cali 𖤐 @stratossphere - Tumblr Blog

i am BEGGING for ville x tattoo artist reader . porn w plot or sm like he fucks reader after a few sessions and reader thinks he hates her but he’s frustrated or whatever IDKKKKKK

ink | v.v

the problem client has a thing for his artist.

warnings: smut, fem!reader, fingering, protected sex, reader has a hand over her mouth, just people being straight up horny

word count: 7.4k

a/n: this took me such a long time but i’m proud of it :) also once again i appreciate all of your genius ideas

tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @4377666 @althaiascure

— —

Fuck. He was coming again.

You were always happy to take on new clients. You really were. But ever since Ville Valo's usual artist had moved and holed himself away what seemed to be for good, you'd been stuck with his bitchiest client.

Ville was...interesting. Not horrible, per se, like some of your clients definitely were, but he was certainly one of the nitpickers. It had been a while since you'd last seen him, and the last time he'd been in was to get some chick's name tattooed on his chest (or at least you'd assumed, considering he'd refused to tell you what 'Mäy' was), but even then he'd complained and spent the whole time watching you work meticulously.

And yet, despite the nitpicking, here he was back for more.

You would've been lying if you said you might've been a little nervous not because he was picky, but because he was really fucking hot. Obviously, bitchy attitude or not, you couldn't deny that he was attractive, and the ones with an attitude were definitely your type. But you'd literally been tattooing a name on him, so you'd held back on any of those thoughts.

But holding back on those thoughts became a lot harder when you saw him walk into the shop from where you were cleaning up your studio from your last tattoo. His hair had grown considerably, he looked a lot healthier than the last time you'd seen him, and he still had that unimpressed frown on his face as he talked to your receptionist. You leaned back in your stool so that he could see you from where he was standing, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over and noticed you were there.

"Wow. I almost forgot you existed." You said truthfully, smiling as he came around to step into your studio. Considering his original tattoo artist had worked with you, you had seen him a lot back in the day when he had been filling up quickly on tattoos after he'd started with his wrist. Albeit, you'd never actually talked to him before his first tattoo with you, but you'd known him and he'd known you regardless.

"Yes. Hello to you too." He said dryly, waving a piece of paper in his hand as he shut the door of your studio behind him after stepping fully into the room. "I'm getting a coverup."

"Which one?" You were warily eyeing both the half-sleeve of portraits he had on one arm and the full sleeve he had on the other, because covering up either of those sounded extremely unappealing considering how dark the ink work was on both. He chuckled lowly as you pushed back in your stool to let him sit down in the chair.

"The last one you gave me." He admitted, handing over the piece of paper in his hand when you offered your hand out for it. It was a picture of a woman, and you were satisfied at getting the chance to do another portrait. He seemed to have an addiction to them, considering that every time you saw him, he always came back with more.

"Shit. Was my handwriting bad?" You joked, consciously aware of how long this tattoo was going to take, and additionally how long that meant you'd be around him shirtless. You were really trying to harness maturity here, but you couldn't be held responsible for what occurred inside your own brain. Although, with eyes as intense as his, you weren't sure he couldn't see right inside with you.

"No, it was acceptable. Things just change, and I'm a new man these days." Ville said calmly as he watched you get started on his stencil, his fingers drumming in a concise rhythm on the arm of the chair as he spoke. You shot him a knowing look.

"So I was right. It was a girlfriend's name." You'd been trying to guess the last time he'd been in the shop, but he hadn't even given you a hint. He'd originally said that it was not his girlfriend's name, but now it was pretty obvious that there was no way he had been telling the truth. He paused for a second, sighing softly.

"Not exactly." Once again, very vague. You rolled your eyes because you knew he couldn't see, laughing softly to yourself.

"One time, I tattooed a guy's name as a tramp stamp on a client, and then the next day her boyfriend came in screaming in my face because I tattooed his brother's name on his girlfriend." You revealed conversationally, knowing that if you didn't say something, Ville would be perfectly fine with letting the room fall into dead silence for the entire predicted four hours he'd be in your chair. He had been the client infamous for bringing handfuls of CDs to every single one of his appointments and blasting them loud enough to fill every single studio on the shop before he'd been dumped on you, but you had a feeling he refused to do so with you because he thought you wouldn't like the same music. Which meant you were stuck with his hatred for conversation.

"That feels pointed." Ville muttered, tilting his head to shoot you a look just as you glanced over at him. You snorted, busying yourself fully with the stencil so that you could avoid that intense gaze.

"It might've been. I don't know. I like to get at least a little bit of interesting information out of my clients once in a while." You said coyly, hearing the sound of his fingers picking up pace where they were still drumming on the arm of his chair. He paused for another moment, and when you glanced up to see if he was ignoring you, you were once again met with his startlingly-green eyes. He sucked his teeth.

"You're not going to like the story. No women do." He said very presumptuously, looking away from you with disinterest and instead leaning back in the chair slightly to look up at the ceiling. Once again, because he wasn't looking at you, you rolled your eyes.

"I've tattooed ballsacks, assholes, and dicks. I'm sure your story won't get me too bad." You said dryly, finishing up the stencil before you slid away from your desk and over to his chair to present it to him. "Look okay?"

"Yeah. Looks great." As he said it, Ville looked like he was trying to decide whether or not to actually tell you the story he was dancing around, and you were really trying to remain professional and not laugh as you watched him do so.

"Alright. Take off your shirt, and you can tell me the horrific story while I put this on." You instructed, remembering that the 'not' name was tattooed on the right side of his chest. He stood up to shrug off his jacket then, and you noticed he was looking at you curiously.

"You've really tattooed a dick?" He didn't sound like he believed you. You nodded, focusing your mind fully on the conversation at hand so that it didn't wander too far on the sight of him starting to pull his shirt over his head. When his head was blocked by the shirt and he couldn't see you, however, you let your eyes linger on the symbol tattooed on his lower stomach momentarily.

"Yep. And it was a cross, too." You muttered, shaking your head as you remembered how that appointment had gone. Every time you started to feel down about how difficult Ville sometimes made his appointments with you, you remembered those times and immediately started to feel a lot better. That pulled a slight chuckle out of him (only slight, mind you) as he tossed his shirt and jacket onto the chair meant for people tagging along against the wall.

"Well, I suppose you won't be too offended, then." He surmised, sitting back down in the chair in front of you with his top half now bare. You were always amazed with how well-sculpted his torso was considering you'd seen him drink enough to kill a medium-sized child in all the times he'd been inside the shop. "It is a name, but not of a person. It's uh...named after my ex-girlfriend's uh...you know. Private area, so to speak."

Okay. That did take you aback a little bit. You certainly didn't let it show, however, and only raised your eyebrows as you gingerly began to lay out the stencil over his chest and over the last tattoo you had done for him.

"Huh. Never would've guessed that one." You shot him an amused look, but he only looked surprised that you'd taken it so well. You silently wondered what kind of conservative nuns he'd been telling that story to. "Why 'Mäy', then?"

"Now I'm just going to sound stupid." He mused, lifting his arm above his head so that you could get a better angle on applying the stencil. God, he smelled good...

"Once again, a cross on a dick. You can't get much stupider." You repeated with reassurance, peeling the stencil and then inspecting the placement with satisfaction. You then pointed to the mirror across from the chair. "You can go check and make sure you like where it is."

"You know the American show SpongeBob, yes?" He asked absentmindedly as he got up to look at himself in the mirror, narrowing his eyes as he looked over his reflection. You were praying that he liked the placement, because you really felt as if it was in the best place for the shape of his chest.

"Yeah. My nephew watches that show all the time." You said, completely unsure of where he was going with this story as you waited for the verdict on whether or not he liked the stencil placement. "Look okay?"

"Do you think it does? I want the darkest part over the name." That surprised you. He was asking you instead of forcing you to bend to his bottomless pit of adjustments and requests. You motioned for him to come back, then narrowed your eyes at the stencil to make sure that the part where you would be putting the darkest parts of ink was covering the name. It was.

"Yeah. That'll cover it up completely." You nodded, moving out of the way to let him get back into the chair for the last time before you actually began to put the needle to his skin. "SpongeBob?"

"Oh, yeah. It's uh...well, you know, it's a kid's show, but it's damn funny. And there's a snail on that show that meows." Ville explained, motioning his hands animatedly as you set up your gun and the ink you would be using while you reclined the chair back so that he was laying down at the best angle for you to tattoo him.

"I vaguely remember that, yeah." Now you had even less of an idea where he was going with this story. His explanation still didn’t feel like a viable reason to allow him to call someone’s intimate areas the name of a snail.

"Well, when he meows, it sounds just like 'Mäy' in Finnish. Which doesn't really mean anything, so I kind of just made it into a nickname." He must've been able to see the bewildered look on your face, because he really sounded like he was trying to prove a solid reason for getting such a strange thing tattooed on himself. "That, or Gary, which is the snail's name."

"You called her pussy Gary?" You couldn't help yourself from blurting that out bluntly out of genuine shock, and you immediately winced. "Sorry. That was a bad way of saying that."

"No, no. That's about the best reaction I've gotten, actually." He muttered, shaking his head as he clearly thought about it. "It was a dumb thing to do, and I told every single person that asked me, so it's my own fault."

"Well, I'm glad I was apart of your terrible decision. And I'm glad you got Mäy tattooed instead of Gary." You snickered, letting your hand rest on his chest with your tattoo gun now buzzing in your hand. "You ready?"

"Stick it in."

For once, Ville actually seemed to be in the mood to talk, but for most of the appointment, it was vague answers and a mostly-uninterested tone. In all honesty, you were kind of bored with the man everyone claimed to be one of the most interesting on the planet.

So, when the tattoo was done, you were a little relieved. Sure, you were a fan of the fact that Ville was your best tipper out of all of your clients, and he at least had some interesting stories to tell, but something about him just made you a little uneasy. And it didn't help that you'd just sat through five hours of him being shirtless under your hand.

"Okay. Look in the mirror and give me your collective score." You said as you turned your gun off, letting him get up and out of the chair and then trying not to stare too hard at the muscles of his back as he stretched out.

"That felt really fucking quick." Ville commented as he stepped over to inspect himself in the mirror, tone sounding pleased with the fact. You stared at him for different reasons then, because that had felt like the longest tattoo session of your life, but didn't say anything on the matter. At least he was having fun. "Looks great. Maya Deren wouldn't be too appalled."

"Why thank you. Sure you don't want anything else added?" You asked as you peeled your gloves off, feeling more than relieved that he didn't seem to have any qualms with your work. You had no idea how he'd found problems with a three letter words, but not a portrait of someone's entire face.

"No, that'll be it."

—

And that was the last you saw of him. You expected he'd turn up in a couple years' time when he eventually found something else (or maybe got another name or face tattooed and needed that covered up as well) to get done, but you certainly didn't expect to see him when you walked into work hungover and tired only three days later.

"Jesus Christ." You nearly jumped out of your skin when you walked into your studio to see him already sitting there. He was handsome, you couldn't deny, but he was certainly scary when you weren't expecting him. "Didn't I just see you?"

"I came in for touch-ups." He explained, stretching out in the chair as if he couldn't have possibly belonged anywhere else. You narrowed your eyes.

"You need touch-ups? After three days?" This fucker. Seriously. He must've hated you. Or he just lived to torture every tattoo artist in your shop in general. Either one worked. "I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think you're my most difficult client."

"I'm not going to be back for a long time, and I figured I should make up for my last appointment." He scoffed, crossing his legs and looking over at you where you were still standing by the door of your own studio. You checked back in mentally, closing the door and setting your bag down on the floor before running your hands over your face.

"Alright, I guess. I appreciate the makeup." You mused as you walked over to where none of your stuff was set up, silently cursing him for arriving so early on the one day you'd come in late due to how shitty you'd felt when you had awoken that morning.

"What kind of hangover is it?" As you set up, his question surprised you, and you looked back to see him almost smiling. You didn't think you'd ever truly seen the sight in all of the appearances he had made in your shop over the years.

"What?" Was it really that easy to tell? Sure, you'd been forced to rush considering the fact that your still-kind-of-drunk brain had convinced you that the sound of your alarm was still apart of your dream, but you'd showered, at least.

As a matter of fact, he looked a bit cleaner than usual today, too.

"You're clearly hungover. What's it off of?" He repeated, and you could've sworn you saw him eyeing you over as he spoke. You deadpanned, because usually someone who looked hungover looked like shit, before sighing.

"Vodka shots." You admitted, pausing where you'd been in the middle of setting up to narrow your eyes at him. "Do I really look that bad?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." Those words took you by surprise, and you let your lips part slightly as he now visibly checked you out. What the fuck. You were really trying to ignore the way your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as he shrugged. "I won't make you tattoo on a vodka hangover. I don't actually need the touch-ups."

You just stared at him, trying to comprehend both of the things that he had just said to you and failing to do so for both. "So...why are you here then?"

"Who knows why anyone is anywhere. I suppose it might have something to do with the fact that you're one of the only people I know that's bearable to be around in this godforsaken country." He spoke so casually, as if every one of his words wasn't shocking you more and more as they came out of his mouth one by one. Once again, you stared at him for a second before responding.

"Huh. I really thought you didn't like me." Multiple sessions filled to the unbearable brim with dry responses, irritated adjustments, and an overall air of disinterest had convinced you on the fact, but here he was in your studio requesting touch-ups he didn't even need with money he didn't even have to spend.

"Everyone thinks that. I've been told I'm a bit of a raging cunt." He snorted, waving you off when you went to resume your setting up in an attempt to bring your brain back into function. "Don't bother. The tattoo is fucking perfect."

"Well, I feel bad now. You already paid a deposit on the session." You insisted, unable to bite back a grin at his compliment of your handiwork. You weren't sure you wanted him to leave quite yet, despite the fact that you'd been more than eager to get him out of the shop the last time you'd seen him. He just seemed...different today. More at ease.

"Oh well." He said simply, shifting so that he could slip his hand into his pocket before he came up with a pack of Marlboro Lights and a shitty-looking red lighter. "Will smoke detectors go off in here?"

"No, they're broken." You waved him on to give him the go ahead to smoke, coming back over to where your working stool was before sitting down so that you were near his chair. "You're really going to pay to be in here for no ink?"

"I don't mind. It'll give you time to get over your hangover before you stick a needle into the next poor bastard who comes in here." He said with finality, that half-grin now permanently on his face as he spoke. He then absentmindedly offered his cigarette out to you, and when you looked at him in surprise, he held it out further. "It helps. Even if you don't smoke."

"I think it's against the rules to share spit with my tattoo clients." You teased as you took a long drag off of his cigarette. You did in fact smoke (albeit not his brand), and the soft burn in your lungs made you feel a little less jittery. His look changed at that, and you immediately realized how that sounded, but he didn't actually seem to mind. In fact, by the way his eyes dropped to your lips for just a split second before he was looking back to you, he didn't mind at all.

"Yeah? So you're against sharing spit in all forms?" This whole interaction was leading into a place where you really should not have let it be going, as Ville was in fact your client and you were in fact at work, but you couldn't help yourself. You weren't dumb enough to ignore that you had one of the hottest men you had ever seen in your studio currently flirting his ass off with you.

And, on top of that, it was obvious that Ville had a goal in mind. You could tell by the way he was obviously freshly-showered and in a much lighter mood, and you could definitely tell by the way he was currently wasting time away without a tattoo needle in him despite paying the deposit for an entire session. You shrugged, grinning slyly.

"Mm. Maybe not. Depends on which client I'd be sharing spit with." You said, acting as if you couldn't have possibly caught on to what he was trying to say. He nodded, watching you more than closely as you leaned over to grab an empty ink cap to ash the cigarette still between your fingers into.

"You know, I know a great hangover cure that works better than anything else." Ville said casually before he was turning in his chair so that he was facing you to the point where you were almost knee-to-knee. He still smelled just as good as he had last time you'd seen him, and you wondered if your head was spinning more because of your hangover or the man in front of you. You passed his cigarette back.

"Yeah? What's that?" You had a pretty good idea, but you liked this little game that he was playing. He did have a very appealing voice, after all. He took a long drag off of the returned cigarette, holding your gaze intensely the entire time before he spoke again.

"Fucking." The way he drew out the word almost made you lose it. Almost. He never stopped staring at you, studying your features as he gave his certified suggestion, and you spluttered in turn as you swallowed that information.

"Really? In a tattoo studio?" You managed to mumble out, your eyes dropping to where his free hand moved to rest over your knee. Your body had never reacted so viscerally to such a small touch, but that's exactly what it was doing now, and you felt your heartbeat in your throat. Among other places.

"I've done worse." When you looked back up at him, he was already smirking at you, and he looked nothing but sure of himself. He reached out to crush his cigarette out in the ink cap that was sitting on your table next to his chair, but he never moved back where his face had come right up in front of yours, and then he was kissing you.

Smoke drew out of his nose in thin tendrils as he kissed you softly, one hand coming up to cup your cheek while the other hooked under your stool and pulled it closer to him. You knew that this was extremely unprofessional, and that your boss would've kicked your ass if she would've seen what you were currently doing on paid time, but all you did was deepen the kiss as your knees brushed heavily against his.

"Are you sure?" This still didn't feel completely real, and you found yourself pulling back from the kiss as you looked at him with slight concern in your eyes. You were trying to let his plaguing indifference get to you, but it wasn't exactly easy. He didn't respond, just held your gaze tensely with arousal burning deep in his irises before he was hooking his fingers in your front belt loops and pulling you further forwards.

As your lips connected once again, you were quickly crawling into his lap, hands cupping either side of his face while his arms wrapped strongly around your hips to keep you against him as the both of you kissed hungrily. This was definitely not at all what your studio was meant for, and you didn't even know if your chair could healthily take the weight of two full grown adults, but you were too intoxicated by the taste of his tongue to care.

"Does the door lock?" Ville asked against your lips breathlessly after a moment, one hand holding himself in the chair and the other pushing underneath your shirt as you rocked your hips just slightly in his lap. His voice stuttered at that point, and his hand dropped from under your shirt to hold you in place tightly by your hip. You shook your head.

"No. The walls are thin, too." Although you normally would've been put off by those factors (in fact, you never would've caught yourself dead having sex anywhere near where you worked on a normal day), you could barely get them off your chest quick enough before you were kissing Ville again, starting to roll your hips again despite his grip.

"Can you be quiet, or am I going to have to put a hand over your mouth?" After a second, Ville broke away to speak those bold words into the open air, stealing the breath right from your lungs as he did so. When you didn't respond, mostly because you didn't trust yourself to form coherent thoughts in that moment, he nipped at your lip. "Turn around."

"But—" You were already in his lap, and you hadn't even removed any items of clothing yet, so you had no idea what he was planning. You had already fallen too deep into a haze of arousal to really care about anything other than him fucking you, so you felt panic creeping up the back of your neck at the thought of having to pull away from him. He shushed you softly, interrupting your protest.

"It'll be okay, love. We have time." Ville cooed, his head tipping forward so that he could press soft, warm kisses to your neck as he coaxed you into complying with his request. However, lucky for him, you were quickly becoming entranced by a man who you had started off your day thinking you hated, and you were moving to turn in his arms with just the touch of his lips on your sensitive skin. If any of your coworkers (who knew Ville very well, and not in a good way, considering the reputation his loud music and excessive drinking had brought him with his last artist) could see you now, you never would've heard the end of it.

Ville's hands stayed on you to guide you along with your own movements until you were laying with your back flush against his chest and your legs between his, his chin tucked over your shoulder the entire time. You felt your heart rate picking up when his hands began to explore; his fingertips on one hand dipping under your shirt hem while the other hand moved to rub over your thigh.

"You are so beautiful." His voice was like a song in your ear as his hands crept higher and higher, and you could only try to gasp air into your lungs as his fingers moved to find the button of your pants. The sound of your zipper slowly pulling open after he'd undone your button was enough to make your head spin violently. "I have to admit something."

"Yeah?" You were able to breathe out as your hand ghosted over his where he was just beginning to push it past your currently-open zipper, your thighs beginning to press together as he got closer and closer to where you really needed him.

"Every time you tattoo me, all I can do is picture what you'll look like when I fuck you." His voice barely made it past your ear as he suddenly drew both hands away from you, making the impatience sear in your chest before it was quickly soothed when he began to push your pants down your hips on either side of you. "God, I've wanted you for so long."

Well shit. If you had known that, this would've happened a lot sooner than today after knowing each other for around a decade.

"Ville. Please." You couldn't take his filthy mouth paired with the lack of his touch, and your plead was bursting from your lips before you'd even fully kicked off your pants once he'd pushed them down far enough. You were now almost bare in his arms, and you felt like you were going insane.

"Shh." Just as he shushed your impatience, Ville's fingertips touched to your clit for the first time, and your back arched involuntarily as your breathing audibly picked up at the feeling. Even with the first slow circle that his fingertips rubbed on your clit you were moaning, and Ville's free hand clapped over your mouth just in time to hide the sound. "Does that feel good, darling?"

You couldn't respond, but you knew he could tell by the subtle way your back was arching towards his touch as his fingers began to circle faster on your clit. His fingers were skilled, and in that moment you understood exactly why someone had not only let him call their pussy the name of an animated snail, but had also condoned him getting the sound said animated snail makes tattooed on himself.

You moaned hard against his hand when he slowly dipped two fingers into you, the new sensation making your entire body shudder as he continued to shush you softly in your ear. You were slightly worried about the idea of someone coming into your studio to check on you, but he seemed as if he couldn't have had less of a care in the world. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was leaving his hand a little loose over your mouth on purpose just so that he would be able to hear your moans.

"Slow down. Let me have fun." He purred in your ear at your squirmy movements and badly-controlled voice, his legs trapping you between themselves slightly to prevent you from moving any further. You mentally blanched through the fog in your brain at the implication that he was going to enjoy you allowing him to take his time fucking his fingers into you more than you would in any way, unable to respond to his request but instead trying your best to settle your overreactive nerves.

However, every attempt at calming yourself was immediately washed away by the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body as Ville pumped his fingers deep and slow inside of you. You were completely at the mercy of his skilled touch; and he knew it too. You could tell he was enjoying his own little game with every shift of his fingers on your lips that allowed for the sharp sound of your voice to escape into the painfully-quiet room for a split second before he was quickly rendering you silent once again.

Ville may have been able to keep up this game for what you feared was an admirably long time, but you were starting to feel as if you were going insane, and you couldn't wait anymore. Your shaky fingers found Ville's hand against your mouth before you were peeling his own digits away from your lips, a whimper escaping once you were free to speak.

"I need you. In me. Please." You pleaded, your words stumbling out of your mouth unevenly as he continued to curl his fingers into you throughout your entire sentence. Never in your life could you have ever guessed that you'd ever find yourself begging a client to fuck you right there in your own tattoo chair, but Ville Valo wasn't just any client.

And not any client could use their fingers the way Ville Valo currently was.

"Can you handle it?" God, he was cocky. Sure, it had you a lot more weak in the knees than you were willing to admit, but that was nobody's business but your own. And you were sure it wasn't like he was going to decline your request even if it was revealed that you couldn't handle getting fucked in such a quiet environment. You, however, nodded quickly.

"Yeah. Promise." You didn't know if your answer was discernible between babbling and hurried, but at this point you really didn't care anymore. You had an end goal just as much as Ville did, and you really wanted it. "Please baby. I want you now."

"Yeah? How bad do you want it?" As he spoke, Ville gently pulled his fingers from inside you just as his hand dropped completely away from your mouth yet continued to let you hold onto it where you'd been holding it away. You gasped in a shaky breath at the feeling, shifting your hips in the confines of his legs on either side of you.

"I was so close, Ville. I'm begging you." You whined pathetically, pressed back far enough into his chest to where you could feel his warm breath against your cheek. He didn't respond, just shushed you softly once again, before suddenly his fingertips were brushing against your lips and he was pressing his long fingers into your mouth.

You savored the sound of his deep hum of arousal behind you as you sucked the taste of yourself off of his digits, swirling your tongue suggestively as you felt him begin to shift in a way that was not at all inconspicuous underneath you. You almost had him where you wanted him, and you could tell that his patience wasn't going to last much longer than yours had.

“Be patient, love. I’ll give you anything you want.” All too quickly, and despite his words, Ville was drawing his fingers out of your mouth. For a split second you felt frustration taking over at his refusal to give you even a hint of what you so desperately wanted, but your emotions were quickly settled when you felt him fumbling behind you.

He was undoing his belt.

You turned back to watch him, lip drawn between your teeth to (poorly) hide your eager grin as you listened to the sound of the metal buckle clinking. Ville clearly noticed you watching, and he was quick to catch you in a kiss as his hands hurriedly peeled his zipper open before he was slipping his jeans down his hips just enough to free his cock.

“Do you have a condom?” Through the haze in your own head, you pulled yourself together enough to mentally slap yourself in the face, because of course you didn’t have a condom. However, you never got the chance, because within seconds Ville had fumbled his wallet out of his jeans and had produced the requested condom.

Even with the tension and aroused urgency in the room, you couldn’t help but take a moment to snicker. “I didn’t realize you had already planned this shit out.”

“Maybe I might’ve been desperately hoping.” Ville hummed in joint amusement, his lips dipping to the crook of your neck as you turned away with the sound of him ripping the condom open. You didn’t miss the way one of his hands rubbed fleetingly across your ass as you repositioned yourself so that you were straddling him while still facing away as he visibly ate you alive with his eyes. “I have a thing for the ones that don’t like me.”

You laughed softly at that as he rolled the condom on. You definitely liked him now if nothing else, and you were about to reassure him that he really wasn’t as insufferable as he sometimes came off as, before you were abruptly thrown off by the feeling of the head of his cock sliding against your clit. He kept his free hand on your hip to assure that you couldn’t gain the upper hand against his merciless teasing, sliding his tip through your pussy a few more times before he was slowly pushing into you.

“Oh my god.” You whimpered out unconsciously, crumbling as if you were boneless against his chest almost immediately as he began to slowly fuck his cock up into you. His breathing had gone ragged the second that he’d pushed into you, and you could feel his chest heaving against your back as your ass pressed flush down into his lap and on his cock.

“Yeah. Fuck, just like that.” Ville encouraged as he ate up your pliance, one of his arms wrapping tight around your hips to hold you still as he fucked you smoothly. His thrusts were full and slow, and you silently wondered how someone could be so precise with such a pleasing torture as you moaned dizzily.

Despite how delicious the filthy mix of skin-on-skin and the shaky sounds falling from your lips in an increasingly-steady stream were, subtlety was close to flying out the window, and Ville was soon placing his free hand back over your mouth as he whispered for you to shut that pretty mouth. There was no space between your bodies now, and you felt as if you were molding backwards into him as his lips dragged hot against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I know you wanted me. You touch more than anyone that’s ever tattooed me.” He cooed knowingly in your ear, his words only slightly separated by soft groans at the feeling of his cock mind-numbingly deep inside of you. He only continued as your face burned hot at the feeling of being found out for actions you had assumed were unnoticeable. “You needed me to fuck you bad, didn’t you, love?”

You couldn’t respond verbally, but you nodded as best you could as one hand covered his where he was still holding your hips tight against him. You felt as if you couldn’t put your scrambled brain back together enough to do anything else, and the pleasure was becoming too overwhelming for you to be able to just sit there and take it.

As fingers gripped tightly at skin and you moved desperately along with each other, the build of primal urgency between the two of you was climbing fast as you both chased your highs with desperation that could no longer be pushed down. Your head was almost resting back against Ville’s shoulder now, and his face was pressed into your neck to muffle his own loud groans.

“I can’t last. Holy shit, you feel so good.” He breathed out in ecstasy against your skin, his words drawn out and strained as the pace of his hips rolling up into you gradually starting to increase as he reached that near-hysteric level of pleasure.

You wiggled your hips down on his cock as you shifted and fussed in his arms, the pleasure of him fucking right into your sweet spot making you begin to shake and jolt in his arms harder than what you could cope with. Every inch of your skin felt hot and tingly, and your heart was racing in your chest as he grabbed your hand where it was over his as he held you and laced your fingers together.

Yeah, Ville Valo definitely wasn’t just any client.

He still didn’t let up his tight seal on your mouth as he continued to muffle your pleasure-drunk moans into almost nothing, so you had no way to warn him when you finally reached your climax. The added impact of the continued thrusts of his cock heightened your orgasm considerably, and your hips jolted hard and involuntarily as you close-to-hyperventilated through the pleasure that was igniting your every nerve.

Ville let out a long, stuttered groan right against your ear before you could tell he was cumming too, his grip tightening considerably on your hip while his hand dropped clean away from your mouth as he chased his own high. His thrusts were sloppy and desperate, but you still found yourself pressing your knuckles to your lips to replace his hand as you shook and whimpered through the aftershocks of his cock still sliding into you after your orgasm had faded into sharp sensitivity.

When Ville finally slowed to a stop as his still-ragged breathing sounded right alongside yours, his hand rubbed absentmindedly against your hip where he had let your hand go due to the impact of his climax. The room felt a little warmer than it had ten minutes ago, but you didn’t dare pull away from him yet as you tried to bring yourself down out of space and back into your brain.

“Fuck. If only all those fangirls knew what you were really like.” You mused hoarsely, your voice feeling dry in your throat after having Ville’s hand over your mouth for so long. When you regrettably had to force yourself to slowly pull off of his cock and turn out of his lap and onto your feet, you were met with just the smallest curl of his lips at your words.

“I told you I have a thing for the ones that don’t like me.” He reminded you coyly, clearly eyeing you as you focused yourself on retrieving and redressing in the pants you had abandoned on the floor. He was then up soon after you, peeling off his condom and discarding it in a trashcan that was normally only used for tattoo supplies. You snorted, not bothering to draw your eyes away while he tucked himself back into and rezipped his jeans considering he really wasn’t ashamed of his own stare.

“I thought it was obvious, but I wouldn’t have done any of that if I didn’t like you.” Your smart tone wasn’t lost on him, and you had barely pulled your pants and underwear back up over your hips before he was right up in your personal space with his eyes on yours as if he had deemed your pupils his home.

“Yeah? What are you going to do when I come back?” He sounded as if he was mostly curious, but you didn’t miss the way his pitch dropped as he studied you. You quirked your eyebrows as you finished redressing, not pulling back away from him.

“Depends on whether or not you’re getting a tattoo dedicated to someone when I see you next.” You couldn’t help yourself, alright? If he hadn’t been prepared for jokes, he should have never told you in the first place.

Ville rolled his eyes then, pulling back to shake his head as you laughed to yourself. You were paying half a mind to the fact that you were definitely going to have to do a serious wipe-down of your tattoo chair once he left the shop.

“Just…don’t quit on me like the last one did.” Although that was worded as concern over potentially losing a second tattoo artist in a span of a few years, you could see the suggestive look on Ville’s face as he said it, and you couldn’t hide your smile despite trying to cope with the fact that your time with Ville would soon be up for the next foreseeable year (at the very least).

“I’ll be right here where I was next time you come back.” You promised, knowing that even if it wasn’t for a while, you would always look forward to the time you got to see Ville Valo again. Maybe for other reasons now than before, but the notion still applied. You were sad to see that he had his shirt back on and all of his stuff together, but you knew he’d end up back on the shop’s doorstop with a half-soggy pack of cigarettes in one hand sooner or later. He neared the door then, and you felt your heart jolt as he winked at you.

“Who knows. Maybe I’ll actually get the ink I paid for next time I see you.” To your surprise, instead of immediately leaving, Ville pulled you in then, not giving you much room to protest before he was kissing you slowly. The taste, though now familiar, made your composure swim dangerously, and you fisted one hand in the worn material of his shirt as you indulged the urge to deepen the kiss. It was hard to break away when the both of you finally forced yourselves to. “Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Valo. I’ll see you when the booze sales go up again.”

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