#so i want fluff

[coffee-in-veins]

Day 29: Festival

an entry for darkest prompts promptober 2022  

previous days: 1, 2, 3,  4, 5, 6,  7,  8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

now available on ao3 too

Festival NOUN - a day or period of celebration, typically for religious reasons; an organized series of concerts, plays, or films, typically one held annually in the same place.

* * *

My lover's got humour She's the giggle at a funeral Knows everybody's disapproval I should've worshipped her sooner

-- Take me to church by Hozier

There was no surprise, Dismas supposed, that the Glorious And Blessed And Most Certainly Not Corrupt Church Of Holy And Divine Light was an organization fucked up to its very core. And he was saying that not only because a structure so widespread was inevitably corrupt and fucked up. Hell, he’d say for the most part at least they’ve played pretend well enough and used a lot of gilding to hide their real affairs. Most people genuinely saw them as benign – even those who worked there. Church devotees somehow managed to either turn a blind eye or even justify all of the completely messed up atrocities their beloved Church committed.

And commit cruelty the Church did! Like human trafficking disguised as finding gifted kids. Or self-torture which was proclaimed as the true path to righteousness. Or ban on food in those few merry months when getting it wasn’t as infuriatingly hard as it was at other times. Or forcing its most devoted lunatics to wake up in the middle of the night to praise the Light which wasn’t even fucking there for at least five more hours. Or any other things which made even bloodthirsty ex-brigand cock a disbelieving brow because what the actual fuck, how is any of this can be alright, Reynauld.

He was thinking this not only because he had the unfortunate experience of working in big voracious groups, and could tell countless tales of how any group which got any real power became fucked up quickly enough. One could argue that happened because he was only working with scum and mercenaries. Dismas could shrug in turn that it wasn’t rogues who invented indulgence. However, mostly he deduced that by being forced to work together with zealots and seeing how the glitter inevitably fell away each time their resolve was tested and failed, revealing tormented, broken people in places of former living saints.

But if there was one thing where even godless highwayman had to admit that the Church knew how to use to sell itself to the masses, it was the festivals it held for the devotees and “silly lost heavens” alike. No expense was too great, to extravagance too opulent, and if it was created by the free labour of its followers, so be it. Even in the forgotten backwaters of Hamlet, church celebrations were a captivating thing of beauty and carefully planted hope.

All Saints Day was no different.

Maybe it was the candles, white and pristine, and not offending his senses for once. Maybe it was the procession, sweet-smelling with frankincense which Dismas inevitably started associating with safety. Maybe it was the rare glimpse of optimism on people’s faces.

However, most likely it was the fact that Reynauld found his white holiday garments and was proudly wearing the new crest. There was an odd satisfaction in the highwayman’s chest when he had seen it – or the subtle yet obvious change in the other man’s posture, in the way the knight held himself. That made the cut spent on ordering the crest so much worth it and made the holiday actually bearable.

“Ready?” Reynauld turned to him, radiating against the sunset seeping into the room. Dismas just huffed with a half-shrug and scratched his unusually shaved chin which felt unpleasantly naked. On top of that, he had bothered to find a clean shirt – mostly because Rey tricked him beforehand and his favourite one was still wet. Still, that should’ve accounted for something.

Apparently, it was enough, since the crusader grabbed their candles and hurried outside to join his flock, babbling happily about The Forerunners of the Light, but made sure to include some of the spicier tales of the saints to keep Dismas entertained. A most welcome precaution, albeit an unneeded one – the rogue was surprising himself by simply enjoying the time they were spending together. The candles drew intricate glowing patterns on Rey’s chiselled face and hearing his voice being so uncharacteristically happy was a treat on its own. Despite hot droplets of wax falling on his fingers and the overall church nonsense around, the ex-brigand was content to be there.

That was, before they met the Abbot.

Because Reynauld immediately rushed to His Holiness, leaving him behind, and Dismas’ good mood burst like a soap bubble.

Sure, “I’ll be right back,” the other man said.

“Just stay here,” the knight threw over his shoulder as he was sprinting away.

“Don’t let the candlelight die,” he reminded the rogue, already from afar.

It was almost poetic that the next gust of wind left rogue’s candle with but a whiff of smoke coming from the glowing wick – but then again, maybe he was merely self-sabotaging as always, and let his hand fall to his side instead of shielding the gentle light. Despite the laughter and flickering candlelight all around him, he remained in the shadows. As one with his background should be, arguably.

He was oh so tired of chasing glisten.

With an exhausted sigh, the seasoned sinner turned and sulked away from the glimmering procession towards the dingy-lit windows of the Tavern – the only light which remained in his life, apparently. So much for trying--

“Dismas? Dis! Where are you?” a familiar voice called behind him, followed by heavy footsteps and a knight stopped in front of him, barely keeping his candle from going out. “There you are! I asked you to wait for me, why wouldn’t you?”

“You… came back,” Dismas muttered, unable to quench the surprise in his voice.

“Of course I did, I told you I would, didn’t I?” the knight cocked a heavy brow. It looked so odd on his usually vexed face, and so familiar. He must’ve picked some of the highwayman’s mannerisms. “I had to remind His Holiness that I cannot do my duties as Relic Bearer this year.”

“You cannot?”

“It’s the head of the procession and I know you hate the limelight. Besides, you’d have to abstain from booze and hearty foods for a week to be allowed there, and I didn’t want to—Dismas, your candle!”

Too stunned by the new information, the highwayman blinked at the half-melted piece of wax in his hand:

“What ‘bout it?”

“It went out,” Reynauld complained as if it was a tragedy.

“Ah,” Dismas paused and technically didn’t even lie when he said. “Wind.”

“Oh, those are holy flames, Dis, you’re supposed to take care of them,” Rey glanced around like a boy who was about to yank someone’s braid and stood towards the ex-brigand. “It’s frowned upon, but I want you to keep the flame…”

Wicks touched, charred against burning, and in a few moments, there were two tiny flickering lights to chase the darkness away, like two unsteady heartbeats suspended in the night. Dismas supposed it was fitting, that Rey’s broad smile was outlined with a golden glow. He was breaking the rules, maybe, but he was breaking the rules for them… whatever they were.

“Let’s go back to the festival, I haven’t told you the story of Saint Elmo, I think you two would have had a lot to talk about if you ever met…”

[jjk4isen]

super annoying gojo satoru when a girl comes up to you and asks you if he's your brother even after clearly seeing him grabbing your ass and saying super cheesy lines to you to make you only roll your eyes at him.

and you're stuck dumbfounded because it's not rocket science to figure out that you two are a thing just by looking at the both of you because the clingy bastard is quite literally stuck to you everywhere you go, whining and pleading for yet another kiss after stealing several from you.

and it's the same clinginess that prompts him to answer in your stead "yes actually. we're siblings" he beams a smile at you and you scowl, why the hell is he feeding onto this random girl's delusions like that? can't he take the hint?

you're not done scrutinising him when he grabs your chin with his big ass hands and smashes his lips onto yours, tugging and devouring your mouth into an extra sloppy kiss for the girl to take a hint.

he pulls away, a smirk on his lips as he licks his lips where yours had been a second ago. "is that obvious enough?" he chuckles, eyes never leaving yours as you see the girl storm off in the corner of your eye.

[fairiesthrum]

reader who can’t stand satoru but then he gets hit by a curse that turns him into a cat. you find him, to his dismay, and take him home, only for him to realize how different you are when he isn’t around to pester you.

at first, he causes a lot of trouble. breaking things in your house, tearing up the pillows. he just wants to be a human again, but nobody can understand him! but you still take care of him and coddle him no matter how much trouble he causes, so different from how people treat him normally, as if he were a nuisance (which he kind of was on purpose). and he finds himself falling for you without realizing it.

so he stops being a bad cat, steadily losing hope that he’ll ever be human again. and satoru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy how you stroked him while you read a book or let him sleep beside you at night. maybe it wasn’t so bad? so he decided then if he was going to be just a cat, he was fine with being your cat.

the higher-ups had taken note of his absence, obviously, and he only knows cause you’ve mentioned it to him. you had this endearingweird quirk where you’d talk to him as if he were a real person.

throughout his stay in your home as a house pet, satoru finds out a lot about you. you’ve always kept to yourself, but you vent your frustrations out to him while he’s like this, and he offers his comfort the best he can. which you appreciate, rewarding him with kisses that he secretly enjoys.

once he turns human again, by some miracle, his first thought is to go and find you. and when he does, you give him the cold shoulder like you used to, and it surprises him. before he realizes that, ah, he wasn’t your pet anymore. he was gojo satoru.

satoru realizes his feelings for you in that moment. when he feels the ache in his chest from your dismissive behavior, it leads him to starting his most important mission yet—winning your heart once more.

but this time, it’ll be as a person, not a damn cat.

[hellishattempt]

nanami kento comes home on a saturday afternoon, hands full of groceries and hair freshly cut. in the distance, he hears his precious wife humming along to her favorite soundtrack. you must not have heard him come in. he smiles to himself, setting the groceries on the counter, but not unloading them. that can wait. right now, he wants to hold you.

he slips out of his shoes, padding quietly to the laundry room where you are folding towels. you have your back to him, headphones lodged in your ears. as nanami gets closer, the music bleeding from your headphones becomes audible. he chuckles softly. no matter how many times he tells you it's bad for your ears, you insist on listening to your music at just below full volume.

snaking his arms around your waist, you jump at the sudden contact. nanami presses his chest against your back as you take out your headphones, leaning into his touch. you sway in silence for a moment, nanami resting his chin on your shoulder. when you turn to face him, your expression changes at the sight of his hair.

"your hair," you state dumbly. "you cut it."

"yes," your husband muses. "is there something wrong with it?"

"no, no!" you assure nanami, studying his hair. "i just wasn't expecting it. you normally have me do it, which you know i don't mind doing."

"i know, but i didn't want to bother you on your cleaning day."

your expression softens at his words. nanami, your ever loving, ever caring husband, always thinking about you before himself. you reach one hand up, smoothing the hair down the back of his neck. as you bring your hand up, the freshly cut hair pricks your palm, and nanami lets out a low hiss.

you immediately apologize, pulling away. "did that hurt?"

"yes, but it's okay. it felt... good," nanami confessed. "... do it again. please." his voice is thick and demanding, and you obey without hesitation.

this time, you use just the tips of your fingertips to graze his undercut, beginning at the base of his neck. his breathing quickens as you continue to to run your hands through his undercut, going up and down, switching from one hand to both, thumbs caressing the sides of the cut. the laundry room fills with his melodic whimpers and faint groans. his eyes are shut tight, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"fuck..." he cusses lowly.

"you okay, nani?" you giggle, stopping momentarily. his eyes flash open, pupils blown. "kento?"

"let's go to the bedroom," he insisted, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the master bedroom. you barely have time react before nanami pushes you back on to the bed, practically ripping your leggings off.

"kento, what are you doin-" you try to protest, his hands clamping around your wrist and bringing them down to grip his hair. his head disappears between your leg, lips latching around your clit. involuntarily, your fingers tighten around his sharp undercut. he moans into your cunt, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body.

from then on, nanami kento always got an undercut.

[tswkento]

inappropriately touching nanami in a crowded elevator;

your nimble fingers pulling down the zip of his slacks and your hand sneakily prodding through the freed entrance as he grabs the metal bar behind himself, hoping no one notices anything.

and you’re the perfect picture of nonchalance: pretty face directed forward, the curled corner of your lips that he is able to distinguish from your profile telling him that you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself, and your pace unrelenting as you stroke him through his briefs.

up and down, up and down, up and down while kento feels like he is losing his mind, and why the hell is this elevator so slow and there’s so many people and no ounce of shame in you. same for him, though, he is worried if he should be disappointed with himself for giving in to his desires right in the crowded elevator or impressed by how persuasive you can be to convince him that it’s okay.

there was no persuasion from you, by the way — just a cute little smile at him whilst your eyes glimmered with mischief and nanami knew he was fucked.

when the last person, aside from him and you, leaves the elevator, you finally take out your hand in time with him pushing the “stop” button and pressing you against one of the cold walls, one veiny hand wrapping around your throat loosely as the other grips your bottom.

and kento kisses you like a thirsty man drinks water; he devours your mouth until all you can do is twitch in his hold as his thumb presses on your clit just right. rubbing, tugging, teasing and prodding while his lips encase your tongue between them and you grip the sides of his head, ruining his hair.

and when you come with a whiny moan escaping your pretty mouth, no thoughts behind your cloudy gaze and arms gripping his shoulders, nanami barely stops his hips from rutting rhythmically against the smooth surface of your thighs because him being a mess is only for your eyes whilst he doesn’t mind others seeing your fucked out face. they’ll know it’s from him anyway.

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[emmyrosee]

Could you maybe do smth like cuddling with sukuna

👉👈

Backs facing each other, you gently nudge his legs with your foot, smiling as you’re able to wiggle it between his calves. He traps your foot between his legs, and you giggle when you try to pull it back.

“I’m on insta, fuck off,” he grumbles, but you hear the annoyed smile in his voice.

“I wanna snuggle,” you mewl.

“Yeah, and I want to see how this dude makes this garlic bread.”

You slip your own phone off the nightstand and open your message app, clicking his name and quickly typing.

SENT I want attention, boyfriend 🫶🏻

You hear him snort and blunt nails briefly scratch down the sole of your trapped foot, making you try to tug it back and squeal in surprise. “You want attention?” He begins, letting go of your foot so he’s able to turn on his side and spoon you from behind, body contorting to be straight curled behind you. “Well let me tell you something- I always give you my damn attention. You just can’t live without it.”

You practically purr as he loops his arms around you, tugging you closer and letting his warm hands slip under your hoodie, warm touch on your tummy relaxing you. “You’re right,” you hum. “I just want you all to myself all the time. Not my fault you give in.” He hikes up his voice to offer you a mocking “mi meh mi meh mi”’s. You call him a brat in reply.

“If you won’t let me scroll on my instagram, scroll on yours so I can watch,” he demands.

“I can’t, I follow naked anime men.”

“Im sure you’re joking, but so help me god if you go on Instagram and there’s a naked anime man, I’m blowing up your phone.” You offer him a laugh and slip out your phone to scroll, relishing in the little kiss he plants to your jawline, then adjusting his head to be able to watch your timeline with you.

You can’t help but grin as you feel one of his feet prod to try and get between your legs, mimicking how yours was just moments ago.

[theghostinyourwalls]

Do the sexy face babe 🤤

[briefkittenearthquake]

I like my men smart

[antomatkoen]

soap definitely didn’t wear the skull earrings for a certain someone…👀

soap shows up at a bar all dazzled up after losing a bet :3

[ylangelegy]

mingyu is absentmindedly scrolling through instagram reels when he finds a video of a content creator in his kitchen. his caption is simple enough: meals i made for my girlfriend this week.

mingyu watches, slightly bored, as the influencer shows off everything from at-home matcha lattes to vegetable omelettes. he's just about to scroll away when the influencer shows off the last meal: a bento box.

mingyu rewatches that part once. thrice, even. he's had dosirak countless of times before, but this one is different. it's— cute.

mingyu looks up a hashtag of #bentoboxlunch and is absolutely floored. there's rice shaped like sanrio characters, and boiled eggs with nori eyes, and hotdogs cut up to look like octopi!

mingyu, who has always taken pride in cooking for you, in making your favorites of bibim-guksu and jajangmyeon, finds an entirely new purpose.

mingyu blows an inordinate amount of money on supplies. character picks, rice shapers, vegetable cutters. in between schedules, he watches how-to videos. when you're asleep at night or he wakes up earlier than you in the morning, he quietly pads around the kitchen to practice.

mingyu spends a good three or so months stealing away this new hobby, hiding it from you, until he decides his skills are up to par. with the intensity of which he's going about this, you'd think he's competing on master chef.

mingyu who, one morning, nonchalantly informs you, "i packed you lunch. let me know how you like it, okay?" you try to tell him that it isn't necessary, that you're a grown adult, thank you very much, but he pouts and whines until you take the lunch box anyway.

mingyu, whose leg bounces up and down all the hours leading up to noon.

mingyu, who has gotten a lot of praise across his life for many things. his skills as an idol. his physical appearance. but this? the text he gets of you gushing over the puppy-shaped mashed potatoes, over the boiled egg that's been cut to look like cherry blossoms? this is definitely a top five compliment.

mingyu enjoys this way too much. he learns more and more over time. heart-shaped tamagoyaki, doraemon constructed out of seaweed, rice that looks like snoopy. you tell him he's going overboard, doing too much, but how can anything be 'too much' when it's you?

mingyu doesn't even understand why he loves doing all this until, one day, you present to him sandwiches that have been cut in to stars and melon slices that are molded like diamonds. the sandwich is a bit dry, and the melon is out of season, but mingyu doesn't care. it's the best damn meal he's ever eaten.

mingyu, who has to hold himself back from proposing on the spot when you tease him, i love you, i want us both to eat well.

mingyu, who thinks to himself that he would cook for you for the rest of his life, if you'd let him.

[in-som-niyah]

i want a gentle jason

Jason who kisses his way up your body when you're coming down from your high. He whispers a hushed 'you okay ma?' in your ear because he cares

Jason who cleans you up with a soft towel against your delicate skin with eyes burning with just how much he loves you

Jason who will shower with you if you're up for it, constantly kissing your neck, your shoulders, anywhere his bitten lips could reach as his hands lovingly spread suds around your body

Jason who brings you a warmed and fluffy towel and wraps you up in it, making you look like the most adorable burrito he's ever seen

Jason who rubs you down with expensive oils, creams and butters, making sure your skin stays soft for the next time he's itching to devour you

Jason who helps you back into your (his) comfy clothes, while whispering all of the million and one reasons he'll love you forever

Jason who massages your hips, back and thighs, while also smoothing his lips over his previous bites he left on your heated skin and maybe leaving some more

Jason who rubs firm and gentle circles into your lower tummy, the place where he felt his length protruding from mere minutes ago, to soothe the ache he must have left

Jason who kisses you to sleep with his limbs wound tightly around you, mentally praying for your touch to never leave him

Jason who leaves your sleeping body only to make you breakfast the next morning: french toast with fluffy pancakes with syrups and jams of your choice

Jason who battles with his own mind about his self worth and weather or not you should be with someone better. But he would rather (literally) die than have you thinking the same. You're perfect. End of story.

Jason who would burn the whole world down if misfortune ever dared to reveal itself to you. Nothing will ever hurt you. Nothing will ever stop him from looking down and seeing those bright, sparkling eyes and sheepish smile. He swears on his next grave.

[kokokoula]

here's a thought:

tsukishima kei is mean. he complains that you talk too much, laughs when you flunk your tests, and insists that you're clingy. others wonder why you're even with him.

but they don't know that when he tsks at your rambling, he shifts one side of his headphones away to hear your voice. they don't know that even though he teases you for your low test scores, he would stay up late at night just to tutor you till you'd get it right. they don't know that after rolling his eyes at your affection, he places a chaste kiss on your forehead and hides his red face in your hair.

so when they say you deserve better, you laugh at their cluelessness and state with a smile, "he's more than everything i could ever want." and he falls in love with you all over again.

[whateveriwant]

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but when he comes home to find the new pooch you rescued, he says the reason he allows her to stay is because your puppy eyes softened him up (...sure).

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but less than a week into having the dog, he’s already letting her sleep on your bed because he thinks the one you bought her looks “too lumpy”.

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but when a clap of thunder scares the poor girl, he’s cuddled up right beside her on the couch, comforting her until the storm passes.

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but when you find the skull-themed bandana amongst his purchases from the pet store, he claims to have zero knowledge about how that wound up in there.

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but after he upgrades to a newer phone, the first pictures he takes are of your pup whilst she’s having a nap.

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but to celebrate her birthday, he throws her a full-blown party – complete with decorations, presents, and a homemade cake (for your birthday, he just got you a card).

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but when he thinks you’re not looking, he sneaks her little bites of food from his own plate.

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but when he accidentally steps on one of her paws, he sits there for 20 minutes apologizing profusely to her.

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but every time he calls home when he’s deployed, one of the first questions out of his mouth is, “How’s m– the dog doin’?”

He’s Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but when she finally learns the trick he’s been trying to teach her for weeks, you swear you almost see him cry.

He was Simon “I Don’t Want a Dog” Riley, but the moment that little four-legged girl wiggled her way into his life, he knew he was a goner.

[teddybeartoji]

thinking abt how toji would wipe your tears whenever you're sad.. he'd definitely let you cry into his chest too but i feel like a part of him would like to keep his eyes on you. he wants to protect, he wants to take care of you. he'll brush his calloused thumbs over your cheeks, over and over again, until there's no need for it anymore. he'll watch you sniffle with worried look on his face but the second your eyes meet his, he pushes his own feelings aside. this isn't about him, it's about you. so he gives you a little hum and the faintest little smile while reaching for your nose. you try to turn away, to hide, but he's not letting you go anywhere. he brushes your snotty nose with his bare hands and laughs quietly when you squirm in his hold, your whiny complaints sounding like music to his ears. you hit his chest and a raspy chuckle tumbles from your lips and he knows it's going to be okay. that you're going to be okay. toji would and will do anything to make you smile again and if that means getting his hands dirty, then so be it. he couldn't care any less. snotty clothes are nothing while you are everything.

[petricorah]

relax bro no one's taking him from you [id in alt]

lineart below cut