You met Megumi first day of college and all it took was a spilt coffee to bond you together. Being Megumi's friend was no easy feat but you were persistent. That led you here, four years later, one of his closest friends, alongside Nobara and Yuji of course.

And every friend of his knows his father and oh what a man his father is - Toji Fushiguro is 6'2 of pure muscle and sin. But you were Megumi's best friend and twenty one - there was no way he would even bat an eye at you. In fact whenever you did come around, he just gave you a nod and told you the drinks were in the fridge.

So you kept it respectful - okay mainly respectful. You've let your eyes linger when his biceps strained agaisnt the fabric of his shirt and maybe you've had a dream of two in a way Megumi could never know about but you never crossed that line.

Until tonight. Drunk after a night out, you stumble into your apartment, clothes trailing behind you on the floor. You enter your bedroom, and your eyes catch the glint of the full body length mirror and before you think about it, you're stumbling over, plopping in front of it on your knees and your phone is out.

You giggle drunkenly as you take pictures and swipe through them in the dim lighting of your room - and then in your drunken musings, your fingers fumble. And send them to someone who should not see those.

Three photos sent to Toji Fushiguro.

Toji's in bed when his phone lights up, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a small fire in his belly as the alochol slides down his throat. He'd been planning to have a drink and sleep, but then his phone lit up and when he went to check it, the small fire had ignited into a goddamn inferno.

And oh what a sight you are.

He doesn't need to think about it, doesn't let himself wonder why the fuck one of his kid's friends is texting him half naked photos at ass o'clock. He just snaps a picture of his lower half, in some old dark pyjama pants in dark sheets and his situation clear and straining against the fabric.

Those for me?