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fictionismyreality3 · 4 months

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Hold Still

Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: Tattoo Artist!Bucky, innocent!reader if you squint, sorta mutual pining, comfort, fluff

Warnings: tattoos and everything that comes with them

Word Count: 3k

Notes: EEEEEE this is my first oneshot on this blog 🥳 as always not really proofread im not sorry 🤓 I wanted to add like grumpy x sunshine underlines and BARK BARk tattoo artist Bucky 😩🙏🏻 Peace out my homies ✌🏻

The sound of your shoe tapping against the checkered linoleum floor tile filled the waiting room of "Brooklyn's Best Tattoos". It was raining outside and the streets were quiet aside from the occasional horn of an angry driver or a street seller trying to get their final deals for the day. Your bright yellow umbrella stood out against the walls of chipped black paint and a smokey atmosphere.

You kept your gaze flitting about the room, landing on the magazines on a coffee table and stickers placed haphazardly across various furniture. The few people sitting across from you reflected the vibe of the tattoo shop perfectly. Darkly eccentric clothes, skin painted with ink, and a tired look to their eyes.

When you had booked this tattoo appointment you didn't know what to expect. And now, sitting with an awkward stiffness in the hardbacked waiting room chair, you began to question your decision. How embarrassing would it be if you just got up and left? Surely you could get a refund?

It had been 3 months since your Grandpa Henry had passed away, and you didn't want his existence to be some fleeting memory, you had to get something permanent for him. You had been planning on getting some art commission to hang up in your apartment, but that fantasy was quickly dashed by your rather thin wallet.

Even though it was a leap in your confidence, you settled on getting a tattoo. For the past few weeks, the nerves have been building up as you spent your free time researching tattoo shops and what a tattoo would even feel like.

The idea of having your skin permanently marked by something that could end up horrible to look at was more than a bit troubling. That's why you settled on something small and somewhere inconsequential. Sorry Grandpa, but you're going to have to be content out of the spotlight.

Calling the shop was the easy part. It was effortless to talk to the nice lady on the phone about your ideas and listen to her babble on about the latest news. But, now that you were sitting in the waiting room, anticipating the pain of the needles that were soon to be in your skin, you couldn't help but squirm in your seat.

You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts as a woman with tawny skin and bright, neon-pink hair came into the waiting room and called over another young woman to follow her. They walked into the back, or wherever they kept the tattoo rooms, and you noticed with a sigh the ease at which the young woman walked towards inevitable pain.

"Are you the 6 o'clock?" A familiar voice broke through your haze of thoughts. You vaguely placed it as the woman you spoke to on the phone when you booked you an appointment.

Scanning her over, you took in her friendly smile and ostentatious (and probably fake) jewelry, putting a face to the voice. "Yeah, that's me." You answered after a second.

She smiled brightly. She had an almost motherly look to her and a warm and comforting demeanour. Looking around at the peeling linoleum floor, the sticker-covered walls, and the various riff-raff who were inking memories and stories onto their skin, you had a passing thought that she was like the empress of the little tattoo parlour. Her beads and glued-on rhinestones would make a marvellous crown.

You had a quick discussion about price and confirmed what you were getting and then she led you down a short hallway and into a room. As you broke the threshold your ears were filled with 40s music and the soft, low sound of a man humming along. Your eyes drifted over to the source of the voice, who soon spun his stool around to reveal an alarmingly handsome face. Bright blue eyes met yours and your heart did a little somersault in your chest.

"Don't you worry, baby. This is Bucky, he'll take real good care of you." She patted your back and drifted back out of the room, her ebony skin disappearing down the hallway and out of view. As you stood awkwardly near the door, your gaze took in the rest of the room. It was dark and moody, and you figured that each artist must get to decorate their studio to their liking. The cart holding the ink, needles and other supplies stood next to one of those lay-down chairs that the person getting tattooed sits in. The man, Bucky, was already looking at you when you met his gaze again.

"Nervous, huh?" He chuckled lowly.

Your cheeks lit up in a hot blush as you were suddenly aware of how long you had been spacing out. "This is my first tattoo. Why? Was it that obvious?" You asked.

"Pretty obvious, yeah. S'okay. Why don't you sit down for me?" He grinned.

Ignoring the way his voice was like butter, you hopped up on the chair in the middle of the room. The leather was soft against your skin and you traced the tiny cracks in the fabric with your fingers, thinking about how many people had sat there before you. Rolling his stool over to the side of your chair, he grabbed a sketchbook from the cart next to you.

"So, what are you thinking of?" He asked casually as his eyes focused on you.

"I wanted to get an anchor for my grandpa." As you spoke, you got out your phone, pulling out the inspirational photos you had been endlessly looking over, tilting the screen so he could see. You watched as he scrutinized the photos, his brow furrowed in focus as if he was translating the pixels to ink in his mind.

After a second, he looked back up at you with a lazy grin. "Yeah, I can do that no problem."

He was already reaching over for his pens to start sketching the drawing onto transfer paper, and your eyes followed the careful movements, tracing the ink that covered his arms. There was barely an inch of uncovered skin.

The whole drawing took less than fifteen minutes, and the silence was comfortably filled with Bucky rambling about when he got his first tattoo. His low, slightly raspy voice covered you like a blanket, settling over you and calming your nerves. By the time he was finished with the sketch, you had already begun to warm up to him, making small talk that was somehow not awkward.

As he showed you the final version of the sketch, your nerves were calmed even more. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. You talked placement and sizing until the time finally came for the sketch to be transferred onto your skin.

"Alright, so.. on your thigh?" He said warmly.

"I read that it was one of the less painful areas." You said as you ran your fingers over your skin which was soon to be filled with ink. You had worn a skirt so that you didn't have to change or lose any modesty. The last thing you wanted was to flash your tattoo artist, especially now that you got one who was incredibly hot.

"Smart girl." He muttered in passing as he prepped the transfer paper.

You were sure it was just a casual expression, but you couldn't fight the way your cheeks flushed at the compliment. No sooner than you had that thought, Bucky had rolled his stool back over to the chair and had the transfer in his hand.

"Can I?" He asked expectantly.

You looked at him confused for a second before you caught up and inched your skirt up so he could transfer the tattoo onto your thigh.

"Right. Sorry." You watched the way he chuckled to himself as he pressed the sketch into your skin. His hands were warm even through the black latex gloves.

He started getting his needles and ink prepared and you fell back into easy conversation. "Why the anchor? Is your 'pops navy or something?" He asked curiously.

"He was, yeah." You said softly.

You didn't miss the way his hands, which were going through the motions of prepping the tattoo gun as if they had done so a million times before, stilled for just a second. His jaw ticked and he cleared his throat and resumed his preparations.

"Sorry for your loss. My family is army." He said quietly after a moment. You took the distraction of his past eagerly, wanting to think of something other than your Grandpa.

"Are you?" You asked carefully.

"I was, yeah. Now I do this." He said and gestured around the room. "You ready?"

Your awareness was suddenly brought back to the impending pain you were about to feel as your eyes locked on the tattoo gun hovering closer and closer to your skin. Your heart rate spiked as a pang of anxiety ran through your chest and your thoughts began to spiral. How long would it take? How much would it hurt? What if it got infected? As if he could sense your suddenly fearful thoughts, Bucky lowered the tattoo gun.

"Hey, it'll be fine. I've been doing this for years and you chose a really small design. It'll be over before you know it." He spoke reassuringly.

With a nod from you, he raised the tattoo gun, one hand on your thigh to steady himself, and made the first line. The pricking pain hit you instantly. It was sharp and stung like you were getting a vaccination or blood drawn. You always had a low pain tolerance, and don't know why that piece of knowledge decided to hide in your brain until now. If you knew it would have hurt this much, maybe you would have changed your mind. A whimper bubbled past your lips embarrassingly. Bucky's eyes darted up to yours, his brows furrowed with a little too much concern for someone you just met.

"Hey, hey, hey.. deep breath. You're okay. That's it…" He cooed soothingly.

You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands and tried to mimic the way Bucky was breathing. Even though he was actively tattooing you, he kept his hand on your skin, watching your expression carefully. It was big enough to cover the entire width of your thigh. The latex of his glove suddenly felt far too thin. When he was satisfied you reached somewhat of a calmer state, he resumed his work, the needles pricking your skin once more.

"Alright, sweetheart, let's get this done." He muttered, almost to himself.

You closed your eyes to distract yourself, but it only made you more focused on the pain of the tattoo gun. But then the pain was paired with the calming touch of Bucky stroking the skin of your thigh with his steadying hand. Your eyes peeked open to the sight of him focusing, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. Well, that's certainly distracting. You were all too aware of the way your skirt was pushed up. Even though it was for the sake of the tattoo, it was beginning to feel far too hot. As if he could feel your eyes on him, Bucky's gaze snapped up to yours and you quickly looked away.

The silence was filled with the quiet buzzing of the tattoo gun and Bucky humming along to the music playing on the radio. You were doing okay. You were gritting your teeth and bearing through it, not wanting to embarrass yourself further in front of your stupidly attractive tattoo artist. But it was late and you were getting tired. The pain was steadily growing from a dull ache into an overwhelming sting. You didn't even realize you were whining until the needles were no longer pricking your skin and Bucky was putting the tattoo gun down.

"Shh, it's okay, princess. We can take a break, yeah?" He said gently.

His hands were on your thighs as he rubbed your skin comfortingly, and you couldn't help but want to whine for a different reason.

"How much longer?" You asked with a wavering voice. Bucky's eyes softened, and he glanced at the half-finished anchor on your thigh and back up to you.

"We're almost done. You ready to get going again?" He asked as he picked up the tattoo gun.

Not trusting your voice, you elected simply to nod. As the pain returned, your nails dug into the leather of the chair, and you wondered if that's where the cracks you saw earlier came from. You knew you were beginning to get shaky, and even though you read about it during your anxious preparation, it was still upsetting. You looked around the room, trying to take your mind off the literal needles that were stabbing into you hundreds of times per second. Maybe you could distract yourself from figuring out the darkly gorgeous man tattooing you.

He kept the lights of the room low, probably to keep people calm, and the posters on the walls were at least nice to look at. There was a pair of dog tags hanging off a lamp on the desk in the corner, and you chalked that up to his army past. There were some plants, but the only one still alive was the cactus on the windowsill. But, you couldn't preoccupy yourself for long. Every time you thought you were getting used to the pain, a new wave of discomfort would hit you, leaving you whimpering in the chair. Your breath was getting a little shallow, and your other leg started bouncing to release some pent-up energy.

Bucky's hand which was comfortingly rubbing the thigh that he was tattooing shot out and grabbed your other leg, his fingers gripping your skin so firmly, the sudden sensation distracted you enough that your squirming stilled.

"Fuck, you gotta hold still, dolly." He rasped. "How 'bout you tell me about your 'pops?"

His voice was strained and you bit your lip to stifle a whimper. Your skirt was pulled up enough that his hand on your non-tattooed leg was high enough to be considered intimate. At least, it certainly felt that way to you. He squeezed your thigh, focusing your attention back on him, before he put it back on the leg he was tattooing.

"Talk, princess. You're almost done." He commanded softly.

The pain was still at the forefront of your mind, but now it was fighting with the heat in your core that was slowly growing.

"Um.. he was a sailor. He.. his name was Henry." You began to recall fond memories of your Grandpa, and the pain of the tattoo slowly faded into a manageable ache.

"That's a good girl. Keep talking, sweetheart." He muttered quietly.

The praise made your breath hitch and the sound that fell from your lips wasn't from pain anymore. The only sign that he noticed your breathy whine was the little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"And… all done." He announced.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun ceased and Bucky had already put it down, as if the tattoo never even happened. The only evidence of what you'd struggled through for the last hour was the perfectly executed anchor on your skin and the dull ache of your thigh. Bucky had already moved back over to you and was starting to clean and wrap your leg. His hands brushed the skin of your inner thigh, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, his eyes flickering over to you for a moment. There was that smirk again.

"That's it?" You asked breathlessly.

"That's it. You did so well, princess." He said as he finished wrapping your thigh. After putting his supplies back onto the cart, he pulled your skirt back down almost protectively, his hands lingering a little too long to be professional.

"Here. You even get a lollipop for being such a good girl." He grinned as helped you off the chair, his hand brushing yours as he handed you the candy.

He said the praise so casually, but it still sent your head spinning and your cheeks burning with a dusting of pink.

"Thanks…" You mumbled.

"You can pay at the front. Call us if you have any questions. Be safe, princess." He said as his eyes drifted down to your thigh.

Your heart sank as you kicked yourself for thinking there was even a sliver of attraction that he felt for you. Obviously, the hot tattoo artist must get girls fawning over him all the time, you weren't anything special. Biting back a frown, you nodded and thanked him one more time before heading back up to the front of the store to pay. The friendly babbling of the same dark-skinned woman who had taken you to Bucky's tattoo room went in one ear and out the other. Your head was way too messy to pay attention.

After thanking the staff one more time, you grabbed your umbrella and coat and headed back out into the rainy Brooklyn streets. As you walked back to your apartment, your thoughts endlessly drifting back to Bucky, you pulled the lollipop out of where you'd put it in your pocket. If you couldn't have him, at least you had candy. Just as you were about to mindlessly crumple up the wrapper, you noticed something scrawled in pen on the plastic. It was an address and a phone number.

'Dinner this weekend. Don't be shy, doll.' It read.

You stopped in your tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the dirty looks of the pedestrians who nearly walked into you, smiling like an idiot. It wasn't even written as a question and you could hear his low, slightly raspy voice saying the words in your head. The ache in your thigh, the ache in your heart, and even the now permanent marking on your body were all worth it. You had the passing thought that maybe your Grandpa was setting you up from wherever he was.

"Thanks, Grandpa.." You whispered to yourself and walked home with a spring in your step.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #oneshot #tattoo artist!bucky

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 1 year

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TattooArtist!Bucky vibes

You’re Bucky’s favourite client, and he always gives you a private tattooing session which, in the end, always leads to rough and nasty sex.

moodboard masterlist

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pinkiebieberpie · 2 years

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tattoo artist!bucky

bucky moodboards list

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes moodboard #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #tattoo artist!bucky #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan x y/n

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marvellous1917 · 10 months

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Icarus

(Part 1)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.

Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it

A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?

————

“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.

“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.

“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.

“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.

“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”

“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.

“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.

“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”

“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.

The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.

He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.

“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.

He moved his left hand to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.

The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.

“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.

“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.

“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?

“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.

“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.

“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.

“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.

“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.

“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.

“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”

“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth

“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.

“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.

“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”

“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”

“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.

“Could you give him some more time?”

He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.

“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help your friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.

“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.

“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”

“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.

The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.

“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?

“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.

“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.

“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.

“Can I see it?”

“…sure,” the word came out as a question.

He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.

“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.

Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.

“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.

“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.

“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design

He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.

“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.

“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.

“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.

“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.

“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.

He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.

“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.

The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.

“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.

“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.

“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.

“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.

“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”

“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.

“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”

“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.

“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.

Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.

“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.

Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”

“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.

“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.

He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”

“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted

“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.

This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.

“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.

It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.

James:

Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.

It makes me feel ancient.

I hate that.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #mob!bucky #bucky barnes #mob!bucky fic #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #tattoo artist!reader

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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And Everything Nice

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You visit the tattoo parlor when an uninvited guest shows up at the bakery. Word Count: Over 2.8k Warnings: Bad ex, mild (h)arassment, protectiveness, brief moments of insecurity, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics . Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: More Hottie and Sugar from our Sin on Skin AU. ❤️ Thank you to @rookthorne for listening to me ramble about this part! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

I am going to ask Bucky Barnes out.

After going through the closing checklist, Tess gave you another quick pep talk and said the only thing that would hurt if he turned you down was your pride. Deep down you knew it would hurt more than your pride if he said no, but you didn't say it out loud. She must have sensed it since she added she was certain he'd jump at the chance to date you.

"You got this," she said, giving you a quick hug. "Sorry to run, but-"

"Like I said, I got this," you said, waving her on. Normally you walked out together when you both closed the bakery, but she had somewhere to be. "Have fun!" you added as she rushed out.

Once you finished up a few minutes later, you strode to the door with your keys in hand and a smile on your face. Tomorrow was going to be a good day. You could feel it. And you would look Bucky in the eye with a smile as you asked him-

"Closing all by yourself?"

You weren't sure how you managed to not drop your keys, or not throw a punch, when you spun around and saw your ex in your personal space. You wanted to wipe the smirk off his face when you took a deep breath. "Thanks for sneaking up on me, Richard. Mind backing up a little?"

"Aww, did I scare you?" he asked as you quickly locked the door. "Not even a 'hello'?"

"We haven't talked since we broke up," you reminded him. "But hi and bye."

Richard charmed you in the beginning when you met him, like he did with so many others. Beyond his good looks, he was a confident man. It didn't take long to see that beneath the surface was a spoiled man child who was used to getting what he wanted, or thought he could buy everything. You included.

Breaking up with him was one of the best decisions you made, even if your mom disagreed.

"Where are you going in such a hurry? You should get a drink with me."

"I have plans," you lied, wondering what the hell he was even doing there.

"So? Break them. I want to talk."

The suggestion sounded more like an order and you weren't in the mood.

"I said I have plans. I'm sorry."

"Then why are you still in your work clothes?" he asked, gesturing to your outfit. "And who do you have plans with? Some new guy?"

"Because I'm changing later," you said, staring across the street as a smile spread on your face. "And not that it's any of your business, but yes. He's a tattoo artist."

You weren't sure why you said that. Maybe because you hoped Bucky really would be your guy. And because the thought of him also made you feel safe.

You half expected Richard to laugh as you walked around him, but he put his hand on your arm instead as his face twisted into a scowl. "You're not hanging out with him. You're getting a drink with me."

You wrenched your arm away before he could tighten his grip. "We aren't together anymore. So you don't get to show up out of nowhere and order me around," you said as you went to the curb.

"Don't act like a fucking brat when I'm trying to give you another chance."

I'm the brat?

"Not interested. Have a good night!" you said before you looked both ways and dashed across the street to Bucky's shop.

The entrance was cozier and more open than you expected, the sound of the needles bringing you a strange sense of comfort as you adjusted your bag on your arm. Pictures of various tattoos in different styles lined the red walls above the front desk and leather couches. You wished you had the time to pick out which works belonged to Bucky.

Another day.

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" the man behind the desk cheerfully greeted you as he typed on the keyboard. Even sitting down, you could tell the man was built, his muscular arms covered in a variety of tattoos. He may have been intimidating if not for the glasses and warm smile. "Do you have an appointment?"

You glanced over your shoulder and saw your ex making his way across the street. "Sorry, I don't. Is Bucky here? I really need to talk to him."

"Oh, yeah. Just over there. If you want to take a seat, I can-"

"Thank you. I'll be quick," you smiled, hoping Bucky wasn't in the middle of an appointment.

You glanced around at some of the other artists as you walked over to the chairs and noted how exceedingly gorgeous they were. There was one with short dark hair and a beard that looked like he could kill someone with his tattoo gun if they stared for too long. The girl sitting at his station and the man behind him with shocking pink hair and bright smile both brought a ray of warmth to his almost dark aura.

Is it a prerequisite to work in the shop that you have to be good looking? And either look intimidating as hell or incredibly alluring?

You gripped your bag to keep your hand from shaking as you saw Bucky engaged in a quiet conversation with Steve, recognizing him from earlier. You were almost afraid to interrupt. "Hi?"

Both men turned toward you with smiles on their faces as Bucky pushed himself up from his stool. “Hey, Sugar. Couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see me?”

"Something like that," you said.

"Wait. That's Sugar?" the man with the pink hair asked. "No wonder you keep going to the bakery."

"Don't hit on her, Hal," Bucky warned, earning a chuckle from the other man. "Go bother Andy."

"He already is," a deep voice replied.

You would ask later just how much he spoke about you to the other artists. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. My ex was waiting for me outside of my shop and I kind of panicked and said I was meeting you and I rushed over here."

"Your ex?" Bucky asked, immediately moving forward to rub your arms in a soothing gesture. "Are you okay?"

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" you heard the guy at the desk call out before you could answer.

Instead, you burrowed yourself against Bucky when you heard Richard shout your name. Rock solid and sturdy, his hold kept your nerves from bubbling to the surface. You had nothing to be afraid of.

So why am I shaking?

“You’re kidding me, right? This fucking asshole?” Richard scoffed as you looked over your shoulder at him. He didn't walk any closer, but his voice carried throughout the entire shop. "Like putting a bumper sticker on a piece of shit car, isn't it?"

“Richard, just leave.”

"Does your mom know you're spreading your legs for some tatted up lowlife? Still a disappointment, aren’t you?”

The jab cut deep as much as you wanted to ignore it. He knew that your mom judged every part of you. No matter what you did, it was never good enough.

You wouldn’t focus on that for the time being. "

You do not come into his shop and insult him. Bucky, I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize for this asshole, Sugar. His opinion of me means less than nothing, trust me," he assured you before he faced your ex. "You, however, are banned from my shop. You can get out now or Jake will call the cops for trespassing. After you apologize to my girl for upsetting her. Your choice, Dick."

Your heart fluttered as you leaned into Bucky more.

His girl. It sounds right.

"Please. I can buy the shop tomorrow just to bulldoze it to the ground," he sneered before he jabbed a finger at you. "And you know what? Keep her. I tried to give her another chance, but she's not worth it. She's a lousy lay anyway."

The insult washed away the momentary good feeling and was the tipping point that brought tears to your eyes. It was humiliating enough that you were the root cause of a scene in Bucky's shop, but the jab in front of his employees and customers brought it to another level. Why did you think hiding in there was a good idea?

Does Bucky think I'm a total loser now?

It was only when you sniffled did you notice the entire shop had gone silent, a dangerous tension in the air when Bucky tightened his arms around you as Steve and Andy slowly got to their feet.

"Hey, why don't you and I go in the back?" the friendly girl at Andy's station suggested. "I think there's some snacks back there, right?"

Andy nodded and gave her the go ahead.

"Bucky," you whispered as you dared to look at him. A tear slid from your eye when you saw the murderous gaze on his handsome face. "I'm-"

Before you could register what was happening, he pulled your face toward his and kissed you. Fierce, yet gentle as he brushed the tear away with his thumb, you let him take the lead. A slow simmer of warmth crept into your cheeks as he parted your lips with his tongue and coaxed yours into his mouth. Your fingers twisted in his shirt as he deepened the kiss and shifted so you were pressed almost completely against him.

If this is how he kisses, he might actually kill me if we ever go further than that.

He breathed into your mouth as he stole the very oxygen from your lungs when he pulled away.

"Go in the back," he told you, his gaze dropping to your lips. Did he want to kiss you again or was it wishful thinking on your part? "I just need to take out the trash, finish up here, and I'll take you home, okay? I won't be long."

It was a feat that you didn't shed more years with how gently he spoke to you.

"Thank you," you whispered, unable to say much more.

"Let's check out that snack collection back there," you heard before you were pulled from Bucky's grasp.

You didn't look back at Richard when the girl tugged you away, but you heard a slight waver in his voice as yelled after you.

That's right. You should be afraid.

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes with your hand.

"No need to thank me. One of my good friends just got out of a bad relationship and I'm still a bit in my protective streak," she explained. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

You tried to remember how Richard acted around other guys when the two of you dated. Had he been the jealous type and you just ignored it? Or did he only cause a scene because you showed him you wanted to move on?

Tess is going to flip when she hears about this.

"Well, whether they just throw him out on his ass or worse, he deserves it for what he said to you," she added before she told you her name. "Everyone calls me Sunny."

"He does," you agreed, introducing yourself as she handed you some water. "Bucky calls me Sugar."

"And you work in the bakery across the street?" she guessed.

"Co-owner," you said, the small talk calming you. "Do you work here or are you a client?" you asked, noticing that she didn't have any tattoos.

"New client. I work in an animal shelter," she smiled. "Grumpy out there is going to give me a sun tattoo."

"That's nice," you smiled back. It seemed fitting with her warm and bright presence. "I really do appreciate you bringing me back here."

It was somehow just as warm and inviting as the entrance, the couch worn and comfortable. You wondered how often Bucky came back here to relax and hang out in-between his appointments. Would he ever bring you back here if you stopped in to see him?

"I figured the amount of testosterone out there could be a bit overwhelming, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Other than being incredibly embarrassed, yeah."

Even though Richard was no longer your boyfriend, he just had to barrel back into your life and leave a mess in his wake.

"He's the one who should be embarrassed," Sunny said, wiggling her eyebrows. "Especially after seeing that kiss."

Your face warmed as you replayed it in your mind. The silver lining for showing up tonight was receiving such a passionate kiss from Bucky. It was difficult not to get swept up in the moment though and you told yourself it was likely just for show. A way for him to stick it to a guy who upset you.

Right?

"It was a really good kiss," you smiled.

"Oh, we all felt the heat. Trust me."

Both of you giggled until there was a soft knock on the door frame.

"Hey, Sugar. Trash is out on the curb," Bucky winked. "You ready to go home?"

Your heart fluttered as you smiled back. "Yeah, I'm ready."

You didn't live far away, but Bucky still insisted on taking you home. He even took you out the back way so you didn't have to see anyone. While he didn't specify exactly what happened with Richard, he assured you he wouldn't poke around either of your shops again. It made the drive home more pleasant knowing he looked out for you.

So much that you almost took his hand when he stopped outside of your place.

Almost.

"Thank you for everything," you said. "I'm really sorry about tonight."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Not the first time we've dealt with assholes in the shop. Steve and I don't like bullies."

"I still feel bad," you said, wishing the feeling would go away.

"Please, don't," he whispered.

Your fingers twisted in your lap before you took a deep breath. "When you came into the bakery earlier today, I was going to ask you out," you told him, but refused to look at him. "But after that, it's probably a dumb idea. You shouldn't have to deal with that kind of trouble."

Maybe there's a better girl out there for you.

"You think one asshole ex is trouble?" he asked, leaning over to grasp your chin so you'd face him, goosebumps rising on your arms from his touch. "I can handle that."

"But what he said in your shop-"

"He did that to bring you down because he's an asshole. Guys like that don't want to see girls thrive without them."

You scoffed and mumbled, "I wonder what you'd think of my mom.

"I'm not afraid to stand up to anyone who tries to hurt you," he said, keeping a hold of your chin with a tender grip as your chest tightened. "You said you were gonna me ask out. Don't change your mind because of them."

"So, you really want to go on a date with me?" you asked.

"If I say 'yes', do I get to kiss you again?" he replied, running his thumb along your lower lip.

You were torn between sucking his thumb into your mouth or sinking into your seat. "Maybe we should get an actual date under our belts first. You only kissed me to prove a point or something."

Even if it felt like heaven.

"Or maybe I've been wanting to kiss you since I walked into your bakery and I want to kiss you again," he said, sliding his hand around to the back of your neck with ease. "Proving a point was an added bonus."

You looked at him wide eyed and subconsciously touched your lips. "Wait, you want to kiss me just because I asked you on a date?"

"I can give you a whole list of reasons," he said, his gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes. "And I'd love to go out with you. Friday night, Sugar?"

"It's a date, Hottie," you smiled when he leaned in.

But he didn't kiss your lips.

He brushed a kiss to your forehead, which somehow seemed more intimate.

"You had a rough evening. The next time I kiss you, I want it to because it's the right moment, just for the two of us," he explained when you furrowed your brows. "My girl deserves that."

A soft smile played at your lips as something warm welled up in your chest. He could have easily taken advantage of how vulnerable you felt by stealing another kiss, but he didn't. Even though you were into each other.

Going to see Bucky tonight was the right choice.

And you couldn't wait for your date.

Love them. Love the whole gang. Except Richard. Fuck that guy. And where are they going on that date? Check out What Dreams Are Made Of to see how Bucky is feeling. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #tattoo!bucky barnes x reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x baker!reader #hottie and sugar #bucky barnes #tattoo!bucky barnes #tattoo artist!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #tattoo artist au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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onceuponastory · 5 months

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closer - tattooartist!bucky barnes x female!reader

Plot: Y/N's feelings towards her tattoo artist intensify the closer he gets to her. Pairing: TattooArtist!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A few mentions of needles - specifically tattoo needles - and the sensation and pain of getting tattooed (specifically when it goes over a bone). If that sort of thing gives you the squick, I wouldn't read. Notes: Welcome to... whatever this is. I just missed tattoo!artist Bucky and I hc him as a flirt and a slight pain in the ass so here we are!

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

“Alright.” Bucky grins, loading up his tattoo needle with ink. “You ready to start?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll be fine.” Bucky reassures. “Besides, it’s not like it’s going to be any different from the other ones I’ve done for you.” He chuckles.

He’s right, of course. This is not her first tattoo by Bucky Barnes. In fact, by this point, Bucky’s done most of Y/N’s growing collection of tattoos, and claims to be the very reason she was ‘bit by the tattoo bug’. And he’s right. Since she got her first tattoo from him, Y/N’s been itching to get more. She doesn’t see skin on her arms anymore, she sees empty space, a canvas for Bucky to fill with his art. And if she could, she’d have him cover her entire body with it.

Of course, the fact that her favourite tattoo artist (his words, not hers... although she agrees with him) is the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen is also why she keeps rushing back whenever she can. And he's also a massive flirt. Yet although it’ll never amount to anything, it never does… that doesn’t mean she can’t spend their sessions hoping for it. That one day he’ll notice her, really notice her, and tell her he’s just as much in love with her as she is with him.

As Bucky gets to work, Y/N turns her head, watching him. Of course, a lot of her sessions are also spent oogling her tattoo artist. Multicoloured tattoos of various designs and sizes cover Bucky's arms, piquing her curiosity. She's always wanted to ask him about them, to tell her the stories behind them, what was going on in his life back then to make him choose that design.

The familiar warm feeling of love begins to pool in her gut again, and Y/N sighs.

There's a lot of things she wants to know about Bucky.

"I can see you staring, you know."

"Just checking you're doing a good job." She lies. Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Oh, please." He looks down at her, trademark smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You use that excuse all the time. You just can't resist me."

Asshole.

Thankfully, Bucky soon drops it, going back to working on her tattoo. Today, he’s doing a piece that snakes up her arm and onto her shoulder, meaning he’s frequently getting up close and personal, more so than she’s used to. However, she doesn’t mind that at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Bucky works, Y/N occasionally glances over at him, still watching him curiously. Both because she actually enjoys seeing Bucky at work, and because again, he’s gorgeous. Thankfully, Bucky doesn't seem to have noticed this time. Or if he does, he doesn't call her out on it.

Some of Bucky’s brunette strands escape his man bun, framing his face. Y/N has to stop herself from reaching up and tucking it behind his ear. Despite how close she and Bucky are, that gesture is too intimate, too close for them… even as he moves further up her arm and onto her shoulders.

At one point, she glances over again, not realising he’s a lot closer than expected. So much so that her skin almost brushes against Bucky’s hair. For a split second, a flash of pink crosses Bucky's cheeks, and she frowns. Was he...blushing? Because of her?

“Oh, sorry.” She murmurs, her cheeks burning. How does he even look hotter up close? “Just tell me to move back if you want… or just move me out of the way.” She jokes awkwardly, only adding to her embarrassment. Hopefully, this session will be over before she makes even more of a fool of herself in front of Bucky.

“It’s okay.” Bucky smirks, running a hand through his few strands of hair, a sight that makes Y/N glad she’s laying down to witness. “You’re perfect, actually.” He chuckles. “Don’t tell the others I said this… but you’re my favourite client.” He winks.

She swears this man will be the death of her some day.

As Bucky continues the tattoo, he suddenly goes over a tender area, and she winces in pain. “You okay? You’re doing great, but let me know if you wanna stop, alright?” Bucky says. Gritting her teeth, Y/N nods.

“I’m good.” She gasps. "I just forgot how much that hurts."

It’ll all be worth it. It always is.

At least, getting to see Bucky makes it worth it, anyway.

“Good girl." Bucky smirks.

Fucker.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The remainder of the session passes in silence, and Y/N’s head swirls. If she told him the truth, laid her heart out on the line… would it be so bad?

She braces herself, opening her mouth to speak. But Bucky gets there first.

“You know Y/N, we’ve known each other for long enough that I feel like we’re friends. So the trust between us is solid enough.” He chuckles, refilling his ink.

In actuality, she and Bucky have known each other for almost three years. Not that she’s been counting or anything. And despite Bucky doing most of her tattoos, she’s been at the shop infrequently enough that she wouldn’t consider themselves ‘friends’. But the thought that Bucky considers them friends makes her heart do that funny thing it always does whenever she sees Bucky - when it somehow beats too fast and almost stops.

God, she wants him so badly.

“Yeah, that’s true. And besides, you’ve been up close and personal with me a lot.” She chuckles, another batch of heat spreading across her cheeks. Bucky laughs brightly, and Y/N grins just as wide.

“You’re right, I have.” He nods. “To be honest, by this point I’m convinced I could say or do anything, and you’d say ‘yeah!’, tattoos or otherwise.”

“Yeah!” she giggles.

“Okay.” Bucky muses, looking up at her with a smirk. “Go on a date with me then.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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kikixreverie · 1 year

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I can’t stop thinking about tattoo artist!Bucky being all sweet and giving you praise while he does your tattoo.

“That’s it, doll. Doing really good. Just a little longer and we’ll take a break, okay?”

And your mind can’t stop wandering to a situation where Bucky would be saying the same things, only in a completely different context.

And when you have to clench your thighs together to provide some sort of relief to the throbbing he was causing between your legs, he’d give you this look, as if he knew, as if he was saying those things because he just knew the effect it would have on you.

But you’d stick it out till the tattoo was finished, biting down on your lower lip because of the pain, but also to distract yourself from his gloved hands on your skin.

And of course he waits till it’s finished to finally say it, “Good girl, sweetheart. All done.”

#would you guys be interested in a one shot like this?#because I definitely would #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barns x reader #tattoo artist bucky

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punkbarnes2 · 6 months

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DAY 04 - TATTOO ARTIST . (Swipe for old version) This took me longer than i expected, i didn't liked the previous art - in fact it is one the old arts that i like the least - so that's why i decided to make it from scratch, and also, my unstoppable urge to make a lot of tiny little details. At least this time i had more success into making Bucky look like Sebastian Stan's Tommy Lee (which was the original intention) That's it, xoxo

My commissions are still open babies, and you can also support me on Ko-fi <3

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #stevebucky #stucky #marvel fanart #captain america #steven grant rogers #ipad8 #james barnes #tattoo artist #tattoo studio #tommy lee #sebastian stan tommy lee #sebastian stan

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humapuma · 8 months

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New fic posted!

#stucky #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #humapuma #alternate universe #happy ending #modern #no powers #tattoo artist Bucky #construction worker Steve #flirting #🫦

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buckrecs · 1 year

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I was looking through your masterlist and I don’t think you’ve done this au….

Bartender bucky or tattoo artist bucky, honestly idc which one you choose to provide recommendations for(if you do)!:)<3

Tattoo Artist!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

I did tattoo artist!bucky this time, but if you send another req I am very willing to do bartender!bucky too😉😏

ONESHOT

Jacks and Sunshine by @rookthorne

You were the warmth and light to Bucky’s shadows and brooding nature – a match made in heaven, and it was a miracle that a certain someone realised as much.

Soft by @softlyspector

Bucky and the reader have been together for a few months. She wants him to stay the night with her, but he’s reluctant.

fingers by @buckycuddlebuddy

you couldn’t take your eyes off of his hands.

Sting by @adrinktostopyourthirst

TattooArtist!Bucky praising you during a session.

tattoo parlor by @alisonsfics

the beautiful artwork and craftsmanship wasn’t the only thing that kept you coming back to bucky’s tattoo shop.

american tattoo by @seventven

steve and bucky run a tattoo shop together in brooklyn. y/n, a friend of steve’s, decides to get inked. only bucky is present at the shop and he’s about to close it for the night.

inked by @buckys-black-dress

A Little Cover-up by @butwhyduh

You get a tattoo.

make it count by @serpienten

It’s cold and rainy when Bucky sees her for the first time. Within three minutes, he’s under her spell.

Starstruck Beginnings by @rookthorne

Shopping in your favourite art store with Bucky brings back the memory of your first encounter, and after so much time has passed, it was with fondness that you looked back on just how starstruck you were in his presence.

SERIES

A Touch of Ink by @deamstellarus

After a breakup with your ex, you decided to move to the small town where your long-time friend Sam lives, hoping for a change of pace and starting a new chapter in your life. You were prepared for a slower paced lifestyle, quaint diners, and a change of scenery. However, you didn't expect to be swept off your feet by two stunning pairs of blue-grey eyes.

Paws and Pins by @matchamunson

In which Bucky runs into the owner of the animal shelter across the street from his shop. (Social Media AU)

Fight For You by @revengingbarnes

Brooklyn, New York. At the annual local boxing championship, Y/N is the leading medical specialist on call. It’s a whole new environment, and despite the drastic change, she loves it. Bucky Barnes is the reigning boxing champion of Brooklyn. Virtually undefeated, this tattoo artist by day, boxer by night is someone that is now fighting his way into Y/N’s head. And she’s helpless in front of his winning streak.

Skin on Skin by @navybrat817

Hottie and Sugar

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #tattoo artist!bucky #tattoo artist!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x baker!reader #bucky barnes social media au #bucky barnes smau

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 7 months

Note

tatto artist bucky?! sign me the fuck up, i wanna know what he ends up designing on reader’s leg

Bucky leaned over his drawing board and growled. This was gonna be the hardest cover up he'd done in a while.

And he was less than thrilled. But. He had to try. Something. Anything. To try and give you back the confidence you should have. You were a pretty girl. And smart.

During the consultation, you'd asked a million questions. But they were the right ones. You wanted to know all about his experience and what he could do. And you managed to give him- not a lot about yourself. Neatly sidestepping questions that might have given away too much.

"Any luck?" Steve asked peering over his shoulder.

"I can work with foxes. And bluebonnets. what I can't figure out is how to work with the fucking thick ass lines to keep it from breaking through."

"Yikes- the fuck did he do to her?"

"Looks like he wanted that shit to hurt don't it?"

"And then some," Steve said frowning. "Christ."

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, "Look Steve I-"

"Yeah yeah," Steve said helping himself to a soda out of the mini fridge. "Damsel in distress discount. I got it."

Bucky cringed, "This is gonna be a lot of work and I don't think she can afford it. Even after I take the deposit out."

"She must be a looker."

"And her car is older than I am."

#bucky barnes x reader #minors dni #ask answered #Bucky Barnes #tattoo artist!bucky #reader insert

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lokiswifeduh · 1 year

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beautiful flesh

pairings: tattoo!artist!buckybarnes x fem!plus!size!reader

summary: You're going in with Natasha to get a tattoo, but you're nervous since the place you want it in has a little extra skin. Thankfully, Bucky is there to assure you you're beautiful.

warnings: needles, blood, tattoos, negative self-talk, I think that's it!

Natasha walked in first, the bell on the door jingling as she stepped through. You walked in behind her, timidly looking around as you kept at least a two-foot distance between the two of you.

"Romanoff!" A blonde man grinned as he stepped up to the counter, wiping off a bottle with black liquid in it. He was covered in tattoos, his arms filled with roses and skulls and his neck was covered in intricate designs as well. You eyed the ink drawings, admiring them from behind your friend.

"Y/n!" You snapped out of your daydream as Natasha caught your attention. "Hmm?" She let out a small chuckle, "I was just telling Steve here about the tattoo you wanted to get."

You nodded, "Yeah, I want flowers." "You gotta be a little more specific, doll." All your heads snapped in the direction of the man walking from behind the glass partition. His eyes were steel blue, contrasting with the chestnut brown of his hair. His muscled flexed back and forth as he cleaned off a piece of equipment, the tattoo's on his arms moving over the muscles underneath.

You soon realized everyone was staring at you, awaiting a response. "Uh, a vine of flowers, with the branch going up on my breast." You slightly lifted your arm, motioning with your other to the underneath of your right breast. Bucky's eyebrow raised slightly, "I hope you gotta picture, doll. Come on back." I looked to Natasha who had already sat down at Steve's station, the blonde artist already working on sanitizing and cleaning her arm where her next design was going.

You followed the brunette man to the back of the store, walking through and into a room where there was a chair with a table of supplies. "You can lay down on your back." You moved, following his words as you let your back rest against the chair, your legs bent down but not enough to touch the ground.

Bucky cleaned off his machine, making sure everything was prepped and ready. You didn't wanna tell him this was your first tattoo but somehow you could tell he knew. Plus the absence of art on your bare arms and back made a statement that you hadn't done this before.

Bucky sat down on the rolling stool beside the chair, "Lift up your shirt for me, doll." You cringed, Bucky catching your grimace. Just as you were about to lift your tank top he caught your hand, "If you're uncomfortable you don't have to do this." You shook your head, "It's not, I just..." You took a deep breath, "I'm a little bigger than most girls and I'm not really sure this tattoo will..work with my size."

Bucky's brows furrowed in confusion before softening his gaze, "Doll, I've been doing this for a while. And I can tell you, no matter the size you are or the shape you are beautiful, and this tattoo, or any you get in the future will look amazing on your exquisite body." You let out the breath you were holding, squeezing your eyes shut only to open them as you made eye contact with the brunette sitting above you.

"You mean that?" Bucky nodded, a smirk gracing his lips, "You have nothing to be worried about, doll. You have an amazing body, believe me." You nodded your head, pulling up your shirt and holding it so he could sanitize your skin.

He wiped off the area you described, "I might need you to lift a little more of your bra if that's okay." You let out a low laugh, "Can I at least know your name before I flash you?" He huffed out a surprised chuckle, "My names' James. and you are?"

"Y/n" You lifted your bra a little more as he swiped the disinfectant over the under of your boob.

"Well, nice to meet you Y/n." You smiled, feeling his hands over your body like electricity.

"You too, James."

A/N: I honestly loved this idea! Plus it was fun getting to photoshop Natasha and Bucky with tattoos! I want to start doing more Bucky x plus-size!reader, since I am plus-size myself and it is hard to find fics with plus-size readers.

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #tattoo!artist!bucky #fanfic #marvel #buckybarnes #avengers #bucky imagine #fanfiction #fluff #fem!reader #natasha romanoff #romanogers #steve rogers #tattoo!artist!steverogers #marvel imagine #winter soldier

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onsunnyside · 1 year

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seeing chris’s instagram story for me thinking some THOTS about tattoo artist!curtis with some…SPECIAL piercings….

-buckys babe (yes, me again)

grumpy tattoo artist!curtis asking if you’re in the right shop bc of your pretty sundress, bright eyes and fresh bouquet of flowers: “I have my first appointment today!” You’re so happy and sweet 🥰

“does your daddy know you’re here?”

Ok you’re in college but you actually didn’t tell you dad about your first tattoo 🫡 “uh… yes?”

“You lying to me?”

“N-No!” But you obviously are 😌

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.” He winks.

me knows he’s a condescending daddy, mean but caring dom, total daddy material 🫶

#tattoo artist Curtis #ask sonny #bucky's babe anon

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thesugarclubs-blog · 1 year

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I Dare You - AU Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: alcohol use, truth or dare, tattoo artist bucky, smut - 18+

word count: 11.5k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1303819549-i-dare-you-greta

authors note: happy 2023! we are extremely excited to get into the grove for the year and share all our wonderful stories with you! starting off strong with a tattoo artist au bucky!

Masterlist

“Greta!” Yelena hollered at the top of her lungs from across the packed bar, her long blonde hair was a beacon for her location as she carried two overpoured whiskey sours above her head through the crowd.

“How do you even afford this after paying tuition?” Greta laughed, brushing her short, messy brown hair behind her ear and taking the glass off Yelena’s hands.

“Easy,” Yelena laughed, setting her cup on the table and pretending to hike up her skirt. She ran her hands up her thighs before giving Greta the middle finger. “It’s all in hips,” she laughed, nodding toward the bar.

A cute blonde-haired frat boy stood on the other side in a brand new college hoodie under the dingy pub lights with his buddies waving his fingers like he was smooth. “Fuck freshmen are stupid,” Greta shook her head and sipped on her drink.

“Where did Wanda and Kate run off to?” Yelena asked.

Greta pointed a finger at Kate leaning against the pool table with a sly smirk across her pretty face as Wanda picked the pockets of the poor sorry son of bitch too busy to notice. She wiggled the brown leather wallet and her eyebrows at them as she sauntered back toward Greta and Yelena.

Kate brushed off the idiot ogling her tits and pushed her way to them, downing the rest of Greta’s drink without remorse. She adjusted herself in her bra underneath her deep purple tank top and covered herself.

“Dare complete,” Wanda cooed, dropping the wallet on the table. “You make them too easy Greta, it’s like playing a game of chess with a baby.”

“Taking candy from…” Kate started to explain, looking at her confused for a second and then back to Greta, “nevermind, she’s right, that was lame.”

“Who’s up next?” Greta asked, scowling at Kate as she handed her back the empty glass. “Although I’d love it if it could involve replacing my fucking drink!”

Kate snickered and pecked a kiss on Greta’s cheek.

“You love me though,” she cooed.

“Yeah, lucky for you,” Greta grumbled in return but turned her scowl into a grin.

“It’s my turn to dare,” giggled Wanda, waving her hand in the air.

Wanda leaned forward and looked directly into Greta’s eyes. “And I have just the perfect idea. Our little resident of following the rules is going to get a tattoo… tonight” Wanda grinned

“Ohh. Nice one Wanda” Yelena said taking a sip of her drink

Greta raised a brow at her friend and scoffed.

"In your dreams, Maximoff. Reshuffle those ideas of yours."

"Oh come ooon Greta, don't be a killjoy. That's my one and only offer. Tattoo or the rest of the rounds are on you tonight for passing and I'm not so sure you want us drinking on your dime." Wanda sang teasingly as she grasped her chin and scrunched her nose up.

Greta took a deep breath and moved her gaze toward Kate and Yelena both with expectant grins on their faces. She rolled her eyes and returned her gaze back to Wanda,

"Fine." she huffed. "But it's not happening until Kate replaces my goddamn drink."

Kate and Yelena cheered as Wanda smirked, eyes glittering with mischief. “You have to get it where I want it also.”

“Ooo,” chorused Kate and Yelena as Greta thought.

“Clock’s ticking,” Wanda said, grinning as Greta huffed and nodded.

"Can you go fuck yourself?" Greta asked with a sweet smile. "Is that an option?"

Wanda chuckled, shaking her head while Yelena snickered.

"No! A dare is a dare! And you picked dare! You can't wuss out on this. You always try to!"

"I don't have any money," Greta replied, hoping that that would give her an out and Wanda could pick something else. Instead, Wanda just shook her head, her shit-eating grin getting bigger and bigger. Greta felt sick, and suddenly the idea of another drink was sounding like the best and worst idea of all time.

"No, it has to be a tattoo, and it has to be on your ass, or on your ribs. Come on, Greta..."

She and Yelena started a chant of Greta's name, slamming their hands on the counters as Greta rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Well, I’m not getting my ass out in front of a complete stranger,” Greta muttered.

“Why not? It’s a great ass,” Kate grinned, “so ribs it is, let’s go!”

That solved her inner drink dilemma, although she probably could have done with a shot of Dutch courage as the girls ushered her out the door excitedly.

“Do I not get to think about this? I don’t even know what I want to get yet and where are you even taking me? There can’t be a tattoo shop open at this time surely?” She rambled, stalling — or at least trying to.

“White Wolf will be! Peter, got a tattoo there last month.”

"You sure that it's open in the middle of the night?" Greta asked with a mixture of annoyance and worry in her voice as the girls left the club.

"Yeah, I just checked it on Google and it's still open. No excuses, you coward! You chose dare, it's your own fault!" Yelena giggled.

Greta rolled her eyes and a loud huff escaped her throat. "Fiiiiinnneee.."

It took them only ten minutes to reach "The White Wolf", a small tattoo shop on the main road with a huge window that showed the logo of the shop. Greta turned around to look at her slightly drunk friends and tried to figure a way out of this mess, but they were shoving her through the door before she was able to run away.

The brunette peered around the room and saw a counter in front of her and a small waiting area with comfortable looking couches to her left. On a sideboard next to the couches she could see a few thick albums that probably contained some tattoo inspirations.

No one could be seen by the counter but Greta could hear a small buzzing sound from the back of the room - hiding behind a dark curtain.

"It sounds like they're busy..." Greta turned to her friends with a smile and made to head towards the door, "maybe we should just.."

She felt a slender hand wrap around her bicep, tugging her back to the counter, "nuh-uh," Kate's voice sang behind her, "We'll wait."

The knot in Greta's stomach grew as Kate whipped her around, placing her hands on her shoulders, "It's just a little needle and--"

"Don't be a pussy," Yelena chortled, nudging her, "you'll be fine."

Greta scoffed as Kate and Wanda tried to hide their quiet snickers. Deep down she had always wanted a tattoo. She just didn't want one as a drunken dare.

Wanda tapped the small bell on the counter, once, twice, and then a third time, "Hello?"

The buzzing stopped, "Gimme a sec would ya!" A graveled voice boomed from behind the curtain.

Greta’s heart nearly stopped when the voice’s owner stepped out behind the counter, tall and muscular with long black hair tucked into a backward baseball cap. He was gorgeous in a rugged, dirty, sweaty kind of way and her eyes couldn’t help but follow the tattoos that ran down his neck only to disappear beneath his gray t-shirt.

The sight of Greta and her friends caused the man’s brows to furrow, a look of annoyance crossing his face as he braced both hands against the counter. Behind her, she could hear Kate giggling a sultry hello.

“Well, I’ll be damned, if it isn’t you three ladies… Again.” He hissed.

Greta glared at the back of Wanda's head as all three of her friends giggled sheepishly at the guy while her heart dropped to her knees as his frown only got deeper while they tried to hold in their drunken laughs.

"You gotta admit," Wanda put her hands on her hips and grinned innocently at him, "we're good for your business."

"And Peter really liked his tattoo," Kate chimed in swirling a lock of hair around a finger and they heard Yelena snicker under her breath at that, "yeah once he stopped being a pain in the ass about how painful it was."

The man's scowl deepened as the girls laughed at that while Greta felt ambushed by her friends.

“And I guess that’s the new lucky one you found to get a tattoo, huh?” he nodded his head toward Greta, her cheeks blushing a soft pink.

“Oh, you bet it is,” Wanda turned around to Greta and pulled her in front of the very attractive man.

“And she’s getting it on her butt cheek,” Wanda winks at the man who couldn’t suppress a smirk.

“Wanda!” Greta hissed and smacked her shoulder lightly.

She turned her attention back to the man, feeling the blush of embarrassment cross her cheeks.

"Not on my butt," She clarified, shooting a small glare at her friend.

He raised an eyebrow, but his tone remained unimpressed when he spoke again, "Whatever, what are you getting then?"

Greta bit her lip, "Uh, I hadn't thought of that - is there like a book of options?"

"You could always get what Pete got?" Yelena laughed, leaning against the counter her blonde hair cascading down around her cherub face.

The man slid a large leather book from under the counter and set it down with a loud, interrupting thump.

"I'm scared to even ask," Greta sighed, "what is it that Peter got..." She looked up from the book at the man, his blue eyes judging her.

"James," he offered his name and flipped open the book. "He got that," he said, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

Greta looked down, her eyes going wide. "That idiot," she mumbled. Between two sheets of plastic, James pointed to a line drawing of what looked to be the Pope smoking a cigarette. "Where did he get that?" She turned wide eyed to the girls.

"On his ass," they all replied in unison.

Her eyes almost bulged out from the shock. “Is he for real?! And you’re sure he was actually, I don’t know, okay with that?!”

Her friends nodded as they looked at each other with big grins on their faces.

“Believe me when I say he took the first step with a puffed up chest and a big smile until he ended up holding onto his butt cheek for dear life as he limped out.” Yelena chuckled.

She rubbed her temple and exhaled a heavy sigh and turned back to the man, he tapped impatiently a finger against the counter, eyes practically screaming with boredom from their company.

She cleared her throat and crossed her arms, thinking about if her mind could come up with an idea of her own instead. Something that at least had a meaning to hear and that she definitely wouldn’t regret having on her body for her whole life.

“Well, I’m definitely not getting that…you cool with me coming up with a suggestion maybe?”

“Girl, as long as it’s on your ass or your ribs you can get whatever you want,” Wanda grinned.

“Well, I…” Greta started but was interrupted by a frustrated scoff.

“If you ladies don’t mind I gotta go do something more…interesting. Let me know if you decide on something,”

James pushed off from the counter and headed back behind the curtain. Greta watched him for a moment and then fixed her attention back on the book of flash in front of her. It was arranged in alphabetical order so she flicked through the pages until she came to the “S” section. Slowing down she finally came to a halt on a page filled with drawing after drawing of delicate seashells.

She smiled to herself. A seashell would be absolutely perfect. She looked at each design more closely to find just the right one.

“So Greta what have you decided on?” Wanda asked

“I’m going to get a seashell,” Greta replied not looking up from the book.

“A seashell? Alright…” Kate shrugged and Greta looked up to see a stone cold look on James’ face. She shivered and glanced away, turning to her friends.

“Anyone else getting one?” she asked, but her friends were slowly backing up.

“Nah this is all you girl! We’re gonna go grab some food, but I promise we’ll be back before you’re done,” Kate promised, as Wanda and Yelena waved goodbye, slipping out the door.

Alone? They were leaving her here alone? She watched them as they waved at her through the glass and sneered at them. Wanda winked at her. Greta's heart leapt into her throat as his previous client emerged from behind the curtain. A tall guy with blonde hair and a bushy beard and glasses who was also covered in tattoos. He had a fresh bandage on his bicep.

"Hey, thanks, Buck!"

"No problem, Steve. I'll see you tomorrow for that beer."

The blonde man smiled at her as he passed and Greta forced a smile, watching him walk out the door. She heard a heavy sigh from the counter.

"You can come on back. I'm just gonna clean up."

"Oh-- you don't want me to wait out here?"

He looked over his shoulder as he went to walk through the curtain. Something in his demeanor changed in an instant. As a cocky smirk spread across his face.

"I ain't gonna bite ya, sweetheart." He winked and she blushed. "Besides, I've gotta do placement and all that shit. If I let you wait out here, you might just run out on this dare and I don't make any money tonight. Let's go."

Greta followed him through to the back and stopped just beyond the curtain, palms sweating as she waited for him to set up his station again.

Her gaze tracked over his arms, over the intricately inked designs covering taut muscles that flexed as he moved. He seemed oblivious to her admiring him as he discarded the crumpled paper where his friend must have been laying and sprayed everything down.

“This your first tattoo?” He asked, peering at her as he readied himself with his sketch pad.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as Greta caught herself, forcing her eye to meet his as he beckoned her over to the bed with a pat on the freshly covered leather.

“Uh, yeah. That obvious?”

“It’s easy to spot the newbies, you all look like a deer in the headlights when you come back here.”

Greta chuckled nervously when she sat down on the tattoo table next to James.

"So butt or rips?" he asked with his husky voice.

"What do you mean?" she asked while nudging the skin of her left hand. She was more nervous than she had expected. It was only a small needle. How bad could it be?

"The tattoo. Where should it be?" he asked again with a little smirk on his face. Greta tilted her head to look him in the eyes and almost got lost in the depth of the ocean blue that sparkled like sapphires in the sunlight.

"Oh. Yeah. Rips, please."

"Wow. Such a tough guy." he mumbled while he printed the blueprint of the seashell tattoo. It was a small scallop shell in black and white the size of a small egg.

Greta was still zoned out and thought about James' blue eyes and hadn't heard his comment at first but when he turned around with the blueprint in his hands she asked "Mhm?"

"I said you're such a tough guy," James repeated - the little smirk very present on his face again.

"Is it thaaaat bad?" concern filled Greta's voice when James pointed to the table and commanded her to lay down.

"Some say so."

The knot in Greta's chest grew to the size of a tomato and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She was now laying on her right side as he wanted to have the tattoo on her left one.

James looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I thought you wanted me to lay down?"

"Yeah, but you need to pull off your shirt first." he winked at her.

"Oh. Yes. Sure!" she answered and grabbed the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head.

It felt like her heart was going to escape out of her chest as she held her shirt in her hand, glancing back at James. Crystal blue eyes trailed along the curve of her body and the dark teal lace bra she didn't think anyone would see tonight. A wave of goosebumps rolled over her skin as his eyes met her own again.

He reached out, his hand making a grabbing motion at her. Greta's brows furrowed, confused at what he wanted.

"Your shirt?" He said with a hint of annoyance in his voice like it was obvious as his eyes flickered to a set of hooks on the wall.

Realizing he was offering to hang it up for her, she let out a soft breath of relief. "Right.." She handed it to him, watching as he stood, the muscles in his back flexing against the cotton of his shirt. Only making her thighs clench together and an unfamiliar feeling spread in her belly.

"Alright, lay back for me" he commanded as he turned back to her. Greta followed his command instantly, his voice was low and had just enough gravel in it to cause another wave of goosebumps, "lay still and don't move," his voice surprisingly close as she felt the warmth of his fingers tracing along her side.

Her breathing got quicker with every move he made. She watched his tattooed hand slowly wander to her bra without touching it.

“I think I need to push it a little up if that’s okay. You can also take it off when you’re comfortable with that. But you don’t have to.” His voice was soft but still icy. She couldn’t exactly make out his feelings, so she nodded as she looked him in the eyes.

James cleared his throat; the silence was uncomfortable. He took the soft fabric into his fingers and moved it a little to get the perfect spot. In spite of him wearing protective gloves, Greta's skin shivered where his fingers touched her.

He seemed to consider something, then reached to his work table and grabbed a cloth, carefully tucking it under the edge of her bra.

"To protect it from any ink," he explained, when she caught his eye with a questioning look.

"Oh," she said softly, "Thanks."

He nodded stiffly, then set about placing the stencil. He moved it around a couple of times, then, with his fingers firmly holding it in place, he glanced up again, "This good?"

She stared down at him, words caught in her throat like an idiot as the lights created stars in his eyes. He watched her, fingers hovering over her ribcage as he waited for an answer.

"You ok?" He asked raising an eyebrow at her in question.

"Yeah," she shook free of the trance he had her under, "that's perfect."

His expression hardened and he stood up straight bringing the stencil with him. "I've had a lot of bodies in that chair," he said, nodding to it, "but I don't put people in that don't want to be."

"Pretty presumptuous for a guy who tattoos drunk college girls in the middle of the night," she steadied her nerves, biting back.

"I don't assume anything, you're shaking, Greta." He whispered, his tone low and husky. The corner of his lips curled slightly to the right, "and you aren't that drunk or you'd be a hell of a lot less cranky."

She hadn’t noticed it until he mentioned her state when being sucked down in the thoughts of whenever the needle will burry through her skin and how well, or badly she would take it, but her legs trembled like crazy against the sticky leather chair.

“I’m not cranky…” She muttered, taking a minute to collect herself with a calming breath. “It’s just…it’s my first and I really don’t know what to expect, how much it will hurt.”

He sighed and took a seat beside her again, a soft look was set in his eyes as he held up the stencil between them. “I get that, but if you’re shaking like that, it will be hard for me to concentrate on doing the lines properly. Let’s just start slow, okay? A small line, see how that feels, hm?” His voice was low but commanding at the same time, making the nerves in her body ease down a bit.

She nodded with a small smile, he moved on and placed down the stencil again to make sure she was pleased with the placement. His tongue poked out in concentration when trying to find the perfect angle and she caught something shiny between his lips, a tongue piercing

James raised his eyebrow in question and jutted his chin towards the mirror on the wall next to them. Greta looked over to where he indicated, taking in the position of the stencil and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding once.

“Yeah, there’s perfect,” she confirmed.

“Alright then,” he agreed, swiping the stencil paper with a green soap solution before removing it, leaving the violet lines of the design behind ready for him to trace.

He added black ink to a small plastic pot and fixed a brand new needle into his tattoo machine, adjusting the settings before scooping out a dollop of Vaseline onto the back of his left hand. He buzzed the machine a few times, picking up some ink from the pot and then Greta in the eye with an intense gaze.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Greta said as she got comfortable lying on her right side. She watched as he turned to face her exposed side and place a hand there.

“Okay, I’m going to start now with a small line so you know how it feels.” He spoke as he placed the needle in her skin and started the machine.

A sharp, stinging pain raced through Greta’s body, but she breathed through it, teeth clenched. It stopped and a dull throb took its place as James stopped tracing.

“How you doing? Wanna keep going?” he asked gruffly, but gently swept away the excess ink and a drop of blood.

"Yeah, keep going," she said through gritted teeth.

"Alright. You don't have to pretend you're a tough guy to look cool, okay?” he mumbled while continuing to trace the delicate line of the stencil.

"I'm not pretending," Greta whispered as another wave of pain shot through her. Uncomfortable but not unbearable.

"Sure you aren't, sweetheart." That smartass smirk was back and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm really not."

He chuckled as he continued to work and her stubbornness kicked in full force. The burning sensation was rushing through her body and she gritted her teeth, trying to take the softest breath she could as he dragged the needle across her skin.

"I said I believed you." His voice was rough, just barely eeking out over the sound of the buzzing tattoo gun as he worked. Suddenly, he hit a sensitive spot and a sharp gasp left her lips. Her leg twitched and she slammed her eyes shut.

A gentle hand rested just beneath her ribcage.

"It's okay," he breathed. "I gotcha."

"I don't need a break," she gritted out.

"I know," he laughed. "I'm almost done the outline. Just try to stay still."

"There's more?" She squeaked.

Another soft chuckle. It was starting to get on her nerves.

"You really are a rookie, aren't you?"

“Yeah, yeah… laugh it up,” Greta breathed.

“Hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere. It’s just usually not the result of a dare unless it’s you…” he chuckled and Greta glared up at him, “or your friend Peter.”

James flashed her a shit-eating grin, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling at the corners. He really was ridiculously attractive, with a sharp jaw and a perfect nose. She watched as his tongue slipped between his lips in concentration and he dragged it along his bottom lip, revealing more of the piercing she caught sight of earlier.

“Yeah well, you try saying no to those three.”

“Sounds like you need new friends,” James said with a raised brow, “or some good revenge.”

He wasn't wrong, revenge sounded great about now as the needle dug into her skin.

Greta gnawed on the inside of her lip to combat the pain. At least now she and Peter would have something to bond over besides all the sciencey stuff she pretended to know about.

"As much as I'd love new friends, I'm kinda stuck with those three." She mumbled, glancing down at where he was working. His eyes raised to hers, feeling her shift, "sorry." Greta muttered before glancing forward again.

"You don't have to be stuck with anyone." He said going back to murdering her skin.

She laughed softly, "Yeah... I kinda do."

The smile quickly fell from her lips remembering her first year of college. "The three of them were there for me during a dark time," she started, feeling him stop again. "My uh... grandmother died in my freshman year. We were really close and I didn't take it very well." She took the tiniest of breaths, "you think I'm cranky now, you should've seen me then."

“Well, shit… Sorry about your grandma.” James offered, his tone genuine and sincere, it was the nicest he had been throughout this whole painful ordeal.

“Thanks. She would be mortified to know I was getting a tattoo, but I figure, a seashell would make her smile at least.” Greta said looking down at the contraption she was laying upon, afraid to meet his gaze and not because her ribs felt like they had been punched by the repeated movements of the needle.

She didn’t want James, this complete stranger, to see the tears she was fighting to hold back and she just couldn’t help herself. The word vomit began to flow and she started rambling like an idiot about how her grandmother always took her to beach when she was little, the warmth of the sun bringing her to life after spending so much time drowning in the nuisances of her parent's divorce.

Her grandmother believed the beach had a way of healing people, of washing away fears and anxieties. Somehow she even got Greta to believe that every seashell they picked up out of the sand was a lifelong dream waiting to be fulfilled and before she knew it, she was wiping tears from her eyes and apologizing to the man sitting beside her, just trying to add some ink to her skin.

There was a long silence, Greta could tell he was trying to think of some kind of response but he must not have been that good at handling awkward situations because the next thing out of James’ mouth was:

“My grandma just made me cookies.”

She let out a quiet laugh through her lips, careful not to move and disturb his work so it wouldn't be ruined and she would get stuck with an ugly tattoo as a reminiscent of this dare.

Trying to reel in the tears, she took a deep breath slowly and let it out through her mouth. Greta was holding herself from shaking as she could faintly feel the needle piercing her skin through the numbness and hoped it would be over soon so she could leave with a shred of dignity left because getting dared to do something like this was easy in comparison to sitting through this stifling tension between her and the blue eyed artist.

Sure, it was exciting to try new things. It was a great idea to get a tattoo in the shape of a seashell in honor of her grandma. But not because of a dare and not under the hands of this gorgeous man who looked like he could break her in half if he wanted to.

She was so lost in thought, she didn't notice that the needle lifted off her skin until he spoke.

"It still needs a bit of shading but," James told her as he wiped down the excess ink gently to allow her to see it, his gloved hands sending shivers down her spine, "do you like it?"

Greta turned to inspect his handy work, a smile coming to her face when she saw the almost complete seashell on her skin.

"Wow," She breathed out, "It's gorgeous."

When she looked back at him, James was looking at her intently, almost like he wanted to say something. Instead, with a faint hint of a blush, he turned back to his work, biting down on his lower lip again.

"Sorry," He mumbled after a moment.

"What for?"

"For being a jerk, ya know, earlier, when you came in."

"I'd be cranky too if a group of drunk girls rolled into my shop right before closing," Greta laughed, resisting the urge to trace the raised sore skin of the tattoo with her finger.

James pressed a damp cloth to it without warning pulling a soft hiss of pain from her lips.

"I don't do cranky," he smiled at her as he leaned in close to her rib cage. He pursed his lips, hovering inches from her chest and blew cool air against the irritated skin. "I can't say for sure your grandmother would be proud you vandalized your perfect skin but," his blue eyes flutter up through his lashes to catch her gaze, "I think it suits you."

"Oh yeah?" Greta hummed nervously as he leaned over to grab the sheer plastic tattoo coverings.

"Delicate, intricate," he cleaned the skin one last time as he spoke, "unique, sharp and I imagine a pain in some poor guy's ass." He mumbled.

"No guy," she responded in barely a whisper.

James paused his gloved fingers brushing against her ribcage carefully, "hard to believe."

Great felt her face flush at his words and hoped he couldn’t see. Goosebumps erupted across her skin as he smoothed the edges of the covering down gently, making a second and third pass to make sure it was secured properly.

With a snap, he removed his gloves and then held out his hand with an expectant look on his face. Greta put her hand in his and he gently raised her up.

“You OK Darlin’? Not dizzy or anything?” He asked.

She took a deep breath, taking stock of herself and inhaled his spicy scent, sighing lightly as she responded, “No, I’m fine.”

James hadn’t let go of her hand, thumb stroking the back of it gently. “You did great for your first tattoo, especially a dared one.”

"Thank you," Greta said before pulling her shirt down carefully not to disturb the covering. James walked in front of her and pulled back the curtain to reveal the empty room, void of the three girls that Greta called her friends.

"Didn’t they say they would be back before you finished?" James said while walking up to the counter.

"Yeah." Unconsciously, a twinge of sadness swung in her voice.

He nodded as Greta smoothed out her shirt.

"Well, I have to start closing up."

"Oh, I can leave—“

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s dark and cold out there. I’ll clean up, and wait with you if you want to call a cab or an Uber or whatever."

Her eyes widened, surprised at his sudden softness. This guy wasn’t so bad after all. The piece on her ribs really was delicate, evidence of some kind of hidden gentleness that she thought she wouldn’t be privy to.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I can’t leave a pretty girl alone out in the cold, can I? Even if you hang out with those three drunkards.”

She chuckled, cheeks flaming. She chalked it up to adrenaline.

“Thank you, James.”

His eyes brightened when she said his name, and a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. She felt butterflies explode in her stomach as he quickly began to tidy up, putting away the old ink and wiping everything down. Once he was finished, he shucked off his gloves and tossed them into the trash, flicking his head toward the entrance.

“C’mon. You got a coat?”

She shook her head and he rolled his eyes.

“Are you kidding me? It’s January.” There was an edge to his voice like he gave a shit. He snatched his leather jacket off of the hook and handed it to her as they walked to the front entrance. She could hear his keys jingling in his hand. “Here. Put this on.”

She could spend all night hearing that sound. His laugh rumbled with warmth as the sound surrounded her. Greta couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips as she watched him. He was truly soft underneath his seemingly hard exterior.

"C'mon," he said holding his arm out for her to tuck into. She only hesitated for a moment, second guessing that he was humoring her but as a brisk wind rushed between them she stepped into him, hugging herself into his side just enough that she could feel his body heat.

His arm tucked around her waist, his hand placed just below the tender spot on her ribcage.

"Better?" She asked softly, glancing up at him.

The corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly, igniting something in her stomach as his eyes met hers. "Yeah," he breathed.

She flashed him a satisfied smile as she pulled out her phone, to order herself an Uber. Greta quickly made her way through the app, feeling his gaze on her as she did so.

"Did you know," he said softly once her phone was put away, "penguins mate for life," a smile, "but to find a mate the male will search for the perfect pebble for the female and if she likes it, they build a nest together."

Greta stared up at the tattooed man in front of her, baffled. She could only imagine the look she had on her face because he just laughed again.

"I like watching animal planet sometimes."

“I find that hard to believe, a big tough guy like you.” Greta smiled, looking at the ground to hide the blush creeping across her face.

“I like a good distraction before I settle in for the night,” James said, his voice husky and when she looked up at him, there was something in his eyes.

A kind of need, a hunger maybe, like a predator after prey. Greta on the other hand suddenly felt parched and unable to do anything but look into his blue eyes.

In fact, she felt like she had been walking through a desert for days seeking water and at that very moment considered drowning herself in the look he was giving her.

She almost wanted to ask if she could be his distraction for the night but before she could even entertain the thought, her phone dinged and a car pulled up.

The guy behind the wheel lowered down the window, ducking his head to look at them, "Greta?"

He sounded bored as Greta nodded to him.

"Yes! That's me. Just a sec."

She turned to James, already slipping out of the warmth of his jacket to give it to him when he halted her movements with a gentle hand on her. Sparks were moving through her skin at the contact as he lowered his eyes to hers, they were intensely focused on her she had to hold back a gasp.

"Keep it."

"But—"

"But nothing," he interrupted her with a firm tone, guiding her to the car and opening the door for her.

"It's cold and you need it more than me right now. Besides, I live right upstairs."

She didn't think she could fall under his spell any further but turns out, it is possible for a man of his looks to be as soft as a teddy bear. The heat flushing her cheeks at his kindness was visible as she thanked him.

"Thank you," Greta whispered gratefully as she lowered herself into the car.

"Goodnight, Greta," James murmured as he shut the door and took a step back.

"Goodnight, James," Greta replied back, her hold on the jacket surrounding her tiny frame tightening.

________________________________

The next afternoon, after sleeping late, Greta had thankfully only woken with a minor hangover and even more minor lingering pain from the tattoo.

Coffee and a painkiller had taken care of the worst of it before she'd decided she should go back.

Not only did she need to return the jacket, but she figured she should double check about taking care of her fresh ink - she had been drinking, after all. It had taken her till midday to work up the courage to call an Uber though.

Now she was standing in front of the shop, trying to bolster herself before going inside.

The door chimed when she finally opened it and stepped inside, stopping the same blonde man behind the counter who had been in the shop the previous night.

"Welcome to White Wolf - oh, hey, you were here last night!"

"Stevie?" Greta nodded as the door shut behind her with a click. The familiar noise of tattoo guns buzzed in the air.

He walked around the front, leaning against the desk with his rounded muscles crossed over his chest. "Steve," he corrected as his lips turned into a cheeky smile. "What can I do you for?" He looked her up and down, "please tell me you came back to complain. I love it when Buck gets all riled up about bad tattoos."

He leans forward as she comes into the shop, his hair falling against his cheeks he trailed her path with his ice blue eyes.

"Nope, but I am here to see him." She waved his jacket in the air.

Steve pursed his lips and his eyebrows knitted together in judgment, "he's not working today."

"Do you know where he is?" She mocked, her impatience growing.

"Maybe..." Steve flashed her smile, cocking his head to the side.

“Do you think you could tell me?” she asked, a biting smile shining back at him. Greta grit her jaw as he sucked his teeth, blowing out a breath and looking her up and down before grinning.

“I’ll make ya a deal. Tell me where he tattooed ya and I’ll tell ya where he is.”

Greta rolled her eyes debating just leaving the jacket there, but she had to admit, just to herself, she wanted to see James again.

“My ribs,” she huffed and Steve grinned widely, eyes sparkling.

“I see…Well, a deal’s a deal- Buck’s up at his place. Head around back and there’s a set of stairs. Knock at the door at the top of them,” Steve winked, jerking his head towards the back of the shop.

"Thanks, Steve." Greta thanked the blonde giant and made her way to the back and up the stairs where she was greeted by a hunter green door. She raised her hand to knock.

After a few fluttering heartbeats she heard footsteps coming closer from the other side of the door and she got increasingly more nervous.

She was greeted by James, wearing nothing but red flannel pyjama pants. His muscular torso was covered in intricate ink and a silver chain hung from his neck. The same striking blue eyes looked at her laced with surprise. His dark long hair was tied with an elastic at the nape of his neck.

His gaze travelled up her body as his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, the silver bar in this tongue, glistening in the warm light of his hallway.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, sunshine?" James grinned, the corner of his eyes, crinkled.

Her mouth was a desert and she struggled to swallow and form a coherent thought as she looked him up and down. Her mouth hung open and he smirked, tilting his head to the side. It was that fucking grin again. Her legs suddenly felt like they couldn't hold her weight as his bright blue eyes sparkled.

"You're catching flies."

"Wha?" She asked as he leaned over, his finger sliding under her chin to close her mouth. Slowly, he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip and she got a good look at the tongue ring. Sweat formed on her brow. Her cheeks flamed and she hung her head. "Jacket."

He leaned forward, still smiling,

"What was that, princess? I didn't catch that."

"I-- I brought your jacket back, and to ask about aftercare-- I mean tattoo aftercare... It's called that, right?"

He was beaming. Smug motherfucker, she thought. He flicked his head.

"Come on in. You want a cup of coffee?"

Greta stared back at him, her jaw clenching only to keep it from falling open again. She glanced down at the stairs, she could leave now. Just throw the jacket at him, run down the stairs, and save herself the embarrassment of melting in front of this man.

"It's a simple yes or no darling, you need some caffeine?" James asked, leaning against the door frame his eyes narrowing playfully. The grin still plastered over his perfect mouth, the stubble he had last night had somehow gotten darker and it was now she could see the small patches of grey.

"Caffeine sounds great," she smiled, deciding against her flight response as she willed her feet to move.

"Come on in."

James encouraged, taking a step back as she took a tentative step then a second one inside, immediately engulfed in his scent that lingered more intensely around them in his living space when he closed the door behind her.

His fingers touched hers as he took the jacket, and hung it on a hook before walking towards what she assumed was the kitchen.

Her eyes darted everywhere. Trying to take in as much as she could and learn more about him, the place was surprisingly tidy and clean for being a guy's place.

What stood out to her as she took a few steps further inside was the shelves lining one wall, filled with books upon books. If she looked closely enough she'd get a glimpse of drawings on their worn covers.

His head peaked at her from behind a cabinet, cutting her out of her curious glances.

"You coming? I don't bite, Greta."

His lips curled upwards in a smirk when she shuffled in a hurry to him.

James gestured to the cupboard when she approached, "Pick a mug, any mug."

When Greta peered inside there was a variety of mismatched mugs in a variety of sizes and shapes.

"Oh, that one," she pointed at a dark grey mug with a red star on the side.

James smiled, pulling it down for her, "That's my favorite one."

He poured her a cup from the carafe in the kitchen and held it out to her with the handle out. She reached for the base of the mug but he pulled it from her reach, "It's hot, take the handle," he laughed and she rolled her eyes but listened.

She turned, watching him walk around the butcher block island and into the loft. The exposed brick walls held more than just shelves of books, but art and crates full of old records. In the middle of the living room, he slid down against his brown leather couch and patted it gently.

She sat down next to him awkwardly, her nose filling with his scent as the cushions squished beneath her. She gripped the mug between her fingers and bit the inside of her lip nervously as her eyes settled on the two large pane windows behind him.

"Can I see?" he asked, tilting his head to catch her gaze.

She turned back to him, her eyebrowed curled up in confusion.

"The shell," he laughed.

"Oh yeah of course," she set her cup down on the table in front of her and angled it so he could see her side.

His fingers brushed against the sliver of bare skin around her hips and lifted the shirt up around her ribs. Greta’s breath hitched, and his fingers paused momentarily, before resuming their journey, gently tracing around the tattoo. His touch was featherlight but warm, heat radiating from him.

“Good girl, took care of this nicely,” James murmured, voice low and soft a little less grave than last night.

Greta shivered at his words, a breathy “Thanks,” falling from her lips as his fingers kept tracing patterns on her skin.

"Lines still look good," he whispered as her eyes closed and she nodded. "You did well last night."

Her chest heaved. Greta wanted to hear that "good girl" spoken over and over again in her ear. She wanted to beg him to say it again but thought better of it. Instead, all she could muster was pathetic, "y--yeah. They do."

"You okay?" He asked as he looked up at her.

Her heart was racing, she felt dizzy, and her chest was heaving. She was anything but okay right now.

"Still hung over," she murmured.

"Hmm." That gentle, gravelly voice was going to be the death of her. He withdrew his hand and took his sweet time putting her shirt back down, his knuckles brushing against her as he went. She opened her eyes and took a sip of coffee as he leaned back.

"You'll wanna keep that moisturized, clean, and dry. I can give you a pamphlet. I got lots of 'em up here."

"Thanks." She looked around, trying to calm herself down, staring at his bookshelf. Lots of art books. She smiled. "This place is cute."

He chuckled and his eyes lit up as his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. Greta felt her heart begin to race again.

"Looks a lot prettier with you in it, darling."

She hid the blush creeping up her cheeks behind her mug, taking another sip as her eyes flickered to him. Ice blue eyes were still trained on her, that hungry look had returned and she couldn't help the way her inner thigh muscles tensed watching him. He wasn't real. No man that looked like that was real.

"Thanks," she mustered.

"You didn't have to bring back the jacket," he said, sipping his own coffee and leaning back into the leather, "kinda glad you did though."

Greta glanced over at him, a glimmer of hope that he was happy to see her again flooded her chest, "yeah?"

"It's my favorite jacket."

As quickly as it came, the hope deflated and she nodded, forcing a smile, "Well, thanks for letting me borrow it."

She could feel James watching her for a moment before he leaned forward, setting his mug on the coffee table in front of them. Her eyes roamed his body, watching the way his muscles moved. The now familiar ember ignited in her stomach as he reached for her mug, gently taking it from her and setting it next to his. Curiosity now filled her.

"You're taking it with you when you leave today," he said lowly, reaching forward and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Once again breathless, her brows knit together, "why?"

There was that smile again, "so you have another excuse to come to see me again."

"If you wanted to see me, James, you just had to ask." Greta leaned a little closer, curling her leg under her ass on the couch.

"I don't think that's how you operate," his ocean eyes flickered over her, landing on her lips and watching as she spoke.

"Tell me then, after four long hours of knowing me, how exactly do I operate?" She rested her hand on the back of the couch and slid forward so her knees pressed to his thigh, his eyes still locked on her lips until she cleared her throat. "Cat got your tongue?" She teased and he looked up at her with a sly smile on his face.

"I wish," he mumbled sitting up he leaned in close, his nose practically touching hers. He raised one hand, running one of his knuckles down the flushed slope of her neck under her dark hair. "You and your little gang operate on truth and dare," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

"My little gang?" She laughed. "You seem a little old to be playing truth and dare." She teased, leaning in his touch as his fingers brushed under the collar of her shirt.

"Ouch," he nodded, inching closer. "I think you're just scared to play with me," he licked his bottom lip.

"I never lose," she hums, her body gravitating toward him. "If anyone is scared it's you," she whispered.

James laughed nervously, "you're infuriating."

She thought about it, her lips curling into a smile as the right words came to mind, "I dare you to kiss me," she swallowed tightly as his eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes.

James’ eyes were smoldering, boring into hers as he leaned up, one arm on the back of the couch, his other hand coming up to grip her chin lightly.

Greta’s eyes fluttered and started shutting as James leaned in, his lips touching hers gently before pulling away, coming back again, to press a little harder. His hand slid from her chin down her throat, slowly trailing between her breasts before going around to her waist.

His fingers gripped her delicately, as the tip of his tongue traced her lower lip. She parted them and his tongue slipped inside, the piercing a cool shock against hers.

Greta gasped and melted against him as his tongue slid against hers. Her hands didn't know where to go, and she floundered for a second before one of them wrapped around his bicep, fingernails digging in as the kiss go more intense. Her stomach was an explosion of fireworks and he gently bit down on her bottom lip before sucking on it, pulling a moan from the depths of her throat. That mischievous chuckle filled the space between them, taking the place of unbridled tension for just a moment and she let out a giggle as he pulled back. His cheeks were flushed and his lips bitten red. Her chest heaved.

"More," she breathed.

He arched a brow.

"More?"

She nodded and he leaned forward slowly, his head tilting to the side. Lips hovered over hers and they shared a short breath before he pulled back just as she went to kiss him again. He smirked.

"I dare you to beg me for it."

Greta sucked in a breath craving more of him. Her hand wrapped around his bicep and released its hold. She dragged it slowly to the middle of his chest before lifting her palm so only her fingertips were left touching him. She could feel the way his heart was hammering against his own chest, matching the rapid pace of hers.

He looked calm and collected on the outside but his heart gave him away and two can play this game.

She leaned into him ghosting her lips over his jawline, letting his stubble prickle at her kiss bitten lips. Greta nipped at him, leaving a trail of kisses along his cheekbone and up to his ear, and whispered, "make me."

A deep sound that was a mix of a growl and a chuckle left James' chest, as he moved to lock his eyes with hers, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. His hand moved back up her body, landing on her neck as the tip of his thumb ghosted her throat.

"That's not the game, Greta" He whispered, before leaning in and taking her bottom lip between his teeth, gently pulling backward. "I thought you didn't lose"

Greta swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared at him, trying to stifle a moan that wanted to escape as he pulled at her bottom lip. This guy was good. But so was she. Despite how fuzzy he made her brain go, there was a prize here that was going to be hers at any cost.

James' free hand moved softly up her thigh, teasing her through her leggings and touching every nerve that made her want to pounce on him right there.

"I don't lose..." Greta moved to sit herself up, placing her hand on his chest and pushing him gently backwards, "You just haven't given me anything to beg for..." She teased, tracing her tongue up his neck, and nipping the skin on the edge of his jaw.

His eyes narrowed slightly as if trying to guess what she wanted him to do.

"Hmm, you want something to beg for, princess?" He asked, abruptly sitting back up.

With a yelp, Greta found herself caged underneath him, his body hovering over hers as his tongue dragged along her collarbone to her neck.

He stopped at her ear, a low growl of appreciation rumbling out before he whispered, "Maybe we'll both win today."

His teeth raked over her jaw painfully slowly as his hand snaked beneath her. His fingers dug into her back, pulling her hips to collide with his.

A strangled gasp left her lips, forcing a smirk to form on his lips. His long hair fell around his face, tickling her face as he pressed himself against her. Her legs fell open without effort as he rolled between them and gave her exactly what she wanted in the form of pressure from his disco stick.

"James," his name dripped from her lips as her fingers found their way beneath his shirt and dug into his back.

"Almost," he whispered, licking her top lip and pulling away before she could get more of him. "Louder for me," he pressed her, he wasn't going to give her anything until she truly begged him.

Greta huffed, and James buried his face back in her neck, nipping lightly.

“James!” she yelped, and she could feel his grin against her skin. He rolled his hips down against her as he brought his lips back to hers. His tongue swept through her mouth, sliding wetly along hers, piercing sleek against it.

Greta moaned, sucking on his tongue as she wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him closer, hands sliding up and down his inked back.

He let out a whine as she released him and his lips found her neck with ease as he continued to tease her. The pressure from his cock grinding down against her was almost too much. He moaned in her ear and her toes curled, back arching off of the couch.

"Keep saying my name like that, sugar, and you're gonna get all of this and more."

Her eyes rolled back and he tugged at the hem of her shirt, pulling her back down to earth.

"Can we get this off of you?" He asked, his eyes softening before adding, "Please? I want to get a damn good look at you."

"Yes," she breathed as he gave her some room to sit up.

His fingers hooked into the fabric and he helped her raise the arm that was on her tattooed side. He pulled it off slowly, as though he were unwrapping her like a gift. She felt the fabric brush against her tattoo and inhaled a little deeper while her heart thumped in her throat. Finally, the shirt reached her fingertips and it flew somewhere across the apartment as James gripped her waist and his head dived for the top of her breast, placing hot open mouthed kisses all the way toward the center of her chest, all while he pushed her back down to the cushions. His mouth then moved down, over the roughness of her bra and down her belly.

He looked up at her and then smiled before he began to make small circles with the tip of his tongue on her belly. She could feel the piercing gliding against her skin and her breath hitched and they locked eyes.

"I need to hear you ask for it, Greta." Flames licked the inside of her belly and she whined. James's fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings. "Be a good girl."

"Oh fuck" she moaned under her breath, between the way his lips and tongue felt against her body and the way his fingers traced perfectly over her curves, Greta felt like she was going to combust.

Her hips writhed beneath him, urging him to rip the leggings off of her, but he waited needing the words her brain was struggling to form.

James hovered over her stomach, dragging his tongue from her navel up to her neck as his hand gripped her chin. He took her earlobe between his teeth, causing her to gasp, "I said to be a good girl,"

Fuck it. She thought, the fire in her stomach was becoming too much and all she wanted was every bit of him. "Please," she begged between a moan and a whisper, "make me beg for it, please."

Another low chuckle rumbled through him, "as you wish."

He dug his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, and pulled them off painfully slowly, tossing them somewhere in the apartment once she was free of them. He grasped her calf, and pressed a soft kiss to her ankle, ghosting his lips gently up her leg, leaving kisses and gentle nips in his wake. This man really knew how to light a fire under her skin, but there was no doubt in her mind that every second of this torturous pleasure was going to be worth it.

"James..." She whined, biting down on her bottom lip as a jolt of pleasure shot up her spine.

"Patience, angel" He grumbled into the skin of her thigh, moving to place his lips on her hip bone.

His hand moved up to trail his knuckle along her clothed cunt, a smirk forming on his lips. "So wet, just for me... Such a good girl" He pressed more kisses into her skin as his fingertip worked teasing her clit through the black lace.

Greta wasn't sure she could stand the teasing much longer.

"Please, James," She breathed out, a whine lingering at the end of the words, "Please."

"Please, what?" He asked, his lips still softly kissing her thighs on either side of her panties.

"Please, I need to feel you," She begged.

One eyebrow quirked up, "Oh yeah?"

She nodded immediately, whining as his fingers pushed a little harder against her clit, still overtop of the wet fabric.

"Can I take these off, sweetheart?" He asked, tugging at the band of her panties.

Greta nodded desperately, gasping out another ragged “Please,” before James hooked his fingers around the waistband and pulled them down her legs, throwing them to the floor as he leaned in between her legs.

“Ready sweetheart?” James asked, breathing hotly over her bare cunt.

“Oh god, yes!” she groaned, half frustration, half arousal. He lifted the corner of his lips before ducking down and licking a long stripe up her folds. The piercing was still a little cool but added an amazing gliding sensation against her skin.

“James…” she moaned, hands burying deep in his long hair, pulling on the strands as he slowly circled her clit.

The groan that sprang from his throat made goosebumps cascade over her entire body and she shivered in the best way. Her hands came to knot in his hair as he teased her with the tip of his tongue, circling around her clit this time instead of actually touching it. The bead from his piercing just barely grazed the swollen bundle of nerves. Frustrated, she tried to drive her hips harder against him and he chuckled before giving her just a little more. He chuckled and looked up at her, pulling away for only a moment.

"I haven't had breakfast and I want to take my time with you," he purred. "Unless you have somewhere to be."

She shook her head and he smiled.

"Good, then lie back down for me." He paused to dip his head and gently flick her clit. "Please?"

She groaned in frustration, wanting--needing more from his mouth. His plea only egged on her arousal. "I...need," Greta sobbed, circling her hips as he went still, his tongue barely touching her.

He let out a breath, warm heat fanning over her clit, "what do you need sweetheart?" James dove back in, running his tongue through her, flattening it over the one spot that was begging to be touched.

"More," she choked out, "I need more."

"So greedy, little one." He grinned, "but," James licked her again, swirling his tongue around her clit. The piercing driving her mad, "I suppose you've been good, so I'll give you what you want."

Greta whined at his words, feeling him once again dive into her. His tongue lashed at her most sensitive bits. The room filled with the sounds of his mouth sucking and nipping at her arousal creating a symphony with the moans spilling from her lips.

Her eyes slammed shut, feeling the hard muscle of his arm draped over her belly, holding her hips to the leather.

"Stay still for me darlin, like I know you can."

Greta's breath hitched, as she bit down on her bottom lip and let out a whimper. Every piece of her felt like it was on fire and the sweet release she was chasing was inching closer with every flick of his tongue.

"You wanted me to beg, so I'm fucking begging" She moaned, pushing her head back into the cushions of the couch. "Please, James... Please"

A playful smirk crept onto his face as he kissed her thigh, and teased her entrance with the tip of his finger. James pulled her swollen bud between his teeth before sucking on it and shoving his finger into her and curling it against her g-spot.

"Fuck, yes!" She moaned, as a shiver of pleasure shot up her spine, making her head go fuzzy. "Just like that, god that feels good"

James kept his pace, the rhythm of his tongue against her clit matching the curl of his finger, sending Greta into a frenzy as her sounds filled his apartment. She was sure the shop below could hear, but she didn't care. This man knew exactly what he was doing.

"Oh! Oh God, James!" Greta cried out as the world seemed to explode around her.

James didn't stop his relentless attention between her legs though.

A second finger pushed into her, and his groan vibrated up through her body while he continued his onslaught on her clit with his tongue.

Already so sensitive from one orgasm, the second seemed to overcome her without warning. Greta's back arched as she cried out again, her fingers pulling on his hair.

"S-stop - holy shit, stop," She pleaded, her senses overwhelmed and unable to handle anymore.

James pulled away then, the loss of his fingers suddenly making her feel empty. In spite of two mind-shattering orgasms in a row, instead of seeking a reprieve, Greta found herself desperately wanting more.

"You okay?" He asked, licking his lips.

She surged forwards, grabbing his neck and pulling him up to her lips, kissing him and tasting herself.

“More,” she rasped, reaching one hand down to play with his waistband. His hands joined hers and pushed his pyjama pants and briefs down, freeing his hard cock. It slapped against his stomach, thick and long, red at the tip and leaking.

James groaned and bit down on Greta’s lip, making her whimper. She grasped his dick, guiding him between her legs and he rocked his hips against hers, dick sliding through her folds. She gasped and he chuckled tightly.

“Ready sweetheart?” he asked, raising his eyes to hers.

“Please…” she breathed, “I dare you to make me yours” he groaned, pressing his lips hard to hers again.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about that," he groaned as he eased himself into her and Greta raked her fingernails down his back. He filled her up completely and she wound one leg around his waist, her heel digging into his ass as he bottomed out.

"Oh, God!"

He chuckled against her ear.

"It's just me, sweetheart. But thanks for the compliment."

Slowly, his hips began to move slowly, filling her up and forcing a moan to spill from her lips. His lips found their way along her jawline, over the shell of her ear, and eventually to her forehead where he pressed a soft kiss as he pushed himself deeper with another thrust. She cried out and he shushed her gently.

"It's okay. You can take it, can't you?"

It wasn't mocking, more like checking in with her. And for some reason, it was the hottest fucking thing that came out of his mouth. Her entire body shivered and she nodded. He pressed a second kiss to her forehead as his hips sped up.

"Atta girl."

At his words, her cunt clenched around him and a whimper escaped her throat, pulling a small smirk from James.

"You have a little bit of a praise kink, don't you?" He groaned, dipping his head to suck a dark mark onto her the skin of her collarbone.

Greta sucked in a shaky breath, and bit her bottom lip to stifle a moan. The pleasure building up inside her made all her thoughts shoot out of her mind and she wasn't able to form a response outside of letting out a groan and clenching around him once more.

Picking up the pace of his hips, James moved his lips to pepper the side of her neck with kisses that matched his rhythm. "You take me so well, sweet girl.." He mumbled into her, "I'm right here, I've got you..."

"James..." A sob left her throat as the pit of her belly built with the pressure of her arousal.

"You're okay, you can take it..." He reached up and took one of her hands, interlacing their fingers and giving her a reassuring squeeze as his thrusts became quicker. "Come for me once more, beautiful... I'm close" He grunted, before slamming his lips onto her, swallowing a moan.

"James - don't stop!" She whined, bucking up to meet his next thrust.

He burrowed his head into her shoulder, where she felt his teeth graze her skin. The light pain was surprisingly pleasurable when he bit her, an almost feral growl escaping him when she cried out again.

Greta's nails dug into his back then, "James - James, I'm - I'm gonna -"

“Please,” he begged as his hips snapped harder.

The pace was perfect, and just enough to push her right over the edge. She cried out and her back arched as she pressed into him, a ragged moan dripping from her mouth in long, elongated vowels. James fucked her harder and deeper, biting down on his bottom lip until he was grunting and whimpering in her ear. She could hear their skin making the leather couch squeak and then his hips stilled and he came with a beautiful moan, his head falling forward as he bit down into her shoulder. Gently. She smiled and he collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing heavily. His mouth found hers in a sweet and soft kiss that made them both giggle when it broke.

James stared at her and she blushed.

“What?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking about that thing you said about penguins.”

“You were thinking about penguins during sex?” She laughed.

“No, no. No, just now. I was thinking about what I told you about the male penguin bringing his mate a pebble.”

Somehow, they had enough room to roll over so that his back was pressed against the back of the couch and his hand drifted up her waist, lingering at the edge of the tattoo bandage. She shivered at the touch and he smiled as he gently began to trace over the bandage with a featherlight touch. She looked down and smiled.

“This is the pebble?” She asked softly.

“This is the pebble.” Their eyes met. His were so soft. “You wanna go out tonight? And tomorrow?”

“And the next day?” She laughed as he pressed his nose against hers.

“Hey, if you’re offering,” he chuckled as he brushed her hair away from her face.

She stared at him, tracing every inch of his face before a smile broke out across hers.

“Yes. I do.”

“Perfect,” he breathed as she tucked herself into his chest.

He played with her hair and she closed her eyes. She had to thank Wanda for getting her out of her comfort zone.

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