"...Are You Listening?"

Infinity Masterlist

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Part 1 | my broken maid

Part 2 | my childhood friend

Part 3 | my world

Part 4 | my life

Part 5 | my maid again

Part 6 | what doesn't belong to him

Part 7 | not my wife

Part 8 | start over again

Part 9 | what he deserves

Part 10 | what is yours, is mine

Part 11 | new life, new beginning, new death

Part 12 | another simple beginning

Part 13 | sukuna and a crush

Part 14 | shoko's advice and gojo's teasing

Part 15 | your confrontation, sukuna's answer

Part 16 | i am yours, but are you mine

Part 17 | then what is special

Part 18 | one and only

Part 19 | call you mine

Part 20 | it'll be alright

Part 21 | a hint of normalcy

Part 22 | a prelude

Part 23 | sick and what ifs

Part 24 | worry more

Part 25 | moving forward

Part 26 | quelled fears

Part 27 | coming soon !!

ˋ°•*⁀➷ · wrong number?

⤿ nope! it's them texting you from a different number. (the brackets show who's who btw!!)

♥︎ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, yuji, megumi, yuta and toge.

“You slept together, didn’t you?”

You choke on your coffee, fighting for air as a dramatic fit of coughing keeps you from regaining your composure. “What do you mean?” you croak.

Shoko shrugs, sipping calmly from her own cup. “Exactly what I said.”

“Wha— why do you…what?!”

“Gojo’s been awfully cheerful this morning” she continues, a corner of her lips lifting with amusement, “he wouldn’t shut up about how great of a weekend he had.”

You look at her over the rim of the cup, frowning. “What do I have to with that?”

The brunette looks unimpressed by your answer, and chooses to look at you silently while her brown eyes stare into yours. “… really? You are going to deny it? To me?”

“Why do you assume we slept together?” you whisper shout at her, looking around the teacher’s lounge with poorly concealed panic.

“Why do you look so nervous all of a sudden?”

Shoko looks smug, grinning knowingly as she inclines her head to the side. “You seriously didn’t notice?”

“What didn’t I notice?” you press, crossing your arms over your chest.

She chuckles, taking her sweet time to clarify her cryptic answer.

“You have a hickey the size of Honshu on the side of your neck.”

Yuji and y/n pranking Choso by pretending to get into a heated argument and watching him panic over choosing who to back up because he loves you both so much. It's a stupid fight (mostly improv) and not serious in the slightest but a not so quiet mutter of "Bitch" and a snappy "stfu asshole" has Choso chiming in at time with "Hey, that's my partner" and "Don't speak to my little brother like that" until you and Yuji see he's about to cry and tell him it was just a prank.

“say ‘i’m the man!’”

eren’s voice carries down the hall, boisterous and loud as it easily reaches every corner of your small one bedroom apartment.

you furrow your brows and glance in the general direction of the sound, but decide to ignore it and continue on with breakfast—gathering a dollop of strawberry jam on your knife before spreading it onto a piece of toast.

you’d rather not know what the two of them are up to, eren and your two year old son that is. he’s supposed to be getting the kid ready for the day, but whether or not that’s actually happening is a different story.

“i’m da man!” his little voice repeats the sentence—not quite as powerful as his dad, but still loud enough to find your ears.

“louder!” eren shouts, and you immediately drop what you’re doing to head towards them.

your slippers scuff against the floor as you shuffle down the hall, following the source of sound until it leads you just outside the bathroom door. you nudge it with your foot, causing it to creep open and reveal the duo—your son, who’s standing on the counter, and eren, who—at the very least, is holding onto him.

“hi,” eren grins, prompting his mini me to do the same. you note the atrocious man bun, well, little man bun your son is sporting—hair haphazardly pulled together at the back of his head.

eren gestures to him, pride flooding his features as he mumbles, “he’s the man.”

“oh yeah?” a smile tugs at your own lips—every ounce of authority you waltzed over here with threatening to vanish into thin air as you look at your little family. nevertheless, someone has to enforce the rules around here. “well, tell the man that if he doesn’t keep it down, he’s not getting any chocolate milk with his breakfast.”

the two of them exchange a glance, an identical look of concern—real and genuine from your son, dramatic and over the top from your fiancé.

“should we go eat?” eren whispers to him, naively expecting him to follow in his footsteps again.

“yeah!” your son yells, excitement filling his eyes at the mention of his all time favourite beverage. he sets a new record every time he chugs a glass, and always gets a kick out of the little moustache he gets afterwards—loving that he looks like dad.

“buddy,” eren laughs as he lightly cups a hand over the toddler’s mouth. “shhh, quiet okay? you heard the boss, no chocolate milk if you yell.”

your son puts his hand over his own mouth and nods his head, prompting eren to lift him onto the floor and send him scurrying off into the kitchen—little feet padding against the hardwood.

“what the hell?” you say, keeping your voice low to ensure your baby doesn’t hear. “it’s 8 o’clock in the morning, why are you shouting?”

“hey, i’m instilling confidence in him,” he pouts, having heard you mention something along those lines once or twice—about how important it is for him to be proud of who he is.

“eren,” you sigh, because you know he means well—he wants nothing but the absolute best for your son too, which is why he more or less lets him do as he pleases.

he encourages him to jump around and dance to his favourite songs, and doesn’t care that he gets marker all over his face when he colours. he’ll give him bear paws before dinner, and hold his hand as the two of them run and giggle down the halls of your apartment building, because they’re just so happy to come home and see you after a trip to the grocery store.

eren lets your kid be a kid, and while that might put a scowl on the face of those around you, all that matters is that your son is always smiling.

“i know, just,” you pause, searching for the right words—the ones that won’t paint you as the bad cop you feel you’re being. though, you look into eren’s eyes, and see nothing but the purest love and adoration overflowing from his pupils, and you know—he thinks you’re doing perfect. “just, wait until after ten at least, okay? that old couple next door already has us on their shit list.”

“course, ‘m sorry baby,” he hums—cupping your cheek with a grin that’s a little too smug and out of place to be there right now. “but you know, you got us on that list, not him.”

“me?” you tilt your head, racking your brain for a time in which you might’ve pissed them off. did you forget to hold the door open? shit.

“mhmm,” he hums, moving his hand to the back of your head to hold you flush against him, and you look adorable—in the reflection of the mirror, with your little thinking face on and your cheek squished against him. he almost feels guilty.

“what did i—”

“nghhh eren, that feels soooo good,” he moans, quiet and sultry—changing the pitch of his voice slightly in an attempt to mimic your own.

“eren!” you gasp, planting your palms flat on his chest to push him away. “shut up, you’re the only reason i sound like that.”

“damn right,” he grins, pulling you right back in for a messy kiss—hands sneaking underneath your shirt and travelling up your—

crash.

“oh no,” you mumble, peeling yourself away from him once more. your son—who’s been alone and suspiciously quiet for the last five minutes, is now doing god knows what in the kitchen. “go check on your satan spawn, would you?”

“hey,” he frowns, swiftly backing out of the room and towards the noise, but not without putting on a quick smile to clarify, “our satan spawn.”

you roll your eyes, but still feel the corners of your lips tug upwards. eren is far from perfect, but he’s pretty good at keeping a smile on your face too.

The JJK men want YOU to wear their jersey

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, college au, sports au, mostly fluff and/or crack, suggestive only on Toji’s (nasty bitch), itafushi makes an appearance

An: This has been heavy on my brain recently 🙂‍↕️ Also, I don’t know if this concept is only in like my area, but basically, the concept is that on game days, a common thing for highschool/college players to do is to wear their jersey to class, and their sweetheart wears their home/away jersey. it’s just a cute thing to show support. Another thing, I know Kamo is not Choso’s last name, and I know Sukuna is not Sukuna’s last name. Sukuna might not even be Sukuna’s name at all. idk and idc. this is a no curse au anyways so who cares! let me know if i should do more sports au :)

Incl - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna

SATORU

Girls will literally hunt Satoru down to get his jersey from him, and if you were the lucky girl who got to wear the jersey of the star quarterback… you either became instantly popular, or every girl in the university wanted to kill you.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I already have someone in mind.” Satoru flashed a grin towards the crowd of girls surrounding his seat. Disappointed sighs and whines emitted from the group as they slowly dissipated from his desk.

Satoru couldn’t care less. They could be mad at him if they wanted to. They were no where near as special as the girl he had his eyes set on.

Class had yet to start, and Satoru was growing tired of just staring at the back of your head. He finally got up, and he slumped down in the chair next to you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked with a bright smile. He hadn’t interacted with you much, but he always had his eye on you. You were the one of the few girls who didn’t dumb down their intelligence for him to make themselves more appealing.

“It’s not.” You replied shortly. You weren’t rude, just incredibly matter-of-fact.

“Wanna make a bet with me?” Satoru asked as he tried to catch your eyes from your book. He was really pining for your attention, and you wouldn’t pass him a second glance.

“Not really.” You replied, not looking up from your book.

“I bet the professor will be twenty minutes late.” Satoru went on anyways, not taking your rejection to heart.

“Hmm. Doubtful. He’s normally prompt.” You say finally looking up at Satoru, which causes him to flash an easy smile. He’s happy to have your attention — now he wants to keep it.

“If he isn’t here within the next twenty minutes, you have to wear my jersey today and every game day for the rest of the season. If he makes it here before twenty minutes is up, I’ll buy you as many books as you can carry.” Satoru proposes as he taps on your book with a cheeky grin.

You think for a moment… all the books you can carry?? “Deal.” You say with a smile, offering your hand to him to shake on it — thinking you just easily won yourself a free shopping spree. Satoru takes your hand, and he gently shakes it before bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

He’s already won.

Satoru knows that you’ll be wearing his jersey today, and you’ll wear his colors for the rest of the season. He’ll make more bets… win you over slowly with false bets. Oh, he’ll buy you all those books you want too just because he can.

He’s already set Geto in motion to go run into your professor with large cups of coffees in his hand. Your professor ended up cancelling class after being 25 minutes late.

When the group of girls sees you with “GOJO” written on the back of your jersey, their faces contort in utter disdain, but Satoru looks at it with a shit-eating grin on his face. He won.

SUGURU

Suguru really didn’t get the thing about giving a girl his jersey on game days. Basketball season is pretty ruthless. While football teams only have 12 games in a season, basketball teams play over 30. That’s 30 days in one season that he’d have to find a girl that he gave enough of a shit about to give his jersey to? No thanks.

Of course, if he had a girlfriend it wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but the whole attitude around giving a girl your jersey was just something Suguru didn’t subscribe to.

Well, he didn’t think he subscribed to it until he saw one of his teammates offering you their jersey.

Maybe on a more psychological level, this was territory marking, and Suguru would be damned if he sat back and let another man mark you as their territory.

Even though he’s not proud of it, Suguru immediately marched straight up to you and his teammate with his away jersey thrown over his shoulder. He placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, and he gave his teammate a piercing look with his violet eyes. His lips curled into an easy smirk.

“Sorry man, she’s already agreed to wear my jersey today, isn’t that right angel?” He asked in such a condescending tone, and his fingertips dig into your skin with just enough pressure to make your face flush.

Luckily for Suguru, you were into it — and not his teammate. “Yeah, sorry. I almost forgot.” You agree, giving his teammate an empathetic smile.

So no, Suguru doesn’t get the idea of giving his jersey to a girl on game days, but he does get the idea of giving you his jersey. He loves how he towers behind you in the halls, seeing the name “GETO” written on your back with his number. He loves remembering the way you easily went along with his plan. You just fit him.

NANAMI

Nanami doesn’t need antics to get you to wear his baseball jersey.

Plenty of girls pine for Kento. Who wouldn’t? He was the leading star of the baseball team… who’s ass just so happened to look so good in those white tight-fitting pants.

Your college certainly played into it, giving Nanami the big screen when he takes off his helmet and shakes out his messy blonde hair that a bit damp from sweat. His cheeks are smeared with his eye black smeared on his cheeks (the charcoal black lines that athletes sometimes have).

They knew what they were doing when the yearbook crew took professional level pictures of Nanami looking absolutely jaw-dropping while delivering the nastiest pitch.

He was like eye candy that enticed a bunch of girls to buy tickets to the baseball games, and dammit, it worked.

Despite his celebrity status at the school, Kento didn’t act above anyone else. He didn’t flaunt money or act posh and sophisticated like a lot of the wannabes did at your university.

He was down to earth, smart, caring, and humorous to the right group of people (the dry humor enjoyers). Kento was the type of man to be able to reject someone without them even feeling rejected, which he did a lot when girls would ask for his jersey.

You often came to baseball games to watch (to watch nanami lets bffr), but you weren’t bold enough to ask Kento for his jersey on game days. You had witness girls before you, pilgriming the way to Nanami before they turn back empty handed. You couldn’t risk the heartache.

It wasn’t until one day after class you and Kento were the only two still packing up after a lecture, he casually strolled to your desk. “Will you be at the game tonight?” He asked with a genuine air of curiosity to him. This wasn’t awkward forced conversation because you two were the only two people in a room together.

You hadn’t even known that Nanami noticed you, much less noticed your attendance at games. You could feel your heart start to thud obscenely loud in your chest as you came to terms that you’re not invisible in Kento’s life.

“Yeah, I think I’ll show up…” You try your hardest to sound casual, but you just sound terribly nervous.

“I’ll look forward to seeing you.” He said politely before he reached into his bag and pulled out his spare jersey. “Hopefully wearing this..?”

Your eyes widen as you realize he was offering his jersey to you. “That- are you sure? Me?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He gives an honest laugh. His multimillion dollar smile makes you swoon, and he hands his jersey out again. “You should put it on now. That’s the tradition, right?”

You slowly slip the jersey on over your long-sleeved white top, and it definitely hangs loosely on you, but with a few tucks and adjustments, it finally sits on your body appropriately.

“It looks good on you. I’ll see you tonight.” Kento smiles before leaving the classroom.

You had never gotten more shocked stares than when girls saw you with “NANAMI” printed across your back.

CHOSO

“Hey Yuji, why does Megumi wear your jersey on game days?” Choso asked his teammate as he sat down on the bench in the locker room.

He had seen quite a few people - guys and girls who weren’t on the basketball team wearing the jerseys of his teammates, but he didn’t understand it. He figured he’d ask the one teammate who he considered to be more of a brother to explain.

“Because I make him.” Yuji laughed as he dried his pink hair off from the shower. It was a pretty brutal practice, even Choso’s raven hair was down, messy from sweat.

Choso furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you do that-? I thought you liked him.”

Yuji laughed even harder as Choso clearly didn’t understand the dynamic he had with Megumi. He also clearly didn’t understand the concept behind giving someone his jersey.

“I do like him, so I like seeing him wearing my jersey on game days. I think he looks good in it too, even if he pretends to hate it. I know he likes showing his support.” Yuji explained, but he went on, “People give their jerseys to someone they like. It’s like a courting gift, and it lets everyone know your intentions with that person.”

Choso nodded as he began to understand. He should give his jersey to someone he liked - to someone he wanted to court, and his intentions would be made known.

That’s how shy, timid Choso ended up at your dorm door late one evening. After much encouragement and convincing from Yuji, he finally gave your door a soft knock, and Yuji ran around the corner to hide.

When you opened the door, looking at Choso with those big pretty eyes, he completely clammed up and forgot the mental script he had prepared about how he really liked you, and it’d mean a lot to him if you wore his jersey.

Instead, “I want my intentions known.” He nearly shouted as he gestured his jersey to you.

Yuji facepalmed around the corner.

You blinked a few times, looking down at the jersey then back up to him. He was lucky that you’re very good at filling in the blanks. “You want me to wear your jersey, Cho?” You asked with a small laugh before taking the jersey from his hands.

His cheeks were flushed, and he gave you an awkward smile before nodding his head vigorously. “And uh.. I want to court you.” He finally added all in one breath.

To Choso’s delight, you agreed, and now, he finally understands the real reasoning behind giving his jersey to someone he likes because seeing “KAMO” on your back makes him feel all dizzy with love and adoration.

TOJI

It started off as a small prank amongst girls. A prank that really pissed Toji off. A group of girls decided it would be cute to steal Toji’s spare hockey jersey and wear it without his knowledge.

When Toji saw one of the girls wearing his stolen jersey with his appalling last name printed on the back, he was livid.

Needless to say, he got his jersey back, and the girl couldn’t even look him in the eye after that whole experience.

He hated his jersey. He hated how his last name was on the back, and he hated how anyone else would want to wear it.

He couldn’t just get rid of his spare jersey. Then, he’d owe the school even more than what he already owes them. He couldn’t trust to keep it in his dorm because he didn’t put it past those bitches to try to sneak into his dorm to get their filthy hands on it. That was when he had a genius idea.

“Wear my jersey.” His gruff voice demanded as he dropped the fabric on the table in front of you, his too responsible friend.

“No, it probably stinks.” You pushed the jersey aside, trying to focus on the homework in front of you.

“Nah. It smells like the last bitch who stole it.” He remarked as he plopped down in a chair in front of your desk.

“Even worse.” You respond back unamused, still not giving Toji the time of day.

“Do you remember who hunted down the fuck who stole your headphones?”

You sighed, finally looking up at Toji to show that you were paying attention. “Why do you think me wearing your jersey will deter them?”

“Maybe they’ll think you’re my girl and piss off for a while. I don’t know, but if I see another preppy bitch wearing it without my knowledge, I’m going to burn it.” Toji’s voice sounded stressed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And you don’t mind them thinking that?” You inquire, raising your eyebrow.

“Doll, you know I’ve spent the last three years trying to get you to hop on my-“

“Eughhh, give it.” You interrupt Toji before he can go into any further detail, snatching his jersey up and putting it on over your clothes. “There. Happy?”

Toji didn’t expect to have such a reaction to seeing you in his jersey. He knew he was serious about liking you, no matter how much you liked to believe that he didn’t actually like you, but seeing you in his jersey — the way it swallowed you whole. He figured he’d still hate seeing his last name on you, but there was something satiating those deep primal urges when he caught a glimpse of “ZENIN” across your back.

SUKUNA

Sukuna is much comparable to a dragon. He sees something pretty and shiny (you): he wants it all for himself. He wants to hoard treasure (you) to keep, and he definitely does not like the idea of anyone else looking or touching his treasure.

So, how does he keep wandering eyes off his treasure? He cloaks her in his favor, making her brandish his last name on her back along with his number. Yes, Sukuna demanded for you to wear his football jersey.

There was just enough satisfaction of seeing you walk around campus with “SUKUNA” written on your back that kept him from trying to hoard you in his room.

Oh, he’s also like a dragon in the sense that he’s absolutely devastating out on the field.

Husband! Sukuna with a big, fat wedding ring he ties around a necklace n’ keeps close to his heart. Or, at least, that was the teasing excuse you’d made up - and the one that Sukuna had so fervently declined (it was totally the reason- shhhh.)

Husband! Sukuna that stays up late polishing and cleansing off every speck n’ stupid piece of dust on his most prized treasure - after you, that is. And if you catch him - hell no, you didn’t.

Husband! Sukuna toying with his hefty band whenever he’s going out on an errand without your pretty presence. Twiddling it once, twice, thrice while assuring you that of course he’s gonna come back home safely. Who the hell do you think he is?

Husband! Sukuna pulling out the very same ring and flashing it towards whatever persistent extra that’d pushed past his RBF and thought they had a chance with him. “You see this? This is a sign that m’gonna go home right now and fuck my wife until she can’t walk.”

Husband! Sukuna popping the question again - over and over right in the middle of it. Before pulling another, matching wedding band to slide right on top of your original. And he won’t look at you - won’t even try - when he’s muttering into the soiled sheets, “Let’s get married all over again.”

gojo is met with a small slap to his face. one that wakes him up from his stupor, head swiveling around with barely open eyes. his first instinct is to grab for you, but the only thing he feels is a tiny, plump stomach.

when he opens his eyes wider, his infant daughter is laid next to him, sucking on her favorite binkie. her tiny hand is raised in the air.

you’re laying on the other side of her, passed out and face barely visible from beneath the pillow. he sighs and turns his body towards his daughter. “why are you hitting daddy, hm?” he asks, voice groggy and quiet so he won’t wake you. he knows how you are when you get woken up. “am i snoring again?”

his daughter simply blinks.

he can’t help but smile, pulling her close and laying her on his chest. “fine, fine. i’ll be quiet. it’s too late for you though, little munchkin. go to sleep so daddy can put you to bed.”

his daughter nuzzles her small face into his neck, causing her father to sigh wistfully. he feels himself going back to dreamland, face relaxing.

not even two minutes later, he’s snoring like a hog.

he’s awoken by another smack, harder this time.

⋆·˚ ༘ 'she's busy rn'

synopsis ○ 'she's busy rn' but it's not a prank

gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, yuji, megumi, toge, yuta, choso, uraume

warnings: swearing

author's note ୨୧ anon request! i fear i ate w this one 😔

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑 does not mess around when it comes to your birthday. — fluff drabble || small mention of sex

⎯⎯ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⎯⎯

“Oh my god,” Connie rolled his light-hazel eyes, tossing his head back as he exhaled to signify his annoyance. “Eren, I’m gonna need you to calm the hell down.”

“Shut the fuck up and move the tables,” Eren replied quickly.

The brown-haired man frowned at his sluggish friend, who, instead of helping arrange the tables as he asked him to do thirty seconds ago, was standing there with his sore hands in his pocket.

Connie had just finished bringing the tables into the rented-out venue, and now he had to arrange them as well?

“Where’s Jean? Shouldn’t he be helping too? He’s probably hiding somewhere.” Connie glanced around at the familiar faces of everyone Eren dragged to the venue to help set up your birthday party.

“Jean ran to the store to grab some more forks and plates,” Eren held his hair tie in between his teeth as he spoke. He put his sweaty hair into a low, messy man bun. “I ordered too much food from the caterer, so people are gonna have to take leftovers.”

“You know my greedy ass will,” Connie smiled slightly as he walked over to a heavy table.

“Armin!” Connie shouted, and the blue-eyed boy approached moments later.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?” Armin asked, wiping his sweaty hands off in the towel draped over his shoulder. God only knows what ridiculous tasks Eren had him doing. Probably vacuuming the ceiling or something equally as ridiculous.

“Come help me move these tables,” Connie said to him before darting his eyes over to Eren. “Where do you want ‘em?”

“As close to the buffet as possible. I don’t want them too close to the dance area either, and make sure there’s enough room for people to walk through.”

Before Connie could respond, Eren had already started to walk away because he saw someone in the distance arranging the decorations in your designated gift area incorrectly.

Connie made eye contact with Armin, and they both sighed, reading each other’s minds.

“I think it’s sweet,” Armin shrugged slightly. “He loves her enough to do all of this for her birthday, you know?”

“Armin,” Connie blinked. “He made me, Mikasa, and some other person get rid of all the foldable tables and chairs and bring in real ones. I think I’d act a little crazy too if someone that hot was fucking me almost every night, but this is on a whole new level, dude.”

A soft laugh came from Armin — he was too exhausted to laugh any harder.

“Speaking of tables, let’s move them where he wants them before he-”

“Why the hell are you two just standing there?” Eren shouted from across the venue.

Even from where he stood, which was quite far away, Armin and Connie could see his piercing glare. It sent chills up their spine.

They started to move the tables instantly.

Suddenly, Eren’s phone dinged. Pulling it out of his pocket, his frustrated frown instantly melted into a soft smile as he saw your name appear across his lock screen — which was a photo of you and him posing in front of a luxurious restaurant after your most recent date.

You had texted him a picture of your gorgeous nails.

It was all a part of his plan. You’d spend the day with Sasha and get your hair and nails done to your liking, perhaps sit down for a quick lunch as well. Then, Eren would tell Sasha to bring you to the venue where your surprise party awaited.

After texting you back, complimenting you, Eren put his phone back in his pocket and scanned his eyes across the venue.

Everything was coming together perfectly. Decorations were being placed in the appropriate spots, accenting the room with your favorite color.

Everyone was working hard, breaking a sweat for your birthday party, all because they knew Eren Yeager didn’t mess around when it came to his baby.

And because he wasn’t afraid to kick anyone who messed up anything. He’d kick them right in the stomach.