A/N; sum small I found in my drafts, gonna get to my love and deepspace stuff now hihi
1ST — MAMMON IS F*CKED! ( No pun intended)
The first incident, in all fairness, was inevitable.
Taking Lucifer's card for a reckless shopping spree with you was a death wish on its own, but ending up in bed together before the bags even touched the floor made it even worse.
Mammon's hands were everywhere, rough and greedy as he pinned you down on his slept-in bed, his lips meeting yours, tongue already eager to explore yours in a messy kiss. "'Fuck, sweets," he's breathing heavy already, grinding his painfully hard cock against your thigh through the annoying fabric of his jeans, "Ya drive me crazy."
You arch up into him, desperatly trying to grind your pantiy-clothed cunt onto him as your fingers tangle in his white hair, pulling him closer as he shoved your shirt up, mouth quick to latch onto your nipple, sucking hard enough to make you giggle in excitement.
Tanned and slender hands of his dip lower, fingers slipping right into those cute lace panties he just bought you to rub your puffy clit and run his fingers through your soaked folds.
"Gonna make ya scream my name, ya' hear?"
Biting a moan behind your swollen lips you eagerly spread your legs whider, messing up the sheets further in the process, urging him on to fuck you already until—
"MAMMONNN!"
The furious shout echoes from downstairs, rapid footsteps already rushing up the stairs, Lucifer set on making a bee-line towards poor mammons room.
"Fuck, I'm dead."
He rolls off your heaving body in a rush, quick to fix himself before planting an apologetic peck to your lips, "Gotta run for it, sweets, or he'll kill me for sure this time."
You pout, and that almost did him in. With a groan, he turned back, stealing one last, fat and wet smack to your lips.
"C'mon, don't look at me like that… To be continued, baby. Promise."
2ND — NO SELFCARE FOR MAMMON!
He's literally jumping in the air out of joy, a giddy jump in each step he takes.
No one's at the house right now.Aall six brothers out for once for some 'cooking workshop' solomon heavens help them managed to drag everyone but you two into.
Or so you thought.
"Fuckin' finally."
Steam curls against the glass of the shower as Mammon drags you into it, warm water cascading over your naked bodies. He presses you against the cold tiled wall, cock already sliding between your thighs, "Promised to fuck ya' good, didn't I? Gonna fuck ya senseless now, baby," he pants, slapping his cock against your clit for good meassure, once, twice—
"Mammon, stop it and fuck me already!"
"Y-yeah. Yer' right. Sorry sweets."
You grip his soaked hair, his tip catching at your weeping cunt while his fingers dig into the fat of your ass to hold you steady.
"Mammon pleaseee, can't wait any longer—"
"S-shit, hold on, don't want'cha to fall."
He's just about to be engulfed by the soft walls he calls home, tasting the delicious warmth at the tip of his tongue—
"Darlingggg! There you are!"
The bathroom door flies open so fast it slams into the wall, and Mammon lets out a sharp shriek, nearly jumping out of his skin as he's convinced, for half a second, that it's a ghost.
Just like that, he's slipping on the wet tiles and crashes down hard on his naked butt with a pained yelp right infront of you.
And all he can think about is whether you've just gotten the ick from him.
" I'm gonna have fun with out cutie tonight, sorry not sorry Mammon! facials, PJs, manicures allll the works!"
Asmodeus is thrilled, bursting in with a silk robe and mask in hand, giggling at the silhouettes that happend to be you two in the shower.
Mammon's quick on his feet, clenching his fist to keep himself from rubbing his sore bum infront of you. Instead, he pops a vein on his forehead, scrampling for the towels outside to wrap around you both as he steps out carefully, not to land on the ground again.
"Fuck you! You scared the living shit out of me, Asmo! Can't ya see we're busy?"
The brother just pouted sarcastically, already pulling at your arm to lead you to his room.
"I frankly don't give a shit. And no, no fucking for you tonight, Mammon."
The door slams with the same force as it opened before, leaving poor Mammon alone and blue balled behind, left sulking like a child as he drifts after you anyway, listening to your giggles and chatter right behind his door after you two left his room.
Nothing could possibly be worse than—
Mammon can't even properly finish his internal rant when he's suddenly on the ground again as his bedroom door swings open with full force. He falls defeated with a yelp, while Asmo steps right over him like he isn't even there, making a beeline for your robe.
"Silly girl forgot her robe— Mammon why the fuck are you naked right infront of your door? Anyone could walk in," With that, he scoffs and shoots Mammon a disgusted look before stepping over him again right into the hallway, "Gross."
Mammon squints up at him, fuming as he lies there sprawled like a bug on its back, towel barely hanging on.
"FUCK!"
3RD — MAMMON GETS TORMENTED WHILE... eating?
He's certain he's been cursed, maybe by Satan as some sort of cruel experiment with spells, he doesn't know.
All he knows is that he's got to have you. Right now.
Yes, right now in the janitor closet of RAD that he just sneaked in with you on lunchbreak.
Ohhhh, a lunch he's going to have.
"No more interruptions. Gonna eat this pretty pussy till ya' beg."
He's leaving a messy trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck, feeling the need to mark you with a hickey despite the tight scedule he's on.
Dropping to his knees on the dusty right after, he's hiking up your little skirt and burries his nose straight into your panties, taking a big fat whiff as he whines into you.
"W-we don't have long, Mammon. Please, wanna cum."
He spreads your legs further, humming in agreement, he nods along a little too eagerly, like one of those wobbly dashboard dolls, hooking a finger to push your panties to the side, tongue darting out to get a long and desperatly needed taste of your leaking pussy.
"Oh f-fuckk— m' gonna make you squirt all over m—"
BANG!
No way.
The door rattles violently as Beel's muffled voice rumbles from the other side, "Hey, is there any food in there? I smell something sweet."
There's no. fucking. way.
BANGBANGBANG!
Mammon spreads your legs further to headbutt the shelf you're leaned against in rage, your tighs almost locking around his head as you try to stifle your giggles.
"Beel, ya idiot! It's not—arghhh, fuck off!"
"Nuh uh. I know you're hiding something tasty in there."
Mammon rolls his eyes so hard, they almost get stuck at the back of his head.
Yeah, there is something tasty right infront of him, but because of Beel, he's stuck heading to the next lesson on an empty stomach.
Great.
FINAL STRAW — OPERATION: FUCK MY GIRLFRIEND RIGHT NOW!
He's had enough by now.
So of course, he's already scheming a plan. And there's only one desperate attempt left that he can come up with. Maybe you won't say yes, or maybe it'll be the fourth time (god forbid) his brothers manage to blue ball him all over again, but it's worth a shot.
The plan gets rolling the next morning. You both call in sick, waiting for everyone to wander off before you graze through the hallways on your tiptoes toward Mammon's room, the house suspiciously quiet.
There was practically a haze hanging around Mammon's room, his pent-up frustration radiating off him before you even get to step a careful foot inside. Immediately he scoops you up, but the bed seems too far.
"Fuck it," his grunt tickles against your neck as he throws you right onto the billiard table in the middle of his room, your palms slapping the green felt, "Gonna give it ta' ya right here."
With quick moves your torn panties fall to the ground, and you giggle at his struggle of freeing his cock from his boxers, whining in annoyance against your neck.
Fat, weeping cock springing free, he wastes no time to rub his tip through your awaiting folds once, twice—
"Been achin' to pound my sweet pussy."
With one pleased whine he bottoms out in one swift move, the table shaking on its legs as the force of his building thrusts rattle Mammon snarled, rubbing his tip through your dripping slit.
The billiard balls roll around as your hands scramble at the green felt, chest arching right up to his awaiting mouth as he suckles on your nipples as if he could suck milk out of them.
Well, maybe he'll have to make that reality.
"Missed you so much, Mammon— h-harder— fuckkk!"
"Don't gotta tell me twice, treasure."
The force of his thrusts punches the air from your lungs, each one driving you harder against the shaky table.
Your fingers knot into his white locs, tugging sharply as a low grunt rumbles from his chest.
Right then, he abandons your nipples only to drag his mouth up to cage your bottom lip instead, sucking it into a needy kiss.
"Yeahhhh, ya like that, human? My cock fillin' ya up real good?"
"Yesss! Love it soooo much— r-right there!"
Table screeching against the floor with every hard, smack, smack smack of his pelvis against your puffy clit, sweat slicking your skin as your mind starts to run overdrive.
"Gonna cum inside ya," he murmurs against your drooly lips, cock twitching at every sound spilling from your lips, "Mark ya' as my treasure."
Stuttering hips trying desperatly to keep up their pace, he can feel himself nearing his end, cum already sitting heavy at the base of his pistoning cock.
And with one quick look down towards the frothy mess your cunning pussy smears across his girth, he knows he's done for.
frat!kuna jealous of his baby brother yuji ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ
Being with Sukuna meant being with Yuji too.
And Yuji was… unfair.
He looked like someone had taken Sukuna, shrunk him down, rounded out all the sharp edges, and softened everything dangerous into something sweet. Same pink hair—just fluffier, falling into his eyes in ruffled little tufts. Same nose. Same eyes. Same scowl when he was grumpy.
Just smaller. Chubbier. Softer.
Where Sukuna was all sharp lines and muscle, Yuji was baby fat and warmth. Squishy cheeks you couldn’t resist poking. Tiny hands. Big expressive eyes that made your heart cave in instantly.
You loved him.
You’d kneel the second you saw him, arms wide open.
“Hi, Yuu,” you’d coo, dragging his name out.
He’d light up immediately, toddling toward you with his teddy bear dragging behind him. “y/n!” he’d giggle, crashing straight into you.
Sukuna watched it happen every time with deep, simmering irritation.
Because you did it on purpose.
You'd squeeze Yuji tightly, pressing kisses to his cheeks and whining loudly about how cute he was. Occasionally, you would even glance over Yuji's head to see Sukuna's jaw tighten.
“Why is he so cute?” you’d say dramatically. “It’s unfair.”
Sukuna scoffed. “You’re annoying.”
But later—
later, when Yuji was tucked away in his room and Sukuna finally had you-
That’s when the jealouusy really showed.
You were straddling him on the couch, his hands locked tight on your hips, thumbs digging in like he didn’t trust you not to disappear. His mouth was on yours, rougher than usual, hungry. Like he was reclaiming something.
His kisses were deep, insistent, breathing heavy against your lips.
“Mine,” he muttered once, barely audible.
“Possessive muc-” you'd start, only to be cut off by him pressing even closer, muffling your teasing.
You rocked against him slowly, deliberately, feeling the way his grip tightened instantly and the bulge in his jeans grow harder. He groaned low in his throat, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough.
He was already gone.
Then, a small whimper echoed from down the hall.
Sukuna froze for a split second. Then he kissed you harder.
He refused to pull away, mouth pressing into yours like if he kept going, the sound wouldn’t be real. He chased your lips when you tried to breathe, clearly annoyed.
Another sound followed. Softer...Sadder.
“…uh…” You pulled back, hand flat on his chest. “Sukuna.”
“No,” he growled quietly, trying to pull you back down. “Ignore it.”
“Yuji’s crying.”
He clicked his tongue. “He’s fine.”
Another sniffle. Then—
“y/n..?”
That did it. You slid off his lap instantly. Sukuna let his head fall back with a long, frustrated groan. “You’re kidding,” he start, fists balling against his sides.
You were already walking away. When you opened Yuji’s door, your heart melted all over again.
He was sitting up in bed, hair messy and sticking out everywhere. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glossy with tears, teddy bear clutched tightly to his chest.
The second he saw you, he reached out. “I had a nightmware,” he whimpered, words slurred and messy. “It was scawwy…”
“Oh no,” you whispered, immediately lifting him into your arms. “Come here, baby.”
He curled into you instantly, tiny hands gripping your shirt. He wiped his tears straight into your sleeve, hiccupping softly.
You rocked him gently, pressing your cheek to his hair. Wiping the fallen tears. “You’re safe,” you cooed. “I’ve got you.”
Sukuna appeared in the doorway moments later, arms crossed, irritation written all over his face. He looked between you and Yuji and scowled.
“idiot, go back to sleep,” he said flatly. “It was just a dream.”
Yuji whimpered louder, face pressing harder into your chest. “Ryomen,” you warned.
“He does this every time,” Sukuna muttered, reaching for your wrist. “You’re enabling him.”
“He’s three,” you hissed quietly.
“Tell him to stop.”
You stared at him. “He’s literally a baby.”
Sukuna groaned, dragging a hand down his face, clearly pissed—but he let go. He stood there watching as you rubbed Yuji’s back, whispering softly until his breathing slowed.
Yuji sniffed one last time, then peeked up at you with watery eyes. “Stay…?” he asked quietly. “plwease.”
Your chest tightened. “Okay, but you promise to go back to sleep?” He nodded immediately, cuddling closer before asking “kuna,” to stay too.
Sukuna groaned even louder. “fuck no- go to sleep,” he started, but you cut him off with a loud cough, hoping Yuji wouldn’t hear his vulgar words. “Sukuna, c'mere,” you pouted, gesturing for him to join you in the tight space beside you on the tiny twin bed. Reluctantly, Sukuna complied.
Both of you stayed until Yuji fully drifted off to sleep, his little face relaxed and his teddy bear tucked under his chin. He looked incredibly peaceful. Your fingers were still loosely intertwined with his, while his tiny nails dug into Sukuna's wrists whenever he tried to move.
When you finally slipped out and closed the door—
Sukuna grabbed you.
He lifted you effortlessly, tossing you over his shoulder like nothing. You yelped, then laughed, kicking lightly.
“Sukuna!”
“You’re evil,” he muttered, carrying you straight back to the couch.
He set you down and immediately crowded your space, hands firm on your thighs, eyes dark and jealous.
“You spoil him,” he said low.
“You’re jealous,” you teased.
“Of him?” he scoffed. “Tch.”
But he leaned in again, kissing you like he’d been waiting, frustration pouring into it. Slower this time. Heavier. Possessive.
“You disappear every time he cries,” he murmured against your mouth.
“He needs me.”
“So do I,” he muttered.
You smiled, brushing your nose against his. “You’re bigger. You can handle it.”
He huffed, arms wrapping around you tightly, pulling you flush against him.
“…Still annoying,” he said.
But he didn’t let go.
This is so rushed, but I hope you guys like it thank u sm for the support on my last post💗🥹 #softkunasupremacy + babyyuji is so cute ohmygawd + this is barely proofread, so mb for any mistakes<3
a/n not proofread im sorry i wrote this at night and there will be chapter 2. probably
“i promise, they serve the best matcha on campus!” rae whispers as you gather your things after the most boring lecture ever. honestly, you can never say no to your best friend, especially when it comes to spending money. and matcha.
so you just nod and slowly walk after rae, who’s very excited. she loves trying new things and visiting new places, that’s why she’s the head writer of your university’s newspaper. she always knows who, where and when — it was rae’s superpower.
“look, isn’t this place cute?” she asks as soon as you see a small white building located next to east wing. panoramic windows revealed that there was a queue inside. it quickly ruins your mood but rae was already dragging you in.
“maybe we should come later?” you try to make a point but she’s too focused on the menu on the TV over barista’s counter. “the queue is moving pretty quick!” says a girl in front of you which makes you sigh. you thank her and think what do you want to order but zone out because you realise you needed to redo your essay for today. shit.
“hello? earth to the prettiest girl i’ve ever saw?” smiles the barista, staring in your eyes. you only come out of your head after rae nudges you. “sorry?” you say, your gaze trailing all over his face. he was pretty. ethereally so. blue eyes, really really light, reminding you of sky, pale face and his hair? rae would probably kill for this colour couple of years ago.
“haha i said- hi, what’s your order? i usually remember our regulars but your face is new!”
“oh. um, i’d like a matcha. on a coconut milk.” you tell him, opening your purse to get your card. he smiles and nods, “alrighty! your first drink’s on me!”
“what? no, i’ll pay—“
“no, that’s our policy! don’t tell anyone, though.” he whispers with a grin and winks.
you turn to rae, thinking maybe you’re hallucinating or something. but rae is nowhere in sight. so you turn back to him, read his name on a badge and tilt your head. “satoru.”
“yes?” he is not done smiling.
“is this some kind of a prank? scam? i know you guys opened recently and i really want to support small businesses—“
“we’re not a small business, relax. it’s fine. just come next time!”
“so this is some a marketing strategy? to make people feel guilty, so they come again to spend money?”
“…i never felt about it that way, thank you. i’ll tell my da- boss! are you a marketing major?”
“yeah. pr and marketing.” you look away and realise you’ve been holding the queue. “oh sorry- i’ll just… wait for my drink then.”
satoru quickly starts getting next orders and while you wait for yours, you contemplate giving him a tip. he probably got you free drink out of his paycheck, right? so you find cash in your purse and confidently walk to the counter again only to realise there is no tip jar.
the queue is almost gone so satoru looks up. “something wrong?”
“no, but do you guys have a tip jar?”
his smile gets even bigger. “no, our boss pays enough.”
“okay.” you feel stupid as you walk to the counter with drinks.
“girl, finally! do you even check your phone?” exclaims rae when you step to the counter. “i went to the bathroom, i just felt like, you know, my period started! thank god it didn’t, though. i’m going to choso’s tonight! anyways, did you order?”
“yeah. did you?” you ask, your eyes trailing over satoru’s back. rae nods and you ask again, “their policy is so weird. like, what do you mean, first drink is on the house? it must be some trick.”
“wait, what policy? i paid for mine. you didn’t?”
that’s when satoru announces your drink. “matcha on coconut milk for the cutie by the window!”
you turn red. “is he for real?” you hiss as rae laughs. you get your drink and in a second he delivers rae’s, too. this time without dramatic follow-up. he smiles and asks, “how’s the matcha?”
you try it. it’s absolutely delicious. top one, for sure. matcha felt rich and refreshing, great quality and a little sweet aftertaste.
but you couldn’t make him even more cocky, so you went with subtle ‘it’s good.’
“good? oh my god, is it awful? i’ll redo it—“
“no, this is okay, i like it!” you say too quickly. satoru grins. “knew it was great.”
you realise rae has been listening to your conversation. when the silence follows, she smiles. “okay! are you guys done with the flirting yet?”
“we weren’t—“
“can i continue?”
you stare at satoru. he smiles and wants to add something when other barista, tired girl with deep eye bags nudges him, “gojo, stop being weird. is he harassing you?”
“‘m not!”
“…is he?” she doesn’t even look at him, just you. you shake your head even though it could be harassing if you think about it. the girl nods. “alright. go make drinks, idiot. come again, bye!” she just leaves and goes to take new orders while satoru acts like a kicked puppy as he makes coffee.
you leave the coffee shop in strange feelings. what was that?
a/n: this is the part 2 to You Still Up? :) enjoy :)
✩✶✩❇✩✶✩
“No.” He snaps, his voice cracking. “It’s okay… I understand.”
“I’m sorry…”
“No… don’t do that. Please, a-anything but that. I want to date you, y/n. Don’t m-make this harder.”
Your eyes search his face, hoping that for some reason he was being dumb, that his feelings are true. It scares you. The food in your stomach turning into acid as you stare at the blond who refuses to look at you.
“I’m going to go.” You whisper.
“Yeah, that’s for the best.” He snaps, his eyes hardening over.
You leave without a word, and as soon as you were out, Kaminari broke down. His sobs wrecking in his chest as you left him.
You stood outside his door, your throat thick with emotions as you wanted to go back inside. Your pride keeping you from walking back in as you hear his cries. You did this after all.
another day, another attempt for sukuna to try and win you over despite barely knowing you.
the second time took place at a party most likely held by his frat brothers, and you had been invited by gojo. you were pretty close to him but anyway, you had your friend by your side anyway.
you entered the house, music & lights already damaging your ears and eyes. the whole house smelled of cheap, heavy cologne and a hot spring night.
sukuna had spotted you, gojo nudging him.
“sukuna, she’s here.”
—
midway through the time of you being at the party, sukuna went towards you to try his luck once again.
he cleared his throat, and your friend nudged you to make you turn and see sukuna. when you turned around, all he saw was your flushed cheeks, bloodshot and glossy eyes. were you drunk? he stood there for a moment, memorized.
“oh, hi!..” he snapped out of his trance after you spoke up, looking a bit confused.
“sukuna, right?” you tilted your head, and he was a goner. “uh, yeah.”
it was a bit awkward, even more after your friend’s hand lingered on your shoulder before leaving the two of you alone.
“I was wondering if ya wanted to you know, hang out with me and the rest of the frat boys?” he stuttered a bit, already mentally cringing. he wasn’t nervous. ever.
you looked over his shoulder, noticing gojo making a heart around you and sukuna. it got you a bit irritated at the thought of gojo shipping you two, so you rudely declined sukuna.
“sorry, but I don’t hang around players. who have suspicions of an std, or syphilis. same thing.” you walked away, leaving sukuna standing there once again.
okay, he definitely wasn’t going to give up. especially when you were hard to get. just made this mission of his even better.
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!!
In which they think you want to break up! ⊹ ࣪ ˖
incl: 7 demon brothers + thirteen & barbatos
a/n: My beautiful intelligent Barbatos could never get the wrong idea ✌️ first post in MONTHS yikes sorry guys take this as a peace offering…😓 I will try to post atleast once a week again now as I finally have some motivation!! again I’m very sorry for the complete lack of posts, I appreciate you all!! <33
what it’s like to be in a secret relationship with satoru. mdni.
you never intended to keep your romantic relationship with satoru a secret from the people you know, especially to your close friends.
breaking the news to them had obviously crossed your mind already. but things happened: shoko and utahime moved to a different city right after their engagement, suguru became extremely busy managing his newly opened cafe downtown, sukuna is on a tournament for professional boxing, and yuki seems to be touring the world (she’s always on vacation!).
planning hangouts with the entire friend group in attendance became elusive. everyone’s schedule just cannot seem to align; one or two people are always unavailable due to schedules set weeks prior.
before you knew it, months had passed. then months turned into a year.
of course, you still have regular communication with one another. you would sometimes come and watch sukuna’s boxing fights in your spare time then drink the night away afterward at his place with other mutual friends. satoru would be there as well. and when it isn’t so busy during the day, suguru would temporarily entrust the cafe to his staffs to meet the both of you over lunch.
aside from that, it has also been a part of your weekly routine to have a video call with the girls to gossip and talk about any happenings from your lives. yes, you could’ve mentioned it during one of the calls, but it just didn’t feel the right way to do so.
what you and satoru have is not just a fling nor a friends-with-benefits setup. thus, announcing it in person felt imperative. after all, you both share the same close friends so this affects the dynamics of your circle.
though you’d be lying if you say you don’t enjoy the secrecy of your relationship—disappearing from sukuna’s house parties to have a sloppy make out session with satoru in the bathroom, or him sneaking a kiss on your cheek whenever you are on the phone with the girls; he would always wait patiently next to you on his couch, and once your face is slightly out of view from the screen… smooch!
caught off guard, you would turn your camera off and glare at him, but the moron had already run off with a big smile on his face, followed by silent giggles (since your mic is still on) like he had just successfully pulled off a high-risk task.
yes, you like the intimacy of a secret relationship. how you and satoru share the same truth only you can touch. there is a certain thrill that could never be experienced in an ordinary relationship, and you found it to be quite addicting.
one time, suguru pointed out how you and satoru would often arrive at the meet up place together. always coming from the same direction at the same time, he said. you just shrugged off and feigned innocence by calling it a mere coincidence.
later on while enjoying the meal, satoru sneakily moved his hand under the table to caress your thigh underneath the dress, as if teasing you for how you spouted a white lie off your mouth so naturally. he drew slow and lazy circles over your soft skin as he simultaneously talked to suguru in front.
satoru did it in such a casual manner, not even sparing you a look, and thus, he was oblivious about the redness on your cheeks and the brewing desire in your core. you pressed his fingers, a signal for him to stop, but all you got from your boyfriend was a quick glance and a mocking smirk.
soon after, you excused yourself to go to the restroom; he then followed the lead saying, he just needs to make a phone call.
and there in the cramped restroom cubicle, satoru pulled his slacks and boxers down, clung your thigh over his arm, and pulled your underwear to the side. the way he did it was so abrupt and impatient you swore you heard a thread snap from your lace thong.
he fucked you with much eagerness and gentle frustration; you can tell that he, too, was craving for your body just as you were craving for his—as if the pretense that afternoon had been too unbearable and all he wanted was to be all over his girlfriend.
you held onto satoru’s shoulders for support, gave his neck wet kisses as he pulled his massive cock in and out of you. the tissue dispenser mounted on the partition next to you rattled from how hard he was thrusting into your wet and tight pussy. squelching sounds and your breathy moans fused with the distant indiscernible chatter from customers filled up the space.
sure, the thrill of it was fun and exciting. but enough time has gone by. and both of you are growing tired of treading the line between secrecy and passion. satoru wants to share his love for you to other people. he craves of being able to hold your hand in the streets—when you’re walking alongside each other—without the fear that a mutual friend might see. he wants to take you out on a date at his favorite fancy restaurants, not just to the hole-in-the-wall cafes. the takeouts at his place were also just as fun because it’s always followed by rough sex on his bed. but. but. satoru yearns for more. he wants to flaunt you, his oh so lovely girlfriend.
you have this pure and honest love resting on the palm of your hands—still growing and vulnerable—and a voice inside your head wants you to keep it hidden. it whispers in your ear telling you to just leave things as they are; no one can ruin something they have no knowledge about. but the better part of you knows that a relationship shadowed by limitations would never prosper and last. what you feel for satoru doesn’t have to be loud—it only has to be free.
and so you’ve made up your mind.
shoko and utahime’s wedding will be held today and it’s your chance. of course you don’t want to steal the thunder from the soon-to-be newlyweds, so you plan to do it tomorrow, during the post-wedding lunch with the close friends. everyone—shoko, utahime, yuki, suguru, and sukuna—will be there and you refuse to let this opportunity pass.
the first thing you notice as you enter the bride suite is the makeup lined up on the vanity tables—liquid foundations in different shades, eyeshadow palettes from multiple brands, and lipsticks in every possible shade imaginable. and there–sitting in one of the vanity chairs—is your best friend utahime. you read the word written on the back of her chair—in white font and a beautiful cursive it says ‘bride’. you see her smile from the mirror reflection.
you ask if she’s nervous. utahime just shakes her head; she says she’s never been more sure about anything ever in her life.
you hate to admit it but you are a sucker for weddings. the abundance of love radiating from everybody never fails to make you emotional. friends and families. friends turned into families. celebrating the union between two people. the wedding vows. the lengthy speeches during the reception. they collectively pull the lever to your fountain of tears.
when it is your turn to have your makeup done, you sit at one of the unoccupied vanity chairs. the future newlyweds went all out and hired four hair and makeup artists so the preparation is more efficient.
minutes later, as the artist is applying eyeshadow on your lids, you hear a familiar ringtone.
your ringtone.
yuki, whose makeup is already finished, grabs your phone from a nearby couch and looks at the screen. “someone is calling you- who is this ‘my love’?” she asks with an inquisitive tone.
shit. shit. shit.
why is satoru calling you? and now when you are currently glued to the vanity chair, defenseless against the possible scrutiny from your girl friends. your eyes remain closed as the artist continues on her work; you can’t tell where yuki is standing.
grabbing the phone from her hand is impossible. you’re fucked. no. maybe you can reason your way around it. before your brain could even make up a weak excuse, yuki had already answered the call and set your phone on speaker.
you feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you hear the voice of your satoru. “baby, you forgot your heels in the car. should i bring it to you?” you held your breath. you feel your insides getting twisted. it’s as if your brain has short-circuited; words, excuses, start to hover around your head like a murder of crows—cawing, awaiting for a release that never came.
and just like that, the secret is out. getting busted out about your year-long relationship with satoru through an unsuspecting phone call wasn’t the plan, but here goes nothing.
only the clank of makeup brushes can be heard as the artists remain impassive on what is happening. you bite your bottom lip. there is no way in hell that your friends would not recognize his voice.
the moment they connect the dot and register it in their head—the contact name and the man in the other line—collective gasps echo from different parts of the room.
“what the fuck, gojo? is that you?” yuki’s high pitched voice almost makes you wince.
“uhh. . . haha. . .” he clears his throat. “no, who is gojo satoru?”
“jackass! she didn’t even say satoru,” utahime interjects.
“wait, t-the signal here is bad,” you hear indistinct shuffling noises in satoru’s background, “h-hello? can you hear me? he-”
and the call ends.
you sense the piercing glares from your friends, “you have got some explaining to do,” said utahime.
satoru loves listening to you, especially when your lips are against his. . .
the room is quiet enough that every little sound feels louder than it should— the soft rustle of blankets, and the tiny laugh that escapes you when satoru steals another kiss before you even finish your sentence.
“you know,” you mumble against his lips. “you should really listen to me right now.”
“i’m listening,” he replies, barely pulling away. his lips brush yours with every word. “you said i’m handsome.”
“i definitely didn’t.”
“no? must’ve imagined it.”
you roll your eyes, though he can’t really see it from how close you are. your noses bump together, and he smiles before giving you another slow, lazy kiss.
“you interrupted me again,” you say.
“m’sorry.. keep talking, sweetheart.”
another kiss.
“i’m trying to tell you,” you whisper, your lips still resting against his. “that we need groceries.”
“we’ll figure something out,” he hums thoughtfully, his breath warm against your face.
“i doubt it, you big back.”
“you’re so mean to me.”
you laugh, the sound breaking into another kiss because satoru seems physically incapable of letting more than a few seconds pass without stealing one.
“kissing me until i forget what i was saying?”
“…is it working?” he muses.
you pause. “…maybe.”
“i know you‘re enjoying yourself,” he says softly, brushing his lips over yours again. “you haven‘t pulled away yet.”
“seems like i’ve made questionable life choices.”
he gasps dramatically, though his smile gives him away.
“oh? dating me is questionable?”
“sometimes.”
another kiss.
“when you leave your socks everywhere.”
mwah.
“when you eat all my snacks.”
mwah.
“when you—”
he kisses you longer that time, lingering just enough that you forget where your complaint is going.
“…see?” he murmurs.
“you are so annoying.”
“but?”
“but…” you smile. “you’re very cute.”
his grin is immediate, and he kisses the corner of your mouth
“what do you want for dinner?” you ask.
“hmm…” he pretends to think hard, his forehead resting against yours. “you.”
“oh my god,” you groan. “you’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”
“maybe.” he grins into the next kiss.
“you should be embarrassed.”
“can’t hear your mean remarks when you’re this close.”
your lips meet in soft, absent-minded kisses between tiny conversations about nothing at all. whether the laundry is finished, whether the weather looks nice tomorrow, or how his teaching is going.
“toru—” kiss. “—how am I supposed to—” another kiss. “—focus?”
“why’d you need to?” his smile softens into something quieter, gentler than his usual teasing grin.
nerd!gojo turned frat!gojo encounters his high school sweetheart at his party 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 pt. 2
gojo satoru was the golden boy of jujutsu university.
president of the biggest frat on campus, the most gorgeous face and blue orbs you could set your eye on, packing muscles, and a height that just matches perfectly. plus, his parties were the best.
everyone wanted satoru, to say the least.
people like to call him a "playboy", or a "heavyweight", and he loves to drown his ego in those compliments and rumors.
cause in contrast to gojo satoru in high school, his reputation was way better than he could ever expect.
almost half his face covered in his thick glasses, constantly wearing the same hoodies and sweaters, hair unkempt and messy, nose buried in books half of the time— it was a total 360!
but, there was one thing satoru missed the most from his high school days... and that was you.
the only girl he kept longer than 6 months. hell, you two even lasted three years, sophomore till senior. you were his first love, first girlfriend, first kiss, first fuck, first everything. god, if only you didn't pick a college so far away.
but satoru thinks it's for the best. if you were still with him, he would know he'd still stay as that nerdy boy that everyone hated. so, he does his best to forget about you. who needs a girlfriend when he can have fun without a label?
... is what he thought until he saw you again.
he hasn't felt lovestruck in a long while. everything went silent around him. everything was going in slow motion. lights probed around the house slowly, music low-pitched, laughter on reverb. and funnily, there was a spotlight on you.
heart eyes bore into you from across the room, but you haven't noticed yet. you were talking to your friend, utahime who studied at the sister school of your high school, who brought you here.
"oh, i totally forgot to tell you. remember gojo?" she asks, taking a sip from her red cup.
your heart drops slightly at the mention of him. you haven't heard of satoru since he blocked you unexpectedly. you heard about his 'glow up' but for your mental health, you couldn't be bothered to dig deeper into it. but you digress, forcing a smile. "yeah, of course i do. why would i forget?" you laugh, crossing your arms.
"he goes to jujutsu university too, right? same as you..." you awkwardly say, drinking the beer in your hand.
utahime nods, "yeah, he's the host of this party." she bluntly spoke. and before you knew it, you spat out your drink.
"girl, what the hell?!" utahime exclaims, stepping back. you wipe your mouth, eyes wide, "i am so sorry— i'm going to get tissues,"
but before you could act, someone stood right beside you, kitchen towels in hand. "you alright?" he talks directly to utahime, a flirty grin evident in his voice, and he rips some tissue to help her wipe her shirt.
if physically possible, your eyes widen even more. you find yourself speechless.
"i'm fine— and i don't need your help dude," she says, grabbing the tissues and wiping her shirt. utahime then sighs, "i'm going to the bathroom, excuse me." she clicks her tongue. "i'm so so sorry, iori," you mumble, "it's fine, i'm sure you were shocked..." your friend says before walking away, eyes darting between the two of you.
you force yourself to keep an eye on your friend, crossing your arms once more as you attempt to save yourself from humiliation. you needed to avoid this man at all costs.
gojo fucking satoru. nerd or not, you're not looking forward to seeing him.
but no, of course not. as talkative as satoru is (which hasn't changed since high school), he just had to say something!
clearing his throat, "well... long time no see." he speaks, voice unusually deep. gosh, is he trying to be cool?
you take a deep breath to compose yourself before you turn— and lo and behold, the 6'3 alien-looking dude is in front of you. "hey," you mutter, eyes darting left and right.
"what brings you here?" he asks awkwardly, and his demeanor suggests the nerd in him resurfaced after years. "utahime invited me," you answer quickly, suddenly finding that lamp beside the couch interesting, squinting your eyes.
"i see..." satoru mutters, and you finally look at him properly for the first time tonight. god, he looked so different yet as breathtaking as you remember.
no more fat glasses or bangs that framed his face perfectly— but replaced with a slicked back look with a cap worn backwards that looked like a cherry on top. gojo satoru always had muscles but never showed them to anyone but you. yet now, he's bigger, beefier, you might say— and he's flaunting it like a 5-course meal.
"you here for long?" he then asks, snapping you out of your thoughts and nonchalantly putting his hands in his pockets. you clear your throat, trying to find the words to say without exposing too much information. "i'm on vacation," you respond, looking down. satoru just bites his lip nervously.
a beat of awkward silence lingers in the air, seemingly both of you at a loss for words. but satoru speaks up: "hey... if ever you're free after all of this, would you consider going out—" however, he gets cut off by a bunch of girls screaming his name, asking for him to join them in the pool.
the white-haired man turns around, flashing them a wide smile. "i'll be right there gorgeous," and he waves.
but when he swerves to talk to you again, you were nowhere to be found. the fratboy sighs. "god, someone just fuck me in the ass already," he mutters to himself, scratching the back of his head before darting off to look for you.
you were already heading out of the house, regretting your decision to even come here in the first place. you should've flipped him off the moment he approached you and went home. that would've saved you from seeing that horrendous sight of your man flirting with some girls who can't even get a 2.5 gpa.
you briskly walk over to the sidewalk, taking a deep breath as the cool night air hit your drunk ass.
wait. but he isn't even your man? what right do you have to get jealous?
taking a few steps forward, your heels click against the pavement. until you abruptly stop, sighing loudly before screaming bloody murder in total embarrassment. you grip your bag, before crouching in humiliation, eyes shut as you force yourself to forget about everything that just happened.
what were you even thinking— why and how would you ever get the chance to get back with the new and improved gojo satoru?
he's the type of guy who plays beer pong and kisses people for fun during truth or dare games now. he's no longer that shy, anti-party, anti-alcohol, study-prioritizing nerd you've known since grade 8. he does billiards with a girl around his arm feeding him his drink— no, he doesn't play chess and beg you to watch his tournaments or go on a chess park date. you bet he doesn't even like digimon anymore! he probably sold all his limited edition cards and used the money for his fraternity's party funds.
but most of all, he's not yours anymore. and that really fucking stung.
messing up your hair with another scream, you find yourself wasted on countless "what ifs" that contradict "he blocked me first, it's not worth it" thoughts. you let out a low sob, tired and yearning to go home.
"i'm so stupid," you mutter to yourself, but you're met with a response. "no, i am." a deep voice rumbles from behind you.
your brain freezes for a second, before you're darting back up again, giving yourself whiplash as you face your one and only ex-boyfriend once again.
"did you freaking follow me out?" you exclaim, furrowing your eyebrows as you took a few steps away from him.
"y-yeah, but not in a creepy way— i just wanted to talk to you," he says, rubbing the bicep pressed tightly against his compression shirt nervously.
"i'm not interested." you say, straightforward. "not anymore," you then mumble, sighing under your breath as you look away from him.
"i'm not here to get you back," he softly speaks, "well, maybe, if you'd let me. but i was just really happy to see you again." he rocks himself on his heels, shoving his hands in his pockets again.
you hug yourself to go against that random coldness that swifts through you. maybe it's because of your adrenaline. "you've got tons of other girls lined up, just leave me alone." you scoff. "plus, you're the one who blocked me in the first place, didn't you?"
he pouts. cute, but no.
"i know that," he sighs, rubbing his nape, "and i'm sorry, okay? i fucked up a lot during our breakup period even though we could've stayed friends." he looks down, clearly guilty. but you won't buy it. you force yourself not to.
"at least you're self-aware." you mutter bitterly.
"look, i get it if you want to go— if you don't want to talk to me. i'm sure it's a shock to see me, especially like... this." your ex explains, adjusting his cap habitually.
"point is?" you raise an eyebrow.
he bites his lip apprehensively, hands on his hips as he gathered the courage to ask: "i want to make it up to you. maybe when you're feeling better too." he says, taking a few steps forward.
you freeze. you should seriously move. run a marathon for a cause— cause being getting away from gojo satoru.
"so... would it hurt so much to rekindle? be friends?" he asks, looking at you with those overbearing blue eyes, like his life depended on it.
friends? yeah, right. but you think about it.
"fine." you mutter.
yo. that's not how it was supposed to go?
but your heart is stubborn. and your heart won't let go of you stupid nerd turned fratboy ex. it's fucking stupid.
so there you have it. you're friends with gojo satoru again. unbelievable. three weeks in with talking to him again, you now find yourself laying on your bed, giggling at one of his corny ass jokes, staring at your phone as you waited for those three dots to become a message.
but while waiting for his response, your good friend utahime gives you a call. sitting up, you answer. "hello?"
her end starts with a loud sigh. "warning before i speak, just know i'll be blunt like last time. god, i hate men!" she exclaims, and you show concern.
"iori what happened?" you ask, and she replies. "you've been betted on, that's what happened!" your heart drops.
"i got the info from shoko, remember her? it's crazy! i swear that gojo guy is such an asshole thank god i went to a different campus during high school, he's the most disrespectful nuisance i've ever met—" utahime rambles, but you cut her off, staring blankly at the notification you got from satoru.
toru g: i'm gonna visit your dorm, surprise! ( ˙꒳˙ ) i'm otw,,, don't yell at me for coming unexpectedly pls. ♡♡♡
"hey... iori? i'll call you back, okay? tell me everything later." you say into the phone before ending the call.
just then, you hear your doorbell ring. just perfect.
you walk to the door in anger, steps heavy as you swing it open.
"SURPRISE!" slap!
yeah, fuck fratboy gojo satoru.
𐙚────ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹
a/n: hi guys! hope u liked this one. took me a few days to write but finally, it's out!
thank u so so much for reading. please do consider reblogging and giving me a follow cuties <3 reqs are open anytime too! thanks again :P
⡴ gym teacher!sukuna has an embarrassingly known crush on school nurse!reader
lowkey wanna turn this into a full oneshot
if he heard one more twelve year old’s squeaky voice whispering to one another, saying he’s ‘got a crush on the school nurse’ he swears he’s gonna write up the whole grade.
god, it’s even worse when one of the eighth grade girls come up to him when he’s on lunch duty.
“mr., mr. ! did you know the nurse mentioned she likes tall guys when i went into her room for a tylenol !”
“what does that have to do with me ?” he grumbles, scrunching his face while the girl and her friend stare up at him.
“well everyone knows you like like her—”
“GO SIT DOWN!”
he swears the whole lunchroom conveniently goes quiet when he yells that as the girls squirm away back to their tables and start whispering around gossip.
and even worse than the girls that draw hearts around you and sukuna’s staff photos next to eachother in the main office, he’s got gojo. gojo, who ships you two and nags him like worse-than a middle school girl. gojo, who shoves you two together for any school event.
“what game do you have planned for tomorrow?” you ask, leaning over to whisper to sukuna as eighth grade awards are called for each subject, timing claps inbetween your words while names are called. you smirk, “how many kids am i gonna have sent my way next time?”
“just dodgeball.” he leans down to whisper flatly against your ear, still staring down a kid giggling in the seating rows of the auditorium and effectively getting him to stop with his gaze.
“your version of dodgeball is basically to the death, i might have to have paramedics in my room on standby.” you joke, turning to smile at him so sweetly. in his mind, this counts as him making you laugh and therefore counts as a win.
he chuckles lightly, just a quick huff of his chest, but essentially the hardest he can laugh if he’s not looking at a kid getting tackled in class. “these kids will toughen up eventually, i am just teaching them to do it early.”
“were you a weak kid that needed to toughen up? i can really only picture you as a big scary dude.”
“i was actually a severely malnourished child due to my mothers impoverished state during her pregnancy.“ he says, truly not realizing how solemn he sounds in his voice even as he means it as a light hearted jest.
you blink at him, face contorted in confusion and awkwardness. he wants to hit himself.
the only thing that saves him from not saying anything stupid again is the end of the assembly, marked by gojo yelling into a megaphone and for kids to round up by homeroom.
the following week he’s still embarrassed to even look you in the eyes. he’s mulling over how stupid he must’ve looked infront of you while sifting through the equipment closet.
he hears steps echo throughout the currently empty gym before he yells out.
“gojo i’m not covering your lunch break, fuck off—” he turns around to not see the usual suspect he finds during his free period. instead, he sees you, leaning against the door in scrubs and white coat clinging to your body. he stills in his motion.
you speak before he can (if he can speak at all in his embarrassed state).
“i understand the confusion, he bothers me all the time too.” you dismiss, smiling at him with your glossed lips he probably thinks about hourly. waitwaitwait, gojo talks to you all the time ? he’s going to kill that lanky fuck. “just wanted to drop these off for yuri in your next period.” you jostle around a pill bottle in your hand, “she can get fainty on gym days so give these to her just in case to help prevent that.” he knows it’s your job and all, but your concern is honestly kinda cute.
“uhh yeah i’ll be sure to.” he nods, right as you drop the bottle on top of a stack of rubber cones by the door before you walk out. and he would just like it to be known he definitely didn’t stare at your ass as you left.
and he typically makes it easier for himself to deny how down bad he is to you, but now, after you spent a week of saved up sick days out last week, he’s kind of craving your voice. so who can blame him when he calls his 6th grade nephew into his office while he’s supposed to be at lunch.
“look, kid. i’m going to need you to do something, and i’m gonna need you to not be annoying about it, kay?”
yuji furrows his brows, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.
“you,” he gestures to his nephew, “are going to act like you collapsed and let me bring you up to the school nurse. you are then going to be quiet when i talk to her.”
“is it cause you have a crush on her—”
sukuna tenses before cutting him off.
“do a good job acting and i will consider buying you that human earthworm blu-ray. do you hear me, brat?”
yuji’s eyes light up at the mention of the dvd.
“is this impression good enough then?” yuji leans and clutches at his side in fake fatigue while moaning dramatically for help, then immediately straightens up with a smile like he’s waiting for a rating. sukuna shakes his head and genuinely wonders how he’s related to this—in sukuna’s words— pea brained doofus.
he dials your number on his offices phone, sitting tense in his chair while he shh’s yuji. yuji nods and salutes as sukuna continues to roll his eyes.
yuji could’ve sworn he saw him smile when you pick up. he continues to watch sukuna fiddle with the curled wire of the phone as he explains yuji’s apparently dire situation. he can just barely hear the muffled sound of you saying ‘just bring him up and i’ll check him out.” over the speaker of the phone before sukuna hangs up and fixes his hair.
sukuna walks out the door and desperately tries to ignore yuji’s terrible post fainting impression behind him as his nephew follows his step to your room.
just before they step into your room he whispers to yuji as he leans over.
“if you can bring up me being single i’ll take you out for ice cream, brat.”
toxic!satosugu but they're just as toxic to eachother as they are to you-their reluctant friend who has to deal with their constant divorces.
these bitches do not know how to FUNCTION within a relationship. they're constantly fighting and arguing. eventually the tipping point comes and they have a very messy break up (that only lasts a week at most).
one way or another, one of them ends up on your door.
when it's satoru, he'd still be crying, his porcelain skin red and puffy. there'd be a tearful 'we broke up' before he's collapsing onto your shoulder.
when it's suguru, he wouldn't be actively crying, but it's clear he was during the drive. He’d sink into your hug, draping himself over you like a cat for the rest of the evening.
For a while, you had enough sympathy to care about it. You’d try to distract satoru with video games. You’d play suguru’s favorite movies. Somehow they’d always convince you to cuddle on the couch and then on the bed. You’d tolerate them wrapping his hands around you, ranting about how much they hated their ex. And then they’d get right back together a couple days later.
You tolerated it the first time. Then the second. Then the third.
But even you have your limits.
This time, it was satoru who broke up with suguru, so when the white-haired man lets himself into your house (they’ve done this so many times they have their own keys now), you finally decide to call suguru and have an intervention.
Satoru is miffed when Suguru arrives. Suguru definitely feels the same way, considering his expression. You still force them to sit on the couch, because it was either this or murder.
“I’m done.” You finally tell them. “You two need serious help. You either make up right now, or permanently break up because this has to be the worst relationship I’ve ever seen.”
And they just stare at you with wide eyes like they dont understand. Finally, Satoru pipes up.
“Wait… are you breaking up with us?”
It turns out that the two 100% thought you were part of the throuple without ever vocalizing that to you. Now they’ve gotten back together again, but they’ve lasted a lot longer because of a shared goal: getting you back.
meanwhile, you quickly regret trying to couple-therapy these two cuz they are becoming more and more intense about adding you into their fucked-up dynamic no matter how many times you reject them.
