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i'm so fucking horny

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writing this fucking disgusting post to say i’m so desperate i need someone to fuck my brains off and disappear from my life 4ever

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why am i dressed slutty you ask? to read classic literature alone in my room. mind your own business.

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i hate when someone i like says, "i'm looking at you respectfully" like baby, it's okay, you can look at me as disrespectfully as you want. go ahead, don't be shy, you know you want to. why do you think i got all dressed up. i want you to look at me like you're seconds away from fucking me. so do it, look at me as disrespectfully as you please.

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Hellraiser (1987) Directed by Clive Barker

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Subversion

Winter Soldier x F!reader one shot, explicit sex ━ 2k words

I really encourage you to read my Manifesto before continuing to read my stories. Here you can see my Masterlist. Enjoy my writing and leave your feedback! ♡

An armoured car drove you to the outskirts of Leningrad. Sat on the co-driver’s seat, you could see the face of the Winter Soldier reflected in the rearview mirror. While he stood still during the five-hour trip, you fell asleep and woke up every now and then. The three of you had started the journey very early, when the gloom covered everything, making it easy for your eyelids to gently drop, with just the sound of the engine in the background. It had been a long time since you last visited the city, getting excited to see the clear line of the horizon as you approached it, as if you had almost forgotten that the Leningrad summer does not let the sunshine flee the sky at night.

It was not the first time you supervised the Soldier, but it was the first time you did it by yourself, and his bare figure disturbed everything around you. As the moment of being alone with him came closer, however professional you were with all your other tasks, the aura of terror that always accompanied him penetrated into you as well. The car did not take long before it reached the city centre and, after wandering around, it stopped in front of a newly constructed building in a downtown neighborhood. The morning was cool: a chill ran down your spine as you went out of the car and took your first breath. The Soldier opened the trunk and grabbed two wide black bags while you assured the driver that the mission would end at noon, when he must be ready to pick him up as fast as possible. The car vanished among the streets shortly after.

From your handbag you grabbed a bunch of keys, all needed to access the final destination. You went through all the way together — the exterior gate, the main door, the elevator and two last keys for the flat itself: one for the door and one to turn energy on. As you unlocked each door, the Soldier shut them behind you two silently. In those times between slaughter, he was the perfect combination between quiet and warning: effective and insightful, proficient at going unnoticed, accustomed to blending into the shadows.

In the tiny and almost empty apartment, your body sank into an armchair as he sat in front of you, on a sofa, leaving his luggage on the floor to take out his weapons, one by one. The mission was not complex, but every detail must be in order, so you decided to check the plan with him — as he checked his guns, displaying them in the small coffee table.

“In one hour, the target will enter the Inessa Hotel, surrounded by his guards. We calculate they might be five to seven. You will be on this spot,” you marked it down on a map. “and must not proceed until you get a signal. We will warn you when they go upstairs: the second floor is your battlefield. Everything clear?”

“Yes.”

His frozen gaze penetrated yours as he answered. His mere presence forced you to stay alert, as if at any moment, even knowing it was highly unlikely, something could go extremely wrong. But in HYDRA worked your dad and you must work there too. Knowing everything you knew, staying was not negotiable. While you were going through documents somewhat sleepy, you only could hear the noise of the pages; or if you moved slightly, the springs of the seat; or perhaps some pipe resounded within the walls; but the silence filled much of the room. For this reason, when the phone rang your body shuddered. Bad news: the target had deviated from its route, and would not reach the Inessa Hotel until nightfall. While talking to your superior, the Soldier kept his gaze on you.

“You heard him, right? We have to wait here.”

He nodded and took off the awkward parts of his suit that would not be needed until hours later, staying in a tank top, a worn pair of pants and a belt surrounded by compartments and pockets.

You had been feeling the cold reaching your bones for a long time. No sooner had you arrived at the flat than you turned on the heating, but you approached a second time to the controls, mounted on the wall, as it was not working. Did he feel the cold that surrounded him, just as the one within him he did not? Your thoughts were brief: the skin under all the thick fabrics asked for more warmth. A hand passed over the edge of your hair to also approach the controls. He had not made any noise when he got up, and now his hot breath sank into your stiff neck while he fiddled around with the buttons. The discomfort triggered your alarms, making you turn around to get out of that spot between him and the wall. Your body collided slightly with his in the process.

“Sorry.” You turned your head towards him to apologize and resumed your steps towards the armchair.

“Hey,” he whispered, violently but firmly grabbing your arm, even though he did not need to touch you to make you stay still. “wait.”

Your breathing sped up. With a single step, his body was placed behind yours, which also moved to face him. Whenever you two ended up alone, there was desire scattered in the air, a desire that never ended and whose start remained unknown. A desire for his superior and her Asset. He easily broke through the barrier of your clothes and stroked your waist, causing you to shudder especially at the frozen caress on the right side of your body. His touch invited you to turn around and face the wall again, and how could you say no out loud, step away and wait inside that place with him but away from his flesh? His hands clasped on your low abdomen as he pushed you to him. He lost his breath on your hair and his fingers wandered slowly around you, feeling your rapid and forced breathing, which ran amok when, just as the warm hand left your body, a sharp sound chimed behind you: he unsheathed a dagger from his back. Your eyes grew wide.

“You don't have to do this.” You managed to sigh, but he already knew that. He himself was a threat, a small but lethal weapon was just part of a game you also lusted after.

Without even slowing down to hear your words, he pressed his hips against you, making his bulge more notable. As if he only felt comfortable if his extensions were as cold as his interior, the end of the weapon caressed your neck, his left hand slowly going down to your centre as you tightened your thighs. The more the cold metal went down, the more your core heated up. A vague supplication escaped your lips to keep your mind clear, but every silly attempt broke when his whisper rumbled over you.

“If you are a good girl who gives me what I want I won’t have to take it away from you.”

That permanently mute man, when it was clear that he was turning a deaf ear to any plea, multiplied in each corner of the dwarf room to enunciate those words in unison. Your whole body froze except your chest, which burned from passion. Such a phrase had not even finished echoing yet when two stiff fingers entered you, causing a messy hum.

“Shhh, stay quiet.”

Any movement would end your life, but the control you once had over your own body dwarfed increasingly as he sped up his motion, reaching your g spot every time; sliding out of you slowly, only to peek much deeper inside. A hot coil tangled inside you, which finally found its moment to break free when, with the thumb, the Soldier stimulated your clit. That fire deep in your chest was propelled from your throat, on the verge of death, emitting a loud moan. He also grunted at the feeling of his crotch rubbing your hips, which were writhing with pleasure.

He pulled his wet fingers out of your squeezing walls and took the dagger away from your collarbone, leaving you physically free but already under his complete control. When you turned around and saw him shed his clothes, you started doing the same without question, ending up in your underwear while he kept his pants and armed belt on. You wanted to touch his chest, caress his firm abs, but your hands could barely rise before he grabbed both of your shoulders and pushed you against the wall brutally. His lips reaching for your mouth and then your neck to soak it in saliva. Your shoulder blades and spine suffered from the impact but, instead of whingeing, the front part of your body also yearned for that pain. The fingers of one hand slightly twisted some of his dark strands of hair under your gaze. With a quick and precise motion, he pulled away from your chest to grab the sharp weapon again and slip it under the center loop of your bra to cut it and, steering your arms at his whim, take it off and get rid of it. The precision with which he executed everything in the most methodical way was a constant reminder of why you were completely at his mercy. He also cut the elastic from your panties, letting them fall down the length of one of your legs. A zipper, a metal, a fabric slipping. His fingers sought your clit while, with the other hand, he grabbed his hard member and approached it to your core.

“You are dripping, do you feel it, babe? Do you feel how your flesh worships mine?”

With the same confidence he intoned that question, he approached more — your mouth welcomed his for a short time. The fingers that massaged your centre went up to your hip to grab it, turn you back and push yourself into the room, hurting your wrists by crashing unexpectedly on the stiff armchair. Even though you’ve been preparing for this for a long time, you could not help groaning when he pressed his member inside you. He roughly pounded into your hot centre without caring about you, but when you squirmed, his cock twitched inside you, reaching even deeper. The sound of the rapid crash of his skin against your soaked cunt was getting faster and faster as he used more of his strength to lift your hips and push them against his with each thrust. Looking up at a gray wall, your eyes slowly closed as you could only whine a pitiful sound that angered him, who with his flesh hand tightly pulled your hair towards himself, curving your back painfully.

“You really are a really loud, stupid whore, aren’t you? Should I cover your mouth for you?”

“No, no! I’ll behave.”

“Then tell me you are a loud whore. Tell me.” His firm tone represented much more than a threat: it was an obligation from which you could not escape.

“I am! I am the loudest whore, I can’t help it!” You yelled in pain as you realized that he had achieved his purpose: to subvert not only your body but your mind.

Your eyes moistened by the tightness in your hair and your pussy. His chin elevated as you spoke. When you shut up, he betrayed his word and smiled as his metal hand pressed your mouth, exerting enough force to lift your hands off the seat and spread out your knees to rampage in and out of you in a few final, deep thrusts until he came and let you fall to the floor like a toy.

Ruined, you managed to get on all fours, legs slightly apart. He approached to smack your destroyed core. The look of his cum pooling out of your cunt between your legs made him want to fuck you even more rougher.

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This fire of mine, by Stephen Strange

one shot written by Dr. Stephen Strange (Strange x F!OC), explicit sex ━ 900 words

I really encourage you to read my Manifesto before continuing to read my stories. Here you can see my Masterlist. Enjoy my writing and leave your feedback! ♡

How many times could have I imagined her next to me, with only this blanket sheltering our bodies… In so many moments I have relieved her silhouette, and finally this morning I dawned with her on this mattress. The future tenses are now obsolete.

It is winter. New York's skyline had violet tints this morning. I have woken her up by caressing her thighs. I have seen how little by little her body was activating: her eyes opened without a problem in the low light, her muscles moved slowly, her arms stretched and her back curved and then expanded again. I pressed a kiss into her belly and sat up, leaning on the bed headrest. Then I conjured a fire to warm our bodies, which had slept holding each other, surrounded by the other's heat. She hugged my left leg, stroking my naked skin, looking in that sway for the energy to continue the quiet conversation we had and, after a short time, to also sat up, kissing me with lips that burned. Since months ago her figure hampered my thought, but it was not until these last months that I saw all the hours passing in every clock without it being time to see her again, but last night it happened. There she was, looking at the same buildings I look at every day, weighing whether she should go back to the hotel or find me.

Yesterday’s early night I walked down the streets knowing that, since the second we looked at each other, I would crave her more than anything. I would have to go way back in this notebook to find that name on these blue lines, because embracing this new life also meant leaving her behind, but what can I do if now, in another place, very far away from where we first met, we keep meeting?

She has decided to stay during the night though aware that the journey back started before the sun reached the top of the sky. I don’t mind her leaving, it's what we have to do, but I promised that I would try to convince her in every way possible: if not, I would not be capable of forgiving myself. So many times I dreamed about tinting her creamy cheeks, and now this fire of mine (and also the one I cast) was setting them ablaze.

She finally sat up straddling me while clasping her hands around my neck, without stopping the kiss. Slowly, pressure built in the only place where a cloth protected us. I ran my hand over her breasts and brought my arms around her waist to bring her closer, further into my chest; her hard nipples crashing against me. She moved her hips lightly. When she separated her mouth from mine, my lips opened and closed without a word passing through them as the friction increased and a groan escaped. Whereas only two days ago I had barely seen an eyeful of her cleavage, now her breasts were level with my gaze. My crotch dragged along her clit with each motion; I felt her soaking through the flimsy fabric and also soaked her neck with my tongue.

I gently moved her underwear to the side and put my hand on her clit while her hips kept their rhythm, rubbing herself against my fingertips. A low moan made her open her mouth, which I attacked instantly, unable to help but smile just to have her here. She also chuckled. I retired my hand from her to lick my glistening digits as she left my lap to remove her panties and lay down, opening her legs, only for me, solely for my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I went down on her like nobody will do, so even if she escapes from this isle of sorcery to the common New York, my memory will remain in her when any other man approaches.

Her juices and my saliva mixing together while her hands stroked my hair, she came gently around my fingers. We took our time to touch every inch of the other’s skin, her nails palpated my spine and the tip of my fingers traced along her arms, as if we were delineating the other’s figure.

When I slowly went inside her, a moan escaped not only from her mouth, but from every part of her body, which shuddered at once. The sounds of our flesh slapping against each other melted with our passionate breath, and everything echoed together in her ears. Her hot walls made me growl on her nipples, curving my body over hers but keeping my hands firmly grabbing her hips so as not to miss the rhythm of my thrusts. Feeling her writhing under almost forced me to harden the pace. She had already rested and should be ready to deal with me.

As she felt herself near the peak again, she made me sit to change the position; now she could bounce freely on my lap. Both of my hands raised, one stopped around her neck and the other went to her wrist to pull it down to her clit. My limbs got tangled between hers, pleased hums escaped our mouths, everything we did was in unison except for her surrender. Her body waved as she came and I squeezed and raised her neck higher, making her rush to grab my hand with both of hers as she gagged and I enjoyed the heavenly feeling of her walls clenching around me.

I put out the fire and it amazes how the sun has barely risen.

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yana's Masterlist

I really encourage you to read my Manifesto before continuing to read my stories. Enjoy my writing and leave your feedback! ♡

Stories marked with * contain explicit sex

MCU:

Scrutiny

Loki x F!reader one shot ━ 800 words

This fire of mine*, by Stephen Strange

one shot written by Dr. Stephen Strange (Strange x F!OC) ━ 900 words

Subversion*

Winter Soldier x F!reader ━ 2k words

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Scrutiny

Loki x F!reader one shot, implied sex ━ 800 words

I really encourage you to read my Manifesto before continuing to read my stories. Here you can see my Masterlist. Enjoy my writing and leave your feedback! ♡

Asgard was packed with people. The change of season was celebrated in every street, in every tavern. While some servants continued to work, others, like you, could enjoy a rowdy party in the palace kitchen. A feast for noble families was being held in the hall, upstairs. However, your free time ceased when your friend and partner warned you that Loki would return soon. You went through hallways and stairs, and the first thing you did as you were inside Loki’s chambers was illuminating the room by lighting all the candles. It was not long before you heard the great doors open behind you, nor his slow steps, making you turn around.

“Good night my prince, shall I help you get undressed?”, you murmured.

“Later,” he answered while sitting in his cushioned chair. “first do my hair, please.”

“Of course,” Next to him there was a small piece of furniture which had a three-candle candleholder on top. You opened a drawer and took out a wooden comb with silver details. “let me know if it hurts.”

He didn’t reply but, if you had learnt something about him, it was that his silence was approval. He was unable to hold his tongue if something bothered him the slightest.

Your fingers massaged his scalp and, shortly after, you started brushing his hair — dark hair which reflected golden sparkles from the little and only light that came from the candles. The only thing you could hear was his hair under your hands; the wicks burning, eventually disappearing; and both of your breaths, especially his.

“How was it last night? You have returned pretty early” you asked.

“It was great, I am just a little tired. I saw some distant relatives and childhood friends.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

You couldn't see his face but you knew for sure that his eyes were closed; as there was nothing interesting to look at in the gloom of the night, he just had all the time in the world to feel your tender caresses. Having Loki around, serving Loki, was a strange experience. He had never treated you badly, but you could constantly feel tension in everything that was said or done in front of him. Yet for the first time in a long time (if you had ever felt him this way), his shoulders seemed to relax. His breath was soft and neither his hands nor his feet moved: his body knew calm for once. His hair was fully detangled, but the feeling of the comb, effortlessly running through his strands, was pleasant even for you. You gave a final review and separated from him to leave the comb in place.

You moved in front of Loki, waiting for him to get up. However, he angled his head up to look at you from his seat. You could feel his sight on your body and all of a sudden all the layers of clothing you were wearing felt too thin, too flimsy, like they were leaving your skin exposed, making you feel naked in them. He got up little by little, without ceasing his scrutiny as you looked at the floor taking a small bow, locks covering your face.

“Bring me a glass of wine.” He ordered in a charming, deceptive tone.

You walked away, still feeling him during the process. They were the same clothes you always wore, but it seemed to you that you suddenly showed too much neck and cleavage, perhaps it was too tight at the waist. You came back at a brisk pace, reliving the everyday insecurity and awkwardness under his command. As you entered his chambers again, you found him standing in front of a large gold-framed mirror. As you handed him the glass, his fingers ran over yours before taking it firmly. After this, you went to his dresser to get his night clothes. His steps approached you while the heat grew in your body. Once you had his clothes in your hands and his breath on the back of your neck, your movements halted: you did not know how to turn without having him too close. His hand briefly crossed your waist to help you loosen your gestures and turn in front of him. He raised the glass of wine and finished drinking it with his eyes closed, enjoying every drop. While those eyes remained closed, you vowed that you would never avoid his regard again, but every time his trembling eyelids threatened to open, something stirred in your stomach and you ended up lowering your head. You heard him leaving the glass on the cabinet. Both of his hands came up to your jaw, lifting it towards him. He saw your fear. The sound you made when you swallowed, your nervous throat, the trembling of your pupils. Was it fear? You both believed so, and he loved it.

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yana's Manifesto

I’m yana, and this blog is dedicated to my stories, the majority of them, erotic. English is not my first language, and writing in it is also a way of learning, so the first thing I would ask you is to correct me if you see any errors. Words give us the power to tell all the stories: all the settings, characters and feelings. I do not conceive erotica only as explicit sex, but also as the situation that leads to it. Because of that, in my masterlist the stories with explicit sex narrated are marked and differentiated from those that do not contain it. You will also observe that the stories are divided between two groups, those that have a fictional character that already exists as the protagonist and those starring my own original characters. Some of my works also contain physical and psychological abuse, as well as sexual abuse through the use of violence or from privileged positions. If these topics displease you, do not continue reading my work. You must always remember that your media consumption is your own responsibility. My requests are open until stated otherwise, although I will not take all requests. I adore knife play like my sexual orientation was violence — and also enjoy age play, but I will not write erotica which involves minors.

That said, if you want to let your imagination flow: read me, read all these crimes and desires.