#Custom photo T-shirt
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@AgroStudio_: Customs for @calumhood for @5sos world tour 💪
Commissioned & styled by @daveysutton
2 two-piece suits, 1 shirt, 1 trouser & 10 tees
4 September 2023
#stage outfits#calum hood#5sos#5 seconds of summer#calum 5sos#calum#agro studio#davey sutton#fashion#star shirt#star t-shirt#custom#print#photo print#patches#suit#cargo pants#the 5sos show tour#2023
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The Future of DTG Printing: Innovations and Advancements in the UK Industry
In today's fast-paced world, the demand for high-quality, personalized printing solutions continues to rise. Direct-to-Garment (DTG) printing has emerged as a game-changer in the printing industry, offering unparalleled flexibility, speed, and customization. In the UK, DTG printing services are witnessing a significant surge, driven by technological innovations and advancements. As we delve into the future of DTG printing in the UK industry, let's explore the latest trends and developments shaping this dynamic sector.
DTG printing UK has revolutionized the way businesses, individuals, and organizations approach printing. Unlike traditional methods, such as screen printing, DTG printing offers a cost-effective, on-demand solution with minimal setup time. Printnasium.co.uk stands at the forefront of this revolution, providing cutting-edge DTG printing services tailored to the diverse needs of its clientele.
One of the key innovations driving the future of DTG printing is the advancement in printing technology. Printnasium.co.uk utilizes state-of-the-art DTG printers equipped with precision engineering and high-resolution capabilities. These printers can seamlessly transfer intricate designs onto various fabric surfaces with unmatched clarity and detail. Whether it's custom apparel, promotional merchandise, or corporate branding materials, DTG printing services offered by Printnasium.co.uk deliver exceptional results that exceed expectations.
Moreover, sustainability has become a top priority in the printing industry, and DTG printing aligns perfectly with eco-conscious practices. Unlike traditional printing methods that generate excessive waste and consume large amounts of resources, DTG printing minimizes environmental impact by using water-based, eco-friendly inks. Printnasium.co.uk is committed to sustainability, offering DTG printing services that prioritize environmental responsibility without compromising on quality or performance.
In addition to environmental sustainability, DTG printing UK is also driving innovation in terms of design flexibility and creativity. Printnasium.co.uk empowers customers to unleash their creativity by offering unlimited color options, intricate detailing, and rapid prototyping capabilities. Whether it's a one-of-a-kind design or a large-scale production run, DTG printing services provided by Printnasium.co.uk enable customers to bring their ideas to life with unmatched precision and vibrancy.
Furthermore, the rise of e-commerce and online marketplaces has transformed the landscape of retail, driving the demand for personalized merchandise and custom apparel. DTG printing offers a scalable solution for businesses looking to capitalize on this trend, allowing for quick turnaround times, on-demand production, and seamless integration with online platforms. Printnasium.co.uk caters to the evolving needs of e-commerce businesses, providing DTG printing services that enable them to offer personalized products and enhance customer engagement.
As we look ahead, the future of DTG printing in the UK industry appears promising, fueled by continuous innovation and technological advancements. Printnasium.co.uk remains at the forefront of this revolution, leveraging its expertise, state-of-the-art equipment, and commitment to quality to redefine the standards of DTG printing services in the UK.
In conclusion, DTG printing UK is experiencing a paradigm shift, driven by technological innovations, sustainability initiatives, and evolving consumer preferences. Printnasium.co.uk stands as a beacon of excellence in this dynamic landscape, offering unparalleled DTG printing services that empower businesses, individuals, and organizations to unleash their creativity and leave a lasting impression. As the industry continues to evolve, Printnasium.co.uk remains dedicated to pushing the boundaries of what's possible with DTG printing, shapisng the future of printing in the UK and beyond.
For more information about Bulk Tshirt Printing and visit here Printnasium
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Endless Creativity with Customized Printing and Promotional Products
In a world overflowing with information and choices, the power of a strong first impression cannot be underestimated. Whether you're representing your company at a trade show, organizing a community event, or simply looking to enhance your brand visibility, personalized and visually appealing materials are the keys to success. At Name Bagde, we take pride in offering an extensive array of customizable products and printing services designed to help you stand out and leave an indelible mark on your audience.
Name Badges/Tags:
PVC White Rectangle Customized Name Badges/Tags: Elevate your professional image with our meticulously crafted name badges/tags. Impress clients, customers, and colleagues with your attention to detail.v
Printing Services:
Photo Papers: Transform your precious memories into tangible keepsakes with our high-quality photo paper prints. Cherish life's special moments in vivid color and sharp detail.
Inkjet Sheets: Whether it's for business presentations or personal projects, our premium inkjet sheets ensure your designs pop with vibrancy and clarity.
Flag Printing Services: Make a bold statement with customized flags bearing your unique message or logo. Perfect for events, businesses, and more.
T-shirt Printing Services: Wear your creativity on your sleeve – or your chest! Our exceptional t-shirt printing allows you to express your individuality and promote your brand.
Customized Festival T-shirt Printing: Embrace the festival spirit with one-of-a-kind shirts that capture the essence of the occasion.
T-shirt Printing for Festival: Celebrate special moments with custom festival-themed attire that stands out in the crowd.
T-shirt Printing for NGO: Raise awareness and funds for your noble cause with custom tees that tell your story.
Promotional Products:
Button Badges Raw Material: Unleash your creativity by crafting your own button badges. Our high-quality materials ensure your badges are both durable and eye-catching.
Tags Loops: Keep your promotional tags secure and organized. Ideal for events, giveaways, and marketing campaigns.
ID Card Holders: Present your ID cards with professionalism and protect them from wear and tear. Our holders combine style and functionality.
Magnetic Fasteners: Say goodbye to fumbling with pins and clips. Our magnetic fasteners make badge attachment a breeze.
Dome Labels: Add depth and sophistication to your branding with our unique 3D dome labels. Elevate your brand's presence with a tactile and visually striking finish.
Flexible Dome Stickers: When durability matters, our flexible dome stickers deliver. They are designed to withstand the test of time while showcasing your custom design.
Acrylic Paper Weights: Make a statement on desks everywhere with elegant and personalized paperweights. A subtle yet powerful branding tool.
PVC Foldable Bookmarks with Magnet: Combine the practicality of bookmarks with the appeal of magnets. Perfect for keeping your place and displaying your brand message.
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PVC Bookmarks: Simple yet effective promotional tools that provide a tangible way to keep your brand message in your audience's hands.
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PVC Foldable Bookmarks with Magnet: Combine functionality and aesthetics with our unique bookmarks, designed to keep your brand message in the spotlight.
At Name Badge, we recognize the significance of making a memorable impression. Our diverse options empower you to unleash your creativity, breathe life into your ideas, and differentiate yourself from the competition. Whether you aim to enhance your brand image, commemorate a special event, or champion a worthy cause, we possess the tools and expertise to help you achieve it.
Let us be your creative partner; together, we can transform your vision into a tangible reality that resonates with your audience. Please reach out to us today to explore how our customized name badges/tags, promotional products, and printing services can elevate your brand and leave an enduring impression. Your success is our commitment, and we look forward to helping you make a remarkable lasting impact!
#a Photo Papers#a Inkjet Sheets#a Button Badges Raw Material#a Tags Loops#a ID Cards Holders#a Magnetic Fasteners#a Dome Labels#a Flexible Dome stickers#a Cushion Cover Services#a Sipper Bottles Printing Services#a Flag Printing Services#a T-shirt Printing Services#a Acrylic Paper Weights#a PVC Foldable Bookmarks with Magnet#a PVC Bookmarks Satin Thread#a PVC Bookmarks#a Customized Festival T-shirt Printing#a T-shirt Printing for Festival#a T-shirt Printing for NGO
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F1 Secret Santa 2023 Summary
Lance to Fernando: a captain hat for his new yacht and a bottle of wine
Yuki to Lance: a beanie (or toque in Canadian)
Zhou to Yuki: a Chinese cookbook and an apron
Charles to Zhou: a (second) Bottass calendar that he tried to return to Charles only for Charles to give it back to him again
Fernando to Charles: a padel racket
Nico to Pierre: a tripod 😉
Esteban to Nico: a 🥱 mug
George to Esteban: a Spider-Man travel mug, carrying case, and neck pillow
Kevin to George: a Santa Hoptimist (Danish figurine)
Logan to Kevin: a “shhh … I’m watching racing with daddy” onesie and a book about the best road trips in the USA
Lando to Logan: a Miami Heat mini hoop and basketball
Pierre to Lando: the actual gift (a headcover with Lando’s face on it) didn’t arrive in time so an “OnlyPutts” golf marker as a placeholder
Oscar to Alex: customized golf balls
Daniel to Oscar: a koala t-shirt and Christmas candies (is it still Secret Santa if your Secret Santa is impatient and spoils that he is your Secret Santa before you can even open your gift?)
Checo to Daniel: limited edition tequila
Alex to Checo: a Williams teddy bear and kids clothing plus Alex Albon Athletics sneakers
Max to Valterri: “A Simply Lovely Look at the Butt in Art” (a book of those photos of Valterri overlaid on existing pieces of art)
Carlos to Max: a vintage arcade mini
Valterri to Carlos: chilli pepper swim briefs and chilli hot sauce
#f1#formula 1#formula one#secret santa#lance stroll#fernando alonso#yuki tsunoda#zhou guanyu#charles leclerc#max verstappen#nico hulkenberg#pierre gasly#esteban ocon#george russell#kevin magnussen#logan sargeant#lando norris#oscar piastri#alex albon#daniel ricciardo#sergio perez#valterri bottas#carlos sainz
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#Round Neck T-Shirt Printing in Bangalore#Custom T-shirt Printing in Bangalore#Brochure Printers in Bangalore#Poster Printing in Bangalore#Id Card Printing in Bangalore#Best Visiting Card Printers in Bangalore#Personalized Photo Mugs Printing in Bangalore#Printing Company in Bangalore
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Since t-shirts are simple to wear, they will save you both time and effort. If you are going to work, wearing a t-shirt and then changing when you arrived would be a fast and easy process. Since a t-shirt is so easy to wear and change, it can help you save time and give you more time for other parts of your routine.
Today, you can find t-shirts in all materials, colors, and designs. They are also comfortable and simple to wear. It doesn’t matter what type of t-shirt you choose, polo t-shirt, military-style t-shirt, vintage t-shirts, or something else; you will find they are fun and comfortable to wear.
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#TshirtPrintingNearMe TshirtPrintingInMumbai CustomziedTshirtsInMumbai#Customized T-shirts Personalized Graphic T-shirts and T-shirts with customized photo printing in Mumbai by T-shirt printing near me. industr
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Also I have to say "but bands are using AI art for their album covers" is not a winning argument.
That band wasn't going to pay you. That band was going to beg somebody's artist brother for a freebie or they were going to have the people in the band who can kind of draw draw something or they were going to use a moody photo someone took with their cellphone. Best possible scenario is "they were going to trade for something from someone in the scene," and this is still the most likely scenario for bands that *give a shit* about that kind of thing.
And I've been the one doing freebie artwork for my musician friends; I've made album covers and done promo shoots, I've drawn logos and I've got a standing offer to make buttons for the cost of materials for every band I've ever played a show with. The people who give a shit in the scene are already doing this because everybody knows that everybody's broke.
I'm certain that there's not *zero* overlap between "bands that can afford to pay artists and photographers to create album artwork" and "bands that are using AI art for their album covers" but if you think "indie musician" is a demographic that has money to spare on commissioned artwork, I'm pretty sure you're mistaken.
Like. Okay, I mean my *big* argument is that AI image generation is fair use, full stop.
But the secondary argument that I've got is that I'm not sure there's a market to have the bottom fall out of.
The person making shitty covers for their amazon romance novel was not going to pay you. They were going to pay someone on fiverr eight dollars *at best* and that's only if they couldn't find a way to DIY.
That band that's trying desperately to sell ten tickets so they can play a show at the cool venue was not going to pay you to do their cover art. Their last fifty bucks just went to covering those tickets because their friends aren't even coming to their free shows. They were going to stage a photoshoot with a cellphone and a timer and someone's sister's selfie stick.
That person who made an AI avatar was not going to pay you for a custom avatar they were going to take a screenshot of your work and use that.
The people who are able to afford to pay artists and who are interested in paying artists are not the people who are replacing artists with AI. The t-shirt dropshippers, the shitty book cover designers, the bland corporate artists, and the art reposting instagram pages were the ones who undercut your market.
If you're concerned that someone is going to use AI to make art that is materially similar to yours and sell it, you're just concerned that someone is going to make art that is materially similar to yours to sell. The concerns about AI doing it are functionally exactly the same as what happens when someone says "wow, I want that on a t-shirt" under your drawing. If someone were to draw a character similar to but distinct from yours with words similar to but distinct from yours and put a link to that on a reblog of your post, that person is not actually infringing on you. They're a shithead, but that's not actually art theft. If they used your character and your words, or if they directly copy the image, that's art theft and you can try to get their post taken down. It's the exact same thing with AI.
The people who care about art and can afford to pay for it are always going to pay for it. Your problem isn't with AI, your problem is with the fact that people don't value art and that's as true now as it was a decade ago.
You are trying to sell a complicated, crocheted sundress made with 100% hand-dyed alpaca wool on Etsy and are complaining that the loose knit acrylic sundress from walmart is undercutting your market. Some people are always going to make the effort to save up and pay for your work because they value the craftsmanship, but those people didn't want to shop at WalMart in the first place. And the ones who value your craftsmanship but just plain can't afford it were going to dig through the bins at a thrift store until they found a crocheted swim cover from the seventies that they could pass off as a dress with a few alterations.
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Sam’s gas can this week features a personal photo of a bespectacled Matt as a young teen when he was too old for a Chuck E. Cheese birthday party but had one anyway because he wanted to play their Jurassic Park shooter game. He won twice, but now feels betrayed by his family for this gas can gag.
Immediately after revealing his gas can and making Matt bluescreen, Sam unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a custom T-shirt beneath featuring a different picture of a young Matt, also acquired from a traitorous family member.
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The Black Rose
🖤 staring: Tattoo Artist Miguel O’Hara x female reader
◽preview:
“Let me taste what this pussy of yours is like and then I'll tattoo that rose on your gorgeous ass.”
🖤 summary:
At The Bloody Inks, the renowned Nueva York tattoo parlor, you meet the skilled, stone-cold and attractive tattoo artist, Miguel O’Hara. Seeking a tantalizing tattoo for your rear end, Miguel isn’t hesitant to get what he wants, especially if it’s a doll like you.
◽tw/cw: Butt Tattoo, Cunninglingus, Dirty Talk, Face-Sitting, Lip piercings Miguel, Needles mentioned, Oral sex, Semi-public, Tattooed Miguel, etc…
🖤 Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Muñeca (Doll), Bebé (Baby)
◽Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I
🖤 Word Count: Around 9.6K
(I do not own any of the fanart or photos used! All credit goes to the original artist!)
(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)
You were used to getting tattoos, so what made this time any different?
You found yourself pondering that very question repeatedly, as you approached the renowned Nueva York tattoo parlor, 'Bloody Inks.'
Since the age of 18, you've adorned your body with small pieces of inked art, from your ankles to your shoulders. Despite your familiarity with tattoos, today marked a departure from the norm as you contemplated getting a substantial artwork for the first time.
But that wasn't what made you nervous…
It was where you were getting it.
You had a little bet with your friends about your next tattoo, and to your dismay, the idea of a butt tattoo became the central topic.
Secretly desiring one, you were always hesitant due to fears of pain and discomfort on such elastic tissue, the thought of undressing completely from the waist down only added to the nerves.
Yet, here you were, opening the door to the notorious shop…
A bell rang at your arrival along with the crackle of a searing guitar and thunderous drumbeats playing from a speaker. The music’s furious tempo of punk music overwhelmed your senses as you were hit with the smell of ink and antiseptic, and a hint of sandalwood. You stepped inside, your black tennis shoes, on wooden scuffed floors as your eyes roamed the dimly lit lobby before you.
A black leather sofa sat in one corner, a front desk before you, and a few sculptures and decorations covered the worn wooden floors. Despite everything inside, your attention was instantly captured by the gallery of designs that covered the black-brick walls of the tattoo parlor.
There were many sketches and finished pieces that were put on display, an assortment of vibrant colors and intricate details bringing life to the lobby. Mythical creatures, mandalas, floral designs, phrases, and abstract patterns decorated the walls, each one telling a different story and waiting to be chosen and etched onto willing skin.
The counter was empty when you arrived, a soft, dim glow of light hanging from chains on the ceiling cast an amber hue throughout the lobby. You stood patiently at the black desk, fiddling nervously with the bottom of your white t-shirt and pondering if you should go through with this tattoo…
“Oy! We have a customer!”
The loud outburst from a male with a British accent cut through the rather quiet lobby, making you jump. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest whilst you overheard the small conversation between the British male and who sounded like a female coming from further in the tattoo parlor.
“Gwendy, love, I’ve been dealing with the past few customers for a while now. Why not deal with this one, hmm?” The girl responded with a scoff.
“Hobie, you know you haven’t done shit.”
“Ah…you got me there love.” The British guy said with a chuckle. “Well, stop playing around and help the customer.” The girl laughed as you soon heard the sound of heavy footfalls becoming louder and louder. It wasn’t long before the identity of the British male was revealed to you.
The black curtains that separated the lobby from the back of the tattoo parlor opened to unveil an ebony guy with thick black hair and piercings. His hair was styled chaotically on his head, but you had a feeling it was purposeful with the way he carried himself. He had unmistakable confidence and not a care in the world for anyone. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black jeans, a black t-shirt covering his lean body as his combat boots thudded against the wooden floors.
He came behind the counter, turning his dark brown eyes upon you, instantly making you a little intimidated. “Aye, name’s Hobie, and welcome to the Bloody Inks. Are you here for a piercing or a tattoo, love?” He asked, his slender fingers locating a pen and notepad from his side of the desk.
You chewed your inner cheek, drumming your thumb against the handle of your small bag.
This was your last chance to back out…
To decide to go on with life without the tattoo on your rear or to face your fears and get the beautiful inking.
It wasn’t long before you already had your answer, giving the male before you a small smile. “I’m here for a tattoo.” You said bringing a smile to Hobie’s pierced lips. He glanced down at the notepad, his pen gliding across the page. “Can I see some ID?”
You were used to this question and already had your ID in hand, placing it into the ebony male’s palm. He barely glanced at it before returning it to you. “Nice, have you been to Bloody Ink’s before?” He asked, causing you to bite your lip nervously.
“No, this is my first time.” He looked up at you, his pierced lips pulled back into a smirk. “Ah, great! I’ll make sure the big boss does your tattoo then.” He said with a smile, but you couldn’t help becoming a little more anxious. The boss was going to be the one giving you your tattoo.
The tattoo on your bottom…
You gulped, hoping the male wasn’t scary-looking or a perv.
“O-kay!” Hobie exclaimed, pulling you from your thoughts as he finished writing. “Now, I’ll give you a book to look over the designs whilst the boss finishes up in the back,” Hobie said, pulling a black, hardcover album from under the desk, placing it into your hand, then motioning for you to take a seat on the sofa.
You followed along to his instructions, taking the black book in your hands and moving over to the leather couch where you sat down. Hobie then left, going behind the black curtains and drawing them close once more.
To pass the time and decide upon your tattoo, you look over the many designs inside the book. Each was skillfully sketched by hand and each held their own, unique form of beauty. Your eyes glazed over blazing skulls, graceful elephants, motivating quotes, to lastly land upon a beautiful flower.
You gasped, instinctively reaching out to trace a finger along the intricate lines of the sketch. You could already imagine the rose’s petals on your bottom, sprouting out in full bloom across your right, no… left cheek.
The circular pistil was visible and drawn so full of detail that it felt like it was jumping out at you. A few leaves could be seen peeking out the top of the rose as you felt like this design was for you.
Like it was drawing you in…
…
..
.
“Have you decided?”
A deep, husky voice asked inside of the quiet lobby. You jumped in your seat, eyes snapping up to see someone was occupying the counter…
But it wasn’t Hobie…
A tanned male with a muscular, large build was now present. Standing tall and broad, his physique showed proof of his dedication to the wellbeing of his body due to his swell and bulging muscles. His chiseled features were framed by a strong, defined jawline, a sharp nose, and dark smoldering eyes.
His bronze skin held tattoos that were intricately etched on his skin, each design holding a mysterious story across the backs of his hands, on his arms, and even along his chest and neck. They accentuated the contours of his muscles and added even more allure to his already magnetic presence. He placed his hands on the desk, his eyes still trained on you, his taut body dressed in a mere black t-shirt, jeans, and boots, but he made such simple clothes look like it was woven by the gods.
You didn’t know how long you’d been gawking at him in utter shock and disbelief at the magnificence before you. It wasn't until he moved once more, beckoning to you with two inked fingers that you snapped out of your trance.
You gulped, gathered up your bag and the black album, and made your way to the counter.
The closer you got, the more attractive and intimidating he became. His bushy eyebrows were drawn low over his amber eyes and his mouth, holding two ringed piercings on the opposite ends of his lower lip, were pulled into a scowl.
He looked stern, but you pondered if that was just his usual look.
“So have you decided on what piece you wanted?” He asked again, but you were still baffled by how drop-dead gorgeous he was that you almost misheard him once more. “Y-yes.” You stammered, gulping thickly, your finger still holding the page of your desired sketch. He hummed, holding his large hand out to you, motioning to the black book. You complied, placing it open into his palm, the hardcover open to the page of your tattoo choice.
It felt relieving to not have his stern eyes on you anymore, his amber orbs looking at the sketch you’ve chosen in the book. You bit your lip nervously, eyes trained on him whilst he looked over the design before he turned his gaze back up at you. “You know that’s an ass tat, right?” He bluntly asked which made heat rise in the back of your neck.
“Y-Yes, I know.” You replied, causing his eyebrows to rise for a brief second in surprise. “Well…Okay then.” He said, closing the book and holding the page with his thumb. “I’m Miguel, I’ll be your tattoo artist for today.”
Your heart dropped at his words.
You didn’t know to feel excited or nervous as hell, knowing he’d be the one touching you so intimately. “I-It’s nice to meet you.” You replied, giving him a small smile. His eyes lingered on you for a moment too long as he gave you a curt nod, a gesture that hopefully meant, 'You too.'
He motioned with his head to the back of the tattoo parlor, the entrance that was covered in black curtains. “Follow me.” He commanded in a gravelly tone. You gulped, following behind him through the black drapes to venture further into the tattoo parlor.
Instantly when you entered, the smell of ink and antiseptic became more potent, the sounds of the buzzing of the tattoo guns filled your ears along with the playful banter between the two artists from before.
“So Gwendy, you still believe just because you're in your twenties now that you can order me around?” Hobie asked the girl from across the room. She chuckled, looking away from her male client who was getting a skull tattooed onto his leg to over at Hobie. The girl had blonde, wavy hair and black piercings that covered her face. Two studs styled her eyebrow and a hooped one could be seen on her nose.
She smirked at the ebony male. “I didn’t say anything of the sort and stop calling me that. You know my name.” She laughed, eliciting a snort from Hobie. “Aye, but I like Gwendy better than Gwen.”
Miguel groaned in annoyance, looking between the two young artists. “Stop this nonsense and get to work.” He barked at Gwen and Hobie which surprised you, every muscle in his backside tensing up after his outburst. The conversation ceased to be replaced with just Miguel and your footsteps and the buzzing of the tattoo needles, but Miguel’s previous words didn’t seem to affect the two artists’ since after you both left, their conversation started up again.
Miguel grumbled under his breath, his grip on the black album tightening. You walked behind him down the hallway, his tall and broad being completely blocking your view around him. Every time you looked up, you came face to face with his muscular backside that was covered in his black T-shirt that looked to be straining against his musculature.
You clutched your purse while walking down the hallway to watch him enter a room. When you looked over, you saw a name tag on the door that read 'Miguel O'Hara.'
‘This must be his own personal tattoo room.’
You thought, your stomach clenching on cue as you followed him into the room. Your eyes instantly took in the attractive strangers’ workspace, the room you would also be spending the next hour or so in.
The tattoo room seemed to be more grand, more important than the one the two artists’ Gwen and Hobie were in. The walls were decorated, once more, with black and gray masterpieces of artwork, but these were more sci-fi and futuristic than the ones displayed in the lobby.
Spotlights hung from the ceiling carefully positioned to cast a focused radiance upon the vintage leather chair in the center of the room. The space smelled strongly of ink, antiseptic, men's cologne, and…
Smoke.
But not the typical smoke from a fire, more like from tobacco.
You couldn't help but wonder if the fine male smoked. You didn't want to assume or stereotype, but he looked like he would…
Your eyes soon graced over the main attraction of the room, the tattoo chair and station beside it. The seat had a black leather cushion that looked soft and very comfortable. It appeared, overall, brand new as if no one had hardly sat in it. A steel workstation was positioned beside the hot seat, the surface covered in an assortment of tools like a painter’s palette. The main one catching your eye was the needles and the gun.
You gulped, stepping more into the room as Miguel was rummaging through a nearby closet, the sound of metal and items clattering inside. He glanced momentarily over at the flower sketch inside of the black album before returning to get the items he needed.
You’ve learned, so far, that your tattoo artist was a rather quiet man. He barely spoke, and merely did things without providing a reason or explanation. He rummaged through the closet, next to the cabinets of a few counters and then a small chest in the room, trying to find all of the items he needed to, what you can infer, tattoo your desired choice onto your skin.
Your eyes never left him, watching his massive build transverse around the room, moving things, picking things up, putting them to the side all whilst holding an aura of unshakable coldness that dripped from his very being.
It was intimidating, yet alluring, nonetheless.
Once Miguel found the items he needed, he placed them onto the steel workstation.
With the way he was going about things, you would have thought he'd forgotten about your presence; as he was completely engrossed in what he was doing, placing a piece of stencil paper that held the floral design you wanted onto the workstation, along with black ink tubes, napkins, bottles of creams and other things.
However, you couldn’t focus…
You were highly nervous.
You stood nearby, clutching your purse whilst Miguel covered the tattoo chair with a few gray towels, before returning to organizing his workstation, and handling his tattoo gun. His thick, inked gingers deftly glided across the metal tools and inks when he finally looked up at you. You noticed his dark brown eyes roam your figure, meeting your eyes once more as he fiddled with the needles and tattoo gun.
“Which side?” He asked suddenly, placing the gun down on the workstation. You were baffled, confused about what he meant. “W-what?” You stammered, watching him take a seat on a black rolling stool. “You want your tattoo on your bottom, correct?” He asked, causing you to nod at his question. “Then which side?” He inquired once more.
You gulped, biting your lip. You pondered, remembering the artwork of the black rose from the album book and how beautiful it was, briefly deciding with yourself on which side. “O-On the left.” You replied after considering.
He hummed, nodding whilst placing a pair of black latex gloves onto his table.
“Okay, I’m going to need you to undress from the waist down and lay on your stomach.” He directed, pressing a button under the chair with his foot, causing the backing to lean back.
Your heart quickened and your stomach clenched. This was what you were worried about…
The undressing part.
It wasn’t that you had an unattractive body or weren’t familiar with the acts of intimacy, it was the thought of him, a handsome stranger having his stern gaze on your sensitive area.
How he’ll have to be studying your flesh, taking in every curve and dot whilst he worked in etching the beautiful tattoo onto your rear that made you a little reluctant.
You hesitated, clutching your purse once more. Your nervousness started to become palpable as you noticed Miguel looking up at you. He took in your tentativeness, his stern face softening at the sight. He sighed heavily, clenching his jaw as his lip piercings caught in the ceiling light.
“Are you sure about this?” His deep and rough voice filled the quiet room, his movements coming to a halt. You chewed your inner cheek, pondering his question. “Yes…I’m sure.” You replied, causing him to click his tongue. “Then what are all these nerves coming from?” He asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The movement seems to make his pecs more defined against the black fabric.
“I’ve seen you aren’t new to tattoos.” He said, his amber orbs probably taking in the small, tattooed quotes and patterns covering your body in minor spots before meeting your eyes once again. “So what’s the problem?”
You sighed, meeting his eyes.
Strangely, you felt like pouring your heart out to him.
Despite his coldness, you had a feeling whatever you told him would stay in this room…
“I’ve never got a huge piece done before.” You told him, which was partly the truth. Miguel hummed, his gaze on you intense. “That’s it?” You bit your lip anxiously once more, fiddling with the zipper of your purse. “N-No…I guess I’m nervous about…
Undressing.”
You uttered, biting your lip. However, Miguel seemed unfazed, only nodding in understanding.
“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly which made your eyebrows furrow. “Y-Y/N.” You hesitantly replied, bringing a tight-lipped smile to Miguel’s lips. “As you can see. Y/N, for the tattoo you’ve chosen, it’s required that you undress from the waist down.” He said, his amber eyes searching the room before landing on a decoration that sat on a counter.
He stood up, picking up the small porcelain sculpture of a gray woman’s naked body. The piece looked rather small in his massive hands.
“You see here.” He turned the female around, pointing to the left side of the gray sculpture’s plump rear end. “This entire side will need to be revealed for me to work.” He explained, lowering his finger to point underneath the left cheek. “And the tattoo would end underneath the left buttock.” He said, setting the sculpture to the side, and turning his eyes back onto you.
“For other tattoos, I wouldn’t have asked for such things and simply allowed you to keep your undergarments on and work from there.” His tone was gravelly and rough as he spoke to you. “But I'd like to be cautious, so I ask you to remove everything.” He informed you, which made you feel better about the process, but still wary.
Miguel, looked you up and down, tapping his finger against his thick thigh, noticing that you were still hesitant. “How about this,” He began, his words instantly piquing your interest. “I can turn around and allow you to undress and get into a comfortable position on the chair.” He said. “I’ll even give you a towel to cover yourself with.” He proposed with a straight face. “How does that sound?” His demeanor and gravelly tone contrasted greatly with his kind and understanding words.
You thought it over for a while before nodding at his suggestion. He rose from his seat, retrieving a black towel from the closet, and placing it onto the tattoo chair that was already covered in gray towels. He then returned to his rolling stool and turned around to face the wall. “Let me know when you are done.” He said, his voice, husky and deep.
“O-Okay.” You told him, the uncertainty, evident in your voice. Your eyes took in his muscular backside that was straining against his black t-shirt. Every bulging muscle was visible through the fabric.
You bit your lip, feeling rather odd but proceeding on.
You closed the door of his tattoo room and set your purse down on the floor. You exhaled deeply, calming yourself down before looping your fingers into the waistband of your black shorts, slowly drawing them down, your eyes trained on him.
Miguel was completely solid and unmoving. His arms crossed over his chest and his back still facing you. He was so quiet, that you could almost forget he was there.
Well, almost…
When the black fabric of your shorts was nothing but a puddle around your ankles, you stepped out of them, tossing them to the side. You gulped, standing in just your white shirt, black tennis shoes, and panties. You heaved a quiet sigh, chewing your inner cheek.
This was the hard part…
You were about to undress completely…
You exhaled deeply, reluctantly slipping your thumbs into the elastic band of your black panties, pulling them down, and exposing your sex to the tattoo room. You hissed, feeling the cool air against your core. Hastily, you removed them from your being, tossing them to the side along with your shorts.
It felt so weird standing in a foreign place with your rear completely unveiled.
You wanted nothing more than to cover up…
Your eyes shifted over to Miguels’ broad backside, still in its same position.
“Everything alright?”
You jumped at his sudden question, his voice was thunderous compared to the total quietness that had once filled the room. “Y-y-yes.” You squeaked, swiftly moving to climb onto the tattoo chair, laying on your stomach, and placing the black towel over your bare rear to conceal yourself.
After Miguel’s abrupt question, he didn’t say anything else, and neither did you, despite being ready. It took a while for you to tell the sexy, and rather intimidating tattoo artist that you were all set. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest every time you thought you were prepared to do so.
You rested your chin upon the backs of your hands, laying flat on your stomach. You heaved a sigh, feeling rather ridiculous at how scared you were.
You chose to come here, just like you chose to get this tattoo.
‘No reason to back out now.’ You thought, wetting your lips before getting the artist’s attention. “I-I’m ready.” You muttered, causing an instant creak from Miguel’s stool to be heard.
“Good.” He uttered, the sound of the wheels from his seat gliding across the black marble flooring filling the room. You soon felt his presence to your right, seeing him in your peripherals, sitting tall and large on his stool next to you on the tattoo chair. His dark brown eyes continuously glanced over at you before roaming your body, his facial features unreadable. You couldn’t tell if he was checking you out, or was merely looking at you to see if you hadn’t fainted on his chair.
“You seem…tense.” He commented in his usual dead tone. You looked over your shoulder at him to see his large hands attaching a black ink tube to his tattoo gun. His black tattoo arm sleeve was visible under the projecting light of the ceiling as his amber eyes were trained more on what he was doing rather than you.
“Y-yes. I’m still a little nervous.” You confessed, feeling your hands begin to tremble slightly. Miguel looked up at you, the light bouncing off his two lip piercings on his lower lip. “If I start and your body is not relaxed it’s going to hurt like a bitch.” He said bluntly, setting his tattoo gun onto his workstation. His words didn’t help, only causing your heart to quicken in pace and freak you out even more.
Because how could you possibly calm down?
It felt utterly impossible…
You weren’t nervous about the needle, or getting tattooed to begin with. You were experienced when it came to the inking process. What was working the nerves was the thought of his stern gaze and calloused hands feeling up your bare bottom. His gloved thumbs pressed into your rear, his amber eyes trained on every piece of you from the waist down which was making you nervous as hell.
Miguel eyed you, taking in your troubled expression as you lay upon his tattoo chair. Your bare bottom, covered in a black towel and your chin resting on your hands.
“Let me relax you.”
He abruptly said in almost a commanding voice rather than as a proposition. His suggestion made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t help the naughty thoughts that came to your mind at the thought of him ‘relaxing’ you.
"And h-how would you do that?" You asked, watching him rise from his stool, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you.
"I'm going to give you a massage."
He declared. Your eyebrows furrowed at the unexpected proposal, your entire body suddenly heating up. "I've never heard of a tattoo parlor doing something like that." You admitted, feeling him adjust the chair's height to match his towering 7-foot frame, bringing the seat up to his waist.
"That's because you've never been to the Bloody Inks before," he said, a hint of amusement found in a usual cold voice. "There's a reason we're notorious in Nueva York, Y/N " he explained. "If we did what every other parlor did, we'd be just like any other tattoo shop…
Isn’t that right?”
He whispered, his voice sending shivers down your back. “I-I guess so.” You replied as without warning you began to feel his thick fingers on your shoulders, caressing small patterns into your blades. You gasped, the feeling instantly making you melt into the chair.
“You okay?” He asked, every touch of his thick fingers against your tensed muscles making you shudder. “Mhm.” The hum being pulled from your very being and coming out more forceful than you attended whilst Miguel continued his massage.
Miguel’s tattooed hands were large and strong, tracing the contours of your muscles and pressing gently into them. Suddenly, you winced slightly, the tension resisting his skilled touch. “Relax,” He uttered, his voice a low rumble that reverberated from the depth of his broad chest. You shakingly nodded, eyes fluttering closed at the wonderful sensations. “O-Okay. I’ll try.” You replied, trying to calm yourself.
You shakingly exhaled, feeling Miguel’s hands move down your back, his soothing caresses focusing on the crease that began the arch of your ass.
“Damn, there's a lot of tension here.” He commented, adding more pressure into his fingers and kneading the soft tissue in that area. You let out a contented sigh, his large hands enclosing around the sides of your waist. His thumbs pressed into your skin through the fabric of your white t-shirt, rubbing small patterns into your lower back. You groaned softly, the sensations he was bringing to you felt so good.
His touch, mysteriousness, voice, coldness, everything about him was so hot.
His fingers soothing places in your back that you didn’t even know existed, bringing you closer to tranquility.
“How do you feel?” He asked, pressing and running his palm along the center of your back, making you shiver. You exhaled deeply, your limbs feeling heavy and relaxed. “Mmm, good. It feels good.” You replied with closed eyes.
“That’s good to hear.” He said, his hands leaving your body.
“But I can’t help but notice you are still tense.”
Miguel said, making your eyebrows furrow as a sense of emptiness filled your being without his touch.
“W-what do you mean?” You inquired, entirely puzzled. You didn’t feel a single bit of tension in your backside. A feeling of pure relaxation filled your being, leaving you confused about what he meant by such things.
But it wasn’t like you were skilled as a masseuse yourself, so you could be mistaken.
“Yes, you are still tensed.” He uttered, running his fingers along the center of your backside, over the curve of your ass to rest a hand on your rear that was covered in the black towel.
“Here, it needs my attention.”
You were shocked and in disbelief, instantly becoming speechless; but despite your bewilderment, Miguel continued talking. “It’ll only make sense to massage where I'll be working. It’ll help loosen the muscles of your rear, making tattooing it less painful.” He explained, but it still didn’t stop the huge blush that spread across your face. You didn’t know how to respond, stuck between your own uncertainties and desires.
“T-this will be… beneficial?” You asked shakingly, trying to push past the naughty and erotic things that were filling your head. Miguel hummed. “Yes, I’ll be tattooing your left buttock, so it’ll help make the tattoo process smoother…
For you, I mean.”
You bit your lip. The butterflies, going rampant in your stomach. You didn’t know what to do or what to say, but then the realization that he was going to have to see and touch your bottom anyway when the actual inking process began led you to put your worries to the side and agree.
“No. I don’t mind.” You said, thankful that Miguel couldn’t see how red you were due to your face being away from him. Miguel hummed, his previous touch seeming to linger upon your skin.
“I’ll have to remove the towel. You okay with that?” He asked, which made your heart skip a beat. You shakingly exhaled, nodding. “Yes.”
You felt him lift the black towel from your bottom, the cool air rushing over your bare rear. You sucked in a breath as before, Miguel didn’t warn you, his warm hands groping your cheeks and instantly beginning to knead the fat of your ass.
This time, the sensations were different.
On your backside, the massage was more relaxing and tranquil, but on your rear, it felt more personal, more…
Intimate.
His touch made you feel pleasure beyond anything…
You bit your bottom lip harshly, trying to muffle the erotic cries that wished to escape whilst Miguel’s calloused hands worked wonders on your rear. His fingers pressed firmly into your left cheek, squeezing the fat before moving along the sides. It was a process that you pondered if it was professional or not, but it wasn’t like you cared.
His fingers knead into your soft flesh, like dough, making you see stars every single time. You were slowly becoming wet, your arousal spilling from your exposed sex to gradually coat your thighs and drench the gray towels underneath you.
The massage was good.
Dangerously too good…
A sudden moan broke free, filling the tattoo room when he roughly groped both of your cheeks in his large hands, spreading them apart. You instantly blushed horribly, embarrassed beyond anything.
“O-Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry.” You briskly replied, wanting nothing more than to hide. You didn’t know how the hell Miguel would react.
Would he cease his wonderful massage?
Tell you to leave?
Would things get hella awkward now?
You felt like a complete idiot, mentally facepalming yourself for giving into the pleasure of a total stranger.
But to your surprise, Miguel did something you weren’t expecting.
He chuckled.
For the first time since you met the menacing and large Latino artist, he showed an emotion that didn’t make you feel so freaking intimidated. The sound of the small, deep laughter that passed his lips was honestly breathtaking, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again.
“No need to apologize.” He replied, drawing your attention back to him and his wonderful massage. His touch on your rear became more soft and gentle like he was taking his time with you.
“It just shows I’m providing you what your body needs.” He replied, moving his hands onto your thighs, caressing them with his thumbs before running his hands up to fully cup your asscheeks into his hands. You moaned softly, your body instinctively arching up into his waiting palms. Miguel snickered, giving your ass another squeeze when everything stopped.
His movement on your rear ceased, his small laughs, movement, everything!
You lay there, waiting for anything to happen when you suddenly felt his pierced lips against your ear.
“Let’s drop the act, Cariño.”
He whispered, his breath warm on your face and his piercings, cold against your skin. Your heart dropped, and your body instantly became hot.
You tried to speak, to deny what he was saying, but your quivering lips wouldn’t form the words.
He snickered at your speechlessness and how flustered you were, the sound sending tingles throughout your entire being and going straight to your throbbing core.
“Let me relax you how we both desire, Y/N.”
He hummed, resuming his touch on your rear, but this time it was different. It was purposefully more erotic. He gave your bottom a sensual squeeze with one hand, his other moving up to stroke your hair.
You couldn’t believe this was happening.
It felt surreal.
Something you'll fantasize about your sexy tattooist…
But Miguel’s fingers running through your hair, massaging your scalp whilst continuing to tease and knead your right asscheek with his fingers made you think otherwise.
You were speechless yet again. You didn’t know how to respond, but your body was doing the speaking for you.
Your juices dripping down your thighs and soaking the gray towels under you, spoke volumes on its own. You shakingly exhaled, trying to calm your excitement.
Miguel chuckled, his fingers continuing their tantalizing play on your rear, tempting and taunting you to give in to the sexy artist.
You bit your lip harshly, eyes fluttering as he, teasingly, brushed his thumb across your slick folds. You gasped at his attempt to entice you more.
“Mmm, you are soaking, Muneca.” He growled against your ear, his lip rings brushing your lobe and making you shudder. He sucked in a breath, running his fingers up and down your slick folds, coating his digits in your never-ending arousal. He groaned at your wetness, cupping your mound, to circle his two fingers around your sensitive bud. You moaned helplessly, trembling with pleasure.
“Muneca, you want this, just as much as I do.” He uttered, pressing his fingers more against your throbbing bud, eliciting a cry to escape your lips and making you wetter.
“Let me relax you.” He whispered, his deep voice filled with desire as he removed his hands to place them on your hips, caressing gentle circles against your sides.
“Let me taste what this pussy of yours is like and then I'll tattoo that rose on your gorgeous ass.”
He proposed once again. His words alone made your stomach clench in want. The gray towels underneath you completely soak with your arousal.
You couldn't stop yourself. The desire blinded you as your head slowly nods at his erotic proposition.
“P-Please.” You practically begged; voice tainted with desperation for more of him. You felt his pierced lips pull into a smirk against your ear.
“Good girl, Y/N.” He praised, nipping softly at your ear before pulling away. His touch left you cold and empty.
“On your knees. Ass up.”
He commanded, his coldness resurfacing right before your eyes. His sternness was even more attractive and made your core throb in anticipation.
You bit your lip, lust blinding your every action, thought, and word as you rose on the tattoo chair. As he instructed, you stood up on your knees and forearms with your ass thrust up into the air.
The cool air continuously brushed along your heated core, making your breathing hitch every time. The position gave him a full display of your wet folds and the gradual drip of your arousal down your thighs. The sight alone revealed your evident desire for him which made you excited, but also ashamed.
This sexy stranger was intimidating, scary, and someone you would, normally, never align yourself with.
So what was different about him that had you practically soaking his chair?
In your peripherals, you saw Miguel move. The mere motion snapped you out of your thoughts as his massive being disappeared from view. Instantly, you became anxious, oblivious to his next actions.
A sexy groan escaped his lips, feeling his amber eyes trained on your exposed sensitive area. “That's a pretty pussy you got that.” He purred, making you blush horribly. You buried your face into your inner elbow, embarrassed for liking the compliment from someone as sexy as him.
Miguel chuckled. “Does someone like my praises? You are a naughty one, Cariño.”
He snickered. Your face, reddening even more. His fingers continued their dance along the skin of your ass, your breathing becoming more shaky and your body burning hot.
His words and touch alone were enough to make you lose control. Beads of your essence running down your thighs.
“Cariño, I've only known you for about 30 minutes, yet, there is something about you that fascinates me. Something that I love so very fucking much….
Want to know what that is?”
He asked, his voice deep and husky, yet sending a shiver down your spine; his fingers ghosting along your skin. “Y-Yes.” You shakingly inquired, curious about his answer, but also anxious for him to cease his teasing and touch you.
He chuckled at your cluelessness, running his nails along your bare rear making you shiver.
“I love that despite your obvious hesitance and, dare I say, fear, you give into your wants, Muñeca
Your desires.”
He uttered, the pads of his fingers barely touching you, but forming goosebumps, everywhere along your skin.
“I-I don't understand.” You breathlessly and honestly replied, trying your hardest to look over your shoulder at the large male but failing every time.
“You don't understand, bebé?” He purred, his fingers leaving your bottom. “Then let me turn those gears in that sexy head of yours.” He whispered, his heavy footfalls slowly walking to stand in front of you. You gulped, glancing up to see him right before you, the growing bulge in his black jeans being the main attraction.
“You come into my shop for an ass tat, yet you were nervous as hell to get it.” He acknowledged. “But despite your nerves, here you are on my chair with that sexy ass all ready for me." He said with a smirk. His hand moved to run through your hair, massaging your scalp with the pads of his fingers once more.
Your eyes fluttered, sinking more into the soft leather, your rear rising. “And even now, I intimidate you, don't I, Cariño?” He asked, his male cologne and the faint scent of cigarette smoke filling your nose, increasing your desire for him.
Regardless of your lust, Miguel did intimidate you. His massive body, bulging muscles, stern-drawn face, tattoos, lip rings, and cold aura made you nervous around him.
That you couldn't lie about...
“Y-yes. You do.” You confessed, eliciting a deep hum from Miguel. “Yet, you are giving yourself to me.” He whispered, moving his hand from your hair to take your chin into his calloused fingers. He turned you to look up at him, your eyes darting to take in his chiseled cheeks, massive neck tattoo, enticing rings on his plush lips, smoldering amber eyes, and dark brown hair that loomed over his eyes.
He smirked, his canines peeking out from his lips. “You are delivering yourself to me on a silver platter, Y/N.” He rasped, caressing your chin and holding your stunned gaze before pulling away. You were left breathless, gasping for air, you didn't know you were holding.
You tried to track him, his huge, menacing form returning behind you and out of your sight. “So love, despite your worries, reluctance, and inner thoughts telling you to stop and turn back.
If you desire something, you go through with it...”
Your eyebrows furrowed. You wondered if Miguel's observation of you was correct.
Were you the type to follow your desires, even though everything in you was telling you otherwise?
You pondered, if the sexy stranger was right, despite only knowing you for a short time.
But that thought soon became nothing but mush in your brain when his sudden grip on your asscheeks made your entire mind go blank. As if dipped in warmth, your body instantly melted like chocolate under his fingertips, a soft moan escaping your lips.
Miguel hummed, his breath brushing along your heated core, only making you wetter.
“And I love a woman that knows what she wants,” He uttered, pressing a kiss to your left ass cheek, making you gasp,
“What she needs…” He whispered, pressing another kiss to your other eliciting another soft moan from you.
“I can tell you are going to be tasty…”
He rasped before finally giving you what you desired and swiping his tongue along your folds.
You cried out, slumping against the tattoo chair whilst Miguel licked at your rear. He groaned, squeezing your ass and pressing his face more into your bottom, licking, sucking and completely devouring you.
You moaned uncontrollably, gripping the leather seat tightly. “O-Oh gosh.” You whimpered as Miguel continued his pleasurable assault, running his skillful hands up and down your spine, brushing your shirt up to feel more of your skin. You were becoming hot and increasingly wet, your love juices spilling from your entrance to be swallowed by Miguel’s eager mouth.
With every suction of his lips and the swipe of his tongue, it made your mind complete mush, time and space becoming non-existent. “So delicious, Muñeca.” He groaned, sloppily ravaging your core, and fucking you with his tongue.
The tattoo room was filled with your whines and whimpers, Miguel’s low groans, and the squelching of your wet pussy. Your entire body was clenching and squirming the closer you got to that sweet end.
Like his hands, Miguel’s mouth worked wonders on you. His tongue moved rapidly across your pussy, seeming to be everywhere at once. Swirling your throbbing bud, thrusting into your entrance, and lapping your delicate pussy lips. a
When it came too much to bear, Miguel held you close, preventing you from moving away from him. It only made you tremble, the pleasure consuming your entire being.
“M-Miguel, I-I’m close.” You cried out, pressing your face into the tattoo chair. He hummed, the vibrations rumbling through you and making your stomach tighten even more. “You want to cum, pretty girl?” He chuckled, moving from your desired spot to kiss along the skin of your bottom. His hooped, lip rings brushed along the skin of your ass and made you even more wetter.
You moaned softly, frantically nodding. “Yes, yes. Please, Miguel.” You whined, wanting him to bring you to your release. You felt his pierced lips pull into a smirk. He pressed a kiss to your right cheek before returning his skilled mouth to your puffy pussy lips once more.
You gasped loudly, his tongue darting erratically along your dripping folds. The feeling was more extreme than ever before as he continued, tugging and lapping at your sweet pussy.
You were so wet, your thighs dripping with your arousal like a relentless rain, its non-stop downpour completely soaking your legs and the gray towels underneath you. You gritted your teeth, the burning in the pit of your stomach becoming too much to bear, begging for a release.
Everything felt so good, you wanted to hold on, to feel more of Miguel’s tongue and hands that roamed your body, caressing you in ways that increased the pleasure by 10-fold;
But you just couldn’t…
With a loud cry, you climaxed hard onto his waiting mouth. Your vision saw white, eyes rolling as your sticky juices covered his pierced lips and ran down your legs. Miguel groaned in pleasure, gripping your cheeks harshly, widening you and licking you clean, whispering, 'So good. Such a good girl for me,’ over and over again.
It was like music to your ears.
Your eyes fluttered as he finished; tugging away from your pussy lips with a wet plop. You were dazed, falling flat against the tattoo chair, and trying to calm your breathing and come down from your epic high.
Faintly, you could hear Miguel’s boots against the black marble flooring, moving around to stand beside you, coming into view once more.
With glazed eyes, you looked over at him, breathing heavily. His chin and pierced lips were completely covered in your arousal. Like a king who had just feasted on a buffet fit for royalty, he used his fingers to wipe it off in satisfaction. “So delicious, Muñeca.” He praised again with a smirk. Your entire body and face flushed at his erotic compliment. You were speechless, not at all knowing how to respond.
For a moment you just stared up at him, still trying to figure out if what just happened, happened.
His amber eyes roamed over your form once more, lingering on your bare rear longer than anything else. He growled, stepping closer once more. “But don’t think we’re done here, Muñeca.”
“I want more.
Just one more taste”
He uttered, the words surprising you, but not as surprising as what he did next…
Everything was a blur, his large being moved so quickly it was hard to follow, especially in your dazed state.
You soon found him underneath you on the tattoo chair, his massive body laying under you and your puffy pussy lips right over his waiting mouth. His large hands roughly groping your rear, and holding you tightly in place.
Certainly, you wouldn't be able to get out of his hold, even if you tried.
You gulped, staring down at him between your thighs in shock. Your mind, not keeping up fast enough. “M-Miguel, w-what-”
“Let me relax you, chica.”
He cut you off, gripping your ass in his large, inked hands and pushing you down onto his mouth once more. You cried out, his mouth even more intense than ever.
Your eyes fluttered and rolled as his tongue circled your clit, teasingly applying more pressure and making you whine. Your fingers, instinctively, found his dark brown hair, gripping and tugging at the chocolate strands and making Miguel groan.
He caressed your bottom with his large, calloused hands, sucking at your sensitive bud with his hot, wet mouth, expertly flicking it. You moaned helplessly. “M-Miguel, g-gosh. It feels so good.” You cried out, instinctively, grinding your hips against his mouth, chasing another steady rising climax. Miguel's eyes fluttered close, savoring your taste on his tongue as he lapped and sucked at your sticky folds.
Your breathing quickened, his piercings grazing against your sensitive skin with every lap of his tongue against your entrance. You were slowly losing it, feeling him gradually ease his tongue inside of you before thrusting you repeatedly with the wet muscle.
You moaned loudly, rutting your hips and continuously brushing his nose into your clit, his tongue continuing its torment. A strangled moan erupted from your throat, the pleasure becoming too much. You shook uncontrollably, gripping his hair tightly and squirming on his mouth.
“A-Ahh, Miguel, I-I can’t-” You tried moving off, but Miguel firmly held you down on his mouth, his tongue, darting in and out of your entrance, fucking you with his warm, wet muscle.
The familiar feeling of scorching heat began to rise in your stomach. You gritted your teeth, his metal ringed, lip piercings brushing against your pussy lips with each suckle. He reached around, parting your lips and sticking his tongue deeply into your opening, messily lapping and sucking you.
Your love juices soaked his lips and chin to be sloppily devoured by Miguel. The room was filled with the erotic sounds of your pussy’s squelches. Silent moans passed your lips, as your head limply fell back to be caught by Miguel’s large hand.
He took your chin in his tattooed finger, pulling you back down towards him. He moved his mouth from your heated core as his intense dark eyes met yours. “I want your eyes on me.” He said, his breathing rather stable, despite almost drowning in your pussy for what felt like an hour. His tattooed hand caressed your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.
“I want to see you cum, Muñeca .” He whispered, pressing kisses along your inner thighs and nipping softly. You bit your lip, a soft moan passing your lips at his pecks. You weakly nodded, almost completely dazed.
He smirked, pressing a long searing kiss to your thigh. “Hmm, good girl.” He uttered parting your pussy lips with two thick fingers and attacking your swollen clit once more. It took everything in you to keep his intense gaze. His dark brown eyes stared intently back at you whilst his tongue and lips moved in a frenzy along your pussy.
Your body trembled horribly, fingers gripping his hair tightly to stabilize yourself.
“M-Miguel.” You whined his name over and over again. The desire to tell him of your reached peak was on the tip of your tongue, but the pleasure was too overwhelming; leaving you unable to say such a thing as your release unexpectedly slammed into you.
With a loud strangled moan, you orgasmed for the second time.
Your body shook uncontrollably as your thighs squeezed around Miguel tightly. Your juices gushed out onto his eager mouth whilst a sensation of pure bliss sprouted throughout your being.
Your eyes rolled as silent and breathy moans busted from the depth of your chest. Miguel didn’t cease his torment, continuing to suckle on your puffy pussy lips, swallowing all of your sweet nectar. His lips and chin were completely drenched in a mixture of saliva and your love juices, but it didn’t seem as if the massive tattooist cared.
Until he was satisfied, Miguel continued to slurp messily at you. You were highly sensitive, squirming on his mouth and whimpering uncontrollably as he held you down with a firm grip on your thighs. When his thirst was satiated, you were relieved to hear a deep hum of delight escape his glistening lips and soon feel him effortlessly lift you from his mouth to rest your bare bottom on his clothed chest.
You were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath. When you finally came down from your high, you glanced up to see his dark eyes peering back at you. His gaze was intense and stern as always, but your attention instantly went down to his mouth and the mess you’ve made upon it.
His tanned lips and piercings glistened with your arousal. Your essence dripping down to coat the entirety of his chin. Your entire face burned up at the sight.
“Oh my gosh, I’m s-so sorry.” You hastily apologized, still a little jittery from your explosive orgasm. You reached over to grab the black towel that was left discarded on his stool to try to clean him up.
“Don’t.”
He simply stated, capturing your wrist in his large hand to halt your movement. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching him take the towel from you and toss it to the side.
You were confused, your eyes taking in his mouth and chin that was still covered in your juices. His pierced lips pulled into a smirk, his hands moving to caress your bare ass.
“I want to taste all of it, Muñeca. I'm not letting none of you go to waste…”
For the next hour or so, the room was filled with the buzzing of a tattoo gun and Miguel’s deep voice occasionally trying to soothe you.
“Beautiful Muñeca. You are doing well.”
“I promise you, this rose will look good on you when I’m done.”
“Just a little longer, I’m almost finished.”
He whispered, his gloved fingers pressing into your flesh as he applied the last finishing strokes of black ink onto the rose on your rear. You bit your lip harshly, gripping the leather cushion when finally, the buzzing of the tattoo gun ceased. The needle, no longer, harshly pricking of your sensitive skin.
“I’m finished, Muñeca.” He said, placing the gun to the side and soothingly, caressing your waist. You exhaled a sigh of relief, your eyes a little teary.
“You did well, Cariño.” He praised once more, proceeding to clean the tattoo, applying an antiseptic ointment and covering it, all whilst speaking to you.
“Although, you’ve surprised me.” He said with a chuckle. “I thought you’d become a crying little mess on my chair.” He teased, making the two of you laugh. “I won’t lie, I thought so too.” You confessed, feeling him finish up putting a protective sterile bandage over your freshly inked tattoo.
“I wouldn’t have let that happen on my watch.” He said with a smirk, motioning to you with a finger for you to stand up. “Carefully.” He sternly said, giving you a pointed look. His voice had its usual coldness but also held a hint of affection in his tone.
That maybe the sexy tattooist might actually care about you.
You gave him a small smile, watching him begin to pack up his tattoo items and place them back into his closet. You followed Miguel’s words, cautiously rising up and off of the chair. You winced softly, your left cheek a little sore.
You walked over to the body mirror in Miguel’s tattoo room, turning around to admire the fresh inking on your rear through its sterile bandage.
It was beautiful…
Just like you thought.
The black rose was wonderfully sketched and etched onto your rear end. Its petals, pistils, and leaves, were all defined perfectly and coated the entirety of your left cheek.
You couldn’t stop looking at it, finding something else about it that you loved.
Large hands settled on your waist, snapping your attention from your tattooed bottom to up at the hot male through the mirror. He smirked, meeting your gaze through the glass. “It’s sexy, isn’t it?” He asked, caressing your sides as you smiled, nodding.
“You did really well, Miguel.” You complimented, both of your eyes, taking in the intricate linings of the rose on your rear. “I’m happy you like it.” He said, cupping your chin in his fingers to turn you to look up at him.
“But make sure you properly treat it every day. I’ll send you a list of aftercare instructions.” He said, his amber eyes taking in your face whilst he spoke. You bit your lip, nodding. “I will.” You replied. He smirked, glancing down at your lips before meeting your eyes once more.
“Good, now kiss me.” He said in his cold tone, but his amber eyes held a look of fondness in them. You smiled, cupping his face in your hands and leaning in to press your lips against his.
You moaned softly upon the impact, his metal lip rings, smooth and cold, only making the kiss even hotter. You passionately kissed his lips, savoring the feeling of his lip rings and the taste of his plush lips against your own.
When the two of you pulled away, breathing heavily from the heated exchange, he smirked, squeezing your waist before stepping back. “I hate to tell you this, but I have a client in the next 10 minutes.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I’ll see you next time, Muñeca, for your check-up.” He smirked, handing you a business card with his contacts and the address of the Bloody Inks on it.
You smiled, taking the card from him, your hands touching during the small interaction that sent a spark straight through your being.
You couldn’t help but wonder if Miguel felt it too…
There was an unmistakable pull that was drawing you towards him. You didn’t want to leave him, despite only meeting him that day.
The desire to snuggle up in his muscular arms, to feel his touch on you once more was overwhelming, but he was right.
It was time for you to depart…
So after carefully getting dressed back into your panties and black shorts, you pressed one final kiss upon the sexy tattooist’s pierced lips. The kiss oddly felt unending, but not long enough when you finally pulled away from each other, leaving you, even more, hungrier for him than before.
You exited out of his room, walking through the tattoo space of the shared artists of Gwen and Hobie who thanked you for coming, to then leave the tattoo parlor altogether.
You walked down the sidewalk, feeling like a completely different person. You twirled the business card that Miguel gave you in between your fingers. A feeling of bursting adoration for the beautiful inking that adorned your left cheek, knowing it was created by the sexy tattooist.
To you, the stunning piece of art wasn’t just a tattoo.
No…
It was the marking of a memory of a day when a serious, cold, sexy, and dedicated artist came into your life, revealing a different side of yourself- a daring, more confident side that would forever be engraved in your mind.
As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel excited to see the sexy tattooist again, anxious for all the fun you and Miguel would get up to on your next visit to the Bloody Inks…
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed 'The Black Rose.' Make sure to like, comment, follow, and reblog!! Love you guys!
<3 Taglist:
@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedevax @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywattyy @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages
(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)
#miguel o'hara#spider man 2099#across the spiderverse#the blue panther#miguel ohara#miguel#miguel smut#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel x fem!reader#miguel o hara#atsv miguel#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel x reader#miguel x y/n#spiderman 2099#astv miguel#miguel x you#miguel x reader smut
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bluecollar!reiner headcannons
word count: 725 [ 2 min 40 sec read] | ✪ content warnings: smut, kitchen sex, blue collar men :/ but a good one, p in v sex in general, fingering.. uhhh
bluecollar!reiner x black!reader / constructionworker!reiner x black!reader
✭ you and your blonde-headed personal bob the builder
bluecollar!reiner who does construction and pools.
bluecollar!reiner who sleeps like a LOG. like, has rolled over ontop of you on multiple instances and it’s taken having to literally slap him to wake him up.
bluecollar!reiner who absolutely throws down at cookouts and get togethers, you and your friends and family are just so good in the kitchen and babyboy needs to EAT.
bluecollar!reiner who works so hard because his favorite view of you is on a beach, or poolside at a fancy resort taking his cock in a risky, barely covered blind spot.
bluecollar!reiner who, 8/10 times cannot sleep without your manicured fingers scrubbing at his scalp or smooth palms scanning over his body and rubbing soothing circles.
bluecollar!reiner who sometimes brings you small bouquets if the landscape of the construction site he’s on has some pretty ones for the taking.
bluecollar!reiner who saved the petals from those flowers and proposed to you surrounded by them.
bluecollar!reiner who walks so hard for literally no reason. :/ like, he comes home late after pushing through the end of his customers pool build and i stg you think the rapture is occurring. it took you a few months of dating to get used to the fe-fi-fo-fum ass walking he does but even sometimes he still manages to wake you up.
reiner finally emerges in the bedroom after putting away his lunch box and heavy work boots to see his poor poor fiancé glaring at him from underneath a pillow.
“i woke ya’ didn’t i?”
“yes mister braun. you did.😐”
bluecollar!reiner who does that thing in the gym where he uses you as a weight for his pull ups sometimes. your lock screen is a photo of you smiling as reiner is doing a pull-up and you can see his abs on full display overhead.
bluecollar!reiner who looks forward to the massages you give him every night, working out the knots in his shoulder blades, soothing the aches in his biceps..
bluecollar!reiner who thanks you for the massages by doing you one better:
the plat plat plat of his dick sliding in and out of you resonates through the room, and your back is arching off the wall. reiner was supposed to be carrying you back to bed after a show and a massage on the couch, but here you are only halfway down the hall and coating his dick in cream.
“please please kiss me” you plead, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten and swell.
he huffs a little and between your deep kisses you can feel the stubble of his beard.
“reiiiii ‘m gonna cummmm” you whine, looking at him with that hazy glint in your eyes as you release on him.
“good girl, so so good for me doll.”
bluecollar!reiner who’s socials are empty besides a few photos of you or you and him and MAYBE a selfie.
bluecollar!reiner who you send video rants to throughout the day to keep him company while he works. he responds with videos of his own if he can.
you open the video reiner sent twenty minutes ago.
he’s propped his phone up on the back of his truck, his work shirt is absolutely covered in wet cement so as he’s responding to whatever you said in your previous video, he’s taking off his shirt and putting on a new one.
“.. oh yeah and lunch was amazing. not burnt or overcooked. thank you princess.”
his video ends after a quick wink and pop of his gum. meanwhile, you’re thinking about the way reiner was far from concerned about his lunch while you were trying to make it. he had you bent over the counter, knuckle deep in your cunt and tongue circling your clit. reiner wasn’t focused on anything besides the way your wetness was dripping down his arm, but you’re busy struggling to keep tell him about the food on the stove.
“r-rei baby.. i have- fuck.. i have your lunch for t-tomorrow- ah.. on the stoveee.”
“uh-huh.. god this pussy is so fucking delicious.” he says, only coming up for air for a brief second and continuing to ravage you.
bluecollar!reiner who has a photo of you on the dashboard of his work truck.
bluecollar!reiner who loves letting you ride him slow while he talks over the plans and spreadsheets for the next big project he has.
bluecollar!reiner who loves you to the moon and back and will build anything for you.
#aot au#reiner smut#aot reiner#reiner brainrot#reiner x y/n#reiner headcanons#reiner imagine#reiner imagines#attack on titan reiner#reiner fluff#reiner x you#reiner x reader#reiner x black reader#reiner braun#he’s mine#he’s so sweet#reiner braun x reader
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Print Shop UK: Unveiling the Printing Services at Printnasium
In the fast-paced digital age, where online presence is paramount, the importance of high-quality printing services cannot be overstated. Printnasium, a leading Print Shop in the UK, stands at the forefront of providing top-notch printing solutions. Whether you're looking to promote your business with eye-catching marketing materials or create custom apparel with print on T-shirts, Printnasium has you covered.
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Print Shop UK is a competitive market, but Printnasium sets itself apart by prioritizing customer service. The website features a responsive customer support team ready to assist users at every step of the printing process. Whether you have questions about file formats, need design advice, or require assistance with order tracking, Printnasium's support team is there to help.
In addition to their Print On T-Shirt service, Printnasium offers a range of printing options to cater to various needs. Their commitment to quality extends beyond T-shirts to encompass business stationery, promotional materials, and more. The versatility of Printnasium makes it a one-stop destination for all printing requirements in the UK.
In conclusion, Printnasium stands as a beacon in the Print Shop UK landscape, offering a seamless blend of quality, creativity, and efficiency. Whether you're a business looking to make a lasting impression or an individual aiming to create personalized T-shirts, Printnasium is the go-to platform for unlocking the potential of print. With their user-friendly interface, diverse printing services, and a commitment to customer satisfaction, Printnasium is undoubtedly a leader in the world of printing in the UK.
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Happy St. Patrick's Day!
There are holidays that I'm convinced the world doesn't need… St. Patrick's Day, for example. I think it's perfectly fine to be proud of your heritage. I mean, I have an Italian grandmother. I'm totally proud of that. She makes the best pasta in the world. Hehehe, if you look at my belly, you can tell.
You see St. Patrick's Day parades on every channel. It's pure brainwashing! I look at my stomach again… Maybe I'll use the day to do something for my fitness. The streets are full of happy people. Intrusively cheerful people with funny green hats.
The guy at reception is wearing a green T-shirt. And has a shamrock painted on his cheek. I could puke. "Hi mate, nice to see you. Not much going on today. But we'd like to take a few pictures for social media later. Something along the lines of today-we've-trained-in-green. Would you wear this tank top for training?" He holds something green out to me. Fortunately without a shamrock or a funny gnome. It looks like a rugby jersey. Maybe a little big. I smile painfully. "Mate, give yourself a jolt! I'll give you a protein flat rate and free training for three months!" You don't care about the protein flat rate. But free training for three months… You'll save a good 150 dollars. Then it won't be so bad that you come here so rarely.
"Come on, give it to me!" you say and give him a fist bump. Fist bump? What's wrong with you today? All right… Put on your jersey, half an hour on the cross trainer, then maybe a bit of chest training. And then that should be it. And if you absolutely have to post pictures of it. You go to the changing area. Yawning emptiness. Exactly to your taste, actually! You undress, put on the sweatpants and then the jersey. You take a quick look in the mirror. An overweight quarter-Italian in a green rugby jersey. You doubt that this will bring the gym even one new follower, let alone a customer.
You usually start on the cross trainer with low resistance. Today you can try something new. It's empty, no one is watching, you can't embarrass yourself. So you go to the rowing machine. You have no experience with that. So you hit the maximum resistance. And off you go! After half an hour, you wipe the sweat from your forehead. Your jersey sticks to your chest, soaked with sweat. The gym employee stands in front of you with a grin. "Bro, those were some really awesome shots! What are you up to now?" You grumble that rowing is a good base for lat training. And that you're currently doing antagonist training. So combine it with chest training. "Nice, that should make for great pictures." You don't give a damn that the camera is following you the whole time. Focus on the training. And finally, no consideration for others. Moan and grunt when you feel like it. And today you're lifting the heavy weights. That requires a loud scream or two.
Shit, you've been here for almost three hours. You're done. You shout to your gym's social media representative that it's time for the final show. You take off your slightly too tight jersey with some difficulty. And wring out the sweat. You smile at the camera and say "Happy St. Patrick's Day, bros! Stay focused and train hard!" Your buddy gives you a fist bump and says it was a lot of fun with you again. You hand him your cell phone and ask him for a photo. For your own account.
Caption: "Is as Éirinn a thagann fir réadúla i gcónaí! Buailigí, a chairde, agus go raibh Lá Fhéile Pádraig iontach agaibh!"
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Collect calls. jailbird pt. 2 of 3
3600, cellmate's nephew!Joel x inmate f!reader
brilliant edit by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog. custom tats!
SUMMARY: You kinda try to be careful over the phone, but you want each other too bad. So it's hard. Rock hard. Joel sends you a short letter and comes to visit again. Follows Jailbird, but this is 69% dirty talk (I did the math). You can prob read alone. PT 3 of 3 is Parole.
WARNINGS: I8+ SO HORNY, hella dirty talk from both, phone sex, mild degradation/teasing, tension, masturbation, Joel is a slut and mentions getting blown, creative mail. Barely edited horny chaos but I wanna feed ya and this ain't fine dining.
A/N: Part 2 of 3. Thank you for the love on Jailbird! And THANK YOU @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the amazing edit omg. Make sure you see the Jojo gif 🥵 His specific tattoos and all 😍
joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs. PART 3 HERE.
When you got back from visitation, your cellmate Mabel's face lit up. She was excited to hear about it, but when she looked you over, she said, “Oh boy, it’s worse than I thought. . . I’m gonna go play spades, honey. You do what ya need to do.”
You shook your head, “Mabel. . .”
“Take your time,” she said with a wink. "Not that you'll need it." Then she stood up and stretched before leaving the cell.
You got in your bed, on your side, under the blanket. You clenched your thighs together looking at the picture of a slightly younger him with not nearly as much silver in his beard. You put your pillow between your legs, rolled over so you were mostly stomach-down, and your hips moved as you put your head in the crook of your arm and recalled the way he looked at you, his strong hands, his tattoos. His voice. You wondered what it sounded like when it wasn’t through a telephone, but god damn, it did something to you. “ain’t nothin’ harder than mine, baby.” Fuck.
You were already getting close, wouldn’t even need to use your hand at this rate. You thought about the way his arm flexed as his hand moved in his lap. Oh God, the bulge and outline in his jeans when he stood up. The way he adjusted himself. He might be too big for you to take all of him, but god damn, you'd give it your best shot. You rubbed yourself against your pillow to the rhythm of his hand rubbing his lap in your mind, clenched your thighs again and you came, whining "Jojo" into your elbow. You heard it too many times a day to get it out of your head – He told you to call him Joel, but Mabel made it somewhat difficult.
---
He was hot as fuck, but it was also cute how close he and Mabel were. It made him seem like a good guy, even though neither of them were particularly upstanding members of society. You supposed neither were you by most standards, but it’s not like any of you had ever intentionally hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. That you knew of. The fact that Jojo served time was hot and also put you at ease. It had to have been a while based on the spiderweb, unless he was just trying to look hard, but he didn’t seem the type to bullshit anything. How did you even know what type he was though? You hardly knew him? You dreaded Mabel’s teasing but you could withstand it in order to find out more.
You got off once more while you were at it, taking advantage of the privacy. Then you sat up, rested against the wall, and just looked at the picture. Unfolded, you looked at both of them. It was so sweet. He looked happy. His hand on her shoulder had the spade tattoo. Your eyes fell on your own poke-and-stick clover from Mabel and your stomach fluttered when you saw the flared stem and circular leaves. It might as well have been a Club. “Mabel,” you muttered and shook your head.
While she was still playing Spades, you went over to her bed to look at the other photos up close. In another picture, they were at a barbecue in a parking lot. Joel was on the left and Mabel was on the right. Joel was wearing a wifebeater and Mabel was wearing a black t-shirt with a carousel pony on the right pocket.
You hadn’t noticed before, but there were a few women in swimsuits and aprons in the background. One of them was looking at Jojo. Who wouldn’t? Mabel’s words echoed in your mind — of course he’d like you. You’ve got a cunt and you’re not bad lookin'. you rolled your eyes. Shit. You resolved to put yourself in pro mode and try to detach.
—--
Over the next week, you spoke with him several times on the phone. You tried to be careful. You wren’t sure if all calls were reviewed or it was just by sample. You figured it would be suspicious to ask. You hoped whoever listened didn’t mind some harmless horny talk. The only stuff they should really care about should be scheming. Like making moves and putting out hits from the inside. Or smuggling from the outside.
—---
He answered the phone, “There she is.” A vaguely endearing greeting since you and Mabel called from the same collect number.
“Hey handsome,” you responded.
“I was just thinkin’ about ya, jailbird.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” he said deeply then sighed. “Ya just missed it.” Good God, his voice.
“Missed–”
“C’mon, baby. Use that pretty head. How bout I’ll wait for ya tomorrow?”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah.”
“Just call at the same time.”
“Okay,” you agreed with a smile in your voice. “It was nice to see you the other day. . .”
“Oh, baby you got no idea,” he groaned. “I’m comin’ back next week.”
“Are they gonna let you back?” you giggled.
“They’ve gotta! I didn’t do nothin’.”
“You didn’t. . .you’re right. . .”
“Hey don’t give’em any ideas.”
"Right," you laughed.
"What are ya gonna do when ya get out?"
“In general? Try to find honest work, I guess.”
“Nothin’ dishonest ‘bout what you were doin’. But I hear ya, parole’s a bitch.”
“You on parole?”
“Nah, long time ago though.”
‘Yeah?”
“Kept my nose clean the whole damn time. Ended up back in the can anyway.”
"For what"
"Framed for fuckin' murder."
"What??"
"Relax, I was exonerated."
"No shit."
"Yeah." He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You ever danced?"
"Course I fuckin' danced"
"Where at?"
"In memphis."
"Oh, I dunno jack shit about that scene."
"Wasn't great."
"Guess that's where you uh, got your start though."
"Yeah."
"Well do what ya want but lemme know if ya need a gig."
'Thanks."
He sighed. "I know it sucks not gettin' any in there. "
"Yeah."
"Are ya? Gettin' any? Girls, guards?"
"No," you answered, looking over your shoulder. "Think I could tell ya if I was, though?"
"Shit, sorry."
"You gettin' any?"
"Oh I'm a straight up ho."
"Yeah?" You asked, intrigued. "Surprised I hadn't seen ya at the clinic," you teased.
"Cause I'm way the fuck 'cross town. Got our own clinic."
"Good for you." A pleasant surprise that he stayed clean.
"Yeah, on a first name basis. Make my girls go, too. Still wrap it most the time though."
"Your girls."
"Dancers."
"Right." Mabel had mentioned he worked at a club. "Well, at least one of us is gettin' some."
"Shit, I was gettin' some sugar the other night," he said. "Pretty little head between my legs 'n I was lookin' at your picture."
Your heart fluttered. "No shit," you laughed. "My picture, huh?"
"Ohh, you don't even know. I want it bad, sugar, and I ain’t even tasted it."
"Yeah?"
"Shit I prolly think about it as much as you do . . .and I've got a life."
"Who says I think about it?" You asked flirtatiously.
"I got ESP. Makes me tingle when ya do."
"Oh does it?"
"Ya think about me in the shower, in bed. . ."
You laughed. "And where do you think about me?"
"Fuckin' everywhere. I've gotta have ya, baby. So bad it hurts."
—----------
Whenever you came back to your cell after talking to Jojo, Mabel would leave to make a phone call or go to the common area to watch whatever outdated movie was playing in the common area. Often with a wink. She knew he got you all wound up.
—----------
You called him at the same time the next day.
"How's your week been," you asked.
"Hard," he said, then his voice became hornier. "So fuckin' hard. . . n' that's all you." You could hear his belt and zipper.
"Wish I could help."
“i'm sure ya can once you're out. If you wanna hang out sometime.” You heard a bottle click open then squirt.
You teasingly hummed as though thinking it over. "Mmmm. . . .I dunno, what would you wanna do?”
“I can pick ya up right from the slammer, ‘less ya got someone else.”
“I don’t.”
“Great, then we can just. . . i dunno, get to know each other,” he mused, then added at a lower pitch, “In the back seat of my whip. Stop off somewhere close.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Fuck yeah,” he said. “You don’t understand, baby. I’ve gotta see what’s under that garb.” His hand was sliding up and down his lubed up cock. “I’ve gotta feel it.”
Butterflies swarmed in your chest and you sighed.
“What were ya wearin’ when ya got picked up?”
“Well. . . you already know what I’m in for. . .”
"Damn right I do, and you're gonna find out."
You laughed – at visitation, he said you were in for it. .
"C’mon, jailbird. What were ya wearin.”
“A black microskirt"
"Mmm."
"Black mesh crop top"
"Yeahhh"
"Over a pink bra.”
“Ohhh, fuck,” he sighed. “Shoes?”
“Shit, I’m not–hmm." You tried not to overthink it. "Definitely platforms. Silver and clear, I think."
He gave a low whistle. "Sounds hot as shit."
“And fishnets. Shit, that's all I had,” you laughed. "Maybe you can bring me something else."
“God damn, that’s what I get to pick ya up in?”
“I mean, I wasn’t planning on the fishnets.”
“Commando in that skirt? Shit, that’s even better.” His breath grew heavier. "Fuck it, just sit on me while I drive," he murmured. "Yeah, fuckin' sit on *this* the whole drive–ugghh." As if avoiding the word cock would make this conversation passable.
You sighed and tried to hide your arousal from the Corrections Officer (CO) standing 8 ft away.
"Can't get it in ya soon enough, baby."
"Mmm," you said quietly. "Can't wait."
"Jailbird, you're fuckin killin' me." He moaned. "Hot as hell. . . fuck."
"You sure I can take it?"
"Fuck, I dunno, baby," he panted. "It's a lot."
"I could tell"
"Uugggghhh," He groaned and you heard his hand sliding faster on his dick. "And what'd ya think about that ?"
"Oh, I’m up for the challenge,” you cooed saucily. "Just get me nice 'n ready."
"You ready right now?"
"The second I heard your voice."
"Fuck, I gotta know what ya taste like"
"Mmm."
"Yeah," he panted.,"And when you're nice and ready, then what?"
You lowered your voice to a near whisper. "Oh, just fuckin' wreck me. Split me open, baby." All you could do was clench your thighs together.
"Ohhh god"
"Don't hold back"
"Ohh fuck–couldnt if I tried." He sighed.
You had lost all restraint and just prayed whoever reviewed this call would be cool.
"Just stuff me full of it," you whispered.
"Fuck, yeah."
"Stretch me out."
"Ohh yeah."
"Pound me so hard i can’t see straight."
"Shit." He moaned and his hand moved faster.
"And then? Fill me the fuck up. I wanna feel it."
"Fuck yeah," he panted "i'll be seepin' outta ya for days."
"Then you better fill me up again."
"Jesus, fuck–ohhh."
"Don't tell me you'd spill it this fast."
"Oh fuck you," he laughed in good humor. "I'm not spillin' shit." You could still hear his hand.
"Not even if I'm sittin' on ya while ya drive?"
"Not even."
"Not with one hand on the wheel and one on my tit?"
"Ohh fuck," he breathes. "No, no. . ."
"And I'm moanin' your name with every bump in the road?"
"Mmmm, fuck, baby."
"Oh ya like that?"
"Fuckin'--fuck–fuckin' love it."
"Wouldya mind slidin' that hand down between my legs?"
"Wherever ya want it, baby."
"Ugh, those big hands," you whispered. "I just know you can use'em."
"Fuckin' right I can," he panted.
"Hope ya don't finish while you're drivin' with me in your lap."
"All ya gotta do is sit still."
"Imagine the mess if you came."
"Fuck, baby," he sighed.
"Every time we hit a bump, more would spill out in your lap.”
“Ohh, fuck." Then a long, drawn out moan like he was coming. You were throbbing wildly.
"Knew ya were close," you laughed. Then you heard a heavy smack on his end of the line. Then there was nothing but breathing for a minute, then it sounded like he was writing.
"What are you doing now?"
"Addressing an envelope."
"You're not mailing me your–"
"No I'm not mailin' you my" he laughed, "Load."
"Just a letter?
"Yeah. . . Just a letter."
"Mmkay. . . How 'bout a picture?"
His tone was warm and flattered. "Oh I can throw in a pic. But it's not gonna be the kind ya *really* want."
"Booo," you pouted.
'Think you'll like it anyway."
"Yeah, I can fill in the rest."
Your time was up.
—-------
You went back to your cell and sighed as you sat down on your bed. Mabel started to leave but you said, "no, you're good." You'd rub one out later. You wanted to ask Mabel if he really liked you, but you wouldn't let yourself be vulnerable like that. You were still trying to detach.
"You're right, he's cool," you said.
"You like him, don't ya? He likes you, too.”
She reached under her mattress into the fitted sheet and got out her poke and stick supplies. “C’mere, let's just get it over with,” she said.
“What, uh, what do you wanna give me?”
"J. . . O. . ."
Your whole upper body heated up and you laughed under your breath, "Mabel." She was mostly kidding.
—-----------
Visitation day came and you weren't nervous, just excited. He was wearing a too-small, black softwash t-shirt, black jeans, and a chain.
“Be good,” the guard warned Joel as you picked up the phone on your side.
"Yes, officer,” Joel replied with a respectful nod, then sat down. You noticed his rings as he picked up his phone. “We gotta be good,” he said with a wink.
“So be good,” you told him vacantly as your eyes roamed his tattoos.
He stared at you for a few seconds, hungrily taking in the mundane sight of you in your garb. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.
“How’d ya get hotter? Chicks don’t get hotter in lock-up, much less in a week.”
“What, and men do? It’s in your head.”
“Well yeah, we work out like mad.”
“Guess you’ve got me there.”
“Not talkin’ 'bout your body. It’s bangin’, but, I mean–no makeup and you’re pretty as hell.”
You smiled and shrugged, "thanks," then whispered, "but I think you're just horny," with a wink. He returned the shrug.
A few seconds of silence passed as he checked you out. You salivated over his arms stretching his shirt. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Whatcha thinkin about?”
“I’m thinkin’ ya look like a slutty bouncer. . .You get this shit at Spirit Halloween?”
Joel chuckled. “Well . . . you know what *I’m* thinkin’ about.” His eyes glued to your chest.
Yeah, yeah, he’s gotta see what’s under that garb. “Yeah, you’ll see it, honey," you said.
It was a struggle knowing what to say–you wanted to “be good” and not get cut short, but you also wanted to indulge in your fantasies.
Joel asked, “Where ya wanna go when ya get out?”
“Anywhere. Got some place in mind?”
“Could take ya to my place. Mabel taught me a mean pot roast recipe.”
You smiled. “You’re makin' me hungry.”
“Oh I’m starvin’, baby.”
"Long drive?"
He exhaled with a puff of his cheeks. "It’ll feel long that day."
“I’m sure it will,” you purred, looking down as if you could see through the booth right to his cock. You wet your lips. “So what’s between here and home?”
He took a deep breath, thought for a second, and told you what highway it was.
“Oh, okay,” you nodded. “There’s a seven eleven right outside the gate here.
“There sure is," Joel nodded. "Clean bathrooms too. I checked on my way.”
“You did not.”
“I’m tellin’ ya," he nodded. "Stopped for gas. First thing I thought about. Swear I think about it as much as you do.”
“So what’s in the bathroom?”
“Steel handicap railing about hip height”
You raised your eyebrows, intrigued.
“Pretty sturdy to hold onto, or even sit on.” He looked over his shoulder “Like if someone needed a rest or whatever.” He rolled his eyes.
“Right," you said softly as you nodded.
"Diaper changin' thingy, too."
You scrunched your face up.
"Like if ya needed to bend over it and stretch your back.”
"Ah," you nodded. "Nah."
“Parking lot?”
“That close to here, it’s gotta be crawling with pigs.”
“Right,” he said in a trance, looking at your mouth.
“Alright, where else is there," you asked.
"Rest stop. They got picnic tables near the woods if ya need to, uh," he looked down, "Sit down," he said quieter, "n' take a rest."
"Oh, I won't want a rest." You slowly shook your head and your eyes lingered on his chain.
He groaned softly and rested his chin in his hand. He whispered, "You're killin' me here." He scratched his beard and you tingled at the sight of the silver patches, his pinky ring, his hand tattoos–the faded barbed wire. You sighed.
"You bein' good?" He asked.
"Yeah." You resigned yourself to harmless small talk for a few minutes, but it was obvious what you both were thinking about. There were long silences where you just stared at each other.
“Just a few more weeks and I’m yours,” you teased.
His eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows. “You serious?”
Oh, shit - you didn’t wanna scare him off. Really didn’t even mean it like that, but, you also didn’t mind the thought of him as a boyfriend.
You nodded and teased, “yours to do what you please.”
He blew out a puff of air. "God damn, baby. I don't think you know what’s comin’ your way.”
“Can’t wait to find out, though.”
“Oh, you’re gonna find out.” He dug his hand into his lap but didn’t move it. “Shit.”
“Sorry.”
“Never be sorry.”
The guard barked,”Hands where I can see’em,” and Joel obediently raised his hand and put both elbows on the table again.
"You ain't gonna want no one else again."
You rolled your eyes at his cockiness which actually turned you on.
"Don't say I didn't warn ya," he cautioned.
"Okay," you shrugged with a contemplative frown.
"Shit, I might be in the same boat." He swallowed and looked like he meant it. Like maybe you were doing something to him that hadn't been done.
"Get my letter yet?" Joel asked.
"No."
He smirked, then it faded as he checked you out for the hundredth time. He shook his head, sat back, and took a deep breath. "This is fuckin' torture."
"Then it's a good thing I waited til now to ask about ya."
"the best torture," he clarified, his forehead beginning to glisten. "I'm gonna fuckin explode when I'm back in my ride." He looked at the unopened box of tissues on his side of the booth, intended for crying visitors. "Thank God I didn't ride the hog." Fuck, he had a motorcycle, too? He held the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder while he opened the plastic on the box and tried to get the tissues started. Then he took three tissues out. Your breath hitched at the thought of his cum. Was it silky? Stringy? Watery? Sticky? What'd it taste like? Ugh.
"HANDS," the guard said when he saw Joel finish pocketing the tissues. The guard stepped forward. "Say goodbye, let's go."
"Fuck." Joel sighed and closed his eyes. "Sorry, jailbird."
When he stood up, you could see the outline of his hard dick on his thigh. You took a deep breath and pried your eyes off his crotch to briefly meet his eyes. He winked and you managed a small smile before eyes fell right back to his jeans as he adjusted himself. Fuck.
—---------------
Joel’s letter came a couple days later. A photo fell out of it. Black and white. He was sitting in a chair and smoking with one hand holding the cigarette up and his other hand resting between his legs. Arms blazing in a white t-shirt. Squinting at the camera. He looked hot as hell despite having all his clothes on. He looked like a model.
The letter was on plain white printer paper, and the letter was short:
Be good, jailbird. I'll take ya anywhere.
Sweet, and also sexy. God, you wanted him to take you.
You flattened out the letter and admired his poor but legible handwriting. Not as bad as some you'd seen. His handwriting was hot. It was cute that he didn't use any special stationary. He was a simple man. And God, what a man. You ran your fingers over the words, and they caught on a different texture. Something on the paper. You smelled it and it wasn't cum. It was, like, lotion or Vaseline.
Wait. You held it up, and your breath hitched.
You looked behind you to make sure no one was watching, then you stood up, got closer to the light, and held it at an angle. Holy shit. It was his dick print, diagonal across the paper. A bolt of desire shot through your body. It was transparent but the different texture was visible. You could see the head, then most of the shaft. It was detailed, there was texture. Even a couple of veins.
You sat on your bed, leaning against the wall with your knees up. You rested the paper against your knees at an angle with the tip pointed between your legs. You just wanted to get a sense of the size–and boy did you–but the sight of it, God. Just the silhouette of it lined up right there made you feral. You needed it so bad. Needed him. Who the hell mails a dick print? Fuckin’ Jojo, he was gonna be the death of you.
-----
Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your engagement really keeps me going, I love y'all.
This AU is due to @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs and their hilarious list of new joel tropes. But I played myself because he's actually hot and I want him?
Notes
The slapping sound after he came was him letting his cock slap onto the paper.
There are a lot of correctional facilities where they wouldn't get away with all this so you gotta suspend disbelief.
The strip club will be an alternate timeline of this Joel set in the past.
-----
I hear tags aren't working for some people. Please consider following @toxicfics and subscribing to notifications. Must have tumblr push notifications enabled on your phone.
-----
All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret
#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#toxicanonymity ☠️#cellmate's nephew!joel#CN!Joel Miller#CN!Joel#cellmate's nephew!joel miller#jojo ☠️
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in ur arms !
pairing: ꒰percy jackson x gn! reader꒱⋆·˚
summary: percy stumbles into your shared apartment after a drink luckily you're there to help him relax.
warning(s): established relationship, forehead kisses, mentions of alcohol (let’s pretend like percy can drink), domestic fluff.
requests are open !!
college was hard for percy.
he couldn't keep up with the long lectures or the fast paced speaking of his teachers, stumbling over his notes as he tried his best to take in everything they said. it'd be especially worse when the hour long period would end and he'd have to book it to the star bucks and few blocks down just so he could grab a coffee before he headed to the library.
the only thing good to came from this routine, percy guessed, was when he'd stumbled into you.
class had ended and percy had sure enough found himself on the same path towards the starbucks, digging around in his back pocket as he searched for any loose change he might have had. sadly, saving the world multiple times was job that was left unpaid. percy was just a broke college student, after all.
the opening of the glass door would alert you to a new customer, your head turning to see who'd came in with a slightly confused expression on your face. the place was empty - for once. poor percy - he was so caught observing the deserted place that he failed to notice you peeking at him from the counter.
a cough from you would tell him of your presence, stumbling over to the counter with a nervous laugh. for whatever reason, he couldn't shake the jittery nerves he'd get whenever he'd look up from the counter's marble material to meet eyes with you.
you made him nervous, embarrassingly so.
he'd hurriedly take his drink from your pretty hands, relishing in the 0.1 second of hand contact between the two of you as he pull his phone out, asking you for your number.
to which you happily agreed to doing.
you rubbed your clothed feet against the arm of your sofa, flipping through one of the hard cover textbooks you'd loaned from the library for your business class. the idea was to study for the upcoming exam for your class - though things happen. somehow you'd managed to start doodling small miscellaneous shapes and animals in your notebook.
you turned your attention towards the old wooden clock hanging just above your tv that displayed the words 10:30 PM on it. already past noon, where was percy? you leaned forward to grab your phone, opening it and reviewing the text message percy had sent you a few hours prior.
he and some friends had gone out for drinks after class to celebrate one of their birthdays. he'd asked if you'd be okay with him coming home late and despite your reluctancy to deal with a drunken partner, you set his worries to rest, insisting he went out with his friend requesting only for him to bring you back a slice of cake to which he only smiled and shook his head.
your gaze lingered over percy's caller id photo, chest growing heavy as you slowly found yourself starting to miss him dearly. you knew percy could protect himself, obviously. you just wondered if results would vary based on level of alcohol intake.
it was much too late to head out and find him too so the only thing you could seriously do for now is just wait for him to come home.
so, maybe the gods took pity on you this time. your head snapped towards the door as it creaked open suddenly, a slightly dazed percy scampering into the apartment. his dark raven hair was messy and sprawled across his face and his clothes, but a t-shirt and a some random jeans - were suddenly unkept and..stained.
percy mumbled out your name, a dopey grin forming onto his lips as he approached you with his arms out to you. shaken, yet relieved you allowed him to his crash his body into you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. it would've been a nice moment if his breath didn't reek of alcohol.
his grip was strong as ever, a stark contrast to the shakiness of his frame as he pulled away from you, grazing the side of your face with his hand. "were you okay without me here..?" he slurred, tilting his head to the left slightly.
"how much did you drink, percy?" you asked sternly, directing his hand from your cheek. "you reek."
percy shot you a confused look but didn't say much else, instead opting to rest his head on your chest as he cradled your torso. if you weren't so in love with him you would've likely threw him off the couch right there and then. yet, your fingers found themselves tangled in percy's hair, threading through the dark tufts gently as you picked out the various pieces of confetti that had landed it's way into it.
despite being holed up in a bar with his friends for a few hours, the smell of sea water still lingered as percy melted into your touch, his heart rate slowly every so slightly as he started to lull himself to sleep. a smile formed onto your face as you watched him quietly. he did stupid things - like jump into shark invested waters level stupid things.
but, you had to admit you could never stay mad at him for too long. one swift solemn glance from him and you'd cave immediately. you were sure, now more than ever, that no matter what happened to you - you wanted percy to be there with us along the way. things like made you realize it.
even if percy was buzzed right now, you never took a silent moment like this for granted at all. between percy's soft breaths and your pattering heart, you were sure all your fears from earlier were gone. another mutter of your name from percy catches your attention as you hum out a 'yes?'.
"i feel.." he hiccupped. "bad."
"yes, alcohol has that kind of effect on people." you joked, picking out a small pink confetti piece that was hiding in between his strands.
percy groaned. "no..it's not the beer." he turned to look up at you with a small frown.
"i ate your slice of cake.."
you stared at him momentarily before bursting out laughing, to percy's dismay. he muttered retorts to your amusement. you guess that was what the stains were. when your laughter finally ceased you simply watched percy with loving eyes, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead before cradling his head.
#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson fluff#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson x you#x reader#x reader fluff#pjo fluff#drunk fic#domestic fluff#fuffy fic
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