boyfriend!itachi uchiha and his big and beautiful dark eyes ꒰ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
how can you say no to him?
cw: college au, ooc, art by kiryukazumaaa
You're trying to get your notebook and laptop into your bag when you feel two strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you deeper in the bed. Ah, great, he's awake. Your whole plan of leaving before he wakes up and finally attend a class it's gone down the drain
"Itachi," you call for him, feeling his face bury in the curve of your waist and inhaling you in.
"Mm?" Now he's even tangling his fingers so it's harder for you to break free from his grip.
"I gotta go to class," you explain to him, patting his head and pinching his arm. "And you should too."
You sigh softly, trying to wiggle a little in his hold, but Itachi only tightens his arms around your waist, you can feel the way his nose presses gently into the curve of your waist.
"Itachi," you say again, your voice coming out softer than you meant it to,. You run your fingers through his long dark hair, smoothing it back from his face even as you pretend to be annoyed. "Come on, baby. I really have to go this time. I missed three classes last week because of you."
"Mm… five more minutes," he mumbles, his voice sleepy and rough. His fingers lace together over your belly, locking you in place with that quiet strength of his.
You tilt your head down to look at him. His face is half-hidden against you, but you can see the peaceful curve of his lips, the way his lashes fan out on his cheeks. God, he's so pretty it should be illegal.
"You said that twenty minutes ago. I have a quiz today, you know how much I need to pass this class."
He shifts then, slowly lifting his head enough to rest his chin on your stomach. Those big dark eyes blink open, and fuck. His pupils are so wide and soft, swallowing up most of the deep obsidian color until they look like endless pools of warmth. He stares up at you with this perfect, innocent puppy expression, the thought of you leaving him even for a couple hours is the saddest thing in the entire world. His lower lip juts out just a tiny bit, not quite a pout but close enough to make your resolve crumble.
"But you'll come back right after, right?" he asks quietly, kind of purring. One of his hands slides up your back under your shirt, tracing lazy circles on your skin that make goosebumps rise everywhere. "I wanted to make breakfast for you."
You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide, because you know he's doing this on purpose. Itachi is never this openly clingy with anyone else, but with you? He's like a big cat and you're his favorite human.
"You're impossible," you whisper, cupping his cheek with one hand. Your thumb brushes over his smooth skin. "What happened to my cool and mysterious boyfriend who used to act all aloof? Now you're just a giant teddy bear who won't let me out of bed."
He turns his face into your palm and presses a lingering kiss there, his eyes never leaving yours.
"I only act cool when other people are around," he admits softly. "Stay a little longer? Please? I hate waking up without you next to me."
You lean down and kiss his forehead, then the tip of his nose, because how can you not when he's looking at you like that? "Baby, I love you so much, but I seriously need to go. My professor already emailed me about attendance. If I miss this one, I might actually fail."
Itachi lets out a dramatic little sigh, but he doesn't loosen his grip. Instead, he rolls over slightly, pulling you with him until you're draped across his chest. Your notebook and laptop are forgotten on the edge of the bed now, his arms wrap around you fully, one hand cradling the back of your head so you can hear his steady heartbeat.
"Just ten minutes," he negotiates, his fingers playing with curls of your hair. "I'll make it worth it. I can help you study after class too."
You laugh quietly against his shirt, burying your face in the fabric because his scent is so comforting it makes you want to say yes to everything. You know damn well he isn't going to help you in anything.
"Stop looking at me with those eyes! You know what they do to me."
"What eyes?" he asks innocently, but the way he widens them even more, tilting his head like a lost puppy, tells you he's fully aware. His hand rubs soothing circles on your lower back. "I just want my girlfriend here with me. Is that so bad? The bed feels too big when you're gone."
You peek up at him, your chin resting on his chest. His hair is all messy from sleep, falling around his shoulders in silky waves. "You're so dramatic." You make a little pause, looking away and then right back at him. "Five minutes."
"Ten."
"Seven. And don't push it or I'll leave right now."
He pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head as he tucks you against him perfectly. You snuggle into him, breathing in his warmth, knowing damn well that these mornings are some of your favorite things in the world.
"You're lucky you're so cute," you mumble against his neck.
⤷ ゛sukuna desperately trying to get the hot lifeguard’s attention using his nephew yuuji. you, the lifeguard, are not very impressed. ˎˊ˗
the sun was a merciless bastard, baking the sand until it shimmered. you, perched high on your lifeguard stand, were the only relief in sight. sunglasses perched on your nose, whistle glinting, you were the undisputed ruler of this stretch of beach and sukuna, sprawled on a towel like a lazy lion, was utterly captivated.
he’d been watching you for an hour. the way you scanned the water, the authoritative tilt of your head, the way your sun-kissed skin looked in that red swimsuit. he needed to have you. but you were a quite literally blind to his want and every attempt to get your attention had failed.
“oi, brat,” he grunted, nudging the pink-haired teenager next to him with a foot. yuuji, who had been happily building a rather lopsided sandcastle, looked up, sand clinging to his nose.
“what, uncle sukuna?” yuuji asked, squinting.
“see that lifeguard?” sukuna didn’t point, just jerked his chin in your direction. “i need her to notice me.”
yuuji blinked. “so… go talk to her?”
“don’t be a simpleton,” sukuna scoffed. “she’s too focused on her job. we need to create a distraction. maybe an emergency.”
yuuji’s eyes widened, immediately darting to the calm ocean. “a real one? is someone drowning?”
“no, you imbecile. a fake one.” sukuna’s eyes glinted with a terrible plan. “you. you’re going to pretend to drown.”
yuuji’s face fell. “what? no! that’s mean! and what if i actually get in trouble?”
“you won’t,” sukuna said, his voice brooking no argument. “it’s shallow. just flail around a bit. act pathetic. it’s your specialty.”
“it is not my specialty!” yuuji protested, but sukuna had already grabbed him by the back of his swim trunks and was dragging him toward the water.
“just do it, you little shit. or i’ll tell your mother about the time you tried to use her good kimono as a cape.”
yuuji groaned, shoulders slumping in defeat. “fine! but you owe me. like, a lot of ice cream.”
he waded into the water, looking back with a look of pure, theatrical dread. then, with a sigh that could be heard from the shore, he started flailing his arms and yelling in the most unconvincing way possible. “oh no! help! i am… drowning! augh! water!”
sukuna watched, ignoring the urge to cover his face with secondhand embarrassment eating him alive, in favour of waiting for you. but you didn’t move much, leaned forward in your seat and when you saw yuuji standing and then deliberately falling in, you just gave a slow, irritated shake of your head, and went back to scanning the horizon. your expression was clear: nice try, kid.
sukuna couldn’t even blame you.
“useless,” sukuna snarled under his breath. yuuji stopped flailing, a look of utter humiliation on his face as he walked back to the shore, dripping and defeated.
“she didn’t buy it!” yuuji whined.
“gee i wonder why,” sukuna deadpanned as he slapped the back of yuuji’s head. he walked over to the edge of the water where yuuji stood, then, without a word, he shoved his nephew squarely in the chest. yuuji, caught completely off guard, toppled backward with a surprised squawk and a dramatic splash, landing in a shallow dip that was, admittedly, just a little deeper than he was tall.
“hey!” yuuji’s head broke the surface, coughing and sputtering for real this time, his eyes wide with genuine panic. “what was that for?!”
but sukuna was already looking up at your stand, a smug, expectant grin on his face. now, he thought. now she has to come.
he saw you sigh with profound annoyance written on your face. you slid down the side of your stand and began walking toward the water. sukuna’s heart did a triumphant little flip. finally.
you strode past him, not even sparing him a glance. you walked straight into the water, up to your waist, and hooked a strong arm around confused yuuji and guided him back to shore.
as you deposited him safely on the sand, you finally turned to sukuna, your gaze sharp and icy. you leaned in, the smell of coconut sunscreen and salt water filling his senses, making him feel dizzy for a reason that had nothing to do with the sun. his plan was working… wasn’t it?
“did you just seriously push him in?” you asked, your voice even.
sukuna’s grin only widened. he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble. “i just wanted to get your attention. you’re a very hard woman to distract.”
“i’m a lifeguard,” you said flatly. “it’s my job to see through bullshit.”
“then you must see i’m serious,” sukuna said, his red eyes locked on yours. “the kid’s fine. i wouldn’t actually hurt him.” he offered a dismissive wave at yuuji, who was currently trying to cough up a lung on the sand behind them. “he’s tougher than he looks. the point is, i got you down here. and since you’re here, how about we skip the near-drowning and you just let me take you out for a drink?”
you stared at him, a storm of irritation swirling in your eyes. your lips pressed into a thin line.
“you are an ass,” you said, poking a finger into the center of his chest. sukuna resisted the urge to grip your wrist in his hand.
sukuna’s grin was utterly insufferable. “and you’re hot. so, what do you say?”
yuuji, finally recovered, scrambled to his feet. “uncle sukuna! i’m telling mom you tried to drown me!”
“shut up, yuuji,” sukuna said without looking away from you. “can’t you see i’m in the middle of something?”
you crossed your arms, your gaze flickering from his arrogant smirk to yuuji’s indignant, pouty face.
“you guys look weirdly identical.”
“no, he’s uglier.” “no, he’s uglier!” yuuji and sukuna both say in unison.
a small, reluctant smile finally tugged at the corner of your lips. you shook your head, the fight draining out of you. yes, he was an absolute menace, but he was also, infuriatingly, very, very charming. he’s been told so many times.
“one drink,” you said, holding up a finger. “and if you try to drown anyone else to get my attention, i’m having you banned from the beach. permanently.”
sukuna’s smile was triumphant. “agreed. i only need one chance.” he glanced over at yuuji. “see, kid? patience is a virtue.”
“you pushed me into the water!” yuuji yelled.
“whatever, loser,” he turned back to you, his expression softening into something almost genuine. “what’s your name, pretty?”
you told him, along with your number, and then you walked back to your stand, the whistle swinging against your chest. sukuna watched you go, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face. he’d gotten what he wanted, after all.
Synopsis: you’ve worked alongside Gojo Satoru for years; he’s painfully arrogant, critical about everything, and infuriatingly competent at his job. Worst of all, he’s just as striking as everyone thinks. For once, someone looks your way, why is it he cares so much?
tags: lowkey enemies/rivals to lovers, reader has a thing for being praised, journalist au, unedited (sorry :P)
pt. 1 - pt. 2
my masterlist
You'd thought the intern was trying to get a good word out of you at first. It wasn't uncommon for aspiring journalists to do whatever they could to get their foot in the door of such a competitive industry. The fact that he had been accepted onto the office floor seemingly was not enough for him. Hey, you could appreciate a handworker.
The clicking of the keyboard directly before you could only be overshadowed by the usual smacking of gum from the editor who was absent today. Her vacant desk oddly quiet. You flipped through your notebook and added even more sticky notes to your monitor, reminders of all the tasks to complete this week.
You were just about as type A as a person could be, everything was done on time, and done well. You had made something of a name for yourself and the validation kept you going. You devoured praise like it was the only thing sustaining you. That was the type of attitude that landed you positions in the greatest opinion piece publisher in Japan.
You weren't the only one who was overly competitive; however, no, someone else had become well-known even beyond his article acclaim.
The sweet little interns watched that man now like hawks. The moment his boisterous presence entered the open floor of the office cubicles, eyes followed him with an anxious reverence reserved only for the brain behind the words so many bore witness to.
Satoru Gojo was a well-known creature, even outside of journalism, the press, and the news.
Today, of course, he was in one of those moods. He sauntered into the room with a casual arrogance of someone who knew full well that the earth continued to rotate because he demanded it to be so.
The meeting he had just left was running late, his afternoon had been disrupted and the chaos he had yet to dispel was surely about to be unleashed on some unsuspecting intern.
"I've worked here far too long for superiors to still be unable to summarize a damn meetinggg~" Gojo hummed around a mouthful of croissant he had stolen from the client table. The editor that typically sat beside you would have flinched at Gojo's current gesticulation mid-rant.
You missed the peace she brought you when Gojo came around. Crumbs fell as the man licked his fingers. "Wasting my time like that, someone's gotta let them go."
You spun in your chair, looking back to see if Yaga, the company's publishing editor-in-chief, the very man Satoru Gojo was badmouthing over a sip of smoothie, was hearing his insults.
You didn't even blink when the very 'superior' exited from the conference room, waving Gojo off. The interns seemed even more worried. "The office doesn't revolve around your snacking schedule, Gojo. If you want perfect synchronicity, you might as well quit."
The apprentices looked between each other and you smiled them off, silently telling them to get back to researching the projects they were supposed to be putting together.
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Satoru squinted, judging your very existence with his gaze.
He sighed theatrically, lounging himself across an open swivel chair of the empty editors cubical as if sitting through an assembly was the greatest waste of his precious- "They should know how important my time is-"
You roll your eyes, cutting him off, "Oh yes, so terribly important that you're spending it eating and bitching to me."
If you were being wholly honest, the shareholders in that meeting should be grateful. You'd never say it aloud, but Satoru Gojo wasn't just a writer. He was a cultural phenomenon. In his early twenties, he had already been revered for his reporting and interviewing skills, his name had graced more publications post-grad than you had even after building your portfolio.
His rate per word was outrageous as well as his schedule: a true nightmare. The Tokyo Times was beyond lucky to have been able to keep him on the team for as long as they had.
He sighed, rolling his eyes, the drama queen. He reached across you, stealing one of your pens and spinning it around amidst his fingers. "'The only reason I haven't jumped ship is because it brings me." He glided out of the chair and leaned against your cubicle, sliding the pen along the decor you had there, observing it, "so much pleasure", you wince at his seductive tone, "to bring you…annoyance." You smack his hand before he can poke the fat of your cheek with the writing utensil.
Satoru grins, spinning away with your pen, scraping up a donut before making the way back to his office. His very own, if you were curious.
One of the trainees from earlier was watching this interaction. He had a look of shock on his face as if he couldn't imagine someone smacking The Satoru Gojo.
You'd like to imagine he just couldn't fathom such a well-revered writer being so immature, but alas, that was less likely.
If it was possible for someone to be more critical than yourself when it came to work, it was Satoru. He had this sadistic urge in him that made it impossible to not call out the mistakes of others. It stung. That was the truth, but you would rather he tell you his thoughts then lie to your face and laugh behind your back.
Working with him was more of a challenge than a motivation most days. The salary was a great motivation, though. Yaga and his team paid you well. More than that though, was the rage to outlive that white haired tantrum of a man.
You could see it in the way he smirked at you, in the way his eyes found yours when you would slip up, the way he never seemed to take you seriously. This might just be the worst aspect of your personality; you just couldn't help but want to impress people, even if they didn't respect you.
"He seems like fun to work alongside." One of the interns had left the side of his fellow novices. Making small talk, telling a joke.
You shrug at the young man, "Most can't tolerate him for longer than a fiscal quarter. I hope you have what it takes."
He looked down at his shoes suddenly, "Me too."
He was tall, or taller than you at least, sweet, and earnest. He dressed up for every day at the office, he was never late, and he greeted every employee by name - to put it simply, he made a good impression. You turn your chair to him, "How are you liking your internship, is it the experience you hoped for?"
He smiled again, and his eyes practically twinkled. "I'm very grateful for the experience, I'll continue to work hard."
"I have no doubt." You nodded encouragingly at him and turned to face the screen before you. You figured he would move onto his fellows, go work on his project maybe, but he stayed standing there for a moment too long.
He heaved a breath as if steeling himself to say something risky. "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you."
He looked suddenly shy, "I've read a lot of your stuff, you've been a real inspiration to me, and being able to work here has been-"
You know where this is going, you give him an understanding nod. Reading off the name on his chest, you lean in conspiratorially, whispering "I'm sorry, I won't be able to sway the decisions on who gets offered jobs after your program is up. But you're a hard worker, I'm sure y-"
He startles suddenly, waving his hands frantically, "No! Oh, no, no, I'm not... asking for anything like that... I'm sorry I came off that way, I was just... well," He swallows, and you attempt to track his eyes as they wander, confused about what he could possibly want from you.
"I just... I admire you a lot. You're bright, and...you're beautiful...and I was actually wondering if I could buy you a meal sometime?" He sounded so unsure of himself but he was standing up straight, breathing through his nose.
You weren't sure what to say. You knew you weren't unattractive but to be completely frank, people didn't ask you out. You chalked it up to being intimidating or perpetually busy, or a control freak. Whatever the cause, you were not accustomed to people liking you in that way.
You flush.
"Oh..." You had to replay his words over and over again. Your mouth opened and closed, and you tried to weigh what he was asking. He was cute, but also… he was an intern at the company you worked for.
Before you could even formulate a response, you were jerked back to reality when the gentleman who had just so adamantly confessed his feelings made an "aagh!" noise.
Yaga was tugging him by the ear. "You, young man, better get back to work before I deduct points from your final presentation for fraternization."
He looked overcome with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck while apologies spilled from his mouth. Yaga flicked him gently before he could bow anymore and rolled his eyes your way.
Dumbstruck, you stared at the screen of your computer for a long while. A dozen tabs were open, your task bar was still full of items you needed to get to today, even so, you found yourself cupping your cheeks, feeling the blood that had pooled there.
"Please don't tell me that was your type."
You're not sure when he appeared, but Gojo Satoru was staring at you with discernment. He had a judgmental eyebrow raised and he was tongue-ing at his cheek.
"Jesus." You huff, stretching your jaw, trying to brush off the flush you felt atop your ears. "What on earth are you doing?"
You made a brave attempt to type something onto a notation sheet. Dispelling the embarrassment that came with someone actually liking you.
"What am I doing? Look at yourself, you're all sheepish over some kid hitting on you."
You choke, "He's not a kid! He's graduated."
Satoru squints at you now, moving even closer. "Oh my gosh," he pulls a 'I'm-grossed-out-by-you-but-intrigued-all-the-same' face and continues, "are you actually into younger guys?"
"No!" You pant, your hands spread. He wasn't even that much younger than you, but being pressed about anything romantic, especially from Gojo was embarrassing.
"What's with this face you're pulling then?" He tapped the pen he had so rudely stolen earlier atop the wall of your cubicle, "I've never seen you all-" he fake gags, "-shy like this."
You huff, trying to find the words. "I'm-" you scoff, trying again, "not all of us are so used to...that sort of thing."
He straightens up suddenly, pulling his lips together, "Are you saying like... being flirted with?" He chuckles at the idea and you grit your teeth.
Breathing in, you try to laugh, trying to sound nonchalant, but it comes out annoyed. "Yes, Gojo, not everyone has people falling at their feet all the time."
Have I mentioned that Satoru, on top of being an incredibly talented creative, was a painfully striking individual to look at? Well, sure, he was very symmetrical. And tall. And he had...nice teeth. Veins too. It’s fair to say he wasn't lacking when it came to attention.
"So...you like him then." Somehow, he seemed offended at the idea.
"No, not necessarily." Was he trying to insinuate you were some kind of creep? He couldn't have been more than two years your junior. "But he was nice..."
"Nice?" Satoru wheezed. You didn't move. This whole interaction was ticking you off. Gojo's guffaws continued until he noticed you were just silently staring at him. "Are you serious?" He wiped a faux tear.
Why this was so upsetting for you, you couldn't quite place. "Yes, Gojo." You had a bit of an insulted tone to your voice, you wondered why he didn't seem to care about wasting his precious time with you suddenly.
"What... that's all it takes with you?"
Gears began to turn in Satorus' brain as he observed you now, taking in the new information.
"Normal people like niceness, Satoru, crazy, I know." You refuse to meet his gaze but he stands infuriatingly still, arms crossed, before his head canters to the side as if considering the concept for the first time.
"hmm..."
He shifts on his feet. You grow more tense by the second, waiting for his next snide comment. He clicks the pen a few times before slowly, setting it back on your desk. And then he was finally gone.
Next chapter out tomorrow morning, or whenever yall prefer ❤️ thank you for the patience, I have no excuse for how this took me so long, it’s very short because I’ve been focusing on the next wishful thinking chap
a note from angel: im sorry i need to stop making new series this is an addiction of mine that i can't stop, pls sukuna leave me alone, i feel like im making a multiverse of sukunas.
synopsis: trying a new coffee shop didn't end up going your way when a mean barista takes your order. the problem? he's rude as fuck but he's the best at making your drinks. when you end up giving him a taste of his own medicine, you end up in a deal where this grumpy barista finds himself in the habit of making your morning coffee. everyday. for the next seven days.
tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, barista!sukuna, fluff, crack
word count: 3.7k words
Coffee is part of your daily routine.
If you don't start your day with coffee then it can be ensured that the day will be a terrible day.
You're not strict about your coffee, you don't simply stick to one type of drink. You're the type to explore and try new things. From lattes, to espressos, to cappuccinos, matcha, chai tea, hojicha and a lot more. The convenience of living in a big city is that there will always be a bunch of cafes and coffee shops to try with new businesses opening all over the blocks.
You've made it your own personal mission to try as many new shops in the city, not limiting yourself to one place. You want to support as much of the local businesses as possible, staying away from the big corporate brands. You have enough dealing with business and corporate issues in your work life so the least you can do is support your local community in your personal free time.
On your scout to work you happen to come across a new coffee shop. It's slightly hidden on the block but the brand name and minimalist colours catch your eye.
'Fuga.'
You're interested immediately. Coming to a stop outside, the meaning of the shop name is printed in white on the window. 'Fuga — One of the Japanese meanings of this is 'a way of elegance or grace'. We hope to include fuga with every order that we take; there's no rush, just sit back and enjoy.'
The opening and closing times are also unusual. They're open in time for the usual morning rush hour but unlike other coffee stores, they stay open until 9pm. You can't imagine the shifts that their staff must take and how much happens behind the scenes.
Despite being hidden, it is the morning rush hour on a weekday and through the window you can clearly see that there is a queue forming. Underrated coffee shops get discovered pretty quickly these days thanks to social media and it's not long until they'll be announcing a sister location somewhere else in the city.
Stepping inside, a bell chimes overhead but it's drowned out due to the hustle and bustle inside the shop. The scent of crushed coffee beans hits you immediately and the sound of lofi music playing in the background is just about heard over the level of conversations in the store.
Joining the queue, your eyes scan the cafe. It's pretty spacey compared to the other units that most coffee shops rent out. There's clearly more places to sit in the back and all of the window seats are currently taken. There's a handful of students and people in suits either sat working away on their laptops or taking a call. In the corner an old man is sitting back and enjoying a cup of his own hot coffee.
There's three people currently manning the counter and you worry whether that means service is slow but on further observation you notice they work well, weaving in and out of each other. There's a man situated at the till, tall and large you first notice. Then you see that he has pink hair and it's only when you inch closer to being served that you notice he has an array of black tattoos. They're printed on his face as well as around his wrists and you start to wonder how many baristas you've seen with face tattoos.
He seems to be the first.
Behind him seems to be a white haired figure with a plum pink stripe dyed into their hair. It's clear that whoever employs these people are very laid back with how they are presented. The figure moves quickly but also with caution pouring and making drinks before bringing them to the collection section and calling out a name.
You've been so caught up in studying the new environment of the cafe that you don't even realise that it's your turn next. You haven't had the chance to look at the menu so when you finally do, you're left with your mouth open in front of the tattooed man. And on closer observation you find that he's rather intimidating.
"Good morning." you greet.
"What do you want?" he asks in a monotone tone evident that he's been repeating this question for a while. You brush off the fact that he hasn't greeted you back and you simply hum as you stare at the menu.
It's evident that you're irritating the barista by not even knowing what you want, the bored expression on his face and his finger impatiently tapping the counter. Your eyes are scanning the menu until he finally says something that in all of your years of going to local cafes have never heard in your life.
"Can you hurry up?"
"Excuse me?"
"I said," he draws as if it's painfully inconveniencing him to repeat himself, "can you hurry up? There's a queue behind you." It's evident in his tone that he's not asking but rather ordering you to do so and for a split second there's a moment in which you forget that you are in fact the customer.
"I'm aware." you say, "I'm deciding."
"You had two minutes to decide." he retorts.
"I've never been here before, of course I'm going to take my time looking at the menu." you keep a calm tone making it clear that you don't want any misunderstandings.
"Do you want a medal? What's your order?"
Fine. You think to yourself, you're gonna give him the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe it's been a long morning, maybe he wasn't supposed to be on shift today but then got called in, maybe he's just an asshole. You don't care. But what you do care about is getting your morning coffee as usual.
"Vanilla latte with oat milk please."
"We're out of oat milk." he announces keeping his tone flat with enough space to add some frustration into it as if this was your own fault.
"Really?"
He doesn't reply, keeping a blank face that silently asks 'do I look like I'm joking?'
"Uhhh, could I get an iced strawberry matcha then please?"
"We're out."
You hold back a sigh, forcing a tight lipped smile on your face. "Fine. A cappuccino. Any milk you have. Please."
The barista doesn't look up, tapping onto a screen. "Regular or large?"
"What's the difference?" you ask.
He points to the side where the size cup differences are shown and as usual the large is 50p extra.
"Regular."
"Name?"
After giving your name, he mutters something under his breath and if you were in a bad mood this morning then you would have asked him what his issue was but instead you keep quiet, silently wishing he spills lukewarm coffee all over his disgustingly attractive face. Somehow. If it was logical to spill coffee on one's face.
"Four fifty. Tap your card and stand over there." he orders without any patience.
You don't even think twice before tapping your phone and moving immediately. In your mind you continue to curse him forever whilst watching his back muscles move swiftly as he makes your drink. Him and the white haired figure switched places with him making your order and his co-worker now at the till.
You expected a long wait but it takes less than five minutes before he's yelling out your name with impatience.
And he pronounced it wrong.
Whether it was on purpose or he wasn't listening to you at all, you'll never know but you go ahead and take your order. You can't even say thank you directly before he's rushing off and completing another order. Deciding to get out as soon as possible, you grab as many sugar packets you need, a stirrer and you head on out.
"How fucking rude." you mutter to yourself, opening the lid to your cappuccino. There's no latte art and you wouldn't expect there to be given the rush. You pour your sugar in and stir until satisfied, slowly making your way to the office building.
Sure, you know baristas are sometimes not the most welcoming people given the high stress level of their jobs and you've come across some reclusive baristas before but this one…he's just plain rude. You don't usually complain about how people do their job but this one has really struck a nerve.
How was he hired in the first place? Does the manager know he speaks to customers like this? How did he even pass an interview to get hired for this place? Does he act like this with all his customers?
Those are the questions that you continue to ask yourself whilst on the way to work, you get a little distracted after taking a sip of your coffee and coming to find out that your cappuccino is actually pretty good. Usually some cafes don't do cappuccinos the right way but there's something about this cup that makes you wonder what exact type of coffee bean they use.
You make a mental note to check later in your free time and it's not long before you start to feel rejuvenated by your coffee. Despite your bad customer service, you still manage to get a good cup of coffee to support your day and it's almost enough to forget your bad interaction.
***
Almost.
That cup of coffee was good.
Good enough to make you check their company website and check their 'about us' page.
And of course it just so happens that you stumble onto their google reviews.
Fuga Coffee Shop | reviews (54)
Naturally, your laptop cursor clicks onto their reviews. They only opened two months ago so it's understandable why the reviews must be so low, they're just starting out. The reviews are automatically filtered to their top reviews, which is from just over two weeks ago.
ihatemonkeys009
The grumpy tattooed barista is a little anti-social but he makes the best lattes ever! will be coming back again! four stars.
"A little?" you say aloud to yourself, "give me a break."
The review that follows under that is also highly popular.
ghostsarerealiswear2334_67
free wifi and they open early and don't close till late?! best study place ever! (please like my review!) five stars.
kentoforwork89
A nice and newly established restaurant under the Japanese name 'Fuga', the name is fitting for its elegant service and high quality coffee. They have a wide range on the menu and serve food too. The cafe is spacious, plenty of space to study or work and if you use electronics they have power sockets dotted around. Good prices for the service and highly reliable. I will be coming here again as it is not overwhelmingly busy or loud like some other places. I highly recommend. four and a half stars.
ilovesweetssooooooooooomuchhhgojo9838
tHE tattooed barisSta maybe be cold hoever his coffees are the warmest!!!!! xoxoxoxo peefect date location (soz for typos idid this fast on my phone so i coulget fre emochi) FIVE STARTS
You let out a sigh reading the reviews, it's a little cheesy but you get the point. Reading all 54 reviews you've come to find that a lot of people find the same tattooed barista annoying but miraculously all is forgotten once you've tried a coffee from him.
There isn't one totally bad review — maybe from an AI bot who says that the location is in a whole other city but other than that it's clear that this cafe is a new and upcoming contender as one of the best spots in the city.
And that doesn't sit right in your soul.
Taking this personally as someone who runs a company, you understand that if people were talking about your employees in this manner then they would be subject to being fired. You're confused on how this man is still employed even after fifty reviews, surely the owner must be reading them.
You sit in silence for a while as you contemplate.
Should you?
Or shouldn't you?
Hesitant, your fingers hover over your keyboard, testing out a sentence.
i tried this cafe as a new customer — no, no, too cliche, you backspace your sentence entirely.
Thinking for a moment, you reflect on what you want to say. You start typing slowly before it all flows within your fingertips, a mini paragraph forming on your screen. You're writing in the heat of the moment, out of pure frustration and embarrassment. Most people would be able to forgive and forget but well…unfortunately you're not most people.
anonymouscapybara45
this place is relatively new in this city and as a coffee lover i was extremely enthusiastic to try this place out. my high hopes for this cafe were quickly crushed once i was (not even greeted) but completely mistreated by the tattooed barista.
i did not like this service, no matter how good the quality of the coffee was.
i do not think a barista should be talking to customers like this. i felt severely unwelcomed and i am having second thoughts on returning to this place.
there's better and kinder staff in other cafes in the city who i will gladly give my money too.
1 out of 5 stars.
Sure, it's a little…Karen but you feel petty. Highlighting all the adverbs makes you think that your english teacher from high school would be proud. There's a small feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach as it dawns on you that your review will be the first one star review the company has ever had.
But this is not a baseless review. You actually felt this way at the time. It's a little exaggerated but who cares, they don't know you and they never will because you're not stepping foot there ever again.
There's not much satisfaction in the world that you can get other than pressing post on your review.
***
An hour later you've moved on with your life. You've settled into your home, following your post-work routine and you're now sitting on your couch. Your phone lights up with a notification and your eyes land on the screen.
You get a notification from your gmail that someone has mentioned you in a reply and with your thumb clicking on the message your eyes slightly widen.
The owner has replied to your message.
And for the first time it seems because they haven't seemed to reply to all the other positive messages on the site.
You'd forgotten that this was an option for them, simply thinking that your review would just get the employee removed. Your eyes skim over the reply.
From the Owner of Fuga in reply to anonymouscapybara45
Hello valued customer,
we apologise that you have had this experience recently, it is never our intention to make our customers feel this way. Our company and brand relies majorly on the respect and communication with our customers which is always taught and trained to our employees. We apologise for the actions and behaviour of our barista and on behalf of the company we would like to invite you to have any item on our menu free of charge over the course of the week. We would like to give you a seven day voucher and invite you back to a better atmosphere of our cafe to show you truly how we treat our customers.
Please pop into our cafe at your convenience. We look forward to seeing you and we apologise again for your experience.
Kind regards,
Fuga Owner (Jin Itadori)
Your mind is baffled.
Free drinks…for a week? Because of your bad review?
Not even the other low starred reviews have had this level of response from the owner. You're the first one star review they've had and they haven't even responded maliciously. You can't pass up on this good of an opportunity to have free coffee for the next week? You could be saving a ridiculous amount of money.
You re-read the review a few times to make sure that it still seems real to your eyes.
Maybe it will be the last time that you'll see that barista again.
**
You try your luck the following day. You're a bit more hopeful walking into the coffee shop the next day. It's a little less busier than the previous day and the queue is a little shorter.
But most important of them all, you don't see that tattooed jerk around.
This time serving the till is the white haired figure you saw making the drinks the last time you arrived. Behind them works another person that you haven't seen before who has their back turned making orders.
Soon enough it's your turn to go up to the till.
"Hello." They greet and almost immediately you feel comfortable that you won't be shunned for simply being a customer at this cafe.
"Good morning," you greet back with a smile before explaining your situation. "This may be a bit awkward but uhm, I was the customer who wrote a review of this cafe and uh— the owner said I was given a voucher as some sort of compensation."
For a second you thought you were scammed or that the entire thing was a lie just to catch the poor customer who's written terrible reviews but you watch as the wave of recognition hits the barista.
Instead they nod and say, "one moment" before turning around to head to the back. You shift from one foot to the other, patiently waiting and in the meantime thinking of what you'd want to get as your first free drink.
Your smile soon drops once you see the figure that follows the person that you were speaking to at the till.
That tattooed bastard.
His eyes widen slightly at the sight of you before turning into a miserable frown, clearly he wasn't expecting you to be the customer who wrote the review but there's also something that tells you that he's not totally surprised.
The white haired barista makes their way back to you, "If you go over to Sukuna he can help you with your voucher."
Sukuna. Now you know his name. And now you know he's somehow still employed by this damn coffee shop.
You walk over with hesitation and you can't help but notice Sukuna's eyes watching you as you make your over to a quiet area.
"It was you." he says but there's no bite to his tone. It's merely a statement he's making but you don't miss the judgement in his eyes.
"I was being honest." you shrug, holding your head high. You have no regrets whatsoever, you were merely giving constructive feedback about an environment that felt hostile to you. About a certain someone who was hostile.
Sukuna leans in a little closer to you, one hand placed on the counter as he speaks to you. "Because of you and your stupid review I have to serve you free drinks for a week, which is coming out of my pay by the way."
"Maybe it'll teach you how to speak nicer to customers." you retort back.
You notice his hand turning into a tight fist, gripping the counter, clearly holding back on responding to you. With his other hand he slides over a piece of paper. "Here's your damn voucher and, no I didn't write it, so what do you want?"
You tilt your head a little at him.
Sukuna corrects himself and in a deadpan monotone he starts over. "Hello. Welcome to Fuga. What would you like today?"
A satisfied smile reaches your lips. "Much better. I would like an iced strawberry matcha with oat milk please."
"Regular or large?"
"Hmm since it's on the house, large please."
"It's not on the house…" he mutters.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Hmmmmm."
Sukuna disappears, diving into the hustle and bustle of his other colleagues making your own personal drink. As he makes your drink you look over your voucher, Sukuna's written today's date already and the expiry date is set seven days from now.
Once again, your order doesn't take him long and you spot your green and pink drink in his large hands. Approaching he hands your drink over to you which you thank before taking a sip.
On your tongue, the grassy flavour is immediately sedated by the sweetness of the strawberry at the bottom. There's the perfect amount of ice and matcha in your drink for you to enjoy and it takes everything in you not to fall to your knees and praise Sukuna on how great he's made this drink.
"Not bad." you murmur, downplaying your enthusiasm. "Can I get another free drink?"
"One per day stupid."
"The voucher doesn't clarify that, it's handwritten."
"I don't care."
"Would you like me to write another poor review?"
Now this is what gets Sukuna clenching his jaw together. He takes a pause, calming himself down before speaking to you again. "No anonymouscapybara45 I wouldn't like that because you got me in a lot of shit for this."
You don't flinch when he mentions your username. Ah, so he's read the review then. You quip back, "Your boss fire you yet?"
"No," and there's a slight pout, "he's just annoying the shit out of me at the moment."
"Hmm right, if you make me an iced vanilla latte with oat milk to go I think I might just refrain from writing a bad review about you for today."
You watch as he clenches his jaw in frustration. "Just this once. For the rest of the days you get one drink only."
"And a sweet treat!" you chime in.
Sukuna pauses, mulling over your suggestion. He lets out a sigh.
"A free drink and a snack." He offers.
"Deal." You outstretch your free hand to shake on.
Sukuna looks at your hand in pure disgust like you've just offered to spit in his mouth. "Deal. Just don't make my job harder than it needs to be." he mutters.
"I don't think I can promise that." you reply and you watch in pure satisfaction as he walks away mumbling to himself.
thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed :) i won't be running a taglist for this mini series (pls it is mini) but ya comments and reblogs are appreciated!!
ꮼ unsurprisingly, itadori is one romantic boyfriend
ᦸ fluffy little boyfriend!itadori hcs ⸝⸝ art : hinamie
boyfriend!itadori is a very affectionate man; he likes to hold hands, hug, share chaste kisses, cuddle & hold one or both of your thighs over his while sitting together—the pure intimacy of the touches feels so right.
boyfriend!itadori lets his girlfriend toy with his muscles whenever she wants, rubbing & over his back muscles and tracing shapes on his abs—his favorite, though, is when you want to mess with his biceps, whether you're nipping on them, kissing them, or napping on them.
boyfriend!itadori gets so happy whenever you wear something of his; it could be his sweats, PJs, a hoodie, a stolen shirt, literally anything, and he just finds it so adorable seeing the fabric swallow you up.
boyfriend!itadori is very eager to be a canvas for you, lying flat on his stomach to let you sketch out whatever your heart desires on his flesh. He's always quick to take photos to immortalize your work & show his friends what it looked like before fading.
boyfriend!itadori adores late nights when you're staying up just to talk each other's ears off—he could be gaming, cleaning, working out, or lying next to you, & no matter what, he's happily sitting there as you yap.
boyfriend!itadori has kept one flower from each bouquet he's given you, pressing each of them & slowly framing them together so you can keep a roadmap of your relationship; each frame holds a special time period for both of you.
boyfriend!itadori loves being your boyfriend; it awakened something in him that he never wants to sleep again.
Firefighter!Sukuna who bust down your bathroom door when there was a fire in your building (one that you weren't aware of), clad in thick and hefty bunker gear, eyes scanning the brightly lit bathroom only to spot you in the middle of shower, completely bare, soap bubbles still coating your skin.
Firefighter!Sukuna who clears his throat, looking over his shoulder before turning back to you, cheeks dusted with a rather adorable shade of red.
"Th—there's apartment in next door fire." He stepped closer, hand gesturing for the bathrobe hanging beside the mirror.
"Huh?" Your brows are furrowed, trying to decipher who between you both was having a stroke, maybe the abrupt slam of the door did mess with you head.
The absurdity of the situation startles you enough that the thought of being completely naked before doesn't even cross your mind, at least not until he reached for the bathrobe himself, stepping closer to hand it to you.
Firefighter!Sukuna who acts instinctively, once you are modestly covered, yanks you over his shoulder to quickly move out into the smoke filled hallway, steps heavy against the wooden floor as he made his way out, making sure you didn't get knocked into the wall or door frames.
Firefighter!Sukuna who instantly jumps back into the building after making sure you are steady on your feets, looking over his shoulder once before continuing back inside, hoping he'd find you after the rescue is completed.
Firefighter!Sukuna who frowned when the medic informed that the people had scattered around some to the hospital for minor injuries other taking refuge with friends and family till the apartment complex was fixed.
Firefighter!Sukuna who mulls over the awkward interaction for days, rest of the team teasing him over his jumbled words, hoping to find a reason to go back to your apartment without seeming like a pervert or a creep.
Firefighter!Sukuna who groans loud when he is informed about the routine check up he must have to ensure health, begrudgingly walks into the hospital with rest of the team, brows furrowed as he waited for his name to be called.
"Ryomen Sukuna."
The lady at the desk announced his turn, gesturing towards the door with light glowing above the 'general physician's.
Sukuna sighed, stepping into the office only to be stopped in his tracks, before him stood you, much more clothed, stethoscope hung around your neck as you wrote on charts, eyes widening in recognition when thet met his.
Firefighter!Sukuna who awkwardly stepped into your office, almost tripping over nothing, nearly turning a routine check up into a life threatening emergency.
"You work here?" He asked, nearly slapping his own forehead, of course you do.
You nodded your head, lips pursed together as you placed the clipboard on the desk, patting the stretcher, "I'd hope so."
Firefighter!Sukuna who snorts at your sass, ugly little sound escaping the back of his throat, warmth blooming on his cheeks as you grinned back at him.
Firefighter!Sukuna who sits still while you noted his vitals, metal of the stethoscope cold against his warm skin, eyes following your movement, at one point he caught himself admiring your penmanship.
"You've got good handwriting." He mumbled, pointing to where you noted his pulse rate and blood pressure, "usually doc's have chicken scribble writing."
Firefighter!Sukuna who swears to keep his mouth shut when you continue to look at him in bewilderment, more than once did he catch you suppressing the urge to grin.
Firefighter!Sukuna who waits outside your office to get clearance, only to be handed a doctor's note instead.
"Come back for check up later, your heart rate was abnormally high."
when he walks, it demands attention. every step filling up the sound, the area, the density around you so you know that he’s coming.
it’s even in the slight shake of the little trinkets adorning your coffee table as he drops in the couch, his heavy arms on either side of the long couch back.
or how small everything looked in his hands, how loud it was when he set something down even if it was meant to be light.
how harsh a slap to your ass felt every time you walked past him.
or when his big hands engulfed your waist no matter what you did.
how his body covered yours if you were even washing the dishes, grabbing your keys, beneath, over, under him and even in the shower.
even his fucking shadow dominated yours.
he was just big. and you loved it.
you loved every aspect of it, when he would be fucking so deep, the low drag of his dick pulling out from inside you till just his tip remained and he slammed back inside of you.
it was mesmerizing how heavy he was everywhere. how he didn’t need to do much barely lifting a finger or flexing a muscle to move you in any position he wanted.
but it was perfect watching him in missionary his long, bulky figure sweaty above you, his arms anchored at the sides of your head.
steady for him and a reminder for you of how fucking strong he was. how he could hold you in a armlock and fuck you how he wanted.
or he could bend you over anywhere, anyhow and take you cause you were his.
you’d imagine that’s your favorite position anything that demonstrated his otherworldly strength. the slight cut off of your airflow turning your moans get lighter and breathy while he fucked you on his lap.
or maybe a full nelson, feeling the stretch of your legs as sukuna forced you past what you thought your limit was, feeling the burn as he huffed only focusing on cumming and not the desperate squirm of your body with the new found angle.
but no.
your favorite position was missionary, missionary since you can wrap your legs around the sturdy expanse of his waist as he pressed back inside of you.
your arms could wrap, and scratch around his back and pull his large frame over to give you another kiss.
but your favorite part was when you’d press your hand firmly in the middle of his large back, catching him off guard and pressing all 280 pounds of muscle in top of you until you felt your chest constrict.
some might assume you’re a masochist, torturing yourself like this, feeling your body fight underneath your boyfriends as you chased your orgasm.
or maybe feeling the dark tingle in your lower abdomen as he nipped at your neck, eyes slightly wider than usual watching you heave below him but not wanting to stop.
and how hard it was you came when he finally accepted his fate and lessened the weight in his arms to lie fully on you, hearing the breathless gasp escape out your mouth while you scratch and cum helplessly under him.
but even regular life wasn’t much better.
sukuna could chalk it up to a kink, a sick desire you had or a underlying urge to be close to him.
but he couldn’t understand this.
on the train you’d always push to get on the crowded one, even with another a few minutes begin.
insisting that you stood at the door and he covered you, and every single time without fail he crushes you.
his hard body swinging from the influx of people or the harsh curve of the train, pressing you further and further to the door. and it’s not like you would move away, or that you could.
but he would observe your gleaming eyes, the tight hold you’d have on his dress shirt and the bite of your lips as you finally took a deep shaky breath when he would finally get to back an inch away.
though he was also concerned when it was time to sleep.
“c’monnnn kuna” you’d whine spread like a starfish out on your bed while he you watched your shirtless boyfriend at the end of the bed.
whose arms were folded, his eyebrows scrunched as he watched you almost scared.
“this is concerning even for you.”
“please baby, i’m always on top of you anyways.”
“no.”
“no?”
“no.”
yet and still he found himself, not even ten minutes later, laid out on top of you his heavy chest crushing yours again as you hummed underneath him pleased.
“there is no way you’re comfortable under there”, his muffled voice answered as you basically purred, rubbing his back.
“very.”
“and no way you can breathe.”
“gotten used to it.”
you’re unreal. but still he couldn’t be too bothered watching your light breathes when he turned with his bed head and see the small smile splayed out in your face.
and you?
this wouldn’t the last time you’d want sukuna’s full weight.
“your bones are arranged in such aesthetically pleasing structure, i do not think i could rearrange it to make it any better.”
“… what?”
has your boyfriend been tainted by abyssal corruption? you reach up— it takes a significant effort to hold yourself back from chuckling when you see him immediately lean down in response, expecting headpats like a poor, touch-starved dog— and your hand lands on his forehead.
cold.
perfectly normal, then.
“your hands are very soft and warm, as always,” he hums, leaning onto your palm with a contented hum, “i have always enjoyed the feeling of them carrying me in my lantern form. perhaps the sense of safety is what a kitten feels when they are being carried by their scruff by their mother cat.”
“that’s an adorable analogy, but seriously, what's going on? are you drunk?” you snort and gave him a chaste peck on his lips. hm. nope, no scent of wine.
kyryll smiles. you blink and try to push the flowering blooms away from the edges of your vision. stop that, my mad(ly in love) brain.
“on your love? indeed, it seems i am.”
ah, you roll your eyes in full understanding, your adorable fairy was just trying to flirt. again.
Best Friend!Sukuna is the type to say “you’re fine” instead of “are you okay?”—but he always knows when you’re not.
Best Friend!Sukuna who doesn’t apologize often almost never— but when he does, it’s indirect. He’ll show up with your favorite drink or fix something broken around your apartment
Best Friend!Sukuna who his car immaculate, but his room’s a disaster.
Best Friend!Sukuna that smells faintly of smoke and laundry detergent.
Best Friend!Sukuna who (cant..) cook but insists he can.
Best Friend!Sukuna who remembers every detail about you and pretends it’s just coincidence.
Best Friend!Sukuna that has a soft spot for how you look when you’re angry and he’ll provoke you just to see it.
Best Friend!Sukuna is the first person you call when something good happens.
Best Friend!Sukuna who hates seeing you with other boys.
Best Friend!Sukuna that liked you since kindergarten.
sukuna was tall. you often got neck cramps because he always wanted you looking in his eyes as he talked, but you happened to break your neck every time.
it wasn't just that either. every hug you gave him had your head pressed right up to his chest. you couldn't even reach his shoulder. he would pick you up just so you could rest your head on his shoulder.
sukuna had complaints too. he would quite literally break his back every time he kissed you. he swore he was starting to look like a shrimp as time went on. you were just too tiny.
even though he broke his back at every kiss, he loved how short you were. he loved picking you up and setting you on the counter. he still had to lean down to kiss you but it wasn't as much.
he loved how easy it was to grab and pick you up. if he wanted you on his lap, all he had to do was pull you by your waist. if you were in his way, he would just pick you up and set you aside.
you hated when he did that, but he found it hilarious.
the height difference never bothered sukuna, it was just an added bonus to loving you.
he would never ever wish you grew taller. you were perfect just the way you were.
well that, and he also loved seeing the top of your head.
A girl such as yourself — popular, confident, & a total party animal — should be with any boy other than your private tutor. Yet, you found yourself head over heels for satoru gojo, whom you had hired last second to help your astrophysics grade come back up after prioritizing parties and shopping sprees over it.
You couldn’t help but admire him from time to time. tracing his side profile in your head before doodling it down in the margins of your notebook — the one he had personally bought for you after an accidental coffee spill that ruined your previous one. Not like you had any important notes listed on there to begin with. But that was when something sparked between the two of you, at least, on your end.
& you definitely couldn’t help but let your feelings for him grow despite each other's social status.
His white hair mirrored the snow that poured down on the December evening. You waited patiently in the library, silently stalking his figure as it made its way inside the building. Today would mark your last studying session, making your heart feel a tad bit heavy.
A smile crept up to your face once the doors opened after a minute or so. Quickly patting down your skirt that was above your see through tights, the smile faded when you saw who he had entered with.
Utahime, a classmate you knew was in your astrophysics class as well. She was majoring in something you knew you couldn’t even be able to understand. point being, she was highly intelligent just like satoru was.
And they looked incredible together.
Why has the pairing never clicked to you?
Earlier this week, you recalled jealousy rising in you when utahime interrupted your little rambling with satoru so she could ask for a pen. & it definitely wasn't the first time you've felt possessive over your tutor.satoru smiled at her, laughing at whatever she had said. What made matters worse was when his hand reached up to her raven black hair to pick out fallen snowflakes.
You felt like throwing up.
Of course he liked her. Everything made sense now. Every small wave given to each other in the hallway, every time they’ve partnered up together in class for a project before you came along.
Why would he waste his time with a wannabe sorority girl who needed extra support for a class deemed easy for both him and utahime? why would he ever consider going out with you of all people. If you were to be in high school, you’d definitely poke fun at him. Hell, you still did before actually getting to know him. He only tolerated you because you paid him for his service at the end of the day. Right?
Your eyesight began to get blurry, forcing you to blink rapidly. satoru said goodbye to utahime, approaching where you sat. He adjusted his glasses that had gotten foggy, pulling out a chair.
“wearing a skirt in this weather?” he commented. “at least you actually put on tights this time. Getting smarter I see.” you stayed quiet, just nodding, flipping your textbook to the assigned page. Satoru's playful smirk flickered at the lack of response. “everything alright?”
“Yeah. Can we just start?”
you never just started studying. satoru would have to deal with your usual gossiping first, then watch as you showed pictures of all the new clothes you had gotten over the weekend. “Is everything okay..?”
you wanted to yell that no, not everything was okay. That your feelings were eating you alive and that you just wanted to oh so desperately smash your lips onto his until he forgot every algebraic formula.
“I just had a long day.” you simply said.
satoru stared intently, knowing that it was more than just a ‘long day.’ he reached over to close the book, moving you by your chin to look at him. if it were to be any other day, the butterflies in your stomach would be freaking out. but they were still.
he had a thing for touching you in ways that were beyond ‘friendly.’ Now you wondered if what you thought were reserved actions for just you were also used on her.
“doll,” his personal favorite nickname to use on you. “its definitely more than that. talk to me. you’re always there for me when im upset, let me be here for you too.”
it was true that you’d tentatively listen to satoru whenever he had a bad test or when his astronomy club was acting up. It's the least you could do in return.
“There's nothing wrong.”
satoru sighed, feeling himself grow frustrated at your inability to confess to what was eating you up.
your eyes accidentally scanned the room, landing on a familiar red bow. utahime was sat at the computers, posture perfectly straight, clicking away at the keyboard. The look on your face was enough to make satoru turn around. before you could stop him, he figured out immediately what was going on.
his eyes widened in realization. “hey..” he quietly said, reaching for your hands only for you to pull away. you felt embarrassed, knowing what was about to come. rejection.
never in your life were you afraid of being rejected by a guy. you could have anyone you wanted, really. all the frat boys shamelessly flirted with you at parties. but you didn’t want them.
satoru was internally panicking. overtime, his crush on you has doubled in size. no, tripled. he was crazy over you. you were the only thing his few friends would hear about every day whether it be the cute outfit you wore or how you mistook astronomy with astrology.
“Do you like her?” your voice trembled, making satoru’s heart crack. He immediately shook his head. “no, no god no. utahime?” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “hell no.”
you didn’t want to believe it just yet. “but the way you walked in with her-“
“We've been friends since childhood. I swear she’s like a sister to me. besides, she’s with shoko right now, they’re going out.”
oh.
you felt embarrassed.
After a moment of silence, he spoke again “.. did the thought of me going out with her bother you?” he asked, hopeful. His blue eyes stared into yours, somehow making you feel more vulnerable. The library was the last place you’d want to confess to him in, but it really was the place that started it all anyways.
“Yeah, it did. A lot, actually.”
satoru fought back an excited smile. “why?”
“because.. I like you.”
there it was. the confirmation of the reciprocated love. satoru looked around the place, checking that no one was staring into your direction before placing his lips on yours.
He was a sloppy kisser, of course. The lack of experience really showed but neither of you cared. Your eyes widened, shutting as you let yourself melt into him. His chair had scooted next to you, allowing him to wrap his arms around your.
“I like you too. so much.”
⋮
“Fuck, is this what youve been dying to do to me?” satoru slammed your body down onto his aching cock, loving the yelp that came out of your bruised lips. His teeth sank down your neck, savoring you as best as he could. Your hips were giving out with every thrust you gave, requiring his assistance to continue riding him. “Satoru..!” You couldn't even finish your sentence without cringing at the wet noises that were unfortunately coming from your needy cunt.
His hands kneaded at your ass, forcing you to keep up with the pace he had set. His glasses were missing from his face, now being set on the side table of his bedroom. “Can’t believe you were jealous over me.. Now y’know how I feel every time I see one of those stupid frat guys approach you.”
“You’re too deep!” You gasped, shutting your eyes close, feeling hot ropes of seed shooting into your womb. “I know,” Satoru hugged you close, fucking his cum back into you. “I know baby, but you can take it.”
Your clit brushed against his white pubes, tickling you in a way. “Y-you were jealous too..” You managed to ask. Your brows furrowed in pleasure, your stomach knotting in warning.
Satoru moved the two of you, going from having you ride him to putting you in a mating press. “Yeah, I was.” He had you seeing stars when his cock reached areas you deemed unreachable. Who would've guessed this geek knew how to give a great fuck? Must’ve been all the hentai he’s consumed over the years. He just recently began to imagine the pretty girls in slutty outfits as you, making it easier for him to jerk off late at night.
The bed wouldn't stop creaking. And you wouldn't stop moaning.
Satoru groaned, thrusting in meanly, entranced with the way your tits bounced. “Wanted to walk over and fuck- did you get tighter huh? I wanted to punch all of them.” He hunched over to kiss your lips, swallowing every sound.
You had grown tighter, because all he needed to do was deliver another drag of his cock to have you coming all over it. Satoru sighed, pecking you lightly now. “You’re mine.”
content: drabble, mentions of alcohol, sukuna’s an ass guy (rip readers ass), threats
Being with Sukuna isn’t for the weak. He’s not the most expressive person when it comes to his feelings, not even after an entire year of being in a relationship. He doesn’t do PDA, won’t partake in discussions when his friends start talking about the women they’re seeing, has a straight face the entire time whenever he does briefly talk about you.
But, everybody knows he loves you. Yourself included.
It’s in the way he keeps an eye on you in group settings, the way he’ll randomly come up to you with a new drink after noticing you’ve already finished the one you’ve been holding in your hand. Sukuna will be on his best behavior when you’re around, but will also lose his fucking mind if you are mildly inconvenienced.
“She asked for extra barbecue sauce 13 minutes ago,” he once snapped at a waiter. “Where the FUCK is it?” That was fucking embarrassing. In his defense, he refuses to start eating without you and you were waiting until they came back with it to touch your food.
At the end of the day, he simply wouldn’t have stayed this long if he didn’t hold any deeper feelings. They are there! He just has them hidden behind his god awful temper.
It’s not until he finds himself a little too drunk at a small party, when he randomly decides to be open and honest about how much he enjoys touching you.
And it starts with the resounding smack! of his palm as he cracked it against your ass cheek, followed by the yelp it pulled out of you, because it was the last thing you expected.
It reaches many people's ears, and when they turn to look towards the dining room table, they find you glaring at Sukuna. He looked fucking love struck with that glossy, faded look in his eyes as he sat back in his seat, rubbing the spot he decided to target while you were in the middle of looking for the lipgloss in your purse.
“That fucking hurt!” you hiss at him, swatting his hand away, only for it to go right back. “What is wrong with you?!”
“Looks fuckin’ nice in these shorts,” he says absentmindedly, smiling as he gave your ass a firm squeeze.
“Stop that,” you swat his hand away again.
“Quit acting like that hurt,” he scolds you, face softening as his hand goes back, again. “Love this ass—m’gonna fuck it one of these days.”
“Kuna!” you gasp, stunned by his sudden boldness when he’s nothing but reserved with you in public. “No you’re not—“
“Kiss me,” he cuts you off, his big hands now pulling you in by the waist.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No?!” You start to shove him away, which does nothing but make him laugh, especially when you look back at your friends who find themselves more than entertained by seeing this side of your relationship.
“The fuck are you looking at Shoko for? She’s not gonna save you from me—isn’t that right Shoko?” he raises his tone as he asks.
“Yeah, I’d rather not.”
“That’s what I thought.” He grins as he turns his attention back to you. “You see that, baby? She doesn’t give a fuck about you. Nobody does. Just me.”
And you laugh, because this is how he always teases you when you’re alone. “You sure it’s just not because everyone’s scared of you?”
“Good. You should be scared of me too, sweetheart,” he responds, as if it drives his point home. “Now give me my fuckin’ kiss.”
There’s a low groan that rumbles through his chest when you finally do kiss him, as if he’d been waiting for one the whole night. He grabs your jaw, slips his tongue into your mouth, drags it on for longer than it should’ve been.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he murmurs.
“Get a room, freaks,” Gojo yells out from the kitchen.
“Fuck off,” Sukuna easily cuts himself. “We’re going home so I can fu—”
“We never agreed to that?!”
notes: idek i haven’t written for sukuna in months and immediately wrote this when the idea popped up
