>> After your grandparents passed, your parents dumped their old, rotting manor on you with zero help. “You’re broke, so deal with it,” they said. Reluctantly, you move into the isolated, creepy estate alone, expecting dust, leaks, and maybe some rats.
pair ; dom!lara raj x g!p!reader
tags ; blowjob. handjob. sucking breasts. praise
-> ‘MYLM’ masterlist.
—
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not staying there.”
You cross your arms tight across your chest, staring at your parents like they’ve lost their goddamn minds.
The three of you are standing in the middle of your tiny apartment kitchen, the one with the leaky faucet and the rent that’s two weeks late again. Your mom’s holding a thick yellow envelope with your grandparents’ names on it. Your dad just looks tired.
“Sweetheart, it’s not like we’re asking you to move to Antarctica,” your mom says, trying to sound reasonable. “The manor’s been in the family for generations. Your grandparents left it specifically to you.”
“Yeah, because they were creepy as hell,” you mutter under your breath.
Big mistake.
Your mom’s eyes go wide. “How dare you.”
Your dad sighs like he’s aged ten years in the last thirty seconds. “Watch your mouth. They raised me in that house. Show some respect.”
“Respect?” You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Grandpa used to talk to the walls at night. Grandma collected dead butterflies and told me they were ‘watching me sleep.’ I had nightmares for weeks every time we visited. That place is straight out of a horror movie.”
Your mom slams the envelope on the counter. “They’re dead, Y/n. Gone. And they left everything to you. The house, the land, all of it. Do you know how lucky you are?”
“Lucky?” Your voice cracks as you gesture wildly around your sad little apartment. “I’m broke, Mom. I know that. You don’t have to rub it in my face every five minutes. But I’d rather sleep in my car than live in that creepy ass mansion in the middle of nowhere.”
Your dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’re not helping you with rent anymore. We told you that. You’re twenty-three. It’s time to figure it out.”
“So your solution is to ship me off to a haunted house? Real supportive parenting, guys.”
“It’s not haunted,” your mom snaps. “It’s just old. It needs some cleaning, some love. You’ll be fine.”
You stare at them, heart pounding. Part of you wants to scream. Part of you wants to cry. But the worst part? They’re right.
You are broke.
Your job barely covers food, let alone rent, and your savings account is laughing at you. Moving back in with them isn’t an option — they made that crystal clear last month.
So here you are. Cornered.
“I hate you both right now,” you say quietly, voice shaking.
Your mom softens just a little, reaching out to touch your arm. You pull away. “You’ll thank us later. The manor’s paid off. No mortgage. You can finally breathe.”
“Yeah. Breathe in eighty years of dust and dead people vibes,” you mutter.
Your dad hands you the keys. They’re heavy and cold in your palm, old-fashioned iron ones that look like they belong in a museum. “The movers already took your stuff this morning. You just need to drive up there.”
“Today?” Your eyes widen. “You’re kicking me out today?”
“We’re not kicking you out,” your mom says, but she won’t meet your eyes. “We’re giving you an opportunity.”
You snatch the envelope and keys, shoving them into your backpack with more force than necessary. “Whatever. I hope the place is actually haunted and the ghosts eat me. At least then you’ll feel bad.”
Your mom looks genuinely hurt..
The drive is long and quiet. Hours of winding roads that get narrower and narrower until the trees start crowding in like they’re trying to swallow your car.
By the time you pull up the long gravel driveway, the sun is already setting, painting the sky in bruised purples and oranges.
The manor looms.
It’s bigger than you remembered. Three stories of dark wood and stone, ivy crawling up the walls like veins.
Some of the windows are cracked. The front porch sags a little. The air feels… heavier here.
You kill the engine and just sit there, gripping the steering wheel.
“This is insane,” you whisper to yourself. “Completely insane.”
You force yourself out of the car anyway. The gravel crunches under your shoes as you drag your suitcase toward the front door. The key sticks at first, like the house itself doesn’t want you inside. When it finally turns, the door creaks open with a sound straight out of every horror movie ever made.
Inside it smells like old wood, dust, and something faintly sweet. Like flowers that died years ago.
You flick on the lights. A few bulbs buzz and flicker before staying on. The foyer is massive, with a chandelier hanging way too low and a grand staircase that curves up into darkness.
“Home sweet home,” you mutter, kicking the door shut behind you.
The sound echoes.
You spend the next hour dragging your stuff inside and wandering room to room, flipping on every light you can find. The kitchen is ancient but huge. The living room has furniture covered in white sheets like ghosts. Upstairs there are way too many bedrooms, all of them cold and untouched.
By the time you collapse onto the dusty master bed (the one your grandparents used to sleep in), you’re exhausted. Mentally. Physically.
And spiritually.
You stare at the ceiling, the old wooden beams staring back.
“Ugh, I hate this,” you say out loud, just to hear a voice in the silence. “If any ghosts are listening… do me a favor and stay away.”
A floorboard creaks somewhere down the hall.
You freeze.
Probably just the house settling. Old houses do that.
Right?
You finally drifted off somewhere, too drained to even change out of your clothes.
Slow, heavy footsteps dragged across the dusty wooden floor, getting closer to the master bedroom. The door that you swore you closed was already halfway open.
Sophia stood in the doorway.
Tall and imposing, her skin carried a deep red undertone with small dark horns curling from her forehead. Her eyes glowed faintly, one completely black, the other a burning ember.
A long, thin tail swayed lazily behind her, the tip occasionally tapping against the floor. She wore an old, tattered black dress that clung to her frame, the fabric looking singed at the edges.
She stopped at the edge of the bed and just… stared at you for a long time. Head tilted. Breathing slow and low.
She leaned down, close enough that her warm breath brushed your neck. Her nose hovered near your collarbone, then your hair, taking you in carefully. Curious.
Her fingers — warmer than they should be — hovered over your arm but didn’t quite touch.
After a minute she straightened up again, satisfied, and turned to leave the room.
She didn’t get far.
Right outside the bedroom door stood a tall figure completely covered in a white sheet, two big black holes cut out for eyes.
Sophia startled, one hand jerking up. “Yoonchae… you scared me.”
The sheet ghost tilted her head, then two small hands reached up and lifted the bottom of the blanket just enough to reveal Yoonchae’s face — soft curious eyes, and messy dark hair sticking out everywhere.
“Sorry…” Yoonchae whispered, voice quiet and a little shy. “Who was that…?”
Sophia’s expression softened immediately, the faint glow in her eyes dimming. “Our new guest. She’s sleeping.“
Yoonchae peeked around Sophia’s side, trying to get another look into the bedroom without getting too close. Her eyes were wide with quiet wonder. “She looks tired.”
Sophia nodded slowly, glancing back toward you.
Yoonchae pulled the sheet a little higher around herself, almost hiding again. “Do you think she’ll be nice…?”
“I hope so,” Sophia murmured gently. She reached out and lightly adjusted the sheet on Yoonchae’s head, making sure it stayed in place. “We’ll watch over her for now. Let her rest. And don’t bother her yet. Lara will probably want to call dibs on the first prank anyway.”
Yoonchae gave a small nod, still looking toward the bed with quiet interest. She stayed half-hidden behind Sophia, the edge of the white sheet dragging softly along the floor as they both stood there for a little longer, watching you sleep.
You stirred slightly in the bed, mumbling something about the stupid manor before turning over and pulling the blanket higher.
The two of them stayed quiet, not wanting to wake you.
A few hours later, you jolted awake at exactly 3:07 AM, heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out.
The nightmare was already fading — something about shadows crawling up the walls and cold hands grabbing your ankles — but the fear stayed stuck in your chest.
“Fuck this place,” you muttered, rubbing your face. Your voice sounded too loud in the dead silence.
You grabbed your phone from your pocket, the screen lighting up and hurting your eyes. The battery was still decent.
You opened the browser, typed in the usual site with shaky fingers, and scrolled until you found something that looked decent. A girl getting railed hard, loud moans filling your headphones as you shoved one earbud in.
Your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts. You were already half-hard from the dream adrenaline and the video. Fingers wrapped around your cock, stroking slowly at first, breath getting heavier as you tried to lose yourself in it.
Thud.
Something heavy fell somewhere down the hall.
You froze, hand still down your pants. The moan in your ear suddenly felt stupid. You yanked the earbud out and sat up, listening.
Nothing.
“Probably just the house settling,” you whispered. But your pulse was racing again. You waited another minute, then shook your head. “Wait… I’m not a pussy. This is my house now.”
You pulled your hand out, fixed your shorts, and stood up. Shirt rumpled, barefoot, you crept out of the bedroom and headed downstairs, phone flashlight on.
Every creak of the stairs made you wince. The living room looked the same — sheets over furniture, dust floating in the beam of light. You swept the flashlight around.
Nothing moved. No broken shit on the floor.
“See? Nothing,” you said, trying to sound brave. “Just old wood doing old wood things.”
Then you felt it.
A presence right behind you.
Before you could turn, a loud crash exploded to your left — a glass vase or ornament smashing against the wall, shards scattering across the floor.
You whipped around. “What the actual fuck?!”
No one there.
Panic hit hard. You bolted, feet pounding on the dusty floor. Your foot caught on the edge of a rug and you went down hard, slamming into the ground with a grunt. Pain shot through your elbow and knee.
When you pushed yourself up, groaning, there she was.
Floating a few feet away was a girl in a long black nightgown, dark skin almost. Her dark hair floated slightly like she was underwater. Big, playful eyes looked down at you with fake sympathy.
“Aw, poor you…” Lara said softly, tilting her head. Her voice was light and teasing, like she was holding back a giggle.
Your brain short-circuited. You stared at her, mouth open, trying to process the floating girl in your grandparents’ manor at 3 AM. Then everything went black.
You passed out cold on the floor.
Lara drifted closer, lowering herself until her bare feet hovered just above the ground. She crouched down beside you, curious.
Your shirt had ridden up during the fall, exposing a strip of toned stomach and the waistband of your shorts. She blinked slowly, taking in the way your body looked — surprisingly fit under the baggy clothes you’d worn for the move.
Her fingers hovered over your stomach, not quite touching, feeling the warmth radiating off your skin. A small, interested smile tugged at her lips.
For a second you thought the whole thing was still part of the nightmare — until you tried to sit up and a sharp pain shot through your elbow.
Yeah. Real.
Your heart was still racing like crazy. The flashlight from your phone had rolled a few feet away, casting weird long shadows across the room.
You blinked hard, trying to shake off the dizziness, and that’s when you saw her again.
She wasn’t floating anymore.
Lara had shifted. The ghostly glow was gone. Now she looked… Human. And stupidly, unfairly gorgeous.
Her dark hair fell in loose waves down her back, a few strands framing her face. Warm brown skin that looked smooth under the moonlight, full lips, and big expressive eyes that watched you with a mix of amusement and curiosity.
She wore a simple black slip dress that hugged her body in a way that made it hard to look away — even though every instinct in you was screaming to run.
You scrambled backward on the floor until your back hit the wall, breathing fast. “What the fuck… who are you? What are you?”
Lara tilted her head, that playful little smile still on her lips. She stayed crouched for a moment longer before slowly standing up, moving with this light, graceful energy that didn’t quite match the heavy old house around her.
“You fell pretty hard,” she said softly, voice gentle but clearly entertained. “I didn’t mean for you to knock yourself out like that.”
Your brain was struggling to keep up. She looked real. She sounded real. But people didn’t just float. And normal girls didn’t appear in abandoned manors at 3 AM wearing nothing but a thin black dress.
You pushed yourself up a little more, wincing. Your shirt was still halfway ridden up from the fall, exposing your stomach, and your shorts… fuck.
You were still half-hard from earlier, the adrenaline and leftover arousal mixing together in the worst possible way. The bulge in your shorts was obvious if anyone was actually looking.
And she was looking.
Lara’s eyes flicked down for a second, lingering. Her eyebrows raised just a tiny bit, a spark of interest flashing across her face before she met your eyes again. She didn’t say anything about it, but the small smirk that tugged at her lips told you she definitely noticed.
You didn’t even register it yourself — too busy being terrified, blood pounding in your ears. All you could think was ghost, demon, monster, run.
“I—I’m losing my mind,” you muttered, pressing a hand to your forehead. “This isn’t happening. You’re not real. I’m going back to sleep and when I wake up—”
“You’re not crazy,” Lara cut in, stepping a little closer. She moved carefully, like she was approaching a scared animal. “And I’m very real. Well… real enough now.”
She glanced down at her own hands, turning them over like she was still getting used to the solid form. “It’s been a long time since we had someone living here who could actually see us. And touch us.”
Us.
The word made your stomach drop.
You tried to stand but your legs felt shaky. Lara watched you the whole time, that gorgeous face calm but clearly amused by how freaked out you were. Up close she was even prettier — sharp jawline, long lashes, the way her hair contrasted against the black dress.
She looked like she could’ve stepped out of a magazine if it wasn’t for the faint, unnatural shimmer around her edges when she moved.
“You threw that glass,” you said accusingly, voice hoarse. “I heard it. I saw it.”
Lara shrugged lightly, biting back a grin. “I got excited. Sorry. I’ve been waiting for someone fun to show up.” Her eyes drifted down again for half a second, taking in the way your body looked — the exposed skin, the obvious shape in your shorts — before flicking back up. “You’re… warmer than I expected. And stronger looking under all those baggy clothes.”
You tugged your shirt down quickly, face burning. “Stay back. I don’t know what you are but—”
Before you could finish, another set of footsteps echoed from upstairs.
Lara glanced toward the staircase and sighed, almost like she was annoyed at the interruption. “Sophia’s coming. She’s gonna be mad I scared you first. I think.” She looked back at you, eyes sparkling. “Don’t pass out again, okay? We’ve been lonely.”
You pressed harder against the wall, heart hammering, trying to process the fact that this beautiful girl in front of you had just thrown a vase with her mind and was now casually talking about “we” like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Lara’s smile softened a little, like she was trying to be friendly. “Y’know what? Let’s just chat. I promise I won’t throw anything else. You look like you have questions and—”
Nope.
You didn’t wait for the rest of the sentence. Pure panic took over. You bolted, feet slipping on the dusty floor as you sprinted toward the nearest hallway.
“Hey!” Lara called after you, voice losing its playful tone. “Don’t run!”
You didn’t listen. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst. You rounded the corner, breathing ragged, and spotted the first door you could find. You shoved it open, practically falling inside what looked like an old study or library — tall shelves, covered furniture, one big window letting in moonlight.
You slammed the door shut and dragged a heavy wooden chair over, jamming it under the handle with shaking hands. Your back pressed against the door as you tried to catch your breath.
“Okay… okay, calm down,” you whispered to yourself. “This isn’t real. None of this is—”
A soft shimmer appeared right in front of you.
Lara stepped straight through the wall like it was nothing, that white slip dress flowing around her body. Her expression had changed — no more cute playful smile. Now she looked irritated, brows furrowed, full lips pressed into a thin line.
You stumbled backward. “What the hell—?!”
Before you could get another word out, Lara moved fast. She grabbed both of your wrists and slammed them against the wall above your head with surprising strength. The impact made you gasp. She had you pinned — her body pressing close enough that you could feel the cool-but-not-cold energy radiating off her.
“Stop. Running.” Her voice was low, annoyed, a little breathy. Those big dark eyes stared right into yours, inches away. “I’ve been stuck in this house for decades and the first living person who shows up decides to sprint away like I’m going to eat them? Rude.”
You were breathing hard, chest rising and falling fast. Your wrists ached a little where her hands held them firmly against the wall. She was taller than you expected in this form, and way stronger.
Her warm brown skin looked flawless up close, long dark hair falling over one shoulder. She really was stupidly gorgeous — the kind of pretty that made your brain short-circuit even while you were terrified.
Lara’s gaze dropped again, lingering lower. Your shorts were still tented, the outline of your half-hard cock even more obvious now that you were pinned and breathing heavily. She licked her lips slowly, deliberately.
“You’re scared…” she murmured, voice dropping an octave, “but your body isn’t.”
She leaned in closer. Her nose brushed along your jaw, then she dragged her tongue slowly up the side of your neck — hot, wet, and teasing. A shiver shot straight down your spine. Your cock twitched hard in your shorts, now fully hard and pressing uncomfortably against the fabric.
“Fuck—” you hissed, trying to pull your arms free, but she held you there easily.
Lara hummed against your skin, licking another slow stripe up your neck before gently sucking on the spot right under your ear. Her body pressed flush against yours now, soft breasts brushing your chest through that thin dress.
One of her thighs slid between your legs, pressing lightly against your bulge and making you groan despite yourself.
“You’re warm,” she whispered, lips brushing your skin with every word. “So warm… and hard already. Even though you’re shaking.” She rolled her hips once, grinding against your thigh while keeping your arms pinned. “I like that.”
Your head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. Part of you still wanted to scream and run, but the feeling of her tongue on your neck, her body against yours, and the way she was looking at you — like she wanted to devour every inch — was making it really fucking hard to think straight.
Lara pulled back just enough to look at your face again. Her cheeks were slightly flushed now, eyes darker. She looked less irritated and more hungry.
“Tell me your name,” she said, voice husky. She rolled her thigh against your cock again, firmer this time, drawing a shaky breath out of you. “Or I can keep guessing while I taste more of you…”
Her tongue flicked out again, tracing your collarbone this time, dipping lower toward the neckline of your shirt. She was taking her time, savoring the way your body reacted even when your mouth was still trying to protest.
You were trapped between fear and heat, cock throbbing against her thigh, wrists still pinned above your head by this gorgeous ghost girl who definitely wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she murmured, voice low and husky. “Not until I get a better taste.”
She leaned in again, not a kiss but her hot tongue dragging slowly up the side of your neck. A long, deliberate lick that made your whole body tense. Your cock throbbed painfully hard in your shorts, the bulge pressed against her thigh as she kept you trapped there.
With her free hand, Lara tugged at the collar of your shirt, yanking it aside and tucking the fabric over your shoulder so more of your neck and collarbone were exposed.
She hummed in approval, then gave you another long, wet lick from the base of your neck all the way up to just below your ear, savoring the way you shivered.
“Mm… salty,” she whispered against your skin before latching on, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey. She did it again, then again, marking a trail down your neck.
Your breathing was ragged, hips twitching involuntarily into her leg.
Lara pulled back slightly, eyes scanning lower. Without warning she used her free hand to tug down the thin strap of her own black dress, letting it slip off one shoulder.
Her full brown breast spilled out, nipple already hard in the cool air of the room. The sight made your mouth go dry.
She smirked at your reaction.
“Look at you… staring even while you’re scared.” She grabbed the back of your head with her free hand and pushed your face forward, pressing your mouth right against her bare breast. “Suck.”
You hesitated for half a second, but the way she rolled her hips against you again made you give in. Your lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder when she let out a soft pleased sound. Your tongue swirled around it as she held you there, guiding your head.
“Good…” Lara breathed, her head tilting back a little. She kept your wrists pinned with one hand while the other stayed tangled in your hair, encouraging you to keep suckling. “Keep going. Use your tongue more.”
While you worked on her breast, she returned to your neck — licking long stripes across your skin, sucking more hickeys into the freshly exposed areas. Every time her tongue dragged over you, your cock jumped against her thigh, leaking a little into your shorts.
Lara shifted, pressing her bare breast firmer against your mouth, smothering you slightly as she ground down harder on your bulge. The friction was driving you crazy. You moaned into her skin, the sound muffled.
She laughed softly, low and breathy. “You’re so hard...” Her hand finally left your wrists, but only so she could slide it down your body, palm dragging over your chest and stomach before cupping your bulge through your shorts.
She squeezed once, firm, making you groan louder around her nipple.
“Fuck, you’re big,” she muttered, almost to herself. Her fingers traced the outline of your cock teasingly before squeezing again. “I want to feel it properly soon…”
She tugged her dress lower on the other side too, letting her second breast spill free. Then she pulled your head over to the other one, pushing your face in. “Don’t stop. Suckle.”
Your hands were finally free, but you didn’t try to run this time. Instead they landed on her waist, gripping the black fabric of her dress as you obeyed, sucking and licking at her other nipple while she continued marking up your neck and shoulder with her tongue and teeth.
The room was filled with the wet sounds of your mouth on her breasts and both of your heavy breathing. Lara’s hips kept rolling against you, grinding on your thigh while her hand stroked your cock over your shorts, slow and teasing.
She was clearly enjoying how overwhelmed you were — flushed, marked up, desperately sucking on her tits while your cock strained for more attention.
Lara leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear as she whispered, “You’re not scared anymore, are you? Not really… You like this.”
Her hand squeezed your cock again, thumb rubbing over the head through the fabric, spreading the wetness that had soaked through.
Her hand stayed tangled in your hair, guiding you, while her other hand kept slowly palming your cock through your shorts. The fabric was already damp from how much you were leaking.
After a minute she gently pulled your head back, her breast slipping from your mouth with a wet pop. Her eyes were darker now, breathing a little heavier.
She looked at you for a second — flushed face, hickeys already blooming on your neck, obvious bulge straining in your shorts.
Without saying anything, she slowly sank down to her knees in front of you, the black slip dress shifting around her thighs. Her hands slid up your legs, then hooked into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, tugging them down just enough to free your cock.
It sprang out, heavy and fully hard, the tip glistening. Lara’s eyes widened slightly, a small genuine smile tugging at her lips as she wrapped her fingers around the base.
“Wow…” she murmured, almost under her breath. “You really are big.”
She leaned in and dragged her tongue slowly from the base all the way up to the tip in one long, wet stripe. Then she did it again, slower this time, tasting you properly. Your hips jerked forward on instinct and she pressed one hand against your stomach to keep you still against the wall.
Lara glanced up at you through her lashes. “Relax… I’ve got you.”
She circled her tongue around the head, licking away the precum before wrapping her lips around just the tip and sucking gently.
The wet heat of her mouth made your knees feel weak. She took her time, bobbing her head little by little, taking more of you with each slow movement while her tongue pressed flat against the underside.
One of her hands stroked what she couldn’t fit yet, twisting lightly at the base. The other hand rested on your thigh, squeezing every time she sucked a little harder.
You groaned, head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. Your hand instinctively moved to her hair, not pushing, just holding on. Lara made a soft approving sound around your cock and took you deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she worked you.
She pulled off for a second, breathing warm air over your wet length as she stroked you steadily with her hand. “You’re shaking,” she said quietly, almost teasing. “Still scared? Or just really sensitive?”
Before you could answer she dipped back down, taking you into her mouth again, deeper this time. The wet, filthy sounds of her sucking filled the quiet old study. She hummed around you, the vibration shooting straight through your cock and making your thighs tense.
Lara’s head moved faster now, smooth and confident, her dark hair swaying with the motion. Every so often she’d pull back to lick long stripes along the sides or swirl her tongue around the head before sliding back down.
She was clearly enjoying herself — the way she kept looking up at your face, watching every reaction you gave her.
Your breathing was getting messier, hips twitching whenever she sucked particularly hard. Lara noticed and pressed you firmer against the wall with her free hand, keeping control. She took you even deeper, until you could feel the back of her throat, then swallowed around you.
“Fuck—” you choked out, fingers tightening in her hair.
She pulled back with a wet gasp, a thin string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. Her hand kept stroking you, fast and slick.
“You taste good,” she whispered, voice a little rough. She licked her lips and went right back to it, sucking you with renewed focus, hollowing her cheeks and working her tongue along every sensitive spot she could find.
The pleasure was building fast. Between the fear from earlier, the adrenaline, and how insanely good her mouth felt, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Lara seemed to sense it too.
She moaned softly around your cock, the vibration making your toes curl, and doubled her efforts — head bobbing quicker, hand stroking in perfect rhythm with her mouth.
She pulled off just long enough to murmur against your slick tip, “Go ahead… I want it.”
Then she sank back down, taking you as deep as she could, eyes locked on yours as she waited for you to fall apart.
You came hard with a broken groan, hips jerking against her face as thick spurts filled her mouth. Lara didn’t pull away. She swallowed around you, taking everything you gave her with soft, wet sounds, her throat working as she milked you through every pulse.
Even after you finished she didn’t stop right away — she kept sucking gently, tongue swirling to clean every inch, licking up the mess that had dripped down your shaft. When she finally pulled off, she gave one last long, slow lick from base to tip, making sure she got it all.
A small satisfied hum left her as she wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb and licked that clean too.
You slumped back against the wall, chest heaving, legs shaky as hell. Your head was spinning — fear, pleasure, confusion all crashing together. You tried to catch your breath, eyes half-lidded, barely able to focus.
Lara stood up slowly, graceful as ever, her black slip dress still hanging off one shoulder, breasts exposed. She looked at you with a soft little smile, brushing her hair back like nothing crazy had just happened.
For a second everything felt almost… calm.
Then her face changed.
Her eyes went completely black — no whites, just endless dark voids. Her smile stretched too wide, unnatural, showing teeth that looked sharper than before.
The temperature in the room dropped instantly.
Her head tilted at a wrong angle, hair floating slightly like she was underwater again. The beautiful girl from moments ago was gone.
This was something else.
Something so fucking terrifying.
You froze, heart slamming against your ribs.
“What the—”
Your words died in your throat. Pure primal fear hit you like a truck. Your vision blurred at the edges, knees buckling.
You passed out cold for the second time that night, sliding down the wall until you hit the floor in a pathetic heap.
Lara’s scary expression dropped immediately. Her eyes returned to normal, the sharp teeth disappeared, and she blinked a couple times like she just realized what she’d done.
“Woopsie daisy…” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.
Then she started giggling. Quiet at first, then a little louder, the sound light and genuinely amused as she looked down at your unconscious body slumped on the dusty floor, shorts still pulled down, neck covered in her hickeys.
She crouched beside you again, tilting her head curiously. Her fingers hovered over your cheek for a second before she gently poked it.
“You’re really dramatic,” she muttered fondly, still giggling under her breath. “It’s cute though.”
Lara stayed there for a moment, watching you breathe, the playful ghost energy back in full force now that the scare was over. She fixed the strap of her black dress, covering herself again, and glanced toward the door like she was wondering if the noise had woken anyone else up.
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what was supposed to be a simple visit quickly becomes something else as old memories begin resurfacing in words you thought had long forgotten your name.
there are promises you never fulfilled. conversations you never finished. stories that no matter how many years pass, seem determined to find their way back to you. after all this time, life has once brought you home again.
a sequel to the age you were
.– …. . .-. . .– . -… . –. .. -. .- –. .- .. -.
pairings: older!sophia laforteza x younger! female reader
listen to
you’ve only realised this now but ever since the breakup, you have never went back to your parent’s house. not once. instead of you visiting them, they were always the ones making the trip to see you. your mother would come during holidays,
your sister would stop by whenever she happened to be in the city, and every year you would tell yourself that next time you’d be the one to visit because six hours wasn’t even that bad if you really thought about it. plenty of people travelled longer.
yet somehow there was always something else that needed your attention first and before you knew it, six years had already passed.
you felt awful about it when you realized, not because your mother ever complained. If anything, she made it easier for you to avoid feeling guilty.
every time you apologized over the phone she would brush it off and tell you that you were busy and that she understood. which only made you feel worse because she really did understand.
fair enough.
though,
you had promised her something years ago.
you promised that one day you would get her out of that old house.
the house itself wasn’t bad. it was actually huge compared to most houses in the area. but it looked old. the paint wasn’t as bright anymore, some parts of the roof looked like they had survived several typhoons purely out of stubbornness, and every time you visited as a teenager you would tell yourself that when you finally made it, when you finally had enough money, you’d buy your mother somewhere nicer.
the funny thing was that, now, you actually could.
you had the money.
you had the means.
but every time you brought it up your mother always said no.
no renovations.
no rebuilding.
no moving.
just nothing.
she said the house was fine.
but you somehow knew the reason why didn’t want to change it.
because it was the house your father built.
it was the house where they raised their children.
it was the house that still had traces of him in every room.
and if she changed too much, she was scared she would lose those traces too.
so after filing for a two-week leave that had been sitting in your drafts for almost three months because you kept postponing it, you packed a bag, got in your car, and drove six hours back to the place you used to call home.
the roads looked smaller now.
or maybe you just got older.
or maybe you were just too used to the city(?)
you passed by the stores that somehow still existed despite looking like they should’ve closed years ago. you passed by streets you used to walk through every day after school and suddenly found yourself remembering things you hadn’t thought about in years. teacher’s names. old classmates. the bakery your father used to stop by every sunday morning.
before you realized it, it was already three in the afternoon by the time you pulled up in front of the house.
and for a moment, you just sat there.
looking.
because the house looked exactly the same.
it became older, sure.
a little more worn down. but still the same.
then the front door opened. and there stood your mother. standing exactly where she always was whenever one of her children came home.
.– …. . .-. . .– . -… . –. .. -. .- –. .- .. -.
somehow, arriving at the house felt more nostalgic than actually walking around the neighborhood, maybe because the house still looked like it had been paused in time, like nothing about it had changed since the last moment you really lived inside it, but everything outside it had, everything around it felt slightly smaller
your mother was walking beside you the entire time, close enough that you could hear her breathing between small comments she made about the houses you passed, who moved away, who got married, whose children were already in college now. the kind of updates only mothers seemed to collect without effort or intention.
then out of nowhere, three dogs ran toward her, tails wagging so hard their bodies followed the movement, and your mother immediately bent down like this was something that happened all the time.
she hummed at them.
that was the moment something in your chest shifted without warning, because watching her like that, surrounded by dogs that trusted her easily has reminded you of something you hadn’t thought about in a long time.
the afternoons when it wasn’t dogs running toward her but you and your sister instead, racing each other without even thinking about it, just habit that had nowhere else to go except forward, toward her presence at the gate every time she came home.
your sister always got there first, you always insisted she cheated somehow even though you never really had proof, and your mother always laughed like it didn’t matter who won because she was already holding both of you anyway, and the memory came back so suddenly that it didn’t feel like remembering, it felt like briefly being placed back inside it without warning.
you kept walking after that, but slower now. your feet just kept moving.
then you found yourself there.
the mailbox.
no, not just one.
mailboxes.
four of them, still standing in the exact same place you remembered. you stopped. your mother stopped beside you too.
the paint had long faded.
you remember your father building these years ago after coming home from working overseas. he insisted on placing them there even when nobody really used mailboxes anymore, even when everyone already knew messages came through phones and calls and things that didn’t require waiting.
you remembered asking him why he still built them anyway, and he had just said something about how people didn’t have enough things to look forward to anymore, how everything arrived too quickly now, how he wanted you and your sister to still know what it felt like to check something every day even if nothing was there most of the time, just the possibility of something.
and for a while, when you were younger, you did.
you checked them constantly when you were younger because there was almost always something waiting inside.
your father loved leaving little letters for you and your sister, sometimes clues leading to surprises he had hidden around the house, sometimes small secrets that only the two of you were supposed to know, and sometimes just random notes because he thought life needed more things to look forward to.
the mailboxes eventually became their own way of communicating. when you and your sister got into arguments and were both too stubborn to apologize face to face, one of you would leave a folded “sorry” inside the other’s mailbox.
back then, there was something about writing things down that made everything softer. things that felt difficult to say out loud somehow became easier once they were folded into an envelope and left waiting for someone you loved to find.
for years, checking those mailboxes became part of your routine. then eventually life filled itself with other things. school. schedules. growing up.
and without ever really deciding to, it just stopped.
you stared at the mailbox with your name still on it, slightly faded but still there, and it felt strange seeing it like that, like looking at a version of yourself that had been waiting in one place while you kept moving forward without realizing you were leaving something behind.
“can i?” you asked without really thinking.
your mother only smiled.
“you still need permission?”
and you rolled your eyes a little, then smiled before reaching for the latch and pulling it open.
and that was when everything stopped, because inside wasn’t empty like you expected it to be, inside were letters, dozens of them stacked messily. your hand stayed still for a second longer than it should have before you even touched anything.
your fingers moved before your thoughts caught up, pulling one out, then another, then another, and all of them had your name written on them, not your mother’s handwriting, not your sister’s, something immediately familiar in a way your body recognized before your mind was willing to accept it.
you swallowed without meaning to.
“…what?” you let out, but it came out quieter than you intended, like your voice had to pass through something before reaching air. your brows were furrowed deeply, because you could clearly remember that there were no letters left there.
your mother leaned slightly closer, not asking, just watching, because she already knew what was happening and was letting you get there on your own anyway.
you turned one of the envelopes over in your hands, noticing the date, realizing it was from years ago, a day you vaguely remembered.
you opened it without planning to, just because your hands were already moving.
the handwriting immediately pulled something in your chest tighter because you knew it without needing to be told.
sophia.
and suddenly everything around you felt slightly blurry, like the present had stepped back just to let the past surface fully. you opened a letter, then another.
they weren’t all the same, some were birthdays, some were holidays, some were just random days that probably didn’t feel important when they were written but somehow mattered enough for her to remember you in them anyway.
it wasn’t dramatic.
but it was overwhelming in a loud way, because it felt like she had been speaking to you across time without expecting an answer. it was as if she had been placing pieces of herself into your life even when you weren’t there to receive them.
your mother then interrupted your thoughts before you could open another envelope.
“dear.”
you looked at her.
“hmm?”
she glanced at the stack of letters still sitting in your hands then toward the house.
“let’s head inside first.”
your eyes dropped back down to the envelopes.
“you can read those later.”
a pause.
“let’s prep that stomach first.”
a small laugh escaped you despite everything.
you were grateful for the interruption because if she hadn’t said anything, you weren’t entirely sure what would’ve happened. and somehow, you knew that she had ideas from the look she had given you.
there were just too many. too many letters. too many versions of sophia sitting inside those envelopes
and for once over the years, you weren’t ready. and you felt your stomach twist and drop.
so you carefully gathered the letters together and followed your mother back home.
.– …. . .-. . .– . -… . –. .. -. .- –. .- .. -.
the house smelled exactly the same. somehow. you didn’t know how but it smelled the way you remembered as a high schooler coming home from school.
your mother immediately shooed you toward the dining table then turned the television on to listen to the news.
“sit.” she hrged you
“ma—”
“you sit.” and so you sat.
because some things never changed.
dinner was simple. rice and curry. it was the kind of food you never realized you missed until it was sitting in front of you again.
you were about to start through your meal when the front door opened.
“ma, i’m home.” your sister.
as footsteps got closer, after that, immediately a thud was heard. your sister had dropped her belongings.
you looked at your mother, like getting her permission to stand and leave the table.
she gave you the look and so you stood.
you just turned around and was quickly met with a deep hug.
you felt how your shoulders got wet as the hug tightened.
she was crying.
you laughed.
“finally remember where you came from?” she spoke between sobs.
your mother laughed. and for a moment everything felt strangely normal. like you hadn’t spent years away. like life hadn’t happened. as if you were in high school again.
like all of you had simply continued a conversation that had only paused yesterday.
the letters remained beside your chair the entire evening.
you tried not to look at them.
but failed.
by the time night arrived, your curiosity had become impossible to ignore. so after saying goodnight, you gathered the stack and made your way upstairs.
.– …. . .-. . .– . -… . –. .. -. .- –. .- .. -.
your old room was exactly how you remembered it, in which somehow felt worse than if it had changed. you opened the balcony doors. the cool night air greeted you immediately and for the first time all day, you were alone.
you laid the letters on the table there.
your fingers found the oldest one and that familiar knot inside your stomach went back.
it was barely three weeks after the breakup.
you opened it and began reading.
—
10/21/20
mahal, i don’t know if you’ll ever read this. honestly, i’m not even sure if this will reach you. your mother might find it first, she might not, or maybe she might call me crazy for putting letters inside a mailbox i don’t even know if you still check. but i’m hoping. i keep replaying our last conversation in my head every single day. and every time i get to the end, i convince myself that maybe if i had said one thing differently, we’d still be together. maybe if i listened more. maybe if i could have understood better, and maybe if i didn’t walked out of your apartment that day.
i know you made your decision. i know i said that i would respect it. and i do, i really do. but i’m still hoping you’ll change your mind because i don’t want us to end like this. i don’t want us to end in the middle. if there’s anything left to fix, i want to fix it. if there’s anything left worth saving, i want to save it.
i still love you. i know that’s probably not helpful but it’s true. and if by some miracle you read this, please call me.
love,
sophia
__
you stared at her last words in the letter for a long time then took a big inhale. the paper meanwhile remained unfolded in your hands. the words stayed exactly where they had always been but somehow they felt heavier now.
because at twenty-five, you never got to read them.
at thirty-one, you finally could.
and that felt cruel somehow.
you carefully folded it back along the original creases before reaching for the next envelope.
the date was only a few weeks later.
—
mahal, this is such a stupid thing to write but i spent almost twenty minutes deciding whether i should tell you about my month, but then i remembered that i used to tell you everything. so i’m telling you anyway.
work has been exhausting. one of my coworkers somehow managed to send the wrong file to an entire client team and we’ve all been dealing with the consequences ever since. i thought about calling you when it happened because i already knew exactly what you would’ve said. you would’ve laughed first, then you would tell me to stop stressing because nobody died, and then i’d pretend i wasn’t smiling.
i honestly miss that. i miss talking to you about absolutely nothing. i miss sending you pictures of random things throughout the day. i miss hearing about your day. i miss knowing what you’re thinking.
it’s really strange. i spent so much time imagining what life would be like with you that now i keep accidentally imagining you’re still here. the other day i bought your favorite snack, didn’t realize it until i got home. it’s still sitting in my pantry and i don’t know what to do with it. sometimes i wish i had chosen my words more carefully that night.
sometimes i wonder if i pushed too hard. sometimes i wonder if i should’ve just held you that night instead. i don’t know. i don’t know anything anymore. i just know that i miss you. and i’m sorry. i’m sorry if everything made you feel like you weren’t enough.
i’m sorry if i ever made you feel small. i’m sorry if the things i did for you felt like a debt to pay. that was never supposed to happen. i miss you so much.
love,
sophia
—
the last few lines were slightly blurred but not enough to make the words unreadable, it was just enough for you to notice. just enough for you to realize she had cried while writing them.
your fingers lingered over the ink for a moment before moving onto the next letter.
—
mahal, i was working near your hometown a few days ago. the site was only about an hour away which is apparently close enough for memories to become a problem. i ended up driving through your neighborhood. i don’t think it was on purpose, at least.
i told myself i was taking a shortcut and we both know that’s a lie.
your street looked pretty much the same. your mother’s plants are still alive somehow. i genuinely think they’re immortal. i sat in my car for a while, just looking like a creep.
it reminded me of the christmas i spent there. do you remember? your mom kept insisting i eat more. your sister kept making fun of me. your dad spent thirty minutes explaining something to me and i’m embarrassed to admit i barely remember what it was.
it was my favorite christmas, i don’t think i ever told you that. i really should have.
i’ve been thinking about dropping this letter off myself. actually, if you’re reading this, then i probably did. which means i finally worked up the courage to drive there a second time. congratulations to me, i guess.
my birthday is next week. it feels weird and i don’t know why. i keep catching myself wondering if you’ll remember. which isn’t fair. i know that. but to wonder is free so :D. and if you do remember, i hope you’re smiling when you think of me. and i really hope you miss me too.
love,
sophia
—
you sat there longer than you meant to after the third letter.
the balcony had gone quiet in a way that didn’t feel peaceful anymore, just suspended, like the world had decided to stop interrupting you for a while and left you alone with everything you were holding.
you didn’t open the next envelope immediately because you knew. you already knew it wouldn’t get easier. it never did.
yet you just kept going anyway.
—
mahal, happy new year. i don’t really know how else to start this one.
i went to see fireworks tonight. i was alone which sounds sad when i write it like that but it wasn’t really. it was just quiet? not my usual new year where its loud.
a part of me thinks that it was probably quiet because i was thinking. i kept thinking about how i used to talk about spending new year somewhere far away, somewhere we could pretend the year behind us didn’t matter anymore. for the new year, i didn’t go anywhere far. i stayed here.
also, i took a photo of your favorite flower. i finally managed to grow it properly in the balcony. i don’t even know if you’ll see this but i’m putting it here anyway, just in case.
love,
sophia
—
the photo was printed and slightly creased, like it had been carried around more than once before being placed inside the envelope.
you held it carefully without turning it over yet. the flower was simple and familiar. too familiar.
you moved on to the next letter.
—
mahal, i watched a movie today. it reminded me of you so much it was actually annoying. i kept waiting for you to say something beside me since you always talked during movies.
i liked hearing you react to things. i liked how you saw perspective in movies differently from me.
there was a scene where the main character leaves and i just sat there thinking about how many times i’ve replayed our last conversation in my head. it doesn’t change. no matter how many times i try not to, it always ends the same. the thoughts of changing my words that night just keeps on adding up, one sentence to another.
i miss you so much, it’s starting to hurt physically.
love,
sophia
—
the next envelope was thinner.
your fingers hesitated before opening it.
—
mahal, work has been too much lately. i didn’t sleep properly for three days straight. my friends told me to rest but i don’t know how to. pero it’s real funny since i used to tell you everything when things got like this. you used to sit with me even when i was just complaining about things that didn’t really matter.
i hope you’re okay. i hope you’re taking care of yourself. and i just really wish you were here, that’s all. i miss you.
love,
sophia
—
the pattern started to feel familiar now and not in a comforting way, it was in a way that made your chest tighten more each time you recognized it.
and still you kept going.
—
mahal, happy valentine’s day. i don’t have a date. obviously. that sounds like a joke but it isn’t really. i really thought i would be okay by now. i thought it would get easier, but it doesn’t get closer to better.
i saw couples earlier holding hands and i had to leave the place because it felt too loud and mostly because i started missing you the longer i looked and watched them.
i keep telling myself i should move on properly, but i don’t know what that even means anymore.
i don’t want anyone else. that’s the problem. i don’t think i could ever will.
love,
sophia
—
the ink on this one looked slightly smudged, like it had been touched too many times before drying.
you swallowed before moving on.
—
mahal, i drank tonight. i don’t usually drink, you know that. i didn’t liked the taste, not even for a bit. but my friends kept insisting and i thought maybe it would help forget about you. it didn’t!!!!!!!
it just made me think about you louder. i kept waiting for the feeling to change into something lighter and it didn’t. The alcohol helped me remember your face much more clearly, and by surprise! orr not? i liked seeing your face in my mind. i really missed that. and so! the whole time i drank was just me thinking of you. i thought of our dates, kiss, talks, arguments, and most importantly! i thought of you. i miss you so much. i don’t want to say i love you to you in this letter because that would feel so intimate for me. part of the reason i don’t want to is because we’re not together anymore. but who can stop me?
i’m really sorry if this disappoints you. i just needed to say your name somewhere.
loving you still,
sophia
—
you stopped for a second after that one, your fingers tightened around the paper.
because it was the first time you noticed something subtle in all of this. sophia didn’t sound like someone falling apart terribly. she sounded like someone trying very hard not to, and failing anyway.
and for some reason her words felt ironic, she said she didn’t want to tell you she loves you because it would feel intimate, yet she has been calling you “mahal” in all her letters.
—
mahal, i just want to be honest. i think i’m starting to understand something i didn’t want to accept before.
loving you and waiting for you aren’t the same thing. i treated them like they were. i don’t think that was fair to either of us, because i still love you. and honestly, i think i always will in some way.
but i can’t keep building my life around a door that might never open. i think i’m going to try and stop waiting. i don’t know how yet. but i’m going to try.
love,
sophia
—
you sat still for a long time after this one, longer than the others.
you didn’t move for a while after that letter.
the paper stayed in your hands but you weren’t really holding it anymore the way you had been earlier.
now it just sat there loosely, like your grip had forgotten what it was supposed to do.
your chest felt strange in a way you couldn’t immediately name. not pain exactly. not sadness in the way you expected sadness to feel.
it was something slower and heavier. like your body was only now realizing it had been breathing through something for a very long time without noticing.
you looked down at the letters again.
all of them.
stacked like they had been waiting patiently for years for you to finally become the version of yourself who could read them without breaking in real time.
you weren’t sure if you were that person.
—
i think i’m starting to understand what i did wrong. not in a blaming way. but like, you know? in a clearer way. i think i kept loving you in ways i only understood and i thought like love alone was enough to hold us in place. like if i loved you harder, longer, or even more consistently, then nothing would go wrong.
but that’s not how it works. you needed time and i think i kept standing in it, waiting. that’s on me i know you didn’t ask me to wait, you actually told me not to, in your own way.
i keep thinking about that last conversation. how you looked at me like you were already somewhere far away even though you were still sitting right next to me. and it hurts to think this, but i think i’ve lost you even before you left.
when i realized you were already gone while still being there, i didn’t know how to explain that feeling to anyone else without sounding like i’m being dramatic. but you would understand. you always understood things i couldn’t say properly. that’s what makes this harder, because now i have to understand them alone.
—
you had to stop reading for a second, your hand pressed flat against your own stomach without you realizing it. there was a dull ache there, not sharp enough to name as pain, but constant enough that it made sitting still feel uncomfortable.
you swallowed.
your throat felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with tears yet.
you just kept going anyway.
the next envelope felt slightly different.
thicker again.
you already knew what that meant now. more days, more versions of her you hadn’t met.
—
august has been… difficult. i don’t know how else to put it. i tried to stop writing to you for a while, i really did. i thought maybe if i stopped putting you into words, i would slowly stop putting you into everything else too. it didn’t work.
i still think of you when i wake up.
i still think of you when i come home.
i still think of you when something good happens and my first instinct is to tell you before i remember i can’t.
i’m trying to move forward, i am. but some days it feels like i’m just learning how to live without something that used to be part of how i breathe.
i think i need to stop hoping you’ll come back, because it’s starting to hurt me physically.
—
your fingers paused on the paper. because that sentence didn’t feel like something written. it felt like something admitted. something someone only says when they’re already tired of holding it inside themselves.
you didn’t realize your eyes were stinging until you blinked and the blur didn’t go away.
you kept reading through it anyway.
—
i still love you, but i think i need to learn how to love you without waiting for you. and i don’t know if i can do that yet. but i’m going to try.
—
the paper slipped slightly in your hands. you adjusted it without thinking.
your fingers felt colder now than they had before.
you weren’t crying yet.
but your body was starting to prepare for it, like it understood something your mind was still resisting.
you opened the next letter.
and this time, before even reading the first line, you already felt the distance growing inside it.
not between words.
between versions of her.
—
mahal, i met someone. i didn’t expect to, because i wasn’t looking. i promise you that. it just happened. she’s kind. she listens. she doesn’t interrupt when i talk too much, like you. she makes me laugh in a way i haven’t in a long time. but she does make me laugh too the way you do.
but i hate how guilty that makes me feel. because part of me feels like i’m doing something wrong just by moving forward. like i’m betraying a version of myself that was still waiting for you.
but i’m really tired.
—
your stomach tightened slightly at that.
—
i don’t know what this means yet, i don’t know what i’m allowed to feel. but i know i can’t keep standing in the same place forever. they tell me those words too.
—
you stopped reading again.
your eyes drifted toward the remaining stack of letters beside you. they were smaller now, much smaller than before.
and somehow you hated that. you hated that your first reaction wasn’t relief.
it should’ve been relief.
my god, it should’ve been.
because every letter felt like reopening a wound you spent six years convincing yourself had already scarred over, every page making you relive moments that didn’t belong to you anymore, moments sophia had already survived years ago while you were only experiencing them now.
yet all you could think was
that’s it?
and the realization made you feel sick.
because what kind of person gets disappointed that there aren’t more letters from the woman who spent years teaching herself how to live without them?
for the first time since opening that mailbox, you finally understood what was happening to you.
the life you built after sophia wasn’t some grand act of moving on.
it wasn’t healing.
it wasn’t closure.
it was adaptation.
somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-one, you had built something around the absence of her without even realizing you were doing it. slowly and quietly. the way people rearrange furniture after someone moves out.
at first you noticed every empty space, every missing thing and every silence.
then one day you just stopped noticing. and then one day after that, the silence became normal. the absence became routine. the routine became a life. and somehow that life became stable enough that you stopped questioning it.
you had gotten yourself used to it.
so why now? why this? why did six years of carefully maintained distance collapse because of a mailbox?
because of a letter? because of words written by someone who had already moved on? you couldn’t process it.
not the way you usually processed things.
because this wasn’t something you ever allowed yourself to prepare for. you prepared for everything. that was how you survived. every possibility carefully organized before it happened. every conversation rehearsed. every disappointment anticipated. every version of what if dissected before life could ever spring it on you unexpectedly.
if you could predict the pain, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much when it arrived.
that was always the plan.
but this? this wasn’t part of the plan.
this wasn’t supposed to exist.
these letters weren’t supposed to be waiting for you six years later. they weren’t supposed to arrive after you’ve learned forcing yourself how to breathe without her.
and the problem wasn’t the letters.
it was what they were undoing.
because every page felt like someone carefully digging beneath a foundation you spent years building.
loosening the ground. lifting things you deliberately buried.
why was sophia so unfair?
the thought came suddenly. sharp enough to surprise you.
why would she do this?
why would she write all of this?
why would she leave them behind?
you wanted to be angry. you really did. because anger would’ve been easier. easier than grief. easier than guilt. easier than whatever this was.
she could’ve kept them.
could’ve hidden them somewhere.
could’ve thrown them away.
could’ve burned them.
could’ve done anything except leave them somewhere you might someday find them.
because now all the things you’d spent six years suppressing were rising back up. waiting exactly where you left them. and then, somewhere between one breath and the next, you finally understood why you’d been silent all these years.
it wasn’t because you had nothing to say.
it was because you knew exactly what would happen if you started.
you knew how much it would hurt.
you knew how quickly it would come back.
you knew once you opened that door, you wouldn’t know how to close it again.
and now here you were, reading everything
somehow that hurt more than the breakup itself. because this time you weren’t living through it. you were watching it happen. paper by paper. month by month. year by year. in reverse.
—
hey, so, i met someone. i said that already in one of the last letters but this feels different now. it doesn’t feel like an accident anymore. it feels like something i stopped resisting. her name is victoria. i didn’t plan for this. i really didn’t. i thought if i just kept everything in place long enough, i would eventually find my way back to you or you would find your way back to me. but nothing moved and i think i finally understand that waiting for something that isn’t coming is still a choice. and i choose not to wait anymore.
—
you forced yourself to keep reading.
—
she doesn’t ask me to explain myself all the time and i didn’t realize how exhausting it was to constantly be half in one place and half in another until i stopped doing it. i feel somehow lighter. because i think part of me believed that if i ever felt okay again, it would mean i stopped loving you properly. but i don’t think i have yet? i just don’t know where to put that love anymore.
—
your throat tightened slightly, just enough that swallowing felt like effort again.
you turned to another paper too quickly.
—
i think i’m happy. i don’t even know if you’ll ever read this.
—
you pressed your fingers against the edge of the envelope without realizing it was shaking slightly.
you hadn’t noticed that before.
the next letters were became different.
it wasn’t written like a normal letter anymore. it was a collection. dates. short entries.
—
she made me laugh so hard i forgot what i was thinking about earlier. i think that’s new for me.
—
—
i don’t talk about you out loud. not because i’m hiding it. i just don’t know how to explain it anymore without sounding like i’m still stuck there.
—
you read faster now.
—
we went to a small trip. i caught myself enjoying it without feeling guilty. the guilty feeling doesn’t show up now. that’s great.
—
—
i think i’m okay. i think i’ve been okay for longer than i admitted to myself. and i think that means i have to stop treating myself like i’m still waiting for you.
—
your chest didn’t fully rise the way it should have.
—
i met her family again. they asked me if i see a future with her. i said yes because i really do.
and somehow, i think i’m only writing to you now because we were friends before we got into the relationship. i think, i somehow want to preserve that friendship?
—
and then, nothing. no more entries. no more holidays spent writing your name. no more letters folded carefully into envelopes.
you looked inside the envelope but there was nothing.
and strangely enough, you were grateful for that.
because for the first time that night, you didn’t think about yourself. you were thinking about the other girl. about the woman who came after you. the woman who loved sophia after all the waiting was over.
the woman who stayed.
and suddenly you realized how painful it would’ve been if the letters had continued. if sophia had kept writing to you while building a life with someone else. if she had kept setting pieces of herself aside for you while asking another person to hold the rest.
that would’ve been cruel.
.– …. . .-. . .– . -… . –. .. -. .- –. .- .. -.
you didn't mean to fall asleep on the balcony. one moment you were sitting upright, letters scattered around you like evidence of a crime scene you hadn't known you’ve been a part of.
the next thing you knew, the sky had shifted into something darker and your cheek were pressed against the cold metal of the table. you hadn't slept so much as passed out from exhaustion. your body finally making a decision your mind couldn't.
when you woke, your eyes were swollen and your throat felt likesandpaper. you didn't remember crying but your face was wet and the pillow beneath her head had a damp patch the size of your fist.
you sat up slowly.
the letters were still there.
of course they were.
you gathered them without thinking, your hands moving on their own, stacking them back into the order you’d somehow memorized without trying.
and then she just sat there, looking at them, watching the morning light catch the edges of the paper.
you should throw them away.
that’s what you should do.
but instead, you slipped them back into their envelopes and stood up, your joints stiff from sleeping on a chair.
you walked downstairs, your feet familiar with every step even after all these years. tge house was quiet. your mother was in the kitchen, her back turned, stirring something
"i’m going to put these back," you said.
your mother didn't turn around. “mhm."
you walked out the front door, your bare feet remembering the path even if your mind had forgotten. the mailboxes stood where they'd always stood, unchanged except for the paint that had aged alongside everything else.
you opened the one with your name on it and placed the envelopes back inside.
every single one.
you closed the latch and stood there for a moment, like you were closing something that couldn't be reopened. then you went back inside.
your mother was waiting at the dining table when you returned. There was food in front of her, egg, bacon, and some kind of fried rice that smelled like home in a way that made your chest ache.
"sit," your mother said.
you sat.
your mother watched you . It wasn't the kind of watching that demanded anything. It was the kind that simply waited.
"you look tired."
"im fine."
"you look like you've been crying."
"i wasn’t —"
"your eyes are swollen."
your mother reached across the table and placed her hand over yours. it was warm and rough and everything she remembered from childhood except now the roughness felt different. like time had written itself into her mother's skin.
"are you okay?" you swallowed.
"yes." your mother didn't move.
"are you really okay?”
the "yeah" caught in your throat that time. you could feel it rising, that thing you'd been holding down since yesterday since before yesterday since six years ago, and you pushed it back down the way you’d always pushed it back down.
"yes, ma. i’m okay."
your mother studied you for a long moment.
Then she released her hand and stood up.
“come with me."
.– …. . .-. . .– . -… . –. .. -. .- –. .- .. -.
your mother's room hadn't changed.
It was the same bed, the same curtains, the same wooden rosary hanging from the lamp. but there was something different now. something in the way her mother moved toward her dresser, the way her hands hesitated before opening the bottom drawer.
"mom, what—"
your mother pulled out an envelope.
not a letter envelope. a different one. larger. heavier. there was something inside it that made the paper bend in a way that felt deliberate.
“this was left here for you.”
your mother’s voice was gentle and careful.
the kind people used when they already knew something was going to hurt. you looked down.
an envelope rested in her hands. your name was printed neatly across the front, not handwritten.
you didn’t reach for it.
you didn’t want to.
your mother seemed to understand. she simply walked over to the dresser and placed it there before quietly leaving the room.
the door clicked shut behind her.
and suddenly it was just you.
you and the envelope. you stared at it for a long time. long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable.
you could leave it there.
you could walk away.
you had done it before.
you had spent six years walking away from things that hurt. six years convincing yourself that some doors were better left unopened.
this could be one of them.
but your feet never moved and eventually your hands did what your heart had been afraid of doing all night.
you picked it up. the paper felt heavier than it should have.
inside was a card. simple and white.
the kind of invitation people kept in memory boxes for decades. your stomach dropped before you even started reading.
and somehow, deep down, you already knew. you really knew. you just didn’t know how much it would hurt to be right.
you opened it.
—
you are cordially invited to the wedding of
sophia laforteza
and
victoria chase
—
you read it once. then again. then a third time.
all you could do was stare. because it wasn’t the wedding. not really. it wasn’t even about victoria. it was what the invitation meant.
not the version you’d been reading through the letters. not the woman who spent years writing your name on paper because she didn’t know where else to put it.
that version of sophia was gone.
she had been gone for long.
you were not aware of it until just now.
something tightened painfully inside your chest and then suddenly breathing felt harder than it should have.
because for a long time you told yourself that this would’ve made you happy. you told yourself that if sophia found someone, you’d be relieved. you told yourself that if she got married one day, you’d smile and genuinely wish her well.
and maybe you would’ve.
if this had been the first thing you’d found.
if nothing had arrived by itself.
but it didn’t.
instead, you spent an entire night reading six years worth of loving.
the years worth of hoping.
the years worth of missing.
you watched her wait.
you watched her grieve.
you watched her slowly teach herself how to live without you.
and somewhere along the way, against your better judgment, your hopes started growing too. you didn’t want them to.
god, you didn’t.
but they did anyway.
with every letter.
with every “i miss you”’s.
with every birthday greeting.
with every holiday she spent writing to someone who wasn’t there.
some small, selfish part of you kept looking for a different ending. one where neither of you moved on. one where timing finally became kind.
one where the years somehow brought you back to each other. and now that hope was sitting in your hands, printed on expensive cardstock, being quietly put to rest.
the first tear fell before you noticed it.
then another.
then another again.
until suddenly it wasn’t tears anymore. it became grief. raw and ugly and years overdue.
your knees gave out before you could stop them. you sank onto the floor beside the bed, the invitation clenched tightly in your hands. and for the first time in six years,
you let yourself cry.
not the quiet crying you’ve been doing. not the kind you hid inside showers. or behind locked doors. or beneath the busy schedules and unfinished work.
this was different. this was everything.
all at once.
every excuse. every distraction. every lie you told yourself. it all came rushing back at once.
because the truth was,
you missed her.
you never stopped missing her.
you just became better at carrying it.
and now the weight was finally breaking.
the sob that left your chest barely sounded human. it hurt. actually hurt.
your chest felt tight. your stomach twisted. your throat burned and no amount of breathing seemed enough.
you didn’t know how long you sat there. you weren’t keeping track anymore. all you knew was that at some point the bedroom door opened.
and suddenly your mother was there. she didn’t ask questions. she didn’t tell you to calm down. she didn’t tell you everything would be okay. she simply sat beside you and pulled you into her arms.
and somehow that made everything worse.
because she wasn’t trying to stop your grief. she was letting you have it.
“why?” you choked out between sobs.
your hands trembling against the invitation.
“i endured it for six years.”
your voice cracked.
“i really did.”
another sob tore through you.
“s-so why can’t i endure it now?”
your mother didn’t answer. she just held you tighter. and for some reason that hurt more than any words could have.
because she knew.
she knew there was no answer. only grief.
“i missed her.”
the confession came out broken. small, pathetic, and honest.
“i missed her so much.”
your face disappeared into your mother’s shoulder.
“and i kept telling myself i didn’t.”
your breathing shook.
“i told myself i was fine.”
another sob.
“i told myself i made the right choice.”
you couldn’t continue, because every ugly truth you’d buried for six years was finally clawing its way back up.
the unsent messages.
the nights spent overworking yourself just for exhaustion to win.
the moments you almost called.
the moments you almost went back.
the moments you secretly wished she’d somehow still be there.
none of it had disappeared.
you had simply buried it well.
“i wanted her to wait.”
the words left before you could stop them and immediately you hated yourself for saying them.
because they were selfish. so unbearably selfish.
you really did wanted to be selfish.
“i wanted her to wait for me.”
your shoulders shook.
“but that wasn’t fair.”
you cried harder.
“it wasn’t fair to her.” because sophia deserved a life.
she deserved happiness and you wanted that for her. she deserved a future that wasn’t constantly postponed for someone who was still climbing.
you knew that. you had always known that.
which somehow made this hurt even more.
because sophia had done everything right.
she had loved you. she had let you go.
and eventually, she had let herself be happy. there was nobody to blame and that was the cruelest part.
because grief is easier when someone is at fault.
but this? this was just timing.
it’s just two people who wanted the same future at different moments in their lives.
and no matter how much you cried,
that was never going to change.
because she had moved on.
she found someone else.
she built a life without you in it.
and somehow that wasn’t the part that hurt the most because you always knew this day would come.
you weren’t naive enough to think sophia would spend the rest of her life waiting for someone who had asked her not to.
if anything, you had hoped she found someone. you had hoped she found the life she always talked about.
you wanted those things for her long before she stopped wanting them with you.
so why did it hurt so much?
and suddenly you understood.
it wasn’t because she moved on. it was because you had just watched her do it.
in the span of a few hours, you had witnessed the years spent of loving, grieving, hoping, waiting, healing, and eventually choosing someone else.
you watched her miss you.
you watched her cry over you.
you watched her write your name over and over again like saying it enough times might somehow bring you back.
you watched her slowly stop building a future around you.
and somehow, that felt cruel.
not because she did it.
because you had to see it happen.
all at once.
your younger self never got those letters. never saw the nights she spent writing them. never knew about the birthdays, the holidays, the random afternoons when she missed you so much that she needed to put it somewhere.
but you knew now.
and that knowledge sat heavily inside your chest.
you wanted to be angry at her.
for leaving them here.
for not taking them back.
for not throwing them away once she no longer needed them.
because what was the point?
what was the point of leaving almost six years of her life behind for you to find?
you respected her peace.
you never called. never reached out. never tried to reopen a door that had already closed.
so why couldn’t she have done the same?
did she know how hard this was?
did she know what it felt like to read someone love you for years after you were already gone?
to watch them slowly stop?
to reach the end of the letters and realize the version of sophia that loved you most had disappeared long before you ever got the chance to meet her again?
the thought made your chest tighten.
because deep down, beneath all the frustration and confusion and hurt, there was something even harder to admit.
your hopes had grown.
you didn’t want them to.
you really didn’t.
but they had.
with every letter, some small part of you kept expecting a different ending. something impossible. something unreasonable.
a part of you had started looking for signs that she never truly let go.
that maybe there was still a version of this story where neither of you ended up alone.
and now you felt stupid for it.
because sophia had already reached the final page, you were the only one who had just started reading.
and now, there was a wedding that happened just a week before you got here.
—
the cruel irony was life had brought the both of you back to the same place.
sophia was yet again standing at the next chapter of her life, ready to move forward.
and just like six years ago, you found yourself looking up from where you stood, watching her arrive somewhere you couldn’t be.
——
at thirty-one, sophia was grieving the life she was so used to with you.
now, at thirty-one, you were grieving the life you would never have with her.
𑣲⋆ sophia can't get you out of her head, she wants you more than she likes to admit— it's a good thing she can't read right through you, because she's all you've ever wanted for months.
sophia laforteza x fem!reader ㆍ explicit sexual content ㆍ thigh riding ㆍ spit shot ㆍ mutual teasing ㆍ slight jealousy ㆍ not proofread [mdni]
❛ you can bet that i know what a girl wants
A/N || oh my god hi, i swear i'll write more i just need motivation and some really good reqs. kisses, brooklynn.
sophia was someone who got along with everyone but you.
she’d purposely go out of her way to avoid all interaction if she could— except you seemed to linger wherever she was.
it wasn’t that you'd done anything, she didn't even dislike you, there was just something about you that drew her in so immensely that she resented you for even igniting that type of reaction from her.
she had always been able to keep her composure, but you'd been interfering, and she didn’t like that very much.
the party lights were low— purple, blue, and red switching occasionally while people danced and cheered, some cups empty and some half full.
you walked along the unpolished floors, heels clicking under your feet.
sophia had already spotted you the moment you entered, she didn't even need to look— she did, of course, for 'confirmation', she’d convinced herself.
but it was for herself, no matter how many times she’d choose to deny the plain fact.
you danced against someone's body— sensually, meticulously, precisely curated just enough, so that you could catch her attention.
it’s all you wanted.
and sophia took notice, her eyes sharpening when she recognized the girl who stood too closely behind, watching her hands wrap around your front like you were right where you wanted to be.
you didn’t need to look up to see her staring, you could feel it, you always could. your hips swayed along to the music, hands reaching behind to wrap around her neck.
sophia's fists tightened around the unopened bottle she grabbed off the side.
with four quick strides she broke you off the other, hands tugging at your wrists to lead you elsewhere.
you followed willingly, a soft smile indicating that you were, in fact, exactly where you wanted to be.
her hands tilted your head back slightly,
“open,” she commanded, voice stern and free from anything unserious. you did as told, parting your glossed lips and watching as her fingers slid over the glass bottle. she turned the top off, her other free hand reaching up to firmly hold onto your jaw— perfectly poised fingers with the prettiest manicured nails resting on your face.
your breath hitched, her face was only inches from yours.
you could kiss.
you should.
sophia’s head tilted back, the clear liquid falling into her mouth with ease. she didn’t waste any time, she poured the liquid from her mouth into yours, her thumb rubbing part of your lower lip.
once she’d finished, her hand pushed your jaw closed, her head dipping down in order for you to hear her. “swallow,”
you did as told, your throat moving to indicate that you had, the girl releasing a satisfied hum. “you're a lot more open than i thought,” she whispered without explaining further, she knew you understood exactly what she meant.
“i think leaving you alone did me a few good favours,” you adjusted the straps on your tank top, straightening yourself out while she stood in front of you.
“favours?” she inquired, her eyes taking you in for longer than usual.
you grabbed the bottle and a small shot glass, your heels clicking against the hardwood floors with every shift of movement.
“lots of them,” you added on, sauntering down the hall and away from the girl who was standing there dumbfounded.
sophia moved just as quickly as you had, her voice calling out for you from behind, “what kinds of favours?”
you smiled even though she couldn’t see it, your hip pushing open a door — the room was dimly lit but nobody had occupied it yet.
you set the bottle and glass down on the small nightstand, turning to face a puzzled sophia.
“why are you asking me like you don’t know?” you asked, sophia thought about it for a moment, she wasn’t having your smart tone, “i don’t know. why don't you show me.”
you blinked, her words registering. “you want me to show you?”
“was i not clear enough?”
you pushed sophia back on a cushioned chair, “oh you were clear, alright.” your thumbs hooked into your belt loops, pulling your jeans even lower, shimmying them until your lace panties were in view— stark ruby red lace presented itself in front of sophia, the band being the only thing she was able to view.
her breath hitched, “what are you doing?”
you only smiled, “sorry, what was that about being clear?”
her lips parted slightly, head gesturing for you to continue. you straddled her lap, straightening up on your knees while sophia sank into the cushion, your waist touching her lips— almost.
sophia subconsciously leaned in closer, her fingers coming up to grab onto your hips with soft, firm hands.
“you want it?”
sophia nodded, “yea, i want it.”
“you need it that bad?”
“yes,”
you settled in her lap, hands stretching out to the bottle, popping off the loose lid. the liquid splashed into the small shot glass, her eyes paying attention to you rather than the clear drink.
“tip your head back,” you whispered, watching the girl follow your orders.
sophia let her head fall back, parting her lips without needing further guidance— a result of her 'newfound' infatuation.
the liquid poured down her throat, sophia swallowing as it went. your fingers rested under her chin, tipping it up to close her mouth, shot glass set back down onto the small table.
“i need it too,” your nail dragged down her body, stopping in the middle— hands bringing themselves to your body instead, fingertips unzipping and unbuttoning denim, hands helping the material off your waist.
sophia didn’t remove her eyes from you, bottom lip tucked under her teeth while she watched.
the jeans fell to the floor but you didn’t stop, your fingers slid the red lace right off your hips.
“open your hand,”
sophia offered an open palm, the fabric dropping right into them. “hold these for me?”
she groaned in response, you hadn't done much and sophia's mind was reeling— more than it should’ve been, she'd acknowledged, but she couldn’t find a reason to step back.
now bare, your body lowered onto sophia's thigh— skin to skin, your eyes taking in hers, your hips rolling and rubbing against her.
sophia brought her hands to your waist, adding pressure, enough to remind you that she was very much present but not enough to fix your pace.
you bit onto your lip, leaning forward, your lips ghosting by her ear. “what’s wrong, you're pretty quiet for someone who was acting all too cocky minutes ago.”
another shift, sophia’s head tilted back.
“hm?” you teased, the rolling only quickening.
sophia shook her head, “i asked, i’m just appreciating it. i want you to use me.”
your lips curved upwards, finger pulling at her lower lip, “you don't have to stay so quiet baby,”
sophia's breath caught, “you're right, move your fucking hips for me.”
you laughed at her words, hips moving forward, soft sounds spilling from even softer lips.
sophia didn’t avert her gaze, eyes stuck on the way your head tilted and the tank strap tipped off your shoulder.
obscene sounds filled the room, your hips bucked faster, chasing what you'd been dying for.
“please,” you whispered, begging for what she knew you wanted.
what you both wanted.
sophia kissed behind your ear, “aww look who needs it now” she teased, moving your hips with more intensity. you couldn’t take it anymore, your breath quickening every other second.
though sophia couldn't be cruel, she didn’t even have it in her to try. “go ahead,”
her words made your legs shiver, a leaking mess left on her thigh and a satisfied gasp escaping your lips.
“i need to show you again sometime,” you added, panting to regain your composure.
“you know where to find me.” sophia chuckled, while you sat on her trying to recollect yourself again.
pairing݁: older sophia laforteza x younger f!reader
genre: slight angst(?) fluff if u squint
— this was inspired by an au i saw on tiktok ^^
spring came and went. then summer. then another year.
for a while, you kept expecting your life to pause somewhere in between. not forever. just long enough for you to catch your breath and understand what had happened.
life had a way of continuing regardless of whether you were ready for it. bills still arrived. birthdays still came around. friends moved cities, changed jobs, got married. people you hadn’t spoken to in years suddenly appeared on your social media feed holding babies or standing beside houses they had spent years saving for. time moved quietly like that. not in dramatic leaps, but through ordinary days stacked on top of each other until one morning you looked up and realized another season had passed.
you were twenty-five when you let sophia go.
she was thirty-one.
at the time, six years felt enormous.
not because of the number itself, but because of where the two of you stood in life.
sophia already knew what she wanted.
she had spent years building a life she was proud of. she liked her work. she had routines. she knew which grocery store she preferred, which coffee she ordered on stressful mornings, which neighborhood she wanted to live in five years from now. she talked about the future casually, as if it were something she expected to arrive.
and every time she spoke about it, you were there.
never in a way that felt forced.
you simply appeared in her plans naturally.
a vacation next year.
a larger apartment someday.
a dog she insisted would sleep in the bed no matter how much you complained.
a kitchen with enough space for two people to cook without bumping into each other.
you used to listen to her talk and smile.
then later, when she wasn’t looking, you would wonder what it felt like to be that certain.
because while sophia was building a future, you were still trying to survive the present.
you were working long hours. saving whatever money you could. helping where you were needed. worrying about things people with stability rarely thought about. sometimes it felt like your entire life revolved around making sure next month would be slightly easier than this one.
you loved sophia.
that part had never been difficult.
the difficult part was believing you belonged beside someone like her.
sophia paid for dinners.
movie tickets.
weekend trips.
little things she picked up because they reminded her of you.
she never made a big deal out of it. most of the time she acted as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
you would thank her.
she would shrug.
then she would kiss your cheek and ask what you wanted for dessert.
for sophia, those moments ended there.
for you, they didn’t.
you carried them home.
you thought about them while brushing your teeth before bed.
while checking your bank account.
while trying to calculate how many extra shifts it would take to buy her something equally meaningful.
it wasn’t that sophia expected repayment.
she never did.
the problem was that somewhere deep inside you, love and debt had become tangled together long before you met her.
growing up poor changed the way you understood generosity.
when money was scarce, nothing ever felt free.
every favor came with sacrifice.
every kindness had a cost someone else absorbed.
you learned early to notice those costs.
and once you learned, it became impossible to stop noticing them.
so when sophia spent money on you, your mind automatically began calculating.
how much was it?
how could you return it?
when could you return it?
what did you owe now?
it exhausted you.
eventually, it exhausted her too.
the conversation happened on an ordinary evening.
years later, you wouldn’t remember what movie had been playing in the background or what the two of you had eaten for dinner.
you only remembered sophia sitting beside you on the couch with her legs tucked underneath her, absentmindedly scrolling through apartment listings on her phone.
she did that sometimes.
not because she was planning to move immediately.
she just liked imagining the future.
“look at this one.”
you glanced at the screen.
a house designed to let natural air and light dance inside.
a kitchen bigger than both of your current apartments combined.
you laughed.
“that’s one big house, who can even fill that up?”
“we can.”
“we?”
sophia looked up.
then smiled.
the kind of smile that should’ve made you feel warm.
instead, something in your chest tightened.
“we.”
she set her phone down.
there was no nervousness.
no grand speech. no rehearsed confession.
just certainty. as though the answer had always been obvious.
“will you marry me?”
for a second, you genuinely thought you had misheard her.
the room was quiet.
the television continued playing somewhere in the background.
sophia waited.
patiently.
because she wasn’t asking out of impulse.
she had already made her decision long ago.
the only thing left was yours.
you looked at her.
at the woman you loved more than anyone.
and instead of happiness, fear arrived first.
not because you didn’t want to marry her.
god, you did.
that was the problem.
you wanted it so badly that all you could think about was everything that would happen after.
your parents and the siblings you had that were still studying.
the responsibilities.
the future.
the fact that sophia was already standing where you were still trying to reach.
you looked down at your hands that wasbeing held by hers.
and sophia’s smile slowly faded.
“you have your life built already,” you said quietly.
you remember the confusion on her face more clearly than anything else.
“what?”
“you’re ready to settle.”
you swallowed.
“but i’m not, soph.”
from there, the entire conversation flows naturally.
because now the heartbreak isn’t that y/n doesn’t love sophia.
it’s that the one thing they’ve both wanted is finally being offered, and y/n still can’t say yes.
for a moment she said nothing.
then she asked why.
and because you had been carrying the answer for so long, it came out all at once.
you told her she already had her life together while you were still trying to figure yours out. you told her you wanted to finish everything—problems that has been going inside your life before settling down. that you were scared of becoming someone who skipped entire chapters of their own life because they were trying too hard to catch up to someone else’s.
sophia listened.
really listened.
but as the conversation continued, something changed in her expression.
not anger but something quieter. something tired.
“you don’t let me do anything for you,” you said.
she blinked.
“what are you talking about?”
“you pay for everything.”
“because i want to.”
“you buy me things.”
“because i love you.”
the answer came so quickly that it almost made you angry. because to her it was simple. but to you it never had been.
“sophia… my current situation at this point in my life isn’t something you deserve. you deserve to receive what you offer.”
the discussion went in circles after that. the same points repeated in different forms. until finally sophia leaned back against the couch and rubbed her face.
you had never seen her look so exhausted.
“let go of your pride,” she said softly. you remember flinching at the word. pride.
because pride wasn’t what it felt like. pride sounded arrogant. this felt closer to fear.
“no, it’s not pride that’s saying all these. it’s all me. because every act of love feels like something i have to pay back,” you admitted while that made sophia stare at you.
“then stop treating my love like a debt.”
you wanted to.
god, you wanted to.
but wanting and knowing how were two different things. so you told her the truth. that growing up poor had taught you to keep score even when nobody else was counting. that you didn’t know how to accept help without feeling guilty. that every kindness sat heavily on your shoulders. that sometimes you loved her so much it terrified you because you couldn’t understand why someone like her would choose someone like you.
when you finished speaking, the room was quiet.
sophia looked at you for a long time.
then she said the one thing you still remembered years later.
“i don’t know how to convince you anymore.”
at twenty-five, you thought the relationship ended because you weren’t enough.
at thirty-one, you understood it differently.
you weren’t failing her.
and she wasn’t failing you.
the two of you were simply standing in different places, looking toward different horizons.
sophia was ready for permanence.
you were still trying to discover who you were.
neither of those things were wrong. they were just incompatible.
for a while after the breakup, you spent years replaying every conversation in your head.
wondering if there had been another choice. wondering whether a different version of yourself would’ve stayed.
eventually those questions stopped appearing. not because you found answers. but because life slowly gave you new things to think about.
new jobs.
new friendships.
new responsibilities.
new versions of yourself.
and then one day you woke up thirty-one.
the same age sophia had been.
it happened quietly.
there was no sudden revelation.
just an ordinary birthday surrounded by people who cared about you.
yet sometime during that year, you found yourself thinking about her more often.
not because you missed her. at least not in the way you used to.
you thought about her because for the first time, you understood her.
you understood what it felt like to look years ahead. to imagine a future and instinctively leave space for another person inside it. you understood why she had sounded so tired during that final conversation. why she had wanted so badly for you to believe her.
because now there were people in your life you would gladly inconvenience yourself for. people you would spend money on without expecting anything back. people whose happiness mattered simply because it was theirs. and for the first time, you understood that maybe sophia had felt the same way about you.
sometimes, late at night, she crossed your mind.
usually during small moments.
while washing dishes.
while sitting in your car during traffic.
while walking through furniture stores and noticing a dining table she would’ve liked.
the thoughts never stayed long.
they simply appeared and disappeared like old songs remembered for a few seconds before fading again.
you wondered what her life looked like now.
not enough to search for her.
not enough to interrupt whatever peace the two of you had found separately.
just enough to think that maybe she was married.
maybe she finally got the dog she wanted to watch sit like a human on the sofa.
maybe she had children she wanted to greet and make breakfast for every morning.
maybe she still drank the same coffee every morning that she wanted to be made just for her.
maybe she lived in the house she used to describe whenever she talked about the future and wanted to grow a family in.
you didn’t know. and surprisingly, you didn’t need to. because somewhere along the way, your curiosity stopped coming from longing.
it came from affection.
the kind that remains after love has finished asking for anything.
you hoped she was happy. not in a grand, cinematic way. just happy in the way she wanted to be.
comfortable.
safe.
content.
surrounded by people who appreciated how much she gave. the same way you hoped she would’ve wanted for you.
sitting alone on your balcony one evening, watching lights flicker across neighboring buildings, you found yourself smiling.
when you were twenty-five, you thought letting sophia go meant losing her forever.
what actually happened was stranger than that.
you carried pieces of her forward.
the patience she tried to teach you.
the generosity you spent years learning to accept.
the understanding that being loved did not automatically place you in someone’s debt.
you eventually built a life.
not the one sophia imagined.
not the one your younger self imagined either.
just your own.
and maybe that was enough.
maybe that was always the point.
you looked out at the city and thought about how different the two of you must be now. how many versions of yourselves had existed in the years since you last spoke.
then you laughed quietly. not because anything was funny. just because life had a way of making sense years after you stopped demanding explanations from it.
wherever sophia was, you hoped she was content.
you hoped life had been kind.
you hoped she had found everything she had been looking for.
and if she ever thought of you at all, you hoped the memory felt gentle.
because loving sophia had never become one of your regrets.
it simply became one of the chapters that helped you understand the person you eventually grew into.
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݁ᛪ༙ synopsis at twenty-two, you're one overdue payment away from giving up on your dream of becoming a professional dancer. then sophia—your academy's new dance monitor—sees something in you that no one else ever has. with her support and unwavering belief in your talent, you're given another chance to chase the future you've always wanted.
݁ᛪ༙ disclaimer dance monitor! sophia laforteza! x young dancer! fem! reader, wuh luh wuh, little age gap, sophia being sugar mommy ? ¿
݁ᛪ༙ a/n can y’all tell i’ve been losing my mind over this historical of a sophia’s tiktok lately… istg that if my loved ones doesn’t play this video at my funerals, then i’m dead…
pretending that your ankles didn't ache after every rehearsal
pretending that balancing university lectures, part-time shifts, and dance classes wasn't slowly wearing you down
pretending that watching other dancers move closer to the dreams you'd shared since childhood didn't leave a bitter taste in your mouth
most days, you managed
tonight wasn't one of them
the studio had long emptied out, the evening sky outside the windows fading into deep shades of blue. sweat clung to the back of your neck as you replayed the choreography again
and again
and again
"your shoulders tense every time you anticipate the turn”
you nearly stumbled
turning around, you found sophia leaning against the doorway, a takeaway coffee in hand
she’d become the academy's new dance monitor only a few weeks ago, yet somehow she'd already earned a reputation for noticing everything
especially mistakes
you straightened immediately
"didn't realize i had an audience”
sophia stepped inside
"you don't”
her gaze flickered toward the mirrored wall
"i’m just finishing paperwork”
you huffed out a laugh
"right. and critiquing unsuspecting dancers is included in the job description?"
a small smile tugged at her lips
"only the promising ones”
your heart betrayed you with an embarrassing skip
"try it again," sophia said
you hesitated
then nodded
sophia folded her arms
"five, six, seven, eight..."
you moved
for once, you stopped thinking about tuition fees
about assignments
about your shift tomorrow morning
instead, you listened
your body followed instinct
the turn landed perfectly
when you looked back at sophia, she was smiling
not politely
not professionally
genuinely
"there you are," she murmured
heat rushed to your face
"what?"
"the dancer i’ve been waiting to see”
—
months later, you sat alone in the changing room staring at your phone
FINAL NOTICE
you swallowed hard
you’d already delayed the payment twice
another semester of classes seemed impossible
"you’ve been quieter than usual”
sophia stood nearby, concern softening her expression
"everything okay?"
you forced a laugh
"depends how much money qualifies as 'everything’”
sophia sat down beside you
"you want to talk about it?"
you hadn't meant to
but somehow, with sophia, honesty felt easier
you told her everything ;
the university expenses. the dance fees. the extra shifts. the fear that after all these years of sacrificing for your dream, you still wouldn't make it
sophia listened without interrupting
when you finally fell silent, she took a thoughtful breath
"you should audition for the regional showcase”
you blinked
"i can't afford next month's classes”
"i’m aware”
her voice remained calm
"that’s fixable”
you stared
"sophia—"
"there are scholarship programs available," she interrupted gently
"funding opportunities. sponsorships”
you shook your head
"those things don't happen to people like me”
sophia looked directly at you
"they should”
the certainty in her tone stole the words from your mouth
"you have talent," she continued
"you work harder than anyone here”
then, quieter—
"it would be a waste if you gave up now”
your throat tightened
"why do you care so much?"
sophia hesitated
"because everyone deserves someone who believes in them”
her gaze softened
"and because i believe in you”
—
the scholarship approval arrived two weeks later
you read the email three times before bursting into tears in the middle of the hallway
naturally, sophia found you minutes later
"you okay?"
you launched yourself into a hug before your brain caught up, “oh my god”
you immediately stepped back
"sorry…”
sophia blinked
her ears had gone pink
"you don't have to apologize”
neither of you mentioned how neither had rushed to let go
—
training intensified after that
sophia became stricter. more demanding. less forgiving
"you know," you muttered one evening, sprawled dramatically across the studio floor, "i liked you better when i thought you were intimidating”
sophia raised an eyebrow
"and now?"
"now i know you're terrifying”
sophia laughed
the sound caught you off guard every single time
somewhere between rehearsals and coffee runs after class, your crush stopped feeling harmless
it settled somewhere deeper
sophia remembering your favorite drink order. sophia reminding you to eat after long practices. sophia waiting until you got home safely after late rehearsals. sophia cheering louder than anyone during performances. sophia believing in you long before you learned how to believe in yourself
—
the showcase arrived faster than expected
backstage, your hands trembled
"what if i mess up?"
sophia adjusted the clasp on your costume
"you've prepared for this”
"what if it isn't enough?"
sophia looked at you
…really looked at you
"you don't have to earn the right to be here”
emotion lodged painfully in your chest
"you belong on that stage”
the stage manager called places
sophia squeezed your hand once
"you've got this”
—
you danced like someone who had finally stopped apologizing for taking up space
you danced for the younger version of yourself who had dreamed about this moment
for every shift you'd worked
every class you'd nearly dropped
every sacrifice you'd made
you danced because you loved it
because this was who you were
when the music ended, applause thundered through the theatre
backstage, you laughed through tears
sophia found you moments later
"you were incredible”
you shook your head
“no…”
sophia frowned slightly
"i was brave”
for a moment, she simply stared at you
then she smiled
"that too”
silence settled between you. comfortable. warm… terrifying
"sophia?"
"hm?"
"when everything settles down..."
she waited patiently
"would you maybe want to get dinner with me?"
she blinked
"dinner?"
you immediately wanted to disappear
"like a date," you clarified
a pause
then another
finally—
"i was beginning to think you'd never ask”
your eyes widened
"you knew?"
sophia laughed softly
"you walked directly into a barre because i said your name”
"that happened once”
"it happened three times”
you groaned, burying your face in your hands
her expression softened
"but yes”
you looked up
"yes?"
"yes”
the word wrapped around your heart like sunlight
the future remained uncertain
there would still be auditions. setbacks. moments of doubt
but standing beside sophia, you realized something important
Sorority Girl Daniela x nerd!masc!gp!reader || Non Idol Au
Summary — when you leave campus seeing Daniela storming past you crying, you comfort her. Never had you interacted before but you’ve always had a thing for her.
Contact warnings — no plot, smut, soft dom Daniela, love bombings, unprotected sex, comfort sex, mentions of cheating, reader is a gentlewoman, aftercare, soft and slow sex, creampie, big d reader, mommy kink, reader isn’t inexperienced but treats it like first time.
Authors Note — this was a pretty cool idea and honestly, there might be multiple parts to this, so thank you to the person who requested it. Hopefully you enjoy it! There will be a Manon fic next and then a Sophia one afterwards!!
@miniaturenachoo ; your request! :)
-
It was a long day. Like, unnecessarily long.
Classes were hell and not only that, but you also hadn't gotten the chance to eat lunch earlier. You were so backed up on your main studies that you sometimes completely forgot you had other classes you took and definitely needed. Considering you were passing all of them, you guessed it was okay. Since classes were over and it was a Friday, that meant you could relax all day—until Monday unfortunately.
Looking at your phone and the time, it was 5:45 PM.
There wasn't much you liked to do on a Friday except relax, so that was your plan. Maybe rent a few bad movies, buy a shit ton of snacks and binge watch television. You were walking to your car, the sight alone being like a breath of fresh air. As you got up close to it, you stood there and placed your phone in your jacket pocket. You were now fishing for your keys, hearing the jingle as you dug into the pocket.
You went to pull your keys out but as you did, a loud sound erupted and caused you to jump—your keys falling to the ground. Your eyes trailed up to see the source—it was Daniela, who slammed the door open with almost all her strength. Daniela Avanzini, the sorority girl you have had a crush on for as long as you could remember. You can't even remember when the crush started, you just saw her and it developed.
It wasn't a shocker though because maybe ninety percent of the university had a crush on her. Almost every day when you walked the halls or sat in class, there'd be someone talking about how badly they wanted her. Unfortunately for you, you were amongst one of those people that did. But you've been classified as a nerd on multiple occasions and Daniela made it clear she only liked frat guys.
You weren't trying to stare at her, but when you noticed the angry strides she took, you couldn't help but wonder why. You've maybe spoken to Daniela a few times since you've attended college with her and it wasn't because you didn't want to, it was just the simple fact that you knew she would shut you down. In the past, you only talked because you were tasked to help her with assignments.
But this time, you wanted to see what was wrong.
Because now that you see her, you saw the tears streaming down her face too—the mascara darkening her cheeks slighty.
You were afraid to say anything to her honestly, but you were also too caring. Maybe a little nosey when it came to her.
You picked your keys up and called out, "Hey Daniela," her head turning to you slightly but continuing on her way. You didn't want to seem creepy, but you started jogging up to her, seeing her not speeding up but continuing on her way, "Daniela, wait!" You watched her slow down slightly, letting you finally catch up as you adjusted your bag on your back, trying not to let it fall while you trailed behind her.
She wasn’t looking at you, “what do you want?” Her voice came out almost harsh, like she didn’t want to be bothered and honestly—she clearly didn’t. But you just wanted to delusionally comfort her in your own way, and she possibly knew that.
"Hey, sorry to bother you but uh..."
"Then why are you bothering me?" She asked, still not taking a single glance at you.
You chuckled awkwardly, "that's a fair point but I couldn't help but notice you're clearly pissed off and..." you were walking so fast trying to keep up that you were bumping into a lot of objects in your way, "and I was just trying to see what was wrong if that's not a weird thing to do." That finally got her to stop, you almost fumbling over your own two feet to turn to her, now completely seeing her face.
Oh, she was hurt by something.
You almost never seen her unhappy let alone cry.
Her arms folded over her chest; her purse being sandwiched between her forearm and her chest. Her head tilted slightly, "why the hell do you care? I didn't ask you to come check up on me." She was very upset so you could understand how she felt.
You nodded and licked your lips nervously, pulling your bag strap firmly on your arm to keep yourself steady. "I uh-I don't know. I just saw you crying and clearly upset so I kind of just wanted to make sure you were okay." She stared at you hard, holding your gaze deeply which caused you to swallow nervously.
Her head tilted upward questionably, "why?" She asked, almost a whisper.
You could hardly continue, your lips quivering trying to spit anything out. Her eyebrow raised, waiting for you to continue, "just because you're always happy and in a good mood and I guess I was just a little concerned, that's all." You explained it softly, Daniela staring at you like you just said the dumbest thing ever. She was very unreadable, and her stare was so predatory it had you almost walking away.
"Are you okay?" You asked her after she didn't reply, still not getting a reply from her. It's like she wanted to say something but at the same time, you two didn't really know each other. You literally only occasionally spoke a few times and if she was being honest, you're very nice to her. She didn't have a reason to be mean to you and she knew that but at the same time, she was just upset for her own reasons.
You swallowed and reached a hand out, not touching her, just trying to keep her attention. "Look I can see you're headed in the direction of the sorority house," you informed her, "and I know your boyfriend usually takes you there but considering he's not here right now and you're upset, I'm sure you were going to walk there." You weren't trying to offend her, but when you said boyfriend she looked more upset.
"Bye, ____," she said, going to resume walking.
"No no no, Daniela wait," you gently caught her wrist and this time, she stopped and didn't look annoyed, "I was just going to ask you if you wanted a ride there? I know by car it's like fifteen minutes from here and on foot it would be way longer," she seemed to soften at that which caused you to let her wrist go, "I can take you back there, if you need me to." You offered, seeing her eyes trailing from your feet and back to your face.
She stared at you for a moment, seeing the hopeful look in your eyes. You weren't trying to be weird but at the same time you knew you wouldn't feel right letting her walk back when it would be dark before she even got back. Daniela knew she didn't really want to walk back home, especially since it was also cold too and of course getting dark soon as well. She sighed and nodded, "okay. Yeah."
You let out a breath that you weren't aware that you were holding. You smiled at her, and just for comfort, you reached your hand out and she surprisingly took it. She instantly felt like her entire body relaxed. Not only was your hand super soft, but you were very warm and soothing but not only that, you were just extremely sweet. Daniela felt like she was about to melt from being treated so nicely after what just happened.
When you got to your car, you clicked the unlock button twice to unlock all the doors. You guided her to the passenger side and opened the door for her, watching how she almost elegantly entered your car and let your hand go. You waited for her to pull her legs inside before you softly closed the door behind her with a soft thud. Your heart was basically beating out of your chest; did you really just get the Daniela Avanzini in your car?
Yes, you did.
You opened the backdoor and put your bookbag in it.
After, you walked to your side and pulled the door open, taking your seat as you sat in the driver side and shut the door once you were situated. The sound of the doors locking automatically made the situation even more real, but the sound of her putting on her seatbelt made it almost way too real. You did the same and then turned your car on, the sound of the of your music coming on; being soft and very low.
You turned the heat up just slightly on her side, just to make sure she was warm. "Is that okay?" You asked her, seeing her only nodding which made you do the same. You looked at her again for a second, seeing the still ruined mascara on her face. You reached over her, her eyes following as you pulled open your glove compartment. You had tissues in there, paper towels for when you ate in your car during lunch.
You pulled some paper towels out, "here you go." You softly offered, Daniela eyes looking at yours before she took it.
It was nice interacting with her, but you were still curious why she was crying in the first place. You reversed out of the parking lot and began on your way. You've driven past the sorority house before because it was on the way to your off-campus apartment. The sound of the soft music mingled with the soft hum of your car was soothing. There wasn't as much traffic luckily for you two.
It was really silent and you didn't want to get in her business, but you also didn't want her to be uncomfortable or anything. You coughed softly to get her attention which you did, "you hungry? We can get some food before I drop you off, if you want to?" You didn't know it, but you were for sure having an effect on her. What kind of effect, she wasn't quite sure, but it felt so nice to be talked to so sweetly.
You were showing nothing but genuine care and if Daniela was being honest, that had her feeling less sad. She nodded, "I wouldn't mind getting food. Shake shack, if that's cool." She replied, her eyes turning from looking out the window to now staring forward. You just nodded a couple times, of course that was okay. You actually enjoyed food from there too and if she liked it, then that was definitely nice in a way.
You swallowed before asking her, "may I ask you why you were crying? I legit don't think I've ever seen you sad before."
She didn't answer for a second, you almost regretting asking before you stopped at a stop sign. You saw the flash of her phone screen from your right and when you turned your head, you saw she was showing you a text conversation. It was one of those, "Hey girlie," messages. You nodded, reading the long paragraph from a woman that she didn't know. She was explaining how her and Daniela's boyfriend had been hooking up for a while.
Daniela pulled the phone back and scrolled, turning the phone to you and showing you a picture of her boyfriend and clearly another woman kissing. You didn't know what to say because how could anyone cheat on someone as beautiful as her? Maybe it was an insecurity that he had or he's just a plain ole cheater. You watched her face carefully, seeing how she seemed to be more and more upset at the sight.
Daniela let out a sigh, "I already figured he was doing something behind my back," she said, "I just hate how men will come back to you after knowing they have someone else. It literally pisses me off so bad." She pulled her phone back, turning the screen off and placing it in her purse. You had almost forgot you were at a stop sign; too entranced in what she was telling you.
You nodded once and then a few more times before turning back to the road and proceeding to drive. "Well, it's definitely his loss, Daniela," you told her and caught her attention, "because in the end, the one who is unfaithful always loses. They'll realize that nothing and no one will make them happy, so they will end up just being alone." You didn't see it, but she smiled softly at that. "And you win by not going back. By realizing-you are most certainly the prize."
She tried to contain her smile, but you caught it and it came out, "I'm not going back at all. He's been texting me, but I already gave up on that. This isn't the first time he's made me feel like shit." You hummed questionably, waiting for her to continue, "when we're out, he looks at other women so fucking hard like I kid you not ____, he would break his neck to look at another woman walk by."
You scoffed, "what the fuck?" You asked, "so you're telling me that he has a ten out of ten girlfriend who looks like a super model and he still wants the attention of other women?" You looked at her for a second and saw her nod, causing you to shake your head, "I think men are the dumbest creatures to ever exist because what do you mean you can live with the fact that you fumbled someone this beautiful? Come on!"
That actually made her laugh, the sound catching your ears in the most beautiful way. You smiled to yourself before saying, "I'm serious Daniela. He has to be the dumbest person alive to fumble you. Like there's so many people on campus that wants you and he fumbled so fucking hard. Like that's actually so crazy to me." You insinuated every word with a small tap on your steering wheel.
Daniela sat up straighter in her seat, "that's how men are, unfortunately. They will never be satisfied with just one woman."
"And I mean never, they're so unbearable," you said, both of you chuckling before a soft and charming silence overtook you.
She would occasionally take glances at you, realizing just how soft and sweet you were. The times you had spoken, you were always so nice to her. You were one of the few people that didn't try to impress her or try to get in her pants just because. You were so respectful no matter what and now that she's thinking on it, she's wondering why she had never tried to form a friendship with you. You seemed like a genuine person.
There are definite signs in people that shows that they're just straight assholes, but you for sure weren't. She could look at you from a mile away and can tell you had a pure heart. She knawed on her bottom lip softly, trying to distract her thoughts. Being at this close proximity to you, she could really pick up on your personality. Your clothes were always clean; your car was clean and smelled great.
Small things about you she noticed. And it wasn't because she was overanalyzing you, she was just able to get a good look at you now that she was technically hanging with you. Your whole demeanor was fairly... attractive. She didn't know how to explain it because she wasn't even attracted to nerds. You were, however, very attractive. She looked ahead again, letting the soft music take over her mind.
After you got you both some food, you were on the way to take her home to her sorority house. She hadn't started eating her food yet and neither have you.
"____." Daniela called, gaining your attention as you hummed, "I don't really want to go back to the sorority house." She said.
You eyed her and asked, "oh, why?"
She shrugged, "they're throwing a party there at eight," she explained, "and I really don't want to be around that shit right now."
"I understand," you didn't want to seem weird, but you had to ask, "well, do you want to-I don't know maybe come over?" She looked at you from the side, "I mean, that is if you want. I live off campus and have an extra bedroom if you want to come over for the night."
She stared blankly at you for a second before nodding, "yeah. That sounds fine."
-
You and Daniela were now standing in front of your apartment door, and she was holding your food as you fished out your keys from within your pocket. You unlocked your door and pushed it open, flipping the light on and letting Daniela in. She walked in without hesitation, you closing the door behind you before locking it. You walked to her and ushered her to the living room, "we can eat in here. I'll put a movie on."
You watched her walk into your living room, the strides she took being almost hypnotic. You took your hoodie off and placed it on the back of your couch, now only being in a plain t-shirt and jeans after kicking your sneakers off as well. She took a seat and placed the food on your coffee table, but you missed the way she was staring at you. You didn't turn a main light on, only a corner lamp that was bright enough to light up the room.
She was impressed with how clean it was, cozy, warm and so comforting. You walked over to her and grabbed the television remote that was sitting on the coffee table, just before you turned it on. You scrolled through channels, "anything you want to watch, Daniela?" You asked her without looking at her, hearing her take a bite of a crunchy french fry.
"Anything is fine." She replied.
You flicked through channel after channel until you came across a movie, one that you didn't recognize but it was in the genre of a romance and drama. She hummed approvingly and you decided to take your seat next to her. She was looking at the television when you looked at her. "You can take your shoes off if you want, Daniela. Make yourself at home, I definitely don't mind at all."
You watched her reach down for the shoes on her feet, and you're just now realizing how nice her outfit was. Every time she wore a skirt with a short top and a jacket accompanied by a nice set of heels, it genuinely always took your breath away. It wasn't on purpose, but you watched her slip the heels off and then came her jacket, your eyes trailing away from her so you wouldn't stare too long at her.
She knew you were looking; she saw the way you swallowed thickly and was facing the tv awkwardly. Daniela didn't think too much of it though, because she thought it was cute. Not to have a cocky mindset or anything, but she was aware of how gorgeous she was. There hasn't been a day in her life where she thought otherwise, but seeing you being all flustered and trying to contain your composure was adorable.
You both ate your food in a silence that didn't make either of you uncomfortable. It was hard trying to keep your gaze on the movie because not only did you have a crush on Daniela but having her in your apartment sitting next to you, on your couch, looking as beautiful as ever had your heart racing. It felt unreal, but the fact that you were able to calm her down from what happened made it real.
You had finished your food first and after she finished hers, you had taken both of your trash and threw them away; bringing over some hand sanitizer for her. She thanked you with the most genuine smile, making your heart flutter so sweetly. If you weren't such an overthinker, you would tell her about your crush. Unfortunately for you, your heart would not be able to handle rejection from her.
"____," she called out, your head turning to see her already looking at you, "where's your bathroom? My makeup needs a touch up." She chuckled softly, you doing the same.
You pointed to your dimly lit hallway, "it's the second door on the left. Take all the time you need."
Daniela stood up and grabbed her purse, walking past you in the most gorgeous way. You were trying to look, but she was so beautiful that your eyes couldn't help but stare. You could smell the sweet perfume that she wore when she walked past you; it felt like you were going to faint from that alone. You watched her disappear down the hallway, the sound of your bathroom door opening and then closing softly.
You let out a deep breath, trying to regain the little sanity that you had left. You were very grateful that her now ex did cheat on her and as messed up as it sounds, you were happy it got you in this situation. You didn't know her ex personally, but you knew he was a frat boy meaning he was around women all the time. Daniela was a sorority girl, but you knew she was all about him, unfortunately.
That caused her to be blind of his actions because anyone could look at him and tell he wasn't a faithful guy. It's not like you were paying any attention to him but when you saw her with him sometimes, you could tell he clearly didn't like her. It's like he was only with her the reputation of being one of the most popular frat guys in the entire school, and was dating the most popular sorority girl as well.
Then again, it was none of your business. Your crush for Daniela wasn't exactly clear because you've never shown it. Hopefully you weren't giving off signs that you did have a crush on her because you did not want her to feel weird with you. Considering she hasn't demanded you take her home yet, you're guessing she didn't. She seemed really comfortable around you, and you were happy for that.
After about ten minutes, Daniela came out of your bathroom. You sat up and saw her face and honestly, you couldn't believe how ethereal she managed to look. She only touched up her makeup, and she still managed to make that look gorgeous. This time when she walked past you. she turned her backside slightly in your direction where her ass was basically in your face.
You were so flustered and she could tell. The way you awkwardly looked away from her and to the way your hands fidgeted from in between your thighs. She was satisfied with how effective small things she did affect you. You were actually more attractive when you tried your hardest to not show how flushed you were. Not even just cute nor adorable, you were downright attractive. Very attractive.
Daniela was curious now. Have you ever been in a relationship before? You were so levelheaded and focused all the time, so she assumed you didn't have the time. She has never seen you anywhere outside of campus or in class, so she assumed after classes you would just come straight home. There was nothing wrong with that at all and if anything, it made you even hotter than you already were.
"____," she called, your eyes landing on her seeing how she had one leg over top of her other, "can I ask you something?"
You nodded your head, "sure, what's up?" You asked, turning to her slightly so she could know you had her full attention. You didn't miss the way she swallowed thickly, like she didn't want to ask whatever was on her mind.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" She asked you, seeing how the question clearly caught you off guard.
You shook your head, "no I don't. May I ask why'd you ask?"
She stared at you for a moment, and you didn't miss when she slid closer to you just a fraction. "I don't know what I'm doing or thinking but," her voice trailed off for a second, "I'm just curious if you've ever had sex before?"
You chuckled awkwardly, trying your hardest to figure out where that came from. "I have, yeah. Not recently, but I've been intimate with someone before."
Daniela hummed, just before she looked up at you, "I guess I asked because for some reason," she started, slowly sliding closer to you just a little more, "this night alone is making me feel more than my ex has ever made me feel in the past." She said, watching your face for any discomfort, "and I guess with the way you're acting with me right now has me feeling some kind of way."
Your breath hitched hard when her thigh was pressed firmly against your very own, your eyes never leaving her face. She leaned closer to you which out of nerves, made you lean back just a fraction. You weren't sure what she was trying to do, but your mind could understand what she was implying. It had your heart hammering inside your chest, the sound meeting your ears.
One of her hands went to your thighs, ghosting over it before she grasped it firmly and rubbed it softly. Daniela leaned closer to you, her lips being close to your face. She smiled slightly, "I don't know where this feeling came from, but I want you so bad," her lips got closer to you, a soft chuckle escaping her from your reaction, "when I was in the bathroom just now, I couldn't stop thinking about this."
A giant shiver shook through your body, your hands shaking slightly when you reached up and grasped her arms to stop her. She pulled back and looked at you, seeing how you closed your eyes briefly with your tongue swiping over you bottom lip. "Daniela, I understand what you just went through and I know it must be hurtful. But I really don't want to be your stress relief or rebound. As much as I—"
"As much as you what, ____?" She asked, her voice low and seductive which caused a chill to go up your body, "as much as you clearly want to fuck me?" She asked boldly, her hand going up to cup your jaw and pull your attention towards her. "I don't care about what my ex did. And don't try to act like you haven't been eye fucking me ever since we been at this school. You think I didn't notice when we did work together?"
You swallowed harshly, "I—I can admit I may have looked at you inappropriately before and I apologize for that," she stared you dead in the eyes as you spoke, "and I may have a crush on you but at the same time, I don't want to be a quick hook up for you as revenge for him." Your eyes looked away nervously, the closeness and eye contact that she held being so nerve wrecking.
She smiled at you, "I kind of figured you had a crush on me." She gently pulled your face closer to hers just before she wrapped her free arm around your back, having you pressed firmly against her. "And if I'm being honest, I always found you to be so cute," her lips ghosted over yours, your eyes trained on her beautiful face. "Tell me I'm wrong, ____. Tell me you never wondered what it would be like to fuck me?"
Your mouth hung open slightly, Daniela finding you to be so cute. She leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, feeling you shiver at the contact. Her hand left your face and the other one moved from your back before she grasped both of your forearms; feeling the tension in them. She rubbed them soothingly, "don't worry about my ex baby, I know you want to fuck me. Come on, ____."
You were stuck on the fact that she had kissed you and touched you in such a way that had you shaking now. "Dani—Daniela I—yeah, I mean yeah I've thought about it in the past, but I respected your relationship and let those thoughts go." You confessed almost under your breath, but she heard you clearly. You being so flustered had her so turned on; she could feel a pulse in her clit slightly.
You saw how her legs clenched together, the feeling of her nails trailing up and down your forearms making you gulp. "And what about now? You still want to? Because I want you to."
The Daniela Avanzini wanted you? She wanted you to have sex with her and with you having the biggest crush on her, your mind was telling you to just do it. "If we do this—what would it mean to you?" You asked, Daniela being in awe with how serious this was to you, "Because I've never hooked up with anyone before. I don't want it to be a one night stand Daniela, I want us to be something if we have sex.”
Daniela stared at you for a moment, finding it adorable with how you were. You were just the type of person who never did one night stands; only sleeping with someone if you had a deep connection with them. At the same time, Daniela is your crush and out of respect for yourself—you didn’t know if this was the right thing to do. She was so close to you and the fact that she was touching you, kissing you, had you hardening in your pants.
“We could be something,” she murmured, her hands slowly trailing to your shoulders and caressing them, “maybe friends with benefits or something.”
You shook your head, “I’ve never done that either. I just—I can’t do one night stands, Daniela. I just can’t.”
Her finger went to your lips, “shh, we don’t have to. This isn’t about revenge or making you a stress relief. We can start off slow, if you want. If you don’t want anyone to know about this,” she removed her finger and placed a slow and savory kiss to your lips, “I don’t kiss and tell. We can keep it between us, start off slow, and see where this goes. That sounds better?” She asked.
With a hesitant nod you said, “okay. Yeah, okay that’s fine.” You stopped her again before she could kiss you like she planned, "Daniela. I don't really have any protection or anything like that. Also... I don't want you to regret doing this. Just please tell me you won't forget about me tomorrow, after all this."
Aw.
How cute.
You were really serious about this and it shows.
She reached up and took a hold of the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to hers until your lips melted perfectly together. Daniela could feel how your lips trembled; letting her bottom lip go over yours which caused you to open your mouth slightly. She instantly slipped her tongue inside, the slight taste of mint mingling with your own saliva as she slid hers firmly across yours.
Your body locked up once she swung a leg over your lap without breaking the kiss. Her free hand went to grab one of yours, taking it and placing it on her ass; your palm instantly going to firmly cup the soft flesh of it. She moaned into your mouth, grounding her hips with yours to feel the obvious bulge straining behind the fabric. Daniela's tongue was everywhere, making you gasp when she sucked harshly on yours.
You placed your other hand on her ass, softly kneading the flesh and helping her grind back and forth against you. You groaned in your throat, a husky sound that had Daniela's hands going down your body and taking a hold of the edges of your shirt. She was so eager for your skin against her very own; you could hear it in the shaky whimpers she let out. You were getting more confident by the minute.
The fact that your crush wanted you so badly and now she's in your lap, grinding against you and devouring your mouth was mind boggling. She held onto the hem of your shirt, balling the fabric up in her hands as she stopped so she could continue making out with you. The kiss was so sloppy, her tongue and yours causing saliva to slip around your mouths the more and more she took control over you.
It was almost overwhelming, and Daniela made sure to grind her hips extra slowly and filthy against your cock. She could feel you throb and twitch with every movement, her hips delivering a filthy circle that made your body jerk. She smiled against you before she pulled away, seeing your face as your breathing came out labored. Yours and her lips were overly wet, and her biting her bottom lip was so sexy.
Her eyes were hooded over, hazy and lustful. She sighed approvingly, "____, don't freak out too much. I'm on the pill, baby," she reassured you, her hand going to your cheek to caress the skin there, "I don't do one night stands either, so I won't forget you." She slid off your lap slowly, letting one of hands go to yours as she pulled you up, "Come on. Take me to bed, amor."
You were more nervous now that this was happening, but you slowly guided her to your bedroom that was dimly lit by a illuminated lava lamp. Your hand went to turn the light on, but Daniela stopped you, causing you to turn to her only to see the most sexy smirk ever. “Don’t. The red sets the mood, come on.” She muttered, not even giving you the chance before she had you backing up to your bed.
You stood near the edge once she released you to go to the skimpy top she had on, her fingers gracing it before she pulled it off so slowly. You couldn’t look away and she loved that, hearing your breath hitch from where she stood. She was wearing a dark strapless bra that shaped her breasts almost too well and when she tossed the top to the side, Daniela grasped the edges of her skirt in such a teasing way.
She shimmied her way out of the skirt, her panties matching her bra so beautifully. You shuddered at the sight. She eyed you so intently, not bothering to remove anymore fabric until she gestured to you with a wave of her finger, ordering you to come over. When you hesitated, she could only chuckle, “don’t be shy, baby. Come here.” Her voice affected you so heavily.
Your entire body felt so heavy but you moved anyway, not quite sure what to do when you got in front of her. She was way too beautiful; such a goddess that somehow took an attraction to you even when your looks wasn’t what she’d typically go for. But she knew what to do for you, letting her hands reach out and grab a hold of the edge of your shirt; watching your face for any discomfort.
But you weren’t afraid. You were just nervous. It wasn’t your first time at all but with your crush of so long, you jest wanted to be perfect for her. Her hands slowly pulled the fabric up and over your head, discarding the shirt and tossing it to the side. “Daniela—you’re so beautiful…” She only smiled at you before her hand spread across your chest to push you back until the back of your knees hit the bed.
Daniela took a hold of your chin; letting her manicured nails graze the sides of your face before she pulled you into a deep and slow kiss. It was almost too sensual that you completely forgot how you ended up here. When she pulled away, she stared you deeply in the eyes; not once letting you think she didn’t want this. “Call me Dani, baby. Enough with the Daniela.” She muttered to you.
Her hands went to your shoulders before trailing towards your collar bones, tracing them and skimming over to your abdomen. She let her fingers caress the skin there, letting her touch rake a shiver throughout your body. “Dani…” you whispered, causing her to smile down at you. Your eyes were still full of disbelief, and she could tell by the way your hands shook slightly in your lap.
“Relax, ____,” her voice came out soft, just before she titled her head towards your headboard, “on your back, up there.” You slid back almost too quickly, hearing the chuckle from Daniela before she stopped you briefly; her hands on your pants to pull them down as you slid up the bed. She stared at your underwear once she got your pants off, seeing the obvious huge bulge in them. “Fuck…” She sighed.
Once you were settled against the headboard, you watched her reach for the back of her bra and unclasp it. Your breathing got even more labored seeing her practically naked—basically nude completely. All she had on was her underwear that clung snuggly against her lower regions. She pressed one knee into your bed, her hands following as she crawled up to you in such a predatory way.
Daniela didn’t waste any time before she climbed back over top of you, settling down in your lap and making sure she pressed her covered pussy against your covered cock. She shuddered once she settled on top of you, your eyes closing briefly to try and relax yourself. But she wasn’t having that; her hand going to your hair and craning your neck up to expose the left side of your throat.
You winced slightly, “I like rough and slow sex, ____,” she leaned forward to your ear and placed a kiss against the space underneath it, “and I really like to dominate. I’ve never done it before but you’ll let me right, baby? Say you’ll let me.” You’ve never really been dominated before, always being a sweet and gentlewoman when it came to sex. You only nodded frantically, causing Daniela’s grip to tighten in your hair, “no baby, I want to hear you say it.”
You swallowed thickly, “ye—yeah, Dani. I’ll let you dominate me…” your voice trailed off slightly, trying your hardest to hold onto the little composure you had left.
She smiled into your neck, “good girl,” she purred, her hand letting go of your hair before she took a hold of both of your hands and placed them on her bare ass. It felt so much more soft, so delicate and comforting. “I also like to be called Mommy. Think you can call me that, amor? I want to hear you say that too.”
Her hand snaked up to your throat, not squeezing but tight enough to let you know she was here. You whimpered, “yes I can—Mommy.” You stuttered it out shakily, but she was satisfied with that.
Daniela let go of your throat before she raised her hips just slightly, her eyes being on yours before they trailed down lower. You watched her gaze, following once you felt her hand go over your bulge. She didn’t tease you at all, pulling the fabric up and over your cock, her mouth practically watering as she watched it bob up and against your stomach; a little bit of pre cum flicking from the movement.
She took a hold of it, slowly stroking you from base to tip and smiling as she heard the harsh breath you let out. She held you tightly for a moment so she could reach underneath herself and hook a finger in the band of her panties. She pulled the fabric aside, your eyes watching the way her slick stuck to the panties. Her clit peaked out from between her lips, showing just how aroused she was.
Daniela took a second once she realized just how big you were. Thick and long in all the right places that could hit every spot she needed it to. You watched her intently, the Latina pushing your tip flush with her clit to rub it tenderly. Her eyes closed briefly, a soft sigh leaving her the more she rubbed you against her. She was using her juices to slick your cock up, dragging it nice and slow until it pressed against her entrance.
This was really happening, and you knew you couldn't back out.
You didn't want to.
With a precise angel of your cock, Daniela guided you gently into her drenched pussy that clenched as you entered. She gasped softly, only now realizing just how much you were turning her on. She removed her hand once the tip was firm inside of her, your hands squeezing tightly onto her plush ass; your eyes shutting closed. In an instant, Daniela's hand grabbed harshly at your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze.
"No baby," she cooed with a shake of her head, "keep those eyes on Mommy, understand?" You couldn't even reply as she quickly took you in completely. It burned so perfectly for her, the stretch being so delightful that it had her clenching down on you. Your breathing was ragged, Daniela's eyes taking in your face; watching you clearly struggling with how tightly her walls were gripping onto your cock.
She smiled at the way your lip quivered, not wasting another second before she lifted her hips slowly only to drop down with such deadly vigor. You practically cried out, Daniela moaning before she set a steady and deep pace. Her ass made a filthy pap sound every time she dropped down onto your cock. You wanted to stare at her, but your eyes trailed towards the way your cock opened her up.
It was stretching her so well, and by the way she moaned on top of you confirmed that. Her hand went to your collarbone before she trailed it to your throat, snaking around the back and taking a gentle hold of your hair. Daniela angled your head up to meet her eyes. She tilted her head to the side, her hair hanging so beautifully. She took you in so slowly, flushing her hips with yours to circle her hips so deep and slowly.
Your hands transitioned from her ass and to her hips. You helped guide her movements, "fuck, Mommy..." your voice whimpered, your hips staring to rut up into hers. Her hold in your hair tightened, the feel of her pulling your face close to hers before she pressed her lips deeply into yours. She moaned at the taste of you, one of your arms encircling around her back to hold her almost impossibly closer.
She took the position as a sign to fuck herself onto you harder, her walls delicately dragging every thick vein your cock possessed. She made sure to purposely clench around you every time, your balls being flush with her ass every time she dragged her hips back and forth. Daniela's tongue fought hard with yours; though you were losing big time with the way your cock was already oversentive.
You could feel the way thick globs of precum foamed at your tip but getting lost in the slick Daniela produced. It was the most sensual, slow, and deep moment of intimacy you've ever had. Daniela took you harshly but gently at the same time; and the pace she sent was so foreign and deep that she managed to have her clit rubbing against your pelvis. You touched her everywhere, almost getting completely lost in the feeling.
Daniela's tongue slipped from your mouth, the Latina pulling away with a loud moan of your name. She wrapped her arms around your neck and placed her head in the crook of it. You shivered at the feeling of her lips attaching to the skin there, Daniela instantly suctioning them on a section of your skin. Your hips faltered at the feeling, but it only caused her to slam down harder with the loudest imapact.
"Fuck, mommy..."
"Feels good baby?" She laughed softly into your throat, smiling against it when she heard you struggling to answer her. She went to bouncing on your cock, making sure to only leave an inch between you so you could feel the way her walls tugged you deeper into her. You wrapped both of your arms around her, Daniela whimpering softly at the feeling of being held. You were so gentle even when being dominated.
Your hands were holding onto her tightly, the grip letting her know just how close you were. She pulled off of your throat with a lewd pop, a string of saliva breaking off when she pulled back completely. Daniela placed both hands on your shoulders; her eyes being transfixed on your face. Your mouth hung open slightly, the feeling of her pussy contracting with every bounce almost being too much.
"You gonna cum for me, baby?" She smuggly asked.
You nodded your head frantically, "yes Mommy, fuck... so close baby," she left one hand on your shoulder, the other going to your throat to squeeze lightly. Her hips grounded with yours, moving them in fast yet deep circles that had your eyes rolling back into the back of your head. She enjoyed watching you practically break underneath her. Her hold on your throat tightened, her thumb pressing against the fresh hickey she marked in your neck.
"I bet you are close baby," she could feel the twitch of your cock every time she dragged her hips forward into yours. You shuddered, your grip around her body tightening. Your eyes shut tightly but this time she didn't mind it. Daniela loved the way your cock stirred her insides, the thick tip pounding into the deepest parts of her. It rubbed against her cervix just right, the sensation causing her eyes to roll.
You whimpered against her, "look at you, ____," she moaned deeply, her hips picking up the pace to usher you there faster, "fuck, you fill me up so well baby." Daniela's voice came out very shaky, "you love this pussy don't you, amor?" Your whimpering told her all she needed to know, and she was in awe watching your fucked out expression. Her hold on your throat only tightened the closer you got to your end.
Your hands dropped down to her ass to rut yourself inside her, "yes baby, fuck!" Daniela shouted into the air, your hips going to pound up into her. You were right there and Daniela fucked herself down onto your cock when you fucked up into her. Her hand cut off your airflow, making your hips cease again whilst she plummeted onto your cock. "Come on baby, fucking cum inside me—fuck! Come on baby, shit!"
Her begging voice was all you needed before you felt that thick and euphoric surge of cum shoot against her cervix. Daniela released your throat and pulled you flush against her chest, "fu—fuck, Dani..." She dragged her hips harshly against your own, over intensifying and prolonging your orgasm. Daniela's hands went to your back, scrapping at the skin to mark it up in a deep red from breaking the skin.
She held you close to her, making sure her hips continued their onslaught to have you whimpering beautifully underneath her. She pulled you back and pressed your back against the headboard, making sure her grinds were harsh and deliberate so she could watch you twitch. “There you go baby, fuck you’re so sexy.” She loved watching your body jerk, your eyes being unable to stay open now.
Daniela slowed just a bit so she could ask, “can you go again? Gotta make me cum if you want me to keep talking to you.” Your breath hitched before your eyes opened, Daniela smirking at you before she decided to lift herself off of you so suddenly. The lost of connectivity made you let out a husky groan, watching how she got onto hands and knees before you. She wiggled her ass at you and turned her head, “come fuck me. Make it hurt too.”
You were still sensitive but you sat up and took a hold of your cock, it only being semi hard now. You stroked it and took one of her ass cheeks in your hand, kneading it slowly before you angled your tip to her anticipating hole. She arched her back for you, sighing satisfactorily once you settled into her; instantly flushing your hips with her. You leaned over her, your breath fanning the nape of her neck just before she moved her hair out of the way.
It was so sensual once you drew your hips back, slowly pushing back in so she could feel every inch. Daniela pushed back against you, meeting your slow thrust that had her mind hazy. Your chest was pressed firmly against her back; the Latina biting her bottom lip at the feeling of you hitting every sensitive spot just right. Your body caged hers in, your hands going over top of hers.
Fuck.
You didn’t know what you were doing to her.
Your fingers lacing with her had her on the edge already.
You pushed in deeply once, Daniela’s body jerking forward at the deep press it sent. You held yourself there, lowering your head to her neck before you started peppering her in kisses. Her pussy was so tight around you, the wetness feeling like it was trying to push you out yet her walls continuously sucked you in. The feeling was everything and you wanted her to come. Badly.
You flushed your hips with her and thrusted the blunt head of your cock against that spongy spot inside her. That feeling made her fall over onto her chest, looking as if she was trying to squirm away from you. Her body was pressed into the mattress and you followed her, “____! Fuck—fuck you’re—it feels so good, baby—fuuuck!” Your hips were flush with her ass, pulling out just a little to thrust in harshly.
Her ass shook every time you plunged inside of her, a nice ripple being the result of that. Your grip on her hands stayed firm to keep her in place, you deciding that you wanted to pick up the pace and fuck her properly. Daniela’s back arched deeply, giving you a better angle to smother her cervix with an onslaught of heavy thrusts.
Her eyes were sealed shut, that dominance she had earlier completely going away and submitting completely to you. Never did you think you’d have your crush underneath you like this, begging for you and moaning out your name like a symphony. You drove your hips into her faster, pitching a slightly different angle so your balls could impact her clit.
Daniela’s body shook with every thrust, never having felt like this with any one in her life. You hit her spot every time with no fail and you loved the sight of her scrunched up face when you pounded into her. “Daniela,” you moaned, only whimpers leaving her, “you feel so good, baby. Fuck—I don’t think I can get enough of you.” Your voice alone was driving her insane, and you could tell by the way she tightened.
You weren’t cocky, you were genuine with it all and it showed extremely well. You grounded your hips with her, letting your balls massage against her clit to give her that stimulation she needed. The thick wet sounds your cock made inside her pussy was music to your ears, alongside the sight of her squirming against your thick cock. Fuck—this was everything you needed. Everything.
You released her hands and took a hold of her hips, pulling her against you when you fucked down into her. She scrambled against your mattress, one hand reaching back to hold onto you. Instead, you grabbed it and placed it firmly against her back so you could keep the momentum going. You were close again already too, and you wanted to orgasm with her.
With the way her walls spasmed violently around you, you knew she was extremely close. Your eyes shut to bask in the feeling, “fuck you’re gonna make me cum—baby oh fuck!” Your hips slammed into her now, ramming right into her g spot that tried sucking you into her deeper. You removed your hand from her hip and leaned over her, also releasing her hand that gripped the bed tightly.
Your chest pressed firmly against her back, your hips fucking upward into her. Daniela let out a broken moan that was mixed with a sob, feeling your arms wrap around her so you could slowly thrust as deep as you could over and over again. Her body started to shake, her mouth hung open in a silent scream before her entire body locked up against yours.
“Fu—fuck!” Her voice reached a pitch you didn’t think it could, your hips stopping just for a second only to continue when she shakily reached back and grabbed the side of your hip to keep you going. “Please baby, don’t stop—fuck…” You didn’t want to overwhelm her too much but you made sure she felt everything she needed completely.
You were right there too and she knew that. She overlooked her overstimulation and started throwing herself back on your cock; your body halting to let her do so. You shook against her, feeling yourself being pulled into another wave of pleasure that made your grip around her tighten. Only then did you thrust lightly into her, a few deep and jerky movements accompanied by labored breathing.
Daniela helped you move against her, “you’re so beautiful Dani, Mommy—shit,” you groaned, swallowing thickly as you shook.
She didn’t want this to end but at the same time, she couldn’t be here all night. She had never had an orgasm from penetration alone and the fact that you were able to do it so effortlessly has her hooked. Not only that, but she has never been held so sensually during moments like that. She hoped she wasn’t falling for you because that would be too soon.
Way too soon.
—
You woke up with a throbbing headache, wincing at the sight of the sunlight beaming through your blinds. It was very early and that alone let you know you had a very long night—a night that you almost forgot completely. Reaching to both sides of you, you didn’t feel Daniela’s presence there. You finally opened your eyes; sighing at the sight.
She left.
But why?
Apparently it was too good to be true and for you, that was one of the most amazing nights of physical intimacy you’ve had. It was a shame that she didn’t feel the same way because it meant everything to you. Unfortunately though, you were just a victim of a one night stand. You hated the thought of a one night stand, especially from your crush.
At least—you thought.
Your phone buzzed on your night stand. You turned it on to see what it was, a message.
“Unknown Number: Maybe Daniela Avanzini”
You quickly grabbed your phone and opened it, never having put a password on it because you didn’t find it necessary. You smiled once you opened the message because maybe—just maybe, you weren’t just a one night stand. Not even just maybe, you definitely weren’t a one night stand and Daniela definitely let you know that.
—
—
Authors Note — okay so this may have been a little rushed at the end, but I had to get a story out lol. Hopefully it was enjoyable, sorry to the person who requested it like a month ago lmao but hopefully you liked it! I love y’all and I have a Manon story that’s almost done so hopefully I do that tomorrow! Have a great day twins!
syn. your possessive best friend wants you really bad
I can be a better boyfriend than him (possessivelara x fem!reader)
cw: smut cheating possessive behavior exhibitionism voyeurism strap-on sex LARA'S SO NASTYYYYY
a/n: SMUT AFTER SMUT??? WHO AMMMM III, anywaysss favorite paramore song?
bestie!lara who swears, swears, she could treat you better than your sorry excuse of a boyfriend ever could.
“I don’t get why you stay with him,” Lara says, voice low, annoyed but careful, like she doesn’t want to push too hard. “That’s the fifth time this month he’s blown you off.”
You’re curled into her, your back against her chest, her arm wrapped around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her chin rests on your shoulder. Comfortable. Easy.
“He’s just busy,” you mumble, even though you don’t fully believe it.
Lara scoffs softly. “Everyone’s busy. That’s not an excuse.”
bestie!lara who drops everything the second you text are you free?
bestie!lara who never makes you feel like you’re asking for too much.
“You deserve someone who actually wants to be around you,” she continues, thumb tracing slow, absent minded circles on your arm. “Like… it shouldn’t feel this hard.”
There’s a pause. Not awkward, just heavy.
You don’t say anything, but you lean back into her a little more. Lara notices. She always does.
“I’m not saying you have to break up with him,” she adds quickly, softer now. “I just hate seeing you upset.”
You glance up at her, catching the way her jaw tightens, how her eyes are fixed on nothing in particular. She cares. Too much, maybe.
“I know,” you say. “That’s why I love you.”
She laughs under her breath. “Yeah. Lucky me.”
But she doesn’t move her arm. Doesn’t pull away. If anything, she holds you closer, just a little, like she’s already chosen a side.
bestie!lara who loves your body.
She’ll trace the stretch marks on your hips with her fingers, kiss the scar on your knee from when you fell off your bike in third grade.
She’ll rest her head on your stomach just to feel you breathe. “You’re perfect,” she’ll mumble into your skin, and you know she actually means it.
bestie!lara who’s possessive.
Her hand is always on your thigh when you three are together, her thumb stroking your skin right under the hem of your skirt.
Your boyfriend never notices, but you do. You feel the heat of it all the way up your spine.
bestie!lara who sends explicit photos of herself when she knows you’re with him.
You’ll feel your phone buzz in your pocket while he’s talking about some mindless bullshit, and you’ll see a notification from Lara.
It’s a picture of her in her bed, no top on. The caption just says, ‘bored.’
You have to hide your reaction, pretend you’re listening, but all you can think about is her.
bestie!lara who humps your pillow when she’s at your place alone.
She’s face down in your bed, grinding her bare cunt against your pillow, her hips working in a frantic rhythm.
She’s moaning your name into the fabric, getting off on the fact that you’ll be sleeping on that pillow tonight, completely clueless.
She soaks the fabric with her arousal, a wet spot she just smirks at before she flips the pillow over.
bestie!lara who sends you videos late at night.
You’ll get a string of them, one after another, her phone is aimed down her body, showing her fingers plunging in and out of her slick cunt.
The audio is crystal clear, you can hear how wet she is, hear the sounds she’s making.
She’s moaning your name, begging for you, telling you how badly she wishes it was your hands, your mouth. “Please, baby,” she whimpers in one video, her voice shaky. “I need you so bad.”
bestie!lara who marks you up.
The next time you’re alone, she’s not wasting any time, she’s leaving hickeys all over your neck and chest, dark purple bruises that are impossible to hide.
“He’ll see these,” she says, her voice smug as she sucks another mark onto your collarbone. “I want him to see them. I want him to know you’re mine.”
bestie!lara who fucks you in his car.
You’re supposed to be meeting him for a quick lunch, but Lara shows up instead.
She pushes you into the passenger seat of his sedan, parked in the garage. “Five minutes,” she says, already working your jeans down, she’s on her knees on the pavement, her mouth on your clit, her fingers digging into your thighs.
It’s fast and dirty, the risk of getting caught making it all hotter. You come with your hand pressed over your mouth, your body shaking.
bestie!lara who gets you alone in the bathroom at a crowded bar.
She locks the door and crowds you against the sink, her hands on your waist.
“He’s out there acting like an idiot,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your neck. “And I’m in here with you. Tell me you don’t see the difference.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer before she kisses you, hard and messy.
It’s all teeth and tongue, a desperate, claiming thing that makes your knees weak.
bestie!lara who eats you out on her living room floor, the tv playing some shitty movie you’re not watching.
She’s on her stomach between your legs, her arms wrapped around your thighs to hold you open, she’s methodical, almost clinical, like she’s mapping every part of you with her tongue.
She loves it, gets off on it, you can feel the vibrations of her moans against your clit when you grip her hair.
bestie!lara who fucks you with her fingers on the couch, slow and deep, while she tells you all the things she’d do differently if you were hers.
“I’d never make you wait,” she says, pumping her fingers in and out. “I’d answer your fucking texts. I’d take you out and show you off.”
She curls her fingers just right, and you arch off the couch, a broken cry tearing from your throat. “Yeah, that’s it. I’d make you come every single day. Sometimes twice.”
bestie!lara who’s there when you finally do it.
You text your boyfriend ‘we’re done’ while Lara’s watching you, her expression unreadable.
When you toss your phone onto the nightstand, she’s on you in a second, rolling you over and settling between your legs.
This time it’s different.
There’s no rush, no anger.
It’s just her mouth on yours, her hands all over you, touching you like she’s been waiting forever for this. When she finally pushes inside you with the strap, it’s slow, deliberate. She’s looking right into your eyes.
“Say it,” she whispers, her hips moving in a steady, deep rhythm.
You wrap your legs around her, pulling her deeper. “I’m yours,” you breathe.
She smiles, a real, genuine smile that you’ve rarely seen. “Damn right you are.”
bestie!lara who looks at you across a crowded room and her whole face softens.
It doesn’t matter if you’re at a party or a shitty dive bar or in the middle of a grocery store. Her eyes find you, and for a second, it’s like no one else exists. It’s a look that says, ‘there you are.’ It’s a look that says, ‘home.’
bestie!lara who genuinely loves you, every single part.
the bedroom door clicked shut behind lara, the muffled chatter of the girls drifting up from downstairs in the house. it had been two months, two endless months of sold out shows, late night buses, and stolen glances across crowded green rooms. you were already sprawled out on the bed, exhausted after the full day of chaos that came with your world, your body sinking into the soft sheets, limbs heavy with fatigue. lara's eyes locked onto you the moment she entered, and a low groan escaped her lips at the sight, your body stretched out, vulnerable and inviting, stirring something primal in her after the long separation.
she crossed the room slowly, her gaze never leaving you, and sank onto the edge of the bed. her hands trembled slightly as they reached for your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks in a caress that lingered, tracing down your jaw and neck with a feather-light touch that sent warmth pooling low in your belly.
she crawled closer, her hands sliding up to frame your head, then leaned in, her lips hovering just above yours.
“tell me you missed me,” she murmured against your lips, demanding the words before she would allow the kiss to happen.
“so much,” you confessed, and that was all the permission she needed.
she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that started gentle but deepened quickly, her tongue slipping past to explore with a hunger she didn't voice yet. as she pulled back just enough, her mouth trailed along your jaw, down to your neck, where she pressed open-mouthed kisses, her breath hot and uneven, nipping lightly at your pulse point. her hands wandered lower, palms sliding under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your sides, thumbs circling your ribs in slow, deliberate strokes that hinted at the worship she craved to give, her body shifting closer until her hips brushed yours.
"the girls are right downstairs," you reminded her softly, your voice lacking conviction as her touches ignited sparks through the exhaustion.
"please, baby," she whispered then, her voice a soft tremor, eyes wide and pleading. "we can be quiet. i need you. need to taste you." her words sent a shiver down your spine, cutting through the fatigue, and before you could respond, her hands were slipping higher under your shirt, palms warm and insistent as they pushed the fabric upward.
slowly, deliberately, lara peeled your shirt off, her gaze drinking in every exposed inch of skin. she tossed it aside without a second thought, her mouth following the path her hands had taken, kissing along your shoulders, down the valley between your breasts. her fingers worked at the clasp of your bra next, unhooking it with a practiced ease that belied her urgency. as it fell away, she let out a low, needy whine, her lips brushing the swell of your breast before taking a nipple into her mouth.
she sucked gently at first, her tongue swirling in lazy circles, drawing a soft gasp from you that chased away the remnants of your weariness. her free hand kneaded your other breast, thumb flicking over the hardening bud, while her body trembled against yours. "god, you're so beautiful," she mumbled around your skin, her voice muffled and desperate. she lavished attention on you like a woman possessed, switching sides, her teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch off the mattress.
your hands gripped her shoulders, nails digging in as she continued her descent. lara's kisses trailed lower, over your ribs, your stomach, her tongue dipping into your navel briefly before she shifted down the bed. she looked up at you from between your legs, eyes dark with desire, lips parted and swollen from your kisses. "can i?" she asked, even though the plea in her voice made it clear she wouldn't stop if you said no.
you nodded, breathless, and her fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants. she tugged them down inch by inch, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your hips, your thighs, as the fabric slid away. your underwear followed, leaving you bare before her, and lara's breath hitched audibly. she wrapped her arms around your thighs from behind, pulling you closer, her face nuzzling against your inner thigh like she couldn't bear the space between you.
"i've dreamed about this," she confessed, her voice breaking slightly. "every night in that bus, thinking about your pussy. how wet you get for me." her words were raw, unfiltered, and she pressed a kiss right at the crease where thigh met core, inhaling deeply. her body shook with restraint, a soft whine escaping as she finally parted your folds with her tongue.
she started slow, just as she always did when she was like this, desperate to savor. the flat of her tongue licked a long, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit, and she moaned at the first taste, the vibration humming through you. "so good, baby," she whimpered, her arms tightening under your thighs, holding you in place as if you might vanish. her mind seemed to blank out, focused solely on you, on the slick heat she lapped at with reverent strokes.
lara's tongue circled your clit lazily, teasing the sensitive nub before sucking it gently between her lips. she released it with a pop, only to dive lower, her tongue pushing inside you, fucking shallowly as she gathered more of your arousal. her whines grew louder, needy sounds that filled the room, her hips grinding against nothing as she lost herself in the act. "fuck, i missed this taste," she gasped, pulling back just enough to speak, her chin glistening. "you're dripping for me. all mine."
you threaded your fingers through her hair, guiding her gently, and she obeyed eagerly, her pace building but still unhurried. she alternated between broad licks that covered every inch and focused flicks against your clit, her lips sucking with just the right pressure to make your hips buck. one hand slid up your thigh, fingers joining her mouth, two slipping inside you easily, curling to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
"lara, fuck" you moaned softly, trying to keep your voice down, but she only hummed in response, the sound sending fresh waves of pleasure through you. her fingers pumped steadily, her tongue relentless, and you could feel her trembling harder now, her own arousal evident in the way she pressed her thighs together. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not from sadness but from the overwhelming intensity of it all.
"more," she begged incoherently, her words slurring against your skin. "please, baby, give me more. i need it. need you to cum on my tongue." her free hand clutched at your ass, pulling you impossibly closer, her nose brushing your clit as she thrust her tongue alongside her fingers. the room filled with the wet sounds of her mouth on you, her desperate moans mingling with your whines.
overstimulation crept in as the coil in your belly tightened, but lara didn't let up, her pace faltering only when her own body quivered with need. "don't stop," you pleaded, looking down at her with tear-streaked cheeks. her lips shiny and swollen, "fuck, you're everything."
the edge rushed up fast, your thighs clamping around her head as you shattered, waves of release crashing over you. lara drank it all in, her tongue lapping greedily at your pulsing entrance, fingers slowing to milk every last drop. she didn't pull away until you were spent, boneless on the bed, and even then, she pressed soft kisses to your thighs, cleaning you with gentle licks.
finally, she rose on shaky legs, her eyes glassy and wrecked. "no one else could ever feel like you," she whispered, voice hoarse and vulnerable, before capturing your lips in a tender kiss. you could taste yourself on her, the shared intimacy sealing the moment.
˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ cw: cowgirl!gp!dom!lara x sub!fem!reader, boob play ( r receives ), clit play, cumming inside , semi-proofread, riding laras dick and grinding against her tip, small amount of degradation, more like teasing ( r receives ), multiple orgasm, possible overstimulation??, public sex, smut with no plot. PURE SMUT AND HORNIESS WHO CHEERED???.
” look at you, riding me at the back of my barn on the hay biles “ lara let out a rough groan, her cowgirl hat tipped over her face slightly and her hands grabbed my hips. she was thrusting into me and i started to match her rhythm.
my walls were contracting and spasming in a way that made laras breath go crazy. her cold, silver belly button piercing brushed against my clit in a way that made my breathing run short into small gasps. “ m’fuck—lara—feels so good “ your words were slurred, like a man that had one, two many drinks that night—except you were drunk off her dick.
“ yea? you like fucking my big, fat, dick don’t you, baby? “ lara said in short, breathless, gasp. the sound of wet, skin slapping filled the back of the barn and it smelt of sex, and farm animals.
“ yea—yea, i do like fucking your fat dick. “ i bit my lip—so close to bleedng but it only added on to the intensity of the whole situation. the warm breeze brushed my back—i went harder—my ass was moving up and down in a way that was so beautiful to lara—chasing that pure feeling of ecstasy—purely because someone could drive past and see us, in such a vulnerable position.
“ fuck—your tight, slutty, pussy feels so good. “ lara moaned giving my clit a small slap—she grabbed my hips and thrusted into me with a pace and speed that i didn’t know was possible. oh goddd.
she was fucking me so hard and so good too—the kinda dick that made you babble incoherent sentences “ so good—too good, fuck—cant take it, lara “ i begged her—i didn’t really want her to stop cause her fat dick felt too good, so good it made me see stars.
“ you can take it. ill make you take it—all of it. “ her mouth latched to one of boobs—her tongue teasing and sucking on the hardened peak of my nipple—“ fuck, i-uh, lara—im gon—m’cum, let me cum.. “ i started slamming my hips down on her dick—purposefully making my walls tighter around her dick—my head was thrown back in pure bliss just off her dick alone.
“ yea? you wanna cum all over my dick? huh baby—fuck im gonna cum inside you. “ lara’s voice was a whisper at the end—her mouth latched onto my neck—nibbling and biting slightly.
“ ughn—fuck! “ i moaned as i cummed all over her dick—“ dont stop—dont stop “ i begged while hot cum coaxed her cock—the warm sensation made her hips twitch upwards as she cummed inside me. filling me so good—both our thighs were covered in a white, sticky mess but i never stopped riding her.
“ fuck—baby, i cant take it anymore, but it feels so good. “ lara’s head was thrown back and her hips moved on her own. her dick was no longer inside me but her hips moved against mine—my clit teasing her length.
i moved so i could ride her tip, my still slightly sensitive clit was grinding against her tip—i could feel it literally throbbing against my clit. lara’s hands were on her face and her body was still twitching while i rode her tip—i spat on her tip and started moving her tip faster against my clit.
my hand squeezed against her dick—not to the point it will hurt but it instead just adds to it. i rode her clit so desperately and so fast—as if ive never had it or experienced it before yet i still was craving and itching onto the smallest amount of pleasure and this was perfect. the way her cock was angled against my clit—hitting the right spots there.
“ yea baby—just like that, m’gonna cum all over your pretty clit. “ lara moaned out and her fingers found my tits. rubbing, twisting and twirling them in her finger. i bit my lip and my hips moved faster against her tip. my wrist moving in circles, up and down, side to side.
“ fuck lara im gonna cum again, gonna cum just because of your tip. “ i moaned in her ear—nibbling her earlobe and then kissing down her neck. she came just from that. hot ropes of cum shot from her dick—just adding onto the mess that was already there.
not long after i came all over her dick, her tip teasing my entrance now—heavy shallow breaths came from me and i collapsed forward onto her—kissed her face and her lips.
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You and Megan are chilling in her cozy room, sprawled out on her soft bed with the faint smell of weed lingering in the air. The joint you shared earlier has her eyes glassy and her body relaxed, but there's a needy edge to her now…
She's curled up against you like a puppy, her head on your chest, but you feel her hips shift. At first, it's subtle, but then she presses closer, her hard dick rubbing against your thigh through her thin shorts.
You glance down, smirking as she dry humps you slowly, her breaths coming faster. She's so cute when she's like this—high and desperate. 'Megan,' you murmur, your hand sliding to her waist to pull her on top. She freezes for a second, looking up with those wide eyes. 'You want this, baby?'
'Yeah,' she whispers, grinding harder now that you've started it. Her dick throbs against you, and you can feel the heat building. 'Please, keep going.'
You flip her onto her back gently, kissing her neck as you tug down her shorts. Her cock springs free, already leaking. 'Mommy's got you,' you say, and she whimpers, arching up. This isn't the first time tonight—earlier, after the first puff, you sucked her off quick to tease, but now she's begging for more.
You lean down, taking her into your mouth again, swirling your tongue around the tip. She moans loud, fingers in your hair. 'Mommy, that feels so good. Don't stop.' You bob your head, sucking deep, tasting the salt of her skin until she's bucking up.
'Enough,' you pull off with a pop, climbing over her. You strip quick, positioning yourself so she can slide inside. She gasps as you sink down, riding her slow at first, then faster. Her hands grip your hips. 'Fuck, Mommy, you're tight. Harder.'
You pick up the pace, slamming down on her cock with steady rolls of your hips. The bed creaks under you both, and Megan's face twists in pleasure, her mouth open as she pants. 'Shit, just like that,' she gasps, her hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts. You lean into her touch, grinding deeper, feeling her stretch you wide.
'You're doing so good, baby,' you say, voice low and teasing as you slow just enough to make her whine. She bucks up to meet you, desperate for more friction. 'Don't tease me,' she begs, eyes locked on yours. 'I need it faster.' You chuckle softly, giving her what she wants, bouncing harder until sweat beads on her skin.
She flips you suddenly, rolling on top with surprising strength from the high. Now she's thrusting into you, rough and needy, her cock hitting deep each time. 'My turn,' she mutters, kissing your shoulder sloppily. You wrap your legs around her waist, pulling her closer. 'Yeah, fuck me like that,' you encourage, nails digging into her back.
The rhythm builds, her breaths ragged against your neck. You take control again, pushing her shoulders to slow her down, making her look at you. 'Not yet,' you whisper, clenching around her to edge her closer. She groans, trembling. 'Please, I can't hold it,' she pleads, but you shake your head, riding the wave with her.
Megan can't even protest, your commanding posture only increased her arousal. The grip against your hip returns, and it only takes a few more firm, deep thrusts for her to cum inside you, the hot liquid splattering all over your walls.
You ride out the aftershocks, hips rolling slow to milk every drop. Her body slumps against yours, spent and shaking, but you keep the pressure, drawing soft gasps from her lips. The heat between you lingers, slick and warm, as you shift to take the lead once more, flipping her back beneath you.
- Everyone thinks your bunny hybrid roommate Megan is the sweetest, softest angel on campus — wrong. You know she's a shameless, horny little menace. Sore tails? Achy ears? All just part of her little bunny business to trick you into touching her most sensitive spots. She'll dry‑hump you anywhere, anytime, all while batting her pretty eyes and playing the perfect innocent act. Once you finally catch on?
Let's just say all that pent‑up tension was... hopping hot.
● (fluff)
● (smut)
___
a/n: figured i need to feed my babies while working on the 3rd chapter of the domme sophia series
__ __ __ __
______
The world you live in has had humans and hybrids living side by side for generations now — same schools, same jobs, same grocery stores, same everything.
Basic facts get taught in middle school: dog hybrids are loyal and energetic, cat hybrids are independent and like warm spots, bunny hybrids are gentle, skittish, love soft things and sweet snacks.
That's it. Literally.
No one ever teaches you the specific little details, the weird biological quirks that no one talks about unless you're actually dating or sleeping with one.
Well, that ended up being the the main reason on how you exactly ended up making the worst (best) decision of your life when you filled out your university housing forms.
Because right at the bottom of the page just as you were finishing typing your details, a little pop‑up appeared:
"All human‑only rooms are currently full. Is it okay if we assign you a hybrid roommate? Please note: you will not be able to change rooms once assigned."
You clicked "YES" without even thinking. You have plenty of hybrid people in your life, you're friends with some, you're acquainted with many, it wasn't a problem to you at all.
So, not even a few minutes had passed when you immediately got notified that you were now rooming with a bunny hybrid.
A bunny hybrid?
Well, how bad could that be?
Bunny hybrids were supposed to be soft, quiet, harmless little things. You pictured coming home to someone who’d share carrot sticks with you, nap on the couch, and keep to themselves. You imagined a cute, fluffy roommate that your friends would coo over.
So, when you finally moved in... you absolutely, 100% did not expect to end up sharing a tiny 12x12 dorm room with Megan — a Holland Lop bunny hybrid who was 5'6 and a half of long, delicate limbs, lean figure, soft curves, and the most chaotic, shameless, horny little menace to ever walk the face of the earth.
First impressions were deceiving as hell.
Megan looked like an angel: tall and slender, no bulky muscle anywhere, just long graceful legs, smooth pale skin, and the prettiest face you'd ever seen. She had long, folded, velvety cream‑colored bunny ears that twitched and swiveled constantly like they picked up every sound within a 50‑meter radius, and a massive fluffy white cotton tail that stuck out from the back of her jeans or shorts no matter how hard she tried to tuck it away. Her nose also twitched nonstop, revealing those adorable whisker dimple. She's got big warm brown eyes that were always bright and shiny, and she smiled so sweetly at everyone that people would stop her in the hallway just to gush over how cute and polite she was.
Professors loved her, your friends thought she was the sweetest person alive, the dorm's RAs called her "the perfect tenant."
You knew better.
You learned the truth within the first 24 hours, and it only got worse from there.
Bunny hybrids were supposed to be calm?
Megan zoomed around the room at 7 AM like she'd chugged three energy drinks for breakfast, jumping over the bed, climbing on top of the desk, doing laps around the couch, thumping her feet loud enough that you were constantly getting passive‑aggressive notes slipped under your door from neighbors.
They were supposed to be shy?
She had zero sense of personal space whatsoever, constantly climbing all over you, stealing your hoodies, eating your snacks, and chattering your ear off about literally everything that crossed her mind.
They were supposed to be innocent?
Oh, no.
Fuck, no.
Megan was literally the biggest horndog you'd ever met, and her absolute favorite hobby in the entire world? Dry humping you. Everywhere. All the time. For literally no reason. And if that wasn't bad enough, she quickly figured out exactly how clueless you were about hybrid anatomy — and she started using it to her advantage to trick you into touching her in ways she definitely wasn't supposed to ask for.
______
It was mid‑semester, finals season was creeping up, and you'd dragged yourself to the university library at 10 AM with a giant stack of textbooks, determined to get at least some work done for once. You'd explicitly told Megan you were studying, told her to stay back at the dorm, told her you needed four whole hours of quiet and no chaos.
And of-fucking-course, twenty minutes later, you heard the soft patter of socked feet across the carpet.
You didn't even need to turn your head to know who was standing next to you.
You just knew.
You don't know whether it's because of her loud presence or the raging teenage hormones that was coming off of her, either way, you just knew that it was Megan.
And you were right.
Becauze there was, all in her glory, grinning wide and bright, holding a bag of baby carrots and a huge iced coffee, looking like she'd just won the lottery.
"Hi roomie~" Megan whispered way too loud, earning a sharp glare from the librarian at the front desk, which she completely ignored. "Bored without me, right? I knew you'd miss me."
"I told you I needed to study." You hissed, flipping open your notebook and trying to focus, already knowing this was going to be a disaster. "Go sit somewhere else, there's tons of empty tables."
"Nope!" She only chirped, plopping down directly across you, kicking her long legs out under the table so her feet bumped against yours every few seconds.
"This is the best table, right next to you. You're my favorite study buddy."
For the first fifteen minutes, you thought maybe, just maybe, she'd actually behave. She ate her carrots quietly, flipped through a random textbook, twitched her nose at every little sound, and every time you glanced over she was staring at you with big shiny eyes, like you were the most interesting thing in the whole room.
That lasted for a few good minutes until the slow invasion started.
First, she moved next to you, dragging her chair closer, so close your knees were knocking together under the table. You shifted away, she shifted right after you. Then she leaned forward across the table, resting her chin in her hands, staring at you like you were a puzzle she was trying to solve.
When you ignored her and kept writing, she slid her chair even closer, until she was practically pressed up against the side of your chair, her shoulder warm and firm against yours, her fluffy tail swishing slow and happy behind her, thumping soft little taps against the leg of your chair.
"Megan." You whispered, not looking up, face already heating up. "You have your own chair. Back up."
"But yours is comfier." She hummed innocently, tilting her head so her long velvety ear brushed against your cheek, making you jump. "And you're softer than any chair. C'mon, don't be mean."
Before you could argue, she stood up, and you thought for a second she was finally going to go sit somewhere else — until she swung one long leg over your lap, then the other, settling her full weight right on top of your thighs like it was the most normal thing in the world to do in the middle of the quietest room on campus. She was tall and lean, light enough that you could have easily lifted her off you if you wanted to, but she settled heavy and warm, her hips pressed perfectly right over yours, her chest brushing against your shoulder, her arms looping loose and lazy around your neck like she was just giving you a friendly hug.
Fucking hell.
You froze completely, pen hovering over your paper, heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to burst out of your chest. Your face burned so hot you were sure anyone walking by would be able to see how red you were, and you could feel every single inch of her pressed against you — her soft skin, her thick fluffy tail resting heavy against the back of your legs, her long legs bracketing your hips, her core sitting right over yours, separated only by two thin layers of clothing.
"Megan! What are you doing?!" You hissed, grabbing her waist to try and nudge her off, panic rising in your chest. "Get off, people are looking!"
"Let them look." She whispered back, sweet and unbothered, nuzzling her face right into the crook of your neck, breathing slow and deep like she was just relaxing. "I'm just being cozy! Everyone knows bunnies love to cuddle, no one's gonna think anything of it. You're just overreacting as usual."
And then she started moving.
Slow, subtle, deliberate, rolling her hips back and forth right over yours, soft and firm and steady, dragging the thick soft fabric of her shorts against you through your jeans, creating that maddening, perfect friction that made your toes curl and your brain turn to complete mush.
She kept her eyes half-lidded, her face calm and sweet, like she wasn’t basically dry-fucking you right in front of dozens of people, like she couldn't feel you getting hotter and shakier and more desperate by the second, like she didn't notice how tight you were gripping the edge of the table, how your breath was coming short and fast and shaky against her shoulder.
You tried to shift, tried to push her off, tried to make any movement at all, but she just tightened her arms around your neck and locked her ankles loosely behind your back, keeping you exactly where she wanted you, rolling her hips a little harder, a little slower, grinding right against that sensitive spot that made your whole body jolt every time she dragged over it.
This... perverted rabbit.
Megan only hummed a soft happy little sound against your throat, her tail wagging slow and heavy against your legs, thumping soft little taps that matched the rhythm of her hips.
"Relax roomie~" She murmured, turning her head to press a soft, sweet kiss right to the corner of your jaw, like she was just being affectionate. "You're so tense. I'm just helping you loosen up, isn't this nice? I liked this better than sitting in that hard boring chair."
Nice was not the word you would absolutely have used.
It was maddening, it was embarrassing.
It was so hot you felt like you were going to pass out right there.
Every slow drag of her hips against you sent shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine, making your pussy throb and ache, making you painfully aware of how wet you were getting, how easy it would be for her to feel it through all the layers. You were terrified someone would look over and see exactly what she was doing, terrified anyone would notice the way her hips moved, the way she was practically squirming on top of you, the way you were gripping her waist like you were holding on for dear life.
At one point, a group of students walked past your table, laughing and talking quietly, and Megan leaned even closer, pressing her chest flush against yours, grinding harder and slower against you, her nose nuzzling fast and messy against your neck like she was just being cuddly.
"Hi guys!" She called out cheerfully, waving at them over your shoulder like she wasn't making you completely lose your mind right now. "Yeah we're just studying! Isn't it so nice and quiet here? My favorite place to hang out with my favorite person!"
They smiled and waved back, cooing over how cute and sweet she was, how lucky you were to have such an affectionate roommate, and you just sat there red as a tomato, dying of embarrassment, wanting to push her away but also wanting to pull her closer, completely trapped by her chaos and her affection.
Are people here fucking blind?
When they finally walked away, Megan turned her head to grin at you, all smug and pleased, her ears twitching with amusement, her brown eyes dark and bright and knowing.
"See? Everyone loves me. They think I'm an angel. Only you know I'm a menace, huh?" She teased, her voice dropping low and rough and only for you to hear, grinding down harder, making you bite back a moan so hard your jaw ached.
"And I can feel how much you love it too. You're practically grinding back against me right now, baby. You like sitting here with me on your lap, like everyone seeing you're mine, like getting off on this as much as I do, don’t you? Like knowing I can make you fall apart anywhere, anytime, no matter where we are?"
You didn't answer, you couldn't answer, you just grabbed your stuff and practically ran out of the library the second she finally climbed off you, her loud bright laugh following you all the way down the hallway, knowing full well she'd won this round, and she'd be doing it again and again until you finally gave her exactly what she wanted.
______
After she got away with the dry-humping this for weeks, she quickly realized just how easy it was to tease you, and she started branching out, coming up with more and more ridiculous excuses to get you to touch her in all the most sensitive places. The next one was even more shameless, and even more effective, because you were completely clueless about hybrid anatomy.
It was a rainy Tuesday evening, you were sitting on the couch eating dinner and watching a movie, when Megan came bouncing into the room, ears drooping all the way down against her head, nose twitching fast and distressed, tail tucked tight between her legs, looking like she was in absolute agony.
She flopped down right next to you, leaning her whole weight against your side, letting out little soft whimpers that sounded so real you immediately put your bowl down, concerned as hell.
"Roomie..." She whined, pressing her face into your shoulder, her long ears dragging over your arm. "I wore my headphones too long during practice today, and my ears hurt so bad… the muscles and the nerves inside get all tight and sore, it's the worst pain ever, I can barely even move them. Can you help me? You're so good at making things feel better!"
You blinked, confused but sympathetic.
You'd never heard of ear muscles getting sore, but then again, you didn't know anything about bunny hybrid biology! "Oh, that sounds terrible. Yeah, sure I'll help! What do you want me to do?"
Megan immediately perked up just a tiny bit, her nose scrunching, her tail twitching like she was excited, but she kept up the perfect act, turning her head so her long velvety ears were resting right in your lap, turning the soft sensitive inner side up towards you. "Just rub them gently! Start at the base, right where they connect to my head, and stroke slow and soft all the way up to the tip. Don't press too hard, they're really tender right now, and be careful with the insides, that's where all the nerves are!"
You nodded, leaning down and gently resting your hands on her ears. They felt incredible — softer than the finest velvet, warm and smooth, covered in such delicate fine fur it felt like touching cloud. You started doing exactly what she said, rubbing slow gentle circles at the base, stroking light and careful all the way up, completely focused on being helpful and gentle, not noticing the way her whole body went rigid the second your fingers touched her.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth fell open in a silent gasp, her legs kicked out a little like she was trying to hold herself back, her tail went from limp to wagging so hard it smacked against the couch cushion over and over again.
Megan let out a shaky, breathy little moan that she quickly turned into a sigh, pressing her head harder into your lap, her whole body going soft and pliant under your touch.
"O‑oh— yeah… right there…" She mumbled, voice all wobbly and high, like she was struggling to speak. "That feels… so much better… you're doing it perfectly, don't stop…"
You didn't notice anything wrong. You just thought you were being a good friend, thought you were helping her with a real injury, thought that was just how it felt to have sore ears massaged. "Really? Good! Is it still hurting? Should I go slower? Or softer?"
"SOFTER! YES!" She yelped way too fast, then cleared her throat and lowered her voice, all sweet and innocent again, her cheeks and the insides of her ears flushed bright pink, glowing even through her fur. "I mean — yeah, softer is better! Bunny ears are super sensitive, way more sensitive than human skin, so light touches feel the best. You're amazing at this, seriously. I don't know what I'd do without you."
You sat there for almost twenty minutes, just rubbing and stroking her ears, completely unaware that for a bunny hybrid, the ears are sensitive — that touching them like that, gentle and slow and careful, was basically the equivalent of stimulation, that every little stroke sent electric shocks of pleasure racing through her whole body, making her soaked and throbbing and desperate, making her want to flip you over and fuck you right there on the couch.
You had no idea that she was biting her lip so hard she was almost drawing blood, that she was clenching her thighs together tight to try and get some friction, that she was holding back loud moans and whimpers the whole time, just so she could keep you touching her like that.
When you finally stopped, pulling your hands away and saying "hope that feels better now!", she let out a shaky, ragged breath, turning to look at you with eyes dark and blown out, pupils so big they almost swallowed up the brown, her face flushed bright red all the way down her neck. She looked like she'd just run a marathon, or just come really hard, and you just thought she was relaxed and tired from the pain.
"It… it feels way better." Megan breathed, voice rough and hoarse, grinning at you all shaky and satisfied. "You really are the best roomie ever. Seriously. I owe you big time."
You were completely clueless, completely unaware that you had basically edged your roommate, that you were driving her absolutely out of her mind with desire, that you were playing right into her little game.
______
One weekend, you and Megan invited all your friends over to the dorm for a movie night and snacks. Everyone was crowded into your tiny living room, sitting on the floor, the couch, the bed, eating pizza and candy, laughing and talking while some random comedy played on the TV.
You were sitting cross‑legged on the floor, near the couch, holding a plate of snacks, chatting with your friend, completely relaxed and having a good time — until you felt someone plop down right behind you, long legs bracketing your hips, arms wrapping tight around your waist, and a warm chest pressing flush against your back, a huge, comfy blanket draping over the both of you.
And, viola, you weren't even surprised anymore.
Megan rested her chin on your shoulder, nuzzling her face into the side of your neck, her fluffy tail swishing slow and happy, thumping soft little taps on the carpeted floor as she adjusted the blanket over both of your figures.
"Hi roomie~" She hummed loud enough for everyone to hear, all sweet and affectionate, like she was just being a cuddly friendly roommate. "You're so warm, can I sit here?"
"Megan there’s plenty of space over there on the couch." You said, trying to squirm away a little, already knowing exactly what was coming. "You don't have to sit right on top of me."
"Nope, this spot is mine now." She chirped, tightening her arms around you, and before you could say anything else, she started moving. Slow, steady, deliberate, rolling her hips back and forth right against your ass, pressing her core tight against your lower back, grinding soft and firm through both your clothes, right there in front of all your friends.
You froze completely, eyes going wide, face burning so hot you were sure everyone could see how red you were. You tried to nudge her, tried to push her away, tried to signal her to stop, but she just kept going, acting completely normal, laughing along with the conversation, answering people when they talked to her, smiling that sweet innocent smile, like she wasn't grinding on you right in front of everyone, like she couldn't feel you getting more and more flustered and turned on by the second.
When one of your friends turned to talk to you, Megan leaned even closer, grinding harder and slower against you, her nose twitching fast against your neck, her breath hot and damp against your skin. "Yeah she loves it when I sit like this, right roomie?" she said loud and cheerful, squeezing your waist gently, making you jump a little. "I'm just super clingy, it's a bunny thing! Can't help it when I'm around my favorite person."
Your friends all cooed and aw‑ed, saying how cute you two were, how sweet it was that she was so affectionate, how lucky you were to have such a nice roommate. No one suspected a thing, thinking that it was just harmless cuddling, no one realized how she was fully moving behind that thick blanket, that every slow drag of her hips against you was making your head spin, making your pussy throb and ache, making you have to bite your lip hard to stop yourself from making any sound that would give you away.
No one knew that Megan was grinding on you on purpose, that she was doing it just to tease you, just to make you desperate, just to show everyone that you were hers, even if neither of you had actually admitted it yet.
Halfway through the movie that night, you can't even catch a fucking break.
You felt her hand slip down, resting casually on your thigh, sliding slowly higher and higher until her fingers were brushing right over the front of your sweatpants, pressing light little touches right against your core, right where you were already aching and desperate. You gasped quietly, grabbing her wrist to stop her, and she just laughed soft and quiet against your ear, nipping gently at your lobe, her voice low and rough and only for you to hear.
"Relax, babe." She whispered, grinding harder against you, making you bite back a moan.
"No one's paying attention. Everyone thinks I'm just being cute and cuddly. Only you know what I'm doing, only you know how bad I want you right now… can feel how wet you are through your pants, baby, you're so easy for me. Love knowing I can turn you on just by touching you a little bit, just by being close to you."
You didn't know what to say, even if you do, you couldn't literally say anything, you just sat there for the rest of the night, trapped between your friends and your chaotic, horny bunny roommate, your mind completely blank, your body burning hot and desperate, knowing full well that once everyone left, she was never going to let you get away with this.
And sure enough, the second the door clicked shut behind the last person, Megan finally let go of you, leaving you in the living room to head to her bed with a sweet peck on your cheek and a teasing goodbye as if she hadn't just basically left you wet and burning.
______
After that whole fiasco, the next few days soon calmed down, and you could actually take a fucking breather finally. There were no grinding, no dry-humping, no teasing touches.
Thank god, honestly.
Though, that lasted only for a few more days until into the semester, Megan came limping into the room one afternoon, ears drooping low, tail tucked between her legs, putting on the most pathetic little act you'd ever seen. She flopped onto the couch next to you, big dark brown eyes wide and watery, nose twitching like she was in real pain.
Unbeknownst to you, after having her little fix of you massaging her ears innocently a few weeks ago, she figured on why not try out the most sensitive part of her, more sensitive than her ears even, her tail?
"Roomie~" She whined, soft and sweet, leaning her whole weight against your side. "I carried way too many textbooks back from the library, and my tail is so sore… the muscles back there are all tight and achy, it hurts so bad I can barely sit down. Can you help me? You're good at rubbing things!"
You, being the nice, clueless human you were, didn't think twice. She hadn't pull any tricks these past few days, she was actually behaving so, why not?
And you'd seen people rub each other’s sore shoulders or backs a million times, it was just a normal nice thing to do, plus, you already had experience from massaging her ears.
"Oh, yeah sure, no problem. Where does it hurt?"
Megan immediately perked up, ears shooting halfway up, tail twitching just a little like she was excited, but she kept up the act perfectly.
Yeah, she's gonna enjoy this.
She turned around, knelt on the couch, pushed her shorts down just enough to expose the base of her tail — soft, thick white fur covering warm, smooth skin, right above the curve of her ass. "Right here! All along the base, it's all tense and sore. Just rub it nice and slow, okay? Don't press too hard, it's really sensitive."
You nodded, leaning forward and gently resting your hands on the soft fluffy fur. It felt amazing — softer than any blanket or stuffed animal you'd ever touched, warm and smooth under your fingers. You started rubbing slow and gentle, exactly like you would if you were massaging someone's sore back, kneading carefully at the "tight muscles" she was talking about.
The second your hands touched her, Megan froze completely.
Her ears shot straight up in the air, stiff as boards, her dark eyes dilating, and her big fluffy tail went from limp to wagging so hard it smacked against your arm over and over again. She let out a weird high‑pitched little squeak, then immediately covered it up with a fake sigh, leaning back against your hands like it was the most relaxing thing in the world.
"O-oh– yeah… right there…" She mumbled, voice all wobbly and breathy, her whole body going soft and pliant under your touch. "That feels so much better… you're really good at this."
You didn't notice anything wrong. You were too busy thinking you were being a good roommate, feeling proud that you were helping her. "Really? Good! Is it still sore? Should I press harder?"
Megan's tail stiffened at that, squeezing her thighs as she tries to gather her bearings. She was sure that if you went harder, she'll probably gush all over the place.
"NO!" She yelped way too fast, again, then cleared her throat and lowered her voice, all sweet and innocent again. "N-No, soft is better! Bunnies have really soft skin and sensitive muscles, remember? I told you that before. Gentle touches are the best, it helps us relax. Keep doing exactly that, please..."
And, so you did.
You sat there for ten whole minutes, slow, gentle circles pressed right at the soft, fluffy base of her tail, completely unaware that for any bunny hybrid, that spot isn't just some random muscle group — it's one of their most erogenous, hyper‑sensitive zones, every nerve ending wired straight to pleasure, just as sensitive as a clit or the tip of a dick, maybe even more so. Touching it like this didn't feel like a soothing massage to her; it felt like you were deliberately teasing her, edging her so slow and steady it made her head spin, driving her absolutely out of her mind with need she couldn't do a single thing about.
You had no idea that every time your warm, rough fingertips brushed over that exact sweet spot, it sent sharp, electric shocks of pleasure shooting all the way up her spine, pooling hot and heavy low in her belly, making her pussy throb and ache and get so wet her underwear was already sticking uncomfortably to her swollen, aching folds. You didn't notice the way her breath caught every time you pressed just a little deeper, or how her hips would instinctively jerk back a tiny bit, chasing more of that perfect, maddening friction like she couldn't help herself, desperate for even a fraction more of the feeling you had no idea you were giving her.
You thought you were just being a good friend, helping work out a little stiffness from a long day — you had no clue you were touching the one part of her body that made her want to throw all her cute little innocent acts out the window, turn around, and climb right into your lap to grind against you until you both couldn't think straight.
Oh, and Megan?
She ate every single second of it up, absolutely drunk on how sweet and clueless you were, how good your hands felt on the one spot that made her lose all control.
She leaned her full weight back against your legs, letting her head loll back a little against the couch cushion, big brown eyes half‑lidded and glassy, dark with desire she tried so hard to pass off as relaxation. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink, the blush spreading all the way down her slender neck and even creeping up the insides of her long soft ears, turning the pale fur there a deep, warm rose color that gave her away if you'd only been paying attention.
God, she felt like she was in nirvana.
Soft, breathy little whimpers and shaky little hums kept falling from her parted lips, quiet enough that you just wrote them off as happy, relieved sounds, never guessing they were moans, pure and simple, pulled out of her by every little stroke of your fingers.
Every time you rubbed a little slower, or pressed a little firmer, or brushed your thumb right over the most sensitive little patch of skin hidden under all that fluff, she'd let out a tiny, breathless gasp and have to bite hard on her lower lip to keep from crying out too loud, squeezing her thighs tight together to try and get any kind of friction against her throbbing, soaked core that was aching for anything more you'd give her.
Her big fluffy white tail didn't just wag — it shook, thumping hard and fast against the couch cushions and your legs, so rough and constant the whole couch rocked back and forth a little under you, a dead giveaway of just how turned on and desperate she was, if you'd only known what to look for. Megan was dripping, burning, so close to begging you to never stop, so close to just turning around and pulling you down to kiss you until you got the hint, all while you sat there so calm and sweet, completely oblivious to the fact that you were playing her favorite game perfectly without even knowing the rules.
When you finally stopped and pulled your hands away, she let out a shaky little sigh, turning around to grin at you all bright and happy, like she hadn't just been sitting there getting off on your clueless kindness.
"Thank you so much! That helped so much, you're the best roomie ever~"
Megan chirped, bouncing off the couch like she'd never been in pain a day in her life, leaving you sitting there confused but pleased that you'd done something nice.
And that became her new favorite game.
She did it every single chance she got, making up the most ridiculous excuses every time:
"I sat on my tail during lecture and it's all stiff!"
"I tripped and fell on my butt, my tail hurts so bad!"
"It's cold outside and my tail muscles get tight when I'm chilly!"
"I thumped it too much earlier and now it's sore!"
Every. single. freaking. time.
She would keep asking you to rub it, and every single time you agreed, completely oblivious to what you were actually doing.
So, when once, you mentioned it to your friend while you were grabbing lunch, well...
Hell went loose.
"Megan keeps hurting her tail, it's weird. I have to massage it like every other day, I didn't know tails had muscles that get sore that often!" You murmured out, taking a bite out of your food as you started a topic, that unbeknownst to you, would start chaos.
Daniela, who happened to have grown up around hybrids, choked on her soda, staring at you like you'd just said the dumbest thing in the world. "Wait — you stupid bitch! You massage her tail? Girl… do you not know anything? For bunny hybrids, touching their tail is basically foreplay. That's like asking you to rub your clit and calling it a massage! She's tricking you! She's getting off on it!"
Rubbing your clit— what...?
You froze, food halfway to your mouth, eyes going wide. "WHAT?"
"Dead serious!" She cackled, had completely lost interest in her food because she apparently find your misery entertaining. "If you touch a bunny hybrid’s ears gently like that, it's basically the same thing as you jacking them off. They go feral over it. She is absolutely playing you, she's been horny for you this whole time and she's too much of a little tease to just say it! And the dry humping thing? That's literally how bunny hybrids flirt! They rub against things and people they like, it's their version of holding hands or kissing! She's been telling you she likes you this whole time, you were just too clueless to notice!"
Son of a bitch– it makes sense.
"Wait, wait! Hold the fuck on! How do you even know this stuff?!" You sputtered, face flushing red as you try to take control of the situation, pointing your fork at Daniela who was laughing non-stop.
"Um, duh. Sophia's a bunny hybrid too. A Mini Rex to be exact." Daniela murmured, rolling her eyes as if she was stating the obvious. "Gosh, keep up."
"Since when did Sophia became your girlfriend?! The fuck??" You exclaimed out, furrowing your eyebrows.
"Since we fucked." She only retorted simply up as she stuck her tongue at you, standing up to grab herself a drink and to also leave you to contemplate your awareness in life and your feelings for Megan.
Everything clicked all at once the more you think about it.
Every time she'd asked you to rub her tail or ears, every time she'd climbed into your lap or pressed herself against you, every time she'd teased you or acted clingy or got pouty when you gave other people attention — it all made sense now.
You thought she was really just horny, wanting to have some fun and you were her closest target because you're her roommate.
Clearly, you were wrong.
You felt like the biggest idiot in the world, but also, weirdly, your stomach was flipping, your heart was beating faster, and you realized you didn't mind at all. In fact, you'd been wanting it too, this whole time, you'd just been too scared and too clueless to admit it.
You stormed back to the dorm that afternoon, ready to confront her, but of course, as always, Megan was one step ahead.
She was sitting on the couch, eating carrots and watching TV, looking as innocent and sweet as ever, and the second you walked in she jumped up and ran over to you, wrapping her long arms around your waist and grinding slow and deliberate against your thigh right there in the middle of the room, like she knew exactly what you'd just found out and didn't even care.
"Hi roomie~" She hummed, all sweet and cheerful, nuzzling her face into your neck, her tail thumping happy and fast against your leg. "You're home early! Wanna help me with something later? My tail is feeling a little tight again.."
You opened your mouth to call her out, to yell at her for tricking you for weeks, but then you looked at her — tall, lean, pretty, looking up at you with big shiny dark brown eyes, her long soft ears twitching, her tail wiggling against you — and you realized something terrifying:
You didn't even mind.
In fact, you'd started looking forward to it.
You'd started looking for excuses to touch her, started noticing how good she smelled, how soft her fur was, how warm and solid she felt against you when she climbed into your lap. You'd spent months complaining about her being a menace, but the truth was you were just as obsessed with her as she was with you.
And of course, her favorite thing of all was still dry humping you, anywhere and everywhere, no matter who was watching or what you were doing. If you were standing in the tiny kitchenette making coffee at 8 AM? She'd sneak up behind you, wrap her long arms tight around your waist, press her whole tall slender body flush against your back, and grind slow and hard against your ass, resting her chin on your shoulder like she was just giving you a casual friendly hug.
If you were sitting on the couch watching a movie? She'd climb right over the back of it, practically falling on top of you, straddle your hips, and rock her hips back and forth against you steadily, her tail thumping fast and happy against the cushion, her nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck while you tried to act normal.
If you were just standing around talking to friends or classmates in the common room? She'd come bouncing over, push her face right into your shoulder, wrap one arm around your neck, and grind her thigh right between your legs in front of everyone, acting like she was just leaning on you for support. Once she even did it while you were brushing your teeth in the shared bathroom, pressing her front against your back and grinding slow while you spat out toothpaste and stared at her in the mirror, absolutely horrified, while she just winked and twitched her nose at you like she was the funniest person alive.
You tried everything to make her stop, especially in public.
You told her it was weird, it was inappropriate, it was embarrassing, it was driving you absolutely crazy. You tried pushing her away, she'd just come back five minutes later and do it harder. You tried putting pillows or blankets between you, she’d just throw them on the floor and keep grinding like nothing happened. You tried locking your bedroom door to get five minutes of peace, she'd just pick the lock — turns out bunny hybrids were built to squeeze through small spaces and get into places they weren't supposed to be, so a cheap dorm lock was nothing to her. You even tried wearing three layers of baggy clothes to stop the friction, and she just pulled your shirt up or slipped her hand under the waistband of your sweatpants, grinning all smug and pleased with herself like she'd just won some kind of game.
And the worst part? You liked it.
No, fuck it.
You loved it.
You love how she gets so territorial when you're talking to another person, you love how she keeps thinking that she was slick on getting you to try and touch her in not-so-innocent ways, you love how she's not aware that you're just playing along.
That you knew all the time.
That you want her just as much as she does to you.
_____
The games, the teasings, the pretending finally halted when it all came down to a head one lazy rainy Saturday afternoon where the dorm room had been filled with tension the whole damn day.
The sky was dark and gray, rain was pouring down against the window, and you were lying on your bed curled up under a blanket, scrolling through your phone and half asleep, when you felt the mattress dip next to you.
Before you could even open your eyes fully or sit up, Megan was climbing right over you, straddling your waist, her long legs locking tight around your hips to pin you gently in place.
She was wearing nothing but an oversized gray t‑shirt that fell mid‑thigh and tiny cotton shorts, her big fluffy ears flopping soft and messy around her face, her huge white tail swishing slow and excited behind her, thumping soft and steady against your legs.
Even sitting on top of you, she looked so soft and pretty — tall, slender, delicate, all long limbs and smooth skin and fluffy fur — that if someone walked in right now they'd probably think you were the one harassing her, not the other way around.
But you knew better.
You saw the way her eyes were dark and blown out, bright and hungry and completely focused on you, the way her cheeks and the insides of her long ears were flushed bright pink, the way her tail was twitching fast and messy as she breathed in your scent like she was starving for it.
"Megan, seriously." You groaned, already feeling your face heat up and your pulse pick up speed, knowing exactly what was coming.
You met her gaze, seeing the pure want in it that made your heart thump against your chest and heat flood between your legs.
Should you tell her?
You hesitated before swallowing, not averting your eyes away from her, not even a second as your tone took on a more series note.
"I... know exactly what you've been doing. I know you tricked me into rubbing your tail all those month... your ears... I know that's not a massage, and I know about why you kept dry-humping me... Had known for weeks now."
Megan didn't even look guilty.
She just grinned wide and cheeky, leaning down to press her whole chest flush against yours, her hands resting heavy and warm on your shoulders to keep you exactly where she wanted you. "Oh? You finally figured it out, huh? Took you long enough, dummy. You're so cute when you'e clueless."
"I've been basically screaming fuck me! want me! love me! these past few months and all you ever gave me was a tail job." She snickered, nuzzling against your shoulder.
"You're literally the worst person I have ever met." Blush crept from your face down to your neck at her words and instead of pushing her away, you tangled your hands in the soft fluffy fur at the base of her ears, scratching right there exactly how you knew drove her crazy, just to get some sort of revenge for your dignity.
The second your fingers touched her ears, oh, she was a goner.
Megan let out a loud, shaky moan, her eyes fluttering close, her whole body going limp and pliant on top of you. Her ears flopped completely back against her head, her tail started wagging so hard the whole bed shook, and she ground her hips down hard against yours, right against your core, making you gasp and buck your hips up against hers before you could even stop yourself.
"Fuuck..." She whined, high and desperate, her voice all wobbly and breathy. "Okay, okay, you got me! I'm a tease, I'm a liar, I'm obsessed with you! Happy now? God, that feels so good… please don't stop touching me, I'll do anything..."
"Yeah? You'll do anything?" You murmured softly, voice coming out a breathless whisper as your heart hammered against your chest at everything that's happening.
You swallowed again, running your hands down her long slender back, squeezing her soft waist, your fingers brushing right over the base of her tail just to make her shiver and cry out. "How about you stop teasing me and actually do something about it then? You've been grinding on me and tricking me into touching you for months, I think it's time you made it worth my while, don't you?"
Megan didn't even hesitated for a second.
She just went in for the kill.
She leaned down to kiss you, messy and deep and hungry, all tongue and teeth and heat, her hips never stopping their steady, perfect rhythm against yours. She tasted sweet, like strawberries and vanilla, and she smelled like rain and fresh hay and something uniquely her, making your head spin and your blood burn hot in your veins. She kissed you like she'd been waiting to do it for years, like she wanted to eat you alive, her long limbs wrapping tight around you, pressing every inch of her soft warm body against yours until you couldn't move or breathe or think about anything but her.
"Say less, roomie." She purred against your lips, grinding down harder, making you both moan loud and desperate into each other's mouths.
"I've been wanting to fuck you since the first day we moved in. You have no idea how many nights I laid in bed right over there, touching myself and thinking about you, thinking about how good it would feel to have you touch me everywhere, to have me touch you everywhere. You have no idea how crazy you make me, how wet I get just being near you, just thinking about you."
She didn't waste any time, yanking her t‑shirt over her head and tossing it across the room, then doing the same to your shirt and sweatpants, leaving you both in just your underwear, skin to skin, warm and bare and desperate. You ran your hands all over her body, marveling at how soft and smooth she was, how perfect her long lean limbs felt under your touch, how her skin got even warmer wherever you touched her.
Good heavens.
You touched the base of her tail again, just light and gentle, and she cried out loud and sharp, her whole body arching against yours, her legs wrapping tight around your waist.
"Right there– fuck, right there, that's the spot!" She babbled, breathless and desperate, grinding her pussy hard against your covered core, the friction perfect and burning hot, sending shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine that made your toes curl and your head spin. "That's my favorite spot, you have no idea how good it feels when you touch me there… every time you massaged me before I was so close to cumming right there on your hands, I had to bite my lip so hard I almost drew blood..."
You reached between your bodies, sliding your hand into her underwear, and gasped when you felt how wet she was — soaked, dripping, her pussy hot and swollen and throbbing just from touching her ears and tail, just from grinding against you for a few minutes.
"God, Megan… you're so wet… you really were this desperate for me this whole time, weren't you?"
"Mhm..." She whined, nodding fast and eager, her eyes rolling back when you ran your fingers through her folds, circling her clit slow and firm. "Always… every single day… every time I'm near you I get like this, I can't help it! Bunny instincts remember? We're horny little creatures, and you're the only person I want, the only person that makes me feel like this."
"More, more..." Megan was practically grinding against your hand, seemingly in a dilemma where she can't decide if she's going to push her ass back into your hand that was fondling her tail or if she's going to rub herself more forward against your fingers.
Most delicious problem she had ever had in her life.
"Fuck, I need to feel you more." She halted your movements, pulling off your underwear in one quick motion, then pushed you back against the pillows, climbing between your legs after getting rid of every pesky clothing in the way, her long slender body hovering over yours, her big brown eyes dark and hungry and completely focused on you.
Oh.
You have a feeling you were going to enjoy everything that's going to happen from this point.
Megan ran her hands all over your body, touching every inch of you like she wanted to memorize every curve, every spot that made you gasp or shiver or moan, teasing you just like she always did, even now.
"Look at you." She teased, her voice rough and hot and so cocky that it made your stomach flip. "All wet and desperate just for me, just from me touching you a little bit. You're just as bad as I am, aren't you? You love it when I grind on you, you love it when I trick you into touching me, you're just as needy as me, if not , even more, you know?"
"Shut up and fuck me, Megan." You groaned, pulling her down closer, tangling your hands in her soft hair, scratching right behind her ears just to make her melt. "Or I'll make you beg for it."
She laughed loud and bright, grinding her pussy right against yours, sliding through your wet folds perfectly, the friction burning hot and perfect, making you both cry out and cling tight to each other. "Ooh, scary~ I'd like to see you try. But fine, since you asked so nicely."
She lined herself up, slotting her legs between yours, then pushed against you in a slow and thorough grind, making you throw your head back and moan loudly, your nails digging into her back hard enough to leave marks. She felt amazing — warm, soft, slick, moving with a perfect steady rhythm, every grind hitting exactly the right spot, as you forgot every thought in your head except her name.
Her long limbs wrapped tight around you, her body pressing heavy and warm against yours, her ears twitching and swiveling every time you made a sound, her tail wagging fast and frantic behind her, thumping hard as it twitched erratically.
She used every single one of her bunny traits to make this feel as good as possible, driving you absolutely crazy. She was faster and more agile than any human, her stamina endless, able to keep moving hard and fast for what felt like hours without getting tired. She was way more sensitive too — every time you touched her ears or her tail, she cried out loud and sharp, her cunt getting more slick and wet against you, her hips snapping faster and harder against yours, her whole body trembling with pleasure.
She made the sweetest, dirtiest sounds you'd ever heard — soft whimpers, loud moans, breathy little whines, your name falling from her lips over and over like a prayer, mixed with teasing little comments that made it even hotter.
"Feel good, roomie?" Megan purred, leaning down to kiss and bite at your neck and shoulders, marking you up bright and dark so everyone would know you were hers.
"You feel so good against me, so tight and warm and perfect… I could fuck you all day every day and never get tired. You're made for me, aren't you? Made just for my little bunny instincts."
"God, yes..." You sobbed, clinging tight to her, meeting every grind with a sharp buck of your own hips, chasing that perfect burning pleasure that was building fast and deep in your stomach. "You feel so good, Megan. So perfect, I love it... fuck, I'm close.."
You bit your lower lip, eyes closing as you clung against her, hips wildly bucking against each other while your hand squeezed her tail, eliciting a loud whimper to slip out of her mouth.
"Me too, baby, me too.." She moaned, speeding up, her hips snapping fast and hard against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the quiet room, mixed with your loud desperate moans and the scent of sex. "Cum for me, baby, cum all over me, I wanna feel you fall apart for me…"
Megan leaned down and bit down soft and hard right over your pulse point, sending a shock of pleasure shooting through your whole body that pushed you right over the edge. You cried out her name loud and long, your whole body shaking and trembling, cumming hard and messy around her, your vision going white for a second as pleasure crashed over you in wave after wave.
Megan followed right behind you, crying out loud and high, her ears pinning flat back against her head, her tail going stiff and trembling hard. Her pussy grounded down against you as she came, her whole body going limp and pliant on top of you, her hips stuttering slow and gentle against yours to ride you both through the aftershocks.
Both of your thighs were a mess, your mixed release and slick glistening against your skin, hips grinding lazily to ride out your orgasms.
She collapsed on top of you, breathing hard and heavy, her face buried in the crook of your neck, her long limbs still wrapped tight around you, her tail twitching soft and happy. You ran your hands through her soft hair, scratching gently behind her ears just like you always did, and she hummed happily, nuzzling closer to you, pressing soft lazy kisses all over your neck and jaw.
"Told you so.." Megan mumbled against your skin, voice all sleepy and satisfied, grinning cheekily against you. "Best roommate ever, right? Worth all the trouble, huh?"
You laughed breathlessly, rolling your eyes but pulling her even closer, kissing the top of her head, completely and totally happy. "You're practically a perverted old man trapped in a hot woman's body."
"The fuck?" Megan huffed, lifting her head to look at you. "Don't compare me to an old man after I just literally scissored the fuck out of you."
You only chuckled tiredly, pressing a soft chaste kiss on her lips because you can't even argue back at this point, too blissed out to banter. "Yeah, yeah.."
Megan only let out a convinced hum against your mouth, lips lazily glinding against yours before she pulled back a bit, resting her forehead against yours. "Psh, you like it when I'm perverted, don't lie. You'd be so bored and lonely without me. You love my chaos, you love my humping, you love my sore tail massages. You love me."
"Shut up." You only grunted softly, your heart responding for you as it thumped inside your ribcage, beating wildly for the horny rabbit hybrid on top of you.
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.
Synopsis: He was a mediocre man, you were a sweet and understanding girl. I mean, the choice was obvious— right?
Warnings: Mentions of j*nah, friends to lovers and i forgot it all else
Pairing: Daniela Avanzini x non-idol!reader
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It wasn’t right, none of it was. How could Jonah do this to her? Was she not good enough? Daniela’s mind came up with many possibilities as to why he would do this, break up with her, but over text too.
Her hands trembled as she searched for your contact and pressed the call button with shaky hands.
-
It was 2:27 AM, you were asleep, of course you were. Your phone rang loudly, jolting you out of your tranquil sleep. You began blinking away the fog rapidly and fumbling with your phone to accept the call.
“Dani? Why are you calling?”
Your tired voice came through the line, it was silent for a moment till you heard small sniffles and little hiccups from behind the phone. You froze and then stood up so fast you almost fell back down, not even bothering to change out of your pyjamas.
You knew that sound, it never meant anything good. She was crying, on the phone to you in the middle of the night. Last time that happened was her breakup with some asshole she met through a friend.
“I’m coming, I’ll be there soon Dani.”
You murmured as gently as you could as you snatched your car keys off the table and sprinted out the apartment complex. The call ended abruptly and your heart clenched in worry. This happened rarely, and the last time it happened you swore you would drop everything if it happened again.
So thats what you did, you ran outside in pyjamas like an idiot, because your Dani needed you.
-
The streets were empty as your car sped through red lights, at least 15 over the speed limit. The familiar suburban neighbourhood of Daniela’s came into sight, you slowed down and pulled into her driveway, unlocking the door with a spare key before running up to her bedroom.
There she was, curled in a ball crying into her knees, she didn’t even look up when she heard you come in. You were quick to sit next to her, gently slipping your hand into hers.
“Look at me dani, what happened.”
You muttered softly as your eyes locked with her own red and teary ones. Your finger rubbed comforting circles into her skin as she began, her voice uneven and weak.
“Jonah broke up with me— over text!”
Her voice turned agitated as the last two words left her lips. A soft ‘oh’ escaped your own as your pulled her into your arms, her tears now trickling down your neck and forming a wet little path were the rest followed.
Yet your hand movements didn’t falter, the reassuring back rubs had set their own comforting rhythm, another method to ground her. You
The sound of your gentle whispers filled her ear as she let out tiny sobs, your hand rubbed her back carefully and you placed occasional kisses on her forehead, all the way until she fell asleep, after all crying must’ve just exhausted her. You carefully slipped out if her hold and tucked her into bed before a comfortable enough pose on her beanbag and dozed off.
-
The morning came quickly, sun filtered through the blinds, landing on Daniela’s form and making her look even more gorgeous then she already was. You smiled at her for a moment, taking in the serene sight before trailing off to her bathroom to take a shower and take full advantage of the extra stuff she bought for you incase of sleepovers.
The shower was warm and nice, and after the much needed shower you dressed up in the change of clothes you had and finished up brushing your teeth with the toothbrush Daniela had bought you.
When you re-entered Daniela’s room she was awake and typing in her phone, but as soon as she saw you she dropped it and hugged you, a soft sigh of relief leaving her lips.
“I thought you left.”
She murmured meekly as she pulled back, you only stroked her hair and chuckled.
“Never.”
-
That was how it always went. A comfortable pattern, you stayed over and took care of her, cause thats what best friends do right?
Well that belief all came crashing down one day, when the line between comfort and something else seemd to merge. It was typical, She was buried in your arms ranting about something while you nodded along and occasionally gave commentary.
Daniela looked up at you, her eyes lingering on your lips for a little too long, thats when she noticed you were staring too. Your face flushed and your eyes darted away as quickly as her did too, an awkward silence filled the air.
“Uhm.. sorry.”
You muttered, face red with embarrassment. Daniela wasn’t embarrassed at all.
“You wanna kiss me?”
She muttered, your face flushed a deeper red, your stomach grew heated and you nodded desperately like a puppy. She smiled as if that was the only acceptable answer and she pulled you closer by your jaw, her plump lips pressing against your own. A little gasp escaped you, she smirked against your lips victoriously.
After a moment you both pulled back, you were in different planet, but Daniela? She looked like she was starving for more.
“What does this mean?”
You asked, your voice tinging with uncertainty as she rubbed your hand.
“Whatever you want it to mean.”
-
A month had passed since then, you guys made it official after the third date. Talk about moving fast, !but hey. You weren’t complaining.
You now laying on Daniela’s lap as her fingers gently scratched your head, making you ever so sleepy. She spoke quietly, almost as if she didn’t even want you to hear.
“He wasn’t ever as good as you were.”
—————
Uhmm idk this is a draft because i feel bad for neglecting you guys if fics and its a scheduled post so, gulp. Anyways ill make some more soon!
SEND SOME REQUESTS please before i explode into smithereens
Synopsis: small was never a choice when it came to your girl.
Warnings: none! :) (could be poorly written though.)
A/n: sorry for being gone so long, I’m having crazy writers block. Requests to keep me going would he highly appreciated!!
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The night was silent, the air was crisp and the motive was set clearly. I mean, after all it was THE Manon Bannerman’s birthday. She was never a big birthday girl but you just couldn’t have that could you? So you had mapped out an intricate plan for the best party ever.
-
The night before had been tedious, Manon had just returned from rehearsal and you put on a simple exhausted facade, luring her into bed. She didn’t think one bit about it, rather she plopped onto the bed and offered a kiss before knocking herself out. Phase one was complete, coaxing her to sleep so you could set everything up. A smile graces the corners of your lips as you pressed a kiss to her forehead before creeping out to the hallway.
You sprinkled rose petals along the sides if the corridor, soft hums filling the silent air as you decorated, this was by far the easiest part if the whole conundrum, although admittedly it cause some back ache from all the leaning down.
The rest of the night was some blowing up balloons and hanging streamers, wrapping gifts and the most important, flowers.
The bouquet on the kitchen counter took you 3 hours of tedious plucking, sorting and lastly arranging. Who would’ve thought that’d be the task that really took you out.
You padded into the room silently, slipping in next to Manon and pulling her close. If you had the energy you’d probably be buzzing about how excited you were for Manon’s reaction, although luckily you fell victim to sleep just about as wuick as she did.
-
The house was strangely silent when she woke up, the rumpled bedsheets where you had previously rested no longer held your sleeping figure. She squinted and sat up, a soft groan escaping her lips as she dragged herself to the bathroom.
The hum of her electric toothbrush against her teeth in the fogged up bathroom seemed to only make her that much more sleepy yet as she blinked away the dreariness. Once dome with her routine she exited the bathroom and tugged on a simple outfit of joggers and a t shirt, her braids half up half down, making her look that much more ethereal.
In the meanwhile, you stood in the kitchen bouncing with excitement as you waited patiently for Manon to walk out, and when she did, the gasp that escape her mouth made you giggle slightly.
“Baby did you do all of this?”
Manon murmured weakly as she walked out to the kitchen slowly with her jaw hung open, you could only smile proudly as you ushered her to the table drowning in gifts.
“S’all for you baby.”
You replied softly, your voice soaked with affection and adoration . You could only watch as her tears rose and clung to her eyelashes she she unwrapped each gift.
You walked behind her, arms wrapped around her watching intently as she opened the first gift, an amber necklace with intricate vine patterns grasping the honey like gem. Her fingers trailed over the gem gently before she glanced up at you with a handfull of tears in her gorgeous brown eyes.
“It’s perfect..”
You grinned weakly at her, when she cried it kinda hit a soft spot.
“Glad you like it.”
You murmured, a hand now planted firmly on her waist to keep her grounded, your head perched on Manon’s shoulder.
-
After the gifts had been opened, the whole party had came, the Kats brought their chaos (and gifts), Sophie and Manon’s other friends.
You let Manon have fun, you hung in the kitchen cooking food for all of them, keeping to yourself. Occasionally Sophia would come and yap to you while she helped you out which you much appreciated. Yoonchae wandered in a number if times to taste the pasta sauce (it was her favourite), yet Manon stayed in the living room, having a blast.
When dinner time came around you were spent, cooking at least five meals really took it out of you. You muttered a quiet apology and walked out to the bedroom where you collapsed dramatically and dozed off for a “small” nap
-
For all you knew, it was dark outside and the house was now filled with quiet murmurs. You shot up, regret bubbling in your gut as you rushed into the living room where Manon sat with just the Kats, it seemed the others had left.
“Baby I—“
You trailed off, trying to excuse the fact you slept through the majority of her birthday. She smiled sweetly and offered a warm embrace and a spot on the couch, which you took without fuss. You let them speak and laugh as you stayed tucked into her side, nodding along.
As soon as they left, apologies trickled out of your mouth like a stream, she seemed to be thoroughly amused as you threw yourself to her mercy.
“Sweetheart you overworked yourself, you were tired. It’s alright.”
Manon murmured, her voice honeyed, you only looked at her soft expression and grinned like she hung the moon. She never failed to look divine in such domestic situations.
Sooner or later after your endless grovelling you stood up, a smile gracing your face as you took her hand, turning in the tv and settling in. You ordered a pizza, watched twilight per Manon’s request and laughed at the poorly written love triangle despite Manon’s insistence that it was true cinematic art.
The day was perfect, showcasing that small was never a thing when it came to your girl, the birthday girl! In your eyes at least, she was the world and everything in between.
———————————————————————
I would love to say writing this was a piece of cake (see what i did there haha. Laugh.) but everything has been pretty hard now especially with school starting which might be why this is also poorly written. Sorry for not posting like at all but my brain had been blank. ANYWAYS I HOPE U LIKE PLS DO SEND REQUESTS AND UR AWESOME
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Synopsis: A small golden puppy came snout first into your life, bringing along his irresistible owner. Befriending her, how would you react when realising she had fallen for you just as hard as you did for her.
a/n: hi! Late valentines day post.. Guys I would love some requests for my dry ass inbox. Anyways enjoy!! If the ppl like this a part two will come out!!
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The park was fairly peaceful, the chirp of birds and occasional bark of dogs mixing pleasantly with the soft hum of chatter. The park was always a safe place to clear your mind, exam had been pain your ass for the whole god damn week, a breath of fresh air felt god sent.
You settled comfortably on your favourite bench, a small book held comfortably in your hands as your eyes began flicking over lines, your stiff shoulders now relaxing. The music in your headphones drowned out the noise from outside, the cool breeze on your face, the sun kissing your skin, everything working in harmony towards the goal of utter bliss.
You had almost finished a chapter when the nuzzle of a small snout caught your attention, glancing down you now faces a fun sized golden retriever, a grin formed on your face, hand instinctively scratching the dogs chin. His large brown eyes looked up at you with something you couldn’t decipher, but he was just so adorable.
“Hey pretty boy..”
You murmured gently as the puppy leant its big head in your palm.
“Lucky come here!”
A sweet voice rang out, you looked in the direction of the sound and your eyes locked with Megan, your classmate. Oh god.
“I’m so sorry he just likes going rampant at times— don’t you buddy?”
She chuckled nervously as lucky sniffed nudged her leg towards you expectantly. You offered her a polite smile and waved off her apology.
“It’s alright, he’s quite the charmer.”
You murmured as you glanced down at the dog before locking eyes with Megan who was studying you intently, eyes squinting and eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“You look familiar, do i know you?”
You grinned sheepishly, answering quietly.
“Yeah, from psychology class.”
Her face shone, she nodded her head and it seemed to ring a bell in her head, a soft hum escaping her lips.
“Well I’m Megan.”
She smiled brightly, extending her hand which you nervously shook, she settled next to you eagerly as she went on about the class. You set tour book down, fuelling the conversation with playful quips about her behaviour in class.
It was quite enjoyable in-fact, her smile and enthusiasm throughout the whole conversation made it and increasingly enjoyable experience, although it was your first time meeting her it felt like you’d known her since you both were old enough to talk.
Although soon enough, the sun had began to set, which meant you had to be on your way. You pet lucky once more before giving Megan a wave and trailing down the path towards the main street. Megan only watched as the outline of your figure soon got blurred into the bustling life of the main street, a faint grin left upon her face.
-
At home, you threw yourself into bed, giggling nervously as you typed away to your friend about the interaction like a middle schooler. You couldn’t explain the strange rush of exhilaration that came over you as the interaction looped in your head.
Megan was no different. She practically dashed into her room, text already sent to Lara claiming she was the ultimate charmer. A big grin plastered on her face, laughing nervously about the interaction as if she was re-living it once again.
Either way, one thing was crystal clear and that was the fact that both you and Megan had charmed each other unintentionally, this was going to be a long story.
-
Class came fast, almost too fast. Before you knew it you had settled into your regular desk with an iced coffee, a wired earbud in and a pen in your hand as you patiently waited for your professor who was running late.
A familiar head of pink and black settled into the chair next to you and a grin crept onto your fact before you could stop it.
Megan shifted to face you with a small nervous smile which melted your heart ever so slightly, a small quiet greeting leaving her lips, to which you replied with a wave. The awkward small talk commenced— just enough to fill the silence. You offered her a earbud which she took gratefully. You both remained like that for a while, till an email came in, notification rings washing over the room. A wave if excited murmurs erupted all over the class. Curiously you opened up your computer to the email and your eyes skimmed over it, Megans head over your shoulder as she read slowly.
‘Dear all students
It seems i will not be able to make it for our class today due to train strikes. Class is off, apologies in advance!
-Professor Clinkerclack’
You blinked at your screen for a moment before a victorious expression flashed over your face, glancing at Megan you read the little expression on her face and it only seemed to brighten your own attitude. She grasped your wrists with an irresistible smile, charming enough that you’d already said yes before learning what she had to say.
“We should go out for coffee!”
You were already nodding before the suggestion had even fully processed in your head. You already had a coffee sat on your desk but— whatever she wanted you suppose.
-
You both had tucked away into a cozy corner of the cafe, warm hot chocolates cupped in your hands to warm them from the unbearable cold that had nipped at your fingers from outside.
You had both settled in a comfortable rhythm, Megan rambled about classes and drama as you sipped on the hot chocolate, eyes filled with not so subtle adoration and a smile gracing your lips.
This would be the first of many.
-
It ranged from coffee hangouts (dates), going to her house, helping her walk her dog and just class in itself, you both learnt to value each-other’s presence, soak it in. Who knew that such a tight knit bond would form so quickly, it was as if every fibre of your being was carefully coded to match her own.
It was just another day honestly, the Cafe on campus, Megan was doodling on your hand as you yapped about the horrendous assignment you had to finish by the end of the week, but she was irregularly quiet, which raised suspicion.
“Megs, you okay? You’re real quiet today.”
You glanced at her, concern veiling your eyes. She glanced up at you, lip trapped between her teeth. Her mouth opened, as if she were to speak, perhaps unburden herself, yet her mouth shut. A frown soon played on your face, your hair framing your face just right, making Megans heart beat impossibly quick.
“Talk to me.”
You murmured, thumb swiping over her hand gently, grounding her. Megan swore then she could feel her face light itself on fire.
“No it’s just uh.. school stuff.”
Your eyes feigned acceptance of the answer, although you knew her better than to believe that, yet you didn’t push. You let her resume doodling over your hand as you filled the silence talking about whatever you could, but you couldn’t help but think what lingered on her mind.
-
The walk back to Megans home was fairly silent, you could tell Megan was thinking. The house was quiet when you walked in, Lucky was fast asleep on the couch and Megans mom was out visiting family in a different state. That left the house empty and quiet.
“scary movie?”
You grinned, she huffed feigning annoyance as she kicked off her shoes and followed you into the living room, hiding her smirk as you both settled next to each other and turned on the exorcist.
“If you get nightmares it’s not my fault!”
Megan murmured as she leaned on your side, sighing sassily, you grinned and nodded along mockingly.
“Me? Get nightmares? Pft. Never!”
You teased as she shoved you lightly, the movie began and you both fell silent, but that wasn’t before she made it clear her place in the whole situation.
“You brought this onto yourself.”
She whispered, the air from her mouth tickled your air making you ball up, she giggled softly and you leaned back into her after the sensation had passes.
In hindsight it may not have been the best idea watching a horror movie considering you both were scaredy cats. Every jump-scare had you both clutching each other for dear life, and in the haze of chaos you failed to notice just how close you both had become, that was till your noses brushed. Megan froze, stiffening. You let out an awkward chuckle and shuffled back slightly, the space ensuring the incident wouldn’t have a repeat. But it showed. Hell, even lucky was glancing at you two, he would probably laugh at you if he could.
You both had am l uncomfortable distance between each other and the tension in the air hung so heavily it could be cut with a knife. You felt so giddy replaying the moment, they way her smile turned nervous and her face flushed red, oh how cute she looked.
Megan, on the other hand was so red she could probably cook an egg with the heat emitted by her face. She was no different from you, buzzing from the interaction as her heart pumped almost aggressively against her chest. Your face had been so close, she couldn’t help but wonder how it would’ve felt if it was your lips brushing her own instead.
-
Before you knew it,the movie had ended (which by the way scared the living crap out of you, had you jumping at the most random noises.) You both had settled on opposite ends of Megan’s bed, getting ready for sleep. You looked practically passed out, you felt her eyes on you. You stayed unbothered, arm draped over your face lazily, breathing calm and even.
Megan shuffled closer, assuming you had fallen asleep and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, a small smile forming on her face as she soaked in the sight of your blissful state.
She stayed leaning over you for a moment, her eyes roaming over your face. She smelt faintly of her lavender shampoo and familiar delectable floral perfume.
“God i love you so much. I wish you knew.
She breathed, it felt almost sinful hearing the words she uttered. They seemed too private, a secret held between her and the four walls of the room, not meant to grace your ears. You froze, staying still and hoping she wouldn’t realise you had heard her hushed confession.
Oh dear, it seemed you hadn’t planned accordingly for this.
—
HI GUYSSSS THIS IS FOR VALENTINES. THERE WILL BE A PART TWO IF REQUESTED. Also guys seriously i would really appreciate some request considering my brain is void of any ideas. Please help a girl out
content. manon x fem!reader smut degradation dildo use mommy kink dirty talk
if you don't like it don't read it :)
a/n: I had this one from yesterday idk why I never posted it
"Come on, baby, sit down."
Manon is standing in front of you, impeccable. The black pantsuit fits her perfectly, the white shirt, the high heels that make her look even more imposing, her makeup flawless. She's ready to leave for an important meeting and can't ruin her outfit.
And you're on the floor, naked, trembling, staring at the dildo stuck to the living room floor. It's huge. Purple. The suction cup glued to the wood. The length is almost insulting and the thickness makes your lips go dry.
"Did you go deaf?" Manon asks, her voice a sweet but firm whisper. She points at the dildo with the tip of her heel. "I told you to sit on it."
"It's too big, Mommy," you whisper, your voice broken. "It won't fit."
"Of course it will. It's fit before."
"But never by myself…"
"You're not alone, baby. I'm here. To watch."
Manon sits on the couch in front of you. She crosses one leg over the other. She rests her chin on her hand. She looks down at you with a pure smile.
"Come on," she says. "I don't have all day."
You squat down. You crawl to the dildo. The purple tip touches your entrance. You push just a little. The head goes in with a wet pop, and you moan.
"Like that," Manon says. "So pretty. Now go all the way down."
You can't. The dildo is too thick, too long. You get halfway and feel like you're going to tear. Your thighs tremble. Your hands sweat. You try to go lower, but your body won't obey.
"I can't, Mommy," you cry. "It won't all fit."
"You can't?" Manon stands up. She walks toward you. Her heels click on the wood floor. She crouches behind you. Her hand grabs your neck. "Of course you can."
She pushes you down.
The dildo goes all the way in. All at once. The tip hits your cervix and you scream. Tears fall to the floor. Your arms buckle, your face almost touching the wood. Manon doesn't let go of your neck. She keeps you there, down, full.
"Good," she says, her voice a purr. "Like that. That's how I like it. Now move."
You start moving. Up and down. The dildo goes in and out, in and out. The sound is wet, obscene. Manon sits back down on the couch. She crosses her legs. She watches you.
"Like that, my good girl," she says. "Fucking yourself like a whore. See? You could do it."
"Mommy…" you moan, your voice cut off by each movement. "Mommy, I'm not going to be able to come…"
"Yes, you will."
"I'm too sensitive…"
"But you're the one who begged me to fuck you, baby." Manon tilts her head. She smiles. "And now you have to finish what you started."
You speed up the rhythm. Your thighs burn. Your knees are red. And you feel the orgasm start to grow.
"Mommy…"
"Let yourself come. Come for me. Show me."
The orgasm shakes your whole body. Your back arches, your fingers grip the floor. Hot liquid drips down the dildo, soaks the floor, soaks everything.
"Very good," she says. She stands up. Straightens her jacket. Looks at herself in the living room mirror. "Now clean everything up. When I get back, I want the floor spotless."
