I WANT A HEART TATTOO!
I'LL NEVER GET IT REMOVED!
synopsis// suguru gives you your first tattoo.
➚ pairing// tattoo artist!suguru geto x gn!reader
➚ word count// 2k
contents// friends to lovers, tattooed and pierced geto, reader is a chicken, mentions of drinking, maybe like the ittiest bittiest type of suggestive toward the end...? slightly teasing/cocky geto?
notes// this is kinda cringe but i am cringe and free. also this was inspired by heart tattoo by joyce manor (dont play with me rn.) hoping this will help hold yall off till i can finish the smau...
Geto meticulously cleans up his tattoo station, occasionally stopping to take a swig of the beer you so kindly brought him.
“You’re quiet.”
You hum as you take a sip of your own beer.
He stops and turns around to face you, his eyebrow raised. “Why?”
“I like watching you clean.”
Geto laughs. Not just a small one either, but the kind that makes his nose crinkle and his cheeks bunch to the point his eyes are forced closed. You ignore the butterflies in your stomach, blaming it on the alcohol (even if this is only your first beer and definitely not enough to have any sort of effect on you, but you digress).
“What’s so interesting about watching me clean anyway?”
You huff, ignoring the increasing heat on your face. “I don’t know... Just shut up and finish cleaning, Suguru. I wanna leave.”
He smiles and turns back around, continuing to clean. “I told you you could go home.”
“And leave you to fend for yourself?”
“I’m a grown man.”
“Whatever… Besides, I can’t drink all these beers by myself.”
Geto doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders shake slightly with a small, silent laugh, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. You love his little quirks. You always have.
maybe a little too much.
Meanwhile, he picks up his tattoo machine and stares at it. There’s nothing particularly interesting about it; it’s just plain black, freshly wrapped in some black medical tape.
“Hey Y/N?”
“Something wrong?”
He shakes his head and turns to face you again, tattoo machine still in hand. “You still don’t have any tattoos, huh?”
“Um, no,” you respond sheepishly. “I’m not like scared or anything-“
“I wasn’t gonna say that.”
“Oh. then what were you gonna say?”
“Can I give you a tattoo?”
You blink at him. It’s not like you don’t trust him. You trust Geto with your life. You trust him more than anyone or anything in the world. Shit, you might trust him even more than you trust yourself. It’s just…
Geto impatiently groans at your lack of answer. “Oh, cmon, you literally promised me when we were younger that you would let me tattoo you!”
“That was when we were like twelve!” you scoff, in disbelief he’d throw something as old as that in your face… Maybe he’s been hanging around Gojo too much.
“Give me one good reason why you won’t let me tattoo you.”
You frown as you look away, and right away you can hear his footsteps as he places himself in your line of vision again. raising his eyebrows as if to ask, “well?”
You mumble something under your breath that he doesn’t quite catch. “Y/N, you know I can’t hear you when you do that.”
“I actually am scared!” you finally say loud enough for him to hear, and it comes out more like a single word than a full sentence.
Geto can't help but giggle, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth, but not even that helps.
“Suguru, this isn't funny; I'm being vulnerable here!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says through stifled laughter before finally calming down enough to clear his throat. “You're right, it isn’t funny,“ he pauses for a moment. ”Wanna know something?”
“What?”
“Getting tattooed scares me too.”
“Liar,” you scoff. “You're covered in them.”
Geto shrugs. “Doesn’t mean it’s not unnerving each time.”
“I just don’t want it to hurt,” you explain with a slight pout.
“It’s a needle going in and out of your skin, Y/N.”
“Exactly!”
“Fine,” Suguru says with a sigh, and you think that's it; he's done, but not even a few seconds later does he speak up again: “What if I said I'll be gentle?”
“Haha.” Your brain immediately short circuits, and the butterflies in your stomach are something you can't blame on the alcohol this time. “Huh.”
Geto laughs softly. “With your tattoo?”
You nod blankly, your brain still not working properly and not yet actually computing what he’s still asking you.
“Yes?” he confirms excitedly.
“Yeah…” Finally, it hits you. “Wait, no! I mean, no. and not to mention you’ve been drinking?”
“Like two sips, Y/N,” he says with a slight pout and roll of his eyes. “You know better than anyone; it takes a lot more than that to get me drunk.”
“Okay, well, what about me? Isn't it bad to get tattoed when you’ve been drinking?”
“Oh my god, just say yes or no. You know I won’t be mad if you decide not to.”
You stare deep into Geto’s eyes, and he’s not lying; he won't be mad. disappointed, sure, but not mad. never mad, never when it comes to you. And right then and there, your conviction crumbles into a million tiny pieces, just dust in the wind.
“…fine”
“fine?”
“You can tattoo me. But!" you exclaim, pointing a finger at him as if lecturing him, “it has to be small! and somewhere where it doesn’t hurt.”
“Okay, I can't guarantee that last part, and you know that,” he says blankly.
You sigh in defeat. “Yeah, I know.”
Geto smiles at you softly and coos, “But I will try,” as he gently caresses your cheek before breaking away and turning around to pull back out the stuff he needs.
You stand there wide-eyed, and your jaw dropped. Geto is affectionate, sure, but he’s never been that affectionate. He couldn’t feel the same way, could he? You shake your head, denying that thought, even despite how hot you feel.
He just did that to comfort you.
That’s all.
He was just trying to be reassuring.
That's it.
At least that's what your brain is trying to say, but your heart is saying another with the way it violently beats against your rib cage.
The minute he turns around, you compose yourself, shutting your mouth and hoping to god he doesn’t notice your chest heaving almost uncontrollably.
Geto pats his tattoo chair. “Sit.”
You hesitate, standing there like a deer in headlights.
Geto clicks his tongue dramatically before grabbing your hand and leading you to his chair, mumbling a reassuring, “Trust me.”
You frown, placidly letting him drag you around like a rag doll. “I do trust you.”
“Then sit.”
And when he says it like that, how can you say no? When he’s staring at you so intently that it’s almost as if he can see right through you, how do you say no? You cant. So you don't. The only thing you can do is—petulantly—plop down into his tattoo chair.
“Sit right and lay your arm on the armrest.”
“No, do it like this.” By ‘this’ you mean with you hunched over and your arm resting on your leg rather than the armrest like Geto is telling you to.
He sighs deeply. "Y/N, your arm resting on your leg is not stable enough. like at all.”
“Do it like this or not at all.”
“Fine.” He raises an eyebrow at you in mild disapproval and says, "But if it comes out bad, it’s not my fault.”
You roll your eyes, unamused. Geto would never let anything he puts on your body come out even remotely bad. “Whatever.”
“Why like this anyway?”
“Because it’s comfortable..?”
Not really.
Like at all.
Actually, this is extremely uncomfortable, and you're sure your back will hate you later, but this gives you the best view of Geto, and that's all you care about.
“Okay, fine,” he says, not bothering to put up much more of a fight before getting in position. “Ready?”
“Yeah…” Not even a second later, you blurt out, “Wait!”
Geto’s head shoots up, his concerned eyes scanning your face intently. “What? What is it?”
You don't say a word; instead, you grab onto his shoulder with your free hand, prepared to claw into it if and when need be.
“Is that why you’re sitting like this?” He asks, a smug smile creeping onto his face as it finally hits him. “You just wanted to hold onto me?”
You nod sheepishly.
Geto smiles. “Are you ready now, then?”
You nod again.
but that's not good enough for him. He wants a real reply. “For real this time?”
“For real this time.”
Geto doesn't miss a beat, and you close your eyes as your face scrunches up in anticipation, your nails already sinking into his shoulder. But the minute the tattoo machine actually meets your skin, you peek one eye open because all you really feel is some vibration and the tiniest of scratches. It doesn’t hurt that bad at all, actually; it’s more than tolerable, and with that, your hand relaxes against his shoulder, still resting on it but no longer gripping him like he’s the only thing tying you to this earth.
It’s not long after that the feeling fades into the background of your mind, like a blur. Being tattooed isn’t even a thought in your brain at all right now. Geto could be tattooing a dick on your arm right now, and you wouldn’t even know because the only thing you can focus on is him.
The only thing you can ever focus on is him, if you’re being honest.
But right now, something is different. Seeing him in his element makes your knees go weak, and you’re grateful for the fact that you’re sitting. and suddenly you don’t know why you’ve never let him tattoo you sooner. You’d let him tattoo you a thousand more times if it meant you got to see him like this. He somehow makes the way he focuses look like art—from the way his brows are knitted together in concentration to the way he absentmindedly bites and fiddles with his lip piercings—it’s all art; he makes it look too beautiful. like he’s more modeling and pretending to focus than actually doing it. You involuntarily let out a deep, longing sigh, your eyes fluttering close in the process.
Geto’s gaze flits up to your face. “You're not about to pass out on me, right?”
You open your eyes and meet his gaze with a small, content smile on your face. “No, I'm fine, Suguru.”
“I mean, if you were, that would be fine too, because I'm done,” he replies, turning off his tattoo machine and moving away from you.
“Already?!” you ask, slightly shocked. It didn't feel like it had been that long.
“Yeah,” he says plainly as he stands up and starts quickly cleaning up his workstation once more. "Don't know what you were so scared of, dork.”
You open your mouth, ready to say something sarcastic or explain yourself, but before the words can even leave your mouth, before you can even think of them, Geto is turning back around to face you and cupping your chin in between his index finger and thumb.
Geto leans down at the same time he tilts your head up and places a chaste kiss on the corner of your (still open) mouth, cooing, “You took it so well.”
All you can do is laugh nervously. “What?” You're still giggling; you don't think you could do much else at this point. “What was that- Why did you just-“
Geto starts laughing along with you, except it’s not a defense mechanism for him; he’s just finding this all too amusing. “You didn't think I gave you a heart for no reason, did you?”
You quickly look down at your arm, the action ripping your chin out of Geto’s hold. “You gave me a heart,” you say absentmindedly, and it sounds more like a question than an actual statement.
“Are you just now noticing?” he asks, returning his hand to your chin and gently guiding you to look up at him again. “I thought you were watching the whole time.”
You swallow sharply, becoming acutely aware of how close his face is to yours again. “I was watching something the whole time, but it was not the actual tattoo.”
“Oh? and what was so much more interesting?”
“Mind your business-“
Geto barely even lets you finish your snarky remark before leaning in and kissing you again. except this time for real. except this time you kiss back.
and suddenly tattoos don’t seem so bad anymore, so long as they all end like this.
©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD
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