#toji fugiguro x reader

[yinses]

kinds of tattoo artists 

|jjk edition|

rqst: after sukuna i cant staph thinking about what the others would be like as tattoo artist

a/n: these are probably my favorite things to write. i love the format. 

G O J O  S A T O R U — he has a story for every tattoo ever. one’s he owns, seen and inked himself. they could all be true, but you find the vibrating hum of the needle against your skin easier to ignore when you focus on the vivid imagery of his tales instead. he’s a very good storyteller, never skimping on the details and adding comical commentary around every corner. you connect the threads of each narrative to the accompanying bold lines stretching up the length of his arms. swirls and various shades making for very convincing illustrations to the novel he’d created. before you know it, your hour is up, cutting his retelling just short of the art peeking under his shirt. you could get lost in those baby blues as they twinkle with mischief. they leave you so wrapped up in strings of intrigue that you actually consider a second tattoo despite your hesitations of the first. he looks proud of his work, and should be, deserving off all five stars you planned to give on his review.  “don’t like it too much. tattoos can be pretty addicting, after all.” he remarks as he rubs cream into your swollen flesh.  yeah, you think, addicting was the right word. 

G E T O  S U G U R U — the look he gives you when you tell him it’s your first is almost enough to make you reconsider. it’s not rude but there is a hint of condescension as he coaxed you to go into more details about location and coloring. ultimately, you end up in his chair anyways, lip bitten as he goes about preparing supplies. the point of no return comes all too quickly as he peels the sterile needle from the one use pack. “i would offer to let you hold my hand but-” you look up from the skin pinched between two of his fingers to the same smug grin that had greeted you at the door. something on his face must have changed, because slowly so did his as he breathes out a sigh. he surprise you by guiding one of your hands just above his knee, fingers squeezing around yours once before pulling away. “if it gets to be too much squeeze hard but don’t jump. id rather give you a breather than have you pass out on me.”

I T A D O R I   Y U U J I — if anyone was going to do your tattoo, you’re glad it’s your boyfriend. he’s more patient than most artist would be. attentive to every squirm and flinch and mindful how a single twitch could leave you with a permanent mishap. you’re going nearly thirty minutes over what was expected, but he’d scheduled out an ample block of time prior, mindful of your skepticism. “hey, hey, we’re almost done,” he mutters, hand stopping when he notices the water behind your eyes. “want to stop, baby?” you do. want the endless burn to finally go away, but you want to finish it equally as bad so you steel your nerves and shake your head. something akin to pride curls at the corners of his lips as he starts back up the motor but not before pressing a quick kiss to yours. “it’s going to look beautiful on you. just you wait. it’ll be worth it.” and you believed him. 

F U S H I G U R O  M E G U M I —he’s not one for conversation, choosing to rather concentrate on his work than idle chatter. but he doesn’t seem to mind if you do. and so you find yourself talking about any and everything as the clock ticks on. the entire process is almost cathartic. pent up tension escaping you with every word and each pin point of the needle etching away at your skin. this was suppose to be your bold change. something different to stamp a revision on your life while mounting a memorial of your past. or at least that was the speech used to butter yourself up to the idea. at the end of it all, you’re staring at something better than you’d imagined, and dont delay telling him as much. your words ignite a blush that crawls up his nape, barely hidden by the sheepish hand rubbing over the skin. “i-uh... don’t mind doing your next one. if you want one to remember your friend by.” he’s already turning away from your blink of shock, throwing care instructions over his shoulder as he prepares the bandage. 

F U S H I G U R O  T O J I  — it comes as a surprise, because he’s the owner. something pointed out to you by a friend when you’d accompanied them to the shop in the past. he only took on special guests, you’d been told. spending half a day bent over a customer completing yet another work of art that keep the business in high praises. he didn’t bother with the small things. so why he the one offering to pierce the little stud above your naval? eventually you would get a tattoo but you weren’t quite ready to take the plunge. but you’d been eying the cute studded crystal since your last visit. it looks as good as you thought it would, twinkling bright under the hooded lamp. he seems to think so too a thumbs over the tender flesh just above the piercing. “you were so good for me. not even a flinch.” you found yourself caught staring at the sharp cut stretching across both lips as they work into a smile. “you’ll have to come back and let me mark you up for real.”

C H O S O —he thinks you’re cute as you stumble through the explanation of your design. accommodating but insistent when you began to doubt yourself. ultimately, your idea hadn’t changed but you felt it lacking as you stared at the temporary imprint reflected in the mirror. you were his last appointment of the day, and surely eating up his time, but he refused to let you just go through with it. there was a light scold in his voice as he rubbed alcohol against your skin to wipe away the markings. “if you’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right.” you should have been halfway through your tattoo now as the neighboring stations close down for the day. but he waves away your timid glances as he nudges a new sketch book your way. in a way showing you his work had been somewhat counterintuitive, rather than help you settle on a design, you’d been overwhelmed and visibly intrigued by the numerous portraits and motifs. you spent more time compliment the his steady hand for being able to produce such detailed works than you’d progressed to coming any closer to honing in on your own tattoo. eventually he’s the one to call it a night, chasing away your frown with an offer. “tomorrow’s my day off. why don’t you meet me at the cafe around the corner and we can brainstorm this with the help of caffeine.”