#Tattoo Stencil Machine

[genisynth]

[antimatteruniverse]

I just used a 14 Round Liner (I think I’m using long taper needles?! Onyx branded) needle for the first time and oooohhhhoooohhh that’s fun. Might have to become a trad/ neo-trad artist just for the excuse to constantly be using big as needles 🤣

Also pulled some lines that were not complete garbage, yay!!

[irontempersupplies]

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[bubble-dream-inc]

under your skin.

The last walk-in you expected to see in your tattoo parlor in one rainy day was a massive masked behemoth of a man. It came as even more of a surprise when you wanted to see him there again and again; and a final time when he kept coming back.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Tattoo artist reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 7K

a/n: listen, as a tattoo artist irl, the first thing i did when i discovered ghost had a tattoo was to think how i had to self indulge. i’d kill to tattoo this man personally. shoutout to @117s-girl, @somnibats and Eddie for the tremendous help when i had writer’s block, and @deafeningcat for the amazing beta read as always <3

tags: fluff, reader being horny for ghost, ghost being slightly ooc, mentions at verbal abuse, slightly suggestive and slight angst.

You remember the first time Simon Riley walked into your shop.

It was a cold and rainy day - like most days in Manchester - and you were idling by, doodling on a notebook by the front desk and listening to whatever was playing on the radio without paying it much attention. Glancing at the clock on the wall where the empty loveseat was, you were starting to wonder if you should go get something to eat while you waited, when the bell on the front door chimed, indicating someone had come in.

At first, you thought he was going to rob you, and in a second you were already kissing your expensive equipment goodbye in your head, cursing the fact you had decided to buy that pricey tattoo machine you were eyeing for so long just last week, but those thoughts vanished when the figure just stood in front of you. Silently, you eyed the skull mask and sunglasses that covered his face, wondering what was this guy’s deal, since it was way too grey outside to be wearing any sort of eyewear. Trying not to let his huge stature looming over you be intimidating, you were about to say something when his gruff voice cut the silence.

“You take walk-ins?” 

So he really was a client, you thought. Rummaging through the notebooks in the desk, you quickly glanced at your schedule, seeing your next client wasn’t supposed to come for a few good hours, and decided you were curious about the masked man.

“Well, it depends. What were you thinking of getting?” 

He stood still for a moment, and you wondered if he heard you at all, but suddenly he reached for something in the pocket of his jeans, extending a neatly folded piece of paper in front of you. His voice filled the silence again as you unfolded the paper, and you found the thick accent oddly calming coming from him. 

“I want it to be a sleeve. Covering my left forearm.”

You opened it to find a surprisingly intricate design, and it seemed like whoever did it made it with the intention of actually getting it as a sleeve. Not taking the masked guy for an artist, you found a signature on the bottom of the page, a chicken scratch that read “Tommy Riley”. Usually, you’d make light conversation and ask about the design, especially when it looked important, but something told you not to pry into this man’s business. Assuming he’s this “Tommy” fella, you just smiled politely, deciding you could fit the first session of it into your work day.

“Sure. It should take a few sessions, though, is that alright with you?” He simply nodded, wordlessly, and you decided that was good enough of an answer. 

Leading him into the procedure room after getting his approval on the price, you made sure to give him a consent form for him to fill out and sign while you traced the design to a stencil - making sure to cut the right adjustments to wrap around his visibly huge forearm. You wondered if he was a weightlifter of sorts, or maybe just a gym rat. 

Transferring the stencil to his skin and prepping your materials for tattooing was a completely silent ordeal, and your client seemed more than content in just letting the silence linger for the remainder of your encounter, and even if you were getting antsy by it, you were glad he didn’t comment on how visibly nervous you were when you wrapped your gloved hands around his arm to make the stencil stick - feeling his warmth and the protruding veins even through the latex that covered your own skin. 

“You have any other tattoos?” You asked, stepping on the machine pedal to make sure your tattoo machine was at the right voltage while he got comfortable setting his arm on the arm rest.

“No.” 

“Cool.” God, you felt awkward. “I’m gonna start now, tell me if it hurts too much.”

“Right.” 

You felt stupid saying that to a man that had arms the size of your head and was at least 6,4. As expected, he didn’t even flinch when the needles touched his skin, but you weren’t about to give up on your mission to make conversation with your mysterious client. While tracing it with the machine, you analyzed the design a bit closer.

“That’s some interesting art.” It wasn’t. It was tacky as hell, all missiles and skulls and other edgy elements, but you were not going to say that to him. “You like guns?”

“Something like that.” 

You gave up trying to chat him up shortly after. Even with the weird dad sunglasses on, you could still feel his stare on you, unnerving at best, and you wondered what was up with the mask. In your line of work, you’d met some interesting individuals, and you considered your shop a safe haven for all outcasts and misfits; you’d known, after all you did decide to pursue tattooing as a career. Still, something about this man - Tommy? - made you feel an itch to see what lied beyond the mask - both figuratively and literally.  At least it would take a few more sessions to finish his piece, hopefully he’d say more than five words at once to you at some point. 

It took you two hours to finish tracing it, and you deemed it was good to go and begin shading another day. Getting into professional mode, you gave him directions on how to care for it and asked him to come back after a month to start on shading it, and, as expected, he only nodded to you. Going back to the front desk, he handed the bills containing the price you had settled on, and turned around, leaving without another word. Out of curiosity, you picked up his file. The first thing you noticed was that he had left the “Occupation” space blank.

The second thing you noticed was that the signature read “Simon Riley”.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Simon didn’t come back after a month. 

A good few months later, you just figured he’d given up and was now walking around with an unfinished tattoo, or, worse, he had picked another artist to finish the job, and the thought made you angrier than you’d like to admit. Despite your annoyance, whenever you’d organize your clients files, you’d find yourself lingering on his, weirdly curious and feeling like he was a puzzle you were dying to solve.

A long time passed - you don’t know how much, but you’d say it was more than a year - before he showed up again, and, once again, it was unannounced. You were finishing a client’s tattoo when your friend - and coworker - knocked on the procedure room door, and when you’d told her to come in, she looked like she had seen a ghost. 

“There’s a guy in the waiting room asking for you. Said you were doing his sleeve…” She quietly announced, and you just stared at her quizzically, waiting for her to continue. "He 's…Big. Tall guy with a creepy skull mask.” 

She whispered the last part so he wouldn’t hear it, even if he was a good corridor distance away and the metal music coming from the radio would drown it out, and after a few moments you realized she was talking about Simon.  You remember answering something to her and finishing the tattoo on auto pilot before heading to the front desk, and, sure enough, Simon was standing there menacingly, in his whole huge aura, seemingly unbothered by how his height, frame, and mask were making the other clients in the shop regard him with uneasy looks. His eyes met yours once you showed up. You noticed he wasn’t wearing the sunglasses anymore, and his fabric mask had been replaced by a simpler balaclava and a hard skull mask on top that you hoped was made out of a synthetic material. 

Now bare, his gaze revealed its intensity to you, the dark hues following your every move in a way you supposed you could find intimidating if a small, very weird part of you didn’t find it attractive. He seemed tired, eyes cast downwards and with bags surrounding it, and you wondered what had happened when he was gone. 

“Hey.” You breathed, straining your neck to look up at him and completely forgetting about the other people in the room. “Riley, right? I’m guessing you’re here for the sleeve?”

He seemed slightly surprised you remembered his name, but the impression of seeing emotion in his eyes was gone in an instant as he simply nodded at you.

“Yeah. You got time?”

You didn’t. But you’d make it work, you weren’t about to send away the man who had, for some reason, plagued your thoughts so much for the last months. 

“I got a few more clients, but if you don’t mind waiting, i can fit you in?”

You hated how uneasy you sounded, your hands fiddling with a stray loose line of your ripped jeans as you waited for his answer.

“That works.” 

With his gruff reply, he turned and sat down in the waiting area, and you released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. 

The hours went by, the clients came and went to and from your procedure room as well as your colleague’s, yet, every single time you left the room to go to the front desk have a sip of water or check your next client’s name, Simon was still there, patiently waiting, the loveseat seeming oddly small under him, and his all black, dark getup blending perfectly with the black walls of the studio. If anything, it made you even more intrigued, since most people would have left by now, considering how long a tattoo takes and he could just come back another day, but he didn’t show any signs of having anywhere else to be. The people traffic started to wind down, and soon enough, you dismissed your last client of the day as you were the only artist left in the shop and the sun had already hid in the horizon. 

“Glad to see you again. I was wondering if you had gotten another artist.” You laughed somewhat nervously, taking a breather by the glass door while Simon finished filling out another responsibility form, and you had to ignore how nervous you felt when he turned to glance at you with those dark and intense eyes of his.

“Got busy, that’s all.” He murmured, setting the pen down on the front desk and turning to the wall where your flash pieces were displayed. “And I like your work.”

Feeling your eyes widen, you tried to conceal how flustered the comment made you feel behind a cool chuckle, but something told you Simon could see right through you. Going back inside and pointing him towards the procedure room, you briefly glanced at the fresh consent form and realized he filled out his occupation this time, the words “Army” surprisingly not phasing you one bit.

Simon was the same as the last time, quiet as a grave. But, seeing as you were wrapping up the shading quicker than you’d anticipated, you decided this time you would not let this mysterious man walk out of your studio - possibly forever - without at least getting one piece of information out of him.

“So…does it mean anything?” You nodded towards his arm, trying to play it cool. Being in this field, you quickly realized not everyone gets tattoos that mean anything, and most of them are really just for aesthetics, but the signature below the original design had you wondering, even if the newfound information that he was in the military made the over the top missiles and dog tags inked on his arm make a lot more sense. He stared at you from behind the mask for a moment, making you feel queasy under his stare and suddenly very aware of how much you were draped over his arm trying to get the shading on one particular skull to look just right.

“Yeah.” After a few moments he replied, a wave of sudden relief washing over you upon realizing you had not, in fact, crossed a line. “My brother made it.”

“He’s quite the artist.”

“He really was.”

Oh. 

You decided to drop the subject after the implication.

“And what branch are you in?” Not looking at him, you spoke in a low tone, too concentrated on the machine in your hands to realize you were maybe asking more than he was comfortable talking. “You know, uh, in the army.”

“Special Air Forces.” You realized he tensed almost imperceptibly, relaxing once you only hummed.

“Cool. I’d reckon you guys had tattoo parlors closer to base, though.” 

“We do.” He huffed. “But I know the guys. Not nearly as clean as here.”

At that, you chuckled gently, missing the way Simon’s eyes softened at the sound.

You continued the piece in comfortable silence, distantly registering the pitter-patter of the rain that had just started falling on the street beyond the front doors. Finishing it up, faster than you would have liked, you decided the corny design looked good - really good - on him, and he might have been the only guy possible to pull it off, which could have been related to how big and strong his arms looked. Wrapping the tattoo in plastic film and reminding him to not keep it on for too long, you had to focus on acting professional and not let him know you were ogling at the recently inked piece of skin. The long sleeve shirt he had rolled up to his forearms did not help you one bit, nor did the way his eyes followed your every single movement.

When you got back to the front desk - relieved to find the rain had stopped - you expected Simon to just pay and leave silently the same way he did the last time, but he actually lingered, letting his eyes wander through the flash pieces displayed in a neat corkboard in the waiting room - this one with your name written on top. You actually don’t know when he got your name - something told you it was when he asked your coworker for you. He seemed quite interested in one particular design that had been gathering dust for a long time on the board, considering how big it was.

“See something you like?” You followed his gaze, realizing it was a ram skull chest piece you had completely forgotten about; it looked too dark and menacing for most people looking for walk-ins and flash tattoos. “That one was meant to be a chest piece. Works for the back, too.”

Simon studied it for a few moments. What was up with this guy and skulls? Finally, he turned to you.

“When can you do it?”

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The third time Simon Riley walked into your studio, it was, by far, the most memorable one. 

Unsurprisingly enough, he had decided to set an appointment for the chest piece to be the last one of your day, a week later; whether he enjoyed the night time better or just wanted to not be bothered with other people around, that was a mystery to you. There was a third option in the back of your head, but you told yourself it was delusional, and your fascination with the masked man was, in fact, one sided. That didn’t stop you from greeting him with a cheery smile as you looked up from where you were doodling on your notebook on the front desk, pretty much like your first encounter. However, you didn’t think too much of what exactly the chest piece implied as you headed to your procedure room with Simon in tow. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you freezed for a second, holding up the carbon stencil in your hands.

“Uh, you might wanna…take off your shirt. It’ll be more comfortable for you.” 

Preparing the stencil gel, you tried your best to ignore him and not let your eyes wander too much as he lifted the unnecessarily tight black t-shirt over his head, careful as to not remove the balaclava and skull mask combo, folding it neatly and setting the piece of cloth over your table before standing next to you in front of the full body mirror. 

I’m a professional. I’m a professional. I’m a professional.

If you thought Simon was huge before, that was an understatement. 6,4 feet of pure, naked muscle stood inches away from your much smaller body, and you were extremely relieved to realize that he had, probably out of consideration for you, shaved his chest beforehand - the same couldn’t be said for the faint happy trail very clearly peeking from his jeans, sitting way lower on his hips than you’d like. Scolding yourself over and over for fawning like a horny teenager, you hoped the nervous tremble in your hands as you delicately smoothed the gel over his collarbones wasn’t as obvious as you felt it was. Even through the latex gloves you could feel the heat coming from his pecs, as well as a few minor scars that shouldn’t give you too much trouble. You decided to ignore the very visible and very big bullet scar on his side. As he adjusted his dog tags to hang behind his neck so as to not get in your way, you finally peeled the stencil off, trying to calm your frantic beating heart as he analyzed it in the mirror to make sure it was in the right placement. 

It got worse when he actually laid on the tattoo table - comically dwarfed under his enormous frame. Sure, you had tattooed a fair share of chests along the years - both men’s and women’s - and it never really flustered you, after all, it was your job, seeing skin was a very big part of it. However, as you lowered your torso on the bed and tried to adjust your hand to sit as comfortably as possible on his chest, you thanked the gods it was such a big tattoo; you had no idea how you wouldn’t mess it up if it was a tiny one. But you doubted Simon would ever get a tiny tattoo. Above all, you could appreciate how he maintained his breathing slow and steady and, again, didn’t even flinch as the needles touched him, making you like him as a client even more. 

“I’ve heard you guys in the army got…codenames?” You started, desperate to start some conversation before your intrusive thoughts won. “What do they call you?”

Slowly, you were getting used to his brief silence before answering you. It seemed like his way to decide if your question was worth answering or not, and you were glad he had found them all to be so far. 

“Ghost.”

“Very fitting.”

You were surprised to hear him exhale in a way that resembled a very weak laugh, and you felt giddy knowing you made your ever so quiet and serious client laugh - or something like that. Feeling calmer, you continued the very big piece, strapping in for a long next couple of hours.

They passed quickly, your hand working almost in autopilot as you traced the tattoo’s lineart and made light conversation with Simon - Ghost. You learned he was a Lieutenant, liked bourbon and the mask never came off. Granted, it was mostly you speaking and him answering, but you were glad he was entertaining your nervous ramblings, and you were only slightly embarrassed to admit to yourself you found his southern British accent very soothing on his deep, gruffy voice. In turn, you told him a little more about yourself; why you got into tattooing and even a few funny stories from dealing with past clients. 

Finally deciding it was enough strain on his skin for one session, you set your machine down and admired your work, smiling under your mask. Taking a generous amount of the tattooing balm on your fingers, you swallowed your nervousness before gently spreading the substance on his chest so it would heal nicely, not missing the way he relaxed under your touch. If you weren’t so busy panicking by having your hands on such a massive and attractive man, you could ponder on how he seemed to be enjoying that as much as you were. With your approval, he got up to examine the piece on the mirror, and you caught yourself staring into his strong, chiseled, and scarred back, before averting your eyes, choosing to focus instead on cleaning up the inky mess you made on your trolley. You once again went through the now familiar ordeal of him silently thanking you, paying, and leaving into the night.

As Simon Riley left the studio that day, carrying an unfinished piece of your work right on his chest, you realized something clearly had changed in the air between you two. You just had no idea if it was a good or bad thing.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The next time Simon showed up, a month later, you were stressed out of your mind.

You were booked, so you didn’t really have any open spots next to closing time the way he liked it, so he had to settle for coming a bit earlier than usual, which meant there were actually other people in the studio for once, including the one on the front desk yelling in your face.

You couldn’t really remember what he was yelling about, just that you were suddenly regretting your decision of working with people and wondering if it was worth it to stoop down low and insult him back the way he was doing to you. You figured the moment he started yelling about his already finished tattoo that it was most likely another scam attempt coming from him, but it didn’t really matter anymore once you zeroed in on the hulking figure that showed up unexpectedly behind your unpleasant client in the form of your masked savior. For a moment, you were scared things were going to get violent, but Simon didn’t have to do much. It took one glower from him, his gaze sharp enough to cut from way above the smaller man, and he was suddenly stuttering apologies and leaving the studio in a hurry. You ignored the looks the other people in the waiting room were giving the two of you, offering a tired, but extremely grateful smile, to Ghost.

“Hey, Riley.”

He was still staring at where the man had left, and the annoyance on his usually so stoic gaze came as a surprise to you. 

“What happened?” 

You were already heading into the procedure room, too shaken to deal with the stares of the people in the waiting room any longer, and shot him a sheepish look from over your shoulder. 

“Just a rude client being difficult. Not the first time he gave me trouble, either, but it happens.” 

Simon didn’t seem too happy with your answer, but he let it slide, for the moment. Heading into the room and closing the door behind you, the air fell into a familiar silence, broken only by the cluttering sounds as you set up your supplies, and, to you, your still frantic heartbeat in your ears by the less than pleasant interaction just a few minutes earlier. It was unlikely, given how observant he was, but you hoped Simon didn’t pick up on just how shaken you were. Still, you took a few moments to calm yourself down as you tested the machine with your feet; Simon had already made himself comfortable on the table, and soon enough you fell into the rhythm of inking him, the same way you had grown used to in those last few months. Focusing on a particularly stubborn piece of skin where the ink didn’t paint as easily, you were lost in thought when his voice pulled you back to reality.

“Are you scared of me?” You heard him ask quietly from above you, instantly knowing he was referring to the way your earlier client had run off on the sight of him. Pausing your ministrations, you looked up from his chest to find him already staring at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. Since you were currently working on the details on his collarbone, you haven’t realized how close you actually were to his face, and suddenly you were hit with the realization you could feel his breath through both your masks; and an intoxicating scent of cigarette smoke and cologne. Caught in a trance by his dark gaze, you realized a little too late you were gawking and not really answering his question, which made you feel very glad for the surgical mask covering your suddenly very red face and flustered expression. Looking down to continue your work, you tried to find your words once again.

“Not really. I mean, the mask was off-putting at first, but I've had some odd people as clients. You’re cool, though. You remind me of those big, scary guard dogs, but in a good way.” Cringing at the lame answer, you felt like a kid talking to her crush in middle school all over again, and the huff-slash-chuckle that left Simon only made it worse. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t, and in your flustered stupor you couldn’t find any words either, so you just let the air around you fall into a comfortable silence over again. If it were anyone else, you’d be wary of the constant quietness, but, for some reason, Simon’s presence was enough to make you content, even if no words were exchanged. 

Blacking out the parts that had to be inked was a piece of cake for you and your enormous needle - which you were glad was being used on Simon, since, most of your other clients would have been crying from the pain only halfway done with the black - and soon enough you were heading out to the front with him, readying yourself to bid him goodbye and, disappointedly, only see him again in the next month, once his tattoo was healed enough for another session, however, as you approached the waiting room, he made no move to leave. You thought maybe he was, again, inspecting your work displayed on the wall, the prospect of continuing to tattoo him after his chest piece was done getting you giddy already, but he was looking nowhere but in your direction, eyes unreadable behind the skull mask.

“I’ll wait until you close. Who knows if that asshole won’t come back expecting me not to be here anymore.” 

Blinking up at him, it took you a few moments to process what he had murmured under his breath, and, in an instant, your heart rate shot up as you tried to wrap your head around the implications. Had it been any other client, you would have laughed it off, telling him not to worry and that you could take care of yourself, but it wasn’t just about anyone. It was him. And for some reason, the fact made you only wordlessly agree with a nod of your head and wide eyes, certain he could now see how clearly flustered and red your face looked. An intrusive part of your brain was screaming at you that he was just being nice, and that the protectiveness was just because of his job and nothing else, but you’d entertain these thoughts later - if ever.

So, much like the second time you’d met him, the rest of your afternoon was spent with seeing Ghost’s massive figure patiently waiting in the way too small loveseat in the front room of the studio, living up to the scary guard dog imagery you had joked about to him, except, this time, in between clients you’d sit besides him to catch a break and make light conversation, the deep rumble of his voice soothing all of your worries in a minute. 

As the hours went by, it was way past nightfall when you closed up, everyone else had already left and you were exhausted after washing the studio on your own. True to his word, Simon loomed behind you like a shadow, quiet and intimidating, refusing to leave until he had walked you to your car in safety. You remember thanking him profusely, and him not making a big deal out of it, and the way your heart thrummed in your throat as you drove on autopilot to your house, trying to ignore the way Ghost’s figure walking besides you on the quiet sidewalk a few moments before felt just right. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

It was early August when you woke up in a very good mood that one morning.

Later you’d realize it was because it was the day of Simon’s appointment, but at the time you had chalked it up to just being a sunny day that brightened your spirits.

Business as usual, you went along your day, anxiously waiting for the place to empty out and you’d get your newly discovered favorite customer, not that you’d admit it outloud to him, or even to yourself. It was actually a slower day, with a big break between clients, which you were glad about, so between coffee and water breaks and chit chatting with your coworkers, soon enough the sun went down and the enormous figure of Ghost could be seen crossing the threshold of the studio’s glass door, responding your enthusiastic wave with a nod of his head, eyes relaxed behind the mask. As usual, he followed you inside the procedure room, and you remembered something.

“Lemme see how your sleeve is healing.” Extending your hand, you smiled cheekily at him, giddy after seeing his half-hearted eye roll, and he gave his left forearm for you to inspect. With his busy way of life, you’d have expected to be worse, but it was actually very well taken care of. “Wow, this has healed up perfectly, good job, Simon!”

You beamed up at him, but your smile faltered once you saw his eyes widening at the praise. Oops. He grumbled something in response and you decided to save him the embarrassment, releasing his arm with a chuckle.

No matter how many times he did it, every single time Ghost took his shirt off it made your brain short circuit, but you remained professional and fell into the familiar routine of tattooing him in comfortable silence, only this time it was broken not only by you talking first, but also him. It surprised you to hear him ask you questions first or tell you some non-compromising stories about his job, - making you chuckle a few times hearing about the shenanigans of this “Soap” friend of his - but you weren’t about to complain. You were lost in the familiarity of it all when you realized that you were actually almost done with the shading - meaning his chest piece would end one session earlier than expected. Trying to mask your disappointment, you wrapped it up, forcing a smile to a suddenly very confused Ghost. 

“I thought we were going to need another session but, uh, turns out it was…faster than i expected!” You gave him a slight, nervous chuckle, and you swore you saw his eyes widen behind the mask. 

As usual, you wrapped the ink in the plastic film - finding it very hard to make the masking tape stick to his large pecs - and gave the same instructions in a robotic way, following him to the front desk where he finished paying for his piece, all in absolute silence and with unreadable eyes. As the transaction was finished, he lingered, standing silently in front of you, looming. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“So, yeah, i guess that’s it…” You gave another chuckle, offering him a gentle smile. “Hey, don’t be a stranger-”

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” He blurted out, shutting you right up, and that stopped you dead in your tracks. You stared up at him, unsure if you had heard him correctly, and were waiting for him to say something else or even backtrack, but that never came.

“Uh. Yes? I mean, yes, sure! I’d love to!” You stammered, certain you were wide-eyed and a flustered mess, not expecting him to be so straightforward, or, even say anything at all. Simon seemed a lot more composed than you, even if the way he blurted his question out made it seem like he could be slightly nervous. You doubted he ever got nervous, though. 

“Great. Does this weekend work for you?” 

Thinking back on your schedule, you remembered that no, it didn’t.

“I’m booked with work…But, the next one I should be free.” You hated how awkward you sounded.

He nodded, and took his phone out of his pocket to extend it for you, and you assumed he was asking for your number in the Ghost-est fashion possible. You unlocked it, noticing the lack of a password and the factory wallpaper, realizing it was probably a personal and barely used phone, punching your number in and saving the contact. As you returned the device to Simon, you found solace in realizing he probably felt as awkward as you did.

“I’ll see you in a fortnight, then.” 

With a last nod of his head, he left, leaving you flustered, confused, but extremely giddy, and with a heart pounding against your ribcage. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Simon came back a week before he was supposed to.

As usual, you were closing up shop when he showed up, distractedly walking around the front room of the studio as you organized everything for the night, the sound of the heavy rain outside covering up the creaking of the glass door, so when you turned around, his presence startled you. 

“Hi Simon! You’re early.” You chuckled once you recovered from your scare, but he didn’t match your energy. He was just standing there, stiff as a plank, and staring silently at you. Growing increasingly worried, you were about to ask if he was alright when he beat you to it. 

“I’m leaving for a mission. And i’ll be gone for…some time.” 

Your heart dropped, and you could only stare at his mask trying to process his words and find words, but ultimately settling on a quiet and disappointed oh. He finally approached you, and in less than a second he was standing towering over your figure, holding you in that familiar eye contact you’d grown to look forward to so much, even if you'd realized by his gaze that he seemed just as upset as you. 

“Will you…be in danger?” It was a dumb question, but you couldn’t help yourself, everything you told yourself the days about moving slowly and waiting for your first date to decide how much you cared flying out the window as you openly worried for him for the first time. Ghost sighed, and suddenly you were hyper aware of how close you stood.

“I always am.” 

Not breaking away from his intoxicating gaze, your words lowered to a whisper, a plea.

“Be careful. Please.” 

The air stilled around you, thicker in tension that got worse with each passing millisecond, all of those feeling like hours. Simon’s height had never seemed so intimidating, and you never chastised yourself so much before for liking how his intense aura made you feel, something that increased tenfold once he boldly got even closer to you. Opening and closing your mouth like a fish, hoping something would come out eventually, you stilled upon feeling his gloved hands gingerly touching your face - dwarfing you in them - and you swore your heart was about to leap from your chest to your throat in a matter of seconds. His steely gaze flickered downwards briefly before returning to your eyes, asking for permission for something you didn’t even know quite right what it was, but that you’d give him regardless. The rough texture of his gloved left hand reached your now slightly parted lips as he traced the bottom of them with his thumb, moving his other hand to slowly lift up his balaclava just enough to expose his - unsurprisingly - sharp, stubbled jaw and full, lightly scarred lips. You barely had time to admire what you could see of him before his face was merely inches apart from yours, your breaths mingling together from both of your parted lips.

“You don’t even know what I look like.” He mumbled against you. A silent beg for you to stop him now, but you wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I don’t care.” You breathed back, voice barely above a whisper, and that seemed to break his resolve, as in the next moment he was leaning in and finally capturing your lips with his. 

Kissing Simon Riley in real life was so much better than what you imagined. His height made it that he had to lean down an awkward amount to reach you and you actually had to stand a bit on your toes, but none of that mattered as you finally felt his lips move against yours, surprisingly slow and gentle for a man that looked like that, but you supposed he was always full of surprises. He moved his hands from your face to your waist, gripping with a little more force when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, encouraging him to kiss you harder - it would be a waste not to feel just how strong those huge arms of his could get wrapping around you. Groaning into your mouth, his touch soon became ravenous as he tasted you like a starved man, both of you now knowing it might as well be the last time you’d see each other, but you didn’t want to dwell too much on it, choosing instead to focus on the way he gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the counter as if you weighed nothing, getting even impossibly closer to your smaller frame, never breaking the kiss. You felt like you could stay wrapped up in his arms for hours, but at some point you had to part your lips, keeping your foreheads touching and looking at each other without saying another word.

He waited until you closed up and walked you to your car again; except, this time, as you watched his retreating figure from the rearview mirror, your chest felt constricted, the unsureness of if he’d ever come back alive clenching your throat in fear. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The late june spring air smelled good, and you were in high spirits. 

You hummed contently, cleaning with a paper towel wet with soapy water the last smudges on the inked skin, leaning back to admire your work. The black crow on his upper back turned out particularly good, and you found it amusing how its edgy nature went along well with the other tattoos already on his body. Spreading the hydrating vaseline to wrap the piece up took a little more than you’d take with other clients, since you were busy admiring and feeling up the strong, scarred back beneath your fingertips. 

“All done!” 

The man got up, admiring the crow in an awkward angle in front of the full body mirror, and you couldn’t help but keep staring at the muscular back and pecs that you could see from your position in your chair.

“Quit the ogling.”

His voice sounded gruffy, but slightly amused, which made you chuckle and get up, stopping by his side to lean against his huge arms and stare back at him through the mirror.

“Quit being hot, then.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but you knew he was smiling under the mask and possibly had the slightest red dusting his cheeks - since he was so pale, you’d always notice it when he had his mask off, and in turn, he’d always notice how you’d stare at his face with a smug smile. He looked over the tattoo once more before you wrapped it up, past the stage of giving him the instructions, all of them already second nature to him, considering it had been so many years he started getting tattooed by you.

“You know” You started as he followed you to the front door of the mostly empty studio, the only other sound being the tattoo machine of a single other coworker that was staying late in their own procedure room. “You don’t have to wait for me, you know I still got another client and it should take one or two hours more.” 

Ghost huffed, turning to you with his hands on his jacket pockets, the height difference between you never failing to take all the air out of your lungs.

“Nonsense. He’s not supposed to be here for another half an hour, right? I’ll go grab us some dinner from that place you like and I’ll be right back. I’ll help you close up then we can go home.” 

You shook your head with a giggle, watching as he came closer to you, and were about to protest more but he gave you a look that left no chance for you to be stubborn, shutting you right up. Taking one hand out of his pocket, Simon lifted his mask just enough for you to see his jaw - which you had already admired that morning while he was shaving - and his lips, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. You smiled, feeling him murmur just so you could hear it.

“See you in a minute, love.”

With that, he left, leaving you to watch fondly his retreating form from the glass door, as you chuckled dreamily one last time and went back to your procedure room.

[solsdraws]

Just tattoed my first orange

Feeling good

[formyparasocialrelationships]

Sweaty Tattoos

A/N: Not me being mildly annoyed that there isn't more stuff about this goof. Inspired by the current Danish weather, and my current tattoo itch. I should just start tattooing myself, really.

………………

“You laying good there?”, Joost asked in a chuckle, watching as you laid still on the leather covered bench, waiting for the tattoo artist that was sitting by your ankle to get ready, smearing the cream onto the purple stencil on your leg, in order to keep your skin hydrated.

You tugged the oversized closely around you, looking up at the blond dutch, still smiling down at you, finding your strained angel every amusing to look at. His arms crossed for comfort, his sunglasses pushed up to top of his head, with a few hairs of his bangs stickuíng to his forehead in the heat. Not even Joost was immune to the building heat in Europe.

“Never been better”, you sighed, trying you best not to sound uncomfortable. There was always that little growing nervousness before getting a tattoo, as you anticipated the impact of the needle. No matter how often you decided to subject your skin to this, your brain would always rail you up, thinking that it was going to be worse than it actually would. That coupled with the rising summer heat had you covered in small droplets of sweat, making your skin stick to the leather underneath you, making you even more uncomfortable. But you wanted this tattoo! A little uncomfortability would never overhaul the need for another tattoo.

“Hey”, Joost said, uncrossing his arms so that he could grab your hand with a reassuring squish. “If you need water or anything else, just tell me. I got gummies in my backpack”, he said, nodding towards his bag leaning up against the wall.

You let out a chuckle, feeling some of the weight being lifted off of you. Of course he had brought candy. Especially after your last tattoo where your blood sugar dropped.

“No stroopwafels?”, you laughed, stroking his knuckle with your thumb, letting him know you appreciated it.

“In this heat? Never!”, he exclaimed, acting offended at the thought of a half melted stroopwafel, drawing another laugh from you. However your laugh was cut short, by the sound of the tattoo artist turning on the machine, the buzzing sound echoing against the walls of the studio.

“Ready?”, the artist asked, to which you answered with a small smile and a nod, before his gloved hand stretched out the skin of your ankle, followed by the needle breaking through the surface of your skin. And with the small dull pain, all nervousness started to fade away, once again reminding you of how comforting it actually was to be tattooed. Feeling your heartbeat calm down, your grip on Joost’s hand softened a bit. Joost did not say a word, but gave you a warm smile along with another squish of your fingers. He did not need to use words in order to tell you how much he cared. It was the smiles he would give you, along with the way he held your hand, and the small acts he did for you, such as bringing you water and sweets, just to make sure you wouldn’t repeat the incident of last time.

Before long, your small ankle tattoo was finished. You sat up on the leather bench, before making your way to the mirror, taking a look at the fresh black ink on your skin.

“It looks great”, you smiled, letting the artist know that you were satisfied, before letting him wrap it up.

“My turn!”, Joost exclaimed, sounding like a happy child.

You look at him in slight confusion, one of your brows arching. “Didn’t you say that you weren’t going to get a tattoo today?”, you asked.

“I did, but now that I’m here I might as well do it”, Joost smiled mischievously, as if he was totally innocent. All you could do was roll your eyes, before letting your goofball of a boyfriend decide what tattoo he wanted. On his ribs…

“Uhm, are you sure that’s a good idea?”, you asked, your eyes scanning over the purple stencil on his ribcage. You could already imagine the pain.

“Of course it’s a good idea”, Joost said, laying on the bench with his shirt off, waiting for the tattoo artist just like you had done moments ago. “It’s going to look sick”.

“Whatever you say”, you sighed with a smile, before grabbing a hold of his hand. You knew your boyfriend way too well by now. Right now he was calm and collected, even playing with your fingers while he waited. But then the needle made contact with the skin of his ribcage, with his facial expression changing in an instant, almost fighting to keep his breath steady. The hand in yours tightened its grip, making you bite back a laugh. You knew it.

“God voor dom”, he sighed while the artist turned to dip the needle back in the ink cap, before continuing on Joost’s rib. Safe to say, you weren’t the only one that was sweating that day.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader

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

[nohoney]

dabi’s pretty baby that accompanies him to get a tattoo. he’s getting a dark cybersigil piece that starts at his right forearm and goes partly onto his hand, a sketch that he had drawn the rough draft for and then let the tattoo artist finalize the design when he was satisfied with the final result.

you sit with dabi in the waiting room after he’s checked in for his appointment, filling out all the paperwork and then waiting for the artist to prep their station as well as the stencil. he’s pulled your legs over his lap, his hands idly tapping some random beat on your knees and you’re staring at the empty space of his forearm, thinking that it’s going to forever be decorated in black ink and it will be the last time you see it naked.

“alright man, let’s put the stencil on now.”

the thin paper is laid out on pale skin after sanitizing the area, carefully peeled back with light purple ink left behind in its wake. dabi rotates his arm left and right, observing how his skin moves with the tattoo. “what do you think, doll? does it look straight to you too?” he asks as he goes to where you sit and holds out his arm to you.

you look a little carefully, placing your hands on his forearm and also carefully rotating so that you can assess the placement. “maybe a little more to the right? so that the spikes line up more towards your nail beds?”

the stencil is readjusted and dabi gives the good to go, getting posted up at the station as he leans back against the seat and is able to rest his arm comfortably on the cushion. and you get to sit beside him, given a chair that you scoot as close as possible to his opposite arm.

the loud buzzing of the tattoo machine initiates the start of the appointment now.

you watch at first with fascination how the artist applies the tool to dabi’s skin, dabbing it in a little container of black ink and starts to follow the lines of a stencil. a funny thought comes to your head that you voice out loud to him, “it’s like you’re a coloring book.”

both the artist and dabi laugh a little at the observation, not necessarily wrong.

outlining the stencil is a much longer process than you thought. there’s a lot of wiping down in between as well before even getting to fill in the spaces with more black ink. dabi has to take two breaks, one for the bathroom and the other for food that you volunteered to walk over to the little burger place that was just a five minute walk away. there’s so much relief from him as he eats two whole burgers and fries with his left hand, commenting that he hadn’t realized how hungry he was now that he’s out the chair. but he checks in on you, eating away at ten piece nuggets with your favorite sauce and drinking a milkshake.

“i’m okay, i like watching. i think it’s kinda fun.”

back in the chair dabi goes in and you also resume your spot next to him. the artist had already switched to the other needle needed for filling out the rest of the tattoo. the last part of the stencil is dabi’s hand, which is one of the more painful areas to get tattooed.

dabi’s face twitches here and there, taking in a deep breath and assuring that he’s fine when the artist asks if he’s okay. you’re holding his left hand for support, also noting how he squeezes a little hard and you squeeze back in silent comfort.

but the design is finally completed, dabi sighing in relief and scooting out the chair when he’s offered to look at it in the mirror. he nods his head in approval at the fresh ink, even letting the artist take a photo to post on his instagram before laying through saniderm over the new tattoo. already knowing tattoo aftercare, dabi gives his thanks and a hearty tip before walking out with you.

the wrap for dabi’s tattoo gets peeled off after a few days and you help in applying moisturizer to his skin until he no longer needs to do the aftercare.

“baby, come here. i need you to check something.” he calls for you, waiting a few seconds as you arrive to the doorway of the bedroom. you’re waved over and you stand in front of him, asking what he needs to check. “just need to make sure the tattoo looks good, that’s all.”

his right hand goes to your neck and you gasp, your heart racing as dabi applies some light pressure to the sides of your neck. you moan softly as dabi genuinely inspects how the new ink looks, admiring the design before he lets go and kisses your forehead.

“yup, looks good.”

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Hunters Ink

Tattoo artist!Daryl Dixon x Reader

One tattoo leads to many more when you fall head over heels with the artist.

You made your way into the shop, quickly engulfed in old rock music and the buzz of machines. The place was packed.

An older bald man welcomed you, a bright smile on his face after he had notified his client. "What can I help ya with, sweetheart?"

You stumbled over your words, unsure how to go about things. "I'd like to get a tattoo."

The man gave you a soft laugh. "Well tha's a given, why else walk into our shop, huh? Now, you got a picture withya, or do ya need sum time to look around fer inspiration?" He motioned around and pointed at the walls adorned with designs.

"I brought something" You fished in your bag for the piece of paper that held the print of a dog's paw.

The man took in the print and called someone else over.

"Daryl! C'mere, this one's yer business." When he turned back to you his voice went softer. "Mah brother does what ya want, my style ain't good fer the lil' details. He'll take over, yeah?"

He handed your paper over to his brother, who looked it over. "Where d'ya wan' it?" You went over all the basic details, where, how big and if you had any other tattoos already. You shared the reasons behind the pawprint and got a couple of placement suggestions before deciding you wanted the piece on your lower arm.

The appointment was quickly made and you left with Daryl's artist card and a warm feeling inside.

The day of the appointment came up quick and you made sure to follow the advice you were given. You had a good meal beforehand and brought some sugary sweets and drinks with you.

"C'mon over, cutie. Got yer paw ready for ya." Daryl came to collect you after you hadn't moved when he called you.

"I got the whole day for ya, so we'll go at your pace, yeah?" His gravely voice was so calming, it really helped with the first tattoo nerves.

"Thanks, really appriciate it." You gave him a sweet smile as you watched him cut different sizes of your tattoo and asked for your hand. "Let's see which size looks best."

Daryl held the guessed sizes to the chosen spot on your arm. "I think the second one?" He took it and held it to your arm once again at your decision and after taking it in you decided it was good.

"Aight, go sit and I'll get it ready for ya." You followed his every move as he talked through the whole stencil making process and came back to you.

With minimal peach fuzz removal and proper cleaning the stencil was on your arm and you were admiring the idea of what it would look like when it was done.

You were ready to go.

Daryl's touches were featherlight, so precise and focused you were almost scared to speak from the moment he held tour wrist to place your arm on the stand beside the chair.

"M'gonna start, do a lil' line ta see how ya handle it." He rubbed something on the stenciled skin and moved the buzzing, inked up machine to your skin, keeping and eye on you as well but you barely gave a kick when he drew the first line.

Daryl gave you a proud smile and went to work. "Ya can ask ta tap out anytime, need ta keep ya as comforable as possible."

You watched his hands work your skin. The way the muscles in his arms tensed at every precise movement and the way his hair was tied back for the work was hypnotising to see. The outline was done before you knew it with how distracted you were by his own large collection of ink.

"How'r ya holdin' up? S'not so bad ain't it?" He came back with a glass of soda for you to give you both a little break.

You admired your arm, the skin all red from the scraping but it didn't hurt that bad. "I'm good." You started, giving yourself a moment to form a sentence. "You're so.. so much softer than you look?" God what were you saying? That was nowhere near a compliment.

"Ya thought we're all as loud as Merle? Loud music, loud angry mouth?" You shyly nodded as his correct assumption. He was being so sweet to you, making sure you were still good every few moments and it warmed your heart to know such kind people were still around. You just didn't think they looked like that.

With the way his heavy boots stomped through the room and the chains on his pants jingled with each step you'd expected short, snappy answers and the all black attire didn't feel welcoming at all before.

But now as you stared at him while he was answering a phone call you couldn't help but let your mind wander off.

You were mesmerised with the ink covering his throat, the wings that followed the natural lines of his body almost perfectly, and every other piece that disappeared into the neckline of his shirt. Even the nude lady laying over the top end of a knife on his lower arm was pretty to you, and you never though the silouhette of roadkill would hold your attention like it did.

"Didn't your mama ever teach ya it's rude ta stare?" You were so deep in thought you hadn't heard the door bell jingle when Merle came waltzing in. His voice pulled you from your daydreaming so fast you got embarrassed. With your head ducked down you glanced over at Daryl who was still on the phone, but he did look back at you with a smile and winked at you. He flipped off his brother with his free hand and went back to writing on a scrap piece of paper and ending the call.

"Ya see me on the phone from outside the window and ya still come in like tha'?"

Merle only laughed and went over to his station to set up for the day. Their back and forth bickering kept up for a bit but it didn't bother you with Daryl smiling through all of his comebacks.

"Darlene, when will ya learn it's still mah own shop, so I can do whatever the hell I want." Merle was at the printer, reading his client's designs while Daryl wiped the excess ink off your skin. "Your shop? Aight how 'bout ya start doin' all the supply orders too, then. Watch ya run outta paper towels halfway into a client's piece."

Merle only yammered some insult in return and went back to working in silence.

Now that his brother was finally quiet again Daryl could continue working without interuptions, having constatly removed the machine from your skin as he replied to the conversation.

A couple of times you thought he was done when he went to move away, but eaxh time it was small top ups and detailing, making sure all the small lines of fur were copied over from the stamped pawprint of your dearest friend were copied over onto your body.

"Ya still like me after today?" He was cleaning up his station while you were admiring his work in the mirror and saw him smile at you in a way that had your stomach do a flip in the best way, already thinking up a next piece so you could come back.

"Ofcourse I still like you! You got me exactly what I wanted, thankyou." You were back at his station, letting him clean your arm for the last time with his gentle touches, but not without a soft "Sorry." before wiping away the excess fluids and wrapping it up for you.

"I'll give ya this, tells ya how ta care fer new ink. And this, on the house." You accepted the paper and aftercare creme and made your payment before you shared goodbyes and you went on your way.

As planned you came back to the shop four weeks later to show the healed piece, not needing any touch ups and getting compliments on taking good care of it.

Instead of heading out immedately you stuck around, looking at the walls until Daryl's voice caught your attention. "Ya wanna ask somethin'?"

You looked at him before averting your gaze again, somehow feeling it was wrong to already ask for a new tattoo. You heard Daryl chuckle. "Ya want somethin' new, dontcha? Tell me whatya got in mind."

He had stopped to lean over the front counter and gave you a knowing smile. "Ya were starin' at the animals, want one o'them?" He looked over and pointed at the frame that held a part of his flash designs and you carefully mentioned liking the rabbit, but not the overall dark theme of the collection.

"Lemme draw ya a pretty bunny and i'll send ya the picture, 'kay?" You immediately loved the idea. The way Daryl's animal desings held so much emotion had you excited he was designing one just for you. "Yeah, that would be amazing. A softer, maybe less dead bunny." You smiled whe he slid over a piece of paper that held your info he copied from your previous appointment, but the phone number section still open. "Fill tha' in for me? Fer the books."

Maybe it wasn't the smoothest way to ask for your number, but he had it now along with a reason to text you.

Not long after you got your bunny, then came some flowers added around it and eventually you were getting custom pieces drawn by Daryl every time you had some money to spend.

Ofcourse it wasn't all you. Daryl had figured out where you worked and made sure to leave you very generous tips to add to your tattoo funds, just so Merle wouldn't figure out you weren't paying full price anymore now that you were getting so close.

"No way he just left you that much--" your work bestie squinted at you as your gaze followed Daryl out the door after he had paid way too much and headed out. "Is he your boyfriend?" You looked at her with a frown and swatted her arm. "Shut up, oh my god we're just friends.."

The truth was, you were both too scared to ask the other out, so seeing each other at the shop and the lunch place was what kept you both close for now.

A/N: This took so much longer than I planned, I hope the hype for this one hasn't left yet!!

[m00nh1gh]

THE WALLS

Changbin x reader

Changbin is your tattoo artist bf <3

Contains: Fingering, vaginal unprotected sex (he pulls out), reader squirts and it's dirty asf, technically in public but there's no one apart from you two, Changbin calls reader "Baby" and "Babe", reader calls Changbin "Binnie".

Word count: 1.6k.

"I'm so lucky to have you, Binnie," you put your arms around his neck as you looked at him with a sweet smile on your face.

“Because I'm your personal tattoo artist?" He scoffed, guiding you to the long chair you'd have to sit on for the next couple of hours.

"Not only that, but it is great that I get generous discounts," you sat on the edge of the chair as Changbin's hands stayed on your waist. He looked at you with a silly smile and he leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"Of course you're lucky to have me," he finally let go of you to gather his equipment. He dragged a rolling table along with his own chair next to yours and then he looked at you with expectant eyes as he got a new pair of gloves out of the box. 

"Are you going to lay down, or?

- Yeah, yeah. I was just waiting for you to tell me to do it." 

He put the gloves on as you laid down on the chair. He arranged his tattoo gun and then got some products out like ink and vaseline. The stencil was ready as well, so he turned the lamp that was right above you on and he sat at your side, because you were getting a rib tattoo.

You had already taken your shirt off and were only left with some sort of tissue covering your boobs so your skin was ready to be used for work. You saw him take the machine in his hand and he dipped it in a small cup of ink that he had prepared.

"Binnie I'm scared," you said as you saw the needle coming closer and closer to your rib, where Changbin had just transfered the stencil.

"Don't worry baby, it'll only take an hour or two. I know you can do it," he held your cheek with the hand that wasn't holding anything and he kissed you lovingly before going back to work.

"Tell me, though, if it's too much pain.

- Yeah, don't worry about that."

It took him an hour and a half to finish your tattoo. It didn't hurt as much as you'd thought, but having numerous needles poking your skin for that much time certainly wasn't comfortable. Apart from that, you enjoyed watching your boyfriend being this concentrated. He made sure everything was perfect and you had to admit that seeing him like this made you feel some type of way.

He had just applied some cream on the fresh tattoo before sticking saran wrap over it with bandage tape. Once everything was discarded, he turned his complete attention to you with an excited smile.

"Can you sit up, babe? Wanna see the tattoo? 

- Of course I want to!" You slowly sat up to make sure you didn't startle yourself with the pain from your rib and Changbin helped you up before walking with you to the full body mirror that was placed against a wall.

"Binnie, it's gorgeous! I love you so much!" You gasped when you saw the tattoo. The shadows and colors matched so well together and it looked way better than what you had expected (not that you didn't expect something great, you know your boyfriend's the best tattoo artist out there). It also matched well with your personal style, you were grateful that he changed some things up on your sketch to make it work better on you. Changbin hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek, happy that you liked his work.

"Don't you think you deserve a little reward now? Because you did very well too.

- What are you thinking about?

- Making my girl feel good, obviously," his hands traveled down to your hips, sliding some fingers just a little under your pants to show you what his plans were. You hummed as you unzipped your pants, giving him the consent he was waiting for. His hands went back out of your jeans and he pressed his hips to yours, slowly sliding the clothing article off.

"Wanna do it in front of the mirror? Wanna see yourself fall apart on my dick?" He asked you, wrapping a hand around your throat but not squeezing as his other hand slowly rubbed your clothed clit.

You nodded as your hands found his pants and you unzipped them for him. It was hard to do as you couldn't look at what you were doing since he was behind you, but you still managed to get his pants down a little and you whined because he was still rubbing you.

He chuckled and let go of you to take his pants and boxers off and you did the same as him. You pressed your ass on Changbin's dick when he held your hip with one hand and he went back to playing with your pussy now that it was all exposed for him.

“You're beautiful, baby. I won't be able to stay out of your pretty cunt for too long," he gently kissed your jaw and the back of your ear as he whispered to you.

You moaned when he slid two fingers into you at once, squeezing your thighs around his hand. He started to pump them at a slow pace at first, but when he felt you getting wetter around him and your moans got more desperate, he went faster and hit your g spot continuously, making you think he would make you squirt because of the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

"Gonna cum already? With two of my fingers only?

- Mh- Changb... Want your-

- Yeah, don't worry, my baby. I'll give you what you want," he pulled his fingers out of you before bending you a little so he could get a better view at your entrance.

The only lube he needed was your own wetness as he rubbed his dick along your folds and your whining made him slide into you soon after he was ready. It was certainly a tight fit, because he was only tip deep into you and you already felt your vagina burning.

"Binnie, too big," you moaned as you held his hand that was on your hip. 

“I won't move unless you tell me to baby, take your time," he reassured you as he kissed your cheek in reassurance.

You nodded and he went very slow when you told him to and it took a few minutes for him to be all the way in you. It still burned, so you both stayed still for a little while before you told him to start moving. he went almost all out of you before slowly sliding back in, making you moan in both pain and pleasure, because even if it hurt, he could still hit some good spots in you that made you a little less preoccupied by the way he was stretching you out so much.

But as usual, you got used to his size and soon you had his arm wrapped around your shoulder to keep you up on your feet and he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror. He was already pounding hard into you, making you moan uncontrollably and your mouth never shut. Even if you tried to look away from your reflection, Changbin would either slap your ass or redirect your face by firmly holding your chin.

"Never told you to look away, be grateful when I reward you," he'd growl into your ear as you'd whine and look in his eyes before looking back at your weak figure that was so well handled by your boyfriend's strong self.

Rubbing small cricles on your clit as he thrusted deep and hard into you made your legs shake and hold onto his arms so hard you'd probably leave marks because of your nails. He made you forget everything except how to call out his name, letting out loud and desperate moans as he occasionally grunted in your ear.

"Changbin, I'm gonna cum," you managed to say while he sucked on your neck.

“Wait a little more for me, can you? I'm almost there too," he thrusted even faster, letting go of your shoulders and bending you more so you'd hold onto the wall, right next to the mirror. His nails sunk into the skin of your ass as he spread your cheeks, watching himself going in and out of your soaked and abused pussy. The sight was almost heavenly to him, making him moan and slap your ass.

“You can cum, baby. Won't make you wait any longer.”

One hand let go of your ass to rub your clit once more, making you whimper and moan uncontrollably as you felt yourself coming closer to your orgasm.

The last high pitched moans you let out told Changbin you had reached your orgasm and as he was on edge, he slid out of you to release himself on your ass. His hand was still using your clit and you finally squirted, being once more overwhelmed by the pleasure.

"Holy fucking shit," he moaned as he rode out of his orgasm with you, observing your fluids flow out of your pussy. Both your minds were still way too foggy to care about the mess you'd made, so when he gave one last slap to your clit before letting go of you, you didn't mind letting yourself fall on the now dirty floor. 

He crouched in front of you and held your chin to look up at him, leaning in for a sloppy kiss.

"What do we say now?

- Thank you for the reward, Binnie," you answered with a fucked out smile.

[xuhuihuis]

Inked Up | Mark Lee

warnings: sub!reader, dom!mark, tattooartist!reader, sex in the studio, sucking him off, coming on your face, pet names

“Appointment for Lee?”

You shouted into the waiting room waiting for your next client and then saw a man get up from the couch at the window and greet you with a smile. He was rather tall, dressed in a black tank top that clung to his muscles showing how they flex with his every move. You couldn’t help yourself but look at how he was covered in hours worth of art from other artists getting lost in the bright colours and line work. 

He greeted you with a bright smile which made your heart flirt but no moves could be made on one another as that was the unprofessional thing to do…

“Can I ask your name?”

“Oh yeah! Sorry, it’s Mark by the way!”

Fuck his smile was beautiful seeing the way his eyes glimmered under his glasses. He may look intimidating but he was a nice person under all the ink covering his body. Walking up to your station in the corner of the open plan room behind the screen that was moved earlier in order to give you both privacy for today's tattoo.

Mark couldn’t hide the fact he was very nervous for the session ahead of him and the fact he has to be rock hard for this tattoo. Taking Viagra before he left his apartment and now his cock is sensitive but nothing was helping him, especially his jeans. Mark felt so restricted, so exposed, so vulnerable to the outside world or anyone watching him. The man mentally slapped himself when he saw how beautiful you are in person now you were going to be face to face with his raging thick cock. Sighing before getting onto the bed while you finish setting up next to him looking at the wall art on the four walls as a distraction before it was time…

“Can you take your pants and underwear off for me?”

He got up from the bed and turned his back to you before taking off his pants finally being fully exposed to you, there was no more hiding. Mark’s hands were shaking from anticipation sliding out of his jeans and underwear feeling like all eyes were on him but it was just you and him and one artist behind the screen at the other side of the room. He got back up on the bed and did his best to hide his raging boner from you. The sight of you with your hair up out of the way and glasses on him caused him to whine in frustration wanting this to end when the tattoo hasn’t even started. 

The man hissed as the cold from the stencil creme shot through his body tensing all of his muscles in shock. Mark couldn’t make eye contact with you from this point forward, it was his own fault booking an artist as beautiful as you rather than his normal artist as it would ‘make things awkward between them’. Your gentle touch on his cock drove him crazy leaving him aching for more letting his mind wander what you would look like with your lips wrapped around his fat tip licking up his pre cum. Once the stencil was on and ready to go Mark let out a sigh of relief.

“Just tell me if you need anything, ok?”

The man agreed with you instantly as you turned on the machine and started the painful process of tattooing his beautiful cock. You couldn’t deny he did have the perfect cock from the way it curved to the veins, it made you flustered as you were inches from it dreaming of how it is to have his cock rested on your tongue. Itching for just one lick…

Just one…

So far the session was going well, small talk was exchanged between you both and Mark held onto the arms of the chair when the pain was getting too much for him. He may be covered in tattoos but nothing compares to the suffering getting the most sensitive area tattooed. The sweat started dripping down his body from how anxious he was and it raised concern in you letting him take a break and get sugar back into his body. The TV above you both was playing a random show which Mark tried to keep his focus on the whole time and not look at you. 

The image of you being so close to his cock was never going to leave his mind and he just met you, the first tattoo ever with you and now he has to run away because he can’t keep his hormones under control making him feel like a teenage boy once again. 

Mark sat back on the bed ready to get started again but his cock has gone soft leaving him more embarrassed than he has ever been in front of someone. The blush covered his cheeks leaving him nowhere to hide from anyone that could see him in this vulnerable state. Your thoughts were running a hundred miles an hour at this point thinking if you should take the opportunity or not. The studio was now empty which was helping you make your decision swaying you towards the more risque option you had in mind. 

“Let me help you Mark…”

You cringed as you said the words out loud as you waited on some sort of reaction from him. He was stuttering over his words trying to string a sentence together but by the time he could say anything you were on your knees in front of him looking up into his eyes. Mark leaned down rubbing his thumb over the apple of your cheek before giving you the go ahead. 

“You know what to do angel”

Those were the last words he muttered down to you as he leaned onto his elbows watching how you choke on him. You took one long deep breath before letting your lips around the head of his thick cock tasting the bitter pre cum. His moans were beautiful filling up the empty room as your gloved hands wrapped around his length. Everything about the sight above you, one of the most attractive guys that has walked through the door of the shop now has his cock in your mouth moaning for you and only you. 

“Baby you are too good for me…”

The name sounded perfect as it rolled off his tongue perfectly, having its effect on you making your thighs rub together as you search for a way to get off while pleasing Mark. His glasses now sitting on the floor after they fell off he couldn’t care less about his glasses he just wants to spill his seed over your face. 

It didn’t take long for Mark to come to the much needed high he has been needing since he left his apartment this morning. Drool was running from the corners of your mouth and down your chin making it much more sloppy which Mark was loving. His eyes were rolled back into his head due to the intense pleasure he was feeling losing all sensation in his lower body. 

“I’m going to cum!”

That’s all it took for you to let him fall out of your mouth before jerking him off waiting for him to paint your face white. Closing your eyes waiting on it and moments later feeling the warm sticky load fall onto your cheek letting him empty himself onto your face ruining your makeup but you couldn’t care less. Rope after rope of warm thick cum covered your perfect face now you were claimed by Mark…

“Pretty girl just for me huh?”

@markleelately hope you enjoyed 🤭

[bratzforchris]

the piercer!johnnie fic made me think about a tattoo artist!reader x johnnie

Hello Kitty Tattoo

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Summary: In which you give Johnnie a surprise tattoo for a video<3

Pairing: Johnnie x tattoo artist!feminine reader

Warnings: Tattooing (?is that a warning?)

Word Count: 776

A/N: Thank you for the request!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

“Hey guys!” Johnnie smiled, waving to the camera. “So, today I’m gonna get a new tattoo. Shocker,” he fake gasped. “Only this one is going to come from my lovely girlfriend.”

You smiled and waved to the camera as Johnnie kissed your cheek. You were rather shy, seeing as how this was the first ever video you were filming with Johnnie. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m Johnnie’s girlfriend…and I’m also a tattoo artist.” You whispered quietly, but with a smile. 

You weren’t used to talking to a camera, which made your voice shake a bit and your cheeks flush. Johnnie kissed your cheek again, whispering words of encouragement. He knew whatever he didn’t want in the video, he could edit out. All that mattered to him right now was that you were comfortable. After all, this was his video and his career, despite your protests that you were okay with everything. 

“So before I get my tattoo, you guys are probably wondering how Y/N and I met since it’s her big reveal!” Johnnie became more animated as he talked about you. “Jake dared me to try a new tattoo shop while we were in Santa Monica and Y/N was the best in the area.” 

You blushed over his words, but made finger guns back at your boyfriend. “You know it.”

“The rest is history,” he chuckled, doing jazz hands. “But now, let’s get into the actual point of today’s video. Y/N is going to give me a tattoo of her choice. I don’t know if I should be excited or afraid.” Johnnie laughed. 

He panned his vlogging camera around your private room in the tattoo studio you owned with your best friend. It was the complete opposite of a typical tattoo parlor’s aesthetic, decorated with pink, Hello Kitty, and Marie from the Aristocats. 

“Johnnie,” You smiled, a devious look on your face as you waved to the camera. “I think you need a Hello Kitty tattoo.”

Your boyfriend panned the camera back to his face, making a loud squeal. “I’m being tortured by the Hello Kitty girl.” he said in one of his silly voices. 

“Sit down.” You playfully groaned, rolling your eyes. 

Johnnie sat on the tattoo bench, patiently waiting for you to design and decide where his tattoo should go. It didn’t take you long to write up a beautiful sketch; you’d been thinking about this tattoo idea for Johnnie for weeks, simply because it was a perfect combination of you both. You hadn’t known how to bring it up, though, until Johnnie proposed you tattooing him for a video. 

“Done!” You cheered. “Lift your shirt.” You instructed, smirking at the camera. 

“I’m scared, guys.” Johnnie told his vlog. 

You expertly placed the stencil on Johnnie’s hip, instructing him to close his eyes so he couldn’t peek. You prepared all the supplies you would need, planning on giving your boyfriend a fine line tattoo, which was much different than his usual style. 

“Alright, I’m putting the camera on the tripod now so Johnnie can’t peek and I’m going to blindfold him.” You were slowly getting more comfortable talking to the camera, which Johnnie would make for a chaotic video now and even more in the future. 

You set everything up, blindfolding Johnnie and making sure to clean the space and put on fresh latex gloves before speaking. “Are you ready?” You asked your boyfriend, firing up your machine.

He nodded quietly and giggled, mentioning something about ‘don’t draw a Barbie on me’. You began to work on the tattoo, speaking every now and then between you two, but mostly staying quiet so you could concentrate. It didn’t take you as long as you thought it would; only about two and a half hours in total with water and bathroom breaks. 

“Alright guys,” You panned the camera to the tattoo bed where Johnnie was still blindfolded and giggling. “Are you guys ready to see Johnnie’s new tattoo?”

“Yes!” Johnnie groaned. “Show me!”

You quickly wiped the new ink off, before removing Johnnie’s blindfold and smiling proudly as he glanced at your work. It was a Hello Kitty tattoo, but she was holding an electric guitar, mid head bang with dark eyeliner rimming her eyes and a skull bow. 

“I love it,” Johnnie laughed, kissing you deeply. “It’s perfect. The perfect combination of us.” 

“I’ve wanted you to get that tattoo for weeks. I was just waiting for the right time.” You smirked. 

And as you and Johnnie said goodbye to the video, you couldn’t help but to ask one of your artist friends to do the same design on your own hip.

[haruchi-slit]

INKED!

Synopsis →⁠_⁠→

Choso as your favorite tattoo artist

a/n: I should be doing stuff for pilot shit,still, im here writting unholy shits again, lord please forgive me.

Warnings: fem! reader, cream pie, dirty talks, pussy eating and many more

You booked an appointment about one month ago, you just couldn't help to get a new tattoo, but c'mon, we both know that you just want to fuck that hot tattoo artist, Choso, and you know that he's waiting for that moment too, with the smirk he's giving you while etching his machine to your skin, the way his hands with leather gloves brush thru your skin, his gaze, full of lust and desire and the way he press his body close to you in purpose.

You wanted to surprise him, once you got in his shop the place was empty, you assumed he closed the store for you, he greeted you with a cocky smirk,

"What's up Mamacita, haven't seen you in awile" he smiled with his eyes close, he's so cute yet, so hot.

You also greeted him with a cheeky smirk, and without hesitation you leaned to his ear. "I want a pussy tattoo.", he paused for a second and leaned much closer to you,

"Then what design are you up too, Mama?" He whispered,

"Freestyle on me, Choso" you said backing away slightly.

"Sure, mama, good thing i've got a few designs for 'ya." he proudly smiled, "c'mon, lay here like a princess" he added signaling you to sit on the leather chair

"Such a gentleman, are we Choso?" you snickered as you laid on the chair, you wore a skirt for an easy access since you were going to get a pussy tattoo after all. Choso already prepared everything he needs. You spread your legs open, revealing your purple panties,

"Purple?, my fave. Are you going to remove it by yourself or-" you shut him off by placing his hands to the hem of your panties, "O-oh! ok, mama" he said as he removed your panties, shoving it in his pocket, he stares at your slit for a couple of seconds,

"Do you like what you see?" you asked, as you waved your hand in front of his face.

"And what if i did hm?" he uttered, that caught you off guard, you weren't expecting him to flirt back, you smirked,

"C'mon then, try me Choso" adding more flame to the fire, your core was getting really exposed to the air, you can feel heat building up on your lower abdomen- your pussy unconsciously leaking just from the dirty talk between you, and, Choso.

"Dang, getting wet already? you're no fun mama" he growls

putting his printed stencil out, you jolted a little because of the sudden contact, his hands were big, and heavy, he placed it right on top of your clit, purposely rubbing his hand against your exposed clit, you squirmed under his touch.

he lets the stencil dry out for a moment and plugged his tattoo machine, he designed a very beautiful roses and torns, from your hips to your pussy, he then started to etch his machine on your skin, it hurted, but Choso was making his way up to you clit, purposely rubbing it, he just can't resist anymore, you squirmed under him, it was pure torture.

"Keep still mama, spread 'em wide for me will you?" He chuckled deviously, while gliding his machine to your body he roams his left hand on you pussy, going up and down to your clit and teasing your entrance, you were lost, your cunt spasming and clenching around air,

"-ah, Choso..! please" you finally broke your pride,

"hmm?" he's being cocky, he knows what you want, but seeing you beg? that's a whole different level, "Please..!"

your voice and legs was shaking, "oh, you mean this?"

he inserted his finger with leather gloves in your core,

"Ah! yes, yes Cho.." you moaned

"Keep still mama, im still giving you a tattoo" he laughed, while he glides his machine, he pushes his fingers in and out painfully slow, teasing you on purpose, he moves his hand on your clit playing with it like it's some sort of stress ball, he used his thumb to stimulate your body causing you to buck your hips and squirm once again, he turned of his machine since you were squirming all over the place, you grinded you his fingers uncontrollably chasing your high you were a mess, a mess for his touch, his finger still pleasuring your clit, he bends down to your pussy as he pulls you closer to his mouth "Gonna eat you s'good" he says under his breath as he latched his tongue in your pussy, his wet tongue moved in a normal speed slurping all of your pussy juices, spitting on it like an animal, eating your vagina like it was ugly.

An animal.

Brain already blank, just you and the pleasure he's giving you.

he pause, "So fucking good for me mama?" he said his voice a bit hoarse, he detached his mouth from your folds, a string of saliva connecting his mouth and your pussy.

"Choso, i was sooo close~!" you whined,

"Patients, be patient mama." he shushs you up "besides, the tattoo's still not done." he added, he plugged his machine again, but this time, he inserted his dick in your cunt, causing your tummy to show a lil bulge, his dick was kissing your cervix almost passing through your womb, you bit your knuckles in satisfaction it nearly turned white.

He then again, glides his tattoo machine over your skin you squirmed uncontrollably, "Keep still mama.." he says, his voice was low and a bit raspy, with that it sent shivers to your core, "Chosoo~nnn" you moaned, his dick still inside you, laying on your cervix, causing you to clench and palpitate around his dick, he hissed, "fuck..", as he continues finishing the tatto, but you just can't control your pussy spasming around him, it makes him go crazy.

"Fuck mama, think we gotta' overtime" he placed his tatto machine on the table as he threw your right leg on his broad shoulder and bucked his hips back and forth, it was so deep, your pussy remembers his dick shape, every curve and bulge, your pussy juice and his pre cum flowing down to your ass crack, it was heaven, his shop was filled with skin slapping, moans and groans, and his sweet litte praises on how you take his dick sooo goooodd!

He placed your leg down and turned you around.

"Bend over for me will ya'?" he says, which you complied fastly, you bent over for him, on the leather chair, he bends over to your pussy as he spreads it, slurping every drip and juice in it, dehydrating it, you moaned once again, after that he inserts his dick in, "Bend good for me mama." he muttered, his clearly lost and is chasing his high, you nodded in response as you popped your ass for him, for him to reach sooo deep in you.

Moans kept escaping your mouth, one after another,

"You like it when i fuck you this good mama?"

"Ahh-oh yea, yesss oh my god choso!" you squirmed buvking your hips back and forth, but he stops thrusting,

"shom me how you love my dick mama, i bet you we're dreaming on fucking me for months now, haven't you hm?" he says, with a hint of cockiness on his tone.

you whined, as you grind on his dick desperately, with every grind you make it makes his dick throb even more, you were grinding on him for a minute now, but you can feel him, twitching, he was close, so he starts thrusting again.

"so desperate for this cock mhm?"

"oh mhmmmm, Please! fuck me good!" you screamed

he pounded his dick in, you were close and he was too, you clenched your pussy on purpose as you release your high, and soon Choso followed, you catch deep breaths, as you look in his eyes, "well that was a good fuck" you chuckled, as you look on your pussy, it was already tattooed, a rose designed succubus tatto "oh look, it's cute" you say in awe

"Well it's desinged by me after all" he laughed as he pulls his dick out off you, your pussy was completely creampied. you pulled off tissues from the tissue box, you wipe your pussy, as Choso helps you and fixed your skirt, but somethings missing, oh right...

"C-choso..my panties?" you asked

"Oh, your panties?, Keeping them as souvenirs mama, y'know so i can jack on it later" he winks.

a/n: I was sleeping but my mom woke me up, and after that my whole day was ruined. Anyways please, please dm for request please dont be shyyyy!!

​

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Turtles x tattoo artist!reader

Got this idea after I read a Leo x tattoo artist on Wattpad. It was super cute, but as a tattooed person that has started tattooing my friends, I have to tell my fellow ff writers something that will make your tattoo ff more realistic. DON’T EVER REUSE NEEDLES!!!! WEAR GLOVES!!!!! ALSO WHEN YOU PUT ON A STENCIL!!!!!!! Hopefully I saved some turtles from an infected tattoo.

Enjoy!💙❤️💜🧡

Warnings: Needles, pain, tattooing, some of the turtles being cheeky, spelling.

—-----------------------------------------------

Leonardo:

As your last client of the day went out the door with their newest tattoo, you breathed a sigh of relief. The last few ones have been though. Unable to sit still, with a need to look at the tattoo several times while you were working on it, almost causing you to go outside of the lines. Not what you needed. But all the thought of irritation and frustration washed away, when you remembered; your boyfriend was coming to get a tattoo.

Last night, Leonardo had asked you if you would do a tattoo on him. You had obviously said yes, excited to finally tattoo your boyfriend. Leo was by far heavily tattooed, but he did sport a few on his arms, all symbolizing his brothers.

As you locked the front door, flipped the open sign to close and pulled the curtains, you could hear the back door that led to the alley, open and close. It was Leo. You rushed to the back door with a happy skip, and greeted your green boyfriend with a big smile. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and brought his face down to yours for a kiss.

“Hey”, you smiled.

“Hey”, he smiled back before giving you another kiss.

You brought him with you back into the main area of the shop, asking him what he wanted to get tattooed. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pockets and gave it to you. You unfolded it.

A katana. Simple black lines with minor shadowing. You were pretty sure that Leo had drawn this himself.

“Of course”, you chuckled, looking at the paper in your hand. “Where do you want it?”

“Right here”. Leo pointed to the side of his left forearm.

“That could actually be really good”, you said, studying his arm. Leo’s arm was nothing new for you. They had been wrapped around you so many times, that you knew them as well as the back of your own hand. But on the rarest occasions, had you thought about tattoo placements on his arm.

“I think we should size it up. Around… this big”. You measured out his arm, with one finger marking out just above his wrist and just below his elbow.

“Is that because you as a tattoo artist know it would look better, or is it because you as my girlfriend want an excuse to keep tattooing me for as long as possible?”, Leo asked with a smile.

“A little bit of both, I would say”.

“In that case, I think we should do it”.

To say that you were happy was an understatement. All your earlier tiredness and frustration flew out the window, as you went to your desk so you could draw the stencil. Leo followed you, and watched you intently while you drew over the stencil paper, tracing the outlines of his design.

“That’s not how Raph did it”, Leo said with a small chuckled, remembering the time he and his brothers did each other's tattoos, with a tattoo machine Donnie had made.

“How did Raph do it?”, you asked, smiling at the thought of what Leo had told you. Young turtle brothers sitting in the shared bedroom of their old lair, long after Master Splinter had gone to bed, tattooing each other like the young rebellious teenagers they once were.

“He drew it directly on me with a marker”.

“Doesn’t sound very sanetray”, you laughed. “Especially not in a sewer”.

“Nope. That is why I’m going to you from now on”, Leo said as he reached down to kiss your forehead.

With Leo’s stencil finished, you went to work preparing your station one last time that evening. You put on your gloves, wrapped the station in film, prepared the cream, poured the black ink, got your new needles and wrapped your machine for a better grip.

Leo watched you with those eyes that always made you blush, while you disinfected his arm, applied the transfer jell, and then placed the stencil. When you moved back and told Leo to look in the mirror, he didn’t move. Instead he just stared at you with those eyes and that little smile.

“I trust you. It looks good”.

Fighting your flustered face and biting down your lip, you moved Leo into the seat, before stretching his arm and moving it to an angle, so it would be easy for you. With that you started your machine and began doing his lines.

Leo - with his high pain tolerance - didn’t move a muscle, but instead just stared at you as you worked. You could feel his strong gaze on you, trying your hardest to focus on his tattoo in front of you.

You continued working in silence, with nothing but the sound of your tattoo machine being heard. Silence wasn’t new for you and Leo, nor did it make you uncomfortable. The two of you would often enjoy each other’s presence in silence, each doing your own thing, simply finding comfort in being near each other. Like him meditating or sharpening his katana, while you were drawing or reading. Just like right now. Leo admiring you while you were working.

After two hours of tense work on Leo’s arm, you finally finished. With a last whip over his arm, you wrapped it up, making sure it would be protected during the first stages of healing.

“So, what do you think?”, you asked Leo as he assessed the katana on his arm with warm eyes.

“It’s amazing”, he said, smiling bright. “You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

“You might have told me a few times”, you said as you started cleaning up.

Leo stood up from his seat and walked to you, before wrapping both arms around you, bringing his face down to yours.

“I love you, my amazing little tattoo”, he said, before letting your lips meet in a sweet kiss. And with that you knew, you would definitely tattoo Leo again.

Raphael:

Under normal circumstances, you would have said no to be doing a tattoo in the sewers. No way that wouldn’t get infected and heal probably. It was a tail made for disaster. But when your brute of a boyfriend asked you as nicely as he did, and promised you cuddles and a foot rub, there was no way you could say no. Especially not when he made those big teddy bear eyes that only you got to see. You just had to say yes.

So there you were in Raphael’s room, in the sewers deep below New York City, setting up a small tattoo station on his nightstand. Raphael stood right behind you fiddling with a football in his hands, watching you unpack your stuff with curiosity. Yes, he did have a tattoo, but one that was made with a machine Donnie had but together, not a real machine. So to see a real one in front of him for the first time, had his attention peaked.

“So”, you asked, checking the battery for your machine. “What were you thinking of?”

“A samurai”, Raph said with a small smile, as he spun the football in his hands.

“You and those damn samurais”, you chuckled and laid out your paper and stencil paper. “I thought that this time around you would like a ninja”.

“Maybe one day, on the other leg”, Raph said with a smug smile. “If this one goes right”.

“Well okay smart guy”, you laughed turning towards him. “Where on your leg do you want it”.

“I was thinking here”. Raphael laid the football on the ground before going to the outside of his right calf, measuring out from his knee to ankle.

“Do you want it to take up the whole side?”

“Of course”, Raph smiled. “It has to match”. He pointed towards the samurai on his shoulder.

“Just as black?”

“You know me baby”, he said, giving you that smug smile.

You bit back a smile, trying to fight back the blush that was creeping up your face. Damn Raphael and his smooth comments.

“Okay, I’ll do a sketch and you tell me what you think about it. If you like it, we can get tattooing”.

“Sounds like one of the best plans I’ve heard in a long time”, Raph said, still smiling like that smug fucker he is. But damn you loved that man.

As you got drawing on the sketch, Raph would walk in and out of his room, grabbing drinks and food from the kitchen, before returning. Every once in a while he would get up from his bed, just to give you a kiss on the cheek, wrap his arms around you, and look at how far you’ve gotten.

Raph loved your finished sketch, stating something along the lines of; “so far, so good”, just to annoy you.

With Raphael laying on his bed, with pants rolled up and wrapped around his knee and slightly turned to the side, you placed the stencil on the side of his muscular side calf. You had to admit, you were proud of your work so far. The artwork flowed with the curve, sway and size of Raph’s calf, showing it off.

As you started the machine and dipped the needle in the ink cup, Raphael got comfortable with his hands behind his back, still with his smug smile plastered on his face.

“Are you ready?”, you asked as you placed your other hand on his leg to spread the skin.

“Born ready”.

And with that statement from your boyfriend, you started working on the lines in his tattoo.

Raphael’s tattoo was big and detailed, which meant a lot of work. But not even 15 minutes into the tattoo, you saw Raph shifting and grimes for a split second, before pressing his eyes shut. Your tough boyfriend was breaking character.

“You okay there, Raphie?”, you asked with a sly smile, dipping the needle in the ink once more before going back in.

“Yup, I’m okay. More than okay actually”, he said, still with his eyes pressed shut.

“I hope so, because you know, the closer I get to your foot and the closer I get to your knee, the more it’ll hurt”.

“Ah fuck”.

“And that’s just the line work. I’ll have to go in afterwards and do filling and shadowing”.

“H- how long do you think all that will take?” Raph’s eyes now open, looking at you with a slight fear in his eyes.

“Well, with a tattoo this size and this detailed, easily four hours”.

“So only three more hours?”

“Raph, baby, we’ve only been going for 15 minutes”.

Raphael groaned loudly, grabbing onto the pillow behind his head. “Fuck me”.

“Later baby”, you laughed. “It won’t be a good idea while you have an open tattoo”.

Raph sighed. “(Y/N), I love you, but sometimes you’re annoying as fuck”.

“I love you too Raphie, and if it helps anything, I too find you annoying sometimes”, you smiled sweetly at him, causing Raph to bite back a smile, the same way he made you do not too long ago.

“And just so you know”, you continued while wiping ink away from Raph’s leg. “You still owe me cuddles and a foot rub afterwards' '.

Raphael exhaled loudly, face scrunching up as the needle went back over his skin. “I really didn’t think this through, did I?”

“Nope, not at all”.

Nevertheless, after four hours and many loud exclamations from Raphael that could be heard all throughout the lair, your boyfriend had gotten himself a new big tattoo. And if you had to be honest, it was pretty hot, and not just because you were the one that made it.

Donatello:

When Donatello had asked for you to tattoo him, you were kind of shocked to say the least. Your sweet, tech nerdy, genius of a boyfriend, who did not have a single tattoo on his beautiful green body, wanted you to tattoo him. You had to blink and ask him to repeat his request.

But Donatello was serious. He wanted a tattoo. He even offered to give you space in his lab, so you could set up a propper station, and that was an offer you just couldn’t refuse.

You had unpacked your station in Donnie’s lab, currently drawing the design Donnie had given you onto transfer paper, while he was taking a closer look at your tattoo machine.

“It’s very different from the one I made”, Donnie noticed, turning it in his three fingered hands. 

“How did you guys even do it back then?”, you asked, eyes still on the drawing.

“Well, I made the machine, and the guys had several designs”, he said, thinking back to the old days in the old lair with a smile. “We all got a turn tattooing Leo”.

You chuckled, finding the thought amusing. Stupid and reckless, but amusing nonetheless.

“Where did you get ink from?”

“A pen. Many pens actually”. He placed your machine on the table, before taking a seat next to you, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder, looking at your hand working. “We broke open the pens and poured it into a solo cup”.

“That is really not sanitary”, you laughed, leaning your head to the side, so your temple was pressed against Donnie’s forehead.

“No, it really isn’t”, he laughed, nuzzling his face closer to yours.

“Now Donnie”, you said, nodding towards the drawing in front of you. It was a design of a turtle, somewhat like the one Leo and Mikey shared, but with its own intricate design around it. “What is the meaning behind this, and why do you want it?”

“Well, it is a turtle, so much is obvious”, Donnie said, causing you to nudge him slightly. “And well, it just felt like it was about time. I just finally want a tattoo. And me being the lucky guy that I am, have a tattoo artist as a girlfriend, so it just seemed obvious”.

“Well, that is enough reasoning for me”.

You finished the stencil and put on gloves, getting ready to prep Donnie’s skin with disinfectants.

“The shoulder is one of the easiest places”, you told him, as you smoothed the paper over his shoulder. “Many people experience that the shoulder hurts way less than any other places”.

“Did yours hurt?”, Donnie asked, nodding towards the tattoo on your shoulder. He had looked at it so many times, often wondering how you felt while getting it. It was probably one of the main reasons why he hadn’t gotten a tattoo yet; the fear of it hurting. Especially after he saw the way Mikey and Raph reacted to their tattoos back then.

“Not at all”, you said, peeling the paper back from his skin, leaving back purple lines for you to follow. “I almost fell asleep during mine. Now, take a look in the mirror and tell me what you think”.

Donnie went to the mirror and took a look at his shoulder, before turning to you with a smile.

“It looks great”, he said.

“Then sit down good sir, and let me get started on you”, you said, opening a new needle with your gloved hands.

Donnie sat down like you told him to, and watched as you got the needle ready. You turned on the machine, dipping it into the ink cup while it hummed. You placed your other hand on Donnie’s shoulder, spreading his green scaly skin.

“Remember, you can always tell me if you need a break or if you're getting uncomfortable. Keep your breathing calm and level, and it will save you from a lot of unnecessary stress. And with that in mind, are you ready?”

Donnie nodded with a small smile. “I’m ready”.

You let the needle brace Donatello’s skin, watching for any reaction by your boyfriend, showing any discomfort.

“Okay, that is not as bad as I thought it would be”, he said, turning his head slightly to look at the needle.

“It’s rarely that bad”, you told him, wiping the first line. “Trust me. I still get surprised every time I get tattooed”.

Donnie chuckled, imagining the scene of you in a tattoo shop.

As time went on, and as you were half way through the tattoo, you noticed the first signs of discomfort from your boyfriend.

“Okay, I can feel it now”, he said, grimacing slightly. “It is not bad, but it’s more. I’m not sure how else to describe it”.

“Don’t worry. We’re halfway done”, you said, dipping the needle in the ink cup. “But I will recommend that you take it easy afterwards and get a good night's sleep”.

“I will if you stay and keep me company”.

“Well, you don’t have to ask me twice”, you said, wiping the tattoo down one more time.

It didn’t take long before you finished the tattoo, smearing cream over it before wrapping it up. Donatello seemed slightly shocked by it.

“Are you done already?”, he asked, looking at his new tattoo under the plastic wrap.

“Yeah, it was not a super complicated tattoo”, you laughed, as you started to clean up after yourself. “And you’re really easy to tattoo. That only made it quicker”.

“Well in that case”, he said and stood up, before wrapping his arms around from behind. “Would you like to start that good night’s sleep a little earlier?”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do”, you said, pulling your tall boyfriend down to you for a sweet kiss.

Michelangelo:

Bless your boyfriend and his kind, sweet, beautiful, helpful heart. What he wouldn’t do for you? Nothing. He would do everything and even more if you asked for it, also if you didn’t ask for it. And that was the nature of Mikey. Showing his love for you in spontaneous and caring ways, that not even you had expected. Such as volunteering for you to practice your tattooing, after hearing you talk about how much you wanted to practice.

And that was what led up to you and Mikey sitting on your couch, talking about the best place for you to tattoo him.

“I don’t know, baby”, you said, pressing your fingers against Mikey’s upper stomach. “I’ve never tattooed a plastron before”.

“Don’t worry Angelcakes, it will be fine”, Mikey said with a bright smile. “It will just be right here”, he said, gliding his finger over the top of his stomach, to outline the placement.

“But can a needle even get through that?”, you asked, pressing a little firmer against his plastron. You knew how firm Mikey’s plastron was. You had found yourself being pressed against it so many times, that you had familiarized yourself quite well with it at this point. But the thought of poking a needle through it had never crossed your mind.

“I don’t know. Maybe? There’s truly only one way to find out”.

“But baby, what if I break your plastron instead?”

“It’ll heal. Have you already forgotten this beautiful body as mutagen running in it? I can heal in no time!”

“But”, you said in thought. “Aren’t your shell and plastron also bulletproof?”

“But Angelcakes!”, Mikey pouted. “It could be so sick with a tattoo like that! I would look so good!”

“But you already look good Mikey”, you giggled.

“I know but still”.

You sighed. It was no use trying to argue with him about it. It would take either your needle or his plastron cracking slightly before he would drop the topping, so therefore you finally agreed with your silly turtle of a boyfriend.

“Yes!” Mikey fist pumped the air before giving you a quick kiss. “I knew you couldn’t resist the thought of me with a stomach tattoo!”

You laughed, shaking your head, before going to your room to find your supplies. Mikey already had a very clear idea of what he wanted. He wanted he and his brothers’ birth year of 1999 tattooed over his plastron, in good old gothic lettering. It actually relieved you that he hadn’t chosen anything more detailed. You just wanted to practice, not rival his name sake.

It didn’t take long before you had finished the stencil and placed it on your boyfriend, before telling him to go look at it in the mirror. You couldn’t help but smile, as Mikey started posing in front of the mirror. The 1999 on his plastron, still dark purple from the stencil ink.

“Yup! I like it! Lets go!”, Mikey said, jumping back towards you with a big smile. “I’m ready!”

“You cute goofball”, you laughed, guiding him towards your couch. “Come and lay down”.

Michelangelo did as you told him, and laid down on his shell, with his hands comfortably behind his head, watching with a smile as you sat yourself down. That smile could easily make butterflies erupt in your stomach, and it did so in that very moment, right as you dipped your needle in the ink.

To your surprise, the needle glided over Mikey’s plastron easily. It was almost easier than on real skin, and closer to the fake skin you usually would practice on. You didn’t even had to spread the surface with your other hand. Mikey seemed to enjoy himself.

“Do you feel anything?”, you asked, wiping the tattoo. It stayed pretty well.

“I can feel it, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s a little strange to be honest”.

“Strange or not, I still think you're cute”.

Mikey smiled, hinting at you to come closer. You removed the needle from his plastron and leaned closer to his face, before being met by him in a sweet kiss. You giggled before returning to his plastron to continue his tattoo.

“I am the luckiest man and turtle in this world”, Mikey then said. “I have the hottest girlfriend there is, and she makes some pretty awesome tattoos. I’ll say I got the best of both worlds”.

You giggled, shaking your head one more time, feeling a blush grow on your face. What did you do to deserve this guy?

With Mikey not feeling any pain from his tattoo, and the fact that you didn’t have to spread anything or do much, it didn’t take long before Mikey’s plastron tattoo was finished. You were throwing the used needle out in the kitchen trash can, when suddenly a question popped into your head.

“How long does it take for your plastron to heal?”

“Not long”, Mikey answered, drinking casually from a Capri Sun by your side, poking slightly at the new numbers on his front. “I think it will be healed by tomorrow”.

“So you don’t need any aftercare at all?”, you asked, pulling his hand away from his tattoo.

“Depends”, he started, placing the Capri Sun on the counter, before wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his face closer to yours. “What kind of aftercare are we talking about?”

“Dork”, you laughed.

“Hey, don’t deny what we both know will happen”, he said, getting ever closer to your lips.

“When your tattoo is healed, Mikey”.

“Oh well, would you look at that”, Mikey said, pointing towards his plastron. “I’m already healing”.

After that night, Mikey would definitely be asking for more tattoos from you.

—-------------------------------------------------

I need another tattoo soon…

[itsscromp]

Ink me up

As per the recent poll, It's time to give our favourite soldier a brand spanking new tattoo, courtesy of his bestie. Co-credit:@callofdudes Word count:988

Before joining the army, You had a dream of becoming a tattoo artist, Wanting nothing more then to create amazing drawings and be able to do this for many people who wanted it. You even went and took classes on how to do so. But though you were now with the 141, You wouldn't change it either way, You still had that desire.

Finding online a professional tattoo kit, you ordered that and some ink too to mail to the base, Once arriving you set it all up. The knowledge of what you learnt in college never leaves you. As if it was all second-hand nature.

Simon you knew had a lot of tattoos, his whole sleeve wrapped in them, Maybe you could be able to give him a tattoo. So you got up and went to go find him. "Simon come check this out !!" You ushered him back to your room once you found him.

"What's got you all excited mate ??" He raised an eyebrow as he entered the room, Seeing the kit in front of him.

"I bought a tattoo kit online, I used to do them back in college" You smiled proudly.

He tilted his head slightly, a little confused "And what do you plan on doing with it ?? Give yourself a wonky little heart on your hand ??" He chuckled.

"If you'll be happy to know Riley, I have gotten solid good grades from classes and my clients" You smirked at him playfully. Having had work experience at shops too.

"Oh, I didn't know you had some experience, Good for you then. But I still don't know what you plan to do with it though" He looked over at the kit.

"Well, I was hoping I could give you guys tattoos, Maybe you as well, add a new one to your collection."

"Really ?? Is that your plan ??" He chuckled.

"Well, if you want too. I can set it up and we can do it now" You smiled proudly.

He contemplated it, He did want a new tattoo, But he didn't know what he wanted to get. "It depends what kind of dumb thing you'd try to put on my skin"

"As the client you have every choice on the design"

He smirked, Starting to consider it. "Ok, what can you do ??"

You then pulled out a tattoo book you ordered as well and handed it to him. "Have a look through this and we'll go from there."

"Your being professional about this" He said as he skimmed through the book.

"I can be unprofessional if you want" You smirked before snickering "Come on, like I would ever do something like that."

He smirked "I'm not taking any chance in letting you putting some wanky shit on my body" Joking.

"Oh come on si, Please ??" You pouted and gave him your signature puppy dog eyes. Simon knew you would pull the trick and tried to resist....... Oh but how can he refuse his bestie !!!!

So sighing and points at the tattoo he wants. "It's dumb but there is no way you could possibly fuck this up."

"Ok, let's get to it" You smiled and set up the machine "Ok, so where would you like it ??"

Simon pulled off his sweater and rolled up his right sleeve, relaxing in the chair you brought in. "I'll let you put it on my bicep... Don't. Fuck it up" He smirked.

"I won't, trust me" You created the stencil and put your gloves on, Rubbing the alcohol on Simon's bicep and placed the stencil on.

"Ok, let's get to work" You started up the machine, dipping the needle in the ink and got underway. Simon watched on as you pressed the needle against his skin gently, careful not to hurt him. He was really impressed with your skill as an artist. "You never told me you could tattoo" He watched on.

"Never underestimate me Simon" You said, not losing focus on the sketch at hand.

"I'll keep that in mind"

After about a couple of hours on the stencil. "Ok, onto the shading"

Swapping out the needle and dipping it back into the ink, You began to shade the tattoo, Simon continued to watch as you worked, The shading making the tattoo come to life. "You're doing better than I thought you would"

"Had a dream of doing this as a career before the military, It was just hard to find a vacant position at any shop, And I wasn't going to start my own business" You chuckled.

And after a few more hours, the tattoo was complete. "And done" You smiled.

"Wow, I would expected to have heard about this earlier, I'll admit I'm a little hurt" He smirked, shifting in the chair a little.

"Better late than never" You then pulled a mirror out and showed Simon the finished artwork.

Inspecting it, Damn you did a great job on this. He started to smile under his mask.

"You like it ??" You said a little nervously.

"Well would you look at that" He looked up at you.

"It's good huh ??" You perked up proudly.

"It's better than I had expected, It can stay on my skin"

"That's the point of a tattoo" You snickered.

"Yeah but this doesn't look like crap" He smiled and inspected it again.

You were insanely proud of your work.

"You know... Even if it looked like shit, I'd still like it. Because you made it, And it looked pretty cool I wont lie."

"Yeah ??"

"Yeah, I like it a lot, Mostly cause you put it there"

Y/n was so happy Simon loved his brand new tattoo, You soon became his artist after that, Always coming up with new designs for him, The kit was a very well made purchase.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board