#private tattoo studio

[shatterthefragments]

I’m becoming who I’m meant to be, slowly.

I’m inhabiting my body as a home as I make it such that it is a home for me.

💖😌✨

Also it’s a lovely studio! Masks required, hepa filters running, quiet area, but still near a bus route, was quiet once some of the people left (my artist was also super surprised that all of the tables were in use when they arrived at the shop too!!) and even though we didn’t chat (they put in their faq basically that they often forget to chat so bring headphones or whatever to do while they work) it wasn’t awkward or anything. It felt like such a safe space and I adore it so much :) (and it’s more local to get to than the other one that I’m definitely also going to go back to too at some point hopefully this year) (yay local queer owned covid cautious studios!!!!!)

[erving-goffman]

not being on insta anymore has really nuked my knowledge of the local tattoo scene. and since i don't keep up with the artists i like anymore i don't feel vicious jealousy at seeing other people's new tattoos which probably explains why i haven't gotten any new ones in ages

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader | masterlist

Part 1: New Girl

You stare up at the sign reading ONE - FOUR - ONE in old English font. It’s an old building, all brick and stuffed in between several others. The windows have a thin, semi-opaque cover them to let in the light without allowing you to see inside.

You make your way to the front door, trying the handle and feeling stupid the moment you do. Your eyes connect with a small intercom beside you and you press it. There’s a small buzz, then silence.

A few beats go by, you debate pressing it again. You don’t want to be too insistent.

“Hello?” A voice comes through just before you reach up to press again.

“I, uh…” You stutter. Despite having many, many tattoos you somehow still feel like a poser every time you enter a new studio. “I have an appointment at one? With John?”

The man on the other side confirms your name before buzzing you in, the door letting out a loud click before you step inside. It both makes you more nervous and more relaxed - you can appreciate a closed storefront like that. Especially for something often as private as tattoos and piercings, but it still feels like you’re doing something wrong. Just a little bit.

The front room is lovely, though. The texture over the glass bathes the front room in a calm, iridescent light. There are a few waiting chairs, a low, black table piled high with books of flash. The front of the high counter is covered with posters and stickers from events going all the way back to the 90s.

The pretty man behind the counter repeats your name absently, obviously thinking about other things. Probably the half-finished design that sits abandoned on the iPad next to the appointment book he’s staring down at. You just nod in agreement.

“I’ll let John know you’re here.” He nods back, turning and pushing through a pair of saloon style doors to disappear down the hall. You take the time he’s gone to look around, flipping through yet another small book of designs on top of the counter. They’re good. Unique. Very gothic and interestingly detailed. Somehow both fine and bold simultaneously.

“Afternoon.” You jump, snapping the book shut and looking up to meet a pair of soft blue eyes and an easy smile. He looks you over briefly before extending his hand. “John Price.”

You murmur your name quietly, trying very hard to not stare at the incredible traditional work patched into a sleeve up his strong arm. Damn.

He leads you back to his work station - past a piercing studio and across from another room with the door shut and an IN SESSION sign on the door. The dull, buzzing sound of a tattoo machine drifts through.

“Now,” John says as he cuts down the extra paper around the stencil. “Just remember if you don’t like the placement we can move it. No problem.”

“Okay.” You nod, appreciative that he mentioned it. Sometimes these older men in the industry are gruff and have an attitude if you do anything less than treat them as if they are anything other than Absolutely Right and Perfect. Not that John came off that way. There’s a softness in his affect that relaxes your muscles and leaves you breathing easy.

“I know y’have several but I’m still going t’do a line and then see how you feel.” He murmurs, voice low.

It’s sweet, the way he’s walking you through it all despite the piece being small and you obviously having done with process several times. The sting of the needle is as expected and you murmur that it was fine before he really gets to work.

“Just let me know if y’need a break…” He mumbles, voice dipping even lower as he concentrates on his work. In any other situation that rumble would probably have you squirming in your seat. There’s a silence for a while before he speaks again, almost as if he forgot you were there. “This design have any significance?”

“I just wanted to get a new tattoo in my new hometown.” You snort - now at the point where most of your tattoos fall under the ‘because it’s cool’ category. “Probably stupid, seeing as I don’t have a job yet but… I don’t know. Feels like good luck.”

John grins. “Well then, thanks f’lettin’ me be your good luck charm.”

Your face heats at the rumble in his voice - glancing away nervously.

There’s another lapse of silence while he works, the only words exchanged are when he asks if you need a break and you decline. Eventually, toward the end you think, he asks another question. “What brought y’here then? If not a job?”

You would shrug, but you try to keep as still as possible while he works. “Just needed a change. Found an apartment easy enough - now I just need a way to make money.”

He hums in agreement. “What do you have experience in? Been around here a while - might be able to recommend somethin’.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You brighten up. “Receptionist work, mostly. Some admin assistant stuff.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, we’re hirin’ right now.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “I don’t have, like, a resume with me.”

“You’ve got enough tattoos I’m assumin’ you know how the industry works. My apprentice is going to start actually tattooin’ soon, an’ I hate t’ have him still pickin up extra duties at the front.” He sits back, carefully smoothing saniderm onto your arm before turning and reaching for the ink-stained sketchbook behind him. “Tell y’what, you write down a few references for me and your number. If they’ve got good things t’ say we can do a trial period.”

You blink at him. He’s awful forward, and insistent, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. A temp job is better than no job. “Alright…”

Just like that, you gained employment by way of making a stupid financial decision.

John’s an incredible boss. He pays fairly (generously, but you know better than to accidentally negotiate your pay down). He gives you plenty of hours and trains you well - with the help of his apprentice. He doesn’t get annoyed when you ask questions, seeming content with your determination to do your job to the best of your abilities. The shop goes by appointment only - no walk ins and potential customers have to call to book. John keeps things old fashioned like that. All pen and paper and cash transactions. An ATM sits in the waiting area. The most complicated part of your job is changing out the cash box in it, and that only take a few days to learn. Not that you mind, it’s sort of refreshing to not deal with some fuckass new and “improved” register and appointment system.

Turns out part of the reason they operate in such a way (other than preference) is because John is a big name in the tattoo world. You hadn’t realized until he pointed out a couple of your flash tattoos were from his best-selling book of designs.

“Wait, you’re famous!?” You gasp, staring wide eyed at the old binder of newspaper clippings and book sales. ‘My Mum Wasn’t Impressed At First - Now Even She Has One’ reads the title of one of the older clippings - yellowed with age. John lacks his signature beard in the photo. It almost looks wrong.

John chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his rolling chair. “You could say that. You really didn’t know about our shop before you booked?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I just saw y’all get recommended on Reddit.”

He barks out a laugh at that. It’s a low, pleased sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His beard only emphasizes the apples of his cheeks as he smiles. Yeah, that’s the other thing, having a hot boss is kind of fire.

Plus, he’s not the only one. The whole studio is full of hunks.

Kyle is easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Like, run for Miss Universe pretty. Big doe eyes with a little scar on his cheekbone - small golden hoops glitter from both his earlobes. They frame his face so well, creating a perfect diamond from them to his sparkling eyes to his pretty smile; curled and genuine with perfect teeth. He walks you through the booking process step by step, that first day, a warm hand on your back and the other tracing down the columns of the physical appointment book.

His work is as beautiful as he is. At least, the ones done on fake skin. John hasn’t let him tattoo anyone for real yet - but his practice sketches are immaculate. At least to a layman. Kyle himself never seems quite satisfied with them. He gets such vivid color, though.

“Tattooing darker skin is an art form in and of itself.” He murmurs as he works on a piece of very dark fake skin. “I want people like me t’ be able t’ get exactly what they want, with just as much color as they want.”

You nod along, sipping at your coffee from across the street that you’ve taken up stopping at every day before work. Kyle has so much passion for the industry. The look he gets in his eyes while talking about it or designing a new piece makes your heart flutter.

Simon, the other resident artist, you’re the least familiar with. You can’t quite decide how to feel about him, or decipher how he feels about you. John introduced you a couple days after you started, but all you got was a perfunctory nod and a ‘good luck’. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck, despite his blunt nature. Both thick arms covered in full, detailed sleeves. High quality, ornate black work. A man of stature - six feet and some change with a breadth that a barn would envy. Pretty, blonde hair cropped just short of turning to curls and dark eyes that bore through you to the very core.

Sometimes, when he comes to ask about his next appointment, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he stands close because he likes you. That his knee briefly knocks against yours because he wants to touch you - not that you’re crazy enough to believe it. Just crazy enough to be a tiny bit delusional for the fun of it.

You meet their resident piercer on the weekend. Apparently, he’d been away visiting family your first week.

He leans up over the counter, grinning at you from ear to ear. A well-built man only a few inches shorter than the others with a perfectly groomed mohawk. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a bonnie little thing?”

You frown, hackles raising instinctually. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Och, they dinnae tell ye about me yet? I’m hurt.” He pouts, thick brows emphasizing the puppy like nature of his blue eyes.

“Let her be, Soap.” Kyle sighs heavily, walking to his area of the front with a fresh sketchbook.

“Soap?” You repeat.

“Aye. Cause apparently I need my mouth washed out.” He pokes his tongue out, only to reveal a silver piercing. He holds a hand over the counter. “Johnny MacTavish.”

Johnny is the most egregious man you have ever met - always touching you in one way or another when he checks in about appointments and so on. His Scottish brogue rings in your ears, every word loud and confident. A hand finds it’s way around your waist, a finger poking under the band of whatever bottoms you wear that day. At any other job, you would have considered it harassment and tore him a new one.

Johnny’s different, though. If you shrug him off he steps away, if you flinch he pulls back. Plus, he does it to everyone else just as much as you. More, if you’re honest. If Simon is within arms reach they’re touching. You noticed Johnny pushing a hand under his shirt at one point, grabbing at the soft layer over Simon’s abs. (A great view for you, frankly.) Hell, you saw him casually hold Kyle’s hand while they were talking over lunch. Even John isn’t immune to the clinging. You don’t think much of it. Body modding attracts all sorts of people. If Johnny’s just a touchy guy then he’s just touchy. Besides, you don’t mind that much when he slips an arm around your waist or hooks his chin on your shoulder to talk to you. Warm breath tracing the shell of your ear with a quiet ‘bonnie lass’ punctuating ever other sentence. A slight pinch to your hip before he trots away to set up his station.

You feel nauseous when your trial month ends. John sits you down across from him in the back office. A practical space with not much more in it than a desk, computer and the large safe. None of you spend much time back here outside of counting down the cash and dragging the trash bags through the back door to the dumpster.

“Think you’ve done really well, dove.” He grins. You try to ignore the way the pet name looks warmth in your lower belly. “You’ve picked up quickly, you’re good on the phone. Kyle’s been very happy about the extra time to practice.”

You let out the biggest, most relieved sigh of your life, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t seem to mind Johnny, but if he gets to be too much let me or Simon know, yeah? He means well but he can be… well, you know.” John says absently as he reaches for something across the desk. “How are you feelin’?”

You nod. “I, uh, feel good. I like this position a lot. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

John nods along. “Good, good. I see no reason to not hire you on full time. Here.”

You hold put your hands as John drops a small, silver key into them. Holy shit! You get your own key! Up until now they’d been buzzing you in, but they’re trusting you with your very own key!

John must see the excitement on your face because he chuckles and extends a hand. “Welcome aboard, kid.”

A/N: I was very wine drunk writing most of this and it has next to no editing but I hope you enjoyed it! I just want something I can write that’s episodic and not as serious/brain heavy as Fancy or Across the Way

[sanemistar]

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 ‧₊˚ ⋅rockstar!choso headcanons . . .ᐟ

𝜗𝜚 contains: choso x gn!reader, fluff 𝜗𝜚 back: jjk m.list

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who flaunts about you when asked about his relationship with you in interviews, yet keeps your appearance private

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who ensures that you always get vip seats in the front row in all his gigs, he wants be able to spot you instantly amidst the crowd

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who lets you get the first sneak peek of his songs because he wants to hear your input on them as you praise him

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who passionately kisses you in the backstage before every gig because he claims it brings him good luck and helps him perform well on stage

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who cries whenever he gets a new piercing and you have to be there to comfort him

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who invites you to his studio because he loves seeing the admiration in your eyes as he sings, it's like a vip concert just for you

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who references you in every song, he even has one named after you in which he sings about his love and adoration for you

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who never misses a chance to facetime you when he’s away on long tours because he can’t handle not seeing you for long

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who rarely does any fan service for his fans because he only has his eyes on you

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who has a tattoo of you on his arm along with the date when you two started dating

⋅˚₊‧ ᡣ𐭩 rockstar!choso who tries to make some free time to go on dates with you despite his tight schedule

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @sylusdoll @ayrastv @hanaeriin @spkyssn @stunies @kalsplace

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PART 5

05 : DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

SUM : It’s been a few weeks and James makes a reappearance in your life, Remus too — they’ve fallen into bad habits. 

G. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james potter ; piercer remus lupin ; remus smokes ; drunk james ; reader is sad ; this is a little sad chapter ; fergus is an amazing, lovable manager ; i’m horrible at writing the scottish accent! ; james is an adorable drunk ; james’ car is sexy and red ; remiss has eye bags and smells of cigarette smoke ; uh oh ; it’ll get better soon! 

LENGTH : 2.8k

← PREV. : 04 | DISAPPEAR

You stare in disbelief at the notice that stares back at you mockingly from behind the glass door of the ‘Marauders Tattoo Parlour’. 

‘NOTICE’ it said in bold red sharpie, right above a handwritten message that you recognise as Remus’ neat penmanship, ‘due to personal reasons, Prongs, Padfoot and I (Moony) will be keeping the parlour closed until further notice. We kindly ask that you remain patient as private matters are being sorted through and resolved. We are still open for online and phone consultations to discuss designs and potential future appointments. Kindest Regards, The Marauders’. Beneath the polite and brief explanation of current circumstances was a business email address and phone number as well as working times for phone calls. 

The weeks following your discovery of the boys’ true relationship, you rarely ever passed their parlour. A little over three weeks has passed now and you’ve finally been able to walk past their studio doors close enough to read the notice. You’re frozen in place as dread and worry cultivates shards of sharpened ice to grow within you. Freezing up your senses, freezing up your mind and freezing up limbs. Yet, your heart is racing like never before, your blood pounding against your ears like a drummer gone mad. 

The feeling that settled in your stomach wasn’t a pleasant one, especially when you felt completely responsible for the boys’ sudden hiatus in business. They had often talked to you about how much the parlour meant to them, how it was their best investment and remains their biggest source of opportunity — an opportunity to help people express themselves. It’s a form of freedom that many have been deprived of (themselves included) and they were honoured to now be able to provide that same freedom to others. For them to completely close up shop like this was completely bizarre. 

How long have they been closed for?

You bite your lip and will yourself to move your feet, the ice in your limbs breaking uncomfortably, shattering into a million knives of ice, shooting pins and needles up your arms and legs as if your blood had been frozen up too. As you walk away, you slip your phone back into your pocket, where your hands also remain. 

While contemplating what could have happened to your favourite tattooists and piercer, you made sure to save a picture of their business phone number onto your photos. 

You were never able to call their business number. And you had many excuses lined up to absolve your cowardly behaviour. The main one being that it was their business number, it wasn’t meant to be used for a conversation between friends. Were you even still friends at this point? The thought made you shiver and stole the appetite right from your stomach. It was a greedy little thing cowardice, regret too. They’ve stolen many things from you, your appetite was their favourite thing to purloin, motivation another, happiness as well. Nasty, selfish and greedy thieves. But you weren’t brave enough to confront them and make them stop. And that, alone, makes you their willing accomplice — so who’s really to blame? 

It didn’t help that through this entire ordeal, you’ve realised that none of the boys have exchanged phone numbers with you. To say that you were bitter was an understatement. If they never gave you their number, why would they want you ringing them in the first place? 

…maybe they didn’t have a reason to? You couldn’t remember a single time after the day you first brought them that homemade ‘thank you’ lunch where you hadn’t seen them on a regular basis. And now that you were used to seeing them almost daily, your life has since been bleeding of colour and vibrance. Days are dull and monotonous, it’s hard to motivate yourself to do pretty much anything, let alone your job.

“Yer’ve been sighin’ so much these days, I’m startin’ to see wrinkles forming’ on yer cute lil’ face lass,” Furgus comments, nudging your hip with his own as he passes by you behind the counter. 

Flustered, you scramble to get back to work with a quick apology, evidence of your embarrassment heating up your cheeks as you do so, “I’m so sorry Gus,”

With hearty laugh, the burly Scottish man pats you on the back and whispers some reassuring words, “Yer’ve got nothin’ ta worry about lass, I jus’ wan’ed ta see if you were al’ight is all,”

“I’m okay,” you smile grateful for his care only to be met with suspicious eyes and a deep, bearded frown. 

“Don’t grow a habit o’ lyin’ ta me lass, it won’t do ya any good,” his words make more heat rise to your cheeks but you reassure him as best as you can in between taking orders and serving drinks. It was no use however, Fergus saw you as his own daughter, he knew you like the back of his hand and you know that he had his suspicions of your odd behaviour lately — all derived from a sadness he didn’t like you wearing. Thankfully, he decided to leave you alone with your sorrow and regret and focused back on managing the pub. Tonight was pretty average, you saw the regulars and greeted them with a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes; if any of them noticed, they never said a thing about it to you. Thank god. 

It seemed like it would be another regular night until you caught sight of a familiar figure in the corner of your eye. You had just gotten back from your break when you spot James at a far table, nursing a pint and buried under a sheet of suffocating misery all on his lonesome. 

“James?” you breathed in disbelief with a wide-eyed stare directed right at him. 

“You know that guy?” Bonnie, your coworker, asks in a whisper into your ear and you had no choice but to nod your head in confirmation — you’ve already outed yourself, there was no point in lying, “well he’s been drinkin’ himself to death for the past hour or so, what’s gotten into him? D’ya know?”

“No…” you’re a liar. 

“Well ya be’er find out or else imma have ta kick the poor bastard outta ‘ere,” Fergus comments, his arms folded over his large chest and his brows knitted together in disapproval. 

“May I—…?” you begin to ask softly, sending a curious look towards Fergus who meets your eyes with a small smile and a wink. 

“Consider yerself off fer da night,” with a smile, you thank him and take a breath before making your way over to the miserable tattooist. 

“Angel!” James smiles happily at the sight of you, his drunken state adding an adorable dopiness to his already charming grin, “It’s you~” he coos and wraps his arms around your middle to bury his face into your stomach when you were close enough, “I missed you so much, angel~” he sighs, his voice muffled by your clothes as he refuses to detach himself from you, “even if this is just another dream…” you barely hear him and you almost curse yourself from being able to because his words make your heart drop to your stomach. 

“James,” you ask softly, “can you please get up?” 

“Why?” he shuffles to press his chin into your lower belly and stare up at you with those sweet hazel eyes of his. The sneaky bastard, he knows how weak at the knees you become from his simple stare. You’ve never told him so and often put in the effort to not show it but you know, he knows. 

“Because you need to go home,” he gives an incredulous look at your reasoning and he’s adorable doing so, even in his drunken state. 

“Why would I need to do that when you’re right here?” he slurs and hiccups, your heart pounding erratically at his words.  

“James please—”

“No!”

“James—”

“‘m not going home! I wanna stay here with you,” he presses his face into your stomach again and sobs into your clothes, “you’re gonna disappear again,” he sobs miserably, “I don’t want that…” 

“Please just let me call you a taxi James?” he doesn’t respond, pressing his face further into your stomach as you comb your fingers through his dark hair, you touch gentle and comforting, coaxing him into some compliance, “remind me of your address again and I’ll call you a taxi, okay?”

“NO!” 

You suppress a defeated sigh. 

It takes several minutes of coaxing until you’re finally able to take his phone from him. He refuses to let you call him a taxi and you weren’t going to force him to walk home alone in his drunken state so you’re going to have to do the one thing you can think of that’ll guarantee his safe return home. Not that you’ll enjoy it because it means confrontation. 

“Can you tell me your passcode, please, James?” you ask in a gentle whisper, only to him, “I need to do something very important on your phone,”

With a large smile he recites the digits, “22nd of the 6th, 17,” the way he says it makes your raise a brow. Sensing your curiosity, James answers your silent question, “is the day Moony, Pads and I became official,” he giggles adorably to himself as you smile somewhat sadly — another reminder that you should stay away. You don’t say anything to prompt him further and, instead, type in the code before looking through his contacts. It takes you a moment but you’re eventually pressing call and waiting patiently for Remus to pick up.

“…James?” Remus’ familiar, kind voice speaks tiredly through the phone and you don’t know whether to breath a sigh of relief or worry, “Hello?”

It takes you a moment but you finally will yourself to speak, “Hey, um, Remus?” 

“…Dove?” he’s in complete disbelief and it’s evident in his voice, “Is that really you?”

“uh…yeah,” you chirp sheepishly and Remus is all forms of elated but his excitement dwindles quickly when he realises how you’re able to call him. 

“Why do you have James’ phone?” you were right to call him, knowing that he was preceptive, reasonable and easy to talk to even with the tension in the air. Patiently, you explain the situation, never taking your fingers away from James’ hair as he practically purrs into your form, adoring the physical contact and muttering to himself happily. It’s especially loveable like this, considering that it’s him being dopey and giggly and not anyone else.

“Oh…” Remus sighs, clearly disappointed, “I’m so sorry, darling, I’ll get him right away,” 

“It’s no trouble, Rem,” it was hard not to cringe when the familiar nickname easily rolls off your tongue. As if nothing happened — oh how you wish for such a reality!

“Just tell me where you are and I’ll be right over,” you don’t know if you’re just imagining it but there’s a considerable shift in his voice, he sounds much softer after hearing his nickname easily fall from your lips. 

“We’re at the Boar and Elephant pub on Chapel Road,” 

“Alright, I’ll be there soon,” with a click, he was gone and you were left to keep James satisfied until he got there. It wasn’t an overly tough job; James seemed perfectly content nuzzling into your stomach with his arms hugging you in place as your fingers massage his scalp and gently groom his hair. He’s like a puppy, eager to receive affectionate cuddles and pets. If he had a tail, he’d be wagging it like crazy and you giggle to yourself at the mental image it conjures up. 

“I missed that…” James mutters, maybe to himself but it wasn’t clear.

“I’m sorry?”

“I miss the sound of you giggling,” you don’t know what to say but he continues, going off on a tangent, “it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty. It’s like the sound of a cute little bell ringing…so pretty— pretty pretty pretty!” you can’t lie to yourself, he’s absolutely precious, “I miss you so much angel, why did you go away? I don’t want you away, I want you with me, and with Remus and with Sirius too…” he murmurs something into your stomach that you weren’t able to pick up but don’t press him further on the matter, fearing that your heart might just about burst if you do. You can’t afford to hope for such a fantasy with them when it could never become a reality. 

It just wasn’t possible…

“Not fair!”James whines, making grabby hands at you as Remus, with the force of a gentle giant, manoeuvres him into the back seat of a red Jaguar XJR. Dealing with a defiant baby was a struggle so dealing with a giant, beefy baby like James Potter was like trying to control a hurricane. But Remus had a magic touch and arguably had more of a silver tongue than Sirius did so he made it look like a walk in the park. It was astounding, “I wanna be with my angel!” James sobs as Remus closes the door on him, putting a stop to James’ needy cries. 

“She’s not yours, she’s no one’s,” was Remus’ response even though he had already closed the door, James unable to hear him and the hint of dismay coherent in his tired voice, “thank you for looking after him, Dove, you’re always too kind,”

“N-no, don’t worry about it,” he smiles down at you, silence filling up the space between your two lonely figures under the amber lamplight. He doesn’t seem to mind the hush in conversation but knowing that his eyes were fixed on you was unnerving, “so! Is that your car?” you ask, desperate for a change in conversation; your restless fiddling making your intentions obvious but Remus keeps to himself. 

“No, no, it’s not mine,” he answers with a short chuckle, “this is James’ car,”

“Oh…” you hum to yourself thoughtfully, eyes carefully examining the body and model of the car, “I see,” it looks like a car James would have, you think to yourself. There was more silence until Remus finally brings himself to commence your farewells. 

“Well I suppose I should head off, I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” your heart stutters, almost to a stop, at his words, even more so when you see him hesitate upon leaning down. A victim to your own habits, you find yourself closing your eyes and awaiting his gentle kiss goodbye against your temple.

…But it never comes.

“Goodbye then,” he calls over his shoulder, and rounds the car to get to the driver’s seat. 

“—Do you smoke?” you suddenly ask, in some part desperate to extend your interaction with each other and other parts curious of the lingering cigarette smoke you smell on his clothes, masking his usually comforting fragrance. It’s strong enough that you were able to catch it from your formal amount of distance with each other and it struck you as odd. You had never seen him smoke before. 

Remus laughs a brief and strained sound as he looks at you from over the hood of the car, did he always have such deep eye-bags? “Not usually,” he sends you a sheepish smile once you’re finally able to meet his eyes, “but I’ve recently taken to it again,“ he sees worry and grief fill your eyes and hurries to correct himself, ”—But don’t worry, Dove,” his features are gentle and kind, warm and… forgiving, “I’m okay,” 

The world slows as you watch him bend his head to sit in the drivers seat. It’s been too long. For you, at least. This can’t continue. It scares you to think about where this may go if you leave it to late. It’s only been three weeks! If this is the result…you dread to think about what would happen if things went on for longer than that. James is drinking himself to death. Remus is smoking cigarettes. What about Sirius? Your stomach twists uncomfortably, painfully, your heart too. 

“No! You’re not!” you shout, tears of anger welling up in your eyes as Remus stops and looks over at you once again, his breath hitching when he sees your eyes glistening with tears, “you’re not okay…” 

“Dove—”

“I’m coming by tomorrow,” you announce, “at lunch,” this was a commitment you’re making, a commitment to him, to them. Even if you’re heartbroken, that doesn’t give you the right to be a bad friend. You brave a watery smile, “I’ll make your favourites…so you better be there!”

→ NEXT : 06 | SELFISH DESIRES

A/N : i’m so sooo sorry for my depiction of the scottish accent, i really tried my best, please don’t hate me! if you have any ideas of how i could make it better, please say so, i’d really appreciate it. Also, i know that this isn’t completely fluff but we’re getting there, you’ll have to wait and see in the next chapter! 

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88

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@susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @mangodamochiii @queerqueenlynn @l3xiluve @brain-has-left @bunbunbl0gs @kneelforloki @citrusiove @virtualbuni @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @that1nerd-20 @wolfstar4everbitches @skepvids @dearmy-diary @littledollfacebaby @mylifeisnothing @em16cor @krazyk99 @imdoingbetternow @realalpacorn @remussbitch @swiftieeras1989 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @canthavetoomuchchaos @rckstrbee @b-i-h-i @ennycutie @kneelforloki @theteaobsessedbug @padfoot1313 @d1gital-data @venezsuwayla @melllinaa

[pinkcarnatixns]

georgia stanway | flowers for vases

synopsis georgia does her first tattoo on you, it leads to a confession after of years of feelings [1.6K] contents best friends to lovers, nervous georgia, tattooing, mentions of needles

You normally took pride in your fearlessness when it came to adding to your growing collection of ink on your skin, but now you were completely petrified.

When Georgia had first approached you to be her canvas for her very first tattoo on real skin, you had immediately agreed- your haste chalked up to a trust built on years of friendship and definitely not the fact you’d do anything she asked. 

What your sometimes scatterbrained best friend had forgotten to mention was that this was not a private affair, but a moment that was going to be televised for all the nation to see. Of course, this meant that you’d have to act like you weren’t completely smitten with the woman-  in front of a bunch of cameras while you tried to not blush at her hands on you. 

Safe to say, you were quite ticked off with Georgia when you first arrived at the small tattoo studio’s address, only to be greeted with people rushing filming equipment inside the building from a van with a big ‘BBC’ plastered on the side. When you entered the studio with a quirked eyebrow and crossed arms, her face clearly dropped as she realized her mistake, rushing over to your side. 

“I completely forgot to mention the filming part, didn’t I?” She pouts at you, grabbing a hold of your bicep to plead her case.

You sighed, “You know, I really thought this was a sweet gesture of trust between us, not to get you a big check from the BBC.”

At your jest, she deflated even further and you struggled to stop your lips from quirking up at her dramatics. You could never stay mad at her for very long, especially when she made you laugh just by being in the same room as her. Still, you were a bit mortified at the possible outing of your feelings for the girl being broadcast to the world, so you tried your best to hold your ground. 

“It’s not like that at all! You know there’s nobody else I’d rather share this with, I swear!” She held onto your biceps tightly, and you felt your resolve washing away like a sand castle with the wave of her cologne that hit your nose. 

Her hands were trembling lightly, and at her gaze and proximity you quickly turned shy, only managing to mumble out, “You don’t mind sharing it with everyone in the nation, clearly.” 

However, taking pity on her already clearly fried nerves, you followed the snark up with a playful eye roll and returned her gaze. “Well, since I’m here, let’s see what you’re going to put on my body forever.” 

Her already big brown eyes seemed to light up at your compliance, and she gently pulled on your forearms to uncross them with a blinding smile. She effortlessly initiated the intertwining of your hands, nearly dragging your shocked form to the ground with her fervor to show you what she had drawn. 

She got shy as you both approached her already prepped little work table, going quiet as you peered down at the paper and leaning into your body for comfort. The warmth that spread through your body at your still entwined hands creeped all the way up to your ears at what she had designed just for you: a little broken flower vase. 

When you two had first met as kids, Georgia, persistent to impress you with her football skills- had wrongly decided to do so inside your house. When this naturally ended in the broken heirloom, and your mother’s harsh scolding, you had taken the fall for the overexcitable girl. She had been inconsolable at the mess she had caused, promising to make up for it someday. To this day, she still felt guilty for the incident while you often brought it up, joking that she was only still by your side to repay her debt. 

Through all the growing pains and hard times, you had stuck by each other’s sides. Even when you got into fights, one of you would always bring up the vase as an olive branch, knowing that it really meant that you could never get rid of one another. 

Your eyes got misty, your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the hustle and bustle around you two, “Georgia, that’s so sweet- you sap.”

“You really like it? Don’t lie.” Her hand nervously fiddled with the rings that adorned yours, both of you refusing to meet each other’s eyes. In a moment of bravery, you pecked her on the cheek and rested your head on her slightly taller shoulder. 

“I love it. Can’t wait to have it on me forever.” You punctuated the genuine words with a squeeze to your intertwined hands, hoping to calm her nerves with the action. 

She stumbled a bit over her sentence, before forcing it out nearly too fast for you to catch it, “There’s three flowers on one side and then one on the other. Y’know like 31, like my number at Bayern.”

Your head jumped off your shoulder, gaping at her as she was locked in a staring contest with the table- cheeks red like she had just played a full 90. With your heartbeat nearly breaking at the confines of your ribcage, you decided to lean into the moment, tripping over your words a bit but whispering. “That’s perfect. I like it even more now.”

At your reassurance, she shyly met your sincere gaze, struggling to keep a goofy smile subdued as you nodded at each other.

Your little bubble was broken when a crew member called for her presence, apologizing for interrupting as he dragged her over for an interview. You watched on with hearts in your eyes as she spoke to the camera, her sincere appreciation for the art shining through with every word and the sparkle in her eye. Caught up in watching her, you barely realized when they had wrapped up, rushing over to her side after missing your name being called a couple times.  

They perched you up on a stool for her to place the stencil on your calf, sighing in relief as it peeled off exactly as she wanted it. She gently held your hand to help you down, using it to guide you over to the table while instructing you to lay down comfortably.

When she actually starts dancing the needle over your skin and attempting to answer questions at the same time, she clearly struggles. Nearly every time she punctures your flesh, she can’t help but look to you for your reaction- scared to hurt you. You try not to laugh as her sentences trail off again and again as she continually locks eyes with you, knowing she’s going to make the editor’s job a nightmare. As she nears finishing, you try to shoot her encouraging smiles, wishing you could tell her how good she was doing if not for the mics that would pick it up. 

The tattoo takes quite long for how simple the design is, partly due to her insistence on doing everything right, stopping for the littlest things. It’s sweet that she’s so adamant to not hurt you or have the ink blow out, but it’s pretty comical and clear that the camera crew is getting antsy. You are happy to sit for as long as she needs, content with the heat of her palm through her gloves soothing the ache of the needle, but try to silently encourage her in order to get everyone out on time. 

As she takes the final swipe of a paper towel over your skin and declares that she’s finished with a shaky breath, the first thing she does is to once again look at you. She visibly relaxes as you send her a beaming smile, taking your hands to move you to sit upright. You admire her work as she turns to give you her water bottle, watching you like a hawk as you take a sip.

You get shy at her attention, “I’m not going to pass out you know, I’m literally covered in tattoos already.”

“You’re really feeling alright? We can take pictures after you have a second, yeah?” 

“Georgia really, you look much more lightheaded than me. You did great, I promise.” As you try to scoot off the bench, her hands stop you- pinning your thighs to the table. The position forces her to lean closer to you, putting you at eye level with one another. She has a certain determination in her eyes, but is clearly quite mortified at the proximity her actions have caused.

Still, with her big brown eyes boring into yours, slightly rough palms on your naked thighs, and the slight dizziness that you do feel- you look around the room to see everyone busy packing up before you do something drastic. As you turn back to her soft gaze, a slight tilt to her head and a quick glance at your lips is all the encouragement you need. 

Your hands cover hers, desperate for something to ground you as you lean in to peck her lips. At your slight movement, she excitedly surges forward and you clash much harder than you had expected. 

Pulling away, you’re both reduced to hysterics at the release of the tension that the day caused, and for finally giving in to a moment to had both waited for all your lives. Who knew it would take her marking you forever for you both to make a move.

a/n: wow so sorry I have not uploaded in forever! midterms absolutely kicked my butt and then I was celebrating my birthday! anyways I'm not super happy with this but I hope yall enjoyed <3

my requests are still open and i will really try to be much quicker in getting to them lol

[ghost-proofbaby]

ghost… hear me out.

what about perv!tattoo artist eddie 👁️👄👁️

like you’re good friends, have been for a long time but he wants you so bad. so when you finally start coming to him for some work he nearly loses his damn mind. and you want him just as bad obvi

but say you’re getting something on your collarbone, and you really should sit on his lap for this one. just so he can get all those intricate details perfect, yeah?

or like you mentioned getting an ass/hip piece done. and you know he really should help you check on it during the healing process, any good friend would do that right?

sorry omg my mind started going crazy thinking about this i’ll shut up now

never shut up, nonnie. this is the shit i live for.

i see your vision and raise you a new conglomeration of all the sinning i’ve flooded my page with the last 24 hours: perv!tattoo artist!eddie who works tirelessly to convince you to let him do your hip/ass tattoo. begs and begs and begs. draws up 5+ designs, all catered to all your wants and needs.

and he’s good. he’s your friend. you’d be getting an insane discount.

so you’d finally agree, seeing absolutely no downside, the style he was offering being similar enough to that original artist you were going to book. and it’s better this way, of course, since eddie has his private studio versus the shop you would have gone to instead. when you strip down to nothing but a thong, when the teeny straps of it are being shoved out of every which way for him to expose the necessary skin, when you feel the first chill from his hands brushing over the back of your thigh that you convince yourself is due to exposure and not just because it’s him - you’re gonna be grateful it’s just you and eddie in the room.

when the pain of the needle has you somehow simultaneously wincing and letting out little whimpers, because have you always had a pain kink? or is it just the man behind the needle?, you’ll be thanking the universe you chose to go with the intimate setting and your best friend rather than some wide open space and a stranger.

and when that first good girl falls from his lips, more praises of how you’re doing so good for him following, you’re going to be grateful it’s only eddie and those four walls to witness the way you’re looking at your best friend.

eddie’s grateful, too. no one else needs to hear how pretty you sound for him. not yet. not when he hasn’t even touched you properly yet.

not when he’s just getting started.

[yapperblog]

Belongings

Tags: established relationship, smut with tiny bit of plot, +18

Explicit RPF below don't interact if you are not comfortable with that

You watch Joost take things out of his pockets and put on the top of your dresser while he tells you about his day. The gesture is so simple, yet so intimate. You love seeing his belongings around your apartment, it serves as a little reminder that he is really yours.

He turns to you briefly and smiles to himself mid sentence at the fact that you are watching him so intently from your bed, already in your pyjamas. Your bed looks so warm and comfortable, it has been a miserable rainy day, he can't wait to get in and nestle into your waiting arms. His favorite place in the world.

He takes off his puffy jacket and leaves it on the chair nearby, revealing the hoodie he is wearing underneath. He throws his hat onto the same chair and runs a hand through his hair to tame it after wearing a hat all day. You see him reach into his pockets, taking out his phone, wallet, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and random receipts he collected throughout the day, leaving it all on your dresser. You smile listening to him to talk and the sound of clatter.

He also puts the keys to your apartment next to the assortment of his belongings. You gave him the keys a couple of months ago, so that he could come over any time he wants or if you accidentally fall asleep waiting for him after a long day of working in the studio or traveling and he could still come in. He prefers coming straight to you instead of sleeping alone at his own place and coming over in the morning. He sleeps so much better in your embrace and especially after long hours he needs it. He put the keys you gave him on his own keychain next to all of his own, and added a charm which reminds him of you.

"There is leftover dinner in the kitchen, if you want." you say as he takes off his watch and rubs his wrist.

"We ordered takeaway to the studio, but thank you." he turns to look at you and smiles. Even a small gesture of offering him dinner wakes up the butterflies in his stomach. He loves being taken care of, knowing you cooked having him in mind spreads a warm feeling all over his body. He asks about your day, and while you tell him, he continues to undress watching you talk explaining something with your hands. He takes off his hoodie and it leaves him only in a tight white tank top and jeans.

You try to continue telling your story without stumbling over words, while he is leaning against your dresser, nodding listening you, his hard nipples and chest hair visible through the tank top. He truly is the most beautiful person you have ever laid your eyes own, not only is it difficult to talk under his gaze, you try not to drool at the sight before you.

"My eyes are up here." he points to his eyes with two fingers and laughs. He starts to take off his jeans, undoing the belt and zipper slowly, looking into your eyes, pulling it down his thighs slowly.

You whistle as if catcalling him as a joke. "Really hard to keep my eyes up there, hot stuff."

You've been together for quite some time now, but it never gets old seeing him undress before you. He turns around and folds the jeans putting them on the same chair his other clothes are piled on. You take the opportunity to admire how good his ass looks. As much as he loves giving you a light spank on your bottom in private when you walk past, you are obsessed with his as much.

He tries to act so tough and laugh it off, but you see him blush. At the same time your comments and seeing how much you love his body feeds his confidence and makes him bolder.

"Kind of unfair you are all covered under the blanket, don't you think?" he takes off his glasses and comes to stand at the end of the bed, as he takes off the tank top leaving him only in black Polo Ralph Lauren boxer briefs. His tattoos now on full display for you.

You move the blanket, feeling the cold air in the room invade your body, you pat the bed next to you inviting him in, your arms open. He moves quickly into your embrace, puts his arms tightly around you, and buries his head into your neck. You hear him let out a breath, tickling your neck.

"So nice to finally be back." he murmurs into your skin, you feel his body relax as he puts more of his weight on you. He faintly smells of a drink he must have had earlier and cigarettes. You wrap your arms around him, enjoying the feel and smell of him. One of your hands slowly moves in circles on his back, while the other is tangled in his hair. You notice how long it has gotten and remember the time when he asked if you could cut his hair during quarantine, when you were still friends and came to a mutual conclusion that you will stay at his apartment, because you both couldn't bear the thought of not seeing each other daily. You butchered the haircut horribly and it makes you chuckle at the memory.

He lifts his head, studying your face. His eyes are blazing, it might be a trick of the warm light coming from the bedside lamp, but you still feel the heat coming off of him. His gaze drops to your lips. He licks his own and leans in to kiss you. His soft lips touch yours and you melt under him, savouring the feeling. You can't help but moan as he moves you even closer to him, not leaving an inch of space between you. He angles his head to deepen the kiss, his moustache tickling your upper lip. As he moves on top of you, your pyjama top rides up a little and you feel his soft stomach press into yours.

"Did you miss me?" he asks as he pulls away.

You pretend to think, tapping your finger on your chin. "Umm. No, I didn't." you joke to tease him.

Corners of his lips turn into a smirk. "Yeah?"

He moves his leg to slip in between yours, slotting it perfectly against you. You stiffen a moan feeling his thigh stimulate you slightly, your arms tighten around his shoulders.

"Didn't miss me at all?" his arm moves under your top, slowly caressing your waist. His hand is still a little cold against your warm skin and it leaves a trace of goosebumps under his touch. He sees your eyes get darker with need.

You need more of him, you lean in to kiss him, but he leans away just out of your reach. "No no, admit it." he says a teasing note in his voice and smiles, a dimple revealing itself.

"You are unbelievable." you laugh and are once again proven that you can never out-tease him. He always wins in that game. "I missed you so much" you put your hands on the sides of his face and bring him closer, placing kisses on both his cheeks. "So so much" a kiss to his forehead. He is basking in your affection, his eyes closed, fully enjoying your words and actions. He jokes that he wants to hear you say that you missed him, but in reality he actually craves confirmation, even though in his heart he knows the truth already.

Your lips finally reach his. With a self-satisfied look he leans in closer whispering "That's right." His mouth catches yours roughly as he covers your body with his. You moan at the pressure and his hands tighten on your waist. Your lips part for his tongue, the tang of the drink he had and the taste of cigarettes tangling pleasantly in your mouth, because this taste belongs to him.

It feels like you are dissolving, turning into liquid under him. His mouth moves down your jaw, over your throat. Your hands scrape through his blonde hair, a little damp because he must have gotten caught in the rain outside. He lets out a low groan, his hand moving up to your chest, fingers brushing over your nipple. He keeps squeezing your boob with one hand, pinching and twisting your nipple, making your back arch, his leg which is still in between yours, adding delicious pressure.

He undoes the top buttons of your pyjama top to reveal your chest to him and continues to kiss lower down your neck, your collarbones, chest. "So beautiful" he says in between kisses finally reaching the neglected nipple, he wraps his lips around it sucking into his mouth. Your breath hitches and hands skim up his back, fingernails sinking into his warm smooth skin.

A loud moan escapes you. He doesn't tease you for it, it only urges him on further. You want him to see you like this and know he is the reason why. His hands move slowly to your sides, pressing himself flush against you, he starts to help you move against his leg slotted in between your legs. He feels how wet you got through your panties, a low hum rumbles through him.

"So wet for me already" his mouth moves to the side of your throat, teeth sinking into your collarbone. "You should not miss me more often."

Your laugh dies in your throat as he rolls his hips against your side, friction of his stomach and hard cock electric. "I bet I could slip right in already." his hand moves down your stomach, his hand looks big splayed on you, it makes your pussy clench at the thought. He stops at the waistband of your panties, looking up at you asking for permission.

"Please, Joost, don't stop." you whine giving him a green flag.

His fingers move past the waistband, reaching exactly where you need him, through your folds, feeling how wet you are. His finger enters you, feeling you squeeze tightly. He starts to move inside you, making scissoring motions and adding a second finger to stretch you and get ready for him. In return, you reach between you and palm him through his boxers. You want to feel him hot and bothered for you too.

"Fuck." he hisses, his head tilting back at your touch. You reach into his boxers, wrapping your hand around him, feeling his hard and heavy cock, tip already leaking pre-cum. You've always loved how much your pleasure turns him on. He groans as he moves himself within your hand.

You push his boxers down, and continue to stroke him with one hand.

"I want you inside of me." you say, your voice raspy from how worked up he got you.

He nods quickly and stands up to take off his underwear fully, at the same time you take off your top and panties, laying down ready for him. He crawls in bed, maintaining eye contact, until he settles in between your legs.

"I want you so bad." you say to him, encouraging him to continue.

"I love hearing you say it." he confesses, but you already knew it.

He moves his hand up and down his length a couple of times and leans in to line himself up with your hole and finally pushes into you. Slowly, carefully, his face only inches from yours. As much as he loves being adventurous with you in bed, trying new positions, missionary on days like this, when the thought of you wouldn't leave his head all day, seeing you so wet and ready for him, is all he wants.

As you move together, it is as if the world around you stops, you hear the rain drops hit against the window, but you are sure no one else exists in this moment, only the two of you.

His hands try to touch you everywhere at once, yours splayed across his shoulders. He looks into your eyes, trying to reach your soul. He thrusts deeper, harder.

"Fuck, Joost."

"Too much?" he asks, slowing.

You shake your head no, he understands and continues with no restraint.

"I thought about you all day." you say. "Thought about touching myself at the memory of us together. But I didn't, I was waiting for you." your voice breathy, from his thrusts.

Your words make his head spin. He can't believe you want him as much as he wants you. You feel him twitch inside of you. You don't want this moment to ever end.

"But even my imagination wouldn't be as good as this" you say. Your voice and confessions make it so hard for him to last.

"You are perfect." He leans in to kiss you. "Get on your hands and knees for me."

He helps you turn around, easily moving your body. He lines up and pushes back into you. You brace yourself on your arms, in this position he can reach even deeper, setting a steady pace. The sound of your mixed moans and skin slapping filling the room. You can feel the bulge forming in your stomach how deep he is in you.

One of his stays on your hip moving you as he wants, the other wraps around your torso to reach you clit, he starts to draw fast circles and your arms give out, your back arching for even a better angle for the both of you.

"You feel so good around me." he says, voice strained, thrusts getting harder and faster, his own peak nearing.

You bury your face into the pillow and let out a loud moan "Fuckfuckfuck, I'm cuming." as you reach your climax, he feels you squeeze impossibly tight around him. Something about this night, being so needy for him all day, watching him undress, seeing his belongings in every corner of your apartment made your climax the strongest in a while.

He manages a few more thrusts, his chest now pressed to your back, both hands holding your hips, chasing his own release. You are glad he is holding you, otherwise your legs would have given up too. With a low groan pressed tightly against you feel him release into you, as his thrusts come to a gradual stop, as he stuffs his cum inside of you.

He massages your asscheeks and starts to pull out, seeing your mixed release, trickle down your thigh.

He wants to keep it all in, but knows how overstimulated you must be, so he doesn't, instead he plops down next to you.

You put your head on his chest, which is now sticky with sweat, but you don't mind. You kiss his hairy chest, looking up at him, your eyes full of love for him.

He reaches down to kiss you, but he starts smiling so wide, it turns into a clash of teeth. You both laugh and then settle into comfortable silence, as you listen to his steady heartbeat and he draws mindless patterns on your arm with his fingers, enjoying the closeness.

"I am actually really keen on the leftover dinner." he says. "I just wanted you first."

He feels you laugh against his stomach. "Let's get cleaned up and then eat" you suggest.

[pin-k-ink]

glyph // terushima yuuji

tw ⇢ tattoo artist!yuuji, fingering, dirty talk, biting, marking, nipple play, unprotected sex, mild overstimulation, manhandling

wc ⇢ 4.9k

The doorbell chimed with a cheerful tinkle as you stepped into the cozy tattoo parlor. Despite having made this particular pilgrimage several times before, you still felt a ripple of anxious anticipation as you glanced around the warm, dimly lit space.

Behind a vintage wood-and-glass counter stationed just inside the entrance, stood the compact, heavily tattooed owner giving you a welcoming grin and a lazy two-fingered salute.

"Here for another bit of my world-class ink?" Came the familiar raspy tones, clearly modulated to broadcast over the steady thrum of nu-metal currently filling the studio.

You answered his jovial greeting with an easy grin of your own, sidling up to lean casually against the front counter's lacquered surface. "Damn straight. Though if it ends up being subpar work like last time, you're gonna have to give me a freebie make-good," you shot back with a wink.

Terushima scoffed loudly at the playful dig, rolling his eyes dramatically as he made a show of slinging his forearm across the countertop -- putting his own extensive body art brazenly on display in the process. Colorful renderings of traditional Japanese imagery swirled in mesmerizing patterns from wrist to collar, punctuated by crisp black line work and embellished with strategic flashes of vibrantly stylized shading.

"Listen smartass," he drawled without any real heat. "If you want to keep deluding yourself that you didn't bewitch me into making masterpieces grace that gorgeous skin of yours, be my guest. Just don't come crying when your dumbass blows our next appointment making dopey excuses for a rain check."

You laughed, easily settling into the familiar cadences of your long-running, playful banter with the talented tattoo artist. Truth be told, you relished these brief preludes to each session nearly as much as the actual artistry that followed. Terushima's unfiltered charisma and effortless way of putting you at ease was unmatched...not to mention how you always inexplicably found yourself growing flustered under the sheer magnetism of his piercing stare and toothy grins.

Shoving that disconcerting train of thought aside, you arched a single challenging brow. "Listen blade-stud, if I do end up missing another appointment, you'd best rush right over and tattoo THIS masterpiece yourself." You accompanied the provocative statement with a full-body once over that could only be described as a deliberate ogle. "Not that you'd find that to be such an imposition..."

Terushima's eyes predictably followed your shamelessly appraising perusal of his lean, athletic form -- taking in the molten embers that flared to life in his already smoldering gaze. He momentarily dragged his pierced tongue across those full lips in a move so blatant it made your mouth go dry, clearly chewing over some filthy riposte to lob back in your direction.

Anxiety and something dangerously akin to arousal thrummed through you in equal measure as the heavy tension stretched out between you, thick as river mud. A few abortive throat-clearings from the other occupants of the waiting area finally snapped you out of the heated stalemate.

Flushing dull crimson, you backpedaled with a somewhat sheepish grin. "So uh...y'think we can squeeze in that new side-piece today? I've got the design reference and everything pulled up if you're free."

Terushima eyed you with a distinctly predatory gleam lingering in the depths of those tawny irises for another suspended beat. Then, with the flick of a switch, he was oozing pure professionalism once more -- chasing away the thick undercurrents of provocative energy as a friendly grin stretched across his angular features.

"Course we can, no sweat," he agreed easily, straightening away from the counter and nodding towards the interior corridor leading to the private studio spaces. "Right this way, let's get you set up so I can pour all my creative juices into whatever you had in mind."

You opened your mouth to sling back a rejoinder to that obscenely leading statement...but Terushima had already turned on his heel and was sauntering down the hall without a backward glance. All you could do was stand rooted in place, cheeks burning as you took a fortifying breath and moved to follow.

This was going to be one hell of a long session, you could already tell.

By the time Terushima had you arranged on the padded recliner, he had already helped shuttle any lingering tension over the edge into professionalism. He made quick, efficient work of prepping the arm you indicated for the new ink -- asking concise follow-up questions about placement, size, and the design inspirations you were aiming to channel with this latest addition to your body art.

For his part, you found the artist hyper-focused and in the zone once preparations were underway. He handled your limb with the utmost care, yet also an understated reverence that spoke to how seriously he took his craft. The bold slashes of colorful imagery covering his own sun-kissed skin served as a living portfolio of his talent, only whetting your anticipation more acutely as he pulled up the digital rendering and reference designs on a mounted tablet.

"Lookin' to weave in some of those natural scenery elements we discussed last time?" Terushima asked in a low, effortless rasp as he scrutinized the design mock-up with a critical eye. "Maybe incorporate some structural geometry from that hiking trail you're so in love with as the framing borderwork?"

His fingers danced across the digital sketchpad, making minute adjustments and allowances to the linework right before your eyes. The deft movements were hypnotizing -- much like watching an artistic savant at their most inspired and open. You hummed an affirmative, finding yourself momentarily distracted by the glide of those long, calloused digits working their magic to translate your vague musings into visual reality.

"If you think it will all tie together into one cohesive statement, I trust your interpretation completely," you managed at last. Flicking a glance up towards Terushima's face, you found his piercing stare locked intently on the developing design rather than meeting yours. The ambient glow of the screens threw mesmerizing shadows across the sharp planes of his features, beautifully sculpted as if an artisan themselves had chiseled every line to classical proportions.

You swallowed hard against a sudden surge of longing completely at odds with the benign circumstances. Ever since meeting Terushima through a mutual friend's referral and sitting for your very first piece, you had felt these increasingly intrusive flashes of appreciation towards the talented artist -- inexplicable yearnings to run curious fingertips across the bold strokes of color and crisp linework decorating his taut skin. To taste the bright zing of his sunny, artful essence against your feverish mouth in moments of inspired abandon...

Ruthlessly, you shoved such wayward thoughts aside with a mental shake. Now wasn't the time for thirst-addled daydreams about Terushima's no-doubt impressive assets...and skill set. Besides, the idea of ever acting on those burgeoning compulsions was utterly laughable. You were a client, period -- and one he obviously had strictly platonic vibes towards if his easy, unaffected demeanor around you was any indication. Still, you couldn't resist sneaking one last sidelong look at the mesmerizing picture he made while completely immersed in the creative process.

Terushima wore the consummate aura of an artistic genius so effortlessly. From the mussed tumble of pale blonde hair to the way his broad shoulders rolled subtly with each sweeping movement, he exuded a quiet intensity that was utterly arresting to behold up close. You felt your heart stutter as the muscles in his arms and chest flexed in fascinating undulations with the motions of sketching -- unconsciously etching themselves into your frantic memory for later, more indecent contemplations.

"There it is," he breathed at last after several long minutes of intent focus. Rising to his feet with an easy, athletic roll of lean hips, Terushima pivoted the mounted tablet towards your awaiting scrutiny. "Pretty neat way to incorporate those natural elements you were going for while keeping it all grounded with some unified geometric rendering, yeah? Those lines should flow perfectly into the top-piece you already have planned out once we finish inking."

You startled slightly at the proximity of his voice. Jerking your gaze away from where it had been tracing the crisp vee of Terushima's slender hips, you blinked owlishly before hurrying to study the design mock-up anew. He was right, of course -- the linework and shading additions he had incorporated into the base design were seamless. As if the original rendering you had fallen in love with online had been elevated into a whole new artistic expression without losing its core essence.

"Shit...that's perfect!" You exhaled at last, tipping your chin up to meet Terushima's illuminated stare with a look of naked appreciation. "I swear you make this seem easy!"

Entirely without conscious volition, you reached out to squeeze Terushima's forearm in a gesture of gratitude and friendly affection. The fevered thrum of his pulse against your fingertips was startling, a visceral reminder of the living canvas you were complimenting. When he flashed you one of those signature toothy grins, nothing but authentic warmth and satisfaction radiating from his features, you very nearly pulled your hand back with equal haste -- worried its lingering presence might broadcast the wrong sort of impression.

But then the moment passed as swiftly as it arose. With a subtle throat clearing, Terushima gave a slight nod and moved to finish setting up his workstation. He tossed over one lean shoulder as he moved with easy grace to prep his tattoo gun. "Should be a real nice tie-in with that upper flourish you already have going by the time we're done inking today..."

The next stretch of time passed in a sort of serene, creative fugue as the familiar buzzing of the tattoo gun filled the small studio space. Terushima was all intense focus and quiet competence once more as he went to work etching the permanent design into your proffered skin. You found yourself mesmerized watching the ink take shape beneath his deft hands -- an appreciation of art unlike any other as he coaxed your body into becoming the living canvas.

Of course, it was difficult not to grow steadily more attuned to Terushima's nearness as the minutes ticked by in heated silence. The man was all lean, honed muscle and clean, sharp lines where you lay soft and pliable beneath his careful attention. At one point you found your gaze tracing the corded sinew in his biceps as they flexed and released with each pass of the tattoo gun. Following the darkly appealing trail of inked patterns swirling up towards the solid juncture of his shoulders and--

You bit back a tiny groan of frustration, realizing you were once again allowing your thoughts to drift in an extremely inappropriate direction. Squeezing your eyes shut, you concentrated on the rasping buzz of the needle caressing your skin rather than let your heightened awareness of Terushima's body linger any longer.

Except...even that was a mistake.

The suddenly sharpened awareness of every subtle scrape and tingling kiss of sensation across your overly sensitized skin made you acutely conscious of where, exactly, the current canvas was being shaped on your body. Terushima was leaning over your inner arm, bent at an intense angle as he filled in the gracefully arcing lines spanning from wrist to elbow joint.

The position placed his face scant inches from the slight swell of your breast as he worked -- near enough that you could actually feel the lightest whispers of his exhales ghosting across the thin cotton covering your chest. Your nipples tightened despite yourself, shocking sparks of arousal lancing straight to your core at the proximity.

Desperately you tried to think unsexy thoughts. Rotted vegetation, unpaid bills, awkward family gatherings...but nothing could dampen the traitorous flush of heat steadily creeping across your nerve endings. Particularly not when Terushima shifted his weight closer to get better traction, practically looming over your upper torso at this point with one knee braced alongside your hip.

The male fibrous notes of his earthy body wash saturated the static-laced air blanketing you both. You breathed in deep, stunned at how quickly the atmosphere in the small studio had taken on such thick, charged undercurrents despite Terushima's complete immersion in his artistry. Each subtle inhalation brought a dizzying new swirl of his natural, masculine scent lacing through your senses...until you felt drugged and heavy-lidded simply from the resonant vibrations of his presence so intimately invading your aura.

Sensation after molten sensation lapped at your subconscious like so many retreating tides. Until at last, you couldn't ignore the heated tide pool gathering at your body's core any longer.

The pointed awareness of your insistent arousal made the heavy air around you both feel thick and charged as ionized smoke. You found your gaze drifting helplessly to the sharp vee of Terushima's sculpted collarbones peeking above the open collar of his shirt. Followed the lean cords of his sinewy throat working in subtle rhythm as he remained focused on his artistry flowing across your skin.

When your heated stare lingered on the captivating sight of his silver tongue piercing dashing across his full lower lip in an subconscious display of concentration, a tremulous sigh escaped your parted mouth. The soft exhalation seemed to reverberate in the tense silence surrounding you both, finally shattering whatever tranquil spell had fallen over the studio.

Terushima went still as death, piercing tawny gaze flickering up to find yours -- pupils already blown wide with unveiled desire. You watched with breathless anticipation as he slowly, deliberately dragged the tip of that tantalizingly studded tongue across his lips once more, maintaining searing eye contact all the while.

"Getting a little hot under the collar there?" he rasped after a protracted, loaded moment. His voice was a sandpaper rasp of pure provocation, sending an involuntary shudder cascading through you.

Despite the heated evidence of your body's pronounced interest in your current intimate position, you managed a shaky semblance of your usual unaffected bravado. "What can I say? All these glimpses of your 'artistry' on display have me...appreciating your full skillset," you husked in return, allowing your eyes to drag a deliberate path down the lean, tattooed canvas of his torso in a shameless ogle.

"Pretty sure that kind of appreciation is gonna cost extra though," Terushima growled in response -- low and full of sensual promise. Before you could formulate a rejoinder, he closed the scant distance between you with one smooth, predatory slide of his weight until you were essentially caged between the hard planes of his body and the unforgiving surface beneath.

Your breath caught in your throat as he braced one forearm alongside your ribcage, effectively trapping you while simultaneously allowing you an unobstructed view of every delicious inch of coiled muscle and colorful ink now on display. The heavy musk of him surrounded you utterly, drenching your senses in potent masculinity until your mouth practically watered from proximity alone.

"I distinctly remember someone being warned about behaving during our sessions," Terushima growled against the shell of your ear, lips brushing fire across your sensitized skin until you shuddered violently. "We might need to have a conversation about adding rush fees to your tab...if you keep squirming around while I'm workin' my magic like this..."

The suggestive undercurrent of meaning laced through every word had your core clenching with thrumming desire. You couldn't bite back the shameless whine that spilled free as the delicious heat of Terushima's body seared through your thin layers, pressing against you with tantalizing friction. Blindly, you reached out to anchor yourself by fisting a hand at the nape of his neck -- relishing the silken slide of short hair around your fingers as you tugged impatiently.

"Maybe I want to misbehave," you whispered without a hint of compunction, already shifting restlessly against the unyielding planes pinning you down. "I'm definitely craving some...overtime benefits to go along with your services."

Terushima let out a dark chuckle of sheer sin against your tingling pulse point. The wet heat of his tongue swept across the same electrified path a split-second later, sending lightning jolts of blistering arousal ricocheting down your nerve endings. You cried out in shameless bliss as his wicked mouth latched onto the sensitive juncture, suckling ardently while one broad palm palmed your ribs before skating sinuously lower...

As his calloused fingertips finally drifted beneath the hem of your shirt to brand searing paths across exposed skin, Terushima broke away with heated labored breaths. You watched him chase the mesmerizing glint of his tongue piercing with a lust-darkened stare, utterly entranced by the lurid promise blazing from every chiseled inch of his features.

"Better be sure you can handle this particular bit of artistry sweetheart," he growled at last, the gravelly burr sending fresh sparks of liquid heat pooling at your apex. "I have a feeling my...techniques are about to get pretty fucking intense before we're through..."

With that salacious warning, Terushima bent his shoulders and descended upon your parted lips in a searing kiss of pure possession. Your mouth welcomed the sensual invasion with a broken cry, arching eagerly to deepen the molten exchange.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth and white-hot desperation -- a tangle of need and lust and sheer intoxicating chemistry. Every slide of his talented tongue stud against the sensitive roof of your mouth sent another gush of molten arousal spilling between your thighs, until you were a writhing, pleading mess of raw sensuality beneath his expert touch.

All the while, Terushima kept up his deft assault on the hyper-sensitive nerves dotting your midsection -- skirting the outer edges of your needy sex but never quite making full contact. Each teasing pass only stoked the inferno roiling within your core until you were nearly ready to beg for more.

At last, when the searing heat at your core had become a raging conflagration, Terushima finally dragged his palm upward. The slow, torturous slide across feverish flesh had you keening into his kiss, desperate for the promise of more. Then his clever fingers were tracing the lace banding your ribcage before finally, blissfully sliding the material upwards and over your breasts.

A throaty growl escaped the artist's mouth as his hands cupped your naked flesh, kneading the tender peaks until you were nearly delirious with want. Breaking the kiss with a ragged curse, Terushima's tawny gaze dropped to rake an unabashedly hungry perusal of the bounty on display.

"Fuck me...you're goddamn perfection," he muttered under his breath, thumbing across the puckered peaks until you shuddered with renewed pleasure. Then he was bending to swirl his tongue around one nipple, drawing it deep into the scalding heat of his mouth to suckle mercilessly.

You writhed and sobbed against the delicious onslaught, hips bucking in restless, frantic search for the friction you needed most. Terushima took the movement as his cue to redouble his efforts, laving attention on first one nipple then the other. His wicked tongue stud grazed each sensitive bud with the most delicious pressure, leaving a wet, cooling trail of saliva in its wake that only served to heighten the throbbing ache between your legs.

By the time Terushima slid a calloused palm beneath the waistband of your jeans, you were already a dripping mess of desperate need. He didn't disappoint -- fingers finding your molten core with practiced ease. The artist hummed his appreciation against your collarbone as he traced your soaked slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on dexterous digits.

"Jesus fucking Christ, look at this sweet cunt just begging for my cock," he groaned, nipping sharply at the underside of your jaw before laving the sting with his tongue. "And all mine...just gotta show you a bit more of my craftsmanship before I really get my fill, yeah?"

"Fuck...fuck...please," you whined, barely aware of the words spilling from your mouth as you writhed mindlessly beneath his relentless, expert touch. The blunt pads of Terushima's fingertips continued to circle your aching clit, alternating featherlight caresses with punishing strokes -- never giving you the leverage you needed to chase the impending release fluttering at the edge of your consciousness.

You were a mess of sensual desperation by the time he finally, mercifully slipped a finger inside your throbbing channel. His name was a breathy chant falling from your lips, a prayer for deliverance from the exquisite torment. Then, just as you felt your climax cresting -- a second finger plunged into the tight, slick sheath.

The sudden, delicious stretch was a shock to your system, forcing a startled gasp from your throat. Before you could catch your breath, Terushima was thrusting those thick, calloused digits with a rough, driving rhythm that had you sobbing and arching from the blinding sensations.

"That's it, give me what I need," he rasped against the shell of your ear. The guttural rasp was so full of pure masculine dominance and primal ownership that it nearly tipped you over the edge. But still, he kept his fingers just shy of hitting the right angle -- holding you right on the precipice until you were a wreck of incoherent babbling and shameless pleas for release.

Then, with one final twist and curl, the dam finally shattered. A scream ripped from your lungs as a wave of blinding ecstasy washed through you. Your core clenched violently around the invading digits, riding each crashing wave as Terushima worked you through the orgasm.

"So fucking beautiful...you have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this," he was saying, the words muffled against your sweat-dampened temple. "You coming undone around my fingers, so hot and wet and eager. Fuck, you're gonna feel so perfect around my cock. Just you wait..."

Terushima didn't stop pumping his fingers through the aftershocks, nor the filthy words dripping from his sinful mouth. Instead, he seemed to sense exactly how close you were to another crest and doubled down -- sliding a third finger into the pulsating grip of your channel. The sudden pressure was overwhelming, almost painful.

It was too much. Not enough. You were flying apart at the seams.

You were barely aware of the keening wail that accompanied the second crest -- a violent crescendo of sensations that left you gasping and limp against the padded chair. By the time your vision cleared, Terushima had pulled away to admire his handiwork. His fingers glistened with your release, and his pupils were blown wide with unmistakable hunger.

"I don't think I'm ever gonna get tired of seeing that look," he breathed after a protracted moment, voice raw with need. "Fuck, it's gonna be hard to walk out of this room right now. Pretty sure that was the hottest shit I've ever seen."

You couldn't find the words to respond, instead simply watching with glassy eyes as he dragged his soaked digits across his lower lip. When the tip of his pierced tongue darted out to lick the wetness clean, the blatant carnality of the gesture had another tremor racing through your limbs.

Terushima seemed to realize just how much he was affecting you -- if the sudden flash of pure lust across his chiseled features was any indication. As his eyes darkened impossibly further, his mouth quirked up into a devilish smirk.

"Y'know, there is something else we could do...to really put those creative juices of mine to work." The tone was a sinful rasp, dripping with sensual promise and wicked intent. It took a moment for the implication to sink in, but then your brain was short-circuiting again with a flood of white-hot arousal.

"You can't be serious," you managed in a broken whisper, unable to tear your gaze from the lewd picture his lips painted. "There's no way that will even fit."

Terushima just shrugged, the motion full of fluid grace as he rose smoothly to his feet. "Worth a shot," he rasped. "And who knows, maybe all the extra lubrication from those two orgasms you just gave me will make it easier..."

You swallowed hard, eyes flitting helplessly towards the very obvious tenting in the front of his pants. As if reading your mind, he made quick work of the zipper and shucked the garment entirely -- standing gloriously naked before you in all his chiseled, inked glory.

"Holy shit..." was all you could manage at the sight of him.

His erection was truly a work of art, in all the best possible ways. Thick and heavy, it curved upward with a slight upward tilt -- the tip already flushed an angry red and glistening with pre-cum. It looked impossibly large from your vantage point, though Terushima was already reaching down to fist the base with a lazy pump.

"Well? You wanna give it a try, or am I gonna have to take care of things myself?" The words were a playful rasp, laced with filthy insinuation and a challenge for you to rise to.

You felt the last vestiges of hesitation crumble away beneath the weight of your desire, giving way to the raw, primal urges screaming at you to throw yourself into Terushima's waiting embrace. In the blink of an eye, you were rising to your feet, stripping away the remaining clothing in a haphazard pile and stepping boldly forward to close the distance between you.

When his lean, tattooed torso collided with yours, the feeling was pure euphoria. Your mouths came together in a messy, passionate clash of tongues and teeth and desperation. Terushima's hands were everywhere, sliding over every curve and dip of your naked form like a man possessed.

Your own eager touch was no less frantic. You were consumed by the need to taste every inch of him, to feel the firm planes of his body pressed against you with delicious friction. As the heated slide of your skin against his became more frenzied, a litany of curses tumbled from Terushima's mouth -- a low, sensual stream of praise that had you nearly sobbing with need.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, but I have to have you. Now," he growled against the shell of your ear, punctuating the statement by fisting a hand in your hair and tugging hard. "Been dying to have you ride my cock, just like this. Need to feel this tight little cunt squeezing the cum out of me."

Before you could fully process the filthy declaration, you were being lifted off the ground. Then your back hit the padded recliner with a jarring impact that made you squeak in surprise. In a heartbeat, Terushima was bracketing your hips with his thighs and bracing both palms on either side of your head -- caging you in with the intoxicating heat of his body.

You whimpered at the heady sensation of him sliding his thick length between your legs, coating himself in your wetness. Then he was lining up at your entrance and pushing inside in a slow, relentless glide that had you arching and sobbing with the delicious pressure.

Terushima's head hung heavy above yours, jaw clenched tight and sweat-dampened strands of blonde hair sticking to his forehead. The corded muscles of his shoulders and neck stood out in sharp relief as he fought for control.

"Fuck me...so goddamn perfect, sweetheart. Gonna ruin me for any other pussy," he ground out. The gravelly rasp sent a fresh gush of liquid arousal spilling around his thick shaft. "Can't wait to feel you cumming all over my cock, milking me dry while I paint that pretty little cunt."

All you could do was whine incoherently in response, the sensation of being so perfectly stretched and full of him making it impossible to form words. It felt like you were being torn apart in the most glorious way possible, the sweetest ache throbbing between your thighs.

When Terushima finally started to move, you thought you might fly apart from the intensity. He pulled out slowly before slamming home in a powerful thrust that had you crying out and clawing at his shoulders. Each successive movement was more forceful than the last, the tempo building into a brutal rhythm that left you breathless and reeling.

Your entire world shrank down to the single point of contact where your bodies moved as one. Terushima was growling unintelligible filth in your ear, telling you how perfect and tight and wet you were, how he couldn't wait to see you come all over his cock. The filthy words stoked the flames of your pleasure, the mounting pressure reaching an impossible pitch.

Just when you thought you couldn't possibly take anymore, Terushima reached down between your sweat-slickened bodies and found your swollen clit. His expert touch was like an electrical current, sending bolts of sizzling pleasure ricocheting through every nerve ending. You felt the dam inside you breaking, the release coming in a violent torrent that had you screaming his name and shaking beneath him.

Terushima was right behind you, groaning and grinding his pelvis against yours as his cock twitched and pulsed. Then he was cumming inside you in thick, hot spurts. His lips were on yours, devouring you in a kiss full of pure primal passion and need. You clung to him with a ferocity that should have alarmed you, but it was impossible to care.

"Fuuuuck...you are everything I dreamed and more," Terushima rasped against the sweat-slicked column of your throat. The words were barely coherent, but they sent a thrill of pleasure and satisfaction rushing through your veins. "

You hummed in agreement, relishing the warm, heavy weight of his body on top of yours. After a moment, he stirred and pressed a lazy, lingering kiss against your mouth.

"Y'know, we still got time before our next appointment...and I'm sure as hell not finished with you yet," he murmured. There was an undercurrent of suggestion in the graveled tone, and the implication was enough to have your core clenching around him.

"Better not be," you shot back, nipping at his bottom lip. "Because we're definitely adding rush fees to that tab."

"Mmmm...you're gonna pay in the best way possible, baby. Trust me."

[ticklefantasynyc]

I remember it was like yesterday but this was from 2017. i was in the gym when i got a message back from this model I reached out to named Joey. I literally drove home hopped in the shower, got my camera and studio equipment and we met at a hotel in the city. Let me tell you, she had to be one of the most ticklish models Ive ever tickled. Literally broke her within the first couple of minutes! She safe-worded and i had to stop. Then we went again lol. This was the beginning where she's laughing uncontrollably at me going crazy in her pits! Under the arms is a death spot for a lot of people and for her it sure was! Soon the laughs turned to screams and I was getting yelled at. She was screaming so loud I thought we were going to get kicked out of the hotel or get the cops called on us 😬 lol. She was so red and on the verge of crying! I honestly wanted to keep going because I'm very sadistic when it comes to tickling but I had to respect her boundaries! That's number 1! I decided to cut the camera off so I can worship her with my mask off since its easier to do that. I keep my identity private for my own videos now after showing my face for so long in other videos. But i may do a face reveal or start showing my face again. Dont mind the face blur. Even though I had a mask I was testing out the face blur for my edits. After I cut the camera off, i decided to kiss, lick, and worship all over her from head to toe focusing my lips and tongue and sucking on each of her tattoos 👅💦 but believe it or not, she was so ticklish she couldn't even take that! So I just gave her a foot massage and we called it a night! This is just one of many times that I severely broke a lee! 😏

[honeekyuu]

squeeze. [sakusa kiyoomi x reader] satin black intros.

place of (homosexual) business

masterlist.

[playlist]. satin black || vibes

a/n. im completely totally normal about this au. completely normal.

warnings: me.

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

satin black moved into its current location about three weeks ago, and theyve tortured brews abridged ever since

they were at a smaller location for 3 years prior, but they outgrew it when each of them independently went a little viral online for their work

everyone has a license to both pierce and tattoo, but iwa/akaashi stick to tattooing and suna sticks to piercing

akaashi’s the only one who went to art school

iwa taught himself on youtube

suna and sakusa taught themselves by practicing on each other – all of suna’s tattoos are by sakusa and all of sakusa’s piercings are by suna exclusively

it went a little like this the first time around: "i can do this. i dont need instructions-" "ARE YOU FUCKING SURE ABOUT THAT!!!!"

akaashi specializes in black and grey tattoos and iwa does color; sakusa does both but prefers black and grey

iwa’s best known for watercolor style art and akaashi’s best known for geometric art 

sakusa’s best known for japanese style art

suna's keeps trying to sell people on new and strange places to get pierced. this is dangerous and sakusa has banned him from doing it 8 times already.

hes actually so good at his job, hes just an idiot

theyre total assholes who chain smoke in the shop and swear at each other from across the room

the shop motto is "make them horny until they come back" and boy does it work

every single one of their clients transferred across the city with them when they moved

sakusa doesn't actually take new clients anymore, he just keeps up with regulars. he's very adamant about this

he is most often found in his office, which is also his private studio

the shop playlist consists of music added by sakusa, suna, and iwa -- they tried to get akaashi in on it but he got apple music just to spite them and wears his headphones when he works

suna can and WILL add the most unhinged shit to the playlist. there is a near-daily incident where sakusa tries to skip past suna's songs but suna keeps going back to them just to be annoying

this results in the shop being filled with the nonstop sound of skipping songs and sakusa screaming at him from his office

iwa usually joins in too because he has a short temper

akaashi always has to put his gun down and dissociate, because he can feel himself about to fuck up his lines with how hard his eye is twitching

akaashi has the least tattoos but that’s really not saying much; they have a board in sakusa’s office with the running count for each of them

everyone who comes in for the first time always sees two tattoo artists: iwa, who sits in the corner chain smoking and frowning and generally looking like he could kill you; and akaashi, who is generally polite and looks way less scary than iwa.

and they always choose akaashi, because he looks nice

he is not fucking nice. he is mean as shit. iwaizumi is the nicest one in that shop.

iwa so often is the type to roughly grumble "oh, yeah we can take a break -- this placement always hurts like a bitch. i need a smoke anyway" (hes already smoking).

akaashi keiji is the type to whisper "oh, did that hurt? pussy." and go in even more.

he is mean as shit and everyone makes this mistake.

sakusa and suna met in high school -- they would skip class together and sit behind the school smoking and blasting bass boosted music

theres something about running from campus security every day that bonds two people into brotherhood

theyre like,,,, fucking carbon copies of each other, these two -- two tall as fuck, tatted up, pierced up dudes with matching judgmental expressions and chipped black nail polish, standing outside the shop smoking, talking shit, and glaring at anyone who comes out of the stupid ass 3-in-1 shop next door

they met iwa and akaashi during their apprenticeship. they really didnt get along at first, but it takes a very unique combination of crazy to be able to open the kind of tattoo shop sakusa wanted.

and he had his combination of crazy right there in front of him.

iwa’s the most normal one and just wants to be akaashi’s friend. thats all he wants. he wants to make his silly little money and be akaashis silly little friend. 

iwa is the only one akaashi trusts for literally anything related to the shop but he wont ever say that

it's so painfully obvious that suna named their group chat. sakusa stopped trying to change it back years ago.

taglist = [open]

@mollyrolls @nectardaddy @onlytendoguesses @scinclaitnoir @marsoverthestars

@bookskeepers @choerry-picking @siheez @introvertsince2003 @eggyrocks

@atrashsith @beckixwsm @kakeru-eem @atsumusc0ck @seroh

@reignsaway @a-little-pebbl @bakingcuriosity @dondoncool @corvid007

@asthmaticcchoeee @liliumaraneae @savemebrazilhinata @whydoyoucare866

she put my hand up on her throat and told me // squeeze that shiiii-

squeeze [ghostemane].

[octuscle]

Makeover

Mortimer not only had a shitty old-fashioned name, he was also simply shitty and old-fashioned. His clothes were actually often inherited from his father and grandfather. His speech was affected. And yet he was nothing but a small and insignificant clerk at the tax office. Totally career-minded. A pedant. A pain in the ass. Like his father. Like his grandfather.

But Mortimer was also a lickspittle and a pussyfoot. He never had the guts to provoke any kind of trouble with big taxpayers. Trouble only meant more work. But with small private individuals and small businesses, he loved to torment them when checking their tax returns. Especially those who didn't have a tax advisor had beads of sweat on their foreheads just holding his letter in their hands. And when they opened it and read it, they turned pale. Mortimer could almost jerk off at the thought. In fact, his little cock got hard at the thought.

The punks from the tattoo parlor were outstanding victims. The tax return was probably largely correct. But it was full of minor formal errors and implausibilities that could have been overlooked. But that was no fun for Mortimer. So he bombarded the owner of the studio with questions and requests to submit additional documents. As I said, the tax authorities would gain no further advantage from this. But Mortimer was able to exercise his little bit of power. But this time he would regret it. Bitterly regret it.

The conversation with his superior had been unpleasant. Pete, the owner of the tattoo studio, had made an official complaint. For arbitrariness, abuse of authority and a few other things. Probably one of the perverts who were his customers was a crooked lawyer, Mortimer thought. He didn't have much to fear from his boss. One crow didn't peck out another crow's eye. Nevertheless, he had been ordered to make a personal appearance at the tattoo parlor to clear up the loose ends. What a humiliation. He would get revenge for that too.

The studio smelled of tobacco smoke, leather, sweat, whiskey and disinfectant. A terrible combination that almost made Mortimer want to vomit. He went through the documents he had in front of him. No chance, everything was correct. Still, there had to be something. And quickly. It was Friday morning, he wanted to have his report written by 2 p.m. at the latest and leave for the weekend. The employees all looked like freaks. He asked Pete for all the employment contracts from the last 20 years. Pete looked at Mortimer… With piercing blue eyes. He took Mortimer's chin very firmly in his tattooed calloused hand, almost stroking Mortimer's face with the other. And then he moved his hand slowly towards his crotch. And then he gripped Mortimer's balls firmly. "Listen, you office boy! Everything is fine here. Got it?" The grip on his balls did not loosen. But his erection became painful. Mortimer nods. The grip loosened. Mortimer packed up his things. At the office, he would report the store to a friend from the health department. Pete had made a big mistake.

It was almost 11:30 when Mortimer arrived at the tax office. Lunchtime. People were running along the corridors and streaming towards the canteen. Mortimer actually wanted to eat straight away. But the call to the health department was more important. He had almost reached his office when his boss stood in his way. "So, all the problems with the tattoo artist sorted?" Mortimer was just about to answer when his boss laughed. "Mortimer, I wouldn't have put it past you. You and a piercing? Did you get that pierced to appease the taxman? Well, because it's Friday. But Monday without it again, please."

Mortimer turned pale. Yes, there had been something on his lower lip. He felt carefully. A cone protruded from his lower lip. One was through his nasal septum. And under the cone was something else under his lower lip. In a panic, Mortimer ran to the washrooms. He looked in the mirror. He looked like a freak! He no longer even noticed that he was unshaven. Mortimer reached for his cell phone and tried to call Pete's tattoo studio. Only an answering machine. Mortimer ran into his office and put on a face mask. He told colleagues who came by that he wasn't feeling well and wanted to protect them. They wished him a speedy recovery. But it didn't get any better. Mortimer nervously drummed his fingers on his desk and wondered what he should do. Then he noticed the tattoos on his knuckles. "Fuck" and "Yeah". In Gothic letters. Mortimer ran back to the washrooms. And threw up.

He didn't actually have to call in sick. He would have finished work in an hour anyway. But he had to get out of here. Immediately. He walked to the bus stop. It was a warm spring day. Nevertheless, Mortimer drove to Oxford Street first thing and bought a pair of gloves in the first store he saw. Should he go to the tattooist? But not now. The streets were full of people. And he looked like a freak. No, off home. And tomorrow at the crack of dawn to see that asshole Pete.

Something was different in his apartment. There was a half-full ashtray on the coffee table. And the fridge was full of beer. Surprisingly, this didn't strike Mortimer as odd at all. He took a beer, lit a cigarette and threw himself onto the sofa. What a terrible day. He began to cry with self-pity. And he fell asleep crying.

It was already dark outside when Mortimer woke up. The beer was warm and stale. But Mortimer finished it. The fag had fallen out of his hand as he fell asleep and had left another burn mark on the shabby old leather sofa. Mortimer burped. He was drunk and stoned. The piercings in his nipples felt good. Mortimer began to wank. He squirted on his Sex Pistol T-shirt. And fell asleep again.

The next morning, Mortimer woke up with an insane hangover. His apartment was a mess. Full ashtrays, empty beer cans, dirty clothes. What the hell had happened here? Mortimer collected the garbage while still half asleep and put the bin bags outside in the hallway. He had to pee. No, he had to piss. He went into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. He ran his tattooed hands through his greasy hair. He urgently needed to go to the hairdresser again. But first he had to piss and then take a shower. He pulled his 20-centimeter cock out of his no longer completely clean underpants. The scrotal ladder clacked as he did so. And the mighty Prince Albert shone in the light of the bathroom lamp. Mortimer felt dizzy.

Yes, the first thing he wanted to do was go and see Pete. But for some reason, his apartment was a mess. Mortimer took a shower first. He had to admit that the feeling of the piercings in his nipples, scrotum and cock was very sensual. But the steel had to come off. And he also had to do something about the tattoos. His fingers and the backs of his hands were covered in tattoos. He hadn't even seen his back and neck yet. When he felt clean again, Mortimer collected the dirty laundry. He made the beds fresh. He wanted to turn on the washing machine. But it was gone. Not just the washing machine, but the whole alcove. His bathroom was somehow smaller. And there was no washing machine or dryer. Mortimer stuffed the washing into an IKEA bag that he didn't know where it had come from. He collected the rest of the garbage. He washed the dirty dishes, because his dishwasher in his much smaller kitchen was also gone. It was almost 4 p.m. when it was finally clean and tidy again. Mortimer was satisfied. All he had been able to find in the way of clean laundry was a shiny red Adidas tracksuit, a pair of white Calvin Klein shorts, a white fine-rib undergarment, white socks and white sneakers. He looked silly. But it should be enough for a visit to the laundrette. He took the dirty laundry and the garbage bags and left the apartment.

The hallway smelled of cold tobacco smoke, beer and piss. The walls were covered in graffiti. From time to time, the roar of violent arguments could be heard from the apartments. Shit, this is a crazy dream, Mortimer thought to himself. This must be a crazy dream. The elevator was broken. So he walked the eight floors to the laundry room. Thank God there was a free machine. Mortimer took a laundry token out of his trouser pocket. He stuffed his dirty laundry into the machine. Damn it, he didn't have any detergent. A skinhead was sitting on one of the rickety plastic chairs under the no-smoking sign, reading a sports magazine and smoking. "Excuse me, could I borrow some washing powder from you?" Mortimer wanted to ask. But he said "Oi, sorry mate, could I nick some washing powder off ya? And a fag while you're at it?" The skinhead looked at Mortimer. He licked his lips. "Got yer tongue pierced too, you dirty pig?" Mortimer stuck out his tongue. And the skinhead took his cock out of his bleached jeans. "Then get on your knees and earn both!"

The skinhead only had a modest PA. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure for Mortimer to work his cheesy boner with his tongue. The skinhead steered his head into his curls with a firm grip. From time to time he pulled Mortimer's head far back into his neck and snotted in his face. Mortimer's cock built a tent in his pants. The skinhead squirted down his throat. Mortimer squirted into his pants. And the washing machine rumbled. ""Oi, cunt, fancy a proper haircut? Can't see any of them sick tattoos on your skull." Mortimer took a quick breath. What was happening here? He was standing in a full-weight tracksuit in the laundry room of a public housing complex, had just swallowed a skinhead's sperm and now wanted to get a haircut from the skinhead? Shit, how had he ended up in this situation? "I'm in 639, got beer and fags. Bring the rest, mate!"

The laundry didn't get really clean in the old washing machines. Mortimer threw everything onto his unmade bed. His apartment was a mess. But it was his home. And he was about to get a free haircut. Mortimer was rolling a cigarette when Liam knocked. He had brought the rest with him. The rest was a long hair clipper, a wet razor, shaving foam. And three buddies who couldn't wait to piss on the freshly shaved bald head.

Monday morning. Pete had asked Mo to take the missing documents to the tax office. Mo had actually worked at the tax office in the past. He knew his way around there. But he had been fired because Pete had allegedly bribed him to be gracious during the tax audit. In return, he had gotten some piercings and tattoos for free. But that was a hell of a long time ago. Now Mo was one of the most talented piercers in town. In the hottest studio in town. Actually, Mo could have afforded something better than the shabby place in the run-down high-rise complex a long time ago. But leaving his mates in the lurch? Not for the life of him!

Hot tf pic by @ki-kink

[nanawritesit]

Stray Kids Tattoo Artist AU Imagines! (fem!reader)

Part Two - (NSFW/ 18+/ MDNI) 🔞

*disclaimer: none of these edits or tattoos are mine, i found them all on pinterest*

TW: inappropriate flirting with/from professional artists (sexual harassment is a real thing kids, respect your artists and they’ll respect you!) partial nudity, consensual touching and groping, them asking you out, praise, suggestive remarks, pet names (honey, sweetheart, angel, love, baby, good girl,) needles, mentions of food (CB,) hand holding (F,) mentions of grief and lost loved ones (I.N)

Bangchan: Chest

You knew Bangchan from a friend of a friend. You had spoken to each other a few times at a couple of parties, and when he told you he was a tattoo artist, you immediately checked out his artwork. He was really good, so after a while you decided to book an appointment and get something you had always wanted: a red rose on your chest.

It was going well so far, you were wearing a strapless bra so the nudity wasn’t an issue, but as he got lower and lower tattooing the stem, you noticed him getting tense and rigid.

“Are you okay, Chan?” you asked him as he was reloading the ink.

He perked up in surprise. “I’m supposed to be the one asking you that.” he chuckled.

“It’s just… you seem nervous.” you remarked, leaning closer to him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not you…” he shook his head frantically, shooting you an apologetic smile. “I just…” He glanced around the room, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “Okay, I’m gonna tell you a secret, but you have to promise not to laugh.” he demanded, eyes locking back in on yours.

You crossed your heart. “I promise.”

He sighed. “Okay. You’re the first girl I’ve ever tattooed.”

You did as you promised and didn’t laugh, but your mouth did fall open a bit in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, chuckling uncomfortably. “Yeah… We don’t get a lot of pretty girls in here. It’s mostly bikers, gym bros, and playboys.”

You blushed, smirking slightly. “You think I’m pretty?”

His eyes widened. “I mean… yeah? You’re gorgeous, which makes me even more nervous. And the fact that your tattoo is in the… you know, cleavage area, it’s just… a bit hard to relax I suppose. I’m sorry, this is so unprofessional of me.”

“No, it’s okay, I understand…” you reassured him. “Are you… unsure of where to put your hands?”

His eyes shifted in hesitation, then looked you in the eye once again. He nodded meekly.

“Here…” you suggested, reaching for his left wrist. You placed his hand along your breast, allowing him to touch it. “You can grip onto it, it’s okay.”

He gulped, then did as you asked. He winced, then reached for his tattoo gun with his dominant hand. “Okay, thank you. I feel a lot better now.” he lied through his teeth. Here you were allowing him to touch such a private area out of kindness for his artistry, and yet it only made him more nervous. He supposed it was because he had harbored such a massive crush on you since the day he met you, and when you approached him for a tattoo, it made his heart stop. But he shouldn’t have been bringing those feelings into his tattoo studio. This was his job, he told himself.

“Hey, Chan…” you interrupted his thoughts, placing your fingers delicately along his jaw. He looked up at you, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. You smiled warmly at him. “I asked you to do my tattoo because you’re really talented, I trust you, and I really like you. You don’t have to be nervous.”

He grinned appreciatively. Hearing you say that did calm him down a bit, and gave him the confidence to continue. “Thank you, Y/N. Alright, let’s finish this rose. It’s going to look so good on you.”

He didn’t know how he was going to contain himself after this, seeing you walk around with his art on your chest that he put there himself. He was going to have to muster up the courage to ask you out before someone else did. But for right now, all he was focused on was giving you the best tattoo he’d ever done.

Lee Know: Collarbone

He slid your sweater down to look over your collarbone, grinning approvingly as he took it in. “Oh yeah, this vine is going to look so sick.”

You giggled, finding yourself attracted to his confidence. Something about a man who took pride in his craft just drove you wild. Almost wild enough to forget how nervous you were.

He seemed to notice your uneasiness, backing away a bit. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just a bit anxious…” you explained, brushing some of your hair behind your ear.

“Why are you anxious? It’s just a tattoo.” he chuckled.

“Well, that’s easy for you to say.” you laughed, gesturing to his tattoos. He had one along his neck and another along his left hand trailing up his wrist. They were beautiful, and you wondered how much they had hurt.

“Oh, I get it…” he concluded, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back with a smirk. “This is your first tattoo, isn’t it?”

Your eyes widened in shock. “How did you..?”

“You just have ‘the look.’ Everyone getting their first tattoo has a certain look to them.” he explained nonchalantly. “But sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about. It’s gonna hurt a bit, but I’m sure you’ll be okay. You seem pretty tough.”

You grinned at his compliment, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit. “I do?”

He nodded in confirmation. “Of course you do. And even if you can’t take it, we can stop whenever you want. There’s no shame in it.”

You smiled at his reassurance, gaining a sudden determination. “Alright, let’s do this!”

“Atta girl…” he praised, patting your knee encouragingly. “Okay, let’s get started…”

Changbin: Back

You laid out on your stomach, completely topless save for the pasties over your nipples. He had given you the option to just unclip your bra, but you wanted him to have as much space to work with as he needed.

He rolled his chair over to you and began prepping his tools. “Alright honey, this is gonna take about five hours. You sure you’re up for this?”

You smirked at him over your shoulder. “I can handle it.”

He grinned approvingly. “That’s what I like to hear. Alright, let’s get started.”

The outline was a little painful, but it was honestly quite an interesting sensation. It actually felt kind of good, pumping up your adrenaline as he drug the needle along your skin.

He placed a hand delicately on your shoulder. “How’s that feeling so far? You need a break?”

You shook your head with a chuckle. “No, I’m actually feeling pretty good. Is that weird?”

He laughed lightheartedly, continuing on with his work. “No, not at all. I feel the same way about tattoos. Maybe… you just kind of like pain? Have you ever thought about that?”

You gulped, trying to contain yourself. Something about your hunky tattoo artist asking you if you liked the pain he was inflicting on you made you flustered.

You laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know, maybe? I guess I just have a pretty good tolerance.”

“You do. You’re doing such a good job. I’m proud of you.” he smiled, running a hand along the curve of your spine. “Forgive me if this sounds inappropriate, but you have a really nice back. These wings are going to suit you so well.”

You grinned, feeling your cheeks heat up at his compliment and praise. “Thank you… I can’t decide if they look more like angel wings or fairy wings.”

“Either way, they’re beautiful. After all, I designed them.” he chuckled cockily. “Say, um… you’re going to need a pretty big meal after this, and it’ll be around dinner time when we get done… Do you maybe wanna get some food together? There’s a really good chicken place down the street, I’d love to take you there.”

You looked over at him affectionately. “Yeah, I’d like that. Are you sure you wanna spend that much time with me?”

“Of course. I’m all yours for the night, angel.”

Hyunjin: Hip

When your artist walked out into the waiting area to come greet you with a cute smile, you seriously questioned that he was it. He looked much too angelic and sweet to be a tattooist. But when you got into his studio, he took off his flannel and tied it around his waist, revealing a sick arm sleeve that went up his neck.

“Wow…” you marveled, forgetting yourself for a moment.

He smirked, glancing over at you in the chair. “Pardon?”

You shook your head, grounding yourself once again. “Sorry, I meant… I really like your tattoos.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate that.” he grinned, getting his tools ready. “I designed the sleeve myself and had a colleague tattoo it for me. I’m really happy with it.” He walked over to his table and picked up the print, bringing it over to you. “Are you happy with your design? We can tweak a few things if you like.”

You looked it over, then shook your head with an approving smile. “No, it’s perfect. You did a great job.”

“Awh, I haven’t even done the tattoo yet, and you’re already praising me…” he chuckled, sitting down in his chair in front of you. He suddenly placed his hands on your thighs. “Alright, first things first, these cute little shorts are gonna have to come off.”

Your eyes widened. “Like, all the way?”

He laughed at your nervousness. “Well, I don’t want you to have to hike them up the whole time, and I’m not going to be able to hold them either.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair. “Okay…”

“Hey, don’t be shy…” he reassured you with a warm smile, patting your knee. “Tattoos are always an intimate process no matter where they are. Trust me, I’ve tattooed people in much weirder places. You have nothing to worry about.”

You grinned appreciatively. Knowing that he wasn’t uncomfortable with it at all made you feel a bit better. “Okay, can you just… turn around for a second?”

“Of course. Let me know when you’re ready.” he replied, turning back to his table.

You then removed your shorts and sat back down in your chair. “Alright, I’m good.”

He turned back to you, his eyes not lingering any longer than they needed to. He was completely focused on the task at hand, which you somehow found even more attractive than if he was gawking at you.

“Okay, let’s lean your chair back…” he suggested, placing a hand over your décolletage to steady you as he adjusted the chair. You held your breath at the sudden contact, feeling your heartbeat quicken. Were you really developing a crush on your tattoo artist?

“Okay, do you trust me?” he asked, suddenly leaning into your face with such intensity that it made you freeze. God, he was so beautiful, his features looked like they were sculpted out of marble.

You nodded with a tiny grin. “I trust you.” Damn, this was going to be a long session…

Han: Thigh

You tapped your heels on the floor anxiously. Han Jisung was one of the best tattoo artists in the area, and you had somehow managed to book an appointment with him. Luckily your best friend Chan had connections, but you had never met him in real life, or even seen a picture of him. You followed him on instagram, but he only ever posted about tattoos or his artwork.

Suddenly, the curtains opened, and a handsome man with blonde hair, piercings, and a neck tattoo walked in. “Y/N?” he asked, pointing to you with a grin.

“That’s me. Are you…?” you asked, pointing back at him.

“Han Jisung.” he answered you, extending his hand for you to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, I’m a huge fan of your work!” you giggled, feeling yourself getting flustered. “I still can’t believe I got a session with you.”

“Awh thank you, I appreciate anyone who likes my art.” he smiled cutely, brushing some of his hair back nervously. You couldn’t believe how adorable he was. You were expecting some huge, burly guy with a scary face and scars all over his body. He also seemed very humble, not at all aware that he was one of the most in-demand tattooists in the city. “Chan said you were a good friend of his, and I owed him a favor anyway, so I’m happy I can do this for you.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know he knew you… he said you guys went to art school together?” you inquired, compelled to find out more about this mystery artist in front of you.

He chuckled, walking over to his table. “Yeah, we go way back. Actually, the design I pulled for you was one I did back when I was in school.” He sifted through some papers, then pulled out the print, brandishing it to you. “What do you think?”

You stared blankly at it, mouth agape. “Oh my god, it’s perfect! You did this in school?”

He laughed at your praise, and you swore you saw his cheeks tinge a shade of light pink. “Yeah, I did… You said you wanted something delicate and natural, but a little sexy. Does this fill all the requirements?”

“Um, yeah?” you replied, questioning why he even needed to ask that. “It’s amazing, Han. Can I call you that?”

“You can call me whatever you want, whenever you want.” he grinned flirtatiously. He then shook his head at himself in disbelief. “Sorry, that was so cheesy...”

“Are you flirting with me?” you teased, crossing your arms with a smirk.

“No, of course not, that would be inappropriate…” he laughed anxiously, rolling his chair up in front of you. “Now, can I map out where you want it?” He was clearly desperate to change the subject.

Although you enjoyed flustering him, you were here for a reason. You nodded, leaning back to give him space.

He placed a hand delicately along your bare thigh, hiking up your shorts a bit. He ran his fingers along the smooth skin, mapping out the placement with his fingers. He suddenly groped the soft flesh, looking up at you intensely. “Is right here okay?”

Now it was your turn to get flustered. “Yeah, that’s good…”

He smirked, rolling back over to his tool cart. “Alright Y/N, let’s give you this delicately sexy tattoo.” This was clearly going to be a challenge as to who could tease the other the most, and you were totally up for it.

You smiled mischievously to yourself. Game on, Han Jisung.

Felix: Hand

Even with all his dark tattoos, Felix looked way too cute to be a tattoo artist. You had seen his freckled face on instagram, but part of you always questioned whether or not that was really him. But now, he was standing right in front of you, and you couldn’t deny how beautiful he was in real life. He somehow looked even more unreal in person.

“Okay Y/N, can I see your hand?” he asked, reaching out for it.

Your eyes widened. “Hm?”

“For the print, love.” he giggled at your shock.

“Oh, yeah…” you remembered the plot, placing your hand softly in his. He studied it, tracing the pads of his fingers along the curves of your knuckles and wrist before placing the print overtop of them.

He adjusted the edges and then peeled off the backing. “Do you like that?”

“What?” you asked, previously being lost in a trance from the feeling of your hand in his.

“Do you like this placement?” he chuckled patiently. He was seemingly very amused at your wandering mind.

You nodded frantically, laughing at yourself anxiously. “Yeah it looks good.” Get it together, Y/N… you thought to yourself.

“Good...” he grinned, leaning forward to look you in the eyes. “Now, the hands are very sensitive, see?” He began running his thumb along the back of it, then holding it up and running his fingers along the palm. “You can feel every touch.” He squeezed your hand tightly, making your cheeks heat up. “Do you want to hold onto my shoulder with your other hand while I do this?”

“Y-yes… That would be nice…” you stuttered out, slowly reaching forward. You lightly placed your hand on his tattooed shoulder, glancing over the artwork. “You have really nice shoulders… I mean, tattoos…”

His nose scrunched up as he smiled at you once again, glad that he was flustering you so much. You were so adorable to him, he couldn’t help teasing you. “Thank you, love. Don’t be afraid to squeeze, I promise you won’t hurt me. I can take a lot of pain.”

You could’ve sworn he winked as he said that, but you were quickly distracted by the hum of his tattoo gun. You instinctively gripped onto his shoulder, prompting him to look you in the eyes once again. “Are you ready for me?”

You gulped, suddenly so aware of how intimate of a position you were in. You had gotten several tattoos before, there was no reason for you to feel as nervous as you were. Felix was single-handedly the most bold tattoo artist you’d ever had, not to mention the most good-looking. God, he was going to be the death of you. “Yes, I’m ready for you, Felix.”

He smirked, eyes narrowing and darkening in approval. “Alright, let’s go then.”

Seungmin: Ribcage

Your breath hitched in your throat as your tall, inked up artist walked back into the room. Clad in a v-neck shirt, his shoulder tattoos were on full display, as well as the one down his temple. This man clearly had a high tolerance for pain, which only made you more attracted to him. How the hell were going to get through this appointment with him?

“Alright, I’ve got the prints right here…” he explained, setting them down on the table. “Can you stand up for me?”

You nodded, quickly rising up as he had asked.

“Wow, obedient…” he chuckled, making you swallow hard. He placed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you forward slightly. He ghosted his hand over the hem of your crop top. “Can I…?”

“Yeah, go right ahead.” you grinned, relaxing in his hold.

He glanced over your shoulder as he lifted your shirt up to reveal your ribcage, still covering your nipple with the shirt. He brought his free hand around to run his fingers along the space under your breast. “So you’re thinking right here?”

You made eye contact with him though the mirror in front of you. “Yeah, and kind of wrapping around the breast… Do you think that’ll look good?”

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna look super hot.” he smiled, releasing your shirt and patting your shoulders encouragingly. He went back over to his table, giving you a moment to release the breath you were holding in. “I designed this to fit your body perfectly, and you have a great figure for it.”

“Really?” you asked, sitting back down in your chair and gripping onto the seat for stability. You didn’t know if you could handle any more praise from him.

“Yeah, your curves are going to make it stand out even more.” he complimented. “Here, see how mine curves around my shoulder?” He suddenly pulled his shirt down to reveal the tattooed area, making you gulp slightly.

You nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I see…”

He smirked at your embarrassment, then went back to getting his tools ready. “It’s like that. Okay, do you wanna put on some pasties?”

You nodded, taking them from him. He turned around to give you some privacy, not expecting you to have casually stripped off your entire shirt like it was nothing once you told him you had them on.

“Dang, you’re bold…” he marveled, grinning approvingly. “I like that.”

You smiled back at him, leaning back in your chair. “Well, we might as well get it out of the way now. We’re going to be spending the next two hours together with me being topless, aren’t we?”

He chuckled, finding your sudden confidence extremely attractive. “That’s true. Let’s get this pretty little rib tattooed, shall we?”

I.N: Behind the Ear

“That’s it, that’s a good girl…” Jeongin praised you, his hand delicately placed along the side of your neck.

You hissed as you laid on your side, the final white ink touches being the most painful. However, his encouragement felt so good it helped to distract you from the pain.

“And, just like that, we’re done!” he congratulated you, rubbing your hip to signal for you to get up. “You did such a good job, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Jeongin…” you sighed, laughing at the sting behind your ear. “I know it was small, but god that white hurt…”

“Oh yeah, white’s never fun. My left sleeve has a lot in it, and I had already been in the chair for like eight hours beforehand, so I just powered through and told them to get it over with. Worst decision of my life.” he chuckled to himself as he remembered, looking back up at you. “Can I ask… why did you get the butterflies?”

“I know it’s not the most original idea, or the most interesting choice to someone like you …” you began, gesturing to the detailed sleeves he had on both of his arms. “But I actually lost two of my friends last year, and I wanted to get these to feel like they’re watching over me.”

He smiled affectionately at your confession. “No, I would never judge anyone’s tattoo choice. It’s so personal, the only people who really judge what people get anymore are older artists and their ‘pick me’ wives.”

You laughed at his joke, hitting him on the arm playfully. “You really don’t think it’s too basic?”

He shook his head. “I think tattoos can be as meaningful or a meaningless as you want them to be. I’ve given deep tattoos, and silly ones, and they’re both really cool. I’m just glad I can provide this service to you.” He smiled adorably, his eyes wrinkling up at the corners.

“Thank you, Jeongin, I really love them…” you grinned, touching the red area behind your ear.

“It was my pleasure.” he grinned, looking a little disappointed that your time together was over. “Hey, are you doing anything after this?”

“Nope, this was pretty much my last commitment of the day.” you chuckled, grabbing your bag as you got ready to leave. “Why?”

“Well, it’s just…” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing to the floor nervously. “I was wondering if you might want to get some coffee together? I think you’re really cool and interesting, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

You smiled so wide you thought your face would break. “I would love to. Let’s go.”

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS ⏤LOVE EYES

SUM. : you don't see it but the boys have love eyes for you

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; oblivious, innocent reader ; love eyes marauders ; sirius is a womanizer ; he doesn't care to notice though ; snack runs with sirius on his motorbike ; shoulder massages for remus ; james loves picking you up ; james is so silly ; domestic baking with james ; wolfstar moment ; lots of hugging

LENGTH : 2.7k

Sirius watches lovingly as you balance your laptop on your thighs and work through an essay you had to complete by the following week. When you had time away from final year lectures, seminars and practicals, you would usually occupy the private office and lounge room of the studio’s top floor in order to work through your uni assignments. The university libraries were quite suffocating in that they pressured you into unhealthy productivity mindsets, which often lead to unhealthy eating habits and a shortcut to burn out. However, you had found solace in the calm of the tattoo studio’s office that usually remained empty throughout the day when the boys were attending to clients. The calm silence was welcome and helped with your personal productivity and pacing of assigned workload. 

Usually, Remus would accompany you, doing mundane admin tasks that helped manage the parlour and its clients but he had to leave as he had several appointments today. You’ve made some decent headway with the essay in Remus’s absence and you were using some of the momentum to get even more ahead when you felt a familiar presence take a seat beside you before throwing their arm over your shoulders. 

“Hello, dollface,” Sirius whispers and presses a gentle kiss against your temple. 

“Hey Siri,” you acknowledge him with a sweet smile and tilt your head against him briefly before continuing with your essay. Focused with your brows furrowed and gently gnawing at your lip, Sirius silently admires your concentration; it looks good on you, a meritorious contrast to your usually soft features and expressions.

However, as much as he loves this side of you, he loves your attention more, “...are you really gonna just ignore me?” he whines in his usual playful manner, prompting you to roll your eyes. 

“Sirius, I have to finish this essay—”

“Not until the following week, so you have time right?” you don’t answer him. He was right but you still needed to work on the essay. Grumbling under his breath, Sirius leans his weight against you and sighs and huffs and whines in between minutes of silence. Even though this type of selfish distraction would typically irritate you, you know that you could afford stepping away from the essay so it was more than entertaining to hear his fussing. You also thoroughly enjoyed Sirius’s floundering and adorable attempts to guilt you into paying him some attention; it was almost adorable, like a puppy wanting attention. 

It wasn’t until Sirius gave a significantly frustrated whine that you exaggerated a sigh and saved your progress to close your laptop screen, “...I’m all yours, Sirius,” you finally conceded, reaching a hand up to lift his hair out of his face. 

With a wide grin, Sirius leans his forehead against yours, his eyes sparkling with content and satisfaction at having finally won you over, “Snack run?” at his suggestion, you almost jump out of your chair in excitement. 

“Yes please!” 

With perked ears, Remus and James smile to themselves at the sound of you and Sirius giggling down the hallway and outside to the leather-wearing tattoo artist’s motorbike. They knew you both made a ritual of going on snack runs for them and, although they appreciated the snacks, they adored your happy laughter echoing in the halls much more.

As Sirius helped gear the two of you up with a helmet for the ride, he whispered his usual promise of taking a longer route than needed to get to the store all while you spotted a group of girls eyeing him up from behind. They looked to be in high school and weren’t subtle about their puppy love for Sirius at all, ogling him with lovestruck doe eyes, whispering amongst themselves and playfully hitting each other’s shoulders over their musings. You couldn’t blame them for their admiration, simply because Sirius was very physically attractive, with his inked skin, sharp features, steel grey eyes, sultry hair, seductive smile, toned physique and nefarious leather fashion—the man embodied an elegant but evil beauty. And, when you got to know him, he became all the more attractive; he was just the perfect amount of chaos and sensual audacity to pair with the softest heart —a dream come true for girls, especially those in their high school years.

Nevertheless, their giggling and kittenish gossiping were like nails on a chalkboard to you, although, that may just be the excuse you came up with for what you were about to do next.

“Woah!” Sirius chuckles, his arms going up as you suddenly wrap your arms around his waist and hold him close, smiling smuggling into his white vest when the group of girls immediately silence their gossiping and giggling at the sight, “what’s wrong, dollface?” Sirius asks dotingly as he lifts your gaze up with a finger under your chin and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, “feeling needy are we?” you pout at his teasing, which he laughs at and finally wraps his arms around your shoulders. One hand holds the back of your head and gently presses your face further into his chest, “anything you need, dollface… anything at all, I’ve got you,” he whispers and pulls away to stare fondly into your pretty eyes. You realise that, not once has he noticed the group of high school girls behind him, in spite of all their gossip and ogling. 

“Siri-”

“Such a pretty face,” he coos, lifting a hand to tenderly cup your jaw, “pretty eyes, pretty nose, pretty lips, pretty heart, pretty everything,” just so pretty… sirius completes in his head, resisting the urge to give into his desires and take from you something he knows isn’t meant for him but desperately wishes was his…

His stare lingers on your lips long enough for you to notice but not enough for you to verbalise as the leather-clad tattooist quickly places the spare helmet over your head. 

Remus groans gratefully as he tilts his head back with closed eyes, smiling at the giggle you emit, “That’s just what I need, dove,”

The tall brunette feels your gentle lips against his forehead for a brief moment and sighs pleasantly once more, “you need to better your posture when sitting Remmy,” you softly scold, continuing to massage his tense shoulders and the back of his neck as he slowly opens his eyes to admire you.

Ignoring your reproach, Remus loses himself in the feeling of relief easing into his tense shoulders and stiff neck through your pressing fingers and palms, “heavenly…” he utters in bliss. 

“Don’t ignore me, Remus,” your tone is a little more stern but rather than make him nervous, Remus continues to smile at you. 

“I assure you…” Remus turns his head and presses a kiss against the skin of your wrist, “that I never and will never ignore you, sweetheart,” his words and the look he gives you makes a heat crawl up your neck and spread across your cheeks. 

“Then tell me you’ll aim for better posture when sitting for too long,” at your request, Remus spins in his chain and pulls you close by the hips. His head is at level with your xiphoid process as he looks up at you with a relaxed smile. 

“You have my word,” he brings your hands from his shoulders, holds them together and kisses the knuckles that touch. Almost instinctively, you move your soft hand to hold his face and smile down at him from where you stood. 

It’s a promise he keeps as you often find him squaring his shoulders and straightening his back when sitting in the office too long. It makes your heart flutter to know that he was proactive with your advice but his shoulder massages didn’t stop, which he appreciated greatly. He never said thank you but he always kissed your hands, wrists and knuckles during or after you ease some of the tension off his shoulders and neck. 

“You truly are an angel,” Remus said one day as he buries his face into your stomach, arms wrapped around your hips as you softly squeeze at his shoulders, “James was right,” he chuckles under his breath which you join him with in a brief but twinkling giggle, “are you truly not hiding a pair of wings, dove?” 

“Nope~” you chirp with another giggle as he leisurely stands, pushing his chair away with the backs of his knees. Remus keeps you close, holds you closer even, and sighs into the crown of your head. 

“Lies…” you feel his big hands move up your back slowly, pressing his fingers into your taut muscles and arched spine as if to return the favour you’ve done for his rigid shoulders. Unable to help yourself, a soft sigh escapes you and you fall further into his embrace, “that…or you’re really good at hiding your wings —i feel nothing there,” with one final knead of his strong fingertips, he winks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, similar to the kind you often find in Sirius’s grey pools and James’s hazel jewels. Though different, they were all the same in other ways. 

“I guess you’ll never know,” was your impish reply not registering how Remus’s expression subtly softens into adoring fondness when continuing to stare down at you. 

It’s like she belongs there… Remus thinks to himself, playing with the ends of your hair while you turn your head to rest your cheek on his chest for comfort, perfectly suited to be in my arms.

“There you are!” James cheers with a laugh as you squeal in surprise. Not only did he sneak up on you but he had effortlessly lifted you into the air by your waist, a merit to his muscular physique.  

“James!” you laugh, hands on his broad shoulders as he spins you around, “Put me down!” grinning widely still, he carefully lowers you, grinning wider when your face gets closer and he can press a kiss to your cheek upon finally setting you down. 

“I have everything already, angel, ready to go?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” he links your arms together and leads the way to his and the boys' flat as you try to hold in your eagerness and nerves. 

The flat the boys share is more spacious than you expected, cleaner too, which you suspect is primarily because of Remus. You were shocked to find, however, that Sirius tended to be the clean freak out of the three. 

“I just grew up with clean habits, I guess,” Sirius quickly shrugs off your questioning eyes before ushering you into the kitchen where James was helpfully laying out all the ingredients the two of you needed in order to bake some fruit tarts together. 

“We’ll be in the living room if you need us,” Remus offers with a cordial smile. In his hand is a rather small book, though you’d guess it’s because his hands were so big that the book just looked petite. The pages appeared relatively worn, as if he had flitted through their pages multiple times already despite his pointer finger marking the page he was at being quite early on in the book. 

“With James in the kitchen you may be needing our help sooner rather than later—“ Sirius begins to chuckle but is forced out of the kitchen when James throws a rolled up kitchen towel at him. This makes you giggle as Sirius gives a shout of mock pain and makes his way into the living room with a journal full of sketches in one hand and a pen in the other.

“Right! Let’s get baking Jamie!” You chirp, missing the adoring eyes James looks onto you with, loving the nickname you call him by. Before the two of you get started, James helps tie up the back of your apron as well as your hair. Upon doing so, you do the same thing for him and he makes a show of asking you to tie up his hair for him despite its relatively short length. Even so, James got to work with a scrunchie holding up a small, short tuffet of hair —it made you giggle multiple times but James would just flutter his lashes at you comically and make you laugh even more. 

Regardless of the occasional shenanigans James pulled, the activity was very domestic and made your heart flutter in your chest, not realising that James was experiencing the same sensations ten-fold. 

Everything begins well enough with James obediently following your instructions, helpfully preparing the dough before moving onto the pastry cream. It was when you had to prepare the summer fruits while blind baking the pie crust and chilling the pastry cream that things became a little more chaotic. James had innocently offered you a slice of a strawberry and enjoyed your elated reaction so much that he started feeding you an entire array of fruits. Fearful that there won’t be anymore fruit for the tart, you begin to pull away from James’s kind offerings. 

“Come on, princess,” James pleads with you, offering up a small slice of mango, “one more, you look so cute when you chew your food,” he coos adoringly as you bring your hands up to cover your cheeks and pout at him. 

“James you better not—“ 

“You’re like a baby chipmunk!” He offers the mango once more but you quickly run away, which initiates a playful chase around the kitchen island. A mischievous look is sparked in James’s eyes as he laughs at your feeble attempt at running away from him. He plays easy with you, however; he doesn’t want the game to end too soon.

“James is at it again…” Remus chuckles and sets his book aside to sink back into the sofa, smiling at your squeals of fun from the kitchen.

“Trying to read was a lost cause, Moony,” Sirius laughs to himself, a warmth blossoming in his chest at the sound of your joyful activities. Nevertheless, he continues to sketch in his journal of potential tattoo compositions for a client, “we both knew this would happen,” 

“Which is why,” Remus stresses, “I chose a book I’ve read multiple times already,” 

Sirius looks up with a smirk, “always such a smartass,”

“You love this smartass,” Remus shoots and leans over to kiss the tattoo artist sweetly with light fingers lifting his chin up. 

“I’m not denying that…” Sirius answers with a smirk before realising that the noise had significantly died down in the kitchen. They didn’t have to wait long until it began once again, however. 

“James stop!” You squeal in delight and laugh airily. 

James swings you around and places you on the kitchen island, not too far away from where the pie crust was cooling off on a drying rack. Standing between your thighs, he holds you in an embrace and laughs into your shoulder, “I caught you, love,” 

“You have an unfair advantage,” you huff with a pout that doesn’t linger for very long when you lean back to adjust James’s glasses with a soft smile. Loving the gesture, James squeezes his arms around you and a dopey grin stretches across his face. He’s the image of bliss and summer fun. 

“Not true…deep down, it’s you who has an unfair advantage over me,” and on Sirius and Remus too James was tempted to add but neglects to when he is overcome with the urge to kiss your cheek at the sight of your loveliness, head slightly tilted, lips adorning the sweetest smile and eyes alight with boundless mirth. 

As the three admire you from their seats on the sofas, they share a similar look. All smiling with a hidden secret as their eyes twinkle with agreement. Many times they’ve discussed their relationship with you, knowing full well that they wanted the same thing and that there wasn’t a chance on earth they’d let you go without a fight. 

It’s too cruel to have met a sweetheart like you only to have you drift away so easily. You bring about a softness in them that is typically hidden away, masked by their inked skin and piercings. You are a missing piece and an essential cog in their system that they can no longer live without. 

“Tea’s ready!” you call and turn to them with a tray loaded with mugs of the steaming beverage accompanied by biscuits and cookies. Their gaze isn’t on the tea, however, it’s on you. And their eyes are flooded by a feeling that can only be love. 

A/N : i have several requests for this au but i need to do a little build up on the storyline first, hopefully my lovely requesters don't mind the wait and that this can satisfy you for now (┳Д┳)

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @justkiyomi @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @ghostgardn @mess-is-my-aesthetic

[pillow-anime-talk]

12 fluff promt for uta plz

# tags: scenario; current relationship; soulmate!au (tattoos); light romance; fluff; couple goals; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. uta {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hope u like it :) have a nice day/night!

12. “But we are not married.” “Then marry me.”

Punk music played at medium volume and spread throughout the building, and you jiggled your right foot to it while keeping your both eyes on the colorful magazine in your hands. From time to time you also glanced at your boyfriend, Uta, who was a few meters away from you, tattooing another client who wanted a huge red dragon across the entire width and length of his back. His concentration was really intriguing, and not even your warm gaze could snap him out of trance.

That’s why, after a few tries, you focused entirely on the thick periodical, reading about the biggest fashion bloopers of this month and dozens of romances in the world of showbiz stars.

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

After another three hours, Uta finished part of the tattoo and thanked his male client for staying in the uncomfortable position for that time. Together with a middle-aged man who had a black beard and dark eyes, they agreed on the last meeting, and thus the last part of the beautiful painting that was to appear on the right shoulder blade. They shook hands, wished each other a nice evening, and then Uta closed the front door to his small tattoo studio, which he had been running for years on his own with no other employees. He turned off all the lights, then returned to a room decorated with a tattoo table, several cabinets, special equipment and a trash bin.

There was also a small, dirty-green leather couch and a table with a glass surface. There was you on the sofa, clutching a magazine in your hands, though your eyes were squeezed tight and your mouth slightly open. The calm face and light movements of the chest spoke loudly about the fact that somewhere in the middle of Uta’s work you fell asleep, and the only thing that appeared in your sleepy thoughts was the desire to drink a cup of coffee without milk and sugar.

For a brief moment, Uta didn’t have the heart to wake you up because he knew your life had been quite stressful in recent days and you had a lot of responsibilities in your private life, but at the same time, he didn’t want your head to hurt after this short nap, or worse, your back and neck.

Before waking you up, however, he glanced at one of the hands that was touching the paper and smiled at the small tattoo adorning your little finger. The drawing showed a full moon; light streaks and lines were made with the utmost precision – the tattoo looked like a real moon that can be found in the sky. After briefly glancing at your finger, he looked automatically at his own left hand and the left corner of his mouth twitched. On his pinky there was a drawing of the same size – the only difference was that there was a tiny sun on his pale skin.

He sighed though, touching your soft cheek covered with gold highlighter.

“... Mgmhm...” You muttered something unintelligible under your breath, which made the man laugh again. “Uta... It’s your turn to... Y-You have to take our kids to school... Mhm...” You said a little more clearly, though your voice was still quiet, muffled by yawns and the desire to stay asleep. It was, after all, close to eleven in the evening.

“Kids?” He raised an eyebrow and the silver earring a bit up. “But we are not married.” He added directly into your ear, and you wiggled your nose, keeping your eyes shut.

“Then marry me.”

Surely you dreamed something nice – there was a slight smile and a huge blush on your face. Uta gave up and decided not to wake you up. Instead, he lifted your body off the couch with no problem. He had placed the magazine on a glass table a moment earlier, next to a small candlestick and a vase of dead roses.

You were already soulmates, and that meant the bonds of marriage. Nevertheless, the vision of you two with a bunch of children and then grandchildren, although too beautiful, did not have to be unattainable.

[itspeachyp0p]

The brainrot I have for tattoo artist! Eren is unreal

Notes. Gender neutral! Reader, suggestive, light smut, MDNI.

Tattoo artist! Eren who keeps a sketchbook, pencils and pens on hand for when he gets a new design idea. He gets inspiration everywhere and has versatile style.

Tattoo artist! Eren who’s wall is covered in the most badass designs mixed with cute ones like Sanrio or Studio Ghibli. If past clients let him he keeps copies of the art to hang up.

Tattoo artist! Eren who has a few old stick and poke tatts littering his skin mixed with the professionally done ones on his arms and right calf.

Tattoo artist! Eren who used to practice doing tattoos on Mikasa and maybe two on Armin before he chickened out. He purposely did a shitty one on Jean after the two had some stupid argument over if the tats Eren did on Mikasa were shit or not.

Tattoo artist! Eren who started flirting with you when you came in to schedule an appointment and was set on getting you in his chair.

Tattoo artist! Eren who chuckled when you're so indecisive about where you want to get inked first and goes over every spot from most painful to least. He even tells you about numbing creams to help.

Tattoo artist! Eren who calms you down when you get nervous on the day you’re getting inked, and pulls a few strings to get the private room for you. "Just take a few deep breaths for me, sweetheart. It won't be so bad" is all he tells you in the gentlest voice when putting his gloves on.

Tattoo artist! Eren who gives your thigh a teasing squeeze, def feeling you up a but masking it as just checking out the area to size your tattoo right. He goes through three size choices, running his latex clad fingers over the skin of your thigh.

Tattoo artist! Eren who’s so damn close to touching your ass as he asks you which size of tat you want and waits so patiently for you to decide.

Tattoo artist! Eren who rubs little circles on your hip to soothe you when you start to cry and say it hurts when the tattoo gun starts etching out the design. "Shh, shh, don't hold your breath. You don't have to watch, just lay there and close your eyes."

Tattoo artist! Eren who tries so hard to distract you with talking, little massages, and even lets you hold onto his arm that's resting on your hip but he's thinking about how pretty you look with tears rolling down your face and wonders if he could make you cry in a different way.

Tattoo artist! Eren who tells you with praises about taking it so well and being good when you say you need a break and teasingly asks if a kiss would make you feel better.

Tattoo artist! Eren who's caught off guard but complies when you say yes and he places a few kisses on your face before asking to kiss you on the lips. If you say yes again, you'll be rewarded with the softest kiss, fleeting to tease but it makes you feel better.

When it's done and wrapped, and aftercare is talked over Tattoo artist! Eren gets your number and a date with you later once you're not sore and hurting.

Tattoo artist! Eren who weeks later is holding the underside of your knees as he fucks you nice and slow on his art table in his apartment, so careful not to dare ruin his ink on your thigh while he ruins you.

Tattoo artist! Eren who gets his own high from making you cry for different reason, servicing all your needs when he comes to your place from a long day. "I know you have one more in you, c'mon sweetheart, cum one more time for me."

Tattoo artist! Eren who would be so jealous if you ever attempted to let someone else do your other tattoos if you want more. He wonders why you would ever consider someone else when he's right there and will do it for you.

Let's be real, we know Eren is a lil possesive, Tattoo artist! Eren kind of thinks of his work on your tattoos as a way to make it clear you're in a relationship. "Someone else?? No, no way, I'll do it. Let me get my stuff and we'll head to the shop."

Reminder that requests are open .ᐟ