My moist basement

It floods on a regular basis usually from my reverse osmosis de ionization units float valve malfunctioning.

Mario:Welcome Luigi to my moist basement we store all of our food here.
Luigi:What in the name of the old apartment is that smell.
Mario:That would be the mold forming from the moisture we should probably get out of here and begin abatement as soon as possible.
Luigi:Yeah that would be a good idea.

by Microwave boy September 12, 2022

Hop on ash court basement

A place where the only form of sex is through anal. Once someone says this to you there’s no way out of it

WhoZ, hop on ash court basement with me.

by WhoZ July 18, 2022

liquid basement

term used by people in the "ghetto" (hounslow) to describe basement music

"ye blud in ma yuf wz into dat liquid basement"

by snowy snowerson January 2, 2010

basement attic

An attic that looks like a basement. usually with tiles over hardwood. This is ware they keep the girls to pretty for the basement. Ware they hide bodies in the floor. Aka the basement attic could be the main floor as well.

The killer hid the bodies in the basement attic floor.
This one is too pretty put her in the basement attic master.( Master bedroom privileges).

by Slavegirl March 4, 2024

lady basement

Slang for vagina

Stop it your flooding my lady basement.

by Brew2w June 6, 2017

Library Basement

The first floor of the law school at the University of Denver. However, because the entrance to the library is on the second floor, the 1st floor of the library is the "basement." a.k.a. the silent level.

1: You studying at home today?
2: No, lawbrary, silent level.
1: Ahhh, the library basement?

by XcvX16 December 4, 2011

Basement Party

That grimy, locked-door underground throwdown where everybody knows straight-up fucking was popping off in every dark corner, but come morning, nobody's ever confessing a damn thing—the penetration stays heavily implied by all the screaming evidence left behind. Bass rattling the walls, bodies vanishing into the shadows for hours, clothes scattered like casualties, and when the lights finally cut on it's all "we was just vibing," even though the soaked cushions, crusted sheets in the washer, and girls slipping out barely able to walk tell the real filthy story. Just pure, nonstop raw sex that nobody caught dead-on but everybody felt in their bones.
A true Basement Party hits different 'cause the air stays thick with that post-fuck haze, sweat and cum baked into the concrete, hickeys blooming into deep marks hidden under hoodies the next day, testimonies already scrubbed clean to "just dancing and drinks." The whole setup screams orgy—dim red lights, couches pushed back, bottles rolling underfoot—while the aftermath paints the picture nobody spells out: stained mattresses flipped quick, limps blamed on "too much twerking," that lingering raw scent clinging to everybody's skin. Everybody swaps those knowing side-eyes on the way out, stories locked down tight, 'cause what went down stays etched in the evidence—the dripped fluids, the wrecked bodies, the silence that says everything.

Yo, that Basement Party last weekend was wild—shorty came upstairs at sunrise holding the wall, couch looked like a crime scene, pure implied destruction." That's how it always goes: felt by the whole crew, admitted by zero, forever written in the stains and the smirks nobody explains.

by meth duck December 14, 2025