#✘ ( ooc ) i'm too short for this shit.

[byanyan]

something something byan ending up in the office on at least half of the days they actually bother showing up to school, specifically for breaking the dress code... some of the teachers eventually hitting a point of letting the less drastic rule violations slide bc they don't want to deal with the scene they know from experience that byan will cause, but then others being especially nit-picky about it... idk I'm just thinking about it tonight

[50thvictor]

ok so I might be quite absent for the next two days! I have a 9 hour late shift today & need to get up early tomorrow to head to my uni city for a thesis consultation hdrjduejdks I can make no promises about how chatty I’ll be bc this is gonna be exhausting, but you can also reach me on discord (@ habemusmamam)

[sonicprim3d]

The duality of man.

[kingspuppet]

Someone tell me why I’m writing up a post that’s supposed to deny the allegations of Goro being psychotic. Also tell me why it was supposed to be a simple “haha stop calling him that” post and instead it turned into me going on a long winded rant about how he’s not crazy, he’s just a little messed up, and here’s the evidence. (With my own added personal thoughts and opinions for flavor.)

[ebitenpura]

me: I feel like i'm forgetting something plotwise. huh. well it's probably not important sleeps

me jolting awake at 4 am : EIGHT CAN'T WORK FOR THE REPUBLIC HIS PAST IS STILL THERE

[norikuna]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[fairymint]

damn, I'm definitely gonna have to put out a Call at a more reasonable hour, closer to a day off. very sleepy today regardless, oof.

[ghostedeabha]

imagine like simon goes into some sort of surgery and has to be put under anesthesia, and when he gets out hes like still high asf on it 💀 and hes being a lil silly goose

okay this is such a cute idea omg, this is 100% based off that tiktok audio where it's like "my wife wouldn't like you touching me like that" "i AM your wife."

thank you so much for the request nonnie, a forehead kiss for you MWAH MWAH

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

wc: 563

warnings: none really, lots and lots of that good ol fluff, mentions of surgery, goofy simon, maybe a little ooc simon (he's high so it's fine)

a/n: i hope this is okay, i'm feeling a bit rusty with my writing but i've finally got back some motivation and energy to do so after the past two months of low energy and bad mental health. if you guys want to know a bit more about it and my mental health (i don't see why anyone would but lmao) let me know, i don't mind making a post about it if you guys want an explanation of some sort or whatever. anywho, sorry this is so short but i hope you still like it!! <3

a/n 2.0: i recently applied for a part time job at a bookstore so y'all pray for me that i get this job because i want it so bad. i am just gonna decide that i WILL get this job, because why wouldn't i?

simon had been out of surgery for just over an hour now, being a soldier you 'd think perhaps he was going under surgery for some kind of wound he had inflicted upon him on the battlefield but no, he was just getting his tonsils removed after a bad bout of tonsillitis ended up with him developing really bad tonsil stones.

so here you were, waiting by his bedside for him to wake up. the doctor and nurses reminded you just as he had gotten out that he may still be a little, well loopy, off of the meds depending on how quickly he woke up. you waited in a chair at his bedside, reading a book when you heard the blankets of the bed rustling just a little.

looking up from your book you see simon starting to wake up and you reach out to grasp his hand, only for him to rip it away from you when his eyes were fully opened.

"uh, si? you okay, hon?" you ask gently, maybe he just wasn't feeling too well after waking up, or perhaps he wasn't wanting physical touch, that happened quite often and you always respected that space he may want when he wanted it.

"don't call me that." simon said, voice hoarse and scratchy from the surgery, he sounded a little angry.

"what?" you questioned, this wasn't like simon, you couldn't understand why he wouldn't want you speaking like this to him.

"i'm taken."

"i know." you replied with a short laugh.

"you should be touching me like that then."

it hit you then, he was woozy from the meds and didn't recognize you. the realization made you laugh a little more. you decided to have a bit of fun with this high version of your boyfriend.

"sorry about that simon. wanna tell me about your partner?"

"oh, (name)? they're amazing, you know they're so pretty. and they're funny too. they always know how to make me feel better, i miss them." simon replies, ranting and raving on and on to you about his partner, about you.

"you love them a lot, don't you?" you ask him with a smile, it felt so nice to hear all these lovely things about yourself, your boyfriend clearly unfiltered by the effects of the anesthesia he was under.

sure he definitely said sweet things to your face, but something about hearing it when he was basically high as shit made your heart pound a little more.

"i love them with my whole heart." simon replies, a goofy little smile on his face.

you can't help but reach out to gently caress his face at those words, body filling up with some much adoration for the soldier in front of you.

"hey! what did i say about touching me. i have a partner!" simon scolds, trying to dodge your touch.

"simon, love... i am your partner. it's me, (name)." you reply with a laugh.

simon takes a good long look at you when you tell him this, he stares at you, looks you up and down before letting out a soft and quiet "oh."

you begin to hear the beeping of his heart rate monitor speed up, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he stares up at you.

you couldn't help but laugh a little more at this. what a sweet idiot. your sweet idiot.

[loveanddeepdick]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 obsessed!gojo x f!reader

cw and notes: sorry if this is short and weird im sick writing this lol, posessiveness, size kink, stalking, toxic behavior, implied on and off relationship, reader is a bit naive, crazy ooc kinda gojo, religous imagery AGAIN bc i love using angels for satoru and devils for sugu, no curse au just regular ol citizens, not proof read

obsessed!gojo who'd never admit how much you affected him. the way your eyes peaked out from under your lashes when you glanced up to meet his, the way you'd get so excited when he bought you something no matter what it was, the way you held his large hand in your small one. he'd scoff, hiding his face from you so you wouldn't see how his breath was caught in his throat or how his cheeks were lightly dusted pink.

he recently bought you a small necklace with an s on it, standing for satoru. you swept any hair that was in the way to the side as he gently clipped it on. turning around, you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, thanking him.

"i know you the best, don't i?" he chuckled, his hand traveling up to your head to dip it into his shirt, turning away so you wouldn't see his face.

"what's wrong, toru?", you curiously lifted your head, tilting it to catch his face.

"sorry, got allergies, darlin". what a liar.

obsessed!gojo who knew you for years, although he was your senior in high school, he noticed you the moment you passed by in the hallway. the way you were laughing with your classmate, not even glancing at him. it was like the stars had perfectly aligned for him to meet you. your white haired savior. he couldn't say anything, the conversation he was having with geto drifting into a void as he kept his eyes glued to your figure walking away.

he had to have you. whether it was in that moment or in 10 years. he did his best to get your attention, gather information about you from shoko and some of the mutual friends you shared with him. finally, finally, in college he had you.

there were definitely guys that he had to get rid of on the way there, but it was all worth it! he'd never kill anyone, never, but he'd drive them out of town, dig up any information about the guy or his family, just to have you alone.

obsessed!gojo who tweaks out the moment he hears someone has a crush on you at your workplace, your 'friend'. you had mentioned it in passing when talking about your day and he nearly snapped on the spot. gojo no longer liked being associated with his family, no, but the thing he never dropped from them was his inheritance. he was wise with his money, investing it and using a private bank, but fuck did he love spending money on anything related to you.

he hired an investigator on the guy, draining every bit of information that he had. the moment they found out he was involved in an illegal supply chain of money, gojo nearly laughed. i mean, it only took a week and he didn't have to lift a finger. he delivers a nice lunch to you on your break, along with flowers and he hates to admit it, but he nearly cums in his pants from your voice message.

"thank you, toru! how'd you know i forgot to pack lunch this morning? you spoil me too much, i'm gonna eat now, thanks again, i love you!" your voice echoed in his living room as he played the message over and over again, the hand holding his phone shaking from your praise. he loved the way your voice drew out the syllables of his name, the way you thanked him.

when you came to visit him that night after work, you told about how the coworker got fired, how someone busted him for illegal activities. toru hummed and shrugged as he opened one of his arms, motioning for you to sit on his lap. who gave a shit about him, you were here, safe with him, that's what matters.

obsessed!gojo whos on his couch, manspreading as you sat so prettily on his lap. he's huge, his arms resting on the couch as he leans back, watching you yap on about how your day was. his hand comes down to your head as you talk about all the snacks you bought with your friends today, petting your hair with the back on his hand before twirling it around his long finger.

it's an odd gesture, but one you got used to. he'd pet you often, as if you were a little bunny, he laughed when you sniffled, pointing out how your nose subtly scrunched up. in bed when you two cuddled, he'd have you laying on his chest as he ran his fingers against your scalps, following the gaps in where you hair parted.

but yet, he'd never admit out loud how much he was in love with you.

obsessed!gojo who you rekindle with over and over again after every big fight somehow. you don't know if it's intentional, but he reels you in with his eyes. he's like an angel, the blue reflecting stars as they draw you in. his hair is soft, like whisps of silk and dandelions. whenever you cuddle with him, he has a distinct scent, not cologne, but like wind in a field of flowers. how a man has that scent, shit you'll never know.

he has you in his arms while he's apologizing over and over again, littering kisses on your forehead as he caresses-no, pets-the back of your head. he treats you like his property, his to spoil, his to always come home to, always his.

tag: @haruhatake

[chaepink]

DAY 16: CLOUDED WITH LUST | SEX POLLEN

aki finds himself in the hands of the lust devil who takes an interest in him

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ PAIRING ⸻ aki hayakawa x lust devil!reader

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WARNINGS ⸻ dom!reader, sex pollen, noncon turned dubcon, hand job, begging, exhibitionism kink, praise, ooc aki kinda, the word dick mentioned way too many times

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WORDS ⸻ 1.7k words

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ NOTE ⸻ so fyi reader is a devil that feeds off lust & could change appearances

KINKTOBER EVENT

"shit shit shit." Aki runs through the streets of the area where he was told to arrive, eyes darting left and right. While he's usually serious and calm, the devil he was assigned to find and exterminate is causing him trouble, proving to be a rather difficult one and could cause serious trouble if it were to reveal itself to the public.

Minutes ago he had his eye on it but foolishly enough, he got focused on talking to teammates and when he looked back to the spot it was supposed to be, it was nowhere to be seen.

Aki takes a short glance at the paper in his hands, quickly rereading the data about the devil he was to get rid of.

Apparently the devil is able to emit a sort of scent that quickly makes those who inhale want to engage in sexual activity and can shapeshift into different people as well. They can be found in dark alleyways where its easier to find victims.

As he turns and finds a dark alleyway, he sees a person walking towards him. He furrows his eyebrows as he slowly walks closer to them, his guard high.

However, as he gets closer he can't help but notice how attractive the person is as he feels his face warm up.

"Excuse me?"

The person pauses their walking and tilts their head in confusion, turning their head around and back to him as if they're not sure if he said that to them or not.

Aki walks up to them and gives them a short nod.

"Have you seen anything strange around here? Or have you heard anything about a possible devil around this area? Specifically a lust devil."

"The lust devil? Well that sounds oddly familiar..." He sees you turn to him with a smile, one that has him unease. While it looks like one of mere innocence, it seems as if its hiding something.

Aki widens his eyes and your smile turns into a sly grin. But its too late.

Before he can do anything, he smells something sweet around him as a thick, pink fog surrounds him. The effects are quick, he remembers reading about them on the paper.

He feels his body heat up and sweat as his dick hardens. He stumbles onto a wall, trying to back away from you. He feels significantly weaker, his legs almost feeling like jelly. In this state, he knows he won't be able to run away.

Raising his hand to use his contract with the fox devil, he opens his mouth but you quickly realize what he's trying to do and with almost inhumane speed, you rush towards him and pin his waists above his head. Aki sneers at you as you give him a grin.

"Well I can't have you using that, can I? That'll be no fun."

"l-let me go!" He begins thrashing in your hold like a disobedient child and you frown. The sweet scent in the air that you released has him feeling dizzy and sticky with sweat. He begins to realize that your hold on him is too strong and turns his head to look around for ways he could escape once he attacks you instead.

But a small touch of your hand palming his clothed dick has him pausing. He gasps.

"w-what are you doing?" He looks at you with widened eyes as you raise an eyebrow at the question. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

You slowly pull down the zipper of his pants, making aki's breath go ragged. Your human appearance has his thoughts messed up about the situation as it almost feels like you're a real person.

He watches as your teeth drags over your teeth, a look of something like hunger in your eyes. He shivers at the feeling of being your prey being his mind.

"Looks like I got a pretty one today." Aki lets out a gasp when he feels his dick in your hands, the cold air making him shiver. "Already hard?" He curses at himself but blames it on that fog thing. He opens his mouth to yell at you but nothing comes out, the words dying on his tongue for some reason.

"Don't worry it won't hurt," you say, hovering your mouth near his ear. "Well, for me at least." Aki winces when you squeeze his dick but he soon lets out a whine when your thumb grazes over the tip. He feels your teeth drag against the top of his ear almost as if you're going to bite it and Aki has to hold back a gasp.

A part of his mind screams at him to try to fight back, to not give in to the pleasure. But another part tells him to just give in. It's been a while since someone touched him like this and the sweet fog you're emitting along with the way you're playing with his dick has his senses overwhelmed. He feels so much more sensitive and it just feels too good, even when you've barely done anything.

When you notice the foggy look in his eyes and the way he stops protesting against your hold, you know you've gotten him where you wanted him to be.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" Aki hesitantly nods, your touches on his dick sending shocks of pleasure up his body. You begin lazily pumping his dick with your fist and notice how immediately turns to putty in your grasp. Letting go of his wrists to put your hand on his waist, you're surprised to see Aki wrap his arms around your neck to stabilize himself. His legs feel so weak and his body feels too hot for him to handle.

"Can.. Can you go faster? Please?" Though he quietly mumbles it, you're able to hear a bit of it and chuckle at his eagerness.

"Faster? Didn't you tell me to let you go earlier?" The teasing look in your eyes as you look at him has Aki send a glare at you but the glare lacks any heat. Rather the glare is begging you to just make him feel good.

"Well?" You pause your hand on his dick. "If you want me to touch you, then beg for it like a good boy."

This is embarrassing, he thinks. No way he would beg a devil for anything, much less beg a lust devil to touch him. His pride is too big for that and he would much rather fight you than have you do this to him.

But even when those thoughts and more pass through his head, the words that escape his mouth are the exact opposite.

"Touch me, please! I-I need it so bad-" He feels your hand return back to his throbbing dick and he lets out a hiss at the pain when you begin pumping it. The pace you set has him throwing his head back against the wall behind him, pleasure overwhelming his body.

"Good boy." He whines at the praise. You feel his pre cum leak out of his dick and soil your hand, the wet sound of it only fueling you more.

His moans and whines flood the alleyway and your ego swells at the sight. You're merely giving a handjob yet you have him turned into a mess in front of you.

He shoves his head in the crook of your neck, muffling his noises and you coo at him. "What? Feels too good with my hand on your dick? You're close to cumming or something?"

Your finger trails along the underside of his dick to his tip and Aki covers his mouth to silence a choked moan. You feel him begin to thrust into the hole your hand made.

"S-Shut up." You let out a disapproving noise. "That's not what you say to someone who's making you feel good. I could just leave you here, you know?"

Fuck, he forgot that you and him are just in a random alleyway and if someone were to pass the area, they would surely catch a glimpse of what's happening. He feels his dick twitch in your hands at the thought and you grin.

Before he could answer, the grip on his waist goes to his hair and he lets out a mewl when you yank his hair back. He squeezes his eyes in pain, the nearby sound of cars and people making him awfully aware of his surroundings. The sinful noise of your hand on his dick doesn't make it any better either.

"Tell me when you're close, alright?" He nods and whimpers when your pace quickens. His knees buckle underneath him and your hand goes back to his waist.

"I-I'm close." You pretend to think about letting him cum or not and he widens his eyes. "Nonono let me cum, please! I'm s-so close ah! o-oh god please!" The noises he's letting out and the way he's pleading you for release is adorable.

"Well, I guess you've been good, haven't you? Go on then, cum for me." Aki nods and he thanks you over and over again for letting him cum before throwing his head back, a scream racking his body as his orgasm crashes down on him.

"O-Oh shit, thankyouthankyou." His eyes roll back and you watch as cum shoots out of his dick, making a mess on his collared shirt and his pants. He whimpers as he finally cums in what felt like forever.

You slow down your pace, easing him through his orgasm. The sight has you breathless.

Aki has his head thrown back against the wall as his cum stains his clothes, the substance dripping down his dick and onto the ground underneath. His hair is ruffled due to you and his shirt is wrinkled. But nonetheless, he still looked like a pretty sight to behold.

Aki manages to recompose himself and stand up properly.

"Well I had fun with you and I'm sure you did too." You glance at the mess he made and Aki's face burns with embarrassment.

You quickly throw him a kiss before turning the corner and disappearing, leaving Aki to think about what exactly just happened to him. The smell of you still lingers in the air, leaving him to find out a way to find you again.

Later when he returns back to his team, his teammate turns to him with widened eyes. "Where have you been? What happened to the devil?" The mention of you has him flush red before stuttering out a total lie.

"They got away."

🏷️: @Vealize21 @fabitheraven @sourissue @jksstuffposts @gallantys @tired-of-life-86 @ineedsleeporilldie @aphoneixnamed-angel @flawlessvictorymentality @wowonamo @euphiroo @saintravey @tomiokx @archer-fb @d1gitalbathh @Lifesucksweswallow @rxflen @Aspengagrimlin @ilovemenwhowhimperandbeg @lamees004 @literary-latte @qweenjx @yenakwyl @deffnotstarguys

[barleyo]

If ur in twd fandom I would loveee a Daryl dixon age gap fic!! Just him being disgusting over taking her first time? Just a major power imbalance between them. Dont do this if ur uncomfy ofc!! Stay safe bookie <33

Men Who Are Older.

Daryl Dixon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: cried happy tears at this request, i LOVE daryl, he's so yummy. dirty old men foreverrrrr!!! i haven't seen all of twd and it's been a while since i've watched it, so this could be super ooc for all i know!! sorry it's short, i wanted to get all my ideas down quickly :3

Tags: LARGE age gap (18-19 and late 40-ish), power imbalance, coercion, p in v, loss of virginity, allusion to anal, creepy old man behavior (ugh i luv it)

Wordcount: 1.2k

You found yourself often visiting Daryl in his tent later in the night when you couldn't sleep. He tried to act like it annoyed him, like your presence was a nuisance to him, but it wasn't. You weren't the most irritating person he had to deal with day-to-day. You were polite enough for your age, you didn't mess around and snoop through his shit. You didn't judge him.

Most importantly, though, you were attractive. There wasn't much hot, young tail to chase around the camp. He liked to think you were his reward for living through hell every day. Nothing like eye candy at the end of the night to ease a hardened man's stress.

It was like most nights when you entered his tent, not bothering to announce yourself. Daryl looked up from the pocket knife he had been mindlessly flicking to eye you down. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" 

"Yeah, right," you said, taking a casual seat on his bedroll. "What're you doing?"

He clicked his tongue at you on his bed, but sighed and ignored it. "Nothing. Too damn late to do anythin' important."

"Want to chit-chat, then?" You rested your hands on your knees, hoping he would soothe your boredom.

"Do I wanna 'chit-chat'?" Daryl flicked his knife closed and tucked it in his back pocket. "If you wanna chat, why don't you go do it with someone else? You don't have friends your age?" 

"I used to." He didn't say anything, just flattened his mouth at your rebuttal. "We're friends though, aren't we?"

Crossing his arms, he let out a hum. "Whatever you want, kid. Sure. We're real pals."

You spoke about whatever came to your mind for the next however-many minutes with him. Mostly just you babbling on, but it didn't bother him. You could run off at your mouth all you wanted, gave him all the excuse to stare you down and look a little too closely at places he knew he shouldn't.

Eventually, you got on the topic of things you missed about life before. Things you wished you got to experience, things you were slowly starting to forget about.

"I didn't even get to properly lose my virginity before this shit took over," you complained, now laying on Daryl's bed like it was your own. "It really bites, man." 

His eyes widened a bit, arms falling to his legs from their crossed position. 

"Wait, what'd y'say?" 

"Huh? Oh, I didn't get to have sex with anyone before the outbreak," you repeated, not caring to turn to face him while you spoke. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'll die before I get any." 

So many things rushed through Daryl's head at that moment. A virgin? You? It wasn't exactly surprising, you weren't old enough for it to be a shocking thing to hear, but the thought really intrigued him. Made him wonder.

It gave him an idea, and lord knows dirty, old men have even dirtier ideas stewing in their minds.

"That bother you?" 

You finally turned your head over to look at him, eyes looking conflicted.

"I guess, a little. There are bigger things to worry about, but I feel like I'm missing out," you said while trying your best to sound nonchalant. "It's not much of a priority, under the circumstances, you know."

Oh, how wrong you were. It very much was a priority, an urgent one at that. 

"Never know. Could happen, if y'really wanted. Don't rule it out completely," he advised, wiping his face with the back of his palm. "Maybe some younger man might find his way here. Could be an opportunity." 

"Nah, I couldn't go for that. I don't wanna be inexperienced and have to deal with an equally inexperienced guy too. That'd be like hell," you joked.

"Sounds like you want an older man, then."

He called on every guardian angel he had in that moment, praying for you to take the bait. Just one chance, damn it, he wasn't asking for much.

"Yeah, guess so." You made eye contact with him for a brief second, before flitting your eyes around in embarrassment. "Listen, it's getting late, I should go." You pushed yourself up, ready to head back to your family.

Daryl stood from his seat and grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

"I don't mind," he said, dancing around the answer to the question you didn't yet ask. "I know my fair share."

"Those don't sound like sounds a virgin'd make," he teased. He loved how you sounded. Straight from a porno, just shameless cries and squeals. "You sure you ain't did this before?"

He watched the back of your head shake 'no' while his hand guided along the arch in your spine. Took you a while to learn to keep your head down and ass up, but damn it if you didn't put the knowledge to work quickly.

"Am I supposed to be dizzy?" you asked, voice muffled by the blankets under you.

Daryl chuckled softly, slamming your hips back on him. "Yeah, if the guy's doin' it right. Feel good?"

Your hands clenched the fabric you were laying on, digging into it roughly.

"I think? I—I dunno, 's just so much."

Being the man he was, Daryl took that as a challenge. He flipped you over on your back, cock still rocking into you. He sped up, letting his movements get sharper. 

"C'mon," he muttered gruffly, trying to urge you to place your legs on his shoulders, "you gonna be this much of a problem for the next guy?"

You gave your weak legs a kick, wrapping them around his neck so the shaking wouldn't roll them off his shoulders. 

"No, no," you whined, groping your tits to keep your hands busy, "don't want another guy. He won't be as good as you, Dar." 

How the hell could a few little words get him ramped up even more? He knew you probably didn't mean it, horny girls said whatever their pussies wanted them to say, but the way he fucked you made you believe your own words.

"Yeah? I ruined ya for other guys already?" 

The stark difference between his now softer tone and rougher thrusts confused your brain in the best ways possible. You couldn't focus on just one aspect of him: Daryl was everywhere. In your brain, in your heart, in the very blood flowing through your veins— and, of course, inside of you. 

It was too much, all of it. 

Your walls clamped tightly over him, sucking him in like a vacuum. The clenching of your walls over his dick sent him over the edge, barely leaving him enough time to pull out. He bit the back of his hand, stifling a moan while he jerked himself the rest of the way off, coating your tired pussy with his cum. 

"You didn't cum inside, did you?" You sat up quickly, scooting back a bit. 

Daryl let out a huff. "I'm not an amateur, I know how to pull out."

"Just checking," you mumbled, lying back down on his bedroll, head nuzzling into the pillow.

You felt his dick push up against your ass, prodding between your cheeks.

"I could show you a way that'll make sure no idiot douchebags get ya knocked up," he offered, head desperately tapping against your asshole, "if you want."

A soft sigh came from your chest as you pushed your ass back on him.

"You're an eager teacher, y'know."

[byanyan]

it appears to be a 'write a few sentences and then just stare at the draft for several minutes before clicking off to another tab, then coming back to start the process over again' kind of night :/

[50thvictor]

officially reached the stage of internal screaming & maniac laughter with my bachelor thesis how are you doing? :)

[mono-dot-jpeg]

bad decisions - i. sae, b. meguru & m. reo

summary; let's make some bad decisions.

genre/extra tags; rambling post?/scenarios???, fluff but not really, diet fluff, and diet angst, late night thoughts combined with day light thoughts, might be ooc

a/n; im gonna go out on a limb here and say you dont want yandere obsessive tendencies in the relationship (i dont write yandere bc i hate that trope and i dont understand the appeal). i only did three bc this was all i can think of, im so sorry- hope you enjoy this either way. thank you for requesting and for your patience.

i think we all saw this coming when i say, sae probably gotta have some odd habits and thoughts when it comes to being a relationship. he's precise and serious in his soccer, and that bleeds into his relationships. it has nothing to you, no, not when he's so used to seeing into every detail and every possibility. he keeps trying to predict what you will do, and then you surprise him when it's not what he expected. most of the time, this happens when you're just doing something without much thought. he gets kind of weird about it though, he just blue-screens and had to take a moment before asking what is wrong with you because you didn't do the thing he expected. you have to tell him that this is just how you are, and he refuses to be outsmarted by his partner when he's usually the one with the brain cell between you two.

he feels the need to check on you a lot because he doesn't express it outright. he observes you like he's in a game match. it's cute at first but then you realize, "oh god he's really paying attention a little too well..."

he hates if you ever even try to interact with rin. he is one jealous little shit. if he's in a good mood [which is hard to tell with him], you have like a higher chance of talking to rin. but most days, he's keeping you away from him.

bachira is unpredictable and he's crazy. he loves you a lot. and i mean a lot. he's extremely clingy towards things he cherishes and that probably stems from the lack of friends he had back then and he's just scared to lose you. but sometimes he really impedes on the day-to-day routine. he needs reassurance when you're gone. he texts you a lot. very standard clingy person.

he feels the need to be a guard dog. he's possessive but not in the way sae would be with his jealously. no, bachira is possessive but he's confident that he will keep you protected from others. but also he loves to wreak havoc so he likes being loud about being clingy and protective. it can get overwhelming.

i'm gonna be real, this one is short because bachira's traits could probably be pretty amplified in a relationship and honestly, i would go as far as to think that most of his traits would just be either better or worse in a relationship.

overbearing. that should be enough to explain it.

he's got a weird complex with him. at least that is what i think. he really stuck with nagi a lot, and i think he would do the same in a romantic relationship. he's gotten too used to coddling nagi and he does the same to you. he spoils you. and it's great at first, but it can be a lot at once. and honestly i think he feels the need to compensate for something. what is the thing he's compensating for? i don't know, but he gives me those "compensating for something with money" vibes.

i think it's safe to say that all the boys have a pride to uphold and reo is no different. he hates being inactive. he wants to help you all the time. and i mean all the time. he wants to be useful but he goes at it terribly. he wants to be relied on.

is it crazy to say that i think reo is the worst out of the three here? probably but whatever.

[ittosthicknjuicyazz]

can you write about some of the hsr men w/ a lover who really likes collecting figures, wearing cute clothes and obbsessed w/ sanrio and stuff like a super girly s/o (sorry idk how to explain shit)

HSR Characters x s/o who enjoys cute things

a/n: nah you're good I'm bad at explaining too💔 I hope this meets your expectations since I added a bit more than intended.

warnings: might be ooc, rushed (sort of), some of these had more effort than others 💀, no specific gender or pronouns used, lmk if I should add more

Dan Heng

Upon meeting you, he was flashed with your (fav color) clothing. Was even a bit stunned by your cute clothing style.

When you joined the express and got your own room, him and the Astral Express Crew watched as you lugged box after box into your new room.

Days later, They were invited into your room, or better yet your gallery of figurines of anime characters and Sanrio. Not to mention your obvious theme of (color).

He was impressed by your interior design abilities.

And was almost embarrassed to invite you into his room that was also the archive room.

"Sooo, why is your room the archive room? Not judging! Just wondering is all," you asked him. He shrugged, "I'm not sure, It's more comforting in here I suppose." Comforting? This was comforting?

The day the two of you got together, with the help of Cupid and her assistant (March and Caelus LMAO), Dan Heng bought you a Cinnamon key chain and presented it to you after he asked to be your boyfriend, to which you said yes to.

You cheesed so hard afterwards. The keychain now hung on any part of you at all times, whether it was the belt hoop on your pants or hooked onto the backpack you decided to wear that day. It always stayed on you.

Pompom once complained about your crippling addiction to buying cute things. "You're going to flood the Express with all these things you keep buying!" they scolded.

It didn't get any better when Dan Heng walked in. "And you!" Pompom turned to him, pointing an accusing finger at him, "you need to stop encouraging your partners shopping addiction!"

Did the scolding stop the two of you? No it did not.

The following day, you and Dang Heng stood side by side with matching fluffy sweaters with cute accessories and make up that slayed.

"There's no stopping you is there...?" Pompom sighed, defeated.

Aventurine

"Oh? And who's this cutie?" he questioned, grinning at the figure that stood next to Jade. "Oh, this? This is (name), they're new here! Don't they have a killer style?"

Yes, Aventurine agreed. He loved the cute fluffy Kuromi sweater you wore and matching black shorts and shoes, your make up also fitting the color scheme.

The next time he went shopping after that, he spotted a Hottopic and immediately thought of you. He figured he'd be seeing you again and decided to buy you a Kuromi keychain. And Hello Kitty headphones. And Cinnamon wallet.

The two of you only met once and he's already gifted you three things that probably cost more than you'd like to think about. "Thanks, I guess! But why would buy such nice things after meeting me once?" you asked.

He shrugged, "I just saw the hottopic and thought of you, Cutie. You stand out to me, after all."

Truth was, he was intrigued. How could such a cute thing such as yourself be a part of an organization such as this one? How did you find yourself with a position here? Were you the same as him or did you come here all on your own? He had a lot of questions for you, but didn't dare to ask you. Not just yet.

Looks can be deceiving, he learned. You joined him on his mission to Penacony and witnessed first hand the skills you had that probably got you into (I forgor the name). He also learned that you could very well hold your own. How can you make fighting look so...cute?

After his encounter with Sunday, you tried so desperately to find him. You wanted to make sure he wasn't hurt, you were afraid you wouldn't find him in time.

By the time you did find him, it was too late. His form had changed and he was battling the Astral Express Crew.

You only met up again after it was all over. You expressed your concern and told him what happened after you two got separated. He didn't want to admit how it made him feel.

"Also I'm sorry...I sort of lost the Kuromi keychain you bought me while I was trying to find you," you apologized.

To think you cared so much about his safety that you ended up losing your precious keychain.

He chuckled, "That's alright, Cutie. We can always get you new one." He pat your head, slightly ruffling your hair. Gods above, even your hair was soft and cute.

After a year of denying his feelings, buying you gifts, pushing you away and pulling you back in only to push you away once more, an almost never-ending cycle.

After you told him about himself and how he constantly played with your feelings, he was able to snap out of it. In that moment, he truly felt as if he was going to lose you.

Your usual cute outfit replaced by something dull and boring compared to your usual. He knew he fucked up.

And in the heat of the moment, he ended up spilling everything. His fears, his past, his feelings about his so called gift, his feelings about you.

His confession was said so abruptly that you weren't sure how to react. Should you be mad? Happy? Confused even?

"Sugar? You okay? I know that was a lot and I'm sorry..." Aventurine ducked his head, looking down at his shoes shamefully. He felt mega embarrassed for dumping all of that onto you.

"I love you, Aventurine. Please, never think for a second that I'd leave you. Not if I can help it."

Aventurine promised himself to always keep yourself from loosing your bright colors ever again. He never wanted to see you in the state you were in that day again, not if he could help it.

Blade

You were the complete opposite of this man. His dark colors and brooding personality a stark contrast from your colorful clothing and bright smile.

That's why Kafka thought you two were perfect for each other. You know how the saying goes, opposites attract. Plus she hoped you'd be able to bring him out of his shell.

Upon meeting for the first time, he showed no reaction. Didn't even comment on your super adorbs outfit. Though he did catch a glimpse of the hello kitty keychain that hung on your hip.

You followed his gaze and realized he was looking at the hello kitty key chain. "Do you like Hello Kitty?" you asked that bright smile of yours. Before he could respond, you detach the keychain and held it out for him.

"Here, for you," you gifted. "I don't need that," he responded, rejecting the gift. "Oh c'mon, think of it as a first meeting gift," this was the best excuse you could come up with on the spot. Truth be told, you just wanted to see this cold brooding man with a hello kitty keychain, oh how hilarious that would be.

He grunted but took the keychain anyways.

Mission after mission together and finally Blade was able to open up a bit, especially after the mission at the Xhianzou Lofuo.

On the way back their base, Kafka caught Blade gazing at the Hello Kitty keychain he held so dearly in his palm. She grinned and leaned in close, "they've done much for you during this mission, don't you think they deserve something in return?"

And you did receive something in return. Once the two of you were alone, Blade gifted you a kiss, "thank you," he said, pulling away.

Of course, that wasn't enough for you. So you pulled him back in, neither of you letting go until you were completely out of breath.

Never did he expect such actions from a cute thing like you.

From then on, whenever Blade spots Sanrio, figurines, or the clothing style you liked so much from shopping districts in the planets he visited, he doesn't resist on buying anything he thought you'd like.

"Seriously? More things? How big are your pockets man?" Silver Wolf complained as she spotted Blade walking down the street with multiple bags in hand.

"It's for (name)," he explained. "Right, of course," she answered sarcastically. Who else would it have been for anyways?

[receedingdawn]

Cookies And Acrylic

Pairing: Logan x Reader

Summary: When anxiety keeps the art teacher awake at night, she comforts herself with late-night shenanigans and a surprise guest.

Warnings: OOC for Logan (Sorry he can be IMPOSSIBLE to write for but I love him dearly, fluff, pining

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I'm so sorry I wrote this at like 1 am because I could not sleep, very fitting for this one shot though... Also unedited because I didn't feel like it!

Read on AO3

Groaning as you twisted and turned in bed, you rolled over to check the time. It was one of those nights where no matter how hard you tried to lift into that blissful rest you so desperately craved, it never came. A pitiful sound escaped you as the clock read two in the morning, too late to have a good night's rest, yet too early to be up. Rolling back over, you contemplated your next actions for a few seconds. Sleep never came easy, especially during the nights that you were kept up with anxiety. 

When asked to help out at Charles’ school for the gifted, you instantly agreed. You knew how the rest treated mutants of the world, you practically leaped at the opportunity to help out. It was a harsh world they were born into, and you made it your goal to help as many out as you could. How much stress the job would give didn’t dawn on you when you started. Nights like this where you lay awake, your mind stuck on the endless probabilities of the children being hurt while in your care. You knew the rest of the team would be there to help if anything happened, but anxiety doesn’t always need a reason to happen. It just does.

Deciding to walk around the building to calm yourself, you got out of bed with a sigh. You changed your sleep shorts into flannel pajama pants in fear of a student discovering you wandering around the school in the middle of the night. The last thing you wanted to do was accidentally traumatize a student with their half-naked teacher roaming the halls in the early hours of the morning. Sliding your feet into a pair of slippers, you made your way out of the room to begin your adventure around the perimeters.

It was incredibly calm with the habitants of the house fast asleep, keeping the building at an eerily quiet tone as you wandered the rooms. You padded to the kitchen, in search of a glass of water and maybe a late-night snack. At this point, would it be considered an early morning snack? You didn’t care enough, all you knew was that a secret tin of baked goods was calling your name. Ororo had been into town a few days before, stopping at a bakery on the way home. She had selflessly bought a pack of assorted goods for her fellow teachers on the way home, hiding them in the back of the pantry as to ward off sneaky students.

Taking a simple chocolate chip cookie out, you decided that instead of water, of course, you needed milk with it. Even though you were well into adulthood, no single person could be too old for the comforting taste. You grabbed a random mug from the cabinet, pouring yourself a glass before sitting down at the kitchen table in silence.

Holy shit.

Ororo wasn’t lying when she said the bakery was the best she had ever been too. It had been a few days since she brought them home, yet the taste could still bring tears to your eyes. You had no idea such a regular-looking cookie could be borderline orgasmic. 

“Am I interrupting something?” The rough voice awoke you from the temporary trance the heavenly treat had you in. Your eyes snapped to the dark doorway of the kitchen, noticing the gruff man. Logan was leaning on the side of the frame, his arms crossed while his eyebrow was cocked playfully. You chuckled to yourself for a moment, realizing the absurd position the man had caught you in.

“You might be, I was having some sweet alone time with the newfound love of my life,” you giggled, pointing to the half-eaten cookie. Logan rolled his eyes as he sauntered into the kitchen, making his way to the pantry. He opened up that tin you had just been in, grabbing himself a helping. Shooting a look in your direction, he held up the cookie as if wordlessly saying “It better be good” before taking a bite.

“Holy fuck, what the hell did they put in here?” The man let out in the middle of chewing, his voice muffled by the crumbs. You stared at him for a second before bursting out into laughter at his unusual response. Logan was always one for seriousness, you had never seen this side of him before. The severe nature of the man never bothered you, it drew you in. He fascinated you with his witty remarks and lack of social interaction with the others. Logan was an outcast in a place where no such thing existed, and you had always wanted to figure him out. Jean would call you out on those thoughts, saying it was a crush, but the word made you feel like a school girl following around her boy of the week.

“I think Ororo said there was a sign in the shop that said Made with EXTRA love, but I honestly think it might be drugs.” You said after finally getting a hold of your laughter, causing the man to crack a slight grin. God, if you could take a picture there and frame it, you would. He never smiled, he smirked, but never a true smile.

“Definitely drugs,” Logan remarked, finishing the last of his cookie. He wiped the excess crumbs off his hands and rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. You did your best to not make it obvious you were staring at the veins in his arms as he lathered them up.

“What are you doing up?” You asked him, forcing yourself to think about something other than his well-built body. The man quickly dried his hands before facing you again, “Couldn’t sleep.” There was the Logan you knew best, the one who gave short answers with little to no context. You cocked a brow at him, telling him that answer wasn’t good enough.

“Nightmares,” He let up after a few moments, finally giving you an answer. Shooting him an understanding look, you got up to clean your mug and throw away the napkin your snack had been on.

“I get it, between my nightmares and anxiety I rarely ever sleep.” You responded, voice low with the admittance. The man nodded in understanding, knowing exactly what you meant. He was well acquainted with the nightly battles one who had been through the events either of you had been though fought every night. Logan was surprised to feel he felt bad for you, even though the admission wasn’t a surprise to him. Most who lived at the mansion had some sort of trauma to get through and lived with the reminders of it each day. He was more surprised that it didn’t cross his mind you struggled with it. You were a light in the mansion, both students and other teachers adoring you. It was completely understandable, in a world of chaos and unknowns you were a beacon to everyone. Your kindness and warmth radiated to all those who were in your vicinity, and they did not take it for granted.

“I’m in the same boat princess,” Logan said, moving himself away from the sink to give you room to clean the dirty dish. You both sat there while you scrubbed, the sound of the faucet filling up the silence. He just stood there, watching you as you worked. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, it almost felt as if he was studying you.

“Are you going back to bed?” You asked after putting the now clean and dry mug back into the cabinet. Shaking his head no, Logan made his way to the hallway to go back to whatever he was doing before interrupting you. You called out after him before he left, causing him to turn around.

“Have you ever painted?”

In the over a millennium he had been alive, Logan Howlett never thought he would be caught dead with a paintbrush in his hand. He had no idea why he agreed to a painting lesson in the early hours of the morning. Logan knew everyone at the school was equally obsessed with you, which resulted in him usually keeping his distance. He knew you were a gorgeous and kind individual, but he never caved to his urge to get to know you.

“You’re psyching yourself out, it’s written all over your face, Lo.” His gaze snapped from the small tool to you in an instant. You had never called him by a nickname before, and the way it rolled off your tongue sounded like music to him. He gripped the paintbrush with such a force you had never seen before, causing you to almost let out a giggle. Sitting on your bed, cross-legged, with a brush in his hand, he looked extremely out of place. A man with hands the size of his had no business being even close to a paintbrush, let alone using one. The jeans and white tank top he practically had glued onto his body at all times had no business being on your bed, but he had no complaints if it meant he got to spend a few moments with you.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” How could he follow your lead when you worked so meticulously? The man just stared at you as you worked, your talented hand shaping out a small tree on the canvas. He stared for a few moments, coming to the realization he could watch you for hours and not get bored. Didn’t people say watching paint dry was excruciatingly dull?

“You’re worse than my students,” you joked, noticing the lack of paint on his canvas.

“None of your students have metal for bones, it makes it harder,” You both knew Logan was just coming up with excuses to get away with his little creative talent.

“I have a boy in one of my classes who had feet for hands, you’re pulling things out of your ass Logan.” He was caught there.

“Enough, just help me.” His hazel eyes shined playfully, holding out his hand to help him again. You rolled yours back in response, leaning over to help him. Taking a hold of his hand, you guided his movements on the canvas. Your breath caught as you felt how strong Logan felt under you, despite him letting you be in control.

You couldn’t help but feel that it was almost domestic, the two of you sitting on your bed in silence while participating in your favorite activity. No answer as to why he would agree to this came into your head, but you weren’t mad.

“Alright Edward Scissorhands, your turn to try by yourself. You can be a big boy and do it yourself, can’t you?” Teasing him, you went back to your work. It was a simple scene of the courtyard out back, showing off the gorgeous greens of the trees. Logan couldn’t help himself but watch you, continuously messing up his own work in the meantime. After finishing yours, you looked up, noticing the mess left on the man's canvas.

“I tried,” He shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment.

“I know you did,” Your genuine response took him by surprise. Logan assumed you were going to have some cute quip to respond with, but this one was different. Not everyone was cut out for making art, but he had tried. Never in a million years would anyone who knew Logan would think he would even think about partaking in a hobby. Yet here he was, getting out of his comfort zone (while multitasking and checking you out).

You helped him finish his painting to the best of your ability, yet it came out comparable to Charlie Brown’s old Christmas Tree. Logan knew he had no creative bone in his body, but boy did he try his best. You joked that his finished product was similar to Charles’ old burnt tree in the courtyard, and he chuckled in response. He signed his initials at the bottom and dated it as well. You started to pack up the supplies while Logan helped clean off brushes.

“I’m keeping this,” You held up his work while grinning, He groaned in embarrassment at the thought of others coming into your room and wondering what the abomination was.

“Jesus Christ,” Running his hand through his hair, Logan gave you a pointed look. There was no way in hell you wanted to keep his god-awful creation to yourself.

“Listen, in fifty or so years I can sell this for crazy money. A painting made by The Wolverine himself, you could make me rich Lo!” There was that nickname again, and it suddenly made him okay with you taking it.

“So you’re just using me,” He muttered sarcastically, causing you to giggle in response. You handed him your painting as a consolation for your gold digger behavior. Logan would not admit how taken away he was by the action, instead he just stared at you again. You looked back at him curiously, wondering where his words went. He genuinely had no words, it had been a while since someone gave him a gift, even if you wouldn’t consider it.

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” you had just given Logan a masterpiece and that was all you had to say about it? It annoyed him how sweet you were, and he knew this was going to become a problem for him. 

“Despite the looks of it, I did have fun. Thanks for making the night bearable, princess.” You both got up, giving each other one last look. In a moment of courage, you stood up on your toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, I needed this,” you responded after lowering yourself back down. Logan noticed you blushing at the peck, which almost made him chuckle. Closing the door behind him, you made your way back to bed, hoping you could get at least a few hours before the next day came.

Logan made his way back to his room, studying every paint stroke of yours as he did so. He had never been interested in the arts before and was now obsessing over what he thought to be the second most beautiful thing he had seen in his life. The man concluded that you were the first. He decided to place it on the small table next to his bed, the piece standing out in his sparsely decorated room. Before setting it down, Logan looked at the back of the painting to see the words To: Lo written on it. 

~

Let me know if you guys liked this or not, I don't know how I feel about the ending tbh... To my friend that I admitted to in a Canes that I was writing fanfic again, I love you.