weirdly peaceful,” she said.
“Told you.”
She pulled her knees up slightly, resting her arms over them.
“In Switzerland we don’t have this,” she said.
“You don’t have cows?”
“We do. Just not… behind motels.”
You grinned. “Florida’s special.”
She studied your face for a second.
“You really love it here,” she said again.
You shrugged. “I love parts of it.”
“Like cows.”
“Like cows.”
There was a quiet stretch where neither of you talked. Just the sound of insects and distant traffic.
“You don’t ever feel stuck?” she asked suddenly.
You thought about it before answering.
“Sometimes,” you said honestly. “But stuck doesn’t mean miserable.”
She nodded slowly.
“I move a lot,” she said. “New places all the time. New schools. New people.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It is.”
You bumped your shoulder against hers lightly. “Then for one week, you don’t have to move.”
She looked at you.
“You’re just stuck with me,” you added.
She smiled faintly. “I’m starting to think that’s not so bad.”
You looked out at the cows again so she wouldn’t see how that hit.
“Yeah,” you said casually. “You’ll survive.”
One of the cows let out a low, lazy sound.
Manon laughed quietly. “I can’t believe this is what you chose to show me.”
“You thought I was gonna take you to Disney?”
She glanced toward the distant skyline barely visible past the trees.
“I thought maybe.”
You shook your head. “Everybody goes there. Not everybody comes here.”
She leaned back against the tree, her arm brushing yours.
“You’re different,” she said.
“You just figured that out?”
She smiled a little. “I noticed yesterday.”
You turned your head slightly to look at her.
“And you’re not as dramatic as I thought,” you said.
“Oh?”
“Still dramatic. Just less.”
She nudged you with her knee.
You both sat there under the tree, watching cows that didn’t care about either of you.
“I wanna go to Switzerland,” you said quietly.You didn’t even mean to say it out loud.
Manon turned her head toward you.
“What?” she asked, a small smile forming.
You blinked. “Nothing.”
“You just said you want to go to Switzerland.”
You looked back out at the field. “Yeah. I mean… I do.”
Her smile grew a little. Her eyes widened slightly, like she wasn’t expecting that.
“Why?” she asked.
You shrugged. “I’ve never been out of the country. Never even been on a plane.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Florida’s expensive enough.”
She studied you for a second.
“What do you think it’s like?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Cold. Clean. Probably no abandoned mini golf courses.”
She laughed softly. “We have mountains. Lakes. It’s quiet in a different way.”
“Different how?”
“Not… flat,” she said, glancing at the field. “You can see forever here. In Switzerland, you look up and there’s something bigger than you right there.”
You pictured it for a second.
“Sounds fake,” you said.
“It’s not.”
“You have cows too, right?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“Are they better than Florida cows?”
“They’re Swiss cows.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
She laughed again, shaking her head.
“You could come,” she said casually.
You looked at her immediately. “What?”
“I mean, not like tomorrow,” she clarified quickly. “But someday.”
You tried to play it off. “Yeah? You invite all the motel girls back home?”
“Just the manager’s daughter,” she said.
You looked down at your hands so she wouldn’t see how hard you were trying not to smile.
“I don’t even have a passport,” you muttered.
“You can get one.”
“Yeah, with what money?”
She hesitated.
“You could save,” she said.
You glanced at her. “You’ve known me for like… a day.”
“Two,” she corrected.
“Two days.”
“And?”
“And you’re already planning my international travel?”
She shrugged lightly. “You said you want to go.”
You were quiet for a second.
“I do,” you admitted. “I just never thought about it like it could actually happen.”
She leaned back against the tree again.
“It could,” she said simply.
You looked at her profile, the way the sunlight caught in her curls, the small silver ring in her nose.
“You’d show me around?” you asked.
“Yes.”
“No tourist traps?”
She smirked. “Maybe one.”
“Unbelievable.”
She bumped your shoulder lightly.
“You showed me your cows,” she said. “It’s only fair.”
You both looked out at the field again.
After a second, she spoke softer.
“I like that you said that.”
“Said what?”
“That you want to go.”
You swallowed slightly. “Why?”
“Because most people who live in Florida don’t exactly want to leave, especially if there’s Walt Disney.”
You shrugged. “Disney’s right there. Switzerland’s far.”
“And you still said it.”
You didn’t answer that.
A cow wandered closer to the fence, staring at both of you.
“You think they ever want to leave?” she asked suddenly.
“The cows?”
“Yeah.”
You thought about it.
“Maybe,” you said. “But they don’t look stressed.”
She smiled faintly at that.
“You don’t look stressed either,” she said.
“Give it time.”
She laughed quietly.
The breeze shifted again, brushing her arm against yours.
“You’d like Switzerland,” she said after a moment. “It’s colder. You’d complain.”
“I would.”
“But you’d like it.”
You glanced at her.
“Only if you’re there,” you said before you could stop yourself.
There was a small pause.
Her eyes met yours again, softer this time.
“I would be,” she said.
“You’re cool,” you said.
You could feel your face getting hot and hoped she wouldn’t notice.
She did.
“You are too,” she said.
You looked down at the grass. “I haven’t really had friends who were girls.”
She tilted her head. “Really?”
“Yeah. Mostly just people who hang around the motel. It’s different.”
She watched you for a second.
“Well,” she said, small smile forming, “I’m happy to be the first one.”
That made you grin.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
There was a quiet second before she shifted, studying you again.
“So,” she said, “do you have any piercings?”
You blinked. “Obviously my ears.”
She waited.
“Um. My belly button and…” you trailed off on purpose.
“And?” she pushed, laughing lightly.
You looked at her like you were debating whether to say it.
“My nipples.”
Her eyes widened. “No way.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
She stared at you like she was trying to figure out if you were serious.
“I got them when I was fifteen,” you added. “Dad didn’t know. Still doesn’t.”
Her mouth dropped open slightly. “How did you even—”
“Friend of a friend,” you said quickly. “Don’t ask.”
She shook her head, half impressed, half shocked. “You are insane.”
“Relax. They healed fine.”
“That’s not the point.”
“You asked.”
She laughed, covering her mouth for a second.
“I cannot believe you just said that so casually.”
“What? It’s just piercings.”
“At fifteen.”
You shrugged. “I was bored.”
She studied you again, something different in her expression now.
“You’re braver than me,” she said.
“You pierced your own septum.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“It’s visible,” she said.
“Exactly.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled.
“You always this honest?” she asked.
“Only when I feel like it.”
She leaned back against the tree again.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you,” she said.
“Good or bad?”
She thought about it.
“Good,” she decided.
You looked out at the cows again, trying to act normal even though your chest felt tight in a weird way.
“So what about you?” you asked. “Just the septum?”
“Ears. Septum. That’s it.”
“No secret ones?”
She looked at you flatly. “No.”
“Boring.”
She nudged you with her shoulder. “I prefer safe.”
“Safe’s overrated.”
She glanced at you. “Says the girl sneaking people into abandoned mini golf courses.”
“Exactly.”
There was a comfortable quiet after that.
Then she said, softer, “You trust me a lot.”
“With what?”
“With… that.” She gestured vaguely.
You shrugged. “You’re not from here. Who you gonna tell?”
She smiled slightly. “Fair.”
Another cow wandered closer to the fence again.
“You’re really not embarrassed?” she asked.
“About what?”
“Anything you just said.”
You thought about it.
“No.”
She watched you carefully.
“I think that’s cool,” she said.
Your face heated up again.
“You gotta stop calling me cool,” you muttered.
“Why?”
“Because then I start acting weird.”
She laughed quietly.
“You’re already weird,” she said.
You looked at her.
“Yeah,” you said, “But you like my weird.”
She held your gaze.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I do.”
The sky started turning orange behind the field, the heat finally easing up a little.
Manon checked her phone again.
“I should probably go,” she said quietly.
You nodded once. “Yeah.”
“My mom’s already texted twice.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
She stood first, brushing grass off the back of her shorts. You followed a second later.
Neither of you moved toward the path right away.
“It got late fast,” she said.
“It always does here.”
You both started walking back through the dirt path, slower than before.
When you slipped back through the fence, she paused.
“My mom worries,” she said again, like she felt the need to explain it.
“It’s fine,” you said. “You’re new here.”
“It’s not just that.”
You looked at her.
“She just… likes to know where I am.”
You shrugged. “My dad’s the opposite. He just yells my name and hopes I answer.”
She smiled faintly.
You walked back toward the motel. The neon sign flickered on as you got closer.
For a second, you both stopped near the stairs that led up to the apartment.
“So,” you said, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Same time tomorrow?”
She looked at you like she was pretending to think about it.
“Maybe,” she said.
“Wow. Harsh.”
She laughed softly.
“I’ll text you,” she added.
“You have my number?”
She held up her phone. “Your dad made us fill out paperwork.”
“Oh. Right.”
There was another small pause.
“Today was…” she started, then stopped.
“What?”
“Different.”
“Different’s not bad,” you said.
She looked at you like she remembered you saying that before.
“No,” she agreed. “It’s not.”
The motel lights buzzed faintly overhead.
“I’m glad my dad booked the wrong hotel,” she said again.
You tried not to smile too hard. “Yeah. Me too.”
She stepped backward toward the stairs.
“Goodnight, y/n.”
“Night, Manon.”
She turned and went up the stairs, disappearing around the corner.
You stayed there a second longer than you needed to.
You were sitting on the curb outside the lobby while Bobby locked up for the night. He’d brought you a styrofoam plate from the diner down the road.
Strawberry pancakes. Extra syrup.
“Their daughter’s cool,” you said casually, cutting into the pancake like it wasn’t a big deal.
“Yeah?” Bobby asked, not looking up as he checked the door twice.
“Yeah.” You shrugged. “I like her.”
You kept your head down so he wouldn’t see you smiling.
He finally glanced over at you. “That so?”
You took a bite, chewing slowly. “She’s just… different.”
“Different good or different trouble?”
“Good,” you said quickly.
He hummed. “You show her the roof?”
“Maybe.”
“Y/n.”
“What? I didn’t push her off.”
He shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile there.
“She’s polite,” he said. “Her dad seems decent too. Just stressed.”
“They booked the wrong hotel,” you reminded him.
“Yeah, I know.”
You scraped syrup around your plate with your fork.
“She’s from Switzerland,” you added.
“Switzerland, huh?” Bobby leaned against the railing. “That’s far.”
“Yeah.”
He studied you for a second. “You thinking about going?”
You froze for half a second. “What? No.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say you were.”
You rolled your eyes. “I just said it’s far.”
He nodded slowly, like he didn’t fully believe you but wasn’t gonna push it.
“You’re smiling,” he pointed out.
“I’m eating pancakes.”
“That’s not why.”
You tried to keep your face neutral. Failed.
“She’s just cool,” you repeated. “We hung out by the cows.”
He blinked. “The cows?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course you did.”
You grinned.
He crossed his arms. “You be careful.”
“Of what?”
“Getting attached.”
You frowned slightly. “She’s here for a week.”
“Exactly.”
You poked at your pancake again.
“I know,” you muttered.
He softened a little. “It’s okay to like people, kid.”
“I know.”
“Just don’t forget they might leave.”
You swallowed.
“I won’t,” you said.
He gave you a look that said he hoped that was true.
After a second he ruffled your hair lightly.
“Finish your food,” he said. “Then come help me with the ice machine.”
You groaned. “Why do I gotta help?”
“Because you’re eighteen now.”
“Worst age ever.”
He laughed under his breath and headed toward the back.
You sat there another minute, staring at the apartment balcony across the way.
The light was still on.
You smiled to yourself again.
“Yeah,” you murmured quietly, taking another bite. “She’s cool.”
“Are we allowed to be in here?” Manon asked quietly, looking around at the breakfast buffet.
The lobby was way nicer than your motel’s. Marble floors. Big windows. Soft music playing somewhere.
“Yeah,” you said casually. “The manager knows my dad. I get a discount.”
She looked at you. “That doesn’t sound like a yes.”
“It’s basically a yes.”
“Y/n.”
“Relax. We’re not stealing. We’re paying. Just… less.”
She still looked unsure as you grabbed two plates from the stack.
“Come on,” you said. “You’ve never had hotel buffet food?”
“Not like this.”
You started piling food onto your plate, eggs, waffles, fruit, bacon without asking.
“You eat like you’ve never seen food before,” she said.
“It’s unlimited,” you replied. “That’s the point.”
She shook her head but started serving herself too, more careful. A little fruit. One waffle.
“That’s it?” you asked.
“I don’t eat that much in the morning.”
“Couldn’t be me.”
You both sat at a small table near the window.
She looked around again. “If someone asks—”
“No one’s gonna ask.”
“Still.”
“If someone asks, you’re my cousin.”
She paused. “From?”
You thought for a second. “New York.”
“You don’t even live in New York.”
“I’ve met people who do.”
She gave you a look but didn’t argue further.
You took a big bite of waffle and leaned back in your chair.
“So,” you said. “How’s motel life treating you?”
“It’s fine,” she admitted. “The apartment’s actually nice.”
“Told you.”
“My sister still complains.”
“She looks like she would.”
Manon smiled slightly.
“You bring people here a lot?” she asked.
“To the buffet? No. You’re special.”
“You keep saying things like that.”
“And?”
“And you don’t sound like you’re joking.”
You looked down at your plate for a second.
“Maybe I’m not,” you said.
She held your gaze a little longer this time.
“You’re very direct,” she said.
“Better than pretending.”
She nodded slowly.
A server walked by, and you both went quiet for a second until he passed.
Manon leaned in slightly. “This feels illegal.”
“It’s not illegal,” you whispered back. “It’s networking.”
She laughed under her breath.
You watched her for a second while she cut her waffle neatly.
“What?” she asked without looking up.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring again.”
“You noticed?”
“Yes.”
You didn’t look away this time.
“You look different when you’re not stressed,” you said.
She paused, then glanced up at you.
“Different how?”
“Less tense.”
“That’s not very romantic.”
“I wasn’t trying to be romantic.”
She smiled slightly. “Good.”
You both ate in a quieter rhythm after that.
After a minute she said, “My dad wants to actually go to Disney tomorrow. Since we’re here.”
“Of course he does.”
“Do you want to come?”
You blinked. “Me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve already been.”
“So?”
You shrugged. “Tickets are expensive.”
“My dad would—”
“No,” you cut in quickly. “I’m not letting your dad pay for me.”
She looked at you carefully. “Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because?”
You leaned back again. “I don’t wanna feel like a charity case.”
Her expression softened slightly.
“It wouldn’t be that,” she said.
“Yeah. It would.”
She didn’t argue right away.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Then don’t come for Disney.”
"Wow."
“But,” she continued, “after. When we leave. We could meet somewhere.”
You considered that.
“Maybe,” you said.
She smiled faintly. “You’re difficult.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
“True.”
You both finished your plates.
As you stood up, she looked around one more time.
“I can’t believe we just did this,” she said.
You grinned. “And nothing bad happened.”
“Yet.”
“Have a little faith.”
She shook her head, but she was smiling again as you both walked out of the fancy lobby and back into the Florida heat.
You waited all day on the curb, for Manon, to see her.
Her eyes lit up once she stepped out of the car and saw you.
The neon sign buzzed softly overhead.
“Mami, darf i hut Nacht in ihrem Zimmer schloofe?” Manon asked, turning to her mom before you could even process what she was saying.
(Mom, can I sleep in her room tonight?)
Her mom looked at her, then at you.
“Ja, aber vergiss nicht, deine Zahnbürste und deinen Schlafanzug mitzubringen.”
(Yes, but don’t forget to bring your toothbrush and your pajamas)
Manon’s face lit up. “Danke.”
Before you could react, she grabbed your hand. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?” you asked, half laughing as she pulled you toward the stairs.
“I’m sleeping over at yours tonight,” she said like it was obvious.
“You literally have a room upstairs.”
“So do you.”
You stopped at the bottom of the staircase. “Manon. My place is small.”
She looked at you. “So is ours.”
“You’re gonna regret this,” you muttered as you unlocked your door.
She stepped inside and looked around like she hadn’t already seen it before. “It’s cute.”
“It’s normal.”
“It’s yours,” she corrected.
You rolled your eyes and shut the door behind her. She dropped her overnight bag on the chair and kicked off her shoes.
“Your bed is small,” she noted.
“Yeah.”
She smiled. “Good thing I don’t take up much space.”
“You move a lot when you sleep, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
You sighed, grabbing an extra pillow from the closet. “If you steal the blanket, I’m kicking you out.”
“You wouldn’t.”
You paused. She was right.
She disappeared into the bathroom to change, and you sat on the edge of your bed, suddenly aware of how small the room actually felt.
When she came back out in her pajamas, toothbrush still in hand, she looked way too comfortable.
“Move,” she said, nudging your leg.
You slid over. She climbed in beside you like she’d done it a hundred times before.
For a second, you both just lay there, staring at the ceiling. The motel walls were thin, you could hear faint footsteps from upstairs, a TV playing somewhere down the row.
“This is kinda stupid,” you said quietly.
“Why?”
“I see you every day.”
“Not like this.”
You turned your head slightly to look at her. She was already looking at you. The room felt smaller now. Warmer.
She scooted a little closer, like it was natural. Like it didn’t mean anything.
You turned off the main lamp, leaving only the small bedside light on.
“What are we watching?” you asked.
“We’re not watching. We’re scrolling.”
"That's worse."
She ignored you, scooting closer so you could see the screen too. Your shoulders touched. Then your arms. Neither of you moved.
She started showing you random videos, dumb pranks, edits, some travel vlog from Switzerland.
You noticed. “You did that on purpose.”
She looked innocent. “Did what?”
“You’re still on that.”
She shrugged. “You said you wanna go.”
“I do.”
“Then we will.”
You snorted. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“It is,” she said simply. “We’ll just go.”
You looked at her. “You can’t just ‘we’ll just go’ everything.”
She tilted her head. “Why not?”
You didn’t have an answer.
She locked her phone after a while and set it on the nightstand. The room got quieter without the sound.
“You’re thinking again,” she said.
“You say that like it’s a crime.”
“It kind of is.”
You lay there, staring at the ceiling. “You’re not cold?”
“No.”
“Because I’m not giving you the whole blanket.”
She huffed a laugh and tugged it slightly anyway. “You’re dramatic.”
You turned onto your side, facing her. She was already on her side, facing you.
It was quiet. Close. The space between you felt smaller than the bed actually was.
“You’re different here,” she said softly.
“Here?”
“Yeah. Not in front of everyone.”
You swallowed. “Is that bad?”
She shook her head. “No. I like it.”
Your face warmed again.
“You blush a lot,” she added.
“Go to sleep.”
She smiled and shifted closer, her arm lightly brushing yours under the blanket.
“Goodnight,” she whispered.
“Yeah. Night.”
Neither of you fell asleep right away.
“Can’t believe you’re leaving me. For dumb Switzerland,” you said, sitting on one of the wooden bench tables outside the motel.
She stood in front of you, suitcase by her feet.
“You know I live there, right?” she said, smiling.
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, but you don’t have to go back.”
“I kind of do.”
You looked down at your hands. “Still dumb.”
She stepped a little closer. “You liked hearing about it two days ago.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“You weren’t leaving yet.”
There was a small pause. The parking lot felt bigger than usual. Quieter.
“My mom already thinks you’re dramatic,” she said lightly.
“I’m not dramatic.”
“You’re sitting on a picnic table like you’re in a breakup scene.”
You huffed. “Shut up.”
She laughed softly, then sat beside you. Close enough that your legs touched.
“I’m not disappearing,” she said. “It’s not like I won’t text.”
“Time zones.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s bad enough.”
She leaned back on her hands, looking up at the sky. “You could visit.”
You glanced at her. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“You say everything’s hard.”
You nudged her shoulder with yours. “You make everything sound easy.”
“Maybe it is.”
You didn’t respond.
After a second, she nudged you back. “You’re not getting rid of me that fast.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“Good.”
You finally looked at her properly. “You better not forget about me.”
She smiled, but this time it was softer. “I won’t.”
“You promise?”
“I know you enough,” she said quietly. “I’m not forgetting you.”
Your chest felt tight in a way you didn’t want to admit.
“Switzerland’s still dumb,” you muttered.
She laughed under her breath. “You’re gonna love it when you come.”
You tried not to smile.
“Whatever.”
She bumped her knee into yours again.
“I’ll call you when I land,” she said.
“You better.”
“I will.”
And neither of you moved from that bench for a while.
“Can we go back to the trees where the cows are?” Manon asked quietly.
You looked at her. The suitcases were already in the trunk. Her mom was talking to someone near the office. You didn’t have much time.
“Now?” you asked.
“Just for a minute.”
You hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Come on.”
You led her around the side of the motel, past the gravel path and toward the open field behind it.
She let out a small breath like she’d been holding it in.
“I like it here,” she said.
“I know.”
You both walked to the base of the tree and sat down like you had before. This time, closer.
“It’s quieter than Switzerland,” you said.
She smiled. “Switzerland’s not loud.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
For a moment, you just watched the cows. One of them flicked its tail. Another shifted its weight.
“You were less mad at Switzerland here,” she said.
“I wasn’t mad.”
“You were.”
You didn’t argue this time.
“I’m gonna miss this,” she admitted.
“The cows?”
“You.”
Your chest tightened again.
“You’re acting like you’re never coming back,” you said.
“I will. I just don’t know when.”
You picked at the grass. “That’s worse.”
She leaned her shoulder into yours. “You hate not knowing.”
“Yeah.”
She was quiet for a second, then said, “When I come back, we’ll sit here again.”
You glanced at her. “You’re that sure?”
“Yes.”
You watched her for a second longer than you meant to. Wind moved lightly through her curls.
“You better,” you said.
She smiled. “I will.”
Somewhere in the distance, her mom called her name.
Manon didn’t get up right away.
So you both stayed there, under the big tree, watching the cows like nothing was about to change.
The first drop hit your arm.
Then suddenly it wasn’t a drizzle anymore , it was heavy. Fast. Loud against the grass and dirt and leaves above you.
“Oh—” you started.
Within seconds, the sky opened up. Rain poured down, soaking through your shirt, flattening Manon’s curls against her cheeks.
You both scrambled up instinctively, laughing in shock.
“We should run,” you said.
But neither of you moved.
Manon pushed wet hair out of her eyes and started laughing. You should’ve gone back.
But she was standing there in the pouring rain, looking at you like this was perfect timing.
Rain slid down her face. Without thinking, you reached up and wiped it away with your thumb. Her laughter faded.
“You’re really leaving,” you said.
“Yeah.”
"You better call.”
“I will.”
“You better come back.”
“I will.”
“You better not forget me.”
Her expression softened. “I won’t.”
She stepped closer, close enough that you could feel her warmth even through wet fabric.
"You talk like I’m gone forever.”
“It feels like it.”
Her hand lifted, hesitated, then rested against your jaw. You stopped breathing.
“You’re not getting rid of me,” she whispered.
You leaned in. She met you halfway.
The kiss was warm despite the rain, quick breaths, shaky hands, everything unspoken in between.
Under the tree, you kissed her like Switzerland didn’t exist.
Hi hello, just wanted to ask if youre willing to write about either a 7thmember!fem reader with either Sophia or dani or both (which ever you're more comfortable with) and reader used to be a trainee at JYP so shes close with twice and itzy. But once she decided to try somewhere else, she got in katseye and shes known as the eldest and an ice queen because shes usually either icy or stoic. The fans joke around because reader usually isn't touchy or visually affectionate withyhe other girls but the girls know reader loves them. Reader is usually really protective so shes usually glaring down security hurrying the girls away from fans or ppl who usually scare the girls. So when the girls see reader be all smiley and touchy with Yeji from Itzy they get jealous. Then fans like jokes around it more while other fans point out that reader used to be from JYP. Its all fluffy and funny. Only if you want to write about it thanks. ❤️
I'm so sorry but I'm not a writer and I don't plan on starting to write 😭 Maybe you meant to put this in someone else's inbox?
i gave you the messiest head (corrupted!lara && innocent!reader) cw: SMUT whole college fucking each other
a/n: no, no no no no no DONT DO THAT! I thought we were having a nice date?! Why does it matter? I thought were having a nice date 😞
The Chapel was a sanctuary of polished oak and whispered prayers, Tuesday afternoon, the hour reserved for the Altar Society’s maintenance duties. You were alone in the quiet, the only sound the soft swipe of your cloth over the dark wood of the lectern, your own sigh.
You liked this work. It was simple, physical, and it left your mind clear. You didn’t have to think about the upcoming theology exam, or the strange, quiet ache that sometimes settled in your chest when you watched the other girls laugh together in a way you never quite managed to join.
The peace shattered with the sharp click of the chapel’s side door opening.
“Y/N!”
Your name echoed in the hollow space. You turned, Sophia stood in the doorway, her uniform pristine, her dark hair perfectly pinned and her smile that could look genuinely sweet if you didn’t know better.
“Hi Sophia. What is it?” you asked.
Sophia stepped forward, her heels tapping on the stone floor. “There’s a new transfer. Lara Raj. Tamil girl. Her mother contacted Sister Irene directly. Said she was… having problems. Thinking unholy thoughts.” Sophia’s eyes gleamed with gossipy delight, she did a quick, performative cross over her chest.
You squinted at her. You’d never said a word about what you saw last semester, Sophia and Manon, tangled together in Sophia’s dorm room bed, mouths locked, hands roaming under uniforms. You’d prayed about it for weeks.
“And why do I have to know this?” you asked, folding your cleaning cloth.
“Sister Irene wants you to show her around,” Sophia said, crossing her arms. “She trusts you.”
You almost laughed. Sister Irene, head of campus discipline and spiritual guidance, did not trust you, she tolerated you. Her golden girls were Wonyoung, Karina, and Sophia herself, polished, eloquent, publicly devout. You were the girl who didn’t cause trouble, and whose faith was assumed but never celebrated. Sister Irene had never once asked you to mentor anyone.
“Fine,” you sighed. “Where is she?”
“Main office. Waiting.” Sophia’s smile widened. Manon appeared fully then, slipping an arm around Sophia’s waist, that simple action made your stomach tighten.
“Go on, Y/N,” Manon said, her voice, soft and sickly sweet. “Lara’s waiting.”
Before you could protest, their hands on your back and shoulders, pushing you out of the chapel doors. You glanced back once, the chapel doors were already swinging shut, and you knew exactly what Sophia and Manon would be doing inside now.
You straightened your blazer, smoothed your skirt, both felt suddenly too tight, but you made your walk toward the main office. You hated meeting new people, the forced pleasantries, the inevitable disappointment when they realised you weren’t interesting.
You pushed open the heavy glass door of the office.
And there, in one of those chairs, was the new girl.
Lara Raj.
She had her back to you initially, looking at a pamphlet on campus rules. Her hair was black, straight lines to her mid back. A small, gold hoop glinted in her nose. Your eyes caught on it immediately, a violation. Then you saw her hands. On the knuckles of her right hand, delicate, intricate tattoos. On the left, a script in a language you didn’t recognise. Holy shit, you thought, the unbidden curse startling you internally.
She turned her head then.
Her skin was a rich, warm brown. Her eyes met yours, they were brown, but had flecks of amber and green made them look hazel in the office light. They weren’t gentle eyes. They were enticing, and sharp.
Your breath hitched. A hot flush climbed from your neck to your cheeks, a stupid, uncontrollable reaction. You turned quickly away from her, facing the blank office wall, and closed your eyes. Lord, give me strength. Calm my mind. Help me to be a good guide. The prayer was automatic.
You turned back.
She was staring at you now, one eyebrow arched, a faint smirk playing on her full lips. She hadn’t moved from the chair.
“You know you aren’t supposed to have nose piercings,” you said, an accusation from the rulebook, your only defence.
Lara scoffed. It was short, a derisive laugh. “Sister Irene tried that on me already. I’m not taking it out.” Her voice was low pitched, and smooth.
Then she stood up.
It was like watching a panther rise. Her uniform was a mess. The skirt was shortened, her blazer was gone, tossed over the chair beside her, the white button up shirt was undone at the top two buttons, exposing the base of her throat and a hint of collarbone. The fabric was thin, almost sheer. Under it, you could clearly see the lace pattern of a bra, black and frilly.
Your eyes stuck there for a second.
“You gonna show me around,” Lara said, not moving toward you but holding your gaze, “or are you gonna keep looking at my tits?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She picked up her blazer, slinging it over her shoulder, and walked past you out of the office door.
“I wasn’t looking!” you blurted out. Your face was burning now.
She was already in the hallway. You hurried after her, the glass door swinging shut behind you with a thump.
Lara stood waiting for you, looking at you, that same brow raised expression on her face.
“Right,” you said, swallowing, trying to force your voice into something normal. “We should start with the campus layout.”
“Lead the way,” Lara said. She fell into step beside you. Her presence was overwhelming. She smelled like cigarette smoke and cheap, spicy perfume and another series of violations. You could feel the eyes of other students on both of you, on her.
You walked stiffly, pointing out buildings as you passed them. “That’s the library. Theology department is in the east wing. The dormitories are past the green…”
Lara listened, but her attention seemed elsewhere. She’d look at a group of laughing boys and her smirk would deepen. She’d glance at a poster for a chapel choir concert and roll her eyes.
“So,” she said after a few minutes of your monotone recitation, cutting you off as you described the cafeteria meal plan. “You’re the good girl, huh?”
“What?” You stopped walking.
“The one Sister Irene sent, the reliable one. The virgin saint.” Lara’s tone wasn’t malicious, it was curious. Her hazel brown eyes scanned your face. “You embarrass easy. You pray in public. You follow the rules.” She gestured at your perfectly hemmed skirt, your fully buttoned shirt, your lack of any adornment. “You’re what they want everyone to be.”
“I try to live a faithful life,” you said, the standard answer.
“Bullshit,” Lara said softly.
You stared at her.
“Everyone tries something,” she continued, starting to walk again, forcing you to follow. “You’re not trying. You’re just being… boring.”
Anger sparked in your chest, hot and unfamiliar. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you saw my bra and got so flustered you had to pray to your god for help,” Lara said bluntly, not looking at you. “I know your friends, the Filipina and the Swiss girls, pushed you out because they wanted to fuck in the chapel without you watching. I know you didn’t tell Sister Irene about them, even though you probably saw them. How sinful”
Each sentence was a punch. They were crude, vulgar, and so accurate it made your skin crawl. How did she know? Did she see it?
“Why are you here?” you asked suddenly, the question escaping you. “If you hate all this so much?”
Lara stopped by a large window overlooking the campus courtyard. She leaned against the wall.
“My mother thinks I’m possessed by devils,” she said, “She thinks the tattoos are curses. She thinks my… thoughts… need to be purified by holy environment.” She laughed again, but this one was bitter. “She paid a lot of money to get me in here. A last ditch effort to save my soul from eternal fire.” She finally looked at you. “So I’m here to prove to her that it won’t work.”
“What thoughts?” you asked, before you could stop yourself.
Lara’s eyes locked on yours. The hazel flecks seemed to glow in the afternoon light. She didn’t answer for a long moment. Then she shrugged.
“The usual unholy ones,” she said vaguely but, her gaze didn’t waver. It felt like she was talking about you, about the way you were looking at her now, about the heat still lingering in your cheeks.
“We should see your dorm assignment,” you said weakly, needing to break the intensity.
“Sure,” Lara said, straightening up.
You led her to the residence office, got her key. Room 214 in St. Agnes Hall, ironically named after a virgin martyr.
St. Agnes Hall was old, stone walled, smelling of mildew and floral disinfectant. You walked up to the second floor. The hallway was quiet, most girls were still in classes.
You stopped at the room and Lara unlocked the door and pushed it open.
It was a standard single room, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a small window overlooking a narrow alley.
Lara walked in, tossed her blazer onto the bed, and turned to you. You were still standing awkwardly in the doorway.
“You can come in,” she said. “It’s not a chapel.”
You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. The room felt smaller with both of you in it.
Lara sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back against her hands. She looked at you standing there, rigid.
“You’re nervous,” she observed.
“I’m not,” you lied.
“You are.” She sighed, as if bored by your denial. “Look, I’ll make it simple, you can be my guide, show me where shit is and, fuck right off back to your polishing and praying. But if you stay…” She paused, her eyes traveling slowly down your body, then back up. “…you might see some things that’ll make you pray a lot harder.”
It was explicit, an invitation of corruption.
Your mouth was dry. The image of Sophia and Manon flashed again in your mind, but this time it was overpowered with Lara. Her hands, her mouth, her dark lace bra.
“Sister Irene expects me to help you integrate,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lara smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Good,” she said. “Then let’s integrate.”
She stood up from the bed and walked over to the wardrobe. She opened it, looked at the empty space, then turned back to you.
“First rule of integration,” she said. “Don’t report me for the shit I’m going to do.” She pulled a small, sleek black case from her bag and opened it. Inside was a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a few small, sealed bottles of what looked like liquor.
“Second rule,” she said, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between her lips without lighting it. “If you’re going to stand there watching me with that hungry little look on your face, you might as well admit what you want.”
You couldn’t move. The cigarette between her lips was another violation, another sin right there in the virgin martyr’s dorm room. The “hungry little look” what did that mean? Was your face showing something you didn’t even understand?
Lara watched you struggle, “You’ve never even kissed anyone, have you?” she asked, the question so crude and direct it felt like a physical touch.
You shook your head slightly.
Lara took the unlit cigarette from her mouth and held it. “Thought so,” she said softly. She stepped closer to you. Not touching you, but close enough that you could feel the heat from her body, smell the smoke and spice on her skin.
“This place,” she said, her voice low now, almost a whisper meant just for you in the empty room, “is going to eat you alive if you stay the way you are. All that wanting… all that watching… with no way to let it out.” She tilted her head. “I can show you how to let it out.” She didn’t move to touch you.
What did you want?
The dorm room smelled of Giselle’s expensive perfume and NingNing’s strawberry scented vape smoke. You’d been pacing a trench in the thin carpet for ten minutes.
“NingNing, I can’t show her around,” you blurted out, stopping in front of her desk. She was painting her toenails a shocking, iridescent purple, a color that would get her detention if any nun saw it.
“Why not? She got two heads?” NingNing’s voice was light, amused.
“She’s… she’s corrupted,” you said, the word feeling dramatic.
NingNing finally glanced up, a smirk playing on her lips. She blew on her toenails. “Oh, come on. If you steer her in the right direction, she’ll be okay. That is your job, isn’t it? Be a good little influence?” Her tone wasn’t mean, just dismissive, like she was talking to a kid.
“But what if she…” you trailed off, the fear a hard knot in your stomach.
NingNing raised her eyebrow. “She what? Corrupts you back?”
You nodded, your face heating with shame at the admission.
NingNing snorted. “Please. You’d have to have something in you to corrupt first. You’re like a blank sheet of paper. She’d just get bored.”
The bathroom door opened then, steam coming out followed by Giselle. Her dark hair was wrapped in a towel, another smaller one cinched around her body. Droplets of water gleamed on her collarbones.
“What’s her problem?” Giselle asked NingNing, as if you weren’t there.
“The new transfer. Scared she’s gonna catch the gay or something,” NingNing said, capping her nail polish.
Giselle’s eyes landed on you. She walked over to her dresser, the towel riding high on her thighs. “Look,” she said. “What I suggest is you go sleep on it. Say three Hail Marys, pray for her soul or whatever, and get out. We need to sleep.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but Giselle was already crossing the room. She put a hand on your shoulder. Her grip was firm, her skin still warm from the shower. She guided you firmly to the door, opened it, and pushed you out into the hallway.
“Night,” she said, and the door clicked shut in your face. You stood there, hearing the faint sound of NingNing’s laughter from inside before it was muffled. The whole school was full of them. Full of girls who knew things, who did things.
You didn’t say three Hail Marys. You lay in your own narrow bed in your own silent room and stared at the ceiling.
The next morning, the chapel was its usual self, cold, quiet, smelling of wax and dust. You slipped into your usual pew in the middle, the wood smooth and familiar under your thighs. You were early. You needed the quiet, or you thought you did. You knelt, clasped your hands, and tried to find the prayerful silence. Instead, you got the memory of Lara’s smirk.
The side door creaked open. Footsteps, treaded on the stone floor. You didn’t want to look, but you did.
Lara. She was in full uniform today, though the blazer was unbuttoned and the shirt was still open at the throat. She walked down the side aisle, her eyes scanning the empty pews before landing on you.
A flicker of something passed over her face. She didn’t come to your pew, she went to the very front row, the one usually reserved for the chapel choir or visiting priests, and slid in. She knelt. You watched the line of her back, the fall of her dark hair. She clasped her hands together on the pew in front of her and bowed her head.
Your own prayers were forgotten. You just stared, was she actually praying? The posture was perfect, but everything else about her screamed performance. After a few minutes, you found yourself moving. You gathered your things and walked quietly up the aisle, slipping into the pew behind her. You could smell her now, that same scent of spice, like clove cigarettes.
“Let me guess?” you whispered, the sound too loud in the hollow space. “Sister Irene made you?”
Her shoulders tensed slightly, but she didn’t turn. Her voice, low and clear. “Said I can’t skip chapel. She’d send Karina or Wonyoung to check if I’m actually praying.” She unclasped her hands and sat back on the bench, half turning to look at you over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes were flat.
“Well, are you?” you asked, it was a stupid question the second it left your mouth.
A slow smile spread across her face. “Praying to get the fuck out of here? Yeah.”
You flinched. The curse word hit the sacred air like a thrown rock. It was so visceral, so deliberately offensive. “You can’t—” you started, a reflex.
“I just did,” she said, turning fully now to face you. She rested her arm along the back of the pew, her tattooed knuckles right there in the holy light filtering through the stained glass.
Automatically, your hand rose. You made the sign of the cross in the air in front of her, your thumb brushing your own forehead, chest, shoulders. “No cursing in the chapel,” you whispered, your voice tight.
Lara watched you do it, her expression unreadable. She looked fascinated, like you were a peculiar insect performing a ritual. Her eyes followed the path of your hand.
“Why?” she asked, her voice dropping to match your whisper. “You think God’s in here and he’s got sensitive ears? That he’s gonna smite me for saying ‘fuck’ but he’s just fine with all the other shit that happens in this place?” Her gaze flickered past you, towards the doors, towards the dorms.
“It’s about respect,” you hissed, feeling your cheeks burn again. You were always burning around her.
“Respect,” she repeated, tasting the word. She leaned forward, closing the space between you. Her scent intensified. “You want to know what I respect?” she murmured, her eyes locked on yours. “I respect honesty. That thing you’re not doing. You followed me up here. You’re watching me like I’m a puzzle you need to solve, you’re so fucking tense you might break. That’s honest. Your little cross in the air? That’s bullshit.”
You were frozen. Her words were stripping you bare, right there in God’s house. She saw everything.
“What do you want from me?” The question escaped, raw and desperate.
Lara’s smirk returned. She leaned back, breaking the intensity, but her eyes never left you. “I don’t want anything from you. But you…” She let the sentence hang. The chapel bell began to toll for the start of morning prayers.
“You should go back to your seat,” Lara said, turning to face the altar again, dismissing you. “Wouldn’t want anyone to see you talking to the corrupted girl. Might ruin your reputation.”
The dismissal stung more than her curses. You stood up, your legs shaky, and retreated to your pew in the middle. As the other girls filed in, filling the chapel with soft rustles and whispers, you kept your eyes straight ahead on the crucifix above the altar.
But your entire awareness was a laser focused on the back of Lara Raj’s head in the front row. She didn’t kneel again. She just sat, slouched slightly, a dark spot of defiance in the sea of navy blue and bowed heads. And you knew, that she was right. You were lying about everything and, she was the only one who could see it.
You walked alone in the hallway after chapel ended. You stared straight ahead at the lockers, the bulletin boards plastered with announcements for choir practice and charity drives, but you didn’t see them. Your vision was blurred, your mind filled with one frequency.
Lara Raj.
The name echoed in your brain, a mantra that wasn’t holy. Her face, the smirk that seemed to know the secrets of your spine. Her hands, the tattoos and the foreign script on her knuckles. The black lace you’d seen through her shirt, a detail you’d memorised like a verse from scripture. The way she’d leaned close in the pew.
Something was wrong with you. A sickness, a fever. Your skin felt too tight. Your uniform, the same one you’d worn for two years without a second thought, now felt like a lie. Your heart wasn’t beating right.
You were supposed to be thinking about your next class. You were supposed to be mentally reviewing the arguments on natural law. Instead, you were thinking about Lara’s lip when she said “fuck.” You were thinking about the way her eyebrow arched. You were thinking about the sheer, terrifying possibility that she might be right. That all your prayers, your polishing, your quiet obedience, was just a cover for something else.
A hand coming down on your shoulder.
It was Karina. Her grip was firm. She had a face like a porcelain doll, perfect and cool, but her eyes were always calculating.
“Y/N,” she said, her voice smooth. “Sister Irene wants to see you in her office. Now.”
Your stomach dropped. “Why?”
Karina’s smile was thin. “I’m just the messenger. But I’d guess it’s about your new charge. Lara Raj.” She released your shoulder. “She was in chapel. I saw her. And I saw you talking to her.”
There was no accusation in her tone, just a fact, but it felt like an accusation.
“I was just…” you began, but Karina cut you off.
“Sister Irene’s office. Now.” She turned and walked away.
You stood there for a moment, feeling exposed. Karina had seen. What had she seen? You talking? You making the sign of the cross over Lara? Your face, which was probably confused panic? You walked toward the administration wing, your earlier feverish thoughts now chilled by dread.
Sister Irene’s office was at the end of a quiet corridor, away from the student noise. You knocked.
“Enter.”
You opened the door. Sister Irene sat at the desk, her posture rigid, her hands folded on a ledger.
“Y/N,” she said. “Sit.”
You sat in the visitor’s chair, feeling like a defendant.
“You were assigned to assist Lara Raj in her orientation,” Sister Irene began, not looking at you, but at something on her ledger. “A simple task. One of compassion and guidance.”
You nodded.
“Karina informs me that Lara attended chapel this morning,” Sister Irene continued, her eyes now lifting to meet yours. “And that you were engaged in conversation with her during a time of silent preparation for prayer.”
“I… she was cursing,” you said, the words tumbling out. “I was reminding her of the rules.”
Sister Irene’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “And how did she respond to your reminder?”
“She… didn’t listen.”
“I see.” Sister Irene leaned forward slightly. “Y/N, Lara Raj is here under… special circumstances. Her mother is a devout woman, worried for her daughter’s spiritual welfare. Lara herself presents a significant challenge. She is resistant, confrontational, and openly disdainful of our community’s values.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “Your role is not to be her friend. Your role is to be an example. To demonstrate, through your own conduct, the peace and grace that comes from a life lived in accordance with God’s will. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sister.”
“Do you believe you are capable of being that example? Given your… interaction this morning?”
The question hung in the air. You thought of Lara’s voice, “That’s bullshit.” You thought of your own frantic, secret thoughts after you left her dorm room. You weren’t an example, you were a cracked mirror.
“I believe I can try,” you said, the weakest possible answer.
Sister Irene studied you for a long moment. “Try,” she repeated, as if the word itself was suspect. “Very well. You will continue to assist her. You will report to me each Friday on her progress, her attendance, her attitude, her adherence to the rules. This is a responsibility, Y/N. Not a privilege. Her soul may depend on the influence you bring.” She said it with absolute conviction. “Do not fail.”
“I won’t, Sister.”
She nodded, dismissing you. You stood up, your legs shaky again, and left the office. The door closed behind you with a solid, final sound.
You stood in the empty corridor, the weight of the assignment crushing you. Report on her progress. You were now officially a spy. The thought made you sick.
But another thought, underneath, it meant you had to be near her. You had a reason to seek her out, to watch her.
You walked back toward the classrooms. You turned down a different hallway, one that led to the older, less used part of the school. You needed to be alone.
You found an empty alcove near a fire exit, a small space with a window overlooking a neglected courtyard. You leaned against the cold wall, pressing your forehead to the glass.
Your mind circled back to Lara.
What did you want?
You wanted her to look at you again with that intense gaze. You wanted her to say something crude and true that would shatter the quiet inside you. You wanted to touch the ink on her knuckles. You wanted to see the black lace bra again, not through a shirt but without anything over it. The thought was so blasphemous, that a hot wave of shame washed over you.
You were corrupted. She hadn’t even done anything to you, and you were corrupted. Just by existing near her, by speaking to her.
A sound made you turn.
It was the click of a lighter, then the soft, distinct inhalation of someone smoking.
You knew who it was before you saw her.
Lara stood in the shadowy corner of the courtyard below your window, partially hidden by a overgrown rhododendron bush. She had her back against the stone wall of the building. She wasn’t looking up, she was just staring out at the dead grass and broken benches.
She’d found a place to hide, to break the rules and, you’d found her.
You watched her. You imagined Karina or Wonyoung finding her here. They’d report her immediately, with cold efficiency. You were supposed to report her. Sister Irene’s orders were clear.
But you didn’t move.
Lara lifted her head then, as if sensing something. Her eyes scanned the windows above, and they landed on you. There was no surprise in her face, She saw you there, watching her smoke in secret. She didn’t hide the cigarette, she just looked back at you, her gaze steady through the grimy window pane.
Then, slowly, she lifted her hand, the one with the angel tattoo, and beckoned you with a single curl of her finger.
Your heart hammered against your ribs. You could turn away, go to class, and later report her for smoking on campus. You could fulfill your duty to Sister Irene.
Or you could go down.
You looked at Lara’s face, she was waiting. She knew exactly what you were thinking, what you were feeling, she’d known since she first saw you in the office.
Without another thought, you moved. You pushed open the fire exit door and stepped out into the cool, damp air of the courtyard. The door closed behind you with a heavy thud.
Lara watched you approach. She took another drag from her cigarette and waited.
You stopped a few feet from her.
“Sister Irene wants me to report on you,” you said bluntly. The words came out flat.
Lara’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Report what?”
“Your attendance. Your attitude. Your adherence to the rules.” You gestured weakly at the cigarette in her hand.
Lara laughed. “So you’re my probation officer now. Cool.” She flicked some ash onto the ground. “And you came down here to get your first report? ‘Subject was found smoking in a deserted courtyard. Subject did not repent.’”
“No,” you said, your voice quiet.
“No?” Lara prompted, her eyes sharpening.
“I came down here because you gestured for me to come.”
Lara considered this. She took a final drag from the cigarette and then dropped it, stomping it out with the heel of her shoe. “I gestured because I knew you were watching. You’re always watching.” She stepped closer to you. “So what’s your report going to say, Y/N?”
You looked at her.
“It’s going to say I couldn’t find you after chapel,” you said. The lie felt both dangerous and exhilarating.
Lara’s smirk returned, wider this time. “A lie. In your first report. That’s a bad start for a good girl.”
“I’m not a good girl,” you said, and it was the most honest thing you’d said all day.
Lara’s expression changed. The smirk softened into something more genuine, more curious. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.” She reached out then, not to touch you, but to pluck at the lapel of your blazer.
“What do you want me to do?” you asked, the question barely a whisper.
Lara let go of your lapel. She looked around the deserted courtyard, then back at you. “For now? Nothing. Just keep lying for me.” She paused. “It gets easier after the first time.”
She turned and walked away from you, heading toward a side path that led back toward the main buildings. She left you standing there in the cold courtyard, surrounded by the smell of crushed cigarette and damp leaves.
The laundry room smelled of industrial bleach, and cheap lavender detergent. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with a flickering hum.
You pushed through the heavy double doors, “Sophia?” Your voice sounded small, “Sister Irene wanted to know if the wash for the altar servers is done yet. She needs the surplices for tomorrow’s—”
You saw them.
They were between two giant, shuddering dryers. Sophia was pressed back against the chipped yellow paint of the wall, her head tilted back, mouth open in a silent gasp. Her uniform skirt was hitched up around her hips. Manon stood pressed against her, one hand tangled in Sophia’s perfectly pinned dark hair, the other was buried, knuckle deep, under the hem of that skirt. You could see the tense line of Manon’s forearm. Sophia’s knees were trembling.
A string of saliva glistened between their mouths before Manon sealed them together again with a wet, open mouthed kiss that was all tongue and teeth. Sophia moaned. Manon’s fingers moved and Sophia’s whole body jerked, her hips stuttering forward against Manon’s hand.
Your own body reacted before your brain could catch up. A hot, immediate clamp of muscle low in your gut, a pulse of sensation so sharp it was almost painful. You squeezed your thighs together tightly, the rough wool of your own skirt scratching your skin. Your breath hitched, stuck in your throat. You weren’t supposed to be seeing this. You were supposed to be asking about fucking surplices.
You couldn’t move. Your eyes were glued to that hidden, working hand, to the desperate, hungry way Sophia moved against it. This was what Lara had talked about. This was the “other shit” that happened here. It was wet and probably smelled like sex and laundry soap.
Manon’s half lidded eyes, drifted from Sophia’s face and landed right on you. She didn’t startle. She didn’t stop. Her fingers kept moving, and Sophia whimpered, oblivious. Manon just held your gaze over Sophia’s shoulder, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across her kiss swollen lips.
Your cunt throbbed. You were supposed to say something but, you just stood there, frozen in the doorway.
You stumbled back, your shoulder hitting the heavy laundry room door with a dull thud that was lost in the industrial roar. The image burned behind your eyelids like a negative. You turned and pushed through the doors.
You clumsily staggered. Your vision was blurred. You bounced off the rough cinderblock wall, the impact jolting your shoulder. Your shoe caught on a raised piece of linoleum and you pitched forward, hands shooting out to brace against a metal janitor’s cart. You needed to get out. You needed to be anywhere but this damp, subterranean throat of a hallway. You turned a corner, aiming for the stairwell door at the far end.
You didn’t see her.
You walked right into a solid, warm body.
The impact wasn’t hard. Your forehead knocked against a collarbone. You inhaled sharply, and the scent that hit you was so familiar, so utterly her, that it short circuited the last of your coordination.
Hands came up, gripping your upper arms to steady you.
“Whoa. The fuck are you doing down here?”
You looked up. Of course it was Lara. She stood there, her head was tilted, those sharp, hazel brown eyes scanning your face with unnerving speed.
She took you in, your wide, startled eyes, your flushed cheeks, your parted lips as you tried to catch your breath. Her gaze dropped for a split second to where your hands had instinctively come up to her waist during the stumble, then back to your face.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, “Or… something else.” Her thumbs moved slightly where they gripped your arms.
You tried to step back, but her grip tightened, just for a second, holding you in place. “I… I was just… looking for Sophia,” you stammered.
“In the basement?” Lara’s eyebrow arched. Her eyes flicked past you, down the hallway toward the laundry room door. A slow, knowing smile touched her lips. “Find her?”
You swallowed, your throat dry. You shook your head, a tiny, jerky movement.
Lara’s smile widened. She released one of your arms, but only to bring her hand up. She didn’t touch your face. Instead, she reached out and brushed a fingertip across the lapel of your blazer. “You’re shaking,” she observed, her voice dropping to a murmur that seemed to vibrate in the space between you. “And you’re all… keyed up. What did you see in there, good girl?”
The crude, question. A small, choked sound escaped your lips.
Lara’s eyes darkened. The smirk faded. She leaned in closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper against your ear. You could feel her breath, warm on your skin. “Was it the Sophia and her Swiss pet? Were they fucking in the laundry room? Is that it?”
You flinched.
“Did you watch?” she breathed, the question a hot brand. “Did you stand there and get wet watching them?”
“Stop it,” you gasped, but it had no force. It was a plea, not a command.
“Why?” Lara pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes again. Her gaze was relentless. “You liked it. I can tell. Your heart’s going crazy, you’re breathing like you just ran a race.” Her hand, the one still on your arm, slid down to your wrist, her fingers circling it. Her thumb pressed against your frantic pulse. “See? You’re a terrible liar.”
You were trapped by the truth, by the aching, throbbing need between your legs that her words were stoking into a blaze.
“They… they were…” you tried, but couldn’t finish.
“Yeah,” Lara finished for you, her voice thick with a kind of grim amusement. “They were. And you wanted to be her.”
You shook your head again, helplessly.
Lara studied you for another long moment, the hum of the lights the only sound. Then she sighed, a short, impatient exhale. She released your wrist and took a half step back. “You’re a mess,” she stated. “You’re gonna walk upstairs looking like this, and someone like Karina is gonna take one look at you and know exactly where you’ve been and what’s in your head.”
The thought was terrifying.
“Come on,” she said, turning and nodding down the hallway. “There’s a storage closet down here. Old choir robes. No one ever goes in there. You can… pull yourself together. Or not.” She glanced back at you. “Your choice. Stand here and get caught, or follow me.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She just started walking, her footsteps echoing softly on the linoleum. She knew you’d follow. You always did.
You followed her.
Your legs felt like wood, your movements stiff. The space where her hands had gripped your arms still tingled. She walked, not looking back, knowing you were there. The sound of your own footsteps was too loud.
Lara stopped at a nondescript door, its paint peeling to reveal grey metal beneath. A sign, handwritten on yellowed cardstock and taped crookedly, read, Choir Robes - Seasonal. Do Not Remove. She tried the handle. It was unlocked, with a soft click, she pushed it open and slipped inside.
You hesitated. It smelled of old fabric, cedar mothballs, and dust so thick it was tangible.
A hand shot out of the darkness, fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulled you. You stumbled forward into the void, and the door swung shut behind you with a muffled thud.
The darkness was complete. Your other senses sharpened to a painful degree. You could hear Lara’s breathing, somewhere close in front of you. You could smell her. You could feel the heat coming off her body.
“Relax, your eyes’ll adjust.”
Slowly, shapes began to emerge from the gloom. Tall, hulking racks crammed with hanging garments. Lara was leaning against a rack, arms crossed, watching you.
“So,” she said. “Laundry room. Give me the details.”
You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Bullshit,” she said, simple and blunt. “You’re bursting with it. It’s all over you. You’re gonna explode if you don’t let it out. We’re not leaving, you’re not about to have a fucking panic attack in the hallway.”
The vulgarity in her tone, stripped away the last pretence.
“They were… against the wall. Manon had her hand… inside her. Under her skirt. Sophia was… she was…” You couldn’t find the words. “She was making noises.”
“She was coming,” Lara said, her voice utterly matter of fact. “Or getting close. Was she wet?”
The question was so crude, so specific, it stole your breath. “I… I don’t know.”
“You could see, though, couldn’t you? The way Manon’s hand was moving? Fast? Hard?” Lara’s voice was closer now. She’d taken a step toward you.
You nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see. “Yes,” you whispered.
“And you liked it.”
It wasn’t a question this time.
A hot tear, escaped and traced a path down your cheek. “It’s wrong,” you choked out.
Lara let out a humourless laugh. “Who gives a fuck? Your body doesn’t think it’s wrong. Your body knows exactly what it wants. It’s your brain that’s all fucked up from this place.” She was right in front of you now. You could see the faint gleam of her eyes in the near dark. “You squeezed your legs together, didn’t you? When you saw it. Tried to make the feeling stop.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.
“Did it work?”
“No.”
“Of course it didn’t.” Her hand came up. You flinched, expecting a touch, but she just gestured vaguely in the dark. “That ache? That’s want. Plain and simple. You want to feel what she was feeling. You want someone’s hand on you, in you. You want to make those noises.”
You were trembling, a shake you couldn’t control. The ache between your legs was a persistent, impossible to ignore.
“It’s a sin,” you breathed.
“Sin,” Lara repeated. “They’ve got you so twisted up. Listen to me.” Her voice dropped, forcing you to lean in to hear. “There is nothing in that Bible, in any of Sister Irene’s lectures, that can make what you’re feeling right now go away. You can pray until your knees bleed. You can polish every fucking pew in that chapel. It’ll still be there.”
You were crying silently now, the tears hot and shameful. She was articulating the terrifying truth you’d felt for months, years maybe.
“What do I do?” The question was a plea.
For a long moment, Lara was silent. You could hear the soft rustle of her clothes as she shifted. Then her hand came up again, and this time it did touch you. Her fingertips, cool and dry, brushed the wet track of a tear from your cheek.
“You have a choice,” she said, her fingers lingering for a second before dropping away. “You can keep lying. Go back upstairs, wash your face, and spend the night on your knees begging a god who doesn’t give a shit about your cunt to make you pure. Or.” She paused. The word hung in the dusty dark, heavy with implication. “You can admit it, accept what you are, and what you want.”
“And then what?” you whispered.
“Then the game changes. Then you’re not their good little girl anymore. You’re just… a girl. With needs. And there are ways to meet them. Even in this shit hole.”
“I’m scared,” you admitted, the truest thing you’d said all day.
“I know,” Lara said, and for the first time, there was no mockery in her voice. “It’s scary as hell. But being this?” She gestured at you, at your trembling form in the dark. “This is a slow death. You can feel it, this place is eating you from the inside out.”
You could. You’d felt it for years. A numbness, until she arrived, and suddenly all the hollow places were filled with a terrifying awareness.
“I don’t know how,” you said.
Lara moved then past you, her shoulder brushing yours. She felt along the wall until her fingers found a switch. A single, bare bulb hanging from a wire in the centre of the closet.
The harsh light was a shock. You blinked, your eyes watering. Lara looked utterly out of place.
She leaned back against a rack of robes.
“You don’t have to know how,” she said. “You just have to say yes. Say you’re done lying. To them. To yourself.” She crossed her arms. “That’s the only thing I need to hear.”
You looked at her, the nose ring, the tattoos, the defiant set of her jaw.
You took a deep, shuddering breath that tasted of dust and mothballs and possibility.
“Yes,” you said.
Lara didn’t smile, she didn’t look happy. She just nodded, once. “Okay,” she said, pushing off from the robe rack. “Then we start now.” She walked toward the door, then stopped and looked back at you. “First lesson. Stop hiding the evidence.”
She reached out and, with a startling intimacy, used the pad of her thumb to wipe away the last of the tear tracks from your cheeks. “Your face is a mess. Go to the bathroom. Splash water on it. Then meet me after dinner. Behind the old greenhouse.”
“What for?” you asked, your voice still unsteady.
“For lesson two.” She turned the handle and pulled the door open, letting in a slash of the hallway’s greenish light. “And Y/N?” she said, pausing in the doorway. “Don’t wear those granny panties. Wear something you wouldn’t want Sister Irene to see.”
She was gone then, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving you alone in the buzzing, dusty silence under the single bare bulb.
"You want a thong?" Ningning asked you, you nodded, "Why?" she questioned, Giselle looked at Ningning like the question was obvious, because it was,
"Look she clearly wants a thong because she's gonna get her cherry popped, just give her one so we can get ready for dinner," Giselle said, "Cherry popped?" you said quietly to yourself.
The words felt foreign and crude in your mind. The idea was so absurd, so far from the reality of your life, that it almost made you laugh.
Ningning rifled through her top drawer, past the lacy things she wore for her own mysterious reasons, and pulled out a small, black triangle of fabric with a string.
She tossed it onto the bed. It looked like a spider's web. "Here. The least slutty thing I own." She went back to drawing, her attention already gone.
Giselle watched you, her arms crossed. "What? You thought you were gonna meet her in your granny panties? The ones that come up to your navel? She'll take one look and run the other way." She sighed, a dramatic sound. "Jesus, Y/N. It's like dealing with a child."
You picked up the thong. The material was slick, almost cold in your hand. It felt impossibly small. You couldn't imagine wearing it. The string would sit right... there.
"Go on," Giselle said, nudging you toward the small bathroom attached to your dorm room. "Put it on. See how it feels. You're supposed to be meeting her soon, right?"
You nodded, clutching the tiny garment, and retreated into the bathroom. You locked the door behind you. You looked at yourself in the mirror over the sink. Your face was still a little pale, your eyes wide and dark. You looked like a startled fawn. A fawn about to go meet a wolf.
You took off your cotton underwear, the kind your mother bought for you in bulk at the beginning of each semester.
You stepped into the thong. It settled into place, a thin, unfamiliar pressure against your skin. It was... strange.
You felt exposed, even fully clothed. You pulled your skirt back on. When you looked in the mirror again, nothing looked different. But everything was.
You came out of the bathroom. Ningning and Giselle were already slipping on their shoes. "Well?" Giselle asked, her eyes scanning you critically. "Does it feel like your soul is damned yet?"
You just shook your head, your throat too tight to speak.
"Good," she said. "It shouldn't. It's just underwear. Now go. Don't keep your new devil waiting." She pushed you gently toward the door.
The door clicked shut behind you, and you were alone in the quiet hallway. The dining hall was still noisy with the last of the dinner rush, but you were heading in the opposite direction. The air grew cooler as you walked away from the main buildings.
The old greenhouse was exactly as Lara had described, a derelict skeleton of glass and rusted iron frame, half swallowed by overgrown ivy.
Most of the panes were cracked or missing entirely, and the ones that remained were coated in grime.
You saw her before she saw you. She was leaning against the crumbling brick wall at the back of the structure, smoking a cigarette.
She wore her uniform, but the blazer was nowhere in sight, and her shirt was unbuttoned even lower than before, revealing the sharp lines of her collarbones and the delicate shadow between her breasts.
You stopped a few feet away, your hands clasped nervously in front of you.
"You came," she said. It wasn't a question. She took a final drag from her cigarette and dropped it, grinding it out with the toe of her shoe. "I was half expecting you to be on your knees in the chapel right now, begging for forgiveness for even thinking about it."
"I said I would come," you replied, your voice quiet.
Lara pushed off the wall and walked toward you. "So you did." She stopped in front of you, closer than she had in the closet.
Her eyes, those hazel brown eyes, scanned your face, then dropped, very slowly, down your body and back up again. The look was so deliberate, so possessive, that you felt a blush creeping up your neck.
"Did you wear them?" she asked, her voice low.
You nodded, unable to meet her gaze.
"Let me see."
"What?" Your head snapped up. "Here?"
"No, dumbass. In the middle of the fucking quad. Yes, here." There was a smirk playing on her lips. "Lift your skirt."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. The request was obscene. It was everything you'd been taught was wrong, a violation not just of the rules, but of decency itself.
With trembling fingers, you reached for the hem of your skirt. The wool felt heavy. You took a shaky breath and slowly lifted it, just a few inches, exposing your thighs.
"Higher," Lara commanded.
You obeyed, pulling the fabric up until it was bunched around your hips. You stood there, exposed in the dying light, the cool evening air on your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for her to say something, to laugh, to do anything.
You felt her fingers against your hip. They traced the line of the thong's string. You flinched at the touch, a jolt of electricity shooting through you.
"Open your eyes," she said.
You did. She was kneeling in front of you, her face level with your hips. She wasn't looking at your face. She was looking at the scrap of black fabric. Her expression was one of intense curiosity.
"There," she said, her fingers still tracing the string, following it down, down, until they brushed against the fabric covering you. You gasped, a sharp, helpless sound. "That's not so bad, is it? Being seen?"
You couldn't answer. Your throat was thick with a mixture of fear and a feeling so intense it was almost pain.
"It's just a body," she said, looking up at you then, her eyes dark in the twilight. "It's just skin and nerves and wanting. There's no god here. No sin. Just this." Her fingers pressed, a firm, deliberate pressure against your core, through the thin fabric.
A whimper escaped your lips. Your hips jerked forward, a movement you couldn't control, chasing the pressure.
Lara smiled, a real, genuine smile this time, and it was the most terrifying thing you'd ever seen. "See?" she whispered, her fingers still working in a slow, maddening circle. "Your body knows what it wants. It's been waiting."
She stood up, pulling her hand away. The sudden loss of contact left you feeling empty, aching.
"Pull your skirt down," she said.
You fumbled with the fabric, your hands shaking so badly you could barely manage it.
"Lesson two," she said, her voice back to its usual flat, unimpressed tone. "Don't be a fucking coward. Don't close your eyes. Don't pretend it's not happening. When someone touches you, you watch them. You feel it. You own it. Understand?"
You nodded, your eyes wide.
"Good." She glanced up at the sky. "It's getting dark. Curfew's soon. We should go back."
You started to walk, but she caught your arm.
"One more thing," she said, pulling you back toward her. She leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear. "Next time," she breathed, "I'm gonna make you make those noises."
The dorm room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of the cotton nightgown as you pulled it over your head. It was a sensible garment, long-sleeved and plain, the kind you'd always worn. Tonight, it felt like a lie.
The fabric was soft, but it felt rough against your skin, which was still humming, still awake. You sat on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under your weight. Giselle and Ningning were already in their beds, their breathing soft and even in the dark. You were alone with your thoughts.
And your thoughts were all Lara.
Her words echoed in the silence of your mind, a litany of blasphemy and truth. "Your body knows what it's waiting for." "Next time, I'm gonna make you make those noises." The memory of her fingers, the firm, deliberate pressure through the thin fabric of the thong, sent a fresh jolt of heat through you. You squeezed your thighs together, but the ache was still there, a low, persistent thrum.
When was next time?
The next day, the chapel was cold. It was always cold, but today it felt like the stone was leaching the heat right out of your bones. You went straight to the front, to the first pew, and knelt, the hard wood pressing into your kneecaps, and stared up at the crucifix. Jesus looked down, his face a mask of suffering that you suddenly found utterly meaningless. You weren't praying for forgiveness. You were just… looking. And the tears came anyway.
The side door creaked open, the sound slicing through the thick silence. You didn't turn. You knew that sound, the soft, wet smacking that followed it.
You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand and pushed yourself up, your knees cracking. You turned. Manon had Sophia pressed against the stone wall right beside the confessional, her hand up Sophia's skirt. Sophia's head was thrown back, her mouth open, her eyes squeezed shut. They hadn't even bothered to find a new hiding spot.
"You guys should be more careful where you do that," you said quietly.
They broke apart. Sophia's eyes flew open, wide with a panic that quickly morphed into annoyance. Manon just looked bored, slowly pulling her hand out from under the navy wool and wiping her fingers on her own skirt.
"What are you doing here?" Manon snapped, her voice sharp in the sacred space.
You looked at Sophia, at her flushed face and swollen lips. "Lara," you said. "Yesterday. She… she made me wear these lacy panties. black ones, and she had me lift my skirt. Behind the greenhouse."
Sophia’s expression shifted. The annoyance faded, replaced by curiosity. She tilted her head, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. "You liked it?" she asked. "And don't fucking lie. Manon told me you stood there and watched us in the laundry room for a solid minute before you ran away like a scared little fawn.”
"I…" you started, the old shame trying to creep back in. "But what about Sister Irene?"
Sophia actually laughed. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her," she smirked one that reminded you of Lara. "Just ask Ningning and Giselle. They've been getting away with shit for years. It's not about being good. It's about not getting caught."
"But-" Manon cut you off, her hand grabbing your face, "No buts, nothing can stop the way you feel, that's how life is," she said, her fingers pressing into your cheeks. "Live a lie or go to Lara, you choose," and she pulled Sophia's hand into the closet, leaving you alone.
The confessional door clicked shut behind them, leaving you standing there in the dim light filtering through the stained glass windows. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, so hard you could feel it in your throat.
You thought about Lara. The way her eyes had looked when she made you lift your skirt behind the greenhouse.
The wooden floorboards creaked as you shifted your weight.
From behind the confessional door, you could hear them. Soft sounds. Whispers. A muffled gasp. Sophia's voice, saying something you couldn't quite make out, followed by Manon's low laugh.
You turned on your heel and walked out. The cool afternoon air hit your face, making you realize how hot your skin had gotten.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
The main building was quiet, most girls still in their afternoon classes. Your footsteps echoed on the linoleum floors as you made your way down the east wing. Lara's room was at the end of the hall, the one with the frosted glass window that always looked like it was covered in condensation. You stood in front of her door for a long time, your hand raised to knock but not quite making contact.
Your knuckles finally made contact with the wood. The sound was loud in the empty hallway. You almost turned and ran, but then you heard footsteps from inside. The lock clicked. The door swung open.
Lara stood there, leaning against the doorframe. She wasn't wearing her school uniform, just a simple white t-shirt, black shorts and black glasses. Her hair was messy, and she had a book in her hand. She looked you up and down, her eyes lingering on your flushed face and the way you were twisting the hem of your skirt in your hands.
"Well?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. "Are you just going to stand there looking like a lost puppy, or are you coming in?"
You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. "I..." you started, but the words wouldn't come out.
Lara smirked. "Let me guess. You've been a bad girl again?"
You could only nod, your eyes fixed on the floor.
"Good," she said, stepping aside to let you into her room. "I was getting bored."
"Lara.. can we talk first?" you asked her. She stared at you for a bit, her head tilted. "Sure," she finally said, her voice a low purr.
You perched on the very edge of her bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. The room smelled like her perfume. "I don’t know if i can do this, it’s a sin, I..." you cut yourself off, the words catching in your throat.
"It’s not a sin if you keep your cross on," Lara said, her finger pointing to the silver chain around your neck.
"Really?" you asked, a flicker of desperate hope in your voice.
She nodded, smiling at you sweetly. It was fake, but you didn't notice it, too focused on her eyes, the way they seemed to see right through you. She moved closer, kneeling on the floor in front of you. Her hands came to rest on your knees, her thumbs stroking the fabric of your uniform.
"See? God can't see what he doesn't want to see," she whispered, her breath warm against your leg. "And right now, he's looking the other way. He understands."
Her hands started to slide up your thighs, slowly, pushing your skirt up inch by inch. You watched, frozen, as the navy wool bunched up around her wrists. The lacy light pink panties you were wearing were completely exposed now.
"These are pretty," she said, her finger tracing the edge of the lace. "Did Ningning pick them out for you?"
You could only shake your head, your mouth too dry to speak.
"Ah," she said, her smile widening. "So you picked them out yourself? Wearing them just for me?"
Her other hand came up to your face, her fingers tilting your chin up. "Look at me," she commanded, and you did. "There's nothing wrong with wanting something. With wanting someone. That's not a sin. That's just being human."
Her thumb brushed against your lower lip, and you felt a shiver run through you. "But Sister Irene says..."
"Sister Irene says a lot of things," Lara interrupted, her voice dropping lower. "But she's not here right now, is she? It's just you and me, and God's not watching."
Her hand moved from your thigh to the waistband of your panties, her fingers hooking under the elastic. "Just relax," she whispered, her lips so close to yours now that you could feel her breath. "Let me show you how good it can feel to be a little bit bad."
You closed your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. As Lara's lips finally met yours, soft and demanding, you knew you weren't going anywhere.
Lara's lips moved against yours, soft at first, then harder, more demanding. It wasn't like any kiss you'd ever imagined. Her was hungry, like she was trying to devour you. Her tongue pushed into your mouth, and you froze, not knowing what to do. Lara’s hand tightened on your chin, holding you in place.
"Relax," she murmured against your lips, pulling back just enough to speak. "Open your mouth."
You did, and her tongue slid in again. Her other hand was still hooked in your panties, and you could feel the heat from her fingers burning through the lace. Your hands were clenched into fists in your lap, your knuckles white.
She pulled away from the kiss, her breathing a little uneven. She looked at you, her eyes dark and intense. "You're still thinking too much," she said, her voice low. "Stop thinking."
She stood up, pulling you with her. Her hands were on your waist, turning you around so your back was to her. "Unbutton your shirt," she commanded, her lips right next to your ear.
Your fingers shook as you fumbled with the small buttons of your uniform blouse. You could feel her eyes on you, watching your every move. You managed to get the first button undone, then the second. Her hands came around your waist, sliding up under your shirt to rest on your stomach. Her skin was warm against yours.
"Keep going," she whispered, her thumbs stroking circles on your stomach.
You undid the rest of the buttons, your hands trembling so badly you could barely grip them. Your shirt fell open, exposing the plain pink bra you wore underneath.
Lara's hands moved up, cupping your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. You gasped, your back arching involuntarily. She chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "Sensitive, aren't we?"
She unhooked your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away. Her hands were on your bare skin now, her palms warm and firm. She squeezed gently, her thumbs brushing against your nipples. You bit your lip to keep from crying out.
"None of that," she said, her hand coming up to tilt your head back. "I want to hear you."
Her mouth was on your neck then, her teeth scraping against your skin. You couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. It sounded loud in the quiet room, wanton and unfamiliar. It was a sound you'd never made before, a sound you didn't know you were capable of making.
"Good girl," she murmured, her hands moving down to your hips. She hooked her fingers in your skirt, pushing it down until it pooled around your ankles. You were standing there in just your panties and your unbuttoned shirt, completely exposed.
She turned you back around to face her, her eyes roaming over your body. "Much better," she said, a satisfied smile on her face. "Now lie down on the bed."
You did as she said, lying back on the rumpled sheets. The fabric was cool against your bare skin. She followed you down, straddling your hips, her knees on either side of you. She leaned down, her hair falling around your face.
"You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" she asked, her voice a low whisper.
You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.
"Good," she said, her lips brushing against yours.
She lowered her head, her hair tickling your face as she kissed you again. This time it was slower, deeper. Her tongue explored your mouth, and you tentatively met it with your own. She tasted like cigarettes and something sweet, like mint. One of her hands came up to tangle in your hair, her fingers tightening just enough to make you gasp.
She pulled away from your mouth, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck. Her teeth scraped against your pulse point, and you shivered, your hands clutching at her shoulders. "You like that?" she murmured against your skin.
You could only nod, your throat too tight to form words.
She chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "Good. Because I'm just getting started."
Her mouth moved lower, down to your chest. She cupped your breasts in her hands, her thumbs brushing against your nipples. They hardened instantly, pebbling under her touch. She leaned down, taking one into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, and you arched your back, a choked moan escaping your lips.
"Fuck," you breathed, your hands flying to her hair, holding her against you.
She sucked harder, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. It was a sharp, exquisite pain that shot straight to your core. You could feel yourself getting wetter, the lace of your panties damp against your skin. She moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention, her hand still kneading the first one.
"Please," you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for.
She lifted her head, her eyes dark and intense. "Please what?" she asked, her voice a low purr. "Tell me what you want."
You shook your head, your face burning with shame. You couldn't say the words. It was too dirty, too wrong.
She smirked, her hand sliding down your stomach, her fingers tracing the waistband of your panties. "Don't worry," she said, her voice softening slightly. "I'll show you."
She hooked her fingers in the lace, pulling your panties down and off. You were completely exposed now, and you fought the urge to cover yourself. She spread your legs, her eyes fixed on your most intimate place. You felt a blush creep up your neck, but you didn't look away. Lesson two.
"Beautiful," she whispered, her finger tracing your slit. You were so wet, and she coated her fingers in your arousal, bringing them up to your mouth. "Taste," she commanded.
You opened your mouth, sucking her fingers clean. It was dirty and humiliating and it made your stomach clench with need.
She lowered herself between your legs, her breath warm against your core. "I'm going to make you feel so good," she promised, her eyes locking with yours. "I'm going to make you forget all about sin and God and everything else."
And then her mouth was on you. Her tongue flicked against your clit, and you cried out, your hips bucking off the bed. She held you down, her hands on your thighs, her tongue working magic. She licked and sucked, exploring every inch of you. It was overwhelming, a barrage of sensation that you couldn't process. All you could do was feel.
She slid a finger inside you, then another, curling them just right. "Oh god," you moaned, your head thrown back. "Oh god, oh god, oh god."
"There's no god here," she said, her voice muffled against you. "Just me."
She started to pump her fingers, her tongue still working your clit. The pressure was building, a tight coil in your stomach. You could feel yourself getting closer, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Don't stop," you begged, your hands fisting in the sheets. "Please, don't stop."
She didn't. She increased her pace, her fingers hitting that spot inside you over and over again. The coil snapped, and you came, hard. Your vision went white, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You screamed her name, your voice hoarse and broken.
She didn't stop. She kept licking, her fingers still moving inside you. It was too much, the pleasure bordering on pain. You tried to push her away, but she was stronger than she looked. "No, no, no," you sobbed, tears streaming down your face. "I can't, I can't..."
"You can," she said, her voice firm. "And you will."
She sucked your clit into her mouth, her tongue flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves. The pressure built again, faster this time, more intense. You were thrashing on the bed, your body no longer your own. You felt a strange sensation, a pressure building deep inside you.
"Let go," she commanded, her fingers pressing against that spot again.
And you did. You came again, harder this time, a gush of fluid soaking her hand and the sheets beneath you. You had never felt anything like it, a pleasure so intense it was almost agony. You collapsed against the bed, your body limp and trembling.
She crawled up your body, her mouth covered in your arousal. She kissed you, and you could taste yourself on her lips. "See?" she whispered, her voice smug. "I told you I had big plans for you."
You were still shaking, your mind a blank haze of pleasure. You looked at her, at her swollen lips and her dark, satisfied eyes. "I want to..." you started, your voice barely a whisper.
"What?" she asked, her hand stroking your hair. "What do you want?"
You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I want to ride your face."
Her eyes widened, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face. "Well, well," she said, her voice a low purr. "Look who's learning."
She lay back on the bed, her arms folded behind her head. "Come on then," she said, her eyes challenging you. "Show me what you've got."
You straddled her face, your knees on either side of her head. It was a strange, vulnerable position, but the look in her eyes gave you confidence. You lowered yourself onto her mouth, her tongue immediately finding your clit.
You rocked your hips, finding a rhythm. Her hands came up to grip your ass, guiding your movements. You looked down at her, at the way her eyes were closed, the way her brow was furrowed in concentration. It was the most erotic thing you had ever seen.
You leaned forward, your hands on the headboard to steady yourself. The new angle allowed her to go deeper, her tongue fucking you as her nose rubbed against your clit. You could feel another orgasm building, a slow, steady burn this time.
"Faster," she commanded, her voice muffled against you.
You obeyed, riding her face harder, faster. The pressure was mounting, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You were so close, so fucking close.
"Come for me," she demanded, her fingers digging into your ass. "Come all over my face."
And you did. You came with a cry, your body shaking as the pleasure washed over you. You collapsed forward, your forehead resting against the cool wood of the headboard.
She gently pushed you off, rolling you onto your back. She crawled up your body, her mouth finding yours again. "My turn," she whispered against your lips.
She straddled your thigh, her own wetness coating your skin. She started to rock her hips, her clit rubbing against your leg. You could feel her getting more and more aroused, her movements becoming more frantic.
You reached up, cupping her breasts in your hands. They were perfect, full and round. You leaned up, taking one into your mouth. You sucked on her nipple, your tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.
"Fuck," she moaned, her head thrown back. "Yes, just like that."
You moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention. Her hips bucked against your thigh, her movements becoming more erratic. You could feel her getting closer, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
You bit down gently on her nipple, and she cried out, her body convulsing as she came. She collapsed against you, her head resting on your chest. You held her, your hand stroking her hair, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath.
You lay there for a long time, the only sound your combined breathing. You felt a strange sense of peace, a feeling of rightness that you had never experienced before. This was where you were meant to be. This was who you were meant to be.
The silence that followed was different from the silence before. It wasn't empty or waiting. It was full. Full of the sound of your breathing, of the weight of her body on yours, of the lingering scent of sex and her sharp perfume. You were sticky with sweat and other things, the sheets tangled around your legs, but you didn't care. You felt numbn , like all your bones had dissolved and left you a pliant, contented creature.
Lara shifted, her head lifting from your chest. For a moment, you felt a flicker of panic, the old fear creeping back in. Was this it? Was she done with you now? But she just rolled onto her side, facing you, her arm draped possessively over your stomach. Her eyes, which had been so predatory and intense just moments before, were soft now, almost sleepy.
"You're a mess," she said, but her voice was gentle, a low murmur. She reached out, her thumb brushing away a tear track you hadn't even realized was still there on your cheek. "A beautiful, crying mess."
You couldn't speak. You just looked at her, your heart doing a strange, painful flip in your chest. You had never seen this side of her, the soft afterglow. You had only seen the sharp edges, the teasing, the demanding teacher. This was new. This was dangerous.
She sighed, a soft, contented sound. "Stay here," she said, and then she was getting up. You watched her, your eyes tracing the lines of her body as she moved across the room. She grabbed a t-shirt from her dresser and used it to wipe between her legs, then came back to the bed. She gently cleaned you up too, her touch surprisingly careful. It was an intimate gesture, more intimate in some ways than what had just happened. It was care.
She tossed the shirt onto the floor and then slid back into bed, pulling the thin blanket over both of you. She opened her arms, and you went, tucking yourself against her side. Your head fit perfectly into the hollow of her shoulder. Her skin was warm, and you could feel the steady beat of her heart under your ear.
You lay like that for a long time, just breathing. You could feel the tension slowly leaving your body, replaced by a deep, languid contentment. You had never felt so safe, so... right. Here, in this room, in this girl's arms, the world outside didn't exist. There was no chapel, no Sister Irene, no rules. There was just this.
"You okay?" she asked, her voice a low rumble against your ear.
You nodded, your face pressed against her skin. "I just... I didn't know it could be like that."
She chuckled, her hand stroking your hair. "Like what? So good you forget your own name?"
You felt a blush creep up your neck. "Yeah," you mumbled. "Like that."
"Good," she said, her fingers still combing through your hair. "You deserve to feel good."
The words hung in the air, simple and profound. You deserved to feel good. It was a revolutionary thought. You had spent your entire life being told what you deserved: punishment, correction, salvation. But never this. Never simple, unadulterated pleasure.
You shifted, turning your head to look up at her. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed in the dim light. She looked younger like this, softer. Without the smirk, without the challenging glint in her eyes, she was just a girl. A beautiful, dangerous girl who had just ruined you in the best possible way.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, her eyes opening to meet yours.
"You," you said, the word coming out before you could stop it.
A slow smile spread across her face. "Good answer," she said, leaning down to kiss you. It was a soft kiss, gentle and sweet, a stark contrast to the hungry, demanding kisses from before. It was a kiss that said, I see you. I'm still here.
When she pulled away, you rested your head back on her shoulder. "Lara?" you asked, your voice quiet.
"Hmm?"
"What... what are we?"
She was silent for a long moment, her hand still stroking your hair. You held your breath, waiting for the answer. You weren't sure what you wanted her to say. Friends? Lovers? Something else entirely?
"We're whatever we want to be," she finally said, her voice firm. "There are no rules here. Remember?"
You nodded, a wave of relief washing over you. No rules. That was the only rule that mattered.
You closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of her heartbeat lull you into a state of half-sleep. You were aware of everything: the weight of her arm around you, the softness of the sheets, the lingering scent of her perfume. It was all perfect. It was all yours.
"Next time," she whispered, her lips brushing against your forehead. "I'll teach you how to use your mouth."
You shivered, a fresh wave of desire washing over you, despite your exhaustion. You opened your eyes, looking up at her. "Promise?"
She smirked, the old predatory glint back in her eyes. "Promise."
You smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached your eyes. You couldn't wait.
does anybody else go do the weekly check up on their favourite dead tag only to see a shitpost or something only vaguely related to the tag and feel this deep sense of dissapointment and emptiness cause you know this is The Post Of The Month
hung baby daddy!manon who always reminds you of how good you guys used to fuck each other. how many sheets and comforter sets you had to replace. the broke headboards. the dents and cracks in the walls. you two used to have a time.
“remember the night we made y/d/n”
“i made sure it stuck.”
“we had some fun together huh.”
hung baby daddy!manon who convinces you to stay the night with her. your daughter being sound asleep in her room. leaving you and manon wide awake. one thing leading to another, now you’re on your side with manon’s huge dick sliding in and out of you. she leaves soft kisses down your back as she pounds into you
“what if we wake her?”
“shh sh shh we won’t, just keep taking this dick baby.”
hung baby daddy!manon who always sends pictures of herself when you ask where your baby is. it’s a bittersweet feeling knowing that she’s no longer your baby anymore. sometimes when your daughter is asleep, she sends something else instead..
“where’s my baby?”
“im right here? we’re right here.”
“manon.”
“you know you like what you see baby.”
hung baby daddy!manon who is always in your business. wants to know who you’re with, who you’re fucking. just alll in your business. and tries to make it seem like she’s asking for the sake of your daughter but.. you both know it’s not.
“don’t have just anyone around my child.”
“who car is that outside of your house?”
“don’t be fucking when my daughter is around.”
“who are you fucking actually.”
“dick bigger than mine?”
hung baby daddy!manon who always invites herself in when dropping off your daughter. she lowkey has a bag packed in her car, she always has a motive.
“im lowkey tired can i crash here..”
“she says she wants me back at home.”
“she’s one.”
“i can tell by her eyes. look how happy she is that we’re together.”
“okay manon. you can stay.
hung baby daddy!manonwho wants her family back together. everytime she stay the night at your house, she gets sad knowing this isn’t the reality anymore. she knows she’s extremely busy for you right now but she always has hope that you guys will end up together.
“let me move back in.”
“we’ll make it work baby i promise.”
“i want us to be a family.”
hung baby daddy!manon who fucks you to sleep as soon as your daughter is sound asleep. head pushed into the pillow. manon’s grip tight on your neck. her big cock slamming into you repeatedly. manon was satisfied knowing no one could ever fuck you the way she did. she didn’t want anyone else either. she wanted you.
“that’s right, take this dick baby.”
“cum all on it baby, it’s yours.”
“I’ll put another baby in you right now princess.”
“just say the word baby.”
THANKS FOR THE REQUEST! already 100 followers thank you for all the support! more fics coming soon! my request are opennn! have a blessed one!
content. mommy!sophia x fem! reader smut anal sex dirty talk humiliation degradation playing w food
You had been bothering Sophia all fucking day with that lollipop. Running your tongue along the tip provocatively, not taking your eyes off her. Pushing it in and out of your mouth, sucking hard until your cheeks hollowed out.
So you shouldn't have been surprised when she grabbed your arms, crossed them behind your knees, and forced you to bend over. Your legs pressed against your chest, your already naked pussy exposed to her.
"Let's see if you like it so much when I'm the one playing."
She rips the lollipop out of your hand and then goes down. The cold tip of the lollipop brushes your clit and you can't help but moan. Sophia smiles.
She pushes the lollipop inside. The candy slides into your entrance, cold at first, then warm from your own heat. It's small, rounded, but the sensation is so strange that you moan.
"So easy," Sophia murmurs. "Look how it went in. That's how easily you open up for me."
She pushes the lollipop in again, deeper. Pulls it out. Runs it over your clit in slow circles. Pushes it in. Pulls it out. Every time the candy tip touches that hypersensitive spot, a moan escapes your throat. It's small. It's too small. You need more.
"Mommy…" you moan. "More."
"Oh, you want bigger?"
She pushes the lollipop all the way in. So deep that you feel the plastic stick. The candy is almost melted now, sticky. But it's not enough. It doesn't fill you.
"Mommy, please…"
"Please what?"
"Put… put something bigger…"
"Bigger?" Sophia raises an eyebrow. She pulls out the lollipop. Looks at it. The pink candy is nothing more than a wet stain around the stick now. She sets it aside on the nightstand, then looks back at you. "What do you want me to put?"
"I don't know… please…"
"My fingers? You want my fingers?"
"Yes…"
"Mmm nah, you don't deserve it." Those words make you move your hips desperately and tear a distressed moan from you, which only makes Sophia laugh.
She spits on your center, and you almost thought she was finally going to put her fingers in, but then you feel the saliva travel smoothly further down.
Much further down. You feel the warm splash of her spit right on that spot that no one has ever touched, and your whole body tenses.
Sophia circles the hole with the lollipop, spreading the lubrication, leaving everything sticky in its wake.
"No…" you say, your voice barely a thread. "No, mommy, not there."
"No?" she repeats, as if she doesn't understand.
"Not there, please…"
Then she pushes.
The lollipop goes in. The sensation is so strange, so invasive, that you cry. Hot tears run down your cheeks as Sophia moves the lollipop inside you, slowly, in circles.
"Shh," she says, her gaze hypnotized by your sore hole. "Shh, it doesn't hurt. See? It doesn't hurt."
"No, mommy, take it out…"
She keeps moving the lollipop. In and out. In and out. While your pussy clenches around nothing and won't stop releasing excitement, soaking everything even more. You cry. You squirm. But you can't close your legs because you have to be a good girl for mommy.
"Mommy… please… enough…"
After what felt like an eternity, Sophia pulled the lollipop out.
The plastic slid out of you with a wet sound, and you felt the air enter that hole that had been completely virginal before. Your breath came in short, wet gasps.
Sophia brought the lollipop to your mouth.
"Open," she said.
You obeyed, and she put the lollipop in. There was very little candy left — a sweet and sour taste at the same time, mixed with the flavor of your own mess.
"What does it taste like?" Sophia asked.
You tried to answer, but your voice wouldn't come out. Your throat was dry from moaning so much, from crying so much, and the lollipop in your mouth wouldn't let you form words. Just a muffled sound, an unintelligible babble.
Sophia waited a second. Two. Then her hand lifted and fell against your cheek. The slap wasn't violent, but it echoed in the silence of the room like a gunshot.
"I asked you," she said, and her voice had a new edge to it, sharper. "What does it taste like?"
"Strawberry," you managed to say, and the words came out between sobs, broken, barely understandable. "It tastes like strawberry."
"Good girl," she said, with a smile as her hand went up to your head, stroking your hair gently.
more married sodani x sugar baby reader pls pls pls pls
dom!sophia x sugarbaby!fem!reader x dom!daniela
warnings/tags: nsfw content, some fluff ig, spanking, mommy kink, mami kink, dacryphilia, some overstim
a/n: first req in a while 😉
you messed up. you knew it the second you walk through the door and see them waiting on the velvet couch, sophia with her legs crossed and a glass of wine balanced on her knee, daniela standing behind her with her arms folded.
"come here," sophia says.
her voice is soft but there's no room for anything else. you drop your bag by the door and walk over, the wood floor cold under your bare feet. your heart is beating in your throat.
daniela tilts her head. "we saw the bank notification, baby. you spent how much?"
"i know mami, i'm sorry—"
"sorry doesn't undo it." daniela circles around the couch and stands next to sophia. their matching gold bracelets catch the light. "you know the rule. no shopping without asking first."
you stare at the floor. "i just wanted something pretty."
sophia sets her wine glass down. the little clink makes you jump. "and you're our pretty girl, aren't you? but pretty girls who break the rules get punishments."
daniela pats her lap. "over. now."
your stomach flips. you step toward daniela and lower yourself across her thighs, the soft linen of her pants pressing against your tummy. she pushes your skirt up until it bunches at your waist. your lace panties—the ones you bought without permission—are on full display.
"look at that," daniela murmurs. her fingers trace the edge of the lace. "is this what you bought?"
"yes mami."
"pretty." she hooks her fingers in the waistband and pulls them down, just enough to bare your skin. the air is cold. you shiver. "but you still broke the rule."
sophia stands and moves in front of you. she lifts your chin with two fingers so you have to look at her. "eyes on me, baby. i want to see every little expression."
daniela's hand comes down. the sound is louder than the sting, at first—a clean, sharp smack that echoes through the quiet apartment. your whole body tenses up.
"count," daniela says.
"one,"
another. a little harder, right on the same spot. "two."
by the fifth one your skin is burning and your eyes are wet. you blink fast, trying to keep the tears inside, but sophia is watching so close you can see the glint in her dark eyes.
"are you going to cry, baby?" sophia's thumb strokes your cheekbone. "it's okay. let it out."
you shake your head no but your body doesn't listen. the sixth smack lands and a tear spills over, runs hot down your cheek, drips off your jaw.
daniela stops spanking you. her hand rests on your heated skin, a still weight. "she's crying."
"i know." sophia's voice sounds different now, lower and slower. she wipes the tear with her thumb and brings it to her lips. "god, you're so sweet when you cry."
your breath shudders. another tear follows, then another, and sophia leans in and kisses the wet trail right off your face. her mouth is warm. you make a sound you've never made before, something small and broken.
"did that feel good?" daniela asks. her palm rubs gentle circles over the sting. "getting your punishment?"
"yes mami." your voice is thick and blurry.
"you like being our crying little mess?"
you nod. sophia's tongue touches the corner of your eye and you moan.
daniela lifts you up and settles you sideways on the couch between them. your skirt is still twisted around your middle and your panties are halfway down your thighs. you can't stop crying, not full sobs but a steady leak that streams down your face, and both of them just stare at you like you're the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.
"look at her," sophia whispers to daniela. "her lashes are all stuck together."
daniela touches your wet cheek. "i love when she gets like this." she brings her wet finger to her own mouth and sucks it clean. "salty."
sophia laughs, a soft breath. "you're such a weirdo."
"you're the one who kissed a tear."
"it was right there."
they talk over you like you're a precious object they're admiring. your chest heaves. your nose is stuffy. you sniffle and sophia immediately grabs a tissue from the side table and holds it to your nose.
"blow."
you do, and she wipes your face clean, and then she kisses your forehead so tenderly your heart hurts.
"pretty girl," she murmurs against your skin. "our pretty, pretty girl."
daniela cups the back of your neck. her thumb rubs a slow line down your nape. "you took your spanking so well. makes me wanna give you a reward."
your pulse jumps. "what kind of reward?"
"the kind where we make you cry for a different reason." daniela's vision flicks to sophia. "right, mommy?"
sophia grins. she leans back against the arm of the couch and pulls you with her until you're resting against her chest, your head tucked under her chin. daniela kneels on the floor in front of you and pushes your knees apart.
"still so red," daniela says, running a finger over your punished skin. you hiss and fresh tears spring up. "does it hurt, baby?"
"a little."
"good." she presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. "want mommy and mami to kiss it better?"
"yes please."
sophia's hands slide down your arms and lock around your wrists, pinning them to your sides. "stay still. let daniela take care of you."
daniela pushes your skirt higher, all the way up to your waist, and pulls your panties off completely. you're bare and exposed, your skin still humming from the spanking. she lowers her head and breathes out warm air over you, and your whole body shakes.
"look at how wet she is," daniela says, not to you but to sophia. "she loved getting spanked."
"told you she would." sophia's lips brush your ear. "didn't i tell you?"
"you told me." daniela's tongue flicks out, a quick little touch that makes you gasp. "and you were right."
she does it again, slower this time, dragging her tongue through your wetness, and you cry out. sophia holds your wrists tighter. more tears spill from your eyes, not from pain anymore but from the overwhelming feeling of being so seen, so held, so completely theirs.
"the tears are still coming," sophia notes. she sounds fascinated. "daniela, look."
daniela lifts her head. her lips are shiny. "oh, baby. you're crying again."
"i can't help it."
"don't help it." daniela crawls up your body and kisses your mouth, and you taste yourself on her, salt and sweet mixed together. she licks into your mouth while sophia bites your shoulder gently, and you're trapped between them, safe and small and crying and so turned on you think you might die.
daniela pulls back. a string of spit connects your mouths. "should we keep going?"
sophia hums. "i don't know. she did break the rule."
"she did."
"maybe we should make her wait." sophia's hand slides from your wrist down to your belly, stops just above where you need her. "what do you think, baby? can you wait until tomorrow?"
your eyes go wide. more tears leak out. "please, mommy, please don't make me wait."
sophia and daniela look at each other. something passes between them.
daniela grins.
"we'll think about it." she pulls you off sophia's chest and into her own lap, wrapping your legs around her waist. your bare core presses against the front of her pants and you whimper. "but first—"
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i'll let your body decide (bestie!marzini && virgin!reader) cw: SMUT oral(reader receiving) fingering vibrator use tit fondling/sucking squirting FOURSOME
a/n: hehehehe
You felt awkward as hell sitting there while the girls talked about their love lives, hookups, relationships, the shit they'd done with men and women like it was normal conversation.
Manon was laughing into her drink, Lara wouldn't shut the fuck up, and Daniela kept adding little details that made everyone groan.
You just sat there quiet, curled up into yourself a little.
And then it hit you.
You'd never really done any of that. Never been intimate with anyone.
Never even had an orgasm.
Lara, squinting at you from across the couch. "Why are you so fucking quiet?"
Your face heated instantly. "I'm not."
"Yes you are," Daniela laughed. "You do that thing where you stare at the floor when you're uncomfortable."
Manon looked over at you then, softer than the other two. "Oh my god," she said slowly. "You've never—"
"Don't finish that sentence," you mumbled fast, already wanting to disappear.
That only made them lose it harder.
"Holy shit," Lara said, throwing her head back against the couch. "She's actually never had sex, how innocent are you?"
"I am not innocent," you shot back, embarrassed.
"Baby, you flinch when sex scenes come on TV," Daniela said.
"Because they're awkward!"
Manon laughed quietly beside you before nudging your shoulder. "There's literally nothing wrong with that, y'know."
You shrugged, picking at the sleeve of your hoodie. "I dunno. Listening to you guys talk about all this shit makes me feel fucking behind or something."
The room got quieter after that.
Daniela frowned immediately. "Behind who?"
"Yeah," Lara said. "There's not a deadline for this stuff."
Manon leaned her head against your shoulder for a second. "You're shy. That's all. Nobody cares."
You let out a small laugh. "You guys care enough to bully me about it."
"Obviously," Daniela said. "That's what best friends are for."
"Have you really never had sex?" Lara asked, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"I've also never..." you trailed off, suddenly unable to finish.
Manon squinted at you. "Never what?"
"Never had an orgasm," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lara laughed like she didn't believe you, but then got quiet when she realized you were being serious.
"Like you never even touched yourself?" Manon asked, her eyes wide.
You shook your head no.
"You don't have a vibrator or a sex toy?" Daniela asked.
"I mean I bought one, I haven't opened it," you said looking at the three girls.
Lara stared at you for a moment, then she smirked.
She whispered something into Manon's ear, the Swiss girl looked at her for a moment before whispering the same into Dani's ear.
Daniela smiled.
You wanted to know so badly what the fuck they were talking about.
"How about we take you to your room? It's a little embarrassing talking about this out here," Manon pulled you up from the couch by your hand and led you.
Daniela and Lara softly giggling behind you.
You were nervous.
"Where do you keep it?" Daniela asked.
"Keep what?" you said.
"The vibrator idiot," Lara said.
"Oh! It's under my bed... why?" you asked more nervous than before.
"No reason," Manon said getting on the floor to look for it.
Lara sat next to you and started stroking your hair.
"Found it!" Manon said holding it up.
"It's still in the packaging," Daniela said.
Lara snorted. "Were you scared to open it?" she asked you.
"A little," you said softly.
"Cute," Manon mumbled biting her lip.
"Why don't we help you use it?" Daniela said, getting closer to you.
You were confused. "What?" you asked.
"We help you use it? Like we help you cum," Lara said like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"I..." You didn't know how to answer that. You've always found your friends attractive but you've never acted on it.
Too shy to.
But hearing this, it made you want them even more.
"We would never do something you don't want us to do," Manon clarified.
Dani and Lara nodded with her.
Your eyes flickered back and forth between them. "Ok," you said.
Dani squealed in excitement. "Ok lay down," Lara said, you did exactly as told.
"Can we take off her shorts?" Daniela asked Manon, the girl nodded.
"Keep her panties on, she's still a virgin," Manon smirked, and they laughed at you.
You covered your face in embarrassment.
Lara took your hands away. "Don't cover your face, we need to see it."
Dani took off your shorts.
"Aww these are cute," she said playing with your panties.
You squirmed. Lara unzipped your hoodie, only finding you wearing a bra.
She smirked. "No shirt? Wow for someone so 'innocent' I would've thought..." she teased.
You felt your face get hot. "Stop, I was changing when you guys came and I didn't know what else to wear," you said softly.
"A shirt," Dani said pinching your nipple through your bra.
That made you yelp.
"Dani not yet," Manon said.
She finally got the vibrator out of its packaging, she looked at the levels on it.
"Put it at the highest one," Lara said, with a sparkle in her eyes.
Your eyes shot to Lara.
Manon laughed. "We'll be gentle, I promise." Manon turned it on, the noise made your stomach get butterflies.
"Are you ready?" Manon asked softly. You nodded unsure.
She placed it on your clit, and you immediately closed your legs.
Daniela pried them open. "Don't close your legs," she said.
Lara was looking at your face the entire time.
She noticed you were biting your lip to not make noises.
"You can be loud, we won't judge you, I promise. It'll feel so much better if you just let us do what we want," Lara said, her hand caressing your face.
"Okay?" she said. You nodded.
You unbit your lip, and you heard noises come out of you, little whimpers and moans.
Daniela felt herself getting wet at the sound of that.
"Guys look," Manon called to the other two girls.
A wet mark was forming on your panties. "We barely did anything," Daniela said.
She felt her hand inching closer to your cunt, and she put her three fingers inside your panty to collect the precum.
You moaned.
"Dani," Lara said.
"What?" she said, licking it off her fingers.
Lara whispered something into Dani's ear, her eyes lit up. "Oh Manon, please can we?" Daniela asked the girl.
"Not yet," she said.
You started getting louder, a weird feeling forming in the pit of your stomach.
Lara started recording from her phone.
The vibrator hummed against your clothed clit.
Daniela started fondling your tits through the bra, rolling your nipples between her fingers.
"Please," you whimpered, not sure what you were begging for.
"What do you want, baby?" Manon asked, increasing the pressure of the vibrator slightly.
"I... it feels weird," you gasped. "Something's happening."
"That's the point, sweetheart," Lara smirked, still filming. "Let it happen."
Daniela leaned down and whispered in your ear, "We're going to make you feel so good. Better than you've ever felt before."
The pressure in your stomach intensified. Your back arched off the bed.
Manon firmly pressed the vibrator harder against your clit.
Daniela suddenly pulled your panties aside, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air. "Fuck, you're so wet," she breathed.
The weird feeling intensified until it was almost painful. "I think... I think I need to pee," you panicked.
"That's not pee, baby," Lara laughed. "That's your orgasm coming. Don't fight it."
Manon moved the vibrator in small circles as Daniela slid a finger along your slit. "Please," you whimpered again.
"Please what?" Daniela teased.
"Please make me... make me..."
"Make you what?" Lara prompted, zooming in with her phone.
"Make me cum," you finally managed to say, your face burning with embarrassment and arousal.
Daniela smirked and slid a finger inside you. You gasped at the intrusion.
"So tight," she murmured. "And all for us."
Manon increased the vibrator to its highest setting.
The intense vibrations sent shockwaves through your body.
Daniela added another finger, curling them inside you to hit that special spot.
"Oh god," you cried out, your hips bucking involuntarily. "It's too much!"
"No such thing," Lara said from behind the phone. "Take it."
The weird feeling in your stomach suddenly exploded.
Your vision went white as your body convulsed.
A gush of fluid sprayed from your pussy, soaking the bed and Daniela's hand.
"Fuck yes," Manon cheered. "There it is!"
You collapsed against the bed, panting heavily, completely spent.
But the girls weren't done with you yet.
"Round two," Daniela grinned, she didn't hesitate.
She lowered her head between your trembling thighs, her hot breath ghosting over your sensitive, soaked flesh.
"I've wanted to taste you for so long," she murmured before her tongue flattened against your clit.
You cried out, your body jerking from the overstimulation.
It was too much, but you never wanted it to stop.
Lara shifted, putting her phone down on the nightstand, still recording.
"My turn," she said, leaning over you.
She unhooked your bra with one hand, freeing your breasts.
Her mouth immediately latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hard while her hand rolled the other between her fingers.
The dual sensations of Daniela's tongue flicking relentlessly against your clit and Lara's wet mouth on your tit had you seeing stars again.
Manon moved to kneel by your head.
She looked down at you, her eyes dark with lust as she watched her two friends devour your body. "You look so fucking beautiful like this," she said, her voice husky.
She leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, messy kiss, swallowing your moans.
You felt the bed shift and glanced over to see Manon had slipped her own hand between her legs.
She was rubbing her clit in tight circles, her breath hitching as she kissed you.
The sight of her getting off to your pleasure sent another jolt of arousal through you.
Daniela was eating you out like a woman starved, her tongue delving into your entrance, fucking you with it before returning to your swollen clit.
She slid two fingers inside you, curling them to find that spot again that made you see white.
"Fuck, Dani, right there," you gasped against Manon's lips.
Lara released your nipple with a wet pop.
"She's gonna make you squirt again, isn't she?" she said, her voice filled with wicked delight.
She bit down gently on your other nipple, making you yelp.
Manon broke the kiss, her own breathing heavy as she worked her fingers faster.
"I'm so close watching you," she panted, her forehead resting against yours.
"Cum for us again, baby. Let her make you cum."
The pressure was building again, impossibly fast.
Daniela's fingers pumped in and out of you, her tongue working your clit mercilessly.
Lara's teeth scraped against your sensitive nipple.
Manon's desperate whimpers in your ear as she chased her own orgasm.
"I... I can't," you cried out, your hands fisting in the sheets.
"Yes you can," Daniela demanded, her voice muffled by your pussy. "Give it to me."
The coil in your stomach snapped.
Your back arched off the bed as another orgasm tore through you, even more intense than the first.
You screamed as you squirted again, drenching Daniela's face and the bed beneath you.
At the same time, Manon cried out, her body shuddering as she came against her own hand.
Lara watched you both, a triumphant smirk on her face as she finally released your now bruised nipple.
You collapsed, completely boneless, your body twitching with aftershocks.
Daniela slowly licked you clean before crawling up to kiss you, letting you taste your own release.
Manon collapsed beside you, her chest heaving, and Lara snuggled up on your other side.
"See?" Daniela murmured against your lips. "Told you we'd make you feel good."
