❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄! ❞
❝ A PUNK ROCK DRUMMER AND HE'S SIX-FOOT-THREE !! ❞
✧ pairing: older brother! choso kamo x best friend! reader
✧ summary: you've been asked whether you and yuji are together a million times - but the truth is his brother is more your type -- so what happens when you end up sharing a bed one night?
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is two years younger than choso (same age as yuji), (all in their 20s but age is vague), bed sharing, switch! choso, soft dom! choso, sub! choso, oral (m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied itafushi, implied bi king yuji, a little angst with choso, but a lot of comfort, cuddling, nobara hijinks, art by @/yume041624
✧ wc: 5,597
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 2 has been sold to one anon!
Yuji Itadori was not your boyfriend.
It was a sentence you had to say probably as many times as Yuji had to tell people you weren’t his girlfriend. It was the first thing people asked when they saw the two of you together, or some iteration of “you two are soooo cute together,” “you’re the perfect couple,” or your favorite, “when’s the wedding?”
The last one you liked to answer with when hell froze over.
And it wasn’t because Yuji wasn’t attractive — he was. He was cute, athletic, loyal to a fault, somewhat intelligent when he put his two brain cells together, and had a really nice smile. But you said that with all of the platonic energy in the universe — because if anyone asked you to kiss Yuji (year seven, a dare that went horribly wrong, and ended with you shoving Yuji into someone’s lap) — you would probably laugh or puke.
Whichever naturally came first (or possibly both).
But the good thing was Yuji felt the exact same way — he saw you as a sister, someone he respected, loved, but never romantically — you knew that by the way he barely had reacted when he had barged into your bathroom when you were getting dressed from your shower still, and just promptly just shut the door with a shouted, “sorry!”
You glance to your right, at Yuji who was playing a video game beside you on the couch — No, your type was not the golden retriever, stare into your eyes longingly, and bring that boy home to your parents — no, your eyes slid over to your left, your type was…his older brother.
Jet black locks that hung to his shoulders, inked tattoos peeking out from beneath his black t-shirt, bags under his eyes as dark as his gaze itself, and his perfect lips were curled in a small smirk — at you.
Choso Kamo was absolutely your type — except for the fact he was your best friend’s older brother. That little problem still niggled into the forefront of your mind, even as you saw him lick his lips out of the corner of your eye, the rounded metal piercing on his tongue glinting in the fluorescent lights of the basement. Your eyes drew back to the TV screen where Yuji was badly losing a fighting game online, toying with your phone in your hands.
“Yo bro, are you headed back to school tonight?” Choso went to a college couple hours away — his break nearly over now — while you and Yuji went to a nearby university, two years behind Choso.
“Yeah, I’m going to make the drive tonight, probably get there before midnight or just after,” he sighs, raking his painted fingernails through his hair, “when do you two head back?”
“Next week,” you replied, watching Yuji fall into sudden death in his match, “Yuji promised to help me move this time, and not blow me off to help his boyfriend move this time,”
“Fushiguro isn’t my boyfriend,” he snaps, and the other player takes him out, Yuji glares at you, knuckles white against the controller, “look what you did,” he grumbles, tossing the controller onto the table, clattering against the wooden surface.
“Careful, you break another controller, and your dad will kill you,” you smirk, “if you weren’t so sensitive about Fushiguro, you wouldn’t have lost!”
His cheeks are stained an incriminating red, as he gets up and stalks off, muttering something about getting a soda from upstairs, and he’s gone in a flash, as you chuckle, far too pleased with your work — a little more prodding, and maybe you’d win that bet with Nobara about Yuji and Megumi getting together on the first day back.
“So, is that Fushiguro kid good enough for him?” Choso’s voice snaps you from your thoughts, as Choso raises an eyebrow, a smile pulling at his lips.
“Who’s really good enough for Yuji?” But you add, “but Fushiguro’s a good guy. He’d be a good match for Yuji,”
“And what about you?”
You tilt your head, your heart stutters in your chest, “What about me?”
“Who’d be a good match for you?” And you bite your bottom lip — you can’t be honest can you? How could you? Yuji had no idea how you felt and if he did, he may be horrified at the thought of you dating his older brother. But what if he wasn’t? And what if — your eyes meeting his own — you didn’t care?
But you don’t get to reply as Yuji comes bounding back down the stairs, bad mood already dissipated in the short few minutes he was gone, as he tosses you your favorite drink and does the same with his brother, “what I’d miss?”
You rolled around in bed, tossing from side to side — until you sighed again, resting on your stomach. You were so stupid. You had all day with Choso, all day to say something — to steer the conversation back to what you were talking about before. But no, you couldn’t. The three of you had dinner together, and you watched Choso leave, bags in hand, as you did the last two years.
He and Yuji clap hands together, as he ruffles his little brother’s hair as always, “Don’t do anything stupid okay? Visit your dad as much as you can. And let me know if you want to visit,” and his eyes find yours, “the both of you,”
And his palm comes to ruffle your hair as usual, leaning far too close for your heart’s sake,
“Be good ok?” And god, you have to force yourself not to shiver, as you nod, “Yuji, let her sleep in my room. She shouldn’t be forced to sleep on your couch again.”
“I always tell her to take my bed but she always says no—“
“That’s because your mattress sucks—“
“Well mine doesn’t,” Choso cuts in, and fuck, why does that make you press your thighs together discreetly, “So just sleep in there, ok?”
And now that’s where you find yourself, in Choso’s bed, in the room that Yuji’s dad had set up for him to use — it was relatively neat, a guitar left in the corner that he often used when he was here to practice — the one he had been sleeping in for the last month, the bedroom you’d pass each night and wish you had the courage to knock on his door, let the door swing open as you leaned close to him, fingers resting on his shoulder, breath warming your lips before you finally—
This wasn’t helping, you groaned into his pillow, and neither was the fact that this entire bed smelled like him — like musk and spice and something that’s so distinctly him. So distinctly him that you can’t ignore the ache between your legs, as your traitorous mind summoned images of him lying shirtless in bed — you knew from how his t-shirt would ride up that his body was far more toned than he looked and from when his chest pressed against your back when he reached for a plate from the table.
Fuck. You buried your face into the pillow again, you would be lucky to sleep an hour, much less a full night. But finally, you do drift off into Hypnos’s realm, however brief it is.
Until you’re awoken by rustling, you turn on the bed, consciousness stirring, as you hear the sounds of shifting again and your eyes blink open only to see a shirtless Choso standing in front of you.
You nearly pinch yourself to ensure your sinful thoughts before bed hadn’t betrayed you (and you do discreetly, as you stare at each other), “Choso?” You ask, voice thick with sleep, despite your body being far too awake for its own good, as your eyes finally dart away from the expansive view that is his bare chest, “what are you—“
“The roads got bad while I was driving back, it’s raining really hard — I got drenched even just heading from the car to the house,” he pulls on a shirt, “sorry I just came to grab a shirt—“
“Do you wanna sleep in your bed?” You move to get up, but he shakes his head, his hand finding your head again, as he ruffles your hair, “I can sleep in Yuji’s room — it’s fine,”
His lips quirk, “No, it’s okay — I’ll take the couch in his room, it’s not a problem,”
There was a problem — Yuji had locked his door before bed — the idiot. And once he was asleep, he slept like the dead — and the only way to wake him was the scream your throat raw, or a necromancy blood ritual — whichever was simpler.
“You can take your bed, I can sleep on the floor,” you chew your lip as you watch him set up a sheet and blanket on the floor of his room, “Choso—“
“I’m not going to have you sleep on the floor,” he raises an eyebrow, as he lays back, “just go back to bed, I’m sorry I woke you,”
You shake your head, “you’re fine,” and you glance at the bed — there was enough space for both of you, wasn’t there? “we could share the bed—“
“No,”
“It would be fine—“ and he seems unconvinced, his dark eyes finding yours again, cutting off your train of thought, “what?”
“Do you always insist on sharing a bed with a guy?” And your cheeks burn, eyes unable to meet his as you glance at your phone, “you should be more careful,”
“I trust you, and Yuji,” you add, chewing your bottom lip — you were veering into dangerous territory, “I wouldn’t do this with anyone else,”
“Really?”
“Really,” and he reaches up, you think to ruffle your hair again, but instead his fingers brush his cheek, long fingers trailing the length of your cheekbone, “Choso—“
“Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning,” and his fingers fall away as quickly as they come, as he turns away, his black locks fanned out on his pillow, “good night,”
“Night,” you murmur, as your eyes rest on his back — how was he so close yet so far? You barely remember a time he wasn’t there — he had found Yuji when he was in middle school — right after his grandfather had passed away. You were by Yuji’s side, holding his hand, when Choso tapped on his brother’s shoulder. And it wasn’t love at first sight — you were overprotective of Yuji, but Choso took his time to gain your trust with actions — until he had gained a lot more than just your trust — he had gained your heart along with it.
And even now, those adolescent feelings still lingered, and he remained just barely out of reach. Close enough to touch, but not enough to breach.
You close your eyes finally, maybe it wasn’t meant to be.
You barely drift off when you hear the sounds of soft cries and even a whimper — your mind is pulled from the arms of sleep into reality, eyes fluttering open to only find the darkness of night, the barest glimmer of moonlight let in by the cracks of the curtains, and you see him.
Choso. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, fingers clutching at his blanket — his knuckles nearly white, his brow formed valleys seemingly as deep as his fear. His breath left his lips in short pants, and you’re climbing off the bed before you can think.
Yuji had told you Choso hadn’t had the best upbringing. You didn’t know much, but you had known Choso had grown up taking care of his other siblings, left to be a father instead of an older brother. And his father…had abused all of them when he had bothered to be around — Choso taking the worst of it.
You’re at side, but you don’t know what to do — your fingers shake as you reach to touch him, but you don’t know if that will only scare him more, “Choso, you’re safe,” you said softly, “I’m going to touch you okay? You’re safe, you’re okay — come here, I’ll keep you safe,” and your fingers graze lightly against his brow, smoothing it’s ceases before running your fingers through his hair, “no one can hurt you,” and your other hand eases his fingers from his blanket, intertwining your fingers, “you’re okay,”
And his body slowly grows more limp, the tension ebbing away with each second, as his breathing slowed, your name leaving his lips, “I-I’m sorry,” you shush him gently, “I—“
“Come onto the bed,” you murmur, and he’s shaking his head, “Choso, it’s okay, it’ll be fine.”
His eyes slowly flutter open, but instead of fear, you only find sadness, “But what if…I hurt you somehow?” His voice is soft, and you almost chuckle at the thought of him hurting you.
“You could never hurt me, I know you, Choso,” you tug him by his hand lightly, “come on, please?”
You get onto the bed first, and he slowly follows, the bed dipping with his weight beside you. Your heart squeezes at the warmth of his body being so close, your fingers hesitantly reaching for him, and his arm slowly wraps around your middle, giving you enough time and space for you to move away (you don’t), “Thank you,” he murmurs, and your lips curl in a soft smile.
“Of course,” you say, and you inch even closer, as his breaths slow and warm your skin, and your eyes finally flutter shut too. And as you slip back into sleep — you wonder if you’ll truly wake to only realize this was a dream.
Choso had watched you and Yuji grow up — well, he was still growing up too — it felt as if he had aged so much faster the way he grew up. When he found out about Yuji from his deadbeat father, Choso went looking for him — only to find him with a death announcement — Yuji’s grandfather’s. Choso knew what it was like to lose family — the wounds never would heal, it was a poison that seeped into every crevice of your body, and hung on your bones like weights. But even so, Choso didn’t know Yuji — and he didn’t know how he’d react to a random person showing up to his grandfather’s funeral.
But he did anyway — and he was so glad he did, because he not only found his brother, but he found you too.
You — Yuji’s best friend, and who he thought his little brother would eventually date, even despite his protests that the two of you were just friends. You, who had encouraged Yuji to spend time with him, while guarding him as you did, eyes sharp and evaluating around his presence. But that eased with time — and with time, you both had grown up.
You had grown up to be even more beautiful than he thought was possible. And it wasn’t just your appearance — that had shedded the second skin of insecurity and awkwardness that came with adolescence — but it was everything. Even more than before, you radiate warmth, the same kind of warmth his brother did, but instead of a blinding sun, you were soft light that enveloped those you wished to.
And this past month had been an exercise of self control if not torture. Seeing you in the mornings, hair askew as you emerged before Yuji did, a soft smile that he only could hope was reserved for him. Voice thick with sleep as you told him ‘good morning,’ and it was — every time he got to wake to the sight of you.
This morning was no exception, but only cemented that fact.
Although, now that he was waking up beside you, maybe he was wrong, maybe you were blinding — because you blinded from seeing every ounce of logic he thought he had. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths tickling his skin, as his fingers tucked a few stray strands of hair behind your ear.
How were you so beautiful? The back of his finger traced the slope of your jaw, no one should be allowed to be this ethereal — especially while they slept. Your feet stuck out of the blanket, and he fixed it, making sure you were warm enough, but he only succeeded in making you stir.
He froze as you only nuzzled into him further, your fingers grasping at the front of his shirt, while your legs further entangled with his, your waist, pressed right against his and…a particular problem presented itself.
Fuck.
He needed to leave the bed, but how would he without waking you? He carefully slipped his arm away from you, trying his best to detangle your legs from his own. But only for your eyes to flutter open anyway — his breath catching as your half asleep gaze meets his, your lips curling into a soft smile.
“Morning,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep, and god, he hopes you can’t hear or feel how his heart skips a beat at the sound of your voice. You don’t seem the slightest bit concerned at the proximity, your eyes opening and shutting still, “are you okay?”
“I am, thanks to you,” he murmurs, his cheeks warming at the sight of your sleepy smile, as you rubbed your eyes, “did you sleep okay?”
“I did, I think I slept the best I had in weeks,” you admit, as you blink away sleep, and really look at him — only to find him staring, “what?”
“You’re just…really beautiful,” and he delights in your eyes darting away from his shyly, and his fingers brush against your chin, guiding your gaze back to his, “you really have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
And he feels your breath catch — and he wonders if he’s crossed a line, if he should back off, if he had rung a bell that should have never been touched — but your fingers curl around his, lips parted, “Then why don’t you show me?”
He swallows thickly, as he draws closer, thumb rubbing the length of your cheek, and you let him — putty in his hands, “Can I kiss you?” And you nod wordlessly, and he doesn’t wait any longer, his lips brush yours.
It’s chaste, barely a kiss at all, lips parting far too soon, but he can’t help but hesitate, he wants this to be right, he never would want to hurt you — never wanted to even approach that line, much less toe it. But by the way your fingers threaded in his long locks, finding purchase on the back of his neck to only kiss him — he figures he’s fine.
But fuck, you’re more than just fine. You’re everything, everything to him.
Your lips glide against his so utterly softly, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, and you part them for him with ease. He swallows your moan eagerly as he tastes you, as your fingers tug at his shirt, urging him on top, as you roll onto your back for him.
“But—we shouldn’t—” he bites his lip, “Yuji—”
“Who the fuck cares about Yuji right now?” and you’re climbing on top of him this time, your clothed cunt dragging teasingly over his morning wood, as a gasp escaped his lips, “you’re a lot more honest down south, Choso,” you tug your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the floor, his eyes widen, raking over your exposed skin, gasping when you lightly grind down on his already tenting erection, “Yuji doesn’t need to know, as long as we’re quiet,” and you lean down to kiss him.
All sense leaves his mind — right as your lips find his again, and your hands slip under his shirt, the sounds of your kisses ring in his ear, your lips quirking up when your teeth graze against his bottom lip and he groans.
Your fingers pull at the hem of his shirt, and he leans up, helping you toss it onto the ground to join your shirt, “I thought you liked Yuji,” he murmurs, “I never thought you would—“
“Yuji is my friend — my best friend. The only thing we’ve ever come close to sharing is a kiss when we were kids because of a dare, and even then, I had pushed him away,” and you smile that same way that had stolen his breath time and time again, “but I’d never dream of pushing you away, Cho—“
And he’s flipped you under him, your back pressed against the mattress, your breath caught in your throat, as his lidded gaze finds yours, “Even if I make you scream?” His fingers trace down your cheek, the length of your jaw, across your collarbone and down the valley of your breasts, “you won’t mind letting Yuji hear you then? Hear how good I make you feel?” He murmurs, and you whimper as his fingertips breach the edge of your bra, teasing the perked peaks underneath, “won’t push me away when I push into you?”
“Choso,” you gasp, as his fingers roll your nipples between his fingers, “fuck—“
“You have such a filthy mouth for someone so innocent,” he murmurs, voice gliding over your body like velvet, “have to put your mouth to good use, won’t I, baby?” And his fingers glide down your stomach now, teasing the waistband of your shorts, “you like it when I talk like this? I wonder how much,” he hums, his eyes finding yours, looking for confirmation as his fingers drag down gen elastic of your shorts, and sees the wet patch of your slick, “been waiting for this as much as I’ve been, baby?”
“Yes, please,” you whine, and he’s teasing your hardened clit through the wet fabric, “been waiting so long, Cho, please—“
“You were so bold before,” and his lithe fingers are tugging your underwear aside as his fingers circle the outside of your cunt, “does it only take a few touches to have you so pliant under me?”
You pout, and it’s so unfair how adorable you look — god, it was always so unfair how cute you looked — “Please, don’t tease me,”
“How can I not when I waited for this for so long?” he kisses the length of your collarbone, sending a shiver down your body, his knees pressing your thighs apart, as his thumb presses teasingly against your clit, “tell me, how long have you waited?”
“Choso—” you whine, but it falls on deaf ears, even as your hips try to grind against his touch, he’s pressing your hips back down, “I-I don’t know,” but he knows from the way from your forearm covers your face out of embarrassment that you do.
“I know you do, sweetheart,” and he’s easing your arm from your face, thumb dragging down your kiss bitten lips, “don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, “you’re too pretty to hide,”
“Please, just touch—“ and a gasp parts your lips again, back of your head pressing into the pillow as a single digit works it’s way inside your fluttering walls, the wet squelch of your walls against his finger nearly enough to make him cum in his boxers there and then, “Cho, so good,” and god, he’s reaching a hand into his boxers to palm at his aching erection.
“So fucking wet f’me, baby, just for me, right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, his finger was so much longer and thicker than your own, “can’t wait to sink inside you, baby,” and he’s adding another finger, slowly working you open, toying and teasing you until the moans he’d dreamed of spill from your lips again and again. His palm grasps desperately at his weeping erection, imagining your smaller fingers around his cock,
“Choso, s’close, can’t—” a soft groan leaves your lips.
“Cum around my fingers, pretty, fall apart for me,” he grunts, and his thumb bares down on your clit, and you’re tipping over the edge, as your mouth falls open, back arching as you cum hard, pleasure ripping up your body, as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. Your eyes flutter open slowly, as he pulls his fingers from you slowly, your slick clinging to his fingers. You watch him as he presses his fingers into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean of your cum, “best thing I’ve ever tasted, baby,” and he’s leaning to press a kiss to your lips, swallowing your moans with ease, as he lets you taste yourself on his tongue.
And you’re rolling him over onto his back, as his dark gaze finds yours, as you kiss your way down his body, until you settle between his thighs, “My turn to taste you,” you look up with half lidded eyes and curled lips — and his cock twitches even before you even lay a finger on him. Your fingers tug down at the elastic of his waistband of his shorts and pull them down with ease, eyes glazing over as you stared at his bulge, tip weeping against his boxers, a large wet patch that your fingers brushed against.
“I wasn’t the only one who was eager, Choso,” your fingers graze his tip, teasing his slit through the damp fabric, drawing a hiss from his lips, “such a pretty noise,” you press your thighs together, “wonder what other noises I can pull from these lips,”
“Pretty, fuck—“ he grunts as you tug his boxers down finally, his cock slapping against his stomach, as your eyes seemingly dilate at the sight of him.
“You’re the pretty one, pretty boy,” his cock was lovely flushed red, pearly bead of pre-cum dripping from his slit — and god, he’s really sensitive, keening as your fingers wrap lightly around his tip, smearing his pre down his length, “now, who’s gonna be the one to wake Yuji? Gonna let your brother how good it feels have his best friend touch you?” And his cock twitches at the thought, and you don’t miss it, as your fingers begin to slide down to his base, “oh, you want him to hear us? Want him to hear me suck you off too?” And your lips press a chaste kiss to his tip, his hips jerking, as the tip of your tongue traced his weeping slit.
A whine leaves his throat, as your mouth envelops him now, fingers touching what your mouth couldn’t take, your tongue running along his veins.
God, you’re a fucking vision, he nearly blows his load in your mouth as his eyes flutter open to watch you — head bobbing and sucking at his cock, a mix of his precum and your spit dribbling out of the corner of your mouth. His fingers thread in your hair, as he resists the urge to fuck your mouth.
And he’s easing you off, your lips removed with a pop, a string of your saliva and his pre connecting you to his aching erection.
“Such a good girl,” he’s pressing his thumb on your tongue, letting you swallow his precum, “fuck, baby, please, I need you,”
And he’s got you under him again, your legs folded and pressed against your chest, long fingers pressing into his soft flesh, “Choso, fuck me, I need—“ your words cut off as you moan as he drags his cock against your fluttering cunt, your thighs quiver and shake from anticipation, “ngh— ah, stop teasing me,”
“You’ve been teasing me for so long, baby, can I have two minutes?” His tip sinks into you, far too fucking slow, “wanna make this last, been dreaming about this for too long, wanna make you feel good—” now that he’s had a taste, he can’t go a moment without it, your skin the sweetest thing he ever had — he’s no better than a desert wanderer gulping water down for the first time — because now he can’t help but want you swallow you whole.
You whimper, and he can’t hold back anymore at the sight of large tears pooling in your eyes, and he’s sinking into you, inch by inch — and god, your warmth is so much fucking better than he could have ever imagined. And he had, with guilt gnawing at him, as his fingers jerked his pulsing cock off, imagining that it was your pretty pussy he was cumming in, instead of his fist.
You swallow him whole instead, your needy cunt pulling him deeper and deeper, until he finally bottoms out. “Princess cunt gonna make me cum before I even fuck you, baby,” he’s groaning, and your walls flutter around him, tugging him in even before he tries to pull out.
“S’big, Choso — I’m so full, baby,” you’re moaning, fingers trying to find purchase on something, anything, but even so your legs are parting more for him, as he slowly starts to fuck you.
The smacks of your skin meeting his echoes in his ears again and again, your hips rising to meet his thrusts, and he’s so fucking deep — you swear you can feel him in your stomach, tip surely brushing against your cervix.
His grunts only make you wetter, as he pistons his hips desperately, murmuring sweet words in your ear about how perfect you were, how good you were taking him, and how he couldn’t wait to fill you up.
Your eyes squeeze shut as large tears slip down your cheeks, that he thumbs away, finding your lips in a sloppy, messy kiss as he splits you open, “Cho, fuck, please I’m s’close,”
“Cum for me, baby, cum all over my cock,” and his fingers are reaching down, rubbing circles over your clit just as his cock finds that spot that has your back arching and pleasure running up your spine. And you’re gone, squirting all over him, unable to even be embarrassed as he fucks you through your orgasm, his low groan at the fucking mess you’ve made of his sheets and his cock — ring of white forming around his base, as he fucks you through your orgasm, “g’nna cum, where—“
“Inside,” and that’s all it takes for him to fall over the edge with you, his cum painting your walls, spurting as his hips slowed as he fucked his release into you, slowly easing your wobbly legs down, groaning again as he pulls his softening dick from your messy cunt, watching your mixed releases spill from inside you.
He’s rolling off of you, lying beside you, as he cuddles you, burying his face in the nape of your neck, pressing sweet kisses to your still burning skin, “Are you okay?” He murmurs, leaning back, as he runs his fingers through your hair. And his gaze is impossibly soft with concern only for you, “are you in any pain? Do you need—“
And you kiss him softly, still full of need, but just for his presence, for his touch, for him, all of him.
“All I need is you right now, okay?” His cheeks grow even more flushed, eyes shying away, even after all the two of you had done. And as the afterglow ebbs away, your anxieties creep back in — was this just a one time thing? Did he really even like you? Or was this just a matter of circumstance? You were almost too afraid to ask but you were too afraid not to, “Choso—“
“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks, cutting off your sentence, and he’s biting his lip, “sorry did I cut you off-“ and you kiss him again, smiling against his lips, as you pull away, eyes shining, “is that a yes?”
You laugh, “What do you think?” And you kiss him again. And again, and then a thought occurs to you, “you don’t think Yuji heard us right?”
And Choso considers it, checking his phone, “No, he would have been giving us shit about it by now,” and he smiles, “but like you said before, I really don’t want to talk about my brother right now,” and his lips find yours again, “we can worry about telling him later.”
You both have a very late start by the end of this. But the next time someone asked you if Yuji was your boyfriend, at least you could say something else:
You’d smile, and shake your head, showing off your lock screen of you and Choso, “No, my best friend’s brother is the one for me.”
“You owe me 5,000 yen,” Yuji says over the phone, grinning, “I told you they would hook up by the end of the break,”
Kugisaki whines on the other end of the phone, “Fuck, you rigged this, Itadori — I know you must have,”
“It’s not my fault the roads were bad when he was going back to school,” although it was his fault that his brother couldn’t sleep in his room and had no choice but to sleep in his room — but Kugisaki didn’t need to know that, “at least you didn’t have to hear them all morning,”
She laughs, “Oh please, it’s not like I haven't walked in on you and Fushiguro making out, what twice now?”
Yuji’s cheeks flush, “Shut up! And don’t tell anyone about that. She won’t ever let me hear the end of it, and Choso — you know what he did to my ex girlfriend, he practically interrogated her,” he really didn’t want to subject Megumi to that — not yet at least.
“Yeah, yeah, then you better treat me to lunch when we’re back on campus,” and he opens his mouth to reply, “or I might just let it slip to your bestie that you actually don’t have classes on Tuesday and that’s the day you’re gonna spend at Fushiguro’s place,”
“…Nowhere too expensive, okay?”
“You don’t get to make demands in this situation.”
✧ a/n: my itafushi heart popped off sorry hahah. this was a fun concept and i hope you guys enjoyed it!! thank god this one wasn't as long as my last celebration fic :). i was able to finish it in like two days, rather than like a week lmao. i will be doing my original concept for the celebration fic -- it's just taking a different form :) and didn't quite fit these prompts / request like i wanted it to. also yes the title is from that victorious song lmao.
✧ taglist: @celestie0, @that-goth-bisexual, @jj333sworld, @nysrevenge, @gojolvrr34, @crazychaoticizzy, @sunnyf4lls, @ahniebeauxbonnie, @sukaibg, @rrosieroo, @buffytheangelslayer, @alliereece, @strawmariee, @complexivelovely, @fushitoru, @telvess, @firelordazulaaaa, @peachyminx, @celestie0, @ririthedevil, @levyonthelevel, @awniie, @jj333sworld, @strangehuman101, @sailortongue, @nctstrcngencugh, @catsgomurp, @gojoedd, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @ch0c0bsess, @maybe-a-bi-witch, @teatreeoilll, @pricetagofficial,
