torupinwheels - Tumblr blog

[torupinwheels]

Hee hee more thoughts below the cut ^^ (divider by @/saradika-graphics!)

it starts out slow, as most things do.

you notice little things over the course of growing closer to satoru that confirmed your suspicions of his curmudgeonly ways. of course, he still maintained his childish routines: turning off his infinity to step on ants, sprinting at full speed only to reveal a flyer for the nearby bakery opening he just found, and fixing his features into a deadly pout when you bring up that it’s the third bakery you two have visited today.

again, it was the little things.

namely, the way he slept. being a high school teacher, especially one that taught deadly spiritual arts, must have its toll on a person, you reasoned. it wasn’t new for Satoru to lounge on any reclining chair possible; you once saw him break a desk at Jujutsu Tech in order to fully fit his gargantuan body in it when he thought no one was looking. (of course, his Six Eyes told him you were looking, grinning even. you didn’t count though, he knew you wouldn’t rat him out. he doesn’t think he could be capable of holding a grudge against you even if you did.)

today was no different, even if it was a saturday. although you were both in the middle of a planet of the apes re-run that was “crucial to the world building of the new one, i mean honestly do you have no appreciation for real cinema?”, he immediately settled against your back and knocked out a half second later. you had just smiled and maneuvered yourself with near practiced ease: using one hand to push Satoru’s wispy hair out of his face, allowing the other side of your body to pull out whatever new hobby you felt like indulging whenever he took one of his old man naps.

you cherished little moments like this whenever you got a chance. rare were the moments that you felt peaceful enough to step away from the whirlwind that was the jujutsu world; even rarer were moments that Satoru got to stay home without being interrupted by whatever jujutsu society deemed enough of an inconvenience to call him in. if you were to close your eyes, this was the closest to heaven you could imagine: both your heartbeats in time with the brush strokes of your paper, Satoru’s muscular arms slung over your waist, his breath tickling the air between the back of your shirt collar and your bare skin, the reckless ease in which you could just lean back into his neck an—.

a loud snore startles you out of your thoughts, inadvertently making you spill ink all over the calligraphy kit Ieri bought you. it was a white elephant party gift; she ended up getting a $25 gift card for an upscale steakhouse in Tokyo. you, naturally, bullied Satoru into making it into a round $500.

you frown at the mess, turning around to wake the offender up to face the consequences of his sleeping actions. after all, you grumbled, he wasn’t the only person teaching jujutsu in the entire world. plus it was only 3 pm, hardly a time for record decibel levels of snoring.

his sleeping form stops you in your tracks.

of course, like most people, he looked peaceful in his sleep. boyish features made themselves clear like water from a river, from the slight red of his nose to his cheeks flowing and squishing against the plane of your back. you allow your gaze to lazily drift over the sharp angle of his jaw, softened by the embrace of slumber, down to the corner of his mouth where the tiniest glimmer of drool threatened to spill over onto your neck. still there was something to his expression you had yet to make out. you narrow your eyes and stifle a giggle at the realization.

he was twitching in his sleep. you watch his chest rise and fall for a few more minutes, enraptured with your latest discovery.

your patience pays off. you learn a good amount about your partner in the achingly slow minutes that it takes for your legs to fall asleep.

first, he twitches. thankfully it didn’t look painful but every so often, his face would twitch for seemingly no reason—followed in quick succession by his left knee, his right bicep, and his nose. you take note absentmindedly. sure, it was useless information now but it could prove useful in the future.

secondly, Satoru snores like a man twice his size. at first, you craned your head to see if there was construction around the block because there had to be no way the cacophony bursting your eardrums was coming from the lanky man squished against your back. with a slow cautious glance behind you, it was confirmed: every 45 seconds, after the twitching somehow, he would snore like a man coming off a 12 hour trucking shift. you hopelessly tried leaning away from the noise but to no avail—every time you began moving, it seemed that Satoru’s body knew exactly where you were going.

you leaned left? his face coincidentally fell on the left side of your back. you take advantage of that to lean right? somehow, against all laws of physics, he was still there with a twitch and a snore to follow. with a huff, you accept defeat and slowly lean back into his arms, painfully aware of how the rise and fall of his chest evens out with the feeling of your warm body pressing against his ribs.

these observations of Satoru’s dogged nature, even in his sleep, made you all the more worried when he suddenly stopped all of it. the twitching, the snoring, you name it. slightly concerned, you decide to check up on the big lump of a sorcerer draped over you. while the sudden silence was worrying, you were hesitant to wake him up. Satoru never outwardly complained but you could tell he hadn’t been sleeping properly on his mission overseas; instead of doing an over the top bit when Nobara asked about the bags under his eyes, he merely gave her a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes and changed the subject to an upcoming luxury showcase that weekend.

giving up on your calligraphy set, you set your sights on Satoru’s fingers splayed carelessly over your arms and lap. large and smooth, you let one of your own fingers trace over each knuckle, each tiny little hair, every ridge of his ridiculously groomed nails, all to let your thoughts roam while you let him sleep.

you think of all the times these hands tugged yours excitedly, held your cheeks softly, splayed out on your body as he let his twinkling smile lower further and further—

okay, you weren’t too sure if he was still breathing. panicking slightly, you slowly leave his hands to rest on the couch and turn around in his lap. you sling a leg over him, hovering your weight above his core, and gently tilt your ear towards his mouth for any sign of breathing. faintly, you hear a feeble stream of air coming out. leaning ever so slightly closer, you try to get a good idea of his faint breathing-

ACK!

you scramble back at the sudden cough, launching yourself into the couch cushion next to Satoru. you watch incredulously as he coughs, clears his throat, and promptly goes back to his twitch-snore ritual. that was quite enough, sleep deprivation be damned.

you smack him with a nearby pillow.

“Toru!”

he grunts in response, eyes still closed peacefully. deadpan, you raise the stakes.

“okay, bye baby, love you! this was fun!”

Satoru’s eyes fly open, his throat still mid-snore. his body reacts faster than his equally frantic mind and before he can even begin to speak, his hands rush to grab you. his legs adjust to his hands’ grasp of your back and waist, situating you firmly in his lap with your back against the armchair of the couch. you hate to admit it, but looking at him is much more comfortable this way. when he does speak, Satoru’s tone is delightfully hoarse and deep, sleep cascading off the edge of his voice.

“come on, sweetums, you can’t leave yet, we haven’t even gotten to the best part of the movie yet.”

you scoff incredulously, letting an eyebrow arch up questioningly. Satoru matches your expression with an adorably confused pout. gently you pinch his head, guiding his vision to the black TV screen; clearly the movie finished a while ago, without him. upon learning this devastating information, his antics only worsen. the sorcerer’s pout deepens and he throws his head back as he complains.

“wowww, so you would just watch the movie without me? i can’t believe the love of my life hates me, there should be a hotline for people like me.”

you laugh, leaning into the earthy smell of his neck, and wrap your arms around the comfort of his waist. although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the corners of his smile bump into you as he leaned his head into your hair. you sit like that for a couple serene moments before you grin and reply with a drawl.

“you don’t need a hotline for neglected boyfriends—”

Satoru interrupts without missing a beat.

“i would like to object to this violation of my rights—”

you’ve known Satoru too long. you interrupt him back, smoothing back into your previous sentence.

“—but you will need a hotline for sleep apnea. seriously, you stopped snoring and i thought you died.”

a moment of calm follows. curious, you look up only to see Satoru scrunching his nose before he starts complaining loudly in disagreement.

“i do not snore!”

you frown and complain back.

“i was here the whole time, so yes you do!”

“it must have been the movie!”

“Toru, the monkeys? the movie about apes?”

“they’re sentient monkeys, baby!”

needless to say, it was a long argument before you both rewound the entire movie to prove your points. later, while you two settled into ordering dinner, Satoru smiled. it would take a few months before he ever admitted it to you, but you were right; the snoring was new. he never snored as a child, everyone at his estate could attest to that. you had off-handedly mentioned, more so grumbled, while you two rewound the movie that “these things are normal in old age, baby”.

these things were normal in old age.

he knew in his heart that you were joking; just trying any tactic possible to get him to slip up and admit he was snoring. but as he watched you go through the takeout menu, furrowing your brow as you narrowed the options you two could eat nowadays without indigestion, he smiled to himself.

if you were with him, maybe growing old wasn’t so bad.

thinking about satoru with all the mannerisms of a middle aged father

[torupinwheels]

I forgot to post this here//

[torupinwheels]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

satoru likes jerking off in front of a mirror. no, scratch that – he fucking loves doing it.

fully bare, he sits on the bed in front of a body length mirror. the sun peeks from the window, kissing the freckles and scars on his body. there's a pink flush to his skin - his chest, his neck, his cheeks, the tips of his ears; he feels warm all over.

thighs spread wide open, he's leaned back on his one arm while his eyes are glued to his reflection in the mirror. his own hand feels hot on his tummy as he trails them over his pecs and his perked nipples. they're awfully sensitive and satoru can't help but hiss when he gives them a little squeeze. his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth and his dick twitches. he's so fucking hard.

pre-cum leaks from his aching tip, all swollen and deprived. he's been sitting here for a good while now – he loves edging himself; he conjures up the prettiest pictures of you in his head as he trails over his abs. he thinks about it being yours instead. your hand, your fingers.

he plays with his happy trail as he thinks about you nuzzling your face in it. his dick jumps again and he let's out a shaky laugh.

finally deciding to give in, he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and his eyes almost cross at the touch. but he refuses to shut them – still keeping them trained on his own body through the reflection in front of him. he tightens his fist as he pushes down a little, putting more pressure onto his sensitive balls.

his head lolls to the side as he watches a glob of pre-cum slide down the side of his shaft. he thinks about you licking it up. he thinks about you giving his aching dick a kiss. his pearly white teeth sink into the plush flesh of his lower lip, almost strong enough to draw blood when he moves his fist up, twisting his wrist as he goes over the leaky tip.

his hair is tousled and he's starting to sweat – he looks fucking good. all the work he's putting in at the gym is really showing under the afternoon sun; his muscles look more defined with the layer of sweat glistening over them and he's proud of what he's seeing. it's hot. he isn't afraid to admit that he thinks that he's sexy, that he looks amazing like this. even his cock looks pretty; rock hard and pink, pre-cum weeping from the slit as it bounces at every thought of you inside his head.

you and your gorgeous smile. you and your loving eyes. you and your stupid jokes. you and your... body. he feels like a bit of a creep thinking about you in such dirty ways when you're not even his.

yet.

pushing off his hand, he spreads his legs a little wider as he leans forward, getting more comfortable. his fingers stay wrapped around his length while his free hand goes to his stomach. he's so sensitive to every single sensation – no matter whether it's from his own touch or somebody else's.

he discovered something new a few days ago... his belly button is sensitive, too. he pumps his cock slowly, almost painflully so as he traces his navel. goosebumps raise on his skin despite him feeling anything but cold; his head feels dizzy in the best way possible, his tummy nice and warm. satoru circles the hole before pushing the tip of his finger in. it's feels so weird and so fucking good.

the sight of him sort of fingering his own belly button is strange, but satoru has never been one to stray from experimentation. he loves to try new things, he loves to have fun – and if a silly thing like this makes him feel so ridiculously good, then so be it. he's not gonna be ashamed of that.

he can't wait to let you do it to him either. he's even a bit excited to see your reaction to the offer – would you be weirded out or would you be into it? would you tease him for it, call him names? tell him that he's a freak? a pervert? he pushes into the tiny hole a little harder at the thought of you making fun of him, his fist tightening around his cock.

he spits down onto his cock and speeds up just a little, enjoying the slick sounds that fill the room. he stares at his own adam's apple, he watches it bob as he swallows. he thinks about having something down his throat. he thinks about how it would look, how it would feel. he moves his free hand to touch the sensitive skin of his neck and puts some pressure on it – the broken moan that ripples from him echoes around the whole apartment and he just wishes you were here to listen to him.

his eyes are low as they set on his heavy cock again. he tries to imagine his hand as your own – he needs to do it. he wants you to touch him so badly, he wants you to make him feel good. of course, he thinks about making you feel good aswell; he spends so, so much time on thinking about giving you head. about the way you'd taste, the way you'd whine and whimper. how you'd squirm below him as he fucks you into overstimulation. but he does like to think about you down on his knees in front of him too. he wants to be greedy. he is greedy.

taking his hand from his neck, he now cups his balls with a pleased sigh. he massages them, letting his own spit and cum cover them completely. it's messy, just the way he likes it. he feels it dripping down to his asshole and he can't keep his lips from tugging upward. his eyes trail up his body through the reflection – his sweaty abs, his pecs, his flushed neck; his plump and now a little swollen lips and the pink tint that's dusted across his cheekbones. he's quite fond of his dimples and he loves seeing them. he thinks they make him even better looking, more charming. they do.

satoru thinks about the way you always poke them whenever you have the chance. would you do it now too that he's here jerking off to disgusting thoughts of you like the needy boy that he is? he thinks about the way you like to rest your head on his shoulder and hide your face into the crook of his neck whenever he tries to tease you a little. how warm your breath feels on his skin. how your lips brush against his pulse point.

fuck.

as he fondles with his balls, he gnaws on his lip because he needs to feel more. he wants you to bite it instead, he wants you to play with him instead. taking his hand from his crotch, he lets it travel all over his body again – his thighs, his waist, his lower tummy. everything feels so fucking good. his hips buck up into his fist when his fingers dance around his belly button once more. his head lolls back but he never takes his eyes off from himself in the mirror. he moves up to massage his pecs now, his sensitive nipples. he wants to feel your tongue on them. he can't stop thinking about it – your teethmarks around the buds, the bruises you'd leave behind.

he grinds his cock into the tight little hole he's made with his hand, lips permanently stretched into a sick grin because he knows it's coming already. the knot in his tummy keeps tightening, his need growing with every stroke he makes. he thinks about holding it off but decides that he won't do it today; he's meeting you in an hour – he's going to have to jerk off again after that anyway.

satoru plays with his nipple while rubbing the swollen tip of his cock with his palm and oh, fuck he's close. he thinks about how warm you'd feel around him. he thinks about your pretty face. he makes his fist even smaller and humps into it, mainly focusing on the tip. it's just so sensitive and it feels so fucking good. he thinks about you wrapping your lips around it, about you licking at the slit. he thinks about your smile. how much better your hand would feel on him. the wet noises that emit from the friction between his fingers and his cock make his heart beat even faster – dirty, dirty, dirty. he thinks about recording the sounds and sending them to you. he thinks about videoing himself through the mirror; he wants you to see what he's seeing.

every twitch and every spasm, the muscles he's worked so hard on, his dimples, his fingers, the mess he's making for you. he rubs his free hand over his tummy, his belly button and he thinks about your eyes and—

white spurts of cum land on his hands and his belly and his happy trail. satoru moans with a smile on his face - he doesn't hold back, now finally letting his eyes close as his head falls back. he keeps fucking into his fist despite how much it feels. he loves it.

after a good few seconds, he finally cracks open his eyes and peeks at himself again. he looks like a mess. it's perfect. he let's go off his softening dick, focusing on the cum adorning his skin instead. he takes a finger and swipes through the thick liquid; he drags it all over his lower stomach, playing with it like a child. he pushes some of it into his belly button and chuckles breathlessly at his own silly antics. he doesn't care.

his phone dings, signaling an incoming message and to his delight – it's you. satoru hums at the sight. it's a simple text, just something about buying him sweets from the store but it has his dick twitching against his thigh again.

maybe he has time for a round two before meeting you...

+ everybody say thank you logan we love you @staryukis this one is for you baby<333333

[torupinwheels]

okay so what we’re not going to do is villainize shoko.

jjk 261 spoilers, thoughts, and a brief analysis of shoko. (and touching on some sashisu stuff. more specifically the sash part.)

i see a lot of people bashing her for not having a reaction to the body swapping plan and that satoru was like ‘i’m mostly surprised shoko didn’t object’ SO. here’s what i’ve got to say.

shoko didn’t object because she was fully under the belief that satoru was going to win. that it wasn’t going to happen. it was literally the worst worst worst WORST case scenario. she had SO MUCH faith in satoru.

let’s rewind back to the shibuya arc. what we knew about shoko at that time regarding her use of cigarettes was that she had quit five years (iirc) prior to those events. her smoking habits literally revolve around satoru’s wellbeing.

mind you this was after she and yaga learned satoru had been sealed. she heard the news and immediately began smoking. why? because shoko is a person who masks her emotions and she does it well. she’s not the type of woman to break down in tears. she’s going to hide it and instead light up a cigarette.

we saw this with her interaction with suguru. she acted very nonchalant about his defection and the massacre he committed on the village and his parents. but when we fast forward ten years and go to jjk0, it’s made abundantly clear that she still cares about him. during the meeting where yaga declares they’re going to kill suguru — i’m pretty sure his words were ‘exorcise the curse that is geto suguru’ or something along those lines — shoko leaves. she flat out walks out. and during the night parade of 100 demons, we have a moment where see the most emotion out of shoko that we have for the majority of the series. she’s angry. she’s hurt. she has these thoughts of something along the lines of like ‘you sure made a mess for us’ regarding suguru. and it’s especially prominent because it’s the first time we’ve ever seen her like this and only time. the closest we get to seeing that again is during the sukuna fight.

she literally cares so much but she’s just emotionally constipated and doesn’t know how to show it 😭 it’s an issue both she and satoru have. they deflect. they mask. they move on and yet the carry it with them somewhere deep inside them.

so we go back forward to satoru and sukuna’s fight. where we do see emotion from shoko but what’s most important to note is the panels she’s in. when they focus on her, she’s either smoking a cigarette, lighting a cigarette up, or we see her surrounded by cigarette butts.

we see her genuinely fearful at this point. she had full confidence that satoru was going to win. that’s why she said ‘do what you want’ and didn’t object. because in her mind, it wouldn’t happen.

it’s very important to remember that sashisu, whether you see it in a romantic or platonic way, was a group that cared so fucking deeply for one another. their bonds were deep. their love for their found family was deep. it’s part of the reason why suguru defected in the end. which i can get it into but not at this time. but at the end of the day, sashisu had ass communication skills and failed to properly understand one another.

and that seems to continue on with the satoshoko side of that, which was left after suguru left. and after he died.

also, it’s really important to remember that shoko is not like satoru and suguru. she’s a healer. that’s it. that’s all she does. she doesn’t get to fight or be on the front lines like they do. she’s the one who gets to wait behind and wait until the damage is done to do her job. she’s been doing this since she was (probably) 15, maybe even younger since we don’t know her backstory. she’s going to be emotionally detached. also, keep in mind this page:

specifically her first piece of dialogue. ‘it’s more like we have to do it.’

and that’s the bottom line.

whew. this was rough. shoko ieiri you will always be loved by me.

[torupinwheels]

he thinks he's gonna eat him

[torupinwheels]

[papamin au 🐅] please clap for nanamis talented son 👏

[torupinwheels]

[torupinwheels]

they woke up (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

[torupinwheels]

Grrr 🐯

[torupinwheels]

imagine hating the character you designed cus hes loved by everyone???

[torupinwheels]

toji sits on your bed naked with his hands behind his head to watch tv

[torupinwheels]

biker choso

[torupinwheels]

[torupinwheels]

that extremely flirty and dangerously horny pre-relationship stage with satoru where every text you both send each other late at night is more risqué than the last…. you’re both practically on the verge of sexting and satoru’s been palming his hard on for at least 20 minutes now and you’re biting your lip and rubbing your thighs together while rereading the suggestive messages shared between you two but then the very next day you both hang out in person like you weren’t just getting off to each other’s texts less than 24 hours ago

[torupinwheels]

[torupinwheels]

thinking about satoru with all the mannerisms of a middle aged father

[torupinwheels]

✰ gn!reader x choso ✰ fluff, big bro cho and his mini existential crisis ++ i needed to mend my heart somehow.. there's a mild spoiler warning for jjk 259, but this takes place way before the sukuna fight.. im giving choso nation a big warm hug 🫂 ✰

“do you— oh, never mind…”

choso stops near the handrail, fidgeting where he stood at the top of the stairs just as you peered up at him from your place on one of the steps. “i’m sorry for interrupting you.”

“nonsense,” you smiled warmly, straightening out your back as you set aside the jujutsu scroll in your hands. you waved him over, using the same hand to gently pat the empty space to your right. “come, join me.”

he lingers for a moment, unsure whether or not he should take you up on your offer; he ultimately caves in when you flash him another welcoming grin. he’s still not used to it, after all— you inviting him into your space, as if you were unlocking the front door of your home and swinging it wide open every time he so much as entered the vicinity.

(he’s not used to the sheer amount of kindness you have reserved for him.)

truthfully, he’s still getting used to the way his chest tightens, how the rate of his heartbeat picks up for a significant moment every time his eyes land on you. it pumps the blood faster throughout his circulatory system, makes it harder for him to steady the flow of the plasma to keep his face from flushing that same rosy color you sometimes tease him about.

he’s still getting used to feeling as much as he feels for you.

yet choso made up his mind faster than he would care to admit out loud, slowly taking his hand off the handrail before descending the staircase. he stopped just below the step you were seated on before he bent his knees, steadying himself as he took his seat beside you. he only realized his fingers had brushed against yours in the process when it was already too late to pull them back.

you moved your hand closer to his, nearly making him forget what he wanted to say in the first place. “you know i’ll always make time for you, cho.”

it’s an earnest statement, not a confession but a reminder— a reminder that you never really needed to unlock your front door whenever he was around, not when you already gave him the key to your heart.

choso nods, glancing down at your hand before inching his own closer. “right, i know…”

a soft hum vibrates through your chest, filling the short silence as you tilted your head to the side. “so what’s on your mind?”

he exhales, furrowing his eyebrows the way he always did when something was bothering him. he pulls his hand back to rest it on his lap instead, fidgeting with the hem of his clothing.

“it’s yuuji,” choso frowns, thinking of how to best word his dilemma. “he’s— he’s learning really fast.”

you nodded as he spoke; you were faintly aware of the training sessions yuuji was undergoing with choso and noritoshi, the pair doing their best to teach the young boy how to master blood manipulation. “that’s not a bad thing, is it?”

choso is quick to shake his head. “no! no, not at all, i’m really proud of him for it, it’s just…” he sighs again, nervously tapping his index finger against his thigh. “i just— i feel like i’m not, um… i’m not doing enough.”

this only mildly surprised you; yuuji had mentioned before that choso wasn’t exactly the best at teaching. it’s not entirely his fault— his technique comes naturally to him, it’s more akin to a subconscious instinct than a learned skill.

you just hadn’t ever seen him take it to heart as much as he was right now.

“i feel… useless, i guess,” he concluded, bearing his heart out to you. despite how nervous you make him feel, conveying a certain level of vulnerability with you comes naturally to him, too.

“useless?” you parroted, observing how he nods sheepishly in response. you take a moment to choose your next words carefully, chewing on your lower lip before speaking up again. “i don’t think i need to tell you just how wrong that statement is, do i?” you murmured, maintaining the same tender cadence in your tone.

choso huffs softly; it’s a breathy chuckle, almost. he looks at you for a moment and the corner of his lips turns upward, a small but appreciative smile making itself known, but then he’s facing forward once more. “yeah, but… i still feel like it.”

you paused for a moment, glancing back down at his hand that was just a hairline away from yours. you gingerly pressed them forward, carefully sliding your fingers over his own. “i know you do,” you murmured softly, smiling down at the small contact as you spoke.

it takes choso a moment to respond; too focused on trying not to tense up when you broke the minuscule distance between your hand and his, not wanting you to think he was uncomfortable. it was quite the opposite, really— you had his heart racing once again. in the time it took him to force himself to breathe normally while he manually slowed the rapid flowing of blood in his veins to a steadier pulse, you spoke up again.

“it’s normal, y’know,” you added, mumbling as you began to toy with his fingers. you curled your index finger underneath his, wrapping it around as you lifted the digit off the ground. “it’s— it’s normal to doubt yourself and your abilities, even when you’re doing everything right.”

choso’s eyes flit up to your face again, and he watches you speak with a softened expression while you keep your own gaze down, intentionally (or otherwise) avoiding eye contact. you keep toying with his fingers until they’re all curled around your own, firmly intertwined. “it happens to the best of us… it’s a very human thing to do.”

he squeezes your hand the instant he hears those words.

“yeah?” he questions, voice lowered to a near whisper as his eyes remain fixed on you, completely unwavering. you finally lift your head to face him properly, and it’s hard to miss the hitch in his breath when he meets your eyes. “i’m just… being human,”

to anyone else, anyone who didn’t know anything of choso— of his struggle with his sense of self, his devotion to being an older brother, the last words his dearest friend said to him before she sacrificed herself to save his life —this conversation would seem entirely mundane.

yet, to choso kamo, to the man who died as a curse to live on as a human— it meant everything to him.

(you meant everything to him.)

the silence lingers for another extended moment, and choso’s eyes never leave yours. he thinks this is the longest he’s ever gazed so… intently at someone. he’d finally given up entirely on trying to steady his own blood flow around you, letting it flush his cheeks and ears. he watches your eyes trace the outline of his blush, extending all the way down his neck and around the back, painting him the prettiest coral pink you’d ever seen.

he feels you move closer, feels your knee knock against his while you do.

“you’ve always been human, choso,” you finally spoke, your voice still lowered. choso closes his eyes when the surge of emotions he feels starts to overwhelm him.

while his eyes are closed, your head leans forward, carefully planting it on his shoulder. you lift your joined hands to place them on your lap, and you let off a small sigh. content and relaxed.

when he opens his eyes again, it’s only to look down at your lap. to smile at the way you’re still silently toying with his fingers, to smile at the way your head nuzzled further against him when he moved even closer, too.

choso kamo has always been human— the way you consistently manage to make his heart skip a beat is plenty proof of that.

tagging: @ohsuguru @screampied @ohimsummer @chososluv @yukitsukumoo @mossmurdock @chososdoll @chwoso @urnovia these were the choso luvr mutuals i could think of off the top of my head so i hope i didnt forget anyone 😞😞😞 but everyone/anyone else i didnt tag is getting tagged in spirit ok