“I am holding still, baby…”
choso kamo who secretly loves when his girlfriend does his alt makeup for him is reluctantly getting his guyliner done so you two can go out and get those matching tattoos he’s been whining about.
[°❀.࿔] » content warning: clingy!choso :: semi-nsfw :: pet names :: mentions of piercings :: fem!reader :: a little angst :: straddling :: slight smut :: mentions of tattoos :: alt!choso :: fluff
𑣲 » alt!choso x fem!reader oneshot || wc: 2.1k
The TV played idly in the background. It was some cheap comedy you turned on to pass the time, a soft laugh track played at a joke that probably wasn’t funny. Now, your thighs hugged your boyfriend, Choso, as you straddled his lap. He rubbed small slow circles on your waist.
“Hold still, Choso,” you scolded, struggling to swipe on a strip of ink. You two had been at this for five minutes now. That was five minutes too long for you. Eyeliner shouldn’t have been taking this long!
“I am holding still, baby…”
You grumbled, taking your hands away from his face and tilting your head. Your tone came out a bit harsher than usual. You were just a bit restless, Choso knew that. “If you were holding still, I wouldn’t be complaining right now, would I?”
Choso let his head rest on the back of the couch, still holding eye contact with you. He smiled softly, the soft light catching on the smooth texture of his bridge piercing.
You just rolled your eyes and leaned back in, making careful strokes of wet ink along his lash line. The oversized collar of his shirt slipped off your shoulder. Choso's cheeks heated up from your proximity and his eyes darted towards your lips.
Before you could scold him, he leaned up just enough to press his lips against yours, letting out a soft hum of pure, unadulterated delight.
You slowly melted into his kiss until you realized what he was doing. He was kissing you. That’s when you abruptly pulled back.
“Baby—“ he whimpered, his brows furrowed together as he watched you pull away.
“Choso, you’re distracting me, let me finish your eyeliner so we can go already!” you fussed, placing the small tube down on the table.
“I’m sorry, babe,” he murmured, his gaze still half lidded and heated. You could tell what was going through his head as he stared at you. He gave you a soft smile that showed you he wasn’t really sorry about anything. That’s what irked you.
“Choso, if you don’t sit still, I will stab you in the eye with this,” you threatened, repeatedly poking him in the middle of his forehead with the stick.
“Ouch, okay! Cut that out!” he hissed, pushing the stick away from him before rubbing the area you had just assaulted.
You ignored his complaint and continued applying his eyeliner. A few minutes later he continued to rub your waist until his hands slid just a fraction lower.
You raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything. Both of you sat on that couch for an extra ten minutes because of Choso's whining. Once you felt like it was complete, you frowned softly and nodded.
“Perfect,” you whispered, setting the tube back on the table and picking up the small pink mirror you brought. You let your hand travel to his cheek, absently stroking the smooth scar across his nose with your thumb.
The sharp black wet ink of the eyeliner contrasted with the pale skin around his eyes. He looked more intimidating than usual.
“Let me see,” he replied, his voice dropping to a low register.
“Babe,” he breathed, looking at the small mirror in your hand then back at you. “You’re so talented, my pretty girl.” He loved the makeup, he really did. But his mind was focused on the weight of your thighs over his, the scent of that shampoo you used, and a scent that was uniquely you.
You let out a breathless laugh at his exaggerated reaction, but Choso wasn’t laughing at all.
He looked deeply into your eyes, his short brown hair obscuring his eyes just a bit as he tilted his head. His gaze, intense and darkened by the eyeliner, softened imperceptibly. You noticed everything about him, and your breath hitched.
The fabric of his faded band tee that you wore was thin under his palms, his grip tightened. His hands were clammy, and hot against your hips now, digging into your soft, supple flesh to anchor himself.
Your cheeks flushed a pretty pink as the two of you maintained eye contact. “I-I’m glad you like it, Cho…”
He shifted under your weight just enough to notice the dull ache beneath his denim. He slowed his breathing in an attempt to control himself. Choso froze, his pulse thumping like a trapped bird in his chest.
“B-Baby, we should get ready to go, the appointment’s at—“
“But, I want to take pictures of you!” you whined, shifting your weight on his lap as you pouted. Your shifting weight caused repeated drags of friction across his length, and Choso let out a low, broken hitch of air whenever you moved. A hot flush that had little to do with embarrassment crept up his cheeks.
“P-Please…” he strained out, his voice thick with desire.
You noticed how quickly his face turned red and decided against the photos; you didn’t want him to be uncomfortable after all.
“Fine, but we’re going to that diner after our tattoos, since you want to be difficult,” you declared, pouting at him. You wondered why Choso was in such a rush to leave, the pictures wouldn’t have taken that long.
Choso nodded without hesitation, watching as you leaned back, your weight finally lifting off his thighs. You stretched once your feet hit the floor, and yawned. He let out a sigh of relief as you got up, and subtly adjusted his jeans.
You grabbed the tube and closed it, carelessly tossing it back onto the table before plopping down on the couch next to him.
“Don’t you think a flower tattoo is such a…cliché idea?” you asked, twirling a strand of your hair as you stared blankly at the end credits rolling on the screen.
Choso shrugged and leaned against your shoulder, interlacing your free hand with his. “I think it’s an amazing idea, especially since you picked it,” he replied, squeezing your hand softly; he was noticeably less tense now that you were next to him.
“Ugh, you’re always just saying things,” you muttered, folding your arms over your chest.
Choso sat up slowly and rubbed his cheek, looking at you. “I really do think it’s an amazing idea… the begonia flower matches you perfectly, babe.”
You considered his words for a second and frowned, looking down at his hand that was adorned with rings squeezing yours.
“It’s pretty… like you, and I just think the idea of wearing something you chose… permanently is such an intimate thing…” he added bashfully, his cheeks dusted with a pale pink.
Your breath hitched at his words and you immediately snatched your hand away from his, hiding your burning face behind your palms.
“You—you shouldn’t say stuff like that so calmly!” you squealed, shaking your head. A small private smile played on his lips as he watched your dramatic response to his words.
He knew he sounded like such a sappy boyfriend, but he meant every single word from the bottom of his heart.
“Come on now, you’re going to melt into the couch and then we won’t be able to go…” he teased, nudging your shoulder playfully.
Choso began to get up, holding his hand out so you’d take it. You grabbed his hand and got off the couch, letting out a quiet sigh.
“Cho, could we take the scenic route?”
“Scenic route?” he repeated, grabbing his keys from the desk and spinning them around his finger. “Of course. Anything for you, baby.”
The engine whirred softly as “Hold On Till May” played on the radio. Choso tapped his index finger on the steering wheel, his rings clinking against the leather material.
He took a right when he should’ve taken a left, and kept straight when he knew he was supposed to turn. When you said that you wanted to go the scenic route to the parlor, he was more than happy to take you up on that.
It was sunny, but you knew that the sun would set in just a few hours. The bass from Choso's car speakers made the leather seats vibrate beneath both of you.
You guys passed several trees that cast long shadows on the road, tall flowers dancing in the windy breeze, and dragonflies buzzing around.
Choso hummed the chorus as he turned the car, his gaze fixed on the road. He looked noticeably calmer now. Your eyes were locked on his side profile.
His jawline was perfect and so was his nose. Everything about your boyfriend was something you loved. He felt you staring at him and waited until he stopped at a red light to look over at you.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asked, letting his right hand drop from the steering wheel to rest on your thigh. He gave a soft squeeze and smirked. “Are you nervous?”
You shook your head slowly and he raised an eyebrow at your response. Choso could read you like a book even though it had only been two years.
“It’ll be fine. Your bicep is one of the least painful spots,” he explained, squeezing your thigh again to reassure you.
“Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, right?”
He smiled softly and shook his head, humming as he started to drive again. You blushed and he began to lift his hand from your leg. Without hesitation, you grabbed his wrist and pulled it back, pressing his hand against your thigh even more.
Choso blushed profusely but didn’t protest against your behavior at all. His hand was right where he wanted it to be.
He turned slowly, the signal clicking as he pulled into a parking spot outside of the tattoo parlor. The music stopped and the car was suddenly quiet after he killed the engine.
Choso undid his seatbelt and turned his body towards you, looking into your eyes. “We’re here, baby,” he said, before leaning in to kiss you.
You kissed him back but he felt like something was off… Choso pulled back, cupping your cheek with his calloused hand.
“Baby, you’re shaking,” he observed, stroking your cheek with a featherlight touch. Your gaze darted away from him immediately. This was your idea; the matching tattoos, the long and scenic car route, and even the day you guys were meant to get the tattoos.
Without a second thought, Choso unbuckled your seatbelt as well, pulling you just a fraction closer to him. The console between you suddenly seemed invisible.
You finally let out a shaky breath and kept your eyes down. “I’m sorry, Cho…”
“No… if you’re not ready to go in there, we can sit here for a while.”
He gently turned your head so you’d face him again. When he saw your eyes shimmering, his heart shattered into millions of pieces.
He had a sharp intake of breath and immediately went into protective mode. He always got so sad when you were sad. Choso hated seeing you upset. “Babe—“
“I just—I just don’t want to waste your time, Choso… you already drove out here…” you choked out, the tears threatening to spill over.
He immediately shook his head and wiped your eyes with the pad of his thumb. “Baby, no. You could never waste my time…” his voice dropped immediately into a low soothing murmur despite his own voice wavering a little.
“My goodness,” he whimpered as he squeezed his eyes shut. Choso's hand slipped from your cheek and onto your shoulder as he wiped his eyes with his free hand.
His eyeliner smudged against his face and the back of his hand as he rubbed it vigorously. Choso had completely forgotten that he was even wearing eyeliner.
He cleared his throat and sniffed, blinking a few times so he could properly recollect himself. “Let’s go to that diner and get some ice cream then come back afterwards…”
You nodded at his suggestion and looked up at his face again, his eyeliner was so messy now. He noticed you looking at him and caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror.
He rarely called you by your name. Whenever he did, it meant he felt like he had truly messed up. It was one of his adorable quirks.
You let out a soft giggle at his clumsiness and rubbed his cheek, making eye contact with him through the mirror, which made his hands freeze mid-air.
“I… I actually like it more now that it’s messier…” you admitted, watching as his cheeks went from pale to comically red in seconds.
authors note: we love alt choso. lmk if you enjoyed this story in the comments! (˶˃𐃷˂˶)
made by: sweetohmy on tumblr all rights reserved. do not steal, get inspired by, ai train, or repost my writing.
