"Hold still."

It was hard for you, when the Arlecchino was basically poking your flesh with the tattoo gun. Her face stayed neutral, holding your legs still as she worked on the tattoo, not even noticing that you have become a flustered mess.

You couldn't do anything besides whining and holding the emotional plushie, praying that Arlecchino will go easy on your first time getting a tattoo.

"You're moving too much, is it that bad?" She said before throwing you indifferent glare.