Choso had been a tattoo artist for several years, and in all his years of working as one, he'd never been more tempted by one quite like you. He didn't know what it was about you, but he is obsessed, to say the least. Unlike others, though, he would show his interest in subtle ways, such as intimate brushes to the skin he'd tattoo on, whispering small praises to you as he tattoo'ed your soft skin, and refuse any tips from you.

He didn't know what it was about you; maybe it was the way your hair fell in your face as you spoke, the way your teeth showed as you smile, or the way you'd let out soft whimpers of pain the moment the needle touched your skin. Or maybe it was all of you he was absolutely enthralled by. Hard to tell, but all he knew was that he wanted you, in several ways.

On a particular Saturday, you walked into his parlor. He smiled at the sight of you, ushering you over to the register to talk business and whatnot. He found himself staring at your lips several times when you were not looking as you talked, he was mesmerized. As soon as you described the design you want, he ushered you into his room and sat you down on the bed, hand brushing against your shoulder.

He perked up as he heard where you want the tattoo. On the spine..?, he thought to himself. The thought of being that close to you, breath on your back, lips grazing your skin, fingers touching your spine as he worked his way down to your— anyways. He laid you down on the tattoo bed, gently rolling up your shirt.

"You ready?", he asked, as he grabbed the tattoo needle and positioned it at the top of your back.