5sos Dirty Imagines Novels & Stories

Ezra demands. I undress, leaving my soaking-wet panties on for Ezra to inspect. His hand slides over the dampness, and he is pleased. "Such a wet little whore for me to play with," Ezra says. I sit on the side of the bed, and Ezra goes to his knees. He pushes my legs apart. "I need my dinner, Veronica," Ezra says, getting ready to dine on my pussy. I lay as his mouth kisses my wet panties. Next, his tongue licks the outside of my panties and follows with his hand grabbing the center of them and pulling them off my body with one yank. I moan so loud I am sure the entire house hears me.

I shook her, that action yielding absolutely no positive result as she still sat there, frozen in place. The voice haunting my life spoke. "She can't hear you, she's in physical limbo." The Devil was standing right in front of me now, eyes bloodshot and dreadlocks their usual tangled mess. Today, he had on a black tracksuit which looked mightily odd on him, his feet however were clad in black Adidas sneakers. So, he had an impeccable taste in shoes.

Mason was working my clit and tits, orchestrating my pleasure like a maestro. The sounds were filthier than anything I'd ever heard. The wet, squelching noise of Mason plowing into my dripping cunt. The choked, guttural gags as Reece throat-fucked me. Their low, dirty talk. "You take that dick, you filthy whore?" Reece snarled, his breath hot on my neck. "Her throat's so fucking tight," Joel groaned, his hips stuttering. "I'm gonna paint your tonsils, angel."

I said, lips curling. I didn’t even have to say it twice. The three of them stood as one, forming a slow, deliberate circle around me. Dennis’s fingers tugged his shirt off in one fluid motion. Noah shrugged his hoodie halfway over his head and left it hanging behind his neck, like a man too wild to finish undressing. Wesley didn’t rush. He hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband of his joggers, then slid them down his thighs, slow enough to make my breath catch. “Is this what you want, baby?” Wesley murmured, voice molten as he stepped closer, bare chest rising and falling with heat. “Look how hard I get for you.”

I only love my bed and my momma, I'm sorry Fifty Dub, I even got it tatted on me 81, they'll bring the crashers to the party And you know me Turn an O-2 into the O-3, dog Without 40, Oli', there'd be no me 'Imagine if I never met the broskis God's plan, God's plan I can't do this on my own, a, no, a Someone watchin' this shit close, yep, close I've been me since Scarlett Road, a road, a

A heavy, thick stream of mixed cum and juices immediately gushes out of my stretched pussy, running down my inner thighs in warm, sticky rivers. I roll over onto my back, my legs still trembling and spread wide, exposing my dripping, cum-filled center to the cameras. Leo stands over me, his chest covered in sweat and oil, his softening cock still dripping a final few white drops onto my stomach. I look directly into the lens, my face flushed, a messy, satisfied smile stretching across my swollen lips. “Cut! Print it! That’s a wrap on Episode 4!” the director screams, jumping out of his chair. “Phenomenal job, everyone. That is going to break the internet for the holidays.”

I can hear his breath quicken. “Slip your fingers inside for me. Imagine it’s my cock thrusting into you, every thick inch stretching you and taking you right to the edge.” I push two fingers in, gasping at the sudden fullness, how my walls grip greedily. “Oh fuck… so tight. I can feel how you'd stretch me. My pussy's sucking them in like it never wants to let go.” "That’s it, my dirty girl. Pump them slow. Let yourself feel every inch sliding in and out. Rock your hips like you’re riding me.”

I grabbed a stool from the corner and set it down right at the edge of his bay, giving him a front-row seat. Silas rolled out from under the truck, his skin glistening. He’d stripped his coveralls down to his waist again, the sleeves knotted around his hips to keep them from sliding. His black tank top was soaked through, clinging to the ridges of his abs and the hard muscle across his chest. “You’re late,” he snapped, though his eyes crawled over me with a hunger that was anything but professional. “I had to recover, Silas. Some of us aren’t used to being handled so… roughly,” I purred, taking a slow sip of my espresso, my eyes tracking a bead of sweat as it rolled down his throat and disap

I growled, “she stays clean. She never smells the blood. She never hears the screams. She stays in that bed, in our shirts, marked and fucked and happy, while we handle the sewer.” Valentino’s hand rose, fingers curling around the back of my neck—firm, grounding. “She stays ours,” he agreed, thumb brushing my pulse. “Forever. Paradise for her. Hell for them. But we end this. No ghosts left breathing.” I held his gaze. Then nodded once. “Tell Dante to send everything. Tonight.” Valentino’s grip tightened for a second—reassurance, promise—before he let go. “Already done.” He closed the laptop with a soft click that felt louder than a gunshot.

The Reply came from the unknown: Lets meet up, Derek. Big Daddy’s fingers plunged inside her, curling hard. “They want videos? I’ll film you screaming my name—live.”