Chapter Text
“Hyung, really?” Jungwon blinked at Sunoo, nearly spilling his juice box. “A thigh tattoo?”
“What?” Sunoo huffed, folding his arms. “You’re saying it like it’s a bad idea.”
Jungwon squinted, fighting back a grin. “Not bad—just… you? A tattoo? And on your inner thigh?”
“It’s not for everyone to see,” Sunoo said quickly, cheeks already starting to warm. “It’s personal. I just—I want something bold. Something that’s mine.”
Jungwon raised a brow. “Right. So not for everyone—just for whoever ends up seeing you naked.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” Sunoo went red immediately, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and burying his face in it. Not that anyone ever really sees him naked. Kim Sunoo wasn’t that kind of omega.
He’d grown up in a quiet, conservative household where heats were locked down with suppressants. College came and went and hadn’t changed him that much. He didn’t party as much. He didn’t do hook ups. He dated a beta and they fooled around a bit, but his heats passed with him curled in a nest of blankets, clutching a hot water bottle and his buzzing Mr. Knottoy.
This idea of getting a tattoo was the boldest thing he’d ever considered in his life.
Sunoo and Jungwon had been best friends since their second year of university, and now they shared a tiny off-campus apartment that smelled faintly of instant noodles and Jungwon’s grapefruit shampoo.
Jay wandered in and paused at the sight of Sunoo half-submerged in cushions. “What’s this?”
“Hyung wants a thigh tattoo,” Jungwon said, already handing over his phone. “Look at the guy he booked.”
Jay scrolled lazily, pausing on a black-and-gray spiral running up the side of someone’s leg. “This the artist?”
“Yeah,” came Sunoo’s muffled voice from behind the pillow.
Jay whistled low. “Work’s clean. Just don’t pass out or something. That’d be embarrassing.”
“Hyung!” Sunoo groaned, lobbing the pillow at Jay, who barely ducked in time as Jungwon laughed beside him.
Jay flopped down beside Jungwon and slung an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder
“He’s not wrong though,” Jungwon said with a teasing grin. “It’s your first tattoo, and it’s in a spicy spot. Better eat something first.”
This all started a week ago when Sunoo was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. A sleek account popped up on his feed: InkstinctiveRiki . The posts were clean and minimalist—sharp photos of clean looking tattoos with intricate designs that caught his eye immediately. Each piece had a quiet confidence, a raw, edgy vibe that just resonated with the omega.
And the artist? Riki. That’s all he could gather. No selfies, no personal details, just snippets.
From what Sunoo gathered the artist is originally from Japan, an alpha, and clearly brilliant at what he did. Sunoo lingered on a thigh piece that spiraled from the outer to inner thigh, its bold intimacy striking something deep in him. Before he could second-guess himself, he messaged the account: Hi, I love your work. Are you accepting new clients?
The reply came the next day. Short, professional, and straight to the point.
They agreed on a design, price, and appointment. And now, a week later, the cab dropped Sunoo off at the grittier side of town, a place lined with warehouses and industrial spaces. He double-checked the address on his phone, hesitating as he stood outside an older building with a narrow stairwell leading down into the basement.
The faint buzz of neon greeted him as he descended, the flickering sign above the door reading BelInklab. He pushed the door open, stepping inside.
The parlor was nothing like the grimy exterior. The checkered floors gleamed under warm lighting, neon signs cast colorful glows against framed art and tattoo samples, and the faint hum of a machine buzzed in the background.
Behind a sleek wooden desk sat a pale, sharp-featured guy with thick eyebrows, his multiple piercings glinting under the neon glow. He glanced up from his phone as Sunoo stepped inside, his sharp gaze sweeping over Sunoo’s bright, preppy outfit.
“Well, hey there, cutie,” he greeted with a teasing smirk. “You lost? What, need directions to the cupcake place? It's down the street seven blocks over”
Sunoo flushed instantly, his nerves spiking. “—uh, no. I have an appointment. Two o’clock?”
The guy raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as Sunoo pulled out his phone to show the messages.
“Oh, right. Minimalist thigh tattoo,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. “You’re braver than you look. Welcome, sweetheart. I’m Sunghoon.”
“Thanks,” Sunoo murmured, offering a shy smile.
Sunghoon tilted his head, his gaze softening slightly. “For real though, you sure about this? First tat, inner thigh? Ain’t exactly a walk in the park, y’know. Especially for an omega.”
Sunoo blinked, surprised. “Wait—how can you tell?”
“You said so in your message. Plus,”Sunghoon smirked, “I can smell it—barely, but it’s there. Good idea taking suppressants"
“I see…” Sunoo nodded quickly, clutching his phone. “Well, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
Before Sunghoon could respond, a shirtless guy strolled out from the back, tattoos glistening on his side. His relaxed confidence radiated alpha energy, and Sunoo’s instincts flared slightly as the guy’s sharp eyes landed on him.
“Yo, who’s this?” the guy asked, a smirk curling his lips. “Hoon, this one yours?”
“Shut it, Jake,” Sunghoon warns, throwing a roll of paper towels squarely at Jake’s chest. “He’s a client, not one of your IG fangirls.”
Jake caught the roll midair with a laugh. “Damn, my guy chill. I’m just saying hi.”
“Say it without sounding like a creep,” Sunghoon shot back, rolling his eyes as he sat back down.
Jake grinned, tossing the paper towels back onto the desk. “Whatever, Hoonie. You can’t blame me for noticing, though. This lil’ omega’s cute as hell—big eyes, that pout? He’s like a doll.”
Sunoo’s face burned hotter, his hands gripping his phone tightly, unsure whether to feel flattered or hide under the nearest bench.
Sunghoon sensed the omega’s discomfort and growled at Jake, pointing toward the door. “Go put a damn shirt on before Riki sees you and decides to knock your ass out for creeping on his client!”
Jake gave a mock gasp, clutching his chest. “Creeping? Me? Never! You’re just jealous I’ve got more game than you, hyung.”
“Out!” Sunghoon deadpanned, grabbing another roll of towels for good measure.
Jake finally relented, holding his hands up in surrender as he backed toward the door. “Alright, alright. But for real, sweetheart,” he said, flashing a wink at Sunoo, “if you need a hand to hold while you’re getting inked, hit me up.”
He ducked just in time as another roll of paper towels sailed at his head.
“Yah! Get the fuck out already!” Sunghoon barked. Jake’s laughter echoed as he disappeared through the door, the sound lingering even after it slammed shut.
“Sorry about that.” Sunghoon shook his head, turning back to Sunoo. “Look, I know this spot’s a little rough around the edges, but you’re good here. Yeah, we’re all alphas, but no one’s gonna mess with you while you’re in my shop. Promise.”
Sunoo nodded, feeling some of the tension ease from his shoulders. “Thanks,” he murmured with a small, grateful smile.
“Good,” Sunghoon said. “Now chill out, sweetheart. Riki’ll be with you in a minute.”
The room buzzed softly with the hum of a machine in the background as Sunoo perched on the sleek leather bench, scrolling nervously through his phone to pass the time. Sunghoon disappeared inside for a bit. A few minutes later, Sunghoon stepped back out from behind the partition, flashing him a reassuring smile.
“Alright, cutie, he’s ready for you,” Sunghoon said, motioning toward the back. “You’re in good hands, trust me. And hey—Riki doesn’t bite.” He paused for effect, his grin turning a touch mischievous. “Well… not unless you ask really nicely.”
Sunoo’s face turned crimson, and he let out a soft, flustered laugh, clutching his phone tighter. “Uh… good to know?”
“Kidding! Just relax,” Sunghoon added, giving him a wink. “You’ll be fine. Just follow me.”
The hallway leading to the tattoo rooms was quiet, the other cubbies dimly lit and empty, their doors partially ajar. It made the space feel larger, more private, and Sunoo’s soft footsteps echoed faintly as he followed Sunghoon.
“Most of the artists come in later at night so you can relax, not a lot of other people round.” Sunghoon reassures him.
The room at the end was sleek and professional, smelling faintly of rubbing alcohol. There’s the low beat of some soft R&B song faintly coming from a JBL speaker that oddly placed Sunoo at ease
There sat on a stool by the table is a very inked up young man.
His black hair framed his sharp cheekbones, the buzzed sides of his undercut catching the overhead light. Tattoos crawled up his neck and forearms, but it was the low-cut tank top that caught Sunoo’s attention first. The loose fabric revealed smooth, toned muscle, and when they reached up to grab something, the motion exposed a soft tuft of dark hair under his arm. The sight sent a jolt through Sunoo, his breath hitching before he could stop himself.
There was an unmistakable aura surrounding him. Very clearly an alpha. Sunoo couldn’t even get a whiff of scent but the way they carried themselves just screamed total alpha.
Well, a total alpha who looked young, like really young.
“You Sunoo?” The guy asked, his deep voice casual, not bothering to look up as he adjusted his tools.
“Uh, yeah,” Sunoo replied, stepping in cautiously and softly shutting the door behind him.
They gestured to the chair without missing a beat. “Sit.”
Sunoo hesitated, nerves twisting in his stomach as he glanced at Riki’s commanding presence. “Wait…” he blurted out. “You’re InkstinctiveRiki? The one from Instagram?”
Finally, they looked up, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah. Why?”
“I just—uh—aren’t you a little… young?” Sunoo stammered, heat rising to his cheeks.
The guy, apparently Riki, sighed, running a hand through his hair, the buzzed sides of his undercut catching the light. His earrings glinted as he leaned back slightly. “I fucking know I’m young, alright? I’m eighteen, this shit’s all legal, and I’m a fucking genius. So, I’ll ask you one time—do you want the tattoo or not?”
Flustered, Sunoo quickly nodded, his nerves bubbling over. “I do! I swear!”
“Good,” Riki muttered, turning back to his tools. His gloved hands moved with smooth precision as he picked up an iPad and swiveled it toward Sunoo. “This is the mockup.”
The design—a spiral, floral piece wrapping elegantly from the outer to inner thigh—took Sunoo’s breath away.
“W—wow… that’s–” Sunoo was at a loss for words.
Riki shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’ll wrap clean from outer to inner thigh. Smooth transitions, light shading for depth. Not too heavy. Four to five hours tops, maybe less if you don’t squirm.”
“F—four hours?!” Sunoo squeaked, his nerves kicking up again.
Riki glanced at him, his tone softening just slightly. “Look man…if you’re nervous, tell me now. You sure about this?”
Sunoo stared at the design, his chest tightening with anxiety, but the sheer beauty of the piece, and Riki’s steady confidence, pushed him forward. Sunoo took a beat, took a deep breath before finally speaking;
“I’m sure,” he said finally, his voice firmer this time.
Riki nodded. “Alright. Stencil first, then we start. Don’t squirm, or your lines will look like shit. Deal?”
“Deal,” Sunoo nodded.
“One more thing.” Riki glanced at him again, his tone casual but firm. “—I need to know if you’re on suppressants.”
Sunoo blinked, startled. “How’d you know I’m an omega?”
Riki’s lips twitched faintly, like he was holding back a smirk. “No one’s that pretty without being an omega.”
Sunoo flushed deeper, mouth opening—then closing again. Right. He’d said so in the message, hadn’t he?
He nods, quickly. Riki grabbed a surgical mask from the tray beside him. “Don’t worry. I’ll put this on, just to be safe.” And somehow, it placed Sunoo at ease.
Riki nodded toward the chair. “Alright, let’s get to it.”
The alpha picked up a small razor, holding it up briefly. “You’ll need to take your pants off so I can shave the area. Gotta make sure the stencil goes on clean.”
Sunoo froze. His hands hovered at the button of his jeans, heart thudding in his chest. For a second, he just stood there, uncertain. The words replayed in his head. Pants off. He could barely feel his fingers.
Then, without thinking it through, he moved too fast. Unbuttoned. Unzipped. He peeled his pants all the way down and stepped out of them completely.
“You don’t have to strip completely,” he said, focused on prepping the razor. “Just enough to—”
He glanced up and froze. Sunoo stood there in a pair of snug black thongs, the dark fabric hugging the soft curves of his hips and leaving his thighs completely bare.
Sunoo tugging his shirt lower, trying to hide how exposed he felt. “Is this... is this okay?”
Riki’s eyes dragged up, then snapped away just as quickly. He reached for his tools again, throat moving as he swallowed hard.
“Right,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Guess that saves me a step.”
Riki adjusted his mask, voice tight. “Yeah. It’s fine. Just sit still and we’ll get started.”
Sunoo sat down on the bed and laid back slowly, the vinyl surface cool against his skin. He shifted awkwardly, unsure where to place his hands. One hovered near the hem of his shirt, tugging it down again even though it barely covered anything. The other gripped the edge of the bed.
He tried not to think about how exposed he was. About the way the paper under him crinkled, or how close Riki’s chair was to the inside of his thigh. He tried not to think about the fact that he was wearing a thong. Why had he worn a thong? His head buzzed with a dozen tiny regrets.
Riki didn’t say anything. Just moved in with quiet precision, carefully smoothing the stencil against Sunoo’s skin. His gloved hand was firm but steady, pressing the transfer paper along the curve of his thigh.
Sunoo flinched slightly at the first touch, then held still. He stared at the ceiling, breath held, muscles tense.
“Don’t tense,” Riki murmured. “I need a clean lay.”
Sunoo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
With the stencil in place and transferred, Riki leaned back, inspecting his work before pulling the tattoo gun closer.
“We’ll start with the outline. First few minutes sting the most, but you’ll settle into it. Let me know if it gets too much.”
Sunoo nodded, gripping the armrests tightly as the buzzing machine came to life. The sound was sharper than he expected. It was louder, more real. His stomach fluttered, and for a second, he considered telling Riki to wait. Just one more minute.
But before he could say anything, the needle touched skin.
He flinched, his thigh jerking slightly, a sharp sting radiating outward. His breath caught, but he forced himself to stay still, exhaling slowly through his nose.
Riki glanced up. “You good?”
“Y-yeah,” Sunoo stammered, voice tight but holding. “I’m okay.”
Riki nodded and resumed his work with smooth, practiced motions. As the minutes passed, the sharp sting dulled into something tolerable, and the tension in Sunoo’s body began to ease.
After a while, Riki broke the silence. “So, why this? Why a tattoo?”
Sunoo hesitated, blinking at the sudden question. “I guess I just wanted to do something for myself. Something... bold?”
“Bold, huh?” Riki glanced up briefly, one brow raised. “Is this your I-can-be-edgy-too moment?”
Sunoo let out a quiet laugh, a little self-conscious. “It’s not exactly wild or anything, but it’s different for me. I’ve always played it safe, so this feels like... a step out of my comfort zone.”
Riki hummed under his breath, focusing on the lines forming under his hand. “Could’ve picked something smaller. New haircut or a piercing or something. Not a tattoo on your thigh.”
“I thought about it,” Sunoo said, softer now. “But if I was going to do something, I wanted it to mean something. Something just for me. I don’t need everyone else to see it, but... I’ll know it’s there.”
Riki paused for half a second, his hand hovering over the tattoo gun, then gave a small nod. “Makes sense. Tattoos are like that. Personal.”
Something about the way he said it settled Sunoo a little more. He let out a breath, shoulders finally easing into the table. The air between them felt lighter.
Riki pulled back to inspect the lines. “Alright. That’s good. Now I need to get to the other side. It’ll be easier if you shift onto your side.”
Sunoo blinked. “My side?”
“Yeah.” Riki nodded. “You can’t sit like that if I’m going to get a clean angle. Lay down, turn on your side, and bend your leg a little. Trust me, it’ll make it easier for both of us.”
“Oh, okay,” Sunoo murmured. His cheeks were already warm as he shifted nervously, following the alpha’s instructions. He stretched out slowly, trying to settle into the position while tugging his shirt down in a hopeless attempt to cover more of himself.
“Relax,” Riki said as he adjusted the light and moved in. “You’re fine. Just stay still, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Riki leaned in, one gloved hand pressing lightly against Sunoo’s thigh to steady him. The hum of the tattoo gun buzzed to life again—sharper now, rhythmic, vibrating straight through the thin skin of his upper thigh.
Sunoo stiffened, trying not to move, when something unfamiliar slid into the edge of his senses.
The air smelled clean at first, sterile, like ink and alcohol. But there was something underneath that.
His nose twitched. Huh. What is that?
He took another breath, trying to keep still.
It was stronger now. Not harsh, just present. Sharp in a way he couldn’t place at first, edged with something green and woodsy. Like cedar and heat. Something about it made his mouth go dry.
Wait… He inhaled again, slower this time. His body reacted before his mind did.
That’s when he realized it. It was Riki.
His scent.
Sunoo’s heart skipped, breath hitching faintly. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was there—cutting through the air like a quiet undertow. That was the scent of an alpha.
His brain scrambled for logic.
He’d taken his suppressant that morning. He always did when he had to be around alphas—just in case. He followed the bottle exactly: the right dosage, four hours before expected exposure to pheromones, with food and water like the instructions said. Just like he always did.
He wasn’t supposed to react like this.
He’d never reacted like this before. But the scent clung to him now. Soft, confident, and grounding. It didn’t overpower him, but instead it pulled at him. Slow and steady. And it made Sunoo feel like he was unraveling from the inside out.
Then the needle touched down again. This time, the pain barely registered. Each vibration sent a ripple of warmth through his thigh, too close to where his nerves were already lit up. Sunoo’s fingers curled tighter around the edge of the bed. His breath came faster, chest rising and falling with shallow pulls.
What’s wrong with me?
The warmth pooled lower. He shifted slightly, trying to adjust, but it only made the sensation worse. His thoughts blurred. Heat pressed up from under his skin, and his thighs twitched involuntarily.
Oh god. I’m getting turned on?!
The panic was immediate. His breath hitched sharply as the vibrations from the needle dragged closer to the crease of his thigh. Every pass felt worse than the last—hot, too close, too deliberate. His body clenched instinctively, as if trying to force the reaction back inside, trying to hold the heat down where it couldn’t be seen or felt.
No. No no no, not here. Not now. He squeezed his legs together slightly. Not enough to disrupt the work, but enough to try and stop the growing pulse between them. He clenched, thighs trembling, willing his body to behave. But the hum of the machine kept coming, steady and low, dragging sensation over nerves that had never been this fired up.
He tried to breathe through it. Focus on the ceiling. On the sting. But his skin felt too hot and too bare, and the moment the needle skimmed a particularly sensitive patch of flesh lead to the omega’s body betraying him
A slow, warm seep spread between his legs, not a gush but unmistakable. The kind of involuntary slick that no amount of suppressants could fully hold back when an omega’s body was pushed too far. The black fabric of his underwear hid it, for now. But the dampness clung to him, thick and sticky, a traitorous gloss between his thighs. He could feel it.
And soon, the alpha would too.
Sunoo’s breath stuttered, and his whole body went stiff.
“Uh… Sunoo…” Riki’s voice cut through the haze, low and uncertain. The buzz of the tattoo gun stopped. The needle lifted.
Sunoo froze. His heart plummeted. He didn’t dare look up. His body was rigid with shame, every muscle pulled tight as he waited for the inevitable moment of humiliation.
“Are you we—?” Riki caught himself. “-—are you okay?”
Sunoo’s chest rose with a sharp inhale. He knows.
“Hey look, we can stop if you need a break…” Riki’s tone faltered again, caught somewhere between professional concern and something else he couldn’t name. “We just stop for now and—”
“—no!” Sunoo said too quickly, too loud. He swallowed hard. “I–I mean no. I’m good. W–we can continue.”
Riki didn’t move right away. Sunoo risked a glancejust enough to see the hesitation in the alpha’s hand, still hovering above his skin holding the tattoo gun.
Then Riki’s eyes met his—and dropped lower. Right where the faint damp sheen was starting to show. The black fabric did nothing to hide the wet patch now. The way it clung. Riki cleared his throat, the sound too loud in the room that had gone suddenly silent.
“Alright,” he said finally, voice rough around the edges, and the machine buzzed back to life.
Riki leaned in again, his hand firmer this time on Sunoo’s thigh. Sunoo sucked in a shaky breath as the needle touched down once more. He barely registered the sting.
Each vibration felt like it traveled straight to his core. The sting of the pain is melting into something warmer, and wet that seeped into his very being. His fingers curled into the edge of the bed, trying to anchor himself.
Then Riki’s hand slid slightly higher. Just a shift, but it felt too intentional. Too close where all that heat is burning the hottest. Sunoo bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t even sure if it was deliberate or not, but the pressure made him flinch. His hips twitched without permission. Another thin ripple of slick followed, warmth spreading into already damp fabric.
He squeezed his legs again. But it didn’t help. The needle rode higher, tracing too close to the crease of his inner thigh. The sting should’ve made him flinch—but instead, it sent a jolt of heat straight through him. His breath caught. It didn’t just hurt anymore. It pulsed .
The steady hum, the sharp touch, Riki’s scent curling around him, the poor omega was suffering, it was too much for him to hold back. A soft, broken mewl slipped out before he could stop it.
And right away, the buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped. Riki pulled back, his gloved hand still resting on Sunoo’s thigh. The pause stretched too long.
Sunoo stared at the ceiling, too afraid to move, barely breathing. He didn’t need to look to know what Riki was seeing the dark patch on the omega’s thong, slick clinging to the fabric, exposed and obvious.
He could feel the air hit it. Cold against wet heat.
For a while he heard nothing, the buzz of the tattoo gun was gone. The silence was worse than anything.
Then finally,Riki spoke. His voice was low, even.
“You’re wet.”