Marslu



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “I … can’t take my eyes off of you,” Yuuji admits dreamily. “You’re just so—”

    “Please stop talking,” Megumi interrupts him, placing a hand over Yuuji’s forehead. He’s still blushing something fierce. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He shoots an entreating look at Nobara and Gojo. “I think—I think what happened earlier on must’ve done something to his brain. This isn’t his normal behaviour. He’s confused, and it’s leading him to say things he doesn’t mean. That has to be the case. Right?”

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    10 Mar 2026

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    “Um. Sorry,” Itadori begins, letting go of his hand immediately. He scratches at his neck. Sighs, mostly to himself. He might as well come clean and say it. “It’s just – you… you have-” pretty, delicate, strong, beautiful hands, his mind helpfully supplies, but a sudden shock of nervousness makes him flounder and all he chokes out is “-hands.”

    The ensuing silence is suffocating. A cicada in the distance chirps, as if taking pity.

    Fushiguro stares at him, utter confusion knitting his eyebrows together. He looks down. Looks back up.

    “I do…” he says slowly, carefully, unsure. “…have hands.”

    ~~~~~~~


    Itadori likes Fushiguro's pretty hands. Naturally, he embarrasses himself.

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    09 Mar 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Is that Yuuji's hoodie?

    Fushiguro inhales a sharp breath, steels himself, and turns back to meet Gojo’s expectant expression. Is that a smirk on his face-

    Uh, yeah. Fushiguro continues as gracefully as he possibly can even though he wants to implode. He, uh, asked me to mend it. There’s a… hole. From the last mission. Yeah.

    ...Where's the hole?

    Fushiguro walks over. There, he points.

    Gojo lifts his head. He feels Gojo's gaze piercing through his stupid blindfold.

    Megumi. He says, slowly. Those are the pockets.

    Alternatively: Megumi tries (key word, tries) to hide Itadori after he sleeps over. Gojo has no mercy.

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    09 Mar 2026

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    Yuuji learns that jealousy tastes kind of like lemons as it settles across his gums and stings like citric acid. I want his hands to fix me, too, Yuuji thinks. 

    In the confines of his skull, Sukuna laughs hard enough to make Yuuji’s ears ring for the next 12 hours. 

    (or: Yuuji pines; Sukuna "helps")

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    09 Mar 2026

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    Yuuji’s brain feels like it’s sizzled up and died, but Megumi’s lips are a centimetre away from his own and maybe this isn’t so confusing anymore, because he’s closing his eyes and leaning in too, and—

    “Wait, are you guys fucking gay?”

    Sukuna. Fuck, he’d forgotten about him.

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    08 Mar 2026