Speechless

speechless

Thanks for the request.

guys he's gorgeous

ESPRESSO feat. satoru gojo ❝ WALKED IN AND DREAM CAME TRUED IT FOR YA ! ❞

now playing... espresso by sabrina carpenter.

summary. never in your life did you think a silly coffee shop tradition with your friends would result in a game of cat-and-mouse with an unabashedly flirtatious barista. but, then again, you’d never met satoru gojo.

tags. barista!satoru x fem!reader, college au, non-curse au, fluff, strangers to lovers, reader’s lowkey a menace & toru’s highkey delusional.

wc. 2.9k

note. first post everybody cheered !!! ‘m missing my blue-eyed loser more than usual today so enjoy this entirely self-indulgent piece 😣💢

ㅤ ㅤㅤyou and your friends have this… thing, you see.

it all started years ago, when you’d begun to develop a raging caffeine addiction in the midst of your final exams. it was then that your best friends had dragged you to the coziest café on campus, and it was there that they let you in on their little secret.

thinking back, you remember it being utahime who had whispered the words in your ear with a giggle. the words you’d hold yourself to for the rest of your university life; and the words you probably should have turned down if only you'd known better.

the words being: “when you place your order, don’t give the barista your actual name.”

you’d stared at her as if she were crazy.

"... why?"

“because it’s funny!”

“is it, though?”

“of course!” this time, it was shoko that insisted. “we’ve been playing around with these guys for weeks now — you’ve gotta see the looks on their faces every time we walk in with a new name!”

you gave in with a halfhearted shrug. "whatever you say, ieiri.”

and just like that, your trio’s tradition was born.

some days, you like to coordinate your aliases according to characters from books, movies or tv shows you’ve been enjoying. most days, it’s whatever random name pops into your minds as you walk into the coffee shop.

today, you decide on the former.

“we should totally do friends.” utahime chirps, bouncing on her toes as the three of you are heading to your usual morning pick-me-up spot. “in honor of all those reruns we watched last weekend!”

“in honor of all those reruns you watched last weekend.” shoko corrects, “we tapped out as soon as mr. ‘we were on a break!’ got too big for his boots.”

“and missed out on a whole seven incredible seasons!” utahime protests.

you shake your head with a chuckle, “guess we know who’s being rachel, then.”

“i call dibs on phoebe!” shoko’s quick to announce.

“i— hey!” you pout, “you know she’s my favourite character!”

“you snooze you lose, y/n.”

“what do you have against monica anyways, hm?” utahime instigates.

“nothing. she’s just not phoebe.” you reply, plain and simple.

“she did get the best love story of the entire series…” utahime hums. “who knows?” her brows wiggle in jest, “we could be manifesting something for you.”

your trio exchanges a brief look — before bursting into fits of laughter.

“yeah, right!”

it’s no secret that love has found it’s way to the bottom of your list of priorities over the years. hell, if it’s even on the list at all! you’ve had your fair share of short-term boyfriends, casual flings and drunken hookups, sure, but none that you’ve truly cared about the way it always seems to be in the movies.

instead, you’ve learned to cope with the void of a significant other by filling it with things that actually matter — like your studies and social life. the truth is, with maturity came the realization that men (or boys, rather) are really just not worth your time and effort. they only ever end up disappointing you at the end of the day, so what’s the point? you figure a life of independence is definitely the way to go, and your friends couldn’t agree more.

“now let's pick up the pace!” mentally shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you grab the women by their wrists to march onward with a newfound sense of purpose. “i’m about two seconds away from falling asleep on the sidewalk if i don’t get my morning coffee, stat!” ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤㅤwalking into the café feels like reaching an oasis after days spent stranded in the desert.

you, shoko and utahime breathe a collective sigh of relief upon basking in the trademark scent of freshly roasted coffee beans wafting through the air. it’s quite busy for a wednesday morning, with students and professors bustling to and from the front counter for their fixes. most of the buttery leather sofas scattered around the space are occupied, and more books than usual are missing from the shelves that line the sage green walls.

in light of valentine’s day approaching soon, the space has been fittingly decorated with fairy lights, pink streamers, and candy heart posters. upon closer inspection, you realise some of the candy hearts have handwritten messages or doodles scrawled onto them instead of the usual one-liners you’re used to seeing. you also happen to notice the one stuck to the pastry display case has the words ‘hmu if u can pay off my student loans :p’ written on it, which pulls an amused chuckle from your lips.

“earth to y/n…”

shoko sends a playful poke to your ribs, reminding you that you’re next in line.

“hm? oh!”

you shuffle toward the register — only to find an unfamiliar face smiling at you.

oh.

it knocks the wind from your lungs for a moment.

you’ve been a regular at this café for years now, but it’s the first you’ve seen of this particular barista. he’s tall, with milky soft skin and stark white hair that falls over a pair of shades nestled precariously on the edge of his button nose. his cheekbones are sharp, lips pillowy and naturally curved into a smirk. a certain aura of boyish charm radiates from this stranger, and it’s now that you deduce: he must be new.

not to mention attractive. straight-out-of-the-movies, double-take-worthy levels of it.

and he seems to think the same of you, if the way he’s blatantly staring at you from across the counter is anything to go by.

“ya’ like the message?” he hums, tilting his sunglasses further down the bridge of his nose to reveal a pair of striking aquamarine irises. they sparkle in the warm lighting of the café as they shift between your own and the decoration that had distracted you earlier — and from this mannerism alone, something inside you stirs. this guy screams trouble.

“‘s funny, i guess.” you admit.

“glad to know someone appreciates my work.” leaning his forearms against the counter, he shoots you a kilowatt grin. “so what can i get for your gorgeous, indebted self today?”

the total lack of subtlety has your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. “you discuss crippling debt with all your customers?”

the handsome stranger’s hair falls over his eyes when he laughs, a hand raising to rake through the silk-like strands. “mmm… nah,” he pauses, allowing even more cheek to seep into his flirtatious tone. “just the cute ones.”

“lucky me.” you drawl sarcastically. you feel his piercing gaze remain on you while you scan the menu. “i’ll take a cappuccino, thanks.”

“and your name?” he pops the cap of a sharpie open with his teeth, brows raised behind the rim of a takeaway cup. but something about the twinkle in his eyes and the mischief lacing his tone tells you he’s asking more for his own sake, rather than that of the order.

“monica.” you lie. answer.

“monica…” he repeats, scribbling away on the cup. you can see the name bouncing around the confines of his skull as he muses, “pretty name for a pretty girl.”

idiot.

you give him a tight-lipped smile, paying wordlessly before slipping away from the line and back to your friends. if you were to stay around the barista and his charms any longer, you think you’d start to rot from all the sugarcoated compliments.

“what took you so long?” utahime pries as soon as you reunite with her at the waiting area.

“don’t worry about it.” you murmur.

the younger girl shrugs, turning her attention back to what she was preoccupied with before your return. she and shoko seem to be in some kind of laid back conversation with another barista — who you recognize, of course, from the countless times you’ve visited this café and the handful of lectures you share on occasion.

“g’morning, suguru!” you greet him with a smile.

your classmate returns the pleasantries, and you jump into the conversation whilst waiting for your order to be made. it’s nothing too serious — brief mentions of mutual friends, upcoming exams, and a couple bantery comments thrown about — all foregrounded by the sound of cups clinking and milk steaming as the four of you will the time away.

“orders up for rachel, phoebe, and monica!”

suguru, catching onto the names that were just called out, gives your trio an exasperated shake of his head. “are you guys seriously still doing this?”

“oh, shut up.” shoko tsks, “it’s funny!”

“tell that to all my co-workers who think you’re going through an identity crisis every week.” the man chuckles.

utahime returns with three takeaway cups in hand, passing them out to you and shoko. as soon as you take a sip, you sigh contentedly at the well-made beverage. see, this happens to be one of the many reasons this particular café is your favorite spot on campus — aside from the homey atmosphere and friendly staff, of course — they know how to make a damn good cup of coffee.

“did you guys change the recipe or something?” you ask suguru. eyes wide, you take another gulp of your cappuccino. “this is even better than usual!”

“enjoying yet another one of my creations, hm?”

the stranger from before appears behind suguru before he’s even able to formulate a reply, flashing you a second trademark smile.

“really laying it on thick with the praises this morning, pretty. might make me blush if ya’ keep at it.”

you scoff, “that’s rich coming from you.”

“heh, guilty.”

you’ve never met anyone so forward as the man in front of you. with the way his eyes haven’t stopped glittering since you’d first come into contact with them, you’d think he’s been harboring some kind of secret crush on you for years, as opposed to the two of you only having met each other mere minutes before. you wonder how on earth someone could be so unabashed toward a total stranger — not to mention the fact that he doesn’t even know your name! or, your real name, to be precise.

“dude, stop hitting on all my friends.” suguru tsks, shooting an unimpressed look toward his co-worker.

“only when you stop being friends with beautiful women.” he counters playfully.

“stuck between three chronic liars and a serial flirt…” the raven-haired man goes on to mumble, though the smile remaining on his face suggests his amusement at it all despite the sarcasm that drips from his next words. “happy wednesday to me.”

you, shoko and utahime laugh in unison, while the newcomer’s brows knit together in puzzlement.

“chronic liars?”

now it’s suguru’s turn to let out a snicker. he takes a moment to explain your trio’s odd tradition to the befuddled man beside him.

“wait…” he shakes his head, turning to you once more. “so your name isn’t monica?”

“nope.” you confirm.

“huh.” he chuckles, shaking his head to himself. the tradition itself sounds awfully pointless to him — but that’s not to say he doesn’t see the fun in it. “what is it, then?” he asks.

“wouldn’t you love to know?” you tease.

you could make a fun game out of this, you think.

“yeah.” he replies wholeheartedly, “i would, actually.”

the stranger leans his weight against the counter, as if his body were subconsciously trying to close the gap between the two of you. as if your name were the most coveted secret he’d die without knowing. and in this moment, he thinks, it just might be.

“hmm—”

ding! ding! ding!

alas, the campus bell gongs; signalling the start of your next class and cutting your deliberation short.

“guess we’ll have to save it for another time.”

shoko and utahime are conveniently wrapping up their conversation with suguru on the side, and you take this as the perfect opportunity to slip away.

“i’ll see you around…” your gaze drifts from the stranger’s twinkling eyes, past the blush creeping down his neck, right until you reach the name tag pinned over his chest. “satoru.”

and just like that, you’re gone. ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤㅤsatoru gojo is fucked.

undeniably, irreversibly fucked.

it’s been two days since his first introduction to you and, already, his mind is stuck in some sort of permanent frenzy.

nothing but thoughts of you, with your playful smile and addicting gaze. you, who smelled of vanilla and warm laundry and everything good and right in this world. the way you’d bounced ever-so-lightly on your toes as you savored the taste of his cappuccino — the one he’d made sure to steam to perfection, when he’s usually receiving warnings from his manager for burning the milk every other day. the way your hair bounced effortlessly with every step you took. the way your jeans hugged your figure in all the right places.

and the way you said his name… god— the way it sounded falling from your rose-petaled lips, in your silken voice…

satoru could get drunk off the thought of it alone.

and maybe he is; wide awake at the crack of dawn, staring up at his ceiling in a weak attempt to will away these thoughts of you that never seem to take a breather… perhaps drunk would be the only word to describe it.

“tch,” he grunts, splaying his long limbs against the cold sheets. “feel like a fuckin’ teenager.”

how could a single interaction affect him this damn much? and to think he never even got your name!

admittedly, this predicament is odd, even for satoru. he can’t remember the last time he’s been so irrationally hooked, so delusional, over a woman — if at all. the feeling courses through his body like a shot of espresso (ha.) and before he knows it, he’s reaching for his phone and giving in to the devil on his shoulder. ㅤ

thot daughter • 02:50 AM

sugubooo <3 my bestest friend in the whole wide worlddd

delivered

ㅤ satoru stares at the dimly lit screen with bated breath. waiting… waiting… waiting… until— ㅤ

gay son • 03:01 AM

?

read

ㅤ the man damn near jumps out of his covers upon receiving the notification; a premature victory. ㅤ

thot daughter • 03:01 AM

oh shit you’re actually up

gay son • 03:01 AM

phys exam tomorrow don’t tell me you forgot?

read

ㅤ gay son • 03:05 AM

satoru…

thot daughter • 03:06 AM

FUCK

gay son • 03:06 AM

🤦‍♂️

thot daughter • 03:07 AM

whatever, more pressing issue at hand rn

gay son • 03:07 AM

hm?

thot daughter • 03:07 AM

remember that friend of yours who dropped by the café the other day 👀

read

ㅤ gay son • 03:08 AM

no. before you even ask, it’s a no.

thot daughter • 03:08 AM

CMON MAN PLEAAASE 😫🙏

gay son • 03:08 AM

no.

thot daughter • 03:09 AM

JUST HER NUMBER PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING

gay son • 03:09 AM

she’s not interested in dating rn, toru.

thot daughter • 03:09 AM

i’m tryna change that 🧎‍♂️

gay son • 03:10 AM

no.

read

ㅤ gay son • 03:11 AM

besides, she told me specifically not to give anything away to you… not even her name 🤐

read

ㅤ satoru perks up even more at that.

“if she’s doin’ what i think she’s doin’…” he muses to himself, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. and though he doesn’t voice his next words aloud, he instead feels them in the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

then this just got a whole lot more fun. ㅤ

thot daughter • 03:12 AM

all the more reason to give it to me, no?

gay son • 03:12 AM

…

thot daughter • 03:12 AM

cmonnn suguuuuu

gay son • 03:13 AM

🙂↔️

thot daughter • 03:13 AM

i could make her so happy >:(

gay son • 03:13 AM

it’s giving desperate.

thot daughter • 03:14 AM

i can’t relate to desperation 🥱

gay son • 03:14 AM

ha.

read

ㅤ with it becoming more and more apparent that even his best friend wouldn’t help him get closer to you, satoru flings his phone to the bedside table with a dramatic hmpf. he’d expected the conversation with suguru to end in a successful retrieval of your contact details, to satiate even the tiniest bit of the behemoth craving in his gut, but it only added fuel to the fire.

… so he was on your radar.

enough to make you bring it up to your friends — and, better yet, to rope them into your bit.

the thought sends an all-too-familiar smirk to play at the man’s lips. after all, he’s never been one to shy away from a challenge. they only entice him all the more, as a matter of fact. especially when they look like you.

so it’s in this moment that satoru gojo decides: he will indulge in this little game of yours — and, if the prize happens to be even another crumb of your attention, he will stop at nothing to win. ㅤ

thot daughter • 03:30 AM

fine, i’ll get her name AND number myself then 😇

delivered

ㅤ a stupid grin graces the barista’s features as his head hits the pillow at last, dozing off to nothing but thoughts of you — his newfound addiction — and a promise murmured to bare walls and the hardened side of an otherwise empty bed.

“you’re so on, pretty.” ㅤ

© GUMIFY 2024 do not steal, replicate, or modify my work.

SMASH WTF OMG

TSUMU PLS COME HOME THE KIDS MISS YOU😖😖😣😣😫😫

AWWWW (i'd take the job)

࿐ ࿔ hot, hot summer !

in which you got the offer of a lifetime—takes place in 2006-2009 era! @mrrpmiao miao, you’re so responsible for the brain worm you’ve instilled in my mind🙂‍↕️

a part of gojo's love entries

summer is as hot as you are pretty.

it’s an undisputed fact to satoru. after all, he chose you. so of course you were the best. he supposed even strangers here would eventually come to realize it too… as it wasn’t the first time their kind had done so.

kamakura beach was packed in summer, and he stepped away a bit to get you shaved ice only to come back to this appalling sight.

“miss! ooh! you’re so gorgeous!”

this suspicious-looking middle-aged man—with goatee, long tied hair, wearing palm shirt and beach shorts—approached you so merrily as you were chilling under the parasol.

“ah thank you…?” you pasted a taut smile, totally clueless and spooked, hoping he would go on his way.

“i mean it! your body is so—wow!” the man gasped dramatically, appraising you from head to toe. “your bust—it’s perfect! you’d make a good cover girl, you know!”

you were wearing the bikini of the same brand inoue waka endorsed at satoru’s insistence, and true, it was indeed a sight for sore eyes.

his sore eyes, specifically. not others.

satoru scowled, and he marched towards where you were. he would do his job as always—chasing away no-good men from you.

“hey you,” he barked. “what business do you have with my girl here?”

the bearded man regarded him with surprise, before he assessed him from top to bottom. “oh! you’re mr. boyfriend? whoa, you don’t look bad yourself!”

“if you’re trying to bother my—”

“no, no! you’ve got the wrong idea!” the man defended, raising both hands in surrender. “you see, i’m about to offer the pretty lady a gig as a gravure model!”

wha? you gaped. satoru blinked.

“m-me?” you stammered, flabbergasted, pointing at yourself. “uh, are you sure?”

“yes! 100% sure!” the agent man replied with stars in his eyes. “miss, with your assets, you’ll outshine even inoue waka or kaoru sakurako themselves!”

“really?!” you almost laughed. it was a strange compliment, but a compliment nonetheless.

but next to you, satoru’s face darkened, his eyes obscured. his fists clenched around the paper bowl of shaved ice so hard it shook. the next thing you know—

“here, hold this.” he suddenly shoved the shaved ice to you, before he plucked his sandal off and—

“YOU!” satoru raised the flip-flop above his head, his eyes blazing with fury, ready to swing it at the man. “GET LOST YOU SLIMY BOZO!”

“—?! WAIT, YOUNG MAN!”

and then came the most disastrous scene before you: your boyfriend chased the agent with his sandal, throwing it at him that it bonked his head, then grabbed someone’s big-ass water gun without permission and continued the pursuit, determined to catch him.

. . .

“how could you?! why do you seem even remotely interested!?” satoru fierily questioned you after he was done cooking the gravure video agent, panting and sopping wet. in the end, the two of them got into a water gun fight that ended with him winning.

you turned to him, feigning an unimpressed expression. “he said i can outshine inoue waka. who wouldn’t want that chance?”

“you can’t!” he retorted almost immediately, aghast. “i mean, yeah you can! but no! no way! you can’t flaunt your body for everyone to see!”

“why?”

“you are mine!” he pouted hard, irked. “i don’t want to share you! you are for the consumption of my eyes only!”

his blatant response made you giddy, truthfully. and as if to stress his point, he suddenly pulled you to his chest from behind, wrapping both arms around you, making you squeal.

“satoru, you’re wet!”

“so? when i marry you someday, we’re going to share a lot of things together. wet is one of them.”

“does this mean you’d pick me over inoue waka?” you threw him a suggestive smile, looking up at him expectantly.

his face then turned pink, as he smooched you in the head. “you know the answer to that, dummy.”

who would have thought that he would really keep his promise and that you'd come to the same beach years later...?

THIS IS SO CUTE

you know how to ball (i know aristotle) [sukuna x fem!reader]

summary: college!au where sukuna is the star rugby player, and reader plays in college quiz bowls. w/c: 3k cw: inaccurate quiz bowl rep (i only play jeopardy on tv ok pls ignore the actual content and focus on the point of the fic ok ty), a lot of allusions to suggestive content, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'girl', and wears a skirt. a/n: i i i idk what u were expecting, but it should've been another taylor fic hehe

"Sukuna! Sir!" You turn your head toward the voice. The man beside you huffs deeply but turns anyway, apologising softly.

"Hey, man," Sukuna mumbles, shaking the hand of the Freshman student who's panting like he ran three miles (he probably did). "What's up?"

The kid eyes you up and down like he's never seen a woman before.

"Eyes up here, bro," Your boyfriend bites, giving him a fake smile. The kid nods quickly, gaze avoiding you at all costs.

"Uh–" He stutters. "Gojo was wondering when you were gonna show up to training."

Sukuna pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek. "Tell the freak I'll be there after I walk my girl to her car, okay?"

The kid nods and turns, speed-walking in the direction of the field.

Sukuna rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around your head, bringing you into his chest. You giggle at the sudden affection and continue walking to the car park.

"Fucking kids."

"He’s eighteen, Kuna," You laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"I had more decency when I was that age..."

Scoffing, you lean back. "You're joking, right?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow as you descend the steps. "Watch it."

You snicker and pull away from him, digging around in your bag for your car keys. When you spot the miniature stuffed bunny keychain, you grab it.

You can feel Sukuna side-eying you when you unlock the car. "What?"

He points at the keychain. "Is that the little cat thing you begged me for?"

You don't answer, knowing he knows exactly what it is. "Jellycat."

"Huh?" Sukuna's face scrunches up in confusion.

"Jellycat is the brand. And, yes, it's the one you got me. Don't act stupid, idiot."

Sukuna smirks. "I'll buy you more of them if you keep talking to me like that."

Your jaw drops, and you laugh, slapping him on the bicep. "Fuck off."

But before you can open the car door, Sukuna spins you around by the shoulders and presses you into the side of the car, hands roaming under your hoodie.

"I'll see you tonight," He whispers, lips slanting over yours hotly.

"Mmhm," You hum, running your fingers through his hair. Pulling away, Sukuna continues to press sloppy kisses along your jaw. "Be good at practice. Don't spear tackle Gojo again."

Sukuna scoffs. "That was an accident."

Rolling your eyes, you press your hand to his hard chest. "Yeah, ok."

"Bye, baby," Sukuna's hands slide down to squeeze your ass, and you look at the campus entrance to ensure nobody's there.

"Bye, yourself."

He gives you one last slap on the ass, and then he's stalking away, glancing over his shoulder to check on you as you slam the car door closed and turn the engine on.

Entering Shoko's apartment, the smell of burnt toast hits you in the face. You toe your sneakers off at the door and walk toward the cacophony of voices.

"Sorry!" Choso exclaims in the kitchen, wafting the smoke away with his hands. "Not my fault your toaster is fucked."

Shoko gasps and hits him with a teatowel on the leg. She points at him. "Don't talk shit about my appliances when you ruined all of yours!"

You step into the space, drawing the eyes of the three in conversation, and Nanami and Utahime sitting at the dining table with textbooks scattered around them.

"Thank god you're here!" Shoko laughs, wrapping her arms around your neck.

"Studying going good?" You giggle, waving at the others.

Shoko glares at Choso over her shoulder. "It was."

Choso throws his hands up in defence, and Shoko turns back to you.

"How's Mr Rugby Player?" She grins.

You smile softly. "He's good."

"Being as annoying as ever, I suppose?" Nanami's voice calls, not looking up from where he scribbles down his notes.

Utahime scoffs, placing her pen down on the table. "Not as annoying as Gojo." 

"Yeah, okay. Don't say his name; you'll summon him."

Rolling your eyes with a laugh, you walk into the dining room. You take your bag off your shoulder and put it on the table to remove your laptop. "What topics are we doing this weekend?"

Utahime points at the list of past regional questions. "I'm doing philosophy and fine arts, Nanami's math, and you're literature."

"Okay," you sit at the head of the table. "Choso, history?"

Nanami nods without looking up. "And Sho is doing science, like always."

"Sweet," You mumble before your phone buzzes.

baby 5:23 pm morning practice got cancelled  5:23 pm so coming to your nerd fest tmr

Despite his teasing, you feel the wings of butterflies flutter inside your stomach.

5:24 pm !!!!! 5:24 pm can't wait to see my himbo of a bf in a crowd of nerds!!!

You can almost see him rolling his eyes.

baby 5:25 pm call me that again and you'll be using crutches at your comp

"Quit texting," Shoko says, shuffling her flash cards. "We don't want a repeat of last time."

With your warm cheeks, you lock your phone and toss it into your bag. "Sorry."

"I'm not nervous," You mumble, checking the fit of your skirt in the mirror for the ninth time in ten minutes.

"Yeah, you're perfectly calm," Sukuna grumbles in his pillow. He lays half-naked under the duvet, his voice the only sign of life.

You glare at him through the mirror and glance at the clock on the wall—7:45 am.

You inhale sharply and duck into the closet to grab your bag. "I'm going."

Sukuna groans, shifting slightly under the blankets. "Kiss."

Despite his usually cold exterior, Sukuna is always soft around you—something you created.

Rounding the bed, you lean over to kiss his mouth, scratching his scalp with your fingers. A deep, raspy groan sounds from the back of his throat, and you have to pull away before he pulls you onto the bed.

"Starts at ten," You remind him, lips hovering over his forehead. "Be there at quarter to."

Sukuna hums, turning over. "Be the best."

"I'll try," You laugh, shoving your feet into your shoes. "Bye!"

"He's here," Nanami rolls his eyes, pointing toward the crowd. Your eyes widen, and you give your friend a side hug.

You weave your way to the hall entrance, small 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' leaving your lips. And when you hear your name, you push yourself up on your tiptoes. A head of pink hair stands out against the rest, and you notice he's surrounded by two other giant guys, too.

"Hey," Sukuna mumbles in your hair when you run into him. You grin into his chest and look up at him.

"Hi."

"Baby," He says, voice louder as he pushes you back. "You gotta get up there."

"I know," You sigh, greeting Negi and Miguel with a wave.

"Good luck," Miguel smiles, and Negi laughs. "We'll be cheering you on."

"Thanks, guys," You nod, feeling Sukuna's hands smooth out the collar of your blouse.

Sukuna shakes his head, ignoring his teammates. "You're gonna do so good."

"I hope so," You sigh, hearing the warning bell before the start of the tournament.

"Love you," Sukuna grumbles, kissing your head. You pull away.

"Love you!" Laughing, you walk backwards toward the stage.

"Give the scientific name for Vitamin K1."

Shoko's thumb moves too fast for your eyes to see before she answers. "Phylloquinone."

"Correct." Multiple claps from the crowd make your stomach turn.

The score is 455–460, with the opposing university in front. You wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, listening to Nanami answer a question.

"Solve this equation for x. 5x=0.2."

His answer is instant. "0.04."

"Right." The host nods, eyes trained on the cards in his hands.

You look to your left, seeing Choso's determined face despite his anxiety about public speaking. It makes you happy to see his confidence grow.

"Who wrote 'Hope is the Thing with Feathers'?"

A brunette answers. "Emily Dickinson."

Your head shoots up in shock. Shoko's hand finds yours under the table while you cringe at losing your question and points for your team.

"Yes!" The host swiftly moves on. "Cogito ergo sum means, "I think. Therefore, I am." By creating this statement, what did Descartes argue?"

Utahime tilts her head as if the answer is the easiest of the day. "That the mind and body are separate entities, with the mind being the essential nature of a person."

"Correct."

You inhale deeply, trying your best to ignore the score. Instead, you squint into the stage light to spot your boyfriend. To no avail, you wipe your eyebrow. 

"Believed the rational mind repressed the power of the imagination, weighing it down with taboos; which art movement channelled the unconscious to unlock the power of the imagination?"

"Surrealism," A blonde boy on the other table answered.

"Right. When did the three major shogunates (Kamakura, Ashikaga, Tokugawa) lead Japan?"

Choso nearly falls off his chair when he presses his buzzer. "1192 until 1868."

"Yes," The host re-shuffles his cards and places them on the podium before him. "Last question."

475–475.

"Name the novel: Raskolnikov kills Alyona Ivanovna (a pawnbroker), believing the good he does with her money outweighs the evil of murder."

And before you can press your buzzer, the other university's buzzer sounds first. Your heart drops, and your entire body goes hot with disappointment. 

"The Brothers Karamazov, by Dostoyevsky."

"Incorrect."

Your thumb presses the button before your mind can catch up.

"You have ten seconds to answer."

"Crime and Punishment, by Dostoyevsky,” You spit out confidently. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," The host grins, turning away from you and to the crowd. "Your 2024 Collegiate Quiz Bowl Champions."

And then the score changes. 475-480.

Cheers from the crowd and your teammates make you jump up. "Holy shit."

"We won!" Shoko yells, circling her arms around your shoulders and jumping. You jostle around as she does so, your face breaking out into a smile, and then a laugh slips from your lips.

Utahime crashes into your back. "Ah!"

You, Shoko, and Utahime hug each other, opening your arms for the boys to join.

And though the room is noisy, the loudest cheers come from the pink-haired man at the back of the room, his two teammates lifting him in celebration.

“Baby, what the fuck!” You hear your boyfriend yell. People around him give him dirty looks, but Sukuna pays them no mind. You, however, feel heat creep down your neck at the unwanted attention. 

“Kuna,” You giggle, waving your hand down as a way of saying ‘lower the volume’. You meet him in the foyer of the concert hall.

“I can’t!” He laughs, almost howling. “You’re so incredible. I’m so proud of you.” 

The praise makes your cheeks flame, and when Sukuna grabs your face to kiss you, he smirks. But he doesn’t comment. Instead, he places the sloppiest kiss on your lips, and you squeal at the feeling, laughing into his mouth. 

Sukuna leans back, brushing hair out of your face. “My smart cookie.” 

You roll your eyes and grab his hand. “Let’s go. You need to get ready.” 

You pull on jeans and a long-sleeve shirt as Sukuna scarfs down rice and chicken in the kitchen. Sukuna’s rugby game is at 5pm, leaving you 2 hours to get ready and drive him to the field. You’re meeting Shoko there – she wants to see Gojo & Geto play.  

Fixing your hair, Sukuna walks into the bathroom.

Whistling, he stands behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "My girl is so fine."

You purse your lips and shake your head, tying the last bow in your hair.

"My girl..." Sukuna bends down to kiss your neck. "Has such a sexy brain."

You snicker and push him off. "Go get dressed, freak."

Sukuna imitates you softly, pulls away and then gets his rugby kit on with a pout.

The popcorn box is hot in your lap as you dive your hand into the matcha-flavoured kernels once again. You and Shoko sit huddled in the stand, clad in blue scarves. You opted for Sukuna’s training jersey over your long-sleeved top without his knowledge, making Shoko tease you relentlessly. 

“But you’re you, and he’s him.”

You nod to her rant, ignoring her, staring straight at your snack as you pick the next piece to eat.

“There they are,” Shoko draws you from your daze as she points out Gojo running out of the dressing rooms below. The bright blue uniforms are hard to miss, especially against the green grass. You fidget with your necklace as you watch the rest of the team empty out of the dressing rooms, Sukuna being the last one to exit.

The sight of him in his tight jersey has you verbally reacting. “Holy fuck.”

“Settle down, girl,” Shoko laughs. “Not like it’s your first time.”

You giggle, making note of how big his arms are. Sukuna shakes said large arms and rolls his head in a circle before leaning forward, his hands clutching the hem of his jersey. He glances over at Miguel, who plays in the halves and nods once at him. 

After kick-off, in favour of the other team, Sukuna runs forward, tackling the fullback of the other team who caught the ball. The ball slips out of the guy’s arms, and Geto swipes it from the grass. He sprints up the field, dodging and weaving in and out of players, and makes the final steps towards the in-goal. 

Shoko shakes your arm as Geto dives onto the grass, the ball dragging along as he scores, and then you’re both jumping up and down in celebration. Your cheers are so loud they travel to the field, and Sukuna looks up toward you. He smirks, accepting a bro-hug from Geto, who praises his tackle.

The game goes on like this until half-time, with the other team scoring twice. Sukuna is exhausted as he walks off the field, his jersey clinging to his body with sweat. He peeks at where you were sitting only a few minutes prior and sees you gone. He draws his eyebrows together and runs his hand through his hair. 

His teammates funnel around him towards the dressing room, but Sukuna stands looking for you.

“Kuna!” You and Shoko are waving from the bottom of the stands, giant smiles on your faces. Your boyfriend shakes his head, laughs briefly, and jogs over to the two of you.

“You’re doing so good!” You exclaim, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his waist. His free arm circles your shoulders, and he nods at Shoko.

“Good job this morning,” He comments. 

Shoko furrows her eyebrows and scoffs at the out of character compliment. “Seriously? Thanks?” 

Laughing, you pull away from Sukuna and take in the sight before you, wishing you could capture this moment with your eyes. His face is flush, and his hair is sticking in every direction, the pink darkened to a burgundy. Your mind wanders to a situation far different and more sensual than the one you’re in currently, and you feel your cheeks warm up.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Sukuna whispers, noticing the jersey you're wearing. His pearly white teeth gleam at you, and then he jogs away. Your eyes follow him, gaze trailing down his body until you stop at his ass. He looks so damn good in those rugby shorts.

“Quit objectifying him,” Shoko teases, poking your warm cheek. "We're better than that."

You slap her hand away, eyes watering from the cold air. “Shut the fuck up.”

The second half starts and goes by quicker than the first one. Sukuna finishes the game, scoring three tries in the 40-minute half. They win 42-12. 

“Kuna, I don’t think you understand how good you are,” You ramble on the way back to the car after Sukuna showered and got into sweats. His fingers are laced with yours, and he doesn’t care when you swing them around. "A hattrick? C'mon!"

“Oh, save the praise for the bedroom, please,” Shoko pleads, a disgusted look on her face. “And everything else, god!”

Sukuna has an insult on the tip of his tongue, but you pinch his stomach, eyes narrowing at him. “No.”

He huffs and mumbles something intelligible. 

“Oh, there’s Gojo and Geto,” Shoko sighs in relief, seeing her best friends lingering around Gojo's BMW. “Bye!” 

“See you!” 

“Thank you, lord.”

You whack his large bicep and shake your head. “You’re horrible.”

“You’re horrible,” Sukuna replies. “Wearing my jersey and expecting me not to get hard.”

You gape at his outright vulgar statement. “Ok, your speaking privileges have been revoked.”

Sukuna scoffs. “My–”

You reach up and slap your hand over his mouth. “Shhhh.”

And when you get in the car, Sukuna can’t keep his hands to himself. His large hand covers almost the entirety of your thigh, and you have to calm yourself down to drive. 

“I feel so high school every time I look at you…”

The streetlights go by in a blur, and the radio plays softly as you two go over everything that happened today. 

“I don’t know how you people know questions like that,” Sukuna complains. “How are you that smart?” 

You shrug, flicking the indicator down. “Just like how you play rugby.”

“They’re completely different.”

“Well,” You tilt your head. “If I tried to play rugby—” Sukuna’s laugh cuts you off. “You think I could tackle like that? Know one-word plays?” 

“I mean, you would look so sexy in those shorts.”

“Not the point,” You glance at him, eyes softening at how he’s staring at you.

“You know how to ball, I know Aristotle.”

“The point is,” You swallow, feeling the callouses on his hands rub your skin. “I’ve got my thing, and you’ve got yours. We’re both good at what we do. There’s no comparing.” 

“You know what you wanted, and boy, you got her.”

“I’m just so proud of you, you know that?” Sukuna whispers, his voice barely audible over the song. You nod, eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

“I’m proud of you, too, Kuna. I’m gonna be a WAG forever.”

As you pull into the apartment complex's driveway, the echoes of Sukuna’s deep laughs and your giggles can be heard in the dead of night. 

“I’m sinking, our fingers entwined, cheeks pink in the twinkling lights.”

AGHHHHHH

a/n: INTENSE rambling about gojo’s dimples / jjk manga spoilers (alluding to a physical feature of gojo, rather than a plot point) + includes manga panels under the cut + mini barbie spoilers? lol, just a warning if you haven’t watched it! / 0.8k ✩

if satoru notices your recent fascination with his smile, he doesn’t say anything, and rather lets your finger trace over the skin of his face. over the stark white lashes of his eyes to the peculiar double eyelids that ran through the gojo clan. your fingers like to leave trails of unspoken admiration over the skin of his pale cheeks, blushed red from the cold of the tokyo winter to the plump, shiny pair of lips — it’s because he liked to lick them so much.

it first starts out when you’re on the brink of death (gojo puts it that way, you were just immensely tired from fighting a regenerative curse) that you’ve made such a startling discovery, poking at the dip in his cheek in an almost robot-like way before you let out one last sigh, fainting from the fatigue.

and later in shoko’s office, you’re doing it again to his sleeping form, angled toward you while he sat in an uncomfortable chair, hand tightly clutching onto yours. the sight melts your heart, moreso when he leans into your gentle finger, drawing over the familiarity of your love.

“baby! baby, oh my god, you’re awake— let me go get s—”

“stay with me, ’toru,” you mumble, already feeling tired again from the toll which took over your body.

the same soft smile that he donned matches the one in the kitchen just a week ago, enjoying the mediocrity of the morning with your lover. gojo is situated between your legs as you brush the hairs from his face, staring at you with a tug on his heart and trembling breaths. your hands have abandoned your coffee cup, left to the side while you just map out the coordinates of his eyes, his sharp nose, the same plump lips that now frequents your strawberry lip balm.

“why’re you so pretty?” you mumble mindlessly, thumbs subconsciously dipping into the dimples beside his smile. the smile that is only reserved for you, like the one in shoko’s office.

gojo’s smile widens into a grin now as he leaves the question unanswered, mainly because he’s wondering why you’re the one asking the question when he feels like you could rival a goddess and win by miles; when he feels like the ache of his knees from worshipping you is worth every bruise.

“should be asking you that, sweetness,” satoru’s voice is raspy from just waking up, scooting closer to the kitchen counter which you’re propped on and pulling your closer, “you paralyse me each time my eyes lay on you.”

you roll your eyes with a giggle, leaning in for a soft kiss laced with dawn’s morning light of blue and purple, humming needily when you feel his hands wander over your body, squeezing and kneading at your waist. and before he turns away to go ahead with the day (not without a little complaining and more kisses — he’s just so drunk on you), he doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to his lips again, or rather, to the right side of his mouth.

satoru makes a mental note to ask you about it the next time you do it, a stroke of luck when you’re having movie night two days later and instead of staring at ryan gosling yell “SUBLIME!”, you’re admiring gojo’s smile once again and the slight tip of his head when he giggles at the movie.

“you’re not entirely secretive, y’know?” the other simply pulls you closer, satisfied with having you under his embrace and relishing in being able to see how your cheeks heat up with his six eyes. he’s watched barbie once already, so he doesn’t exactly need to pay attention.

“why’d you keep poking my cheek, baby, hm?” gojo is not opposed when you straddle him on the couch, bringing two thumbs to the corners of his mouth and pulling, an exaggerated smile spreading across his face that you can’t help but let out a loud laugh; he catches your wrists and laughs with you, littering little kisses to your fingers.

“why do you like my smile so much?”

“nothin’,” you whisper, “it’s more of your dimples, actually.”

“oh?” gojo’s lips stretch into a smile he usually gives his students, finger feeling around on his cheek for the familiar dip. to be honest, even he didn’t really pay attention to his features, pressing incessantly at the area once he’s found the dimple. “didn’t even know i had…”

“oh, you do!” satoru trails off as he lets you ramble about the many many times you’ve seen it, focused more on the way your eyes gleam in the dim living room light. he’s fixated on the smell of your shampoo and the illumination of your body from the tv’s light.

at least, in this hour, the sorcerer could wish for everything a normal life could bring; a life where he isn’t weighed down by the title of the strongest, where he could listen to you talk about the features on his face and watch barbie with you.

gojo satoru learns more and more about himself through the lens of your eyes — a love letter sealed with the saccharine strawberry you apply every morning and your whispered confessions that hold a multitude of suns to leave his fingertips blazing and heart soaring.

god i love him sm :(