#literally it's like if it were telling u that gojo is the strongest bc he does gay ass shit like this ajgfjhfjasfha

[sukugo]

JUJUTSU KAISEN CH. 226: INHUMAN MAKYO SHINJUKU SHOWDOWN, PART 4

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

FINALLY GOT AROUND TO READING THIS…. putting all my thoughts under the cut bc this will probably get long again …. :’3

RIKOOOO I LOVED THIS SM…..

gahhh it hurt so much to read tho :((( the idea of gojo accidentally killing you genuinely hurts me physically like. can u imagine the guilt. ive always seen him as very protective of his loved ones so i feel like this would legitimately break him …… T_T

and just. how DESPERATE he is…… hhhh. when it comes to angst, seeing that kind of desperation depicted is probably what gets to me most…. its just so :((( hes so scared in the beginning..,, so terrified at the idea of losing you and . ow. ow ow ow. :’(((( it hurts.

BUT. okok. ive said this before but !! i adore ur writing rikooo, its so pretty and flows so well and i just love love love ur descriptions…… 🥺🥺🥺 im just gonna go thru some lines n paragraphs i loved !! there r . a Lot lol. 

he buried his face into your neck, smothering his painful hiccups as his burning tears rolled down your skin. in a fleeting thought— captured by the tangy sea breeze, he’d never looked more beautiful.

this is just !! so pretty. i 100% see satoru as a pretty crier btw thats so canon to me. but the idea of reader literally bleeding out and all they can think of is how beautiful satoru is ….. that’s SO bittersweet. so good. </3 (theyre just like me fr …)

“don’t blame yourself. it wasn’t your fault, gojo.” 

(…)

“it was never your fault. ever. you’re perfect, satoru.” 

THIS. got to me. reader telling him over n over not to blame himself, spending their last moments trying to stifle his guilt ……… :( the last part ESP hurt me. ”you’re perfect, satoru.” idk its just !! such a strong line it rly got to me…. and the way they switch from gojo to satoru too !! T_T i love how In Love reader is with him and vice versa, u can really feel that affection between them… the whole moment is just so tender and achy.

in this light, he looked like an angel. every color of the rainbow reflected through prisms in his tears, those mesmerizing glittering blue eyes of his that always—

no. just blue wouldn’t be accurate enough. 

his eyes were like a kaleidoscope of monochrome— all splashed generously with rich lapis and stark cobalt, neutral navy and sparkling aquamarines.

GODDDD THIS IS SO PRETTY RIKO …….. im so jealous !! of ur writing !!! the last part is just downright gorgeous hhhhh you rly captured the beauty of his eyes … like i can SEE them in front of me ……. and again; reader only being able to think of how pretty and angelic satoru looks while they’re dying …. T_T and he’s freaking out but they’re just admiring him !! only seeing him !! oughh .

nothing more than a piece of sea glass, perhaps in the rough. yet to be refined by years of chipping and sanding, being tossed against the rocks by the unrelenting cycle of waves, drag and push ‘til the shape was smooth and there were no ridges to catch, no kinks to smoothen out, no fragile points to exploit.

to anyone else, he would seem unmovable. no weaknesses, only strengths. almost inhumane. that was the facade he tried to project, anyway.

try as he might to put up that shield of his— it never worked. at least, not with you. those round dark sunglasses that never let you catch a glimpse of the story behind his pupils always acted as a barrier between himself and the world, tucking away the fragile child within him and forcing the strongest to grow stronger.

but you’d never had trouble taking those pesky shades off; not between classes, not at shared tables with cartoons of strawberry milk between you and not on the long walks home past parks and couples with cherries of blush on their cheeks and families with smiles that seemed to shine brighter than the sun.

not behind closed doors or shared moments of intimacy, not when you’d forced them off his face and beneath your heel just so he would look at you for once and see you for who you really were. realize what he really meant to you.

perhaps that was his undoing. his achilles’ heel. letting you in when he could’ve— no, should’ve locked you out.

just.. this entire part …… ooooughhhh. i love love love !! this take on satoru. and i agree sm !! i think he puts all these walls up for a reason, but hes still only human and he cant help but grow to care for the people around him … but it always works out best for him when he doesnt :(

and him tucking the childish part of himself away !! being forced to grow up far too quickly !!! satoru is just such a sad and lonely character once u get down to it </3 i love him sm. u write him so well and thoughtfully !!

“don’t cry for me, ‘toru. maybe, once this is all over, we can… share one of shoko’s smokes together, and reminisce— about last spring…” you whispered, your muddled and chaotic thoughts suddenly clearing. 

over a stick of cancer. really?

in your minds eye, you could picture it. the trickle of burning ember and ash from the stiff paper, representing each memory recounted and ticked off your fingers until it burnt to your skin, and brought you back to the present. past the memories. moving forward to make new ones.

i love you, satoru.

was that all you had ever been trying to say to him?

THIS ONE. god. this might be my fav part of the whole fic im just so obsessed. i collapsed. your writing is seriously sooo pretty ….. i love ur descriptions n just how well ur writing flows !! the bittersweetness of reader wishing for them to reminisce over their spring together … and then . over a stick of cancer. really? to bring u back down… and then the gorgeous, drawn out paragraph after that…

and then. the last line ….. which actually just hit me like a bullet to the head tbh LIKE. GOD. that’s gonna live rent free in my brain for all of time im not even exaggerating. i cant pinpoint exactly why but it just rly …. scratches a certain corner of my brain. was that all you had ever been trying to say to him? i just !! adore it. sm.

(he thinks it’s cruel that his brilliant blue irises get to experience the lifetime ahead of him, always glowing with the life you should’ve had. but the again, he’s grateful for them; to them for letting him see the twinkle in your eye when you called him ‘toru oh so sweetly, or letting him witness the affection in your infectious grin when you pressed a kiss to his cherry red cheek after sneaking a bite of the powdered sugary crepe in his hand with a little chirp of ‘sharing is caring, satoru.’)

:’( sniffle. i love these lil glimpses u give us of just how sweet n precious reader was to satoru …. how in love they were. i feel like i can see all those warm colours w how you describe everything, n then when u bring us back to reader dying all i see is gray and blue. thats so impressive to me !!!!!! just the vibes and colours of ur writing .. i feel it so deeply hhh.

when it comes to this very mission, on this fateful summer day where the dried streams sang trickling melodies into open fields of green and when the cacophony of the cicadas’ buzz subdues the shrill scream of fireworks rising over a summer festival, satoru denies everything.

AND. god. goddddd. this line is just so, so gorgeous and summer-y and beautiful. literally so good. i fell to my knees. ”satoru denies everything.” the way you build it all up just to bring it down to that is …. so good riko it rewired my whole brain chemistry.

the little sway of the section of dark hair in front of his eye that he liked to call ‘bangs’ (should be singular. arguments and wounded prides have often ensued whenever the topic approached this)

AND THEN THIS PHSHDJD thank u for at least giving us this one lil comedic moment ….. this was so funny AND I AGREE W SATORU that man does NOT have bangs he has A Bang. we love him and his fucked up bang though <33 

as such, it is customary to say farewell to endings, but welcome the beginnings. and who’s to say the two can’t intertwine; coincide? perhaps they show up as one and the same.

after all, you had meant the end to his isolation and the beginning to his affection.

the notion only drove the knife of your death deeper, as it happened. so which is best? to leave the blade in, or pull it out? either way, it hurts. but he can’t just let it fester, infect, mold over time in his chest— and so he pulls it out. despite the sleep it costs him. the anguish it brings him.

“we’ll find a way, satoru. after all, we’re the strongest, aren’t we?”

aaaand finally !!!!…. this whole final part just went so hard. so bittersweet !! but also hopeful !! so which is best? to leave the blade in, or pull it out? i love this lineeee and how symbolic it is of how one deals with grief… and how satoru chooses to pull the knife out and move on T_T despite the sleep it costs him, despite the anguish it brings him… hes so strong !!! i wanna give him a hug…. 

also this might not have been intentional on ur part but !! i love the implication that suguru is there to help him and push him forward … even just a little bit ….. even though that’ll end up falling apart too when sugu defects :( but still !!! stsg my beloveds <3

aaaaa all in all !! i hope this ended up (somewhat) coherent pshdjdj but i adored this riko !! im so in awe of your writing, i loved this piece !! :D i dont read much satoru angst generally so this was a nice change of pace too, u did his character sm justice n just … yeah. this was so so good !!!

spring of life and death —. gojo satoru x reader

warnings: character death, light descriptions of gore (wounded, blood) i don’t think there’s anything else…..????? idk though - gojo experiences his very first lost with the one he thought would be there for the rest of them .

now would be a great time to mention that i haven’t written in ages and i also don’t know how to write gojo and this may or may not have belonged to another chara i found in my drafts from like 2021

your ears were ringing.

your world had been spinning along its axis normally just a few moments ago— you think its unfair how quickly things can escalate.

but the thoughts dim and dull in your fogged mind when you feel a hand on your cheek. gentle, delicate— like it’s holding a fragile flower in its palm, ever so careful not to crush the last breath of life from the petals and stalks even as it beholds the withering of the leaves; watching the thing wash gray and drift away.

“satoru…”

he buried his face into your neck, smothering his painful hiccups as his burning tears rolled down your skin. in a fleeting thought— captured by the tangy sea breeze, he’d never looked more beautiful.

“please don’t cry, satoru.” you murmured, mustering a weak smile as he tentatively lifted his head up from your bleeding body, crimson waves slowly spreading across the mossy cracked pavement.

the sky was dark, ominous clouds gathering over the remains of what had become of a distant shrine tucked away in the hazy mountain tops of kyoto, as the two of you lay isolated in a large stone gazebo, the dead bodies of mutilated curses strewn all around you beginning to slowly disintegrate and disperse. cliffs stretched high above the murky water around the bay, covered in age old stone and soft moss. 

you lifted a hand weakly, unable to do much as you felt your strength seeping through your body, releasing as you fought to remain conscious. it felt as though everything had slipped out of your hands, after years of desperately hanging on to it. your life had been yanked out of your own feeble hands as soon as you had stepped foot in that deceiving, bright taxi. 

you gently laid your hand on satoru’s red cheek, glistening with fresh crystal tears, a snag, rip, and tear in his sleeve where he’d torn off the rudimentary uniform fabric in a frenzy to bandage your flowing wound.

it was tragic, truly. he hadn’t been careful with his application of blue, and you’d been caught in the cross fire, curse for curse and human all subject to the tornado of debris and stone that his cursed technique wrought upon the dilapidated clearing. 

“don’t—“ you mumbled, cutting off abruptly as an unwelcome coughing fit rocked your fragile body, blood splattering in your hands and leaking from the crevices between your stiff fingers— those that used to hug satoru’s own thin digits between them— as you covered your dry mouth and tried to smother the hacking pain in your throat; the burning sensation that dried your mouth and pricked at your fading consciousness. 

now, the only thing your hands held were the coalescing essence of seeping crimson life and the cold swirling air that remained from an effect of your cursed energy. so empty and numb.

“don’t blame yourself. it wasn’t your fault, gojo.” 

his heart squeezed tight in his chest, nostalgia gripping him in a vice as memories of your first night with the school came rushing back like high tide in his mind. 

“no… no—! this can’t happen.” he muttered, panic overriding his shakily hopeless demeanor. his voice was loud, cracking; it erupted from the eroding stone rooftops, carried over aging terraces into the rich green trees overhead. the small waver in it was impossible to miss, and even more so to ignore.

“i can bring you to yaga. surely he knows how to care for someone, right? maybe shoko has special first aid knowledge from her cursed technique, or maybe suguru can help you somehow… please, stay with me [name]! don’t go.” he cried, his hand desperately fumbling to clutch yours as you looked on with sadness.

it was, truly, such a shame. the sun had long since passed its crux in the arch of the firmament, casting its warm golden glow that refracted and dappled through speckled leaves and cracks in the wood onto the melancholy scene below.

in this light, he looked like an angel. every color of the rainbow reflected through prisms in his tears, those mesmerizing glittering blue eyes of his that always—

no. just blue wouldn’t be accurate enough. 

his eyes were like a kaleidoscope of monochrome— all splashed generously with rich lapis and stark cobalt, neutral navy and sparkling aquamarines. it was as if there was an entire rainbow of the soothing color in his irises, dimensions of depth and fragments that rivaled the ridges of the seas and the layers of the earth. though, this rainbow only consisted of the tranquil tone; but at this very moment, the only hue you could catch in the dying light was one of pure blues. and not in the sense of an artist’s taste for palettes, but in the sense of sadness. regret, guilt, and above all— pain.

“satoru.”

he paused through a flurry of sniffles and held-back tears, glancing at you with trepidation and a growing uneasiness as he noticed your lack of breath. it was like you were struggling for air. 

the thought only frightened him more.

“promise me.. that you’ll take care of them.” you murmured, as your body began to lax against your own will. a familiar feeling of release came over you, like lying in bed after a long day. only this time, you wouldn’t be able to get back up.

“don’t say that. we can look after them together, right?” satoru pleaded, reaching forward as you lurched back. he gently grabbed your shoulder, shifting his hand onto your back so he could pull you up and into his arms, cradling you delicately as if you were a crystal glass ornament, threatening to shatter at any given moment. 

if you were an ornament, so beautiful and yet so fragile— than what was he?

surely, in his eyes: nothing more than a piece of sea glass, perhaps in the rough. yet to be refined by years of chipping and sanding, being tossed against the rocks by the unrelenting cycle of waves, drag and push ‘til the shape was smooth and there were no ridges to catch, no kinks to smoothen out, no fragile points to exploit.

to anyone else, he would seem unmovable. no weaknesses, only strengths. almost inhumane. that was the facade he tried to project, anyway.

try as he might to put up that shield of his— it never worked. at least, not with you. those round dark sunglasses that never let you catch a glimpse of the story behind his pupils always acted as a barrier between himself and the world, tucking away the fragile child within him and forcing the strongest to grow stronger.

but you’d never had trouble taking those pesky shades off; not between classes, not at shared tables with cartoons of strawberry milk between you and not on the long walks home past parks and couples with cherries of blush on their cheeks and families with smiles that seemed to shine brighter than the sun.

not behind closed doors or shared moments of intimacy, not when you’d forced them off his face and beneath your heel just so he would look at you for once and see you for who you really were. realize what he really meant to you.

perhaps that was his undoing. his achilles’ heel. letting you in when he could’ve— no, should’ve locked you out.

“‘toru… you’re strong. everyone knows you are. remember that this was never..” you trailed off, another coughing fit causing you to shake and sputter, blood splattering over your tattered clothes. 

“it was never your fault. ever. you’re perfect, satoru.” 

he only stared at you, tears welling up in his swirling blue eyes. his fists were clenched, and you thought for an instant that—

well, not like you’d ever be able to tell if it was his blood that mixed with yours in the limp palm of your hand or just your own. if you’d mistaken the clench of his fingers so tight into his own skin that he’d drawn his own blood with those long digits for… a lesser show of emotion.

that’s how it always was with him. you never quite knew if it was only your love gushing from your open heart, or if there was a droplet of his mixed in there too. or maybe, a trickle of it. perhaps even a waterfall. with him? you could never, ever tell. it often presented itself much differently from what it truly was. much like its owner.

“don’t cry for me, ‘toru. maybe, once this is all over, we can… share one of shoko’s smokes together, and reminisce— about last spring…” you whispered, your muddled and chaotic thoughts suddenly clearing. 

over a stick of cancer. really?

in your minds eye, you could picture it. the trickle of burning ember and ash from the stiff paper, representing each memory recounted and ticked off your fingers until it burnt to your skin, and brought you back to the present. past the memories. moving forward to make new ones.

i love you, satoru.

was that all you had ever been trying to say to him?

perhaps, from the very beginning, the fates had ordained it to be this way. and try as you might, you could never escape their elaborate tapestry of cruel life. 

“i love you, satoru.” you mumbled, and with all your remaining strength, you barely pulled yourself up, tugging him down from his neck as his soft lips met yours. the kiss was bittersweet in every sense of the word— if colors and phrases were tangible, then he’d label it a dreaded farewell, a deep melancholy departure— something that hurts so, so much but is inevitable all the same. truly, he thinks it’s so pathetic how he was reduced to nothing in a mere instant.

then again, you always seemed to have that effect on him.

he watched in silent anguish as your eyes glazed over, the last fading pieces of your fleeting consciousness swirling away from your broken body as your hand fell limp to your side, final words lingering in the air. his body screams at him to do something— take your cold hands and intertwine your soft fingers with his, light the life in your eyes again with some fairytale kiss that he yearns to take the two of you away from this goddamned world. but it’s too bad, really. there’s nothing to do about what’s already been done.

after a long moment— what could’ve been a few seconds or a lifetime, he couldn’t tell— satoru pulled away from you, your lips cold and foreign to him, lacking the luster and warmth of the person he knew the best. his lover. 

“i love you too, [name].” he whispered, his voice breaking. he felt so small and insignificant, time stretching on in a cruel instant as if to mock him for this happenstance he brought upon himself. it was a scary, unfamiliar feeling. that’s how things had always been with you; letting you in, relying on someone— letting you see him for who he really was had always been a terrifying thing to him. but this time he knows you won’t be there to smother the fire and ash of reluctance with sweet kisses and words like crystalline water to douse the malevolent anxieties; he knows he’ll be alone again as tears began to flow and flow once more from his ever bright eyes, like a relentless waterfall that slowly shaped rocks and eroded banks over time. 

time, eons and centuries. 

and for all the next, which he would have to start afoot on a path that left a cold vacancy by his side, the wind blowing against his back a harsh and cruel reminder.

(he thinks it’s cruel that his brilliant blue irises get to experience the lifetime ahead of him, always glowing with the life you should’ve had. but the again, he’s grateful for them; to them for letting him see the twinkle in your eye when you called him ‘toru oh so sweetly, or letting him witness the affection in your infectious grin when you pressed a kiss to his cherry red cheek after sneaking a bite of the powdered sugary crepe in his hand with a little chirp of ‘sharing is caring, satoru.’)

when it comes to this very mission, on this fateful summer day where the dried streams sang trickling melodies into open fields of green and when the cacophony of the cicadas’ buzz subdues the shrill scream of fireworks rising over a summer festival, satoru denies everything. so what if he spent an extra hour or two there? he was just patrolling the area to make sure the presence of curses was completely exterminated; doing his duty as a sorcerer to protect the weak. it’s none of shoko’s business what your final words to him were and it certainly isn’t any of suguru’s to ask what he did with your body.

of course he disposed of it properly. he would never endanger anyone else so carelessly, again.

of course he didn’t spend an eternity by your side after the glint of adoration in your eyes had been extinguished, crying his eyes out into your empty chest which had a void instead of a heartbeat. the silence had never been more loud. to him, at least.

of course he was fine. of course. it didn’t take six eyes to see that—

“—dumbass. i’m fine. lay off, would you?” he scoffed, kicking the ground in frustration and stirring up a small cloud of dust on the faded bricks in the pavement, years of wear from generations of those before clear in the smoothness of the surface.

like a piece of sea glass. but this one was supporting another that was still in the rough. still sharp to the edges, still fragile in all the wrong places—

still breakable, with enough pressure and force and precision.

he didn’t need suguru’s… whatever it was. concern? yeah. concern. he shouldn’t go sticking his sharp nose into places it didn’t belong. only one person had ever burrowed into his heart like that. satoru was content to let the others try.

the dark-haired boy in question groaned, rubbing his temple and letting out an exasperated sigh that, satoru assumed, was drawn out in exaggeration. the little sway of the section of dark hair in front of his eye that he liked to call ‘bangs’ (should be singular. arguments and wounded prides have often ensued whenever the topic approached this) was irritating satoru to no end.

“come on, satoru. you—“

you don’t understand.

a thousand flowers of mourning and a bed of roses would never be enough for you. those were the thoughts that echoed and swirled in his hazy mind as he picked your lifeless body up, cringing at the way your limbs went slack, like a ragdoll. those were the thoughts he never dared to vocalize when he was irresistibly close to you, and still he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words lodged in his throat when he settled you down in a small green clearing a little ways away so he could appreciate your beauty and let himself wallow in self-loathing and despair for a little longer before going on with the correct procedures.

that was the smallest moment of respite he’d allowed himself. to finally feel weak for a little while. it was unfair, he thinks— the strongest, and yet he still can’t do anything against the unending march of time or the seemingly merciless web of fate the universe entangled him in, like a fly in a spider’s cradle.

in truth, he’d never felt more weak in his entire life. loss effects everyone equally, without bias or prejudice. no matter who you are. in some way, he was thankful to you; you’d taught him that, but he thinks some part of him would despise you just a little bit for giving him an unwarranted crash course.

the feeling was unfamiliar to him. but it would become like an old friend over time; one that remained even after all those who brought joy to him left.

when they were there, they brought solace. when they left, they gave loneliness.

some people are so selflessly generous in that way, right? never taking. always giving.

departure is common. people wave goodbye with a farewell and a bittersweet smile upon their faces as they bid adieu to what’s behind them and strive towards what lies ahead, willingly or otherwise. but goodbyes are not always final. after a long and toiling journey, the weary wanderer finds comfort in the presence of his family. the traveler finds comfort after a trial of hardship in his kin, and the adventurer comes home to a warm meal and a happy home.

it’s difficult to say the same for a sorcerer— a normal life is always a hair out of reach— a glimpse into pattern and routine, a dream of stability and relationship. but just that. 

a dream. nothing more. beautiful, fleeting, and never to manifest or become tangible.

nevertheless, things end, but many more will begin. 

as such, it is customary to say farewell to endings, but welcome the beginnings. and who’s to say the two can’t intertwine; coincide? perhaps they show up as one and the same.

after all, you had meant the end to his isolation and the beginning to his affection.

the notion only drove the knife of your death deeper, as it happened. so which is best? to leave the blade in, or pull it out? either way, it hurts. but he can’t just let it fester, infect, mold over time in his chest— and so he pulls it out. despite the sleep it costs him. the anguish it brings him.

“we’ll find a way, satoru. after all, we’re the strongest, aren’t we?”

but healing takes time, even if such a thing can seem heartless. and there is no rush or emotion, no presence or practice that could ever seal the broken and shattered heart faster than time itself would gently mend it back together.

so he lets the sand trickle, and lets life run its course. without you.

i actually originally wrote this for lyle collodi from hi3 so that’s y gojo just randomly accidentally kills u i’m sorry if it’s a stretch

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[chiruba]

JJK BOYS' BEING SCARED TO CONFESS !

an. thank u for 100 + followers!! <3 holy fuck inumaki’s was hard to write bc of the letter LOL also heres to hopin my tags actu work for this post

ft. gojo, inumaki x gn!reader

wc. 1.2k

genre. fluff, angst if u squint in gojo's

► MASTERLIST ► TAGLIST ►

GOJO SATORU ►

— OK so usually i wouldn't imagine him as being scared to confess

— but,

— if he really likes you, i think his hidden insecurities will start comin out

— yes, gojo is the strongest sorcerer

— but even the strongest sorcerer can't save everyone

— he knows you'll be targeted if you're openly with him

— so gojo represses his feelings as best as he can

— which for some reason involves him -

— flirting with you one day

— and then completely ignoring your existence the next

— eventually you just get tired of it

"satoru!" you yell, surprising yourself from the sheer volume of your voice. it's clear he knew you were coming, but you still see the way his shoulders tense when you call his name. gojo at least has the decency to stop, and you're unsure if it's because he doesn't want to risk making you angrier, or if this is one of the days' he'll actually talk to you. you huff in anger before gripping his wrist to spin him around, and you can tell he's avoiding your eyes despite the black blindfold around his eyes.

"well?" you ask, tone cold and straightforward. gojo decides to take a glance at you, and sees you standing there with crossed arms, looking at him like a disappointed parent. "are you going to stop giving me the cold shoulder and tell me what's going on? i'm not in the mood to play some childish game, gojo." the use of his family name coming from you makes his heart ache, and he panics at the thought of you being genuinely angry and upset at him rather than mildly annoyed.

"i'm not playing some game," he says, and you feel yourself straighten up at the seriousness in his voice. your eyebrows furrow together in concern as you try to think of your last few interactions with gojo. he hadn't been acting this way with anyone else but you (you know because you'd asked nanami, and nanami knew all), and if this wasn't some game he was playing, had you done something to make him upset? the thought makes you feel guilty, remembering how you'd scolded him like a child just moments earlier. was it the joke about his forehead? surely he'd know you hadn't meant it, no matter how true it was-

"i love you-"

"your forehead isn't that small-"

...what?

you blinked at him once, then twice, then thrice, and then a fourth just to make sure you really weren't dreaming right now. your best friend of years, with his cocky attitude, cute dumb jokes and flirty remarks that made your face heat and heart race was in love with you? gojo lifted his blindfold suddenly, cocking an eyebrow up at you.

"hey! what about my forehead?-"

"i like you, too." you breathed out, voice shaky with either excitement or nervousness, you couldn't choose. gojo stared at you with those ocean coloured eyes of his, and then broke out into a grin.

"hmm?" you braced yourself, already knowing gojo's incessable adorable teasing was coming, "i don't exactly think i said like, did i?"

INUMAKI TOGE ►

— i def see inumaki being more scared to confess

— 1. because he can't think of a proper way to tell you his feelings

— a text just doesn't feel personal enough or embed his true feelings

— which leaves inumaki in a dilemma

— obviously, panda is quick to catch onto inumaki's feelings

— when he learns about inumaki's dilemma, he just bursts out laughing

— panda offers him the very simple solution - write a damn letter

— inumaki was so caught up in his feelings he literally just did not Think of it.

— spends hours writing the letter and tearing up it several times while also rehearsing how and where he would give it to you

— until the moment actually came, and all inumaki could do was shove the letter into your hands, yell tuna mayo, and run away.

— … yeah

your early sunday mornings had started consisting of heading down to the field every tokyo jujutsu school student used as early as your first week as a first-year, causing you to quickly develop a routine - get changed into your gym clothes, head down to the field earlier on to relax before maki kicked your ass, and then rush back to the dorms for a shower. except this time, you were pleasantly surprised to see that halfway through your routine, you were met with the familiar cute face of a fellow student, cursed speech user inumaki toge.

"inumaki?" you say, giving him a smile before slowing down your own steps to allow him time to catch up, watching as he sped to you. "you're up early for once," you teased, knowing how grumpy he can get without his allocated sleeping time. once inumaki catches up to you, you continue walking on, fully expecting inumaki to just continue alongside you. only for him to catch you off guard completely, gently spinning you around to face him once more.

seeing inumaki up close, you quickly take notice of the flush of red on his cheeks, popping out from under his collar, along with the sudden dark eye circles. inumaki's breathing is muffled, but loud enough for you to hear he's panting, the rapid rising and falling of his chest confirming it. you furrow your eyebrows in concern, also noting the way inumaki had practically sprinted to you moments before for no reason, along with the absence of his usual cheery - "kelp!"- greeting.

"inumaki?" you say once more, your tone both obviously worried and confused, "are you feeling okay?-" you have to practically plant your feet into the ground to stop from stumbling back when inumaki shoves something into your hand suddenly, only realising its a slip of paper when you feel it crinkle in your palm after an experimental squeeze. you look back at inumaki for even just a hint of an explanation, and instead all you get is -

"tuna mayo!" he yells, and then takes off running. you're left in a daze as you watch inumaki's figure become more and more distant, and only when you can no longer see him do you remember the paper currently crinkled up in your hands. the first thing you notice are the little onigiris drawn on the top of the paper, an inumaki staple as you'd like to call it. this time, the onigiris have blush streaks on their 'cheeks' as they hold hands, a single heart bouncing off their heads.

to you,

toge here! obviously i know it's not february anymore, as you (probably? lolol dumbas) know, but panda i'm tired of letting my chances slip past me.

there are so many things i want to say to you every day, but now that i'm here i don't even know where to start, so i'm just going to say it properly. i like you like a shitton. i wish i could say this to you properly, if i had the confidence if i could, i would scream my love for you to the world. i may not be your first date, kiss or love, but i want to be your last, just as i hope you'll be mine.

there are thousands of other things i want to say to you, but i'll save it until i get your reply. please don't feel pressured to accept me, no matter what, you'll always have a special place in my heart, my first love.

from hopefully yours,

toge inumaki. 🍙

ill give u a kiss goodnight if u reblog <3 

©  2021 sinrinyoku — please do not repost, translate, modify or plagiarize my work! i will beat the shit out of u (maybe)