5sos Dirty Imagines Novels & Stories

If I knew I would've lost my job, I wouldn't have wasted my money on it. It was a plain red dress with single spaghetti straps that had a deep v-neckline, showing a lot of cleavage, and ended just below my ass. It was complemented with a pair of four inches silver stilettos. I knew I looked hot, and Alessandro just verified that by the lust in his gaze. "You aren't innocent, but I was talking about your mind. You shouldn't follow me if you don't want it to be tainted with darkness." He resumed walking again, expecting me to follow, and I did. "Besides, why are you dressed like a hooker?"

I'm a mess – a perfect, filthy, destroyed, worshipped mess. "Don't clean up yet," Ethan says. He grabs his phone. Photographs me – covered in cum, spread on the sheets, the bowl of unused condoms visible on the nightstand, evidence of a night that exceeded every fantasy I've ever had. "Now," he says, setting the phone down. "Who wants to go again?" Round two is dirtier than round one.

“When my fingers touch your pussy, will I find it wet for me?” “Yes,” I breathe. “I’m so wet for you, Owen.” “This is what you want.” He’s talking dirty, still being demanding, but double-checking my consent too. He cares so fucking much, and my heart swells in my chest. “It is.” I squirm underneath him, clit begging to be touched. “I want it, and I need it. Touch me, Owen. Please.” With his hand under my leggings but still over my panties, he sweeps his fingers over my core. I swear I could come right now if he does it again.

And the vent in the floor, I realized now, carried more than just air. The sound came again, clearer this time. A rough and short grunt, followed by silence. Then movement. Sheets maybe. Skin. I pressed my ear against the floor, heart racing. Another groan. This one deeper and strained. And then I knew, he was touching himself. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My entire body went hot, flooded with something I couldn’t name. I pictured him on his back, one hand on his cock, head tipped back, eyes closed. I imagined the way his jaw would tense, how his abs would clench, how he’d look right before he—

"Because without this, you'd die alone and untouched. At least now you have options. Some guys out there are actually considering it, Eva. They're actually willing to overlook how repulsive you are. If that's not a gift, I don't know what is." "Honestly, I'm shocked anyone's interested," Marcus chimed in, leaning closer to look at the phone. "I mean, looking at that photo? I almost threw up. All those rolls and dimples and—Jesus Christ, it's like looking at a before picture in a weight loss ad."

"One last one for the road. She shattered under his touch, a quick, sharp orgasm rippling through her, pussy clenching on nothing, juices slicking his fingers. Jax grinned, feral and satisfied, bringing them to his mouth for a final taste. SLUT SQUAD!! If you are reading this, you're pronounced "Dirty Slut Seeker" part of the Dirty Slut Seekers! We all have fantasies don't we? Bet your cock's throbbing, or your pussy's soaked right now, panties shoved aside as you read every single filthy fuck dream. Did you edge or cum untouched, or touch yourself? Drop your own fantasies here, readers. Tell me in the comments: What would you do if you were Zelda right now? Beg for more? Spill your dirtiest

I just want to get away from everyone. I don't want to hear the sound of the sultry music filling the air. I want to block out the laughs and yells from the patrons who keep this place alive. Their souls are already burning in hell, but why are we the ones suffering for their sins? I stripped off all the offensive clothes I was wearing, if they could even be considered clothes. Then I stood under the shower, not minding the biting cold water. I feel so dirty. I am dirty. The sad thing is, no amount of soap can ever clean me. I will forever be stained. Sullied...

He went himself and came back in out of the rain with the utility bill and a catalog and an envelope with no return address and a postmark he didn't recognize. He opened it at the kitchen table. A photograph. Brett in a prison jumpsuit in a visitation room, fluorescent light making everything look slightly unreal. Standing there looking straight at the camera. A clock on the wall behind him. The timestamp on the photo was yesterday. Cedric turned it over. [Your brother sends his regards. The Ouroboros Society lives on. Watch your back.] He sat with it for a moment. The rain came down outside. The kitchen smelled like the soup Gianni had started in the slow cooker that morning. Everything was

“For our private collection, little new girl. Smile for the lens while we ruin you completely.” He climbed onto the bed and flipped me onto all fours like I weighed nothing. “Ass up, Diana. Show the camera how sloppy and used that pretty cunt already is.” My face burned with humiliation as I obeyed, knees sinking into the mattress, back arched deeply. I stared at the glowing red light, knowing it was capturing everything — my dripping, cum-filled pussy, the way my thighs quivered uncontrollably. God, I was soaked.

"Clean off your body with sand. Call us back once you are dressed." "My shirt?" I asked as I held up the ensanguined shirt. For some reason, I felt the desert camouflage pattern was ruined. "He can go shirtless," Priya suggested quickly. Mona and Rachel nodded. 'Showered in pig's blood'...I didn't recall seeing that on a Cosmo sex quiz. I shuddered to think whose sexual survey would...oh, right, it was on the Satan's Sluts' To-do List.