skarpetaspodnapleta

[skarpetaspodnapleta]

I swear, when I see her, my pussy clenches around her imaginary fingers, so wet as if I were rubbing it with lube. God, how much I want to spend time with her in the bedroom! And we will be like..

Without hesitation, without restraint, without shame, from the first glance to the final shiver, from whispered words to desperate gasps. From the living room couch, where clothes are pushed aside in a frenzy, to the hallway walls that witness every stolen touch, every teasing pause, every lingering kiss that leaves trails of heat in its wake. From the soft carpet beneath our knees to the firm grip of hands tangled in hair, holding on like the world outside has ceased to exist.

From the balcony where the night air cools flushed skin, to the bedroom where moonlight spills across tangled sheets, illuminating the arch of her back, the curve of her lips parted in surrender. From the slow drag of fingertips mapping familiar territory, to the sharp grip of thighs locking tight, refusing to let go. Every whispered plea swallowed by the dark, every ragged breath heavy with need, every inch of skin claimed and reclaimed with unrelenting hunger.

From stolen moments in the kitchen, where flour-dusted hands leave prints in places they shouldn't, to the laundry room where the hum of machines hides the sound of muffled cries and bitten lips. From the edge of the bed, where patience unravels thread by thread, to the floor where nothing but raw desire remains. Her name, a mantra, a prayer, a demand—echoing, pleading, gasping, breaking.

From the tangled sheets drenched in the scent of lust, to the cold glass of the window pressed against feverish skin, leaving foggy traces of every exhale. From the quiet hum of satisfaction settling in our bones, to the teasing touch that sparks it all again. No moment wasted, no touch too much, no place left unexplored.

From dusk till dawn, from dawn till dusk, from the first taste of her lips to the final, trembling sigh. And even then, it's never enough.

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HOW CAN YOU WRITE LIKE THIS?! TEACH ME 🤞

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(I’m actually fattie so shhh)

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English isn’t my first language, so I’m sorry if something here is wrong written! 💕

I imagine Ellie fucking you with her fingers, ignoring your moans filled with the painful pleasure as she pushes you to orgasm for the third time in just an hour.

It all started with some minor argument in your relationship, where she said one word too many, and you, full of anger, ignored her all evening until she decided to approach you herself.

Ellie lay down slightly behind you on the couch while you were watching one of those old 90s romantic comedies. “Are you planning to ignore me all evening?” she whispered into your ear, lightly brushing her nose against your neck and the sensitive spot just behind your ear. “Yes,” you replied curtly without even looking at her, despite the shivers her movement sent over your skin… but she noticed..

Perhaps that’s why you now find yourself with your face buried in the couch cushions, ass in the air, as she thrusts her fingers into your dripping pussy with a grin. “You can handle this, baby… You were so determined to ignore me, I’m sure you can endure what I’m giving you now.”

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Abby Anderson x Male Reader Headcannons!!!

She fucks your sister.

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Without limits, without pauses, without mercy. From dusk till dawn, from dawn till dusk. From the kitchen counter, where dishes tremble at every movement, to the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, where every trembling breath echoes against the walls. From the walls that fail to contain the moans, to the cabinets that shake in rhythm with moving hips. From the bedroom mirror that mercilessly reflects every taut muscle and every trace of nails down your back, to the shower where water mixes with sweat and saliva, soaking everything: bodies, walls, and souls alike.

On the table, on the chair, on the floor, on the couch, on every piece of furniture that stands in your way. Missionary, with nails digging into your back. On top, with hands wrapped tightly around a throat. Reverse cowgirl, where the view alone drives you insane. From behind, with raised hips begging for more. Sideways, backwards, upside down, in every position that shifts with the rhythm of desire. On the dining table that groans under the weight. On the washing machine, vibrating in perfect sync with your movements. On the stairs, where every thrust reverberates like an echo through the house.

In the kitchen, where steam rises above pots, and the smell of spices mingles with the scent of overheated skin. On the windowsill, where moonlight illuminates every motion, every drop of sweat, every bite mark left on shoulders and necks. Against the fridge, its cold surface a stark contrast to the fire in your body. On the kitchen island, where hands grip the countertop and legs wrap around hips in a desperate plea for more.

In the living room, where the couch becomes a battlefield. Pillows thrown to the floor, the rug crumpled, furniture shifted, and the air thick with moans. On the coffee table, barely sturdy enough to handle the force. By the window, where curtains sway in time with your movements, the city lights outside flickering in rhythm. On the armchair, balancing on the edge, every tilt and angle pushing your pulse faster and faster.

Outside, where the cold air bites at your skin, but the heat of your bodies makes it irrelevant. On the terrace, where the night sky becomes your only witness. On the car hood, still warm from the day’s sun. In the trunk, where every movement feels like breaking the rules. On the motorcycle, where balance is a challenge, and every moment feels like defying gravity.

In the car, where fogged-up windows shield what’s happening inside. On the back seat, where hands pull bodies closer. In the front seat, where the steering wheel barely stays in place. In a parking lot, where the risk of being caught makes your heart race even faster. By the side of the road, where the sound of passing cars merges with ragged breaths and muffled moans.

In the forest, where the scent of earth and dampness blends with the scent of skin. In a tent, where the thin fabric barely conceals the movements, and every sound carries through the trees. On the beach, where sand sticks to sweaty skin, and the crashing waves match the rhythm of your hips. In the water, where the waves cradle your bodies, every surge amplifying the pleasure.

In a hotel, where the bed never stays in one place. Where the mirrors on the ceiling reflect every moment. In the elevator, where time seems to freeze, and the space between floors becomes your entire world. In the restaurant’s backroom, where kitchen tools tremble on the shelves, and your bodies pulse with unrelenting desire.

In the bathroom, where the mirror fogs up, and the floor is slick with water. In the shower, where hands glide over wet skin, mouths never ceasing their search for each other. In the bathtub, where warm water envelops you, and the foam becomes the only veil between you and the heat.

Every inch of skin, every hidden curve, every nerve pushed to its breaking point. Fingers sliding across sweaty flesh, teeth sinking into lips, bite marks left on necks, shoulders, hips. Backs arching into impossible shapes, legs trembling with tension, toes curling with every wave of pleasure. Breaths quickened, shallow, broken by endless screams and moans.

From the first touch to the final shudder, when your body quakes and your mind dissolves into pure bliss. From the first look that sparks the fire, to the final embrace that leaves you both spent. Without limits, without pauses, without mercy.

And then, there’s him—in uniform, the sight enough to ignite every nerve in your body. The crisp lines of his police uniform, the badge glinting under dim light, the holster at his side holding his weapon, a reminder of the authority he wields. The weight of his presence pins you in place, his voice low and commanding, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands, firm and unyielding, trace your body as if asserting control, the leather of his belt brushing against your skin, the cold metal of his cuffs a silent threat and promise all at once. Against the wall, with his body pressed tightly to yours, his breath hot against your neck, the uniform and everything it represents only heightening the tension, the power dynamic pulling you deeper into unrelenting desire.

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Oh.. the things we would do..

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Jason, pinching your cheeks : you’re so tiny and adorable

Witch!s/o : I can kill you

Jason, with love in his eyes : I know!

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Why when im scrolling through a tag i flashed by cho0chie 😦?

All jokes aside i had posted a meme and not even 3 minutes later it got flagged.. and im starting to see a lot of prn bots is it just me??? But why did my stuff get flagged but bots thats are showing naked people still up 🤔

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Without limits, without pauses, without mercy, from dusk till dawn, from dawn till dusk. From the kitchen to the garage, from the countertop where dishes topple over, to the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, where every tremor echoes in the walls. From the walls bouncing back the moans, to the cabinets trembling from the rhythm of hips, from the bedroom mirror reflecting every tense muscle and every trace of fingers, to the shower where water mixes with sweat and saliva, soaking every surface—bodies, walls, and souls alike.

In every position, in every corner. Missionary with nails digging into your back, on top with hands gripping a throat, reverse cowgirl where the view alone drives you insane, doggy style with hips raised high, backwards, forwards, sideways, on the floor, on the table, pressed against the wall, on the couch where pillows are thrown to the ground. On the dining table that creaks under the weight, on the washing machine vibrating in sync with the movements, on the stairs where every thrust resonates like an echo.

Outside, where the cold air bites but the body burns. In the car, where windows fog up, and the sounds are muffled by honking horns. On the motorcycle, where balance is a challenge, on the back of a truck where every move feels forbidden. In the airplane, where silent desperation and tension rise, in the train where the sound of wheels merges with shallow, gasping breaths. In a tent, where the fabric trembles under the pressure of the rhythm, in a cave where every moan is amplified by the echo.

Every inch of skin, every curve, every nerve pushed to its limit. Fingers sliding across sweaty flesh, teeth sinking into lips, bite marks left on necks, shoulders, hips. Backs arching into impossible shapes, legs trembling from the tension, toes curling with every surge of pleasure. Breath quickened, shallow, broken by screams and moans that seem endless.

Moisture—on the sheets, on the floor, on bodies, on hands moving with reckless abandon. Saliva dripping, bodies shaking, tears streaming from overstimulation. Skin pulsating under touch, muscles tense to breaking, knees buckling under the weight of ecstasy. The walls shake with sound, the floor vibrates with energy, the air thick, electrified, so dense it feels like breathing is a challenge.

From walls to mirrors, from balconies to floors. Legs spread, hands tied, bodies synchronized in a rhythm that speeds up, slows down, explodes. Standing, lying, sideways, on the back, on the stomach, kneeling, with hips raised, with a hand tightening around a throat, with nails leaving trails on your back. By the window, where the outside world becomes an uninvited voyeur, in the elevator, where every sound reverberates, on the beach, where sand invades every crevice.

To the edge, to the point of losing all sense of reality. Moans so loud they seem to tear through the silence of the universe. Orgasms so deep they make you lose connection with the ground. Trembling legs, ringing ears, a pulsing heart that feels like it’s about to explode. The world blurs into a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, every muscle giving out, every nerve vibrating, every breath an effort. And then again—and again. Until the very end, until everything inside you shatters into pieces, only to be reborn anew.

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Hermes after delivering Medusas head:

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me seeing that my fav character barely/doesn’t have any fanfics OR imagines

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