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devilish-cherry · 2 months ago

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ᨳ♡₊➳ choso x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

Choso schedules your first kiss. You tell him that’s not how romance works. He respectfully disagrees.

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: i have no excuse for this i just really wanted to indulge myself and write something funny and cute with choso 🧍‍♀️

There were a lot of things you had accepted about your life.

Your taste in men was questionable at best, catastrophic at worst.

You were somehow best friends with a 150-year-old half-cursed spirit who had the social skills of a damp napkin.

Choso had absolutely no idea how romance worked. Zero. Nada. Zilch.

Currently? Currently, you were experiencing another prime example of Choso’s complete and utter lack of understanding when it came to romance.

It all started because Choso had been staring at you again.

You ignored it at first. He did this sometimes—watching you like you were a particularly interesting puzzle, his expression blank but his eyes full of deep, incomprehensible thought.

But this time? This time, something was different.

"Choso," you sighed, setting down your drink with a dull clink against the wooden table. Your fingers toyed with the rim of the glass as you fixed him with a tired stare. "You’re looking at me like I just told you I eat drywall. What’s up?"

He blinked, slow and deliberate, as if carefully selecting his words from some internal archive. And yet, when he finally spoke, his words were as blunt ever. "I want to kiss you."

You choked. On air.

There were many ways to confess romantic intent. Some people wrote love letters filled with poetic declarations. Some planned extravagant dates beneath starlit skies. Some flirted with playful smirks and teasing banter.

Choso? Choso just dropped the bomb mid-eye contact like it was the daily weather report.

You stared at him, mind attempting to reboot as though someone had just yanked the power cord from your brain. "I’m sorry—what?"

"I want to kiss you," he repeated, his deep voice steady, his tone as casual as if he had just stated a fundamental truth of the universe.

Oh. Okay. Yeah. No big deal. Just your heart casually leaving your body and ascending into the stratosphere.

"Uh. Why?" you managed to say, because apparently, your brain had short-circuited, and this was all it could come up with.

Choso tilted his head slightly, a faint furrow appearing between his brows, as though he was confused by the question itself. "I do not know. I just feel… drawn to you."

Your soul nearly detached from your corporeal form. Was this real life? Were you hallucinating?

Choso, utterly oblivious to your internal meltdown, continued without hesitation. "I read that humans kiss to show affection. I like you. Therefore, I want to kiss you."

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

This was so unfair. So deeply, profoundly unfair. Because Choso was saying quite possibly the most romantic thing you had ever heard, and he was doing it with the blank, expressionless face of a haunted Victorian painting.

"Okay," you finally forced out, struggling to regain control over your entire existence. "But, like—have you ever kissed anyone before?"

Choso hesitated. "No."

Right. Of course. That made sense. He was, technically, 150 years old, but he had also spent most of that time as a sentient fetus in a jar, which also meant—

Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

"You… you do know how kissing works, right?"

"Yes," Choso said immediately. There was a pause. "…No."

That was what you thought.

You sighed, leaning back into your seat. "Okay, so, kissing isn’t just—like—you don’t just slam your face into someone else’s face and call it a day. There’s… a process."

At that, Choso straightened, looking at you with the heavy sincerity of a medieval knight about to go into battle.

"…Do you want to?"

...Oh.

Oh.

Your brain instantly blue-screened.

You had to physically reboot yourself before responding. "Are—are you asking if I want to kiss you? Like right now?"

Choso nodded, his expression unwavering, his seriousness almost comical. "If it is something you desire, I will fulfill it."

Okay, what kind of phrasing—

You inhaled deeply, grasping for logic. "Dude, that makes it sound like you’re about to duel me."

"I am prepared," he said, dead serious.

"No—No, Choso, that’s not—" You facepalmed. "Listen, a first kiss isn’t supposed to be a…transaction. It just… happens."

Choso nodded slowly, processing. Then, after a contemplative pause, he asked, "So when should it happen?"

Oh, for the love of—

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. "It’s not something you schedule."

Choso frowned, his dark eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "Why not?"

You blinked. "Because that’s kind of... weird?"

Choso seemed to consider this, his brows furrowing slightly in contemplation. Then, with complete sincerity, he pulled out his phone, tapped open the Notes app, and typed:

Kiss [Y/N]

You stared.

"…Did you just put it on your to-do list?"

Choso nodded, completely unfazed.

"Choso."

"Yes."

"You are ridiculous."

"I am thorough."

You opened your mouth.

Paused.

Closed it.

No thoughts, head empty.

Fine. Whatever.

You were so not dealing with this right now.

A few days later, you were minding your business, sipping your little drink in the sanctuary of your apartment, when Choso—unprompted, suddenly announced:

“I believe now is the time.”

You blinked, mid-sip. "For what?"

Choso met your eyes with the unwavering solemnity of a man delivering a prophecy.

“…The kiss.”

Your brain performed several acrobatic flips before promptly crashing into a brick wall.

“I—” You choked, nearly inhaling your drink. “What—”

“You said it must happen naturally,” he explained, voice calm, tone absolute. “And I have determined that this is a natural moment.”

“…Have you?”

“Yes,” he confirmed with a surety that suggested he had spent hours contemplating this very moment. “I have done research.”

Oh. Oh no.

You stared at him warily. "Choso," you said slowly, carefully, as if approaching a feral animal, "what research?"

“I watched a rom-com.”

“Okay.” You exhaled sharply. “Which one?”

Choso paused. “Shrek 2.”

You nearly died on the spot.

“Dude, that’s not—” You groaned, slapping a hand to your forehead. “That’s—That’s not a romance movie.”

He frowned, clearly unconvinced. “But the ogre and the human shared a bond of great depth—”

“Choso.”

Choso frowned, a picture of mild disappointment. “Fine. Then perhaps you would prefer we reenact the upside-down kiss from ‘Spider-Man’—”

“Oh my god—” You buried your face in your hands. You peeked at him between your fingers, only to freeze.

That’s when you realized something—

Choso—aloof, unreadable, forever stoic Choso—was nervous.

Not visibly, not in a way most people would catch. But you knew him well enough by now to notice the minute tells—the way his fingers flexed, the way his jaw tensed, the almost imperceptible way his gaze flickered down before meeting yours again.

He wasn’t saying all of this because he thought it was a joke.

He was saying it because he was genuinely trying to make it special.

Your heart stuttered and did a little backflip.

You exhaled, gentling your voice. "Choso."

He looked at you immediately. “Yes?”

You softened. “Just… kiss me.”

Choso’s eyes widened just a fraction, the faintest breath of hesitation passing through him.

And then—

Oh.

Oh, this was real.

This was actually happening.

Your pulse hammered against your ribs, your hands feeling unsteady as they curled into fists at your sides. He leaned in, close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips, warm and steady.

"Choso," you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

He paused. "...Yes?"

You exhaled shakily. "You're supposed to close your eyes."

Choso’s brows furrowed slightly. "But then how will I know where to aim?"

A breathless laugh tumbled from your lips before you could stop it. “Just��trust me.”

Choso hesitated, then, with the same meticulous precision he approached everything with, his eyes fluttered shut.

You did the same.

And when he finally kissed you, it was—

Perfect.

Soft. Warm.

Tentative at first, as though he was memorizing something fragile and unfamiliar. But then, as you sighed into him—melting into the moment—he grew bolder. His hand found your jaw, thumb brushing the delicate skin beneath your ear, cradling you with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

…For about five seconds before Choso pulled back and, in the most serious tone imaginable, asked, “Should I be doing something with both of my hands?”

You burst out laughing.

Choso, mortified, went stiff. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because—” You wheezed, struggling to breathe. “Because you looked so serious, and then you asked that—”

Choso averted his gaze, clearly embarrassed. “I wanted to ensure proper form.”

“Oh my god.” You were still laughing as you grabbed his hands and placed them on your waist, giving them a light pat, grinning. “There. Perfect form.”

Choso blinked, glancing down at where his hands now rested against you, before looking back up with startling intensity.

“…Okay.”

And then, without hesitation, he kissed you again—deeper, slower.

A warmth bloomed in your chest, soft and all-consuming, as your hands instinctively gripped around his shirt. Choso held you like you were something precious, something irreplaceable. He only pulled back when absolutely necessary, his breathing slightly uneven, his dark eyes half-lidded and—oh. Oh.

They were so pretty.

You stared at him, breathless, still trying to gather your thoughts when Choso exhaled, studied you for a moment, and then, in complete and utter seriousness, said:

"I still do not understand the purpose of closing my eyes."

You groaned.

Choso, entirely unfazed, simply tilted his head and leaned in to kiss you again.

(You let him.)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso x y/n #choso x you

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 year ago

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currently eating drywall while reading your Gaz pushup fic. I got an idea, Gaz pinning reader down under him and doing push-ups like that?

this is playing with fire anon.

1,843 / 15 / takes place immediately after doing push-ups with Gaz and distracting Gaz as he's counting reps

...

The next day, Gaz gives no indicator as to how many push-ups he's doing, and you're struggling to keep track. Your focus lies elsewhere--between his broad shoulders and muscular back; the way his t-shirt fits so tightly to his skin.

"You're not counting my reps this time, I take it?" he asks dryly.

You stiffen, in the middle of warmup stretches yourself. "Why, should I? Are you going to get distracted and miscount again?"

"I don't miscount." He pushes up. His biceps look like carved stone under the strain. "I just ignore people who try to get my attention while I'm working."

"Maybe I should lay under you this time so you can't ignore me." You chuckle absently at your own joke without fully registering the implications of what you just said. You also don't notice Gaz falter in his reps for the first time ever.

He buckles down onto one elbow. "I'm... sorry? Come again?"

Your brain catches up with your mouth just as you're trying to twist your left knee up and over your right hip. "Wait, I didn't mean like that. Or I did, but not in the way that, like, just with your chest-- wait, fuck--"

Still mid-stretch, his hand closes around your ankle.

"No, really, come again."

He pulls, dragging you under him, and you find yourself on your back, the workout mat stinging against the skin there. He hovers over you, his hands and knees caging you in.

"Lay under me?" he says. "Because that's what it sounds like that's what you're saying. Is that what you want? To be under me?"

You blink up at him. This shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Gaz is your workout buddy. You've been closer to him. Regularly.

It's the eye contact, isn't it? He looks hungry. Your gym buddy shouldn't be looking like he wants to devour you. He leans in closer, his eyes roving over you in a way you've never seen him do before. Obviously Gaz is an attractive guy--ridiculously so. But you've never seen him look at you like this. Your whole body is tingling with awareness.

You know you can put an end to this right now with a single comment. The fact that you don't want to is what makes his closeness feel new. If he were to lean down and kiss you right here on the gym mat, you would welcome it.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Gaz shifts again, leaning further over you. "I said, is that what you want?"

Your mouth is dry. Your tongue darts out go wet your lips and his eyes snap down to watch.

Your self-control wavers.

"Yeah," you tell him shortly. "Maybe I do."

Gaz's jaw sets. His body is tensing like a coiled spring. He is desperate to touch you. "Maybe isn't good enough," he grits out. His hand slides up from your hip to your waist, slipping under your shirt. "I want to hear yes."

nsfw ⬇

Your vision fogs a bit as his fingers graze the skin under your breasts. When he dragged you under him, you realize, the friction of the floor against your clothes rolled them up. Now your shorts and top are riding very high on your frame. He sees the way you're trembling, your hips writhing subtly under his touch. You're so exposed. It's so wrong. But he's enjoying the hell out of the view.

His hand disappears and he drops to his elbows, his hard body pressing up against yours. Your breath hitches. He chuckles. His mouth strays to your ear.

"Easy," he breathes. "I'm not asking to have my way with you right here on the floor. I'm just asking for permission to touch you a little, yeah?"

Your heart clenches in your chest, catching oddly. "Oh, right. Y-Yeah."

"Sorry, are you disappointed?" His hand drifts back up your body, going straight to the elastic band of your sports bra. "Did you want me to take you right here? In this very public gym?"

You squirm as his thumb begins to work its way under the elastic. Your hands go to his chest, a rush of endorphins surging through you at the slight give of his form pectoral muscles under your fingers.

"I didn't say that," you tell him, voice still wavering more than you want it to. "Don't put words in my mouth."

"Oh, no, I'm just thinking out loud. You really need to watch your phrasing, boss. You're gonna make me think you're not as innocent as you like to act." His thumb rubs in slow circles over your soft skin as he speaks. "I’m just thinking about how cute you are when you're all flustered. And how pretty your eyes are. And how you’re not denying it.”

"You're the one who-- ah--" Your retort dies on your lips as his hand slips under your bra. His fingers run over your nipple, the rough texture of his callouses against the many nerve endings there making you jump.

He lets out a low groan of satisfaction when you respond so quickly to his touch. His forehead falls to your collarbone, trying to focus on you, on the sounds you're making. You're igniting his whole body. He squeezes your breast roughly, unable to help himself. He squeezes again when you squeak and he realizes just how much you like this, too. He tenses more and more with every breathless little jump and squeal.

You're barely aware of your own reactions. All you register is his hand on you and the heat in your face spreading down your neck and racing to your core.

His knee slides between your legs. It tears a ragged gasp from your throat. That only seems to encourage him, and he presses his body down harder over yours.

"You're so sensitive," he breathes out.

He grinds his knee up into you even more shamelessly, and you fist a handful of his tank top. "Wait," you protest. "Someone could walk in."

"So?" He growls, his voice suddenly rough. "Let them walk in and see. I'm not going to pretend I'm doing anything other than what you want--" His breath gets heavier as he shifts again, his knee easing back. Fuck, you're right. Someone is going to walk in any second. It's incredible nobody has already. This would be a compromising position to be found in, to put it very lightly. He's a senior officer over you. It looks bad for him to be over you.

Gaz forces his hand to still and pulls it out from under your shirt, swallowing. He sits up, dragging his gaze slowly down your body before he finally locks eyes with you again. Your clothes are in disarray; your chest is heaving; you're looking at him with such a debauched look in your eye he has to clench his hands into fists to keep them off you. Jesus. He's only touched one nipple and you already look like he's been fucking you. How are you real?

He grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet as he stands. "Come on, up."

"Where are we going?" you ask as he walks across the floor with your hand still in his grip. "Why did you stop?"

"We're going somewhere private." His grip stays firm as he drags you out through the front entrance. "And I stopped," he adds, "because you're going to get me in trouble if I keep going where we were."

"Wait." You tug his hand back as he pulls you past the entrance to the women's locker room and showers. "In here."

Gaz almost trips as your grip pulls him back.

"What?" His voice is an exasperated whisper.

But at your persistence, he lets you tow him over to the women's locker showers.

"What?" he repeats, this time quieter as he opens the door. "Are you--?"

But you step in after him, shutting the door behind you. Gaz's eyebrows go up.

"I guess you are."

"A lot less foot traffic in here. Enough time for a little hands-on training, right?" you say, pulling him further into the room. You start up one of the shower heads near the door, hoping the noise will cover up what you want to do. Then you strip your tank top and bra off in one swift motion, grabbing the hem of his shirt immediately after.

Gaz's throat goes dry at the sight of your exposed chest. He drinks in your body, his eyes roaming slowly and possessively. "Jesus, your body is-- fuck."

He grabs your hips and pushes you against the wash-tile in the nearest stall. You gasp at the cold of the tile on your naked back.

He runs his hands up your waist, groping your tits unabashedly. "We're way past hands-on training, love. That's your fault."

"My fault?"

"Yeah. Yours." Gaz's voice is rough with arousal. He hefts you up, grunting in satisfaction when your legs fasten around his waist. "You started this. You're the one who suggested laying under me. You didn’t have to say that. Did you think I was going to say no?"

You give him what is--somehow, even as you're naked from the waist up with your legs around him--a shy glance. "I didn't think you'd say yes."

His hands move up your legs, massaging your thighs then moving to your hips again. The way your body grips him, the way your legs squeeze him tightly to you--he's loving every goddamn inch of you.

"What do you expect a starving man to do when he's presented with a three-course meal right on the table?"

You scoff. "You are not starving."

"I'm starving for you," he grits out. "Don't be obtuse. God damn. You have no idea how often I’ve thought about getting my hands on you.” He rubs his fingers along the sensitive skin just over your waistband. “You have no idea just how much I’ve wanted to--”

He slides his hands up your body again, his fingertips tracing smooth undersides of your breasts. Even now he's holding back and his restraint is obvious. He could have you right now, pinned to the wall.

"I wanna devour you, you hear me? Every inch."

Your stomach flutters as his palms reach your ass and squeeze. You can't believe Gaz of all people wants you like this. "Is this gonna mess up our relationship as gym partners?"

"Probably. Definitely." He bites your earlobe the same place he bit it yesterday. This time, he laves his tongue against it. His breath is labored in your ear. "If you don't want that to happen. I need you to tell me." He rolls his hips against yours, groaning at the feeling of your heat through your thin workout shorts. "Right... right now."

"Is... is it wrong that I kinda want you to ruin it for the rest of time?"

"Good." He shifts one hand to run his fingers over the crux of your thighs from behind, making your back arch. "Because I'm going to destroy it beyond all reason."

...

part 1 / part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / masterlist tag

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