#7 days of kink

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ on this unholy wednesday we explore the unsafe and the insane, but we stay in the realm of consensual — for now ∼

∼ day three brings us our beloved headmistress ♥ Larissa Weems ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #foot fetish #face-fucking #stiletto heels #high heels #heel blow job #toe sucking #degradation #degradation kink #verbal humiliation #humiliation #toxic relationship #unhealthy relationships #dom/sub #masturbation #orgasm denial #orgasm delay #mistress/slave undertones #mean!larissa weems #dom!larissa weems #kink!week

pathetic (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

“Pathetic.” Larissa’s voice is tainted with disgust. She smushes your cheek with the sole of her red stiletto pump. “You’re only fit to be dirt under my shoe.”

You whimper, and she presses on your face harder. “I know you get off on this, slut. I bet you’re wet right now.”

It’s true — and you’re so ashamed, but you don’t want her to stop. You press your thighs together, wanting to give yourself some sort of relief, and she immediately notices. In a swift move, she removes her foot from your face and kicks your legs apart, then jams the pointy toe of her pump against your pussy — hard. You wince in pain and take in a sharp breath, but you don’t cry out — she forbade you to speak beforehand.

“You disgust me,” she spits out. Her nose scrunches as she says it, and you hate yourself because you can’t stop thinking about how attractive she looks when her face is twisted with disgust for you. 

She moves her foot away from your crotch and walks away, heels clicking on the wooden floor of her office — and then the sound stops. You can’t see where exactly she is because you’re lying on the floor, facing the ceiling. 

“Crawl.”

You immediately get on all fours. Your pussy aches where she hit you, your knees burn as they press against the hard floor, and you can feel how wet you are as you crawl. You think how pathetic you must look — crawling on all fours in her office, clad only in your now completely soaked underwear. You know she’ll make you stay in those for the rest of the day.

She’s leaning against her desk, her legs crossed at the ankles, staring down at you like a queen looking down upon a worthless servant. You take her in, your mouth watering as your gaze wanders from her beautiful face to her elegant neck, then to her small breasts and the soft curve of her belly, to her wide hips and her thick thighs pulling the dress taut. 

“Who gave you permission to gawk? Eyes at my feet.”

You immediately obey. Her feet and calves look delectable in red pumps that match her lips and nails. You fix your gaze onto them as you crawl to her, stopping at her feet.

“Lie down on your back. You can look at me now.” 

You do as you’re told. “That’s it. Roll over like a fucking dog.”

She pokes your cheek with her stiletto heel, softly at first, then pressing harder — so hard it hurts. “I could just do this all day and you’d be grateful for the attention. Such a needy, worthless whore.”

She brings the heel of her shoe to your lips. “Suck.” 

You start sucking on the thin heel as she pushes it in and out of your mouth.

“You love having your mouth fucked, don’t you, slut?” she says, her voice growing husky with lust. You suck on the heel harder, taking it deeper into your mouth — as much of it as you can. She lets out a quiet gasp, as if she can feel it. “That’s it, take all of it.”  

She fucks your mouth slowly and deeply, pushing the heel in so far that you gag, and then pulling out almost all the way. You lick and suck on it fervently. Your back hurts from lying on the hardwood floor, but you pay it no mind — all your attention is solely focused on the goddess above you.

You watch her, mesmerised, as she abuses your mouth. She looks beautiful, her chest slightly heaving, her cherry red lips parted, her eyes dark with desire. You never break eye contact — not even as tears blur your vision when you gag on her heel. You just can’t get enough of her blue eyes and the lust reflected in them. 

She starts going faster, breathing hard as she pushes the heel in and out, her movements growing more urgent by the second until suddenly she pulls the heel fully out of your mouth with a wet pop. With her other foot, she quickly kicks the shoe off. It tumbles to the ground next to your head. You notice her toenails are also painted the same red as her pumps. 

She forces all of her toes inside of your mouth and continues to fuck your mouth with her bare foot, making you drool and whimper. You lick and suck on her toes, trying to take in as much of her as you can, and she moans and grips the table harder. 

“Suck on each toe,” she breathes out. 

You take her big toe in your mouth first, sucking on it hard, and she draws in a sharp breath. You take your time worshipping each toe and soon she starts letting out soft moans, and then she’s lifting up her skirt and slipping her hand between her legs. She starts rubbing her clit as you continue to reverently suck on her toes.

“Tongue out,” she commands, then pulls her toes out and pushes the sole of her foot over your open mouth, rubbing it on your tongue. “Fuck yes,” she says through gritted teeth, moving her foot faster and faster, rubbing her sole back and forth over your tongue, smushing your face and hitting your nose with her toes. 

Her movements are growing more and more frantic — she frenetically slides her foot over your face and feverishly rubs her clit. The air is filled with your soft whimpers, her moans, and the slick sound of her wetness.

“Suck,” she then says and pushes her toes back in your mouth, her voice breathy with lust. “I wanna fuck your face when I come.”

You lick and suck on her toes as she starts rubbing her clit even faster. “You love it when I fuck your face with my foot, hm? Suck, don’t stop,” she pants out. “Pathetic slut, only good for having your face fucked — ah! — fucking dirt under my feet — mmm, fuck—” she cries out, pushing herself over the edge, pressing her thighs together as her belly muscles contract and her brows furrow, her mouth opening in a silent cry. 

You continue sucking and licking until she pulls her toes out of your mouth. She gently rubs her pussy through the aftershocks, watching you with hooded eyes, as she smears your own saliva all over your face with her foot. When she comes down from her high, she removes her foot from your face and pulls her discarded heel closer with her toes, before sliding her foot inside of it again. 

You lie on the floor, waiting for further instruction. Your back aches, your pussy throbs, and your panties are absolutely soaked. You can still feel the salty aftertaste of her foot in your mouth — you adore it.

You’ve been so good. You hope she will reward you with an orgasm — at least let you get yourself off. However, she pays no attention to you as she pulls her dress back down over her thighs, smoothing it, nor as she grabs the disinfectant from her desk and rubs it over her hands. She leaves you lying on the floor as she circles her desk, heels clicking. You can hear her sitting down in her chair. 

“Mistress?” you ask. 

“Did I say you could speak?”

“But—”

Her phone rings.

“Hello, Principal Weems speaking,” she answers, voice perfectly level and professional, as if she didn’t just come all over her fingers with her foot in your mouth. 

You lie on the floor, listening to her talk on the phone. It’s taking forever, and you’re in pain, and still so incredibly aroused and frustrated. However, you don’t move — you wait for her to tell you what to do.

After a torturously long time, she gets up from her desk, walks around it, and then stands above you, phone in her hand. You hear someone talk on the other end of the line, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. You catch her gaze and give her a pleading look, but she only gestures with her perfectly manicured arm, for you to get lost. 

“But—” you start, but she gives you a look that makes you immediately get up from the floor and scurry towards the pile of your discarded clothes. You dress, stealing glances at her, but she pays no mind to you. She’s still talking on the phone, saying the occasional “yes” and “of course” while absentmindedly nodding. 

Once fully dressed, you walk to her desk, your panties uncomfortably wet and sticky with every step you make. You stand next to her chair, trying to get her attention. She ignores you for a bit,  and then finally deigns to eye you up and down, a disinterested look in her eyes. 

“Yes,” she says to the person on the other end of the line as she grabs a piece of paper and a pen from her desk. “We can discuss that at the parents’ conference next Thursday.”

She scribbles down on the paper. When she’s done, she pushes it towards you. She waits a couple of seconds for you to read it.

Tomorrow, 7pm sharp. Don’t touch yourself until then. Stay in these knickers until the end of the day. If you disobey, I’ll know.

She then turns towards the window in her office chair, not sparing you another glance, taking the paper and crushing it in her fist. You know she will burn it later — destroy the evidence of your shameful rendezvous. 

You leave her office with a knot in your stomach. It’s nothing new — you feel terrible every time. Your relationship is sick and twisted and toxic, and you know you should end it. You could end it if you wanted to. She wouldn’t want the scandal of it all. She’d leave you alone if you threatened to report her.

If only you didn’t crave it so much.

You know one day you’ll grow tired of it — however, that day is not today, and it isn’t tomorrow either, for you show up at her office at 7pm sharp, like she told you.

“Pathetic,” she spits while you massage her feet, and then repeats it later after she lets you get off by humping her shoe. 

You agree with her.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

♥ big thanks to @opheliauniverse for beta reading ♥

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!) : @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld @sicklygrlsicklygrl @wh0re4women @rippersz @bbykens

#kink!week #7 days of kink #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems smut #larissa weems x y/n #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it #gwendoline christie

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

Daniel Brühl Smoking Hot, a collection:

Me, a non-smoker for life: dying from secondhand smoke watching these DB characters puff a cigarette up close wouldn't be the worst thing in the world...

Marek, Honolulu (2001)

Daniel, No Regrets / Nichts Bereuen (2001)

Paul Krantz, Love in Thoughts (2004)

Jan, The Edukators (2004)

Salvador Puig Antich, Salvador (2006)

Klaus Prompst, In Tranzit (2008)

Dr. Georg Rosen, John Rabe (2009)

Álex Garel, Eva (2011)

Iván Pelayo, Winning Streak / The Pelayos (2012)

Thomas Lang, The Face of an Angel (2014)

Sebastian Zöllner, Me and Kaminski (2015)

Inspector Escherich, Alone in Berlin (2016)

Lutz Heck, The Zookeeper's Wife (2017)

Wilfried Böse, Entebbe (2018)

#daniel brühl #smoking #smoking kink #Sebastian Zöllner #Me and Kaminski #Thomas Lang #The Face of an Angel #Klaus Prompst #In Tranzit #Paul Krantz #Love in Thoughts #Marek #Honolulu #Dr. Georg Rosen #John Rabe #The Edukators #No Regrets #Iván Pelayo #The Pelayos #Inspector Escherich #Alone in Berlin #The Zookeeper's Wife #Lutz Heck #Wilfried Böse #7 Days in Entebbe #Salvador Puig Antich #Álex Garel #my gifs #gifset

[naminethewriter]

On the Road, Just the Two of Us

Chapter Seven: Outside a Bar, Just the Two of Us

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next | Ao3

Summary: This was written for @dukeceit-week-2024, @dukeceitweek

Janus and Remus are living in a campervan at the moment. Are they going somewhere? Who knows. The only thing that’s important is that they’re together.

Content Warnings: Innuendo, Heavy Flirting, Kink mention, Drunkenness, Alcohol consumption off screen

🌻🌻🌻🌻

Janus gulped down the fresh air as he stepped out of the warm and loud bar. Remus had begged him to stay in this town for the rest of the day when he’d seen it and the poster advertising a gig of a local punk band playing there that evening. He hadn’t minded staying, it seemed like a fun evening, and it was! But it was getting close to midnight and Janus needed a break from the used-up air and bass vibrations that he still felt rattling around his brain.

Or maybe that was the alcohol.

He hadn’t drunk all that much – he never did. He enjoyed the buzz but not more than that.

Remus on the other hand had taken a few more shots. But he also had a higher tolerance than Janus, so he wasn’t worried. His boyfriend was currently having fun on the dance floor and while Janus hadn’t felt comfortable there, he would never take Remus’ enjoyment away from him.

He’d made sure Remus had seen him head outside. He wouldn’t make him worry.

Janus took another few, deep breaths. He looked up, admiring the starry sky for a moment. It was a smaller town, so he could see a lot more of the stars than he could at home.

It made him not want to go back.

But there were responsibilities. And this trip was already three months long.

…Maybe he should check his e-mails. He hadn’t this entire time, knew it would make him anxious about how much work he’d return to. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Janus pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the icon of his e-mail program, but before he could tap it, the bar door swung open and Remus came stumbling out.

“Where’s my snake boy??” he slurred, looking around. Janus had enough time to put his phone away before he was spotted and as soon as Remus did, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Janny! Love of my life! There you are!” He giggled, clumsily making it over to Janus and pulling him close. “I missed you. So much.”

“I was gone for not even five minutes, dear. How much more did you have to drink?” Janus chuckled, gently rubbing Remus’ cheek with his thumb. He was running rather hot but considering the temperature inside, the fact that he had been dancing and a good amount of alcohol, it wasn’t concerning.

Remus leaned into his touch and sighed.

“The band like, paid for like three rounds for everyone. I probably shouldn’t’ve taken all three shots directly after the other, but c’mon! It was fun!”

“I’m sure it was, darling. Don’t you dare throw up on my shoes, though.”

“I would never. I love your boots, they’re so sexy and way too good to be ruined by puke. If it happens anyway, I will clean them for you though. With my tongue. Or I can clean them now, I would love to worship your boots for you, Janny.”

Janus listened to Remus’ drunken rambling while gently guiding him away from the bar and towards where they parked the van. He definitely had enough for the night and while it wasn’t uncommon for Remus to declare his various kinks so openly, the fact that he was swaying on his feet and slurring slightly was enough indication that it was time to call it a night for him, too.

“I know you would, darling, and we can experiment with that when we’re back home and I have cleaned these properly. You’re not touching them with your tongue after I’ve worn them outside. Especially not before the wedding.”

Remus whined and Janus sympathetically patted his cheek.

“I know, I’m so mean to you.”

“You’re not,” Remus insisted immediately, pushing himself away a bit and trying to stay more steadily on his own so that he could look Janus in the eyes. “You’re the one person that isn’t mean to me. At least not in any way I don’t like. You’re the best and I love you. Want me to prove it to you? I can kill a guy for you!”

“I know you can, darling, and I love you, too, but what I want from you right now is to get back to the car and cuddle me until the sun comes up again.”

“I’d love to.”

“Good.”

#namiswriting #On the Road Just the Two of Us #Chapter 7: Outside a Bar Just the Two of Us #dukeceitweek2024 #Day 7: Dive Bar #dukeceit #ts janus #janus sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #human au #fluff #innuendo #heavy flirting #kink mention #drunkenness #alcohol consumption off screen #multichapter fic #sanders sides #fanfiction #reblogs are appreciated

[shuyamino]

WHATS NTR ???

pairing(s) : ✒ ،، vox akuma x reader x mysta rias

content : ✒ ،، NSFW | NTR / cuckholding | reader uses he/him pronouns but afab | use of the word cunt | vox fucks u in front of ur boyfie (mysta) | nicknames used: 'good boy' & 'little one', | praise kink | size difference, sorta, vox is a big boy

notes : ✒ ،، yall remember when mysta said he was into ntr…crazy times. i had to rewind to make sure i heard him right the first time LMAO

minors + ageless blogs dni (u will b blocked) ;; fem-aligned people can interact, just pls dont be weird about it ;; read through content before reading more!

“How does it feel, little one?” Vox asks; the teasing tone is just short of condescending as he pounds into you.

Two thick fingers are pressed against your tongue; both digits are wet with your spit.

The two of you are on your bed – yours and Mysta’s – bed. Your knees digging into the comforter, head held up by Vox’s hand. He wanted you to keep your eyes on Mysta sitting at the edge of the bed while you were mercilessly fucked by his friend. The thought of it makes your heart sting with shame, but, god, does it turn you on.

“You just tightened around me.” He chuckles. 

“C’mon, use your voice.” Vox pulls his fingers away from your tongue, letting you speak freely. Both hands are wrapped around your waist, tugging you back with every thrust. He’s so big. So much bigger than you’re used to. His cock is almost intrusive in the way it drags against your walls. You can feel him stretching you with every thrust. 

You can feel Vox begin to slow. A whine slips past your throat as he slows to a grind. Pleasure thrummed through your body – just not enough to reach the edge. You shift your hips to try and chase the high, but he easily holds you in place.

“Be a good boy and tell Mysta how I feel inside you.”

“Please–” You finally say, more of a babble than anything else. Shame burns your cheeks as you’re forced to look at your boyfriend. His blue eyes watching the two of you intently, hands clenched tight on his sides. His gaze burns your skin as it trails over your spit-soaked lips down to the rest of your body. All the while, his dick strains against his slacks, just as desperate as you. “Want more. ‘S so good – god. Wanna…wanna cum on your dick.”

Vox hums, seeming satisfied with your response. “Good boy.”

He picks back up – the same ruthless pace from earlier. Vox’s hips slam against your ass with a bruising grip around your waist. Something in the way he fucks you makes you feel absolutely gooey inside. Like your mind is melting from the inside out, your mouth is open with high-pitched moans and drool.

Vox was fucking you mindless in front of Mysta, and you were all getting off on it.

“‘S so good. So, so, good…” The words escape your lips before you can help it, slurred together as Vox fucks you dumb.

Your eyes lock with Mysta, who’s shifting in his seat now. He still hasn’t moved from his spot, jaw slack, transfixed by the scene before him. 

Tension builds up in your core as your moans grow higher in pitch.

“Are you about to cum, little one?” Vox asks as he pistons into you. It’s unfair just how unaffected Vox sounded even as you tighten around him. The muscle in your thighs aches as you struggle to stay up. Before your hands give out from under you, Vox anchors you upwards. His hand wrapped around the column of your throat – not choking, but with a firm grip as he pulled you back against his chest. “Why don’t you tell Mysta who’s about to make you cum?”

“Vox…Vox is–” You choke out, willing to do just about anything to cum. Vox hums, his fingers tightening slightly around your throat as he does so.

“Tell me – can Mysta make you feel this good?”

Your hips buck as pleasure numbs your whole body in return. You shake your head before you can help it, eyes rolling back as he snapped his hips forward. “Answer me.”

“N-No!” You finally answer. “Only you – please, let me cum, please, please–”

“Should we let him cum, Mysta? Has he been a good boy?”

An audible gulp from Mysta before he licks his lips. “Y-Yeah. Let him. Wanna see it. Wanna see you two…”

That was enough to push you over the edge as you cum around Vox’s cock.

Vox groans as he cums in you. Thick and hot – filling up every inch of your cunt. You keen at the sensation, hands clenched tight as he finishes fucking his load into you. His face is pressed against the crook of your neck, lips whispering soft praises at how well you’d done for him. Vox keeps you upright as you come down from your high, body still trembling from how hard you came.

Your eyes slipped close, and you were about to fall asleep had Vox not clicked his tongue. You open your eyes, vision still dazed. Your eyes land on Mysta – hands still clenched to his sides with his cheeks bright red, absolutely disheveled. 

“Aw, look at ‘im.” Vox coos with the same saccharine, condescending tone as he used with you. A dark chuckle rumbles through his throat, pleasantly vibrating against your back. “Did you cum without touching yourself, Mysta?”

#vox akuma smut #mysta rias smut #vox akuma x male!reader #mysta rias x reader #vox akuma x reader #mysta rias x male!reader #THIS HAS BEEN IN MY MIND FOR A WHILE OKAY ITS KIND OF BAD BUT IVE NEVER WRITTEN SMUT AND ALSO I NEEDED IT OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!!!! #100% self indulgent #i would love it if i stopped hearing abt their kinks bc it consumes me for like 4-7 business days #/j. but like. yk. huwehfuwef #casper★writes

[mikelogan]

i have literally nothing to say for myself. just casually* dropping an absolutely debauched mike x reader fic and then going to go scream into a pillow.

*there is absolutely nothing casual about this

#ramblings #myfic #mike logan #mike logan x reader #hand kink go brrrr #usermarina #marina you fucking asked for this #no one talk to me for 7-10 business days im going to go stick my head underwater or walk into traffic #if anyone wants to be tagged in any potential future endeavors of this nature just lmk #or block me lmao

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

...the dawn of ♥ kink!week ♥ is upon us...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ those faint of heart, look away and shield thine eyes — miserable sinners, prepare; for we have entered the unholy week ∼

∼ day one brings us our beloved metallic lady ♥ Jane Murdstone ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #alternate universe - modern setting #dominatrix #bdsm #bladder control #watersports #piss kink #mistress/slave #dom/sub play #fetish clothing #leather gloves #face slapping #degradation kink #humiliation #golden shower #masturbation #aftercare #kink!week

don't look away (as i bare my soul to you) (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

You will always remember the night you met her.

You were attending a house party organised by one of your good friends — very much a social butterfly, unlike yourself — and you weren't surprised there were all sorts of interesting people there, and that one of them just happened to be the tallest, most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. 

You could tell she was exceptionally bored as she sat on the couch alone, long legs crossed, typing on her phone and absentmindedly sipping her wine. You probably stared at her for a full minute, just awkwardly hanging by the door with your own drink, taken by her commanding presence and how stunning she looked just in her casual black slacks and blouse that was unbuttoned just enough that you could almost see her bra if you angled your head the right way. 

You surely would have stared much longer had she not lifted her gaze and raised her eyebrow at you. You immediately felt your cheeks burn and your palms sweat, embarrassment overwhelming you, as if you’ve been caught doing something terribly wrong. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something, but you didn’t know what could be said after so rudely staring at someone, so you turned to leave.

What stopped you from fleeing in shame, with your tail between your legs, was that she smirked and gestured you to join her, tapping a spot next to her on the couch. You immediately obeyed. No other option even crossed your mind — something about this woman drew you in.

“Jane Murdstone,” she said with a delicious, velvety English accent, extending her arm towards you as you sat next to her. You noticed how piercingly blue her eyes are.

“My palms are sweaty,” you said stupidly, looking at her with your mouth slightly agape, feeling as if you were in the presence of a goddess.

“Then wipe them on your trousers,” she said calmly, cocking her head. The corner of her lips barely perceptibly curled upwards.

You wiped your palms on your trousers and went on to shake her hand. You immediately noticed how big it is compared to yours, and you didn’t know why it flustered you so much. She gave you a firm squeeze and lingered a second longer than necessary. 

“Will I get a name, or just reports on the state of your palms?” she asked.

You stuttered while telling her your name, but she didn’t comment on it.

“Do I have something on my face?” she just asked, leaning back into the couch and swinging her arm over the headrest. 

“Why?” you asked back, confused.

“You stared at me for a full minute,” she answered, smirking, and took a sip of her wine. She never once broke eye contact with you — it made you squirmy, but you couldn’t look away, as if under a spell. You felt as if she was looking at your very soul — bare and unprotected and vulnerable.

“I—I’m sorry, I just thought… I just thought you were beautiful,” you managed to utter.

“Did you, now?” she asked, looking very amused .

You nodded.

“Well, thank you. But don’t you know it’s quite rude to stare?”

That finally made you avert your gaze in shame. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, don’t worry — I like making people flustered. I’m having a lot of fun right now.”

You looked up at her again. She was staring at you with that piercing gaze that made you feel completely naked, her blue eyes twinkling in amusement. “And what do you do for fun?” she asked.

Oh, you were completely enraptured by her.

You spent the entire evening talking about everything and nothing. You were surprised how comfortable you felt with her, despite her commanding presence — or maybe because of it. She never paid any attention to you stuttering, nor your blushing — she just sat there and waited until she got an answer to a question she asked. It made it hard to avoid talking about yourself — and oh, it felt so good to talk about yourself for once. 

At one point you asked her what she did for work — and then choked on your drink when you heard the answer. It surprised you, even though her commanding presence could have been an inkling — but she just looked so normal, with her dark brown hair in a loose bun, her tasteful and minimal makeup, and her slacks, blouse and pumps that made her look like a businesswoman on her evening off.

“A dominatrix? That’s really cool,” you said, blushing, “I just didn’t expect it. Don’t get me wrong, but you just look very normal.”

She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her wine. “Oh, and what did you expect? Latex? Or leather?”

You felt very silly because that is exactly what you expected. “Sorry, I just… I just never met a dominatrix before.”

“So, not familiar with that world, I presume?”

“Not really. But, I mean… I’m… interested. I mean, not interested interested, don’t get me wrong. I just, you know, had like, thoughts, and I’d never actually do it, but I think about, I mean not think about, just like… I wonder sometimes, you know, like what it’d be like, like, none of the hardcore stuff, but just, you know—”

She interrupted your pathetic rambling. “Would you want to try it?”

You froze. “What?”

“Would you want to try it?” she repeated. Her expression was completely calm and neutral, as if she just asked you about your favourite colour. 

“I—I—I mean, that would make no sense. I was always… I’m boring. I just go to my job and then I go home. It couldn’t be into something like that, like, it’d be so out of character and it… it just makes no sense that I would, you know, be like…. into it,” you fumbled.

“I didn’t ask you if it would make sense. I asked if you’d like to try it.”

You spent the next couple of seconds just staring at her, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. She just sat there in silence, calmly sipping her wine, waiting for you to answer.

And finally, you did.

“Yes.”

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

You glance at the clock. 

It’s 12pm — another five hours until the end of your work day, and you already can’t focus on anything else besides the pain in your bladder. 

You press your thighs together — you can do this. 

You take in a deep breath before turning your attention to the pile of paperwork laying on your desk — mocking you and waiting for you to go through it. And you will — you must. It has to be done by the end of the day. You won’t let yourself get fired — you’ll push through.

You wouldn’t want to disappoint your Mistress, after all.

Jane has been your Mistress for about six months now, and slowly you are starting to venture into kinks you never thought you’d admit being interested in — to anyone — ever. You were fully prepared to take those with you to the grave.

Truth be told, you once thought the same about trying out a BDSM lifestyle, and then… well. Then you sort of stumbled into it — and now it’s something you do on a Monday afternoon after working hours.

Or, in this case, during working hours.

Your belly tingles with excitement just thinking about it — no one knows you’re engaging in a sexual fantasy of yours right now.

You clench your thighs together again — both to help with the fact that you really need to pee right now and to give provide some friction. You know, however, that you absolutely cannot touch yourself, nor go to the bathroom — not until 6pm today, when your scheduled session takes place.

You smile and start sorting through the paperwork in front of you. You’re giddy with anticipation.

6pm can’t come soon enough.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

You can barely stand when you get to her apartment and ring the doorbell. Your bladder hurts — you don’t think you can hold it in much longer.

She opens the door in a black, silken night-robe. Her long hair is loose and fluffy around her shoulders, she isn’t wearing any makeup, and she’s barefoot. She seems to be naked underneath the robe. It’s unusual — she normally puts on something more fitting for her role. however, you still think she looks gorgeous — perhaps even more so than usual.

She eyes you up and down. “Come in,” she says, face impassive, then turns around and walks towards the playroom. “Coat, bag, shoes,” she commands, not bothering to turn around or look at you as she disappears into the room on the right. 

You quickly hang your coat and bag and take your shoes off before you follow her, pressing your thighs together and clenching your pelvic muscles as hard as you can.

She waits for you in the playroom, sitting on the big couch next to the window. She gestures for you to stand in the middle of the room.

“Stand here and don’t move. You’ll watch me get dressed. When I’m done, you can go to the bathroom.”

As much as the thought excites you, you don’t think you can last even another ten minutes.

“But, Mistress, I… I don’t think I can hold it in much longer. It’s been an entire day.”

“Well,” she says, tilting her head. She watches you squirm from the couch, lips curling in amusement. “If you can’t make it, you’ll just have to go right here.”

“R-right here?” you repeat. You can feel your cheeks starting to burn. “But… I can’t.”

“Well, if you can’t then you won’t,” she simply says and gets up from the couch. She walks towards the little vanity in the corner of the room and stars sorting through her makeup. “And if you can, you are welcome to. However — you don’t get to use the bathroom until I’m done.” She sits down on the little chair and starts applying moisturiser on her face. 

“But—but—” you start, but she interrupts you. 

“You will not give me attitude, or there will be consequences,” she says, looking at you through the mirror. The tone of her voice sends a shiver down your spine — cold, uncompromising, and so fucking hot. 

“Yes, Mistress,” you say and your voice sounds squeakier than you intended. 

“Poor little thing — always so flustered around me,” she coos while dabbing concealer under her eyes, saccharine condescension oozing from her voice. “You just need to be stepped on, don’t you? You need someone to tell you what to do and when to do it — even your bodily functions. Can’t even do that yourself.”

“No, Mistress,” you say, shuffling on your feet, pressing your thighs together. Your bladder really hurts. 

“Stop squirming,” she says, dusting eyeshadow on her lids and glancing at you in the mirror. “You have one very simple task and it is to stand still. Or are you too incompetent even for that?”

“It really hurts, Mistress. May I sit down?” you ask.

“No.”

You try your best not to squirm. You press your thighs together as tightly as you can, trying to take deep breaths to soothe yourself and breathe through the pain. You somehow manage to zone out — you watch her do her makeup, as if in a trance, and you’re proud of yourself for doing rather well. You make it through powder, mascara, blush, eyeliner and lipstick, and before you know it, she’s done. She fluffs out her hair and checks her makeup in the mirror, and then she gets up and turns to look at you.

“You’re doing well,” she says. “A bit too well. Is this too easy, hm?” she asks, approaching you.

“No, Mistress.”

She stands in front of you — and fuck, she’s so tall. It makes you feel all fuzzy and tingly inside. 

“Oh, I disagree,” she says. She throws the robe off of herself, revealing that she is, indeed, naked underneath. You mouth waters. “You’ll help me get into my corset.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She turns and walks towards the couch. Her ass and thighs jiggle as she walks. You lick your lips, and your belly tingles — you hope she lets you touch her today. You’d love to worship her.

Laying on the couch, you only now realise, is the outfit she picked for herself for today — a black corset, a leather harness, black stockings, and — your favourite — black leather gloves. Black heels are on the floor next to it. You see no panties of any kind, which is a bit unusual, but not unwelcome. 

She takes the gloves first. She makes eye contact with you as she slowly puts them on, taking her time, wiggling her fingers and clenching her fist after she slides each of them on — and it’s so hot you almost forget abut the burning pain in your bladder. Your mouth gapes open and your heart beats faster.

“Close your mouth,” she says sternly before she moves on to the stockings, and you immediately obey.

She puts one long leg on the couch and slides the stocking on — painfully slowly — then does the same with the other one. You lick your lips and squirm again. “Don’t. Squirm,” she commands.

“Sorry, Mistress.”

She slides her feet into black heels, then grabs the corset before she slowly walks to you, swaying her hips. Her breasts bounce as she moves and you can’t help but stare. She’s even taller now with the heels on, and it makes you giddy. You feel so tiny next to her.

As soon as she reaches you, she slaps you across the face — hard. You gasp.

“You can’t even follow simple directions — stand still and keep your mouth closed. How many times to I need to say it, hm?” she says and grabs your jaw with her gloved hand. She presses her fingers into your cheeks so hard it hurts. “Answer me.”

“I—I’m sorry, Mistress, it won’t happen again,” you utter, eyes wide, chest slightly heaving. You have to crane your neck so far back to meet her gaze — you love it.

She lets go of your jaw, and then immediately slaps you again, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“How is your bladder?” she asks as she wraps the corset she’s holding around her torso. It’s already buckled in the front, but the laces on the back are loose. 

“It hurts, Mistress.”

“Poor thing,” she says, her face stony, as she pokes your belly with her finger. You tense your muscles and clench your thighs together. 

“Please, Mistress — it hurts,” you say. You’re doing so well — but if she does that again, you know you won’t be able to hold it in.

“Does it now?” she asks condescendingly. 

“Yes, Mistress.”

She simply chuckles. 

“Tie this. Make it tight.”

She turns around, holding the corset pressed to her stomach, and you immediately start working on the laces. The pain in your bladder is becoming worse by the minute, especially after her poking it. You can barely concentrate on your task, but somehow you manage to push through. 

She turns back around to face you. “Only the harness left. Do you think you can make it?” 

She reaches inside the corset to adjust her breasts. Your gaze wanders towards them. You bite your lip as you watch her gloved hand fondle her breast, cupping it and pushing upwards. “Eyes up.”

You look up. The intensity with which she looks at you makes you shiver — it always does. With her, you always feel like you’ve nowhere to hide. It’s like she can see inside your soul, like she truly sees you — pathetic and shivering and naked — and she never averts her eyes. 

“I can make it, Mistress.”

“Are you quite sure?” she asks, and her blue eyes twinkle, but her face is otherwise unreadable. 

“I think so, Mistress.” 

It hurts — badly — but you don’t want to give up now that you’re so close to making it.

“Wait here,” she says and walks out of the room. You watch her ass wiggle and her hips sway as she leaves.

The moment she exits the room, you squirm and press your thighs together as hard as you can. You don’t know how to feel — on one hand, it would be really hot if she made you pee your pants, and on the other, you don’t think you could handle the shame you’d feel. You like humiliation — but this? You’ve never done something like this before. You decide you’ll try your best to hold it in until she lets you go to the bathroom.

She returns quickly, carrying a big water bottle. She hands it to you. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

“Drink,” she says. “All of it.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

You start drinking, and she watches. It’s a big bottle, and you aren’t sure you can drink it all. You can feel your belly filling with water, and the pressure in your bladder is unbearable. You try to lower the bottle, pace yourself, but she tilts it and pushes it into your mouth. 

“I said, all of it.”

She reaches under your shirt and grabs your hips. You’re still drinking. She gentle runs her gloved hands over your stomach — lightly, teasingly — then under your bra. You continue drinking until you finish the bottle as she fondles you, sending tingles down your spine.

“All done?” she asks, running her fingers over your ribs. 

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Give it to me.”

She takes the bottle and puts it on the little table next to the couch, then returns to you.

“You must be so uncomfortable,” she says, sliding her hands under your shirt again, putting one on the small of your back and the other on your bloated belly.

“Yes, Mistress.” You’re sure you can’t make it at this point. “How long… until I can go to the bathroom, Mistress?” you ask.

She gently massages your belly and you whimper. “Oh, but you could go right now, and it would all stop.”

“But I can’t, I’m too embarrassed.”

“And what if I commanded you to go, hm? You wouldn’t disobey me, would you?” she asks, circling around you as she caresses your stomach, until she’s behind you and pressing her body into yours. She leans down and you feel her hot breath on your ear. You whimper.

“I can’t, Mistress, please, I—”

She grabs your neck from behind you, her gloved hand pressing against your windpipe. “Do not give me attitude.”

Suddenly, she grabs your hips and presses her fingers into your pelvis. You gasp and your muscles give in — and the next thing you know warm liquid is trickling down your thigh. Horrified, you watch a dark, wet spot form on your trousers.

Jane lets go of your waist and walks to stand in front of you as you continue to stare at your crotch, deep shame colouring your cheeks red. You can’t help but gasp in relief as the painful pressure bladder finally subsides, which makes you even more embarrassed. You hide your face into your hands and press your thighs together. It just keeps going — you have’t peed all day. You feel it trickle down your calves and onto your feet until it pools on the floor. Tears of shame prickle in your eyes. 

“Look at me,” Jane says. You slowly lower your hands and clutch your shirt, breathing deeply and trying not to cry. You look at her. She’s standing a few feet away from you, watching you, her gaze as intense as ever. “Don’t avert your eyes.”

You watch her, tears streaming down your face, your underwear, your trousers and your socks uncomfortably wet, as she walks towards the couch and takes the harness. She puts it on, but it takes a while. You just stand there — embarrassed, blushing, crying and wet. 

You aren’t wet just from your own piss, however.

Something about the humiliation makes you incredibly aroused, and Jane knows it — oh, she knows it well. She knew it from the first night you talked — you didn’t even have to tell her — and she pushes you, always pushes you just a bit further than the last time.

She walks back towards you, now clad in the elaborate harness that hugs her neck, her waist, her arms and her thighs, black leather belts crisscrossing. She looks like your dirtiest fantasy.

“Kneel,” she says. 

You kneel into the puddle of your own piss, wetting your trousers even further. 

You look up at her. As she isn’t wearing any underwear, your gaze wanders to her pussy — it looks pink and delicious and absolutely delectable. You wonder if she’s command you to eat her out, and you shiver in anticipation, heat pooling in your belly. 

She lifts her leg and puts her heeled foot onto your shoulder. “Since you’re already so filthy,” she says, “it’ll make no difference if you’re even filthier.”

You stare at her pink, slick folds and your mouth waters. “Tilt your head back. Look me in the eyes,” she says. You do as you’re told and you meet her gaze. She watches you, her lips parted and her eyes dark with lust. 

You gasp when warm liquid hits your chest. You feel her piss slowly wet your shirt and your bra and drip down your stomach into your underwear. She keeps eye contact the entire time. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she says. “Filthy girl.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whimper, cheeks red, chest heaving. 

“Nasty, dirty girl,” she says, her voice deep and thick with lust. “I bet your pussy is all wet, hm?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you breathe out. She looks like a goddess, looking down upon you. Your mind feels fuzzy and you feel as light as a feather. You’d do anything she asked of you right now. You just want to serve her.

She removes her foot from your shoulder, and you barely notice that the heel dug into your flesh — you only feel a sort of a euphoria. 

“Stay on the floor and touch yourself. You can come.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you say and immediately slip your hand into your soaked underwear. 

“Sit down, ass on the floor.”

You do as she tells you and sit down in the puddle of piss. Your trousers immediately soak through on your ass, but you don’t care.

She looks down on you as you start rubbing your clit. “Look at you. Nasty girl. You like sitting in your own filth, hm?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you moan, rubbing your clit faster.

“No wonder you need me to guide you. You can’t do anything yourself except rub your pussy like a bitch in heat.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whine. You’re already getting close. “Ah, Mistress, you’re so good to me.”

“I’m too good to you. Nasty girls such as yourself only deserve a firm hand.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. You slip your fingers inside of your dripping cunt and start pumping your them in and out — but your trousers are in the way, and you quickly unzip them and pull them down your thighs along with your underwear, and you’re now sitting bare in a pool of piss. You spread your legs as far as you can as you continue to fuck yourself, hitting your clit with your palm every time you pump your fingers into your aching pussy.

“Look at you — so desperate. I don’t even have to touch you for you to fall apart. Such a dirty fucking slut.”

“Ah — yes, yes, Mistress,” you whine. You’re so close.

“Look me in the eyes when you come. I want you to know who you belong to — every orgasm you have is mine, do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Mistress, ah—” you breathe out as your eyes meet her icy blue ones. 

“Come for me,” she says, her voice cold and stern and uncompromising as she watches you, her gaze baring your soul. You are unable to hide from her — she is witnessing you at your lowest, in a puddle of piss rutting against your hand like an animal, and yet she never averts her gaze. She disarms you, renders you unable to do anything other than obey. You belong to her.

And you love it.

You keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you, fast and hard and intense. For you, for you, it’s for you, you think as ecstasy overwhelms you and the only thing you’re aware of are her blue eyes, watching you, judging you and absolving you at the same time. You keep fucking yourself through the aftershocks, mumbling, “I’m yours, Mistress, it’s for you,” as you slowly come down from your high, unsure if anything you say is intelligible. 

She is silent — she waits for you to come to your senses.

A wave of shame hits you as soon as the orgasmic euphoria is gone. Tears pool in your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You want to hide your face in your hands or your shirt, but you’re covered in piss and it disgusts you. “I’m disgusting,” you cry, tears blurring your vision. You can’t look her in the eye.

“You aren’t,” she says as she takes off her gloves, and you want to believe her, but you can’t. 

You cry and you cry, and she helps you clean up. You shower together, and she wordlessly holds you while you cry, and then helps you put on clean spare clothes that you keep at her place for occasions such as this one. You cry some more, and she caresses your hair and lets you cling to her.

She isn’t a very gentle woman — you learned that quickly — but there is something about her presence that comforts you. You feel safe around her. She says few words, but they are picked carefully — and she won’t argue with the mean voices in your head. She says what she means exactly once.

“I’m glad you trusted me with this,” she says as she bids you goodbye at the door. You say nothing — you just hug her. She tenses up, not expecting it, but then she relaxes and hugs you tighter. She smells like citrus shower gel, and you know you do too. You look forward to lying in your bed tonight smelling like her. 

“See you next week, Jane,” you murmur into her chest. She pulls back and kisses your forehead — a rare show of affection.

“Take care,” she says. 

As you walk back home, you feel pleasantly light.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @opheliauniverse @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @zephyr-is-tired @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @softshrimpy @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld

#kink!week #7 days of kink #jane murdstone #jane murdstone x reader #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it #gwendoline christie

[rodolfoparras]

do not give me a piss kink.

The piss kink wave begins once again 😈

#when I had like half the followers I had now I wrote a piss fic in a tag like I just added my own thoughts on a piss kink blurb #and I think 7? of those days I was actively discussing piss kink and the phases of getting into it #alec answers

[whump-and-suffering]

...Huh. Don't think I've ever sneezed 50 times in a day before.

I'm normally not a sneezy person at all, I've just got such a sneezy cold...

#self obs #obviously not all completely natural #I was feeling an intense need to sneeze throughout the day so I had to induce a bit #but normally when I have a cold despite needing to sneeze all day I'll only sneeze naturally a couple of times #and maybe manage to induce...5? 10 at most and with some difficulty? #today I had 7 completely natural sneezes #then there were several occasions where I lightly brushed a tissue against my nose and immediately sneezed like 5 times in a row #and the rest were mostly pretty quick to induce because even after all that the need to sneeze was still pretty strong #and it's not actually 24 hours since I started counting yet! #as I started counting when I got up in the morning and it's not even midnight yet #snzblr #sneeze kink

[day0walker]

actually i think we should all discuss how much könig is probably so into kissing. like i bet that man is constantly thinking about kissing. i just know in my heart instead of daydreaming about sex, hes just a guy whose like “i would love a kiss right now”

#text #a guy who wears a mask almost 24/7 #who finally finds someone to love him #and he's not gonna wanna kiss every moment of every day he can???? #if a kiss kink exists König #has it

[sluttysaph]

wait wait wait, what about insomniac dom and always sleepy sub!!

#im sleepy literally 24/7 #could sleep 12 hours a day #and have a somno kink #this is so perfect

[rainbowhouseplant]

listen i know without context the internet warriors are gonna be mad at me but shut the fuck up this is funny me: hey i wanna take this med but very low okay? doctor: okay! heres ur dose!! me: follows directions, gets very hostile in like two weeks internet: yeah so that's a high dose??? me: well oki doki imma do 1/4 of what doctor lady said wouldnt ya know i do not want to rip peoples throats out with my teeth for so much as breathing near me

#it's like when i have to tell them to give me the 7 day zpack #“oh should we try--” no. no you should not. i live in this body i know it better than you. #also did u know a 5 year long throat infection can be remedied by a 7day zpack???? #fucking love antibiotics man theyre great (remember to like. take a fucking probiotic after tho #or dont. if stomachaches are your kink )

[libidinous-weeb]

MDNI, 18+ content!! just more smut writing tips. of course.

hey, it kinda seems like…everyone overuse. the adjective “pretty” in fics?

there are other adjectives to use that are more descriptive and less vague. it will go a long way towards making your fic seem more realistic and create a clearer image of things in your readers’ minds. over using an adjective takes away from its descriptive impact and makes the word itself seem boring and dull. “pretty” is also a vague description.

try adding to it by describing WHAT about that specific thing is pretty. or you can try replacing it with something more specific. “your eyes get all teary when i fuck you. they always look so fucking pretty” OR something like “she stops and gets closer, now outright staring. your pussy feels hot and it seems to get even wetter under her gaze. you feel like your clit is begging for her attention, for her touch. you want her to fuck you with her fingers so she can feel how your pussy squeezes and contracts around them when you cum.”

i’ve also noticed that everyone is kind of…using the same writing style as each other in smut fics. or they write the dialogue for all of their fics the exact same way, even if the character is different. changing things up, ESPECIALLY from character to character is important. if their personalities are different and they are different characters they probably don’t talk the same, even in a smut scene.

i know it’s tempting to copy everything from your favorite writers in YOUR writing, but doing so makes your fics repetitive and cookie cutter. taking inspiration from how and what they write is great, but please don’t copy their exact style, especially when it comes to descriptions (and even more specifically descriptions of body parts) or dialogue between characters.

#i read a fic the other day that literally used ‘pretty’ like 20-30 times #and it was a drabble #changing up the adjectives you use in your writing keeps it from feeling repetitive #i’ve sort of noticed this trend on here where everyone just copies each other’s writing styles all the time #please! develop your own writing style! i wanna read YOUR writing! #there’s nothing wrong with learning from other writers or incorporating some of their techniques in your own writing #but please do not copy their entire writing style!!! #writing tips #thesaurus.com is a great way to look for different adjectives that have the same meaning as the word you want to use #but describing the same thing in the exact same way every time makes your writing seem stale! #don’t be afraid to change things up #no hate intended! just kind of a personal pet peeve! #honest to god it’s becoming a pet peeve of mine tbh #i go to read 3 different from 3 separate writers and somehow they’re all the exact same? #the way the reader whines and acts like a spoiled 7 year old before any sex even happens?? #the way everyone uses ‘pretty clit’ or ‘pretty pussy’ or make the character say ‘you’re so pretty’ it just #idk what’s pretty about it? okay so u think i’m pretty. and? what else u think about me? #if it’s a praise kink fic the praise has to be specific and detailed or else it doesn’t feel like real praise #it feels like something someone says to any girl no matter who it is and why #what’s special and pretty about me?? #mdni #nsft #minors do not interact #jjk smut #bnha smut #mha smut #smut

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brighter in their last hurrah...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!) ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩��˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ we end the unholy week with the lord of all things unholy — the devil themselves. this journey has led us to the fires of hell, and today we explore the most terrible sin of all… do you want to know what it is? tread carefully, curious reader ∼

∼ day seven brings us our beloved ruler of hell, the devil with the face of an angel ♥ Lucifer Morningstar ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #lesbian sex #cunnilingus #vaginal fingering #breaking the fourth wall #author is purposefully choosing not to tag this fic #secret revelation #shameful confession #kink!week

the secret (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Lucifer throws their head back in pleasure as Mazikeen bites down on their nipple. They tangle their fingers into her hair, revelling in the feeling of her strong hands on their waist, her mouth on their breast.

“My darling Mazikeen — my beautiful consort,” they murmur, eyes closed. “You serve me so well.”

She kisses her way down their sternum, towards their stomach. They let out a contented hum and guide her further down, lightly pulling on her hair. They gasp when she gives their hot, aching pussy a long lick.

She looks up at them with her big brown eyes. “I love to serve you, my Lord.”

Lucifer gently runs their fingers through her hair. “I know, my darling. And you look lovely doing it.”

She licks another long stripe from their entrance to their clit and Lucifer shivers.

“Ah, but there is something that would be even better — oh, I ache just thinking about it.”

Mazikeen gives their clit a little kitten lick and Lucifer lets out a shaky breath. The corner of their mouth curls into a small smile as they gaze upon their lover’s beautiful, half-rotten face. 

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Ah... I fear I’m too shy to say it.”

“You can tell me anything, my Lord.”

Mazikeen sucks on their clit and Lucifer moans. “Mmm, that feels good. Do it again.”

Mazikeen sucks on their clit again and Lucifer rolls their hips into her face. She digs her fingers into their hips, bringing them closer to her hungry mouth as she starts to devour them, licking and sucking and making them tremble — but then, Lucifer gently tugs on her hair, pulling her away, and she stops. 

“Whatever it is,” she says, slightly breathless, looking at them with those brown eyes Lucifer so adores, “you know there’s nothing you could ask of me that I wouldn’t do.”

Lucifer smiles — and it’s a devilish, wicked thing that makes Mazikeen shiver. “Ah, that’s a dangerous thing to say, my darling.”

They reach down to caress the rotten side of her cheek, and she leans into their hand. They run their thumb over her lips. “And yet I say it, my Lord,” she says, taking their thumb into her mouth and gently sucking. Lucifer watches her, lust and affection dancing in their eyes. 

“You would do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” they ask, and they know the answer.

She releases their thumb from her mouth with a pop. “You know I would, my Lord.”

They smile. “I do.”

She plants a soft kiss on their thigh. “Perhaps you could tell me while I pleasure you, my Lord?”

“Perhaps,” Lucifer says. 

Mazikeen licks their clit again, never breaking eye contact. Lucifer pulls her closer, and pushes their hips into her mouth. She licks them slowly and reverently. Lucifer’s moans are sparse and soft and first, but then they become more frequent and breathier. 

“It feels so good, my darling,” they breathe out. She pushes her tongue inside of them and they gasp. “But there is one thing that would really push me over the edge.”

Mazikeen pulls her tongue out of them and kisses their aching pussy. “Name it, my Lord, and it shall be yours.”

“Oh, Mazikeen, it’s really bad,” they say, their voice a sinful song — and soft like honey. “I can’t ask something so filthy of you.”

Mazikeen’s cheeks flush with desire. She pushes a finger inside of them, slowly — it slips in easily. “How filthy, my Lord?” she asks breathily and curls her finger. Lucifer clenches around it, drawing in a soft breath. 

“So very filthy. So dirty and sinful, you can’t imagine.” Their voice is deep and dark with lust.

Mazikeen starts pumping her finger in and out and Lucifer starts rolling their hips into her hand. “Please, tell me, my Lord. I want to serve you.”

Lucifer moans. “Mmmm. Oh, Mazikeen, but I can’t. You see, we have a curious audience today.”

They put their hand on Mazikeen’s wrist and Mazikeen stops. “What do you mean, my Lord?”

Lucifer looks you directly in the eyes. Your breath catches in your throat.

“This lowly creature wants to know what turns the Devil on. What is so filthy that it makes me wet — so dirty and delicious that it makes me moan in ecstasy?”

Mazikeen glances towards you, but you can tell she can’t see you. 

“Describe to them how wet I am, Mazikeen.”

Mazikeen pulls her finger out of them and brings it to her mouth. It’s glistening and slick, dripping wet down to her knuckle. She puts it in her mouth and sucks, then pulls it out with a wet pop.

“You’ve never been this wet before, my Lord,” she says, and her voice is husky with want. 

“And do you know why that is so, darling?” Lucifer asks her. “Because I keep thinking about that filthy thing I want you to do to me.”

Mazikeen’s breath hitches. “Please — please, tell me, my Lord,” she begs.

Lucifer looks towards you. They give you a devilish grin. 

Mazikeen furrows her brow in confusion. “Is someone there, my Lord?”

They smirk. “Yes, there is, darling. Do you think I should tell them, too?”

“If you so wish, my Lord.”

Lucifer rises up on their elbows, pulls Mazikeen towards them by the neck and kisses her. Mazikeen closes her eyes and softly hums into the kiss.

Lucifer never breaks eye contact with you.

“Come closer,” Lucifer murmurs into Mazikeen’s lips, curling their finger as they keep looking at you. They kiss Mazikeen again, and then again. 

“Who are you talking to, my Lord?” Mazikeen asks in between soft kisses.

“A curious voyeur,” they chuckle. “Come closer — closer,” they command and kiss Mazikeen again. 

You come as close as you can, sitting on the edge of bed.

“Do you want to know what never fails to make me hot and wet? What is so sinful that even my cheeks blush in shame when I think of it? What could send me over the edge right now, without you even touching me?” they whisper into Mazikeen’s lips. 

You shiver in anticipation, leaning in as close as you can.

“What, my Lord?” Mazikeen asks. 

Lucifer grabs her hair and pulls her closer before whispering in her ear. 

Mazikeen gasps.

…

You don’t hear what they said.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Jokes aside, I actually brainstormed about kinks for this fic before I decided to be a meanie. If you want to see a bit of the behind the scenes process, some kinks I seriously considered for Lucifer and early drafts, click here!

taglist: @opheliauniverse @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgayy @gwenslucifer @weemswife @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld @sicklygrlsicklygrl @wh0re4women @rippersz

#kink!week #7 days of kink #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x mazikeen #lucifer morningstar x reader #gwendoline christie #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it

[miraculouslumination]

"But but but I didn't consent to seeing kink at pride by going to it!" blah blah blah

Buddy I once had a customer come through wearing a big ol' bulky pink leather dog collar around their neck along with a whole outfit that was sending Vibes and I managed to not fucking piss myself or combust into holy shrieking flames or start crying and screaming and throwing up, and when I told them to have a good day they just said, very exhaustedly, "Oh I'm trying" before leaving

"Kink is fine as long as you don't force anyone to be part of your scene"

You really think my autistic ass is ever going to know the difference between people being, y'know, people having fun vs people forcing me to be part of their kink scene?? I can't even tell when someone is politely telling me to fuck off and is genuinely being Nice - ain't no way I'm spending mental energy and spoons to determine this shit unless it's actively endangering me

#Jean mumbles #Blah blah blah blah #Some of y'all need to get a fucking job and realize #That you are going to see some wild shit #And that people come in all sorts of shades and shapes and shit #Kink is all around you I hate to break it to you #I get through my 7+ hour shifts by thinking some incredibly choice thoughts about my OCs #I have handed people change and told them to have a good day while thinking about my OCs destroying each other in bed #This is mostly so that I don't think about how much my feet are hurting or how hungry I am #But it's still just like....whatever dude #Y'all need to calm down #Maybe get a few fantasies of your own and you'll calm down

[nuagederose]

kinktober 2022 // day seven: mise en abyme  prompt: sex toys (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing(s): alex/lily + mark/lily if you squint (eerie inhabitants) also on ao3 ��

*the fanfic equivalent of realizing and accepting that your mind is broken

I took a walk through a rain-drenched neighborhood. It had been a long while since I had gone out for a walk but I was willing to do it through the rain. I hung out with vampires for a long time, and thus I was more than able to stand it unlike the rest of the people there in the Bay Area.

However, it was so unlike California with all of this rain, with all of the puddles strewn out before me and the small rivers which formed in the storm drain by my feet. I reached the next street corner and I spotted the café up ahead. All of this rain had soaked my jeans at the very bottom as well as my shoes. I kept my purse and the journal inside tucked under the safety of my arm. Though I had my umbrella with me over my head, I needed to stop before the rain drenched me any further.

Things were so different now with all of the boys having done their thing and having moved onto greener pastures. At least Abby and I had finally moved out of the Iverson estate and into a better place near the shoreline. If I was going to have her live with me until we were both in our forties, then I was more than willing to let it happen.

Out of all of them, the one I least expected to leave the Bay Area and leave all of us behind in the dust was Alex, especially when he and I swore that we would be there in California forever. He told me that he had to get out of there and onto the opposite side of the country because it wasn’t safe for him as a vampire, and he told me not to worry about him. But before I could even so much as make a decision for myself, he was already gone.

Here I was, nearing thirty, and my vampire boyfriend, the only man for me, had bailed on California for the East Coast, and I never got closure. I could never not worry about him because he was undead and never went for very long without filling up his belly with all the fresh blood.

He was the love of my life. I would always love him and I would always miss the bizarre comfort of his body, and I would always yearn for him. But it ached so bad and so hard that he had just picked up and left without even so much giving me and Abby a moment’s notice.

I reached the café and I ducked in through the door, and I closed my umbrella before I went inside all of the way. I then took the table on the far side of the room, right by the back door so no one would have to see me. I leaned my umbrella up against the side of the chair and I set my purse on the table before me.

Before I went up to the counter for a cup of chai latte for myself, I noticed the slender journal inside of my purse. I had had it in there for so long that I completely forgot what I had written in there.

I took it out of there and I opened it up to the first couple of pages.

It came back to me right then and there.

I never really liked the idea of holding a sex journal because I had too much to say about it, but I recalled that I had journaled a day like this before, about a month ago. It was odd because I had no memory of writing it down after it had happened. But once I grazed over the written words there, I started to gather that memory, a particular rainy day such as this at the moment.

I missed Alex especially when I read the first few words. It was right after he had left for New York and I wanted him back in my arms again.

I was about a block up the street and I stumbled upon this adult store on the side of the street: I was drawn to the sign in the front window, especially since it was the middle of the day. It seemed so strange to go into a place like that at such an odd hour, but I peered over my shoulder as I reached the front door and I stepped inside of there once I realized that no one watched me.

It was this cozy little shop that smelled of fresh incense and as if they had cleaned in there before I walked inside. The first thing I spotted before me once I was in there was a game of naked Twister on the rack: next to that was a series of fuzzy dice and dice with some statements on each side. I swallowed as I glanced about the room, at the dolls, at the lingerie, at the toys, all of it.

I felt like such a late bloomer at the sight of it all before me.

I had had sex with a vampire, but that was as far as it went, though.

The girl in there, who looked to be my age, walked on over to me dressed in a little lace chemise and fitted skinny jeans that slid down her hips a bit to expose her belly button and her hip bones, flashed me a smile as she strode up to the rack with the dice.

“Hi, how’re you?” she asked me in a warm voice that felt like fresh wild honey.

“I’m good, I’m just—a little curious,” I confessed to her with a break in my voice, and I could feel my face growing warm from the fact that I stood in there. I gripped onto the strap of my purse and I knitted my knees together.

“You came to the right place,” she told me, and she set her hands upon the edge of the counter before her. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Well... I’m trying to win my boyfriend back,” I sputtered out. It was sort of the truth: I did want Alex back, but I wanted some closure if that was it for us, though.

“Oh! Looking to spice things up?” Her face lit up at the mere sound of that.   The fact she was so chipper and upfront startled me so much that I lost track of what I wanted to tell her. There was a part of me that wanted to tell her that I wanted something to make the act not feel so cold, but then I would have to explain the concept of the vampires to her. In a way, I was willing to spice things up between me and Alex. I wanted him to feel warmer against my body, to feel his warmth even if it had no chance of returning any time soon. To feel his warmth pressed up against my body for all eternity.

“Um, yes?” I replied as I fanned myself and undid my collar on my jacket to show off a bit more of my neck. “I don’t really know where to start, though.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” she assured me with a smile, and she gestured for me to follow her around the corner. “It can be overwhelming at first but that’s why I'm here, though.”

I let out a low whistle as I opened my jacket and let my body out of there. I needed to loosen up for certain.

“What’s he like?” she asked me in a low voice.

“He’s... tall and wiry. And he’s got a big appetite.”

“A big appetite?” she echoed me and she flashed me a smirk.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Hmmm...” She rounded the end of the countertop and she showed me a sea foam green dildo about the size of a Coney Island hot dog and round on either end.

“Whoa,” I breathed out.

“It’s of considerable size, yeah.” I was amazed by the sheer smoothness of the outside surface: if I didn’t know better, I could have sworn that it was just another piece of cosmetics in someone’s bathroom.

“I chose this one for you because it doesn’t exactly resemble to a penis while still maintaining the phallic shape of it.”

I let out a low whistle and rolled up my sleeves.

“You can hold it if you’d like,” she suggested to me with a raise of her eyebrows. “Get a feel for it. It has to feel right in your hands.”

I blushed as I picked it up and cradled it in my hands. The surface was so smooth and delicate, as if it was comprised of glass rather than silicone. Indeed, I felt something as I held it for myself. Something deep inside of me, as if I had chosen the right one. I curled my fingers around the side of it and she nodded her head at me with a smirk still plastered across her face.

She then held up a little black tin box: it resembled to one of those metal lunchboxes. It even had a handle on one side of it.

“What’s this?” I asked her.

“This kit comes with a blindfold, a bullet vibrator, and a ring as well as that dildo,” she told me.

“A ring?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

“A little ring for him. It can make him erect for a lot longer.” It took me a second but I realized what she meant by this, though. I nodded at her and showed her a smile at that.

“And what’s the bullet for?” I asked her.

“The bullet is for your clit,” she replied, and I was amazed by how much I didn’t know before. “Little itty-bitty vibrator for under the hood.”

I let out a low whistle and I gripped onto that dildo with both hands. I held it close to my chest and there were so many things that went through my mind, especially when I realized as to what I was doing right then. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip and eyed the dildo in my hands all the while.

“You know, if you’re a little bit uncomfortable, there are some games over here. It can add a little humor to the situation so things aren’t as intense there.”

“The dice?” I asked her.

“The dice. The game of Twister.” She nodded to the counter on the other side of the room, right by the front door. “Right over there, babe.”

I sighed through my nose. I was there. I wanted to be there. I had the dildo in my hands, pressed up to my chest, and I wanted to go further than that. I made my way over to the counter over there and I picked up a couple of the fuzzy dice: the fabric was soft and silken against the palms of my hands. I dropped my gaze to the dice with the writing on the sides. The mere sight of them made me blush even more.

“I like these,” I told her. “I hope he will, too. And I'll take the kit over there, too.”

“Good choice,” she told me with a wink.

I wanted to feel sexy for him, to seduce him back to me. I was willing to do whatever it took as well, even with my own hang-ups and my own reluctance and the incessant blush in my face. I didn’t want to laugh especially when I already felt so warm from the humiliation.

I made my way out of there with a little black bag tucked underneath my purse to keep it all out of sight from passersby on the street all around me. I told her that I would keep her little hub there on the street in mind the next time I was in San Jose.

The rain persisted as I took the next bus back home to the knolls outside of El Cerrito, a rather long bus ride at that, too, and our new apartment nestled back in the trees. Abby was out of there which meant I had a little bit of privacy.

I stepped into my bedroom and I took the black box out of the bag first, and I opened the lid before I set it down on the nightstand next to the bed. I left it open all so I could everything in there: that blindfold at the bottom looked to be made of black velvet and suede; the perfect fabric for his little round face. I followed it up with the dice, which I kept on the bed before me. I sighed through my nose and I hoped that these things would work for me and Alex, if and when I saw him.

“Abby?” a man’s voice carried into the room right then. I turned around and Mark appeared in the doorway right there.

“What the fuck, Mark!” I exclaimed, and I scrambled to close the box.

“Oh, deary me,” Mark declared with his hands raised up before him. He snickered at the sight of the toys and a warm little blush bloomed across his face. “I’m really sorry, Lily—shit, I thought you were Abby.”

I held the black box in between my hands with the lid closed, but I couldn’t stop the tears. I pinched my eyes shut and I bowed my head just so Mark wouldn’t have to see me.

“Hey,” he started, and he padded into the room right next to me. “Hey. What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I just—feel bad.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I feel bad that I got these,” I told him, to which he frowned and tilted his head to the side. “They’re... they’re fucking—sex toys. I hate that I got these. I want to throw them all away now.”

“Really? You feel bad because of these?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I can’t explain it, but the whole concept of—sex toys—just makes me really uncomfortable.” The phrase alone made me gag.

“Think maybe it’s the thought that you’re sticking an object you-know-where?” he asked me, and I shook my head.

“I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s just the phrase by itself that gets me.”

“Sex toys—yeah, it is kind of weird when you say it out loud,” he assured me. “It’s like two diametric opposites of one another and yet they’re brought together somehow. Toys are for kids and sex is something kids shouldn’t have.”

“I cannot believe you just said that,” I sputtered, and he chuckled at that.

“Why? I’m trying to help you out.”

I swallowed and I cowered back towards the black box on the nightstand: I could feel my face warming even more at the sight of Mark there in the doorway before me. He backed away from me to give me privacy once again, and I sighed through my nose with the hopes that I could calm down my heart. I turned to the toys once again.

It was an odd phrase to think about and say aloud now that I thought about it. These things that were for pleasure and yet they had the weirdest name once I thought about what Mark had said. I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, and I turned to the doorway again. Mark re-emerged right there before me.

“Do you mind—at all,” he began with a little wave of his hand towards me, “—and I want you to know that you have every right to slap me in the face or sock me right in the stomach for what I’m about to ask you, too. But—do you mind sharing with me what you got for you and him?”

“You promise you’re not going to laugh?” I asked him with a sniffle.

“Not at all,” he assured me, and he sank down on the edge of the bed right next to me. “I only did that because it caught me off-guard. But trust me: I don’t want to laugh at you if you’re not comfortable.”

I showed him a smile and then I opened the box to show him the toys inside. I picked up the ring first and foremost. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of that sea foam green cock ring nestled in between my fingers.

“This goes around his dick,” I said. “See? It's got a little button on one side. It's like a vibrator for boys.”

“Is that a blindfold?” he asked me with a gesture to the patch of velvet at the bottom.

“It is, yeah.”

“I’m guessing that’s a dildo,” he added with another gesture inside.

“It is—and this little thing here goes up—” I swallowed as I picked up the bullet vibrator. “Onto my clit.”

Mark raised his eyebrows at that.

“Just goes—right in,” he muttered in a low voice.

“I also got these—” I showed him the dice. He picked out the one on the left and showed a little smirk at all of the sides.

“Oh, he’s going to like these,” he assured me. “By the way, do you want me to call him and get his ass back here for you?”

“Yeah. I would rather you call him and get him out here, because there’s no way that I can with my own voice alone. It's either you or Abby.”

“I’ll do it,” he promised me with a wink, and he headed on out of there for the cordless phone. I heard him dial Alex’s new number, which was then followed by silence. He dialed another number after that.

I knew that I would have to wear something nice for him if and when he returned home to the Bay Area. I could hear Mark chatting it up with him in the next room and I could only hope for something good to come on out of it.

“Alright, I’ll tell her—” he finally said at one point. A brief silence and then he poked his head into the bedroom.

“Alex said, yes, that he’s actually coming on home for a bit right now—he has to, anyway. Something about his parents still having a few things of his that he wants with him back East.”

“So, he’s here in the Bay Area, right now?” I asked him.

“Yeah, he’s on his way, actually. And I should probably tell you that I’m thinking of moving to New York soon, myself.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “What! Why?”

“Change of pace,” he said. “If nothing else, I can invite you and Abby along with me.”

“We just moved to this place, though, Mark,” I pointed out.

“It is a pain, too,” he added with a raise of his eyebrows. He then showed me the tip of his tongue. “Do you mind—trying out these little things on me? Just as a test run?”

“I don’t think you can,” I said. “I bought these specifically for Alex and myself, Mark. If I use one of these on you, it’ll be a betrayal of his trust.”

“You don’t want me to use the dildo on you?” he asked me with a straight face.

“I hold onto it and—slip it in,” I said, and I could feel myself blushing again. “Actually, you know what? Fuck it—seeing as we’re here right now.”

Mark gasped at me as I took off my jeans and my shirt, and I leaned back onto the bed with the dildo in hand.

“What do you mean, exactly—’seeing as we’re here right now’?” His voice broke and he swallowed at that.

“I mean, I—do want you to use the dildo on me, Mark,” I told him. “You know, I—” I cleared my throat. “I kind of don’t want to be alone with these—things.” He swallowed again, and he stepped back into the room with his fingers up on the crests of his shoulders. I could see it in his eyes that he was nervous, as nervous as me.

My hands shook as I handed it over to him. How I wished I was confident with these sorts of things, even with the number of times in which Alex and I got to fuck each other.

I peeled down my underwear for him.

He raised his eyebrows at me. He held onto the dildo with one hand and my knee with his other. I really hoped that Abby wouldn’t walk in right then as he switched it on and it hummed to life.

“So, what do I do just—bring it down like this?”

The end hit me right between the legs like a vibrating drill bit, such that it hurt so bad and I lunged back away from him.

“Whoa—whoa, holy fuck—!” I breathed hard and held a hand up to my chest. Mark held it right next to his face and held still all the while. I waited a second before the pain disappeared from in between my legs.

“Too high?”

“Yes, AH!” When I even so much as moved my leg to the side to adjust myself, it sent a sharp pain up from the lips of my vulva all the way up to the base of my spine.

“Shhh—I got you. I got you…” Mark set his hand on my knee to steady me. I stayed still right there reclined back on my elbows and with my gaze fixed on him. He swallowed again and he shook his head.

“No,” he confessed.

“No? No, what?”

“I worry about hurting you again,” he confessed to me. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He handed the end which he held it towards me: indeed, he had accidentally turned it too high. I pushed the button down and that brought the vibrating down. But at that point, Mark had slid off of the edge of the bed and right next to me so he wouldn’t have to look at me right in between the legs.

“Okay,” I said as I held it down between my legs and closed my eyes. “Let’s try this again.”

A knock on the door caught our attention such that I nearly dropped the damned thing onto the bed.

“That’s probably him,” he told me.

“That was fast,” I muttered as he left the room. My pants were down on the floor, but I wanted to surprise Alex anyway, once he came into the room.

Indeed, when he sauntered in there and he saw my bare-naked legs and my crotch out in the open, he greeted me with his eyebrows raised and a smirk upon his face. He gave his black hair a little toss back before he stepped inside of the bedroom: he left the door ajar by a few inches.

“That’s dangerous,” I remarked.

“Your sister showed up around the same time I did,” he explained. “So, Mark took her out to get some pizza.”

“Oh, boy,” I said. His eyes wandered over to the dildo as well as the black box on the nightstand, and he tilted his head to the side.

“What’s all this?”

“It’s a, uh—little something refreshing,” I replied. “Two things for me, and two things for you.”

“Two things for me!” he declared. “What would that be?”

I sat up and I took out the cock ring, and I held it up for him.

“It goes over your head,” I told him. “It vibrates, too.”

“And what’s the other thing?”

I took out the blindfold.

“Well,” he stated. “Seeing as you have no pants on, Lily, and the two of them are out and about, what say we—” He fastened his belt and let his pants drop down his legs to his ankles. He then peeled off his shirt and showed me his bare body, as creamy and milky as fresh fallen snow.

“Have a little fun?” I filled in for him.

“Please. Besides, my next flight doesn’t leave until the mid-morning tomorrow.”

Alex tossed his shirt off to the side and he set his hands on his waist, right around his belly button. He was so slender and svelte there, and his skin looked so creamy and silky under the light on the ceiling over us.

“Wonder if they make vibrators for bellies that are absolutely bulging full,” he said aloud.

“Yes, it’s called ‘the hand’,” I teased him with a show of my hand, and he burst out laughing at that.

“Look at it like this: the belly rub is the precursor to a vibrator or any kind of little thing you stick somewhere. Your hand’s moving back and forth on a warm part of the body that happens to be very taboo, right over a place that’s even more taboo—in my case, not too far from where you’d give me a hand job.” It was right then I wondered if Mark ever mentioned anything to him before he walked in.

He took his seat there on the edge of the bed right next to me, and he reclined back onto his hands. He gave his long black hair another big toss back with the flick of his head and he showed me a little smile as some of those little ringlets clung onto his shoulder and his collar bone.

“So, what do we want to do first, the ring or the blindfold?” I asked him.

“The ring. I feel if we do blindfold now, we won’t be able to see the coming attractions.” He cracked me a smile again, and I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

I reached behind me and picked up that little green ring from the inside of the box. He lay down flat on his back and he nudged his underwear down over the tops of his thighs. Just by the way that he pushed down his underwear made me wonder if he had any sense of apprehension himself at all.

Indeed, he swallowed and he showed me his dick, all about the size of the palm of his hand, as it lay relaxed right in between his legs. He let his underwear go down to his knees and he spread his arms out on either side of his body so I could have a better view of him from how I hovered above his body. I glanced down at the ring as well as the shape of his hips and the slender shape of his dick.

There was a part of me that wanted to poke him and stroke him there, just to give him a little fondle of my fingertips on his skin, a sweet little hand job before we tried out this new thing, but I wanted us to do the new thing, though. I lifted him up and I slipped the ring over the head; out of the corner of my eye, I could see him curling his toes down below the edge of the bed.

“On secure,” I said. “Now, we lift off—”

I pushed the switch to the very first notch. He burst out laughing right then, much to my confusion. The next notch up and he laughed even harder.

“What are you doing? Why are you laughing?”

“It tickles!”

“Oh, it tickles?”

He rolled over onto his side with the ring still attached to the tip, and my fingers still clasped onto the sides of the ring: at least until he rolled off of the bed and onto the floor. I followed him down to the floor, where he spread his arms away from his body and his long wavy black hair tousled itself over the crown of his head. I suspended myself over his little body and my breasts hung down to his chest.

“Whoa,” he muttered.

“Hey—oh.” I locked eyes with him. “Oh, my.” I ran my hand down his bare chest to his stomach. As soft and silken as ever. “Oh, my word.”

“Soft, isn’t it?”

“As soft and pillowy as I remember.”

“Where’s the dick… where’s that goddamn plastic dick, that mini-me.” I glanced up at the dildo on the nightstand, with its silicone sides as smooth and pristine as ever, as if I hadn’t slipped it inside before then. I picked it off of the nightstand and showed it to him.

“Right here, and it’s silicone, not plastic. What do you need it for?”

“I have an idea. Let's get back onto the bed.” I climbed off of him and crawled across the sheets with my ass in the air.

“You sure this thing goes into your coochie and not the back door?” he asked me in a broken voice.

“Positive. The gal in the shop showed it to me and I felt—weirdly connected to it.”

I lay down on my side and I gazed up at him there at the foot of the bed. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and showed me the tip of his tongue again.

“So, what’re you thinking about?” I asked him.

“Okay. Show me the sun.”

“Show you the sun, what?”

“Open sesame. Sock it to me. Give me some of that juicy live human pussy.”

“Ah, ah, ah—you didn’t say the magic word.” I wagged my finger at him, to which he sighed and rolled his eyes into his head.

“Show me the sun, please.”

I let out a low whistle and I rolled over onto my back. I opened my legs for him. He ran his tongue along his lips and he brought the smooth tip of the dildo down to my lips. It felt like he had inserted his finger into there instead of a toy.

“There we go—” he said in a low groan of a voice. “Looks like it fits you well?” He slipped it in a bit further, such that it made me arch my back a bit.

“Oh, my god! Alex!” He held back.

“Too much?”

“No,” I quipped.

“What’d you say ‘oh, my god’ for, then?”

“To get you moving.”

He paused, complete with his eyes locked onto me. And then he cracked me a smile.

“Ahhh, ha! I like the way you think, Lilian.” He adjusted the button on the dildo so it started out slowly. “Okay—here it comes.”

He slipped the tip back in and the sides vibrated in between my lips. The sensation sent a shiver up my spine, such that I arched my back again. He slipped it inside a bit further and I could feel my nipples tightening up underneath my shirt.

He leaned in closer to my face with his lips parted and his tongue out like the filthy dog he was. I made out the tips of his fangs in there, as if he was ready to draw blood on my part. He instead licked his lips and lingered closer and closer to me.

“This counts as double penetration,” he told me in a low voice, right into my ear. He took the dildo out and brought his lips to my own. I could feel him there. I could feel his erection, his warm taut skin, every last part of it upon me. He set the dildo off to the side as he inched his body onto mine.

Suddenly, it made sense as to why the girl in the shop was so adept on showing me sex toys. It made the whole thing better, though it would be some time before I felt acquainted enough with the name itself.

Alex slipped his tongue right into my mouth and he pressed his hands onto either side of my head. He treated me to a soft little groan from his throat. His chest was warm and his belly was soft, and his dick was firm and full. I could feel him there, right in between my legs.

He gasped and whimpered in between kisses, and all I could do was give it to him straight up there, on my back.

“I got you, baby—” I whispered to him. Though he was firm and full, there had to be something else, though. Something that neither my hands nor my lips could do for him right then. “I got you—I got you—”

I pushed him off of me and right next to me on the bed. I reached for the box on the nightstand and I took out the ring for his head.

Grunting and breathing hard, he lay still on the mattress next to me. I held onto the ring with my thumb and my index finger, and I slipped it right onto his dick: it clung onto the back of his head so I knew that he would feel it all throughout.

He lifted his other head for a look down at me: I flicked the switch for it to vibrate on low. He gasped at the feeling.

I held him in one hand, and I adjusted the ring a bit with my other.

“Higher?” I offered him.

“Oh, yeah, definitely go higher,” he insisted.

The second notch up, and he let out a low whistle.

“Higher?”

“Please.”

The third notch up, and I could see a trace of that clear liquid at the tip there, right over my wrist.

The fourth and final notch up and he tilted his head back and let out a low moan. I ran my fingers down the taut skin of his dick and he gasped at the feeling. I leaned forward and I brought my lips to the side of his head as if I was about to kiss him there.

“And this counts as riding you twice,” I said right into his ear. I kissed the side of his neck and he closed his eyes.

I took the ring off of him and I could see he was as tight and taut as he had ever been before.

I could feel myself moist as the rains outside, and thus, I straddled over his hips and his big erection, and I took a seat.

It was a lot like inserting the dildo in, except I gyrated my hips to and fro and some juices emerged all the while. I looked right into his eyes as I rode Amazon on top of him. Suddenly, we felt closer again, and I didn’t want him to leave for New York without me.

I ground down on him hard at one point and he let out these little whimpers from the feeling. I could feel my body letting itself go, letting itself free. The richest fire of all rich fires that I had ever felt before.

One of us was going to come first, and it was going to be me just from a mere sliver of a thought about it. I raised up and let out a low animalistic groan, and I fell onto my side right next to him on the bed. He breathed hard as he shot out his load onto his thigh and his knee.

“Wow,” he breathed out. “That was—wow.”

“I cannot believe we went there,” I said, out of breath myself.

And that was when the journal entry ended. That full memory in detail out there on display for myself to see and come back to and reminisce over on how I had conquered my own hang-up with the help of not one, but two boys.

But Alex still left for New York, and as far as I knew, Mark did, too, because Abby and I hadn’t seen him since then. However, I had a clear memory of Alex telling me that he planned to always visit San Francisco given this was where he was born and raised and grew up in, and also because I was here.

There was a part of me that wanted to do it all again, especially as I dug through my purse and I spotted that little green bullet vibrator and the blindfold both at the bottom next to my wallet. I had had it in my purse all this time and yet I never told Alex or Mark about it.   Maybe it would be something else, something more to add to everything.

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #kink tumblr #kink tag #day 7 #sketches #sketchbook #pencil sketch #fanfic #fic with art #drawings #fanfic art #death angel #testament #testament band #mark osegueda #alex skolnick #oc tag #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart #eerie inhabitants #eerie inhabitants fanfic #vampires

[josiebelladonna]

paraselenae | rembrandt's lament

pairing: alex skolnick x fem!ocs (two of them! love is not enough)

genre: hardcore erotica that i'm having a hard time updating for some reason? i'm still trying to feel comfortable with my sexual thoughts, this fic is like a coping mechanism of sorts

fandoms: testament

*18+ only; minors dni*

Warnings: clubbing, aquaphilia/water kink

*Please note that you are responsible for your own media consumption. I came here to write and relax, not police you.*

Summary: there's a swanky club down the street from his hotel and he's always been curious about things like that, perhaps more so than the actual hookers he's been acquainting with

Word Count: 5123

note: if you're curious as to why it's called "rembrandt's lament", it was merely something i came up with (i.e., i don't even know what it means). so, make of what you will with it 😉

He was never one to go to parties, especially when there was booze around. All the times when in school, and a poster for a dance or prom stayed up on the wall, came back to haunt him in the worst way possible. It also didn’t help matters that the nightclub itself was about the size of a warehouse, right at the heart of downtown and right within range of his hotel room, too. The times that he passed it on the way to rehearsals, it stood there, like a lingering demon just waiting to tempt him into his darkest desires. 

And yet, there was a part of him that remained curious about it. His rendezvous and day alone with the two girls proved that he could go as far as he absolutely wanted to, and that included a place such as that. There was something about the whole thing that remained closed-off to him, something that tempted him and therein lay an intrinsic curiosity about it. 

If only there was a way into there without any questions thrown his way. 

Though it would only be a few more days left of the tour as he bunkered himself up in his hotel room with a book to read, it was still time to consider a place like this. They were at the tour stop for those remaining few days after all: plenty of time to do whatever he damn well pleased. 

He reclined back on his hotel bed, with his bare legs crossed and his head pressed against the front of the headboard. He kept the book plunked across his lap: the sound of the TV next door as it filtered through muffled in the wall behind him served as nothing more than white noise. 

And while he was reading, a thought came to him that he simply could not ignore, especially as his book took a turn for the most endearing way possible to him. 

Those girls had to be nearby. He could feel them. He could feel their presence, especially there in that dingy hotel. 

He could still feel their bodies pressed up against him, and he could still smell their perfume and hear their voices. Like a distant memory from boyhood, but it lingered with him as if it had just happened to him. 

Every so often, he lifted his gaze from the book and peered out the window. That place stood right down the block from there, but he looked as though it was right across the street from the hotel. A feeling he simply could not ignore even if he insisted on further reading. 

What you resist, persists, after all. 

He shook his head and returned his attention to the book before him. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over again, and it wasn’t until he had read it a total of ten times when he realized that there was no way he could concentrate on it. With a sigh through his nose, he reached for the bookmark on the nightstand and tucked it in between the pages, and then he set the book down on the nightstand. 

He strode over to the window and peered out to the street before him. The noise of the TV next door persisted, as did the sound of a couple arguing about two doors down from him. 

It was only then when he heard them as well as the rest of the hotel around him. Maybe it was a good idea to put on some pants and head out on a little walk for the afternoon after all. 

There was a part of him that wanted to leave the shirt off before he headed out for a bit, but once he opened the door, it was obvious that he needed one given the sheer extent of the cool wind out there. A quick swipe of the hairbrush through his long black curls as well as the little plume of gray upon the right side of his head, and he stepped outside to the bright sunlight for a few seconds. He stood there and breathed in the fresh air: though it was the heart of the city, he could still feel it upon his face. He locked the door behind him, tucked the room key into his front pocket, and then put on his mirrored sunglasses. 

With the wind at his head and shoulders, he walked along the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. There was a part of him that wanted to go into the nearest coffee shop for a cup, but it was imperative to keep first things first in mind, however. 

Once he reached the corner, he gazed ahead to that club in question. The front windows remained as dark as night and the door stood there like a wrought iron board against the face of oblivion. His darkest secrets resided in there. 

There had to be a way inside. He knew this for certain.  There simply had to be a means of finding a spot in the line outside once the sun had set behind the city skyline. He had time, and he had the bottle of cologne to do the trick. 

If nothing else, it would give him an excuse to dress nice and wear that nice sport coat that he wore to the last time he and his parents visited a synagogue. 

When the light turned green, he crossed the street and stepped upon the curb as if it was about to pull away from him on a conveyor belt. The wind died down as he reached the outside of the club, and he peered into the window closest to him. Everything was dark but there was also the faint outlines of tables and stools about the floor before him. 

He took off his sunglasses and then cupped his hands on either side of his eyes to better block out the light. There was a dancefloor right in the middle of the whole room as well as a low platform on the far side, and he knew that it was perfect for a band. 

There had to be a way inside, and he was more than willing to find it and feel it out all for himself. Tonight, was a night off, and thus, he could map out a plan. It was something to investigate for himself, as well as give himself a change of pace and a chance to wear that nice jacket as well. He swallowed when his deep eyes fell on the stretch of sidewalk beyond the front door. 

There was the issue with that, of course. There had to be a bouncer on guard that night, and as far as he knew, that would be the cog in his machine. 

But there had to be a way. If he could find his way with two girls of the street, he had the power to decipher a way into the club there. 

He sighed through his nose and doubled back to the hotel room. 

It was the afternoon, and thus, plenty of time to eat something, and then shower and doll himself up. 

The warm water over the crown of his head and the soft soap all about his smooth skin set him in a mood of sorts. There was something about the way that the water caressed every part of his body, over his broad chest and his little belly, over the fine curvature of his shoulders and his upper arms followed by the webwork of his veins down on his forearms; all down his legs and onto his knees, his ankles, and then his feet. He tilted his head back to better feel the water on the thick of his throat as well as down his face. 

Like a merman. A merman who had come right out of the ocean to seduce a human and bring under his own tail fins. 

He ran his fingers through his dark wet curls to rid of the residual shampoo and conditioner, and then he gave himself another quick rinse before he switched off the water and dried off. 

A slash of cologne over his chest and his arms, and then he put on clean dry underwear followed by that one nice silk shirt, his black trousers, a snug black vest, and that velvet jacket, which still fit him, albeit rather snugly at that point. But he straightened out the lapels and tugged on the sides of the jacket so they hugged the shape of his body. 

The other guys weren’t really doing anything for the night except to stay in and read. The perfect moment and the perfect time to head on out. 

The night was cool and there was not a single cloud in the black sky overhead: a thick half-moon hung in the sky over the street behind him. The first quarter of a new cycle. 

He bowed his head and continued on down the block with his hair sprawled down around his shoulders and his upper back. He was definitely the outlier in that line of people, such that he scrunched his nose and took to the back of the line and waited his turn. 

He stood there with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets and his damp curls fanned out from his head: the cool breeze of the night, while it wasn’t as cold as it could be, sent a slight shiver down his spine. He hoped that the bouncers would let him in as he knew there was no way he could be able to stand out there for a great length of time and without something to drink or even so much as sit down on. 

He glanced about the line, at the women in their cocktail dresses and the men in their stylish suits, and he glanced down at himself, at his black velvet and white silk, and he could feel them watching him without any rhyme or reason or warrant whatsoever. He shivered again and thought about heading on back to his room for a change, when he recognized the voice at the other end of the street before him. 

He turned his head to the street perpendicular to the sidewalk, and he recognized that helmet of dark hair as it came towards him on the span of plush dark velvet fitted around a full hourglass shape and an accentuated chest. 

“Hey, Jay!” he declared. 

“Hey, you!” she decreed back as she put her arms around him. “What’re you doing here?” 

“I’m here to have a good time and check the place out,” he replied with a shrug. “I’ve never really been clubbing before.” 

“Oh, man, it’s fun! Good thing you picked this place, too—Q and I always like to come here when we’re ready to make a quick buck upstairs.” 

He raised his eyebrows at that. 

“Upstairs?” 

“Yeah, there’s a room with a view and a nice comfy heart-shaped bed on the second floor if you’re curious at all.” 

“Ooh, a heart-shaped bed,” he teased her, and then he dropped his gaze to her body, her wide hips and slightly protruding belly as well as her full breasts, all of it ensconced in lush, crushed black velvet that had a bit of a sparkle to it, especially around her hips and the curvature of her thighs. He looked up at her head, at her dark hair, which she had tousled all around her shoulders and her neck: she smelled of cinnamon and freshly fallen leaves; and she had painted her nails a dark espresso color. When she raised her hands up a bit, he noticed the darkness gave way to a dark orange color in a soft ombre. It was the one part of her body that had been made up: her face remained bare and bold, as she had a natural blush to her face and natural little curl to her eyelashes. If she had done an entire face full, she would have been over made. 

“God, you look ravishing,” he remarked with a gesture to her. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so! You look like an absolute shiksa goddess.” 

“A what?” 

“Shiksa. A little sign of my Jewishness for you.” 

She giggled at that. 

The line then began to move before them, and Jay walked alongside him to the door, where they were met with the bouncer and a powder blue velvet rope. 

“Members only,” he informed them. “Only she can get in.” 

“He's with me,” Jay told him with spirit. 

“Oh, okay! Have fun, kids.” He mouthed “thank you” to the bouncer as he filed in behind Jay into the club, dimly lit and smelling of incense and alcohol. He peered up to the ceiling overhead: it was nothing like how he had imagined. The floor and the ceiling consisted of heavy dark aged wood and the lights were suspended from the ceiling in wrought iron chains and open casings, as if the whole room had come right out of an old train station in the Wild West. The walls were plastered in printings of maps and old photographs. 

There was a musical trio playing at the other side of the room, a pianist, a guy with a stand-up bass, and a drummer, and all the while, some people had already taken to the dance floor. 

“This looks like a place you’d find in the really funky part of Vegas,” he told her in a loud voice over the music. 

“It really does!” Jay replied in a loud enough voice for him to hear. “Let’s go over here—” She led him to the other side of the room, right near the heavy black stone bar, the back of which was illuminated with more of those wrought iron lights from the shelves upward. All of the displays had mirrors lined at their backs to give it all some extra space in comparison to the darkness of the room. A rush of cool air swept over their shoulders: he started to hum to himself, even though he didn’t know the song playing. There was a little table right across the path to the bathrooms, one with three spindly wrought iron stools that rose up over the floor. It looked more like a coffee shop at this corner than a nightclub. 

“That’s better,” she said as she took her spot at the stool closest to the bar. He sat right next to her with his back to the wall and his hands rested upon his knees. He showed her a little lopsided smile, and then he nudged a stray lock of hair back from the side of his head. 

“So, where’s your partner in crime?” he asked her. 

“She’s on her way,” Jay replied. “She couldn’t decide which dress to wear.” 

“So, you two always come here?” he continued. 

“Yeah. Friday night, we can’t resist it, especially when business is slow. It's so weird to see you here, though.” 

“I’ve never been to a nightclub,” he confessed. 

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows at that. “You’ve never been to a club before?” 

He shook his head. “I’ve been to a few bars, but never a nightclub where the music is thumping and you have the banner of ‘members only’ hanging over your head. It's always been mysterious to me—especially little ol’ me, the humble Jewish boy from the Bay Area.” 

“We had to pretty much claw our way into it, if it brings you any comfort.” 

“Really? The amount that you girls make?” 

She nodded. “Oh, yeah. You'd never guess it, obviously. But there was a time, where she and I were starting out, and we couldn’t hold onto money if it saved us, we wouldn’t even dream of coming to a place like this on a Friday night. Hell, it wasn’t even that long ago where a place like this was out of the question for us. It wasn’t that long ago where on a Friday night, we’d be lucky to get the back alley of the bar behind the strip club where we used to work.” She then rubbed her knee: he took a glimpse down to see the thin black garter belt wrapped around her thigh. He caught a glimmer of a rhinestone right where the belt intersected, and his heart skipped a few beats. 

“What’s up?” she asked him, slightly amused. 

“I see you’re wearing garters,” he remarked. 

“Yeah, like I said, we like to come here on a Friday for a good time,” she told him, and she flashed him a wink. He snickered at that, and then something caught his eye. He turned his head, and he recognized the light-haired woman at the doorway, also in a fitted black velvet dress and with horn-rimmed glasses upon her, to which she glanced about the room for something, or someone. 

Jay raised her arm for a wave, and she turned towards them, and her face lit up when she recognized them. She hitched up the low scooped neckline of her dress and hurried over to their table. 

“There she is!” he proclaimed as Q scurried up to Jay’s other side for an embrace. 

“I see our boy showed up for the night,” she declared. 

“Indeed, he did,” Jay replied. “Would you believe he’s never come to a nightclub before?” 

“The shit you say!” Q said, and she gaped at him in shock, to which he shrugged. 

“I really haven’t,” he confessed. “I’m humble and I’m Jewish. This isn’t really in our wheelhouse—but I've always been curious, though. Among other things.” And he flashed her a wink. 

“He’s just as mischievous as ever, Jay,” she said in a singsong voice. 

“Oh, you should smell him, babe,” Jay told her. “He literally smells like he just had a little hanky-panky firmly in mind.” Q rounded the table and she took her spot on his left, and she leaned in closer to his neck for a whiff of the cologne, complete with her eyes closed. 

“Ooh, that’s hot,” she noted. She then folded her hands before her and leaned in closer to them so they could hear her. “So, did we order drinks yet, or—?” 

“I dunno, what do you feel like doing?” Jay asked her. 

The piano player up on stage traded his keyboard for a guitar, and his heart once again skipped a few beats. 

“Let’s dance, girls,” he suggested as he slid off the stool behind Jay. 

“You wanna dance, big guy?” 

He was quick to lead the two of them to the dance floor once the piano player plugged in his guitar and strummed. He immediately swept into a funky cover of “Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones; the bassist traded his stand-up bass for an actual bass guitar as well. Suddenly, they went from a sweet little jazz trio to one for rock n’ roll. 

He led them both right at the heart of the dance floor, with his hands on both of them. Q lingered back as he danced with Jay first, one hand on the small of her back and his other hand to guide them both along the spine of the floor. When he spun her around and dipped her back, her hair fanned out from her head, and he had a view of the milky skin on her neck and face, complete with her eyes closed. Though she wasn’t wearing a lick of lipstick, her lips were still cherry red, as if she was ready to give him a kiss right then and there. 

He spun her and dipped her back again, and that time, the neckline of her dress dropped down a bit so he could see more of her breasts. She showed him her tongue, and she pressed her body up against his as he swayed along with the hard drive of the drums. 

“Drummer hits hard,” he remarked. 

“So do you, big boy,” she told him, as she spun him around and dipped him back towards the floor. She held him close to her body, and she pressed a hand to his chest. 

“Ooh, this jacket is beautiful,” she noted. 

“I’ve had it forever,” he told her over the rhythms of the music. She spun him around again, and then she let him go so she could dance with Q, who had danced with another man on the floor behind them. He stood there with his hands clasped together before his chest and watched them both. He had never seen two women dance like that together before in his life, with their hair tousled and their breasts pushed up against one another, and there was something about it that tickled him so much. 

He ran his fingers through his hair as Q spun towards him, a little whirlwind with black glasses. He held onto her hand, as soft as ever, and he kept his other hand down on the small of her back; as he swayed along with her, he brought that hand down towards the top of her ass. She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue at him at that. 

“You like that, don't you?” he teased her as he spun her around: her glasses flew off her face but she caught them in her free hand. As she came back, she pressed that hand to his chest, and in one fell swoop, she tucked her glasses into the front pocket. 

“Phew, that was smooth!” he stated. 

“Now, that was a learned skill,” she assured him as he spun her around again; like with Jay, her dress slipped down her breasts a bit. He also caught a view of the garter belt around her left thigh as well. When he brought her back to his body, she showed him a playful little smile. He then felt something on the seat of his pants. 

He turned his head and Jay stood right behind them, also with a mischievous little smile on her face. 

“We’re the only ones here!” he said with a quick glance about the dance floor. Indeed, everyone was watching the three of them, and he couldn’t help but feel a little wave of warmth wash over them. 

“You’re also hard as a rock,” Q told him. 

“Huh?” 

“I feel you!” 

“Let’s go upstairs, I can’t hardly hear you girls,” he told them. He then set a hand on Jay’s shoulder, and he led the way back across the floor to the hallway on the other side of the room. 

His ears rang a bit once they were in the safety and silence of the hallway, and it was right then he knew what Q was talking about as he could feel it between his legs when he walked at a slower pace. 

“You are hard as a rock, big fella,” she told him, and her voice echoed over the heavy wooden walls of the corridor. They passed the bathrooms towards the emergency exit, and it looked as though the hall stopped, but there was another piece to it once the lights shone away from the exit. 

“It helps that we’re surrounded by wood, too,” he said, and they both laughed out loud at that. 

They rounded a right-hand corner, where they were met with a narrow staircase up to the second floor. 

“So, this is your secret spot?” he asked them. 

“One of many, actually,” Jay explained. “We have them everywhere because—you know.” 

“You never know when you’re going to need a moment alone,” he followed along. 

“Exactly!” 

Once again, he led the way, complete with one hand on the banister next to him. The stairs creaked a bit under his weight, but he was certain that everyone could hear the music more than his own footsteps. 

There were a pair of doors there at the top as well as a small window that looked out to the alleyway below. No way anyone could see in there, and thus, he saw the brilliance in that little nook of the nightclub. 

“What’s this other door here?” he asked them. 

“Broom closet,” Q replied, and she opened the door and revealed a blank space, barely big enough for a single person to hide out in at any point. 

He turned his head to the door on the right, and right as Jay nudged it open. Indeed, there was a small bedroom in there, with that heart-shaped bed as well as a little deck that was also hidden away from view down on the street. 

“Hey, a pool!” he proclaimed as he nudged off his shoes and then took off his jacket. 

Both girls burst out laughing and they peeled off their dresses in unison. Neither of them was wearing a bra, but they were wearing little black silk panties with the black garter belts and the thigh-high stockings. Jay kicked off her shoes and ran her fingers through her hair. Q was quick to take off her shoes as well as the stockings. 

Out there on the deck was a small infinity pool, just big enough for three people. He looked out to the deck and the lights from the street as it shone overhead in a fine veil of light. Hidden away from the street and yet, it carried the right amount of lighting for an intimate evening at the heart of a threesome. 

He turned and he lay his jacket at the foot of the bed. 

“Strip for us, big fella,” Jay ordered him. It was right then he realized he had the right amount of light from the street at his back and his black hair. 

Very slowly, he unbuttoned his vest. When he reached the bottom, and he let the sides hang forth to show off his white silk shirt, he ran his hands down his chest and onto his soft belly. He then held onto the sides of the vest and tugged them back, and he let it fall down his arms. 

Jay sashayed over to him, nothing more than bare breasts and black panties, and she ran her hands down his chest as well. She then held onto the top button of his shirt and undid it for him. He held still as she unfastened each and every button, all the way to the very bottom of his shirt. She nudged it off his body, and she leaned into his chest for a whiff of his cologne. 

Q followed suit behind her, to which she helped him undo his belt. 

Jay ran her tongue along her lips as she took in his scent. He could feel his trousers being undone: he glanced down to find Q tugging them down his legs to his ankles. 

He let his clothes fall off, and he stood there in his underwear before those two girls. 

“Shall we?” he offered them. 

“Let’s,” Q said in a soft voice, and she and Jay made their way to the pool right behind him. He kept his eyes on the smalls of their backs and the backs of their thighs as they peeled off their black silk panties in unison. They stepped into that pool at the same time as if they were mirror images of one another, and then they took their seats on either side of the steps there, and they peered over their shoulders at him in the orange light in anticipation. 

He ran his fingers through his black curls and stepped to the edge of the pool, where he saw the twin flights of white steps down to the shallow white stone bottom. The water looked cold, especially when he saw that their nipples were taut as their breasts floated up towards the surface. But, once he peeled off his underwear, and stepped out of them there on the floor around the pool, he dipped his toe into the water first: much to his surprise, it was rather warm, almost hot. He lay his foot flat on the step, and then he descended into the water. Though he could put his knee down on the floor of the pool without even putting his head and most of his neck down into the water, he still lay flat against the water as if he was swimming in a community pool, and he made his way over to the other side so he could have some room. 

“Ah, you wanna play around a bit?” Jay teased him, and she slithered across the floor of the pool to meet up with him. Q followed suit. 

“This almost feels like a hot tub but without the jets at the bottom,” he remarked as they congregated on either side of him. 

Q put her arm around his chest and kissed the side of his neck. 

“Phew, this is hot,” he remarked. 

“You know what else is hot?” Jay asked him. 

“What, you?” 

Q burst out laughing at that, and then she pressed her lips onto the side of his neck again. Jay followed suit on his other side: two girls kissing him at the same time. Jay then reached down to between his legs to feel him with the water as a cushion of sorts. 

He leaned back and closed his eyes. He could feel the two of them on either side of his body: they both put their arms around him and kissed the sides of his neck, all with the warm water as their bed. Their hands all over his body, all up and down his chest and onto his stomach, and then down in between his legs, all to love on him, to feel him, to give him the feeling that he had never felt before because straight love from one of them simply wasn’t enough to suffice. Q kissed his neck and washed his hair with some of the warm water. Jay felt him up between his legs and gently massaged his toned, lanky arms with the water as a makeshift lubricant. 

His hands wandered to their bare asses and then in between their legs for a feel of their soft skin between their thighs. They worked hard, and as a result, they knew how to care for themselves. 

“By the way, does anyone know that there’s an infinity pool up here?” he asked them. 

“Nope, and that’s the beauty of it,” Jay assured him with a kiss on the lips. She held back for Q to give him a kiss as well, and he showed them a little smile followed up with a dual touch of their clits with the very tips of his middle fingers. Two girls coming at the same time; yet another feat for him.

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