heavenlyscandal

[heavenlyscandal]

tattooartist!choso kamo x reader

synopsis: a tattooed confession becomes a love letter—etched not just in flesh, but in the soft spaces where longing once lived unspoken.

warnings: MDNI, explicit, smut, slight voyeurism

choso kamo, whose hands are everywhere all at once—caressing the soft curve of your waist, tracing the outline of your back, memorizing the shape of you like he’s afraid this moment is a dream. each touch is reverent, careful, like you’re a canvas he’s afraid to ruin. but more than anything, he just wants to mark you. not with hickeys, not with fleeting bruises—but with ink. With his art. something permanent. intimate. undeniably his.

he’s always thought tattoos were more sacred than kisses. more honest than words. and right now, your bare skin, warm under his palms, is a blank page begging for meaning.

his hand cradles the back of your neck, his thumb tracing slow circles against your jaw. you shiver—not from the cold, but from the way he touches you like he’s holding something fragile.

you don’t even know how it happened. one moment you were just talking, surrounded by memories and ink-stained sketches, and the next—your lips crashed together like a dam finally breaking. all those years of silence, of could-have-beens, swept away in one desperate, heated kiss.

choso turns you gently, his hands firm around your waist, guiding you to stand. you follow wordlessly, letting him move you how he wants. he sits down on the leather chair—the same one where countless client sat, where art was born from his steady hands. but tonight, it’s different.

he pulls you onto his lap, and you fit perfectly.

choso kamo who looks up at you like he’s seeing a vision, like he still can’t believe you’re real and here and his. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs drawing idle circles into your skin. there’s a tenderness in his eyes, a deep ache, like he’s waited his entire life just for this.

he leans in, lips brushing over the fresh tattoo on your shoulder. he kisses the edges of it softly, worshipfully, the way others might pray. Then he trails upwards, up the curve of your neck, your jaw, until he finds your lips again—slow, lingering.

his hands wander again, never staying still for long. They trace along your sides, mapping you out, committing every line and curve to memory. he wants to draw you, over and over, until he knows every inch by heart.

he breaks the kiss only to plant smaller ones across your face. The tip of your nose. your cheeks. your temples. your forehead. like he’s sealing a promise with each touch. he’s smiling now, wide and full and so unlike the usual stoic choso you used to know.

this is the moment all of choso's quiet dreams finally came true.

choso kamo whose hands went under your shirt, slow and hesitant at first—but you didn’t mind. you leaned into his touch, your breath catching at the feel of his warm palms gliding along your skin. in fact, you wanted him to do that. you craved the closeness, the way his touch felt more like a question than a demand.

your hands found the hem of his shirt, fingers curling around it—not in resistance, but invitation.

he understood.

gently, reverently, he pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it aside. The soft light of the studio fell on him and then you saw it.

tattooed beside his heart, small but deliberate, was a single flower.

forget-me-nots.

your breath hitched, not from surprise but from understanding. of all the things he could’ve chosen, that was the one. a flower that spoke of remembrance. of loyalty. of a love that never truly faded, no matter the time, the distance, or the silence between you.

“since when?” you asked, your voice quiet, fingers brushing over the ink, tracing it as if you could read the meaning from the skin itself.

“after you left. i kept sketching it… couldn’t stop. thought maybe if i made it permanent, it’d hurt less.”

he's honest at his words and you know it.

“i wanted to forget you,” he continued, voice trembling now. “but i couldn’t. i didn’t. so i marked it instead.”

you leaned forward, kissed the tattoo over his heart—softly, tenderly—like sealing a promise between the two of you.

choso kamo who let out the softest sigh at your touch, hands pulling you closer like you belonged nowhere else but there—against him, under his hands, wrapped in his arms.

and now, with your body bare and your hearts finally open, you felt it. the years of silence, of longing, all unraveling in the space between each breath.

choso kamo who asked for permission first, his voice soft and earnest even with desire clouding his gaze. “can I…?” he murmured, fingers hovering just beneath the hem of your shirt, trembling with restraint. And when you gave him that tiny nod, lips parted in anticipation, he exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding—like your trust meant more to him than anything else in that moment.

he took his time, lifting your shirt carefully as if it were fragile. as if you were fragile. and when the fabric was gone and you sat before him in just your bra, something shifted behind his eyes.

he didn’t move at first. he just looked at you.

not in a way that made you shrink or feel exposed, but like he was witnessing a kind of beauty that left him speechless. his gaze lingered on your chest, your skin, the delicate lace barely covering you—and it was like the world slowed down for him.

you could feel how overwhelmed he was by it—not just the sight of you, but the moment of you, the weight of all the years and all the wanting, now so close and real and vulnerable.

when he finally reached out, his hands were reverent. he cupped you gently, thumbs brushing the curve of your breasts over the lace, and he let out a quiet, almost broken breath.

“this…” he whispered, voice low and awed. “you—this is better than anything i ever imagined.” His forehead rested against yours, eyes fluttering closed.

his hands moved to your hips and guided it to move to the pace he wanted, grinding your hips to his prominent bulge. he let out a low moan just by feeling it, imagining how good it willl be when your pussy is wrapped and squeezing around his cock.

choso kamo who couldn't take it anymore and flipped your positions over, he's now hovering above you while you're laid down in the leather chair. he moved between your legs and settled tjere, he looked up at you with a silent permission and you nodded.

he pulled your pants and he just loved the panties you were wearing, his favorite color on you. he looked at it for a second to admire before settling right between, he took your legs and hooked it over his shoulders and smelled it. the scent was just so alluring, he wanted it to be the only scent he smells.

choso kamo who pushed your panties aside and didn't hesitate to lick a stripe right in the middle where your clit is.

"this all for me?" he smirked as he hooked his fingers to the waistband of your panties and pulled it down, he pressed it on his nose and took a huge sniff before setting it aside for him to keep.

he indulges right beween your thighs, sucking and eating your pussy like it's the last thing he'll do to live.

"fuck, you taste so sweet." he said before he dove back in and spreaded your lips by his fingers to just make out with your pussy. "i waited so long for this, baby. worth every second." he talked to your pussy like it's a real person, just mindlessly staring.

he smirked and kissed your pussy again, sucking a little bit and dipped his tongue inside. you couldn't help but grip his hair to push him more, deeper to the spot that makes you moan.

"ahhh… cho." his old nickname rolled of your tongue like honey and he loved it. he pulled back from your pussy and crawled back to hover you.

he leaned down to kiss you again, a passionate, full of love kiss. the pent-up feelings pouring into the kiss. he unbuckled his belt, pulling it aside and took his pants off with his boxers.

he grabbed your legs and wrapped it around his waist, smearing the pre-cum leaking on your entrance. "cho…j-just put it in." you unknowingly whimpered, grabbing his arm and gripped it.

"if you say so, m'lady." he smirked and slowly inserted his cock in your hungry pussy. "f-fuck… so t-tight." he groaned, slowly burying himself inside you until he stretched you out. "is this o-okay?" he asks and you nodded.

he started the pace slow at first, making sure you're comfortable with the stretch. when you moved your hips to urge him to go faster, he saw the signal and fastened the pace.

the leather chair creaked under the both of you, choso was going too fast that you feel like it's gonna break but surprisingly it didn't.

choso kamo who bottomed out when he felt your pussy clenched around his cock. he leaned down and buried his face on the crook of your neck, whimpering as you squeezed him.

"yer squeezing me, baby…" he whined, gripping your hips. "f-fuck i wanted t-this so much… should've… f-fucked this p-pussy sooner." he let out a chuckle, he felt like his cock was surrendering inside her.

he looked up at you. "i m-missed you s-so much… missed y-your pretty face." his face flushed with so much adoration and pleasure. "l-love your… p-pretty face." he was going crazy as he continued to fuck you, peppering your face again with kiss.

"choso." you moaned, your nails raking and scratching his back. "yes, baby?" he smiles, looking so drunk. drunk from pleasure.

"you're g-gonna cum?" he chuckled at his own words, fucking you with a much more vigor. "y-yeah… cho, slow down." you gripped his shoulders but he didn't slow down.

"c-can i cum inside, baby?" he asks, kissing you, observing your beautiful fucked out face. "p-please baby… l-let me c-cum in you… let me s-show you h-how i missed y-you." he became so whiny, so cute.

you nodded and he brutally buried his cock in your pussy, reaching in deep and hitting your g-spot that made you gasp and cum. he felt your pussy milk while he's inside you.

choso kamo who groaned and buried his face on your shoulder and came inside you, painting your insides white and filling you like he had dreamed about.

"p-pretty." he giggled. he put his hand on your stomach, squeezing it a little. "so pretty." he kissed your neck, sucking and leaving little marks on your skin.

after a minute he pulled back and pulled out from your, your mixed cum dripped from your pussy to the leather chair. he grabbed a tissue and wiped it, he helped you up and put his shirt on you. he helped you put your panties and pants again while he admired your body.

he put his clothes back on beside his shirt which you're wearing. "you should come here more often." he smirked, grabbing your hand and guided you to stand. "you okay there?" he chuckled and you nodded.

"i'm alright." you said. he looked down at you with a genuine smile and eyes full of adoration.

"i love you." he whispered, voice barely audible, as if saying it too loud might break the moment. but it didn’t. It made everything fall into place.

his arms wrapped around you, pulling you gently into his chest like he’d been waiting forever to finally hold you this way—with nothing left unsaid. there was a tremble in his hands, not from fear, but from the weight of what he had carried in silence for so long.

you looked up at him, heart racing but steady. “took you long enough to say it.” you teased, your smile soft and glowing, but your eyes said everything—every word you’d been too afraid to say until now.

a quiet laugh escaped him, one filled with relief and disbelief. “i know.” he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “i think I’ve loved you since the day you sat beside me in that art class.”

you leaned into his touch, your hands resting over his heart, right where a delicate flower was tattooed—forget-me-nots, etched just beside the place where he’d always kept you.

“I love you too.” you said again, slower this time, so he could feel every syllable sink in. "please don't leave me again." he silently begged. "i won't."

and in that moment—no more silence, no more waiting—it finally felt like home.

authors note: i'm sorry this took a bit longer but here it is and i hope you like it <3

written by angelonfire | plagiarism not authorized

[heavenlyscandal]

dilf!nanami x female teacher!reader

warnings: MDNI, explicit, smut, nsfw, slight voyeurism, spanking, hair pulling

you don't know how you got into this, bent over on the to your desk office while mr. nanami is behind you, pounding and gripping your ass as your skirt is hiked up to your waist and the buttons of your blouse opened until your breasts are pressed on the desk.

"quite naughty for a pre-school teacher, hm?" kento whispered in a raspy voice, grabbing the back of your head and yanking your hair so your back is pressed on his chest. "good thing you locked the door." he trailed kisses on you neck while his hand groped your breast, pinching your hardened nipple.

"mr. nanami…" you moaned as he sucked your skin on shoulder, biting softly to leave a mark. he knows you'll cover it up but the thought of you seeing it and remembering him turned him on more. "call me that again, sweetheart." he grunted, pushing himself deep into you and you couldn't help and scream but he managed to cover your mouth.

your eyes rolled as he reached your g-spot, repeatedly hitting it with his tip. "we don't want the kids hearing you, right?" he pushed himself again just to make you scream on his hand. "mr. nanami… please." your voice was muffled due to his hand. "please what, sweetheart?"

he removes his hand from your mouth and you fianlly let out the moan you were bottlng up. he smirked when he heard it, groping your ass and smacking it but not too loud, and that resulted you to let out a muffled moan.

he reached for your clit, rubbing it so slowly to tease you. "mngh… mr. nanami… i-i'm gonna…" your voice faltered from the movement of his hips and finger on your clit.

"come on, use your mouth." he rubbed your clit faster this time, thrusting himself more to your clenching pussy. "fuck, sweetheart…. y-you're getting so t-tight."

"come on… j-just say it, i'll give it to you." he whispered so sultry, like a song in your ears that'll make you come. "i-i'm gonna… cum." and right when he heard it, he removed his finger from your clit and hair to press you back in the desk, gripping your hips and started pounding mercilessly while groping your ass and spreading your ass cheeks.

"that's it… f-fuck." he reached down for your clit again. “please… 'm not gonna last" you moaned again, gripping the desk. "then cum, sweetheart. i'm not keeping you from doing that." and when you heard that, you came, toes curling under the desk, pussy clenching around his cock, mouth chanting "mr. nanami" repeatedly.

"f-fuck yeah." he didn't stop thrusting, fucking you through your orgasm. "g-gonna cum inside you, s-sweetheart." he groaned and buried his cock in your pussy, gripping your hips as he painted your walls white, filling you up to the brim.

"about my kid's suspension, i suppose you'll think about it after our discussion?" he asked as he helped you button up your blouse, taking a last look with a smmirk on his face on the hickey he left before it got covered up.

written by angelonfire | plagiarism not authorized

[heavenlyscandal]

tattooartist!choso kamo x reader

synopsis: ink, flowers, and a long-overdue confession

choso kamo who’s just staring at you now, his eyes fixed on yours, frozen in the moment after your question lingers in the air. He doesn’t know how you’ll take it, how he’s just tattooed his unspoken feelings into your skin.

choso kamo who’s still the same quiet guy, the one who hides behind his art because he’s always been too afraid to speak his heart out loud.

choso kamo whose rough but gentle hands hover over the fresh tattoo on your shoulder, the one he inked with so much care that his own heart bled with every stroke. His calloused fingers brush lightly against your skin, sending shivers down your spine that you try desperately to hide.

his breath ghosts over your neck, warm and tantalizing, making your heart race. he’s so close you can feel the warmth of his body, and yet there’s still a chasm of unspoken words between you.

“pansies,” he finally breathes out, his voice low and trembling with vulnerability, “because you occupy my thoughts. every single day. even when you were miles away.”

he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the weight of what he’s about to confess.

“spindle tree flowers,” he continues, his thumb tracing the next bloom he inked on your skin, “because your image is engraved in my heart. permanent.”

his eyes flicker up to yours, dark and desperate, like he’s afraid of what you’ll see now that he’s laid himself bare.

“and blue salvias,” he whispers, his voice rough and unsteady, “because I’m always thinking of you, longing for you even when you didn’t know.”

he points to each flower as he names them, his touch feather-light but lingering like a silent plea. every petal, every line he drew, feels like a secret love letter written in ink and sweat and trembling hands.

“what?” you stammer, your voice cracking under the weight of his words. you’re in disbelief, your mind spinning with the meaning behind every delicate detail he marked on your skin.

choso kamo who’s looking at you now with a sudden, raw longing in his eyes—a desperation that feels both foreign and heartbreakingly familiar. After all these years apart, he’s finally found the courage to bare his soul.

'The thoughts of you come more tender, more beautiful, more blindingly bright than any thoughts that others could ever excite. They tell him gentle tales of the gems of truth that shine through all the beautiful things in your soul—and in your heart.'

he wanted so badly to say these things, to confess the feelings he’s been bottling up for years, but the words catch in his throat.

“you could’ve just told me.” you say softly, and it takes him a moment to process your words.

choso kamo who’s so naïve in love that he can barely comprehend that you’ve just accepted his confession. his heart stutters in his chest, mind reeling with the realization that the girl he’s loved in secret might just feel the same.

his lips part, but the words stick—his voice stolen by the years he’d spent bottling up his feelings. he wants to apologize for waiting so long, for hiding behind sketches and tattoo machines instead of saying it with his own lips.

but then he sees the softness in your eyes, the way your lips curve into a smile that’s small but real—and he knows, deep down, that every unspoken word has finally found its home.

choso kamo who reaches out and takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently. his hand is warm and solid, a grounding weight that steadies the whirlwind in your chest.

you squeeze his hand back, your own fingers brushing his knuckles.

“i’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” he finally breathes, his voice cracking with honesty. all he wants to do is pull you into his arms, to press his lips against yours and let every silent poem he’d written in his heart pour out in that single, shattering kiss.

he stands in front of you, close enough that you can see the flicker of every emotion that crosses his face. the longing. the fear. The love that had always been there, waiting for a moment like this.

you sit on the leather chair, looking up at him with the same longing in your eyes, the same years of unspoken love. you both wanted each other—needed each other—but you’d both been too afraid to say it until now.

choso kamo who’s always been more comfortable showing his feelings through his art than through words, whose every sketch and delicate line had been a confession of the love he was too scared to speak.

and now, with your hand in his and your skin still warm with his mark, he knows he doesn’t have to hide anymore.

His thumb brushes over your cheek as he leans in, his breath mixing with yours, lips so close they’re almost touching.

“can I?” he whispers, voice trembling with the weight of every unspoken word.

and you nod, tears glistening in your eyes, your heart bursting with a love that’s been waiting years to be set free.

and when he kisses you—slow, tender, and desperate—it’s as though every flower he’d tattooed on your skin has bloomed into life, each petal unfurling with every beat of your joined hearts.

authors note: hey, so this is part 3 and i'm sorry for making you wait. anyways, i'll probably upload the last part this week.

written by angelonfire | plagiarism not authorized

[heavenlyscandal]

fem nurse!suguru geto x fem!reader

info: suguru is a female here and this is for the ladies out there who wants to have a good time with her 'cause me too

warnings: explicit, smut, nsfw, slight jealousy, slight voyeurism, reader is a bit possessive

lunch breaks with nurse!suguru weren’t always this eventful, but today? Today was different. She was perched on your lap, straddling you in your plush leather chair, her favorite dildo stuffed deep inside her, the mirror across the room reflecting every delicious detail. anyone could walk in at any moment, but they all knew better, no one disturbed you when you were with nurse!suguru.

nurse!suguru watched herself in the mirror, eyes glassy with pleasure as your hands guided her hips just enough to tease, not to satisfy. her uniform top hung open, exposing her breasts, nipples flushed and hard, while her skirt was bunched around her hips, panties pushed aside to reveal where the dildo nestled inside her slick, glistening, aching cunt

god, you loved the sight of it, her flushed face, the way her body shivered with every subtle movement. she was trying so hard to please you, trying to hold herself together.

“saw you talking to Doctor Satoru earlier,” you murmured, your voice dark with authority, your thumb brushing a circle just above the toy. “thought I told you he’s only after one thing, getting you into his bed.” your tone was possessive, and she found it so fucking hot.

“i—i’m… sorry” she whimpered, her breath catching as her thighs trembled with the effort of holding herself still. “he just… asked me… something.”

“not good enough” She whimpered at the edge in your voice. everyone in the hospital knew nurse!suguru was yours and off-limits to every other doctor, nurse, or patient. they all knew that the only one who could have her was you. but doctor satoru is just a pain in the ass.

you reached up and pinched her nipple, hard enough to make her yelp. “doctor,” she moaned, breathless and needy, her eyes half-lidded in the mirror as her body trembled. “please…”

“please what?” you demanded, your eyes locked on hers in the reflection, watching her drown in pleasure. you gave her a sudden, sharp thrust that made her cry out. “say it.”

“doctor!” she gasped, her voice nearly a sob. you covered her mouth, muffling the sound but not enough that the walls wouldn’t hear. Let them. Let them know who she belonged to.

“f-fuck… me,” she begged, her words slurred with pleasure, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. her walls fluttered around the dildo as her hips jerked helplessly against your steady hands.

a wicked smile curved your lips as you guided her hips, rocking them slowly but with purpose. “good girl,” you purred, sliding the dildo in and out, making her toes curl. “you’re so wet for me.”

her head fell back, eyes rolling, mouth open in a silent scream as you played with her clit, fingers deft and demanding. her breasts bounced with every movement, the way you’d always imagined, and her moans only made you harder.

“doctor,” she whimpered. “i’m— i’m so close…”

“then let go for me,” you whispered, your voice low and dark. You thrust up into her, hard and deep, and she shattered in your lap, her body trembling, legs spasming as the orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. her cries were muffled by your hand, but the sound, the sound was enough to make you moan in satisfaction.

“look at you.” you murmured, letting your hand fall away so you could watch her come undone in the mirror. “so fucking pretty when you’re mine.”

nurse!suguru's breathing slowed, her body still trembling, her head resting on your shoulder. you held her close, the intimacy of the moment electric between you.

authors note: happy pride to all of you out there! <3

written by angelonfire | plagiarism not authorized

[heavenlyscandal]

tattoo artist! choso kamo x reader

synopsis: a reunion at his tattoo shop reveals the depth of his unspoken feelings.

choso kamo who knew you didn’t like the idea of getting tattooed, but still secretly hoped, maybe even believed that one day, you’d walk through his shop doors and ask for one anyway. Not just from anyone but from him. That you’d want his mark. His art. His presence, inked into your skin like a quiet promise. He told himself not to wait and yet he did, he always did.

choso kamo who nearly short-circuits when you actually walk into his shop one late afternoon, sunlight haloing behind you, illuminating your skin that he’s always admired from a distance, skin that, in his words, looks “perfect for ink”

You looked different. Older but you're still you, the girl who once made his fingers twitch with the urge to draw every version of you he could imagine.

“Hi.” You greeted him as if you weren't apart for years. "Do you take walk-ins?”

He’s behind the counter, his mouth parting just slightly. God, he wants to hug you. Wants to say everything like Where have you been? Are you okay? Did you think of me? But he doesn’t.

He just lifts a brow and smirks, slipping effortlessly back into the version of himself you remember.

“Depends. You finally gonna let me tattoo you?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

Just like that, the years that stretched between you crumbled.

choso kamo who leads you past the front desk, past the buzzing needles and music-filled spaces, into his private studio, the one reserved only for his long-time clients, the ones who matter. But you? You’ve always mattered more than all of them.

He gestures to the familiar black leather chair, and you sit, effortlessly at ease. Like you’ve been here a thousand times before.

“So,” he says, pulling on his gloves, “what do you want?”

You glance around the room, hid sketches pinned to the walls, vials of ink lined like soldiers, and the slight scent of antiseptic mixed with the trace of his cologne.

“Something from you,” you reply with a shrug. “Whatever you think fits.”

He pauses but just for a second.

“You trust me that much?”

“Always have.”

Those words hit harder than he expects. And maybe it’s a little pathetic, how quickly his hands still when he hears them. But he nods, quiet, before turning to prep the machine.

choso kamo who already knew exactly what he wanted to give you not just a design, but a piece of himself. Something that speaks where his mouth has failed for years. He lines up the stencil, tests the ink, and doesn’t even need to sketch it again. He’s carried this image in his mind for a long time. His hand guided by his heart and fondness, wanting to make it sentimental not only for him, but for you too.

He tattoos them onto you slowly. Carefully. With the reverence of someone writing a confession in a language only the two of you understand.

His gloved hand supports your arm, thumb pressing just slightly into your skin as the machine hums. You don’t flinch. You trust him. You always have.

The silence between you is warm not awkward, not uncertain but full of everything you both left unsaid for too long.

choso kamo who finally finishes, gently wiping away the last speck of ink, admiring the bouquet now blooming against your skin, his work, his heart, his feelings.

You sit up slowly, glancing down at the piece. Three flowers, delicate but firm, intertwined like a story.

“Does it mean anything?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just stares at the tattoo then at you.

authors note: this is the promised part 2 i hope you like it, also i got a little bit too carried away and made it a bit longer. lastly, this will be a 4 part series so stay tuned. <3

written by angelonfire | plagiarism not authorized

[heavenlyscandal]

tattoo artist!choso kamo x reader

synopsis: a quiet artist-turned-tattooist, Choso Kamo carries a hidden love for his college art partner

choso kamo who’s your classmate, the boy who sat a few rows down in your college art class. Always quiet, intense, focused. You noticed him before he ever noticed you, drawn to the way his hands moved across paper, the way his sketches weren’t just good, they were alive.

choso kamo who became your class partner after a few projects paired you together. At first, it was quiet cooperation. Then, it became something more, shared playlists while you worked, late nights laughing over half-finished canvases, inside jokes scribbled into sketch margins. You didn’t realize how quickly he became your person, neither did he.

choso kamo who fell for you slowly but surely, between shared brushes and coffee breaks, in the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your dreams. He never told you, not directly. But he memorized the way you smiled when he handed you your favorite pen, how your voice softened when you told him his art was brilliant. He didn’t know, he couldn’t have guessed that you felt it too.

choso kamo who studies the language of flowers in his free time, browsing through hundreds of books in the library whenever he could, his fingers tracing delicate illustrations and handwritten notes. Researching every petal, every hidden meaning, he searched for the perfect blooms he’d one day give to someone special — to you. And finally, one late night, he found them, the three flowers that spoke every unspoken word in his heart.

choso kamo who graduated with you but life pulled you both in different directions. You, the girl who loved to travel, who wanted to see the world. Him, the boy with ink-stained fingers and a dream of opening his own tattoo studio. Neither of you confessed. You both didn't because you didn't want to ruin the friendship you both built. You wanted the best for each other, even if that meant walking away.

choso kamo who chased his dream for you, because it was your belief in him that lit the spark. Your words still echo in his mind: “your art deserves to be permanent.” so he made it so. He became a tattoo artist, built a name for himself and pushed through long nights and quiet grief, fueled by the thought of one day tattooing the girl who once looked at his sketches like they were magic.

choso kamo who, a year later, owns his own studio, walls lined with designs he once showed only to you. The clients coming in non-stop and his name whispered with admiration in the tattoo world. He knows he should be content, well he is, but there’s still a quiet pit in his chest, a space shaped exactly like you. The girl who made him believe his art was worth something. The girl who left, not because she didn’t want to stay, but because you both were too scared to speak what mattered most.

authors note: hellooo, this is my first post and i hope you like it. i have been working on these for the past week and making this at school. let me know if you want a part two ^_^ <3

written by angelonfire | plagiarism not authorized