#studio x tattoo

[stardust-moth]

Mileven Week 2024, Day 6: Touch

[fandomfanservice]

The Heart Killers Fandom, how are you?

It’s only episode 1 and don’t know about you but feeling very very fed!!!

We are in for a wild ride fandom (just like Kant) 🫣😂

Let’s just get this out of the way, P’Jojo and Joong are really out here trying to convince us (delulu as we are) that there is universe where Joong/(Fadel) can resist Dunk (Style) for one second😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂. Sirs, you ain’t fooling no one.

I don’t know what Style’s flirting technique is but it just reminds me of this and its gonna work😂😂😂

Khaotung continues to be mesmerising and yes he will be trouble with captain B! 😉

First is just magnificent, every look just 🎯🎯🎯🎯🎯🎯.

FirstKhao are just a gift, what talent. This fan was scandalised and enamoured and needs more like now.

Whoever said good things come to those who wait, wasn’t a BL fan!

*credit to all the gif makers.

[littlescribbs]

I am absolutely freaking out with this official concept art of them! Freddie has henna tattoos??? HELLO! Omg 😳

[myokk]

(they are Not fans of professor binns)

[rosiesfables]

Avatar: The Last Airbender is one of my top favourite comfort show. So I figured I’d try my hand at drawing them. 💨🌊🪨🔥

The north and south water tribes are based on Inuit culture so I thought it would be amazing to showcase their traditional tattoos. Designs/meanings vary from different communities of course, but typically chin/v forehead tattoos signify womenhood. So that’s what I’m going with 🤞🏼

[klayr-de-gall]

Day 3 - Tattoos

Xiaos Voice: Again???

The one where Kaeya and Xiao have a tattoo studio together.

--

I had a ton of fun designing Dilucs tattoos.

You can always join in with all kind of fanwork and fandom! Make sure to use the #AU-August Tag, so I can find you!

As always, all entries for this week (Day 1 to Day 6) can be found on my Patreon already!

[Social Media and Patreon]

Masterpost

[kehlanifenty]

[justsunandstars]

flower shop/tattoo shop AU

Mylo works at flower shop his grandpa owns. he's skilled with flowers, ribbons and gift wraps cause he watched old man do everything since young age. as every shop in their small town they have regulars. one of them in particular always catches Mylo's eye. he knows his name is Claggor and he works in a tattoo shop nearby, and every time the young man stops by, Mylo wishes he had the guts to make a small talk with him. maybe ask him about the one he buys flowers for. he doesn't know Claggor buys flowers just as a shop accessory, for the girls to call him gentleman and take pictures with small cute bouquet in the middle of their badass looking studio. he doesn't know Claggor only has his eyes for the cute lanky florist from across the street, who always drops something as soon as Claggor walks in.

[pro-depresanti]

For research purposes - what piercing/tattoo do you think Alastor (human, modern times AU) would get? I need it for... reasons.

[jjungkookislife]

Butterfly Tattoo Studio: Morning Kisses

pairing: jimin x f. reader, hopekook x f. reader

genre: fluff, future polyam au, [18+]

summary: another morning with hoseok and another morning call from a flirty jimin.

wc: 510

warnings: some innuendos, implied smut, hoseok might have a sir kink?

“Good morning, love!” Jimin’s voice rings through your phone when you answer his video call. Your hair is still a little wild, sticking up at odd angles as you walk to the kitchen with your phone. After a second date, with Hobi promising it was just dessert, the boys had stayed up waiting for his return, eager to hear all about it. But just like your first date, Hobi was nowhere to be seen. They assumed he was at your place, finally calling it a night early in the morning before deciding to call around 8 a.m. just to check in and make sure their boyfriend was safe.  

“Good morning, Jimin,” you chirp. You pause when you see a shirtless Hoseok in your kitchen making you breakfast and coffee. Boy, you could get used to this. 

“Babe?” Jimin’s voice brings you back to earth and Hoseok turns at the sound. 

“Oh. Hey, doll. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Hoseok smiles bashfully. 

“Oh, so that’s where you are,” Jimin’s voice comes through again and Hobi raises a brow. You turn the screen so he can see his boyfriend, who smiles villainously at Hoseok. 

“Jimin,” Hoseok warns, but it goes over his head. 

“So that’s what you meant by having dessert,” Jimin teases, and you huff a laugh. 

“Jimin!”

“I tease,” Jimin sticks his tongue out. “We were just wondering if you were joining us for breakfast, but I can see you’re occupied.”

“It’s breakfast,” you say as you move closer to Hobi and he wraps his arm around your waist. Jimin giggles and then Jungkook appears beside him on the screen.  

“Ooh, well don’t you two look comfy,” Jungkook smirks and Hobi groans. 

“Why are you even up this early?” Hoseok grumbles as he nuzzles into your neck. 

“We were waiting for you,” Jungkook shrugs. “We wanted to make sure you were in good hands.”

“And apparently you are,” Jimin licks his lips, his tone low and flirty. It sends tingles down your back. 

“Jimin,” you breathe his name and he winks, noting the way you move against Hobi. 

“By no means stop on our account.”

“Jimin,” Hoseok warns, and he laughs in response. 

“We’ll let you two enjoy your morning together,” Jimin promises, a bright smile on his lips. “Oh, and babe?”

“Yeah?” You ask in response. 

“Hoseok goes wild if you suck on the spot right behind his ear. Enjoy!” With that, the phone call ends and Hoseok is groaning into your shoulder. 

“I’d like to say they’re not always like that, but…” Hoseok trails off with a sheepish smile.

 You laugh, shaking your head. “They’re funny and they care about you, even if they tease the hell out of us. I can’t wait to see them again. Dinner was fun that one time.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hoseok grins, kissing your cheek before turning back to the stove. “But first, breakfast.”

“Yes, sir,” you smile with a sparkle of mischief in your eye. Hoseok licks his lips. 

“Don’t be starting something you can’t finish, doll.”

<< previous // next >>

[aoitakumi8148]

...𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓻𝔂, 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓼𝓼 & 𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓓𝓮𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓜𝓮 ~ 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓘 𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘𝓼 𝓐 𝓛𝓲𝓮...

[flyttadigsart]

blessing your dashboard with a pink ryu (he/she/they)

[nicetattooparlor]

By Liv at Nice Tattoo Parlor

[ohraicodoll]

Just a heads up if you’ve sent something to my Ask box! I have a handful of Feral WIP’s I’m working on right now that are requests/prompts so if you send something in, I will get to it! Some of the asks either don’t fit in the story setting/with the character or I can write something quick in a non-story format so I answer those, but the longer or more intricate scenarios are gonna be longer stories.  (I tend to write some of these while I’m at the office working shhh don’t tell anyone. I just have 4 jobs and my fibro has been flaring up like a bitch lately, but I’ve been loving writing all of this)

[bi-writes]

ok reverse the TROPE !!!!!! sugar-mommy!f!reader x retired!simon <333 (18+)

he got discharged on a medical injury. his knee flares up now, phantom pains that shoot up his leg and pinch his spine. he feels like a failure--a lieutenant in his prime, and now he has to acclimate to civilian life and grit his teeth instead of drown the voices in his head out with gunfire.

he's been deployed as much as he could be just to stay away from this kind of place. so he didn't have to get on a train, or take the tube. so he didn't have to think about looking over his shoulder in the shops or learn how to pay a wifi bill. he hates going to the doctor's office, and he hates learning how to properly open his bank account, just to learn that there's nearly nothing in it.

the numbers just dwindle before his very eyes. the rent is too high, even in his shitty studio. when did cable cost that much? why can't he go to the pub for just a few pounds anymore? where is the compensation for giving more than a decade of his life in service of his country just to have to wait in fucking lines to get his medication and argue over the phone about where all his fucking money went.

maybe he never had any. maybe it's all lost somewhere. he'd ask his former captain, but he's halfway across the world, and over his dead body would he hold a hand out and ask for charity when he's 36 years old.

"don't get that one."

simon turns his head, a snarl caught in his throat. there's a pretty thing standing beside him, also staring at the array of ramen packages in focus. you take the orange package out of his hand and put it back on the shelf before reaching for a different package. it's got japanese characters on it, so he can't read the label, but you smile up at him.

"this one is way better. good price for it, too."

"'s more expensive."

"yeah, but you get eight packets in this one. that one only gives you five."

at the till, you notice him subtly counting the notes in his wallet. you pretend not to notice, rocking back and forth on your heels, but just as he picks up his bag to leave, you speak up.

"you wanna get a drink? on me."

and fuck, he could use a bourbon. on the first one, he thought your presence was pleasantly tolerable. by the fourth, he's staring down your shirt, dark eyes mapping out what the curves of your breasts might look like in the palm of his big hand. by the sixth, you're pressed up against a sticky bathroom wall and holding on for dear life as he pounds into you from behind, knickers in his back pocket, manicured nails digging slits into his tattooed forearm.

you sink those claws in that night; and you do not let go.

the third night you ask him out, he sees your flat for the first time. in a nice building downtown, doorman holding the door open for you. the elevator ride is long enough for him to see the tops of buildings, and when you step inside your flat, he swallows hard when he realizes you are way out of his league.

gorgeous leather seats and couch. large tv with surround sound. a french kitchen with a gas stove. your flat is filled with knickknacks and candles, low yellow lights and wonderful collections of art and little glass vases and sculptures. your home is filled with warmth, and you don't belong with him.

just as he thinks about backing out of the place, you turn and grip the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer. you touch your nose to his over his mask, smiling, and you push the door closed behind him and press him up against it.

"so, which room do you wanna christen first? i thought we could start in the kitchen."

you're a woman that knows what she wants, he'll give you that; and he doesn't have it in him to say no.

the sun wakes him up in the morning. he doesn't remember falling asleep--he doesn't like to make staying over a habit. when he sits up on his elbows, he takes a deep breath, realizing his back hurts a lot less. the mattress of your bed is wonderful, much more supportive than the flat mess he has on the floor in his own place, and he blinks himself awake when you come out of the bathroom.

you're freshly dressed, makeup on, and you're putting on your jewelry when you see him. you smile at him, coming towards the bed, and you bend down to kiss where his mouth would be under the mask.

"good morning, simon. sleep well?"

"mmm..."

you take that as a yes, cupping his jaw, and you kiss him over his mask again before going to get some shoes from your closet. he doesn't comment on the fact that when you open it, he realizes the closet there is only for shoes...

"you hungry, baby? want some breakfast?"

"i--oh..." simon lays back down when his back tweaks, and you reach for him when you see him fall back in the mirror. you smooth a hand down the side of his body, frowning.

"why don't you stay in bed? i'll have my assistant bring you something."

"no, tha's--"

"i'm not asking, simon, i'm telling you," you coo. you pick up one of his hands and trace one of his scars with your finger. you have long, almond-shaped nails. there's pretty chrome nail art over the wine red color you wear, and he focuses on it as you kiss his knuckles gently. "will you wait for me to come home?"

"where y'goin'?"

"gotta work, honey," you wink down at him. "and i want you to be here when i get back."

"tha' so?"

"mhm," you smile. "right here. in my bed--" you lift the covers a little and peek, giggling as you put it back down after getting a glimpse at his cock resting against his lower stomach. "just like this, simon."

he doesn't remember if he ever goes back to his flat. he thinks he went one more time, to grab a few bottles of his medication, but the tick in his knee hadn't been so bad with the great physical therapy you started paying for and the warm massages you gave him every night.

and his back--your bed always contours perfectly against the muscles of his back, and he finds himself sleeping a full seven hours every single night.

not to mention his new work outs. simon hadn't been to the gym much since coming home, but he knows he must be burning hundreds of calories with you. you test his limits. as soon as you're home, you jump on him, and the stress relief your pussy brings him is just what he needs to get the edge off. you're a fiend, especially after a rough day, and the way you bounce on his cock in every room of your flat keeps him up at night sometimes with the most glorious wet dreams.

you're up late that night. you're curled up on the couch in one of simon's shirts and a glass of red wine, and there's a mountain of papers around you that you're focusing on reading. you have a huge presentation tomorrow, and everything needs to be perfect. simon comes into the living room, shirtless, and you smile when you see him standing there. he's wearing the new sweats you got him, but you can't focus on that too much when you're staring at his pudgy, toned stomach and his nice pecs. you bite your lip, taking a long sip of your wine, and simon hikes up his mask to take a bite out of his bowl of ice cream.

"gonna be up late tonight?" he asks, and you nod. "want me to sit with ya?" you nod again, lifting up your legs, and when he takes a seat next to you, you drape them across his lap. you lean over to give his scarred cheek a kiss, and when you turn back to your paperwork, a thought comes across your mind.

"we should get married," you say softly, circling a note over something. simon keeps eating, as if what you said doesn't phase him.

"why's tha', love?"

"tax benefits."

"mmm..." simon drops one of his hands and thumbs against your ankle. the flat is warm. his stomach is full. his body hurts less, and his heart aches with something nice. "olright then."

you smile.

"good. cause i already bought the ring."

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 2: Piercings and Puns

“Pleeaaasse?” Johnny whines, pressing his hands together and giving you the biggest, sparkliest puppy dog look you could imagine.

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Please! My two o’clock cancelled an’ I’m so bored!” He flops over the counter, arms dangling right above the appointment books. You pointedly ignore the size of his biceps.

“I’m not letting you pierce me just because you’re bored.” You scoff. “Now shoo, Simon’s got an appointment coming in soon.”

“But ye barely have any!” He argues. “All I’m askin’ fer is a wee ear. No’ even a nipple!”

A shocked amalgamation of a bark, laugh, and scoff forces it’s way out of you at that. “It’s still a no!”

Johnny groans, but at least moves away from the counter. Unfortunately, he takes the opportunity to circle around behind you, pinching the cartilage of your ear. “C’mon, ol’ righty’s beggin’ fer a conch.”

The intercom buzzes before you can respond. You swat Johnny away with one hand while pressing the speaker button with the other. “Hello?”

“I’ve go’ an appointment with Ghost.” A man’s voice drifts through. You blink dumbly for half a moment. You still haven’t gotten used to Simon’s social media and booking moniker - he doesn’t like giving his real name out much, apparently.

You buzz him in. Johnny is still hanging around the desk even when you leave to get Simon - making your way down the shirt hall to his studio. The large man stands in front of his stencil maker, back turned to you.

You knock on his door frame quietly. “Your guy’s here.”

“Be out in a moment.” He mumbles, focused on whatever he’s doing. You don’t really know the steps by heart, but you do know that there’s something so special about watching artists perform this repetitive song and dance. This rhythm they know by heart. Skilled hands enacting each step with careful precision.

He’s so hard to read. Big and bulky but calm as the night sea. You want him to like you, but you know badgering him certainly won’t get you there. So, you turn on your heal and head back out. When you return to the front, Johnny’s disappeared back into his room.

You suck your teeth and lean back in the desk chair, rolling your earlobe between your thumb and index finger. It’s not a bad offer, really. You only have two earlobe piercings on each side. Wouldn’t hurt to add a helix… you’ve also wanted to get your thirds done for a while. Work your way up. You glance at the clock. Simon won’t be done with his client for at least an hour or so, and you’ve balanced the registers for the moment. Both Kyle and John are out today, so they won’t need anything.

It wouldn’t hurt… well, not metaphorically.

With a sigh you stand, wandering your way to Johnny’s space. The door’s wide open, and his head snaps up the moment you step close like a sixth sense. “Takin’ me up on my offer, bonnie?”

You roll your eyes. “Guess I am.”

“Whit d’ye want?” Johnny practically skips around his station, pulling out wrapped, sanitized tools and placing them on a rolling tray. He pats the center of the padded table in the middle of the room.

“Uh, been wanting to do my thirds for a while.” You shrug. “If you have time for two.”

“Och, I’ve got all the time in the world fer ye, hen.” Johnny grins, pulling up in front of you and grabbing a marker.

He’s so close as he places the marks on your ears, warm fingers feeling for the best spots. A thumb traces the back of your left ear down just to the beginning of your jaw briefly. Fuck, he smells good. Warm musk with hints of citrus around the edges. The way he tucks your hair back, hands framing your face as he lines up the dots, is so oddly intimate compared to the other times you’ve gotten pierced. He chews at his lip in concentration, pulling at the scar on his chin while turning your head back forth a couple times.

“Think I’ve got it.” He grins and steps back. “Have a look.”

You take the mirror, casually checking but not paying too much attention. You trust him to do right by you. “Looks good.”

“A’right. Now the fun part.” He grins, tearing open the pack of tools and a two new needles.

“Is this fun?” You frown, squirming a little at the size of the needle.

“It’s always fun t’poke a pretty girl.”

You roll your eyes, a growing theme between you two it seems. “Oh, you thought that was real clever, didn’t you? Had that in your pocket a while?”

“Why donnae ye reach in an‘ check?” He murmurs, leaning close to clamp your left ear. You’re half tempted to tell him it’s mean to tease a fat girl like this - but you don’t think he means anything like that by it. He’s just a flirt by nature.

Before you can answer, he shoves the needle through your ear. You stiffen, a strained noise bubbling up out of your throat.

Johnny coos as he slips the earring into your ear. “One doon.”

“Uh-huh.” You sniffle. Not that it hurts badly, just a basic physical reaction. Johnny still gives you an empathetic smile.

The second goes quicker, Johnny locked in on his work. It’s interesting, seeing how intense they get. You Is it odd to wish someone would look at you like that? With that much focus and passion?

“There ye go…good girl.” He murmurs in that deep rumble that would have you squirming if you didn’t still have a needle through your ear. “Doin’ so good f’me...”

“You’re a devil, MacTavish.”

Johnny just chuckles, knowing full well exactly what he’s doing. He steps back to look at the final result after slipping the second stud into your ear. They feel hot - like two small ovens on either side of your head.

“If it weren’t for the piercings I’d think ye were blushing, hen.”

“You’re gonna get yourself slapped one of these days.” You scoff, sliding off the table.

“Wouldnnae be the first time.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes for the millionth time.

You grunt, squatting low in an attempt to pick the last of the parlor trash. It’s not that you mind, trash was part of your duties from the start, but holy shit do these boys put bricks in their bins? You’d think tattoos would make light trash. Especially after the sharps are disposed of separately.

“Solid?” Simon appears in the hall, eyes flicking over you. You still can’t tell how he feels about you. Neutral, you suppose. At least that’s all you can glean from behind his seemingly permanent black surgical mask.

“Ya.” You sigh, letting the bag drop and leaning back to stretch. “Just heavy. Swear y’all aren’t throwing rocks in these just to fuck with me?”

You give him a grin. Simon just cocks an eyebrow - exaggerated by the small piercing lining it. You think, maybe the slight shaking of his shoulder is a laugh. In combination won’t he crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Maybe not.

“‘ere.” Simon grunts, closing the short distance between you quickly before snatching up the bag like it weighs almost nothing.

You stutter, following after him toward the back exit. “You don’t have to-“

“Not a problem.” He grunts, tossing the thing over the side of the bin. He quietly leads you back inside, locking the door behind you “Johnny go’ you already?”

When you frown in confusion he points to his ears.

“Oh! Yeah.” You shrug, leading the way back to front desk to finish up your closing duties. “He’s insistent. I’d wanted them for a while anyway so I figured there’s no harm.”

“Give ‘im an inch...” He sighs, pointing to the black bar bridge piercing at the apex of his nose. “Somehow talked me into this shite.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? I think it suits you.”

It really does. You can’t see most of his nose form under the mask but the arc of it leading up to bridge is strong, the piercing settling into the space nicely.

Simon breaks the silence. “You about done?”

“Almost. Just gotta check the ATM against the book real quick.” You nod.

He stares down at you for a moment, glancing out the semi-opaque window, now black with the night sky. There aren’t many street lamps on this side of town. You can only see a very faint glow from the one down by the car park.

“I’ll wait.” Simon settles his wide frame into Kyle’s usual chair.

“Oh! No you don’t have to! I’m sure you’re tired-“

“Wouldn’t feel right leavin’ you alone in the dark.” He cuts you off.

“It’s not a far walk-“

He scoffs. “Definitely not leaving you to walk alone.”

You sink your teeth into your lip, debating briefly on arguing. Based on his comfortable lean and crossed arms, it’s probably best to just let him walk you home. He looks so wide like that, veins prominent across his forearms. Fuck, you gotta find a boyfriend or booty call or something in this city. Anything to stop the temptation to stare at your hot coworkers.

It doesn’t take long to finish up your final chores. You turn all but one light off, wiring down from the bright overheads glaring at you all day. You glance over at Simon a few times while locking up the ATM, his covered face lit up by the light of his phone.

He leads you out of the shop once you’re finished, locking the door behind you and trying it a couple times to be sure. “Which way?”

“Uh, down here. It’s only twenty minutes.” You murmur, feeling guilty that you’ve kept him out extra late. You shove your hands in your hoodie pockets as you walk, the only sound on the street made up of your footsteps and some distant cars.

“What falls but never gets hurt?” Simon asks suddenly.

You frown. “Huh?”

“What falls but never gets hurt?”

You squint at him, trying to decipher anything from his face in the low light. You get nothing but a calm, warm gaze resting on you.

His eyes crinkle in the corners again. “Rain.”

“Pffft-“ You choke, caught off guard. “That’s such a lame pun.”

“Oh? I’ve got a better one.” Simon says, a smirk in his tone. “Why’d the mother clam scold her children?”

You chew your lip. God, you’re too literal to be clever enough for stupid puns and riddles. It doesn’t help that your head is spinning from this brick shithouse, incredibly attractive and intimidating man spitting popsicle puns at you.

“They were being shellfish.”

“Oh fuck off!” You shove at his arm playfully without thinking. He gives, let’s you push him slightly before you stiffen. “S-sorry! I don’t-“

“Nothin’ to apologize for.” The corners of his eyes crinkle deeper. Yeah, definitely a smile. You answer it with one of your own.