#litter observation

[delicatelysublimeforester]

Preserving Our Afforestation Areas: A Call to Responsible Outdoor Behavior

[lit-in-thy-heart]

brb sobbing over a book written nearly two hundred years ago

[ghxstkn1fe]

it’s still so insane to me that the only thing that charlie had ever dmed before bitb was convergence

[forhope]

   |  Dear all Shark Writers : I love you-  But Your Boy Can Be So Protective To The Point of Stupid its kinda comical  |

[chekovsphaser]

Right now I'm trying to deal with the fact that my mother is absolutely pathological in blaming other people (especially me) for her actions and guilt-trips as simply and subconsciously as she breathes.

We did not get into a fight, or even a mild disagreement. We've been perfectly fine and even happy with each other today. However, she lost her phone. This is, obviously, a huge problem. And, even though her irresponsibility with her own possessions absolutely in no way can be attributed to me, it's still kind of my fault, because I didn't get a local chip the other day. Apparently. I didn't argue, I figured she was going through enough without that. And she just kept going on about it. The only nod to her possible responsibility in this situation was that she said she pays less attention to her surroundings when she's with another person, because she expects the other person (me) to be on top of it. Still implying it was my fault for not being on top of it and not noticing she left her phone somewhere.

On one hand, this is upsetting. It's sad that she's so tied up in blame and the concept of her own pure innocence that she can't acknowledge even the slightest mistake. It's sad that this is so ingrained that I can never change it no matter how good I am. No matter how little error I make, she will blame me for her errors because she is utterly incapable of believing otherwise.

On the other hand, it's a little liberating? To know that maybe I'm not as bad as I think I am, I just deal with a person who will attribute every evil in the world to me for no reason.

[kaeyaphile]

is it bad that i want my father to stay in the hospital for a few more days because i called him this morning and apparently they woke him up in the middle of the night last night because “they didn’t like what his heart was doing” and so idk what’s going on (my sister handles his doctor appointments for the most part because i have enough of my own; he was supposed to come home tomorrow morning or well this morning ig since it’s after midnight) but he went in for his atrial fibrillation and they’re obviously keeping a close eye on him while they test out with medications for him to take and i’m anxious for him to come home because if he has a fucking heart attack or something in the middle of the night i won’t know or anything and (muffled screaming)

[candledapple]

this book kept implying the anonymous flashbacks were from the perspective of a boy but then when it was revealed it was actually a girl i was like OH SHIT SHE'S TRANS but it was just. her parents wanted a son so they treated her like a guy and i was like :|

[nico-the-overlord]

So funny when a classmate around me says shit like “furries are kinda weird ngl…I hope there aren’t any furries around that might get offended! 👀👀👀”

Meanwhile I’m standing here pretending not to know what a furry is when. well.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Simon taking care of you when you accidentally injured yourself. Just fluff cuz I need fluff :D .

cw: pet names (princess, love etc.)

“Simon, I’m home!”

You opened the front door, only to see Simon sitting on the couch. Hearing your voice, he raised his head from the book he was infatuated with these days, and a low hum left him as a welcome.

“I’ll go shower first, the weather’s hot as hell, and I’m stink.”

You tossed the key onto the plate, nonchalantly passed your lover, but Simon could sense the difference in your movements.

“Stop.”

He stood up from the couch, and came straight towards you.

Oh no, you’re so fucked up.

“Hey, Si! I’m dirty! put me down!”

Simon ignored your yelling, scooping you up and over his shoulder.

“Don’t move.”

He demanded, and you swallowed hard when he grabbed your left ankle, and lifted the trouser legs.

“You’re hiding this from me?” His coffee-like brown eyes narrowed in disapproval, throwing you daggers while all you could do was let out a sigh.

“Sorry, Simon. Don’t want to concern you.”

Crooking his eyebrow, Simon darted his eyes back to observe the wound on your left calf. A long, deep cut went across half of your flesh, blood just managed to stop dripping, and fortunately didn’t stick your injury to the clothes.

“Where do you get this?”

“The parking lot of the market. Didn’t see a rock and stumble over it, and the pin sticking out of a wall dug into my leg when I tried to steady myself.” You shrugged.

You knew he was worried and hated to see you get hurt, that’s why you try to sneak to the bathroom and deal with it yourself. Simon’s eyes softened when he learned how you get yourself injured, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t allow you to do things alone for at least a week.

“let’s go shower.” He picked you up swiftly as if you weighed nothing, and you just melted into his touch.

“You gonna help me?” Even though you knew the answer, you still asked when he strode to the bathroom.

“You think there’s other options?”

“... No.”

“Good Girl.” planting a kiss on your forehead, he kicked open the door.

“Close your eyes, don’t want to sting them, love.”

Your satisfied grumble when his hands attentively scratched your head made Simon chuckle. He put you in the warm bathtub, and the little chair looked comical under his bulky stature, but you didn’t laugh at him this time, instead focusing on his hands.

His hands, working magically through your hair, carefully not to tug your hair with too much strength. The hands that always protect you, the hands that are littered with scars, soaked with blood, but massage your shoulders when you are tired, shuffle your hair when you playfully argue with him, place on your belly when he hugs you from behind and whispered his affection to you.

He reserved all his tenderness to you, and you wondered why you were lucky enough to have this man as yours.

“Told you to close your eyes, love.”

You smiled when Simon finally discovered you had been staring at him from the start.

“Am I not allowed to watch my beautiful husband?”

“Don’t complain when the sud run into those pretty eyes then.” He huffed out a laugh.

When it came to you, he just couldn’t do anything but surrender to your adorable cheekiness. He thought when he couldn’t help but give your cheek a peck.

You sat on the edge of your bed now. Simon had dry your hair, and made you put on your underwear and his black shirt.

He was kneeling in front of you now, picking through the gauze and disinfectant. He seemed to find all the things he needed. Placing them aside, he took your ankle in his hand again.

“It’ll hurt a bit.”

He traced circles on your thigh to soothe the pain when he sprayed the antiseptic on your wound and waited for it to dry.

“You’re doing well, love. We’re almost finished.”

He cooed when he saw you blinked away a tear hanging on the corner of your eye.

Nodding, you watched him cover the wound with gauze and secure it.

“Thank you, Si.”

You chanted softly when his thumb caressed on the tape. Simon didn’t let go of your ankle when you thanked him, but landed a kiss beside the gauze.

“A spell for faster healing” The childish glints in his eyes were obvious when he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

“Don’t know you’re such a romantic person, baby.” You poke his cheek with a laugh.

“Guess there’s more of me yet for you to figure out.

He threw the bottles back into the medkit, and finally stood up after kneeling for ten minutes.

“Anything you want now, princess?”

“cuddle with me, Simon. The wound hurts.”

“Who’s the one trying to hide it thirty minutes ago?”

Lying on your back on the bed, his blonde hair shined under the light, but not brighter than the languid smirk he wore on his lips.

“Are you saying you don’t want to cuddle with me now?”

“Are there other options?”

“of course not, handsome.” You worm yourself into the comforter, and beckoned him to join you.

Slump down on the bed, he wiggled himself into his usual cuddling posture, arms snaked around your waist, and covered your belly with his palm.

“Anything for you, love.” You felt he kissed the shell of your ear when your eyes closed under the coziness.

[erwinsvow]

PLEASEEEE can u show the time where reader caught rafe punching the squishmallows that really sent me

"don't laugh, okay?" you say it softly, right outside the door to your bedroom.

"why would i laugh?" rafe’s asking seriously, but you're already a tiny bit embarrassed of what lies on the other side of the door and you're unsure how rafe will react.

"it's, like, a third of the size of your room-"

"shut up and open the door."

you sigh, turning the handle and pushing to let yourself in first. rafe follows, staring around the tiny room observantly. his eyes flicker from corner to corner, taking it in. you stand to the side patiently, playing with your hands, in particular the ring rafe had just gotten you, fiddling and twisting it repeatedly.

he walks around for a second, stopping at your bookshelf to take a look at the titles on the shelves and then moving on, staring at the photos on the wall and then sniffing a stray candle on the nightstand. he finally stops at your dresser, glancing over the lotions and perfumes littered on top to stare at the framed picture of the two of you perched right in the center, odds and ends he's gotten you in the last month scattered around.

"so?" you question quietly, eyes big.

"which drawer's got your panties?"

"rafe! shut up."

"it's a cute room. why'd you get so worried?"

"i don't know. habit." you settle on the bed, bringing your biggest squishmallow onto your lap, holding it in your arms comfortingly. rafe's still looking around.

"always had one favorite color, huh?"

"yes," you admit, squeezing the stuffed animal harder. rafe finally comes to join you on the bed, gesturing to the squishmallow as soon as he does.

"what the hell is that?"

"this is ricky. he's a clownfish. he has a career, i just can't remember-"

"huh?"

"they all have jobs and hobbies, rafe. the squishmallows. i think he's an underwater singer or something."

"you sleep with that huge thing on the bed?"

"every night. when i'm here, at least. i should get one for tannyhill!"

"don't know about all that." he takes it into his hands, moving it around, observing it from all sides. "every single night?"

"yeah. why?"

"nothin'."

the conversation changes to the books on your nightstand, and you forget all about the squishmallow resting on your bed until you step out to get a cup of lemonade for rafe.

walking back in, you wonder if you put enough sugar in, when you open the door to see rafe smacking your squishmallow with his right hook, right to his little face.

"what are you doing?!" it spills out before you can stop it, the lemonade almost falling out of your hand.

"look at the dent. how does it go back to how it was?" he questions, while you look over at him, horrified. "what's inside it? feathers, or some shit?" he looks over to get an answer, when he looks at your distraught face.

"what?"

even when he sleeps over, he's never allowed to touch your squishmallow again.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Monster x Reader Headcanons

You find yourself kidnapped into a half-breed family of monsters and humans, for the purpose of an arranged marriage. Luckily for you, the groom is their only pure human, terribly handsome and charming. You'd perhaps appreciate him more if your eyes weren't glued to his monstrous older sibling...

Content: female reader, monster smut, reader is a shameless monster hoe

[Part 2]

You always imagined such kidnappings to be of theatrical intensity, being scooped up against your will as you scream and flail your arms, longing for a savior. The affair itself felt more like a formal summoning. Mysterious men appeared before you and merely announced that your presence is required, unfortunately without the choice of refusal. Might as well. You packed necessities under their polite supervision and now you're sitting at the table, facing multiple strangers who are casually enjoying their lunch. One of them, the head of the family apparently, explains that half-breeds are in a rather sensitive place when one considers human and monster politics. Thus, every now and then, they will do whatever it takes to strengthen their bonds and show good intent towards both species. This time it's an arranged marriage with a fellow human.

Why you, in particular? No need to concern yourself with intricate details. What matters now is that you are to be married soon and your groom is right here, enthusiastically waving in a welcoming greeting. You scan his features and can't help but agree with the family: he is, by all definitions, a conventionally handsome man. His face is carefully chiseled in most elegant, yet masculine features. His voice is confident but warm, and you can tell by the flock of servants hovering around that he's rather popular. After the luxurious meal he guides you around the imposing home, showing you to your room and briefing you on future responsibilities. Caring, attentive, and several other checks that you can easily mark in his favor.

Yet one vital aspect has been omitted. The prince's mesmerizing beauty was rather swiftly discarded once you realized the presence of his older sibling, a pure monster blood towering above everyone else and idly eating his food, uninterested. You managed to hide your blush in time, but you couldn't help throwing curious glances. Might've been easier for everyone involved if they handed out 'monster lover' badges. Alas, you weren't prepared to ever be faced with the choice.

The next day you're awoken by the murmur of diligent work, as both servants and family pace back and forth about their plans. You sneak your way out - since nothing is yet expected of you - and wander until you find your intended target: the beastly sibling is polishing a bizarre weapon you don't recognize in what seems to be a storage room littered with battle memorabilia. He notices your presence and acknowledges you with a bored nod. You ask whether you may observe his current activity and he looks up at you, raising an eyebrow suspiciously before agreeing. Why would you care? Certainly there's more entertaining things for you to do as a soon-to-be bride.

As you listen to his little stories from the battleground (hardy monsters like him are better off fighting, not socializing), you have to pat your cheeks in desperate attempts to cool down your burning blush. "H-how comes you don't have a partner?" You mutter, almost feverish. "Not interested. Plus, who would dare to marry me?" he jokes, focused on the sharp item in his clawed hands. There it is. Hesitation and diplomacy out the window, you rearrange yourself, smoothening your clothing, and whisper: "Well, if I had to choose, I would've preferred you as my husband..."

Once again he stares at you bewildered. Have you come here to mock him or something? A frail, pretty human like you, about to tie the knot with his stunning younger brother, showing up here and behind everyone's backs to openly flirt with him. Ridiculous beyond comprehension. His skin is thick enough to not mind such twisted humor, so if anything he's impressed by your audacity. Alright, if you've come for jokes, he'll comply. He places his weapon down and fully turns to you. A little scare might teach you to be more respectful with your in-laws next time.

With a speedy movement that's barely registered by your eyes, he pushes you on the floor and pins you by the wrists, lowering himself uncomfortably close to your face. "If you tease me like this, I might not be able to hold back." He says as he forces himself to smile extra hard, revealing the multiple rows of fangs. "In fact, I can't guarantee you'd make it out of here alive." Hopefully he isn't going too far with his tactics. He senses your frantic breathing and is about to apologize for continuing your prank, but you blurt out in a daze: "Yes, please! I've been thinking about it ever since I saw you." You're panting for dear life as your face is turning a deep shade of red.

Uh oh. Now this is awkward. You weren't...you weren't kidding. For a moment, he freezes in place, trying to recollect himself to no avail. Fucking your brother's future wife in a storage room in the middle of the day feels like poorly written erotic romance. Then again, he can't deny the sudden urge overwhelming him at the mere thought of it. You're squirming underneath him, gliding your legs across his now obvious bulge. His common sense is hanging by a comically thin thread and he can almost hear the instant when it snaps. Thankfully some leftovers of sanity must have remained in the back of his mind and his lustful grunts while pounding you are kept low enough that no one is notified of your horny deeds. Shutting you up was the bigger challenge.

"Is this too tight, miss?" You spin in front of the mirror and the servant readjusts the lace corset adorning your wedding dress. You have to hold back your yawn. Downright shameless and perverted of you to daydream about your monster boyfriend while trying on bridal gowns, but it's not like you agreed to it to begin with. You were kind of hoping to discuss future dating prospects post-intercourse, but someone had been looking for you shortly afterwards and you struggled to regain your composure. Your scary-looking suitor shooed you away with the promise of a reunion.

Before the servant can reach for the next dress, you both jump, startled by angry shouts coming from the hall. You rush outside to witness the older sibling standing before the head of the family. The wrathful threats were coming from the much smaller half-human. "Y-you can't just decide like that!" He screams. "Of course I can. You're welcome to fight me for it." The monster sibling flashes a smug grin. "Can anyone here defeat me?" His question is met with silence. He spots you and gestures you to come towards him. "I'll say it one more time. Find another human for my brother if you have to. This one is mine." He ends his sentence in a low growl and you shiver underneath his heavy arm. Boy, what a time to be alive.

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.6k words summary: boyfriend!toji headcanons, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, he’s a simp but he’ll never admit it !! rheya's note: grumpy man being soft for the person he really loves? i’m here for it. mamaguro is literal proof that he can and will love !!

bf!toji who is silent with his care for you. he's not one to be open or dramatic about his feelings, but you bet he'll show them in actions. small, mundane things that could only be picked out under critical eyes—like quietly placing an extra mug of coffee next to you as you work, or being the one to walk closest to the street, fingers firmly clasped around your palm. if you point it out he'll just grunt, shaking his head with a quiet "keep walking" all while pretending to ignore your silly little grin.

bf!toji who isn't really the type to be big on words of affirmation, but huge on physical touch. you tell him you did well on a project at school or work and he just hums, giving you a little nod. he doesn't say anything else—doesn't really have to because the soft lingering pat on your head is enough to tell you that he's proud.

bf!toji who is an aggressive yet affectionate lover. if you're doing something and he's not receiving your attention he will come up behind you and put you in a headlock. he thinks it's an appropriate response considering how much he craves your attention and company—why on earth are you focused on something that isn't him anyway? so be prepared to have his heavy bicep playfully curling around your throat or slinging you over his shoulders at random times—it's his way of telling you he misses you. and if anything, he'll do it to hear you whine and attempt to shove him off.

bf!toji who will absolutely take your phone and change your lockscreen to pictures of him. every so often, you'll turn your phone on and see an entirely different picture—sometimes a picture of him at the gym, other times a picture of him blocking out his face—but it's always him.

bf!toji whose own lockscreen is always something that's related to you. he's sneaky with it, always stealing pictures of you when you're not looking. he's got a separate album with them—probably hidden behind a password because it's something only he should be allowed to see. but whether it's a snapshot of his hand intertwined with yours or a blurry image of you fast asleep in his bed, it's always you. because of course you’re the first thing he should be able to see when he turns his phone on.

bf!toji who, as cliché as it sounds, is exactly the type to go feral if someone's made you upset. and he's freakishly observant, noticing even a slight pinch of your nose or wobble in your lips—he's caught them all. whether you're just down or outright sobbing, he's there, standing in front of you with pure anger weighing heavy on his brows. and yet for all his rage he's nothing but gentle as he firmly takes your face in his calloused hands, muttering a strained "what the fuck happened?" as he forces you to make eye contact with him. his own eyes will dart over your features, searching for discomfort or any other emotion as you explain, barely holding back his own emotions because there's no reason on the fucking planet that you should be upset at all.

bf!toji who rarely says the words "i love you" not because he doesn't but because the words themselves don't hold all that much meaning to him. no he'd rather spend his time proving it to you than just saying it for the sake of saying it. but, sometimes if you pretend to be asleep long enough, you'll catch him quietly whisper the words into your hair, almost like he doesn't want anyone to hear it. don't even bother trying to call him out for it—he'll deny deny deny.

bf!toji whose eyes flutter when he lets you trace over his scars. not just the one cutting over his lips but the ones that litter his back and torso—battle remnants that he doesn't remember much of. he's always hated the look of them, indifferent to old memories of a much more chaotic time in his life. but when your gentle fingers graze over the raised skin he'll sigh, oddly quiet but yet so comfortable.

bf!toji who will drop everything if you need him. don't ever hesitate to ask him for things because you're scared of being a burden—he will yell at you (affectionately). you drank too much with your friends and can't get a ride? call him and he'll pick you up even if it's 4 am. you're feeling nervous about walking home from the convenience store even though it's only ten minutes away from home? stay put and he'll come get you so that you can walk back together. shut up about all that "it's an inconvenience for you" bullshit—he'll do it and that's that.

bf!toji who asks if you've eaten today, and when you answer with a sheepish smile he'll click his tongue, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and giving you a pointed glare. then he'll say "get your ass to the kitchen. c'mon, up." while hoisting you to your feet—most of the time he'll just pick you up and plop you on the counter himself.

bf!toji who wordlessly makes you something to eat, whether it's a quick snack put together with leftovers or an actual full meal. then he'll stand in front of you with the plate and demand you eat. even a slight word of protest and he's scowling, already holding up a spoonful while grumbling a low "don't wanna hear it. open up, kid."

bf!toji who hates when you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home. his job doesn't allow for the comfort of a strict schedule, and he's told you this many times. but you're nothing if not stubborn, and he can only sigh heavily as he sees you dozing against the armrest when he pushes the door open late at night. he'll click his tongue quietly, hooking both arms under your back and knees to cradle you against his chest before walking to the bedroom. though some part of him is pleased, knowing that you seem to care about him enough to make sure he's coming home every night.

bf!toji who glares at anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way. some guy eyeing you while you're walking on the street? toji looks like he's ready to rip his head off. some "friend" of yours asking too many questions about why you're dating a man like him? well…if looks could kill.

bf!toji who pulls you into his lap when he kisses you, because he likes the way you fit into his space so perfectly. he won't ever admit how it makes him swoon when you giggle against his lips, instead choosing to tighten his grip on your hips and pull you closer to his chest.

bf!toji who enjoys watching you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your legs back and forth—finding it so unbelievably endearing that he ends up just standing in between your legs and burying his face into your neck. his lips will map chaste kisses across your skin, and he'll hide a wry smile as your quiet giggles wash over him.

bf!toji who will notice when you eye something at a store, whether it's a pretty piece of jewelry or a new sweater or whatever—he keeps note. and then weeks later, once you've forgotten all about it, he'll come home and drop a bag into your lap before shoving his hands into his pockets. when you open it and start gushing about how much you wanted it and how pleased you are, he'll huff and turn away, muttering a low "whatever, kid. 's not a big deal."

bf!toji who sees you upset about something, and loops his bicep around your neck and tucks you under his chin. to an outsider it doesn't look like the most comforting form of a hug, but it's toji, and he's secure and he's safe and he's all the comfort you need—a tight squeeze that grounds you in a way that you can't quite describe.

bf!toji who will never admit how interested he is in your gossip. his ideal way to destress after he comes home is to sit on the couch with you in his lap, your arms looped around his waist as you press yourself against his torso and tuck your head under his chin. and even though his eyes are trained on the tv, he has no clue what's going on—he's more focused on the drama you're spilling or whoever you're ranting about. and he makes it known too, occasionally asking "then what happened, baby?" and adding in a few sounds of disbelief. by the end of your rant, he'll be saying something along the lines of "what a fucking bitch," or "honestly he deserved that," and then asks for updates on the situation over the next few days.

bf!toji who silently watches you trace your fingers over the lines on his palms. you're blabbering about something, tucked against his chest as his other arm remains wrapped around you securely, but he's just focused on your hands. it scares him a little bit—the difference between you and him. his palms are calloused, rough with battle and death, while yours are soft, clean of the horrors he's determined to keep away from you. and a small part of him tells him he shouldn't taint you with all his faults, that you deserve someone more capable of loving than he is. but then he feels you brush your lips over his scarred fingers and he sucks in a breath, tightening his grip imperceptibly. even as he hides a half smile against your brow, he knows he isn't going anywhere.

[bimbobaggins69]

welcome to the dungeon…

modern sex shop steddie x only fans reader

summary: it’s just your luck that the two men you planned to shoot a scene with canceled last minute. It’s also just your luck that your usual sex shop you frequent is closed, leaving you to make a thirty minute trip ending up in a town called Hawkins… it’s also just your luck that the two men behind the counter totally know who you are and might perhaps even be willing to shoot that scene with you?

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, fem reader, no use of y/n, mentions of weed, overuse of pet names, overuse of the word cock (not sorry), sex on camera, oral sex (male & fem receiving), rim job (male receiving), p in v sex & p in a sex (fem receiving), double dipping (don’t recommend), use of an anal plug, full nelson position, double penetration, daddy kink, squirting, cream pies, dom!eddie, switch!steve, sub!reader, flufffff.

authors note: absolutely no one asked for this, but I felt v compelled to write it. Thank you to my loves @take-everything-you-can, @corrodedcorpses and @xxhellfiregirlxx for beta reading, appreciate you all so so much <333.

wc: 9.4k

Part two | series masterlist

Thirty minutes… your gps says the only other sex shop near you is thirty minutes away, in a town you’ve never even heard of before. Harkins or Hawkins, something like that?

Of course, if anything could go wrong today it most definitely will. And has.

It all started when you spilled iced coffee all over the front of your new white dress, then your favorite vibrator went out, you also seemed to misplace your butt plug which in your line of work is a travesty… then the two men you had planned a collab with had to cancel last minute.

That’s the last time you ever plan to work with a couple.

So now you’re in your car, listening to your favorite Spotify playlist while your hair whips through the wind.

Making it into Hawkins was so underwhelming, you could never live in a town like this… no chance in hell. You begrudgingly roll up your windows when the smell of cow shit wafts through the air.

God, if the sex toys suck I swear it’ll be my thirteenth reason.

“The destination is on your left.” Siri's voice echoes through your speakers.

You pull into a parking spot right up front, luckily the lot seemed to be pretty empty. You gather your purse and phone before allowing your eyes to flicker along the building now in perfect view—

The bricks were painted black, the store seemed as if it went on for ages and the red LED sign that read “the dungeon” seemed to taunt you.

You would’ve totally mistaken this place for some kind of bdsm club had you not known it was a sex shop. Clearly this town isn’t as conservative as it seems.

“Welcome to the dungeon!” The boy behind the counter sweetly recites with a welcoming smile. His honey brown eyes immediately catch your attention, along with his pretty brown head of hair.

Oh he’s cute!

“Thank you.” You smile back while hesitantly walking up to him, you quickly decide it’s best to just ask where the things you need are located instead of having to look around mindlessly, considering this was one of the biggest sex shops you’ve been in.

“Hi,” you purr while leaning up against the counter, “I need help looking for a few things.” Leaving your cleavage perfectly on display for the pretty boy in front of you.

“Oh yeah, sure, what are you looking for?” He shoots you a charming smile before leaning in closer to you.

“butt plugs, lube and vibrators.” You divulge with a pretty smile.

“Mmm, yeah I can help you find all of that. Let me just call my partner up here to take over.” He says with a wink.

You allow yourself to ogle at him a bit as he talks almost secretively over a walkie talkie; you observe his light brown eyes that twinkle with excitement, to the pretty beauty marks that seem to litter his skin, to the way his hair perfectly coifs.

“Alright, Eddie should be up here soon to take over.” He announces with a beaming smile.

“Thanks Steve.” You respond with a flirty bat of your lashes.

He looks at you for a moment as if a deer caught in headlights before his eyes shift down to his name tag, reminding himself it was in fact still pinned to his black shirt. A black shirt with red print of said sex shop; that hugged his biceps and chest so perfectly, that also showed off those speckled and toned arms that you now realized were spotted with a few tattoos.

You hear shuffling footsteps as another cute boy with wild wavy hair and even more tattoos walks up from behind you, his face is adorned in a knowing smirk as he hungirly looks you up and down.

“Alright, I’m here.” He declares before giving Steve a playful slap to his ass.

Steve rolls his eyes as his cheeks flush.

“Right this way.” He murmurs before looking back to the boy behind the counter and nodding as if Eddie had mouthed something to him.

Curious

“So, what brings you all the way to Hawkins?” Steve asks as he walks a couple steps ahead, his hands nervously shoved in his pockets.

“The shop I usually go to in Indy was closed so.. I had to drive like 30 minutes out of the way to come here.” You huff in exasperation.

“Oh I’m sorry about that…well we have the best sex toy selection in all of Indiana if that's any consolation.” His eyes nervously find yours before giving you a little smirk.

“Yeah, I see that. I’m surprised actually, never thought I’d find a sex shop like this in such a small town.”

“Well, you know what they say.. small towns have the biggest freaks.” He says with a laugh that makes your lower stomach flutter. He’s so pretty.

“Do they say that?” You giggle with a teasing raise of your eyebrows.

“I mean that’s what I’ve heard.” He shrugs his shoulders before licking at his bottom lip. “Okay, butt plugs… here we are.” He presents with a wave of his hand, showing off the wide selection and varieties.

“Oh wow,” is all you say as you let your hands skim over the array of silicone, metal and glass toys.

You grab a long metal plug, the packaging says the ridges are sensation bumps, which piqued your interest immediately.

“That ones my favorite.” Steve says with a bashful smile.

“Oh yeah? You use it on your girlfriend a lot or..?” You question as you internally pray he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

“No…I um, I use it on myself or my boyfriend… Eddie he’s uh- me and him are together.” He finally spits out.

“Oh okay, cute.” Is all you say, before grabbing the recommended plug that you’ve now noticed has a pretty red jewel at the bottom.

Your old baby was a pink silicone with just a regular white jewel, but you were excited to play with the ridges on this new one.

You grab a bottle of lube off one of the shelves before you and Steve make your way in complete silence towards the vibrators.

Steve was now a mystery to you, considering you knew he’d been flirting with you… also the way they both eyed you up and down? They had to be into women too, right?

We’ll see.

Once Steve shows you to the vibrators you snatch up the exact one that went out on you, it was your favorite and you weren’t in the mood to switch up what brought you ample amounts of pleasure.

“She knows what she wants..” Steve says with a low rasp that was doing no favors for your panties.

“This thing gives me back to back orgasms.” You say with a playful tilt of your head.

“Oh does it? Interesting.” He murmurs with a nod of his head, the look on his face was too cocky as if he knew something you didn’t.

He couldn’t have seen my videos, right?

“I’m gonna take a look at the lingerie and then I’ll be ready to check out in a bit.” You declare before giving Steve one last sweet smile.

You walk up to the counter with a handheld basket of the toys you came for a long with some pretty lingerie sets and a couple pairs of crotchless panties.

Eddie and Steve are standing huddled together, facing away from the register, talking rather secretively as the metalhead shows the pretty boy something on his phone. They quickly break apart when they notice your arrival.

Hmm, that’s suspicious.

“Hey,” Eddie greets with a smirk, “find everything, okay?” He asks before a shaky exhale.

“Mmhm, Steve was a big help.” You say coyly as you take everything out of the red basket one by one, setting it on the counter to be rung up.

“I bet.” His smile gets devilish as he shoots a look at the blushing boy behind him.

“So how’s your day going?” He continues to probe.

“Honestly, not great…” you pout while studying the boys faces closely for their reactions. “Well, it’s better now that I’ve gotten these …” you say pointing to the plug and vibrator. “But, I had a collab scheduled and well the two guys I was supposed to work with canceled on me at the last minute, and I guess I’m just really horny and frustrated.. ya know?” You feel your frustrations finally coming to the forefront as a lump forms in your throat.

“Hmm, a collab?… what kind of collab?” His cocky smile manages to send a shiver down your spine. Oh, these boys were making you feel things you haven't in years.

You can also totally tell he’s fishing, he already knows, that was confirmation enough but you decide to go along with their ruse.

“I do only fans, so it was supposed to be a bisexual threesome. Probably some dp, frotting, a daisy chain.. things like that.” You list away as both boys' eyes widen at your frankness.

“Shit.” You hear Eddie mumble under his breath as he shifts in front of you.

“Me and uh, me and Stevie here have always wanted to um, ya know, do a threesome with a chick.” He confesses as the redness from his cheeks travel down along his long tattooed neck.

“Have either of you ever been with a woman before?” You ask curiously.

“Yeah, w-we both have, before we started dating.” Steve answers quickly.

“Oh okay, so you both like women too, or…?” you continue to indulge in your curiosity.

“Absolutely we do, sweetheart.” Eddie snickers, “especially ones who are up for taking two men at once.” He winks with a seductive lick of his plump lips.

“Down boy.” Steve chides, as he rolls his eyes at his boyfriend's brashness.

“He’s a bit shy, don’t mind him.” Eddie whispers with a downright devious smirk.

“Shy boys are my favorite to play with.” You say towards Steve with a wink.

“You hear that big boy?” The metalhead guffaws.

Big boy…

How could you not be immediately intrigued by words like that?

“So O.F. huh?” Eddie smugly asks “ya know, you do look pretty familiar, maybe we’ve seen your stuff.”

“Maybe you have…” you say before pulling out your phone to pull up your most recent video, it was a solo vid of you fucking your self with a pink dildo while your ass was stuffed full of your beloved anal plug (rip)

Before clicking on the video for their viewing pleasure, a username catches your eye: @bigboyandhellfire. Judging by the fact that Eddie called Steve big boy and Eddie’s throat tattoo so clearly reads ‘hellfire’ you’re now more than positive they are subscribed to you and they’ve liked your most recent video.

The throb between your thighs pulses and you’re trying so hard not to clench them together as tight as they’ll go.

“Hey, are you both busy after this?” You examine as both their faces shift to equal amounts of interest and curiosity.

You had balls, you had big fucking balls but you already knew that. You’d never been the type to shy away from anything, you’ve always been an “i’ll try anything once” kind of girl so it shouldn't surprise you that you propositioned two of your subscribers you met at a sex shop no less, to shoot content with you.

After their shift you had all gone out for some food and drinks. You were able to get a taste for their personalities and in turn it helped you feel much better about your compulsive decision.

You learned they were truly great guys, who were very in love, but also had so much extra love to give… by the end of the night it felt as if you’d known them forever, almost like you had fit so perfectly into their already incredible relationship.

You'd never really considered polyamory for yourself, which is surprising in your line of work as you have tons of friends who are very poly and proud. You just never thought you'd find more than one person who’d love you and willingly share you as all of your exes were jealous little shits, but now you’re completely rethinking any stances you've had on basic monogamous relationships for yourself.

After all of Eddie's dirty but hilarious jokes and Steve's absolute charm you explained to the boys how things worked; positions for the perfect shots, things they were into and things you were into, as well as hard limits between you all. You couldn't believe how much in common you had with them, sexually. That almost never happens with other creators.

The last and most important thing you needed from them before going any further were negative test results. The plan was for them to get tested, have the pdf file sent over to you to prove they were both clean and then they were to meet you at your apartment that night.

“You ready, big boy?” the metalhead beams over to his boyfriend before they swiftly exit their shared jeep.

“Hey, you alright over there?” Eddie asks with concern as he drapes his heavily tattooed arm over Steve’s broad shoulders.

“Yeah no, I'm fine. Just nervous I guess.” He softly admits as he and Eddie cross the street, making their way into the clinic.

“Nervous to get tested or nervous to fuck our dream girl?” Eddie snorts at his own words.

“Honestly, a bit of both.” Steve confesses as he shyly cowers away into his boyfriend's chest, Eddie has always found Steve’s coy shyness utterly adorable, he wanted so badly to eat him up everytime he put his pretty head of hair into his chest or on his shoulder.

“I know I'm clean, since ya know i’ve never gone without a rubber, but I don't know, it's still nerve wracking I guess.” the honey eyed boy disclosed with a harsh breath into his boyfriend's neck.

“We’ll be alright, baby. It’ll be worth it, I mean how long have we been subscribed to her and how often have we come to the idea of her being between us?” Eddie acknowledged a little too loudly as the women in line ahead of them turned back to give them a disapproving look, making Steve’s cheeks tinge the sweetest shade of pink.

“Will you keep it down?” he sharply whispers into his boyfriend's brown waves, making Eddie cackle in amusement.

After an hour of leaving the clinic and grabbing some food as they awaited the results, they both get a ding on their phones. Steve’s eyes widen as he continues to chew on an extra big bite of his burger before harshly swallowing it down and cautiously grabbing his phone, as Eddie grabs his without a care in the world. To be fair Steve was much more sexually active before him and Eddie had gotten together; as in Steve had a huge hoe faze his Junior and Senior year of high school and although he had never forgotten to use protection, there was still a chance he could have caught something, or at least that’s what Steve’s anxiety riddled brain keeps telling him.

He stares at the results as a loud exhale is shared between the couple.

Steve catches his boyfriend's eye as his face scrunches up in confusion.

“I thought you weren't nervous?” He asks as a relieved smile spreads across his face.

“I never said that, I just have to be the brave one and talk you off the ledge. But believe me that shit is nerve inducing for anyone. Hell, I'd be nervous even if I still had my v card.” The metal head guffaws, popping a fry he’d dipped in his vanilla shake into his mouth, making Steve grimace in disgust at his boyfriend's condiment of choice.

“Yeah, true.” He quickly agrees.

Steve never thought to get tested or to make this big of a fuss about it, but after seeing the results, it left him with a sense of relief for something he may have subconsciously been worried about.

“WOOH!” Eddie shouts with excitement, “you ready to do this, Stevie?” He asks with the biggest, brightest smile while scanning his boyfriends beautiful face.

“Fuck yeah, I am.”

“Michelle, are you even listening to me?” You pout into your phone's camera while on a somewhat grainy facetime chat with your beautiful bombshell of a best friend who seems to be occupied by the little smoke sesh/kick back she is hosting, the only one you’ve ever missed.

“Yes bitch, of course I am.” She says with slight annoyance, “come on, show me the options.”

You set up your phone on one of the many tripods that sit facing your bed before backing away with two sets of lingerie, “Okay, so I have this baby pink set or this like, deep blood red set with the knee high stockings and garter belt.” You say with a slight tremble to your voice that reaches your hands.

This is so not you, you’re never nervous to shoot content with even the biggest names…so what is it about these two boys that have you anxiously awaiting their arrival?

“Oh, def the blood red one, its fucking hot!” Michelle growls the word ‘hot’ into the speaker, slightly distorting the sound before you see a cloud of smoke billowing from her mouth.

“Yay! That's the one I was gonna choose anyway, since it matches my new butt plug.” You squeak in excitement.

“You fuckin’ freak.” Your best friend guffaws, “Maybe you and your boy toys can come through after y'all are done with your little fuckfest.”

You giggle at her choice of words as you begin to remove your robe and slip into the red lingerie set, foregoing the panties so you can lube and stretch yourself out for the buttplug you want to have inserted before Steve and Eddie show up.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll ask if they’re up for it when we finish.”

Finally, your hair and makeup are close enough to perfection, your lace set was on and hugging all the right curves on your body along with the knee highs and garter belts, your butt plug was sitting nice and snug inside your recently waxed puckered hole.

You begin to set up the ring lights around your room brightening the two in the front to max brightness as you've already lost sunlight, then you perfectly angle your tripods towards your big 70’s inspired circular bed, adorned with black silk sheets.

Once you’re setting out the lube and different toys you think the boys would be into, you hear the doorbell ring and all the busying you've been doing to try and calm your mind from complete and utter nervousness is now null and void as it all comes rushing back within an instant.

You saunter downstairs practically slipping on oak wood floors, no thanks to your nylon stocking like knee highs that hug your dainty feet.

Reaching the door, you pull it open with slight aggression that you can only blame on the anxious beating of your heart, here you are opening the door in nothing but lingerie yet that’s not even the part you’re nervous about. No, you're never nervous about showing your body off, as you’re quite proud of it, instead you're nervous because these two beautiful boys that you had an instant connection with will be in your presence, you have to keep reminding yourself they already like you, they’re subscribed to you for fucks sake, so there has to be some type of attraction there.

‘Just be yourself and you'll be fine’ is what you repeat like a mantra in your mind, something you haven't repeated since you were the new kid in 6th grade, entering into an unknown world of small town life in the midwest.

“Fuck me.” The long haired boy gasps under his breath as he eyes you up and down, his pretty boy boyfriend stands beside him with his mouth agape in shock, half lidded eyes and a soft and sweet blush to his cheeks.

“Come inside and I will.” You giggle as you take the expensive looking champagne they had brought along. You can always appreciate the people that don't show up to a shoot empty handed.

They step inside, curiously looking around your ‘too big for just you, house’.

“Do you live alone?” Steve questions shyly as Eddie continues to shamelessly check you out.

“I do, so you don't have to worry about anyone interrupting or listening in.” You add in an attempt to ease his tense shoulders that have been that way since you opened the front door. Even though you were nervous you wanted to make them as comfortable as possible, since this was their first time doing anything of this nature.

“So, you live in this big ass house all alone?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Yup, a big three bedroom house just for me. My roommate just moved out actually, so I've got the place to myself now. It's not so bad, unless you know of anyone who's looking to live with a porn making roomie?” you say with a smile and hand propped under your chin, in a cute pose.

The boys both smirk as they continue to eye everything up, as if in high interest of the offer you had just given them, well not them specifically but someone they knew. But their lease to their shitty apartment was almost up and they had been talking about moving out of Hawkins and to the city, nothing was keeping them in that shit hole town and there were so many more opportunities in indy. Maybe it was something they could bring up later.

“So… how do we start this?” Eddie questions, his usual cocky facade slipping as he cracks his knuckles out of nervousness.

“Well once I hit record, we just kinda start it how ever you’d start just a regular fuck.” You say as you shrug your shoulders. “So, my phone is set up on this tripod, can one of you offer up your phone so I can set it up on this other one? I want as many angles as possible.” You ask sweetly as you point to the tripod that sits on the left corner of the bed.

“Yeah, you can use mine.” Steve quickly offers “the code is eddie or 33343.” He coyly asserts before his boyfriend is pulling him back to plant a big wet kiss to his lips.

That action alone made you throb between your thighs, Jesus you couldn’t wait to see how they’d make that burning feeling in your belly erupt.

You open his phone to a sweet background picture of him and Eddie; Steve kissing the metalheads cheek as a bashful looking Eddie, playfully flips off the camera.

You quickly open the camera and click the video option, before setting it onto the black base.

“Okay so, Eddie can I use your phone for like, close up and POV angles?” You ask as Eddie walks over and plops down onto your bed before leaning back to remove his phone from his side pocket. “You can use anything you’d like, princess.” He flirts with a wink, causing your stomach to swoop with butterflies.

He sets his phone down by the lube on your side table, for later.

After you’ve finished the setup process and helped the boys undress down to their boxers all while kissing each other, albeit without the cameras rolling which was so foreign for you, you never touched a costar if it wasn’t being recorded.

But you couldn’t help it, when you were lifting up Eddie’s shirt and he went in for a chaste kiss to your lips, the same one he planted on Steve earlier, It quickly heated up as he slipped his tongue into your mouth while you were unbuckling his belt.

Steve comes up behind you and whispers in your ear “is this okay?” Before he places a tender kiss to the side of your neck, causing a mean shiver to run down your spine, making both boys smile into your skin.

You nod to Steve’s question with a moan, before he begins to attack your neck with sweet yet sloppy kisses.

Both boys reach for your bra clasp on your back, unhooking it with ease and allowing it to quickly fall to the floor, only to be kicked out of the way.

You pull your lips away from Eddie’s to chase Steve’s, removing his shirt before kissing him with absolute hunger, causing him to groan into your mouth.

“Fuck, we have to stop before we don’t get anything recorded.” You giggle before walking over to the tripods. “Eddie, take his pants off.” You demand before you’re waiting behind the camera for the perfect time to hit the button.

Once Steve’s pants are off and he’s down to his black Calvin Klein briefs, you order them in what position to stand in; both facing the camera, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, beside your bed.

You hit the record button on both phones then saunter up to them, placing a kiss to each of their lips before dropping to your knees.

You look up at both boys as you bring your hands to rub them over their boxers, making them both hiss simultaneously.

You pull Steve’s cock out first and big boy is right! He has one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen, and it instantly makes your mouth water. It’s so pretty and thick with the pinkest head, totally reminds you of how pink his cheeks get when he’s shy. God, it makes you want to stick his cock so far down your throat and never come back up for air.

Instead you kiss the tip before looking up at him, and licking away the yummy bead of precum that sits on his pretty pink slit. You make a whole show of it while holding it on the tip of your tongue so he and Eddie can see, before sensually bringing it into your mouth, moaning at the taste, “mmm, you taste so good.” You purr, as you take him fully into your mouth.

Both boys moan out at your little display.

You give Steve a couple hard sucks to his head before taking him back into your throat, bobbing your head and letting him fuck your mouth until your eyes water.

“Holy fuck.” The pretty boy groans as his head falls back, he places a rough hand through your hair and tightens the strands between his fingers.

Eddie, ever the impatient one, slides his checkered boxers down his legs and strokes at his hard almost equally girthy and long cock a couple times before he’s grabbing a handful of your hair and making you instantly pop off of Steve’s cock and on to his.

“That’s right baby, let us use you.” He groans as he begins fucking your throat.

You had all talked about this that night at the diner, you told them you enjoyed being used, you wanted them to pass you back and forth like a whore.

Eddie had a nice chuckle at that.

The curly haired boy grabs his phone off your side table, before opening the camera and hitting record as he continues to fuck your throat. All that could be heard were gawking noises and Eddie’s pretty moans and groans, after getting a close up shot of you pulling off of his cock and gasping for air as a string of spit falls out of your mouth and onto your tits.

Eddie passes the phone to Steve silently telling him to record.

Once his hands are free he cups underneath your chin and threads his ringed fingers back into your hair as he begins to fuck your throat with reckless abandon.

“Oh my fucking god, your throat baby. And no fucking gag reflex? Just taking it all aren’t you?” He growls as his head falls down towards his chest, getting a good look at how your tears have caused your makeup to smudge and smear, it’s the hottest thing the guys have ever seen.

“My turn.” Steve demands pulling you off from a particularly deep thrust Eddie had made, spit falling in strings to the floor and your thighs, but most landing on your tits, nipples so peaked and wet with your drool.

“Fuck yeah, get back on my cock you little slut.” Holy shit, where did shy little steve go? Cause whoa, you think you might like this version even better.

Steve fucks your throat until it’s sore before Eddie’s bringing you back to him, stuffing your face into his balls as you licked and sucked at them. “That’s right, dirty girl. Suck my balls. Fuck.”

You give a few more swipes of your tongue to his sensitive sack before you take both balls into your mouth, lightly sucking until you hear the sounds of smacking above you. Looking up to the beautiful sight of them making out, tongues and spit being passed back and forth, gives you a good idea.

You slip Eddie’s balls out of your mouth before grabbing both of their cocks at the base, they both look so huge with your dainty hands wrapped around them.

You bring both cocks up to your mouth, fitting them in as you open your mouth to maximum capacity. They break their filthy kiss as they groan, both sets of eyes falling down on you as you fit two huge cocks into your very skilled mouth, deepthroating as spit drips down their cocks.

“Such a messy girl.” Eddie tsks, as they simultaneously thread their hands into your hair, pushing you even deeper on their cocks, making their cock heads rub together so beautifully inside your mouth.

You remove your mouth again as you begin gasping for air. Steve still has the pov camera on you, as you begin to rub their spit soaked, pink cock heads together.

“Two of the prettiest cocks I’ve ever seen.” You say up at the camera with a giggle, making both boys smile and groan down at you.

You suck at Steve’s balls next as you continue to jerk both boys' cocks in each hand.

“Okay fuck. Get up here baby.” Steve growls as he lifts you up by your hair, not gentle whatsoever which is exactly what you asked him for.

Eddie pushes you down onto your bed, your butt sliding along the black silk sheets as you laugh at their absolute desperation; they need you as much as you need them, you can feel that want in the air.

Eddie wants you, Steve wants you, you want them and they want each other. It’s a beautiful dynamic. One you could get used to.

Focus.

“Let’s remove these pretty panties baby, need to see that even prettier pussy.” Eddie murmurs before he bends down and plants a sweet kiss to your inner thigh and another one on the other to match before he’s spreading your legs back towards your shoulders.

You’re certainly not used to your co stars being so soft and sweet towards you, it makes the throb in your clit amplify and your heart race with an unknown feeling.

“Fuck, look at that.” Eddie groans as your slick soaked pussy is now fully on display for both boys, making their eyes roll back at the way your sticky folds part with strings of your arousal keeping them connected, Steve is licking at his lips like a man ready to devour a four course meal.

It’s not a secret that both boys miss pussy, they love each other's bodies, no doubt about that. Steve loves getting stretched out on Eddie’s cock and Eddie loves to do the stretching, but fuck if they don’t miss the taste and feel of pussy too. They often talk about it in the throes of their passion, about how nice it would be for Steve to have a pussy to fuck into while he’s getting his guts rearranged by the metalhead, that kinda talk makes the pretty boy cum over Eddie’s fist every time, as he tries his best to mimick the warmth and tightness of a pussy with his hand, all while whispering absolute filth into Steve’s ear.

“Move up onto your pillows, sweet girl.” Eddie suggests as his fingers trace the red jewel attached to the plug that is nestled deep between your cheeks. You’re not really sure what they have in mind but you’re so far gone and you’re totally willing to give up all control to these two men, another thing you never do.

Once your head hits your pillows, your hair is fanned out around you and both boys are still eyeing your body like a snack, you slowly open your legs, hiking them up towards your shoulders like Eddie had you on the edge of the bed but this time both your arms keep them pulled back. They lick their lips as their cocks twitch at your flexibility, something they’ve seen in your videos as long time subscribers of yours.

“Jesus.” Steve whispers under his breath, grabbing the pov phone and walking on his knees to get a closer look for the camera and let’s be honest, himself.

“Damn, look at that soaking fucking wet pussy, it’s so ready to be fucked isn’t baby?” Steve asks as he brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing soft circles into it, making you jolt up as your eyebrows knit together and a pretty moan falls from your open lips.

“Yes, it’s so ready.” You agree with your subby little breathy voice they love so much.

“Soon baby, first we gotta get our tongues on you.” Eddie says as he come up to rest beside Steve, and if you think this is going where you think it is, it is very fucking welcome.

Steve removes his thumb from your clit, sticking it into his boyfriend's mouth, making Eddie moan around the younger boy's finger, at your taste.

They both lay on their stomachs between your hiked up legs, Steve has his hand on the outside of one thigh and Eddie has his hand on the other, they both bring their heads in at the same time to lick at your clit. The tip of their tongues rub against each other while your puffy sensitive clit is between their soft pink muscles, making your toes curl and your back arch from the intense pleasure.

“Fuck!” You moan loudly as you take the abandoned pov camera and point it down towards the boys, as they both look up at you.

Eddie winks and you’re not sure if it’s for the camera or for you but you continue to watch them on the screen, as they share and bully your clit. Steve spits on it making Eddie lick it up and off your throbbing bud, they both begin soft licks before Eddie grabs Steve’s head and pulls him in for a sloppy kiss, their faces still so close to your pussy you can feel Eddie’s stubble rub against your clit, making you moan out louder.

“Mmm, I gotta get an even better taste of your pussy.” Eddie mewls as he brings his tongue down to your hole, fucking you with it while Steve begins to lap at your pink swollen bud, again.

You’ve never felt such pleasure before.

“Holy shit, I’m g-g-gonna c-cum!” You whine as both boys speed up their ministrations.

“Mmm, cum for us, pretty girl.” Steve moans into your pussy.

Eddie removes his tongue bringing it back up to slide against Steve’s on your clit, before plunging two fingers inside of you and curling them, instantly hitting your sweet spot, making you thrust your hips up to chase their tongues and Eddie’s magic fingers.

“Fuck, I’m c-cumming!” You begin to shake, as your legs fight Eddie and Steve’s strong hands that are holding them down towards the bed.

They lick and finger fuck you through the longest and most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, before they’re removing their mouths and Eddie’s removing his fingers.

Steve opens his mouth with his tongue hanging out, like an obedient little slut as Eddie plunges his fingers into the pretty boy’s mouth making Steve close his lips and expertly sucks on the two fingers that were just deep inside you. It’s so fucking hot.

And you’re filming it all with the pov camera for your viewers pleasure, but let’s be honest it’s mainly for yours.

There’s no way you won’t look back on this video as you play with your vibrator in the exact position you’re in now, absolutely no way.

“I’ve gotta get my cock inside you.” Eddie pouts as he lays down towards the end of the bed in between both cameras as they focus on him perfectly.

You were excited to try this position you had all talked about, it’s not one you saw much of in mmf threesomes so you were happy to do something a little different.

You straddle Eddie’s waist, sitting on his thighs as his cock rests so prettily against his happy trail, reaching all the way up to his belly button. You let your eyes roam his body and the insane amount of tattoos that cover every inch of skin, they all look like they belong in some kind of fantasy novel.

Steve finally straddles Eddie’s face, his leaky cock sitting just above Eddie’s mouth as his pink asshole is displayed for you. You’ve given a couple rim jobs but holy shit, if you weren’t gonna enjoy eating Stevie’s little hole the most.

Steve’s head was resting face down in your pillows, but he had it angled to where you can see his reactions to all the pleasure you and Eddie were about to give him.

At almost the same time you grab Eddie’s cock that continues leaking copious amounts of precum, Eddie grabs Steve's from between his thighs.

You slowly sink down onto Eddie’s warm throbbing sex, before he's shoving Steve into his mouth to the hilt. Eddie groans around Steve’s cock as Steve groans out from Eddie’s mouth.

Finally when you’re stretched and ready to start moving you lower your head, bringing your tongue to Steve’s pretty, smooth hole giving it a couple licks before prodding it with the tip of your tongue.

“Fuck, that so fucking good!” The pretty boy groans into your silk pillows as they get wet from the drool that drips from the side of his mouth.

While you’re rolling your tongue back and forth from Steve’s hole, over his gooch and towards his balls, Eddie expertly fucks Steve with his mouth.

Finally, the metalhead plants his feet onto the bed before he starts fucking up into your soaked pussy, making you moan out so loud, if you weren’t so cock drunk on these two men you’d probably be embarrassed.

“Jesus Christ, your pussy feels amazing!” Eddie groans after popping off of Steve’s cock to catch his breath.

Eddie continues to pound into you, the angle you’re in is allowing him to hit your g spot perfectly, over and over until suddenly he has to stop, causing you to whine as you sloppily lap at Steve’s puckered hole.

“I’m gonna cum, I gotta switch positions.” He whispers into Steve’s inner thigh before he gives it a sweet kiss, all while landing a swift playful swat to your ass, causing your fucked out wet cunt to rub against his shaft that’s still dripping with your juices.

You quickly make your way off of Eddie so he can stand up, you’re allowing the boys to have full control as they seem to be very eager and excited for what’s happening, so you sit on your bed as your wet thighs and slick cunt ruin your sheets, waiting for directions.

“On all fours, now.” Eddie demands with a growl in his throat that could get you to do just about anything.

He walks to the dresser to grab the bottle of lube before making his way back with a devious smirk on his face, one that has you vibrating from the inside out.

“You’re gonna suck Stevie’s pretty cock while I double dip your pretty holes, how’s that sound princess?” He says as his hands come up to rub on your exposed ass cheeks, giving the right one a harsh smack. “I said how’s. that. sound?” He spits through his teeth,

“S-sounds good! Please!” Your needy whimper makes both boys laugh, causing your cheeks to heat up. But you couldn’t lie, you loved the degrading feeling of it all.

“Such a needy little thing, isn’t she, baby?” Eddie smirks up towards his boyfriend who’s now laying flat on his back, the metalhead slowly removes your plug before pouring lube on his two fingers and bringing them to your still too tight rim.

“So fucking needy.” Steve agrees with a teasing laugh.

He prods at you with the tips of his fingers, slowly sinking two into your needy hole.

“Mmm.” Is all the only sound you can make around Steve’s girthy cock as Eddie begins fucking you on his long appendages.

Once you’re even more stretched to his liking, Eddie removes his fingers causing you to gasp from the equal amounts of pain and pleasure.

He grabs the meat of your cheeks, two handfuls pulling them apart as far as they’ll go before spitting right onto your already lubed up hole. The surprise action makes you yelp and buck your hips.

“Uh uh, none of that moving shit.” He tsks with a harsher slap to your ass, “you’re gonna lay there and take it like a good little slut, understand?” He grits before you can feel his breath harshly fan over the globe of your right cheek, he bites at the meat but it quickly turns into a rough suck, as he worships your ass while you continue to bob on Steve’s cock and occasionally tongue his hole.

“Yes sir!” You whine after popping off of one of Steve’s balls. You can tell the pretty boy is losing all resolve and he’s seconds away from cumming in your mouth, but you need them both inside of you, so you lazily stroke his cock with your hand as Eddie begins to push into your ass, causing you to cry out into Steve’s thigh.

“Oh fuck, that’s it baby, take it.” The metalhead spits before he’s grabbing your hair and pulling you back, making you release your hand from Steve’s throbbing cock, causing him to whimper in frustration.

Your back is now flushed with Eddie’s chest as he continues to move you with the handful of hair he has a hard unforgiving grip on. He harshly turns your head bringing your lips to his for a dirty, sloppy, mostly tongue, kiss.

“Mmm, you taste so good on our girl’s lips, Stevie.” Eddie groans as him and his boyfriend make eye contact while he continues to fuck deeper into your ass.

You’re so far gone you couldn’t even register or put any further thought into our girl.

“You both look so fucking hot together.” Steve confesses as he bites down on his bottom lip and takes his painfully hard cock into his own hand to stroke.

Eddie gives you one more kiss before he’s pushing your head back down into the mattress and taking his cock out before shoving it into your pussy, giving it a few strokes then moving back into your asshole and repeating. Your eyes roll back into your head as you whimper and moan into your sheets.

Steve comes up beside you to push your hair out of your face, pov camera in hand as he passes it to Eddie in order to get a good close up of the way he’s switching between your holes.

“Hi, pretty girl.” He coos with a soft smile, “You’re doing so fucking good, taking his cock so good, baby.” His praises cause you to tense up and shake, cunt and asshole squeezing Eddie like a vice.

“Don’t you fucking cum yet, hold it!” Eddie scolds, as he dips his cock one more time into your asshole, another harsh slap to your already burning skin.

Eddie pulls out of you, motioning for Steve to follow him. He whispers into his ear off camera, making the pretty boy hum and nod in agreement, a sly smirk gracing both of their faces.

“Come on, angel. Up.” Eddie demands with a snap of his fingers, you’re up and off the bed in a matter of seconds as you stand before both boys, stark naked aside from your thigh highs.

Eddie lays down on his back, still facing the cameras like he was when you rode him, but this time they’re both guiding you to sit on him while you also face the cameras, your ass on full display for the metalhead.

Steve grabs Eddie’s extremely stiff shaft as you straddle him backwards, he teasingly guides Eddie through your slick folds before he’s inserting the long haired boy's cock into your sopping wet pussy.

As you sink down slowly causing the boy behind you to hiss in pleasure, Steve guides your feet onto Eddie���s knees as your hands go back on Eddie’s chest to help keep you balanced.

Once you’re fully impaled on his cock, his silver rings slide against your delicate skin as he holds the backs of your knees up causing your feet to dangle in the air, giving Steve and the cameras the perfect view of eddie fucking into you, and all the pretty faces you’ll make.

Steve drops down to his knees as he observes the way Eddie’s cock squelches in and out of you and how tight you’re gripping him, along with the white ring of your arousal that has gathered at the end of Eddie’s shaft, Steve just wants to lick it off, and he will.

Eddie bounces you by the backs of your knees a couple more times before he’s lifting you up, his cock plops out of you but is quickly retrieved by Steve who takes it into his mouth, moaning as he tastes you and Eddie’s mixture, so heady and earthy but oh so fucking sweet.

He gives Eddie a few strokes before he moves up to lick at your pussy, shoving his tongue inside of you and shoveling some of your wetness out, savoring the delicious taste before he puts Eddie’s cock back inside of you, only to be bounced some more.

Eddie continues hitting your sweet spot, but you’re trying so hard, so fucking hard not to cum.

“That’s it baby, hold it for me. Hold it and I promise I’ll make you see fucking stars…me and Steve both will, okay?…fuck.” Eddie encourages with broken gasps.

He lifts you by the knees again, this time Steve eagerly pulls Eddie from your cunt and laps up your addicting flavor, rolling his tongue up from Eddie’s cock and into your folds, going straight to the source of the sweet nectar he craves, and then rolling his tongue from your clit down to eddies cock and sucking.

“Fuck you’re such a good boy, Stevie.” Eddie groans as his fingers dig into your skin where he still has a hold on you.

“Mmm, I could eat pussy and suck cock all day.” He hums in contentment, making you and Eddie giggle at his fucked out tone.

“That’s right, my little slut boy. Always so eager for daddy’s cock aren’t you?” Eddie chuckles in satisfaction “and now you have the prettiest cunt to eat from… fuck, daddy’s just spoiling you, aren’t I?”

Eddie’s words cause you to moan as you throw your head back, he had a fucking mouth on him and you loved every second of it!

“Mm, I think pretty girl over here likes that.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, before Steve is shoving Eddie’s cock back inside of you, the metalhead begins bouncing you back on his cock but this time he fucks up in to you, making you whimper and babble incoherent words.

“Do you, huh slut? You want me to be your daddy, too? Own this pussy and fuck it whenever I want?” Eddie groans as he throws his head back at how fucking good you feel, he can’t even believe he’s lasted this long, but fuck he’s trying his best to impress you, and maybe just maybe you’ll wanna do this with them again.

“Yes, daddy! Please!” You sob as your legs begin to shake, again.

Both boys practically growl at your words, they fucking love the idea of you being their’s.

Eddie lifts you one more time before he orders Steve to grab the lube and lather his cock with it, once Steve’s done he’s guiding Eddie’s cock into your asshole, watching with hungry eyes as you sink back down onto the metalhead. He’s so turned on by the way the ring of your hole looks being filled to the max by his boyfriend. God, it was so fucking hot.

Steve gives a quick lick to your puckered stretched out skin and up to Eddie’s exposed shaft, mid thrust before he adds a gentle kiss to your clit.

He stands up and gives his cock a couple strokes before he’s guiding himself into your pussy, to help his boyfriend stuff you full, until you’re cumming all over their cocks. Fuck, he couldn’t wait.

You all moan out in tandem as both boys fuck into you, Eddie still holding your trembling legs up and Steve is now holding you around your waist as you both moan into eachothers mouths.

Their thrusts get harder the closer you all get to your glorious releases.

“Oh fuck, okay baby, cum for us. Cmon.” Eddie growls, as his thrusts get even harder.

You’re all so fucked out and ready to cum as the moans throughout the room get louder.

Steve hasn’t stuck his cock in a pussy in years and he’s about two seconds from embarrassing himself and cumming the hardest he has in awhile.

Eddie’s trying his best to hold out, too. But your asshole keeps gripping him and he can feel Steve’s cock through your walls, and his big mouth wants to tell him how good he feels through you, but he knows if he vocalizes it, it’ll make both boys cum in an instant.

“Oh my god!” You finally wail as your legs shake so intensely, Eddie and Steve have to hold them still for you.

“There you go baby, cmon, give it to us.” Steve groans, as he brings his fingers down to your clit drawing soft circles to the overly sensitive pink bud.

Steve’s fingers bring you closer to the edge as a familiar burning in your belly courses through you.

You can barely hold your body up anymore as you tremble and shake, eyes rolling into the back of your head as that all consuming peak hits you harder than it ever has, a splash of liquid shoots out of you like a waterfall onto Steve’s stomach and down on Eddie’s thighs, causing both boys to gasp and moan in complete bliss as they now use you for their own gratification.

Steve loses it first with a loud whimper as his head falls back in pleasure, his beautiful head of hair swishing around on his forehead as he shoots his warm load of cum deep inside of you.

After Steve pulls out and takes a seat up amongst the pillows at the head of your bed, Eddie puts you into a complete full nelson as his hands lace behind your head, he fucks even deeper into you causing you both to scream out in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Eddie howls as his hips come to a complete stop while buried deep inside of your tight, warm hole that continues to suck him in as he cums so much it begins to drip down his shaft. Getting the perfect shot for the cameras that are still rolling.

Eddie gently lifts you off, laying you on the bed close to Steve’s legs as you cling to them, peppering them with soft kisses while Steve runs a soothing hand through your hair.

Eddie takes his phone and records the white creamy cum that seeps from both of your used holes.

Fuck, he feels his cock twitch at the sight of you.

You’re a complete mess and both of your holes are leaking his and his boyfriend’s cum. He swears if this never happens again with you, this will be at the top of his spank bank for the rest of his life.

Eddie gets up to stop the cameras, coming back to give you and Steve a quick kiss before he’s going into your bathroom to search for a rag to clean you up with. He comes out with one of your rolled up white ones that are specifically for decoration, but you don’t have the heart to tell him they’re not to be used.

He brings the wet rag down between your legs and wipes until there’s no more cum seeping from your holes.

“I think this was the best collab I’ve ever done, like my subscribers are gonna love this! Thank you both so much.” You shyly say as you look from one boy to another.

“Of course baby, anytime.” Eddie says with a beaming smile.

“So, my best friend’s having a little hang out, smoke sesh at her house and she invited all of us after we were done with our fuck fest.” You say as you put fuck fest in air quotes, playfully rolling your eyes, making both boys to chuckle in amusement.

“We actually wanted to pop open the champagne and hang out with you, after. I also brought a little treat of my own.” Eddie teases as he picks his jeans up off of the floor and digs in one of the pockets, pulling out a nicely rolled blunt.

He waves it around with a bounce of his eyebrows, as if trying to entice you, before he sticks it behind his ear, for later.

“Okay, that sounds fun. I have a pool, we could go late night swimming.” You suggest to both boys, as they look at you in a way that sends the butterflies in your belly fluttering.

Steve breaks out into a big grin. “Fuck yeah, let’s go swimming.” He says as he jumps up out of your bed, reaching for his boxer briefs.

You stop him before he fully bends down, “how about late night skinny dipping?” You giggle when both boys eagerly nod in agreement.

“I like the way you think, baby.” Eddie says as he throws his arm over your shoulders, walking out of your room and down your stairs, with both boys at your side.

Steve grabs the champagne, then asks where he could find the flutes, before you’re all making your way outside into the fresh night air.

You flip the pool light on before you and Steve walk together, sitting side by side on the first step, warm heated water washing away the goosebumps that have formed on your leg as it rubs up against Steve’s.

He begins to pour you all a glass, as Eddie hands you his joint and lighter before he runs and jumps bare naked ass on display into the pool, making you and Steve cackle, you lay your head on his shoulder while you both continue to die of laughter.

“What are you both laughing at?” Eddie questions with a smirk and curious raise of his eyebrows.

“Your pasty ass.” You retort, making Steve laugh harder.

“Oh I see how it is, you’re ganging up on me now?” Eddie says with faux sadness as he swims closer to you and Steve, playfully grabbing both of your legs as if to try and drag you in, but you and Steve pull him in towards you.

Eddie kisses you first, as he holds your chin in place between his fingers, then he kisses Steve with the same amount of vigor, before Steve is kissing you.

You don’t think you can ever move on from this, it feels too right, like these are your people.

“So, about the roommate position?” Eddie inquires, “how would you feel if, say, two guys you know are very interested, like they would move in tomorrow if they could.” Both boys look at you with the biggest doe eyes, as if you’d say no, as if you wouldn’t want to have them live in this big lonely house with you, possibly starting a new chapter with these two men you have so quickly fallen for.

“I would say, abso-fucking-lutely.”

If your age is not in your bio, I did not tag you.

(Also, tagged everyone above age who interacted with the teaser of this)

taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @lil-quinnie @danielabrandt @prettypeachsworld @youare-hackskellington @sebs-oxygen @livsters @wheel-of-hyperfixation @imonhereforareasonsadly @kingdomkitten32 @munson-magic @tiannamortis @katwinchester64 @the-unforgivenn @micheledawn1975 @josephquinnsfreckles @jasminelafleur @emsgoodthinkin @manda-panda-monium @munsonsuccubus @teletubbysteroids @eddies-puppet @munsonssecretblog @eddieslittlewh0re @itsgonnabeoktodsy @randomworker @starrthemushroom @imaautisticchicken @creativename01 @m-chmcl-rmnc @emmerson-1 @siouxiesiouxtryhard @munsonology @pillow-titties @cherryc1nnam0n @wyverntatty @spicedandicedtea @justmeinadaze @violettaskies @bebe07011 @devilinthepalemoonlite @lunatictardis

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 | 𝟏

➯ HARRY EXPERIENCES THE BIGGEST LOSS OF HIS CAREER BUT HIS BEST FRIEND IS ALWAYS THERE TO SOFTEN THE BLOW. ✰ rugby!harry friends to lovers. minor warnings for somnophilia. heavy descriptions of size kink and harry being bigger than reader. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 5.2k ッ converted masterlist

Y/N watches from the sidelines, eyes ping-ponging to each side of the pitch as the ball makes its way back and forth, back and forth. Her lungs beg for fresh oxygen that she won’t grant them. France’s full-back pellets the ball high up into the air, straight into the arms of England’s full-back, England’s full-back wallops it back to France’s full-back. Y/N’s skin fucking burns with impatience—could someone just play the ball? Her gaze flits over the broad numbers littering the field… three—grass stains streaking across white—eight, twelve—blood streaming down temples—eleven, nine… Ten. 

Harry hangs back, intense, focused eyes following every movement of the ball; just like Y/N, only with pinpoint accuracy. He’s the decision maker of the team, the fly-half—the player that sets up most of the scores, who guides the play. One of the most important pieces of the puzzle and… he’s frazzled, Y/N can tell. By the slight mania in his widened eyes and the frantic point he stresses towards the other side of the pitch, desperate for his teammates to attack—to get some phases going, some passes—anything other than kick tennis.

France have had the upperhand all game. They’re the favourites, after all, and playing at their home ground—but this is the final game of the Six Nations. This is the win England need to set them up for the World Cup.

And they’re losing. They’ve been losing since the second minute when France scored a try from their own twenty two—their lightning fast winger weaving in and out of all of England’s defence to dive over the line—leaving his electric trail in a bolt behind him.

And now it’s the seventy eighth minute and France are two points ahead. Y/N knows why Harry is signalling so passionately—he is desperate to get the ball further down the opponent’s end of the field. If not to score then to force them to make an error, to give away a penalty. Anything to secure the win in the final two minutes.

She is practically barking orders at the players herself—only quietly under her breath instead of the way she is sure Harry is shouting. Every technique, every tactic—Y/N has observed them all. She knows that the clock ticks twice as fast in the final moments of a game. She knows that Harry’s close to losing control of the match completely—of losing that chance of evening the scoreline—and her heart is beating out of her chest watching it all unfold.

The ball finally makes its way into a player’s hands for more than two seconds. France don’t kick it away; their number nine makes a run for it—determined to end the game with an extra score on the board. He executes a dummy pass, feigning to throw the ball to his teammate and successfully losing England’s own nine that slips in the grass in his attempt to mark. Disarmingly quick for a small player, he gets all the way to the halfway line before being tackled.

And this… this is when everything changes. Y/N shoots up from her seat when he goes down—piled upon by white jerseys desperate to rip the ball right out of his hands. She holds her breath as he stays on the floor, can’t find the ball within the chaos—flits her eyes over to Harry who is standing in formation with the rest of the backs. His mouth moves a million miles a second, expression rampant, arms flailing as he screams at his players.

Just a little longer, just a little longer… “Come on, ref,” Y/N mutters under her breath, “blow the fucking whistle.” She watches the man in red do just that—bring the whistle up to his lips in a rapid motion, throwing his arm up in the air to favour England. 

A penalty. In the final minute. For England.

The stadium goes up in a cacophony of roars. Furious French moans drowned out by the deafening screams of the English. A rivalry as old as time goes down to the wire once again. Y/N’s heart pounds away inside of her ribs—hardly able to process the sight of Harry and his team celebrating—the relieved clenching of his fists.

Waterboys rush onto the pitch, slinging the kicking tee to Harry’s awaiting palms. Time continues to pass—the clock sure to enter the red before he’s made contact with the ball that he meticulously balances at the perfect angle. Y/N has watched Harry perform a thousand kicks and yet nothing will ever quell the gut-churning anxiety she feels during these moments in a match. To witness the mass of eighty thousand people reduced to murmurs as Please respect the kicker appears on every screen in sight. To watch Harry, his routine—because every fly-half has one—the way he eyes up the ball, angles himself, blocks out the world around him to draw that invisible line from the ball to the posts… it's an honour and a damnation.

And Y/N is always nervous to watch him kick, but right now, her body feels as though it might start emanating electricity. Harry’s a near perfect shot. His success rate is one of the highest in the game—past and present—but… This angle is, for lack of a better word, fucked. He’s practically kissing the touchline, ball facing a direction you would not expect to be the correct one. But Harry prepares himself, positioned with the posts nearly behind him, ready to curve it just right.

Then he kicks it—he boots it as all kickers do. And it bends. It curves in the air, slicing through it like soft, melted butter. Y/N goes deathly still—time slows down—she’s only half-aware of the screens showing the clock tick over to red. The ball soars, heading straight for the posts, it glides like it has fucking wings—

And then it collides heavily against the left post and bounces back into play. Straight into French hands.

He’s missed. He’s—missed. Y/N’s exhale comes out as some sort of wet exasperation, hands flying to cover her cheek in pure disbelief. No. The stadium cries out so loudly she can hardly hear herself think. All she can see is Harry. The way he crouches down and pinches the bridge of his nose as France kicks the ball out of play and the referee blows the final whistle.

It’s over. All those weeks, all those games, all that fighting. Just to lose it on the last kick of the game. Y/N can’t believe her eyes. 

“You’ve got this, Harry. You’ve got this. Don’t even worry. Y’the best England have seen since Farrell.”

She betrayed him by encouraging such a statement, she’s sure (despite the fact of it). Maybe it got to him; the pressure. The kind of pressure Y/N hoped would be helpful. The truth being that he is the best player they have right now. He’s breaking records, he’s setting new standards, he is the bright, shining new star. But maybe that’s too much to place on a person’s shoulders. Even on the breadth of Harry’s.

The pitch starts hurtling closer and it’s only then that Y/N processes the speed in which her legs are stampeding towards Harry. She can’t get at all as close as she yearns to be—reaching the edge of the box with an aching chest. Not with anger, not with disappointment. With sadness for her friend, for her best friend. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, a night of euphoria and drunkenness and laughter.

All Y/N can see is Harry’s sullen face as his teammate hauls him up and slaps him heavily on the back—no gentility from the hardness of a rugby player. The teams shake hands and France take a victory lap around the pitch, celebrating with fans whilst the award podium is set up. All Y/N wants to do is get to Harry but England have to stand there and watch France lift the trophy. She glances at it now with disdain.

It’s always a struggle to find Harry after a match—sometimes he’s got press to do, sometimes he’s being ushered into the changing rooms, sometimes he strolls around the pitch with his team, taking photos with fans. Y/N always waits, always watches with stars in her eyes. Nothing ever quite matches the rapid beat of her heart when she gets to observe him in his element; after a win.

But today they’ve lost. And today, Harry doesn’t linger. He doesn’t even let himself get pulled aside for pitchside interviews—lucky that the captain is hounded first. Y/N can already see the headlines. Styles Sulks After Shattering Six Nations Defeat. His hands clapping for France but the line of his mouth hard and the sheen of his eyes glossed over. She knows the noise all fades into the background for him, his mind is elsewhere—body desperate to join.

Her own knows the feeling; too far away from him to relax as their magnetic forces pull towards one another. Keeping her feet planted firmly on the ground is a hard task, when the only focused object in her vision is the outline of Harry. And as soon as he makes that first step towards the tunnel, she’ll make sure to run through anyone who stands in her way.

Getting to Harry’s hotel room proves harder than it should be. Y/N had wasted her time looking for him anywhere else—of course he wouldn’t have wanted to go to an afterparty. To celebrate what? A crushing loss? France’s pilfering victory? Entering a room as Harry Styles might as well be the equivalent of shitting on a plate and offering it around like some kind of hors d'oeuvres. Charm is usually his specialty but it’s no surprise that he chose to hide himself away as soon as the opportunity arose—to take back what little control he has over today and deny prying eyes passing judgement where he can see them.

She thinks, for a moment, that he’s not going to answer the door and her sympathy nearly bubbles into misguided anger before she alters its path. She is so frantic to reach him that it feels like a waste of time to stand still for even a second. But the soft padding of socked feet against carpet sounds from behind the thick wood, and the click of a lock as the door gives way to reveal the image of a forlorn Harry.

He’s so tall, and so broad, and his personality is larger than life—but right now… Right now, Harry looks small. His shoulders weigh heavy and his posture slumps forward, and despite the fact of his towering height, Y/N doesn’t feel so dwarfed in his presence right now. Neither of them say anything; both waiting for the other to speak up first but neither does. Y/N just stands there… in the hallway, suspended in a moment, looking at Harry with sad eyes as his fingers linger on the door handle.

And then she throws her arms around his hulking shoulders and feels his chest deflate against her own expanding one, as she breathes, “I’m sorry, Harry.”

He doesn’t reply—what is there to say? Nothing positive or optimistic, only bashes to his performance, his ability as a player. Instead, he curls his arms around her back; an immediate solace to breathe in the wash of her scent, the soft of her hair as he buries his nose against her crown. His biceps squeeze around her, compressing the bones in her body with a heavenly kind of weight. Small in his arms but big enough to provide comfort. Always the biggest part of his heart, the place he goes to for relief.

Every exhale against her head bleeds warmly into her scalp, seeping down to her toes and regulating her heartbeat. Weightlessness is a common feeling in the presence of Harry, more often physically than not, as he pulls her off the tips of her toes and carries their embrace to the foot of the hotel bed. The door clicking shut serves as a reminder of the outside world; of time continuing to tick away despite the silence that blankets the room they’re in. Y/N removes her hands from Harry’s nape as he sits down, his own paws lingering on the plush of her hips. His eyes are sad, tired, embarrassed. Y/N doesn’t recognise him like this.

“Kev is gonna kill me,” Harry laughs with exasperation, a hand dragging itself down his face. It’s not often that he finds himself on coach’s bad side—he’s not sure he ever really has. He’s well disciplined, a little too cheeky sometimes, perhaps, but manages to ride the line with ease. He works hard, he trains hard, he respects the game and lives to improve with every new day. (Y/N once joked that Harry would struggle getting on the bad side of a wasp; could charm his way out of a potential sting without breaking a sweat.)

She breathes softly, fingertips carding through freshly washed hair; a shower the only thing he could force himself to do after the loss. “Kevin is not going to kill you. You’re his best player.”

It’s hard not to let his sigh turn into a moan with the way she handles him with such tenderness. There’s no fight, none at all, when he closes his eyes and lets her scratch his scalp. “Not supposed to sulk about it. Got t’get up and move on. Prepare for the next thing.”

A gentle tug at the back of his head, not painful, but stern. He looks up at her figure between his legs. “Harry, you can be upset, it’s okay.”

“Can’t be grumpy tomorrow.”

“Just for tonight then.”

It works. He huffs, “I fuckin’—” falling backwards and pulling Y/N’s body with him. She holds back her affronted squeal, palms landing on either side of his shoulders. “—ruined it for everyone.”

“No you did not.” It’s not fair to berate him but Y/N has never been one to allow self-deprecation. That was reserved for herself, and herself only. Her palm meets his chest lightly as she frowns, “You didn’t ruin anything, are you kidding? You kept that match alive.”

“And then I bottled it! Right at the bloody end.”

Her smile is sad; wishing for thaumaturgy to run through her veins—or the ability to turn back time. “And next time the posts won’t get in the way.”

“Hm. Not funny. Might not even be a next time. I’ll probably get dropped for this.”

“No, you won’t, don’t be silly. If everyone got dropped for a single mistake, you’d have no fucking players left.”

It falls silent for a while, their embrace a steady rising and falling of chests—like a dingy floating down a lazy river. Harry strokes up and down her back, as though she’s the one that needs reassurance. It feels nice all the same. The only thing Y/N can do is let her weight settle atop of his hefty body, trying to breathe as deeply as her lungs can manage in hopes that Harry’s heart will mirror. Of course, she’s kidding herself into believing she is any sort of definition of calm, but her mind hasn’t quite caught up yet. Maybe it’s the humidity that forces the catch of her breath as Harry shifts beneath her—maybe it’s the pollen count. Probably the pollen count.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs after a moment, mindless hands fidgeting amongst her clothes. The layers she’d meticulously arranged to combat the brandishing winds have untucked themselves from the denim of her jeans. Harry’s fingers slip underneath and brush against the silken skin of her waist. He sighs, speaking once more before Y/N can hum her agreement, “You’re so soft.”

There are unspoken lines in relationships, right? Boundaries, expectations, societal normalities. Y/N has lost count over the years, how often herself and Harry have been mistaken for a couple. It alludes to something deeper than neither of the two have ever addressed. And the line… it’s never been crossed but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been toed upon. The waters aren’t as cold as they’ve been before. Y/N’s cheeks warm with the comfort of hiding in her best friend’s chest. The things he says always make her skin thrum with unbridled energy; there’s just something about the way he wields words that has her feeling special. But she hides it with great effort; yearns to maintain a cooler front, perhaps to match her counterpart and appear a worthy equal beside Harry’s coveted self. Being described as soft isn’t an inherently romantic thing—it’s simply a statement—but Harry hums it so freely, like her softness is the salve for all of his cuts and scrapes. The delicacy of a girl, his girl, it’s enough to plaster over the disappointment of his day, because bigger things matter more.

In moments like these, Y/N could reply with a myriad of things. She sure as hell hears a million and one of them pinging around her head. Maybe she’s cowardly, or maybe she’s sensible—she adopts a jibing approach, “It helps not to roll yourself around a muddy field every day.”

“Charming. We’re not pigs, you little shit.” She makes him laugh, a huffed exhale, but a humoured noise nonetheless. Her lips curl up into his neck and she pretends that he’s happy for just a moment. 

When the lull of silence passes and Harry starts to shuffle beneath her, a sense of panic morphs to desperate distraction—not too dissimilar to the reaction of an overworked mother catching her toddler on the verge of bouncing its wails off the walls like some twisted sort of hyena mimicry—she waves a brightly coloured toy in front of his face, equipped with all kinds of bells and whistles.

His pecs indent with the pads of her fingers as she pushes herself up and plasters on an exaggerated grin that can only preface mischief, wiggling her eyebrows, “Want a massage?” ever the unalluring as her drawl tiptoes into the boundaries of offensively inaccurate Northern, “Hm? Free of charge.”

A blip of relief radiates through Y/N’s chest like the echo of a submarine when the corners of Harry’s mouth twitch upwards; in response to the sudden animation of her movements or the laxation that comes promised with her proposition, she’s not sure. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he hums, neck propped up lazily by the palm of his hand, “They’re all free of charge.”

She runs with this fragment of a game—practically bullies herself into a sprint as she nods, “You should be grateful I’m not charging you by the minute. I studied for years.”

She did study for years, and Harry’s never been more grateful for it—selfishly cashing in all the massages he can get. “And look—” 

“Roll over—” she hoists her hips up to alleviate her weight, off of his body so he can do as she says and shuffle onto his front.

“—Where you’ve ended up.” It’s a self-deprecating thought, not one to banter or jibe, despite being disguised as such. Holed up in lacklustre Room 143, frittering time away with a subpar athlete. Harry’s lucky she’s here lest he dig himself into an even deeper hole.

“I know…” her sigh is light, completely oblivious to Harry’s thoughts only a mere skull’s width away, “so tragic.”

It’s quiet again after that, the vacant hotel air perforated with an occasional thick exhale from Harry’s pouting mouth as Y/N’s hands work through knots and kinks over the breadth of his back. He tries to fight sleep but she presses in harder, just shy of too hard, just enough to melt the taut into goo. When those breaths start coating themselves in gravel, the air catching on his larynx on its way out, and salaciously undiluted hums turn to feathery grunts—Y/N feels smug when she does that to a person—especially when it’s Harry.

Y/N doesn’t have to ask what he wants when she orders room service. Five years of friendship lends itself to the memorisation of eating habits. He’s tired after the massage, muscles heavy and bones squishy, when her efforts to scoot him towards the headboard proved impossibly strenuous. It’s caught up with him like a wave crashing to the shore—all-consuming; submerging. Harry drowns in it entirely, can barely keep his eyes open long enough to shovel his cheat dinner into his mouth. The TV ends up screening old reruns of Friends. Y/N can tell Harry’s clocked out—mind traversing the depths of his insecurities—and it tugs her lips downwards to know she can’t distract him. Not even acting along to their favourite scene makes the smile reach his eyes. She unfocuses her own just to pretend she’s seeing what he is—the blur of the television, colours melting together in kaleidoscope swirls. Ross’ forlorn Hi pulls her out of it.

She feels bad for projecting; for expecting or hoping him to be okay. Of course, he’s not going to be okay. Okay is waking up on a Monday morning with time to buy yourself a treat for lunch before heading into your dreary office job. Harry’s not even knocking on the door of Oh-Kay. But it’s a useless feeling—to be witnessing misery so candidly with nothing worthwhile to offer as a fix. Then she looks over at him, prompted by a thick rumble, and it all goes quiet inside her head for a moment. He’s asleep—plate resting precariously over his lap. The waves catch up to her too, brows smoothing out to mirror the peace of Harry’s expression, and she knows it's time for bed.

Everything seems so much louder when you’re trying to be quiet. Y/N experiences that tenfold in the en-suite bathroom. Her toothbrush vibrates too hard, the water splashes too violently, the cap of her cleanser is obnoxious when it clicks shut. Harry peeks an eye open when she settles atop the covers once again; rosy notes clinging to the full of her soft cheeks, glowing in the soft vibrance of the bedside lamp she’d leant over his chest to click on. There’s no guilt on his face that might suggest he’s been awake for a while, and the rumble of his voice solidifies Y/N’s panic of disrupting his sleep.

“Sorry,” she winces, adjusting her bare knees on top of the sheets. Harry’s sleepy eyes flit down to the hem of her shorts brushing against the plush of her thighs. Then he shrugs a shoulder and extends his arm, beckoning her forward with a curl of his fingers. “Come on. Need a cuddle.” 

And Y/N falls into him easily—head tucked beneath his chin, open palm smoothing over his heart, just like that—as they both ignore the intimacy of their embrace.

Parisian sunlight doesn’t filter past Y/N’s eyelids when they twitch awake, fluttering open less than elegantly. The stitches of memories sew themselves back together piecemeal—too slowly to find it questionable—the caress of soft pads across the puff of her cheek. She thinks she grunts. 

It’s the moon that shows her. The silhouette of wide shoulders and a sloping neck; the sheer curtain enveloped with gentle pockets of wind that slip through the open window, billowing inwards. It pools across the carpet; cool moonlight, casting an unearthly glow along the bicep that reaches out.

Harry’s thumb brushes the girl’s feathery lashes, ducking beneath her undereye to stroke the skin there. It’s such a gentle awakening that Y/N feels heavy—half awake and half still dreaming—still floating through the clouds of her imagination. Weights tug her eyes shut again.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” a quiet murmur, not quite a whisper, the edges grisly but well-intentioned.

“...What time ‘s it?” The pillow sinks in further, weighted with the nuzzle of a nose and an overt inhale. Seasalt and sandalwood, from a little blue bottle—travel size—bathing the cotton covers and tucking Y/N safely into cushions of secure muscle and warm skin. 

“Not sure, go back t’sleep.”

Just enough of the day before creeps into the periphery of her consciousness, forcing the sleep away with an obvious disgruntled twitch. “Are you okay?”

Harry supplies a hum, noncommittal and faraway—too engrossed in the trail of his thumb against her cheek to provide much more. “What‘re you doing?” She whines, fighting the curl of her mouth with the principle of her pilfered slumber. Each nerve ending he passes over leaves bumps in his wake in an endearing betrayal.

“Don’t move,” he tuts when she wriggles her head some—ticklish. “I was thinking…” and if Y/N were less catatonic she’d quip something predictable to earn an answering pinch, “thinking that I’m really glad you’re here.” It’s a saving grace that her tongue lays heavy behind her lips. Harry’s timbre slicks itself over her, satiny like silk. Sincerity isn’t their forte most of the time. It makes her stiffen, anticipating what comes next. 

“I really love you.” 

The weight behind his words should be more startling—a stumble during an elegant figure skating routine—but it glides over the ice with ease, buttery and smooth. Y/N feels herself slipping under the cotton wool covers of unconsciousness with these words, a tiny smile evidence enough for Harry that she heard him, understood him. What might encourage a pregnant pause in the afternoon light, coaxes her back to sleep in the predawn.

It’s a sentiment untold, bearing new significance in the whisperings between sheets. His hotel room, now a honeymoon suite, perhaps—with promises of romantic views and crisp, white palettes bouncing light from wall to wall. Too much room for a newly wedded couple but grand in gesture and boundless in memory.

Only they’re not even lovers, let alone united in matrimony, and no newfound intimacy comes without question. But it’s two in the morning, or three, or four, and this all feels like some sort of beautiful dream—weightless—venturing beyond imagination. Maybe Y/N is dreaming, maybe she’s conquered the intricacies of lucid dreaming, maybe that’s why it isn’t scary to hear. Because it’s not entirely true. 

But it’s hard to imagine, to fabricate the pressing of lips against the corner of her mouth and the soft plumes of air tickling her cheek. And it’s even harder when those same lips knit themselves over her hairline and a winding forearm pulls her in closer into a grounding embrace. She falls asleep again before her brain can whir up enough to provide conclusion.

Harry sounds different when Y/N wakes up. He feels different too. He’s solid as ever, solid yet yielding around her own softer form, but there are new ridges where she’s never known them to be and skin rocking forwards to kiss curves. 

For a moment, it doesn’t register that this is… unusual. Y/N seems to process it twice. 

Once with a sense of nonchalance. 

Oh, Harry’s humping me in his sleep.

And once with an urgent kind of astonishment.

 Oh. Harry is humping me in his sleep. 

But that realisation doesn’t lend itself to her advantage. It doesn’t make her shoot upwards and scramble away before he realises. Because—sleepiness aside—it feels… it feels really good. His body is warm and his arms are tight around her waist; a security blanket made of bicep and sinewy forearm. But it’s wrong to enjoy him like this, without his permission, without his awareness. 

“Harry. Harry, wake up, you’re—”

“Y/N…” her name falls from his lips like a feather; a confession soft spoken.

“Yes,” but he’s not awake. “Harry,” she digs her fingernails into his wrist, hoping the pinch will stir his slumber but he only ruts into her harder, a groan catching in his throat.

“Baby—” Y/N gasps with his moan, muscles tightening, seizing with panic. The bump in his sweats knocks over the rounds of her bum, sleep shorts thin and easily mussed. She can feel them riding up with each roll that Harry gives and the voice in the back of her head telling her to let him… it only gets louder. 

He’s holding her so tight, entirely safe in his arms, so cardinal, so desired. It wouldn’t be so wrong of her to let him use her body like this. He deserves to feel good. She tells herself it’s not selfish, it’s not impolite of her to feel fulfilled too. There’s no control over what makes her body sing. But Harry seems to be pretty good at it, even in sleep. 

His breath is in her ear; it blankets over the slope of her shoulder, warm and seducing. It feels right to have Harry’s lips tucked against her neck, like it was always supposed to be there. What if the side of her neck never feels warm again. It’s the shift of her hips backwards, mistakenly, that arouses him. 

His body stills and the groans in his throat diminish as realisation dawns. But he’s not hurried, or stuttery in his movements. No, there’s no rush at all. A slight tumble over his words as he wakes up, “Oh sh—shit, m’sorry peaches,” and a stroke across the exposed skin of her stomach when he pulls back, “That’s my bad.” But that’s all he reveals, before untangling himself from the sheets.

Y/N coughs, splutters, over a response, unable to reply with anything that could be considered coherent. Her eyes are fighting to dart down when he stands. That’s my bad. His indifference, Y/N thinks, strikes a chord. But she doesn’t understand. Why her heart pounds harder and her legs squeeze tighter. Is she disappointed or is she disturbed? It’s too early to piece any of her feelings together. Her phone beams seven-forty when she taps the screen.

She rolls over onto her back, dragging her clammy palms over her face as Harry takes himself to the on-suite too casually. Her skin is all hot, roiling waves washing over her and strangling her thudding heart. The ghost of his body still presses against her, the hardness, the softness, all of it. The sounds he was making; new to her ears in all their time knowing one another. No amount of pretending could send her back to sleep now.

The bathroom fan whirs and Y/N can’t decide if she’s grateful or dismayed that she can’t make out any clear sounds. 

When Harry emerges, the dusting of rouge across his cheeks makes Y/N’s stomach flutter, eyes darting around the room to look at anything else. He clears his throat and brushes the back of his index finger under his nose. Y/N might believe he was trying not to laugh if she weren’t so mortified.

And then he actually speaks. He speaks to her and she has to acknowledge him. “I’ve got to get the coach back this mornin’.”

She swallows, “Yeah, mhm, okay.”

“Alright,” A keycard appears between his fingers, and then he places it on the console table, “y’can return this to the front desk f’me?” Y/N nods silently. She doesn’t watch Harry as he gets dressed, or as he shoves things into his bag. She doesn’t even sit up, mouth seemingly stuck open in a gape. “Okay, bye, see you later, stinky.”

“See you—” but the door has already clicked shut, “—later.”

[q1ngqve]

ᝰ VIP ROOM !

✶ 𓏲ּ ꩜ 𓂅 the penacony grand theater cordially invites you to V.I.P. room 2 this friday evening for a musical!

CW; fem! reader x penacony men (separated), vaginal penetration, fingering, slight degradation & voyeurism, vibrator, bondage, ‘daddy’ (only for gallagher)

𐙚 AVENTURINE

your gasps ring in his ears as he slides one of your leg onto his lap, spreading you apart effortlessly. his grip on your thigh is tight and steady, clearly having no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

snuggled next to him on the sofa, you feel his arm draped around you, holding both your wrists together, and smirking when you squirm to reach for your dress.

your eyes dart to his face, observing his furrowed brows and the angry smirk as he stares back into your eyes, clear jealousy written in those colourful irises. he leans in close, lips just inches apart from yours, and you feel his breathing turn erratic as his eyes darken, "you love teasing me, don't you?"

"I was just saying hi to an old friend..."

"did you not see the way he looked at you?"

your head shakes cautiously, nails digging softly into your own skin, "m' sorry." aventurine pecks you on your lips, the glossy lipstick staining his own in the process.

another whimper sounds as his gloved fingers slide under your thighs, the soft pads of his black gloves resting snugly against your clothed, pulsing nub. his smirk reappears when the wetness soaks through your panties and onto his gloves, soft squelching sounds reverberate in the VIP room.

your head falls against his shoulder, wrists still bound by his hand, legs spread and trembling on his lap. your boyfriend teases at your earlobes, nipping at the tender skin, sending shivers down your spine with each bite.

his deft fingers slides under your panties, and you hear him chuckle into your ear at how drenched you are for him, making it so easy for his two fingers to slip right into your warm hole.

"who do you belong to, hmm?"

he releases your wrists, the now free hand reaching up to your throat, pulling you closer to his face again.

"—you."

"good girl."

the air gets knocked out of your chest as he pushes you onto the sofa, his fingers still pumping and curling in your pussy harshly, his pace only increasing with each cry of his name you let out.

an embarrassing squelch sounds as he removes them, and you whine at the empty feeling inside you, the ring of muscle clenching at nothing as your hands reach for his nape.

"please— need you so bad..." a satisfied hum leaves him as he leans down to kiss your forehead, pushing his fingers in again without warning at the same time. your legs tense, and your toes curl, a loud moan escaping you, only to get muffled by him stuffing your dress into your mouth.

"all of this," his lips latch onto your neck as they suckle on the sensitive spots, "is for me," littering them with beautiful hickeys that he'll admire later on, "and me only." the musical on stage turning into background noise.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

boothill grunts into your dripping pussy as your fingers pull on the roots of his hair, tugging both away and towards your core, uncertain if you want more or to escape this torment.

"stay still, sweetheart."

a soft "can't—" escapes you, making him cock an eyebrow, his mouth never stopping, licking and sucking at your puffy clit. the silent command from his eyes has you tensing your thighs as his grip tightens, and you're sure his metal fingers will leave marks there tomorrow.

moans of his name fill the room as he frees on hand to slide under your dress and up to your chest, the cool metal wrapping around your boob comfortably. your body shrinks as he plays with the soft bundle of nerves, thumb and pointer finger pinching at your nipple occasionally, making your pussy clench.

his eyes roll to the back of his head the moment his tongue dips into your warm core, your juices and gummy walls sending his engine into overdrive. you swear if he were in a cartoon, there'd be smoke coming out of his back right now.

"pretty girl tastes so (fucking) good." hums when your legs clench around his head, "all this, just for me."

your eyes water as you come undone on his tongue. the sound of fans whirring before you drags you back to reality as he stands, flipping you around so that you're kneeling on the sofa with your hands on the backrest.

whines leave you as he flips your dress up and tears your panties easily. the familiar feeling of cool metal dick has you lying limp on the backrest, your hips involuntarily grinding back against him.

"eager, aren't we?"

muffled whimpers sound from you as you bury your face into the cushions, knowing that you'll be making extremely embarrassing sounds the moment he enters you.

a loud groan escapes boothill as he slides into you, the cool, hard metal of his dick a clear contrast to your soft, warm, and inviting walls, wrapping around him like a vice.

his hand slips around your mouth to cover up your obscene sounds as he pounds into you, unable to contain his hunger any longer. you're now locked in a position that allows him to manhandle and control you easily, body fully limp and putty in his arms, just the way he likes.

𐙚 DR. RATIO

a small smile adorns your lips as you stare straight ahead, looking out at the balcony and onto the stage where the musical is happening, clearly avoiding eye contact with your boyfriend who's burning holes through your head.

your hand inches up his thigh, nails scraping slightly with each movement, your own legs clench whenever you feel his muscles tense beneath the pads of your fingers.

an audible sigh could be heard from him when you palm him through his pants, a clear bulge forming under your hand, making your smile bigger. "someone's excited."

"shut up."

you giggle softly as your fingers wrap around the bulge, while your pointer finger draws slow circles on his clothed tip, a dark spot forming slowly on his pants from his arousal.

you yelp suddenly when you feel yourself stand and be placed into a forceful position. your elbows scrape on the table beneath you as you trying your best to stand steady on your legs all the while looking over your shoulder, a teasing smile on your face.

"what? can't take it already?"

ratio's eyes narrow at your comment before pushing down on the small of your back, making your body press harder onto the cold table surface.

something changes in the air when he huffs a laugh, his hands now gripping at your hips, holding you in place as he starts dry humping against you. he leans down, caging you beneath him as he slides one knee between your legs, and you know, you're in danger.

you squirm in his hold, hips inching forward, digging into the edge of the table, trying your best to run away, your fight or flight kicking in, knowing he isn't going to go easy on you for teasing him.

he pulls you back harshly, so hard you stumble back into his chest. "where do you think you're going?" this wipes the smirk off your face.

you shudder when he kisses down your nape to your shoulder blades, and all you could do was hold your breath, praying that he's not going to be too rough on you as punishment.

you could feel the smugness from the man behind you as he pulls himself out and slides into your panties, coating himself with your wetness, the tip sliding against your clit with each thrust.

now you're the one biting back moans, hands reaching backward to claw at his wrists, an indication that you want him to fuck you. ratio chuckles at your feeble attempt to command him, and he leans down again, this time nearer to your ear, never stopping his movements, sliding against your folds harshly.

"this is for fucking with me when you know you can't handle my teasing."

𐙚 GALLAGHER

as the curtains shut behind the two of you, you trip down the steps, pulling gallagher by his tie. your heels coming off with each step towards the display shelf at the side of the VIP room.

your grip on him strong, like a leash, leading the man before you to collide against your soft body as you lean on the shelf. one strap of your dress slips down your shoulder, a testament to your impatience to feel him against you.

gallagher's hands land on either side of your head, trapping you between the shelf and his body. the sheer size of this man completely envelops you, providing cover if anyone were to look for you behind him.

a giggle escapes you as he kisses your jaw and down to your collarbone. "couldn't wait till we got home?"

your head shakes as you bit your lower lip softly, head tilting upwards, silently inviting him to kiss you. he ignores your request, choosing instead to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead as he runs his hands along the curves of your body, eventually resting on your waist and hip.

you whine when he doesn't kiss you where you want him too, "just wanna feel you, daddy. please?" his smug smile widens at your plea before he pulls your lower body against his own, his bulge resting comfortably on your lower stomach.

"keep it down, okay? they're still out there."

you nod, and a soft " good girl" from him weakens your knees as you relax against his hold, allowing his hands to bunch your dress upwards, freeing himself from his restraints.

your gasps are swallowed by his hot mouth against yours, his thrusts slow and deliberate. your toes dig into the carpeted floor beneath you at the stretch. everything feels heightened knowing that the attendants outside the room could intrude any second and see this filthy scene adds to the pleasure.

gallagher pulls back, panting softly as he angles himself to your g-spot, only to kiss you harshly again, muffling your moans with his tongue. the mind-numbing sensations has you cumming around him almost instantly. you fall limp against him, but he doesn't give you a chance to rest, before propping you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, pounding into you roughly, chasing his own high this time.

"filthy little girl, moaning my name like that. you want them to catch us, don't you?"

𐙚 SUNDAY

a clear look of fear appears in your eyes as your back hits the wall next to the balcony, knowing you have nowhere else to run from the man standing before you.

sunday smiles as he approaches you, his hands reaching for the rope that controls the curtains' movements. "what're you planning to do with that?" the shakiness in your voice betrays you as you try to feign confidence, tilting your chin up slightly as your last resort to prove that you're not scared.

with a flourish, sunday twirls the golden rope in his gloved hands before yanking on it sharply, swiftly closing the balcony curtain. the dimly lit room takes on a more intimate aura as he reaches for your wrists, brushing his lips against them softly like a gentleman, although his eyes betray a predatory gleam that sends your knees weak.

"tug on it, and the whole grand theater will see you."

confusion flickers across your face at his warning, until you feel the bind of your wrists by the very rope he held.

drawing you closer by your waist, sunday twirls you around to face the deep red curtains as he slips his hand under your dress, inserting something cool into your heated core. a soft buzz sounds between your legs, causing you to instinctively lurch forward.

"sunday—!"

he silences your protest with a soft shush, his hands teasing your chest and clit while his hot mouth leaves hickeys on your neck. your arms remained raised slightly, fighting the urge to tug on the rope, knowing the consequences if the curtains do part.

soft cries leave your trembling lips as he increases the speed with a click of the remote in his pocket. leaning back against him, your body surrender fully, giving him full access to your body.

[hellishjoel]

cherry thrill | lights

9.2k / pairing: daddy dom tattoo artist!joel miller x sub virgin f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi chapter summary: your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity. chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, implied age gap, swearing, virginity loss, dom&sub dynamics (/not lg), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (princess, bunny, baby girl, sweetheart, etc.), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected p in v, joel talks you through it, protective!joel, slight pov switching, reader is described as having no tattoos or piercings, as well as hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n series summary: Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea. A/N: this was supposed to be a one shot but just like everything else I try to write, I expand on the characters too much for it not to become a series. also, thank you for 2,000 followers, I promise to do something soon to show my appreciation <3 I'm bad at giving thanks and receiving attention so anyway - dividers by @firefly-graphics (thank you, daisy!)

During your first consultation, there was something in the air. 

Glances that lasted a few seconds too long, a charged energy replicating that of two strong magnets.  You stand frozen in a dark office down the hall from the shop’s main entrance. The walls are painted black. A gallery wall displays different art and posters in gold frames. There’s a large red neon sign with your tattoo artist’s initials, J.M. 

Joel Miller. 

You sit opposite of him, leg anxiously bouncing and nails subconsciously piercing the chair’s leather arms as he listens silently to your request before his mind starts to work. It doesn’t take much time to draw up an example or two with your guided tweaks and fixes. 

Other than the scribble of a graphite pencil, silence falls over you both. And observation takes over. 

Joel surrounds himself with scattered drawings on loose paper that litter his desk. You watch the way his eyes screw inward to focus on the sketch he is drawing up. A small vein protrudes from his temple, his jaw shifts from side to side with tension. 

He’s a blunt sort of handsome. With harsh edges and lines, jaded and carved with precision like precious marble. It makes your pulse jump a bit in your neck and wrist. 

You think your first tattoo should be something special, especially since you’ve waited so long to pull the trigger. He was a bit intimidating like you imagined a tattoo artist to be, what with his brooding demeanor and how he looked you up and down upon taking one step inside his parlor. 

Virgin. 

That’s what he called your skin, untouched by any ink or piercings. 

He didn’t know that it described you down to your core. No one had popped your cherry, taken your virginity, made you theirs. Untouched.

Now, half an hour later and sitting anxiously in his back office, he finishes drawing up the sketch and asks about the precise placement you had in mind. 

“I was thinking here,” you mindlessly point to a spot on your upper thigh. There was a level of secrecy to it, in case any future employers cared about that sort of shit. 

You can’t help the way your skin vibrates under his touch, when he aids you in taking off your bottoms and runs his calloused palms up the smooth skin of your thighs. 

You shakily exhale as he warms you. 

You definitely don’t let yourself fantasize that he’s feeling you up, or even think about wanting him to explore every inch of your body. You know he’s just doing his job. 

But the way his eyes flick up to yours when he feels the goosebumps he knows he’s created is otherworldly. Like he knows you want him to fuck you. The way your muscles twitch under the warmth of his palm, feeling pliant under his touch. Fuck. 

His eyes gleam as his mouth forms into a barely-there smirk. 

There was no point in playing coy. Your body changed at the contact and Joel knew it. 

It was damn near degrading the way he let you simmer. It set a light inside of you no one had before. So that’s when you knew you’d let him, Joel Miller, take your virginity. 

It would be no easy task. You didn’t know how to pursue him, or anyone for that matter. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have said virginity. 

You try not to stare for too long, but even with his gruff demeanor and silence being second nature to him, he was handsome. A rugged sort of handsome with different facial piercings. 

A septum in his nose highlighted its aquiline structure. And a small hoop in his right eyebrow, with greys tickling through like pretty streaks in the hair. It made him look deliciously too old for you. Perhaps that’s what you enjoyed most, though. He was no amateur. 

The moment his fingers dipped into your flesh to work on your tattoo's placement, you knew he felt it, too. Supple under his touch. Squishy. Something he could sink his teeth into. Something that obeyed. 

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

His southern drawl is sweet like honey, deep and husky nonetheless. 

“I think so.” 

Your response is meek. It’s your wavering nerves from having him so close and unsure what the feeling of being tattooed will be like. Joel looks for certainty instead. He insists on it. 

“Need ya t’tell me. Not that you think, that you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

Joel squeezes the back of your thigh fondly, a proud little smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. “Good girl.”

The praise alone was enough to make your thighs sticky with arousal. Joel sent you home that day with an ache between your legs that your fingers had to fix. And you thought about him the entire time. 

How his cold tongue piercing would feel against the warmth of your clit. Holding you with his strong, protective arms swirled with black ink. How his staggering dark eyes would look into yours as he fucks you. 

But thinking about him wasn’t enough. 

You tried to string out the process, anything you could do to fix more time with him. Anything to get his tough palms on your skin. 

You fiddled with different placements, opting to show a little skin as you rid yourself of your top and pointed to your ribs during your next appointment. 

A breath hitches in your throat as he eyes your bra's innocent pink color. Lacy and pretty. Delicate. He clears his throat and runs his fingers along your side, evidence of his touch causing an effect on you displayed with more goosebumps. Your body could simply not hide the attraction you felt towards him. 

“Would hurt. A lot. The ribs move every time you breathe, which makes the tattooing process more painful.” Joel gently cups your side with his large palm and squeezes your ribs, holding you in place as you shakily breathe with the hold he has on you. “Can’t tell ya where to place it, can only advise. Just don’t want such a pretty girl to shed any tears.” 

That’s when you knew you could trust him. That even a man as hardened as himself could treat you with such care. 

He excuses himself for a moment, opting for more transfer paper and leaving you topless in his private office. 

Your ears were ringing, you could hear the quickening beat of your heart. You slowly inch off the portable tattoo table, glancing around Joel’s dark academia-style office. 

He’s an enigma, you think, the more you look at his surroundings. Quiet but dark, you knew he was concealing a hidden desire. You hope to unlock it. That he’ll trust you enough just as you trust him. 

Articles of clothing start to drop to the floor, one by one. You knew you’d be ambushing him; you didn’t want to scare Joel. So you left yourself in your soft pink-colored bra and panty set. You thought it was classy and cute. Not too forward, but sweet. Definitely planned out, you hope he doesn’t notice. 

All your confidence quickly disappears as soon as he comes back in through the door. You could feel your heart slowly sink to your stomach, your lips parting to come up with some sort of reasoning. 

“I-I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say. Joel is stilled at the entrance of his office, door still ajar as he blankly stares at the delicate angel standing in the middle of his office. 

He clears his throat and finally closes the door, leaving the two of you in silence. You can’t read his expression. 

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” He asks, sweet southern drawl dripping with tension as his heavy boots slowly make their way closer to you. 

You can only shake your head, unsteady hands concealing as much of your body as possible. You decide to face the mirror, keeping your back to him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I was just-” Lie. “I was just looking at your full-length mirror to see other placement ideas.” 

Joel merely shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lyin’ t’me, baby girl. You wanna try tellin’ me the truth now?”

His tone only makes the ache in your core grow with desire as your pulse quickens under his eyeline. 

You feel embarrassed, heat coursing through your body and making you tingle as his stare lingers selfishly, basking in the glory of your figure. You watch with want in the reflection as his eyes stare at the curves of your hips and your ass. A handful, he probably thinks. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, moving closer and enveloping you in his musky pine and whiskey scent. It’s almost knowing what he says next. “Tell me what y’want.” 

You swallow the lump protruding in your throat before you decide to be honest with him. Like you said, you could trust him. You play with your fingers and pick at the skin by your nails.

“I want you.” You say barely above a whisper. 

Joel simply shakes his head, takes another impossible step closer, and cranes his head down to hear you better. His lips and coarse beard hairs tickle at the shell of your ear. 

Your eyes close shyly as he speaks again amid your silence. 

“Say it again, baby. Can’t hear ya.” His toned front meets your back, forcing a whimper past your lips. 

You work up the nerve to take a glance at the two figures in the gold-framed mirror. Perfect opposites. Young, beautiful, a little inexperienced. Older, handsome, sure as hell looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

His height looms over you. His eyes are an unknown shade of obsidian and he’s radiating a comforting warmth. Your hand reaches for his, only able to look him in the eyes through the glass as you guide his hand to your hip. 

Your thumb rolls across the faded tattoo on the backside of his hand. There used to be a cross there, but it looks to be covered up by some sort of python now. With a shaky sigh, you try again. “I want you, Mr. Miller. I want you to take my virginity.” 

You’ve prepared yourself to hear his laughter, a snickering, degrading comment of disbelief. You felt ready to experience shame. But you were wrong. 

Joel places his pointer finger under your chin, using his other hand to guide you in his hold to turn and face him. His thumb grazes over your lower lip as he guides your head to tilt up and look at him properly. Your soft eyes meet his lust-driven ones and your heart surges at the sight. 

You’ve never seen a man so hungry. 

“You want me to take your virginity, little bunny?” He hums seductively. Suddenly, you don’t feel so doomed. It’s placed with a little bit of eagerness now. You wanted your spoils. 

“Yes. Want you to do whatever you desire with me, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound like a devoted cult member, but the energy you feel is undeniable. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point. 

Slowly but surely, Joel begins to nod. He’s mulled it over and he’s made up his mind. 

“Whatever I desire, huh?” He tuts almost degradingly. Your nod of enthusiasm makes his blood rush. 

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words. 

“Want you to call me Daddy,” He starts haphazardly, gauging your reaction. “Think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Your wide eyes soften, a notch of confusion knotting your eyebrows. 

“You- what?” 

“Want you to call me daddy. Want you to be a good little girl for me and hop up on that desk. Can ya do that for me, princess?” His chin juts up and signals toward his office desk. 

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop. 

“Go on now.” His orotund voice projects his instructions. You back up a few paces until you feel the cool metal of his desk hit your backside, slowly moving to sit on it with hidden excitement and a shiver up your spine. 

You do want to be good, if there’s anything you want in this world right now, it’s to play along and be good for him. Knowing he would take care of you was making you leak. 

His fingertips delicately touch your skin, starting at your wrists and moving upwards to the straps on your bra. He’s intimidating to look at, so you fixate on something behind him. But it doesn’t help when he clouds your vision. Even his aroma, from the smoke of his cigarettes to the musky spruce cologne, was putting you in a tailspin. 

You don’t anticipate the way your body moves for him. His hands skim to the back of your bra, and your spine straightens. It makes the right side of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. 

“Nervous?” He belittles.

Your long lashes innocently flutter, you think you might be doing it on purpose. You sort of like playing along. 

“A little… Daddy.” You test cautiously, the word tangling on your tongue. But it’s unforgettable the way his eyes light up at the name. You find yourself already willing to do whatever it takes to recreate that signature look of his. 

Joel hums appreciatively, thumb making minuscule circles over your chin. “I’ll take care of ya. Ya know that. Or else you wouldn’t have chosen me.”

All you can do is nod. Because he knows that your selection process was a real thing. You had danced around it once during your first consultation when he asked if you had a boyfriend. All you could feel was heat rising to the back of your neck, shy eyes evading his warm brown orbs. 

“No, definitely not.” 

“What’d’ya mean definitely not? You’re a pretty girl.”  

You shrug in a noncommittal way. “I’ve never had to really worry about stuff like… boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Any of that sort of stuff.” 

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, a mutual understanding of your underlying words. “I see. I understand, angel.” 

Joel works your bra off with one hand, you gasp as you feel the material loosen around your body. His opposite hand taps at the top of your thigh. You’re all too aware you are eagerly sitting half-naked on his desk. 

“Open.” He directs, voice laced with smoke. 

You nip at your lower lip and slowly inch your clamped-shut thighs open for him. He instantly makes eye contact with the wet, dark little circle that’s ruining the pristine innocence of your panties. 

He decides not to make fun of it, but it’s truly a compliment. Your adoration for him. “This all for me, angel?”

You work up a few quick nods. Now that he was so close, you wanted him to hurry the hell up.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

You feel heat tingle at the sides of your neck. This would be your first time really talking like this with someone. He made it feel safe to talk so dirty. To try, to learn. 

“Yes, daddy.”

You can’t deny how proud you feel to be the reason a certain warmth brightens in his eyes and on his smirk. You did that, you pleased him. Little did you know how he’d thank you for it. 

“You said you’re a virgin? Hard to believe.”

A shaky sigh leaves your parted lips as his warm palms slowly pull your bra down, revealing your breasts to him. “Just never found anyone I really trusted or liked enough.” 

He mutters something quiet in understanding, all too distracted by how damn pretty you look. 

Joel is silently observing your body, he can’t help but want to touch the delicate flower in front of him. A gasp leaves your parted lips as his calloused hands come up and cup your breasts. He starts to squeeze, and a happy little whimper leaves your mouth with a small smile. 

“I like that.” You tell him, hoping it improves your chances that he’ll do it again. Which he does. 

“Good.” He compliments, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning them into peaks that send electricity down your spine. 

A sweet and experimental moan leaves your lips. Joel stands between your parted legs and you feel his erection for the first time against your skin. You can tell by the shape protruding through his pants that he’s a large man, already thick and swollen for your taking. 

“No one’s ever been inside of you?” He damn near growls, raising an eyebrow after the beat he offers you to answer.  

You shake your head again. “I’ve tried my fingers, but I’m sure it’s not the same.” 

A scoffy little breath echoes out of his nose. “No, not quite. Lay back for me, bunny.” His hands release your breasts, pebbled nipples left abandoned as you slowly move down onto your elbows and then onto your back. 

There was a sudden peak of anxiety, not being able to fully see him. But perhaps this was the point, to fully surrender yourself under his touch. To trust him. 

His rough hands grip the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He gets about halfway down your thighs before you quickly sit up on your elbows again. 

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps. 

He stops, eyes flicking up to you from your cunt still concealed by your sticky thighs. 

“We can stop,” He says before you can explain. “S’okay if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, that’s not it, God, that’s not it,” You rid his worries, feeling your chest quickly rise and fall under his all of a sudden protective gaze. 

“I uh-... I know you don’t owe me this, we’re not together, but… can you talk me through what you’re doing? I want to learn, and I can tell you’re experienced, I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“S’not too much to ask.” He quickly intervenes, gently taking your hands and guiding you to sit up fully once more. Your soft eyes graze over all the layers he’s still wearing, and suddenly you’re reminded how naked you are. 

“Use your voice, sweet girl. Can tell you wanna say somethin’. This is your time.” 

The sentiment means a lot. It is your time, your first time, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean it should be any less special. So you decide to make it your time, the way you want it. 

“Can you take your clothes off too? And is the door locked?” You trail off upon seeing his amused smirk. 

“Go on.” He nods again, letting you list your needs and wants. 

“And can you kiss me, please, Daddy?” You ask more softly than the rest of your demands. You know that kissing is romantic, but you think it might help settle you. Pull you back from drifting away, keep you here with him.  

He watches you for a moment, a bemused grin on his lips before he gently cradles your face. “The door’s locked. I’ll take my clothes off. And I’ll kiss you as many times as you like as long as you keep askin’ that nice.” 

For the first time during your interaction, your face lights up with a smile. It’s small, it’s thankful, but it’s there. There was an undeniable connection you shared with Joel, it made you feel safe under his curious eyes. 

With his large hands cupping either side of your jaw, he leans down while simultaneously guiding your chin up as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, soft. His mouth tastes like a cigarette, it’s oddly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more.

You know how to make out at the very least. So when you gently bite down and tug on Joel’s lower lip, both of your eyes open as a throaty little groan escapes him. 

He kisses you a little harder this time, hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer so your fronts align. The force makes your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade your mouth. He moves fluently to explore, both of you falling into a sweet lull as your bodies meld into one. 

Inadvertently, he hooks his pointer finger into your panties halfway down your thighs and finishes pulling them to your ankles. They land somewhere on the floor in a pile of your other clothes. 

Unbeknownst to you until he took his hands off your body to pluck open his belt do you realize how you were on fire for him. 

You wonder while he pushes down his trousers and tugs off his shirt if he’s ever slept with a virgin before. If you’d be his version of a first time just like he’d be yours. No, not his first ever, you weren’t that foolish. But maybe you could teach him a thing or two as well. 

There’s no way to mask your surprise when he pushes down his boxer briefs, the dark band revealing all that was underneath. His half-hard cock raises towards his stomach, rosiness fluttering at his tip. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a little hooked, deliciously curving upwards. 

With a new sense of confidence, your hand reaches forward and you start to shift your hand up and down his length. Joel’s quiet grunt shatters your thoughts. He gently cups the side of your neck and twirls a piece of hair around his finger. 

Joel takes your hand off his cock and you worry you’ve done something wrong already. He holds it palm-side up and nods encouragingly. “Spit on your hand, baby.”

He nods after you look up at him with shy, blown-out eyes. But you obey. 

You spit into your hand and let him guide your hand back around his member. That seems a lot better. He glistens with your spit and you have the urge to keep shocking him with your confidence.

You lean forward and directly spit onto his tip, looking up to see his approving little smirk. 

“Fuck- That’s- mmm, that’s good, angel,” he sighs with a certain happiness, loving the feeling of getting his cock taken care of. “Feels real good.” 

The praise sets off a million pistons in your brain, feeling yourself scrabble off the desk,  dropping to your knees as you continue to pump him. 

He’s heavy in your hand, and you gently lean forward to give sweet kisses to the tip. You swallow the lump in your throat before parting your lips, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. He’s salty, musky, but not dirty. In fact, he was rather well-kempt in his nether regions. 

You force yourself deeper and Joel already has his hands in your hair to pause you. 

“Woah, slow your roll, pretty girl.” He says with shortened breaths. Heat floods your body, you hate being so new to this. 

Joel continues to stroke your hair back, gently gliding a thumb up your cheekbone before he cradles one side of your face. “I see you gettin’ all shy, I know this is your first time, but I’ll teach you the basics. And no one’s perfect on their first try, okay? So just get that thought outta your head now.”

Your chest swells at his eagerness to relax you, so you nod gently and lean in to kiss the base of his stomach in appreciation. The right side of his mouth tilts up as he swipes his thumb across your plump bottom lip, a silent thank you for the kiss. 

“You’re a real good girl, you know that?” A bigger smile breaks across your lips and you eagerly tug on his cock with eagerness. Joel sighs, already in defeat at how you’re willing to get it right for him, to learn, to listen. To obey. 

“You’re gonna wanna relax your jaw,” his fingers guide you, your lips parting and letting your jaw drop lower, lower, lower for him. “And the whole part is to suck, not just put your mouth on it, okay, peaches? So hollow your cheeks, no teeth, and only go as far as you feel comfortable.” 

You shake off your nerves and clear your throat, feeling your mouth fill with spit intended for him. You place your hands on the back of his thighs, feeling the dark hairs under the pads of your fingers. 

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip once more. You swirl your tongue around him, adoring the way he hisses when you glide your tongue across the slit leaking a salty substance. 

Over the introduction, you try to take him down your throat properly. And he’s a mouthful, literally. He’s a lot. But you try to just enjoy that there’s no real pressure. 

A lot of saliva starts to build in your mouth, and you swallow it around him. You’re awestruck when he lets out a low moan, strong hands weaving through your hair and lightly tugging. Your eyes flutter up to him through your lashes, and he’s looking at you so deliciously. 

You can tell he wants to fuck your mouth, holding his hips back from really letting you have it. And maybe he could do that to you someday, but for now, today was slow. And Joel knew that too. 

Joel gently tucks your hair back, your lips suctioning around his length before he drags you back towards him, indicating for you to start moving, to bob your head. 

It takes a few tries, but you really feel yourself going further down his cock. You breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to gag around him. Finally, after little to no error, you slip up. His tip unexpectedly hits the back of your throat and you gag around him.  Joel must feel your whole body tense with anxiety because he’s quick to gently hush and console you. Your eyes well up with tears, but your first instinct is to keep him inside your mouth and swallow around him. 

A long, low groan leaves Joel’s mouth, a compliment to your first big challenge. 

“Holy fuck,” he pants, weaving his fingers into your hair and fisting eagerly to keep himself grounded. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, princess, you have no idea, fuck,” he grins. “Try using your hands on what you can’t take, come on, baby.” 

You can feel yourself physically gush at his compliments, your stomach swirling with a newfound desperation. To please. 

With new instructions, you work your hand at his base and pump up and down with the rhythm of your mouth. You worked on gently squeezing and releasing your hand, making Joel go slack-jawed as a husky groan leaves the back of his throat. Sucking and licking and bobbing your head in earnest, he’s already twitching in your mouth. 

“You’ve done this before baby,” his voice drips with a smirk, pulling yourself off for some deep breaths and a few desperate swallows. 

“Haven’t, promise, Joel,” You coo with a proud little smile, your voice thick and wrecked as you continue to pump his cock in the absence of your mouth. 

Joel lets your hair go and guides your hand off his cock before helping you up from the floor. 

Your face is obviously written with disappointment, you could have continued. You sort of wanted to continue despite the ache hanging around in your jaw. 

“You were gonna make me come, don’t wanna come yet, angel,” Joel pants weakly, ducking down and connecting your lips. You’re a little taken aback. Not by the kiss, but by the fact you already had him nearly ready to finish. 

“Really?” You murmur hopefully against his mouth, wishing he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you. 

The way that his features started to twitch and his tummy and chest fluttered with his jagged breathing, it would have been quite a sight to see him finish. Maybe he would have even done it right on your tongue. The thought alone gives you goosebumps. 

Your insides swirl as he licks inside of your mouth and gently runs his tongue along your bottom lip, moving you back towards his desk. You hop up without his instruction, feeling him smirk against your pouted mouth. 

“Now you’re gettin’ a hang of things.” He murmurs into your mouth, carrying on where he had left off before, sinking down to his own knees at the edge of the desk and positioning your feet to rest up on the edge. He seems to stare at the glistening arousal you’ve been creating for the last hour straight. 

That nervous feeling settles in your stomach, completely bare and open for him. A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, not prepared for him already to be diving into your pussy. 

The breadth of his tongue slowly swipes up the center of your core, purposely flicking off of your clit and making you yelp at the contact. His cold tongue piercing against your sensitive bundle made a shiver shoot up your spine. 

He gently smirks as he places a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh. “You’re jumpy, kitten. Take a breath. Wanna make you feel real good.” 

You let out a shaky sigh and move off your elbows, back flat on his desk as your eyes slowly drift close. Then, as he starts to truly taste you, learning you and what you like, it’s unexpected how much you enjoy it. It never really dawned on you that some people truly enjoy eating pussy, but Joel Miller sure does. 

Your broken little whimpers and strung-out moans turn into writhing on his desk under him. He was such an expert, meticulously swirling his tongue around you and suckling your clit into his mouth. 

It didn’t take long for your fingers to wind up into his hair as his shoulders lay bracketed between your thighs. It was heavy, it was stomach-twisting, in fact, it was rolling through you like a storm. The it in question was your first oral orgasm. 

“J-Joel,” you gasp, your jaw dropping down as he slowly prods the tip of his finger at your entrance. 

“Need to get you ready for my cock, sweet girl, keep focusing on how good you feel,” he encourages. Your face pinches as his finger slowly sinks into your entrance, but you realize how grateful you are for all the extra spit and arousal Joel has provided. 

It doesn’t necessarily hurt, it’s a weird ache at first. But then his finger starts to slowly pump inside of you, and it’s a new craving. Especially with the way his tongue moves around your clit, the pistons in his brain firing all to figure out what you like. 

Do you like when he flicks your clit with his cold metal piercing?

“Ohmygod-” you gasp. 

Do you like when he swirls his naughty tongue around you in tight figure eights? 

“Joel, please,” you say, needing more. 

Did you like it most when he suckles around your sweet bud?

“Joel!” You cry out, tugging tighter at his hair, not sure if you want to tug him closer for more or push him away because it feels too good. 

“O-Oh, oh my god.” Lying still was a foreign thing to you now, all you could do was wiggle and grip your fingers into his hair, tugging harshly as he grunted against your core in enjoyment. 

He actually likes pleasing you, he likes tasting you! It’s a compliment without words as your eyes dip close and your head digs back into the desk.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to drop like you’re on a rollercoaster. You’re not unfamiliar with the feeling of an orgasm, but this, oral, it hits differently. 

“Fuck,” you curse unexpectedly, making Joel cock up an eyebrow as he glances up at you. All you can do is watch as his mouth suckles harder around you, his finger pumping faster and adding a second. 

Because if there’s anyone in this world that can break you out of your shell, Joel wants it to be him. 

Now you’re really aching for him,  wishing that it was his cock slotted between your walls, pushing you towards euphoria. 

“Know you wanna come for me angel,” his fingers quirk upwards in a come here motion, and a long, strung-out moan of his name leaves your lips.

God forbid any of the shop’s workers or clients hear you, but you can’t think of a singular reason to care right now. 

Your walls flex and squeeze around Joel’s two fingers, truly feeling the stretch as you come around his digits. It leaves you a whimpering mess on his desk, hot pants leaving your pretty lips. 

Joel is in heaven, lapping you up and moaning against your core as your clit starts to twitch with the overstimulation. His hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before he sits up and kisses up your body, his own lips meeting yours. He’s hungry, and you’re still bouncing back. But you want it so bad, and you’re so close to finally having it. 

“Joel, I’m ready.” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He breathily laughs and pecks your lips once more, tasting your own arousal and making you feel warm inside. 

“Desperate for my cock, ain’t that right, pretty girl?” 

God, he was such a menace with his mouth. Your adorably shy grin is all the answer he needs. But you give him one anyway, because he likes when you talk like that with him. 

“Yes, daddy, I just wanna feel it already,” you try out, Joel’s lust-filled eyes meeting yours as white-hot heat spills into your stomach. 

“I’ll give it to ya, baby girl. Wanna give that tight little virgin pussy my cock, don’t want anyone else to have ya. Mine.” Joel huskily grunts, a choked moan leaving your lips. 

Joel reaches past your head and to the drawer on the other side of the desk. He jimmies it open and searches his hand around blindly. He flips open his wallet and pulls a small square foil package from the slot. 

Oh, duh, a condom. In all your excitement, you sort of forgot to be safe. But you’re glad he was prepared. 

You watch with adoration on your features as Joel lifts the condom to his lips, pearly teeth ripping the foil off but not hurting the condom. His other hand rests sweetly on your hip, thumb running soothing circles into your pretty skin. 

It’s a soothing feeling, one that he doesn’t have to do, but he does because he’s being considerate and maybe even a little protective. You gently lay your hand on his forearm, fingers tracing fresh black ink and older green ink on his arm’s sleeve. 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as he uses both hands to glide the condom down his shaft. It’s nearly invisible, the way it’s so thin and tightly wrapped around his cock. Besides the band that rests at the very bottom of his shaft. He grumbles something incoherent, probably his annoyance with the fussing of the condom and how tight it probably felt around him.  

You take in a shaky breath and nod at him once he comes to rejoin your centers. 

“You’re sure you’re ready for this? Don’t wanna wait for someone y’love? Or trust? Or just... Anybody but me?” Joel’s face is pinched with genuine concern. 

You smile softly and gently cup his cheek. “I do trust you. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to alter your body forever with a tattoo. So, you’re giving me a tattoo, and you’re taking my virginity. You’re sort of doubling down for me right now, honestly.” 

Joel flashes a genuine little smile. It’s the most you’ve said consistently all day with him, even with a little drip of sarcasm and wit. 

“Okay. But ya gotta say it.” He says more seriously. 

“I’m ready, Daddy. Want you to make me feel good. I know you can.” You can already feel yourself picking up his dirty talk. It makes your smile twitch as you gently grip both of his forearms, his hands spreading your thighs open for him. 

He enters the space, his heavy cock resting over your core and slowly slipping up and down your wet folds. 

You let out an unexpected little scoff as he grinds himself down against you, your arousal soaking the condom. He holds himself at his base and taps his tip down against your already throbbing clit, making you hiss out a desperate whine. 

“M’not usually this… gentle.” He admits through gritted teeth. You’re sort of shocked by that. Sure, he has a rough and tough exterior, but he’s treated you with such delicacy that you assumed he was like this all the time. 

“So, what are you usually like?” You pose, your breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands abandons your thighs and guides his tip from your clit to your entrance, up and down, several times. Your thighs twitch impatiently. Your entrance squeezes around nothing. 

“M’just... not this gentle,” is all he can say without breaking into a bemused smile. 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

Joel playfully scoffs as his face starts to pierce with concentration. “Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

“I’m sure I-” your words are cut off by a loud gasp, your lips parting as his tip penetrates your walls. You’re phased for a moment before you gulp and recollect yourself. You whimper, louder and louder as he pushes on, watching Joel move with such caution. 

He really is holding back, you think. You wonder what he’s like when he can just fuck how he pleases. 

“Baby,” Joel’s voice breaks your concentration. “Breathe.” 

A loud huff of air leaves your mouth that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. The ache in your hips and core only builds with tension as Joel pushes on, his length and girth surely parting your tight walls. 

“So fuckin’- tight.” He says with gritted teeth, his fingers piercing into the delicate flesh of your outer thighs, making you whimper. 

“Joel,” you quietly cry for him, tears threatening to spill at the pain. It’s just- a lot. It’s a lot for your first time, and maybe you wouldn’t have signed up if you knew what he was packing, but in a weird way, you loved it. He felt made for you. 

“M’here, angel, look at me.” In all the excitement and overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed you were clenching your eyes closed. You slowly peek them open, greeted by his heavenly features. 

“There’s my girl.” He compliments, warmth and sweetness shooting through your body. 

“Fuck,” you say, your voice a bit wet as Joel comes down closer to aid you. He’s all the way in now, you can feel his balls flushed against your sopping wet cunt. 

The arousal helps, the condom sort of doesn’t but it’s fine, that’s life, you think. You’re torn between pain and pleasure. Honestly, you just feel so fucking full. 

He tells you between breathy pants that he would have used lube if he had any, but he didn’t, and he’s sorry, and his pretty voice starts to turn into static with how fucking good he feels inside of you. 

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praises, sponging a few kisses along your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. You feel like some weak pathetic being under him. He’s been sweet, but you’re sure he’s just treating you like he found a wounded animal. 

“Move, Joel, please” you weakly demand, lassoing your arms around his neck and holding him close to you. 

“No.” He says through gritted teeth. “Just-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, knowing that you’re dealing with a million emotions right now as he’s trying to breathe around the death grip you have on his cock. “Just wait a minute, sweetheart, let yourself adjust.” 

A pouty, bratty sigh leaves your lips as you continue to blink away tears. You eventually nod and he only smiles adoringly as he returns to kiss at the tears.

Your senses are spiked. You can smell his cologne, feel each gristle of hair from his salt and pepper beard. It’s erotic how much more you can feel while at the edge of your emotions. 

One of your hands roams into his darling chocolate curls, instinctually going to gently scrape your nails delicately against his scalp. You’re sweetly surprised to hear him mutter a sweet little moan just for you against the shell of your ear. 

Your hands flutter across dark tattoos on his shoulders and arms, your blurry vision trying to make out the shapes as you trace a pretty angel on his upper bicep. 

Joel Miller was inside of you. Joel Miller has taken your virginity. The hottest man you’ve ever set your eyes on is fucking you at his place of work, on his desk. And you convinced him to. 

Joel was right. The pain, ache, and burn slowly turned into a real yearning for him to move. It felt like what was right, a certain neediness to be filled and fucked.  

“Daddy,” you whisper more sweetly this time, more to your character. “Please fuck me, you feel good now, I can take it. Promise.” 

It takes him a moment to gather himself as well, smiling sweetly as he keeps his mouth by your breasts where he is sucking a gentle hickey into your soft skin. Color flushes to the area, feeling his teeth gently nibble on the spot before he finally lifts off. 

Marking you, you think. It makes another gush of arousal flood your core, liquifying your spine as you become putty in his hands. 

His mouth twitches in a small smile as he captures your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet kiss was just a distraction. 

Joel slowly began reeling his hips back which was a whole new sensation. His strangled moan harmonized with the gasp you let out into his mouth, moaning out the breath you were holding as he plunges himself fully back inside your warm cunt. 

You whimpered weakly, needy and anxiously happy, you wanted more. More, more, more. 

“Oh- my god,” you whimper, feeling him start a steady rhythm inside of you. Your jaw slowly drops and your eyes flutter closed, feeling your tits start to lightly bounce every time his hips perfectly align with your own. 

“So goddamn tight, still,” he grunts each word, forehead against yours as he watches your face unfold with a million reactions. 

Something primal switches in Joel, knowing he’s the first one to do this sort of stuff with you. 

It’s strangely possessive and arrogant, he knows it, but being the first man you trust to fuck you properly was feeding his ego. You’re a beautiful young woman with big doe eyes who waltzed into his shop and insisted he rail you, take your sacred first, talk you through it, and carry you through this dark and fearful forest. 

You trusted him. He wouldn’t break that bond. 

You came here wanting something, knowing how to get it. You came here asking, and Joel was open to teaching. The last thing he wanted was for some asshole to hurt you, something your sweet nature couldn’t afford was poison. 

Maybe he could teach you more, if you wanted. If he offered you an invitation to his world, would you take it? He only shared a slice of his lifestyle with you today, would the rest scare you, or entice you? 

Joel can’t help the way his hips buck faster at his thoughts, a little sob leaving your lips. He’s absent, just for a moment, feeling your skin slap against his as he holds you down and fills you fully. His tip hits your cervix for the first time and heat floods your stomach as you cry out his name. 

“Shit,” he panics and quickly comes back to his senses, wide eyes meeting your bleary ones, “you okay, angel? M’sorry” Joel whispers, returning to his original rhythm. 

“Yes-yes, fuck, please keep going, keep doing that, I can’t believe how good it feels.” 

Joel weakly smirks, proud to see you taking him so well.

The desk squeaks and juts with each of his heavy thrusts, that’s how you know it’s fucking good. You came here wanting to lose your virginity, but now that you’ve unwound Joel Miller, you want him to fucking rail you. 

Licking your lips, you lean up and pepper kisses up his wirey jawline, feeling the patch of hair that fades out and then back in again. He’s so sweet right now, but you wonder what he was talking about before. What was he when he wasn’t gentle? How good would rough feel? Would you like it? Maybe you could learn, explore, adventure. Surely Joel with his experience could be a guiding light. 

You watch with glittery eyes as Joel pulls his head off yours and licks across the pads of his fingers. 

“What are you- shit,” you whimper as his fingers start circling your clit, taking a moment to find your sweet little rhythm, one that somehow matches his hips. Now, your skin is slapping and it’s echoing around the room. Your moans are louder and uncontrollable, as are Joel’s. Your hips ache but you don’t find the will to care, he feels like fucking heaven. 

His cock is somehow inching deeper, as if your walls have decided to invite him in further, where he hits this perfect little spot inside of you that makes you squeak Joel’s name with robbed breaths. 

You’re not sure if you can hold on much longer, your stomach starts to swirl as all the knots inside your belly begin to untie themselves. 

You brace Joel at his shoulders and look into his eyes as you moan his name. A certain hunger flickers behind his dark brown orbs. His jaw clicks and he starts fucking you in earnest, filling you up each time as his hips snap with vigor. He feels fucking amazing, piercing your walls and marking you as his. 

“Joel-”

“Say what I wanna hear, baby,” he rasps. You quickly nod and gulp. 

“Daddy, please, I-I’m so close,” you moan sweetly as your head digs into the desk, jutting your chin up and arching your back. Joel takes full advantage of your breasts in his face, burying his nose in between them and nipping at the sensitive flesh, nearly making you yelp. 

“M’right there with you, angel baby, come for me,” he insists breathlessly.

His hips were losing their precision, going buck-wild, so you knew he was close. But he was holding out for you. 

You clench your eyes closed, feeling yourself lose all control. Your heart races in your chest, beat thrumming in your throat as you hold Joel against your front as his hips continue to snap and fill you. You don’t know what to do with your mouth, so you feverishly land your lips on his and make him mask the moans of your orgasm. 

Joel’s groan echoes loudly into your mouth as you gasp against his lips. Your walls clench eagerly around his cock as he spills into the condom. 

It’s blinding, deafening even. Your face goes slack and your eyes see stars. You think you might be shedding a tear or two because Joel is cupping your face kindly, thumbs swiping under your eyes as he encourages you out of your haze. 

“Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl,” he pants sweetly, watching for any sign of doubt. But he wouldn’t find any. 

You’re not so sure where he starts and you begin, your mind is so fuzzy. 

A soft hum leaves your lips as you soothingly run a hand through his dark hair again, gently stroking the longer curls away from the sheen on his forehead. Both of you were so warm, it felt like a fire was set between you two. When you curl a strand around your finger, you weakly smile as it coils back up and bounces. 

“How was your first time, angel?” Joel pants, still buried balls deep inside of you. Your hips ache, but part of you wasn’t ready for him to pull out yet. 

“I can’t believe I finished twice.” You admit with a shy smile, running a thumb up his cheekbone and glancing up at his eyebrow piercing. He notices you staring but keeps his eyes on your own.  

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head. 

“What about the one in your nose?”

He shakes his head again, this time with a smile. 

“Or your tongue?” 

This one made him ponder before he finally gave a light shrug. 

“You don’t remember the pain after a while. Just like tattoos. The pain is temporary.” 

Your mouth tilts in a lopsided smile, feeling messy with both of your spillages still puddled around your centers. 

Joel grunts as he slowly stands up from his bent-over position on the desk, pulling himself out of you and tying up the condom before he tosses it into the waste bin. 

You whine quietly to yourself as you close your legs. It hurts a little more now. Your hips and your core, a certain soreness. Or maybe it was missing him already. 

“Oh,” you whisper, starting to feel a little bit of leakage glide down your thigh. “Joe, do you-” 

“Course,” Joel says assuringly, hands already on a towel as he neals down and gently glides the material up the inside of your thigh. You bite down on your lip as he cleans you up with the soft towel and a little bit of water. 

You glance around the sterilized room and realize he’ll probably have to scrub this place down for the most part. Whoops. 

You’re slow to dress. Joel’s already buttoned his pants by the time you find your panties. He snickers quietly and helps you dress with a smirk. 

It’s not awkward like you feared it would. It sort of felt like you guys were friends. Then, something sort of unexpected happens. 

Joel fondly strokes a hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear and smoothing out the little knots he had caused while fisting your hair during his blowjob. He’s soft and gentle with you. It makes you oh so curious what he looks like when he’s not soft and gentle. 

You sigh softly as you look at yourself in the mirror. You sort of felt proud, like you’d be a whole new person leaving the shop today. Even without a tattoo. 

“Joel, I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your office.” 

“That ashamed of me, huh?” He scoffs at you playfully, running his hand up and down his chest hair before he finally throws on his shirt. “I have the back office, so we can just go out that door.” He juts up his chin to behind you and you follow his eyeline. “Goes to the alley behind the shop.” 

You note the dark green painted exit door, and you’re thankful you don’t have to parade through the front of the shop or go past any other clients. 

The gentleman that he is, Joel walks you to your car as dusk settles in, marking the sky an orange and red horizon.  

“I gotta clean up the shop and close. You gonna be okay until I see you next?”

You nod meekly, a sweet smile on your face that twinges with a little shyness. “I’ll be okay. I still need that tattoo.” You tease to which he grins. 

“You do. I’ve worked real hard on it, so you better come back an’get it.” 

You nip at your lower lip as he stays guarded by your window, like a handsome pierced, and tatted bodyguard. 

It’s itching at you too much to let it go. You’re just too curious. “M’not this gentle.” 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

“Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

You gulp and clutch his hand before he fully stands up to walk away from your car. “You’ll show me again sometime? Like you said?”

Your eyes glimmer with a certain hopefulness, but his own seem to harden out of caution. 

It was just insane that he knew so much more than you. You wanted to unlock all forms of pleasure you were comfortable with. You like that he was holding something back. 

You were wet clay in his massive hands, he could mold you to his liking. You could learn his pleasures, his kinks, what unravels him beyond repair. You could learn a thing or two about yourself in the process. 

Joel sighs. 

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warns, lips crooked in a snarl. His eyes beg for you not to want him, not to want this. 

But nothing set your nerves on fire like seeing him in control of you, just that brief second where his eyes flashed from amber to black and he fucked you like nothing or no one was stopping him. What if you gave it all up to him? 

Submissiveness dances behind your eyes, and Joel’s a sucker for that sweet look on your face. He debates if this is what you really want, or if it’s something else. He can’t deny he enjoys the trust you put in him. 

Joel quietly sighs with hesitation, eyes the way your small hand desperately holds his before he finally squeezes back. 

“You don’t know how t’take no for an answer, do ya?” He asks, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’ll have to change.” 

You grin and nod, biting down on your lower lip as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joel takes notice, not wanting to see you in any sort of discomfort, especially from something he caused. 

“Take some pain medicine and relax tonight, angel. You were perfect.” 

Your heart swells at the compliment, the appreciation, the care. He gently pats your window a few times before standing up straight and backing up from your car, moving back towards the dark green exit door. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Driving away, you’re giddy with excitement of the unknown. It was a dark path you wanted to pursue. And maybe it was fucking stupid how you could trust a complete stranger like this, how none of your past partners felt worthy of your first time, but the tattooed and pierced old southern gentleman did. It was fucked. But you were sort of fucked for Joel Miller. 

You hum to the radio as you experience pure adrenaline, thumb gliding over the raised numbers on his business card. You glance down and notice a small stamp of a fern in the top right corner, adjacent to his name and professional title. 

The Obsidian Gallery 

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

You can’t explain how your heart inadvertently races as you remember flashes of his hips rutting into yours, those same delicate fern leaves decorating the front of his hips. You were so fucked for Joel Miller. 

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