Choso Kamo X Reader - Blog Posts

Ranking how sensitive the Jujutsu Kaisen men's tits are!

Including- Sugure Geto, Ryomen Sukuna, Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Satoru Gojo and Toji Fushiguro

A/N: Look it took me a little bit to write this- school still kicking my ass. College summer semester unfortunately.

1. Suguru Geto

Look he doesn't have gorgeous tits just for them to be useless. His nipples are so sensitive. (SUCK ON THEM) Since they are so sensitive they get bruised pretty easily. He will moan like crazy when you do suck on them. He just can't help it.

2. Ryomen Sukuna

It's cannon he can lactate. And I will drain every drop from him okay. Since he lactates, of course his tits will be sensitive. And he hates how sensitive they are. Absolutely hates how flushed he gets the second you touch them.

3. Kento Nanami

Hot take I think he's really sensitive like everywhere. I'm not sure why but I feel like he's so sensitive especially around his chest. He's never experimented with his chest so when you even kiss around them he's losing it. Moaning and groaning like crazy. He's so cute omg.

4. Choso Kamo

Baby boy is sensitive to everything. I don't think his tits are as sensitive as the rest of him. Yes sensitive, (kiss his tits pls) , but not gonna cry over them. There are plenty other ways to make him cry though!

5. Satoru Gojo

Another hot take, I don't think Gojo's chest is that sensitive. I think his dick is crazy sensitive but the rest of him not so much.

6. Toji Fushiguro

He isn't sensitive at all. He likes nipple play but it does nothing for him. He's too much muscle for it to actually do anything. He loves watching you try your best though. Kiss his chest. He doesn't mind at all

A/N: hopefully gonna post more!! Requests are open <33

Song of the day!! 🤍💜

Song of the day!! 🤍💜

Song the day!! 🤍💜

Song of the day!! 🤍💜

Song of the day!! 🤍💜

If hating meant loving...

He hates how incredibly beautiful you are. Your features are so soft, so perfect, that sometimes he feels like he's looking at an angel.

He hates the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, a unique smile, reserved only for him.

He hates that smile that lights up your lips when something small makes you happy, as if for something insignificant.

He hates the softness of your lips when they rest against his, a tender kiss that makes him lose all reason.

He hates the way your hair blows in the wind, or the elegance with which it spreads on the pillow, forming perfect waves.

He hates the softness of your hands, which brush against his face with unbearable tenderness.

He hates the warmth of your arms when they embrace him, bringing him a comfort he thinks he doesn't deserve.

He hates the roundness of your thighs, when they wrap around him in an intimate, almost unreal embrace.

He hates the purity of your personality, the kindness that overwhelms him with every gesture, every word.

He hates the warmth and love you radiate just for him. You're his refuge without him realizing it.

He hates the way your heart seems to beat for him, even when he doesn't deserve it so much.

He hates everything about you... how is it possible to hate someone as much as he does?

the character you loves 💗 ⟢﹒ masterlist

synopsis: the difference in size between your hand and your bf/husband's hand.

character [separate]: Nanami Kento x reader, Gojo Satoru x reader, Suguru Geto x reader, Toji Fushiguro x reader, Sukuna Ryomen x reader, Choso Kamo x reader.

warning: cute, adorable, humor and love love loveeee

words: 2780.

Kento N.

The kitchen is silent, animated only by the rattle of utensils and the sweet scent of vanilla floating in the air. Nanami is focused, his large, precise hands kneading the dough with controlled fluidity.

For your part, you try to keep up with him, but one thing distracts you: the glaring difference between your hands.

You've always known this, of course. Nanami is a tall, firm man, and his hands reflect his. They're wide, with long, strong, and thick fingers. Only you know how effective they are in certain situations.

Besides, your hands seem almost fragile. You observe the contrast: his palm almost entirely covering yours, the difference in width between your fingers, the way your wedding band looks delicate where his feels massive on his hand.

Suddenly, he notices your gaze fixed on your hands and raises an eyebrow. "What is it?" he asks calmly. His gaze is soft on you. You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your lips. "Nothing, it's just... I feel like I have doll hands compared to yours."

Nanami looks down at your clasped hands on the counter. He studies them for a moment, then gently places his palm against yours. As expected, his own almost entirely encompasses it. He lightly presses his fingers against yours, curiously testing the difference.

"It's true, it's quite striking," he admits. He gently turns your hand, examining a precious object. "They're small... but agile."

You smile, rolling your eyes. "You make me feel tiny." He runs his thumb over your ring, an unconscious gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His fingers, though larger and rougher, are surprisingly soft as they brush against your skin.

"Maybe I like the difference," he says finally. "It reminds me to always look out for you."

You sigh, crossing your arms. "You know, I'm not as fragile as you think."

A small smile tugs at his lips as he takes your hand and places it against his once more. He gently intertwines your fingers, the size difference even more pronounced.

"I never said you were fragile," he murmurs. "I just like knowing my hand is there to wrap around yours."

He finally lets go of your hand to return to the dough, but the contact remains imprinted on your skin. Even without his fingers wrapped around yours, the sensation remains.

You look at your hands side by side again, fascinated by the difference. And even though Nanami doesn't say it directly, you understand that for him, this difference is not insignificant.

Gojo S.

You sit next to Gojo on the couch, a little tired after a busy day, your legs tucked under you, trying to find a comfortable position. But before you can truly relax, you feel a gentle but firm pressure on your hand.

Surprised, you turn your head to see Gojo looking at you with a playful smile. He just had his hand extended, taking yours. "Hey! Let go of my hand."

He looks at you with a mockingly innocent expression, but you immediately notice the amusement in his sky-blue eyes. "Are you serious? Your hands are so small, I could lose them in mine. It's cute."

You frown, a little embarrassed by the remark, but he continues to look at you with a mischievous smile. You try to pull your hand away, but he keeps it firmly intertwined in his. "Gojo, seriously?..."

He leans slightly towards you, bringing your hands together to show you the difference. Your hand seems to almost disappear into his, and you find yourself, once again, facing this obvious reality.

"See? It's crazy how tiny your fingers are next to mine. It almost makes me feel sorry for you, babe."

You gently push him away, a little exasperated, but despite your attitude, you feel a slight shiver run down your arm with each movement of his fingers.

"I'm not a kid, Gojo."

"I know, I know, I'm joking, babe... But you have to admit, it's cute. And besides, that means I can protect you, right? I can hide you behind me if you ever get scared."

He squeezes your hand a little tighter, not forcing you, but enough to make you feel the warmth of his palm. You look up at him, a hint of red on your cheeks, but this time, you don't push him away. He leans a little closer to you, his voice becoming softer.

"I like holding your hand... I really do. It feels good."

Your heart skips a beat at his words. He's speaking simply to you, and you sense the sincerity in his words.

"It's true... It feels good."

"Yeah? That's what I thought. So I'll hold your hand, okay? No running away this time."

You look up at him, almost surprised by the softness beneath his playful demeanor. He squeezes your hand a little tighter, and this time, you let him, feeling a little calmer and more protected by his side. "You're insufferable."

He bursts out laughing, but you can see in his eyes that he's never been more serious. He really enjoys this silent connection between you, this simple act of holding your hand. And, oddly enough, you enjoy it too.

"I know, I know... But admit it, you like having a big hand to hold you, don't you?"

You look at him silently for a few seconds, and before answering, you gently tighten your grip. "Yes... maybe."

Geto S.

The first time you really noticed the difference in size between your hand and Geto's was one day when you were walking quietly together. It was a bit chilly, and without even thinking, you slipped your hand into his.

Immediately, his long, warm fingers closed their grip on yours, and that's when it hit you: your hand felt tiny in his.

Geto has slender but strong hands. His fingers are long and elegant, and when he squeezes your hand, he does so with obvious tenderness, as if he were holding something precious.

“Hmm… your hand is really small,” he murmurs with an amused smile, comparing your palms.

He spreads his fingers, inviting you to do the same. You place your palm against his, and the difference is striking: his fingers extend well beyond yours, his hand almost seeming to encompass yours entirely.

“It's cute,” he adds, slowly intertwining your fingers and looking at you with a glow of infinite love.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Do you think it's cute?” A slight blush appears on your cheeks, a little embarrassed.

“Of course,” he says with a small smile, tilting his head slightly. “It reminds me how cute I think you are.”

His tone is light, but there's an undeniable sincerity in his words. You feel the warmth emanating from his hand, the contrast between the imposing size of his and yours.

He looks down at your fingers trapped in his and gently squeezes your hand. “I like holding your hand like this,” he continues in a softer voice. “It makes me feel safe. You're always next to me.”

You smile a little before squeezing his hand a little tighter in return. “Me too.”

Geto looks at you for a moment before lifting your intertwined hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on your fingers. He doesn't need to say more. Through this simple contact, he lets you know everything he feels for you.

And you let yourself be enveloped by this gentle warmth, appreciating the difference in size between your hands. You find it cute too, to be honest.

Toji F.

It's evening, and after a long week, you're comfortably settled on the couch with a bucket of tenders. The enticing aroma fills the room, and there's only one last piece left, sitting innocently in the center of the coffee table.

You glance furtively at Toji, who seems to have spotted it as well. A smirk forms on his lips, and you know this battle is going to be about more than just food.

"I think this chicken belongs to me," he says in a low, amused voice, his eyes challenging you from across the table.

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh, really? I thought I was the one who called the shots tonight. I did order, after all."

Toji bursts out laughing, a deep, seductive sound. He reaches for the piece of chicken. "You know, I think we're not on the same page when it comes to chicken."

Before you can even answer, you reach out as well, trying to grab the last piece of chicken at the same time as him. But, of course, Toji doesn't budge. He grabs your hand with a jerk, and you feel the difference in strength in his grip.

His hands are large, his fingers long and firm. His almost completely envelops yours, making your hand seem so small in comparison. His thumb rests on the top of your hand, restraining you slightly, but not aggressively. It's just... his natural power, the way he effortlessly dominates.

"Your hand is far too small to compete with mine," he says, grinning, his eyes shining with mischief.

You frown and try to pull at the piece of chicken. "You underestimate my determination, Toji."

But the more you pull, the more you feel the difference in size and strength between the two of you. He doesn't have to force you to hold on, and you're well aware that even if you really want that piece of chicken, you can't fight his grip.

"Okay, okay," you finally say, smiling. "You can have that last piece. But you won't get away with it so easily next time, T-O-J-I, and I don't have a small hand."

Toji laughs again, but instead of simply keeping the piece for himself, he holds it out to you, a softer smile on his face. "You're even cuter when you fight over chicken with your little baby hand."

He watches you for a moment, and you feel his gaze slide down to your hand still resting on his. "Shut up. You're annoying me, Toji." Your cheeks turn slightly red.

With a certain gentleness, he drops the piece onto your plate, without any sign of dominance this time. You're cute when you pout, especially over chicken, Toji thinks.

Toji flops onto the couch, a satisfied smile on his lips. “It was fun, but we both know I’m the fastest.”

You laugh, taking a bite of the chicken he’d 'left' for you. “Yes. I can confirm… even in bed, Toji.”

He stares at you intensely, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Say that again, princess?” You knew he’d make you regret it.

Sukuna R.

Sukuna's hands are imposing, inhuman in their size and power. When he takes your hand, it's as if the universe around you shrinks. His hand, much larger than yours, envelops yours with a quiet mastery, a natural dominance.

His skin is warm, and the texture of his fingers, rough, contrasts with the softness of yours. But it's not unpleasant. Rather, it's pleasant, a mixture of respect and adoration.

He is your king, and you, his queen.

You feel small next to him, but it's a feeling you've learned to appreciate. In his hand, you find a protection that requires no words. Sukuna doesn't need to tell you he'll protect you; he proves it every day with his gestures.

He squeezes your hand in a possessive yet tender way, as if he wants to mark you with his presence. Even his presence can be felt from afar. “Your hand… It’s so small compared to mine,” he murmurs, his deep voice echoing in the air. His eyes fix on you, a glint of amusement in yours.

“But I don’t need a hand that big,” you reply, looking him straight in the eye. “As long as you’re holding it.” A smile forms on your lips.

Sukuna lets a faint smile play on his lips, a loving smile that sends shivers down your spine.

“You are mine. Even though your hands are small, they are more powerful than any other. For they belong to me.”

He squeezes a little tighter, and you feel no pain, just an overwhelming presence. Your hand is completely engulfed in his. You’ve never been so sure of your love for him.

He is your king, but in his gestures, you see the man behind the crown. The one who cares for you, even with his sovereign nature. Others might fear his hand, but you see it as a symbol of his strength and love for you.

“Sukuna…” you whisper, your heart beating a little faster.

“I know,” he says with a teasing smile, his fingers tightening around yours once more. “I am your king, but also… I am your husband. I must fulfill my duties as your husband now.”

“Sukuna!”

Choso K.

Choso smiles at you tenderly as he takes your hand in his. His long, slender fingers gently envelop yours. He watches you with gentle eyes, as if making sure you're comfortable, and a small smile forms on his lips.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks softly, his voice low and reassuring. He frowns slightly, worried about any pain or discomfort you might feel.

You lift your head and meet his gaze. The size difference between your hands is striking, your hand seeming so small and fragile compared to his. But Choso never makes you feel inferior or vulnerable.

On the contrary, he squeezes your hand even more gently, as if to protect you, to show you that he's there for you, without ever making you feel his strength in a threatening way.

“I'm okay, baby,” you say with a reassuring smile, giving your hand a little squeeze in his. “You know I love it when you hold my hand.”

He blushes slightly at your words, and you see his gaze soften even more. It's moments like these when his adorably shy side resurfaces, even though he's usually pretty quiet and reserved.

“You really are the most important person to me,” he murmurs then, looking down. “I always want to protect you. Even if it's just for a moment like this.”

The warmth of his skin against yours is comforting, reminding you how much he cares, even in the simplest of moments. He takes a moment to gently stroke the back of your hand with his thumb, creating a pleasantly soft sensation.

“I love the way you look at me,” you whisper back, your heart beating a little faster. “It makes me feel… special.”

Choso looks up at you, a shy but genuine smile playing on his lips. He's truly adorable, even when he tries to hide the depth of his feelings.

"You are," he says, his voice filled with tenderness. "You're special to me."

There's no doubt in your mind: Choso is, without a doubt, the sweetest man you know.

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

© 2025 itelya. All work belongs to @itelya. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

synopsis: valentines day with your boyfriend/husband.

character [separate]: Nanami Kento x reader, Gojo Satoru x reader, Suguru Geto x reader, Toji Fushiguro x reader, Sukuna Ryomen x reader, soo cute! Choso Kamo x reader, Megumi Fushiguro x reader, Yuji Itadori x reader (fem!)

warning: love and short srry 💗… don't be mad at me for what i did for Toji😓

words: 2690.

Kento N.

Nanami wasn’t really the type to celebrate Valentine’s Day. To him, this day was a “commercial holiday,” an artificial opportunity to prove his love. He believed that love was built on a daily basis, in simple gestures and small attentions. So, you thought you would spend a quiet evening, like every year.

But when you returned home that night, you were surprised. The house was enveloped in a soft and warm atmosphere: candles lit everywhere, soft lighting, a nicely set table with elegant plates and a bouquet of flowers. Dinner was ready, a dish that Nanami had carefully prepared himself, accompanied by your favorite wine.

“It’s not much,” he said as he joined you in the room, a discreet smile on his lips. “But I thought it would be nice to spend some time together.”

You looked at him, touched by the attention he had put into this dinner. This gesture means much more to you than anything else. You spent a quiet evening, full of laughter, tender conversations and shared silences, as if this dinner was a simple and sincere way of saying "I love you".

When dessert was served, he placed his hand on yours, his gaze tender but discreet. "I know Valentine's Day doesn't mean much to us, but I wanted to show you how much you mean to me," he said softly. "With this moment together. Because with you, every day is a bit like Valentine's Day."

Moved, you smiled at him, squeezing his hand in yours. After a few seconds of comfortable silence, you got up to clear the table. Then, as you found yourself upstairs, Nanami turned to you with a slight smile. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love," he whispered, before kissing you softly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Ken,” you replied, touched by the sincerity of his words more than any gesture. And in that simplicity, you felt more loved than ever.

Gojo S.

The sun is barely rising when Gojo arrives at your door, a mischievous smile on his face. Before you can even react, he grabs your hand and whisks you away on a memorable day, where every minute seems more absurd than the last.

First stop: a private helicopter, a flight over Tokyo. The wind whips your face as you fly over the city illuminated by the first rays of the sun. You hold on to the helm, your heart pounding, a mixture of pleasure and terror.

Gojo, for his part, laughs as he sees you hanging on, his face like a permanent challenge. “It’s nothing, just relax!” he assures you, but you know he loves seeing you out of your comfort zone.

The highlight of the show comes when he drags you into an impromptu photo shoot. In the middle of the street, under the neon lights and curious glances of passersby, Gojo strikes ridiculous poses while making you laugh. Then, without warning, he takes a picture of you up close, capturing the moment when you let yourself go into a genuine smile.

Finally, Gojo takes you to the roof of a skyscraper, the breathtaking view of the city all around you, illuminated by sparkling fairy lights. The cool wind makes you shiver, but he keeps you close to him, a smirk on his face.

“So?” he asks, leaning a little closer to you, his mischievous eyes scrutinizing you with an almost childish amusement. “What was the best part of the day?”

You look at him, rolling your eyes as you smile. You know he’s expecting an extravagant answer. So, you lean down and kiss him briefly, just enough to surprise him.

“I’ll say.. everything was great, but the helicopter ride… I thought I was going to throw up. Never again please.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head, and pulls you into his arms. “It’s all you,” he says, pulling you closer, before catching your lips in a slow but passionate kiss. Time seems to stop for a moment, the sounds of the distant city drowned out by the intensity of his kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he whispers against your lips, a satisfied smile on his face. He holds you tighter in his arms, and you let yourself go with the magic of the moment.

Geto S.

The night is quiet on this Valentine’s night, and the atmosphere in your apartment is softer than usual. The wind blowing lightly against the windows lets you hear a distant murmur of the couples outside.

Geto comes home with your spare keys and silently places a small box of chocolates in your hands, before settling down next to you on the couch.

You turn your gaze to him. He says nothing, his eyes drowned in a discreet embarrassment, as if each word he was going to say was weighed carefully.

He takes a moment to look at the box in your hands before slowly turning it away, a slight smile growing at the corner of his lips. “I’m not really good at this kind of thing,” he murmurs. He almost seems to hesitate, embarrassed by the simplicity of the gesture, but nevertheless, his eyes shine with a touching sincerity.

His fingers slide almost imperceptibly on your skin, a silent caress. A small smile forms on his face, a smile that seems to come straight from a bygone era, where he was still able to believe in a quiet love, without pain or torment.

“You know… if we were somewhere else, in another life,” he begins, his voice soft but marked by an indecipherable depth, “I think I would have wanted to take you away from here.” He lets out a soft sigh, as if this impossible wish came from another reality.

He takes a short breath, then, with an almost imperceptible gesture, he hands you the rose he has placed next to him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says, almost in a low voice, as if there is more to those words than what they seem to be. You smile at him tenderly and lean towards him, then kiss him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day too, Geto.”

Toji F.

If you bet on the fact that Toji Fushiguro would have forgotten that it’s Valentine’s Day. And honestly, it wouldn’t even be a surprise. This guy is the type to disappear for days, come back like a shadow without warning even though he’s your boyfriend. Then drag you to your bed with a smirk and leave like nothing happened but you still love him like an idiot.

So a commercial holiday? Spending money? Might as well forget it. That’s why, when he hands you a small paper bag, you blink in surprise.

“Here.”

“…What?”

He sighs, already looking annoyed. “Tch. Just take it.” You grab the package warily and look inside. A frown. “…Toji. It’s instant noodles.”

“And?” He smiles like there’s no problem and raises an eyebrow at your surprised expression. “You’re offering me… noodles?”

“You like them, right?” He raises an eyebrow, as if it’s obvious. You stand there, between incomprehension and amusement, before bursting out laughing. “Are you serious, Toji?”

“Listen, would you have preferred that I blow my money on useless crap? A heart-shaped necklace, maybe?” He snickers, crossing his arms. “I know you. I know you always forget to buy more when you run out. So yeah, it’s a gift. Take it and shut up.”

You shake your head, still laughing, and grab the collar of his jacket to pull him towards you. “You really are an idiot, Toji.”

“And you’re still here, stupid lover,” he replies, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, a smile playing on the corner of his lips. Ultimately, it suits you. Because Toji, even with his questionable ways, thinks of you in his own way. And deep down, that’s all that matters.

Sukuna R.

Valentine’s Day, you didn’t expect it. As Sukuna’s wife, you were used to displays of power rather than tender gestures. But on this day, something seemed different. As you prepared yourself in your chambers, you felt a familial presence slip into the room without making a sound.

Sukuna, in all his majesty, looked at you with a different glow than usual. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my queen,” he said in a deep voice, his imposing royal posture even more respectful, but there was an unusual softness in his words.

He approached you, an almost imperceptible kiss on his lips, and in his hands, a shiny object: a necklace adorned with precious stones the color of his rare eyes and a secret inscription.

The gesture surprised you, more than you would have imagined. The king of curses offering a gift, and yet, the intention behind it was clear. This necklace wasn’t just a gift; it was a token of his possession, but in a subtle way. He holds it out in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror of your dressing table, as if to make sure you like this necklace.

“This necklace is a sign,” he murmured as he brushed his fingers over your neck, gently sliding the jewel around you. “A sign that you are mine. No one else can ever claim you.” Okay baby?"

A shadow of a smile appeared on his face, but he didn't seem to want to let go of his gaze, as if he was trying to make sure that you understood the depth of his words. Then he closed the clasp of the necklace.

His hands slowly slid into your hair, your eyes meeting his. He was still this ruthless king, but today, there was something more tender, a form of sincere love that seemed rare to you.

"Thank you so much Suku, it's so beautiful.. Happy Valentine's Day, my love," you said, you smiled at him tenderly. He then leaned down, his lips gently brushing your ear, the contact light but loaded with that imposing presence that characterized him.

While being possessive, he wasn't trying to smother you, but to remind you that, for him, you were everything to him. He's just crazy in love.

Choso K.

You see the surprise in Choso’s eyes as you hand him the carefully prepared box of chocolates. He seems both surprised and a little hesitant. “Is this… for me?” He looks at you, as if the very idea of ​​receiving something is a novelty.

You nod, a shy smile on your lips. “Yeah, for you. It’s… it’s for Valentine’s Day.” You feel a little nervous, but he makes you feel like it matters, that your gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

He takes a heart-shaped chocolate and brings it to his lips, his eyes closed for a moment, savoring the sweetness of the chocolate. Then, after a few seconds, he looks at you with a soft smile, almost a little embarrassed.

“It’s sweet… like you,” he says, and his cheeks blush slightly.

You laugh softly, feeling your cheeks blush. “It’s just chocolate, Choso.” But you can see in his eyes that it’s not that easy for him. It’s maybe the first time he’s received something like this, such a sincere, simple gesture, but so precious to him.

Then, in a shy burst, he leans towards you and places a kiss on your cheek, his warmth melting you. “Thank you,” he murmurs, almost in a breath. “Really.”

You look at him, a smile that doesn’t leave your lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Choso. I’m glad to have you as a boyfriend.” He stays there for a moment, his eyes locked on yours, before answering with a sincerity that touches you deeply:

“Me too. Really.” His hands gently rest on your shoulders, as if to pull you a little closer to him. “I’ve never had a gift. It’s- it’s a little strange, but it makes me… feel good.”

You feel yourself melting under his words, his honesty and his sweetness. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, but never had the chance to experience. And you’re here to give him what he’s always deserved.

“You don’t have to say that, you know,” you whisper, gently caressing his hand. “I’m doing it because you deserve it, Choso.” He leans down again, this time to kiss you softly on the lips, a kiss that’s tender and full of promise. “Thanks for the chocolates, and happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

Megumi F.

Megumi has never been one to celebrate Valentine's Day. He finds it commercial, cliché... But when he sees the small box of chocolates that you hand him, your cheeks a little red, he can't help but feel touched. He takes the box with a slight sigh, but his gaze betrays his emotion.

"You didn't have to..." he murmurs, avoiding your gaze. However, he opens the box and takes a chocolate, the sweet taste contrasting with the heat that begins to rise to his cheeks.

"It's just chocolate, Megumi. Don't be so red." you answer, laughing softly. He just looks away and doesn't answer.

Then he looks at you for a moment before looking away, and after a moment of hesitation, he slips his hand into his coat pocket and hands you a small package. "Here... it's not much, but... Happy Valentine's Day."

When you open it, you discover a lucky charm in the shape of your pet almost with small accessories. You look up at him, surprised. "You say it's commercial, but did you still think to buy me something?"

Megumi crosses his arms, looking away. "Shut up," he whispers, red rising to his ears.

You can't help but smile at the obvious embarrassment on his face. Megumi, who spends his time playing indifferent, is blushing because of a simple gift exchange.

You turn the lucky charm between your fingers, admiring the details. He really took the time to choose something that would please you. Your heart squeezes gently at this thought.

"I like it a lot," you say as you attach the lucky charm to your bag. "Thank you, Megumi." A slight smile appears on his lips.

Yuji I.

Yuji, with his joyful and boundless energy, is determined to make this Valentine’s Day unforgettable, even if he’s not exactly an expert in traditions. From the moment you wake up, he surprises you with a carefully planned day:

A marathon of romantic movies—though you can tell he’s struggling not to laugh or roll his eyes at the overly cheesy scenes. A baking session where the two of you attempt to make homemade chocolates.

And finally, an evening stroll under the city lights, where Yuji impulsively insists on buying you a giant stuffed animal, just because he thinks it would make you smile.

As the day winds down, the sun dipping below the horizon, you both collapse onto a park bench, exhausted but happy. Laughter still bubbles between you as you recall the absolute disaster that was your chocolate-making attempt.

Yuji turns to you, his warm, sincere smile making your heart skip a beat, his eyes shining with an affection that needs no words.

“You know, I’m really glad I got to spend today with you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was kinda worried I’d mess up Valentine’s Day, but honestly… this was amazing.”

Then, with an adorable hesitation, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. “I made this myself, you know. It’s for you.” His voice is both proud and a little nervous, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react.

Curious, you carefully unwrap it, revealing a handmade bracelet, simple, yet crafted with care. You run your fingers over it, touched by the effort he put into it, a warm smile spreading across your lips. “It’s perfect, Yuji, really. And for your first Valentine’s Day… I have to say, you did an amazing job.”

His laughter rings out before he suddenly pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth enveloping you completely. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N!”

You laugh softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Yuji.” And in that moment, frozen in time, you know this day will stay with you forever.

any opinion is appreciated! thanks for reading till the end 💗

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

© 2025 itelya. All work belongs to @itelya. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

synopsis: you have insecurities and your loving boyfriend comforts you

character [separate]: Nanami Kento x reader, Gojo Satoru x reader, Suguru Geto x reader, Toji Fushiguro x reader, Sukuna Ryomen x reader, Choso Kamo x reader, Megumi Fushiguro x reader, Yuji Itadori x reader. (fem!)

warning: complex about weight, face, stretch marks, pimples, ass, boobs, nose, thighs and too much love! (rare mention of Y/N)

words: 4550.

Kento N.

You stand in front of the mirror in your and Kento’s bedroom, staring at your reflection with a disgusted look. Your eyes linger on the curves of your body, scrutinizing every detail, hoping that something can change. You run a hand over your stomach, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “If only I were thinner…” you think, a feeling of frustration rising in you, tears threatening to fall.

The bedroom door opens slowly. Kento enters, a small smile on his lips, but he stops as soon as he sees your expression. He knows you by heart, and he immediately senses that something is wrong. Slowly, he approaches you, his gaze filled with softness, as if he wants to wrap you in a cocoon of comfort.

“You know that you are beautiful, right?” he says, his voice low, full of tenderness, but also of certainty.

You turn your head slightly, surprised to see him. His eyes stare at you with such sincerity, but your heart remains heavy. “You don’t understand, Kento. I… I feel… so bad. I can’t get rid of this. I hate my body.” Your voice trembles, marked by uncertainty and sadness.

He moves closer, and without a word, he stands behind you. His hands gently rest on your stomach, and he looks at you through the mirror, his gaze filled with love and understanding. He gently caresses your skin, as if to soothe your anxieties.

“I love you just the way you are,” he whispers, his voice soft, but firm. “No matter the curves, no matter the weight. What matters is you, the soul that hides behind this body.”

The tears threatening to fall stop for a moment, your eyes filling with tears of gratitude. His words, his gestures, everything about him surrounds you with infinite tenderness. You lower your eyes, drowning in his words.

Kento turns you around and gently takes your chin to force you to look him in the eyes. His gaze is so intense, so gentle, that you feel instantly soothed. His eyes shine with love, and you could melt in his gaze like butter.

“You are perfect for me,” he says, his voice resonating in your heart. “You don’t need to look like any standard to be beautiful. Beauty lies in what you really are.”

A small shy smile appears on your lips, a slight weight leaving your heart. Even if your complexes were not going to disappear overnight, Kento gave you the strength to face them. He gave you the strength to be yourself, fully, without needing to change anything.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, your eyes shining with gratitude. “You’re right. It’s time I started accepting myself as I am.”

He smiles, a tender smile that melts your heart, and without another word, he gently embraces you. His muscular arms close around you with infinite tenderness, holding you against him, protecting you, offering you all his love. Then he kisses you, a soft kiss, full of promises and sweetness.

“And I will always be there to remind you how incredible you are,” he murmurs against your lips, before holding you even closer to him. His arms give you a feeling of absolute safety, as if nothing could ever harm you.

In his arms, you feel both strong and vulnerable, but above all, you feel loved. And with him, you know that you will eventually learn to accept yourself as you are.

Gojo S.

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, arms crossed around your chest as if to hide from your own judgment. A sigh escapes your lips, heavy and laden with an old insecurity that refuses to leave you. You put on a tight black dress, bought on impulse, encouraged by your friends. But now, alone under your sad gaze, you wonder if you didn't make a mistake.

A light knock hits the door, making you jump.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Satoru Gojo's amused voice echoes from the other side. "You left to get ready ages ago. If you wanted to make me impatient, you succeeded. I already miss you, you know."

You bite your lip. Of course, he's joking, as always. But just the idea that he could look at you and... notice, paralyzes you. “I… I’m coming, give me a second,” you answer in a shaky voice that you hoped would be firm.

A moment of silence falls before you hear the creak of the door opening slowly. “Can I come in? I promise, I’ll close my eyes,” he says, although you know full well that he hasn’t. You know him well, too well.

“No, stay outside!” you protest, but it’s too late. He’s already slipped his head into the frame, a mischievous smile lighting up his face. Normally, he would melt you but he makes you uncomfortable at this moment.

“Well, good evening, beautiful…” he says, his blue eyes shining with tenderness behind his glasses. However, his smile fades slightly when he notices your discomfort.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks, this time without any hint of mockery. He opens the door a little wider and enters, leaning against the wall.

You look away, nervously playing with your fingers. “It’s… that dress. I shouldn’t wear it. It doesn’t fit me.”

He frowns, clearly puzzled. “Why do you say that? It fits you perfectly. You look beautiful, babe.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you whisper. “She.. she.. nothing, forget it. I’m going to change.”

He tilts his head slightly, curious. “No no no. Tell me what’s wrong. You know I don’t like it when you do.” You gesture vaguely to your chest, feeling your cheeks burn. “I.. that. They’re… too small. It looks ridiculous in a dress like that.”

A silence follows your words, but it’s not awkward. It’s more of a suspended moment, where Satoru looks at you with this disarming intensity that makes your heart beat faster. Then, he bursts out laughing.

“Are you serious? Y/N, are you telling me that you’re worried about this?” You glare at him. “Stop laughing, Satoru, I’m serious!”

He raises his hands in surrender, although an amused smile still dances on his lips. “Okay, sorry. But… you have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?”

You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “Gojo…”

“No, listen to me.” This time, his tone is more serious. “You know what I see when I look at you? I see a confident, funny, intelligent, and yes sexy woman. I think you’re perfect even if you have small breasts like you’re implying.”

Your cheeks heat up under the intensity of his gaze, and you lower your eyes, embarrassed. “You say that to reassure me.” He approaches slowly, placing his hands on your shoulders. “No, I say that because it’s true.”

His fingers slide up to your chin to gently lift your face. His blue eyes, as captivating as a cloudless sky, are fixed on yours. “You’re so beautiful. If anyone thinks otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me. But honestly, who would dare criticize a queen? My queen? Mine.” He smiles softly and laughs lightly.

A laugh escapes you in spite of yourself, and you shake your head. “You’re so.. I don’t know actually.”

“Are you losing your words, baby?” You roll your eyes, but a shy smile lights up your face. “Maybe yes but thank you, Gojo.”

“You’re welcome. Now, stop hiding. This dress is beautiful, and you, even more so. Come on, come on.”

He holds out his hand to you, his smile bright as always, but this time, there seems to be a silent promise in his gestures: that of seeing you as he sees you, today and always.

Geto S.

The soft light of the late afternoon sun gently seeps into your apartment, wrapping every corner in a comforting warmth. You’re sitting down, your phone in your hands. Your gaze lingers on the photos scrolling past, perfect faces, fine noses, so harmonious. With every comparison, your heart tightens a little more.

In the kitchen, Geto is cooking quietly, preparing dinner. But even as he focuses on his task, he can’t ignore your unusual silence or the subtle sadness that seems to hover around you.

He sets down the knife he’s holding and approaches you. In a few steps, he’s in front of you, crouching to catch your gaze.

“Hey, you okay, baby?” he murmurs softly.

You startle slightly, surprised, before placing your phone face down on the coffee table. “Yeah… I’m fine,” you reply, but your voice utterly lacks conviction.

He tilts his head to the side, a small smirk on his lips. “You know I’m not going to believe that, right?” You look away, a sigh escaping your lips. “It’s nothing, Geto. Just… a stupid thing.”

“Nothing that bothers you is stupid,” he replies, sitting down beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you close and smiling at you. “Come on, tell me.”

You hesitate, nervously fidgeting with a crease in your pants. Finally, you murmur, “My nose.”

He blinks, surprised. “Your nose?”

“Yes, my nose,” you repeat, your voice trembling. “It’s too big, too… weird. Sometimes I feel like it’s all people notice. I feel like it ruins my face…”

A silence settles, but it’s not heavy. Geto looks at you with infinite tenderness, his fingers slipping into your hair to comfort you.

“Do you want to know what I think when I look at your nose?” he murmurs at last. You nod slightly, unable to meet his eyes.

“I think he’s perfect. Because it’s yours.” Your eyes timidly rise to meet his, your cheeks burning under the intensity of his gaze.

“Listen to me,” he continues. “I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t feel that way, because it’s normal to have doubts. But I want you to understand something: your nose is part of what makes you unique. It gives character to your face, and it’s that face that I love, more and more every single day.”

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, so soft that your eyes instinctively close.

“And you know what else?” he adds with a playful smile. “This nose, I find it so adorable that I could spend my whole life kissing it.”

“Stop,” you protest with a quiet laugh, your cheeks now on fire. “No,” he retorts, placing another kiss, then another, until you burst out laughing. “I’m dead serious.”

You snuggle into him, burying your face in his neck to hide your smile. “You’re insufferable, Geto.”

“Maybe. But for you, I’ll happily stay insufferable,” he replies, gently running his fingers through your hair. “Because I love you. All of you. And your nose, my dear, is part of the package.”

A sigh escapes you, but this time it’s one of relief. His words settle in your heart, dispelling your insecurities like clouds under the sun.

“Thank you,” you murmur against his skin, your voice trembling with emotion.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing your ear. “But remember, I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it.”

And in his arms, cradled by the golden evening light and his reassuring words, you feel your insecurity fade away. In that moment, you realize that in his eyes, you are already perfect. In your own way.

Toji F.

The morning light gently bathes the room, making the atmosphere peaceful. You stand in front of the mirror, dressed in your favorite shorts and a loose tank top. You turn slightly, pulling on the fabric to examine your reflection from different angles. But with each glance, the same thought comes back to you: “My ass is not enough.”

You lightly pinch the skin of your hips, hoping to see something change. But nothing satisfies you. For a few days, this complex has been haunting you, and today, it’s even heavier.

The door opens abruptly, revealing Toji, shirtless, in jogging pants, a lazy and amused smile hanging on his lips. He holds a cup of coffee that he places on the dresser before leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe.

“So, what’s this scene? Are you casting for a fashion show or something?” he jokes, his tone mocking but tender.

You roll your eyes, sighing. “Toji, not now.” Intrigued, he enters the room, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. He walks over and stands behind you, his hands naturally coming to rest on your hips.

“Come on, tell me. You have that ‘I’m worrying too much about nothing’ face.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. Finally, reluctantly, you blurt out, “I think… my ass isn’t great.”

He stays silent, as if he needs a moment to digest your words. Then, a deep, low laugh echoes through the room. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his amused smile reflected in the mirror.

“Your ass? Seriously? Is that what you’re complaining about?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Yeah, my ass. I think it’s too flat.” Not round enough, not… attractive enough.”

Toji arches an eyebrow, letting his large hands slide from your hips to your buttocks, grabbing them without any embarrassment. He pretends to think, lightly pressing the flesh with his thumbs. “Hmm… I would say that you are completely off the mark.”

You turn your head slightly to give him a skeptical look. “Toji, be serious.”

He leans forward a little, and his voice becomes softer, although a smile persists on his lips. “I am serious. Your ass is perfect. Like, really perfect. Not too much, not too little. Just the way I like it. And believe me, I know what I am talking about.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his words, even if you can’t help but sigh. He is unbearable, but you know that he is always honest.

He straightens up slightly, pats your behind with a familiar and slightly redneck gesture, but strangely reassuring. “Listen, you don’t need an Insta-model ass to please me. You’re you, and I’m totally fine with that.”

He spins you around so you’re facing him, his big hands still on your hips. “Seriously, if anyone tells you your ass isn’t good enough, tell me who it is. I could do the opposite to him or her.”

You burst out laughing despite yourself, shaking your head. “Toji, you’re really annoying.”

“Maybe. But I’m your annoying boyfriend, and your ass is part of the reason I’m here,” he replies with a proud smile. He places a quick kiss on your forehead before walking away to grab his coffee cup.

As he leaves the room, he calls over his shoulder, “And next time you’re in doubt, remember that this is the ass approved by Toji, your wonderful boyfriend. And that’s the best seal of quality.”

You stand there for a moment, an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. Turning back to the mirror, your gaze softens. Maybe he’s right. After all, if Toji, in all his brutal honesty, thinks it’s perfect… maybe you can start to believe him.

Sukuna R.

Sitting in front of your dressing table mirror, a sigh escapes your lips. The dim light in the room seems to amplify everything you hate about your reflection. Your fingers trace a faint scar on your cheek, an indelible reminder of a moment you’d rather forget. You lower your head, biting your bottom lip to hold back the wave of sadness rising within you. The mirror, once again tonight, is your judge, and you feel condemned.

A deep, mocking voice breaks the silence: “Are you going to keep sulking, or do you want me to smash that thing for you?”

Startled, you quickly lift your head. Your eyes meet Sukuna’s piercing gaze as he leans against the doorframe. His arms are crossed, and his teasing smirk makes it clear he’s enjoying your unease.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying to hide your discomfort.

“Me? I was waiting for you, but apparently, this mirror is more interesting than me,” he replies, stepping forward slowly, his imposing presence filling the room.

“It’s not that,” you murmur, averting your gaze. “I… I was just thinking.”

Sukuna stops behind you, leaning slightly to observe your reflection in the mirror. “Sure… You really think I’ll believe that? You look like you’re ready to fight yourself.”

You remain silent, your hands gripping the edge of the mirror. You know he won’t let it go. “I just feel… not good enough,” you finally admit, your voice barely audible.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, his expression hovering between annoyance and curiosity. His large hands settle on your shoulders, their warmth oddly reassuring despite his firm grip.

“Not good enough for what?” he asks, his tone calm but still sharp.

“For everything,” you finally exhale, your breath trembling. “All I see are the imperfections… the scars, the flaws… and I can’t figure out what you see in me.”

A heavy but not uncomfortable silence falls. Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, letting your words linger in the air. Then, slowly, he leans down until his face is level with yours. Your eyes meet his in the mirror.

“Do you want to know what I see?” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. “I see someone strong enough to catch the attention of a king like me. Someone who didn’t run away from my worst sides. Those scars you hate? They’re proof you survived. Those ‘flaws’? They make you real. Unique.”

His fingers gently brush your cheek, tracing the faint scar you were staring at just moments ago. “You think I care about a perfect face? I could have a thousand perfect faces if I wanted. But you, you’re so much more than what you see in this damn mirror.”

Your throat tightens, your eyes burning with emotion. You’re not used to this kind of honesty from him. You turn slightly to look at him, finally letting your guard down.

“You’re rarely this kind, Sukuna. I could get used to it,” you say with a small smile, your voice a little lighter.

“Enjoy it. It doesn’t happen every day,” he replies with a toothy grin, though a soft glimmer lingers in his crimson eyes. “But listen to me: I won’t let anyone, not even you, put down the woman who shares my life. If you start criticizing yourself again, I swear I’ll smash that mirror.”

A light, genuine laugh escapes you. “I believe you would.”

“Of course I would,” he says, standing up straight, his usual arrogance returning. “Now stop wasting your time here. You’re way too beautiful to be sitting in front of a mirror.”

You nod, a comforting warmth replacing the weight you carried just moments ago. Sukuna, in all his bluntness and intensity, had just given you one of the most precious moments you’d ever experienced.

You take his outstretched hand, rising to follow him. Behind you, the mirror reflects the faint smile on your face, and for the first time in a long time, you find it almost beautiful.

Choso K.

The TV is playing a movie in the background, but you’re not really following the story. Slumped on the couch, in shorts and Choso’s t-shirt, you can’t focus on anything other than your thoughts. Choso, calm and relaxed, sits next to you, his arm casually resting on the back of the couch. His presence is soothing, as always, but tonight, you feel too lost in your own thoughts.

You look down at your thighs, slightly exposed by the shorts you’re wearing. They feel wide, too wide, for your taste. A wave of dissatisfaction rises in you, and you adjust your shorts to cover your thighs a little more.

“You’ve been doing this since earlier.” Choso’s soft voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He has turned his head towards you, his deep eyes fixed on you with a usual tenderness.

“Do what?” you ask, even though you know very well what he’s talking about. “Pull on your shorts.” Hide your thighs.” He tilts his head slightly, as if to study you more closely. “What’s wrong?”

You look away, embarrassed. “Nothing. It’s… It’s stupid.”

He shifts slightly, moving closer to you, and places a gentle hand on your thigh, just enough for you to feel its warmth. “If it bothers you, then it’s not stupid. Tell me.”

You sigh, hesitating for a moment before blurting it out. “My thighs. I find them… too big. They make me self-conscious. I know, it’s ridiculous, but I don’t like them right now...”

Choso looks at you for a moment in silence, and you worry that he’ll find your confession absurd. But instead, he slowly slides his hand over your thigh, in a reassuring gesture, and murmurs softly, “They’re perfect.”

You raise an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Perfect? ​​You’re exaggerating.”

He shakes his head, a genuine smile on his lips. “I’m serious. You know, what I like about you is that everything about you seems… real. They’re not ‘too’ big. They’re exactly how they’re supposed to be.”

You blush, touched by his sincerity. “You’re just saying that to please me.”

He lifts his hand to gently brush your face, his gaze fixed on yours. “No, I say that because it’s true. Every time I see you, everything about you seems beautiful. And your thighs?” He pats one of them gently, his smile widening slightly. “They’re the most comfortable place in the world. Do you realize how many times I rest my head on them when we watch a movie?”

You burst out laughing despite yourself, unable to keep a straight face in the face of his soft but teasing tone. “You’re so cute, you know that?”

He shrugs. “If it makes you smile, then that’s fine with me.” Then he gently pulls you against him, wrapping you in a warm and secure embrace. “Stop hurting yourself with thoughts like that. You’re beautiful, always. You’re my wonderful girlfriend.”

You snuggle against him, a peaceful smile on your lips. With Choso, your complex seems less heavy, as if it fades under his sincere love. You love him so much.

Megumi F.

The morning dawned with an almost surreal softness. You stretched under the covers, then went to the bathroom to start your daily routine. But that morning, a small big detail made you jump.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, and your heart grew heavy when you saw several pimples on your face. You bit your lip, annoyed, knowing full well that it would tarnish your mood during the day.

You gently rubbed the skin on your face, trying not to let frustration take over. This kind of morning, you were tired of seeing them appear without warning. With a sigh, you quickly got dressed and left the bathroom. You didn't really want to face Megumi in this state.

You entered the kitchen, where he was already making coffee, as usual. Megumi looked up at you, a calm but attentive gaze that never failed to make you feel special. But that morning, you didn’t feel like you were up to that gaze.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

Megumi said, without even needing to look at you completely, as if he knew exactly what was going on in your head. He knows you so well that it’s scary. His voice, soft but marked by a sincerity that he knew how to bring out well.

You looked down, embarrassed. “But look… at my pimples. They’re everywhere. It’s really ugly, don’t you think?”

Megumi looked at you and approached you. His hands, large but infinitely soft, delicately lifted your chin to force you to look at him. His face remained implacable, but his eyes were full of kindness.

“Do you really think it bothers me?” he asked, his voice cold but looking genuinely interested. “Imperfections are human. What matters is how you feel about yourself.”

You shrugged, your gaze avoiding Megumi’s. You couldn’t understand why these little imperfections made you feel so vulnerable. “I know,” you murmured, “but sometimes, I can’t accept it. And you deserve better than a girlfriend with pimples on her face.”

Megumi stared at you for a long time, then he gave a small smile, softer than anything you had ever seen from him. He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently.

“I’m with you for you, Y/N. Not for your perfect face, but for your heart and soul. And you know that very well. So, don’t worry about it. These little pimples don’t change anything for me.”

You felt a soft warmth spread through you, and a huge weight lift from your shoulders. Megumi, even with his cold nature, always knew exactly how to comfort you.

“Thank you, Megumi,” you said, a shy smile playing on your lips. He gently pulled you towards him, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Always. I’ll remind you every morning, I’ll make it part of my routine.” You chuckled and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, realizing that no matter the imperfections, you had found someone who accepted you as you were, without judgment. You felt completely at peace with yourself.

“Come on. Let’s have breakfast.”

Megumi said, his voice still soft but firm, and he guided you to the table, ready to share a simple breakfast. And this morning, the pimples were nothing more than an insignificant detail compared to the love you had for each other.

Yuji I.

You take one last look in the mirror before leaving the bathroom, your gaze lost on the small stretch marks that mark your skin. For some time, they have been bothering you, but today, it is as if they are more visible than usual. You hate them, these marks. They remind you of times when you felt less beautiful, less up to par.

Suddenly, you hear a noise behind you. Yuji, in an awkward but kind gesture, enters the room, not really realizing your concentration on your reflection. He approaches, his arms wide open, ready to give you a hug.

“Hey babe, why don’t you come give me a hug instead of staring at this mirror?” he says, his voice warm and playful.

You hesitate for a moment, shame pricking you a little. You turn your body slightly, trying to hide your belly.

Yuji, always so attentive when it comes to you, notices your gesture. He approaches slowly, and with his bright smile, he places his hands on your hips.

“You know that you are perfect as you are, right?” He looks at you tenderly. “You are beautiful, you amaze me every moment. And these stretch marks, they represent you. They make you even more you. You are even more magnificent with them so don’t doubt yourself anymore. Okay?”

He pauses then smiles widely, adds: “Besides, I am convinced that if you leave them, they will end up becoming works of art. A bit like me with my scars after all these battles.”

You can’t help but smile when you hear his contagious laughter. Yuji has this talent of transforming awkward moments into bursts of laughter and sincere affection. He hugs you, and you feel the warmth of his support, this security that he offers you without even thinking.

“I love you as you are, with or without stretch marks. They don’t change the beauty I see in you.”

You let yourself go in his arms, your heart soothed, and for once, you no longer worry about your stretch marks. He has this power to make your doubts disappear and make everything so simple.

any opinion is appreciated! thanks for reading till the end 💗

pls note and reblog!

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

© 2025 itelya. All work belongs to @itelya. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

synopsis: you are sick and your loving boyfriend/husband worried about you.

character [separate]: Nanami Kento x reader, Gojo Satoru x reader, Suguru Geto x reader, poor! Toji Fushiguro x reader, Sukuna Ryomen x reader, Choso Kamo x reader.

warning: SFW sweet & fluffy asf, suitable for all genders

words: 2030.

Kento N.

You've been sick for two days after a weekend in the mountains with Nanami. Feeling guilty for exposing you to the cold, he's been trying his best to take care of you, as he knows so well how to do.

"I feel guilty.. because of me that my love is sick." he whispered, his gaze filled with remorse.

You shook your head, the warmth of his gaze comforting you more than the blankets you had on you. "It’s not your fault, Ken, I’m the one who didn’t take care of myself enough. You have nothing to reproach yourself for."

You couldn't help but smile. You kept telling him that it wasn't his fault but yours for not being covered well enough but he wouldn't listen. You see him working with as much attention. He continued to watch over you, bringing more tea, adjusting the blankets around you with almost military precision, and cracking his clumsy jokes, just to see you smile.

You dozed off for a moment, enjoying the warmth he brought, but you woke up quickly when he leaned down gently to place a kiss on your forehead.

"Do you want me to bring you something else, or would you rather just stay here, quiet?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper. You looked at him with a tired but sincere smile. "Just you, Nanami. That’s all I need to feel better."

He smiled, a glint of tenderness in his eyes, and settled down next to you, making sure not to move until you were fully recovered. In moments like these, you knew you were in good hands.

Gojo S.

You sneeze once more. Gojo, who was already looking at you with worried eyes, abruptly gets up from the chair he was sitting in. He takes his phone and dials the number of one of his available doctors.

You're sure of it because you barely started coughing, Gojo wanted to call but you managed to convince him that it will pass. It doesn't end up being the case.

You roll your eyes with a sigh. "Gojo... that's ridiculous. It will pass, it's just a little cough.", he gives you a half-offended, half-stubborn look. "Ridiculous? You're sick, it's a national emergency, baby. Do you want me to wait until it gets worse and you're bedridden for days?"

Before you can even answer, he's already talking to a doctor. "Yes, good evening, Doctor? It's Gojo Satoru. I have an emergency. Yes, it’s serious. My love has been coughing and sneezing for a few hours, and I think it could be… something serious."

You stifle a laugh despite yourself as you hear him exaggerate the situation. "Gojo, it’s not the Black Death either!" He looks at you and signals you to be quiet. "Shh, I’m handling it." Then, he continues with the doctor. "Yes, okay. Very well. I’ll write everything down and we’ll come if necessary. Thank you, Doctor."

As he hangs up, he looks at you with a triumphant smile. "Here, I’ve got it all planned out. Rest, hydration, and a list of medications just in case."

"You know you’re being dramatic, right?", you say, crossing your arms. "Maybe.", he replies, sitting down next to you. "But if it keeps you healthy, I’m willing to be ridiculous."

And despite your initial annoyance, you can’t help but smile. Gojo had this unique way of showing you how much he cared for you, even in times when you would have preferred him to calm down a little.

Geto S.

Lying on the couch, a soft blanket wrapped around you, you tried to fight the fever that had been pinning you there since the day before. Your nose was stuffy, your throat was on fire, and every muscle in your body seemed to scream in pain. All because of that stupid outing in the rain he had insisted on doing.

"It’ll be okay, you’ll see, a little rain never killed anyone," Geto had told you with his mischievous smile, as he led you on an unplanned walk, under a threatening sky.

But now, he was looking at you with remorseful eyes, a tray in his hands, containing hot soup and a glass of water.

"I’m sorry," he whispered for the umpteenth time as he placed the tray on the coffee table.

"You’ve said it ten times already," you replied in a hoarse voice, a slight smile stretching your lips despite the fatigue. “But I forgive you… even if I’m a little angry with you.” He crouched down beside you, his serious gaze fixed on yours.

"You should be very angry with me. I should never have insisted. But now, I’m going to make up for it. You just have to ask, and I’ll take care of it, understood?" You nodded softly, amused by his authoritarian tone that betrayed a great deal of guilt.

"Then stay here. That’s enough for me."

A comfortable silence settled between you. He sat down next to you, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. Then, with a tender gesture, he brushed a lock of hair from your forehead.

Toji F.

You've been sick for a few days now because of a meal Toji made for you with expired leftovers from his fridge (he didn't pay attention to the expiration dates). It was his clumsy way of making you happy for once, but instead, you're sick because of him. Eaten up by guilt, he did everything he could to make it up to you.

To make matters worse, he had wanted to buy you what you needed to heal and comfort you, but he had quickly found himself facing a problem: he didn't have a penny in his pocket. He had ended up asking you for your own card to pay for your medications and your favorite meals.

"I’m so sorry, baby… I’m ashamed, really… I’m not worthy of you," he whispered, his voice almost shaking. You coughed slightly before giving him a reassuring smile. "It’s not your fault, Toji. You deserve me, and you know it. You made a mistake, it happens to everyone."

Toji looks at you silently, hesitant, then he sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. "You say that, but I keep screwing up… I meant well, and look where it got us. You stuck in bed, and me paying with your card when I’m the one who made you sick…"

You reached out a hand to grab his. Despite his clumsiness, you knew his intentions were sincere. "Toji, what matters is that you’re here for me right now. You’re doing your best, and that’s all I ask of you."

He smiled before leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. "You’re such a good for me." With a tired but genuine smile, you replied, "Because I love you, even if you don’t do everything perfectly."

Toji then took a blanket to put it on your shoulders and wrapped you gently. "Now, I'll take care of everything. What do you need? Water? Another herbal tea? Is your pillow well installed?"

You laughed softly, touched by his sudden protectiveness. He was rarely like this even though he loved you. "Toji, calm down, it’s okay. Just sit with me, that’s all I want."

He nods, almost relieved that you’re not asking him for anything more complicated. He sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around you to hold you close. "I promise, I’ll do better next time. But for now, at least let me cherish you as best I can."

Despite your fatigue and your persistent stomach ache, you had found comfort in his arms, feeling all his sincerity in his clumsy but loving gestures.

Sukuna R.

You fell seriously ill because of a servant of Sukuna, who poisoned you with a tea, consumed by jealousy towards your relationship with him. When he found out the truth, his anger was like hell, horrible and without real words to describe. Without the slightest hesitation, he killed her mercilessly.

Sukuna returned to your bedside. Despite his often impassive air and his terrifying reputation, he did not hesitate to take care of you with surprising attention. His hands, so accustomed to killing, were surprisingly delicate in touching you.

“Rest.” he orders, his tone intended to be authoritative, but with a hint of gentleness in it. He has summoned the best healers, demanding that they examine you and treat you immediately. You know he blames himself, even if it’s not his fault.

When they left, he stayed by your side, sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he simply observed you, his dark gaze softened by an almost indecipherable expression. You were so beautiful even when weakened.

“If you would have died because of her, I would have never forgiven myself,” he whispers, his voice low but filled with a weight you’ve never heard before. You crack a weak smile despite your extremely tired and weak state. He was so gentle with you in private, more than he would have liked.

"I'm fine... thanks to you Sukuna. I love you.", he doesn't answer, his voice could become weak in front of you, he doesn't want to. He wants to be strong for you. He stands there, watching over you without a word, as if he refuses to take his eyes off you even for a moment, not letting anyone in.

For the first time, you glimpse a side of Sukuna that perhaps you must have known: a man capable of protecting without hesitation what he considers precious.

"I love you too."

Choso K.

You were lying on the couch, your face pale and your eyes half-closed, a warm blanket wrapped around you. The flu had caught you after her day spent with Choso, accompanying him to a tattoo parlor. You had insisted on coming to support him, but the cold morning air, combined with the hours spent in the poorly heated room, had gotten the better of you.

Choso, who never stopped blaming himself, watches you with a worried expression. He sits down next to you, gently stroking your hair, a tenderness in his gesture that contrasts with his usual air.

"I told you you didn't have to come," he murmured, his eyes filled with guilt. "I could have gone alone." You open your eyes slightly and sketch a tired smile, his voice hoarse but soft. "But I would have missed you, Choso. And besides... you knew I would insist on being there with you, even if it was to get you tattooed for hours."

He breathes, a slight frustration in his voice. "I'm sorry... You shouldn't have been exposed to all that." You shake your head gently, although your weakness doesn't stop you from wanting to reassure him. "It's okay... It's not your fault. I should have covered myself better, that's all."

Choso gets up and goes back to the kitchen, he prepares you a cup of hot tea that he brings to you delicately. He sits down next to you, making sure you were comfortable before handing you the cup.

"Drink this, it should help you a little. And I'm staying to watch over you, you can't refuse." You take the cup with a weak smile and take a few sips, enjoying the warmth that returns to his body. Choso smiled at you and brushed your forehead to check your temperature.

"Okay but if you give me a little tattoo...", she whispered, a playful wink. Choso smiled softly, leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead.

"Maybe next time, when you're in better shape, I promise."

He stayed there, watching over you, ready to do anything to make you feel better. In his eyes, you could see all the sweetness and care he had for her. You knew he would do anything to make you happy.

any opinion is appreciated! thanks for reading till the end 💗

pls note and reblog!

masterlist

requests: OPEN.

© 2025 itelya. All work belongs to @itelya. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

My man( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you 🖤’

valentines with choso <3

wc: 1.5k (i yapped too hard)

cw: kms exaggeration/joke

Choso knew he liked you the moment you walked into class.

He knew he was in love with you the moment you sat beside him. Asked for his name. Got his number. All of that.

Seriously, when was the last time a girl he knew from no where asked him for stuff like this? And a pretty one at that?

He couldn’t help but have you in his mind from time to time. 

And you couldn’t either.

He was, objectively, cute. You loved his hairstyle instantly when you saw it. Spacebuns?! In a university class? Sign me up. 

You soon began loving more parts of him the more time you spent with him. The tattoo on the bridge of his nose? The rough eyebags? You hoped he didn’t catch you staring all the time, because holy this man was hot.

You were intrigued. You wanted to know more about him, so you talked to him.

Was it a talking stage? Or did he think of you guys as just friends? Is it normal to be enjoying someone’s company this much? 

You both had your own friends, and your own social circles. But as you and Choso grew closer, they slowly realized what was going on.

His friends were jealous that he got a girl before them, no matter how many times Choso tried to insist you guys weren’t dating. Your friends were ecstatic over the fact that you finally tried seeking a relationship, no matter how many times you said you guys were “just friends.”

But the teasing of your friends didn’t drive you guys apart. It didn’t make you guys be embarrassed to hang out with the other. It might of even made you like each other more.

So when the chill of fall slowly turned into the biting cold of winter, you found yourself coming over and hanging out at his place a lot, and the same vice versa. 

Watching movies, laughing together. On one occasion, you did Choso’s unique hairstyle for him and you put little stickers and hairclips on him. The picture of him in the cute little get up was secretly your home screen wallpaper. It was too cute, him wearing a scrunched up expression because of the tackiness of the accessories. 

Your friends say that you’re dumb as hell.

His friends say that he’s an idiot.

Just about anyone could see the romantic tension between you two, yet neither you nor Choso would admit it out loud to each other. Left to pine in “secret”. 

₊˚⊹♡

Soon enough, February 14th was getting a little too close, and you were panicking if you should ask Choso out.

That was basically a confession. And you didn’t want to make the first step. What if he thought of you guys as only friends? What if the teasing from his friends were just a joke? 

You spent a lot of the time in your day overthinking. Choso saw during the classes you had together, you always seemed preoccupied with something in your head, and never really looking at him directly in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

Now he was overthinking. Did you not like him anymore?

The class was spent with you two together in silence, staring into the polished wood of the desk, lost in your own thoughts.

Thursday, February 13th felt like you had the most pressure in your life. It felt more than just 4 assignments all due on the same day. It felt more than two tests back to back that you didn’t study for.

You decided that you were going to ask him out. You were going to be brave, say “Do you want to be my valentine?” on text, then power off your phone and bury yourself alive.

A great plan. Foolproof, maybe. 

But what would you do after? If he said yes, you didn’t even have any chocolates or teddy bears to give, and now you just seem like a total loser and a leech. 

But what if he said no? Now, you just lost a valuable friendship and someone who made going through each day just a little easier.

You flopped down onto your bed. It was so tiring, thinking and planning and worrying. 

Yes, you needed to think this through. But now, you should just go to sleep and be indecisive in the morning, and not late at night. That was way more doable than asking someone out.

Choso, on the other hand, was in the same predicament as you.

Same “What if?’s”, same “But’s ” were also plaguing Choso’s brain. But Choso was more prepared. He already had his chocolates, with the same brand you loved. He had his small plushie, which was your favorite animal. It was annoying to get them, as he needed to hide them from his peeking friends and, of course, you.

Yet, he had no plan on how to present them to you, and how to even ask you. Would he just go blunt? No, that will make it seem like he put zero effort into it and just wanted someone with him on Valentines Day. A long, heartfelt message would be too tacky, but it would certainly be romantic, only if you returned the feelings. It would be awfully embarrassing if you didn’t like him in the first place.

He covered his face in his hands. Seriously, why did it have to be so hard?

He should man up, for gods sake. Just ask you and get on with his day, whether or not you said no or yes. Rejection is something everybody should experience. 

But he couldn’t take rejection, especially not from you. He didn’t want to take the risk of losing the friendship that was so precious to both of you guys.

But he bought the chocolates. And he already liked you for about 5 months.

It was now or never.

₊˚⊹♡

Choso was about to kill himself. 

Sorry, exaggeration. He was about to bash his head against the wall.

He sent the text. Dear God, why did he send that? And why did he let it just stay? Why didn’t he just unsend it right away? 

Was it for the hopes that you would actually get to see it? 

Well, now it was too late to go back. The text message is forever engraved into the data of his phone and yours. 

Stupid, stupid text message. Did his fingers have to hit send?

It was supposed to be him practicing sending that. Type out the message, then delete it. Paraphrase his sentences before actually sending it. 

There was no possible way he sent a text message that looked that desperate.

Choso slouched onto his bed and groaned, throwing his phone across his desk.

It had already been 15 minutes. That dragged into another hour. Then two hours. Then it was almost midnight and you still haven’t even opened the message yet.

Choso was panicking internally. You would’ve checked your messages at least once during the four hours that had passed. 

Have you already read the message by looking at the notification? Were you so disgusted by the fact he asked you out that you completely neglected to respond?

His hands were in his hair, pulling at the shoulder-length strands. 

Seriously, how much of a dumbass did he have to be?

He couldn’t sleep much that night. He was half awake, overthinking and looking over to see if his phone screen had lit up. But it was always just a random notification, coming from an app Choso barely used anymore. He sighed and turned his phone off, spending the rest of the night not catching a wink of sleep.

₊˚⊹♡

Luckily for you, he asked first.

And luckily for him, you agreed.

You only saw his message in the morning of Valentines. Of course, you immediately replied yes, saving Choso from spending another sleepless hour after seeing his message get left on delivered.

The few seconds after replying to that message felt a little unreal. You collapsed onto your bed, unable to stop smiling. 

You did it.

You were going on a date with one of the best people you knew. The one you not-so silently chased all these months.

Life was perfect right now. You didn’t want anything to change, not after this one.

₊˚⊹♡

Six PM. Friday. 

To say you were excited wouldn’t be accurate.

Actually, it was more of a jittery nervousness. 

You wondered why, actually. Why were you nervous meeting up with a guy you were friends with for almost this whole year?

He opened the door before you could finish gathering your thoughts. 

You looked up. 

Perfect.

He was perfect, just like how you saw him your first class the day you met. Perfect, with his signature hairstyle, never once changing it. He looked the same as if this was just a regular hangout you guys had almost everyday.

As if it’s anything like that.

You greeted him nervously and stepped inside.

He returned the favor, looking just as bit as awkward as you felt. 

Shit, what if confessing to you made you guys as awkward as strangers now? 

But it didn’t.

The rest of the night went smoothly with him. The one you were half-chasing since the start of the school year. 

You couldn’t be anymore happier. 

And Choso couldn’t either.

a/n

happy valentines day guys!!

got lazy writing the last part

and it got way too long so i had to delete some parts of it

thx for reading sigmas!

dividers by @.enchanthings-a @.saradika-graphics

ch.2- he's so perfect, blah blah blah

You blinked into a familiar ceiling. Where have you last seen this?

The morning light shone through the window, penetrating through the blinds. Its pattern left a soft glow of illumination into the room. It took your eyes a few seconds to finally understand: This was Choso’s apartment, and you were in his guest room. 

How did that happen?

Breathing in a deep breath, you feel that your throat is unusually dry, and your face feels a little sticky. You clear your throat as you slowly sit up, your aching muscles straining to support your weight. When you got up, a headache out of nowhere hit you like a truck.

Pulsing in relentless waves, it attacked your head over and over again, never once settling down. Hands shooting up to your temples, you try to massage your head, and ease the throbbing pain. 

Headache, dry throat, and the sorest muscles ever. Yeah, you definitely got drunk last night. 

Moving your legs off the bed and groaning, you head towards the washroom to try to clean yourself up. You washed your face with hot water, which helped soothing the headache a bit more. You could only wash your face as there wasn't a toothbrush or anything for you to use, so to satisfy your other need, you went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

As you were filling up the glass, you heard some small footsteps, and the creak of a door. Yuji had woken up, and was also going to the bathroom to do his routine. When he opened his door, he saw you in the kitchen. You two exchange a glance while Yuji rubs his eyes to make sure he still isn’t dreaming. 

“Ohh!! It’s you!! My brother’s girl friend!!” Yuji exclaimed, a smile on his face.

“Good morning Yuji,” you reply. “Although, I wouldn’t say girl-friend.” you add nervously while taking a sip of the water.

Yuji, having completely moved on from the topic, asked, “Why are you here in the morning? Aren’t you supposed to be at your house?” 

You took a second to conteplate how to explain to a 9 year old how badly drunk you got last night that his older brother needed to pick you up.

“Uhh, Choso did me a really good favor and picked me up from a place when I couldn’t drive.” you lie, convincing the nine year old. 

“Oh, okay.” Yuji said, accepting the explaination and going on about his morning. You sigh and drink from the glass again. You saw on the couch your phone, wallet, and other neccesities. You walked over to collect them, assuming Choso just put your things on the couch for you.

He’s so nice, you think to yourself, thankful for the little extra he always does for everybody.

As you sit on the couch scrolling through your messages and drinking water at the same time, Choso comes out of his room and sees you already up. 

“Hey, sleep well?” Choso asked when he saw you sitting on the couch. He was still nervous on how to correctly approach you after last night, so he decided he’ll just play it off as nothing and be “nonchalant” about it. 

“Yup!” you replied, smiling. Your brows furrowed a little, still battling the headache.  “Thanks for driving me back too, Cho. Really really appreciate it.” 

“Eh, it was nothing, no big deal,” Choso replied, still being cautious on what he said. He looked at your slightly pained expression, and he thinks that you remembered what happened last night. Oh god- Would it be awkward just talking now? 

“So..uhh..” Choso mumbled. “Are you feeling better now?”

You thought he was mentioning how drunk you were, but he was really trying to ask you about the scene last night. 

“Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better now, I just have a huge headache though,” you sighed.

That wasn’t what I meant. He thought. As in your mood. But he didn’t want to bring it up- what if he was bringing back bad memories? He didn’t want to do that to you. Choso decided it would be worth it to just not mention last night at all and will only elaborate if you brought it up.

But you never did bring it up, being convinced to eat breakfast with him and Yuji.

The whole time, he was scanning your face and expressions to see if you had really forgotten or some part of you still hurt, but you were just hiding it.

Why would you need to hide it in front of me though? Choso thought. 

As you ate a simple breakfast- Toast with butter, you were a little lost in thought, trying to piece together a timeline. Weirdly, you feel like you’ve forgotten something that should be mentioned sometime around… someone… you just couldn’t figure out who.

First, that guy did break up with you. Piece of shit, really. Were you over it? A little, now. Better than yesterday, at least, when you decided just to drink it all away at a bar. Then, you have a vague recollection of texting someone, which you found out to be Choso this morning, and then passing out. 

Sitting there, thinking to yourself, you didn’t notice the person across from you staring at a face he found pretty for a long time. Choso thought you were playing it off as trying not to be a bother- and he was trying to form a plan to talk about it with you a little more. Hesitantly, he tries to start a conversation about the topic.

“Um… about last night…” he murmured unsurely. He looks down, to the side, at your plate, the fork you’re holding, anything but your face. You tilt your head sideways to signify that you’re listening. In your head, you were freaking out a little bit. Did you do something wrong? Did you do something embarrasing? How bad was it that he needed to confront to you about it?

You spoke up before he coud continue. “Oh- oh my god. If it’s anything I did, then I’m so so sorry for it!” you said, sitting up a little straighter.

Choso was lost. He looked at your genuinely clueless expression to confirm is theory.

You had genuinely forgot.

Alarmed by his sudden silence, you tried to clarify once more. “Really! I don’t remember a single thing! What did I do?” you exclaimed, honestly defending yourself. You put your hands up in the air as a gesture of surrender.

Choso, having snapped out from his momentary shock, tried to clear the air again. “Relax, you didn’t do anything…I’m just surprised you forgot, that’s all.” he said. 

He knew you didn’t believe his explaination, but you didn’t question further, which was all he needed to sit down and think about how to approach this. 

Still feeling ashamed, you quickly ate your breakfast and left his apartment in an attempt to avoid staying too long. Before you finish chewing, you get up and say, in a muffled tone, that you're going home. Then you go to the couch and gather your belongings. When you mutter "sorry" to him and Yuji, Choso nods in response and hands you your jacket. You closed the front door after putting on your shoes and shouting "Bye," your cheeks still flushed from the awkwardness.

Choso was still standing in the doorway, surprised on how fast you left. He should say sorry for embarrasing you, he thought. He felt a small nudge on his leg. He looked down as Yuji looked up at Choso and bluntly said, “She’s pretty. Why is she not your girl friend?” in little brother astonishment. Choso’s face reddended as he picked up Yuji and mubmled “That’s enough bro, thanks for your input.” Yuji giggled on Choso’s shoulder, kicking his legs and smiling. He smiled back. All he ever loved was you and Yuji. He wasn’t sure how, but he’ll get through with you one day. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Two weeks later, you had found another date to look forward to, getting over the last one pretty quickly, even if it hurt more than the others. This time, it was someone who looked promising. His name was Toji- someone who you met at online. You were a bit wary of him though, since he seemed like the type to abandon his own son and sell him to a clan who wants to kill him, but you weren’t too sure. That was what first dates were for, to learn more about them, right? 

It was 5pm, and you were starting to get ready to go to the bar where you guys planned to meet up. You hummed to your favorite song playing on a speaker nearby as you did your makeup, feeling just a bit nervous about the upcoming date. Generally, people online didn’t live up to much of your standards. As you were dabbing on blush, the doorbell rang. Curiously, you weren’t expecting anyone here at this time. Putting your brush down, you speed-walked to the door, yelling “Coming!” and looking through the peephole.

To your surprise, you saw an eye staring right back at you.

You inhaled a sharp breath before yanking your eye away from the hole and taking a step back from the door. Until you heard a familiar voice.

“Yuji, stop peeking in from that side. It won’t work,” said Choso.

“But I wanted to see if she was there yet!” Yuji’s voice whined.

Breathing a sigh of relief that it was just Choso and his brother, you unlocked and opened the door, being met with Yuji’s beaming smile and Choso right there with him. 

“Gosh, Yuji! You scared me with your eye!” you said. “Why are you here at my apartment anyway?” 

Choso sighed. “Because-”

“Because the skibidi toilet live stream is happening right now!! And it said to bring a friend for double aura points!!” Yuji continued, eyes sparkling.

You blinked at him once. Twice. Aura points? What’s that? You look up to Choso, silently asking him if what Yuji said was what is actually happening, and Choso just gave it a short nod.

“Umm… sure… You can-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Yuji rushed in, laughing. He quickly turned on the TV and navigated Youtube to pull up the livestream.

You turn your attention back to Choso. He coughs a little in his hand, then explains that that livestream told everyone to bring a friend, and Yuji insisted on going to your home to watch the livestream with him. 

You felt happy that Yuji chose you to be his friend watching with him, but then again, you had to go in around thirty minutes. You looked back at Yuji and then back to Choso.

“Um, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay and watch the whole livestream, Choso. I’m really sorry…” you said, a pit forming in your stomach.

Choso gave you a pointed look. “Another date?” he asked. You nod slowly, feeling regret that you couldn’t stay.

Choso was silent for a few seconds. 

He can stop you now, he thought. Now was a good opportunity to stop you from ruining yourself all over again. He just needed a place where you and him could talk about it without Yuji overhearing. 

Opening his mouth, he says nervously, “Hey, can we talk somewhere?”

Curious, you followed him into your bedroom. You closed the door behind you, and asked, “So what’s up?” 

Choso stood in front of the closed door and took a deep breath.

“Don’t go on that date.”

Immediately, your reaction was a quick “Huh?”. You registered what he said- you just didn’t believe it. 

Choso paused again. “I’m serious, y/n. Don’t go on that date.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer for a second. He had his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor. His position didn’t come off as someone who was sure about what he was going to say, which made you question him even more.

“Why Choso? Do you… know this guy or anything?” you say, unsurely . “Or do you have magic powers and can tell the future?” you joke with a light smile, trying to ease the tension. 

He stayed silent for another second. “Just…don’t,” he reiterated, making you even more confused.

“Why? Should I be worried or anything?” 

Seeing him this unsure made you panic a little. You didn’t understand why he was being so secretive. Or maybe he was waiting for you to figure out the reason yourself?

“Is it because of him? Does he have a bad rep or anything I didn’t hear of?”

“No, I don’t know him. I just don’t want you to go.”

Huh? So what was his reason on why he doesn’t want you to go? Wait, was he saying that he doesn’t want you to go on the date, or he doesn’t want you to go in general, what did he mean?

“Oh, is it because of Yuji’s skibidi thing? Is that why you want me to stay?”

Choso could feel this conversation is going in the wrong direction. He needed to speak his mind- but how? 

“No, no it isn’t about that either… It’s…”

His sudden pause makes you fidgety. What did he have to tell you that was so important? You checked your phone for the time- 5:36. You needed to be going in almost ten minutes, and you still haven’t finished your makeup.

You don’t want to interupt Choso on what he wants to tell you- but what does he need to say that has to take this long for him to think about it?

“It’s what?”

He sighed. Maybe he should just tell his truth and go in blind. He saw you check your phone for the time, he knew you were getting a little impatient. He needed to be quick.

“Look, y/n. I don’t want you to go because… you need to give yourself time to heal before you move on.”

He did it. He said the words. You would have to get it now. By the end of this, you’ll get it. Maybe he’ll finally be able to stop you.

His words stunned you a bit. Heal? Move on? You already did, right? Why was he so concerned over this now? 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask. Truthfully- you knew exactly what he meant, you just needed to confirm it.

Choso hesitates. How is this the best way to put it?

“That last breakup you had, it was really rough, even for you. You know… when you called me to pick you up from the bar, and when you slept over… you sorta…” Choso sucked his teeth in. He wasn’t sure if he should be telling you this, while you were living in blissful ignorance. 

Your mind jumped to a horrible conclusion. If you had forgotten about the whole thing, of course he would feel uncomfortable with you going to meet with another person. 

“I what? Oh my god, Choso, did I do anything? I’m so, so, so sorry if you were uncomfortable, I-”

“No! No, don’t get the wrong idea.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. At least that didn’t happen.

Choso goes on. “It was nothing like that. Um, last time, you came to me really, really upset because of that breakup.”

You thought about his words. It should ring a bell, right? How could you forget about something like that? 

What did you even say though? You had completely forgot about the thing. No recollection at all.

“Choso, I think I completely forgot about that.”

He looks up at you. “I know you did. But I really think it should be unhealthy for you to move on so quickly.”

His words echo in your head. Honestly, they had a truth to it. 

On the second hand, why was he being so protective now?

“Choso, I think I get where you’re coming from, but I still need to go, you know.” You checked the time on your phone again. 5:38. You really, really had to be hurrying up now.

Yuji’s voice called from the living room. “Are you going to watch with me?”

Choso looked back at the door. He didn’t want to leave his little brother hanging, but he didn’t want to leave you again. 

You decided for him.

“I’m sorry Choso, I really am. How about I go on this date and see? Then we’ll talk about it more?”

You were definitely trying your best to compromise, get rid of the conversation, and get out as fast as you can, but Choso had other plans. 

“No,” he said affirmatively. “You need to stay in and let yourself rest.”

Your impatience was really getting a hold of you now. Why was he so insistent? Why couldn’t he just let you go? Was it really a big deal? 

Does he need to do this now? Right now? 

“Choso, I’m fine. Let me go.”

“No.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

You clench your fists a little. You really shouldn’t be wasting time like this. 

“Choso, please. Why are you being so stingy about this? Since when did you start caring?”

“Since you texted me drunk and sobbed into my shoulder!”

The room was silent for a second. Did you really do that?

“I thought, after that, I would try to make and effort to not let you get yourself depressed like that ever again,” he said.

You looked at Choso in the eyes. He was staring right back into you. It all made so much more sense now. You now knew why he was trying to stop you.

But you can’t just bail out like this.

“Choso, I appreciate it. I really do. But please, I need to go to this one. It’s too late to cancel now. I’ll look like a bitch doing so.”

He was about to lose you. He didn’t want to wait another time to stop you. He had you now, why give up? He needed to say something, anything. Anything to give as an excuse. 

He grabs your wrist.

“Y/n…”

“Choso, I actually-”

“Y/n. I don’t want you to go because I love you.”

.

.

.

What?

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

a/n

whats up guys?! welcome to the fic that i thought was a good idea then it wasn't.

hopefully i will finish this though.

why did it take so long?

deco*27 monitoring reference yuji itadori?

originally y/n was gonna blow tf up and be a whole bitch then it felt weird so i had to rewrite the entire last part

when the plot is swiss cheesing.

or am i just reading into this too much?

hello brain rot yuji i love you with all my heart

thank you for reading <3

dividers by @.enchanthings @.adornedwithlight

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series m.list

taglist- open!

hi im screaming and clawing my eyes out

ADMIRING FROM AFAR

pairing : choso kamo x f!reader summary : suddenly the quiet, alternative looking guy catches your eye in class and you're unable to shake the idea of him. from afar, you start to create a fantasy of what he might be like — and eventually your imagination has made up a character you slowly find yourself falling for cw : university au, non-curse/modern au, fluff, pining, pierced and tattooed!choso, smoking, one mention of a party, yuki cameo, terrible ending bc i suck at writing endings, no use of y/n word count : 3.6k

Hallway crush!Choso who didn’t stick out to you until you were halfway through the semester, on a random Tuesday.

The only reason he caught your attention in the first place was because he actually raised his hand to answer the professor’s question, something he had never done before, or since.

His husky, yet surprisingly soft voice, broke the deafening silence that came after the question was asked. Nearly in a trance, your head shot up to get a look of the mysterious guy.

Never had you been more thankful for the mandatory core courses you were forced to sign up for — you would never have encountered him otherwise.

Sitting two rows in front of you and five seats to the left, you weren’t able to get a clear view of the guy. However, what you did see, did not disappoint. Tufts of black hair was tied up in two buns, and silver jewlery decorated his ear. He was wearing all black, shy lines of ink peaking up the neck of his shirt and past his sleeves.

From that moment, you were hooked on the idea of this stranger.

Hallway crush!Choso who you spotted nearly daily now that you were aware of his existence.

You had an assignment due in one week, so you decided to go to the library to actually get some work done for once.

Three hours into your study session, you had to exhale deeply as your motivation was running low. So you let your eyes roam the peaceful scenery of fellow students, some more dutiful than others — when you suddenly spot the mystery guy from class, sitting with three other people.

He looked so casual, leaned back in his chair, arms loosely crossed across his chest as a chuckle played on his lips as a response to something the person sitting next to him said.

Now that you had the opportunity to get a proper look at him, you noticed how extremely good looking he was — the type of breathtakingly handsome that hid in plain sight by how he never tried to stick out whatsoever.

For the next hour, you would subtly shoot glances in his direction. In all honesty, you felt somewhat embarrassed by how you found yourself a little infatuated by a guy you didn’t even know the name of.

All of a sudden he raised from his chair, having you straighten your posture. He pulled his leather jacket over his shoulders, his bag across his chest and put his headset on — with a smile and a nod, he begged his friends goodbye and left.

Hallway crush!Choso who, despite having his small group of friends, tended to stick mostly to himself.

Yeah, he sat with his little crew for a few hours, but he always left before the rest of them. Not to mention you often spotted him walking from one class to another in his lonesome.

On the days the library was absolutely packed, and it was impossible for you and your friends to find any available seats, you would sit down at one of the sofa groups in one of the university’s many long hallways. None of you complained either, as there wasn’t the same pressure to remain quiet.

It just so happened that the man who had captured your interest, walked right past your designated spot at least three times every week.

His headset was on like always, walking with easy determination. He simply seemed to mind his own business as he smoothly made his way through the hallway without bumping into anyone.

Your attraction to the dark and handsome stranger wasn’t as subtle as you first had thought, when it didn’t take your friends more than a day to notice your admiring gazes hanging onto him for the few seconds it took for him to walk by.

“Who’s that?” Your friend asked with a playful lilt to her voice, leaning forward and placing her chin in the palm of her hand.

“Hm? Just someone in my social science class,” you answered nonchalantly with a shrug just as he was out of sight.

“Just someone in your social science class,” she repeated mockingly. “And what’s his name?”

Hot embarrassment raised up your neck, “I don’t know,” your voice weak as their teasing chuckles filled the space.

“So you’re just ogling a stranger, essentially?”

“Shut up, he’s hot,” you fired back as you fell back in your chair, desperately trying to ignore their laughter.

Hallway crush!Choso who only continued to remain a mystery as the weeks went on.

It quickly evolved into somewhat of an inside joke — a game almost, all of you pitching in with silly little ideas of what he might be like.

“He looks like a cat person,” your friend whispered as he walked by.

“Oh, no doubt,” you agreed, eyes glued on his back. “Probably grew up with a family cat that always sleeps at the foot of his bed.”

“You think he greets the cat before his family?” She giggled.

You laughed along as you slowly shook your head no. “Don’t think so. He greets his mom first,” you turned your attention to your notebook, your pen drawing mindless doodles across the pages. “He’s a mama’s boy. But not in a weird way, you know? But in a green flag way.”

They would all laugh along to the daily chatter that filled the group before turning back to their own work, forgetting all about him until he would walk by again.

You, however, couldn’t shake him from your mind quite as easily.

The more they fuelled your fantasy with their fun and innocent ideas of who he might be, you fell deeper into the spiral of your crush.

When left alone with your own mind, your imagination went beyond the small quirks your group came up with — you started to imagine meet-cutes.

What if you “randomly” bumped into him at the little coffee shop just off campus?

What if you were paired up for a group assignment?

What if you ended up next to each other in the kitchen at some random frat party, and the conversation would just flow so naturally?

However, you kept those made up scenarios to yourself, because it was too shameful to admit to your friends that you were slowly falling for the person you had made him out to be — still without a name to put to the face.

Hallway crush!Choso who broke your heart just a little, though totally unaware of the fact.

“I didn’t know your man had a girlfriend.” You shot your friend a confused expression before following her gaze.

That was a first. You had never seen him walking down the hallway accompanied by someone. Let alone a tall, blonde and absolutely gorgeous girl, pure confidence running through every fibre of her body.

After that, you saw just the two of them more often than you liked. And you knew it was absolutely ridiculous to even be bothered by the pair, but you couldn’t control how the lump in your stomach formed at the sight of how well they seemed to fit together.

Her look wasn’t quite as edgy as his, but they definitely had the same vibe. Not to mention they seemed to be close, evident by how she always leaned in and grabbed onto his upper arm when he made her laugh, or how just the two of them would leave their study session in the library to share a cigarette.

You hoped seeing them together would eventually kill the proximity crush your brain had stupidly nourished — it turned out to be the opposite.

Watching him interact with her only granted your imagination new material to build on. Whenever she spoke, he had all his attention directed at her — genuinely listening to every word she said. You watched how he was gentle with her, careful not to be too harsh in his movements whenever he made contact with her.

He just seemed like such a good guy, who made your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him.

Hallway crush!Choso who one day actually did crash into you in the line in the cafeteria.

At first you thought you were dreaming, because the scene played out exactly how you had imagined it so many times in your head.

It was lunchtime, meaning the cafeteria was obviously packed. You were blissfully unaware of his presence behind you, having stayed up a little too late the night before to try to get some understanding of the material you had been assigned.

It wasn’t until a random bystander bullied their way through the crowd in the opposite direction, causing him to stumble forward into you and he quickly uttered a polite apology, that you realised exactly who it was.

Strong hands had grabbed onto your arms to help steady you. When you turned to face him, you wished you were able to utter your own apology — however, the words never made their way past your tongue, too startled at the sudden close interaction.

“People really don’t look where they’re going, huh?” he said, a shy curve to his lips as he let go of you.

“That’s people for you,” you tried to joke once you found your words again.

Your heart was beating a million miles an hour as you watched his eyebrows narrow. “Hey, don’t we have social science together?”

He recognised you.

You cleared your throat and nodded weakly, trying to serve him a sweet smile but you could feel the waver in it.

“I’m Choso, by the way,” he smiled casually, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Once again you tried to smile, but your lips only managed to pull into a thin line as you introduced yourself.

You expected that to be the end of the conversation, that he would pull out his phone in an effort to smoothly round it off without it being too awkward for either of you — but to your surprise, you saw him contemplate his options before opening his mouth again.

“How’s the assignment going?”

“Well,” you started, hoping he didn’t notice the little crack in your voice. “The words are, at the very least, being put on paper, if that tells you anything.”

He chuckled.

You made him chuckle. It was low and coarse, but a chuckle nonetheless. “Sounds familiar.”

He continued to keep the chatter light as you moved along with the queue, completely oblivious of the effect he had on you.

It wasn’t much, but just based on the little interaction, he seemed even more lovely than you had imagined, which only did more damage to your already smitten heart. Because being effortlessly attentive when listening and engaging in the conversation though he didn’t need to, only brought a piece of reality into your fantasy.

Your palms were turning clammy as your heart was pounding against your chest so loud you were sure he heard it. He was, after all, standing closer than one normally would a stranger due to the thick crowd of hungry students surrounding you.

“Well,” he sighed once you’d both paid and stepped into the hallway. “I need to get going. But it was nice to finally meet you for real.”

Finally.

Nice to finally meet you.

“Yeah, you too,” your lips twitching in a smile, heat travelling to wash over your face. You had always thought him to be so incredibly handsome, but you had underestimated how charming his smile was up close.

“I’ll see you around.” The curve of his lips continued to linger as he backed away before he eventually turned his back towards you and removed his headphones from around his neck to put them on.

Hallway crush!Choso who slowly started to gain the title of acquaintance after the reenactment of one of your made up scenarios.

It started very casual — he would greet you with a quiet “good morning” as he walked past you in the auditorium before taking his usual seat two rows in front of you.

“Morning,” you smiled in return while he held your gaze for a little while.

Waking up the days you knew you had class with Choso became a little easier when you knew what friendly routine was waiting for you.

After three weeks of the innocent interaction, he decided to disrupt the comfortable pattern you had fallen into. This Tuesday morning, he didn’t continue walking down the stairs after wishing you a good morning.

No, he stopped dead in his tracks, pointing at the empty seat beside you. “Is this seat taken?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, and shook your head. “No. No, all yours,” you stuttered as you moved your bag for him to sit down.

He uttered a weak “thanks,” and made himself comfortable, pulling out his leather bound notebook and pen.

Hallway crush!Choso who turned out to be a lot funnier than you had first imagined.

Too caught up in the potential romantic gestures that entertained the depths of your mind, you found yourself so giddy whenever he whispered a silly joke during class for your ears only.

Hallway crush!Choso who accompanied you for the few minutes it took for you to walk to your friends after class finished.

“I’m headed in that direction anyways, so I’ll just tag along.” You’d be a fool to decline his offer, cutely biting your bottom lip and clutching your laptop closer to your chest, feeling like a love struck teenager.

When coming around the corner, you avoided looking in the direction of your friends at all costs. You knew you wouldn’t be able to suppress the embarrassment that would flush your face if you witnessed their shocked expressions as a reaction to walking alongside the guy you had fawned over for months.

It wasn’t until he was out of sight that you spun around — sure enough, they all sported exactly the facial expression you had expected, staring wide eyed with their jaws slacked.

“Okay? Something you forgot to tell us, babe?” One of your friends gushed once you had taken your seat. You shrugged innocently, trying not to let all your excitement spill over at once.

“Hope you at least know the name of your stranger now,” the one sitting opposite you teased.

You nodded slowly, “Choso,” you answered simply, enjoying the interrogating looks they were giving you.

“And? Give us the details!” All three of them had pushed their school work aside — this was ten times more important after all.

So you began to explain of the happy accident that had taken place a few weeks ago, and it had eventually ended with the two of you always sitting next to each other during lectures — none of them failed to match your energy.

“Wait, but I thought he had a girlfriend?”

And as easy as that, your girly and romantic fantasy shattered into a million pieces. Guilt was written all over your friend’s face as one could literally see the realisation dawning on you.

Having lived in the pure bliss of your new friendship, you had completely forgotten about the goddess he was so often seen with.

You started to reflect over the fact that you couldn’t remember seeing her in a while, and felt sick that you might have been too wrapped up in Choso that you just hadn’t noticed her recently.

Thus your excitement was short-lived, not ever wanting to be that girl.

Hallway crush!Choso who noticed how your mood was drastically different than normal the next time he met you.

He had looked forward to seeing that sweet smile tug at your lips when he wished you good morning, but instead he was met with a cold “hi”. You didn’t even turn to look at him.

Had he done something to upset you? The last time he saw you, nothing seemed to be off. You were your chipper self, greeting him with a curve to your lips so wide, your eyes would crinkle.

Class started, and you had yet not said another word to him. He shot you a glance, seeing your fingers hurriedly travel across the keyboard of your laptop, and every once in a while letting your eyes flicker up to look at the professor.

Maybe it was just a bad day. Maybe you had an exam in a different course that was causing you unnecessary stress.

Or maybe, god forbid, you’d come to the conclusion that Choso wasn’t someone you wanted to waste your attention on after all.

Hallway crush!Choso who decided to walk you out of the auditorium, despite your cold front trying to push him away.

It was awkward — incredibly awkward, a feeling that really hadn’t been present in the newly blossomed friendship. Still with no words exchanged, you packed your stuff and pulled out your phone.

Once outside of the auditorium, Choso wanted to try and start a conversation to try and disclose whether he’d done something or not. He only managed to catch your eyes when calling your name before a bolting figure came crashing into his side.

“There you are! You’re an impossible man to catch these days,” the girl exclaimed.

Choso saw the discomfort that subtly traveled down your face, awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to another.

“I’ll see you around, Choso,” you said shyly, about to turn around and walk away before the blonde captured your attention.

“Wait, is this the girl you’ve been talking about?” You quickly spun back around, eyebrows pinched together in confusion as the blonde girl had peaked your interest.

Switching your attention to Choso for a second, you noticed how dusty pink had coloured his pale cheeks, his eyes wider than you’d ever seen them.

“It might be,” he said before clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders, hoping you didn’t notice the stress that was residing in his body.

“Finally,” she groaned, her hand shooting forward to initiate a handshake. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while. I’m Yuki.”

You still weren’t able to completely put the pieces together yet, blinking at her as you accepted her hand and introduced yourself.

“Oh, I know,” she mused, flashing you a cheeky grin. “This one right here,” patting a flat hand against his chest, “doesn’t really stop talking about you.”

A shy smile spread across your lips as you quickly shifted your gaze to him. “You’ve been talking about me?” You spoke softly.

“Well-” he stuttered, the pink quickly deepening into red.

A teasing scoff shot past her teeth. “Isn’t he cute when he gets shy,” she said as Choso’s shoulders grew stiff under her embrace. “You have that effect on him.”

When the opportunity to properly observe the dynamic between the pair in front of you, as well as digest the things Yuki was actually telling you, the pieces finally fell into place — they were just friends.

You had worried and spiralled for no reason, having spent the days since you had last seen him to prepare you to distance yourself from him.

But one look at his embarrassed face and tense body as a result of being teased about you, had all the butterflies come swarming back within seconds.

Choso kept most of his attention on Yuki as she went on to ask him what she’d initially come to talk to him about, but he couldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes dart over to you every once in a while.

“My god, you’re my saviour,” Yuki gushed at her friend, tugging playfully at his arm, before turning back toward you. “He’s truly a catch,” she said with a wink as she slowly started to back away. It had you grow a little restless, knowing you would soon find yourself standing alone with him. “Be good to him. And it was great to finally meet you!”

And she was off.

Slowly Choso turned his entire body towards you, his face having done the impossible and gotten even more red.

“What an interesting interaction,” you breathed.

A nervous chuckle slipped out of him in an attempt to remove the immense pressure that was looming over him. “She’s really something.”

“What was that part about me making you shy?” Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I mean-“ he cleared his throat. “I guess you’re seeing it in action right now.”

“Hm,” you said simply, causing him to narrow his eyebrows in response — both in confusion and slight worry.

“Hm what?” Swallowing the lump in his throat.

“It’s cute.”

Then he couldn’t stop smiling.

Boyfriend!Choso who managed to live up to every bit of your love dazed fantasy.

At times, you were scared you had let your fantasy go to far — that in your desperate hope for something more, you had created a character that no living person would ever be able to live up to.

Yet here Choso was, in the flesh, embodying every scenario you had made up when you had been tossing and turning on sleepless nights, and then some.

Small or big, he never disappointed.

He held the door open for you, he remembered your coffee order, he showered you with compliments and admiration.

It didn’t take long for him to learn how you yearned for grand gestures — so Choso made it a mission to fulfill those dreams.

Not only did he succeed, but he excelled well beyond your expectations.

He made sure to take you on dates frequently, but also spontaneously so you wouldn’t see them coming. He managed to make every occasion feel planned and intentional.

Boyfriend!Choso who was absolutely baffled once you told him about how you had admired him so intensely before you ever talked to each other.

The confession caught him completely by surprise, because he couldn’t in his wildest dreams have imagined you even noticed him before the little episode in the cafeteria.

Boyfriend!Choso who despite succeeding in making you his girlfriend, got just as shy about you now as he did then.

tags : @sad-darksoul

an : i hope it's a universal experience to create proximity crush that drives you crazy... dividers by @/strangergraphics comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2025 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

ch.1- don't you dare look at me that way

One shot after the other.

The alcohol leaves a tinge on your throat every time you gulp one down.

A good tinge, maybe. The burn was necessary.

Later, that would go away too. Maybe your feelings could be drowned with them.

You would keep on going until the tears you kept in couldn't be held back anymore.

Another shot. And the other. One more. 

Like a thirsty, dehydrated man finally having the chance to gulp down water.

Couldn’t think- only drink.

Rational thoughts had to be kept at bay. Words in your head couldn’t do- not right now. 

Would you swallow and gulp down your emotions only to have them come back up another time?

Ordering more and more shots until the bartender had to stop serving you.

His words didn’t go through your head, but you could guess.

Sighing and coughing, tears welled up in your eyes.

All you wanted to do was to melt in a puddle and never wake up ever again.

For someone to find you and cup you in their hands and try not to let the water spill through their fingers.

But of course you couldn’t have that—it was your fault again. Again. Was it always your fault now?

Every single relationship, every broken promise, every little chance, all gone. Has it been your fault all this time?

You put your head in your hands and leaned onto the table. You couldn’t stay here in this state mentally now. You needed to go. But who would pick you up?

You racked your mind to try to find somebody who would come over and drive you back, yet you couldn’t think of any, the alcohol interfering with much of your thought process.

Giving up on your memory, you scrolled through your phone contacts to check.

C- CHOSO KAMO

Oh… it’s him… was he the one who broke up with you? You couldn't remember, but you knew you could trust him at your most vulnerable point.

You opened the message chat. 

Relieved that he agreed, you turned your phone off and let your head rest onto the bar table. What you needed to do now was to enjoy the sweet feeling of the alcohol warming your chest and... and...

-

When you woke up, you first didn’t know where you were. As you looked around the dark place, you realized that this was Choso’s living room, and he laid you onto his couch. Feeling grateful that he went through with his promise, you stood up and headed into his kitchen to get a glass of water.

You peeked at the oven clock, 1:43 AM. 

You were asleep for… How long? Maybe three hours? 

Filing through his cabinets, you were thinking about how unfamiliar yet familiar your surroundings were. Having spent so much time here, you were still trying to find where he kept the glasses. Finally having found it, you grabbed one and slowly filled it with water. After filling up two glasses and downing them, you turned off the tap and set the glass down. 

The headache was still there—just not as intense. You headed back to the couch you woke up on and lay down. 

The more time you had doing nothing, the more time you had to think, but you didn’t want to think. It would all circle back to him—the one who ripped your heart out. You feel like it shouldn’t be hard—you feel like it shouldn’t hurt you this much. You’ve been through bad breakups all the time. So why did this one hurt the most?

Was it because you genuinely thought this would go somewhere?

Or were you just hopelessly in love again?

Again, your tears swelled up in your eyes. You couldn’t stay like this forever.

Muffling your cries with a pillow, you turn over on the couch and try to go back to sleep.

But he heard you. Stepping out his bedroom door, Choso pokes his head outside to check the living room. Seeing that you were still awake, he quietly went up to you and tapped you gently on the shoulder.

Startled by his touch, you hiccup and turn around to face Choso with an understanding look. 

Seeing him turned the quiet sobs into loud wails. Finally having someone to rant to, you grabbed onto his sleeve to hold onto him, to know that you wanted him to stay.

He sits down on the couch beside you and offers his shoulder.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Choso couldn’t understand why. 

Why would you always torture yourself like this?

Here you were, crying again on his shoulder after a particularly nasty breakup you had with your nth boyfriend already.

Why couldn’t you just realize that you could end all of this misery just by being with him?

Choso reels back at the thought. He didn’t want to seem obnoxious, thinking that he’s the only good one for you. You’re allowed to live your own life; he didn’t want to control what he felt was the most intimate part of a person’s journey.

He saw you grow up, right alongside him. He saw your old habits, your new ones, and the same laugh he’d loved for what seemed like eons now. 

How your love for drawing when you were young turned into learning how to animate when you were older, how your natural talent in science turned into a major in biochemistry. How your teasing nature turned into the “magical ability to attract losers left and right,” 

But he loved it. He loved every bit of you. Yet, after all these years, he still couldn’t find the words, and he still couldn’t find the courage. So he ends up being forced to watch you pick up a new guy every month, and either you drop them or they drop you. He knows you try to play it off as nothing, but he can see that each breakup really affects your mental health, even if just a bit. You would always just brush it off, “It’s no big deal,” you would say, and it truthfully wasn’t. But it didn’t stop Choso from getting increasingly more worried every broken relationship he watches you get into. A never-ending cycle that just leaves Choso heartbroken every time he sees your heart get broken. He would be lying if he said he didn’t get a twinge of jealousy every time he saw a new guy come over, have drinks, or even sneak off into your room doing god knows what. Each day, he kept himself sane knowing that (or at this point, praying) that it’s going to end in a week or two, that it’s never going to last, and he shouldn’t get too riled up over it.

Yet each time he sees your eyes, genuinely in love, only to be broken and empty by the end of the week, he swears he’ll stop you the next time. He swears he’ll do something to stop your heartbreak. 

Now, you were here, crying over your most recent breakup. He sits there, offering comforting pats to your arm as he wonders where you ever get the strength to bounce back so quickly. 

But he wants it to stop. Not for his sake anymore, but for yours now. 

“Hey, it’s fine; there’s no need to cry anymore,” he whispers, trying to soothe your mood. “He was a complete jerk anyway; it’s going to be alright.” 

You sniffle loudly as you tilt your head to look up at him, only to find a pair of soft eyes looking right back at you. A thought flashes through your mind that only makes you want to sob harder. 

Nobody ever looked at me the way he’s looking at me right now. 

Your past boyfriends never did. Why did you even bother with them again? Ugh, it’s all coming down again, and you have nothing better to do than just wail harder and harder into his shoulder.

“Everything’s gonna be okay… let it all out...” you hear him say. Oh, how much you appreciated him so much for moments like these. His assuring presence always grounds you, no matter how messed up you were now. You loved how he was always there for you. But did you really love him, or his actions? Aren’t you simply just benefiting off of his kindness now?

The night continued as your sniffles finally started to slow down, and your energy finally began to run out, leading you to fall right asleep on his bed. 

Choso didn’t mind. He took some extra blankets and covered your snoozing figure and went to sleep in the guest room, making sure to check that Yuji was asleep and wasn’t woken up. 

As he climbed into the bed, Choso sighed, thinking again about how unfair it was for you to get treated like this all the time. Yet, it was still your life. He didn’t want to interfere or appear too stuck up. He would bide his time. Keep reaching out his hand.

series m.list

next ->

taglist- open!

dividers by @.enchanthings @.adornedwithlight

ᥙᥒrᥱ𝗊ᥙі𝗍ᥱძ, 𝗍ᥱrrі𝖿ᥡіᥒg.

choso has watched you jump from boyfriend to boyfriend, and always noticed that after each one you.. lost yourself a little. having his heart ache for you since childhood, he's determined to make you stop... but reveals his own feelings in the middle.

series m.list

sfw! - angst + fluff

ch.1 - dont you dare look at me that way

ch.2 - he's so perfect, blah blah blah

ch.3 - an arrow through my heart

ch.4 - at least just let me say

ch.5- don't you feel it too?

ch.6- confess i loved you from the start

-epilogue-

m.list dividers by @.enchanthings-a

-> based on the song "from the start" by laufey!

taglist: open!

all works belong to me. do not reupload or translate without permission.

whatthufcuk shO CUTTEE CHOSO BIGSPOON CHOSO BIG SPOON CHOSO BIGSPOON!!!!!

it's a garden life

choso kamo x reader (college au, no curses)

a/n: wrote a lil fluffy domestic choso fic! can't believe i haven't written for choso yet i love him sososososo much he's so cute :3 in my dreams i live in a cute apartment with him. also in my head he studies psych and bio at uni idk why it just makes sense in my head but this isn't relvevant to the plot don't worry this lowkey has no plot LOL

word count: 782 masterlist

contains: established relationship, no curses au, college au, gender neutral reader, choso's style is implied to be alt, choso is cute (as always), kissing, cuddling, reader wears his clothes, choso calls r "baby", idk what else

you love Thursdays, purely for the fact that you never have any classes. it's like a mini mid-week weekend, a break for which you're often very grateful. however, on this particular Thursday, you're kind of bored. not that you didn't have things you could do, but because you'd usually have a lie in with your boyfriend, choso, since he didn't have classes until the afternoon. well, except for today, because he had both morning and afternoon classes, which meant it had just been you in your shared apartment for most of the day. and although he'd smothered you with kisses like he always did before he left, it was hard not to miss his presence.

you'd spent your day doing nothing in particular, just finishing small tasks and completing anything you hadn't yet finished for whichever classes you had the next day. now, it was nearing early evening, and you were lying on the sofa wearing one of choso's many oversized hoodies, half watching reruns of a random sitcom, half wondering when choso would come back. as a myriad of thoughts swirled through your mind, you hear the door click and creak slightly as it opens, the sound making you jump.

"hi baby!" choso calls out brightly from the front door. you can almost perfectly envision his everything he does as he does it - the way he takes his chunky boots off, hangs his jacket up, unties his hair and puts his hair ties on the small table in the hallway. reinvigorated, you leap up, running towards the front door, half sliding through the hallway thanks to your fluffy socks.

"cho!" you exclaim, practically jumping into his arms as you greet him in the corridor, only metres from the front door. he squeezes you, holding you tight. "you're back early?" you question, tangling your fingers in the long, soft strands of his hair as he presses soft kisses to your neck and shoulder. he laughs warmly, and the sound vibrates, washing over you like the comfort of a weighted blanket.

"i missed you. so i found a way to leave class early." he says honestly, slipping his hand into yours.

you laugh. "as much as i love that you did that, please tell me you didn't get into any trouble." you say, a teasing lilt to your voice.

"no, i, uh... i told the professor i was ill. i'm surprised he bought it, to be honest." he says, slight embarrassment flashing across his face for a moment. he looks down, his cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pale pink. it's certainly not the worst thing in the world, but choso's never done something like that, and he feels a little silly about it until you push the thoughts out of his mind with a kiss.

he kisses you back softly, trailing one hand to your waist while the other finds yours, and he swears he can feel all of his worries melt away from the feeling of your lips on his. he backs you into the wall, sliding his hand up from your waist to rest behind your head to ensure you don't hurt yourself. your heart swells at the gesture, and you grip his hand a little tighter before pulling away. you're met with the sight of choso breathing heavily, lips a little redder than before as he smiles at you, starry-eyed.

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "i'm going to change, then i'll join you in the living room, yeah?" he asks, and you nod in confirmation. you peck his cheek, and he smiles before heading off into the bedroom. meanwhile, you reassume your position on the sofa, grabbing choso's favourite blanket before sinking into the pillows. as you flick through the channels to find some kind of background noise, eventually settling on a rerun of the same sitcom as before, choso enters the room clad in some dark grey sweatpants and an old baggy band t-shirt. you make a mental note to yourself to steal that from him at some point.

choso flops down on the sofa, half smothering you in the best way. you laugh as he wriggles around, trying to reposition himself. eventually, he takes what one could only describe as his rightful place, as the big spoon. he makes sure the blanket is over both of you before he slides his arms around you and pulls you in against his body, nuzzling his head into your neck.

"i don't wanna move. ever." he murmurs, wrapping his legs around you, clinging to you like a koala.

"who says we have to?" you say, half rhetorically.

so you don't. why would you want to, anyways?

"Thirty More Minutes..."

a/n: this is my first drabble/fic (?) im a little scared but we ball so... hope you enjoy

p.s: the smut felt so stiff so I got rid of it T_T

“Babe.” 

“Thirty more minutes.”

And yeah, you would've been fine with ‘thirty more minutes’ if this hadn't been the fourth time Choso had said it.

You loved Choso with all your heart, but god you wished you had never bought him this new gaming setup.

At first it was nice, Choso was loving up on you more than he usually did (if that's even possible) in the first week of him receiving his gift but after that it just went…downhill.

It started off with him staying up later into the night, and then it became you waking up to him not even in your shared bed.

You were getting ticked off. You can't even remember the last time the both of you had even had a semblance to a make-out session. Nothing.

“Choso.” You said slowly but loud enough for him to hear through his headphones.

Without even looking up from his game he swiftly slid one earphone behind his ear and sat up slightly, “Huh?” He hummed out, faint clicking from his mouse could be heard as well.

“I want you to get off the game soon, please?” You said with a slight whine beginning to arise in your tone.

He cleaned his throat before mumbling something along the lines of “Be right back…” into his mic before letting out a sigh and swiveling his chair around to face you.

“M’ sorry baby, just been playing around with Satoru and the rest of them.” He mumbled before taking the opportunity to stretch in his chair with a deep groan.

Your lips quirked up slightly in the newfound attention you've received, “Come give me a kiss right quick?” You asked sweetly with a sly undertone.

He nodded in approval before getting up and leaning in, planning to give you a small peck before heading back to his game. Planning.

Before he could pull back you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss with a content moan.

Choso’s brows raised before he smiled slightly into the kiss and placed his hands on both sides of your body on the bed.

“Baby”,  kiss , “Thirty more”, kiss ,”Minutes.” He stated in between your peppered kisses.

You stubbornly shook your head and placed your hands on both sides of his jaw, “You've been saying that all day. Let me have this.” You said softly with furrowed brows.

His face softened before he let out a small laugh, “I know… but just one more ga-” Choso was cut off by your swift movement to resume your make-out session, this time sticking your tongue out and brushing it against his lips, as if you were silently asking him to open up.

He let out a muffled moan before sighing slightly and leaning into the kiss, opening his mouth and proceeding to suck on your tongue.

You let out soft moan and wrapped your arms around his neck happily, your breathing getting heavier.

He let out a quiet groan before pulling back, “Okay just -” He turned back to look back at his monitor.

“Mm…I’ll call it a night…” He murmured quietly before planting a gentle kiss on your forehead and getting up.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him walk over to his pc and shutting it off; a sly grin beginning to grace your face.

Finally.

an imperial command a knight!choso fic

pairing ⸺ knight/warrior!choso x princess!reader

summary ⸺ you, the princess of the nation, and choso, the son of your father's most trusted general, have been inseperable since birth. but after many deem it inappropriate for him to be so close to you, the distance between you and him only deepens after he leaves for war. when he comes back older and a more handsome, bigger version of the choso of your childhood, you both grapple with love, duty, and test the bounds of propierty.

warnings ⸺ smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, reader has a vagina, classism? not really, reader may seem pushy at times, not edited, very sweet love confession, happy ending, fingering, breast worship, virgin reader, mutual loss of virginity, mentions of sexism and archaic beliefs about virginity, pathetic choso, soft dom choso, p i v sex, gentle choso :(, me being really horny about his HAPPY TRAIL

a/n it's something about a hot decorated warrior that crumbles at the thought of you...

general masterlist

You and Choso had been inseparable since birth.

As the princess of the realm and the son of the general—your father’s most trusted advisor and sworn brother—it seemed ordained by fate itself that you should become steadfast companions. And companions you were; as babes, you darted through the royal gardens, frolicked in the halls of the palace, and devised schemes to escape the ever-watchful eyes of your tutors. Only the constraints of your education would separate you. You were confined to lessons in the classical tongues, the harp, and courtly diplomacy, while Choso immersed himself in the arts of the sword, the strategies of war, and the unyielding discipline of a soldier.

“Choso!” you squealed, your laughter ringing through the royal gardens as you fled from an imagined dragon. You ran toward him, your skirts billowing behind you, and found him poised and ready. His knees were bent, his gaze unwavering, and his small wooden sword clutched tightly in his hands. He glared past you at the phantom threat with the solemnity of a true knight.

“I will save you, Your Highness!” he roared and lunged, hacking away at the demon passionately. You cheered him on, giggling at his act.

“You’ve done it!” you cheered, clapping your hands in delight. But then your eyes widened in feigned terror. “Look, another one approaches!”

Choso spun around at your warning, his attention diverted just as you had planned. Seizing the moment, you imagined the dreadful beast closing in on his unguarded back.

“Watch out!” you exclaimed, grabbing a fallen branch to defend him. With a bold leap, you placed yourself between Choso and the imagined peril, brandishing your twig as though it were a knight’s blade.

“I’ve got you!” you declared, laughing as you swung your newfound weapon, the pair of you lost in the unrestrained joy of childhood.

Of course, while the king, your father, appreciated you so closely acquainted with his general’s son, your mother did not seem to think it wise that you become estranged from the daughters of nobles; after all, you would need to forge relationships early on to strengthen your future court. This led to many a playdates being interrupted.

“You didn’t need to save me!” Choso whined, pouting while crossing his arms. 

However, you held out a pudgy hand, patting his hair as if to soothe him. “It’s okay, Choso. If you ever need saving, I’ll always be there—” “YOUR HIGHNESS!” You heard footsteps running towards where the both of you were sitting idly. When parrying the imaginary monster’s attacks, you had tumbled on top of Choso, your dress and limbs entangled with his and both of your hair unruly. Hearing your governess’ voice led you to pout, for you were sure to earn a scolding for fooling around with Choso rather than practicing the violin for the nth time. Alas, you couldn’t escape her—as well as Choso’s nannies, who had appeared—and you both looked sheepishly at their horrified faces.  

Frowning, Choso’s nanny stomped towards the both of you, untangling you both impatiently and, once you were both standing, giving Choso a light smack on his head while bowing towards you. “Your Highness, I apologize, but the both of you mustn’t do such things anymore. You both are far past the age that this is appropriate.”

“What?” You pouted, disappointed in having to back to your room, confined to practice your violin with those dreadful, boring tunes. “What isn’t appropriate about this? We’re just playing—”

“Your Highness,” your governess began, her strained smile barely masking her displeasure. “It is not fitting for a princess to engage in such… undignified behavior. You must remember your station. A young lady of your rank is expected to conduct herself with grace and decorum at all times.”

Choso’s nanny, now tidying his tousled hair with brisk, efficient motions, added in a sharper tone, “And you, young master, should remember your place. You are not her equal but her servant’s son. Such familiarity is unbecoming.”

At her words, Choso’s face turned pale, his gaze dropping to the ground. His hands clenched into small fists at his sides, but he said nothing, his lips pressed tightly together. You could see the effort it took him to remain still, his shoulders stiff with tension.

“Choso?” you called softly, tilting your head to catch his eye. 

However, he did not look up, though his voice came, quiet and steady. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I… I won’t do it again.”

Your brows furrowed, your chest tightening at the sight of his downcast expression. “What are you apologizing for?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended. “You’ve done nothing wrong! We were only playing.”

“Your Highness!” your governess interjected, her tone scandalized. “Such defiance is unbecoming. You must understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” you snapped, cutting her off. “I understand that I don’t care for these rules. Choso is my friend, and I decide what is and isn’t proper!”

Choso’s nanny inhaled sharply, but he quickly stepped forward, shaking his head fervently. “Please, Your Highness,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “Don’t… don’t say such things for me. I’ll… I’ll do as I’m told. I promise.”

“Choso!” you exclaim, betrayed as the sting of his words settling in your chest. His gaze still refused to meet yours, fixed instead on the ground between you.

Your governess, sensing her victory, straightened. “Your Highness, you must return to your chambers immediately. Your music tutor is waiting. And as for you, Master Choso, your training will resume at once. I trust there will be no further disruptions.”

Neither of you spoke as the governess and the nanny ushered you away in opposite directions, their sharp voices ringing in your ears. Yet, as you glanced over your shoulder, you caught one last fleeting glimpse of Choso, his hesitant gaze finally meeting yours for the briefest of moments. It held a quiet resolve that only deepened your frustration.

“Wait and see,” you muttered under your breath as you were dragged back toward your chambers. “I’ll change this someday.”

That was the last time he ever spoke your name aloud; now, you were only Your Highness and The Royal Princess. It irritated you to no end; you were his friend, not his superior. But he insisted, falling deeper and deeper into the depths of social proprietary and hierarchy his nannies and parents were no doubt pressuring him into. You could only take what you had; if he was refusing your affection, he would at least not refuse royal commands of rendezvous.

Years had gracefully unfolded since that day, and now, as teenagers, your clandestine meetings in the royal gardens had blossomed into cherished rituals beneath the cloak of night. The gardens, adorned with that glowed under the moon's gentle gaze, became the sanctuary where you and Choso could momentarily escape the rigid expectations of courtly life.

As you approached the secluded alcove near the ancient marble fountain, your heart fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement. 

And there he was.

Choso waited beneath the willow tree, his dark eyes darting between the swaying branches and the dimly lit path beyond. The shadows stretched long in the garden, and the faint sound of patrolling guards put a furrow in his brow. He shifted on his feet, arms crossed tightly as though bracing himself for some reprimand.

When you finally appeared, dressed in your lighter night robes, he let out a small breath of relief. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t—”

“Can you stop that?” You whine, brushing him off and making a move to sit in the swing right by the tree. You lightly swing your feet, establishing a gentle rhythm while you grin mischievously at him, meeting your lighthearted eyes with his furrowed, slightly worried ones. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Choso. No one’s going to catch us.”

He can only shake his head, for after years of friendship had led him to know one universal truth: if there was one thing, it was that your mind, once resolute, could not be changed. “I don’t know how you keep wanting to risk them discovering this.” Then, he sighs, lamenting weakly, “and why I have to dragged into this.”

You flash him an innocent smile, about to give a cocky response about how you’re the princess and it’s not like Choso doesn’t want this…right? but both of you pause, deadly still, when you hear the undeniable clinks of armor.

Patrolling guards.

Choso’s head snapped toward the sound, his body going rigid. It kind of dazes you, in a way, how his curriculum as a warrior leads him to be so alert. It’s also this moment that you realize how grown you both are becoming; it feels as if you’re stuck as a dainty princess, while he’s steadily growing taller and bigger, a smaller picture of his formidable father.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

You froze, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with him before instinctively ducking behind the grand marble fountain. The cold stone pressed against your back as the guards’ footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the bobbing light of their lanterns.

“Who’s there?” one of them called out, his voice sharp and commanding.

Choso shifted beside you, his breath quick and shallow. Your hand brushed against his arm in reassurance, but it did little to ease the tension radiating off him. The guards’ lanterns swept methodically across the gardens, their shadows flickering on the trees.

“Stay still,” Choso mouthed, his dark eyes fixed on the approaching light.

The guards drew closer, their boots crunching against the gravel path. You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, each second dragging on unbearably.

Then, a faint rustle to your left—a squirrel darting across the underbrush. The guards turned toward the noise, their lanterns swinging wide.

“Must’ve been an animal,” one muttered, though he sounded unconvinced.

“Keep looking,” the other replied gruffly. “The king’s orders were clear—no one’s to linger in the gardens after dark.”

The pair continued past, their voices fading as they moved toward the far side of the grounds.

You let out a shaky breath, but before you could fully relax, Choso grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. “We need to go deeper,” he said urgently, his voice low.

Without waiting for your agreement, he led you away from the fountain, weaving through the hedges and into the denser parts of the forest. The shadows thickened as the soft glow of the garden lanterns disappeared behind you. Branches brushed against your arms, and the earthy scent of moss and damp leaves filled the air as you ran.

“Choso!” you whispered breathlessly, struggling to keep up with his longer strides. “They’re gone!”

“Not far enough,” he replied, glancing back at you. “We can’t risk them doubling back.”

The forest grew darker the deeper you went, the canopy above blocking out most of the moonlight. Finally, when the sound of your own breathing seemed louder than anything else, Choso slowed to a halt beneath a towering oak.

“We should be safe here,” he murmured, releasing your hand.

You both sank to the ground, the soft carpet of moss cushioning your fall. For a moment, neither of you spoke, too winded to do anything but sit there, catching your breath. Then, a stifled giggle bubbled out of you, unable to contain the absurdity of the chase.

Choso shot you a warning look, but his resolve cracked when you pressed your hands over your mouth, failing to muffle your laughter. A small laugh escaped him in turn, and soon you were both doubled over, trying in vain to quiet yourselves.

“Shhh!” Choso whispered, though he was grinning. “You’ll get us caught.”

“You’re the loud one,” you whispered back, nudging him playfully.

Soon, the laughter slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of rustling leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. Choso leaned back against the tree, his expression softening as he glanced up at the canopy. His eyes caught on something above, and he pointed. “Look—fruit.”

Following his gaze, you spotted the cluster of small, round pomengrenates hanging from a low branch. Choso stood, brushing dirt from his trousers, and reached up to pluck one. He examined it briefly before biting into it, his movements unhurried and deliberate.

“Are you just going to eat that without offering me one?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He smirked, holding another pomengrenate aloft. “You want it?”

“Obviously.”

But instead of handing it over, Choso lifted it above his head, his smirk widening. “Come and get it.” You stood up, moving closer to him to make a motion to grab the fruit. Alas, the effort was not fruitful. 

“Choso!” you hissed, glaring at him as he kept the fruit just out of reach. You try many things: you grab his shoulder, tickle him on his stomach, and arms. However, it all is in vain.

“You’re the one who wants it,” he said, his head peering down at you in amusement.

You stood, determination written all over your face. “Fine. If you think I can’t—”

You leapt, swatting at his hand, but he easily moved the fruit higher, his height giving him the upper hand.

“You’re insufferable!” you said, laughing despite yourself as you tried again, this time jumping with more force. Still, you missed.

“Perhaps you should’ve been born taller,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Or perhaps you should stop being such a—” Before you could finish, he lowered the fruit suddenly, pressing it into your hand.

“There,” he said, smirking. “Satisfied?”

You took a triumphant bite, your glare softening into a grin. “For now.”

Settling back down, you both shared the fruit in companionable silence, the earlier tension of the night dissipating in the quiet forest. Yet, as you sat side by side, something about the way his gaze lingered on you—or perhaps the warmth blooming in your chest—made you wonder if these late-night meetings were becoming something more.

And then, years later, he left for war. Choso left for the battlefield, summoned to serve alongside his father as the general’s son. 

The morning he departed was etched into your memory with painful clarity. The air was crisp, the kind that stung your lungs when you breathed too deeply, and the courtyard was alive with the sounds of preparation. Soldiers moved with purpose, their boots striking against the cobblestones in rhythmic determination. Horses snorted and pawed at the ground, their breaths rising like smoke in the cold air.

You stood at the edge of it all, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, trying to keep your expression composed. This was no place for a princess to display her feelings, no matter how tightly they knotted in her chest. Your father was nearby, speaking with the general in low, serious tones, his gaze sweeping over the troops with pride. Your mother was absent, as always, too preoccupied with courtly matters to concern herself with the departure of soldiers—even one who had once been your constant companion.

When Choso emerged from the crowd, his figure clad in the red, utilitarian uniform of a soldier, it was as though the rest of the scene blurred. The boy who had once darted through the gardens with you, his hair wild and his hands dirtied by mischief, now looked every inch the man his father had raised him to be. His hair was tied back, his face set in an unreadable mask of calm, and he carried himself with a solemnity that felt foreign.

He always did make you feel like a child. While you were still delaying acceptance of your fate as the princes—future queen—-he had grown into a man, fated to be a war general. 

He approached slowly, each step deliberate. When he stopped before you, he did not smile. Instead, he bowed low, his dark eyes briefly meeting yours. “Your Highness—”

But you had enough of that godforsaken title. “Why must you leave?” You cried, your voice breaking as Choso stood before you in the courtyard.

The image of the steeled soldier crumbled as his eyes softened in fondness and melancholy. “You know I must.”

You shook your head fervently, as if to vehemently deny what was undeniably the truth. “You know that’s not true.” And it wasn’t, for it would only take an imperial command of yours to bar him from ever entering the battlefield.

But it was his dream; you saw the way he looked at his father. To deny Choso the sword and the glory he was destined for was to chain him down, and you knew that. So instead, you shook off the idea, then blurted, “You’ll write to me, won’t you?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with expectation. He hesitated, a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before it smoothed back into neutrality. “If time allows.”

That was all he offered. No promises. No reassurances. Just a vague, distant answer that left your heart sinking.

Outraged, and a bit petulant, you exclaimed. “What do you mean if time allows? Will you be so busy that you won’t have time? Are you not at least going to grant me some peace of mi—what is that?”

In the corner of your eye, you see something in his hand catch the sunlight, and glimmer. He hesitates, his hand clenching before inevitably opening his palm. A timid, “For you, Your Highness.”

An instinctual don’t call me that dies out in your throat as he shows you what he was hiding. In it he uncovers a small, delicate object—a pin shaped like a blooming flower, its petals carved with meticulous detail and painted in hues of white and gold.

You stared at it, your hands trembling as you took it from him. “What is this for?”

“It’s a symbol,” he explained, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Of where I’ll always be, even if I’m not here. Keep it with you, and you’ll know that... that I’ll do everything I can to return.”

“Oh, Choso.” Your bottom lip trembled as tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your fingers closed around the pin, the intricate craftsmanship biting into your palm. Somehow, the weight of it felt heavier than it should’ve been. “I don’t want a pin, Choso,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I want you to stay.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might reach out to you. But then he stilled, the rigidity in his posture a clear reminder of the boundaries he refused to cross.

Even so, you didn’t want to seem ungrateful. The gift, despite your pain, was beautiful, and its meaning wasn’t lost on you. You sniffled, brushing a tear from your cheek with a trembling hand. “But it is beautiful, regardless,” you murmured, holding it up to the light. The golden edges of the petals gleamed softly, like sunlight captured in metal. “Put it in my hair?”

Choso blinked, caught off guard by the request. His gaze flickered between you and the pin, uncertainty etched into his features. “Your Highness, I—”

“Please,” you interrupted gently, tilting your head slightly toward him. “Just this once.”

He hesitated for a long moment, his fingers flexing at his sides as though he were battling some internal conflict. Finally, with a barely audible sigh, he reached out and took the pin from your hand.

You held your breath as he stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. His hand brushed against your hair and your neck as he carefully gathered a small section, his touch warm and deliberate. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips, earned from countless hours of swordsmanship, yet his movements were painstakingly gentle.

“There,” he said softly, stepping back to examine his work. His gaze lingered on you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his formal mask cracked ever so slightly. There was something in his eyes—something raw and unspoken—that made your chest tighten.

You reached up instinctively, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the pin now nestled securely in your hair. “How does it look?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the lump in your throat made it difficult.

Choso’s lips parted, but no words came. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting away as if he couldn’t bear to look at you any longer. “It’s beautiful,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The horn sounded again, louder this time, breaking the fragile moment between you. Choso stepped back, the walls of propriety rising between you once more.

“Thank you,” you managed, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

He bowed deeply, avoiding your eyes. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the faint scent of earth and steel, the pin in your hair a bittersweet reminder of the distance that now separated you.

For weeks after, you found yourself restless, wandering the garden paths where you had once talked and laughed together. You scribbled letter after letter, pouring out questions and updates, recounting bits of palace gossip and even sending sketches of the places you’d been. But no reply ever came.

At first, you tried to excuse it—surely, he was too busy, too occupied with the rigors of war to respond. Still, you kept writing, sending your letters to the front lines with the faint hope that one day, you’d receive one in return.

“Any news of the general’s son?” you would ask your father over dinner, feigning casual interest.

“He’s doing well,” your father would reply, distractedly cutting into his meal. “His tactics in the northern campaign have earned him commendation. A fine young soldier.”

You pressed further, ignoring the disapproving look your mother shot you. “And... is he safe?”

Your father raised a brow but indulged you. “Of course. The reports say he’s advancing quickly through the ranks. A promotion to captain is already under consideration.”

Your chest swelled with pride at the thought, but it was quickly eclipsed by frustration. If he was receiving such accolades, surely he could find the time to write a simple letter?

“Why do you trouble your father with such questions?” your mother chided later, her tone clipped. “The general’s son is serving the nation. You should focus on more important matters, like preparing for your duties.”

But your concern for Choso only grew. Whenever news from the front lines arrived, you would listen intently, hoping to hear his name mentioned. When you did, it brought a fleeting sense of relief, but it never lasted long.

The silence from him felt heavier with each passing month. You couldn’t understand it—how could someone who had once been your closest companion, who had sworn to always protect you, sever that bond so easily?

And yet, you never stopped writing. Each letter was folded with care, sealed with your personal wax stamp, and sent off with the same unwavering hope. Even if he didn’t reply, even if you didn’t understand why, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

The city was alive with celebration, a symphony of cheers, music, and the occasional crackle of fireworks that lit up the night sky. The soldiers had finally come home after a long winded war, and you just couldn’t miss out on the excitement. After Choso’s departure, you had grown. Before you were a gangly teenager, but now you were a young woman. With this came you forming your own opinion, independent of our parents, and had developed a habit of frequently sneaking out of the palace.

You couldn’t bear to stay confined to the palace, not when the air was thick with excitement and the news of the army’s triumphant return had set the entire city alight. The soldiers, clad in polished armor that gleamed even in the dim light, strode through the streets in small groups while the people cheered on the sidelines. They carried themselves with the confidence of men who had seen battle and emerged victorious.

Young ladies lingered at the edges of the crowd, their eyes alight with hope as they watched the soldiers pass. Some called out to them, their voices playful and lilting, while others merely smiled shyly, clutching kerchiefs or flowers they clearly longed to offer. The soldiers, for the most part, maintained a stoic demeanor, though a few exchanged grins or nodded in acknowledgment, their faces betraying a mix of pride and exhaustion.

Children darted between legs, waving tiny flags and shouting in delight, while their parents looked on with a mix of relief and gratitude. The scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced wine wafted through the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the soldiers’ armor. It was a night of unity, of celebration, where the lines between commoner and noble blurred in the shared joy of victory.

Draped in a simple cloak to conceal your identity, you slipped past the guards at the palace gates, your heart pounding with both exhilaration and trepidation. The anonymity of the cloak felt liberating as you merged with the crowd, the world suddenly vast and unguarded in a way it never was within the palace walls.

Laughter surrounded you, the contagious energy of the revelry lifting your spirits as you wandered farther from the familiar confines of royal life. You paused to admire a street performer juggling flaming torches, your cloak billowing slightly in the breeze. But before you could move on, a sudden gust snatched the handkerchief tucked into your cloak.

You gasped, your fingers grasping for it, but the delicate fabric was already airborne, dancing above the heads of the crowd. You watched helplessly as it soared higher, carried by the playful wind. Instinctively, you gave chase, weaving through the throng of revelers as your heart raced with the thrill of pursuit.

The handkerchief drifted out of sight, disappearing beyond the swell of people. Your steps faltered, and you stood on tiptoe, scanning the crowd in vain. It was only then that a firm hand shot up above the sea of heads, catching the fluttering fabric mid-air. The sight of your handkerchief, caught in a strong, gloved grip, sent a jolt through you.

Your gaze traveled upward, and there he stood—a figure that was at once familiar and startlingly different. His broad shoulders and proud stance were unmistakable even before he turned, his dark eyes locking with yours.

“Your Highness?” His voice was deep, steady, and entirely too familiar. Then, his eyes went to your hair—you, still wearing the hairpin he gave you that day—and they filled with a conflicted, longing sort of expression.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you froze. He looked so much…bigger. He always had muscles due to his frequent physical lessons, but he was so much taller now, his face a lot more sculpted. Before you could interpret what the lurching in your heart meant, he took a step towards you. But before he could take another step toward you, you turned and ran instinctively, the sound of his voice chasing you as surely as his footsteps.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! If Choso knew you had sneaked out, he would send you right back, citing useless things about duty and protecting you. While your traitorous heart started beating faster as soon as you saw him—different, but still undeniably Choso—you knew your liberty was at an end if he sent you home and informed your parents of what you did.

You bolted as fast as you could, your cloak billowing behind you as you darted into a narrow alley. Footsteps echoed against the cobblestones, heavy and deliberate, chasing you down. You reached the end of the alley and stopped, your chest heaving, unsure whether to keep running or face him.

“Your Highness,” the voice came again, closer this time.

You spun around, and there he was. Choso. But he wasn’t the boy you remembered—he was a man now. Broad shoulders filled out his uniform, the insignia of his rank glinting on his chest. His hair was tied back, revealing a face hardened by battle and time. Yet his eyes, dark and intense, still held the same quiet depth you’d known as children.

He dropped to one knee, his hand over his heart. “Your Highness.”

You gaped at his display. Since when did he start kneeling? “What are you doing?”

His voice came out, devoid of the warmth you had once known. “It’s protocol, Your Highness.” His head remained bowed, his knee pressed to the uneven cobblestones, the hand holding your handkerchief resting against his heart.

But you were in denial, scrambling to pull him up by his arms. It was futile; he was way stronger than you, and at your touch, he jumped back, as if stung. Wounded, you urged him. “Get up,” you stepped closer, “Choso, it’s me. You don’t need to—”

“I must, Your Highness.” His tone was calm but resolute, his gaze fixed on the ground. “Unless you are issuing an imperial command, I have no choice but to honor the rules set forth by your station.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “An imperial command?” The words tasted bitter on your tongue. You didn’t want commands; you wanted familiarity, the easy camaraderie you once shared.

“Yes, Your Highness.” He finally lifted his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “If you do not wish me to kneel, then say it as such. Otherwise…” He lowered his head again. “This is my place.”

“Your place?” You felt a flicker of anger rise in your chest. “Choso, your place is by my side, as it always has been! Don’t—don’t treat me like some distant monarch.”

His shoulders tensed, and you thought you caught a flash of something—guilt, perhaps?—in the way his fingers tightened around the handkerchief. But still, he didn’t move.

Frustrated, you stepped even closer, your voice rising despite your efforts to remain calm. “Get up,” you said, reaching out and tugging at his arm. “I said, get up!”

“I cannot,” he said softly, the words cutting through your frustration like a blade. “Not unless you order it as my superior.”

You stared at him, a mix of hurt and disbelief swirling in your chest. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “If that’s what it takes, then I command you—get up, Choso. I command you to stand!”

For a moment, the tension lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. Slowly, reluctantly, he rose to his feet, towering over you with a presence that felt both familiar and foreign.

But as you looked up at him, your frustration only grew. “This isn’t you,” you said, your voice softer now, tinged with sadness. “You’re treating me like I’m just your princess, like I’m someone you barely know. Do you even know how much it hurt when you never wrote back to me? I kept sending letter after letter, but it was like you didn’t care. Like you forgot about me.”

Choso’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “It wasn’t my place to respond, Your Highness.”

It was that damn phrase. “Your place?” you echoed, now even more bitterly. “You were my friend, Choso. My closest friend. Now you stand here, calling me Your Highness like I’m a stranger, like we never ran through the gardens or talked under the stars. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

For a moment, his expression softened, but it was fleeting. He straightened, his demeanor distant once more. “It’s dangerous for you to be here,” he said quietly. “I need to call for a carriage to take you back to the palace.”

Your heart sunk to your derriere. If Choso did indeed send you back, your parents would undeniably discover that you’ve been sneaking out. “No!” you snapped, stepping forward. “You can’t. If my parents find out I was here, they’ll—”

“They’ll ensure your safety,” he interrupted, his voice steady but firm. “And that’s what matters.”

You stared at him, now anger bubbling in your chest. “So you’ll just hand me over like I’m some burden to be dealt with? What about you?” Then, in a strong fit, you bursted out. “Are you going to stay here and fool around with girls while I’m locked away in the palace?”

His eyes widened briefly at your accusation, a flicker of surprise breaking through his stoic mask. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step back. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“Fair?” you shot back, your voice trembling. “What’s fair about any of this, Choso? You’re not even trying to fight for us—for the friendship we used to have.”

He hesitated, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then make it simple!” you demanded, your heart aching with every word. “Stop pushing me away. Stop acting like I don’t matter to you anymore.”

For a moment, you thought he might say something—something real, something that would bridge the growing chasm between you. But instead, he turned away, his voice steady and distant as he said, “Wait here. I’ll call for the carriage.”

You watched him walk away, the ache in your chest spreading until it felt like it would consume you entirely. The handkerchief in your hand trembled as you clenched your fingers around it, your anger and sadness swirling into a storm of emotion.

And yet, even as he disappeared into the bustling streets, a part of you refused to believe this was the end. You couldn’t let it be.

Ever since his return to the palace, Choso has been ignoring you.

It’s not that you were spending every hour and every minute with him before, when he was just your childhood friend. However, you would meet everyday, whether it to be sneak off into the gardens at night, or meet for lunch or dinner. Even a request of yours could’ve secured a visit to town, the both of you going to town to eat pastries and street food while accompanied by a chaperone. Of course, that was due to your incessant pleas to your disapproving mother, but you could score an occasional playdate outside the palace every month or so.

But it feels…different. And he feels different.

You oft find yourself daydreaming about him, older and a decorated soldier. And before you can catch yourself, you find your cheeks heated and your heart set aflutter. It’s a bit mind-boggling, really. Ever since Choso left, none of the future dukes and lords had ever caught your attention, even at balls. Their gentle, weak disposition didn’t compare to your Choso, you always thought. Back then, you had always thought of it as pride for your best friend, but now…..

Musing aside, you’re tired of this distance Choso has created between you. So you choose to seek him out.

The castle courtyard was alive with the sharp clang of swords and the rhythmic stomp of boots on hard-packed dirt. You leaned over the balustrade of the upper terrace, concealed behind a stone pillar, watching the soldiers below. It wasn’t the sparring or the strategy that captivated you—it was Choso.

The sun bore down on him as he moved with precision and power, his blade a silver blur as he sparred with one of the veteran knights. His whole torso is bare; damp with sweat, the sun shines against the cords and cords of muscle that then lead to a string of hair that trails into his trousers. The muscles in his arms ripple with every swing and parry. You bite your lip, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks that you stubbornly attributed to the summer heat.

He had changed so much. Gone was the boy who had laughed with you under the willow tree and run with you through the gardens. In his place was a man who carried the weight of war on his broad shoulders, his every movement deliberate, his expression unreadable. And yet, despite the distance he put between you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

When the sparring session ended, Choso handed his sword to a squire and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. You straightened as he turned, half-expecting him to glance up and spot you. But he didn’t. Instead, he spoke briefly to the knight, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. You couldn’t keep hiding and watching from afar. You had to speak to him, to demand answers for why he had been avoiding you since the day in the alley.

Quickly, you made your way down to the courtyard, your pulse racing as you rehearsed what you would say. But when you reached the training grounds, Choso was already heading toward the barracks.

“Choso!” you called out, your voice echoing across the courtyard.

He froze mid-step, his shoulders tensing before he turned slowly to face you. His expression was neutral, guarded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something he quickly masked.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head. “What brings you here?”

You frowned, frustrated by the formality in his tone. “I wanted to speak with you,” you said, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy with training and my duties.”

“That’s a lie,” you said, crossing your arms. “You always find a reason to leave whenever I try to approach you. You didn’t even look at me after the alley—”

“Your Highness,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not proper for you to be seen in the training grounds.”

“Proper?” you repeated, anger flaring in your chest. “Since when do you care about what’s proper? You didn’t care when we were sneaking out or when we were running through the gardens—”

“That was different,” he said, his tone softer now. “We were children. Things aren’t the same anymore.”

“Why not?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the soldiers milling about in the distance. “I’m not pushing you away,” he said finally. “I’m doing what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “How can ignoring me and avoiding me be what’s best for me?”

Choso didn’t answer. Instead, he bowed his head again, his hands clenched at his sides. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I need to return to my duties.”

And before you could stop him, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the courtyard, your heart aching with every step he took.

You paced the length of your chambers, clutching the skirts of your dress. It’s been two times that Choso dismissed since his arrival. Did he abhor you so?

It was as if an invisible wall had been erected between you, the builder of it Choso for some mysterious reason. Proprietary aside, it would be okay for the occasional chat, would it not? After all, he was still a noble in his own regard, and a conversation or two wouldn’t be frowned upon. So why was he ignoring you entirely?

You couldn’t take it anymore. If he wouldn’t come to you, then you would ensure he had no choice but to stay by your side. If he truly detests it, you will let him go, no matter how painful it would be and how ardently you would mourn your friendship. But you needed to know.

Resolved, you marched to your parents’ audience chamber, where they were seated in quiet discussion. Your father looked up first, his brows furrowing slightly at your abrupt entrance. “What is it, my dear? You seem troubled.”

Your mother glanced at you as well, seated right next to the king, her sharp gaze assessing. “Has something happened?”

You straightened your shoulders, facing them both, willing your voice to remain steady. “Father, Mother, I have a request.”

Your father tilted his head, curious. “Go on.”

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “I would like Choso to be assigned as my personal guard.”

The queen blinked, her lips pressing into a thin line, and questioned, “Choso?”

“Yes,” you said quickly to prevent your mother from getting a word in. “He’s proven himself in battle, hasn’t he? He’s been promoted several times for his skill and loyalty. Who better to protect me?”

Your father leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “It’s true he’s risen quickly through the ranks. He’s a fine soldier.”

“And he’s someone I trust,” you added, stepping closer. “He’s been by my side since we were children. I feel safer with him than with anyone else. With me growing into adulthood, there would be no one better to be by my side.”

Your mother’s gaze sharpened. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with his recent return to the palace, would it?”

You met her eyes, refusing to back down. “It has everything to do with the fact that I need someone I can rely on. Someone who knows me.”

Your father exchanged a look with your mother, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. I will speak to the general about the arrangement.” Then, a little wryly, he adds, “Although, I did hear that it was him that reported you when you were sneaking out in public. Perhaps it would be a fine match.” At that, your mother visibly bristled at the memory of hearing that you were out, unguarded.

At the king’s words, relief washed over you, but it was quickly tempered by your mother’s stern voice. “This is highly unusual, you know. A princess requesting a specific guard. People will talk.”

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes, but showing sass to your mother would mean that she would argue further.  Instead, you went and showed her your pride. “Let them,” you said, lifting your chin. “I don’t care what they say.”

Your father chuckled softly, knowing you would say something of the sort. “Spoken like a true princess.”

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head. “Both of you, Father and Mother.”

As you left the chamber, your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was your chance—your chance to bring Choso back into your life. Whatever walls he had built between you, you were determined to tear them down.

The water was warm, steam curling gently around you as you leaned back in the large marble tub. The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant patterns across the tiled floor. It was one of the few moments you had to yourself, free from the watchful eyes of attendants and the endless constraints of royal duty. You closed your eyes, sinking deeper into the water, allowing yourself to relax—until the door to your bathing chamber slammed open.

“Your Highness, why did you—” At first, Choso raised his voice slightly, storming in. Then, he stopped right in his tracks as he noticed you, and your face, your neck and then the rest of your body engorged in soapy, steamy water. Blushing furiously, he turned, scrambling for the door. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to—”

He was rigid as he stormed toward the exit, and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the sight. “Choso, wait,” you called, your voice laced with amusement. He stopped abruptly, halting awkwardly in his tracks. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm for your new title,” you teased, “I’d prefer if you didn’t barge into the bathing chamber. Let us count ourselves lucky that you had not seen… more.”

It was nearly impossible not to laugh now. Even the back of his neck was flushed a deep crimson, and it struck you as absurdly endearing. The aloof and stoic soldier who had spent weeks ignoring you had crumbled into a shy boy at the mere sight of you in a tub. You supposed it made sense—he’d likely not had much interaction with women, what with his rigid dedication to the army. Still, his reaction felt... exaggerated.

Choso let out a shaky exhale, his voice strained when he finally spoke. “I apologize,” he said, his tone clipped as though to mask his discomfort. “But I must ask—why did you instate me as your guard?”

The answer was simple, and you played absentmindedly with a soap bubble as you replied, “Because there is no one I trust more than you.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for the faint dripping of water. Then, Choso spoke, his voice low and almost pained. “Why must you do this to me? Why must you torment me so?”

What?

His words pierced through the lighthearted atmosphere, leaving you stunned. A pang of hurt welled in your chest at the sharpness of his tone. “Does it torment you to be in my company?” you asked, laughing scornfully to hide the sting.

When he didn’t answer, the silence was louder than any words could have been.

“If it torments you,” you continued bitterly, “then so be it. You have already had my one liberty stripped away. Mother and Father have doubled the surveillance on me, all thanks to you.” The memory of your recent restrictions only added fuel to the fire of your frustration. “Is this not fair? An eye for an eye, then. Perhaps your torment will teach you to stop pretending you know what’s best for me.”

Still brimming with anger, you lifted your chin and gestured to the door. “You may leave now.”

For a moment, he stood there, the weight of his presence filling the room. Then, with a stiff nod, he turned to the door. “Your Highness,” he murmured, his voice cold and formal.

And then, he was gone.

You really do abhor dinner parties.

There’s much wrong with them, and if you had to, you could do a systematic rundown of every single grievance. The first and foremost was the absurd inability to properly enjoy the food. The chefs’ hard work deserved to be indulged in, not nibbled delicately with those ridiculous little spoons. And then there was the matter of breathing, which you could barely manage with your waist cinched so tightly and your bodice forcing your chest up like some cruel display. Sitting down practically demanded you forgo the simple luxury of air.

But the worst part? Having to entertain men.

“And I have acquired double the profits of Lord Gojo,” Lord Naoya declared, puffing his chest like a rooster preening in the henhouse. His voice boomed with self-importance, his words spilling out in a showy, rehearsed cadence.

You couldn’t help yourself—you smiled. And while it appeared to him as admiration, it was born of pure amusement. The man clearly thought you were too dim to know better, but you were well-versed in state finances. Lord Naoya’s exaggerated claims were as transparent as glass.

On your right, Choso sat silently, his role as your personal guard justifying his unusually close position. He had been quiet all evening, his eyes scanning the room more than his plate.

“And surely, a woman as lovely as yourself would agree that business acumen is the truest mark of a man’s value,” Naoya continued, leaning closer to you with a smirk you found utterly punchable.

You giggled, not at his words, but at the sheer absurdity of them. You bit your lip to stifle a laugh, but your amusement couldn’t be fully hidden.

When you finally turned to glance at Choso, however, your mirth faltered. He wasn’t looking at Naoya anymore—his dark eyes were locked on you, his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

He looked very upset.

You blinked, confused, before glancing back at Naoya, who was still prattling on, utterly oblivious. Was Choso… angry at you?

It didn’t make sense. After you had initiated him as your guard, he’d been resigned after that confrontation in your bathing chambers. Ever since, you’d seen him stoic, protective, and even exasperated, but this—this was different. The weight of his gaze lingered on you like a reprimand, and it unsettled you in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

“Your Highness, I trust you’d agree,” Naoya pressed, oblivious to the charged air.

“Agree?” you echoed, snapping back to attention. You hadn’t been listening, too distracted by Choso’s silent brooding. “Oh, of course,” you said vaguely, waving your hand with a polite smile. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Naoya looked pleased with himself, but you barely noticed. Your focus shifted back to Choso, who had turned his head forward, his jaw tight. You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Is something the matter?”

He didn’t look at you, his tone curt. “Nothing, Your Highness.”

Your stomach twisted at the formality. The night had already been exhausting enough, and now Choso was acting like you’d personally offended him.

“Choso,” you pressed, your voice softer now, “if I’ve done something to upset you—”

“It’s not my place to say,” he interrupted, finally looking at you. His gaze was sharp, cutting through your defenses. “But if I may offer counsel, I’d suggest not wasting your smiles on men like him.”

You blinked, taken aback. His words weren’t loud, but they struck with the force of a hammer.

“What does that mean?” you whispered, your amusement long gone, replaced by confusion—and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“It means,” Choso said, his voice low, “that he’s not worth it.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with implication.

Before you could respond, the clinking of glasses drew everyone’s attention, and you were forced to look away as a toast was made. But even as the room filled with polite applause and laughter, your thoughts were consumed by Choso’s quiet but pointed remarks.

When you glanced back at him, his focus was elsewhere, his expression carefully neutral. Yet something about the tension in his shoulders told you that the conversation wasn’t over—not really.

And for the rest of the evening, Naoya’s words became nothing more than background noise, drowned out by the quiet storm brewing in Choso’s eyes.

The air in your chambers was warm, the faint crackle of the fireplace soothing you as your maid finished tugging the laces of your nightgown into place. The fabric was delicate, thin enough to feel the cool evening breeze against your skin despite the room's warmth. With a bow, the maid excused herself, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Ever since that dinner party with Naoya, Choso had been more distant than ever. Before, it had seemed that he had warmed up to the task of being your guard; whenever you walked through the garden, you eventually warmed him enough that the both of you could converse during the stroll. Of course, it hadn’t returned to what it was like before, but it was still progress. However, now it seemed that all he had to offer was curt responses and avoidant stares. 

The change grated on you, more than you cared to admit. You weren’t naïve; you knew something had shifted that night. The way he had looked at you, the way his words had cut—it all lingered, a splinter in your chest that you couldn’t pull free.

Still, tonight was meant to be routine, a brief reprieve from the emotional turmoil. You always ended your evenings with a massage, a small luxury that helped soothe the tension from the day. Summoning Choso to your chambers, you intended for him to call for the maid who usually performed the task.

When he arrived, his expression was as stony as ever. “You called for me, Your Highness?”

“Yes, Choso,” you said, smoothing your hands over the hem of your nightgown. You lazed back on your chaise lounge, head against pillow as you looked at him. “I need the maid for my massage. Could you fetch her?”

He hesitated. “The maids have retired for the night. Shall I summon someone from the servants’ quarters?”

You frowned. The thought of disturbing anyone at this hour felt excessive. Then, your gaze drifted to Choso, his broad shoulders rigid, his hands clasped behind his back in his usual formal stance. An idea struck you, and you spoke before fully thinking it through.

“Then you’ll do it.”

His dark eyes snapped to yours, wide with disbelief. “Your Highness, I—”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence but unable to fully hide the mischief in your smile. “Oh, come now, Choso. You’re stronger than any maid. Surely, your hands would be better suited for the task.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you as though you’d just declared the sky was green. His lips parted, but no words came out, his gaze darting nervously around the room before settling back on you. “I don’t think that’s… appropriate,” he said carefully, his voice low and strained.

You leaned back slightly, arching a brow. “And why not? It’s just a massage. Surely, as my personal guard, it’s your duty to ensure my comfort, no?”

“Your Highness—”

“Choso,” you interrupted, your tone softening as you leaned forward slightly, letting your hair cascade over one shoulder. “You’ve sworn an oath to protect me. Are you really going to deny me such a simple request? Besides,” you added with a teasing smile, “I trust you. Who better to take care of me?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his shoulders visibly tensing. It was rare to see him so uncharacteristically flustered, and you found it almost endearing. Still, you could see the war waging behind his eyes—the struggle between his rigid sense of propriety and his inability to deny you.

“Choso,” you said again, gentler this time, “it’s just us here. No one else needs to know. Please?”

The word seemed to undo him. After a long, weighted pause, he exhaled sharply, his hands clenching at his sides before he gave a stiff nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

You smiled in satisfaction and shifted, lying down on the chaise lounge with your head resting on your folded arms. The thin fabric of your nightgown clung to your back and shoulders, leaving little to the imagination, but you paid it no mind. Choso, however, hesitated, his gaze flickering over you before he finally moved to kneel beside you, his movements almost painfully hesitant.

You settled onto the chaise lounge, lying on your stomach and pulling your hair over one shoulder to expose the curve of your neck. The thin fabric of your nightgown clung to your body, leaving little to the imagination, but you paid no mind to it. Choso, however, lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his dark eyes flickering over the exposed skin before quickly darting away.

The tension in the room was palpable, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his hesitation. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until finally, he knelt beside you, his movements stiff and deliberate. His hands hovered just above your shoulders for a moment, as if he were debating whether to go through with it, before he finally made contact.

The first press of his palms was firm, his calloused hands warm against your skin. He worked in silence, but his touch was tentative, almost reluctant, as though every movement was a battle against himself. His fingers found the knots in your shoulders, but his grip tightened slightly as you let out a soft sigh of relief.

“You’re good at this,” you murmured, your voice languid. “I should’ve asked you sooner.”

Choso didn’t respond, but his hands stilled for the briefest moment, his jaw tightening. He resumed a beat later, his touch growing more confident as his fingers moved lower, kneading along the length of your spine. Yet, there was something almost possessive in the way he worked, his hands lingering at the curve of your back, brushing the edges of your nightgown with an intimacy that felt deliberate, even if unspoken.

Heat pooled in your belly, but the mood shifted when Choso spoke, his voice low and edged with something that made your breath catch.

“Do you let all your guards do this to you?”

Your eyes snapped open, the sharpness of his tone cutting through the haze. You turned your head to look at him, frowning. “What?”

He straightened, pulling his hands away, anger visible on his face. “Do you let all your guards touch you like this, or am I just the special fool?”

The accusation in his voice stung. You sat up on the chaise lounge, clutching the fabric of your nightgown to your chest. “What are you implying?”

“I’m implying,” he said, his eyes dark and filled with something unnameable, “that you smiled at Naoya like he was the only man in the room. That you entertained his nonsense—his lies—like you actually enjoyed it.”

A sharp laugh escaped you, incredulous and hurt. “You think I was flirting with Naoya? That I would ever entertain a fool like him?”

“You did tonight,” Choso shot back, his jaw clenched tightly. “You smiled and laughed at him, as if he deserved it. As if you weren’t above him. The you I knew wouldn’t have entertained someone like Naoya for a second. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

That cut deeper than it should have. Your breath hitched, and frustration welled in your chest, bursting free before you could stop it.

“You don’t know me anymore?” you echoed, your voice trembling with emotion. “Well, Choso, I don’t know you either! You’re the one who left me without a word. You’re the one who never answered my letters, who pushed me away for no reason. You didn’t answer them for years, Choso. For years! How can you stand there and talk about me changing when you’ve done everything you could to shut me out?”

He flinched, as if your words struck a nerve. His gaze fell to the floor, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I didn’t answer because I thought it was better that way,” he said quietly. “Because I knew… whatever this was—whatever we were—it couldn’t last. I didn’t want to make it harder for you.”

Your heart cracked at his words, tears threatening to spill over. “You didn’t want to make it harder for me?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You made it unbearable, Choso! You didn’t just leave me, you abandoned me. Without explanation, without closure. You were my friend, my closest ally, and you just… disappeared!”

“I was avoiding the inevitable,” he said, his tone low and bitter. “I was saving us both from something that could never be.”

“And why not?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Why couldn’t we have stayed friends? Why couldn’t you have stayed as someone I trusted, someone I could rely on?”

Choso let out a harsh, incredulous laugh, his head bowing as his hands rose to rub at his temples. When he looked back at you, his eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You think I just want to be your ally?” Choso’s voice cracked, his tone harsh and trembling, a storm barely contained within him. He stepped closer, his shadow stretching toward you in the dim light. His dark eyes blazed, raw and unguarded, piercing straight through you.

“Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life standing at your side, pretending it doesn’t destroy me every time you smile at another man?” he continued, his voice rising with emotion. “Do you think I want to be some nameless figure in your life, someone who exists only to bow, to nod, to follow orders while the rest of the world gets to bask in your warmth?”

Your breath hitched as he took another step, the space between you shrinking.

“I don’t want to be your ally, your friend, or some loyal servant,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I want you. I have always wanted you.”

His confession struck you like lightning, setting every nerve ablaze. You could see the anguish etched into his features, the way his hands shook as if he was struggling to hold himself back.

“I want to touch you without wondering if it’s inappropriate,” he went on, his words tumbling out, unrestrained. “I want to kiss you without the weight of the crown between us. I want to wake up beside you every morning, knowing you’re mine—truly mine—and not just some unattainable dream I’ve been foolish enough to carry.”

“Choso…” you whispered, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

“I want to tear apart every damned rule, every line drawn between us,” he continued, his voice thick with frustration and desire. “I want the world to see that you’re mine—not Naoya’s, not some prince’s, not anyone else’s. Mine.”

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair, his composure unraveling further. “But that’s not what the world allows, is it?” he said, his tone laced with venom. “Because I’m not a prince or a duke or anyone worthy of you. I’m just a man—a soldier. And the world says I can’t have you.”

His chest heaved with the force of his confession, and his eyes—God, his eyes—burned with a pain so deep it was almost unbearable to witness.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as his words sank in. “You could have had me,” you said, your voice trembling, tears stinging your eyes. “If you’d just stayed, if you’d let me in instead of shutting me out. We could have figured this out together, Choso. I would have fought for you.”

His expression faltered, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his anger. “And what would you have me do?” he asked hoarsely. “Stand beside you while everyone whispers that I’m unworthy? Watch as suitors line up for your hand, knowing I can’t stop them because it’s my duty to protect you, not love you?”

“I don’t care what the world says!” you burst out, stepping closer, your voice rising with desperation. “I don’t care about duty or station or rules. All I ever wanted was you, Choso. You, as my friend, my ally, my—”

“Your what?” he interrupted, his voice low and rough. “Say it. Say what I’ve been longing to hear and dreading all at once.”

Your breath hitched, tears streaming down your face as you met his gaze. “My everything,” you whispered.

For a moment, the tension between you hung thick and electric, the weight of years of unspoken words pressing down on you both. Then Choso stepped back, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight.

“That’s why I stayed away,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “Because I knew if I didn’t, I’d lose myself in you completely. And I wouldn’t be able to let you go. This is why I must stay away.” 

For a moment, he lingered there, his hand flexing at his side as if fighting some invisible force. His gaze dropped, and when he finally turned away, it was slow, deliberate, each step a struggle. He didn’t look back as he crossed the threshold, the heavy sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silence.

The silence in your room was suffocating. Curtains drawn tightly, the dim flicker of a single candle cast wavering shadows on the stone walls. Plates of untouched food sat on a tray near the door, abandoned by the maids you had dismissed hours ago. The only sound was the faint rustle of your gown as you shifted on the edge of your bed, your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold your broken pieces together.

A soft knock broke the stillness, tentative and almost hesitant. You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to see anyone, let alone speak. Whoever it was would surely leave if you didn’t respond.

But the door creaked open.

Your heart twisted. “I told you all to leave me be,” you said hoarsely, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I’m not one of your maids,” came a quiet reply from a voice that was all-too-familiar.

Your head snapped up, breath catching in your throat as Choso stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. His dark eyes, always so steady and unreadable, now held an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

“Get out,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended, though the hurt behind it was impossible to mask. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I know,” he murmured, taking a hesitant step forward. He held something in his hands—a small stack of parchment, edges worn and yellowed. “But I have something to say to you.”

You frowned, your gaze darting to the papers he carried. “What is that?”

“Letters,” Choso said, his voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard before continuing, “The ones I wrote to you but never sent.”

You stiffened, your heart lurching painfully in your chest. “Why are you showing me this now?”

“Because I should have given them to you a long time ago,” he said simply. “And because I need you to know… what I couldn’t say before. But what I feel I must say now, for I am done with pretending I am not a selfish, selfish man.”

He stepped closer, setting the letters on the bed beside you. For a moment, he hesitated, then knelt before you, his hands resting on his thighs as he looked up at you with a mixture of guilt and determination, as if he had made a decision. And you fight desperately to not yourself believe that, perhaps, he has changed his mind, that he will finally take you in the way you desire.

But you steel your heart as you cautiously look at him. 

“Read them,” he said quietly. “Please.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the stack, the paper cool and rough beneath your touch. The first letter was dated years ago, the ink slightly smudged, as if his hand had lingered too long on the words.

My dearest friend,

I’ve written and torn up this letter a dozen times. How do I explain the ache I feel every night I march under foreign stars? How do I explain that even on the battlefield, amidst the chaos, my mind drifts to you? I think of our secret meetings in the garden, the way you’d laugh as you dared me to meet you in the willow tree every night. Do you remember that night we barely escaped the guards? Your laughter, your gown splayed across the forest floor. I dream of those nights—of you leaning close to steal the fruit in my palm, staring up at me, the world disappearing, and wishing I could ask for more. For you close to me not under the pretense of stealing the pomegranate in my hand, but for something more.

Your voice broke as you read, tears pooling in your eyes. Choso remained silent, his head bowed, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

You moved to the next letter.

The scent of jasmine haunted me on the journey here. Every step of the way, I remembered you crouched beneath the trellis, daring me to pluck the flowers despite the gardener’s wrath. When I handed you the bouquet, your smile made me feel invincible, as though I could conquer kingdoms just to see it again. I wished then that I could have told you the truth—that every reckless moment we shared was a reprieve from the weight of duty. I wanted to kiss you in the moonlight, to tell you that you were more than a dream to me. I tried to, in part, with the hairpin I gave you, one that amplified your gentle beauty even more than I thought possible. But how could I ruin what little time we had?

“Choso,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why didn’t you send these?”

“I was a coward,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought it was kinder to stay away. To bury how I felt. But it wasn’t kinder, was it?”

You shook your head, unable to speak as you continued reading, each letter peeling away the walls you’d built to protect yourself from the pain of his absence.

When you reached the last letter, your breath hitched.

If I were braver, I’d tell you this to your face: I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time we ran barefoot through the gardens, laughing until we couldn’t breathe. I’ve loved you since you bandaged my hand after my sparring lessons, scolding me and treating me gently as if I weren’t a warrior, as if my rough, damaged hands were worth your care. I love you with a desperation that terrifies me, that kept me awake in camp as I replayed your smile over and over. If I lose you now, it will be my own doing. But still, I love you.

Your tears fell freely now, soaking the parchment. Choso rose slowly, his hands lifting as if to touch you but stopping just shy of your skin.

“Say something,” he pleaded, his voice raw.

Instead, you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet you. Your lips found his in a kiss that was fierce and unrestrained, pouring every ounce of longing, anger, and love into the connection.

Choso froze for a heartbeat before melting into you. The kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matched your own.

His hands moved to grasp your waist, as if afraid you might vanish. Before they could touch you, he paused as if doubting his ability to be able to touch you. To your frustration, the heat of his almost-contact pulled away. “Your Highness—”

“Choso,” you pleaded, grasping his hands in yours and placing them on their rightful place: your body. You dragged his hands down your torso, helping him explore your curves sensually, intimately as he squeezed his brows together, eyes shut, conveying his inner turmoil. His resolve almost cracked as you begged him, “Take me. Please.”

With agitation, he withdrew his hands from your grasp, painfully clenching them by his sides as he groaned. “Your Highness, you’re playing with fire. I mustn’t. Your body is of a thousand gold, and I would never dare to touch you with my hands—”

But you interrupted him by snorting. “If it is of a thousand gold, or whatever archaic term the royal legends have invented, then you are a thousand gold richer.” You gently took his face in your arms, kissing his forehead. “I am yours, and if you believe that anyone will have my heart after you, then you are most grievously mistaken.” 

He still looked at you, both kneeling on your bed, with a conflicted expression. You gave him a reassuring look before pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. Then, you teased him softly. “Will you not fight for my hand? Will you truly let me be promised to another man after this?”

His eyes darkened in a possessive manner, as he joined his lips against yourself furiously. “I would never,” he punctuated his interruptions with a searing kiss. “let anyone have you after this.”

With tender hands that heavily contrasted his desperation, he slipped the shoulder of your dress, dragging the hem down and down until your breasts were bare to the air. “So, so beautiful,” he whispered before enclosing your nubs in his mouth, kissing them both tenderly.

You could only but gasp, victim to his ministrations as he sneaked another hand up your legs, gently caressing your thighs until he met your core. He groaned, louder than ever, when he was met with the bare heat, wet with your desire and arousal all for him. With painstaking gentleness, he eased a finger in, drinking in your moans and sounds of pleasure. 

He couldn’t help but smile at the small scream that escaped you when he curled his fingers up. It seemed he had found the place that pleasured you most, one that you had stayed unbeknownst to. And he definitely couldn’t stop himself from torturing and repeatedly hitting against it with the way squeals of his name left your mouth whenever he did so.

Before you knew it, an unknown feeling washed over you as Choso kept continuing his touches, one that seemed like worship with how he was looking for your reactions, for your pleasure. A gush of slick escaped you, and Choso kissed your breasts one final time before drawing out his finger.

You peered down at him, flushed, as his eyes stayed trained on you while he slowly drew his finger inside his mouth, seeming to savor your taste. At last, he pulled it away from his mouth and asked, voice hoarse, “how are you feeling?”

You laugh bashfully and look away, blushing. “You know you don’t need to ask that. But,” and you pause, looking at him through your lashes, “you know I want more.”

The flush that was only apparent on his cheeks spread to his entire face and neck and he whines as he buries his face in your breasts once more, now to evade eye contact. “Don’t say things like that. It makes holding back even more arduous.”

You stroke his hair, smiling softly. “Would you have any qualms about taking my…maidenhood if you were my husband.”

His answer is immediate. “Absolutely not.”

“So you want to…make love with me?” You heat up at your own words, nervously looking at him in fear of his rejection.

He pauses, but then slowly nods. “Well, yes, but—”

“Then we shall put archaic traditions aside. Choso,” and you look at him mischievously as he squints at you, “I command you to make love to me.”

The reaction is immediate. As if animated again, he pins you down against your mattress, eyes feral as he takes your lips with his once more. With both hands, a riiiip echoes across the room as he entirely tears your shift in his bare hands. Mind you, it was not weak material, and you lay dumbfounded as he strips his shirt off.

You don’t even have time to admire his bare torso, muscled as you knew it would be. Your eyes automatically trail down to the string of hair that leads down to his v-line as he rids himself of his trousers. 

What gets uncovered makes you pray for your life, and you gasp, eyes wide. “How is that even supposed to go inside—”

He says your name, reassuringly, as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I will take the utmost care of you. I promise.” He lines his length with your entrance, and, with another kiss, he pushes in gently.

When his member first breaches you, you gasp, dizzied by the fullness. Then, as he slowly bottoms out, you whine while impaled on his cock. “More.”

Basking in the euphoria of your clenching heat around him, at your request, he curses. He pulls out his length—slowly, gently—and then slams back in, and you squeal, whispering a breathless utter of his name once more. 

He continues making love to you, the sounds of his devotion echoing across the room. When you both climax, it is down with a prayer of the other’s name, as a promise. That you are both each other’s, and no qualms about proprietary and status could any longer apprehend either of you.

When the both of you settle down, him having gently cleaned you with a cloth, he collapses next to you in bed, bare arms engulfing you and pulling you closer. As you both lie there, skin to skin, you giggle at your own thoughts.

At the sound, Choso perks up, looking at you in soft amusement. “What’s the matter, my love?”

Ignoring the way your heart fluttered at the nickname, you replied, “I daresay you will be the strongest prince consort in the history of our kingdom.”

The mention of the weak nobles that had ascended the throne in centuries past makes him snicker smugly. “I would agree,” he muses, amused like you. “They would not have been as tall as me, or as strong, or as good in bed—-”

“Choso!” you squealed, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it.

Grinning like a devil, he dodged with ease, catching your wrist and pulling you down onto the bed. Before you could protest, he wrestled himself on top of you, pinning your arms above your head and smothering you in kisses.

After his barrage was over, he turned solemn once more. “I’m serious,” he murmured, his tone softer, more sincere. His dark eyes searched yours, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’ll protect you, stand beside you, love you until my last breath. You’re my queen in every way that matters. And no matter what, I’ll never leave your side again.”

Your breath hitched, his words settling deep in your chest. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you smiled, warmth flooding your heart. “And I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was equal parts promise and devotion. It wasn’t hurried or frenzied, but slow, a tangible declaration of everything you both had endured to reach this moment. Here, in the quiet of your chamber, with his weight grounding you and his lips marking you as his, you found the only place you wanted to be—by his side, now and always.

general masterlist

a/n AHH HI POOKIES!! I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED MY FIRST CHOSO FIC?? let me know if i do him justice this was written with my pussy and me having a specific hyperfixation :3 anyways i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you guys did too :')

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

updated my masterlist finally :3

paintingchoso ⛧ masterlist

jujutsu kaisen

↳ ❝ choso ❞

ᯓ good boy (18+)

ᯓ family man (18+)

ᯓ blurb (18+)

↳ ❝ suguru ❞

ᯓ locker room talk (18+)

ᯓ stay in your place (18+)

↳ ❝ satoru ❞

ᯓ locker room talk (18+)

ᯓ good morning (18+)

↳ ❝ megumi ❞

ᯓ wip!

my hero academia

↳ ❝ dabi/touya todoroki ❞

ᯓ (soon…)

↳ ❝ tomura shigaraki ❞

ᯓ (soon…)

... & even more soon.

© paintingchoso 2025 : do not repost, copy, plagiarize, translate, or use my works OUTSIDE of tumblr.

personally i think choso would be the definition of a switch, one day he’s being the cutest begging for you. and the next he’s an absolute menace to your cunt, destroying your pussy from the inside out <3

family man (choso x reader 18+)

summary: choso needing to stuff you full of his cum <3

warnings: afab!reader, gender neutral terms, degradation, creampies, breeding, cunnalingus

w/c: 540

a/n: I DONT REMEMBER WRITING THIS BUT I FOUND IT IN MY NOTES TODAY APPARENTLY I WROTE THIS IN AUGUST 2024 AT 6 AM ENJOY THIS RAUNCHY SHIT

family man choso who has nothing else in his mind other than to stuff your cunt full of his seed.

he thinks it constantly, when you’re cooking dinner, folding the laundry, scrolling on your phone, etc. literally any time you’re in his vision he thinks of his cum dripping from your hole as you’re recovering from his relentless load after load.

just like today when he came home from his brother’s school after training yuuji. you were in the kitchen finishing up the dishes in your lounge wear. which usually consists of one of choso’s t-shirts and a pair of undies but that was more than enough to get him worked up and thinking about your blissed out expression when he first pushes his cock past your tight entrance.

which explains how you got to this point:

“one more load baby please,” choso grunts under his voice into your ear.

his hands grip your thighs tightly while pushing them further and further into yourself as he fucks his cum back into your cunt.

the mess of two loads already pumped in your willing pussy with the mixture of your own releases now making a mess on the kitchen counter below you.

“pussy so wet for me, made to take my cum — fuuh-ck!”

he reaches between you two to rub at your clit again, wanting to feel you clench and spasm all over him. choso loves when you cum around his cock, the way you squeeze him like you depend on it.

“cho, it’s— ah mm— it’s too much,” you gasp over your words at the intense overstimulation.

“hmm, i don’t think so,” he thrusts into you hard, making sure you can feel the tip of his dick pressing against your sweet spot, “you can still talk so my job isn’t done yet.”

“nng, c—cho!” you tell out, not sure when your orgasms start or end at this point but all you can feel is the overwhelming pleasure the half curse is giving you.

you wonder if his insistent need to stuff you so full of his cum has something to do with him being a death painting but you couldn’t care less. this man knows what he’s doing either way so it doesn’t matter. he has your feet on top of his shoulders now and his free hand now around your throat.

“t—take it, i know you can. take it for me, slut,” he groans out in between pants of him catching his breath, “f—fuuuuck need you to cum around me again! feels so gooood.”

his hand speeds up against your clit in just the right way for the otherworldly almost stinging pleasure to rush from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes. your eyes roll so far back that you lose your vision, clenching around him while he fucks his seed back into you.

your pure unadulterated indulgence was cut short when choso pulls out of you suddenly. before you could even finish letting out a whine you couldn’t even control, his tongue was cleaning the immense amount of cum he unleashed in your cunt.

“gotta clean up my mess to fill you more,” he mumbles in between licks, “need to make sure it takes.”

good boy (choso x reader 18+)*

content: just choso being a good puppy boy for you <3

warnings: pet play, edging, cock rings, public play, breeding, cum play, gags, etc.

puppy!choso whos begs you to scratch behind his ear when you get home from work until his cock is a leaking mess for you

puppy!choso who edges himself all day while wearing a cock ring so he’s all big and achy for you to use whenever you please

puppy!choso who can’t keep his hands to himself in public so you have to drag him into a bathroom or dressing room for him to fill your cunt for the third time today

puppy!choso that can’t control himself when he sees your cunt leaking with his seed that he needs to keep pumping loads into you to give him pups

puppy!choso who also has an oral fixation and just wants your puffy pink clit in his slobbery mouth, licking on it, sucking on it you name it

puppy!choso that needs to be gagged at times while he’s deep in your pussy because he can’t stop whining, almost screaming at how good you feel around him (and you can’t afford another noise complaint)

puppy!choso who just worships your cunny as much as he can before you’re squirming under his touch, his tongue or even his slightest breath

puppy!choso that wants to be a good boy and help you out under your desk while you play your games

good boy (choso x reader 18+)

summary: just choso being a good puppy boy for you <3

warnings: pet play, edging, cock rings, public play, breeding, cum play, gags, etc.

puppy!choso whos begs you to scratch behind his ear when you get home from work until his cock is a leaking mess for you

puppy!choso who edges himself all day while wearing a cock ring so he’s all big and achy for you to use whenever you please

puppy!choso who can’t keep his hands to himself in public so you have to drag him into a bathroom or dressing room for him to fill your cunt for the third time today

puppy!choso that can’t control himself when he sees your cunt leaking with his seed that he needs to keep pumping loads into you to give him pups

puppy!choso who also has an oral fixation and just wants your puffy pink clit in his slobbery mouth, licking on it, sucking on it you name it

puppy!choso that needs to be gagged at times while he’s deep in your pussy because he can’t stop whining, almost screaming at how good you feel around him (and you can’t afford another noise complaint)

puppy!choso who just worships your cunny as much as he can before you’re squirming under his touch, his tongue or even his slightest breath

puppy!choso that wants to be a good boy and help you out under your desk while you play your games

CAM GIRL! — CHOSO KAMO

loser!choso who is obsessed with going on cam girl websites, watching girls masturbate until they cum, pretending that he’s there with them, fisting his cock the whole way through. But recently, he’s become obsessed with one cam girl, you. He rushes home and opens his laptop to find you’re already streaming, his cock already straining against his slacks. He reads your stream title ‘send donations to make me cum’ with a little smiley face, as if it was some innocent thing. He wastes no time on clicking, the first thing he hears are your moans, your legs spread wide, pussy on full display for everyone watching. His breath hitches as he watches your brows furrow in pleasure, biting down on your plump lips as the dildo inside of you vibrates with each donation sent.

He’s already got his cock in hand, tugging at the base as pre cum leaks from his swollen tip. And you guessed it, he’s spending dollars upon dollars on you, one donation after another just so he can see your pretty pussy cum. And he plans on sending donations no matter how much he spends because in his eyes, he wants to be the one to make you cum even if he isn’t physically there. “Hah! T-thank you for the donations, Choso!” You’re moaning and whimpering like a bitch in heat and he can’t get enough of it.

Minutes go by and he can tell you’re so close to cumming, those pretty tits of yours moving with each breath you take, gasping and cursing. Your fingers reach down to rub your neglected clit, your eyes rolling back, toes pointed. “That’s it, baby, cum for me,” he moans, feeling his orgasm approach quicker. “Make a mess for me, wanna see that pretty pussy squirt.” And as if on command, your entire body quivers, head falling back as your pussy gushes, soaking your thighs and bed below you.

“Fuccckk!” You squeal, nearly on the brink of tears as you keep squirting, some of your juices even getting on the camera. “Oh my god! Ah! Fuck! Yes! Yes!” Your pussy makes such lewd noises, squelching as you slap your clit a few times. You’re screaming, shaking, fist gripping the sheets.

And Choso cums with you, the sticky substance landing on his computer screen. “Yes, baby, good fucking girl,” he grunts, abs tensing up as he rides out his orgasm. He hears your giggle from the other side of screen, turning the vibrating dildo off, yet still slowly rubbing your clit. “Wanna cum in that pussy so bad,” he whimpers.

“Wow,” you let out a blissful sigh, “I haven’t squirted that much in so long. You guys can thank Choso for that,” you giggle. He stares at the screen, watching your glossy eyes stare back into the camera. “Thank you, Choso.” You draw out his name like you’ve known him forever. “Message me for a free private chat.” You sit up from your position on the bed, blowing a kiss to the camera. “I gotta go now, hope you all had fun! Be back tomorrow!” And just like that the live ends.

loser!choso headcanons here

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Summary: When you see Choso, it's different every time. Every summer, he's a little taller. Every summer, his voice is a little deeper, a little richer. Every summer he's more handsome. And as you both grow together, so does your love.

** A story of love blooming between two individuals over many, many summers.

Pairing: Choso Kamo x F! Reader

Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers AU, Summertime AU, College AU

A/N: This story contains depictions of drowning and will have NSFW themes/content. Minors DNI

Story Warnings/Tags: Angst, Mutual Pining, Childhood Friends to Lovers, A lot of Tears, Choso and Reader both being bad at feelings, Growing Together, Summer Romance, Jealousy (Both Reader and Choso), First Love, Possessive Behavior, Life Changes, College Struggles, Profanity (of course)

○ PROLOGUE (CHAPTER 1): The Day We Met ○ You were nine years old when you'd laid eyes on the ocean for the first time. You had no idea that the ocean would also bring you to the boy who would hold your heart one day.

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○ CHAPTER 2: Our Summers ○ A journey through time and all the inevitable changes.

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○ CHAPTER 3: Life Goes On ○ Things take a turn.

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○ CHAPTER 4: The Truth Untold ○ Will this pain ever stop?

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○ CHAPTER 5: Beyond the Horizon

Choso x gn reader ( @berryghostbunny )

college au

warning: mention of throw up

summary: You and Choso go to a college party

Your first college party. You had been warned about college parties, pacing yourself, keeping an eye on your drink, don't sleep with strangers, etc. But you didn't worry too much because you had your boyfriend to protect you.

One problem tho... You were terrible at pacing yourself. an hour into the party you were the drunkest you have ever been and it was starting to get a bit overwhelming.

You sat on the couch of what you guessed was the living room when the whole room started to get hot. The music started to become muffled, and the people blurred into moving lights.

You tried to calm yourself by getting some water but as soon as you stood up you felt nauseous.

You flashed a look to Choso which he got immediately the hit and was at your side in an instant.

"Maybe we should get some fresh air, love." Choso wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you outside where there was a porch swing. He gently sat you down,

"I'll be back with some water." He pecked your head before running inside.

As you sat there and waited for him when the nauseous feeling came back, you quickly leaned over the porch railing and let everything out.

"Oh baby," You didn't even notice Choso come up behind you until he had his hand on your back. running his hand up and down soothingly, "Maybe it's time for us to go home."

You were about to object but you had to throw up again.

When you were finished wiped your mouth and leaned back to look at him. He smiled at you as he handed you a bottle of water.

"Let's go home."

*bonus*

At home Choso ran you a bath.

"Feeling better, love?" He said while sitting on the side of the bathtub resting his hand on your arm.

"So much better... Why don't you join me."

"I want to make sure you feel better."

"I already told you I do and I'll feel 10 times better if you join me." You raise your hand to place over his that touches your arm. He took that hand and brought it to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss.

"Your wish is my command, love."

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

Choso x gn reader ( @berryghostbunny )

college au

warning: mention of throw up

summary: You and Choso go to a college party

Your first college party. You had been warned about college parties, pacing yourself, keeping an eye on your drink, don't sleep with strangers, etc. But you didn't worry too much because you had your boyfriend to protect you.

One problem tho... You were terrible at pacing yourself. an hour into the party you were the drunkest you have ever been and it was starting to get a bit overwhelming.

You sat on the couch of what you guessed was the living room when the whole room started to get hot. The music started to become muffled, and the people blurred into moving lights.

You tried to calm yourself by getting some water but as soon as you stood up you felt nauseous.

You flashed a look to Choso which he got immediately the hit and was at your side in an instant.

"Maybe we should get some fresh air, love." Choso wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you outside where there was a porch swing. He gently sat you down,

"I'll be back with some water." He pecked your head before running inside.

As you sat there and waited for him when the nauseous feeling came back, you quickly leaned over the porch railing and let everything out.

"Oh baby," You didn't even notice Choso come up behind you until he had his hand on your back. running his hand up and down soothingly, "Maybe it's time for us to go home."

You were about to object but you had to throw up again.

When you were finished wiped your mouth and leaned back to look at him. He smiled at you as he handed you a bottle of water.

"Let's go home."

*bonus*

At home Choso ran you a bath.

"Feeling better, love?" He said while sitting on the side of the bathtub resting his hand on your arm.

"So much better... Why don't you join me."

"I want to make sure you feel better."

"I already told you I do and I'll feel 10 times better if you join me." You raise your hand to place over his that touches your arm. He took that hand and brought it to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss.

"Your wish is my command, love."

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

In Another Life I'm Sure It Was Better

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

characters: Satoru Gojo, Yuji Itadori, Choso Kamo, GN!Reader

summary and warnings: grief, angst, lost, use of Y/N • how they deal with your death

title inspired by PRIDE. - Kendrick Lamar

masterlist

Gojo

It was his fault. It was because of him you that were dead.

He stared at your lifeless body laying in his bed, running his fingers over your palm. He didn't like the fact he couldn't feel your pulse anymore, and he despised that you were as foolish as to try to save him, when you only led yourself to your own end. He didn't need help. But he loved that you wanted to protect him so badly. He wondered why he chose to keep your body instead of giving you the proper burial you deserved.

Maybe he was selfish.

He wanted to see your eyes staring up at him and that stupid grin (that he adored) you gave him when you woke up. He just wanted you back. But you weren't ever going to show him your beautiful smile ever again.

He was supposed to be the strongest.

He was supposed to protect you.

Yet he sits here, crying and holding your corpse that was embroidered with a blissful expression, the warmth of your hand faded from this awful planet.

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Yuji

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He held you, or rather what was left of you, to his chest.

"C'mon, Y/N. This isn't funny."

It wasn't this time, not anymore. He was used to you giggling and pushing him off of you with a 'Yuji! It was a joke!' but you weren't playing dead anymore. You really weren't alive.

"This isn't... This isn't okay. Fushiguro and Kugisaki are gonna scold us for being gone so long."

They were, usually. Kugisaki teased you two and made comments about how you were both busy making out, and Fushiguro just hit you both on the head. But if you weren't there then they would figure out what happened. You were always next to Yuji.

"...I'm sorry. I'll meet you later, yeah?"

He buried you in the flower field near the school. He knew you would be happy there.

That was where you first met him.

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Choso

People say death comes easy once your used to it.

But this was different. You weren't meant to die.

Blood was on his hands, but it was the only time he wasn't expecting it. It wasn't because of his technique.

He hated red. He hated that the color strikes through your body like an abstract painting that was already beautiful. He wishes it was a dream that he could wake up from, and see your gorgeous body without a stain on it.

Yet he couldn't.

"My love?"

His call was unanswered as he stared at your weightless body. The death happened so fast you didn't even get a chance to close your eyes. Better than having a slow one, he supposed. If you were going to leave you would deserve a quick ending. He would hate to see you suffer in your final moments.

With a kiss to your forehead, he folds your hands together and leaves you by your family's burial shrine. Yuki had once told him that bodies take a while to decay, so he left you there for a few months, and burned your remainings. He has to shut down his tears when he walks by the vase filled with your ashes every day.

But at least you were still with him, even in death.

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created by sunnywrotethis☆

2025

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