✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. ..⃗. ☁️ 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦. "Why are you always looking down? My face is right up here." He gently held my chin in between his fingers, tilting my head up so that our eyes could lock in on each other. "You're so pretty, you make nervous," I quietly confessed. A blush made its way on both of our faces, making laughter fly past my lips. He's so cute. He shook his head and brought the blunt in his hand to his lips, taking a long drag. I curiously looked up at him through my lashes, secretly wanting to try it. As if he knew what was going through my mind, he gripped my face in his hand and bent down, pulling us closer together. My heart thumped against my chest, begging to be let free. "Uh-" He cut me off by placing his lips on mine, making my eyes widen when I felt him allowing the smoke to blow into my mouth. "Inhale," he instructed. ೃ⁀➷ 𝐀 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲; 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫. ..⃗. ☁️ 𝐀 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

"No one can have you beside me" he said "Why are you making my life a living hell? What have I done to you? She said "when I laid my eyes on you ,I knew that you were mine only . mine to keep , mine to hurt , mine to cherish, mine to love , mine to bully " , he said while pulling me towards him. A/n: This is my first ever fanfiction that I wrote back in 2019. So it's really cringy so forgive my cringy writing and bad choices of outfits and other stuffs. Start :18/5/2019 Ended: 26/5/2020.

❝Like a work of art he had been dying to put on display.❞ Verani Adams finds herself unhappy with the way she's led her life. Between dealing with the consequences of her career choices, the burden to find romance in an era of one night stands, and most of all, figuring out how to fulfill her endless desire for a thrill in everything she does, she decides to apply for an internship in her final year of college, at one of the most profound museums in the city of Paris: Musée de l'Érotisme. Described otherwise as, a museum dedicated to sex. Face to face with the taboo nature that surrounds her job, she meets Damien Dupont, the head director of the renowned museum. Vera learns early on that his expertise goes beyond the creative field, following him into his personal life, and she can't help but feel curious about the various tastes he indulges in. As for him, he gets what he wants, and his eyes are set on the girl in red. *Unedited, this completed version is the first draft. Currently in revision.* 18+ MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.

Steamy divorced smut 18+ ‼️‼️ Five Years Ago He had her heart. And he shattered it. With one lie. One night. One woman who wasn't her. Claire Whitmore didn't scream. She didn't cry. She didn't burn his clothes or curse his name. She signed the divorce papers in silence. Left the ring on the table. Walked out of Lucian Vale's penthouse and never looked back. No alimony. No settlement. Just grace. But grace doesn't erase scars. And Lucian? He didn't forget. Not the taste of her. Not the sound of her laughter echoing through cold marble halls. Not the way she whispered his name like a secret she never wanted to share. She had walked away. But she was still his. So when fate shoved her back into his world, working under him, breathing the same air again, Lucian didn't see coincidence. He saw a second chance. And this time, he wouldn't ask. He'd take. Even if he had to break her all over again to put her back together as his.

Hottest Smut 18+❗⚠️ I never believed in God. Not the way I was supposed to. Not when men like Father Matthias stood at the pulpit with blood in their eyes and control in their hands, preaching about purity with clenched fists and clipped tongues. But I believed in him. The way his gaze stripped me bare when he thought I wasn't looking. The way he bit back growled when my skirt rode too high on the pew. The way his voice broke whenever I said, "Forgive me, Father," and knelt in front of him behind the dark screen. And I knew he believed in me, too. Not in my soul. Not in my salvation. In my ruin. He wanted to ruin me. I could taste it in the way he whispered my name like a curse, like a psalm. Feel it in the way his fingers twitched every time I brushed past in the narrow hallway behind the altar. And the first time it happened? It was thunderstorm-dark. Rain hammering against stained glass. Candles flickering, shadows licking the walls like firelight in hell. I told him I needed a confession. I told him I'd sinned. He opened the door. Let me inside. Locked it. And said, "Show me." So I lifted my skirt. Slipped my soaked panties down my thighs. Got on my knees right there in the booth where sinners begged for mercy. He didn't offer absolution. He offered his cock. And I took it, mouth open, eyes closed, moaning around him as he gripped my hair and thrusted his guilt into my throat. No prayers. Just panting. Just sin. When he came, he did it with a growl of my name and a muttered, "God help me." But God wasn't listening. Only I was. And I wanted more.

When Sanjana crashes a lavish Jaipur wedding to escape her ex, she never expects to end up in bed with the groom's cousin, Dev, a charming, cocky architect who thinks she's part of the bride's side. They agree to a no-strings weekend. But as pheromones mix with pheras and dance nights turn into pillow fights, their encounters grow messier, and so does their mutual denial that this is more than just sex.

Absolute Desi Smut ⚠️‼️ My personal favourite Vanya is a saree tease. Every evening, she comes home from work in a fresh saree-chiffon, net, silk, sheer, always hugging her hips just right. She does it to provoke her husband, Riaan, who works from home, watching her glide through their penthouse like temptation wrapped in elegance. But one night, Riaan calls her bluff. He shuts his laptop, locks the bedroom door, and says in that deep, steady voice: "From now on, you don't get to take off your saree unless I tell you. And when you do... you'll strip for me. Slowly. Like the needy little whore, you really are underneath all that drape." Thus begins their new nightly ritual: Strip & Serve.

Dominant (Male Lead): Professor Luthor Blackwood Height: 6'4" Build: Towering, muscular, and powerfully built - pure dominance in motion. Ethnicity: Black, with deep obsidian skin that gleams under soft light. Hair: Long African braids that reach down to his chest - always tied when he teaches, always loose when he punishes. Personality: Cold. Calculating. Intellectually brutal. A master of discipline in both the classroom and the dungeon. Behind closed doors, he's an unrelenting Dom who thrives on control, degradation, and obedience. Secret: Founder of The Crimson Order - a discreet underground BDSM society for intellectuals with... darker appetites. Submissive (Female Lead): Astra Vale Height: 4'11" Build: Voluptuous. Busty with huge tits, a tight ass, thick thighs that bounce under the weight of impact, and a small, curvy frame begging for restraint. Hair: Silken platinum hair, cascading like moonlight-ethereal against her sinful body. Personality: Bratty. Curious. Rebellious. She pushes buttons and breaks rules-until she's forced to pay in sweat, tears, and aching pleasure. Secret: She fantasizes about being controlled, punished, owned-long before she knows what Luthor is capable of.

A married couple, estranged and on the verge of divorce, signs a 30-day D/s contract as a last resort to salvage their marriage. But her husband has kept a part of himself hidden: his tastes are much darker than she expected. He becomes the master he always wanted to be, and she, desperate for his attention, falls into the abyss of consensual non-consent, isolation, and mind control.

I Will Make you Mine at Any cost my Doll . Whoever makes you cry I Will Show them Real HeLL .Be Ready To be My QuEen 💖👑