#red light districts amsterdam walk

[mintbees]

Have much experience with prostitutes? 😙

They’re kind of hard to avoid in Amsterdams red light district so yeah

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Do You Wanna Touch Me?

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Pairing: Marcus Pike x Sex Worker Female Reader Words Count: 4,200 Summary: After getting his heart broken, Marcus Pike takes an assignment in Amsterdam. What started as an exploration of the red light district turns into choosing you, the most beautiful art he's ever seen. Warnings: sex work, erotic dancing, hand job, masturbation, fingering, oral (m receiving), reader wears makeup and a dress, marcus tries to escape his heartbreak, van gogh mentions, reader is college aged, dieter bravo exists in this universe

A/N: This was written for @baronessvonglitter's Fuck-tober birthday celebration. I was assigned Marcus Pike and "Do You Wanna Touch Me" by Joan Jett. Happy birthday Adriana!!! 💕

Here are the songs I refer to in the fic: “Do You Wanna Touch Me” by Joan Jett “Bed Chem” by Sabrina Carpenter “Streets” by Doja Cat “God Is A Woman” by Ariana Grande “Cinema” by Harry Styles “The Night Me and Your Mama Met” by Childish Gambino Masterlist

---

Marcus doesn’t do things like this. He’s a good man, a good son, a good brother, a good friend, and most of all, a good agent. And yet, he still walks down the cobblestone street that’s bathed in red lights.

LIVE SEX SHOW  SEX TOYS SEX PALACE HIGH TIMES

What in the world is he doing here? Curiosity, loneliness, being so fucking horny he can’t focus on the case ahead. You’re a good man he tells himself as he ventures deeper into the crimson alleys, the shadow of shame following closely behind him.  

“Hey handsome. Today’s your lucky day.” A blonde man winks, handing him a gilded envelope. “You’re invited to Galerij.” 

Marcus blinks down at the golden envelope, looking up to find the blonde stranger already gone from his sight. He opens the envelope, revealing a simple invitation with gold embossed text. 

Galerij, Amsterdam’s hottest art pieces. €400

He’s a damn FBI agent, and yet he’s too intrigued and desperate for a distraction to say no. He should know better, his badge weighs heavily in his pocket. He plugs the address into his phone with a sigh and makes the quick walk to the address listed, silently atoning for his sins as he passes the Oude Kerk church. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with any of the police officers situated, they might sense his shame. 

“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice intones. He looks up at the plain brick row home that stands out amongst the surrounding buildings covered in neon lights with windows full of girls in different levels of undress. 

A small gold sign hangs above the unassuming black door. GALERIJ

He inhales deeply and pushes the door open. A bell jingles. Inside, an older looking woman with slicked-back blonde hair and a sharp black suit sits behind a desk. 

“Nederlands or English?” she asks, her tone clipped.

“English,” he answers, his throat tight. “Please.”

“Invitation?”

“Oh, uh, here,” he hands her the invitation. 

Without any more acknowledgment, she gestures to a black leather chair near an intricately carved golden door. “Please take a seat.”

A bit of trepidation blooms within him as he sits down, but when he looks around, he realizes that this isn’t some seedy back-alley brothel. It can’t be that bad if the walls are covered in mahogany and the floor is marble. 

The woman makes a quick phone call, speaking in a hushed voice. His palms grow sweaty. What the hell is he doing? This was supposed to be a quick exploration of something that’s always fascinated him… legal vices. Yet now, he's gripping the armrests as the same stern woman brings over a clipboard and card machine. 

“Cash or charge?” 

“Oh, cash?” he replies quickly, fumbling for his wallet. There’s no way he’s going to use a credit card around here, too many chances of his secret adventure getting revealed on a statement. 

“400 euros.” 

He opens his wallet and unfolds his money. 100, what are you doing? 200, what are you doing? 300, Marcus, seriously, what are you doing? 350, no seriously what are you doing? 400, damn, you’re really doing it. 

Stern woman takes the money and hands him a gold pin with a simple G etched onto it. She hits a small gold bell on her desk, a singular ring sharply echoes across the small room. 

He pins the pin to his chest, reminding him of all the times he used to pin the old Met Museum badge to his lapel when he was a young college student in New York. This is so much more different than that, he reminds himself. 

The golden door opens after a moment. 

A beautiful older woman in a dark burgundy skirt and matching jacket walks out with a smile lifting her dark red lips. 

“Welcome to Galerij. I am Maud, the curator.” she greets, offering her hand. “What would you like us to call you here?”

He rises and shakes her hand. 

Can’t do Marcus, can’t do Pike, can’t do Agent. He thinks of that one actor everyone tells him he looks like. “Uh–Bravo.” 

“Very well, Bravo,” she opens the door, moving aside allowing him to walk through. “Welcome to Galerij.”

He steps into a stark white room. The floor is shiny concrete, a singular white table with two white wishbone chairs sit in the middle of the room, a stark contrast to the entrance room on the other side of the wall. Not exactly what he was expecting. The agent in him can’t help but think this would be a perfect place to kill somebody. 

Maud motions for him to sit across from her. “Here you will make your decision on what piece you’d like. Gay or straight?”

He sits down, her question is a reminder as to why he’s really here. “Straight,” he answers, his nerves beginning to creep around him. 

She nods. “All of our pieces are tested, clean, and practice safe sex. Your piece will tell you what they will and won’t do once you make your choice. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“You will have twenty minutes, your time will start once you enter your gallery. A bell will ring every five minutes, your final bell will ring twice symbolizing your last five minutes. Do not be late. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Of course no photos or recordings. We ask you to not even have your phone out. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“Are you ready?” she asks with a smile on her face.

“I am,” he answers. His heart is pounding. 

She nods and presses a button, a shrill buzz echoes through the room. A hidden door opens and a large muscle and tattoo clad man with buzzed black hair and a nose ring walks out carrying a red velvet-covered book. He hands it to Maud, before standing behind her like a silent guardian.

His heart races faster than he ever thought it could when she  opens the book and pushes it towards him. 

GALERIJ with the day's date is stamped on the thick page. 

His fingers tremble as he flips to the first page revealing a photo of an olive skinned and brown haired woman clad in dark blue lingerie with delicate yellow stars embroidered all over it lying on top of swirled silky blue sheets. She’s absolutely stunning.

“This is The Starry Night.”

He nods, turning the page. 

A pale skinned, petite woman with shockingly white blonde hair wears a light blue bra and lace panties while laying atop white flower petals. She’s just as beautiful as the first woman. 

“This is Almond Blossom.” 

He turns the page. 

A dark skinned, dark haired woman sits against a yellow wall wearing two sunflower blooms over her ample chest. Her smile is wide, just like her eyes lined with bright gold glitter. She’s gorgeous 

“This is Sunflowers.”

They all look like they just walked off the runway, all beautiful and alluring. He wonders what–or who–the next piece will be. He smiles to himself when he realizes they’re all named after Van Gogh. Of course he’d find himself in an art themed brothel… he just can’t escape work. 

“Before you see my fourth piece, please know she’s a little different. You cannot touch her, only watch. Don’t let that sway your decision, she is our most popular piece.” 

He braces himself as he turns the page. 

He loses his breath when he sees you. There you are, sitting cross-legged against the same color wall as Sunflowers. He can just see a glimpse of your nipples under your sheer indigo bra. Your green lined eyes leer at the camera. He thanks all the stars in Starry Night for his chance to even get a look at you. He’s lost in time at how your skin glows against the golden wall. 

“Wow,” he breathes out. 

“I believe you made your decision,” Maud says with a knowing smile. “This is Irises.” 

“Yes,” Marcus swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “Irises please.”

She nods and closes the book. “Pieter, let Irises know.”

“Okay Bravo,” Maud says with a smile and stands. “Pieter will come and get you when Irises is ready. Please do enjoy my gallery.” 

“Thank you Maud,” he says, wiping his sweaty hands against the fabric of his jeans. 

The fading sound of Maud and Pieter’s steps and a door closing leaves him all alone in the sparse room.

He hopes he looks good enough for you. His dark blue jeans are presentable enough, his plain gray v neck is clean, he thanks himself for spritzing himself with a dash of cologne before leaving his hotel. He knows he paid the equivalent of close to $450 for you to like him, but he still wants to impress you. 

He checks his watch, five minutes have passed. He’s too afraid to bring his phone out, so he just stares forward, nervously tapping his foot.

This wasn’t his plan at all, he was just going to explore and sightsee, nothing more. No drugs, no sex, just curiosity. 

The door opens. Pieter appears. 

“Irises is ready,” he announces, his accent thick. “Follow me.”

He tentatively trails Pieter through the door walking down a hallway lined with doors. Ornate golden frames hang with Van Gogh pieces in each one. They reach the door with Irises hung next to it.

“Twenty minutes,” Pieter says flatly, opening the door. “Sit in the chair. Do not touch. You watch.”

Marcus nods, his heart slamming against his chest. His knees almost buckle as he steps inside the room. 

It’s dark, save for a single spotlight shining down on a small stage, a lone purple velvet high back chair sits waiting for him in the middle of it. His shaky legs take him up the three steps before he lowers into it, hands clenching the wide armrests, trying to control his breathing. 

He shouldn't be here–-he knows that. It’s too late for regrets now.

The click-clack of your heels echoes through the room when you step onto the stage. He’s too nervous to turn his head to see you. His body tenses, anticipation coiling all of his muscles tight. When you finally step in front of him, he has to remind himself to breathe.

You’re beautiful, the light catches on the sheer fabric of your dress. He can just make out the curves of your body, naked under light lavender chiffon. Your eyes are lined with deep purple eyeliner, ending into a cat eye at the corners. Your ruby red lips curl up into a knowing smile, almost as if you can see his desire for you. 

Four thousand miles away from home and he’s just found the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. His cock begins to thicken, the shame of his paid for voyeurism adventure dissolving from his mind. You’re finer than any masterpiece he’s ever had to investigate. 

“Hi Bravo,” you purr, your voice smooth and teasing, “Do you wanna touch me?” 

He nods and coughs nervously. “Y-yes. But, I can’t.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips. “Good boy.” 

His back tightens, a wave of heat flows down his spine and settles in his lap. For too long he’s disallowed himself from feeling this type of pleasure. Too busy, too sad, too heartbroken. What led him here feels like a blur. An exchange of glances, a subtle wink, an invitation. The black door, €400 out of his wallet, a white room, an open red velvet book, the long hallway, Irises. He allows himself to enjoy the experience just as you send him a wink.

You’re like his own little gallery show standing in front of him. A piece of art he doesn’t just want to see–but memorize.

—

You’ve only been doing this for a few months now. It really is the perfect side hustle to support yourself while finishing your art degree. You’ve been enamored with Van Gogh’s art since you were a child, a lifelong dream realized when you were accepted into the student exchange program at the University of Amsterdam. You made it possible, and now, working two nights a week in between coursework, you're making more than most of your friends earn in an entire week. Of course, only a select few know what you really mean when you say you work at a very exclusive gallery.

It’s a good job. Maud takes good care of you, vetting those who enter her establishment with her keen client recruiters on the streets. Pieter is always a buzz away, though you’ve never felt danger. Everyone needs an escape, some just agree to pay a premium for it. They call it the oldest profession for a reason. 

Bravo. He’s your last customer tonight, and they sure did save the best for last. You watched him approach on the security camera, a smile formed when you noticed how much he resembled your favorite actor, you had plans for him. His wide shoulders, broad body, thin beard, and perfect head of hair almost made you think it was him, if it wasn’t for his eyes flickering around the room nervously. There’s no way Dieter Bravo would be anxious in this type of situation. 

You press play on the stereo. A quick drumbeat starts, your steps keep tempo with it as you come back to stand in front of your client.

Turning around and bending over, your hips dance to the beat of the song as your hands roam along your curves, lifting your dress to give him a peek of your thighs and ass. A low groan rumbles behind you.

“Do you like what you see?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, moving your hands up and down your body.

“Y-yes,” he stammers, his nervous eyes wide and plush lips parted. 

Those same nervous eyes watch as you bunch the fabric of your dress up and take it off, tossing it aside. He eyes you, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes exploring all of you like you’re a painting hanging in a gallery. 

You cup your breasts, feeling the velvety warmth of your skin beneath your fingers as the purple of your nail polish brushes against your hardened nipples. Slowly you tilt your head down and let a trail of spit fall to one nipple. 

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, pinching and pulling the sensitive peaks of your nipples. “Mmph–mmhmm,” he groans, nervously shuffling in his seat. 

Bending forward and placing your hands on his knees gives him the perfect view of your breasts. A long sigh comes from him, his eyes planted on your tits. You like what you’re doing to him, you never start your dances off this close to a client, but you can’t resist him.

When your hands trail up to his thick thighs, the bulge of his pants makes your mouth water, tempting you to move towards it. Not yet.

Leaning closer, you nuzzle against the warmth of his neck. He smells delicious… like eucalyptus and maple syrup. His quickening breaths puff out against your hair. You taste his skin with your tongue, licking your way up to his ear.

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask along with the song.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. 

Pulling away, you wink before turning your back to him and delicately sit atop his lap. Sinking down against his broad chest, the heat radiating off him burns hot against your back. The song changes just as you feel the poke of his erection against your ass.

A poppy beat soundtracks your movements as you grind yourself against the heft of him, falling back, placing your head against his wide chest. Reaching back, your hands tangle in his soft hair, humming sweetly along to the sound, letting a few lyrics slip out of your mouth.

“I bet you we’d really have good bed chem”

Your client follows directions very well, staying perfectly still, gripping the armrests so hard the golden skin around his knuckles turn white. You rub yourself against the rough fabric of his jeans, getting off on the quiet whimpers he leaves in your ear. 

RING. The fifteen minute bell rings.

“And I bet it’s even better than in my head”

You rise off his lap and bend over clasping your hands around your ankles, giving him the perfect view of your ass and dripping core. The song fades out, a deeper, sultrier drumbeat begins. 

“Like you, like you, ooh, I found it hard to find someone like you” 

Your body gently sways along to the slow, sultry beat, and when you flip your head back to glance at him, he lets a low groan out. Placing your hands on the floor, you walk them out ahead of you before you’re on all fours, spreading your legs wide to show him even more of your glistening pussy. 

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, settling on your stomach, snaking a hand between your wide spread legs. 

“Y-yes,” he huffs. 

“I know you do Bravo,” you tilt your hips up hovering them above the ground, “let me show you how I like it.”

Your middle finger enters your soaked entrance as your thumb gently dusts light circles against your clit. Your hips move in beat to the heavy rhythm of the song. 

“Oh god,” he pants, when you stick another finger in, the chair creaking underneath his tensity. 

RING. The ten minute bell rings.

Choreography, that’s the business term for what you’re doing. It’s all timed out, you hear these songs at least ten times every work day. Though you never sit on your clients as close as you did with Bravo, you never taste their skin like you did with Bravo. He deserves more than the same memorized steps, something better than the repetition you offer all of the others. 

The song changes, signaling you to start your new routine, you ignore the cue, rolling onto your back, arching slightly, your eyes meet his. His hands remain clamped on to the armrests, fingers digging into the velvet. He’s trembling with restraint, beads of sweat glistening on his skin. His erection swells, the tight fabric of his pants tenting. 

“Do you wanna touch me Bravo?”

“I do,” he whines, the lines of his neck straining as his head thuds against the back of the chair. 

“Okay, okay baby,” you sit up, turning to crawl towards him. Your eyes don’t leave his. 

“And I can be all the things you told me not to be

When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing”

Kneeling on your knees in front of him, you unlock one of his clutched hands, moving it to the soft skin of your breast. 

“N-no touching I thought,” he stammers, his hand laying flat against your skin.

“I make my own rules, it’s okay Bravo,” you allow, grabbing his other hand and placing it on you.

He groans when he cups your breasts in his hands. You watch the tendons of his strong hand tense and release as he cups your breasts and massages them in his hold. He’s mesmerized by his movements, like he can’t believe you’re allowing him to touch you. 

Your hand teases its way up his leg to the warmth of the apex of his thighs before gripping him, thick and hard underneath the constraints of his jeans. 

“Oh fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so beautiful.”

His words of adoration fall out of his mouth, eyes still locked on your tits covered by his hands. 

You unbuckle his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans as the choir sings God is a woman. 

The song changes.

“You got, you got the cinema”

Your eyes light at the sight of his cock, standing tall and thick, precum leaking from the engorged tip. It’s just as beautiful and wide as the rest of your client. 

Bravo lets out a garbled groan when you wrap your hand around his length, slowly pumping him along to the song. Up, down, up, down, the sexy beat soundtracking your movements. 

RING. RING. The five minute bell rings. Your client doesn’t seem to heed the warning, only focusing on his thumbs swiping back and forth against the peaks of your nipples and your hand stroking the smooth silk of his cock.

“Touch me Bravo,” you rise, lifting a foot up on the armrest, keeping hold of his pulsing dick in your hand. “Give me two of your fingers.” 

His eyes gaze down to your dripping cunt, watching himself as his hand sweeps down your body before parting your folds. 

You got, you got the cinema

You got, you got the cinema

Your hips undulate to the tempo of the song as he sticks two of his long, thick fingers into your heat. 

“God damn,” he mutters incredulously, “you’re so wet.”

The song changes. 

A steady and slow funky guitar plays along with a soulful choir. It’s soft and romantic, exactly what you like to close down your shows with. You’ve never ended a show like this, your hand wrapped around your client’s wide cock, and your pussy clenching around two of his thick fingers. His thumb begins sweeping back and forth against your clit, he may have found himself at a brothel in Amsterdam, but your client has done this before. Perfect movements, perfect angle, you stare down in reverie at the focus he holds, watching himself touch you. His adoration of your body heats your core, lighting an orgasm just as beautiful as the song that plays. 

“Fuck baby,” you pant, “I’m gonna cum.”

He blinks up to you, brown eyes staring intensely into yours when you bite your lip and send a gush of wet against his fingers. Your legs turn shaky, as your clit pulses against his thumb that blesses your sensitive bub with just the right amount of pressure. Moving his hand from between your thighs, he holds it up, marveling at the sight of your juices shining against his skin. You send him a smile as your leg drops to the floor, the rest of your body following, kneeling in front of him. He still stares at his hand, watching the strings of your orgasm stretch across his widely spread fingers. 

“Smear it on your cock for me,” you say, planting both hands on his thighs. 

He groans and nods before rubbing the remnants of your orgasm on his shaft. He shouts an indistinguishable sound when you lick a line up to his tip, tasting yourself and the salty tang of his precum. Your lips envelop the fat tip of him, sucking and slobbering your way down the thick length of him. 

The song ends, the playlist repeats. The same quick drumbeat of the first song plays loudly. 

You suck him to the beat, flicking your tongue against his tip with each “YEAH!” of the song.

RING. RING. RING. The final bells ring, signaling that your client should have left by now.

Bravo locks up. Your mouth unclasps from his cock.

“It’s okay,” you assure, “we have a word for–”

A heavy knock lands against the door. 

“Driehoek (triangle) Pieter! I’m good in here, thanks!”

Three rapid knocks–softer now–signal Pieter’s departure.

“You guys really have it all fig–oh god,” he moans, when you take his cock back into your mouth.  

His strong legs shake against your body as your cheeks hollow, taking him into your mouth faster and harder, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. Drool leaks out of the sides of your mouth, your eyes stare up at him blinking back tears as he reaches the back of your throat. You don’t know if he’s ever allowed himself this much freedom, it feels like you’ve unlocked something deep within him with the way he’s snarling and grunting “Irises” over and over.

“G-gonna–yeah–yeah–cum,” he gasps, hips stuttering and chair creaking as he spills into your accepting mouth. 

Bravo, client. Bravo.

—

He can’t believe he just did that. He just–he–he just– came in the mouth of a complete stranger–nay–a prostitute. You told him you’ve never done something like that with a client as you tossed him a towel… and the funny thing is he actually believes you. 

You shuffle back into the see through lilac dress as he zips his jeans back up. You really are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, even if your purple eyeliner is now streaked from the tears that sprung in your eyes from gagging on his cock. Wow, that did just happen. 

You leave a kiss against his cheek and open the door for him. Pieter escorts him out the back entrance with a knowing smile. 

He walks back to his hotel, a new man with a clearer mind. Marcus really doesn’t feel the shame he expected he would. He knows a fine piece of art, and you just might be the finest he’s ever seen. 

[soupforsoup]

Some behind the scenes tidbits I feel normal about (classic who edition):

- apparently every story Matthew Waterhouse's hairstylist would say they were going to trim his hair and never did, resulting in all the variations from crusader triangle to fuck ass bob to shaggy mullet

-Peter Davison was unaware he was many people's sexual awakening in his dressing gown in black orchid

-Colin baker was mistaken for a runner by another actor in arc of infinity and asked to go fetch a coffee (which he did)

-he would also walk around making chicken noises on the set of arc of infinity (until he was told to stop)

-Matthew didn't know adric died in part four of earthshock until he read Peter's script whilst shooting, and was apparently more upset over the fact he was being killed off rather than just leaving

-a lot of the doctor who movie was filmed in the same building as the X-files

-Janet Fielding was told she was good casting for doctor who because she "looked slightly alien"

-Deborah Watling and Frazer Hines used to joke that she left the show because she got pregnant, as she left almost nine months after arriving

-Sylvester Mccoy once couldn't find a filming location until after the doctor who fans, who had been waiting there for an hour

-Paul Mcgann thought all the doctors companions were their kids

-Peter and Sarah Sutton had to stop Janet from accidentally prostituting herself in the red light district

-Sylvester once played the spoons on a guy that tried to menace him

-Paul had to wear a wig because he was casted with the long hair you see in the movie but cut it all off for another role a couple months before they started filming

-Janet called Matthew "matte-finish" and "boom-boom waterhouse" whilst filming earthshock

-the cast bought a prop gun for arc of infinity from a sex shop in amsterdam

(Just to stress I obviously don't know the validity of these I just sourced them from interviews and commentaries!! Please don't come for me if these aren't accurate! These are just some funny things I've heard and if anyone else knows any random facts or stories feel free to reblog/share!!)

[hollywoodroses]

We need freaky ass duff, like disgustingly freaky, not like shit kink, but yk what I mean, make it pounding into when he’s sweaty and using a lots of toys and idk just freaky shit THANK YOU!!!!! YOUR WRITING IS FUCKING AMAZING

OMFG, Thank you so much! I’m glad people like my dirty mind and writing style. 😘

peep show (a requested duff mckagan story)

While visiting the red-light district in amsterdam, duff gets dragged into a wild x-rated experience.

warnings: very heavy smut including: exhibitionism, voyeurism, use of toys, pain!kink pet!play, choking!kink, mommy!kink. reader just gets off on duff’s sexy body. language including sexual language. heavy fem!slash, mild drug use and drug hallucination.

a/n: hi anon, I tried to make this one as dirty as possible. I hope you like it, I’m nervous for this one. 🥺

mdni

Summer 1988 - Amsterdam (10pm local time)

It was the middle of Guns N’ Roses appetite for destruction tour in Europe. The band was taking a few days off and checking out the night-life. Duff was currently in a cafe, having lost track of his bandmates. He was offered a pill to take with his coffee, too curious for his own good he took the pill without asking any questions. It only took a few minutes for the medicine to do its magic and suddenly Duff was on an LSD trip. He saw a powerful light which caused him to leave the cafe in order to get rid of the uneasy feeling. Not realizing where he was going, he ended up in the infamous red-light district.

Duff was in shock as he saw half dressed men and women walking very openly in the streets, literally dragging people into the pornographic shows. He came up to an open window which showed every sex act known to human nature. He got up close as he watched two naked women swap spit with each other, a chill going down his spine.

One of the women noticed him and kissed him through the window egging him on to join her. Duff was curious but curiosity killed the cat as he joined her in the fun.

Meanwhile, you were watching Duff from the open door of the sex-house wondering why the small little lost kitten was being a bad boy. You are naked with a clear shall wrapped around your oily body. You walk towards the two women who are playing with your pet. You grab a collar and a leash that was on a table and once you get close enough to Duff, you step outside from an opening on the side of the window.

You lightly put your hand on Duff’s chest which started to feel wet from his sweat after taking the pill. Taking his shirt in your hands, you grab it and rip it open hearing him moan for you. You whisper dirty words in his ear which causes him to lay his head on your shoulder, a perfect way to give your kitten the collar he deserves.

When Duff feels the collar around his neck his eyes go wide in shock. You push him to his knees and proceed to walk him like an obedient pet. Duff walks on his hands and knees, whimpering from pain. He feels his cum drip out of his dick seeming to be turned on by the whole experience. He couldn’t wait to rail you until you are screaming in ecstasy.

You walk him into the building and sit on a chair, encouraging Duff to sit in your lap. He grinds into your pussy and you moan while closing your eyes. You want to feel him close to you but you get sidetracked when he licks your lips, you can’t help but moan at the whole situation. You start to heavily make-out with him, your eyes are in shock as he begins to suck on your tongue. Feeling yourself get hot, you push him down on the floor in front of you. He slowly starts to lick your pussy feeling you dripping for him makes him even more excited.

You can’t help but blush, he keeps licking and sucking your pussy that you shout as you squirt in his face. Some of the liquid ending up in his mouth, you praise him at how well he behaved. You pull Duff into your arms and kiss him, sticking your tongue down his throat. Feeling your nipples go hard, Duff starts to suck on your chest while dry humping you. You watch as sweat starts to drip on his body. You can’t help but lick his sweet water, a moan getting lost in your throat.

Your hand finds a vibrator as you kiss Duff passionately, rubbing it on his dick as the other half rubs your pussy. You can feel Duff straining to speak, you hear him moan “mommy” like a religious mantra as the vibrator slips from your wetness and falls to the ground.

“That’s right baby, keep going. I know you want me.” You reply with lust in your eyes.

You smile as you literally feel like you own him.

Duff sees a toy dick on the table next to you, as you can’t help but rub against his body while feeling like a whore. He smiles wickedly as he takes it in his hands and starts fucking you with it. Loving hearing you moan like a porn star made him even more wild for you. He drops the toy and lets go of you to undress himself, sitting back in your lap. He begins to rail you until your a screaming mess. Duff laughs as he lightly puts his hand around your neck to get a rise out of you. To his surprise, you roll your eyes back and lean your head over the chair, moaning. Your voice gets the attention of the two women from earlier, one of the women smiles as she was the one that got you to join the sex house. She’s so proud of you, she walks up behind your chair where you are leaned back as kisses you while your head is upside down. Covering Duff’s hand around your neck with her own. When she takes your tongue in her mouth you orgasm so hard you see stars.

You kiss Duff with so much passion you feel a pain in your heart that you have to let him go. After Duff gets dress, you kiss him one last time, sneaking a note in his pocket as he leaves the wild world behind.

the end

[instantcaramel]

A month ago I went to Amsterdam and visited all the filming locations for Ted Lasso‘s „Sunflowers“, so I figured I‘ll finally put something together here.

First of all, basically all the scenes involving the majority of the Richmond himbos were not shot on location - their epic discussion followed by pillow fight was filmed in an abandoned hotel in London. (Info per David Elsendoorn). The same would go for Ted & Beard‘s room. Scenes on the bus or outside it were also filmed in Richmond.

The only Greyhound who doesn‘t have his own larger plotline in the episode who was actually in Amsterdam was David Elsendoorn, because they did film the first scenes at Johan Cruijff (you know how to pronounce it now!) ArenA, the home of Ajax Amsterdam (which is also the one place I didn‘t have time to visit). They could have easily filmed that in London in a different stadium but I guess they didn‘t want to pass up the opportunity - and give David something to do on his home turf.

Edit: I visited 3 months later, so here‘s some pics from the ArenA, I couldn‘t find out which hallway they used/dressed up for the press interviews, but here‘s some shots from the stadium and the VIP lounge we see at the beginning.

So, first up is Roy & Jamie‘s adventure: Jamie takes him sightseeing against his will, and the first place they stop on is Magere Brug (Skinny Bridge). (They run up the street to that before.)

Edit thanks to @warriorhoneybee: Roy grabs Jamie’s wrist at Diamond Factory on Rokin and then tells him he can‘t ride a bike outside Lyppens Jeweler at Langebruugsteg.

They go around the corner to Oude Turfmarkt (which is what I took a picture of) for Jamie to teach him how. For Grandad!!!

The fucking windmill they see before they lovingly gaze into each other’s eyes is De Riekermolen at the Southern end of Amstelpark, where they also cycle. (It‘s actually realistic for them to do that, it would be about half an hour between those locations by bike).

Rebecca doesn‘t see the obvious bike lane (that doesn‘t actually exist there) and falls into the gracht at Raamgracht. Boaty McBoatface‘s houseboat is still there, they just had it dressed up a bit with plants and such when they filmed. (Unclear if anyone currently lives there). The interiors were shot in a studio.

Trent follows Colin to Prik night club (which was absolutely buzzing when I was there, I really want to go back).

And then they sit at the Homomonument, the Pink Triangle memorial at Westerkerk, having that tearjerker of a conversation, before returning to party. (It walked that distance at night, it‘s a beautiful stroll and less than 10 minutes). When I visited someone had left sunflowers. 🌻

Leslie & Will first go to Hotel Prins Hendrik in the Red Light district (and steps away from Amsterdam main station) where Chet Baker died. They then make their way to Jazz Café Alto, which is just down the road from where Boom Chicago used to be on Leidseplein. (It‘s about 30 mins on foot between those two locations so they could have walked or just taken the tram for a few stops. The interiors were done at a studio though).

Ted of course visits the studio-filmed fictional themed restaurant where he has a BBQ sauce induced, Corey Burton-narrated epiphany about triangles, but first he sees Vincent‘s „Sunflowers“ at Van Gogh Museum during Museumnacht (which btw would mean the episode is set first weekend of November). As you can tell they moved some things around, so at least currently the painting isn‘t hung on that beautiful blue wall anymore.

As a bonus, here is a picture of where Boom Chicago used to be when Jason Sudeikis, Brendan Hunt and Joe Kelly performed there - Brendan also used to live above the McDonald‘s on Leidseplein just steps away for a while. And the other picture is the current Boom Chicago on Rozengracht, definitely go enjoy a show there if you can.

Anyway thus concludeth my trip around Ted Lasso‘s Amsterdam. I visited for the Boom Chicago Comedy Festival and fell in love with the city, it was … magical / gezellig. I will never forget it, but then again, some people get Alzheimer’s.

[theodorecanaryhood]

The coffee shop guy and Red Hood

Part VII

Arkham Verse Red Hood! X Male reader

Jason takes his boyfriend travelling

The low sunlight hit you as you figured it must still be early, that early morning light filled the room as you felt Jason’s arm around your neck.

Jason had held you like this since the day you first stayed with him, it meant so much more now since your altercation with your stalker. Jason would refuse to let you go.

You were grateful for how protective Jason could be, you were grateful for his other life. In this moment, you were thankful.

‘Morning gorgeous’ Jason smiled sleepily as he kissed the back of your head.

You smiled as you turned your head to give the sleepy Jason a kiss, Jason pulled you in tighter and held you in place. Giving more morning kisses.

It was the first day of the new adventure the two of you were going on, Jason was taking you travelling to give you some break from life, plus to take your mind off of your altercation.

First, the two of you were going to go on a road trip to Coast City, then you were going to fly from there to Italy.

Sitting in the Airport waiting for the announcement of your flight, Jason held your hand tightly in his.

You’d never seen Italy before so it was nice to get away, especially as it was just the two of you. Jason and you to the end of the world and back.

The flight seemed to be quick as before you knew it, you and Jason were walking through the streets of Venice. Hand in hand and talking about life.

‘Bonjourno’ Jason smiled to an older man who tipped his hat to the two of you.

You spent a weekend in Venice, seeing sights and hitting bars, restaurants and clubs. Jason seemed a different man for this trip, coming out of his shell and allowing himself to be enough of a distraction.

After a week in Venice, the two of you took a trip to Amsterdam.

‘Coffee shop?’ You asked as Jason smiled, nodding as the two of you went inside.

Smoking and sipping on lattes, the two of you both enjoyed the brain fog as the smoke filled your heads.

Being high is a new experience for you as you travelled up to the red light district. Jason was in a different element as he looked through the windows.

Jason felt himself shooting up in his pants as the whole point of the red light district came across clear.

Jason took you to your hotel room and lay you on the bed, his length stood hard, you called out in passion as Jason penetrated you from behind.

Holding your arms behind your back, back arched, head facing the headboard as Jason pumped himself of pleasure into you. Emptying himself inside you.

‘I love you so much baby’ Jason panted as he lay on top of you, you turned your head to greet his lips.

‘I love you more’ you replied as Jason chuckled, you rolled onto your back, Jason remaining on top of you.

You pulled Jason in for a kiss and holding him in your arms. Jason buried his face into your neck, kissing your collarbone.

The next and last stop before heading back to Gotham, you flew to Germany.

‘God, this is so amazing’ you gasped as you took in the view of the German streets.

‘Gutentag’ Jason smiled, friendly strangers passing by.

Jason held your hand tight as the two of you checked into your hotel. You going out onto the balcony, taking in the view.

Jason lay on the bed as he watched you, taking the view in as you smiled brighter than you’d ever done before.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat as he walked over to you, giving you a deep kiss. Taking your hand in his, Jason walked you to the nearby bar.

Shots, shots and more shots, Jason was surely going to black out as he watched you, kissing you every so often.

The two of you joined a group of 20-something year old guys and girls, drinking and dancing in the bar with them.

‘You are so beautiful’ Jason whispered in your ear, pulling you in for a hug.

Kissing you as he held you tightly, grinding a little into you through your clothes. Smelling the liquor off of Jason’s skin and clothes, you buried your head into Jason’s chest.

The two of you said goodbye to your new German friends, who invited you back anytime for a visit.

You were sad you were catching your flight back home, but truth be told you just wanted to get back to yours and Jason’s home. Be alone together, relax.

Jason held you in his arms as a blanket lay neatly in your forms, Netflix on in the background. You lightly snored as Jason kissed your head, smiling as he had seen more of the world, but in this moment. Jason was happy to be holding his world.

[minni-bunni]

I literally just saw the prettiest person on the red light district in Amsterdam omg (not in the windows) 😵‍💫 like.. they were walking on the main street near the channel and they had a long leather coat, and big boots with spikes, and long hair, and some face piercing (eyebrow, nose and maybe lip?) And they looked so fucking good and I need fate to be good to me and help me find them aaaahhhh

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

as someone who grew up in Amsterdam, don’t even get me STARTED on prostitution here! one thing being the fact that walking down the street near the red light district I have had BROTHEL OWNERS joke about “HIRING” me whilst I was simply walking by as an eighteen year old girl! or to witness hordes of men ogling the prostitutes, knowing they would very happily pay to rape you too. knowing that women are nothing but a product to them. but those are simply personal qualms… then to be silent about the horrors of the prostitution itself and how our policies and government assist human trafficking and child prostitution/abuse…

god it must be terrible growing up there … we went to amsterdam on a school trip once and our (male) teacher insisted to show us the red light district. it was traumatising, i was literally 16 looking at women naked in windows, knowing what is happening where the curtains are closed. in my hometown in germany there is a street and i remember that already in elementary school kids would make jokes like „haha i saw your mother in [name of the street]“ like way before any of us had sex or interest in sex we already knew about prostitution and where it happens. this is what growing up in a country like the netherlands and germany where prostitution is legal does

[just-a-pole-sir]

https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/3930354 // This JacklesFakes edit is by far one of my favorites! Just imagine a reality were you can walk into a club and see Jensen like this on a pole, giving the audience the hottest erotic dance they’ve ever seen! Or going through the red light district in Amsterdam and seeing this stud putting a show on one the famous sex worker windows! I wish I could travel the multiverse lol. 🥵🤤

[liefst]

I'm going to Amsterdam for my birthday soon! Is there anywhere you reccomend going or general advice? I'm really looking forward to it :)

walk around the city center and look at the architecture, buy some food and drinks and have an improvised picknick by one of the canals (go and sit in one of the green spaces beside the streets/"in" the canals that they created recently), visit the secondhand book market at oudemanhuispoort, if you want to visit the anne frank house/the van gogh museum/the rijksmuseum: buy your tickets online in advance, browse secondhand english books at "the book exchange", visit begijnhof, the vondelpark is crowded and overrated in my opinion but the streets around it are beautiful, have a look around in the red light district if you must but it's not worth it spending a lot of time there (loads of drunken male tourists and the worst tourist trap shops and cafes you have ever seen), take any ferry to amsterdam noord and back again to see the water and feel the wind in your hair (it's free), and my best kept secret tip: for a walk in a more "authentic"/less touristic/still very picturesque environment: take the metro to noorderpark (only about 2 minutes from central station), then take a walk through the street nieuwendammerdijk and explore its side streets, and stop halfway for a cup of tea/coffee/a drink at café ‘t sluisje :)

[toomx]

Ted Lasso 3x06 Thoughts

First off, I stayed up way too late to watch this for someone with places to be in the morning but wtv 🤷‍♀️

Am I going to watch it again later? Yes, it’s just that good.

MEGA SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT, I PROMISE

First off, staying in the houseboat of a strange man in a strange country is wildly unsafe, but that’s Rebecca’s (bad) choice to make. Also, did the psychic not say something about drowning or swimming or something???

He seems nice and all but me, personally, I would not spare a second thought for a bald man with a foot fetish. But I mean, get it queen.

Keeley and Jack seem to be actually fleshing out a relationship and I’m very excited to see how it goes. Especially with Roy and even Jamie

Higgins’ marriage could never have problems wbk, but I must admit I was a tad bit concerned with all his talk of the red-light district.

If I was Will Kitman and upon being told I was going to “become a man” an entire team of people said “nah” I’d enter my villain era. But again, get it king. (I love that he told his mother about having a/getting invited to a threesome. I like to think he had one but that’s just me.)

This episode turned me into a Roy/Jamie liker. I’m sorry, there’s no hope for me now, they’ve given me too many gay people and I no longer know how to behave.

In all seriousness, James Tartt Sr. Better sleep with both eyes open cause when I find him... oh boy.

Also Jamie teaching Roy how to ride a bike made me cackle

Only my favourite himbos would spend their entire time in Amsterdam trying to agree on something to do in Amsterdam. And I absolutely adore the fact that a bunch of grown men decided the best course of action was to have a pillow fight.

Ted wandering around Amsterdam under the general impression that he’s just done drugs, only to wind up at the Van Gogh Museum, have a meaningful conversation about sunflowers, go to an American restaurant, hallucinate Nate Shelley as a cowboy (which was a jumpscare btw), hallucinate some more about triangles , then suddenly be a football coach genius was everything I didn’t know I needed.

Last but not least, the crème de la crème, the Colin and Trent plot line.

As much as I loved Trent’s outfit, I think he needs a stylist cause 🧍‍♀️

The sheer amount of times i’ve recited “I know, I’ve known for months, I haven’t told anyone, I must have a reason for that mustn’t I?” is crazy. (I wrote the word ‘must’ in class today and sent myself off again)

Also, the fucking (silent) scream I scrumpt!!!

Good day to be a Queer Trent Crimm Truther I must say

When I tell you I had to pause and walk around my room to prevent myself from screeching

Also, I would like to know what Trent’s plan was exactly cause he decided “Yeah! I’ll follow Colin to a gay bar and come up behind him! He’ll love and appreciate that!”

Colin’s spiel made me cry ngl

Richmond singing on a bus!!! Life is good! Great even!

[rosiestalez]

I Need a Break

Peter B. Parker x Maledom!reader

An- This was sorta rushed, i have been super busy and wanted it OUT today. Regardless enjoy! Request by: https://princeasimdiya12.tumblr.com/

Warnings- HUGE 18+, bdsm, cheating, Redlight District, bad google translate German. Not my gif.

I am so stressed out, this was supposed to be a fun vacation for Peni, Mary- Jane, and I. Yet for some reason I was doing more work than I was supposed to. I need a break, I’m getting to old for this shit.

Peni and Mary are fast asleep in the hotel sweet, I am restless, I can’t sleep; my body hurts and my mind fills with thoughts. I can’t do this anymore. Without hesitation I climb out of the bed, putting on a pair of jeans and a jacket. I slip on my shoes, and put my gold wedding band in the secret compartment of my suitcase.

I wander the streets of De-Wallen, Amsterdam, no destination in mind, it’s around three am and the city is bustling with music and people filling the streets. I finally settle on on a small building, it was calling my name, I needed this. I walk in the lady at the front desk gestures me back. I follow her motions, I walk into a room, it’s empty; a bench sits in the middle of the room, I hear the muffled music through the walls. The room smelled faintly of Tom Ford cologne and the walls were painted back. The red ceiling light hovered perfectly over the bench. I gulp, I strip off my clothes, and sit on the edge of the bench.

He walks in, he’s tall, toned muscular build, and he’s wearing a mask. His hair is dark and flows seamlessly over his black mask that covers his eyes almost completely. He closes and latched a heavy door behind him.

“Hallo Parker”, he walks to me. My once slumping head is being forced up by his strong rough hands. “Warum bist du hier?”

“I need a break”, I answer back in English, speaking German isn’t something I picked up in preparation for this trip. “Do you only speak German?”

“Nein”, he answers, “I prefer it”, his English is extremely broken, but his thick German accent makes my dick twitch in anticipation. “Do you mind Parker?” I shake my head no, he smirks in response.

“How do you know who I am?”

“I follow around city”, he begins prepping for my session, I relax my eyes gazing down his toned back, stopping at his black fitted jeans lying below his back dimples. “Lie back”, he speaks gruffly. I do as I’m told lying back on the bench. He clasps leather straps that were hanging from a pole on both my wrists, and another pair around my ankles. I’m trapped there’s no where for me to go now. My cock twitches with excitement, and my heart is feeling like it’s going to pound out of my chest. My vision goes dark, as he ties a silk scarf around my eyes. He slips something in my mouth and buckles it in the back of my head. Fuck, I’m being gagged; just thought of seeing myself bound and gagged with a red multilayered cloth gag is enough to get me to lose a load. I wait, in humiliation for him to begin.

Five minutes…

Ten minutes…

Fifteen…

I hear a buzz, and a like warm substance is being dripped into my asshole. Lube? He brings the buzzing toy to my body dancing it around the top of my swollen dick, I jerk. He doesn’t stop there, he brings it down my shaft and rubs its around by hole, it relaxes me, he slowly slides it in, I moan at the feeling of my hole being filled. “Fmg”, I grunt through the gag at the feeling of being filled radiates through my body.

“Das ist ein guter Junge”, he speaks lowly. I wiggle pulling against the restrains begging for more pleasure.

One orgasm…

Two…

It’s later kindly approaching 5am, I feel woozy, out of it, and just waiting to get water. “Can I get…water?”, I ask now that the gag has been removed from my mouth.

“Nein”, he says blankly.

“Then can I go back to my hotel?”

“Nein”, he repeats. I get more anxious. What if Mary wakes up and realizes I’m not there? “You stay.”

“Until when?”

“Until I say.”

“I booked an hour, it is well over an hour.”

“Sorry Peter”, he responds. He smurks. He pulls out a different toy. My dick twitches again.

[thinkragelive]

2023 : Back Alley Body Mod [Europe Trip Day 01 Amsterdam]

Walking home from a night out. Red Light District.

[struggling-to-find-home]

It's raining.

5°c outside and pouring rain (definitely not your favourite combination, as in your personal opinion, rain should go and fuck off whenever the weather is below 10°c), and nasty enough that all of your abusers looked outside the window and went "Nope, we are not going anywhere today".

Unfortunately, the 3,5 hour journey from the capital to the city your uni is in waits for noone, especially not for suitable weather; you've made this treck dozens of times before, in sweltering heat, in rain, in snow, in blizzard, whatever floats the boat; so a bit or time ago you took a trusty old backpack, a paper bag with gifts from a long past holiday you missed because you spent the day of it preparing for a test on the digestive tract, and a flimsy umbrella and set out outside.

Oh, by the way, fuck paper bags in the rain - the fucker is dilapidating on the seat next to you as you are writing this, with it's handles having broken off two times (!!!) In the hour it takes to get from the house to the underground train to the big multi-city train station.

There's something very beautiful about rain, about traveling in the weather in general. Brings up... Something.

That something is supposed to be memories, but it only brings a twinge of recognition, but apparently nothing so outstanding that one comes rushing immediately. Eh, either not important or not traumatising enough, then - the bad memories always show up quick, the bastards.

But there's no point distressing over it: if the memory wants, it will come; if the memory doesn't? Well, it's not like you'll miss whatever it was, as you don't know what you're missing, anyway. So you buy your customary coffee (a silly little tradition that started back in 8th grade and went on to take on numerous forms in your life before finally ending up in it's current form of getting yourself a coffee between every 1,5 hour train ride to the uni city), with the addition of coffee resulting in another twinge of recognition - okay, so apparently it was something about carrying uncomfortable bags, rain, and coffee; what an odd combination - and go find a place on the train.

The coffee tastes supreme. It makes you much happier than it's supposed to, but hey, you're not complaining; gotta get that sweet sweet serotonin in any possible way.

The train is well protected from the elements so, after finding a spare seat and depositing your slightly wet belongings on the one next to you, you sit down and take a moment to relax. Apparently, that's enough to make something click, the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place, and it hits you.

Years ago, in a much darker cafe, with your jacket, backpack and hair sopping wet because none of you decided to check the weather before signing up to a trip to Amsterdam, you sat the same way: drinking coffee in order to warm up, your mother on the seat across from you, vicious annoyance written on her face.

That's right, you went to Amsterdam, didn't you? On that trip you took with your mother to Germany when you were 13; you remember the trip, don't you?

Okay, well, thinking of it, you do not, in fact, remember the trip. It's only glimpses of memories, the way there always are when a new one decides to eject itself from whatever crevice of your brain it hides in: you remember the way the leafless trees looked white and magical covered in frost, you remember walking around shops and seeing a star-covered hoodie that cost like a bitch so you couldn't get it; you remember the christmas fairs you went to and standing at a dark, empty station at 11pm with a reindeer headband on your head which jingled every time you moved; you remember the trip to Amsterdam, yes, the way the windows were all foggy and how you were very cold and uncomfortable but didn't say shit because... Okay the reason is lost to time so that probably wasn't something nice; remember going to the red light district and walking around the pouring streets, uncaring about the way the rain soaked your clothes because of how beautiful everything looked; you remember the last day - running around the airport like a madman, spending the free time you had in looking at everything in the duty-free section.

...

You don't know how to feel. That trip was a week long, and the best you can scrounge up is what, six memories? Out of 168 hours? Seven days filled with novel experiences?

(...The fuck happened throughout the rest of the trip that you forgot so much?)

But still, that six (six!!) Good memories that weren't there an hour ago. That's more of them than you've gained in the last six months combined.

So you catalogue them into your memory, next to the weekend you had, also filled with good/decent enough things, and, while the joy from finally getting something good from your bastard brain is fresh, decide to focus on something more productive - the oh so big and bad histology textbook. You do have a very big topic due tomorrow, after all.