hi there

i might make some more stuff soon -accepting requests - billie and manon fan 🩵

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

i’m writing chapter three it will be out soon!

maybe… heh..

anyways do my poll

if yes wins then i will list challenge options soon

should i do some type of challenge…? for like fic writing

yes

no

my button 😛

Voting ended onJul 26

oki bye

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

Pay off the Debt

Katseye ot5 x reader

summary: your dad likes to gamble a lot, a lot a lot, to the point where he gambles away all his money, and the only thing left, is his own daughter, and you being the bratty and resistant type aren’t gonna give them a easy time, so they’ll just have to make you.

triggers : smut , degradation , overstimulation, rough, spankings, beating, anal and oral, piss kink, mommy kink, daddy kink, choking, cursing, dirty talk, double pen, reader is 18, kinda no like consent or permission to stuff, some other stuff idk

prev - main - next

Chapter 3 - Escape

y/n wakes up and it’s light outside, damn she slept the whole night.

she tries to move but is met with the pain in her ass, she winces and immediately tenses up, her ass stings so bad, nobody has ever beat her like that before, not even her dad

that’s when she smells breakfast, and of course all of a sudden her stomach is hungry and growls, but she isn’t going down there

some minutes later she hears footsteps, she immediately tenses up and fakes sleep, the footsteps grow closer and stop at the door, then the knob slowly starts turning and the door opens, she can’t see who it is because she buried her face in the pillow to make it seem like she was actually sleep, but she prays it isn’t lara or megan.

“i know you aren’t sleep.” the voice comes out sharp but gentle at the same time, y/n slowly raises her head and looks at who’s standing there, its manon from what she remembers, manon is wearing a black and white suit like she’s heading somewhere professional

manon sits on the bed and pulls the blanket down off of y/n, she tenses up staring at manon trying to calculate her next move

“i’m just coming to get you for breakfast, and i apologize about my friends, they may get, carried away sometimes.” manon says brushing hair out y/ns face

y/n doesn’t say anything just stares at her

“you mute or something.?” manon says looking a little irritated that y/n isn’t speaking back to her, “whatever come eat breakfast,” manon says grabbing y/ns arm and pulling her to sit up.

y/n sits up and pulls her arm away, “don’t do that.” manon says grabbing her again and pulling her out the bed and out the door, she walks y/n downstairs to where the other girls are all in the kitchen dressed professional too.

manon pushed y/n into a chair at the island counter and daniela puts a plate of french toast bacon and eggs in front of her

y/n looks at the plate and then at the 5 girls looking at her, “what did you put in this some sleeping shit or something.”

“watch your mouth.” sophia says pinching her arm, “we’re being kind to you be fucking grateful.”

“bitch needs another lesson.?” lara says moving closer to y/n and yanking on her hair.

“stop.” manon says before shoving the food closer to y/n, lara lets go of her hair with a shove

the girls start gathering their things like they are going somewhere.

“we have a meeting so your gonna be here alone but let’s go over some rules shall we.” sophia says grabbing y/ns face “you are not to leave this motherfucking house do you understand.? we have guards outside so play if you want to, don’t go in our office or rooms, the only places you are allowed in is this kitchen, your bedroom, the bathroom, that’s it, anywhere else and your done.” sophia let’s go of her face and the girls start heading towards the front door.

“don’t act a fool.” megan says before following behind the girls, “make sure she stays in this house” you hear daniela say to one of the guards.

you end up eating the breakfast but a thought can’t stop crossing your mind, escape, get out of here.

this is your only chance so why not take it, y/n thinks to yourself.

so y/n finishes her food and starts looking around the house, she looks in rooms and stuff before coming across a room with a balcony door.

she looks around seeing nobody and starts walking in the room, she sees a desk and papers on it, must be one of their offices or something.

the thought crossed her mind again, escape.. this may be your only chance, go, do it, go

so y/n slowly walks towards the balcony door and opens it finding it unlocked, she steps out onto the porch and does not see any guards around

that’s when she hears footsteps behind her, she runs off the porch and into the woods in front of her..

she did it, she escaped, now she just needs to run

she runs for a long time before finally realizing she might be okay, she takes a break and sits under this like rock cave that’s not super big, somehow she ends up dozing off which is stupid of her

- hours later -

the girls get back to the house having a conversation about something when the one of the guards runs up to them

“m..miss she..got away, we tried to stop her but she’s a fast runner, we’ve been looking for her but can’t find her!”

“are you fucking kidding me, you guys can’t keep track of a fucking small 18 year old girl.” lara says pissed as fuck

they go back out to the car and start driving looking around for her, after at least a hour of driving, the sun starting to set they decide to get out the car and start walking in the woods to see if she’s in there

they all split up a try to find her, with no luck.

y/n slowly opens her eyes as she hears footsteps around her, she looks around and sees the sun is almost done setting, shit she fell asleep, she gets out the cave only to see daniela in the distance, fuck she has to go

she starts quietly creeping through the woods making her way out, she looks behind her to make sure nobody is following while she continues walking, and when she looks back in front of her there’s megan standing there

y/n immediately starts running the opposite direction, she runs throughout the woods before running right into lara’s hand

she falls backwards and hits her head, ringing in her ears, lara leans down and grabs her collar pulling her to her face

“your fucking done y/n.”

prev - main - next

umm yeah all done sorry it took so long, i don’t be feelings like writing fr fr, sooo my taglist is full btw sorry heh, anddd this is not proofread so if the plot is a mess im so sorry 😞

anyways that’s it, uhh,

oki byeee

~ Taglist ~

@vivinquisha @mxzziexp @sarahsonya78 @aoeiurgnmddk @manog0zii @scissorcity-stan @meganseyekon @shiho0pirate @highonheavens @needmeganskiendiel @heartsforari @friendlyfagg @lecialeaked @vnlxxx @iamarandompersonhehe @strawberrystrap69 @xiiaann @marshalllthemarshmallow @ningro97 @czechsooth @worrylater67

[nakylvr]

— HESITATING ✧ M.S

summary જ⁀➴ your best friend says her plug is unavailable for a few weeks, telling you to contact her protege, megan skiendiel for any resupply needed. while you don't get involved in these things, your friend begs you to go over and get some for her, leaving you to deal with the non-professional dealer.

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ fluff, mild angst, nsfw content, dealer!megan, f!reader, g!p megan, virgin!reader, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), protected sex(we cheered), missionary, aftercare(!!)

wc જ⁀➴ 6,2 k

minors dni

“you want me to do what?”

you look at your best friend like she just told you the most groundbreaking thing, eyes wide and lips parted.

“it's not that bad!” yunjin says.

“you want me to get weed for you? i didn't even know you smoked weed!” you throw your hands in the air dramatically.

“please, yn?” she looks at you with those pleading puppy eyes. “it's not even my main plug. it's this other girl. don't worry, seriously.”

you blink at her, contemplating what to do in your head. you sigh and nod your head. “okay, fine. whatever.”

yunjin grins, hugging you tightly. “you're the best!”

“uh-huh.” you nod.

-

you can't believe you're standing in front of some cheap studio apartment in l.a., waiting for this girl to open the door so you can get what you need for yunjin. you keep glancing at your phone, making sure you're at the right address, before you hear the door click and open, making you quickly look up.

standing there is a tall girl, dyed ginger hair with the softest brown eyes you’ve seen, even if they're reddened and low-lidded from smoking. she's wearing a hoodie and grey sweatpants, and is leaning against the door looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“oh,” she lets out, a smile forming on her face and whisker dimples showing. “you're yn, right? here to pick up yunjin’s stuff?”

“yeah.” you nod, awkwardly shifting on your feet.

“come in.” she waves, gesturing for you to come inside as she opens the door wider. “i’m megan by the way.”

you step inside the apartment, glancing around for a second before the door closes behind you, and megan walks by.

“you can sit wherever. just gimmie a minute,” megan says, walking to a backpack and pulling out the largest bag filled with weed you've seen.

your eyes widen subtly seeing the bag, but you quickly look away and find yourself sitting down on the small couch. you cross your legs over each other anxiously, your hands resting on your knee as you silently watch megan do whatever it is she does best.

megan sits criss-cross in front of her small glass coffee table that has mixed energy drinks, lighters, blunts, and half-grinded weed in a tray. she opens the bag and grabs a small tupperware container, setting it on the scale in front of her. she turns the scale on, tapping it a few times before putting the container on it and starting to pour the contents.

“so…” megan says, looking at the scale. “you smoke?”

“oh, no.” you instantly shake your head and wave your hand. “it's uh–not my kind of thing.”

“mm.” megan hums, nodding her head. “it's not for everyone,” she says. and it's without any type of mocking tone like you usually hear. “you in school?”

“yeah.” you nod. “junior in a uni.”

“what's your major?” she asks next, still looking at the scale.

“computer science and engineering,” you answer after a moment of hesitation.

megan’s eyes finally flicker up to you, a little smile forming on her face. “wow, you must be super smart then.”

you shake your head, face heating up. “i wouldn't say that,” you say.

“it's a hard major,” megan responds, looking back down at the table. “you have to be a little smart to stay in it if you're a junior.”

“i guess.” you shrug, struggling to take the compliment. “are you in school or anything?”

megan laughs and shakes her head. “oh. no, hell no,” she answers. “i barely graduated high school and decided that was it for me.”

“college isn't for everyone,” you say. “it's a lot.”

“that's what i was told.” megan nods. “plus, being dyslexic doesn't make things any easier.”

you can't help but ask, “you're dyslexic?”

“it's not a big deal.” megan shakes her head. she closes the ziplock bag and sets it on the ground next to her, then grabs a smaller ziplock bag and pours the contents into it. “i didn't want to bother getting into a school and then failing out ‘cause i couldn't understand it.”

“i’m sorry about that,” you say.

“don't worry,” megan responds, shaking her head again. “it's not that big of a deal.” she closes the bag and grabs a sharpie off the table, writing the name of the strain on the bag.

you don’t know what to say now. you fiddle with your hands mindlessly, and megan notices. she puts the sharpie back on the table and looks at you.

“you okay?” megan asks.

“hm?” you blink a few times. “oh, y-yeah, sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” megan tells you. she pauses for a moment before asking the question she had been wondering this whole time. “you haven’t done this before, have you?”

you shake your head, eyes averting from hers. “was it that obvious?” you mumble.

“kinda.” megan nods. “but it’s alright. i have to ask, though, why?”

you shrug. “yunjin didn’t want to so she asked me to.”

“and you agreed? without knowing who i am or how these things work?” she questions.

you nod, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands anxiously. “yeah, i-i mean she asked me so i couldn’t just say no,” you answer.

megan hums and nods her head. you’re not sure what that is supposed to mean, nor do you know if it’s good or bad. you’re growing more anxious by the minute, and you don’t know what to do.

suddenly, megan stands and hands you the bag of weed without saying anything. you scramble to your feet and stand, quickly grabbing the bag and reaching into your pocket to give her the money yunjin gave you to pay her with. megan tsks and shakes her head.

“actually…” her voice trails off. “you keep the money. but i want your number instead.”

you blink, slowly processing her words. “what?” you let out.

“give me your number, and you tell yunjin to bring you around every time she needs a re-up,” megan says, smiling.

she’s being serious, you know that much. but why? was this something that usually happened? no, that wasn’t believable. you should say no and just give her the money. but the longer you stare into her brown puppy eyes and that cute smile, you want to say yes.

you swallow the lump in your throat and manage to respond. “yeah, okay.”

megan’s smile grows bigger, and her whisker dimples show. “great.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you stand in front of megan’s apartment, hoodie and a pair of shorts on, as the brisk breeze of the night hits you, making you shiver. you texted her earlier that you would be stopping by, and she responded, but she could fall asleep within seconds after texting. so you had no clue if she was even awake right now.

it’s been a few months since the first time you stopped by this apartment and met megan. since then, you had been going each time to get yunjin’s supply of whatever she needed. you would stay for a little longer than you should’ve each time, though. you couldn’t help it. something about megan just drew you in the more you were around her. she was so sweet to you, and she was funny, and she seemed to really care for you.

that being said, you haven’t been anywhere with her outside of her apartment. she probably doesn’t even like you the way you like her; it would be no surprise in your opinion. she probably had multiple different girls lined up that would throw everything away and jump at the opportunity to get with her.

you're contemplating turning back, but the door unlocks and opens.

“hey,” megan mumbles, rubbing her eyes with her hand. “you okay?”

“yeah.” you nod. “i just uh, i didn't want to be at home right now.”

there's more to it, megan can tell even if her half-awake mind. but she doesn't say anything. “okay.” she opens the door wider and moves aside so you can come in.

“do you want something to drink?” megan asks, walking into her kitchen.

“no, i’m alright,” you reply, walking behind and stopping at the couch, sitting down.

there's something definitely wrong, megan thinks. you always ask for water, barely take a few sips, and then take it with you when you leave. so for you to want nothing is definitely a sign. still, she grabs two and walks back over to the couch, sitting next to you and putting both on the coffee table.

“alright.” she leans back into the couch. “what's up?”

you’re looking down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers out of nervousness. she knows something's up, and you know that. what's the worst that could happen if you said the truth anyway? lose the first girl you fell in love with. right. that's the one that scared you.

sure, you’ve had a few crushes on people throughout high school, but once you got into college, you became so focused on academics that you didn't even have time to consider liking someone. even with the occasional party you would attend, nothing would go far because you would leave as soon as possible. until you met megan, that is. you're not even sure what it specifically was. her soft brown eyes that gazed at you like you were the world, her smile that flashed those whisker dimples that made your knees weak, that low voice she would use when it was late and you were calling or stopping by. okay, so maybe it was a few different things. but still! this was a first for you, and you were freaking out.

“yn?”

you're shaken out of your thoughts when you hear your name, looking up and seeing megan leaned closer now, eyeing you with subtle concern etched on her face. without thinking, the words come stumbling out.

“um, i-i kinda have feelings for you–like uh, not friend feelings–well–not kinda, i mean i-i do i just uh, i’ve been terrified of telling you.”

megan’s eyes widened slightly, not expecting that. she blinked, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. “oh.”

you're judging her reaction as a bad one, and you feel your heart twist, looking away from her. “i-i should go,” you stutter, feeling the tears start to build as you move to stand.

“wait!” megan grabs your hand to stop you, and you do, glancing at her. “don't go. please.” she pauses before continuing. “i like you too. i think i have since i met you, and i didn't say anything because i didn't want to push something onto you, or you don't feel the same way. i was scared. and it's so stupid.”

you look at her more closely, and you can tell she's serious. that she's not just saying it to make you feel better about the situation, and still, you can't help but whisper, “really?”

“yeah.” megan nods. “i do, really.”

you don't know what to do now, staring at her with glassy, tear-filled eyes that are threatening to spill. her hand slowly cups your face, wiping away the stray tear falling down your cheek. she leans a little bit closer, her eyes flickering from yours to your lips before looking at you again.

“can i kiss you?” she asks quietly, like she's hesitating.

all you can do is nod, not trusting your voice to speak for you. megan leans forward more, stopping when her lips are nearly touching yours, before closing the gap between you two. when her lips touch yours, you can't help the small squeak-like noise that leaves your throat. her lips are softer than you thought they would be, and you can faintly taste mint mixed with smoke.

it turns messy quickly, with megan biting at your bottom lip and slipping her tongue in when you gasp and part your lips for her. one of her hands moves to hold your waist, and she tilts her head to the side, deepening the kiss. you let out a soft moan, and she feels her shorts tightening at the little noise.

she pulls away finally, and both of you are breathless. your lips are slightly swollen, parted a bit as you stare at her, not knowing what to do now. in a split-second decision, you grab her face with both hands and kiss her again with more force, not entirely knowing what you're doing. her eyes widen at the action, and she's immediately kissing back with the same intensity. her hands find your waist again, under your shirt, grazing your skin, making goosebumps rise on your body, a shiver running down your spine at her cold fingertips.

her hands start trailing up slowly, careful not to freak you out, before they reach your breasts. one hand instantly gropes you past your bra, thumb dragging across your nipple, making a quiet gasp come from you. her lips slide against yours messily as her hand continues to squeeze solely to hear the little noises you’re making.

suddenly, megan pulls back and looks at you, panting a little bit, pupils blown wide, lips swollen. she looked like she wanted to eat you alive, and it sent a wave of unfamiliar heat straight to your core.

“megan–” you can't get another word out before she picks you up and moves from the couch to her bed, lying you down on the sheets and crawling above you.

“you're beautiful,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing a light kiss on your jaw. then to your neck, leaving little kisses.

“megan,” you say, your voice shaking a little when her hands move back under your shirt. the anxiety starts creeping through your body when you realize where this could be going, and you panic a little. megan doesn't seem to notice the change in your voice until you speak again, when her hands start moving up again. “meg–w-wait!” you stumble out, grabbing her hands and stopping her.

megan instantly freezes like she's been snapped out of a daze. concern etches over her face as she pulls away and looks down at you. “are you okay?” she asks softly.

you nod, eyes averting from hers, looking down. “yeah. i-i just…” you pause, nervous to say it. “i-i’ve never–i’ve never done any of this before.” your voice is barely heard. “that was...” you can't even voice it properly, embarrassment surging through you now.

megan blinks, processing the words. it's quiet for a moment, and you start thinking you just screwed all this up when she gently holds your chin and tilts your head up to look at her, her eyes filled with something you couldn't pinpoint.

“i’m so sorry,” she says quietly. “i didn't know. i thought–i shouldn't have assumed,” she stops for a minute. “was that your first kiss?” she asks.

all you do is nod and swallow the lump in your throat.

“do you wanna redo it?”

you look at her with glossy eyes, not expecting her to say anything remotely close to that. you nod, “yeah. just…slower, please.”

megan nods, both hands cupping your face as she leans in and kisses you, a vast difference than the ones before your confession. her lips move more slowly, not rushing, like she's trying to remember how you feel. your eyes flutter closed, and you reciprocate after a second of hesitation. you feel your body relax, the anxiety slowly fading away, but still there just a tiny bit.

when megan pulls away, her thumb swipes at your bottom lip, quietly whispering, “how was that?”

you open your eyes, feeling your heart practically beating out of your chest as your gaze meets hers. “amazing,” you whisper back. “can we try it again…? and some more?”

“you sure?” megan asks, genuinely serious for once in her life which surprises you. she's rarely serious, but you know when she is, like now. “we can wait.”

“i want to,” you tell her. “i want you. i-i want you to be the first.”

something changes in megan’s expression. her eyes get a little softer, her lips parted slightly before she licks them and swallows thickly. she's nervous now, you can tell.

“i trust you, megan.”

those words seem to be enough to kick her into gear, nodding her head. “okay. you tell me if you wanna stop or if you're uncomfortable, ‘kay? i don't wanna hurt you,” she says, her voice soft. “that's the last thing i wanna do.”

your heart swells at her words, and you nod. “okay.”

“okay,” megan replies. “you wanna try another kiss?”

all you can do is nod, and megan is leaning down again, pressing her lips against yours. you sigh softly into the kiss, eyes closing again. she nips at your bottom lip, and a quiet whimper leaves you. megan smiles internally, wanting to hear more of those noises from you. her hands start sliding down again, much slower than last time. her hands are warm, which surprises you, but it also feels like your skin is on fire wherever her hands or fingers lie.

megan’s hands swoop under your shirt, fingers splaying across your ribs as she slowly goes back down, grabbing the hem. she parts from the kiss for a second, glancing down at you.

“can i take this off?” she asks softly.

“yes,” you breathe out, nodding.

you lift your arms, and megan slips the shirt off over your head. she looks down at you, and you sit up a little, reaching for the clasp of your bra, unclipping it, and letting it fall. megan’s breath hitches in her throat. her eyes turn a shade darker, like something hungry just washed over them. you don’t know if it’s good or bad, either. your hands subconsciously reach up to cover yourself, but megan is quick to grab your hands before you can.

“i want to see you,” she says, like she means it.

you nod, letting her move your hands and letting them rest at your sides.

“you’re perfect,” she whispers.

your face heats up at her words, trying not to combust at the mere thought of what she could do next. but, thankfully, you don’t have to wait and ponder for too long.

megan leans down again, but instead of moving to kiss you, she goes lower. she takes one of your nipples in her mouth and licks over it gently. a gasp escapes your mouth, and she giggles against you. she gently bites down, and you let out a shaky, hesitant moan, like you don’t know if you should be making these noises or not.

“let me hear you, mama,” megan murmurs against your skin. “nobody’s gonna hear.”

just her words alone have you letting out a whine, hips jerking slightly. you can feel your dampness seeping through your panties now, sticking to your skin in a rather embarrassing manner. you try not to think about that, though.

megan tries to contain herself, but she’s rock hard now, poking through her sweatpants she was wearing. she rolls her hips once and lets out a quiet moan, sucking on your nipple. your eyes snap open when you feel it.

“meg?” you whimper when she does that subtle but not-so-subtle roll of her hips again.

“hm?” megan finally pulls away from your sore breasts, peering down at you with hungry eyes. she follows your gaze down, and she says a quiet “oh,” like she forgot it was there. “have you ever…?” her voice trails off.

you shake your head, your face heating up in embarrassment again. but instead of laughing or making fun of you like you thought anyone would, megan leans down and presses a soft kiss on your lips.

“we’ll go slow, okay?” she says quietly. “you tell me if you wanna stop at any time, and i will.”

your heart swells at her words. you nod, and she smiles down at you. her hands slowly trail down lower until they stop at the waistband of your shorts, and she looks at you.

“can i take these off?” she asks.

you nod again, feeling your throat close up and not be able to form any words.

“lift your hips f’me,” she says, fingers curling around the waistband.

you do as she says, lifting your hips off the bed as she pulls your shorts and panties down your legs. you feel the cool air hit your exposed area, making a shiver run down your spine, and your legs try to close. but megan stops you, both hands landing on your legs to keep them open, her eyes peering down at you.

“don’t get shy on me now, baby,” she says, smiling at you.

“i just—i’ve never—”

“i know, baby,” megan cuts you off with her sweet voice. “that’s why we’re gonna go slow, okay? you got anywhere to be tomorrow?”

you briefly think before shaking your head. thankfully, it was the one day you didn’t have classes, maybe that’s why you came here tonight specifically. you don’t really know.

megan smiles. “good. i can really take my time with you, then.”

you’re not really sure what she means by that, but you’re not scared like you thought you would be.

megan slides down onto her stomach between your legs, head slotted between your thighs as her big eyes look up at you.

“i’m gonna use my tongue, okay? tell me if you want to stop,” she tells you.

you nod quickly. “okay,” you breathe out.

megan starts leaving little kisses on your thighs, trailing her way up to your entrance that’s dripping onto her sheets. she groans lowly, seeing it, bringing two fingers and collecting your slick on them. she then puts her fingers in her mouth and moans, her eyes fluttering shut. when she opens her eyes again, she grabs you by your thighs and pulls you closer to her face.

“gotta taste you now,” megan murmurs.

carefully, megan sticks her tongue out and licks a long strip up your cunt. you gasp sharply, hands clasping at the sheets underneath you for some kind of leverage. megan giggles against you and does another lick back down, smiling at the sound of you letting out a small, shaky moan. she flicks your clit with her tongue, and you let out an actual moan. your hand clamps over your mouth tightly to keep quiet, surprising yourself at the noise that left your mouth.

megan pulls away from you barely enough to talk. “don’t do that, lemme hear you.”

you slowly move your hand away from your mouth, and megan reaches up and takes it into hers. she intertwines your fingers and rests her arm on the bed. she then doesn’t say anything when she suddenly wraps her lips around your clit and sucks on it cautiously, making your back arch with a moan leaving your lips, and your hand squeezes hers.

“f-fuck!” your voice cracks.

megan starts going faster now, alternating between sucking on your clit and licking up and down your folds. after a few minutes of doing that, she decides to take it a step further. she brings her other hand up between your thighs, one finger circling your entrance. she looks up at you, waiting for you to say stop, but you just nod your head quickly.

“pl-please,” you whimper.

with your permission, megan slowly pushes her middle finger in, feeling you tighten and clamp around her. she sucks in a breath, her eyes looking away from your face down to your cunt that was greedily sucking her finger in deeper. she feels your body tense up, and she rubs small circles on your hand with her thumb that was holding yours. she waits for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling before she carefully starts moving.

“oh my g-god.”

you squeeze megan’s hand, and she does too, letting you know that she’s there, that she’s taking care of you. you open your eyes and look down at her, meeting her dark hungry eyes. she starts sucking on your clit again, and you moan loudly.

“faster, p-please megan,” you choke out, looking down at her still.

megan smiles against you and starts going faster with both her finger and her lips on your swollen clit. you throw your head back against the bed, a string of curses falling from your lips that has megan making you want to cum even more now. she carefully brings a second finger and slowly pushes it in, making you let out a scream-like moan and arch your back off the bed.

“so tight,” megan mumbles.

megan can barely think about anything other than you. you’re squeezing around her two fingers so tight she can barely thrust them inside you, moving slowly again so she doesn’t hurt you but speeds up the licking and sucking on your clit. you let out a whine, nails digging into her hand, but she doesn’t falter one bit. in fact, she is encouraged by it. she loves being the one to break you like this. she can only imagine what you’d feel like wrapped around her cock.

“oh my—fuck, megan!” you mewl, your other hand landing on her head and grabbing her hair.

megan moans into you when you tug on her hair, and that makes you moan even louder. without realizing, your hips start rolling against her face, desperate for more. you feel something tightening in your lower stomach, and you think you know what it is.

“meg—i-i think i’m gonna—” you’re cut off by a high-pitched moan leaving your mouth feeling her curl her fingers and hit even deeper inside you.

megan pulls away enough to respond to you. “go ahead, cum for me, baby. i got you.”

your breathing gets heavier, the feeling growing higher and higher and you’re about to crash over when she curls her fingers again and flicks your clit with her tongue. you let out a scream, your whole body shaking as your orgasm crashes down on you. you swear you see white for a second, and you’re almost worried you broke megan’s hand with how hard you squeezed that time.

but megan doesn’t seem bothered at all. she seems more turned on than anything. she slows her fingers to a stop and gently pulls them out of you. she licks them clean before climbing back up to meet your face. she brushes your hair out of your face and looks down at you.

“are you okay?” she asks softly.

you open your eyes and smile at her, still trying to catch your breath.

“yeah,” you answer. “that was amazing.”

“i’m glad.” megan smiles and leans down, capturing your lips in hers.

you whimper into the kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue as you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her in deeper. you can feel her bulge pressing against your thigh, and you pull out of the kiss.

“take it off,” you say breathlessly.

“what?” megan replies.

“your clothes,” you answer. “i want all of you.”

megan blinks like she didn’t expect you to say that, because she didn’t. she was expecting you to say you’re done after that, and she would have been more than okay with that. she would let you rest on the bed while she finished in the bathroom, and she wouldn’t mind one bit because she was the first one to make you feel that way.

megan nods, climbing off the bed quickly. she pulls her hoodie off over her head, wearing only a sports bra underneath, taking that off as well. she then tugs down her sweatpants and boxers, kicking them off her ankles. your eyes go wide when you see the size of her. she opens her bedstand drawer and pulls out a condom wrapper. she rips it open with her teeth and slides it over her cock. after, she crawls back onto the bed and settles herself between your legs again.

“you sure you want this?” megan asks you, eyes peering down at you.

you nod assuringly. “yes.”

“tell me if it’s hurting too much, okay?” she says, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“okay, i promise,” you reply.

megan reaches between you two, grabbing her cock and lining it up against you. she slowly starts pushing the thick head in, and you suck in a sharp breath. she instantly stops, resting her head on yours.

“it’s gonna hurt, baby,” she says quietly. “you still sure?”

“mhm,” you hum and nod quickly, not wanting to back out now. you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her down closer to you. “just go slow, please.”

“of course,” megan instantly responds.

she starts pushing in again, and you let out a whimper feeling her stretch you out. your eyes scrunch shut, and you bite down on your bottom lip harshly. it burns, is all you can think right now. she’s only gone two inches in, and you feel like she’s splitting you open. your nails dig into her shoulders as you try your best to breathe steadily.

“a little more, okay?” megan whispers. “or is this too much?”

you shake your head. “n-no, keep going.”

megan pushes a little further slowly, pressing little kisses on your head and cheeks.

“you’re doing great, baby,” she tells you. “just a little more.”

you just nod, not being able to respond with words at the moment. she keeps pushing and eventually stops, her pelvis flush against you. you let out a whimper, and megan looks down at you with concerned eyes.

“are you okay?” she asks.

“y-yeah.” you nod. “just give me a second.”

megan nods, pushing your hair out of your face. “take all the time you need.”

you can feel megan’s eyes on you, and you slowly open your own to meet hers. your breath catches in your throat. she's looking down at you with so much love and affection that it makes your heart skip a beat. you never thought you’d see her like this.

a few minutes pass, and you feel ready.

“you can move now,” you say quietly.

megan nods, kissing your head tenderly. she rests on her forearms now, hovering above you, peering down at you. she slowly starts moving her hips, carefully pulling out a little and then pushing back in. she sucks in a breath, feeling your walls clamp around her cock past the condom.

“is this okay?” megan asks.

you nod, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth again. it still hurts right now, you can’t lie. but the last thing you want to do is stop her when she’s already gone this far with you.

“hurts…” you mumble.

“i know, baby,” megan replies in a hushed voice. “i’ll keep going slow.”

you nod again, not being able to respond. megan leans down and kisses you, and you whimper as she moves again. you pull her down closer, hands tangling in her hair when you pull away suddenly, letting out a quiet moan at the first feeling of pleasure instead of pain.

“oh my god,” you whisper. “f-fuck—meg—”

“yeah?” megan says, her eyes scanning your face. “you want me to stop?”

you quickly shake your head. “no, no,” you gasp.

megan nods, continuing to slowly roll her hips into you, pressing deep inside you making you let out a little gasp every time she pushes back in. the pain is gone now thankfully, and all you can feel is how full of her you are. you can’t stop the noises that are quietly leaving your mouth, little moans and quiet gasps.

“you okay?” megan asks, still looking over you for any sign of wanting to stop.

“yes, god yes,” you immediately answer, already breathless. “don't stop.”

it's easier to move for megan now, your slick essence helping her roll her hips without worrying of hurting you anymore. she keeps it slow, however. until she hears you say you want more or to go faster, she's remaining steady at that pace.

“fuck, megan,” you whine, your eyes squeezing shut.

“yeah?” she responds, trying to keep her breathing regular.

“y-you feel so good,” you say through moans. “feels s-s’good.”

megan’s hips stutter at your words, a tiny moan escaping her lips, “fuck.” she falters for a second, pushing deeper inside you which has you moaning louder.

“you like it?” she asks, her breathing starting to get heavier.

you nod feverishly. “yes, yes—oh my god!” you writhe around under her, your hands grasping her nape and shoulder tightly. “keep going, please.”

megan nods the best she can, letting out little moans more frequently now. she can't help herself. you're so tight around her, and your words and reactions are only making her want to cum even faster, even if it's into the condom.

you feel that same knot building in the pit of your stomach again, and you blink your eyes open. you look up at megan, seeing strands of her hair sticking to her face from sweat, her eyes dilated and dark staring back down at you. you can see her lips parted, letting out soft moans that she's trying to contain.

“megan,” you gasp. “i-i’m gonna cum.”

megan’s eyes flicker across your face, meeting your gaze. “let go, baby. i got you. let go and cum, baby,” she tells you in a hushed voice. “i’m right here with you, i got you.”

you can't get any other words out, your walls tightening around her cock making megan choke out a moan, spilling her load into the condom. you cry out, your nails digging into her skin as your body shakes underneath her.

both of you are breathing heavily, and megan has stopped moving now. her head still rests on yours, both of your eyes closed trying to regain yourselves. your hands relax, and they loosely hang around her neck. you bring her down closer, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss.

when you pull away, megan opens her eyes and looks down at you. “hey,” she whispers.

“hey,” you respond in the same voice.

“you okay?” she asks.

you nod, smiling. “yeah, i’m okay.”

megan smiles back at you, knowing you're being truthful.

“i’m gonna clean you up, okay?” she says, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

you nod again. “okay.”

megan slowly pulls out of you, careful to not hurt you in any way. she stumbles off the bed a little bit, catching her balance at the last second. she slips the condom off her, tossing it in the little trash bin by her bed filled with water bottles. she heads to her bathroom, grabbing a warm wet towel and heads back out to you.

she sits back down on the bed next to your limp body, cleaning you up the best she could with the towel until you were able to walk and take a shower. when she finishes, she sets the rag on the floor and looks over at you. you're already looking at her.

“that was amazing,” you say quietly.

megan’s face and eyes softened. “really?”

you nod, grabbing her hand. “yeah.”

a smile grows on her face. “i’m glad it was good,” she replies.

“i’m happy it was you.”

megan’s heart skips a beat at your words. you say it so casually, but she knows you mean it more than anything else. that's why she feels her heart beat out of her chest like never before. it's also why she feels her throat close up and she struggles to get out words.

“megan?”

she shakes out of her thoughts, swallowing the lump in her throat. “sorry, i just–haven't really been someone's first before so.”

“oh,” you let out.

megan now wishes the world would fall apart under her so she can forget what she said.

“you did a good job,” you tell her.

she lets out a dry chuckle. “yeah?” she asks.

“yeah,” you confirm.

a silence fills the apartment now, one that left you both wondering what was going to happen next. you speak first.

“do you want me to go?”

megan’s eyes go wide, and she shakes her head.

“no, no, i don't want you to go anywhere,” she stammers before pausing. “i want you to stay the night, please.”

you smile softly and tug on her arm. “then come lay down with me. i’m tired,” you say.

megan immediately nods, grabbing the blanket and laying down beside you. she pulls the blanket over you both, and she rests her head on one of the two pillows she had. you look at her silently, not knowing what to do now.

“c’mere,” megan says softly, being able to tell your anxious.

you carefully move closer towards her, your body sore and already aching a little bit. your on your side as is she, and she wraps her arms around you, pulling you against her chest. your bodies are molding with each other, legs intertwined underneath the blanket. you tuck your head under her chin, resting it on her chest.

megan presses a soft kiss on your head, rubbing small circles on your back.

“get some sleep,” she says quietly. “i’ll be here when you wake up.”

“okay,” you mumble, eyes already closed feeling the exhaustion seep through your body.

and even if you’ve heard different things over the past few months of knowing megan, you believe her.

[miagamegirl]

do you really like me? — m. bannerman

‘touch me like that

please, nice and slow’

pairing — manon x reader

syn. — you’re unsure if manon truly likes you. she shows you exaclty how much she does.

warnings — scissoring, munch!manon, finger sucking (brief), overstim, cunnilingus, praise kink, dacryphilia, choking, bdsm (bondage specifically), abt 2k.

♫ — tonight by summer walker, terrified by childish gambino.

‘does someone need to be beat up?’

manon asked, her head tilted to the side. you’d been siting on the couch, watching a action movie she’d been wanting to see. you were unusually quiet, your hands fidgety instead of fixating on the bowl of popcorn your girlfriend had made earlier.

‘no manz, i just feel…weird.’

the visual paused the movie, moving the bowl as she turned fully to you. she took your hand, lifting it to your lips as she kissed it.

“talk to me, baby. why do you feel weird?”

you giggled, letting her scoot closer and kiss your neck.

“i don’t know; lately, with everything going on in your world and me being so busy with work, i haven’t been able to spend a lot of time with you. so i kinda started to wonder if….you even like me?”

manon pulled away from your neck, searching your face with bright eyes. you’d met her gaze, your hands still twitching. she grabbed them without looking, kissing both sets of knuckles.

“baby girl, i want you to listen to me me when i say this, ok?”

you nod, allowing her to continue.

“i love you. so much. like, i can’t even put into words, ok? nothing and nobody can change how i feel about you. if i had to burn the world down for you, all you’d have to do is give me the torch.”

you tilted your head at that last one, to which manon snorted.

“but seriously, don’t ever think that again. if you feel like this again, make sure to tell me. ok, my love?”

her words made your shoulders relax, your hands stand still. you nodded, and manon squeezed your hands, leaning in to kiss you. you grinned, returning the favor.

your breath hitched when she moved between your legs, a mischievous smirk on her face. manon circled your thighs with her fingers, stimulating you.

“we don’t have to if you’re not up for it, mama.”

you shook your head, guiding her hands to your pants waistband. together you removed your pants, leaving you in soaked panties and a shirt.

this action answered her question, manon climbing back up to take off your shirt.

she kissed you while doing so, sliding her knee between your legs. you gasped, your tits spilling out of your shirt. your nipples were hard and sensitive, manon looking up for your consent.

you whispered ‘go on’ lightly, a sigh leaving your lips when she attached herself to one of your nipples.

your hands landed in her curly hair, hips moving up and down on her knee. the pleasure was unimaginable, pure ecstasy flowing through you. she pressed her knee closer to your center, making you cry out.

“manz, baby, please.”

you practically begged her, your hips bucking wildly. manon removed herself form your nipple with a pop, shifting her bottoms and panties off.

she was just as wet as you, her arousal making you whine. the girl hooked a finger in your panties, pulling them off of you. her eyes widened at your slick heat, the sight causing a smirk to form on her face.

“m’ gonna make you feel so good, babygirl…”

manon positioned your two heats together, your slick mixing together. you gasped, grasping her hips.

manon’s hand gliding up your body, wrapping around your neck. she squeezed, making your hips speed up.

‘look at you, all fucked out and dripping for me. and we’ve barley started.’

manon cooed at you, a fake pout on her face. your mouth fell open, a silent moan escaping you as your girlfriend ground harder onto your clit. she was merciless, her hips moving swiftly as if she wanted you to orgasm as fast as possible.

your hips bucked up helplessly, your climax closing in. manon noticed, speeding up once more.

“you wanna cum, baby? all it took was me grinding on your pretty pussy…”

manon practically rasped, her voice getting lower and huskier than before. you could only respond with a high pitched moan, your body jerking as your climax reached its peak.

you looked up at manon for permission. she nodded, and your broke.

your juices covered you and your girlfriend’s thighs, dripping down your legs. your back arched off the surface, coming back down as your climax passed.

manon leaned down, unhooking your legs as she kissed you firmly. you whined, returning the favor as your tongue slid into her mouth.

“still hungry for more?”

she asked you, your pussy starting to get wet once more. you nodded, gazing at her eyes.

they were practically black, searching your exposed body. you tilted her head to your eyes, kissing her again.

“give me more, baby. please, give me more.”

the girl chuckled at how needy you sounded, the couch dipping slightly as she picked you up, taking you to her bedroom.

…

you were completely naked, tits perked and cold from the air. manon had put your hands above your head, bounding them together with her handcuffs.

you’d gotten so wet that your heat dripped on the sheets, manon’s eyes providing fake pity. she slid her hand between your thighs, running a finger up and down your pussy. she tsk’ed, kissing down your neck.

“poor baby, got so soaked just from me tying you up.”

you nodded, gasping when she left a large hickey on your sensitive spot. she took that same finger, collecting some of your wetness before bringing the finger to your lips.

you took it happily, tongue swirling around her finger like a lolly. she groaned, taking her finger out of your mouth. manon continued to kiss her way down your body, leaving a path of marks behind.

she finally faced your wet cunt, licking a strip between your folds. you let out a pleasured gasp, hands wiggling in your restraints.

she hummed at your reaction, letting her tongue dive into your pussy.

manon took her time, her mouth exploring every inch of your heat. your eyes closed, tears threatening as your heart beat out of your chest.

your hands clenched in their restraints, manon’s tongue beginning to swirl around your bud. you yelped out, hips bucking up.

she held them down, looking back up at your teary eyes. the state you were in fueled manon to go faster, giving your clit kitten licks as her thumbs brushed your thighs.

“all this whining from my mouth, baby? it’s adorable; and you’re taking me so well.”

manon’s words were mumbled but you still heard, nodding frantically as the girl beneath you continued.

it felt like too much, honestly. her tongue deep inside you, her thumbs rubbing your thighs, her dark eyes looking into yours; it drove you insane.

and manon, ever observant, noticed.

you felt another vibration as she hummed against your pussy, her hands fighting to keep your thighs apart as you flailed helplessly at squeezing them together. it was a sign of your next climax, and manon was ready.

she sped up even more, moving from sucking your clit to thrusting her tongue in and out of you. wet squelches filled the room, your eyes glazed over with a dirty look.

manon noticed your sights on the ceiling; and what she said almost made you double over in pleasure.

“c’mon baby, look at me while i eat your pussy. see how much i enjoy you?”

a high pitched moan left your lips, body shaking as twitching as your second climax neared. manon lifted your hips closer to her face, her tongue pushing deeper into you.

you cried out, hips bucking continuously while manon chased your orgasm as if it was her own. tears sprung from your eyes, falling with every thrust of your girlfriend’s tongue.

manon noticed, smiling lightly as she rubbed your clit with her finger, simultaneously making you fall apart. your mouth hung open in a silent moan, your climax at its peak.

manon mumbled ‘there’s my girl’ as you completely let go.

your juices spilled into manon’s mouth, back arching off the bed as you came hard. manon refused to stop, licking up your mess as she went from rubbing your clit to sucking it.

manon started pumping two delicate fingers in and out of your pussy, kissing your inner thigh anytime she could. it overwhelmed you, the sensation you were feeling. but, god, manon was not stopping.

‘baby, i already came….s-slow down’

you tried to get out, but your brain was more focused on pleasure than forming words. manon looked up, kissing your lower stomach before going back to your pussy.

she sucked harder this time, making you whine weakly.

‘i know you did; but i have to show you all the reasons i truly love you, no?’

and her statement allowed your head to fall back, your thoughts blank as your girlfriend continued to pleasure you through the night.

tags: @yourdecayedfaith, @sznmanon, @karzlikemars, @prioritizemypleasure, @g0matchi, @hereagain4u, @camdunez, @youngmatador, @racingghost, @herlondonboy, @foxyokie, @marvelwomenarehot0.

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

🏳️‍⚧️ happy prideeee monthhhh

you’re perfect however you are! 🏳️‍🌈

love you guys!

[sourmeiyok]

Bad Influence ──── (Lara Raj.)

syn older Lara teaches you a sinful lessons

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.

@roansverse @zeraaaat @meiyokstarr @eriesera @fruityg0rl @zzskullzz @highonheavens @babibasballs @xiiaann @h0llyy @ririelvq @spiderpunkmanon @danielasleftpinkytoe0471 @scarly07 @cazeeee @wtfisthisnoclueman @sieual @kpopluver167 @eliyrx @lexakomsimpkru @ktuffcentral @goofyglubsgoober @aoeiurgnmddk @yookster-yuki @postergirlll @urwavvy @linnnsworld @bootsnic @t4mmyl4f0rtez4 @byooungs @darthwwheeler @agyuu @s0ph14z @avanzinibananin1 @meiyokssdreams @meganswhxre @puppymei-anon @needmeganskiendiel @miagamegirl @mochi-nugs @justlurkingforyou @the-avid-reader3 @prioritizemypleasure [43/43]

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

Pay Off The Debt

Katsye ot5 x reader

summary: your dad likes to gamble a lot, a lot a lot, to the point where he gambles away all his money, and the only thing left, is his own daughter, and you being the bratty and resistant type aren’t gonna give them a easy time, so they’ll just have to make you.

triggers : smut , degradation , overstimulation, rough, spankings, beating, anal and oral, piss kink, mommy kink, daddy kink, choking, cursing, dirty talk, double pen, reader is 18, kinda no like consent or permission to stuff, some other stuff idk

prev - main - next

Chapter 2 - Not An Easy Time

you wake up, your head is pounding, you don’t know what happened but you know you aren’t in the limo anymore, now your in a bedroom.

it smells like lavender, clean soft bedsheets and blanket, a television on the wall in front of you, a closet on the left side, a chair sitting on the right, you see a full length mirror and go to stand in front of it.

as you stand you feel dizzy but after a couple of seconds you feel fine, you step in front of the mirror and see a bandaid on your right side of your head, but you don’t know how you got it,

that’s when the door handle turns and you quickly get back in the bed, the door opens and there you see lara and megan standing there, you scoot back on the bed more as they enter the room

megan whispers something to lara and they both chuckle still staring at you, lara slowly walks over and touches the bandaid causing you to wince, you look confused

“im guessing you don’t remember, well your bratty ass self decided to spit on sophia and lara slapped you and then your head hit the door and you blacked out” megan says as she walks and sits on the chair in the room.

“you know we never asked your name did we?.” megan asks.

“um.. y/n.”

lara grabs your chin to look at her

“well y/n, you see manon, daniela and sophia think the slap was enough of a punishment, but that’s not how me and megan roll, if we let you off with a little slap your gonna do some shit again.” lara says as she lets go of your chin and pushes you down on the bed so your laying down.

megan stands from the chair and walks over to the other side of the bed, she slowly takes off her skirt revealing her black underwear

you look for a second but quickly turn your head away, megan takes off her underwear and climbs on the bed with her legs open and her back resting against the pillows.

that’s when lara grabs you by your head and turns you on your stomach and makes your position so your right in front of megans wet glistening pussy.

lara then roughly pulls off your pants and underwear in one, you then hear her unbuckle her belt.

“since it seems like your not gonna give us an easy time we’re gonna give you your first lesson.” megan says grabbing your chin as her thumb runs across your bottom lip.

“your gonna learn how to please us despite of your circumstances, so your gonna lay here and lick megans pretty pussy while I beat you.. do you understand.?” lara says while she folds the belt in half.

you try to sit up but megan holds you down by your shoulders.

“w..wait you guys don’t have to do t-“

that’s when the first strike lands on your ass, and you cry out.

“suck.” megan says pushing your head to her pussy.

you dont want to so you try and pull your head away, that’s when two more hits land on your ass.

“now y/n.” lara says raising the belt again.

you don’t have a choice so you stick your tounge out and lick a line up in between megans folds, it taste salty, a very small part of you seem to enjoy it, but your quickly shake it away.

“this is wrong i have to get out of here.” you think in your head

that’s when another strike lands on your ass, you continue sucking and licking but the continuous strikes are painful and tears well up in your eyes

“aww are you gonna cry..?” megan says looking down into your eyes.

lara strikes you again and a tear falls from your eye, lara beats you until you finally make megan cum

lara puts her belt back on and megan puts her underwear and skirt on and then they both leave the room without another word.

you sit there tears running down your face and your ass sore, you lay there for some minutes crying and after awhile you finally get up and put your underwear and pants back on. you then lay under the blankets and cry before you finally fall asleep

prev - main - next

i hope yall like sorry it took so long and like if yall have tips or something to help me with my writing please give them, and it’s also not proofread cause I don’t like to read what I write for some reason, and I think that’s all

oki bye

- Taglist -

@vivinquisha @mxzziexp @sarahsonya78 @aoeiurgnmddk @manog0zii @scissorcity-stan @meganseyekon @shiho0pirate

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

hi if u don’t mind but can i be in the taglist if u have for ur new series?

yes ofcc

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

Pay Off The Debt

Katseye ot5 x reader

summary: your dad likes to gamble a lot, a lot a lot, to the point where he gambles away all his money, and the only thing left, is his own daughter, and you being the bratty and resistant type aren’t gonna give them a easy time, so they’ll just have to make you.

triggers : smut , degradation , overstimulation, rough, spankings, beating, anal and oral, piss kink, mommy kink, daddy kink, choking, cursing, dirty talk, double pen, reader is 18, some other stuff idk

main - next

Chapter 1 - Sold

your scrolling on you phone around 12am, your dad isn’t home yet but you don’t worry, you know he probably out gambling.

that’s when you here the door open, panicked footsteps running up to your room, you dad swings your bedroom door open.

“p..pack your bags..” he says, breathing hard with a panicked expression on his face

“why what’s going on?” you say sitting up in bed.

“w..we’re..just…going on a vacation honey…you…you need to pack quick.” he says as he goes to your drawers and starts dumping clothes out

“dad what’s wrong with you!?” you say jumping up and trying to put the clothes back.

that’s when you hear pounding on the door, your dad runs downstairs and opens it, you hear him pleading saying things like “we can figure this out” or “she’s all I have”

you slowly walk down the stairs and that’s when you see five girls standing there, they look like they have a lot of money and are very important people , next to them are bodyguards.

“dad what’s going on..?”

your dad turns to look at you, “I’m so..so sorry sweetie..”

you look at him with confusion on your face, “what did you do..? dad what did you do!”

that’s when one of the girls speaks up, “awh looks like your daddy didn’t tell you yet, let’s just say…he gambled to much and now you belong to us.”

you sit there confused trying to process

“your dad sold you to us shitface.” another one of the girls say.

your dad looks down at his feet not able to look at you anymore, one of the girls tells him to go pack your bag, he quickly runs up the stairs past you to your room and you hear him packing.

“this had to be some sick joke.” you say.

“does it look like we’re the type to make jokes sweetie?” one of the other girls say, her voice is soft but intimidating

“im not going with you guys, you can’t make me.”

one of the girls chuckle, “you think you have a choice?”

that’s when one snaps there fingers towards the body guard and he starts walking towards you.

you back away and he grabs your wrist, you try to fight and pulls away, your father comes back downstairs with the bag snd hands it to the other bodyguard

“dad don’t let them take me!!..dad!!” you try to fight kick scream everything but it’s no use.

they start walking out the door to a limo, they guard carries you and you continue to trash and panick, you look back at your dad who slowly closes the front door.

the gaurd throws you in the car next to one of the girls, he slams the door and walks around to the drivers seat while the other guard sits in the passenger seat.

you try to open the door but it’s locked, one of the girls grabs your chin and turns your head to her,

“your not going anywhere don’t even try.”

another girl on the other side says “you belong to us now there’s nowhere to run, im daniela by the way”

she points to the other girls and say their names, “lara, sophia, manon, and megan.”

sophia says “you can listen to us and behave and we’ll be nice, but act a fool and you’ll be really scared.”

you spit at sophia and before you even know it a hand connects with your face and you black out.

main - next

my first series and not proofread so um yeah I’ll try to do new chapter every like 2 days

oki bye

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 (or more) people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out <3

wowww tysmm!! I love ur work btw!

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

Pay Off the Debt

katseye ot5 x reader

summary : your dad likes to gamble a lot, a lot a lot, to the point where he gambles away all his money, and the only thing left, is his own daughter, and you being the bratty and resistant type aren’t gonna give them a easy time, so they’ll just have to make you.

triggers : smut , degradation , overstimulation, rough, spankings, beating, anal and oral, piss kink, mommy kink, daddy kink, choking, cursing, dirty talk, double pen, some other stuff idk

Chapters :

sold

not an easy time (NSFW)

escape

group text messages/1

discipline (NSFW)

fine, I’ll behave (NSFW)

get comfortable (NSFW)

friendship?

group text messages/2

let’s go shopping (NSFW)

movie night (NSFW)

group text messages/3

insomia

jealous much (NSFW)

birthday (NSFW)

i can get used to this

my first series so like bear with me, I hope I do good, if there any changes I should make tell me

and no yoonchae sorry guys to much smut

oki bye

[girldates]

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

my two favorites colliding

[saezaaa-deactivated20260707]

# sweetly

manon x fem!reader

summary. just read it

content. smut, manon mean and sweet at the same time, use of vibrator, dirty talk, overstimulation, orgasm denial

"You're being so good for me, babe," Manon says sweetly in your ear, her hand pressing her vibrator firmly against your sensitive clit. "You know that? So, so good."

You've been like this for an hour. Feeling the pleasure building in your belly, that knot tightening, your thighs starting to tremble when you're about to... and then she pulls it away.

"Manon, please…"

You feel it again, getting closer, your mouth opening in a silent moan as your back starts to arch — and again, she moves it away.

The whine that escapes you is so pathetic it's almost embarrassing. You bury your face in her neck, and the tears start to fall.

"I know, babe," Manon whispers, her free hand going up to your hair, stroking it. "I know it's a lot. But you can handle it for me, can't you?"

You open your mouth to protest, but then she presses the vibrator back against your center.

The words die in your throat, replaced by a sharp moan.

"That's my good girl," Manon says with a proud smile. "Taking it all so well."

This time, she doesn't pull the vibrator away.

She leaves it there, firm, and the orgasm hits you like a train. You feel it finally unleash. Your fingers dig into her shoulder so hard you know they'll leave bruises.

But Manon doesn't stop.

"That's it," she says, her voice still sweet, as if she weren't destroying you. "Look at the mess you're making."

Manon leaves the vibrator there with the same intensity. You squirm beneath her. You try to close your legs, but she keeps them open with her hip. You try to push her hand away, but she won't let you.

"Manon... I can't anymore..." you moan, your voice a pathetic whimper.

"I know it's a lot," Manon whispers against your ear, and her voice is so sweet it hurts. "But you're being so good, babe. So good for me."

You shake your head back and forth.

"One more," she says. "Just one more, babe. Can you give me one more?"

You shake your head again, but it doesn't matter. The vibrator doesn't move.

The orgasm comes again, faster than the last, but just as devastating. Your body shakes in spasms you can't control. For a moment, your vision goes completely blurry, and your body gives in.

Then Manon turns off the vibrator.

She kisses your forehead softly. "See?" she whispers against your skin. "I knew you could, princess."

saeza notes. So… yeah I wrote this earlier and I think I'm ovulating

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

For the fic that wins what yall want

Series

Part 1 and Part 2

Oneshot (or whatever it’s called idk bruh)

Voting ended onMay 20

if u don’t know what im talking about look at the pinned poll on my profile 😛

oki bye

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

What should I write next?

dom!sophia x sub !reader - smut

dom!manon x sub!megan - smut

ot6 + sub!reader - fluff

ot5 x sub!reader - crazy smut

yoonchae x dom!reader - fluff

Voting ended onMay 22

[katssmi]

Non-Negotiable꧂

pairing » g!p sophia laforteza x fem!reader

part 2 » Negotiated

synopsis » it started with a contract. you had nine months until the wedding—nine months to be a loud, spoiled nightmare and scare Sophia away before the "I do's" became permanent. you bit, you screamed, and you threw every tantrum in the book, but nothing worked. Sophia just watched with a calm, terrifying patience, counting down the days until the ring was on your finger.

a/n » I knowww I said I would write a manon story buttt im having a hard time coming up with a plot and need to do research. sooo I wrote a Sophia fic instead! :3 also I literally flipped a coin whether I should make this a g!p or not so soz guys the coin has spoken :( Idk if this is shit or not so sorry in advance!

genre » kinda angst? smut ( ayyy smut debut) , reader is a brat Sophia is brat tamer, kinda toxic??? breeding kink.

wc » 9.1k

Your phone had been buzzing in your pocket for the last hour, photos of your friends in Turks and Caicos, it's another shot of crystal blue water and white sand. You should have been there with them. But of course, you were standing in front of the hallway mirror, adjusting your dress,  trying to look like you weren't completely miserable and feeling the sense of FOMO.

Usually, your parents were more than happy to ship you off to another country for the holidays just to get you out of their hair. But this year, for some reason, they weren't having it. You hadn’t been forced to sit through one of these "annual" Christmas dinners since you were a teenager, and honestly, you still hated them just as much now as you did then.

"Is that a scowl?" your mom asked, walking past you to check the table settings. "Fix your face. Our friends will be here any minute, and they’re really looking forward to seeing you."

You sighed, shoving your phone back into your pocket. You’d tried every excuse in the book to get out of this, but your parents had been dead serious: no beach, no vacation, and absolutely no missing this dinner. They kept insisting it was "important," but as far as you were concerned, it was just another night of boring small talk.

A heavy knock sounded at the front door.

"They’re here!" your dad called out from the kitchen, sounding way too excited. "Can someone get that?"

You trudged to the front door, mentally preparing your most annoyed expression. If you had to be here, you were at least going to make sure everyone knew you were miserable.

You swung the door open, ready to give a half-hearted "hi" and retreat to the kitchen, but the words caught in your throat.

Standing on the porch was a woman who looked like she had stepped straight out of a high-fashion editorial. She was elegant, perfectly poised, and unlike you she looked like she actually wanted to be there. This had to be Sophia.

The moment your eyes met, Sophia froze. For a split second, the polite smile on her face faltered, replaced by a look of pure, raw shock. Her eyes searched your face with an intensity that made your skin crawl, tracing your features as if she were seeing a ghost.

"Sophia, honey? Are you alright?" her mother asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Sophia blinked, her composure snapping back into place so fast you almost thought you’d imagined the glitch. A soft, sweet smile spread across her lips a smile that looked far too kind for someone as wealthy as she clearly was.

"I’m fine," she murmured, her voice like silk. She stepped into the foyer, her eyes never really leaving yours. "It’s just... it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much."

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall with a huff. "Wish I could say the same. I was supposed to be in Turks and Caicos right now, but apparently, this dinner is more important than my tan."

"Your parents mentioned you were disappointed," Sophia said, her tone sounding genuinely apologetic, though there was a strange glint in her eyes. "I’ll have to make it up to you, then. I'd hate for our first night together to be a total loss."

Your mom laughed nervously, giving you a sharp don't-be-a-brat look. "She's just being dramatic, Sophia. Please, come in! Let's get some wine."

As everyone moved toward the dining room, Sophia lingered back for a second. She leaned in a little closer to you, the scent of expensive perfume hitting you like a wave.

"You're much more beautiful than the photos," she whispered, her voice dropping an octave. "In fact... you're exactly what I've been looking for."

Before you could snap back with a sarcastic comment, she was already walking away, following the parents. You watched her go, feeling a weird prickle of unease. She seemed so nice, like almost too nice, but something about the way she looked at you felt less like a greeting and more like a claim.

The dining room was suffocating. The scent of roasted turkey and expensive candles filled the air, but all you could focus on was how Sophia was watching you from across the table. Every time you looked up from your plate, she was already there, her gaze fixed on you with an intensity that felt like she was trying to memorize your face.

It was creepy, but also... confusing. She was being so nice.

"So, Y/N," Sophia’s father said, leaning forward. "Your parents tell me you’ve been doing well. It’s a shame about the Turks and Caicos trip, but some things are just more important than a beach."

You poked at a brussels sprout with your fork, not looking up. "I guess. If you think sitting in a stuffy room listening to people talk about the stock market is more important than white sand and zero responsibilities, then sure." 

"Y/N!" your mom hissed, her face flushing red. She gave a forced, trembling smile to Sophia’s parents. "I am so sorry. She's been in a mood all day."

"It’s alright," Sophia said softly. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against your hand for just a second. The contact felt electric and oddly possessive. "I think it's charismatic. Honesty is such a rare quality these days, don't you think?"

Your mom laughed, though it sounded breathless. She cleared her throat and exchanged a look with your dad, and then clinked her spoon against her wine glass.

"Actually," your mom started, her eyes shining with a weird, triumphant light. "That’s part of why we wanted everyone together tonight. We’ve been talking with Sophia’s parents for months about how to best secure the future of both our families. And we’ve come to a decision."

You stopped mid-chew, a bad feeling starting to settle in your stomach.

"Since you’re both of age, and since the chemistry is clearly already there," your mom continued, gesturing between you and Sophia, "We’ve decided to move forward with a formal arrangement. Y/N, Sophia... you two are going to be married by the end of next year."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Your fork clattered against the porcelain plate with a loud clack. "I’m sorry, what?" you snapped, finally looking up. "Married? Is this a joke? It’s 2025, not the Middle Ages. You can't just... assign me a wife."

"Y/N, watch your tone," your father warned, his voice low and dangerous.

You stood up, your chair screeching against the hardwood floor. "No! I’m not doing this. I don't even know her! I haven't seen her in over ten years, and now you want me to spend the rest of my life with her?" You yelled incredulously.

You looked over at Sophia, expecting her to be just as outraged, or at least embarrassed. But she wasn't. She was sitting perfectly still, a calm, serene smile on her face. She looked like she had just been told she won the lottery.

"I know it's a lot to take in," Sophia said, her voice steady and terrifyingly sweet. She stood up too, walking around the table until she was standing right in front of you. She took your hands in hers, ignoring the way you tried to pull away. "But I promise, Y/N... I’m going to take such good care of you. We’re going to be so happy together, I promise."

As she leaned in to kiss your cheek, she whispered into your ear—too low for the parents to hear.

"Don't fight it, darling. You were always meant to be mine."

You didn't wait for a response. You pushed back from the table so hard your wine glass nearly tipped over and bolted for the stairs. You could hear your mom’s sharp voice calling your name, sounding humiliated, but you didn't care.

You slammed your bedroom door shut and locked it, pacing the floor. "This is insane," you muttered, grabbing a pillow from your bed and throwing it at the wall. "This is actually insane!" You screamed.

You were a brat—you knew that. You liked your designer bags, your solo trips, and your freedom. You weren't some prize to be traded off to a family friend just because the businesses lined up.

A soft, rhythmic knock sounded at the door.

"Go away, Mom!" you yelled. "I’m not coming back down!"

"It’s not your mother, Y/N."

Sophia’s voice was muffled by the wood, but it sounded calm. Way too calm.

You groaned, stomping over to the door and swinging it open. You were ready to scream, ready to tell her exactly where she could shove this "arrangement."

"Look, I don't care how much money your family has—"

You stopped. Sophia was leaning against the doorframe, her coat off, the silk of her blouse catching the light. She wasn't looking at you with the polite, distant smile she had at the table. She was looking at you with something that felt like hunger.

"You have your mother's temper," Sophia said softly, stepping into your room without being invited. She didn't wait for you to move; she just walked past you, her eyes scanning your space, your photos, your bed. "I find it... intoxicating."

"Get the fuck out of my room," you snapped, crossing your arms. "I’m not marrying you. I don't care what our parents signed. I’ll make your life a living hell. I’m a nightmare to live with, ask anyone."

Sophia turned around, a small, chillingly sweet smile playing on her lips. She walked toward you, and for some reason, your feet felt glued to the floor. She stopped just inches away, her hand coming up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Her touch was cold, but her eyes were burning.

"I like nightmares, darling," she whispered. She tilted her head, her gaze wandering over your face with that same haunting intensity from the front door. "You look so much like her when you're angry. The same spark in your eyes. The same way your lip curls."

"Like... who?" you asked, your voice wavering despite your best efforts to stay tough.

Sophia didn't answer. Instead, she leaned in, her breath ghosting over your skin. "It doesn't matter. She’s gone. But you? You’re right here. And you’re going to be so much better than she ever was."

She reached down, taking your hand and squeezing it, not a gentle hold, but a firm, crushing grip that made it clear she wasn't letting go.

"Cry, scream, throw your fits," Sophia murmured, her voice dropping to a dark, honeyed tone. "Be as toxic as you want to be, Y/N. I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. The clothes, the trips, the life of luxury...and all I ask in return is that you belong to me. Completely."

She leaned in and kissed your forehead, a gesture that should have been sweet but felt like a brand.

"See you at breakfast, fiancé."

She turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open. You stood there, heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to stay mad, you wanted to keep being the brat who got her way, but for the first time in your life, you felt like you were the one being played.

You didn’t sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt that weird, possessive weight of Sophia’s gaze. You spent the night scrolling through your friends' Instagram stories, bikinis, shots of tequila, and laughter. It felt like a different lifetime.

The next morning, you purposefully took your time. You dressed in your loudest, most expensive outfit, a "fuck you" to the family dinner vibe and headed downstairs two hours late.

The dining room was quiet, except for the clinking of silver against porcelain. Your parents were already gone, likely at the golf course with Sophia’s father, leaving just you and her.

Sophia was sitting at the head of the table, looking impossibly fresh in a cream-colored silk dress. She was reading a physical newspaper, a cup of black coffee steaming beside her. She didn't look up when you slumped into the chair opposite her.

"You're late," she said, her voice smooth and devoid of any morning grogginess.

"I didn't realize I was on a schedule," you snapped, grabbing a croissant and tearing it apart with more force than necessary. "I figured since I'm being sold off like a piece of property, I could at least sleep in."

Sophia lowered the paper. Her eyes weren't cold; they were warm, almost fond, which annoyed you even more. "Eat your breakfast, Y/N. We have a busy day. We’re looking at venues this afternoon."

"I’m not looking at venues. I'm going to the mall. I need a new bag to compensate for the fact that my life is over."

"I already had the mall brought to us," Sophia said casually, gesturing toward the living room where several large, familiar designer boxes were stacked. "And I’ve already narrowed the venues down to three private estates. You just have to pick the one with the best security."

You paused, a piece of croissant halfway to your mouth. "Security? For what? To keep the paparazzi out?"

"To keep you in," Sophia whispered, her smile not reaching her eyes.

She stood up and walked around the table, leaning over your chair from behind. She didn't touch you, but you could feel the heat radiating off her.

"You’re a flight risk, darling. I know you’re thinking about how to get out of this. But the sooner you realize that every exit is already blocked, the easier this will be for both of us."

She reached out and slid a small, silver pill case across the table toward you.

"Take your vitamins. We wouldn't want you catching a cold before the big day. You need to be in peak condition for our wedding night."

You stared at the little silver box. "What is this? I don't take pills from strangers."

"I'm not a stranger," she murmured, her hand finally coming down to rest on your shoulder, her grip firm and unyielding. "I'm your future. Now, be a good girl and take them. Don't make me have to call your father and tell him you're being... difficult again."

You glared at her, your jaw tight. You hated how she used your father’s temper against you. With a sharp exhale, you snatched a pill out and swallowed it dry, making sure she saw the look of pure loathing on your face.

"Happy?" you spat.

Sophia’s expression shifted. For a second, that "sweet" mask slipped, and you saw a flash of the obsession underneath a look of triumph. She leaned down and kissed your cheek, right where she had the night before.

"Very. Now, let’s go look at your new cage."She said jokingly.

The venue was a sprawling, centuries-old estate hidden behind massive iron gates and a forest of pine trees. It looked more like a fortress than a wedding location. Your parents had stayed behind, leaving you in a luxury SUV with Sophia and a driver who looked like he’d been trained by the secret service.

"It’s hideous," you said the moment you stepped out onto the gravel path. You weren't even looking at the stunning stone arches or the view of the valley. "It smells like old people and taxes. I hate it."

Sophia stepped out beside you, looking effortless in a long wool coat. She didn't even blink at your comment. "The ballroom has been renovated with floor-to-ceiling glass, Y/N. You’ll have a perfect view of the moon while we dance."

"I don't want to dance with you. I want to be at a club in Ibiza," you snapped, purposely dragging your expensive boots through a patch of mud. You looked at the wedding coordinator, a nervous man in a suit who was waiting for you. "Is there a bar? I’m going to need to be blacked out to get through this ceremony."

The coordinator paled, looking toward Sophia for help.

Sophia simply smiled, that calm, chillingly patient smile. "She’s just excited," Sophia told him, though her eyes were locked on you. "The bar will be open, of course. But only for the guests. My wife won't be needing any distractions on our night."

My wife. The words made your stomach flip in a way you hated.

As you walked through the grand halls, you did everything you could to be a nightmare. You complained about the lighting, you told the florist their ideas were "cheap," and you even "accidentally" knocked a crystal vase off a side table.

You expected Sophia to snap. You wanted her to lose her cool so you could point at her and tell your parents she was crazy.

Instead, every time you did something bratty, Sophia just watched you with a look of pure fascination. When the vase shattered, she didn't scold you; she just signaled for a servant to clean it up and stepped closer to you.

"You’re so spirited today," she whispered, catching your arm as you tried to walk past her. Her grip was like velvet-covered steel. "Most girls would be intimidated by a place like this. But you... you just want to tear it down, don't you?"

"I want to tear this down," you said, gesturing to the engagement ring on your finger. "I'm not a doll, Sophia. You can't just buy a big house and put me in it."

"I know you aren't a doll," Sophia murmured. She pulled you into a small, shadowed alcove away from the coordinator’s view. She pressed you back against the cold stone wall, her body hovering just inches from yours. "Dolls don't have that delicious fire in their eyes. Dolls don't make me want to stay up all night wondering what it’s going to take to make them scream my name."

You felt your face heat up, a mix of anger and a sudden, traitorous spark of tension. "You're disgusting."

"I'm devoted," she corrected, her voice dropping to a low, husky register. She reached into her pocket and pulled out that same silver pill case. "It's time for your afternoon dose. Open up."

"No. I'm not doing this here," you hissed, turning your head away.

Sophia’s hand came up, her fingers firm on your chin, forcing you to look at her. The "sweet" mask was gone, replaced by the raw, obsessive hunger that Sophia usually kept hidden.

"Don't be difficult in front of the staff, darling. It’s embarrassing for you," she said softly. "Be a good girl and take your vitamins, or I’ll have to tell the driver to lock the child-locks on the way home. And we both know how much you hate being trapped."

You glared at her, your chest heaving. You were a brat, but Sophia was a predator. You knew she wasn't bluffing. With a shaky hand, you took the pill from her palm and swallowed it, your eyes never leaving hers.

"Good girl," she whispered, smoothing your hair back. "See? I knew this venue was perfect. The walls are thick enough that no one will hear a thing on our wedding night."

A couple of weeks later the two of you went wedding dress shopping. The boutique was closed specifically for the two of you. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and racks of white silk and lace stood like ghosts against the walls. You sat on a velvet ottoman, scrolling through your phone and pointedly ignoring the flutes of champagne the staff kept trying to hand you.

"I’m not wearing lace," you snapped as the head stylist brought out a stunning, traditional gown. "I’d look like a doily. And the sleeves are itchy. Take it back."

Sophia sat in a plush armchair across from you, looking like a queen on a throne. She hadn't said a word, just watched you reject five different dresses with a faint, amused smile.

"This one, then?" the stylist asked, voice trembling as she held up a sleek, modern satin piece.

"Too plain," you huffed. "It looks like a nightgown. Do you even have anything that doesn't look like a funeral for my freedom? Actually, don't bother. I'll just wear black. It’s more appropriate for the occasion."

"Try the one in the back, Elena," Sophia said suddenly, her voice cutting through your complaining. She wasn't looking at the stylist; she was looking at you. "The one with the silk corset and the cathedral train. The 'Ghost' collection."

You rolled your eyes. "I’m sure I’ll hate it."

But when the stylists finally laced you into it behind the curtain, the complaining died in your throat. You stood in front of the private mirror, and for the first time in months, you didn't see the "forced fiancé." You saw yourself.

The dress was exquisite—it hugged your curves perfectly, the silk felt like water against your skin, and the structured bodice made you look powerful, almost dangerous. You looked... beautiful. Truly, devastatingly beautiful.

For ten seconds, you just stared. You leaned closer to the mirror, touching the delicate fabric of the skirt, a tiny, genuine smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Are you ready, darling?" Sophia’s voice came from the other side of the curtain.

The sound of her voice snapped you back to reality. You immediately wiped the smile off your face and replaced it with your best scowl. You stepped out onto the pedestal, your heels clicking, and let out a dramatic, annoyed sigh.

"It’s... fine, I guess," you said, crossing your arms and looking everywhere but at Sophia. "The skirt is too heavy. I'm going to trip and look like an idiot. And the white is too bright. It’s giving me a headache."

You waited for her to suggest another one. You waited for her to agree that it wasn't right.

Instead, Sophia stood up slowly. She walked toward the pedestal, her eyes dark and fixated on you. She didn't look at the dress as a garment; she looked at it as wrapping paper.

"You're a terrible liar, Y/N," Sophia whispered, stepping onto the pedestal with you. She reached out, her hand hovering just an inch from the silk covering your waist. "I saw your face through the gap in the curtain. You love it."

"I do not," you lied, your heart starting to race. "I hate it. It's too much."

"It’s perfect," Sophia murmured. She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear, making you shiver in the cold boutique air. "You look like a goddess. My goddess. And the way you looked at yourself in that mirror... that’s the same way you’re going to look at me once you realize I’ve given you everything you could ever want."

She reached into her clutch and pulled out the silver pill case. It was time for the "vitamins" again.

"Take it," she whispered. "Take it, and we’ll buy the dress. We’ll buy the whole store if it keeps that look in your eyes for just a moment longer."

You felt caught. You hated that she knew. You swallowed the pill, glaring at her reflection in the mirror. "I still hate you," you muttered.

"I know," Sophia smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, her lips lingering on your skin. "But you look so beautiful in my clothes, Y/N. I can't wait to see you walk down the aisle toward your new life. Toward me."

The day before the wedding, the house was buzzing with decorators and caterers, but your bedroom was a tomb. Tomorrow was the day. The "business arrangement" was becoming a legal reality, and for the first time, your bravado was failing you.

You sat on your bed, frantically typing into your phone.

Y/N: Guys, please. Just come get me. I don’t care about the car or the bags. I’ll pay you back. Just get me out of here tonight.

You watched the little bubbles bounce as your best friend typed back.

Lara: Y/N, we can't! Your dad called my parents and said if we helped you 'act out' again, he’d cut off my tuition. Besides, Sophia sent us all those VIP passes for the Maldives next month as a 'thank you' for being your bridesmaids... she seems so sweet! You’re just stressed!

You stared at the screen, a cold lump forming in your throat. Sophia had bought them. She had systematically cut off every single person you could turn to with jewelry, trips, and subtle threats. You were completely alone.

The door opened without a knock.

"I told you to stay out!" you yelled, throwing your phone face-down on the duvet.

Sophia walked in, wearing a dark silk slip dress that looked like liquid shadow. She wasn't carrying the pill case this time. Instead, she had two glasses of vintage champagne.

"Still trying to rally the troops?" Sophia asked, her voice light and teasing. She sat on the edge of your bed, offering you a glass. "Don't bother, darling. They’re already dreaming of the Maldives. They’ve moved on. You should, too."

"You're a monster," you whispered, your voice cracking. You didn't take the glass. "You bought my friends. You bought my parents. Do you even care that I hate you?"

Sophia set the glasses down on the nightstand and leaned over you, pinning you to the pillows with her weight. She didn't use force, but the sheer presence of her was overwhelming.

"I don't need you to love me tonight, Y/N," she murmured, her fingers tracing the lace of your camisole. "I just need you to belong to me. And tomorrow, at this time, you will. Legally. Physically. In every way that matters."

"I'm not going to let you touch me," you snapped, trying to regain your bratty edge. "I’ll lock the door. I’ll—"

"You'll do exactly what I tell you," Sophia interrupted, her voice dropping to that dark, possessive tone that always made your heart race. She reached into her silk pocket and pulled out a single, different pill. Not the usual vitamin. "Because if you don't... I might have to tell your father about that 'little accident' you had with the family car last summer. The one he thinks the gardener did?"

You froze. She knew about that?

"I have eyes everywhere, my love," Sophia whispered, pressing the pill against your lips. "Now, take this. It’s a sedative. I want you to get a full eight hours of beauty sleep. I want you glowing when you walk down that aisle."

You looked at the pill, then at her dark, hungry eyes. You realized then that being a brat only worked on people who cared about your feelings. Sophia didn't care about your feelings, she cared about your presence.

With a trembling hand, you took the pill. You swallowed it, feeling the first wave of true defeat.

"Good girl," Sophia whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. This time, she didn't leave immediately. She stayed, stroking your hair until your eyes grew heavy and the world started to blur.

As you drifted off, the last thing you heard was her voice, sounding far away but terrifyingly close.

"Sleep well, Y/N. Tomorrow, the games end... and the real work begins."

The bridal suite felt like a luxurious prison cell. The dress you had secretly loved now felt like lead, the heavy silk dragging behind you like a shimmering tail. Every time you moved, the rustle of the fabric reminded you that there was no running away—not in these heels, and certainly not with the two "security guards" Sophia had stationed at the door under the guise of "protecting the bride’s privacy."

A knock sounded, and your mother slipped inside. She looked radiant, her eyes wet with tears that made you want to scream, cry, and throw up.

"You look breathtaking, Y/N," she whispered, adjusting your veil. "I know you were difficult about this at first, but look at you. You’re marrying into the most powerful family in the country. You’ll never want for anything again."

"I want to go home," you said, your voice small, the bratty fire finally extinguished by the sheer reality of the clock ticking. "Mom, please. Tell them I'm sick. Tell them I changed my mind."

Your mother’s face hardened instantly. The warmth vanished. "Don't you dare start this now. The contracts are signed. The guests are waiting. You are going to walk out there, you are going to smile, and you are going to be the wife Sophia deserves. Do you understand me?" She said venomously.

She didn't wait for an answer. She handed you your bouquet—white lilies, the scent so strong it made you dizzy and then led you toward the grand doors of the ballroom.

The music started—a deep, haunting cello melody that felt more like a march than a celebration. The massive double doors swung open, and the breath left your lungs.

Hundreds of people stood up, their faces a blur of expensive jewelry and forced smiles. But your eyes went straight to the end of the aisle.

Sophia was standing there.

She looked devastating. Dressed in a sharp, tailored white suit that mimicked the elegance of your dress, she looked like the perfect, modern bride. But as you got closer, you saw the truth in her expression. She wasn't looking at your dress. She wasn't looking at your hair.

She was looking at you with the gaze of a collector who had finally tracked down a missing masterpiece.

As you reached the altar, your legs felt like they were made of water. Your father handed your hand to Sophia. Her skin was cool, her grip firm and possessive. She leaned in as the priest began to speak, her voice a mere ghost of a whisper against the music.

"You're trembling, darling," she murmured, her thumb stroking the back of your hand in a way that felt like a shackle. "Don't be scared. The hard part is almost over."

You looked up at her, your eyes stinging. "I hate you," you mouthed, the last bit of your bratty defiance flickering one last time.

Sophia’s smile widened, genuine and terrifying. "I know. And I'm going to enjoy every second of making you forget why."

The rest was a blur. The vows felt like a death sentence. The ring she slid onto your finger was heavy, a band of diamonds that felt like a permanent mark of ownership.

"I now pronounce you married," the priest said.

Sophia didn't wait. She took your face in both hands, her fingers digging slightly into your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. She kissed you—not a gentle, wedding-day peck, but a deep, dominant kiss that claimed you in front of everyone.

The crowd erupted into applause, but all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and the dark promise in Sophia’s eyes as she pulled away.

"Finally," she whispered, her eyes dropping to your stomach for a fraction of a second. "Mine."

The reception was a blur of flashing cameras, expensive champagne, and people you barely knew congratulating you on a "fairytale" that felt like a nightmare. You retreated into your bratty shell, downing three glasses of wine and snapping at the waiters, trying to maintain some shred of the girl you were before the ring.

But no matter where you went in the ballroom, you felt her.

Sophia was the perfect host, shaking hands and charming investors, but her attention was never truly off you. She wanted you in a way that was visible to no one but you—a predatory, restless hunger that seemed to tighten the air in the room.

Every time you laughed sarcastically at a bridesmaid’s joke, you’d catch Sophia watching you from across the room, her glass paused at her lips. She wasn't smiling anymore. She looked like she was counting the seconds until the guests left.

"You're drinking too much," Sophia’s voice suddenly appeared near your ear. She didn't move away; she pressed her front against your back, her arms sliding around your waist to pull you flush against her.

"I'm celebrating," you hissed, trying to wiggle out of her grip. "Isn't that what brides do? Get drunk and forget who they're married to?"

"Not my bride," Sophia whispered, her nose grazing the sensitive skin behind your ear. You felt a shiver run down your spine that you desperately tried to hide. "You look so delicious when you're being difficult, Y/N. I’ve spent all day watching you walk, watching you pout... do you have any idea how much self-control it's taking not to take you home right now?"

"Then go talk to your investors and leave me alone," you snapped, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

Sophia’s grip tightened, her fingers splaying across your stomach. "I don't want to talk to them. I want to see you in that dress on the floor of our bedroom. I want to see if you’re still a 'nightmare' when I’m finally holding you down."

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a raw, aching pitch. "I've waited years for this. I've built this entire world just so I could put you in the center of it. Every time you roll your eyes or snap at me, it just makes me want to break you even more."

You turned in her arms, looking up at her with a defiant glare. "You can't break me, Sophia. I’ll make your life miserable. I’ll spend your money, I’ll ruin your reputation—"

Sophia didn't look angry. She looked enchanted. She reached up, her thumb tracing your lower lip, pulling it down slightly.

"Spend it all, darling. Burn the house down if it makes you happy," she murmured, her eyes dark with a terrifying level of devotion. "As long as you’re carrying my name... and eventually, my legacy. You have no idea what I have planned for us tonight."

She signaled to her assistant without looking away from you. "Bring the car around. We're leaving early."

"What? No! The cake hasn't even—"

"The cake doesn't matter," Sophia interrupted, her hand sliding up to the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair to keep you still. "I’m hungry for something else. And I’m tired of waiting."

As she led you toward the exit, her hand firm on the small of your back, you realized this wasn't just a crush. It was an obsession. A fever.  And you were the only cure she was ever going to accept.

The drive to the estate was silent, save for the heavy thrum of the rain against the tinted windows. You sat as far away from Sophia as the leather seats would allow, staring out at the blurred lights of the city. Sophia didn't say a word; she simply watched you, her eyes reflecting the passing streetlights like a predator in the tall grass.

When the car finally stopped at the front of the mansion, the driver opened your door, but Sophia was already there, reaching out to take your hand. Her grip was tight—not a request, but a command.

She led you through the dark foyer and up the grand staircase. The only sound was the rustle of your silk train against the marble. When you reached the master suite, Sophia pushed the heavy oak doors open and stepped aside to let you in.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, you heard the soft, heavy thud of the doors closing behind you. Then, the distinct, metallic click of the lock turning.

You spun around, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Why did you lock the door?"

Sophia was leaning against the doorframe, tossing the key onto a side table. She began to slowly peel off her white blazer, tossing it onto a chair. "I told you, darling. I’m tired of people interrupting us. Tonight, the world doesn't exist. Just us."

"I'm tired," you snapped, trying to summon your usual bratty energy, but your voice wavered. "I want to take this dress off and sleep. In the guest room."

"This is your room now," Sophia said, walking toward you with a slow, deliberate grace. "And you aren't going to sleep. Not yet."

She stopped right in front of you. The air between you was thick with the scent of her perfume and the underlying tension of 9 months of waiting. She reached out, her fingers finding the hidden zipper at the back of your dress.

"You've been such a beautiful nightmare, Y/N," she whispered, her breath hot against your neck. "All those tantrums... all those demands... did you really think they would make me want you less? They just made me want to see what it would take to make you quiet."

She slowly pulled the zipper down. The silk loosened around your chest, the cool air hitting your skin. You tried to pull away, but her other hand came up to cup your face, her thumb pressing firmly into your cheek.

"Don't," you whispered, though you felt a strange, dizzying rush of heat.

"Don't what?" Sophia murmured, her lips ghosting over yours. "Don't claim what’s mine? Don't start the family I’ve been dreaming of since the moment I saw you?"

She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours. Her voice dropped to a dark, raw honesty that was more terrifying than her threats.

"I'm going to give you everything, Y/N. Every bag, every trip, every diamond. But in exchange, I’m taking everything you are. Tonight, you stop being a brat. Tonight, you become mine."

She reached for the silver pill case one last time, but instead of handing you one, she set it down on the nightstand and pushed it aside.

"No more vitamins," she whispered, her eyes dark with a terrifyingly clear intent. "Tonight, I finally make you mine for good."

As she pulled the dress off your shoulders, letting the expensive silk pool like a white shadow at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your delicate lace undergarments. The room was cold, but the air between you and Sophia was thick enough to choke on. You realized that the "brat" had finally met someone she couldn't outrun.

Sophia reached out, her movements slow and deliberate. Her fingers were cool as they slid along your jaw, her thumb moving to caress your cheek with a tenderness that felt like an insult. She looked at you with such devastating yearning, as if she were trying to memorize every inch of your face.

"My beautiful, temperamental wife," she murmured, her voice laced with a terrifyingly soft affection.

The "brat" in you surged to the surface, desperate to break the spell of her gaze. With a sharp, sudden motion, your hand flew up and slapped her hand away from your face. The sound of the impact was loud in the quiet suite.

Sophia’s head stayed tilted to the side for a long beat. When she slowly turned back to look at you, her eyes had darkened. A slow, chilling smile formed on her lips, not a smile of kindness, but one of pure, dark satisfaction.

Before you could move, her hand shot out, not to hit you, but to catch your wrist. She pulled you forward, your bodies colliding with a soft thud. The contrast was dizzying; you were half-undressed and vulnerable, while she was still perfectly composed, smelling of expensive wine and dominance.

"You think you’re being strong, don't you?" she murmured, leaning down until her lips were brushing against the ear you’d just tried to turn away. She brought your captured wrist up, pinning it against the wall behind your head. "But all you’re doing is showing me how much you need to be handled. You’ve spent your whole life getting your way because people were too afraid to tell you no."

She leaned in closer, her weight pressing you firmly into the wall. "I'm not afraid of you, Y/N. And I’m certainly not going to let you go."

You tried to pull your hand back, but she only tightened her hold, her thumb stroking the pulse point on your wrist where your heart was thudding like a trapped bird.

"Tonight," she breathed, her other hand sliding down from your waist to the curve of your hip, "I’m going to teach you that there are consequences for being a brat. And by the time the sun comes up, you’re going to be thanking me for every single one of them."

She leaned in, her kiss no longer the polite, distant thing from the wedding. It was a claim—deep, demanding, and utterly overwhelming. For a second, you tried to keep your lips pressed shut, tried to stay the cold, bored girl you’d practiced being for months. But as Sophia’s presence consumed you, and you began to melt, leaving only the girl Sophia had spent nine months waiting to break.

Sophia's kisses were heated like she has been waiting for this moment forever (which she has), She began walking backwards till the back of your knees hit the bed making you fall backwards and Her on top of you still not breaking the kiss.  You tried to turn your head, a last-ditch effort to regain some shred of your "bratty" distance, but she caught your jaw with her free hand, her fingers firm, guiding you back to her.

"Don't look away now, Y/N," she whispered against your lips. "See who you married."

Her lips attached to your neck, and you tried desperately to hold in your moans. But Sophia somehow knew your body so well; it was giving in to her, and you hated it. You squeezed your thighs together instinctively, a final, futile attempt at a defense.

Sophia’s hands caressed your sides before moving down to your leg, touching your thighs and spreading them. She shifted her weight, pressing her knee firmly against your heat. You let out a silent groan at the sensation, causing Sophia to grin slightly against your lips as you struggled to keep up with her.

"That's it," she murmured, her voice vibrating against your skin. "Stop fighting the person who knows you better than you know yourself."

She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, her hand moving to catch yours, interlacing her fingers with yours and pinning your hand to the pillow. The diamond on your wedding ring dug into your skin.

"You've been such a loud, beautiful nightmare for nine months," she breathed, her eyes dark with a terrifyingly clear hunger. "But tonight, you’re finally quiet. Tonight, there are no more pills to hide behind. No more distance. I’m going to make sure that by tomorrow, you don't even remember how to walk away from me."

You were a complete wreck, your head falling back against the pillows as you realized just how drenched you were for her. Sophia could feel it, too. Her hand hovered over your lace-covered pussy, her palm flat and heavy as she started rubbing you in slow, agonizing circles. You couldn't help it; you bucked your hips into her hand, a desperate, needy sound escaping your throat.

Her eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and blown out with a hunger that made your stomach do flips. She was waiting, making you sweat, until you gave her that one tiny, frantic nod.

She didn't waste another second. She hooked her fingers into your panties and yanked them down, the cool air hitting your wet skin and making you hiss. You were already aching, but Sophia—god, Sophia was vibrating with it. Her pants were strained to the breaking point, a thick, heavy bulge twitching against the fabric. She looked like she was in pain from wanting you so bad, but she shoved it down. She wasn't done "taming" you yet. She wanted you begging before she gave in.

She touched you delicately at first, almost teasing, before she suddenly shoved two fingers deep inside your tight cunt. She curled it immediately, hitting that spot that made your brain go fuzzy and a loud gasp rip from your lungs.

Sophia knew she had to prepare you for her. She made quick work of her own clothes, kicking her pants and underwear aside until her thick, throbbing cock sprang free. It was huge, especially from what you've seen before, veins pulsating with every beat of her heart, the head of it brushing against her stomach. She gripped herself tight, her knuckles turning white, while her other hand kept fingering you, her movements getting faster and dirtier as she watched you lose your mind.

Her fingers were relentless, turning your insides into liquid as you thrashed beneath her. You were completely at her mercy, your "brat" attitude long gone, replaced by a desperate, sobbing need.

Sophia’s breathing was heavy, a ragged sound that matched the way she was gripping her own cock. She leaned over you, her shadow engulfing you, her eyes never once leaving your face.

"You're so wet for me, Y/N," she growled, her voice dropping into that dark, possessive register. "Look at you. All that fighting, all those months of being a brat... just to end up shaking under me like this."

She withdrew her fingers, leaving you feeling cold and empty for only a second before she positioned herself. The head of her cock brushed against your entrance, slicking itself with your own heat. You let out a shaky moan, your legs falling open wider as your body instinctively give into her.

"I'm never letting you go after tonight," she whispered, her hands pinning your wrists back down against the pillows, her weight finally settling between your thighs. "You’re going to stay right here, in this house, in this bed... until you’re carrying everything I want to give you."

With a slow, heavy thrust, she began to push inside. You let out a sharp, choked-off cry as she stretched you out, the sheer size of her filling you until you felt like you were going to burst. It was a slow, agonizingly perfect, Sophia making sure you felt every single inch of her claiming you.

"God, you’re so tight," she hissed, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as she bottomed out, her hips slamming against yours with a meaty thud.

She stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming fullness of her, her forehead resting against yours. You were gasping for air, your heart hammering against your ribs, your fingers digging into the silk sheets.

"Mine," she breathed, the word a vibration you felt deep in your gut. "Say it, Y/N. Tell me who you belong to."

Sophia didn’t wait for you to answer. She started to move, her hips pulling back nearly all the way before slamming back into you hard and raw. Each thrust was deep, hitting your insides deliciously and sending white-hot sparks behind your eyelids. The bed frame knocked against the wall, matching the rhythmic, wet sounds of her body driving into yours. You whimpered “S-Sophia."

"I can feel how much you want this," she rasped, her hands sliding under your lower back to tilt your pelvis up, making sure she could get even deeper. "I can feel your body trying to take every drop from me."

The way she said it made your stomach flip. It wasn't just sex; it was a deliberate attempt to put a baby inside you. She leaned down, her teeth grazing the shell of your ear as she picked up the pace, her thrusts becoming faster, messier, and more desperate.

The sound of the bed frame hitting the wall was constant now, a rhythmic, wet thudding that drowned out everything else. You were completely undone, your legs wrapped so tightly around Sophia’s waist that your ankles were starting to ache, but you didn't care. You were chasing that heavy, pulsing heat she was driving into you over and over again.

Sophia leaned down, her sweat-slicked skin pressing against yours, her voice dropping into a dark, guttural growl that sent shivers down your spine.

"Fuck I’m going to fill you so full, Y/N," she rasped, her hips snapping forward with a brutal, shallow pace that made your breath hitch. "I’m going to pump so much of my cum into you that you’ll feel it sloshing inside you all morning. You’re going to be dripping with me for days. You're going to be such a good mommy for me, aren't you?"

She hit that one spot deep inside you, and your back arched off the bed, your fingers digging into her back. “f-fuckk” You moaned. The "brat" was long gone; you were just a hungry, desperate thing under her now, craving the very thing that would trap you forever.

"Yes," you sobbed out, your voice wrecked and needy. "Yes, Sophia... please. Fill me up. Give me a baby. I want to feel it... I want to feel all of it inside me!"

The look on Sophia’s face was pure, terrifying triumph. She leaned in, her lips brushing yours as she began to hammer into you with a raw intensity, her hands sliding down to grip your ass and lift you higher.

"That's it, my perfect girl," she cooed, her voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet praise that made your heart race. "Such a good girl for me. Fuck you’re taking me so well, darling. So deep. Look at how perfectly you're built to grip me. You were made for this... made to be filled by me."

She began to pump into you with everything she had, her breath coming in ragged, harsh hitches. "You're doing so well, Y/N. Just keep taking it. Keep staying open for me. I've never seen anything as beautiful as you finally giving up and letting me put my baby inside you."

You were a mess of sweat and slick, your walls clenching around her like a vice as the pressure built to a breaking point. The praise was like a drug, making you want to please the very woman who was stealing your freedom.

"Give it to me!" you screamed, your vision blurring as the first waves of you cumming started to hit.

Sophia let out a low, animalistic groan as she bottomed out one last time, her body locking up in a rigid, trembling line. You felt the hot, thick pulses of her cum flooding into you, wave after wave of heat filling your womb just like she promised. She stayed buried deep, her weight crushing you into the mattress as she shuddered through her release, making sure not a single drop was wasted.

"Good girl," she panted into your ear, her voice thick with a dark, smug satisfaction as she felt you pulsing around her. "My perfect, fertile wife. You took every drop. I'm so proud of you, Y/N. We're going to have such a beautiful baby."

She stayed pinned to you, her heart thudding a heavy against yours. She refused to move, her weight anchoring you to the mattress as she held herself deep inside, making sure every drop of her stayed exactly where she wanted it.

"Don't move, darling," she whispered, her voice a low, soothing hum that vibrated through your chest. "Let's just stay like this."

Her hands, once so demanding, began to stroke your hair with tenderness. The adrenaline that had fueled your defiance all night finally faded away, leaving you completely exhausted and hazy. The heat of her body, the overwhelming fullness between your thighs, and the rhythmic sound of her breathing acted like a sedative.

Your eyelids grew heavy, the room blurring into shadows. You didn't have the strength to fight anymore, your body softening into the silk sheets as you finally went limp beneath her.

"That's it," Sophia cooed, feeling your muscles relax as you drifted off. "Sleep now, my perfect girl. When you wake up, everything will be different."

By the time your eyes drifted shut and your breathing leveled into the deep pull of sleep, you were still pinned, still full, and officially hers.

The sun was barely peeking through the heavy velvet curtains when you drifted back into consciousness. Your body felt heavy, a dull, warm ache settling deep in your hips and thighs. As you tried to shift, you realized you couldn't; Sophia’s arm was draped over your waist and her body tucked tightly against your back.

The memory of the night hit you all at once, the "taming," the desperate way you’d begged her to fill you, and the terrifyingly sweet praise she’d whispered while she did it. You felt a wet, sticky slide between your thighs, a reminder of what had happened last night.

You tried to pull away, your mind finally clearing enough to feel a spike of panic. The pills. You needed to get to the bathroom. You needed to wash her out of you before it was too late.

"Going somewhere, darling?"

Sophia’s voice was low and terrifyingly alert. She hadn't been sleeping. She had been lying there in the dark, watching you. Her grip on your waist tightened, pulling you back flush against her heat.

"I... I need to go to the bathroom," you stammered, your voice raspy from the screaming you’d done the night before.

"In a minute," Sophia murmured, her lips grazing the back of your neck. "Stay still. I want to make sure everything stays exactly where I put it. You were such a good girl last night, Y/N. I don't want all that hard work to go to waste."

When she finally let you up, you practically stumbled into the en-suite bathroom. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the cabinet where you kept your backup pack of birth control/plan b.

Your heart stopped.

The cabinet was empty. Not just the pills—your morning-after kit, your emergency backups, even your basic vitamins were gone. In their place sat a single, elegant glass of water and a small, white prenatal pill sitting on a porcelain coaster.

You turned around to see Sophia leaning against the doorframe, still naked, looking at you with a calm, possessive smile. She looked like she had already won the war.

"I took the liberty of tidying up," she said softly, walking toward you until you were backed against the cold marble counter. She picked up the new pill and held it to your lips. "No more poisons, Y/N. From now on, we’re only putting things in your body that help our baby grow. Now, be a good wife and take your vitamins."

───────

a/n: Im scared what did y'all think (•᷄- •᷅ ;) (literally barfing from nerves)

also happy holidaysss!!! :D ☃️

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

this is so good bro like I need more stuff to read like this

[ilselblnd]

si

[ijustluvbillieandmanon]

biggest bro 🤤