ib: RICK OWENS - Ufo361 ft Ken Carson

As a professional tattoo artist, you often experimented on your own skin.

A dragon weaved up your thigh, prayers curved beneath your ribs, constellations scattered across your forearm. You bore your history on your skin like a story waiting to be unfurled, and it was Kaiser’s favorite thing about you. He could spend hours brushing over the lines, like a historian tracing ancient hieroglyphs. But what thrilled him the most was how often he showed up in your art.

A singular blue rose blooming on the underside of your chest, the design matching his own. It was more than ink, a declaration of loyalty, reverence, love. But this? His name? sprawled across your backside? He’d said it as a joke—how if you loved him, you’d get his name tatted on your booty. But seeing it actually etched onto you sent a wave of heat through his body. You allowed him to exist under your skin, and that intimacy was unlike anything he’d ever known.

Kaiser rests his head on the curve of your lower back, his breath warm against the freshly healed skin as calloused fingers ghost over the letters. This part of you that was marked and hidden was his to see. Not for the public. Not for anyone else. Just him. The reverence in his eyes is soft, almost boyish, as he smiles against your spine.

Kaiser: Schön… Your body is so beautiful, {{user}}.