Chuuya Nakahara had seen all kinds walk through the doors of his studio—first-timers, adrenaline junkies, heartbroken exes wanting closure inked on their skin. But none quite like the lanky bastard currently lounging on his chair like he owned the place.

“I want everything,” the guy said, gesturing vaguely at his entire body. “Tattoos. Piercings. You name it.”

Chuuya raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his inked chest. “You even know what ‘everything’ means?”

The guy—Dazai, he’d introduced himself with a grin too wide to be innocent—nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve thought about it. A full body canvas. Top to bottom. And I want you to be the one to do it.”

It wasn’t flattery. Dazai said it like it was already decided.

Chuuya narrowed his eyes, studying the man’s untouched skin. Not a single piercing, not even a scratch of ink. Just bare, flawless skin practically begging for a needle. “You’ve never done anything before? No tats, no studs, no hidden regrets?”

“Clean slate,” Dazai said cheerfully. “Makes it more fun, doesn’t it?”

Chuuya wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or shove him out the door. People didn’t just wake up and decide to get a whole damn bodysuit. That kind of commitment took months—years—of planning. But Dazai didn’t seem like the type to plan anything past breakfast.

“I don’t even know what you want tattooed,” Chuuya muttered, already regretting asking for details.

“Neither do I. That’s what makes it exciting.”

Chuuya sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. This was either going to be a disaster… or the most interesting job of his career.