Bound in Ink - Jimin NSFW

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"Well? What do you think?" Jimin asked, his sweet smile beaming on his beautifully cute face; a face that was a complete contradiction to the rest of his body, which was well-built, muscly and was covered in tattoos from his neck to his toes. He held his long arms out as he stood in the centre of the empty room.

You looked around, your hand resting on your shoulder bag as you took in what your best friend had been waiting weeks to show you. You nodded, "sure." Your reply came out much more half-heartedly than you would have liked, and you watched as his smile slowly dissipated. "No! I mean, it's great! Spacious, clean. It's just hard to imagine you building your empire in here when there's no furniture."

Jimin nodded. "Yeah - but all that's coming soon! I'll have benches here," he gestured to one part of the room, "here," then to another, "and here! Oh, and over here we're going to have a piercing section - and here..." Jimin's excited voice drowned out as you watched him get more and more excited over his new shop. He'd finally got his license to tattoo, and he'd graduated his business course. He'd begun to live his dream - a dream he didn't know he had until three or so years ago when he'd discovered what tattoos looked, smelled and even felt like.

He was one of those people who got addicted as soon as his first tattoo had finished, and it just spiralled from there. Now his dreams of becoming an artist had vanished, and had been replaced by something new. Something stereotypically dangerous. You couldn't lie, this change in Jimin was striking, and somewhat sexy. You'd always been attracted to Jimin, even when you met him during your teenage years you'd fancied him somewhat. Yet now you were looking at him in a different way. You weren't sure if it was down to the tattoos or his innate joy, but there was something about his appearance that made your knees buckle and your vagina drip. Oh yes, he was beautiful inside and out, and no amount of friendship would ever stop you from thinking dirty things about him.

Days after you were introduced to his new shop, you were back there helping him set up. Walls had been painted to his liking, the sign was up, and the benches had been laid out precisely. The only thing left to do was set up the guns. Jimin had spent most of the day assigning guns to workstations, and setting up his own. Once completed, it was announced to you by a high-pitched buzzing sound and Jimin's voice screeching "ah-ha!" as if he'd just had a eureka moment. His eyes darted up to you. "Done!"

"Well done."

"Wanna try it out?"

You looked at him. He couldn't really mean what you thought he meant... could he? "Hold it?"

Jimin laughed. There's that smile. "I wouldn't fucking trust you with a needle."

"Hey!"

"I mean, wanna be my first customer? Come on, you've wanted one for ages - and it's free."

He was right, you had wanted one for ages. One of those small, Tumblr-esque tattoos. The ones that were so minimalistic and cute but also meaningful. You weren't sure what you wanted, but you made the mistake of telling Jimin, a man who never forgets a thing. He put his foot on the pedal twice, making the gun whirr to life. It intimidated you a bit: the thought that your best friend would be altering your body without the proper time for you to mentally prepare yourself. "I don't know."

"Well, I'm not going to pressure you into anything you don't want to do. I'll just leave some designs here, though. For you to... just look at. No pressure."

He said "no pressure" but you were still feeling it. "Fine - but something small!"

His face lit up like a child in a candy store. "What and where?" You picked your design and lifted up your arm, gesturing to your ribcage under your armpit. Jimin flinched. "For your first one? It's going to hurt like hell."

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