#jujutso kaisen

[star-har]

fading

it’s your birthday.

gojo’s been dreading it.

it had felt like carrying a heavy weight— a boulder that grows in size as the days passed by, until the calendar finally marked what he’s been fearing.

when he wakes up on your morning, he can’t get out of bed. doesn’t see a reason to.

it’s raining, loud and relentless. the drops patter against his windows, almost somber and melancholy and angry— as if the world itself is mourning your loss.

he doesn’t blame it. the world should be mourning, now that its one shining light and been burned out.

it’s late afternoon when he clambers from his bed, bounding to the kitchen to make his usual coffee; he used to make two. yours would be simple— coffee, milk and sugar. a complete contrast to his own, filled with syrups and chocolate and anything sweet his hands could find.

he would cringe in disgust as you sipped at it, wondering just how you drank yours such bitterly.

he only makes one cup now.

with the exception of the morning he’d woken up from a dream with you. he’d sauntered off to make your cup, assuming you were in the bathroom, and it was midday that it had dawned on him— you were only a dream.

your cat, mochi, is curled up on the couch, pawing aimlessly at where you usually loved to sit.

it’s the perfect view, you’d like to say as you scratched mochi’s belly, the sky looks beautiful from here.

she knows what day it is too. gojo had caught her waiting by the door as your birthday lingered nearer, waiting for your nonexistent arrival.

‘she’s not coming back, damn it,’ gojo would mutter as she pawed at the door. but the stubborn cat would return back to her post everyday without fail.

he decides to stand out on the balcony, despite the thundering rain. he’s remembering the way you’d hug his waist from behind and pepper kisses into his skin as you two watched the sun disappear, being replaced by the moon.

he grinds his teeth and throws his coffee on the floor, the glass shattering and scattering.

you’re everywhere— and it’s almost as if it’s amplified today. the one day gojo already feels like he shouldn’t be here. not without you by his side.

he curses and closes the balcony door, sweeping the glass so your cat won’t hurt herself. you’d kill him if she ever did.

he shrugs on his coat and leaves his flat after, stopping by a flower shop that you’d love to visit.

each, and every time, you’d pause by the pretty, pink lilies. with gentle fingers, you would caress their stems and sniff their fragrance— that beautiful smile always staining your mouth.

he sees them today. they’re beautiful, dainty. but the muted pink is replaced by a brighter one, full of life and colour and beauty.

as if they were a reincarnation of you. the love of his life given form again.

he picks them up with agile hands like you’d always do, making his way to the cashier.

the lady at the register seems surprised to see him there. “gojo, dear?” she says, thin lips pursing with a smile. “it’s been so long, sweetie.”

he hadn’t really had the courage to step into this shop when you passed last year— this has been his first time in a very long while.

“i’ve been busy, mrs. murphy.” he says the words softly but can hardly find it in himself to muster up a smile.

she seems to understand because she doesn’t pry and lets gojo leave with no more question. he’s grateful.

he places them in his car with the same gentleness you’d have, and reverses out of the parking lot.

your grave is a knife in his chest. a sharp stab that hurts and is recurring and painful because seeing it makes it so much more real than gojo thought it would.

as if all those months of reaching to your side of the bed to be met with cold emptiness hadn’t been because you were gone to use the washroom or to brew late night tea.

you were gone. you are gone. gojo can’t do anything about it.

he cries. he hasn’t cried since your funeral. he drops to your grave— polished with no rust because he’d paid monument care a hefty price to maintain your resting place. it only makes sense— for your grave to be as beautiful as you.

he places the flowers on the grass, tucking it into the mud so the wind doesn’t carry them away.

his tears mix with the rain, still thrumming down on him hard.

the rain continues as he spends hours there. wordless, quiet, staring with you as the sky turns pink and then dark blue.

he leaves before he can cry again and when he comes home, gojo pads off into your library. he hasn’t been there since you left him, but it’s a sudden urge— like he needs to feel you again in anyway he can.

mochi’s already there, scratching at the door, meows woeful.

he twists the door handle, and with a deep, shuddering breath, pushes in.

flowers. vanilla. love. your smell hugs him so tightly and gojo has never felt so warm. your embrace only tightens as he slips further into your library, fingers tracing shelves as mochi purrs after him, her paws scratching the wooden floorboards.

he stops by your window seat, heart breaking a little as he sees the book you’d been reading before you died. a classic— pride and prejudice.

he drops onto the seat and picks it up, mochi following in his wake. the fat, ginger cat curls up in his lap— he knows mochi is pretending. hoping he’ll give her the same feeling you used to.

in truth, no one can. your presence is one no one can replace nor match.

she meows in his lap, mourning. sad.

“I miss her too, mochi,” gojo says and pats the cat on its head.

the two sit there, long into the night, as gojo reads where you’d left off. you’d do this a lot, have mochi and gojo huddle around you as you read aloud to them.

he wishes he could remember how you sound. your voice had been a comforting melody to his ears, something that never failed to ease gojo’s pain away.

but as the days ticked by, his memory had grown to lose it.

had grown to lose nearly everything about you. your eyes, your smile, your singing. everything.

gojo cries again. he can’t help it. no matter how hard he grinds his teeth or how strong he fists his hands. he doesn’t try to stop the flooding, either. he needs this. needs a good cry to remember you and miss you.

only when mochi has gone to sleep in his lap and gojo reaches the final page to your story, closing his eyes, does he feel it.

a soft brush of wind.

the rain had stopped, being replaced by a humid and quiet night. odd for the wind to be out. but he feels it, nonetheless.

feels a breeze brush past his cheek, wisp through his hair and ruffle mochi’s fur.

he feels you. your warm embrace, your soft touch. and everything in gojo’s body calms. his thoughts quieten, his heart thrums steadily, his tears dry.

it’s you— he knows it. he’s never believed in an afterlife or anything alike it, but you could make him believe in everything and anything.

it’s you. your love, your touch, your kiss.

you engulf him with a hug that feels so natural and beautiful and gojo finds that this is peace. this is what he lives for— remnants of you and your love lingering in unexpected places and unforeseen ways.

you were always like that, in a sense. unpredictable and so, so peaceful.

gojo falls asleep soon, to the hum of your love and your whisper on the wind. and he finds it’s the best sleep he’s had in a while.

———

did I cry 10 times while writing this? yes. I hate angst. but oh how I loooooveee it.

I can never bring myself to right angst because I always end up making the ending a happy one but today I sat down and was like I need a good cry and I threw up this.

i hope it made u sad as much as it made me sad… <3

kisses and lots of love,

har xx

[artdont-sell]

Hear me OUT!!!! 🥵...

[c4ttheart]

3 times you were embarrassed (vulnerable) near yuta and one time it didn’t feel all that bad (yuta okkotsu x gn!reader wc 2.1k)

reader is a bit clueless and emotionally constipated bc that is my fav trope w yuta, mentions of animal death reader speaks in italics incase it isn’t clear enough

« i saw a dying bird on my way to class this morning. »

yuta quirks an eyebrow, unsure of where the conversation is leading or why you’re even speaking to him in the first place.

« it reminded me of you. » you continue, as the boy next to you chokes on his drink. you scoff and wipe away the droplets that have landed on your shirt and glare at him.

his cheeks are flushed with embarrassment from the harshness of your stare, yet he does not speak up. he is way too afraid to do so.

you lean back against the stairs you are resting on, watching as maki flings her weapon into the air with precision. it seems she has started to warm up to yuta, considering how their practice sessions have become less agressive. you are the only one here who has yet to get to know him, but somehow, you cannot. your way of introducing yourself is speaking about dead animals, something that would make gojo call you emotionally constipated if he was here.

« uhm, how so ? » yuta asks, carefully, as if he’s afraid of angering you.

you sigh, making him tense up. « it was weak and useless, but nevertheless, it was trying it’s best to survive. and i realised that i was not helping, being but a simple bypasser. »

you look at him, while he holds your stare quizzically.

« i’ll try to not make your survival as harsh from now on. » is your conclusion, and your body silently fights itself to not run away from embarrassment. you think this is the kindest you have ever been to someone, and it makes you want to curl your toes and clench your teeth. yuta smiles kindly in response, with eyes so empathetic it makes your breath hitch. he looks like he understands what you’re trying to say and how hard it is for you to say it, but before he can answer, he is pulled to the side by maki, meaning his break is officially over.

he waves goodbye to you, and you watch him leave. you do not wave back, but you do not look away.

( eventually, some time later, you do let your walls down and call yuta your friend. )

it is late at night when he finds you, sitting outside like you always do.

« hey. » he mumbles, cold nibbling at his skin.

you look at him only.

yuta sits himself on the bench next to you, bringing his knees up to his chest to keep the warmth flowing in his body. you do not speak, so neither does he.

the trees rustle together from the breeze and you do not shiver even though he can see the slight chicken pox forming on the skin of your arm, the one that is not covered by your pyjama.

you have the same eyes as his mother, he realises. the one that are always empty, staring at something unattainable in the distance. the ones that are so deep they look like they could hold the ocean in them and never let go. yuta thinks you probably have never cried. or else your eyes would be a little less vast.

you sigh when you catch his stare, but it has a hint of something happier.

« i used to hate you, y’know. » you mumble, observing the way your legs swing back and forth. he nods.

he fiddles with his fingers as he opens his mouth, « why ? », he asks, so careful, like he has always been around you.

you hum in satisfaction when you hear the answer you were expecting, but you do not reply. you furrow your brows and he notices, gently placing his hand on your shoulder. (although he immediately flinches and moves away when you turn to look at him.)

emotions have never been your forte. speaking about them is worse. but then you see his face, so curious yet so scared and you remember the bird, that if you had let it die you would’ve been an accomplice in its murder. you think of how you helped it spread its wings till it was ready to break the shackle surrounding them. you remember that he is him, and yuta would never hurt you the way you hurt yourself. so you let out a small smile and intertwine your pinkies because his hand is moist and it feels a little too warm around your shoulder but you get too cold without him.

« i hate change. you represented that. »

the rest of the night was a blur. you talked back and forth without a sense of direction, about things you have now forgotten. but you remember walking back with the weight under your eyes heavier than the one on your shoulders and you heart beating but the tiniest bit faster.

« you could always choose to stay. »

you were the last person he broke the news to. like he was delaying the inevitable, as if he was afraid of what you would react.

yuta gulps, watching as you sort through a pile of paper from your classes. you do not say anything else, but you do not look at him. it seems as if, for once, the ocean wishes to feel more than just the sand.

« (name)..? » he speaks again, but you do not waver. you do not turn your neck to look at him. you keep on going like he was never here in the first place.

there are three piles in total on the floor. the main one, that you are sorting into two: one he presumes you want to keep, and the other you’re throwing away, considering how it is primarily composed of ripped off notebook pages with various doodles inked on them. but he realises that you are not sorting them anymore. you are throwing your papers into random piles, without even looking at them first. a frown tugs at his lips. it is your way of making him leave, of telling him you’re busy. but he wants to say goodbye.

so he sits on the floor besides you, and for once, he is the one doing the talking. « you know, just because you won’t acknowledge it doesn’t mean it isn’t real. » he starts, and your hands freeze.

he intertwines your pinkies together, because you are touch starved but you don’t like to admit it.

« i’m leaving, (name), but that doesn’t mean i’m not coming back. »

« how far ? » you ask, eyes still cast downwards. he smiles bitterly. « close enough to come back every now and then. »

he’s lying, but you don’t have to know that just yet. you’re smart enough to figure out, but hopefully not right now.

« and hey, listen, i know you don’t like change, but sometimes it’s necessary. it’s a part of the world we live in. we’re constantly evolving. maybe its scary, but i can promise you that when i come back, you’ll never see a bird struggling to survive. » he says as he tightens the grip he has on your finger.

your eyebrows furrow. it seems a storm is coming in. your lips quiver. the waves are fighting to stay inside. yuta lets go of your hand and places his arms around your neck. you have never been hugged like this, especially not by him. tears run down your cheeks and you clutch his waist like the world depends on it. he does not complain.

« it’s okay. you can cry, i won’t look. » and he doesn’t. he doesn’t say a word as you dampen his shirt, he doesn’t move a muscle as you squeeze him. you have never cried in front of people, but you suppose this time won’t count because no one really saw your tears.

you hold on to him even after your eyes are dried up until you don’t. your grip loosens and he understands it’s time to go. he smiles, but you are not looking. you let him leave, but you do not watch.

« you’re gonna have to talk to us one day. » maki says, and although it does not seem like it, you know the tone in her voice is worry.

you nod your head and pick up your weapon, signalling to toge that you’re ready. maki huffs, and although she is persistent, she walks away as to not get hurt by your sparring session. that doesn’t mean she’s giving up.

a damp towel is flung over your shoulders and your hair is dripping all over your dorm floor when you get a call. something inside you swirls in your stomach in a delightful way as you accept.

« hey. » you say, putting your phone down as you brush your hair.

« hey, you alright ? maki told me you didn’t seem all that good. »

you hum. « yeah, how was your first week in africa ? any suffering birds yet ? »

he laughs a little, and the sound of his voice being distorted through the phone makes you frown.

he rambles on and on about his training, but you do not care. it feels like a weight has been placed upon your cheeks, and you cannot bring yourself to do anything but pout.

« yuta, maki was right. »

that makes him stop. he waits for you to continue, like it’s part of his routine whenever you speak.

«  i don’t- it’s like. my stomach hurts. i can’t smile. »

« what !? do you need medicine ? » he replies, anguished.

« i don’t know. it doesn’t feel like that. »

a little oh is heard from his side followed by small laughs.

you scoff. « this isn’t funny. i don’t even know why i’m talking to you about this. »

« uhm, right, how do you feel right now ? »

« like you should be here to train with maki. » you answer, picking up your phone again so he could hear you better.

he hums. you furrow your brows. he isn’t helping at all. panda knocks at your door, asking for your charger. you indulge him.

as he sits on the floor near your bed, you turn to face him and press your phone on mute.

« hey panda, what does it mean if i feel like yuta should be here ? »

panda looks up at you, a small grin on his face. « it means you miss him. »

you let out an ‘oh.’ in response and thank him, grabbing your phone to talk to yuta somewhere more private.

« yuta ? »

« yes ? what happened ? you were gone for a bit. »

« i miss you. »

he chuckles, and you smile.

« i miss you too. » he answers, his grin being heard through his words.

you pick at your nails, ignoring the way your heart seems to beat faster in your chest. the same way his would beat when you’d grab his wrist.

« i’m still annoyed at you for leaving, though- » you say before your sentence is cut off abruptly by yuta.

« i miss you, like, a lot. » he rushes, and your cheeks heat up. you don’t answer to that, because you don’t really know what to say.

he sighs.

« (name), i was planning on saying this a week ago but you were crying and it just wasn’t the moment and then we just weren’t able to call but one of the reasons for that actually is because i was too nervous to speak to you and god and then maki told me you weren’t well and i was just like fuck it i really couldn’t care less about what i was feeling which made me realise that i really cherish our friendship and you’re a great person and i don’t want to lose you, you know ? »

you let out a small ‘yeah’ in response, because your words are stuck in your throat and you don’t know what else to say.

he sighs again, slowly, and you realise it sounds more like he’s taking deep breaths.

« (name), whatever happens, do you promise we’ll still be friends ? »

you bite your lip. what exactly is going to happen ? why would he do something so stupid that would risk your friendship ? nevertheless, you hum.

« god, um, i love you. »

you stop breathing for a second. the speed of your heart increases, and all of a sudden, all you can do is smile.

« since when ? » you ask. this doesn’t feel real.

he hums. « i think i always have been. since the first time you talked to me. when you spoke of that bird on the sidewalk. »

« you loved me even when i failed ? like when i cried ? »

you have always hated leaving your emotions on display for people to touch. it made you weak. why would he love someone with such flaws ?

«  i mean yeah, every time you opened up you showed me a part of yourself. and i like that, knowing that i know the whole you. »

« i think- i think i love you too. »

i hatz the ending rahhh thank you to my proofreader @ownerofsix love you baba

[v1x3n]

okay but befr these jjk bitches are probably the most colourful people when it comes to fics. like when i see shit for cod its like a cw then the fic. jjk ones got porn then a few cute dividers, itll have colourful writing then about a whole fic of just cw, some symbols and more cute dividers before they acc get into the writing. i mean yous are doing so much

so kisses for anyone who writes for jjk 😭

[lovebeatriceplz]

You and Gojo except it's the "I see the light" scene from tangled.

[arminsumi]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🥋 ꒱ I'LL MAKE YOU WEAK

MDNI

░ Gojo x gn!reader

Slightly spicy karate with Gojo... 👀

⚠️Cws; not smut but still spicy/NSFW 🥵, Gojo being a cocky mf, pn 'sweetheart'

"You're not on my level." you said dismissively.

"Uh-huh." he smirked, eyeing you skeptically. "Cocky. I like it. Let's see about that, then. We'll spar and whoever wins – sweetheart – is the strongest."

"Um, alright? But just a heads up; I'm not a weakling like those floppy students of yours." you said as you got into position on the mats.

"Oh, I know." he muttered under his breath, as he got into position some distance away from you. "Don't you worry, I'll make you weak." he added with a devilish smirk.

See, the both of you were blackbelts, so both of you could have claimed to be 'the strongest'. But the one had more years of training behind them to back up those claims, and the other just had a confident attitude.

The dojo was empty except for you and Gojo, and now the sounds of grunting and skin hitting skin filled it. He'd be lying if he said that wasn't a turn on for him.

If you removed the fact that it was a dojo, the whole scene became obscene; of course, you blamed Gojo for having a sensual undertone to all of his movements and noises. He was so... extra.

Whenever you managed to overthrow him, he chuckled, so you said "Yeah, laugh out your sore loss." and rolled your eyes. "Why do you keep wanting a rematch? You haven't won even once."

He laid there, giving you a toothy smirk, while the both of your bodies were entangled with one another.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm not trying. Be glad... you couldn't handle me." he said with a suggestive wink at the end.

You rolled your eyes again, "Oh really? Alright, then let's go again, weakling, and don't hold back this time." you mocked as you disentangled from his hot, firm body.

He raised his brows, "Who you callin' weak?" he seethed, but you pretended not to hear him.

The two of you got in position again. You were so worn out and bored of his persistence.

"You know..." Gojo spoke before you two began sparring again. "... there's a reason my students revere me."

"I'm sure." you said lamely.

He contorted his muscular body and dipped when you tried to trick him like how you always do.

"What the hell!" you exclaimed as your body was pushed to the floor, his strong arms pinning you down firmly on the mats. You couldn't escape his grasp, all you could really do was squirm and wiggle.

"I'm the strongest." he taunted in your ear.

You could feel the contours of his firm body pressing against you, and the outline of his cock pressing into your ass. "You better remember this, 'tell everyone who gave you that limp... m'kay?"

"Okay! Okay! Whatever! Now get off me!" you hissed.

"No, tell me you surrender. Then I'll let you go." he demanded.

"What?"

"You heard me. Now say it."

"I surrender!" you grumbled, "Let go!" you squirmed harder, and he loved to see that sight; it made his ego swell.

"Say please."

"God damn you Gojo!" you seethed.

"That doesn't sound like a 'please, Gojo-sensei' to me." he grinned.

You whined please and he felt it go right into his chest and downwards. His pants got real tight. "Again. Say it again, louder f'me this time..." he spoke, his breath hot and ragged.

"Please, Gojo." you begged.

His bastardly grin widened. "M'kay, sweetheart. You're free to go." he said, and finally released you from his hold.

[cyhaino]

JJK Appreciation Week ↪ Favorite Quote

[xxoxobree]

No but this eats 😭😭😭 TikTok:xxoxobree

[kwcreator]

Poor Itadori, Gege Akutami should give him the power of protagonism, I feel bad for him 😖

GIVE HIM THE PROTAGONISM HE NEEDS

[yarahdraws]

¡Señorita Boscha yo la amo! 🛐💕💖🩷🌸

Use su extensión de dominio conmigo 🤤🥴🩷

Ay no espera...

[artdont-sell]

*Uncensored version* Would you let me step on you 😏🦶?

My Adult fanart on my X and TikTok account 🔞👉🏻 @rtdont_sell

[c4ttheart]

purple, inumaki toge x gn!reader

fluff. strangers to enemies to bffs to lovers, purple is your favourite color. shitty attempt at humor (this unfunny author’s fault) NOT proofread x 3.5k wc (i got carried away)

purple is your favourite color. it wasn’t always though, you used to prefer blue. the type of blue you can soar in. the type of blue you dream to swim in. or drown. the blue that was painted on the walls of your childhood room. the blue of your middle school uniform.

the first guy you liked was a douche. he liked giving you mixed signals, chatting your ear off about insignificant things one day- a simple way to get your attention- and ignoring you the next. once, you had asked about his favourite color, and he had replied purple after some thought. in the moment, you felt like it was cute, guys didn’t really often answer that. but then one of his friends nearby had laughed and exclaimed a big oooooh very loudly that had left you wondering why. it didn’t take long, because at the other end of the classroom a girl named violet was furiously blushing. you remember the way your brows furrowed as you quickly connected the dots- violet was another name for purple, or something. meaning you were not the only one he talked to, so when he asked what yours was, you were desperate to prove yourself to him. to convince him that you were better than her, more interesting. it wasn’t a very nice thing to think, now that you ponder on it, but you were in middle school. so, without missing a beat, you had replied « oh yeah, same! » maybe you had thought that having more in common with him would lead to something, or whatever. it was stupid anyways. liking him was a plot mistake. but you stuck to it, the same way your personality was (and in a way, stayed) completely attached to his.

when you met toge inumaki on your first day of high school after discovering you could do some sort of spiritual good/exorcism on what seemed to be negative emotions over the summer, the first thing he reminded you of was the normalcy of your middle school life. his eyes were of a purple so vibrant it blinded you, reminded you of why you had even agreed as to why purple was your favourite color. yet, at the same time, it left you uneasy, because you were, after all, being reminded of why you even liked it in the first place. toge inumaki looked at you and smiled on that first day, and it felt like he was applying pressure on a wound that hadn’t had the time to heal yet. you had remained impassive at his grin, and had promptly moved away from him, as if his very presence enerved you to the core. you hadn’t even shaken his hand, like you had with your fellow classmates.

toge’s world crumbled and crashed on that first day, when he saw your reluctance to be in his presence after a simple glance. he felt as if a piece of his heart had been shattered. the only reason he was in this school was to find people akin to him, that would understand him- yet you, with your piercing glaze and annoyed expression, you had promptly dismissed him the same way he had been his whole childhood. was he a freak ? a fake ? he deserved to be here. right ? so why, why had your feelings morphed into anger the second gojo had introduced him for you, since he was incapable of doing it himself, cursed speech and all. and if paining him wasn’t enough, you had to go and stomp on his pride, or whatever semblance of humanity he felt like he had left by getting along with everyone but him.

even the cursed boy that had appeared a few weeks after the start of the first year, you had taken a liking to him. everyone but toge, it seemed.

he tried to talk it out with you, well, as best as he could, but it seemed every time your eyes would lock you’d shudder away, furrowing your brows. toge wasn’t a mindreader, but he knew the expression on your face was distaste. so he rebuilt his world around you, pulling numerous pranks on you and clinging to you with a mischievous intent. it annoyed you to an extent you didn’t think was reachable.

it’s not that you hated inumaki, no, he just made you uncomfortable. well, he used to. at some point, he made you see so much red you forgot about the color of his eyes. and you weren’t the type of person to just stand back. you’d been a bypassser since you were born, and the only reason you were in this school was to stop that train of life. so you fought back. you played his coy little game and then broke down every single rule.

when inumaki added soy sauce in your drink, you’d cook for everyone but him. or you’d add soap in his dish. when he added bright dye to your shampoo, you added a lotion to lose hair in his. when he poured his water on your hair after training, you made sure to hose him down the next day. when he applied glue to your chair, you added small pins to his. when he cut off a strand of your hair, you made a big hole in his uniform pants, right where his crotch was. when he replaced your bedtime pills with foam animals, you used his toothbrush to clean the toilets. when he stole a piece of your food, you’d shove his head in his plate. while toge’s pranks were, for the most part, harmless, yours had a precise goal: humiliate him. (although you prefered the term annihilate, it sounded better.)

and apparently, you weren’t the only one suffering from inumaki’s pranks, just as he was from yours- your whole class loathed nothing more than being caught in the crossfire. (one time, panda helped inumaki replace your moisturiser with foot cream, courtesy of mean girls, the movie they had watched the night prior, and when you discovered, you sowed him to his own bed.) needless to say, they were ALL (including yuta, your sweet angel who could never hate anyone or do anything wrong) fed up with your antics. even gojo, who was amused at first, grew sick of having to comb out grains of rice from his hair from whenever the two of you would have a food fight.

so, gojo, being the genius he is (read: asshole), decided to pair the both of you up. and it would have been fine, you had worked with him before, if it wasn’t for the fact that he made sure every minute you were in class you would be together. he made sure that every single activity had to be completed in pairs, and he’d whisk yuta away whenever you would try and work with him instead. this lead to gojo’s new nickname being ‘senior citizen’, something you called him out of spite when he would not let you and inumaki work with different people. that only seemed to fuel him more, seeing as coincidentally, your chores became aligned with inumaki’s. all the time. you never got a break from the purple eyed mute, it seemed.

however, you suppose you should thank gojo in a way. thanks to him, you learned to not be bothered by the color purple in general. especially by the shade that flickered in inumaki’s pupils. you learned to resent him a little less. you learnt about him, and you learnt that it was never too late to make a new friend. however, that did not do anything but double the pranks you would pull. basically, the only thing that really changed between the two of you was that now, instead of pranking each other, it was anyone that managed to cross your mind. the way you looked at him also changed: slowly, annoyance formed into acceptance. the stars shimmering in his subtle glances never faded though.

when yuta, your sweet angel who could never hate anyone or do anything wrong left, you found a new best friend in toge. toge with his weird gelled up hair, toge with his weird manneurisms and his weird brainriot texts (god knows how many times he’d catch a ball and flash a grin that said´you ladies alright ?’), toge and his unique way of speech, toge and his weird sense of humour that, in a way, completed yours perfectly. toge with an expression so mischievous yet so patient at times you found yourself pouring out every single detail of your life till he knew every single nook and cranny of your former house, your old classroom, and most importantly, the desk where you’d exhange post its with the first guy you ever liked. why you ever disliked him. you thought that the whole reason was stupid now. toge who had also told you (in his own special way) how his childhood went. and why he didn’t like you all that much at first either. but it wasn’t resentment he had felt, it had never been. toge was sweet like that. not once did he bring himself to hate you in the beginning of the year because he didn’t know you well enough to do so.

toge inumaki thought you felt like a sharp inhale of fresh air on a particularly cold december night. it’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome. it’s good for you. it’s painful at first, but it becomes more agreeable once you get used to it. maybe you were more of a cigarette. addictive, knocking all the air out of his lungs (both metaphorically and literally, he hated sparring with you.) it doesn’t really matter what you feel like anyways. what matters is that somewhere along the weird revenges you would pull, he found himself caring for you. in the way lovers do. and now, as you’re sitting criss cross on his carpet, your back resting against his bed frame as you explain to him your villain origin story (aka your middle school lore) for the nth time, he finds himself incapable of fully listening. he hears what you are saying, but the only thing his brain is focused on is the way your lips move or how your fingers twitch and he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if you raked your hand through his hair. or if you pressed his lips against his. or if you fell asleep near him, right here, right now, with your head on his shoulder.

and he knows he shouldn’t be thinking that way, not when you just called him your best friend, but he can’t help it. he can’t help the way his fingers itch for yours or the inhumanly fast pace of his heartbeat when you forget what boundaries are. is it selfish of him to want more ?

apparently, it is selfish. you don’t understand toge’s new behaviour towards you- it’s not like he understands this new fickle of emotion either, but he is pretty sure it is jealousy- as you gush about the ‘cute’ cashier that gave you his number. toge doesn’t think he is pleasing to the eye at all, in fact, he looks like he had to win a game of rock paper scissors to even secure a spot on this earth. his hair is flat and boring, his eyes common, and his facial harmony could probably win a negative score if he tried.

even though he knows he is clearly superior, the train ride home is quiet, too much to your liking. toge doesn’t seem to realise though, for the flock of thoughts swarming his brain is loud enough to fill the lack of conversation. but you’re not a mind reader, so to you, your platinum haired best friend just looks like a brooding mess. you quickly rule out the possibility that he might be on his period. as far as you know, toge was assigned male at birth. although maybe you should double check with panda, it’s odd for him not to be lively. when you finally realise that toge isn’t going to notice your raised brow or stop being grumpy, you plug your headphones in and lean your head on the window.

in front of you, toge wonders if maybe you’d like him more if he had straight hair. the cashier had bangs, so maybe he should get some too. he grimaced at the thought of having to throw away his expensive hair gel. he tried to distract himself because he knew the truth; you’d probably like him more if he could speak freely. but this is a destination he’s not ready to take. not now. maybe later though, in the confines of his own room. crying in front of you would probably make him change countries due to embarrassment. (he didn’t want to appear weak, especially not in front of you. you were always calm and cold headed, and you were so, so brave. and fierce. he loves that about you.)

when you finally arrive on school grounds, toge makes a beeline for his dorm, still moody from whatever bothered him during your city outing. you don’t like conflicts, and you certainly don’t like seeing your best friend upset. so after a long, tired sigh, you jog up to him, only for him to further ignore you.

« toge. tell me what’s wrong. » you urge, your footsteps growing quicker as you pace after said boy.

he groans in annoyance, throwing his hands above his head before letting them nest on his hair. you furrow your brows as him, waiting for him to turn around to face you. the hallways are strangely empty for this time of the day, but you’re glad no one will have to witness your outbursts, if that’s what it can be qualified as.

« talk to me. » you prod again, nagging him relentlessly as he visibly grows more impatient under your gaze. « you’ve been avoiding me all evening toge, i deserve an explanation ! »

he doesn’t answer to that either. no rice ball ingredient slips past his lips, and you’re growing equally distressed.

« you can tell me what’s wrong, we’re best friends after all aren’t we ? » you ask again, hoping your words will be enough to break him out of his temper tantrum.

« just shut up ! » he adds quickly, almost naturally, before you can properly finish your sentence. the aftermath of his actions is immediate as metallic can start to be tasted in the base of his throat. you’re left there, stunned, unable to open your mouth as small tears start to form on your lower lash line. no, no, no, he thinks, as he realises what he has done. he watches your hands claw at your lips, your throat, before your gaze settles on him again. all of a sudden, he is transfixed, immobile under the weight of your glare, like an ant waiting to be squashed. the beginning of the year flashes his mind, and he is left puzzled. you scoff at him, incredulous, giving up on trying to fight the effects of his cursed speech and instead waiting for it to subdue. he realises now, what the look in your eyes is. it is nothing but pure resentment, just like when you hated the color purple. he understands why a younger version of yourself crossed his mind now- there’s no mistake, your stare is the same hardened one than the first time he ever decided to prank you. stupid, stupid toge.

after a while, your vocal cords can resume their vibrations. you’re about to yell at him, he can tell, but instead, a flicker of doubt passes through you, visible through the window of your soul and that is enough to prevent cascades from falling out of his eyes. he does not want this friendship to end, not over something as trivial as this little mistake.

« what.. what happened, toge ? » you speak up, eyes glued to the floor with your eyebrows furrowed. tentatively, you continue, « you never use your cursed speech involuntarily. what made you lash out ? »

and although it feels more like you’re asking that to yourself instead of him, he finds himself pulling his phone out, already typing an explication. it’s a habit, because what is he if you don’t understand him ? what is he without you ?

he pauses before showing you the screen. 'i can’t tell you.'

« why ? »

he shrugs, but he knows why- he can’t let you go, he can’t let his jealousy get the best of him and push you away. he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he-

his inner thoughts are interrupted by your calloused hand coming up to touch his. he notices the way his breathing becomes less ragged at your touch, and he notices the tear that falls flat against the back of your tumb. it travels down your arm before eventually disappearing and he looks at you, watches as the purple in his irises meets yours and he wonders if you can see how big his pupils become when he looks at you. so much for not crying in front of you. wiping his eyes, he pockets his phone, still silent as ever.

« why ? » you ask again, slowly depriving him of your touch. he wants to say it so bad, to give in to your sweet nothings like he has done so many times before just to hear a hint of happiness in your voice but he can smell the rejection from where he stands, and he knows he will not be able to bear it. maybe he should write it down, type it in and hover his thumb around the send button with a practised ease, because every waking moment that is not spent with you he itches to send you that text, those three words that summarise how he feels, but he can’t. even so, you deserve better than a text. but he can’t say it out loud, no, or his knees will give out quicker than his voice.

« toge, please. » you say, looking at him with the look on your face you knew he never said no to. his expression mirrors guilt, and suddenly, it seems as though your interior slippers are the most interesting thing in the world to him, seeing as his eyes seem so hellbent as to not meet yours. you hand him your phone without a word. when he extends his palm to push it back towards you, you gently cup his face using your fingers to angle it towards you. his heart skips a beat, etching to be released of this cage of ribs, longing to be with you. you remain indifferent, ignorant to the way his pulse races. you soften your eyes at him again, delicately placing your phones in between his fingers. he shudders at the contact, yet he unlocks it like he has so many times and, hypnotised by the feeling of your warmth caressing his skin, he types the words that almost slipped out of his mouth countless times.

‘i dont want to be your best friend anymore‘ the screen reads, and you swear you can hear your heart shattering while his races in anticipation. « what- what are you saying ? »

he doesn’t reply still, so you urge on. « toge ? what do you mean ? » if this was under any other circumstance, toge would’ve probably started humming the justin bieber song. but this wasn’t any other circumstance, because although he always felt giddy around you, never had he been unable to hear the world around him due to the adrenaline rush this was providing him. he looks at you, who is looking at the screen, perplexed and on the verge of crying. he always thought he could smell the rejection, but, maybe it was only the stench of his own fear, seeing as you intertwine your pinky with his, softly yet in a way that is so demanding- your own way to tell him you don’t want him to leave.

he thinks that maybe, the impact after the fall won’t be so bad because at least he was free falling for you. he thinks of you, of how kind you are, of you nimble touches, of your preference for sunrises over sunsets, of how you hate waking up, of how you never let your tough mask crack, of how you love him, even if it’s in a platonic way and he remembers that your favourite color is purple. the same purple you used to hate and the same purple that dances in his eyes. he loves you, he has never been this sure of anything else in his life. a bitter smile makes it’s way onto his face and he pulls his collar down, mulls over his words before opening his mouth. his tongue swirls and his vocal cords hum to form the words « i love you. »

and in that moment, you know your favourite color is purple, it has been for a long time, but now it is for an all different reason.

i took two weeks to write this is insane.. at least im out of writers block (i hope) LMFOA

i think im HILARIOUS but my friends all think otherwise so please… tell me you giggled (trying to prove a point)

might be the first time i lowk like an ending btw (prolly cuz its the first thing i wrote and then i wrote the beginning and then STRUGGLED with the middle part like i was grasping onto my sheets for motivation)

ID LOVE LOVE LOVE to write a part 2 so lmk if ur interested !!

[v1x3n]

jjk masterlist .ᐟ

₊˚⋅ ʚɞ " if i died now, i don't think ren would die with me anymore. "

꒰୨୧ - series

kinktober 2024 - simon 'ghost' riley, john price, kyle 'gaz' garrick, johnny 'soap' mctavish, phillip graves, gojo satoru, kento nanami and toji fushiguro.

the softer path - satoru gojo x reader , suguru geto x reader (for the meantime) - a lot of things come in between you and satoru, including that the writer loooves angst so you two can only hope you all come out in one piece!

꒰୨୧ - toji fushiguro

deep nd rough! - smut

mommy drabble - smut

huffy makeovers drabble - fluff

daddy knows best - smut, stepcest

dads bestfriend drabble - suggestive

plushie drabble - suggestive, fluff

꒰୨୧ - satoru gojo

yapper drabble - smut

actor!gojo - suggestive

exhusband!gojo drabble - angst

꒰୨୧ - kento nanami

silent confessions - smut, fluff

inlove!kento - fluff

꒰୨୧ - suguru geto

stoner!suguru - noncon! smut

[lovebeatriceplz]

Rip Suguru Geto you would have loved betterhelp

[bed-wed-behead-your-fave]

Toji Fushiguro from JJK