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thap1nkblog · 1 year

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[*𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐓!]

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[*𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄!]

❝ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄 ❞

❝he's been staring at you since you brought that bottle over to him and his lil' friend. seems like he likes you.❞

❝𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬.❞

❝i guess? bitch, your pussy broke or something?❞

❝maybe...she's just interested in somebody else.❞

❝𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐢, 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩!❞

Money fluttered down from the sky in bursts of green and blue dollar bills, blanketing the people below in a rainbow hue of colors as bright lights strobed across the club. The sweet scent of perfume, mixed in with the thick, masking scent of lemon and citrus, smoke wafting from hookah machines scattered across the club. The crowd seemed to double, almost triple in size from the moment I got here, patrons buzzing with anticipation, almost bursting at the seams with excitement. The atmosphere tonight was filled with sexual tension, fueled only by strong double shots of alcohol and loud music that filled the four walls of Club Crystal.

Bottle girls rushed past me to serve eager, intoxicated customers, almost sprinting across the club as they balanced gigantic bottles of alcohol topped off with sparklers in their hands.

Fancy danced on stage, performing acrobatic, concise movements as she spun around the pole, captivating her adoring audience below her. Money covered the floor of the stage around her in a sea of green - her tassel, silver platform heels stepping over the dollar bills with ease. Hands reached out for her, desperate, begging for a chance to touch her rich, chocolate skin, pulling at the baby pink straps of her outfit.

Humming along to the 21 Savage song that radiated throughout the club, I weaved through the dense crowd of people as I made a beeline to the bar.

Men that passed by me grasped at my hands, some handing me singular bills - others laying on thick, not so subtle compliments, thinly veiled as offers for sex. Others offered me an "escape" from the club, sprouting off nonsense about how I didn't belong here, how I deserved to be a housewife - a lot of which just sounded like unnecessary white noise, almost like television static as it filtered in one ear and out of the other.

At the far end of the bar, Mimi was consumed in a conversation with Club Crystal's newest bartender, Justin. Leaning over the counter as she talked to him, Justin rinsed out glasses and dried them with the rag in his hand. Mimi flipped long, curly inches over her shoulder as she reached her hand out, pushing her breasts up as she touched his long, blonde-tipped dreads that fell across his chest. I couldn't tell what they were talking about, but judging from how Justin stepped just a little closer, his eyes unable to focus on the two beautiful views in his face - Mimi's eyes and her breasts that poked out from her revealing one piece.

"Poor Justin, he don't even know Mimi is going to chew him up and spit him out," Giselle snickered, finishing up with a customer at the bar before sliding down to me. Without me asking, she readied me a glass of water, one hand squeezing the juice from two evenly cut lemon slices while her other hand dropped a slim, black straw down the center of the glass.

"That bitch just can't help it, I swear."

Feeling Fancy's arm draped around my shoulder, she leaned on me for support as she steadied herself in her heels. She smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, and I could feel the thin layer of sweat on her body, along with the fast paced, racing thump of her heartbeat. Her baby blue and white holographic platforms reflected and bounced off the strobing lights overhead, and Fancy adjusted the straps of her thin, dark blue bikini as she sat down, Giselle sliding over a shot of D'usse in her direction.

"I just can't believe it keeps happening," I sipped my water, the three of us watching in awe as Justin only moved closer to Mimi, our eyes glued to the scene that unfolded in front of us.

Giselle was one of our newest bartenders too - only she had been here three months longer than Justin, and three months longer than any other male bartender we seemed to hire. And in that short time frame, we've seen Mimi go through just about every male bartender that seemed to walk through these double doors. There was Malik, Christopher, Tyson - one named Shamar who had blonde hair and three face tattoos - Cory, who I remember wouldn't let any of us forget that he was from Chicago - and now Justin. Crazy part was, those were the only ones I could remember off the top of my head. I'm sure if I kept counting, I'd have to use both hands and all ten of my toes, too.

And it wasn't like they didn't know - I'd seen Giselle go out of her way to warn them, but her words would only go in one ear and out of the other as soon as they saw Mimi approaching with her dimpled smile, curves, and flower tattoos. She was nothing more than walking temptation to them, luring unsuspecting - and horny as hell - men who actually knew better. I couldn't lie - part of me felt bad for them - but that pity quickly vanished when I realized they were willing participants in whatever game she wanted to play. It was nothing more than that - a game - and sometimes they thought they could play it better than the stripper who had seen ten men just like them in the span of twenty minutes.

"She need to be banned from the bar," Fancy chimed in, shaking her head. She took a sip from my water glass, leaving a glossy imprint of her lips on the opposite side of my glass. I knew she was joking, but there was a hint of underlying seriousness in her voice, "If we go through anymore bartenders, we're gonna have to start hiring the crackheads on the street."

"You sure Mimi wouldn't fuck a crackhead?" Giselle questioned, tilting her head at us, refilling my glass and pouring another shot for Fancy.

"If it had dreads and ate pussy, I can't say she wouldn't."

Tossing back the shot, the three of us started to laugh. My cheeks ballooned as I tried to swallow the water in my mouth before it dribbled out, our eyes glued to the next arc of our free television show. Between Kiki's overzealous and dramatic stories she sprouted off in the locker room, and Mimi's ever increasing list of victims, nothing was ever dull here. I could feel the tension and anticipation that radiated from us as we watched Justin come around from the end of the bar, looking across the club from a manager or supervisor as Mimi took his hand. Our heads followed them as they walked past us, Mimi winking at us as she led him in the direction of the private rooms, Justin hot on her heels like a lost puppy.

"Well, Mimi knows what she wants," I shrugged, "And she certainly gets it."

Giselle parted ways with us to go attend to some customers that slid up to the bar, a group of girls who were already intoxicated. I could hear their voices over the music as they talked over one another, telling Giselle that they were celebrating one of their birthdays, and their drink orders all at once. Fancy told me that she was going to freshen up before her next dance, leaving by myself to scope out any potential customers for tonight.

Fancy called it the "Stripper-Solar".

As long as you knew what you were looking for, it was easy to find the best opportunities to make your money. Appearances were everything here - but the ideal guy gave off the aura of money. You wanted them not too flashy and out there - nine out of ten times that meant that they were overcompensating for a lack of funds in their wallet. You couldn't let the big, glittering chains and diamond watches fool you - a lot of those men were stingy with their money and most of the time wanted something "extra" for their attention. And you didn't want them too open, either. Those were the desperate, greedy types. You wanted someone who looked like they just wanted a good time, and nothing more than that.

"Oh my god Yaya, I'm so glad you're here."

Walking into my eyesight was Charm, one of the newest bottle girls the club hired recently. Even though she was twenty-one, her baby face and chubby cheeks made her look way younger.

"Could you do me a favor?" She asked, swaying from side to side as she held a slender, amber colored bottle of Don Julio in her hand. Her knees were practically about to cave in, and her face was scrunched up with discomfort, sloshing around the liquid in the bottle with her movements. She barely gave me a chance to respond before she continued, shoving the bottle into my hands, "Can you please go deliver this bottle to table eleven? I have to pee so fucking bad."

"Uh-"

"You're the best. Thanks Yaya!"

Charm rushed past me, hurrying in the direction of the bathroom, disappearing into the crowd.

Sighing, I looked down at the bottle of overpriced alcohol, my eyes drifting up to the VIP section of the club, which stretched high into the ceiling. At the club, there were two sets of table sections. The first section was seated on the ground floor, where you had a closer view of the stage and proximity to the bar. The tables and chairs were closely packed together, so you'd have to weave between dancers and people getting lap dances to get to your table. They weren't expensive seats - so you definitely got what you paid for.

And if you were willing to spend a bit more, a pretty penny to enjoy your night - you were seated in the balcony section on the second floor. All the big spenders and folks with money lounged up there, and you'd be rubbing shoulders with football and basketball players, rappers, and all kinds of celebrities who reserved their own tables. The balcony overlooked the stage and the rest of the club, giving you a birds eye view of everything that was going on below you. It was private, secluded, and when people threw money from the balcony, it rained throughout the club like storm clouds.

The music only grew louder as I approached the stairs, and I could feel the vibrations from the loud bass of a familiar Drake song as my hand slid along the black, metal railing. I planted my feet firmly as I walked up the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief when I reached the top, adjusting my sweaty hand around the neck of the bottle. I had been up those stairs plenty of times back when I was a bottle girl, but it felt entirely different now. Especially with the amount of eyes that lingered on me as I walked past each table, other bottle girls sliding by me to get back down the stairs as they attended to their tables.

Table eleven was at the far end of the balcony, tucked off in the corner, obscured by the view of the same girls from the bar earlier toasting drinks as one of the dancers danced on the table in front of them.

"Hi, did you guys order a bottle of Don Julio?"

"Damn, since when did bottle girls start dressing like you?"

The two men occupying the black couches cut their conversation short when they realized I was standing in front of them. Both of them were well dressed, while the one that spoke was dressed in a white collared shirt with gold chains that dangled from around his neck. A blunt was nestled between his thumb and index finger, filling the slightly intimate space with the smell of earthy herbs. He leaned forward, tapping his blunt against the side of the ashtray, staring me up and down as a smile made its way across his face. I couldn't help but inwardly cringe as he started to get up, only interrupted by his friend who leaned over to take the bottle from me.

"I'm sorry about my friend," he apologized, he smiled, "He still hasn't figured out that not everything he thinks needs to be said all the time."

Our hands touched as he wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle below my hand, his other hand supporting the bottom of the slender, cold glass. Soft, hazel green eyes stared back into mine as he held our eye contact, tattoos decorating his face symmetrically. For some reason, he looked familiar - but I couldn't figure out exactly where I remembered him from. I figured I had seen him in passing at the club, feeling like maybe I had given him a dance before. His appearance stood out definitely, but after a while, all the men here started to look the same in one way or another.

"It's fine," I replied, my hand slipping from around the neck of the bottle, "I'm used to it."

For a moment, his eyes flickered to my outfit, analyzing the white, sheer netting that clung to my body. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, over the rings pierced into the corners of his lips, dragging up to meet my eyes again. I'm sure he didn't mean to, but his subtle scrutiny suddenly made me self conscious, my eyes falling from his almost immediately. His voice was low and baritone, and he leaned closer, speaking clearly over the music. The sound of his voice vibrated in my ears, leaving a lingering rumble in my ear drums, "Still, my friend's an asshole."

"I-It's fine," I reassured him, stepping back. "I hope you guys enjoy it."

"We will, don't worry your pretty little head, mama!"

Leaving their table, I headed back down the stairs, looking over my shoulder as I could still feel the two of them watching me from afar. I shook it off, trying to clear my mind, the sight of Mimi twirling around the pole being a welcomed distraction. Her movements were graceful - a shimmery, black, tiny monokini leaving little to the imagination as the material sparkled in the spotlight that steadied on her. Money rained down over the railing, falling over her and onto the stage as she spread her legs open, gliding down to the stage floor smoothly. From the pattern in her movements, I could recognize that she was coming to the end of her second song, which meant that my turn was quickly approaching.

"You're such a lifesaver!"

Charm greeted me at the bottom of the stairs, clasping her hands together.

I shrugged, "It's no problem. Don't forget to make sure they pay for that."

"Totally."

As Mimi's third song drew to a close, I could feel those pre-dance jitters rise up in my stomach. Even though I had been dancing full time for almost eight months, I still hadn't been able to shake the nerves that came along with it. Fancy told me that I'd get over them eventually, but they only seemed to grow in intensity until sometimes, I was full on trembling in my heels. The whole thing just made me nervous, and even though I knew what to expect and knew that I would be fine, it was like I couldn't help the anxiousness that radiated throughout my body. It made my palms sweaty, and my body run hot. And the more my brain seemed intent on focusing on it, the worse the feeling got, up until I felt like I almost couldn't breathe.

I needed some fresh air, and retreating to the locker room was my best bet.

I still had time before I had to get on stage. In between dances they bagged up each dancer's money, and depending on how much was thrown, it took a few minutes. In the time it took them to clean everything up, I could refresh my makeup, give one more pass over my hair, and breathe somewhere quiet that wasn't filled with smoke.

"Shit!"

Nearly sweeping me clean off my feet was a man who bumped into me, too drunk to see where he was going. I closed my eyes, bracing for impact as I could feel the wind get knocked out of my chest, anticipating an embarrassing and harsh tumble to the ground - but a strong arm wrapped around me, catching me moments before I hit the floor. Whoever it was held me suspended me in their hold, fully supporting my weight, and when I opened my eyes I recognized him as the guy from table eleven. His head was turned to the side, yelling at the drunk man who staggered past the two of us, his jaw clenched.

"You ain't fucking see her?"

My hands rested against the soft, terry cloth material of his pale green polo shirt, tattoos fully covering every inch of his neck that peeked out from around his collar. Realizing that he was still holding me, he slowly lifted me up, my hair swinging against my hips as he planted me on both feet. He asked if I was okay, his arm snaking from around my waist, careful to avoid touching me inappropriately.

I ran my hands through my hair, tossing it over my shoulder and adjusting my dress, pulling it up over my breasts, which only made it begin to ride up over my thighs. "Thank you," I breathed, placing my hand over my heart, "These niggas don't watch where they're going sometimes.."

"These niggas can't hold their drinks, that's all," he attempted to reassure me, his eyes scanning my face. I could tell he was trying to gauge if I was as okay as I had said, but I was almost a hundred percent sure I didn't look the part.

He lingered in front of me, towering over me even in my heels. I was finally able to get a good look at him, yet I still couldn't remember where I recognized him from. He was handsome - dark skin amongst the tattoos that neatly covered his exposed skin, intricate patterns and lines shooting off in all directions across his skin, even down to his palms. We were standing so close, I could smell his cologne, the light scent of green apple and mint dancing across my senses - a subtle intimidating energy radiating off from him.

As nice as his gesture was, I hope he didn't think I was going to strike up some meaningless conversation with him because of it.

"Did you want something?" I asked him, staring up into his eyes. My voice came off harsher than normal, my nerves only worsened by my near tumble and the anxiety that bubbled in my stomach. It slowly made its way up to my chest, making itself home at the bottom of my throat. My heart still raced in my chest - not as fast as before, but still thumping away, pumping almost loud enough that I swore I could hear it in my ears.

"Yeah, actually," my "savior" cleared his throat, like he was anticipating for my response to be different, "I wanted to get a dance from you." He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket, the money wrapped tightly with a rubber band. "A private one," he emphasized, gesturing in the direction of the private rooms behind me. "I can make it real sweet for you."

"I don't-"

"Yaya!"

Instinctively looking over my shoulder behind me, I recognized the familiar pitch of Andre's voice.

Even over the loud, slightly obnoxious beat from the song playing at the moment, I could hear him damn near clear as day.

Approaching from the entrance of the club, his eyes were focused on me as he wandered away from his friends, a toothy smile spreading across his face. Dressed in a Palm Angels wool-blend, green bomber jacket and white shirt, a shimmering diamond chain hung around from his neck, spelling out his nickname in bold letters. A black, duffle bag hung off his shoulder, while white Valentino sneakers crushed dollar bills beneath gray soles. He stepped in front of me, the faint scent of weed and Burberry cologne gently blanketing his jacket, the smell slowly surrounding the two of us.

"Hey Ant," I found myself smiling, the nerves that churned in my stomach subtly subsiding for a brief moment.

Licking his bottom lip, he tilted his head to the side, "I was hoping I didn't miss your pretty self dance yet."

I playfully rolled my eyes, "You say that like you don't already know what time I go on. You're a little early tonight, you know?"

"You ain't see that we were in the middle of something?"

Unmoving from his position was the man from before, still waiting for my answer about a dance. He put his hand on Andre's shoulder, which made Andre turn slightly in his direction. Ant paused for a moment, eyeing him up and down before pushing his hand off his shoulder, a smirk weaving its way across his features. I could see that familiar flicker of amusement that flushed Andre's eyes, who briefly glanced at me before back to the man before him.

"Oh, I know," Andre raised his eyebrows, "But it don't look like you were talking about much, honestly. What - you get you a lil section and now you ready to ball out for the night?"

"You talking a lot of shit for a nigga who don't know me."

"And I'll keep talking," Andre stepped fully in front of me, turning his back to me as he sized the man up again, narrowing his eyes, "She's good for the night, nigga. Go find someone else to bother, okay?"

I could both see and feel the disdain and tension that rose between the two of them - and so could a few others who watched the two of them, ready with their phones in hand in case anything decided to happen. At the bar, Giselle watched things closely, drying glasses with a rag in her hand - while a security guard stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, itching for something, anything to happen, ready and willing to throw the both of them out. Kiki eyed all three of us as she gave a lap dance close by, focusing more on us than the man beneath her, who looked like he was starting to get annoyed with her lack of actual dancing.

"And who are you? You don't intimidate me, nigga."

Seeing Andre's jaw clench, I pulled at his arm, grabbing his attention. I could see his shoulders tense, and I pulled him back harder, attempting to defuse the situation before it ballooned into something completely else. It was making me nervous, and everything seemed to lull into a standstill as they stared each other down, the other man seemingly itching, waiting for Ant to say the wrong thing. And knowing Andre - he wasn't about to let someone just talk to him any kind of way - even if he did start it.

And I wasn't about to let Andre star in a two man, testosterone filled, alcohol fueled show for everybody to see - especially his sister.

"Andre, come on," I wrapped my hand around his wrist, pulling him back, "Let it go. It's not that serious."

Looking at me over his shoulder, he rolled his eyes, relaxing his shoulders. Tossing his hands up, he stepped back, "My bad, bruh," he told him, "You got it."

Without another word, the man walked off, leaving Andre and I to ourselves. People returned back to their own business, filling themselves with drinks and food from the kitchen, while they let money slip between their fingertips.

"Now was that necessary?" I asked Andre when he turned to me, wiping the satisfied grin off his face. I crossed my arms over my chest, my hair falling off my shoulders, the ends of my long weave dusting against my lower back.

"Don't act like you were finna give that nigga even a millisecond of your time," he spoke, smirking, swiping his finger underneath my chin. He was right - I wasn't - but I didn't like things like that. Especially when I knew he was better than some cheap display of his ego. I didn't think it was funny.

Sighing at my unamused face, he uncrossed my arms, holding onto my hands. "I'm sorry," he told me, staring down into my eyes, chocolate, dark brown eyes peering back into my own. "I already know what you're thinking - and I know you don't like shit like that."

"You're right," I confirmed, attempting to stand my ground in front of him.

"Besides, I came in here to pay your rent tonight," he smiled, "And whatever any of these niggas think they throwing, I'll double that shit."

I bit my lip, trying to hide the smile that poked at the corners of my lips. Overhead, I heard them calling for me on the speaker, letting me know it was my time to dance. I pulled my hands away from Andre's, noticing how relaxed and calm I felt at the moment, all of the nerves that were just running haywire throughout my body subsiding. I could feel myself blushing the longer we stood this close together, and I shook it off, tossing my shoulders back as I pushed those thoughts to the back of my head.

"Stop flirting with me," I told him, shaking my head.

"Come on. You know you like it."

#＊❝check the pen❞#ue!newreleases.#*wakedafuckup!#*...bubbling under #*...d-digital dash #[⇪] new upload

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astoldbychae · 1 year

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Dinner, Drinks, & Deep Conversation

. . . well, at least until that D'usse starts to kick in and he starts whispering sweet-somethings in her ear.

Alexa, gon' head & play Chris Brown "To My Bed"... 👀

#Something You Forgot #ts4 story #blacksimmer #ts4gameplay #oc: aura matthews #oc: ramone sollitto

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blackelysian · 1 year

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tease

Nico's POV

I lean back against the counter with half a cup of D'usse. I was watching my drunk girlfriend, Hazel act like a damn fool on the dance floor right now. We came to my boy's crib for a slight kickback he was throwing for his birthday. I was already kinda blown because Hazel and I got into it before we got here about wtf she was wearing.

Not only was she wearing some revealing ass dress but she was now flirting with some lame ass nigga. She was all in that nigga face playing in her hair and everything. She knew exactly what she was doing too. She was tryna make me mad. She loved to test me. I instantly knocked back whatever was left in my cup and made my way over to them.

I shove the lame nigga away from her, snatch her arm and drag her out the party towards the car. I press her against the car door and stand in her face.

"What the fuck is up with you yo?!?" I say slightly, raising my voice at her.

"What are you talking about Nico?" She said, smirking, slurring her words.

"Don't play dumb bro you know exactly what you were doing" I said getting madder by the second.

"Fuck you all in that nigga face for? You love doing that shit its like it turns you on when i'm mad"

"I'm just trying to have a good time Nico." she says with a sly grin on her face. She does this shit on purpose. She knows it drives me crazy.

"No, your trying to show tf off but its okay ima give you exactly what you asking for" I say through gritted teeth. I clench my jaw as I step closer to her face and grabbed her neck with my right hand and she gasps. Her pretty brown eyes stared into mine drunkenly yet they were filled with so much lust and adoration. She looked so innocent and seductive at the same time which always seems to arouse me. I bit my lip softly, placing my left pointer finger onto her plump bottom lip and used my thumb to pull at it. I applied a bit of pressure on her neck with my right hand before I released her out of my grip. I could feel the heat radiating from her body and her breath started to quicken.

"Get in the car." I told her, slowly backing away from her, walking to the drivers side of the car and getting in, her stumbling in next to me.

Hazel's POV

Silence took over the car. All you could hear was the faint music from the radio and the loud ass thud of my heartbeat. I can see Nico gripping the wheel tight as he rushes to get us home. I was still a bit drunk and was starting to get hungry since he drug me out of the party before I could even get any free food.

"Can we get some food?" I asked, grabbing his arm as he drove. He shot me a harsh glare as he shrugged me off of him, before returning his eyes to the road, ignoring me. His look sent a chill down my spine making me stay silent for the rest of the ride home. I knew that look.

Once we got back home, I made a beeline for the stairs but he quickly grabbed my arm.

"Hazel, stop playing wit me" He said, bass clear in his voice, his eyes glaring down at me lustfully as he walked me backwards towards the couch. He grips my neck, biting his lip, pulling me in closer to him. My panties instantly got soaked but I knew I was soon about to be punished from my actions of tonight.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I wanna go to bed, I'm tired." I whined.

"Nah, I don't wanna hear that shit" He roughly turns me around and bends me over the arm of the couch causing my dress to rise up over my ass. He brings a loud smack to my ass. A moan accidently slips out of my mouth. His fingers hook my panties and pull them down to the floor. He kneels down behind me, bringing a smack to both cheeks.

Coming face to face with my womanhood, he begins to place butterfly kisses up and down my slit.

"Ba– ooo" I moaned out, caught completely off guard.

Omniscient POV

He begins to devour her. He was going to make her eat her words. Her low, sexy moans begin to fill his ears like music. She tasted so sweet to him. He replaces his mouth with two fingers and begins to finger her deeply.

"Ooo fuck.." She moans out as her head lolls forward. He watched her mesmerized as her juices began to soak and coat his fingers. A bulge forming in his pants.

"Mmm... baby you're gonna make me cum" She moans out faintly. " Hold dat shit" He quickly retracts his fingers. She lets out a slight whimper, already missing the feeling of his fingers. He delivers another loud smack to her ass. She bites her lip to keep from moaning loudly. He turns her around by her neck, kissing her deeply.

"Upstairs, now." He demands, looking lustfully into her eyes. She turns around and slowly makes her way upstairs, making sure to add a little extra switch in her walk. He watches her with his bottom lip wedged between his teeth and lust filled eyes. He makes his way up the stairs behind her, catching her now removed dress that she has thrown at him in the process. After making it to the room, he gently throws her on the bed.

"All fours" He slides down his pants and boxers and slowly starts stroking himself. She crawls to the top of the bed and places a deep arch in her back just how he likes it. She starts twerking her ass, giving him a clear view of her glistening fold.

"Like this?" She says lowly, looking back at him. He walks up behind her grabbing her waist in one hand, still stroking himself with the other.

"You know im about to fuck you up right?" He grumbles sliding inside her, beginning to give her rough strokes. Her mouth forms an O shape as she throws her head forward gripping the sheets. His strokes become more vicious as he picks his speed up, their hips crashing together. The only thing that could be heard in the room are the clapping sounds from slamming against him.

"Fuckk...too much" she groans out as her hand flys back to his waist. He grabs her arm and pins it behind her back. He hikes up his right leg, placing both hands on her waist, aiming directly for her spot.

"Ain't this what you wanted?" he asks, smirking down at her.

"All that teasing and shit...you like being fucked this way" He continues to deliver deep rough strokes. SMACK! Another slap to her ass. Her juices were just running down both of their legs as he continued to break her down.

"Don't you?" He slightly yells, grabbing her hair, pulling her head back.

"Yesssss" she cries out. He grins slyly.

"Yes what?" He says assertively, now releasing her hair and wrapping his fingers around her neck.

"Yesss, daddy" she says through gritted teeth, her eyes scrunched closed.

"Look at me" Her eyes snap open, looking at her upside down lover. He grabs her right leg and wraps it around his waist, dropping his right leg.

"Think another nigga goin fuck you this good?" He asks, showing her no mercy, giving her nonstop strokes. She couldn't answer. All that escaped her mouth were weak moans. SMACK!

"Answer me" he groans out angrily.

"Noooo"

"Mmmm you love this dick don't you?" He asks, smirking at her.

"Yesss baby yesss, I love you and this dick" She moans out, tears of pleasure streaming down her face.

"Mhmm, thats right." He groans, running his hands down her back. He adored her.

"Im cummingggg daddyyy"

"Cum on this dick babygirl" He moans out as she finishes, completely making a mess. He finishes shortly after, completely filling her up. He slowed his strokes down, riding out both of their orgasms. She falls out on the bed on her back, totally worn out. He grabs her neck, bringing her close to his face kissing her.

"Get on top" He says, sitting down on the bed, leaning back stroking himself.

"Baby I'm tired" she whines, turning to look at him.

"What I say?" he asks assertively, grabbing her arm, pulling her on top of him. He puts his left hand on her waist and aligns himself with her entrance. She eases herself down onto him slowly, but not all the way. Too slow for his liking he pushes her all the way down on him.

"Come on baby, ride that shit" He groans lowly, smacking her ass again for the upteenth time tonight. Her cheeks were red with his giant hand print across both cheeks. She places her hands on his chest and begins bouncing up and down on him, getting into her own little rhythm.

"Shitt... just like that baby" he sighed, placing one of his hands behind his head and the other on her waist. She picks up her speed as she throws her head back, enjoying the sensation.

"Fuckkk... Nico" she whispers in complete bliss.

"Mhmm, ride that dick baby" He groans lowly, smacking her ass again. He props himself up on his knees and wraps her legs around him. She locks her arms around his neck as they meet in the middle for a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues fighting each other for dominance. Her hips crashing into his lap. He trails open mouthed kisses down her neck leading in between her breasts. Her hand rubs the back of his head as he kisses her body.

"Baby..." He whispers, looking down at the mess they were making, in a trance like it was a movie.

"Pussy wet as fuck.. No nigga goin' get her as wet as me" He thought to himself. He reaches his left hand up and grabs the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him, driving into her from underneath.

"Shit shit shit, im gonna cum" She pants.

"Give it to me baby" He says through gritted teeth, egging on her orgasm. And just like that, she finishes completely making a mess on his lap. He finishes shortly after.

"Damn girl" he says before pecking her lips. She just lays there on top of him, exhausted and ready to fall asleep.

"You goin stop playing with me?" He asks, looking at her.

"You goin get me some food? Since you starved me to prove your point." She playfully rolls her eyes. He chuckles deeply.

"Yea I gotchu baby. Take a shower with me then i'll feed you whatever you want" He says getting up, scooping her in his arms in the process, carrying her to the bathroom.

#fanfiction #black reader #blackelysian #luke james x black!reader #black stories

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aloneinstitute · 2 years

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🏰 Chateau d'Usse, Vale do Loire, França 🇫🇷

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xltribe · 1 month

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Atlanta Black Restaurant Week Nosh Culinary Show Black restaurant week decided to expand its culinary series to Atlanta this year. [bctt tweet="XL Tribe had the pleasure of joining the inaugural year as one of the Bloggers covering the event." username="xltribe"] ABOUT BLACK RESTAURANT WEEK, LLC Black Restaurant Week, LLC is committed to the education and awareness of the Black Culinary Industry in the United States of America. Using a combination model of awareness and education event, Black Restaurant Week will stimulate the growth of African American owned culinary businesses and farms across the United States. To achieve its mission of growth in the culinary industry, Black Restaurant Week aims to create experiences that will cater to a diverse culture of tastemakers, professionals and are foodies looking for exposure to delicious food and exquisite wines When we arrived at the venue there were 12 different caterers, restaurants and dessert makers in the building. In true fashion, I had to try them all. Follow me along as I show you guys all the different foods and drinks I had the chance to eat. PS. They had D'usse and I tried it and love it.

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desdiamond · 4 months

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#music #faded off the dusse what did u say

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opinion247 · 1 year

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Brandy VS Congnac: Know The Difference - By Egungwu C. Benjamin

In this short piece we will be discussing on the difference between brandy and cognac. Some people experience difficulty in differentiating between both.

Just like champagne and sparkling wine, every cognac can be called brandy, but not all brandy can be referred to as a cognac.

What is brandy?

Brandy is a general name for a distilled spirit made from fermented fruit juice. It can be produced using fruit such as grapes, apples etc. brandy can be made in any country.

They are brownish in colour, sweet and it's alcohol level is usually from 35% to 60%, most have 40% alcohol level.

Now What is cognac?

Cognac is brandy produced in the Cognac region of France, (Charente and Charente-Maritime départements of France ).

This entails that any brandy which isn't made in France cannot be legally referred to as a cognac. Just like any sparkling wine that isn't made in the champagne region of France cannot be referred to as a champagne.

Example of cognacs are; Hennessy, Rémy Martin, Hennessy, Courvoisier, D'usse, Camus, Abk etc.

Cognacs are usually differentiated with Acronyms like V.S , V. S.O.P and X.O etc engraved on the bottle or packs, considering how aged it is. The older the wine, the better the taste and expensive it will be.

Let me explain the acronyms and what they stand for.

VS - meaning 'Very Special', this brandy/Cognac are aged for at least 2 years in French oak.

•V.S.O.P. - 'Very Superior Old Pale' or 'Very Special Old Pale', it must be aged at least four years in an oak.

X.O - stands for 'Extra Old' aged at least six years in french oak. They are more expensive.

NB: Another type of brandy from France is 'Armagnac' which is made from 10 different grape varieties, unlike Cognac that is made from the Ugni Blanc grape only.

In Conclusion, I think the french decided to carve out another name for their products to make theirs unique, and to show the superiority of their product above others made in other countries.

#black art #drinks #food and drink #brandy #cognac #wine #winelover #alcohol markers #france news #nigeria news

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quickgmart · 1 year

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Convenience Store North Las Vegas

youtube

When it comes to finding the perfect beverage to satisfy your needs, our Convenience Store North Las Vegas has a range of choices. With our wide selection of high-quality drinks, Quick Grocery Mart offers numerous benefits to shoppers.

Official Website : https://quickgmart.com

Quick Grocery Mart & Liquor Address: 1445 W Alexander Rd # 100, North Las Vegas, NV 89032, United States Phone: +17026491007

Find Us on Google Maps: http://goo.gl/maps/2cGUaFtB1xPrK9sXA

Google Business Site: https://quick-grocery-mart-liquor.business.site/

Our Blog: https://quickgmart.tumblr.com/

Next Video: https://bit.ly/3LtYlzn

#Convenience Store North Las Vegas #Alcohol North Las Vegas #Remy Martin VSOP North Las Vegas #D'Usse Xo Cognac Las Vegas #Hennessy XO Ice

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cafonazzo · 7 months

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SOGGETTO LYRICS 2 / 2

wishxanny wish fai presto, ho finito il gas bro wish fai presto, sta finendo l'X bro Charles Manson, sono bello preso preso un pacco ma non chiedo il reso quest'Inverno mi sveglio all'inferno faccio affari con il Padre Eterno Issey Miyake costa un palo e mezzo prendo un palo e dopo lo spendo woah mi si chiudono gli occhi ma son sempre sveglio bastardo ha il naso rotto non ha preso un destro salto sulla base dopo mi destreggio a volte alzo soldi per farti uno sfreggio di che mi sballo oggi? la metto a sorteggio questo non è niente aspetto ancora il peggio addosso c'ho designer certo che m'atteggio "smettete di copiarmi" questo è il mio appello sono un VIP entro dalla backdoor tu vendi il culo come una escort nuova giacca di Moncler, mi calza a pennello li sto alzando dal PC come gli Esports [...]

style libero x soda fa le bollicine e canta un jingle, Bubblè sono off dai Radar, non mi trovi Saddam Hussein ne ho fumate 13, nonstop, Freddy Krueger smetti di far musica ti prego non hai scuse incontro con i top player a porte chiuse WIshxanny dentro al backseat sta rollando, d'usse pillola color rosso passione mi seduce muoio su una croce al contrario come il duce bevo 10 birre sono in piena come un fiume sono spesso e volentieri in situazione brutte vecchio sporco bastardo ma non canto dentro ai Wu tang vesto tutto bianco e nero ma non tifo juve tu vuoi un feat con me attieniti alle procedure caso chiuso, senza prove cadono le accuse non vedo persone mo vedo solo figure vedo colori nuovi, + 50 sfumature maria de flippi, cazzo apri quelle buste dico solo cose strane, stranamente giuse sto fumando loud, sto alzando il volume faccio un parcheggio a S ma sbaglio le misure [...]

roma kapitale sono a roma kapitale mi sto cappottando voglio un quarto di milli solo sul mio braccio sto vestendo nero ma non sono un fascio minchia sono troppo forte come cazzo faccio ya sto pensando ai soldi, bombe, oppure al calcio nuovo re di caserta non mi chiamo Carlo tengo il tocco divino come Diego Armando brother mangiati qualcosa ti vedo un po' bianco come a scuola tengo soldi e droghe sotto al banco sto nel braccio della morte eppure sto pariando ya studio le schedine come un laureato sono a roma kapitale e sto cafonando loro dicono che stilo, beh, grazie al cazzo per quello che spendo ci mancherebbe altro sono un uomo semplice mi piace il calcio mentre alla scena italiana penso piaccia il cazzo sto in provincia, bevo Heineken, Campari e ghiaccio nella tua città sto fenomenando sono a Roma Kapitale capitalizzando per fare il fenomeno, bro, questo ed altro [...]

influencer faccio tracce che non hanno un senso faccio la storia in un minuto e mezzo tu fai storie come un influencer invece lo sanno tutti che sono un rapper per il modo in cui Big Loui consuma non pensa a quanto spende cosa faccio nella vita? il rap e mangio bene quand'è che ti sballi Big Loui? lo faccio sempre ed a farlo sempre sono uscito deficente però dalla pancia sono uscito Vincente Big Loui mette il cazzo in testa a questi rappers Big Loui non paragonarlo ad altra gente sanno tutti da dove io vengo l'accento si sente [...] stavo sulle X come un depresso stavo sotto al valium ero steso chi cazzo ti ha detto che mi fermo sono il main topic, il soggetto sono il CEO come Besos infatti penso solo ai soldi e al fashion entro nella stanza e fermo il tempo meglio morire povero che servo [...]

ke valore dai tu in Italia vogliono tutti il successo degli altri rappers sono solamente truffe e contratti veniamo da Giù siamo terroni e briganti dimmi che valore ai soldi e ai diamanti che valore dai tu ai soldi che valore dai tu ai sogni che valore dai ai tuoi homies piacere sono Loui sono iconic sono icona ya, sono icona ya 10 dentro ai jeans Maradona Loui come fabrizio non perdona prego ca riman è na jurnata bbona prendo tutto e vado via, anni che seguo la scia faccio corse in farmacia ma non tengo l'allergia pensano sia una pazzia, non è una trap è un abbazia prego la Vergine Maria, sto dribblando fra corsie [...]

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senatushq · 8 months

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NAME. Hyrsam AGE & BIRTH DATE. Prehistoric & Unknown GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Aspect / Archsatyr OCCUPATION. Mayor & Employed Everywhere FACE CLAIM. Carloto Cotta

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: cannibalism, death, violence, theatricality, emotion, performance, art ) At the feet of Corellon Lathander, Sehanine Moonbow bequeathed to him an oracle that would foretell the undoing of the Seldarine. A day would come when the blood of the green flames of Azathoth would fall upon Faerûn once more, and Corellon Lathander would be slain.

Vel'drav dúr híril thalran ilta ouhyll lu'l'Rraun fyshname ssark, vel'drav l'asse ithil lu'l'vlos drathir beleg; l'fa'la zatoast rosin d'vlos, d'diz'jalqunn lu'eldalie flames orn ku'lam. L'zhennu lorug withers, l'zhuanth tresk'ri tu'kath, l'xuz d'Seldarine lu'l'Kre'jin d'uss.

From this they divined that the promised son of Oberon would be responsible for bringing about the doom of the Seldarine. That the infant would grow into manhood, and he would raise an army from the court of the Dawn that would rebel against the Seldarine’s empire. As Ada laboured with her son; cataclysms fell across the realm and every curse accessible to the great forces of Corellon Lathander were lobbed at the realm of the elves who’d long taken Oberon as their patron over the Seldarine. The archfey, fearsome, powerful, and indomitable even in the face of an army of divinity, rose to defend his labouring mistress.

From her bowels the unborn child devoured, hungry, cursed, and spurned by the Gods above. Despite the efforts of the Seldarine, Hyrsam was born.

Clip. Clop.

Cloven hooves hit the earth, or at least the realm that would someday be called earth and from that day forth Hyrsam was born. Back when the world was new and the realm was down on its luck, Oberon’s perfect, red faced, screaming satyr came into the world. At his back was the gory mess that he’d devoured from the inside out, Ada was dead, but as an infant he hadn’t known any better. From the moment he was born, Hyrsam stood at full height, wobbly legs got him started, but soon after he was clopping after Oberon everywhere he went.

Hyrsam, twice born, adopted many names over the years but Dimetor was most often used when he was in his youth. Named for the curse that the Gods placed on him; just as Dimetor had consumed his mother on the way out, he himself would have to be devoured at the anniversary of his birth every year. A potent spell woven in blood and cast by Corellon Lathander himself, the assumption was that no father would ever be able to stomach the taste of their own son’s flesh. Unfortunately and not for the first or last time, Corellon Lathander had underestimated Oberon. Stubborn to the bone, he decreed that a great feast would be held every year, a celebration of celebrations, the Bacchanalia.

Year after year the young archsatyr grew and with it his power did as well, Oberon’s flames of creation flowed through his veins and at the height of the world he felt powerful. A mischievous trickster, he traipsed through the realms of the Gods and melded himself within the company of satyrs, nymphs and more. He lay with spouses, hosted orgies, incensed Gods into foolish and humiliating behaviour and then disappeared once more without a trace. He’d have the grandest feasts where he’d encourage mothers to eat their crying babies - no, he didn’t do that. Unless?

Tales of Dimetor’s exploits were rarely uttered; few Gods or nobles wanted to confess that they’d fallen for his tricks. Among the common elves across the Faerûn revered Dimetor as a cultural hero, a champion of the common plight that showed the evidence of the fallacy of divinity. His parties were not limited to the noble houses or the divine realms, he was found in the forests of the Otherworld, in the swamps of murkwood, and Dimetor or his many epithets came to be whispered to over every cup of drink or substance.

In time the Seldarine worked to beat Oberon and Dimetor at their own game, while Oberon took great amusement from his son’s exploits, he never acknowledged this outright. He preferred battles and upfront confrontation to illusions and deception. Spies from the Gods worked their weaves through the Dawn Court and eventually had the people who once worshipped Oberon turn their backs on him. The archfey lost their patronage and he was exiled from the realm before he could be given Titania’s hand in marriage. Furious at this loss, Oberon and Dimetor departed to a fallen realm that had been cast into the Astral Sea with the rising spellplague.

Again and again Dimetor would return though, like genital warts he proved to be difficult to get rid of. The Seldarine fought against the Great Old Ones, the spellplague rose, and inevitably they were chased from Arvandor as well. Absent Oberon and his forces to help them in their fight, their prophecy seemingly self fulfilled as Dimetor followed the tribe of elves from Hyperborea to the land that would be the mortal realm once more. Masquerading as a simple satyr who now served the stinky, false satyr King, Silenus. It was here that he found himself in Eden where he fornicated frequently and ate people rarely. True to his needs, in secret Dimetor established the Bacchic Mysteries, a cult of worship that pervaded the first people and would follow them into the ancient world.

Across the realms Dimetor travelled, different shapes and different forms, his father’s power over the green flames of creation at his fingertips. In one guise or another, the Underdark, Arvandor, Elysia, the Inferno, Elysium, Skyhome, and so many more. Collector of stories and lies, it was in the depths of Menzoberranzan’s royal court that he met the wyvern revenant, the hand of the Queen that was a conquest first and then a lover second. It wasn’t in Dimetor’s nature to love, and yet the stoic riddle maker captivated him; the truth of his identity revealed: Sehanine’s predictions clear, Dimetor travelled between the Underdark and the mortal realm as he gleefully paraded about the annals of history.

The beauty of Dimetor’s worship was that he was just another face in the crowd, fennel wands with tipped pine cones dipped in honey, pan flutes, feathers, and the hides of animals: leopard was a favourite. His followers were everywhere, people from the lowest classes loved him first but in time Dimetor was considered fashionable as Dionysus was adopted into the noble and the ruling classes. Soon he pervaded the many spaces of the rising classical world before falling out of vogue once more.

Embarrassment at Rome saw Dimetor replaced; when he returned to Oberon’s domain, he’d chosen a new heir. A second son, one who didn’t fornicate with every creature that held the mental capacity of something humanoid or greater. One born without a curse over his name or an oracle hanging over his head; it was no matter though, Dimetor and Oberon had once lost the faith of the Dawn Court; he’s take their favor for himself and then use it to devour his father just as he’d done his mother. Now that would be hilarious. First, Dimetor would need an assistant, Elmas was between jobs and came highly recommended. The Assistant was incredibly skilled, and in short order, he claimed the title of Mayor of Rome - and next? The world… Or something like that.

Clip. Clop. Hyrsam would never stop.

PERSONALITY

+ charismatic, charming, entrepreneurial – deceitful, cannibalistic, hedonistic

PLAYED BY SHANE. EST . He/Him.

#takenc #takenm #hyrsam #takenaspect

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