#this is fucking disgusting and disturbing

[manonsmartini]

Laced With Heat — A Lara Raj Oneshot (18+)

✒️ explicit sexual content and kink-heavy themes ! · oral · g!p bottom lara · voyeurism · cum play · gag kink · dom!reader · masturbation · pretty disgusting · fluff after sex !

Summary: Your perverted roommate Lara thought she could keep getting off on your things in secret. But you knew. You always knew. Messy, filthy, and a little too tender for how this started. (5.9k words)

Living with Lara had always been a little strange.

You barely knew each other when you both signed the lease—just two broke 20-somethings sharing a too-small LA apartment to split rent. She was quiet, intense, and rarely home. When she was around, she kept to herself. Her room was always locked. Her eyes barely met yours at breakfast. She always smelled faintly of niche perfume and chocolate.

But things started to feel… off.

You’d come home and your pillows would be rearranged. Sometimes the sheets were rumpled in a way that didn’t match how you left them. Once, your favorite pair of sleep shorts felt damp, it is freshly laundered, but the scent was too… organic to be detergent. You knew what it was, even if you never said it out loud.

Part of you was disturbed. The other part? Curious. Intrigued. A little hot under the collar.

So you stopped locking your door. You left your bed made a little too neatly. You started playing a dangerous little game, and Lara had no idea.

It always started with the smell.

That soft, lingering scent of your shampoo pressed into the fibers of the pillow you left behind each morning. The faint traces of sleep, skin, and warmth. Lara told herself she wasn’t going to do it again. Every time she slipped into your room when you were gone, it was always the last time. But here she was, again, with your pillow clutched in both fists, her cock already half-hard and pulsing in her boxers.

God, it was filthy. So fucking filthy.

She fell to her knees on your bed like she was praying, and ground down against the pillow. Slowly at first, just enough to let her cock slide against the softness. Her breath hitched.

She buried her face in the fabric. The smell of you was there. Faint, but real. It made her dizzy. She rutted against it harder, her hips stuttering as precum soaked through the cotton of her underwear. Wet. Sticky. Shameful.

“Fuck, fuck…” she groaned, low and hoarse. She imagined your voice. Your thighs. The way you’d look if you ever knew what she was doing. She humped harder, dragging her cock up the length of the pillow, then back down, grinding the head into the corner where she could really feel it.

Your name slipped from her lips like a confession.

It wasn’t enough.

She sat back for a second, panting, slick staining the front of her boxers. She reached under your bed, her hiding spot, and pulled out a pair of your underwear she’d stolen days ago. Black cotton. Worn. Slightly stretched.

She didn’t even try to fight the urge this time.

Lara brought the crotch to her nose and inhaled hard, eyes fluttering shut. Her other hand gripped her cock through her briefs, jerking slowly, precum leaking freely as she moaned into the fabric.

“Fucking hell,” she breathed. “You smell so—”

She couldn’t finish. She was losing it.

She stripped her boxers down just enough to free her cock, thick and flushed and twitching at the air. She pressed your underwear against the head and started stroking herself through it, slow at first, just enough friction to make her legs tremble.

Every inch of her was soaked in lust and guilt. Her thighs were sticky. Her abs flexed as her hips jerked, chasing the rush, rutting her cock up into the warmth of your stolen scent.

“Bet you’d hate me if you knew,” she muttered. “Or maybe… maybe you’d let me…”

That thought snapped something.

She threw your pillow down, shoved it under her hips, and laid flat over it. One hand working her cock with frantic, slippery strokes, the other fisting your panties to her face as she started to fuck the bed.

The sound of it was disgusting. Wet slaps. Her breathing was ragged. She was leaking all over your sheets. She didn’t care anymore.

“Gonna cum on your pillow again,” she gasped, gritting her teeth. “You won’t even know, will you? Fuck, I’m—”

She came with a loud, broken moan, hips stuttering violently as her cock throbbed and spilled hot cum across the fabric. Some of it soaked into your pillow. Some of it smeared down her shaft and onto your sheets. She didn’t stop until she was shaking.

Then silence.

Her chest heaved. Her thighs trembled. She lay there, still gripping your ruined underwear, panting into the mattress as reality slowly bled back in.

She knew she should clean up. Knew this was the last time. Had to be.

But even as she wiped the worst of it off with a corner of the blanket, she was already thinking about next time.

You pushed open the apartment door with the flat of your hand, keys clattering in the bowl beside it. Your feet ached. Your shoulders felt like stone. The LA heat clung to your skin, and you barely managed to toe off your shoes before trudging inside.

Lara was already home which was a bit rare. She glanced up from the kitchen, a water bottle in one hand, her usual quiet calm wrapped around her like armor.

“Hey,” you muttered, dropping your bag. “Didn’t expect you to be back.”

“Wrapped up early,” she said simply, voice low and unreadable.

You nodded, too tired to press. “Lucky you.”

She watched you as you moved, not in a friendly way, not even in a concerned way. No, Lara watched you like she was studying you. Like there was something sharp under her skin she couldn’t get rid of.

You didn’t comment.

You headed straight to your bedroom, not bothering to close the door. Why would you? Lara never came in here. Not when you were home, at least.

You collapsed face-first onto your bed, arms splayed out. The pillow caught your face. Soft, warm from the sun through the window, and—

Your brow twitched.

Wet spot. Cold, slightly tacky. And underneath that? The scent.

Musky. Bitter-sweet. Sharp.

You knew it instantly.

She’d been in here. Again.

You didn’t move right away. You let your face stay pressed to the pillow, your cheek half-smeared in what was undeniably Lara’s dried cum. Your heart skipped, then thumped again. Not angry. Not shocked. Not even grossed out.

Turned on.

You turned your head lazily to the side, just enough to look toward the doorway.

And there she was.

Lara stood in your doorframe, water bottle forgotten, eyes locked on the way you were laying on that very same pillow she had fucked just hours ago. Her jaw was tight. Her throat bobbed. Her knuckles were white around the plastic.

You slowly let your gaze drift lower.

There. The outline of her cock straining against her sweatpants. Thick. Obvious. Twitching.

She shifted like she could hide it, but it was too late. You saw it. She knew you did.

You didn’t say a word.

Just dragged your cheek slowly along the pillow, rubbing yourself against her mess like it meant nothing. Like it wasn’t your roommate’s filthy secret from earlier. Like you didn’t know she was standing there, half-hard and staring, desperate to know what you were thinking.

Then you looked at her again, your expression calm. Maybe a little smug.

“You good?” you asked casually, voice slightly muffled.

She blinked. “Y-yeah. Just… wanted to see if you needed anything.”

You let your eyes linger on her bulge for a second too long. Then turned away, nestling your face right back into the stained pillow.

“I’m good.”

And you let her stand there. Staring. Rock hard. Guilty. Aching.

And you smiled to yourself—just a little.

It was happening again.

You could feel it, the shift in the air, the silence of the apartment, the way the floor creaked under the exact same weight it always did when Lara thought you were gone.

She was careful, sure. But not careful enough.

You waited.

Back pressed to the hallway wall, phone on silent, bare feet sinking into the carpet. You’d left your bedroom door half-open on purpose, your bed made just the way she liked it—pillow fluffed, your worn sleep shirt tossed lazily across the comforter, the one she always lingered around when doing laundry.

It didn’t take long.

She stepped in like a thief, slow, shoulders tense, sweatpants riding low on her hips. She closed the door behind her with that same quiet reverence she probably used when entering sacred places.

You inched forward. Just enough to peek through the crack.

And there it was.

She knelt at the edge of your bed, already breathing heavy. One hand slid under the hem of your sleep shirt, lifting it to her face. She moaned.

Like it hurt.

She rubbed the fabric against her cheek, her lips, then lower, dragging it down her chest as her other hand fumbled inside her sweats. You watched her cock spring free, flushed red and soaked at the tip, already leaking against her knuckles.

She didn’t even hesitate.

She climbed onto your bed, knees spread wide, thighs shaking, and dragged your pillow into her lap like she owned it. The second she grinded her cock along the surface, her whole body jerked.

“Fucking Christ,” she hissed under her breath. “You smell so good, baby…”

You swallowed. Heat coiled in your belly. But you stayed silent.

Watched.

Lara rocked her hips, her cock rutting shamelessly into the pillow. She rolled her face into your shirt like it was your skin, drooling into the cotton. Her breathing went ragged. The room filled with wet sounds—thick, obscene strokes and soft, choked groans.

She was desperate.

“Gonna fucking cum all over it again,” she muttered, almost drunk. “You won’t even know… fuck, I—”

Your hand hit the light switch.

Click.

She froze.

Turned.

And saw you.

You stood there in the doorway, half in shadow, half lit by the hallway light. Arms crossed. One brow raised. Your expression unreadable.

Lara’s entire body stiffened. Her hand dropped away from her cock like she’d been burned. Your pillow was soaked beneath her, and your shirt was still clutched in her fist, damp where she’d been grinding her face into it.

“I—fuck—this isn’t—” she stammered, trying to pull her sweats up. Her cock slapped against her belly, still slick and twitching.

You stepped into the room slowly. “You know,” you said softly, voice calm and cutting through her panic like a knife, “for someone so smart, you’re really fucking stupid.”

Lara’s eyes widened. “Wait—please—don’t be mad—just let me—”

“Shut up,” you said, voice low. You walked closer, until you were at the edge of the bed, looking down at her.

She looked up at you like a sinner caught in the middle of confession—flushed, humiliated, hard as hell.

Your gaze dropped to her cock. Still pulsing. Still aching.

Lara stared up at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted like she was trying to breathe but couldn’t. Her cock twitched between you, flushed and slick, still leaking onto the pillow she’d just been humping like some desperate pervert.

You didn’t look away.

You watched her fall apart beneath you, every second of it. Her shame, her heat, the aching need she couldn’t hide now even if she wanted to.

You grabbed her by the chin, firm but not cruel, and tilted her head up.

“I knew you were doing this,” you murmured. “The smell. The stains. The way you’d look at me after, all flushed and guilty. Thought I’d let it slide forever?”

Lara’s heart slammed into her ribs. You knew. Of course you knew. Lara had been so fucking obvious—like a dog sniffing after its owner’s laundry.

She swallowed hard. “I thought—I didn’t know if you—fuck, I couldn’t help it.”

‘God, don’t stop. Don’t leave. I don’t care how disgusting I’ve been. Just… don’t stop,’ Lara pleaded in her head.

“I know,” you whispered, and leaned in. “That’s why you’re gonna show me just how bad you need it.”

Her whole body burned. Shame, arousal, fear—it all blurred into a single, throbbing ache low in her gut. She let you push her down without protest, her legs parting instinctively. Her back hit the mattress, her ruined pillow cradled under her hips like some filthy altar. Your sleep shirt was still tangled in her fist—wet, crumpled, and clinging to her like a confession.

Her cock throbbed between you, smearing precum across her belly. You watched it twitch, watched her squirm under your touch.

‘She’s looking at it. Watching it twitch. Fuck, she sees everything.’

Then you dropped to your knees. Then finally—finally—lowered your mouth to her cock.

And Lara broke.

She made a sound like something between a gasp and a sob, the air leaving her lungs in a jagged, helpless moan. The warmth of your mouth hit the flushed head of her cock, and she jerked upward—instinct, panic, need—before your hand slammed down on her hips, pinning her with terrifying ease.

“Holy fuck—” she choked out. Her eyes rolled back. Her vision blurred. Your mouth. Your tongue. She could feel every inch of it—wet, warm, real—dragging over her like you were claiming her.

‘I’ve dreamed about this. Jerked off to this. Fucked your pillow pretending it was your mouth—and this is better. Fuck, it’s better than I ever thought it could be.’

Spit and precum slicked your chin. She felt it sliding down her length, wet and hot and obscene. Her hands clawed the sheets. The other still clutched your shirt, trembling, like if she let go, she’d wake up and this would all vanish.

Then you looked up through your lashes, eyes locked on hers, and Lara almost came right then.

“You ever think about this?” you asked, voice thick, mouth still wet with her. You pulled off with a slick pop that made her cock jump. “When you were fucking my pillow? When you were humping my shirt like a little pervert? You think about my mouth on you like this?”

She couldn’t speak. Not for a second. Then—“Yes—fuck, yes, all the time—”

‘Every night. Every fucking night. You had no idea what I did to your sheets. What I whispered into your shirt when I came in my hand like a loser—‘

You smiled. Slow. Dangerous.

“Then you’re gonna remember this every time you look at my bed.”

Her cock twitched violently, leaking onto her stomach. She was shaking now, chest heaving, thighs tight. You hadn’t even really started—and she was already falling apart.

‘She’s going to ruin me,’ Lara thought. And the worst part was…

She wanted you to.

Lara didn’t move as you straddled her hips—just laid there beneath you, trembling, her cock throbbing against her stomach, wet with precum and guilt and need.

You stayed in that position, your thighs bracketing her, staring down like you were studying prey. Her shirt—your shirt—was still bunched in her fist. Her mouth hung open, lips pink and swollen from biting down every sound she hadn’t meant to make.

You reached down.

Pulled your own shirt over your head slowly, your gaze never leaving hers. You dragged it up inch by inch—letting the soft fabric whisper across your stomach, your ribs, your chest—until it slipped free.

Lara swallowed like she was parched. Her hips shifted beneath you, cock twitching, desperate for friction, for contact, for anything.

But you weren’t done.

You unbuttoned your shorts next—slow, deliberate—and slid them off, letting them pool around your knees before you kicked them away. You were left in nothing but your panties: thin, pale fabric that clung to the heat between your legs like a second skin.

And soaked.

Darkness bloomed at the center, and Lara saw it, her breath catching like a punch to the chest.

“You see what you do to me?” you said softly, grinding your hips forward just enough to drag your slick pussy over her bare cock. “You’ve been coming on my things for weeks. Now you’re gonna feel what you’ve been missing.”

You didn’t take your panties off.

Instead, you rolled your hips.

Slow.

Lara couldn’t believe how soaked the fabric was—so wet it clung to her like a second skin. She could feel everything through it: the heat, the slick drag of her folds, the shape of her cunt pressing down her cock with agonizing slowness.

You dry-humped her cock through the soaked fabric of your underwear, and Lara lost it. A sharp, wrecked moan ripped from her throat as your heat slid along her length, both of you soaked now—her precum smearing hot and sticky across your panties, your own arousal clinging to her skin.

‘God, she’s still wearing her panties,’ Lara thought. That thin, damp barrier felt more intimate than skin. It made everything messier, dirtier—like you were taunting her, using her cock for pleasure without even bothering to undress fully.

Lara’s hips twitched up before she could stop them, earning a sharp look—and she stilled immediately. Fuck. She was at your mercy. And she loved it.

You ground against her harder.

Let her feel the curve of your pussy ride the ridge of her cock. Let her feel how wet you were. How ready. Your thighs tensed, jaw tight, but you held back—dragging it out, savoring every twitch and gasp beneath you.

Lara could feel her own precum smear against the inside of your panties, mixing with her arousal until it was impossible to tell who was wetter. The filth of it sent a pulse straight to her gut.

You ground your hips in slow, punishing circles, dragging your soaked core along Lara’s length until you were shaking. Every pass left her cock slicker, slick enough to slide in if she just—

‘No. Not yet.’ Lara knew you weren’t done playing with her.

She felt like a fucking animal in heat, pinned beneath someone who knew exactly how to break her, and was taking her time doing it.

She’d touched herself to this fantasy a hundred times. But nothing—not even the sick, guilty thrill of stealing her pillow—had ever come close to this.

“You’ve been fucking my pillow,” you whispered, fingers tracing down her stomach. “But it didn’t feel like this, did it?”

“N-no,” Lara gasped. “Fuck, nothing like this—please—”

You rutted your hips harder, your soaked panties dragging over the angry red head of her cock, until it was messy, slick, so wet you could hear it, obscene little squelches each time your folds slid over her shaft.

It was too much and not enough. The friction, the heat, the denial—Lara wanted to cry. Or beg. Or cum. Maybe all three.

You leaned forward, mouth to her ear.

“You wanna fuck me?” you asked. “Beg.”

She choked on her breath. “Please. Please. I need it—I need to feel you, I’ve been dreaming about it for weeks, please just—just take me, I’ll do anything, I swear—”

You reached between you, cock warm and heavy in your hand, slippery with both your messes.

You lined her up against your soaked, still-covered entrance, pushing them aside with two fingers, just enough to bare the soaked, swollen heat between your legs and position yourself right over her, guiding the thick head of Lara’s cock along your folds.

It slides too easily. Wet. Sticky. Her precum is already everywhere, smeared along your inner thighs, tangled in the fabric between you. Your own slick coats her cock as you grind forward again, letting the head drag over your clit with deliberate slowness.

Below you, Lara chokes on her breath.

‘She’s not even inside me yet,’ you think, ‘And she’s already falling apart.’

Lara’s eyes were wide, nearly glassy. Her cock throbbed between her hips, guided by the grip of your hand, the tip slipping through the heat of your folds again and again.

‘She’s so wet,’ Lara thought, dazed. ‘So warm, and I’m not even in her yet.’

Her thighs trembled. Her fists clenched the sheets, knuckles white. She felt like an animal, trapped beneath something bigger, smarter, more dangerous. Your eyes on her made her feel seen, exposed in a way she couldn’t recover from.

She wanted to beg.

She wanted to cry.

She wanted to stay right here forever with your pussy dragging over her cock like it was the most natural, filthy thing in the world.

You hold yourself right above the head now, just barely touching, and look down at her. Flushed cheeks. Glossy eyes. Her mouth slightly open, waiting for permission that you never gave.

You were done teasing.

The ache between your legs was unbearable now. Wet, pulsing, soaked through fabric that clung to your folds like a second skin. You reached down and peeled your panties off slowly, the fabric dragging sticky and warm from your slick.

They were drenched.

The dark patch spread nearly from gusset to hem, glistening under the low light of your bedroom. You held them up, not just to remove them, but to show her. To make her look.

Lara’s eyes locked on them like she couldn’t breathe.

‘Those were just on her. She was grinding on me in those. Her pussy was dripping wet, and now they’re in my face—’

You leaned forward, let the soaked cotton brush across her cheek, then down over her lips.

“Lick,” you said, voice quiet but sharp.

Her mouth opened like instinct.

Lara’s tongue slid out shakily and tasted you from the cloth, and the moment it hit her tongue she moaned, soft and high and ruined. Her eyes fluttered.

‘God, she tastes like heat. Like sweat and want and everything I’ve ever fucking dreamed about.’

She licked again. Sloppier this time, tongue dragging along the seam that had been pressed against your cunt not a minute ago. The fabric was still warm. Still sticky with your mess and the faint salty tang of her own precum.

Then she did something neither of you said aloud.

She reached up, took the panties from your hand with trembling fingers, and stuffed them into her own mouth.

You froze for a breath, then smiled.

“Could’ve just asked,” you murmured.

She whimpered around the soaked cloth, eyes glossy, cock twitching visibly against her stomach.

It made you ache.

You lined her up again, this time bare, and held yourself there, just hovering. The tip of her cock nudged your entrance, hot and slick with your mess and hers, and you felt your walls flutter in anticipation.

Then you sank down.

Lara screamed into your panties.

Muffled, desperate, her whole body tensing as your pussy wrapped around her cock in one wet, tight pull. She could barely see. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but feel.

The head stretches you open first—thick, blunt, hot. Your body swallows her inch by inch, your walls clenching involuntarily as you take her in. You feel her hips jerk under you, and your hands plant firmly on her chest, pushing her back down.

‘She’s fucking me raw. She took my cock inside her with no barrier, nothing but the mess between us, and I’m gagged with the proof.’

Her throat made a raw sound behind the fabric, hips twitching despite herself, her cock pulsing wildly as you seated yourself fully all the way to the base, until her hips met yours.

‘She’s so tight. So hot. So wet it’s leaking down my thighs. I’m inside her. I’m inside her.’

And your slick-stained panties sat heavy on her tongue like a brand.

You didn’t move for a second.

You wanted her to feel it, all of it. The heat, the stretch, the grip of your cunt squeezing her cock, the taste of your desire in her mouth. You watched her chest heave, eyes fluttering as she blinked up at you, utterly helpless.

“Keep them there,” you said, voice dark and low. “Don’t drop them.”

She nodded quickly, the cloth shifting in her mouth, eyes wide and pleading.

‘She’s tight. She’s so fucking tight.’ The warmth around her cock was too much, soft and slick and pulsing. She could feel every little squeeze, every tremble, every slick drag of muscle and heat as you slid down her length.

Her brain was gone.

Nothing existed but your cunt gripping her like it belonged to you. Her cock felt too hard, too hot—she wasn’t going to last. Not like this.

You rock your hips slowly once you’re fully seated, adjusting to her stretch—‘fuck, she’s thick’—and the pressure inside you is perfect. You can feel her twitch with every shift of your body, her breath punching out in ragged gasps.

“God,” you groan, dragging your hips back. “You feel like you’re about to come already.”

“I-I—” she stammers, voice still muffled.

You slam back down.

Her entire body jolts beneath you.

She nearly blacked out.

‘She just took all of me. Didn’t even flinch.’

When you bounced once, slow but punishing, Lara cried out. Her cock was twitching wildly, so close to the edge she could taste it in her throat.

You began to ride.

Lara bit her lip until it nearly bled.

‘She’s riding me like she owns me.’

‘She’s using me. She’s fucking herself on my cock like I’m nothing but a toy.’

And God help her—she loved it.

You build a rhythm, your thighs burning, hips rolling in tight, grinding circles as her cock stretches you with every bounce. You feel her leaking inside you, more precum, slick and obscene, every thrust smearing it deeper.

She’s a mess.

You look down and watch the way she bites her lip, eyes fluttering like she can’t take it anymore.

“I bet you’ve never come inside anyone, have you?”

“No,” she gasps, voice barely there.

“Good,” you whisper. “Then this is mine.”

That was it.

Lara broke.

Your cunt squeezed her so tight, so wet, her name on your tongue, your nails in her chest—she could feel it rising too fast.

‘I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come inside her. Fuck, fuck, please don’t stop.’

She was leaking already, could feel herself twitching inside you like her cock was begging to give out.

And when you said “Then this is mine”—

She shattered. She came inside you.

Hard.

Her body jerked once, twice—then went still beneath you, shuddering in the aftermath of release. Her cock twitched inside you, buried deep, hot pulses of cum filled you, spilled around her cock, smeared down her thighs and onto your sheets. You felt every twitch of it, every helpless jolt of her hips as she gasped under you, her body stiff and spent.

Her teeth clenched around the drenched fabric you’d stuffed into her mouth minutes ago. She was still gasping through it when you leaned forward.

Your fingers found her jaw, gentle now, a contrast to how you’d used her before, and you slipped two fingers between her lips to hook the soaked cotton loose.

You pulled your panties from her mouth slow, dragging them across her tongue with a slick, obscene sound. A silver strand of spit clung from the fabric to her bottom lip as she blinked up at you, dazed and blushing, completely undone.

Her lips stayed parted even after the cloth was gone—breathing heavy, throat working, eyes glassy. You tucked the panties aside and wiped your fingers on her chest, watching her eyes flutter.

But you weren’t finished.

Not even close.

You stayed seated for a moment, letting her feel the way her cum dripped out of you, onto her skin. Onto your thighs. Onto her stomach. You leaned down, breath brushing her ear.

“I didn’t cum.”

Lara blinked, dazed, pupils blown wide. “I—fuck—I can—”

You didn’t wait for her stammering apology.

You climbed off her slowly, letting her softening cock slip out of you with a wet, messy drag. She twitched at the overstimulation, eyes fluttering, breath shallow.

But you kept moving. You swung one leg over her chest and straddled her face.

Her whole body froze.

Lara couldn’t breathe. You were on her now.

Knees on either side of her head, your thighs flexing, slick and strong, holding her still as your soaked cunt hovered above her mouth. Your scent hit her all at once—raw, ripe, stained with her own cum—and she choked on a gasp.

‘She’s still wet. And it’s me. My cum is inside her. And she wants me to taste it.’

Her cock twitched, still half-hard and aching from the high she hadn’t recovered from. Too much. It was too much, and she loved it.

Her mouth opened before she even thought to move.

You didn’t ask.

You just lowered yourself onto her mouth.

Slow. Firm. Grinding your soaked cunt across her lips until they parted on instinct, until you felt her tongue twitch under the weight of your cunt.

You rocked your hips—just once—to coat her face in slick and sweat and everything else leaking out of you.

“Open,” you snapped. And she did.

‘She tastes like heaven and filth.’

Lara moaned into you, her tongue sliding along your folds, catching the slick mix of your arousal and her cum. Her face was soaked already. You were grinding on her like she was a toy. Like a seat. Like she didn’t matter beyond the tongue in her mouth and the wet heat against her nose.

‘I’m eating her out while she’s still full of me.’

The thought made her hips jerk, her cock twitching helplessly against her stomach.

‘I’m such a fucking pervert.’

But she didn’t stop.

Didn’t dare.

You rocked your hips harder, dragging your clit against the bridge of her nose, your thighs squeezing around her ears, holding her exactly where you needed her.

She was moaning into you—quiet, desperate sounds that vibrated against your cunt. You grabbed her hair for leverage and rode her face, rough and fast, her nose bumping your clit every time your hips snapped down.

“Keep your tongue out,” you ordered. “Don’t stop.”

Lara obeyed.

She was drooling into you, slick smeared across her chin, your taste flooding her mouth. You could feel her whimpering under you—overwhelmed, overstimulated, and soaked.

You were going to come.

‘She’s using me to get off.’

Lara’s whole body shook beneath you, but her mouth didn’t stop. She licked, sucked, let her tongue get dragged against your folds as you rode her like she was nothing but a toy—your thighs tight, your voice low and filthy above her.

‘This is all I ever wanted.’

She could taste it—her cum, your slick, the sweat on your thighs—and it made her harder again, painfully, shamefully hard.

‘She’s rubbing my filth into her pussy and making me drink it.’

She wanted to die like this.

You were so close.

Your rhythm broke for a second, thighs tightening, hands in her hair as you ground your clit against her mouth with frantic desperation.

“Fuck—fuck, don’t stop—”

Lara didn’t. Couldn’t. She was whimpering into your cunt now, tongue frantic and soaked and aching, as you used her face to chase your high.

And then it hit.

You came hard—hips jerking, thighs clenched, cunt pulsing against her mouth as you rode it out. Your cries were sharp, guttural, and you didn’t lift off her until your body was twitching from overstimulation, your slick dripping down her cheeks.

Lara just laid there, covered in your cum.

Face flushed. Mouth open. Tongue still slightly out.

She looked ruined.

She was ruined.

And she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The room was still heavy with heat and sweat. Your skin was damp, your thighs trembling slightly from the aftershocks, but the rush had passed. You were no longer riding a high. You were just breathing.

Soft, slow.

You lifted off her face carefully, your legs shaky, and glanced down.

Lara was wrecked.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips swollen and glossy. Her chin and jaw were soaked with slick, a few trails of it glistening down her neck.

But her eyes were on you.

Wide. Quiet. Worshipful.

You didn’t say anything. Just climbed off her and collapsed beside her in the mess of your sheets and ruined pillow. The second your head hit the mattress, you felt her shift beside you.

Then arms, tired but warm, slid around your waist.

She pulled you close. Pressed her face into your hair.

Held you like it was the only thing tethering her to the ground.

Lara was still floating.

Her cock was soft now, but her heart beat too fast. Her skin buzzed where you touched her. The mess between her legs didn’t matter. The ache in her jaw didn’t matter. The taste of you still on her tongue didn’t matter.

You were here.

Pressed to her chest. Letting her hold you.

‘She’s letting me touch her.’

It was almost surreal. You’d just used her like a toy, like something to fuck and ride and leave soaked. But now, you were curled into her arms, and she could feel your breathing even out against her collarbone.

She tightened her hold a little. Just enough to keep you there.

You felt it. The way she hesitated before hugging you tighter, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed. You slipped your hand over hers, threading your fingers between hers, anchoring her to your side.

It was quiet now.

Just the hum of the AC and your joined breathing. The sheets were damp beneath you both, clinging in places where sweat and cum hadn’t dried yet, but neither of you moved to fix it.

You were too wrapped up in her.

Lara still had her arms around you, her face buried in your hair like she was afraid to come up for air. You could feel the tremble in her chest, the way her heart hadn’t quite slowed. Every few seconds, she’d exhale a little too shakily, not from arousal anymore, but from something softer.

You pulled back just enough to see her.

Her eyes were already on you.

Big. Quiet. So fucking open.

Like she’d never looked at anyone the way she was looking at you right now.

Your voice was quiet. Barely more than a breath.

“Hey.”

She blinked, eyes darting over your face. “Hey.”

You cupped her cheek, gentle this time. Not commanding. Not teasing. Just there.

She leaned into it.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” you asked.

“I didn’t think you’d want me like that,” she whispered.

You smiled. “I didn’t know I did… until I saw you like that.”

Lara’s throat bobbed. She looked like she wanted to say more, but nothing came.

So you leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry.

It was slow. Warm.

A little messy, from the sweat still on your lips, but real in a way that made your chest ache.

Lara melted into it.

Her lips parted under yours, her hand tightening just slightly on your waist like she couldn’t believe it was really happening. You tilted your head and kissed her deeper, just once, not with heat, but with feeling.

When you pulled back, she was blinking at you, lips pink, a little wet.

“Was that okay?” you murmured.

She nodded, then let out a tiny laugh. “Yeah. More than okay.”

You smiled again and tucked your head under her chin.

She held you tighter this time.

Lara brushed her nose against the top of your head.

“You smell like me,” she whispered, almost to herself.

You hummed. “You’re welcome.”

She flushed, but she didn’t let go.

You laid there like that for a long time. Legs tangled. Skin sticky. Her arms wrapped protectively around you like she was afraid you’d vanish if she blinked. And for the first time in weeks—maybe ever—Lara felt still.

Safe.

Wanted.

Maybe even… loved.

[liam-summers]

FREE ME FROM AGE GAP DISCOURSE IN VAMPIRE FICTION! FREE MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ahrats]

allison’s grief of her daughter leading her to murder viktor’s son-figure and then make him the bad guy for also grieving the loss of a child is genuinely one of the most insane 180 character arcs i’ve seen from a show in years

[vampire-clowns-r-us]

Image ID: A tweet from kate (katespeaks.bsky) @ hotpinkrat that reads: " 'you don't wear a mask in 2024? you just hate disabled people!' and the disability in question is always like EDS or POTS [post trails off into an incomplete link]"

there is also a retweet by the same user that reads: "my doctor friends reaching out like 'thank you for tweeting this omg' I am forever correct and vindicated!!!" End ID

We need to stop pitting hEDS and fibro against rare disabilities bc abled drs are using it to hurt all of us and deny all of us treatment. Fucking stop it

[junebugzjuniperr]

marvin petscop count your fucking days

hello to all 16 petscop fans how are we on this fine day I was just thinking about how genuinely cruel what care went thru was and how much I do NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT like Marvin…. her plight was so emotional to me and my heart breaks when I think of her :((((

i wanted to depict Marvin like the actual evil scumbag he is for once and so I’m. yeah. i fucking hate this guy and everything hedid Marvin if i catch you in the streets Marvin if

[sweaters-and-vertigo]

EDIT: don’t forget the strike today, april 15!!!!

[bitchapalooza]

Moodboard for when you read a mpreg doujinshi that you were told was your favorite ship but wasn't warned of the twincest/incest and literal rape and birth scenes that although were both censored was still disturbing and now you wanna bleach your eyes forever....

[leporidaecervinae]

how nasty and fucked up do we think macdennis can get after frank v russia? like. realistically. if they're already committing assault on one another how can fic writers be expected to TOP THAT in terms of the grotesqueness of their dalliances? like. usually my goal is to write stuff that makes fandom normies mildly uncomfortable, like I'm down with darkfic and all of that. I think with a healthy dose of critical thinking skills, you can enjoy something horrific without it being a commentary on your personal morals, but if the subject material canonically has one character manipulating the more annoying one through catfishing into inserting anal beads as a form of non-verbal communication just to get the more annoying one out of the house, like.... how does one top that? exactly? there is no form of torture more potent that a fic writer could bestow upon mac and dennis than their creators have already gifted them. so I guess what I'm saying is: I'm lost.

[aclockworkreader]

I've never read Manacled, but all I hear everyone talking about is how heartbreaking it is (which one would assume if it's based on The handmaids tale...). How does romance even exists in that fic?? I can't bring myself to even skim it when SA has to be a part of it and somehow I'm supossed to root for the ship to get together...

that’s a great question anon, how can romance exist in a fic where the fmc is kidnapped and imprisoned because she is of an “inferior” race and then sold to be sa’d and bred by the mmc who is also actively committing war crimes??

you’d have to ask people who liked it

[skitskatdacat63]

.

[dammitradar]

I know it's not news at all but the absolute lack of anything Pride related in target is EERIE

[grimalkinmessor]

No because I'm still not over this hE WAS SO SICK FOR THIS

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

Am I the only one that feels icky about 4halo marriage? Both of them aren’t in their right mind and have both have said before they don’t want a relationship with the other.

Them being married even accidentally would be against what either of them want. I just don’t like to imagine them being in that kind of situation, a fake loveless marriage…

oh yeah you're free to be squicked out by it! I, however, love that dark shit, and will be gleefully and shamelessly enjoying it.

Heads up, btw- please don't send asks like this to anyone else who's enjoying the current arc. I don't know what your intentions were, but this comes across as very judgemental for what is, ultimately, a difference in what we enjoy. you find 4halo fucked up marriage squicky, i find it fun- that's cool. But there's two points to address here. The weaker point, first: canon basis of the ship doesn't matter. 4halo canonically has like. a Thing for each other (bad has said he wants to live with 4ever and skeppy, forever Literally Proposed while high off his ass on happy drugs). but i think codehalo is super fun too and that's NEVERRR going to canonically happen and would be even more fucked up than the current 4halo arc. it's fandom and we do what we want here because these are characters who are not real. and, because they're not real, what they want is Made Up by their creators. by playing in any fandom space you Make Up things about any character you touch, and if I want to Make Up facts about them sharing a bed and putting poison in each other's coffee, that's no worse than cellbit Making Up facts about his character literally eating people. second, MORE IMPORTANTLY so i will say it again: don't shame people for what they enjoy, dude. i hope you're having fun with whatever dynamics you do enjoy, and i wouldn't judge you for whatever they are, even if they're not my cup of tea. I'm really fucking disturbed and disappointed that you'd bring that puritanical bullshit to my inbox. you're not protecting these characters; you're using shaming language to make me, a real person, upset. that's not cool. legit questions i want you to consider for Personal Growth- what is the reason that you sent me this? is it a default disgust response? how do you identify the difference between a squick and something legitimately harmful? are you letting your emotions get in the way of being kind?

[amischiefofmuses]

Send 🫂 to hug my muse and see their reaction! || Accepting

@esinisex sent: 🫂 ( sorry this was funny to me. esinisex @ cable I'm so sorry Nathan )

Tension catches in his entire body at the embrace, just for a moment, barely a blinks worth of time. Then one hand moves up to push him back and gain space as the other, his metal hand, finds his throat and grips viciously. No care taken for damage it might cause. God, his skin is CRAWLING. -- ❝What the FUCK are you doing?❞ He snarls the words low in his throat, eye sparking wildly with the simmering irritation. Were he not sure that the man would just- recover, he might truly have tried to break his windpipe before bothering to get an answer. Instead he shoves him backward, though his gaze stays fixed on him intently. Abjectly confused, wary and irritated. Disgusted, even. He's going to need a shower after this. -- ❝Try that again and you're ATOMIZED.❞

[holyshit]

.

[issa-pheonyx]

i’ve been noticing some weird shit coming through my feed about people making some incest writings in relations with Leon (ex. Uncle!Leon x Nephew/Niece!Reader) and honestly what the fuck—

it is so dumbfounding how people would defend that as well. like as a ‘coping mechanism’. no, absolutely not. there is no excuse. the only excuse is to seek a therapist (hurr durr i can’t afford it—literally there are healthy habits and methods out there to do, please, you are digging yourself a deeper grave than everybody else). it is just some fetishized content and honestly yall need to get off the phone, turn off the lights—

AND

GO

TO

BED