Choso Kamo Fluff - Tumblr Posts
Choso sleeps. A lot.
It’s more than you would imagine for a man of his importance, yet for nearly three hours a day after getting to your place, he curls up on the couch, kicks his legs up and closes his pretty eyes to let his dreams take over and slumber wash over him.
It's cute. It's also just a little bizarre.
You always smile down at him, card a hand through his soft hair, plant a kiss to his forehead and lay a warm blanket over his shoulders to keep him warm.
His little snores ring in the air as you cook dinner, and when he wakes up with the smell of fresh food, he hooks his chin over your shoulder and wraps his arms around your torso with a sleepy smile.
Today, that cycle breaks.
You card your hand through his hair with a loving smile, lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, and-
Big, pretty eyes immediately blink open before you can make contact, a wide smile splaying over his face, only to drop in worry when you flinch back and fall.
“OH GOD!”
“Oh no!”
An arm quickly darts out to catch you, only to have you half caught, half plopped to the floor. You clutch your chest in fear, “choso! What’re you doing!”
“I… I was just-“
“You scared me, you ass! Why are you pretending to be asleep!”
"I didn't mean to!" he says quickly. "I just got so excited for my kiss... I'm sorry."
Your brows furrow and you plop down next to him on the couch, "what kiss, Cho?"
His cheeks blister into a blush of embarrassment, "When... when I fall asleep, you press a kiss to my forehead, and I really like that. It's something that's simple, but i really enjoy you doing." He buries his face in his hands to hide the way he’s blushing.
You ponder for a few seconds before the lightbulb goes off in your head, “ohhhhh! Your forehead kiss!”
He nods in his hands.
“Babe,” you chuckle. “I can just give you forehead kisses. There not exclusive to when you’re asleep! All you have to do is ask, or let me just come to you naturally. Nine times out of ten, when I come near you, I'm coming in for a kiss." To prove your point, you lean inwards to press a loving kiss to his forehead, then one on his nose, then the corner of his lips. He smiles and turns his head slightly to catch your lips in a kiss, and you pull back with a smile. “I like kissing you. Awake, and asleep.”
“Well I like receiving your kisses,” he says, laying his hand palm up for you to lace your fingers with, which you do happily before bringing his knuckles up to kiss them as well. “I like you giving me affection.”
“And I like giving it to you,” you laugh.
He tosses an arm around your shoulder and pull you close to his side, allowing you to cuddle into him with a happy sigh.
You kiss his cheek, “so… you like getting kissed huh?”
He blushes again and rests his forehead against yours to make eye contact, “don’t push it.”
“Too late, Cho.”
☆ - GUINEA PIG HYBRID READER FT MULTIPLE JJK MEN !
╰┈➤ includes; gn! hybrid reader, mainly focused on reader squeaking and the guys falling heads over heels all over again, mentions of eating food
╰┈➤ a/n; this fic is heavily inspired by @appleblueberry-pie s’ post on Guinea pig hybrid reader with jjk men, tysm for letting me use this for a fic 🧡
SATORU GOJO
when satoru first met you, he was instantly in love
you’re guessing that it’s mainly due to your unusual features such as small ears and a tiny barely noticeable tail
he hasn’t seen many hybrids in the sorcerer world, other than panda
one thing that gave him a huge fright was when you first squealed out of nowhere when he brought home some sweet treats
he was very concerned that you were in pain or injured in some way, only to be relieved once told you involuntarily tend to squeal when you get excited
after this experience he tries his best to excite you when possible, since he can’t get enough of your squeaks
always refrains from just squishing your cheeks together in response
man wants to keep you in his pocket
GETO SUGURU
enjoys hearing your squeals
he becomes extra soft when he hears them
one second he’s tearing down another pathetic useless monkey
and the next he’s practically cooing as you squeal in happiness once he comes back from his cult to visit you
you also tend to purr like a cat, especially when he sits you on his lap
his heart fucking melts
loves giving your ears little scritches since it makes you practically vibrate on top of him whilst putting like a lil’ kitty
if you’re unable to speak whilst squealing then he doesn’t mind, he actually finds it enduring how you can’t talk when squealing in joy
yes his daughters also love you so much, they both think you’re the cutest thing they’ve ever seen
NANAMI KENTO
man damn near shat himself the first time you started squeaking
it was when he came home from the usual sorcerer work, and he had a fresh loaf of bread to share with you
you just couldn’t hold back your excitement
you were so embarrassed afterwards, hiding your face behind your hands as nanami looked at you with concern
stuttering, you explained to him that you tend to squeak uncontrollably when you get excited
nanami finds it relaxing when you perch yourself on his lap and start purring in content
he low-key finds it very therapeutic and it helps him destress after a hard day at work
he finds it very cute and unique how you make certain noises when feeling different emotions, gives you more character in his book
won’t admit it but he always finds himself with a little smile plastered on his face when around you
TOJI FUSHIGURO
he’s such a meany about your squeaks :(
always teases you whenever you make animal noises
“aww, you happy to see me sweet thing? why didn’t you just say so?” he’ll coo whilst squishing your cheeks together before giving you a small yet sloppy kiss onto both cheeks
your squeaks scare him at times, but you won’t hear that from him
sometimes he’ll just be chilling then all of a sudden loud ass squeals echo throughout the house and he nearly has a heart attack
actually enjoys hearing you purring, especially sat on his lap
9 times out of 10 pretty much forces you on his lap or chest when you start purring
he actually seems to become less stiff and more calm when you purr on him
sometimes forgets you’re a hybrid and so gets a small surprise when he spots your lil ears on top of your head
CHOSO KAMO
has never in his 150 years of life seen a hybrid at all
very curious of your existence
will ask lots of questions even when you get into a relationship, he’s just a really curious fella what can he say?
he asks them so that he understands you better
when you first squeaked was when he gave you a small kiss on the lips, he was worried he did something wrong
only to be proven wrong when you snuggle up against the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around his body whilst your squeaks slowly but surely turn into content purrs
he melts into your embrace, he’s never felt this content in life other than when he’s with his brothers
your squeaks give him serotonin, he can’t live without your squeaks
enjoys how when he makes spaghetti that you start squeaking even before the foods ready, he concludes that you simply enjoy food so much
SUKUNA RYOMEN
claims that your presence annoys him to no end, especially your squeaks and purrs
then when you stop making those noises around him he feels…. sad?
not even an hour later and he’s telling you that he actually doesn’t mind your noises, low key is fond of them, but he won’t straight up admit he likes them, he’s too far up his own ass to admit when he likes something
he has probably seen hybrids at some point during his thousand plus years of existence, but even he’s aware of how rare hybrids are in the jujutsu world
your happy squeaks make him feel things he’s never felt before
the same goes for your purring
if he’s been gone for a long amount of time, you’ll rush up to him and embrace his muscular body as tight as possible whilst you purr which causes your body to vibrate against his
he finds it weird how your body vibrates when you purr
© content belongs to @huboi on tumblr, DO NOT REPOST ON ANY SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS WHATSOEVER
new year, new choso. / choso nye fic
pairing: choso kamo x f!reader ( jujutsu kaisen ) word count: 1.9k summary: Choso Kamo has never been to a New Year's Eve party. Who knew chaperoning his kid brother to Gojo's Jujutsu High party would end up like this? tags: new year's eve kiss, nye party fluff, choso is a sweet baby angel goth, and he's wearing a suit, alcohol, mentions of cards against humanity credit: dividers by @saradika dedicated to @nube55 , @sixpennydame , and @chishiyasan xo
welcome to the final day of the twelve days of amymas !!
New Year’s Eve parties are typically not your thing.
Loud music, bustling crowds, crowded rooms with crowded strangers — the whole debacle always sounded like a recipe for disaster.
Ieiri claimed that this gathering would be different. Small.
Albeit still a party by Gojo Satoru’s standards as his entire penthouse is littered with tacky balloons, confetti, and endless amounts of blinking year-end sunglasses, but tamer than anticipated.
It’s probably something to do with the fact that said gathering included his students from Jujutsu High.
The teenagers all crowd in the dead center of the living room excitedly playing Cards Against Humanity while Gojo's colleagues and friends mingle about the main floor.
(There’s just something about watching a cursed panda argue that his cards are accurate to the prompt as opposed to the obscene and filthy winners — ironically, a silent kid with cursed speech tattoos holds the jackpot of black cards.)
You were once destined to become a sorcerer yourself, but you’d hung it up for a simpler life. Not unlike your best friend, Shoko, but not as close to the Jujutsu world.
Then again, you never really get away from this life. Not really.
(Only thirty minutes left until the new year.)
“Did you need a refill?”
The gentle question comes out of nowhere to your side, breaking your concentration of the rowdy game.
When you turn your head, you’re immediately taken by a dark-haired man with a thin, black strip covering the bridge of his nose like a blush. He wears a maroon button-up, satin to the eye, and a dark suit jacket to compliment his pale complexion. His shoulder-length dark hair is in a half up-do, fixed hastily in a tiny bun at the crown of his head.
Your first thought? He’s beautiful.
Your second thought? You find yourself staring for too long, lips parted with an answer you’ve all but forgotten.
The man blinks back at you, shuffling in the uncertain silence.
“I, uh — sorry, I probably should have said ‘hello’ like a normal person and —”
“Uh, sure, I could walk with you?” you blurt, hating yourself for the way his eyes round with his own bout of confusion. “For a refill. I’m getting kind of stiff sitting against this wall.”
He’s a stranger, even if it’s technically a friend’s party.
You’ve been taught from birth that you should take care of your own drinks — but that doesn’t mean you can’t accompany someone as alluring as him to go grab a new mixed drink.
God knows Gojo bought out the entire liquor store despite how seventy-five percent of the party can’t drink and, the irony, Gojo doesn’t drink.
(An overachiever even in the art of hosting, Shoko joked before she dipped for a smoke break.)
Right.
You're dissociating.
Back to the guy in front of you.
“And hi,” you add lamely after a beat.
The stranger fights a smile, choosing to rush a small huff of air.
“Hi. Name's Choso Kamo,” he awkwardly introduces. “And yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
He fidgets with a button of his dress shirt, popping it absently.
“Feels a little crowded here.”
"A little," you agree, gesturing for him to show the way.
Shoulder to shoulder you both walk to the drink table, not saying a word.
You note how the stranger — this Choso — keeps his eyes on the table of kids as they heavily debate which answer should win: the cold, dead fingers card dropped by a triumphant Kugisaki, versus the Daniel Radcliff’s delicious asshole card slipped in by a stone-faced Megumi.
“Dying to join in on the game?” you joke, trying to break the slow-building tension.
“Hmm? Oh. God, no. I’m not getting involved in that war.” The man blinks to you, his expression softening for a moment. “My kid brother’s over there.”
“Which one is he?”
Choso smiles small, clearly proud to point him out.
He fills his cup with a moderate amount of rum and soda, mixing it with a wooden stirrer.
“The pink-haired one. Yuji.”
Yuji isn’t hard to spot, not by a long shot.
He’s giggling between Megumi and Kugisaki, joyously playing moderator to the budding fight for who has the best card this round.
When you turn back to Choso, you see his smile has widened.
“He’s got his work cut out for him if he’s the Card Szarr this round," you say.
Choso laughs breathily and takes a sip. “Yeah, his friends are a little brutal. Good kids, but… opinionated.”
(As proudly displayed by the way the finalists shout at one another. Yuji laughs hard, shaking his head — only to pull a major upset by choosing the panda’s card instead.)
“He’s the only reason I’m here,” Choso adds belatedly, seemingly wishing to keep the conversation going. “I’m not exactly friends with the guy who threw this thing.”
“Who, Gojo?” you ask. He nods. “Me neither. My best friend managed to drag me out of my cave. Not sure if you know her — Shoko Iieri?”
Choso shakes his head.
“Can’t say I do. Then again, I could say that about everyone. I only really came so my brother and his friends had a chaperone home." He straightens once he's done filling his drink. "I take it you don’t normally do these things, either?”
“That’s nice of you,” you comment, filling the rest of your drink before clinking the glass to his. “And no, I kind of hate parties. Way more of a quiet environment sort of person.”
“You and me both,” he commiserates. “Believe it or not, this is my first New Year’s Eve out.”
“Really? Your first, ever?”
He nods. “It’s a little complicated. Jujutsu shit.”
The words make you accidentally bark out a laugh, startling Choso.
He warms to it, however, and laughs with you.
“Jujutsu shit is very much something I can’t seem to get away from,” you explain.
“Guess I found the one person at this party that gets me,” Choso admits with a dissolving chuckle, the black strip on his nose sprinkled with a gentle pink blush at his confession. “Yuji was pretty insistent on making it a big deal, given it’s my first real holiday outing. We spent Christmas just with the two of us this year — sorry, am I talking too much?”
You sip your drink and shake your head. “I like listening.”
It’s the truth: this man is interesting.
Clearly he’s not completely of this realm, that much you’re quite certain of, but he’s truly trying to be human.
Choso fumbles, but he’s honest about his experience.
It’s a refreshing taking on a world you’ve become so cynical about.
“I usually don’t talk this much,” he admits; his second confession of the night. He sighs and shakes his head. “Anyway, yeah. Christmas was solo, but he wanted to do this big party with his friends. Begged me to come along. New Year’s is an interesting idea, but the traditions… I don’t know.”
He squints at nothing in particular as he thinks.
“There’s so much I want to try now that I’ve got this life.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I have the drinking part down,” he tells you, glancing down at his glass and outfit. “I dressed up, though given what everyone else wore—”
Sweaters. Jeans. Nothing fancy — not like him.
“—I think I screwed that part up.”
“I think you look amazing, for what it’s worth,” you blurt, and he catches your eye with an appreciative glow.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, suits always look good.”
Choso grins, albeit briefly, yet the growing confidence lingers.
“Party games, though I’m happier to watch than play right now. Then there’s that New Year’s kiss thing?”
Oh.
He turns to you for confirmation, but you damn well know your face is on fire from the implication.
“When the clock strikes midnight, you’re supposed to kiss someone," he explains like you're new to this, too. "Make a wish or promise or whatever so that the next year is going to be better.”
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He leans in a fraction further, dropping his voice to a murmur. “That's what I heard, anyway.”
You’re expecting him to have a but scoot into that sentence, but he pauses to search your face for the right or wrong answer.
“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” you admit — it's now your turn to confess.
His brows furrow. “Really? Never?”
You shake your head. “Maybe that’s why my years have been so shitty lately.”
Choso nods with a grave understanding. “Could be.”
A few of the teenagers cheer, abandoning the game to turn on the main television.
The clock is only a few minutes until midnight.
Three, to be exact.
Suddenly the drink in your hand becomes your life line.
“I admit that I didn’t know if you needed a refill on your drink,” Choso pipes up, slow and careful. You turn your attention from the television broadcast to look at him. “I only came here to make sure Yuji had a good time with his friends, but then I saw you come in with that woman.”
Wait, he saw you come in?
When you say nothing, he sucks in a sharp inhale to explain himself.
“I spent an hour working up the courage to come talk to you. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You’re so damn pretty, and you seemed fine hanging out by yourself or with her, and so I thought — I mean, I needed a refill and some liquid courage — so it — do you get what I’m saying?”
No, no you don’t and yes, yes you do.
“You’re very pretty yourself,” you tell him without thinking, causing his eyes to widen. Yours follow suit, rounding like saucers. “I mean — yeah, as soon as I noticed you, I thought you were attractive—”
“People go out for coffee, right?” he interrupts as if he’s been waiting all night to ask. “When they think someone is pretty, they… go out for coffee or dinner or walks.”
One minute remaining.
Choso pauses to stare into your eyes, earnest and true.
“I’d love to go out for some coffee, or whatever dinner you want, or even just a walk. Maybe. Some time. If you’re… free.”
A date.
Forty seconds until the new year, and you’ve already scored yourself a date.
“We could do one of those things,” you murmur. Choso’s face brightens. “Maybe all of them. And we could start it off with…”
Twenty seconds.
“Making a wish?” the dark-haired man suggests when you trail off, rounding towards you so he’s closer.
For someone who says he has a lot to experience, you’re surprised that he seems to cage you in with experience.
If it wasn’t for his eyes begging you to confirm that this is what you want, then you’d think maybe he was a liar.
“Yeah. For a great new year,” you explain, lifting your chin.
Ten seconds.
“For a great new year,” he exhales with a promise, leaning in.
His hand reaches to gently cup your face as though mesmerized by how soft your skin feels beneath his palm.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The clock strikes midnight, and a pair of plush, timid lips gingerly press to yours.
You meet with an eager kiss, and you swear you feel Choso’s mouth curve into a satisfied smile against yours.
(Maybe next year really will be better.)
please haunt me choso i need- ghost choso trying to be a menace and then failing at that because he's just precious like that i wanna nom nom this the kinda shit i dig- doomed.
Listen to Ghosting by Mother Mother for the full effect 🗣️ or don't, I'm not your mom.
Ghost!Choso drabble thing. No warnings. Enjoy 😙
Choso has lived in this house far, far, longer than you have. He's seen families come and go, kids outgrow their clothes and move out, leaving behind too-quiet spaces for their parents to fill.
He's seen fights, too many, but he's also seen love.
That is what you'd done for him. Shown him love.
And you didn't even know it.
He was irritated when you moved in. He'd driven so many people out, finally got the damn place to himself, just for this? For you? Living on your own after a breakup, apparently. He follows you the first few days, grimacing when he watches you unpack everything. Why'd you need so much... stuff?
Everything had a place, and you knew where it all was, all of the time.
So, naturally, he started to move it. One thing at a time, little by little. You'd find your toothbrush in the kitchen, or your indoor shoes on the porch. To his utter annoyance, you didn't care.
You'd just make a little noise of excitement when you found what you were looking for and take it back with you.
So, naturally, he starts slamming doors. Knocking things over. If you didn't know any better, you'd think you were being haunted by somebody's shitty cat.
This is how Choso learned you're scared of loud noises. He thought, maybe, that he'd be satisfied with your terror - but he wasn't. Not even for a second.
The first time he slams a door, it's the one to the bathroom. Things rattled and threatened to fall off the racks. He'd heard your yelp from upstairs and grinned to himself. When he went to see how scared you were, he realized that you were crying.
The feeling caught in his throat, like your tears were his, and he just... stood there. He couldn't touch you, but he wanted to, and that alone made him disappear from your bedroom.
After that, he started following you again. Months passed. Then a year, two, and the whole time, Choso was right behind you as long as you were home.
He used to cause your nightmares by standing over you when you'd sleep, watching you get tangled in your sheets or waking up with a heaving chest, only to realize nothing was actually there.
Then, before he knew it, he was soothing your nightmares instead. Petting your hair and hushing you, almost sounding like a breeze was flowing through the old home.
It took him three and a half years to figure it out, but it hit him hard when he did.
He loved you.
For the first time in his afterlife, he wanted to share his space with a person. He wanted to see you, hear you, experience your life right alongside you.
And you didn't even know it.
In my perspective, Choso is a man who could genuinely become lovesick and insane for you.
There’s nothing more that he seeks from life. You’re it. Tears fill his eyes in quiet moments when he thinks about just how lucky he is. How perfect you are for him. Just your pure existence alone brings the man to heaving breaths and panicked hands running through his hair, silently longing for his mind to just shut up and his heart to calm down. He’s… slightly terrified of you, actually.
Terrified of how unaffected he feels when thinking about hurting someone for you. Of the happiness he feels swell in his heart when he thinks about ending his own life to see a smile on your face. The sheer influence your eyes have over his body; how they increase the amount of blood running through his body, how they dot sweat across his hairline, creates a tremble in his lip and hands, the tears, oh the tears. They come in waves, when the realization that he is completely and wholly devoted to you hits him once again.
He’s also terrified of the power your lips have over his thoughts. It’s a little disturbing how often his mind will wander to the wonderful thing that is your lips. You make him want nothing more than to talk to you for hours on end— with the way your lips move, the way they form letters and words and sentences… he can’t stand the thought of him saying more than five words at a time. It’s truly just a waste of his breath if it’s taking away from the sight of your lips moving. His search history is full of questions such as “deep conversation prompts”, and “how to get someone talking for hours”. Watching your lips form such precious conversation that he stores deep in the crevices of his memory, can send the man into a fit of pure psychosis. The thought of your lips on his has yet to cross his mind; just the beauty and shape and color of your lips bring him to his knees on its own. But when it does, he has to physically hold his chest. It occurs when he’s watching a movie with Yuuji one night, the boy had long since fallen asleep on the armchair, leaving Choso to view the film he had no sort of desire to see, but had yet to switch off. He couldn’t care to remember the name, something corny. But when he saw the female actress pull the male actor into an embrace, her hands spread across his cheeks as she brought him towards her— their faces drew together slowly, his eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips, Choso found himself leaning forward on the couch, eyebrows slightly furrowing in anticipation. And there was a pause. A pause between the two actors, before their lips laid on the other’s.
A short breath of air escaped the man as he stared at this seemingly private moment, but he couldn’t look away. The way the man’s hands slithered up to cup her face so carefully, tilting his head to get more of her, to feel more of her… oh he couldn’t take it. Choso quickly switched off the TV, as if it offended him, staring at the black screen as he reflected on what he had just witnessed. Sure, he was familiar with kisses. He had accidentally seen a young couple or two wrestling with their tongues in an all too inappropriate setting. He’d always avert his eyes quickly, feeling uncomfortable and invasive. But he’s never seen it like that. Although it was shot with a script in mind, the care and the intimacy in that kiss were too heartbreaking for him at that moment, he had to clutch the skin above his heart in fear that the rapid rhythm would soon kill him. The fact that it was nothing more than a job for them, and yet there was still that amount of passion—but as he continued to think and reflect, the actors’ lips morphing into his own, and the actresses into yours— he let out an audible sound of agony, throwing his back against the back of the couch, finding himself mourning over the loss of his free will over his heart, his life. Saddened for the loss of his sanity, feeling nothing but joy at your control of his soul… he knew that was far from sane thinking.
Those lips, paired with your voice, oh he’s genuinely going to throw up. He gets sick at the sound of his own voice at some point. The fact that he’s speaking right now, as is in he’s preventing your pretty voice from filling the air and blessing his ears, is truly sickening. He wishes he could just transport his responses and conversation prompts into your brain, so you never have to pause your talking. He could never get bored of your talking. Every word you speak, every thought you convey, every joke that you tell (that sometimes flies over his head. but he laughs anyway.) is kept away in his poor, aching heart for safekeeping, he adores every single sound out of your lips. He knows there are times where you don’t want to speak, and that’s more than okay with him. He’ll gladly fill in the air with nonsense, or let the silence keep its place in the room, he doesn’t mind. The communication between your eyes is enough to fill the conversation for both of you.
He stares a lot. Like… a lot. But he can’t help it, and he’s certainly not going to stop. How could he just ignore your presence like that? To ignore your deep eyes, the curve of your nose, the sweet color of your lips, and the rise of your throat as you swallow your dinner would be a transgression he wouldn’t dare commit. It’s an insult to you and to himself to look away from you. The overpowering beauty that is you is an art that must be gazed upon, and to be admired. To be awed at. To be wept over, to be absolutely crazy about. And he was all of the above. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring at you far too long than what’s considered normal. It’s like you’re a character on a screen, and he’s a hopeless viewer, gushing over how addicting this character is, obsessively creating fantasies full of you you you, unable to break free of your voice, the shape of your face, the sight of your smile. But he isn’t a spectator, he’s here, he’s with you, and you’re with him. He can touch you (if he so dared… he doesn’t think he has the heart to invade your personal space.), he can speak to you, and you can respond. The realization that you’re not a silly figment of his imagination, or cast for a role on a screen he can only spectate, sends him into a spiral.
You control everything about him. Every thought, every pump of his enslaved heart, every tear that falls from his lovesick eyes, is all for you. You carry his heart, soul, and very existence in those (precious, pretty, delicate, oh he just wants to kiss every knuckle—) hands of yours. He’d beg for you, he would get on his hands and his knees and put his head to the ground as he just pleads for you… anything you wanted, he’d do it. You torment his life, his very being, and he craves for more.
He’s yours, he’s yours.
im soo normal about choso el oh el
Choso adores your eyes.
The way they reduce in size when you smile so brilliantly. The kindness in them when you offer him solace in his times of despair. When they widen in surprise when Yuuji attempts to scare you when popping up around a random corner. And even when they fill to the brim with tears when confessing something so deep and dark about your past. Although there’s nothing more he despises than seeing you cry, he can’t help but love the way they shine with the dim lights of your room. The way he knows they respond to his own eyes. The way you two converse between your calm gazes.
Choso adores your lips.
It isn’t fair how easy it is for him to fall into a fit of distress when he sees you applying your products onto your lips. He’s never more self-aware of how much of an utter fool he is for you when he sees a smile form on your mouth. And when you bite your lip, oh, this must be what insanity feels like.
Choso adores your laugh.
“You laugh and spring goes right out of style.” Choso has never felt anything truer. How such a simple sound can make a man's knees tremble is beyond him. And how often he seeks that same sound when attempting to make jokes that are funny to you, is also far beyond his understanding. You wonder why Choso quickly had to turn his phone screen away from you when you asked him to search something up for you, not realizing that he was exiting out of several tabs of “funny jokes to make a girl laugh”, and “why does she make me nervous”, and “long-lasting deodorant” (he sweats so much around you. he hopes you don’t notice.).
He's so carefully observant of you. He wants to notice everything that you do. Every habit, every routine. He wants to know you. He wants to know your every opinion and intention; it aches that he can never experience your every thought. No word or compliment could ever be enough for you, could accurately describe the extent of his desire for you. How could he insult you with the mixture of gibberish he creates with his sloppy and unpoetic words? To think that you should have to hear such tragic and pathetic declarations truly makes his heart corrode into ruin. He instead lets his gentle eyes talk to you. He lets the tender touch of his trembling hands on your sweet face speak for him. He lets the firm and palpitating rhythm of his hurried heart converse with yours. He lets his love communicate for him. Words will by no means be enough.
Choso adores you.
this was literally supposed to be a paragraph long
anyway just love the idea of obsessive choso and him over describing things its just so cute
Choso refuses to gift you the beating core of his lifeblood housed inside his chest, or the inner expanse of knowledge and thoughts he called his brain. He fears that his heart is too finite, his mind too frail. These appendages are far too dishonorable for you, bound by the chains of mortality and human vulnerability. It is only his soul that would suffice, along with the promise of his essence to you, that could be worthy enough to be submitted to you. Only the substance of his spirit could go on after death. And for that, he yields it to you.
poetic choso is ruining my life rn
kamo choso, who can’t stand to look away from you, afraid on the possibility that he might somehow forget what you look like. every time he glances away to look back at the tv, or the food that’s slowly but surely charring to an inedible state on the stove, he misses you. he misses your eyes, your lips, the gentle flutter of your eyelids (it’s worrying how fascinated he is even with the way you blink.), the continual rise and fall of your chest as you steadily breathe in that oh so blessed air. and when he realizes he’s starting to envy a mixture of gases, he looks back at what he’s doing. but it’s as if you’re subconsciously calling his name, swaying him to once again look at you. it becomes so overwhelming that he hasn’t the faintest idea what he was preoccupied with before... and before he knows it, he’s staring at you again, and he’s back at square one.
any moment he’s not looking at you are moments spent in anxiety and unnecessary panic, scared to miss even one lazy yawn from you. he misses you so intensely, he feels with his whole self. even when you’re just a few feet away from him.
“did you need something?” your pretty eyes are now set on him. it’s almost comical how fast he works up a sweat under his arms, paired with an urgent pounding in his chest. he’s embarrassed to be caught staring, nervous under your precious gaze, but he can’t help but observe you even more intently. how can one’s eyes be so complex? it’s such a simple color. plain, really. but a sting in his heart calls your orbs anything but ordinary, so soothing and yet, so agonizing—
“oh, no. no… just— keep doing what you’re doing, hm?” he looks back down at his phone from the opposite couch where he sat, the screen black from its inactive state (he much rather prefers to watch you. and if you aren’t near, he prefers to think about you. …his screen time is astonishingly low.), cold and heavy in his hands. he quickly, but subtly, glances back up to see your reaction.
you throw him a small smile, looking back at the television.
oh, he’s gone, gone, gone.
choso loves to listen to you.
not only do you seem to talk about the most interesting things he’s ever come across (i.e., what you had for dinner last night.), but your voice creates a warmness in him he didn’t know was possible. he used to think he didn’t like to listen to people talk, chat, or rant. hearing the pointless murmuring chatter in public transportation or at some random restaurant only proved this point further. but the moment you started to review your day with him for the first time, he couldn’t get enough. he truly wishes you never stop talking.
it's so pleasing to him, a precious sound that he couldn’t hold closer to his heart if he tried. You’re like his little songbird, the melody being your sweet, sweet voice. how much more loveable could you get? there isn’t a single aspect about you that he couldn’t see himself daydreaming about for hours straight. he loves the idea of you being a cute little songbird, truly, but he’s sure that the word… siren is better suited.
you lure him in, hypnotizing him with your smiles and your charm. your call alone beckons and seduces him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the trance that was your voice. he’s powerless to fight the allure of your call, wrapping him in a blanket of dulcet melodies and tuneful cries. but in actuality, sinking him further into the depths of you.
he could drown, for all he cares. if it meant being consumed by nothing but the essence of your voice, he welcomes death with open arms and a smile.
i wanna write for other characters but choso is the only one i can write as mentally ill for his lover n it still feels canon idk
choso was a full-grown man.
a man who takes cares of his brothers, is employed, and pays his taxes. a man who can share his ideas and his thoughts with professionalism and skill. a man who can admit when he’s wrong, who can let his resentment go for the better.
so imagine his confusion when he acts like nothing but a developing teenager when you were around him.
he truly felt like his body had relapsed back to puberty. he can’t control his sweat around you, he’s switched his deodorant three times before finding something long lasting enough (although he barely spends more than a couple hours around you a day, if even that, and yet he still manages to produce so much sweat—). he can barely make eye contact with you without feeling his face grow hot (shooting down his neck, goodness, he has to fan at his face soon or he'll start sweating and he just showered for you—), a tremble in his hands, a trip in his words. the sentences that so ridiculously tumble out of his mouth are ineligible and humiliating, as if he forgot every single word he’s ever learned.
he talks to himself often.
whether it’s him walking on the way back home from your hangout, or when he’s alone at work, choso talks to himself. he walks alone and speaks your name out loud, a small awkward smile on his lips (even hearing the splendid name from his own throat dusts his cheeks pink.). he rants and analyzes how physically impossible it was for anyone to be as lovely as you. frustrated muttered outbursts of his incompetence around you. questions about if he was normal, if what he was feeling was normal (he concluded no.). these thoughts are too much to be confined within his mind, overflowing so much at the seams, he was afraid he would accidentally speak them aloud to you. so, he verbally lets them out when he’s alone, before his mouth gets the best of him. he never feels further from sanity when he talks to himself. but since it’s about you, well… it makes him feel better pretty quickly.
he writes about you.
talking to himself and thinking about you only helped him so much. he still feels a nervousness in his chest, needing to convey these feelings in some other form. so, he started scribbling little notes about you on napkins at restaurants and cafes, soon throwing them away; but he soon garners a deep hatred for this. anything that reminds him of you, anything at all, whether it be from his own hand or out in the world, has to be cherished. If not, what sort of insult is it to you? so, he buys a notebook. it’s a small one, black and dull, pocket sized so he can write about you whenever he so pleases. the first few entries are sloppy and messy, hurried so he could get the thought out before it slips his mind. but he soon grew a hatred for this as well. even thoughts written about you must be written with such a delicacy and care, even though you’ll never see it.
012324
When you look at me,
I forget that this world is capable of hatred and misery.
How could a being so light and pure,
Exist next to a miserable soul such as I?
the more i write about choso the less i feel i should be walking the streets as a free citizen. put me in a padded room, im not okay
"you’re so precious to me.”
you look up at choso, who in turn was looking back at you. you didn’t realize he had been staring at you, quite invested in the meal he had just prepared for you two. looking down at his plate, you notice that it was untouched. shifting your gaze back to him, you had to physically flinch at the pure, unadulterated adoration in his tired gaze. looking back down bashfully, you pushed your food around on your plate, unable to help the smile that bloomed on your face.
before you could react, choso had reached over the small table, soft hand wiping at your cheek faintly. you look over to see him withdrawing, a tender look in his eyes. “did I have some food on my cheek?” you questioned, wiping the other side of your face, observing your hand for any crumbs.
“no.”
you look back at him in slight surprise. “oh.” was all you could lamely say. it was hard having such an affectionate boyfriend at times; he was constantly outperforming you in terms of love. you know a relationship was supposed to be anything but a competition, but he couldn’t even speak straight. its literal pure poetry falling from the mans mouth. how could you measure up to that?
“i love you, you know.”
you look down at your plate intensely as you say this, unable to look him in the eyes. even his mere eye contact felt deeper than your simple words of, “i love you”. you see him rise from his seat out of your peripheral, but you still stubbornly stared down at your warm plate of food, which you’re sure he poured some of his literal soul and spirit into (even food outdid you…). feeling a warm hand guide your face, you look up to see that familiar soft gaze on you once again, filling you with the type of warmth only felt by a million suns.
he cupped both of your cheeks, bending down to look at you closer. you didn’t even have to say anything, his eyes already telling you that your love is enough. more than he needed, than he deserved. leaning forward, his warm lips placed themselves between your brows, longer than he needed to. he pulled back, only by a hair, to whisper his professions.
“i want to say you have my heart, but you are my heart.” he kisses your face once more, a little further down from the last kiss.
“there’s nothing and nobody else that I need.” another kiss, further down again.
“i surrender my everything to you.” another kiss, landing on your cheek.
“do you know how long I’ve prayed, begged, for your lips?” your other cheek.
“you own me. you, and you alone. you own me.”
you at first thought choso to be a quiet man, shy even. a person unskilled with his words. and yet… you’ve never seen anyone more assured, confident, and certain than him when he spoke to you like this. to know that the one thing this man was undisputable about was his adoration for you… well, it spoke to your soul in a way no store bought flowers ever could.
he punctuates the absolutely devastating confession with one last glance to your lips. you notice his eyebrows are furrowed, his voice strained. you swear these confessions hurt him somehow.
he plants his lips on yours with a sweet inhale, slowly breaking away just to reconnect his mouth to your own, over and over. the kiss was languid, syrupy, and filled to the brim with adoration. he pulled away slowly, his nose still brushing against yours.
"i love you.”
yeah. he was better at this than you.
i need to stop and go study omg
your eyes fluttered open, the sudden feeling of warmth above you waking you from your sleep.
you open your eyes to see choso above you, his arms framing your head, pulling back from his kiss on your forehead. your eyes squinted from the light streaming in the room, reflecting on his face that softly smiled down at you. he looked like the sweetest angel, but you could barely appreciate it through the fogginess of your post rested state.
“good morning. I’m sorry to wake you, but I really couldn’t wait to see you.” he apologized softly, his hand coming up brush your cheek. you sighed at the contact, feeling yourself growing more awake as the time passed. “good morning, choso. it’s alright, I should be up anyways.” you groggily responded while sitting up, causing him to shift, now sitting by your knees. “happy valentines day.” he smiled warmly. you smiled back, now remembering that this is his first valentines with a lover, and you started to understand his eagerness to spend the morning with you. you wished him the same, stretching and yawning. choso rested his hand on your cheek once more, and you blink in surprise at the sudden seriousness in his expression.
“in truth, today means nothing to me.”
you flinch at the bluntness of his words. “Um—?”
"please, don’t mistake my dismissal of this holiday for dismissal of our love. I mean it in the way that…,” he paused for a second, his eyes drifting down to your lap, thinking. “I’d be sickened with myself if my affection for you couldn’t even transcend the 14th of february. no teddy bear, no hallmark card, no rose in the world could ever even begin to show my adoration for you. The love I feel can't be boxed and tied up with a bow, and gifted to you on a single date of the year. Even 365 days is not virtually enough time to give you the feelings I have. my love for you is boundless, vaster than any sky, and deeper than any ocean.”
your mouth opened, then closed again. he just made that up on the spot? and really… how does he expect you to respond when he gets like this? “ocean’s can only go so deep, choso.” you teased, holding his chin. and with that, his face morphed into the sweetest smile you’ve had the pleasure of seeing, his tone sincere.
“I’d claw at the oceans floors until my fingers bled. and then I’d keep digging, into the very depths of hell, to expands its depths. but even then… the distance couldn’t hold an iota of what I feel for you.” and he meant that.
“I love you, and I wish I could tell you how much I love you. but there aren’t enough words in the world to say it, no language eloquent or evocative enough to ever even begin to convey just how I feel looking into your eyes. the eyes which… could make even the mute, inanimate moon tell all her secrets to. in all honesty, I’m so scared that if any man in passing meets this terrifying gaze, he too will fall into insanity, like I have.”
“how do you even come up with this stuff?” you say exasperatedly, shaking your head at your lack of a better response. he shrugged. “even an illiterate man could recite words of Shakespeare in grand verse, if he were only so lucky to have the privilege of seeing your smile.”
“...it’s 9 in the morning. please, at least give my heart the chance of getting through breakfast.”
ngl i kinda hate this but i cant come up with anything better rn..
i wish you all a happy valentines day, i hope you find nothing but love and adoration !