“What are you getting today, brat?” Sukuna drawls, dipping his pen into the ink with that same crease in between his eyebrows. You’d been coming to him for your tattoos for the past few months now, requesting him every time you stepped foot into the parlor.

It had been a few weeks since the two of you had “confessed” — if you could call it that — your mutual feelings. On Sukuna’s part, it was more him admitting that you weren’t as annoying as other people, and that he tolerated you. You knew him well enough by then to know that meant he liked you. But for some reason, you hadn’t gotten any farther than a situationship with him.

Showing him your inspiration photo, you lay back in the chair, staring at him as he preps your desired patch of skin for your tattoo. Obviously, he’s no idiot.

“Is there something you need?” he snaps.