#hand blown glass plug

[harryslittlefreakk]

harry turns 30

summary: a filthy smutty blurb about harry’s birthday 🎈💖

warnings: fluff, mostly pure smut (use of sex toys, restraints , sex ) xx

a/n: i wrote this with late night talking!rry in mind but it isn’t really specified 🙈 i can’t believe harry is 30!!!!! happy birthday to my bf !!

my masterlist can be found here 🫶🏼

“What’s all this?” Harry chuckled, looking you up and down as he stepped out of the bathroom. You were breathtaking in any moment, but as he looked over you now, laying on his bed in only a tiny lilac lingerie set and holding a miniature birthday cake, he’d gladly die right now. If this was the last thing he’d ever see, he’d go without any regrets. You were always at your most beautiful to him when you were in bed. Whether it was the soft morning light creeping in and illuminating your cute bedhair, or the last rays of evening sunshine making you look soft and cuddly, Harry was completely and utterly smitten.

He padded over to you, a gleaming smile cradled by deep dimples as he crawled to meet you in the middle of the bed. “Happy birthday,” you grinned, holding out the cake for him. There were two gold 3 0 candles on top, the flames flickering softly as he gazed over you. “Don’t have anything to wish for, got everything I’d ever want right here,” he said in the same low voice that had you weak at the knees. “Got to wish for something, baby,” you told him. He closed his eyes and blew out the candles, the hints of a smirk tugging at the corners of his pouted lips. Unbeknownst to you, Harry wished to make you his wife and the mother of his babies, to spend every birthday with you from now until the end of time. “Made one,” he smiled, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes as he looked between you and the cake.

He swiped a finger through the frosting, laughing as he wiped it down your abdomen. “Harry!” you shrieked, setting the cake on the nightstand. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you down the bed until your back was flush with the duvet, before moving over you. Harry leaned down to lick at the vanilla frosting, his tongue soft and warm against your skin. His slow movements sent shivers down your spine. It was clear he was going to enjoy you tonight, his best ever birthday present.

He sucked and nipped at your skin, his mouth trailing slowly up the line of frosting. When he reached the top, Harry’s lips found yours, the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his tongue. He licked electricity into your mouth, currents shooting down your spine just as they did any time he kissed you.

“Got you something else too,” you whispered against his mouth. Harry pulled back slightly and looked at you, something adorably soft in his lust-blown eyes as he wondered what else you could’ve possibly got him. You grabbed the box from under the bed, heart racing as you set it down in front of Harry. Though you knew it would all be fine with him, handing him a box of your kinkiest sexual desires had you suddenly nervous.

His eyebrows furrowed as he lifted the lid, eyes darting over the contents. A pale pink glass butt plug, a silicone bullet vibrator, birthday cake favoured lube, and one of Harry’s ties. You could actually see his cock stiffen as he looked over it all, his cock twitching in his boxers as he realised how much fun he’d have with you tonight.

“You are fuckin’ magical,” Harry purred, one hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in again. His kiss was sloppier and hungrier this time, his mouth moving mindlessly against yours as his hand reached for your pussy. His fingers trailed over the lace, passing over your mound before making contact with your entrance. He looked down, somewhat confused at the sudden warmth of your slick on his fingertips. “Crotchless panties,” you smirked, eliciting a deep groan from Harry. He found your swollen clit in seconds, rolling it between his fingers as you writhed under him.

“Turn over,” Harry panted, watching you get onto all fours with your legs spread for him. The sight of your glistening pussy had him falling apart already. He placed the vibrator in your hand, instructing you to hold it against your clit as he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your tight hole to him. You whimpered at the first vibrations, your clit already sensitive from need.

He squirted the cold lube onto you, working it into and around your tightness with one slow finger. You could barely hold yourself up, the strong vibrations and a new fullness making you writhe and shake. “Fuck, Harry,” you whimpered, hips bucking as he touched the butt plug to your hole. “Y’ready?” he asked, his voice low as he pressed a gentle kiss to your ass cheek. He wouldn’t usually move so fast, but he could see your arousal leaking out of you, coating your inner thighs. You could only moan in response, your core already tight and tingling at just the idea of being filled up in a new way.

Harry pushed the plug into you with a groan, his cock twitching violently as he leaned back to look at you. “Harry, I’m gonn-” you started, your orgasm threatening to tear through your body before he’d even properly touched you. He flipped onto his back quickly, head nudging between your legs to lick into your wet pussy. You had full body shivers, your hand knocking into your skin as you tried to hold in your climax. “Come, kitten,” Harry urged, the warmth of his breath against your pussy adding an extra layer to the insane sensations you were experiencing. That was all you needed to fall apart, a screaming cry falling past your lips as you came undone on top of Harry. He pressed a hand to yours and kept the vibrator held against your clit, lapping into your pussy to collect your juices on his tongue as you cried and moaned through your high.

Once your breathing slowed, he shut off the vibrator, throwing it off somewhere to the side. A wave of relief washed over you, your first release like a weight off your shoulders. Harry pushed you down flat, hands trailing down your back as he leaned down to press a kiss to your flushed cheek. “Doing so good for me princess,” he whispered, eyes searching yours for any sign that you needed a break. Even through fucked out and heavy eyelids, all your hungry gaze told him was that you needed infinitely more.

Harry pulled the tie from the box, grabbing both of your wrists in his free hand. He held them behind your back, wrapping the tie around them tightly. “Keep them there,” he warned. “If you move, I stop.” You nodded, whimpering as his body weight pressed against the butt plug. He landed a heavy blow on your ass cheek, smirking as he watched you hold your hands completely still, totally submissive to him.

“Good girl,” he drawled, pushing his boxers down his thighs. You heard the gentle slap of his erection hitting his belly button, his hand coming between your legs to push them open for him. Harry pushed into you hard, his cock threatening to tear you in two. You hiss at the sensation, fuller than you ever thought you could feel, both your holes completely surrendered to him.

Harry groaned as he pulled your cheeks apart, watching himself drill into you with the beautiful little plug deep in your tightness. You were so wet around him, the squelch of your juices on his cock echoing around the room. He could barely keep himself from coming, watching your cream settle at the base of his cock as he fucked into you. He pulled out of you suddenly, only his head left nudging between your swollen lips. His vision was blurred, stars and spots in his eyes as he gazed down at you, beads of sweat forming across your back. If he didn’t steady himself, he’d explode all over your walls in seconds.

Harry gathered himself, his cock twitching as his hips snapped into yours, plowing his cock back deep into your perfect cunt. He spanked you over and over as he fucked into you, his thrusts so deep you felt as if he could come out of your throat. Each blow on your cheek had you crying out, your arms practically shaking from holding them so still. “Fuckin’ perfect,” Harry groaned, grabbing at your face so he could see more of you, see the pleasure etched deep into your features. You were completely intoxicating to him, a drug who’s high he was constantly searching for. He’d never come down since the first time he fucked you, an eternal buzz.

“Gonna come Harry,” you panted, his hands grabbing a hold of your hips as he rocked into you harder, his tip rubbing against your sweet spot. You cried out through gritted teeth, your juices oozing out of your pussy to coat his thick cock. The way your walls closed around him had his eyes rolling back, his cock throbbing inside of your pussy as your hips jerked under him. You were clenched tight around him, your walls threatening to milk his cock of everything he had.

Harry let go, unable to hold himself together any longer. Your pleasure was too inviting for him, the sounds falling from your lips too filthy to ignore. He shot hot come into you, ribbons splashing against your walls as he grunted and groaned. His thrusts slowed, his grip weakening on your soft hips as he came down from his high. He untied your hands, rubbing gently at the red marks the tie had left.

Harry pulled out of you with a hiss, two quick fingers coming up to stuff the mixture of your juices back into you. His hand moved to the plug, before your tiny voice urged him to keep it in.

He smirked, collapsing next to you on the bed as his chest heaved, exhausted from such a heavy climax.

“Hey.”

“What?” you looked over at him, eyes heavy as he brushed a stray hair from your face. “I love you,” he told you, a gentle blush creeping up his cheeks. “I love you, H,” you whispered, your heart threatening to explode in your chest.

“It might be my birthday again tomorrow,” he smirked, pressing a delicate kiss to the end of your nose. “It can be your birthday every day if it means more of that,” you laughed, wrapping an arm tight around his chest.

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#harry edward styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Blue Dream

A mini series

Jacey is Erik’s new weed plug despite their dislike for each other

Warnings: Smut, Enemies To Lovers, Smoking Bi!Erik

The thunderous knock to her apartment door had Jacey taking long strides with her short, thick thighs and booty bouncing behind her. She took a look through her peep hole and quickly morphed the agitation in her features to that of guilt. When she opened her door, her down turned brows and slight pout didn’t get her off the hook. 

“Jacey, I’ve been calling you all damn day. Where have you been? You were supposed to drop by the tent today for the pickup. I had to drag my ass all the way down here to bring you the supply.”

Toni, Jacey’s cultivator and partner to her incarcerated brother, Duke, thrust a Nike duffel bag filled with that good dank— potent and indicating its freshness — before turning to leave. Toni took one final look over his shoulder at Jacey, his once perfectly gelled shiny black hair now a crop of waves atop his head. Jacey surveyed him up and down — body covered in tattoos from his neck down to his ankles — waiting for him to say whatever else he needed to get off his beefy chest.

“C’mon, Toni. Look, I’m sorry, okay? This isn’t all I do to make money. I have a remote job too, remember?” Jacey reminded him with a whine.

“Cariño, you aren’t the only one with a busy schedule. I have to make drops throughout the day on top of making sure the flowers are growing right. Got a new guy who fucked up a batch of wedding crasher.” 

“How did he do that?” Jacey questioned with a frown.

“Powdery Mildew.” Toni replied.

“Shit,” Jacey huffed, “And he’s still working for you?”

Toni gave her a one shoulder shrug, “I got my partner showing him the ropes. Shit’s been in high demand for us growers, Jace. I’ve been putting in double the time.”

Toni’s phone chimed back to back in his pocket, reminding him that he had other places to be. 

“Listen, just let me know in advance if you need a drop off instead of coming to pick it up, okay?”

Jacey nodded her head slowly, “will do. Thanks Toni.” 

“You know I gotchu, bebita. Until next time. Let me know if you like the new exotics.” 

Jacey waved a final goodbye to Toni before shutting her apartment door. She locked it and carried the duffel bag further into the apartment until she was settled in her living room. She made room on her glass coffee table covered in bags of buds and sat the duffel bag in the middle. Unzipping the bag, Jacey was hit with a whiff of the pungent aroma. Banana Cream Pie. a combination of Girl Scout Cookies and Banana OG. The top reported aromas of the Banana Cream Pie strain are lemon, vanilla, and bananas. It is said to taste of bananas and sugary pastries. 

She couldn’t keep her nose out of that duffel bag filled with plastic bags of nugs. The contact high she was receiving was astounding. She was already feeling aroused before Toni stopped by but the effects of Banana Cream Pie had her feeling like she was floating on a vibrational high. Her clit ached for attention and her nipples became stiff peaks. Jacey smiled and wiggled her ass before coming to the surface. She dragged her tongue over her top teeth ecstatically, more than ready to smoke some. She was so enraptured with the duffel bag of exotics that she hadn’t noticed a dainty hand reaching out from behind the couch, popping her on the ass. 

“Who was that, baby?” A melodic voice spoke.

“My grower, Toni. I was supposed to pick up the new supply today and got sidetracked because of YOU.”

Jacey came face to face with her weakness, Marcia. Marcia and Jacey had been together on and off for three years. They knew each other since high school but they didn’t become close until college. Marcia is a lesbian while Jacey is bisexual. She’s also Jacey’s fem dom. Jewel-like, cocoa-brown eyes, skin the color of cinnamon and satiny to the touch, lush lips, and unkempt curls that appeared wind blown with baby hairs. Her long, acrylic french tips sank into the flesh of Jacey’s backside when she reached around to grab her. Jacey gave Marcia a small smile before leaning in for a sloppy kiss. Their heads swayed back and forth, Marcia massaging Jacey’s cheeks from the front. 

Marcia broke her lips away from Jacey’s full ones and her sultry gaze scanned Jacey’s body in a charcoal gray robe that barely fit all her curves, the front of the robe revealing her cleavage and her sternum tattoo of a lotus flower. Jacey bat her hybrid lash extensions at Marcia with a slight bite of her lip. The Banana Cream Pie fragrance circulated their personal space and Marcia couldn’t help but to lick her lips. 

“Toni? And you answered the door like this?” Marcia palmed Jacey’s ass harder, “what I tell you about that shit, huh?”

“He was banging all loud, what did you expect me to do?” Jacey quipped with a defiant roll of her eyes. 

Marcia clicked her tongue, “I bet he was looking. Don’t do that again, Jace…or I’m a bring out Miss Boss and you know what happens when I do that.”

Jacey fixed her face with an innocent smile, “you say that like I don’t want it.”

Marcia popped Jacey on the ass and wrapped a hand around her slender throat. Jacey’s breath hitched and she let out a shaky breath when Marcia’s braless breasts in a thin, white baby tee pressed against hers. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat…Now, show me what he dropped off that was so important,” Marcia let go of Jacey and her eyes fell towards the duffel bag.

“look,” Jacey reached in the bag, unraveling one of the plastic bags, the tips of her fingers securing a nug. She brought it up to Marcia’s nose, the multiple shades of green of her french tips contrasting beautifully with the bud between her pointer finger and thumb. Marcia inhaled deeply and then her eyes rolled shut. 

“Damn, what strain is that?” Marcia asked with low, wanton eyes.

“Banana Cream Pie. Aren’t you happy that your girlfriend is a weed plug?” Jacey boasted.

“Let’s smoke some of that good shit now,” Marcia reached for Jacey’s gold rolling tray and matching grinder. She grabbed a few raw cones and started making blunts for her and Jacey, “My mouth is watering to try this!”

Jacey took off her robe and she sat next to Marcia wearing a pair of Abercrombie & Fitch light gray boxer briefs and nothing up top; perky breasts with pierced nipples on display. Marcia reached for her yellow Backwoods lighter and sparked both of their blunts. Jacey watched as Marcia inhaled slowly, holding in the smoke for a second then gently exhaling the smoke from between her glossy lips. 

“Wow,” Marcia said, smoke constantly billowing from mouth, “it tastes like…like a pastry.”

Jacey wrapped her lips around the end of the blunt and inhaled. She held in the smoke for a few seconds and exhaled through her nose. She allowed her saliva to coat her tongue, remembering the flavor of Banana Cream Pie. Jacey took a few more tokes of her joint before giving her own personal review.

“And here I thought Pineapple Kush was my favorite. It’s right up there,” Jacey took another drag, “Yep…yep…this the one. Toni did that.” 

“Thank you papi! ” Marcia said.

They both giggled. 

“…is it just me, or is this weed making my pussy wet?” Marcia asked.

“Pussy is making a wet spot right now, no doubt.” Jacey said with a flirty wink.

“To be honest, all weed makes me feel like that. You?”

“Nah,” Jacey shakes her head, “depends on the strain for me.”

Marcia and Jacey sat in silence enjoying their blunts for five more minutes before ashing it out to take a break. Jacey turned on the couch to face Marcia, her head resting in the crook of her elbow and her eyes low from the effects of the hybrid strain. She wouldn’t be a good weed plug if she didn’t test the merchandise herself before selling. Soon, she’ll post pictures and facts about the new strain to her Twitter and Instagram for her customers. 

Being a weed plug was never Jacey’s plan, but she aspires to be an Herbalist one day, so she made it her business to know everything about weed. Duke didn’t hesitate to teach her everything she needed to know, she even shadowed Toni at his growing tent to see first hand how the process works. It was fascinating to her. She gained a lot of respect for weed growers after that. The knowledge and skill it takes to make a beautiful flower before curing it is miraculous. 

Jacey was born and raised in Oakland, CA. She grew up in Rockridge, east of Telegraph Avenue, south of the Berkeley city limits, west of the Oakland hills and north of the intersection of Pleasant Valley Avenue/51st Street and Broadway. She works from home during the day as a proofreader for Sodexo and took a break from college when she decided to take over her brother’s business. He only trusted her to oversee things. 

When Duke got booked on illegal gun possession, Jacey knew that she would have to take over for her brother to keep the business flourishing. He was known to be one of the best, if not number one, weed plugs in CA. Her brother had people traveling from Houston, Detroit, Vegas, Washington, Florida, New York, and many other places to buy from him. He was going to school to be a Chemist while raising four kids and being a full-time weed plug. Ten years. It hurt Jacey to see her brother in prison. He had already served two years, and she hoped that his appeal would be granted. 

“What are you thinking about over there?” Marcia asked.

“Nothing important.” Jacey said. 

“When you lie, you look off to the side like this,” Marcia’s cocoa-brown eyes flicked to her left and Jacey’s right, demonstrating what Jacey had just done, “So tell me the truth.” 

Jacey’s nose crinkled in agitation, “Fine. Just thinking about Duke. I went to see my nieces yesterday, and Bella, the mother of his four kids, she’s down bad, Marcia.” 

Marcia sat up, leaning forward to grab her blunt again. 

“Down bad how?” She questioned.

“She’s pregnant, Marcia. And we both know it ain’t Duke’s baby. I told him not to get mixed up with her. It doesn’t do good tryna hide who you really are…”

Marcia lit Jacey’s blunt for her again. The orange embers reflected in Jacey’s dark brown eyes with how close she was. 

“So, you’re saying that Duke only stayed with Bella to keep his other life a secret?” 

“Yeah,” Jacey looked across at Marcia solemnly, “And she made him. She said that if he ever left her, she would out him. But look what she’s doing! She’s messing around on my brother while he’s in prison!” 

“You should tell him about it, Jace.” 

Jacey shakes her head, faux locs falling over her shoulder, “I can’t. That would crush him. He doesn't need that right now. I talked to Bella and I told her that she needs to tell him.” 

Marcia starts laughing, coughing a little from the smoke, “If she wanted to tell him by now I’m sure she would.”

“Whatever,” Jacey ashes out her blunt, standing from the couch, “Let me get back into a better mood…with you.” 

Marcia chuckled, “And what does that entail, Jace?”

Jacey stood in front of Marcia, hands on her hips and a defiant glint in her dark brown eyes. Marcia smirked at her, unable to focus too long on her face when her breasts were right above her so mouthwatering. 

“I feel like…I could use something to make me feel better…this weed has me so turned on…can you help me with that, baby?”

Marcia dragged her top teeth across her bottom lip.

“Hmm…you have to be more specific. What EXACTLY is it you want from me, Princess?”

“Well,” Jacey straddled Marcia, taking her weed from between her fingers, placing it on the ashtray, “I think Miss Boss can take care of me.” 

Marcia couldn’t hold back her laughter. Jacey joined her, both women too giggly and high. Marcia reached for Jacey’s chin, pinching it before leaning in to drag the length of her curved tongue over her lips. Jacey’s motor skills were slow from being high, but the heat radiating from between her legs was astounding. 

“Feel it,” Jacey took Marcia’s left hand in hers, placing her open palm between her legs so she could cup her pussy, “It’s so hot and wet…fuck…this weed got me too far gone…you feel that?”

“Mmm,” Marcia hummed in Jacey’s ear, “Your pussy is so fuckin’ warm. It’s nothing compared to my pussy though.” 

Jacey elevated a brow sassily at Marcia, “Teh, I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

Marcia challenged her words with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Get up and go to the room so I can show you.”

Jacey beamed excitedly. She untangled her generous thighs from around Marcia’s waist to stand and as soon as she did, her foot got caught on the glass coffee table and she tripped, almost falling on her butt. Marcia broke out into a fit of laughter, one hand cupping her mouth and the other slapping the couch cushion. Jacey righted herself and gave Marcia the finger.

“When trying to be sexy goes wrong!” Marcia said with a faux deep voice. 

“Bitch, shut up!” Jacey shouted while inspecting her foot. 

Jacey walked away with Marcia on her heels, giggling. Finally in the bedroom, Jacey climbed onto her all white platform bed with white bedding, lying back against the pillows. Marcia crawled onto the bed seductively before climbing on top of Jacey. They both felt light-limbed and euphoric, staring as if they were seeing each other for the first time. Jacey’s right hand pressed against Marcia’s left cheek, her thumb rubbing softly over the slight dimple there. 

“Who do you belong to?” Marcia whispered seductively.

“…You,” Jacey replied with a rasp in her sultry voice. 

Marcia stole a kiss, her tongue meeting Jacey’s in a sort of tango. Their glossy lips shimmered with spit and molded perfectly as their lips smacked. Sucking tongues, bottom lips, and nibbling. Jacey’s hands were in Marcia’s wild mane and Marcia was dragging her hands up and down Jacey’s hips. Jacey’s legs came up to wrap around Marcia’s waist and she thrust her nude chest into hers, her pierced nipples brushing across Marcia’s. An airy whimper escaped her mouth and Marcia reluctantly pulled her lips away from Jacey’s so she could look down at her. 

Marcia sat back on her knees and without a word she went to work removing Jacey’s briefs. Jacey elevated her hips and wiggled so Marcia could successfully take them off. As soon as they were past her feet, Marcia tossed them to the other side of the king bed before parting Jacey’s thighs. There was no point in waiting, she needed to see that hot, sticky pussy for herself. A hiss escaped her mouth when Jacey’s fat pussy void of hair and glistening met her lust filled eyes. 

If only her eyes could be for Jacey and Jacey alone. They’d been through this many times before. Things would be amazing between them and then Marcia would fuck it up because she couldn’t have just one woman in her life. Jacey was her weakness. And she knew Jacey also felt the same, because if she didn’t she wouldn’t be here with her right now. Marcia tried to shake those thoughts from her head so she could focus on the pussy in front of her. She didn’t even have to spread her puffy lips to see how wet Jacey is for her. 

“Your pussy is always so gushy for me, mami,” Marcia whispered with a sexy lilt.

“Stop talking and taste me,” Jacey looked Marcia directly in the eye.

“I can’t appreciate my meal first before I eat it?” Marcia replied with a playful voice. 

“Not when my clit is throbbing like this!” Jacey said. 

“Okay, brat, since you want it so badly, don’t run from this tongue.” Marcia commanded. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jacey said with a wink.

Jacey spread her thighs further, and that’s when Marcia could see how swollen her clit had gotten. Her vertical clit piercing was covered in her arousal and Marcia’s tongue ached to lick it clean. With her thumb, Marcia rubbed between her inner lips and up to her clit, back and forth. With her piercing, Jacey is more sensitive there, and her inner thighs quaked with each swipe of her thumb. 

“Oooh, baby,” Jacey called out with a melodic voice.

 It didn’t take much to get her off if you knew how to please her. Jacey loved a lot of eye contact and nasty talk. Combine all three of those and Jacey would be putty in your hands. Marcia locked her eyes on Jacey’s bewitching one’s and told her how beautiful her pussy is. Jacey did that pout with her lips that made Marcia weak and next thing she was tonguing Jacey’s juicy folds. She gathered spit on the tip of her tongue and started off slow, warming Jacey up to the amount of orgasms she would be receiving. 

“Fuuck, just like that, baby,” Jacey smoothed Marcia’s hair from her face so she could watch, “Right there…stay on that clit…fuck.” 

“Mhm,” Marcia hummed while continuing to lick Jacey’s pussy. 

She didn’t even have to speak. She couldn’t bring herself to speak. The taste of her pussy had her tongue salivating beyond normalcy. The scent of her pheromones had an effect on her that she could feel in her own pussy. It was a work of art on its own. Marcia looked up between Jacey’s legs at her face and she’s pinching her nipples and nibbling on her sexy full lips. Marcia felt her body jerk from just looking at her. 

She spread Jacey’s outer folds more so she could get to her clit better. With her plump lips, Marcia trapped Jacey’s jeweled clit between her lips and began sucking. One of her hands came down to secure Marcia’s head between her thighs. Her hips started whining and grinding off of the bed to feed Marcia some more pussy. Marcia forcefully pushed Jacey’s thighs back and inserted two fingers into her now creamy pussy. Her pussy began making all the right noises and both of them moaned. 

“Fuck, you’re on my spot, shit,” Jacey yanked Marcia by the hair, “got my pussy so creamy, baby.” 

They locked eyes while Marcia pushed Jacey over the edge. She thrust her hips forward and with one final jerk of her hips, Jacey’s body went stiff and the meat of her inner thighs shook with intensity. Her moans were deep and intensified, unable to have any control over her body. Marcia finally released her clit with a wet pop and gently slipped her cum covered fingers from her warm, wet hole. 

“Damn, Marcia.” Jacey breathed out.

She sat up on her elbows to look at the mess she made all on her white sheets. A small puddle sat beneath her butt and her cum continued to trickle from her opening. Jacey gathered some of her essence on her finger and brought it to her mouth, sucking it off with a moan of pleasure. Marcia sat back on her elbows in front of Jacey’s open thighs and began taking off her teal green cotton panties. Jacey watched her, noticing a wet strip on the crotch of her panties. Marcia’s pussy lips swallowed the crotch and when she peeled them away to reveal her lower lips, sticky arousal connected to the panties. 

Jacey’s mouth parted slightly. Marcia gave Jacey a teasing wink while licking her own wetness from her panties. She tossed her panties over the edge of the bed and spread her thighs more, scooting as close as she could to Jacey so their pussy could be ‘face to face’. While Jacey’s outer lips and inner folds are more on the plumper side, Marcia’s is smaller; more delicate, with a tiny bud. Her inner lips were engorged and darker in color because of how turned on she is. She had a little triangle patch of jet black curls right above her outer lips but the rest was bare. 

They both explored each other's pussies; rubbing, tracing, and flicking with aroused curiosity. Whenever their low eyes would connect, they would lick their lips and whimper. Jacey dragged her nails through Marcia’s small patch of pubic hair and Marcia lightly stroked Jacey’s clit with her thumb. She increased the pace of her thumb on Jacey’s sensitive bud and gasped when she began to squirt, the juices landing on her vulva. 

“You know my pussy so well, baby,” Jacey spoke softly.

“And you know how to be such a good girl for me,” Marcia forced Jacey’s legs back before climbing on top of her, lining her pussy up perfectly with hers, “Time to bump coochies!”

Their giggles turned into cries of ecstasy when Marcia began to grind, whine, rotate, and thrust her hips at the right angle to make sure their clits collided. It was a wet, slippery dance that created music within the room. Sweat collected on Jacey’s abdomen, surrounding her belly button. Marcia’s back was covered in her own perspiration and it made the canvas tattooed on her skin more vivid. The pleasant musk of their scent made Jacey’s mouth water. 

“Oooh! Yes!” Marcia cried out.

“Are you gonna cum on this pussy, Marcia?” Jacey said, “Cum on my pussy, yes, just like that, right on my clit.” 

“fuuuck!” Marcia lowered her head to kiss Jacey and not once did she stop humping her pussy against Jacey’s. 

“I wish I could see how good this looks! Damn!” Marcia shouted, “Damn, bitch, you’re pussy is so fuckin’ juicy!”

“You’re making me cum again, baby…fuck, oh, shit,” Jacey’s thighs quaked, “Right there, right there, right there— Unh! Ah!”

Marcia grabbed a hold of one of Jacey’s titties and fought through the feeling of her body succumbing to her own climax. Marcia moved her hips in a circle and then lifted her hips to bounce her pussy against Jacey’s. Both of their juices made raunchy noises and the feeling of Jacey’s clit stroking Marcia’s from that angle led to both of them climaxing together. Their tacky skin clung to each other when Marcia collapsed on top of Jacey’s heated body. 

“I’m not finished with you yet,” Marcia spoke with a hushed tone, her warm breath tickling Jacey’s ear.

“Time to bring out Miss Boss,” Jacey said, still trying to catch her breath. 

Marcia fought to lift her body and she almost fell over again when Jacey’s fingers slid between them to rub on her drenched folds. She then inserted one finger, moving it around, creating a wet noise before removing her finger to taste. Marcia watched her with parted lips as she sucked her juices off. 

“Mmm…so good,” Jacey moaned. 

Marcia climbed out of bed and walked over to Jacey’s dresser. She opened the top left drawer and after moving some of her lingerie to the side, she found Miss Boss. The eight inch, purple crystal jelly dildo with realistic textured veins the dildo is attached to a pink harness by an o-ring. Marcia retrieved the strap-on and began securing it around her curvy waist and thick thighs. Jacey opened her side table drawer and grabbed some lube. 

Marcia took her position behind Jacey, fixing her arch and watching her cheeks bounce on the tip of the dildo. After lubing up the entire dildo, Marcia tossed the bottle to the side and without any more time wasted, she pressed the wide tip of the dildo against Jacey’s anxiously waiting canal and slid in with ease. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Jacey’s lips wrapped around the shaft of the dildo and the way her clit looked poked out from behind had Marcia groaning. Her pink and white ombré acrylics sank into Jacey’s booty meat for leverage so she could dig into her pussy deeper.

“Cream all over this dick,” Marcia commanded.

Jacey replied with a moan before throwing her pussy back onto the strap. Marcia slapped her ass each time she went low, praising her for taking the dick so well.

“That’s it…give me that pussy, bitch.” 

Jacey bit her lip and scrunched up her face. 

Her cream added more slickness for a better fuck. Marcia grabbed Jacey by the hips and went to pound town. Jacey’s ass cheeks jiggled out of control and her pussy leaked onto the sheets. Titties bouncing, asses shaking, and their sweet moans was a sight to witness. 

“I fuck you better than any nigga ever will, huh?!” 

“Yes! Oh, yes!” Jacey looked back at Marcia.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” Marcia rotated her hips, hitting Jacey’s pussy from a different angle, “That dick hittin’ the bottom of your pussy, slut?”

“Yes mami!” Jacey cried out, eyes tearing up.

Marcia continued pumping Jacey full with Miss Boss, making sure that she felt every inch to remind her who she belonged to. Jacey arched her back more like a good slut and gripped the sheets. She wasn’t running from that strap, and Marcia smirked smugly at that revelation. 

“Shit, I can’t hold it!” Jacey shouted while squirting all over the dildo.

“You tryna keep it away from me? While I fuck you like this?” Marcia questioned.

“Mami, it’s so big and it’s hitting my spot,” Jacey whined. 

“Don’t act scared now, baby. Whenever I bring Miss Boss out, you know what time it is,” Marcia popped Jacey on the ass hard, “Now fuck me back!”

Jacey sat up on her hands and made that ass move like it had a mind of its own. She tossed her pussy back on all eight inches of Miss Boss like she was the boss. Marcia cupped her breasts and thumbed her hard nipples. Jacey took it up a notch and reached back to hold her cheeks open. Marcia took her thumb and rubbed her booty hole before sinking into the tight hole. 

“FUCK.” Jacey slowed down her hips into a slow grind and more creamy goodness coated the veiny shaft. 

“I could cum right now from the way you look,” Marcia said.

“Cum for me, mami,” Jacey spoke seductively.

The friction of the strap hitting Marcia’s clit whenever Jacey bounced back was bringing her to a release. Marcia held onto Jacey’s shoulders and met her hips, the smacking growing louder and louder. 

“Yeah, make this pussy cum, oooh!” 

Jacey’s body seized up and her face smashed into the pillow, her cries and pleads muffled. Marcia lost control and one hand came around to grip Jacey by the neck as her entire body convulsed. The dildo sank deeper into Jacey’s pussy and with one final tug on the dildo, a stream of sticky liquid released all over the bed.

“Look at all this mess,” Marcia admired Jacey’s cream on the dildo and the large wet spot.

“Let me see your pussy,” Jacey turned around on her knees with lustful  eyes. 

Marcia removed the strap-on and crawled next to Jacey to lay on her back. Jacey settled between Marcia’s legs and spread her thighs apart. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Marcia’s slick pinkness and smooth brown outer lips. The further apart her thighs went, the more open her slit became and the more Jacey could see. Jacey’s clit ached at the sight of Marcia’s pretty pussy. Jacey arched her back and pressed her lips onto Marcia’s folds, smothering her with licks, sucks, and kisses. Marcia cried out and clutched for Jacey’s hair. 

“The taste of your pussy on my tongue is driving me crazy, baby,” Jacey whispered.

Marcia forced Jacey’s mouth back on her pussy and she cried out when she began sucking on her clit.

“Shit, Jacey, Fuuck,” Marcia threw her head back, eyes shut tight.

Jacey looked up at Marcia and watched her face contort into a defeated expression. Her hips rolled like she was moving her hips to a slow, freaky beat. Jacey followed her every move, sucking and licking her folds from top to bottom. 

“Keep that pussy in my mouth,” Jacey commanded.

“Marcia brought one of her titties to her mouth and sucked on her own nipple. She raised her hips from the bed and force fed Jacey the juiciest, creamiest pussy. 

“I’m making that pussy cum, Hm?” 

Marcia’s mouth fell open with a silent plea for more. Jacey wrapped her lips around Marcia’s tasty folds and sucked to her heart’s content. Marcia’s eyes rolled shut and her toes curled. 

“It’s coming…it’s coming, oh, fuck,” Marcia pinched and rolled her nipples, “fuck, you’re right on my clit!”

With the intense pleasure, Marcia came in Jacey’s mouth and some of her release slid down her throat. Jacey dragged her tongue between Marcia’s  folds and up to her clit, cleaning her off. Marcia’s head collapsed on the fluffy white pillow behind her, ragged breaths escaping her mouth. Jacey came up for air, wiping the side of her mouth to clean up some of Marcia’s cum. 

They both leaned in for a kiss. Marcia cupped Jacey’s chin and poked her tongue out. They touched tongues and then their lips collided with sloppy desperation. Jacey broke the kiss to stare at Marcia’s lips and then her eyes dragged up to meet her lascivious eyes. 

Six Months Later: 

Temptation. That’s what Erik is to Clayton, that’s what Erik has always been to him. A long distance relationship sadly withered away like ashes from a decaying corpse. To see him in person again overwhelmed him, but also saddened him. He knew they could never be again, and yet the way he stared at him made him weak all over again. Firstly, Erik has a reputation for being a man slag, and Clayton knew that Erik wouldn’t stay loyal for long with him being on the other side of the country. While he was getting bussy in Michigan, Clayton was doing his own thing too. 

Clayton was tempted to punch that fine man in the face for making him feel this way. He watched Erik from his porch lock up his all white Acura MDX, and with a gait that would make any man or woman weak, he strolled over to Clayton’s town home, dressed to impress with sneakers fresh out of the box. In the back of Clayton’s mind, he can hear his family telling him to leave Erik alone. But how could he when his fluffy lips felt so right against his? 

“You miss me, Clay?” Erik whispered.

Clayton’s eyes combed over Erik from head to toe. He loved the tapered locs and the temp fade; very stylish. He wore a cream-colored hoodie and black jeans that hung low in the crotch but tight at the ankles. The diamond studs in his ears matched the diamond tennis necklace around his neck. Erik only dressed up like this to throw Clayton off, make him fall for his seduction. 

“Yeah,” Clayton cleared his throat, “Do you miss me?”

“Do I?” Erik digs his fingers into Clayton’s waist to pull him close and then goes right for the gold, his hand reaching down between his legs. 

“E,” Clayton created space between them, “I’m glad you stopped by but…we can’t do this.” 

Erik elevated a single brow before licking his lips. His eyes roamed from Clayton’s freshly cut glossy black hair, to his full, moist lips, then down to the fitted white beater he wore and the light gray Nike joggers that left nothing to the imagination. He already knew what time it was, why was he acting brand new? 

“So, why did you agree to see me then, Clay?” Erik questioned. 

Clayton turned to open his door, waiting for Erik to enter. Erik gave him a lingering stare before stepping inside. Clayton shut the door to his new townhome, leading Erik inside to the living room. It was nice and cozy. Erik joined Clayton on a black leather sectional that sat facing a wall mounted fireplace with a 72-inch television mounted above it. 

“I haven’t seen you in almost a year, Erik. I’m not going to lie…I did want us to rekindle what we used to have…but it’s best we remain friends.”

Erik sensed how anxious Clayton was and the way he avoided his eyes told him everything he needed to know. Erik didn’t expect for him and Clayton to pick up where they left off, it was too late for that. They were in different directions now. Clayton is seeing someone new, a guy he met online. Erik is single and not looking for anything serious. Clayton was his last serious relationship. He just wanted to start over— new job, new crib, new whip, and a new weed plug. 

“You ain’t gotta explain yourself, bruh. I get it,” Erik rubbed at his nose, a habit of his when he was in an awkward situation, “So, how have you been?”

Clayton chuckled, “Decent. I mended my relationship with my father. Started dating this really nice guy. Too bad I never have time to go see him working two jobs.” 

“Damn, that gotta be tough,” Erik’s eyes landed on Clayton’s lap, “I’m sure he understands.” 

“Yeah…so how’s the new job?”

“I like it. Can’t complain.” Erik said.

“Software engineering, right? You were always tech savvy.” 

“Yep, it’s always great making money doing what you love.” 

Clayton nodded his head, turning away from Erik so he wouldn’t meet his eyes, “Want something to drink?”

Clayton stood from the sofa and headed towards his kitchen. Erik followed him, hands in his pockets and eyes on Clayton’s back muscles and tight ass. 

“Whatchu got?” Erik leaned his elbows on Clayton’s kitchen island. 

“Iced tea, alkaline water, orange juice, something stronger.”

I’ll take some wine if you got it. I don’t need nothin’ too strong, gotta get home in one piece.” 

Clayton laughs, “Since when do you care about that?”

“I’m gettin’ old, Clay. I can’t hang like I used to.” 

Clayton grabbed a bottle of white wine from his countertop and then two glasses from a cabinet. He poured their wine and handed Erik a glass. 

“Too much partying in Boston?” Clayton inquired.

“Way too much,” Erik took a sip of his wine.

“Sounds like you had a good time,” Clayton avoided Erik’s gaze.

“I did…listen, Clay, I’m sorry for how things ended between us. I wish it could have worked out…”

“All good, that shits in the past.” 

Clayton finished his glass and grabbed the bottle, leaving the kitchen. Erik met him back in the living room, kicking off his A1’s. He wouldn’t be able to get through this night on wine alone. He needed his weed and too bad he has the lousiest plug. Erik was expecting to get his dick sucked by the best to ever do it. None of the dudes or chicks in Michigan got a deep throat like Clayton. The thought alone had his dick brick hard. 

“Is it really? Or are you just saying that to avoid talking about it?” Erik questioned.

Clayton couldn’t hide his smile. Those lips.

“Why talk about it? What does it matter, E?”

Erik shrugs, “Because you’re mad tense right now. Like you can’t function around me without doing something reckless…”

Clay tilted his head in thought.

“I’m right. Listen, let’s be honest. You invited me here because you wanted one last taste, am I right?”

“…and it was a mistake,” Clayton shakes his head, “I don’t know why I can’t get over you. I figured if I have you one last time, we can be done with this.”

Erik smiled, “Clay, you know who you’re talkin’ to right now?”

Clayton finally met Erik’s eyes. 

“You ain’t done. Stop bullshittin’.”

“I am, E.” Clayton replied sternly.

“Who you tryin’ to convince? Your new boy toy ain’t enough to get your mind off of me.” 

Clayton shakes his head. 

“If you want it one last time, I’ll give it to you one last time.”

Erik grabbed Clayton’s wine glass and sat it on the table. He gently cupped Clayton’s chin, forcing his light brown eyes to meet his onyx ones. 

“…And I’ll make sure you never forget.” Erik whispered.

Enticement. That’s what Erik is to Clayton. That’s what  Erik has always been to Clayton, it’s just in a much different form now. Erik had hurt him, and he told himself that he wouldn’t go backwards, but when he’d gotten an unexpected call from him a few months prior, old feelings that he’d locked down came seeping through the cracks like a ghostly whisper. While Clayton should be tempted to punch Erik in the face, he couldn’t help but reminisce on the way his lips felt or how good he smelled. 

Erik turned his body causing the leather to creak beneath him, facing Clayton now. His wine glass was empty and Clayton could smell the moscato on his breath. His tapered locs fell over his unkempt brows giving him more of a wilder look. Clayton’s eyes disobeyed him and he glanced down at Erik’s succulent mouth and the way his slick, pink tongue swiped his bottom lip. 

Fuck it. 

Clayton closed the space between them and started sucking on Erik’s tongue. Erik felt blood surge south and he couldn’t help but let go of a shameless moan into the lust laded lip lock. The kiss increased in sloppiness and intensity, both of their hands fisting each other’s shirts and squeezing biceps. Erik digs his fingers into Clayton’s waist to pull him close and then goes right for the gold, his hands dipping past the waistband of his joggers to find his entrance, toying with it while he deepens the kiss. He teased his hole with his finger, causing Clayton to moan. 

“That ass is still tight,” Erik declared with a groan, “I can’t wait to get in that.” 

Clayton looked hesitant for a second but Erik’s finger rubbing his tight hole had him anticipating being bent over and dug out. 

“You know what I miss, Clay. Give me that sweet mouth, Clay…come on…show me you’re still my number one head doctor.”

Clayton’s lips hovered over Erik’s when he reached between them to rub his print. He took it up a notch and unzipped his jeans, reaching inside to pull his length out, stroking him in his hand as his tongue licks deep into his exes mouth. 

Erik’s dick swelled in Clayton’s hand, growing until it can’t anymore, but throbs against his slow stroking fingers as if it wants to. Erik began grinding his hips while pressing his finger right past the restrictive ring of tight muscle, wishing it was his tongue opening up Clayton’s saporous entrance. Erik got all the way down to the knuckle inside of him. 

While Erik’s lips were smothering Clayton’s neck with kisses, Clayton’s eyes were glued to the dick that was once his. It’s still just as beautiful as before. Perfect from the tip down to the heavy balls that Clayton loved to play with. A deep grunt escaped Erik’s mouth when Clayton started stroking the head of Erik’s dick with his thumb. He spread his pre-cum all over the bulbous head and felt Erik twitch in his hand. 

“You knew you wanted this again…Look at you…doing it exactly how you used to…you ain’t forget how to please daddy…”

“How could I forget when you’re the best I ever had?” Clayton whispered wantonly.

Clayton used his free hand to push Erik’s hoodie up, revealing his torso. Clayton eagerly drinks him in with his eyes. Erik had naturally oozing sex appeal. His body is ridiculously chiseled with smooth skin pulled tautly over muscles. Looking at those arms brought back memories of when Erik would easily lift him up and sit him on the edge of any nearby surface had him swooning, his own dick hard and throbbing. 

Erik removed his finger from Clayton’s ass to take off his shirt. Clayton watched with awe as Erik seductively peeled away his hoodie. He began peppering kisses all over Erik’s throat and down to his chest before licking his brown nipples. Erik hissed, his dick throbbing out of control in Clayton’s grip. He wanted that mouth. With his bottom lip between his teeth, Erik did what he used to. He brought one hand up to the base of Clayton’s head and began massaging him there with his fingertips before dragging his fingers down to his neck and back up again. Clayton got the hint and began to drag his kisses over Erik’s abs until he was on his knees between his legs. 

“You gon’ suck me good, Clay?” Erik questioned.

“Yes, daddy,” Clayton said.

“Daddy? I’m still daddy?”

Clayton gave Erik a look that caused him to chuckle.

“Don’t let your new man find that out. You think about me when he fuckin’ that ass, Clay?”

Clayton replied with his mouth sinking lower onto Erik’s dick. Erik thrust his head back and moaned. Clayton used his jaw muscles, tongue, and lips to suck Erik’s 9 inches deep. Working that neck, he would twist his mouth on the uptake, making sure to suck longer on his fat tip. Erik kept his gaze on Clayton no matter how low his eyes were. You’d think he was high by the way his eyes looked. His puffy lips were parted, and he couldn’t stop licking his lips. 

“You showing out, boy,” Erik said, “You suck other dicks like this while I was away, Clay? Don’t lie to me…”

Clayton’s lips popped off Erik’s dick, “I tried, but ain’t no dick like yours.”

“Damn,” Erik sucked his bottom lip into his mouth when Clayton started sucking on his nut sack, “You know that’s gon’ earn you a big nut down your long fuckin’ throat right, nigga?”

“Give it to me,” Clayton spoke between sucks, “Give me that tasty nut.”

“I’ll paint that pretty chocolate face.” Erik said. 

Clayton’s tongue swiped up the base of Erik’s shaft until his lips found Erik’s tip again. Erik brought his palm to the back of Clayton’s head and forced his head down over his dick, guiding him with one hand while his other hand was occupied with playing with his nipples. The guck guck and tight lips had Erik’s eyes crossed. He missed this. Sloppy top. Not one man or woman back in Boston did it like Clayton. He was convinced he’d never find another person to top him. 

“Clay, suck that shit,” Erik’s hips rose from the sofa so he could pump Clayton’s mouth. His teeth sank into his bottom lip hard and he watched with lustrous eyes while Clayton gagged and gobbled him up. 

“Fuck.” Erik thrust his head back, “Here it comes—”

Erik rolled his hips, working his dick in and out of Clayton’s mouth with all his might, body seizing up with his own climax. Clayton knew to stay on that dick. He swallowed it all and left Erik speechless. Dick still solid, Erik wasn’t finished. He raised his hips and pushed his briefs and his jeans off. Bringing his hips to the edge of the couch, he spread his legs and brought his knees up, exposing his smooth ass free of hair. His puckered hole sat exposed beneath his dick and balls and without a word Clayton went right into ass eating. 

He stroked Erik’s tight entrance with his tongue and he would drag it up to his balls. Erik jerked his own dick, focusing on the tip. 

“Put your face in it Clay, stop playin’,” Erik commanded, “Good boy…”

Clayton tongued Erik’s ass so good He had his dick saluted to the ceiling and rock hard. 

“Fuuuck, if you make me cum like this, I’ll return the favor.” 

Clayton gave it his all. Whenever Erik rewarded him with ass eating, Clayton worked overtime to give his daddy what he wanted. Adding a finger, Clayton went right back to sucking Erik’s dick and tonguing his balls. 

“That’s it…look at that juicy mouth…fuck, Clay…Fuuck…Clay I’m about to bust—”

Erik couldn’t even finish his words. It’s been months since he had his ass eaten. Last time it was an ex-girlfriend back in Boston named Cahtrina that he met at M.I.T. She faithfully ate his ass. The best to do it. She could make Erik cum off ass eating alone. 

“Gahdamn, Clay,” Erik let his legs down, “You earned it for sure.” 

Clayton slid his hands down Erik’s thighs, staring longingly at Erik. 

“Are we taking this to my room?” Clayton stood up.

“Whatever you want.” Erik said. 

The door to the townhome opened gently and Danny; Clayton’s boyfriend, entered. Takeout bag in his left hand filled with wings and fries, Danny kicked off his designer loafers at the front door before shutting the door behind him. Danny’s almond-shaped eyes scanned the foyer as he strolled ahead. He made a left turn into the kitchen, hoping to see Clayton there but it was empty. He smooths back his shiny, black, quaffed hair and sits the bag of food on the kitchen island. 

“Clay?” Danny called out. 

He had a busy day as a real estate agent and he wanted to celebrate closing on a property he’d been busting his ass on selling. First thing he did was call up his mom and dad in Korea and then he planned to surprise Clayton that evening. He hoped they could also discuss moving in together since Clayton gave him a key to his new townhouse. Danny left the kitchen to find Clayton and when he entered the living room, his footsteps halted. Netflix was on and the coffee table had two wine glasses on it — one empty. A pair of fresh A1’s sat next to the leather sofa.

Danny stared puzzled, his stomach doing somersaults. He took the stairs, the more he climbed, the harder it was for him to keep it together. When he made it onto the second floor landing, he traveled down the narrow hallway to the master bedroom, and he didn’t have to enter to see everything he needed to see. 

Clayton has a fancy ornate floor mirror overlooking his bed. The lights are dim and the ambiance of the room was purposefully set to compliment the heart wrenching scene before poor Danny. Clayton’s deep mocha skin slick with sweat was arched over the edge of his king sized bed. Danny could see through Clayton’s expression. His eyes were closed but his mouth was agape and spewing incoherent words. The gut-wrenching sound of Clayton’s firm ass cheeks clashing with dynamic thighs filled the room. 

Danny turned his hurt gaze toward the man responsible for his boyfriend’s cries of pleasure. While Danny is more of a slender build, this man before him had to be double his size. Broad-shouldered, well-knit, and dynamic. This is what Clayton wanted. Not some feeble, weak man. A powerfully built man with aggression. 

“Erik…Erik…Don’t stop!” 

Erik. Something in Danny’s mind clicked. The infamous ex boyfriend. 

Danny’s gaze fell to Clayton again, visibly hurt but also turned on. Eyes back on the mirror, he studied the way Erik’s strapping legs flexed. His burly figure Danny envied. He looked up and to his horror, Erik was staring right into his eyes. Danny stood petrified, Erik’s eyes the color of coal burning into his orbs. Despite his focus being on Danny, his hips continued to pump Clayton full of what Danny knew to be the best dick he ever had. A slow, sinuous smirk painted Erik’s mug and the gold slugs decorating his teeth didn’t help situations. 

Clayton wanted to feel disgusted by his boyfriend’s cries or the way his body quivered with pleasure. He wanted to feel disgusted by the way Erik looked slanging dick so good Clayton was professing his love. Danny couldn’t stand there any longer while Erik taunted him with his sinister smirk and unwavering eyes. Danny found the strength to escape and when he did he didn’t look back despite the sound of Clayton’s voice announcing his release. 

“I’m cumming!” 

Clayton came all over the bed sheets and Erik was not too far behind. After three intense thrusts, Erik withdrew his hips and looked down to find his condom filled with cum. Clayton collapsed onto his stomach and Erik stepped away to remove his condom. After tying it in a knot, tossing it in a bin next to Clayton’s mirror, Erik’s eyes lingered on the bedroom door, wondering if Their voyeur was still around. It was exhilarating in the moment to play in the poor man’s face, but now he had to get out of there before things got out of hand. He refused to be around if the boyfriend is still here. 

“Leaving?” Clayton asked, peeling himself off of the bed finally. 

Erik had his jeans halfway on when Clayton gave him a disappointed look. If the turn of events didn’t happen, Erik would be smoking some weed he bought off of a plug earlier in the day. Smoking after sex was his thing. 

“Yeah…I don’t think it’s good for me to stick around, Clay. We both know that.” 

Clayton opened his mouth to protest but closed it when he realized the reality of the situation. Erik excused himself to the restroom and returned to find Clayton putting on a robe, flaccid dick sticking to his thigh from all the cum that sputtered out. 

“I had a great time, Clay…best sex I had in a while…”

“I think it’s best we don’t make this awkward,” Clayton scratched the back of his head, “I’ll walk you out, E.”

Fully dressed — Erik in his clothes and Clayton in a black robe — Clayton walked Erik downstairs. Erik had his eyes searching from left to right for the boyfriend but from the looks of it, he left. Erik wasn’t gonna kick back and wait for him to return. He found his shoes and was able to get his feet in without undergoing the laces. Clayton was looking everywhere but at Erik, avoiding his gaze completely. Maybe he should apologize for being so abrupt with leaving, but what good will that do? Clayton was in for some shit. 

“I’ll hit you?” Erik said.

Clayton opened his door, “Maybe. This shouldn’t have happened…”

Erik chuckled, “Too late for that, Clay. Take care of yourself, homie. You got my number…don’t be afraid to use it.” 

Clayton’s eyes fell to his bare feet. Erik tilted his chin up with his finger, making him look into his eyes.

“Can I get a goodbye kiss?” 

Clayton hesitated, but his lips touched Erik’s quickly and he looked as if he wanted more but instead turned away and shut his door. Erik stood there for a moment while twirling the keys to his whip around his finger. A part of him knew it was wrong for what he did, but was it worth feeling that mouth and ass again? Hell yeah.

Erik jogged down the front steps leading to a concrete walkway. Climbing into his car, Erik cranked it up and the AC hit him causing him to shiver. Erik left as quickly as he could, and when he finally made it out onto the main road, his stomach started growling. After driving for ten minutes, Erik spotted a Wendy’s and quickly turned left into the drive thru. He ordered himself a chicken sandwich meal with a strawberry lemonade. Finding an empty parking spot, Erik sat in his car and enjoyed his meal. 

After a day filled with getting his new place together and last minute shopping, Erik hardly had time to eat. The last meal he had was an açaí bowl. If Clayton’s boyfriend didn’t show up to ruin the party, Erik would have kicked it a little longer and ordered some food. After eating the last of his French fries, Erik placed his trash back in the takeout bag and sat it in his passenger seat until he got home. Turning on the light within his car, he reached in his backseat to retrieve the half-o he bought off a weed plug that was recommended to him by an old friend of his.

Securing his rolling papers, Erik cracked his windows and with his rolling tray in his lap, he started grounding up his weed while listening to Brent Faiyaz. Laying the ground-up bud on a rolling paper, he gently rolled the paper over the top of his blunt cone and carefully added the grounded weed inside. Patting his jeans, Erik found his Zippo Ace High Skull lighter. He sparked up his blunt and hit it. The aroma of the weed was slightly musty and even the taste was off. Erik studies the blunt in his hand before hitting it again.

“Nah, what the fuck?”

Erik grabbed the bag with his free hand and took a whiff. How had he missed it? He knew a bad batch when he saw one. Even the smell would have given it away. The weed was compromised. The weed plug sold him a bad batch. Erik flicked his blunt out of the window and grabbed his phone. He called the plug, his jaw set and nostrils flared.

“Yo,” the plug answered. 

“Nigga, did you sell me some bad weed?”

“Who dis?”

“Oh, now you got amnesia? It’s Erik, fool.”

“I ain’t sell you a bad batch.” 

“Yeah you did. This shit is brown and it smells just like a bad batch.”

“I don’t sell bad weed, you got the wrong guy.” 

“Nah, you got the wrong one if you think you gon’ play me, cuz. I should have known to check this shit before I gave you my fucking money. I want my money back tonight.” 

“I don’t do refunds.” 

“Tonight you will. I want my money back. I ain’t saying it again. I’ll meet you outside and you better bring me my shit, bitch.”

Erik hung up and tossed the bag of bad weed in his passenger seat. He was so filled with rage that he almost drove over a cone in the parking lot. Erik tends to drive recklessly, especially when he’s pissed. On his way out of the parking lot, Erik was about to enter the road when an all black Jeep Wrangler came roaring down the road. Erik pumped on his brakes at the last second causing the Jeep Wrangler to miss his car by two centimeters. The Jeep Wrangler’s horn blared out continuously. Erik felt his chest grow tight and he stared at the Jeep Wrangler with fury. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!!!” Erik barked out. 

The owner of the Jeep Wrangler sped off and Erik was right on their bumper. He skillfully came around to their front where they had no choice but to stop. They stopped with a screech of their tires, a lingering smell of burnt rubber in the evening air. Erik’s heart was racing with how fired up he was. He’d already been upset about the weed and now this driver wants to be an added pain in his ass, almost scratching and denting his new car. He couldn’t see the driver because of the tinted windows, but he could tell it was a woman with the rhinestone encased license plates. 

Erik opened his car door to inspect when the Jeep Wrangler swerved from behind him and sped past him again. Murky rain water from the wet road splashed up and dirtied Erik’s A1’s and the side of his car. Erik hopped out to get a good look at their license plate and although he badly wanted to chase them down, it was too late, they had already disappeared into the night. Erik slammed his car door shut and paced back and forth to calm himself. His fists were clenched and he closed his eyes to try and simmer down but he was seeing red. 

B-B-U-D-D-H-A

One Hour Earlier:

“GET YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Marcia avoided being hit in the face with a dildo that Jacey tossed at her head. Her body was still soaked from being in the shower and the woman she was caught with had rushed out of the apartment with just her red thong with her thing’s bundled up in her arms. 

“YOU LYING, CHEATING ASS BITCH!”

Jacey opened her narrow walk-in closet and any item of Marcia’s she could find she yanked it from the shelves and hangers to toss them at her. Marcia swiftly pulled on a pair of loose fitting sleep pants before she was smacked in the face with a denim jacket. 

“HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID?!”

“Jacey—let me explain—”

“Explain what?! How you ended up on your knees in the shower with a mouth full of pussy IN MY APARTMENT?! An apartment I pay rent in?!!!”

Jacey was a tiny ball of fury. The black hoodie she wore was swimming on her and hiding all of her curves. Marcia stood on the other side of the room with guilty eyes. She couldn’t explain. There was no amount of explaining that could get her out of this situation. 

“I THOUGHT I COULD TRUST YOU AGAIN! After everything I’m going through?! After getting into a stupid fist fight with my brother's baby mama! After the fall out between me and my mom! blaming me for Bella keeping my nieces away from me! And I come home to this?! You eating some bitch pussy?! And for what?! For me to take you back?! Forgive you?!”

Jacey tossed a pair of heels at Marcia who ducked in enough time. The shoes hit the wall hard and put a crack in the drywall. Jacey collapsed against the wall clutching her abdomen, trying her best to catch her breath. Her tawny skin is flushed and she could feel sweat rolling down her spine. Pushing her faux locs out of her face, she stood tall and glared at Marcia through her blurry vision. 

“Get your shit and get the fuck out!” Jacey yelled. 

“Where am I gonna go Jacey?!” Marcia argued.

“See if that bitch you’ve been fucking got a place for you to stay!”

“I can’t go back to my mom, Jace,” Marcia cautiously walked past Jacey to the closet where she retrieved her Puma gym bag to pack her things.

“I don’t care where you go. You can’t be here.” 

Jacey had come home unexpectedly after attempting to spend the weekend with her mom. She hoped to vent to her about the drama between Duke and Bella. Jacey had gone to visit Duke and confessed that Bella was having a baby on him. The hurt on Duke’s face mirrored how Jacey felt. Somehow, word got out to Bella and she showed up at Jacey’s apartment. They got into a heated argument that ended with both of them scrapping in the parking lot. Security had to split up the altercation and Bella didn’t leave without letting Jacey know that she can never see her nieces again. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Jacey. Your brother is already facing so much. You didn’t help by telling him about Bella.”

“If this means I can’t see my grandbabies, we have a problem. Me and you.”

“When will you learn to mind your business, Jacey?”

“Don’t raise your voice at me in my house. You can get your shit and go.”

Jacey didn’t hesitate to leave. The one person she thought would be there to comfort her after a bad day was caught sucking pussy in her shower. She recognized the chick too. A ‘friend’ of Marcia’s that has a boyfriend. That probably wasn’t the first time Marcia brought a woman back to the apartment when Jacey wasn’t there. 

“I can’t take all my shit tonight.”

Marcia tried to get Jacey’s attention but she refused to look at her. If she did, she wasn’t going to fall into her trap. She was going to drag her by her hair out of the apartment herself. 

“Then I’ll leave your shit outside of the door for you to come back for. I want you out of my apartment, Marcia.”

Jacey stormed out of the bedroom and into the living room. She snatched up her white Telfar bag and keys, walking to the door of her apartment to leave. She needed some air and a drive to calm her down. Marcia appeared from the hall with two bags over her shoulders and one in her hand. She’d been crying, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She had her phone to her ear and a somber expression on her face. 

“Ma, can I stay wit you tonight? It’s a long story…”

Marcia walked out of the apartment and Jacey slammed her door shut, screaming. A kick to her wall from a neighbor seemed to tick her off more. Walking up to her patio that overlooked the parking lot, Jacey could see Marcia lugging her bags to her red Kia. 

“HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY WITH YOURSELF YOU LYING ASS HOE!!!!”

Marcia ignored her and climbed into her car. A few of Jacey’s neighbors that were entering the building stopped to watch her shout obscenities.

“YOU DIRTY BITCH! DON’T FORGET THIS!”

Jacey picked up a rainbow 10 inch dildo and tossed it over the balcony. It landed on the pavement and bounced into the gutter. Her neighbors chuckled and pointed at the sex toy. 

Marcia reversed out of her spot and sped off as quickly as she could to avoid being seen. Jacey didn’t care about her neighbors laughing. That was the last thing on her mind. 

“Fucking dirty bitch!” Jacey shut her patio doors and left her apartment. 

She couldn’t wait to scrub her shower down and clean her sheets. The audacity of that bitch. Walking to her car, Jacey tried her best to fight back tears, but she couldn’t. She crumbled in her driver’s seat, gathering the sleeve of her hoodie to dab her eyes. If she was being honest, she was more so angry with herself about it. This isn’t the first time that Marcia played in her face. 

Jacey started her Jeep Wrangler and drove out of her apartment complex. She didn’t have any idea where she was going to go, so she just kept driving, the smell of rain from the fresh air filling her car calming her down. After ten minutes, her heart steadied to a normal rhythmic pattern. She turned into a nearby shopping center and parked across from a Wells Fargo ATM. 

Jacey opened her bag and grabbed a stack of money to deposit into her account. She locked her car doors and walked up to the ATM to deposit the money. She could feel her phone vibrating in her pocket and she knew it had to be Marcia. Exhaling, Jacey turned to walk back to her car and climbed in. Opening her glove compartment, Jacey grabbed her gold rolling tray and in her bag was a key of mandarin cookies, rolling papers, and a couple cones. The Mandarin Cookies strain is a sativa-dominant hybrid with a sweet, fruity aroma and a taste of tangerine and cookies. She snatched up her yellow Backwoods lighter from her drink holder and started rolling a blunt. 

Jacey toked on her weed and after five puffs she felt a sedating and calming high overcome her. She could taste the citrus and diesel from the hybrid strain and it relaxed her. Uplifted, Jacey ashes out her blunt to finish back at the apartment. Starting her car, eyes dry and vision hazy, she left the shopping center and headed back towards her apartment. Jacey wasn’t focused on how fast she was driving. Anybody in her way needed to make room. She maneuvered her truck like it was a buggie. 

Jacey made a swift turn going at 40 MPH when a white Acura MDX came zooming out of a Wendy’s parking lot. Jacey rammed her foot into the brake pedal, hee bag falling to the floor of the car. She swerved around the car and honked her horn repeatedly to get their attention. She didn’t wait around to see who it was and kept going, but the Acura MDX was right on her bumper. The luxury car came from behind and stopped right in front of her. Jacey gasped, pumping her brakes again just in time. 

“YOU ASSHOLE!!!!” Jacey shouted. 

She wanted to see who the fuck was driving that car. She wasn’t going to step out of the car. Luckily her windows are tinted. When the car door opened, she could tell that it was a man. Jacey quickly put her car in reverse and switched gears, speeding past the road-ragged maniac, sending a puddle of water onto him and his car. Jacey’s mouth dropped open in surprise as she watched her rear view mirror for the driver. When the coast was clear, Jacey broke out into a fit of laughter despite her rapid heartbeat and shaky fingers. 

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#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #blue dream aesthetic

[kingofsummer93]

Where Have the Bubbles Gone?

A silly Elucien NSFW drabble inspired by this stunning art by the talented @sarahsoba.

Word count: 1.5K | Rating: E

Elain shivered as Lucien’s hands stroked up and down her thighs, his lazy, contented grin turning a mischievous shade that she knew all too well.

“You know,” she teased, squirming a little in his lap, “the point of a bath is to get clean.”

His laugh was low and wicked, and Elain bit her lip to keep from smiling. She reached for her glass of bubbly wine and took a sip, if only to cool her rapidly boiling blood. The bubbles exploded on her tongue, as luxurious and intoxicating as Lucien’s hands roaming over her body.

“Can you blame me? It’s hard to think clean thoughts when you’re straddling me looking like that.” He reached up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“Looking like what?” she asked innocently, cocking her head to the side. She slowly ran her hands down his chest, digging her nails in just enough for a groan to slip from his throat.

Lucien sat up, water sloshing in the bath as he lowered his lips to her ear. Elain squirmed again, her pulse increasing. “Wet,” he whispered.

He leaned back in the water, bracing his hands on the side of the bath, his smirk one of pure male arrogance. Elain scooped a handful of the rapidly disappearing bubbles, blowing them into his face.

“Hey!” He threw a hand up, chuckling as he shielded his face from the lavender-scented bubbles. “What was that for?”

“For making assumptions you have no evidence of,” Elain said primly.

Even as she said it she adjusted herself in his lap until she was straddling one of his muscled thighs. It took a considerable amount of restraint to prevent herself from rubbing against him to relieve the growing ache between her legs. Even more so to keep from inching forward in his lap and feel the evidence of his own arousal press against her. The smell of lavender was heavy in the steamy air, but not enough to mask the salty, musky shift in his scent.

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow, his hands now trailing lightly up her sides. “Who’s thinking dirty thoughts now?” His thumbs lightly brushed the underside of her breasts, and her nipples pebbled at the touch.

His eyes dipped, his fiery, mismatched gaze growing hungry at the sight. Elain drank him in for a moment, his auburn hair shining like flames in the candle light, golden skin gleaming, lips curved into that maddening smirk.

“Well, can you blame me?” she asked. “When you’re sitting there looking like that?”

Lucien laughed again, his fingers inching higher until his thumbs were circling her nipples. “Looking like what?”

Elain rocked her hips once, just enough to make her breath hitch. Lucien’s heartbeat was racing as quickly as hers, though still he only grinned at her. Damn this male and his control.

No matter. She could play this game too.

“Like you know the bubbles are not the only thing getting blown tonight.”

“Shit.”

It was Elain’s turn to laugh as Lucien surged forward and yanked the plug from the bath. The water gurgled around them, the remaining bubbles disappearing until she spied what waited for her underneath the water.

Lucien dipped his head towards her neck as he reached around and grabbed handfuls of her ass to lift her hips up. “Is that so?” he murmured. His breath was warm against her ear. A sheen of sweat coated her skin, even with the water draining from the tub.

His hand dipped between her legs and they both groaned as his fingers slid through her slick folds, swirling lazily. “There’s my evidence,” he whispered.

Elain wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his neck, dropping the coy act as his fingers worked her maddeningly slowly. When one of his fingers slipped inside her she bit the crook of his neck to hold in her wanton moan.

Lucien hissed, smacking her ass playfully. “Naughty.”

She dropped a kiss to his reddened skin, and then another, all the way up his throat. Lucien groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips as she kissed all the way up to his ear. She dug her teeth into the soft flesh of his earlobe, chuckling as his breath hitched.

“Guess we’ll just have to take another bath after,” she teased.

Her teasing has the desired effect- Lucien’s fingers increased their pace, sending heat coiling deep in her belly. His fingers tangled in her hair, lifting her head up just enough for him to press his lips to hers. He kissed her, slowly, lazily, until her thighs trembled from the effort of holding herself up.

“Use your words,” he whispered against her mouth, his lips curled in a grin even as he kissed her. “Tell me what you want.”

Elain whined, and Lucien laughed softly. “You know what I want, you cocky bastard.” She wrapped her fingers against the base of his cock to accentuate her point, gripping him tightly. He groaned in response, his fingers faltering slightly as his hips jerked.

She pushed against his chest until he laid back against the side of the bath, chest heaving, eyes heavy-lidded with lust. His fingers slipped out of her to grip her hips tightly, holding her above him.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

She lowered herself an inch, until the swollen head of his cock rubbed against her soaked, sensitive flesh. “This.”

Another low, rumbling laugh. “I see. My mate wants my cock.”

Elain whined at his words. The golden cord wrapped around her ribs sang in response, coiling as tightly as the pleasure building inside her. She rocked her hips, rubbing herself against his already leaking cock, shivering in anticipation.

“Yes.” It was becoming difficult to stay coherent with her brains leaking out of her ears. Damn him and his self-control. She’d make him beg later. With her mouth. The thought made her chuckle darkly.

“Then take it, my love.”

Elain lowered herself slowly, hissing at the sweet, sharp pain as she stretched to accommodate his size. Lucien’s hands were everywhere, rubbing up her thighs, her breasts, her ass, like he wanted to touch her everywhere at once.

A string of filthy praise fell from his lips as she rocked her hips slowly, finding her rhythm. “That’s it,” he murmured, head slumped back against the side of the bath. “Have your way with me. Use my cock.”

His words urged her on, and she moved faster, his hands guiding her as her hips lifted up and down. She tipped her head back, hands braced on his chest, reveling in the feel of having him like this, under her control.

“Fuck you’re a goddess.” His voice was ragged, as if his control was finally slipping, and a giggle slipped from her lips. She’d still make him beg later. Just for fun.

The bath was slick with leftover bubbles, the wet slap of their skin echoing around them as she rode his cock, hard and fast. Her rhythm faltered when his fingers slipped between them to rub her clit.

“Lucien,” his name fell from her lips in a breathless moan. She might be the one begging now, but that was fine.

Lucien pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her back and bracing his feet against the bath as he thrust up into her. Elain slumped against him, gripping him tightly as the edge of her vision started to shimmer with the promise of ecstasy.

“That’s it, love,” he groaned. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” His deep voice was husky and ragged, rumbling through her bones, and it was enough to tip her over the edge.

She shattered against him, biting his shoulder again to muffle her cries as pleasure rolled through her in a hot tidal wave. Her mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood as her teeth sank into his skin. The taste made her feel wild, awakening some primal instinct inside of her, prolonging her pleasure.

My mate, the beast in her chest roared. Mine.

“Yours,” Lucien groaned in agreement, as if she had it out loud. She could feel him tensing underneath her as he slammed into her hard, and then stilled, groaning her name as his body shook with his own release.

She stayed slumped against him as their heartbeats slowed, both their bodies still shaking slightly. Eventually Lucien sat up, cradling her against him, and turned on the tap. Elain yawned against his neck, the warm water lulling her into a peaceful, sleepy daze.

“I’m not done with you.” Her words were slightly slurred with exhaustion, muffled as she pressed her face into his neck. “I’m going to make you beg.”

“Shhh. Of course you are, love.”

“Maybe tomorrow morning, though,” she relented, hugging his neck tighter as she yawned again.

Lucien chuckled softly as he gently cleaned her off. “Whatever you say, angel.”

Elain sighed in contentment, warm and safe in the arms of her mate.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @areyoudreaminof @hallway5 @tuzna-pesma-snova @labellefleur-sauvage @separatist-apologist @corcracrow

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elucien drabble #elucien smut #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

[thosewickedlovelies]

Press Play  |  Tim Rockford x afab!Reader

Rating: M for Mature

Summary: Detective Rockford’s ever-present tape recorder finds itself an unexpected use.

Tags: friends to lovers; non-explicit smut; workplace smut adjacent in that this takes place during a workday, but no one comes down to your basement work space so ur basically safe.

Word count: 1,875

Note: Welp. Here we are, writing for another character from a random commercial ✌🏼

Masterlist

“Hey Tim, is your tape recorder charged? We’re gonna need it to interview that guy tomorrow.”

“Ugh, I don’t know, the last few suspects have been so useless I haven’t bothered checking. You’d have to plug it in and see.”

Detective Tim Rockford peers around his computer- the one less than a foot from your own, on your two pushed-together desks. In the cramped basement and on a shared case, it had made sense to pool resources, so to speak.

“It’s, uh..” Tim half rises to search amongst the stacks of paper and evidence bags on his desk. A neon sticky note floats free from a stack lifted up and he snatches for it distractedly, eyes still scanning the cluttered surface.

“Oh, wait, I threw it in here after…” He drops back into his chair to open a drawer. His throat bobs. “...the other night.”

The words ignite between you like a struck match. Tim can’t seem to decide if he should meet your eyes.

One long arm deposits the tape recorder just across the boundary of your two desks. “I think you still have the charger. You might as well transfer the last few interviews to the drive, too, if you wouldn’t mind. To clear space on it.” Tim’s chair squeaks as he recenters himself, hiding behind his computer screen again. 

Right. You plug in the recorder, staring off at nothing while the software syncs. Moments later, Tim sets his glasses aside with a huff, a sure sign that he, too, is having trouble focusing. You hadn’t thought the other night would change things- had prayed that it wouldn’t, in fact. Yet here you both are, dodging and swerving the subject like two magnets of the same polarity. 

Your computer pings, and you begin the rote task with a sigh. After the first few transfers, your attention sharpens, and you frown at the list.

“Hey, who was the last person you interviewed? The recording is like an hour and a half long.” All the ones before it had barely lasted half an hour, but this one had continued until the storage space filled up.

“What? It shouldn’t be. Like I said, we haven’t talked to anyone that interesting lately.” Retrieving his glasses, Tim rounds the desks to stand behind your chair, bending to peer at your screen. One hand is braced on your desk, the other on your chair, by your shoulder. His chest is entirely too close to your face- the whole wide, strong breadth of it, faintly scented with familiar cologne. You swallow.

Focusing on the screen is no better. Tim's hand lifts from the desk, one thick finger following the line in question, from the duration, to the date, to the time of the recording. “But this was the day we…the other night.” Tim turns his head to you, eyes wide. His lips part at how close he finds your face.

Your brows draw together. “Did you…?”

“No! I mean, not on purpose. I might have knocked it on accident, when…when I moved everything else.” A scarlet flush is crawling steadily up Tim’s neck.

The wall clock ticks. The industrial air-conditioning hums. Silence builds and builds until it vibrates in the air between you, louder than the thought you’re both thinking.

“Should we play it?” 

Your question lands with all the tact of a live grenade. But the two of you have already blown up the boundaries of propriety between colleagues, so what’s a little more destruction? 

Tim straightens slightly, as if bracing himself. “We have to know what it is, I guess.”

You place your hand on the mouse. But for all your bravado- for all you will yourself to do it- something holds you back. 

Tim places his hand over yours. You look at him in question. 

“If it sounds anything like it felt, then…it can’t be that bad.” Tim has a half-smile on his face. A return of the agent you normally see; your partner, the one whose reassurance you trust when things seem uncertain.

Your smile mirrors his. Tim’s finger presses down on yours.

Click. 

The first sounds are an overlapping confusion- papers rustling, a scrape and a muffled clatter that’s probably the tape recorder being swept off the desk with everything else. It raises goosebumps on your arms to remember Tim’s impatience, his hunger- his disregard for absolutely everything but you in that moment.

The background noise settles, and human sounds become clear. Quiet moans and eager sounds, murmurs. Lips meeting and parting and meeting again. Cloth sloughing off skin. The deep timbre of Tim’s voice. Your face flames at the memory of some of the things he said- and how much you liked them.

A loud, hoarse groan- Tim’s. 

You slide Tim a sideways glance, still amused at the pure relief and volume of that sound. The flush on his neck seems to have gleefully expanded its territory: his ears look red enough to heat the room. But he cuts a look back at you with an unapologetic shrug, one eyebrow arcing.

You giggle and start to shush him, only to clamp down on the sound as it turns into a drawn-out whimper. The desk creaks. “Every day you wear these button-downs, and you bend to look in your desk, or kneel somewhere…it’s torture.” Tim groans in exaggerated anguish, muffled and wordless again as something else occupies his mouth.

More rustling and creaking, breathy sounds. You can’t look at Tim, more aware than you’ve ever been of the button-down stretching over your breasts. You don’t wear them every day- but apparently it’s often enough. 

The stiff fabric feels drawn abnormally tight over your chest. Tim, still above you, has the perfect angle at which to drop his gaze directly into the vee of your top, sliding it down, down, like a drop of sweat, until the slope of your breast meets your bra. Conscious of his attention, of your chest's every rise and fall, your breathing flounders.

“Fuck, and I thought you looked good with your suits on.” The stunned appreciation in your tone suggested that months worth of study were being upended in your head.

Tim chuckles, the sound echoing the one playing from the computer. He finally shifts, dropping to one knee beside your chair. Your lips quirk; you’re as unrepentant as he was earlier.

“Let me down.” A scuff of leather, a metallic clink.

“What..? No! No, baby, if you do that-” A low, pained sound. “If you do that, I will not last.” Tim sounds faintly embarrassed, but firm.

A high gasp. “I can do that, though. Fuck, if you knew how often I thought about it…”

His next words are too quiet to make out, but you remember them; the husk of them in your ear, sending shivers all over. “Let me taste you.”

You remember how gently Tim stopped you from diving, mouth-first, into his pants, and instead helped you back up onto his desk. You remember the slow, reverent way he knelt, maneuvering your legs apart, fitting his broads shoulders between your knees. His brown eyes, wide and glimmering between your thighs.

A nearly audible smack as your hand hits your mouth just in time to smother a strangled cry. 

And you remember, with the soundtrack ringing around you, just how talented that shapely mouth of Tim’s is.

Fabric whispering, the desk creaking alarmingly as you squirm, your whines barely contained. Tim garbles praise in between sounds of relish. All the noise you’re trying not to make rises overhead like steam, and another sound becomes apparent.

You’re wet. Dripping in a way that can’t be kept quiet. Heedless, Tim laps it up eagerly. When he adds his fingers it’s loud, an obscene squelching that he seems to delight in, using his mouth right alongside his hand to add to the sounds and sensations overwhelming you.

It’s a symphony of depravity unfurling on all sides. Tim was only partially right; that night had felt incredible, but listening to it now, with him right beside you, is an entirely different experience. Restless desire prowls in your blood. Your heart pounds and your hands twitch, but you can hardly tackle Tim to the floor in the middle of a workday. The pair of you are already lucky that no one has needed anything from the basement in the past twenty minutes.

You sit so rigidly that Tim worries you’ll snap. Decisively, he eases his hand from the chair back onto your shoulder, squeezing until your chest expands with a much-needed breath. You glance at him.

“You were so wet,” Tim murmurs. “It was...fuck, it was so hot. It turned me on to see you so turned on.” He swallows. “I never imagined…”

His confidence deserts him. You turn your head more fully as his gaze flits away, your attention dropping lower. It’s still turning him on, it seems, to judge by the swell in his trousers. Tim clears his throat, shifting as he reaches down to adjust himself. He risks another quick glance at you.

Even under the dingy basement lighting, he’s beautiful. Strongly sloping nose, full lips. Rich brown eyes, round and glittering under brows drawn together like a steeple.

“Never imagined what?” you whisper.

An ominous thud of wood, nearly lost under a long, muffled wail.

Both you and Tim startle.

As your recorded climax tapers off, you start to giggle; then Tim starts to giggle, and then you’re both laughing, shoulders shaking, relief rolling off both of you like happy gas. You clutch at the hand Tim had laid on your shoulder, holding it in your lap while your laughter subsides. His work-roughened fingers tighten around yours.

“I never imagined I’d get to do that to you,” Tim says. His smile is shy yet sure. A gleam of hope in the dim.

Tim makes a deeply satisfied sound. Breathless compliments and more kisses are traded for the next several moments. It’s obvious when you come to by the way your voice raises slightly, and although your words are unintelligible, the insinuation in your sensual tone is clear.

“Please, baby…” The rest of Tim’s response is lost, deepening to a rough whisper.

The rest of your exchange is too faint to make out, but it doesn’t matter.

You both remember what was said.

Tim glances at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering, his eyes darker than a moment ago. Your hand aches from gripping his, both still resting on your leg. 

“I like when you call me baby,” you murmur lowly. That hand flexes, the fingers stretching, splaying, digging lightly into your thigh. Your breathing stutters.

Tim reaches up to pause the recording. Still kneeling, he turns, and uses his grip on your thigh to rotate your chair as well. His other hand curls around the back of your knee. 

He inches closer, and your legs part without second thought. Tim nuzzles at your inner thigh. A wave of deja vu knocks the breath from you, your heartbeat quickening to a throbbing pulse between your legs.

Thanks for reading! ❤ Find more like this on my Masterlist

“Baby.” There’s a twinkle in Tim’s brown eyes, blatant begging in his tone. “What do you say we listen to the rest of this somewhere more comfortable?”

#tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford fic #merge mansion #tim rockford/reader #tim rockford/you

[cosmicanger]

Kasia Fudakowski, “Mussels, Motor, Mouth” , 2023; Installation view of “Gallery Power LTD”, ChertLüdde, Berlin, 2023; Steel, Plexiglas, acrylic paint, hand blown glass, steel, motor, smart plug, 184 × 72 cm

[lastconcourse]

Blunder Plus, MegaWinter

Anabolic stage scene

Regiondirect→ center stage:

The scene is a living room at 2:00 on Christmas morning. The set is a middle class living room with new cream carpet and clean white furnishings. Regionreaders see a standing height view of a decorated tree on the left, under it, some presents in boxes, some on a table, and some on the large couch. Decorative looking columns separate the living room from a kitchen at left (stage right). A blizzard is making motion and sound in the trees outside. The camer’eye drops vertically until the view is on the floor, the entire room now feels like a canyon with small sized objects like sockets and chair legs dwarfing the regionreader’s perspective.

Now the room is unusually dark. The color fades back and forth from black and white to full color. Reflections of Christmas lights on the gloss surface of hung ornaments look like distant radio towers flashing. Green + blue glow is bouncing to a haze on the window over quick snowfall and increased wind outside.

(Rectangular present boxes, white carpet, sectional couch, brown end table, fireplace mantle clock, Christmas tree, ornaments with names, a snowmask sunrise, a window into a backyard with birdfeeders and snowy branches + perched cardinals, a cellphone charger plugged in, many baubles, a glass light dome on the ceiling, a vacuum cleaner parked in the corner, a reading lamp by a lounge chair)

Snowy tree branches violently blown by the wind slam into the window,

A fast burst of downfalling snow with glass,

Onto rainwet carpet, ten twigs now drop,

Three round green baubles tumble off branch-steps,

and enter the glasswater clump. Quick→smash glop.

shatterbreak tone.

A whole branch from outside enters the second window, breaks in two, and an asteroid made of doorhinges enters from stage right on a wide orbit and crashes into the middle of the room. Thousand hinges spill. The two tree branch pieces break into four, and two silver hinges crawl up like bugs and join them as knees: this makes the branches into the legs.

Blizzard wind throttles the living room. Where are the homeowners? One of the giftboxes is crushed by a grandfather clock, cardboard and wrapping paper blow around, ripping up, floating, now damp and mixed with dust of clockglass. Paper scraps and torn ribbon strands coalesce under wind force in the corner and are glued together when a huge pair of hands squeezes a glue bottle into the mess from above the stage. A 4wd bulldozer made out of a leather suitcase and a dustpan pushes the paperboard slurry inside a steel basin. Now the basin drains down an open duct from stage left to stage right and fills up a double-sided mould where the paperglassglue slurry dries in the shape of two arms; and this makes the arms.

and the arms are raised out of the mould and are lifted into the air by a gantry in the night sky while the Christmas tree tips over and explodes→ out→orange flame. Same time, a long tubular birdfeeder is blown through the window and starts rolling around on its side like a rolling pin: Tossing around windust.

The back wall collapses→and the backdrop is now a moving projection of a hospital corridor with square telemetry terminals and a tall IV drip pole.

A stack of nineteen giftcards tied up and laid down sideways grows flanged wheels and drives from stage right on a railroad to stage left like a boxcar. All of the cards are addressed to one person but their name is misspelled a different way on each one. It crashes into an open mailbox which closes its door, raises its flag, and shrinks into darkness.

Mantle clock from the brick hearthjamb meets tire mud

Hands against its face brusquely bent and halted

Bulldozer pushes the mud-cloaked brass left.

Phone charger cable spunsweept: coil-whip; flies→

airborne→ a white corkscrew, serpent-tornado

Stage middle,

tall white tail+ small green tree pins sucked, spun.

White soft rug scraped off the floor by the rampage

of a jealous vacuum cleaner turned hate-fiend.

The white soft rug retreats in waves like slime mold

while marble + bricks from the hearth fall on it.

A silver shower basket rolls into the middle of the stage on four thick-tired wheels.

A helicopter with a robotic hand wearing a blue surgical glove flies up to the ceiling light and reaches for the dome→

The ceiling light dome is unscrewed, taken down, and epoxied to the silver shower basket to create a skull, this is the skull.

A volleyball falls from the ceiling and is popped by a gliderdart. The limp corpse of the volleyball is stitched to the domebasket to cover it up as skin and scalp.

The vacuum cleaner drives around on its own at stage left and is picked up by a gantry. Big robotic hands wearing blue gloves wield surgical instruments and a rusty toolbox and now move in from right and left. The vacuum gets doorknob joints implanted on four points to create a torso, this is the torso.

Branches from the tree that fell through the wall roll and snap on the ground like alligators, and are then carved into legs by mobile sculptorsaws: These are the wooden legs.

A bunch of shards of glass from the broken ornaments and window are crushed, melted, blown and pulled long to reshape them into two arms, these are the arms.

The two arms are duplicated. One pair of arms is attached to the body of the grandfather clock, with one arm emerging from where the face was and the other from the pendulum chasm. The other two arms are jointed to the top of the ornamental end table. Each arm gets a doorknob for a shoulder joint. These parts together make a tall humanoid and a short one. These armbeings walk to the center of the stage (now an arena) and precede to box each other, armwrestle, and then finally fence with foils.

The Christmas tree is now burned and snowed over, snow melting under flames reigniting then going out→ in sync with a flame elsewhere lit under the burning plastic branches to bloom.

This whole horizontal mess looks like a flashing matrix of LED lights going red, then down to orange, then almost dead dim, then orange and red again. It’s angry fire though. Eventually the most of the tree is burned, wet, soot. Three small tornadoes of soot spin at the border.

Sparse green in slopslurry char-ash: Burnt stand→ Within burned, wet soot:

Melted cable

White, awful wire: Shock from spark to socket

Went left to right and burned the drywall

And a tall gardening cart slides from stage left to right←on a monorail track, then reaches out a reticulated lamp post limb which ends with a dustpan, and now starts scooping the plastitreesoot. Now a sapient bottle of soap goes stage right to left→ and dumps a stream of soap that pours long and forms out to the shape of a human hand. The soaphand starts attempting to clean the ashes and melted plastic off the carpet, but the burnt goop is too fused with the cream grid of fibers for any success.

The hospital scene backdrop shows a sobbing nurse.

Regiondirect→ In kitchen stage left

Napkins launch into the air as fabric rocket planes and land gently as migrating butterflies. The butterflies eat minerals off of metal pieces of ornaments and shiny glass. Napkin rings fall from thirty feet in the air and clack on the exposed concrete where the carpet has retreated in fear.

The sets of arms now throw down their foils and beat each other to death

The storm cloud is a heavy tarp with thousands of pores, suspended on a horizontal zigzag lattice boom, coruscating center to edge through colors of black purple and gray:

Like winterain bioluminescence

along this airborne trespasser who makes everything wet.

The wind is a network of hateful drum fans suspended on flat helium balloons, puffeting angrily at the old pictures on the walls in the attacked house: Wind, stormcloud’s sidekick.

Regiondirect:

On the stage right walls→

Family portraits in frames are blown down and fall into intelligent blenders hidden under the carpet around the floor at stage left. The blenders grind up the pictures.

Next to ramps underneath the blender blades, trapdoors open upwards. Long linkages located outside the blenders then pull back the blade+blademotors, sideways, and out of the tank; and the contents of blended portrait scraps fall down the ramps, and into a running waterfall + creek that then ends on a conveyor. Now this wet slurry of destroyed image is carried up→the elevator to a hanging lattice structure on the ceiling at stage middle where the wet mess is funneled down a traffic cone into a pair of moulds hung above candleheaters where the heat dries it, and turns it into arms, legs, and a head: Body out of the drying filth.

The sectional couch bends on a joint in the middle, the sectional couch bends in half like a giant pair of calipers, and it has six thick tractor wheels, the offroad sectionalcouch drives to stage left from the right side of the collapsing living room, where it gets rained on with wall dust and ash and hail, to the center where it grasps the remaining Christmas presents+burnt tree and bites into→the boxes with twelve spears made out of firepokers that emerge from under the cushions.

Two gloved mechanical hands and a gantry pick up the Sixwheeler couch, remove two wheels→ saving four as shoulder and leg joints, cover it in plaster + electrical tape, and set this up vertically as a torso. Leftover brass from the smashed clocks is now melted in with iron from the Christmas tree base and now mixed with glass from everywhere and poured into a head-shaped mould→ This makes a skull.

head of moltengloss-brass staked→on plastered cushion shoulders+chest

A cardiogram is heard flatlining mixed with an ambulance siren mixed with a low note from a pipe organ mixed with the song of a mourning dove.

Regiondirect:

The ceiling and rear walls implode and bury the set, then the stage floor opens up and the calamity is sucked down through water→ the whole stage is built on top of a garbage disposal and sink.

A curtain (like the ones in hospital rooms) falls.

#writing #script

[thesandersinitiative]

How big is the chance of getting blown up in this career path?

Patton steels himself, and for a moment, it's impossible to tell whether he's about to refuse Remus or indulge him.

Then, overhead, a muffled curse that sounds distinctly like Doctor Storm as several things crash loudly in the background, as if someone swiped them off the table in alarm. Remus raises an intrigued eyebrow, while Logan's upper lip curls. "It seems Dr. Storm has finally learned what helicarrier means. It's a testament to the decline of academia that he's earned one doctorate, let alone three."

"Wait, Virgil--" Thomas's voice comes through clear as he rises in with the microphone. "Hey, calm down, it's just the engine--"

"This thing flies?!" Virgil demands, so incredulously loud that it's as if he were in the bay of the plane himself, "I'm on an air craft carrier that mans over 5,000 people and it fucking flies?!"

His breathing is harsh and ragged and close to the microphone, as if Thomas has placed a hand on his back and is delicately attempting to guide him to sit. At Virgil's tone--panicked instead of snarky--Logan stands rapidly, as if Virgil's lack of control over his breathing is a sign of his sudden lack of ability to control something else.

"There's a reason Dee never invited you to visit," Thomas says sheepishly, "We're probably just meeting them midair. Sit, okay? Joan, put the gun down and go get Virgil a pair of earbuds for the noise."

"I'm not leaving you when he's about to go nuclear on base--"

"He's not going to go nuclear." Thomas says firmly, "And even if he was, violence has never subdued him before, and it won't now. You've read his file. It'll just make things worse."

"I'm in the room you know," Virgil says, voice clenched, "I'm fine--fucking--he doesn't need--I'm not made of glass it was just. A surprise. Another thing to make my day worse. Tell Ackroyd to stand down," Virgil snorts in laughter, but it's shaky, "He's not getting his fight today."

"I don't want a fight," Logan snarls, forcefully sitting back down and responsibility re buckling himself into his seat, "You're a powder keg, Storm. Of course I'm ready for when someone strikes a light."

"Rats," Remus snaps his finger, "You Midgardians owe me a meal but here I thought I was getting a show to go with it for free! The knight in iron armor slays the horrid dragon! Boring, of course, but dear Roman likes to call that shit classic."

"A dragon to be slain?" Roman scoffs, "Midgardians have nothing of the sort, and I doubt one with such an unstained soul as the Captain would associate himself with such a creature. You've already imposed your dreadfulness on these people, Remus, don't go making other demands."

Patton shifts uncomfortably at the comment, but turns his stare down to his intertwined hands, as if he wants to protest, but can't quite bring himself to. Logan looks sour, but doesn't interrupt.

"I've read the laws of this land, Ro," Remus says casually, "They treat prisoners with accommodations as plush as my ass. Why do you think I surrendered to them, and not you?"

"You're a coward--" Roman hisses, leaning down into Remus's face.

"And the God of Bravery!" Remus beams up at him, but there's a sharp, cruel edge to it, as if the irony isn't his alone to share "Ain't it ironic, my oh, so honorable brother? Kill any more diplomats lately?"

Thunder booms as the plane's front glass panes burn white with lightning.

"Stop it, Roman!" Patton snaps, rising to his feet and glaring at both brothers with a sharp ferocity. "Stop rising to his bait already! Plug your ears, sit down, and don't talk to him until we land! I already have one god acting like an overgrown, immortal child, I do not need two!"

"I--" Roman sputters for a second, as if trying to stop himself from declaring he started it in a whiny, childish tone. His reverence for Patton seems to win over, though, because after a moment he steps back from his brother and sits down across the aisle, gaze almost shamefully averted, while Remus stares at him, head titled to the side.

Previous Ask || Rules || Chapter 5 Start || Masterlist || Next Ask

#avengers au #chapter five #Logan sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #Thomas sanders #virgil sanders #patton is the only adult on this plane

[garthnightmare]

One For The Road

In the cold still air of the plaza, a light snow has begun to fall.

And the beat goes on.

It comes from the lighted windows of the hostel off the Rue-De-Saint-Ghislaine, where (to the utmost horror of the patrons) a ragged, paunchy figure has stepped up to the mic. Alcohol has rendered his cheeks the colour of rotting, overripe tomatoes. There is nothing in his eyes.

As the instrumental begins, he lurches drunkenly into a bow before his bemused audience, and slurs, ‘This one…this one’s for alla folks in the audience who’ve lost someone. Someone important. Someone who’s got your back. Someone who,’ he pauses, imbuing the moment with unknown significance, ‘who tastes of… aprico- ‘ The final syllable is lost in a lusty, clogged cough, that forces the man’s body to jerk back and forth, a marionette operated by a madman. He doubles over, briefly, and the patrons eye each other- is one of them going to say something, or will they just let this keep playing out?

A few make to leave, unable to bear it, but others calmly order fresh drinks, curious to watch this car-crash to completion, and the man recovers, gripping the mic stand like a crutch. It seems he’s totally set on humiliating himself tonight.

The manager is earnestly wiping a glass, determined to eschew all responsibility for what is about to take place. He is wishing earnestly he’d never brought the karaoke machine in the first place. He remembers the cheery accent of the bloke who’d sold it to him, saying oh yes, yes, very cool, your place will be the coolest place around, and it’s a cool price too, and the day had been so very hot that he’d allowed himself to be worn down by the oldest trick in the book. Stupid. He considers pulling the plug, shutting it down. He will find himself considering this for quite a few nights to come.

The man wipes his beard with the back of his hand, trying to compose himself. His teeth chatter briefly, a sound like dice clicking on a table-top. He mumbles something under his alcohol-fugged breath the mic doesn’t quite catch.

And then he begins to-

Well, he doesn’t quite sing. Not really. A man in his condition is lucky to make himself understood. But he speaks the words, the words of a song he clearly knows all-too-well, and it’s clear all the alcohol in the world can’t scrub the lyrics from his brain. It’s a sad, droning number, something about a church, an anthem for the moribund and the damned. The patrons pause, oddly disappointed. They were hoping for something more egregious than this.

But then the old broken bastard on the stage throws his head back, really starts to get into it, and all at once-

It’s like his emotions are contagious, and he’s just sneezed all over the crowd. All at once their amusement and concern curdle and sour, begin to plummet down into the very depths of their beings. The first tears come from an old lady in the front, who thinks of the last thing she screamed at her son before he stormed out of her life forever. She wants to hold him, wherever he is, and take it all back. But it’s far too late for that. Far too late to do anything but regret.

Others follow. The man who’s had a row with his lover, about the cigarettes he’s convinced will tear them apart. The old soldier who still remembers the faces of his comrades blown apart by shell-fire. The young woman who just days ago saw something no-one of her age should ever see, something she’ll never unsee, something she can’t tell anyone. One by one, the song tears the scabs off all the old wounds, a flechette bomb detonating in a children’s play-park.

And just like that, a crowd who had been positive and fascinated becomes an army of the terminally depressed. They sit in silence, each pondering the reason they’ve chosen to keep on existing- why it matters. Why it’s worth getting up each day. Why they struggle with all the personal pain they’re forcing themselves through. Why they don’t just hang themselves before they go to bed tonight.

And just- literally just- at the moment when it’s going to get a bit nasty, when someone is going to say the wrong thing, or get up too quickly- that’s when the song abruptly stops.

Because the man can’t make any sound anymore. The alphabet has failed him, and all he has left is a single letter, the first. He repeats it over and over again. The pathetic, racking sobs of a new-born baby.  

It’s at this point that the manager decides to pull the plug.

As his hand goes to the wire- the man on the stage grabs the mic and swings it like a weapon. It sails overhead, smashing into the wall, bringing down a stuffed bird that had hung over the bar in pride of place. A screech of static apes the bird’s dying call, mingling with the retching, racking sobs of the ravaged old drunk.

It’s as if a spell is broken. At once, the patrons come to life, a flurry of startled starlings. Blood has been shed- of a sort.

‘That’s it!’ the manager roars. ‘Get off the stage, now!’

The man is way ahead of him. He charges, suddenly a maddened bull, scattering the crowd before him. They fly back, gasping in fright. Unstoppable, a god of destruction, he smashes out of the doors, into the snow. The manager stares after him, lip twitching, before hurrying to inspect the damage.

In the distance, crows call. A car engine sputters into life. The city turns in its sleep, momentarily disturbed, before settling anew.

In the cold still air of the plaza, a light snow continues to fall.

And the beat goes on.

#disco elysium #fanfiction #writing

[sethhamilton57]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: COPY - Massimo Vignelli Sigaro Pendant Lamp, Blue Venini, 1954.

[alwaysinstitchesco]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 20 Angel Ornaments Vintage Capiz Shell Stained & Blown Glass Porcelain Crystal.

[helloemergencyservices]

Testing screw-in fuses

How plug-in fuses work Plug-in fuses have a metal alloy band inside that carries the current of the circuit. In the event of a short circuit or overload where too much current flows, the tape melts and opens the circuit. When this happens, current can no longer flow and the circuit is disconnected from the power supply. This protects against short circuits and overloads that can damage electrical wiring and cause house fires. When a plug fuse blows due to a circuit overload or short, it is often quite obvious, as the metal fuse element inside the viewing panel is obviously melted through or the glass panel is fogged or burned. If in doubt, however, you can check the fuse with a multimeter. Identify the plug fuse Open the fuse panel door and locate the fuse you want to check. If the panel is properly indexed, you can identify the circuit that lost power by looking at the circuit label. You may notice that the fuse viewing window is fogged or burned. Remove the plug fuse Put on safety glasses to protect yourself from the possible flying sparks that may occur if there is a short circuit or other problem in the electrical panel. Carefully grasp the fuse by the outer ceramic rim and turn it counterclockwise to twist it out of the fuse base. Be careful not to touch any metal parts in the fuse panel when removing the fuse. Safe practices for professional electricians often include using only one hand when unscrewing a fuse, as this reduces the risk of fatal electrocution. Test the fuse Place the fuse on a non-conductive surface, such as a laminate or wooden tabletop. If the needle on the meter moves so that it shows little or no resistance, it means that current is flowing through the fuse and that it is working properly and has not blown. However, if the multimeter reads an infinite (100%) resistance value, it means that no current is flowing and the fuse is blown. Install a new fuse If the fuse is blown, install a replacement fuse that is exactly the same type and amperage as the blown fuse. Never install a fuse with a higher amperage rating, as this could cause the circuit wires to carry more current than they can safely handle.

Call the Emergency Electrician in Dudley. We are available around the clock. Call us now, 01384465898.

#24h service #electrician near me #electrical system #electrician in Dudley

[thebuckblogimo]

He made me a better ad guy.

March 20, 2023

I have lost another close friend. Dave Patton became my trusted sidekick during the early going of the 25 or so years we worked together as creative team partners, mostly at Ross Roy. It was there that co-workers would refer to "Len and Dave" during staff meetings as easily as they might say "bacon and eggs" at breakfast time. When the two of us worked together on something--whether a simple postcard or a full-blown campaign--well, usually it just plain worked. Were it not for Dave, there's no way that this writer's career would have gone as well as it did. Dave turned my jokes into arresting headlines. He gave the stuff I wrote a "look." The truth is, he was the better idea guy, the better concept guy, the truly creative guy on a team of two buds who worked mostly on cars and enjoyed a helluva ride. I collaborated with his family on the following obituary:

Dave Patton August 29, 1944 to March 7, 2023

Dave Patton loved lines. 

He loved the swoopy lines of fat-fendered street rods, the sleek lines of vintage Corvettes. He loved the fine lines of Native American turquoise jewelry. And, oh, how he loved to draw the lines that go into the creation of a successful print ad, direct mail piece or digital communication.

The world lost the consummate advertising design professional—as well as husband, brother, father and grandfather—when Dave Patton, 78, died on March 7, 2023, due to complications from Parkinson’s Disease and Covid in Portage, Michigan.

Dave was a kind and generous soul with a wry wit and sarcastic sense of humor. He loved music and would break into his signature dance moves every time he heard a good song. His love of early rock ‘n' roll, Motown music and patented steps led to an appearance on Club 1270, a dance program for teenagers on WXYZ TV during the early ‘60s.

Dave was born in Detroit on August 29, 1944, to James ("Bud") and Bonney (Babcock) Patton. The young, rambunctious Dave Patton, a kid with a short attention span, was always drawing in class. He won the Senior Award for “Best Artist" at Birmingham Seaholm High School.

As an adolescent, Dave was a fleet-footed running back for Pierce Junior High in Birmingham, which evolved into a lifelong, fanatical love affair with University of Michigan football. He was also a big fan of the Detroit Red Wings and Detroit Tigers. After graduating from Seaholm High in 1963, he enlisted in the Navy and traveled the world aboard the S.S. Garcia. After he returned home from the Navy, he enrolled at the School of the Detroit Society of Arts and Crafts, which would become the Center for Creative Studies.      Dave met his sweetheart, Diane Morrison, at age 16. They wed shortly after his return from the service in 1967 and were married for 56 years. As a devoted father he coached Little League, faithfully attended his children's ice skating and dance lessons, drove the family minivan around the Midwest and Canada for his son’s hockey games, and passed his design genes onto both of his children who create jewelry, hand-blown glass and other forms of art. 

Fine art--paintings, photography, sculptures, metal and ceramic works--were often at the center of the Patton family’s life. Artistic discoveries during travels to New York, Taos, Naples, Fairbanks, Rome and other faraway places resulted in a collection that set the Patton home apart.      Dave's career as an advertising designer and art director began at Meldrum & Fewsmith in Detroit. He then moved to Ross Roy, Michigan’s largest independent advertising agency at the time, where he began working on such accounts as Kmart, Kelsey-Hayes and Federal Mogul. When he started working on the Chrysler account, Dave designed the likes of giant foam-board spark plugs that hung from showroom ceilings and “dimensional mail packages”--communications in tubes and boxes--that dared customers not to open them.      During the early ‘90s he was named co-creative director for automotive direct marketing at Ross Roy, helping to manage a team of writers and art directors who produced all of Chrysler’s owner communications, including four-color magazines, newsletters and direct mail packages that no one in their right mind would describe as “junk mail.”      However, his proudest achievement came during the year he worked on the Gulfstream Aerospace account and designed a nine-part mail program to sell the Gulfstream IV, a $25 million business jet, to the 2,000 known prospects for it in the world. The sale of seven airplanes were attributed to the program. It garnered for Dave and the team who worked on it, a Gold Echo award from the Direct Marketing Association of America.      As his career wound down, Dave worked on Ford at J. Walter Thompson and Mazda at W.B. Doner. A 40-year career in advertising ended with eight years as co-owner of his own “shop,” Bulldog ’n’ Buck Communications. In retirement, Dave expressed his artistic talents by exploring photography, making ceramics and creating illustrations with colored pencils. He and Diane loved to attend art fairs, sparking Dave's interest in creating unique, colorful, abstract pieces of lacquered acrylics on wood--made to look like framed ceramic tiles--which he and Diane sold at art fairs while traveling around Michigan.      Dave is survived by his wife, Diane; children Michael (Katie) and Marci Frederickson (Roy); three grandchildren—Brett, Megan and Ziggy Moon; and sister Linda Patton (Arnold). His family and close friends will remember Dave as the creative, strong, supportive rock of the family who never turned down a dessert in his life. Those who worked with him will remember Dave Patton for his extraordinary design talent and the fact that he didn’t suffer fools.

A Celebration of Life is being planned for friends and family on August 9, 2023, at Wind + James, 555 E. Eliza St., Schoolcraft, MI 49087. In lieu of flowers, contributions can be made to the Michigan Parkinson's Foundation (parkinsonsmi.org (http://parkinsonsmi.org/)

[brownleathercologne]

[ohrlighting]

How to light a room with no overhead ceiling Lighting

A vital aspect of a splendid home is its optimum lighting which not only brightens up the decor but also positively uplifts your mood. If you have recently moved into your new home and there are no overhead ceiling lights, or you have spent several years in your current home without these ceiling lights, only to realize a vital aspect of alluring ambiance has always been missing. But installing new ceiling lights is not only expensive but also requires extensive work that too by a professional team. Therefore, it is more practical to install different types of lights, such as pendant chandelier lighting or any option that not only facilitates the decor but also beautifully illuminates your living space. You can make this upgrade with the help of professionals who can install great lighting and transform your home or a specific room whose style needs augmentation.

Best Lighting Options to Illuminate your Home and Life

If you are not entirely sure what type of lighting addition can make up for the absence of an overhead ceiling light, then you can opt for one of the options available in the pendant lighting sections.

You can get a removable ceiling pendant light plugged into an overhead outlet by installing a hook to a ceiling and custom pendant lighting.

·    Mod Collection has exquisitely designed glass orbs with a mid-century design and subtle lighting that creates speckled shadows on the walls.

·    Tamar Hand Blown Glass Chandelier Pendant Light is made of translucent cylinders with molten glass coils that softly cast subtle shadows, creating a relaxing ambiance.

·    CH7H078RB20-UP4 Inverted Pendant is a farmhouse-styled ironclad ceiling light with a vintage bronze finish designed with sleek curves quite fit for a modern dining room.

·    Kadur Drizzle Pendant is an exquisite hand-blown custom glass pendant light that flaunts a luxurious and elegant design that can boost the décor of any room these are installed.

·    Modern Led Chandelier crystal raindrop has a fabulous design that is suitable for any of the rooms in a home and the office, as it exhibits a simple yet elegant design.

Ameliorate and Uplift Your Home's Ambiance

A room without an overhead ceiling is not the end of the world. OHR Lighting can provide infinite stunning options to transform your Miami home's single space or entire premises. From glass ceiling pendant lights to Modern dining room hanging lights and everything in between, many illuminating options will uplift the ambiance and décor of your home. You can also opt for custom designs to match your home's aesthetics. OHR Lighting team will also create a 3D design sketch to assess better your home's space where the stunning lights have to be installed. So, start dreaming and designing your house by calling [phone] or dropping an email at [email protected].

Visit us for more information and check out the stunning lights that your home needs.

The Blog “ How to light a room with no overhead ceiling Lighting ” was originally posted HERE

#Modern Dining Room Pendant Lighting Miami #Led Pendant Chandelier Miami #Custom Pendant Lighting #Modern Dining Room Hanging Lights Miami #Pendant Lighting Miami #Pendant Chandelier Lighting #Contemporary Kitchen Pendant Lighting Miami

[shiesty2fiesty]

My Gorg nails n bong

#me #420 #baby milo #y2k #hand blown glass plug #fly #hello kitty #nail art

[ananabilos]

la luz está loca

#35mm film #film photography #film photographer #35mm photography #35mm #35mm format #hand blown glass plug #shine #feet #reflex #sun #reflection #photo #photography