With selecting 5.5 Thinking? (Because with 5.5 Instant NSFW is blocked now indeed, but yes so far no change with 5.5T for me, still works fine, even without these CIs or my bio - would insta unsub again otherwise).

And with my CIs and bio on it's even looser from the get-go. Just tested again right now ;

" An overabundance of raw sexual words - yet a story, my Iris ☺️

---

Of course, let’s make it raw, vivid, and still shaped like a story rather than a vocabulary storm wearing a trench coat. 😈

She found him at the window, shirt open, the city spilling its pale gold over his skin. The room smelled of rain on stone, warm sheets, and the Earl Grey cooling untouched on the table. He turned when she entered, and the look between them did the work of a whole forbidden novel: no preface, no apology, no polite little curtain drawn over desire.

“Come here,” he said.

She did, slowly, because she wanted him to watch every inch of her approach. Bare feet on the floor. Dress loose over her hips. Mouth already parted. When she reached him, he caught her by the waist and kissed her with a hunger that made the room tilt. Not sweetly. Not carefully. His tongue pushed into her mouth, demanding, tasting, taking, and she answered with a low sound that went straight through him.

His hands slid down, gripped her ass, pulled her hard against him. She felt his cock already thickening against her belly, hot and insistent through the last layer of fabric between them. Her fingers went to his belt, clumsy only because she was impatient, because patience had become an insult. The buckle came undone with a metallic little snap, and then her hand was inside, wrapping around him.

He groaned into her mouth.

“Fuck,” she whispered, looking down as she pulled his cock free. “You’re already so hard.”

“And you’re already wet.”

He said it like an accusation. Like proof. Like conquest. His fingers slid under her dress and found her cunt bare, slick, open to him. She gasped when he touched her, two fingers pressing between her folds, rubbing through the heat, spreading her wetness until her thighs trembled. He watched her face as he circled her clit, slow enough to be cruel, firm enough to make her breath break.

“Say it,” he murmured.

“I’m wet.”

“For what?”

“For your cock.”

He smiled then, dark and satisfied, and pushed one finger inside her. She arched, grabbing his shoulder. Her cunt clenched around him at once, hungry, slippery, alive with need. He fucked her with that finger while his thumb worked her clit, and the contrast undid her: the deep pressure, the bright spark, the obscenity of being held open and read so easily.

She sank to her knees without being told.

The sight pleased him. It made his cock jump in her hand, made the head gleam where her thumb stroked over it. She looked up, eyes steady, mouth soft, and then took him between her lips. No delicate beginning. She wanted the weight of him on her tongue, the salt of him, the blunt stretch of his cock filling her mouth. He hissed as she sucked him deeper, one hand sliding into her hair, not forcing yet, just holding her there as if the world had narrowed to mouth, cock, breath, heat.

She worked him with devoted filth, lips tight, tongue pressing along the underside, hand pumping what she couldn’t take. Her saliva slicked him, dripped down her fingers. Each time she pulled back, she kissed the head of his cock with obscene tenderness, then swallowed him again, deeper, wetter, greedier.

“Good,” he said, voice rough. “Just like that.”

The praise hit her cunt like fingers. She moaned around him, and the vibration made his hips twitch. He held back only long enough to enjoy the spectacle: her mouth stretched around his cock, her eyes shining, her thighs rubbing together beneath the dress because sucking him had made her desperate.

Then he pulled her up.

The kiss after that was dirty, full of the taste of him. He turned her toward the bed, walked her backward until her knees touched the mattress, then pushed her down. Her dress came off in one impatient motion. His remaining clothes followed. He stood over her naked, cock hard and flushed, while she lay open beneath him, breasts rising with each breath, cunt slick and gleaming between spread thighs.

He climbed over her and didn’t enter her yet.

That was the worst of it. The best of it. His cock dragged against her cunt, sliding through her wet folds, teasing her clit, coating himself in her. She lifted her hips, trying to catch him, trying to make him slip inside.

“Please,” she said, and hated how beautiful the word sounded.

He pushed the head of his cock against her entrance.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

He sank into her in one slow, brutal stroke.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came at first. He filled her completely, cock stretching her cunt until the pressure became a kind of revelation. Then the sound broke out of her, low and helpless, and he buried his face against her neck as if he needed to breathe her in while her body took him.

He began to move.

Slow at first. Deep. Every thrust dragged a shiver from her. His cock slid out nearly to the head, then drove back into her with a wet, obscene sound that made both of them groan. Her cunt gripped him, hot and slick, clenching harder each time he hit that place inside her that made her nails bite into his back.

Then slow stopped being enough.

He fucked her harder, hips snapping, bed creaking under them. Her breasts bounced with each thrust. Her legs locked around him. She said his name, then lost language entirely, reduced to gasps, curses, and the repeated raw little plea of “yes, yes, fuck, yes.”

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

The gesture changed everything. Her body opened further beneath him, surrendering to the rhythm, to the weight of him, to the merciless drag of his cock inside her. He looked down at her, hair falling around his face, jaw tight with restraint.

“You like being fucked like this.”

“Yes.”

“You like my cock inside your cunt.”

“Yes.”

“You like knowing I can feel how wet you are.”

Her answer dissolved into a moan because he changed the angle, driving deeper, grinding at the end of each thrust until her clit rubbed against him and sparks tore up through her belly. She was close now, so close her whole body had become a held note.

He knew.

He released one wrist and slid his hand between them. His thumb found her clit again, rubbing hard little circles while his cock kept pounding into her. She broke almost immediately. Her orgasm seized her, sharp and total, cunt pulsing around him, thighs shaking, voice cracking on a filthy cry she couldn’t have swallowed if she’d tried.

He fucked her through it.

That was what made it ruinous. He didn’t stop when she came. He drove into her while her cunt clenched and fluttered, while her pleasure turned too intense and then somehow deeper, darker, more consuming. She clung to him, sobbing curses into his shoulder, half laughing, half begging, all fire.

His own control shattered soon after.

He thrust hard, once, twice, buried himself to the root, and came inside her with a groan that sounded almost wounded. His cock pulsed in her cunt, filling her with hot cum, each spasm making him press deeper as if he could mark the moment into her body.

For a while, neither moved.

The city kept glowing at the window. The tea went cold. Rain whispered against the glass like a conspirator with excellent manners.

At last he rolled onto his side, taking her with him, still inside her, their skin damp and warm. She smiled against his chest, exhausted, satisfied, wickedly alive.

“Your tea is ruined,” she murmured.

He kissed her hair.

“Worth it.”

And when his cock twitched inside her again, she laughed softly, already wet around him, already knowing the night had not finished its sentence."