Welcome to my Master List ❤️ I’m hoping you guys enjoy the craziness that is the huge long lists of fics that I’ve made over the past couple of months!
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MY SECOND MASTER LIST! (WHAT IM ADDING TO NOW!)
KINKTOBER ‘25 (MAINLY LEWIS PULLMAN CHARACTERS)
DRABBLE LIST (ONGOING! MAINLY LEWIS CHARACTERS BUT ALSO SEBASTIAN STAN IS THERE TOO HOPEFULLY)
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UPDATE SCHEDULE: Trying my best to post a few times a week, currently in school suffering ❤️🫶
DISCLAIMER: I DONT HAVE AO3 OR ANYTHING ELSE THAT I POST ON! I ONLY POST ON HERE! SO IF YALL SEE ANYONE POSTING MY STUFF ON OTHER PLATFORMS PLEASE REPORT! THANK YOU ❤️❤️
Please enjoy :D
BUCKY BARNES
Hole In The Earth
My Desire
Party 4 U
Girls Like You (Continuation of My Desire)
Forwards Beckon Rebound
Cradle
All The Small Things
BOB/ROBERT REYNOLDS (😇)/SENTRY(☀️)/THE VOID (🫥)
Carry The Zero (😇)
When The Sun Hits (😇)
Cherry Waves (😇)
Plainclothes Man (😇)
All The Rage Back Home (😇)
Sailor Song (😇)
I Wanna Get Lost With You (😇)
I Want You (Fever) (Part 2 of Plainclothes man) (😇)
Signs (😇)
It’s You I’m Thinking Of (😇)
Send The Pain Below (😇)
Spanish Sahara (😇)
Fable (Part 2 of Sailor Song) (😇)
The Greatest Light Is The Greatest Shade (😇)
Test Drive (🫥)
Velour and Velcro (😇)
Detonate (😇)
Sports Car (😇)
Affection (😇)
Entombed (Sequel to Test Drive) (😇/🫥)
Journal of Ardency (Sequel to Sports Car) (☀️)
Late For The Sky (😇)
At The Beach, In Every Life (Final Part of Sailor Song) (😇)
If I Believe You (🫥)
The Air That I Breathe (😇)
Lovers (😇/☀️)
Never Let Me Go (😇)
Only He Can Heal Me (😇)
Crying Lightning (😇/☀️)
Big Shot (😇)
Got You (Where I Want You) (😇)
Body Paint (😇)
I’ll Believe In Anything (😇/☀️)
I Do Love You (😇)
I’m On Fire (😇)
Instant Crush (😇/☀️)
Embrace (😇)
Nothing Matters (😇)
She’s Thunderstorms (😇)
Some Kind Of Love (😇)
Business (😇)
For Sure (Sequel to Some Kind Of Love) (😇/☀️/🫥)
Good Grief (😇/☀️)
The Dark Side (🫥)
Dawn: Making An Effort (😇)
Makes Me Want You (☀️)
Tonight, Tonight (😇/☀️)
Something Human (😇)
I Feel You (☀️)
Only Human (🫥)
Adore Me (😇)
Feel It All Around (😇)
Soak Up The Sun (😇)
A House In Nebraska (😇)
The Moon Song (😇)
Under Cover Of Darkness (🫥)
Spoiled (😇)
Night Sky (😇)
Kiss It Off Me (☀️)
Strangers (😇/☀️)
Self Control (😇)
Telescope (😇)
Stop The World Cause I Wanna Get Off With You (☀️)
Plainsong (😇)
You Caught The Light (☀️)
Little Golden Age (😇)
Smoke Signals (😇)
Oxygen (🫥)
Paper Crown (Featuring Bucky!) (😇)
Fire For You (😇/☀️)
Shake Me Down (☀️)
Ordinary Dream (😇/🫥)
Sundowner (☀️)
Claws (😇)
Sometimes (☀️)
RHETT ABBOTT
Purple Lace Bra
Moonlight Desires
Driver
No Angels
Tongue
My Favourite Game
Banquet
In The Heat Of The Moment
Boys On The Radio
BOB FLOYD
Supersonic
Glide
Fantasy
CALVIN EVANS
This Charming Man
MISC. (OTHER CHARACTERS THAT IM NOT WRITING ON A DAILY BASIS!)
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Summary: Short fic about Gojo seeking you out after a nightmare. Friends to lovers.
Warnings: some violent graphic content
Note: This is my first time writing Gojo (on Tumblr - I'm very slowly working on a long fic on AO3). This came to me last night, and I thought it was a nice enough idea to write it. I know I'm a Naruto girly on here, but nothing wrong with expanding horizons, right?
Moonlight shone through the crack in your thick curtains, illuminating your deeply slumbering form. The room was still; the night was cool enough to leave the a/c off without turning on the heater. The only airflow came from the slight crack in your window. You were perfectly still, slow, deep inhales displayed in the gentle rising and falling of your chest. Your phone repeatedly vibrated on the other side of the bed, but it didn’t alert you in the slightest. Not even a twitch of your fingers to acknowledge the disturbance.
There was a low whirr that sounded in the middle of your room followed by shallow, erratic breaths. Soft, quick footsteps to the edge of your bed, the rustle of fabric, breath desperately trying and failing to be controlled. Fingers trembling in front of your face, a weak attempt to determine whether breath entered and exited your nose, but they were too out of it to tell.
A harsh whisper of your name exited their mouth, and when you didn’t answer, a louder, broken call of your name dragged out next to your ear.
You jostled awake, eyes shooting open and a sharp inhale as you scooted away from the voice. You were jumbled, your heart racing as you tried to compute what you were seeing. Your name fell from their lips again, a mix of desperation and relief, as your eyes finally met theirs.
The faint glow of blue eyes in the darkness brought you back to reality. “Satoru?”
He looked wild and so vulnerable. He was only in a white t-shirt and boxers, hair wild from tossing in his sleep and blue eyes rimmed with red as fat tears poured from them. His shoulders shook as a sob broke from his lips. His hand landed on the bed next to you to steady his weight.
“Satoru, what happened?” you asked, panic rising in your throat. He had never just appeared in your room before, and never in the middle of the night.
He shook his head, unable to speak. You threw the blankets off of you, instinctively coming up on your knees to bring your face to his. You inspected him with your eyes, looking for any injuries, but all you could find was his far away look. Whatever had happened, he still wasn’t quite with you.
You took his face in your palm, thumb swiping at the unending flow of tears under his eye. He was shaking violently, you noticed. With your free hand you found his and entangled your fingers together, squeezing in the hope to ground him as your heart raced. He was looking into your eyes now, and you intentionally slowed your breathing, hoping to calm him enough for him to talk to you.
Another sob escaped his throat and his weight collapsed against you. You barely saved the two of you from falling, having to use more strength than you wanted to admit to hold him. You softly shushed him, the hand on his face going to the back of his head and running fingers through his fluffy hair.
“Come here,” you whispered.
You readjusted your legs and helped him climb onto the bed, leaning back so that he could lay with his head on your chest. He curled his lanky body around you, touching you with every part of him he could and caging you in his tight grip. His long fingers dug into the flesh of your side, right beneath your ribs as he adjusted himself to lay his ear directly over your heart.
You continued your ministrations to his hair; concern rising like bile in your throat. Feeling his tears pool on your shirt, you counted to your breaths in your head to keep yourself calm. In for four, hold for four, out for six. You repeated this action several times until your heart began to slow.
“What’s wrong?” you asked again as tenderly as you could muster.
Satoru tilted his head to look up at you, the tears slowing but the far away look still clouding the edges of his expression. “It was- it was so vivid,” he choked. A dream, you realized with relief. He had a bad dream.
“You can tell me about it if you want,” you wiped another tear from his eye.
He sniffled and his fingers dug further into your skin. It was starting to hurt with how tightly he was holding you.
“You-” he shuddered.
You patiently watched on, softening the muscles of your face and letting his eyes search yours. “Maybe I’m still in the dream,” he whispered to himself.
His face scrunched in despair, a fresh wave of tears spilling from his beautiful crystal blue eyes. “Maybe they really did murder you, and I’m just dreaming you’re okay,”
His breathing picked up and your eyes widened. He was having this visceral reaction over a dream where you were killed? He curled in on himself again, sobs wracking his body. It must have been a brutal nightmare for him to still be confusing reality.
“Satoru,” your voice came out gentle but firm, hoping to reach him amid the sobs.
He just barely moved his head to peek up at you with his now swollen eyes. Your heart broke for him. “I’m right here, I’m alive. You aren’t dreaming anymore,”
“You’re really here?” he asked into your chest, still unconvinced.
The dream he had was horrendous. It started with you lovingly kissing him goodbye as you went grocery shopping, and giggling when he pulled you back in for a series of kisses all over your face. Then, he was somehow at the school, sprinting down the never ending corridor in a loop as he listened to you scream and beg for mercy. By the time he finally wrenched the door open, everything was silent.
Your mutilated, barely recognizable corpse lay on the floor, limbs spread out and at odd angles. He dropped down beside you in the massive pool of your still warm blood. It was everywhere, still seeping from the wounds and bruises that littered your body. He saw everything with his six eyes. Everything that they had inflicted upon your innocent self.
“I’m right here, sweetheart. What did you see?” you tilted his chin so that he was fully looking at your face.
“They tortured you, I-” his tongue was heavy in his mouth, unable to form another word.
Your hand gripped the one that was leaving bruises in your side. Lifting it up, you asked, “Where?”
“Where?” his voice came out strangled.
He watched as you brought his hand up to your face. “Where? Did they hurt my face?”
He nodded slowly. You pressed his fingertips against the soft skin of your cheek. “Nothing here, see? No cuts or bruises,”
His breath hitched. “Where else, Satoru?”
He traced lower, stopping at the base of your throat, right above the collar of your shirt, ghosting along where the image of a large gash had been. He trailed lower, the hole in the middle of your chest fresh in his mind. He laid his hand flat over the spot on top of your shirt, but it didn’t help, he could still clearly imagine the way it would cave in under his hand.
Wordlessly, you took his hand and guided it beneath your shirt, directly where his hand had been. He let out a small, relieved sigh at your soft skin and sturdy sternum beneath his fingers. He trailed lower, on his own accord, to feel across your abdomen, silently searching for the bruises and stab wounds he had so vividly witnessed. There was nothing there but smooth skin and soft flesh. He blinked hard, his senses fully returning to him now that he knew you were okay.
He shuddered, laying his palm flat against your stomach as the last dredges of the dream washed over him and away. He looked up and met your attentive eyes, becoming acutely aware of himself. Aware of his hand on your bare skin, the wet spot on your shirt where his tears and spit collected. You watched his body coiled tightly around you, the tired tenderness you bore for him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what came over me,”
He uncurled himself and sat up, removing his hand from your stomach, looking away from you. You took his other hand in yours. “Don’t apologize,”
He was exhausted from the sobbing, the dream, and the adrenaline crash that now sagged his shoulders. You continued, a raw edge to your voice “I’m glad to know that I’m important to you,”
His head whipped back to meet your eyes, his own widened in shock. No belittlement, no judgment, no mockery of The Strongest crying like a baby over a bad dream. His mouth opened and closed. He decided on, “Of course you’re important to me,”
More than he cared to let you know.
“Why are you sitting up? Come lay back down with me,” you tugged gently on his hand.
“You’re not kicking me out after all that?”
Your brows scrunched together. “Of course not, you’re important to me, too, you know,”
He shifted, eyes cast downward. “But aren’t you bothered?”
“By what?”
He struggled to verbalize what he was feeling. He always did when it came to real emotions. When he finally spoke, he tried to say it jokingly, but he couldn’t quite reflect it in his tone. “Oh, you know, Gojo Satoru, The Strongest, blubbering like a baby in the middle of the night over a dream,”
You sighed out and he tensed, ready to face what he knew was coming, fingers twitching as he awaited you to kick him out. “Even if you’re the strongest person on earth, you’re still just a person. Just Satoru,”
You sat up and took his face in yours, forcing him to look at you. The ‘but’ he was about to say died on his lips. He held his breath as you pressed a kiss on his cheeks, lips wettening with the tracks of tears that remained. He could have cried again at the way you handled him so purposefully, not like a tool to be used but something precious to be preserved.
The breath he was holding puffed out against his lips as you pulled away. You pushed his hair away from his eyes. He felt each of your touches linger against his skin. Why did you do this to him? Make him so weak?
You exhaled through your nose with humor, and he realized with utter mortification that he had said that out loud. Like he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough already. You hummed and cupped his cheek.
Your eyes were bright and full of sincerity. He felt himself get lost in them, in the calm waves of emotion. He had never met someone as honest as you, who always knew what to say to him without himself knowing what he needed, or buttering him up. He loved that about you. He loved a lot of things about you. In fact, his nightmare reinforced the fact that he needed you and he didn’t know what to do about it. It terrified him more than any curse ever could.
“I love you,” you said simply, the phrase easily slipping from your lips as if you’d said it a hundred times.
It took him a moment to register that your mouth had moved with how enraptured he was in your eyes. And then he heard it, repeating in his mind like a prayer to a melody. He inhaled sharply, eyes suddenly fervently searching yours. Did you mean that as a friend, or as a lover?
“You love me?”
You found his hand and squeezed his fingers between your own. “I do, I love you. You don’t need to say anything, I just wanted you to know, especially after that dream you had,”
You pulled your fingers from his grasp. “I’d like it if you stayed, but you’re free to leave if you want. I won’t be upset,”
His mouth was agape, illuminated blue eyes drinking you in. His heart beat unsteadily. “As-as a friend? Or-?” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. This night was bringing out all of his vulnerabilities and laying them out for you on a platter.
You suddenly looked at him a little shyly, tucking your chin down for a moment before taking a breath to respond. “Or,”
Satoru laughed breathlessly, a grin splitting his tear stained face. He launched himself at you, suddenly uninhibited, and knocked you back against your pillows. He pressed wet kisses all over your face to which you couldn’t stop yourself giggling at. He hovered just above your lips until your giggles had just subsided, and kissed you. Once, twice, and then you got a hold of him, fingers scraping against his undercut as you slowly pressed your lips to his, moving them against his own. It was slow, a push and pull without hurry.
“I love you,” he whispered against your mouth as you broke the kiss. He dove back in, the same sensual pace as your hands moved to explore each other.
You pulled apart and he breathlessly repeated, “I love you, I love you, I love you,”
you’re laying on sukuna’s bare chest, fingers tracing the dark ink of his tattoos. he scoffs, glancing from his phone down to you before rolling his eyes.
“why would i be dying?”
“like… I don’t know, would you jump in front of a bullet to save me?”
“obviously.”
you huff out a bit of laughter.
“you would?”
his red eyes meet yours, a bored look in them.
“yes idiot, i would jump in front of a bullet to save you.”
“that’s so sweet.”
“yeah i know, boyfriend of the year,” sukuna grumbles, going back to his phone.
it’s silent for another moment before you think of something else.
…
“would you… kill for me?”
his grip on you tightens for a minute and he sets his phone down. one rough hands comes up and clasps your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his.
“do i need to?”
your eyes widen slightly, gulping at the intensity in his.
“i… well no… not right now, i just wondered if you would.”
“yes.”
he releases your jaw and your head drops back to his chest. he goes back to his phone as your heart pounds a little harder in your chest.
in which, you, megumi, and tsumiki reunite with satoru after nineteen days, remembering your old family rules
content warning: JJK MANGA SPOILERS!!
-
You, Tsumiki, and Megumi have dinner together every night. While it had been years since you all still lived together - with Tsumiki and Megumi living at Jujutsu Tech - the three of you had been spending more time together as of late. While the occasion that brought you all together like this was horrible, you relish in their presence, your kids back in your home. You feel the need to keep them close, so you don’t lose them too.
Satoru has been locked up for nineteen days. You’re not sure when he’ll come back. You’re not sure if he’ll come back. You’ll wait anyways.
You shake the thought from your head, zoning back into the conversation Megumi and Tsumiki were having. They were talking about taking down the Halloween decorations that you and Satoru had put up before he left for Shibuya.
The four of you were supposed to spend that night together, watching a scary movie and pranking the trick or treaters in the neighborhood. You and Tsumiki waited all night for him and Megumi to burst in, with a stash of Halloween candy they swiped from a kid and a corny DVD in hand.
That day didn’t come. Instead, Megumi came empty handed and alone, tears streaming down his eyes as he told you Satoru would not be returning that night. Or at all for that matter. For the first time since he was a kid, Megumi cried. You hardened at the sight of him, pushing your own feelings away to rise to the occasion of taking care of the both of them once again.
Everyone was trying their best to be there for the three of you. The second years came by often, bringing desserts Satoru had mentioned he loved. Shoko slept in your bed with you every night, so you didn’t have to feel his absence. Nanami took to training Megumi, continuing the work Satoru had started. But, you were fine. In fact, you hadn’t even cried yet. You had to be there for Megumi and Tsumiki first. They can’t come to you if you’re the one crumbling at the seams.
This made everyone more concerned than anything. It seemed like everyone was waiting for you to explode, a ticking time bomb to when you’ll finally cry. You could feel Tsumiki and Megumi behind you, whispering behind your back. But said moment has not come. And it wasn’t going to.
As you pick up the empty plates on the table, Tsumiki and Megumi start taking out the dessert they picked out from earlier. They had opted for a plain, white frosted cake for today. In Satoru’s absence, the three of you realized the only person who brought sweets into the house for everyone was him. If someone didn’t bring the three of you dessert, the three of you went out of your way to get some. You were eating for him.
Megumi knocks the fridge close, balancing the pink box and the plates in his hand. In his force - you’re not sure when he became so strong - he knocks all the magnets off of the fridge.
You nod him off, reaching to pick up the papers that were pinned to the fridge. You freeze at the sight of one of the pictures lying on the floor. From years past, the picture is of you, Satoru, Tsumiki, and Megumi in your kitchen, a white sheet cake with congratulations megumi written in pale blue frosting.
You stay frozen on the ground, clutching the picture between your hands. You can hear your blood rushing through your ears, your heart pounding in panic. You’re brought back to that night, the first time the four of you set down your family rules.
Megumi and Tsumiki join you, their voices not reaching your ears. They take the picture from your hands as your tears start to fall on the floor. You’re sobbing. He’s really gone. He’s not coming back. He’s breaking the promise he made you.
“Do you guys remember the rules?” you whisper, turning to both of them.
They both nod, Tsumiki’s eyes welling up at the sight of you on the floor. Megumi’s expression is stone cold, his throat straining.
“First, Tsumiki has to do whatever I say.” whispers Megumi, clutching the photo in his fingertips.
You and Tsumiki laugh in response, your tears flowing even harder.
“First real rule is no more fighting for Megumi. You can’t punch someone every time you’re mad at them.” Tsumiki responds, wiping her salty tears off her face with the back of her hand.
“Second, we all stay together, no matter what.” you whisper.
Megumi finally breaks, the words getting to him at these words. The three of you are clutching each other on the ground of the kitchen floor, holding one another close. Any feelings you had been building up, holding down in the past nineteen days, come to the surface at this moment.
“Asshole. He broke his promise.”
You reach for him, wiping the tears off the side of his cheek. You can tell he’s angry, livid even but not at Satoru. It’s not hard to tell that he blames himself for not bringing Satoru home to you.
“Third rule, no one leaves without saying goodbye.” responds Tsumiki.
“You left a part out.” you say, lightly laughing amongst your tears.
“Shut up, Mom.”
In a way, it felt wrong that Satoru wasn’t here for you to stick it to him. He needs to know Megumi has called you Mom more times than he’s called Satoru Dad. You have to laugh at him, wait for him to pout about how you were the kids favorite and it wasn’t fair.
“Mama’s boy, through and through.” says Tsumiki, mimicking Satoru’s whining voice.
The three of you clip the photo back into its respective magnet, huddling together to stare at the photo. They both wrap their arms around you, their heads leaning on to yours.
“You forgot one.”
The three of you turn around, eyes still wet from the tears. You blink a few times, making sure your tearful eyes aren’t deceiving. Satoru Gojo is standing in your kitchen, alive and intact. Free from his prison. Smiling at you.
“Fifth rule, everyone calls me daddy from now on.” he says, a tired smile plastered on his face.
The three of you laugh, shocked at the sight of him your kitchen. He’s really here. He’s here and he’s making his stupid immature jokes. You move forward, apprehensively and rest your hand against the side of his cheek. He’s here. He’s back. You can see him, touch him, feel him. He’s really back.
He pushes you into his embrace, crushing you in his arms. You feel his heart thumping against your ear, welcoming his familiar musky smell again. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, before letting you go to do the same to Megumi and Tsumiki.
“Will you guys always laugh at my jokes now?” he says, holding the three of you in his arms, looking down at you with his bluer than blue eyes.
“Yeah, yeah old man.” responds Megumi, resting his head against Satoru’s shirt. You remember the last time he did it, when his arm was all stitched up in that Emergency Room.
“You better. I’ll get myself trapped in a box again if you don’t.” he responds.
The three of you frown up at him, angry faces plastered across your faces. You smack the backside of his head for even saying something that stupid.
“I’m kidding, obviously. You guys wound me.”
Your heart glows at the familiarity of his words. The four of you settle onto the table, pulling out the dessert that Megumi had retrieved earlier that day. You fix the plain white sheet cake, muster out some frosting to write welcome back satoru on the cake in pale blue frosting. You set your phone up across the counter, snapping another picture. The four of you are teary eyed and pink in the face, but you decide it’ll make another great addition to your fridge.
When you hand Megumi a piece, he takes it and immediately smashes it into the side of Satoru’s face. The three of you feign shock, confused as to why he just squashed a perfectly good into Satoru’s hair.
“Is this how you treat your father? After I raised you? Carried you in my own two hands?” he scoffs, feigning hurt.
“You got me when I was five. I could already walk at that point, Satoru.” deadpans Megumi, wiping the excess frosting off his hands.
“What gives, Megs? He just got back.” you ask him, handing him a new slice.
“He broke a rule. Punishment. Retribution. Discipline.”
You see Satoru’s narrow his eyes at Megumi, prodding his fingers into his cheek. Megumi swats him away, which only goads Satoru on more. He gets up from his chair, attempting to hug (attack) Megumi in his arms.
The four of you pause, turning up to face Megumi. He swallows, looking nervously at the three of you. You swear the tips of his ears are pink. He just called Satoru Dad. He hasn’t called him Dad in years. You see a smile grow across Satoru’s face, feeling bad for how much Megumi is about to be teased about this But it doesn’t come.
Instead, Satoru has tears falling out of his eyes. Actual tears. The three of you face him, dumbfounded by his reaction. In all his days, you had never seen him cry. It didn’t suit him, looking wrong on his permanent smiley face.
“I’m sorry, kid. I’ll try not to break the rules again. You’re the only family I have.” he whispers, clearing the tears with the back of his hand.
You and Tsumiki move towards him, crushing him into a hug. While you had been focusing on how hard this entire ordeal had been for the three of you, you never thought once to what Satoru had been thinking in that box. You think back to the guilt you felt when Satoru and Megumi crashed when they were coming back to get you, your heart crushing at the thought of him feeling the same.
Megumi moves to join your hug, the three of you making space for him.
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synopsis. gojo satoru thinks he’s going to die because you’re giving him the silent treatment. (aka your first big fight with gojo).
contents. hurt/comfort, ooc, lovesick!gojo, you give him the silent treatment and he goes crazy, he is so pathetic in this one, tw obsessive behavior (he makes it EVERYONE’S problem), gojo’s pov
notes. loosely inspired by that one scene from yakuza fiance. not proofread whats new
Gojo knows he’s screwed up the second he steps into the common area of Jujutsu Tech’s dormitory. The air feels thick, wrong. And then there’s you, curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, but your eyes aren’t moving.
His grin falters for half a second before he masks it with his usual bravado. “I always knew you had a little freak in you, but reading your erotic books out in the open? Who knew my girl was such a perv.”
The joke usually earns him a laugh, a shove, maybe even a teasing retort. But tonight, the silence that follows is deafening.
The pit in his stomach grows.
“Sweetheart?” He tries again, waving a hand obnoxiously close to your face.
You finally react, swatting his hand away, but there’s no playfulness in the motion. Your eyes don't even meet his.
“You’re late,” you say flatly, still staring at your book. “Again.”
Gojo scoffs, irritation bubbling. Not at you, never at you, but at the damn book that’s getting more attention than him.
“Ah, you know how it is. Got held up in Kyoto,” he says with a shrug.
The words leave his mouth too easily. He doesn’t realize his mistake until you finally, finally look at him.
And it’s nothing like usual.
There’s no warmth in your gaze, no sparkle of amusement or exasperation. Instead, you pin him with a look so sharp it strips him bare, leaving nothing but the hollow weight in his chest.
“You missed our date.”
His breath catches. His throat goes dry. “I–”
“I’m not mad about that.”
Relief floods him too fast, too soon. His shoulders sag as he leans down, tilting his head for a well-earned kiss. “You’re the best. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”
You pull away before he can touch you.
Gojo freezes.
“[Name]?”
You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “You know, it’s funny.”
There’s nothing funny about this moment.
His pulse thrums as you continue, voice eerily steady. “That your mission was in Kyoto. I mean, we have a whole sister school there, full of sorcerers ready to handle a first-grade threat. So why would they need you, specifically?”
His stomach drops.
He’s never been good at guilt, not when he’s spent his whole life believing he’s untouchable. But now, standing before you, unable to meet your eyes, it sits heavy in his gut.
And you don’t let up.
“Of course, I asked around. Thought maybe I was overthinking it.” A humorless scoff escapes you. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my boyfriend was too busy meeting with his future bride.”
Gojo’s mouth opens, but for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to say.
“That’s–” he starts, then stops because, shit, you’re staring at him like he’s a stranger. Like he’s someone you can’t trust. The realization makes his stomach churn.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” you say bitterly, arms crossing as you lean back into the couch. “I mean, I’d love to hear how you were going to explain this one, Gojo Satoru.”
Full name. That’s how he knows he’s really fucked up.
“It’s not–It’s not what you think,” he says quickly, voice unusually hoarse. His usual bravado, his charm, none of it is coming to him. He doesn’t even know where to start. “I wasn’t–I wasn’t hiding it. I just–”
“You just forgot to tell me that your clan is arranging a marriage for you?” you cut in sharply. “That slipped your mind?”
“No! Yes—Fuck, that’s not what I mean,” he groans, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s never felt like this before. Like he’s scrambling for footing on uneven ground. “I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter, sweetheart. I wasn’t ever going to go through with it. You know that, right?”
You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Do I? I mean, Suguru seemed shocked when I didn’t know that these were recurring dates set by your clan.”
Gojo falters.
“You didn’t even think to tell me, Satoru,” you say, voice quieter now, but somehow even more devastating. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”
His heart clenches. That’s not–God, that’s not what this is.
“Of course you deserve to know! But I—” he exhales sharply, trying to gather his words. “I just—Fuck, I thought it was stupid. I thought it wasn’t worth mentioning.”
You shake your head, looking almost tired now. “Right. Because I’m just supposed to assume you’d never go through with it. After your multiple dates with her. Because I’m supposed to read your mind, just like always.”
The weight of your words crashes into him, and Gojo suddenly realizes that this isn’t just about Kyoto. This isn’t just about one lie, one mistake. This is about every time he’s brushed things off, every time he’s let silence speak for him, every time he’s sat through those excruciating meetings, knowing he would never go through with it, but never once thinking about how it would feel for you to find out this way. This is about every time he’s expected you to just get him without him ever having to say a word.
This is about how, even after everything, you still don’t know how much he loves you.
And now, looking at you, Gojo is terrified that he’s already lost his chance to prove it.
“I’m going to sleep,” you stand up from your place on the couch.
Gojo tries to follow you, “Listen, baby–”
“I don’t want to talk to you right now. I need some space.” you turn around to send him a teary glare and that stops him in his tracks. He had never seen you cry. And it tore him apart knowing that he was the cause.
The sound of your door slamming echoes in Gojo’s mind.
Gojo Satoru is the first one in class the next day.
He drums his fingers against the desk, restless in a way he can't explain, but he knows it has everything to do with the fact that he spent the entire night not sleeping. His mind was too busy replaying the way you had looked at him, no, the way you hadn’t looked at him.
He had left you alone and upset. He had made you feel like you were second to someone else. And worst of all, he hadn’t even realized it until it was too late.
“This must be a first.”
Gojo glances up as Suguru enters, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Gojo Satoru, on time? It must be the end times.”
He knows it’s a joke, but it might as well be the end times. Gojo doesn’t respond, just presses his lips into a thin line as he goes back to mentally reciting the apology speech he’s been revising in his head all night.
Then the shoji door slides open again.
You walk in with Shoko, your head tilted slightly as you whisper something to her, something he’ll never get to hear because you don’t so much as glance in his direction. Instead, you take a seat at the farthest desk, as if he isn’t even there.
A part of him withers away.
But Gojo Satoru isn’t one to give up.
If words won’t get your attention, he’ll just have to be Gojo Satoru about it. He leans back in his chair and stretches obnoxiously, before loudly exclaiming, “Yaga-sensei! Are those grey hairs from your recent divorce?”
He grins, waiting for the familiar sound of your laugh, for that little shake of your head, for you to scold him like always.
But you don’t even look at him.
Instead, he’s met with Geto and Shoko’s twin expressions of abject horror, and before he has a chance to register what’s happening–
BAM!
Yaga’s palm collides with his head, sending him face-first into his desk.
Even through the throbbing pain, he can only think about one thing.
You didn’t even react.
“And how exactly is she ignoring you?”
Shoko’s grumpy voice echoes through the morgue, where she’s been attempting to practice her technique. She’s clearly unimpressed that Gojo Satoru has decided to spam-call her instead of dealing with his own problems.
“She’s ignoring me, Shoko,” Gojo groans dramatically from the other side of the Jujutsu Tech campus, rubbing the fresh bump on his head as he stands in front of your door. “I’ve been knocking for an hour. She’s in there. I know she’s in there, but she won’t answer.”
“Maybe she finally got tired of your bullshit,” Shoko says dryly. “Honestly, I don’t know why it took her this long to hold you accountable. She’s let your bad behavior slide for way too long.”
“Why are we talking about me like I’m some kind of dog?!”
Shoko ignores him.
“From the sound of it, you really messed up. I mean, who keeps a marriage a secret from their girlfriend?” She pauses, then adds with a smirk in her voice, “Oh, right. You.”
Gojo groans, pressing his forehead against your door. “You and I both know that’s not what happened. But she doesn’t. And she won’t even give me the time of day to explain.”
Shoko sighs. “Give her time to cool down.”
“And what, let her decide she wants to run off and marry some other guy? Move to a cute little beach town in Enoshima, start a family, have three kids, and leave all Jujutsu sorcery behind?”
There’s a long pause before Shoko makes a disgusted sound. “O-oi. Keep your weirdly detailed fantasies to yourself.”
“I’m just being realistic,” he insists, clutching his flip phone dramatically.
Shoko promptly hangs up on him.
Gojo stares at the device for a moment before slowly lowering it, exhaling hard.
Then he rests his head against your door again, defeated.
But Gojo Satoru was never one to admit defeat, so he tries again. He returns to your door the very next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed.
“[Name]!” he chirps. “I bought us some parfait! Let’s talk things over, yeah?”
Silence.
Not even the sound of movement.
But Gojo Satoru is not easily discouraged.
So Gojo Satoru comes again the next morning.
“[Name]!” he knocks again, this time balancing a slice of strawberry cake in one hand. “This is all my fault, so come out and let me apologize properly!”
Nothing.
Gojo sighs, leaning against the doorframe, about to knock again when—
Your phone rings.
His breath catches as he presses his ear to the wood.
“Hi, Suguru?”
His heart stops.
“Yeah, we’re still on for the movie. I’m just about to leave right now.”
For the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru understands what people mean when they say they feel like they’ve been punched in the gut.
Because you’re going to Suguru.
You’re not just ignoring him, you’re choosing someone else.
His fingers twitch at his sides as a feeling he doesn’t like at all creeps into his chest. It’s something ugly, something unfamiliar. Something that feels a lot like jealousy. Was that how you felt?
He wants to knock again, wants to demand that you open the door, look at him, let him fix this before you walk away from him any further.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he presses his lips into a thin line, shoves his hands into his pockets, and forces himself to step away from your door.
Forces himself to give you the space you deserved.
You don’t know why you relent so easily.
You shouldn’t. Not after the way he lied, the way he kept something so important from you.
And yet, when you hear him pacing outside your door, his nervous energy practically seeping through the walls, you feel something crack.
He’s been outside your room for the nth time this week. Every day, like clockwork, he’s knocked. Brought your favorite snacks. Talked to you through the door, filling the silence with his ridiculous banter, even when you refused to answer.
You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your blanket a little tighter. You should stay angry. But you can't.
You sigh, pressing your forehead to your knee.
Maybe it’s time to stop punishing the both of you.
With a deep breath, you stand, crossing the room to the door. When you open it, Gojo nearly stumbles forward, mid-step in his pacing.
His eyes snap to yours, wide and filled with so much desperate hope it makes your chest ache.
And the way his face lights up like you’ve just handed him the entire world tells you that, maybe, you were never going to be able to stay mad at him forever.
But you’re here, leaning on your door frame with your arms crossed, your nails digging into your skin as you glare at the man who has spent the last ten minutes tripping over his words, looking wrecked in a way you’ve never seen before. His hair is messier than usual, lips are parted like he wants to say something, anything, but he doesn’t know where to start.
Finally, you scoff, breaking the silence. “If you don’t have anything to say, I’m going back into my room.”
“No!,” Gojo steps forward instinctively, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. And after everything, he is. “I screwed up.”
You give him a deadpan look. “Oh, really?”
He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, I really fucked up.”
Silence.
You should say something. You should demand an explanation, yell, maybe even cry, but you’re so tired. You’ve spent days twisting yourself into knots over this, convincing yourself you never meant as much to him as he did to you.
And then Gojo says it.
“I should’ve told you.” His voice is hoarse. “I should have told you after the first meeting. After the first second they brought it up.” He swallows hard. “But I was stupid. I thought if I ignored it, if I went through the motions, if I waited for the right moment… then it wouldn’t matter. That it would be over before you ever had to know.”
You shake your head, letting out a hollow laugh. “Satoru, do you even hear yourself? Do you get what it was like for me to find out from someone else? To hear that the person I–” you cut yourself off, but the damage is done. You see it in the way his breath hitches, in the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you.
“The person you what?” he asks softly, pleading.
You clench your jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
Your shake your head. “You lied to me.”
“I know,” he says, and the sheer brokenness in his voice makes your throat tighten. “I know, sweetheart. And I swear to you that I never meant to. I never wanted to hurt you.” he exhales shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I swear on everything, I was never going to go through with it. I never even showed up to any of the dates, so they kept ambushing me under the guise of missions! I sat through every single one of those goddamn meetings thinking about how ridiculous it was, how there was only ever one person I wanted.”
He stops himself, inhaling sharply.
And then, quieter, almost afraid:
“How there’s only ever you.”
The words hit you like a fist to the chest.
Gojo watches you carefully, breathless, waiting. Hoping. He’s given you the truth, raw and unfiltered, and now it’s up to you.
And maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the way he looks at you like you’re the most important thing in his world that makes you believe him.
For the first time in a week, your lips find his, and Gojo swears he can finally breathe again. The warmth of your palm against his cheek, the way your fingers curl slightly as if grounding yourself in him. It’s enough to make him melt.
"You’re so insufferably cheesy, Satoru," you murmur against his lips, your breath warm, teasing. "It makes me so angry that I love it." A pause, a soft exhale. "But I forgive you."
His grin is instant, smug and shameless. "That was good, huh?" He tilts his head, cerulean eyes twinkling. "I’m willing to bet your heart skipped a beat."
You roll your eyes, but you kiss him again, slower this time, because, damn it, he’s right.
extra!
“I demand some extra loving!” Satoru sprawls dramatically across your bed, limbs hanging off the edge like a defeated king.
You barely spare him a glance, flipping a page in your book as you lie comfortably on your stomach. “And why, exactly, do you deserve that?”
He lifts his head, pouting. “I deserve it after a week’s worth of psychological trauma. Don’t think I forgot that you ditched me for Suguru.”
“Oh… that.”
“Yeah. That.” His voice is thick with exaggerated betrayal.
You finally look at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. “It was a fake phone call, Satoru. You were just so insufferable camping outside my door that I had to make up an excuse.”
✿ summary: in which the jjk men are still healing from their toxic ex and old habits come to the surface in your new relationship with them.
✿ featuring: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna x fem!reader
✿ tags: SFW, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, mentioned past relationships, supportive reader, special grade sorcerer sukuna
✿ notes: this one is not so good, sorry. it lowkey sucks but i just wanted to get it out of my drafts. the daisy dividers for this post are by @/saradika-graphics and the butterfly divider is by @/dollywons. i hope you enjoy reading <3
How i sleep knowing there’s no rules to selfshipping, I can create as many aus as I want, I can selfship with whoever I want for whatever reason, I can use my self inserts however I want, and I can create any content I want because we’re all just having fun and nobody irl is being affected:
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