Ink isn’t the only thing her body wants.
Synopsis: You found choso on Instagram and figured his work looked good enough. One session and a few texts later, he’s at your doorstep for a “house call”. You and him both know he didn’t come to tattoo your arm.
˖᯽ ݁˖· ─ 18+ content. MDNI. This is a continuation of my TikTok series. “Texts with tattoo artist choso kamo.”!!
tw: pathetic and dominant choso, creampie (oh la la la) begging, fem receiving oral, finger fucking, MxF penetration(and more idk what else to say lololol)
You spend the hour before his arrival pampering yourself. moisturizing your skin, touching up your nails, and putting on a lacy black bra and matching underwear. You check yourself in the mirror one last time, running your fingers over the tattoo on your hip that he created. Your mirror doesn't lie, how could it? Your curvy brown skin was glowing under the warm lighting of your bedroom, the intricate ink he'd placed on your hip tracing up towards your waist, curling just under the edges of your lace lingerie. You check your reflection one last time, biting your lip.
Eighteen minutes. Fourteen minutes. Three minutes.
Your doorbell rings at 8:28 pm. He’s early. You take one last deep breath, smooth your hands down your sides, and walk to the door. When you open it, he’s standing there in all black leather jacket, jeans, and boots.
He leans against the doorframe, his dark eyes slowly scanning you from head to toe. A low, almost imperceptible hum escapes him, a sound of appreciation. His gaze lingers on the tattoo on your hip, before snapping back to your face.
"Hey, y/n." His voice is low and gravelly. He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, moving through your apartment with a quiet, practiced ease that made you feel slightly exposed. He drops a black duffel bag on the couch, peeling off his leather jacket revealing his tattooed arms, his veins prominent as he rolls up his sleeves exposing the faint scars and ink on his forearms. "Smells good."
You watch him move around your living room, his tall, muscular frame seemingly out of place among your quite feminine decor. He picks up a pillow, examines it briefly, then sets it back down. He turns to face you, his eyes roaming over your body again, he swallows hard.
"Kitchen's where I set up?"
You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift back to professional. You nod, leading him to your small kitchen. He opens his duffel bag, pulling out a tattoo machine, bottles of ink, sterile gloves, and a small ring light. You lean against the counter, your arms crossed under your tits. The lacy bra under your white tank top pushes your chest up, making his adams apple bob as he swallows hard. He's trying hard to focus on setting up. You tilt your head, your eyes challenging him.
"Sit down," you say, patting the kitchen stool beside you, your voice full of amusement. "Unless you're scared of me. Please tell me you're not scared, Choso." He freezes, a bottle of ink in his hand. The silence stretches, his jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer, just stands and moves to sit beside you, all stiff, his back straight like he’s sitting for a court appearance rather than a tattoo session. The stool creaks under his weight and his hands rest on his thighs, his fingers twitching slightly.
"Where's the piece goin'?" He asks, still not looking at you directly.
You grab his hand, and place it directly on top of your chest. “Here maybe?” His hand flinches, just barely, when you close his fingers over your chest. You feel the cold skin of his palm against your warmth, the steady beat of your heart under his touch. He doesn't pull away. He just stares at where his hand rests against you, his jaw tight.
"No." His fingers twitch against the lace bra poking out of your tank top, pressing slightly deeper into the swell of your breast. He swallows hard, the movement visible at his throat and then his voice drops.
"Not there." But his thumb brushes against the edge of your bra, just barely touching the skin. “Well why not? Hm?” You ask quietly. His breath catches. His hand stays. Your heart is pounding loud enough you're sure he can feel it against his palm. He finally lifts his dark eyes to meet yours. "Because if I put ink there..." His thumb traces a slow circle on your skin. “I’d see it every time you move. Every time you breathe. Every time you adjust that shirt." His voice is low and controlled, almost harsh. "Something small on your arm. That's all you're getting tonight."
“You sure I can’t get anything else?” You question, giving him a pouty face and nibbling on your lower lip gently.
"You want more?" His voice drops lower, rougher, as his eyes slide down your body again. lingering on the curve of your stomach, the dip of your waist. "Because there are other places ink would look good on you. Behind your ear. On your thigh. Right here-" his hand glides down your chest, his finger tracing along your stomach, stopping just where your shorts begin.
He taps his fingers against the countertop, the rhythm deliberate.
"On the sternum," he continues, "The ribcage. The inner thigh." He glances at you.
“Mm..” You sigh, turning your head away.
"Don't make that sound." His nostrils flare. His hands curl into fists.
“Fuck, catch a hint, choso.” You scoff and stand up, walking over to your couch and sitting down.
His eyes narrow at your challenge, but he doesn't back down. Instead, he gets up from the kitchen and follows you, sitting down on the couch. He leans in close to your face, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "I don't do hints. You want something? Ask for it. Or sit your pretty ass back on that stool and let me ink your damn arm."
“Fine. I want you to fuck me.” The room goes deadly silent. His jaw clenches so hard you see the muscle twitch. For a long, agonizing moment, he just stares at you, something primal flickering behind his dark eyes. His adams apple bobs once, twice. He looks over at the tattoo machine discarded in the kitchen, then back up, his voice barely controlled. "This is a tattoo appointment, y/n."
You roll your eyes, a small smirk tugging at your lips. "Yeah, yeah, professional boundaries and all that bullshit." You lean back, crossing your arms under your chest, pushing your boobs up further. "But come on. You're the one with the big, hard cock hidden in those jeans." His voice is hoarse, "I'm here to do a job, y/n. A specific job." His eyes flick down to your mouth, lingering for a moment before snapping back up to meet yours.
You scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically. "Oh please. The way you talk to me?.. unless you want to spend the next hour drawing on my arm, you're gonna have to keep those eyes on my face.. not anywhere else.” He hesitates, his jaw tight. But then he's moving, closing the space between you on the couch. his large hand cups your face and tilts your chin up. His thumb brushes your lower lip, and before you can say anything, he's leaning in, his lips pressing against yours. It's slow, and deliberate. As if he's savoring the moment. You feel him pause for a moment, a brief second of restraint before his lips drag along the side of your mouth, chasing the corner. But then his hand comes up to the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your hair and pushing your head forward then he bites the bottom of your lip. A sharp inhale escapes you, your body jolting against the cushions. His teeth are still on your lip, grazing gently, and something primal flickers behind his eyes, maybe want? No, not just want. Hunger. His free hand comes up to grasp your jaw, fingers pressing firmly against your skin.
He's breathing hard. So close to your face. A low, almost involuntary groan ghosts past his lips.
Your hand slides up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. You pull him closer, your lips parting against his, and he finally gives in, his tongue slides into your mouth with a desperate, greedy intensity. One hand is tight in your hair, the other gripping your jaw. As the kiss deepens, his grip tightens. One hand buried in your hair, the other sliding from your jaw down to your hip, clenching the skin and pulling you flush against him. He's kissing you like he's starving. Suddenly he pulls back, “stop.” You pull back slightly as well, your lips swollen and glistening. Your eyes search his face. You can feel his heartbeat thudding against your palm, fast and unsteady.
"Why?" You whisper, your voice breathless. "You gonna tell me this is unprofessional?"
His chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes narrowing to slits. He leans in again, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Because if I keep kissing you, I'm not going to stop at just kissing." His thumb presses firmly against your bottom lip. You raise an eyebrow, not backing down an inch. Your voice is soft but challenging. “Then stop talking and do something about it, Choso. Or are you just gonna stare at me all night?"
He snaps. Something feral breaks loose within him. His hand yanks you forward so hard and before you can gasp, he's shoving your thighs apart with a brutal efficiency that leaves you spread wide on the couch. He drops to the floor between your legs, he slips off your shorts and moves your black panties to the side, his mouth not hesitating, not pausing. His tongue plunges inside you while his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Fuck-" Your hands thread into his hair for stability. His tongue is everywhere, so relentless and devouring. One hand slide up your stomach to grip your tit as his tongue drags slowly and torturously from your slit to your clit, then back, lapping hard, greedy circles that make your back arch off the couch. Your nails dig into the couch cushions, a loud moan escaping you. He doesn't slow down. If anything, he gets worse. His tongue flicks hard against your clit, teasing, then sucks it into his mouth whole, rolling it over his tongue while his fingers slide inside you. One, then two, stretching you generously and curling to press and rub against that spot he happened to find at lightening speed.
Your nails drag down his hair, your head thrashes back, mouth opening in a silent scream as his fingers hit that spot repeatedly. His tongue drags slowly across your clit, teasing, then sucks it hard into his mouth making your thighs shake violently.
"Choso- please—"You're gasping and trembling, your legs wrapped around his head desperately. "I can't-! fuck, I'm-" His fingers curl deeper, his thumb pressing against your clit in tight, brutal circles while he watches you unraveling beneath him. "Don't you dare stop," you gasp, pulling at his hair. "I want to cum on your tongue,”
He groans against your skin, a deep, feral sound sending waves through you before sucking your clit hard between his lips and flicking it with his tongue. His fingers thrust faster, pounding that spot without any mercy. It's too much. It's everything all at once. Your back arches off the couch, a scream tearing from your throat as pleasure detonates through every one of your nerve endings."Oh my god-!"
Your whole body shakes, climax hitting so hard you see stars. But he doesn't stop he keeps at it, his tongue pushing through the peak, making you scream and sob against him. Your thighs tremble around his head, trying to keep him there, but he just digs deeper. His fingers curled hard inside you, hitting that spot over and over. You're shaking and completely undone. Your legs wrap tighter around his head, begging him not to stop, and he’s pushing you through the aftershocks, making you feel everything. Your nails dig into his scalp, pulling at his hair as you gasp. "Choso-!! please—I can't, fuck,” He's whining against your core, pathetic, desperate sounds coming from his lips. His tongue is sloppy now, losing all the precision he earlier had, just devouring you like a starved man. His fingers twitch inside you, curling and uncurling like he can't control them. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows your juices like they're water."Mmmph-" Every groan and noise he makes sends vibrations straight through your already sensitive clit, your hips twitch with every new lick. You can feel his lips pressing against your clit, almost kissing it, whining against your flesh. His fingers tremble inside you just twitching aimlessly now. He's completely lost it, just worshiping at your core. His nose rubs against you, breathing you in, whimpering when you move away.
You hear a frustrated, shaky groan from between your legs, and it makes your stomach flip. His tongue is all over, licking sloppy, uncoordinated circles. "Please," you hear him groan against your skin, the word muffled. "Please just..." He's literally begging at your core. Whimpering like a kicked dog. His nose pushes against your clit, inhaling deeply, so pathetic and needy. "Please," he whimpers again, muffled against your flesh. "Please let me..I can't, please.." He sounds utterly pathetic. His mouth is pressed against you, and you feel his lips trembling, almost... kissing? You can feel every one of his desperate, shaky breaths. "Mmmmph..”His entire body is trembling, his forehead pressed against your thigh and his lips trembling against your clit. "Please y/n," his voice cracks, whining. "Please,"
“Choso.” You feel his hot breath against you, his nose pressing into your core like he's seeking comfort. His tongue drags weakly across your clit.
"F-fuck," he whimpers against you, his voice completely broken. “Say my name again, please,” he whimpers, his voice cracking. You look down at him, shaking your head. "Choso," you breathe. He whimpers against your thigh, clearly miserable. "Please... say it again," You stare down at him, watching his miserably useless head buried between your legs. "Pathetic." You say it flatly. "You're completely pathetic, Choso."
“Shut up,” He whines, his voice completely lost and needy. You wiggle your hips slightly, watching his body jolt. "So desperate," you tease, your voice dripping with mockery. "The big, intimidating tattoo artist reduced to whining between a girl's thighs like a fucking puppy." His head lifts just enough for you to see his eyes. "Don't,” he whispers. You brush your thighs together, coaxing a whimper from him. “You’re a mess.” You state flatly. “I thought you were so controlled, so professional.”
"Please, fuck- please let me..." He whimpers, crying against your skin. “I can't anymore, please let me put it in, please-" He's practically begging now. "Please," he whines, his voice cracking. "Please let me..need to…fuck, please—" His forehead stays pressed against your thigh, trembling. “Fine.”
He immediately stands from the floor and reaches for his belt, hands trembling so badly he can barely undo it. His pants fall around his ankles, and he stares down at you. "Thank you, fuck, thank you-" he whimpers. He climbs back onto the couch and positions himself between your thighs, his hands shaking as he grips your hips. He pushes forward slowly, his head dropping as you take him in completely. He lets out a broken, desperate cry. His forehead presses hard against yours. "I'm inside, oh fuck, inside-,” You look up at his pathetic, trembling form above you. His forehead is pressed against yours, eyes closed, tears streaming down his face. "Still thinking you're intimidating, Choso?" You tease flatly, watching him tremble. "well come on, fuck me." He whimpers instantly, shaking. His hands grasp at the couch, white-knuckled and desperate, but completely ineffective. "I-I can't, fuck, please let me, i just..." You roll your hips up against him, hard. Instantly, he lets out a broken, desperate groan, his whole body jolting. His eyes go wide, completely lost. "Fu—fuck, ohgod..ohgod," His hands fly to grip your hips, fingers digging in painfully. not to guide, not to control, just to hold on desperately.
"Fuck,fuck,fuck,” he moans, his voice completely wrecked. As he slowly adjusts to the warmth and wetness, he starts thrusting into you slowly. His eyes flutter shut as he bites his lip so hard he can taste copper. “God, y-you’re so- warm,” His hips start moving, really moving this time. Not strong, not smooth, but moving. He thrusts into you, harder now, breathing ragged and broken. His hips jerk up and down, completely uncoordinated, hitting you with no rhythm but enough force to make you feel it.
After a few clumsy thrusts, his hips suddenly catch a rhythm. It's not pretty or smooth, but it's working. He starts thrusting harder, his hips snapping up and down with increasing force. His breath comes in ragged, broken gasps. His desperate thrusts make you gasp, your head falling back against the couch and your mouth falling open in a silent moan. You moan loudly, arching your back as his messy thrusts hit you deeper. Your hips lift to meet his, adding your own uncoordinated force to his already brutal one. "Fuck, cho- choso wait!" Your moans get louder and shameless. Your nails dig into his shoulders, hips rolling up to meet his messy pounding. The sound of flesh slapping is deafening, wet and messy. "Fuck, oh my go- Choso!"
He thrusts into you deeper, his speed picking up. His lips crash against yours in a wet kiss, his tongue dragging all around your mouth. The messy, brutal pace reaches its peak, there’s no rhythm or coordination, just raw desperate need. Your bodies slam together, you both cry out at the same time, voices breaking. Hot release floods through both of you simultaneously, it’s hot, pulsing, completely overwhelming. Both of you collapse together, shaking, completely wrecked. His body slides on top of yours, trembling, tears still leaking down his face. His hips twitch inside you. "Fuck,fuck,fuck," he whimpers, completely broken. “Are you.. crying?” You giggle and kiss his forehead. His breath hitches at the kiss, tears still streaming down his face. He buries his face into your neck, unable to look at you, completely embarrassed. "Don't..don't look at me," he whimpers pathetically, his hips still twitching inside you.
“Uh… does this mean my next session is free?”
Wk.3.3k. Please do not repost my work without permission, or feed my work into any AI’s. This is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.
